Chapter 13

William’s breath shuddered at the vulgar promise, his lips parted around a word he never spoke.

But the fire behind his eyes betrayed him.

William stared up at Est, breath just short, lips parted in a show of defiance that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His back pressed flush to the cold stone wall of his chambers, the silk of his robe rumpled where Est had gripped him. But beneath the arrogant tilt of his chin, something in him trembled – not with fear, but anticipation.

Est didn’t wait for permission.

He leaned in slowly, voice rough as gravel but low, dark. “You think you can taunt me. Accuse me of things I haven’t done. Play the prince when it suits you, and the jealous lover when it burns.”

William opened his mouth, but Est didn’t let him speak.

“Not tonight.”

His hand slid up, cupping William’s jaw firmly, thumb brushing over his cheek – not gently. Like a claim.

“I saw the way you looked when she touched me,” Est whispered, brushing their lips close but not letting them meet. “No reaction. But you must’ve been angry, and now you’re turning that fury on me.”

William shuddered under him, nostrils flaring. “You think you can speak to me like this?”

Est’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“I think I can do a lot more than speak.”

And then he grabbed William by the hair – not cruelly, but rough enough to make the prince gasp – and turned his head slightly, exposing his throat. He kissed it. Bit it. Just once, hard enough to make William flinch and then moan, the sound stuttering out like it betrayed him.

Est dragged his mouth lower, hands on William’s waist now, squeezing tight through the layers of silk and muscle. “You want to act like I’m just another conquest,” he murmured, nipping at his collarbone. “Like I should be grateful to be fucked and forgotten. But you can’t even stand someone else looking at me.”

He kissed down the prince’s chest, slowly opening the front of his robe. “So maybe I’ll remind you just who I belong to. And who you belong to.”

William shuddered. His hands had gone from pushing to clutching – fists in Est’s shirt now.

Est slowly brought a hand up – not rough, not tender, just deliberate – sliding it up into William’s curls, tugging until the prince arched with a quiet gasp.

“You want to be possessive?” Est murmured, voice dropping to a velvet-drenched growl. “You want me on my knees after you accuse me of enjoying someone else’s attention?”

William moaned low in his throat, eyelids fluttering. “Est – “

“I’m not a toy, William,” he hissed, dragging his lips along the shell of the prince’s ear. “You don’t get to shame me with filthy fantasies you put in your own head and then beg me to clean up the mess you made.”

His hand tightened in William’s hair. “But maybe you do need something to choke on. Something to remind you who you belong to.”

William’s knees gave just a little.

With one swift movement, Est sank to his knees.

The fall of it was deliberate – a knight bowing to no one but dragging a prince down with him all the same.

William’s back was still pinned to the wall, shoulders tense, chest heaving beneath the fine silk of his shirt. He looked wrecked already – flushed, wide-eyed, panting. But it was nothing compared to what Est planned to make of him.

Est looked up once, just once – and the smirk that curved his lips was feral.

“Spread your legs, your Highness.”

The title was mock-sweet, reverent in the filthiest way.

William’s fingers twitched where they’d clenched into the seams of the wall – his knees faltered, slowly parting as he obeyed without a word, the front of his trousers strained obscenely.

“Good,” Est purred. “That’s more like it.”

He undid the buttons agonizingly slow – each one a test of control, a tease of friction as William’s hips jerked forward with a groan.

And when Est finally freed him, he paused.

Because fuck, the prince was gorgeous.

Long and flushed, already slick at the tip, twitching with the barest breeze.

Est exhaled against him – a deliberate, warm breath – just to watch William flinch.

“So pretty,” he murmured, almost to himself, running two fingers lazily along the underside. “You ever hear that, Highness? Or do they only praise your pretty face?”

William made a wrecked sound – somewhere between a moan and a whimper, hands fisting in the fabric at his sides as Est pressed open-mouthed kisses along his shaft. Slow, messy, adoring.

He licked up the length of him – a wet, deliberate drag – then kissed the flushed tip like a promise.

And then lowered his mouth.

William choked on a gasp, head thudding back against the wall.

“Est,” he gasped, one hand flying to his hair.

Est only chuckled. “So impatient for someone who was so cold earlier.”

“Fuck – “

He sucked the head into his mouth finally, slow and deep. William cried out, hips jerking, the sound rough and unguarded. Est let him slide deeper, throat flexing as he took him in until William was nearly sobbing above him.

Saliva glistened where he pulled back, stroking him with his hand, sucking hard and slow again.

“I should be furious with you,” Est muttered between licks. “But look at you. Ruined for me.”

William whimpered, high and broken.

Est took him slow – lips stretched obscenely around him, tongue flattened as he let William slide deep over it, groaning as the weight of it filled his mouth.

Then deeper.

He sucked once – hard – and William swore, one hand flying down to grab his shoulder.

Est’s grip on his thighs tightened, nails biting in warning.

“Keep your hands up,” he rasped, voice gone gravel-rough between licks. “If you want to keep them.”

William lifted them immediately, like it burned not to hold on – fingers twitching helplessly midair, jaw slack as Est sucked him deeper.

There were tears at the corners of his eyes now. His thighs trembled. Drool leaked from the corner of Est’s mouth, filthy and wet and perfect.

Est pulled back with a lewd pop, letting his tongue trace a circle around the tip before dragging down to the base.

He paused there, just long enough to press a kiss to the spot just beneath, where skin was most sensitive.

And then – lower still.

William gasped, a broken moan as he realized what was happening – his legs nearly buckling as Est licked lower, lapped between his thighs, hands dragging up to pull him open.

“Est – fuck – what are you – “

But he was already groaning, already pressing his tongue against the tight ring of muscle and pushing in.

William arched off the wall, a strangled, obscene sound ripping from him.

“Gods – !”

Est held him there, tongue-fucking him, slow and wet, as the prince shook.

His knees gave out fully, and Est caught him – pinned him there against the wall, legs parted and quivering as Est ate him out, sloppily, hungrily, moaning into it like he was savoring dessert.

“You taste good,” he murmured, breath hot and filthy between licks. “Like you’ve been aching for it all day. You’ve never been touched like this, have you?”

William moaned again, nearly sobbed.

“No,” he gasped. “No, fuck, Est – please, I’m – I’m gonna – “

And that’s when Est pulled away.

Just like that.

Warm mouth gone. Hands gone. Heat gone.

William howled, grabbing for him – “No – ! Fuck – “

But Est rose slowly to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, voice maddeningly calm.

“You thought I was going to let you come after that little stunt you pulled?” he asked coolly.

William’s eyes were wild, pupils blown, lips swollen, cock flushed and leaking obscenely.

Est leaned in, kissed his cheek, soft and mocking.

William was panting like he’d been run through – hair damp against his forehead, lips parted around broken gasps, his hips twitching in search of friction that wasn’t coming. His cock stood flushed and gleaming, trembling against the taut skin of his abdomen, the need in him vicious and visible.

Est just stood there – calm, infuriatingly composed, licking his lips slowly as if he could still taste the prince on his tongue.

He watched William squirm, watched the haze of desperation cloud his gaze, his mouth opening like he was about to beg – pride and desire warring violently behind his eyes.

And then Est spoke – low, quiet, lethal.

“You don’t get to accuse me of wanting to fuck nobles and then whimper for my mouth like I owe you something.”

William flinched like he’d been struck.

Est stepped forward again, one hand catching William’s jaw in a firm grip, tilting his face upward until their eyes met – until the prince had nowhere else to look.

“You want to be jealous?” Est murmured, voice dangerous in its steadiness. “Fine. Be jealous. But don’t you dare insult me with those insinuations and expect to come from my mouth like a reward.”

William’s throat bobbed. He tried to speak, but Est’s fingers pressed just enough to silence him.

“I was loyal,” Est hissed. “I’ve only been loyal. And all it took was one noblewoman’s attention for you to forget that.”

He let go of his face – let William sag back against the wall, ruined and flushed and breathless.

Est let his gaze drop again – to the prince’s cock, twitching helplessly, dripping against his belly.

He stepped close once more, not touching – just hovering – enough to let his heat soak into William’s skin, enough to let him ache for it.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Red-cheeked and wet-mouthed, cock hard and leaking like you’re begging me to fuck you.”

William shuddered violently, lips parted in a silent gasp.

“You wanted to punish me for being looked at. For playing polite in front of nobles who would eat me alive if I didn’t.”

“I – ” William swallowed, jaw tight.

Est leaned in, dragging his knuckles along the underside of his cock again – still hard, still flushed, now impossibly sensitive.

William bucked into the touch with a noise that was pure anguish. “Est, please – please, I need – “

“No.” Est’s voice was quiet but final.

“You don’t get to come,” Est continued, his voice like ice under velvet. “Not tonight.”

The prince actually whimpered.

Est leaned in again, brushing his lips just over William’s ear.

“Next time you want to act like a brat and accuse me of chasing other people’s attention?” he said, tone like a blade slipping beneath skin, “remember how this feels.”

He dragged a single finger down the length of William’s cock – feather-light, teasing – just enough to make his knees buckle.

“And think,” Est breathed, “about the orgasm you didn’t get to have.”

Then, mercilessly, he turned and started walking away.

William looked at him, trembling. “You – You’re leaving?”

Est didn’t answer.

He crossed the room to the door, opened it in silence, and paused on the threshold – gaze cutting back over his shoulder, full of steel and fire and hurt pride.

“You can jerk yourself off to the memory if you’re that desperate,” Est said flatly. “But you don’t get my mouth again until you learn how to fucking use yours.”

The door opened with a soft creak. A pause. The sound of Est’s boots retreating, echoing down the hall like the last cruel kiss of denial.

The door shut behind him.

And William was left against the wall – wrecked, undone, trembling, his cock still hard and leaking, his mouth bitten red from the effort of staying silent when all he wanted to do was scream.

Alone.

Wanting.

Ruined.

_____

The door clicked shut.

For a moment, all William could do was stare at it – chest heaving, lips parted, eyes wide with disbelief.

The room was still thick with the scent of sex and frustration: sweat, silk, heat. His trousers were still tugged down to mid-thigh, his cock flushed and leaking, hard and twitching against his stomach. His hands were clenched in the sheets behind him, knuckles white. His whole body was wound tight – his throat dry, his lungs burning.

And Est had walked out.

Left him there – panting, aching, denied – like some misbehaving brat sent to his room.

William let out a bitter, breathless sound. Something between a scoff and a moan.

How dare he?

His cheeks burned – not just from arousal, but shame. Because gods help him, he wanted to come. Had begged for it. Practically whined for it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned into the dark, chest tightening with something awful and feral and raw. Est’s voice still echoed in his ears, low and dark and cruelly calm.

“Think about your actions the next time you want to come.”

He had. Was. Couldn’t not.

The taste of Est’s mouth was still on his tongue. The heat of Est’s breath still ghosted over his skin. He could still feel the weight of that gaze as Est looked down at him – all fire and anger and possessiveness. It had made William ache down to the bone.

And now? Now he was trembling.

Because it hadn’t just been about sex.

It had been about power.

Control.

And everything Est had withheld had screamed louder than anything he could’ve given.

William rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth and then shoved his fingers through his hair. His whole body felt flushed, his skin tight and oversensitive – like every inch of him was buzzing and bruised.

He looked down at himself. At his cock, still hard, still leaking.

He should just finish. Wrap his hand around it and end this. Get it out of his system.

But he didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Because it wouldn’t be the same. Wouldn’t be Est. Wouldn’t be those filthy, possessive words whispered against his lips. Wouldn’t be the press of Est’s palm on his throat or the rough scrape of his fingers down his spine.

William growled – actually growled – and yanked his trousers back up with shaking hands. He didn’t even bother tucking himself in properly before collapsing against the bedframe, arms flung wide like a defeated thing.

It was so unfair.

Est was the one who had flirted at dinner. Who had let those women coo and touch and tease. He’d stood there like a statue – all demure silences and smirks – and invited the attention. William had watched it all.

Watched and burned.

And now?

Est had the audacity to deny him. To punish him. To walk away.

And the worst part – the very worst part – was that it made William want him even more.

It made him want to be held down and fucked through the mattress.

It made him want to scream, and sob, and beg until Est stopped being so composed and gave in.

He curled onto his side slowly, pulling the nearest pillow under him, face buried in its softness. His cock throbbed against his thigh, angry and untouched.

He didn’t sleep.

He lay there for what felt like hours, hard and humiliated and shaking with everything unsaid.

And by the time the first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, the ache had settled deep in his chest – heavier than lust, sharper than pride.

It was want.

Plain, raw, undeniable.

He wanted Est.

And he had no idea how to ask for him without losing what little dignity he had left.

________

The moment Est stepped out of the prince’s chambers and the door clicked softly shut behind him, the silence hit like a wave.

Cooler air filled the corridor – a contrast to the heat that still clung to his skin. He exhaled slowly, but it did nothing to steady the pounding in his chest or the tension tightening every inch of his muscles.

He walked.

Not briskly, not in haste – but with the same deliberate, quiet discipline that had been drilled into him over years of training. His boots fell silent against the polished stone as he moved down the long hall and away from the wing where the prince’s private quarters lay. Away from that room where William still stood – flushed and furious and aching.

Est’s jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it.

His hands were still tingling – from touch, from restraint, from the memory of how close William had been to breaking.

And gods, he wanted to go back.

Wanted to shove him against the wall and wreck him. To whisper filth and promises and apologies into his skin. To fuck that wild-eyed bratty arrogance right out of him.

But not like this.

Not when William had spat his insecurities like accusations. Not when he’d looked at him and seen something disposable. Replaceable. A beautiful thing to parade or punish depending on his mood.

Est stopped just short of the door to his own room and braced both palms against the cool stone of the wall. He dropped his head between them, chest heaving with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

He was supposed to guard the prince, to remain distant, invisible. He wasn’t supposed to let it matter. But it did. And now, the prince knew that. Could see how much power he wielded over him – even if Est tried to hide it behind clipped words and cruel control.

You’re jealous, he had said.

And William had been.

Est had seen it in the tension of his hands, the sharpness of his voice, the way he hadn’t been able to look away all night.

But jealousy was easier than admitting hurt.

And withholding was easier than apology.

Est rolled his shoulders back, exhaled again, and entered his room.

The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting the space in deep amber shadows. His bed was neatly turned down, a carafe of water and a covered tray waiting by the side table. William must have sent it – a silent echo of everything they hadn’t said.

Est didn’t touch the tray.

He stripped off his tunic in the dark, dropped into the chair by the window, and sat – shirtless, still hard, still aching, but too full of tension to even consider touching himself. He stared through the open shutters into the black sweep of night beyond the garden.

Down below, the last of the lanterns from the gathering flickered like fading stars. Somewhere distant, a servant’s laughter carried faintly on the wind.

But up here, it was quiet.

He leaned back and let his head rest against the window frame. His cock throbbed in protest, tight and aching in his trousers, but he ignored it.

Let it ache.

Just like William would be aching right now – in his bed, in his pride, in the soft, spoiled parts of him that hated not getting what he wanted.

Est’s mouth twitched – something like satisfaction, something like regret.

He had made his point.

But the silence left in its wake echoed louder than he’d expected.

He closed his eyes.

And for a long while, he simply breathed.

________

The next morning broke colder than any before.

Not in the weather – the summer air was still golden and crisp – but in the silence that wrapped around them like frost.

Est stood at attention behind the prince as they rode out for the morning shoot, every inch of him composed, every gesture efficient. He kept his eyes forward. Hands folded behind his back. Movements sharp and clean.

Just a guard.

Just a servant.

And William? He wore the role of prince so flawlessly it could have been carved into him. He smiled when expected. Laughed when required. He leaned in close to his noble guests and offered charming remarks and quiet, clever commentary.

But he never once turned to look at Est.

Not even once.

It was as if the heat of the previous night had been erased – wiped clean beneath the polish of royal manners. What had happened in the dark had no place here, under the morning sun and noble scrutiny.

Not in the glint of fine shotguns and hounds barking in the distance. Not with ladies draped in silk and men boasting over who would fell the next bird.

Out here, there was only duty.

Est played his part.

He stayed three paces behind. He took the prince’s cloak when it warmed. Passed him the chilled water when asked. Responded only when spoken to. Never more.

Never less.

And that silence between them – that carefully drawn line – screamed louder than any argument ever could.

It went on like that the whole day.

William never acknowledged him.

And Est never asked for more.

Even when they returned from the shoot and servants spilled out to collect the gear – even when the guests gathered for a final grand supper – even when William was seated in the center of it all, laughing at someone’s drunken joke, sipping slowly from a crystal glass – Est remained at his post.

Polite. Unmoving. A ghost.

There was no subtle invitation sent his way that night. No glance. No half-murmured excuse to draw him closer.

When the dinner ended, the nobles drifted toward the fireside parlor, trailing laughter and flirtation. One of the ladies shot Est a coy look as she passed – but it didn’t land this time. Not when he was already moving to fall into step behind the prince.

He followed William through the halls, up the wide marble stair, boots clicking in rhythm. The moonlight outside lit the windows silver. The hush of the house deepened.

They reached the prince’s door.

Est moved ahead instinctively, preparing to check the room like always, but –

“Thank you, Est,” William said, low and level. “You’re dismissed for the night.”

The words were so calm. So formal.

Est stopped dead in his tracks. Turned to face him.

William didn’t meet his eyes. His hand was already on the door. His voice had been smooth, polite. Almost too polite.

He might as well have bowed.

Est opened his mouth – just a little – to speak.

But what would he even say?

There was nothing to say. No place for anger, for longing, for apology, not when the prince had put every inch of distance back in place with a single, practiced sentence.

So he swallowed it. Like he always did.

“Of course, your Highness,” Est said quietly.

And this time, he stepped back when the prince moved to enter.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And Est stood outside, alone in the dim corridor, breath held in his chest like a wound.

He waited a few moments longer than he needed to.

Just in case.

But nothing came.

No footsteps.

No call.

No second glance.

Only silence.

______

The estate was washed in pale light when Est rose at dawn, as he always did. The hills were veiled in a thin, silver mist, and dew clung to the garden leaves like forgotten teardrops.

He dressed quickly. His uniform had been pressed and left folded with care the night before – by the attendants, no doubt, though the gesture still struck him with a quiet, bitter note. He fastened the buckles on his boots with mechanical precision, clipped his sword at his side, and brushed the back of his hand once over the place where William had kissed him nights ago.

He didn’t let himself linger.

By the time the house stirred to life – servants bustling to prepare luggage, trays of morning tea laid out in sun-filled parlors. Guests were slowly emerging – hungover, laughing, dressed in fur-lined cloaks and velvet coats, preparing for the journey back to court. They chatted, exchanging parting kisses and promises of letters that would never be sent.

Est had already positioned himself just outside the prince’s chamber.

The door remained closed.

He stood there in silence, still as a statue, back straight, hands clasped behind him.

When it finally opened, it was with no fanfare.

William stepped out dressed in travel-ready silks, his riding coat draped over one arm, hair freshly combed, face calm and composed.

And he didn’t look at Est.

Not even in passing.

He just walked straight ahead.

Est followed without a word.

The courtyard was alive with motion – stablehands prepping carriages and horses, footmen organizing trunks, guards checking security. The prince’s guests moved through the cool morning with coats and cravats and gossip clinging to their shoulders like perfume.

Est kept close behind William’s left shoulder, silent and sharp, a shadow cast in flesh and steel.

There was laughter ahead – Lady Kesiri and two of the younger lords standing by the fountain, their voices lilting, eyes always on William.

He gave them a smile.

Effortless. Flawless. Charming.

And Est… kept his gaze steady, unblinking.

He knew this part. He had been trained for it. The part where he wasn’t supposed to feel.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Lady Kesiri drawled, glancing toward Est with thinly veiled amusement. “Not even a smile for me before we leave?”

Est bowed politely. “My duty requires my focus, my lady.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She leaned toward William with a playful smirk. “Doesn’t he make you feel safer just by standing near? I might have to request a guard just like him.”

William’s smile didn’t waver. “You’d likely distract him.”

The others laughed.

Est said nothing.

He held his posture. Held the silence. Held the ache behind his ribs like it belonged to someone else.

The carriages were brought out. Luggage secured. The guards moved into position. The final hour at the estate passed in a blur of motion and ritual – and not once did William say anything more to him than strictly necessary.

Not a glance. Not a pause.

It was as if none of it had happened.

As if the bruises on Est’s hips and the phantom taste of William’s mouth meant nothing at all.

And maybe they didn’t.

Maybe that was the point.

They didn’t speak.

Not even when William stepped past him to supervise the trunks being loaded into the royal carriage. Not even when their gazes brushed like two swords clashing and retreating in the same instant.

Est’s pulse gave a flicker – barely there – and stilled again.

He followed William as he always did, close enough to protect, far enough to pretend.

Every word between them was clipped and formal, if at all.

“Your cloak, Highness.”
“Carriage is secured.”
“Ready when you are.”

Each exchange was precise, distant. A script they both knew by heart.

And neither dared stray from it.

As the royal party began their departure, riding out from the estate in polished formation, Est kept his head high, eyes forward, heart locked behind his breastplate.

He did not speak.

He did not waver.

Because in public, he was only a bodyguard.

And anything else… anything private, messy, or beautiful – that had no place in the light.

___________

The tension is tensioning I think. Will William’s pride be his downfall? Will it cost him Est’s affection? – Keep reading to find out.

What do you think is going to happen next guys? Leave me your thoughts in the comments.

And as always, I hope y’all enjoyed the chapter!