Chapter 19

Content Warning:

This chapter contains material that may be sensitive or triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

——

The next day began with a hunt, which went as well as it could have.

Est had kept his focus on the trail, on the sharpness of the bow in his hands, on the crackle of leaves beneath the hooves of horses and the sharp cries of hounds chasing the scent. The sun had risen high and hot, streaking across the forest canopy, and for the first time in days, Est felt useful. Grounded. He didn’t just have to stand behind William, and watch the prince smile at her again.

The princess. Soraya.

Always draped in silk, always hovering close – always welcomed.

He didn’t have to watch it today because the hunt was on.

He rode behind the royals and dignitaries, with the other guards . Tracked game. Fired true. Let the rhythm of his body override the ache in his chest. By midday, the hunt was declared a resounding success – three stags, two boars, and three dozen pheasants were laid out on linen-wrapped wagons. The air was thick with the smell of blood and grass and smoke. It was easier to breathe that way.

The nobles, flushed with triumph and heat, were led back to the palace for a light lunch – fruit, cold meats, chilled wine. Conversation buzzed across silk-draped tables under the canopies in the courtyard. William laughed easily, seated at the center of it all, golden and effortless in his crimson hunting doublet, hair tousled from the wind. Est stood at a distance, pretending not to look, but seeing everything.

He shouldn’t have cared how easily William laughed at Soraya’s whispered jokes. How she touched his forearm when speaking. How she leaned just a little too close when pouring his wine.

He shouldn’t have noticed. But he did.

After the meal, the guests retired to their quarters to rest and prepare for the evening feast, where the game would be served in full glory – with music and dancing, and Soraya, no doubt, wrapped around William again like ivy on stone.

Est returned to his post outside William’s chambers, posture straight, gaze fixed forward. The prince had entered a few minutes earlier, attendants fluttering around him like birds. He had not looked at Est. Not once.

It was fine. He didn’t expect him to. Not anymore.

So Est stood there, sweat drying beneath his armor, the ache in his shoulder from riding all morning settling deep into the bone. He was grateful for the quiet, for the minutes he could stand and breathe and try to remember who he was before he let his heart get tangled up in a man like William.

He was adjusting his stance, loosening the stiffness in his fingers when the door cracked open.

An attendant stepped out, bowing slightly. “The prince requests your presence.”

Est blinked. “Now?”

“Yes, sir. You may go in.”

Est hesitated just a beat too long. Then nodded and stepped through the carved wooden doors into the now-silent room.

It was dim inside – heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. The room smelled faintly of lavender and leather, sweat and spice. William stood near the hearth, only half-undressed from the hunt. His tunic was unlaced at the throat, hair damp and curling slightly at the nape. He was sipping from a goblet of something dark and rich.

When he looked up, his eyes found Est instantly – not cold, not amused, but quiet. Searching.

“Close the door,” he said softly.

Est did.

William took another sip, then set the goblet down.

“I thought you’d like a break,” he said, his voice casual. “From standing outside.”

Est nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

William’s mouth twisted. “Back to that, are we?”

Est said nothing.

A slow exhale left William’s nose. He crossed the room – the sound of boots soft on thick carpet – until he stood a mere foot from Est. He reached up, fingers brushing lightly against Est’s arm.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured.

“I’ve been doing my job.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Est’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer.

William tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’re angry with me.”

Est shook his head. “I don’t have the right to be.”

“But you are.”

Silence.

William huffed. “Don’t do that.”

Est didn’t answer. Just stood there – cold, composed, unreadable.

William rose, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. “You haven’t looked me in the eye since the ball.”

Again Est was quiet.

William’s eyes flickered, waiting. “Say something.”

“I have nothing to say, Your Highness. I’ve been on duty.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No, Your Highness,” Est said, voice flat. “I’m doing what I’m assigned to do. Guard you. Nothing more.”

William stopped in front of him, close enough for Est to smell the wine on his breath – sharp, red, spiced. His voice dropped lower.

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“Jealous, then?” He said it like a challenge.

Est didn’t even blink. “I don’t get jealous.”

William’s laugh was bitter. “That’s funny. Because you looked like you wanted to break that poor princess in two last night.”

Est didn’t blink. “I would never harm a royal guest.”

“That wasn’t denial.”

Silence.

William moved closer, eyes scanning Est’s face like he was trying to peel the truth off it. “You’re good at pretending. But not that good.”

“You’re imagining things.”

William raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Am I?”

Est said nothing.

William gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Fine. Let’s speak plainly then.”

Est said nothing.

“You are angry.”

“I said no.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“Not my concern.”

“Damn it, Est,” William snapped, stepping closer. “You’ve been watching me like I’m a traitor. Is it because I danced with her? Because I smiled and said the right words like I was supposed to?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.” William’s voice grew colder. “The look on your face was loud enough.”

“I wasn’t aware my face was under such scrutiny,” Est muttered.

“You’re angry,” William repeated, clearly trying to bait him. “But you won’t say it. Is that because you think you don’t deserve to be angry? Or because you know you can’t be?”

Est’s eyes flashed, just for a second. But he said nothing.

William’s mouth twisted. His next words were softer – dangerous. “She’s quite charming, isn’t she? Princess Soraya. Funny. Educated. Well-mannered. Available.“

Est didn’t even flinch.

It only made William’s frustration grow. He stepped closer. “You’re just going to stand there and act like none of it bothered you?”

“Should it have?”

The words were calm – too calm.

William’s hands curled into fists. “So it didn’t? You didn’t care?”

Est’s voice was flat. “Not in a way that matters.”

Silence.

William stared at him for a moment – long, unreadable. Then he laughed softly, without humor. “Good.”

Est’s brow furrowed, finally looking up.

William’s smile was sharp and cold. “It’s good you don’t care. Because it’s not your place to.”

Est stiffened, lips parting slightly – but he said nothing.

William went on, more bitter than he meant to be. “You’re mine to have, Est. That’s all. You don’t get to be angry. Or jealous. You signed the contract. You knew what this was.”

Est didn’t move.

William’s words were quieter now – the provocation deliberate in his voice. “Your only job is to give me what I want. You don’t get to want anything back.”

That silence stretched between them like a blade.

Est nodded once, jaw tight. “Understood, Your Highness.”

William’s heart stuttered at the use of his title. The way it cut.

Est bowed, sharp and formal, then turned on his heel and walked out the door without another word.

Only once he was gone did William exhale – the kind of breath that shook.

He sat back down slowly, the weight of his own words hanging in the air around him. He didn’t mean any of it. He’d just wanted a reaction.

Anything.

But for the first time that day, he didn’t feel powerful at all.

—-

The ballroom that evening was worse than the night before.

Worse, because Est knew what William was doing now. Knew it wasn’t just diplomacy or charm – it was something calculated. Sharp-edged and cold.

Payback.

Est had taken his position behind the dais where the royal family stood, standing tall, unreadable, just another well-dressed shadow in the marble hall. His uniform was perfect. His face a mask.

But beneath it, he was seething.

Princess Soraya was radiant tonight, dressed in a shimmering gown that clung like liquid gold, her eyes only for William. She hovered near him through every toast, every introduction, every photograph. She laughed too loudly at his jokes, touched his arm too often. And the prince – the prince didn’t stop her.

He encouraged her.

When she leaned in close to whisper in his ear, he smirked. When she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, he didn’t shake her off. And when the orchestra swelled for the second dance of the evening, William took her hand and led her to the center of the floor with all the grace of a man born to it.

Est watched every second.

He couldn’t not watch.

And then – halfway through the dance – William looked at him.

Just once.

His gaze swept the room like a king surveying his kingdom, then caught on Est – held it – and in that flicker of eye contact, something cruel glinted behind his calm smile.

A dare.

A test.

Est’s jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists behind his back.

He felt Soraya’s hand curl possessively around William’s shoulder. Watched her press in a little closer. Watched the prince lean slightly forward, murmuring something that made her blush.

Est wanted to tear them apart.

But it only got worse.

Because it wasn’t just Soraya anymore.

A prince – older, taller, with a deep blue sash and a mouth that curved like sin – stepped up to William after the dance. Est caught the brief exchange – laughter, a handshake, and then the prince asking for a dance.

It was a ballroom, after all. And William was one of the hosts.

So he danced.

And Est burned.

That dance was different. Slower. More intimate. The new prince was confident – hands low, smile slow, posture far too familiar. William didn’t push him away. Didn’t scowl or scoff. He smiled back. He let the prince touch his waist, lean close, whisper things Est couldn’t hear.

Est couldn’t look away.

He wanted to storm across the hall and rip them apart.

He wanted to pin William to the nearest wall and take him – claim him, bruise him, make him feel what he was doing to Est with every careless laugh, every flirtatious glance.

He hated this.

Not just the jealousy, not just the possessiveness – but the fact that he was letting it matter. Letting it cut him open.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

He wasn’t supposed to fall.

But watching William with other people – watching him flirt, watching him enjoy it – it made Est’s chest tighten like a vice.

And William knew. That was the worst part.

Because when the dance ended, William turned.

And looked straight at him.

A flick of gold under candlelight. A glance. Nothing more.

But it said everything.

I know what I’m doing.

What are you going to do about it?

Est’s heart hammered. His ears burned. His throat clenched around something sharp and awful.

But he didn’t move.

He was a soldier. A guard. A shadow.

And William danced on.

—–

That night, the corridors outside the prince’s chambers were quiet, candlelight casting long golden shadows against the stone. Est stood still as the final two guards bowed out and were dismissed for the night, leaving only him at post.

He should have felt something. Relief, maybe – to be near William again. To know he was alone tonight. Or dread, after the burning jealousy that had simmered in him all day.

But he felt nothing.

Or rather, he felt too much to name.

A minute later, the door creaked open from inside.

The attendant didn’t speak – only dipped his head and murmured, “His Highness has requested your presence.”

Est’s breath caught.

He stared at the door, fingers tightening at his sides. Every part of him ached to walk away. To not go in. To avoid the storm waiting inside that room – a storm he didn’t trust himself to face without breaking.

But he was a soldier.

And the order came from the prince.

So he walked in.

Est stepped inside, spine straight, face blank. He didn’t let his eyes linger, not even for a second. He couldn’t.

He stood silently a few paces in, hands behind his back, waiting.

William sat in an armchair near the fire, robe loosely belted, a mostly-empty decanter of dark liquor on the side table.

He didn’t look up.

He simply lifted the glass in his hand and threw back another shot – neck arched, jaw tight, a flicker of something bitter in the motion.

The silence throbbed. It wasn’t comfortable.

Est could feel the way the prince’s presence pulled at him – like a current he was resisting with everything in him. He could see the half-empty decanter, the open robe, the furrow in William’s brow that only deepened the longer he stayed quiet.

He didn’t want to be here.

Not like this. Not tonight.

Not after the way William had looked at him in the ballroom – like a challenge, like a game. Not after dancing with her. Not after the way the prince let the other royal touch him, whisper in his ear, cling to him like she had some claim.

He didn’t want to be here. And yet he couldn’t walk away.

Because he wasn’t allowed to.

Est stood still, his posture perfect.

Waiting.

The silence stretched.

Only after the prince poured himself another glass and downed half of it did he finally glance over. His gaze swept across Est – from boots to collar – eyes unreadable. Then he rose.

He didn’t say a word. His gaze was darker than usual, not with desire, not exactly. But with some tempest of emotions Est couldn’t name – or didn’t want to.

Just walked toward him – slow, deliberate, until they were nearly chest to chest.

And then William reached for Est’s face – tilted it up – and leaned in to kiss him.

And Est… turned his face away.

It wasn’t a rejection.

Not openly.

But it was enough.

William’s fingers tightened at the back of his neck. He tried again, pulling him in, lips brushing against Est’s with insistence.

This time, Est didn’t turn away.

He simply didn’t kiss back.

William pulled away, eyes stormy. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t stand there and let me kiss you like you’re a wall.”

Est blinked, but didn’t speak.

William’s jaw tightened. His voice came lower now, cutting.

“That’s your role, isn’t it? To please me. To be what I want, when I want.” His eyes glittered with anger. “You agreed. You signed it. My paramour. My lover. And if I demand – then you fulfill.”

There it was. The mask of the prince again. Commanding. Righteous. Wounded.

Est’s gaze flicked up to meet his.

For a moment, it looked like he might say something. There was something stormy and unreadable in his eyes. But he didn’t.

He only bowed his head slightly.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

And then he leaned in.

He kissed William.

But it was hollow. Mechanical. His lips moved because they were told to. There was no fire behind it, no heat. No passion. Only duty.

William pulled away with a breathless sound of frustration, gripping Est’s jaw too tightly.

“Stop it. Don’t kiss me like that – “

But Est was already turning his face back to neutral. No anger. No sadness. Just blank submission.

“As you wish,” he repeated. “Your Highness.”

And something in William snapped – not with rage, but with something darker. Desperation. Hurt. Regret.

He stepped back, stumbling slightly, eyes shining too much in the firelight.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Just the fire crackling.

Just their silence hanging thick between them – a silence that said everything neither of them could.

Est remained standing. Still and poised. Like a statue carved to obey.

William didn’t look at him again.

Not as he sat back down.

Not as he poured another drink.

—-

William hadn’t spoken in several minutes.

He sat, elbows braced on his knees, fingers loosely clasped, gaze fixed on some distant point in the fire. It crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls. There was something about the stillness of him that grated at Est more than any words might have. Like he was waiting. Like he had the right to sit there in silence and make him carry the weight of it all.

Est stood at attention by the door, back stiff, hands behind him. He was still fuming – with hurt, with frustration, with something deeper he wouldn’t name.

He hated this.

He hated how quiet the room was, how intimate it still felt even through the anger. He hated how the prince’s robe had slipped down one shoulder, baring the pale skin of his collarbone. He hated that his first instinct was still to cross the room and kiss him there.

He hated the ache in his chest most of all.

Because he shouldn’t ache. He shouldn’t care this much. William had done nothing wrong – not on paper, not by station – and yet Est could still see her hands on him. Hear her laugh. Remember how William had looked back at him during that dance, daring him, taunting him, like he wanted him to break.

Est hadn’t. Not then. Not in public.

But now, it was so much harder to hold it in.

And the worst part was, he didn’t know if it was rage or heartbreak burning under his skin.

The ache in his chest was familiar now. But tonight, it had teeth.

He wished he could just say it. That he was jealous. That he hated seeing William in anyone else’s arms. That he loathed being pushed to the sidelines, being reminded – over and over – that no matter what passed between them behind closed doors, they would never be equals.

But saying it would mean giving William power. And that… that he couldn’t afford.

Because the prince already had too much of him.

Even now, Est could feel it – the quiet yearning under the anger, the want he refused to name. He wanted William to come over. To kiss him properly. To look at him like he meant something again.

But he stayed where he was. Silent. Distant.

Finally, William looked up.

The firelight caught his features – his eyes rimmed with fatigue, lips still faintly flushed from the wine. And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Est didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to.

William’s jaw flexed.

“I know you’re angry. . .” he pressed, standing slowly. “Jealous even, maybe?”

Est gave a soft, breathless laugh – humorless. He didn’t turn to look at him.

“You won’t even say it, will you?” William said, quieter now. “You won’t admit that this is getting to you.”

Est’s silence stretched like a taut bowstring.

William stepped forward. “You could just say it. Say you didn’t like seeing me with her. That it bothered you. That maybe you want me for yourself.”

Still, Est said nothing.

“Gods, Est,” William muttered, exasperated. “Why do you always do this? Why must you make me drag it out of you? What are you afraid of? That if you say it out loud, I’ll… what? Have the power to use it against you?”

Est looked at him then – slow, measured – but his eyes were empty.

William’s gaze changed. The sharp look dropped, giving way to tiredness, eyes red around the edges, like he hadn’t slept well in days.

“Why are you picking a fight with me?” he asked, voice low. “Why won’t you just admit it?”

Est didn’t respond.

“Why are you shutting me out?” William continued, rising slowly to his feet. “You think I don’t know how you feel?”

He stepped closer – not fast, not demanding – but deliberate.

Est didn’t move.

William stopped just short of him, his breath unsteady. “What do you want from me, Est?”

The question hung in the air between them – honest, pained.

“I’m sorry I said you don’t have the right to expect anything from me… I was angry. Please…” He shook his head as he spoke.

“You already know I can’t acknowledge you in public,” William said, voice raw. “That’s just how this world works. That’s what we both agreed to. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you. It doesn’t mean I want to neglect you. So tell me – “

His eyes searched Est’s face, desperate and exposed.

” – What do you want from me? Do you want me to beg?”

And then – without waiting for an answer – he dropped to his knees.

The motion was smooth, practiced – graceful even in desperation. His hands found Est’s hips as he looked up at him, the firelight catching in his eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said. “Tell me you don’t burn when you see them flirt with me. Lie to me, Est. Go ahead.”

Est said nothing.

He couldn’t.

His hands were clenched into fists. His breath ragged. He hated this – how much he wanted it. How much he wanted him.

“You’re so damn proud,” William whispered, fingers curling at the waistband of Est’s pants. “You’d rather swallow your anger than admit you care.”

And then – softly – he undid the first button.

Est startled, taking a half-step back. “What are you doing – “

William reached up, hands at Est’s belt, fingers moving with purpose.

“Stop,” Est said, sharply. His hand came down over William’s wrist. His breath was ragged. “You don’t – “

William looked up at him – truly looked – and something gave way in his face. The tension, the pride, the heat – all of it burned down into something rawer. Quieter.

“I told you before… when we’re alone ,” William said, looking up at him, “… we are equal. You’re not just some soldier. You’re not just a shadow. You are mine, Est. You’re allowed to be angry. But you don’t get to shut me out.”

Est hissed in a breath.

“Don’t,” he said, weak. “William – “

But William just smiled – slow, taunting, aching.

“Let me show you who I belong to.”

His mouth met the line of Est’s abdomen, soft and reverent, then lower. Est’s fingers spasmed at his sides.

Est didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

His whole body was tense – jaw clenched, fists curled, rage simmering just beneath his skin. Everything in him screamed to push William away – to storm out and never return – and yet his cock was hardening at the prince’s touch, betrayed by the very body he tried to keep in check.

“This isn’t fair,” Est muttered under his breath.

William looked up at him again. “Then make it unfair back.”

And with that – he dipped forward and pressed his mouth to the base of Est’s cock through the fabric, mouthing at it softly, teasingly, even as he tugged the trousers open wider. Est hissed in air. He should’ve stopped him – he should’ve walked out that door.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Not when William’s fingers curled around him now, sliding inside the waistband, freeing him fully – hard and flushed and leaking already, his desire betraying every word he hadn’t spoken.

“Fuck,” Est groaned, a hand bracing against the wall behind him.

The moment William’s lips wrapped around him – hot, wet, and unrelenting – Est gasped, his hands flying to the prince’s hair, gripping tight.

“Gods – William – “

But William didn’t stop. He hollowed his cheeks, took him deeper – like he meant it, like this was how he’d apologize, how he’d beg.

Est groaned aloud, low and broken. His fingers twisted in William’s hair, not pulling, just holding – like if he let go, he might unravel completely.

William looked up again, something smug and sweet in his expression, then dipped forward and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, slow and wet, dragging his tongue along the sensitive vein there. Est choked on a moan, his hips twitching forward. And when William finally took him into his mouth – lips parting, breath hot, cheeks hollowing – Est bit down on a curse, his hands flying to the prince’s hair.

“Gods, stop – stop doing that – “

William hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight up Est’s spine.

The wet slide of tongue and lips, the obscene sounds, the way William looked kneeling there – so arrogant and so beautiful, and yet doing this like he needed it – it broke something in Est. He hated him for it. Hated him for knowing exactly what would unravel him.

His fingers gripped tighter. William’s rhythm was relentless – sliding down slow, sucking him deep, then pulling off with a slick sound before taking him in again, faster. His tongue curled along the base, teasing. He was good at this. He knew exactly what Est liked. He was showing off.

“Fucking hell – ” Est groaned, already too close.

He gritted his teeth, shoved his hips back, pulled William off by the hair.

William gasped at the suddenness, his lips shiny, his mouth red and breathless.

Est stared down at him, eyes burning.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” William panted, licking his bottom lip. “Get it out of your system. Use me. You’re already hard – why pretend you don’t want to – “

Est didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He yanked William up by the shoulders – quick, rough, breath ragged – and kissed him.

Hard.

Teeth. Tongue. Raw heat.

Then he shoved him backwards towards the bed.

William stumbled, chest heaving – but didn’t protest.

He never protested.

Est shoved him onto the mattress, facedown, hips up. William barely had time to catch his breath before Est was behind him, dragging his robe up and over his hips, baring that perfect, flushed ass. His thighs were already parted, waiting.

William was kneeling on the bed, flushed and breathless, his robe half-open and slick mouth parted. Est stared down at him, chest heaving, cock rock-hard and shining with precome, straining against his own control.

William licked his lips, tried again, voice soft and coaxing. “Why do you look like you want to kill me and fuck me at the same time?”

Est stepped forward.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t answer.

Just reached forward, grabbed the collar of William’s robe, and yanked it open in one sharp pull – the silk fluttered off his shoulders, pooling at his knees. William gasped, naked now beneath the moonlight pouring in from the tall windows, all golden skin and flushed chest, the curve of his ass barely visible in the glow.

Est’s hands moved before his brain caught up.

He gripped William’s shoulders, pushed him down – face to the sheets – then reached for the vial of oil sitting by the bed. His movements were fast, angry, mechanical. He slicked his fingers, then poured the rest over his cock with a harsh inhale, and dropped the vial with a clink onto the bedside table.

William twisted to look back at him, breathless.

“Est – “

Est grabbed his hips and pulled him back hard, until William’s ass was high in the air, his thighs spread.

“You wanted this,” Est growled. “You fucking wanted this.”

He didn’t wait.

One hand on William’s hip, the other guiding himself, he pressed the blunt, slick head of his cock to William’s entrance – and thrust forward in one deep, devastating stroke.

William cried out, his fingers clawing at the sheets, eyes fluttering shut.

“Gods – fuck – “

Est groaned through gritted teeth, head tipping back.

Tight. So tight and hot and perfect. He held still for a beat, jaw clenched, his anger and arousal a violent storm.

Then he moved.

Fast. Rough. Punishing.

Each thrust was a claim, a demand – a punishment. His hands gripped William’s waist so tight they’d bruise. He dragged him back onto his cock with every stroke, hips snapping forward with bruising force.

“You think I didn’t see it?” Est snarled through his panting. “You think I didn’t fucking see the way she touched you – like you belonged to her?”

William moaned, face buried in the sheets.

“You let her – ” Thrust. “Let her flirt.” Thrust. “Let her fucking pull you into her room like I didn’t exist – “

“I didn’t do anything – ” William gasped, barely able to speak. “I swear – Est – “

“Shut up.”

Est leaned forward, chest to William’s back, breath hot at his ear.

“You wanted me to see,” he growled. “You wanted to make me jealous.”

William whimpered, his body trembling.

“No,” he said, barely a whisper. ” Est – no – “

Est shoved deeper, biting at the curve of William’s shoulder. “Liar”

“Take it.”

He reached between them, found William’s cock – flushed, wet, leaking against his belly. He gripped it hard, squeezed.

William gasped, body jolting – and then Est let go.

Didn’t stroke. Didn’t allow it.

Just pulled his hand away and kept fucking him, the angle relentless, hitting every spot that made William cry out and tighten around him.

“Gods – Est – !”

Est gripped his hips and pulled back – then thrust forward hard.

Again.

And again.

Each stroke harder than the last. Deep, possessive. Like he could fuck away the sight of that princess’s hands on William. Like he could erase the sound of their laughter.

“You’re mine,” Est growled into his ear. “No matter what mask you wear. No matter who watches. Say it.”

William moaned, voice ragged, lips parting around a gasping, “I’m yours. I’m – yours – “

“Please – Est – ” William moaned, desperate now, trying to rut into the sheets. “I’m – close – please – “

Est growled. He reached between them and stroked William’s cock again – just once – before gripping the base of his cock, holding him there.

William gasped, his body jolting.

“No,” Est whispered. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

William sobbed – hands clutching Est’s back.

“I need to – I can’t – please – Est – “

He thrust harder.

Faster.

Pinned William to the mattress and pounded into him until he was a trembling mess beneath him.

Wrapped a hand around his throat, pulling William’s upper body up and back, flush to his chest. The new angle made William’s knees go weak, the head of Est’s cock slamming deep inside.

“You don’t get to come,” Est hissed. “Not yet. Not until I say.”

William shuddered – his body fighting to hold on, to stay still. His cock twitched helplessly against his belly.

Est didn’t ease up.

He fucked him hard, fast, brutal – his hand tightening just a bit more on William’s throat, the other gripping his hip. William’s head rolled back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“I wanted to bend you over the ballroom balcony,” Est growled into his neck, “in front of every one of those prancing little royals. Wanted to show them who you fucking belong to.”

William moaned – and it broke into a sob.

“Then do it,” he gasped. “Fucking do it – just – let me come, Est, please – please – I need to – “

That word.

Please.

It undid him. But –

“Not yet,” Est snarled, breath hot against William’s neck. “Not until I’ve had what I want.”

William writhed, his voice trembling. “Please – I need to – Est, please – fuck – I’m so close – “

Est’s hand held him firm, his cock still driving into him – deep, hard, relentless.

“You don’t get to come just because you beg,” Est growled. “Not after the way you looked at him tonight. Not after letting her hang off your arm like she belonged there.”

“I didn’t – Est – “

“You let them think they could have you.”

“They can’t,” William gasped, eyes wild, his lips trembling. “They can’t. Only you – only you – “

Est kissed him – hard, punishing – swallowing the whimper that left William’s throat. He released his grip around the prince’s cock only to stroke him again – slow at first, torturously slow, just enough to make William’s eyes roll back and his mouth fall open –

And then he stopped again.

William sobbed.

“Est – please – I can’t – please let me – “

“Then say it.”

William blinked up at him, glassy-eyed.

“Say whose you are,” Est growled, biting at his shoulder now, fucking him harder, deeper, each thrust stealing the air from William’s lungs. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m yours,” William gasped. “I’m – fuck – I’m yours.”

Still, Est didn’t let go.

William clung to him, panting, desperate, his voice breaking –

“I belong to you, Est. Only you. Please – please – I’ll do anything – just let me come – “

Est growled against his skin – and finally, finally, his hand closed around William again. He stroked him in time with his thrusts – quick, rough, unrelenting.

“Come for me,” Est growled. “Now.”

And William broke.

He came with a choked cry, his whole body trembling, mouth open in a silent sob, painting both their stomachs in hot, pulsing streaks. His walls clenched around Est, tight and spasming, pulling him deeper –

Est cursed, lost control, and came with a harsh groan, spilling deep inside him, burying himself to the hilt as he shuddered through it – all the tension, all the anger, all the want he hadn’t dared say aloud.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t pull out.

William, still panting, cheeks flushed and lashes damp, cracked open one exhausted eye. “You absolute bastard,” he muttered hoarsely.

Est huffed a dry, bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

Still, he didn’t move.

And William didn’t push him away.

There was silence – just the quiet ring of breath between them, the weight of what had passed settling like smoke.

William’s body was limp beneath him, twitching slightly, trying to recover. He looked spent. Boneless. Wrecked.

Too wrecked, Est thought grimly. But something wild in him hadn’t calmed. Not yet.

He pulled out without warning.

William groaned, oversensitive and tender – but didn’t protest, didn’t speak.

And then Est flipped him onto his back.

The prince gasped – but there was no time to argue. Est was already guiding himself back in, taking him again, rough, angry, unforgiving. Not as fast this time, but deep. Hard. With intent.

“Fuck – Est – wait – “

“No.”

Est thrust again, hips snapping forward, swallowing every breath, every noise William tried to make.

“You think you get to play with me?” Est growled low into his ear, one hand fisted in William’s sweat-damp hair, the other gripping his thigh tight enough to bruise. “You think you get to flirt and smile at everyone in the damned room and then act surprised when I lose my fucking mind?”

William whimpered – eyes rolling back, mouth open – a mess beneath him again. His body gave in far faster this time, already wrecked, sensitive and raw, clenching around Est’s cock with each punishing thrust.

“You wanted this,” Est hissed. “Wanted me to admit it, to fall apart – well congratulations, your highness. You’ve got it.”

He didn’t stop. Not until William was sobbing with it again, arching off the sheets, shaking from how hard it hit him – and even then, Est kept moving. Dragging it out, driving it deeper, until he was spent again, coming with a snarl and grinding deep like he didn’t want to leave a single part of him untouched.

And even then, Est kept going.

Dragging it out. Driving it deeper.

Like he needed to brand this moment into William’s body. Like the emotion wouldn’t leave until it bled out through the act.

He came again, snarling low, grinding deep, his entire body tight as he emptied himself with trembling force.

And still –

Est didn’t stop.

Even after spilling inside him a second time – deep, pulsing, claiming – he didn’t move to leave. Didn’t soften. Something in his body stayed tight, coiled. Not done. Not nearly.

He pulled out again – slowly, almost carefully this time – but the tenderness ended there.

William, gasping, eyes glassy and half-closed, could barely lift his head.

But he looked up when Est grabbed him again.

And there was no warning before Est manhandled him onto his stomach, one hand flat against his spine, holding him down. The other guiding himself, hard again, already slick, back between William’s thighs.

“Est – ” William’s voice cracked, just a whisper.

He wasn’t saying no.

But he was gone.

Soft, pliant, overstimulated to the edge of tears – his body wrecked, twitching, legs shaking with strain and pleasure and exhaustion. His hole was already open, flushed and red and leaking, swollen around the edges from being stretched too long, too deep, too many times.

Est growled low, a sound almost broken.

He lined up again, pushed in hard and fast – and William let out a sob.

His entire body jerked under the weight of it, fingernails digging into the sheets. His spine arched, legs trembling.

“Too much?” Est’s voice rasped, but he didn’t slow.

William’s answer was a sound – nothing coherent, just a low, high gasp, like he couldn’t get air fast enough. His mouth was open, but no words came. He just took it. Every inch.

Every punishing thrust that came after.

Est was rough. Controlled, but unrelenting. Like he was trying to exorcise something from his own chest. His thrusts landed deep, one after the other, and William was already too far gone – wrung out, body raw, nerves so frayed that even the drag of Est’s skin against his ass made him moan brokenly.

“You let them look at you like that,” Est gritted. “You let them touch you. Smile at you. Like they have a chance.”

William choked out a half-whimper, half-laugh – delirious, lost to it.

Est grabbed his wrists, pinned them down into the sheets above his head, rutting into him from behind with a rhythm that bordered on brutal. Each thrust forced small, helpless sounds out of William’s throat.

His cock twitched uselessly against the bed. He was hard, but he couldn’t even move. His body was locked up, giving out. He wasn’t just moaning anymore – he was crying.

But he never said stop.

“You think anyone else could make you sound like this?” Est hissed into his ear. “You think anyone else gets to see you like this? This fucked out, this wrecked, this ruined?”

“No,” William gasped – his voice so faint, hoarse, almost inaudible. “Just you – only – fuck, Est – please – “

He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore. It didn’t matter.

Est let go of his wrists and slid a hand under him, fingers wrapping around his cock. William bucked once, then collapsed again, sobbing into the sheets.

“Come for me,” Est growled. “One more time. You can take it.”

“I can’t – ” William whispered, broken.

“Yes, you can.”

And William did.

He came with a wrecked, strangled cry, body shaking so hard he couldn’t hold himself up. His cock spilled hot and sticky across Est’s hand and the sheets, his legs giving out entirely.

Est thrust twice more, sharp and deep, then groaned low in his throat and came again – deep inside him, filling him a third time.

He stayed there, buried deep, breathing ragged into William’s back.

And then, finally – finally –

He stopped.

William collapsed beneath him. Still. Chest fluttering. Breath shallow. Body limp and overstimulated, slick and aching and flushed all over.

Est pulled out slowly. Too slow. Too careful, given everything that came before.

William made a soft, involuntary sound – somewhere between a cry and a breath.

Est sat back on his heels, staring at the mess he’d made.

At the bite marks. The bruises. The tears still clinging to William’s lashes.

And then –

He turned away.

Without a word.

Just sat back, exhaled sharp through his nose, and turned his back to him.

He was still angry. Still wired. Still seething.

William blinked through the blur of sweat and exhaustion, tears still on his lashes. His body ached, open and used. His legs trembled. His hole throbbed – used, red, slick with the mess Est had left inside him thrice over. His breath came in uneven pants, trying to calm the sting in his chest and everywhere else.

But it wasn’t the soreness that made his chest tighten.

It was the way Est had gone completely still.

Still angry. Still seething. And suddenly very far away.

“Est,” William said, soft. Tired. His voice cracked around the word.

No answer.

He swallowed hard. “Est…”

Still nothing.

William reached out. Slow. Tired. Fingers brushing against Est’s shoulder, just barely –

And Est flinched.

Not much. Just a small, instinctive recoil. But it was enough.

Enough to make William freeze. To yank his hand back like it had been burned.

The hurt on his face wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Immediate. His mouth parted, then closed again, trembling faintly.

And then he turned away.

No words. No more reaching.

Just silence.

The kind that stretches too far and sinks too deep. The kind that hurts more than shouting ever could.

Behind him, Est sat still. Rigid. Silent.

And William curled slightly in on himself, bruised and dripping and silent too, the ache beneath his ribs now impossible to ignore.

The room was silent.

Deadly quiet.

Only the heavy weight of everything they hadn’t said. And maybe wouldn’t.

And for once, the silence between them felt like it might never break.

—–

Guys, before y’all come for me – read the story through. Give it some time. Things will explain themselves – eventually.

I know this one was a particularly difficult chapter but they will work through it – at some point.

Have patience and enjoy the story. 

Cheers!

Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. I go through all of them and take the feedback – positive or negative.