Rohan is here under this very roof.
He’s probably asleep right now, sprawled on his back, as he loves, with his arms spread wide, his chest rising and falling evenly, all that smooth, dark skin practically begging for Jamil’s mouth on it.
Or maybe Rohan can’t sleep either, his body as on edge as Jamil’s. Maybe Rohan is touching himself, his hand stroking that dark, thick cock of his—
Groaning, Jamil sat up in his bed, grimacing at the bulge in his underwear.
He refused to masturbate—again. His cock felt oversensitive and his hole was still a little sticky and sore from his earlier failed attempt to sate the hunger in him and finally fall asleep.
Throwing on a black sleeping robe over his shirtless body, Jamil left his rooms. If he couldn’t sleep he might as well check on his daughter. He might be a terrible husband, but he refused to be a bad father, too.
It was dark and quiet in the halls of the palace, even the servants long asleep.
Jamil’s heart jumped in fear when he saw a dark shape leaving Tmynne’s room.
The other person froze, looking in his direction.
The corridor was too dark to see the person’s face, but something in the way the man held himself was painfully familiar.
Jamil licked his lips, his heartbeat quickening for an entirely different reason.
The man headed toward Jamil and stopped in front of him.
Gods.
Jamil took in a shaky breath and leaned heavily against the wall as the subtle, masculine scent hit his nostrils, so familiar and achingly good.
The other man put a hand on the wall beside Jamil’s face and leaned in.
His stomach fluttering like crazy, Jamil turned his head to the side, Rohan’s stubble scratching his flushed cheek and hot breath brushing his ear. Jamil let out a small whine, his cock so hard he could barely think. He knew that this was wrong, so wrong, but he needed him, needed something, anything.
As long as they didn’t—as long as they didn’t touch each other, it was okay, right? If they didn’t touch each other, if they couldn’t see each other, if they didn’t speak, it wasn’t real. It could be a dream. This wasn’t really happening. They were doing nothing wrong: just standing close, breathing in each other and nothing more, no matter how badly the scant air between their bodies vibrated with tension and want.
Rohan suddenly shuddered, a sound tearing out of his throat, something horrible and broken. “Go, damn you,” he bit off.
Jamil went.
He stumbled into his room and all but fell into his bed. He didn’t even bother taking his robe off, just kicked his underwear down his legs. Grabbing the toy that he’d pleasured himself with earlier, Jamil pushed it back inside him, his other hand fisting his throbbing cock. He whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut as the encounter in the darkness played in his head, over and over.
Only this time, he didn’t leave. In his imagination, he let Rohan turn him around and take him right there, without any prep whatsoever. It hurt, but he deserved to hurt. It still felt beyond good, his hole wrapping snugly around Rohan’s thick cock as Rohan fucked him roughly against that wall, his grip on Jamil’s hips bruising. Jamil could only moan and push back on Rohan’s cock, uncaring that anyone could come across them, that anyone might turn the lights on and see their Crown Prince bent over and being fucked in that corridor like some loose harlot. Jamil would be too loud, moaning shamelessly, and Rohan would put his hand over his mouth to shut him up, his hips snapping forward, harder and harder until Jamil was delirious with pleasure. “Be quiet,” Rohan would say. “Or the entire palace will find out what a cock slut you are.” Jamil came with a groan, squeezing around the cock in him.
Jamil opened his eyes and stared at the high ceiling of his bedroom, his hand still wrapped around his softening cock.
His eyes were stinging.
A slut.
That was what he was, at least where Rohan was concerned.
As long as they were in close proximity, he would never be able to trust himself.
This time, he had managed to leave.
Would he be able to leave tomorrow?
Chapter 31
Warrehn wondered if he really was the only one feeling the tension in the room. He couldn’t understand how other people in the Queen’s office didn’t seem to feel the taut rope of tension that pulsed between Rohan and the Crown Prince.
To Prince Jamil’s credit, he put on an admirable mask of indifference, much better than the one he’d had on yesterday. It would have looked convincing if his gaze didn’t keep returning to Rohan helplessly, the cord of tension between them tightening to an alarming degree every time.
Rohan was barely better. He seemed to solve the problem by not looking at Prince Jamil at all, but his avoidance to look at him was as suspicious, in Warrehn’s opinion.