Royal Blood (ManxMan Fantasy Romance)

***4***

The next day, late in the evening, Chevalier Ruatta was brought under armed guard into the Crown Prince's chambers. He stood between two guardsmen calm, relaxed. He didn't even bother to make himself presentable. His shirt was opened half the way down to his waist, his uniform coat draped carelessly over his shoulders. His gaze once again was dropped to the floor, yet now the Prince knew it for what it was: hiding the scorching fire of his eyes.

Daronghi dismissed the guards, closed the door behind them and silently unrolled the scroll of the Royal Edict in Rudra's face. King Tamoe Talestra denied his only son and heir nothing.

Rudra skimmed through the flourish text — "...guilty of disobeying a person of royal blood by words and actions... to be stripped of the rank and privileges of an officer... to be posted in Aduannakh indefinitely until further notice..." — and leveled his green eyes with the Prince's.

"The Edict seems to miss a name."

"Depends on you, whether it will be added. Do you understand me?"

"And if I pretend not to? If I invoke my right to stand trial? Will you tell them the exact manner in which I had disobeyed you, Your Highness?" he grinned with bitter amusement, as a man who had nothing to lose.

"The mere slap on the face is quite enough for conviction. You will be posted in the shabbiest garrison of Creede, thousands of miles from the capital, for all eternity. I'll make sure of it."

"You are playing with fire, Your Highness."

"Are you threatening me?" the Prince raised his eyebrows, disbelieving.

"I am warning you. Let the sleeping beast lie, unless you are certain you can manage it."

"Enough stalling, Ruatta," Daronghi said impatiently. "You know what I want. Strip."

Chevalier Ruatta rolled his shoulders, and his coat slipped to the floor. Still grinning, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it off. Then he continued with his knee-high boots. The Prince watched him hungrily, his gaze unwavering. His heartbeat hammered in his chest. His body burned as if on fire. He couldn't stand the heat and started to undress too, clumsily fumbling with clasps. His clothes seemed to be stifling, suffocating.

Rudra's boots and pants joined the heap of clothes on the floor. He straightened up and proudly squared his shoulders. Daronghi couldn't help but gasp in awe. Rudra Ruatta was gorgeous. Perfect. Divine.

"You should have ordered to bring me in chains," Rudra said, still grinning that sardonic grin of his.

"If you don't behave, I'll be sure to do exactly that. Go, sit on the bed," he nodded towards the bedroom.

Rudra went and sat, with his knees shamelessly apart. Indeed, what shame could be in flaunting such beauty! Everything about him was exactly how the prince had been imagining — even the red fuzz of his groin, and the delicate golden tan, which was no tan but the natural color of his skin, without any tan lines. The Prince swallowed involuntarily at the sight of Rudra's stiff cock rising to his navel. Oh God, the man was equally aroused, he wanted Daronghi too, why all the farce then?

The Prince got rid of his clothes at last. His own cock was so hard already, it threatened to burst. Daronghi went up to Rudra and stood between his knees.

"Suck me," he ordered in a hoarse voice.

Rudra looked up at him once, with the same insufferable, mocking confidence, and obeyed. His cherry-red lips enclosed Daronghi's cock, and he took the whole of it into his mouth. He started to suck him — not like one under orders, but like one who had found it to be his greatest pleasure, his choicest delicacy.