Rhys woke to warmth and golden light.
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of Prince Elias's bedchamber, painting everything in shades of amber and honey. The room was magnificent—high ceilings adorned with painted frescoes, tapestries depicting ancient battles, and furniture carved from dark wood that gleamed with polish. But the centerpiece was the bed itself: an enormous four-poster draped in silks the color of wine and cream, piled high with furs and pillows that felt like sleeping on clouds.
And currently, Rhys was wrapped in the arms of the future king of Lyria.
Two days had passed since that first encounter in the baths, and Rhys had settled into his new role with surprising ease. He'd spent his time getting to know Elias better—training with him, eating meals together, talking late into the night about everything and nothing. The Prince was exactly as he'd seemed at first: charming, kind, enthusiastic about physical pursuits, and not particularly bright when it came to books or politics. But there was something endearing about his honesty, his lack of pretense. Elias didn't try to be something he wasn't.
And gods, he was beautiful.
Rhys shifted slightly, feeling the solid warmth of Elias's body pressed against his back. The Prince was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one muscular arm draped possessively over Rhys's waist. They'd fallen asleep like this after another evening of teasing and touching—Rhys had been deliberately driving Elias wild, getting him worked up and then pulling back before things went too far.
It was a game, and Rhys was winning.
He could feel Elias's cock against his ass, already half-hard even in sleep. The thing was massive, and Rhys had become intimately familiar with it over the past two days—stroking it, sucking it, feeling it slide between his cheeks. But they hadn't gone all the way yet. Rhys wanted Elias desperate for him, wanted the Prince so worked up that when they finally did fuck, it would be explosive.
As if sensing Rhys was awake, Elias stirred behind him. The arm around Rhys's waist tightened, pulling him closer, and Rhys felt the Prince's cock swell to full hardness against his ass.
"Mmm," Elias mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "Morning."
"Morning," Rhys replied softly.
Elias's hand slid down from Rhys's waist to his hip, then lower, cupping one cheek of Rhys's bubble butt and squeezing. "Fuck, I love your ass," the Prince murmured, still half-asleep. "So fucking perfect."
Rhys smiled and pressed back against Elias's grip. "You say that every morning."
"Because it's true every morning." Elias squeezed again, his fingers digging into the firm flesh, kneading it possessively. His cock was fully hard now, the thick shaft nestled between Rhys's cheeks, and Rhys could feel it throbbing with need.
Rhys rolled over to face Elias, and his breath caught at the sight.
The Prince looked incredible in the morning light. His blonde hair was tousled from sleep, falling across his forehead in golden waves. His face was relaxed, his strong jaw shadowed with the faintest hint of stubble. His blue eyes were still heavy-lidded with sleep, giving him a lazy, sensual look that made Rhys's cock stir.
And his body... gods, his body. The silk sheets had slipped down to his waist, revealing the magnificent expanse of his chest and torso. His pecs were enormous, two perfect slabs of muscle that rose and fell with each breath. His abs were deeply cut, each ridge and valley defined and perfect. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his arms thick with muscle even when relaxed.
And his cock—twelve inches of thick, hard perfection—lay against his abs, the head already glistening with pre-cum.
"You're staring," Elias said with a sleepy grin.
Rhys reached down and wrapped his hand around Elias's cock, stroking slowly from base to tip. The Prince groaned, his eyes fluttering closed, his hips lifting slightly into Rhys's touch.
"Fuck, that feels good," Elias breathed. "You're such a good new buddy, Rhys. Best buddy I've ever had."
Rhys smiled at the simple, earnest words. Elias really did think of their relationship in those terms—they were buddies who happened to get each other off. There was no complexity to it in the Prince's mind, no overthinking. Just pleasure and companionship.
"Happy to help," Rhys murmured, stroking faster. His thumb swiped over the sensitive head, gathering the pre-cum that had pooled there, and Elias's whole body shuddered.
"You're gonna make me cum if you keep doing that," Elias warned, though he made no move to stop Rhys.
"Maybe I want to make you cum," Rhys said, his voice low and teasing.
Elias's eyes snapped open, dark with lust. "Yeah?"
Before Rhys could respond, Elias moved. The Prince was fast when he wanted to be, and suddenly Rhys found himself on his back, Elias looming over him with a playful grin.
"My turn," Elias said.
They wrestled playfully, rolling around in the silk sheets, hands grabbing and groping. Rhys laughed as Elias's superior strength easily overpowered him, pinning him down. But Rhys was quick and slippery, managing to squirm free and get his hands on Elias's chest.
The Prince's pecs were incredible under his palms—hard muscle covered in smooth, warm skin. Rhys squeezed them, his fingers digging in, and Elias groaned.
"Fuck, I love when you play with my pecs," the Prince breathed.
Rhys grinned and leaned in, taking one of Elias's nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and Elias's whole body jerked.
"Shit, Rhys," Elias gasped.
But then the Prince was moving again, using his strength to flip their positions. Rhys found himself on his back with Elias straddling his chest, the Prince's massive cock bobbing just inches from his face.
Elias looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, his chest heaving. "I need your mouth," he said, his voice rough with need. "Please, Rhys. Suck my cock again."
He gripped his shaft and smacked it against Rhys's lips—once, twice, three times. The heavy weight of it, the heat, the way pre-cum smeared across Rhys's mouth... it was intoxicating.
"Please," Elias repeated, rubbing his drooling cockhead all over Rhys's plump lips. "You're so good at it. So fucking good."
Rhys could feel the Prince's desperation, could see it in the way his abs tensed, the way his thighs trembled. Elias was right on the edge, had been for days, and Rhys had been the one keeping him there.
But not yet. Not like this.
Just as Elias started to push his cock between Rhys's lips, Rhys moved. He used his smaller size to his advantage, twisting and flipping them over so that Elias was on his back and Rhys was kneeling beside him.
"Not yet," Rhys said with a wicked grin.
"Rhys," Elias whined, his cock jerking against his abs. "Come on, don't tease me."
"I'm not teasing," Rhys said, wrapping both hands around Elias's massive shaft. "I'm going to make you feel good."
He started stroking, fast and firm, his hands working in tandem up and down the thick length. Elias's back arched off the bed, his head thrown back, his mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the Prince chanted, his hips bucking up into Rhys's grip.
Rhys watched him, mesmerized. Elias was a vision like this—his golden skin flushed with arousal, his muscles taut and trembling, his massive chest heaving with each ragged breath. Sweat was beginning to bead on his skin, making him glisten in the morning light.
"You're so beautiful," Rhys murmured, leaning down to kiss Elias softly.
The Prince's lips were warm and soft, and he kissed back desperately, his tongue pushing into Rhys's mouth. All the while, Rhys kept stroking, his hands slick with pre-cum, the wet sounds of his movements obscene in the quiet room.
"Rhys," Elias gasped against his lips. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna cum."
"Cum for me," Rhys whispered. "Let me see it."
Elias's whole body went rigid, his back arching impossibly high, and then he was cumming. His cock pulsed in Rhys's hands, thick ropes of hot cum shooting out to paint his abs and chest. It was a massive load—more than Rhys had ever seen—and it just kept coming, pulse after pulse, until Elias was covered in his own release.
The Prince collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, his body trembling with aftershocks. Rhys released his softening cock and sat back, admiring his handiwork. Elias looked thoroughly debauched, his skin flushed and sweaty, his abs and chest covered in creamy white cum.
"Holy fuck," Elias breathed. "That was... fuck."
Rhys grinned. "Good?"
"So good." Elias reached up and pulled Rhys down for another kiss, not seeming to care about the mess between them. "You're amazing, you know that?"
Before Rhys could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Your Highness!" a voice called from the other side. It was Marcus, one of Elias's knight friends. "Your father is waiting for you at council. You're late."
Elias groaned. "Shit. I forgot about that." He looked at Rhys apologetically. "I have to go. Council meetings are boring as fuck, but my father insists I attend."
"It's fine," Rhys said, climbing off the bed. "I was thinking of exploring the city anyway."
Elias's eyes lit up. "Yeah? That's a good idea. You should see more of the capital." He was already moving, grabbing a cloth to wipe himself clean before pulling on his clothes with practiced efficiency. "Just... be careful, okay? And don't wear your house colors. You'll get mobbed by people trying to curry favor."
Rhys nodded. "I'll blend in."
An hour later, Rhys stepped out into the bustling streets of the capital, dressed in simple clothes borrowed from one of the palace servants. Without his noble colors, he was just another young man in the crowd, and the anonymity was liberating.
The capital was even more impressive in daylight. The streets were wide and clean, lined with shops and taverns and market stalls selling everything from fresh bread to fine silks. The buildings were tall and well-maintained, their facades painted in bright colors. And everywhere Rhys looked, there were people—merchants hawking their wares, children playing in the streets, nobles in fine clothes being carried in sedan chairs.
And men. So many beautiful men.
Rhys had known that Lyria was accepting of same-sex attraction, but his home region was still relatively conservative in practice. Men might acknowledge their preferences privately, but public displays of affection were rare. Here in the capital, though, it was different.
And the attention Rhys received was immediate and obvious.
He'd barely walked two blocks before a handsome guard winked at him from his post. A few minutes later, a well-dressed merchant's son stopped him to ask for directions, his eyes lingering on Rhys's face and body in a way that had nothing to do with navigation. At a fruit stand, the vendor—a muscular man with dark hair and a charming smile—insisted on giving Rhys a free apple, his fingers brushing against Rhys's hand as he passed it over.
"You're new to the city," the vendor said. It wasn't a question.
"Just visiting," Rhys replied with a smile.
"Well, if you need someone to show you around..." The vendor's eyes traveled down Rhys's body appreciatively. "I'd be happy to help."
Rhys laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
It was like this everywhere he went. Men were bold here, confident in their interest, and Rhys found himself enjoying the attention. He flirted back, letting his natural charm and wit shine through, but he didn't take any of them up on their offers. He was having too much fun just exploring.
He wandered through the market district, admiring the goods on display.
And then he heard the rhythmic clang of metal on metal.
Curious, Rhys followed the sound down a side street until he came to a blacksmith's shop. The front was open to the street, and inside, a man was working at the forge.
Rhys stopped in his tracks.
The blacksmith was... stunning. He was older than Rhys—probably in his late twenties—with a rugged, masculine beauty that was completely different from Elias's golden perfection. His hair was dark and slightly too long, falling into his eyes as he worked. His face was all hard angles and sharp lines, with a strong jaw shadowed by stubble and a nose that looked like it had been broken at least once.
And his body... gods, his body.
He was shirtless, his skin gleaming with sweat in the heat of the forge. His chest was broad and heavily muscled, covered in a light dusting of dark hair. His shoulders were massive, his arms thick with muscle that flexed and bulged as he hammered at the glowing metal on his anvil. His abs were defined, leading down to a trim waist and hips encased in leather breeches that left very little to the imagination.
Specifically, they left very little to the imagination regarding the massive bulge at his groin.
The blacksmith looked up and caught Rhys staring. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
"See something you like?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
Rhys felt his cheeks heat, but he refused to look away. "Just admiring the craftsmanship," he said smoothly.
The blacksmith laughed, a rich sound that made something warm curl in Rhys's belly. "The craftsmanship, huh?" He set down his hammer and walked over, wiping his hands on a rag. "I'm Warren."
"Rhys."
Warren's eyes traveled down Rhys's body slowly, appreciatively. "You're not from around here, are you? I'd remember a pretty thing like you."
"Just visiting," Rhys said, echoing what he'd told the fruit vendor.
"Lucky me." Warren leaned against the doorframe, his posture casual but his eyes intense. "So, Rhys. What brings you to my shop? Need a sword? A dagger? Or just wanted to watch me work?"
Rhys grinned. "Actually, I could use a new sword. Something custom."
"Custom, huh?" Warren's grin widened. "I can do that. But custom work doesn't come cheap."
"I'm sure we can work something out," Rhys said, his voice dropping into a flirtatious purr.
Warren's eyes darkened. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"
Instead of answering, Rhys stepped closer. Warren was taller than him—about Elias's height—and Rhys had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. The blacksmith smelled like smoke and metal and sweat, a heady masculine scent that made Rhys's cock stir.
"Why don't you tell me what you want?" Rhys asked softly.
Warren reached out and placed one large, calloused hand on Rhys's hip. "I think you know what I want."
He pulled Rhys closer, and suddenly Rhys was pressed against that massive, muscular body. He could feel the heat radiating off Warren's skin, could feel the hard planes of his chest and abs. And he could definitely feel the enormous bulge pressing against his stomach.
"Fuck," Rhys breathed.
Warren chuckled. "Like what you feel?"
Rhys reached down and palmed Warren's bulge through his breeches. It was huge—maybe not quite as big as Elias's monster cock, but close. And it was rock hard, straining against the leather.
"Very much," Rhys admitted.
Warren's other hand slid around to Rhys's ass, gripping one cheek and squeezing hard. "Fuck, you've got an incredible ass," he groaned. "I bet it looks even better without these clothes in the way."
Rhys let Warren grope him for a moment, enjoying the rough touch, the way the blacksmith's large hands kneaded his flesh possessively. But then he stepped back, grinning wickedly.
"I'll think about your offer," he said.
Warren looked stunned. "You're just gonna leave me like this?"
"For now," Rhys said with a wink. "But I know where to find you if I change my mind."
He walked away, feeling Warren's eyes on his ass the whole time.
By the time Rhys returned to the palace, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. He was in a good mood, energized by his day of exploration and flirtation. He'd enjoyed the freedom of the city, the attention from beautiful men, the sense that he could be anyone he wanted to be.
But as he approached the palace gates, a guard stopped him.
"Lord Rhys?" the guard asked.
Rhys nodded, surprised to be recognized in his plain clothes.
"You've been summoned to the throne room," the guard said.
Rhys's heart skipped a beat. The throne room? Was the King back? Had he done something wrong?
"Thank you," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
He made his way through the palace corridors, his mind racing. He'd been careful not to cause any trouble in the city. He hadn't revealed his identity or his connection to the Prince. What could the King possibly want with him?
When he reached the throne room, the massive doors were already open. Rhys stepped inside, and his breath caught.
The room was lit by candles, their flickering light casting dancing shadows on the walls. The throne itself seemed to glow in the golden light, and sitting on it, wearing nothing but his breeches and a gold crown, was Prince Elias.
The Prince looked like a god.
His muscular torso was on full display, every ridge and valley of his abs highlighted by the candlelight. His massive chest rose and fell with each breath, his pecs casting shadows that made them look even larger. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his arms thick and powerful. The gold crown on his head caught the light, making his blonde hair seem to shimmer.
And he was looking at Rhys with a smirk that was pure sin.
"What do you think?" Elias asked, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. "Do I look like a king?"
Rhys couldn't speak. He could only stare, his mouth dry, his cock hardening in his breeches. Elias looked powerful and beautiful and utterly irresistible.
"I..." Rhys swallowed hard. "You look incredible."
Elias's smirk widened. "Come here."
Rhys walked forward on shaky legs, his eyes never leaving Elias. When he reached the base of the throne, he did the only thing that felt right.
He knelt.
Elias's eyes darkened with lust. "Fuck, you look good on your knees," he breathed. He reached down and threaded his fingers through Rhys's wavy auburn hair, the touch gentle despite the heat in his gaze. "Tell me about your home."
Rhys blinked, surprised by the request. "My home?"
"Yeah. Estral, right? You've mentioned it a few times, but you've never really described it." Elias's fingers massaged Rhys's scalp gently. "I want to know more about where you come from."
Rhys smiled, touched by the genuine interest in Elias's voice. "It's beautiful," he said softly. "Very different from here. The land is wild and green, with rolling hills that go on forever. The coast is all dramatic cliffs and rocky beaches, and the sea is always crashing against the shore. It rains a lot, but when the sun comes out, everything seems to glow."
"It sounds amazing," Elias said.
"It is. The people are hardy. We have our own traditions, our own way of doing things. It's more isolated than the rest of Lyria, so we've kept a lot of the old ways." Rhys's voice grew wistful.
"I'd like to visit someday," Elias said. "See where you grew up."
Rhys looked up at him, surprised. "Really?"
"Really." Elias tugged gently on Rhys's hair. "Come up here."
Rhys stood and let Elias pull him onto his lap. The Prince's skin was warm beneath him, and Rhys could feel the hard planes of his abs and chest against his back. Elias's arms came around him, one hand splaying across his stomach, the other sliding up to his chest.
"I like learning about you," Elias murmured against Rhys's neck. "You're smart and interesting. Not like the other guys my father brought here."
Rhys turned his head to look at Elias. "What were they like?"
"Boring. Stuck-up. Only interested in my title, not in me." Elias's hand slid under Rhys's shirt, his palm warm against Rhys's skin. "But you're different. You actually talk to me like I'm a person, not just the crown prince."
"You are a person," Rhys said softly. "A very attractive person."
Elias grinned and pulled Rhys's shirt over his head, tossing it aside. "You're pretty attractive yourself."
He leaned in and kissed Rhys's neck, his lips soft and warm. Rhys tilted his head to give him better access, and Elias took full advantage, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin. His hands roamed over Rhys's smooth chest and stomach, exploring every inch.
"Couldn't focus on anything at council. My father kept asking me questions and I had no idea what he was talking about."
Rhys grinned and ground his ass back against Elias's groin. He could feel the Prince's massive cock, hard and straining against his breeches.
Elias groaned. "You're evil."
"You love it."
"I do," Elias admitted. He nipped at Rhys's earlobe. "But I think it's time to stop teasing, don't you?"
Rhys's heart raced. "What did you have in mind?"
Instead of answering, Elias stood, lifting Rhys with him as if he weighed nothing. He set Rhys on his feet and then reached down to grab something from beside the throne—a huge furry hide, thick and soft.
He tossed it onto the floor in front of the throne, and it landed with a soft thump.
Elias's eyes blazed with heat. He reached for the laces of his breeches and undid them, pushing the leather down his hips. His massive cock sprang free, already rock hard and leaking pre-cum.
Rhys grinned and got down on all fours on the fur hide.
Elias stared, his mouth going dry. Rhys looked incredible like this—his broad back tapering to a trim waist, his ass round and perfect. And as he reached back to slide his breeches the rest of the way off, Elias got a perfect view of his smooth, pink hole.
Elias kissed down Rhys's spine, his lips soft and warm. He took his time, kissing and licking every inch of skin, and Rhys shivered with pleasure. When Elias reached the small of his back, he paused.
"You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen," Elias murmured.
And then his tongue was on Rhys's hole.
Rhys cried out, his whole body jerking at the sensation. Elias's tongue was warm and wet, licking over his entrance in slow, deliberate strokes. It felt incredible—intimate and dirty and so, so good.
"Elias," Rhys moaned. "Oh fuck, Elias."
The Prince groaned against him, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through Rhys's body. He licked again, then again, each stroke firmer than the last. And then his tongue pushed inside.
Rhys's arms gave out and he collapsed forward onto the fur, his face pressed into the soft hide, his ass still up in the air. Elias followed him down, his tongue sinking deeper, fucking into Rhys's tight hole with slow, deliberate thrusts.
"Yes," Rhys gasped. "Yes, fuck, don't stop."
Elias didn't stop. He ate Rhys out like a man starving, his tongue pushing deep and then pulling back, his lips soft and perfect around Rhys's rim. The sounds were obscene—wet and sloppy, punctuated by Rhys's moans and Elias's groans of pleasure.
Rhys started moving, pushing his ass back against Elias's face, fucking himself on the Prince's tongue. Elias gripped his hips hard, holding him steady, and tongue-fucked him harder.
"So good," Elias mumbled against him. "You taste so fucking good."
Rhys could hear the wet sound of Elias stroking his own cock, could imagine the Prince on his knees behind him, one hand on Rhys's hip and the other working his massive shaft. The mental image made Rhys's cock leak pre-cum onto the fur beneath him.
Elias pulled back slightly, and Rhys whimpered at the loss. But then the Prince spat on his hole—a hot, wet glob of saliva—and dove back in, his tongue pushing the spit inside. It was filthy and perfect, and Rhys was losing his mind.
"Please," Rhys begged. "Please, Elias, I need more."
Elias pulled back, his breathing ragged. "Yeah? What do you need?"
"You," Rhys gasped. "I need you inside me."
"Not yet," Elias said. "I need to make sure you're ready. Need to make sure you're relaxed."
He flipped Rhys onto his back, and Rhys found himself staring up at the Prince. Elias looked wild—his blonde hair mussed, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes dark with lust. His massive cock jutted out from his groin, so hard it was nearly touching his abs.
"Spread your legs," Elias commanded.
Rhys obeyed, spreading his legs wide. Elias settled between them, and Rhys felt the blunt press of a finger against his hole.
"Relax," Elias murmured. "I've got you."
The finger pushed inside, and Rhys gasped at the intrusion. It felt strange at first, but Elias was patient, working his finger in slowly, letting Rhys adjust. And then he crooked his finger and found that spot inside that made Rhys see stars.
"Fuck!" Rhys cried out, his back arching off the fur.
Elias grinned like a dumb, horny puppy. "Found it," he said proudly. He added a second finger, stretching Rhys open, and Rhys could feel his hole clenching around the intrusion, trying to pull Elias deeper.
"You're so tight," Elias breathed, watching his fingers disappear into Rhys's body. "So hot and wet. Fuck, I can't wait to feel this around my cock."
He finger-fucked Rhys slowly, thoroughly, adding a third finger and scissoring them to stretch him wider. All the while, Rhys watched him, admiring how sexy Elias looked—his massive chest heaving, his abs flexing with each movement, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the fur.
"I think you're ready," Elias said finally, pulling his fingers out.
Rhys whimpered at the loss, feeling empty. But then Elias was positioning himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against Rhys's hole, and Rhys's breath caught.
This was it. This was really happening.
"Please," Rhys begged. "Please, Elias. I need you to fuck me. I need the future king to breed me."
Elias groaned, his eyes rolling back. "Fuck, when you talk like that..."
He started to push inside.
The stretch was intense—more than Rhys had expected, even after the preparation. Elias's cock was huge, and Rhys felt every inch as it slowly sank into him. It burned, but it was a good burn, a fullness that made Rhys feel complete.
He was gripping Rhys's waist so hard it would probably leave bruises, his whole body trembling with the effort of going slow.
Rhys forced himself to relax, to breathe through the stretch. And slowly, inch by inch, Elias sank deeper.
When he was finally fully seated inside, both of them were panting. Rhys felt impossibly full, stretched wider than he'd ever been, and it was perfect.
"Fuck," Elias breathed. "You feel... fuck, Rhys, you feel amazing."
"Move," Rhys gasped. "Please move."
Elias pulled back slowly, and Rhys felt every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against his inner walls. Then he pushed back in, just as slowly, and Rhys moaned.
"Yes," Rhys breathed. "Like that. Just like that."
Elias started to fuck him with slow, deep strokes. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Rhys's, and they breathed the same air as they moved together. Sweat began to bead on their skin, making them slick and hot.
Rhys wrapped his legs around Elias's waist, pulling him deeper, and the Prince groaned. His massive pecs were right in Rhys's face, and Rhys couldn't resist leaning up to suck on one of his nipples.
"Fuck!" Elias gasped, his hips stuttering. "Rhys, that's... fuck."
Rhys sucked harder, his tongue swirling around the tight bud, and Elias started fucking faster. The slow, gentle pace gave way to something more urgent, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the throne room, along with their moans and gasps.
"Harder," Rhys begged. "Fuck me harder."
Elias obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force. Rhys's hole squelched obscenely with each thrust, the wet sounds mixing with their heavy breathing. Rhys reached back and grabbed Elias's ass, feeling the muscles flex and contract as the Prince fucked into him.
"Deeper," Rhys gasped. "I want all of you."
Elias pulled Rhys's legs up, hooking them over his shoulders, and the new angle let him sink even deeper. Rhys cried out, his back arching, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the fur.
"Like this?" Elias grunted, fucking hard and deep. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes!" Rhys practically screamed. "Yes, fuck, yes!"
Elias was hitting that spot inside him with every thrust now, and Rhys was seeing stars. His cock was leaking steadily, untouched, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.
But Elias pulled out suddenly, and Rhys whimpered at the loss.
"Come here," the Prince said, sitting back on the throne. His cock was slick with spit and pre-cum, jutting up from his groin like a pillar. "I want to watch you ride me."
Rhys scrambled up on shaky legs and climbed onto Elias's lap. He positioned himself over the Prince's cock and sank down slowly, taking him all the way to the base.
"Fuck," they both groaned in unison.
Rhys started to move, lifting himself up and dropping back down, bouncing on Elias's massive cock. The Prince's hands gripped his waist, helping him move, and Rhys could feel the strength in those hands, the way Elias could control his movements effortlessly.
"That's it," Elias groaned, his eyes glued to where his cock was disappearing into Rhys's body. "Fuck, look at you. Look at your ass taking my cock. So fucking perfect."
Rhys bounced harder, faster, his bubble butt slapping against Elias's thighs with each movement. He could feel his cheeks jiggling and shaking, could see the way Elias's eyes were locked on the sight.
"You like watching my ass?" Rhys gasped.
"Fuck yes," Elias groaned. "Love watching it. Love feeling it."
He started bouncing Rhys harder, using his strength to lift him up and slam him back down. Rhys squealed with pleasure, his head falling back, his hands gripping Elias's massive shoulders for support.
"My princess," Elias grunted in his ear. "My perfect princess, taking my cock so good."
He loved the way Elias called him that, loved the possessiveness in the Prince's voice.
Elias stood suddenly, still holding Rhys impaled on his cock, and walked over to one of the massive stone columns that lined the throne room. He pressed Rhys's back against the cold stone and started fucking him hard and fast.
The contrast between the cold stone and Elias's hot body was overwhelming. Rhys wrapped his arms around the Prince's neck and kissed him desperately, their tongues tangling as Elias pounded into him.
"I'm close," Rhys gasped against Elias's lips. "Fuck, I'm so close."
"Cum for me," Elias commanded. "Cum on my cock, princess."
Rhys's orgasm hit him like a lightning strike. His whole body seized up, his hole clenching tight around Elias's cock, and he came hard, his release spurting between their bodies, painting both their abs with hot cum.
"Fuck, yes," Elias groaned, feeling Rhys's hole spasm around him. "That's it, baby. Cum for your king."
"Breed me," Rhys begged, still riding the waves of his orgasm. "Please, Elias. I need you to breed me. Fill me up."
Elias's rhythm faltered, becoming erratic. "Fuck, Rhys, I'm gonna... I'm cumming!"
He slammed in deep one last time and held there, his whole body going rigid. Rhys felt the first pulse of cum inside him, hot and thick, and then another, and another. Elias kept cumming, kept fucking through his orgasm, his hips making small, desperate thrusts as he emptied himself inside Rhys.
"Yes," Rhys moaned. "Yes, fill me up. Give me all of it."
Elias's orgasm seemed to go on forever, and when it finally subsided, he collapsed forward, pinning Rhys against the column. They were both gasping for air, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, trembling with aftershocks.
Slowly, carefully, Elias pulled out. Elias carried him back to the fur hide and laid him down gently before collapsing beside him.
They lay there for a long moment, just breathing, staring up at the painted ceiling of the throne room.
And then Elias started to laugh.
It was a surprised, delighted sound, and Rhys couldn't help but join in. They laughed together, giddy and exhausted and completely satisfied.
"That was..." Elias trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't even have words for how amazing that was."
"Yeah," Rhys agreed, still catching his breath. "That was... fuck."
Elias rolled onto his side and pulled Rhys close, kissing him softly. "You're incredible," he murmured. "I'm so glad you're here."
Rhys smiled and snuggled into Elias's embrace. "Me too."