A Prince's Pride

*Milo*

I have a weird habit where, when I follow the Prince, I make sure to match my footsteps to his so the echoes of our footsteps off the stones walls of the Grand Palace align perfectly. I’m doing this now as I follow behind him. As his Royal Attendant, I’m meant to look at the back of his head out of respect as I follow him. If his ass didn’t look so good in those pants, maybe I could accomplish it. 

His guard, Sir Henry Oswald, marches next to him on his right. I applaud Sir Oswald for his job, but the guy is too paranoid. Even here, in the middle of the palace, which is surrounded by guards, Sir Oswald sweeps his eyes around looking up into even the ceiling as though an assassin could be hanging from the stone above. I have to time my glances as Prince Heris’s ass between Sir Oswald’s sweeps of the corridor.

The three of us stop at the door that leads into the throne room. 

“You can continue on in without us,” says Prince Aaron to Sir Oswald, who looks at him, then opens his mouth as if to argue, but he doesn’t get the chance. “Go,” he commands. Sir Oswald bows and passes through the door, opening it only enough for his body to slide through.

“I don’t want to do this,” says Aaron to me when the door shuts behind his guard. 

“Pretty sure you don’t have a choice, Your Highness,” I say, emphasizing the last two words and giving a bow.

“Stop that,” he says, pushing my shoulder. “You know I hate when you act all formal with me.” He puts his hand on the side of my head and strokes his thumb against my cheek. I take a step back.

“Not here,” I say, glancing around, although the corridor is vacant. Still, if we were caught…

Aaron gives a solemn nod to me, turns, and pulls open the door.

“Announcing,” says the guard standing on the other side of the door, his booming voice loud enough to reach everyone standing in the throne room, “His Royal Highness, Aaron Heris, Crown Prince of Midoor.” 

I follow the Prince into the throne room. On the left, set upon a raised platform are four thrones. On either side of the platform are the Royal Attendants, the servants who see to the Royal Family. I join Marcus Rhodes, the Attendant to the King on the left side. He and I mirror the two women, who see to the queen and princess on the other side.

Aaron walks up to the platform where the four thrones sit.

 One of the thrones is large, made of gold with rubies encrusted upon it. On it sits His Royal Majesty, Thedore Heris, King of Midoor. To his left is a smaller throne, this one silver, encrusted with sapphires. On it sits Her Royal Majesty, Elaine Heris, Queen of Midoor. To either side of the King and Queen’s thrones sits a plain throne of gray metal. On the Queen’s left sits Her Royal Highness, Riley Heris, Princess of Midoor. The throne to the right of King Thedore Heris sits empty.

 As the prince, Aaron doesn’t have to bow to his parents, but he nods his head at each of them in turn before ascending the steps up to them and standing before them.

“My son,” says the King. He’s an older man, in his sixties. He’s bald, although I know that’s by choice, but his eyebrows are a bushy silver, and his beard, also silver, is that of a lumberjack’s. His queen, although in her sixties as well, is still beautiful, her long black hair cascading in waves down her back. “Are you ready for today’s court session?”

“Father,” says Aaron, “you know I don’t want to do this.”

“And yet,” says the King, “you must. As my eldest child, there will come a day when you rule the Kingdom of Midoor and you will be required to do your duty to your people. You should be so lucky that I am only asking you to announce the sentence, rather than make a judgment as my father had with me.”

As I was standing beside the throne, although off the dais, I see Aaron roll his eyes. I know his father had as well, but the King seemingly decided to ignore it, as he didn’t call attention to it. Maybe he didn’t want the audience of the court to realize it had happened. 

“I will do it,” says the Princess, “if my brother doesn’t want to.”

I know better than that. Riley doesn’t like to do anything relating to politics. She’s just trying to get a rise out of Aaron. It works.

“I’ll do it,” says Aaron, begrudgingly. He isn’t one to shirk his responsibilities, no matter how irksome. 

“Good boy,” says the King.

When Aaron sits on his throne, a servant carrying a golden crown on a pillow walks up to me. I lift the crown from the pillow, walk up the dais, and stand before the Prince. He bends his head toward me so I can place the crown upon his head. Unlike his father’s, Aaron’s crown doesn’t have any jewels in it. It’s a simple ring of gold.

“Thank you,” he says to me. I bow to him and retreat to the side of the dais.

Over the next few minutes, talk fills the room as the nobles wait for the King to start court and as more people filter in through the large doors. The Royal Family sits on their thrones, watching as the room fills up. Once the invited are settled, everyone grows quiet.

“Court is now in session,” says the King. He pauses, scanning his subjects in the room. “Today, we have but one thing on the agenda. A terrible crime has been committed in our city by the terrorist group known as the Red Hand.”

Nobody speaks. It’s not just the authority of the King holding their tongues. It’s the mention of the Red Hand. The Red Hand is a terrorist group bent on destroying the current monarchy for their progressive views. They believe that some of the monarchy’s views go against the teachings of their gods, Shevor and Shevra. 

“Bring her in,” says the King. A few moments later, a woman is dragged in by several guards. She’s dressed in a simple black shirt and shorts, the usual wear of prisoners. Her black hair is tangled and greasy looking, sticking to her face and neck. She’s paler than I remember her being when she was first captured and her collarbone is more prevalent, like the guards haven’t been feeding her enough food. Truth be told, I hope they haven’t been.

“Today,” says the King, “Crown Prince Aaron will pass judgment upon this prisoner. Prince Aaron, if you please.”

I bow as everyone else does when Aaron stands. He looks down at the prisoner with disgust on his face. Even still, I know he’s hurting inside. True, this woman deserves the punishment that’s coming to her. And, the punishment wasn’t even decided by Aaron, although I know he’d make the same call were he the king. But Aaron is too kind of a man to find any pleasure in this.

“Cassandra Penner,” says Aaron. “You stand here today, accused of crimes more heinous than this court has seen in years. Your charges are as follows: you, as a known member of the Red Hand, did target a carriage carrying orphans and set it ablaze, killing eight defenseless children, the youngest of which was seven years old. In the–”

“It wasn’t supposed to be kids!” shouts Cassandra. She looks to the King and shouts, “It was supposed to be you!”

“So you confess that your target was your king?” asks Aaron.

“He is no king of mine,” says Cassandra. “There is only one king: the True King, my lord and savior, Shevor. The rest of you will rot in hell!” Cassandra clears her throat in a long hock, and spits a wad of phlegm at Aaron, though it misses by several feet.

“Cassandra Penner, you have been found guilty of the crimes of murder, vandalism, and treason. With the power vested in me by the Crown of Midoor…” Aaron’s voice trails off, his words faltering. He glances at me. I see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He turns his attention back to Cassandra.

“By the power vested in me by the Crown of Midoor,” says Aaron again, his voice stronger, “I hereby find you guilty of all charges and sentence you to death. Your hanging will commence at sunset. Any objections to the Word of the Crown?” With that last question, Aaron looks around at the court member. Technically, any of them can object to the ruling and argue their case, even though the king can simply enforce the ruling.

Nobody speaks up, though.

“Court is dismissed,” says Aaron.

He walks over to me.

“I’m going to take a walk,” says Aaron. “Come with me?” I nod and follow him out of the throne room. No guard follows us, even though one of them is supposed to tail the prince at all times. I don’t care, though.

I follow Aaron through the palace, down several stairways, then out a side door into a secluded garden. I know where he’s going even before I see it. It’s our spot. An area of the garden where a large wire cage sits. I don’t know how long it’s been here, but the plants have grown over it so nobody could see if even if they stood in a window and looked down. This time of year, the vines have sprouted beautiful purple and yellow flowers. 

We’ve barely entered the dome when Aaron pushes me against the wall. He pushes his lips against mine and kisses me deeply, his arms wrapping around me as if he’s worried I’m going to float away. When we break apart, I look at him and smile.

“You’re still wearing your crown, Your Highness,” I say. He rolls his eyes, pulls the crown from his head, then looks at me. Before I can say anything, he puts the crown on my head. Oddly enough, it fits, sliding over my blonde hair and resting perfectly on my head. Still, a shock of fear shoots through me. I reach up to take it off, but Aaron grabs my arms, stopping me.

“Don’t,” he says. “I like it on you.”

“I would be executed if the King found out,” I say. 

“Don’t worry, my prince,” he says, pecking my lips with his. He pulls back to look into my eyes with his striking blue ones. “I won’t tell the king.” Aaron kisses my neck, then my collarbone. He runs his tongue up the side of my neck, stopping at my earlobe which he bites, forcing a quick gasp out of me. I’m gripping his head, my hands running through his hair.

“Your Highness?” a voice calls out.

I pull the crown off my head, and not a moment too soon. Sir Oswald steps into the dome and looks at us, his eyes lingering for a moment on the crown in my hand. Not that it matters. As the prince’s attendant, I’m one of the few people in the realm allowed to handle the crown. Even Sir Oswald isn’t allowed to touch it. I’m just not allowed to wear it. I’m more worried when Sir Oswald’s eyes lock onto Aaron’s tousled hair.

Sir Oswald knows about me and Aaron. I’m not sure when he figured it out, but he’s always knocked on the door to Aaron’s room, even when I was inside. Although, I suppose that’s not too odd. As Aaron’s attendant, I help him dress and help bathe him. I’m supposed to see Aaron naked. I’m not supposed to enjoy it as much as I do, but I can’t help that.

“Your father wishes to see you in his chambers,” Sir Oswald tells Aaron. He looks at me and adds, “And you should get that crown back to its rightful place, Milo.”

“He’s just holding it for me, Sir Oswald,” says Aaron. I could groan in annoyance. I love Aaron, but he’s too quick to defend me. It’s unbecoming of someone of his station to jump in, especially when Sir Oswald isn’t accusing me of any wrongdoing.

“Of course, Your Highness, I meant no disrespect. It is, however, an artifact of the Royal Family.”

“Tell my father I’ll meet him in ten minutes,” says Aaron. Sir Oswald bows, sweeps his eyes over us once more, and walks away.

Aaron and I look at each other and burst out laughing, though we’re trying to keep quiet. I take a step toward him and start to push his hair back in place.

“Your hair is all messed up,” I say. Aaron shrugs as if it couldn’t possibly matter. He looks at me as if we’re the only two people in the world, then kisses me.

“I’d better go see my father,” he says. “And you should get that crown back to its rightful place, Milo,” he adds, imitating Sir Oswald’s slow, deep voice.

“Right away, Your Royal Highness,” I say, bowing to him. I feel a pang of satisfaction when I see him roll his eyes, annoyed at my formality.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve taken the crown back up to Aaron’s bed chambers and placed it on the disembodied mannequin head that sits upon his dresser. I spend the rest of the time waiting for Aaron to return from his meeting with his father cleaning his room.

I like my job, even without the added benefits that happen behind closed doors. I’m well-paid, the work is easy, and since Aaron would rather me be his fulltime boyfriend and not have to clean up after him, he gets annoyed when I go above and beyond taking care of him. And I so love to annoy him. 

As if my imagining his annoyed face summons the man himself, Aaron enters his chambers, closing the door behind him. He looks around, sees how clean it is, and rolls his eyes at me. Ah, the satisfaction of a job well done, both cleaning his room and annoying him simultaneously.

“You know you don’t have to clean my room for me,” he says, walking up to me and kissing me gently. I want to rip his clothes off right here and pull him onto the bed I’ve made, but it would be too risky during the day. I’ll have to contend myself with waiting until nightfall.

“It’s my job,” I tell him. “So what’d your father want?” I often wonder about the relationship between the attendants of the other members of the Royal Family and those they take care of. Would the Princess’s attendant have asked what she and the King spoke about?

Probably not.

“It was just pomp,” says Aaron. “He wanted to tell me that he’s proud of the way I handled myself and gave me a lecture about the duties of a king. As if he hasn’t spent my entire life grooming me to take the throne.”

“Well, it is his job as the king to make sure his heir is ready to take the throne,” I tell him, straightening his shirt and pulling a stray hair from his shoulder. I run my hand along his stomach is if I’m smoothing the material, but I just want to feel his abs. I can feel him flexing beneath my touch, the showoff. 

“I think my shirt is straight enough, Milo,” he says when I’ve run my hand along it for the fourth time.

“Just making sure,” I say with a smirk. He rolls his eyes again. I play another game where I try to see how many times I can get him to roll his eyes in a day. So far, my record is twenty-nine. Unfortunately, my day is already half over and I’ve only gotten eight. Oh well. I’ll try again tomorrow.

“I hate this,” says Aaron, suddenly. 

I pull my hand away from him quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No,” he interjects. “Not you touching me. I, well, I like that a lot, actually. It’s the hiding and the sneaking around. I just want…” he trails off, but I don’t need him to continue. I know what he’s saying. I want it too.

The hardest parts of my job are when I’m supposed to attend to Aaron, but while in the presence of the king and queen. At dinner that night, I stand dutifully away from the table while the Royal Family eats their dinner. I’ve already eaten, all of the staff have. They don’t want to hear our bellies grumble with hunger while they dine. I’m the only servant here at the moment, though more will come in when it’s time to switch courses. Until then, I am to keep their cups full.

“Milo,” says Aaron to me, “more water, please.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” I say. I grab the jug of water from a nearby table. I step up next to him and fill his cup. He sneaks a grab of my leg and I jump.

“Are you alright, Milo?” asks the King, looking at me.

“Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies, I…” I try to think of an excuse and decide on the truth. “The Prince grabbed my leg to frighten me.”

Aaron wouldn’t dare roll his eyes now, but I know he’s annoyed.

“Is this true?” ask the King of his son. 

“Yes, Father,” says Aaron. “Just a little joke between us boys.”

He glances up at me and almost telepathically relays his annoyance at me. 

“Boys,” says Princess Riley, sounding exasperated. “Milo, more wine, please.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” I say, switching out the water jug for the wine and filling the Princess’s cup before returning to my post, my hands behind my back, my spine straight.

“Has there been any words about the Lower Reach?” asks Aaron, looking at his father.

The King glances around, but there’s nobody in the dining hall but his family, two guards, one of whom is Sir Oswald, and me. As I’m sworn to secrecy, the King doesn’t hesitate to offer his son the information he requested.

“King Zannir has cut all ties with Midoor, I’m afraid,” he says. “He’s embargoed all trade with us.”

“We don’t need trade from him anyway,” says the Queen in disdain. 

“No,” agrees the King, “but it could be a sign that we are heading for war. I have a messenger traveling there now who should return within the week.”

“Why would Zannir want to start a war with us?” questions Princess Riley, taking a sip of her wine.

“Midoor is set in the center of the continent,” says Aaron. “It’s why we’re the hub for trade in all of Candoria. If Zannir takes us over, he’ll be the central hub.”

For a moment, I think it’s odd Riley doesn’t know this, but she’s confided in me several times that she doesn’t care about politics. She’s actually glad she wasn’t the firstborn. She has no intention to rule.

“That’s exactly right,” says the King, looking at his son proudly.

I hope we don’t go to war. Midoor has been at peace for my entire twenty-two years of life. 

Later that night, I follow Aaron into his room. Another servant is already there, dusting. As she leaves, Aaron thanks her and she bows to him.

“Draw me a bath, please, Milo,” he says, then lays down on his bed, fully clothed. 

I walk into his bathroom, the door to which is always open and turn on the water, feeling for when it’s hot enough and pull the tab to close the drain. As the bathtub fills, I add soap and scented oil. I pick honeysuckle oil because it’s my favorite smell.

“It’s ready,” I tell Aaron, then unashamedly watch him as he disrobes. 

At 6’3”, Aaron is taller than me by two inches. He keeps his face clean shaven, his short brown hair is sculpted with a gel so it stands up, and his bright blue eyes shimmer beautifully in the candlelight. He isn’t flexing, so I can’t see his abs, but his chest is defined with a light scattering of hair across his pecs and a trail that leads right down to his perfectly trimmed pubic hair. His cock is thick and, although he’s a grower, not a shower, his cock is still impressive, hanging in front of him.

He smiles as I watch him climb into the tub and sink into the water. I made sure not to add so much soap that the water would become opaque. What can I say? I like to see him.

I sit on the back of the tub where there’s a small platform, his head between my legs. I dip a sponge into the water and start sponging off his exposed skin, starting at the back of his neck. He isn’t even dirty, but that doesn’t stop me from wiping every inch of him I can reach. He dips under the water for a moment, wetting his hair. I drop the sponge into the basin and start scrubbing his hair with my fingers. It’s not dirty, either, but I know he loves his head being massaged. Both of them, in fact.

My hands move down to his neck, kneading the muscle.

“Mmmm,” he moans as I work a knot loose. “Your hands are so amazing.” 

I move down to his shoulders and feel him relaxing in my grip. He bends his head back and looks at me. I kiss him, but it’s slightly awkward as his head is upside down from my perspective, so I twist around him, positioning myself beside the tub, not breaking contact with his lips.

“I dropped the sponge,” I say when we break apart. I reach into the basin and my hand finds his cock. He’s already hard.

“That’s not the sponge,” he whispers with a smile.

“Oops, let me see if I can find it,” I say, rubbing his cock in the water. 

“Maybe you’ll be able to find it if I get out of the tub,” he says, then stands. I grab a towel and notice when his eyes lock on the bulge of my raging boner trying to rip through my pants. I dry Aaron off, making sure to get everywhere. 

Since his feet are the last things I dry, I’m already on my knees in front of him, so I take his cock into my mouth when I know he isn’t expecting it. 

He gasps as his cock slides into my throat. I cup his balls as I suck back up his length, swirl my tongue over the tip of his cock, and plunge back down, brining his cock all the way into my throat, my lips wrapping around the base of his meat.

“Let’s move to the bed,” he says. “Take off your clothes.”

I don’t need telling twice. Aaron lays on the bed, his head where his feet should go. I climb on top of him, my head at his cock, and swallow him again. He spreads my cheeks with his hands and his tongue finds my hole. I groan in pleasure, his cock still in my mouth, as his tongue flicks across the sensitive skin of my hole. He moves away from my ass for a second to suck one of my balls into his mouth, his hand stroking my cock.

I pull his cock out of my mouth and move myself down so my cock is positioned above his mouth. He opens and I slide my cock into this throat and start face fucking him. He sucks hard, pulling the skin as I slide in and out of his mouth. I desperately need to be inside him. As I fuck his throat, he’s stroking his cock, using my saliva as lube.

He pulls himself away and lays back on the pillows after brining one up under his ass so it’s raised.

“I need you,” he groans. I move forward and pull a bottle of lube out of his bedside table, unlocking it with a key that’s magnetized to the bottom of it. I slather up my cock, then slap my cock against it a couple times. 

“Wait,” he says, just as I’m about to enter him. He gets up from the bed and moves to the dresser. When he comes back, he has the crown in his hands. He places it on my head and gets back into position.

“Fuck me, my prince,” he says. I push my cock into his hole and it feels so good, like his hole was made for my dick. As I begin to fuck him, I lean back and watch my cock as it slides in and out of him. He's flexing his stomach, making his abs prominent because he knows how much I enjoy them. 

I lean forward, place my hands on either side of him, and begin plowing him hard and deep. He's gasping quietly, trying not to moan. I wish he could, but if someone hears and comes to investigate, we'll be in trouble. He leans up to me and kisses me while I fuck him. 

"Shhh," he says into my mouth. I hadn't noticed the sounds of our skin slapping together. True, it was just Sir Oswald outside, but out of respect for him, I didn't want him to hear us banging. 

I slow down, making love to the Prince, kissing him gently as he pants against my skin. 

It's been days since we've been able to get alone time together, so I don't last long. 

"I'm about to cum," I say. 

"Cum on my cock," he says. I pull out and start jerking my dick until I feel my orgasm swell and I shoot onto his cock. He swirls my cum around his cock and uses it as lube as he starts jerking himself off. I shove my cock back in him and fuck him while he rubs his cock. 

I go soft as he's jerking off, but I stay in him and can feel his ass convulse as he cums on his abs, ropes of thick white shooting across his abdomen, some finding their way up to his chest. 

He smiles at me in a satisfied way as he lays back against the pillows. I pull out of him and kiss him. 

"I need another bath," he says, looking down at his stomach. 

We get up from the bed head into the bathroom where I use a towel dipped in the bath water to wipe my dick clean. I hand the towel to Aaron who uses it to clean himself as I start to dress. 

A knock sounds at the door. In a panic, I dress quickly, pulling my shirt on over my head and pulling my pants up. 

"Who is it?" asks Aaron, pulling on a pair of pants.

"It's me," says the person on the other side of the door. It's his sister, Princess Riley. I move to the door after checking that Aaron is dressed and open it. 

When Riley sees me, her eyes bulge. She pushes me into the room and closes the door behind her. 

"Why are you wearing his crown?!" she demands. Aaron looks to me, horror in his eyes. I forgot I was wearing it. I pull it from my head quickly and look between Aaron and his sister. 

"I can explain," says Aaron, hurrying to my defense. 

"You know what," says Riley, putting her hands up, palms out as if in surrender, "don't. Especially not if it's a sex thing." Though she probably didn't want to know, the look on Aaron's face tells it all. 

"That's gross," she says. 

I move to the dresser and put the crown back on the mannequin's head. I try to look ashamed as Riley levels a stare at me. 

"You guys have to be more careful," she says. She's speaking to both of us, but only looking at me because I'm the more responsible one out of us two. "If it had been our dad…" she continues, but doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't need to. I would be executed. 

"Well thankfully," says Aaron, "it was only you."

Thank the Gods, I think. Riley knows about us and isn't likely to tell their parents about me wearing the crown. I decide to never wear it again. The risk isn't worth it. Not when I'm already fucking the King's son as well. Although the way Aaron was looking at me…

None of us know what the King would do if he found out Aaron and I were together. The best he could do is fire me and order us to never see each other again. The worst he could do is have me executed. Honestly, I'd rather be executed than to never be able to see Aaron again. 

"What are you doing here anyway?" asks Aaron. 

"Well I was going to suggest that the three of us and Oswald go on a picnic tomorrow in the Crown Wood, where you two could be all gross and couple-y without having to hide, but you guys are clearly too comfortable as it is."

"Milo, maybe you should go home," suggests Aaron. "I'll see you in the morning?" 

I nod and Aaron kisses me goodnight. 

"Goodnight, Your Highness," I say to him, earning me another eye roll. I bow to Riley, repeat the words to her, and leave Aaron's room.