The tension between them in that moment was so thick it felt like it could be carved with a blade. Kael's hands remained clamped around Theron's wrists, his grip tight enough to leave bruising thumbprints on the Prince's pale skin. Theron didn't pull away, he leaned into the aggression, his chest heaving against Kael's.
"You want a monster?" Theron whispered, his eyes dark with a chilling, focused malice. He reached up with one hand, his fingers tangling roughly into Kael's unkempt hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. "Careful what you pray for, Kael. Monsters don't just bite, they consume."
He shoved Kael back with a burst of sudden strength, catching the guard off balance. Kael hit the mattress, the iron frame groaning under his weight. Before he could lunge back, Theron was already at the door, straightening his charcoal doublet with a flick of his wrists.
"Stay in your hole," Theron snapped, his voice regaining its cold, royal edge. "I have a kingdom to run. Try not to miss me too much."
The heavy door slammed, and the bolts slid home with three distinct, final clacks.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Kael paced the small cell, his bare feet slapping against the stone that had been scrubbed clean but still felt cursed. He felt a manic energy buzzing under his skin, the lack of chains was almost worse than the weight of them because it gave him the freedom to realize he had nowhere to go.
He began to move. He dropped to the floor, his massive hands flat against the cold stone, and started pushing his body up and down in a rhythmic, brutal pace. He did hundreds of repetitions until his triceps screamed and his chest felt like it would burst through the linen shirt. He did pull ups using the edge of the stone doorframe until his fingers bled. Every drop of sweat was a prayer for violence. He wasn't just working out, he was sharpening himself into a weapon.
In the quiet intervals, his mind betrayed him. He kept feeling the ghost of Theron's mouth, the way the Prince had looked up at him with those honey eyes filled with such calculated, beautiful hatred. He cursed himself, punching the stone wall until his knuckles were raw. He hated the Princess for her weakness, he hated Theron for his power, but most of all, he hated himself for the way his body reacted every time he heard a footstep in the corridor.
Above, Theron was drowning in a different kind of filth. He sat through a grueling four hour council meeting, his mind drifting to the dark cellar even as he nodded at reports of trade deficits.
The worst part was the evening. The Princess had suffered a complete breakdown, shattering a porcelain vase in their chambers and demanding to know where Kael was openly now, not caring how her husband felt, not that he cared anymore. Yet Theron had to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her shaking hands, playing the role of the concerned husband.
"He was a soldier, my love," Theron lied, his voice a masterpiece of soothing silk. "They are nomadic by nature. He saw the peace of our marriage and decided his work here was done. Do not weep for a man who didn't have the courtesy to say goodbye."
As she sobbed into his shoulder harder at his statement, Theron felt a surge of pure, acidic loathing. He wasn't jealous of her love for Kael, he was jealous that she got to show her emotions while he had to keep his locked in a cage. He wanted to be back in the cellar. He wanted to be the one snarling. He felt a physical ache in his palms, a need to feel the rough, warm skin of the man he had hidden away. He didn't return to the cellar that night. He stayed with his wife, staring at the canopy of the bed, his heart hammering a dark, obsessive beat.
It wasn't until the following night, long after the moon had peaked, that Theron returned. He didn't look like a Prince anymore. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had shed his regal doublet, wearing only a thin white silk shirt tucked into his black trousers.
He threw the door open, not with a key, but with a kick.
Kael was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had spent forty eight hours in a vacuum of his own thoughts. The moment he saw Theron, the tension snapped.
"You're late, Highness," Kael growled, standing up slowly. His shirt was off, discarded on the floor, showing the raw power of his worked out frame, his muscles glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. "Did the Princess keep you busy? Or were you too afraid to face me?"
"I don't fucking fear you," Theron spat, slamming the door behind him. He marched into the center of the room, his face flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and rage. "I spent my night comforting a woman who cries for a ghost while I have the real thing rotting in my filthy basement."
"Maybe she cries because she knows what a hollow, pathetic man she actually married. "Kael taunted, stepping closer.
Theron didn't use a whip this time. He used his fist. He swung, a fast, unrefined punch that caught Kael on the jaw. Kael didn't stumble, he laughed mockingly, the sound dark and jagged. He reached out and grabbed Theron's shirt, the delicate silk ripping in his large hands right away.
"That's it," Kael hissed. "Give me a real fucking fight."
They collided like two storms. It wasn't the clinical torture of the weeks before.. it was a raw, physical brawl. They grappled, shoulders slamming into the stone walls, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the cell. Kael used his weight to pin Theron, but Theron was faster, using his elbows and knees to find the gaps in Kael's defense.
There was no blood, only the sound of skin hitting skin and the frantic rustle of clothes. As they fought, the nature of the struggle began to shift. The aggression remained, but the proximity was becoming electric. Kael had Theron pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against the Prince's chest to keep him in place, their faces so close they were breathing each other's air.
"You're shaking, Theron," Kael whispered, his voice a low, masculine rasp as he breath heavily. He could feel the heat radiating off the Prince, the way Theron's heart was drumming against his own ribs as he himself was catching his breath.
"I'm shaking... with the urge to kill you." Theron countered, but his hands weren't pushing Kael away anymore. They were bunched into the fabric of Kael's trousers, his knuckles grazing the skin of the guard's hips.
The fight had slowed, the violence morphing into a heavy, suffocating tension. Theron looked up at Kael, his eyes wide and clouded with a desperate, angry hunger. His silk shirt was half open, exposing the pale, sweat slicked line of his chest. Kael looked down at him, his stormy eyes fixed on Theron's mouth, his fingers digging into the stone wall on either side of the Prince's head.
"You hate me." Kael stated, the words sounding more like a question.
"I despise you." Theron whispered, his breath hitching. He reached up, his fingers tracing the line of a fresh bruise on Kael's shoulder before digging in, his nails drawing faint white lines on the guard's skin. "I want to destroy you."
"Then do it." Kael challenged, his hips pressing firmly against Theron's, letting the Prince feel exactly how destroyed he was. He was hard as a rock by simply fighting the man before him.
Theron let out a choked sound, a mix of a moan and a snarl at the sensation. He didn't kiss him, that would be too much like love and affection but he buried his face in the crook of Kael's neck instead, then Theron's teeth sank into the junction of Kael's shoulder and neck, drawing a sharp, hissed curse from the guard. The pain was the final catalyst. Theron tried to shove Kael back, his palms slamming into the guard's sweat slicked chest, desperate to reclaim the distance he had just set on fire. "Get off me, you filth!" Theron spat, his voice cracking with a frantic, jagged energy.
Kael didn't budge. Instead, he hooked a thick arm around Theron's waist and tackled him toward the bed. They hit the mattress hard, the iron frame shrieking under the sudden impact. In the scramble of limbs and shredded silk, Kael managed to pin Theron's wrists above his head with one hand, using his other to clamp firmly around the Prince's throat.
The air in the cell turned electric. Kael loomed over him, his knees flanking Theron's narrow hips, his massive chest heaving. He squeezed, not enough to crush the windpipe, but enough to make Theron's honey eyes flutter, his pupils blowing wide with a mix of terror and an unwanted, skyrocketing arousal.
"You want me to stop?" Kael rasped, his voice a low, mocking vibrating rumble that Theron felt in his very bones. "Tell me to stop, Highness. Say the word and I'll go back to my corner like a good little dog."
Theron's response was a visceral defiance. He couldn't move his body much, so he raked his nails across the forearm Kael was using to choke him. He dug deep, his manicured nails carving jagged red furrows into Kael's skin. Beads of blood welled up, stinging as they met the salty sweat on Kael's arm, but the guard didn't flinch. He only tightened his grip, his thumb pressing into the pulse point of Theron's neck.
"I'd rather... die... than ask you for anything." Theron wheezed, a bruised, arrogant smile twitching on his lips. He looked up at Kael, and despite the hate, his body began to traitorously response to the heat. His legs, lean and clad in dark trousers, hooked around Kael's waist, pulling the guard's heavy hips flush against his own. "Is this how you did it? Did you hide in the stables and dream of having a real man's hands on you? Does it burn, Kael? Knowing you're nothing but a tool for me to use?"
Kael's composure shattered. The seductiveness in Theron's voice, the way he arched his back as he spoke, offering himself up even as he spat venom sent a wave of primal heat through the guard's veins. He reached down and tore Theron's trousers open, the sound of fabric rending echoing in the stone chamber as he does the same to his own trousers.
"You talk too much," Kael growled. He didn't use oil, not that he had any anyways, he didn't use care. He used his own spit and the sheer, brutal force of his will. He lined his throbbing tip against the prince hole for a second while staring down at the man under him face before slamming the full length in with a brutal thrust. When he pushed into Theron, the Prince let out a high, choked cry, his head snapping back against the pillow with his lips wide open in shock, pain and discomfort at the new sensation.
Kael started thrusting right away with gritted teeth at how tight and dry the sex was. He can feel the prince tearing a bit around him but that didn't stop him. The sex was a battleground. There was no rhythm of love, only the jagged, violent friction of two men trying to break one another. Kael moved with a punishing intensity, his hands leaving dark, thumb shaped bruises on Theron's pale thighs when he gripped them to keep his legs wide open. Every thrust was a statement of ownership, a reclamation of the power Theron had tried to strip from him in the dark.
Theron, sensing Kael's loss of control, leaned into the depravity. He wrapped his arms around Kael's neck, pulling him down until their lips were inches apart, his breath hot and smelling of the wine he'd had at dinner. "Harder, you peasant," Theron hissed through the pain trying not to react much, however his voice was a lewd, hateful taunt. "Show me that warrior strength. Prove to me that you're more than just a beast in a cage. Or is this all the princess secret lover can do?"
Upon hearing that, Kael growled low in his throat in fury. He began to move his hips in a way that was calculated to drive Kael mad, rolling against him, stroking his insides deeply with his length while Theron tightens around him, his sounds transitioning from pained grunts to sharp, needy gasps that he tried to stifle behind gritted teeth. He wanted Kael to see how much he was enjoying the ruin of his own dignity, he wanted to weaponize his own submissiveness to make Kael feel like the monster he claimed he was.
"You're a whore.." Kael rasped suddenly, his eyes fixed on Theron's flushed face. He watched as the Prince's eyes rolled back upon being called a whore, his mouth hanging open in a silent, beautiful scream of pleasure. "You're a royal, blue blooded whore, and you love that I'm the one doing this to you. You'll never look at your wife the same way again. Every time you touch her, you'll taste me."
"I hate you." Theron moaned, his fingers digging into the fresh scratches on Kael's arm, pulling the guard closer even as he tried to push the words out. "I... I fucking loathe you..."
"Keep saying it," Kael commanded, his pace becoming frantic, his dominance absolute as he pinned Theron's shoulders to the mattress with his own, pressing their bodies together as he dives deeper into him with rougher thrusts that made the whole bed shake under them. "Say it until you truly believe it."
Theron kept his head thrown back, mumbling a breathless 'shut up.. don't command me.' Under his breath as his back arch sharply off the bed, sweaty chest pressing up against Kael's as he feels close.
Their climax was an explosion of mutual loathing. Kael buried his face in the crook of Theron's neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days, as he emptied himself into the Prince without a warning. Theron's body went rigid at the new feeling of being filled up, pushing him to cum hard untouched with a long, shattered cry escaping him as he followed, his entire frame shuddering under the weight of a pleasure that felt like a sin.
They lay there for a long moment, the only sound heard is the frantic sound of their breathing. The hate was still there, cold and sharp as ever, but it was now tangled in a web of physical obsession that neither could escape as it creeps through their veins after having a taste of it.
After a few minutes of them trying to calm down their breaths, Theron was the first to move. He pushed Kael off him with a weak, trembling hand, his face already twisting back into a mask of regal disdain, even as he leaked cum and shivered on the bed from the release. "Get... get away from me," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Kael pulled out of him and stood up slowly, his body aching, the scratches on his arm stinging in the cool air as they have been reopened with Theron's grip on them. He looked down at the Prince.. he looked shattered, exposed, and undeniably ruined. "You'll be back tomorrow night, Theron. We both know it."
Theron didn't answer as they stare at each other with something new and unnamed aside from hate. He pushed himself off the bed carefully, scrambled to gather his ruined clothes, his movements frantic and undignified. He didn't look back as he bolted the door, leaving Kael alone in the dark as he stands there, he didn't stop him or speak, just watched as he left and locked the door behind him, the scent of their encounter lingering in the air like a curse.
.
.
.
The morning sun filtered through the high, arched windows of the royal bedchamber, but for Theron, the light was a physical assault. He stood before a floor length mirror of polished silver, his fingers trembling as he undid the silk ties of his sleeping tunic. The reflection that stared back was a stranger. Across the pale, unblemished skin of his neck sat a dark, violet rimmed bite mark a brand of ownership that pulsed with every beat of his heart. Lower, on his thighs, were the yellowing shadows of thumbprints, and his backside ached with a dull, throbbing heat that made every movement an exercise in agony.
He felt a wave of nausea so potent he had to lean against the marble vanity for a few minutes, panting quietly. How did any of this even happen? He hated Kael. He hated the way the guard had looked at him with that primal victory in his eyes. But more than that, he hated the way his own pulse spiked when he touched the marks. He was disgusted by the fact that he had to spend the morning at a diplomatic brunch, smiling at his wife while the scent of the dungeon and of Kael seemed to cling to his very pores no matter how much rosewater he used.
Across the palace, in the lightless belly of the earth, Kael was faring no better. He sat on the edge of the new bed, staring at the stone wall in silence. His forearm was a mess of dried blood and jagged scabs where Theron's nails had carved into him. The sting was a constant reminder of the Prince's desperate, violent resistance and his eventual, shameful surrender. Kael's jaw ached from the punch, and his body felt heavy, laden with a self loathing so thick he could taste it. He was a soldier, a man of the dirt, and he had been undone by the soft, silk clad hands of a royal he despised to the core. He wanted to rip the bed apart in anger, he wanted to scream until the stone cracked at what happened between them so suddenly, but he stayed silent, his mind replaying the sound of Theron's shattered cries over and over despite himself.
The day was a blur of agonizing pretense. Theron sat through the brunch, his neck swathed in a high collared cravat that felt like a noose. The Princess sat beside him, her eyes vacant.
"You seem... distant, Theron," she whispered, her voice a ghost of its former self.
"The weight of the crown is heavy, my love," he replied, the lie tasting like ash. He looked at her and felt nothing but a cold, distant pity, which quickly curdled into rage. He was trapped in this gilded life, and the only place he felt alive was in a damp hole with a man who wanted to kill him.. and a part of him didn't hate it.
After all the duties and fake smiles at the palace.. Midnight finally arrived. Theron didn't wait for his hair to dry after his bath that night when his wife had fallen asleep while crying once again which he chose to ignore. He threw on a heavy robe of charcoal velvet, cinching it tight over his bare, bruised skin. He grabbed a fresh bundle of tunics for Kael too, not out of kindness, but because he couldn't stand the sight of the guard wearing the ruined, stained clothes from their last encounter. It felt too much like a trophy he wasn't ready to acknowledge.
He descended the stairs, the torchlight flickering against the damp walls. He kicked the door open, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
Kael was standing already, waiting. He had been pacing like a caged panther. He looked at Theron and paused, at the damp hair clinging to the Prince's forehead, the luxurious robe, the scent of expensive soap and his lip curled in a wicked smirk.
"You look like you're heading to a funeral." Kael rasped, his eyes immediately dropping to Theron's neck, where the collar of the robe couldn't quite hide the bite mark. "Or maybe you're just here to show me how well you've scrubbed my scent off your skin?"
Theron slammed the door shut behind him and threw the bundle of clothes at Kael's feet. "I am here to remind you that you are a prisoner still." Theron hissed, stepping into the center of the room. His voice was a jagged edge. "Last night was... a lapse. A moment of weakness in the face of your animalism. It meant nothing."
"Nothing?" Kael echoed, a dark, hollow sound. He stepped toward Theron, his massive chest bare, the scabs on his arms standing out in the torchlight. "You body was begging me, Theron. You were arched under me, holding onto my arm like it was the only thing that could save you. Don't come down here and lie to me. You're addicted to the hate. You're addicted to me."
"You fucking wish. You're insufferable!" Theron shouted, his hand flying out to slap Kael's face.
Kael caught his wrist mid air, his grip crushing. "Then stop coming back. Stop feeding me. Stop looking at me like I'm the only thing in this world that's real to you."
Theron tried to pull away, but Kael yanked him forward, their bodies colliding with a sickening thud. The robe fell open, exposing Theron's marked chest. The sight of his own violence on the Prince's body sent a jolt of electricity through Kael that bypassed his reason entirely.
"I hated every second of it," Theron whispered, his face inches from Kael's, his breath hitching as Kael's firm hand slid down to his naked hip and yanked him closer to him. "I hated the way you touched me. I hated the way you felt inside me."
"And I hated the way you took it," Kael countered, his voice dropping to a low, lethal vibration. "I hated how tight you were. I hated how you felt like a queen beneath me while you talked like a king."
The argument dissolved into a frantic, hands searching each others bodies. Theron reaching down to tear open Kael's trousers roughly while Kael's hands roamed his naked body, gripping his hips tightly to keep him close to him. They tumbled back onto the bed, the mattress groaning as their weight dropped onto it. Theron clawed at Kael's back for support, his nails finding the half healed welts from the weeks before, while Kael pinned the Prince's legs wide, his eyes locked down onto Theron with spite as he spits down onto his palm, smearing it onto his throbbing length.
"You're disgusting," Theron gasped sharply, his head hitting the pillow as Kael entered him with a sharp, unyielding thrust.
"And you're a slut for it," Kael growled, his hands clamping over Theron's wrists, pinning them to the mattress above his head.
The sex was even more violent than the night before, fueled by the fresh self loathing they had brewed all day. There was no softness, no transition, only the rhythmic and rough wet slap of skin on skin and the sound of their mutual insults.
"Is this... what you wanted?" Theron moaned, his eyes fluttering in pleasure as Kael hit him deeper, harder. "To ruin a Prince? To see me... like this?"
"Fuck yes. I want to see you break," Kael hissed, his teeth grazing Theron's ear. "I want to see you realize that you're just as much of an animal as I am. You're not a King, Theron. You're just a hole for me to fill whenever I want."
Theron's response was a high, shattered cry. He began to move his hips to meet Kael's aggressive thrusts with a lewd, desperate energy, his face contorting in a mask of agonized pleasure. He hated himself for the way his body responded to the degradation, for the way Kael's rough, calloused hands felt like the only things that truly belonged to him.
"I... I'll have you executed for this." Theron wheezed, even as he arched his back, seeking more.
"Do it then." Kael challenged, his pace reaching a frantic crescendo as the adrenaline of it all began flowing through his body. "Kill me. But you'll have to do it yourself. You'll have to look me in the eye while you do it."
Theron body shivered and his back stayed arched as he feel himself getting closer and closer to cumming, he forced his wrists free from the guards firm grip over them and moved a shaky hand to stroke his own neglected cock, stroking it with Kael's thrusts, making Kael's grit his teeth at the sight before him, feeling close himself. He shifts his hands to grab both Theron's hips and pin them down onto the mattress. His snapping forward without a break as he chases his release.
They finished in a chaotic, heaving mess, the air in the cell thick with the scent of sex and sweat. When it was over, they didn't hold each other. They didn't even look at each other. Kael rolled off onto his back, his chest heaving, staring at the ceiling with a haunted expression. Theron scrambled to sit up, his robe in tatters, his body shaking with a post coital chill that felt like death but he didn't move toward the door like always this time. He stayed by the edge of the iron bed, his chest heaving, watching Kael sprawl out on his back. The guard looked like a conquered god, his thick muscles twitching with exhaustion, his chest slick with a mixture of their sweat with his eyes closed. Theron's charcoal robe was hanging precariously off his shoulders, the silk damp and heavy.
Instead of leaving, Theron felt a surge of manic, spiteful energy. He didn't want to leave with the image of Kael's victory in his head. He wanted to reclaim the rhythm.
"One round and you're tired, huh?" Theron hissed, his voice trembling with a dark, unstable heat. "I didn't give you permission to rest, you pathetic beast."
Before Kael could even process the words, Theron was straddling him. He sank down onto Kael's lap, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of the guard's thick thighs. The friction of his bare skin against Kael's caused the guard to hiss, his eyes snapping open and to Theron's dark delight, Kael's body responded instantly, his cock thickening and stirring beneath the Prince, rubbing against his leaking ass.
"Look at that," Theron mocked, a cruel, breathless laugh escaping his throat as he gripped Kael's length and lifted his hips up slowly to align the tip with his hole. He began to lower himself back down without a warning, taking Kael back inside with a slow, agonizingly deliberate slide. "Even when you're half dead, your cock knows who its master is. You're nothing but a servant for my pleasure, Kael. A living dildo in a damp hole."
Kael's head hit the pillow at the slowness of it all, making him feel how wet and tight Theron actually is, causing a low, guttural groan to vibrate in his chest. "You... arrogant... fuck." Kael rasped, his hands twitching at his sides, not knowing what to do for a second as he try to process what's happening.
And Theron began to ride him, his movements frantic and unpolished, as if he'd simply chasing his own pleasure and proving his point of Kael's cock being his dildo, his robe sliding completely off his shoulders to pool around his waist. He leaned forward with a small moan, his damp hair brushing against Kael's forehead. "Does it feel good, Kael? To have a Prince work himself on you? To know you're just a—ah! a fucking sex toy for me to use when I'm bored of my life?"
Kael's patience snapped at that, his eyes clouding with desire and despise at how he was making him feel. He reached up, his large, scarred hand coiling around Theron's throat, and he sat up with a sudden, violent surge of strength. He forced Theron back, pinning the Prince's spine against the iron headboard while keeping him on his lap, still buried deep inside him.
"You talk too much." Kael growled angrily, his face inches from Theron's, their lips brushing with every syllable. "You want to be the one in charge? Then take it. But don't you dare forget who's actually fucking who."
Kael began to thrust upward with a brutal, rhythmic force that made the iron bedframe shriek against the stone floor. He used his free hand to deliver a stinging, heavy slap across Theron's flushed cheek, then immediately moved it down to grip Theron's hip, digging his fingers in until the Prince cried out.
"Answer me, you royal slut," Kael hissed, his voice a filthy rasp. "How come you can take cock so well? You had other men fuck that filthy hole of yours?"
"H-hate you..." Theron sobbed out, his head tossing back against the iron bars, eyes half lidded and staring up at Kael, not breaking the eye contact through it all, the words slipped past his mouth without thinking twice. "Nnngh... h-harder.. you filthy animal.. ah!.. fuck.. keep stretching my hole until I can't walk... mmmgh!"
Kael eyes darkened, he felt his body heat up by hearing the prince degrading himself from pleasure yet his hips move faster upon hearing that.
"I'll stretch you until you're fucking ruined." Kael groaned out and tightened his grip on Theron's neck until he was gasping for air, his other hand moving from Theron's hip to his ass, delivering a sharp, resounding spank that echoed in the cell. The sound was followed by Theron's high, surprised and needy moan, a sound he couldn't hide, a sound of pure, unadulterated physical surrender.
"You love it huh.." Kael taunted, his hips slamming into Theron's with a wet, rhythmic thud. "You love being manhandled by a guard. You love that I don't give a damn about your crown when I'm buried in your guts. You're just a cock hungry mess, aren't you?"
"Fuck... ah!" Theron gasped, his hands clawing at Kael's back again, his nails drawing fresh blood from the scabs and he closed his eyes. "I-I'm not!... nnh... a whore! just don't stop... you beast... ah, fuck!"
The hate was still there, vibrating in the air like a live wire, but it was being drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming friction of their bodies. They were talking dirty to each other under the guise of insults, their words a lethal blend of venom and lust. Kael flipped Theron over suddenly, shoving his face into the pillow and mounting him from behind, his hands gripping Theron's hair to pull his head back roughly causing Theron to slam his fists onto the bed and grip onto the blanket shakily.
"Look at the wall, Theron," Kael commanded, his voice a dark, possessive growl as he hammered into him, yanking Theron's body back to slam against him by his hair. "Remember this damp, dark hole. This is the only place you're real. Up there, you're a lie. Down here, you're just my favorite place to cum."
Theron's response was a shattered, high pitched wail into the mattress, his body shaking with the force of an orgasm that felt like an execution. Kael followed a second later at Theron's sounds, his entire frame going rigid as he spent himself inside the Prince, his grip tightening onto Theron's hair before letting go with a grunt.
They collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs and damp silk. The silence that followed was heavy, the only sound the ragged, desperate gasps for air. But just as the pleasure consumed them, The loathing returned almost instantly, cold and sharp, as the physical fog cleared.
Theron pushed himself up on shaky hands, his body trembling, his skin covered in a map of Kael's handprints. He looked at Kael with a gaze of such pure, concentrated hatred that it felt like a physical blow.
"I'm going to destroy you for this." Theron whispered, his voice a broken, jagged ruin.
"You've been saying that everyday, Highness." Kael replied, his voice equally cold, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "And yet, here we are."
Theron rolled his eyes and threw a firm yet shaky punch to Kael's chest, making the man raise an eyebrow but stays still as he watched the prince stand up, gathering his ruined robe and throwing it back onto himself, his movements stiff and pained. He once again made his way to the door and didn't look back at Kael, Theron's hand was on the iron bolt, his knuckles white, but he couldn't pull it. The air in the cell was thick with the scent of ozone and spent lust. Kael was off the bed in a second, his bare feet silent on the stone. He didn't grab Theron to stop him, he grabbed him to mark him once again.
Kael spun the Prince around, slamming him against the cold iron door. His hands clamped onto Theron's shoulders, and before the Prince could spit another insult, Kael buried his face in the side of Theron's neck, the side that was still unmarred. He didn't kiss it. He sank his teeth into the tender muscle, biting down with a feral, possessive aggression.
Theron let out a sharp, strangled pained scream, his back arching against the door. "You... monster!"
Kael didn't let go until he felt the skin break slightly between his teeth, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He pulled back, panting, staring at the twin mark he had created. "Now they're even." Kael rasped, his eyes dark as he lick the blood off his lips slowly. "Go back to your palace, Theron. Wear your high collars and your fake smiles. But remember that under all that silk, you're covered in my teeth marks."
"Oh shut the fuck up.. I will see you rot for this." Theron whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and a terrifyingly sharp arousal. He didn't look back but this time as he threw the bolts and vanished into the darkness of the corridor.