by H Q Kingsley
“Will you relax?” Omar said, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Let me do my job.”
“I’m pretty sure changing my clothes doesn’t have anything to do with your job,” I managed to get out, and he pinned me with a sharp look that made my mouth snap closed.
He wore that face well, and it made me want to obey him immediately. Just to please him.
So I forced myself to lay back down, hugging Teddy for dear life while Omar worked my pants open and off of me. And then I was just left in my underwear. My wet, cum-stained underwear.
My face was on fire with embarrassment, and I wanted to grab the nearest pillow and smother myself with it, which only got worse when Omar’s hands on me made my dick take interest again.
Why was this happening to me? Why did I have to be so weird all the time?
I grabbed for one of the pillows as my cock grew harder and more obvious. I pulled it over my face so I could hide. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, the words muffled through the pillow.
“What?” Omar asked. “I can’t hear you if you’re going to hide under a pillow.”
I groaned and moved the pillow away from my face, opening my mouth to apologize again, but then I caught sight of Omar’s face.
He was looking at me, right down at my bare legs and the rest of me, but there was no disgust or judgment or even pity on his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, and his breathing was heavy, and just for a moment, I was pretty sure I saw him lick his lips, but that might have been a hallucination from the alcohol. I wasn’t sure. I still felt pretty drunk, and my heart was threatening to beat itself out of my chest.
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said again, and my voice sounded very small.
For a second, Omar just kept staring and then he shook his head. “Hey, it’s fine. We’ve been drinking and sometimes shit happens when guys are drinking. Don’t worry about it.”
But he still looked hungry. It was one of the first times I’d ever been able to read him, and although I wasn’t sure if I was reading him right, it felt like that was the expression I was seeing on his face.
What did that mean? What did he want from me? Was it just the drinking?
He ran a hand over his face, and then he was back to business, helping me into my pajama pants and pulling them up quickly, hiding my underwear and the erection in them. Once I was dressed, he took a big step back, putting distance between himself and my bed.
“So,” he said, glancing at me and then away again. “Tonight was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
Despite everything, hearing that made me smile so big my cheeks ached. After all the weird things I’d done and how I’d reacted to something as simple as being on the back of his lion, he still wanted to spend time with me.
I didn’t know if it was pity or him actually wanting to be around me, but either way, I would take it.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’d like that. Maybe no more drinking for me, though.”
Omar laughed, and the sound filled the room. “More for me, then.” He was still smiling as he turned to leave.
“Omar?” I said softly, stopping him.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For being so nice to me.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s no problem. You’re nice to be nice to.”
His dark eyes lingered on me for a moment more, and I didn’t look away. It was almost like that moment from before, electric and bright, and I didn’t think I could keep blaming it on the alcohol.
And then he was leaving, slipping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
9
Omar
Fucking hell, what a night.
When I’d suggested that Zyke and I go out for a drink, I didn’t think it was going to end up with me going back to my room, hard as a fucking rock, mouth still watering from the way he’d smelled.
I figured I’d get him out of his shell a little, get him to laugh and lighten up after watching his family dump all over him, but all I could think about was his laugh, his smile, and the way he’d looked with his pants off, looking at me with that pink flush on his cheeks.
It was harder than it should have been to keep my hands off of him when I’d been in his room. I changed him, and the whole time, all I wanted was to rip his underwear off and get my hands or mouth on his sweet cock. To touch and taste him until he fell apart, sobbing my name in that soft voice he used when he was embarrassed.
Fuck, I was in too deep. I was supposed to be keeping him safe, but I couldn’t deny how attracted I was to him. Every time he gave me the full force of his eyes, all I wanted was to pull him closer and hold onto him forever.
He was so beautiful. Shy and sweet, but smart as hell. And the way he’d looked when he managed to start the car and drive it successfully was so fucking adorable.
It killed me that he didn’t think he was capable of things, and I wanted to show him he was wrong. That everyone was wrong about him. But at the same time, the way he let me take care of him did things to me.
Things that resulted in my cock being rock-solid in my jeans, apparently.
As soon as I got back to my room and had the door closed and locked behind me, I was working myself out of my pants and underwear, freeing my cock and breathing a sigh of relief.
The air in the room was cool against my heated skin, and I licked my lips, the smell of Zyke’s arousal still in my nose, coating the back of my throat with its delicious flavor.
I bet he tasted fucking divine. I wanted to kiss every inch of him, from his slender ankles all the way up to his cock. I wanted to know what it looked like. If it was cute and small like he was, or if he secretly had a big dick in those duck pajamas.
I wanted to watch him squirm, to see that flush travel down his neck to his chest. To hear the sounds he would make when I bit down on his thighs and licked him all over.
“Fuck,” I groaned, closing my eyes. I’d been doing so well at not getting carried away, but there was still enough booze in my system, combined with the steady and unignorable pulse of pure fucking want that coursed through me, that I didn’t care anymore.
My cock was throbbing with the need to be touched, and I wrapped my hand around it, squeezing tightly and letting out a shuddering breath.
I closed my eyes, and just for the moment, just that one time, I let myself entertain the thoughts I’d been trying to push away.
I imagined what it would be like if I'd given in and yanked that underwear off of him.
They were wet and cum-stained, and I knew it was because of me. It was because he wanted me.
That flush on his cheeks, the way he squeaked and avoided my gaze. He wanted me to do things to him, and fuck, I wanted that, too.
I would have gotten him naked, shown off that adorable body, and practically worshiped him with my hands and mouth.
My hands were big and calloused from working and fighting all my life, and I knew they would have looked massive on his delicate waist, holding him down, leaving fingerprints all along his skin that marked him as mine.
I moaned softly at that thought, working my hand up and down my shaft slowly, taking my time.
If I was only going to give in and do this once, I wanted it to be good, not rushed.
I imagined the sounds he would make. He'd be shy at first, of course. Unsure, but willing to please. I'd tell him he was beautiful, and he'd blush so pretty and look away, and I would bring his eyes back to mine, turning his head to face me.
And he'd let me. He followed instructions so beautifully after he was done freaking out about things, and I wanted that. I wanted him to obey me, and to know that I only had his best interests at heart.
When he looked at me with those beautiful eyes, I would reward him. I'd kiss those soft lips and then move down lower to his neck, leaving a mark there, too. His collarbone, his chest. I'd lap my tongue over each pert nipple, trying to see what kinds of sounds
I could get from him.
I bet his nipples were sensitive. Firm little buds that would peak and plump for me, begging for my mouth and my teeth.
My cock twitched in my hand at the mental image of him arching up and begging for more with that shy voice, and I groaned, kicking away my jeans and underwear and going to get on the bed where I didn't have to worry about remaining vertical anymore.
I settled back against the headboard and then leaned over to the nightstand to find the lube I'd stashed there. I hadn't really imagined I'd be in my room jerking it over the prince I was supposed to be protecting, but better safe than sorry.
I drizzled a generous portion of the bottle over my hand in haste and then returned to my cock, my head tipped back at how good the slippery slide felt.
Zyke would be that wet for me, I knew it. His cock would be hard, dripping precum while my mouth worked at his chest, and his sweet ass would be so wet and inviting, wanting me to push into it.
But I would start slow for him, get him all nice and worked up for me. I knew he hadn't done anything with anyone else. I knew that for a fact. I would be the first man to put my hands on him, to make him cry out and writhe, and that thought made me even hungrier for him than I already was.
No matter what happened between us, he'd never be able to forget that it was me who'd opened him up to pleasure. While my mouth was busy teasing and torturing his nipples, my hands would be free to work down his body, to savor the way his skin felt and how he would shiver under me.
I could grab his hips, squeeze his thighs, wrap a big hand around his cock and ask him if he wanted me to make him feel good.
I already knew the answer would be yes. He'd let me take care of him like that, the way he'd let me change him.
And I would make it worth his while in every single way I knew how.
I'd show him pleasure the way he'd never had it before.
I would know how he tasted, and what his face looked like when he was lost in the sensations, blind to anything and everything else but what he was feeling.
It was such a damned good image, and my hand worked my cock faster and faster, my breath coming in short, hard pants.
It had been a while since I'd been with anyone, or even since I'd touched myself, so it wasn't going to take long. Not with that picture in my head and the imagined sounds of Zyke's moans of pleasure filling my ears.
I jerked myself, my hips pumping upward, my eyes tightly closed.
"Fuck, Zyke," I whispered, letting myself say his name there in the privacy of my room and nowhere else. No one had to know what I was doing.
With a groan, I came, spilling over my hand and making a mess as pulse after pulse of cum came shooting out of the tip of my cock.
I was going to need a shower after all of that, clearly.
I laid there, panting, trying to get the thoughts out of my head, but it was harder than I'd expected, and my mind was still firmly fixed on the prince across the hall.
But the heaviness of being still a little drunk and the slow, warm feeling that came after an orgasm were enough that eventually, I unwound, telling myself I was going to get up and wash up, but the bed was too soft, and my eyes closed again as I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, I got up early. Even with all the drinking, it was still a habit I had leftover from my military days.
I hit the shower and cleaned myself up before going across the hall to check on Zyke. He hadn’t had that much to drink at all, but there was still a chance that he would be hungover and feeling bad, and I wanted to be there for him if he was.
I knocked on the door, and there was no answer. Maybe he was still sleeping. I knocked harder.
Still nothing.
Frowning, I eased the door open, prepared to apologize if I was walking in on something he didn’t want me to see, but the room was empty.
His bed was unmade, and the door to his bathroom was open, but he was nowhere to be found.
Even though he kept to the palace pretty exclusively, I still went everywhere with him. He was always dressed and ready when I came to greet him in the morning.
A feeling of dread rose in my stomach, and I tried to push it back down.
Maybe he was still embarrassed about the night before and all that had happened. He was probably just hiding in the library with his bear, afraid to face me.
I hustled to check, walking the shelves, calling his name, and he wasn’t there, either.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It didn’t seem possible that someone could have gotten into the palace past all the guards and soldiers and the other princes who were so praised for their skill at fighting and taken Zyke. Someone would have seen something.
It was still early enough that breakfast was being served in the dining hall, so I went there next, finding three of Zyke’s brothers sitting at a long table, shoveling food in their mouths like animals.
“Have you seen Zyke?” I asked, blunt and not giving a single shit about royal niceties.
Two of them, Avi and Mykel I was pretty sure, just looked up and shrugged. “He’s probably hiding somewhere. Check the closets,” Avi said.
“Or under his bed. Maybe he had a nightmare and needed to cuddle his bear in private.”
“I wish he’d do it in private,” Avi muttered. “It would save us from having to see it.”
In all my time, I’d never met people who seemed to care less about their family members than Zyke’s brothers, and while they laughed, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Punching one of the princes would probably get me arrested and then hanged for treason or something, but damn, it would feel good in the moment.
The other brother, Ezra, stood up. He glanced nervously at the other two, but they’d gone back to eating like nothing had even happened.
He gave me a look, and I followed him out of the hall, arms folded.
“Did you check the library?” he asked.
“First place I looked when he wasn’t in his room,” I said. At least one of them seemed to give a shit. “It’s not like him to disappear.”
Ezra frowned. “No, it’s not. I’ll check his usual hiding places.”
“I’ll go see if your father knows where he is.”
His eyes widened and he snorted in amusement. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, actually. He won’t want to be bothered.”
“I don’t care. I need to find Zyke.”
He shook his head, but I didn’t care what he had to say past that. I wasn’t going to take advice on how to handle the situation from anyone in a family like theirs.
So I went to find King Heydar himself.
He was an imposing man. He was nearly as tall as I was, which was rare, with dark eyes and long locks that he had pinned back out of his face. He was as built as his other sons, clearly a man who knew how to handle himself in a fight, even if he was the king. He was dressed in all blue, the royal color of Eastola, and he was walking with a group of guards, probably discussing how they could further devastate poor villages or something like that.
I moved to get in his way.
He looked menacingly up at me, but I looked right back.
“Did you need something?” he asked, and the tone of his voice made it clear he didn’t care either way.
“I’m looking for Zyke,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. Snapping at one of the princes was one thing, but I didn’t want to get killed for biting the king’s head off if I could help it.
“Am I not paying you to know where he is?” King Heydar asked. “If he dies, you’re fired.”
And with that, he stepped around me and continued on his way, the conversation apparently over.
I stood there for a minute, stunned at how that had gone, even though I really shouldn’t have been. It was obvious no one in that whole goddamned family gave a shit about what happened to Zyke.
He was missing, could have been hurt or dead or worse, and they didn’t care. Only one of them had lifted a finger to help,
and even he didn’t seem that worried about it.
No wonder Zyke was so timid all the time with assholes like that to call his family.
With Ezra checking in the palace, I decided I would hit the streets. Maybe Zyke had gone back to the bar for some reason. I couldn’t think why, but it was the only place I could think of to start. The only place we’d been to together.
My heart was pounding, and my head was filled with flashes of things that could be happening to him right then and there, but I forced all that down. I wasn’t going to be good for anything if I let my worry get the better of me.
If I shifted and ran, it would be quicker, and maybe I’d be able to track his scent better, too, so I headed down for the woods behind the palace.
I expected to be alone there to have peace and quiet to shift, but as soon as I stepped through the trees, I was face-to-face with a lion.
He was small, and his eyes were big and honey-colored with a golden ring around them. Clutched in his mouth was a familiar teddy bear, but even if I hadn’t seen the bear, I would have known it was Zyke.
Relief, cool and clean, washed through me, and I let out a messy sigh, dragging a hand down my face.
He was alright. He was fine. There was nothing to worry about.
His lion was smaller than most I’d seen, covered in soft-looking fur in the same golden color as his eyes. He looked shy and timid, even in that form, but there was no denying he was still cute as hell.
As I watched, he hung his head a bit and then slowly shifted back into the human form of Zyke in front of me. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, as usual, and he quickly raised his hands to cover his crotch, hiding his nakedness from me as best he could behind the bulkiness of his bear.
The polite thing to do would have been to look away and give him some privacy, but that was easier said than done. He wasn’t built or muscular by any means, but he was still beautiful. His skin shone in the sunlight that filtered in through the trees, and the blush on his face was still adorable to look at.
I wanted to go to him and draw his hands away from his crotch, to tell him it was alright and that I wanted to see him, to let him know he wasn’t a freak or a weirdo or whatever. He was gorgeous and bright.
