Raúl, the new prince, kneels before Emperor Valerio in an act of submission and desire, marking a turning point in their relationship. What secrets lie behind the emperor's cold facade?
The heavy, carved oak door closed behind them with a dull thud, echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings of the emperor's private chamber. The echo slowly faded, as if the palace itself were holding its breath. Raoul, the newly appointed Prince of the Blue Country, felt cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck under the weight of his ceremonial robes, woven with silver threads that gleamed like frost in the dim light from the candelabras. The air smelled of melted wax and sandalwood, a thick aroma that mingled with the faint hint of incense burned hours before. In front of him, Emperor Valerius stood out against the blue-glass window, his silhouette imposing even in the dimness. The filtered light tinged his black armor with metallic reflections, accentuating the pale scar across his left cheekbone, a souvenir of some battle long forgotten in history books.
Valerio didn't turn around. His black leather-gloved fingers tapped impatiently on the arm of his empty throne, as if the mere act of waiting irritated him. When he finally spoke, his voice emerged low and raspy, like the crunch of gravel under military boots.
"So you're a prince now," he said, not as a question, but as a verdict. "A title you didn't ask for, and yet you accepted without flinching. Tell me, boy: what do you plan to do with it?"
Raul swallowed. The sound of his own swallowing seemed obscene in the silence that followed. He had rehearsed this moment hundreds of times in front of the mirror in his chambers, but now, under the emperor's icy gaze, the words caught in his throat like thorns. His eyes, large and dark as inky pools, scanned Valerio's body with a mixture of fear and something more dangerous: a hunger he had learned to hide through years of discipline. The emperor was a man made of hard angles—broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his uniform, thick, column-like thighs beneath the tight leather, and between them… Raul felt his own groin heat as he remembered the first time he'd seen that during a royal bath he'd been dragged into as an unwilling witness. The silver shell covering the emperor's manhood now gleamed in the dim light, like both a promise and a warning.
He did not respond with words.
Instead, Raul moved forward. His steps were slow at first, as if the marble floor burned him, but then he gained confidence, dragging his fingers over the back of an ebony chair before stopping less than a foot from Valerio. The emperor didn't move, though Raul swore he felt the air between them thicken, charged with electricity. He could smell it now: masculine sweat mixed with the bitter scent of the tobacco Valerio secretly smoked, and something deeper, animal, that made his knees tremble. Without a second thought, he raised a hand and placed it on the emperor's chest, feeling the strong, steady beat beneath the breastplate. Valerio sucked in a breath.
"Answer me, Prince," he growled, but his voice was no longer as firm.
Raúl didn't. Instead, he moved closer, until his hips brushed Valerio's and he could feel the heat radiating from the man's body like a furnace. With fingers that trembled only slightly, he undid the silver belt holding the protective shell, listening to the metallic clink of each buckle as it fell to the floor. The emperor didn't stop him. When Raúl finally freed Valerio's member, it emerged heavy and throbbing, as thick as his wrist, the glistening purple head already escaping between the prince's fingers. A thread of clear fluid connected the glans to the silver shell as it parted, stretching before snapping.
Raul couldn't help but groan.
He knelt gracelessly, his knees hitting the marble with a pain he barely registered. His hands, both now occupied, stroked the length of the emperor's member, marveling at the weight, the texture of the swollen veins beneath the taut skin. Valerio gasped when Raúl's lips brushed the tip, his hot breath making the man shudder. Then, without warning, Raúl opened his mouth and swallowed him deep.
The taste flooded him immediately: salty, bitter, with a metallic aftertaste that reminded him of blood and power. His eyes watered as he forced himself to swallow around the thick circumference, but he didn't stop. His lips sealed around the base, his nose buried in Valerius's curly pubic hair, inhaling his scent like oxygen. The emperor's hands balled into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms to form red crescents.
—"Fuck..."— Valerio cursed under his breath, his voice cracking with something that wasn't pleasure, but something more dangerous: surprise.
Raúl heard him and redoubled his efforts. He pulled his mouth out with a wet pop, leaving a trail of glistening saliva on the dark skin, before licking the tip like a cat with its favorite dish. His tears now fell freely, mixing with the drool running down his chin.
"My emperor," she whispered against his glans, her voice breaking. "Let me prove my devotion."
And then he did it.
It wasn't just a blowjob. It was worship. Raúl worked Valerio's cock like it was a sacrament, alternating between deep suctions that made his tonsils graze the sensitive head, and long, slow licks from base to tip, pausing to taste the precum that spurted out in small spasms. Every time the emperor tried to pull back, Raúl followed, his nails raking the man's thighs through the leather, anchoring himself. Valerio cursed under his breath, a litany of profanities and contradictory commands—"Stop," "Deeper," "You shouldn't..."—but his hips betrayed his words, thrusting forward in small, involuntary spasms.
Raúl noticed the change when it happened: Valerio's member hardened even further, the veins pulsing like the strings of an instrument about to break. The emperor snarled, one hand flying back to grab Raúl's hair in a brutal fist, yanking his head back until their lips parted with an obscene sound.
"Swallow it all," he ordered, his voice a roar. "Don't spill a drop, damn you."
Raúl nodded fervently, his eyes shining with excitement. Just as Valerio pushed him back toward his crotch, the first spurt hit the back of his throat. It was thick, hot as lava, and tasted of man—of power, of sin, of everything Raúl had secretly desired since laying eyes on him. He swallowed convulsively, tears choking him as more and more semen flooded his mouth, sliding down his throat with a delicious heat. Valerio was moaning without shame now, his hips jerking in short thrusts as he emptied his balls into Raúl's throat. The latter didn't miss a drop: he licked the remnants from the emperor's lips, ran his tongue over the sensitive glans until Valerio shuddered and pulled away with a grunt.
Raúl remained where he was, kneeling in the pool of his own saliva, his lips swollen and the taste of the emperor still burning his tongue. He looked up, his dark eyelashes sticking together with tears, and found Valerio staring at him with an expression he couldn't decipher: it wasn't disgust, not even anger. It was something more complicated, as if the emperor had just discovered that his favorite sword was enchanted.
"And now, my emperor?" Raul asked, his voice hoarse from use. He reached out a trembling hand to wipe the last trace of semen from the corner of her lips, then brought it to his mouth and sucked on the finger with deliberate slowness. "What shall we do next?"
The silence that followed was so thick that Raúl could hear his own heartbeat. Valerio watched him with an intensity that made his skin crawl, his dark eyes scanning the prince's body—his flushed cheeks, his neck marked by exertion, his wrinkled tunic that betrayed the erection Raúl could no longer hide. For a moment, Raúl thought the emperor would slap him. Or worse: throw him out of the room like a stray dog.
But Valerio did none of those things.
Instead, he reached out and brushed his thumb over Raúl's lower lip, still glistening with fluid. Raúl gasped, feeling the simple touch burn like fire.
"Get up," Valerio said finally, his voice regaining some of its usual coldness, although there was something new about it now. Something dangerous.
Raúl obeyed immediately, his legs trembling beneath him. When he stood, Valerio didn't flinch. They stood so close that Raúl could feel the residual heat of the emperor's orgasm radiating between them. Valerio's fingers laced around the back of his neck, pulling him until their foreheads were almost touching.
"You have talent, Prince," she murmured, her breath smelling of whiskey and sated lust. "But talent without discipline is useless. Tomorrow, at this time, you will return. And you will bring more than that sweet little mouth."
Raul felt his stomach twist in anticipation.
"Anything, my emperor," he whispered.
Valerio smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.
"We'll find out," he said, and then he let it go.
Raúl stayed where he was, watching as the emperor adjusted the silver shell over his now flaccid member, once again hiding what Raúl now knew was his. When Valerio turned and walked toward the door without looking at him, Raúl didn't dare follow. But when the door closed behind him with a final click, Raúl smiled against his own fist, tasting the last vestige of Valerio on his tongue.
Outside, the palace remained silent. But inside, something had changed forever.