Chapter 23: War Win, L.S.N 4 (18+)

The sounds of moaning and music echoed through the corridors of Zarethrone like a feverish lullaby. Lost Shame Night.

Not a soul slept. There were no guards posted. No curfews. No laws.

Only bodies moving in rhythm. Skin on skin. Breath against breath. This was not the place for modesty. Not on this night.

Prince Ronan tilted his head toward the eastern hall, where silk curtains swayed and laughter pulsed through the air. "I'll be around," he said with a grin. "One woman, one man. That was the deal. I didn't cross kingdoms to waste a night like this."

Kaelith only nodded, already turning away. "Don't lose yourself too far, Ronan."

"Who said I haven't already?" Ronan chuckled before disappearing into the sea of bare limbs and dim lanterns.

Kaelith finally turned toward the direction of his chambers, his expression unreadable, lips drawn in a tight line. He said nothing

not a single glance, not a parting word.

Hale followed, careful to keep a respectful distance, his footsteps echoing softly behind the prince. Though his presence remained silent, his eyes stayed on Kaelith's back like a shadow that refused to be left behind.

He wasn't just following the prince. He was giving space, time, and silence. He still had duties to finish, loose ends to tie before the night was done. But more than that… he simply wasn't ready to walk away.

Kaelith's chambers were lit only by the soft glow of wall torches, their flames painting shadows across the dark stone.

He entered with slow, heavy steps. Bone-deep exhaustion weighed down his shoulders, though his mind refused rest. The screams of war had faded, replaced by the whispers of sin through the walls and earlier kissed with Hale. He needed only a moment, just a sliver of quiet to breathe.

Inside, Hale moved silently.

He had already prepared the Prince's wash basin, laid out the evening robe, and folded the blood-stained tunic from earlier. His movements were precise, efficient… and a little too quick.

Kaelith's eyes narrowed as he leaned against the archway.

Hale avoided his gaze, fidgeting with a stray collar crease. "I'll take my leave now, Your Highness," he said, half-bowed already at the door.

"Why the rush?" Kaelith asked calmly.

Hale paused.

The room thickened with heat.

"I just thought you'd prefer some rest."

"You thought wrong," Kaelith said softly, stepping forward. Or maybe you were in such a hurry to find your own 'desire' tonight. Since I can't.

Hale opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. He blinked, looked away, and then cleared his throat. "It's Lost Shame Night. It's tradition. It's allowed."

Kaelith's eyes glinted under the firelight. "So there is someone?"

Hale gave a faint, uncomfortable laugh. "Not really. But… people don't wait on a night like this."

"No," Kaelith said. "They don't."

He moved closer, not touching, but enough to pull Hale into the weight of his stare.

"You sound disappointed," Hale added with a nervous smile, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

"Not disappointed," Kaelith said. "Just…" entertained.

Hale looked at him, brow slightly furrowed, searching the prince's face for anything an order, a reason to stay, maybe even something unspoken.

"If there's nothing else, Your Highness," he said carefully, his voice edged with something quieter. "I will take my leave."

Kaelith didn't meet his eyes.

"You can go."

Just three words.

But they hit harder than a dismissal.

Hale stood there a second longer, as if giving Kaelith time to change his mind. When nothing came, he gave a slow, respectful nod and turned to leave.

He wasn't expecting the coldness from the man who he just kissed not too long.

Hale had always followed orders even when they hurt.

He opened the door and stepped out, leaving behind only the echo of tension and the soft sound of a breath Kaelith hadn't realized he was holding.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the palace…

King Aldric stood by the high balcony of the western tower, robes untouched by lust, and wine left untasted. He gazed down at the kingdom bathed in sin limbs tangled in courtyards, moans echoing from balconies, virginities bartered like coins under silk sheets

He remained still.

He had not touched another since his wife passed.

And despite the rivers of pleasure flowing through Zarethrone, he remained unmoved.

He allowed desire to bloom in every corner of his kingdom.

But for himself?

He chose solitude.

One day… she will return to me, he thought. Even if only in memory.

The palace was humming with sin.

Laughter and moans echoed faintly through the walls, a chorus of pleasure carried on the warm breeze that slipped under every crack.

The kingdom outside was drunk on desire, on skin, and on freedom. But inside the prince's chambers, it was still. Dark. Breathless.

Kaelith lay on his side, half-covered in fine silk, facing the wall. His bare shoulder peeked from beneath the light fabric, the curve of his body outlined by the moonlight that slipped through the carved windows. He didn't stir when the door creaked open.

Hale stepped in again, his breath uneven, his shirt wrinkled, lips slightly parted as though he'd been running or panting.

He lingered by the door, watching Kaelith's figure.

"I've tried," Hale said softly, voice dragging with drunken honesty. "Tried to look away. Tried to want someone else."

No answer.

He stepped closer, his eyes flicking to the bed, then the long line of Kaelith's body beneath the sheet.

"I've seen too much tonight, Kaelith," he said, words slurring slightly with wine and heat. "Men, women, on their knees, on their backs, moaning like gods were touching them. I've seen everything, every inch, every sound."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"My cock's been hard half the damn night," he confessed again, almost laughing. "I thought maybe I'd go out and join them. Pick someone. Anyone. But…"

He took another step. Closer.

"But I couldn't."

Kaelith's hand gripped the edge of the blanket tighter.

Hale noticed.

"I can't do it with them," Hale said, voice now lower, thicker. "No matter how much my body wants it."

He stepped to the edge of the bed. "Kaelith… I'm horny," he said shamelessly. "So fucking horny I could lose my mind. But I don't want them."

His eyes darkened. "I want you."

Still no answer.

Hale swallowed hard. "Can we... just do what we did the other time? No names, no guilt. Just… what we both need."

Silence.

Hale's heart dropped a little, and he turned to leave.

He'd just touched the handle when he heard...

"Lock the door," Kaelith said quietly, voice husky and low like smoke curling through silk.

Hale froze. The breath caught in his chest.

Click.

He locked the door without hesitation.

He walked back slowly, his boots soundless on the polished stone. His eyes never left the figure on the bed, still unmoving, still facing away.

But he wasn't sleeping. They both knew it.

Hale undressed as he moved, shirt peeled off with one hand, trousers unbuttoned and sliding low on his hips. By the time he reached the bed, his cock was straining, thick and swollen from the weight of denied release.

He climbed up slowly, the mattress dipping.

He leaned over Kaelith, close enough to feel the prince's warmth radiating through the thin sleep shirt he wore. His lips pressed to the back of Kaelith's neck lightly, then deeper, mouth opening to taste skin.

Kaelith's body stiffened… but didn't pull away.

Hale pressed closer, his hardened cock brushing against Kaelith's lower back through the silk. The thin fabric offered no barrier. It felt like skin to skin.

Kaelith let out a low breath, shaky.

"You wear nothing under this, do you?" Hale whispered, voice grazing his ear. "Gods, this shirt's so thin. I can feel all of you."

He slid a hand beneath the hem, warm palm splaying across Kaelith's stomach. The muscles twitched under his touch.

He moved slowly. Upward. Fingers tracing every ridge of Kaelith's torso until they found a nipple, hard and begging. He rolled it gently between his fingers, and Kaelith finally let out a sound sharp, almost like a gasp, but still didn't speak.

Hale's mouth moved again, down the curve of his neck, to his shoulder, then back up to his ear, tongue flicking at the lobe before he sucked lightly.

Kaelith moaned this time louder, involuntary, shameless.

And that sound… shattered the silence.

Kaelith turned.

Eyes dark. Lips parted. Chest rising fast beneath the now-disheveled silk.

Hale was on him in seconds.

Their mouths crashed together, all breath and hunger and years of tension spilling into a kiss that devoured them both. Their cocks pressed together, hot, aching, grinding through layers of sweat and cloth and madness.

Kaelith's hands slid into Hale's hair, gripping hard as he pulled him down again.

And the prince, the one who gave orders and ruled men with his stare, moaned into Hale's mouth like he was begging to be touched.

The air was thick. The bed was fire.

And outside, Zarethrone's sin rolled on, echoing faintly behind stone walls.

But in here, in this bed, they were already burning.