Chapter 2: The Lie That Burns: Claiming the Bath Assignment
The barracks air tasted stale, thick with the chemical tang of floor cleaner and the metallic bite of damp stone. Jax paced, boots echoing sharply on the flagstones, each step a hammer blow against the frantic drumming in his chest. The memory was a physical brand: the salty-sweet burst on his tongue, the desperate choke as Theron’s cock hit the back of his throat, the prince’s gasp echoing off cold observatory stone. What the fuck have I done? The question looped, relentless, warring with the phantom sensation of Theron’s fingers brushing his spit-slicked lip afterward. Shame coiled hot in his gut, but beneath it, deeper, ran a molten thread of exhilaration. He’d tasted royalty. He’d made him cry out.
The door scraped open. Commander Rexus stood framed in the harsh corridor light, his silhouette rigid, casting a long shadow that seemed to pin Jax to the spot. Rexus’s face was granite, etched with lines of perpetual vigilance, his eyes chips of glacial ice scanning the sparse room before settling on Jax. He held a stiff parchment scroll.
"Prince Theron," Rexus announced, his voice devoid of inflection, "requires an escort. To the royal thermal baths. Immediately." He unfurled the scroll slightly, his gaze never leaving Jax’s face. "Secluded. Requires discretion."
The words hit Jax like a physical blow. The baths. Steam, privacy, slick marble. Images flooded his mind – Theron’s pale skin gleaming wet, water droplets tracing the lean lines of his body. His cock, thick and flushed again, rising from the mist. The ache between Jax’s own legs flared, urgent and undeniable. Fear warred with a desperate, clawing hunger. Rexus’s eyes narrowed, dissecting him. Did he see the tremor in Jax’s clenched fists? Smell the phantom scent of sandalwood and sex sweat clinging to him?
Before Rexus could assign a name, Jax stepped forward. His voice, rough as gravel, cut through the tense silence. "Commander. Send me." He forced his posture straighter, meeting Rexus’s icy stare head-on. "I know those baths. Every blind spot, every alcove where an assassin could lurk. Better than any man here." The lie tasted thick and cloying, like cheap grease. He knew the blind spots, yes – knew exactly where eyes couldn’t reach. Knew where the steam hung thickest.
Rexus didn’t blink. The silence stretched, thick enough to choke on. Jax felt the weight of that gaze, probing, suspicious. Rexus knew his men. Knew Jax was loyal, fierce, dependable. But he also knew discipline. Knew protocol. Knew the unbridgeable chasm between a royal prince and a palace guard. Jax saw the calculation in Rexus’s eyes: duty versus… something else. The unspoken hunger radiating from Jax was a palpable force, a crackle in the sterile air.
"See that you do," Rexus finally grated, his voice low and dangerous. He thrust the scroll towards Jax. "Discretion, Jax. Absolute discretion. His Highness’s safety is paramount. Any lapse…" He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to. The dungeons, disgrace, ruin – they hung in the air between them, colder than the barracks stone. "Report back directly. Understood?"
"Understood, Commander." Jax snatched the scroll, the parchment rough against his sweating palm. He saluted, sharp and precise, a soldier’s mask slamming down over the turmoil beneath. He turned on his heel and marched out, the echo of Rexus’s unspoken warning ringing louder than his own footsteps.
The thermal baths lay deep within the palace’s oldest wing, a cavernous chamber carved from living rock centuries ago. The air grew thick and humid long before Jax reached the heavy oak doors. The scent hit him first – minerals, damp heat, and beneath it, faintly, that familiar sandalwood. His pulse hammered against his ribs. He pushed the door open.
Steam rolled out in thick, opaque waves, swallowing sound and sight. The heat was a physical embrace, instantly plastering Jax’s uniform to his skin. The vast pool glowed with an eerie, subterranean light, its surface shimmering, disturbed only by a single figure near the far edge. Prince Theron.
He was submerged to his waist, leaning back against the smooth, water-worn marble ledge. Silver hair was darkened by moisture, plastered to his neck and temples. His eyes, violet jewels in the mist, found Jax instantly. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He looked utterly at ease, a water spirit in his element, yet the intensity of his gaze pinned Jax to the spot.
"You came," Theron murmured, his voice soft but carrying easily through the humid air. It wasn't a question. It was an acknowledgment, laced with satisfaction.
"My duty, Your Highness," Jax rasped, forcing his gaze away from the prince’s bare chest, the water lapping just below his nipples. He moved stiffly towards the pool’s edge, scanning the shadows as instructed. The steam coiled thickly around pillars, obscuring corners. Perfect blind spots. His skin prickled.
"Duty," Theron echoed, the word a soft purr. He pushed off the ledge, gliding effortlessly through the water towards Jax. The movement revealed more – the lean taper of his waist disappearing into the churning water, the powerful shift of his shoulders. He stopped directly below where Jax stood, looking up. Water streamed down his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. "Is that all it is, Jax? Duty?" His gaze dropped deliberately to Jax’s groin, where the heavy wool uniform trousers strained against the undeniable bulge beneath. "You seem… tense."
Jax swallowed hard. The heat, the steam, the prince’s proximity, the memory of his taste – it was suffocating. His cock throbbed, painfully hard. "The steam, Your Highness. Thickens the air." Another lie. Thin. Transparent.
Theron chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in the humid chamber. He lifted a hand, dripping, and rested it on the wet marble ledge beside Jax’s boot. "Remove it."
Jax froze. "Sir?"
"The armor. The uniform." Theron’s voice lost its softness, gaining an edge of command. "It’s stifling in here. And unnecessary. We’re quite alone." His violet eyes held Jax’s, daring him to refuse. "Remove it. All of it."
The order hung in the steam. Disobeying a royal command. Treason. But the hunger roared louder than fear. Jax’s fingers, trembling slightly, went to the buckles of his breastplate. The clatter of metal on stone echoed strangely in the cavernous room as he shed the heavy plates. Then the padded jerkin. His tunic followed, damp wool sticking to his skin. He hesitated only a second before unlacing his trousers, pushing them and his smalls down his thick, muscular thighs. He kicked them aside, standing naked at the pool’s edge, the steam curling around his massive frame. He felt exposed, vulnerable, yet fiercely aroused. His cock stood thick and rigid, curving upwards from a thatch of dark hair, flushed and leaking at the tip.
Theron’s gaze raked over him, a slow, appreciative appraisal that burned hotter than the thermal water. "Magnificent," he breathed. "Now. Get in."
Jax stepped down into the pool. The water was almost painfully hot at first, then blissfully enveloping. He sank up to his chest, the mineral heat soaking into his tense muscles. Theron closed the distance between them with a few powerful strokes. He stopped inches away, the heat radiating from his body palpable even in the hot water. His hand rose, dripping, and closed firmly around Jax’s thick cock.
Jax gasped, a harsh intake of steam-laden air. Theron’s grip was cool against his burning skin, firm and knowing. He stroked slowly, deliberately, his thumb rubbing over the slick head, spreading pre-cum.
"You swallowed every drop," Theron murmured, his eyes locked on Jax’s face, watching the play of shock and desperate pleasure. "Like a starving man." His other hand slid around Jax’s hip, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his ass. "Such devotion deserves… reciprocation." He leaned in, his lips brushing Jax’s ear. "Turn around. Brace yourself on the ledge."
The command, whispered against his skin, sent a jolt of pure electricity through Jax. He obeyed instantly, turning his broad back to the prince, gripping the smooth, wet marble ledge with both hands. He spread his legs wider, planting his feet firmly on the slick pool floor. His heart pounded against his ribs. He felt utterly exposed, presented. The steam swirled around them, a private cocoon.
He felt Theron move close behind him, the water shifting. A cool hand spread his ass cheeks. Then, the blunt, insistent pressure of the prince’s cockhead against his tight hole. Jax tensed, a grunt escaping him.
"Relax," Theron commanded, his voice low and thick with desire. "Take it." He spat into his palm, the sound crude and obscene in the steamy silence, then slicked himself roughly. The wet sound sent another wave of heat through Jax. The pressure returned, harder, more insistent. "Push back, you big fucking guard. Show me how much you want it."
Jax groaned, low and guttural. He pushed his hips back, forcing himself onto the thick crown. A sharp burn tore through him, stealing his breath. "Fuck…!"
"Yesss," Theron hissed, his hands gripping Jax’s hips like vices. "Tight fucking hole." He pushed forward relentlessly, his cock stretching Jax impossibly wide, splitting him open inch by agonizing, exquisite inch. Jax gritted his teeth, knuckles white on the ledge, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding still, of taking it. The burn was intense, a white-hot brand, but beneath it surged a terrifying, addictive fullness.
Theron buried himself to the hilt with a final, brutal thrust that punched a ragged cry from Jax’s throat. He paused, buried deep, his cock pulsing inside the clenching heat. "Gods… you feel like a fucking vice," he gasped, his breath hot on Jax’s shoulder. He pulled back slowly, almost completely out, then slammed forward again, hard enough to make Jax lurch against the ledge.
"Ah! Fuck! Your Highness!" Jax gasped, the honorific torn from him by the sheer force of the thrust.
"Call me Theron," the prince growled, setting a punishing rhythm. He fucked Jax with deep, powerful strokes, each plunge driving the breath from the guard’s lungs. The slap of wet skin against skin echoed off the stone walls, mingling with Jax’s choked grunts and Theron’s low, animalistic growls. Water surged around them with each thrust.
Theron’s fingers dug into Jax’s hips, surely leaving bruises. "That’s it… take it… take my cock, you filthy guard," he snarled, his voice ragged with lust. "Your hole is mine. Clenching so fucking tight… greedy bastard." He leaned forward, biting sharply at Jax’s shoulder blade.
The pain mixed with the overwhelming sensation of being filled, stretched, owned. Jax’s cock throbbed, untouched, leaking steadily into the swirling water. The shame was obliterated by raw, primal need. He pushed back frantically against each thrust, meeting Theron’s power with his own, desperate for more, deeper, harder. "Harder! Theron! Fuck me harder!"
Theron obliged. His pace became frenzied, brutal. He pistoned into Jax, the force driving the bigger man hard against the marble ledge with every plunge. Jax’s vision blurred, tears mixing with the steam and sweat on his face. He was reduced to gasping, wordless cries, his body a vessel for the prince’s relentless fucking. The heat, the steam, the overwhelming fullness, the crude, filthy words snarled in his ear – it was too much. His balls tightened, a coil of pure pressure building at his base.
"Gonna… gonna fucking come!" Jax choked out, his voice shattered.
"Come!" Theron commanded, slamming into him with bruising force. "Come untouched, you fucking slut! Show me!"
The command, the final brutal thrust that seemed to spear him to his core, shattered Jax’s control. He roared, a raw, guttural sound ripped from his chest as his cock jerked violently, untouched, spilling thick ropes of cum into the churning thermal water. His body convulsed, his ass clamping down viselike on Theron’s buried cock.
Theron cried out, a sharp, triumphant sound. He buried himself deep one last time, grinding hard as his own release surged. Jax felt the hot pulse deep inside him, the prince’s cock throbbing violently as he emptied himself. Theron slumped forward, his chest heaving against Jax’s back, his forehead pressed between the guard’s massive shoulder blades. They stayed locked together, gasping, trembling, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the slap of water against stone.
Slowly, Theron pulled out. Jax shuddered at the sudden emptiness, the slick slide of the prince’s softening cock leaving him. He sagged against the ledge, spent, trembling, the mineral water cooling rapidly on his overheated skin. Theron turned him around. His violet eyes were dark, sated, but held a fierce possessiveness. He reached out, tracing a finger through the mess of sweat and water on Jax’s chest.
"You wear my taste well, guard," Theron murmured, his voice regaining its smoothness, though still breathless. "Inside and out." He leaned in, capturing Jax’s mouth in a deep, claiming kiss, tasting of steam and salt and something uniquely Theron. Jax responded instinctively, surrendering to the kiss, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure still humming through him.
As they broke apart, a shadow moved at the edge of the steam-shrouded entrance. Tall. Unmistakably rigid. Commander Rexus stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face an unreadable mask in the swirling mist, his icy eyes fixed on the naked, entwined figures in the water. The silence that followed was colder than the deepest dungeon. Jax’s blood froze. Theron’s hand tightened possessively on Jax’s arm, but his gaze met Rexus’s with a chilling, regal defiance. The steam curled, obscuring nothing now.