Chapter 287 - 285: Spoilt Prince Toy.

Chapter 287: Chapter 285: Spoilt Prince Toy.

The hangover comes with it, and as the last throbs of pleasure ebb away, Khobi’s head starts to swim, and not in the good way. And with another one of those pitiful, agonised groans, he sinks back under his blankets, fully intending on letting them swallow him up; forever if that’s what it comes to.

That’s when there’s a knock at the door.

Khobi immediately wants to kill whoever it is. It feels like it’s still the middle of the night, and his head hurts and he’s sticky and clammy and feels disgusting.

"Go away," he grumbles, cramming himself deeper into his pillow and yanking the blanket higher over his head.

The door creaks open anyways, and a moment later he hears the last voice he wants to hear right at this moment.

"Hey, what are you doin’? We gotta go."

Khobi is horrified to find that his cock twitches.

It’s an understatement to say that last night, Loac’s voice had done something to Khobi’s body; all rich and smooth and tantalising in it’s perfection. But this morning it’s a different beast altogether; ragged and husky and raw, like those perfect edges have been ripped away, and Khobi absolutely can’t afford to linger on why, or on just who has made it that way.

He buries his his head under his pillow. It does nothing to drown him out.

"...If you wanna get caught out here, fine by me."

Blearily, Khobi cracks open an eye. In the gloom he can just make out Loac’s long limbs draped against the doorframe; familiar even with the room blurred and hazy. If Khobi had the choicr between getting out of this bed or languishing here forever, he knows exactly what his choice would be; right now the world is spinning and spinning and there is nothing he wants to do less than get out of this bed, but staying here is just not an option.

So with an agonised groan, Khobi hauls himself upright.

"Nnnghhhh...." he croaks, limbs feeling uncomfortably heavy as he swings a leg out of bed. It takes a moment to work up the strength to do the same with the other one. It does not feel good, and as soon as he’s completely upright his head and stomach lurch dangerously in different directions.

"Ugggh..."

Hanging his head down between his knees helps. But just a little.

Not enough.

"You good?" comes the question from the gloom. Khobi would love to lie, but right now he honestly doesn’t have the strength to.

"No."

He gets a chuckle for his honesty.

Khobi remembers feeling that chuckle on his skin, and liking it.

Shit.

Eventually, he works up the strength to drag himself to his feet. It doesn’t agree with him, and it takes him longer than it might usually to make it all the way to the doorway Loac’s leaning up against, waiting for him. And the only solace Khobi can take it that for as garbage he feels, Loac looks so much worse.

He’s rumpled from head to toe; hair and collar all out of place, and there are deep, dark bags under his eyes like he’s barely slept.

(How does he make it look so good?)

The worst part is that Khobi now knows what that hair feels like in his hands. And what he looks like under those clothes, up close, and on top of him.

He knows what that mouth feels like; what his tongue feels like in his mouth and how he kisses, and what his body feels like when he’s turned on.

Not to mention his cock.

A small, white hot drip of arousal shoots down Khobi’s spine, spiralling down into his belly, and he has to avert his gaze before it has time to take root. He’s already had quite enough self-loathing for the day thank you very much, and the sun hasn’t even risen yet.

He’s sure there’ll be more to come.

"Took you long enough," Loacdrawls, voice thick and rough in all the right places as he pushes off the wall with his whole body. And when Khobi leans heavily on the doorframe, skin unnecessarily clammy and expression grim, he wets his lips as he gives him a slow even once-over and declares, "You look like shit."

And whose fault is that? Khobi wants to bite back. But he keeps that to himself, because saying never say it aloud would make it real, and he’s not equipped for that. Not like this. Not this hung over, and certainly not with Loac looking the way he does and knowing it was all his doing.

And maybe the alcohol hasn’t quite relinquished control over him because as they head towards the stairs Khobi dimly finds himself wondering if Loac even remembers what they did, and if so, how vividly; if he had woken just as hot and unsatisfied and had touched himself the way Khobi had ,thinking of him.

He knows the air is cold, because it’s winter, and that’s just the way it is, but for some reason it feels uncomfortably warm, and his skin suddenly feels damp and clammy.

(What Khobi doesn’t realise, is that as much as Loac looks like he’s been up to mischief, he doesn’t look any better.)

"You’re up early," the barkeep greets as they peel down the stairs, accompanied by a short nod to send them on their way. "Hope you boys had a good night." It’s an innocuous phrase, and sounds innocent enough, but the face he makes at them as they lope towards the door is distinctly knowing.

"Sure did," Loac assures him easily, throwing in a fucking wink for good measure.

If Khobi wasn’t on the brink of death himself, he’d kill him.

"Can you not?" Khobi complains, as the door swings shut behind them and he is immediately assaulted by searing cold. It’s an unreasonable hour to be out; it’s still dark out and the moon is still high and there’s still fucking snow on the ground. His teeth start to chatter. "He’s gonna get the wrong idea."

"So?"

"So, nothing happened," Khobi bites back. It’s part test, and part silent prayer, because while Loac has a reputation for that sort of thing, he has always been clear that he wanted no part in it; that he had no time for his cheap come ons and wasn’t going to be a spoilt prince’s toy. And that hasn’t changed; he still has some pride, dammit. And if Loac was generous, this would have been the moment where that became the narrative; where they could silently and mutually agree to go about their lives as if nothing had ever transpired between them.

Loac cocks an eyebrow at him.

Ah shit, he definitely remembers.