The prince tugged Dara over to a sofa by the hem of his uniform shirt, then guided him down onto it and straddled his hips. Dara's pulse sped up at the feeling of mild restraint. Dara had been pinned down many times, and it had never resulted in anything but pain. Don't panic. You’ve been through so much worse than anything he’ll do to you.

The prince undid the buttons on Dara's shirt and lowered his mouth to Dara's collarbone, pressing kisses against his skin that started feather light and gentle but gradually increased in urgency. Slowly the prince edged back, down Dara’s body, his tongue trailing a warm, damp line from Dara's chest and to his stomach. Despite his fear, Dara found his hips arching up, seaking friction against the heat that was quickly pooling between his legs.

The prince’s fingers working open the buttons of Dara's pants sent a jolt of alarm through him, but the calm, gentle caress reassured him. This was different. The prince was simply enjoying Dara's pleasure. For now.

The prince tugged off Dara's pants, leaving his lower half bared. Dara let out a cry of surprise when the prince's mouth lowered to engulf him.

For a moment the shock of it enveloped Dara. The prince pleasured slaves with his mouth? It was such an odd concept. But pleasure it certainly was, and the prince knew quite well what he was doing as he moved his head slowly up and down, exploring Dara’s straining erection with his lips and mouth. Dara dug his fingers into a cushion as he forced himself to resist the urge to thrust up into the hot embrace of the prince’s mouth.

The prince pulled back. "One moment," he said, before standing and heading into one of his other rooms. Dara stared down at his erection, the normally pale flesh flushed an angry red where it stood tall against his belly, and wondered if the prince would be cross if he touched himself. He didn’t have long to wonder, though, because a few seconds later the prince returned holding a jar of something. 

Grease.

Dara forced himself to stay still, not tense up too much. This was a good thing. The prince cared for his pleasure and would be gentle. Dara had known what was coming, hadn't he? An experienced man like the prince who could have whatever and whoever he wanted would hardly settle for anything less than everything. 

The prince’s mouth returning to tease at Dara’s cock helped to relax him again, but when the prince spread Dara’s legs and pushed his knees up to his chest, Dara started to panic. He tensed, but only for a moment, and then forced himself to relax, to become pliant. He heard the jar open and felt greased fingers slide gently over his opening. Not yet making an entrance, just teasing.

Dara flopped an arm over his face. If the prince looked up, Dara doubted he would have found the expression on Dara's face pleasing, and Dara could no longer control it. He focussed his energy on staying still. A finger carefully probed him. Though the prince’s mouth was sliding slowly up and down his length, Dara wasn't as hard as he had been. The finger pressed deeper, then slid out, then pressed deeper again.

Dara could feel his body starting to tremble. Tears stung his eyes. No. Stay still. Stay quiet. He forced himself not to pull away from the contact. The prince's mouth withdrew. The finger was taken out of him. Dara didn't realise he was curling into a ball until it was too late and his rejection was clear. 

He heard the prince walk away. It was over. He had shown the prince just how utterly useless he was.

Was that a dismissal? Dara couldn't bring himself to uncurl his body and find his clothes. He was too scared, too ashamed to move. He heard the prince return, but he didn't dare look up.

Something was draped over him. A blanket. It was wrapped around him, covering his nudity, and then the prince’s footsteps retreated across the room.

For several silent minutes, Dara just lay there as he tried to calm himself. His stupid, broken mind was too fragile for him to give the prince even this one, small thing.

Eventually, Dara lifted his head. He had to. He couldn’t hide forever.

The prince was sitting in the armchair in front of the fire, sipping a glass of wine. His eyes were on Dara.

“I’m sorry,” Dara whispered. His throat ached.

For a long moment, the prince just stared back at him, his expression unreadable. “What’s your name?”

“Dara.”

“Dara,” the prince echoed. “Was it the guards who ruined you?”

Dara broke eye contact. The prince had no idea how accurate that word was. Ruined. After too long a pause he realised he hadn’t responded and shook his head. “No, they—no.”

“But someone did, at some point.”

Dara swallowed and nodded.

“Who?”

Dara hugged the blanket around his naked body as he sat up. “Do you remember what happened in Daviston? You would have been sixteen.”

“I do,” the prince said.

“I was fourteen.” Dara swallowed. “Others died. I would have, but I’m—sometimes I’m not sure I can die. That’s why I reacted the way I did. I don’t scar, but my body still remembers.”

“And that incident — that’s why you wear my colours but never ended up being given to me? They decided you were sullied at that point?”

He knew the prince had the wrong idea, that he assumed Dara had been in training to be a bed slave, but he decided not to correct him. The truth was both far more painful and no longer relevant. Either way, that day truly had ruined him. He nodded.

“Hmm.” The prince took a sip of his wine. “You seemed to like me putting my mouth on you.”

A hot flush ran through Dara, and he wasn’t sure it was entirely from embarrassment. “That was… not like anything they did to me. It didn’t remind me of anything that scares me.”

“But you liked it,” the prince stressed. “Not all men do. Some men end up bedding other men as a job for the money or because they’re slaves and have no choice, but they don’t enjoy any part of it. But you seemed to at least appreciate the premise.”

Dara nodded. He had never dared seek anything like that out, but the premise… that had always held appeal.

“Well, that’s something,” the prince said. “The way I see things, sex is something you do with someone else. If it’s not mutually enjoyable, I might as well use my hand. But I’d rather use yours.”

That had been so unexpected that all Dara could muster in response was a startled, “Oh.”

There was a smug edge to the prince’s smile, but it wasn’t unkind. “But not tonight, tempting as you are. We’ll both have more fun if I take my time with you.”

“Will you be staying for a while?”

The prince’s expression pinched. “No, absolutely not. I’ll be leaving in a few days. You’re coming with me.”

Dara opened his mouth to say something, because this certainly would have been the time for it, then shut it again instead. He knew he should be honest with the prince, tell him he had been in training to be a healer, not a bed slave. But… a failed healer wasn’t anything. A failed bed slave seemed to be something the prince thought he could have some fun with.

Dara must have spent too long thinking, because the prince spoke again before he could come up with a response. “Do I scare you?”

“No!” Dara said reflexively. “No, I just—I’m sorry, your highness. I look forward to leaving with you and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to be of service.”

“Good.” The prince’s eyes stayed on Dara as he drained the rest of his glass of wine. “Now that that’s sorted, it’s time for you to get dressed and leave so that we can both get some sleep.”

“Yes, your highness, of course,” Dara said as he hurried to gather his clothes. 

He started out trying to dress underneath the blanket until he noticed the intent way the prince was watching him and realised he probably wanted to see. Putting on a display — that was what a bed slave would do, wasn’t it? 

Dara wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the way the prince’s eyes grazed every inch of his exposed skin. It still scared him, but in a vague, indirect way that was disconnected from any specific worry. There was also a small voice at the back of his mind that whispered to him that he wasn’t supposed to do this, that he was a healer and healers shouldn’t get involved with messy sexual situations involving power dynamics they were on the losing end of. But he wasn’t a healer anymore and all the damage that could be done already had been.

And then there was arousal, a heat deep in his gut that made him half hope the prince would decide he wanted to have a little more fun tonight after all. He saw the prince’s lips curve when he noticed the difficulty Dara was having getting his pants done up.

Fully dressed, Dara bowed, hesitated in case the prince had changed his mind, and then left the room.

The guards had been far from Dara’s mind by the time he stepped through the door at the end of the long hallway, into the cool night air, but he wasn’t surprised when he found them waiting for him.

“Well, that didn’t take as long as I expected,” Burch, the guard who always took the lead in their torture sessions, commented as he stepped away from the wall to block Dara’s path. When Dara didn’t respond, he smiled. “Bet you thought you were too good to end up here, huh? Nobody fucks a healer, not even a prince. But that’s not what you are anymore, is it?”

Dara held eye contact with him. “If I scream, he’ll hear me.”

“Will he.” It was more of a challenge than a question.

Dara turned his head to look back the way he came. He wasn’t sure either. “If he does…”

“If he does, do you honestly think he’ll give half a shit? Even if he thought you sucked dick well enough to consider a second go at it, why would he care what happens to you between now and then? I mean, I’m guessing you told him everything just heals, right?”

“If you were sure of that yourself, we wouldn’t still be talking.” Dara took a step back and held up a hand when Burch moved towards him. He shouldn’t have challenged him like that. “Just. Wait. It’s not a matter of caring for me personally. He said—”

Dara’s breath was knocked out of him as Burch shoved him back against the wall.

“Burch, c’mon,” Shaw said from behind Burch, reaching a hand out towards him but unwilling to go as far as physically intervening. “He’s not wrong. The prince made himself clear, and if he catches us again…”

“He’ll be leaving in a few days,” Dara added. “You could risk it now, or you could just wait and not have to worry.”

“Hmm.” Burch let Dara go and stepped back, smiling. “Well, that sounds great to me. I’ll see you at the end of the week for a little catch up session.”

Dara stayed pressed against the wall and watched the guards as they walked away. He really hoped the prince had been serious about taking Dara with him…