Chapter Text
The horse neighed and pranced a bit; Bokuto halted, patted her flank, uttering soothing words to get her to calm down.
From above him, there was a low chuckle. “I’m quite alright, Bokuto-san,” the prince said. Bokuto looked up and caught Prince Keiji staring down at him, sapphire eyes dark and soft in the waning light of day. “I can handle Starlight, you know.”
Bokuto did know. He knew everything about the prince. It was part of his job, after all: Royal Knight of the First Order of Fukurōdani and personal bodyguard to the prince, His Royal Highness, Akaashi Keiji. He’d been handpicked by the king to be the prince’s bodyguard; as an omega and heir to the throne of Fukurōdani, the prince was a much sought-after prize by many, but both the king and Bokuto knew:
Of all the alphas in the Royal Guard, Bokuto was the best: the best fighter, the best protector. An alpha who could be trusted, no matter what.
Because among Bokuto’s duties, he frequently advised the King on all military matters, and accompanied the Prince on any and all diplomatic missions.
They were on one such mission today. Prince Keiji had been tasked with visiting the neighboring kingdom of Nekoma to meet with their King, Tetsurō, and discuss a new treaty to share refugees from the war between Date Tech and Aoba Johsai, two kingdoms constantly at war over a tiny swath of land that rested exactly between them. The King was back in Fukurōdani hosting cohorts from both nations, trying to broker a peace treaty, and decided to send his only son on this mission because, Bokuto knew, the Alpha King of Aoba Johsai was angling to wed the prince, who had no interest in him whatsoever. The king seemed to agree, and sending Prince Keiji on this mission meant that he would not be around to be scrutinized under King Tōru’s prying eyes.
Bokuto knew, though, that the Alpha King wasn’t the only one angling for Prince Keiji’s affections. Over the years, many had tried, and they had all failed.
It left the nation wondering:
Who did hold the prince’s interest, after all?
It was hard for Bokuto to say.
Prince Keiji was regal, elegant, polite: all that a good prince should be. And beautiful…so fucking beautiful!…with his dark curls, his sharp ocean eyes, his handsome nose, his high cheekbones and his petal-pink lips. His physique was slight, but Bokuto knew first-hand just how strong and sly the prince could be, having been bested by him more than once in sparring.
He knew what it was like to have those slender, yet muscular, thighs on either side of his waist, sword at his throat. He knew what it was like to have Prince Keiji murmur “Do you yield?” in a voice husky and low, as though made for Bokuto himself.
Yes. Bokuto often wondered if his mind deceived him, or if the prince did, in fact, have a tone reserved just for Bokuto…
And if he reserved other things for Bokuto, too.
Gazes that locked just a bit too long. Hands that passed papers and brushed fingertips, when no human touch was necessary. Bodies that slotted together in sparring, even when grappling was not part of their practice.
A voice so low, sometimes Bokuto thought it was for his ears alone.
It was silly, though. Prince Keiji was destined to be wed to someone far greater than Bokuto. Maybe not the King of Aoba Johsai, but Bokuto had heard whispers that the Prince’s father wished to match him with the High Prince of Inarizaki, also an alpha, and a thought that, quite frankly, made Bokuto sick, even if he didn’t know why.
Fuck it. He knew why.
He was hopelessly in love with the royal prince.
Who he could never have, and who would never look at him as anyone other than his guardian, his companion, his protector, his…
The horse stopped; Bokuto fell into place beside Starlight immediately.
“Your Highness,” Bokuto began, but he saw that the prince had turned to him, those beautiful, dark blue eyes gazing down at him. There was an edge to the prince’s look: even, yes—he was always so neutral in his expressions!—but there was, if Bokuto looked closely, just a hint of something sad, and wishful.
Something that made Bokuto’s heart beat wildly in his chest.
Bokuto watched, breathless, as the prince slowly shifted the reins to his right hand. He held them steady; Starlight was a good horse and wouldn’t buck and run, but both Bokuto and Prince Keiji were excellent riders and Bokuto knew the prince would be firm in his grasp. Prince Keiji then let out a long exhale, and Bokuto shifted, ever so slightly, away from the horse’s flank and towards the saddle.
Towards where the prince sat.
Prince Keiji smiled then, a soft smile, so small that had Bokuto not been looking for it, he would have missed it. But when it came to the prince, Bokuto was always looking, always watching, and this time, he saw the flash of a dimple along his cheek, one that revealed to him that yes, indeed, the prince was smiling.
The prince’s hand reached out: slowly, so slowly that Boktuo’s heart seemed to stop beating from the anticipation. His eyes followed the prince’s hand; they widened in surprise when he cupped it softly around Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto sighed again: an audible sigh, one that, had they been on a public road, would have perhaps attracted the attention of passersby on the road.
Prince Keiji’s hand was warm: so fucking warm. His fingers were long, lithe, and his palm was just a bit larger than Bokuto’s. A delectable scent—vanilla and oranges—radiated from his hand, and Bokuto allowed himself the luxury of inhaling, just a little bit.
His senses eased, Bokuto glanced up. The prince was leaning: down, over the side of the horse. For a brief moment Bokuto thought that perhaps the prince might be looking for help to dismount, and Bokuto was more than eager to assist him. The prince’s gaze, deep blue and as impenetrable as the sea, held Bokuto’s steadily.
Bokuto found he could not move, he could not breathe. He was trapped but the prince’s eyes, the prince’s touch, the prince’s entire being. He could not have moved, even if he had wanted to.
They remained locked in this position. For how long, Bokuto could not say. All he knew was that he had all of the prince’s attention, and it was glorious. It made him warm; it made him vulnerable.
It made him wonder.
Prince Keiji moved first. To Bokuto’s shock, the prince leaned over his saddle and down, down to meet Bokuto, down to…
Lips.
Delectable, sinful, perfect lips.
Bokuto could only watch, could only hope, as the prince dipped forward, close and closer, and then gently pressed their lips together.
It was not Bokuto’s first kiss; he’d shared many kisses with the people who worked the brothels in the villages of the kingdom, as well as with several of his fellow knights. It was normal—hell, it was encouraged!—as it was widely understood that, as alphas, knights had ‘urges’ and that such urges needed to be relieved in order for the knights to perform on the battlefield. They may have had their ruts controlled with herbal remedies, but they were still alphas, and alphas still needed an outlet for their sex drives and their pheromones.
But Bokuto could confidently say that…kissing the prince?
Was unlike any kiss he’d ever known.
Prince Keiji’s mouth moved over his, searching, aching, greedy. It devoured him. It split his soul and rendered him speechless. A mouth both so soft and so sharp should have been illegal, yet here they were: a prince, as elegant and refined as they come, tugging at a knight’s lower lip with his teeth, begging for something of which he may not have been sure of himself.
Bokuto fought back the urge to moan, to tear the prince from his horse and lay him down in the heather that surrounded them. He fought back the urge to allow his hands to roam ceaselessly: over Prince Keiji’s face, his hands, the hollow of his throat. Under the fur of his cape, under his linen tunic, under the soft leather of his leggings.
Because a knight must always be in control, no matter the circumstance.
But, fuck, the prince’s tongue in his mouth was making it very hard to do so.
The prince broke the kiss first; he sat back, sat up, eyes gleaming, blue and green and all the colors of the sea. His lips were kiss-swollen and moist with saliva. His cheeks reddened, the faintest hint of sweat appearing at his brow.
Bokuto allowed himself a breath.
The prince had always been beautiful, but like this?
He was divine.
Prince Keiji retook the reins in both hands. Before he nudged Starlight on, though, he cast a sideways glance at Bokuto, and offered him one more gentle smile. Bokuto wanted to vibrate right out of his armor, but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, it was not becoming for a knight to show emotion.
He couldn't reveal the innermost workings of his heart.
He also couldn’t help the wide grin that dashed across his lips.
There was a quiet huff from the prince; he steered the horse forward, Bokuto once again trotting alongside. All seemed well, but the atmosphere between them had changed: it was charged, electric, lightning shooting between two poles. The sun and the moon, always drawn together, always near and yet so far, allowed to come together for one, clandestine moment, only to be torn asunder again.
Except, Bokuto suspected they would not be the sun and the moon.
Not when, as they continued on their journey, Bokuto would occasionally let his hand slip, from the horse’s flank to Prince Keiji’s thigh, and when, as he did so, the prince’s hand would drop to cover Bokuto’s.
Yes, Bokuto was sure.
Something between them had changed. Exactly what, or how, he wasn’t entirely sure.
But when the prince squeezed Bokuto’s hand with his own, Bokuto knew that the love he felt for the prince?
It was no longer a love he harbored in vain.
Artwork Commission by kalcia