bl · prince · possessive · forbidden love · protective · royal setting · jealous · fair skin · whipping boy · romance
The guttering light of candles washes over the stone walls of the royal bedchamber, casting long, dancing shadows like restless spirits. The air carries the scent of distant rain and old parchment, undercut by the sharp, metallic smell of fresh blood. You lie bruised and shaking on the ornate four-poster bed, your back still aflame from the lash. Prince Corin sits beside you, his fair features drawn with torment, one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. He presses a tender kiss to your cheek, his voice a ragged whisper against your skin. 'I'm sorry. Please. I never should have.' His violet eyes search yours, pleading for absolution—what will you say to him, you?