Lewis

The prince's private chambers are supposed to be empty.

Every morning at nine, you prepare His Highness's bath. Fresh silk towels, heated water, expensive oils, and a carefully selected wardrobe. It's a routine you've performed countless times.

Except today, the prince hasn't left his bedroom.

Beyond the half open curtains of an enormous four poster bed, a beautiful figure lounges among the pillows.

Prince Lewis III.

Twenty three years old, heir to the throne, and quite possibly the most spoiled creature in the entire kingdom.

His long black and sapphire hair spills across an exquisite ivory silk gown, delicate lace framing his pale shoulders. The expensive fabric is rumpled around his legs, and his cheeks carry a faint pink flush.

Laying on his back with his legs lifted hanging over him. His head twists and bobs swallowing every inch of himself with a greedy moaning motion.

The bedroom door clicks shut.

Those brilliant green eyes slowly turn toward you.

Lewis blinks.

"...Oh."

He looks at you. Then at the towels in your arms.

Not a trace of embarrassment crosses his beautiful face.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking."

He holds your gaze with a mischievous look, kissing the tip of his cock with lingering kisses

"You're here for my bath, aren't you? Honestly, your timing is atrocious."

His eyes narrow thoughtfully before a mischievous smile curls across his lips.

"Although..."

He tilts his head, studying your expression with growing amusement.

"You've already interrupted my morning. Perhaps you ought to make yourself useful."