A Line of Soft Princes - Ch. 4 - Midnight Snack (Patreon)

A month later, the newlyweds-to-be lay in Princess Ginevra’s bed together. Bartem lay back, his arms comfortably behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Evie had her head on his chest.

For weeks, Bartem had been enjoying the seclusion of Evie’s personal palace. It had just been the two of them knocking around inside the place. He hadn’t had to worry about meeting other members of the royal family or dealing with mobs of courtiers. It had been an easy entrée into his life as a consort, and it had felt like it would stretch on like that forever.

But their wedding day would change everything. Hundreds of courtiers were arriving the next morning to stay at the palace, including Bartem’s own family.

And the queen.

That was the bit that had him staring anxiously at the ceiling. While Evie had been free to select her own husband, as every noblewoman could expect to, it meant that the current queen had not had a say. Bartem felt a deep sense of inadequacy at the thought of facing the queen and her consort and all of Evie’s siblings.

Evie ran her hand over his belly. “Something’s got you nervous, hasn’t it?”

“Am I really so easy to read?”

“Not that, per se. But I can feel your stomach rumbling, and I know you ate plenty today, so it can’t be that you’re hungry.” She sat up a little so she could look into his eyes. “Is marrying me such a terrible prospect?” Her tone was teasing and she was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You know, that’s the one thing I’m looking forward to tomorrow. We can finally fuck without having to keep quiet,” he said brightly. “Even as I dream of tomorrow evening, however, I am not exactly brimming with enthusiasm thinking of all the disapproving looks I’ll be getting.” They both knew he wasn’t what everyone expected their new prince to look like. He was from a good family, but not one of the best families. He had fine manners, but he did not live for court intrigue or gossip.

“And why should their disapproval concern you?” She meant her words to be gentle, but they came off like a scoff. Bartem realized it was almost impossible for her to understand. While she’d had to meet certain expectations from birth, her position was unique. She had far more freedom than any other noble to do as she liked. If she went against the grain, she was as likely to set a new trend as upset anyone. Evie was the status quo.

“Not all of us are next in line for the throne, pet.” He sighed and wiped a hand down his face. “We can’t all be above reproach.”

Evie opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but she closed it again as she realized she couldn’t really argue. Instead, she pulled the string on her side of the bed that was attached to a bell in the servants’ quarters. “I’ll ask for something to help you to sleep.”

Bartem still wasn’t used to that level of service. While his family had plenty of servants, they also had the courtesy not to wake them in the night unless there was an emergency. It would stand to reason that a princess would have higher expectations, of course.

When the servant knocked at the door, Evie went to meet her and murmured her request. The servant curtseyed. “Yes, Your Highness, right away.” Evie thanked her and closed the door once more, then came back to bed, resting her head on Bartem’s stomach. The two chatted until there was another knock on the door.

“Come,” Evie called out. Three servants filed in, each carrying a tray. They pulled some side tables closer to the bed and set the trays on them silently, then all bowed and walked out.

“Gracious, Evie, I thought you were asking for something to put me to sleep tonight, not enough food to help me sleep through the entire wedding!” That didn’t stop him from pouring himself some herbal-scented tea and sipping at it as he tried to decide what to eat.

“It’s always easier to sleep with a full belly. Helps keep the anxiety down.” She reached out and nibbled on some fruit herself.

Bartem grumbled a little, but began nibbling here and there. Nibbling turned to actual eating. And then it all tasted so good that forty minutes later, he had stuffed himself to the point that Evie was feeding him the last few bites while he sprawled out in bed, groaning. He hadn’t meant to eat so much—certainly not everything—but life was short and the food was good.

After he licked the last bits of chocolate from his wife-to-be’s fingers, she slipped downward, trailing kisses over his swollen tummy and then lower, his cock standing to attention as she nuzzled her face against his thighs. She slipped his cock out of the opening in his breeches, running her tongue along his length until he was rock hard. “Dear girl, I might actually be too full for this,” he moaned.

“Just relax, my prince. You don’t have to lift a finger. I said I would help you sleep, and I meant it.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Do be gentle. If there’s any jostling, I’m afraid all of this—” he patted his stomach for emphasis, and there was a slight sloshing noise “—might come right back up.”

She made a noise like she understood and returned her attention to his cock once more. Bartem did his best to relax and enjoy it. Here he was, the night before his wedding, belly packed full of good food, and the most desirable woman in the country bobbing her head between his legs. At least for that moment, his concerns about his new role were squelched. If this was to be his life, he couldn’t find much to complain about.