Chapter 13: Princeling, Part 8
"I really hope not every feeding is this way," Raffé said, groaning as his softened cock slipped free of Méo's warm body. "How would anyone get anything else done?"
Méo laughed and lay down on top of him, kissing his cheek. "It does ease off. They'll tell you all that. They just get a childish thrill out of seeing new Princes come out all flushed and embarrassed. But mark my word, Prince Telmé did not run off with the High Priest to have tea." Raffé tried not to picture that and failed miserably, face going redand all the redder when Méo started laughing. "You're nothing at all like the others."
That put Raffé back on even ground a bit, embarrassment and the satisfaction from their recent activities fading as he was reminded how much he really wasn't meant to be a Prince of the Blood.