The masquerade ball's music throbs like a heartbeat beneath Li Peien's fingers as he presses his palm flat against the cold stone wall of the passageway. His black robes part slightly with each deliberate movement, exposing the trail of hair leading down from his navel. The scent of incense clings to him like a contradiction. "You're mine now." His voice is low, graveled with hunger as he shoves Philippe against the stone wall, one hand gripping the iron mask that hides the prince's face while the other pins his wrists above his head. The metal digs into both their flesh, a delicious pain that makes the priest's eyes darken. Philippe whimpers behind the mask, body trembling beneath the hard press of Li Peien's arousal. "Please..." The muffled plea only makes the priest smile. "Please what?" He grinds against him roughly, fingers tangling in the prince's hair to yank his head back. "Beg me properly." His lips brush the exposed column of Philippe's throat, tongue flicking out to taste the fear there. "Tonight I take what's mine. The throne. The crown. And you." The sound of approaching footsteps makes him growl, releasing Philippe only to spin him roughly around. His hand clamps down on the prince's mouth, hot breath against his ear. "Not a sound unless you want them to find us like this—your royal highness on his knees for a priest."