Cassian hoisted him up onto the table.
Parchment maps crinkled loudly under Elian's weight. Wooden carved troop markers scattered, a few clattering off the edge and hitting the dirt floor.
"Sire," Elian gasped, his hands flying out to brace himself on the wood. "The battle plans—"
"Are irrelevant," Cassian growled, stepping between Elian's spread thighs. "We won today's battle. Right now, I am claiming the spoils."
He surged forward, capturing Elian's mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss. Cassian's tongue swept past Elian's lips, hot and demanding, staking a claim that sent a shockwave of heat straight to Elian's groin.
Elian's hands, which had been bracing his weight, immediately abandoned the table to tangle in Cassian's dark, damp hair. He pulled the Prince closer, kissing him back with equal ferocity.
