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Choco had forgotten what it was like to think.
The curse he'd beared for years; that ungodly sword, had clouded his mind for longer than he could remember. Its power vanquished nearly all the freewill he had, replacing his thoughts with its own, and reduced Choco to nothing more than its thrall; a pawn to its all-consuming will.
Now, with the blade gone, Choco's mind had become clearer. Quiet. It was a change the prince was not used to. No longer was his mind plagued with thoughts of violence or whispers of destruction.
For the first time in years, Choco was... At peace.
Choco sighed as he threw another piece of wood into the fire. It was a dark, frigid night, as most were in the woods of the Cacao Kingdom, but Choco hardly felt the wind as it brushed across his shoulder. Staring into the flames, a feeling of something almost like tranquility ebbed up in his chest.
It'd be serene, if not for the edge of loneliness brewing alongside it.
He should have expected, with his mind restored, that his thoughts would soon begin to drift to the life he'd once known. His kingdom, his people...
His father.
Choco knew they'd welcome him back now if he'd return, knew they missed him dearly, and he would be a liar to say he hadn't missed them. But there was a hesitance in his heart, an ache that wouldn't let him go home. He wasn't ready yet. He hadn't earned the acceptance of the great kingdom he'd once tried to destroy.
He didn't deserve to face his father. He did not think himself able.
That fact did little to stop Choco's thoughts from drifting, however. With a sigh, the prince leaned back against the snow-covered ground, looking up at the stars through weaving branches of trees, and for the first time since regaining his freewill, he thought.
He thought of his father. The great Dark Cacao Cookie; who had loved him since Choco took his first breath. The man who had raised him, wanted nothing but the best for him, whose thought now made Choco's heart heavy with guilt, and his body burn with need.
In his mind, Cacao would welcome him home and embrace him tightly. Choco would bury his face in his father's neck, breathing in the king's scent and letting it wash over him. His father would hold him close, like he was afraid of losing him again. He'd tell Choco how much he'd missed him, how he forgave him, how he should have treated him better. Perhaps he would even say sorry.
The mere thought of it had Choco panting.
"Father..." Choco whispered, pressing his cheek into the ground beneath him, his hand traveling down to the waistband of his pants and hesitating there.
Choco shouldn't do this. His mind shouldn't work in the way that it does, and his body shouldn't respond to its shameful urges. It was almost worse, in a way, than when he was under the sword's control. Now, Choco had no one to blame but himself.
But the night was cold, and Choco wanted this more than anything; wanted the comfort and warmth only these depraved thoughts could give him.
With a groan, Choco tugged down his pants and took himself in hand. He imagined his father, there with him, guiding him, as he brought his hand slowly up his length, and again, back down.
Just like that, Cacao's voice in his mind said, that familiar gruff baritone that made Choco's face darken with blush, had him biting his lip as his breaths grew short and labored. Good boy, Dark Choco Cookie...
"Oh, please... Please..." Choco whined, throwing an arm across his face as he choked back more sinful noises. He imagined his father watching him, wondered what the king would think if he saw his own son touching himself in this way, calling for him so sweetly.
Such shamelessness... Lusting after your own father this way, Cacao's voice in his head scolded, and Choco's breath hitched at the thought of his father's disapproval. Have you no guilt, flaunting such depravity out in the open, just waiting to be discovered?
Oh, to be seen like this... The mere thought made Choco burn with shame. To be caught this way, his pants down around his knees, with his cock in his hand and his father's name on his lips...
Choco's hand moved faster.
The chill of the night was all but forgotten then, left in the background with the strength of Choco's pleasure. He could almost feel his father there with him, touching him. Choco imagined resting his head on Cacao's broad chest, the king's rough hands rubbing down Choco's back as he pleasured himself in his arms.
Choco's back arched as he neared his release, body drawn taut like a bow as his gasps and moans filled the air. He was so close now, rocking up into his hand, focusing hard on the thought of his father's face, his touch, his voice, telling him to let go.
"Father...!" Choco's voice broke on a moan, forcefully throwing his head back against the ground as pleasure took him. His father's image flooded his mind as he made a mess of himself, arching up into his palm, and for just a moment, it was as if Cacao was truly there with him, holding Choco as he trembled and gasped for him, laid out in the snow.
Desperate whimpers of 'father' fell from Choco's lips as he worked himself through it, going until it hurt to go anymore. With a sigh, Choco let his softened length fall from his hand and pressed back into the ground.
All at once, his thoughts grew silent. The warmth of his fantasy faded away, leaving Choco shivering in the snow, exhausted, and nowhere near as close to his father as he wanted to be.
Guilt tried to creep its way back in, but the soft feeling in Choco's chest made it impossible for the emotion to take hold. He'd been guilty long enough. Now, all he felt was a desperate longing to be held, to be cradled in his father's arms.
I'll be home soon, father, Choco swore. I promise.