Lápiz @lapizlazuli0 - Tumblr Blog

Jul 25

LOVESONG: A Bridgerton Story

— The Prince of Nippon, Sae Itoshi.

˚˖ִ໋ synopsis: Dearest gentle reader, the war hero and Prince of Nippon, SAE ITOSHI, has arrived from the torn battlegrounds of Spain! Even our royal prince is upon the marriage mart, for after years of engagement and ardent dances between the Duke of Iglesias and a certain debutante, both eligible bachelors have seemed to resign themselves to fate. This author wishes to confute this royal affair, for the answer is most obvious. After all, why settle for a duke when one can have a prince?

˚˖ִ໋ contains: NSFW, fem!reader, Bridgerton AU, regency AU, prince!sae, duke!bunny, slowburn, YEARNING, fake courtship/dating, mutual pining, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, PTSD mentions, the Ton, Lady Whistledown's papers, balls, scandals, shidou & bunny cameos, otoya + karasu + sendou + aiku + rin mentions, crying and begging sae, cunnilingus, fingering, wall sex, wall doggy, slight overstim, pussydrunk!sae, pathetic service top!sae, lovesick!sae, he's a lil mean but he means well, unprotected sex, pulling out, slight dacryphilia

˚˖ִ໋ word count: 16k

The ball was meant to be short—a tribute to the welcoming of His Royal Highness, or whatever. It was meant to be quick, celebratory, and painless.

"To our royal prince, Sae Itoshi's arrival!"

The crowd clapped and cheered vehemently; the silk of gloves clacking against each other filled the ballroom for the cold man standing at the centrepiece.

"Thank you."

The Prince of Nippon bowed—albeit awkwardly—and fled to the stands. You tapped your foot against marble flooring a little too aggressively, waiting for this clearly unwanted celebration to end. Whistledown had lied. This ball wasn't the event of the year; it was nothing short of a nightmare, written off with a few longing glances, an exchange of tender laughter, and—

A clatter echoed against marble.

The debutante in the centre had dropped her fan, a proud smile etched on her face as Bunny reached over, gloved fingers brushing the piece.

He picked it up. Oh my god, that fool picked it up.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, skin rubbing against the frilly lace—which was now so, so unfathomably unbearable to the touch. Looking over to the pair, Bunny handed the lady the opulent piece, palm reaching out to hers. And he flashed that moronic smile he swore he only showed you, dimples cratering in the smooth slopes of his cheeks.

That rake.

A voice next to you whispered. "Isn't he engaged?"

"About to be engaged, yet he seems rather elated to dance with this new... debutante."

"Well, her face itself might send an army to war, a man into hysteria."

"Haah!— Wait until they wed; she will surely show her true colours then."

The two girls gossiping beside you cast you a side glance, hair brushing as they leant closer.

"Shush, that is his betrothed."

"She looks like she just witnessed a slaughter. Poor girl."

"Pfft—"

You bit your inner cheek, turning your back to the pair. Hands gripped deep into the fabric of your dress, the urge to crawl into a hole and die was all too consuming—too tempting at the moment. You had to escape from the embarrassment and social crisis your almost betrothed had cast on you and your family name.

And so, you scurried.

The Duke of Iglesias, have you not learnt any commendable decorum on all your little expeditions out of the ton? Has he not raked through enough of Europe before ruining a family name? Your families were going to finalise your engagement at this very ball! It was already incredibly selective to want to marry a man who wasn't balding and old, but it was even more particular to want a decent, young bachelor. So of course, men like Bunny had been an issue; he was coveted by everyone.

And now, he had become your most bothersome mess.

The cold air hit your nape as you stepped outside into the garden, rushing down the steps to soothe your nerves—any of them—until you collided into a broad, strong back.

"Ah—"

You blinked vehemently, stumbling back onto the steps with less grace than you would like to admit. The wind whistled quietly through the air, dancing with the foreboding silence of that man.

Your eyes flitted to a hint of tousled magenta hair.

The Prince of Nippon?

"Oh, I, ah—"

A series of unintelligible apologies and muttering tumbled out of your mouth, wishing the world would just swallow you whole.

He rolled his eyes, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Look to your path next time."

Your brow twitched. His Royal Highness was cold as always, and you would be lying if you had said this was your first meeting with him, because frankly, it was not.

But surely, he was too out of touch in his own lavish life to remember squabbling with an ill-mannered debutante.

...

"Excuse you," you huffed, folding your arms over your chest. "What do you think you're doing speaking to His Grace like that?"

Bunny cast you a surprised glance, lips etching into an amused smile. You met his red gaze, brows furrowing at his stifled laughter.

“What?” You asked Bunny.

He only laughed and shook his head.

The man with magenta hair huffed out a laugh, deep cerulean eyes locking onto yours. "Excuse me?"

If it weren't for his utter audacity, perhaps you would be frightened by his cold glare. But this man paraded around the ballroom like he was important, and you certainly did not take abrasiveness lightly—especially towards your soon-to-be betrothed.

You tilted your head. "What?"

"It is alright." Bunny turned to you, eyes crinkling. "I'm sure His Royal Highness meant no harm in the message."

Your throat tightened.

His Royal Highness?

The prince scoffed, turning away from you.

"How foolish."

...

The words echoed in your head.

Look to your path next time.

He huffed, eyes crinkling in quiet mischief. "...Or His Grace will be worried about you."

You blinked. So he did remember you—as Bunny's betrothed.

You scoffed, hand planted on your hip. "Is that supposed to be some kind of veiled insult, Your Highness?"

"What kind of veiled insult shows concern to the recipient?"

"The kind that—" You clicked your tongue. "The kind that you would make!"

"Your Highness."

You huffed at his correction, head bowing to the marble staircase. "Your Highness."

The prince tilted his head to the side, cerulean eyes raking over your decorated figure. "You need not worry about such trivial affairs."

Your gloved fingers pressed to your temple, shoulders relaxing a tad. Of course he would know about this ridiculous liaison. He was the prince, and today was his celebration. "And do tell, what about this affair sounds trivial to you, Your Highness?"

"It is merely a dance."

"A dance between the diamond of the season and my soon-to-be betrothed."

"Though you are far from a diamond, you should face no trouble in securing another suitor."

Your gaze caught his—a deep colour of teal. Although the Prince of Nippon was strange, cold, and outcast, he was undoubtedly beautiful. Whispers of his moon-soaked beauty travelled from estates to palaces to the papers distributed in the ton.

For a war hero, he sure didn't look like one.

Your thumb flicked over the fabric of your glove. "Almost all of the other suitors pry and take you apart like you're prey."

"Was His Grace any different?"

"Well, he was..."

Kind.

He accommodated you when no one else did, promenading and dazzling you with fancy gifts and thoughtful praise. To call what you and Bunny had love was ridiculous—folly, even. But to call Bunny horrible was...

A lie.

He was pleasant.

"He was young and wealthy—apologies. Does that make me sound opportunistic?" You turned to him, brows furrowed in deep thought.

The prince snorted, a rare sight usually hidden away from the ton. "Not at all. At least you choose to be honest."

"Then we are on the same page. Bunny—Ah, His Grace was most eligible for marriage, and I thought he believed me the same..."

You let out a sigh, your dress suddenly feeling all too befitting and tight around your chest. "I suppose not."

"Iglesias is a foolish man; I take it you are aware of that, for all his gambling endeavours and expeditions to meet beautiful women. It is no surprise that he would disappoint many naive ladies like you."

You were curtly aware of that Bunny was no saint, but he was secure. And what did His Royal Highness have any say in meeting beautiful women? Let alone naive ladies?

"Your Highness, I mean no disrespect, but you are of the same branch. And I am far from naive. Not all of his expeditions are to meet women."

The prince cast you an amused glance, a huff of laughter pulling from his throat.

"Hah!"

He leaned in close, long lashes batting against the ivory of his cheeks. "Soft-hearted girl, what do you think you truly know about His Grace?"

The prince was mocking you—pompously ridiculing you—but his face was inches from yours, and his breath mingled with your sensitive skin. A flush crept up your bare neck, not daring to pull away. "What should I truly know about His Grace?"

His cerulean gaze flickered to your lips, then your decorated lobes. "That he is an undoubted rake, yet possessive of what he deems his."

The prince leant in closer, soft lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Perhaps all you have to do is make him realise this."

Your brows furrowed. "And what makes you think that?"

"We were much thrown together during the late war," he replied, looking past you. "Though I should hesitate to call it friendship."

"You were acquainted in Spain?" Your brows furrowed, leaning closer. "How come nobody knows of this?"

"I like to keep my relationships private," the prince whispered, casting the door a bemused glance. "Unlike a certain bachelor we know."

Footsteps clattered onto the marble ground.

"What are you doing out here?"

Your head turned.

Bunny Iglesias.

"You know it is not safe to wander outside alone." He stepped closer, a smile etching onto his scarred face. But his ruby eyes—they seemed cold. Colder than stone itself.

"I am not alone," you said, tilting your head. "The prince has accompanied me."

You shot the prince a worried glance, who looked almost as confused as you were. Yet his brow flicked as Bunny inched closer, clicking his tongue against his inner cheek.

He seemed to tell the truth about them being rather... distant.

"I would not leave a lady alone, Iglesias," he said, gloved fingers flexing. "I am not like you."

Bunny's hand cupped your shoulder, squeezing a bit harder than he should have. "Greetings to you too, Your Highness."

He smiled—albeit deceptively—and turned to you, pale hair twinkling under the moonlight. "Being alone with another man could ruin you. Let us go inside; your family is looking for you."

"You—" you huffed. "You have no right to say such things."

Bunny cast the prince, who had been cocking a brow at the man, a side glance. "We need not bicker in front of His Royal Highness. At least come inside so I can explain, alright?"

Your eyes darted to Bunny, then the prince, then the prince to Bunny, before your shoulders sagged. Perhaps he had a decent explanation. Perhaps the prince was right, and Bunny truly was a possessive, manipulative rake.

Nonetheless, your eyes met the prince's once more—watching them crinkle in amusement before huffing. "Fine then, amuse me."

Your gloved hand reached out, watching Bunny's face practically melt into relief as he grabbed yours and led you inside of the estate.

Your head turned to the prince, raking over his silken suit to the cutting edge of his jaw. He was a painting of ivory, a deep teal, and the dantiest shade of pink. And he was beautiful, just as the rest of the ton claimed, yet he was not nearly as cold.

He nodded, head bowing towards the ground.

Perhaps all you have to do is make him realise this.

The words rang in your head as you strode up the steps, the implications of his message all too consuming—too tempting.

In the three months you had debuted, a smile had finally graced your lips.

It was the first time you had ever seen a prince dip beneath your gaze.

Dearest gentle reader,

This author finds herself most compelled by this social season's entanglements. The awaited arrival of our royal prince, Sae Itoshi, has been found in plentiful balls—a stark contrast to the bloody battlefields of the late war.

Our prince has never been one for matters of the heart—let alone the bonds of matrimony—yet his eyes are seen wandering every room, every dance, and every whispered secret.

This author wishes to know: is he simply curious about the new debutantes, or have his eyes finally settled on another? It seems our prince requires further inspection indeed.

On the topic of wandering eyes, it seems the Duke of Iglesias has moved on to this season's diamond of the first water. One might expect that a married man should be occupied with properties of the ton and not his frivolous distractions, but this man is not married, and dangerous he is indeed. One must ask: will this social season's debutantes bare their teeth at each other in a bid to secure the cheeky duke? Or shall their interests weaken, discovering much shinier treasure?

Oh, what a scandal! Worry not, my dearest readers; I am certainly as curious as you are.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

"It is quite obvious what I want."

You tilted your head, dainty fingers pressing into the tough flesh of a pineapple in the orangerie. The heat scorched your hat and gloves, absorbing the radiant warmth of sunlight. A new orangerie had opened at your cousin's estate, where bundles of exotic fruit grew and blossomed using technology so advanced – it was no wonder it could attract a prince.

And so, the prince stood before you, eyes raking over a striking shade of yellow. He cast you a sidelong glance, turning his attention back to the fruits.

Your fingers delicately pressed on your chest, clearing your throat. "I want you. All of you."

A cough erupted from his plump lips, his gloved fist slamming his chest.

"Your attempt at flattery seems much more like desperation." He turned away, fingers brushing the expanse of a bright orange fruit—not quite oranges, but much larger and longer.

“Pfft."

Your eyes drifted to the blonde man with pink tips. He must have been the prince’s supposed right-hand man—a knight so peculiar, rumoured to be picked off the commoner streets and from gambling halls. A servant of yours even claimed that he even worked as an illegal boxing champion, but the mere idea seemed so preposterous you could giggle. Though, now looking at his chiselled face and tan, golden skin, that could have been entirely plausible. He certainly appeared dangerous. Thrill-seeking, even.

"That is a papaya!" A sing-songy voice called out, chin hooking over the prince's shoulder. "It tastes wonderful, Your Highness. Mind if I try a bite?"

"This is a gentleman's estate," the prince snapped, swatting the knight's wandering hand. "Behave."

The blonde's pink eyes met yours—they were sparking wildly, like he had been itching for some kind of ecstasy, and his lids were smudged with some kind of burnt cork, a phenomenon you thought only existed for female entertainers.

You truly learnt new things every day.

"You must be the prince's muse he's been talking about!" His large fingers reached for yours, reaching into the silk of your gloves. "It is most pleasant to meet you."

Before you could react, he inched the fabric off further and further, until his cool lips pressed against the bare skin of your wrist.

My, how scandalous!

A flush crept up your ears. "Excuse you!—"

The sound of a blade whistled through the air, like a diamond's cutting edge. The prince had withdrawn his sword to his right-hand knight, slicing off a piece of his knight's ponytail.

"You are to control yourself, you devil," he huffed. "Do not precariously touch any woman you please, for she is nobility."

The knight smirked against your skin, unhanding you. "Do you really want to do this right now, Your Highness?"

Several attendants and barons looked your way, whispers echoing within the garden's bushes as the prince placed his blade in its sheath. Like the pair had been used to brawling at any given moment.

"Absolutely not. We are in public.”

His cerulean gaze met yours—albeit quite shyly. “I apologise."

You blinked, pushing the fabric of your glove up your wrist as the knight quietly returned to his position beside the prince, a hint of a smile etched on his mischevious lips.

"...It is alright. As I was saying, Your Highness, my mind is quite made up! For it is you that has borne me the fruits, and it is my duty to let them flourish."

He scoffed, quirking a brow. "The fruits that I have borne you were not an invitation to involve me in your engagement. And from what I saw, the issue had already been resolved."

Irritation flared in your chest, recalling the other night's events. "Nothing was resolved. Bunny is truly a man who only thinks of women."

The prince locked eyes with you, scanning every crinkle and every sparkle, and scoffed ever so quietly.

"I told you."

You sighed, fingers drumming against the exotic fruit. "He claimed that his papa had forced him to enchant the season's diamond in place of marrying me."

He furrowed his brows. "For what reason?"

"Status? Reputational affairs? Nonetheless, it's ridiculous. And I refuse to settle for a man who cannot even deny his father's wishes."

The knight peeked from the prince's shoulder once more. "You seem very sure of what you want, Miss. It is quite admirable."

You tilted your head, graciously lifting your dress and bowing to the man. "Thank you, whatever your name is."

"Ryusei Shidou, but you can call me whatever you wish."

The prince cleared his throat. "Regardless, even if His Grace could not satisfy you with his answer, I still have no reason to be involved in such a liaison."

You clicked your tongue against your cheek. "You have disdain for His Grace, am I right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"And you must have a hoard of mamas crowding you with marrying off their daughters. Am I also right?"

The prince's gloved fingers rubbed against each other under the heat. "You are not wrong..."

"So, it would be most beneficial towards the both of us," you said. "Our arrangement will shoo away all the mamas while I can secure a marriage this season and remind His Grace of who his heart truly belongs to."

You clenched your fist, pressing it to your chest. "And become the Duchess of Iglesias."

A silence coiled in the humid air.

"She looks determined, Your Highness," Ryusei cooed, a smirk etching on his lips. "Are you truly going to let her down like that?"

"Shush, this is..." The prince's hand dragged down his smooth cheek. "An unnecessary endeavour."

You frowned, lips pursing in anticipation as your eyes locked with his.

"However, I do not wish to enter the marriage mart anytime soon, and the look on Iglesias' face would be..."

For the first time, a raw, open smile graced the prince's lips. A flash of white pearls adorned with the soft plush of his lips. If this were a painting captured, some would say he looked like a madman, a loon, but to you, he was, and always was, delectably intriguing.

Like something you wanted to dissect piece by piece.

His gloved fingers grazed his cheek in a quiet excitement. "His face would be all too amusing to miss."

"...I see," you nodded. "Then our arrangement shall begin tomorrow. We will go promenading every morning and dance together at the next ball."

Ryusei threw his head back in a fit of laughter, eyes darting between the two of you. "That smile! Your Highness, you truly are a barbarian."

The prince stepped forward, shoulder-bumping the knight's. "Hush, brat."

He reached out to you and extended his hand. "May I?"

You nodded.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand, his long lashes batted against his ivory cheeks, magenta locks cradling the sides of his face.

Your breath hitched; the sight of him was so unnatural it sent tremors down your spine, coiling into your stomach. That the cold prince of Nippon was kneeling before you. Touching you. Kissing your hand.

He quickly let go.

"Well then, it is a pleasure doing business with the future Duchess."

You knew he was being obnoxious, yet you lifted your skirt and curtsied.

"Isn't it? Be amazed, Your Highness."

Perhaps today was a bit rushed. After all, you had no intention to attract this many stares. Though, what were you truly expecting? This was a prince you were talking about. A handsome one at that.

You slung your arm around his, your dress softly flowing as you promenaded along the ton's garden, where whispers of your arm linked with the prince's echoed. The sun cast a warm light over your skin, but the heat beside you...

It was also warm.

The prince coldly glanced at the passerby. "What is so interesting about this garden?"

You tilted your head, scoffing. "Do you not enjoy nature, Your Highness?"

"I enjoy coastal views. The beach. Not this kind of nature."

"Oh? I hear that Spain has beautiful beaches."

His expression faltered.

"...They do."

You jolted. Was that rather insensitive to say? He did fight in the late war in Spain, yet he lived away from home for so long.

Even after the war ended. Even before it started.

"Perhaps I could visit one day, when I am married, of course..." you whispered, perking up. "Or, if I do end up a spinster, I could travel there. Receive noble education."

His chest puffed up. "You seem rather delighted at the idea of spinsterhood."

"I am indifferent towards the matter," you said, eyes fixed on the grass. "It is my duty to marry. Though, if no one would like to..."

"I'm quite certain you have options."

Your gaze swept across the garden, your eyes meeting the surprised stares from various gentlemen, who smiled at you. It was surely because of the bachelor's arm you were on.

You smiled sheepishly.

"Still, if..." you said, head turning to him. "Though I am certain with your help, I will gain freedom as a wedded noble woman."

He hummed in acknowledgement.

"Can I ask you a question, future Duchess?"

A flush crept up your neck as he used that awful nickname. "Of course, but lower your voice."

He paused, following your request. "You seem averse to the idea of a loving marriage."

Your head tilted to face his, which had been staring at you so inquisitively.

A laugh burst out of your lips, gloved fingers pressing to your mouth. "My, are you some kind of secret hopeless romantic, Your Highness?"

His cerulean gaze shifted away. "What kind of conclusion is that?..."

"You seem inclined to the idea of a loving marriage."

He scoffed. "As if I have any interest in marriage. Rather..."

His chest tightened, the bolo tie straining against his chest. "The novels directed towards women are rather full of romance."

The prince paused.

"It's sweet."

Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. "You read romance novels?"

"A few."

"How come?"

"They're everywhere," he paused. "They're not bad."

"How surprising! You are a hopeless romantic!"

His head turned, the tips of his ears turning a rosy hue. "Stop with that term."

"It is not a bad thing to enjoy romance," you smiled. "It is just fantasy, after all."

"What makes you say that?"

You leant in closer. "If that were true, perhaps I'd be madly in love with the Duke after spending a year under his courtship."

The prince's lips twitched, like he wanted to say something, yet he didn't.

"I do not think it is a matter of love existing; it is just the Duke—"

"But he is handsome, wealthy, and seemingly kind. Why wouldn't I be in love with him if it existed?"

His nose had been scrunched as if he tasted something awful.

Why was he insisting upon something so delusional? Did the prince experience some kind of novel-like romance in the past?

"Love is not about what someone has; it is simply about who they are." He sucked in a sharp breath. "Your idea of love is so shallow."

"Your idea of love is merely overwrought."

"Overwrought? I just believe that love isn't about status." He clicked his tongue against his inner cheek. "It's just... different."

The word sunk deep into your chest. You nodded slowly. "Different how?"

"It’s like... being jolted by lightning. Or getting butterflies. Whatever they call it these days. Do you truly believe it does not exist?"

He blinked at you curiously, even perplexedly.

"Yes, but it is quite alright. Comfort and safety should be the goal, not whatever your metaphors suggest."

The prince laughed. A raw, baffled laugh, lips curving into a soft smile. "Perhaps you are the cold-hearted one between us two."

Your nose scrunched in denial. Offence? Both?

Yet something unfamiliar in your chest stirred. It was a rare sight to behold, and you had the honour of seeing it twice—the prince smiling. Even if it were to mock you.

Feelings like butterflies and lightning or fire did not exist. Marriage was merely an arrangement. A contract of safety and security.

Your eyes flitted to his plump lips.

Right?

This ball was entirely important to your debut as a woman—a lady of the ton, a future mother, and a role of nobility. To be a woman was to decorate oneself in the most precious of jewels, the fanciest of silks, and nonsensical talents for display.

To be a woman was to speak and dance with several eligible bachelors one after the other, assuming they find perfection in you in each one.

To be a woman was to adorn oneself in riches, because though a lady had nothing, she might as well have appeared as if she had everything.

To not be a woman was to scheme with a prince behind the ton's back, because loveless marriages were marriages, not courtships to trap a duke into matrimony.

You could count the suitors you have danced with today on one hand—Lord Karasu Tabito, a man of few words, yet untamed wit. He had an affinity for crows and his best mates, and he was kind and clever, but he did not... He did not feel like he could be yours, and you could be his.

Did such feelings even exist?

Then, there was Lord Otoya Eita. Quite infamous for his penchant for women, yet apathetic and downright shallow. You noticed that he much preferred flirtatious nothings over a conversation with substance just from a single dance with him.

...

Lord Otoya spun you around with the flick of his wrist, bringing you the shell of your ear close to his lips. A brush of deception hidden with affection—a trap, essentially.

"It seems as if our souls were dancing, my lady," he said, like he was whispering a poem. "Would you like to involve our lips next?"

Your nose scrunched.

"I am quite alright, Lord Otoya," you said, lip upturning a fraction—not caring so much if he were to see your sneer.

...

Your dances followed the Earl of Aiku, also named Oliver Aiku—a charming man indeed. He bore a natural talent for leadership and a wise way with words, yet he seemed to view marriage more of an obstacle than the union of two people, of course excluding his time spent raking through the country. And your final suitor was Lord Sendou Shuto, who seemed to speak as if he were chewing food—it was completely and utterly unattractive!

Bunny was on the other side of the room, handing the diamond lemonade without a care in the world. How could he act so cold in a crowd, yet caring in private?

It was maddening, but you had made a mistake.

This was not your final dance.

The Prince of Nippon had made his way into the ball, approaching you. And your senses failed you, lips parting at the sight of his gloved fingers reaching for yours, a touch ever so gentle yet oddly so fabricated.

Several voices whispered to each other, each man and woman, all with their jaws slack and lips pursed.

"Pardon the intrusion. May I have this dance?"

His brows were furrowed; a flush crept up his neck, standing in the centre of a crowd with cruel, nitpicking eyes. He seemed quite shy, like it was his first time indulging in courtship. And yet, he remained.

And he had kept his word! The prince had kept his word!

"Yes," you nodded, eyes darting to Bunny's, who had been watching with a flicked brow. "You may."

The violins wove together a melodious tune, befitting a dance between a prince and a noblewoman—one that competed to become his wife. Though you were not competing to be the object of his affection, and you would never become his wife. Yet your feet wove together to create a wondrous pattern, moving in graceful sync with his, brows furrowing as his lithe fingers reached for your waist, holding you close against his silken suit.

"For a prince, you would be surprised by how rarely I dance."

You stifled a snicker. "Hn, it is not as surprising as you think, Your Highness."

His brows furrowed, lips pursing as his feet moved.

"'Your Highness' will not do," he said. "Call me Sae."

Right, an arranged courtship would not be nearly as convincing if you were to use his royal title.

"Sae," you uttered, testing the word on your tongue. It lingered longer than you expected. "Your lack of dancing is not surprising."

"Is that some kind of veiled insult, future Duchess?"

"It is entirely an insult, Sae."

"Keep speaking, for nonsense suits you, as well."

"I will not hesitate to step on your feet."

He bit back a smile, his head turning to the crowd. "Step on them, then. Make haste before I have to endure this mating ritual any longer."

"Mating? What on earth is mating?" You patted his shoulder once to return his gaze.

"Well, the works of marriage, of course," he said, cerulean eyes glistening with mirth. "It is a word I picked up from my brother, who has an affinity for living things. As long as they are not human."

Mating. Perhaps it is the official union between two people? Was that not the ceremony of matrimony itself?

You yielded, laughing. "Your brother is quite famous on the paper for his skills in knighthood."

"His skills are mediocre. I know of at least fifty capable men that fought in the late war."

His words sounded bitter, hiding a hint of... unease, perhaps pain.

"Did they come back?"

There was a pause.

"...You should not be concerned with such matters; there are more important ones. Such as Iglesias eyeing you."

He gestured to his right, where Bunny had been stationed by the drinks stand. His jaw had been in some kind of slack, and his ruby eyes were wide and fixed on you. In that moment, your stomach churned madly.

Bunny acknowledged you. He stared at you. Did he—

Then, Sae gently spun you around, his free hand resting at your waist and tugging you close. The gesture was graceful, preformed by a prince indeed, and yet—

His lips brushed your ear, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

"You seem nervous."

A shiver trickled down your neck, breaths so close that they danced together on their own. Sae watched you for a moment; one would even say he was amused.

Amused!

"That is entirely out of the question," you whispered, expelling a soft breath against his lips.

He smiled.

"Yet you look downright flushed."

As the dance commenced, you spun out of his grasp, hand held in his, and returned to your original position. Your arms slung over his broad shoulders, avoiding the crinkle forming between your brows.

"It is merely the nature of this situation."

"Oh? I recall you being eager to be courted by a prince."

You quirked a brow, feet moving in sync with his. "To utter is far simpler than to act."

Sae cast a glance around the crowd, who had been carefully watching your every step, every moment, and every whisper. Judgement and fixation had been the utter nature of the ton. It was a testament to what it meant to be nobility—to be a debutante.

"Unease is part of this arrangement," he said, pulling you an inch closer. "Do not be afraid of their eyes."

Your breath hitched, the heat of your palm slowly encompassing the heat of his. Placing your palms atop one another, your fingers splayed across his much longer ones.

Sae leaned in close, so close that nobody else would hear. "Theirs do not matter. Only mine."

Your steps faltered, stepping out of sync with the violin once as your brows rose in surprise.

"You are no different than Bunny, or Lord Aiku, or even Lord Otoya!" You whispered, falling back into place.

"Hn, I suppose you shall get used to it, future Duchess. As far as I know, Iglesias is far worse than I am."

You frowned.

So why?

The words stuck in your throat.

Why was he so much more daunting?

Dearest gentle reader,

It has been said that of all bachelors, searching or waiting, a rake is most lethal. If that should be true, perhaps the Royal Family should like to spit out their venom. This author investigates a waking scandal within the debutantes and suitors of this social season, uncovering a question that is left unanswered and unresolved: if a suitor is too fickle to evince his devotion to a lady, should she be expected to wait? Or is it only natural for a more daring counterpart to swoop in and claim her heart?

This author finds this question most novel, standing in contrast to the more banal of affairs within the ton. For what diamond of the first water swoons from a suitor that lacks his lustre? And more importantly, what kind of prince takes interest in the most unattainable of ladies? One can only wonder if such a matter is a display of affection or possession.

Oh my, how very convenient indeed.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

It had been one month since then.

As one expected of a noble girl, your mornings were spent promenading with Sae, and your afternoons were spent conversing with the various other suitors that could be your husband.

There was no proper sight of Bunny, though. He certainly had been watching, eyes fixed on your figure whenever you walked through a room. And though he had still been courting this season's diamond, his smug smile seemed to falter at your gaze.

Or were you just hoping?

Ever since your last conversation with the Duke, he had not even shared with you a greeting but the turning of his head. There was still the question that he would come back, just as he promised, as he was not wed.

Or again, you were just hoping.

The carriage ride from tonight's ball was a short excursion from Lord Aiku's estate to yours. And after Sae and his driver bickered about your whereabouts inside his carriage, to which the driver implied you were being promiscuous, the time at midnight allowed you inside, seated directly across from him in the dark, enclosed space.

The window was cracked open, moonlight shining through the carriage, and the deafening silence had been pulling at you, tempting you to break it.

"I am getting quite tired of attending all these balls, don't you think?"

Sae's palm had been squished under his cheek, turning to you. "You have been attending these balls for the past year."

"That was because there was a clear objective. Talk to the duke, enchant the duke, get married to the duke." You sighed. "It's getting redundant now. None of the suitors are befitting."

"And you have been properly conversing with them, yes?"

"Certainly. They are either overwhelming or underwhelming for my tastes..."

"Then perhaps you need to let this Duchess fantasy go, hm?" He said, gloved fingers drumming over the carriage's interior. "You are too distracted with His Grace."

"He was promised to me, I—"

"He is clearly unworthy of your affection," he stated calmly, like it was a mere fact. "Find someone better."

"Your advice is so very obtuse..." you bit your inner cheek, staring into the cushions across from you. "I just told you that all the suitors were not for my tastes."

He paused.

"What are your tastes, then?"

"Someone..." you start, "—who knows what they want besides a wife or a mother to their children. Someone ambitious. Someone without distractions."

Sae snickered. "You do not want a close-minded man or a rake. I understand."

"Then again, I seem to believe that most of the men in this ton are of the same branch..." you sighed, palm squishing under your cheek. "How utterly boring."

His brow flicked. "I do not think so."

"You do not?"

"There are a handful of honourable men."

"Honourable men..." The words flow off your tongue. "Yes, there are honourable men."

Men like Lord Sendou, Marquess Yukimiya, and even Lord Karasu. Yet...

"There is something odd about honourable men."

He quirked a brow. "Do tell."

"They become rather... flushed when the topic of children rouses."

Sae's hand pressed to cover the lower half of his eyes, crinkling under the moonlight's embrace. "...I see."

"What is so nerve-wracking about children for men? Is it childbirth? Though I imagine it is far more nerve-wracking for women..."

He coughed into his fist. "Why are you so curious?"

"Because it is an important milestone in marriage," you huffed. "And whenever I ask my family, they dodge every question I throw!"

"I assure you, there is a reason for that," he chuckled.

"What reason, then?"

"It is not my place to tell you."

"You are a man who clearly knows something I do not," you leaned in. "Plus, this whole thing is fake, anyway. You do not have to worry about ruining me."

Sae's cerulean eyes sparked with something like amusement, a dangerous one indeed, before blinking it away. "I have always prided myself on being a gentleman, and I would like to keep it that way."

"Oh, come on," you whined, nudging his foot. "One little explanation will not ruin me."

His foot nudged you back—a gentle kick to your flats. Meeting your eyes once, he sighed.

"Do you remember when I called ballroom dances a mating ritual?"

You paused. "Yes."

"Mating is the proper word for... the act of having children."

Your eyes widened a fraction. "And what is the act of having children?"

"I will not say the word, but I suppose I can describe it." He paused. "It is pleasurous, which is why so many men are drawn to it."

You leaned in close, your lips parting in anticipation. "And?"

"It is a culmination of intimate touches, and..." He leaned in closer—a secret only you could hear. "Love, if that is what your marriage is founded on."

Love.

"But if not founded on love, then the desire to bear children. And the desire to bear children is founded on..."

His gloved fingers snaked around your wrist, gently leading your hand down.

Down.

Down to your crotch, sectioned between the warmth between your legs. One that grew more and more aching with each second. Your breath hitched, though your fingers only touched your dress. Only touched the silk—

"The need for pleasure. Right here."

You met a drowning pool of cerulean that gazed at you, rivulets of lightning charging the air.

"So... what exactly happens here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"Your husband would touch you—I mean, you could also touch yourself, but..." He flushed ever so slightly. "Marriage is a union between two people, yes?"

You nodded.

"You unite their lives, hearts, and money, and in this case..."

Sae leaned in, breath brushing your ear. You could not see him. You could not feel him despite the hand wrapped around your wrist. You could not touch him.

So why?

Why did his words ignite into your skin?

"You unite your bodies," he whispered, pulling away a fraction. "Does that make sense?"

Sae let go of your wrist, eyes locked onto yours, waiting for an answer.

You only had more questions.

"So..." you murmured, fingers snaking towards him. "If my pleasure is founded here, and you have to unite bodies, is your pleasure..."

Your fingers grazed his breeches, palm pressing into the spot between his legs. It felt much different than what you had—twitchy, quite squishy, and...

Hard?

"Is your pleasure founded here?"

His breath hitched, gloved fingers closing over yours. "Fuck."

Sae's words and actions were so utterly obscene, and the heat on your palm grew by the second, stiffening in your hold. You had never seen anything so nasty and raw. Not his flushed, brow-scrunched face or the tremble of his lips. Not the warmth between his legs—and certainly not the warmth between yours. Yet—

The carriage came to a quick stop, jolting you onto him. "Your Royal Highness, we have arrived!"

He panted, removing your hand. "Go. Make haste before anyone sees you."

You pulled away, vision hazy and breath rampant. Your heart thudded in your chest, like it could jump out at any given second. The prince was right—any passerby could see you and ruin you.

And it would not be unjust.

You fumbled for the carriage door, fingers trembling as you gave Sae one final look.

"Goodnight, Sae."

His fingers were pressed to his temple, his eyes shut and his breath hitching.

"...Go."

The words rang in your head.

Go.

And so, you threw the door open and scrambled out.

This is truly not the kind of night Sae expected to spend on a Saturday.

The next day would fall on Sunday—a day of rest from his paperwork, the land he oversaw, and rebuilding his body to endure any hardship thrown his way. On a regular Saturday night, he would enjoy drinking with Lord Aiku, begrudgingly Lord Sendou, and even his faithful knight, Ryusei, however...

You beamed next to him, arm slung around his, promenading in the dark field of the royal palace.

This was not quite the place Sae would have expected, yet he did not mind as much as he should have.

"Why is the ton out so late?" He scowled. "This celebration cannot be that important."

"Sae," you turned to him, brows furrowing. "This is the celebration of your brother debuting as an official royal knight!"

He huffed. "He is a prince. Not a knight."

"You are the heir to the throne, anyway. Becoming a knight shall not hurt anyone."

"—Besides himself."

It was true. All young knights start off ambitious to protect their nation. It is only reasonable—expected, even. There was a dark truth about knighthood that little Rin just did not seem to understand: the battlefield reeked of death, and every cry, every torturous scream, will haunt you.

Yet another memory, far less harrowing and violating than the war, refused to leave him.

Your palm pressed against him.

He did not want to speak about the matter; in fact, a flush began to creep up his neck at the mere thought. You were...

Curious, too much so for your own good. And if any other man was in his place, you would have been ruined.

He sighed. What a fool he had agreed to court. Fake court.

You turned to him, bottom lip jutting out a fraction. "Be happy for him. Some brother you are..."

His gaze raked over your figure, pampered in the fanciest of silks and jewels as always. You were beginning to grow on him—his most bejewelled parasite. After all, you two had quite the symbiotic relationship.

"Don't tell me how to handle my brother. You have clearly never seen the situations of death he put me through as boys."

You pressed your fist to your lips, laughing softly. "That must have been demanding for you!"

"You have no idea."

He turned to the sky—a dark shade of midnight as the stars faintly twinkled under the moonlight. The air was warm, yet it wasn't so bothersome.

Tonight.

It was a sight to behold.

You gasped excitedly. "Did you know the Queen is holding a surprise for the new knight?"

"Oh? And she did not tell me..." he squinted. "But of course, the rest of the ton already know."

Sae paused, turning to you, who was too fixated on the glimmering stars to respond. Or even listen, he assumed.

He squinted again. "What is the surprise?"

You did not turn to him—did not even spare him a glance. "Fireworks."

Fireworks?

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

This was troublesome.

"What?" His brows pinched together as he leaned close. "Since when?"

"Since yesterday. It is not my first time seeing fireworks, but I am still quite excited."

His breath began to hitch, his heart thudding against his chest. "When are they coming?"

You clicked your tongue against your cheek, the back of your hand swatting his chest. He pulled back, coughing into his fist.

He had been far too close to you.

"It should be very soon. What? There are no fireworks in Spain?"

Spain had plenty. He could practically feel the heat shattering against his skin—the explosions booming against his eardrums.

The whistle. The cries.

Their cries.

"I... should excuse myself," he panted, head frantically turning in every direction.

"But they're just about to start—"

A loud, booming voice declared.

"To the celebration of our new royal knight, Itoshi Rin!"

The crowd cheered vehemently, their hands raising towards the sky. A chant of celebration, pride, and happiness. Happiness to Rin. His family. His name. The new, royal knight—

The new royal knight. Rin could not possibly be a new royal knight. He was going to die—

An earsplitting boom exploded into the air, following the shatter of a bright orange explosion.

He was going to die. The screams were going to erupt. Their hearts would collapse. The air would turn an unbreathable mess of dirt and grime. Death. It was approaching.

Not again. Not again.

"It is truly beautiful— Sae?"

You turned to him, leaning close. "Sae? Are you alright?"

His throat burnt, chest heaving against the clothes that were suddenly too hot—too itchy for him. He did not answer. He could not answer. "W-Wait—"

Your fingers softly pressed against his trembling shoulder, causing him to you—eyes wide and fixed on him.

This time, you asked softer. "Sae?"

An orange light was cast upon your skin, gleaming softly. Your jewellery glimmered under that light—that forsaken light.

It would overtake you.

His heart slammed against his ribs, his eyes darting to your skin, your eyes, your lips, the stones adorning your—

"Stay still," he panted. "Do not move. It'll be alright, I promise."

Sae's breath could not catch up with his words, shaking fingers reaching out to you. "I will protect you."

Your brows furrowed. "Protect me? I am alright—"

He leaned closer, a trembling hand shielding your face from the sight. From the explosion. From death. "Are you certain?"

You paused, fingers stilling against his suit.

"Are you certain?" Sae pressed forth, heaving against you. "Are you certain? You're certain?..."

Your fingers reached out to his, gently leading his palm to cover a spot on your chest, where—

Your heart. It was beating against him. It was wild, yet you stood.

You were alive.

"I am alright," you whispered. "I am breathing."

He paused, swallowing thickly, processing his words and his thoughts. You were alive. You were safe.

Your brows furrowed, squeezing tighter. "I am safe."

The noises began to simmer—melting into the sea of people cheering and celebrating with their families. They were loud; they boomed and shattered against his ears. Yet, death—

Was it approaching? Would it dare?

His gaze raked over you: your unblinking eyes, your heaving chest, your trembling fingers.

You were alive.

Sae expelled a breath he didn't realise he was holding, leaning so close—impossibly close—that his nose brushed against yours and the heat of your skin melded into his.

"Stay still," he whispered. "Right here."

You blinked, lashes fluttering against his own. The noises would be drowned out if you stayed close. You would be safe if he willed it. The heat of you encompassed him, and his heart began to slow down. It still beat wildly, but not dangerously.

It was a different kind of danger.

His stomach fluttered, gaze meeting yours.

You knew that too, didn't you?

Sae's palm immediately retracted, stepping away from you in frantic steps. "You—"

You stepped away, lashes batting against your cheeks. Your fingers were trembling at your sides, reaching to press against your chest—the spot he just palmed.

"That was—"

He caught your gaze, eyes wild and utterly bewildered as you both turned away, cheeks flushed.

He wanted to retort, to defend himself, his hand clutching his chest. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. You were utterly insane for making him touch you like that!

Sae's heart had already steadied. He had been sure of it.

So why?

Why did it pound against his chest like that?

"I want to cancel this arrangement."

The words echoed in the chill in the Royal Palace's garden. Sae stood across from you, his head tilted to the floor. Stoic, as always, yet he seemed like he was hiding something.

He was, wasn't he?

"Why?"

Your fingers flexed at your sides, not daring to tear away from his cerulean gaze. Even if it was distant. Even if his actions did not match his words. Sae must have had his reasons. He would've had to.

His hands clenched into fists. "I have neglected my commitments in Spain, so I am heading back next week."

His words cut through the misty air.

You had many questions—one of confusion, anger, understanding, and... hurt.

Why did this hurt?

Why was he leaving? Why couldn't he stay? What commitment or business or contract could possibly be so important to leave? He had just come back.

"But..." Your throat burnt. "Why?"

He scoffed, turning his head to the side.

"I am a knight. Not a knight accompanying the palace, but this country. I have duties."

"The war is over."

"You cannot be certain."

Your gaze met his, and for once, for the first time, the prince looked cold-hearted. His icy, pale skin along with the pink tips of his hair. And his frigid gaze, shifting away from yours.

He was cold.

Something bitter twisted in your stomach. It pulled at you, grated at you, and warned you. You did not want an answer—not even the truth, just one, sweet lie.

"...You want to leave?"

He paused.

"Yes."

A long silence stretched between the two of you, accompanied by the soft mist coiling in the air and the winds softly blowing the flowers in the garden. This palace was Sae's; it was not your own, and it was beautiful, but—

When your eyes settled on his, it had seemed the flowers had lost their sparkle. And suddenly, your stomach twisted into knots, an unfamiliar burning sensation tugging at your heart.

It ached.

The thought of Sae leaving to Spain bothered you. Matter of fact, it distressed you.

"But I..." you said, beginning to frantically pace across the grass. "But I do not want you to!"

Sae clicked his tongue against his inner cheek. "It is not a matter of what you want!"

His eyes were wide and his chest heaved, his voice straining against his throat to lower. "It is what I want."

Sae could not possibly wish to leave, for he had just arrived here in the ton—his home—and it was ever so lovely. Why could he not see that it was lovely here? Why could he not see that being with him was lovely?

Why did he have to ruin this?

You paused, turning to him.

"Is that truly what you want?"

His brow quirked, taking a step back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you may be right, Sae." You take a step closer, cornering him. "About your thesis. Your theory."

Your heart ached as your eyes met his. "I do not want you to leave. It is a selfish reason, but I want you to stay. Right here."

A flush crept up your neck. "Is that love I'm feeling?"

His gloved fingers pressed to his temple, a scoff escaping his throat.

"What are you talking about?"

What were you talking about? Your mouth seemed to move before your brain could think, and perhaps your words did not come from your brain at all. It came deep down to the beating of your heart.

It thudded.

"...The lightning that strikes me when we touch."

Your fingers twitched, wondering what it would be like to interlace yours with his. You cannot help but zero in at his quivering digits, pressed to his temple.

You cannot help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

"...Or the fluttering in my stomach when you come close."

You take a bold step closer, lips twitching as he does not move back.

"Is that merely a physical feeling?" You tilted your chin up, facing him. "Or is it something more? Something overwrought?"

The tips of Sae's ears flushed pink, his bottom lip trembling. "You're— You're doing it again."

"Really?" You leaned close, brows pinched in determination. "Is that what this is?"

"This was merely an arrangement," he punctuated, his head turning. "An act to make your swain envious. He is clearly attracted to you, for he cannot take his eyes off you."

Sae paused, swallowing thickly. "So it is done. We are done with this arrangement. This fake relationship—"

"—How could you call this fake?!"

You paused, your throat burning. "Besides the balls and the dancing and the promenading. How is any of this fake?"

Your chest strained against your dress, vision beginning to blur—an endeavour you wished would never happen. Not like this. Not in front of him.

Sae panted, his hand gesturing to the side. "It is fake! The..."

A dreadful silence encompassed the air.

His hand fell limp to his side, his chin tilting to the grass once more.

"...I must go."

He began to trudge forth, his shoulder brushing yours. And unexpectedly, you followed.

"Curse me for a century or damn me to hell. Call me hysterical for saying what we had was real. You do not have to accept it; you do not even have to think about it or take responsibility. You just have to know it."

You panted, slamming your palm to your chest—as if something feral were going to burst out.

"That I've never felt this way about anyone else. Not Bunny or any other suitor. Only you."

Sae pressed his fingers to his temple, heaving as each word tumbled from your lips. "Please, I cannot—"

"Tell me it was fake. Tell me it was nothing more than an arrangement. Tell me."

Silence pierced the garden as Sae's arms fell from his temples, dead weight at his sides.

He turned, looking so utterly broken—any sparkle or emotion was completely void from his eyes.

Yet in that void, there was a hint of pain.

"...It hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Leaving home. Leaving my baby brother, my family, my country—"

A hiccup echoed in the cold air of the garden, followed by the glassy tears pricking Sae's eyes. It was the first time you had seen him so hurt. So pained. So fragile.

"The men I called friends. The dawning weight that I was going to lose."

He bit his bottom lip, tears slipping down the ivory slopes of his cheeks.

"That I was going to die."

Your head shook. "Sae—"

"I had been living like a dead man almost a decade ago. When I came back alive, it felt like a victory as much as it felt like being stabbed in the gut," he said, lip trembling. "And I swore I had died years ago. That I was a shell of a man—a void of a heart."

"So why?" Sae's palm pressed against his wet eyes. "Why do I feel this way with you?"

Your eyes softened at his desperate words, hands falling to your sides.

"When fireworks shoot into the sky, I am pulled out of damnation into this nightmare of a life," he continued. "They explode and shatter—the noise is all too consuming, all too much."

Sae pressed his palm to his heart, fingers scrunching into the fabric. "But when you consoled me, I swore I had met salvation."

He trembled, yet continued.

"At first I figured you must be some kind of angel, but I was wrong. You... You ask too many questions. You laugh in places that are inappropriate to. You cry at my foolish words." He panted, expelling a harsh breath that coiled into the misty air. "You feel so real, so kind, that I'm afraid I might taint you."

Sae's fingers—cold and smooth—reached for yours, cupping your skin like you were glass. "So please, marry Bunny. He is wealthy, stable, and will give you a secure life. One filled with children and happiness."

He squeezed.

"Can you do that for me? Can you choose yourself?"

You sniffled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I am choosing myself. I am choosing you."

He shook his head.

"No. No, you're not."

Marriage was supposed to be merely an arrangement. A contract of safety and security. It was not loving, not the burning kind of ache for one another. It was supposed to be stagnant.

Marry Bunny. Marry Sae.

Two completely different sentences, each foreign to the other.

One made perfect sense.

The other made your heart burn.

Dearest gentle reader,

It is often said that best wishes are given to those who have earned it. This author questions that statement, but make no mistake, for it is my pleasure to announce the official betrothal of the Duke of Iglesias and his soon-to-be lady!

Some may have questions, but this author never doubts. If there is a suitor that has been so reckless to have let an emerald slip through his fingers, then he should throw on his boots and make haste. Yet, something tells this author that the ton’s favourite bachelor is not a man who loses fights.

The fight is still on, my dear readers, with the question of true love or scandal.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

Sae doesn't know why he ran.

Yet he only clutched the paper tighter in his grasp, boots colliding onto the expanse of the soil beneath his soles.

And he ran, and he will run again if it means reaching you.

The golden double doors of your estate burst open.

"I apologise."

Your head spun, eyes wide and fixed on the figure in front of you. Sae's hands had been perched on your doorframe, chin tilted to the marble flooring. An utterly dishevelled mess of magenta locks, hooded cerulean eyes, and the pompous chaos of his silken suit.

A striking colour of raven that strained at his chest with each heavy breath, contrasting the ivory column of his neck—

"Y-Your Royal Highness!"

Your head attendant bowed awkwardly, tilting her head to face him. "A-Are you here for?—"

His gaze met yours.

A single shade of teal that set your heart on fire.

"A word," he said, unmoving.

Your attendant's eyes darted from his to yours, forcing a laugh. "Then we must set up the common room."

You remained still, lips parting at his disarray. He was a bastard. A fool. A liar and a prick.

Still, your heart thumped against your ribcage.

"No," you tore your gaze away, darting to the floor. "He only needs a word."

"My lady, that is highly inappropriate—"

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "It is alright. It is only a word."

"You mustn't."

Your attendant softly touched your shoulder, eyes drowning in worry. Pity, almost. Like she knew what kind of fiery dispute occurred between a suitor and his muse.

It was fake. It was all fake.

Your attendant could not stop royalty if she wished. Not even if it was against the rules for an ill-mannered debutante. Yet Sae bit his tongue, stilled at the door.

And she was giving you a choice. It weighed on you. Desire or discipline.

Your fingers slid into his, tugging softly before turning to her. "A word, Madame. Only a word."

You pushed your index to your lips—a vow of silence—and rushed up the stairs.

"Haven't you done enough?" you quipped, fingers tugging on his. "An unprompted entrance to my family's estate. Looking like that!"

Your cheeks burnt a faint shade of pink, hiding away as you led him up the stairs.

"I— I haven't been honest with myself."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Everyone can see but you."

Your fingers twitched against his gloved ones, a thought lingering in your head—one of sweetness, guiding Sae through a lush garden and interlacing hands with his.

You let go, halting at your bedchamber's hallway. "It does not matter, anyway. Speak."

"I..." Sae paused. "Would you look at me?"

"How can I?" you bit your inner cheek, your hands curling into fists.

His fingers reached for yours, his voice softening a fraction. "Just one look."

Within unhurried seconds, you turned to him, hand flinching.

Sae looked utterly uneased. It almost made you laugh.

"Do not marry him."

"What?"

"Do not marry him."

"You were the one begging me to marry the Duke."

"That is because I thought—" He paused, swallowing thickly. "I thought he was better for you."

"I do not belong to you. You cannot auction me off to the nearest man when you deem me inconvenient. And you cannot just demand me back—"

"I do not wish to own you," he cut through. "I do not own you. This is simply the consequence of my own foolish actions."

"I have mistaken my desire for you. I thought desire was just desire. That it could go away once..." Sae paused, a gloved hand running through his light hair. "You find someone that will make you happy."

You ground your teeth against each other slowly.

How audacious.

"And you believe you can make me happy?"

"I want to."

"You do not know anything. You did not even ask me. Because I am getting what I wanted from the beginning. I am going to be a duchess!"

You stomped, huffing as you turned away.

"...Is that truly what you want?"

Your head pounded in your chest as Sae whispered the words. The same words you had whispered to him when he turned away from you. It was hypocritical. It was ever so daring!

But it was raw. It was ever so raw coming from him.

"What do you think it is that I want, Sae? Is it status? An easy, loveless marriage? To raise a family that I do not know?"

You stepped closer, heaving as your breath mingled with his. "What do you think I want?"

"I know you want..." He leaned closer, swallowing thickly. "Intelligence. A man with his own two feet. And..."

"Do you think I want you?"

He paused as you repeated. "Do you think I want you, Sae?"

You were provoking him. Testing his limits with the spar of your voice. It was maddening to see him in such a state, hidden away from the rest of the ton, only for your eyes. Only for your touch.

It was only a matter of time before he yelled.

A searing fire within your heart wished to see him in such a state.

"You are a liar and a fraud of a man," you said. "And I do not want to hear such foolishness in my estate—"

Sae dropped to his knees, chin tilted to the floor.

"Forgive me."

His fingers trembled at your feet. "I do not know where to begin... yet I hope you find it in your gentle heart to forgive me."

"Sae, you must get up." A flush crept up your neck as your fingers hovered near his head. "You're embarrassing yourself—"

His hand caught yours, pressing his cool lips to the warmth of your palm. "Forgive me. Forgive me, for I am at your mercy... And I will do whatever it takes to win you back."

His lips continued tracing a fiery path in your palm, twisting your stomach into knots.

"Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me..." he whispered, the hushed words melting into your skin.

God, what was he doing?

No one had ever begged for you before, let alone a prince. It was frightening—maddening, almost. And remnants of mercy fluttered into your chest.

What was it? Pity?

"Please..." His eyelids fluttered shut, his cheek nuzzling into the warmth of your palm.

"What has gotten into you?" You stammered, head spinning. "Give me— Give me some time—"

"Do you know how I realised what it is I feel for you?"

You paused, swallowing thickly. "N-No."

"My heart, it... it wants to jump out of my chest when I am near you. It aches and burns—and I feel how hard I'm breathing and I realise—"

He panted softly, breath fanning your skin. "I am alive. I am alive and I love you."

You paused, almost winced at the words.

Love? Love was what he was admitting right now?

Love did not scare you. It did not even do so much as evoke a laugh. But the words seeped deep into your skin, right into your blood and pumped into the veins leading to your heart.

Your heart, yes, it could jump out at any moment.

Did you love Sae?

"I love you so much that I cannot breathe when I am near you, but when we are apart, I find it far worse. So do not marry Bunny. His heart does not ache like mine does. His breath does not hitch at your presence. And—"

He hid his face in your palm. "You did not save him like you saved me."

Your heart clenched.

"Sae," your thumb rubbed slow circles on his cheek. "I do not..."

His lips continued their path along your palm, trembling against your skin. "You have already saved me once, so please save me once more."

"My saviour."

His wet lashes fluttered against your skin.

"My hero."

He squeezed tighter.

"My love."

He pressed a final kiss to your palm.

Silence echoed in the hallway of your estate. Sae leaned on you gently, like you were fragile. It was almost humorous, really, because he was.

Your breath hitched, fingers shakily reaching to cup his damp cheeks. "Sae, do not cry."

Your lips trembled, thumbs stroking his tears away.

"I love you too."

You barely make it to your bedchamber with Sae pressed against you.

Whatever magical feeling the romance novels claimed kissing to be—they had been right—it was a burning sensation that curled down your spine and between your legs.

Sae licked a soft stripe up the seam of your lips, lashes batting against your own. "You're doing good… just part your lips f'me, hm?"

You whined softly as Sae's tongue swiped across yours, thumbs stroking your jaw—brushing across your pulse.

Your head hit the wall as you leaned back, pressing into your bedchamber's wall.

"You sure know how to kiss, hm? Where'd you learn that? Did Bunny teach you?" His voice shook slightly, hands squeezing you a fraction tighter.

You mewled, your fingers wrapped around his wrists. "No, why would he—"

"Fuck." He leaned close, lips searing over yours. "You're right, why would he? C'mere. Don't let go."

His hands slid from your jaw to the underside of your thighs, pressing you against the wall. Your eyes squeezed shut as he carried you with no strain, arms loosely wrapping around his shoulders.

His lips traced down the column of your neck. "Aren't you perfect?"

He pressed a wet kiss on the juncture of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the spot.

"Oh my god, Sae— That feels—"

"Good?"

His eyes were hooded as he sucked your skin into his mouth, bruising it. "Mm..."

A tingle rushed down your chest as his teeth grazed your neck—slow enough to keep you guessing, yet deep enough to keep you squirming.

Your head gently hit the wall, throwing back in the weird, shivery feeling.

“Keep going,” you panted. “Oh. Sae…”

His tongue licked a stripe down your collarbone, gloved fingers fumbling with your chest piece. Hands cupping over your breast, he let out a low whine into your chest as he squeezed tenderly—almost reverently.

“Can I—” he huffed, hooded eyes gleaming under the glow of the lamp. “Can I take this off?”

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw, your lips pressing a messy kiss to his cheek. “Undress me, Sae.”

Your lips trailed down his jaw down to the column of his neck, teeth sinking into the supple skin as his shaky hands tugged the fabric of your dress down. “Wanna feel you everywhere.”

He pulled away, lips twitching as his cerulean eyes raked over your exposed chest.

“Everywhere, hm?” Sae whispered, his teeth pinching the tip of his glove off. “All mine?”

The words melted into your brain—too hazy to think properly. Act properly.

“All yours.”

You whined as he buried his face in your chest, his cheek nuzzling the soft fat. “Mine.”

His lips latched onto your sensitive skin, his tongue and teeth tracing a pattern along your breasts.

You were on fire. You were on fire, and it seared the ache between your legs.

Sae let out a low gasp, mouth sealing a kiss around a tightened nipple. “All mine.”

His tongue licked up the bud before swirling his tongue around, groaning softly into your chest, which you could only describe as a chant so bewildering and wanton.

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

It was truly obsessive. So obsessive that you could melt right here.

You arched into him, your eyes squeezing shut. “S-Sae!”

"Sh—shh," he hummed, tongue flattening over the tender bud. “Tell me if s’too much.

His cheeks hollowed as he sucked fervently, a jolt of lightning rushing into your bones. Too much was a request. Too much was an understatement.

“T-Too much s’not enough!”

You craned your head back as he flicked his tongue over the bud again and again, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Wanna bite you,” he whispered, his hand squeezing your untouched breast. “Wanna kiss you.”

His fingers brushed over your untouched nipple as he murmured the words, thumb and forefinger pinching the stiffened bud, the pressure increasing with each blissful second.

You panted, your chest huffing up and down.

“Do you want to— Do you want to do that thing people do when they love each other?”

Your gaze fleeted to Sae’s, unhurried and panting, your words hanging thick in the air.

“I—”

He paused, his ears reddening.

“Are you certain?”

Your cheeks flushed, your lips pursing into a frown. You were not just certain; you were almost begging.

You could beg. You could, yet—

Sae dropped to his knees, his hand cupping your own. “I won’t disappoint you, princess.”

His lips pressed to the warmth of your palm—slow and chaste—like when he formerly pleaded for your affection. Only this time, his low-lidded gaze was locked onto yours, and the heat of his tongue seared your skin, licking a stripe up your palm.

“Wanna taste you,” he whispered, fingers wrapping yours as he pressed his lips to your tips. “Wanna feel you shake against me.”

His other hand traced up your bare calf, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “May I, Your Highness?”

Sae’s head tilted, his eyes gleaming in a quiet mischief.

Your breath caught in your throat, your trembling fingers etched into the frills of your dress as you hiked it up. “You… You may.”

His fingers wrapped around your ankle, delicately raising your calf to his lips as he pressed wet, messy kisses up your skin.

“Mm…” His tongue licked a stripe up your calf, his lashes batting against your skin.

“J-Just—” You paused, your cheeks flushing. “Is it unrefined if I ask a question?”

“Are you my prisoner?” He quirked a brow, cheek nuzzling your thigh as he hiked your leg over his shoulder. “No. Go on.”

A flush crept up your neck, your fingers pressed over his shoulders. “W-Why are you down there? On your knees.”

He paused, his eyes darting to your covered mound. “I said I wanted to taste you.”

“That’s what you meant by tasting?!”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t desire,” he whispered, his hand smoothing over your outer thigh. “But from what m’seeing, you’re soaked.”

Suddenly, your brain only registered that Sae was inches away from your bare mound under your chemise.

“That is—” You gasped as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

“So pretty, right?” His lips traced a path along the sensitive skin. “Could just eat you up.”

The back of your hand pressed to your lips as his head dipped between your thighs, disappearing under the weight of your dress.

He was everywhere. Everywhere yet nowhere to be found as he licked a stripe up your cunt.

“S-Sae!” You mewled, your hand steadying at his covered head.

“Fuuuck,” he drawled, his tongue stroking a particularly sensitive spot that twitched and poked out.

You were too sensitive. Too twitchy to even think straight.

“S-Sae, oh my—” You tried to squeeze your thighs shut, moaning when he pressed them apart. “Too much!”

“Too much?” He panted against your wet heat, his lips pressing to your inner thigh. “Thought you said s’not enough.”

Not enough. Not enough, but he was too close, breath mingling with your cunt. You huffed, biting back another moan as he buried his face between your thighs—mouth hovering over your sticky mound.

“Go slow,” you squirmed. “S’a lot.”

His lips curved into a smile over your mound, his tongue running a slow, agonising stripe from your hole to the twitchy spot.

“Slow and gentle are two different things,” he huffed, his tongue swirling around the aching bud. “Fuck.”

You gasped, your hips squirming from his face as his lips wrapped around the spot. “S-Sae! What is that?”

“Your clit,” he murmured into your heat, the vibrations sending tremors into a building fire in your lower stomach. “It’s poking out.”

Your head threw back, the heel of your foot digging into his back as he slurped your clit into his mouth, tongue lashing up and down the sensitive bud. You were so sensitive that you could die pressed up against this wall. So sensitive that you could not stand—

“You’re shaking,” Sae heaved, pressing a wet kiss to your aching clit. “C’mere.”

His other arm hooked under the leg you were standing on, hiking it over his shoulder so you were completely and utterly pressed against the wall to his mercy—to his face buried between your thighs.

“Sae!” You moaned as his tongue began to lap at your folds, running along your labia before diving for your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud to suck fervently.

Your fingers dug into your dress as he sucked, obscene wet noises filling your bedchamber. You could not close your legs if you willed, and the pressure building had been so intense that you could burn right here, but your hips bucked into his face, chasing his wet kisses.

“M’gonna die!” You mewled as he slurped your clit into his mouth so hard his cheeks hollowed out.

“You’re not gonna die,” he whispered, sloppily kissing your cunt into his mouth, slurping your juices. “You’re gonna cum. And that’s normal, hm?”

You whined as he seared his mouth over your cunt, his tongue lashing out at your poor, soaked folds.

“Mm,” the vibrations pressed to your clit sent tremours to the ache in your stomach as he patted your outer thigh. “M’talking to you, hm?”

“C-Cum?” You murmured, your head dizzying. “M’gonna cum.”

“Not yet,” he groaned into your cunt, his chin dipping to lick at your twitchy hole. “Not done with you yet.”

His tongue stabbed into your hole, angling so that it lashed at a certain sensitive spot—sending tremors up your spine. It was rather intrusive, yet so divine at the same time. “Oh, Sae!”

Sae doubled down, burying his face so deep between your thighs like he wished to die in your cunt. Your head only continued to spin, your thighs trembling as he never relented, only licking up at the sweet spot. “I-I…” You gasped, an airy whine tearing from your throat. “I can’t!”

“Shh,” he huffed into your cunt, pressing his face impossibly deeper. “Fuuuck.”

Sae’s tongue pressed as deep as it could into your cunt—well, as deep as he could continue breathing with your thighs clamped onto his head. “M’gonna cum!” His jaw slacked, his tongue snaking out of your hole to slowly lick up your folds. “Gonna cum? Just from this?”

“Mhm! M’gonna… Ah…”

His tongue swirled all the way back to your clit, lashing up and down and planting sloppy kisses on the bud; his fingers meshed so deep in the flesh of your thighs. “Haah, aren’t you dirty?”

Your head lolled to the side, your breath catching just in time to answer. “W-What?”

Sae slurped your clit into his mouth momentarily, just to feel you thrash before sputtering against your folds. “I-I always thought you were the slutty kind, but I didn’t think you were this bad.”

Your brows furrowed against the sweat beading at your temples. “W-What kind of prince are you—”

He softly nipped at your clit, harshly licking the bud.

“Sae!”

You panted, your thighs quivering as you steadied yourself against the wall.

“Gonna cum, right?” He gasped, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your clit. “Cum. I’ll be right there with you.”

Your thighs trembled in his holds, his hands soothing you with soft squeezes to your ass. The fire burnt too much—too long—and you were going to explode at any second.

His lips wrapped around your bud once last time, fingers snaking to your cunt, where his middle finger inched in.

Your eyes blew open as he inserted a digit into your aching hole, your fingers digging into your dress. It was so deep and reached parts you never knew existed, his finger curling into a sweet, burning spot.

And Sae slurped your clit into his mouth one last time—hard.

“S’good!” You managed to mewl out, your hips bucking into his mouth. “Sae!”

Something euphoric gushed out of you onto Sae’s face, which was soiled from your slick and his spit. Still, he shoved his face deeper into your cunt, his tongue lashing at your folds as your hips continue to buck.

It was so utterly blissful. He was so utterly blissful.

After your hips bucked into his face, your breathing slowed and his tongue became scorching hot, dragging all over your folds.

Your eyes blew open. “S-Sae, enough.”

He whined into your cunt before pulling away, his damp forehead pressing against your thigh. “Too much?”

You hummed, patting your dress. “Mhm. May I see you?”

Silence cut through the air.

“—You may not,” he said, muffled under your dress.

“Why?” You giggled. “I want to see you.”

You were already rolling the hem of your dress up before he muttered. “I’m a mess.”

Your eyes widened as you lifted your dress, seeing Sae’s face covered in fluids. Covered, as in soiled. “You certainly look like one.”

Your fingers inched towards his ivory skin, gleaming under the candles in your room. “You’re beautiful, Sae.”

You softly cupped his cheek. He leaned into your palm, cheek nuzzling the skin as he remained on his knees. “You think so?”

“You’re beautiful.” Your thumb swiped at the slick under his eye before giggling. “How does such a thing get here?”

“How can you be so relaxed after making a mess in my mouth?”

You snorted. “How can you be so confident after kneeling for a mere lady?”

“You’re no mere lady. You’re going to be a princess.” He leaned into you, shuffling to his feet as he pressed his lips to yours. “Hm?”

“Mhm,” you giggled, your fingers clenching into his dress shirt. “A princess.”

Sae caught your lips again, his soaked tongue flicking over yours before pulling away. “You do not understand the weight of my words, don’t you?”

His eyes glimmered in amusement as you snickered. “No, no, of course I do. I am going to be… a princess.”

The words died on your tongue as he leaned in close, his breath brushing against your cheek. “And what do princesses do, hm?”

He set you on your feet, gripping your hips as he whispered.

“They turn around.”

You were spun to face the wall in a matter of seconds, your hands steadying on the wood. Sae’s hands were clasped over your hips, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your dress.

His breath ghosted the shell of your ear. “Do you remember that night in the carriage?”

You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. “What about it?”

“Did you listen to me?” His nose brushed your neck, his defined arms wrapping tight around your waist. “Did you touch yourself?”

“Those kinds of desires—” A flush crept up your neck as his lips pressed a wet kiss to your throat. “I did not.”

The thought lingered in your head at night, your hand creeping to your mound. Yet you could not—you would not do something so dirty. At least not without guidance.

His lips curved into a smile against you. “Would you like to?”

“Sae,” you called out as he nipped at your skin. “Are you teasing me? No, I want to do it.”

Your finger softly dug into his cheeks as he continued to mouth at your neck like some kind of dog. “Did you hear me? I want to do it.”

“I heard you." His teeth grazed the tips of your fingers. “Do you think you’re ready for that kind of thing?”

“Yes! I’m aching, Sae," you huffed. “I’m aching, and it’s your fault.”

You weren’t lying, not at all. Even though you had just came, the heat returned between your legs and throbbed incessantly. It was maddening—an ailment only he could cure.

“Oh no,” Sae said, almost mockingly. “What are we going to do about that?”

Your ears reddened as his lashes fluttered against your damp skin. “Do that thing where you— Where you put your—”

His fingers trailed from your waist to your lower stomach, rubbing soft, slow circles on the warmth.

“But you have to learn, princess." His chin hooked over your shoulder, his cerulean eyes glimmering softly under the candlelight. “So you don’t get hurt.”

Your breath hitched—his arm was hooked tight around your waist, his bicep flexing with each breath, and his hand trailing to your cunt. “S-Sae…”

“Lift your dress,” he said lowly.

Your trembling fingers clutched into the hem of the fabric and lifted, the frills snaking up your thighs.

“Good,” he pressed lips to the juncture of your neck. “Keep it lifted.”

Sae’s cold fingers brushed over your mound, the tips of his middle and ring fingers collecting your slick between your folds.

“Mm—” Your head lolled to the side, your temple pressing against his cheek.

“Relax,” he said, angling his middle finger to slowly inch inside of you again. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Your hips bucked into his as he slipped his finger into your heat, your hole clenching around the intrusion. “Sae…”

Your breath was hot against his, your gaze catching his hooded one as his lips seared over yours, his hot tongue slipping into your mouth. His hand around your waist snaked over your breast, giving a soft, reverent squeeze.

You whined into his mouth as his ring finger pressed against your entrance, slowly testing itself to stretch your hole around his digits. “Sae!”

“Does it hurt?” he rasped, his tongue licking the seam of your bottom lip. “Tell me.”

You mewled as he inched in slower, your hole twitching softly. “A-A little.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Keep going.”

“Want me to slow down?”

You huffed. “No! I-I said keep going—”

A moan escaped your lips as his knuckles hit your folds, his digits inserted so deep that you could feel every single twitch. “Oh, Sae!”

He let you accommodate the stretch as the tips of his fingers curled into your sweet spot, leaving you breathless. “Gotta learn how to touch yourself, princess.”

Sae’s lips sucked onto a spot on your neck, his thumb flicking to rub tight circles over your swollen clit. “For when I’m not around, but I’m sure that won’t happen.”

Your hole clenched tighter as his fingers began to slowly withdraw, pushing inside your tight heat as he thumbed your clit. “Hngh, Sae!”

“Right?” He leaned in close, panting as his lips pressed against your ear. “Gonna be a princess— My princess, right?”

Your head began to spin as he pistoned his fingers in and out, curling into your cunt before his thumb meanly pressed onto your clit. “Are you listening?”

“I’ll be your—” you moaned sweetly, your temple nudging his chin. “I’ll be your princess, Sae. Wanna cum…”

Sae’s digits stilled for a second, his gaze darkening. “You want to cum, hm?”

His index pressed against your entrance, slowly nudging inside. Your eyes flew open at the stretch, thighs clamping down on his hand as he squeezed you tighter.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, the tip of his index stilling at your entrance. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, no.” Your fingers snaked around his wrist, gripping tight. “I want more.”

He released a shaky huff of air against the shell of your ear, his arm adjusting his hold on you. “You have to hold still… and moooove.”

Sae propped you up so your hands pressed against the wall, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your ear—shooting sensations all the way down to your wet heat.

His index nudged at your entrance again, slowly pushing inside. Your eyes squeezed shut, going limp in his hold, whining at the stretch.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, sweetheart.” He cooed, pressing wet kisses to your cheeks. “Tell me if it hurts. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb rubbed sticky, soothing circles on your aching clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves, gasping lowly when you twitched and whined.

And soon, you loosened up to clench around three of his digits, your jaw slack and drool pooling at your mouth. “S-Sae, move.”

“Don’t just take it,” he whispered, his fingers curling to meet your sweet spot. “Move your hips too.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your chin tilting to watch his fingers dip between your legs, covered in slick and spit. “Mm…”

Sae’s hand slowly squeezed your breast, thumbing at your tightened nipple from under your dress. “C’mon, don’t be so shy. Use me.”

Slowly, you began to rock your hips against his palm, each movement hitting another ridge inside you. His breath hitched as his thumb continued rubbing sticky figure eights on your clit, his bicep clutching you tighter. It felt so, so good to ride his fingers—to use him for your heart’s desires.

“Sae,” you moaned sweetly, your nose brushing his. “Sae.” Within aching seconds, his lips met yours, tongue flicking to rub the roof of your mouth. Something sticky and hot was building in your lower stomach, the same kind that gushed all over Sae’s face.

“M’close,” you whispered against his lips, licking the seam of his. “So close.”

“W-Wait,” he breathed out, his trembling fingers withdrawing from your dripping hole. The action left you wet and throbbing for release, your hand squeezing his.

“What? Why would you—”

His breeches pressed into your ass as something hard and throbbing poked you. Something that made your stomach churn and your chest flutter. Something that made you clench around nothing.

“Can we?” He whispered, his arms hugging you tight.

You slowly rocked your hips against his, trapping yourself between him and the wall. “Mhm.”

Sae reached to fumble with his belt, his hands tugging down his pants to release the ache between his legs.

The twitching ache.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, that’s… Is that going inside of me?”

His head threw back in release—well, the lack thereof; his cock was spasming as fluids perled at the tip. “Yes. I… I promise it doesn’t hurt.”

Your eyes zeroed in on his flushed face, his hairline damp with sweat. “You promise?”

“It may,” he corrected, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “But I’ll be with you. Please you through it.”

Your breath hitched as his cock nudged your thigh, twitching as it met your soft skin. “...Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Put it in.”

“Mm…”

Sae’s hands found your hips, holding you close against the wall. His body pressed onto yours, his chin hooking over your shoulder. “You trust me?”

“P-Put it in, Sae.”

He whined softly, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hand reached to stroke the base of his cock a few, sticky times, before nudging the tip to your entrance.

It was more than his fingers, but it throbbed so prettily that he had to make haste.

Sae’s fingers dug into your ass cheeks, nails indenting in the plush fat. “I’m putting it in, hm? Tell me— T-Tell me everything you feel.”

The head of his cock slowly nudged your entrance, inching its way inside. Every vein and the stretch of his length sent tremors to your cunt, reeling in both a feeling of pain and ecstasy.

Your cunt grew unbearably hot, your jaw slacking. “Sae!”

“Fuck, fuck.” He gasped, gripping you tighter as he eased into you. “Stop moving.”

Yet your hips stammered on their own, your cunt fluttering around him. “S-Sae!”

“S-Stop,” he grunted, whining as he bit his inner cheek. “M’trying to go slow…”

“S’good!”

“S-So good?”

“Mhm— Think m’gonna cum?”

His fingers dug into your ass cheeks harder. “N-No, you’re not.”

Sae’s length bottomed out inside you, panting as his hips pressed flush against yours. His teeth bared slowly, grazing the skin of your shoulder as he groaned. “Fuck…”

Slowly, he pressed his weight further on you, his meaty bicep moving to softly wrap around your neck. Some kind of headlock one would usually only perform on other knights.

You were not a knight, but the squeeze of muscle around you made your cunt flutter around him. “You’re making me lose focus…” he huffed out, moving his other arm to wrap tightly around your waist.

“Sae,” you mewled, your fingers digging into his forearm. “Harder.”

He whined against your shoulder, hips snapping into yours at a rough, brain-melting pace. The ramming of his hips sent sparks of fire up your spine, his arm clenched around your waist steadying you against him.

His arm squeezed tighter around your neck, his lips brushing your cheek. “Open, princess.”

Your gaze was low-lidded and hazy as you turned to meet his lips, his trembling fingers reaching to cup your jaw towards him.

Spit.

You whined into his mouth, your lips searing over his own as your tongue swept over his.

“Hold it,” he panted against your mouth, his hand around your waist snaking down between your legs, his index and middle rubbing sticky circles over your clit.

You were clenched around him tight, your eyes squeezing shut. You were close—so close, your cunt fluttering around him as a white ring of cum fluttered at the base.

“Gonna cum, Sae,” you mewled against his mouth as he tapped your clit. “Gonna cum.”

“Fuck, haah— Cum, I’m right here.” He heaved, his arms squeezing around you tight, holding you so close you could feel his thudding heart beat against you.

Sae buried his face in your shoulder, his magenta locks damp against your skin. “I love you.”

The words melted into your dizzying head, his words of affection.

“I love you,” Sae whispered again.

You rocked your hips against the slam of his, heaving. “I love you too.”

His teeth bared to graze the skin of your shoulder before gently biting down, his fingers rubbing fast strokes on your puffy clit as you clenched again.

The fire would not stop. It would burn and burn and take you down. Yet you held him close, his damp hair, his beating heart, and his honeyed words.

And his cock rammed into your sweet spot once more, earnestly enough to bruise the spot, as you squeezed him tight and let go all at once.

Your brain melted as your hips bucked against his, your fingers digging into his forearm as his hips into yours—slower this time—steadier.

Sae pressed wet kisses to your temple, a few to your cheek, and one burning kiss to your lips. He withdrew his aching cock and pumped it a few times with his fist, whining as a warm sensation spilled over your ass cheeks.

You panted against the wall as he released his iron grip on you. Your hair was a mess—so was his, certainly. And your slick and his were everywhere.

A mess it was. It was a mess.

“Did I hurt you?” He stroked your hair, patting the messy locks down. “Still with me?”

“Mhm…” you hummed, your legs a trembling mess.

“C’mere.”

Sae spun you around and hoisted you from the undersides of your thighs, pressing you gently against the wall. “Talk to me. Are you alright?”

His eyes were soft, concerned, and hazy. You giggled softly, your arms slinging around his neck. “I’m quite alright, Sae.”

“Mm…” His lips pressed to your chest, trailing ticklish kisses up to your jaw. “You scared me, princess.”

Your fingers ran up his neck to tangle in his magenta locks, laughing against him. “Let’s do it again, prince.”

He hummed against your neck, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your thighs. “Again? Eager after all that?”

“You’re carrying me. It’ll be far easier." You frowned, catching his lips in a chaste kiss.

He nuzzles into your neck. “Anything the princess wishes for, I’ll grant.”

“Anything?” You asked, your brows perking up.

“Anything.”

“Will you marry me?”

A flush crept up his neck as he stilled against you. “Why are you asking me that? That’s my job.”

“Will you marry me, Sae?” You giggled.

“Shall you ask me in such a compromising situation? Yes, I will marry you.”

“Then can we go again? And again, and again…” You trailed off, your hands cupping his damp cheeks.

He sighed, a sigh you were ever so familiar with.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

To my dearest nephew,

Do you take me for a fool? Why have you forsaken me after everything I have done for you? You are not a man who covets love, so why must you meddle in the affairs of the marriage mart, especially between a duke and his lady that I have arranged?

I do not like to be wrong. You are to explain yourself at once.

Your vexed Aunt,

Queen Charlotte.

Your Majesty,

It is true that I have never been the one for the matters of the heart, yet I find myself humbled in the presence of a bride. I offer my sincerest apologies to the Duke, for it has never been in my nature to falter nor to lack haste when it comes to desire. Yet she is not only a desire; she is a medium of life that I breathe. Over and over until all the air has escaped my lungs and I am rendered a brainless, hopeless fool, a man undone by his own devotion.

I have never quite enjoyed conversation, yet I find myself speaking and speaking to hear her laughter and the remarks she may bring forth.

Your Majesty is never wrong, and I have forsaken you, and I yield. Sire, I yield. Yet I implore you to understand: if an angel held your heart at her mercy, with her choice to restore or ruin you, you too would allow her to govern. I am not within my proper senses, and I do not wish to be.

Nonetheless, I remain.

I remain.

I remain in her presence for life, and though my senses have failed me, I shall also remain your most obedient servant.

Your lovesick nephew,

Sae.

˚˖ִ໋ A/N: Dearest gentle reader, I am so unbelievably fucked after writing this. It feels like my brain and soul were sucked through a vacuum into a grandma's asshole. I hope you guys enjoyed this! Thank you sososososososo much @illuminha for beta reading and making the art for this fic. I LOVE YOU WE ALL LOVE YOU GO SUPPORT HER SHES AN AMAZING ARTIST AND WRITER. Also, I had to condense some of the paragraphs for the block limit's sake. If you want to read the original context, my Ao3 is always up! Anyways... goodbye my lovelies!

pyroami 2026

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