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White Cloak - Part 2

The princess corners the Kingsguard during a night garden walk and confesses. That same night he slips into her chambers.

Pairings: Ser Donnel of Duskendale x Targaryen Princess!Reader

Warnings: kingsguard vows vs. temptation; age gap; smut (PIV, oral, loss of virginity); forbidden romance; light angst and guilt; my first fic in a while; not beta-read

Words: 6,5k

Part 1

Author’s note: Well, so I actually wrote the second part… and it was kind of a fever dream, not gonna lie. This man still lives rent-free in my head, but now I’ve gone and dragged him (and myself) straight into sin. I’ve never written smut before, only read a ridiculous amount of it, so I have zero idea if this turned out hot, awkward, or if I should just delete my entire account and vanish into the woods forever 😂 On the bright side, I’m now itching to write a Maekar or Baelor fic next, so someone please stop me. Thank you so much to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part!

You followed Ser Roland Crakehall into the hallway and for a few steps neither of you spoke. The sounds of the castle drifted through the cold stone halls. The distant footsteps and muffled voices somewhere far below made the castle feel alive even at such a late hour as this. Ser Roland walked at an easy pace beside you, his armour making faint metallic shifts with each step.

You had just begun to hope he might keep his silence when he let out a low, amused chuckle.

“That was certainly a sight I did not expect to stumble upon tonight.” he said at last, glancing sideways at you.

You kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead.

“We were just speaking,” you said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“So you said.”

There was another short pause.

“And yet,” he continued with his voice kept low, “I have been a knight of the Kingsguard for quite some time, Princess. I do believe I know the difference between speaking and whatever that was.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck and you folded your hands together in front of you, doing your best to regain some measure of your dignity.

“I assure you,” you said carefully, “nothing improper occurred.”

Ser Roland hummed thoughtfully.

“I should hope not.” he said but did not sound particularly convinced.

You turned a corner, the torches along the wall casted long shadows across the stone. When you risked a glance at him, you found him watching you with a look that was far too knowing for your comfort.

“You need not look so alarmed,” he added after a moment, his tone almost friendly now. “I don’t intend to make trouble of it. Ser Donnel is my friend.”

“That is… reassuring,” you said stiffly.

Another few steps passed before he spoke again.

“Donnel always was the serious sort,” Roland mused. “Never thought I’d see the day a princess had him perched on the edge of a daybed like a boy who’d forgotten his manners.”

You stopped walking and looked around concerned that someone might hear him. Ser Roland halted a pace ahead before turning back toward you, way too calmly for your liking.

“I did no such thing,” you whisper tightly, lifting your chin.

“Gods, don’t look so horrified. You are hardly the first young lady to take an interest in a handsome knight.”

You felt your face grow warmer and for a moment you considered denying it again, but the knowing look on his face made the effort seem entirely pointless. Instead, you exhaled quietly and resumed walking.

“But I should warn you,” Roland went on after a moment, though his tone had softened somewhat, “the Kingsguard live very closely together. We notice things.”

Your stomach tightened slightly at the implication, and you could not reply.

“Princess, if you value that man’s position and life,” he said evenly, “you will take care not to place him in such a position again.”

Your gaze drifted briefly to the floor. The memory of Donnel rising so abruptly from the daybed returned to you. The tension in his shoulders and the way he could not quite met your eyes.

“I understand,” you said.

Ser Roland studied you for a moment longer before nodding once. “Good.”

You had reached the door to your father’s chambers and Ser Roland gestured lightly toward the door.

“Your father seems to have cooled his temper.”

“He usually does that” you murmured to which Roland snorted softly.

You allowed yourself the faintest smile before stepping inside.

Prince Baelor stood near the hearth when you entered. He turned as the door closed behind you, his expression far calmer than it had been earlier that evening.

“My daughter,” he said with a sigh after a moment, rubbing a hand across his brow. “I may have been… overly harsh with you earlier.” His mouth twitched faintly.

The words were not quite an apology, but they were close enough that you inclined your head slightly.

“I only wished to see the city,” you said.

“I know.” he studied you for a moment before continuing. “But you must understand,” he said more seriously. “It's not like when you are wandering the gardens. Every action of yours reflects upon our house and more importantly you dear.”

Your earlier embarrassment returned with an uncomfortable force.

“I am aware of that, Father.”

“I hope so,” his gaze softening just slightly as he placed a hand on your shoulder reassuringly “because there will soon be discussions regarding your future. Alliances. Marriage.”

Your stomach sank faintly.

“You see why you must be careful.”

You nodded slowly “Yes, Father.”

The conversation did not last much longer after that.

Yet as you left his chambers and made your way back through the corridors of the Red Keep, you found your thoughts drifting back to the handsome Kingsguard who eased up beside you on your daybed while talking to you.

The days that followed were strangely quiet. Not in the castle itself, for the Red Keep was never truly quiet. The courtiers still laughed in the halls, the servants still hurried through corridors, and the bells of the sept still rang each morning as they always had.

But still something had changed, for Ser Donnel avoiding you.

At first you told yourself you were imagining it. It wasn’t uncommon for the Kingsguard to rotate their duties. It was perfectly normal that he was no longer stationed near your chambers. Perfectly reasonable that other white cloaks escorted your father or stood watch outside the council chamber.

Yet on the rare occasions your paths did cross, the difference was unmistakable. He bowed politely to greet you, as it was expected from them, but then he left as quickly as the situation allowed. There weren’t any lingering glances or restrained smiles. At least on his part, for you could not help but let your eyes follow him even as he passed by.

You should have been relieved, truly. But still, the absence of those small things left a hollow ache somewhere beneath your ribs. And it made you feel horribly selfish. Ser Rolland’s words kept ringing through your mind: “Princess, if you value that man’s position and life, you will take care not to place him in such a position again.”.

Still, you could not help but remember how easily Ser Donnel had spoken to you that night. How strikingly handsome he was. How the careful distance between you had slowly faded as he told stories of his childhood by the harbour. It felt so comfortable, more comfortable than anything had in quite some time.

And if these feelings weren’t already consuming you, your father’s words also returned to you more often than you cared to admit.

The discussions regarding your marriage had not yet begun in earnest, but they would soon enough. You had grown up in the Red Keep; you knew well how such matters unfolded. One day you would be informed, politely, perhaps even kindly, that you were to wed a lord you had likely never met. And though you had no doubt in your mind that your father would not let you marry someone who is unkind to you, but love had never been the purpose of such arrangements. You told yourself it did not matter. As a princess you were raised to understand this. Still, you couldn’t help your thoughts keep wandering back to Ser Donnel.

It was several nights later, after dinner had concluded and the court had begun to disperse, that the idea came to you.

Your father and brothers remained seated at the long table, speaking quietly with your grandfather while servants cleared away the last of the dishes. The hall had grown calmer now, the earlier noise of the meal fading into murmured conversations.

You hesitated for a moment before approaching him.

Prince Baelor glanced up at you. “Yes?”

You hesitated only briefly, before asking, “may I walk in the gardens for a little while?”

He studied you for a moment. The request was not particularly unusual, yet the hour was later than when one would typically wander the castle grounds.

“It is rather late,” he said.

“I know,” you admitted with a soft smile. “But the air inside the castle feels terribly close tonight.” That, at least, was not a lie.

“Very well. But you will not go alone.” he nodded and he already looked at your brother to ask him to accompany you, no doubt.

Your pulse quickened slightly.

“Of course not.” you answered quickly, “Perhaps Ser Donnel could accompany me.”

Baelor just nodded and turned toward the door to gestured to the white cloak standing guard beside it. For a moment you wondered if you had imagined the slight stiffening of the knight’s shoulders.

“Yes, my prince.” he asked as he come up to you two.

“My daughter insists on wandering the gardens at this late hour, will you accompany her?”

“As you command.” Donnel did not even look at you as he spoke.

Your father then returned his attention to the King as though the matter was already settled.

The night air outside was cool and pleasantly quiet. The gardens were empty at this hour. Only a few lanterns burned along the winding paths, casting warm pools of light across the walkways and flowers, casting long shadows across the maze of hedges.

For several minutes neither of you spoke. Ser Donnel walked half a pace behind you, as was proper. You could feel his presence even without turning. It was unbearable.

Then you finally stopped beside a low stone wall overlooking the darker stretch of garden.

“Are you going to avoid speaking to me forever?” The question slipped from you before you could reconsider it. Behind you, the soft sound of his shifting armour ceased as well.

“Princess…”

“No,” you said quietly, turning to face him. “Please do not pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

For a moment he said nothing.

Up close in the lantern light, the lines at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced than you remembered. He looked tired, but no less dashing.

“I have been behaving as I should have from the beginning,” he said at last and the calmness of his voice stung more than you expected.

A faint breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby trees as you clasped your hands together, trying to steady yourself.

“I know why you're trying so hard to keep your distance.”

His brow furrowed slightly at that.

“Ser Roland spoke to me that night.”

Donnel’s jaw tightened as he spoke “he should not have…”

“He was right,” you interrupted gently, your eyes searching for his. “You could lose everything because of me.” The words hung heavy in the cool night air. “I would never wish that,” you continued quietly and for the first time since leaving the castle, he finally looked directly at you.

“Then you must understand why this cannot continue.”

Your heart gave a small, painful thud.

“Yes,” you said taking a slow deep breath. “I understand that you are sworn to your vows. I understand that I am a princess and that my father will soon expect me to marry some lord whose name I have likely only heard in passing.”

A faint shadow passed across Donnel’s face at that, “That is the way of things.”

“Yes,” you repeated softly. “It is.”

You took a small step closer, not yet close enough to be improper, but enough that the distance between you suddenly felt very small, intimate almost.

“But knowing that does not make it any easier to pretend I feel nothing.”

He did not move.

“Princess…” his voice had grown quieter now weak even.

“I do not wish to place you in an impossible position,” you said. “Truly, I do not.” you hesitated for a moment. “But I cannot pretend that I have not thought of you.”

Your confession hung heavily between you. Then Donnel let out a slow breath, running a hand briefly across his jaw as though trying to collect himself.

“You should not say such things.”

“Why?” you asked.

He looked down at you then, and for the first time since you had entered the garden the careful distance in his expression began to crack.

“You are a Princess and you are still so young,” he said quietly.

“You are not that old,” you replied with a smile and more lightness in your voice that before, to which the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

You took another small step closer to him still. Close enough now that you could see the occasional grey hairs in roughness of his dark stubble. Enough that you could feel the warmth of him through the cool night air.

“You are sworn to the Kingsguard,” you continued quietly. “I know that. I would never ask you to break those vows against your own wants.”

His gaze searched your face.

“Then what are you asking?” the question was barely more than a whisper, like he was afraid of the answer.

You hesitated only a moment before answering.

“Nothing.” your voice soft and steady, “I simply wished you to know that before I am sent away to marry some stranger… there is at least one man I would have chosen myself.”

Something shifted in his expression then.

“Princess,” he said again, but this time it sounded more like a rough plea.

You reached up before you could lose your nerve, your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw. The contact seemed to freeze him in place. Your thumb traced his skin above the line of his beard, “I only wished to be honest.”

Then his hand closed gently around your wrist. Holding you there gently while his eyes searched your face. There were so many feelings passing through his face that you couldn’t quite decide what he was thinking.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned closer, so close that your breath could lightly brush against his skin. Then his restraint finally broke. He pulled you toward him the movement was sudden enough to steal the breath from your lungs, but somehow still incredibly gentle in the way he held your face.

After your lips met, for a heartbeat the world seemed to fall completely still. There were only him and your pounding pulse. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck, and the kiss deepened with a hunger that made it painfully clear just how much restraint had been holding him back.

For a moment the world seemed to narrow to nothing but the warmth of his mouth and the firm steadiness of his hands as he held you. Your fingers tightened in the front of his white cloak without you quite realizing it, pulling him closer. Then suddenly he broke the kiss, pulling away. Not far, only enough to look at you. His breath was uneven, and the conflict in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Gods,” he murmured under his breath.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture unusually restless for a man who normally held himself with such perfect control.

“You say that you understand why this not right. Because of my vows, your father and what people would say if they knew. What the consequences would be for the both of us” he holds your cheeks carefully again to make you look at him. “Then why continue?”

You hesitated, “because none of it changes how I feel.”

The garden lantern flickered softly near you, in that shifting light the strain in his expression seemed even more pronounced.

“You are young,” he said at last. “In a year, perhaps two, you will be married to some lord. You will forget this entirely.”

“I don’t think I will.”

His jaw tightened.

“You should.” he said as sternly as he could muster, but still his thumb lightly caressed your cheek.

“Perhaps,” you admitted leaning into his touch slightly. “But before that happens… before I am sent away to a man I did not choose…” You met his eyes again. “I wished to know what it felt like to choose someone myself.”

The words hung between you, then Donnel looked away first. For a long time, he said nothing, staring out into the dark garden as though searching for an answer there or perhaps waiting for some divine intervention to stop him. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer.

“You do not understand what you are asking of me.”

“I really do,” you said gently and it made him look back at you.

You could almost see the battle taking place behind his eyes, the weight of his vows, his duty, his honour even, all fighting against something far more human. Then he let out a long breath.

“You will regret this,” he said quietly.

“Will I?”

“Yes.”

“And will you?” the question seemed to strike him harder than anything else you had said and for several seconds he did not answer, then he exhaled slowly.

“Almost certainly.”

Despite everything, you smiled faintly.

“Well,” you said softly, “at least we will regret it together.”

That earned the smallest huff of breath from him, almost a laugh. Then his expression grew serious again.

“You will go to your chambers,” he said.

Your heart skipped.

“And you will not open that door for anyone else tonight.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he spoke. Your breath caught slightly.

“And you?” you asked.

He hesitated and that hesitation seemed to stretch endlessly. You could see the last of his restraint fighting to hold. Then finally he spoke, “I will follow shortly.”

Your pulse quickened immediately and you beamed a smile at him.

Then he stepped back again, restoring the careful distance that is expected of a Kingsguard.

“Return to the castle, Princess,” he said quietly nodding with his head.

You turned toward the path leading back toward the Red Keep, your heart pounding. When you glanced back once, he was still standing there beneath the lantern light, watching you.

Your chamber felt unusually quiet once you returned. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment, your heart still beating faster than it should. The room looked exactly as it had when you left it earlier that evening, candles now burning low, the fire in the hearth reduced to a soft glow, your cloak folded neatly across the chair beside the bed.

And yet everything felt different. You crossed slowly to the center of the room, smoothing your skirts more out of nervous habit than necessity.

He might not even come. The thought crept in despite everything he had said.

Ser Donnel had spent his entire life working to be in the Kingsguard. A man like that do not abandon his vows lightly. Even now he might be standing somewhere in the corridors of the Red Keep, reminding himself exactly why this was a terrible mistake.

Your hands folded together in front of you as you began pacing the length of the room. Perhaps you had asked too much of him, hells perhaps you had asked too much of yourself

You had just reached the window when there was a quiet knock at the door. Your breath caught and for a moment you did not move at all, but then you crossed the room quickly and pulled the door open.

Ser Donnel stood in the hallway. He had removed his helm, though the rest of his white armor remained. The torchlight from the corridor cast sharp shadows across his face, and for a moment neither of you spoke.

You then stepped aside to invite him in and he hesitated only briefly before entering. You closed the door softly behind him. For a few seconds the two of you simply stood there. The air between you felt thick with everything that had been left unsaid in the garden.

“You came,” you said quietly.

He gave a faint, almost humorless smile, “I nearly didn’t.”

That did not surprise you. Your eyes drifted briefly to the door again, “No one saw you?”

“No.” he reassured you as he stepped further into the room then, though there was still a careful tension in his posture, as though he had not quite decided whether he should stay. His gaze moved slowly across the chamber before returning to you.

“You still have time to change your mind,” he said.

Your brow lifted slightly, “You think I will?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “that you may wake tomorrow and realize you choose the wrong man.”

You studied him for a moment.

“I do not think so.” you said softly taking a step toward him.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying more nerves than you had ever seen from him before.

“Donnel,” you said gently, calling him by his name alone for the first time.

He looked at you in surprise. For a moment the tension in his face remained, but then something in his expression finally softened.

“If you do not want this, if you do not want me, that is alright,” you continued quietly. “Then I do not want it either.”

For a heartbeat he simply stared at you, then he let out a slow breath, as though releasing the last of his restraint.

“Of course I want you,” he said.

And when you kissed him again, the kiss was far more intense than before, no hesitation left in it now, as though he had finally allowed himself to be fully there with you for the first time.

Your hand slid up his chest, your fingers brushing over the cold metal of his armor as you kissed him. The hard plate beneath your palm felt oddly out of place between you.

After a moment you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him.

“I have heard that these armours are terribly heavy and uncomfortable,” you said with a soft giggle.

For a heartbeat he simply looked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching himself.

“Yes,” he said amused, “they are.”

You stepped back then, giving him a little space, and sank down onto the edge of your bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath your weight as you smoothed your skirts over your knees, watching him with open curiosity.

For a while he remained standing where he was, as though the reality of the situation had only just fully settled on him. Then he reached for the clasps at his shoulder. The first piece of armor came free with a faint metallic sound. He set it carefully aside on the nearby table before working at the straps across his chest.

You watched in silence as he removed the pieces one by one. Without the armour he seemed different somehow, less like the untouchable Kingsguard of the Red Keep and more like the man who had sat beside you on the daybed days before.

The candlelight flickered across the muscles in his arms as he loosened the last fastening and pulled the breastplate free. It landed with a quiet, heavy thud beside the others. He exhaled slowly, rolling one shoulder as though easing the weight that had rested there for hours.

Your gaze lingered on him perhaps a moment longer than was entirely proper.

“Better?” you asked softly.

Donnel glanced at you again, and whatever restraint he had managed to reclaim seemed to falter once more under the way you were looking at him.

“Yes,” he said, then after a brief pause, his voice lower now, “Much better.” as he stepped toward the bed.

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him. Then he leaned down and kissed you again.

This time it was slower at first, but no less intense. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer as you tilted your head up to meet him. Your fingers curled into the front of his tunic, pulling him nearer until he was standing between your knees at the edge of the bed.

The mattress shifted as he leaned down over you, the kiss deepening as though neither of you quite remembered how to stop. You were the first to move, your hands sliding up his shoulders as you drew him farter up with you onto the bed.

He caught himself quickly, one arm braced beside you so his full weight would not fall on you, but the movement brought him so close that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin.

His kisses moved from your lips to your cheeks; jaw then neck all the way down to your collarbone. Pampering you with soft wet kisses.

“Donnel,” you murmured.

His gaze searched your face again, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, but you did not. Instead, your fingers slid gently into his hair.

That seemed to break something in him. His mouth found yours again, the kiss deeper now, less careful than before. One of his hands moved from the mattress to your waist, steady and warm as it rested there.

Your breath caught slightly as his fingers traced along the fabric of your gown. Slowly, almost cautiously at first, his hand slipped lower, gathering the soft folds of the dress where it lay around your legs.

The movement made your heart pound. Then his hand slid beneath the fabric, guiding the dress higher. You felt the warmth of his breath along your neck as he pressed a lingering kiss there, the roughness of his stubble sending a shiver down your spine.

“Princess…” he murmured quietly, though the word no longer sounded like a warning.

Your fingers brushed through his hair as you tilted your head back slightly, giving him room as he trailed slow kisses downward.

His warm hand felt almost startlingly hot against your leg as he pushed the skirt of your dress slowly upward, the fabric gathering beneath his fingers. The movement sent a small shiver through you.

Very carefully, he sat back slightly, guiding you with him so you were upright on the bed once more. The hem of your dress still rested loosely over your knees where he had pushed it.

“Let me,” he said quietly. There was a strange gentleness in his voice now, so different from the composed knight who stood guard in the hall.

You nodded.

His hands moved to the laces at the back of your gown, working at them slowly, his fingers careful despite the slight tremor you could feel in them. One by one the tight knots loosened, the tension in the fabric easing with each pull. The dress slackened around your shoulders.

Then he slid the fabric gently off your arms, his hands brushing your skin as the gown slipped higher. The candlelight flickered softly across the room as he thrown the heavy cloth away, out of the way. Donnel’s gaze lingered on you, the careful composure he wore so easily nowhere to be found now.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered in awe as his gaze run over your whole body slowly taking you in.

You blushed deeply but couldn’t help but smile proudly at the compliment. You leaned forward instead of answering, your hand resting lightly against his chest and that was all he needed. He drew you back down onto the bed with him, kissing you again, slower this time but no less full of the feeling he had tried so hard to hold back.

Then his kisses started traveling down again, this time past your collar bone. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you watched him, your fingers threading through his silver-streaked hair, your heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and raw desire that you'd never dared to feel until tonight.

Donnel's hands roamed over your bare skin with reverence as he kissed the curve of your breasts, his mouth warm and insistent against your skin. You arched beneath him as his tongue flicked over your nipple, drawing a soft moan from your lips, and you felt the weight of his body pressing closer to you.

Your curiosity has only grown as he moved even lower, his kisses tracing a path down your stomach, your skin prickling with anticipation.

When he glanced up at you, the conflict in his eyes was unmistakable, but the look on your face and the way you bite your lips in anticipation pushed any remaining doubt out of his mind, as his mouth reached the soft curls between your thighs, you gasped at the intimate sensation, his breath teasing your most sensitive flesh.

The world narrowed to just you two, the slide of his tongue against your slick folds, the way your pussy throbbed with need, aching for more. Each lick sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Donnel” his name escaped your lips again and again. The breathless moans seemed to urge him on. He delved with increasing purpose, his tongue exploring the slick warmth of your pussy with skilful strokes, each movement filled with a desire to please you; to etch this moment into both of your memory’s and though his cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his breeches he fought to focus solely on your pleasure.

Your hips rose to meet him, your fingers tangling in the silk sheets as waves of sensation crashed over you, the rough stubble of his jaw grazed your inner thighs, only adding to the tension building within you.

As he circled your clit with insistent flicks, your body arched in response, a moan tearing from your throat that echoed softly off the chamber walls. Donnel's hands then slid up your sides, cupping the swell of your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples as he maintained his work, his breath hot against your folds.

With a final, deliberate press of his tongue, he sent you spiralling toward the edge your orgasm, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms.

His gaze, met yours, and even in the dim light of the chamber, you could see the raw hunger in his eyes, similar to your own yearning.

Slowly, he rose from between your thighs, his lips glistening with you, as he leaned over you, capturing your mouth in a deep, searing kiss. You wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against you through the thin fabric of his breeches. With trembling hands, you helped him shed the last barrier, your fingers fumbling at the ties as curiosity and a hint of nervousness coursed through you.

This was your first time after all, a threshold you were crossing with the man who had stolen your heart, rather than a man who you had wed, because your father said so.

Donnel paused as he sensed your nervousness, then he leaned in, whispering words of reassurance against your ear softly.

He positioned himself above you, his muscular frame over you as he guided his thick, throbbing cock to your slick entrance. The head of it brushed against your sensitive folds drawing a gasp from you.

Your heart raced with a blend of anticipation and trepidation, your body still humming from his earlier attentions, but as he slowly pressed forward, inch by inch, you felt the initial sting of stretching give way to an overwhelming rush of fullness that made you cling to him even tighter.

His movements were deliberate, controlled, one of his hands cradling your face as he whispered to you, his eyes locked on yours to gauge your comfort.

“You are doing so well” he whispered gently with a low gravelly voice.

The sensation of him filling you so completely was intoxicating, your pussy clenched around his shaft in rhythmic pulses.

Donnel's restraint finally began to fracture, his hips driving in to you with increasing speed and yet he always tempered it by the tenderness in his touch, his fingers returned to trace the curves of your breasts as if to memorize every detail of it.

“My princess," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear, thick with emotion, "this... this is more than I ever dared dream.”

You gasped as you lifted your hips to meet his, drawing him deeper with a boldness that surprised even you. "I am yours Donnel in every way that I can give," you replied, your voice soft but steady, as you ran your fingers along the corded muscles of his back.

His thrusts deepened, his thick cock sliding in and out of your slick with a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure radiating through you. Donnel's breath came in harsh, ragged pulls, his face buried in the curve of your neck, where he inhaled the scent of your skin.

As he picked up pace more, his hips driving forward with increasing urgency, you met each thrust with your own, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper, the fullness of his cock stretching you. And you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body trembled as he fought to hold on, wanting to draw out your pleasure until it consumed you both.

But it wasn’t much longer, till you cried out his name again, as the first wave of your peak crashed over you, your body convulsing around him with an intensity that shattered his last defences. He followed your bliss with a guttural groan escaping his lips as he thrusted one final time, his hot seed spilling deep inside you in powerful spurts that left him shuddering.

Your bodies were locked in a trembling embrace as he carefully lowered himself over you, his weight warm and solid, anchoring you both to the moment.

“Gods help us both,” he whispered, voice rough with everything he could no longer hide.

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