Chapter 15 #2
Finn’s lungs burned, air forgotten, as Cedric’s breath whispered against him.
A salty tear droplet slid between their pressed lips—Finn didn’t know if it was his own or Cedric’s, only that it tasted like grief.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, Finn didn’t let go.
He rested his forehead against Cedric’s. The prince trembled.
“I should…we should stop.”
“Why stop now?” Finn whispered back, a teasing lilt in his tone that couldn’t quite mask the desperation beneath. He offered a lopsided grin, a silent plea for Cedric to hold on as tightly as Finn was holding on to him. His thumb traced Cedric’s lower lip, still wet and reddened from their kiss.
Cedric made a soft, frustrated huff. “Even if it leads us both into trouble?”
Finn’s grin didn’t waver. “Especially then. I’m adventurous.” His laughter faded quickly, replaced by a vulnerability that stripped away the bravado. “Please, Cedric. Don’t push me away again. I can’t stand the thought of going back to that distance between us.”
Cedric’s lashes lifted, revealing eyes glassy with tears, gold-flecked irises churning like storm-wrecked seas. “Finn, I…I can’t,” Cedric choked out, his voice hoarse, cracking like something breaking apart inside him.
“Yes, you can,” Finn insisted, his hands coming up to cup Cedric’s face, thumbs brushing over damp skin. He held him there, refusing to let him retreat into himself again. “Whatever it is you’re afraid of, whatever secret you’re keeping…we can face it together. Just let me in.”
Cedric’s breath shuddered against Finn’s lips. Finn had never seen him look so vulnerable—his eyes wide with fear, desire, raw need that begged to be spoken.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Cedric whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Then tell me,” Finn urged. He could feel the slight tremor in Cedric’s body, the tension thrumming beneath his skin. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this. This limbo, this—” He swallowed, his grip tightening. “This thing where you keep running from me like you don’t want this.”
Cedric flinched, his shoulders drawing in as if to make himself smaller.
His lips parted, hesitation warring with the truth, clawing to escape.
“I want to tell you,” he admitted, so softly it was nearly lost to the night.
His gaze found Finn’s, filled with a haunting sadness that stole the air from Finn’s lungs. “I really do.”
Finn stilled, waiting.
“I just…I need time,” Cedric whispered. “To think about it.”
Time. Finn could work with that. It wasn’t rejection—it wasn’t another door slammed between them. It wasn’t Cedric disappearing into the dark and pretending none of this had ever happened. Time meant there was still a chance.
“I’ll give you all the time you need,” Finn whispered. “But tonight, just be with me. No secrets, no shadows—just you and me.”
A long pause. Then Cedric sighed, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling briefly in the strands. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple.” Finn loosened his grip, giving him the space to leave—but Cedric didn’t pull away.
He waited, heart pounding, watching the war flicker behind Cedric’s eyes. A choice balanced on a knife’s edge.
“Finn.” The name was spoken like a decision. Or maybe a plea.
Finn’s pulse jumped. “Yeah?”
Cedric swallowed, his hand resting against Finn’s chest, thumb grazing his collarbone in a touch so light it sent a shiver through him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. Too long.”
Before Finn could respond, Cedric’s shoulders eased, a quiet surrender, like giving up a battle he never wanted to fight. “I want this.” His voice was steadier now, though his fingers still rested where they had landed, as if waiting for permission. “I want you.”
A rush of desire shot through Finn at the words. “Then let’s make up for lost time.”
A tiny voice in the back of Cedric’s head screamed a warning, even as he closed the distance between himself and the knight.
This was dangerous. Cedric knew it all the way to his marrows.
But it had been so long since someone had looked at him the way Finn did.
Since someone wanted him—not the prince he once was, not the monster he sometimes became, but him.
And gods help him, Cedric deserved this, didn’t he? I’ve hidden away in these woods for years with only my sister and goats for company. I shouldn’t feel wrong to want…more.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
Cedric yanked his tunic over his head. His pulse hammered in his throat as the cool night air kissed his exposed skin.
Every nerve ending felt alive, hypersensitive after years of denying himself this kind of vulnerability.
The warning voice in his head tried to speak again—what if he sees the golden scales that sometimes shimmer beneath your skin, what if he knows what you are—but Cedric silenced it, drowning it in the heady rush of desire.
His fingers moved to his waistband, pushing down his trousers with none of the careful grace he usually possessed. Tonight, he would not be ruled by fear. Tonight, he would claim what he wanted—what they both wanted.
Finn swallowed as his gaze roamed over him. The knight’s obvious desire fed something primal in Cedric, something that had been starved for far too long.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice barely recognizable, rough with need.
He watched as Finn struggled with his own garments, fingers fumbling with laces. Something tender and possessive surged through Cedric at the sight of the knight’s usually steady hands made clumsy with want. He stepped forward, unable to bear the waiting any longer.
“Let me,” he murmured, reaching for the laces.
His knuckles grazed the warm skin of Finn’s stomach as he worked, and Cedric felt the knight shudder at his touch. The simple reaction sent a bolt of pleasure through him, the knowledge that he could affect Finn so deeply with just the barest contact.
When they finally stood together, nothing between them but moonlight and shadow, Cedric took a half-step back, drinking in the sight of Finn.
The battle scars that marked Finn’s body caught the warm lantern light.
Finn didn’t shy away from his gaze. Instead, he straightened, a pleased half-smile playing at his lips.
“See something you like, Your Highness?” he teased, his voice husky.
The sound of his old title sent a shiver down Cedric’s spine.
No one had called him that in ten years.
Yet from Finn’s lips, it wasn’t a burden or a reminder of what he’d lost. It was an endearment, intimate and playful, as if the title belonged to this moment alone, to the two of them in the quiet sanctuary of the stable.
Something fierce and possessive stirred in his blood. Without thinking, Cedric grabbed Finn by the waist, pulling him close with sudden urgency.
“I need you,” he growled against Finn’s ear, his voice raw with desire he no longer had the strength to hide.
Finn’s answering shudder was all the invitation Cedric needed. There was no going back now, no retreating behind walls of propriety or duty. Only this moment, only this man against him, only the desperate, wonderful feeling of finally, finally being wanted.
Cedric heaved a shaky breath, hand trailing up Finn’s back in a slow, lazy drag. An unfamiliar warmth filled him, a contentedness he hadn’t felt in years. Not just from the intimacy, but from the safety of the knight’s arms. The wanting and acceptance. Cedric hadn’t known how much he needed that.
For several minutes, only the soft hitch of them catching their breath broke the quiet. They lay tangled in the afterglow, satisfied.
Then Cedric gave a soft sigh. “Told you.”
Finn let out a soft chuckle, lifting his head to meet Cedric’s gaze. “Told me what?”
Cedric’s fingers traced idle patterns against Finn’s sweat-damp skin. “That you’re mine.”
Finn grinned. “Damn right, I am.”
The possessive ferocity in the knight’s voice made something inside Cedric squeeze in all the best ways. He tucked himself closer to Finn, to the comfort of his warmth. No more words. Just closeness. Just this.
Sleep had almost claimed him when Cedric heard Finn’s voice, soft as a prayer. “Goodnight, my prince.”
Finn stirred, wakefulness returning in fragments—the prickling straw beneath his side, the dull ache blooming along his ribs. Perhaps a night of passion while recovering from his injuries wasn’t advisable, but he had no regrets.
Sunlight slithered through the thin slats of the stable walls, gilding motes of dust that danced above him. He stretched, relishing the slow burn of spent pleasure, the ghost of Cedric’s smile still vivid in his mind.
But when he curled closer to the space where Cedric should have been…he wasn’t there.
Finn rubbed a hand over his face. “Cedric?” he called. Surely he hadn’t gone far.
A deep, ragged gasp came in answer. No, a whimper. Finn bolted upright, his breath hitching, hay needling his scalp as his head snapped toward the source.
Light caught on gold. A massive shape shuddered in the open area of the stable, muscles seizing, limbs trembling with the effort of supporting its own weight. Finn knew what he was looking at. But his mind refused to accept it.
Not possible. Not real. It couldn’t be.
A dragon—no, not just a dragon. THE dragon. The monster Finn had sworn to kill.
The creature scrambled unsteadily to its feet, its wingtips dragging against the stable floor. Finn’s body locked up, every muscle frozen, every nerve screaming at him to move, to fight, to run—but he couldn’t.
Because those eyes. Cedric’s eyes. Gold-flecked, raw with emotion. Haunted. Familiar.
Finn’s stomach twisted, nausea rising. This is Cedric.
No. This is a lie.
He staggered to his feet, almost tripping on the pile of discarded clothing. Finn’s clothing. Cedric’s clothing.
Finn had kissed Cedric. Had let himself fall for him. Had let himself believe… And the whole time, Cedric had been the very thing Finn had sworn to destroy.
Finn reeled, his breath shattering from his lungs. A betrayal so vast it stole the air from the room. “You lied to me.” The accusation ripped from his throat, splintering like bone.
The dragon—Cedric—made a keening, grieving noise that didn’t belong in the throat of a monster. A raw, searing ache tore through Finn. He had trusted Cedric. He had loved him, or at least—he had let himself begin to.
“I let myself be yours,” Finn choked out. The words dripped acid, searing his tongue. His throat burned. “I thought we—”
He stopped himself, biting down on the words before he could say something even more damning, even more foolish.
Cedric took a step backward, tail tip bumping the stable wall. His head was low, wings bunched, the posture of a creature feeling shame and regret. Cedric refused to meet his gaze. He made a soft rumble, then spun, shoving the stable doors open with a foreclaw.
A part of Finn wanted to stop him. To demand answers. To make Cedric stay and face what he had done. But the hurt was too fresh, the wound too raw. Finn couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except watch in helpless agony as Cedric scrambled away from him.
Finn stumbled after him, as if he might bodily stop the dragon, dressed as he was in absolutely nothing—because why stop making bad choices now? Golden scales rippled as Cedric pivoted, and the thunderclap of his wings almost knocked Finn off his feet.
Cedric soared into the sky, his golden form shrinking against the dawn. Finn stood there, his heart shattering to bits as he watched Cedric disappear into the light.
His father was dead because of that dragon. Because of Cedric.
The images flickered in his mind like cruel flashes of memory—Cedric laughing beside him at dinner. Cedric’s lips against his own in the dark. Cedric’s hands guiding his as they carved wood together.
Then—Cedric’s golden wings. His massive claws. His fanged maw.
Finn’s father crushed beneath rubble.
A broken sound escaping Finn’s lips as his entire world crumbled beneath him.
Betrayal. Confusion. Rage.
And worst of all, a deep, aching sorrow that he didn’t know what to do with. Because even now, even after all of it—he still wanted Cedric. And he hated himself for it.