Chapter 7 #2
I spread his cheeks apart, revealing the tight pucker of his entrance. A surge of primal hunger swept through me at the sight. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to one rounded globe, then the other, inhaling his scent, clean and musky and male.
Reaching for the bedside table, I retrieved a bottle of lubricant. The cap opened with a soft click, and I poured a generous amount onto my fingers. The clear gel warmed against my skin as I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together.
Returning my attention to Theo, I traced a slick finger around his entrance, feeling the ring of muscle twitch at my touch. Slowly, I pressed inside, past the initial resistance, into tight heat. Theo gasped, his body tensing momentarily before relaxing to accommodate my intrusion.
I worked him open, adding a second finger when I felt him loosen around the first, stretching him, preparing him for what was to come.
All the while, I watched his reactions, the way his fingers curled into fists when I brushed against his prostate, the subtle arch of his back as he sought more contact.
“So tight,” I murmured, adding a third finger. “Si parfait.”
When I deemed him adequately prepared, I withdrew my fingers, eliciting a small sound of protest from Theo. Smiling to myself, I applied more lubricant to my cock, stroking the length to ensure it was fully coated.
Positioning myself between his spread thighs, I guided the head of my cock to his entrance. With one hand on the small of his back and the other holding my shaft, I pushed forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle.
The sensation was exquisite—hot, tight pressure. I paused, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion, watching in fascination as his body accepted me inch by inch. Slowly, I sank deeper, until I was fully seated within him, my pelvis flush against his ass.
“Mon Dieu,” I breathed, momentarily overwhelmed by the sensation.
I began to move, drawing back before pushing forward again, establishing a steady rhythm.
Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, building like a gathering storm.
Theo responded beautifully, moving as much as his restraints would allow, meeting my thrusts with subtle shifts of his hips.
The sounds he made were intoxicating, soft groans and gasps that grew in volume as our pace increased. His hands gripped the restraints, knuckles whitening with the force of his hold, his body straining against the leather bonds.
“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, my voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.
“Yes,” he gasped, his face half-buried in the pillow. “Yes, Your Grace.”
The formal address sent another surge of arousal through me. There was something darkly thrilling about being acknowledged as royalty even in this most intimate of acts. A reminder of who I was, of the power I held, even as I surrendered to baser instincts.
I continued my relentless pace, watching my cock disappear into his body again and again. The visual was as stimulating as the physical sensation—the contrast of my pale skin against his tanned flesh, the way his hole stretched around my girth, the slight glistening of lubricant catching the light.
After several minutes, I slowed my movements, then withdrew. Theo made a sound of disappointment at the loss, but I had other plans. Reaching for the restraints at his ankles, I released them, allowing his legs more freedom of movement.
“On your knees,” I commanded, guiding his lower body into position while his upper half remained bound to the bed.
The new position presented a different angle, one that would allow for deeper penetration. Theo's ass was now raised, his back arched, his face still pressed into the pillow. I took a moment to appreciate the view before positioning myself behind him once more.
With one hand gripping his hip for leverage, I guided my cock back to his entrance and pushed inside in one smooth motion. The changed angle allowed me to penetrate deeper than before, eliciting a sharp cry from Theo as I bottomed out.
“C'est bon?” I asked, concerned by the intensity of his reaction.
“Yes,” he gasped, his voice muffled by the pillow. “God, yes.”
Reassured, I resumed my thrusting, harder and faster now, driven by an increasing urgency.
Each movement jostled Theo, throwing him off balance, forcing him to grip the restraints tighter to maintain his position.
The sight of him struggling to accommodate my forceful thrusts only heightened my arousal.
My hands roamed his body, gripping his hips, his waist, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach.
I was consumed by the need to possess him completely, to mark him as mine, if only for this night.
The thought of others having him, touching him as I was now, sent an unexpected surge of jealousy through me.
“Tu es à moi ce soir,” I growled, leaning over him to speak into his ear. “You're mine tonight.”
“Yours,” he agreed breathlessly, turning his head to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with desire.
Our faces were close now, our breath mingling in the heated space between us.
On impulse, I captured his lips with mine, kissing him as I continued to thrust into him.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hungry, demanding, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues that mirrored the urgent rhythm of our bodies.
The dual stimulation of kissing him while buried deep inside him pushed me closer to the edge of orgasm, that familiar tightening in my lower abdomen, the building pressure demanding release.
Normally, I would have withdrawn before climaxing, but in that moment, all rational thought was overwhelmed by primal instinct.
With a final, powerful thrust, I buried myself to the hilt inside him and came, my cock pulsing as I emptied myself into his willing body.
The intensity of my orgasm caught me by surprise, wringing a hoarse cry from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
“Je suis désolé,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
“I didn't mean to finish inside you. That was... unexpected.”
“It's okay,” Theo reassured me, his voice soft. “Whatever you want from me, it's okay.”
His words pleased me. Still, it had been a breach of etiquette on my part, one of many tonight, if I were being honest.
Carefully, I withdrew from his body, watching as a trickle of my release followed. The sight was oddly satisfying, primal.
Moving to the head of the bed, I released Theo's wrists from their restraints, massaging the slightly reddened skin where the leather had rubbed. His hands were warm in mine, his fingers curling around my own as I tended to him.
“Are you alright?” I asked, studying his face for any signs of discomfort or distress.
“I'm fine, Your Grace.” Theo nodded, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That was... intense.”
I studied Theo's face in the aftermath of our coupling, his cheeks flushed with exertion, eyes half-lidded yet still burning with unmistakable need.
My gaze traveled down his body, pausing at his still-rigid cock that lay neglected against his stomach.
The sight stirred something within me, a desire to give rather than simply take.
“You haven't finished,” I observed, my voice rough from exertion.
Theo shifted, as if suddenly self-conscious. “It's fine, Your Grace. This was about your pleasure.”
“Non,” I replied firmly, moving closer to him. “I want to watch you.”
Without waiting for his response, I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his length. He was hot and hard in my palm, skin like velvet over steel. A small gasp escaped his lips at the contact, his hips instinctively bucking into my grip.
I began to stroke him with deliberate slowness, savoring the weight of him in my hand. Each upward pull revealed the glistening head before my downward stroke buried it again in my fist. His precome provided natural lubrication, making my movements smooth and fluid.
“C'est ca,” I murmured, watching his reactions intently. “Let go for me.”
Theo's breathing grew more ragged with each stroke, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Those eyes fluttered closed, then opened again to meet mine, dark with desire. The vulnerability in his gaze was intoxicating, raw and honest in a way I rarely encountered.
I quickened my pace, tightening my grip, learning what pleased him by the hitches in his breath and the tremors that ran through his body. My free hand moved to cup his face, thumb tracing the outline of his lower lip.
It wasn't long before a strangled cry escaped his throat as his release spilled over my hand and onto his stomach. I continued to stroke him through his climax, gentling my touch as the pulses subsided.
In that moment, with Theo shuddering in my arms, his face buried against my shoulder, I felt something shift within me. This wasn't just physical release. It was connection, something I'd denied myself for too long.
I held him close as his breathing steadied, his warm weight against me strangely comforting. For the first time in years, the constant noise in my head, the endless litany of duties and expectations, fell silent, replaced by a profound sense of peace.
“Stay there,” I said, moving to the bathroom to retrieve a warm, damp cloth.
When I returned, he hadn't moved, his body still splayed across the rumpled sheets, a picture of sated contentment. I cleaned him with careful, gentle strokes.
“You don't have to do that,” he murmured, though he made no move to stop me.
“I want to,” I replied simply, continuing my ministrations. It felt right, this act of care after the intensity we'd experienced together. Necessary, even.
Once I'd finished, I disposed of the cloth and returned to the bed, stretching out beside him.
To my surprise and pleasure, he rested against my chest, settling himself in my arms. The silence between us was comfortable, filled only by the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the air conditioning.
After a while, Theo's eyelids began to droop. I watched as he fought against sleep, his blinks becoming longer, his breathing deepening. “Rest,” I told him, pulling the sheet up to cover us both. “You're safe here.”
He mumbled something incoherent, already half-asleep, with my arm draped protectively over his waist.
The position felt natural, comforting in a way I hadn't expected.
His body fit against mine perfectly, his breathing slowing to the deep, even rhythm of sleep.
I inhaled the scent of his hair, feeling a strange peace settle over me.
In this unguarded moment, he looked younger, almost vulnerable—and I found myself wanting to protect rather than possess him.
How strange that in a place designed for physical gratification, it was this simple act of sleeping beside another human being that felt most transgressive, most intimate.
In Avaline, even my lovers never spent the night, a rule born of discretion and emotional distance.
Yet here I was, finding unexpected solace in the steady rhythm of a stranger's breathing.
My gaze caught on a faint line marking his shoulder, a scar I hadn't noticed earlier in the heat of passion. Without thinking, I traced it with my fingertip, following its jagged path across his skin.
Theo stirred at my touch, his eyelids fluttering open.
“Skateboarding accident when I was twelve,” he murmured sleepily. “Casey dared me to jump a ramp.”
I smiled, charmed by this glimpse into his life before The Ranch, before me. “I fell off a horse at fourteen trying to impress my father,” I confessed, the memory surfacing unbidden. “He didn't visit me in the infirmary.”
The words hung between us, heavier than I'd intended. I hadn't spoken of that incident in years, that crushing disappointment as I'd watched the door, waiting for a visit that never came.
“That's fucked up,” Theo said, his American directness cutting through decades of carefully rationalized pain.
I bit back a surprising urge to laugh at his blunt assessment, so different from the careful platitudes I was accustomed to receiving. Theo reached for my hand, his fingers sliding between mine. The gesture was small but deliberate, offering comfort without pity.
“Stay,” I said, the word escaping before I could analyze it. “Just... stay.”
“Okay,” he whispered, settling against me, his body relaxing into trust.
For the first time since arriving at The Ranch, perhaps for the first time in years, I felt truly present, my mind not racing with thoughts of responsibility and obligation.
No calculating diplomatic advantages, no considering political ramifications, no weighing how my actions might reflect on the monarchy.
I traced the line of his shoulder with my fingertip, marveling at how this simple human connection had momentarily freed me from my gilded cage. The irony wasn't lost on me. I had come here seeking physical release but had stumbled upon something far more dangerous: emotional awakening.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, its own complications. But for now, in this room, with this man, I allowed myself to simply be.