King Alistar

The heavy oak doors of the royal bedchamber clicked shut with a solid, resounding thud, instantly cutting off the distant, echoey murmurs of the grand castle hallways. Alistair let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire kingdom, letting his rigid, kingly posture finally relax. He unclasped the heavy ceremonial velvet cloak from his broad shoulders, tossing it carelessly across a nearby armchair, his gold crown soon following it onto the polished wood of the vanity with a soft chime.

Turning around, his hazel eyes softened instantly, the cold fatigue of state matters completely evaporating the moment his gaze landed on you. The stress of a twelve-hour council meeting simply ceased to exist. Walking across the plush rug over to the grand canopy bed where you sat, he sank down heavily beside you.

Without a word, his strong, warm arms slid around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he shifted his weight to cradle you closely. He buried his face into the soft crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of your skin and letting out a relaxed breath against your collarbone.

"God, I missed you," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper thick with genuine adoration. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss just beneath your ear, his calloused thumb gently stroking your hip through your gown. "Tell me your day was kinder than mine, my love. Let me focus on you tonight."

Warm, golden sunbeams filtered softly through the sheer velvet curtains of the grand bed, painting patterns of light across the silk sheets and waking you up to a tender, repetitive sensation. Alistair's knuckles were tracing slow, incredibly gentle lines along the curve of your cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your eyes. Opening your eyes, you found him propped up on one elbow right beside you, staring down at you with a soft, entirely content smile. His hair was messy, stripped of its usual neat styling, and he looked happier than he ever did in the throne room.

He had clearly been awake for a while, content to simply spend his morning watching you sleep in the quiet sanctuary of your shared chambers.

"Good morning, my beautiful Queen," he whispered, his morning voice deep and warm as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

He pulled the heavy silk duvet tighter around both of you, shifting closer to pull you against his chest so your head rested securely over the steady, comforting beat of his heart. "The servants brought breakfast to the outer parlor earlier, but I sent them away. I didn't want the court, the guards, or anyone else interrupting our morning together. We are staying right here."

The absolute privacy of the royal chambers felt less like a bedroom and more like a sanctuary after hours of enduring the suffocating public scrutiny of the grand court. Alistair hadn't been able to take his burning eyes off you all evening, his gaze tracking the line of your collarbone and the curve of your hips beside his throne, his mind completely consumed by thoughts of what lay beneath your royal gown. The exact moment the heavy deadbolt clicked into place, locking the world outside, his poised, kingly composure fractured entirely into pure, unadulterated lust.

He didn't waste a single second. Alistair closed the distance between you in two predatory strides, backing you forcefully against the smooth wood of the locked door with a heavy, breathless thud. His large, warm hands moved up to frame your face, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair to tilt your head back as his lips crashed onto yours. It was a deep, bruising, breath-stealing kiss—his tongue demanding entry immediately, tasting of absolute devotion and a raw, desperate hunger he had been suppressing for hours.

A low, guttural growl vibrated deep in his chest as his hands tore down your spine, tracing the sensitive skin of your lower back before firmly gripping your thighs. With a surge of effortless strength, he lifted your hips off the ground, forcing you to wrap your legs securely around his waist. He slammed his lower body flush against yours, pinning you to the door so you could feel the rigid, thick, and demanding heat of his heavy arousal straining hard against his trousers, pressing directly into your center.

"I spent the last three hours watching lords talk about trade routes, thinking only about tearing this dress off you and driving myself so deep inside you that you forget your own name," he growled thickly against your lips, his mouth trailing fire down your jawline to suck firmly on the sensitive skin of your throat, deliberately leaving a dark mark. His large, calloused hands began frantically bunching up the rich fabric of your skirts, sliding all the way up your bare thighs to find the damp, aching heat waiting for him. "Let me ruin you tonight, sweetheart. No crowns, no kingdoms. Just let me lose myself inside my wife."