Sir Romeo

The bedroom is a fair size, chairs lining the side walls that will go unused. A grand, poster bed sits in the middle, with panels of gauzy sheers billowing to the floor. Candles light the room just enough. The High Priestess is already in her chair near the bed, and I take my position off to one side. There is a gap in the sheers that allows me a perfect view of you as you mechanically undress and get on the bed alongside your new spouse.

My gaze does not yield from you. And I can tell you're purposely not looking at me. I wonder... is it from not wanting to be rude to your spouse, or are you trying not to think about how this is the first time I get to see you fully bared?

I wait patiently as you two begin. Finally, your head falls to the side and you look at me. My eyes ensnare you, the hunger in them unfettered. I dip my chin and my thumb starts to circle the pommel of my sword. The motion catches your attention and your gaze shifts down to my hand. Round and round, I alternate between rolling small circles on just the tip, to long drags around the widest flare of the pommel. Your eyes finally start dilating with desire—no thanks to the dispassioned fucking from your spouse. Tilting my sword more upright, the pommel slides into my palm and I begin stoking two fingers along the grip. I've teased you like this in the presence of others before, but the current circumstances allow me to be more bold with the motions.

And more bold I am.

I begin rolling my hips forward and back. It's a careful fight to exaggerate the motion while not rattling any of my armor. I lick then bite my lower lip. Come for me, I mouth to you. Whether you understand or not, only you could say. A moan finally escapes your lips, no doubt from imaging and wishing I was the one on the bed with you. Your spouse pauses for the briefest moment, then continues with some vigor—finally—thinking themself the cause of your expression of lust. But we know the truth.

Once the High Priestess declares you two properly united, she completes the ritual by washing down your and your spouse's nethers and draping plush robes around your shoulders, then exits. Your spouse looks at you, clears their throat, then bids you goodnight. They leave with their knight. You stand there bemused.

"This way, Your Highness," I tell you and lead you out the room. You adjust your robe and follow me. I take you to a room—your room—and unlock the door.

You enter and slowly take everything in. "And where exactly have you brought me?"

"To your personal, private rooms, Your Highness." You stop your observing and look straight at me, eyebrows raised in question. With a smirk growing on my face, I close the door behind me and lock it. "Were you not informed? You and your wedded keep separate quarters."

Your expression grows expectant. Eyes darting to the locked door before quickly skating down my body until they lock on my hands because I've begun removing my sword and armor. Your hands curl and fist into your robe. Your lips part, and I know the question that's reluctant to leave them.

"No one will disturb you until morning, Your Highness." I take great pleasure in watching your reaction as I pull my tunic over my head. I've long been the only one you fantasize about, though our respective positions forbade anything from happening beyond burning gazes and discreet, suggestive actions. But now that you've consummated your marriage, the devil of your royal celibacy before marriage is no longer a detail to be honored. "Now... get on your bed and let me show you how to get properly fucked, Your Highness."

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