#smut 7th loop

“He really tried to convince you he was a duke?” Arnold asked, amused, brow raised.

Rishe rolled her eyes and laughed softly. “With a feathered hat and wine-stained gloves. Very convincing.”

Arnold smirked. “You attract all kinds.”

“Don’t remind me.”

The laughter died down, and quiet settled again—this time thicker, more intimate. Their gazes lingered a bit longer, breathing syncing slowly in the space between them. The mood shifted, unspoken but undeniable.

Rishe’s smile faded into something softer. Her eyes searched his, a quiet vulnerability surfacing.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” she murmured.

Arnold didn’t blink. “Tell me.”

She hesitated, then let out a slow breath. “My ex-fiancé… Diedrich.”

His jaw shifted slightly, but he said nothing.

“I never loved him. I didn’t even mind when he ended the engagement. It felt like... freedom. But it was how he did it that stayed with me. Humiliation in front of the entire court, like he needed to make a spectacle of it. I wasn’t ashamed to be cast aside—I was ashamed I hadn’t seen it coming.”

She paused. “I thought that was it. That I’d just live quietly on my own after that. And then—”

A ghost of a smile curved her lips.

“Then you showed up. Without a ring. No grand speech. Just that look in your eyes and the ridiculous confidence to kneel before me and ask if I’d marry you.”

Arnold’s mouth tugged up into a crooked smile. “You said no.”

She chuckled. “Yes. But even then, I already knew you weren’t going to take that answer.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek.

She leaned in, their noses almost brushing now. “And now, I finally understand what this feeling is I've been struggling with the past months with you.”

Her breath trembled as it left her. “I’m in love with you, Arnold.”

He didn’t speak. He just looked at her—as if seeing every version of her, every wall she’d ever built and every crack where the light now slipped through. Then slowly, he closed the space between them.

The kiss deepened naturally, as though neither of them had planned for it but both had been waiting for it far longer than they’d admit. Arnold’s hand slid from her cheek to the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there was no more space left between them. Rishe shifted, her thigh slipping between his legs as his hand traced the line of her back.

There was a softness in every movement—his fingers in her hair, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth as they briefly broke apart for air. She smiled at the closeness, the safety, the heat.

His lips returned to hers, slower this time, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth. Rishe sighed against him, her hand gripping the back of his neck, her body molding into his with complete trust.

They rolled gently, the sheets wrapping around them as Arnold hovered above her, his forehead resting on hers. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint.

Rishe answered not with words, but with the way her hands slid down his back, pulling him closer, grounding him. “Yes,” she breathed.

Every touch was careful, reverent—like he couldn’t believe she was real. Her gown loosened further beneath his fingertips, and she arched into him with a quiet gasp, her mouth brushing against his shoulder.

They moved together slowly, as if time had slowed just for them. No grand declarations, just sighs and soft moans, the kind that spoke of months of tension, of trust, of two hearts finally aligned.

When it was over, they didn’t move apart.

Arnold remained close, his nose brushing her temple, one arm beneath her head, the other holding her waist. Rishe, her cheek pressed to his chest, could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat—slow, steady, grounding.

She lifted her head just enough to look at him. His eyes were already on her.

Then, his voice, low and warm near her ear: “I already told you I’ve fallen for you."

Her lips curled into a sleepy smile as she let her head fall back to his chest. “I know,” she whispered.

He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Still true.”

Rishe nestled closer, their legs tangled, the weight of him both grounding and comforting. The heat of their bodies lingered under the sheets. Their fingers entwined lazily at her waist, no need for more words.