Arvin strode into his opulent chamber, the heavy door swinging shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed his racing pulse. Mirha lingered in the threshold for a heartbeat, her breath catching as uncertainty warred with the pull of her heart, before she stepped inside. He turned, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made the air thicken, and closed the door with deliberate slowness, sealing them in this private sanctum where the weight of the empire fell away.
She stood frozen in the centre of the room, the lavish tapestries and flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced like unspoken secrets across her face. Arvin approached, his presence commanding yet tender, extending a hand to guide her toward the grand bed draped in silks. They sank onto its edge together, the mattress yielding beneath them, but the space between felt vast, charged with the storm of emotions neither had dared voice until now.
Mirha's fingers twisted in her lap, her chest rising and falling with anxious breaths. The silence stretched taut, until she shattered it, her voice a fragile whisper laced with desperation. "I am afraid... I have fallen for you, Your Majesty."The words hung between them, raw and irrevocable, her eyes glistening with the terror of her own truth.
Arvin stilled, his body going rigid as if struck, his breath halting in his throat. But Mirha pressed on, the floodgates of her confession bursting open. "I did not realise it until the news of Her Majesty's child reached me—the heir, a son. It struck me like a blade, how deeply I have betrayed her... and you. I came to you, surrendered to desires I should have buried. I have overstepped, trespassed where I do not belong."
With a choked sob, she slid from the bed and dropped to her knees before him, head bowed in abject surrender, tears tracing silent paths down her cheeks. "I know my place in this palace, the boundaries of my service. I shall never—"
"I love you more," Arvin interrupted, his voice rough with emotion, cracking under the strain of years held captive. He rose swiftly, his hands trembling as he reached down, drawing her up into his arms with a gentleness that belied the fire raging within him. She lifted her gaze, wide and shimmering with tears, searching his face for deceit that was not there.
"You are so blind, Mirha," he murmured, his thumb brushing away a tear from her cheek, his touch igniting sparks along her skin. "I have loved you for the longest time—long before the whispers of concubinage ever tainted the air between us."
She recoiled a step, her lips parting in shock, the question forming on her tongue like a plea. But Arvin anticipated it, his words tumbling forth in a torrent of vulnerability. 'No, I would never orchestrate such a cruel fate for you. I never besought Nailah for a concubine, nor did I intend to claim one at all. But fate... oh, fate is a capricious mistress. When she offered you, I could not refuse. Rejecting it would have meant losing you entirely, and the thought alone was unbearable. I wanted you by my side, not as a shadow in my court, but as the light that pierces my every shadowed hour."
Mirha stood rooted, the world tilting beneath her as his confession wrapped around her heart like velvet chains. Arvin closed the distance, his hands framing her face with reverent urgency. 'I love you desperately, Mirha—too much, far too much. Even now, with you so near, my chest burns as if aflame, a torment I crave. I love you, Mirha.'
And then, as if the dam of restraint had finally crumbled, he captured her lips in a kiss born of anguish and adoration, pouring every unspoken yearning into the press of his mouth against hers—a vulnerable surrender to the love that had haunted them both.
The kiss deepened, a slow unravelling of the barriers that had long divided them, Arvin's lips moving against Mirha's with a hunger tempered by reverence. His hands slid from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him, the heat of their bodies igniting through the thin layers of fabric. She gasped into his mouth, her fingers clutching at his shoulders, the world narrowing to the press of him, the shared breath that tasted of salt from her tears and the sweet promise of surrender.
Arvin broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jaw, whispering hoarsely against her skin, 'I love you, Mirha.' The words vibrated through her, sending shivers down her spine as he guided her backwards toward the bed. They sank onto the silken sheets together, his body covering hers in a protective cage of muscle and warmth. His fingers worked the laces of her gown with deliberate care, peeling the fabric away to expose her skin to the cool air of the chamber, then to the heat of his gaze.
She arched beneath him as he kissed the hollow of her throat, his mouth lingering, sucking gently until a soft mark bloomed there—a claim born of love, not possession. "Your Majesty" she murmured back, her voice trembling with the vulnerability of it all, her hands pushing at his tunic until it fell away, revealing the broad planes of his chest, scarred from battles long past but now hers to touch. Her palms glided over his skin, tracing the ridges of muscle, feeling his heart pound in rhythm with her own.
Arvin shifted, his knee nudging her thighs apart as he settled between them, his hardness pressing insistently against her core through the remaining barriers of cloth. He rocked slowly, grinding against her pussy, the friction drawing a whimper from her lips. With agonising patience, he tugged her skirts up, his fingers finding the wet heat between her legs, stroking her folds with feather-light touches that made her hips buck. 'So ready for me,' he breathed, slipping one finger inside her, then two, curling them to stroke that spot that made her clench around him.
Mirha's head fell back, her breath coming in ragged pants as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. "Please," she whispered, her hand reaching down to free his cock from his trousers, wrapping around the thick length, stroking him from base to tip. He groaned, thrusting into her grip, pre-cum slicking her palm. He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging her opening.
He entered her inch by inch, slow and deep, stretching her around his girth until he was fully seated, their bodies joined most intimately. They both stilled, savouring the fullness, the way her pussy gripped him like a vice. Arvin's forehead rested against hers, his eyes locked on hers, dark with emotion. "It's alright, my love", he said softly, beginning to move—long, languid thrusts that dragged his cock along her inner walls, hitting deep with every stroke.
She met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. The rhythm built gradually, intense in its restraint, each slide in and out building the fire between them. His hand cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it hardened into a peak, then his mouth followed, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. She gasped again, her nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure crested higher.
Arvin's pace remained unhurried, his hips rolling to grind his pelvis against her clit with every plunge, drawing out her moans. Sweat slicked their skin, the chamber filled with the wet sounds of their joining, the slap of flesh on flesh muffled by the intensity of their whispers. 'You are mine Mirha... for enternity,' he vowed against her ear, his breath hot as he nipped at her lobe, one hand sliding between them to rub circles over her swollen nub.
The tension snapped for her first, her pussy fluttering around his cock as orgasm ripped through her, her walls milking him in rhythmic pulses. She shattered with a sob, 'I love you Arvin.!' echoing in the air. Arvin followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her, his release hot and thick, his own 'I love you more.' growled low as he shuddered above her.
They clung together in the aftermath, breaths mingling, bodies entwined, the confessions lingering like a sacred vow in the quiet of the chamber.