The emperor's bedchambers – the morning of Elara's arrival.
Dawn had not yet broken—it was still early, the kind of hour when silence lingered heavy in the air. Aiden was already awake, lying on his back with his gaze fixed on the gilded ceiling, on the light of the empire. But he wasn't really seeing it. His thoughts were elsewhere, turning endlessly, Gabriella's words circling like vultures in his mind.
He had spent the entire night watching Elliott sleep, as though closing his eyes would invite disaster. dread curled at the pit of his stomach. They had taken every safety precaution—gone so far as to deceive Elliott for his own sake. Yet his chest still ached with worry, heavy like lead.
With a sigh, Aiden sat up against his arm, turning sideways. His eyes lingered on Elliott's sleeping face. He traced the lines silently, from the gentle slope of his nose, to the curve of his lips, down to the pale, elegant stretch of his throat, the sharp collarbones vanishing beneath the silk of his nightdress.
He blinked, shaking himself. "God... you make me crazy," he muttered hoarsely, before leaning down and burying his face against Elliott's shoulder.
The blonde stirred slightly but did not wake. Instead, he shifted his neck lazily, almost instinctively, as if to grant Aiden more room.
Aiden accepted it greedily. He pressed closer, inhaling Elliott's warmth. He could feel each breath, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm he had long ago committed to memory. That rhythm was everything. It was life. It was his promise, his duty, his obsession. And now, once again, it was at risk.
Elliott's promise to Sydney had been noble, foolish. So him. Insisting on receiving Elara with respect, personally, even if such courtesy might be answered with betrayal. It was infuriating. But also, Aiden realized, it was part of why he loved him so fiercely.
The message from the outpost had been clear—Elara's carriage would arrive just after first light. Aiden had told Elliott it would be midmorning. Two hours of space, just as Gabriella suggested. Enough time for his men to intercept her at the gates, to lead her to a prepared receiving room. Enough time for a trusted dame under Commander Lira to conduct a meticulous search, hidden behind the excuse of protocol.
It was a good plan. Necessary. But the lie still weighed on his stomach like poison. He had lied to Elliott before, and each time, Elliott had forgiven him. Each time, that forgiveness had cut him deeper.
"...please forgive me this one last time too," Aiden murmured against Elliott's skin.
The sleeping man did not stir, did not register the words. Aiden hadn't meant for him to.
Time slipped by. The sun finally breached the horizon, spilling gold across the chamber. Aiden didn't wake Elliott—he hoped he would sleep longer, stay untouched by the day for as long as possible.
Eventually, Elliott stirred. A soft sigh slipped past his lips as his eyes fluttered open. He let out a faint gasp when he saw how closely Aiden clung to him, still getting used to this new closeness. But the surprise quickly melted into a small, sleepy smile.
Before he could say a word, Aiden lifted his head and kissed him. A soft press of lips, then another at his jaw, then the tip of his nose.
Elliott chuckled quietly, the sound half muffled. His smile grew impossibly tender. "Good morning," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
"Hm." Aiden hummed, tracing his mouth along Elliott's throat, pressing slow kisses into the pale skin. "Morning." His arm snaked tighter around Elliott's waist, holding him fast. "Stay," he whispered into the hollow of his neck, the sound low and commanding. "It's early."
Elliott hummed back, leaning into the warmth of him. A glance at the window confirmed it was still early. Believing Elara would not arrive until midmorning, he saw no reason to argue.
Aiden's lips trailed lower, his hand on Elliott's waist shifting to rest at his hip, rubbing small, soothing circles there. His teeth grazed the tender juncture of his neck, leaving behind a mark that would surely darken with time.
Elliott gasped softly. "Aiden!" he chided but it lacked any real force.
"It's below the collar," Aiden murmured against the mark, soothing it with a kiss. "No one will see."
"You... seriously," Elliott sighed, exasperated yet fond.
They stayed like that, suspended in the quiet, Aiden mapping Elliott's shoulders like a canvas with his lips, sometimes a gentle brush, sometimes a teasing nip of his teeth.
Eventually, Elliott tried to move. "Elara will be here midmorning. We should get up and prepare— we have to greet her properly." He tried to sit, but Aiden didn't let him.
The prince pinned him easily, gently but firmly. One hand braced above the pillows while the other caught Elliott's wrists, holding them over his head. "Shh," he breathed, voice firm. "There's time." It was a lie. Elara had likely already arrived, already being searched. "The staff will prepare." His free hand slipped beneath Elliott's nightshirt.
Elliott flushed, startled. Until now, they had only kissed. "Aiden—" He tried to speak, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.
"Shh," Aiden repeated, more firmly this time. His hand caressed the smooth curve of Elliott's waist, fingers spreading to feel the warmth of his skin. He didn't wander higher or lower, just traced him slowly, insistently, as though memorizing every inch.
"Stay with me a little longer," Aiden whispered. His voice was velvet soft, yet edged with command. A rather poor attempt to conceal what it really was underneath. "Indulge me for one more moment."
He knew it was manipulation. He was using Elliott's new, hesitant hunger for his touch against him. Using the heat of their shared bed, the quiet ache of intimacy, to override his sense of duty. But Aiden couldn't bring himself to care. Not now. Not when he had this moment, this fragile morning, and the man he couldn't let go of.
A faint, triumphant smirk curled on the younger man's lips when he felt Elliott finally relax against the sheets. The tension eased out of the emperor's body little by little, and though the flush across his cheeks had dulled, it still lingered faintly, warm and soft against his skin. Aiden hated how delectable it looked—how much it made his chest tighten, how badly he wanted to press his lips to every inch of that embarrassed red until nothing remained but the proof of his kisses.
"Aiden..." Elliott tried again, though weaker this time, his voice almost breaking on the name. It was clear his resolve was crumbling quickly. He didn't even try to move away, or pretend to push Aiden off him anymore. His hands stayed where they were, caught and pinned above his head, his body warm beneath Aiden's weight. "This is... unlike you. Not that I'm complaining, but..." His blush deepened, spreading across his cheekbones, his ears. "We have... responsibilities."
"My only responsibility is you." Aiden's reply was immediate, fervent. The words were spoken to deceive, yes, but in the same breath they carried the weight of a truth as solid as stone. "Everything else... can wait."
Before Elliott could argue—if he even had the will left to—Aiden leaned down and captured his lips. The kiss was deep, lingering, heavy with intent. It wasn't soft or tentative. It was a kiss meant to unravel. To replace duty with desire, to burn away reason until nothing remained but the heat between them. To make Elliott forget court, forget the empire, forget even himself—until all that existed was the warmth of Aiden's mouth, the steady weight of his body, the cage of his arms.
And it worked.
Elliott melted into the kiss. The last fragments of his resolve gave way as a soft, yielding sound slipped out of him, muffled between their mouths. In that moment, the emperor was gone. He disappeared—cast aside like discarded robes—leaving behind only Elliott. Elliott, warm and pliant in Aiden's embrace, trembling faintly with every press of lips and breath.
Aiden kissed him again. And again. And again.
Every time their mouths parted, he stole another breath, only to dive back in, unable to stop himself. His lips traced Elliott's jaw, kissed the corner of his mouth, then found his lips again, greedier each time. He pressed another to the hollow of his throat, then returned to his mouth, desperate, lingering.
In every kiss he poured everything he couldn't say—every ounce of fear, every shred of devotion, every thread of his wild, all-consuming love. A love as vast and terrifying as the ocean, one that could crush and drown, and yet—so sweet, so devastatingly sweet—that Elliott could only surrender to it, let it pull him under.
AN: nothing explicit cause yknow is not a mature story. Sidenote but if it were you just know that these two would've had like back breaking sex in this scene.