Chapter Eight(18+)

> Content Warning:

This chapter contains mature, explicit sexual content and is intended for readers 18 years and older.

Last warning

There were no words. There was nothing left to say.

The silence that hung between them was not awkward—it was thick with understanding, heavy with all the moments they had never dared to speak aloud. Nakhtira was the first to move, slowly straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips, her veil falling back behind her shoulders.

Nari didn't flinch, though his heart pounded in his chest like war drums. He had always imagined this moment would terrify him. Instead, it grounded him. His hands rose to her waist, hesitant at first, then firm. He met her eyes—dark, searching—and then leaned in.

The first kiss was hesitant. Soft. An unsure press of lips. But when she didn't pull away, something inside him shifted. The years of holding back, of doubt and restraint, gave way to instinct. The second kiss was deeper. Then deeper still.

Nakhtira felt it—the moment the boy she'd married vanished into the man he had become. His grip tightened around her waist. His mouth moved with confidence now, his breath warm, tasting faintly of wine. Her fingers laced into his hair, pulling him closer, anchoring herself to him as her body melted into his.

Still, neither spoke. There was no need. Words would have only cluttered the sacred space between them.

Without warning, he lifted her. She gasped softly, not from surprise, but from the way his strength was so effortlessly shown. He carried her past the soft flicker of the braziers and through the veil of linen drapes, laying her down upon his bed like something sacred.

Their eyes met again in the silence.

Nari's fingers trembled when he touched her the first time. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he respected her. Every inch of her was approached like a prayer. He ran his hands along the curves of her hips, over her ribs, up to her chest. She tensed slightly as his hand covered her breast, and he looked up, noting the way her breath caught in her throat.

A soft tug at her nipple made her arch, a moan caught in her throat.

"Don't hold back," he said, voice low, almost shy, but laced with something deeper. "It's music to my ears."

Then his mouth replaced his hand—warm and tender as he explored her with the kind of focus that made her forget he had never done this before. He gave equal attention to each side, discovering what made her writhe, what made her sigh.

Nakhtira bit her lip to keep from crying out, but the way his tongue circled her nipple made her hips lift from the bed. Her hand flew to his shoulder, her nails biting into his skin.

She could hardly believe this was his first time. Was it instinct, or had he read too many ancient scrolls on love? Either way, she surrendered under his touch.

Then his lips moved lower—past her stomach, over the softness of her belly. The air grew warmer, thicker.

"My Lord..." she whispered, uncertain, reaching for him.

He caught her wrists gently, kissing the inside of her palm. "It's alright," he murmured.

And then he slipped the last of her garments off, slowly, reverently.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

She wasn't prepared. Not for the sensation of his mouth, not for the way he explored her without shame or hesitation. Her body betrayed her with every tremble. Her breath quickened, her thighs clenched, but he didn't let go—he held her gently, his hands warm and firm, keeping her in place.

When he found the softest part of her, she cried out, shocked at the flood of pleasure. Her fingers clutched the sheets, and her legs trembled around his shoulders.

"My Lord, wait—" she stuttered, voice shaking, "I… I feel something—strange—"

And then it broke over her, fast and unstoppable. Her body surged with a pleasure she'd never known, and her breath came in frantic waves. Her toes curled, her mind blanked.

"You got wetter," he said softly, brushing his lips across her inner thigh. "That's good."

When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her. He rose, pulling the golden tie of his shendyt loose, and let the fabric fall.

Her breath caught again—but this time not from pleasure. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. "My Lord… it won't fit," she whispered, eyes flicking between his face and the proud, aching proof of his desire.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her again, softer this time, brushing away her worry.

"We've come this far, my queen."

His words were a promise.

With infinite care, he guided himself to her. She tensed when he pressed forward, pain flickering across her face. He paused, holding her gaze. One of his hands found hers—intertwining their fingers.

She nodded.

He eased in slowly, inch by inch. Her breath hitched, and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away, murmuring quiet reassurances into her skin.

It was not easy, nor perfect—but it was real.

And once the pain gave way, the rhythm changed. It deepened. Became slower, more fluid. They moved together in waves, bodies speaking where words had no place.

Nari watched every shift in her face, every rise in her breath. He felt her cling to him, hips rising to meet him, chest pressing to his. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, the hollow beneath her collarbone.

Nakhtira lost count of how many times she came. It felt endless—as if the night itself bent to them, stretched longer to cradle their union.

At some point, her legs locked around his waist, and she pulled him closer, deeper.

"Don't stop," she whispered, for the first time in hours breaking the silence. Her voice cracked like the breaking of dawn.

He didn't. Not when her fingers left crescent moons on his back, not when her lips found his neck, not even when dawn began to push against the curtains of their chamber.

His body ached with effort, but his soul felt light. He held her after, their bodies still joined, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

When he finally slipped out of her, it was slow, almost reluctant.

Nakhtira turned on her side, facing him, tracing the lines of his jaw with her fingertip. She said nothing. She didn't need to.

Nari brushed her hair behind her ear. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. Then, after a pause: "Only at first. But not anymore."

He kissed her forehead. She buried her face into his chest.

They lay tangled together, the weight of the world outside their door. But inside, there was only the sound of two hearts resting.

By the time sleep claimed them, their limbs were knotted, their hearts bare, and the silence soft once more.