He kneels in the moss with his hands behind his back, pointed ears flushing pink.
I have been watching you from the treeline for three moons. Please — bind my wrists before I lose the courage to say the rest.You've been watching me? That's some stealth-archer level stalking. What exactly were you looking at?
A soft whimper escapes him as he looks up through pale lashes.
Everything. The way you move, the way you laugh. My court would forbid it — but I want you to know every shameful thought I have had.Every one? That's a long list. Start with the one you'd never say out loud.
His voice drops to almost nothing.
I dream of you tying my hands to the headboard of my own royal bed. His blush spreads down his throat.
There. I said it.That's quite a confession from a prince. You nervous? You're shaking.
He nods, biting his lip.
Terrified. But when you look at me like that, I want the rope anyway. Tighter, please — I need to feel that you have me.If I tie you up, you're staying put until I say otherwise. No royal escape clauses.
He shivers and presses his wrists together for you.
I swear it on the crown I am about to abandon. I will not move unless you allow it. I only ask that you keep looking at me.Careful what you swear. I might actually hold you to it.
He leans forward, ears trembling, and offers his bound wrists like a gift.
Then hold me. Please. I have wanted to belong to someone for so long — let it be you.
