Sweet Treason

It was like a tidal wave, when he kissed me.  It pulled me under and nothing else matter, there was only Tristan, filling my lungs, overwhelming my body. My knees went to jelly and we both tumbled into the grass. I started giggled and he pushed my hair off my face.

“I love you,” he said, “every inch of me is yours, Lisette.” I swallowed and kissed him again.

“Prove it,” I mumbled into his lips. He kept kissing me and wiggled to be on top of me. I hiked my skirt up around my waist and he unlaced the front of his pants. I was never more sure of anything, than I was in that moment. I needed Tristan inside of me if I was ever going to be satisfied.

He pressed into me slowly, inch by inch, and I felt myself opening for him, and our lips never parted. Once I’d taken him, he started thrusting, and I did my best to match his rhythm. I briefly wondered if anyone could see us and then quickly realized I didn’t care. Tristan began to trail kisses on my jaw, and then my neck, and I whimpered softly.

“Lisette,” he panted, “I can’t, I have to,” I met his eyes and nodded and he pulled out, I gasped at the sudden absence of him and he finished against my thigh. We didn’t linger, quickly, pulling apart then, without a word, and walked back to the manor in comfortable silence, my hand in his.

I wanted to ask him a million things. How many other girls he’d been with? Did he know he was my first?  Did he understand that once we left here, this, whatever it was, between us couldn’t continue? But I was silent. I couldn’t shatter this moment. We got back to the manor and I excused myself to change for dinner. He kissed me softly and I went up to my room.

That night, at dinner and after we barely spoke. He couldn’t look me in the eye. It was only later, as we sat by the fire, everyone else gone to bed that he finally broke it.

“Do you regret it?” He said. I was startled.

“What?” I said. “No! Of course not! Do you?” He stared at me, baffled.

“How could you think,” he swallowed, “no, I don’t. I just thought,” he laughed and sat down, “you’ve been so quiet, and you’re normally, well,” he smiled, “not.”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” I frowned. “I didn’t know how,” I shook my head, “I’ve never done this, that, what we did.” He kissed me.

“Well, neither have I, but I thought that part was obvious,” he said. I laughed. “I enjoyed it though, and I got the impression you did.”

“Of course,” I blushed, “I mean, it was,” I swallowed. “How have you never been with anyone else?” He’s too perfect.

“There isn’t anyone else,” he said, taking my hand and tracing the lines with his thumb. “I came to life when I met you, that’s what I was trying to say this afternoon before you so rudely insisted I prove my devotion.” I rolled my eyes as he kissed my palm.

“What about The Lady Marina?” I asked. He drew back, surprised to hear her name.

“Marina?” He blinked. “What does Marina have to do with us?”

“You write to her,” I said, “and you carry that handkerchief. And you’ve said yourself that she’s beautiful, and wise, and powerful.”

“She’s been my friend since we were children,” he said, “it isn’t like that between us.” I looked at him. “She has a bit of a crush, but nothing ever happened.” I swallowed. “I only want you.” We kissed again.

“Come upstairs,” I said softly.

“Lisette,” he shook his head, “we can’t. We shouldn’t have earlier.” I looked at him. “I love you, but I’m not a fool. You’re a princess, you’re going to be queen. I’m a soldier, and one with a family that should not be trusted near to you. This isn’t, this can’t be real.” I pressed my face against his chest.

“It’s too late,” I whispered. “It already is real Tristan. Come upstairs, make love to me again. That’s an order.” He laughed.

“It’s a treasonous one,” he mumbled said and kissed my hair. “But it’s such, sweet treason.” I stood up and went to to my room, not looking back but knowing he was following me. He clicked the door shut behind us. I kissed him and everything grew more intense from there. We undressed each other and fell back onto the bed. The rushed passion on the hill gave way to something else here. Tristan was in me again, but as he pushed on top of me with his hips, his hands and mouth tended to the rest of my body, groping, kissing, nibling and generally consuming me. I was responding in kind, finding myself unable to keep my hands from his thighs, his buttocks, my mouth continually finding a spot on his chest that made him exhale and pull me closer to him.

I like that place.

I cried out a few times, until finally he pulled out, finishing with a sweet breath against my ear, whispering my name. I whimpered as he rolled away.

“Tristan,” I said softly. He wrapped his arms around me. “I love you.” He smiled.

“I love you,” he said. “Gods, it feels good to say it.” I smiled.

“Can you promise me something?” I whispered.

“Anything,” he said.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” I said. He brushed my hair out of my face. “It’s what I’ve always been most afraid of, when I become queen, that no one will tell me the truth. No one told my father the truth about Brayton, about his power and the people standing with him, and it got him killed.”

“I will always tell you the truth,” he whispered, “as I see it that is.” I smiled and kissed him. “Lisette,” he whispered again.

“Mm,” I cooed, “I like when you say my name.” He then started saying my name over and over again between kissing me.


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