He shifts slightly beneath me, stroking a hand down my back, more tender now. “You’d be good at it. Tending the flowers. Enjoying the quiet.”
I glance up at him. “What about you? If you could go back would you do something different?”
He hesitates. “No. But I’d like to train the next generation. Like my father. Help the boys who don’t know where they belonged. Give them something solid to hold onto.”
“You do that now,” I say softly.
He doesn’t answer right away, just runs his fingers up and down my back slowly as he considers my words. “Yeah. But sometimes I wonder if there’s more I could be. If I could… choose something for myself instead of just inheriting a path.”
I press a kiss to his chest. “Maybe we both deserve a little choosing.”
He goes quiet at that, but his grip around me tightens. And I feel it again—that possibility. That tentative reaching for a future neither of us thought we could have.
“You always slept on your side in the field,” he murmurs after a while.
I smile against his skin. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything.”
“You always made the tea too strong,” I tease.
“You liked it that way.”
Our gazes catch. “You let me pretend I wasn’t in control.”
His lips twist into a knowing grin. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Far more than I should have.” I settle back into him. “What do we do now?”
He brushes his thumb along my jaw. “Let’s take it one day at a time. There’s no rush, Leo.”
The knot in my chest loosens, just a little. He doesn’t push for more, just stays beside me, offering quiet support.
Needing to lighten the mood, I poke his side. “I’m not giving you a sash.”
“Not even one shaped like a?—”
“Don’t.”
His grin is wicked. “A ceremonial sword, Leo. I was going to say sword.”
I lift a brow. “Oh, I’ll give you a sword.” Then I roll on top of him.
He laughs as I straddle his hips, the movement sending sheets tumbling. “Is this how knights are forged now?”
I pin his wrists to the bed. “It is if you want the fast-track to noble honours.”
He bucks beneath me, play-wrestling until we’re tangled in limbs and laughter. I end up kissing him mid-laugh, silencing him with my mouth as our bodies fall back into perfect, heated rhythm.
I shift down, pressing kisses along his chest and down toward his abdomen, slow and purposeful.
“Leo…”
I look up at him, wicked now. “Let me show you my favourite position.” My hand snakes between us to fist his cock. “I call it... the Royal Salute.”
He groans, one hand fisting in my hair to shove me down.
Chuckling, I pause to nip at his hipbone, the inside of his thigh—making him squirm. By the time I reach his cock, he’s already hard.
