Page 63 of A Heart Disguised 1

Their kiss deepened, a frenzy of lips and tongues and ragged breaths. As their passion intensified, Darius’ hands slid lower, positioning himself at Robin’s entrance with ease. With a measured thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt, reveling in the tight heat that enveloped him.

Robin’s body tensed, a gasp of pleasure-pain caught in his throat as he adjusted to the intrusion. “You… you’re so…” Robin panted, words failing him.

“Impressive? Magnificent? Utterly irresistible?” Darius supplied helpfully, a roguish grin playing on his lips despite the intense pleasure coursing through him.

Robin let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a moan as Darius began to move. Each thrust was a celebration of the exquisite pleasure that arced between them. Robin’s bodyundulated with sinuous grace, his movements fluid and sensual, perfectly in sync with the duke’s own rhythm. The water around them churned with the intensity of their coupling.

Darius was entranced by the sight of his bride, the way his pale skin glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration, the way his hair fanned out around him like a halo of spun gold. “You’re beautiful,” Darius murmured.

As their passion spiraled ever higher, Darius found himself captivated not just by the physical beauty of the boy in his arms, but by the fierce spirit that shone through those bright-green eyes. Robin was a delightful paradox—a combination of courage and vulnerability, of innocence and burgeoning sensuality that Darius found utterly addictive.

With each powerful stroke, Darius drove them both closer to the brink, the air filled with the sounds of their mingled cries and the slap of water against the marble sides of the pool. Robin’s body clenched around him, a sure indication that his bride was teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

With a cry that echoed off the marble walls, Robin came undone, his climax triggering Darius’ own. They clung to each other as waves of pleasure washed over them, their bodies trembling in the aftermath of their shared passion.

As the waves of pleasure slowly receded, Darius gathered Robin close, pressing a tender kiss to the boy’s damp forehead. “Well,” he murmured, a hint of his usual playfulness returning to his voice, “I do believe we’ve thoroughly explored the art ofcleaningeach other. Shall we try for another lesson?”

Robin’s cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink as he shook his head, squirming in Darius’ arms. “I fear I might melt away entirely if we continue at this rate, my lord.”

A rich, hearty laugh escaped Darius’ lips, the sound resonating through the bathing chamber like distant thunder. “Then I shall simply have to ensure you’re well-fortified, mybride,” he declared, standing from the pool. Water cascaded off their entwined bodies in rivulets, and Robin’s arms instinctively tightened around his neck.

“The towels, my lord,” Robin reminded him with a soft smile. “Lest we leave a trail of water to rival the Elysian River.”

“Indeed, we must not flood the castle on our wedding night. That would certainly put a damper on our… festivities.” He set Robin down gently, allowing him to fetch the towels, though his eyes never left the enticing sight of his new bride, dripping wet and flushed from their exertions.

Back in the sanctuary of their bedchamber, Darius deliberately steered them toward the plush area rug before the hearth, bypassing the bed entirely. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across Robin’s pale skin, creating an ethereal display that rivaled the finest art in Argentum Keep.

“Is this supposed to be more romantic?” Robin asked, his voice carrying that delightful blend of skepticism and curiosity.

“It is indeed,” Darius confirmed, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. He took up one of the towels and began to dry Robin with deliberate slowness, each stroke of the fabric an excuse to map the contours of his bride’s body. The way Robin’s breath hitched whenever Darius’ fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot was nothing short of intoxicating.

When it came time to dry himself, Robin’s hand shot out to snatch the second towel before Darius could reach it. “I’ll do it,” he declared.

Darius watched with poorly concealed amusement as Robin’s hands began their exploration under the pretense of drying him off. The boy’s fingers seemed to have developed a fascinating tendency to stray from their assigned task, trailing along the ridges and planes of Darius’ torso with barely disguised wonder.

“How long did it take you to get this chiseled?” Robin asked, his fingertips skimming along the defined ridges of Darius’ abdomen in a way that was entirely too distracting.

“Not long,” Darius replied with deliberate casualness, enjoying the way Robin’s eyes narrowed at his response.

“Must be a demon thing,” Robin muttered, though his hands continued their thorough exploration of Darius’ chest, seemingly at odds with his dismissive tone.

“Perhaps it’s just a Darius thing,” he countered, watching with no small measure of satisfaction as Robin’s fingers traced the contours of his muscles. “After all, not all demons are built the same.”

Robin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on Darius’ torso. “You’re right. Caelum doesn’t have the same… stature. Despite your shared blood.”

“Indeed,” Darius mused, an odd note entering his voice at the mention of his younger brother. “The peculiarities of demon genetics can be… unpredictable. Even with the same parentage.” His voice shifted then, deepening to a purr as he caught Robin’s wandering hands in his own, enjoying how quickly they could move from such serious topics to more… pleasurable pursuits. “But enough about my brother. Tell me, my dear wife, do you like what you see?”

“I’ve seen finer sculptures in the castle gardens,” Robin replied with such obvious insincerity that Darius had to bite back a laugh. The boy’s attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by his wandering gaze and flushed cheeks.

“How fortunate that I am flesh and blood rather than cold marble,” Darius countered, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “And my face? Does that meet with your discerning approval?”

“Perhaps marginally better than a gargoyle’s,” Robin murmured, though his quickening breath and dilated pupils told a far different tale.

“Ah, but gargoyles serve a noble purpose, my dear—they ward off evil spirits,” Darius drawled, his voice dropping to a velvet purr. “Though I seem to be doing a poor job of it, as I’ve utterly failed to ward off a particularly bewitching little trespasser who’s stolen into my heart.” He tightened his hold on Robin’s waist, drawing him closer still. “I suppose I shall have to console myself with being a failed gargoyle, though I must confess, I find myself quite enchanted with both my wife’s body and face—far surpassing any garden statue or celestial being I’ve encountered in all my centuries.”

Without warning, he claimed Robin’s lips in a passionate kiss. The initial resistance was delicious—a token protest that lasted mere seconds before Robin melted against him like snow in summer. Those delicate arms wound their way around his shoulders, pulling him closer as their tongues engaged in an intimate dance.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Robin’s eyes had taken on that wonderfully dazed quality that Darius was quickly becoming addicted to. But there was something else in that emerald gaze—a spark of curiosity that made Darius’ lips twitch with anticipation.

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