Page 54 of The Beauty and His Beast

The old man asked Camdyn, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Camdyn replied. “I am his love. I am his husband. And he is mine.”

“But you married a man, not a king.”

“He is the same. A king is merely a man, and this man is my husband.”

“And why are you here, Camdyn?”

“To stand by his side—to be his support and comfort for as long as God wills it.”

The priest said, “Then kneel, prince consort, and receive God’s blessing.”

Camdyn knelt. The stone floor was cool against his skin. Everild gently removed his sheer, delicate cloak. Everild had been stripped to the waist. Camdyn just had his shoulders and arms bare, but even so, it made him blush with embarrassment. His face was warm when the priest drew a line of the sweet, rose-scented oil across his forehead, along each shoulder and collarbone. “May you have many, many joyous years together.”

And then it was finished—Everild replaced his cloak, and a smaller, silver crown was placed on top of Camdyn’s curls.

“Rise, prince consort, and greet your king.”

Before Camdyn could even fully stand, Everild had him in his arms. His hands pressed against Everild’s chest as his husband grabbed his hips, and his lips found Camdyn’s. “My love,” his husband murmured against his mouth. “Camdyn.”

There was, perhaps, another cheer. More celebration, more cries and chants of support. Camdyn didn’t notice them, if there were any. All he could hear was the sound of his heart, beating frantically in his chest, and Everild’s voice, low and rough, whispering sweet words in his ear.

The people’s king, yes.

But Camdyn's husband.

???

They eschewed dinner to whet an appetite of a different kind in the bedchamber.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Everild moaned against his neck. When Camdyn made a shy, noncommittal noise, he growled, “You are. You’re the most beautiful person in the world. And you let me kiss you and touch you like this.” His husband slipped a hand between his legs and rubbed his cock.

Camdyn ground against Everild’s palm. Blushing, he responded, “I love you, Everild—I want you to touch me.”

“I love you, too.”

And he did. It was so obvious—Everild looked at him not just as though Camdyn was actually the most beautiful person in the world—an overstatement by a besotted husband, surely—but as if there was no one but Camdyn. As if Camdyn was the most important person to him. When they were like this—there was only ever warmth and comfort in his expression, only ever love.

Camdyn wanted to show him the same thing, if he could. He said softly, “Everild, I want—I want all of you tonight.”

His husband’s eyes widened. “Camdyn—are you certain? This isn’t—just because I’m king now doesn’t mean you have to—I love what we have now—”

“I know,” Camdyn replied. “But, Everild—I wanted this. When we were apart, I couldn’t stand it. I missed you all the time—your lips and your hands—and now we’re together again, and I want us to become one. I need to know how you feel inside me.”

Everild swallowed and nodded. His face flushed red. “If that’s what you want. But we’ll go slowly. And if you’re uncomfortable or in pain, you must tell me, and I’ll stop. It should never hurt, Camdyn.”

“It won’t. I know it won’t, Everild, because you’d never hurt me.”

Something extraordinarily tender flickered across Everild’s face. “I love you,” he said again.

The bed was plush, the blankets warm and soft. As he undressed and waited for Everild to return with the oil, Camdyn rubbed against them and sighed, enjoying the way they felt on his bare skin.

“Are you ready?”

At Everild’s voice, he sat up, blushing. “Yes, Everild.”

“Okay.” His husband was naked and half-hard already, but he looked nervous. He held a small jar in his hand. It trembled slightly. “Lie back for me?”

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