Page 32 of The Beauty and His Beast

With that, Everild’s mind raced again, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He simply nodded, trying to mask the relief that began to wash over him. “Of course,” he said, distracted. “My thanks to you.”

The garden. The garden. His feet moved faster than his mind could catch up, his steps light with sudden hope as he made his way through the back corridors and out into the lush, green expanse that surrounded the castle. The air was fresh with the scent of earth and leaves, and the soft hum of morning birds greeted him as he stepped into the garden.

And there, kneeling among the rows of tenderly cared-for plants, was Camdyn. His husband was covered in dirt, his fingers stained from the soil as he worked carefully at the bed ofgarlic and onions. Everild stopped in his tracks, a smile breaking across his face. "Camdyn!" he called, his voice breaking the stillness of the morning.

At the sound of his name, Camdyn looked up, his face lighting up with an expression of pure joy. “Everild, look! They’ve sprouted!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike wonder as he pointed at the soil, where tiny green buds had broken through the earth’s surface.

The sight filled Everild with warmth—relief, yes, but also something deeper. This was their future. Together, in this small garden, with hands in the dirt, growing something together. He moved to Camdyn’s side, kneeling beside him and reaching out to touch the budding shoots. “It looks beautiful,” Everild murmured, his heart swelling.

Camdyn chattered excitedly as Everild inspected the garden. “Oh, I could make you onion soup. With cheese and fresh bread, of course,” Camdyn continued, his tone light. “What do you think we should grow next year? Maybe some wild strawberries and raspberries? Those would go so well with oatmeal. And custard. Or perhaps pears, Everild. What about pears?”

The garden was only the beginning of their life together. A life filled with shared moments, with simple joys—Camdyn’s laughter, his cooking, his presence. The thought of it overwhelmed Everild, filling him with an emotion he could not name but recognized as love in its truest, deepest form.

Everild turned to his husband, his voice low but filled with devotion. “Yes. Whatever you want. Just ask. All you have to do is ask, and I’ll make it happen. Whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Camdyn smiled, a soft, contented smile. “I know,” he said. “I am. Everything you do makes me happy, Everild.”

Everild’s heart hammered in his chest as he looked at his husband, desire and adoration filling him. “What do I do? Tell me, please. I want to know.”

Camdyn nuzzled against him, his eyes filled with affection. “How you protect me. How you listen to me. How you look at me... Like that!” He laughed, his fingers brushing over Everild’s lips, as if he could not bear to stay still in the face of such warmth. “And how you kiss me—“

“You like how I kiss?” Everild asked, his voice thick with emotion. He brushed his beard against Camdyn’s neck, pressing close. “That makes you happy? I can do that all the time.” He kissed the soft skin of his husband’s shoulder, his neck, and then his jaw, his lips savoring the touch of his husband’s skin.

The two of them tumbled together into the grass, their laughter ringing through the garden as they kissed and tangled in the earth. Everild kissed Camdyn’s forehead, his nose, his cheeks, each touch igniting more laughter from his husband. It was a moment of pure joy—a moment that could have lasted forever.

But then, as Everild shifted to better accommodate his aching leg—a reminder of the war, an old injury that never quite healed—Camdyn’s knee brushed accidentally against his groin. It was light, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a surge of heat through Everild’s body. He instinctively moved toward the sensation, his body reacting before his mind could fully catch up. Camdyn’s laughter faltered, his gaze shifting between Everild’s face and his lower body, surprise widening his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Everild rasped, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean—“

But his husband, ever gentle, slowly moved his leg along Everild’s inner thighs, urging him to continue. “Kiss me again?” Camdyn asked, his voice soft, almost pleading. “Please?”

A low, broken moan escaped Everild’s throat. He leaned down, his hands on either side of Camdyn’s face as their lips met, deep and urgent. The kiss was raw and real, their shared breath the only sound that filled the air as they sank into each other. Everild tasted Camdyn—just Camdyn, the man he loved—letting the kiss consume them both, savoring every moment of it.

When they pulled away, Camdyn’s face was flushed, his lips swollen and red, his eyes dark with desire. “Back to bed?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper. Everild nodded, his heart racing.

???

Camdyn didn't stop giggling on their way to their bedchamber. They rushed past servants, who saw them careening towards them and politely stepped out of the way and bowed, but they were addressing empty space by the time they managed to say, “Good morning, my lords.”

They took the steps of the stairs two at a time. His husband was panting and laughing when they got to the top, so Everild scooped him into his arms and carried him to their bedchamber.

The expressions of the guards posted outside their door did not change; they were too well-disciplined for that. The only indication that the men knew what was about to happen inside the room was their slowly reddening faces.

“We’re not to be disturbed,” Everild commanded as a now-blushing Camdyn buried his face in the crook of his neck. “Feel free to stretch your legs, but let one of the maids know to prepare hot water for a bath.”

“Do you have any idea when, ah, when you’ll be needing it, my lord?” one of the men asked.

Everild admitted, “It could be some time.” Camdyn let out a little gasp that had the guards’ eyes darting to his bare shoulder before resolutely moving back to Everild. “Just have them keep it hot.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The click of the door shutting and locking was like a song in itself. Everild kissed Camdyn’s forehead once more and gently set him down. “Let’s undress?” he asked.

His husband nodded and shyly turned away to unlace his boots and disrobe.

Everild did the same with much less decorum. He pulled off his tunic and threw it over his desk chair. He shucked off his own boots, shoving them underneath the desk. Then he unlaced his trousers and stepped out of them. He had already been half-hard in the garden. Now, the thought that in a few moments he would have his husband naked and spread out on the blankets, panting and moaning against him, had his cock swollen and aching with need.

Camdyn sat on the bed, completely nude and absolutely lovely and extremely nervous. He took one look at Everild’s erection and paled, asking, “Everild, how am I supposed to fit all of you inside me?”

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