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Mel had been able to tell for the last several miles that Sir Frank was injured. He was wincing at nearly every footfall of their horse, his body tensing even despite the layers of armor and cloaks between them. She could feel him guarding behind her, shallow breaths with every harsh footfall that they felt.
It had all happened faster than Mel could notice. The attack had been quick, an arrow whizzing through the air and into the side of her carriage, the thick wood crumbling to shards from the force of the arrow. The horses had scattered, terrified and escaping from their reins, causing her carriage to nearly crash off the side of the path. And then they had all been upon them.
The bandits, all clothed in black with paints covering their faces and wicked blades, had come out of the cover of the forest and snuck upon them like shadows. They were quick, too quick for even the most experienced knights that had been escorting Mel.
It had been a blur for her. The other knights in their party - whose names she unfortunately hadn’t even known - had fallen to protect her. She had watched as it had happened, as arrows had sunk through chinks in armor or daggers had been thrown. She distantly wondered if it would ever leave the back of her eyelids when she closed her eyes.
She’d never seen bloodshed like that, red and cruel and vicious, all spilled out in front of her on the grass.
But, through all of that - a shining light.
Sir Frank had been her sworn knight since she was a girl. He had come from a noble family, her father had said. One that was close to the crown, with a long line of sworn knights and shields. He had been just a boy, barely six and ten, and had been by her side since then.
Where the rest of the knights in the palace were stern and quiet, Sir Frank was softer. More boyish - sometimes with a quick bite of wit, or a smile at one of Mel’s quips, and he was always there whenever she needed something. She had long ago grown used to the sound of his armor, the cadence of his footfalls and even the sounds of his quiet breaths outside of the doors to her chambers.
Some foolish part of her had felt feelings for him when they were young. He was young, only a year or two older than Mel, and he had been kind and funny and gods, he was handsome. He had been tall and skinnier at that time, before he grew more muscle and widened out. With thick black hair and eyes that shined as bright as the sea, Mel had laid in her chambers at night and daydreamed about him. About the sound of his voice, and the strong grip he’d have on his sword when he sparred in the courtyard, and the way that his thighs rippled when he rode a horse.
But Mel was a princess, and he was a knight, and she knew that one day she would be expected to marry. She would marry a prince, and Sir Frank would always be by her side. Her sworn shield, protector for life.
He had cut through the bandits, sword bloodied and cheeks splattered with red, and when nothing but corpses lay around him, he’d pulled Mel into his arms and held her as she wept.
He hadn’t allowed her long with her tears, and after gathering as much of their supplies from the ruined carriage, had gathered her up and set her on their remaining horse with him.
He had picked her up so easily, hands under her arms, as if she’d weighed nothing. Mud and specks of blood covered the light green material of her gown, a large rip through the bottom of it. He’d sat on the saddle behind her, the warmth from his body pressing up against her, and she’d shivered at the touch of his body so close to hers. Her hands had trembled against the pommel of the saddle as they had rode - fast, the wind whipping through her hair.
“We should find somewhere to set up camp,” she finally spoke, miles later. Her voice was hoarse from not using it. The sun had started to dip down in the sky, almost falling beneath the landscape of forest ahead of them. What had been light blue - almost the same color as her knight’s eyes - had now turned almost purplish, like a bruise.
“It’s not safe out here, Your Highness,” his deep voice spoke behind her, hands tightening on the reins on either side of her. Early evening sunlight was reflecting off of his armor like tiny mirrors. “We’ll keep riding until we find a village.”
“No,” she said, turning as much as she could in the cage of his arms. “You’re hurt. We can make camp in the woods.”
Sir Frank looked down at her, his eyes a deep blue in the rapidly escaping light. There was a large bruise forming under his left eye, a small cut on the bridge of his nose. Sweat beaded at his hairline. He offered her a small smirk, humor lacing his tone, as he spoke. “Your Highness. I think that this goes without saying, but the woods aren’t typically the safest place to set up camp.”
Mel glared at him. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” he said, setting his jaw and looking at the road ahead of them. “I just want to ensure that you’re safe. And camping in the woods is not how I would ensure that my oath to you remains.”
Mel turned in his arms again, staring at his face. His hard jaw, long nose, thick black eyelashes. Every part of his face was familiar to her, one that she knew almost as well as she knew her own.
“Your oath is to protect me,” she said. “And you cannot fulfill your oath if you’re injured. I demand, as your princess, that we stop and set up camp.”
And some small part of her hated using that - her title. Even though it sat between them like a ship’s anchor, a reminder of the vast differences between the two of them, she had never treated him as if he was anything other than her equal.
And she could tell that it had worked. There was a flash of indignation in his eyes. He clenched his jaw as he nodded, and he turned their horse off of the path and towards the rapidly darkening woods ahead of them.
Mel had always been comfortable in the woods. She’d grown up exploring them with her father and sister, collecting different rocks and sticks and watching the birds and other creatures. The darkness beyond the trees and the distant sounds had never scared her.
Even now, as the fire that Sir Frank had built crackled in front of them, and darkness had flooded in and surrounded them, she didn’t feel scared.
Warm light lit up a circle around them. It danced across the ground, the abstract patterns of tree bark and foliage visible. Acrid smoke filled the air, from the quickly burning branches and leaves that he had used to make their fire. Mel found herself staring down into the fire, watching it lick and dance across the wood, and looked up as Sir Frank’s familiar footfalls walked back into their circle of light.
He dropped an armful of wood down at the edge of their small clearing, and she saw him wincing as he did. Mel furrowed her brow, eyes tracking over his body to try to find a wound. But he was covered in armor, some flecks of blood that could’ve been his or one of the bandit’s, and she couldn’t see anything on him.
“You’re hurt,” she said again. She stood up from where she had been sitting in the dirt, brushing leaves and dirt off of her dress.
“I’m fine,” he said, his tone gruff. “I need to go find you something to drink, we only have a small flask of water. And I’ll need to hunt for something for you to eat, Your Highness.”
Mel intertwined her hands in front of her. She shook her head, nodding towards an overturned tree trunk at the edge of their circle of light. The warmth of the fire was hot against her side, her skin sweaty and sticky. She stepped away from the fire.
“Sit down, please,” she said. “You’re hurt. Please, let me help you.”
He clenched his jaw, clearly weighing something back and forth. Mel had known him for so long, and seen so many expressions on his face, and had a hard time figuring this one out.
“Princess,” he said, voice low, and Mel felt a zing of something up her spine. “I’m fine.”
“Sit down, Langdon,” Mel said, and she could see the look of surprise in his face at her using his surname. It was common for some people to call their sworn shields by their surnames rather than firsts, but Mel had never called him by that. It had always been Sir Frank. And Frank - in her dreams, and mind as she laid in bed at night, mind thinking of him as he stood vigil outside her door.
Part of Mel thought that they were going to stay like that all night - at war with each other, neither of them willing to wave their white flag. But then something deflated in her knight, and he sat down on the log in front of the fire, his armor softly clanking as he did. He winced again as he sat, his face twisting up in pain.
Mel fiddled with her fingers, unsure of what to do with her fingers. She watched as he lifted his arms, reaching up for the clasps that met at his arms and shoulders of his armor. His face was tense with pain, hisses escaping between his teeth as he tried to catch the clasp with his fingers.
Mel moved before she could think twice, and walked behind him. The glare from the fire was so bright against his armor, and she had to look away. She focused on the task in front of her.
She reached out for one of the clasps, his armor cold against her fingertips. She could visibly see him tense as she touched the armor, their skin not even touching but her feeling like she had touched a bolt of lightning with her fingertips.
“Your Highness-”
“Please,” Mel said, and her voice was so soft. The forest was quiet around them. “Just let me help you.”
Something must’ve deflated in him at her words, because he nodded and lowered his arms. She could feel each one of his breaths, big inhales and shuddering exhales.
Mel brought her fingers to the clasps of his armor again. They were delicate, and hooked into one another at each of the hinges of his armor. As she unhooked them, the plates came apart. She set the first plate from his shoulder and right arm on the ground, careful to gently set them down in the dirt.
“You don’t have to be gentle with them,” Sir Frank said, his voice thick with something that Mel hadn’t ever heard. “They’ll be fine.”
Mel nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, and went back to work on the latches. As she pulled off piece by piece, she got faster at undoing the clasps. He wore a thick tunic underneath his armor, almost a leather type of material. It had buttons and straps in the front, and even though Sir Frank lifted his hands to undo the buttons himself, Mel shook her head and reached for them herself.
She was standing in front of him now, her body creating a shadow against his from the fire. She could feel his eyes on her as she undid the straps on the front of his tunic, the thick material falling apart to reveal his thinner white shirt underneath. His skin was warm, warmer than the fire behind her.
Mel’s hands began to tremble as the thick leathery tunic came off of his arms. He winced again as his arm slipped out of the left side, and then she saw it - red. Blood, seeping from his left side, not actively spreading but caked on and thick over the white material.
She could see a rip in the shirt, the material torn and cut through, and the flesh underneath was too thickly covered in blood for her to see.
“I can take care of it myself, Your Highness,” Sir Frank spoke, and Mel realized that she was still standing so close to the knight. His knees had parted for her, now on either side of her hips, and her cheeks flushed at the position they were in. “This isn’t something for a Princess to be doing.”
“And since when have you ever told me what I should and shouldn’t do?” Mel smiled at him, waiting for his own joke or jab back at her, and found his blue eyes wandering her face. “You’ve never cared what I’m supposed to do.”
“This is different, Princess,” Sir Frank said, his voice soft. He was still tense, guarded. The fire flickered against his face, his chest. She couldn’t see much through the white material of his shirt, the neckline coated in sweat and sticking to his chest. “This is… It’s improper.”
Mel nodded. He was right. She’d never seen her knight in anything other than his armor, his royal tunics for the balls or other official events, but never in anything other than that. It was unheard of, an easy way for him to lose his head if the King found out.
Mel backed away from him then, nodding again as she cleared her throat.
“You’re right,” she said. She ducked away, rifling through the bag of supplies he’d managed to save from the carriage. It was sparse - some coins, a bag of tinctures and serums, another sack that had apples, hard cheese and bread, and their flask of water. She grabbed the water, a cloth and the bag of medical supplies. She knew there wasn’t much in there, but she hoped for a salve or ointment that would help.
Mel walked back over to her knight, kneeling in the dirt next to his left side. She set the things she had grabbed on the log next to him, and looked at him. His face was pale, a bead of sweat dripping down the long line of his jaw.
“It is improper,” she said. “But as I said, you are my sworn shield and protector. And that was not only an oath that you took, but one that I took as well. I think it’s only fair that I can protect you too. So let me help you. Please.”
His eyes searched over her face. She didn’t know what they were looking for. She was sure that she was quite the sight - a princess, kneeling in the dirt and covered in mud and blood. She could feel strands of her hair that had escaped her braid, pasted to the side of her face with sweat and blood. She had dirt under her fingernails, and rips in her dress, and she knew that her mother’s heart would probably stop if she saw her.
But then he nodded, and he found whatever he was looking for on her face. “Okay.”
With gentle hands, Mel leaned forward and undid the buttons on the front of his shirt. The material was scratchy against her hands. It was light though, barely there, and it fell open as she reached the last button.
The firelight lit up his frame, and she found her eyes falling to his chest. His skin was pale, like snow, and dotted with constellations of freckles and moles. Thick black hair covered his chest and created a path down his stomach, disappearing down beneath the waistline of his trousers. Mel’s cheeks heated as her eyes explored over the planes of his chest, lithe muscles covering his chest and stomach.
She ignored the racing of her own heart as she gently pulled each side of the shirt apart, tugging it gently down off of his shoulders. With each inch of the shirt that was removed, more of the pale expanse of his skin was revealed. She found herself counting each freckle as it was revealed, her fingers itching to reach out and touch.
The shirt fell to the side, Mel’s eyes taking in every inch of Sir Frank’s skin. He was still skinny, but muscular. His arms, covered in dark hair over his forearms, were thick with muscles. Her eyes caught on his upper arms, and his wide shoulders, down to the taper of his waist and the miles and miles of skin in between.
Between the freckles and moles were scars. Some small ones, some like little knife pricks or cuts, and others larger and more jagged. They were a soft pink color, almost silvery under the glimmering light from the fire.
Mel inhaled, a shaky breath that stung against her chapped lips, and pushed her gaze down to his left side. He was breathing shallowly, his chest barely moving as he inhaled. Mel couldn’t get herself to look up at his face.
The wound on his side wasn’t as bad as she had expected. It was a shallow cut, the skin bloodied and bruised around it. Most of the blood had clotted, thick and almost black. Mel’s stomach twisted as she looked at the gash on his side. Not in the way that it should, because she was a princess and princesses didn’t see things like this - princesses were supposed to swoon, to shy away from exposed skin and blood and everything improper. But because she couldn’t stomach the thought of him being hurt, almost like a phantom pain in her own side, and her eyes couldn’t move away from his skin.
She had found a thick cloth in their bag, one that was wrapped around the chunks of bread they had, and she poured some of the water on it. It soaked into the material and dripped through to her fingers. She reached forward to dab the cloth against his skin, and he tensed and let out a pained groan at her touch. He had almost moved away from her touch, but he let himself lean back into it as she didn’t move.
His skin felt hot, even through the material of the cloth. She tried to wipe gently at the skin, but he tensed and hissed at each of her movements, a pained expression on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She removed the cloth, the white now stained pink, and poured water onto a new corner. She cleaned the edges of the wound as gently as she could, biting down on her bottom lip in focus.
“I-It’s okay, Your Highness,” Sir Frank said, his voice thick and barely recognizable. He had lifted his left arm, his muscles tensed in it as he held it up. “I still think-”
“Shut up,” Mel said. She could picture the smirk on his face as she said it, and didn’t dare a look up at him.
She wrung out the cloth, pink tinged water dripping into the dirt in front of her knees. She opened one of the jars of salves, a minty and herby smell coming out of it, and dipped her fingers into it. It felt cool to the touch.
“This should help,” she said softly. She reached forward and touched her fingers to his side, spreading the salve across the wound. His skin was so warm, and she felt it like a shock against her skin as they touched. A quiet, punched-out sound escaped from his lips, and Mel felt something warm pool in her belly at the sound.
Her fingers shook as she pulled her hand back. She felt so warm all over, warmer than she had felt when she was too close to the fire.
“We… we should bandage it,” she said, and dared a look up at Sir Frank’s face.
All of his features were so brightly illuminated by the fire. It danced against his skin, painting him in hues of yellow and orange. And yet his blue eyes looked so much darker than normal, the blue almost completely swallowed up by black.
Mel felt held down to the ground by his gaze, like she was unable to move.
But then, as quickly as she had been pulled in by his expression and rendered useless, he spoke and brought her back into her body.
“My shirt,” he said. “We can use pieces of that, if we need.”
She nodded, and reached over for the discarded material. Her hands were still shaking.
“Let me, my lady,” he spoke again, and held out a hand for the shirt. Mel, whose mind was at least several minutes behind and working at a pace like molasses, handed the stained shirt over. She jumped as if she’d been shocked when their fingers brushed, his burning touch against her cold one.
Sir Frank grimaced as he ripped apart the fabric, and Mel’s eyes caught on the thick muscles in his upper arms as they rippled and moved. And then he tore a long strip off of the shirt, handing it over to Mel in his palm.
She readily took the strip of fabric from him, keeping her fingers from touching his skin, and braced herself.
“This will probably hurt,” she said, and her knight lifted his arms. He placed them on either side of his head, his arms flexing as he looked down at her. His dark eyelashes were downturned, shadowing his eyes.
Mel pressed the end of the torn fabric to his wounded skin, and felt him tense beneath her touch. She held it in place with one hand while she wrapped it around his abdomen, leaning close to wrap her arms around his wide frame. He groaned from somewhere deep in his throat as she tightened the wrap, tying it around itself and securing it to his abdomen. Short and shallow breaths were escaping through his mouth, his breath hot on her hairline. It made her feel hot all over, the bodice of her gown too tight.
Her eyes couldn’t look away. She felt like she needed to look while she could, like the nighttime had sped up and she was racing against the sun rising again in the sky. The cover of the trees and nighttime felt like a shroud over them, like they were in their own little corner of the world.
“You’re beautiful,” Mel said, and the words had slipped out before she could even stop them. They had been sitting on her tongue for years, threatening to spill out at any moment - in the corridors of the castle, across the room during a ball, in the gardens.
Sir Frank’s breath hitched, a loud sound that made her heart pound harder in her chest. It sounded so loud in comparison to the silence of the forest around them.
“Princess,” he breathed, looking down at her. Mel froze, realizing that her hands were still touching him. His muscles were tense underneath her touch, his skin warm. She could feel each breath that he took. “I…”
She nodded, suddenly flushing and sitting back on her heels. She removed her hands. They felt like they were burning. She tried to still them against her gown, focusing on the smooth material beneath her palms.
“I’m sorry,” Mel answered, her voice unfamiliar to her own ears. She could hear her pulse roaring in her ears, like the sound of the ocean during a storm. “Excuse me, Sir. That was inappropriate.”
For a moment, all she could hear was their breaths. His, rough and ragged, sounding almost painful coming out of him. And hers, so loud in her own ears, the sound of them and her heartbeat the loudest sounds she’d ever heard, like a pounding war drum or the throes of a raging thunderstorm.
“Your Highness,” he said, and Mel swallowed as she looked up at him. At her knight. She still knelt in the dirt, small rocks digging into her knees. He was barely sitting higher than her, his eyes nearly even with hers. “We… I’m your sworn shield. I’ve taken a vow to do nothing but protect you. To give my life for yours if needed.”
Mel nodded, carefully getting to her feet again and brushing dirt off of herself again. “You’ve done nothing but fulfill your vow-”
“And Your Highness, it’s taken everything within me to do that,” he said, his voice sounding wrecked. “To only see you as that; as my duty, as the Crown Princess. To not think of you in a way that a knight should not think of his princess. To control myself at balls, when princes and other men throw themselves at you, dance with you, get to hear your laugh.”
The roaring in Mel’s chest and head ceased - replaced with utter silence.
“Every day, I want to break my vow to you. Every day, I do break my vow to you, to the Crown. To protect you, to keep you from harm, to do everything in my ability to ensure the Crown’s safety. I break it every day because I wish for nothing more than to not be your knight.”
Mel’s breath caught in her throat at the first touch of his fingers against her hand. He had reached forward, hand reaching for hers, and was cradling her small hand in his palm. His fingers, so much larger than hers, delicately traced along the lines on the inside of her palm. She shivered at his touch. His fingers moved higher, up her palm and along the delicate bones on her wrist. He gently touched the lace at the end of her sleeve.
“Your knight shouldn’t think of you the way that I do,” Sir Frank breathed, his voice heavy and thick. “Shouldn’t linger on every glance, every smile, every strand of hair that curls just the way it does. Every freckle that shows up when the sun comes out.”
His fingers had moved up her arm. Even through the thin material of her gown, she could feel the warmth of his touch. His fingers danced along her inner arm, tracing a circle around the inside of her elbow. She shuddered at the touch, shivers running up and down her spine. She didn’t know when, but she had moved closer, nearly standing between his legs again.
“I should be beheaded for even speaking these words to you,” he breathed. Mel couldn’t look down at his face, and stared at the expanse of his shoulders. The pale skin there, how his muscles moved as he continued to drag his fingers up her arm. “For feeling the way that I feel about you. But I do, Princess. You almost died today, and I couldn’t find myself caring at all about the rest of my men dying. I thought that I would die if anything even happened to you.”
His fingers traced along the seam of her gown along her arm. They delicately touched along her underarm, and she gasped out a breath as they barely ghosted over the outside of her breast. He smirked, the bastard, and touched a finger to her waist. Even that touch made her entire body feel like it was on fire.
“And now, here I am,” he chuckled. “If I ever was to be a dead man walking. This is me walking up to the gallows.”
His palm wrapped around her waist, hot and warm through her gown, and she gasped at his touch. It was as if he had burned away the fabric of her gown, his touch searing. Her body imperceptibly moved closer to his.
Mel finally allowed herself to look down at her knight’s face. His face was completely upturned towards hers, eyes hooded and shadowed from the flickering lights. His lips, rosy pink, were parted and glistening. There was a red flush to his cheeks, his eyes glittering.
Mel didn’t know what expression he found on her face, but the warmth suddenly left her body as his hand dropped from her waist. She could still feel the echo of his touch there, like a ghost. He cleared his throat, an expression she’d never seen before passing over his face, before he blinked a few times.
“Excuse me, Your Highness,” he said, his voice even sounding different than it had moments before. “I apologize. It must be the injury getting to me, I’ve spoken out of turn. I’m so sorry.”
But Mel couldn’t ignore the warmth and heaviness in her body, the electricity in her belly and lower, between her legs - the pulsing and aching that was drawing all of the attention in her body.
She grasped at his cheeks, the stubble beneath her palms rough and scratchy against her sensitive skin. She surged forward to capture his lips with hers, and felt like the world fell out from beneath her feet.
He seemed frozen underneath her touch for a moment, only a second. As if he had to catch up to what had happened, to her sudden movement. But as soon as he did, his hands reached back up to grasp at her waist and pull her closer.
At the first movement of his lips, it felt like the ground was spinning underneath her. She clung to his touch, to the feeling of his lips, firm and hot against her own, and his palms against her waist. Though she felt like her veins were filled with fire, and she could hear the pounding of her pulse in her ears again, his lips were almost… gentle against hers. Languid and slow, as if there was nothing rushing them. As if there was nothing else in the world other than kissing her.
He tasted like smoke. Her palms still cradled his face, fingertips brushing against the silky ends of his hair, the sharp curve of his jaw, his earlobe. He turned, angling his lips against hers and capturing her bottom lip between his. A brush of teeth, and then his tongue - hot and sweet - gently licking across where he had nipped at her.
At his touch, she parted her lips, and felt like a roaring fire erupted in her chest. Her tongue met his, dragged across his bottom lip, and a desperate, punched-out noise escaped from his throat. He tightened his grip on her waist. It was like an iron grip, but his hands hadn’t strayed from their spot.
Mel gasped and pulled apart from the kiss. It had been bruising, stealing the breath from her lungs. They still kept their foreheads resting together, Mel standing slightly taller than him, and their breath mingled between them. Her hands shook where they held his face, one of her hands on the back of his neck now, twisted up into the sweaty strands of hair.
Her other hand moved down to the side of his neck, where she could feel his own pulse mimicking the racing beat of her own. His own blood, roaring like a raging river under his skin. He trembled slightly at her touch.
“I’ve always…” Mel started, her voice shaky and uneven. “I’ve always thought about you. In the mornings when I wake, and at night when I lay in my bed, unable to sleep. I've thought of you.”
Her fingers continued their dangerous path, the pads of her fingers just grazing over the rough skin of his cheek. Her pointer finger caught on his bottom lip and it gave underneath her touch, pillowy and soft. His lips had parted at her touch, and she could feel his breaths against her skin. Every part of Mel felt like she was on fire, and her knight’s skin mimicked her own.
He had frozen under her touch, and Mel mustered up the courage to look into his eyes. The blue threatened to swallow her up, and she held on for dear life.
“I’ve never cared about any of the other princes,” Mel said. “It’s always been you.”
Sir Frank’s eyes sparkled at her admission. Something ticked up in the corner of his mouth, a small smile starting there.
So many smiles, so many looks - all of them filed away in Mel’s memory and flashing before her eyes. And always, repeated through the years, that look in his eyes as he looked up at her. Her knight, her protector.
Mel let herself slip back into his orbit, her hand tightening in his hair and pulling his lips back to hers.
His lips were firm against hers, her own already parting to allow her tongue to brush against his. It was teasing - feather light touches, the tip of his tongue brushing against her bottom lip or her front teeth. Mel tightened her grip in the strands of his hair, tugging on them, and a delicious sound rumbled out of Sir Frank’s throat.
“Princess,” he broke away, panting. His voice was wrecked. “We can’t.”
“Please,” she breathed, shivering against him. She could feel her pulse racing, in her ears and against her teeth and between her legs. “I’ve wanted you for too long.”
At her words, he was a man unleashed. He leaned forward, arms surging around Mel’s body and pulling her close to him. She stumbled slightly in the dirt, but found her balance as her own arms wrapped around his neck. His body was hot against hers, all firm and hard muscle. His palms settled on her lower back, gripping at her skin and pulling her flush against him.
With his head tipped up towards her, Mel captured his lips again in a stinging kiss. This one was harsher than the others, all teeth and tongues and hot, panting breaths against one another. Mel felt like there was a fire burning up in her, and maybe it was burning up in him, too. He nipped at her lip, and she couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her lips at the sting. He groaned in response, a hand sliding down, down, down - over the curve of her rear and down to the hem of her dress. His fingers rucked up the dirtied material, his palm finding the warm outside of her calf and slowly moving upwards.
His lips moved off of hers, open-mouthed kisses being pressed to the corner of her mouth, the hinge of her jaw, down the sensitive side of her neck. She tilted her head up, a black curtain of night sky overhead. Her knight’s lips were searing against her skin, every touch sending more shots of lightning down her spine and into her lower abdomen.
As his lips continued down her throat, mouthing over her pulse point, his hand continued its slow trek up the outside of her leg. His fingers danced over her knee, and then found a path in the soft, downy hair of her thighs.
The cool night air against her legs made her shiver. Despite her grip on Sir Frank’s shoulders and neck, her legs threatened to give out underneath her. She yearned for his touch to go higher, higher to where she could feel warmth pooling between her legs and an ache burning within her.
Mel gasped at the brush of his fingers nearly at the apex of her thighs, and tightened her grip, almost too harshly, in the roots of his hair. The groan he let out went directly between her legs, the pounding almost too much to bear.
When Mel looked down at Sir Frank, his eyes were nearly black. A flush had taken over his entire face, down his neck and onto his chest. His lips were glossy and dark pink.
He looked devastating.
Mel took a deep breath, every thought in her head racing and warring, and took a step back from the cage she’d been in between his thighs. At the first look of a crestfallen expression on his face, Mel shook her head, holding out a hand towards him.
“Come,” she whispered, and intertwined their fingers together.
He moved with her, so trusting and loyal, and she led him over to where he had laid out his cloak on the ground. It was close enough to the fire to still be warm. She kicked off her slippers, feet bare against the smooth material of the cloak.
The two of them stood there together, a sliver of moonlight pooling around them from above. He looked so beautiful, all pale skin and lithe muscles, and Mel distantly wondered how she had ever expected her life to go any other direction. She couldn’t imagine any other path than with him.
Every thought about the intricacies of their relationship threatened to enshroud Mel, weighing down on her shoulders as she stood merely inches away from Sir Frank. But she looked up at him, him standing just a little bit taller than her, and she shook it all away.
Mel turned, her back turned towards him. She angled her neck to look over her shoulder at him, his gaze smoldering as he watched her. His eyes, always careful and so smart, always watching her.
She reached up behind her to tug at the first string of her dress. The ties were criss-crossed in the back, like a corset tight against her spine. His eyes tracked her movements, and he took a small step closer to her.
Ever so slowly, as if he was taking his time, he untied each of the strings at the back of Mel’s dress. She felt the material start to loosen around her chest, and she held the front of it against her body as the bodice started to fall open. They were silent, except for the occasional harsh intakes of breath that Mel would make when his fingers would brush against her spine.
As the last tie fell open, Mel’s hands still grasping at the front of her gown to hold it against her breasts, she felt Sir Frank step up behind her. Warmth emanated off of him, making all of the hairs on Mel’s neck stand up.
She gasped at the first touch of his lips against her shoulder. His lips were hot as he kissed to the middle of her spine, and then down, tracing down the prominent bones along her back.
“You have ruined me,” he breathed, voice rumbling against her skin. “From the first moment that I saw you.”
Mel shivered, leaning back into his touch as his arms wrapped around her waist. He was flush against her, and she gasped as she felt a firmness against her lower back.
“You feel what you do to me?” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against the shell of her ear. “How you make me feel, Princess?”
He pressed his mouth against the skin beneath Mel’s ear, and she turned in his arms, needing their lips to be against one another again. She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him close, and he groaned as her dress fell down around her waist. Her breasts pressed up against his chest as their lips met, and they both gasped at the contact.
Mel wasn’t sure how much time passed. It could’ve been minutes, or hours, or weeks could’ve passed by in the time they were there. It felt languid, like honey dripping off of a spoon, their lips moving with no end or beginning.
Sir Frank guided her down onto the cloak, kneeling down next to her. He was careful and slow with his movements as he dragged his hands along the outside of her body. Goosebumps erupted in a path down the side of her breast, along her waist, as he grasped at the material of her gown and pulled it further down her body.
She lifted her hips at his guidance, allowing the soft material to slip down her thighs and off of her body.
He looked back at her, his eyes reverent as they gazed over her body. Her body, completely naked to him, lit by firelight and moonlight.
“Please,” she said again, unsure of what she even needed or wanted to say. Every atom in her body was reaching out towards his, her body aching without his touch.
His lips found hers once again, but only for a brief kiss. One that said much more than words could, more than novels and libraries could say, and then they moved down her body. Down her neck, along her collarbone, between her breasts. His lips dragged over her nipple, pebbled from the cold night air, and she gasped and arched her chest up and into his touch.
“So sensitive,” he smirked, looking up at her through the curtain of his thick eyelashes. “So beautiful.”
He continued down her body, pressing kisses to the middle of her stomach and below her navel, and then over the protrusion of her hipbone. She was nearly writhing under his touch, every nerve in her body firing off at once.
His palms found the insides of her thighs, parting her legs to allow his body to move between them. He had lowered himself down onto his chest, lips so close to where she ached for them, pressing small kisses to her upper thighs.
Mel felt ruined at the first touch of his mouth on her.
She tilted her head back, grasping at the material of the cloak beneath her as he pressed into her, all lips and tongue and warmth - and Gods, Mel felt like the world was falling out from underneath her.
He licked and lapped at her, her own wetness mixing with his saliva, and it felt electric. Mel was gasping and crying out, reaching down to grab at the roots of his hair and tug. And her knight, he was ravenous as he devoured her. He groaned and rumbled low in his throat as his mouth moved against her, hands gripping the outsides of her thighs tight to pull her close.
It snuck up on her all at once, a lightning strike down her spine. It was as if everything shifted around her, the sky shattering and raining down upon her. She was everywhere and nowhere, thrashing underneath his touch and crying out his name.
“Frank, oh my god,” she gasped, shuddering as his lips continued to move against her. It was all too much, her body almost too sensitive to his touch, and she tugged harder on his hair, getting him to look up at her. “Frank.”
“So improper, Princess,” he smirked. His lips and chin gleamed with wetness, and it made Mel’s chest flush. And yet, he looked ruined - hair sweaty and sticking in every direction from Mel’s hands, panting as he looked up at her.
Her Knight, her protector, her sworn shield. Sir Frank. Her Frank.
She surged forward, grabbing at his cheeks and bringing their mouths together again. And she could taste herself on his tongue, and it only made her burn hotter and brighter.
“Lay down,” she said, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears. Her legs and arms shook as she sat up, flushing at her nakedness compared to him still being clothed from the waist down. Mel’s eyes tracked all over him again, careless and wild, and her heart pounded in her chest at the bulge in his trousers.
His eyes barely left hers as he moved over onto his back. His eyes were hooded and so dark, his breath hitching as her hands reached forward and untied the front of his trousers.
She was still trembling as she pulled at his breeches, him lifting his hips just as she had done to allow them to fully come off. His undergarments followed, and Mel only stared as her cheeks warmed. He was beautiful.
Frank gasped out a breath as she hitched her leg over his, settling herself over his hips. Her thighs bracketed his, her rear rubbing up against him as she leaned down to press her lips to his chest. Something soared in her at the touch of him, hot and heavy against her.
“Mel,” he breathed, and Mel’s eyes tracked up and found him. His eyes were so open, oceans of emotions swimming in the blue of his eyes. They had left their official titles, their sworn vows and duties. They were just Mel and Frank.
“I have loved you since we were young,” he said, his voice soft. “I love you, I need you to know that.”
Mel smiled, and she felt like sunlight was erupting in her body. Warming her from within. Despite the cold air, and the wind that was coming from the woods, she felt hot.
She rocked herself against him then, a small movement of her hips, and gasped at the friction of them against each other. Her wetness made it all smooth, their bodies gliding against one another. His hands were gripping at her hips, a touch that would surely leave bruises.
Mel angled herself over slightly, reaching between her legs to wrap her hand around him. He was thick and heavy in her hands, the skin smooth and warm. She angled him up towards her, and Frank’s head tipped back against the ground as their bodies met.
She sunk down onto him, a dull ache that stretched and stretched and burned - and then when their hips met again, and she was fully seated, a small lick of flame that lit up at the base of her spine.
“I love you, too,” she breathed, and then rocked her hips forward.
Both of them moaned. The winds were rustling through the trees, wood crackling in the fire, and then just the sounds of their bodies meeting, their breaths hushed and hot as Mel moved against him.
A delicious ache had built in her abdomen, spreading throughout her limbs and tingling down to her fingertips. With every movement of her hips, it spread and licked along her body like wildfire.
Frank was a man ruined beneath her. His eyes were scrunched up, teeth biting down on his soft bottom lip as he gripped at her, his own hips thrusting up to meet her own.
And again, that earth shattering feeling that he had evoked in her before - it crested before her again. She moved faster on top of Frank, their bodies intertwined and feeling like one, and as everything threatened to crash down around her, she leaned down and captured his lips between hers one more time.
She was gasping against his mouth, stealing his air. Everything was hot and white as her entire body clenched around him and erupted.
He was gasping against her, his own body tensing and spilling into her as she rode through her pleasure.
When Mel was able to catch her breath, she slowly moved off of Frank’s body. Both of them were covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to the side of her face. He laid next to her, chest rapidly rising and falling with deep breaths.
The stars were small pinpricks in the sky above her. Thousands of them, all so small and faraway, and they were sprinkled all over. The moon, just a small curved sliver, was huge in the sky.
When Mel’s eyes left the sky, she found Frank’s own gaze upon her. His lips were curved up in a small smile, his eyes twinkling. He lifted one of his arms, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her against his body. She curled up against the warmth of his body.
As the two of them laid there longer, her breaths slowed. Her body seemed to slow down and come back into itself. Her palm, where it rested against the soft skin of Frank’s stomach, moved slightly as she dragged her fingers up the expanse of his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. His voice sounded mournful.
Mel sat up, her elbow beneath her. She looked at him. He looked so beautiful - he always looked so beautiful to her. “What for?”
“I…” He frowned, shaking his head. Silver lined his eyes. “For this. You know that this… Us, it can never be the way we want it to be. I can’t… I can’t live like this, Mel.”
“No,” she frowned. She reached forward with her other hand, cradling his cheek with her palm. “None of that. You don’t get to be a martyr.”
“But-”
“No,” she said again, firmer. “You don’t get to leave me now. I won’t allow it. You’re my knight, and you are sworn to me. Forever.”
“Always,” he whispered. His voice was so soft, eyes swimming with something sad. “But I can’t watch you marry someone else. It would kill me.”
“I love you,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s all that matters. That’s all my mother and father have ever cared about.”
“I love you, too, Princess, but-”
Mel glared at him. “Are you so insistent to just give up? And not fight for me at all?”
Frank deflated at that. “Princess. I’ve vowed to fight for you for the rest of my life.”
Mel nodded. “So you’ll continue to fight, then. I’ll talk to my parents. They’ve only ever wanted my happiness, and if we’re technical, you are of noble birth. I will tell them that we’re to be married.”
Frank smiled softly. “Quite the proposal, Your Highness.”
Mel smiled back. She leaned forward and pressed their lips together - soft and quick. Like they had all the time in the world.
“We haven’t done anything else correctly,” she said. “Why should we start now?”
She laid back down then, scooting closer to him and resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating underneath her ear. Her legs tangled up with his, their hands intertwining over his stomach.
They fell asleep like that, beneath the dark canopy of the trees and the soft light of the sky overhead. The knight and the princess, their hearts beating together and bodies intertwined.