The final night of Yul came quicker than Cyra had expected.
The twins, sitting next to each other and talking amongst themselves, barely paid attention to Cyra and Mirabel as they fussed with the lavish red velvet gown purchased from a local dressmaker - not the one that still designed her wedding gown, however.
“Turn to the right a little,” Mirabel hissed, her hands fiddling with the large skirt.
“I can’t twist any further!” Cyra complained, but the lady-in-waiting attempted to anyway. Cyra’s long braid flopped over her right shoulder as she looked behind her, watching Mirabel work her magic with the massive petticoat that kept the skirt away from her ankles. Mirabel huffed loudly, a sign that she was either done or close to it, and stood up, pushing her red hair away from her face.
Announced by a creaking noise, Halewijn peeked into the room, his laurel-crowned head and golden eyes sliding past the door frame. “Can I-”
“Come in, come in!” Mirabel rushed to help him with the door, frantic. “We’re just finishing with her dress. Are we late?”
“Almost,” Halewijn admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. His expression was full of worry, and even though he tried to mask it with a poorly timed smile, Cyra could see right through it.
“Are you nervous?” Cyra wondered, padding over to him and smoothing a palm across his warm cheek. Hal turned his head to kiss it, pressing his soft lips against her skin.
“Not at all.” He lied. Mirabel continued to fuss around Cyra, trying to make the Princess look as magical as possible for the last night of Yul. When she finished, the lady in waiting stepped back, holding her hands up.
“Go! Go, and be merry.” With the lady’s permission now acquired, Halewijn swept Cyra out of the room and down the stairs. Cyra gripped Hal’s hand as they made their way into the courtyard, joining the gathered crowd of men and women who would watch the fireworks with excitement. Servants milled about the group, offering sparkling wine to all who were present. Cyra took a glass and passed one to Halewijn, who grinned back at her.
“I used to watch these every year and make the same wish as the first fireworks would go off.”
“The same wish?” Cyra wondered, sipping from the glass lazily. He looked over at her sheepishly.
“Yes, but I realized this morning…” Hal paused as the fireworks began, looking up at the night sky with wide eyes. The popping, hissing, and slow fizzles muffled out any other sounds, the gathered crowd pointing and clapping as the show began. Red, blue, and then golden showers of fire graced the darkened sky, making it almost as bright as the daytime.
“What did you realize?” Cyra finally prodded, her eyes half on the fireworks. Halewijn closed his eyes for a moment, then turned back to Cyra, a severe look on his face.
“I realized that I would have to make a new wish this year.” The obvious question hung between them as the fireworks continued, the whistles merely background noise to the main conversation. Halewijn dipped his chin and tilted Cyra’s up with his free hand. “I thought about asking for more time, but I knew that would be wasteful. Wishing for more time doesn’t mean I would enjoy it, but if I had someone that would make my time here meaningful, well… then it will have been time well spent. And I can say this: my time with you has been more enjoyable than I could have ever imagined.” The High Prince offered her a sweet smile, one that Cyra couldn’t help but return. And when they kissed, the depth and power of it - echoed by the fireworks in the background - rocked Cyra to her core, sending shockwaves from her head to her feet. Some part of her registered that the wine glass dropped from her hand when she wrapped her arms around Halewijn’s neck, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted at that moment was to be with him, to be his, and never to let go.
“Cyra,” He breathed when their lips parted. “Cyra, I love you; every part of you.” Refusing to open her eyes, Cyra nodded, making her nose rub against his. Tears threatened at her eyes. All of this was too perfect, too fantastic, too much. “I need you.”
“Halewijn, I --” A loud burst of fireworks in rapid succession made her look to the sky again. A rainbow of colors, the cacophony of sounds, cheers of the crowd… all of those things drowned out her words. But somehow, Halewijn understood what she couldn’t say, wrapping her in another kiss that pulled her away from the outer world and back into the space between them.
Cyra didn’t expect her body to react so ardently in public, but something in her caught fire like a match. Suddenly, her hands were roaming in Hal’s hair and down the embroidered collar, resting on his neck where the jugular vein thrummed like a hummingbird. “Not here.” Halewijn spoked against her mouth, and she opened her eyes to survey the crowd around them. Still, no one looked at them, their eyes firmly glued to the sky above. Despite this, Halewijn tugged on her hand, angling his neck for her to follow him.
As quickly as they had rushed down the stairs, the two dashed upward, almost losing their footing once or twice. On the way to their hall, Cyra couldn’t think about the alternatives. There was no other plan tonight. Whatever happened would happen.
Halewijn turned into his room, throwing his door open unceremoniously and dragging her inside. Cyra spun to shut the door once she passed the threshold, taking her eyes off of Halewijn for a split second before returning to his embrace. They kissed again, and Halewijn lifted her off the floor before sitting her on the bed, never once stopping. She leaned back, taking Hal with her as he placed his arms on either side. Cyra couldn’t think as his hands began to roam and do their dances around her body; for once, nothing worked in her mind.
Then suddenly, Halewijn pulled away, his eyes closed, and breathing ragged.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The fireworks still hissed and popped outside, but all Cyra could hear was the drumming of her heart.
“Yes.” She exhaled, and Halewijn kissed her again, hungrier and needier than ever before. Cyra couldn’t help but feel herself melt in his embrace, his hands undoing her braided hair and her shoes in an order she couldn’t recall. Then he began working on his own clothing, pulling his tunic off in one smooth move and tossing it aside. The Princess looked up at Halewijn, whose golden eyes shone with something in between passion and love. He leaned down again to cup the side of her neck, kissing the other side tenderly.
“We need to get all of this off of you.” Hal murmured against the crushed velvet and fur. Cyra pushed herself up eagerly and stood, unhooking the back of the dress. Halewijn made quick work of the rest, pulling the petticoat off with ease, then letting it collapse in a heap of lace and garters beside the bed. She stood before him, stripped down to her undergarments, her arms instinctively going to her half-naked chest.
“No,” Halewijn pulled her arms away. “Let me look at you.” He reached behind her back and took off the brassiere, letting it join the other articles of clothing on the floor. At the sight of her almost entirely naked, Hal hummed his approval, the noise bordering on a growl. Cyra felt her insides constrict as he removed his shoes, then his pants. The heat between her thighs grew; a gentle tremor ran down her spine. “Come.” Hal offered his hand to her, beckoning her back to the bed. Cyra took two steps, then another, and when she hesitated to take his hand, Halewijn raised a brow. “Second thoughts?” Cyra shook her head hastily.
“I… I’m just…” How could she tell him that she was simply nervous?
“You can always say if you want to stop.” He offered, his expression softening. In response, Cyra took his hand and squeezed it.
“I want this. I want you.”
Halewijn needed no further reassurances. He pulled her into another embrace and turned, so she lay beneath him on the green and gray sheets, hitching her legs up with a soft push. Halewijn sank lower, almost disappearing off the edge of the bed and stopping only when he was face to face with her yoni.
“Wait,” Cyra sat up, eyeing him curiously. “What are you-”
“You’ll see. If you don’t like it, tell me to stop.” Halewijn muttered as he hooked a finger around her underwear and pulled it down her legs. He then pushed her legs back again, and a wet yet warm sensation shocked her into stillness. As the High Prince began his task, he ran his hands up and down her legs, to her belly, and back again, causing Cyra to utter a noise she’d never heard before. A hand instinctively went to Halewijn’s wavy hair, and - obviously pleased - he hummed against her. He wouldn’t stop until his goal had been accomplished, which was to unravel her senses and mind at the same time.
The closer she got to that point, the faster he went, teasing out sounds that Cyra could only categorize as grunts and gasps. Some came voluntarily, others not so freely - like when he gripped her thighs hard enough to cause her to gasp, the double sensation of pleasure and pain unlocking some hidden source of dopamine. The rush pushed Cyra to the edge, and she could feel the waves of pleasure begin to peak when Hal flicked his eyes open to observe her from below. His eyes held her gaze until she tossed her head back, letting out a long sigh as her spine arched and her eyes rolled into her skull, the newness of the feeling snatching her soul from her body for what felt like an eternity. All Cyra could do was feel - she was nothing and no one, just an eternal bundle of feelings and blissful shaking.
When the Princess came to, she looked down at Halewijn, who littered the insides of her thighs with tender kisses, both hands cradling her open legs. When he noticed that she was no longer shaking, Hal blinked and looked at her. “How do you feel?” He inquired, resting the side of his head on her right leg.
“I’ve never felt like that before.”
“And… it was amazing.” He grinned at her, the corners of his lips turning up, then he stood, stretching before Cyra slowly rose onto her elbows. “That’s it?”
“Is that all you want it to be?” The High Prince asked, a brow raised.
“No. I want everything you can give me, Halewijn.” Halewijn nodded once, then removed his underwear as well, revealing his arousal in one swift motion. The bed creaked under his knee, and Cyra braced herself for what was to come.
“Relax,” was all Halewijn whispered as he leaned into her, positioning himself. As he pushed into her, Cyra felt the momentary pain pass quickly, then a fullness. She made an “o” shape with her lips, and Halewijn groaned, pushing a little deeper before beginning his strokes. Cyra exhaled deeply as Halewijn’s left hand came up to her neck again, the other holding her right leg up a little higher. “Gods, Cyra…” He whispered into her ear, making her shudder and making him hiss.
“Halewijn, I love you.” Cyra breathed, holding onto his back, her fingernails digging into his skin. “I need you.”
“I know, my love. I know.” He replied tenderly, touching Cyra’s earlobe with his fingertips before snaking them behind her back. Hal grasped her closer, and Cyra felt tears roll down her cheeks as he kissed her neck. When a tear fell onto his face, Halewijn stopped moving, scanning her body. “Have I hurt you?” Cyra opened her eyes and shook her head.
“No,” She whispered as he wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Then why the tears?”
“I’m just overwhelmed with emotion, I think.” Halewijn hummed his understanding, then proceeded to start again, slowly driving her back to the brink of pleasure’s cliff. The High Prince whispered things to Cyra that made her blush while he made love to her passionately, and his hot mouth captured hers more than once, trailing warm kisses down her body and across her breasts. Hal flipped her over at some point in time, gripping her hips before inserting himself back into her. Cyra made a guttural sound, her back arching and hip pushing back into his hands. She thrust a hand between her legs to touch herself, which did nothing if not enhancing the sensations below. Halewijn vocally approved of her actions but didn’t stop. He sped up, moaning in time with his thrusts like Cyra, before gripping her hips tightly. Suddenly, he gasped, then let out a long groan, trembling ever so slightly. Cyra wouldn’t stop until she reached that point as well, finding her release seconds later.
When they both came down from their high, Halewijn removed himself and took a few steps back, smoothing his hair back and off his sweaty face. Unsure of what to do or where to go, Cyra laid on the bed, spent. She closed her eyes, relaxing into the comforter while Hal ran water in the bathroom.
Moments later, he smoothed a hand across her back before whispering, “Would you like a bath?” Cyra lifted herself up and followed him to the tub, now filled with water and bubbles. Halewijn slipped in first, holding his hand out to steady her. When they sat in the warm water, Cyra leaned her head against Hal’s chest, sighing.
“So...” He breathed, eyes closed.
“So?” She echoed, and Halewijn laughed.
“You meant what you said in there, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That you love me,” Hal stated simply, peeking one eye open to look down at her. Cyra smiled, then ran a wet hand up to his chest and into his hair.
“What do you think?” Halewijn chuckled, taking her hand out of his hair before kissing it.
“I think… I think you meant it.” Cyra grinned at him, taking a breath before murmuring,
“Then, you’d be right.”