"Kieran," I breathe, the word trembling out of me like a confession I've been holding back for a lifetime. My hands fist in his shirt, grounding myself in the solid reality of him. "I want more. Please. I need all of you."
For a heartbeat, he doesn't move.
He just looks at me.
Not like a king. Not like a man who commands armies or bends packs to his will—but like someone who has just been trusted with something sacred. Something fragile. Something that could break if mishandled.
Then something dark and reverent settles into his gaze.
"As you wish, my Queen," he murmurs, and the title doesn't feel like a crown this time. It feels like a promise.
He lifts me easily, like my weight is nothing, like I belong exactly there—against his chest, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. I gasp as the world shifts, as the kitchen blurs and fades behind us. My heart pounds so hard I swear he must feel it through my ribs.
Unable to help myself. I land soft heavy kisses down his neck where my mark would go. I kiss, suck and nibble. Leaving loves bites behind, hoping to torture him as we move. He groans into my ear as I grind myself into his waist searching for more friction. More of him.
Every step down the hall is deliberate. Unhurried. Like he's savoring the anticipation as much as I am.
His room closes around us in warmth and shadow, lit low and intimate, the air heavy with his scent and something electric that makes my skin buzz. Kicking the door close with his foot, he sets me down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering like he's afraid to let go too quickly.
"You're sure?" he asks, voice rough now, barely contained.
I reach for him, pulling him closer, needing the weight of him, the closeness, the truth of what we're about to become. "I trust you."
"You can stop me at any moment," he says quietly, forehead resting against mine. "I need you to know that."
I shake my head, breathless. "Please Kieran, I need you."
That's all it takes.
His restraint fractures—not violently, but completely.
He kisses me like he's been starving, like this is something he's dreamed of and denied himself for far too long. Ripping my clothes off, his hands explore with reverence, learning me slowly, mapping every shiver, every sharp inhale, every place where my body betrays me and leans closer.
There are no words to describe his touch. It feels like being seen, wanted, worshiped.
His mouth lands on my breast and he bites down. I moan arching my back into him. Still I need more of him, more of his skin.
Why are his clothes still on?
Yanking off his shirt, desperately in need of that skin to skin. I move to his belt buckle and frantically yank at it. He gives a low dark menacing growl of approval.
"Little wolf, are you impatient?"
"Despriately," I whisper. Yanking him forward, pushing him onto the bed and pulling his pants clean off. My eyes widened, surprised by the size. Goddess how will it fit?
Giving me a knowing smirk, "Like something you see?"
"Mmmh, very much so," I breathe out as I crawl on top of him. Straddling his waist, he tries to sit but grabbing my waist. With my hands I push him back down. "I am in control, not you," grinding my self, spreading my juices on his shaft. He growls, "I don't want to hurt you," tightening his grip on my waist, stopping my movements. "It is your first time."
I bend over to whisper into his ear, "I am taking what I want. How I want it," I lick from the crook of his neck to behind his ear making his shiver. "Don't you want to serve me?" Using his own words to entice him. He growls, and that moment his hands come up to frame my face, I forget how to breathe. His thumbs brush my jaw like he's memorizing me, then he pulls me down and kisses me—deep, slow, devastating. It's not careful. It's hungry, like he's done waiting. His mouth moves against mine with deliberate intent, and heat coils low in my stomach, sharp and insistent, spreading until my whole body feels lit from the inside out. I kiss him back harder, grinding myself harder into him, spreading my arousal all over his shaft. A moan bursts out of me unapologetically.
"Ahh, Kieran. I–" words leave me breathlessly. Fuck I need him.
Need clawing its way through me, my thoughts dissolving into the feel of his lips, his warmth, the way he makes me ache just from this. I want more—more pressure, more closeness, all of him—and the realization hits me so hard it almost scares me. I'm not just ready. I'm desperate. I need him, completely, and I don't want to hold back anymore. No more, I can't wait any longer. I need him to be mine, his body to be mine and mine his.
Through this kiss I lift myself slowly grabbing his cock into my hand.I hear him hiss into my mouth. Biting his bottom lip as I align him into my entrance, he grabs my hips stabilizing me to him. Slowly, ever so slowly, I lower myself onto and a wild gasp escapes my mouth as I feel that sweet stretch within me.
They say the first time is supposed to hurt—awkward, clumsy, something to endure before it gets better. But that isn't what I feel. There's no pain, no sharp edge of fear. Just a slow, overwhelming fullness as I ease into him, a stretching warmth that makes my breath stutter and my body melt instead of tense. Pleasure blooms deep inside me, unfamiliar and intoxicating, rolling outward in soft waves that leave me dizzy and trembling. I cling to him, stunned by how right it feels, how my body seems to recognize his as if it's always known this moment was coming. There's only bliss, only connection—sweet, consuming, and so achingly intimate it steals every thought from my mind.
He groans low in his chest, the sound vibrating straight through me, a reverberation that settles deep in my core and makes my body answer without permission. The noise is raw, undone, and it sends heat flooding through me, intensifying every sensation until I'm aching with want. When we begin to move, it's slow at first—tentative, searching—each shift drawing out the pleasure, building it layer by layer. My breath stutters with every motion, desire curling tighter inside me, growing heavier, sweeter, until all I can think about is him and the way my body is already begging for more.
Time blurs. His mouth traces heat and devotion down my skin, and I cling to his shoulders, to the sound of my own breath breaking apart as sensation builds into something overwhelming and bright.
I'm shaking—not from fear, but from how deeply I feel him. From how thoroughly he's undone me without ever needing to rush.
Something fierce and tender flashes across his face.
It's intense. Almost too much.
"Kieran," I whisper, nails digging into his shoulders.
"You're so fucking beautiful." As he grabs my waist and drives upwards as I sink lower.
"AHH," I scream out as stars form in my vision. My teeth tingle with need, as I feel my canines descend.
"KIERAN! I… can't!
That's when he lets go.
The king disappears.
What remains is a male utterly claimed by instinct and bond, devotion and hunger colliding into something consuming. The air between us crackles as we move with confidence now, strength and desire woven together, his presence filling every space inside me until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
I cry out his name, the sound torn from my chest, and he answers it like a vow, like a prayer, like something he intends to spend the rest of his life honoring.
The world narrows to sensation and connection, to the undeniable truth of us—mates, equals, sovereigns bound together by more than fate.
I rise over him, breath shaking, the pull in my chest sharp and undeniable as instinct finally overtakes hesitation. My lips trail along his jaw, my hands bracing on his shoulders as I lean in and bite down gently at first—then harder—right where my mark belongs. The moment my teeth pierce his skin, his body goes taut beneath me, a broken sound tearing from his throat as the bond flares white-hot between us. Power rushes through me, fierce and intimate, and before I can even catch my breath, his hands are on me, gripping, grounding—claiming. His answering bite comes fast and sure, sinking into the crook of my neck, and the sensation detonates through us both like lightning. Pleasure crashes over me in a blinding wave, the bond locking into place as our wolves surge together, and the release that follows is overwhelming—ancient, consuming, and shared—until there is nothing left but his name on my lips and the certainty that we are finally, irrevocably one.
And for the first time since the world named me Queen, I don't feel like I'm standing alone beneath the weight of it.
I feel chosen.
Loved.
Home.