Up in his bedchamber, a trio of housemaids were finishing up – stoking the fire, turning down the bed and pouring one last steaming kettle into the long, wooden tub that had not been there before.
Standing in his shadow, Danaë kept her head down as Cenric spoke quietly with the eldest before dismissing them.
When she looked up, the maids were gone, and Cenric was lounging in one of the fireside chairs, watching her.
"Come," he beckoned.
There was a warmth in his eyes, a softness in his stare that left her unable to resist.
Walking over, Danaë paused, standing at his feet.
His lips parted to utter one word: "Kneel."
Remembering the night before, Danaë shivered as she complied.
"Take my boots off."
Glancing down, she took his ankle in her hand and pulled the brown leather covering off of one foot, then the other.
When they lay on the stone floor, he smirked, "Now, my shirt."
One garment after another, the process repeated until he stood, naked, before her.
Looking up, Danaë eyed the engorged rod between his legs warily.
"Are..." she trailed off.
"What, Danaë?" His voice rumbled in the silent chamber.
She licked her lips, "Are you going to make me...?"
His eyes seemed to darken. "In time? Yes, but not right now." Offering his hand, he helped her up, pulling her into his arms.
Caught in his embrace, Danaë felt him tugging at the lacing that held the back of her borrowed dress together.
As his busy fingers loosened her bodice, Cenric observed, "You seemed uneasy at dinner, Princess."
Resting her head against his broad chest, Danaë let him continue his work. "I didn't think you'd noticed."
"I always notice you."
Danaë turned her head to watch him, "You do?"
He nodded, "Ever since we met – if you're in a room, it's only a matter of time before all of my attention is on you."
Cenric began gathering her skirts in his hands as Danaë thought back to that night in darkness – the way he'd seemingly sensed her presence in the gloom...
Pulling the gown up over her head, he tossed it aside, returning to make quick work of her chemise.
As the last scrap of fabric fell from her body, Danaë fought her discomfort with her nakedness and followed as Cenric stepped into the steaming tub.
Letting him guide her down to sit on his lap, the water sloshed dangerously close to the brim as she straddled his outstretched legs.
Reaching over to take a square of linen and a bar of soap from an adjacent table, Cenric asked, "Tell me, why were you uneasy?"
Danaë thought about telling him that one of his trusted knights had leered at her, but decided against it.
Instead, watching as he lathered the washcloth in the water between them, Danaë shrugged, "Nothing."
Then his hand slid up her buttocks and along her spine, pulling her forward to lay against him.
Rubbing the soapy cloth up her back, Cenric brought his lips to her ear, "That wasn't 'nothing', Princess. Tell me."
Pressed against the muscled length of his torso, Danaë felt her heart racing.
"Everyone was staring." She muttered.
"Everyone?" His cloth reached her shoulder blades, and she sighed.
"It felt like it. Staring and whispering."
"Hmm." Reaching down, he wet the cloth again before running it over her spine.
"What if I make an example of them?"
She turned her head, frowning. "What?"
"You know, pluck their eyes out, cut off their tongues, and hang them from the battlements."
Danaë froze, looking up to see the teasing glint in his eyes.
"You wouldn't."
"I would," he replied. "If you asked me to, I would."
The absolute, unwavering sincerity in his voice took her breath away.
Reaching between them, Cenric pressed the washcloth against her stomach, washing away the remnants of his seed.
Dumbstruck, she leaned back, watching as he worked his way up the soft skin of her abdomen, rubbing under and around her breasts and teasing her nipples into rigid peaks.
Then, delving below the water's surface, he sought and found her aching core, washing the skin around it before dropping the pretense and stroking her.
Danaë gasped, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
"Are you sore?"
Cenric's question cut through the growing fog in her mind. "What?"
"You were a virgin last night, and I've fucked you twice since – are you sore?"
The bluntness of his question had her blushing furiously.
"...a little?"
"Then I'll go slow."
Alarmed, Danaë felt her eyes shoot open. "Now?"
"No," he chuckled, "Not now. First, it's your turn to bathe me."
Taking his hand away, Cenric handed her the washcloth.
She took it, seeking and finding the bar of soap that he'd left in the water.
Sitting back on her heels, Danaë lathered the cloth. When she finished, she looked up to find Cenric's expectant eyes on her.
As her eyes dipped down to the raw power of his chest, her breath quickened.
"Well?" He asked.
Girding herself, Danaë reached forward and placed the cloth against his collarbone. Working slowly, she rubbed in small circles, building up her courage as she gradually moved farther and farther down.
In the flickering light, Danaë caught glimpses of the scars that decorated his body, trophies of battles and war.
Maybe someday he'll tell me about them...
As her fingers reached the surface of the water, she hesitated.
Dare I?
She glanced up and was caught in the fiery heat of his stare.
Slowly, as he watched, she reached below the water-
-as the door to the bedchamber opened.
With a squeak, Danaë buried herself in Cenric's arms, pressing her face against his neck.
By the sound of it, half a dozen people were currently walking into the room.
When he spoke, she felt it resonate through his chest:
"Place them on the sideboard, then you may leave."
Danaë heard a clattering bustle across the room as she burned with embarrassment and prayed to disappear.
Then Cenric's hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks and squeeze.
Biting back a surprised squeal, Danaë looked up, glaring at Cenric's amusement.
As the sound of footsteps left the room, and the door closed behind them, Danaë hissed, "Cenric!"
He smirked, "I do love the way you say my name, Princess."
"Did you know they were coming in?"
"Yes."
"And you couldn't have warned me? They- they saw us-"
He shrugged, "What do I care? I'm King."
"I care!"
Lowering his lips to her temples, he began ghosting kisses across her face.
"Much as I adore your modesty, Danaë, I was more concerned with the fact that you didn't eat dinner."
"Wh- what?" Glancing over, she caught sight of the uncovered platters sitting on the table, revealing breads, cheeses and an assortment of fruits.
Tipping her chin up, Cenric gazed at her lips. "I won't have you going hungry, Princess. Not while you're under my roof."
Danaë felt her anger soften. Annoyed still, she frowned at him. "You should have warned me."
"Perhaps."
"'Perhaps'? Cenric, your servants just caught me naked in your bath!"
"And?"
"'And'?" she cried.
"You're mine, Princess, and I don't care who knows it."
"But-"
"Look at me, Danaë: If anyone dares to disparage you for it, I will teach them the error of their ways – I promise you."
Shaking her head, Danaë stood, stepping out of the bath.
Taking one of the linen towels, she wrapped it around herself, moving to stand by the fire.
There was a sloshing sound as Cenric rose, followed by the wet footfalls of his approach.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. Silently, Cenric took the towel out of her grasp and began to dry her, slowly, carefully, like she was a delicate and treasured possession.
When he had finished, he applied the towel to himself in a much rougher manner, tossing it aside when he was done.
Standing between him and the blazing fire, Danaë shivered under the feral intensity of his stare.
When his hands cupped her face, he paused, waiting.
Realizing she couldn't dodge the question, Danaë sighed, admitting, "I'm not used to people looking at me like they did out there, Cenric."
"How did they look at you?"
"With contempt. With derision." Her voice shook as she spoke. "I'm not used to it, Cenric, and I don't like it."
He didn't answer, instead leaning down to capture her mouth with his.
She resisted, for a moment, spine rigid, fists clenched, but gradually, she gave in. Slowly, she reached up, arms winding around his neck.
When he moved to pick her up, she allowed it, even wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed.
Laying her down on the soft furs, Cenric climbed between her thighs, pressing against her as his lips claimed hers.
Breaking away, Cenric brought himself up on his elbows, letting his erection rub between them.
"Do you like the way I make you feel, Danaë?"
Coming out of her haze, she asked, "What?"
Reaching down to rub her clit, Cenric's fingers delved into Danaë's wet and ready pussy, only repeating himself when she was gasping with pleasure.
"Do you like the way I make you feel?" His lips found the curve of her neck, leaving love bites to punctuate his words. "Do you like what my fingers do to you? Do you like the way I fuck you with my mouth and fill you with my cock?"
Trembling with need, Danaë whimpered, "Yes-"
"Then that's all that matters."
Fingers slick with her arousal, Cenric parted her folds, pressing the hot, pulsing length of his erection inside of her.
Danaë winced, anticipating pain, but true to his word he moved slowly, methodically, rocking against her.
"Touch yourself," he grit above her.
There was a desperate, dangerous tone to his voice, and as Danaë reached down to rub the aching nub between her legs, she looked up, meeting his gaze-
-and quivered at the raw need she saw there.
Brazenly, she stroked herself as Cenric fucked her, eyes never straying from his.
As her pleasure built, Danaë found herself moaning with a shamelessness she would burn for later.
When her breathing hitched, she fought the urge to look away, not wanting to lose sight of Cenric's lust clouded stare.
But, as ecstasy burst within her, Danaë squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her head back and riding the euphoria that overwhelmed her.
Pulling out, Cenric pumped his cock into his hand a few times before letting his own release shoot out onto her abdomen.
Dazed in the afterglow, they watched each other, replete and breathless in the golden firelight.