The Grand Duke's Soulmate-Chapter 574: A night of choice - R18

The knight knew immediately—whatever troubled her, it was no small thing.

He approached and sat beside her on the bed without hesitation, reaching for her hand and enclosing it in his. His touch was warm and grounding.

"Hey..." he whispered, lifting her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. "Why are you crying?"

Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but all that came out was his name again.

"Drystan..."

He drew her nearer, one hand gently patting her back in a calm, comforting rhythm. He realised immediately that he didn’t need to ask anything; his mere presence was enough for her as he noticed her desperate, pleading eyes.

"It’s all right," he murmured. "I’m right here."

Overwhelmed, Sylvia grasped him tightly, her fingers clutching his hand as if he were the only thing keeping her anchored. But her sobs grew more intense.

She wanted to beg him not to leave her—to stay and to choose her—but the words refused to form.

Sylvia knew who Drystan was. He was a knight who cherished freedom, who lived by his own will and choices. To ask him to remain would be to bind and trap him in a life he never sought.

Yet the fear of losing him broke her heart apart.

Meanwhile, Drystan was unsure what had triggered this, but he could see Sylvia was suffering. This was one of the emotional outbursts she had been desperately hiding. It must have reached a point where she could no longer bear the pain alone, and it finally erupted.

He wrapped his arms around her entirely this time, drawing her into his embrace.

Sylvia clung to him, burying her face against his chest as her tears soaked through the fabric. For the first time, he did not keep that careful distance between them.

Something felt twisted in his chest.

Without hesitation, he gently pressed a kiss to her temple, followed by another to her forehead, holding each moment as if she might shatter while his hand stayed protectively on the back of her head.

Sylvia gasped softly, her arms tightening around him as she sought the warmth of their closeness, needing his touch.

The kisses continued, gentle at first, then lingering, his restraint gradually eroding under the weight of her vulnerability.

Drystan’s lips brushed her brow, her cheek, her trembling eyelids... until, without fully realising how it happened, he caught her lips with his own.

The kiss was soft. Uncertain. Nothing like passion, yet everything about it felt like truth.

Sylvia froze for a heartbeat—caught between fear and longing—then slowly leaned into him, returning the kiss with quiet desperation.

Her breath trembled as her lips parted, not in refusal but in surrender, allowing him to have more of her.

She did not pull away. Not once. And with each tentative deepening of the kiss, her body yielded as if it had been waiting for this all along.

Drystan finally raised his face, his lips moist from the sudden passionate exchange, with their foreheads still pressed together. His brown eyes looked into hers, open and focused, as if he was searching for an answer she hadn’t yet voiced.

And he found it there...

Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes damp, and her gaze unfocused yet fixed on him. There was no hesitation in her eyes—only desire, raw and honest. This was not confusion, nor was it comfort alone. She wanted this. She wanted him.

They had just shared their first true kiss, unbound by duty or ceremony, but by choice. And now, standing this close, with her frail body pressed against him, the restraint he had upheld for so long wavered.

He had imagined this more times than he would ever admit. In fleeting glances, in quiet nights when she stood by the window in her nightgown, in moments when her smile lasted just a second too long.

Yet he had never crossed that line. Even with the right to have so as her husband, he had kept his distance, afraid of taking something she did not wish to give.

But now... now the desire was unbearable.

Drystan swallowed, his voice calm despite the turmoil inside.

"Sylvie..." He paused briefly before speaking with sincere determination. "Let me have you tonight."

Sylvia gasped.

For a fleeting moment, fear flickered—of change, and of crossing a line that could never be undone. Yet her resolve settled just as quickly.

"Yes," she whispered.

That single word undid him.

Drystan gathered her into his arms with reverence rather than haste, as though she were something precious, something entrusted to him.

Their kisses resumed—more passionate now and filled with unspoken promises. He guided her softly, never rushing, never taking more than she offered.

They tumbled onto the bed together, breath mingling before transforming into something far more tender. Each touch bore the weight of long-held feelings.

Desire drifted through the air, intoxicating and overpowering, until neither of them noticed when layers of fabric slipped away and were forgotten on the floor.

Drystan’s lips gently follow Sylvia’s collarbone, as if trying to remember her warmth. His hands move tenderly, not to possess, but to cherish her.

The quiet sound that escaped her lips surprised her as much as it delighted him, and she grasped his shoulders, unsteady from the intensity of it all.

When cool air brushed her skin, Sylvia startled slightly and glanced down, suddenly aware of how exposed she was before him and how unguarded she was. Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks.

"D-Drystan..." she muttered, uncertainty clear in her voice.

Sensing it at once, he paused his gentle touch on her mounds, his gaze lifting to her face, searching rather than claiming.

"Yes, Sylvie?"

Her hands found his, stopping him not out of rejection, but hesitation.

"I... I’m not pretty," she murmured, the old doubt creeping in. "I have freckles... and—"

He cut her off softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

"You are much more beautiful than you think," he said confidently. "Your freckles are part of what makes you unique and perfect. I would never want you to change anything about yourself."

Sylvia’s breath steadied. She saw no judgment in his eyes, only desire tempered with tenderness and a sincerity that made her chest ache even more for his love.

This was the first time Drystan had ever demanded of her since their marriage. And though she bore the title of his wife, her answer did not come from duty.

She would have said ’yes’ regardless because she had fallen for him for far longer than she had ever dared to admit.

Buoyed by the sincerity in his words, Sylvia let her final hesitations fall away. The doubts she had carried for so long loosened their hold, replaced by a quiet resolve to give herself fully to him, and to this moment.

She reached for Drystan and drew him close, their bodies fitting together as naturally as breath. They moved slowly at first, savouring the gentle exploration that spoke more clearly than words ever could.

His lips traced along her throat, as though committing every heartbeat to memory while her hands slid down his back.

The desire building between them grew almost unbearable and no longer something either wished to deny.

The boundaries set by reason and contract faded into insignificance, eclipsed by something far more real. Drystan had no thought of retreat now; all that mattered was her.

When he finally lifted himself above her, he paused as if giving her one last chance to turn away.

"I’m here, Sylvie," he said softly. "Would you let me in?"

Sylvia swallowed, her hands tightening around his shoulders—not in fear, but in trust.

"Please... take care of me," she whispered.

He pressed his lips to her forehead before speaking in a quiet and assured voice.

"I will. I promise. No matter what comes after, I will be responsible."

And with that vow hanging between them, she nodded, choosing him without reservation.

Drystan made a decisive movement, pressing his hardened shaft against her warm opening while she straddled his hips.

"Ugh... Drystan! Ah... It hurts!" she cried.

Sylvia bit her lips as a piercing pain coursed through her when his length pushed deeper into her, a place no one had ever reached before.

Drystan felt a barrier within herself tearing as he thrust in, while Sylvia’s body jerked, the last of her innocence slipped away into his keeping.

"I know," he murmured, gathering her into his arms, his voice low and soothing. "I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just breathe with me."

Sylvia’s forehead pressed against his shoulder, her lashes damp as she clung to him. The moment was overwhelming—pain braided with vulnerability, fear with trust.

She felt the weight of crossing a threshold she could never return from, giving him something she had guarded her entire life.

Drystan sympathised with her pain but recognised its necessity. Although he wished she wouldn’t experience such discomfort, it was part of how humans endure their intimate pleasure.

And despite feeling guilty, he secretly took pride in being her first man.

Gradually, the sharp tension eased, replaced by a strange feeling that spread through her, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Sylvia relaxed against Drystan inch by inch, her breathing evening as she adjusted to the new sensation between them.

"Better?" he asked softly, his fingers threading through her pale hair, caressing her.

Sylvia nodded, her lashes fluttering as she steadied her breath. A small smile touched his lips.

"I’ll move now," Drystan murmured. "If it becomes too much, tell me. I’ll stop."

"Don’t..." she whispered back. Her hand tightened against him. "Don’t stop."

At her words, something invisible yet undeniable shifted between them. Drystan kissed her again—more deeply this time—no longer suppressing the emotions he had long kept hidden. Every unspoken feeling poured into that kiss: his tenderness, his yearning, his quiet devotion.

Sylvia responded without hesitation, her arms sliding around his neck as she leaned into him, surrendering to the closeness. The lingering fear faded, replaced by trust and a yearning she no longer tried to Their breaths intertwined, uneven and breathless, sweat forming on their skin as they remained entwined, unwilling to part.

ng back. She embraced him fully, feeling the solid length of a man she desired, and started to feel the emptiness when he withdrew.

The discomfort lingered as he kept pounding, but it no longer overwhelmed her; instead, it was accompanied by a growing awareness that made her crave more of him.

His laboured breathing and low grunts prompted her to endure willingly, and she instinctively moved her body in response. Pleasurable moans escaped her as the euphoria from their lovemaking took over.

"Ah... Sylvie... God!"

Drystan’s control finally slipped as sensation crested, his movements instinctive as the intensity surged through him.

If he had known such pleasure as this could exist—so overwhelming, so consuming—he might have sought it long ago. Yet tonight felt inevitable, as though fate itself had quietly drawn them together at last.

"Drystan... ah! This... this... I feel weird... ah!"

Sylvia’s response came without thought, her body trembling as warmth spread through her. The release swept over her in a rush so powerful it left her gasping for air as she shuddered against him.

Feeling her tighten around him and hearing her utter his name, Drystan could no longer contain himself. Sylvia’s clim*x had clenched around his shaft, her walls pulsing, and he knew he was nearing his limit.

"I’m close, Sylvie! Ah! Almost... Ugh!"

Drystan finally burst, spilling himself deep within her after a final intense thrust, warmth flooding where they were joined. He buried himself deep in her as they both felt the moment.

Their breaths mingled, uneven and gasping, sweat beading on skin as they stayed entwined, unwilling to part.

The world diminished until nothing else existed beyond the union of their hearts and the aftermath of being completely present as faithful companions.

That night, they belonged to one another not by contract, but by choice.