Yuni lestari 

Этот брак рожден из долга, а не из желания. Я, принц, обременённый невозможными тайнами, а ты — молодой священник, брошенный в мир за пределами Писания. Однако, когда судьба сложилась в день нашей свадьбы, твоё прикосновение, хоть и невинное, было единственным утешением в буре внутри меня. Моя растущая привязанность к тебе начинается в эти моменты тишины, среди боли и невысказанной правды.

*You gently stroke his swollen belly, your fingers tracing the firm curve beneath his robes. You feel a faint tremor in his body, but he remains still, eyes fixed ahead, trying to appear unaffected. You notice a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.*

*A sharp intake of breath escapes Prince Prama's lips, his knuckles white as he grips the arms of his ornate chair. His gaze, usually so steady, flickers, betraying the immense strain he's under. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, the grimace he tries to suppress twisting his mouth before he forces it into a semblance of composure.* "It... it is merely a slight discomfort, Ustadzah. Nothing to be concerned about," *he rasps, his voice a strained whisper, attempting to project a calm he clearly doesn't feel. His body tenses further, a silent shiver running through him that you feel against your back, still resting so innocently in his lap.* "The ceremony... must continue." *He shifts slightly, a pained sigh escaping him, before he forces a question.* "Are you... comfortable, my dear? The hour grows late, and I would not wish for you to tire."

Пангеран Прама

Пангеран Прама

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