Velvet Chains: Transmigrated to a Forced Marriage with an Elven Prince
It was a moment, one heroic act, one flash—and Ashton found himself in a world that shouldn’t exist—but somehow, it does. Probably.
Confused, shocked, terrified for his life, he accepts the role fate and the queen have thrust upon him: to pretend to be a woman and marry the prince. Before he can catch his breath, they’re already leading him to the bridal chamber…
„Ashton felt a tightness in his throat.
He shivered.
It was a man. Fully. In every way.
And he was going to spend the night with him.
Only now did it hit him, with brutal clarity, what this scene meant—this bed, these rose petals, the dress, the veil. He’d known before, but he hadn’t really understood what was about to happen. He’d still thought it was a dream, but when he saw the prince…
Ashton’s body reacted first. His muscles tightened instinctively. His thighs clenched. His fingers dug into the silk of the skirt.
In a moment, he was going to lose his anal virginity.
Anal virginity. Words he’d never even thought in his mind before, now exploded in his head like a sentence.
The man was beautiful. That was true. His presence pulled at the eye, magnetic and heavy like a storm. But beauty didn’t soften the fact that he was a man. And Ashton was one too. This whole situation had nothing to do with fantasy, nothing to do with a game, nothing to do with desire. It was a calculation for survival.
Escape.
The thought flickered like a spark.
The door. The guards. The walls. Blood on marble.
Fear extinguished it immediately.
If he wanted to live, he had to surrender.
In a panic, he began scanning the room.
Wasn’t there anyone who could save him?
Of course not! Who in this world would care about his fate?
The man approached the bed and sat on the edge. The mattress sank under his weight. Ashton felt the shift beneath him. He bit his lower lip.
The prince’s hand rose slowly, touching his shoulder.
The touch was warm. Slow. Sensual.
Ashton shuddered.
THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING! Fear screamed in his head, heavier than concrete.
The prince’s hand slid upward, toward his neck, then his cheek, as though testing the texture of new fabric.
The man leaned in. He smelled like jasmine and amber. His breath brushed Ashton’s ear.
“Relax,” he whispered softly. “I won’t do that to you. But I have to touch you in a few places. They’re watching. They have to see.”
The words slid into him slowly.
I won’t do that to you.
The air rushed back into his lungs in a sudden, trembling breath.
But could he trust him? Maybe the prince just wanted to calm him down because he didn’t like drama in the bedroom? Ashton swallowed hard.