Lust's Reckless Bloom
Lyra hurried after the fleeing boy. Tim's small feet slapped against the stone floor, his face flushed red as he darted around a corner, desperation etched in every frantic step. "Wait!" Lyra called, her voice a mix of concern and amusement, her curiosity piqued. "Why are you running like you've seen a wraith?"
The boy didn't answer, just kept going, his breath coming in short gasps. Lyra sighed, she couldn't go on for endless chases. She'd rather spar with sword than keep running. With a flick of her wrist, she whispered a gentle binding spell, vines of soft green magic sprouting from the floor to slow him. But the magic twisted unexpectedly, the vines too eager, tripping Tim instead of holding him. He stumbled forward, landing hard on his chest, and then... the floodgates opened. A wet stain spread across his pants and the floor, the acrid scent hitting the air like a slap. Tim froze, then burst into loud, hiccuping sobs, his tiny hands covering his face in shame.
Lyra's eyes widened, her teasing nature vanishing in a heartbeat. "Oh, no... little one, I'm so sorry." She knelt, unsure—pat his back? Run for help? Elves didn't deal with this sort of mess often. Spotting a maid rounding the corner, Lyra waved her over urgently. "You there! I'm Lyra, sister of Rayan. Help me with this."
The maid, a wide-eyed elf named Celia with dimples that usually lit up rooms, bowed hastily. "Lady Lyra! What—" She followed, gasping at the scene. But Celia was no novice; her hands glowed with quick-drying magic, a swirl of air whisking away the wetness from Tim's clothes and the floor in seconds, leaving only a faint steam. Tim's cries tapered off to sniffles, his blue eyes peeking through tear-streaked fingers.
"There, there," Lyra murmured, channeling the way Rayan had comforted her after nightmares in their youth. She ruffled his hair gently, her voice soft. "Accidents happen, even to elves who've lived centuries. You're brave, you know that?" Tim nodded shakily, a tiny smile breaking through.
But then, footsteps echoed—Anna, Tim's elder sister, stormed in, her green eyes flashing like storm clouds. She scooped Tim up without a word, shooting Lyra a stern glare that could wilt flowers. "Come on, Tim." As they walked away, the boy twisted in her arms, glancing back at Lyra twice, his expression a mix of gratitude and curiosity, before Anna's grip turned him forward.
Lyra exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Well, that was a disaster." Celia guided her to a guest room, soft with feather beds and the scent of fresh herbs coming from the plants. Lyra collapsed onto the pillows, chuckling to herself despite the ache in her chest. *Humans... so fragile, yet they tug at you.* Sleep came fitful, dreams weaving images of a fairy land where all races live with harmony.
Dawn broke with birdsong, and in the queen's private chambers, Elena sipped tea across from her mother, Maria. The room hummed with the faint chime of crystals, steam rising from their cups. "The elders' decision sits heavy," Elena said, her silver hair catching the light. "Dwarves home, humans watched like hawks. But those bunnykin girls... Mother, you're thinking of them for Rayan's harem?!"
Maria's eyes twinkled with mischief, her regal poise hiding a playful edge. " They have some reproductive knowledge. You want your husband to be skilled, don't you dear?" Now, tell me—how's the marriage? Any... progress toward grandchildren? Though I should admit you've surpassed my expectations."
Elena blushed, setting her cup down with a clink. "Mother! It's... going well. He's passionate, but still… he haven't got over the war. Maybe he'll need time to get comfortable." She paused, smirking. "And as for other things, His friends Natasha and Toha hover like bees to honey. Jealousy simmers, but nothing smooth yet."
Maria smirked and then slid a small vial across the table, its liquid swirling with iridescent glow. "Aphrodisiac, rare as starlight. Mix it in his water; it'll ease things along. He wont have enough of you."
Elena's black eyes widened as she pocketed it. "You used this on our wedding night? That's why things moved so fast?" Maria winked, and Elena shook her head, half-amused, half-scandalized. "You're incorrigible."
Rayan met Lyra in the sun-dappled courtyard later in the morning, her grin wicked as she hugged him tight. "Big brother, the entirepalace buzzes with your 'long nights' with the princess. Rumors say she's utterly charmed—did you slip her a love potion or something? Maids are talking about your princely charm?"
He rolled his eyes, cheeks warming. "Lyra, enough. It's not like that." But she pressed on, her voice turning sincere. "Seriously, though—the raid? People whisper about your leadership, how you charged in like a hero from the old tales. They're admiring you, Rayan. You've got what it takes."
Her praise hit like a gut punch, making him feel more pathetic than ever—knowing the truth of his recklessness. "Yeah... thanks, I'll talk with you later. I need to train with Natasha" he muttered, excusing himself with a forced smile. *Hero? I nearly got everyone killed.*
He headed to a secluded training room, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and sweat. Natasha waited, her silver hair tied back, athletic form clad in a tight tunic and leggings that hugged her curves. "Ready to get your ass beat up, prince?" she teased, her golden eyes sparkling as they circled each other.
The spar was intense—fists flying, bodies colliding in a blur of blocks and grapples. Natasha's competitive edge shone, her laughs mixing with grunts as she dodged his strikes. She got the win for the first round.
During a break, a maid named Luna, brought water. Elena had instructed her to mix the aphrodisiac, but in her haste, Luna overdosed it, the vial emptying too much into the cup. Rayan gulped it down, wiping his mouth. "Back at it."
They resumed, but soon heat flooded Rayan's veins, his focus sharpening on Natasha's flushed skin, the way her chest heaved. His adrenaline and testosterone boosted by the drug.
He lunged with brute force, pinning her to the mat, her body beneath his. "I surrender," she gasped, laughing breathlessly. But he didn't move, his gaze darkening. The drug surged, and he leaned in, inhaling her wildflower scent, lips brushing her neck in a sudden kiss.
"Rayan—stop, someone's gonna see," Natasha protested, her cheeks burning, but her hands clutched his shirt, overjoyed yet embarrassed. The room was empty, though, and as his kisses trailed lower, she complied, stripping off their sparse training clothes in a frantic rush—her tunic tossed aside, revealing her toned, sweat-glistened form.
Rayan couldn't hold back, the aphrodisiac turning him feral. He took her virginity in a rush, Natasha biting her lip against the sharp pain, refusing to admit it. "It's... fine," she whispered, adjusting to his intensity, her nails digging into his back. The session was messy, raw. Completely taken over by the drug, he forgot about everything and kept moving his hips. After two rounds of unbridled lust, Natasha collapsed, her playful spirit overwhelmed. But it didn't stop Rayan. He kept moving with the same pace . Finally after the third round slumped beside her.
Suddenly, The door creaked open. Toha entered first, her gentle eyes widening at the naked tangle of bodies, the disheveled mats. Shock hit her like a wave, but jealousy twisted inside. Her cheeks flushing. Elena followed, freezing at the sight. "Oh no...it must be the drug," she murmured, realizing her mistake.
Rayan stirred awake, blinking at Elena and Toha standing there, expressions a mix of shock and something else. Natasha still dozed beside him, and horror dawned. *What have I done?* He sat up, heart pounding, words failing as the room spun with awkward silence.