Royal Affair Ch. 03 (Official) (Patreon)

The next few days blurred into a haze behind the East Wing’s closed doors, dim rooms, and endless “negotiations.”

The mornings often found them in Oberon’s solar. Parchments would be spread across the low table while Lyanna straddled his lap, the loose silk robe she had grown accustomed to wearing at his residence open, rocking slowly as she read aloud the latest clause. He would listen with his hands on her hips, occasionally leaning forward to sigh his name with a quill while still buried deep inside her tight, royal pussy. He’d often use the persuasion of his cock to have her yield certain concessions he wanted. It worked most of the time, and the queen would be left a trembling, moaning mess.

Afternoons were spent in the palace’s secluded gardens or the shaded arches overlooking Sylvanport’s harbor. Lyanna would walk arm in arm with the duke for appearances, discussing grain yields, wine shipments, and harbor duties in calm, measured tones whenever servants or guards passed. The moment they were alone again, he would push her against a column or pull her behind a hedge, and greedily kiss her as his hands grabbed at her plush ass from over her Verdantian dress. She’d giggle playfully against his lips as she stifled a moan, carefully listening for any people passing by. 

Evenings belonged to the bedchamber or the cushioned leisure rooms. The lanterns would be lit low, leftovers from their luxurious supper lying idly on a low table, their bodies slick with sweat. She would ride him on the thick rugs, or he would bend her over the writing desk still littered with documents, sealing each new agreement with another deep, claiming thrust. Every time she gave him what he wanted, he would reward her with a passionate, thorough fucking that had her moaning like a common whore. 

Between rounds, they’d talked, truly talked. Oberon told her about the politics of his city, rival merchant guilds he constantly had to outmaneuver, and the occasional royal scandal story he’d heard somewhere through the grapevine of court gossip. Lyanna shared the strains of ruling Verdantia at her age, the struggles of having an absent husband like Roderick, and the alliances that frayed without a strong hand. And always, their conversations were filled with ample amounts of playful banter and filthy promises: how he would keep her full, how she would return home carrying his secret, how no one else would ever satisfy her as he did.

By the fifth day, another message was sent back north with a sealed letter regarding her stay in Sylvanport, stating that she needed to continue negotiations to smooth out some charters. The council would understand. 

Lyanna signed it with a steady hand while Oberon’s palm spread possessively over her belly as he held her from behind, lazily kissing her neck.

She’d enjoy this greedy man’s company for a while longer, and no one in the palace or her own people dared to question how long the queen’s “negotiations” would take.

-

The next afternoon, Oberon declared that their negotiations required fresh air away from the intimate confines of the palace. He offered his arm with a courtesy nod as he stood waiting for Lyanna at the main entrance. She took it, her fingers resting lightly in the crook of his elbow as he led her through the palace side gate. 

For the occasion, she had chosen her usual Verdantian fashion: a pale, ivory silk gown so fine it seemed to be woven from the moon itself. There was a narrow band of intricate golden embroidery wrapped beneath her full breasts, before rising around her neck, leaving her shoulders, arms, and the elegant line of her neck almost entirely bare. From her hips, the skirt fell in two long, flowing panels, slit high on both sides so that every step revealed the smooth length of her legs nearly to the thigh. A sheer half-cape of the same ivory fabric drifted from her shoulders, pinned at the collar bones by a tiny golden dragon, the mark of her queenship. Her silver hair was braided loosely over one shoulder, and the emerald necklace rested openly at her neck. 

She looked radiant, regal, and deliberately provocative. Her presence was eye-catching enough to stop conversation in the street, reminding anyone watching that Verdantia did not share the prudish fashions of other realms. 

Oberon’s lecherous gaze lingered on her as they walked, his eyes dark with hunger and pride. 

They strolled through the lively, winding streets of Sylvanport, flanked by a contingent of his household guards and a few of her own. To the crowds, they appeared proper, almost formal; something normal in diplomacy between nations. Yet they would draw the occasional gossiping whispers

As they passed a fountain carved with leaping horses, he leaned in close, disguised as if he had something important to tell her without others hearing. His breath was hot, lips brushing intimately against the shell of her ear. “The water’s cold, love. But I know warmer places to get you wet.” 

Her violet eyes flicked over to him, and her heart skipped a beat. She answered with the tiniest knowing smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

He eventually guided her through the great market. The stalls were heaped with rare spices from faraway lands, rolls of shimmering silks, and cages of bright, colorful birds. Merchants bowed low for the duke and the foreign dragon queen. Oberon’s hand settled on the small of her back, thumb tracing slow circles through the thin silk that no one else could see. When the spice vendor offered her a pinch of exotic sparkling, maroon pepper from the kingdom of Kalfkasan, Oberon leaned in and murmured, “Careful, Your Majesty. That one tends to linger hot on the tongue.”

Lyanna gave him an amused side glance and tasted anyway. Her eyes immediately watered, gesturing to one of the servants for water while keeping a regal composure despite the heat wrecking her mouth. Oberon laughed as he handed her an elegant glass flask, his hand sliding a bit lower. 

Later, they climbed the marble steps of the open-air theater where performers rehearsed a folktale about a tragedy of star-crossed lovers. Oberon secured the best seats. The stadium was mostly empty save them and their posse of servants and guards. As the actors exclaimed their passionate verses, he leaned in again. “Never been interested in the innocent romantics,” he murmured into her ear, his hand sliding over to hold her thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to her crotch. “I prefer… the heat of passion. It’s more entertaining.” 

By the time they returned to the palace, the sun had long hung low and red over the harbor. Servants had already prepped Oberon’s private bathhouse. Steam curled like incense from the sizable marble pool, the scent of rose and sandalwood lingering in the humid air. 

Once the East Wing was vacated, Lyanna made her way over, already wrapped in a loose, silky robe, her bare feet padding across the smooth floor. The door was already cracked open, the dim candlelight spilling into the dark hall in a thin line. She carefully slipped inside, closing the door behind her and locking it. 

Oberon was already there in his own robe, standing there with his usual, smug grin. They stripped without ceremony, robes hitting the floor in a careless trail. Lyanna stepped into the water first, sinking to her shoulders with a relieved sigh. He followed, settling behind her so she rested between his thighs with her back flush against his hairy chest. He reached over for a soft cloth that lay neatly near the basin, lathered it, and began washing her slowly: shoulders, arms, the curve of her breasts. He kissed her neck between strokes, making her bite her lip and moan softly. 

His big hands stilled at her belly. 

“I want something important, Lyanna,” he said quietly, lips against her ear. 

Lyanna arched her brow, turning her head just enough to meet his eyes. “Oh? More exclusive routes and free duties? I thought I’d given you as much already.”

He nodded, though more serious now. “Influence in Verdantia itself. A seat on your high council for my chosen man. Trade envoys with real power. My voice heard in your halls where decisions are made.”

The words hung heavy in the steamy air. 

She went still, eyes wide as she stared at him, unsure if she heard him correctly. “Y-you ask for a foothold in my kingdom?”

“I ask to stand at your side,” Oberon corrected as he spread his palm possessively over her stomach. “Openly or not… Though the ladder is more realistic... Unless anything changes, of course.”

Lyanna tilted her head, water lapping at her chest. “And what do I get in return?”

Oberon’s hand slid lower, fingers tracing lazy circles just above where she ached for him again. He licked his lips slowly. “An heir.”

Her breath hitched. 

“It’s only a matter of time before you end up with my child,” he continued, his voice low and certain. “I’ve been pouring myself deep inside you every night for days. Giving it to you where it belongs. You know it’s coming, don’t you? How full I leave you. How it stays. It’s what your kingdom deserves… what you deserve… That foolish jester of a king consort you have will never give you what I do.”

Lyanna’s thighs clenched, her hand instinctively holding onto his wrist as he moved lower. She did feel it: the lingering warmth, the stickiness that never quite went away, the faint tenderness low in her belly that might have been something she’d imagined or might have been the first whisper of something taking root. The thought of having his bastard be named heir of her great kingdom sent a forbidden thrill coursing through her, a mix of fear and desire. 

She turned in his arms, straddling his lap, water sloshing between them as she settled down. Her soft hands cupped his plump face. “You’re very sure of your seed, my duke,” she whispered, her violet eyes searching his. 

“Aye, I am,” Oberon replied roughly with a smug grin. “And I want you carrying it when you go home. Want you sitting on that throne with my baby growing inside you, knowing exactly who put it there.”

Lyanna leaned in until their foreheads touched, the steam curling around them in a warm embrace. Despite how taboo it all was, it felt… right. She never thought she’d go down this depraved path, but the temptation of pure passion was too much to deny.

“Keep filling me as you have,” she said softly, “and we’ll see what happens.”

Oberon just rumbled a low, satisfied growl as he pulled her closer. His chest swelled with pride and triumph. He was getting exactly what he wanted. 

-

After their bath, they found themselves stumbling into his bedchamber sometime after midnight. The door shut behind them, and they wasted no time lunging at each other, their lips crashing into a desperate, heated kiss. Oberon shuffled them back toward the edge of the bed, their hands already tugging at the ties of their robes.

Lyanna let it fall, revealing her elegant, naked body again. Her skin was still damp and scented with rose from the bath. A sultry glint gleamed from her alluring violet eyes as she pushed him toward the bed with a wicked smile. Oberon obeyed as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyes were dark with lust, his cock already thick and throbbing between his thick thighs. 

She fell to her knees between his already spread legs, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders in waves. Reaching out, she wrapped her delicate hand around his veiny shaft and stroked him slowly, glancing up to meet his eyes as she pumped him before leaning forward and taking him into her mouth. Her soft lips stretched around his bulbous, leaking head first. Her tongue swirled at his leaking tip, lapping up a bead of his salty precum. She then moved lower, licking down the underside of his cock, tracing every vein and ridge with her wet tongue until she reached his heavy balls. She took one into her mouth gently, sucking and humming before switching to the other, while her hand never stopped lazily pumping along his length. 

Oberon groaned with pleasure, his head tipping back as the sensation of her hot tongue and soft lips around him sent a wave of pure bliss through him. 

“Gods… so fucking good, Lyanna,” he rasped as he reached down and threaded his fingers through her soft hair. “I love how you worship my cock like the good queen you are. I can’t wait until that flat belly of yours is rounded with my baby. I want you swollen and glowing on that throne of yours. I want you to feel that every little kick is from me.”

Lyanna moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his balls, making his toes curl against the fur rug. Her pussy dripped heavily with her arousal from the depraved idea of having his bastard. 

She pulled off with a wet pop, lips and chin slick with spit. Oberon quickly scooted himself further up towards the center of the bed. She followed, crawled to him like a cat in heat, her hips swaying from side to side… side to side… They met each other in another sloppy kiss, her tongue sliding with his before he grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion, settling himself between her spread thighs. She spread herself open for him, hooking her ankles over his shoulders as he teasingly ran his tip along her wet folds.

“Hmmm, Oberon,” Lyanna purred while eagerly biting her index fingers, eyes locked on his cock. “Put it in…” The duke smirked and pushed in with one long, claiming thrust. They both groaned from the familiar feel of each other, which they had grown so accustomed to during her stay in Sylvanport. 

Oberon started slowly, giving her deep rolls of his hips while taking a firm hold of her ankles. The warm glow of the fireplace spilled across her perfect feet, flushed pink from the heat of the moment. He turned his head to kiss one sole, then the other. He greedily dragged his tongue across her delicate arches before sucking her big toe in his mouth like a starved man. 

Lyanna’s back arched from the wet and tingling sensation.

“Ouuuhhhhh… Oberon.”

“Hmmm, that’s it… Moan for me, love,” he growled against her foot as he gave her a heavy thrust. His mustache scraped against her sensitive skin, adding to the already overwhelming stimulation coursing through her. The obscene slap of skin echoed through the bedchamber. “Argh—I’m gonna put a… yes… fucking baby in you. You’ll go home carrying my heir and smile sweetly while that useless consort of yours thinks it’s his.”

Her eyes fluttered back as his cock slammed against her cervix, causing her legs to tremble and her pussy to flutter around him. He didn’t stop. He kept his relentless rhythm, fucking her fast and deep, then switching things up with slow, rolling strokes that struck every weak spot she had. 

“Ah ah ah… uh uh uh… yes… deeper, Oberon, deeper—!” Lyanna screamed, her fingers curling into the damp, satin sheets. “Fuck fuck fuck—! YES!”

He gave the side of her foot a hot lick, biting her heel, and driving his hips deeper, the sound of the bed creaking and his heavy balls slapping against her ass ringing in the steamy air. 

“Hmm, what a naughty tongue you have… Tell me how badly you want it,” Oberon grunted roughly, his hips snapping flush against her. 

“I want it,” she gasped, her violet eyes rolled back and glazed with pure lust. “I want your heir inside me… please—!”

Oberon’s control snapped at her words. With a deep, rumbling grunt, he grabbed under her knees and pushed her legs higher until she was folded into a submissive mating press, ankles hooked around his hairy forearms. He pounded her royal pussy harder with short, brutal strokes, ensuring he gave her every inch of his big, delicious cock.

The head of his cock kissed the mouth of her womb with every thrust that shot jolts of pleasure through her entire body. Lyanna’s back arched off the bed, her damp, silver hair clinging to her flushed face as she moaned shamelessly. 

He bent his wide, stocky body over her and locked his lips with hers. Their tongues swirled in a sloppy dance. She moaned into his mouth, dragging her nails down his back as he ground against her clit with every downstroke.

Oberon broke the kiss with a ragged growl and rested his sweaty forehead against hers. “Get ready to take it, love. Take my fucking seed and get pregnant—!”

“YES YES YES! BREED ME!” Lyanna screamed as she threw her head back against the pillow, her pussy already clenching around his throbbing cock with her own impending climax.

His rhythm broke into desperate, erratic thrusts as he reached the edge. He slammed his hips forward, heavy balls slapping wetly against her ass. “FUUUUUUUUCCCKKKK! YEESSSSS!” 

They drew up tight, contracting hard as the first thick rope of seed surged into her welcoming depths. Lyanna’s toes curled high in the air, and her thighs shuddered uncontrollably against his dominant hold as she felt the hot flood fill her fertile pussy. 

Oberon grunted with each convulsing pulse, giving her a few more deep, claiming pumps to drive his cum deeper. He ground deep against her cervix until she overflowed, and it leaked out around his shaft. Lyanna whimpered in a breathless moan, her cunt fluttering and contracting around his cock as she came, milking every drop he had to give. 

He stayed buried, his chest heaving with exertion. “Augh… gods… so fucking tight. Stay just like this. Let it take,” he rasped, voice rough with satisfaction. 

Lyanna’s toes uncurled as her legs fell limp at his sides. She could only smile, wicked and pleased, before pulling down for another slow, swirling kiss. “You’ll have everything you want… and more,” she whispered a sweet promise against his lips. 

Oberon’s dark eyes widened as a wide, victorious grin spread across his flushed, plump face. Victory was his.

5 Months Later…

Lyanna was back in Verdantia. It was summer, and the Solnaris trees that populated much of the city bloomed, spreading their bright orchid petals through the open palace windows.  

The high council chamber was filled with the low murmurs of voices as an important meeting came to a close. Border skirmishes with a coalition of southern city-states had been settled, trade routes stabilized, and the new agreements with Sylvanport were already bearing fruit. 

And per usual, her king consort and husband, Roderick, was not present. He barely attended council meetings, opting to run training drills and drink at the local tavern instead. 

But Oberon was there. The duke sat on the far end of the long table in his formal black and gold. As agreed, Lyanna allowed him a seat on her council so he could be closer to her. He was appointed as a consultant to oversee operations between the two nations and provide “professional” advice to the queen; no one batted an eye at the underlying truth behind it all. 

Lyanna rose from the head of the table. Her hand instinctively rested lightly on the gentle swell of her belly over her elegant lavender dress. The silky fabric hugged her baby bump snugly, making her pregnancy unmistakable to those who saw her. 

“Council is adjourned,” she said, her voice clear and steady as she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. “Thank you for your counsel today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

The advisors stood, bowed, and filed out of the chamber in pairs. Oberon lingered at the table, gathering his notes with deliberate slowness.

When the door finally closed behind the final councilor, Lyanna turned to him. “Stay a moment, my lord.”

He looked up with the faintest, knowing smile tugging at his mustache. “Hmm, of course, Your Majesty.”

She walked toward him with a steady step, her hand cradling the soft roundness beneath her gown. The chamber was quiet now, except for the occasional chirp of birds coming from outside.

Lyanna stopped in front of him, her violet eyes meeting his dark ones. The emerald necklace gleamed at her throat, the same one she had worn every day since receiving it from Oberon. 

“I believe we have some… unfinished business to discuss,” she said with a hushed tone. Her slender fingers traced the curve of her belly as she teasingly smirked at him. 

Oberon cautiously glanced back at the door before his gaze returned to her, drifting down to the swell. “Unfinished indeed,” he murmured as he stepped closer to rest his hand possessively on her belly. “I hope our son is moving along nicely.”

Lyanna’s soft lips curved. “Oh? So certain it's a boy?”

Oberon chuckled confidently and moved closer, resting his forehead against hers. “Oh, I’m certain… though, if it’s a girl, I suppose we’ll have to keep trying.”

She rolled her eyes and turned, flashing a small, seductive look over her shoulder. His eyes widened, catching that familiar glance. “Shall we retire somewhere more… private, my queen? I believe you need to relax after such a long meeting.”

She smirked knowingly, returning him a curt nod. “I think that would be wise, my duke.”

Lyanna took his hand and led him across the marble floor through a side door that led elsewhere in the palace so that there would be no prying eyes to see. Oberon gladly followed; he had her curled around his finger. But despite everything, the favorable trade deals, secretly sharing a bed with the most stunning woman of all the realms, the bastard growing in her belly… his greedy nature desired more. 

He wanted more than being a mere secret lover…

He wanted the throne.

To be continued…