Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature, including incest. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.
My Lover the Exalt
Morgan braced himself for what was coming. Yet even as he tried to maintain a harsh rigid figure, he could not defend himself well. The sword-strike flashed before his eyes, quicker than lightning, and he fell on his behind with a painful grunt. When he next opened his eyes, it was to stare into the tip of the practice sword.
Looming over him, Lucina grinned. "Five out of five. It is my win, brother."
"Means nothing," Morgan grumbled. With a final, superior grin, his half-sister sauntered over to the tree trunk where they'd laid their belongings. There were enough supplies for a brief camping tour, bedrolls, blankets, and a few other oddities besides.
Morgan looked up, brushing his blue hair out of his eyes as he stared beyond the canopy of trees surrounding them into the sunny sky above. The forest surrounded them, hemming in this clearing like it was a private room in the Palace. Nearby, there was a convenient stream, its trickling like a faint murmur in the background.
Lucina returned, bringing a carafe of water. He rose to his feet and accepted the drink with thanks, refreshing himself after yet another gruelling bout of practice. He had nothing to complain about, honestly, in terms of his blatant inferiority at swordplay when compared to his sibling or dad. They were monsters, a cut above the rest of them.
Still...
"And with that," said Lucina, crudely wiping the water from her lips with the back of her hand without an ounce of royal manners, "Let's begin the punishment game, eh?"
Morgan groaned. "Can't we do this later? The sun's still up. Who knows-" He stopped, when his sister had sidled closer, her victorious grin never fading, and something keen and animal-like glinting in her eyes. She pressed her humble mounds, still moist from the mockfight, into his arm, and wrapped her lithe but strong arms around his shoulder.
"A deal's a deal, dear brother," Lucina whispered cockily. "The one to win can do whatever they want to the loser. Whatever. They. Want." She punctuated each word with a brief peck on the area below his ear, each puff of her breath there sending shivers down his spine.
Morgan sighed, resigned to the worst. He undid his trousers, letting them fall to the ground. He was now naked from the waist down, with his cloak the only thing veiling his nakedness from the world.
"That's better," Lucina murmured, now running her hands all over his chest. "Father gave me the responsibility to protect my little brother in anyway I can. And that means I have to make you take your training seriously. A perfect straight loss isn't good, Morgan. It makes big sister oh so worried..."
Morgan didn't bother to point out how in the past five matches, he'd been supremely distracted by the outfit his sister wore. It was basically a battle-"bikini", one of those undergarment styles gaining fame in the Ylissean fashion world for their very risque design. Lucina wore knee-high boots, and leather gauntlets (which she'd now removed), but that was all. The thin strips of leather barely held her modest bust from jiggling, distracting him with every move she made. And the very suggestive thong, practically running t-shaped through her very shapely ass, which sent his concentration reeling whenever she did a pirouette to strike. In hindsight, Morgan strongly believed such risky behavior on her part was deliberate. All to lead him down to a straight loss.
Although Morgan couldn't say he'd be distracted at all if it wasn't his half-sister doing the distracting. He had long explored every contour and slope, every nook and cranny of his sibling's body, and her actions had only made to summon past images of their coupling to divert his attention from the battles. How he'd kneaded her ass as he took her urgently and violently behind the pegasus stables on the last night before the final battle, not knowing if either of them would survive. Or of their secret congresses at the Palace, stealing kisses and more in the moments between Morgan and Lucina's meetings with various dignitaries.
Anyone trying to tell them it was a taboo would be firmly rebuffed. Their love had long bloomed beyond the thrill of the forbidden, had bloomed all the way in their past, in the future, when all they had was each other. Of course, to be prudent, neither of them had revealed their secret, which necessitated days like these where the couple would take vacation days to secluded places.
Pressing the practice sword to his hand, Lucina took position behind him and held his wrists as his hands wrapped around the handle. Her breasts were pressed firmly to his back. "I've seen that you've still got a problem with the basics. You have to hold your sword firmly by the handle, as if it were an extension of your body, of your hands. That way, should you meet stiff resistance, you don't let it slip, and you can still retain your firm grip on your sword. Now, I want you to make vertical swings, and count up for every swing."
The instruction would have been a lot more authentic, a lot more believable, had his sister's other hand not been busy rubbing his other sword to full arousal. Now, with both his hands gripping the practice sword and forbidden to go anywhere else, Lucina had free reign to grip his member in the same way, caressing up and down its length, her hands slick with sweat and water. "You can start now, Morgan," Lucina commanded, as she began to rub and flick the head of his cock, making him grit his teeth, his legs trembling from the position.
"O-one..." He said, swinging half-heartedly.
"Again." She whispered, squeezing a ball tightly, making him gasp. Her breath was sweet, like something flowery.
"One!" he hissed, swinging with more force. The action made him move his body, and through that, his dick, which would've flopped up and about if Lucina hadn't kept a firm hold.
"You see how stronger, how more robust your swings can get if you keep a strong hold over your weapon?" Lucina said. "Your legs, however, have lost their root. You can be sent low by a massive, more powerful swing. And with a body like yours..." His sister let his cock go, and began to massage the inside of his thighs, her fingers like soft, delicate downy wings sending thrills up his spine and making his already stiff member twitch, impatient. The slick warmth her palms left behind made his knees tremble in this rigid position even more, which she noticed. She made a shushing sound, gripping his knees and making him widen his legs-giving her more access to the whole of his crotch. She began to caress that area, as sensations like a thousand feathers running all around there made his squatting position all the more precarious. She boldly molded his balls like two pieces of dangling fruit, poking them without making it really hurt. "I'm not hearing it," she said.
"One!" he all but screamed, swinging his sword. "Two! Three!" As he went on, swinging his sword, shouting the count with every swing, focusing on winning this second phase of their game, Morgan became less and less aware of what his sister was doing to his member; all he felt down there was a melting sensation rapidly building up from the root of his cock to the tip, spreading all around his crotch until it was like his whole lower body had become just one big fireball of pleasure, all ready to explode on a moment's notice.
"Th-this is cheating," he managed to grit out, once he'd reached the count of thirty. Lucina seemed to have abandoned all pretense of training him, having not actually seen that his sword swings had not been entirely straight. He could feel her heart thrumming on his back, loud and fast, as her rapid breaths made her squashed breasts heave against him many times. Morgan looked down, saw her hands wrapped all around his member, the latter already slick and sore, primed as she pumped with ever-more speed.
"I'm..." Lucina grunted. "I'm... just... unused to this... new weapon..!"
"Liar," he said, chuckling. "You've used it many times, my dear Exalt."
"I don't hear you counting, brother mine," she said, her hot breaths practically tickling his neck. He could feel her drool, wet against his shoulder as her entranced gaze was fixed on his throbbing cock. Morgan groaned, struggling against her relentless assault, against the waves of sheer, unadulterated pleasure turning the whole region below his waist into a furnace, with all the willpower he could muster. The forest shimmered before his eyes.
"Are you giving up?" she asked, lathering his ears in her lust-filled drool. "... Come now, one more swing, and you'll win this round. One more swing, brother." He raised his hands, and when he did her speed seemed to double before his eyes, and her hand reached up inside his cloak to tweak at one of his nipples. Being manhandled in this way sent imagination after imagination coursing through the blackness behind his eyelids as he strained against the pressure to come. But he was unable to escape, unable to reposition himself to stave off the prickling sensation of an approaching climax. Her voice echoed in his mind: give up, give up, give up...
"Very well. I'll count down from ten. If you hold out once I've reached zero, then you'll have won today, brother." Then, putting her mouth so close to his ear, she began to count down in the hottest, most sultry voice he'd ever heard her say.
"Ten. Nine." She said this slowly, every word like butter sliming its way through the core of his being.
"Eight... Seven... Six." A little louder now, and she'd begun to use her fingers to tickle him in a place where she knew well he was sensitive.
"Five... Four... Three..." On the third, he cried out, dropping the sword with a final crack that sent thunderous rumbles through his besieged mind. It was as if his castle had finally been breached, and it only remained to defend against the onslaught of enemies pouring in. He could no longer swing to escape, to win.
It only remained to surrender. A small voice in his head repeated that word, in his sister's voice, many, many times.
"Two..." Her voice like luscious milk, reminding him of the days when all this was fresh and new, in the far future before they'd realized their blood relation. With two fingers clamped on the trunk of his member, she made rotating, squeezing motions, as if she were extracting milk from a cow.
"One..." His passion soared like a crescendo, sending his awareness to the far reaches of the sky. With it went the last vestiges of his resistance, as he finally let go of the rational part of his mind that clung to the superiority of the game, that succumbed, submitted to his sister.
"It's alright. You can cum, Morgan. Give in to your sister. Cum. Cum. Surrender to Lucina." In the space between numbers, she whispered that, or was that his imagination?
"Zero." And with that word, as if sensing his defeat, Lucina cupped both her hands against the head of his cock as the tip burst in a cloud of white, white like a flag of defeat. "Shshhh... It's alright, it's alright, that's good, you're doing great, let it all out, let your big sister take it all ..." he could hear her whisper echoing in his ragged-out mind as he came without abandon into his sister's palms, the white globules of sperm dripping out from the spaces of her fingers to coat her hands in a fine film of sperm. He felt sorry for his boys, like they were soldiers betrayed by a cowardly, useless king, convulsing in pleasure and spurting his precious essence away, sold willingly to an alluring temptress. But oh, what a temptress.
Exhaling one loud, last time after the final, defiant spurt, he lay against his sister's body, his legs no longer capable of standing after such an exertion. His knees trembled, but Lucina was able to keep him up. His penis, too.
He turned his head and met her wet kiss, his lips parting, allowing her tongue to invade, to thoroughly explore his mouth as a victorious ruler's right. She had definitely won this round, and he was gracious, even in defeat. He groaned into the kiss, and a long film of their mixed saliva bridged their lips when it ended, a bridge which Lucina sucked quickly into her own mouth as she smiled impishly at him, her eyes smug from her overwhelming win.
She unclasped her hands over his spent member, allowing a few drops of semen to stain the grass as she brought her palm to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to gather white, sticky globules into her waiting mouth. "How sad," she said, in-between gulps. "I know how much you were looking forward to that bizarre bestiality fantasy of yours."
He suddenly rose, muscles galvanized, seized her in his hands and carried her over bridal-style to the trees. His cock was still hard, raring for revenge. "You cheated," he whined, running his eyes over her bikini-clad body. "So this is payback. Don't worry, no bestiality-I'm no cheater."
Lucina giggled, making no move to escape his grasp. She pecked him on the cheek, then threw her arms around him. "Oh brother. You're ever a sore loser."
Hello guys, this is Jon, apologizing to those folks anxiously waiting on my other story! The short version is that a number of fellas wanted to commission me to write something for them, and I quite enthusiastically complied! Unfortunately some things fell through, which left a pretty bad taste in my mouth. But a couple of folks came through, good on them, and I can finally show their commissioned works here for all to see!
A thanks to PBFlyer for commissioning this story. He's got one more commissioned for this series, so watch out! If you'd like more from this series, or a commission on another kind of work entirely, good news! I've got my commission system all set up and I'm anxious to hear from anyone wanting their own piece of personalized smut. Please PM me here, on this account or on "RHoldhous" over at archiveofourown for more details.