"Lyon," Eirika traced her fingers from his chest down to his belly. He towered over her, having grown like a weed in the years since the Renais-Grado war had ended. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze now. "Are we sure about this?"
Lyon set the empty potion bottle on the bookshelf and kissed her. She winced slightly at the bitter taste lingering on his lips.
"Is it always so terrible?" Eirika asked, making a face. She swallowed twice, hoping to rid her mouth of the bitterness.
Lyon chuckled weakly. "Yes. But this potion is completely successful suppressing… him." They both still avoided saying Fomortiis out loud. "Do not fear for me, Eirika."
She rested her head against his chest. "I have never feared you, Lyon. I only want your happiness."
"I am ready," Lyon said. He smiled. "I have been ready for years, but now that we shall be married," and here he flushed, "I would like to please my queen."
Eirika hid her smile in his robes. "I would like that very much, my king."
Lyon lifted her chin gently. His adoring eyes made her weak at the knees. Warmth spread between her legs.
"Kiss me again," Eirika pleaded.
His eyes crinkled. "I fear we may be caught at this point."
Being betrothed made it harder to keep their hands and lips off each other. Even an innocent reading session had led to this. But, even hiding in the back corner of the library behind thick bookshelves didn't offer much privacy for their romantic rendezvous.
Eirika stomped her boot, huffing. "I should care more about propriety, but after everything we've been through..." She gripped Lyon's robes painfully, and he covered her hands with his. "I no longer worry about what others think. I do not care if we are seen."
"Oh, love," Lyon whispered. He cupped her cheek. "I do not care either."
"Then kiss me, Lyon," Eirika asked again, and he did.
Eirika gasped softly into their heated kiss. His lips pulled at hers, seeking, and she muffled a quiet groan. Halfway into their kiss, Lyon backed away, his face contorting in pain. He gripped his stomach, stumbling back into the wall, and Eirika rushed to his side.
"Lyon," she cried, panicked. "What is wrong? Have I hurt you?"
"Nngh," he grumbled, wincing. "It is nothing, love. You have not hurt me. Only," and he grimaced again, reeling forward. Eirika caught him, holding him steady. "Only, the potion's effects can be rather troublesome. But this is… new."
Eirika groaned inwardly. "L'Arachel! What has she concocted?"
Lyon breathed deeply for another few moments, eyes clenched shut. Eirika fretted, ready to call for a healer, but after some time, he seemed to recover.
"It has passed," Lyon said, shakily.
He knew Eirika feared the return of the demon king, though she would never voice it aloud for fear of hurting him. Fomortiis had been kept at bay for two years following the events of the Magvellian war, thanks to Rausten's healers and their Queen's talents with blessings and potions. But after everything Lyon had done, after all the people, including Eirika's father, that the demon king had killed, Lyon did not blame Eirika at all for her anxiety.
"Are you well?" Eirika demanded, tears flooding her eyes. Guilt surged through Lyon. He'd dedicated his life to ensuring Eirika never had to worry about him, or anything, again. Now, the sting of failure hit him once more.
"I am, my love," he assured her. "Whatever it was— has passed. Queen L'Arachel warned me of a new ingredient in this potion to help us, um," he went even deeper red if it were possible, "for our wedding night."
"Oh," Eirika said, thinking. "Oh!" she said again, realizing. She went pink. "I see."
"Mmm," Lyon winced in pain again, leaning back against the wall. His lavender hair feathered across his shoulders.
"Lyon, I think we need a healer," Eirika said, watching him. Lyon's next noise, no longer one of pain, caused her entire body to freeze and blood to rush south. Eirika's cheeks and neck grew warm; her brain warm and mushy.
"Please, come to me," Lyon said, his voice breathy, husky, seductive— a tone she'd never heard from him before. She immediately obeyed. He opened his arms, and Eirika stepped into his embrace. As he pulled her close and kissed her, a hard protrusion dug into her stomach; it strained against Lyon's robes, and her mouth watered, unbidden.
"What is happening to us?" Eirika asked as they broke apart for air, a bit groggy. The warm, mushy sensation in her head left her slightly dizzy, like being tipsy from wine, yet she felt in control of her faculties. Though all of them wanted Lyon— his protrusion, whatever it was, in her mouth and inside her womb, immediately.
Saliva from their kisses glistened on Lyon's lips and chin. His eyes narrowed with lust, lips parted in an erotic sight. He shook his head slightly, eyes locked on hers. Eirika bit her lips and squeezed her legs, intensifying the warm, growing pressure between them.
"I don't know," he murmured. "But, I want to bed you, Eirika. Right here. I'm barely resisting it now. Will you let me?"
"Here?" Eirika laughed, the sound light and dreamlike, despite knowing he wasn't joking. The thought tantalized her, and she smirked. "Very well, my king. But… can you consent to such a thing in your state?"
Lyon paused, clearly struggling with the potion's magic. "Yes," he said after a pause. "I can. Though I don't feel I can control myself fully. I fear I'll be too loud, and people will see—"
"Let them see," Eirika said, boldly, her chin raised defiantly. "I care not. I want my king to claim me."
Lyon groaned, covering his mouth and turning away. He still couldn't believe Fomortiis had said that in front of everyone. The mortification clashed with his lust.
"I've wanted you to claim me ever since… he," Eirika avoided the name again, "said that's what you wanted. And you shouldn't be embarrassed. I found it quite arousing. Now is your chance."
Her words dissolved Lyon's last inhibition. He pushed Eirika into the wall, making her squeal, and pressed his canines into her neck. He gripped her wrists, pinning them on each side of her head, and claimed her mouth again, pulling her tongue with his teeth. Eirika struggled against his strength, but her delicate boy had truly grown into a man now, his power immense, and the feeling of being restrained excited her more than she cared to admit.
Lyon pulled away, a thread of saliva connecting their mouths. He breathed heavily, staring into her eyes. His bangs were drenched, his skin feverishly hot. Eirika bit her lip again, as warmth trickled down her thigh.
"It's warm, so warm," he murmured, standing straighter and releasing her wrists. "Will you…"
"Yes," she replied, her fingers flying to Lyon's robes. Eirika pulled down his collar and pressed a quick rabbit kiss to Lyon's collarbone.
"What was that for?" he asked, bemused.
Eirika giggled. "I've always wanted to do that."
Lyon's eyes scorched with lust. "I need your lips somewhere else… please, love. I fear I will break through my undergarments."
Together, they stripped off his heavy ceremonial robes until he stood before her, clad only in his breeches. As the robes piled at his feet, Eirika marveled at Lyon's body, her hands roaming over his broad shoulders, chest, and stomach, then his strong, manly hands. His handsomeness took her breath away.
"Your robes are so cumbersome," Eirika marveled. When she moved them aside, she stumbled, surprised by their heaviness, as though lead weights were sewn into the hems. She glanced shyly at him. "Are you strong enough to lift me?"
"Yes, I think so," Lyon said, clearly flattered and embarrassed. "Come."
Eirika wrapped her legs around his waist as Lyon lifted her. With her back pressed against the wall, their next kiss was full of heat, roving tongues, and want. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while his hands clasped her neck. She craved his touch, breaking the kiss to gasp for air.
"Now I am too hot," she complained.
Lyon set her down gently—always careful, but now Eirika craved roughness. She would have to muster the courage to ask, because Lyon would never hurt her.
Eirika gathered her pretty blue hair, smiling expectantly at Lyon. His hands quickly unlaced and unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip to her ankles. He moved to her back, unlacing her corset until her naked breasts were free. His hot, eager mouth found them. She cried out, arching into him, craving his body against her soft, supple flesh.
She lost her footing and crashed against a shelf. A cascade of books fell to the ground with heavy thuds, echoing through the library. Eirika yelped, momentarily aware of their surroundings, but that awareness quickly dissolved into breathy moans. Lyon continued to suck her nipple into his feverish mouth while she clung to the shelf for support.
Lyon tugged her lacey lower garments down with a finger, then knelt. He kissed a hot trail from her knees, up to her inner thigh, and finally between them. She groaned loudly, arching into his mouth. His tongue dipped into her folds, and she cried out, eyes squeezing shut. Eirika clamped her thighs around his face from the overwhelming pleasure.
Lyon laughed, muffled and amused. "Are you well, princess?"
"I will be," Eirika said, though her voice hitched. Almost delirious, she added, "I need a moment to compose myself."
Lyon extricated himself and stood up, eyebrows arching as he noticed Eirika barely hanging onto the shelf.
"My apologies," he said, weakly. "I lost myself. Shall we move to my chambers?"
"No," Eirika interrupted, still frantic with pleasure. "There— the table."
She gripped his shoulders, and Lyon lifted her up, a delighted gasp escaping her. In three giant steps, they reached their table. Eirika tumbled onto her back, more books crashing to the floor as Lyon loomed above her hungrily.
Suddenly vulnerable and timid about her virginity, Eirika looked up at him, seeking reassurance. Lyon's seeming experience filled her with stage fright. She knew crown princes often experimented with castle maids and the like—her brother Ephraim certainly did. She wondered if Lyon had bedded someone else before, feeling a bit of jealousy.
"I… I have never," Eirika stammered, embarrassed.
"I have little experience. With women, at least," Lyon admitted, sensing her anxiety. "The potion is giving me quite a bit of courage."
That comforted her somewhat, easing the jealousy. But she made a mental note to speak with her governess about neglecting this aspect of courtship and marriage. How many young ladies had no concept of the marital act?
Lyon pressed a loving kiss to each of her knees. "A lot of this is instinctual, and we will be together. Do not be scared."
"I am not scared," Eirika declared, a puff of anger in her voice. Lyon held his hands up in apology. "See?" She inched her boots apart, spreading her legs. Arousal leaked onto the wood of the table, staining it dark. The scent of sex filled the air.
"Gods," Lyon breathed deeply. "I could devour you."
Eirika's eyes widened, her heart racing. Those words should have frightened her, but instead, they stirred a profound desire. Though she was known as a soft and caring princess, Eirika secretly yearned for intensity and even a hint of darkness— perhaps why she wasn't as fearful of the demon king as she ought to be, as others were.
"Lyon," Eirika's voice was small. "The marital act… it creates a child, does it not?"
Lyon wobbled, clearly overcome by the potion's effects. He braced an arm against the table, his head closer to Eirika's thighs. She almost giggled at his seeming intoxication— he was drunk on her scent.
"Yes," he answered. "It can— if the time is right in your monthly cycle."
Eirika's lip trembled with want as she whispered, "I would like to."
Lyon's eyes lingered on Eirika's belly, and then met her gaze, emotional. "Our child will be the future ruler of Grado and Renais." His eyes grew wet. "You truly want me to give you a child with this cursed body?"
"Do not speak of yourself like that again, or I will tell Ephraim, and he and I both will punish you," she warned, her voice trembling. Tears welled in Eirika's eyes as she gathered herself. "Twins," she managed. Lyon gently clasped her hand. "That's what I wish. A boy and a girl."
Lyon's eyes softened, and he nodded, a promise in his gaze. He pressed gentle kisses to Eirika's knuckles, palm, and wrist. A rare smirk danced across his lips, a reminder of his masculinity and desires as a man and a king. "Then, I will need to finish inside you."
Eirika didn't fully grasp his meaning, but in that moment, she didn't much care. "Do not be gentle, my love," she urged. "I am not so fragile."
"Yes." Lyon smiled. "This, I know."
Eirika lay against the table, her spine straightening along the hard wood. As Lyon lowered his breeches, freeing his erection, she marveled at the sight. Despite her lack of preparation, much of this indeed felt surprisingly natural.
Lyon took Eirika's hand and guided it between her legs. "Touch here," he advised softly. "While I take you. It will give you more pleasure." This ignited the same fire as his earlier words, and Eirika realized she might have a penchant for such intimate, dirty talk. This discovery intrigued her, something to further explore in their newfound sexual relationship.
She obeyed, leaning back with a long moan as her fingers circled, and Lyon pushed into her.
"Gods," Eirika breathed, shaky. Lyon's hands gripped her thighs, pulling her closer and keeping her steady. She felt raw and stretched. "Lyon, you…" she stammered, nerves jumbling her thoughts. "Will you fit?"
Lyon's smirk, both relieved and very smug at her unknowing compliment, elicited a giggle from Eirika. She loved seeing this side of him.
"How do you feel?" he asked. "Does it hurt?"
Eirika paused, letting her body communicate to her. A bit of discomfort from the pressure and tightness, but no pain. Exhaling harshly, she found that it eased the sensation. A gush of wetness between her legs made a debauched sucking sound as Lyon pulled himself out.
"No," Eirika answered. "Should it?"
Lyon smiled. "It should not. Only if I have been inattentive."
That pleased her. "How do you feel?" she asked playfully. "When you are inside me?"
"Ahhh," he trailed, his voice dreamy and lost in bliss. "Like a very warm, tight embrace."
Eirika hmmed pleasantly, and then realized— she had been deflowered on a library table. Femininity and tenderness blazed within her breast, and Eirika basked in the intimate connection with Lyon, feeling close to him.
Lyon moved with slow, deep thrusts, savoring the feel of her around him. The aphrodisiac potion hummed through his veins, urging him to quicken the pace, but he resisted. The library remained quiet, save for their soft gasps and moans and the creak of the table's legs. Eirika's breasts bounced with each thrust, and she bit her lip to stifle her cries.
"Love," Lyon managed through grit teeth. "I fear— I cannot hold myself back."
As the potion took hold, Lyon's thrusts became frantic, driven by an overwhelming, primal need that he could not explain, that he'd never felt before. To fill Eirika's womb with the children she wanted. His groans became guttural, his hips moving like a piston.
"Ugh, Gods," Eirika groaned, incoherent.
Her cries increased in volume and pitch as the sound of their lovemaking filled the library with slapping, wet noises. Eirika's hands moved to her breasts to tug her nipples. Lyon held onto her thigh while his other hand replaced hers between her legs. He used his finger to circle Eirika's bud with her own slick arousal, and she could hardly contain herself, her screams echoing around them.
"You," Lyon's cries were savage, guttural, consumed with the solitary goal of breeding his future wife. "You are mine, Eirika."
"Yes, Lyon," she panted. Her groans were debauched. "Please… claim me."
Lyon groaned, the thought of breeding Eirika driving him wild, taking entire control of him.
Eirika's eyes fluttered shut, her body overwhelmed by the pleasure. Lyon's rhythm faltered, signaling his impending release. With a final, deep thrust, he cried out like a wounded animal, bracing his hands on either side of her on the table. Pulse after pulse of come spurted inside her, coating her womb. Her own release followed, and she cried out, clutching him tightly as pleasure crashed over her.
As they caught their breath, Lyon kissed her tenderly and carefully pulled himself out of her. After a moment, he grabbed her hips and knees, pushing her legs against her chest. He gently rocked her back, and Eirika savored the strange, pleasant sensation of the seed coating her insides, as it trickled further back into her womb.
"That will help you conceive," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
Eirika's hands clutched her belly, imagining twins, thinking how wonderful of a father Lyon would be. How wonderful of an uncle Ephraim would be. Lyon's large hands gently massaged her stomach and the inside of her thighs, comforting her, and she sighed in deep pleasure.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Well," she said, then giggled. "Better than well, even. And you?"
"Much better," he said, his voice contented and relieved. "I truly love you, Eirika."
An advisor's awkward croak broke the silence, interrupting them, announcing the library's imminent closure. Lyon and Eirika exchanged a glance and burst into laughter, embarrassed but exhilarated.
"Gods, who was that?" Eirika whispered, as Lyon helped her from the table. They dressed quickly, the intensity of the moment still lingering.
Amusement twinkled in Lyon's eyes. "I know not, but I must admit… I care little." He cupped her cheek. "I find I only care for you in this moment."
Eirika gripped his hand. "We shall need more of that potion, I think," she whispered, and Lyon's breathless laugh was so handsome and beautiful that she vowed to hear it as often as possible, every day if she could.
Hand in hand, they escaped into the night, heading for Lyon's chambers. Their love had deepened, and their future together promised even more passion and intimacy.