Sleep with Donald.

“Don't forget the bottle.” You laugh, as Donald, as he hauls you up and effortlessly carries you towards the bedroom.

“Aye, can't be doin' without that.” the Beathan responds, doubling back on himself, bringing the ale with you.

Donald deposits you on the bed, and begins undressing.

“You're sure you want to do this?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“Oh I very well may regret it later.” you chuckle, shrugging off your outer wear yourself. “But for now, let's just enjoy ourselves.”

“Now you're speakin' my language.” Donald grins, climbing into bed and embracing you.

You can't help but drink in his well-built body as Donald positions himself over you, sculpted arms on either side of your head. His body is criss-crossed with battlescars, a testament to the young king's warrior lifestyle, and a stark contrast to your softer, unblemished form.

“Spirits, what I'd give me, to be able to look at this every night.” Donald remarks, kissing your neck, trailing down your body with subsequent kisses, your shoulder, your nipple, before trailing further down...

“Jealous of your little sister, hmm?” you tease. Donald stops in his tracks. Something that causes you to emit a little plaintive whine, given his lips had just about reached your waistline.

“Let's... no' mention Kara, eh pal?” Donald asks, his usual gregarious demeanour conspicuously absent. You're not surprised. Given he knew Kara had asked you not to bed down with him again, the Beathan was surely aware, no matter how you both justified it to yourselves, this was a betrayal.

“O-of course.” you slur, to Donald's approval. Hands gliding affectionately down your body, the Beathan reaches inside your smallclothes, strong hands closing around your eager cock.

“Looks like you really are happy to see me...” he smiles, lowering his head, giving your tip a loving kiss.

“More than happy, I'm-” you begin, but trail off, a moan escaping your lips as Donald's get started.

He takes you in his mouth, sucking gently, swirling his tongue around your head.

You gasp in delight as the Beathan's lips come down, his ministrations a careful and affectionate act of worship to your sex.

Reaching down with your good hand, you stroke him, spurring him on as a rider would a horse, winding your fingers into his hair, the same shade as Kara's. Gods, if only you could convince the two of them to...

You're jolted from that particularly sordid thought as Donald withdraws his mouth, letting you fall out, wet, hard and frantic to return inside him, before refocusing his attention on your heavy, pulsing sac.

“Look at these! They're beautiful, Edward.” Donald says with complete sincerity, kissing and worshipping your testes. “Spirits, the sons you'll sire wi' these...”

“One can only hope...” you just about stammer out, as the red-headed king redoubles his efforts, sucking on your balls while stroking your shaft.

“Maybe we should send fae Jana?” Donald says. “You could breed her, give her her second child. Almost be like we were both the father then, eh?”

Even as you mostly suspect Donald is saying such things for the purposes of titillation, the idea burrows it's way under your skin. The thought of it, of breeding your lover's wife, his queen, in addition to his sister, is immensely enticing to the darker half of your nature.

Not to mention, your family would love it, demonic blood in Beatha's ancient and venerable royal house.

“Stop...” you urge him playfully. “You'll make me come, talking like that.”

“Aye, and that's the last thing I'd want, isn't it?” the Beathan counters, peppering your prick with sensuous licks and kisses.

With that, he shifts his primary attention from your balls to your member. It isn't long before Donald's skilled simulation proves too much for you, and you find yourself climaxing, spurting your seed into his open and awaiting mouth.

The Beathan ruler swallows your issue with an alluring demeanour that would put even Vanessa, your preferred whore to shame.

“Gods... you're magnificent.” you murmur, pulling the warrior king up for a kiss.

“Think there's a few thousand Deanians who could do with knowing that.” Donald chuckles, taking you in his arms. You have to admit, there's something soothing and reassuring about being held in such a powerful embrace. Not to mention being able to feel his hard prick up against you.

“I'd tell them.” you pant, kissing him once more. “Though I'm not sure what Einar would make of it, a king taking cock.”

“You never know...” Donald responds playfully.

“Now, let's do something about this.” you slur out, reaching down to caress Donald's member with your good hand. He's patient, but you can tell he's eager to share in the trembling release he just provided to you.

If this was going to be your final night together, maybe it was time, you thought...

“Donald, why don't you stop wasting time and fuck me?” you ask, your frankness taking aback even someone as experienced in carnality as he.

Once the Beathan's initial shock has worn off, he's rather hesitant.

“Edward, are ye sure?” he asks, his brogue laced with genuine concern, plus, buried somewhat deeper... a note of hope, anticipation.

“If I never tried it, I might be disappointed.” you say, playing off the nervousness you feel.

“Well if you're absolutely up fer it.” Donald agrees. “I'll be gentle, and we can stop the moment you're too uncomfortable, you have my word.”

You agree, and Donald begins to take the lead. He positions you on your front, haunches raised, as you yourself had done to many a wench in your time. It feels a little surreal to be on the receiving end of it now.

“This might hurt...” Donald begins, positioning himself at your hole. “Just a little.”

You fight to contain a gasp as the Beathan enters you. He's right, it is somewhat painful, but once he slides his manhood home, there's pleasure, a new and intriguing form of it too.

Once Donald has filled you with his warmth, the Beathan tightens his grip on your hips, easing himself backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, gradually increasing his tempo until your body thrills to his every movement.

“Gods...” you moan, as the Beathan pounds you again and again, hard, but not roughly. There's an underlying tenderness to his every action, a love that you've only really experienced with Kara.

Unaccustomed to this strange new delight, it isn't long before you give out, cumming, speared on Donald. His thrusts into you becoming more uncontrolled, erratic, moments later, he finishes himself, gasping out a wordless offering of thanks to his Spirits, and to you, as he finishes.

“So Edward, how'd you find it?” Donald asks, a couple of minutes later, when his faculty for speech has returned to him.

“If I knew it would feel that good... I would've never turned you down back during the Contests.” you admit, kissing him one final time as the two of you slump onto your backs.

-

You wake alone, your head softly pounding, your body, your backside in particular, pleasantly sore from your romp with Donald. You still can't quite believe you went through with that...

It would seem the Beathan king has slipped away in the night, so as to avoid any uncomfortable exchanges with his little sister.

Rising, you stretch, limp over to the wash basin and as you freshen up, consider what course of action you should undertake this morning.