Chapter 1: The Phoenix King and Vixen Queen
The sun had dropped to the edge of the world, flooding the royal chambers in burnt gold, glancing off the steel and glass of Drakon’s armor where it lay discarded in a neat pile beside the door. He stood with his hands on his hips, casting a long, battered shadow across the lush carpet, boots sunken into what he suspected was the softest thing his calloused feet had ever touched.
Drakon grunted, squinting at the expanse of lavish bedding and the tall, firelight-lit windows. “So what’s the plan here, Queen? You want me to fuck off to some other room? Or am I on the floor? Wouldn’t be the worst thing—hell, I’ve slept on broken concrete, sand, snow, and one time on the hood of a burning truck during a fucking dust storm. This rug’s a damn paradise in comparison.”
Mirellia just laughed—a real, uninhibited sound, her whole body shaking with it, the strength in her arms and shoulders belying the silk of her nightdress. She padded barefoot over the thick carpet, all sculpted muscle and regal poise, towering a head taller than most men, and flashed him a smile equal parts affection and mischief.
“You’re sleeping with me, you glorious brute,” she said, voice rolling with amusement and promise. “We’re to be wed. The entire world is about to see the spectacle—force, unity, all that. You’d best get used to sharing my bed, Drakon Phoenix.”
He ran a rough hand through his hair, letting out a short, barking laugh. “That’s right. Political theater and all. Just as long as you know—when this circus is over, I want my tribe here. All of ‘em. Don’t give a damn how fancy the show is, the Mojave way’s different. When the waves let up, we do it proper, back home—campfires, good booze, the old songs, and nobody worrying about which fork to use or which goddamn lord to impress. Just family and the folk that matter.”
Mirellia studied him, eyes bright and thoughtful. “I’d like that. I want to see you with your people, not just as the Phoenix King, but as the man your tribe loves and follows. It’s strange—how you walk in both worlds. Ruthless in my court, yet you’d rather share bread with a beggar than a prince. I think… that’s why I’m falling for you.”
He shrugged, voice low and rough as boots on gravel. “Wasteland’s a bastard, Queen. Teaches you quick who’s worth your time. Most kings are born in silk and learn nothing but how to smile while they lie. I was born in dirt, fought for every breath, and if I’ve got a sharp tongue and rough hands, it’s because that’s what kept me alive.” He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And speaking of rough hands…”
With the bed creaking under his weight, he yanked her down onto him with a single, practiced motion—her body sprawled out on his, thighs straddling his hips, her nose nearly bumping his. Mirellia let out an undignified squawk, cheeks flushed, then burst into laughter when she felt just how unashamedly handsy he was, one broad palm cupping her ass, fingers digging in with open appreciation.
“Gods above, woman,” Drakon growled, voice rough and hungry, “you’re built like a goddess and feel like a dream. I’d call you dangerous, but that’s half the damn fun.”
She arched an eyebrow, smirking down at him. “That mouth of yours. I should be offended, but instead I’m… well, let’s just say I’m not in the least bit offended. If you’re going to be crude, at least do it with conviction.”
He barked a laugh, the sound reverberating up through her chest, hand slipping beneath the hem of her nightdress to squeeze her thigh and then her ass again, less gentle this time, making her hips roll against him. “Conviction’s all I got, Queen. And a hell of a lot of it. Just don’t get used to me talking pretty. I’ll fuck up your titles and say shit that’d make your council faint.”
Mirellia snorted, threading her fingers through his hair, gripping hard enough to make him grin up at her. “Drakon, I’m not here for courtly words. I’m here for you. All of you. Curses, scars, rough hands, and the damn temper too. I think I might even like the temper.”
He slid his free hand up her spine, voice dropping to a murmur. “Oh, you like the temper, huh? Good. ‘Cause I’m about to show you how much a wasteland king can make a queen squirm.”
She gasped, then moaned—a sound thick and sultry—pressing herself flush against him as she let go of every ounce of royal restraint. Drakon, laughing low and wicked, rolled them so that she lay sprawled beneath him, big hands roaming, lips pressed to the strong curve of her jaw and down to the base of her throat. Her laughter melted into half-muttered curses, matching him word for word, body shivering with the thrill of being handled, claimed, cherished by someone who gave not a damn for proper manners and yet would kill gods to keep her safe.
“I think I could get used to this,” she whispered, voice shaking.
He kissed the hollow of her throat and grinned against her skin. “You better, Queen. Because from here on out, you’re mine—and the wasteland doesn’t know how to let go.”
Mirellia arched into his touch, her last coherent words swallowed by the heat between them and the unspoken promise that, in the wasteland or the palace, this was only the beginning. Drakon’s fingers traced the delicate curve of her collarbone, the faintest bruise of her nightdress clinging to her skin like a second layer of skin, before slipping beneath the fabric to cup the weight of her breast. She gasped, her breath hitching as his thumb brushed over her nipple, already taut and aching beneath the silk.
“You’re so damn soft,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, “but you feel like steel underneath.
Like you could take anything I give you and ask for more. I like that, Mirellia. I like it a lot.”
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips, the way it rolled off his tongue like a curse and a blessing all at once. His hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting and survival, but they moved with a surety that spoke of experience and confidence. He knew what he was doing, and she was more than willing to let him show her.
“Drakon,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I’ve never...” A moan escape her mouth as his hands roughly play with her ass. He grabs her cheeks and spreads them apart, exposing her virgin hole. She gasps, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment and excitement. She's never been touched there before, and the sensation is both foreign and exhilarating.
Drakon chuckles, a low, wicked sound that sends shivers down her spine. "You like that, don't you, Queen? You like it when I play with your ass."
She can't help but blush, her body betraying her as she nods. "Yes," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
He grins, a feral, predatory smile that makes her heart race. "Good. Because I'm going to fuck it.
Rough. Fast. And you're going to love every second of it.
---
The air between them was thick with tension, the scent of pine and smoke from the fireplace mingling with the faint, musky heat of their bodies. Mirellia’s breath hitched as Drakon’s fingers pressed against the tight, puckered entrance of her ass, his touch both gentle and demanding. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the strength in his muscles as he hovered over her, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Tell me you want this," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against her skin.
"Tell me you want me to fuck that tight little ass of yours."
Mirellia bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she met his gaze again. "I want it," she whispered, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I want you to fuck me, Drakon. Every inch of me."
He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Every inch, huh? Well, I've got a lot of inches, Queen. You sure you can handle it. For it’s 15 inches long and 7 inches in girth with it being harder then steel and having thick veins all over it.” His hand moved down, gripping his cock and stroking it once, just to show her. Mirellia’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the thick, veined length of him throb and pulse with need. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the sheer power in his body as he leaned over her, his dark eyes never leaving hers.
Mirellia’s breath hitches as she feels herself getting closer to a orgasm just by looking at his cock which is the biggest and most impressive one she has even seen and just the sight of it and Drakon muscular body that covered in scars again the sun kissed skin and the cock the pale white of Drakon normal skin toneand the veins that are prominent and the head of it that is already leaking thick pre-cum that is glistening and the tip is already red and swollen. She can’t help but lick her lips, her body aching with desire as she want to be fuck hard and fast by him. She can feel her pussy dripping with arousal, her clit throbbing with need, and her ass clenching in anticipation of what’s to come. Her eyes are locked onto his cock, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she watches the thick, glistening length of him pulse and throb with need.
Mirellia looks at him and asks, “Drakon I will admit my sex life been pretty boring and disappointing but I never had my ass fuck like you are saying you want to do. But I know you need lubricant so how are you going to that to me. And look at me swearing and cussing like a common whore but your cock is making think like one.” She grinned, her fingers tracing the veins on his cock, her touch hesitant yet curious. “I’ve never seen anything like you before. You’re so big, Drakon. I don’t know if I can take it all.”
Drakon’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on his cock as he watched her fingers glide over his length. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her breath quickened as she looked at him, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear. His voice was rough, his words barely audible. “You’ll take it all, Mirellia. You’ll take every fucking inch of me. And you will love it. And about lube well there a simple way around that and it involves your mouth.” Drakon said with a smirk as Mirellia eyes widened with a growing lust and want as her mouth forms o shape as she lets out a soft moan as she moves closer to his cock . She can’t help but feel her pussy throbbing with need as she watches the thick glistening length of his cock pulse and throb with anticipation. Her fingers trace over the veins, her touch hesitant yet curious, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
Drakon’s voice is a low, rough rumble, his words barely audible as he watches her. “You want me to fuck that tight massive muscular ass of yours, Mirellia? You want to feel every inch of me stretching you open, filling you up until you’re screaming my name?”
Mirellia’s breath catches in her throat, her body trembling with anticipation. She nods, her eyes locked onto his, as she realizes he not afraid or intimidated of her body and instead is enthralled by her body and want to fuck ever hole and actually let her enjoy it. She can feel the heat of his body, the strength in his muscles as he hovers over her, his dark eyes never leaving hers. She can see the hunger in his gaze, the raw, primal desire that makes her heart race and her body ache with need.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I want it, Drakon. I want you to fuck me. Every inch of me.”
He smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against her skin. Mirellia moans at that and before he can react she starts to plant kisses on his abs leaving purple lip marks as she kisses his abs down to his pelvis . She can feel his cock twitching and throbbing in her hand as she kisses his cock and her tongue traces the veins and the head of his cock. Drakon lets out a low groan as she kisses his cock and her tongue swirls around the head of his cock. She can feel his cock throbbing in her hand and the pre-cum is glistening on the tip of his cock. Drakon’s fingers thread through her hair, his grip firm but not painful, as he guides her head down, his voice a rough whisper.
“Fuck, Mirellia…” His hips jerk forward, his cock pressing against her lips, the tip brushing against her tongue as she continued to plant kisses on his cock. She could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum, the heat of his skin, and the steel-hard length of him. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and saw the raw, primal hunger in his gaze. It made her feel powerful, desired, and she wanted more.
“You like that, don’t you?” she asked, her voice a sultry purr, her lips brushing against his cock as she spoke. “You like it when I kiss your cock, when I taste you?”
He groaned, his grip on her hair tightening as he nodded. “Yes,” he hissed, his voice rough and ragged.
“I fucking love it. Now open up, Mirellia. Show me what that Royal and beautiful mouth and throat can do.” Mirellia grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire, and slowly, deliberately, she opened her mouth and took the head of his cock between her lips. Drakon let out a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre-cum. She could feel him pulsing against her tongue, his cock throbbing with need as she took him deeper, inch by inch, until she could feel him hitting the back of her throat.
Drakon’s fingers tightened in her hair, his grip firm but not painful, guiding her movements as she bobbed her head up and down, her lips wrapped around his thick, veined length. The sound of his breath hitching, the way his body tensed beneath her, made her feel powerful, like she had control over this massive, dominant man.
"Fuck, Mirellia," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated against her lips. "You feel so damn good. Your mouth is like heaven."
She moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. "I want to make you feel good, Drakon.
I want to hear you scream my name," Mirellia murmured, her voice husky and thick with desire as she took him deeper into her mouth. She could feel his cock swelling even more in her throat, the veins pulsing with every breath he took. Her hands moved down to his thighs, gripping them tightly as she began to suck him with a rhythm that made his hips buck involuntarily.
Drakon’s fingers tangled in her hair, his grip firm but not painful, guiding her movements as she worked him with her mouth. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her breath quickened as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust and determination.
His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her movements as she bobbed her head up and down, her lips wrapped around his thick, veined length.
"Fuck, Mirellia,