Antarctica-or-bust (rata_toskr) wrote,

roads leading home

Title: roads leading home
Fandom: Warcraft
Series: Honorbound
Pairings: Llane/Garona/Taria, mentions of established Anduin/Khadgar
Rating/Warnings: NSFW; Explicit het with some minor kinks.
Word Count: 1244
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Stormwind gains another queen.

Llane is looking at his wedding band and thinking about Garona when Taria strides into the room. His wife's gaze is knowing as she takes in his expression, but it's the shining ring she's holding that makes his heart jump in his chest.

“My brother was right. It truly is a lovely color,” Taria says, handing Llane the ring and sitting down beside him. “We should ask Garona soon.”

“You are certain?”

“Of course, my love. Aren't you?” his queen replies.

“I know what I desire,” the king tells her honestly. “But I never thought we'd find a third to join our marriage and I worry about the kingdom. You know some of Stormwind's nobles will see this as an insult to the crown.”

“True, it might be quite a scandal, particularly with the dear girl's heritage,” Taria agrees. “However, we're well within our rights and not without our allies. You know Anduin and Khadgar are firmly on our side.”

“So we should set them on our detractors?” Llane asks, grinning at the thought. He'd pay to watch his brothers-in-law threaten some of Stormwind's more annoying courtiers.

“Tempting, I admit. But I was thinking a distraction not an act of cruelty. You know my brother would be happy to cause a scandal of his own.”

“Those two have more trouble not causing scandals and you know it, darling. Giving them free rein might be a dangerous thing,” the king replies. “If they were late to their own wedding, imagine what they'll do at ours.”

“Behave themselves or face the consequences,” the queen says fiercely and it's truly a shame that Stormwind's ladies have never ridden into battle with their husbands. Even Guldan would have fled at the steel behind her eyes.

"Of course, there won't be a wedding for my brother to behave at if we don't ask Garona,” Taria continues and Llane knows that she is right. He's been hesitating for fear of rejection but they'll never know the answer if they do not take that plunge and the last thing he wants is to wait too long and miss their chance entirely.

“You are right, of course. Tonight?”

“Tonight would be an option,” his wife agrees. “However, I was thinking that right now might be a better choice.”

“Now?” Llane asks, choking on a cough when his question is interrupted by a firm knock on the door.

“Right on time,” Taria murmurs, meeting his glance with a serene smile and then calling, “Please come in.”

When the door opens, Garona is standing in the doorway and Llane can only shake his head. Of course it's Garona and he can't even be angry at Taria's blatant scheming; he needed a nudge and that’s one of the things that he loves his dear queen for. So the king simply gathers the shreds of his dignity around him as Taria greets the half-orc regally.

“Hello, my dear,” she says, holding out her hand. “Shut the door behind you and then come sit down with me.”

“I'm not interrupting, am I?” the half-orc asks even as she lets Taria pull her down onto the couch.

“Never,” Llane replies before glancing at his wife. “Would you like to do the honors, love, since you planned this out so carefully?”

The queen gives him another knowing look, amusement flashing through her eyes. However, she accepts his shift of responsibility as gracefully as she accepts all challenges, taking the platinum ring from his hand and turning to their guest.

“Garona, my dear,” Taria says plainly. “Would you please marry us?”

“What?” the half-orc stammers. “Are you serious?”

“We are very serious,” Llane tells her, finding his voice now that his queen has taken the first step. “Both of us care for you greatly and we wish you to become our third officially.”

“But what about your kingdom? Won't a half-orc queen cause trouble?”

“Oh, yes. A great many people will be quite disappointed,” Taria replies with a soft smile. “But we can handle that. Don't worry about hurt feelings, Garona, just tell us if you want to. Yes or no?”

“Yes... of course, yes,” the half-orc says, her voice thick with emotion. “I thought... I've been thinking about this ever since you told me it was possible but I never dared to hope.”

“We have both felt much the same,” the king admits. “We should have asked you sooner and saved us all some misery.”

“What's done is done and there is no point in might-have-beens,” his wife reminds him gently. “We can only change the future. So, please, Garona, take this ring as a token of our feelings and our intent to make this triad permanent.”

Taria slides the band onto the half-orc's finger and the three of them take a moment to admire the way the metal shines bright against her skin.

“So... now what?” Garona asks. “Another royal wedding?”

“In due time, yes. But you know those events take several months to plan,” the queen replies. “Now we consummate our bargain if you're amenable.”

“Amenable? Are you joking? There's nothing I want more.”

“Then you shall have it,” Taria says before leaning in and kissing Garona carefully. Chastely at first, the barest touch of lips before she pulls back with a sigh. Not far, just enough to nudge the half-orc into making the next move. Indeed, Garona kisses the queen eagerly, burying her fingers in the other woman's coiled hair.

I am a very lucky man, Llane thinks as his ladies grow more heated and he fumbles with his braces when the half-orc lets out a breathy moan. The king is already half-hard from watching these gorgeous women twined together, nipping at each other's lips and trading hungry kisses, his length twitching sharply at the first flash of tongue.

The queen mouths her way down Garona's neck, peeling the gown off of her shoulders and then sucking a mark into the hollow of her throat. When Taria steps back to admire her handiwork, both women take this moment to remove their outer layers. Gowns and petticoats are laid across the divan until they are standing in nothing but corsets and silk stockings and Taria slides her thigh between Garona's when they move in to kiss again.

Eager hands roam freely, keeping Llane's gaze riveted as they trace the curves of breasts and hips. Soon the king can't bear just watching any longer. He strips off his own tunic and moves to Taria, pressing himself against her back.

The queen leans into his touch, stealing a quick kiss as she twists within his arms. Then she tugs Garona closer and Llane leans in to kiss her too, her tusks cool against his lips. He can't resist tracing the sharp points with his tongue and he shudders with heat when Garona answers him in kind, their mouths sliding together to steal his breath away.

Llane has to stop for a moment to try and regain his composure when Taria frees him from his breeches. She strokes her husband twice before switching places with Garona and he suddenly finds his arms full of the half-orc's curves instead. She's more muscled than his wife but no less lovely, luscious and soft in all the right places when Taria removes her corset and leaves her standing bare.

He takes a second to appreciate the sight before reaching out to cup Garona's breasts within his hands. Round and firm, her skin is smooth and supple here despite her other scars. Llane strokes her nipples with his thumbs, teasing them to hardness and then bending his head to take the left one in his mouth.

Llane hears Garona moan, the sound shooting straight down to his groin. So he sucks harder, focusing on the vibrations of her pleasure when Taria starts talking and the sweetness of her whispers fills his ears.

“Our dear king has a lovely mouth, does he not?” the queen murmurs to the half-orc. “Eager and so very talented; he'd be glad to make you scream. Tell him what you want and he'll give it to you, lick you open and worship on his knees.”

“Please, yes, I want to do the same for you,” Garona replies with a hungry smile. Llane only catches the edge of that glance as he switches side, but even that brief second makes him groan deep in his chest.

Indeed, he's not the only one and Taria's voice is throaty with desire when she speaks again, “You will have your chance, I promise. But first let us show you the pleasure we can bring.”

The queen slides one hand down Garona's stomach to slip between her folds, the first touch of her fingers making the half-orc jerk against Llane's mouth. He draws back to keep from biting and then holds Garona steady as his wife takes her apart.

Gentle circles intermixed with longer motions, the uneven rhythm keeping the half-orc on her toes. Taria speeds up when Garona starts to push into her hand, thrusting two fingers into her sex even as her thumb keeps stroking across the other woman's clit.

She brings their fiancee to the edge and holds her there, pleasure gradually wiping the last hints of worry from her face. Llane wants to see the half-orc like this more often; wants to see the stress of her position melt away to bliss. So he falls to his knees, leaning in and licking the place where she and Taria are joined. He slips his tongue between her folds and laps at the queen's fingers, savoring the flavor of his ladies on his lips.

He hears Garona curse as his wife strokes her one last time, the quick twist of her fingers pushing the other woman to release. The half-orc gushes sweetly and Llane drinks down her pleasure, tightening his grip when her knees threaten to give out. He licks Garona clean as Taria removes her fingers, the two of them holding their fiancée until she stops trembling.

Only then does Llane rise back to his feet, stealing one more kiss from the half-orc's smile before asking, “Shall we move this to the bedroom? It would probably be more comfortable.”

“As you wish, my darling,” Taria replies. “We must have pity on your knees.”

The queen takes Garona's hand and leads her through the doorway, two pairs of hips swaying back and forth enticingly. Llane is honestly a little awestruck at the sight.

He undresses quickly, laying his garments on the clothes' chest for the servants to collect. Then the king follows his ladies into the bedroom and he finds himself ambushed as soon as he walks through the door. Garona greets him with a searing kiss and by the time she pulls away, Llane is lying breathless on the bed.

“Right where I want you,” the half-orc says, looking at him with a grin.

“I'm at your mercy darling,” Llane replies. “What will you do with me?”

“Anything we want,” Taria murmurs in his ear. His wife is gloriously nude when the king glances over and he just wants to bury his face between her legs. But when he tries to pull her closer, Taria bats his fingers playfully.

“Patience, love. I promised Garona that she could lead this time.”

A warm hand wraps around Llane's shaft seconds later and his attention snaps down to the half-orc instantly. Garona's fighting calluses are rough against his skin but her touch is gentle and she plays him masterfully. Soon the king is aching, each motion slick with pre-cum as she strokes him up and down.

“Fuck,” Llane curses when Garona licks a wet line from base to tip, pulling back his foreskin to lap across his slit. She licks him thoroughly until he's slick and shining and then she just lets go.

It takes his mind a moment to catch up and by then, the mewl of disappointment has already left his lips. However, Llane is honestly more worried about the sudden lack of touching than about his dignity.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“I think I need a bit more practice before I try that with these teeth,” the half-orc tells him before grinning wickedly. “And I didn't want to wait to ride you anymore.”

“Yes, let's do that,” he tells her eagerly and he hears his wife chuckle in his ear. Llane truly loves that sound and the expression that goes with it; most nights he'd give anything to kiss it off her face. But today the king finds himself transfixed by Garona as she rises to her knees. The half-orc arches above him, her wild mane draped across her shoulders and her skin gleaming in the light. She could be a work of art, the image of a goddess carved from rock and stone.

However, she is flesh and blood instead of marble, her hands warm and her insides scorching as she guides Llane home. Garona is tight around his length and she lowers herself slowly, taking the king deeper inch by aching inch. It's the sweetest torture and soon Llane can't hold back anymore. He wraps his hands around the half-orc's waist and pulls her down, snapping his hips at the same time. The king is hilt deep in an instant, gripped in a vise of velvet as Garona throws back her head and moans.

He couldn't have stopped his next thrust if Guldan himself had charged into the bedroom, no rhythm to his strokes but the wild throb of lust. But that is no way to treat a lady unless she asks for roughness and the king is no inexperienced lad to lose control at the first touch of a woman. At least not for very long.

So Llane pulls himself together, smoothing out his thrusts and gentling his hands. The half-orc lets him lead for a moment, rolling her hips to meet each stroke and squeezing round his shaft. But just when she's getting close, Garona draws back, holding down Llane's hips so that he can't chase her sex again.

The king makes a noise of protest but the half-orc ignores him, patting his chest absently as she talks to Taria.

“What about you? It's not right to leave you out,” Garona says and beneath his raging lust, Llane feels a spark of warmth for his fiancee's thoughtfulness.

“You don't need to worry, love. You deserve some time together and I quite like the view.”

“But I want to kiss you,” the half-orc answers and the king hears his wife chuckle musically.

“Well, all right then. I think we can manage that.”

The mattress dips as Taria moves to kneel by Llane, leaning over her husband to kiss Garona fiercely. She's a supple line above him, her breasts round and tempting and the rest a gorgeous curve. When the king turns his head, she's almost close enough to taste and his earlier desire comes rushing back again. Llane doesn't mind the women's brief distraction, but left to his own devices, he can see no reason not to make his dear wife scream.

So the king reaches over and lifts up Taria. The angle is awkward and he feels his muscles burn but he doesn't need to move her very far. Llane sets the queen back down across his face and he licks his way up her thigh even as Garona slides onto his length again.

He gasps and almost chokes before finding a new rhythm, the scent of Taria's desire a warm and heady thing. The king opens her folds with his fingers so that his mouth can reach her sex, pushing his tongue deep to taste her pleasure while Garona rides him hard. The half-orc grips him tightly, her pace increasing with each thrust, and Llane could easily lose himself in bliss. But it would be far too selfish to fall before his ladies now.

So Llane focuses on Taria, the scent and taste and feel of her as she trembles on his tongue. Her pleasure gives him purpose, control enough to hold back his own desire until she is granted hers. The king buries his faces between her legs, nosing at her clit and licking at her folds. He tongues his wife open to leave her wet and shaking, the entrance of her sex fluttering against his mouth as though to pull him in.

Soon the queen is dripping for him, slick from spit and pleasure, and he strokes his thumb across her entrance, teasing until she bucks against him to take the tip inside. Tongue and fingers spread her wide and Llane presses closer until he can hardly breathe.

Taria and Garona fill his senses, two burning points of pleasure drowning him. Llane can hear them moaning, soft sighs and sounds of kissing filling the king's ears. Together the three of them soar higher, hearts and bodies intertwined as they chase heat and ecstasy.

Llane is close now, his length throbbing every time Garona slams back down and he rubs over his wife's clit until she's shaking in his hands. The king thrusts up one more time, lathing his tongue over all the skin that he can reach and with a cry, the queen is gone.

A wet flood spills across his fingers and Llane does his best to drink it down. His mouth is wet and sticky by the time she finishes, Taria shifting over slightly before collapsing on the bed. She sprawls half on top of him, her arms wrapped around his body and her gaze fixed on Garona as the half-orc rolls her hips. She reaches down to stroke her clit, her fingers almost blurring there between her thighs.
It only takes a few strokes before she comes with a moan that echoes round the room and the ripples of her sex are more than Llane can take. The king bucks his hips and drives hard into Garona as he finds his own release.

“Light above,” Llane gasps a minute later once he can speak again. He wraps his arm around the half-orc when she slumps down beside him, adjusting her position so that both his ladies can curl against his chest. The queen reaches over to take their fiancee's hand, fingers stroking across the ring of platinum.

“Are you pleased, my dear? You're not having second thoughts?”

“Are you crazy?” the half-orc laughs. “Consider our engagement on and indeed, well-consummated as far as I'm concerned. Unless you regret your offer? If you've changed your mind, I'd understand.”

Garona actually sounds uncertain and Llane cannot have that. So the king pulls both women closer and murmurs, “No regrets. No second thoughts. No take backs. I am keeping both of you.”

“Exactly, love. We would not have asked you lightly,” Taria agrees. “So please don't doubt us now.”

“I will try,” Garona tells them. “Sometimes I just can't believe that my life has changed so much. A few years ago, I never would have imagined that I'd lie with kings and queens, let alone get asked to marry them.”

“Just one of each, I hope,” Llane replies with a faint chuckle. “But you deserve all the love that we can offer and far more. Now, rest, sleep, and stop moving. I'm trying to enjoy the afterglow.”

Taria and Garona both laugh, the mood lightening as they settle deeper in his arms. If Llane knows his wife, she'll soon throw herself straight into wedding planning and at some point, he needs to call the servants for a bath. But that can wait for later. Reality isn't allowed to rear its ugly head just yet and the king knows that he won't regret his choices even then.

Screw the courtiers and the doubters, Llane thinks as he looks down at the women in his arms. Stormwind can only prosper when led by queens like these.


Tags: canon!au, fic, het, honorbound*, minor pov, nsfw, post-series
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