Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

The weight of the obsidian spear in my hands seemed to multiply under my mother's scrutinizing gaze. Isabella's smile was a masterpiece of maternal diplomacy—warm enough to avoid offense, yet cold enough to convey her disapproval.

"I see that you have been very busy, Mister Henrik," she said.

Henrik shifted uncomfortably under her stare.

"Your son is heading to the capital to study at the Royal Academy, Isabella," he said, trying to recover some strong tone but he looked even more pitiful. "Those noble brats up there... they don't play fair. Harold will need every advantage he can get. This isn't just about books and theories—it's survival."

I could see Isabella's internal struggle playing out across her delicate features. Her fingers worried at the hem of her apron.

"Still..."

I stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm the one who asked for it, Mom. Please don't worry. "I'll only use it when absolutely necessary. The academy is primarily for studying, after all."

The mention of the academy cast an immediate shadow over the room. I watched as three pairs of eyes simultaneously darkened with different shades of sorrow and concern. Lisa's expression crumpled into barely contained sadness, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked down at her hands. But it was Rosaluna and Zoey whose reactions struck me most profoundly—their faces hardened with something darker than mere worry….

Isabella sighed deeply in the end. "Just... please be careful with it, Harold. Promise me."

"I promise," I said, meaning every word as I carefully returned the spear to its wrapping. Then I turned to Henrik, whose gruff exterior couldn't quite hide his genuine affection. "And thank you, old man. I owe you for this."

"You bet you owe me, brat!" Henrik bellowed, but his eyes crinkled with warmth. We both knew this was his gift to me, freely given, and he would do it again without hesitation.

The feast that followed was as I expected from my mother and sister's culinary skills. The dining table groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, seasonal vegetables prepared with herbs from our garden, and delicate pastries that melted on the tongue. The conversation gradually shifted away from weapons and academies to lighter topics—shared memories, gentle teasing, and the comfortable rhythm of family banter.

As the evening wound down, our guests began to take their leave. Henrik was the first to go.

Watching him disappear into the night, I felt an unexpected feeling. I'd never known a father, had actively rejected the concept of parental figures throughout my life. Yet Henrik had somehow slipped past my defenses, earning a place in my heart similar to—though distinct from—what I felt for Isabella. He wasn't a father figure, exactly, but something similar to it maybe valuable. I leant a lot from him the past decade after all.

The trio of Lisa, Riley, and Zoey lingered longer. But it was Lisa who captured my attention—the way she kept glancing at me when she thought I wasn't looking, her mouth opening as if to speak before she'd catch herself and look away.

When they finally prepared to leave, Lisa approached me one last time. Her hands twisted in her skirt, and I could see the internal battle playing out in her expressive blue eyes.

"Harold, I..." She began, then shook her head in frustration. "Never mind. Have a wonderful night."

She rose on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to my cheek. When she pulled away, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered, then hurried after Riley and Zoey before I could respond.

Part of me wanted to chase after her, to demand answers, but I forced myself to wait. She would come to me when she was ready. She had to.

After they all left, I helped Isabella and Rosaluna clear the remaining dishes, though they protested that I should rest on my birthday.

"Nonsense," I said, taking a stack of plates from Rosaluna's hands. "After everything you've done today—the cake, the decorations, this incredible meal—the least I can do is help with cleanup."

Rosaluna blushed prettily at the praise, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It wasn't that much work," she murmured, but her pleased smile betrayed her satisfaction.

Working together, we made quick work of the cleanup. Isabella washed while Rosaluna dried and I put dishes away.

When the last plate was stored and the kitchen restored to order, we stood together in comfortable silence.

"I think it's time we all got some rest," Isabella said finally.

We exchanged goodnights and soft kisses, then retreated to our respective rooms. But as I settled into bed, I knew I wouldn't sleep early today.

It had been two days since Rosaluna and I had last shared some beautiful moments. Given the significance of the day and the emotional intensity of the evening, I felt with absolute certainty that she would come to me tonight.

She had to actually because I was planning something big for tonight.

In the low chance she didn't I would be the one going to her room anyway because I planned this night long ago and it was the perfect timing.

Hours passed. I lay in the darkness, patient but alert, my heart beating steadily in anticipation but also something like fear but that wasn't exactly fear more like worry or apprehension maybe.

Then, so softly I might have imagined it, came the whisper of bare feet on floors.

My door opened with the faintest creak, and Rosaluna slipped inside. I could see the nervous set of her shoulders, the way she hesitated just inside the threshold.

"Harold?" She whispered softly. Though she'd grown bolder over the days since we started, some part of her remained endearingly bashful about approaching me. "It's been a while, so... can you?"

"Yes. Let's do it in my room this time."

Rosaluna's pink eyes widened for just a second, a flicker of surprise crossing her flawless face, but she nodded without question. She approached quietly reached down, gathering the thin fabric of her white gown between her fingers, lifting it just enough to reveal the smooth, pale skin of her knees before climbing onto the mattress. The faint press of her weight shifted the bed, and suddenly she was right there—kneeling between my legs, close enough for her scent to drift up and wrap around me.

Her lips curved into a small, private smile. "It's your birthday so I will be the one giving you pleasure."

My big sister, kneeling between my thighs, promising me a gift no one else could give.I was definitely the luckiest brother around in the world with such a caring and attentive and breathtaking big sister. I had seen Princesses but Rosaluna… she eclipsed them all without even trying.

"Two gifts for my birthday? I'm quite lucky to have such a big sister."

"You should be," she replied, pleased that her presence brought me joy. For her, my happiness wasn't a goal—it was an instinct. She'd give me anything, do anything, and to her, putting her lips on me on my dick wasn't even a gift—it was just natural.

I rose to my knees slowly and tugged my pants down just far enough for my half-hard cock to spring free. Even only partially stiff, the sight of it made her eyes widen slightly.

"It's… getting big…" She whispered.

"Because I'm looking forward to your touch, big sister," I told her, voice low. "My body's just reacting to you."

"I see…" She nodded seriously, as though I'd just given her a profound truth, then reached forward, her small hand curling around me. Her fingers were shockingly soft for someone who trained with swords for years—no roughness, no calluses, just warm, smooth skin encasing me. The contrast between the innocent care in her eyes and the way her fingers wrapped around my growing length sent a shiver crawling up my spine.

I nearly groaned at just that first touch.

It had been a week since she'd first and last touched me, and during that time, I'd only pleasured her, letting her recover from the night I'd left her face coated and dripping. Now, her hand's exploration felt almost like the first time all over again.

Without warning, she bent forward, her lips parting, tongue darting out—

"Sluuurp~"

—dragging a slow, wet lick up my still-lazy shaft. The heat of her mouth against my skin was enough to make my cock twitch, thickening rapidly in her palm. She was awkward in her movements, almost hesitant, and that awkwardness somehow made it even more erotic.

I leaned back slightly, letting her set the pace, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she explored me. This was only her second time doing this; I wanted her to find her own rhythm without me forcing anything. Later, I'd teach her more—maybe even use that little illustrated manual I'd tucked away—but for now, I wanted to savor her clumsy, unpolished devotion.

Her hand stayed still, just holding me upright while her head moved, her pink tongue lapping at my glans, tracing the sensitive ridge, dipping briefly to my slit. When she licked over my precum, her lips twitched in a tiny grimace at the taste, but she pushed past it and took me in again.

"Sluuurp~sluuurpp~~~sluuurp~~~"

The sound of her licking filled the quiet room, the wet slide of her tongue over my skin making my breath grow heavier.

"Yes… like that, big sister," I murmured, letting my hand drift into her silken white hair. Her eyes rose to meet mine, pink on pink, and the sight of her—on her knees, mouth working over me, eyes locked in a shared heat—made my stomach tighten.

Seeing the way I looked at her seemed to spur her on. She parted her lips wider and began to take me in, closing her eyes to focus on the feeling.

"Mmmhh~"

Her mouth was smaller than my cock demanded, but she tried—awkwardly adjusting the angle, letting her lips stretch around me, her tongue trapped beneath the weight of my shaft as she sucked in short, wet pulls for few minutes.

"Mmnffmffff~~~gluurrgh~~~sluurrrp"

I stroked her hair, my thumb brushing the warm curve of her cheek as I let her take her time. Her jaw worked, her breathing went shallow through her nose, and still she kept me in her mouth. The building heat in my belly began to coil tighter and tighter until I knew I was close.

"Big sister," I breathed, stroking her cheek, "I'm going to release my white thing… just take it."

She glanced up, eyes shining, and gave a small nod without pulling away. I let my hips rock forward, easing into a slow thrust, and her eyes widened at the movement.

"Mmmffh~~~"

She stilled her hands, bracing them on my thighs, letting me fuck her mouth. I didn't drive deep—just enough to feel the wet slide of her lips over my skin, the squeeze of her throat at the head—until the tension in me snapped. I pushed a little deeper, and then—

"Nnnhhh—!"

—hot, thick ropes spilled into her mouth. Her eyes went wide again at the sudden heat, the pulse of each spurt coating her tongue, hitting her throat. She instinctively tried to pull back, but the moment she felt my groan vibrate through me, she stilled, closing her eyes, letting me finish. Her cheeks flushed deep, her lashes fluttering as she swallowed around me.

When the last of my release slowed, I pulled back with a wet pop, a smear of her spit and my cum glistening on her lips. She coughed then, unable to stop herself, bending forward slightly and bracing her hands on the mattress while she caught her breath. A few drops spilled from her mouth, dripping down to the floor.

When she finally looked back up at me, her lips were still shining, her eyes a little hazy. "D… Did you like it?" She asked between coughs.

"Yeah," I told her, tucking myself back into my pants with a slow smile. "I loved it."

She had nearly choked herself just to please me, swallowing every drop I gave her without complaint. My sister was truly spoiling me beyond reason, and I knew that if we kept going like this, she'd give until there was nothing left of herself—but I wouldn't let it be one-sided. Now it was my turn to make her shiver and gasp the way she'd just made me.

I caught her by the arm, guiding her gently yet firmly, shifting her body until she was lying back across my bed, her nightgown pooling around her thighs. Her eyes widened for a heartbeat at the sudden change, but she didn't resist; she simply lay there, pink gaze fixed on me, her chest rising and falling in quiet anticipation.

"My turn to give you pleasure, big sister," I told her, a slow smile curving my lips.

Her hips twitched subtly, her cheeks flushing at my words. She knew exactly what was coming, and the faint quiver of her lower lip told me she wanted it as much as I did. Rosaluna loved receiving pleasure—loved the loss of control, the surrender to the sensations I could give her.

"You are so beautiful, big sister," I murmured as my hands found her ankles, tracing upwards in a slow glide beneath the soft fall of her gown.

"R…really?" Her voice held genuine surprise, as though she hadn't expected me to say it.

She didn't care for the praises from village boys who tripped over their tongues around her, nor from men who had tried to court her. All that mattered to her was my voice, my words, my approval.

"Yeah," I said, my eyes holding hers. "You have no idea how beautiful you are."

Her cheeks deepened to a warm pink, and though her lips didn't part into a smile, the light in her eyes told me she was happy—so very happy—that I saw her this way.

I slid my hand higher, pushing the gown up enough to reveal what I wanted most to see. In the flickering candlelight and the cool silver spill of moonlight through the window, I caught sight of her perfect, untouched slit—pink and closed, glistening faintly with the first signs of her arousal.

One day I'd push my cock into her tight, warm depths and claim her fully. But tonight wasn't that night. Tonight, I wanted to taste her as always.

I leaned in, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of her sex, and pressed my lips to her.

"H…haaan!" Rosaluna moaned immediately, her voice sharp with surprise and pleasure.

Two days without my tongue on her, and already she was melting. Sensitive—that was an understatement.

Like daughter like mother I should say.

I licked again, this time dragging my tongue slowly along her slit from bottom to top, feeling the heat pulse against my mouth.

"Hamnn!" She let out another sharp sound, her thighs snapping closed around my head instinctively.

It didn't stop me. If anything, it locked me in place. My tongue teased her lips, my mouth sucking them gently into my own as though tasting ripe fruit.

"Hmm!"

She jerked, her toes curling against the bed, and then her body trembled as the first orgasm washed through her. I felt it in the way her thighs tightened, in the sudden gush of her sweet juices against my tongue.

I drank her in without hesitation, savoring the flavor as I let my tongue sweep up every drop.

"You taste delicious, big sister," I whispered against her, lifting my head just enough to look at her.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly, her breath coming in shallow bursts. The thin fabric of her gown clung to her, revealing the shape of her breasts beneath. Her nipples pressed against the cloth, hard and eager for attention.

I'd never truly seen her bare above the waist—only fleeting glimpses when she leaned toward me or when she returned from training slick with sweat. But now, with her lying in my bed, flushed from my tongue, I wanted to see them fully.

"Big sister, I want to see your breasts," I said,.

"Haaa… m..my breasts?" Her eyes widened slightly, confused.

"Yeah," I said again, nodding once.

"O…okay…" She bit her lip, then reached up to the shoulder strap of her gown. She eased it down slowly, wriggling her arm free, then pushed the fabric down to reveal her right breast.

I couldn't help the quiet gasp that left me.

They weren't large—still developing, a small B-cup—but they were perfect. Pale as snow, smooth as porcelain, the skin unmarked, the nipple a delicate pink standing tall from her lingering arousal. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, making her breast sway gently.

I reached out, my palm cupping her, feeling the subtle weight and the warm give beneath my fingers.

"Haa… Harold…" She moaned softly, the sound trembling in her throat.

"It's beautiful, big sister," I told her as I kneaded her gently, feeling the spring of her flesh beneath my palm.

"H… Harold… continue…" She whispered suddenly.

I looked up to find her eyes glassy with desire, a hint of moisture at the corners. Her hand slipped between her own thighs.

"L…lick me… more… and give me pleasure…" She begged.

As a man, it was impossible to resist her—especially when she was asking like that.

I bent back down between her legs, pressing my mouth to her again.

"Haaan! Yees~~~" Rosaluna gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

I kissed her softly at first, then licked her lips, slow circles over her clit, tasting the salt-sweet mix of her arousal. My free hand kept caressing her breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers, feeling it tighten even more under my touch.

"Hmm~~~yeeees, Harold… haaan!"

Her second orgasm came with a sharp cry, her body jerking, and this time her release was more intense. Warm, slick streams coated my tongue and lips, and I licked every drop, swallowing her pleasure greedily.

I was holding myself back from taking her virginity right there—my cock was painfully hard, aching for her—but just as the thought began to consume me, the sound of the door bursting open shattered the moment.

Isabella stood there, frozen, her eyes wide.

"W…what are you both doing?!!!!"