the queen’s tutor
This story is 18+ and NSFW
Queen Mareleia of the Four Kingdoms knew what she was doing was very, very wrong.
She knew she should keep her nose to the grindstone and go to meetings. Hear complaints and solve all the problems no one else had the power to solve. Yet twirling the gold band on her left hand, she fled the council chamber and took the stairs by twos.
She tried to ignore the breathtaking increase of her pulse, tried to keep her feet from working themselves in a run. She waved graciously at everyone she passed and accepted wishes of luck and success with a tight smile. Enjoy your lesson, Your Majesty! someone said. My queen, you are such an inspiration! another praised.
Each step had her cringing more and more. Everyone thought she was on her way to fulfill her duty. To do something for the good of the Crown.
How wrong they were.
The first time it happened was an accident. Mareleia had been tired and frustrated from a particularly unproductive meeting with Nightmire’s foreign dignitaries, so she’d done what any great ruler would do: she fled and found solace in the library. She hadn’t expected him to be there, and she certainly hadn’t expected their chance encounter to escalate to that.
Afterwards, she told him it wouldn’t happen again—couldn’t. Yet it did. The very next day. And then again the day after that. Weeks later, their trysts had become so frequent she’d started telling people she was meeting with a tutor. An attempt to more deeply learn the geopolitical history of their continent. Or something. It was vague and likely suspicious to anyone who bothered to think on it, but it made the tedious Lord Gildan smile—rare given that he usually preferred to complain.
So Mareleia started lying. To her court, her loved ones. It became a dirty little secret that excited her more than she was willing to admit. Every day at noon, she made her way to the library under the guise of education, only to be pushed up against the stacks and thoroughly ravished. Only to be completely and utterly selfish.
Every time, she told him it was the last time. It never was.
The sight of the grand library doors sent a rush of shimmering heat through her blood. Quietly as she could muster, she turned the bronze handle and slipped inside.
Crystal-clear silence greeted her ears, nothing but the soft click of the latch shutting at her back. A glance around confirmed the scholars had abandoned their scrolls in favour of lunch, leaving the endless mahogany aisles clear. It was so still she could hear her quickening breaths echoing into the arched rungs of the vaulted ceiling.
But though the library might seem empty, it did not mean she was alone.
It had become something of a game to find each other between shadows and dusty beams of sunlight. A hunt even. They had no set meeting spot. Change was part of the thrill. Occasionally, she surprised him, like the time she’d all but tackled him to the floor and ridden him in the Conjuration Magics section—just hearing the soft brush of a turning page now lit her up like wildfire.
But usually, he found her first.
When he did … the thought alone sent a shiver down Mareleia’s spine.
Muffling her movements by keeping to the carpets, she followed along the edge of the wall. A knot of fizzy tension coiled low in her stomach as she navigated comfortable armchairs, tables covered in parchment and heavy tomes, through rainbows cast by stained glass windows.
The anticipation threatened to buckle her knees, but she darted from aisle to aisle, working toward the back of the library, where torches flickered with magical flame. Windows receded and darkness grew—a space for rarer and more important books to hide from the sun. The scent of paper and dust brought heat to her cheeks. The book’s spines grew thicker, more weathered, tempting her to trace their details, but as her skin prickled and a feeling of being watched worked up her spine, Mareleia’s fingers twitched for a different touch.
And the large hand that wrapped around her waist, without sound or warning, told her she was going to get exactly what she wanted.
Mareleia gasped as her back hit a hard chest, and she was pressed up against the stacks. A familiar body cloaked her, filling her lungs with spice and leather. Her palms caught on the edge of a shelf, fingers clutching tight.
Lips pressed beneath her ear. “You’re late,” Warran said onto her skin, his usually honeyed voice rough. A kiss skimmed her pulse point, making her toes curl.
“Then don’t waste time.” She leaned back into his warmth, breath hitching when she felt him hard and ready. The library seemed to be having the same effect on both of them. “The scholars won’t be gone much longer.” And they couldn’t get caught.
Story continues below
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Warran breathed a laugh, the sound followed by the click of metal as he undid his belt, his pants. His hands came to her thighs, lifting her skirts. “Have I told you how much I love these dresses?”
Mareleia’s eyes fluttered on a moan as he nipped at her ear. “You may have mentioned it once or twice,” she simpered. But her coy smile faltered as his length pressed to her bare skin, as Warran’s rough grip tipped her hips forward. A long moan breathed from her lips as he slid back and forth across her folds—but not entering her.
Sparks bloomed through her abdomen as his thumb found that spot between her thighs, getting her ready to take him. A tease of her breast with his other hand sent billows of heat to every corner of her tingling skin. If she knew any elemental magic, she’d have burned down this entire library a dozen times over because of him.
Mareleia gasped his name as his hardness skimmed her wet entrance another time, and he clapped a hand over her mouth with a low laugh.
“You have to be quiet,” he reminded her. His other hand steadied her hips, angling her just right. Mareleia braced herself harder against the shelves, head falling back onto his shoulder. “Can you do that?”
Warran removed his hand from her mouth. Her neck arched until she found his hungry, dark eyes. She whimpered as he lined up their bodies, the head of him just barely slipping into her.
“Yes.” She reached around, touching him wherever she could, trying to get closer. Her fingers fisted in the sleeve of the tunic she wished was in shreds at her feet. Panting, she ordered, “Now stop making me wait for you.”
In answer, Warran’s beautiful mouth split into a wicked grin. He grabbed her chin and pressed that smile to her lips in a ravenous kiss. His tongue swept through her mouth, swallowing up every sound as he eased his hips forward and pushed all the way inside her.
Mareleia’s moan bounced off the castle stones. Warran’s breaths turned ragged, he stilled inside her, filling her to that perfect blissful spot between pleasure and pain. She never got used to this moment. The beginning of their joining. No matter how little time they had, Mareleia always savoured it, always took a second of pause to feel him, to breathe a sigh of relief that they were finally together again. Complete.
Warran kissed her deeply, right there with her. When she was ready, she snaked an arm back and around his neck. She wove her fingers into his hair and tugged. A groan rumbled in his throat at the silent order, and he pulled out nearly all the way to slam back in.
Mareleia was grateful for the excellent quality of the library stacks as he moved in her, building up to possessive thrusts. Picking up speed, hands getting rougher. Reminding her she might be the Queen of Wildereach, but she was his first.
Her body tightened around him, that coil of heat burning brighter. With a husky moan, Warran broke the kiss and buried his face in the side of her neck. Rasping breaths ghosted her skin and Mareleia closed her eyes, every sense, every thought, zeroing in on where their bodies joined.
“Soon,” he said, voice hoarse, “I’m going to fuck you properly. In a bed and without clothes.”
Mareleia whimpered at the promise, and his next thrust had a book falling from the shelf. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, but she just moved her hand to the empty space. Bending forward a little more, she held the shelf tighter.
Warran groaned as he slid deeper, the new position bringing them even closer. He continued, leaning over her, “First, I’ll have you on your knees, sucking my cock.”
“Fuck,” she gasped, the curse slipping out without permission.
“And then”— he punctuated the word with a thrust that sent books tumbling—“I’ll lick you until you’re begging me to stop.”
Mareleia’s eyes rolled back into her head. The pressure between her legs rose to a near-unbearable pitch. She was so close she was shaking. “Warran.”
“And when you think you couldn’t possibly come again, I’ll put you on all fours and show you just how wrong you are.”
She didn’t need anything else. With a flash of blinding light behind her eyes, Mareleia fell over the edge. And she fell hard.
Warran did nothing to stop her from crying his name to the tomes and stained glass windows. He moved faster, taking more. The books shuddered on the shelves, but not even that could bring Mareleia down from her high.
“Gods,” he groaned, “you’re so beautiful when you come.” He slammed into her a few more times, hips stuttering with his loud moan. She sighed through the end of her orgasm, the bliss drawn out by his words and by the warmth that filled her as Warran joined her on the other side.
For a moment, they hovered in a perfect calm. He stayed inside her, gently wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her like nothing else mattered. Like there wasn’t a kingdom of responsibilities waiting on them.
When Warran finally withdrew, more books falling to the floor with the gentle movement, Mareleia couldn’t help but giggle. “The library makes us so dirty.”
She turned to face him and caught a bright smile. For a second, she thought about dragging him back, asking him to lift her against the books and press into her again. Even if just to hold each other there and bask in their closeness. But Warran had already tucked himself back into his pants, pulled a cloth from his pocket to clean her up. They really didn’t have time.
“We definitely haven’t been treating the rare books with the respect they deserve.” He eyed the collateral damage of their joining.
Mareleia grinned. She said, kneeling to collect the books, “We really need to start doing this in our bed again.”
“But I’m always so tired in the evenings,” he countered, replacing a book so thick Mareleia wondered if she’d even be able to lift it. On his finger, a wedding band flashed gold. “The afternoons work better for my schedule.”
Mareleia snorted, though she knew how true his words were. Between managing their growing military and keeping an eye on the constant threat at the Eastern border, Warran was worn out by the end of each day. Asleep before she even snuffed out all the candles. Not to mention all the evenings she spent drowning in courtly paperwork while he watched her with mournful but ultimately ignored eyes.
Until they’d started sneaking off to the library, they were lucky to have sex once a week with how busy and tired they were.
Still.
“Warran …”
“I know, I know.” He didn’t even dignify her unsaid sentence with a believing expression. “This was the last time,” he mimicked rather unflatteringly.
She smacked his arm. “It was. We can’t keep doing this. I’ve been slacking on my duties for a month because of you. We need to contain our bedroom activities to our bedroom.” Or at least bedroom hours. She really had been enjoying the library.
Warran laughed like there hadn’t been an ounce of seriousness in her words. “Same time tomorrow, then?”
“You—no!” Mareleia smacked him again.
He took the hit like it had come from a fly. Grinned like a fiend, too.
“You are a king,” she lectured sharply. “This is not how you should be behaving in a library.”
Her husband’s amused smile just widened. “I didn’t get the impression you were bored when I was inside—”
A rattling door knob echoed across the space, and Mareleia shoved a hand over Warran’s mouth just in time. She pushed him back against the shelf, out of sight—someone could have heard him. Yet when she removed her hand, his smile was even bigger.
“Put these books away,” she said, mustering up some authority and stepping away from him. If that clock on the wall was correct, she was so late for her next meeting.
Warran’s laugh landed between her shoulder blades. “Looking forward to tomorrow,” he called after her.
Cheeks flaming, Mareleia just ran away.
***
Lord Gildan was so proud of his queen.
Not only had she settled into the role with grace and dignity over the last three years, but now she was going above and beyond to educate herself, to improve beyond even his wildest expectations.
He had been happy to move everyone’s schedules around to accommodate Mareleia’s tutoring. Especially after noticing the joy and light she radiated when attending her late afternoon meetings. The education was rejuvenating her, giving her life that he worried could be too easily drained from a young monarch.
So when he found himself with a free minute one afternoon, when he happened to pass by the library at quarter to one, he could think of nothing more heartwarming than to see the tutoring session in action.
He didn’t know which scholar Mareleia was working with, but he was looking forward to thanking them for their bountiful contribution to the Crown. A happy and restored monarch was excellent for a thriving kingdom.
Lord Gildan shifted the documents he was holding into one arm and reached out his free hand for the library door. It really had been too long since he’d visited the beautiful amenity—
“Lord Gildan!”
He dropped his hand from the doorknob and turned down the hall to locate the source of his shouted name.
A pair of servants were running toward him, waving their hands.
“What is it?” he said, a chord of worry ringing in his voice.
The two exchanged a glance, looked at the library door.
“There’s an emergency,” one declared.
Lord Gildan’s heart started to pound. “What kind of emergency? Where?”
“Uh—”
“In the kitchens,” the other blurted. “They’re asking for you. It sounded urgent.”
It was strange that they’d ask for him. But he would not deny his people his help, his service. “Of course,” he said severely. “I will go there at once.”
One nodded. “Good. Yes. Do that.”
He turned his back on the doors and rushed away, all thoughts of the library and his queen’s tutoring abandoned.
Lord Gildan didn’t notice the relieved and mischievous expressions of the servants. He didn’t linger long enough to see a very flustered queen sneak out the doors two minutes later, thinking herself far more stealthy than she was. Nor did he see the smug expression on his king’s face when he, too, left through those very same doors.
No, for the next six weeks, Lord Gildan continued to be the only person in the castle who didn’t know what happened in the library at noon.
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