Lucen collapsed back onto the grass, panting hard, sweat soaking his hair and chest. Magic was tough, but physical training felt like hell—every muscle burned, every breath ragged. He stared up at the sky, thinking for the thousandth time how much easier things had been when he had his mother's body to fall into every night, restoring his stamina with a single fuck.
He grimaced, wiped his brow, and was about to force himself up when he sensed movement on the edge of the private ground.
He looked over—
Arwen stood there, dressed in her training outfit. Tight breeches, fitted top, golden hair tied back, skin glowing in the sunlight. She watched him with a soft, tired smile that somehow made his heart lurch.
He sat up fast, scrambling to his feet. Every ache in his body faded under a sudden wave of nerves.
He didn't hesitate. As soon as she drew close, he bowed his head a little, voice rough and raw.
"Mother… I'm sorry. Really..." He swallowed, looking her in the eyes, then down again. "I'm not just your partner, I'm your son. I shouldn't have made you feel that way."
Arwen's face was gentle, her eyes a little red at the edges, but clear. She took a slow breath and stepped closer, watching him.
She said nothing for a long moment, just let the silence stretch between them.
Then, finally, she smiled—really smiled—and touched his cheek with her palm.
Arwen's fingers lingered on his cheek, gentle and warm. She shook her head softly, a hint of sadness mixed with her affection.
"It wasn't just your fault, Lucen. I ran away from the problem too, instead of facing it with you. That's not what a mother should do… not when her son makes a mistake."
She let out a small sigh. "We should've talked it out, not just left each other hurting."
Lucen felt a rush of guilt and relief, and for a moment, all the pressure in his chest loosened.
He nodded, words catching in his throat, then leaned in slowly. He paused just a breath away—waiting, asking, showing he'd go slower this time.
She didn't turn away.
Instead, Arwen closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft at first—gentle, almost shy—but grew deeper, more urgent as they both melted into it.
Her arms wound around his neck, holding him tight, her body pressing into his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, fingers squeezing gently, heart pounding. They kissed and kissed, breathing each other in, letting the world fall away.
When they finally broke apart, both a little breathless, Lucen whispered first.
"I missed you."
Arwen smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I missed you, too, my darling."
They stood there in the middle of the training yard, wrapped around each other—more sure, more careful, more together than before.
They held each other quietly for a long moment, the soft breeze and distant chirp of birds the only sounds in the world. Arwen stroked Lucen's hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, then his cheek.
Lucen squeezed her back, just holding her, the tension finally gone. For once, there was no hunger—just the warmth of being close, of being forgiven.
Arwen pulled back, her fingers brushing his cheek as she smiled at him with all the tenderness in the world. "You really have changed, Lucen…but you're still my boy."
He grinned, cheeks a little pink. "Only because you kept pushing me. And feeding me. And—well, a lot more."
She laughed softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.
He leaned in, kissing her softly again—just lips. "I want to keep making you proud. I don't want to lose you, Mother. Not over something stupid."
"You won't lose me," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Not for anything."
She glanced around the sunlit training yard, then back at his sweat-soaked chest, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of her lips.
"So… do you want to keep training?" she asked, voice innocent but her eyes glinting. "Or maybe…" she trailed off, brushing her hand along his bare shoulder, "we should take a bath together. You're filthy, and I think we both could use a little… washing up."
She waited, the invitation hanging between them—gentle, playful, hopeful.
Her hand found his, fingers lacing together as she met his eyes.
Lucen grinned, giving her a sly look as his hand slipped down to her ass, fingers squeezing the firm curve through her training pants. He gave it a soft smack, just enough to hear the faint slap and feel the heat in his palm.
"Bath can wait," he murmured, leaning in close, lips brushing her ear. "I've been pent up… how about here?"
Arwen stiffened, cheeks flushing, her eyes darting to the edges of the training ground. "Lucen, this isn't really… it's not as private as you think," she whispered, nerves creeping into her voice. "What if someone sees us?"
He didn't stop. His hand kept roaming, teasing her hips, sliding up under her shirt to stroke the small of her back. "It'll be quick," he promised, voice low and playful, "unless you want it slow…"
She bit her lip, torn between her sense of propriety and the rush of excitement sparking in her veins. "You really are impossible," she whispered, not quite pulling away.
He kissed her neck, his breath hot on her skin, letting his fingers trace over the waistband of her pants. "Come on, Mother. No one ever comes here at this hour. Just you and me…"
Arwen's heartbeat drummed in her ears, but with Lucen's hands and mouth on her, her hesitation began to crumble.
She looked up at him, cheeks pink, eyes shining with nervous excitement. "If we get caught, you're the one explaining it," she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips even as she tried to keep her voice steady.
He grinned, squeezing her ass one more time. "Deal."
Lucen's hands moved with purpose—urgent, hungry. He didn't wait for more permission. With a wicked grin, he slipped both hands to Arwen's waist and, in one smooth motion, tore her training top open down the back. The fabric ripped with a sharp, breathless sound, exposing her smooth skin to the sun and breeze.
Arwen gasped, instinctively trying to catch the torn ends, but his hands were already moving—trailing down to grip her hips, pulling her back against his chest. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, hot breath dancing along her spine, mouth working slow, hungry kisses from her shoulder up to her ear.
"Lucen—" she whispered, voice trembling, half scolding, half pleading.
He didn't answer with words. Instead, his right hand slipped down between her thighs, tugging at the waistband of her pants, baring her just enough. His fingers slid between her legs, parting her folds, slipping into the heat and wetness that waited for him there.
She shivered, clinging to his arms, breath stuttering. Her protest melted into a gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling it in slow, careful strokes, then dipping lower to push inside. He fucked her with his hand—slow, deep, savoring every squeeze of her cunt around his fingers.
His lips never left her skin. He kissed a path up the curve of her neck, nipped at her ear, whispered filth and sweetness all at once.
"You're so wet for me… out here where anyone could see you. You like this, don't you?"
Arwen's only answer was a moan, her hips rolling into his hand, her body betraying how much she needed it, how much she wanted him even when her mind screamed caution.
Lucen pressed her harder against him, using his body to shield her from the open space. His other hand slipped up under what was left of her shirt, cupping her bare breast, thumbing her nipple until it was stiff and sensitive, drawing shuddering breaths from her lips.
She was lost to his touch—panting, keening softly, biting her lip to keep quiet as his fingers worked her open, thumb pressing just right, his mouth never leaving her skin.
"Lucen… please—" she begged, unable to help herself.
He spun her to face him, claiming her mouth in a deep, messy kiss—tongues tangling, lips desperate and hot. His hand never left her pussy, still working her with slow, knowing strokes, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
Their bodies pressed together, hungry and exposed, the thrill of being so vulnerable only making every touch sharper, every kiss deeper, every breath more urgent.
And he didn't stop.
Lucen saw the shock flicker in Arwen's eyes as he spun her around, kissed her hard, then bent her over against the nearest stone bench—her torn training top hanging from her shoulders, pants shoved down just enough to expose her dripping cunt to the warm air.
He leaned over her back, one hand on her hip, the other still working her pussy, slick and hot, his fingers gliding deep.
His mouth was right by her ear, voice rough and low.
"Look at you, Mother," he whispered, thrusting two fingers deep inside her, thumb pressing her clit until she twitched. "Bent over like a bitch in heat, out in the open. If the servants looked out that window right now, they'd see you soaked and begging for your son's cock."
Arwen gasped, scandalized, a shiver running up her spine. "Lucen—don't—someone might—!"
He pressed his fingers deeper, grinding his palm against her, not letting her finish the thought.
"You want them to see you, don't you?" he breathed. "Let them watch you fall apart on my fingers. Let them know who you belong to."
She shook her head, hair wild, but her pussy clenched even tighter around his fingers, breath coming faster, hips pushing back for more.
He bent lower, tongue tracing her ear, words filthier and sweeter with every thrust.
"You want me to fill you up right here, in the open? You want to walk back to your room dripping my cum down your legs, knowing anyone could smell what we've done?"
Arwen moaned, her resistance melting as the heat overwhelmed her shame.
"Say it," Lucen growled, his hand slapping her ass, leaving another mark. "Tell me who you belong to."
She sobbed, voice breaking, but she obeyed.
"You—Lucen—I belong to you. I—ah!—I'm yours—"
He growled with approval, pulling his fingers free and lining his cock up with her entrance, the thick head pressing at her soaked, twitching pussy.
"Good girl. Now beg for it. Tell me how much you need me."
Her head dropped, her voice barely a whisper, wild with arousal and shame.
"Please, Lucen. I need you. Please fuck me, right here. I don't care who sees, just—just fill me—"
He slammed into her in one smooth thrust, her body arching, mouth open in a silent scream as he buried himself deep.
Slap—slap—slap—
His hips pounded her, hard and fast, the dirty words and public risk only making her wetter, tighter, wilder under him.
Her mind broke on the edge between shock and ecstasy, every thrust pushing her further—every filthy word.
Lucen hammered into her, every thrust deep and hard, the wet slap of skin echoing across the training ground. Arwen's nails clawed at the stone, her moans desperate, barely contained.
He leaned over her, breath hot at her ear, voice low and dirty.
"Imagine if the head maid came around the corner right now… The one who's always talking about how dignified you are, how everyone in the house looks up to you admires you. Imagine her seeing you bent over for your own son, dripping, taking every inch…"
He punctuated it with a sharp smack to her ass, making her gasp, her pussy clamping down hard around his cock.
"Or maybe it's Lumi," he went on, his words rougher as he fucked her harder, "so shy and obedient—she'd watch the Marquess herself getting ruined like a common whore… Think she'd ever be able to look you in the eye again?"
Arwen sobbed, her whole body shuddering, the shame and thrill burning her up. "Lucen—ah—ah, please—"
Her walls squeezed him tight, her slick gushing around his cock with every slap of his hips, her body giving him everything.
He groaned, feeling her lose control, the grip of her cunt pulling him deeper. "You love it, don't you?"
Her answer was a high, helpless moan, her body shaking, climax hitting her hard as he drove her through it, never stopping, never slowing.
He grinned, still pounding her, the risk only making it better.