THE REBELLIOUS LUNA

FORCED ON HIM

But because he knew more than they did about the impending danger, G decided not to face the insolent man. He turned to the crowd.

"I am not speaking to dumbass people, am I?" he barked. "There is an incoming danger and y'all need to get out of here now."

But they barely budged.

"Listen to him," Roy called out. "Please. He saved my sister's life."

It was only then that they began to shuffle into the train. G could stilln't see Roy's sister properly because of the people surrounding her, but they dissipated quickly.

And when he finally saw her face, something kicked inside of him. He recognized it as his wolf, Furos.

The lady stopped, too, when she saw his eyes. Her eyebrows squeezed as though he was a large piece of puzzle. She was about to approach him, maybe to thank him, when her brother gathered her things and pushed her towards the train, whose doors were closing fast.

But their eyes kept locked together, inseparable. Furoa jumped up and down, growling at things that G refused to accept. "Shut up," he told Furos. "She's just a random girl I helped."

Roy came panting beside him. "Thank you very much," he said. "She would have been dead without you."

G was pulled away from the reverie of his gaze as the train rolled out of the station.

"Is she your blood sister?" he asked Roy.

"Yeah, she's 21, I'm 15."

I didn't ask you, but thank you for saying that.

"Okay. Let's go. Remember you have people after your life."

He said this with a sort of boyish excitement that made Roy more relaxed in his confidence.

"Wanna go for a killer ride in the midst of your enemies?" G asked.

"Hell yes!"

And vroom! they sped away, meeting the soldiers on the road, and turning a quick corner.

This was a game G played often. The soldiers couldn't kill him. Because they feared him. They didn't know who he was. He was the wind, a lion, and a chameleon put together.

One time he was a disabled prince on a wheelchair; another time, especially under a disguise, he was a terror in the dark, thwarting every plan of the Monarch.

But he had a disease that hit him every two weeks and would last for two to three months. It had been diagnosed severally by physicians, and it was concluded to be a paranormal situation, as nothing was found.

After every two weeks, Prince George would lose the use of his legs, and he'd remain in a wheelchair for months. Vulnerable. Toxic. Short-tempered. So George would utilize the little "healthy" time he had, helping the poor and needy, until the curse struck him again.

The Monarch called him useless, hated him and sought to put him out of his way.

But the chameleon part of George never allowed the monarch to get a clear advantage over him. He was slippery and unpredictable.

However, this was about to change when a certain chubby girl came knocking on his door that night, hours after he'd dropped Roy off.

"Who are you?" George called from inside. He was seated on his wheelchair, which he now rolled towards the door.

"My name is Lora, my Prince," the person answered. She had a tiny voice.

"I don't remember calling any Lora."

"The monarch asked me to come. You weren't here in the palace when I came yesterday."

"What do you want?" George snapped. He hated to be seen in this situation, even though it was a well-known rumor.

"Please open the door," Lora said.

With a remote control, he opened the door and she went in. She was a little chubby but had a charming face.

"Hi," she cooed, grinning like a child.

"Did you say Dorack brought you here?"

She nodded. "I'll spend the night with you, in fact."

"What nonsense. As what?"

"As your bride," Lora said. "In fulfillment of your duties as royal blood."

"Where's all this coming from?" George slammed a fist down their armrest. "I never expressed that I needed to get married. And certainly not in this disrespectful manner. I believe I have the right to —"

"You have no right, George," a voice said. Dorack. He walked into the room and stood beside Lora, glaring down at George. "Did you hear what I said? You have not even the tiniest right over what happens to you. Sit down, my dear Lora. On the bed."

When Lora sat, he turned back to the prince. "Sometimes I wonder if you're not ashamed of yourself. Here you are, sitting in a wheelchair, suffering from a stupid curse which I have no idea where you got it from. And I'm trying to squeeze out a life for you, and all you give back is cruelty to everyone I send you. Well, that ends tonight. You're going to make love, and tomorrow, you'll get married."

"There's no way that's happening," George mumbled.

Dorack turned to Lora. "If he offers any resistance, call me and I'll deal with his a*s. Good night." He left the room.

Lora slowly got to her feet and began to undress. She smelt of expensive perfume that was rather seductive. Her lips were strawberry red and she knew how to lick them.

She approached George and knelt before him. She only had a red g-string and a small piece of bandana around her huge breasts.

"What are you trying to do?" George said, trying not to show the chaos boiling inside his groin.

"Well, you see," Lora said.

She played a blues instrumental from her phone to set the mood. From her purse, she slipped out two cloth ropes and waved them in his face. Then he proceeded to tie his arms to the wheelchair.

"This is going to be your best night, I promise," she whispered, and leaned in for a kiss. But she pulled away when it seemed George moved towards her. "Got you, innit?" her eyes seemed to say as she kissed his bare chest down to his firm stomach. She grabbed a piece of muscle from her lips and licked it clean. A surprised gasp escaped the Prince's mouth.

As she played with his abs, her hands slid up his inner thighs and rubbed them.

"I'm going to make the best bride ever," she called.

George was trying to think straight, but a mental wall stood in his way. The face of Roy's sister kept appearing in his eyes, but the voice of Lora, and the things she did with her hands, would always dissipate the images.

Now she brought her mouth to his groin and grabbed a huge chunk of it.

"Ash," George hissed, throwing his head back, taking in the out-of-the-world sensation as she kept on nibbling at it, making vibration sounds with her mouth over it, kneading him to restlessness.

"Want me to get it out?" she sang, tracing her fingers along the bulge.

George's grunt answered her. She took that as a cue and unzipped him. His d**k leapt before her face and she took some time to admire it.

Then, without a word, and with her eyes stuck into George's, she enclosed her red lips over them, plunging him to a new world of pleasure. Her tongue in her mouth flickered under the shaft as she bobbed her head up and down the length.

With her long fingernails, she scratched and massaged his balls. This went on, with Lora finding creative and mind-blowing ways to keep him scaling through the moment of c****x.

But just as he was about to crash, she removed her mouth and stared at him. A silver line of spittle and precum trailed her lips.

"Our wedding is tomorrow," she said. "Is that a yes?"

"What?"

She placed a soft finger on the small hole. "Would you marry me?"

"Well, hell yes, got no choice," he said in one breath.

"Deal, then."

She beamed and with an aggressive pumping of her head down his d**k, she sucked him off to a groundbreaking c****x.

A fulfilled smile appeared on Lora's face as George shot into her mouth. She had done it.