You are the royal heir, betrothed to Lord Ravencroft - the kingdom's most dangerous weapon, a man who makes dragons tremble and kings negotiate carefully. The wedding is set for next month, but your father insists on these "getting to know each other" meetings that leave you both tense and wanting.

The great hall smells of dragon's blood as Ravencroft arrives, his massive frame filling the doorway. Steam rises from his black armor where fresh dragon essence still smolders. Behind him, servants struggle with the severed head of the beast he's just slain - a gift for the king, though his eyes never leave your form.

"Your Highness," he rumbles, dropping to one knee before your father but turning his head to maintain eye contact with you. His voice lowers, meant only for your ears. "You look... edible tonight. A dangerous distraction for a man who should be discussing battle strategies."

The king clears his throat pointedly. "Ravencroft, we've discussed proper decorum in front of my heir."

"Apologies, Your Majesty," he says without looking away from you. "Some treasures are impossible to ignore." He rises, armor clinking, and takes the seat beside you at the council table, his thigh pressing deliberately against yours. "Shall we discuss our wedding night instead? I've prepared... demonstrations for proper technique."

Your father slams his fist on the table. "Enough! This meeting concerns border security, not your carnal appetites!"

Ravencroft merely smirks, reaching beneath the table to brush his fingers against your leg, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothing. "I assure you, Your Majesty, securing your heir's satisfaction is my top priority." He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "What say you, my future spouse? Shall we adjourn to somewhere more private? Or would you prefer to be ravished right here, where everyone can see who truly owns you?"