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"Stop fighting, or I'll tan your hides myself. You are the crown princes of a nation, not a bunch of rowdy boys in the street. Louvel, release your brother. Greil; I swear to the gods, if you don't stop harassing your siblings, I'll put you on stables duty for the next month. Ronnet, you know better." King Arthur held the bridge of his muzzle in exasperation while barking down at his misbehaving spawn.

Younger wolves fell into line in front of Arthur's ire, their youthful faces showing a degree of shame for their rough-housing behavior. Of course, Arthur hadn't expected anything different from pups that had only recently passed into manhood. Ceremonial garb couldn't hide inexperience, though he was proud to say his sons inherited their mother's regal appearance when they weren't bickering and ruining it with their childish attitudes.

Ronnet, his eldest son, already showed promise as a leader at twenty summers old. Regal and poised, with immaculately groomed silky reddish-brown fur and kind grey eyes, he resembled his mother the most among his siblings. Respected by his peers, friendly with the staff around the castle, and willing to work hard for others, he was a shining example of what royalty should be. Or rather, he was when his brothers didn't draw him into their antics, reverting him to a rambunctious cub.

Greil, his middle child, developed a bit of a joker's personality to stand out during his nineteen years, telling many a bawdy joke with blue eyes twinkling and a black-furred tail wagging. With his sturdy build and relative ease at physically demanding tasks, he could easily bully his siblings, though he never took it too far. Arthur had seen him lay out many mouthy nobles' sons in defense of his quieter brothers, but he never learned when to shut his mouth, and tact wasn't his strong suit.

Louvel, the youngest at barely eighteen, had a bit of an inferiority complex. Lanky and bookish with fluffy white fur and intelligent green eyes, he was the sort of boy that would rather spend his days with his nose buried in a book than training. Arthur never begrudged his pursuits, and a budding talent in magic blossomed when he was allowed to pursue his studies at his own pace. Of course, more often than not, his newly learned spells aimed at Greil, as illustrated by the vines that threatened to pick the boisterous man up by his foot paw before Arthur intervened.

"S-Sorry, dad- Your majesty." The trio of wolves bowed their heads, their tails dipping between their legs while they spoke in unison. How deceptively obedient they were when called out. They were lovable little shits, but he couldn't fault them for their behavior. He was a terror as a teenager.

"I'd suggest you don't act like this while we're within Bitol's borders. I've been hard at work for months now, trying to make a good impression, and if you three ruin this dinner, I will personally put you over my knee and put the fear of the gods into you." Arthur stood from his throne, flanked by his trusted guard, his grey tail held high and his crown impeccably balanced between his pointed ears.

"Feels like I'm melting. Do I have to wear this every day?" Greil grumbled and pulled at his ceremonial furred robe, sweat shining on his black fur and dripping from his face. "By the time we reach Bitol's palace, I'll be the same size as Lou!"

"You wish, fatass. Your fur's too short, and you're too fond of pie." Louvel stuck his tongue out, looking up from his tome. Still, he took pity on his sweating sibling, tracing a glowing symbol in the air and conjuring a small block of ice to float in front of Greil's face.

Greil took the crystalline gift, rubbing his cheek against it appreciatively and basking in its chill. "I don't care what anyone says. You're the best bookworm in all of Loupholm. Let me buy you a drink when we get home. I'll introduce you to a barmaid."

Ronnet's face held a dreamy smile, and he stared out of the carriage's window with interest. "It's beautiful here, isn't it, father? I've never seen forests so green and buzzing with life. And the flowers are so exotic. It's like we've traveled to a different world. Do you think they'd let us bring home a few plants for the castle gardens?"

"Perhaps, but let's focus on making a good impression first. An alliance would mean access to goods we can't even imagine." Arthur dug his claws into his knees and stilled his breathing, reviewing his speech in his head. He'd meticulously planned everything he wanted to say to Bitol's monarch.

Shortly after Arthur started to doze off in the oppressive heat, the carriage clattered to a stop, and his bodyguard, Branwick, held the door open for him, bowing reverently. "Your majesty. We've arrived. Please watch your step."

Arthur blinked away the blur of sleep as he stepped into the heavy, moist heat of tropical air. Far from the brisk chill of Loupholm, the oppressive heat gave Arthur second thoughts about his attire. Was it too late to have thinner garments sent? They wouldn't arrive for at least a day.

Servants clad in nothing but loincloths decorated with glittering jewels and shimmering gold met Arthur, bowing pleasantly and greeting him in unison. An older lizardman with jeweled armbands and dark blue scales stepped forward and addressed the king with a deferentially lowered gaze.

"Good evening, sir. Please follow me. We will prepare you for your audience with the king. I'm sure you've noticed that your attire is-" His eyes took on a slight amusement as he looked Arthur and his sons up and down. "-rather inappropriate for our climate. We would never forgive ourselves if the heat adversely affected your health."

Relieved but attempting to save face, Arthur followed behind the manservant. "Thank you. If it is your king's wish that we change, we will not protest." At least this way, he wouldn't have to deal with poor Greil suffering from heat sickness. He could hear panting behind him and the boy's petulant begging for more ice magic, followed by an exasperated chant from his youngest.

Servants led Arthur through garishly decorated halls until they reached a small room, where the manservant bowed once again and left the royal wolves to his assistants. "Please, relax. My boys will take care of you, and I will return once I inform his majesty and the crown princes of your arrival. There will be a banquet in your honor."

With that, the manservant was gone, and Arthur was surrounded by gentle, coaxing hands stripping him of his ceremonial robes. Given no time to protest, soft cloth rubbed over his bared fur, and he stood there speechless as a trio of servants cleaned the sweat from every exposed inch of his body while smiling reassuringly. Soft scales massaged his muscles with a degree of appreciation, and he could swear that he could see nostrils flaring to take in his scent.

Practiced hands tugged at his underclothes, baring his sheath for eager eyes. "Would you like a full cleaning, sir? We're here to please." Expectant faces stared up at him from below his low-hanging, glistening balls, showing no care for drips of sweat that landed on smooth muzzles.

"F-Full cleaning? What, may I ask, is that?" Arthur's voice shook, and he resisted the urge to cover himself, looking away from the servants' hungry gazes. There must be some cultural difference here, and he was desperate to avoid offending his hosts. Perhaps it was innocent? Some whore's bath with scented oils or something?

Smirking, the light green snake in front of Arthur leaned forward and dragged his tongue from the drooping skin of Arthur's sack up to the opening of his sheath, then pressed a sweet kiss to it, his nostrils flaring to take a deep drag of the scent he found. Sinfully soft and promising pleasures Arthur hadn't felt in a long time; that tongue circled the puffy skin, threatening to slip inside.

"Oh. No. No, thank you." Arthur bit his lip. Perhaps if he were younger, he would have entertained the servant boys, but he had to set an example for his sons, and besides, the idea of being serviced while in the same room as his boys left a bad taste in his mouth. It was hard for him to perform when his late wife was pregnant, let alone in this situation.

"That's a shame, your majesty. Perhaps next time." With a giggle, the servant boy licked his lips, taking up a piece of soft leather. With reverent fingers and practiced ease, he took hold of the embarrassed king's sagging balls, wrapping them in a loincloth, threading the leather through his legs, then around his tail to cradle his package in its luxurious embrace. The garment left nothing to the imagination and outlined every bit of his manhood, but he had to admit it was comfortable. Perhaps he'd ask if he could keep it to wear under his robes.

Glittering thin golden chains were next, securing the loincloth and holding gleaming jewels that caught the light. Several more adornments followed, and by the time the servants finished with him, Arthur jingled with each step, his grey fur accentuated with fine jewelry.

"Excellent, your majesty! You look extraordinarily regal, and your sons look oh so handsome." The snake boy gushed as he pondered Arthur's scantily clad body. "There's one thing missing, though. Ah! I know!" He turned, grabbed a blood-red gem-studded golden circlet, and knelt, clasping it onto Arthur's tail and sneaking a squeeze of the king's rump. "Perfect. Now you're ready to meet our king~!"

"Is this all his majesty means for me to wear?" Arthur shuffled uncomfortably in place, jewelry clinking pleasantly, and every bit of him displayed like a professional whore, from fat-padded pecs once rippling with power to his rounded rear, once tight and toned and now doughy from years of sitting on a throne. He looked around, attempting to avoid the leering servant boys admiring his state of undress.

The princes fared no better than himself, though they weren't as shy as their father, surrounded by servants that stripped them to their bare fur with practiced ease.

Louvel had several servants fawning over him, brushing his fur and pressing their faces against its fluffiness. Rather than reacting to their doting embraces, he held his tome with shaking hands, trying his best to ignore groping scaled hands. Despite his flustered expression, Arthur had to admit that the dark purple, almost black gems the servants chose for him looked quite dashing against his white fur, contrasting nicely.

Ronnet, curious and poised, engaged his servants in an animated conversation about the palace's landscaping as they fitted him with glittering sky blue gems and covered his wagging tail in pretty blue silk rings. As always, he treated his servants like old friends, and the boys were more than happy to oblige his questions. Oh, to be that young with that sort of charisma. Arthur wondered if Ronnet noticed the starry-eyed expressions Ronnet's peers' faces always held in his presence, despite his questionable conversation topic.

Greil was surprisingly quiet, and Arthur felt horror dawn on his face as his gaze lit over the stocky boy mid-embrace with one of the servant boys, his tongue shoved down the lithe lizardman's throat and a hand on a scaly sky-blue rump. Once their embrace broke, his playful voice rang out. "You are an angel. I thought I was going to die in those robes." Squeezing the servant boy's rump once more, he was about to say something else when Arthur's glare finally got through to him, and he removed his grip as though caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Debaucherous little shit.

In due time, the manservant returned. Pleasant and professional, his demeanor was a nice break from the servant boys' lustful charms, and Arthur stepped towards him as though to escape his groping retinue. "Thank you for waiting so patiently. His majesty will see you now."

"Hey, uh, dad. Can I vacation here? Often? Possibly forever?" Greil's cheeky voice rang out from Arthur's side, prompting a sigh from the long-suffering king. Was tact too much to ask? Or was Greil going to mount one of the servants in the middle of dinner?

Filigreed doors swung open, aided by muscled guards, and revealed a dimly lit, pleasant dining hall. Like the rest of the castle, it glittered in visual excess, but the table in the middle was simple wood with no trappings. Seated at its head, glistening in the soft light and imposing in his regality, a golden dragon sat with his head propped on one fist.

Appraising crimson eyes like rubies stared Arthur down, their intensity raising his fur. The heavy, muscled dragon stood, stepping forward to stand a head taller than Arthur and giving the lupine king an eyeful of pierced nipples and rippling pecs glistening with a fresh coat of oil. He stood silently for a moment, then a toothy grin split his face, and warmth drained into his expression. "C'mere, handsome." Without a qualm, he grabbed Arthur in a crushing embrace and sandwiched his face between those mountainous pecs.

Gasping for breath and squirming in the dragon's embrace, Arthur eventually gave in to the other monarch's friendly affections. Scented oils tickled Arthur's nose from surprisingly soft scales, adding to the dragon's masculine, mellow musk with floral scents. Bulging biceps lifted Arthur from the ground, and a pleasant growl vibrated through his body.

"Welcome to Bitol! I trust my boys have shown you a warm welcome?" A massive paw clapped Arthur on the back, and his arm slid around furred shoulders in an easygoing lean once his crushing embrace ended. He winked and licked his lips lasciviously. It seemed the servants' advances were purposeful after all.

"Yes, they were pleasant. Thank you for loaning us these comfortable clothes." Arthur tried his best to remain poised despite the informal tone of the dragon by his side, though the wet feeling of snake tongue on his manhood echoed through his brain. Maybe he should have indulged himself? Hopefully, he hadn't insulted the king by declining.

"Come, sit. The banquet will begin shortly. I'm sure you'll love it! My chefs never disappoint." The golden dragon led Arthur over to the head of the table and pulled up a chair next to his own, patting it with a friendly gleam in his eyes.

As Arthur took his seat, a smooth, scaly arm rested on his shoulders, and a wooden mug pressed into his hands. A sweet, cloying scent drifted from the cup, drawing him in for a sip, and he widened his eyes at the drink's flavor. It was as if wine combined with sweet juice to form a pleasant, multilayered fruity drink that burned his tongue yet soothed it with sugary sweetness, leaving it numbed and tingling. He couldn't resist the flavorful concoction, draining the mug with eager gulps.

"There you go. Tastes great. Prickly Prat juice mixed with spiced wine." With an approving grope of Arthur's pec and lingering fingers cupping the fuzzy muscle, the dragon drained his mug, then motioned for more, which the smiling manservant brought without complaint, filling their cups to the top with more of the beverage.

Hazy with drink, Arthur's gaze wandered the room between greedy gulps. Various scaled bodies filed into the room, bringing plates piled with delicacies the drunken wolf could barely make out through the blur, then taking seats around the table. Still, his nose was unimpaired, and he took deep breaths, his stomach growling as meaty, spiced scents tickled his fancy. Unidentified meat graced his plate, and he grabbed it in both hands, chewing it with an appreciative noise.

Manners went out the window in favor of trying every dish within reach with greedy paws, and by the time Arthur felt a comfortable fullness in his stomach, his face dripped with grease. Realizing his mistake, he sat back with ears lowered, worrying that he had offended his host.

Fortunately, Bitol's king was amused at his lapse of judgment, and he cupped his free hand, calling out across the table. "Lavrick, Fenst, he loves your cooking! Good job, boys!"

A debaucherous cheer met the dragon king's words, and twin cups rose in a sloppy toast. Two lizardmen with identical patterning and chubby physiques grinned back at the wolf from midway down the table's length, then returned to their plates with gusto as Arthur's vision blurred, obscuring them from sight.

Insistent fingers massaged the wolf's chest, lulling his drunken mind into a sensual stupor as his vision darkened, his eyes feeling heavy. Within moments, he slipped off to sleep against scaled muscles, his anxious thoughts fading in a fog of pleasure and drink.

"You don't hold your drink very well, do you puppy?"

An amused voice brought Arthur to his senses, and he tried to roll over, only to be stopped by the soft embrace of silk ropes binding him in place. A gentle, warm breeze rolled across his body, breaking through the dull pounding in his head and making him aware of his nudity. Sheets caressed his fur, as soft and supple as the ropes binding his hands.

"Don't struggle, pup. I won't hurt you. I wish to become better acquainted with my fellow monarch. As a show of good faith, I've invited your bodyguard into my bed-chamber as a witness." Before Arthur could panic, his grey and white spotted lifelong companion joined the golden dragon in front of his prone body, nude except for his sword, sheath, and belt. "I've let him keep his weapon. If ever I harm you, he can step in."

"W-What do you want from me?" Arthur wanted to struggle and call for Branwick to save him, but the thought of ruining their trade agreement silenced him. The dragon's methods were unorthodox, but he couldn't recall a moment since their arrival that he ever harmed Arthur or his sons or forced them into anything. Maybe it would be best to hear him out?

"Dear pup, I wish to ravish you for at least a night. I have a soft spot for older men, particularly former warriors with extra padding like yourself." He leaned over Arthur's vulnerable body, covering him with the soft warmth of silky smooth scales. "I knew I had to have you from the moment you stepped from your carriage." Breathy words teased against Arthur's lips, then the dragon's lips captured Arthur's, dripping with sincerity and passion.

At first, Arthur stiffened, but a coaxing tongue and soft lips drained any hint of resistance from the middle-aged wolf. Like clay in the dragon's hands, he accepted tender affection, feeling his pointed cock slip from its fuzzy home to press against oiled scales with each exploring lick that danced over his tongue.

It had been an exceedingly long time since the wolf received this sort of attention, and he welcomed it, despite his better judgment. What was one night spent exploring passionate carnal delights in return for opportunities for his people? He would enjoy himself, then return home triumphant. When their lips parted, saliva still connecting their tongues, he nodded. "Y-Yes. You may have me. As long as you sign the trade agreement."

"That was never in question, my dear. Your kingdom is a valued ally, and I would be happy to help it flourish." Muscled arms released Arthur from his bondage, and soft fingers danced over his wrists, massaging away soreness. Worshipful and thorough, his paws meandered over Arthur's neglected muscles, sending a shudder through the wolf as crimson eyes seemed to stare into his soul.

"So this would be entirely my choice? Refusal wouldn't bear any consequences?" Arthur felt like he was talking himself into spending the night with the dragon, but his cock had other ideas, standing proud and throbbing between his legs as if to shout its approval. "I suppose it would be rude to refuse an offer of companionship."

"Oh, come now, puppy. That's not nearly enthusiastic enough." Teasing teeth nipped at Arthur's neck, and a growling baritone teased his ears, sending a tingle through his body. "Tell me what you want. Not what decorum demands or what's best for your kingdom. Tell me what you desire." A trailing tongue teased at his fur, and jaws closed against his neck in a gentle version of a mating bite.

"I- I want-" Arthur bit his lower lip, his body instinctively wrapping around the opulent dragon. "I want you, your majesty." He finished as roaming fingers cupped his plump rear, and a smothering shaft smeared over his own, rolling their erections against each other like dueling swords. Offering his neck to those teasing jaws, he barely managed to contain the wag of his tail and the rising pant overtaking his breath.

"Call me Ix. Tonight we are not kings but lovers." Ix relinquished his hold on Arthur's neck, trailing his lips lower until his sharp teeth wreathed a nipple in a teasing nibble. Mischievous paws roamed towards Arthur's core, spreading the wolf's legs and rolling finger pads over his inexperienced hole. "Bodyguard, perhaps you can help your king acclimate. There's a bottle of oil at your side. Perhaps you could hand it to me?" Without taking his hungry eyes from Arthur's panting face, Ix spoke to Branwick.

Surprisingly clumsy sounds brought Arthur's attention to his lifelong companion, only to see his bodyguard with a dripping ebony erection fumbling with a bottle. Eventually, he uncorked it, handing it to Ix and averting his gaze with embarrassment written across his muzzle. Strangely, Arthur stared at the dripping shaft with a hunger he'd never felt. He'd seen Bran's manhood before, but never this magnificently plump and dripping as if it were showing its approval for his compromised state.

Ix noticed Arthur's stare, and a grin cracked his features, showing white fangs. "Would you like for him to join us? I'm not above entertaining a third." Slathering his finger with oil, he slowly worked it into Arthur, showing a level of care one wouldn't expect from someone of his imposing size.

"I-It wouldn't be proper, sir. I'm not his equal. I could never-" Silenced by reaching golden fingers taking hold of his cock, Branwick's words faded into a moan, and his paws clenched as he involuntarily stepped closer, led by his shaft. Of course, with Ix's size, no one could resist if he wanted their obedience.

"Nonsense. In my castle, all men are equal. My servants are far more than tools." Ix slowly worked Arthur open as his free paw tended to Branwick's shaft, his maw lowering until his tongue teased the bodyguard's tip. "A kind and just king exists for his people." He murmured as his lips engulfed the bodyguard's shaft, burying it to the root in one motion.

Arthur's jaw dropped as he watched Ix eagerly suck Bran's cock, the ache of his first anal experience paling before the growing jealousy he felt watching his bodyguard's plump cock monopolized by golden lips. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted Branwick as desperately as Ix's affections. A new sort of greed awakened within him, and like a moth to a flame, he let his maw join Ix's, his tongue slipping out to flick over Branwick's growing knot, his nose flaring to take in the masculine scent he knew so well from years of training side by side.

Relinquishing his hold on Branwicke's cock, Ix cocked an eye ridge. "Have I overstepped? If you've already claimed this magnificent dick, I can leave you two to explore each other~." Slathering one side of Branwick's shaft with drooling licks, Ix teased the wolves as a second finger breached Arthur's hole, wiggling triumphantly in his softening depths.

"No, we could never. Majesty's far too-" Branwick's protests died as Arthur gulped him to the root. He squirmed under the wolf's inexperienced affections, and a cute whine slipped through his gritted teeth as a burst of slickness graced Arthur's tongue. Conflicting emotions raged behind his expression, and he finally spoke, his voice small and searching. "Arty, are you sure?"

'Arty?' Now, that was a nickname the royal wolf hadn't heard in years. Bran used to call him that when he was a boy, back when they'd play together in the palace gardens. Something about that endearing nickname and Branwick's uncharacteristic shyness awakened a hunger in the middle-aged wolf, and he let out a playful growl, guiding the bodyguard to sit in front of him and burying his face between muscular thighs to bob his head along Bran's shaft.

A third finger introduced itself to Arthur's hole with gentle, slick thrusts that drew crystalline sensations from the sensitive depths. An approving scaled paw caressed his upturned rump, and a steaming hot weight flopped against the base of Arthur's tail. "My, you two are cute together. Have you never explored your relationship?" Ix withdrew his fingers and slotted his dragonhood between Arthur's cheeks, rolling his hips to smear his cockhead against the wolf's entrance.

Without warning, Bran's cock fountained, swelling Arthur's cheeks with an impressive masculine eruption. Humping forward involuntarily, he mashed his knot against Arthur's lips, his balls drawing up and his fingers tangling in the sheets below him. It wasn't until the last drops drained from his desperately bouncing dick that he seemed to remember his position, relaxing backward and refusing to meet his king's eyes.

Emboldened by the essence he eagerly swallowed, Arthur reached out greedy paws and drew Branwick into his arms. Lips met, and he eased the muscular man's shaking with caressing fingers, letting his claws roam over the bodyguard's impressively muscular chest. Ix's first thrust forced them closer, pressing Arthur's doughier physique against Bran's unyielding form.

"Your majesty- Arty- I want-" Bran took a shuddering breath to clear his head, then he reached out a paw, stopping just short of Arthur's chest. Fingers clenched on air for a moment, then took hands full of bouncing pecs and leaned forward to rub his cheek against them. Growing confidence drove his efforts, and a tentative tongue slathered Arthur's nipple in adoring laps before he wreathed it with his lips and slowly suckled as if savoring Arthur's flavor.

Grunts from behind drew Arthur's attention to the dragon's slow thrusts, and the embrace of golden arms spread his legs further, pulling him back to hilt him on a throne of massive balls and muscular scaled flesh. "Your charms exceeded my expectations, pup. It seems your guard shares my love for softness and strength." Roaming hands took hold of the doughy paunch Arthur was so insecure about and massaged it with worshipful fingers while the dragon's shaft explored his insides with patient thrusts aimed at Arthur's sweet spot.

With a talented dragon working his virgin hole into a sloppy, clenching mess and Bran's tongue slathering every inch of his chest in wolf drool, Arthur could barely think, his cock bouncing and flinging silken spiderwebs of canine approval. Wanton pants mixed with needy moans, and he shoved himself back, forcing his chubby ass cheeks against the dragon's cock. Arthur could never have imagined his ass could feel this good, and the wolf kicked himself for not experimenting sooner. His youth could have been much more fun if he'd allowed servant boys to do more than suck his cock.

Wet warmth engulfed Arthur's cock before his thoughts could wander further, and a glance downward revealed Bran's desperate efforts to cram the royal shaft into his throat. Surprisingly, the guard seemed experienced, and his paws massaged Arthur's balls as he expertly took his king's cock to the hilt, his tail fanning behind him, waving in the air at breakneck speed. Arthur's full knot didn't deter the slurping efforts, and before long, Arthur felt his sensitive bulge lock behind Bran's lips, holding him in place.

Rutting hips sped by the moment, and the dragon's balls slapped against Arthur's, his gentle thrusts fading into an animalistic pounding that threatened to lift the tubby wolf from his knees. Teeth burrowed into Arthur's shoulder, and heavy breeder balls pulled up, blasting their payload into Arthur's depths to stake the draconic monarch's claim.

Assaulted from both sides by intense pleasure, Arthur wasn't far behind Ix, taking hold of Bran's ears as the bodyguard's eager throat worked his cock and drained what felt like years of pent-up seed from his exhausted body. Slow, deep breaths against his pubic hair sent a shudder through him, and the dragon's soft cock slipped from his slackened hole as he managed to pop himself free from Bran's talented maw.

Sandwiched between Bran's face, happily rubbing against his stomach, and Ix's tender nibbling kisses against his neck, Arthur let himself drift on a cloud of afterglow, sighing happily. Already, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what other dalliances he could explore with his new lovers. The night was young, and Arthur felt like a teenager again. He may as well enjoy himself.