anvils azure

i’m thinking along the lines of you were of age, yes. typically older than most girls tend to get married (early to mid twenties) which made you a perfect contender for an old, widowed, man with six children. because what young woman doesn’t want that life for herself?

maekar would want to be careful with you for sure. maintain that distance, keep you at an arms length in public. wife in nothing more than title.

you weren’t used to the stormlands and its unpredictable weather, this was truly the first thunderstorm you had ever experienced and it was unnerving. so you did what you could only think to do, you made your way to your husbands bedchambers. you knew the route, though he had maintained that boundary in not letting you into his private space. but when he answered your knock, saw your tired eyes and sunken stature he caved, opening it further to allow you entrance.

the proximity was frightening him, and he was stood naked in all his glory. you had not seen him as such since your wedding night, it was enticing.

“if you must sleep in my bed you will not sleep clothed. they bring dirt into the bedding.” he did not strike you as the type to care for such things, but as you recall you did not truly know him. you allowed him to remove your clothing tenderly until you were stood bare before him, he guided a hand on your back. “sleep on the left. the right is my side.” you nodded at the instruction, doing only as asked. you were hoping deeply in your heart this would change something, that he might bend just close enough to breaking, admit maybe he did desire you deep deep down. maybe he would even act on it. yet he had managed to surprise you already with his welcoming, then his instruction. so now that you were expecting such a thing from him you seemingly knew it would not come.

it took a cycle of three further storms for his generosity to falter. it had become routine. you heard thunder, you crept to his chambers, you got into his bed. you didn’t touch. scarcely moved at all. maybe he’d brush your hair softly with his fingers when you flinched from the banging but that was the extent of it.

now however, as the rain begun to hammer down you sought your opportunity sooner. you moved to the corridor yet he caught you in your doorway.

“what is this little game you are playing girl?” he grunted, forcing you back inside your room and swinging the door shut behind you. “do not call me girl. i am a woman.” you protested, he scoffed “barely. which is why you should not be seeking opportunities to crawl into my bed.” you couldn’t help but scoff. you were married to him, was it such a crime to seek pleasure from him?

“you do not spend time with me otherwise.” you argued, watching as the lines gracing his face increased heavily.

“you are half my fucking age what self respecting man maintains a sexual relationship in that kind of situation.” he had released your wrist upon the realisation he was holding you. it felt foreign to him.

“you married me, it is a given.”

“what that i was given no choice? are you truly so naive to think i chose your age?” he scoffed, it was so bitter you could almost taste it. well, you did want to taste him but as he stared at you so vengeful you tried to fight that very feeling.

“but you chose me.” it was a fact he could not deny. he had chosen you. out of all contenders you were certainly most enticing to him for your mind more-so than anything. yet seeing you in your wedding gown had him imagining all kinds of obscenities he knew the gods would one day strike him down for.

his palm collided flat over your mouth, softly. it didn’t sting but that was not his intention in the first place, his intent was to silence you from speaking the facts he did not wish to be so true.

“do not.” it was as if he were pleading.

you licked his palm. as sadistic as it felt the taste on his flesh was enamouring, he removed his palm instantaneously carrying a look of disgust mixed with intrigue. his hand clasped around the base of your throat as he uttered, “you’re filthy aren’t you. just begging to be ruined.”

you nodded rapidly, “yes- please yes it’s all i want.”

you were pressed into the mattress, a pillow smothered under your hips to hold them up at an angel as he ran the head of his thick cock between your folds, nudging your clit before following the path back up to your weeping hole.

“just put it in already.” you whined, hips pressing up further forcing the pressure of his cock harder against your slick.

“ever been told that you are brat?” he grunted, slowing the pace of his travelling cock to stop entirely before your hole.

“mhm. by you.”

“because you are.” he pushed in forcefully, knocking the air from your lungs as you clenched against him. his hand came to cradle your hip with a “shh, relax for me.” when you did not relax in a hope to spur him on, his bicep found its place under your jaw, tightening against you and pulling you up so that not only were you fully seated on his cock, but your pack was pressed into his chest as your teeth grazed the solid muscle of his arm.

“m’gonna bite you.” it was just so tempting, the fat of his bicep right under your teeth, being at his entire mercy as he squeezed you in every sense of the word. “you do that and i’ll forget you need gentle.” he threatened, free hand already placing a firm smack against the fat of your arse.

“don’t need gentle.” you mumbled, heaving for breath against his weight. “just need you.”

“well then.” he concluded, his pace never faulting once as he begun to continuously pound against that spongy spot inside of you, not once ceasing as you begun to writhe in his hold, his free hand drawing firm yet fair circles on your aching clit.

the sounds leaving your conjoined bodies were obscene, the squelch as your wetnesses moulded into one, the free falling moans that fell from your parted lips, and the unwelcome groans that slipped past his own as he fought to keep his own composure as he spilt the most intimate part of him as deep as he possible could inside of the most intimate part of you.

baelor had spent a semester in dorne, the place of his mothers home, yet it was not entirely him. he enjoyed the city of kings landing, he enjoyed its university, and its people, and more specifically you. which was why as a new term headed he resumed his previous position hoping the implied distance would have been enough.

it was not.

when he saw you sat in that lecture hall, blouse buttoned just too low to be professional, but not low enough to be inappropriate, he lost all sense of composure. he couldn't help but watch your lips, the lips that had wrapped around his cock and given him such gentle pleasure and now he was supposed to stand here and pretend he cared to teach you the history of westeros? yeah that wasn't going to fly.

he coped as best he could, clearing his throat frequently and opting not to pick on any of the students and though not to rise suspicion that he was avoiding catching the gaze of just one. though you didn't care, you wanted more, you willed for it. he had given you just a taste and now you craved all of him entirely, did he truly know for what he had begun?

there were bars in kings landing that were so bustling with people faces became unfamiliar, yet the one belonging to your professor was not so unforgettable, which was what made it so easy to fuel your desire as you crossed the floor to take the seat at the bar next to him. he failed to hide his surprise at best, you only smiled lightly.

“did i scare you so badly professor, was i not good enough for you?” the gentle pout and playfulness to your face and tone did not escape him, yet he did not appreciate it regardless. “i do not know for what you are talking about?” he questioned, downing the small glass of scotch and leaving just enough cash to cover his tab and a tip for the barmaid. “oh so i was not memorable then? when i sucked-”

“lower your voice.” he hissed, his eyes lowered as he stood, grasping your wrist within his own, “if you wish to speak to me you will not do it here.”

“then where would you like to talk?” you questioned, your hand fiddling with his own which was much larger than yours, he snatched it back at the realisation of what you were attempting to do. he had been a fool not to realise you desired him so, for he would have never begun such a thing if he realised you were so truly insatiable. he thought you had had enough sense to end it at his clear admission of guilt when he departed, yet seemingly it had only spurred you further in your intent.

“just follow me.”

and you did. because why wouldn’t you?

his car was fancy as expected, some expensive estate that likely costed triple your yearly tuition, all leather interior that remained with that new car smell combined with a scent that was entirely him. “get in.” he held the door open, ever the gentlemen, his tone did not comply with such yet you paid it no mind.

he drove to seemingly nowhere, a secluded point that overlooked the glowing city, light that reached even so far as this place. you had at the least expected him to look at you, yet seemingly he would not grant you even that.

“will you not even look at me?” your eyes were entirely on him, you wanted him to do the same. give you some reciprocation. you had thought about him before all of this but never had you intended to act on such a thing, he had made the first indication and now he would not even give you the privilege of knowing he felt the same?

“what happened, should not have. i thought my absence would have taught you have such.” he explained lowly, as thought such a thing was obvious. which it likely was, but why would you care?

you frowned, a pretty look but not quite as desirable as your smile. “then why did you start it.”

“do not look at me like that.”

“i wasn’t failing your class i’m not stupid, well, not as stupid as you’d like to believe i am.” he tensed involuntarily, flexing his veined hands as he tried to remain composed under your scrutiny.

“because i was lonely, and i had a severe lapse in judgment.” he was attempting to reason, though it was futile when he in himself still desired more of you. he wanted you entirely even just for a night and it was taking everything within him not to lay you across the backseat.

a scoff escaped you, involuntarily, absentmindedly you messed with your hair to give your hands something to do as he toyed with you using words that were not even teasing, just quietly painful. “hm.”

“hm indeed. so we are in agreement then?” he asked, his eyes now finding your own.

“agreement.” you echoed, your eyes boring into his own mismatched ones. the realisation hit him that you were in fact both in agreement, but not about forgetting.

your lips smacked against one another in a force only driven by pure unadulterated hunger as you clambered into his lap. he met you with equal force, his hand grasping the handle of the seat and forcing it back as far as it would go to maximise the space within his cramped car. he did not fight you, he did not push you away or further his argument for this being wrong, because you were both as damned as each other.

“you want this, correct?” he asked, slipping your jacket from your arms.

“mhm.” you nodded, forcing your tongue back to its fight with his, yet he pulled away.

“mhm is not a yes.”

“yes i want this.”

“good girl.” his praise was electrifying as you both wallowed in the realisation that your combined euphoria was not ending tonight, just as it had not ended in that office.

your all-too-short pencil skirt was pulled up over your hips and your lace tights were torn open, “i’ll buy you more.” he muttered against your lips as you gazed at him drunkenly, not even under the influence, just devastatingly intoxicated by him.

your hands fumbled with his belt and zip before finally managing to free him, that part of him that you had wholly craved to feel again in any way he would grant you. your hands were soft against him, forcing a groan to escape him as bead of pre-cum dribbled from his tip. as you worked him he moved your lace panties to the side before slipping his fingers to your core, a whimper escaping you at the callous contact. “so perfect.” he mumbled, he wanted to draw you out until you were begging but he did not have the patience nor space tonight.

when he finally lowered you onto his cock the burn was devastating, what you had needed since that first evening alone with him. it reminded you of how utterly human you were, of how much a person he was. and that he wanted you as equally as you wanted him.

“take it easy, don’t rush.”

“i can take it.”

“i never said you couldn’t, i just said take it easy.” gods his voice did something to you, the tone of authority was striking in its own way, it washed over you like cool water on a warm day.

when you finally found the strength to rock against him he couldn’t help the mouth that fell from his lips, the way you clenched against him, pulling him impossibly further inside of you, brought out a hunger in him he did not know he still possessed, and he wanted it evermore. so he grasped your hips and moved you at his will, lifting them so that when contact resumed your clit his against his pelvis, forcing shockwaves through your core as your thighs begin to tremble at the repetitive motion. it was that physical confirmation to you that he desired this just as much as you, he craved you entirely as much as you craved him in body and soul. and it was everything.

professor baelor who can’t stop himself eyeing the low cut of your casual blouse as you sit in his lecture.

professor baelor who felt the undying need to lower your grades just so slightly, so that you would seek him out, against his own better judgement.

professor baelor who felt himself hardening against his trousers when you sat a chair closer than needed in his private study.

professor baelor who accidentally called you a good girl in reference to your previous success in his class. because why would such a good girl like you ever prioritise partying over studying? he had said, causing a furious flush to encase you entirely.

professor baelor who suggested perhaps you take some extra lessons, every wednesday evening, in his personal study. for free. a targaryen offering his intellectual services for free was a rare find, so you seized it.

professor baelor who knew you did not understand his intentions of private study, nor understand why he looked at you with such hunger the evening of the first wednesday.

professor baelor who caressed your cheek as he leant against the front of his desk as you knelt before him now more than willing, gentle eyes gazing up at him curiously.