✩

you whine, heat coiling thick behind your navel. there’s a dull ache in the base of your womb too; the pain of being so close but not quite there as you sit on his cock. one of your hands plays with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, your arm curling over his shoulder, while the other drags up and down his chest, feeling along the soft padding of his doublet.

you lift your head and press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. you whimper there too, dragging your nose back down his neck, following the shift of his pulse. you hear the quill pause against parchment, and your heart leaps, clattering against your ribs, when the hand on your hip pushes you down even further.

you take more of his cock, pussy stretching full to swallow around the thick of him. it flutters, hot and wet, all silken as he tries to even his breathing. you moan quietly, hips twitching, trying to gain some kind of friction aside from the stagnant press of your puffy clit against the thicket of hair at the base of his cock.

“d’you need something?” your husband asks, tipping his head to speak closer to your ear. he asks, deep and rolling, as if he doesn’t know what you want.

you whine in response, attempting to pick yourself off of his lap, even by just a fraction, to push yourself down again. but he holds you firm, and you let out another airy whine into the dewy skin of his neck, a solid pressure unmoving in the base of your spine.

“uh-uh, none of that,” baelor chides, swatting lightly at the top of your arse. you hear him start writing again, clued by the gentle glass tink of steel into the nearby inkwell. reaching deep inside you, his cock gives another twitch as he speaks, “i’m almost done, sweet girl. be good for me.”

you huff into his neck. “baelor.”

“be good,” he repeats firmly, and you ignore the heat building near-painfully in the pit of your stomach.

it’s a tension you know, but you can’t quite break. it settles, like the ash that cakes thick across the glowing hearth. your cunt clenches around him again, spurred on by the shallow ache in your clit and the hammering of your heart against your sternum. you can feel yourself, with heat pooling in your veins, dripping around him: pussy drooling out onto his lap, wetting the hair, the soft skin of his thighs.

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you, perfectly wanton and needy and it hits your husband right in the heart. the hand on your hip tightens and his cock jerks, and he leans his head to the side to plant a delicate kiss to your warm forehead.

“i know, i know, i can feel her too,” baelor mutters against your forehead as you pant into the side of his throat. a muffled baelor falls from your tongue, and a hum rumbles from his chest. “you’re doing so well, sweetheart. you’re doing so good for me, just hold on.”

you hush out a moan, barely a whisper in response. there’s a light tremble in your thighs where you part around him, the fat of your arse snug against his lap. your pussy flutters again, and you feel something tugging deep across the base of your womb. it makes you roll your hips, just slightly, to drag the pearl of your clit against him and shift the head of his cock over that perfect spot inside you.

“oh, gods,” you whisper, eyes screwing shut as you lean your head against baelor’s shoulder. you hold the back of his neck gently, an anchor for you, while you continue drawing circles across his chest with the other. you huff, smelling ink and cedar and the salt of his skin. “baelor, please.”

your husband doesn’t respond, but you hear the moment he finishes his work. you hear the slide of parchment against lacquered wood, and you hear the drop of the quill into it’s cup.

“so needy,” baelor says, leaning back in his chair and taking both of your hips in either hand. you pick yourself off of his shoulder to match his gaze. he smiles at you, close-lipped and knowing. “but you did so well.”

you nod as he urges you to lift your hips. you do, gladly, heat sticky between your legs as you rise. his cock slips from you slowly, and you moan when just the head remains, your body quivering as you hold you position. baelor looks you up and down, a gentle stroke of his eyes over you, before pulling you back to him.

he fills you instantly, and your lips part around a soundless moan as he knocks up towards the base of your cervix. your pussy takes him, wet and warm and wanting. you drool out onto his lap as he guides you, drops you up and down over and over.

baelor’s eyes lower for a moment. there’s a subtle, almost disbelieving shake of his head as they settle on where your pussy parts around him. “gods, you’re making an absolute mess of me.”

you whine, hands clutching his shoulders now as you roll your hips. the thick stretch of his cock renders you breathless as you chase your release—the release which has sat immobile in the pit of your belly for the better part of an hour.

his gaze flicks back up to you as you rut yourself onto his cock. he leans in then and presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your moan as you return it. it’s wet and needy, a desperate exchange of tongues and spit, and you feel his lips curl into a smile as you whine into it, chasing more, more, more—

“this is what you needed, isn’t it?” baelor whispers against your mouth before your head tips and you rub your cheek against his, feeling the scratch of his beard. you puff out a whine, barely a distinguishable sound, as your release packs hot in your womb and deep across the base of your spine. your husband coos at your lack of response, hands kneading your hips. “oh, my sweet girl, my perfect girl, that’s it. that’s—yeah, that’s it.”

you moan, cunt clenching tight around the thick of him. he groans, hips angling to meet you, the chair beneath the pair of you creaking with your combined movements.

“she’s needy today too, isn’t she?” baelor mutters, and your entire body burns from the inside out as you listen to the constant wet schlick-schlick-schlick of your pussy as you take his cock. you moan, and he shushes you gently, hands heavy on your hips. “it’s alright—s’alright, sweetheart, i’ve got you.”

the pressure in your womb and at the base of your spine finally bursts apart, and you come around your husband’s cock with a shaking moan of his name into the candlelit quiet of his solar. your cunt wraps tight around him, and he responds to the fluttering and your moaning with a deep, grumbling sound of his own, his cock jerking and his balls twitching tight as he chases his own release.

you writhe in his lap as you come, heat swimming through you. whining, you grind yourself through it as his hips meet, and your legs are still shaking, your heart is still racing, when he moans your name and spills deep inside you. you choke on a gasp at the thick warmth that fills you as his cock twitches deep where he sits up against the plug of your womb.

baelor breathes you in, muttering your name as he spills, and spills, then finally, as you pull your head across to kiss him, he stills. he kisses you back, gentler this time. your teeth skim his lip, and he pulls back with a small smile and a gleam in his mismatched eyes.

“you feeling better?” he asks you, breathing deeply, a hand lifting from your hip to cup the side of your face.