Royal Cuck

Intro

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

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“you seem angry, ormund. is something bothering you?” ormund glanced at you, sitting by his right at the dinner table.

you had returned home the previous night after spending years away from oldtown, following your master to battle like the loyal mutt you were. ormund wanted to have you dragged away from his sight, but he resisted the urge. the whole family gathered for a lavish dinner to welcome you home, and ormund cared not to treat you, the celebrated subject of that banquet, unkindly in front of all his family and guests.

so he forced a polite smile. “it’s nothing, cousin.” he answers sweetly.

you ignore him after that and return to your meal and the conversations ahead of you. he watched you converse freely with your brother, expressing tall tales of your excitable acts in battle; killing triarchy pirates in the dozens, swinging across one ship to another and beheading five men, and battling an infamous leader of the triarchy fleet all on your own as the battle raged all around you.

your stories sounded so outlandish in his ears, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at every story that came from your lips. yet your cousins and uncles seemed thoroughly impressed.

ormund stood, and the chair screeched a little too loudly, that he gained the attention of half the room. all eyes were on him, including his father’s, who gave him a stern glare that told him to reign in his temper.

“if you’ll excuse me, cousin. i am exhausted.” he turns to you and gives his best smile. “welcome home.”

“rest easy, cousin.” you politely return.

as he exits the dining hall, the chatter resumes, and he can hear your voice carry through again, regaling your eager listeners with two years worth of tales against pirates and sea-bandits.

“cousin ormund, there you are!” ormund resisted the urge to roll his eyes upon hearing your excited voice.

he sees you enter his study, smelling strangely of fresh grapes and fruits. it helps ease his temper a little at your good grooming that day. he smiles kindly at you, looking up from whatever kept his attention prior to your arrival. you slid into the empty space beside his desk, crossing your legs.

“what are you doing?” you ask him.

“poring over boring letters and financial matters,” he answers simply. “things that would surely bore an adventurous soul such as yours.”

he hears you scoff at his flowery words. he tries to return to his work, but as you were just sitting there, on his desk, quietly watching him, he found it hard to ignore your overwhelming presence near him. the silence and your proximity bothered him too much. he glanced in your direction, seeing you watching him so quietly and intently, like a curious child, and not a young adolescent.

“what do you want?” his voice comes out a little too harsh.

“nothing!” you exclaimed. “just that, i haven’t seen much of my family since my father took me and my sister to king’s landing.”

“so you’ve chosen to bother me?” ormund sighs, beginning to lose his temper. “go and disturb someone else’s peace.”

“but your father asked me to go to you.” at your words, ormund paused, beginning to think why on earth his father would assign you to him. ormund’s eyes turn to you and he asks, “and why would my father ask you to see me?”

“mayhaps he believes i’ve been with the targaryen's too much that i’ve forgotten where mine own faith should lie.” you answer. “or mayhaps he wishes for us to bond as cousins, as we have not had the chance. for me, i believe the reason matters very little. can i not spend time with mine own family?”

ormund could tell you were beginning to lose your patience with him. your eyes were as sharp as blades as you slid from your seat to stand. ormund gives you an equally sharp glare, hoping to get you to leave without saying anything else. but you were stubborn it seems; stubbornness was a trait that seemed to run thick in your family line.

“mayhaps?” he scoffed. “you’ve spent too much time with those bothersome seamen.”

“they’re sailors.” you corrected.

“does it matter?” ormund hissed.

ormund hated you, and he hated himself for giving in to you. he reckons he could have fought harder against you, but found his resolve lacking halfway through. besides, he thought his mind would go numb if he stayed on his desk any longer. he stood a head taller than you, his younger cousin, but he could tell your presence loomed taller than he.

“come, then.” he calls for you. “we shall visit the sept today.”

he could hear you groan at the prospect. “had you not wished to visit the sept, perhaps you could have simply escaped elsewhere.”

“cousin, don’t be such a pain,” you whined as he made his way to the door, you following on his heels. “ever since i’ve returned, you’ve been nothing but cold and cruel to me.”

“i suppose it’s hard for you when someone treats you the slightest bit differently,” ormund sneered, leaving the room with you. “and stop begging for everyone’s attention, it’s unbecoming of a man.”

ormund had taken you to the sept like he said. the walk there was relatively calm and unremarkable, though ormund liked to berate you for your easygoing attitude, greeting just about anyone you walked by with the brightest smile on your lips, yet your cousin thought your smile to be too wide for his liking. too easy. too much. he couldn’t help the way he rolled his eyes at you every time you stopped to make small talk with someone. he had to physically drag you away and tell you off for being too easy, even to the servants.

the sept was quiet and gloomy in your eyes. to you, it was not a place of peace and prayer, the shadows on every column made you wary of enemies hiding behind them. the flickering candles made you think of ghosts that must’ve followed you from the beaches of the stepstones, all the way to oldtown. yet, your cousin bore no such thoughts like yours. he was completely at peace as he went to the prayer table to kneel. he glanced at you, a silent command to come to his side, immediately. you obeyed, not out of respect to your cousin, but because you had nothing better to do.

after lighting a few candles, your cousin put his hands together in prayer, and you moved to mirror him. you could tell he was beginning to pray a silent prayer in his head, but you didn’t have an inkling of a clue as to what you wanted to ask the gods. in your heart, you wished to ride off and bother yourself with another battle alongside the prince you so faithfully served, but your elders had confined you to oldtown for the time being after an embarrassing display of a negligence of faith when you were asked to lead a prayer before a meal, and you had forgotten the words.

perhaps they truly did wish to have you remember what it meant to be a hightower, and what better role model than your lord cousin, future voice of oldtown, to be your role model.

you released a deep sigh as you closed your eyes. what a concerning thought for a young hightower man to wish for a war.

some time later, your cousin had shoved your shoulder, and your entire body jerked awake. it seems you had fallen asleep in the middle of a fake prayer session. your cousin could only express a deep disappointment in your actions. you groaned and followed him out.

gods, ormund wanted to be rid of you. you were nothing like your siblings; no longer faithful or honorable. yet, it seems you were the most truthful of the three children of otto hightower, in fact, you were probably the most honest of all your bloodline. you were so terribly bad at lying, so bad at hiding your intentions, and so horrifyingly bad at pretending. it was probably one of the only things that made you seem likable in ormund’s eyes.

you followed behind him at a sluggish pace. ormund planned to abandon you there in the sept after rudely waking you, yet you followed behind him like a lost puppy, yawning and muttering things to yourself that ormund cared very little for. ormund planned to lose you somewhere along the halls, but you kept close to his heels.

“what do you want?” he sighed, turning to you in the middle of an empty hallway.

“i’ve nothing better to do, cousin.” you complained.

“then go bother someone else,” he replied angrily.

the look you gave him was something else. it was sad, in the way a kicked mutt looks to you for pity. it tried to tug at his emotions, but he steadfastly denied you. he turned on his heel and escaped you without another word. he hoped his father would find some other person to keep you occupied; he knew from your youth that you, the youngest and most spoiled of your mother among your siblings, could not, and should not, be left alone no matter what. but ormund thought anyone else would warmly accept your company, anyone other than him.

so he left you.

after a few years, ormund finally found you tolerable. you were no longer the energetic youth of your glory days as a knight, and you had mellowed out to a certain degree. you liked to wander about the streets of oldtown, extending a helping hand to those in need. ormund could almost throw up at the sight of you mingling with the commonfolk, standing alongside them as if they didn’t smell like pig piss and shit. thankfully, you always thought to wash yourself up after your adventures in the city.

perhaps it was because you were finally joined by your brother, the one you truly looked up to since you were young enough to form thoughts. or perhaps it was the new addition to the family, following queen alicent sending her youngest child to ward in oldtown. you loved daeron, and frequently stole him from ormund when he wasn’t looking, always bringing him with you to the city streets, teaching him to show kindness and empathy even to the lowest of scum.

ormund glared at you from across the dining table. his little ward, daeron, had insisted on having his sixth name-day dinner with you and gwayne only, but as ormund was also his uncle, he was invited to the small, private affair. ormund didn’t know whether it was yours or gwayne’s idea.

“i do not understand why we must celebrate so intimately.” ormund speaks up, gaining yours and gwayne’s attention.

“because, my dear cousin,” you start, handing daeron the meat on your plate as you pick out his vegetables. “daeron is far too young to be presented to a horde of old men.”

“he should celebrate his early name-days with people he is already familiar with.” gwayne adds, his gaze falling to you taking out the leafy greens on daeron’s plate. “put those back.”

“he doesn’t want to eat them, though.” you replied to your brother.

“he needs a very specific diet when he is still young, you fool,” gwayne sternly insists. “otherwise he will not grow strong.”

omund watched the bickering back and forth. he feels vaguely irritated at the interaction; he's never seen such a display of closeness, even between his parents or other cousins. daeron sat between you both at the round table, completely oblivious to the conversations around him as he was more preoccupied with his green-less plate.

“i cannot fathom how people can stomach such an… oily meal.” ormund breaks the conversation between you and your brother. “do you ever wonder about such things, cousin?”

his eyes fall to you and you grow silent. it seems his words have dampened your mood, which on the other hand, lifts ormund’s spirits. gwayne shook his head at the sight of you deflating under ormund’s gaze.

“i should escort daeron back to his room. the night is growing deep, and he needs plenty of rest for tomorrow.” ormund clears his throat and stands, motioning for daeron to come with him with an outstretched hand.

the boy had looked between you and gwayne, and after assuring nods from his two uncles, he left with ormund. ormund held daeron’s little hand as he escorted him to his room nearby. the boy was timid around him, as if afraid of him still. ormund didn’t know what it was in him that made him feel differently for the boy. he had not the silver-gold hair of his siblings, nor their pearly white skin. but his eyes were a deep lilac, and he had hatched a baby dragon. part of him was hightower, and visibly so. he should feel closer to the boy, his ward. but his strong distaste for the targaryen’s always bothered him, enough to keep the boy at arm’s length.

“go on, boy,” he tells his little nephew. “the night is deep. i shall personally see to your studies tomorrow.”

“thank you, uncle.” the boy says in a small voice before retreating into his room with a few servants to help him into bed.

ormund left him to their care and proceeded to his own chambers. he passed by the private dining room, where he had left his cousins to themselves a few moments ago. the door was slightly ajar, the slightest light source emanating from inside the room. perhaps you and your brother were still there. he moved to push the heavy doors open, but through that tiny little slit, offering him a slim view into the room, he could vaguely make out yours and gwayne’s figures, huddled together near the window, whispering and giggling about something only the two of you knew about.

perhaps you two were too deeply in your own little world to have noticed him lingering behind the doors; ormund’s eyes were trained on the two of you, the way you two spoke to each other, laughed together, like everything came so easy to you both, while ormund was on the sidelines despite being the heir to oldtown. he had no siblings to dote on, no cousins he was particularly close to. he’d heard it was because they all thought him cruel, especially during their younger years, when they all thought ormund was an even bigger cunt than he was now.

ormund could imagine you and gwayne talking about him, laughing about him behind his back. he heard nothing of the sort, but he knew it deep inside him, like a bothersome stomach ache he could not get rid of after every meal. and he hated you even more for it.

ormund was locked in his study again, toiling away at financial records and matters of oldtown, peering through one paper after the other. daeron was elsewhere, training in the courtyard with gwayne, perhaps, or with you, in the library, reading about stories of dragons and old valyria. both things, ormund hated. daeron was his ward, yet he was anywhere but by his side.

the doors to his study suddenly opened. “if it isn’t daeron, you can get out.” ormund hissed, never looking up from his papers.

“i came to see you, cousin.”

ormund looked up and saw you standing there on the doorway, dressed quite simply in an ashy gray tunic and dark pants. yet something about you seemed to glow so beautifully in his eyes. quickly, he shook the shuddering thought out of his head.

“what do you want?” he exhaled sharply.

“i’ve heard from daeron you have yet to eat something today,” you answered, referring to the tray you were holding with one hand supporting the bottom. ormund wondered how he’d missed that. he rubbed the weariness from his eyes and turned to you as you approached his desk. ormund did nothing to stop you.

“why are you here, instead of one of my servant boys?” ormund asks as you clear a space on his desk for the tray of food.

every time you drew close, ormund could catch a faint whiff of your scent. grapes and pomegranate, a fruity smell you seemed to favor over more floral scents. normally, he would find himself irked by you in his general space, but the scent on you had eased the tension on his nerves enough for him to tolerate you rearranging the items before him.

“i hear you had… creatively expressed your anger again earlier today,” you glanced over at a nearby dresser, the wood chipped and chopped in various places. “i simply worried you may erupt once more at the poor boys.”

ormund sighed and picked up the spoon. upon looking at his meal, he was pleasantly surprised to find mostly greens and fruits, less of the oily meats he hated so much.

“why have you lost your temper again, pray tell?” you asked, seated across him now with one leg crossed over the other as you leaned your upper body close to him, a signal to let him know you were listening.

“it is nothing.” ormund replies, his voice tense.

“come now, cousin, we are family, are we not?” you expressed to him. “and do not lie to me again.”

“merchants dealing with missing wares in the ports. the city has also seen an increase in poverty, more and more are seen begging in the streets with every passing day.” ormund finally admits.

somehow, he could not find it in himself to resist you and he poured out all his problems into your listening ears.

“and i am supposed to take a wife.” ormund finished after taking a bite of his peach.

“that is good news, no?” you ask. “you do not seem very happy.”

“it is my duty, i do not have to be happy over my duty.” ormund explained to you.

you were quiet for a moment, as if you were processing his words as you watched him eat the meal you so thoughtfully prepared for him. ormund wasn’t used to being watched so closely while he was eating; usually, his servants would stand in the corner and wait for him to ask something, but you? you were his cousin, therefore traditional servant manners did not apply to you.

“why don’t we go out into the city tonight? gwayne will accompany us!” you eagerly suggest after ormund finished the last of his meal. “if your work here at your study is so mind-numbingly boring, then perhaps you need a change of scenery.”

“and you suggest i go out and see the problems written on these reports, in person?” ormund asked in disbelief, prepared to reject your offer.

“come now, it will be fun,” you try to convince him. “besides, how can you be lord of oldtown if the people do not see you?”

so here he was, with his two cousins, following closely behind them while wearing a discreet, black hood to conceal his face. meanwhile, the two of you and your brother were openly travelling, caring very little, it seems, for your appearance. ormund knew of a street in oldtown, teeming with brothels and prostitutes. the blackstone street, is what they referred to it. the blackstone referred to the impurity of the people on that street, staining the white stone on their part of the city, black with the filth of their souls.

you grabbed ormund’s wrist after noticing him falling behind a few steps. you dragged him inside a brightly-lit building, greeting the women by the door. women dressed in tight or loose clothing, wearing only a single cloth around their body as a pathetic way to conceal themselves. ormund was not impressed by any of them. a woman sashayed up to him, impressed by his handsome image, she began to dance around him, trying to tempt him into her arms. ormund grew distracted for a moment, watching her hypnotizing movements, gracefully swaying left and right, her hips first, her upper body following after.

for that brief moment ormund was distracted, he had lost sight of his two cousins, and he was alone in a pleasure house, surrounded by men fucking women, men fucking men, and women fucking women. it was all so abhorrent in ormund’s eyes, he wanted to turn away and throw up, to wash his eyeballs thoroughly of the lustful images he could not be rid of. he quickly wandered deeper into the house, navigating his way through whores getting pounded in all sorts of positions left and right.

“gods, this is the kind of place my cousins go to?” ormund sneered. he pushed past a couple, blocking his path in the most inconvenient pose imaginable. ormund was beginning to think his cousins had abandoned him out of spite. he quickly took a whiff from his pomander, inhaling the scent of herbs and oils to ease his growing displeasure.

then, he heard them. through the cacophony of sounds; moans, screams, he knew how to distinguish his two cousin’s voices.

there, in a room tucked at the end of the long hallway of debauchery, were his two cousins, completely lost in their own world. gwayne had some young man beneath him, his cock stuffing that whore’s hole good, while the whore had his cock inside you, completely unable to move from the sheer strength of gwayne atop you both alone. ormund immediately wondered what kind of fucked up nightmare he had wandered into. as if it wasn’t bad enough that his two cousins were indirectly fucking one another, the whore they had sandwiched between them, bore such a striking similarity to you, it was almost uncanny.

“it seems… ah—ormund has decided to..fuck…join us after all!” you smiled widely, voice choppy from gwayne’s thrusts above you.

gwayne pauses his movements. as soon as you moved to escape beneath, he lifted himself and freed you and the whore. you bounced off the bed and hurried over to ormund.

“cousin, were any of the pretty ladies out there not to your liking?” you asked him, reaching for his wrist. ormund lets you touch him, probably too stupefied to do anything at that point. you and gwayne share a concerned look at ormund’s lack of a response.

“cousin?” you called, gripping his shoulders in your hands.

before him, you stood naked and bare and completely unashamed of your current state. ormund wonders why, what has your father done that was different from his for you to end up so differently than him? he thought you were different from the moment you’d met, different from him and your siblings, your other relatives, and any other hightower before you. you were honest and kind to a fault, that it infuriated ormund that a man like you existed.

so breathtakingly beautiful, so effortlessly kind and empathetic, so well-loved and cherished even by strangers, so honest and kind. people clamored for your attention, ladies waited at the chance to be betrothed to you, knights fought for a chance to fight by your side.

it was all so utterly infuriating and unfair.

and here you stood, the purity of you stained. fucking another man was a sin recognized by the faith, fucking your own brother was a sin deserving of a lifetime spent in the fiery pits of hell.

yet ormund yearned for it—for you. his larger palms cradled your face so tenderly as he studied your face closely. you spoke no words, only allowed him to do as he pleased. his face drew close to yours, his warmth colliding with yours as his forehead sticks to yours. he contemplates, it seems, on what it is he wishes to do. but you’ve known for a long time now what men like your cousin needed. they did not need to be led on, guided on what to do, but instead, they required patience and understanding.

both, you had in abundance.

gwayne, it seems, took to resuming his attention on his whore. he was nothing more than a cheap copy of you, anyways, so you cared little for them. right now, your eyes were on ormund, waiting for him, for what he would do.

finally, he connected your lips together in a messy, almost inexperienced kiss. but there was a hunger behind his actions, and you sought to answer his appetite with what you had. ormund had pushed you backwards, to the bed, where he shoved you down and climbed on top of you to reconnect your lips. your hands worked efficiently to undo his breeches, freeing his already half-hard cock. your mind was going numb now, ormund had yet to part from your desperate kiss, and your lungs needed air.

when he parted from you, heavy breaths were shared between you both. your hands had a good grip on his cock, not the biggest nor the prettiest, but impressive on its own right, with thick veins along the sides. as you’d expected, he was well groomed down there as well. cleanly shaved. beside you, on the bed, was your little whorish duplicate, screaming as gwayne fucked him hard into the mattress. your attention on him was quickly pulled back to ormund. the man clearly didn’t like being ignored.

but you managed to take him by surprise. you flipped him over, straddling his hips, you smiled sweetly at your dear cousin, your hands wandering his perfectly toned chest, clean and shaven as expected of him. you ground your hips against his, massaging his cock between your ass in a sultry dance. ormund resisted the urge to moan. he threw his head back, his hands gripping your waist as if to tether himself to reality.

you moved downwards, situating yourself between his legs as you spread his thighs with your hands. his cock stood tall and proud, and fully hard now, and you kissed it sweetly, excited for a taste. you licked a strip up his cock, placing a playful kiss on the tip before your tongue started toying with his slit. the way ormund struggled to hold in his moans made your ego inflate. he was clearly giving in to the pleasure, his mind floating above the clouds of ecstasy. your lips enveloped his bulbous tip, your tongue swirling around the tip alone as your hands massaged his heavy balls.

you bobbed your head halfway, teasing him in the most ruthless way possible. ormund threw his head back, resisting the desire to fuck your mouth and dominate you completely. he wasn’t able to resist for long though, as his fingers threaded between your locks and gripped your scalp. suddenly, you no longer held control; it was with ormund now as he fucked into your mouth with terrifying power.

drool dribbled down your lips as your mouth struggled to accommodate him. your lips wrapped around his cock, being mindful of your teeth, as his cock pushed deeper into your throat every roll of his hips into you. he picked up the speed, eyes squeezed shut as he was selfishly focused on his pleasure alone.

“fuck… fuck, your throat’s too good,” ormund managed to say.

you choked and gagged, but ormund cared not. the only thing he cared about was how close he was getting to his release.

“fuck…! take it all, you shameless cunt,” ormund forced his cock deeper down your throat until he was all the air you breathed. your eyes rolled back, nearly blacking out from the precariously lack of oxygen in your lungs. ormund came gushing down your throat, probably the first time he’d ever released if it was this plenty, it leaked past your lips.

when he released you from his grip, you immediately pulled back and choked in a desperate gasp.

“fuck, ormund…” gwayne quickly gathers you in his arms as he cleans the corners of your mouth with the back of his hand. “are you alright..?”

“f-fine..” you coughed out, breathing heavily.

“step aside, gwayne,” ormund commands. “he has brought this upon himself.”

ormund gently caresses your cheek, his smile, unkind and eerily calm. you gulped, his thumb pushing past your teeth, allowing his index and middle finger inside. you took his fingers into your mouth with little complaint. even you could not deny it was refreshing to be seeing your uptight cousin in this light. gwayne tried to comfort you from your right, placing gentle kisses along your skin, his whore forgotten on the bed.

ormund watches as you eagerly suck on his fingers, your tongue dancing between each digit, coating them thoroughly with your drool and a mixture of his release, still dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“i wonder what ser otto would say if he sees you both… his two sons, acting like those savage targaryen overlords he serves.” ormund sneered, pulling his fingers from your mouth. he gasps in awe at the sight of his fingers, his filthy fingers, shiny and wet with your drool.

ormund, stronger than you are right now, pulls you to the edge of the bed, pressing your cheek against the mattress with surprising strength. he pushes his index finger past the ring of your used hole with ease, until he was knuckles deep inside you, massaging every part of your gummy walls his fingers could reach. you moaned softly against the mattress, rolling your hips against his fingers, seeking more friction.

but then ormund grips your hip with his free hand in warning. you bit your lip, resisting the urge to move further. ormund’s fingers grazed every part of your insides, but somehow, managed to avoid your sweet spot at every turn. you were beginning to grow restless, and you were unable to stop yourself from moving your hips again.

“fucking whore, don’t move,” ormund scowled, bringing his hand down on your ass with an echoing slap. you moaned sharply.

as inexperienced as your cousin was, it seems he had no shortage of lust. even if he acted the same as those targaryen’s he despised, his loathing for you was stronger. beneath him right now, at his complete and utter mercy was you, and you took everything he gave with no complaints and no resistance.

the tip of his cock brushed against your entrance and you tried to press your ass against his cock, silently begging for it. “look at you, you’re no different than those whores outside, who shake their ass at any man with a coin to spare.” he scoffed.

his cock pushed inside you, and he hardly took care to go slowly. he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, as if to coax him into going deeper. you tried to roll your hips against his as his cock only grazed that sweet spot inside you, and he was oh so close every single time. if only you could get him to give you what you were begging for. but ormund was never kind.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, forcing you to look upwards, to meet the gaze of your whorish duplicate. your mouth hung open in a silent scream as ormund began pounding into you like a madman. the man before you swallowed up your lips in a filthy kiss, his tongue pushing past your teeth. you kissed back just as eagerly.

“you get your filthy hands off him,” in a single moment, the young man was violently shoved away from you, sent tumbling back into the soft pillows of the bed. you struggled to move as ormund continued to fuck you desperately from behind. “you little slut, do you get off on tonguing a filthier mirror-image of yourself?”

“n-no..! ormund, please–wait…!” you struggled to say, but every ruthless pistoning of his hips made it harder and harder for you to form words or thoughts.

“goodness, ormund, take it easy,” gwayne sighed as he climbed on the bed, pulling the prostitute into his arms. “people like my brother do not deserve to be treated unkindly.”

“your brother,” ormund seethed, pulling your face up to his. quickly, you scrambled to support your failing upper body with what little strength your body allowed. “is a whore.”

“seducing your own cousin, and i bet you’ve done the same to your own brother.” ormund whispers to your ear, fucking deeper into you until you could feel him rearranging your guts. his cock throbbed endlessly, while yours remained poorly untouched and neglected. yet it leaked with your impending release.

“who taught you such despicable acts? was it your master, that foul prince…” ormund’s cock drove deeper into you as he pushed you back into the mattress. “your cock leaks and your hole grips tightly on my cock, as if begging me to stay inside forever. did your master teach you that?”

“n-no… prince daemon… ngghh.. would never treat me—ahhh..” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. “so cruelly.”

ormund scoffed. “you think me cruel, is that it?”

ormund shoved your face into the sheets, and he raised his hand. anger was all that was seen in his face, anger, and jealousy. he brought his hand down on your ass, again and again, relishing in the sweet cries that poured from your lips. yet you did not tell him to stop. your voice was only a broken, mangled cry as you did nothing to stop your cruel cousin, who seemed to enjoy your suffering. for you, the pain, strangely enough, faded into a more euphoric feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“ormund, that’s enough–” gwayne tried to stop him, nearing him to stop his hand.

“shut it, cousin. look at him; he weeps and cries, but his hole clings to me, unwilling to let go,” ormund chuckled darkly. “tell me, have you ever seen such a beautiful sight?”

gwayne looks down at you, his younger brother, his baby brother, looking up at him through teary eyes and a lust-blown expression. ormund never eases up on you as he continues drilling his cock into your hole with no mercy. you managed to fix your position, supporting your upper body with your arms, hands against the mattress with your fingers gripping the sheets.

“go on, little whore,” ormund yanks your head back, forcing you to meet your own brother’s cock in front of you. “accept what you are.”

you’d stopped thinking rationally the moment ormund slammed his dick inside you. you grabbed hold of your brother’s cock, and slipped it past your lips with ease. you sucked on it with eagerness, savoring the taste of your brother on your tongue. ormund saw, and he thrust harder, faster, his grip on your hips, bruising. gwayne did nothing. he looked down at you and knew from the sight that you were exactly where you wanted to be, as twisted as it sounds.

between your brother’s gentle caresses on your jaw, and your cousin’s ruthless pounding from behind you, you had no thoughts to form for the two of them. all you could feel was pure and filthy ecstasy, building up inside you and threatening to explode. you could not say or do anything. yet as your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, all you could think about was how good you felt.

“and he’s been doing this for how long now?” late into the night, after endless rounds of sex, ormund’s and gwayne’s strength had finally been tamed.

your strength left you a long time ago, and you had taken to bed, cozily wrapped up in a few layers of wool as you blankly stared at the ceiling, unresponsive. ormund was sitting nearby with a cup of water. gwayne was beside you, arms wrapped around your bare figure as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulders. your head lay on his chest, silently listening to the sound of his heart pounding gently.

“rather, you two… how long have you been doing such a thing?” ormund asked, eyeing the closeness of you two.

“not long ago, though if i recall, it might have started around the night of his return from the battle in the stepstones.” gwayne answered simply.

“and you held no reservations in partaking in such a… barbaric act?” ormund sneered, taking a sniff of his pomander.

“of course we did, you fool.” gwayne spat unkindly. “it’s none of your business anymore. this will be the first and last time you get your way with him.”

ormund was still busy wrapping his head around the prospect of you and gwayne, how long you both have been doing such a thing, how this relationship of yours twisted into something dark and sinful. he was currently going through an internal crisis. as of now, he was no longer that different from you and your brother, he had partook in an indecent act that would’ve had him hanged if anyone else in the family found out. yet when he sees you and gwayne, so naturally comfortable in your bare state, he wonders to what extent he could live as honestly as you two.

but that was a thought for another day. right now, he wanted to leave this disgusting pleasure house and forget everything that transpired in that house.

You slid your hand through the space between Maekar’s arm and his body before hooking it into the crook of his elbow. You kept yourself pressed close to his side, enjoying the soft feeling of his perfectly tailored suit, running your thumb back and forth over his tricep. Maekar turned his head and pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple before facing forward again and out to the mingling crowd of people at the party. 

The two of you made a stunning image standing there on the fringe, pressed close to one another but standing tall and confident. He was the picture of stony elegance, a sharp all-black suit, hair neatly combed, and his signature resting scowl marring his lips and eyes as he studied the crowd. You wore a beautiful black cocktail dress, but where he remained stony, you smiled brightly, offering hellos and waves to anyone who greeted you. 

“Fifteen more minutes, maximum, then we are leaving this fucking place,” Maekar leaned down and murmured in your ear, his nose grazing your hair as he straightened up once more. You laughed softly, petting his bicep with your other hand and resisting the urge to push up and kiss him firmly in front of everyone. 

“You can’t and you know it. It’s your company that is throwing this party, these are your employees and they deserve the respect of your presence for a while longer at least,” you chided him kindly. He only grunted in response, scowling a little harder, but he did not argue back and you knew he knew you were right. 

The two of you made a round of the room, stopping occasionally to talk to the employees that Maekar actually liked and those who liked you more than they did him. You sipped from glasses of champagne or fancy cocktails (or tumblers of whiskey in Maekar’s case) and eventually settled into the gentle buzz of the alcohol that made conversation and smiles easier. 

The two of you found yourselves back at the edge of the room, claiming a dim corner for yourselves, uninterested in the company of anyone but each other. Maekar leaned against the wall and you pressed yourself tight to his front, feeling a little loopy from the drinks and the tiredness that began to set in. You hummed softly along to the music as he fluttered his half-closed eyes, gazing at you with so much love that your chest felt full to the brim. 

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, draping your arms over his shoulders as he held you by the hips, grip firm. He hummed at that, the rumbling of his chest moving warmly through you, and he leaned down into the space of your neck, sighing so his breath brushed the delicate skin before gently running the tip of his nose along the length of it. 

“You smell divine,” he murmured, his lips lightly grazing you, “I fucking love the way you smell.” 

You giggled softly, going all warm in the cheeks and chest, and you dipped your head down to softly bump it against the side of his. 

“You charmer,” you murmured, and he huffed an amused sound, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck before pulling back to look you in the eye. 

“I’m tired,” you murmured then, pouting a little as you leaned forward and nudged your nose with his. His hands were firm and hot at your waist and you wished you could just be enveloped by that feeling. 

Maekar leaned forward and pressed a soft peck to your mouth with a tender smile, pulling back just to lean in and press another, and repeat the motion a few more times after. You smiled and rubbed the side of your nose against his. “I want to go home, have you cuddle me properly,” you added, leaning even further forward to properly hug him, pressing your face into his neck now. Maekar hummed and then smiled warmly when he heard your next murmur of “I want you all to myself.” 

He ran a hand over the back of your head and all the way down your back until he wrapped his arm around your waist. He pressed soft kisses to the side of your head before saying, “I’ll have them bring the car around, love,” and felt you smile and nuzzle against his skin in utter contentment. 

“Love you,” you sighed, running your fingers gently down his back. 

“Love you more,” he whispered. 

Excerpt from an InterviewMag Profile with Interim CEO of TargCorp Maekar Targaryen: 

I: Thank you so much for doing what has become quite rare for you despite your very public position. 

M: Mmm, sure. I don’t like doing these sorts of things. My life is no one’s business but my own. I don’t understand this obsession with invading people’s privacy. 

I:...*clears throat* Um, still, thank you for doing this. I think many people find that you are in quite an interesting position. You come from a prestigious lineage that goes from kings and aristocrats to prolific business owners and past presidents. Your eldest brother has just won the election and is set to start as president. You took over his role as acting CEO of TargCorp while he campaigned and now as he completes his term. Your brother has actually said that he wanted you in his cabinet and was dismayed that it may not be possible due to this. It seems like everything is going on. 

M: And the world continues to turn *rolls eyes*. *long pause…* Baelor will be the best leader this country has ever seen and will likely ever see again. I’m happy to take on whatever burdens if it means he is able to fulfill his duty. 

I: *small smile* Well, that’s rather beautiful. It’s very obvious that you and your brother love one another. 

M: *scowling* Of course I fucking love my brother. I love all my brothers. Why would that be in question? 

I: It’s-it’s not, sorry, just a figure of speech. 

M: Mhm. 

I: You recently celebrated your two year anniversary with your partner, is that correct? 

M: *face softening slightly, eyes going a little distant* Mmm, yes, it was the only thing to look forward to that fucking week. 

I: Did you do anything special? Any surprises for her? 

M: *grunt* We went out for a picnic then went home. 

I: Aw, that sounds romantic! 

M: Mmm. 

[Real] Headlines That Have Appeared Concerning Maekar Targaryen and Y/n L/n: 

The Westerosi Sun: “Controversially Young Girlfriend Alert? Maekar Targaryen spotted dining with mystery young woman” 

Kingslanding Post: “Family Hike! Maekar Targaryen, girlfriend, and children seen lakeside near Summerhall estate” 

Eyrie Times: “Viral Now: The Discourse around an interview clip of Maekar Targaryen calling for his girlfriend using only the term ‘woman’” 

BusinessMag: “Whatever Maekar Targaryen is doing is working. Stock prices for TargCorp continue to rise for second successive month” 

Dorne Daily: “The rise of older men dating younger women in the media. A Case Study of Maekar Targaryen and Y/n L/n” 

Westeros Weekly: “‘He’s a fucking asshole, but his girlfriend’s fit’ Scathing remarks from owner and CEO of StormsEnd, Lyonel Baratheon, on rival Targaryen” 

WBC: “Maekar Targaryen and partner Y/n L/n make rare joint appearance to attend 98th Academy Awards” 

WDeuxMoi: “Step-Mother’s Day: Y/n L/n seen having fun day out with 4 of her partner’s children” 

Excerpts from a Substack post titled “The Controversial Character” 

“I don’t think there is anyone in Westeros who has not heard of Maekar Targaryen. I also do not think that there is any person in Westeros who has not heard the pervasive discourse around the recent reveal of his relationship with Y/n L/n. If you are new to the discussion, however, then allow me to give you some background information. 

“Almost one week ago, pictures were released and the news began to make the rounds of Maekar Targaryen having been spotted out to a quiet but obviously romantic dinner with a mystery woman. The internet sleuths of course began to do what they do best, and soon it was discovered that the woman was Y/n L/n, an HR consultant working on President Baelor’s election campaign.  While neither has made any public statement about their relationship, other anonymous sources have suggested that the couple met at the campaign offices in passing many times before venturing into a personal relationship. From what can be gathered, they have been together for a while but have been keeping it lowkey due to Maekar’s famous loathing of the press. One source claimed that she had met his children and was already well ingratiated with the family, while another suggested that they were househunting together recently. If the rumours are to be believed, this is a serious relationship seemingly headed toward marriage if that’s the sort of thing they are interested in.” 

“Maekar Targaryen has long been the press’s darling. Translation: he hates the media and they love to chase him. He has been described in many different ways ranging from ‘gruff and grumpy’ to ‘combative and disrespectful’, from ‘straightforward and no nonsense’ to ‘harsh and arrogant’. His dislike of the media is well-documented, with many instances of him scowling and shoving past paparazzi, grunted one word answers to journalist questions that he did not like, and wonderful comments such as “you illiterate cunt, what do you not understand about step back?!” aimed at an invasive cameraman, or “I spent my fair share of time in the military yet this is more fucking torturous than anything I ever went through during enlistment” at a mandatory press conference during a business summit.  While his media team may be in a constant state of despair due to his seeming incapability of being media trained, this spicy personality has drawn lots of eyes, and any publicity is good publicity. He is a highly divisive character, but the nature of this also means that there is a significant portion of people who are avid supporters and fans of his. This is definitely helped on by his straightforward and decidedly untrained media presence. Comments such as “he would rather fuck a whore on camera than answer a straightforward question about his approach to healthcare” when speaking about Daemon Blackfyre, his brother’s main rival for the presidency, sparked both outrage and cheers. “A lame horse would do a better job at running that company than that fool” was another such comment aimed at the highly disputed appointment of the new CEO of Ashford Inc.” 

“While I do think it’s fun to gossip and speculate, I also think this obsession with scrutinising age gap partnerships in the current media has become a bit of a farce. I acknowledge that there can be a real danger in such scenarios, with horrible possibilities such as grooming or coercion or abuse, but when two mature adults decide to engage in a relationship and there are no overt signs of danger (in fact there are signs of it actually being a beautiful and wonderful partnership!) then surely we should all just leave it alone. I for one wish Mr Targaryen and Y/n the absolute best of luck and hope they find their happily ever after together.” 

“Guys, guys,” Tanzelle called, gathering the attention of her co-workers, also known as the Red Keep public relations and media team. Dana glanced up and raised an eyebrow, Duncan turned in his chair to face her, eyes big and open, and Raymun continued eating his lunch but made sure he communicated that he was paying attention with his eyes. “Apparently there is a paparazzi video of Maekar that’s going to go live in a couple hours.” A collective groan rose into the air, everyone’s faces crumbling into grimaces, palms pressing to foreheads and a palpable air of disappointment appearing. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Raymun grumbled, shaking his head. 

“I wonder what camera man gets called an ‘apish cunt’ this time,” Dana sighed, pulling out her phone and beginning to shoot off messages to get early access to the video. 

“At least it’s not a video of Aerion or Daeron,” Dunk tried to soothe, attempting a nervous smile, but everyone just offered deadpanned looks and he popped his lips, “okay,” he dragged out, “point taken.” 

“Maybe it’ll just be another video of him keeping Aegon on his child leash. It’s not necessarily the best look but that boy kind of needs it,” Tanselle added, huffing a sarcastic chuckle as she attempted to extort a copy of the video from her contact without having to pay. 

“That would be better than dealing with another video of him calling Y/n ‘woman’ or ‘wife’. If she’s alright with it, why the fuck is everyone else getting so worked up?!” Raymun scoffed and turned back to his lunch, stabbing at the apple salad, but everyone around him chuckled quietly. 

“Right, I’ve got the video,” Dana exclaimed, turning towards the screen mounted on the wall, “I’ll airplay it so everyone can see.” The others all put their phones away and focused on the screen, silently praying the fallout would not be too difficult to manage. 

The footage was a little grainy, taken from a distance in a dimly lit and crowded room. The lighting was a warm amber, and you could just about make out that it was Maekar in the distance because of how the light reflected off his pale white hair. The camera then zoomed out just a tad and it made the video clearer. 

Maekar was dressed immaculately in an all black suit, practically swallowed up in the shadows, but the real surprise was the genuine smile just touching at his lips. He was leaning against the wall with you tucked up right against him, one of his thick arms a band around your waist and curling around your back. You wore an elegant midlength cocktail dress, your heels adding to your height so that when Maekar buried his face in your neck, he did not have to bend very far. You could see his head moving just slightly where it was hidden there, your arms draping over his shoulders and your hands caressing softly at his back.

Nothing was audible, but it was obvious that you then giggled quietly, tilting your head against his and murmuring something in his ear in return. His arm pulled back so he could rest his hand firmly on your waist, and he lifted his head a little so he could look you right in the eye, that same soft smile still painting his lips. Your fingers rested against the back of his neck then, scritching lightly at the base of his head, and he seemed to sigh, then lean in and begin pressing gentle pecks to your mouth. You nuzzled your nose against his and happily accepted them, somehow melting even further into his grip, and then the video panned down to the floor and cut off. 

Dana and the others all continued to stare at the screen in silence. Raymun and Dunk’s mouths dropped open in awe, minds blank. Tanselle smiled brightly, on the verge of giggling in glee, and Dana too was absolutely beaming. The room erupted into cheers, whoops, clapping, and even Dana jumped up from her seat with a little cheer. 

“Right! This calls for a bottle of champagne, it’s decided!” Another round of claps and cheers, and the others in the room began high-fiving each other. 

“I can’t believe this!”

“The day has finally come!”

“I could cry!” 

“Oh to see this day,” Tanselle wiped fake tears from her eyes before bursting into laughter. “FREE positive publicity for Maekar Targaryen, a gift that could only have come from the Seven themselves.” 

The loud pop of a cork sounded from behind everyone, and another chorus of cheers erupted. Oh yes, this was a day to be marked in the history books.

“Not fufilled the agreement? I don’t understand what-what does that mean?” you sighed and ran your hand through your hair anxiously, you just wanted to leave, have this matter settled and crawl into a cave somewhere and wait for your feelings on the matter to dissipate!

“He claims that the marriage was never consummated.” He delivered the news like he’d said it five time already that day and for that you were greatful.

“are you serious- I fucking blew him every bloody morning!” Baelor pulled his glasses off when your voice raised and he sighed.

“Oral sex is not considered consummation.”

“I wanted a no fault divorce.” You turned in on yourself eyes getting a bit distant. You had wanted to have proper sex with him, really you did but it just never worked. Something was broken inside of you and things just hurt and he would groan about not being about to get in or about the tears. “Why is he doing this…” you were completely deflated. Baelor had seen it before in many of his clients, he knew you were done. That this needed to be resolved or you’d lose yourself to it.

“Because your almost ex husband is a worthless prick set on milking you for every pound you have while dragging you through the mud for something that I imagine is his fault.”

You were stunned. He had been so reserved with his comments before this, profession almost to a fault. But now he was sitting on the sofa beside you and calling your husband a prick. Which was true, nothing he said was false. Baelor did not lie and he did not take any clients that he felt needed dishonesty to win their case.

“it’s not?” You looked at him, at the smile smile was formed on his lips and then your eyes drifted to his tender mismatched eyes.

“No, your bodies limitation are not a crime…and a persons partner should be understanding of that…should help you with it.”

“he tried…it just-“ your thought closed tighter and Baelor noticed, but he kept his gaze at your face. “He did try.”

“how?” Baelor swallowed and watched you flush.

“with um…lubricant, a lot of it.” Perhaps this was relevant to the case. The hand that Baelor laid on your thigh felt personal though, not strictly professional.

“he is not going to get anything in the record about your martial bed.” Baelor promised you and he could feel the muscle in your leg relax slightly. “You cannot let your experience with him bleed into the rest of your life.”

You nodded and let out a held breath. “Thank you…I just, I want to wash my hands of him and just move on. I so appreciate your help-“ At some point while you’d been talking both of you ease closer to one another and by the time you started to say the last word of your sentence his beard was tickling your face.

You haven’t wanted, really wanted to kiss anybody in years and now your lawyer was looking at you, seeing you-actually hearing you and being understanding and…and you wanted to kiss him so bad.

So you did. You kissed him with such a hunger that Baelor had to grab you around the waist so he wouldn’t be pushed off the narrow sofa. He told himself that he also had to press his weight forward and slide you back until you were laid out beneath him.

“there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s him. I’ll make sure he knows that.” He was going to make sure she bloody knew it too. Whatever issue there were in her marriage she wasn’t the one at fault, or at least not the only party in the wrong.

“I can’t-“ you pushed up against his chest when his fingers slid under your dress.

“Because you don’t want to?”

“no-because…because I don’t work right.” Baelor kissed you to shut you up. That was clear as day. He had a feeling the issue was less you and more your partners inability to cater to what you needed.

“let me deal with this.” He said that for records and appeals and for the calls with your ex’s lawyer. He dealt with all of that and with great efficiency so you did not doubt that this, you, would be the same.

“o-okay.” You nodded and he kissed your neck because he can feel in your breathing that you’ve tensed up. He needed you calm, your body needed you relaxed. He kissed for a long time, told you how pretty you were, that you were smart and that you were to good for your ex. His built you up so much with muffled compliments that your legs started to open. His hand able finally to tickle your inner thighs with the rings he wore.

“breath.” He kissed your jaw. “Try and keep these muscles relaxed for me.” You nodded at the couching and laid back eyes sealing as his knuckle touched the gusset of your underwear.

“you touch yourself?” He asked and you flushed but stayed still.

“yes…just my clitoris.” You admit and you can feel Baelor sneak his fingers around the edge of your panties and he touched a spot that you were familiar with. Gently fielding your clit with his thumb.

“never inside here?” You jumped some when a finger drifted down to ghost against your right core.

“no!”

“shh,” it wasn’t harsh but he did need you to be quiet. For his sake and for yours. He wouldn’t be able to help you if every secretary out beyond his office got wind of strange noises. “I’m not going to hurt you…not going to force anybting in.” He circled your clit faster. “Trust me love, I just want to help.”

You stopped clenching, it took every ounce of focus you had but eventually you did it and it gave Baelor a the perfect opportunity to tip one finger into your core. Because your vagina had relaxed some, even fluttered from the continued stimulation he was providing against your clit. This was the moment and he took it. Your hands gripping against his shoulder and you hid your face in his neck, half because you knew you needed to be quiet and then also because you were scared to see his face if you failed.

You did not though, Baelor had gotten his middle finger into you all the way to his second knuckle and he ever so gently pulsed it. You were tight, profoundly, and he could feel the blood from breaking your hymen. The back of his neck tingled as he thought about the men you’d been with failing you, the doctors you saw just not dealing with this issue. When you grabbed at the back of his hair and he looked at you as a small O shape formed at your mouth and he felt you milk his knuckle as your clit twitched in indication of a orgasm he considered suiting your ex, and your doctor for gross neglect of you.

Prompt Masterlist/Baelor Targaryen Masterlist

Summerhall treats you well.

You’re unaware that it’s because one of the princes has become infatuated with you. It’s gained you protection. You’re bound to the castle, but you’re relieved from the anxiety of running through the forests and flying with no direction. Your maids and ladies that Aerion insisted you must have fuss over you daily, helping you bathe and dressing you in gowns that you find hard to breathe properly in.

They come and go. Some are too weak to deal with the endless hissing and biting, the teeth and claws that aren’t afraid to tear at innocent skin until the scent of warmed copper fills the room. Aerion has seen what you’re capable of. He’s seen the lacerations, the bite marks, the crimson that’s splattered all over your linens as maids rush to clean the mess. Beastly. He recalls his father describing you as such.

Yet … he’s mesmerized. Your chambers call to him, your entire being calls to him. If he was a stronger man perhaps he wouldn’t catch himself wandering off in the middle of the night, sauntering to the wing that’s keeping you locked away as an unruly but pampered prisoner.

When he finds you bare in your bed, kneeling in the sheets like you’re unsure of what to do with yourself, his breath catches in his throat. For once in his life— Aerion is careful. He’s light on his feet as he approaches you with empty hands held up in surrender and eyes that refuse to leave your own. Because you’re consumed with a certain kind of bloodlust he’s able to recognize. He sees it in himself.

“You yearn to fly once again, is that it?” He begins once he’s close enough, nearly kneeling at the altar your bed seems to be in this very moment, “Is that why you’re ripping out the throats of your ladies one by one, little dragon? You’re only proving them right. They believe you’re some wretched thing.”

A moment of silence passes. Your eyes widen.

He’s never had the absolute pleasure of hearing your voice. He’s heard complaints about your head-splitting screeches and colorful language when you’re displeased, but most days your rage is quiet. Terrifyingly silent and solemn, with the exception of a few huffs and growls.

“I don’t believe that— I can give you everything,” he says with a bite to his tone, as if his true intentions are coming to the surface. He’s a prince, he’s like them. “Anything you please, if you learn to behave yourself and possess the grace you’re capable of.”

You tilt your head.

Behave. You’re unfamiliar with that word. In every sense.

When you lunge forward, he’s already expecting it.

Aerion catches you. He catches you, and you sink your teeth into the right side of his neck. He’s felt the pain of battle but he’s never felt the searing, keen torment of being claimed by teeth that are blunt and sharp all at once. A choked sound escapes him. His hands tighten around your bare waist, his fingers sinking into your flesh that’s hot to the touch. Your own blood carries the flame that he’s chasing after. You’re a manifestation of his hunger, wrapped in a pretty facade and skin that feels like silk under his palms.

It’s a brand. You're marking him. At least that’s what he tells himself when your tongue drags over his skin in a mess of drool and blood. You’re taking in every drop. An eager attempt to taste a fresh kill for the first time in many nights. Except he isn’t fearful like something or someone you’ve hunted down, and that irritates you further.

Your growl is muffled by his throat.

The brothers were both too smart to involve themselves in the discussion in any meaningful way. It was best that you ladies discuss the arrangement, the scandalous agreement that was being made here in this room. You thought it best that it be Maekar that help them. Who could the crowned prince trust more than his own brother, one who hardly had any desire to take claims upon another child especially one he did not sire with you. You’d never speak of it and perhaps it was the fact that you’d not properly see the child that that made the concept of Maekars child wandering around the Red Keep claimed as Baelor and Jenas own that made it easier for you. You could imagine the child just looking like Valarr did when he was a boy of Maekar’s seed sticks with Lady Jena.

Maekar would lay with his brothers wife in hopes of her getting pregnant and you and Baelor would remain in the room. That was how worry or uncertainly about what was going on could be avoided from trickling into the minds of you and Prince Baelor. Nothing between Maekar and Jena would be hidden, you’d both be present for it.

No jealousy could fester.

You sat on the lounger that faced the bed, Maekar had put you there. His hands rubbing up and down the sides of your arm whispering assurances in your ear.

“Husband,” you reach out to pat his chest as you sit against the cushions. Able to hear Baelor with Jena near the bed, helping her undress. Their lips must have locked a few times because you could hear the sound of feverish wet kisses. This could not be easy for him, acknowledging that he may not be able to fufill his duty to Jena and the realm but that his younger brother could? It was quite mature to allow this to go on, then again Prince Baelor excelled at taking things in stride. “I was the one who broached the topic.” You’d told him about Jenas sad voice and longing words and you’d been the one to mastermind this whole thing. “Just…” your fingers rubbed up to his jaw and you held him there a bit firmly as your voice lowered. “Let this be the only time it’s required.”

You were somewhat possessive of him, not jealous, you couldn’t be. You did not see ladies smirk at him or maids linger a moment to long. But you her possessive of his time. What he had of it, you wanted dedicated to you and your family. Ideally this could occur once and not need any further discussion.

Maekar ducked his head to kiss you, gently brushing your hair back from your face and when he pulled back he pecked the soft spot under your ear. “Are you telling me to ensure it takes?” You’d moaned that out to him countless times since deciding that your child baring years were done. Everytime he was powerless against the premise of holding you down and fucking his spend deep into you.

Thank the gods for moontea.

“yes.” You smirk chin tipped up towards his face and your teeth pressed into your plump bottom lip. “Be kind to her.” You warned him. You did not ask for details regarding Jena’s marriage bed but the little trickling she’s let slip I’ve the years of knowing one another had not been very scandalous. Then again it was not as if you had shared that Maekar had fucked you against every surface of Summerhall when you first married, or that you enjoyed when he left prints of his hand up and down your body…or that he had devoured you so Feverishly before that the Maester had to treat a rash on your inner thighs.

He watched your hand move from his upper body down lower, fingers shifting below his trousers with determination and he grunted as you squeezed his soft manhood. “Maekar?” He was leaning down because your voice was as soft as a whisper. His hands pulling the pants open so his now hardening cock could be free.

“hm? What is it my love?” He was stroking your jaw and guiding you closer to his prick now.

“you have to fuck me after.” You whispered, lips brushing against the excess skin around his tip. “You cannot be tierd, cannot be spent fully.” Tongue darting out to lick his tip as you pulled his foreskin back. “I wish to be the final women you are within tonight.”

How could he deny you? He didn’t dream of it and especially not when you were say there with his cock against your lips and tongue.

“I wouldn’t dream of anything less.” He brushed hair from your temple as your mouth opened properly. “I love you.” He said gently, I love you was really the only words that Maekar said that ever truly came out softly. You savored them. Every time, never took hearing it for granted.

“Good,” you smiled just a bit because he was pressing against the back of your tongue and you gave a soft gaged when he hardened fully and filled your throat with his length and girth. You pulled back eyes a bit watery from it and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand silently telling him that that ness was he was getting from you right now. He was hard, it was time for him to go to Jena.

“thank you.” Baelor said, and his weight pressing against the lounger had you slipping against the cushion. Making you a bit closer to him. “For being this generous.” He clarified as your partners could be heard getting into the bed and working out some awkward logistics. You thought you heard something about getting on their back.

“of course my prince.” You respond to him but he can see your attention is clearly on the bed. On picking up what exactly is occurring.

Your hand picks at the Cushion some when you hear a wet sound and then lady Jena contently sighing.

“I could dictate what’s happening, would that make you more comfortable?”

“yes.” You nodded quickly and Baelor smiled a bit at how you shoulders settled. He could see what goes on, you should know as well.

“Jena is laid agains the pillows, I already took her slip off.” His voice was smooth and you found it easy to get lost in.

“on her back?”

“yes, Maekar is just rubbing her folds now. He hasn’t touched her pearl yet.” Baelor’s throat bobbed and he leaned toward you some to whisper. “She loves to have that circled.” You exhaled with a shakiness that gave away to much of how you felt to him.

“he’s preparing her-“

“Aye,” Jena’s voice hummed softly. “Aye he is.” She moaned legs parting for her good brother more.

You smile slight, it was relief to know she was enjoying this that much. Maekar was quiet but you expected nothing less, that didn't alarm you. He’d been quiet with you for a great while too.

“he’s holding her knee now, brining it up to her chest…” the want in Baelor voice is thick. “She’s smiling.” He told you as a side bar. “She’s…” his voice cut own when Jenas gasp filled the room.

“she’s tight-fuck.” Maekar grunted and you gripped the cushion knowing that he was inside her now.

“Can you hear that?” Baelor asked brow raised as the bed creaked and Jena whined. Maekar was slowly rocking himself in and out of her cunt now.

You did not responded because the sounds had your own mind spinning. Your skirts move just slightly from your thighs squeezing together. What sort of women gets aroused from this? From her husband taking his good sister infront of the woman’s poor husband and you?

Baelor noticed, because he was a man who’s life depended on noticing things ever small changes in demeanor. “Maekar,” he spoke calmly and had to clear his throat some because his wifes groans were filling the room quite a bit. She sounded like she was begining to truly enjoy the new sensation, the strech that was different between her thighs then the one she was used to.

“Your wife needs tending.” Your heart pounds and you turn just slightly towards the end of the lounger you know the prince is at. Lips frowning and brow knitted because you did not want whatever state you were in to be announced the the room.

“Baelor is gentle.” Jena purred from under the anvil, her hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck hoping to pull him back into the moment because currently he was sitting up to high for her taste and it was making her worried his cock was going to come out of her. He was studying you, your breathing and your hands and the wrinkle of your skirt where your legs had pushed tightly together. And he saw Baelor, his brothers mismatched eyes filled with genuine warmth as he took you in, his brothers fingers inches from touching a stand of your hair that laid against the pillow his hand was resting upon.

Baelor had always been kind to you, welcoming. Maekar married you because he loved you deeply, was enamored by you and the two of you chose eachother. There was no court matter that was solved by the union or parents making arrangements to prevent a scandal. Maekar was the fourth son, he could marry a woman simply because he wanted to. That was the one privlage of his position. Baelor for one was grateful when you two finally married because he was driven half up the wall watching his brother navigate forgin emotions. Warmth and tenderness and flirting were not languages Maekar spoke and so Baelor, ever the generous older brother, provided him with a great deal of guidance as the ravens flew back and forth carrying the conversations that would one day blossom into your marriage.

“I am fine,” you tell Baelor in a low tone, a hushed one. You did not want to be the reason this ended before it finished properly. It would feel like you all made quite big fools of yourself if this event did not end with Jena pregnant!

“you, sister,” his finger raised slightly to loop around a strand of your hair. “Are aroused.”

“let him help her Maekar,” Jena tugged his hair a bit and brought him back to her chest. His face gliding easily along her smaller chest. Nose nudging a hardened peak. “It’s only fair.” That second comment stuck him. Fair. He was stoned deep writhing Jena…if you were needing release and he could not provide it he did not want to deny you the sensation.

“Maekar,” you swallowed raising your voice and he knew the tilt of his name in your mouth like this meant you were seeking permission. “I am quite wet.” You admit. Baelor holds back his chuckle but he does tick his tongue fondly at your sweet admission.

“Gentle with her Brother.” Maekar warned. Greatfully he did not know what sort of lover his brother was, and so he did not know that Baelors roughness hardly even reached the tip of Maekar’s normal efforts with you.

You moved your hands from your lap and swallowed the nervous in your throat as his hand got lost in the hair at the nape of you neck. Rubbing your scalp there and gently brining you closer until one of your hands had to touch his thigh because of your didn't you’d just collapse down across him. He was hard, your hand had of course accidents landed right against his covered prick. It felt warm even through the fabric and you clenched at the idea of feeling something new inside of you. Maekar is the only one that has ever touch you there. A visiting lord or eager stable boy might have stolen a kiss from your lips and grasped your chest when nobody was watching but nothing more. You’ve only know Maekar.

Even Baelors lips, which now were softly pressing against yours felt thrilling. A new sensation, a new taste and sound in his throat and a new breathing pattern that you were finally close enough to truly sense. His hand was on your jaw, turning you exactly as he wanted you to be. Keeping you positioned close to him and within kissing reach. His lips felt gentle and warm and they were as explorative as yours was.

“mmm” you made a small squak when his tongue slipped into your mouth. Baelor shifting his hand from your hair to your back to tuck you up and onto his lap. Settling your cheek against his shoulder and he rubbed softly at your face and the join of your knee as you straddled his lap.

“shh, you’ll worry him-you know how he startles.” Baelor whispered against your mouth and you nodded opening your lips a tad more so the two of you could kiss properly.

Maekar watched his brothers hands like a hawk. He’d flipped Jena onto her front and pulled her hips up until she should get her knees under her. His hips slowing to a a slower place, perhaps because he was distracted or perhaps because he did not want to finish before he saw how you and his brother played out. He knew if he spilled his seeds in Jena that Baelor would be up and by her side. Propping her up with pillows and whispering encouragements in her ear. He was to dutiful of a husband to chase his own high when she needed him.

“can you help me with my dress m’prince?” You could feel his lips turn up into a wide grin at the title and your face pressed against Baelors neck as his hand moved to the ties up and down your back. Undoing them diligently until the fabric opened and only your chemise was still around your properly.

“he’s watching you.” Baelor informed kissing your jaw. “Shall I turn you around so he can see.” You nodded tenderly and sat up some to help your good brother with the movement. Your bum now against his lower stomach, the buldge in his trousers pressing between your spread open legs and your head tucked in just under his chin.

“she’s so beautiful.” Jena mused. She was envious of your body, not because she disliked her own but because she already saw Baelors hands settling into spot of your that existed because you’d carrier six children to term. The dips of your hips and the warm spot under your hanging breasts. Nipples large and seeming permanently swelled.

“Aye,” Maekar’s hips snapped harder at the view of your legs cast over his brothers knees and your cunt on full display to the room. He wanted to be inside of you. He wanted to stand up grab your neck and ask you if you wanted him or Baelor to be inside of you. He’d gladly fuck you into Baelors lap. Let his brother see how good of a husband he was to you. “Fucks sake-“ his hands gripped Jena’s hips when she pushed back against his forward motion to meet his thrust. He looked down to see her cunt eagerly swallowing him up, pushing him deeper into her each time he bottomed out. He wrapped an arm under her to help the tilt of her hips, pressing against her stomach and making it easier for him to hit the gummy soft womb. He had to move deeper within her to reach it than he did with you.

He was so dizzy from the blood that rushed out of his head and to his other one due to Jena’s glorious movements that his vision stayed on your moving arse for some time, only looking up when he heard your shuttering gasp.

Baelor’s arm was wrapped under your own. Wrist pinning your left breasts to your chest as his hand over most of the right one. Cool rings making gooseflesh form all across your skin and your nose twitched when his two fingers pinched your nipple.

“ahh, Gods Baelor-faster.” Maekar blinked at your words and his eyes fell to your lap. To the sight of two of his brothers fingers curled up within your leaking cunt and his thumb easing back and forth against your engorged pearl. “Fuck!” Your teeth clench and Baelor lets out a laugh as his fingers curl inside of you. Kissing your shoulder after and looking to the bed and right at his brothers.

“I blame you for the language.”

“fuck off.” Maekar bit out and this time it was you that chuckled dryly between purring.

Your hips were so wiggly that Baelor considered moving so you were pinned below him. But that would be selfish…then Your partner on the bed would not get to gaze at you. He would have told you that everybody eyes remained on you but be worried that you might get shy about it. He could understand that. People watched him constantly and though he has his vision he could not manage to look everybody in the eyes and note who was watching and what their eyes gave away about what they saw before them.

Jena stopped watching first, because Maekar was getting rougher. Her face squished against the mattress as she moaned. Maekar was Fucking the future queen with a force that made Baelor question if he should have been the one making warnings about remaining gentle.

“Mmm, Baelor-“ you grabed the back of his head pulling him back to your shoulder and your lashes fluttered over foggy eyes. “Take you cock out.” The request was so polite, so demure and quiet and yet. You’d said cock and from the way you were grinding yourself against his hand he felt confident in thinking you wanted his length out so it could be buried inside of you.

“as the lady wishes.” He would lot argue, if Maekar was inside of Jena that surely there would be no issue with him in you.

“AHh!” You gasped at just the hot smack of his cock against your glistening slit after it had been freed from the confines of his breeches. “In…now-please quickly.” You babbled and pulled harder at the dark hair you knew Baelor had. He was always such a visual contrast to Maekar, tan with hair rich in color. You diddnt know that alot of it has gone grey. Though you could feel the that some sections of his hair had a corse texture.

“yes,” he dropped his grip on your breasts and reached down to hold your side as he guided his tip away from your clit and to your core. You sucked him in the moment the throbbing appendage breeched entry to your heat. “Seven hells.” His fingers flexed against the abundant flesh of your side and he kissed at your back. His beard tickling the skin there but you were to wraped up in the overwhelming sensation and thrill of the moment to notice the tickle.

“Does she feel n-nice husband?” Jenas voice came out broken because Maekar was slamming against her from behind, his hips making a smacking sound each time they collided with her round bottom and he had grabbed some of her pretty amber kissed hair and pulled it so she would look forward to see what exactly Baelor was doing to you. You took him well, his cock jutting up into you and coming out dripping wet each time. He was less thick than Baelor and so that made this easier for you but other things were a challenge. Not knowing where exactly to touch him, or how his cock curved, not being able to look down at him and see if you were moving to high or to fast. You didn't know his grunts like you knew Maekars. As frightening as those unknowns were it also was somewhat exciting. Touches you did not anticipate and vibrations in his chest that you didn’t see coming because you couldn’t see that his brow was laced together. That his mouth hung open because you were bouncing up and down against his cock with the help of his strong hands on your hips to keep the trajectory of your ride safe.

“she’s going to cum-“ Maekar wasn’t talking about Jena, he’d already felt her walls flutter and her body go lose, he just hadn’t announced it to the room.

He could see yours approaching from a mile away, feel it in his chest even thought he wasn’t the one brining you to the peak. Your neck tossed back, hands gripping Baelors arms and your mouth wouldn’t shut, the groaning was just one long continues delicious sound.

You nodded fast. He was right, you were so close, able to feel the feeling starting in your toes and spreading up your frame, circling in your stomach and you gripped harder at whatever you could.

“Baelor!” You gasped, he felt soft between your fingers. “Gods! Oh gods my prince!” You cried out just before the rope in your stomach was about to snap.

“Wife!” Maekar voice boomed and you were pushed backs blankets falling through your fingers and suddenly the room felt different.

“Wake up,” Maekar was touching your face, his calluses unmistakable. Your eye were open but felt tierd and your hand rose up to rub at crust in the corner of one. “What in the gods name were you dreaming about?”

You shifted a bit, getting used to being in your body again. You were dress, in your nightgown, the covered stuffed between your legs and you could feel your hair braided down your back. You were in Maekars chambers, not his brothers. Not naked in Baelor lap. You could feel the sleeve of Maekars sleeping tunic near your collar. He was not stripped bare to impregnate Lady Jena.

“I-“ you sat up at once realizing what had just occured. Or…rather what hadn’t. All that has been a dream. You shouldn’t have gone to bed with the thought in your mind. You had been laying there with Maekar thinking about Jena’s dilemma but not voicing it to your husband. You must have just…slipped off to sleep.

“are you-my love are you well?” He inquired because not that he was more awake he was noticing your strained breathing and fast pulse, the layer of sweat on you and the blankets that were pinned between your thighs.

“yes-“ you answer to quickly and start to scramble from the bed. “I just-excuse me.” He had see the flush down your neck as you scurry to the privy. He watched the door close and then dares to touch the blankets you were laid within. Wet, the scent of your cunt all over them. He could hear your fingers moving frantically through your folds through the bathing chamber door but opts for make no comment. He lays back and waits for you to return, with your need settled and appearance collected, and he tries not to reflect on that fact that his wife, you, had almost climaxed in your sleep while calling his older brothers name.

Series: Prequel, Prequel 2, One, Drabble(2), Drabble(3), four, five, six, Family Headcannons, Seven , eight, Nine *, Aerion’s head cannons

Maekar Masterlist

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