queen of boning bones

lost in time but still in my heart WIP’s

OTHER:

The Most Wanted part 4, part 5 (I need to rewatch the series to recollect what was going on), previous parts to be found here

The Song of Wise Prince Oleg, part 3 (tbh, same as above), previous parts to be found here

inbox, I have some lovely ideas from anons and not anons. I see you, I remember about you and I'll do my best to answer you and I've dug up my archive to find the drabbles you based your requests on <3 (i'm sorry for the almost a ten-year-long wait)

Clink, clink, clink

The soft metallic sound followed every movement of your naked form. It was Lyonel’s idea to show him off the collection of jewellery he presented you almost everyday of your stay in Dorne. You thought of it as too much and redundant at the time, but now it had a perfect background of your sun-kissed skin, glowing with beads of sweat.

There was everything you could think of and more. Delicate, golden chains adorned with glass beads, a bigger one with precious stones that matched your eyes, some pearls with silver handiwork.

You felt ridiculous with this amount of wealth displayed on your body but one burning gaze from Lyonel melt all your doubts. Seven above could not stop him from getting to you and crushing his lips against yours in a needy and haste kiss.

“Woman, what you do to me is unbelievable,” he whispered huskily, taking in your form, admiring every piece adorning you, “You look like a gift from above.”

“Would you like to unpack me?” your fingers entwined into dark hair of his, holding him close for another kiss. “I see you took some of my jewellery,” you fixed your eyes on bracelets dangling around his forearm.

“Yes, I did. Are you going to punish me for that?” his hands were roaming all over, touching, feeling and squeezing your figure, “Gods, I need you.”

And that was the last coherent noise either of you would produce for some time.

Clink, clink, clink

“Look at you, taking me so well. Such a good, willing–ohh” you lost your thought at the burning sensation coiling up in your core. Your hips moved in slow, deliberate movements dragging desperate moans from man under you, “You like that, don’t you?”

All he could do was to silently nod as his fingers dug into your flesh, leaving possessive marks on it. Another broken whine escaped as you rocked your hips faster.

“Shhh, my love it’ll be over as soon as you give me what you need,” you whispered above his ear, admiring the ruin of his skin left after your nails.

Your fingers caressed the marks, drawing out shaky plea, “Let me come, please.”

“Is this what you want?” a cruel half smile appeared on your lips at Lyonel’s frantic gaze. You perfectly knew he was overstimulated and yet, you couldn’t help yourself but prolong a bit his agony. His cock twitching with every move on the border of spilling before you allow him to do so.

“Yes, gods, yes!” he reached the point where he didn’t care who would hear him. The only remaining thought was to release everything that build up to the point of boiling him inside out.

“Then come, my love,” you whispered into his ear, biting on the neck.

Your hand reached down to his manhood, hard, covered with precum, begging to be touched again. Mercifully, you did exactly that moving simultaneously with your thrusts. His whimpers of pleasure, each tremble you earned as you worked him towards his peak, was a delicious melody to your ears.

A low moan rumbled deep down in Lyonel’s chest as he came with erratic movements and twitches, staining your fingers and bedsheets beneath, “Such a good, obedient boy. Doing exactly what he’s told to,” you tugged his sweat dampened hair, revealing a completely fucked out expression.

You let him fall senseless on the soft mattress hiding tactfully your handiwork. You heard a soft groan as you backed and freed yourself from strap, abandoning it on the floor.

“Are you alright, my love?” you slowly find your way to embrace him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder, hands caressing tender skin.

“Mmhm, I’m better than alright,” he murmured, voice still bearing tunes of strain, yet he leaned in for your touch and smell. One hand travelled down in search of your soft hip, grabbing it as if life depended on it, “You did a wonderful job, my sweet. I’d never presumed in my wildest dreams… You have a natural talent, love,” to punctuate his opinion, Lyonel slapped your hip with a pleased hum.

You laughed warmly, peppering his shoulder blade with small kisses, “Well, I learn from the best,” you replied cheekily, biting into skin.

“You are a trouble, woman,” you giggled with content at his remark and rolled over to face him with the most innocent smile possible.

“I thought you liked me,” you cupped his face and fixed messed up curls. Lyonel laughed dearly and swiftly imprisoned your upper body under his.

“Woman, what shall I do with you,” his frame hovered above you as he studied you. How your eyes sparkled with mischief, now a bit uncertain of his intentions. How your hair spilled on the softest pillows in vivid colours adding more to your flushed physique, “Absolutely breathtaking,” his murmur followed by soft kisses along your jaw sent shivers down your back, igniting a stir in your abdomen.

“What are you looking for?”

“Hush now, wife. I’m not quite done,” his mouth followed your neck line down to jewellery.

“Lyonel –,” your breath hiked as man’s lips captured one of your nipples with pleased purr, immediately followed by sucking and groping your other breast, earning a shy moan. You observed his doing with half lidded eyes not sure what you enjoyed more. The view or the feeling building up in your core, “Lyonel…”

For a moment he stopped his sweet torture to observe you hungrily, pupils blown to extent you could only see them with a faint rim of his usual hazel colour.

“Come to me,” you pulled him closer for a kiss, buying yourself some time from his greediness. You drowned in sensation of his lips taking over yours, his tongue exploring your mouth, “Gods, Lyonel,” your whisper was barely audible, reserved only for his mouth to experience, “What are you thinking about?”, his hazy gaze all over your face told you he was up for something.

“I cannot neglect the other one, that would be a crime,” this time you felt teeth teasing your sensitive skin as he resumed his task dutifully.

Clink, clink, clink

The afternoon turned into the evening and even though the temperature was slowly surrendering to soothing chill of oncoming night, you were burning. Stretched out, on a display and mercy of your husband’s will. He would probably name it as the highest beading to the most divine creature that graced this land with its presence since arrival of Andals, or other pompous nonsense. Your mind was too occupied with the last waves of your second high, to come up with any other word than spent. Completely and utterly devastated as your husband’s fingers and hungry lips leapt at your over sensitive core, putting not a drop to a waste.

You stared blankly at the canopy above your head, trying to gather anything left from your lungs to ease the breath. Your eyes followed intricate pattern of vines, grapes woven between always-present suns, down to Lyonel’s vigilant eyes peeking from between your legs, where he got way too comfortable, in your opinion.

“What are you looking at?” you huffed, blush dangerously creeping back on your already elated face.

“The goddess incarnated. Breathtaking, astonishing, magnificent,” each word declared with reverence worthy of a Septon, landed on the altar of your womanhood, closely followed by offerings of his lips and tongue, much to your trouble. Involuntary, your thighs closed on Lyonel’s head, trying to escape the torment that brought you pleasure moments ago.

“Stop, for fucks sake,” you whined with a laugh lingering between the words, releasing your husband from his cage, “Choose your next laurel of victory, ser, and begone for a moment.”

He slowly rose from his position and with trail of soft kisses, nimble hands tracing ghosts of bruises across your hips, belly and rib cage, Lyonel dragged his body weigh on you capturing your frame carefully, “If only I could show you how you look in my eyes, my love,” he kissed your temple and you lips soon followed the same fate. You hated how quickly he was able to hitch your breath, especially when you could taste yourself on him.

“Seven hells, I do taste good,” you bit his lower lip with wicked laugh hearing his low growl against your throat. You caught something about how improper for a lady was to act in such a manner, murmured in between kisses. For a moment Lyonel stilled above your breasts, carefully picking the prize for his efforts to join the other necklace he was already wearing.

“Give me this one,” his fingers stroked a simple gold chain, conveniently caressing your breast along the way, drawing out a soft whimper. You lifted your head for him to free the desired trinket.

Your eyes wandered around Lyonel’s face, neck, bare chest decorated with jewellery complimenting his gold earring, silently observing further shenanigans as his palms explored your skin. You were lying comfortably on the mess that was a bed some time ago, enjoying his touch and closeness of his body.

Gods, he’s beautiful, you thought suddenly, your expression softening as your fingers ran through black of his hair, gently scratching scalp. You could call Lyonel many words handsome, boisterous, sometimes pain in the ass but right now, as his head was resting on your belly, arms securely wrapped around your waist and the rest of his figure was tangled between your legs, beautiful was the only word that suited him most.

“Are you asleep, my love?” you asked softly, when his breathing got suspiciously even and you didn’t feel no more fingers digging in your sides.

“No, just resting, thinking… imagining really,” he answered, shifting so he could meet your gaze.

“What exactly? If you don’t mind sharing,” your fingers stroked his hair again.

“Just everything and nothing. What will the future bring,” you rose your eyebrow waiting for him to continue, “you know, how many babes are we having and –“

“Having?” you inquired with quiet laugher.

“Well, we fuck like rabbits in spring, I wouldn’t be surprised if a little fawn wasn’t growing in you this very moment,” you scrunched your nose at the metaphor and how eagerly he flooded your belly with attention and kisses.

“A pretty, little babe smart like its mother, and strong as its father,” he murmured with soft chuckle as if he didn’t want to stir any peace of creation that might have already been happening, “I don’t care for a boy or a girl, both is good. I’ll make a man out of anything, really.”

“Well, I don’t know how the following years will unfold but I can tell you this,” your tone and mischievous twinkle in eye caught his attention almost immediately in between the kisses, halting abruptly any movement.

“Oh?” he hummed intrigued, his lips vibrating gently just above your navel, creating a pleasant shiver running across your body.

“I’m going to tell you, what is going to happen now. One by one, yes?” Lyonel nodded silently, dragging lazily his fingers across your thigh, “I want you to fuck me properly, no more hands, no more bratty mouth of yours.”

“I thought you liked them,” his smile was devilishly troublesome as he curled his moustache, still damped with your arousal and spent.

“Hush now, husband, I’m not quite done,” you scoffed him much to his growing enjoyment, “You are going to fuck me slow and deep. Deep enough for me to feel you in my stomach, yes?”

“You like to order around today, my queen.”

“And you are exceptionally good at following,” the necklaces proved themselves to be a good enough leash to bring him closer, nudging his nose with yours, “If you want to give me your babe, you’ll nicely fuck it in me, yes?”, breaths quicken at the idea, “More than happy to oblige – oh, shut up and kiss me.”

“As my lady commands,” for a second he toyed with your anticipation, observing how you were breaking into pieces under his gaze, before crushing your lips with his fuelled with unspoken hunger and faint tint of your taste lingering on his skin.

You reached down to his hardening member and gave him much needed attention with gentle strokes, spreading glistening precum, drawing a gruff moan, “There you are,” you purred sweetly, feeling how he tensed and twitched under your touch, his head falling back.

He was getting lost in your sensation, slow and deliberate movement that created a pleasurable edge on which he could spend the whole night. His blown pupils observed intently every mimic change, every slightest whimper leaving your lips as you watched your handiwork and effect it had on him. Oh he knew, he saw how much it aroused you as well, how your hips began to move searching for any kind of release in the emptiness.

Soon. The relish of anticipation dizzied in his head better than any ale or wine he had drank. The prize of your soft and welcoming pussy, inviting and squeezing him relentlessly worked Lyonel up faster than he would like to admit, “If you continue, I’ll come undone like a green boy,” The short laugh you let out meant only trouble for him. The kind of trouble he loved to follow.

“That would be wasteful of us,” the mattress under you whispered silently as you moved, positioning Lyonel’s tip at your heat, slowly hooking your thighs around his hips, “Come to me,” you whispered and he compelled.

Nonchalantly and purposefully rolled his length into you, into the soft and wet core of yours he was fantasying moments ago. In unison you moaned at the sensation, holding one another, embracing the intimacy of it.

“Is this what you wanted?” voice above your earlobe, followed by a kiss sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in the black of his hair, “Seven, yes,” you breathed.

Only then he began to move. Slowly, agonisingly slow for you to feel every inch of him, bullying his way into your heat. Just as you wanted it, deep to the rim, stretching you deliciously, filling you to the point your lungs protested.

Hungry eyes were feasting over your reactions, the soft moans that escaped your mouth accompanied by whispers of his name, the half lidded eyes as you embraced thrusts and each time your lashes fluttered a bit more. The feeling of your hammering heart, pounding through you as he was following your directions.

Shallow, shallow, shallow, shallow, deep

A sweet sting of a building coil in your belly left your pouty lips slightly open just enough to invite a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless. The pace was relentless and unforgiving, destructive in its precision as he was burying himself to the shaft, balls clapping against curve of your ass.

“I thought no hands,” he noticed absence of your palm in his hair, watching it disappear between your bodies, as the other scratched toned muscles of his abdomen.

“Yours, Lyonel. Are you jealous?” you asked innocently, drawing slow circles as he fucked into you.

“A little,” a moan escaped you as he changed the angle, “Give it to me,” he captured your hand and without breaking the eye contact his tongue cleaned it off with an expression of a pleased cat, “You’re divine.”

“You’re obscene,” you would be lying if it didn’t pull another string, if that was even possible.

“Apparently, you enjoy it. I feel how you squeeze me – fuck,” his voice faltered at the sensation of you clenching around his cock.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” you gave him a sultry smile, pulling Lyonel for yet another passionate kiss, “I want to come on your dick. I know you can do this.”

“Oh yes, gods,” your legs tightened around his waist, bringing him closer, leaving no space whatsoever.

“Mhmm… Give me my third orgasm today? Be a good fuck toy?” his moans rang in your ears as your teeth found sensitive flesh at the nape of his neck and bit into it, “Seven hells, you do enjoy that.”

You didn’t need answer, you felt him twitching and dragging out the movements just to bottom you with scandalous sounds of your arousal. You were close, you sensed it for a moment as your hips began to stutter  and welcome his movement with feverish vehemence. A pleasant warmness spread across your limbs, sending waves of shivers through and up to the top of your head.

In a swift move, one of your legs was now resting on his shoulder, palms held above your head sank in soft silk and mattress, pinned down harshly.

“Put your hand around my neck,” you breathed out with anything that was left in you, accommodating to the new position, “Squeeze it… gods, mhmm, don’t you dare to stop,” a delicious pressure around your throat, his lips trailing your jaw nearly sent you over.

But it was his voice, rasped, rugged and completely pussy-drunken confessions he was spilling in your ear as his hands tighten around your flesh, steadying you, grounding in the bed. The litany of filthy prayers that would burn ears of any septa, accompanied by your solemn moans of pleasure, crowning each forceful thrust.

“Take what you need, my doe. I can feel it, I have you,” your eyes were plastered to his visage, no thought behind them whatsoever, just the overwhelming feeling of how good he made you feel, how his cock bullied your cervix with each deep movement, tears slowly building in your waterlines. Your lips slightly agape, fighting for any chance for breathing, “Take it, take all of it. Be a good wife.”

Your loud moan was silenced by his lips, as a toe-curling wave of pleasure rushed through you, sending your eyes back. You arched pressing your body closer to his, as Lyonel firmly fucked you through your peak, prolonging it mercilessly with a self-satisfied grin plastered to his face between grunts of thrill.

“Don’t stop, I like to feel you fuck me after I come,” you begged, eyes still half lidded as you indulged in Lyonel’s penetration, again slower and more intimate in his movements, filling you even more as your muscles relaxed, “– so, so good,” you babbled riding the last remaining feeling of your peak.

“Gods, I love your cock,” he chuckled loudly at your confession, and slowly shifted, sitting up, with your legs held securely against his hips, spread for him to admire.

“I’ve heard that before,” he mumbled incoherently staring intently as you greedily took him, effortlessly swallowing his whole length, “Now, that is something I can watch for all eternity.”

If it was possible for you to blush even more, you would resemble a sun setting down, hearing his words and brothel suiting sounds, surrounding your heavy breathing. As one of his hands slithered down to tease bud of your nipple, the other was surely leaving bruises on your thigh, you felt again a coil building up.

“Gods, you’ll ruin me,” you whined under his hawk-like glare, prying on your sensitivity.

“I only do what you’ve demanded, sweetheart,” Lyonel’s voice taunted mockingly.

“I think you can use that mouth of yours again,” your fingers trailed back his palm around your breast, squeezing it light.

“Is that so? You want me to tell you how good you feel?” you nodded frantically, as he rested your legs on his shoulders, “Oh, you are desperate,” he cooed sweetly with a shade of sarcasm, lowering himself just enough to deepen his thrusts, meeting your hips with punishing pace, “Can you feel it? How well you take me? So wet and warm, so inviting,” slick noises an undeniable confirmation of the spoken words, “so good for me, you’ll be such a good mother. Just let me put a babe in you, let me round you up,” you soaked up every single word he gave you, beaming in them and tightening your slick core, demanding more of his attention with a needy moan, promptly captured by his filthy lips.

“I can already picture it, swell of your belly, full breasts barely held by any dress… Gods be good, you wouldn’t easily get rid of me,” your legs returned around his hips, creating heavenly friction with each move. Your fingers tangled in his greying hair, the other leaving unforgivable marks across his back as Lyonel held you in a secure headlock, leaving needy kisses between his words, “I would knock you up again as you carry my babe… just to feel how you milk me to the last drop… shhh, I know– I have you,” you felt yourself drifting away as your peak was slipping in closer.

“I’m barely holding love, just tell me please, tell me love,” he pleaded, his forehead resting on yours, still allowing you to boss him around. And yet, you found yourself utterly lost of words, managing a slow nod against him, “Speak to me, woman. Do you want it?”

“Yes–,” you whisper faintly, feeling a devastating wave of your fourth orgasm, steadily rushing through your body, as Lyonel with all the intensity he had left in him, pumped into you, painting your walls with his seed, groaning loudly in the crook of your neck, “Take it, take what’s yours.”

He kept urging himself deeper into you, completely buried, listening and sensing how your peak collected all your limbs, head and voice, barely allowing you to let out more than a broken moan.

After a moment all movement stopped and only laboured breaths and smell of your bodies were the only remnants of your coupling. Lyonel’s whole weight atop of you, impeding any movement except for brushing his hair, as his head rested against your chest, imprinting the beads in your and his skin.

“You worn me out, woman,” he mumbled in your breast, leaning in for your touch. You snorted lightly, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, “Gods, your cunt must be carved by the Maiden herself, what? That’s true!” he opposed to your appalled scoff, “Also, I’m waiting for my bounty, my most precious, most outraged wife,” he allowed himself to punctuate each word with feather-like pecks left just under your sternum, impatiently waiting for the reply.

“Here, you can take the third one–, even the fourth,” you spoke as your breath steadied a bit. You unclasped two out of still, too many necklaces you had and put them around Lyonel’s neck, adding to the two he already had. Wearing them as hard earned trophies, “They suit you, you know? My pretty, little thing. Would you like some more?”

You observed, that his skin was tanned as well and the jewellery he was carrying just added something spicy to his usual look. It was not a mystery you liked to observe your husband, taking pride in him, sometimes even gawking especially at the training court but now? Seven help you, because the picture in front of you was just too tempting not to fulfil. If he could relish in your golden apparel, who were you to deny yourself the same sinful thing?

“I would be far from complaining.”

“Really? Would you like to dress up for your lovely wife? All in gold, silver and jewels?” you stretched with a pleased expression, already picturing Lyonel to your please, in nothing more but the finest, the most intricate goldsmith’s bauble, “I feel like we should explore the market morrow morning to find something pretty for my pretty boy,” your eyes lighten up with further pleasantries that flooded your imagination.

“You are looking for a trouble, my sweet angel of a wife,” a hum of content escaped you at his remark, already plotting sweet tortures to torment your man with in the morrow’s evening, if you prove yourself to be patient enough. The thrill of excitement rushed through your body as you smiled.