Fruit Of The Vine

It’s packed with noise and heat and song that leaks out the seams. In the blue wash of night that takes this reeking city, the windows stand square and proud. Gilded in gold. You can hear laughter, strong plucked strings of seductive music. Other, more deeply vocal noises you don’t need to guess at the nature of.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

Your stomach squirms itself in knots. Like the old ones in sailors rope, that hung off the wharf.

You turn on your heel. You pace another length down the street. Slippers cutting a path in the wet dusty dirt. Your seaweed green skirts trail in it. Blue velvet cloak hem now sodden in muck. The light rippling off it. The jewellery on your wrist, crinkles like shells colliding. Twinkling silver.

You don’t know if you can do this. Once that threshold is crossed. There’s no snatching it back. Literally.

A breeze shudders up like a hot cough from from bay. Tar, salt and wood. Fish skin and old sea-logged rope. It sweeps over you. The real true filth of this city cuts through the street, butting up against the polite boudoir imagery this place sells. The streets you crammed through, smelling like rotten meat, piss, ale, and sun baked dirt. The soiled perfume of normal life.

You turn over your shoulder. Cloak falling in your eye. Hair whipped in a curling strand over your hood. Pearl earring swaying at your neck in a heavy cold drop.

You look at the golden mouth of that doorway. The promised land. It opens to let two drunk men stumble in. From here you can see a flash of red and orange. Silks hanging up. Lewd crimson tapestries lining the halls no doubt. Bodies twisted in the fabric in sexual repose. Platters of rich fruit and deep dark cups of wine to ply the customers with.

Scent sneaks out the arched wooden doorway. You can smell it from here. Luxurious incense. Sensual jasmine and warm cedar. The air trickling with it; it is all spice, sweat and heat. You know there holds naked hot flesh, and pure debauched sin behind that door.

You look down at your hands. Bring them up from under your velvet cloak. They’re shaking. The silver band on your ring finger wobbles. Tears shiver under your eyes. Ones you’ve had to choke back for far too long.

You give yourself a breath. You yank that mocking band of silver off your hand and shove it deep in your cloak pocket. No one need know.

You’re done with being frustrated. And angry. So bitterly angry you could cleave heads off shoulders with one blow. Lash the lands like a furious tempest. All waves and decimating tides. You could drown the world with your rage. Like some ancient sea goddess walking out the waves with desolation to hand.

You were through with feeling like a second choice in your own halls. Your halls. Your bed. Your name dragged through the silt to be laughed at. Passed over in favour of younger, perkier girls. All swaying silk dresses, and easy trite smiles.

You were of House Velaryon. Old, rich stock. Fine blue blood in your veins as ancient as foam whipped off the seas. You were a daughter of Driftmark, and its salt-bred tides wrapped your bones.

Your marriage was as cold and loveless as the deep black seabed. It had started off in fondness. You tolerated one another. Bedded when you needed too. Soon, it ran dry. Became about making the motions and nothing else. Worst of all, your womb remained empty. That was when his eye began to wander—

You suffered blow after blow of humiliation. Watching your husband openly flaunt his dalliances. Indiscreet affairs held right under your nose.

Then you’d received word, a mere day ago, a nasty sneer caught out the side of a maids mouth, that one of your husbands mistresses, had fallen with child.

That is what had driven you here. The grain of sand that tipped the scales.

You’d heard tale this pleasure house before you, was the finest there was in all of Westeros. All types of variety, and flesh of every kind on offer.

Your husband had been the one to break your wedding vows.

Now, you intend to finish the job and shatter them to dust.

Scatter the ashes in the wind and laugh as it slips through your fingers like white sand.

You march on up to that door. You take the worn iron handle, and you twist it and push inside. Heat rushes to meet you.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

The walls inside pulse red like spilled blood. Cut veins. Heavy and close. The ceilings shiver with hung silks and bulging arcs of fabric. Iron lanterns frame golden light in squares. Throwing dozy red pools over your skin, when you push your hood back.

Men and women revel around you. Romping. Naked, some dressed, some merely rumpled. Slumped on low plump chaises, bolster cushions stuffed and spilling over the tiled floor. Some are pleasuring their guests. Some are being pleasured right in the open.

Candles are crammed on every surface. Flicking upward light like dragon tongues. The sides of the room is lined to with people, and antiques from far flung corners of the lands. Frescoes of naked men and women frolic in chalky paint across the dim walls. Red grapes and cut pomegranates are piled in bowls like molehills, off a low placed table. Glistening like rubies.

You see men half undressed, aswell as women. Bodies glisten with chains and jewels. Looped down manly naked shoulder blades. Coral red beads or orange silk shawls draped over bared breasts. Laughter and jasmine clots the air, along with music threading its notes from somewhere hidden.

Everywhere you look; the choice is endless. Dark haired man. Petite white haired woman with skin so beautifully dark it drank the light. Tall pale redhead. Paler than moon. Strong tan thighs. Arms bulging with hair and muscle. Curvy hips. You can scarce breathe with the sensuality of it all.

One woman breaks from her silk draped doorway. Cocks a hip. Flaunts herself in your path as easy as a summer breeze.

She’s barefoot. Ankles ringed in gold bangles. Her hair raven black, down to her waist. Eyes were so green it was striking. She’s naked with a mulberry brocade robe lapping open at her sides. Her nipples flash in the light. Perked and pierced with gold.

She sizes you up with a flick of her lashes. Goblet in one hand. Tilting her head cool and easy. Taking the measure of your noble posture and regal clothes.

“May I help you, precious?” She purrs. Accent landing somewhere between Tyrosh and Myr.

You look at her. Wet your lips. She looks like a rippling pantheress made flesh. It made you seize up.

“I’m looking for- someone.”

“We have many someone’s here.” She tells you plain. Eyes narrowing to see if you were worthy of her time.

“I need uh… A man.”

She smiles down at you. Eyes dipping low. Trying to make you out under all that swathing velvet. Pretty. Veiled. Posture stiff. Noble blood.

“Any particular sort?”

She sweeps her arm across the room. “We have big, slim, short, tall. Well-hung. Average. Pretty men. Handsome men. I have some who want bruises and punishment. And some who’ll beg and whine for your cunt and your pleasure. Name your price and your type. Precious.”

You reach in your cloak. Withdraw a sizeable pouch. The stags within clink. Her grin glistens with red wine and hunger.

“No expense spared.” You state. Hopeful.

She looks voracious.

“Hmm for that? You get my top boys. I have someone very good. A little older. But very wild. Dark haired devil. He’s one of my best. Will tongue fuck you to tears, and pound you like a bull til dawn.”

“I just want someone…” the words turn to sand in your tongue. You swallow and it clicks down your throat.

“I want kind. Someone soft. Who’ll treat me gently. Not see me as something to use up, and discard.”

Saying it hurt more than you thought. Tears threaten your eyes again.

Her grin curls on one side. “I understand. Precious. Do you care about his… size?” She arched a brow.

You shrug modestly. Clinging your hands together. “I suppose not.”

She chuckles. It’s warm as drizzled honey.

“Come. I have just the man for you.”

The room she leads you too is empty. But the evidence of whose been before you makes you sweat under your dress. Rumpled bed. Perfume in the air like a living ghost.

“Wait here. Precious. My Duncan will be with you shortly. I’m sure you’ll enjoy him.” She closes the door with her laugh sliding in the gap. Your coin in her hand.

You stand at the threshold. Moving in slow like you’d be told off for lingering.

This room was bigger that that red den downstairs. The walls no less oppressive. Slaked in russets and oranges. A palatial bed takes up the centre of the room. Purple sheer curtains hide the rumpled, crushed blankets. Copper silk bolsters and blue linens. Feather mattress no doubt.

Wine and more fresh fruit lay to one side. A carafe of red. A golden platter of honey drenched, sticky figs lay in a circle. The house pulses sound around you. Moans of all kinds bat at the doors. The creak of a bed repeatedly hitting a wall.

You spy the window. Covered with a misty blue curtain and a patterned wood shutter. Pinpricks of light burst across the cloth like freckles. You draw it aside. Feel the cool night air sighing in, brushing along your skin like a lover-

“My lady.” Comes a honeyed dulcet from behind you. Accent soft at the edges like it’s been sanded round.

You spin. Caught. A gasp leaving your lips. And when you see the man filling the doorway; your mouth stays hung open like a sea cave.

He wasn’t just man. He was entirely too much, man.

He was four heads taller than you at the least. Wide shoulders like a sturdy Ox. all muscle and rippling with power. But softened in places. A giving pouch of a stomach. Healthy cover of large pecs. Thighs that look as solid as ancient tree trunks in the godswood.

He’s wearing a navy robe. Thin gauze. His pale skin shimmers under the chiffon cloth. He’s recently bathed. Oil seeps a rich, thick scent off him. Verdant vertiver and cedar.

His body was like carved marble, but his face is where you get stuck.

He even looks kind.

Eyes blue as the narrow sea from your bedroom window. A noble jaw. Fine blade of a nose. Hair worn long to his shoulders. Copper-blond in the dim light. A smile that was rugged and warm, white teeth imperfect and a little crooked. But it added to his rough hewn charm.

His smile quirks at the corner with catching you off-guard. “Apologies. Didn’t want to startle you.”

You fidget with your hands. “Forgive me. I’m not usually one for being skittish, but I’m not used to-“

You turn to the room. Making a broad gesture to that truly, huge slab of a bed. Incense trails a sickly smoky path up into the corner of the ceiling. Candle flames snap on every surface. Moans skate across the walls from other rooms. Some high and violent shouts. Others more grunting and low.

You suddenly note how many large mirrors frame the walls. Inbetween the blue tapestries of writhing bodies and naked figures. It makes those rope knots in your stomach tug again. This entire place is made to sell and shout about sex. In a way you’ve been taught was not proper.

He smiles. A breathy laugh. He finishes your words for you.

“But you don’t frequent whore houses very often. That’s alright.” He soothes.

Coming in properly. Gently shutting the door behind him. Blocking out everything else. Tapering your time and attention down to him.

“I may be big, but I promise you I’m not a brute. Why don’t we have some wine. My lady- if you’d like.” He urges. Gentle as if he was calming a wild, thrashing horse.

“Very much. Yes. Please.” You swallow. Noticing your dry mouth and throat.

You flicker a weak smile his way. Wanting to curse yourself for how foolish you’re appearing.

You watch him move to the side. The low table where the fruit is. A wall of his fragrance smacks you as he moves past. Woodsy and fresh green. Like new sapling oak trees.

He pours you both a cup of wine. The goblets cold to the touch. Carved of intricate metal. A soft silence descends as you both sip. Flood sweet, heady red on your tongues.

He seats himself on the bed. You remain stood. He casually lets his eyes find you. Still garbed up like you were expecting to catch a chill.

“It’s warm in here. You can loosen your cloak if you like. No rush though if you’re not ready. Take all the time with me you need.”

“Don’t imagine your mistress would be too pleased with me taking up your whole night.”

You deprecate yourself. Looking to the expensive rugs on the floor cause you can’t believe how soft his eyes are.

“You paid good coin for me. I’ll not see you dissatisfied. She wouldn’t care for that either. Our reputations here make her a rich, powerful woman. That relys on keeping our clients happy and safe. Unless they pay to feel otherwise.”

You look over at him. He’s so sincere. Blue eyes blazing at you.

You were rather warm. You’re sure for a trade that required naked skin, the rooms had to be kept a decent temperature.

You slip your fingers for the pearl clasp of your cloak. Let it fall from your shoulders. Shimmering velvet. Like waves falling down your body.

His eyes take you in. Slowly. Without making you feel less. Or dissected.

He sees more of the shape of your delightful figure under the plain cascade of silk. The bell sleeves were long and framed your slender arms and hands. It hugged your waist and flared at your hips.

The neckline just kissed your shoulders. The way mist draped the sea on cold mornings. There’s no overdone embroidery. No fripperies or fuss. Just silver at your wrists, throat, and fingers. A lariat necklace wedged with sapphires draped down your throat. Curls of patterns that seem like shells on the metal. More pearls clasped around the design. Draping off your small hands too.

You look like some soft, sacred thing, dredged with care out of the sea. Wrapped in clinging weeds and sand. Like a salt crusted pearl. A goddess reborn. A precious treasure tucked inside a shell. Something special.

You retake your goblet. Another inch bared. Slow progress.

“I’m not here to shame you into doing something if you’re scared. If you’ve changed your mind, you’ll have your coin back. Every one. And I’ll walk you to the door myself. My lady. No harm in it.”

You open your mouth. But no sound comes out.

An honest whore who won’t take your coin regardless- how refreshing.

The oddest feeling squirms within you. Unsettled and sharp. Something your tide-worthy bones can’t meld well with. Defeat.

You answer him in kind. You stand your wine down. Wet your dry lips. You cross to stand before him. Hands fussing with your pearl rings. “Can I be honest?”

“I encourage it. Yes.” He nods. Sweet as sugar, and so calming.

“It’s a betrayal that has led me to your door tonight. A humiliating hurt so deep I scarce know what to do with it. Still don’t. But all I know is, I am so sick and tired of being frustrated, and alone and feeling second choice. I wanted someone to look at me. And see someone worth looking at. Not to be glanced over.”

The words sting as they leave your tongue. Your courage torn to strips. It hits deep in your chest like an arrowhead. The truth. You are of no consequence. You are unloved.

You don’t want to be alone. Not again. Not tonight.

A sombre expression takes his face as he sips the wine.

“Your husband?” He checks when he lowers his cup. Voice dipping into a darker tone.

Your heart knocks into your ribs. “How did you-“

“Sweet thing. I’ve been in this business a long time. I know a lot more than you’d think. You’d be shocked how many wives we get come in here.”

“Don’t know whether to find that reassuring or awful.” You concede.

“I understand your reticence. You never thought you’d find yourself seeking a whore for the night.”

“I’m coming to learn that life deals us all sorts of unpleasant hands at times. I’m trying to make peace with that.” You tell him. “It’s not going very well.” You jape. Voice watery.

“Gods. Listen to me-“ you curse yourself. Hand pressing to your brow. “I pay for your services, and end up boring you to tears.”

Is it any wonder you’re alone. You soft, sea foam fool.

“I’m not bored.” He assures. Eyes melting into yours.

“Then that either makes you the kindest soul alive. Or an incredibly good liar.”

“I don’t lie.” He tilts his head at you. “Lying is a filthy sin.”

You smile. Urge yourself to walk over. Linger closer to him.

“Devout are you?” You check. Arms crossed over your belly.

“I think you’ll find lots of cries for gods to be found within these walls.” He flirts.

You start to smile. “I imagine so. The size of you…”

You let your eyes fall for the first time at his lap. Piles of fabric bunched there. Wrinkled blue gauzy cloth that did nothing to hide the sheer weight of the cock that rests against his thigh. He’s big everywhere.

“Don’t have to be shy. My lady. I can disrobe for you. All you need do is say the word.”

That snaps something in you. Breaks the brittle fraying rope of your patience. You lean over and cup one side of that handsome, strong face.

Then you sway down and slant your lips over his.

The kiss is hurried. Pushed on him. Yet he melts to it. Smile tracing yours.

When you pull away, startled by your own brazenness. Breathing against his lips. Dry and hot. He tastes like deep red wine. “Forgive me- I didn’t ask if you were allowed to uh, kiss.”

He smiles. Huge hand cupping your face. Strokes your hair out the way of your cheek. “You’re allowed to do whatever you like with me-“

“That’s dangerous.” You smile gently. He feel like hes won something seeing that.

“Yes it is.” He smiles back like sin. “May I touch you properly? Let me taste those pretty lips again.”

You’re dumbstruck. You nod.

His hand lands soft on your waist. Respectfully. Covers the whole dip of it. Feeling along the fine silk of your dress. The flare of hip. The skimming arch of a rib.

He rises slowly from the bed. Stands his wine down. Your hands splay to his chest. Gauzy chiffon and heat of him blossoming under your touch. Gold gems inlaid with blue. Glittering and laying over the hollow at the base of his throat. Chains so fine and dainty it looked like liquid gold poured over his pale skin.

One hand stays to your waist. The other dances soft patterns on the nape of your neck. Your curling hair cupped to his palm. He has to bend down to kiss you- but he finds the reward to be well worth the sacrifice in height.

“I never asked your name.” You whisper before his kiss landed. Mortified that the lightning strike of lust in seeing him has stripped you of all your good courtesy and sense.

“It’s Duncan. Sweetness.” He offers. Thumb swiping over the back of your neck.

“Duncan.” You whisper. Treating his name like prayer. Maybe he’ll make a devout of you too.

His mouth softly finds yours again. Puts his lips on yours so gently, it makes you sigh. He wraps you up in his big arms. Makes you see stars. Your tongue feels drunk and clumsy, falling against his.

Your heart sighs against your ribs. This is what being held and cherished truly felt like. To be wrapped in the arms of a lover, who treated you like a man who’d seen shore after years at sea. Someone who saw you. And didn’t dare look away-

The kiss turns intense. Teeth and passion. You let yourself arch to his arms. They band around you. You’ve never felt safer.

He held you the way the tide did when you swam in High Tide’s beaches as a child. Suspended and utterly caught. Nothing had ever held you as sweetly as this.

His arm is around your back. A solid band of muscle. You feel the heat of him even though your simple silk.

“Would you undo my laces.” You ask against his spit wet mouth. Hot warm lips searching for you when you pull back.

“Turn around.” He answers. Softer than sand.

You spin to him. You trust him. His hands graze your hips. Seeking upwards. Finding the small laces that ran down your neck. He deftly weaves them free. Gets you down to your stays and shift. The laces on your whalebone stays he also undoes. At your bidding.

His hands pause on the straps of your shift clasped off your shoulders when you’re down to that final layer. Breath coming fanned hot over your ear. “May I, my lady?”

“Yes.” You breathe. It hitched when you feel the linen open, falling down to your hips. He pushes it free. Big hot hands falling gently on your waist when he was done.

You moan when you feel his lips descend for your shoulder. Eyes closing and mouth open like you’re praying when he kisses the slender crook from neck to shoulder bone.

“I wish to look at you. Sweetness. Turn for me.”

You work up the bravery to spin back and stand before him. In naught but your skin and your jewels. The pearls and gems rest at your sternum. Hanging between your breasts.

Your hair he takes the careful time to shift and arrange off your shoulders, spilling it down your back. Looking at your eyes rather than your pebbled nipples, or what lay between your legs.

“You’re beautiful.” He hushes. Softly the words bloom between you. You could curl sated around those words forever from his gentle mouth.

You can’t recall the last time someone called you that.

You tuck your fingers at his chest. Just under the neckline of his own gown. He’s gazing at you with such heat in those eyes know you know what blue flame feels like. It’s jarring.

He smiles like he’s been waiting for you to ask this of him. Those big fingers undo the flimsy tie slung low about his waist. He shrugs the material off and down his shoulders. Drops it to the floor at his heels. The sheer enormity of those shoulders and that chest comes free.

He must have oiled from a bath. Because the sheer amount of heat and perfume rising from his skin makes you near dizzy.

You look at his muscular chest. Wide as a wall. Packed with muscle and a healthy layer of weight. Your fingertips cross down over his pectoral to his nipple. The wide flat disc a pale pink in the light. Freckles and dusky copper hair catches the light in a fine dusting. He sighs with delight at your hands on him.

“You are beautiful too. Not worth the insulting title of a whore. Duncan.” You tell him.

When your eyes sink to his ribs. His belly. And then below, your mouth really does drop. Something that could shame a horse hangs between his legs. A thick column of a cock. Ruddy and flushed. Resting against huge thighs.

No doubt about it. He was much larger than your husband. In a way that made your throat dry and your cunt clench.

“Flattery gets you all sorts of places with me.” He grins. Unashamed. Yet the slightest tinge of a blush takes his cheeks.

How sweet that is, a man who sins and fucks for a living. And he preens and blushes at your kind words. Capturing you in his hold. Palms skimming down your back. Over your hips to grab your ass.

“Come to the bed.” He poses it as a question. Not a certainty. “If you’re ready-“

You take the hand he offers. He walks you to it. Let’s you place yourself down on the covers. Where you sit, blooms up the scent of cotton. Warmed by sun and kissed with the oaky scent of his skin and sweat.

“It’s been some time. I-“ You do try and get the words out but they lodge in your neck like pebbles. “We haven’t. I haven’t been bedded, in some, many, months.”

He crouches before you. Brushes his fingers to your jaw. Tilts it up to make you look at him. Fingers mapping your skin like he was touching something sacred in a Sept.

He looked almost pained for you. Brows dipping in the middle in a frown. “None of that. I’m not taking you yet. We’ve got other things to do first.”

Your face is a pretty, confused picture. Your hand comes to circle at his huge, thick wrist. Eyes gleaming in the candle light like coins.

“First off. You’re going to cum on my tongue. Sweetness.” He promises like it’s nothing. “Because I never take a woman until I’ve make her cum at least once. That is my only rule.”

It tips your stomach upside down and inside out to hear the words spoken so plainly. “Oh.”

“Only if it pleases. My lady.” He soothes. Happily. “Lay on your back for me.”

You kiss him again. Hands digging fingers in his neck. Lips joined again. He tips you back. Hand spread huge on your ribs. Your spine meets the soft cottons and silks rumpled below you. All you can focus on is the blissful, warm tenderness of his mouth.

Your arms come up to cross at his neck. Resting at his shoulders. His body is as massive and as heavy as he appears. But he’s keeping his weight off you. Kissing your lips numb with delicate skill. Tongue tangled with your own.

His hand moves - slow as honey. Melts across your stomach. Down your navel. Taking great care to pet through the thatch of curls at your cunt.

You breathe shakily into his lips when his fingertips drape a little lower. Catching the wetness of your pussy.

“Can you spread your thighs- I’ll need the room.” He urges.

You do as he says. Watching as he lowers his mouth to your neck again. To suck wet spots under your ear that turn into wet shapes. He trails his nose over your skin.

“You smell divine.” He mumbles. “Heavenly. Like the sea has worked its way into your skin.”

It made him think of a windswept shore. Dune grass ruffled in the breeze. Air alive with the scent of salt, and a mineral rich ocean, abutted with rugged cliffs.

You close your eyes and let yourself fully get lost in the sensation of his mouth closing over your nipple. The warm strike of his tongue that makes your hips twitch and your body arch to him.

He lavishes attention on your breasts. Until they feel aching. Tumbling into his mouth and every suck undoes more of your reticence. By the time he makes it to your belly. Nose grazing your stomach. Your fingers are twisted deep in that copper hair.

Your legs lay wide and open for him. His hands frame your thighs. Nipples aching and wet exposed to the smoky jasmine air.

“Anyone ever eaten your cunt before, sweetness?” He seeks.

You hold his gaze. “No.” You feel shame wash your cheeks and chest.

“Then I’m glad to be your first. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve the honour of such a perfect cunt as this.” He tilts his head looking down as two fingertips push through the wetness that seeps from you.

His fingers circle your clit. A little swirl that pressed back into your body. It made you groan. Sudden and sharp- eyes threatening to roll back.

“You’ve touched yourself I take it?”

“Sometimes.” You tell.

Because you had. On nights when your cold empty bed mocked you. When that ache cradled between your hip bones started to drive you mad. When you needed something stronger than wine to take the edge off. Then. You did sink your fingers between your legs and try to place yourself elsewhere.

Pain was more your lot than pleasure. When you had to hear the offending grunts and wet slaps of your husband roughly using one of the maids, out in the shadowed alcoves when he thought you were long abed. Her squawks twinned with his hog-like sounds. Then his footsteps when he walks right past your door groaning in satisfaction. Belt buckle jangling.

The silence afterwards made a fool of you. The slam of his bedchamber door. You fell asleep tear stained and empty more often than you ever did wet and truly sated.

“Let me get rid of those pesky fears. Sweetness. I can’t wait to bury my tongue in you any longer.”

He lays his mouth to your cunt. Broad, long strokes with the flat of his tongue to spread you open. Delves his tongue right inside you as you cry above him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He gets his face right into your pussy. Everything gets involved. Chin. Lips. Cheeks. No place untouched.

You can’t help it. You arch. You whine his name so loud you’re sure it makes it though the walls. Sweat builds on your brow and at the dip of your lower back. All you can feel is his wet mouth as he slurps. You near nothing but the laps and sucks as he makes vivid, fierce love to your cunt with his tongue.

You rut your hips. Unintentionally sliding yourself across his lips. He lets you. He knows you need to find your rhythm. Smiles when he sees how you’re throwing your head back. Hand a vice in his long soft hair already. Strands viced like copper wheat in your fingers.

“Oh, Duncan-“ You sigh. When his lips close in a suck over your clit, you lose your mind. Eyes flick back in your skull. Body limp. He directs your hips with his hands. Takes them both and smears his mouth to you again and again. Groaning in satisfaction.

He lashes his tongue. He swirls. He suckles and licks. A heady pulse begins to push up in your lower stomach. Bliss unfurls through you in incredible waves. Each one batters through and leaves you stunned. One hand slides up your body and tests with holding one of your breasts as he feasts down below. You whimper with the sensation. He catches your nipple with clever swipe of his tongue.

He presses one thigh to the bed. Baring you open wider as the pleasure reaches such an intense peak you hardly know what to do. You want to shuffle away because it’s too much. The threatening edge of it is so great. You feel it will swallow you whole - just like he is.

The pleasure crests and breaks. You cum with his tongue struck deep in you, his nose pressing your clit. Watching up your body as you writhed. Slick with sweat. Your release throbbing, fluttering around the push of his tongue as you ascend from the high of your orgasm.

You pant hard to catch your breath. Tits swelling and falling on your heaving chest. Eyes glazed. Mouth loose and open. His name dried on your tongue in bliss.

He licks his lips. Takes his face out from your pussy. Soothingly drags a thumb over one hipbone. “You looked like you needed that.” He decided cleverly.

You can scarce unstick your tongue from your mouth to answer. “I- gods.”

“Don’t be sinning on me now.” He teases. Pressing an indulgent kiss to your stomach. Hovering over you still.

You look up. Taking in his state. He looks composed and sweetly serene. Even with your wetness shining well over his mouth and cheeks. When you drop your eyes, you see the huge state of him. Leaking and hard. Flushed bright red at the head. Clear fluid sliding down in trails to his heavy sac.

You swallow. “Will you- fuck me?”

“I’ve an idea.” He insists.

He climbs back and sits up on the edge of bed. Encourages you to climb in his lap. His cock looks insultingly big thrusted up straight and true from his groin.

He takes your hand and moves you to be closer. Gets your waist ringed in his big hands. Settles you over him. You whine when his cock brushes your pussy. You answer with a needy clench. Knowing exactly where you next need him.

He cups under your jaw. Thumb along your jawline. Sweat wicking along his skin and yours. Melting together. Your breasts pushed to his chest.

“Will you have me like this? Some prefer to be on their hands and knees. Safer not to look. Easier to take when you can’t fret over how big I am.”

“Like this. Please-“ your hands are on his cheeks. In his hair.

You can’t bear to have him anywhere but right here with you. The closeness enough to intoxicate. His scent. His sweat. The sear of his hot skin. Your arms wind around his neck. Thighs spread wide enough to hurt, over his.

“We go at this slowly.” He tells. “I don’t want to hurt you. You keep eyes on me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Grabbing his heavy cock at the base. He gets you placed over it. Up on your knees. Stabbing kneecaps into the soft sheets.

“There you go, sweetness.” He breathes. Watching your mouth drop open.

He breaches you slowly as promised. Your cunt splitting over the thick girth. He lowers you gently. Hands vicing your. Elbows braced on his sweaty shoulders. His hands all over you.

He breathes, open mouthed at the feel of your clamping down on him. Made his eyes flutter. Taking in the pretty sight of you in his lap, pussy dripping like heaven down his cock. Ass meeting the muscled columns of his thighs. He feels how tensed you are.

“Easy.” He slides his mouth to yours. Takes your mind completely with a kiss that stuns. Sinks you lower and lower down on him.

You cry out when you finally settle fully onto him. Cunt pulsing so tight it makes him choke. Gods, you were tight. Warm and grabbing him tight like wet silk. He knows it can be a lot after a while without this kind of penetration.

You push your forehead to his. Moaning into his lips when his cockhead curves a spot inside that made you come alive. More alive than you had been in months. You buck in his hold. He’s there to keep you steady.

“There it is. My sweet. That’s the spot I’m going to fuck. It’s gonna make you cry out for me. Again and again.” He promises.

“So good. Fuck. So much-“ you mumble. Panting. Love drunk against his lips. Your hips ache from the strain already. But you’d sooner die than pull off him.

He scoops his fingers under your ass. Grabs you and guides the pace. Drops and lifts you off his cock in a pattern that gets you gasping. Clit grinding on the downstroke against the wiry bush of curls at the base of him. He likes how he can feel you pulse over him.

You raise up a little on your knees. Desperate to keep the pace he’s set. Breasts starting to bounce. Hands digging for his shoulders. Nails punched with his sweat.

The jewels at his throat shimmer and wink at you. He lowers loses his mouth in your bouncing tits. Licks the sweat and salt of the sea off you. You whine. Pitchy and high.

Face screwed up in sheer pleasure. Mouth dropped wide. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Suck at your own tongue and swallow a moan. Eat it off you.

You hum his name. Desperately cupping his face. Right there in the moment with him. Pleasure biting at your heels. Chasing and rocking the same obliterating goal. Your teeth meet messily in the fierce kiss.

His hips starts to push to yours. Riding together.

“Cum for me sweetness. Let go. Take what he never gives you. Take every bit and know you deserve it. Gorgeous girl.” He soothes.

Kissing his way to your ear. Chin lost in your neck. Hand up your back as you wrap yourselves in the other like a warm cloak.

Your eyes tremble with tears. “Duncan.” The sheer weight of the admission sinking into your skin. You tremble in his hold like a leaf.

“I’m right here.” He whispers. Lips searching for yours. Big hand cupping the back of your neck. Hair sticking to his sweaty palm. “Focus on me. Let it all melt away.” He urges.

He takes the lead to get you there. Drills his hips up into you with savage rhythm to punch his cock to you again and again. A bruising pace. Yet, it’s exactly what you need. What you’ve needed for months. He fucks the moans right out your mouth and into his.

Your whines climb higher and higher. Voice raw and hoarse. His name entwined with the gods. Nails in his scalp. Head tipped back to the heavens.

He fucks you hard and fast enough to summon a shout from your mouth. The enormity of the feelings moving through you is terrifying. It starts in your lower back. Sweeps for your calves. Up your thighs. Bursts open in your stomach and takes the rest of you sweeping with it. You shake. You cry. You can’t believe how right it feels.

You sag to his body. Let him use you however he needs. Clutching on the for the ride as the shocks and crests bleed into perfect bliss. Shattering on the rocks like a wave. Dispersing to the sea again when it’s done.

Your hand sinks to the damp hair at the back of his neck. Fingers clutching. He spills to you. Deep and hard with his hips jerking and twitching to your own.

You feel wickedly delighted by feeling the hot, steady splash of him inside you. It feels good. Like you’ve rectified a wrong gone long unpunished. The realisation of it makes a fierce thrum of passion plough through your chest.

He pants and cradles you to his lap. Fingers dimpling into your ass. Sweat beading his brow as you writhe and feed each other the high with the last little shocks of climax. Rutting and rubbing hot, fevered skin.

You delight in seeing a blush climbing its way uo his neck and chest. Settling at the base of that gold necklace of his. Your release slicks you together where your joined. You drip even more now.

You sigh for him. High and airy. Happy.

“You are divine.” You rasp. You feel like you near bit your tongue in half when you came.

He breathes a satisfied smile. Cheeks red hot. Contrasting to his gold red hair. “As are you.”

He traps you into a lippy, slow kiss. Tasting of the musk of you, wine and sweat. “That husband of yours is a fucking fool. Sweetness.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You agree entirely. Instead, drag your fingers down the thatch of slight hair at his chest. Golden fuzz in the light. His sweat sinks into your fingertips.

The haze slips away. Like a sea breeze twisting through your fingers. You have to let it pass- clammy coolness takes your skin. Now you must redress, and leave his embrace.

He makes a face as you pull back from his chest. Take your hands off him. Shift in his lap. Softening cock feeling big inside you still.

“You probably have a whole queue of other clients to see. I should go-“ you decide softly.

“You don’t get to leave that easy. Stay a minute. Come back to yourself. Have some more wine and then find your clothes. Besides. I have some tea for you to take. To ensure no, accidents occur.” He strokes his thumb across your chin.

His huge paw of a hand comes up to stroke the back of your sweat-licked hair. He leans to presses a warm kiss to your brow. Gently helps you manoeuvre off him, on legs that shake and knock like a newborn fawn.

He sets you back on the covers. Twists to find his robe. Ties it loosely around his body again. But it honestly, it is no good. Now you know how delicious that body is, your eyes roam every inch as he crosses to the far side.

Past the huge copper bathing tub that could seat five. You think you can guess as to why. He could comfortably host an orgy in these rooms. The bed could sleep ten if needed. You watch his wide back, he pours something into a wooden cup. It steams and swirls.

You’re clutching the bedsheets to your cooling skin when he comes back. Raking your fingers through all the knots in your wild hair.

He passes you the cup. “Drink all of it. And another pouch for you to take home, to have tomorrow. Just to be sure.” He winks at you.

You sip the tea. It’s almost minty and sharply herbal. Not unpleasant. But you’d rather have more wine. He knows. Smiles as he passes you your cup of wine to wash it down with when you’re done. A better taste left on your tongue.

He cleans you when you rise from the bed. On one knee with a warm wet cloth that smelt like roses. Taking the salty leak of his spend from between your legs. Naughtily sinks his face in and kisses your curly mound when he’s done. Looking up at you with a wide smile when you gasp.

He rises to full height. Helps you pull on your clothes with plenty of kisses dropped on your naked skin. Some to make you squirm. Others make you moan. All of his attentiveness makes you smile.

Moneys worth and then some. He was worth his weight in gold.

You find a purpling bruise on the crook of his neck. Vicious purple. Marked with teeth. “I apologise.” You frown as you find it. “I didn’t realise I’d been so rough with you.”

It makes him smirk. “No. No. Sweetness. That wasn’t you. Don’t worry. That was-

He’s just helping loop your dress up over your hips, when the door swings open with a heady whine. It makes you jump. Shying away. The illusion of the peaceful utopia you’d built together, exposed.

It makes Duncan frown. Draws you into his arms. Keeps you out of sight of the door. With the shield of his own body. His jaw grits. He’s ready to snap in anger at whoever it was. “Close the door won’t you. For fucks sake-“

You brave a glimpse over your shoulder. Spy the man whose filling the doorway like he could woo the wooden frame it’s in.

From the looks of him; you believe every inch of that.

“Apologies lover. Figured you’d be finished by now. Heard you had a sweet morsel in here.” Comes the low drawl of a voice, that only knows how to seduce.

Deep and playful. The way a panthers tail curls when it walks. Easy seductive grace. That’s what this dark man made you think of;

He’s shorter than Duncan - but that’s not a surprise. There’s not many men that could match his height. But he’s tall and still broad enough to swoon at.

His skin is gloriously tanned. Hair a dark cloud of raven-silver on his head. You would say halo, but the devilish nature of his smile entirely belied any saintly imagery.

There are big orange gems laid in gold, circling over his neck. And naked chest. Pearls too. Draped across his shoulders like he’s bathed in the stars. He’s covered in jewels and gold, that click and rock when he moves. Gold thick cuffs on his wrists. Bangles. Earrings dangle to his shoulders. One a fat purple gem shaped like a teardrop. The other is a pearl the size of an olive.

Hoops punched through the tops of his ears. More cuffed around his bulging upper arms. His fingers drip in rings too. Every thick one adorned. Gems and jewels thrown across every inch of his skin, like he’s a treasure in his own right.

Your mouth dried out when you see he also has gold rings forming little circles at his nipples. A chain webs across and over his shoulders joining them together. It jangles when he moved.

He’s holding a wine glass down by his thigh. Near empty. His chest hair is matted and grazed with sweat. Scratches are raked over his shoulders. Punctured in his sides. He looks like he’s been thoroughly, viciously mauled, and laughed right through every second.

A golden cloth, like the heart of the sun, similar in thin nature to dunks gown, is tied around his hipbones. Dipping scandalously low. A pelt of dark hair carpets his chest. Bolted with silver and ink. That same colouring leads in a happy trail down his belly below where the fabric ends.

He has red scratches scored on his chest. Neck covered in mouth shaped bruises like red and black love hearts on his skin.

His eyes are dark, glittering. Black as beetles wings. And they settle on the sight of you circled in Duncan’s arms, with predatory intensity. His grin slopes wider across those kiss-bruised lips.

“My, my. Aren’t you a delectable one.” He leers.

Smoothly invites himself in and prowls to where you’re stood. Smoothing your dress over your shoulders again. Even clothed, his grin makes you feel utterly naked.

You come to realise, this man is all mouth. He runs loudly. As loudly as the rest of him, which is screaming with the weight of shiny jewels and gold.

“Usually I don’t much care who takes up their time with my husband. But I’m sorry to have missed you.”

That word catches you upside the head like an arrow. Husband.

“Husband?” You twist in Duncan’s arms. Peering up at him. Eyes wide.

Duncan nods. Smiling down at you. “You didn’t give me that bruise. Sweetness. That was this one-“ he jerks his head to the other man.

“As you can see, he’s got quite a mouth on him.”

He eyes over at the other man with daggers. “Do you have to be so coarse? Lyonel? Some days I swear. You behave like the arse end of a mule.”

The man blows Duncan a kiss. Leans up and seals the deal. Pecks a lippy kiss on the side of his face. Enough to make him wash pink with a blush.

“Your mule. Lover. But hung like a fucking stallion might I add.” He sticks his tongue though his teeth and grins. Catches your eye.

Duncan’s huge hands slip your cloak back up your shoulders. Fastens the pearl clasp together. He brushed a hand lovingly over the back of your hair.

“See you to the door, sweetness?” Duncan asks.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll be fine.” You insist.

Lyonel scans you from head to toe. Oh yes. Your cheeks blazing with the glimmer of sweat. Glistening with joy, like a woman whose been properly, thoroughly, pounded.

Lyonel catches your hand before you can slink away. Reels you in with it. Folds your cloak out his path. Leans down and kisses your knuckles. Looks deep into your eyes with a spine-melting grin.

“Look at you. Gods. You’re fucking delectable. Ask for me next time. Won’t you?”

You don’t know how to look away. He’s hypnotising.

You swallow. Nervous. Withering under his intense gaze. “What makes you think I’m coming back?” You fluster.

He chuckles. Grin a bright flash. It’s the most dark and delicious sound you’ve ever heard.

“Trust me. Not many like my Duncan. Pet. You’ll be back.” He winks.

Forgive the random tags but I’m Tagging some phenomenal akotsk babes whose fics gave me life. Let me know if you want on/off the list. I’m new to AKOTSK so forgive my presumptions @the-darklings @jintaka-hane @mynameistocool @lovebugism @maekarsmistress @pearlessance @noxiiousstrawberriies @ingystark @oakleafing @marsrambles @just-some-random-blogger @vhagars-dementia @escapic-mezzanine @tearsweetenedtea @nerdyinfluencertastemaker @adumbgirlinloove @moonlitmaester @silens-oro @feral4youu @whatislovevavy @happinessisaloadedgun @faelinda @crayonbug @celestrys @sallymaywritings @captainfern @theprophaecy @multyfangirl @angstybadger @asterionex @liliac-dreamer

The groan he heard had his eyes straining to adjust, he could see an extra figure in your bed and his heart pounded. What was happening-

“shut the fucking door.” Aerion’s tone, unmistakably, cut through the silent moment.

Daeron complied instantly forhead pressing against the heavy oak door when he latched it closed. Taking a moment to breath. What exactly had he come here for? What exactly had he walked in on?

“Aerion what are you doing in here?”

He hissed at his older brother using normal speaking volume.

“she’s asleep, how would you explain your presence if she woke?” It was a bold to suggest that Daeron simply entering her chambers would be an action worthy of explination when he was laid beside her. Fingers already having undid the tie of her shift at her chest. He’d already half undressed himself as well and You hadn’t stirred once.

He was quite good at easing into your bed and carefully getting you positioned as he wanted. He had to be patient, which was as a trail for him but he liked touching you, molding you into what he wanted, when you were still truly asleep. He liked getting to see you without any well placed pillows and hands to sheild bits of yourself from him. Eventually you always woke up, he wasn't gentle enough when his peak came for you to ever fully sleep through the encounter.

Daeron blinked, his eyes were adjusted, though his mind was having trouble understanding what he was seeing before him. You had fabric over your chest but it was pulled aside, he could see your small breasts, little tear drops laid against your small frame. You and Aerion had such similar shades of hair and skin that it was hard for him to tell where one of you end and the other begins.

Aerion pressed a kiss into your neck, his teeth just barely grazing the center column on your neck and he smirked kissing your skin again but looking at Daeron this time. Tracking where his older brother was looking.

“come warm them brother,” he clearly had no shame in what he was doing, and did not think that Daeron should have any either. The drunkard was pratically drooling as his eyes gazed at your breasts, At your impossibly hard dusky nipples. “You’ve come for this? I’m presuming?” It was the middle of the night, propriety offered no explanation!

Daeron stiffened, all. of. him. The concept that he sought the same thing from you that Aerion did? It affirmed that this want was not only a queer one but deranged! His eyes closed tightly and he attempted to will himself to leave, but the stiffness that was suddenly growing in his breeches made finding the will for that very hard.

He hadn’t been able to find any release in a while…the whores just weren’t providing him with what he needed! Apparently you were what he’d been vying for.

You made a small whimpering noise and rolled over onto your side, reaching for the blankets but not finding any. Aerion had pushed them off the foot of the bed already.

You kept tossing and trying to find more warmth in the mattress and pillows, only going still when suddenly there was a warmth in front of you. Temperature similar to Aerion’s behind you but it was coming from somebody with softer angles. Daeron had quickly gotten himself into bed when you started to show signs of discomfort from the cool air. He diddnt want you to be uncomfortable. That it what he told himself at least, he wanted to keep you warm. That was why he was here, why his prick was throbbing in his pants and why his hand had come up to cup your tits.

Aerion swallowed as he watched the scene.

“her cunny is wet already.”

Daeron looked from you to his brother and then blinked as he followed the length of Aerion’s arm to see that His fingers were already rubbing between your legs. That he’d had his cock laid out against his stomach and and placed one of your delicate hands there so you could feel him grow hard.

Daeron swallowed tensely but when he heard the sound of Aerion’s fingers pushing into wetness he froze. You were aroused?

”her nose scrunches up when she cums like this.” He shared. “It’s beautiful.” He would only say a compliment that genuine when you were legitimately asleep.

“try it.” He pushed and before Daeron could question anything more his hand was replacing Aerion’s between your legs.

The first climax came quickly, you whined once, attempted to roll over and then it just happened. Your nose wrinkled and lips twitched and then Darrin’s fingers got substantially more damp.

His stomach twisted at the scent that accompanied it and he couldn’t help but take those coated fingers and undo is trousers. He was half hard by this point and a few fists of his cock while his fingers were coated by you had him quickly becoming fully erect.

Aerion had wrapped your limp fingers around the base of his shaft and was jerking himself off using your warm soft hands. He was groaning to much to tell Daeron to do something more.

It was fully his own idea to return his hand to your cunt. gently brush his knuckles over your pearl, which was growing more sensitive the longer this attention went on. It had you breathing fractionally faster, had little whimpers getting lost in your throat and your face scrunched a bit more. His eyes watched every twitch of your brow, tracking to see how you were handling his touch. He was, perversely, curious about how welcoming your body was to him even while you slept.

“hmm?” You whined and a hand flew up to rub your face when two of Daeron’s long fingers plunged up into your weeping core for the first time.

“it’s a dream…” he whispered kissing over your ear once. “It’s okay, you’re asleep.” He promised you. Hand brushing your hair back from your face. You were so beautiful, any lord would be lucky to have you…he tucked your face down into his neck at the thought of that.

His words would be very hard to believe when you truly woke up the next morning and undressed. The bruises would be real, you would be able to see the purple and green skin and feel how tender the spots were when pressed against. How would a dream cause those?

Selfishly he did not want you leaving this hall. Leaving them all here and taking your smile and shy sweet remarks with you. He did not doubt Aerion had taken what you’d offer any worthwhile lord on your wedding night. Aerion was not one to deny himself, and he hadn’t. Not for many years now.

You woke the day after a nameday celebration held in Aerion and yours honor, with bloodied sheets but strangely there was no cramping and no moon blood.

Aerion had woken completly stated in his own chambers. He kept your blood on his prick for close to a week, admiring the stain of where he’d taken you maidenhead. It had been so easy, especially because you’d been so throughly drunk. He thanked Daeron, some time ago, it was oddly timed and from Daeron’s perspective without any reason. But he had been the one to sneak you an entire extra flagon of wine. You’d wanted more and father had correctly put a end to it, but what was a good elder brother around for if not to give his younger siblings what they want.

“turn her onto her side.” Aerion had sat up on his elbow and was watching, his fist furiously working his prick until it was stiff again. He wasn’t a big as his brother but he knew he was stiffer. He could see by how your thighs losely squished Daeron’s semi soft cock that he was far harder, that veins leading up his shaft and the angry red throbbing of his cockhead gave it away.

“I was here first-“ he growled when Daeron did not instantly turn you up onto your side. “I’m being nice and sharing.” He reminded.

Your core clenched at the concept. Aerion was being generous, giving Daeron access to you in such a vulnerable way. He was giving your brother things that he himself should never of gotten to experience.

You whimpered and your fingers dug into the side of Daeron’s ribs. You wanted to stay hidden in his neck. Stay pliantly laid next to him while he bucked himself up against your side and taunted your sensitive pearl. He was warm and soft and his hair smelled like ash in a way that was comforting to you.

“she’s not a toy-“ Daeron whispered with groan, though he did comply and gently turned until you were propped up on your side, one of your legs draped over his knee so you’d be tucked to him.

“Daeron?” you whisper with sleepy eyes and he kisses the corner of your mouth to hush you. Pressing kissed to both your eyes making them close again. Your eyelids wrinkle when there is more warmth pressed to your back. Heated lips against the shell of your ear and the oddly familiar feeling drags against the cleft of your arse.

“She gets so wet when I use her little asshole.” Aerion smirked. Proud and gleeful. He took great pleasure in knowing his supposedly pure and proper twin sister was fucked like a whore, and for free no less! He found that paying for women’s company in the brothels had lost its allure for him. It did not feel needed when he knew you laid In bed, thin lacy shift on and a damp cunt just waiting for him while you dream.

He liked how small you were, that you have pale hair just like him and high cheek bones and that you were thin, but all the edges that he had sharpened through training, were smooth on you.

Daeron hated himself for the pulse of life his cock had when he processed his brothers comment. He’d enjoyed your bottom with his prick. Gods what has Aerion not touched? And gods, what a great many things that he could explore within you. Some level of guilt was, for the moment at least, lifted off of him as he realized that nothing he did to you, with you, would be territory that Aerion had not already charted and therefor destroyed. Your undoing wouldn’t be because of him. Aerion had been in here when he entered…he would of done all this anyway.

”sister, do you wish to train that pretty arsehole tonight?” He bit at your ear and his hand grabbed your hips and squeezed the joint until you pushed back into him to ease the ache.

“mm, yes brother.” You turn your head some, presenting more of your neck to Daeron and giving your twin access to your lips. He kisses you. It was searing and violent and such a strong contrast to Daeron’s soft hesitant ones that now laid wet pecks against your neck.

“yes…see, she’s filthy.” He smirked breaking the kiss to glance at Daeron for a moment. “Tell him.” He growled in your ear. “Tell our brother that you beg and whimper for me in your backside while you sleep.”

“I love his hard length-I dream of it stretching me.” You are breathless by this point. From the intensity of it all, from your body and mind exhausting you for being so disconnected and because Daeron’s squishy fat tip was dragging over your slit with ever unrestrained rut he made.

“going to be good for me?” Aerion questioned as he pulled his lips from yours and quickly made a fist with your hair dragging your face from Daeron’s chest and pushing it to the pillows. You squirmed up over your oldest brother more, hands grabbing his side.

You gasped against the fabric of your feather stuffed pillows when Daeron’s cock just nudged at your core. He hit to low so he did not actually enter but your whined regardless.

“please…Plesse Daeron-“

He was already rushing to fix the placement of his manhood, he did not want to enter you, did not want to hurt you. He’d understood your plea differently than you’d intended him to.

Sighing a bit when he managed to lay his length against your slit correctly. His cock held in place but your swollen folds and his gentle humping started then.

“I won’t hurt you, I won’t.” He repeated in your ear kissing over the teeth marks Aerion had left on your shoulder.

“She wouldn’t mind, if you did.” Aerion explained while spreading your cheeks apart and spitting down at your puckered hole. You moaned as if to punctuate his point.

Maybe you were? Or mayhaps he had just pushed your pelvis down and made your clit grind against Daeron’s being shaft more directly.

“just wait, she’ll get more wet brother.” He smirked and pushed his hard prick down so it was directed towards you instead of flush against his toned stomach.

You tensed at first, just the feeling of his tip pushing against a spot it shouldn’t be had your heart racing. But another frantic rut from Daeron beneath you made your body relax and it gave Aerion just enough give to feed his cockhead into your ass. He groaned at the uncontrolled clenching and pulled at your hair a bit.

“take me.” He demanded and you nodded frantically lifting your hips back to prop your bottom up more.

Daeron let you, his hands were holding your waist tightly but it wasn’t for control it was clearly just because he was quickly getting to that state of feeling overwhelmed by his own pleasure and needed something to ground him. His hips chased your velvety warmth even when you lifted from him to meet Aerion’s pressure.

“fucking hells.” Daeron panted and he laid back soaking in the feeling of you, the way your clit started to twitch some as Aerion got deeper.

“mmm-gods-“ you let out a pinched groan when finally all of your twins length is sealed within you. He spit down at your agains and pulled his narrow hips back to watch his own spit coat the base of his cock.

“There you go.” He nodded. He was groaning from how tight you were around him but your ass was not what had him mesmerized. It was seeing little glimpses of your cunny. Seeing how your back arched your your breath hitched when Daeron would move. It was already a mess between your legs and though some of it was likely his brother pre, he knew most of the glistening mess that was causing the squishing wet sounds was your own arousal getting spread around.

Your body loved this.

He pushed you down so Daeron’s cock was almost fully hidden by your folds and he smirked when the rutting got more frantic.

“you can finish in her next time…if you bring moon tea.” He informed. Offering you up again.

When Aerion started to pull his hips back you shook your head and whinned. “Wait-no…”

“stop-quiet.” He bent over you, pushing himself back in fully and your yelped against the pillow. “Going to be quiet?” He growled in your ear and you nodded weakly so he would let his weight off your back, let your body relax a bit from not having him pressed in further than it wanted to allow!

“don’t ruin our bothers fun.” If you got to loud somebody might come. Quiet was important. Quiet meant you would be safe. Nobody could know about this!

Aerion pulled out fully when you agreed to behave. He hooked his thumb inside of your clenching hole and felt how your ass attempt to relax after the intrusion. Just as it did he happily pushed himself back in with a single forceful stroke. His chest was red from how good it felt and the veins going up his neck were engorged as he did the same movement over and over again. Fully out, and then intruding again the moment you calmed.

Though at one point in the soft grunts and sweaty movements Daeron’s hand wrapped around your body and pushed down the small of your back. His high was right there and he was not about to let it get away.

“fuck fuck fuckkk…” he slurred into your shoulder his hips clapping hip at you as his cock pulsed and you suddenly felt the stick warm coat your skin. The change in position ruined Aerion’s normal projected enterence point and instead of his cock sliding between your butt he glided down against your slick pussy. His fiercely hard prick rubbing against Daeron’s softening one as both of them rutted at you.

Your head could turn to look back at them slightly because the moment Aerion move against your cunt and Daeron’s length, his spend was mixing with Daeron’s making a complete mess between you thighs.

You blinked, tired eyes trying to read his face. Was he mad? Was this okay? He’d gotten his release, that was what he cared most about so he should at least be content? You hoped he was. Some deep twisting part of you always wanted to make sure your twin was happy after.

When Aerion pulled back, off of you and the bed you rolled onto your back and shivered at the loss of heat. Your hand trembled as you covered your mound and looked up at the ceiling.

“clean her up.” Aerion ordered, tossing Daeron, who was much slower to sit up, the cloth he’d just used to clean himself.

You whined when he touched your thigh, trying to part your legs a bit more so he could actually wipe up all the cum from your flesh.

“Let him.” Instantly your legs parted and your felt Daeron gently clean you up.

“Good, now when you wake up in the morning and feel how wet you are you’ll know it’s because you enjoyed this little dream so much sister. Right?”

“yes.” You nodded and laid back against the pillows as Daeron retrieved your blanket from the floor.

“close your eyes.” He said rubbing your cheek after tucking the quilt around you. You did. “Goodnight sister.” You felt his lips touch your temple. Then his weight lifted from the bed. The door opened, and shut a moment later and you were alone.

You kept your eyes closed, and eventually true sleep did come back and bring you into its still embrace.

“that will have you sleeping quite peacefully I imagine, goodnight brother.” Aerion clapped Daeron’s shoulder and went to go down a different passageway after leaving your room.

“hardly-“ Aerion had no understand of how the dragon dreams worked, they did not just cease to occur if he wore himself out enough. It wouldn’t been his dreams that haunted him tonight, it would be the action he’d just committed. Real tangible regrets and worry not future concerns for events that had not yet transpired.

Aerion laughed when he saw the shame and worry all over his older brothers face. He would be filled with guilt, he should have anticipated that!

“she doesn’t remember it…”

“she was fully awake Aerion, how could she not remember it?!”

“Well she’s never mentions it in the morning before.“ he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Mayhaps she thinks it is a nightmare…”

Did she think herself mad for having such vivid dreams of her own defiling? Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her waking up with wetness between her legs, and bruised on her hips…Aerion’s teeth marks embedded into the side of her chest. How did she reason that their got there?

“-or a lovely dream, brother.” Aerion smirked, pride dripping from the corner of his grin as it got wider. “Of course our sweet sister could just be a whore, glad to let sleep be a mask to her desires. Too ashamed, too desperate for it to happen again that she must continue on pretending?”

Daeron blinker at his younger brothers statement. The cruelty of it… and the possibility that he genuinely was correct. He felt his head throb as he attempted to decipher if you craved more of that attention or just had disassociated from it entirely.

You were not even sure which was the truth anymore.

You were sitting in the dark, on the counter of the tiny kitchen you all shared during the camp. It was the middle of the night, and the nerves were starting to get to you, your dreams and hopes for the championship turning into anxiety-ridden dreams that were waking you up night after night.

You were eating ice cream, directly from the bucket, a chocolate and vanilla mix that had your names plastered all over it, just in case someone else was even tempted to grab a spoonful.

“Why are you awake?” a deep and quite annoyed voice of Coach Mike’s whisper filled the room. He crossed his arms, standing in front of you; close, maybe too close.

You heard him coming, heavy steps from the upper floor. You enjoyed your filtration, being Mike’s favourite, but you were craving more, so much more. Just the sight of him standing in front of you, his face in an inquisitive frown, made your pussy ache and clench around nothing. 

“Persistent craving for something sweet,” you replied with a smirk, slowly pulling the spoon between your lips in the most flirtatious way you could. 

Mike’s glance fell from your lips to your top and your already hardened nipples as he stepped half a step closer. You could already feel the heat radiating from his body as he desperately tried to calm his breathing. 

“Would you like some?” you continued in the same manner, flashing a devious smile his way.

“Mhm,” he nodded, stepping completely into your space, his huge hands splayed on the counter around you, one of his thumbs oh-so-accidentally brushing against your thigh. 

He smelled so good, looking so fucking hot in that kit, his nipples peeking through the flimsy material. You tried so hard not to look down at his bulge, the same one you kept sneaking glances at for days on end already. He was so close too, his legs brushing on the insides of your thighs, but not close enough for his cock to press against your skin, not yet.

You brought the spoon all the way to his lips, mostly chocolate because that’s what Mike preferred, trying hard not to blush while looking him in the eyes. 

He took it a little awkwardly, his lips closing around the cold metal, his eyes fixed on you and your face, waiting for what you’d do next.

You licked the spoon slowly and thoroughly, making a point of getting every last taste of Mike’s saliva, dragging the spoon shamelessly over your tongue. Mike’s thumb stilled on your thigh, his eyes focused on your lips, his mouth slightly agape.

And then Mike closed the distance.

His lips crashed into yours, his hand grabbing at your neck to hold you steady. He was quite eager and needy, his teeth tugging at your lips, then swallowing, in a sloppy, wet kiss that made you immediately wetter. Your fingers were playing with the chain around his neck, tugging at his shirt, and tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself harder against his hardened chest and broad shoulder, your legs pulling him closer into you.

You finally felt it, his cock that was already throbbing, begging for the warmth of your pussy. And it was big and fat. Fuck, you needed Mike to fuck you right here and right now.

Mike was whisper-moaning into your mouth, his tongue continually darting into your mouth and licking your lips; he wanted to be so much louder, enjoy this finally, but he was aware of the thin walls of the building, and he didn’t want to ruin this moment by having your teammates or other coaches stumble onto you two.

Suddenly, Mike picked you up by your ass, and you almost shrieked, surprised by his strength. Adjoining the kitchen was a tiny living room space, with a TV, a couple of sofa chairs, and a couch, perfectly shielded from view. 

He dropped you on that couch, crawling over you, his lips dragging over your neck; he was grinding onto your pussy through the fabric, sending a jolt of electricity through you and dragging a loud whimper from your throat. Too loud.

His hand immediately shot up to cover your mouth as he continued to kiss your neck, short exhales warming your skin. Your hips desperately buckled into him.

And then you heard it, a creak of the door and steps coming your way; one of your teammates, for sure.

Mike slowed down, his eyes finding yours in the dark, but he didn’t stop, and neither did you.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whispered, desperately and cock hungry, “just put it in for a bit.” You immediately moved both your shorts and panties to the side, pleading with Mike, your whole body trembling under his weight. If you could feel him inside just for a little bit, surely you would feel so much better immediately.

Mike waited for a moment, weighing his options, this whole situation, before hastily pulling down his shorts; his cock was flushed, and already leaking, so ready to bury itself deep inside your warm walls. 

He pushed slowly, his hand clamping harder against your mouth; you closed your eyes, exhaling hard into his fingers, trying so hard not to moan in pleasure. Mike’s cock felt so good, stretching you out, dragging inside your tight walls, his cockhead kissing all the way in, causing even more heat and excitement to pull inside your pussy.

You couldn’t dwell on it too long; those steps now walking around the kitchen, so close to the couch where Mike was literally thrusting into you, unable to stop himself. Your heart was beating so hard, and you tried to still your body, your legs and arms wrapped around Mike, trying to still him too, will him into not moving or making another sound.

On the other hand, you didn’t care that much, wanting him to fuck you hard and fast, make you come around his cock, over and over again. His head was still buried in the crook of your neck, and he was nibbling at your skin to try and stop himself from moaning, his hot breath sending pleasurable waves through you, all the way to your hardened nipples.

You listened as your teammate found your opened ice cream on the counter, and nicely put it back into the freezer, then opened one of the cupboards, surely looking for her stash of some forbidden snacks. You wanted her to leave as soon as possible because you were sure not even Mike’s hand could stop the moan building in you, caused by Mike’s cock impatiently twitching inside you.

“Fuck,” you finally whispered after hearing the doors close, your tense body relaxing somewhat, as Mike’s mouth closed around your nipple, sucking through the fabric.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his hips slowly thrusting into you, making you arch your back, your chest pushing into him. “My good girl,” he continued, enjoying how your pussy responded to his praise, fluttering and clamping on his cock.

He dragged his cock out of you slowly, and kept pushing it back in the same manner, driving you crazy, his mouth now wrapped around your other nipple. You pushed your hands under his shirt, your nails digging into his skin, making his leaky cock twitch even harder, drawing quiet moans out of him.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Mike continued, returning to your throat, the hand clamping onto your mouth now sneaking its way between your bodies to rub at your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, Mike,” you whispered, your whole body squirming, unsure if you could take all this overstimulation; in the past, with other lovers, you would usually tense so hard you couldn’t come at all, and you really, really wanted to come with Mike, so fucking badly.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he instructed, now nibbling at your jaw. “I want you to come around my cock, milk me dry.”

“I want that too,” you whispered, teary-eyed, your jaw tensing. “And I want you to come inside, Mike,” you added, fully aware of how desperate you sounded, begging your coach to fill your pussy up.

“Yeah?” Mike chuckled, speeding up his thrusts, still trying to find the right rhythm of rubbing your clit. “You want me to spill inside this tight pussy, sweetheart?”

You answered with a moan, his fingers finally applying the right pressure in the right tight circles, causing the knot in your stomach to finally start tightening. You couldn’t think anymore, and for the next couple of minutes, you weren’t aware of anything except Mike, and his mouth on yours, and his cock fucking into your rougher, and his fingers rhythmically working at your desperate clit.

Mike kept telling you to breathe and be good, to breathe and relax, and how he would make you feel good if you continued to listen to him, and you just kept nodding, completely unaware of how pussy drunk he was.

“Just a bit more,” he kept repeating, and you thought he was talking to you, but he was talking to himself, trying to prolong this feeling of being balls deep inside you, finally.

You listened to that squelch his cock was making in your pussy, your slick surely dripping all over him and his shorts and the fucking couch, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass - you finally felt it, and you let go, that fucking divine feeling of coming overwhelming you, your vision changing to white, and Mike’s mouth swallowing your whimpers and breaths.

He kept fucking you through it, desperately pressing himself against you, fucking you into the couch, his weight almost completely on your body. It felt so good, not to have a man cum immediately into you, but to continue out of sheer need to feel you this much.

“Just a bit more,” Mike whispered again, his forehead pressed against yours, his hips burning into your spread thighs.

You were too tired to keep your legs wrapped around him, your knees falling to either side of him, your arms tiredly hanging from his neck. You were sweaty and sticky, and yet, you wanted to make Mike feel so good, as good as you felt.

“Mike? Mike, does it feel good for you?” you asked, pressing your lips to his ear.

“Yeah, it fucking does. I just want it for a bit longer,” he muttered, his hips hitting against yours with a bruising strength.

“I promise you can fuck me tomorrow, Mike. And the day after and the day after,” you cooed, bringing him in for another sloppy kiss.

“I want to fuck you anytime I want,” he replied, his hips stuttering. “I want to fuck you and spill my cum inside you any fucking time I want,” he groaned, stilling.

You could feel it, the twitching and the hot stickiness of his spurts, painting your insides, and Mike falling on top of you, pressing sloppy, open-mouth kisses all over your face. 

“I want you, sweetheart,” he muttered, breathing hard and ragged. “I want you all the time.” 

You smiled, feeling a sudden emptiness when Mike pulled his cock out; you quickly pulled your panties higher up, and the shorts too, so his leaking cum could soak them thoroughly. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” you whispered as he helped you stand up, “we do it somewhere more comfortable? I don’t want you to suffer, old man,” you added with a smirk. 

“So funny you think I’m already done with you tonight,” Mike whispered back, grabbing at your ass.

If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-

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A chilly wind picked up, making you wrap your burgundy cloak tighter around you. The litter was prepared, caravans readied, and everyone was eager to depart, but Lyonel lingered for a bit longer.

"My lord, we should ready to depart," Raymont said. He was Lyonel's youngest cousin who served as his squire. He was a good lad and kept everything organized and on time, an attribute that was not your beloved husband's strongest suit.

"A few more minutes, then we can go," Lyonel said, leaning on his antler crutch. You rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, knowing he still held hope that Ser Duncan might join him.

Time passed, and the hedge knight did not show, making your husband sigh heavily.

"Let us go." The disappointed look in his dark eyes nearly crushed you. His lips gently brushed across your cheek, standing close as you mounted your horse.

"Ser Lyonel!" a deep voice bellowed across the field, and the party turned to look. Over the grassy hill rode Ser Duncan atop his huge brown destrier, which the older, brown stot following behind.

A grin broke across Lyonel's face. "Good lad, you decided to join me after all."

Dunk nodded, his face still bruised and swollen with his left arm in a sling. "I've had enough of princes, m'lord."

"Ride alongside my wife and me. We must be going, or Raymont will have all our heads," Lyonel said, clapping the horse's flank. He mounted a black palfrey, having lost his destrier in the Trial at the hands of Prince Maekar Targaryen.

The little took off, departing for Storm's End, where new adventures awaited.

Everyone was feeling sore and tired by the time they arrived at the castle. You rolled your shoulders as the household servants bustled around, and you instructed them to start preparing hot baths and a room for Dunk. Lyonel had his arms full with Roslyn and Jocelyn, fussing over the dark haired girls and showering them with attention. Their wide, dark eyes peered at Dunk curiously.

"Come and introduce yourselves, my darlings," you smiled, extended your hands out to them, and brought them closer. Roslyn was the elder, and Jocelyn was younger by three years. Lyonel adored them equally, even if they were constantly trying to get him to name a favorite.

"Miladies," Dunk said, giving a small bow, and the girls giggled.

"We will spend time together before supper. I must settle our guest in," you told them, kissing the top of each of their silky, dark heads.

"You and Ser Lyonel are kind for hosting me, milady," he said, towering over you, even bigger than your good husband. "Your daughters are as beautiful as you."

"Thank you, and we are happy to have you. My husband is quite fond of you, Ser, understandably so," you said, showing him to his quarters after winding up the stone staircase leading to the drum tower.

"You are kind to say so, milady," he said, ducking his head while his cheeks pinkened.

You escorted him into the quarters, where a steaming bath awaited him. "I will send in some of the stewards to help attend to you."

"No need for the fuss, I can handle it, I'm certain," he insisted.

"You are injured."

"It's alright."

You placed a hand on your hip. "You are as stubborn as my husband, it seems. Then let me assist you."

"N…no! That….you are a lady!"

"Very astute, Ser Duncan. I can assure you the sight of your cock will not make me faint. I've been surrounded by too many of my husband's men to pale at one."

His jaw dropped. How he yearned for the touch of a woman, yet how could he ask such a thing from a noble married lady?

You could see the hesitation all over his face. "I assure you, it will not upset my husband in any way. I have tended to many of his men over the years, plus we don't want the water to get cold."

The men who were more than simple companions. Beesbury had been one, and you knew his death tolled on Lyonel. Guilt swirled inside him, but who else would have rallied to aid in the Trial other than the dear man? The man who would have followed Lyonel to the ends of the world, and for whom Lyonel would have done the same. Over the return to Storm's End, which took a little over a fortnight, you saw the bond deepen between Lyonel and Dunk, but you did not begrudge it. Lyonel had always been honest with you about where his desires lay, and it only made you love him more. He was a good husband, a good father, and gave you freedoms along with whatever you desired, so you could not deny him of his true nature. You only asked for his honesty regarding the trysts, which he always honored.

"I…thank you, milady," Dunk murmured, and it was charming to watch such a large man attempt to make himself small.

You moved closer to help him undress, carefully removing the sling. The bruises and face swelling had gone down, but you would make a poultice for him later that evening. The blush spread down his cheeks toward his neck as you tenderly and methodically removed his clothing. You didn't let your eyes linger, not wishing to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. He got into the bath on his own, groaning as he sank into the hot water.

"Seven Hells," he sighed.

You chuckled. "Yes, a hot bath can solve nearly all issues." You dipped the sponge into the water before lathering it with soap, starting with Duncan's broad back, careful of his injured shoulder. His wounds were healing nicely, but you would give them a thorough examination after the bath.

Soft sighs toppled from his mouth as you massaged his scalp. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the movements, remembering two summers ago as you tended to Humfrey and Lyonel in the bathhouse after the Lannisport tourney. Helping to wash the dirt and blood from them, the sweet kisses they left on your skin, the way their fingers curled inside you, the heat from their bodies as they enveloped you between them. Lyonel instructing Humfrey how to suckle your nipples. The hazy image of Lyonel's cock buried inside Humfrey as the honey mustached man gripped the stone's edge. A blurred memory from days past.

"There we are, Ser Dunk, clean as fresh linen," you smiled, noting the thin film of grime that coated the bathwater.

"I feel like a new man, thank you again, milady," he grinned, those blue eyes meeting your gaze.

"I've had the steward lay out some of my father in law's clothing for you. The dear man departed years ago, but he was almost as big as you. I can have my seamstress alter them if need be. I could arrange for supper to be brought to your rooms, but you are welcome to join us in the Round Hall if you wish."

"I would like that, milady. You've been most kind."

"'Tis my pleasure, Ser Duncan. I will leave you to rest."

He reached out, squeezing your hand. His touch lingered on your skin, like flames crackling over your fingertips. You found solace in your private quarters, where the ladies helped tend to and bathe you, dressing you in a rich golden dress embossed with vibrant purple grapes.

"Please arrange for an Arbor red this evening," you told them. You yearned for a taste of home.

Lyonel found you warming by the fire, embroidery hoop in your lap and half asleep. A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. The familiar scent of leather and musk wafted under your nose.

"Duncan is settling in nicely," he commented, studying you with his dark eyes. "You are to thank for that."

Your hand curled around his fingers. "I enjoy him, as do you, I suspect."

"You've always been perceptive, clever girl."

He pulled his fingers from your grip before kneeling in front of you. The firelight caught in the flecks of gold hidden in those dark eyes. How fitting they were for a Baratheon man. He drew your hands toward his mouth, placing soft kisses upon them. His beard made your skin prickle.

"Does it upset you?" Warm mouth spreading heat over your skin.

"Lyonel, if it truly upset me, I wouldn't have married you all those years ago," you smiled.

"You have never felt neglected?"

"Never," you assured him. "I know you would give them up if I asked, but I only wish for your happiness as I know you do for mine."

"The Gods truly blessed me with you," he whispered before laying his head in your lap. You lazily dragged your fingers through his curls, remembering when you laboured with Roslyn and how he had ridden through the night to return to Storm's End to be by your side. He didn't want you to be alone or miss the birth of his first child. You'd never forget the proud look on his face as he held her in his arms. The bonny babe wrapped in a gold cloth.

"All this will be yours one day," he whispered to her.

"I am sorry about Beesbury," you whispered, "I know how special he was to you."

"He was a good man, a fine man, and he is with the Gods now."

"I promised our girls I would spend time with them before supper," you hummed, gently massaging his scalp as you had done with Ser Duncan earlier.

"Ah, well, do not keep our little lasses waiting," he smiled, rolling to his feet.

"Go and visit with Dunk; he would be happy for your company." You rose, pulling Lyonel's face down and kissing him softly.

Supper was a warm affair, with your daughters transfixed by Duncan's endless appetite.

"You will be well fed here, Ser Duncan," Jocelyn said.

"I have no doubt, milady," he chuckled.

The girls entertained Dunk with their dancing once supper ended, and you knew that he would be favoured in these halls.

Many moons passed, bringing the three of you closer into an intricately woven web. While you had cared for Beesbury, participating in the occasional dalliance, you had never truly fallen for one of your husband's paramours. But there was something different about Dunk. He was pure hearted, a knight of the people. It was hardly surprising how he won over the hearts of many at Ashford, even the departed Prince Baelor. Your daughters took it upon themselves to teach him letters, helping him to read and write, and never poking fun at him. He doted upon them, constantly parading around the castle with them tossed over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing more than a simple bag of flour. Most of his days were spent with Lyonel in the training yard, and the hedge knight picked up skills easily. He was stalwart.

You came to welcome the shy smiles he would toss your way. The way those blue eyes would sparkle. The rosy flush that clung to his cheeks and neck. The rough feeling of his hand beneath yours when he would help you to stand or dismount from your horse. It all made your heart skip a beat.

You couldn't ignore the hushed whispers between him and Lyonel. The swollen lips of your husband as he crawled into your bed. The all too familiar bite marks marring Dunk's pale shoulder when he undressed, the colors of your husband's house falling around his feet. A strange jealousy began to bloom deep inside your belly, but you did not wish for it to fester and cause you to rot.

"Will you share him with me?" you whispered to Lyonel one evening.

"Hmm?" Lyonel hummed, half asleep next to you.

"Dunk. I wish you to share him with me," you stated more clearly.

"Truly?" He shifted to face you.

"Yes, please. I have never asked for much, but might I partake with you?"

"If that is what you desire." He grazed his knuckles down your cheek. "I could never deny you."

And so it began.

Dunk was green, eager to please both you and Lyonel. That head, hair kissed by fire, disappearing between your thighs with your legs tossed over his broad shoulders. Once hesitant in the beginning, his movements grew bolder until he knew exactly how to trace his tongue over your swollen pearl. The sweet reward of your release, soaking his tongue, was all he needed to show him that he had done a wonderful job.

There were the nights that he and Lyonel entangled. Two valiant warriors curved together, melding into each other. The hedge knight's weight wedged on top of the Laughing Storm, cock buried deep inside. Sweet sweat beading down your husband's neck and forehead while Dunk set a gentle pace.

The best nights were when the three of you intertwined. Each man's mouth wrapped around your breasts, making you writhe and drip with pleasure. Taking your time stroking their cocks until the flesh stiffened and leaked. Your body learned to bend and adjust in ways you never thought possible, learning to accommodate two cocks buried inside your willing, eager cunt.

The only strict rule was that Dunk could not finish inside you. Lyonel could not risk you becoming the topic of cruel gossip or feeling shamed should a child emerge from the union. Neither you nor Dunk could argue with such logic.

The storm raged outside, heavy rain falling like pellets against the castle walls. In your chambers, the fire roared in the hearth, bathing the room in an amber glow. Various flickering candles were scattered across the room. Red and gold silks were draped over the canopy of your bed. Three golden goblets were filled to the brim with crisp Arbor white, and a silver platter filled with plump red grapes, almonds dipped in honey, ripe red cherries, cups of sweet cream, and halved figs sat in the middle of the bed. All this helped to create a cozy, yet sultry atmosphere.

You wore only a gauzy, thin robe, but the two men coupling you and the roaring fire staved off the cold. Lyonel wore nothing at all apart from two golden rings threaded with a golden chain through his nipples, and Dunk was just in his thin breeches. There was still a shyness that lingered beneath his surface, only furthering the endearment you and Lyonel held for him. You dipped your finger into the sweet cream, gently licking it away. Dunk lay on his back, slipping almonds one by one into his mouth with the sticky honey lingering on his fingers.

You crawled toward him, straddling his thick chest and lifting his hand to your mouth. Slowly, you suckled the honey from each fingertip. You would never get over how big he was. His cock swelled against the curve of your arse. Lyonel watched through heavy-lidded eyes, white wine dribbling down the corners of his mouth as he indulged one thirst.

"Open her up for me, Ser Dunk," he whispered huskily.

You gasped as Dunk maneuvered your body with ease, bracing you against his chest while using his large hands to spread your thighs wide.

"The sight of that cunt would make the most skilled of sailors crash right into the rocks," Lyonel mused, reaching down to stroke his cock. "They would beg to drown in it."

"I agree, milord. 'Tis a thing of beauty," Dunk hummed. One of his hands slipped down your belly to cup you between your legs before skimming his fingers over your flesh. His middle one sank deep inside you.

"We are men of good taste, are we not?" Lyonel smirked. With hazy vision, you watched Lyonel coat two of his fingers in oil.

Dunk nodded, nuzzling your shoulder while Lyonel positioned himself between your thighs. "Very good taste, milord."

Dunk's finger buried inside you made warmth flutter through your belly, spreading lower like slow dripping honey. Like the honey lingering on your tongue from his fingers. You whimpered when the digit was removed, leaving you longing for something to clench around. He tilted you back, keeping you against his bare, warm chest as more of you was exposed to Lyonel's eyes.

"Deep breath, my darling," Lyonel murmured before kissing your belly. His hot kiss lingered on your skin, burning an invisible mark that was soothed away by Dunk's palm. You inhaled slowly, filling your lungs as Lyonel's fingers aligned with your puckered arsehole. The slip of the oil allowed them easy entrance into the tight ring. "You wished to know what it felt like."

Ah, yes, you had been curious as a cock had never filled you there, yet it seemed to bring Lyonel and Dunk great pleasure. Just two nights ago, Dunk had spread Lyonel's cheeks wide and delved his tongue between the crevice. Meaty fingers digging into your husband's plush arse while the hedge knight devoured him. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you wished to experience it. It was not unpleasant once adjusted to the feeling. A feeling of being stuffed impossibly full.

"You're doing so well, milady," Dunk whispered into your ear, the praise enveloping you like a warm robe. The wisps of the one you were currently wearing clung to your perspiring skin. You groaned when Dunk rolled the stiff, aching flesh between the rough pads of his fingers.

With two fingers still buried in your arse, Lyonel lowered his mouth to your cunt. You twitched in Dunk's grasp while your good husband suckled and lapped at your swollen pearl. His fingers curved upward, sinking in deeper and hitting a pleasure spot inside you. Thick, pleasurable moans spilled wantonly from your parted mouth as you tumbled into an intense release.

"Dear Gods, woman, you do intend to drown me," Lyonel said with a wide grin, the aftermath of your release clinging to his beard and mouth. Gently, he withdrew his fingers before standing to wash his hands at the basin. Dunk stroked your body, peeling the thin covering away from your body.

"May I, milady?"

"What a sweet lad to ask," Lyonel teased.

"Leave him be," you chided. "Please, Ser Duncan, you may."

He kept you braced against his chest, your legs hooked over his wide thighs, before plunging two fingers into your sopping cunt.

"Ah!" you gasped, clenching around them. You felt Lyonel's hand on your cheek, thumb sliding between your lips.

"Open."

You obeyed, parting your mouth wide. The white wine trickled into your mouth, splashing against your tongue and quenching your thirst with the crisp taste of citrus. You sputtered softly, closing your mouth and feeling a thin stream run down the corners of your lips, then dribble down your neck. Dunk's free hand massaged your breasts, and soon your toes curled as you toppled into another peak. Heat prickled across your body, chest heaving softly in the aftermath, and you felt as if you could melt into Dunk's chest. The two men moved you carefully, settling you against the golden pillows with Lyonel hand feeding you cherries dipped in sweet cream while Dunk wiped you down with a wet cloth.

"How are you feeling, sweet wife?" Lyonel asked, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear.

"Very well, mayhaps a bit tired," you smiled. The juice from the cherries stained your lips.

"Then rest." His hand rubbed your hip and thigh. "Do you mind if Ser Duncan attends to me?"

You shook your head, stroking Dunk's face as one cheek pressed against your thigh. "Not at all. I will merely enjoy the show."

"The Gods truly broke the mold with you, good lady wife," Lyonel whispered.

"Never forget it," you quipped playfully before tugging on the golden chain between the piercings, eliciting a soft hiss from him, then helped Dunk from his breeches.

He left you with a searing kiss before turning his attentions to Dunk. You hugged a pillow against your naked body as you watched Dunk dribble and smear oil between your husband's cheeks. Lyonel stretched like a lithe panther on his belly.

"Milord," Dunk whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Lyonel's neck. His hand tangled in the damp mess of Lyonel's curls as he lined up his cock. You squeezed the pillow tighter against your belly while watching Dunk's leaking, engorged cock sink deep into your husband, disappearing between his pert arse.

They kept his position for a while before switching to another, with Lyonel's legs braced against Dunk's shoulders and the Laughing Storm's knees nearly to his ears. The golden chain was clasped between Dunk's teeth as he rolled his hips, driving himself deeper into Lyonel. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. The heat and desire between them bled heavily through the room. Lyonel left a sticky, pearlescent mess over Dunk's belly while the hedge knight's spend leaked from your husband's puffy hole. You tended to them after, wiping them down and kissing them before the three of you curled together.

Maekar ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Becoming the father of six, Maekar got used to being constantly nervous, and it got worse when Dyanna died. However, when he decided to confess his feelings to you, that nervousness turned into insecurity. Something foreign for the Anvil. He brooded for days, closed up in his chambers, until he decided it was ridiculous and set aside everything to go straight to the point, but failing in the manners. He would express the obvious by almost touching on the insult and taking for granted an eventual union. When you refused his feelings, he became touchy, and you animatedly argued until your love escaped from your lips, calming the waters and recovering from the back-and-forth.

Lyonel ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The joyful and light-hearted nature of Lyonel led him to visit you often, cover you with gifts of every taste but carefully avoiding speaking about his feelings. Wasn’t his practical love language enough to make you realise how he feels? Yes, it was, but you didn’t want to give him the victory without fighting. When you asked him directly if he loved you, he started laughing nervously, making stupid excuses to avoid answering. Teasing him with a fake marriage proposal from another Lord worked to see him on his knee, pouring his heart on a silver tray and begging for your love.

Baelor ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The heir to the throne has been prepared for the role throughout his life, learning to use words appropriately according to the circumstances. No one ever taught him how to express his feelings to a woman, though, and he became restless. He would write down an essay and memorise every single word to repeat it at you with charm and confidence. Too bad he froze in front of you when the time came, and after long moments of absolutely embarrassing silence, he would excuse himself and take leave. You had to subtly reassure him and nudge him until he made a proper love confession with a hand kiss in the end.

Duncan ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Our pure boy would become strangely quiet and avoid you because his good soul prevented him from hiding or lying about his feelings, but at the same time, he would be terrified to lose you forever. Your journey around the Seven Kingdoms would become weird and filled with tension; something you couldn’t bear. When you asked for clarification about his strange behaviour, he would stutter about a fake nightmare or an argument he had with someone at the market. All little lies that led him to panic until you reached for his hand, reassuring him softly until he would just say the three magic words.

Cregan ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Her hand hung at her hip from the doorway, shaking her head as she stepped into the room.

That same argument carried on for a few more minutes before dissolving into laughter and accusations of snack theft. Which wasn’t exactly wrong. Somehow he’d devoured the entire bag before you and Kat had properly sat down onto the couch.

The apartment had gone hazy around the edges. Incense burned slowly in the corner beside an army of plants crowding the windowsills. Someone had cracked open a window, the thick air blowing out through the blinds with the distant hum of the city around you.

You’d found yourself curled up on the couch somewhere in the middle of it all, tucked beneath an old blanket you’d long since claimed as your own.

The camera sat abandoned on the coffee table, tossed aside where you’d left it. But Bobby, being him, he noticed it immediately, the calm silence going with it.

“You’ve got film in this?”

You cracked one eye open, Kat stirring beside you as she flicked through the tv channels.

“Maybe.”

He picked it up with careful hands, turning it over beneath the amber lamp light. It was one you’d been gifted, a cheap little recorder enough to fit in a few tapes.

“Y’know you don’t leave a loaded camera lying around,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, checking it out at all angles.

Kat snorted from beside you, nudging you with her arm.

“There he goes.”

“What?” Your head angled to look at her, rested onto the seat of the cushions behind you.

“Film geek Bobby.”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he didn’t speak, entirely transfixed on the device in his hands instead. From the high or his pure passion you weren’t sure. Likely both.

“You only have…” He checked the counter, scrolling his finger along the wheels and buttons.

“Eight shots left.”

“How can you tell that?”

Bobby looked up at you over the top of the camera, offended. He adjusted the focus ring absentmindedly while he talked, thumb brushing over the body of the camera like muscle memory.

“This lens is nice,” he said. “Did you thrift this?”

“Sure did.”

The teasing expression he had given you softened immediately.

“Oh.”

His fingers became gentler somehow, smiling at you as he continued.

“…Then we should use the rest properly.”

And he does. Of course.

He crouches by the plants, catching Kat’s mid rant about something that happened at work the other week, casting across the room like it’s something important. And not as plain as it is. You then find the camera angled at both of you, a smirk appearing just behind it.

“Bobby.”

“Hm?” He barely registered over the way he stared into the lens, inching closer to you teasingly.

“Don’t.”

“Why?” He pulled back just a touch, you and Kat curled under the blanket grimacing at him.

“Because we look half asleep.”

He leaned back down and peered through the viewfinder anyway, his own lidded eyes peeking over it.

“Exactly.”

But it wasn’t what he saw. Sure, the pot you’d smoked horus ago had left all three of you mellow, perfectly relaxed and comfortable lounging together. But there was more. His fingers pressed onto the zoom, turning the lens to fit you both into the recording, and in his eyes, perfectly.

The clear, white haze swirled about the room, sunlight peeking across you and Kat in dappled patterns, across your face, your eyes, the faces of the two people he found loving the most.

“You look great.. perfectly candid, see.”

He slid down between you both then, straightening his back just before he parked himself onto the couch with. squeeze. He shut the camera off but kept it in his lap, tracing his fingers along the plastic as the tape saved to file.

You and Kat shared an amused glance over his head, awaiting what was apparently so.. perfect.

—

The television played to itself.

None of you had been paying attention for the better part of twenty minutes. Bobby had shoved himself further between the two of you, one leg kicked out beneath the coffee table, the other pressed against yours. His fingers absently traced over the worn leather strap whenever the commercials got too loud.

Kat had migrated at some point, curled into his side with the familiarity that she’d done a hundred times before. Her socked feet were thrown over him and into your lap, lazily nudging you every so often whenever she caught you gazing off into the distance. You rested at his other side, as eased as you could without the thoughts racing.

It was comfortable in every way, just as it always had been, but the tension still grew tight, somehow more than before. Somehow stronger since last time..

The apartment smelled like incense and old upholstery and whatever snacks had survived Bobby’s attempt at “sharing.” And it was warm, too warm.

Bobby glanced down at the camera, brow furrowing.

“Three left.”

“You’re still counting?” Kat asked.

“Of course I’m still counting.”

“Nerd.”

“Film enthusiast,” he corrected on instinct and you huffed out a quiet laugh.

“There’s a difference?” Bobby looked over at you then.

“A massive one.”

The television cast shifting light across the room. Blue. Gold. Blue again. Kat’s head tipped back against the couch cushion as she looked between the two of you.

“You know,” she said eventually, voice gone thoughtful, “we never actually used them the way we said we would.”

Bobby blinked.

“…What way?”

She shot him an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

And then the realisation dawned slowly across his face. Because they had spoken about it. Often.

“Oh.”

His hand tightened slightly around the camera.

“Right.”

You could feel both of them looking at you, the wright of their stare, and the apartment suddenly seemed much quieter than it had a moments ago. Bobby’s thumb brushed along the edge of the viewfinder before he glanced away toward the flickering television.

“Well…” he said, trying, and failing, to sound casual. “We did say next time.”

He looked back at you then, blue eyes looking more hopeful than he’d wanted to let on, his lip curving by the slightest when he saw you looking back. Tempted, wanting, unsure..

“And we’ve got a few shots left.”

Kat’s hand smacked lightly against Bobby’s chest, curled around him from his other side.

“Unless you… want to?”

She couldn’t quite hide the smile pulling at her mouth, strands of hair falling into her face as the pair of them looked at you. Neither of them pushed. The question settled softly between the three of you, wrapped up in incense smoke and television static and the warmth of sharing a couch long after whatever movie had been playing stopped mattering.

“Kat we’ve been through this..”

She knew it, all of you did. It was a yes. Everything said it. You’d known it the first time she snuck kisses your way, the way you orbited each other and the way they both held you days ago at the store.

“My turn this time..” Her lips found yours first, reaching over Bobby between you just to hold your face in her hands. Wet muscle poked at your mouth, running and tracing across the plumpness of your lip. Her fingers tangled into your hair, stroking her thumb at the apple of your cheek before tugging you downward.

Your back pressed into the worn plush cushions of the couch as she moved over you, all of you silently thanking the fact it curved into an l-shape and somehow fit all three of you on, tangled limbs and all.

Her knee slotted between your legs, the skin rubbing into the fabric of your pants. Bobby watched you both patiently, sliding to the other end to give you room, a shaky breath leaving his lips at the sight.

Her tongue slipped inside of your mouth, pressing it further open, hands sliding down your sides urging you to sit up onto the armrest. They worked together then, kneeling over you as their hands trailed your waist, rising where the other one fell. Careful fingers adored your skin, tracing the curves as you breathed right between them. Kat took off your jeans, tugging the fabric down your legs inch by inch, and Bobby took your shirt, rising it over your arms until you sat there bare.

The cool air kissed your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling as Kat’s mouth left yours and trailed lower. She pushed your thighs apart with firm hands, kissing down while her eyes gazed up into yours. Bobby stayed close at your side, kneeling where she settled over your aching heat, his fingers brushing your breasts.

Kat’s breath ghosted over your pussy first, hot and teasing, before her tongue dragged a slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit. She moaned against you, tasting you with a torturous slowness, sealing her lips around the swollen bud. Her tongue flicked fast, circling and sucking through your folds, scissoring two of her fingers to slide around them, curling deep against your g spot.

Your hips rocked against her face, and she devoured you with an eager hunger, swirling her tongue until slick began to coat her chin, dripping from her lips with your sweetness.

Bobby watched every movement, his cock already hard and flushed, shorts shoved down to his knees. “That’s it babe, get her dripping for me,” he rasped, one hand stroking himself lazily.

Kat pulled back only when your thighs started to tremble, reluctant with her lips shining. She licked her lips, savouring you on her tongue as she nodded toward Bobby with a flushed smirk.

“Okay, up you get baby..” Bobby patted his thighs, shorts bunched at his knees as he moved to lay long ways shamelessly across the whole length of the cushions.

You swung your leg over Bobby’s lap, both of them watching with dark, hungry eyes. His hands gripped your hips as you lowered yourself, the thick head of his cock nudging your soaked entrance. A hand reached at your legs, slyly picking up the camera where he’d placed it onto the other armrest earlier.

It switched back on with the familar whirring sound, the faint glow of the screen lighting up Bobby’s face flushed and tranced. He let the camera find all three of you and focus just as you sank down onto him slowly, taking inch by inch until your ass met his thighs and he filled you completely.

“Look at you.. both of you fuck.” The blinking red flicked up with a stutter, his hand slotted carefully inside of the wrap, drawing your bodies into view.

“So lucky.”

The recording picked up where Kat moved behind you, kneeling close so the peaks of her hard breasts pressed to your back. One arm wrapped around your waist while her other hand slipped down between your legs. Her fingers found your clit, rubbing teasing, tight circles as you started to move. “Ride him just like that,” she whispered against your ear, voice low and encouraging. “Nice and deep. Feel how full he makes you.”

You rolled your hips, Bobby’s cock dragging against your walls with every rise and fall of his arms coaxing you. And Kat’s fingers didn’t stop, they were relentless, rubbing your clit in time with your rhythm while her free hand slid down to her own pussy. She spread her legs wider behind you and pushed two fingers inside herself, fucking them in and out with wet sounds that matched the slap of your skin against Bobby’s.

“Faster,” Kat coached, her breath hot on your neck. “Make him feel how tight you are. How good you feel..” Her fingers worked faster on your clit, thumbing it until your head fell back to her shoulder, her own moans bitten into the sides of your neck when her own fingers curled inside her. Bobby’s grip tightened on your hips, thrusting up to meet you as Kat’s touch pushed you closer to the edge, the three of you moving together in a wanton, desperate rhythm.

“So good.. so good for us.”

Sweat beaded over Bobby’s forehead, sticking tacky to skin where you all rocked together. His hand stoked at Kat’s thigh, soothing circles across the skin just as he did for you, her lops reaching and kissing up the back of your neck. Your back arched in their hold, folded between them in heat and lust, taking all of him as he fucked himself deeper.

“Our girl hm? Want to remember this.. want to..” The camera seems to cut just where he captures the wrecked look on your faces, it slipping from his grip where his own greed tightens. The need too much, the control slipping, and it fell helplessly with a bounce onto the blanket.

His hands clamped tighter at your hips where they’re were free, fingers digging in just at the hipbones to draw you closer, dragging you down so hard as he fucked into you. Your clit grazed the base of his cock, the few golden hairs rubbing at your clenching pussy.

The moan that left your lips was broken, tangled in a hungry desire. Kat swallowed it, and the answer that was left on your lips. Yes. Your bodies bunched together as he sat up, his torso rising into yours as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, teeth grazing over your sternum. His arm reached out for you both, hugging around you as far as he managed to draw you closer and closer to that peak you were chasing.

Your breaths mingled, mouth parted slack in pants and moans just along with the haze in the room.

Bobby’s hips snapped up harder, driving his cock deep with every thrust as your walls fluttered around him. Kat’s fingers rubbed frantic circles over your clit, her own soaked pussy clenching around the two digits she pumped inside herself. Her moans grew louder against your ear, turning into broken whines when her orgasm hit, body jerked bonelessly behind you.

Her thighs shook from underneath you as wetness coated her hand, her hips driving into the flesh of your ass as she came undone.

Bobby growled low in his chest and sat up fast, one thick arm stretching as far as it could to pull both of you tight against him. His lips latching onto a nipple as he sucked hard, the sudden closeness pushing you over the edge. Your pussy clamped down around his cock in heavy pulses that wracked your whole body into a shiver, Kat’s fingers working on your clit to urge you through it.

He groaned against your breast, each thrust turning sloppy as he chased his own high, pulling from you with a careful tug as thick ropes of cum spilt hot across your lower belly and the top of your cunt. Kat’s hand slowed on your clit, her own orgasm still rippling through her as she pressed messy kisses to the side of your neck. His cock twitched leaking onto his stomach, and the three of you made no attempt to move, staying locked together, breathing hard, skin slick and spent.

“Fuck.. wish we caught all of that on tape.” Bobby huffed out, raking a hand through his hair.

“Be grateful for what you got..” Kat breathed, eyes focusing as she eased herself, embracing you closer from behind.

“Hey.. no complaints here.” He held his hands up.

But you didn’t argue after that. Because after all his crudeness, all of you knew it was true. The same words repeating over and over that both of them had whispered and spoken into your ear.

Our girl, our girl, our girl..

Kat’s body sagged into yours, soothing at your arms as Bobby did the same at your middle, rubbing small circles across the skin until your breaths mingled once more, this time eased..

And you were lost in it, completely.

So lost in it, you couldn’t hear the pounding from the door on the outside. Not until the blinds peeked open. And a tapping on the window had you shifting.

—

Heavy knocking came from the door. Once, then twice, and again. Somehow you’d managed to ignore it for as long as you could, curled up and collapsed into eachother onto the couch, for what felt like only minutes.

Before you really had no choice.

Kat moved from behind you, stepping swiftly into the bathroom, securing a towel for you as you shrugged the rest of your clothes back on, her own being thrown back on instantly. The large t-shirt she’d pulled from the closet covering nearly her entire body. Bobby took the slow approach, shoving his shorts back on with a groan before standing, his bare chest flexed in the low light.

And then the door swung open, sunlight blinding the apartment as you and Bobby squinted to see who it was.

“Captain Clark..?”

Bobby leant onto the doorway, holding the door with the other as you came into view behind him.

And it was him.. their manager. Clark. He looked dumbfounded, taking the pair of you in as his face remained flat, almost apologetic.

“Kat..” Bobby called out. No answer. You looked down the corridor, hearing her fumble with the rest of her clothes and smoothing down her hair.

“KAT!” He called louder that time.

“I’m coming.” Her voice shouted down the doorway before piling in beside you both, her arm curling at your waist.

“I need that camera.. do you have that camera?..”

Clark eyed the three of you, offering an eager smile, one that left you all confused, rocking back onto your heels on anticipation. And the highs you’re all desperately attempting to hide. Though from the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, you supposed he wouldn’t have noticed.

“For what..?” Kat questions calmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

There’s a pause then between all of you, his eyes darting around as you just stand there.

“Research.”

Kat’s eyes found yours, then Bobby’s, and then back to Clark’s where all of you glanced at him wide eyed.

Bobby spoke up, nodding slowly with his fingers tapping on the wood of the door.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you might want to uh.. just don’t click anything.”

But he had explained that he’d need their help for it, it wasn’t a one man job, and that Bobby could hold onto the camera, seen as he’d be the one using it. Not Clark.

“Oh and bring your friend too. We’ll need all the help we can get.” He called out lastly, before turning from the doorway with a short, hopeful smile.

Leaving you all to question one thing.