"Your lady longs for you so much that you're sending a second letter this fortnight, Ser Gwayne?"

And the Hightower heir can sense the slight dissatisfaction beneath Ser Criston's tone, but he does not dwell upon it. Only smiles, nodding. "Yes, Ser. My lady worries, for her heart is pure and sensible. I must do what I can to quell her doubt of any mishaps that might've befallen me."

"Ah, of course. A most dutiful husband you are, Ser."

It isn't until their troops inevitably need to fall back to Oldtown two moons later that Gwayne gets to see his sweet lady wife again.

You've been waiting for this moment for so long, your heart hammering into your chest like a bird's wings as you see your husband's horse trot through the gates.

No one and nothing matters when you finally are cradled in Gwayne's arms, pressed to his steel-clad chest, sweet nothings whispered against your temple as your man peppers your warm skin with kisses of tenderness and longing.

Ser Criston looks away from the sight, scoffing. He knew the acclaimed Hightower heir was good for nothing but sweet presses of lips and warm embraces. Not even a kiss on the lips when greeting his lady wife? He should be ashamed to not bestow such gifts upon a gorgeous creature such as you.

Later, when the crowd had thinned and most knights were off to their sleeping arrangements, the Commander had to do one last search of their horses and supplies before calling it a night as well.

What Cole didn't think to find in the stables was Gwayne, on his knees, head squeezed between your thighs as he feasted on your cunt, moaning like a man starved, the sound muffled by the folds of your pussy.

The sight stopped Ser Criston dead in his tracks.

Ser Gwayne. Pious, dutiful, ever devoted to the faith, now sitting in the same position one would for prayer, but using his mouth not to plead to the Gods, but to bring his lady pleasure.

And what immense pleasure he did bring, for your hands were fisted in his auburn hair, tugging with intent, the demand for more crystal clear. You wanted more, smushing the knight into your heat, hips grinding against his face with abandon as you whined, trying to quiet the volume of your wantonness with your hand pressed to your mouth, but it was in vain. Nothing felt as good as your husband's tongue between your legs, only second to the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes, yes, my love, yes," fell from your ruddy lips, eyes glistening with unshed tears from how good Gwayne was making you feel. "I missed your mouth greatly," you lilted, fingers unrelenting as they weaved through your husband's hair, offering him respite from your rough insistence, petting him as you would an obedient hound as he continued to circle his tongue against your hole, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit. "Couldn't wait until we were together anew, husband."

All you got in return was another moan, unbashed and wet from the slick of your cunt against Gwayne's mouth, your words spurring him on, broad palms smoothing up your thighs to lift your skirts higher, bunching them at the waist, held in his fists. "My sweet wife," he babbled, flattening his tongue from hole to clit, parting your folds on the ascent. "The moons without your cunt have been dreadful," your knight says, words woven around a whine, lapping at the peeking nub between every word, kindling the heat in your lower belly. "Not being able to taste you each morrow left me wanting, even in times of battle and bloodshed."

Oh, what a debauched picture that was. Your dutiful husband, ever present when called to arms, thinking about worshipping between your legs as he swung his sword, falling enemies and stealing breath after breath from steel-clad men. The thought made you shiver, brushing auburn hair from Gwayne's temples to get a good look at those baby blues you so cherished, a dopey smile onto your lips as you whispered. "You must be cautious, my love," you chastised, albeit tenderly, running your fingers through his hair to soothe, hoping the ache for you had dwindled, if only a little. "Such thoughts might distract you, and then you might not come back to me."

Gwayne shook his head swiftly upon hearing your reprimand, leaning into your touch as a flower moves towards the sun, soaking up all its warmth down to the marrow. "Never," he protested, eyes widening, ever eager to prove his devotion to you. "I shall never fall to another man's sword, if it meant not seeing you again, sweetling," and he turns his face towards one of your palms, pressing a searing kiss upon the skin as he whispers. "That is my solemn vow."

You feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest and splatter at your husband's feet from the earnestness of his promise, weaving warmth along your body, from your head down to your toes, a full-body gratefulness at having such allegiance offered to you.

"A vow you had upheld valiantly, my love," you praise, your hand shifting to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing against the plump of his bottom lip as you slowly tug him down, back towards your cunt, to which he allows without resistance. "One for which you shall have the prize you so dreamt of, even in bloodshed."

Gwayne's tongue lolls out as you guide his head, eager to have you on his palate again, eyes fluttering shut as the sweet musk of your pussy becomes more potent. It coaxed him to dip his chin so he could press his nose in damp curls and inhale deeply, exhaling a punched-out groan, as if he had forgotten the smell of you in the mere moments that had passed since he'd been tongue deep between your thighs.

"This cunt is a gift from the Gods, sweetling," he praises, mouth open and panting against your folds, just breathing you in lungful by lungful. "I wish I could have it with me on campaign," Gwayne continues, white-knuckling the skirts bunched at your waist, as if the imagery of such a thing wounds him. "Feast on it from morrow to dawn. Allow you to have my tongue whenever you please, my love."

You cannot help but moan at such a confession, fingers returning to his auburn strands to grip and tug, eliciting a muffled whine from your husband, whose tongue dipped between your folds anew, flicking at your clit on the upstroke, knowing how much you favoured it. "You're so good to me, husband," you coo, lips curling into a loving smile, holding your knight still by his hair as your hips resume their grinding, humping against Gwayne's awaiting tongue, using him for your pleasure.

And he loves it. Gods, does he love it. Blue eyes half-lidded, heated with love and lust as he only gives you more of it, poking his tongue as far as it would go for you to rub your clit against, moaning with each movement of your hips, bringing you even closer by the grip on your skirts.

"Oh, my sweet husband," you moan, feeling the heat tingling up your spine and pooling low in your belly with each wet swipe against your clit. "I can't wait to have your cock as well." The words are the opposite of pious, not at all what a lady wife should offer her betrothed, but you are past caring. "For your mouth feels heavenly, and still, I cannot wait to feel you inside me again."

The words melt and light Gwayne in equal measure, feeling his cock strain even harder against his breeches, hips kicking, rubbing himself along the seam of his pants in anticipation of what's to come. He nods, the motion making his tongue rub in rapid succession along your clit, the stimulation so delicious it makes you cry out, wanton and unbashed. Words fail him, the only thing that matters now being making you cum so he can sheathe himself into your pussy and have you milk him for all he's worth, like a prized stallion made for breeding.

It doesn't take long for your back to arch off of the hay bale you are lounging upon, Gwayne's name on your lips, your juices flowing down his tongue and chin, which your husband laps greedily. He has to stop the grind of his hips to not cum into his breeches like an untrained squire, even if the friction of his hard cock against the material of his pants feels heavenly.

He knows your pussy surpasses that by the thousands, which is why he forces himself to still the pathetic humping of his hips. It's only moments now until he'll be inside you, letting you catch your breath, pressing sweet, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs and behind your knees as he massages the muscle there, willing you pliant and lax for what's to come. "Thank you, sweetling. Gods, so pretty for me," he whispers against warm skin, reverent and grateful, mouth still wet with your slick. "Missed you so much. Never want to be away from you again. Never, never—"

Perhaps it's safe to assume that Ser Criston Cole will not utter a word about Gwayne and his lack of prowess anytime soon, after what he witnessed tonight.

he’d attempt to bury himself so far inside, as deep as it can go,, to the point that you forget your own name. his cock pounds against your dripping cunt so pleasantly as if he were pussy starved; every thrust hitting & angling just right to hit that one spot that makes your back arch—the only thing spurring from your lips abruptly, is his name each time his shaft hits your sensitive spot. you can feel the way his cock throbs inside you, stretching you open a bit more with every push.

jace gets loud in the process... too loud, at times, should i say. groans, curses under his breath in high valyrian, he whimpers your name like a prayer when your walls tightly clench around his twitching cock. but can you blame him? because i believe that with the way this man would pound your cunt just so vigorously, it would be a little bit of an impossible task not to shout, rather than simply moan, his name... and those sweet, sweet sounds that escape from you, his queen, at the pleasure you receive from him only serves to boost his confidence, and that inner freaky jace he’s in him. jacaerys would be obsessed with your pleasure, with your physical reactions as he fucks the life out of you—often changing positions in the process to maintain the spiciness and pound against you in every possible angle known to man.

he’ll lean down to nibble on the skin of your neck and breasts with his teeth, enough to leave marks on you, while he continues to pound harder and deeper into you. if you tell him you want it faster, he’ll give it to you until you’re shaking, barely able to sputter a coherent phrase and failing in the attempt—if you ask him to go slower and gentler, his entire mood shifts to abide to whatever orders you give him; becoming that sweet, softer jace you usually know... and if you ask him to choke you just a little, his hand will wrap around your throat with a perfect pressure as his lips guide themselves to groan against your own, kissing you in a filthy, desperate manner; knowing exactly how to move his hips to hit those spots he know they make you tremble, holding a tight grip on your hips to keep you in your place.

but even in the middle of all that intensity, he’s still your sweet, gentlemanly jace. between thrusts he’ll whisper filthy praises against your skin, checking occassionally if it’s too much, or not enough. jacaerys lives for the moment your eyes roll back and your walls flutter around his cock, often spurting your own fluids against his size and the bedsheets, and he’ll keep fucking you through your orgasm—drawing it out until you’re shaking and crying from how good it feels. when he finally comes, which of course he would prioritise your own orgasm before his own, it’s with a guttural moan; hips stuttering as he spills his warm seed deep inside you, eating your lips out in a sloppy kiss in the process. don’t be surprised if he has a thing to leave his cum on several parts of your body, and is up to several rounds throughout the night.

afterwards? after all that intensity, all that freakiness? oohh, he’s the softest. cleaning you up very gently, kissing every mark he left on your delicate skin, holding you close, cuddling you tightly against his body while murmuring just how much he adores you with the deepest fibre of his soul—how perfect you are, how he’d burn the world for you.

aaaahh... i think that, at the end of the day, jacaerys doesn’t just fuck you—he worships you with his entire body until you forget every name... except his own, of course. and God only knows i could never shut up about jacaerys and his intensity during sex just to pleasure you to the core.

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He opens the door in less than ten seconds.

Aemond stands in front of you, dressed in a black hoodie and dark sweatpants like he’d been up already—like he knew you were coming.

His long hair is pulled back in a low bun, and his eye blinks at you, calmly. Before he can say a word, you shove your phone in his face.

“Did you know about this?”

The video begins playing automatically, the one someone had sent you just minutes ago with no context other than the curt message sent alongside it: Watch.

It was filmed at some typical frat house party—bad lighting, beer pong, some idiot yelling about a keg stand in the background. But then the camera zooms in, and suddenly it focuses on Aegon—your boyfriend—pressed up against a wall, devouring the mouth of a girl who was definitely not you. Her hands were in his hair and his were on her waist, clearly having been making out for quite some time.

Aemond’s lip curl. He doesn’t look one bit surprised at the contents of the video.

“I hope you’re not pissed at me.” He steps back, motioning you inside. “This is the first time I’m seeing this.”

You stomp past him. “Well, congratulations. That makes one of us.”

Aemond shuts the door behind you. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to vent before I hit you with an ‘I told you so.’”

You whirl around. “Not funny.”

“What’s not funny is you still staying with him after the first two times he cheated on you.”

“That’s low.” You cross your arms.

“It’s honest.”

You scowled. “You always do this. Act like you’re better than him just because you read depressing Russian novels and listen to music nobody’s ever heard of.”

“I am better than him,” Aemond replies smoothly. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

You’re quiet as his words hit you. You’re more embarrassed than you want to admit at allowing yourself to look like a fool over and over again. “I thought he could change.”

“He’s a Targaryen. We don’t just change.”

You flop onto his couch with a groan. Aemond sits across from you, his eyes never leaving your face as if waiting to calculate your next move. Your phone is still playing the video, each loop of it adding to your rage and helping you concoct your next plan of action. “I’m done with him. Officially.”

He raises a brow. “Really?”

“Yes.” You sit up, emboldened. “I want revenge.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches. “Good,” he says. “I’m in. What do you want it to do? Make him jealous? Make him regret his life choices? Public humiliation?”

You turn to him. “That easy? Even though he’s your brother?”

He scoffs. “He’s also an asshole. Wouldn’t mind seeing him get a taste of his own medicine. “

“A taste of his own medicine…” You mull over his words. Aegon was always the one going out, flirting and hooking up with other girls, leaving you humiliated. You needed to humiliate him in the same exact way—but you can go even lower than that.

Especially with his brother right across from you, whose eyes haven’t left you.

“Aemond…” you start, your voice low, seductive. You pull yourself up from the couch and saunter to him. He watches you as if you were a piece of moving artwork. “I have an idea that might make him really mad.”

You seat yourself in his lap and his hand comes up to wrap around your waist.

His lip quirks up. “It’s about time you realized who the better brother was.”

You roll your eyes. “Have you been waiting for me to get cheated on a third time so you could say this?”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “No. I was hoping it’d only take two.”

You laugh, amused, and he leans closer, the movement so small you could call it incidental, but the air between you tightens. His face is inches from yours, his eye dropping down to your lips and back up to your face in a second, but you still catch the action.

You lower your voice when you speak again. “How mad would Aegon be if I fucked you right here?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Really fucking mad.”

“Good,” you reply, and then you’re leaning in to kiss him.

Your lips meet his with deliberate force, close-mouthed at first. His lips are surprisingly soft, and he slides his hand from your waist to your lower back, anchoring you.

Aemond tilts his head, deepening the kiss in a way that feels like a challenge. You melt into it, your anger and embarrassment from being constantly cheated on being blunted by the surge of heat from being wanted.

Unnoticed by you, Aemond’s hand moves with practiced ease, his fingers gliding into the seam of his hoodie pocket, thumb brushing the edge of his phone. In one subtle movement, the screen lights up, the camera opens, and the red record button begins to glow.

You don’t notice. Not at first.

You’re too caught up in him, in his mouth on yours, slow and coaxing, his thumb brushing the back of your neck in a way that feels surprisingly tender. You’re not thinking right now, you’re reacting. Letting your frustration and betrayal pour out through every kiss, every touch.

Then his lips drag down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him better access, and that’s when you see it.

Balanced on the armrest of the couch lies Aemond’s phone, angled perfectly towards you both. Recording.

You jerk back slightly, fisting a hand in his hoodie and pushing at his chest. “Aemond. What the hell?”

He doesn’t move much, just lifts his head, his gaze calm.

Your voice comes sharper now. “Are you recording us right now?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? Without telling me?” You lean over and tap the circle button, ending the recording.

“I was going to,” he replies, like this is a normal conversation. “Just…” his lips return to your neck. “After.”

You gape at him, but he’s completely unbothered, no panic or guilt found in him. There’s just calm, unreadable Aemond with his hair messed up and his hands still loosely on your waist as he nips at your throat.

“You can’t just do that,” you snap. “That’s—”

“Exactly what Aegon deserves,” he interrupts, voice low.

You freeze. Aemond’s gaze is steady and calculating.

“You came here because you wanted revenge. Something he’d never forget. Something that would ruin him the way he ruined you.”

You don’t answer.

“You said you were done playing nice.” His voice softens, but there’s still an edge to it. “So let’s stop playing.”

You glance back at the phone, angled towards you.

“We’ll send it to him,” Aemond says quietly. “And he’s going to watch every single second of it.”

You swallow.

“He doesn’t care about a fight,” Aemond adds. “He doesn’t care about guilt or lectures or ultimatums. But this?” He gestures between you, eyes burning into yours. “He cares about his ego. He’ll care about this.”

You’re silent for a long moment as you ponder his words. 

You think of Aegon. The video someone sent you tonight. The girl in his arms. The way it hurt—again—like you were stupid for believing this time would be different.

Your eyes meet Aemond’s.

There’s something dangerous behind his gaze. A quiet hunger that’s not just for you, but for revenge, too. 

He waits for what you’ll say, unmoving.

But you don’t respond in words. Instead, you pull your sweater over your head and unclip your bra in one fell swoop.

For the first time that night, you catch a glint of surprise in Aemond’s face. His breath hitches as his gaze travels down to your bare breasts, nipples harden from exposure to the cool air.

His cock twitches underneath you and you smirk, grinding on his lap.

“I’ll start recording when I want to,” you murmur.

Aemond nods once. “Deal.”

“I’ll stop recording when I feel like it.”

“Okay.”

“And as soon as the video’s sent, you delete all traces of it.”

There’s a pause. “Of course.”

You study him a second longer, and then reach down his sweatpants, palming at his erection, your other hand moving back to his hair. He captures your lips, kissing you even deeper than before. The two of you grind against each other, moaning as your clothed pussy hits against his member that strains against its confines. 

“Fuck,” Aemond groans under his breath as you begin to pull down his bottoms. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. The tip is angry and red, and you begin to tease it with small strokes that has Aemond bucking into your touch. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say plainly.

Aemond stills briefly, expression darkening before he starts shoving down your shorts, your panties coming off with it. His hand finds your bare pussy and you gasp as he starts rubbing on your clit.

He takes that opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, dominating the kiss as you both get each other off. Your nails dig into his shoulder with one hand, the other still jerking him off, squeezing him as your hand moves up and down, getting slick with his precum.

Aemond is the one to finally break away, panting as saliva still connects you two. “Need to be inside you.”

You nod jerkily, hips still grinding into his hand. He begins to line his cock up with your hole, the head teasing your lips, before you snap back to reality.

“Shit,” you hiss, realizing that you came over with just your phone, wallet, and keys, your purse and its other contents left strewn over your counter back at your apartment. “You have a condom?”

Aemond pauses for a moment. You think he’s about to tell you no until he speaks up. 

“Ever let Aegon in raw?”

You blink in surprise, pulling back a little to look at him.

“...No.” You respond hesitantly. Despite him begging you constantly, that was the one thing that you refused to compromise on. “I’m not that stupid.”

Aemond hums against your skin, sounding almost approvingly. “You should let me do it.”

“Yeah right,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

He doesn’t seem rattled by your comment. Instead, he responds quickly, as if he was expecting it. 

“Just think about how mad it would make him.” His hands come up to knead your breasts, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as his thumbs ghost over your nipples. 

You let his words sink in. He was right, of course; it would make Aegon mad.

Aemond interrupts your thoughts as he nibbles on your throat. “Imagine his face,” he starts between his kissing and sucking, slowly moving up to your ear, “seeing you bouncing on my cock, so easily able to get the one thing you’ve withheld from him all this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you don’t need any more convincing. “Yeah. Okay. Yes,” you breathe, distracted by his touch.

“There we go,” he murmurs, and without wasting another second Aemond pushes himself inside of you.

“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes and basking in the way the ruts up into you, hands anchoring onto him. Your ass slaps against him with the force of his thrusts, and his hands lower to squeeze the flesh.

“Yeah,” you hear Aemond mumble under his breath. His grip on your ass tightens. “Knew you’d be perfect.”

You clench around him, opening your eyes again and suddenly being pulled back as you spot Aemond’s phone sitting on the couch arm.

“Wait, wait,” you mutter between gasps, leaning over and fumbling for the device.

Aemond doesn’t stop thrusting as you fumble to open the camera; rather, it just seems to excite him, pawing at the rippling flesh of your ass and leaning back as he watches, entranced, at the way your pussy swallows up his cock with every thrust. 

Switching the camera to the video setting, you start the recording.

The video starts with your face. You smirk directly into the lens, confidence burning bright.

“Hey, Aegon,” you say sweetly, tilting your head. “Hope that girl from the party was worth it.”

You pan the camera over slightly while you shift in Aemond’s lap, bouncing up and down on his cock as his hands settle at your hips like it’s second nature. You lean in closer to Aemond, lips a breath apart.

“Because your brother?” you add, voice smooth, “kisses way better.”

Then you kiss him again, sloppier this time, with more than enough heat to make your point. Aemond leans into it, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist possessively as he rocks you back and forth onto his cock. You moan into the kiss as he bullies his tongue into your mouth, your mind practically going blank with pleasure. He kisses you like he’s been dying to for years, and you let him, playing up your moans for the video.

Just before you pull back, you smile into the kiss, letting it linger. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you face the camera again, hair a little mussed, and lips swollen and red.

“Oh,” you say innocently, biting your lip. “His cock is also way bigger than yours.”

You gasp sharply as Aemond jerks up onto you, fingers digging into your skin as he controls the way your hips fuck into him.

You shakily adjust the angle of the camera downwards so that the screen shows where you’re connected, the unmistakable image of you riding Aemond front and center.

“Fuck!” you cry as Aemond pistons himself deeper into you, his cock hitting places never touched before. Your walls close around him, as if molding themselves to the shape of his cock.

You lean forward into Aemond as he furiously ruts into you, seeming to move faster and more aggressively with every thrust, spurred on by the recording. Your eyes roll back and you aren’t sure if the video is even in focus anymore.

“And you know what?” you continue, breathing ragged. “I’m gonna let him cum inside of my pussy, just like you’ve been begging to for years.”

You squeak as Aemond bites your shoulder, his cock twitching inside of you as he takes in your words.

You giggle maniacally, drunk off of the teasing. “I didn’t need much convincing once I saw his cock.”

Aemond grunts beneath you and you gasp as warmth fills you, his semen releasing in thick spurts inside of you, the excess seeping out of you as Aemond pulls out before thrusting back in. His long fingers snake down to play with your clit, rubbing it furiously as your walls contract around him rapidly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly as you see stars behind your eyelids, body jolting as your peak hits and your juices flow out of you, soaking both Aemond’s and your thighs.

Your mind drifts away from the recording, but before either of you can end it Aemond smirks, finally speaking up—the first time since you began filming.

“Thank you, Aegon. You’ve helped me more than you could know.”

You’re still reeling, coming down from the high of your orgasm, too dazed to process Aemond’s words before he stops the video.

His hand rubs against your back soothingly as you try to steady your breathing, and with his other hand he deftly sends the video to Aegon and then stores it in a backup folder, quickly locking his phone and tossing it across the couch cushions.

“You sent it?” you ask, face buried in his neck.

“Yes.”

“Deleted it?”

His hand almost falters, but he catches himself. “I promised you I would, didn’t I?”

You hum approvingly, leaning into his touch.

There’s a pleasant silence as Aemond holds you before your voice breaks it. “Thanks for being here, Aemond. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

"Of course," he says softly. “I’m always here for you.”

You smile up at him and plant a kiss onto his jaw, tired but trusting.

As you cuddle into him he leans back into the couch, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen as he observes your naked reflection in its darkness. A reflection of everything he’s claimed.

Your revenge was raw, emotional, in the heat of the moment.

But Aemond’s? His was quiet. Methodical. Thought out, every step planned.

It was easy for him, sneaking into that frat party, slipping a drunk freshman a crisp 20 dollar bill to seduce Aegon, filming and sending it to you through a burner phone. You fell right into his trap, and he couldn’t be any more satisfied.

You kiss him again, and Aemond knows he’s won.

And his revenge? It was so, so sweet.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a golden-pink haze over the scattered buildings of King’s Landing.

The heat of the day, once stifling and sharp, mellowed into a tepid warmth that clung to the stone streets and rooftops. 

From the bay, sea winds rolled inland, cool and briny, teasing through the open archways of the Red Keep. 

In the high halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, the air held the faint linger of roast meat and summerwine, now grown stale with tension.

It was the hour of the bat, when shadows stretched long and torchlight flickered in golden sconces. 

Supper had almost come to a close, mercifully. What should have been a warm family gathering was nothing more than a tightly choreographed farce. Each smile was painted on, every word a cut disguised as civility.

Your jaw still ached from how tightly you'd been clenching it.

King Viserys had sat at the head of the table, trying, desperately, to pretend that all was well. But the rot in the family tree was painfully obvious.

Your mother, seated with the stiffness of a queen forced to endure, barely looked up from her plate. 

Across from you sat your uncle, Aemond, so still he might’ve been carved from ice, save for the occasional flick of his eye toward you. You couldn’t have been put in a worse seat.

Forced to face the boy you were taught to hate, now a man.

You didn’t look at him. Not directly. But you felt him. That infuriating calm. That knowing smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth every time you bit your tongue.  

The silent dare in the single eye that always found yours. He sought a fight, any excuse to break you, or your brothers. However, you didn’t. 

Determined to stay polite, to please the king. And follow the ladylike, dutiful script your mother had perfectly laid out for you. No, your uncle would not win tonight. It would only give him a reason to hurt your brothers. 

Still, every time you met his- eye. Something other than hate lurked beneath the surface.

He had very much become a man, no longer the little boy that hid in the library to avoid his brother and nephews. 

You cursed yourself for letting your mind drift, wondering if he had grown the same lust and appetite as his brother. Just as another depraved thought started to form once more, his eye fell on you again.

Uncontrollable butterflies swirled in your belly, you felt entranced underneath his gaze. Heat spreads over your skin like fire. The air becoming too thick to swallow.

Quickly averting your eyes to the full plate in front of you, his gaze did not leave your body.

It would be impossible for him to read your mind, though you felt like he had. Like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if he had such thoughts about you as well. The idea made you blush.

You yourself had grown to become a woman, a princess. Many letters had fallen in your mothers lap, lords across the realm begging for your hand, your Valyrian blood.

Upon your arrival that early afternoon, having been welcomed by your family, and seeing your uncle for the first time after all those years, it was entirely a coincidence that you had chosen a more...mature dress for the evening.  

Maybe some part of you felt tempted to entice him, to gain his interest and attention. If you had been successful you could not tell, as such was his stoic and cold demeanour. 

Aemond would have never shown you how much you had affected him. How his fingers gripped his cup of wine with such strength, it almost broke under his grasp.

How with every shift in his seat, he could not tear his eyes away from your chest.

Anger rose within him every time you fluttered your innocent eyes at him. You somehow turned the man into a boy again, making him feel flustered and riled up from the smallest movements.

He hated himself for it, all these years he had perfected his training, his mastery over Vhagar, his High Valyrian. In every aspect his mother had finally seen him as perfect.

No one doubted the one-eyed prince any longer. 

Even his brother had left him alone, and now here you were. His little niece, ready to ruin everything he had worked so hard on.

With the way your breath hitched when his gaze fell on you, how your lips brushed the cup in your hand when you took a sip. 

Every time you leaned forward to pick at your plate, he got a perfect view of your tits.

It all distracted him from his initial plan. He was so eager to get a chance at putting the strong boys in their place, but their big sister had wrecked it all.

Aemond hadn’t felt this relieved in a long time, at last supper was over and everyone was allowed to retire to their chambers. His eyes kept following your form, even when he tried so hard to pull away.

He didn’t like it, didn’t like how you made him feel. Vulnerable. Weak. Restless. 

He was glad when you both left the room and parted ways. Aemond headed towards his bedchamber, his own space where nobody could touch him, where nobody looked at him.

It was too early to head out yet, too busy in the streets. His brother too sober.

So he waited, and waited, until he was sure everyone was asleep. And swiftly but quietly disappeared into the darkness of the night.

He had to satiate this hunger inside him, though when he arrived at madam Sylvi’s alcove, nothing she tried relieved him of his yearning.

His niece didn’t fare much better. 

Sleep did not come easily.

You tossed and turned beneath the silk sheets, your body restless, your mind unable to quiet.

When slumber finally claimed you, it was not the peaceful kind- it was the kind that teased and tormented. Dreams haunted you, vivid and visceral.

Aemond’s hands, those long, veined hands, touched your skin like they owned it. His smirk, sharp and maddening, tugged at your mind. 

His silver hair, like your own, fell across his cheekbones as he leaned closer. You dreamed of his mouth, possessive and greedy against yours, of his breath mixing with yours in the dark.

You woke with a gasp, skin damp with sweat, sheets twisted around your legs. The sky outside your windows had only just begun to lighten, but the rising heat of the summer sun left no room for comfort.

Sleep would not return.

With a sigh, you slipped from the bed and called for your maids. There was no use lingering in your chambers, not when your thoughts were already betraying you.

They dressed you in cool silks, braided your hair, and left you to your own devices.

The Red Keep was still, hushed in the early hour, the courtiers slow to rise. That silence emboldened you.

You mounted your dragon and soared into the skies, chasing the winds and shaking the memory of him from your bones, if only for a little while.

By the time you returned, sweat clung to your back beneath your bodice, but the wildness in your chest had calmed. A tray of fruit and bread awaited you in your chambers, alongside a steaming bath drawn with herbs and rose petals. 

You slipped into it gratefully, eyes fluttering shut, Aemond’s face still lingering somewhere behind your lids.

The morning passed quietly, and though the solitude had been welcome at first, by afternoon, it began to press in. You needed distraction, conversation, company, anything to ground you back into the present.

So you wandered into the gardens, where the ladies of court had already taken refuge from the heat. You joined them, half-listening as they prattled on about fabrics and feasts, until the topic turned.

They spoke of you now.

Of how many suitors had come to Dragonstone. Of how each lord had attempted, and failed, to win your favor.

You offered little in return, but the laughter among them grew, amused by your restraint, impressed by your influence.

As the sun began to dip low once more, you were summoned for supper.

Dread curled low in your stomach.

You weren’t sure if you could bear sitting across from Aemond again, not with the memories of your dream still simmering beneath your skin.

The way he had looked at you last night, as though he could see straight through you. As though he wanted to.

You told yourself you didn’t crave his approval.

But you were lying.

You didn’t want his kindness, or his favor. You wanted his attention. His focus. His desire. And after the night you’d spent tangled in arousing dreams, you could no longer pretend otherwise.

What you didn’t know was that elsewhere in the Red Keep, your name was already being whispered in the hallways.

He moved through the halls with practiced grace, his steps measured, until the fluttering whispers of ladies caught his ear. They didn’t see him approaching- at least not until it was too late.

“…they say yet another lord rode to Dragonstone last month. Thought she’d say yes, but she sent him off with barely a word-”

“He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last. She’s turning them all down.”

“She must be waiting for someone better…”

Their giggles turned to stunned silence as Aemond passed them, his lone eye fixed straight ahead. But they had said enough.

His jaw clenched.

It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care.

But he did.

Anger coiled in his gut- jealousy, too, bitter and hot. The idea of those men- weak, simpering lords, daring to think they had a claim to you made his blood run cold.

Yet there was a strange satisfaction as well.

You hadn’t accepted any of them.

He tried to push the thoughts away, bury them beneath cold logic. But the moment he nearly collided with you in the corridor on your way to supper, all sense fled.

You froze for a heartbeat as your eyes locked.

Your breath caught.

His did too.

Without a word, he stepped back and gestured for you to pass first, as etiquette demanded. His head dipped slightly, but his gaze lingered long after you moved by.

When he entered the dining hall, he chose a seat farther from yours this time, perhaps in an effort to compose himself. Distance would quiet the storm inside him, or so he hoped.

But tonight, it was you who stared.

He felt your gaze as surely as if your hands were on him. You tried to be subtle, sipping your wine and lowering your lashes, but he caught you, again and again.

And when he did, your cheeks turned pink.

It filled him with something strange, something powerful.

Desire, yes.

But more than that, confidence.

The ladies of court often stared at him too, but when he met their eyes, they averted theirs in fear. His scar, his silence, his reputation… they saw him as something to avoid.

But you?

You looked at him like you wanted to know what lay beneath the cold.

It made him feel good, desired even.

He wanted to chase that feeling, perhaps he could make you feel good too.

That night, when the doors of his chamber closed behind him. A bath was waiting for him. Though there were no servants. 

He preferred to bathe alone, he didn’t need some stupid girls trembling hands to try to wash his hair.

He could do it himself.

Aemond was glad he was alone, for when he had rid himself of his clothes and stepped into the searing bath, his cock began to swell.

A sigh escaped his lips when he let himself fully sink into the water. When he closed his single eye, all he could see was you. Images of you filled his mind, they started off innocent, your smile, your sultry eyes, your silver locks. 

Then he thought about how you smelled, how warm your skin would be. But then it turned darker.

He thought about kissing your plump lips, about ripping that stupid dress open and freeing your tits. To suck and nip at them until you whined for him.

Subconsciously, his hand that rested beside him moments before, trailed up his thigh, teasing himself until he softly traced the length of his cock. 

A groan left Aemond as his hand wrapped around his shaft, embarrassment crept up on him as he allowed these thoughts of you to drive him to touch himself.

However, all shame left him once he began to tug at the soft skin. The hot water wrapped a cloak of steam around him, the water rippling with each movement of his hand.

A silent moan dragged out of him when he cupped his stones under the water.

Aemond planted his feet on the bottom of the copper bath as his knees rose above the water, his lust clouding his mind when he bucked up his hips in pleasure.

Just these depraved fantasies of you turned him on more than what madam Sylvi tried to do.

His cock ached for release, his skin damp with sweat and water combined. His one eye closed as the pleasure of his own hand consumed him.

As he pumped his cock faster, his lips parted and soft groans left his lips.

Flashes of your bare tits and your wet cunt wrapped around him drove him to the edge of release, precum releasing into the water as Aemond massaged his stones firmer. 

His hand and specifically his thumb focusing on his tip until his balls drew tight against his body- he was about to cum when a loud knock pulled him right out of it.

Of course now was the moment someone needed something of him, when he was fucking his fist to the thought of his niece.

Aemond, assuming it was Criston Cole as it usually was, called them in. 

“Come.” 

He called out from behind the screen that protected his naked body from the door. Though he made no move to get out of the bath to get dressed, his cock was still rock hard. He planned to get Cole out quickly so he could resume his- activities.

He couldn’t see who entered the room, but the soft and graceful footsteps did not match the weight of the armour of Cole. His mother perhaps? What awful timing she would have.

“Uncle?”

Aemond’s heart sank and he froze in the bath, gaze falling on his cock. Of all people to catch him in his depravity, it was her.

“Niece.” He stated, not wanting to tempt her to step beyond the screen. The thin feeble thing that shielded her innocent eyes from his naked frame.

“I did not realise you were... indisposed. Perhaps I’ll come back later-” 

He stopped you before you could turn back. 

“Perhaps not. Why are you here? What could you possibly need of me at this hour?” His words silenced you for a while. He almost thought you had left.

“In truth... I do not know. It was stupid of me to come here, my apologies. I’ll leave at once.” You said hastily before turning around, you were close to the door until Aemond’s low voice halted your movements once more.

“Wait- Don’t go.” He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. 

Still, you obeyed. You turned back towards the screen, waiting to be commanded by him once more.

“Yes?” Your sweet honeyed voice echoed through his chambers.

“Come here.” Aemond called out, his voice raspy with lust. 

Your lips parted in shock, you knew he was taking a bath, the steam filling the room gave it away immediately. 

“Uncle-” You protested weakly.

“Now.” He ordered, all restraint flew out the window upon hearing you call him that. A reminder of what you were to him, his sweet innocent niece.

He could hear your dull footsteps approach the screen, hesitant, you walked around it. Your breath hitched once your eyes met his. You couldn’t see him...completely, but he was obviously bare.

Aemond’s soft breaths summoned you closer, not too close but close enough to where he could make out your now heavy breaths. 

“Come closer.” The words left him before he could even think about it. 

Without thinking yourself, your feet pulled you towards his bathing form. You swallowed the nerves in your throat once your eyes ‘accidently’ fell on his hard cock. However you were still out of his reach.

“Gūrogon hen aōha grēza.” Take off your dress. 

Aemond was testing you, but when your hands started to undo the laces on the back of your bodice, he held back a groan.

His eyes followed your hands as you undid all the laces and knots that held your dress together.

When you let the loosened dress fall to the floor, your thin undergarments were the only thing still shielding you from your uncle.

He didn’t have to say anything, for your hands were already pulling those off too. Once you were fully naked, shoes and tights forgotten on the stone floor as well, Aemond licked his lips.

His cock throbbed upon seeing your bare body. 

“Renigon aōla.” Touch yourself. He groaned, his heavy lidded eyes focusing on your cunt. 

You frowned in confusion, touch yourself how? When you made no move, Aemond feared he had gone too far, but once he noticed your confusion, he understood.

“Kesan urnēptre ao, māzigon kesīr.” I will show you, come here.

Your bare feet carried you towards his outstretched hand. Upon placing your hand in his, he rose from the tub, but made no move to get out.

Your eyes flicked nervously to his, Aemond held your gaze as he lowered his head.

Before you could register what he was about to do, his lips pressed against yours. A foreign hunger consumed you as his lips touched yours, you gasped against his mouth.

When you felt his hand on your cheek, still warm and wet from the water, you sighed into the kiss. 

But Aemond had no patience for soft loving kisses. His tongue prodded your lips open before licking desperately into your mouth. You moaned, gaining him more access as you let him devour you. 

A warm sticky wetness gathered between your thighs, his lips alone spread fire through your body. When he was forced to breathe, you parted.

His eye met yours, and this new look in his eye, unknown to you, made you shudder.

His chest was now heaving, his skin glistening with sweat and his purple eye had turned black with desire. His hand, once on your cheek, made its way down your jaw, towards your breast, giving it a firm squeeze, eliciting a groan from him.

“Fuck.” Aemond sighed, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. If he wasn’t so pent up right now, he would’ve stopped, and saved you both the disgrace, but he couldn’t.

His hand trailed lower, over your belly, stopping right above your cunt. 

“Ivestragon nyke jaelā nyke, ivestragon nyke jaelā aōha Kepus.” Tell me you want me, tell me you want your uncle. Aemond whispered lowly.

You nodded, your chest rising with each breath. You closed your eyes, anticipating his touch. When you still didn’t feel him, your eyes snapped open.

“Jaelan naejot rȳbagon vestrā ziry.” I want to hear you say it. 

“Kostilus renigon nyke Kepus.” Please touch me uncle. You almost whined- begged for him to touch you, even though it was foreign to you, your cunt ached.

That drove him insane, the way your sweet voice told him you wanted him in your mother tongue, his cock twitched. Two of his fingers darted out to glide between your slick folds, it immediately pulled a moan from you. 

Aemond almost gasped upon feeling the wetness between your thighs, he knew you would probably be sensitive- but for you to be this wet already? You must want him as bad as he wants you. 

When one of his fingers found your clit, he circled it, drawing more soft gasps and pleads from your lips. 

“Sir ao.” Now you. 

Aemond used all his restraint to pull back, and lower himself in the bath again.

You almost cried when his fingers left you, but when you saw him lean back in the bath again, his hand starting to stroke teasingly along his cock, your own hand made its way down your body.

Remembering what Aemond had just taught you, you used your own two fingers to repeat what he did. Letting them glide through your folds first, before touching your clit.

Your eyes never left his as you put on a show for him, now understanding what he wants.

Aemond now jerked his cock firmer, trying to almost match your movements. Both of your heavy breaths and moans filled the room, urging you both closer to release.

Your fingers worked faster when Aemond pumped his own cock faster.

Holding each other's gaze, you were the first to come. Your thighs clenched shut with your hand still between them. Your other hand shot up to clamp over your mouth as you cried out Aemond’s name. 

Aemond halted his movements and watched with parted lips as your legs trembled. Your first orgasm hitting you hard. Your knees almost buckled underneath you from the sheer force of your pleasure. When your climax ebbed away, you opened your eyes again.

Aemond summoned you back to him. When he was able to reach you, he helped you in the bath. Once you stood over his lap, both feet on either side of him, he helped you lower down onto his lap. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him again, Aemond gasped in surprise as you hungrily moved your lips against his. When you moved a bit too close to his now flushed and angry cock, he groaned into the kiss.

He felt your arms wrap around his neck, his own hands holding onto your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Aemond almost came- just from feeling your cunt press against him. 

His cock so sensitive and aching from being denied to cum twice already, but Aemond knew it was worth it.

When he pulled away, his grip on your waist tightened as he used you to grind your cunt on him, moving back and forth until short waves formed in the water.

“Ao sagon ñuhon.” You're mine.

You moaned at his words. Aemond nipped at your neck before aligning his cock up with your hole. His tip first dragged through your folds before he dared nudge his dripping head inside, once he felt your walls clench around him, he paused for a moment.

Aemond looked up at you, it seemed as if you were completely out of this world. Your eyes were closed, face red and damp.

A bruise in your neck from his biting and nipping. Your hair loosely falling over your back, you were a sight for the Gods.

He kissed you fiercely before pulling you fully down, until his entire length was sheathed inside you. You whined against his lips, the stretch and fullness of him overwhelming. 

When you came across his chambers this evening, having no plan about what to say to him, you did not quite imagine this.

Aemond was now the one moaning as he tried to buck up into you, the desperation to cum overpowering him. 

“Fuck-” He groaned when you parted.

“H-how do I…” You whispered, a slight tremble in your voice.

“Move up and down or just hump- yes- yes- fuck like that-” 

You immediately did what you were told, you wanted nothing more in this moment then to make him feel good too, to fuck him as if it was your last night alive. Using all your strength you bounced up and down on his cock.

Aemond’s strangled moans and heavy breaths spurred you on, driving you to fuck him faster, only your knees started to hurt and your thighs started to cramp. 

“Uncle- help- please-” You whined as your legs started to give up. Aemond wasted no time in planting his feet on the bottom of the tub and driving his cock up into you.

The sheer force of his thrusts caused the water to spill over the sides of the tub, turning the chamber into a huge mess. 

Neither you or Aemond cared, the bliss and satisfaction of each other's bodies was all that mattered.

Aemond thrived off your moans and whimpers, he knew it was all him who caused it, that no other man had ever made you feel like this.

The slapping off skin, you and your uncle’s moans and the slashing of water was sure to be heard outside, your coupling would surely be no secret.

“Fffuckk!” That was the first time Aemond had heard you cuss, and it brought a smile to his lips, spurring him on to fuck you harder. 

The way you clenched around him, your moans getting higher, and your breath getting stuck in your throat- he knew you were close, he just had to push you over the edge. 

He was surprised he had managed to hold off his own orgasm for this long but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

While you held onto the sides of the tub, Aemond used one hand to hold you steady while the other sought out your bud, with a steady thumb he managed to get you gushing around him in seconds.

Crying out his name in ecstasy, you came hard around his cock.

Aemond, at this point, had reached his limit. With some final hard thrusts, his balls drew tight against his body, cock twitching as he filled you with his cum.

He released a strangled cry from his throat, letting himself get consumed by his peak.

Once the final spurts of his seed had left his body, he sagged against your shaking form. Heavy breaths were now the only thing that could be heard. The water tepid and finally calm. 

What you did not entirely expect was Aemond pulling you flush against him, making you hold him as he melted into you. A satisfied sigh left his lips as his cock softened inside you. Yet he made no move to pull out. 

Neither of you wanted to move.

Your limbs were tangled beneath the surface of the water, skin against skin, warmth clinging to every inch of you that had been touched, claimed. 

You were both suspended in a moment outside of time, outside of duty, outside of honour. The soft drip of water from the edge of the tub was the only sound, save for your slowing breaths.

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, heart still pounding. His arms had remained tight around you, as though if he let go, even for a second, you might vanish into smoke.

Reality waited just beyond the door, and yet neither of you dared look toward it.

You wanted to stay here forever. In this hazy, sacred silence. In his hold.

You were trying not to think about what it meant, what you'd done. Not because you regretted it, but because the weight of it was too much to bear all at once.

It wasn’t just lust that had driven you into his arms. It was something deeper. Something dangerous.

“I meant it.” Aemond whispered, breaking the silence at last.

Your lashes fluttered. “Hm?”

He turned his face into the crook of your neck. His voice was low, a rumble more than a sound.

“You’re mine.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat down your spine. You could feel the way his jaw tensed against your skin, the possessiveness simmering just beneath the surface.

Not rage, not anger- just wanting. 

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him.

His violet eye met yours, burning. The sapphire gleamed faintly in the dim candlelight, and for once, there was no mask behind his expression. No cold control. Just him. Raw and open.

You only whispered, “And you’re mine.”

Something shifted in his face.

A crack in his composure, a softening that made your heart twist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips- slow, reverent.

As though he was trying to memorize every part of you, just in case this moment didn’t last.

But it would. It had to.

His hand found yours beneath the water, threading his fingers between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“I won’t let them take you from me,” he murmured against your lips. “Not now.”

You nodded once, heart thundering in your chest.

You didn’t need promises. You didn’t need sweet words or vows made in the godswood.

You just needed him. The truth in his touch. The honesty in the way he looked at you now, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

And maybe you were.

Y/n was in her chambers as usual, sitting on her rug beside the warm fire. The curtains were all open, the soft afternoon light fluttering in from across Blackwater Bay. Her large green gown sat around her like she was a castle and the gown was the high hill, its battlements built on. In her lap, she held some fabric, a needle and some thread. Beside her, her small pin cushion, scissors and the parchment pattern.

Her children, the twins Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, sat at their mother’s feet playing with their toys, for Jaehaera that meant rag dolls of princesses and knights on wooden horses, and for Jaehaerys that meant wooden castles and soldiers.

The nursemaids loomed ready to take the children upon their first cry, regardless of how many times Y/n had ordered them away.

The doors opened wide, the kingsguard knight's pushing the heavy door open to allow Aegon to stride in with confidence. It was already obvious to Y/n that he was at least tipsy; then again, she had not seen Aegon sober for as long as they’d been married.

“Hello, my love.” He cooed as he swagged in and collapsed in a heap down beside her on the rug, giving her cheek a tender kiss, “What are you up to?” he asked, his gaze falling over her work.

“I am making Jaehaera her new dress for her visits with your mother,” she answered,

“Awww, she’ll make a very pretty princess in whatever you make for her,” he cooed, “have you made one for our little boy, too?”

“Yes, so they match as ever.”

“Perfection,” he smiled, “... hummm?”

“Yes, Aegon?”

“Where is the baby?”

“In his crib,” she said, but without even thinking, she reached out her hand and stopped Aegon from rising the second he tried to stand, and forced him back down onto the rug, “Do not wake him. He has been sleepless these last four days; let him rest.”

“But I want to hold him, Y/n,” Aegon whined,

“You may hold him, next he wakes. And not until.”

“Fine,” he huffed, “Mummy is being strict with us today, isn’t she?” He cooed to their children,

“Did you want something, Dear husband?”

“Can I not simply desire to come and visit my lovely bride and beautiful children?”

“What do you want, Aegon?” she playfully glared,

“Fine… Grandsire is looking for me,”

“Should you not see him? He is your hand.”

“Exactly, he’s going to make me do work… I do not wish to work. I wish to be here with you and the babes.”

“You wish to get out of your work, and I assume a long lecture about something.”

“No…”

“Aegon, Otto Hightower does not come from his tower of the hand unless he needs to; he would not be searching the halls for you if you hadn’t done something.”

“... I may have… done… something,”

“And that was?”

“I may have… requested an audience with… Hugh Hammer… of the builders guild.”

“Why?” She raised a brow, “I thought the builders' guild had finished the scorpions?”

“They have. I had another task for him.”

“And that was?”

“... Something of a surprise,” he smiled, “Perhaps for someone’s nameday,” he smirked, glancing to the twins,

“Aegon.” She sighed, setting her sewing down, “You cannot keep a nameday present from the children's mother. What have you asked to have built?”

“Well…” he smiled with a hushed whisper so the twins wouldn’t hear, “There is so much space in the weirwood garden… and I know how you so love to linger below the bloody leaves. So… I asked Hugh and the builders' guild to… build the children a little place to play. It will look just like the Red Keep, with ropes to climb, slides to glide down, little hidden alcoves and even a little kitchen for them to make muddy pies.”

She softly smiled, trying to hide how sweet she found the thought, “You are having him build them a playcastle?”

“Yes.”

“... Sometimes you are too sweet to them,” she cooed, tapping his hand,

“Well, I am king! If I cannot spoil my children, whatever is the point?” he asked, “Besides… I know how you love to be beside them, and I know the Red keep sometimes… feels suffocating to you. Out in the garden, under the tree, watching them play, sounds like heaven, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she nodded, “And I assume it will be big enough for you to go running in after them?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, “so I can go chasing them around like a big bad dragon daddy.”

“Umm…”

“And space for… other little ones to play, not just these three.”

“Yes, dear,” she chuckled, “We shall see about that.”

“We shall see about it, as soon as you are happy to be all… cosy and cuddly again,” he cooed, sliding his hand over her thigh and nuzzling her neck.

“I recall being fat and uncomfortable,”

“Well, I remember it differently,” he smirked, “I love when your pregannt… you’re so… hummm,” he bit his bottom lip, “Full and snuggly,” he smirked, wrapping his arms around her, and stroking her stomach, “And with the twins… You were so big… I loved it so much!”

“Didn’t you love me, Dear husband?”

“I adore you! Then and now. Just… I loved seeing you growing our babes,” he cooed, “And little Maegor is getting big now.” He growled in her ear,

“Aegon!” Otto’s booming voice called out as he pushed open the doors to the chamber,

“Ahh!” Aegon yelped, hiding under Y/n’s dress. Unfortunately, it was a terrible attempt at hiding, since his whole figure was obvious below the fabric, and his legs were sticking out.

The twins giggled, dropping their toys and coming to climb under her dress too, thinking it was a fun game, which of course only revealed Aegon more.

“No, no, my darlings, I’m hiding,” he tried to tell them,

“Aegon. The small council has been waiting for three hours.” Otto barked,

“Can’t you handle it, Grandsire? I am playing with the children,” he whined, “Oww!” He complained as Jaehaerys began pulling on his hair,

“Now,” Otto demanded,

“Fine.” Aegon sighed, getting up off the floor, he picked up Jaehaerys and kissed him firmly on the head, setting him down beside his toys. He then picked up Jaehaera and gave her a long and loud kiss on the cheek before sitting her with her dolls. He then leaned down, his hands on his knees, and his lips pouted for a kiss from Y/n,

Which she didn’t give, instead going back to her sewing,

“Ahem.” Aegon coughed,

“Yes?”

“Kiss?”

“No kiss.”

“No kiss?”

“No kiss.”

“... But kiss?”

“No kiss.”

“But… but… kiss?!”

“No kiss!”

“Aegon!” Otto yelled,

Aegon sighed and gave Y/n the biggest kiss on the head he could manage, “Later, my love,” he cooed before he headed off with his Grandsire, “You owe me a kiss! And I will collect!” he yelled as he left the chamber.

“Daddy silly…” Jaehaera giggled,

You spend every night in his bed at his insistence. Many nights, he doesn't fall asleep until he's tucked inside you, spent and softening. Sometimes he wakes first, thick and throbbing, already half thrusting in his sleep. Sometimes the delicious stretch of him hardening brings you out of your slumber. A tight squeeze of your walls usually rouses him. You fuck, close and lazy, before drifting off for a second time. At least until he gets hard again. Only, he’s constantly hard. 

Honestly, this is at least a two whore job.

But the compensation is exquisite. And the wages are great, too.

Plus, if you’re honest, you don’t want to share.

His mouth has even less of a filter than normal when the two of you are left alone. “Be a good girl for your prince and touch yourself. Cum on my cock. I wanna feel you squeezing it.”

You never quite know what new mischief he’ll want to get up to with you. He’s always bending you into strange new shapes, hitting new spots inside you. He enjoys ordering trays of puddings and swirled sweet creams from the kitchens to smear on your skin—so he can suck them off. He loves playing any dirty games you two can invent. You don’t tell the Queen about when you sneak off to fuck in random, public parts of the Keep. You especially don’t tell her about the time you two were caught and ran through the halls, clothes askew, cackling. 

You thought he’d get bored with you after a while, but the opposite has happened. He’s addicted to your taste. Demands you present your pussy to him every morning. “I’m a growing boy,” he’ll say, a mischievous grin blooming, “I must have a proper breakfast.”

He’s always humping anything within reach when he eats you out—the mattress, your leg, the air. Come to think of it, he cums faster than you do half the time. He gets off on your taste alone. Groans the moment his tongue brushes your folds. Makes a mess of you until his face gleams with your arousal. Damn near uses it as his daily moisturizer.

He’s constantly sneaking back to his chambers in between boring courtly duties for a little fun. One time, Ser Criston Cole marched in while you were swallowing Aegon’s cock. You didn’t stop, only winked at the knight. His face went white. Aegon threw a pillow at him. Only then did he finally get the hint to wait outside. The memory still makes you two snicker when you pass him in the hall.

You thought you’d have to put in a lot of effort to seduce him once he got used to you. But it’s been a year and he’s still hard for you every time he enters his chambers. You spot the bulge in his trousers the moment he steps through the threshold and it makes you smirk. Sometimes, you plan little surprises for him that make him shed his clothes like they’re on fire.

He treats you like an esteemed guest of the crown. The finest food, the prettiest clothing (it never stays on long…), anything you could ever want. He takes care of you.

You fell ill once, and he had the kitchen send so many bowls of soup that his room looked primed to feed the whole Kingsguard. And he wouldn’t leave your side, despite the Maester’s protests. He tucked the blankets around you so carefully and snuggled up behind you until you felt held from every direction. Safe. Wanted.

You thought this would feel like work, at least sometimes. But the way your body lights up with one breath, one glance, one touch—you know the pleasure is all yours. You’d do this without pay. Aegon is all you want.

“Stop it.”

You look up to find Aegon beside you. 

“Stop talking to him,” he glares.

You glance back at the table. The greens and blacks had gathered at King Viserys’ command, but there was no true merriment, all forced smiles and dinner knives gripped a little too tightly. That Aegon had been seated across from you did nothing to ease the tense environment. Aegon, who every time you dared look to him, looked ready to come to blows with your betrothed or to fuck you on that table then and there —maybe both. So you had avoided your lover’s gaze the entire night and kept your attention on Jace, something that seemed to only infuriate Aegon further. 

At least Aegon had restrained himself until you had stepped away from the feast to serve yourself wine from a side table. You hadn’t even noticed him follow after you, though honestly you should have expected it. Now that you looked at him properly for the first time, he looked absolutely sick with rage and desire, and more than a little intoxicated.

“Stop letting him touch you,” he breathes, leaning down to you.

“Touch me? —Seven, he held my hand,” you answer.

“I don’t want him touching you.”

“And am I to think you’ve been faithful? That you haven’t slept with any other girls since you first came to my bed? Why shouldn’t I—”

He grabs your wrist.

“Don’t. Don’t put that thought in my head, of you and the Strong boy. Don’t, or I’ll kill him. You may be betrothed to him, but you’re mine.”

You shiver as he said that. Aegon grins.

“Knew you’d like that.”

You blush and look away, back to the table, to see if anyone had noticed the pair of you.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Aegon whispers.

“Let go of me. Are you trying to ruin me?” you try to stay angry with him, to be sensible, to remember that all it would take is the wrong person seeing, and scandal would break out.

“I could ruin you right now.”

His hand runs up your arm. You pull away.

“Control yourself, Aegon.”

“I am,” he hisses. “This is me controlling myself. Have you thought about how this is torturing me?”

Two serving girls are looking at you. One whispers something to the other.

“Now isn’t the time to discuss this. Come to my chambers tonight, after the feast. And keep off of the wine —I won’t let you in if you’re drunk.”

Aegon looks sullen, but he knows agreement is his only hope of getting you alone that night. He makes a show of setting aside his goblet.

“As my lady commands.”

***

Inviting Aegon to visit your bedroom for a ‘discussion’ went exactly as you both had known it would: with his hands on your hips the moment the door was open to him, Aegon kicking the door shut behind him, and pushing you up against it once shut, his mouth on yours.

You allow yourself to enjoy it, for a moment, before pulling back.

“You shouldn’t have acted like that in public. Someone will suspect us.”

Your hands ran up and down his neck.

“Are we still pretending I’m here to talk?” he asks, eyes dark but clear. He’d done as you asked and refrained from drinking any further. For all the greens had done to try to curb his indulging his cups, who knew the solution was actually quite simple: deny Aegon sex and he would sober.

“You are here to talk.”

“You often invite men to ‘talk’ in your room at this hour of the night? In just your nightgown?” 

There was an edge to his voice. Jealousy, yes, but something more. Insecurity. 

And you were clad in only your thin nightgown. You knew how this would end, with you both naked in your bed, so you had decided to make things a little easier once you reached that step. But you weren’t prepared for that yet. You still clung to some morsel of rationality, though having Aegon pressed against you, hot and angry and needy, was a terrible distraction.

“What do you think will happen if someone finds out about us? That Prince Aegon has stolen and defiled Prince Jacaerys’ bride?”

“Maybe if Jace knew where to put it…”

“This isn’t a jest, Aegon.”

“He won’t know. Doubt he knows where children come from.”

“Aegon.”

“Thinks he’ll kiss you on your wedding day, and that’ll get you pregnant—.”

“You aren’t funny—”

“He won’t know it was me that got you pregnant.”

Your breath hitches. Aegon, sensing weakness, grins.

“You like that? Like the idea of me finding you on your wedding night?” He leans in and trails kisses up your neck. “Poor thing, you’ll be so bored. He’ll have thought the ceremony was the end of it. He’ll fall asleep, leaving you wanting and needing…needing for me…”

His fingers curl to grip your hips.

“Say it,” his voice is commanding, but he nuzzles into your neck with an unspoken desperation. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you breathe. 

He pushes flush against you. You can feel how hard he is. But he doesn’t grind into you, doesn’t kiss you, just clings to you. As if he wishes to never let go, to crawl into your skin. As if he needs you and is frightened of being pushed away.

You lift up his chin to force him to look at you. There’s vulnerability in lilac eyes.

“I need you, Aegon. Need you to make me feel good like no one else can. Make me feel good like Jace can’t.” 

Aegon’s eyes go wide and his lips part slightly.

“Jace has never touched me. Not like you have. Not like this.”

“He hasn’t had you the way I have?” he asks, almost whimpering.

“Never. He’s kissed me, a little, but not like you have.”

Jace didn’t wish to do anything that might risk your reputation before you were wed. He didn’t wish to dishonour you. 

“How noble of him. How…innocent.” Aegon says. “Is that what you want? Innocent?”

“No,” you confess. 

Jace is a good man. He doesn’t deserve an unfaithful betrothed. But this marriage was not of your making, and though you view Jace with friendship, he isn’t what you want. You want wine-stained lips and lilac eyes and high laughter and grasping hands and bodies tangling together beneath the sheets. You want Aegon.

Aegon comes alive again. He pulls you forward by the hips and flush against him as he grinds his hard-on into your soft nightgown. He groans as you moan from the sensation.

“Good. Because I’m not innocent, nor are my intentions with you.”

He claims your mouth again, harder and rougher, and uses your gasp of surprise and pleasure as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His hands are on your nightgown’s laces. Your fingers grip the hemline of his shirt, but before you can remove it, Aegon loses patience with untying your dress and instead opts to pull it over your head. 

“Gods, look at you”, he says, his eyes roaming over every inch of your naked flesh like it’s the most wondrous sight he’s ever seen. 

You shiver.

“Cold?” he asks.

You nod.

“Let’s warm you up, then.”

He leads you over to the bed and pushes you down onto the sheets, his body covering yours’ in an instant. You tug his shirt up and over his head, accidentally pulling his hair as you do.

“Ouch. Someone’s impatient.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Is that so?” One hand braces himself up by your head, the other runs up, up, up your leg. “And what’ll I find here?”

He cups between your legs. You gasp and buck your hips up against him.

“So wet. All this for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moan.

His fingers work to massage your cunt. It makes him grin to watch you squirm in pleasure and need.

“You’re mine,” his voice is deep and hoarse. “Tell me you’re mine, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You meet his eyes. Your arms wrap around his back.. You open your legs wider and hook one around his hips. You watch as his eyes blow wide with lust, but he restrains himself until you say what he is desperate to hear.

“I’m your’s.”

Aegon pushes his trousers down just far enough to free his cock. It hits against the soft flesh of your thighs and though you can’t see it, you can feel it is hot and leaking already. 

“Need it. ‘M ready for it. I —Aegon!” you moan as he pushes in. He obliges your need (and his own) by pressing on until he’s fully inside.

Normally he would hide his face in your neck as soon as he began to thrust, but this time, he keeps eye contact. 

Your eyes roll back in your head from pleasure as he hits that sweet spot inside you again and again.

“Uh uh. Need to see you,” he growls. 

You open your eyes. That seems to spur him on as he begins to thrust harder and faster. 

“Need to feel you cum around my cock,”

Your nails grip into his back. The hand that had been at your hip to anchor you to him, drops down to rub at your clit just right.

“Does that feel good?”

“Fuck!” is all you can manage, panting and sweating.

“Be good and cum for me.” 

You cum, hard, biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming so loud the entire Red Keep hears. You buck your hips up and cling to him as you ride out your high.

 When you start to wind down, it takes you a few seconds to realize Aegon is still thrusting into you with the same speed. It wasn’t unusual for him to fuck you through both of you cumming, but usually once he had finished he needed to pull out and rest, either in preparation for the next round or to fall asleep in your bed ( usually you were the one who had to wake him to remind him he needed to make his way back to his own room before dawn ). But he was still going as hard and fast as before. More than that, his face was screwed up, and he was whimpering.

He hadn’t cum yet.

He never lasted once he felt you start to squeeze around him.

Had you done something wrong? Had he not liked it?

“Please,” he begged. “Please say it.”

You knew what he needed. Your hands left his back to cup his face.

“I’m your’s, Aegon.”

He came hard. Harder than he ever had before with you. You could feel the warmth filling you up between your legs. He shuddered and collapsed on top of you, breathing heavy.

Your arms wrapped around his back again, gentle this time. He hid his face against your neck like he was ashamed.

“Shhh. Shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” you whispered. You pressed kisses to the side of his face. “You did so good. You did so good for me.”

Aegon kept his face hidden against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his body relax. He pulled out slowly and as he did, you could feel his cum spilling out of you.

“Oh,” his muffled voice had a tone of surprise to it that would almost make you laugh if he wasn’t being so sincere. “Sorry. Towel—”

Aegon tried to disentangle himself from you, but you pulled him back.

“We’ll clean up in a minute.”

He relaxed into your arms again. 

Aegon still hadn’t looked at you since cumming.

Slowly, his face lifted up to look at you.

“I haven’t,” he breathed in a soft, sleepy voice.

“What?” 

“You asked if I’d fucked any other girls. Not since you.”

Oh. You felt a fluttering in your heart.

“Half the brothels in the Street of Silk must have gone out of business, because of you.”

your husband only grumbled, rough hands trying to stop you from revealing more skin. still, you were determined, swatting every attempt away with a disgruntled sound, making maekar even more annoyed.

"have you no shame at all, woman?" he grouched, face pinched in irritation as you lifted the tunic until it pooled under his armpits, revealing his chest and belly in all its glory. "disrobing me and pawing at my flesh like i'm nothing but a toy to be played with when i'm exhausted from the bloody fucking—"

but you were barely listening to what your husband was saying, and frankly, in that moment, you had no qualms about paying mind to what came out of his mouth. all you cared about was how good he looked in that moment, leaning back against the pillows of your bed, still sweaty and dirty from the royal hunt he attended, looking every inch a man. all muscle and sinew and gods, the smatterings of fine silver hairs all over his chest and belly, and all the way lower on his navel, where a white trail of hair led right beneath the waistband of his breeches, to his cock.

you almost sighed thinking of it. you loved your husband's cock. it was one of the best things about him.

"you're exhausted," you parroted, humming as your soft hands continued to caress his stomach, pressing your fingers in, kneading at the skin like a cat, leisurely and appreciative, eliciting a displeased groan from your husband. "so sit back and indulge me for a few moments, dear husband."

maekar only scowled at you, the furrow between his brows deepening, lip curling in a snarl as he leaned forward, trying to loom, to intimidate in hopes you would cease pestering him. "don't dear husband me, you aggravating woman," he gritted, teeth barred, akin to a dragon before it unlatched its jaws to breathe fire and ash in anger. it made you warm under your chemise. you loved when your husband was all snappy and indignant.

you leaned forward, undeterred by his little intimidation tactic, noses almost brushing as you spoke, your tone soft and persuasive, as if beckoning a wild animal that might bite. "you were gone for so long, and i have been here, all alone, missing you like a limb," you lamented, distracting him from the way your fingers trailed along the waistband of his breeches now, prodding at the pudgy roll of fat there, loving the soft feel of it. "the least you could do is yield to my whims for a while."

aware that it wouldn't be enough to placate your husband, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his scarred cheek, leaving chaste, sweet kisses on the skin as you murmured. "you always look so good after a hunt, husband," you appeased, relentless in your pursuit of what you wanted, especially when it was something as delicious as touching maekar freely without him grumbling in your ear incessantly. "makes me want to devour you whole," your tone was on the precipe of resembling a purr, lips descending towards the strong line of his jaw and down his neck, nuzzling at the sweaty skin in delight.

as always, he tried to persist, even as you felt his skin warm and flush under your lips, making your mouth curl into a satisfied smile. you had him exactly where you wanted him, even if he was still resisting.

"you're being ridiculous," and oh, he was already panting softly, broad chest heaving along with the warm breaths that brushed your temple as you littered his ruddy-skinned throat in wet kisses. "pouncing on me like a cat in heat the second, ah—fuck," he cursed right when your tongue laved at his skin, tasting the remnants of the hunt. the sweat, the grime, the dirt—him, musky and manly and oh so palatable. “stop. i reek of filth and—”

“and i love it,” you moaned against his throat, mouth parting to press open—mouthed kisses to the skin of his throat, tongue licking at every remnant of perspiration, catching it against your palate and savoring it like the finest arbor gold. “you smell s’ good, husband, gods. i want to lick you all over.”

it always got like this. the more disheveled he returned, the more aroused you got. shame had deserted you moons ago, being absurdly vocal about how much you enjoyed when your husband was anything but presentable and pristine.

maekar made an aborted sound at your words, already flushed all the way to the tip of his ears, one rough hand moving to clasp the back of your nape and squeeze in hopes of deterring your assault on his senses, but it seemed in vain. the touch only spurred you, a soft sound resembling a purr rumbling against his throat as you continued to press your tongue to his skin, dipping it to taste the touch of grime gathered in the hollow of his throat.

“filthy,” maekar snarled, fingers squeezing just so at your nape and pulling upwards, eliciting a disgruntled sound from you; a whine. your lips were slick with spit, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide, hazy with heat and adoration, which only made the pressure of his hand increase, reprimanding you for how far gone you already looked. “you’re a filthy, dirty woman, you know that?” he spat, tone brooking on a growl. “always have been,” maekar continued, tightening his hold onto your nape, the pads of his fingers restricting your breath for just a moment, just enough to make you gasp, before he eased it. “getting hot and bothered by your soiled husband like a degenerate,” his thumb brushed against your throat, where he gripped prior, the closest thing to quiet tenderness you could get in that moment, but it made warmth spread through you regardless.

“what of it?” you challenged, dipping your head back to his throat, nosing along the flushed skin, your soft fingers resuming their pawing along his belly, pressing and prodding at the pudgy flesh there, nails scraping along the trail of fine hairs leading below his waistband, making your husband hiss. “it’s your smell i crave, your taste,—” another filthy lick, along the jut of his collarbones, before moving downwards towards his chest, where the smattering of hair was thicker, the smell of sweat and musk more pungent.

maekar tensed as soon as he felt your lips brush against one of his pecs, and you could feel the shiver that ran through him when the tip of your nose nudged a nipple, willing it to harden.

“don’t you fucking dare—”

you did it again, nosing at the pebbling bud once, twice. then, you licked it, slow and wet, circling the nipple with the tip of your tongue, flicking teasingly.

a garbled moan punched out of maekar’s chest, his hold on your nape tightening anew, his other hand fisting the sheets under him, white—knuckled and trembling with restraint. you could tell he wanted to shove you away, to haul you as far as possible from his body so he wouldn’t be able to feel all this, to have to succumb to your whims and depravity. but you also knew he liked it. craved your attention like poison in his veins. hated that he needed it. snarled and snapped his jaws while being half—hard already beneath his breeches, blushing from the tips of his ears to where your mouth was currently busied, lips parting to suckle noisily at his nipple, drawing out another restrained, delicious grunt from your husband.

“look at you,” he managed to bite out through gritted teeth, broad chest heaving under your mouth, voice thinner, breathier. “licking and sucking like a common whore,—”

but you didn’t let him finish, letting your teeth scrape against the bud, nipping at it enough to sting, halting his crude words, making him curse, back arching, pushing his chest more into your awaiting mouth. it was a reprimand, but also a sick, twisted pleasure. seeing your husband bucking and snarling under your lips and tongue was a sight you could never get tired of, much like right now, as you laved one last lick to his wet, swollen nipple, before nosing between his pecs through the fine hairs there, inhaling the scent of him like a woman possessed.

“how would you know what common whores do, mhm, husband?” you murmured, nuzzling along the underside of his pecs, letting your lips press against the skin in damp kisses as you descended towards his stomach, fingers still trailing along the hairs leading towards his navel. “have you been indulging without my knowledge?”

each question was a taunt, like dangling a hunk of meat under a dragon’s nose, waiting for it to bite. and you loved nothing more than to taunt your dragon until he bit, until you could feel his teeth sink in, metaphorically or not.

and he always bit.

“you think i would debase myself with some pleasure house wench?” he snarled, violet eyes glinting with something close to offense, which made you preen quietly, warmth spreading through your chest like drizzled honey.

as you nosed along his stomach, you couldn’t help but breathe him in again, mouth parting in soft pants as your eyes fluttered, the musk of him stronger the closer you got to the V—shape of his hips. “i would hope you wouldn’t, dear husband,” you mouthed along his belly, tongue poking out to lick at the skin, tasting him again. “i would be thoroughly scorned if you so dared,” another lap of your tongue, slow and filthy, this time along the trail of hair near the waistband of his breeches, feeling a slight tickle onto your palate.

but, gods, the scent. the taste of him.

musky and sweaty and man.

it drove you wild, lips pressing to that tempting silver line, open-mouthed and slow, savoring him on your tongue again and again, as if you couldn’t get enough.

a groan slipped unbidden from maekar’s mouth, fingers tightening at your nape, as if remembering he still had a hold on you, blunt nails biting at the skin light enough to make you shiver as he pressed with firmness, as if scruffing a cat. “don’t need some perfumed, wanton wench when i have my hands full with you,” he panted, eyes trained on you, almost unblinking, having watched you the entire time, despite his protests. lavender hues half—lidded, glinting, part anger, part heat, eyeing you like a predator stalking prey.

his words made you purr against his skin, a satisfied sound, your fingers moving to tug slightly at his waistband, revealing more of his navel to you to lick and kiss. “good,” you murmured into his skin, dipping to nose at the cincture of his pants, and lower, nuzzling against his crotch, where you could feel him hard and throbbing already.

“woman, you—” but his protest dissolved into a shuddering moan as you rubbed your cheek against his clothed cock insistently, eyes fluttering, gaze holding his, molten and smoldering with heated affection. the friction was delicious, and it only made more bitten off pleasured sounds fall from his lips, broad chest heaving, splotched red from how hard he was blushing, skin ruddy and flushed. he looked good enough to eat. and maybe later, you intended to do just that.

the scent of him was strongest there, musk so strong it made you dizzy with want, lips parting to mouth at his crotch, feeling his cock throb beneath the cloth, only spurring you on. “smell s’ good,” you mumbled as you continued to map the hard ridge of his arousal with your mouth, tongue laving at the material, wetting it with your spit, making the outline of his cock even more visible. “taste s’ good, husband.”

“gods, fuck—” came from above you, the grip at your nape firming, pressing down, almost smushing your face into his crotch, but you couldn’t be happier to succumb to maekar’s guidance, feeling his hips twitch upwards, rutting weakly against your face.

it made you moan, the action so debauched, so depraved, making you nose along his clothed cock in time with the clumsy grinding of his hips against your face, the scent of him thickening, clogging your senses and coating the back of your throat from how greedily you inhaled.

“c—can’t believe you’re, shit—” he could barely get his words out, too impaired by the way you looked, the blissful look on your face as he humped against it. “can’t believe you’re getting off on this, you wanton woman,” maekar continued, his hips picking up the pace, forcing you slightly more against his clothed cock, grinding against your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your nose; anything he could, the pleasure tingling down his spine way too rapid for his taste. “mouthing at me like a filthy animal, letting me hump—fuck.”

you could tell he was getting close, the thought satisfying you more than you could tell. seeing your husband so unraveled by this alone, hips grinding against your face, hand holding you down for more delicious friction, chasing more but not being able to get it. a delicious torture that was way too exquisite not to witness.

“mhm,” you hummed against his crotch, rubbing your cheek harder against his clothed cock, feeling it throb incessantly, the smell of him more pungent, the precum leaking steadily through his breeches and staining your cheek. “not my fault my husband left me unattended for so long,” you lamented, fluttering your lashes, continuing to rub against him. “i’ve been so lonely,” the words were mouthed against him, breath warm against his crotch, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“always so fuckin’ demanding,” he groaned, long and suffering, humping against your face with more fervor, so close to his peak, face and throat flushed and splotchy, hand firm against your nape as he pushed your face deeper into his crotch. “n—never satisfied, ah, fuck, fuck, wife—,”

wife. the word strained and close to a whine as he lost control, rutting against your plush cheek once, twice, before he came with a pained groan, as if someone clawed the sound from deep in his chest, his spent dirtying his breeches, wetting the fabric against your cheek.

his chest was heaving, mouth parted wide as he tried to catch his breath, his grip still firm, but trembling against your nape, his thumb now brushing along the side of your throat, just like before, as if rewarding you silently, thanking you for letting him use you like this.

it made you smile and you nuzzled into his now damp crotch, the smell of him more powerful than ever, making you moan against the cloth. the sound seemed to bring maekar back from his post coital bliss, his violet eyes blinking down at you, hazy but attentive.

“lick it,” he breathed out, voice strained and heaving still, the fingers at your nape guiding you towards where his cum stained his breeches most, a wet patch visible where the head of his now softening cock was under the cloth. “can’t let good spend go to waste, wife.”

you only hesitated for a heartbeat, mind not wrapping around his words for a moment, before you moaned, mouth parting eagerly, tongue pressing to the damp material and licking, feeling the taste of him invade your palette. “yes, yes,” you sighed, overly pleased, too preoccupied and greedy, lips wrapping around the wet spot and suckling it into your mouth, the essence exploding onto your tongue.

“fucking filthy woman—,” maekar cursed, the sight of his wife, so desperate and eager, making him equal parts flustered and astounded.

you knew the night was going to be a long one when you felt a twitch under your tongue, your husband’s cock throbbing back to life, making your lips curl.

In all the chaos and bawdiness of that night, YN and Stannis’s marriage remained unconsummated. But weeks turned to months, and YN’s belly remained flat, and soon gossip began to spread about the castle. Even the king was curious, asking his brother teasingly if he even knew how to perform the act.

That seemed to wound her husband’s pride. One evening, he took his supper in her chambers, and when the servants had been dismissed, he said simply, “I intend to bed you tonight,”

YN almost spluttered over her wine. Composing herself quickly, she was about to question him, when he continued. “We have allowed this marriage to go unconsummated for too long. I am Robert’s heir, and until he managed to sire a legitimate child, we must needs continue the bloodline,”

***

It was dim in YN’s bedchamber. The candles had been blown out, and the fire was starting to die out. Moonlight bathed the room, turning her bedsheets silvery as she tugged them up to her chin, covering up her nakedness. She peeked up every now and then to watch Stannis undress.

She had never seen a naked man before. As a girl, she had overheard older cousins gossiping over their sweethearts; muscled men who could hand a greatsword with ease, or lithe singers with long supple legs.

She decided that Stannis Baratheon was more attractive than them all. Though there was still some gauntness left over from the year long siege, there was no doubt that Stannis was an imposing figure. He had broad shoulders and lean muscles, and the wiry hair on his chest was dark like that on his head and beard, and trailed down between his legs. His manhood intrigued her, and she found herself squeezing her legs together in anticipation.

Her eyes flicked to him as he slid beneath the sheets next to her. She could feel the dip in the featherbed, sense the heat from his body…

“You’re a Maiden, yes?” He asked, and she was certain he was grinding his teeth.

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured, feeling suddenly meek. “H-have you…?”

“If a man could be a maiden, then that’s what I’d be,” he said. “But I suppose if Robert can work out the logistics…”

YN suppressed a smile. “I don’t want to think about your brother,” she murmured. “Not when I’m with you,”

Stannis looked down at her, his brows furrowed. “You’re my husband,” she went on, propping herself up on her elbow. “And…”

“And?”

“And you are the man I am attracted to,”

He made to dispute her, but she pressed a finger to his lips. The movement made the bedsheet slip, revealing the curve of her breast, made silvery by the moonlight. Stannis gulped, his eyes drifting downwards. Carefully, as if handling blown glass, he cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it in his large palm, watching her face for even a twitch of displeasure. When she pushed into his touch, he grumbled out a low noise of approval. Tentatively, she leaned up to graze her lips over his, humming with satisfaction as he yielded to her kiss.

Slowly, he gathered her in his arms, holding her body tight to his as they kissed. Her skin was warm against his, and he relished in the way her body moulded to him as he rolled on top of her.

As her legs parted, he felt the softness of her thighs, and for a moment he reflected on how well their bodies fit together. When his cock grazed against her entrance, she whimpered, her body tensing. Carefully, he stroked his cock through the growing wetness, enthralled at the sensation of her heat pulsing against his tip.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed into her, his teeth gritted as she enveloped him. She whimpered at the intrusion, at the overwhelming sensation of being so full, her hips rocking up to his as her mind swam.

“Let me move,” he gritted out, and she nodded quickly, rocking her hips up to his experimentally.

He took her deep and slow, holding her body tight to his all the while, drinking in her sweet desperate noises. When he felt his release building, he buried his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder, his hips faltering as he chased the high. With a strangled noise, he spilled inside her, riding out his release with a few more sloppy thrusts.

Panting and flushed, he rolled off her, staring stunned at the canopy above them.

YN instantly moved closer to him; she had quickly grown accustomed to feeling his skin on hers. He tucked her into his side, his hand splayed over her back.

“You are truly my wife now,” he murmured into her hair.

She nodded, her fingers trailing through his wiry chest hair. “Yes,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss over his pectoral, before resting her head there. “Truly,”

You rocked your hips against his, a slow, deliberate grind that had him gasping into your mouth, his whole body stiffening as if struck by lightning. A broken, ragged sound escaped him, something between a groan and a prayer.

“Gods…” he whispered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His hands, which had been hovering nervously at your waist, finally gripped you, his fingers digging into the fabric of your tunic as if you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

He was so beautifully, painfully sensitive. Every shift of your body, every press and roll of your hips against the hard ridge of his cock made him shudder. You could feel the tension coiling tightly within him, the unfamiliar sensations overwhelming his disciplined control. He was a man who had known cold and duty, but never this… this sweet, aching friction.

“It’s alright” you murmured against his ear, your breath hitching as your own pleasure began to build, hot and pooling low in your belly. “Just feel it, Jon. Let go.”

He was trembling, his breaths—more like whimpers—coming in sharp, shallow pants against your neck. His hips began to move then, tentatively at first, then with more urgency, meeting your rhythm in a clumsy, perfect sync. The scrape of leather, the rustle of cloth, and his soft, stifled whimpers were the only sounds in the world.

“Plea—please” he’d whisper, holding your hips while you move on top of him, your skirt lifted up enough so he can also have a view of your creamy thighs. Your underwear is soaking, leaving a stain where you move against him. The friction is delicious. The fabric of his pants hitting right in your clothed clit.

You felt the exact moment he unraveled. A great, shuddering breath wracked his frame, his arms locking around you like iron bands as he buried a muffled cry into your shoulder. He held onto you through the waves of his climax, his body trembling with the aftershocks of a pleasure so new it bordered on pain.

When he finally stilled, he didn’t let go. He just held you there in the dark, his face hidden, his breath slowly calming against your skin. “I made a mess” he breathed, pointing to his pants, cum dripping from them.

“I’ll clean it” you bit your lip.

The wind howled outside the tower, rattling shutters and setting the fire to crackle and spit as Robb fed it another log.

Behind him, the bed creaked softly as you shifted, burrowed deep beneath the furs with a book balanced on your knees and Grey Wind curled heavy and warm at your side. His tail flicked once with lazy contentment, thumping softly against the mattress.

Robb turned, brushing ash from his hands. "It’s freezing. Move over."

He crossed the room, tugging off his tunic with chilled fingers, but the moment he lifted the covers to slide in beside you, Grey Wind’s head snapped up.

A low whine. Then a growl, he wasn't angry, just... possessive.

"Don’t start," Robb warned, already half in the bed.

Grey Wind stood.

Robb froze as the stubborn beast stepped right into the spot Robb had been aiming for and promptly sat.

You snorted behind your book.

"Oh, you think this is funny?"

"A little," you murmured, eyes still on the page.

Robb glowered. He wasn't about to share his wife tonight, and especially not with his damn wolf. He gently pushed Grey Wind out of the way and crawled into the bed.

You giggled as Robb pulled the book out of your hands and tossed it across the room. He leaned down and nuzzled into your neck, trailing kisses over your bare shoulder.

"Robb," you gasped, "Your hands are freezing."

He hummed in response, pushing the covers down, so he could slip his hands beneath your nightgown. He kissed his way up your neck, his fingers tickling up your thigh.

You arched toward him with a breathy sigh, and Robb smiled against your skin, his voice low and thick with want.

"I’ve been waiting all day to have you like this," he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. "Warm and soft and all mine."

Your hands found his hair as leaned over you, the weight of him delicious, grounding. His mouth found your collarbone, your throat, your lips…and just as his fingers slipped beneath your nightdress, brushing over your soaked heat-

Whump.

Grey Wind jumped back onto the bed.

Pushing himself right between the two of you.

Robb groaned loudly, dropping his head to your chest as the direwolf circled once, then flopped down directly across your hips.

You let out a startled laugh, half breathless, half annoyed. "He’s so dramatic."

Robb sat up, shoving at the direwolf’s massive shoulder. "Off, Grey Wind."

The wolf blinked. Didn’t move.

"Down," Robb repeated, sterner this time. "Go lie by the fire."

With an exaggerated sigh, Grey Wind heaved himself off your legs and padded a few steps away... only to sit again at the end of the bed, watching. Judging.

Robb gave you a look that said ignore him, and you tried…really tried…as he lowered his head between your thighs and drew a slow, deliberate lick up your center.

You moaned, hand flying to his curls, hips canting toward his mouth. "Oh…Robb-"

Before either of you could register the sudden shift in weight on the mattress, all eighty pounds of fur and misguided concern landed directly on Robb’s back.

"Seven hells!" Robb sputtered, dragging himself up off you with an exasperated huff as Grey Wind walked over him, sniffing at your face, licking your cheek like you were the wounded party.

You couldn’t help it, you burst into helpless laughter.

Robb looked murderously betrayed.

"That’s it."

He stood, hoisting Grey Wind from the bed. The wolf let out a startled huff, clearly offended as Robb stomped to the chamber door, flung it open, and deposited the menace into the hall.

"No more interruptions. No more chaperones. You are banished."

Grey Wind sat outside the door and howled.

Robb slammed it shut and locked it, turning back to you with hair tousled, chest rising and falling, and a look in his eyes that made your thighs press together.

"Where were we?" he breathed, already climbing back over you, hands sliding up your sides.

"Hmmm," you hummed, grinning as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "I think you were about to make me forget my own name."

Robb smiled, a real, proper smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "My favorite thing to do."

He reclaimed your lips, one arm braced by your head, the other pushing your nightdress up, helping you pull it over over your head. Your skin tingled in the firelight, the cold air a shock before the heat of him returned.

He kissed down your stomach, and your hands tangled in his curls as he settled between your thighs again. His gaze met yours over the plane of your body, dark and adoring, and then he lowered his head, and the world narrowed to the point of his mouth on you.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he worked you with his tongue, slow, languid strokes that built a tight, aching knot deep inside you. Every flick, every suck, every breath against your slick heat was deliberate, practiced. He knew exactly what you liked, exactly what made your breath hitch, exactly what made you arch off the bed.

He murmured something against your skin, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through you. Your whole body tensed as he sped up, a relentless rhythm that made your toes curl, that made your own moans sound distant, unfamiliar. His name was a prayer on your lips as he pushed you over the edge, your entire body shattering in a wave of blinding, perfect release.

He stayed with you through it, gentling his touch as you came down, pressing soft kisses to your stomach until you were trembling and pliant, blinking back stars.

When he finally moved back over you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. You could feel him, hot and hard and insistent against your thigh, but he made no move to hurry, content to just kiss you slow and deep, stroking your hair back from your damp forehead.

You pressed your hands against his chest, a gentle push that he answered easily.

You rolled with him, settling on top, straddling him. He looked up at you, firelight catching in his hair, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. He watched you as you positioned him, watched you as you slowly sank down, taking him inch by inch.

You both groaned at the connection, the familiar, perfect stretch of him. You began to move, a slow, rolling rhythm that had him fisting the furs, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

His hands came up to grip your waist, guiding you, encouraging you.

"There you go," he rasped, his head thrown back. "Just like that, my love. You're perfect."

You leaned forward, changing the angle, and the friction shot straight through you, pulling another moan from your lips. He sat up then, wrapping an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. The new position left you breathless, every thrust deeper, more deliberate. His face was buried in your neck, his hands gripping your ass, moving you against him.

"Robb," you gasped, your own hands fisted in his hair.

"I know," he breathed, his voice ragged. "I know. Come with me. Come with me now, love."

And you did. It was a slower, deeper wave this time, a crest that broke again and again as you continued to move together, your bodies slick with sweat, your breath mingling in the frigid air. He followed you over, a choked groan against your skin as he pulsed inside you, filling you with his warmth.

After, you stayed tangled, a mess of limbs and heavy breaths. He kissed your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, small, soft kisses that made your chest ache.

Then, from the hallway, came a loud, mournful howl.

And then another.

Robb stilled, then started to chuckle, a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated through your chest. You couldn't help but join in, burying your face in his shoulder, your body shaking with laughter.

"I'm going to skin that wolf," Robb said, but there was no heat in it. "Make a lovely rug for our chambers."

"He's just protective," you mumbled against him.

"He's a menace," he corrected, but he was smiling. He rolled, pulling you with him so you were curled against his side, your head on his chest. The fire crackled, the only other sound in the room besides the occasional, pathetic whine from the other side of the door.

He drew patterns on your back, a slow, lazy path up and down your spine. "Maybe we should just leave him out there. A night in the cold might teach him a lesson."

"Now you are being cruel," you chided, sitting up to look at him. "He'll think we're angry with him."

"I am angry with him," he said, though he pulled you back down for another kiss, this one slow and sweet. "He interrupted his king."

You laughed, a soft, happy sound. "Well his queen has granted him mercy."

You slipped from the bed, pulling your discarded nightgown over your head. You padded to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open just a crack.

A huge, furry head pushed its way in immediately, a wet nose nudging your hand and a low whine rumbling in Grey Wind's chest. You knelt, scratching him behind the ears. "You are a troublemaker," you whispered.

He wagged his tail, thumping it against the stone floor and began to lick your face.You laughed, shoving gently at the wet nose now pressing insistently against your cheek. "Stop, stop-"

Grey Wind did not stop.

Behind you, the bed creaked. When you glanced back, Robb had pushed himself up on one elbow, watching you both with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and something unbearably soft. The furs had slipped to his waist. Firelight painted warm lines across his chest.

"You're too soft on him," he said, but his voice had gone quiet. Tired. The good kind of tired.

"You're too hard on him." You crawled back onto the mattress, and Grey Wind followed immediately, settling his considerable weight at the end of the bed like he'd never been banished at all.

Robb opened his mouth. You raised an eyebrow.

He closed it.

You smiled and curled into his side, your head finding its place on his chest like it had a thousand times before. His arm came around you immediately, hand finding your hip beneath the furs.

Grey Wind sighed. A great, rumbling sound, and then flopped down across your feet.

Robb huffed a laugh against your hair, his hand tracing slow patterns on your skin. His breathing evened out first. Then Grey Wind's, a low rumble you felt through your toes.

You were almost there yourself when Robb's lips brushed your forehead.

"Love you," he whispered. Half asleep already.

You smiled into his chest. "Love you too. Both of you."

Grey Wind's tail thumped once against the mattress.

And the three of you slept.

“Shhh, I know…” The Queen could only moan out as those emerald eyes of hers began to roll back. The dim light of the candles flickering in as the evening continued. Cersei gently reached for her love’s golden locks; so similar to her own as her back arched. “That is a good girl,” she whispered her praises with ease as pleasure began to move through her body. Her Princess only hummed against her; body shivering at the words coming her way. Cersei moaned as her sweet, sensitive clit was lapped at with growing hunger. It seemed her daughter was good at following instructions. “This is all to be a good wife, sweet girl.” Cersei lied as easily as she always did. It was only about her own pleasure but soon enough she would have the Princess squealing before her.

The Queen knew she was completely untouched. Cersei had made sure of such things; not that her Princess would ever know that. No, the Princess would be safe in her embrace; it was the only place she would be, Cersei thought to herself as her head fell back onto the soft pillows. Goosebumps easily began to move over her soft skin as the Princess only moaned against her some more. The Princess only stared up at her mother; her hunger only growing as she watched the reactions she could pull from the usual cold Queen. But her mother was never like that with her, especially when she was between her thighs. Her tongue slowly circled Cersei’s sweet tasting clit as she whined; lapping at her like a kitten.

A kitten was exactly what Cersei thought her darling Princess was as her body arched from the sheets once more. Gods, she was ever this sensitive before but now it seemed each touch sent shivers down her spine. A soft gasp escaped the Queen as her love’s warm tongue pushed in and began to thrust in and out whilst her moans vibrated against her sweet, creamy pussy. The Princess gently reached for Cersei’s hips and brought her impossibly close as her hunger only reached new heights, much to the Queen’s delight. Shyly, she reached for those soft breasts whilst her eyes began to flutter shut. Cersei could not keep her climax from appearing now as she reached for the sheets; her hold on them only tightening.

“Good girl, that’s it – ah,” The Queen moaned without care as her bright locks cascaded around her like a halo. The wet, obscene noises of her sweet Princess lapping away; sucking on her clit as Cersei was so sweetly pushed over the edge. Her hand tightened in her daughter’s locks as she began to rock against her lips. The Princess moaned and greedily took all that the Queen before her gave. Cersei began to gently stroke her locks as the sweet girl rested against her thigh. Cersei motioned for her girl to come closer and the Princess began to crawl up her body. Her soft breasts brushed against the Queen’s body before she stopped as their faces came to level.

The Queen only smiled up at her; their matching, bright eyes locked onto one another before Cersei leaned in. Their lips soon pressed against each other as the Princess only whined against her Queen once more; their tongues dancing with practised ease. Her fingers brushed through her daughter’s locks and kept her impossibly close. Cersei wrapped her arms around the Princess as she gently manoeuvred the pair of them so she hovered on top now. “Such a good girl,” the Queen cooed her praises as she watched the soft, pink blush come over the cheeks of her sweet girl. Her fingers brush against her face; the cold touch of the gold, lion ring that adorned the Queen’s finger caused a shiver down her spine as she leaned into the touch.

“Mama…” She whispered; their noses brushing together as they stared into each other's eyes. A rare smile tugged on the lips of the Queen as she only looked down at her Princess. “You are mine, hmm?” Cersei whispered so sweetly. The Queen peppered her face with soft kisses as her lovely girl nodded and burrowed her head into her neck. “Will I have to marry?” The Princess whispered into her ear as she wrapped her arms around Cersei to only bring her impossibly closer. The Queen gently stroked up and down her sides as the silence in the room continued. “One day, my girl.” Cersei whispered; her heart tightening at the mere thought of her daughter walking down an aisle.

In the arms of another. Of a man, Cersei thought to herself whilst her hold on the Princess only tightened as if she could keep her there forever. If only the world was a kinder place but for now, she would take these moments they had together. Their noses brushed together once more as she began to press sweet kisses on her face. “But you will always be here, I will make sure of that.” The Queen whispered her promises as the Princess cuddled into her neck some more. Gently, Cersei cupped her chin; their matching, bright eyes locking together. “I promise.” The Queen whispered as the Princess could only softly smile and believe her mother; the promise soon sealed with a kiss.

It would be helpful for her husband to die soon, the Queen thought to herself as her fingers gently traced abstract patterns on her soft skin. Robert had many proposals for his daughter’s hand sitting on his desk; ignored for now. Cersei would keep her Princess as close as she could before picking the best marriage for her. But for now - she was all hers and the Queen would make sure of taking every advantage of that as her hands only continued to wander. Cersei began to play with her locks as the Princess sweetly mouthed at her soft neck. Her mother’s scent was as ever so comforting as was the actions the Princess did which had Cersei shivering.

but then that very same night he’s four or five ciders deep and stumbling around the castle trying to find you with a drunken smile on his face.

you’re just minding your own business reading before bed when the knocking starts.

“are you awake, love?”

you can hear from his voice that raymun’s drunk, the way he’s slurring his speech ever so slightly and the way his words hold just a little tinge of mischief to them.

when you open the door and he finally see’s you standing before him, he’s just humming so happily and taking you into his arms as he shuts the door behind him.

“raymun.. you shouldn’t be in here..” you’d say, trying to pat his head of curls while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

“mm, missed you..” is all he mutters, just as his hands rest on your hips and slide down to give your arse a firm squeeze.

he’s already laying soft kisses over your neck and you’re just sighing softly and shutting your eyes before logic hits you and you push at his chest softly and turn around to take a few steps away towards the small table in your chambers.

“we can’t…”

and he’s just groaning and complaining like a grumpy toddler.

“please love..” he groans, wrapping his arms around you from behind and grinding his length against your ass.

“can’t you feel how hard my cock is for you..?”

and gods above, you can.

he’s gripping the thin fabric of your nightgown, pulling it up to your hips and letting his hand run down your stomach before disappearing between your legs.

he runs his fingers through your folds, feeling how slick you are already and he just sighs into your neck.

“just let me taste you at least, love…”

you’re already moaning softly while he rubs small circles over your clit, feeling your back arch as your ass pressed harder against his clothed cock.

turning around in his arms, he smiles so sweetly at you, it’s practically impossible to say no.

without a word, you lift yourself onto the table and he grins as he realises what you’re doing, lowering down to his knees and gripping your thighs.

pulling your dress back to reveal your glistening cunt, raymun lets out a groan from the back of his throat, only sparing a few quick kisses along your inner thighs before he’s burying his head between your thighs.

he’s impatient, you can tell by the way his tongue licks a long stripe of your slit, the way he’s flicking his tongue over your clit while he starts to push his fingers inside of you.

this isn’t the first time by any means, not the first time raymun’s begged to taste you, the only thing he hasn’t done yet is actually fuck you, and yet everything else seems to be well and truly on the table.

each time it happens, he says it’s going to be the last before you’re finally married, but it never is.

whether it’s letting your hand slip down his pants as he moans against your shoulder or taking his cock in your mouth and swallowing every drop of cum he gives you, it’s never the last time.

his cheeks are flushed and he’s moaning, the sloppy noises emitting from between your legs more than a testament to how desperate he was for your cunt.

“i’m not going to last long, love..” he groans.

you nod in understanding, though you can’t form any words as he continues to lap at your pussy.

he’s taken his cock out his pants, fucking his fist quickly and desperately as he eats your pussy, just the taste of you alone paired with your soft moans of his name, it’s enough to have him nearing his peak quickly.

when he stops, you look across as him with a disappointed whine, but you watch him stand up quickly, continuing to pump his cock fiercely, resting one of his hands on the underside of your thigh as he pants.

within seconds, he’s stilling his hips and letting out a deep moan, his cock twitching before it lets out multiple spurts of cum, letting them fall onto your pussy and inner thighs.

he rides out his orgasm, his head tipping back as he shuts his eyes and his mouth falls open, his adam’s apple bobbing as he chokes out strained moans of your name.

Being King in the North and fighting a war was not an easy task by any means. Robb's days were usually spent either fighting, listening to his lords give unsolicited advice for ruling a kingdom, or planning the war which had gotten him the name King in the North in the first place. It was incredibly stressful, especially on days when he felt as though he was useless and that the planning wasn't going at all how he wanted it to.

Robb was incredibly stressed, to say the least. His shoulders were tense, he felt irritable, he was exhausted, and he hadn't gotten to see you, his gorgeous wife, almost at all today except in the morning when he woke up before you to start his day. His men knew he had been having a rough day due to the amount of times Robb had snapped at them.

It was now late at night and Robb expected you to be asleep. As he walked towards your guys' shared tent, his annoyance only amplified as he almost tripped on a rock. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. As he approached the tent, he noticed the dim lighting that illuminated the tent, signaling you were still awake. He opened the tent flap and his eyes immediately found you.

There you were, lying on the bed in nothing more than a silk chemise that hugged your curves, as though you were waiting for Robb. You were lying on your side with a book beside you as a hand help your head up. A smile appeared on your lips as you saw Robb. You closed the book and sat up. "You're back," You said as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Robb only hummed in response as he stepped towards you. He was dressed in his usual garb of breeches, a shirt, boiled leather and his heavy fur cloak. "I thought you'd be asleep by now," He said as he stood in front of you, looking down.

"I wanted to stay up for you," You smiled softly at your handsome husband as your hands moved to rest of his torso through the heavy material of his fur cloak.

Robb couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his lips as he looked down at you. His hands moved to rest on your shoulders as he leaned down to press a kiss onto the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, relishing in the comfort of each other. Robb had missed you terribly, had missed your scent and the comfort of your presence.

You could feel the tension in Robb's demeanor and in the way his muscles were clenched. "Rough day?" You asked softly, breaking the curated silence between you both.

"You could say that," Robb murmured as he rested his head on top of yours.

You said nothing for a few moments as you thought about how you could possibly help your wonderful husband be not-so-stressed out. When an idea came to mind, you said nothing as you slid out of Robb's embrace. You sunk to your knees on the floor, your head right near Robb's crotch.

"Sweetheart?" Robb asked, looking down at you with a confused expression.

"Let me take care of you," You said as you looked up at Robb. "As your queen, it's my duty to make sure my king is properly taken care of." You brought your hands to Robb's thighs, gently massaging them through his breeches.

Robb let out a breath and licked his lips. "I suppose you're right," He agreed. He undid the clasp of his cloak, placing the fur on the bed, leaving him in just his boiled leather chest plate, tunic, and breeches.

You could see the semi-hard erection that he was already sporting through his pants. A small smirk appeared on your face while you looked at him. "I'm going to take such good care of you, my king," You murmured in a sultry tone as you leaned in, gently nuzzling Robb's clothed cock with your face.

"Fuck," He breathed out, turned on simply by watching you. You didn't often give Robb head, mostly because he preferred going down on you or pounding into your tight cunt. But when you did? You were a full on cock whore about it.

Your head rubbed against his cock, feeling it come to its full hardness. You looked up at Robb as you began planting kissing along the outside of his leather breeches, eliciting a shaky breath from your dear husband. You reached a hand to the laces, your fingers moving to slowly untie them. Robb undid his leather chest plate, throwing it somewhere in the room.

"You look so beautiful kneeling in front of me," Robb rasped. He licked his lips as he watched you undo the laces. When you finished, you gently tugged down the material just enough to reveal his cock. Robb let out a small hiss as the cold air hit his skin.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," You whispered, glancing up at him. You wrapped a hand around Robb's cock and leaned in to press a kiss onto the tip. Robb's hips jerked in response, sensitive to your touch. You moved your head down, planting a kiss onto the base and kissing your way up his length. When you reached back to the tip of his cock, you swiped your tongue across it.

Robb made a small noise and his hand went to rest on your head. "Gods," He breathed out as you slowly eased your mouth onto his cock. You made it about halfway before stopping and moving your head up his length. Robb groaned in pleasure as his eyes fluttered shut. "Sweetheart," He hummed out, his hands resting on the sides of your head. You began a slow rhythm of bobbing your head up and down Robb's length. You had one hand resting on Robb's thigh while the other moved to Robb's balls, gently massaging them.

Robb let out a shaky breath and moaned out your name, relishing in the pleasures of your mouth engulfing his cock. You began bobbing your head a bit faster, hollowing your cheeks a bit to add to the feelings. "Oh fuck," Robb whimpered out, unable to help the small thrust of his hips in sync with your mouth. "You feel so good, sweetheart," He said, throwing his head back.

You hummed around Robb's cock in response, sending vibrations through his length. Robb gripped your head firmly and paused your movements. You looked up at Robb, cock still in your mouth, confused with why he stopped you. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, his cheeks red and breath a bit heavy. "I'm going to fuck your mouth," He breathed out. "Pinch my thigh if you'd like me to stop, yeah?"

You gave a slight nod of your head and a hum of confirmation, eliciting a hiss from Robb's lips. You inhaled sharply through your nose before relaxing your throat, giving Robb the necessary access to fuck your mouth properly. You had done this a few times before and you absolutely loved it, almost as much as Robb did.

Robb drew his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained in your mouth. He then began moving slowly, his cock only going in about halfway. He didn't want to hurt you or force himself down your throat. He simply just wanted to be in control. "You're so beautiful like this," Robb sighed, looking at you as he moved his cock in and out of your mouth. "On your knees, cock in your mouth. Exactly where you belong, aye," His hips began moving a bit faster. "My dutiful queen."

You moaned at Robb's words as your hand stroked what couldn't fit into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks once again, sucking each time Robb moved his cock into your mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Robb moaned, losing himself in the pleasures of your mouth. He continued his thrusts, uncaring of how deep his cock was going until he felt the tip hit the back of your throat. He felt you gag around him but he could hardly care in that moment. Robb could feel the pressure building inside of him as his orgasm neared.

Tears formed in your eyes as Robb's cock hit the back of your throat. Being used in a manner such as this had never failed to turn you on. The times Robb would be far too gone, too engrossed in chasing his own release that he couldn't even think about being gentle, you craved it. Sometimes he was far too soft, worried far too much about hurting you, meanwhile you adored being used and manhandled. You clenched your thighs to relieve the tension you felt.

"Oh fuck," Robb whimpered as his release came near. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart, I'm so close," He said in that same whimpering tone. Robb's cock stiffened in your mouth and after a few more thrusts, Robb came with a loud cry of your name. He filled your mouth with his cum, rope after rope, and you, like the beautiful and wonderful wife you were, didn't hesitate to swallow each drop.

After a few moments, Robb pulled out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva and cum. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, taking in your appearance. There you were with glossy eyes, swollen and shiny lips, looking absolutely ethereal. He breathed heavily as he came down from his high. "Thank you," He breathed out, running a thumb across your cheek.

You smiled up at Robb. "You don't need to thank me," You replied, your voice hoarse. "I wanted to do it."

Robb reached out for your hands and helped you up. As you stood, he placed his hands on your hips. "Then perhaps I should return the favor," He murmured before leaning in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. He tasted himself but didn't care.