shokoy ｡˚○

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“rest easy, cousin.” you politely return.

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

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

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

“what are you doing?” you ask him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“they’re sailors.” you corrected.

“does it matter?” ormund hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so he left you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i came to see you, cousin.”

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

“what do you want?” he exhaled sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was all so utterly infuriating and unfair.

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

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

both, you had in abundance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you think he is a better knight than i?” one knight dared, looking battle-worn and offended and old.

“i dare not utter such words!” you said with a playful gasp. “but well, he did perform excellently in today's joust!”

the ladies and men around gave a hearty laugh at your jest, but the older knight did not seem to take it kindly. his white, wrinkled face grew red with rage, and it took him less than a minute to lose his temper in front of the entirety of the great hall. you jumped away from your pleasant company as the raging knight went to tackle ser gwayne. a loud roar echoed, and other men soon followed in the foolishness.

you managed to tackle gwayne out of the knight's way, your smaller body landing on top of him with a soft thud. gwayne's head spun, his nostrils inhaling the faint whiff of lemon on your hair from how close you were. your hand accidentally grazed his thighs in an attempt to lift your body from his.

the entire great hall had erupted in a frenzied chaos, meals and ale were strewn across the rooms as men of different houses started to brawl. 

your father was seated at the very end of the room, watching the sight with a disappointed gaze. 

quickly, you stood up, grabbing gwayne with you. the knight could barely register what was going on; your hand on his wrist, your voice calling for him, your feet running away at full speed; it all swirled around his vision, the noise clouding his thoughts until you finally pushed through the heavy doors of the great hall, still holding onto gwayne's wrist.

“finally, i thought we'd never escape,” you exhaled, releasing your hold on gwayne.

it seems you had taken him to the sept; a quiet, forgotten room at the end of the hallway leading up to lord boremund's throne room. a few candles had been lit, illuminating the dark room in a soft, orange light that seemed to effortlessly bounce off your features, highlighting your face with an ethereal glow. you cussed softly, seeing the leftovers of the food battle dripping down your tunic and onto the floor.

gwayne wondered why you had grabbed him instead of one of the many ladies that seemed to gape at your heels.

you turned from gwayne, walking towards the prayer table as you removed the tunic from yourself. you hadn't noticed gwayne watching from behind you, his eyes drawn to the natural lines across your body; the curve of your figure, the soft muscles in your arms and back, and some meat in your hips. gwayne wondered how soft they would feel on his hands.

he gulped, sweating across his entire body. perhaps it was the alcohol, but it seems like his senses had been heightened; he was more keenly aware of the heat in the room, and the fresh scent of lemon with a hint of dinner’s desserts on you.

“ser gwayne? is something the matter?” you asked, approaching him. “oh, you’re filthy.”

your hands picked at the leftovers on his tunic, your touch, gentle and thoughtful. gwayne felt as if he could melt right then and there from how close you were. 

your eyes wandered his body; his tunic was loose-fitted and revealed the lean muscle underneath. defined, but not so much that it overwhelms his whole image. his eyes held your gaze, as if he intended to get lost in you forever without so much as a word. he was pretty in the way knights from the storybooks were. like the knight your sisters dreamed of.

gwayne's hand lifted to your face, holding one side. you hadn't registered the action until his touch was on your skin. it was as if a fire had been lit all over your body, and you hadn't a reason why. yet your heart thumped loudly, your palms, clammy, and your muscles tensed.

it didn't seem gwayne knew much of what he was doing either. his other hand rested on your hip, keeping you close, as his face neared yours. somehow, you knew what it was he wanted; yet your body could not decide quickly enough what to do until his lips were on yours. it was a soft, yet desperate kiss. hungry and lustful all at once, and you answered in kind. your hands cradled his face, your lips chasing after the taste of his mouth on yours. 

a soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and gwayne's hands reached your neck, moving your head to the side so he could plant soft kisses along your jaw and neck. his body forced you to move backwards, stumbling until the back of your waist reached the edge of the prayer table. gwayne's eyes were on you the whole time; watching your every reaction, drinking it all up.

he pushed away all the candles on the table, letting them clatter to the ground without a single thought before he lifted you up the table, his arms hooked to the underside of your thighs. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, easily disposed to his every doing. you placed desperate kisses along the side of his face as his hands began to work on undoing your pants. 

they slipped down your legs without effort, and gwayne returned to your lips, soft and tender compared to his, he thinks. but he cared not for the feeling, but your taste; addictive in every way. upon your first meeting, you were sure with his age, he would have his fair share of a variety of partners, men and women alike. you thought there was no way he would see you, desire you in the same way you desired him. 

 yet here was, lips on yours.

the more desperately he kissed you, the more he started to hump his hips against your exposed cock. you tried to close your thighs, but they only tightened around his hips, seemingly bringing him closer to you.

“ser gwayne,” you managed to say, parting from his lips for a moment as you could feel your mind getting fuzzy.

“what is it?” he whispers against your cheek, nuzzling it as if he were an animal.

“it's… your cock..” you could feel it, hard against your inner thigh through the thin barrier of his pants. your hand had reached down to the tent between his legs.

as you grasped his clothed cock in your hand, you gently massaged it, watching as gwayne groaned softly. you smiled, pressing yourself close to him as your hands effortlessly began undoing his pants. they were bundled on his ankles within moments, and gwayne's cock hung hot and half-hard, throbbing with need.

“ser…” as you grasped his heavy cock with both hands, you tugged him closer to you and teased,  “is this poor thing desperate for a hole?” 

gwayne nodded, rolling his hips to get his cock to move between your hands. you bit your lip at the heavy feeling. but gwayne wasn't one to let his partner do all the work for him; as you slowly and painfully stroked his cock, his hand cradled your face. you gazed up at him through your dark lashes, eyes half-lidded as he pushed his thumb past your lips. his index and middle fingers followed soon after, exploring the internal space of your mouth and gathering up a generous amount of your saliva between his fingers. 

gwayne moaned softly, he never thought it was possible to feel any sort of pleasure from his fingers, but the more his fingers invaded your mouth, the more daring your tongue had gotten, toying with the spaces between his fingers.

“fuck,” he pulled his fingers away and cursed, seeing how wet his fingers were. 

he guided one finger down to your hole, and smoothly pierced through the tight ring. you gasped sharply. his fingers moved slowly at first, trying to gain some momentum, which your hands on his cock tried to match in pace. gwayne added another finger, thrusting in and out.

“ser gwayne… f-fuck—nghh…” you groaned, leaning into his shoulder.

“what is it, little one? are you in pain?” his fingers stopped as he noticed how your hands suddenly stopped, your breathing growing quicker. 

“n-noo…. why have you stopped?” you whined softly. hearing such a noise from you made a smile form on gwayne's lips.

he kissed your cheek and pushed you down the table until your back was pressed against the cool stone. he returned his lips to yours and lifted your legs, his elegant fingers wrapped around the meat of your thighs as he pressed your knees up to your chest.

“ser,” you moaned softly at the feeling of his lips on your bare chest. 

“gwayne,” he mumbles. “refer to me as gwayne.”

“gwayne…” his name rolled off your tongue perfectly in a breathless whisper. your arms cradled his head closer to you, your thighs spread to accommodate him, and his cock was hard and heavy against your waiting hole.

yet you still felt something lacking. you yearned for more; more of gwayne and his seemingly boundless desires. the older knight had seen many a battle unlike you, and has certainly fucked many whores before you as well. you were sure he could do better than treat you like another one of his whores.

“gwayne,” you called. “more… fuck—just fucking get in me… please…” 

gwayne seemed to be surprised at your sudden words, and his face reflected it for a moment. 

“are you sure, little one?” he asked. “impatience could bring you pain.”

“i'm not so little and so delicate, ser.” you hissed, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring him closer. “if you wish to fuck me, then do so as if you mean to destroy me.”

gwayne seemed to take your words to heart. he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head with one hand alone, as his other began to guide the head of his cock to your hole. 

“do not regret tempting me.” he said with a smirk.

by the seven, you’d never experienced such a thrilling moment ever before in your life. as his cock threatened to split you in half, you couldn't help but feel excited, yet terrified all at once. he wasn't exactly an easy fit. 

yet the head of his cock pierced through the ring of your ass, and you struggled to accommodate him fully. hot tears spilled forth from your eyes, and it did not seem to bother gwayne in the slightest; all he was interested in right now, was fitting all of his cock inside of your deliciously tight hole.

“‘tis too much, ser… go slowly,” you whimpered, trying to move, but his hand on your locked wrists, and his entire body weight on yours, kept you from moving at all.

“is this not what you wanted, little one?’ gwayne chuckled, as if amused by your pain. “you wished for me to destroy you, yes?”

the embarrassment of your earlier words began to settle in your nerves, and you tried to turn your face away from him, yet ser gwayne seemed to care less and less for your feelings, and only more for the feeling of you wrapped around his rock hard cock. his lips connected with yours in a searing kiss as he lifted your leg to his shoulder, driving his cock deeper in your ass. 

“f-fuck..! you're too tight—!” gwayne moaned sharply, fingers so tight on your thigh it threatened to pierce through the flesh. his nails left crescent markings on your skin, and his lips wandered your jaw and neck, leaving more marks on your skin with his teeth.

“gwayne… i swear—nghh… it's too.. much…” your breaths grew quick as he rolled his hips, his cock filling up every bit of space inside you.

as soon as gwayne became comfortable, he started thrusting faster, harder, deeper into you, until all your thoughts were only of him. you could do nothing but lay there, back against the stone table as he pistoned his cock in and out of your hole. your breathing was choppy and uneven, as every thrust of his cock inside you made you feel as if he was punching the air straight out of your lungs.

gwayne squeezed his eyes shut, breaths laboured, and all the blood rushing straight to his cock. it throbbed deep inside you, pulsing with need, threatening to release inside you with every movement. 

“g-gwayne—! f-fuckk… ughh..nghhh…!” whimpers and mutters of his name were all that managed to escape your lips, and gwayne relished in all the sounds that came from you. 

yet still, he wished for more from you. he released his hold on your wrists, now using both hands to lift your legs, pressing your knees up to your chest as he drove his cock deeper and deeper inside you.

“fuck…scream for me, little one,” gwayne coos at your ear. “let me hear how good i’m making you feel.”

“d-don't want—!” you managed to say, shaking your head.

your response didn’t seem to please gwayne all too much. so he picked up the pace, forcing the screams out of your lungs.

the feeling of his cock inside you, utterly destroying you in every pleasurable way possible, was all that filled your hazy mind. whines and screams spilled from your bruised lips as the older man plowed through your hole like he would die if he stopped. you could barely hold yourself back. your cock spurted white between you, and your senses were overwhelmed, yet gwayne continued moving his cock, in and out of you.

“g-gwaynnee…!” you clung to him like he was a lifeline; crying and sobbing, speaking no more words as you knew it would only fall onto deaf ears.

“still so tight, aren’t you, little one?” gwayne chuckled against your ear, his movements growing sloppy. “fuck… this hole’s so… fuckin’ good…!”

gwayne buried his cock deep inside you and finally, he came, filling up your insides as he held your hips, your voice, but a high shriek as you came again, weaker than earlier, but a pleasurable release nonetheless. the knight kissed your cheek with a soft smile.

“beautiful performance, my little lord.” 

“fuck, this needs to be quick, little one.” a few months had passed, and gwayne would always find a reason to see you in storm’s end, even if the journey was long and arduous. now, he had met you again in your secret rendezvous spot in your father’s castle; the sept. the place where you first and last held each other, where gwayne completely and utterly made you his.

he had stripped you of all your clothing, leaving you bare before his eyes while he still had most of his clothes worn. you didn’t care all too much though, you knew what would follow, so you quickly got on your knees before him, undoing his pants like you’ve done countless times in the past. his cock met your face, and you grinned at the heavy thing you held so tenderly in your hands.

you swallowed his entire length in one go. gwayne sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers carding through your dark hair and finding its grip on your scalp. you moaned around his length, the vibrations of your voice drawing him closer to his release. he moaned, thrusting his hips against your mouth, caring little for every choked sound you make every time his cock pushes down your throat. 

he’s closer to his release, and you can tell. he tries to hold in his moans with a bite of his lips, a hand brushing his hair back, but the occasional grunt slips past his lips every now and then.

gwayne suddenly pulls his cock out of your throat, and he holds his cock by the base. he gives his cock a few strokes, his eyes glued to your face; tongue hanging out in anticipation of his release, looking up at him as if you mean to worship him whole-heartedly.

“fuck…” he groaned, his release shooting all across your face in continuous spurts. you received it all as best as you could, but most of your face was now stained with his cum.

gwayne looked up, his gaze meeting the eyes of the stone statue of the mother, gazing down upon him with serene eyes, yet he felt as if he was being judged; here at her feet, he was a willing participant in this sinful act with you between his legs, eagerly sucking his hard cock. you noticed his distraction, yet you made no move to stop. his cock was drenched in a mixture of his cum and your saliva, and you couldn’t help but think of how easy it would probably fit into your hole.

but as your mind was about to drift elsewhere, gwayne had suddenly pushed you down on the stone floor. the way he handled your body was unlike any experience you’ve had with him before. his grip was iron, his gaze intense, it was like he was a different man. yet you found yourself submitting to him rather than resisting. it was still his warmth that pressed against your back, his calloused hands that wandered your body, his lips that left bruises along your skin. 

he slipped his cock inside you without any resistance and you welcomed him completely. a breathless moan escaped your lips as gwayne began to thrust in earnest, face buried at the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. 

“my darling, dearest…” gwayne muttered. “never leave my side.”

“never,” you whispered, hand cradling his face as he continued to thrust into you. 

“everything i am is yours.” you swore. “so take me, ser, take all of me.”

gwayne withdrew at your words. he gazed down at your smooth back, the smallest hint of your spine peeking through the skin. his hand gently grazes the bone, drawing up and up and up, until his fingers grasped at your stray locks and he tightened. he pulled your head back, forcing you to look up, to gaze up at the mother. 

“may thy mother forgive her son, for this deepest, darkest sin he has indulged.” you hear gwayne mutter from above you. “may thy merciful mother forgive me, for this harm i have brought upon another.”

you threw yourself forward, face against the stone as you heard gwayne continue uttering prayers you could not be bothered to pay attention to. his cock was a far more interesting subject than his religious delirium. at times, you noticed gwayne gaze upon the religious stone statues in the sept, yet he’s never outwardly uttered a prayer before.

his fingers gripped your hair again as if to anchor himself as he thrusted deeper. you exhaled sharply, the pain, the rough handling of your body as if you were being fucked by a savage and not a knight; it was supposed to be painful, yet it wasn't. for you, it was probably the closest feeling you'll get to experiencing heaven. 

“what is this?!”

in all your deep-thinking and distractions, you hadn’t noticed the door opening. your cousin, arrion, stood at the entry, gazing upon you in shock. yet you could not bring yourself to stop. and it seems gwayne felt similarly. he stopped his praying altogether and focused all his willpower into fucking his cock deeper into you. 

“my—apologies, ser arrion—!” gwayne grunted, thrusting his cock powerfully into your tight hole. “an explanation… shall—follow… fuck…!”

“fuck me harder, ser… show my pathetic..cousin, how to fuck right… ngaahh..!” your voice grew muffled at the end as gwayne pressed your face into the stone floor, caring little for your comfort at all. 

your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you let your voice echo throughout the sept. your cousin had remained frozen in place, watching with his mouth agape, as the hightower knight fucked you into the stone like a madman, and you appeared blissful, your voice and expression filled with pure lust and ecstasy.

and with one final, powerful thrust of his hips, gwayne came deep inside you, and you came with a shuddering shriek, your mind numbed to pleasure and your body completely limp and powerless. 

only then had you noticed that your cousin had left.

but alicent feared for you. she feared the vipers of king's landing would poison the purity of you one day, so she made the heartbreaking decision to send you to oldtown, after your brother daeron.

so upon your tenth name day, you were sent away to oldtown, to be raised a hightower with your youngest brother and more faithful cousins.

it did not please you to leave the comfort of your family, but the hightowers were your kin as well, unfortunately, and you disliked the daily reminder from whenever you would pass by one of your cousins or uncles.

your hightower blood was a subject of your ire, you, who was raised to believe in the superiority of the dragon's blood in your veins and the power of your valyrian name. it shamed you to know it is weakened by your mother's blood, and everyday, you cursed yourself for it, despite your father claiming you as his, and the dragon that hatched upon your cradle during the earliest months of your life. 

your avid dislike for the hightowers was well-known in oldtown, especially among the devoted septons of the faith. yes, you played the part of the honorable targaryen prince, but you were surrounded by men of unyielding faith to their gods; men who would sooner spit in your face than accept you as a true man of honor. every time they would put down your father's blood to raise up your mother's, you would dare to wield your tongue against them.

your ancestry was a curse in the eyes of the faithful men; an abomination of all that was pure and good. who were they to dictate what was right and wrong when you yourself had a mighty dragon that would burn their cities down in a heartbeat.

“you seem distracted, brother.” you gave your brother, daeron, an exhausted look as you were pulled away from the thoughts that otherwise had you occupied. 

the hand that held your sword dropped to your side as you brushed your hair back. “what is occupying your mind?”

you sighed, planting your steel blade on the ground. your gaze turned upwards, where the beacon of the hightower seemed to climb high into the skies. a moment passed and your brother approached your side. you turned to him, smiling softly.

“nothing, sweet brother.” you assured him. 

the blade in your hand is polished and sharp, yet you felt the sudden, undeniable urge to clean and sharpen it further; or perhaps it was the growing discomfort in your nerves that willed you away. before you could walk that far, your brother called after you.

“do you hate it here?” he asked you, and your movements paused.

“of course not, why would you ask me such a thing?” you chuckled, though it sounded strained. 

your brother caught on to you immediately. “speak the truth, brother. what is on your mind?” 

you turned to face him fully, observing his youthful face. just a few years ago, he was a round-faced brat who followed around the craven cunt you called uncle, ser ormund, around the halls of the hightower; filling his cup, clumsily helping him dress, fetching him his books and letters. you hated the sight of it. and now, as he was growing nicely into his features, he would surely become the subject of admiration for the various ladies in the realm. you place a gentle hand on his cheek, your eyes falling to his reddish hair, and your smile dissipates.

“it's nothing for you to worry over, sweet boy, i assure you.” you tell him. 

from behind him, you could see your other uncle approaching. ser gwayne was your mother's only brother, and perhaps the only honorable man in a realm of fiends. that did not mean you liked him any more than your other hightower kin. he approaches with a quickness in his stride. you offer a small smile to your brother before you try to escape in a hurry.

“my prince, where are you off to, pray tell?” he calls after you.

“my apologies, uncle. i feel quite unwell today, and wish to be left at peace for a speedy recovery.” you managed a strained smile before walking away, never turning back.

“fuck,” you cussed sharply when your blade draws blood from your fingertip.

after you had retired to your bedroom, you hoped no one would come to disturb your peace until supper came knocking on your door. but just as you were cleaning your blade, a knock echoed. you groaned, tossing the white cloth aside as you laid your sword unto your bedside, a string of curses leaving your breath. 

“ser gwayne hightower, my prince.” announced the knight from outside your chamber.

“what could he possibly want?” you scowled, your voice coming out louder and more aggressive than usual.

“i wish to speak with you, my prince.” it was his voice, your uncle's, that carried through this time. 

“fuck, why?” you cursed softly under your breath, massaging your forehead with your fingers as you contemplated on letting him in or denying him completely. you thought about turning him away now, and it seemed like such a tempting decision, but sooner or later, he would come to bother you again. 

“very well,” your sigh came out deeper than you intended just as the doors to your room swung open. ser gwayne waltzed in, seemingly amused at the exasperated expression on your face.

“daeron is quite worried about you,” he began. “shut out your hightower kin if you must, but be kind to him.”

“is this a lecture?” you stand, annoyed.

“it is not, my prince,” he tried to say. “i merely wish to convey that—”

“consider your message, conveyed, uncle.” you try to push past him, making for the door.

but his hand shoots out and grasps your wrist. his grip was iron, and your entire body froze in place. you glanced down at the hand on you, and your eyes trailed upwards, shooting a dangerous glare at the man before you. but ser gwayne did not seem fearful, in fact, it was the opposite; he almost appeared to be amused. you tried to pull your wrist back, a weak attempt at first, a warning, but he would not ease his hold. 

“what is it that troubles you, my prince?” gwayne carefully asks. “if you will not speak to me, i will have daeron return here every day to converse with you.”

“are you truly so deaf that you must send my favorite brother on such a useless errand?” you sneered. “i'm as blissfully delighted as i possibly can be.”

the fake, overexaggerated smile on your lips did little to sway him. the man exhaled sharply, grip still tight on you as he dragged you to your desk, forcing you to sit. your glare remained poisonous on your overbearing uncle.

“speak, boy.” 

you raised a brow in confusion. no one had ever referred to you as such. you wondered now, what his plan was. you remained firm on your self-inflicted oath to never speak your innermost thoughts to your hightower kin as you thought them undeserving, rather, they would have your tongue for whatever it was on your thoughts every day.

“it is nothing.” you replied sharply.

“i do not believe your words one bit.” ser gwayne raised his brows. “years have passed since you first arrived, and all you ever did was brood and scowl at the people who have been nothing but welcoming to you. have we not been accommodating enough, my prince?”

upon hearing his words, you were stunned, not because you felt touched by his words, but because of the sheer stupidity of it. you snorted. then a moment later, and the sound of loud laughter escaped your lips. the first time you've laughed since you came to oldtown some ten or so years ago. gwayne's expression was a mixture of dumbfounded and awe-struck at the first laugh you had ever produced in front of him.

you stood before your uncle, your laughter having finally subsided. a smile graced your lips, and not the strained kind of smile you always wore for the hightower's, but a genuine smile that unnerved even ser gwayne. you stepped closer to him, approaching every time he tried to escape with a step back. 

“accomodating, you say? and yet, i know what it is you people speak about me behind closed doors,” you spat, stepping closer as your hands remained interlocked behind you. 

“that the only redeemable part of myself is my mother's blood, that i am tainted and impure because of my valyrian blood… and yet, i believe it is the opposite...” when you spoke, gwayne thought you mad.

you circled your uncle's figure, noting the slight tremor in his hands, the nervous movement of his throat, his eyes darting around to follow your every movement. he felt completely and utterly exposed, like prey that has accepted death at the jaws of a predator.

“it is this… hightower blood that has tainted me, uncle,” you say, a shudder in your voice. “do you know what it feels like, uncle? to feel.. repulsed by the very blood that runs through your veins?”

you stopped in front of him, standing perfectly still. you were a head shorter than him, yet here you stood, with a menacing presence looming tall over your honorable uncle. it is your hands this time that grasp at him, his clothes, smoothing over his tunic with an almost loving graze of your fingers on him. your hands make for his nape, a gentle touch to the skin beneath his hair while your eyes remain predatory and venomous. you could feel the tremble in his breath, the sweat that ran down his skin the closer you got, and the painful thrum of his heart against his chest.

you smiled sweetly before parting from him. “you know now what is on my mind, uncle. would that be all?”

for the next few days, your run-ins with your uncle have been brief, yet… exciting. he was always proper with you, even though he always seemed to be the subject of your fluctuating moods. some moments he would find you difficult and angry, some other times, he would find you poisonous and sweet, in a sickening way. 

you pass by each other in quiet hallways at times, your fingers wandering a little too close to his, and he would give you a hard look before continuing on his journey elsewhere. it was amusing to no end, this game of cat and mouse with your uncle as you sought to tease him with every touch, every whisper, every thing about you. you would sooner have him wrapped around your finger.

“it seems your mood has improved lately, brother.” daeron remarks one day.

“really? i think i called one of the server boys a cunt the other day.” you remark casually, earning a chuckle from your brother.

you were by his side, watching the courtyard below from the balcony as the knights squabbled to gain the upper hand in their sword fights. a goblet of wine was on your hand, the other, resting casually on the balcony edge. down there, was your uncle, ormund, seemingly a beast of pride and ego right now after having won a few spars. but you were well aware that those knights had purposefully lost; had they actually won, they would have been whipped by your uncle behind closed doors before day's end.

“has gwayne finally broken through your walls?” daeron asks.

“you little rat,” you laugh, turning to him. “did you have him speak to me?” 

“well, i—”

“drinking so early in the noon is unbecoming of a prince.” your lighthearted smile faded from your lips.

you turned your head, the sight before you was of your uncle gwayne's this time. he had his hands behind him as he glanced in your direction, as if expecting a reply. you smirked, tossing your head to the side, your eyes scanning his figure.

“i find my stomach is far more agreeable when i have a few sips in the daylight than before bed.” you reply, twirling the bronze goblet in your hand. gwayne offers a small, polite smile that seemed strained.

“come, prince daeron. lord ormund wishes to see the limits of your training.” gwayne refers to your brother. ushering him away from you now.

daeron gives you a smile before obediently joining his uncle. but as they were about to leave, you called after them, 

“ser gwayne, i believe my brother knows his way without you.” you mentioned, your face conveying a message to your uncle to let your brother go ahead. 

“i could at least escort him down,” ser gwayne chuckled, and you eyed the light sweat running down the sides of his face.

“oh, worry not, uncle, he has others to.. accommodate him.” you pressed, your eyes narrow and commanding.

yet gwayne held your gaze.

daeron looked between you, quite unsure of who to follow, until you motioned for your brother to take his leave. your goblet was running on empty as well, so you passed it on to a servant and shooed them away, leaving you alone with your uncle. gwayne, it seems, took a deep breath before facing you fully.

“join me, uncle?” your words were asked in a way that seemed like a request, but to gwayne's ears, they were orders; orders he could not bring himself to resist.

he joined your side by the balcony edge, looking over to watch daeron come up to ormund. they prepared for sparring, using true blades. you chuckled softly. gwayne stole a glance in your direction; wondering what you were up to this time, wondering when you would strike at him again.

“i hear my mother will be visiting soon, with aegon and helaena.” you spoke first. your words seemed to surprise ser gwayne, and he could feel his tense shoulders loosen for a moment. “are you looking forward to seeing her, uncle?”

“it has been quite a while since we last saw each other. i hope her visit will be… uneventful.” he eyes your reaction, and all you do is laugh.

“fret not, uncle, i will be on my best behavior.” you assure him, your voice containing a slight hint of mischief.

“fuck!” you both turn your gaze downwards, to where ormund's sword clattered to the floor, and daeron stood before him, his hold on his blade trembling slightly. 

“i should… go and fetch the prince.” gwayne hastily excuses himself from you.

you did not utter a reply as he walked away in a hurry. your eyes continue to follow him, still, and you smirked. 

your mother's visit was not something you particularly looked forward to. she would most likely scold you plentily for not returning any of her letters, unlike your little brother. yet you came down from your chambers anyway, to greet her and your siblings. 

you eyed your twin brother. he looked far worse than the last time you saw him. his eyes seemed downturned and sluggish, and you dared to venture that his height was not nearly enough to reach even daeron's shoulder. you gazed down at him, it seemed he was ruining the valyrian beauty he had been blessed with. his eyes met yours in a hateful stare, yet you met his with an amused one.

“brother,” you acknowledged him. “you seem shorter than the last time we met.” 

“and yet you seem more whorish than i remember.” he hissed in response to your insulting words.

“enough, aegon.” your mother steps between you immediately.

she looked up at you, looking exhausted and worn, yet happy for some reason, perhaps it is because she has finally laid her eyes upon you again. as she took in your image from head to toe, she wondered how beautiful aegon would look had he better looked after himself.

“my son,” she reaches for your hands, and you allow her to hold them. “you're beautiful…”

her hands cradle your face, taking in your unsullied valyrian features, well-groomed with not the sluggishness of your elder brother's vices. you can tell her pride has inflated with meeting you, the perfect image of your father's beauty before he had fallen into illness. you smile softly and lean into her touch. 

she has helaena come close, and you offer your good sister a small smile as she gives you her hand. her hand is smaller in yours as you take it to your lips to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. 

the whole event was a beautiful reunion, especially after daeron had come in. he was much more eager than you to see your family. while you had some time with them during your youth to be raised among them, daeron did not; he was sent away earlier than you, and had only a few fond memories of them during their visits. 

it was touching, indeed, to see them again.

and it was more touching for you to have your brother so desperate for your attention again after spending years apart. 

when he visited your room late into the eve, you were sure you would erupt in a frenzy of arguments and debates as your tempers clashed over wine, as you always had during your youth, and yet, he came to you in your bed, smelling of the fragrant wine you were sure he was drunk on. he practically jumped into your embrace.

“did you miss me, elder brother?” you teased, your hand softly stroking his weeping length.

“fuck no,” he hissed, and a faux pout formed on your lips. your hand stopped moving, eliciting a whine from him.

“try again?” you suggested, your lips dangerously close to his ear.

“y-yes—fuuck, yes…!” he held onto your shoulders, his toes curling into the sheets as he panted heavily, leaning closer to your chest as whined softly.

you chuckled, your hand moving faster as you kissed your brother's temple. his cock wept at the tip, staining your pale fingers the faster you moved. another laugh escapes your throat at the sight of your brother being at your complete and utter mercy. what a truly beautiful sight, and you thought you'd never be blessed to see it again. aegon's hands clawed at your emerald tunic, as if trying to tear the expensive fabric to get under your skin.

you tutted, your hand stopping entirely. “naughty boy, if you wish for something, use your words.” you scold gently.

“act like an animal, and i shall treat you like one.” you warn him, tightening your hold on his cock as if you meant to break it.

“want you…” he whined against the skin of your chest before his lips climbed up to your neck to place pleading kisses along your skin. his hands were rough and clumsy, with not the slightest hint of grace that befitted a prince at all. yet the pathetic sight amused you to no end, and you felt gracious enough to let your elder brother do as he wished. 

his hands slipped under your tunic, massaging the soft skin underneath. your one hand resumed to move to pleasure his cock, and your other came up to his head, bringing him closer to your exposed neck as you allowed your brother to remove your tunic completely, exposing you to his eyes. he kissed along your jawline, trying to reign in his voice, while you held little to no shame in yours. 

his hips rolled his cock deeper into your grip, thrusting into your hands like it was the real thing; and your body moved along with him as if on instinct. a sharp gasp escapes your lips when he reaches your hardened nipples, kissing and biting the hardened nub, sucking on it as if trying to coerce milk out of them like a babe would. 

“aegon, wait—” you giggled, the sensation slightly ticklish. 

aegon cussed, tossing his body over yours, completely drunk on the taste of your skin on his tongue. 

“a-ahh… f-fuck, aegon… keep going..” you managed to breathe out, locking your ankles behind his waist to invite him closer to you.

aegon's palms trapped your head between them as he mindlessly humps his hips against you, grinding his pathetically weeping cock against your own. you cradle his head in your hands, urging him closer to your face, lips inching closer and closer with every breath.

yet he never brought his lips to yours. his hand guides his cock into your hole, and that was it.

you sighed, seeing your brother in your bed, fast asleep and snoring like an old fool. he came once and fell asleep on top of you without bothering to let you finish. you shook your head, growling curses under your breath as you threw on a loose, oversized tunic over your naked body. your cock was still painfully hard between your thighs, and part of you wished to touch it, but you knew it could never satisfy your hunger.

“selfish, drunken… cunt fucker.” you made haste for the false wall by the right of your bed, pushing it with little resistance.

grabbing a candle, you closed the entrance behind you and wandered deeper down the hidden hallway. it led all throughout the hightower, and you always used it to escape the scoldings of the maesters. now, you were using it to find some form of escape for the painfully hard issue between your legs.

but just as you were about to continue down the path, you saw a very thin sliver of light just beyond you that should not be there. most likely, it was from some other room in the hightower, but you did not know where it emanated from. carefully, you placed the candle down and hoped to slip past, until you heard soft, muffled moans of a single person. a man.

you dared to take a peek. 

“fuck… not enough… not enough…” 

you saw your uncle gwayne, sitting on a plush lounge chair, hand on his cock with his head thrown back in painful desperation. your eyes grew wide at the sight, and you were unable to tear your eyes away. your own cock twitched in yearning, and you felt like you could barely hold in your desire to devour your uncle right then and there, to taint his pure honor with your so-called tainted soul.

so you gave in to your desires. the hinges creaked, and your uncle snapped out of his mind-numbing state, eyes shooting towards your direction.

“my prince!” he exclaimed, hastily pulling up his breeches. “what… what are you doing here?”

he tried to brush his hair back and fix up his appearance, but it did not change the fact that you had already witnessed his dirty actions.

“searching, uncle.” you answer mindlessly. “searching for you.”

“did you need something?” he quickly asks, straightening his back and feigning properness as an attempt to cover up the dirty act he had just been doing. 

you approached him slowly, not caring at all to close the false door behind you. you lightly tugged at the strings of your tunic, exposing your smooth chest for his eyes, yet he tried to look elsewhere, focusing his attention on anything else but you.  but his eyes gravitated back to you every single time; your lithe legs, your pale chest, your lust-filled expression, until his eyes landed on your weeping cock, hidden lightly from his sight by the loose fabric of your tunic that looked strangely familiar.

gwayne gulped and tried to escape, but you quickly pinned him down the plush cushion with one hand as you straddled his hips. his hands gripped the armrests so tightly, he was sure to have left scratches on the fabric. he was trying very hard now, to not hold you, to not indulge you. but you were making it very hard on him.

your hand gripped your cock, holding it in place as your face leaned closer to your uncle. your lips were so dangerously close, he could strongly smell the faint hint of wine on your breath. finally, he seemed to gain some control over his senses. he held your shoulders, and pulled you away from him. the wine… you had yet to have your fill that day, and he was well aware of your habit of day-drinking. you never had a cup before midnight, out of respect for your body and rest. 

“was prince aegon with you just now, my prince?” he asks.

you sighed, your shoulders sagging. “yes.” you admitted lowly.

he shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “i am well aware of your family's… queer practices… but, prince aegon is—”

you place both hands on each side of his face, silencing him. “i know what he is.”

you neared your face to his again, a soft whimper leaving your throat as you kissed his jaw, daring him to meet your lust with his. but ser gwayne was sober and rational, and he knew wrong from right in accordance with his faith’s practices and teachings. he was a man of virtue above all else, so he tried to refuse you,  his nephew.

yet you were making it harder and harder for him to resist with each kiss on his skin. your hands slip past the opening of his tunic, tugging them wider for your eyes to feast upon. gwayne could do very little to defy your intense hunger and his own desires.

“my prince,” gwayne struggles to say.

“uncle,” you reply immediately, teeth grazing his skin to mark him as yours.

gwayne finally grabs hold of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. a moment passes you both, and you continue to hold his gaze with your own despite the desperation between your legs. his grip on you is tight, forcing you to still completely. his mouth is so close to yours, his breath hot against your lips, yet you were held back by him.

it seemed he was still locked in an internal battle with himself.

you pulled away first, your eyes remaining on him. as you stood, you removed the last remaining thing that shielded you from his eyes, pulling the cotton tunic over your head. you waltzed back, landing on his bed as if to sway your uncle to you. it was as if your uncle had been hypnotized by you; jaw slack and eyes drawn to your elegant figure. 

you laid on his soft bed, back against the plush pillows, and you spread your legs, exposing your hardened cock and hole, leaking with remnants of your brother's release. you bit your lip, your fingers wrapping around your cock, while your free hand reached your entrance. your fingers prodded around the ring, fishing out the sticky cum that leaked forth.

gwayne's eyes burned into your skin, lust visible in his eyes the more you toyed with your most intimate parts. finally, he made his way to you, crawling over you as if he wished to wrap you in all of him.

“temptress,” he exhaled, his cock brushing against yours. “what have you done to me…”

his hand wrapped around yours, gripping your fingers around your cock as he guided you to move slowly. his lips were dangerously close to yours, threatening to close the gap between you, but pulling away every time you tried to come near. you whined, trying to push him away this time, though it was a weak, half-hearted attempt.

“enough games, uncle,” your eyes met his. “if you should fuck me, then do it properly.” 

you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, bringing him back down to your level. your lips met his ear, “or are you perhaps… unversed in this… practice?”

gwayne's free hand slithered up your throat, massaging the soft skin underneath. he tilted your chin upwards, your body arching off beautifully from the bed as his fingers gripped your throat. a choked gasp escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut from the iron grip he had on you.

but he quickly realized his actions a moment later, and he released you.

“my prince, i apologize—i… i didn't know what i was…” gwayne trailed off, his gaze turning downwards to your cock, where it had released a load of sticky white. his throat bobbed at the sight. 

“uncle…” you gasped, breathless, vulnerable, as if you were innocent.

gwayne was flabbergasted and could not move at all. he realized you must've cum from how he gripped your throat so tight, but thought it unusual and strange. he hardly noticed how you moved beneath him, flipping him over in a single instant. he was the one underneath this time, gazing up at the sight of you, out of breath and… perfect.

“push me away if you hate this, uncle,” you told him, grinding your hardened cock against his growing erection. “you and i know you have the strength for it.”

“my patience has been exhausted, extremely.” 

you straddled his waist, your hands hastily tearing away at his clothes ‘till he was left with nothing, and he did nothing to refuse you. you licked your lips, smiling softly as your hands ran all over his chest, fingers mapping out the old scars and birth marks that surely would tell stories of their own someday. but right now, you were far more occupied with his cock, long and heavy and oh-so hot, it practically throbbed—screamed—to be touched.

your thoughts had been overtaken by a carnal desire to devour, you turned to face his cock, yours just hovering near his face as it wept, begging for release. you tasted his first, licking up a strip with your tongue against the sides, marveling at the musky taste of your uncle. you kissed along the length, before your lips found the tip, your tongue practically torturing the slit, coaxing a release out of him.

gwayne moaned sharply, hands on your hips. he eyed your puckered hole, wondering what it would feel like. his arms slipped between your thighs, anchoring him to you as he pulled your figure closer to his face. his tongue kissed your entrance, before his tongue shot deep inside. 

a pathetic whine escapes you, your focus on his cock lost. 

“my prince,” his voice reaches your ears, despite being muffled by his lips against you.

“uncle,” your moan comes as if to reply to him. 

he holds you against his face, as if forcing you to sit on him as he ate away at your insides like a man starved. your eyes fall back on his cock, throbbing with need. your hands grasp the base as your mouth prepares to devour him whole. what length you couldn't stuff down your throat, you made up for with your hands. his cock was lengthy and veiny in all the most pleasurable places, scratching the insides of your mouth in the most delicious ways possible. yet the moment it hit the back of your throat, you felt the need to gag, and so you couldn't fully accommodate him any further.

any sounds that tried to leave your lips came out only in choked gasps and gags, rumbling around his cock that forced him into a deeper pleasure.

ser gwayne felt his mind go numb. the taste of you on his tongue was heavenly, like nothing he'd ever had before. and the sensation of you struggling and trying your hardest to take in his entire length sent him spiraling upwards, urging him to keep going, to keep eating away at you until he had your taste permanently on him forever.

your head moved, slowly, up and down his cock, up and down again, breathing slowly when your head raised, and choking when you lowered it. the pain was fleeting, the taste of him would forever remain in your memories. your hands kept busy with his heavy balls, practically ready to burst at any moment. the more you wished to taste him, the faster you went, and the closer he got to his release.

you could tell he was getting close, with the way he pulled away from you for a moment, moaning softly as he clung to your body. the sounds coming from him drove you to keep going, until finally, you lowered your head deep until your nose met the patch of auburn at the base of his cock and he released down your throat in loads.

“gghhckk—!” you choked, trying to swallow him as much as you could, but to no avail. you had released him from your mouth, taking in a desperate breath. 

“fuck…! my prince!” gwayne reached for you.

he sat up, arms wrapping around your torso to bring you to him, but your body felt like it weighed pounds heavier than normal and you went slack against his chest. your head was spinning, a mixture of drool and cum dripping from the corners of your mouth. gwayne wished to wipe it away using his hands, yet, as his hands neared your lips, your tongue lapped up his thin fingers, as if encouraging them to enter your mouth.

gwayne gasped as you took his digits into your mouth, and he was surprised at how little he resisted your actions. your half-lidded eyes met him in a desperate stare, your hips rolling your ass against his cock. he felt his cock stand erect once more.

“uncle… need—m..moreee…” you panted, tongue hanging from your mouth, begging for gwayne to come to you.

gwayne felt all rationality leave his body. he could no longer resist you; his body yearned for you so much it hurt his cock terribly so. his hand gripped your jaw, and you moaned sharply at the touch. his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, again, painfully so that his desperation came in short, hot breaths against your lips. his other hand found his cock. it was lathered up in your saliva and remnants of his own release, all he did was smear it evenly around his length before guiding his tip into your entrance.

finally, he broke through. you managed to part from his lips for a moment, and a whimper escaped your throat as you tossed your head back, your head falling over his shoulder. he hadn't thought of silencing you, your voice in all actuality, created a lovely melody in his ears that only encouraged him to drive his cock deeper into you, pushing past your gummy walls as every vein in his cock planted kisses all over your insides.

“uncle… uncle…! haaahhh—!” 

“gwayne, my prince.” he corrects you, sinking lower in his pillows with you.

you bit your lip, your bodies now laid against each other as he held your hips, moving you up and down his cock like a toy to be used only by him. right now, it was all you wanted. your desires, answered by his lust. your tainted blood, staining his honor and purity. 

your body moved along with his, though it was weak as your uncle had full control over your body. 

“gwayne…” you whispered, a breath against his lips that made him grunt softly.

“gwayne….” a whine from the back of your throat, met an unholy groan from him.

“more… use me, more… h-haahh…” 

he finally closed that god-forsaken gap between your lips. a kiss that you had been chasing all this time, finally granted to you by your uncle. his one hand climbed your throat again, clamping down hard and taking away the air from your lungs. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you couldn't do anything but lay there, at his complete mercy. 

and gwayne relished in the feeling of control; of having you, his familial headache since your arrival, finally docile and obedient. he could feel the way you clamped down his cock, desperate to keep him inside you as he drew closer to his second release of the night. he grunted, teeth grazing your skin as if searching where to place his mark.

he tightened his hold on your neck, and he felt you tighten around him like a vice. he moaned sharply before biting into your neck as he buried his cock deep inside you until he finally came undone. his release surged powerfully inside you, bursting past the ring of your ass as your cock squirted weakly in turn.

finally, he released his hold on your neck, and you sucked in a desperate breath. gwayne panted heavily, lips kissing the spot he marked in your shoulder, which would forever remain unseen by anyone other than you and him.

you took slow and deep breaths, your body and lust finally satisfied. your head turned slightly towards your uncle, and you met him in a gentle, stained kiss. 

during your off days, you would frequent the street of silk with some of your brothers-in-arms, merrily making your way to one of the many pleasure houses in the district. the first time you experienced what it meant to be held—to be embraced, you could never go back. it was a guilty pleasure of yours that only very few in the city watch knew of. only a few were open-minded to the prospect of one of their brothers being a sword swallower; most would probably have you stuffed with a real sword instead.

so on the night before you were set to depart king's landing to follow your lord commander into a death march, you threw yourself into the embrace of your favorite boy and swore you would die with no regrets.

as skilled as you were with a sword, you still knew not, why your lord commanded, a vicious knight himself, would select you to accompany him on the journey. surely he was already made aware of what you are, rumors spread easily in the city after all. but right at this moment, you cared very little for why he chose you, and cared only to follow the handsome dornishman who could cut you open with his longsword if he wished. 

or perhaps, your concern at the moment, was the handsome, fire-haired man by his side. ser gwayne hightower, was his name, brother to the dowager queen, and quite the good-looking fellow. he was noble and honorable as well, a man of faith. the more untouchable they were, the more you desired them, it seems. the forbidden fruit, told in the stories of old.

so you chose to watch him from afar, content with being close enough to greet him every morning during his walks around the green encampment. your admiration was all there was to it.

“good morrow, ser.” he greets you one afternoon.

“ser gwayne, good morrow to you as well.” you smile brightly, turning away from your sword for a moment.

you thought he would walk away after that, as he always did, but he lingered in your space, watching you sharpen your sword. slowly, you turned your head towards him.

“is there something i might assist you with, ser?” you curiously asked.

“nothing yet,” ser gwayne answers before he quickly shuffled away, as if slightly flustered by the interaction.

you hadn't known yet then, what that man had in store for you.

the night was deep and quiet, most of the soldiers had gone to rest, while a select few watched the night, making their rounds to ensure the safety of their comrades. you were not one for the night's guard, but you liked to stay up later than most. you sat by the fire, cleaning your sword absent-mindedly, as you had repeatedly done the past few days despite the lack of blood or grime upon it. 

thoughts about the war occupied your thoughts, keeping you from sleep. all you could do was watch the flickering flame as your hands repeated the action of rubbing a white cloth on the steel of your blade. but to your surprise, someone had joined you on your lonely firepit. you turned, then nearly jumped from your seat upon seeing your superior, ser gwayne himself.

“ser gwayne, oh bless my soul, i thought…” you looked at his face, his handsome, smirking face, and suddenly you forgot your words. “nevermind.”

“‘tis a quiet night, ser, perfect for rest.” he started. “why are you not abed?”

“mind's all crowded, ser,” you answered with a chuckle. “it does not let me rest easily.”

ser gwayne hummed in response, his eyes observing the flickering flames. the orange glow of the fire hit all the perfect angles of his face, accentuating all his already naturally striking features. you hadn't realized you were staring until he turned towards you.

“would you like to join me on a walk, ser?” he asks. “the woods are scarcely patrolled by our men.”

“very well, ser,” you reply, standing to sheathe your sword.

he walked on ahead, pace slow until you caught up to him. the flickering flames of the encampment started to drift away the farther you walked from the camp. you walked by the highborn knight's right, keeping vigilant of the shadows at the corner of your eyes. surely ser gwayne was the same? even though he seemed like he was on a leisurely walk instead of a midnight patrol. you couldn't help but admire him anyways. an act you found yourself committed to these past few days. 

has he noticed? you think, heart beginning to thrum wildly against your ribs.

“when i was in king's landing,” he began speaking, stopping once he arrived at a forest clearing, where the moon shone brightly upon a natural rock formation. “i'd heard whispers of a knight in the city watch with… peculiar tastes.”

you felt all the shame in your body rush to your head. words of disdain spoken to you by your mother, becoming recurring thoughts. yet, ser gwayne approached you slowly.

“but a valiant man, they say he was. treated people kindly, with respect that befitted any human being.” ser gwayne stopped in front of you, your bodies so close to one another, you could feel his warmth against the chilly night air, yet so far he was, at the same time.

“sounds to me, ser, that he was a fine knight.” you try to say, eyes held against gwayne's piercing, sapphire gaze. 

“a fine knight indeed,” he agreed. 

the man before you was an honorable man, the most honorable man you've ever met, and you've met plenty of men before in your life. he was taller than you up close, with a lean figure, and broad shoulders. a pretty face, with even prettier eyes. his scent was intoxicating as you inhaled the air around him. he was so close to you now.

“now, my little knight,” he whispers, face nearing yours. “would you care to show me… how much of a valiant knight you are?”

one moment, your body was yearning for his warmth, the next, his warm hand held your cheeks in place. kind, and gentle were his hands, and you couldn't help but melt into him. he neared his face to yours, enough that your noses brushed, your eyes wide and unsure; but then he closed his eyes, his hold on your face was steady and sure, but he had yet to draw his lips to yours, perhaps waiting for you to come to him.

and come to him, you did. you filled the gap between you, your chests close enough that you could feel him like a second heartbeat. your lips molded together in a slow kiss, a delicate dance. all of a sudden, your entire body was aflame with his body close to yours.

he had you against a tree in a mere moment, lips never straying from yours as he chased after your taste. his hands held you steady, and you had half a mind to cling to him, to wrap your arms around him and hold him close ‘till you fused together. but your body betrayed your thoughts; your hands reached for his breeches, undoing his pants in mere moments and letting it fall to the forest floor. his cock hung heavy between his legs, and he finally parted from you when your lungs called for air.

you grasped his half-hard cock with both hands, marveling at the sheer length of it alone. you chuckled softly, “what a pretty little thing, this is.” you compliment against his lips as you both fall into a heated kiss once more. 

your hands were rough, but your touch was gentle yet firm. his cock was lengthy and veiny in all the right places, you required two hands just to completely get a hold of it. as you stroked him in your hands, he groaned against you, throwing his head back to the sky as he resisted the urge to thrust against your hold. you smirked, bearing witness to the way this man unraveled before you. sweat made his skin glow against the moonlight, his hair falling past his ears, exposing his neck. his throat rumbled with every gasp and moan, and you could not bring yourself to resist your desires.

you bit onto the soft flesh of his throat, and a surprised sound escaped him. you chuckled lowly and licked the spot your teeth had pierced. his hands held your hips, keeping you close to him as you continued to stroke his full length at a terribly slow pace, teasing him to no end. 

“fuck, can't your hands move any faster?” he cussed softly.

“i don't believe i want to.” you hummed in amusement. 

he gave you a stern look through his lashes, his head hung low as he tried, so hard, to hold in his desperation. ‘what a pretty face,’ you thought, planting a kiss on his cheek.

your hands stopped entirely, and gwayne released a soft whine. you dropped to your knees, eyes on him the whole time. his dick hung precariously along the length of your face as you tasted him, your tongue working him all over. finally, you held his cock and kissed the tip of his length. the softness of your lips could never hold a candle to your mouth. when you took his cock into his mouth in earnest, gwayne released the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard. 

you continued to take him down your hot throat, until your nose hit the patch of auburn connecting his cock to his hips. rolling your eyes to the back of your head, all thoughts escaped you but the taste of gwayne on your tongue. you moaned softly, your dick straining against your own breeches, but you couldn't care less.

gwayne's cock was too good to set aside for your own pleasure. 

the knight gazed down upon you, tears trickling the corners of your eyes while your mouth struggled to accommodate gwayne for long. his fingers brushed your hair out of your face. he licked his lips; a fire had been lit deep inside his belly. he held your head in place, his fingers locking into the threads of your hair as he began to move his hips. slow, it was, at first. he didn't quite know what to make of the choked sounds from your throat, but you made no move to pull away. your hands had grasped his thighs and clung to them in desperation, and gwayne knew you wanted this as much as he did. 

“i see now… why they called you a sword-swallower,” gwayne chuckled. “look at you, choking on my cock so delightfully.”

his cock was so painfully close to cumming the faster he moved his hips, and all you could do was stay there, at the mercy of his grip. and if it were up to you, there was no other place you would rather be. 

finally, he pulled your face close to his hips, keeping you in place as his movements stilled. his cock throbbed painfully against the cavern of your mouth, and he spurted his release down your throat in loads. you tried your hardest to swallow as best as you could as you gazed up at him, mouth still stuffed with cock, you nearly choked. 

gwayne smirked as he looked down upon you; finally, he released his hold on you and withdrew. you gasped for air, leaning against him as you breathed heavily. 

“well done, ser.” said the knight, giving your cheek a gentle pat.

since then, your desire for the fire haired man only grew by the day. you gazed at him from afar during the noon, while at night, you retreated to the woods to deal with your own. it was a shameful, sinful, desire. but in your heart and mind, you had wanted him so badly, it pained you terribly. 

during mandatory sparring sessions, your sword could finally be put to use. it was a regular steel blade, unlike the valyrian-steel ones wielded by men like daemon targaryen, or your king, aegon the elder, its steel was of no significance. but in your hands, it was among the deadliest weapons in the realm, and you wielded it against ser gwayne. 

after clashing your blades in a fierce dance, you had finally brought the man to his knees, your sword tip pointed to his throat as he smirked in your direction. “that's a good lad,” he told you then.

“that's a good boy,” he told you now, as you straddled his hips, looking down upon him as you did earlier that day. “keep going,”

out in the wilds, far from camp, you met underneath the moonlight again. ser gwayne's back was laid upon a makeshift bedding made of your clothes and his, it was a far cry from the comfort of a luxurious feathered bed in one of the whore houses at the street of silk back in king's landing. 

fitting his entire length inside you was a struggle you never thought you'd encounter. the more you sunk your hips down his length, the more your legs trembled, struggling to keep you from falling. ser gwayne's hands were kept at the meat of your firm hips, guiding you lower.

“is it painful, little knight?” ser gwayne teased.

“it is,” you whimpered softly, and you heard him release a low chuckle. 

“say you want my help, then.” he suggests.

you tumbled forward, your nose against the crook of his neck as you panted heavily. your words were stuck in your throat, all that came out were pathetic cries and whimpers, different from the pleasured sounds you'd normally make. 

“then help me, ser,” you begged against his ear, kissing along his neck. “help me,”

he kissed the temple of your forehead and smiled kindly at you as he held you tight in his arms. “that's good,” he praises softly. “good work.”

he took your lips in his and turned you over ‘till you were on your back. his cock moved slightly inside you, and you held back a moan. gwayne kisses you again, heated tongue on yours as he sought to invade your body with all of his. his cock pushed deeper past the ring of your ass, and you held your breath, muscles taut in unease. 

“relax—dear gods, you're so tight.” he bit his bottom lip as he finally sheathed the rest of himself in you.

he pulled back, holding your thighs apart to fully view the image of you unraveling before him.  for a moment, you tighten around him, and a soft moan escapes his lips. your weeping cock twitched, as if to call his attention, yet he ignored it in favor of the iron-grip of your ass on his cock.

“beautiful,” he praises. 

his hands fully gripped your hips as he withdrew his own, watching how you tried, so hard, to pull him back in the embrace of your warm, wet walls. he moved, and you swore to the heavens above it was the most painful thing you'd experienced, close to the time when you were stabbed by a sword sometime during your youth. 

but as he picked up the pace, the pain subsided, melting away into pure ecstacy. your chin tilted to the skies, the faster he moved. 

“f-fuck… little knight—” he sucked in a breath through his teeth as he rolled his hips, pressing his cock deeper in you.

“ser… ser, i beg of you…” your hands scrambled to grasp his body, but he was a bit far out of your reach. 

every breath, every word on your tongue, could not make it past your lips as he pistons his hips deeper, desperately. the tip of his cock made contact with that one, pleasurable spot inside you that can never seem to be reached by anyone else. and now, here he was, effortlessly kissing the deepest parts of you with his cock.

you turned to the heavens and your tears had begun to fall freely. you were far from a pious man, religion at the very back of your mind, but right at this very moment, the tighter the strings inside you went, the more you started to believe in the goodness of a being beyond the skies. you truly counted yourself blessed. if the god's beyond your mortal imaginations were not real, perhaps the one before you could be.

yet all that filled ser gwayne's head was pleasure; deplorable, vile ecstasy that numbed his mind like milk of the poppy. finally, he buried himself deep inside you and came undone. your poor, untouched cock, made a poor attempt to cum, only leaking pearly drops of your impending release.

gwayne finally bent his head to yours, to plant a sweet kiss on your lips that you immediately swallowed with earnest. his hand seized your cock and began to stroke quickly, hurrying for you to reach your peak. you moaned sharply, and it would have echoed had gwayne not silenced you with another kiss.

finally, you came undone. the remnants of your pleasure staining the knight's lithe fingers. he offered you a knowing smile, and despite your own exhaustion, you were ready for him to do it all over again.

he takes a deep breath before leaning slightly toward the shovel.

"why are you here?" y/n asked in disbelief.

people mostly ignored him. he'd been with the prison group for a while now; they found him close to death at the side of the road one day and nursed him back to health. then, after asking him three questions, he was allowed to join the group. he was only trusted and respected by his peers because he helped them, but none of them ever really tried to get to know him. only glenn.

"can't i come out here?" glenn asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"you should head inside with the others." y/n tells him before he picks up the shovel once more. "looks like it'll rain soon."

"nah, i think i'll wait for you." glenn said.

"er... sure.. whatever makes you happy i guess."

~

by the time y/n had had enough of his digging, he went back inside for dinner, only to realize that everyone else had already eaten without him and retired to their respective rooms. glenn accompanied him to the end though, just like he said he would.

now, the two were sharing a quiet meal together outside. glenn was supposed to lock up anyways, and y/n had the first watch. y/n munched on some leftover vegetables, the group probably left it behind for them.

"so... you think you're gonna die here?" glenn suddenly said. "interesting..."

"how is it interesting?" y/n asked, raising a brow.

"like... do you think this place could be a permanent home? for us?" glenn asks, turning to look at y/n.

"yeah. i mean... it's not any better than my dorm back in college, this place was a prison, but so was that god-awful place." y/n sneered, thinking back to the days he spent living in a tiny college dorm before the dead started rising.

"well," y/n crossed his arms over his head and laid down on the concrete, using his arms as a cushion. "the only difference, is that i get an entire room to myself, and i don't gotta pay rent!"

"a permanent home..." glenn sighed wistfully.

"what are you daydreamin' about?" y/n asks.

"home." glenn answered simply.

y/n was silent, as if he didn't know what to answer. he then released a pleasant sigh before he inhaled the crisp, night air.

"lay down, would you?" y/n suggests, though his tone is teasing.

glenn shook his head and laughed before he situated himself to y/n's side, lying down on his back. the two men stared up at the night sky, the clouds giving them a brief view of the twinkling stars. thunder seemed to rumble in the distance, but the two didn't seem to care too much.

"how do you feel?" glenn asks, keeping his eyes. up.

"full." y/n laughed, patting his stomach. "just wish there was some rice though."

"you're a rice guy? didn't expect that." glenn chuckled.

"eh, one of my former roommates introduced me, it tasted pretty- shit!" y/n cussed loudly when droplets of rain suddenly began falling from the sky.

gray clouds gathered above their heads as they quickly scrambled to their feet before rushing inside. the rain poured heavily in mere moments, but thankfully, they had already managed to return indoors. now, both men were slightly damp as they leaned on the metal doorframe leading into the cells.

glenn laughed as he shook his head, droplets of rain falling from his hair. y/n groaned as he was splashed with water.

"glenn!" y/n laughed.

they were awfully close to each other, nearly huddled together for warmth. their shoulders were touching for mere moments when y/n suddenly takes off his wet t-shirt.

"w-what are you doing?" glenn asked, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

"takin' my shirt off." y/n answered simply. "y'know, 'cause it's wet and i don't want to get sick?"

"right, right, right..." glenn muttered.

"you're not gonna take it off?" y/n raised a brow.

"huh- no- i-i-i mean-" glenn yelped when y/n grabbed him by the hips all of a sudden, a playful smirk on his lips.

"medicine's hard to come by nowadays, dont'cha know?" y/n teased. "just take it off! we're both dudes!"

glenn yelped as y/n helped him off his shirt. glenn sighed as he brushed his hair back with a hand, then he noticed y/n had gone quiet all of a sudden. he looks at his friend, raising a brow at his strange behavior.

"something wrong?" glenn asked. "are you feelin' all right?"

"no, no, i'm fine..." y/n assured. "just didn't think you'd be hidin' all that underneath..."

y/n was referring to the lightly toned muscles of glenn's body. his wet skin glistened gently against the soft glow of the orange lanterns. glenn's hair was dripping wet as he kept brushing it back, away from his eyes. they were both real quiet, y/n's eyes were unable to leave the sight of glenn's body, while glenn was silently contemplating things in his head while he stared at y/n's face.

y/n's curiously handsome face. he never thought he'd ever like guys, sure, there were times he thought that some guys were hotter than most, but he always brushed them off as admiration. y/n on the other hand, always knew he liked guys. the others at the prison probably felt it, so they stayed away. but glenn was different. he wasn't stocky and a bully, nor was he lanky and nerdy. he was the perfect combination of both.

their bodies, wet from the rain, radiated so much warmth that they instinctively stepped closer to one another. y/n's lips were only an inch apart from glenn's, he could feel his heat. without a second thought, y/n's hands cupped glenn's face and pulled him close as glenn wrapped his arms around y/n's waist, closing the distance between them. their bodies were pressed against one another, skin to skin. they could feel each other's hearts, beating as one as their lips molded together.

when they pulled away, they were breathless, the sound of rain falling into deaf ears in the background as they held each other close in a warm embrace.

"this place ain't a bad place to die." y/n muttered softly and glenn chuckled before planting a kiss on y/n's cheek.