#catnis

not exact, bc Catelyn is sitting, not lying down, but the vibes of Stannis watching her

hand in panties

Stannis' hands on Catelyn

Catelyn is wearing a robe and lingerie set like these, with simple lace garters added, like the third picture, because Stannis is a thighs man.

Bottle of wine in hand, I walked confidently into the study where my husband was brooding, my robe just off my shoulders and dragging behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watching as I crossed in front of him to the bar, opened the bottle, poured myself a glass, and then sat by the fire, one leg over the other.

“Princess.”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“I don’t believe so.” I met his gaze with an affected naïveté.

“You aren’t going to ask if I would like glass?” 

“You wouldn’t like it,” I told him, looking away again.

“Mm.” In my periphery, Stannis cocked his head, considering me. “You seem quite sure of my preferences.”

“I know you, Stas.” I took a sip of wine, then turned my face back towards his. “I know you won’t like this wine, just as I know you will like what’s under my robe.”  I pulled the belt loose and shrugged off the silk, letting him see the pink lace set I had purchased the week before. His eyes roamed over me appreciatively, lingering on my breasts, then down to the hair partially visible beneath the lace, longer on the crease of my hip, and finally landing on the bands around my thighs. He inhaled deeply, then stood and walked over to me, stopping just far enough away that I would not kick him when he told me—

“Open your legs.” 

I uncrossed and spread them, setting down my glass and looking up at him adoringly. Stannis leaned over me, sliding his hands up my thighs agonizingly slowly, then placing one on the seatback beside my head, leaning closer. His other hand shifted inwards; the backs of his fingers brushed over the lace between my legs, and the corner of his mouth twitched faintly upwards.

“Oh, princess, you’ve already soaked these.” He bent his head and kissed me, his hand moving from my cunt to caress my breast, but far too soon he pulled back again and turned away, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before sitting across from me.

“Touch yourself, princess.” I blinked at him, hesitant, trying to figure out if there was some sort of catch. “Go on. Let me see how you touch that cunt when I’m gone.”

“I don’t, Sir.” Stannis tilted his head. “You said no one was allowed to touch it besides you. So I don’t.”

“You expect me to believe that my greedy brat doesn’t play by herself?” Stannis arched his brow.

“I don’t touch,” I corrected. There was a beat of silence as Stannis connected the dots. 

“I seem to recall, princess,” he said slowly, “saying you were also not to touch any toys without my permission.”

“That’s correct, Sir.”

“Would you like to elaborate on what loophole you are exploiting here?” Stannis asked after another moment. 

“You said I wasn’t allowed to touch the toys. But Steff’s dinosaur grabber can.” Stannis narrowed his eyes, and I grinned. “And since this is your cunt, I am not actually touching anything. Before you ask, no, I don’t touch any buttons. I poke them with a pen.”

“You are a determined little slut, aren’t you, princess?” Stannis sighed and tilted his head. “You do understand the spirit of the rules, yes? My intentions?”

“Mm, well I suppose your intention ultimately is to only have me orgasm when you’re directly involved, but…” I shrugged. “You never actually said that, Sir.”

“You are infuriating, did you know that?” Although his tone gave away nothing, I could see in his eyes that he was pleased to have a reason to be hard on me—to have an excuse to use me to vent his frustrations.

“You wouldn’t love me so much if I weren’t, Sir.”

“Hm.” He grunted and took a sip of whiskey. “Regardless. Fingers. Cunt.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t you dare orgasm without my permission.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Keeping my eyes on him, I slipped my hand under my panties, simply stroking slick skin for a minute before bringing my finger to my clit and slowly circling it. Stannis watched my hand, his face giving away nothing. I shifted my legs further apart and slid down in the chair, giving myself a better angle before I pushed two of my fingers in with a faint sigh. Stannis’ eyes snapped back up to my face, carefully observing for any sign that I was close. Another few minutes passed, him quietly sipping his whiskey, me curling my fingers in an attempt to replicate his. 

I was doing my best to remain unreadable on the outside, but clearly my husband knew me too well; I bit my lip to suppress a moan, and instantly he was on his feet, taking the two strides between us to place his hands on either side of my head and stare down intensely at me. I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.

“Were you about to cum without asking permission, princess?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.

“No, Sir,” I whispered.

“Are you sure?” He ran a hand down my side, then back up to cup my breast. I nodded, fighting the urge to grab the back of his neck and tug him down into a kiss. 

Stannis observed me a heartbeat longer, then gave my breast a soft squeeze and straightened. I remained still as he walked around the back of my chair, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He bent his head, his nose in my hair, and inhaled slowly, then pressed a tender kiss to my temple.

“Go on, princess,” he murmured in my ear. “Work those pretty fingers.”

“They’re not as good as yours,” I complained as I began moving them again, tilting my head around to pout up at him.

“Mm, I know, princess.” His hands slid down from my shoulders to my breasts. “But you wanted to act like a slutty little brat,” his fingers tightened, making me arch slightly, “and so now you must work for your pleasure.” He kissed just behind my ear, and my breath hitched again.

“Stas—”

“No.” His right palm came down sharply on my breast and I couldn’t help but clench around my fingers.

“Sorry. Sir?”

“Yes, princess?” His left hand now gently fondled, while his right cradled my jaw.

“If I get off on my own fingers, will you fuck me?”

“Mmm, you want my cock in your greedy cunt?” I nodded at him. “You better make it a good show then.”

I kept my gaze on his face as I pressed my fingers deeper, hooking them as best I could, tracing circles with my thumb. Stannis again watched my hand, his own still softly cupping my jaw and breast—a quiet dominance, designed to ground both of us. I wrapped my free fingers around the wrist near my mouth, blanketed in the heat of my panting, my brows knitting together in concentration, my core shaking with need.

“Please, Sir, may I cum?” I breathily beseeched, making my eyes as desperately doe-like as possible.

“Hm.” Stannis slid his hand from my jaw to the back of my neck and tugged at my hair, forcing my head back. “Go ahead, princess.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank—mpf!”

Stannis cut me off with a possessive kiss, swallowing my moan of release. He held me there for a long moment before dropping me against the chair and walking back around to stand in front of me. He kept his gaze on me as he slowly undid his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. I ran my tongue along my teeth in anticipation, eyes glued to the bulge of his hard cock. Stannis paused, considering me, then reached out and again held the back of my neck, tugging me off the chair and to my knees in front of him.

“Do you think you’ve earned my cock, princess? Hm? Have you made up for being such a brat?” I stared up at him, breathing heavily, eyes wide; Stannis bent down, stroking my hair with his other hand. “I don’t think you have. You aren’t desperate for me yet.”

He straightened and released me, turning away and sitting back in his own chair, legs spread. Without looking at me, he snapped his fingers and pointed between his thighs. I crawled over to him, positioning myself as he’d ordered. Stannis freed his cock with one hand, the other holding his whiskey again. He took a sip, then tilted his head at me.

“You’ll keep me warm in that pretty mouth of yours while you play with that greedy cunt, princess, and then maybe I’ll let you ride me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I swallowed him easily, years of practice making it second nature. I breathed slowly through my nose, slipping my hand between my legs once more. I didn’t bother to try to replicate the feeling of Stannis fingering me this time, rather simply rubbing over my panties. I let my thoughts drift, the weight of him in my throat just uncomfortable enough to settle my mind. Stannis saw the moment I fully relaxed, the moment I let submission envelope me completely. He softly set down his glass, then cupped my cheeks and gently moved my head back, pulling me off of him.

“You can stop touching yourself, princess,” he murmured. I moved my hand, letting my arm hang loosely at my side. Stannis leaned back and patted his thigh; I quickly stood and straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and nuzzling his neck.

“Alright, come here.” Stannis wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me up, his other hand guiding his cock into me, a soft whine escaping my lips as he lowered me. “That’s it, princess, there we go.” He gripped my thighs, giving me a loving, heated look. “Ride my cock, princess. And you still have to ask before you orgasm.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

As I began to move, Stannis slid one hand up my thigh and pressed his thumb to my clit. I gasped, then bit at his ear—even submissive, I was not all soft. Stannis grunted, his fingers digging into my other thigh; when I didn’t let go, he snapped the garter on said thigh. I begrudgingly released, kissing his neck instead, until the pressure inside me threatened to burst.

“Sir, may I please cum on your cock?” I breathed in his ear.

“Not yet.” Stannis pulled his thumb away from my clit, making me huff in annoyance. He grabbed my hair, again tugging my head back, and kissed me with an overwhelming possession. When he finally released me, I could barely think, I was so desperate. He grinned, his thumb rubbing at my clit again.

“Do you want to cum, princess?” he asked softly.

“Please, Sir, may I?”

“Go ahead.”

I shuddered, my hips jerking, my hands clutching the back of his shirt. Stannis gave me half a second to breathe, then pushed himself forward, moving us off of the chair and onto the floor. He grabbed my wrists, pinning my arms above my head, and snapped his hips. I moaned, loudly, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“There’s my good girl,” Stannis murmured in my ear. “My pretty princess, you take my cock so well.” He mouthed at my neck. “Going to cum again for me?”

“Please, Sir, yes!” I gasped, his cock relentlessly pummeling that sweet spot inside of me. “Please, your cock feels so good, Sir!”

“Mmm, cum for me, princess.” 

I arched up into him, moaning, and a moment later I satisfyingly felt him spill inside me, his groan vibrating against my throat. For a moment, we were still, catching our breath. Then Stannis sat back, letting go of my wrists and slipping from me. He quickly tucked himself away and did up his trousers and belt, then offered me his hands. I was pulled to my feet, then immediately into his lap as he returned to his chair. I curled up, my cheek against his chest, my heart calm and happy. Stannis slowly stroked my back, patiently waiting for me to feel ready for him to take me upstairs for a shower and bed.

“Stas?”

“Come in, Ren.” He crossed the room and waited quietly as I finished the paragraph I was writing before giving him my full attention. “What is it?”

“Catelyn is upset.”

“What is she upset about?”

Renly shrugged. “She didn’t say, but she was crying, and when she saw me she tried to hide it and told me to run along and find some mischief with Ed, then went into her chambers and closed the door.” He frowned. “She never skips our walk in the gardens. She didn’t even have Steff with her!”

I looked over to where Steffon was sitting, quietly playing with a pair of wooden deer, then glanced at the clock on the shelf behind him. It was well past when she usually came to collect him. With a sigh, I stood and crossed the room to Steffon, kneeling beside him.

“’Tis time for your walk around the gardens, fawn,” I told him, picking him up.

“Mama?” Steffon asked, looking around for her, then frowning at me when he found her absent. “We can’t go without Mama.”

“Mama isn’t feeling well right now, Steff. You shall have to take your walk with your uncles and Mariya.”

“But I don’t wannnaaaaa!” Steffon went dramatically limp in my arms. “Uncle Edmure is borrrrring! He wants to talk to girls all the time!” Beside me, Renly grimaced, his own distaste for girls clear.

“He is not boring, he is simply two and ten,” I told Steffon as we left the study. “When you are two and ten, you shall also be of no interest to lads of only three years, I would wager.”

“Stas?” I glanced down at Renly. “Will there be a lad of three here when Steff is two and ten?” I furrowed my brow, and he elaborated, “Will you and Cat have another son, nine years after Steff?”

“I cannot tell you if they shall be sons, but we shall have more children. Catelyn desires at least five. Why do you ask?”

“I like being a big brother,” Renly answered, giving me a genuine smile. “I’m glad I live with you and Cat, and not Robert and Cersei. I would not like having Cersei as my mother.”

I decided that that was not a battle I wished to fight, not when he looked so happy, and certainly not when I would likely need all my emotional strength to handle whatever was wrong with Catelyn. It was not small, I knew, for, as Renly said, she never missed her walk with him and Steffon. Every single afternoon since we had landed on this dreary island, she had taken them for a turn about the flowers and trees. The only time she had not gone was when she had been in labor with Cyrenna a moon ago.

Steffon left in the care of Ser Kermit and Catelyn’s favorite handmaid, Mariya, with Renly walking along quietly beside them and Edmure doing his best to flirt with Mariya (much to her amusement), I hurried back across the castle to Catelyn’s chambers. Ser Tristifer stood outside the door; he paused for a moment, seeming to calculate his lady’s orders against my own will, then opened the door for me with a dip of his head. I nodded shortly at him as I passed into the antechamber.

“Catelyn?”

“Just a moment, Stannis,” she called back after a beat. She appeared after another minute, Cyrenna in her arms. My chest tightened at the sight of my sweet wife holding my child—what could be more pleasant for a man to gaze upon? Then I noticed the redness around her eyes and the exhaustion in her posture, and my pride quickly gave way to concern.

“Cat, are you alright? Renly told me you were crying.”

“’Tis not anything you ought to worry over, husband,” she said quickly, shaking her head and moving to sit by the fire. “I am tired, as to be expected, with such a freshly whelped babe.” She smiled at me, but I could see the glisten of tears in her eyes.

“Catelyn.” I crossed the room and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her knee. “You are upset. Why?” She shook her head again, but I saw how she shifted Cyrenna closer. “Is something wrong with Cyrenna, my darling? Does she require Cressen’s attention?”

“No. Well, that is, I do not think this requires Cressen, but…she won’t latch on.” Something inside Catelyn broke, and suddenly she was sobbing. “Steff was always so easy to feed, and she, she…it is as if she hates me! I am doing exactly as I did with Steffon, but she is fussy about the entire process! And, and she stops part way through, and then I must struggle to get her back on, and she glares at me the entire time! Condemning me!”

“Oh.” This was not at all what I had expected. “Would you like me to hire a wet nurse for her?”

“So that I may watch her love some other woman? Oh yes, that would help immensely!” Catelyn scoffed, frowning at me. “I just do not understand! Steffon was never difficult!”

“Do you suppose it is your diet? Perhaps what you are eating is affecting the taste, making it less desirable.”

“You think the milk I produced on RATS was better?!” Catelyn was now glowering, her tears flowing steadily.

“I do not know, my darling,” I reached up to brush her tears away with my thumb, “I have not sampled your milk.”

“I am aware of that, Stannis!” She huffed, although she leaned into my palm as she did. “Do you know who could answer such a question for his wife? Ned.”

“That was not necessary information to impart,” I replied, the image of Catelyn’s cousin and her husband burning in my mind.

“I suppose you ought to write to Davos,” Catelyn continued, “and tell him to bring us some of the apparently magic onions that make my milk palatable! Since it seems my bitter heart truly has infected my breasts!”

“None of that is what I meant,” I replied as gently as I could.

“Your meaning matters not! Our daughter hates me and you do not have anything helpful to say!” Catelyn inhaled shakily, pulling away from my touch, then opened her mouth again, but before she could speak further, Cyrenna let out a soft cry. Immediately, Catelyn’s focus was entirely on her, her thumb softly rubbing her cheek, her body curling around her.

“Shh, shh, forgive me, my sweet.” Catelyn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I am so sorry, little fawn, to have failed you so intimately and completely.” She looked back at me, heartbroken. “Hire the wet nurse, Stas. I shall simply have to endure it.”

“Is she hungry now?” I asked, ignoring her statement and placing a hand softly over the one she had cradling our daughter’s head.

“Yes, I believe so, but I have been attempting to feed her for the past hour! I do not know what else to do, besides having you milk me like a, a bloody cow into a goblet and pouring it down her throat!” If she had been standing, I was certain one of her delicate feet would have been stomped in anger. As it was, she pressed her lips together tightly and looked away from me again.

“What if I hold her while you nurse?” I suggested, standing and holding out my arms for Cyrenna, who was now making a series of rather sad sounds at Catelyn, threatening to cry outright.

“How would that help any?” Catelyn blinked up at me, perplexed.

I shrugged. “I do not know, but you have not tried it yet, and it would be better than having another woman nurse her, would it not?”

“I suppose,” Catelyn said cautiously, allowing me to take Cyrenna. She regarded me with confusion, although she quieted down once more. Catelyn sighed and stood, gesturing for me to follow her into her bedchamber.

Catelyn sat near the head of the bed, leaving a space behind her, then adjusted her gown, freeing herself partially of it, a sight I could not help but admire. I love you, Cyrenna, but you are a fool to not adore your mother’s breasts; the single perfect pair in the entire world. I handed Cyrenna back to her, then slipped in behind her, my legs bracketing her body. Catelyn leaned back, and I wrapped my arms around her, letting her set Cyrenna in them. Her own moved to rest against my thighs, her hands gently holding them, thumbs brushing across my breeches. Cyrenna wiggled a moment, let out a small sigh, then began to nurse.

“You ass,” Catelyn groused. “I cannot believe she wants you to hold her!”

“I do not think she was the one wanting it,” I replied, noticing how Catelyn had melted against me. “I do rather believe you have been needing me more than you have let on, my darling. And that, along with all your other stubbornness, has made you quite anxious. She can tell when you are unhappy and it makes her unhappy as well.” I kissed her temple. “I am very sorry I did not notice your need, dearest, loveliest wife of mine.”

“Oh shut it,” Catelyn grumbled. “I hope you know you shall now be required for all her feedings.”

“I do not mind. Now rest, my darling.”

Nedaly have a bit of an advantage when it comes to the in-law relationship because Steffon is fostered at Winterfell. Steffon has always admired Ned (he’s similar to his own father, and they clearly respect each other) and he’s obviously heard many positive things about Aly from Catelyn, and the ways in which she’s similar to his mother make him even more respectful and attentive than he would be towards just any high lady. So off to a very good start.

Ned finds Steffon to be a very easy lad to teach and communicate with. He enjoys his company and the balance he provides between Robb and Jon. (Except when all three determine an injustice has occurred. Then no one is balanced. But Ned probably isn’t either, so.) (Looking at you, Petyr fucking Baelish.) Alyssandra also finds Steffon to be generally easy to manage, and she appreciates that he's kind towards her younger children. Ned doesn't understand that Baratheon fury, but he has no reason to think Steffon would ever direct it at Sansa or their children, and Alyssandra sometimes finds him a bit quiet, but overall, Nedaly like Steffon and think that he is a worthy husband for Sansa. And Steffon trusts both of them as people he can go to for advice when he can't go to his parents (for whatever reason).

Sansa and Catelyn get along well—Sansa is sweet and attentive and well-spoken and generally just a good highborn lady. Her 'rougher' bits Catelyn is very willing to put up with, as they aren't anything to be surprised by in a daughter of her beloved cousin (riding and falconry are the main things). Catelyn's one gripe is that Sansa is, flirtatious feels like the wrong word, because she's so young, maybe boy-crazy from the age of about 11. (When the Starks are in King's Landing for Stannis' Hand celebration, Sansa has an ever-rotating collection of young men at her side. Ned gives up remembering any of their names by day five and simply waves his hand vaguely and says 'your boy' when he has to refer to any of them.) (Obviously he still remembers Loras. But that's the only one.) But Catelyn's gripe is more with Alyssandra than Sansa, for allowing her to entrance all these young men then abandon them. Aly thinks this is very funny; she has no intention of ever intervening.

Stannis actually really likes Sansa. Their brands of autism go extremely well together. Stannis and Sansa frequently work on projects together, both within their duties as Prince and Lady and things related to their personal interests. (Sansa totally gets into the model ship shit Stannis and Steffon do. Catelyn cannot for the life of her comprehend why the three of them like sitting in complete silence, glaring at tiny pieces of wood.) And Stannis is honestly rather impressed by Sansa's mastery of socializing, and is very grateful for her willingness to assist Catelyn in keeping people away from him.

“Why is this so difficult?” Stannis grumbled, pulling out the pins he’d just placed. I smiled at his reflection, lifting my hands to set them over his own. He frowned at them for a second, then at me in the mirror.

“You are only beginning, Stas. Be gentle with yourself.” I squeezed his hands, then let go, placing my own back in my lap. “Before you try again, why don’t you bring Cyrenna to me, that way I won’t have to interrupt you with getting up when she’s ready to nurse.”

Stannis sighed, but moved away, crossing to the adjoining chamber, where Cyrenna was sleeping. He returned a moment later with her, and gently set her in my arms, then moved behind me again. A deep breath, then he carefully gathered a section of my hair and began to braid. I let my mind drift, the feeling of his fingers soothing, regardless of the outcome.

“Stay still,” Stannis muttered, reaching the back of my head.

“I am still,” I replied, eyes closed.

“Not you, the hair.”

“Mmm, pin it, Stas. Then it shall stay.”

“I am trying.” I felt the very gentle slide of a pin.

“Try harder. You must be a bit more firm, my love.”

“I shall hurt you.”

I opened my eyes, smiling at his reflection. He noticed my smile and paused, brow raising in a silent question.

“The man who has taken me like a savage beast in rut is suddenly concerned of the damage he might do with a hairpin?” I teased. Stannis clenched his jaw for a second, then he bent down.

“That is a pain which I know you enjoy, wife.” His words slid hotly over my ear, making my breath hitch. “You like when I am,” his hand wrapped around my throat, “...rough. When I force you to stop thinking.” He squeezed softly, just enough to remind me of his dominance.

“Cressen has not yet deemed me healed enough,” I murmured.

“Then you best behave, my darling.” Stannis kissed my cheek, then released my throat and straightened again. He pushed in a second pin, a bit firmer than the first, nodding to himself when my hair remained as he had arranged it. He stepped back to look at his work, then huffed, frowning once more.

“It need not be perfect, Stas,” I told him gently. “Functional shall serve.”

“For you and Cyrenna,” his eyes moved to her in the mirror, still asleep in my arms, “it must indeed be perfect. You are divine, and thus she is as well, being of you. I shall not allow such splendor to be marred by my lowly clumsiness. It shall be perfect. I shall make everything perfect for you.”

“Oh Stas,” I sighed, my brow knitted in tenderness.

“Do not sigh at me like that, ’tis the truth,” he grumbled, focussing on my hair once more. “You are the only true faith I have, Catelyn.”

“You pray with me often,” I replied.

“With you, aye. Rarely without you.” He was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I strive each day to be worthy of you in the barest sense of the word. Allow me this effort, please.”