#hotdormund

“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.