ad nauseam

Blood covered the front of his white shirt. He held his nose in his hand as he stumbled into the bedroom. It slowly dripped through his fingers, staining the aged carpet, as he tried to take off the ruined article and use it as a compress.

You entered not long after, a handful of ice wrapped in a clean towel.

“Here,” you said, ignoring his outstretched arm and holding the ice to his face yourself. He avoided your gaze but didn’t pull away. A soft sigh left your lips, “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“I know,” his voice was gentle—-it always was with you. Even after he discovered you had thrown out his volunteer papers for the long walk. He didn’t yell; he just refused to speak. That was three days ago and the silence that echoed through your house felt alien.

You had no remorse about it. you would do it again in a heartbeat. The only thing you felt guilty about was lying when you told him you would turn them in for him.

You sat next to him on the bed. Months ago, you would have described it as too small; barely having enough room for you to sleep side by side without touching. Now, however, the forced proximity was more than welcome. Art may have been distant lately, but he could never think of sleeping without you; a fact you used to your advantage by tangling your limbs with his at night.

“I was gonna use the money to buy you a ring,” he admits. Your heart melts. He had proposed with his grandmother’s wedding band. A plain, thin, silver ring; you loved it more than anything you had ever owned. You had known he wanted to win the walk to better your lives, but it astounded you that his focus was on something so simple.

“I don’t need another ring,” you sigh. The melting ice left a trail of goosebumps down your arm. Using your other hand you stroke his hair back, “I need you here with me. Alive.”

“You deserve better." His hand reached up to cover yours. The bleeding had stopped by this point. “More than I could ever give you.”

“That’s bullshit,” you gently wipe the majority of the blood from his face. His eyes met yours for the first time in days. “I want you. Even in this shitty house. The roof that leaks, the windows that shake with the wind, the bugs that sneak in no matter how much we clean; none of that shit matters as long as it's ours. I love you."

“Watch your language.” He cracked a smile; he had always secretly been amused by your colorful vocabulary. "I love you too."

Batting your eyelashes, you leaned in close enough for your noses to brush. “Forgive me?”

“Sure, I forgive you. There’s always next year,” he joked.

“I’ll forge your withdrawal papers I swear-“ He cut you off with a kiss. The feeling of his lips never failed to entrance you. The metallic hint did little to dissuade you as you cupped his face in your hands.

It was impossible to miss. The first time you noticed it was while you were watching the live broadcast of the walk. You shouldn't have been---Pete had explicitly told you not to. A part of you considered it a form of self-flagellation; punishment for not doing more to stop him from signing up or faking his withdrawal documents. Whatever the reason, you watched it. You watched as the boys around him fell one by one; sleeping only when you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer. The signal on your television set cut out often and the audio and video quality were terrible, but none of that could stop you from recognizing the look on Pete's face: the same one he had when he kissed you goodbye before leaving for Maine. You saw it in the way his gaze lingered when Ray had asked if he had a girl at home. When he spoke of his wish you knew exactly which Walker he would want to win by his side. Perhaps if you were less worried about him dying you would have found it within yourself to be jealous or hurt, but all that mattered to you was that he came home alive.

You had brought it up to him months later, after he had come back to you---by some miracle---with Ray in tow. The three of you now lived in the house Pete bought with his winnings, like he had promised you he would before he left. A simple home, not too big but with enough room to start a family one day if you wanted. It was more than you had ever dreamed of.

Sitting perched on the edge of your shared bed, you braided your hair as Pete brushed his teeth. "Can we talk?”

"Yeah, we can talk,” Pete eyed you skeptically through the mirror. “What do you wanna talk about?”

"Your feelings," you paused briefly before elaborating, "for Ray.” His head whipped towards you, toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. In any other context, the sight would have made you laugh. "It's okay that you have them, I just think we should address it."

He searched and struggled for the right thing to say; eventually settling on spitting out the remaining toothpaste.

“Pete, there is no wrong answer,” you stood from the bed, moving to stand away from him. “I just need to know where we stand.”

He was quiet for a moment; pensive. “You stand right here next to me,” his calloused hands cupped your face, “and I’ll stand next to you. Nothing is going to change.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean, it’s okay if it does change.” His brow furrowed in concern and your heart ached knowing he felt forced to choose between the two people he loves. "I can share. Ray is amazing and you two went through a lot together. I don't know exactly how it will work out, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to try. Just promise not to keep me in the dark about it, alright?"

Pete stared at you for a moment, eyes scanning your face for any sign of sarcasm or dishonesty. When he found none he kissed you. Hungry and adoring all at once, he kissed you like doing so was the only thing that mattered.

"I promise." His strong arms wrapped around you, carrying you back to the bed. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Two more months had passed since that day. It seemed Pete was taking his time before pursuing anything with Ray. Meanwhile, your thoughts towards Ray had shifted to something new.

Maybe it was the fact that he acted like a second boyfriend. He made breakfast for the three of you, folded your laundry, and picked up your favorite snacks while he was at the store. Or maybe you were just ovulating. Either way you watched him as he and Pete passed a baseball between them in the front yard. It was warm enough for a light sheen of sweat that made his shirt stick to his chest. The sunlight emphasized the soft slope of his jaw, in the same way it emphasized the muscles in Pete's arms as he wound up to throw the ball. It was easy to see what Pete saw in him.

With a deep breath, You pulled yourself from the window, and made your way upstairs to change—The fabric of your clothes suddenly feeling heavy and oppressive in the late summer heat.

Ray noticed you first, if the way his eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly ajar was any indication. Pete’s gaze followed, a low whistle signaled his approval.

“Are you trying to kill us?” Your boyfriends eyes dragged up your legs slowly as you set two glasses down on the patio table.

“It’s hot out,” You stated plainly. “I made lemonade.”

“And suddenly, I’m panting like a dog.”

“Har har.” You rolled your eyes. His pick up lines hadn’t gotten any better from when you had first met. Yet they still worked like a charm.

“Thank you,” Ray said picking up his glass. You nodded in acknowledgement as he tried to look anywhere but at you. Pete watched him in amusement and grabbed his own. You indulged yourself in watching his Adam's apple move up and down. Your traitorous brain imagining licking the sweat from his skin. As soon as he lowered the glass, you took it from his grasp.

"Oh, so you bring it out to me just to drink it yourself?"

”What you don’t want to share?” Pete’s eyes locked with yours at the conspiratorial tone in your voice. You raised your eyebrows as you took a sip and handed the glass back to him.

“Yeah.” He took it slowly, his eyes flicking over to Ray who was staring at an empty birdbath like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah, we can share.”

You grinned and kissed his cheek before heading back inside.

The following day you wore a sundress. Something Ray took note of immediately as you both exited your rooms. His eyes caught for a moment at the short hem then again at the swell of your breasts above the neckline.

Pete had talked to him. It was obvious by the cherry red blush that threatened to take over his whole face—you wondered if he was the full-body blush type.

“Hey,” you feigned ignorance of your effect on him, “I was thinking of going for a swim later in the pool, will you join me?”

His eyes widened, “Huh? Oh. No, thank you.” A wicked thought came to you, and you crossed the hallway to stand in front of him.

“Are you okay? You're not getting sick are you?” You pressed your hand to his forehead. The other coming to rest gently on his bicep.

“N-no. I’m fine?” He seemed unsure, like he was waiting for Pete to pop out around the corner and reveal that it was all a prank. Ray knows he would never, but anxiety prevailed over reason.

“Are you sure?” you faked a look of concern. “You’re really, really hot, Ray.”

"I-" Ray nearly choked on his tongue. It pleased you to see him so flustered. He normally had no issue talking to you. Now it seemed he couldn't string together a coherent sentence. You wanted to see just how flustered you could make him.

“Careful, you might kill him,” Pete’s voice caught both of your attention. Ray jumped back like he had been burned. “What's a matter, Ray? You said you were interested.”

The poor guy looked like he was about to have a panic attack. With a sigh, you took pity on him; placing you hands on his shoulders once again. You leaned up, your faces millimeters apart.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, peering up at him through your lashes. He looked to Pete for final confirmation.

At Pete’s nod of approval, he closed the gap. His kiss was painfully gentle. Your fingers itched to pull him in closer. It took all of your self-restraint to let him lead. He grew bolder, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

After a few moments he pulled back only for you to chase him. Your hands came up to hold his neck while his hands went to rest on your hips. Warmth pooled in your core as his tongue brushed against yours. He gripped you harder, fingers digging into you. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you achingly aware of his touch. Panting, you broke the kiss only when it felt like your lungs would burst.

Wordlessly, you pulled him towards the master bedroom. Your eyes caught Pete's, the lust in his gaze as he followed you two almost causing you to stumble.

You pushed Ray backwards onto the bed, crawling atop him before capturing his lips again. Pete’s stare burned into you, spurring you on.

Your hands explored Ray’s chest—it felt exactly how you imagined it would. He moaned as they ventured lower and stroked his bulge. You rushed to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.

He was a bit bigger than Pete in both length and girth. Pete was the perfect size to fit in your mouth without choking. Ray was going to be a stretch, for every part of you.

Pete laid beside him, watching intently at how Ray reacted to your touch. You moved slow, lapping at every inch of his cock, mapping out the areas he seemed to be most sensitive. A whine escaped him as your tongue flicked over his bright red tip. Smirking, you focused there; planting sloppy kisses and lapping up beads of precum. His breath hitched when you finally wrapped your lips around him.

Your jaw stretched to accommodate his girth. You wanted to take it slow and savor the sounds he made, but every movement caused the soaked fabric of your panties to drag against your clit and you found yourself gagging as you took as much of him as your throat would allow. Pete's gentle hand on the back of your head helped you take more until your nose brushed against the hair at the base of Ray's cock.

“Holy shit,” Ray gasped when your warm mouth finally engulfed the whole length of him. You moaned around him as you kept him there for as long as your lungs could handle.

Looking up with tears in your eyes as you gasped for breath, you watched as they kissed. Pete's other hand firmly holding Ray's jaw in place. An idea struck you. You continued to bob your head as your hands moved to undo Pete’s belt; pulling out his hard cock out and stroking it.

“Greedy,” he was breathless as he pulled away from Ray.

You switched gears, pumping Ray’s cock as you kissed your way down Pete’s shaft. Wasting no time, you took him fully into your mouth. Pete threw his head back with a groan. Ray’s cock twitched in your hand as he watched Pete's face, mesmerized.

There was no need for you to guess what Pete wanted. You brought your hand that was not busy with Ray up to cup his balls. They were hot and heavy in your palm as you ran your fingers across the smooth skin. Another sinful moan left his lips as you worked him with your mouth, tongue brushing against them as you took him to the hilt.

Pulling back, you brought both their tips to your mouth, savoring the taste of their combined precum. You went back and forth between them, focusing on their weak spots, spurred on by the sounds of their muffled moans as their kissing resumed. It occurred to you how well Ray fit into your relationship with Pete. Not just sexually. You didn't need to adjust for him in the relationship because he was already where he belonged.

Your thoughts were cut short as Pete pulled away and moved to kneel behind you at the foot of the bed. Ray watched in pure fascination as Pete pulled the hem of your dress up and your panties down to your knees. His large hands massaged the flesh of your thighs and ass. He paused for a moment, taking a calculating look at Ray before pulling your dress down to expose your breasts.

"Have you ever been this wet before?" He teased causing your cheeks to burn. “Man you must really like his cock, huh?”

A response died on your tongue as he licked a long stripe up your pussy. Pete’s mouth was talented in more than just poetry.

You continued working Ray's cock, moaning around him as Pete’s tongue delved between your folds. His arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place as your shaking limbs struggled to hold you up.

Ray’s hips jerked up, gagging you slightly. "Fuck, that feels so good."

The thought of choking on Ray’s cock while Pete ate you out brought you closer to your peak. Pete’s thumb circling your clit while he tongue fucked you brought you right to the edge, Ray grasping at the sheets below him as your cries set his nerve endings on fire. You were so close.

Pete pulled away. You weren't sure if the whine you heard came from you or Ray as you caught your breath.

“Not yet,” he said. “It’s too early for this to end.”

The room was too hot for clothes. You stripped off your dress and the last of Rays clothes as Pete dropped his pants. The room was still as you all took in the sight of each other.

You closed your eyes for a moment to gather your wits. Relieved when you opened them and it was not a dream.

Pete signaled something to Ray that went unseen by you. Ray flipped you onto your back and leaned forward to kiss you. His kiss was gentle, like he is somehow still afraid it’s unwelcome. You pulled him closer, his hair soft between your fingers.

Pete rummaged around in the nightstand for a moment before rejoining you both on the bed.

He reached between your bodies, gathering your slick on his fingers and rubbing them over Ray's dick before rolling a condom over it, and another onto himself.

A gasp left you as Pete guided Rays tip to you entrance.

“That’s it,” Pete watched as you stretched to accommodate him. Ray's hips rocked gently, allowing you to adjust before pushing into you bit by bit. “Nice and slow. Our girl's eager for it but you gotta take your time with her."

Your hands slid down to Ray's chest to ground yourself as you angled your hips to take him to the hilt. The stretch causing a delightful burn. He kept a steady pace, one of his hands coming up to massage your breast. Your eyes squeezed shut from the feeling of the head of his cock kissing your cervix, tears gathering in the corners.

A strangled cry from Ray and a stutter of his thrusts drew your attention. Pete had also grabbed the lube from the nightstand. In the pleasure from Ray's cock, you hadn’t noticed Pete getting him ready too, until Pete pressed the head of his own cock into Ray’s virgin asshole.

The next few minutes where pure torture as Ray stayed buried deep inside of you while Pete worked to stretch him. Ray buried his face into you neck giving you a clear view of Pete as he bit his lip in pleasure and bottomed out.

“Please, please,” Ray whispered after a few moments. You nodded to Pete, who began slowly thrusting. Matching his pace you raised your hips again to meet Ray's.

Ray braced himself with his forearms on either side of your head. Both sensations at once were too much for him, he wouldn't last much longer. Neither would you. Swallowing each others moans with sloppy half-kisses, your peaks drew closer.

Pete gave a rough snap of his hips and sent Ray forward. He cried out as he came undone.

The combinations of his sounds and the way he looked while orgasming sent you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed, a mix of their names attempted to leave you mouth but came out only as a scream of pleasure.

You lay there panting for a moment as reality settles around you.

You followed Ray's gaze to Pete as the later stroked his cock. You tugged Ray to follow you as you knelt on the ground in front of Pete. He had removed the condom already, you replaced his hand with your own, giggling at the look on Ray's face.

“Do you want to taste it?” you asked, knowing the answer.

You guided Ray's head closer. “Do what felt good when I did it to you,” You said gently. He obeyed, nose scrunching at the residual taste of condom. It was cute how his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to replicate your motions. Gently, you brushed the hair sticking to his forehead back, “You’re doing so good, baby.”

As you noticed Pete growing closer, you moved to help Ray. Your tongue dragging across Pete's balls. The weight on your tongue was a familiar feeling, the brush of Ray's tongue meeting yours as you both lavished Pete’s dick was new but no less welcome.

"Yeah, just like that." Pete guided Ray slowly up and down his shaft. He was close now, you could see it in the pinch of his brow. You sucked his balls into your mouth and moaned around him.

“Fuck!” They contracted in your mouth as he came, pulling Rays head back just in time to not choke him with his load. You continued suckling gently until the spasms stopped and Pete withdrew fully from Ray's mouth.

The wheels turned in Ray's mind as he decided whether to spit or swallow. That was cut short when you licked the trail that was spilling down his chin. His lips parted for you when you coaxed him into a kiss.

Pete watched in awe as you licked and sucked his cum out of Ray's mouth. Ray earned a similar look as he swallowed the remainder and cleaned your face as you did his.

“Fuck me,” Pete mumbled as he caught his breath.

Smirking, you wiped the last of the cum and saliva off of your mouth, “Maybe next time.”

You turned your attention to Ray, who was still next to you, his eyes glazed over with a combination of exhaustion and satisfaction.

“How about we get you cleaned up and in bed, how does that sound?” You brushed his hair back and helped him rise from the floor. Pete followed your lead into the bathroom, his hand finding its place at the small of your back.

Ray noticed you first, if the way his eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly ajar was any indication. Pete’s gaze followed, a low whistle signaled his approval.

“Are you trying to kill us?” Your boyfriend's eyes dragged up your legs slowly as you set two glasses down on the patio table.

“It’s hot out,” You stated plainly. “I made lemonade.”

“And suddenly, I’m panting like a dog.”

“Har har,” you rolled your eyes. His pick up lines hadn’t gotten any better from when you had first met.

“Thank you,” Ray said picking up his glass. You nodded in acknowledgement as he tried to look anywhere but at you. Pete watched him in amusement and grabbed his own. You indulged yourself in watching his Adam's apple move up and down. Your traitorous brain imagining licking the sweat from his skin. As soon as he lowered the glass, you took it from his grasp.

"Oh, so you bring it out to me just to drink it yourself?"

”What you don’t want to share?” Pete’s eyes locked with yours at the conspiratorial tone in your voice. You raised your eyebrows as you took a sip and handed the glass back to him.

“Yeah.” He took it slowly, his eyes flicking over to Ray who was staring at an empty birdbath like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah, we can share.”

Looking up with tears in your eyes, you watched as they kissed. Pete's hand firmly held Ray's jaw in place. An idea struck you. You continued to bob your head as your hands moved to undo Pete’s belt; pulling out his hard cock and stroking it.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Petyr takes care of that which he finds precious. Especially you. He holds you close and presses gentle kisses to your face as he cleans you. Anything you ask for he will send a servant to fetch. If you take this time to tell him how good he makes you feel and praise him, he will melt under you. This is the softest and most vulnerable you will ever see this man be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, he loves his hands and mouth—the pleasure they bring you. At every opportunity he savors the look of his fingers in your mouth or soaking with your slick. He loves the taste of you on his tongue and the way you clench your thighs when he whispers in your ear.

On his partner, he loves your neck. How your pulse races under his lips as he trails kisses down it. When the weather is cold enough to require a scarf which allows him to leave his mark on the tender flesh. The sweat that rolled down it in the height of summer, falling to your bosom. How he planned to retrace its path with his tongue the moment he got you alone.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

While Petyr needs an heir in order to pass on the legacy he has built, he can't help but indulge himself in watching you swallow his cum. As a compromise he finishes inside of you then alternates between collecting what drips out with his fingers and feeding it to you or pushing it further into you to take root.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Despite having moved on from Catelyn, he would still have a threesome with you and her if the chance arose. He's not opposed to threesomes in general but this fantasy is one he keeps to himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. He was likely familiar with brothels before owning his own and I think he would have put in the effort to learn how to please his partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Petyr loves to take you while standing. Whether that be bent over or against the wall with your arms pinned above your head. His grip holding you up as your knees buckle from the force of your orgasm. The press of his fingers into your flesh is the only thing that grounds you in that moment.

He also loves being between your legs while you sit/lay on a ledge in front of him. No piece of furniture is safe.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Way more to the serious side. Especially when he is stressed or angry.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Grooming is uncommon in Westeros, but if any one is going to do it it's him. He wouldn't shave anything completely smooth but everything is kept neat. That includes his happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

There are days where he clears his evening schedule just to spend hours focused on you and there are days where he calls you into his office, bends you over his desk, and fucks you like he hates you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He sees it as beneath him but will still indulge in it in a moment of weakness if he is traveling and you are not with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Power play- Above all else Petyr is a man that craves power and nothing makes him feel more powerful than watching you submit to him.

Spanking- That man wants to leave his mark on you. He loves when tears of pleasure and pain gather in the corners of your eyes.

Mirror Sex-

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The only places in Kings Landing where the little birds cannot see are his apartments and his office. However on the rare occasion you return to Baelish keep, he takes you on the rocky shores and in dark alcoves in the tower.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Flirt with him very subtly in public. He thinks of himself as a composed and disciplined man. That is tested often when you lean close and whisper to him in the Great Hall. It's nothing too crass but he feels your breath on his collar.

Petyr loves it when you wear a long necklace with a modest dress line. He takes the opportunity to praise that he is the only one who will know how it will look on you when he takes your dress off.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any other man touching or even looking at you in a sexual context is the one thing he would not give you if you asked for it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to receive but does not disappoint when giving. He dreams of having you hidden under his desk while conducting business, but would never risk it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Petyr is a varied lover. Slow and sensual when you wake up in each others arms on a day were neither of you have any early obligations. Fast and rough when someone has frayed his last nerve. Fast and sensual when you bite your lip and beg him to fill you. Slow and rough when he wants to punish you for intentionally annoying him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He will always prefer to take his time with you, but he is not opposed to sitting you on his desk and testing the craftsmanship in the middle of the day. Sometimes, it’s the only way to get him to take a break.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you wish to try something he will make it happen, but he will not do anything that greatly risks your reputations or safety.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

One or two rounds; maybe three on a good day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has access to toys but is not concerned with using them unless his partner desires it. I do think he would love the sight of a butt plug in your ass.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Petyr could tease you for days. He loves to see how desperate he can make you for him. Would claim that he doesn't like to be teased, but would enjoy it a lot more than he is willing to admit.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

A relatively quiet man, mostly grunts and whispers against your skin. He's very into dirty talk from either of you. Loves to hear you beg (maybe try to make him do the same).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He secretly likes to make a mess of you. Not just make you come undone but to make you look unbecoming of a woman of your stature.

Another fantasy of his is to hide you under his desk while he discusses business. It is far too risky so he instead locks the door to visitors.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average. Like if there were default penis settings, he’s got em. Maybe just a little bit on the small side. Smooth and even-toned.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He yearns for you greatly when he is away for long periods. Otherwise, his sex drive is fairly average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Petyr was aware the bundle of Myrish lace shoved into your mouth would do little to muffle any noise. It was good then that you had long since learned to keep quiet. Uncontained, however, was the sound of flesh on flesh as his hand swung down on your arse. You knew exactly what was to come when the servant informed you that your betrothed requested your presence in his office. In the moments before he grabbed your arms and kissed you roughly, you had wondered who had incensed him so. It was rare that he could not wait until the evening to sneak you into his quarters and release his frustration there.

It was still a moon until the wedding, and as such you could not fully sate your desire for each other. Petyr was more than happy to teach you other forms of pleasure. Your favorite lessons so far involved his long, slender fingers and silver tongue; his own had you bent over his lap, much like you were now, skirts pulled up around your waist and small clothes down around your knees. Any concerns you had about marrying a brothel owner where erased when you discovered why said brothels where considered the best in all of Westeros.

On occasion, if you had intentionally done something to vex him, he would make you count the strikes. This time he simply spanked you. His other implements were hidden away in his chambers, so he made do with his flat palm; the cool metal of his rings adding to the sting.

Finally, he paused to rub your rosy bottom, “Such a good little songbird.” You mewled at his praise. Keening as his hand traveled lower and his fingers brushed against your exposed pussy. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he trailed his finger up your slit. “Does this excite you, pet?” he pulled his hand away. Marveling at the string of fluids that connected them. You could only nod as he placed his fingers onto his tongue and tasted you. Savoring you.

Without warning, his hand came down again, right on your swollen cunt, ripping a squeal from your throat. Tears gathered in your eyes as you bit down harder on the gag. “I cannot wait until I can claim you as mine.” Another.

“Fill you with my seed and let everyone know who you belong to.” Three. Four. Five.

“I want the men standing outside the door during the bedding ceremony to hear just how well I treat you,” He stopped to brush his thumb against your swollen clit, "How you sing for me." his fingers dragged along your puffy folds before he inserted two fingers. The wet noises competed with your own squeals to be the most wanton noise in the room.

“Anyone could walk through that door and see how you’re dripping like a whore just from being spanked,” His fingers curled inside of you. It never took him long to find that spot that made your vision turn white, and when he did he made sure to abuse it.

He pulled the lace from your mouth, “Beg.”

“Please, My Lord. I want it, I want everyone to know what you do to me. I would let you take me for all the realm to see. Please!" you cried. His free hand brushed the tears from your cheeks. He loved to see how long he could keep you on the edge of ecstasy. It was unfortunate that he had another meeting that day. “Lord Baelish, please. I— Ah!”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles. A moan, loud enough to be heard from the halls, escaped you. He relishes in the feeling of your walls fluttering around his fingers., imagining what it would be like on his cock. As your high receded, he sat you up straight and readjusted your skirts before pulling you to sit in his lap. A soft sigh left your lips as he brushed your hair from your face.

You knew he was smirking. He always took the most pleasure in your submission. How it came so easily for him, and only him.

You remembered the first time you met, his sycophantic smile made your skin crawl. He, like most men vying for your hand, had his eyes set firmly on the handsome dowry your father would provide. Yet Baelish offered something different, an agreement. Once it became apparent that you were not fooled by his wheedling, he made an offer: his land for your dowry and his heir for your freedom. Should you provide him with an heir and the wealth he lacked, you would live at Baelish Keep while he remained in Kings Landing. Forsaking the fantasy of the Tyrell's offering a marriage to Willas, a better opportunity would not present itself.

Neither of you had expected the fondness that crept in.

His firm hand tilted your head back. He brushed his thumb along your lips before parting them and spitting in your mouth. You whimpered at the display, ears still ringing. It was the strongest orgasm he had given you so far. It was a promise of what was to come.

“Have you made a decision yet?” asked Sihtric, his horse striding alongside Uhtred’s own. “Have you given it thought?”

“Given thought to what?” His Lord answered in false ignorance. It gnawed at Sihtric’s insides. He would not give up in his quest, yet he knew if he pushed the subject too hard Uhtred was wont to set his denial in stone. Lady Gisela seemed to take pity on him.

“Uhtred,” she warned from her place next to her husband.

With her aid, Sihtric continued, “My request to marry, Lord. I wish to have a family.” It was true. More true was that he wished to have a family with you.

He had been captivated from the first night he met you. Your laugh ringing out as he threw you on to the bed. How your brushed your fingers through his hair as you caught your breath. Still, he knew it was nothing more than he had payed for.

It was almost a fortnight later when he saw you walking down the road, the frost had tinged your cheeks red. Your arms were overburdened with logs as you trudged though the ankle high snow. He carried them for you to your home; a small room with a bed and a hearth. When you invited him in for tea, he saw how you had decorated with herbs drying from the ceiling, furs, and paint all along the walls. It was a proper home in his eyes, not just the place you rested your head as he had become accustomed to.

You laughed as he regaled the time he and Finan strapped fake legs to a horse and convinced a drunk Uhtred that it was Sleipnir, the chip in your front tooth evident, and he knew he was yours.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“Lord, you will answer the man.” It was Gisela again. In that moment Sihtric thought her sent by Freyja herself.

Uhtred sighed before turning his head to speak, “I will speak to her at Winchester and give you my decision.”

“Thank you, Lord.” With a grin, he fell back into line as Uhtred shouted back at him.

“But you are to give her no more of your arm-rings, nor silver!”

A gentle breeze swept through the valley, cooling the sweat on their brows. The sun, now past its highest point in the sky, warmed the earth as they arrived in Winchester. Finnan and Sihtric accompanied Uhtred while Osferth was sent out on his own quest.

After visiting your home and inquiring at the brothel, he was directed outside the walls of the capital. There, he spotted a figure emerging from the surrounding trees. The glint of silver around your biceps confirmed your identity.

“My lady,” he spoke softly as he approached, not wanting to startle you.

“I am no Lady,” you responded, the wind rustling your hair. “And I’m not working today.”

“No,” he blushed. “You misunderstand me. I am one of Lord Uhtred’s men.”

You said nothing, but looked upon him with suspicion and doubt.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, “You are Sihtric’s woman are you not?”

“That I am." You stepped closer to him so that the two of you could hear each other clearly. Osferth took a glimpse into the basket you carried. Elderberries and yarrow sat among a myriad of herbs. "You must be the Baby Monk I’ve heard about.”

“You love him?”

“Yes." There was an edge to your voice.

“Yet, you still take his silver?” The hurt in your eyes sent guilt rampaging through him.

“He is not the first man to make promises of love in hopes of a free night. I have seen the heartbreak and shame those girls are left with too many times to allow myself to fall for the same trick.”

“It is no trick. He wishes to marry you.”

“So he says.” You began walking back to the gates leaving Osferth to follow.

“You don’t believe him?”

“I wish to." You nodded to the guards as you passed them. "As much as I believe that Sihtric is different, I know those other women thought the same of the men that left them.”

“He has asked for permission from Lord Uhtred.”

You paused, hands tightening on the basket till your knuckles turned white. “He will not get it,” your voice was cold as you spoke. Osferth opened his mouth to argue, but you had already disappeared into the crowd of the afternoon market.

It was the next morning when Uhtred came to you. Sihtric had already departed after reluctantly leaving your bed and breaking fast together.

“Osferth spoke to me last night. He says your heart is true." Uhtred's words did little to calm your nerves. He sat across from you at your small table, drinking your own blend of vervain and violet tea. You could see his eyes flicker down to watch you tug at loose threads of your sleeve. "I will give my permission for you to marry.”

“Thank you, Lord Uhtred,” you said. Meeting his eyes was no easy feat, still you managed. “Sihtric mentioned last night, that if given your blessing, he wished to marry by the time your company leaves next.”

Uhtred shook his head. “You will come with us.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped before you could contain it. “A Saxon who fights with Irishmen, Danes, and monks now wants a whore to accompany them?”

“Not a whore, a healer. Osferth told me you where gathering herbs.”

“Mathilda’s son has a fever. I just made something to help bring it down.”

“Gisela said you often assist the læce. Do you know how to sew a wound?”

“Yes, Lord.” Though your experiences in doing so were less than pleasant as you struggled with the sight of open flesh. In truth, you would rather never do it again, but if it meant you could be with Sihtric perhaps it would be worth the sting of bile in your throat.

“Then you will be of use to us,” Uhtred said firmly, and you got the impression that he was not one to easily change his mind once it was set. “I will inform Sihtric of my decision. When we depart from Winchester next, you will accompany us.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” You could no longer contain your smile as Uhtred took his leave. As he bade you farewell he took notice of your thumb absent-mindedly stroking one of the rings while you stirred your tea.

Perhaps it should have become routine at this point. Woefully, that was not the case. You had birthed six of your eight children with Sihtric and while the boys joked that pregnant was your perpetual state of being, the labor remained grueling.

“I swear this is the last one,” you said through clenched teeth as the midwife rushed around you.

Sihtric knelt by your side, cringing as you squeezed his hand, “You said that during the last one.”

“I mean it this time. Seven is more than enough.” You suspected Sihtric would have as many as you allowed.

Aethelstan had come into your lives just after you had discovered you were pregnant. You agreed it was best for you to stay back, even after your first daughter was born. Sihtric brought Cynlaef shortly after that, he was less than ten years old at the time. 

It seemed that if you weren’t with child when he and the others returned you would be by the time they left. True to the promise he made on your wedding night, he was present for as many of the births as he could be. Because then came the twins and later your youngest daughter, named Fianna after Finan who had pestered you one too many times about naming a son after him. Truthfully, if Osferth had been any younger you would have counted him among them.

It felt like ages before the midwife placed the boy in your arms. Sihtric turned to Uhtred and spoke, “Last chance to have one named after you Lord.”

“No.” Both Uhtred and you said at once. But you supposed your husband was right, it was the last chance to name your child after someone you both loved so dearly.

Felix hadn’t planned for this.

After discovering that Oliver had lied to him about his life, Felix had returned to Saltburn alone, leaving Oliver with his loving, and more notably living, parents.

The nights grew shorter, signaling the end of summer. The new term had begun, and Felix felt a twist in his gut at the thought of seeing Oliver once again in lecture. Anger soon began to overtake the hurt of betrayal. With the anger came the want for revenge. And so, the idea came that he could wave everything Oliver wanted from him in front of him and give it to someone else. Someone that would umbrage Quick the most. Felix knew just that person: Michael Gavey.

What he didn’t expect was for the little shit to fight him on it so much. Felix had approached Michael in the Radcliffe Camera; Michael's apparent favorite library in Oxford and the most reliable place to find him. Felix watched him from a distance before approaching. The last time he had paid Gavey any mind was the outburst at dinner on the first night of Freshers' Week. Now that Felix got a good look at him, he took notice of the sharp angle of his lantern jaw and the truly hideous jumper he wore.

“What do you want?” Michael didn’t even look up from his notes as Felix stood on the opposite side of the table. Not one to be deterred from getting what he wants Felix answers,

“A few of us are going out for a drink this Friday, to celebrate the start of our second year. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”

“You must think I’m stupid." Michael sneered. "As if I would fall for that.”

Felix’s jaw clenched in annoyance. He took a breath before speaking, “I-”

“You can leave now.” Michael cut him off. “Unless you have something that’s actually worth my time.”

“Fine,” Felix leaned over the table and set his palms on either side of Michael’s books. Michael finally looked up, their noses still a rule's length away but closer than they had ever been before. “I want to piss off Oliver Quick. He ditched you to hang out with my friends and I, why not get back at him?”

“What did he do to make you so piqued?”

“He lied to me. Told me a sob story about his life so I would pity him. Those connections he wanted? They’re all yours. All the parties, the holidays abroad, everything.”

Michael was still skeptical, but hesitantly agreed.

And so, for the indefinite future, and to the bewilderment of everyone around them, Michael Gavey was roped into Felix Catton’s inner circle. Though, it was not without a fly in the ointment. Michael being that fly.

Felix had expected the lack of social skills. Michael laughed too hard at the wrong times and always managed to say the wrong thing. It was like watching an alien pretending to be human. Normally, that would be fine, entertaining even. Felix didn't need him to be likeable, he needed him to be present. But Gavey seemed determined to fray every one of Felix's nerves.

Felix had offered him opportunities that most people could only dream of. And yet, Michael insisted on rebuking him at every turn. He rejected party invitations, refused to buy his round when they went out for drinks, and he got along miserably with Farleigh and Venetia. The only time he listened to Felix was during an Alumni event. Michael followed Felix's advice on how to ingratiate himself fairly well. Felix had to admit, when Michael is in his element and chooses not to be a self-important dick, he could be quite charming. In his own strange way.

Gavey made it clear that he was only in this to get back at Oliver and to further his career. He didn't lie about a rough home life, as evidenced by the fact he laughed in Felix's face when the latter invited him to Saltburn over break. Even looking Felix dead in the eye to tell him that no amount of charity cases would make him a good person. It was a welcome change from Oliver. Who had clung to him like a parasite and did anything that he could to keep Felix's attention. Michael wanted as little to do with Felix as possible.

And that pissed Felix off more than anything. No matter how nice and patient Felix was, Michael spat in his face. The fucking nerve. He wanted to strangle him.

Things changed when Felix realized he needed a tutor. He liked to think he held his own in his studies. Never the best, never the worst. That is, until the 73% on his latest statistics assignment. Maths had never been his strength, but he was at least capable of an 80. He supposed he could just pay a professional tutor. They would no doubt be better teachers, not to mention better company.

This time Felix found Michael at a hole-in-the-wall cafe. It looked run down, but it was empty and quiet. Aside from the lone barista who disappeared after handing him his drink, it was just him and Michael.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bother each other outside of what was necessary.” Michael said before he could even sit down.

Felix sighed heavily, “I need your help with statistics."

“Of course, that’s why. No. I won’t do your work for you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Felix said, offended by the accusation. It was Michael's fault Felix was struggling anyway. Felix had never had someone infest his mind like this. Lectures were drowned out by thoughts of Michael’s deceptively strong hands and the skin of his neck that looked like it bruised easily. “I’m not asking you to do the work. I haven’t been able to focus lately, and I just need someone to walk me through it again.”

“Fine, sit.” Felix sat in the seat across from Michael. Michael snatched the paper from his fingers and started explaining everything Felix had done wrong.

Felix realized it was the first time they had spoken one on one, without any performance for those around them. He quite liked Michael’s voice when it wasn’t mocking him. Felix repressed a groan at the realization that the idea of Michael mocking him could very well be the next reason he loses focus in lecture. It was late afternoon by the time they had gone over the assignment, and to Michael’s shock Felix grasped the material with little issue.

When Felix returned from getting refills of their drinks Michael asked the question that had been eating at him, “You said before Oliver lied so that you would pity him, what did you mean?”

Felix told him everything about last summer. How Oliver lied to him and the feeling of danger he got from the look in Oliver’s eyes when he realized he was exposed.

“What a fucking lunatic.”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on Michael’s face as Felix let out a snort. He nodded in agreement as he spun his pencil between his fingers. Suddenly curious, Felix asked, “What about your parents?”

“My mum lives in Maidstone¹. We’re close.” Felix supposed that was why Michael preferred to go home during break.

“Your father?”

“He died when I was twelve.” Felix looked up the obituary later that night. Michael was telling the truth.

Fearful of losing this tentative armistice, Felix took a chance, “Come to my party this Friday.” Michael moved to reject him, but Felix continued, “If you hate it, fine. I’ll never bother you with it again, but just once. Give it a chance.”

Michael was strange and he refused to listen to anyone correcting his behavior. That weird little head wiggle he did after making a joke. The disturbed way he ate, as if he intentionally found the most incorrect way to eat a given food. It intrigued Felix. Every bizarre little quirk he learned made him itch for more. Months had passed since their agreement started and Felix had yet to lose interest. Worse yet, his interest grew. As evidenced by the bottle of lube by his bed side that mocked him. It got so much use, but so little action. He knew he had to do something about it.

Oxford wasn’t known for being a party school, but Felix was not going to let that stop him. His eyes scanning the room every few minutes. He had assumed Michael had blown him off, skipped the party to spend another night studying at the library. As he had been doing more often as of late. Finally, Felix caught the light reflecting off a familiar pair of glasses. Michael sat in the corner, nursing a beer. Wearing a tragic pair of khakis and a t-shirt with text reading “sometimes I go off on a” followed by an image of a tangent graph. His shirt was fucking hideous. Felix briefly considered ripping it off of him in offense.

He pushed through the bodies in between them and sat next to Michael, just close enough for their thighs to brush.

“Havin fun?” he asked, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“No.” Michael coughed from the smoke. “Everyone here is incredibly dull, I’m not sure why I expected otherwise.”

Felix quickly snuffed it and turned back to Michael, “You just gotta let loose. I’d be happy to show you how.” A cheeky grin graced his lips and his head lolled towards Michael.

Michael grimaced, “I think I’d rather head out.”

“How much have you had to drink? I’ll walk you back to your college.” Michael gave him a strange look; Felix had obviously drunk more than him. But Felix slung an arm around Michael’s shoulders which seemed to short-circuit Michael’s brain and shut down any argument he had.

The walk was quick with the night air biting at Felix’s exposed skin. He had neglected to bring a jacket, and Michael seemed to have no intention of sharing his. It wasn’t long before they reached Michaels room.

As Michael unlocked his door he said, “I think Oliver has stopped caring. We don’t need to keep up this ruse.”

“I think so too,” Felix slid his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The two stared at each other as neither moved to leave. Felix leaned closer, arm resting on the door frame. His nose brushed Michaels and the shorter boy recoiled. Felix could see the walls that had only just lowered springing back up.

“You’re drunk.”

“Sobered up on the walk over.” He could tell Michael wasn’t used to looking up at people. Startlingly blue eyes blinking wide up at him.

“You’re pulling something.”

“To what end?

“I don’t know.” Michael’s teeth were gritted, voice strained. Felix swears he can see tears threatening to make themselves known.

“Could you just not argue with me for once?”

- Is it wrong for you to watch neighbor!Aegon masturbate through his window? maybe. In your defense, he’s the one jerking off directly in front of it. Maybe you should start leaving your own window open more often…

- could you blame him for staring at ur tits on days you don’t wear a bra if you do the same when he wears sweatpants?

- Sure roommate!Aegon is a creep for stealing your panties, but based on the way you hump his pillow when he’s not home, you’re no better

- When he offers a taste of what he’s making in the kitchen, it’s totally not weird that you suck it off his fingers, it’s not like both of you are imagining your lips around his cock.

- Neither of you ever remember to bring a towel into the bathroom to shower, but it’s okay because the other is more than willing to bring one over. No, you don’t hide behind the door. What are you, a prude?

- You’re on a camping trip together and it’s cold, of course you cuddle for warmth. He was totally asleep when his hand grabbed your tit. And you were totally asleep when you started grinding your ass against him.

- If you truly cared about him looking up your skirt when you bent over you would probably stop wearing such short skirts, or at least wearing something underneath them (ignoring the fact the most of them have gone missing since you moved in)

- At what point do you both realise what’s going on? When you finally do, you both only get worse.

- Doors are almost never closed, let alone locked. The chances of coming home to the other person getting themselves off with the door wide open are very high

- Noise complaints. So many noise complaints. Aegon frames them and hangs them on the wall.

- You never willing leave the house without a load in your panties, you just want to keep him with you all day. If he has to leave before you, he will ‘season’ a pair for you to wear

- Yeah, he wishes you produced breast milk he could use it in his tea. But at least his fantasy is about milk. Not like yours with his cum in your coffee, weirdo

- Pray you don’t get a phone call during sex, bc he will make you answer it

- Free use that goes both ways

- Waking each other up with oral, waking up to the other touching you, waking up with his cock in your mouth

- Riding him while he plays video games

- You take alternate who cooks dinner and who bends the cook over the counter

- The same is true for who does the dishes and who distracts the person from doing dishes

- watching tv on the couch? good luck focusing on the show with him railing you

- Your morning yoga sessions almost never go uninterrupted, Forego wearing yoga pants if you don’t want Aegon to rip a hole in them