( Still crossed beneath her breast, one arm rests between the valley of them, pulling the fabric tight as her fingers stroke along her necklace's pendant. Gaze fixated as she drinks him in, her own eyes reflecting the same ravenous hunger as the candlelight dances within them.

Of course, he would turn her question back on her. Purposefully goading information from her when it is information from him she seeks. Pulling her lips between her teeth, she contemplates how she'll answer him, and just as her lips part to do so, she's shocked into silence.

I want to be at your pleasure. You have my hands, my tongue ... my cock.

Normally she would be cross with him for speaking to her in such a vilely common way, but it ignites something within her instead. A grin spreads wide across her lips. Bright and unhindered. Whatever courtesies and courtly masks she wears have been removed. The muscles in her cheeks quiver beneath the strain due to how rare she smiles these days. )

That is quite the tongue you have on you; perhaps we should — ( she abruptly pauses as he removes his eyepatch, silvery hair spilling over his shoulders.

Again he looks ethereal. Just as he lay across his bed, hair fanned around him as he stroked himself before her — at the thought of her.

He looks like a God, she thinks, watching the way the candlelight dances across his hair and skin, reflecting in the surface of the sapphire. Though his face is marred with the scar, it doesn't deter her as it might have with another lady of the court — it only adds to how enraptured she is with the sight of him.

Blinking and sucking in a deep breath through parted lips, Alicent gathers her wits once more and steps towards him. Tips of her fingers trail up the length of his arm to where they dance over his shoulder and collarbone. )

Perhaps we should put that wicked tongue of yours to the test.