( Within these walls and behind closed doors — or wherever they find themselves alone, away from prying eyes, and able to worship one another — she has no reason to hinder him or discourage his actions. She shouldn't, but she wants him. All of him and in ways that no mother should ever want her son. This fire of Aemond's is contagious, spreading through her like wildfire — corrupting her thoughts to have her desire things she never dared to think.
As he steps closer, her hand rests against the crook of his neck. Thumb and index finger rest against the base of the column, creating a half collar around it as her thumb idly strokes against the skin. Not once does she break his gaze or step further into him. Nor does she seek out his lips, but having him so close, it is hard to resist the temptation.
Without a word, she lingers before him. Allowing his hands to slip the rob from her shoulders as she watches his features while contemplating if she should make him pleasure her or if she should allow him to do it. Her hand moves down from his neck, over his chest, where it rests above his heart, where she feels it thrum beneath her palm.
After a moment more of contemplation, she backs away from him. One step and then another until she stops at the edge of her bed, where she precariously sits. Green fabric pooling around her as she shrugs the robe off. She then reaches for a pillow and tosses it onto the floor.
With her head high and shoulders square, she points to the spot she made before her. ) Before I answer that, I think you should kneel before your Queen.
no subject
As he steps closer, her hand rests against the crook of his neck. Thumb and index finger rest against the base of the column, creating a half collar around it as her thumb idly strokes against the skin. Not once does she break his gaze or step further into him. Nor does she seek out his lips, but having him so close, it is hard to resist the temptation.
Without a word, she lingers before him. Allowing his hands to slip the rob from her shoulders as she watches his features while contemplating if she should make him pleasure her or if she should allow him to do it. Her hand moves down from his neck, over his chest, where it rests above his heart, where she feels it thrum beneath her palm.
After a moment more of contemplation, she backs away from him. One step and then another until she stops at the edge of her bed, where she precariously sits. Green fabric pooling around her as she shrugs the robe off. She then reaches for a pillow and tosses it onto the floor.
With her head high and shoulders square, she points to the spot she made before her. ) Before I answer that, I think you should kneel before your Queen.