( With an ailing husband whose health continues to deteriorate as time passes, it is no secret or surprise that Alicent's bed has been cold for far too long. It has only added to the suffocating loneliness she ensured, leaving her wanting and needing, yet never seeking out that fulfillment out of duty and obligation to her husband, the king.
A pious woman, Alicent thought she was strong in her faith, that her devotion and sense of duty would be enough to keep her satisfied and resist the need for things such as affection or pleasure. She swore her faith could sustain her. That she was above temptation, but it was her strength and greatest weakness that made her crumble.
Together, they've crossed a boundary they should never cross, and she knows there is no going back and that she will never be able to look at him the same way again. The image of him beneath her will forever be burned into her mind — the sight of his mouth parted and wanting, the way his eye scans over her face with devotion, desire, and a need that she has never seen in another. He has seized her in many ways, being her strength and confidant for so long, only to entwine them together further in such a dark and twisted way that she knows she can never escape.
Though he vaguely remembers, his fingers continue to coax. Alicent's head tips back as her eyes flutter closed, and a breath of a moan escapes her lips when they pass over nerves or his palm rubs against her just right. She continues to move her hips, helping to guide his hand — to teach and show him how to bring her the most pleasure. )
It's because of you I feel this way. ( Tipping her head forward, Alicent looks down upon him once more; that pleading look upon his features accompanied by please steals her breath away, causing it to hitch in her throat. Her fingers tighten around him, squeezing when they reach the base and molding around the head once they slip up the length once more — coating her fingers with slick precum that helps her match the rhythm of her hand with her hips. ) You're doing so well.
( Having left him wanting long enough, she rewards him by leaning forward, their lips colliding once more — hard and rough and desperate enough that her lips might be bruised come supper, but at the moment, she does not care. )
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A pious woman, Alicent thought she was strong in her faith, that her devotion and sense of duty would be enough to keep her satisfied and resist the need for things such as affection or pleasure. She swore her faith could sustain her. That she was above temptation, but it was her strength and greatest weakness that made her crumble.
Together, they've crossed a boundary they should never cross, and she knows there is no going back and that she will never be able to look at him the same way again. The image of him beneath her will forever be burned into her mind — the sight of his mouth parted and wanting, the way his eye scans over her face with devotion, desire, and a need that she has never seen in another. He has seized her in many ways, being her strength and confidant for so long, only to entwine them together further in such a dark and twisted way that she knows she can never escape.
Though he vaguely remembers, his fingers continue to coax. Alicent's head tips back as her eyes flutter closed, and a breath of a moan escapes her lips when they pass over nerves or his palm rubs against her just right. She continues to move her hips, helping to guide his hand — to teach and show him how to bring her the most pleasure. )
It's because of you I feel this way. ( Tipping her head forward, Alicent looks down upon him once more; that pleading look upon his features accompanied by please steals her breath away, causing it to hitch in her throat. Her fingers tighten around him, squeezing when they reach the base and molding around the head once they slip up the length once more — coating her fingers with slick precum that helps her match the rhythm of her hand with her hips. ) You're doing so well.
( Having left him wanting long enough, she rewards him by leaning forward, their lips colliding once more — hard and rough and desperate enough that her lips might be bruised come supper, but at the moment, she does not care. )