[ Aemond feels like she is dragging him under. He sinks to her touch and the drag of her mouth. Fingertips scrapping idly at fabric, the other wrapped into the latticework barely holding on. The pleasure mounts the deeper she takes him. It swells him with honor, with pride, enough to overshadow those lingering guilts. This thing growing between them. It is coveted. It is sacred.
With the ease she gains on every motion the better it gets. The reverence of her tongue down to the moan in her throat. Aemond bites down on his bottom lip, stifling a groan. Hips shifting underneath her trying not to buck once he feels himself tickle the back of her throat. The rumbling of the carriage rattling her mouth as it passes over cobblestone of finer streets. He tried not to lift when her mouth rises. The heat rises in his throat, ripping his head back with a sharp gasp. Reaching that hill of pleasure that cannot be scaled down. She drags him there in what feels like body and soul.
Blindly his hand reaches for her, fingertips grasping at her shoulder. He canβt form the words, but itβs clear that the pleasure is mounting. Gentle affirmations to her die on his lips.The quickening his breath takes and chokes in his throat. They come to a stop again and he feels a shadow pass along the other side of the lattice. His hand rips back to bite the skin on the back of his hand to stifle his moan. He squeezes his eye shut as he comes and she pulls him deep into sweet oblivion. ]
( The stifled moans accompanied by the way he throbs between her lips and writhes with pleasure give away how close she has brought him. Even under the gratification she brings him with her mouth and tongue, he manages to keep some composure β something she imagines isn't an easy feat when he wishes to follow her mouth with his hips to chase rapture.
Feeling his fingers grasping her shoulder is enough to pull Alicent from her reverence. Opening her eyes, she looks up at him, her gaze heavy with lust as she takes in the sight of him biting at his hand and doing whatever he can to grasp onto that last bit of composure before it all tumbles away when ecstasy washes over him.
Releasing her hold on him, she grasps his hips, fingers pressing into their flesh as she takes all of him. Lips seal around the base while her nose presses against his stomach as she feels him throb, spilling into her mouth and throat as the taste of him fills her senses. Contently, she hums with each pulse, swallowing down each ounce until she's sure there is no more to spare. She slowly comes up with a final drag of her tongue along the length and a soft pop when she finally releases him from her mouth.
Still kneeling between his legs, she runs her tongue over her mouth, teeth, and lips, savoring the taste before swallowing again.
Helping to pull his breeches back over his hips, she's mindful when tucking him back in and begins relacing them. A shaken breath leaves her lips once she finishes, and instead of standing next to him or across from him, she gently rests her head upon a thigh, enjoying the last few moments of privacy before reaching the Keep. )
[ His bite is so firm it nearly draws blood. Finely bruised at least, the pain is rippling and broad. It does not distract him from the look in her eye he last saw. Nor the way it felt as she swallowed his seed. The noise she made at its taste. Tasting and pulling every last drop from him like it were a honeyed wine. Gods be fucking good. Is this what it feels like to be deserving?
The sharp edges of pleasure reach him as she slowly releases him, yet he doesnβt mind the white hotness of it. He sinks into the cushions under her, releasing the skin between his teeth as he gathers himself. His head rests along the wall. Rocking slowly as the carriage rumbles through. Feeling a sense of decadence, a sense of peace turn his limbs loose and useless.
He thinks he might not mind spending moons in a carriage with her. If this is how theyβll occupy their time together.
Aemondβs head pivots to look down at her. One castle gate opening for them. His hand drops to brush a curl away from her face with one light twirl of his finger. Resting it back into place. The carriage pulls forward through and trawls into the courtyard. The young prince leans forward. His idle hand reaching to draw her upward off his lap to kiss her. To press into her mouth and draw a taste of himself still lingering within the traces of it on her lips and tongue. Parting once the carriage rolls to its final stop.]
( If allowed the time away from prying eyes and those that would use their coveted secret against them, Alicent would stay like this for as long as she could. Basking in his affection and closeness. For the first time in years ( likely longer than she can remember ), feeling the emptiness filling as satisfaction washes over her.
Her head tilts into this touch, feeling the ghosting of his fingers against her skin as he places a curl back into place. As he draws her to him, Alicent once more shifts onto her knees, stretching into the kiss as she wraps her arms around his neck. Eagerly holding him in place as they share in the taste of him.
There is a reluctance as she pulls away from him, fingers catching in his hair and threading through the strands as she stands. Quickly grabbing the cushion from the floor and tossing it into the seat before sitting beside him. She reaches out, helping to fasten his jerkin closed once more with quick movements while the attendants ready themselves for their departure from the carriage. )
May night come quickly, ( she whispers as she fastens the final buckle, looking up at him before leaning in to steal another kiss before straightening herself with her hands poised neatly in her lap, ready for when the door opens. She waits for him to exit and follows behind after grabbing her book from beneath the cushion from earlier. )
[It was brief, but it was enough. The prince shifts in his seat to whereabouts it was before the door opens for them. As he stands, he fixes his jerkin by pulling at the bottom hem. Looking none different than when he might have entered it. Perhaps a bit more livened a bit more smug as he strolls into the keep with his mother in tow. One final look passed at her before they part ways.
The night, in fact, does come rather quickly. Only after a quick bath to scrub himself before he's expected to sit before a maester for daily lessons. The rest of his day foregone to do as he had promised her: navigating the hidden bowels of the Keep for the correct way to her room. Had he spent more time there, he might have found it more swiftly. But eventually found the best way to sort it out was to start from the king's chambers to find the adjoining path.
Sneaking in and through his father's room was an easy feat. Having been already visited by his maesters, they allowed him his early afternoon sleep. The cruelness is not lost on him as he slips through. Listening to pained wheezes slumbering under the burning of sacred herbs while he gently presses his fingers along the walls to find the crack that moves and opens a door concealed behind an old dusty tapestry. He pauses to look back at the lump in the bed. Feeling some twist of guilt that he is only here, has only visited him, as a means to betray him and the Seven to lay with his wife. A surreal feeling hits him. But he is already here, he has already committed, and he doesn't regret as he pushes on.
From there, it is easy to backwards navigate the way to the queen's chambers. Found in a panel beside her bed, shrouded in draperies. Waiting to enter until he is sure the room is quiet and empty before stepping in. She likely engrossed with the small council. To let her know, he moves something out of place. The book she'd taken in the carriage earlier moved from a table onto her bed. Slipping away again to now navigate himself back to a point where he might recognize and find his way to from his own room later that night.
The whole ordeal nearly makes him late for dinner. For which he is his usual self. At the prying of his grandfather, agreeing to speak on the morrow about the resources for Vhagar needed for the journey. The actual details sitting in a scroll in his room he had not yet the time to look at. By now the figures would be a scramble to digest. For the sun is set and the night has come. And whatever peace her mouth had brought him that day had waned again. The way he looks at her over half-eaten roast and spiced fruit tarts might speak as much. For the rest of the day was easy to get through but in the final hours they must face as they dismiss servants and whatever other court attentions might call them into the night. That will be the true torture. ]
( After parting, the Queen returns to her chambers. Depositing her book on a table and sitting at her vanity to refreshen herself for the tasks that remain for the day β a meeting of the small council, visiting with her husband ( though she suspects he will be deep within his slumber by the time she makes her way to him ), and some dull courtly gossip with the ladies of the court before supper rolls around.
A pang of delight flutters to life at the thought of supper, of seeing him across the table from her. Eyes locked under the candlelight and pretend interest in conversation as they await the full cover of night to join one another once more and give in to their sinful desires. Just the thought of him is enough to bring a flush of warmth to her cheeks, something she notices in the mirror's reflective surface as she brushes oils through her hair β hoping to mask the scent of dragon that might linger.
Sucking in a deep breath, Alicent holds it before releasing it, steeling herself and trying to push thoughts of him aside as she sets her comb aside and begins making her way to the small council chamber. She prays to the Seven that it will be enough distraction to keep her occupied and focused instead of her mind wandering.
More discussion of territorial disputes. Updates on the status of the conflict within the Stepstones. Movement of funds for better security and what will be allotted for her visit to Oldtown. It goes on and on until they are eventually dismissed, and she makes her way to the King's chambers with apprehension in her step.
Looking up from her hands, Alicent is relieved to see Ser Criston Cole standing guard outside her husband's chambers β this means his post will be here and not her chambers for the evening and that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Harrold, might stand post in his stead. The thought makes her wish it were Ser Criston outside her chambers tonight as she knows with enough persuasion and a demand coming from the Queen, he would leave her to her penance.
With a gentle nod to Ser Criston and Ser Willis Fell, Alicent slips into her husband's chambers and sits beside her husband. With a cloth, she softly dabs at the accounting sweat on his brow, pained to hear his agony, and offers his tincture of milk of the poppy and wine to help soothe his Then, grabbing Grabbing his frail hand, she holds it within hers, silently asking for forgiveness for the transgressions she has committed against him after being an honest and dutiful wife for so long. She can feel the guilt building, suffocating, and crushing the longer she stays, but after being lonely for so long, she doesn't her actions.
Leaving the King's chambers, Alicent gossips with several ladies of the court. Sitting and half listening as she contends with her conflicting emotions β emotions she knows will subside with time, but with how fresh and open everything is, they will ebb and flow heavily.
It isn't long before supper rolls around, and the Queen dismisses herself to join her family at the table. Engrossed in conversation with her father, Alicent wonders if Aemond will take supper in his room, but he arrives later than usual β only to be met with a raised brow from his mother before she turns back to the conversation. A conversation which immediately shifts to the young prince where the Hand wishes to speak of the resources that will be needed for Vhagar and the duties that entail accompanying his lady mother, the Queen, on such a long journey away from the Red Keep and King's Landing.
From across the table, the Queen watches the young prince as she picks at her plate β alternating between the savory taste of roast or quails drowned in butter to something sweeter like peaches in honey and an apricot tart. She knows that look in his eyes. A look she imagines is reflected within her own as the delights to come weigh heavily on her mind.
Once supper ends and everyone parts ways, Alicent makes her way to her chambers. With each step she makes as she ascends the stairs, she can feel her heart pounding harder and harder against her ribcage. It takes everything she has not to pull her skirts up and run up the steps. By the time she arrives in her chambers, Talya has begun bedding the room down, and Ser Rickard Thorne stands guard. She quickly dismisses them both, saying that she requires solitude for her penance and devotion to the Seven.
With her door closed and bolted shut, Alicent walks through her cambers to prepare herself tea and notices the book on her bed. Finding it strange since she left it atop a table, but realizes it is a sign from Aemond that he was here earlier and found her chambers through the twisting and winding innards of Maegor's Holdfast. She picks up the book and brings it with her, setting it on the table as she packs the strainer full of loose tea and pours steaming water over it. Allowing it to seep and cool within the glass before bringing it to her look as she gazes upon King's Landing to take a long pull and turning to begin readying herself for the night. )
[The night pulls on. After dinner, Aemond follows Helaena back to her and Aegon's chambers. Having been neglectful these past days, would see some attention to his niece and nephews. It's by far anywhere he would rather be, but it kills the time. It forces him to focus on something else, even if it is just the sparse and dreamy ramblings of his sister. Absent of the company from their eldest. It draws another issue at hand of the night, where Aegon might be. Likely fled into the city to feed his appetites. Helaena is unbothered for what would likely be a well-slept night, and thus the duty falls on him again to see him home.
Before retreating to his chambers, he finds Ser Arryk and gives him his orders. To find the elder prince and ensure he makes it back into the keep before sunrise. The responsibility of it is passed off his shoulders, but the weight of it remains. Sunken with annoyance and frustration. The things he does out from under his mother's eye to keep this family from falling apart. And now he must see her, the only thing he would seem to look forward to.
The night cools and quiets. Aemond too asks his privacy from his maid-servant and locks the door to his room. He doesn't give a reason, but it is not unlike him to shrug off the trivialities of being tended on every hour of the day. Dressing down to his linen undershirt and breeches. We're he fully preparing for bed, he would have removed his eyepatch. Instead it remains, a sour note that would linger upon every reflection. For as many ladies who enjoyed toying with the scars that knights show beneath their armor, there had never lifted the uneasiness in court over Aemond's eye. No one more uneasy than himself, even with the gleaming jewel inset in its place.
It feels surreal retracing his steps back through the walls of the Holdfast. Following back to the marker he made that would reset his path down to her room. Anticipation begins to boil, dizzying nerves that reminds him the first night he claimed Vhagar. Recanting the look in her eye she had at supper. The look of her in the carriage humming with him in her mouth. The look of her writhing in pleasure on top of him. He anticipates what he might find just waiting behind that door.
The seal breaks quietly in the room as Aemond pulls the panel door back by a small tether. Stepping in only wide enough as to not creak the hinges or send any signal of noise to any adjoining rooms. From behind thick curtains he can only see dots of candle light and draws them back with the back of his hand to see what awaits.]
( Taking a seat at her vanity once more, Alicent sets down her cup as she toes off her shoes, pushing them aside as she reaches beneath her skirts to remove her stockings. Hands travel over her legs before slipping between skin and stocking to remove them, one after the other. Standing with bare feet touching the cold stone floor before moving to a rug, she removes her dress.
It is easier with another pair of hands, but she makes do as she reaches behind her back to pull at the laces. Having to shift to make a bigger opening, but with time and effort, she manages to slip out of the dress, followed by her chemise, and places them over a chair to be dealt with come morning.
Parching through her wardrobe, she settles on another silken sleeping gown. It is soft and cool against her skin as she slips it on, tying the fastenings over her chest before pulling a green robe over it. She doesn't bother tying the robe and leaves it open as she returns to her vanity for her tea. Fingers wrapping around the glass and enjoying its warmth; she takes another drink. Then, emptying Emptying the glass, she moves across the room to make another cup β her robes billowing behind her as she walks the short distance.
As she's making herself another glass of tea, she hears the gentle opening of the panel from behind a curtain. Her heart nearly flies into her throat with anticipation, her stomach twisting as she feels foolish for having such a maidenly reaction when she knew he is coming. Yet, it doesn't take away from the dizzying excitement she feels building within the depths of her.
Grabbing ahold of her fresh cup of tea, Alicent brings it to her lips for a sip as she continues to gaze out the window into the city beyond. The candlelight dances over the shine of her hair and the reflective fabric of her robes, illuminating her in a soft glow as she turns just enough to glance over her shoulder to see Aemond standing there. )
[ Aemond is used to the feel of haunting rooms. To stand there a moment watching her just be is one to take in. He is not trying to be sneaky, but he moves slow. Taking her in. How the light shines on her. The seal broken now that he's there puts him in a strange state. The anticipation is still there, and it seems to be a feeling he thrives in nowadays. Teetering on the edge of something.]
Not at all. [The young prince excuses. For all that it was worth, the plan itself would seem a success. It might be everything else going around it had been the burdensome thing.
His hands gather behind his back as he draws near her. Egregiously formal, somehow. Perhaps out of habit of approaching her before. The nature of their relationship now feels like a breaking of boundaries, but still forced to obey the old ones. It doesn't feel correct to stray. And something about that makes it almost fun.
Aemond stops in a place not too close yet not too far. Eye grazing over the room before coming back to her. ]
I can show you the way if you need it.
[Honestly, she shouldn't know. He can hear Aegon's voice in his head now. Potentially ruining a good thing, getting to know this place inside and out. Knowing its worth more to them than anyone that might try to use it against them. But he likes the idea, perhaps, of doing something else daring for once. He thinks he likes the way she looks when she does it.]
( A simple hum of acknowledgment leaves her lips as she brings her glass to them once more, taking a long pull of tea before finishing it off and turning away from him to set her glass atop the table. She lingers for a moment, gazing upon the city before finally facing him, her hand coming up to finger the charm of her necklace. )
Knowing the inner workings of the Steadfast may come in handy in the days to come, ( she muses as she takes two steps towards him but stops, purposefully keeping out of arms reach as she begins to circle him.
Though she is no dragon, there is a proud fierceness within her as she holds her head high, eyes lathing over his form as she takes in the sight of him. For years she has been a quiet woman, a Queen blending into the background and overpowered by those around her, but it seems that he has lit a fierceness within her. One that has been hidden beneath the surface and reared its head that fateful night on Driftmark when he lost his eye. )
Does the idea of me sneaking through unlit corridors to seek out your chambers and companionship please you? ( Her arms crossed under her chest, fingers gripping at her elbows. ) Would you have me wanton and desperate enough to lower myself sneaking about?
( The thin, barely there material of her shift does little to hide the hardening peaks of her nipples. She moistens her lips with her tongue, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace at the excitement of going against her nature brings. )
Aemond looks down and smiles. Lips quivering in a way that might try to fight and stifle it from curling too quickly. He has not seen this side of her often. When she has a fire in her eye, a shift in the way she carries her shoulders. She should be like this more often. Men of the court might start to see her differently, but that was well beyond his place. Instead he can simply let her eyes rake over him. This is her nature, stripped away from titles and expectations. Let her fly free, he can handle her. He already rides the biggest and oldest she-dragon in this living world. ]
Yes, my Queen. [Aemond answers as his eye climbs from her feet to meet her gaze. Discerning the features masked underneath her thin gown. He does not move closer, perhaps she might like him to try. Perhaps she prefers him to stay where he was.
He has no objection to the image she paints. How the thrill might be to wake up to her crawling stop his bed. Dressed as she is now or even less. Despite his formality, it comes out rather cheeky. ]
A lady of your position should take what she wants more often. It suits her.
[ He feels like heβs one of the lambs being brought to the Dragonpit for slaughter. Standing before her in the middle of her room. With her looking at him in the way she does now. When she meets a point where his eye can no longer follow, he does not turn his head to continue watching her. Instead listening for her as she moved about. Waiting with the tips of his fingers digging at the palm of his hand still rested behind his back.]
( Had she not her composture about her, she might have stumbled in her step with how he called her my Queen β it made her just as wet as hearing him utter mother while drowning under the throwes of pleasure. The way his eye drags over her body, she feels bare, stripped of what little clothing shields her modesty, and he can see every inch of her beneath.
Alicent has felt more comfortable within her skin as the years have passed. Someone capable of stepping into the woman before him, but it has taken time to shape her into this woman. She was once a quiet, meek girl β devoted to her duties as a good and honorable wife. Over time, she realizes there is no need for that girl anymore, and she needs to grasp the blazing fire within her. To stand tall and shine bright, it is hard to overthrow the shadows looming over her for so long.
His cheekiness pulls a soft chuckle from her as she circles around his back, lingering there out of sight. )
It suits me, does it? ( She questions, voice soft as she takes another step forward but stays out of sight. ) And what would you have me do in these moments when I let go and take what I want?
( She's close enough to touch him if she reaches out, but she doesn't. Instead, she wraps the platinum stands of his hair around an index finger and gently pulls his head back so she can whisper into his ear. ) While we're at it and I'm taking what I want, remove your shirt and eyepatch.
( Releasing his hair, she steps away from him, once again out of reach as she starts circling him again, coming around to his front, where she stops. Ready to watch. )
[In his blindness he follows the sound of her footsteps and the shift of her robes. So when her hand coils around his hair, he feels the warmth of her at his back. Bending in slight to allow her to whisper in his ear. His eye flutters, losing focus on the wall at the brush of her breath against his skin. Breeds the flame within him that when she comes around again to catch his eye it is a bit more direct, a bit more ravenous.
His hands release from behind his back to begin tugging the shirt out of his breeches. His eye remains on her while he disrobes as she has requested.]
Doesnβt that depend on what you want? How you would like to beβ¦revered tonight.
[ His answer is belligerent, knowing what she asked of him instead. Itβs not as though he is short of a heated boyβs fantasy of the many ways he has thought of her between yesterday and today. How he looks at her while he thinks of them now. Pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop onto the rug at his feet. ]
I want to be at your pleasure. You have my hands, my tongueβ¦.my cock. [ How vulgar to speak so commonly before his mother. His smile grows a bit wider.
Speaking as he eases the eyepatch off his head. His silvery hair unbound underneath is released from where it had been previously tucked, spilling around his shoulder. Sapphire eye between the split scar gleaming at her in the dark. He feels vulnerable in a strange way and yet empowered there before her. A strange strange feeling.]
( 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 β ( 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 β 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 β 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.
[There is something in delighting her that fuels him. An old need crossed now with this strange mix of pleasure. Every time he pushes her, she seems to like it. It brings about this maiden starved and come back to life. The way she lights up, unbridled by anything but her own desire. It is an encouragement he doesnβt need. It is due to push him a step too far should she keep letting him like this.
A wicked tongue, she says. He smiles further. Jaw flexing as he moves that tongue along the roof of his mouth. Stepping towards her slowly to encroach deeper into her space. Into the weight of her hand brushing along his collar. Chin tipped down to maintain eye contact but not be so bold or generous to lean in further to claim her mouth. But he is close. ]
Shall you take it? Or I give it to you?
[He asks, chin tipping to maintain a line of sight as his hands come up to just lightly slip the robe off her shoulders. The desire to lift her nightgown and see her bare in the candle light combats his patience. Though he remains within some sense of propriety. The faintest of touches, accidental almost. The green fabric pillowing at her elbows. To only see more of her through the thinning silk underneath. Already mapping the ways his mouth to travel the length of her. ]
( Within these walls and behind closed doors β or wherever they find themselves alone, away from prying eyes, and able to worship one another β 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 β 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.
[ What will it be? Aemond finds that he doesnβt mind either way she decides. She seems to covet this command that is so rarely seen. Perhaps he finds it only so thrilling because he tends to already land in her good favor. Not that this is close to what it is to be in her bad favor, but itβs the strength she holds within herself. The way her hand pressed to his chest. She neednβt force him to do anything.
Which is why he would give to her freely. To worship her, to give her something she has long deserved. How it is to be that something for her, after all sheβs done for him.
The absence of her warm hand is felt as she retreats. Aemond doesnβt follow but for the turn of his head as he watches her land gently at the edge of the bed. Down to the pillow she tosses at her feet.]
At once, your Grace. [ The young prince responds with the same soft and bridled smile. Moving over and slipping to kneel upon the satin pillow before her. His hand dragging long fingertips down the exposed skin of her leg as he sinks upon his knees. His hands coming to rest in his lap.
Well? He seems to ask as his eye climbs back up from her to meet her gaze again.]
( For so long, she has played her part by performing her duties to her family, her King, and the realm that she has sacrificed so much that she forgot that such desires resided within her. He has offered her an escape from those bonds that bind her. Allowed her freedom she never thought she would experience, and she can't stop herself from grasping it while she can β almost afraid it will slip from her grasp at any moment.
As he approaches, Alicent's gaze follows his every movement. She isn't expecting his touch as he lowers himself to the floor, fingers dragging across the exposed slip of skin. Gods, his touch is maddening, sending a shiver ravaging her body.
If she were quicker and not overtaken by his touch, she would have pulled away from it and scolded him for touching her without permission. His hands are nearly folded in his lap before she can gather her senses β peering up at her as he awaits her command.
She looks down at him, face flushed with rosy cheeks and full lips from the rush of blood to the surface. Gaze glassy and filled with an insatiable desire he has unleashed within her. Slowly she leans forward, auburn curls spilling over her shoulder and the loose top of her nightgown opening just enough that he can see the valley between her breasts. Her hands drag up her legs, pooling the material on her lap as she exposes calf, knee, then thigh as she straightens.
Bracing a hand against her bedpost, she slowly spreads her thighs, the nightgown still covering her as it spills between them. ) Please me, Aemond, or are you only capable of sly remarks and pretty words with your wicked mouth?
[It speaks to his restraint and possibly as well as hers. For the deep instinct that Aemond feels tugging at his fingertips would be less gentle. The throes of eager passions long built up in this day would prefer to splay her across her sheets. Set the bed on fire. And take her down into the ashes until they are both spent and spoiled. She might not stop him from sating such a desire, but something about this is just as satisfying. Some things are meant to burn fast and others are meant to be savored. A dance of sorts. Familiar in his way of abiding her like the good son he is, but testing the limits to how far he can stretch that line before it is crossed.
Aemondβs eye follows the climbing of her skirts. She gentle slip of her collar and the brush of a dusky nipple underneath before she sits upright. At her word, he shifts forward in his seat. His hand immediately reaches out to soothe his palm over one of her knees and leans in to press a kiss into the inner side of it. Head tilted slightly to keep his eye on her with the gentlest of touches. ]
Will my mouth be so wicked if I can help you to praise the heavens? [ Aemond asks, warm breath brushing along her thigh. He shifts upright his seat and takes his other hand up to slide atop her opposite knee. Plying another kiss up her thigh. Gods is her skin soft here. Buttery smooth against his tongue as the silk pooling over the tops of her thighs tickles his nose. His hands follow and push the fabric back to expose her underneath. From there he can smell her. He can see the faint glisten betray her to him of how wet she already is.
Aemond wets his lips as he looks up at her for a short moment before his head dips down, chin ripping forward as he leans in and runs his tongue up the length of her. Tasting her full and deep.]
( The gentleness of his touch is maddening, setting every fiber of her ablaze with wanton desire. Leaving her wanting and aching for more. And Gods, does she ache for him. It is an ache she has never known. Beginning in the very depths of her, having burned into her soul, and spreading to the rest of her in an uncontrollable blaze. Perhaps if he was rougher with her or cruel or simply ravenous in his actions, she might not want him so, but he keeps whatever base desires restrained to touch her with a gentle hand that makes her want to lose her mind.
Slender fingers wrap around the wooden post of the bed, using it to keep herself upright as her eyes flutter closed behind thick lashes as his lips brush against her skin and his breath hot as it ghosts even higher along her thigh.
Whatever composture she has is in shambles as she desperately holds onto it. Trying to keep up appearances even in the throes of passion, it won't be long before he ultimately pushes her over the edge. Whatever dignity and perfectly placed facade will come tumbling down all because of him.
His mouth and tongue are wicked for many reasons, but most of all, for the way she craves them. To feel them crushing against her own and the way she wants them o map out every inch of her body. She wants him to claim every inch of her, take her for his own, and make her feel as she never has. )
If your mouth and tongue are not wicked and sinful for making me praise the heavens, what are they?
( As he leans further between her legs and moves aside the fabric, every instinct within Alicent tells her to close her legs to keep him from between them, but she leaves them open. There is no shame in how wet he has made her over these past few days. Leaving her wet and aching, needing more of him even after she had her fill and was brought to climax by his fingers. She should feel shame and guilt for these desires, but they are not there, and even if she had them, they would be washed away the moment his warm tongue laps along her slit, tasting her in full. )
Fuck, ( she curses. The word slips from her lips before she can stop it. Feeling herself getting wetter and needier, her hand rests on top of his head, fingers threading through silvery strands as she eggs him forward. Wanting him to devour and savor all of her. )
[ There is no shame or strangeness, only need. Under his hands he can feel her thighs tremble slightly under the first lap of his tongue. The unbridled curse falling from her lips is all the encouragement he needs. Stirring in his own want, still wondering how it would feel to have her tremble like this with him inside of her. If she would have him in that way. But it is not now he regrets. Now he has been waiting to do ever since her mouth had paid him a kindness earlier that day.]
Are they not reverent, mother? Devoted? [ Aemond asks slowly. Swallowing her taste. Something intoxicating about the musk of it on his tongue. His hands signal his descent again, pressing down a gentle weight along her thighs as he seals his mouth over her. Nose crushed into soft skin as he laps at her again with a few more slow strokes, teasing, before he speaks again.]
Does it not feel as though it lifts you closer to the gods?
[Pleasure should not be sinful, he thinks. This pleasure between them the least. Equal and wanting. Bridled with bright flames. His breath is almost cool when he speaks against the unspeakable warmth emanating from her. Trapped again as he plies his mouth to her. Fingers curling against her thigh as he can feel them shudder, shifts to rise one to rest on his shoulder. Allowing his tongue to do the coaxing his fingers had been taught. Following the motions of her rise along that bundle of nerves. Leaving his focus there to lease his tongue in a steady rhythm.]
( It would take time, convincing, reassurance, and taking the necessary precautions, but Alicent would have Aemond in every way he desires as they mirror her own. To have him nestled between silken things, buried deep within her as he throbs with want. Those thoughts and desires will come to haunt her waking mind, leaving her aching for him and disregarding any consequences that may come.
Slowly her eyes ease open, looking down at him half-lidded with desire as his tongue works at her. Coaxing whimpers and soft groans whenever her lips part to answer him. Struggling and drunk off lust, she pushes it down, clearing her mind of the fogs of pleasure he brings. )
Reverent and devoted, she repeats slowly, ( voice thick with desire as her fingers smooth through the hair at his crown. ) You've always been good to me. Devoted and bold. Everything I've ever needed.
( For as long as she can remember, he has always been a pillar of strength for her. Stronger than he needs to be. She finds herself relying on him more and more as the years come, and now, after crossing that forbidden threshold, she depends on him in ways she never thought or imagined possible.
As he dives in once more, Alicent whimpers, body trembling beneath his touch and tongue. The muscles in her legs flex, tightening as she fights to keep her hips against the bed and not rise to meet his mouth. Her toes curl, and her hips roll forward the moment his tongue begins teasing the nerves deep within her. Causing her breath to tremble and hitch in her throat. )
Touch yourself, ( she somehow manages, voice barely above a whisper. ) Or would you rather be in my debt once more? Brought to pleasure by my mouth and hands?
[ The young prince groans against her. Head tipping back as far as he can allow it as her fingers rush through. The way she sounds is divine. Tongue thick and heavy sounding. Sweet with her words that swell him with pride. He drinks off her pouring lust. It makes his mouth grow sloppy. Indulgent. Relentless.
To be needed by her is everything. It strikes in a deep well of want, satisfaction, purpose. The strength of a bond between them to know she shares with no other. There was no one else who made her feel this way. It was all to himself. To fulfill her, to bring her down to wanton and silken sounding. Losing to herself as he did under her mouth. He repays it with every lap and every suckle. It feeds his own want in ways he did not realize it would. The ache and tightness coiling up beneath him. Caressed by her trembles and moans as she tries not to buck too eagerly into his mouth. ]
Yes. [ Aemond answers against her. Candid and breathless as it pushes out of his lungs. Let him wait. Let her be in his debt again. Let her pull him back into oblivion tonight however which way she chooses.
His hands curling at the base of her hips to hold her down at the edge of the bed to keep her from bucking. Long fingers splaying into skin and silk. Using much strength as he needs to keep her from slipping or moving now that she grows more restless and wild in her pleasure. His mouth trapping that corner of her with his tongue as her breath hitches, running across it over and over again with every intake of her breath.]
( The answer is simple and to the point. His voice vibrates against her as he continues to indulge, tongue prodding, making her writhe with pleasure beneath him. Relentless in his devotion and eagerness to please, Alicent isn't sure what she has done to deserve such reverence and fidelity. After what felt like a lifetime of loneliness, she wondered if she was undeserving of such affection.
It all changed with him. No longer did she feel undesirable or incapable of being loved and cared for. He has given her everything she has missed over the years, with the promise of more.
Through him, she could sing to the heavens. Praising the Gods and thanking them. Thanking him for every ounce of pleasure he brings. And it isn't long before she's crying out as he finally pushes her over the edge, allowing ecstasy to run through her veins β making them feel thick and heavy. Her whole body trembles. Hips desperate to press into his wanting mouth, but with his strength and hold on her, she's unable to move. )
Aemond, ( she cries out, hand slipping from the post and gripping the satin bedding as pleasure wracks through her body. Legs trembling, muscles tense, and toes curled. Her walls trembling around his tongue, coating his tongue with more of her nectar as she comes down. )
[ For all that she has sacrificed for this family, this small thing is something he can do. To allow her to be seen, heard, and felt after so many years of watching her fight on her own. His father wasting away in bed who can barely remember her name, barely even remember his name. Mayhaps it was only a political arrangement. A duty shared. But she deserved more. She deserved to enjoy herself.
She breaks from above him. Her cries uninhibited. His hands lift in slight just to follow the motion of her hips. His lashing tongue slowing along the peaks of waves of pleasure. Much in the way his fingers had done to her before. Mouth vibrating as he makes a sound of content. Releasing her from underneath his hands as she comes down. His chin dips again to gently run the length of her. Gathering the excess wetness on his tongue before it can stain the silken bottom of her nightgown, a futile effort and an indulgent one. ]
You sound better when you do not try to stifle it. [ He notes, swiping his chin with the back of his hand as he slips out from under her. Fingertips grazing the tops of her thighs that allow the folds of thin silk drape back modestly over her. To be able to properly look up at her now. Drunken and wasted with lustful bliss. She is breathtaking.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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With the ease she gains on every motion the better it gets. The reverence of her tongue down to the moan in her throat. Aemond bites down on his bottom lip, stifling a groan. Hips shifting underneath her trying not to buck once he feels himself tickle the back of her throat. The rumbling of the carriage rattling her mouth as it passes over cobblestone of finer streets. He tried not to lift when her mouth rises. The heat rises in his throat, ripping his head back with a sharp gasp. Reaching that hill of pleasure that cannot be scaled down. She drags him there in what feels like body and soul.
Blindly his hand reaches for her, fingertips grasping at her shoulder. He canβt form the words, but itβs clear that the pleasure is mounting. Gentle affirmations to her die on his lips.The quickening his breath takes and chokes in his throat. They come to a stop again and he feels a shadow pass along the other side of the lattice. His hand rips back to bite the skin on the back of his hand to stifle his moan. He squeezes his eye shut as he comes and she pulls him deep into sweet oblivion. ]
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Feeling his fingers grasping her shoulder is enough to pull Alicent from her reverence. Opening her eyes, she looks up at him, her gaze heavy with lust as she takes in the sight of him biting at his hand and doing whatever he can to grasp onto that last bit of composure before it all tumbles away when ecstasy washes over him.
Releasing her hold on him, she grasps his hips, fingers pressing into their flesh as she takes all of him. Lips seal around the base while her nose presses against his stomach as she feels him throb, spilling into her mouth and throat as the taste of him fills her senses. Contently, she hums with each pulse, swallowing down each ounce until she's sure there is no more to spare. She slowly comes up with a final drag of her tongue along the length and a soft pop when she finally releases him from her mouth.
Still kneeling between his legs, she runs her tongue over her mouth, teeth, and lips, savoring the taste before swallowing again.
Helping to pull his breeches back over his hips, she's mindful when tucking him back in and begins relacing them. A shaken breath leaves her lips once she finishes, and instead of standing next to him or across from him, she gently rests her head upon a thigh, enjoying the last few moments of privacy before reaching the Keep. )
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The sharp edges of pleasure reach him as she slowly releases him, yet he doesnβt mind the white hotness of it. He sinks into the cushions under her, releasing the skin between his teeth as he gathers himself. His head rests along the wall. Rocking slowly as the carriage rumbles through. Feeling a sense of decadence, a sense of peace turn his limbs loose and useless.
He thinks he might not mind spending moons in a carriage with her. If this is how theyβll occupy their time together.
Aemondβs head pivots to look down at her. One castle gate opening for them. His hand drops to brush a curl away from her face with one light twirl of his finger. Resting it back into place. The carriage pulls forward through and trawls into the courtyard. The young prince leans forward. His idle hand reaching to draw her upward off his lap to kiss her. To press into her mouth and draw a taste of himself still lingering within the traces of it on her lips and tongue. Parting once the carriage rolls to its final stop.]
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Her head tilts into this touch, feeling the ghosting of his fingers against her skin as he places a curl back into place. As he draws her to him, Alicent once more shifts onto her knees, stretching into the kiss as she wraps her arms around his neck. Eagerly holding him in place as they share in the taste of him.
There is a reluctance as she pulls away from him, fingers catching in his hair and threading through the strands as she stands. Quickly grabbing the cushion from the floor and tossing it into the seat before sitting beside him. She reaches out, helping to fasten his jerkin closed once more with quick movements while the attendants ready themselves for their departure from the carriage. )
May night come quickly, ( she whispers as she fastens the final buckle, looking up at him before leaning in to steal another kiss before straightening herself with her hands poised neatly in her lap, ready for when the door opens. She waits for him to exit and follows behind after grabbing her book from beneath the cushion from earlier. )
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The night, in fact, does come rather quickly. Only after a quick bath to scrub himself before he's expected to sit before a maester for daily lessons. The rest of his day foregone to do as he had promised her: navigating the hidden bowels of the Keep for the correct way to her room. Had he spent more time there, he might have found it more swiftly. But eventually found the best way to sort it out was to start from the king's chambers to find the adjoining path.
Sneaking in and through his father's room was an easy feat. Having been already visited by his maesters, they allowed him his early afternoon sleep. The cruelness is not lost on him as he slips through. Listening to pained wheezes slumbering under the burning of sacred herbs while he gently presses his fingers along the walls to find the crack that moves and opens a door concealed behind an old dusty tapestry. He pauses to look back at the lump in the bed. Feeling some twist of guilt that he is only here, has only visited him, as a means to betray him and the Seven to lay with his wife. A surreal feeling hits him. But he is already here, he has already committed, and he doesn't regret as he pushes on.
From there, it is easy to backwards navigate the way to the queen's chambers. Found in a panel beside her bed, shrouded in draperies. Waiting to enter until he is sure the room is quiet and empty before stepping in. She likely engrossed with the small council. To let her know, he moves something out of place. The book she'd taken in the carriage earlier moved from a table onto her bed. Slipping away again to now navigate himself back to a point where he might recognize and find his way to from his own room later that night.
The whole ordeal nearly makes him late for dinner. For which he is his usual self. At the prying of his grandfather, agreeing to speak on the morrow about the resources for Vhagar needed for the journey. The actual details sitting in a scroll in his room he had not yet the time to look at. By now the figures would be a scramble to digest. For the sun is set and the night has come. And whatever peace her mouth had brought him that day had waned again. The way he looks at her over half-eaten roast and spiced fruit tarts might speak as much. For the rest of the day was easy to get through but in the final hours they must face as they dismiss servants and whatever other court attentions might call them into the night. That will be the true torture. ]
I'M SORRY THIS GOT WORDY
A pang of delight flutters to life at the thought of supper, of seeing him across the table from her. Eyes locked under the candlelight and pretend interest in conversation as they await the full cover of night to join one another once more and give in to their sinful desires. Just the thought of him is enough to bring a flush of warmth to her cheeks, something she notices in the mirror's reflective surface as she brushes oils through her hair β hoping to mask the scent of dragon that might linger.
Sucking in a deep breath, Alicent holds it before releasing it, steeling herself and trying to push thoughts of him aside as she sets her comb aside and begins making her way to the small council chamber. She prays to the Seven that it will be enough distraction to keep her occupied and focused instead of her mind wandering.
More discussion of territorial disputes. Updates on the status of the conflict within the Stepstones. Movement of funds for better security and what will be allotted for her visit to Oldtown. It goes on and on until they are eventually dismissed, and she makes her way to the King's chambers with apprehension in her step.
Looking up from her hands, Alicent is relieved to see Ser Criston Cole standing guard outside her husband's chambers β this means his post will be here and not her chambers for the evening and that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Harrold, might stand post in his stead. The thought makes her wish it were Ser Criston outside her chambers tonight as she knows with enough persuasion and a demand coming from the Queen, he would leave her to her penance.
With a gentle nod to Ser Criston and Ser Willis Fell, Alicent slips into her husband's chambers and sits beside her husband. With a cloth, she softly dabs at the accounting sweat on his brow, pained to hear his agony, and offers his tincture of milk of the poppy and wine to help soothe his Then, grabbing Grabbing his frail hand, she holds it within hers, silently asking for forgiveness for the transgressions she has committed against him after being an honest and dutiful wife for so long. She can feel the guilt building, suffocating, and crushing the longer she stays, but after being lonely for so long, she doesn't her actions.
Leaving the King's chambers, Alicent gossips with several ladies of the court. Sitting and half listening as she contends with her conflicting emotions β emotions she knows will subside with time, but with how fresh and open everything is, they will ebb and flow heavily.
It isn't long before supper rolls around, and the Queen dismisses herself to join her family at the table. Engrossed in conversation with her father, Alicent wonders if Aemond will take supper in his room, but he arrives later than usual β only to be met with a raised brow from his mother before she turns back to the conversation. A conversation which immediately shifts to the young prince where the Hand wishes to speak of the resources that will be needed for Vhagar and the duties that entail accompanying his lady mother, the Queen, on such a long journey away from the Red Keep and King's Landing.
From across the table, the Queen watches the young prince as she picks at her plate β alternating between the savory taste of roast or quails drowned in butter to something sweeter like peaches in honey and an apricot tart. She knows that look in his eyes. A look she imagines is reflected within her own as the delights to come weigh heavily on her mind.
Once supper ends and everyone parts ways, Alicent makes her way to her chambers. With each step she makes as she ascends the stairs, she can feel her heart pounding harder and harder against her ribcage. It takes everything she has not to pull her skirts up and run up the steps. By the time she arrives in her chambers, Talya has begun bedding the room down, and Ser Rickard Thorne stands guard. She quickly dismisses them both, saying that she requires solitude for her penance and devotion to the Seven.
With her door closed and bolted shut, Alicent walks through her cambers to prepare herself tea and notices the book on her bed. Finding it strange since she left it atop a table, but realizes it is a sign from Aemond that he was here earlier and found her chambers through the twisting and winding innards of Maegor's Holdfast. She picks up the book and brings it with her, setting it on the table as she packs the strainer full of loose tea and pours steaming water over it. Allowing it to seep and cool within the glass before bringing it to her look as she gazes upon King's Landing to take a long pull and turning to begin readying herself for the night. )
lololol
Before retreating to his chambers, he finds Ser Arryk and gives him his orders. To find the elder prince and ensure he makes it back into the keep before sunrise. The responsibility of it is passed off his shoulders, but the weight of it remains. Sunken with annoyance and frustration. The things he does out from under his mother's eye to keep this family from falling apart. And now he must see her, the only thing he would seem to look forward to.
The night cools and quiets. Aemond too asks his privacy from his maid-servant and locks the door to his room. He doesn't give a reason, but it is not unlike him to shrug off the trivialities of being tended on every hour of the day. Dressing down to his linen undershirt and breeches. We're he fully preparing for bed, he would have removed his eyepatch. Instead it remains, a sour note that would linger upon every reflection. For as many ladies who enjoyed toying with the scars that knights show beneath their armor, there had never lifted the uneasiness in court over Aemond's eye. No one more uneasy than himself, even with the gleaming jewel inset in its place.
It feels surreal retracing his steps back through the walls of the Holdfast. Following back to the marker he made that would reset his path down to her room. Anticipation begins to boil, dizzying nerves that reminds him the first night he claimed Vhagar. Recanting the look in her eye she had at supper. The look of her in the carriage humming with him in her mouth. The look of her writhing in pleasure on top of him. He anticipates what he might find just waiting behind that door.
The seal breaks quietly in the room as Aemond pulls the panel door back by a small tether. Stepping in only wide enough as to not creak the hinges or send any signal of noise to any adjoining rooms. From behind thick curtains he can only see dots of candle light and draws them back with the back of his hand to see what awaits.]
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It is easier with another pair of hands, but she makes do as she reaches behind her back to pull at the laces. Having to shift to make a bigger opening, but with time and effort, she manages to slip out of the dress, followed by her chemise, and places them over a chair to be dealt with come morning.
Parching through her wardrobe, she settles on another silken sleeping gown. It is soft and cool against her skin as she slips it on, tying the fastenings over her chest before pulling a green robe over it. She doesn't bother tying the robe and leaves it open as she returns to her vanity for her tea. Fingers wrapping around the glass and enjoying its warmth; she takes another drink. Then, emptying Emptying the glass, she moves across the room to make another cup β her robes billowing behind her as she walks the short distance.
As she's making herself another glass of tea, she hears the gentle opening of the panel from behind a curtain. Her heart nearly flies into her throat with anticipation, her stomach twisting as she feels foolish for having such a maidenly reaction when she knew he is coming. Yet, it doesn't take away from the dizzying excitement she feels building within the depths of her.
Grabbing ahold of her fresh cup of tea, Alicent brings it to her lips for a sip as she continues to gaze out the window into the city beyond. The candlelight dances over the shine of her hair and the reflective fabric of her robes, illuminating her in a soft glow as she turns just enough to glance over her shoulder to see Aemond standing there. )
I hope that coming here was not too burdensome.
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Not at all. [The young prince excuses. For all that it was worth, the plan itself would seem a success. It might be everything else going around it had been the burdensome thing.
His hands gather behind his back as he draws near her. Egregiously formal, somehow. Perhaps out of habit of approaching her before. The nature of their relationship now feels like a breaking of boundaries, but still forced to obey the old ones. It doesn't feel correct to stray. And something about that makes it almost fun.
Aemond stops in a place not too close yet not too far. Eye grazing over the room before coming back to her. ]
I can show you the way if you need it.
[Honestly, she shouldn't know. He can hear Aegon's voice in his head now. Potentially ruining a good thing, getting to know this place inside and out. Knowing its worth more to them than anyone that might try to use it against them. But he likes the idea, perhaps, of doing something else daring for once. He thinks he likes the way she looks when she does it.]
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Knowing the inner workings of the Steadfast may come in handy in the days to come, ( she muses as she takes two steps towards him but stops, purposefully keeping out of arms reach as she begins to circle him.
Though she is no dragon, there is a proud fierceness within her as she holds her head high, eyes lathing over his form as she takes in the sight of him. For years she has been a quiet woman, a Queen blending into the background and overpowered by those around her, but it seems that he has lit a fierceness within her. One that has been hidden beneath the surface and reared its head that fateful night on Driftmark when he lost his eye. )
Does the idea of me sneaking through unlit corridors to seek out your chambers and companionship please you? ( Her arms crossed under her chest, fingers gripping at her elbows. ) Would you have me wanton and desperate enough to lower myself sneaking about?
( The thin, barely there material of her shift does little to hide the hardening peaks of her nipples. She moistens her lips with her tongue, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace at the excitement of going against her nature brings. )
Answer me, Aemond.
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Aemond looks down and smiles. Lips quivering in a way that might try to fight and stifle it from curling too quickly. He has not seen this side of her often. When she has a fire in her eye, a shift in the way she carries her shoulders. She should be like this more often. Men of the court might start to see her differently, but that was well beyond his place. Instead he can simply let her eyes rake over him. This is her nature, stripped away from titles and expectations. Let her fly free, he can handle her. He already rides the biggest and oldest she-dragon in this living world. ]
Yes, my Queen. [Aemond answers as his eye climbs from her feet to meet her gaze. Discerning the features masked underneath her thin gown. He does not move closer, perhaps she might like him to try. Perhaps she prefers him to stay where he was.
He has no objection to the image she paints. How the thrill might be to wake up to her crawling stop his bed. Dressed as she is now or even less. Despite his formality, it comes out rather cheeky. ]
A lady of your position should take what she wants more often. It suits her.
[ He feels like heβs one of the lambs being brought to the Dragonpit for slaughter. Standing before her in the middle of her room. With her looking at him in the way she does now. When she meets a point where his eye can no longer follow, he does not turn his head to continue watching her. Instead listening for her as she moved about. Waiting with the tips of his fingers digging at the palm of his hand still rested behind his back.]
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Alicent has felt more comfortable within her skin as the years have passed. Someone capable of stepping into the woman before him, but it has taken time to shape her into this woman. She was once a quiet, meek girl β devoted to her duties as a good and honorable wife. Over time, she realizes there is no need for that girl anymore, and she needs to grasp the blazing fire within her. To stand tall and shine bright, it is hard to overthrow the shadows looming over her for so long.
His cheekiness pulls a soft chuckle from her as she circles around his back, lingering there out of sight. )
It suits me, does it? ( She questions, voice soft as she takes another step forward but stays out of sight. ) And what would you have me do in these moments when I let go and take what I want?
( She's close enough to touch him if she reaches out, but she doesn't. Instead, she wraps the platinum stands of his hair around an index finger and gently pulls his head back so she can whisper into his ear. ) While we're at it and I'm taking what I want, remove your shirt and eyepatch.
( Releasing his hair, she steps away from him, once again out of reach as she starts circling him again, coming around to his front, where she stops. Ready to watch. )
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His hands release from behind his back to begin tugging the shirt out of his breeches. His eye remains on her while he disrobes as she has requested.]
Doesnβt that depend on what you want? How you would like to beβ¦revered tonight.
[ His answer is belligerent, knowing what she asked of him instead. Itβs not as though he is short of a heated boyβs fantasy of the many ways he has thought of her between yesterday and today. How he looks at her while he thinks of them now. Pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop onto the rug at his feet. ]
I want to be at your pleasure. You have my hands, my tongueβ¦.my cock. [ How vulgar to speak so commonly before his mother. His smile grows a bit wider.
Speaking as he eases the eyepatch off his head. His silvery hair unbound underneath is released from where it had been previously tucked, spilling around his shoulder. Sapphire eye between the split scar gleaming at her in the dark. He feels vulnerable in a strange way and yet empowered there before her. A strange strange feeling.]
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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 β ( 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 β 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 β 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.
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A wicked tongue, she says. He smiles further. Jaw flexing as he moves that tongue along the roof of his mouth. Stepping towards her slowly to encroach deeper into her space. Into the weight of her hand brushing along his collar. Chin tipped down to maintain eye contact but not be so bold or generous to lean in further to claim her mouth. But he is close. ]
Shall you take it? Or I give it to you?
[He asks, chin tipping to maintain a line of sight as his hands come up to just lightly slip the robe off her shoulders. The desire to lift her nightgown and see her bare in the candle light combats his patience. Though he remains within some sense of propriety. The faintest of touches, accidental almost. The green fabric pillowing at her elbows. To only see more of her through the thinning silk underneath. Already mapping the ways his mouth to travel the length of her. ]
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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.
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Which is why he would give to her freely. To worship her, to give her something she has long deserved. How it is to be that something for her, after all sheβs done for him.
The absence of her warm hand is felt as she retreats. Aemond doesnβt follow but for the turn of his head as he watches her land gently at the edge of the bed. Down to the pillow she tosses at her feet.]
At once, your Grace. [ The young prince responds with the same soft and bridled smile. Moving over and slipping to kneel upon the satin pillow before her. His hand dragging long fingertips down the exposed skin of her leg as he sinks upon his knees. His hands coming to rest in his lap.
Well? He seems to ask as his eye climbs back up from her to meet her gaze again.]
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As he approaches, Alicent's gaze follows his every movement. She isn't expecting his touch as he lowers himself to the floor, fingers dragging across the exposed slip of skin. Gods, his touch is maddening, sending a shiver ravaging her body.
If she were quicker and not overtaken by his touch, she would have pulled away from it and scolded him for touching her without permission. His hands are nearly folded in his lap before she can gather her senses β peering up at her as he awaits her command.
She looks down at him, face flushed with rosy cheeks and full lips from the rush of blood to the surface. Gaze glassy and filled with an insatiable desire he has unleashed within her. Slowly she leans forward, auburn curls spilling over her shoulder and the loose top of her nightgown opening just enough that he can see the valley between her breasts. Her hands drag up her legs, pooling the material on her lap as she exposes calf, knee, then thigh as she straightens.
Bracing a hand against her bedpost, she slowly spreads her thighs, the nightgown still covering her as it spills between them. ) Please me, Aemond, or are you only capable of sly remarks and pretty words with your wicked mouth?
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Aemondβs eye follows the climbing of her skirts. She gentle slip of her collar and the brush of a dusky nipple underneath before she sits upright. At her word, he shifts forward in his seat. His hand immediately reaches out to soothe his palm over one of her knees and leans in to press a kiss into the inner side of it. Head tilted slightly to keep his eye on her with the gentlest of touches. ]
Will my mouth be so wicked if I can help you to praise the heavens? [ Aemond asks, warm breath brushing along her thigh. He shifts upright his seat and takes his other hand up to slide atop her opposite knee. Plying another kiss up her thigh. Gods is her skin soft here. Buttery smooth against his tongue as the silk pooling over the tops of her thighs tickles his nose. His hands follow and push the fabric back to expose her underneath. From there he can smell her. He can see the faint glisten betray her to him of how wet she already is.
Aemond wets his lips as he looks up at her for a short moment before his head dips down, chin ripping forward as he leans in and runs his tongue up the length of her. Tasting her full and deep.]
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Slender fingers wrap around the wooden post of the bed, using it to keep herself upright as her eyes flutter closed behind thick lashes as his lips brush against her skin and his breath hot as it ghosts even higher along her thigh.
Whatever composture she has is in shambles as she desperately holds onto it. Trying to keep up appearances even in the throes of passion, it won't be long before he ultimately pushes her over the edge. Whatever dignity and perfectly placed facade will come tumbling down all because of him.
His mouth and tongue are wicked for many reasons, but most of all, for the way she craves them. To feel them crushing against her own and the way she wants them o map out every inch of her body. She wants him to claim every inch of her, take her for his own, and make her feel as she never has. )
If your mouth and tongue are not wicked and sinful for making me praise the heavens, what are they?
( As he leans further between her legs and moves aside the fabric, every instinct within Alicent tells her to close her legs to keep him from between them, but she leaves them open. There is no shame in how wet he has made her over these past few days. Leaving her wet and aching, needing more of him even after she had her fill and was brought to climax by his fingers. She should feel shame and guilt for these desires, but they are not there, and even if she had them, they would be washed away the moment his warm tongue laps along her slit, tasting her in full. )
Fuck, ( she curses. The word slips from her lips before she can stop it. Feeling herself getting wetter and needier, her hand rests on top of his head, fingers threading through silvery strands as she eggs him forward. Wanting him to devour and savor all of her. )
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Are they not reverent, mother? Devoted? [ Aemond asks slowly. Swallowing her taste. Something intoxicating about the musk of it on his tongue. His hands signal his descent again, pressing down a gentle weight along her thighs as he seals his mouth over her. Nose crushed into soft skin as he laps at her again with a few more slow strokes, teasing, before he speaks again.]
Does it not feel as though it lifts you closer to the gods?
[Pleasure should not be sinful, he thinks. This pleasure between them the least. Equal and wanting. Bridled with bright flames. His breath is almost cool when he speaks against the unspeakable warmth emanating from her. Trapped again as he plies his mouth to her. Fingers curling against her thigh as he can feel them shudder, shifts to rise one to rest on his shoulder. Allowing his tongue to do the coaxing his fingers had been taught. Following the motions of her rise along that bundle of nerves. Leaving his focus there to lease his tongue in a steady rhythm.]
merry shitscram π
Slowly her eyes ease open, looking down at him half-lidded with desire as his tongue works at her. Coaxing whimpers and soft groans whenever her lips part to answer him. Struggling and drunk off lust, she pushes it down, clearing her mind of the fogs of pleasure he brings. )
Reverent and devoted, she repeats slowly, ( voice thick with desire as her fingers smooth through the hair at his crown. ) You've always been good to me. Devoted and bold. Everything I've ever needed.
( For as long as she can remember, he has always been a pillar of strength for her. Stronger than he needs to be. She finds herself relying on him more and more as the years come, and now, after crossing that forbidden threshold, she depends on him in ways she never thought or imagined possible.
As he dives in once more, Alicent whimpers, body trembling beneath his touch and tongue. The muscles in her legs flex, tightening as she fights to keep her hips against the bed and not rise to meet his mouth. Her toes curl, and her hips roll forward the moment his tongue begins teasing the nerves deep within her. Causing her breath to tremble and hitch in her throat. )
Touch yourself, ( she somehow manages, voice barely above a whisper. ) Or would you rather be in my debt once more? Brought to pleasure by my mouth and hands?
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To be needed by her is everything. It strikes in a deep well of want, satisfaction, purpose. The strength of a bond between them to know she shares with no other. There was no one else who made her feel this way. It was all to himself. To fulfill her, to bring her down to wanton and silken sounding. Losing to herself as he did under her mouth. He repays it with every lap and every suckle. It feeds his own want in ways he did not realize it would. The ache and tightness coiling up beneath him. Caressed by her trembles and moans as she tries not to buck too eagerly into his mouth. ]
Yes. [ Aemond answers against her. Candid and breathless as it pushes out of his lungs. Let him wait. Let her be in his debt again. Let her pull him back into oblivion tonight however which way she chooses.
His hands curling at the base of her hips to hold her down at the edge of the bed to keep her from bucking. Long fingers splaying into skin and silk. Using much strength as he needs to keep her from slipping or moving now that she grows more restless and wild in her pleasure. His mouth trapping that corner of her with his tongue as her breath hitches, running across it over and over again with every intake of her breath.]
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It all changed with him. No longer did she feel undesirable or incapable of being loved and cared for. He has given her everything she has missed over the years, with the promise of more.
Through him, she could sing to the heavens. Praising the Gods and thanking them. Thanking him for every ounce of pleasure he brings. And it isn't long before she's crying out as he finally pushes her over the edge, allowing ecstasy to run through her veins β making them feel thick and heavy. Her whole body trembles. Hips desperate to press into his wanting mouth, but with his strength and hold on her, she's unable to move. )
Aemond, ( she cries out, hand slipping from the post and gripping the satin bedding as pleasure wracks through her body. Legs trembling, muscles tense, and toes curled. Her walls trembling around his tongue, coating his tongue with more of her nectar as she comes down. )
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She breaks from above him. Her cries uninhibited. His hands lift in slight just to follow the motion of her hips. His lashing tongue slowing along the peaks of waves of pleasure. Much in the way his fingers had done to her before. Mouth vibrating as he makes a sound of content. Releasing her from underneath his hands as she comes down. His chin dips again to gently run the length of her. Gathering the excess wetness on his tongue before it can stain the silken bottom of her nightgown, a futile effort and an indulgent one. ]
You sound better when you do not try to stifle it. [ He notes, swiping his chin with the back of his hand as he slips out from under her. Fingertips grazing the tops of her thighs that allow the folds of thin silk drape back modestly over her. To be able to properly look up at her now. Drunken and wasted with lustful bliss. She is breathtaking.]
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wow 100 comments deep already π
ππlook at us go
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forever later
π Iβm on my phone so I sure hope thatβs the right html for hovertext
guess who's back, back again?
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