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Your marriage bed had never felt so large. You sat at its edge, fingers smoothing over silk that had no business feeling so scandalous against your skin. The fabric pooled in your lap, shimmering faintly as though it, too, waited for something that never came.
It had been months. Months of polite distance, of Maekar sleeping beside you but never reaching for you, months of his hand hovering once or twice, before retreating as though burned.
When you had been promised to Maekar you had done so with a glad heart. You knew of him of course, your paths crossing in court. Your eyes drawn to his handsome face, often forlorn. You knew his heart ached with loss and the weight of the realm and caring for his children alone, you hoped you would help ease his burden.
Instead, you had been given a ghost. One determined to ignore you.
He had not been the same since Baelor’s death. The majority court whispered it had been an accident, a tourney blow gone wrong. Others whispered ‘kinslayer’ You had seen the way Maekar carried it, in the way he avoided laughter, in the way he no longer met his own reflection for long.
He believed himself cursed and believed you deserved better. He had objected to the match, however had been overruled but the king and reluctantly sent down the aisle.
You had tired to be what he needed. His children loved you of course, that is why the king picked you, able to love them how they needed without replacing the memory of their mother. Slowly but surely they all came around, even little Aegon.
Their father however was a different story you had tried patience, soft words, gentle touches. Nothing breached the walls he had built.
So you had done something reckless. After too much wine and encouragement from your sisters you had ordered something daring. The seamstress had sworn discretion of course, the silks had been commissioned, measured carefully to lay beautifully against your skin, the neckline dipping low with next to no back, requiring no assistance to slip on or off.
Something that invited and enticed. Something that said you are my husband, claim me as yours.
Instead the folded garment now lay folded across your lap. You had meant to wear it tonight but your nerves had gotten the better of you, instead you stared down at the fabric biting at your lip.
As you were deep in thought the door opened, startled nearly knocking the silk from your lap, you shoved it beneath your pillow. Maekar stepped inside, shoulders tense, jaw set in that scowl that has become his contestant expression.
His eyes landed on you, then dropping down the pillow beside you, on the corner of red silk you had not managed to conceal fully, stark against the white linens of your bed.
He stilled “What is that?” he asked, frown between his brows becoming deeper, if possible, closing the chamber door with a thud.
Your pulse skipped “Nothing” you said voice too high pitched, you had always been a terrible lair.
His gaze sharpened, at your obvious attempt to lie. Maekar crossed the room in three long strides. You rose instinctively, placing yourself between him and pillow, but he was faster. His hand dipped past you, retrieving the fabric.
The silk unfurled in his hand, the room went very quiet, as you sucked in a breath.
His expression changed first to confusion, then to something far worse.
“You have been busy,” he said slowly, examining the silk in his hands not meeting your gaze.
Your stomach dropped feeling very foolish “Maekar I can explain”
“For whom?” he asked, still not looking up
You blinked not quite taking in his words “I don’t understand”
“For whom?” he repeated, voice dangerously low, violet eyes meeting yours
“For you” you said heat rising to your cheeks, feeling embarrassed and angry as the implication of his words sank in “Who else would I” He laughed low and sharp, cutting you off.
“I have not touched you” he continued, hands twisting around the silk eyes darkening “You would not be so secretive over a piece of cloth otherwise” throwing the garment down like he could no longer stand to look at it “How long?” he asked.
Rage flared in your belly hot and blinding “You dare think I have taken a lover?” you demanded, angry and hurt
“What else am I meant to believe” he snapped, grief and jealousy twisting together into something sharp. “You are beautiful maiden, married to a man who cannot even bring himself to lie beside you” The accusation in his own voice hurt him more than you.
“You arrogant fool” you hissed, unable to stop yourself as you point him hard him his chest “I the dress made because you will not look at me, because I am your wife and you will not even reach for me, because you don’t want me” the rage in your voice quivering at the end.
His jaw tightened, catching your hand as you went to poke him again “You deserve better than me” his voice mixed with emotion.
“I did not want better” you shot back “I wanted you” The words hit him harder than any blow “I knew your reputation. I knew about Baelor. I knew you did not want this marriage.” Your voice trembles now, but you do not look away. “And I chose you anyway. You speak as though I am some burden you were forced to accept” you add bitterly, trying to pull your hand away.
His fingers tightened around yours, refusing to let you go. “You think I have not wanted you?” he said, stepping closer now, pulling your hand to his chest, above his heart “You think I do not wake every night knowing you are beside me?” His voice low, his face close to yours.
“Wanting is not the same as claiming,” you fire back, breath coming quickly now. You press your hand flat against his chest under his hand, feeling the steady beat of heart
“I am your wife” you say softly, eyes meeting his as his breath catches.
“But if you will not have me” you say, quieter now, deadlier “there are men who would”
The air shifts as something in his eyes changes instantly “Choose your next words carefully” he warns, low voice rumbling through his chest.
“Why?” you challenge. “Because it is true? Because you have left me untouched and unloved that men of court have taken notice?” You challenge your voice but a whisper.
His jaw clenches, his free hand flexing at his size “Who?” he demands.
You pull your wrist free from his chest “No one” you snap. “But it would not be difficult, would it? A young bride. A prince who will not claim her. A lonely woman is a tempting thing.”
His breathing grows heavier “You would shame me so easily?” He practically growls.
“I would be desired” you correct sharply chest heaving “Which is more than I can say for my own husband”
That does it. He crowds you back until your spine meets the bedpost, as you let out a gasp at his quickness. His hands bracket you on either side, caging you in, but he does not touch you yet.
“You think I do not desire you?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You think I have not imagined you under me every night?”
Your pulse stutters but you refuse to back down “Then prove it,” you challenge “If you do not want me, say it plainly. And I will find someone who does.”
His restraint finally snaps. “You are mine,” he says, the words practically growled “You will not seek another” Before you can respond, his mouth crashes down on yours. The kiss is fierce at first, his lips demanding, tongue pushing past your teeth to claim your mouth with a hunger that's been building for months. You gasp into him, your hands fisting in his tunic as your body arches toward his, finally feeling the press of his solid frame against you.
He breaks the kiss just enough to growl against your lips “I have desired you since I first laid eyes on you in gardens” His hands move then, not gentle but deliberate, fingers hooking into the laces of your gown at your shoulders. He tugs them free with quick, sure pulls, the fabric loosening around your chest. “I dreamt how you would feel against me” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw. You feel the cool air of the chamber kiss your skin as he peels the bodice down, exposing your breasts to his gaze. Your nipples harden instantly under the weight of his stare, and he doesn't hesitate, his palms cup them, thumbs circling the peaks slowly, drawing a soft moan from your throat.
“How you would cry my name” he whimpers voice rough, eyes focused on your breasts, before his mouth follows. He bends his head, lips closing around one nipple, sucking firmly while his tongue flicks over the tip. The sensation shoots straight to your core, making your thighs clench together as wetness gathers between them. His other hand works lower, shoving the skirts of your gown up your legs, bunching the material at your waist. You lift your hips instinctively, helping him as he yanks the fabric higher, until your lower body is bare to him, the gown tangled around your middle like a discarded restraint.
“Please husband” you whimper against the sensation , Maekar straightens slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you, half-undressed, pinned against the bedpost, your pussy exposed and already glistening.
“No more waiting” he says, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh, inching upward until they brush your folds. You whimper at the light touch, your body trembling with anticipation. He's gentle here, parting your lips with two fingers, stroking along your slit without entering, letting your arousal coat his skin.
Your head tips back letting out a low moan, but he doesn't stop at teasing. With a firm grip, he turns you slightly, his hands finding the ties at your back. The gown falls away completely, pooling at your feet in a whisper of silk and linen. You're naked now, standing vulnerable before him, your skin flushing under his intense gaze. He steps back just enough to shed his own clothes tunic tossed aside, breeches unlaced and kicked off, revealing the hard plains of his body, pale with small scars. Sliver hair leading in a trail down his chest and stomach to his hard cock springing free, thick and veined, the tip already leaking pre cum.
You can't tear your eyes away, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in your belly. He sees the flicker of uncertainty in your expression and cups your face, kissing you softer this time, reassuring “I'll take care of you” he promises, guiding you backward toward the bed and you nod trusting him completely.
Your legs hit the edge of the mattress, and you sink down onto it, the sheets cool against your bare arse. Maekar follows, kneeling between your spread thighs, his hands roaming your body as if committing it to memory, tracing the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, before settling on your breasts again. He kneads them slowly, pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you arch, then soothes with his mouth, licking and sucking until you're panting, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.
He shifts lower, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, nipping at the soft skin above your mound “Spread your legs wider” he instructs, voice husky, and you obey, opening yourself to him fully.
His breath fans over your pussy, warm and teasing, before his tongue darts out to taste you. He licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, circling the sensitive nub with deliberate pressure. You cry out, hips bucking, but he holds you steady with strong hands on your thighs, lapping at you steadily, sucking your clit into his mouth while his fingers tease your opening.
You arch taut like a bow, moaning at the sensation like never before “Maekar” you moan, fingers threading through his sliver locks, tugging slightly.
He slides one finger inside you then, curling it gently against your inner walls, stretching you slowly, your body unused to the intrusion but the slight burn mixes with the wet heat of his tongue, turning discomfort to bliss.
“So wet for me” he murmurs against your skin, adding a second finger, scissoring them to prepare you. You feel yourself clenching around him, the coil in your belly tightening as he pumps them in and out, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.
When you shatter, it's with a keening moan, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as you soak them with your release. He doesn't stop, licking you through it until you're trembling, oversensitive and begging, sobbing his name over and over. Only then does he rise, climbing over you laid on the bed, positioning himself at your entrance, his cock nudging your folds.
“Look at me, my love” he says sofly and you do, meeting his eyes as he pushes in. The head breaches you slowly. It hurts a little, the fullness overwhelming, but he pauses, letting you adjust, his hands stroking your sides soothingly.
“Breathe, love. You're doing so well” You nod, inhaling deeply bringing his mouth to yours as he sinks deeper, filling you completely until his hips meet yours, his cock buried to the hilt
He stills there, both of you breathing hard, lips grazing taking in the moment you have both waited for. Then he starts to move, slow thrusts, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, letting you feel every ridge and vein. His pace is unhurried, sensual, each stroke dragging against your walls, building the friction deliberately. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his back as pleasure reignites.
Maekar's mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply as he rocks into you, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. The rhythm is steady, hypnotic, your bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You feel him everywhere, his cock stretching you, his chest pressing against your breasts, his breath mingling with yours.
It builds again, slower this time, a deep ache that crests gradually. He groans your name, his control fraying as your pussy tightens around him, milking his length “Come with me ñuhor nyke jēdrar” he urges, thrusting deeper, and you do, your second orgasm crashing through you, walls pulsing as you cry out. He follows seconds later, burying himself fully and spilling inside you, hot spurts of cum filling your pussy as he mutters high Valyrian hot in your ear.
He collapses gently over you, still inside, both of you spent and sated. His lips brush your forehead, a tender contrast to the passion, as he whispers 'Mine” he says placing kiss to your forehead.