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Ser Dunk the Tall had his hand wrapped around his cock when he heard some rustling behind him in the bushes.
Not giving himself time to cover up, the hedge knight reached for the sword leaning against the tree next to him, wrapping his hand around the sword hilt and unsheathing it in one go. He whirled around, his sword pointed at the bushes, locking himself in the defensive stance that Ser Arlan of Pennytree had taught him years ago. He gritted his teeth, hoping he looked as intimidating as he could be with his cock out.
As if he was shoved out into the open, a white-haired figure stumbled out of the bushes, closely followed by a familiar face, one framed by salt-and-pepper curls and accented by an almost perpetually manic expression in his eyes.
“Put down that sword, man, you’ll take someone’s eye out!” Lord Lyonel Baratheon of Storm’s End chastised him as he forcefully grabbed the white-haired man’s arm. “You should thank me, Dunkie, I found this one skulking around in the shadows.” He shoved the other man forward again, and Dunk recognised him as one of the Targaryen princes, the one he had encountered in the compound earlier that day.
“I’ll cut your hand off for that, you miserable old cunt!” Prince Aerion Targaryen hissed at the Baratheon man like a stray cat, the latter simply chuckling and looking to the hedge knight conspiratorially, whose snark-laced reply died in his throat as he belatedly took in Dunk’s appearance.
Dunk only realised his current state of undress about half a second after Lyonel Baratheon did, lowering his sword down as nonchalantly as he could in front of his still-erect manhood to cover it up, but he knew he was too late. He was armed and pantsless in the most compromising position in front of a lord and a princeling. Nothing in the seven kingdoms could be as humiliating as this.
“Bold claims from a pervert caught red-handed, but I’ll get back to you in a second, sweetheart,” Lyonel Baratheon stepped away from the scowling prince, his eyes glinting with amusement. To the knight, he said, “You and I both know I saw what I saw. Don’t be shy, show me.”
The tall man had come to respect the man before him, even if he was a little terrified of his eccentricity, and he’d like to believe that Lyonel Baratheon had grown fond of him since the night they first met, developing some sort of friendly rapport. However, as someone of a considerably lower social status, he still felt inclined to bow his head and go along with everything the older man asked of him, something to do with his innate need to please. He had his cock out a minute ago anyway, what difference does it make at this point? So, he set his sword by the tree, and straightened up, face carefully crafted not to show embarrassment.
This was difficult to do, since the lord’s reaction was to tilt his head to one side in puzzlement. He nudged the Targaryen, urging him to look. Oh gods, did they see some sort of defect on his manhood, something he would not have known to look for due to his lack of education and access to the maesters?
“It’s…” Aerion faltered. “It’s small.”
“But it’s not,” Lyonel frowned. “Right?”
His ears burning with embarrassment, Dunk bent down to pull his pants up. His cock wasn’t actually small, he knew that, but it appeared comically minuscule compared to the rest of him. His height, combined with his big fucking head and shoulders and whatever else that was of above-average size, all contributed to the optical illusion of his actually-slightly-under-average penis. It was fat, girthy, and a little shorter than five inches, nestled in a tuft of brown hair; it was just a shame that a perfectly normal-looking cock belonged to someone who often stood out in a crowd and towered over everyone.
“Did I say you could get dressed?” The lord spoke, his tone sharp and testy.
Dunk straightened up, shaking his head uncertainly. “N-No, my lord.”
“What do the whores you’ve lain with say about your cock, Dunkie?” Lyonel asked, and Dunk realised that he was asking out of genuine curiosity.
“Nothing,” He replied. “Never lain with one.”
Next to the Baratheon, Aerion scoffed in disbelief, clearly unimpressed. “Alright, what of the men?” Lyonel pressed on.
“Never lain with one either.”
Lord Lyonel Baratheon blinked rapidly in confusion, as if he were trying to comprehend the concept of inexperience. Dunk could not blame him; it must have been decades since his first time. The knight had sexual urges, of course he did, as evidenced by what he was doing prior to the intrusion, but he had always been an awkward young lad growing up with no skill for conversations, never making it far beyond pleasantries with a woman during his travels with Ser Arlan, who merely laughed obnoxiously when Dunk showed interest in anyone, deeming them all ‘out of his league’.
To his surprise, Dunk saw a hungry glint in Lyonel’s eyes, similar to when he came up with some dizzyingly mad idea, or when he looked at someone he wanted to fuck later in the night. Dunk came to the stunning conclusion that he might be that someone, and what shocked him more than that was that he wanted to be that someone, that mad idea. It was no secret that Lyonel Baratheon was as handsome as he was eccentric, and he had heard rumours of his sexual prowess. His cock twitched at the thought of using something other than his hands for once. “You poor thing, I can’t imagine not knowing the pleasures of the flesh. I can help with that.”
“D-Does he have to be here for this?” Dunk pointed out, his gaze landing uncertainly on the Targaryen prince, who had been silently scowling at the lord for manhandling him earlier.
“He likes to watch, doesn’t he?” Lyonel let out a barking laugh at Aerion’s glare, winking conspiratorially at the hedge knight. “I say we let him. Now take off your clothes.”
This was not how he imagined his first time would be, having several qualms about the situation he found himself in. His biggest qualm being that he thought he would be on the giving end, given his height; he practically towered over either man, surely he was the obvious choice?
Instead, he was fully naked, his hands clinging onto the wooden bark of a tree as he shook with pleasure. Behind him, a lord knelt with his face pressed into Dunk’s spread-apart ass-cheeks, his tongue expertly working his magic on the knight’s puckered hole. Out of the corner of his eye, Dunk could see a prince stroking his cock at the sight before him. He imagined Ser Arlan rolling in his grave if he knew the two most out-of-his-league people in all of Westeros would be in the throes of passion with the inexperienced hedge knight.
Understandably, it all felt unfamiliar to him, having someone enthusiastically tonguing his hole while another watched, and it was exciting nevertheless, Dunk’s cock erect and leaking already. The Baratheon lord’s beard was scratchy against his skin, yet he liked the feeling of it. He had moved to wrap his hand around his cock, but Lyonel would not let him, opting to slide a finger inside of him instead. Dunk let out a loud moan at the intrusion, moaning again as Lyonel brushed against a spot within him that sent sparks fizzling throughout his body. The lord added another finger into him with ease upon Dunk’s clear pleasure, and he felt the man press an unexpectedly intimate kiss against the curve of his ass. How had he lived this long without experiencing such bliss?
Dunk turned his attention to the Targaryen princeling, who met his gaze and smirked. Against his better judgment, he blushed under the prince’s gaze, aware of how silly he must look to him; he was literally a giant writhing mess, a bundle of inexperience. He understood why Lyonel was enjoying himself, considering how he liked to hunt big game and figured finger-fucking Ser Dunk the Tall provided a similar feeling akin to taking down a wild boar in the woods. But what could Prince Aerion Targaryen, blood of the dragons, want with him? In fact, what was he doing here in the first place?
Dunk had no time to get lost in his thoughts as he felt a sharp, stinging smack on his ass, followed by the loss of Lord Baratheon’s fingers inside him. He whined involuntarily, resulting in a chuckle from the lord and another slap to his round ass-cheeks. “Needy little slut, aren’t ya, Dunkie? Relax, I saw you looking at our dragon prince over there. I was just wondering if he would like to join in!”
Join in? Dunk whirled his head to glance incredulously at the Baratheon, who scoffed at his puzzled expression. “You can’t seriously expect him to just stand there stroking his cock all night, do you?” Well, yes, actually.
Prior to the duo barging in on him as he was stroking his cock, Ser Dunk the Tall was happily carving out an imaginary scenario of bending the Targaryen prince over, his cock buried inside the white-haired man. Their first encounter earlier that day had left quite a lasting impression on the hedge knight, and he had not considered that his imagination could come true at any point in his lifetime, let alone that very night. He wasn’t even sure if the prince wanted to join in; he gathered that Aerion Targaryen was quirky in a way that deemed him a voyeur rather than an active participant, where dalliances with a knight fathoms beneath him were too rich for his blood. Or, well, too poor. Whichever sounded better in the context of a prince and a nobody like Dunk. He figured he had some sick perversion of watching the poor in acts of depravity, and that was all there was to it.
Of course, Dunk grew flustered as Prince Aerion shrugged, letting go of his cock to tug his pants off. Lyonel Baratheon let out an enthusiastic cheer, tapping the knight’s lower back to signal a change in position. Dunk had no idea what position was expected of him, so he straightened up and looked blankly at the curly-haired man. There were three people in this now, how was that supposed to work?
Prince Aerion, seemingly understanding of Dunk’s confusion, spoke up. “You know what a spitroast looks like, yes?” Dunk nodded, the answer dawning on him after a moment. He was the fucking pig.
Thanks to such an illustrative explanation, Dunk got down on his hands and knees while Lyonel Baratheon moved behind him. The prince knelt in front of him, pushing the knight’s sweat-slick hair out of his face. At this proximity, Dunk could see the dragon prince’s cock clearly, taking note of the way it curved to the left; it was pretty, he thought to himself. He watched as Aerion wrapped his hand around his cock, inching closer to the tall knight’s face before slapping it lightly against his cheek. “Tongue,” was all he said, and Dunk obliged, sticking his tongue out as he peered up at the princeling. He tapped his cock against Dunk’s eager tongue, the latter tasting salt in his mouth from the pre-cum that was leaking from the slit.
He pushed his cock into the knight’s mouth then, filling it as best as he could. Ser Arlan had mentioned once that Dunk’s mouth was made for a big eater, so this wasn’t much of a big deal to him. The problem was when the prince started moving into his mouth and how the head of his cock pressed against the back of his throat with each thrust. Ser Dunk the Tall gagged and choked with each movement, unsure if he was supposed to. He felt his aching cock twitch at the strangled sounds he was making, how a little bit of drool had dribbled out as the cock slid in and out of his mouth. He felt embarrassed by how messy he was, how sweaty and red he must be at this point. The prince had a perfect view of such debauchery, and this knowledge stirred heat within the hedge knight, like a pot of water close to boiling.
“Fuck,” Aerion groaned, his fingers weaving into the knight’s hair, tugging slightly. “Oh, fuck yes,” Huh, he must be doing something right if that was the prince’s reaction.
“I think the prince likes you, hedge knight!” A voice laced with amusement called out from behind him. Dunk was so eager to please the prince that he had forgotten about the lord who had his fingers inside of him a few minutes ago. His cock twitched again, aching to know what he was going to do to him.
“He’s got such a pretty mouth, what’s not to like?” Prince Aerion remarked between thrusts. “So eager, too, it’s like he was born for this.”
“Born to be a hole, that’s for sure,” Lyonel replied, just as Dunk felt something pressing against the entrance of his spit-soaked hole. “A true knight that serves his kingdom.” He continued, his cock sliding inside with ease.
Dunk cried out, his surprise muffled by the cock in his mouth. It was too much, it was all too much for him at this point. His large body felt boneless, powerless as he rocked back and forth with each of Lyonel’s thrusts into him, mirroring the prince’s. “Gods, fucking him is like fucking a horse, the sheer size of him!”
“And yet he’s taking cock so well,” Aerion said aloud. “Who knew someone so big could be such a perfect little hole? Look at him, all he wants is to be used!”
He felt lightheaded with pleasure, his sense of self disintegrating. He was eager to please the two of them, but he could feel himself getting closer to the edge. He wasn’t usually this quick, but between the two of them having their way with him and the things they were saying about him, Ser Dunk the Tall never stood a chance.
His whole body shook as he came, hot spurts of cum spilling onto the grass beneath him as his satisfied moans were muffled by Aerion’s cock. Behind him, Lyonel Baratheon whooped, and he could imagine the giddily triumphant look on his handsome face even without seeing him. “Eager little whore knight,” He could hear the grin in his voice as he brought a hand down on his ass, his skin stinging from it. “You like that, don’t you?”
He was done, he wanted to say aloud, but he couldn’t. He thought that his quick release would have deterred the men, prompting them to go easy on him, but it spurred them on instead. Lyonel continued to pound into him, the skin-on-skin contact creating obscene noises that matched his grunts. Dunk’s limbs wobbled unsteadily as he realised he was still hard despite the prior ejaculation; it was aching at this point, and he was pretty sure he was going to cum untouched again if Lyonel kept thrusting into him that way.
Meanwhile, Prince Aerion readjusted his position, straightening up slightly to better bury his cock in Dunk’s mouth and throat, his pace quickening as the fingers in his hair tugged him upwards to look at him. Their eyes met then, and the prince pulled out with an obscenely wet plopping sound. Dunk was granted a moment of reprieve for him to suck in the air he desperately needed, but this did not last long. The prince stroked his cock quickly, quick breaths falling from his pretty lips just before his cum painted Ser Dunk’s face.
It happened so quickly, and without warning, that Dunk was taken aback, the warmth on his face nearly sent him reeling over the edge again, but he barely had time to register that before Lyonel quickened his pace, his thrusts shallow and ramming that specific spot inside him with each movement. He was close to cumming untouched again, and Lyonel was almost there, he could tell-
Dunk’s second orgasm lasted shorter than the previous one, but his whole body writhed with pleasure regardless, and he could feel himself clench around Lyonel’s cock, which actually did send him tumbling over the edge, his cum shooting inside of Dunk in hot spurts as he fucked it into him.
The knight practically fell forward into the prince’s lap in exhaustion; he barely even noticed Lyonel pulling out from inside him. “That was fun,” He heard the lord say. “Same time next week?” He could hear the man chuckle to himself at his joke and the sounds of him getting dressed.
Dunk was simply too exhausted to move, and he swore he actually drifted off for a moment before startling awake.
Lyonel Baratheon had disappeared into the night by then, leaving him with the dragon prince, who had his big, sturdy head on his lap. Dunk was embarrassed at how he practically melted after all of that, treating Aerion like a pillow for him to rest his head upon. His face felt sticky from the prince’s load, and he swore the lord’s load had been steadily dribbling out of him too. He was devising a way to get out of this strangely intimate position with the Targaryen prince when he felt the latter stroke his sweaty hair.
“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dunk hesitantly spoke up.
“Your Grace, you mean.”
Dunk’s ears burned at such a careless mistake. He was not used to conversing with those so far out of his league, and the prince was the furthest of them all. “O-Of course, my apologies, Your Grace.” He took a steadying deep breath before continuing, “Were you really watching me earlier?”
“Yes.”
The knight was taken aback by such a casual confession of his voyeurism. “Why?”
“I was looking for you, and I found you,” He said simply. “It’s not my fault I had bad timing.”
“And why…” Dunk swallowed thickly. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Why not?”
Dunk wasn’t sure what to make of that response, so he fell silent, no more inquiries falling from his lips.
“You can stay like this for a few more minutes,” Prince Aerion murmured, surprisingly kind for someone of his reputation. “But we should really get you cleaned up, knight.”