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“You've been tense all day, husband, what worries you so?” You asked Baelor with genuine concern. The day certainty took an unexpected turn–tourneys, hedge knights, missing princes, what was happening at Ashford?
“Stress is not a stranger but something feels odd here. I don't know if it's my wayward nephews, my brother, or another thing entirely,” Baelor answered with a sigh. Finally alone in the room the Lord of Ashford prepared for the two of you, the prince fell heavily into a chair. “Part of me is still wary of coming. I feel as if I should be home with father and not here for some little girl's extravagant name day.”
The clip of his tone told you all you needed to know about his stress. Seeing him pinch the bridge of his nose set your plan in stone.
Walking across the room you delicately sat upon his lap, draping yourself across him with all the grace of a practiced wife. The closeness was something you both loved. And, after many assurances over the marriage, he insisted you never squished him. Or hurt him. “Your father is in great care. As Hand you stand in for the King when the King can not, yes?” You asked with a little twinkle in your eye, grabbing his hand and kissing the back of it.
“I do,” he said, watching you like a hawk–no, like a dragon of a past time.
You smiled sweetly. The intensity of Baelor's regard might be unbearable for some, but by now you were well used to it. His attention could feel heavy–there was no doubting that–but it was the mismatch of his irises that really did the trick. Never in all your life did you see someone else with eyes like him. Despite his Dornish favored features, he was blood of the dragon after all, and they say Targaryen's are closer to Gods than men. Perhaps the odd eyes were a gift from them since he lacked any other traditional old blood features.
You did not squirm beneath his gaze. If anything, it emboldened you. “Then here is the place you should be,” you said with quiet confidence, lightly trailing your lips over the top of his hand.
“If only I felt as confident as you sound, my love. I apologize if I've been… cold to be around.”
“You're never cold towards me.”
Baelor's free hand lifted and brushed down the side of your face. Tender. Loving. A husband who adored his wife. “You please me more than you realize,” he said, voice a velvety caress.
“Then my job is only half done,” you said, teasing.
He tilted his head with a hint of a smile, a playfully dubious weight on his eyelids. “Only half?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, turning your face to his hand until your lips brushed his thumb. You kissed the pad of it, allowing your eyes to flutter closed in a show of reverence.
Baelor inhaled a little too sharp. You weren't sure he meant to, but he did and you certainly noticed.
Grinning like a cat at his reaction, you nipped the tip of his thumb. “Missing princes, hedge knights, tournament numbers… ugh,” you made a nauseated sound with a roll of your eyes. “Such a bore!”
“Speaking ill towards the royal family?” He asked, face regal and serious, as he grazed his thumb over your smooth lips. He pressed it to the edge of your mouth, holding your jaw in the span of his long fingers.
“Considering I am part of the royal family I do believe I have a teensy right to,” you quipped, turning your head to catch his thumb in your mouth. Softly, you teased your tongue along it, sucking it with a pressure so gentle he might have missed it.
He did not miss it. Your husband's pupils dilated as he truly realized what you played at. “Haughty temptress.”
You giggled. “Is it working?”
“Mayhap so.”
“Oh good! I wasn't sure if the hardening cock beneath me was lying.”
Something flashed across his features–amusement, surprise, delight–and he squinted at you in a mock glare. “The mouth on you.”
“Yes, my noble prince, the mouth on me.” Surely your plan to distract him from the recent events was working excellently because even you forgot what had him so upset. Reaching up you grabbed his wrist so he couldn't pull his hand away as you took his middle finger into your mouth.
The softest groan sounded from him–as well as another swell of his cock–and his breathing hitched noticeably. “We don't know the schedule of things around here. Someone could disturb us at any moment.”
Baelor the ever honorable prince. You loved it about him, truly, but right now you didn't care to see his honor. He fought it as well. You could hear it in the slight tremble of his voice, see the war of restraint upon his handsome features. “I don't care,” you answered, saccharine.
“The Lord of Ashford has hosted us so graciously–”
Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as you licked up his ring finger. You took it into your mouth, along with the middle, deep enough that his marriage signet brushed your lips. You sucked–dragging your lips tantalizingly along his skin.
Whatever resolve Baelor had been attempting to keep up, crumbled. He loved his fingers in your mouth. This was shortcutting any and all of his noble mannerisms and going straight to the primal part of his desire.
His mouth parted just slight, just enough for you to see lust take his reins.
“I don't care about our gracious host. Right now I only care about my husband,” you said, lightly licking the pads of his fingers, nipping them.
“You always know what I want, isn't that right? My perfect wife,” he said, silky and adoring. He pushed those two digits back into your mouth reveling in the sensation of your warm tongue, the slickness of your maw.
You gladly welcomed them in. Moaning around them, your lids fluttered heavily before closing.
Baelor moved his fingers in and out of your mouth at a lazy, deliberate pace. “Look at you being so obedient. I don't even have to tell you what to do. You simply do it and do so very well.”
The lowered tone of his voice, and the way he slowly worked your mouth, had you purring in his lap. Heat radiated out from your center. He hadn't even touched you–not truly–and already you were soaking.
“My beautiful wife... You melt when I tell you how good you are.”
You nodded, still sucking along his fingers.
“That's what I like to see. If you want more of my praise… show me how much you want it.”
Distraction successful. You couldn't remember what was even the matter.
Smirking and giddy, you kissed his soft mouth before sliding off his lap. You knelt between his open legs, looking up at him with all the devotion of a secret lover. You rubbed your face against his bulge, the fine material of his trousers smooth against your cheek.
Above you Baelor cursed beneath his breath, the powerful muscles of his legs tensing as he opened them a little wider.
Both of your hands lifted to work open the layers of his belt, trousers, and smallclothes. Pulling them down, you hummed appreciatively as he sprang free, already completely hard. “And here you were complaining about my mouth…,” you teased, palms caressing the tops of his thighs.
He watched you with hunger; fire blazed behind his eyes.
You licked up the full underside of his cock. Hot, smooth, hard as steel–he felt, and tasted, so good beneath the slide of your tongue. You kissed the tip of him, savoring him, before repeating the motion.
Baelor's head tipped back as his groin flexed. A groan so deep it could have been a growl rumbled from him when your lips wrapped fully around his cock, intense gaze locking on you.
Not wanting to tease him–or yourself–you began working him up and down. The wrap of your mouth suctioned around him, tongue dragging all along his underside as you bobbed your head.
Deeper you went, saliva beginning to pool in your mouth. Your cheeks sucked in, not letting him pop free for even a second.
“That's it my love… just like that. You're exactly what I want,” he crooned from above, voice gravely. One of his hands lowered to rest on your head. He didn't push or guide you, but simply kept its weight there–letting his desire, his lust, move into you.
You took a little more of him with each downward glide, allowing your jaw and throat to loosen. Excitement buzzed in your core. Pleasuring your husband like this made you ache with need; you could feel yourself throbbing around nothing. A thrill danced along your spine to be doing this so freely in your host's castle. Wanton, you took too much of him at once and gagged on his cock as it hit the back of your throat.
Baelor's breath hitched at the sensation, his hand squeezing into your hair. “Such a good girl. You need only look at me,” he said thickly. He pulled your head off him in time with you pulling away for a breath, your eyes locked together.
You gasped, catching your breath. Regardless, a smile dazzled your face as you took hold of his cock, easily pumping all along it with the aid of your saliva.
Another sound broke free from your husband and it spurred you on further.
While still pumping him, you dipped your head and leaned forward, licking over his stones.
An unintelligible word mumbled beneath Baelor's breath. Something–you're quite sure–you’ve heard Maekar say in ire.
This, however, was not ire. You licked over them again, relishing the way his body reacted to it. Carefully, you sucked on one, then the other.
“Seven hells, woman,” Baelor moaned.
You did it again. Licking, sucking, rubbing your lips all over his stones. All while stroking along his cock. The feel of him, scent, taste, you were more than enjoying yourself. Still you ached between your thighs. Your cunny clenched around nothing and you were positive there'd be a damp spot upon your smallclothes despite you not even touching yourself.
Leaning back up, you took his length into your mouth once more. Lips, tongue, you bobbed slowly and wetly.
Baelor held your face with both hands. Again, he didn't force you to take him deeper, wasn't rough with you in any way, he simply held your face. “You are incredible,” he said, voice husky. His thumbs slid over your cheeks, pushing any stray strands of hair away, and teased over your spread lips.
You purred.
“I'm close,” he whispered, labored.
You nodded, smirking as well as you could around him. You knew he was, you could feel it in the way he somehow grew impossibly harder, in the way he began to twitch just slight, just enough to let you know your pleasure was threatening to consume him. You kept up exactly what you were doing–not changing up the pace or anything else. With his eyes on you like that, his hands on you, his breath and sounds directly affected because of you, no, you wouldn’t change anything. You kept it up.
Just.
Like.
That.
Baelor's head tipped back as his body tensed. His orgasm unleashed with a groan of ecstasy and wild twitches of his cock. He unloaded directly in your throat, your mouth never leaving him.
The salt of his body flooded your senses and you finally pulled away with a wet pop. Spend and saliva covered your lips, perhaps even a little on your chin, and you wiped it away breathlessly.
After your husband caught his breath the fire of his regard had those low muscles in your belly tightening. The base of your spine tingling.
In one motion he tucked himself away and stood, lifting you up as he stepped forward.
“You are radiant. Perfect. My sweet wife, my best girl,” he said against your lips, kissing you as he backed you up to the table. He sat you on it and immediately bunched your skirts up. He held the front of your smallclothes open while the fingers of the other plunged into you–those two digits instantly soaked.
You moaned. Gasped. You barely had time to register being on the table and now his fingers were fucking into you like he was furious at you. White hot beautiful pleasure burned through your entire body. You choked out a curse, already dizzy on bliss.
“That's it, my love. Come on my hand. I'm not stopping until you do,” he said against your ear, nipping it.
The sounds of his hand, his fingers, was obscene. You were so fucking wet. Heat bloomed beneath your face with ardor and embarrassment.
He nipped at your neck, the taste of your skin spurring him to bite it. Hard.
His teeth on you was the final thing you needed. You cried out as the tension in your belly snapped. Climax found you quick and all consuming. You rode it out on his hand, rolling your hips in time with his pace. Gasping, whimpering.
Just then a knock rapped on the door. “Prince Baelor?” A man's voice called.
You jumped at the suddenness of it. Baelor held a finger to his mouth, smirking. With a hand behind your head he pulled you into him, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. When he said, “what is it?” You were amazed at how cool his voice sounded. His fingers were still in you, still working your sensitive walls. You bit your lip, breathing the last waves of your pleasure into his neck.
“Your brother is summoning you. Said it was important.”
“I will be out in a moment,” Baelor answered.
When no reply came it was safe to assume the man left with his message.
Pulling back, Baelor kissed you deeply. “I'm sorry that I must go now,” he said, sincere. “Thank you, my love. You truly are incredible.” He kissed you again and carefully removed his fingers from you. “We will pick this up later?”
"Oh certainly, husband. You owe me one.” You winked.
“Or two,” he said, grinning.
After one more kiss you untangled from each other. He walked over to the the basin to wipe his hands clean while you straightened your dress. He held the door open for you and followed you out. You weren't sure what Maekar wanted with Baelor, but you knew you could busy yourself with wandering the merchant tents until supper–a big happy smile on your face.