on the last day of january, would the lady be willing to write to her readers a piece of smut that's enough to leave us all wanting more?
"talk to him." aemond presses the phone to her ear and ysilla jolts to catch it. she can barely breathe, let alone speak full sentences, but knowing who's on the other line has her breathily stuttering out at least one word.
"hi princess." the slippery growl of cregan's voice slithers through the phone and dives directly between her legs.
"hi baby." she whines and whimpers, each push of aemond inside of her enough to have her brain fizzing out.
her northman laughs, a heavy sound, and she shivers.
"is boyfriend takin' good care of that pussy?"
"yesss." ysilla hisses out, her eyes rolled all the way back in ecstasy.
aemond's slap against her ass has her moaning probably a little too loud into the phone. he rubs the sting away while kissing her neck, his tongue snaking out for a taste of his girl, and ysilla can't help but steal away his lips for just a second or two.
when they separate, she purrs into her awaiting boyfriend's ear. "he always does."
"mmm, i know. wish i was there to take care of you too."
"she's wearin' one of your jerseys." aemond mumbles but loud enough for him to hear, mouth busy with unwinding ysilla's day nerve by nerve, lick by lick.
cregan curses. "bastards. least you could fucken do is facetime me, fuck's sake."
there's rustling over the other end of the line, fabric being shucked around, the pump of a lotion bottle, and a quiet hiss escaping from between clenched teeth.
ysilla burrows her face into the cushion, gasping wetly into the chenille. "oh fuck."
it's like she's right there next to him as he pulls his briefs down and lets his dick swing free. she can nearly see it springboard off of his abs, brushing at the golden hair trailing down beneath his navel. the wet schlick of skin over skin and cregan's whispered 'fuck me' right into her ear as aemond breaks her apart is overwhelmingly erotic, and her toes curl so tightly her legs start to cramp.
aemond plucks the phone out of her hand and ysilla is grateful for it. shit was about to bounce off the hardwood if he'd given her a few more seconds.
"quit your bitchin'." aemond bites back, tapping at the screen before leaning towards the other end of the couch, and propping it up against the armrest. and then, there he is- the grainy visual of cregan through the screen a poor substitute to the real thing. but he's here none the less, and ysilla gleams as she's faced with the other half of her heart.
"creg." she whines out while aemond pulls her on and off of his cock, the smaller image of them reflected back in the lower left of the screen.
the toothy white of his grin is a twin color to the pearl of precum bubbling out of his dick. "hi baby."
ysilla unwinds aemond's hand from where it grips her hip until she can slot their fingers together. he rubs his thumb over her knuckles slowly, sweetly.
"want you home." she tugs at the collar of his rugby jersey. "smells like you… s'not enough."
"i'll make it up to you, that's a promise. you hear me?"
a bud of precum breaks free from the head of his cock, and it trails thickly down his shaft. it follows the vein that bulges along the underside of him, the one she likes to trace with her tongue. it's like it's mocking her. she licks her lips and nods.
cregan tsks. "use your words, silla."
aemond chuckles and ysilla kisses goodbye any plans she had for the rest of the night. they're nothing if not a little competitive, and her calling cregan daddy while aemond is the one actually fucking her dumb is going to have him going until she's screaming.
cregan grins, settling back against the headboard. "good. now, put on a show for me, you two."
