Ok ok ok but touch starved dunk getting patched up by the pretty (chubby [optional ofc]) maiden that he's had his eye on for a while certain she's way out of his league/she's too good for him she is cleaning him up gently scolding him standing between his thick ass thighs trying not to stare too much at any part of her - her face or breasts mostly. And as a thanks fingering her with his thick af fingers seeing how much she can take
your little erotic confession haunted me for the past 24 hours so... it had to be done. i need to pour some water on myself after finishing this. enjoy. yer welcome ❤️🔥 xx
i’ll make a mess of you
♡ ser duncan the tall x female reader ♡
smut, touch starved!dunk, devotion kink, size difference, dirty talk, fingering, cunilingus, masturbation
word count: 5.7k
dunk sat on the edge of the low stool, his knees spread wide to make room for you. even sitting, his head was nearly level with yours. he felt a bit like a clumsy titan, his skin buzzing everywhere your small hands touched him.
you were standing right there, tucked into the notch of his thick thighs, the curve of your hips brushing against his breeches every time you leaned in.
“hold still, ser," you scolded softly, your voice like honey. you dabbed a damp cloth against the wound on his ribs, your focus entirely on the task. the water stung, but he barely registered it over the thunder of his own heartbeat in his ears. he could feel the warmth radiating from your body, a gentle contrast to the cold, hard muscle of his own.
“m’sorry, m’lady,” he mumbled, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue. he forced himself not to flinch as you cleaned another wound. he was afraid to move, afraid he might break you.
he could see the gentle swell of your belly pressing against the fabric of your dress as you worked, the way your breasts strained the neckline when you leaned forward. he swallowed hard, his throat suddenly as dry as the dornish sands.
you finished with the last of the visible wounds on his chest and torso.
the scent of lavender and herbs rose from the bowl of water, mingling with the coppery smell of his blood. you moved to clean a deeper cut on his bicep and your breasts brushed against his shoulder. he went rigid, a gasp catching in his chest.
your touch was warm, and you were so close. he could feel the heat of your breath on his neck. you were a miracle to him, and he was just... dunk. a big, clumsy knight, now covered in scars and sins.
you tsked, your brow furrowed in concentration. "you must learn to parry more than you bleed, ser duncan. look at you."
he couldn't speak. your words, tender yet firm, rendered him speechless. you were admonishing him, but it sounded like concern. you cared. the thought was overwhelming, that it almost stole the air from his lungs. he just stared, his mouth slightly agape, watching your hands move over his skin.
he wanted to pull you into his lap, to feel your softness pressed against him, to bury his face in the fragrant warmth of your hair and never let go. but he didn't. he just sat there, stock-still and let you patch him up, a silent, yearning giant under your hands.
he was deliberately trying. to not look. at you.
a smile touched your lips. "what is it, ser?" you asked, your voice a low murmur as you rinsed the cloth. "is my tending truly so terrible?"
he flinched at that, his eyes snapping to yours. they were wide with a kind of panicked devotion.
"no! gods, no. it's… it’s not that, m’lady." he looked away again, his gaze falling to the floorboards. "it's just… you shouldn't be doin' this. not for me."
"and why is that?" you pressed, setting the cloth aside. you placed your clean hands on your hips, a motion that pushed your breasts forward, and you didn't miss the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard.
“because you’re… you.” he said, the words coming out in a scraping whisper. “you’re good. and kind. and i’m just… dunk. a hedge knight with naught but a sword and the scars to prove it. i’m not worthy of this. of your hands on me.”
the honesty in his voice made your chest ache. you leaned, your belly pressed against the hard, ridged muscle of his abdomen. the contrast made you shiver.
"i decide who is worthy of my kindness, ser duncan. and i choose you."
his eyes dropped from your face. they couldn't help it. they dragged down, over the swell of your breasts, the generous curve of your stomach, the width of your hips.
he devoured you with a glance, a feast of forbidden longing. then suddenly he looked away, a flush creeping up his neck, burning red against his skin.
"i… i apologize, m’lady," he stammered, his massive hands clenching into fists on his thighs. "i shouldn't… i have no right."
you didn't pull back. instead, you leaned in even closer, your breasts now touching his chest.
your fingers traced the rugged line of his jaw,. that scratch of his stubble was delicious on your sensitive skin. you loved the raw texture, the masculine feel of it. heat bloomed in your cheeks, heat you couldn't hide as you committed the sensation to memory.
ser duncan surrendered to your touch, letting his head fall back, exposing his neck. his eyes slipped closed. he was breathing heavily now, each exhale a sigh of relief. you felt a pang of something fierce and protective in your chest. this great, powerful warrior was starved for this, for simple, human contact. your touch was a balm he hadn't even known he was craving.
emboldened by his response, you leaned further, meaning to murmur something reassuring. as your body shifted, your hips brushed against the apex of his thighs, and that was when you felt it. the hard, thick ridge of his arousal, straining against the leather of his breeches.
he went utterly still. the easy surrender vanished, replaced by taut tension. he froze, every muscle in his massive body locking up as if he'd been struck.
he tried to pull back, to create distance, but you were standing flush against him, trapped between the solid wall of his torso and the powerful cage of his thighs.
"i… m'lady, i…" he stammered, his big eyes flying open, wide with horror. he looked like a cornered beast, terrified of his own desire. "gods forgive me, i… i'm so sorry."
he was apologizing. for wanting you. a hot, fierce anger surged through you, aimed not at him, but at the world that had taught this good, gentle man that his desire was something to be ashamed of. you didn't move away. instead, you pressed closer, a slow roll of your hips that ground your soft belly against the hard feel of his cock.
he let out a strangled moan, his head lolling back against the wall, his eyes squeezing shut again.
you could feel the tremor that ran through him, the effort it took not to buck up into you, not to grab your hips and hold you there.
"don't apologize,ser” you breathed, the words a puff of air against his throat. you trailed your fingers down the side of his neck, feeling the frantic flutter of his pulse beneath your touch. "don't you dare apologize for this."
you leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "do you have any idea how good you feel?" you whispered.
his only response was a sound that was half agony, half ecstasy. his huge hands, which had been clenched into white-knuckled fists on his thighs, slowly uncurled. they hovered for a moment, uncertain, before one of them came to rest on the curve of your hip. his palm was enormous, calloused and warm, covering the entire swell of your hip with room to spare.
a tremor of want settled between your legs. the callouses on his palm were rough against the soft fabric of your dress. he held you like you were something precious, something fragile, and yet you could feel the barely restrained power in that single touch.
"your wounds are clean, ser," you said, your voice barely a whisper.
you started to pull back, to step out of the cage of his thighs, to put some distance between you before this fire consumed you both.
you’d barely moved an inch before that huge hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into your soft flesh. his other hand shot out, wrapping around your other hip, pulling you back. you stumbled forward, almost shocked at the realisation, landing hard against him, your belly slapping against his stomach.
“ser duncan!—”
you were now fully on him, straddling one of his massive thighs, the hard muscle pressing directly against the heat between your legs.
you sighed, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. he didn't let go. he held you there, his grip firm but not bruising, and finally, finally, he looked at you. really looked at you.
"don't go," he breathed. “please.”
his hands began to move, reverently, over the curves of your hips.
they roamed upwards, his palms tracing the swell of your waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. you trembled, a shiver racing down your spine. he was touching you with a kind of worshipful awe, as if he couldn't believe you were real.
"i have to thank you," he said, his voice that gravelly murmur that vibrated through your entire body. "for… for this. for your kindness." then one of his hands cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. he guided you closer. the hard ridge of his big cock was now a hot, insistent pressure against you, and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips.
"let me thank you, m’lady. let me thank you properly."
“ser duncan, i… mm—”
without waiting for an answer, he leaned in and captured your mouth with his. his lips were chapped but they were sweet and almost hesitant. he tasted of something uniquely, earthily him. you responded immediately, your lips parting, your hands sliding up from his shoulders to bury themselves in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck.
as the kiss deepened and grew more confident, more demanding, it became clear that it is the kiss of a man who had been starved for affection for a lifetime. you could feel sll that tension in him, the tightly leashed control he was exercising. you wanted him to let go. you wanted to feel the full force of that desperate want.
his hand left your hip, trailing up your side in a slow path. his fingers were so wide they spanned your ribcage. you arched into his touch, a silent beg for more.
your breasts were spilling out of the cradle of his huge hands, the soft flesh overflowing his palms. he squeezed gently, a testing pressure, and another choked moan escaped your throat.
he broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.
then, with a slowness that was almost torturous, he began to undress you. his fingers moved with a surprising dexterity as he found the laces of your gown. he fumbled for a moment, a blush creeping up his neck, and you couldn't help but smile at the endearing sight of this massive, intimidating warrior undone by a simple set of laces.
then he got them loose. he pulled the dress over your head, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet room. the cool air hit your skin, raising goosebumps. you were left in your thin linen chemise, the fabric nearly transparent in the candlelight. he just stared, his blue eyes wide, drinking in the sight of you.
he looked at your heavy breasts, the dark peaks of your nipples clearly visible through the thin linen. he looked at the soft curve of your belly, the generous swell of your hips.
"oh, gods," he breathed, the words a reverent whisper. "you're… you're perfect, m’lady.."
he pulled you close again, his arm wrapping around your waist, grinding you down against his cock. it was so slow it made your head spin.
then he found the hem of your chemise. he hesitated for a moment, his fingers twitching. slowly, inch by inch, he pulled it up. he exposed the soft skin of your stomach, the flare of your hips, the area between your legs. he kept pulling, until the chemise was bunched up under your arms, your breasts spilling out, completely bare to his gaze.
he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
"tell me," he rasped, his voice a low growl. "tell me how i can properly thank you. how do i make an offering to the gods that they will accept? what must i do to worship at your altar?"
you leaned into the circle of his arms, your body pliant and wanting. you took one of his huge hands in yours, marveling at the size and weight of it. your fingers looked impossibly small against his broad palm and thick digits.
you were so lost in him, that the words spilled out of your mouth without proper thinking.
"with your fingers, ser," you breathed, guiding his hand down, down the curve of your belly, over the swell of your hips. "an offering of yourself."
he looked confused for a moment, his brow furrowed, a clear "thick in the head" expression on his face. but then understanding dawned, and a flush of heat washed over him. his blue eyes darkened to the color of the sea amid storm.
"you want a dog like me to touch you there?" he choked out, his thumb dragging roughly over your hip bone. "i'm just a hedge knight, m'lady... i'll make a mess of you. i'll get you all ruined with these rough hands."
you slowly guided his hand to the apex of your thighs, to the slick, swollen folds hidden there. the moment his calloused fingertips made contact with your delicate skin, a jolt went through you that settled deep in your womb.
he took aside your smallclothes in one smooth movement.
your cunt was a filthy mess of slick, engorged flesh, a testament to how badly you wanted to be ruined. your labia were puffy, glistening with a heavy coat of juice. a thick trickle of wetness escaped from your entrance, dragging a hot line down the inside of your thighs. you were a slippery, aching void, desperate to be filled until you couldn't move.
his fingers stilled for a moment as he processed the sensation. the sand-paper texture of his skin against your soaking folds was intoxicating.
"gods," he rasped, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "you're gushing... you're so fuckin' wet, my lady... mmm..."
he began to move, his fingers exploring your heat with a curious touch. he found your clit, a hard, pulsing nub peeking out from its hood. he circled it slowly, the pad of his thumb delicious, bruising against the sensitive bundle of nerves. you felt the scrape of his callouses—the jagged skin of a man who killed for a living—grinding against your clit, sending a sharp hum through your entire pelvis.
"ahhh, ser duncan! nnh... fuck, right there," you moaned, your head falling back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you bucked your hips against his palm. "grind it... ah! don't stop... please."
he silenced you with another kiss, this one sloppy and desperate, your tongues tangling and thrusting in a mimicry of what you both truly wanted. he devoured your moans, his own need a palpable thing, like a heavy weight in the air between you.
“you’re so small," he rasped, his eyes fixed on your face as he began to part you. "so soft and f-fuckin' wet for me."
he didn't just touch you; he occupied you. when he pushed the first of those heavy, knight-calloused fingers inside, the sensation was a violent shock. a blunt, stretching fullness that made your breath hitch and your toes curl. you felt your skin straining, your tight entrance forced to widen to accommodate the sheer, thick breadth of him.
it wasn't a smooth slide; it was a heavy, insistent invasion that claimed every inch of your inner walls, scraping against you with a texture that made your stomach flip.
he was so much larger than any man you’d known, his girth stretching you taut. he watched with a raw, focused intensity as his thick finger disappeared into your pouting heat, his thumb finding the hard little bead of your clitoris to pin it against your pubic bone.
"can you take it?" he groaned, his other hand moving to cup the heavy weight of your breast, his thumb crushing your nipple. "mmh... tell me if i'm too much. tell me if a dog's hands are too rough for such a pretty thing... 'cause i can't stop. "
"no... fuck me with them," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you felt the coarse drag of his skin scraping against your sensitive inner tissues. "i want to feel... ah! i want to feel how big you are... stretch me wide, ser duncan.."
the steady pressure of that thick finger as it explored, in and out, was a sweet agony. your hips bucked of their own accord, seeking more of that stretching friction, that full, bruising feeling.
“more,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard, knotted muscle of his bicep. “ser, please… nnh... fill me up…”
he complied, a low grunt of satisfaction vibrating in his chest. he added another thick finger alongside the first. the stretch was exquisite, a sharp, sweet ache that made your vision blur. your wetness gushed around his knuckles, coating them in a glossy sheen. the sound was obscene; a wet, suctioning squelch as he forced himself deeper, his broad knuckles bruising your delicate folds. you felt your body yield, the internal pressure building until you felt like you were going to break open under his hand.
but he only pushed in to the first knuckle, the breadth of the two fingers demanding your total, agonizing attention. they were so thick they barely fit, a blunt, insistent pressure against your entrance that made you feel wonderfully, obscenely stretched.
"s-ser... ah! you're so... so thick," you whined, your breath coming in short, frantic pants. "i can feel... nhhh... every scar on your hand... oh, gods... give me more of it!"
"so much," he groaned, the words torn from his throat. "gods above… you're so tight, so hot... i can feel you squeezin' me, m’lady.. tryin' to swallow me whole?"
dunk was mesmerized, his own arousal a heavy throb in the air, his breath coming in ragged pants. he was so turned on just from touching you, from watching your slick, pink flesh swallow his fingers, that a low, continuous moan rumbled in his chest. the palm of his other hand was adding pressure, making you squirm and whine.
he looked up at you, his eyes dark with a desperate, starving need. "can you take more, m'lady?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. " can you take all of me? tell me you want this dog to stretch you wide... tell me... ah! tell me you want to be ruined by my hands."
"yes! ruin me… please... stretch me... i want to feel you everywhere... fuck... please!"
you rocked your hips against his hand. you wanted more. you needed more.
he pushed in deeper, to the second knuckle, and the sensation was overwhelming. a sharp, sweet ache radiated through you, a feeling of being stretched to your absolute limit. it felt like you were being split, your tight, pulsing walls forced to accommodate the blunt, thick intrusion of a man who was far too big for you.
you could feel every single ridge of callous, every line on his skin as it dragged against your sensitive inner walls, that raw friction that made your stomach twist with a filthy kind of pleasure. your slick folds clung to him, coating him in your arousal.
he watched, mesmerized, as your cunt sucked his fingers in, as your body yielded to him. "gods," he breathed, the word a reverent whisper. "you're taking it. you're taking all of it. i didn't think... nnh... you're so fuckin' tight, m'lady... am i hurtin' you?"
he started praising you, his words a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down your spine.
"that's it, m'lady," he groaned, "so beautiful when you're full. so tight and wet for me."
he began to fuck you faster, his fingers pumping in and out of your slick heat, the sloppy, wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. each thrust was a heavy, wet thud. the sound of a man who didn't know his own strength, his knuckles bruising your pussy as he hammered into you.
your heavy breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, the soft flesh jiggling in his face. you could see the hunger in his big blue eyes as he watched, fascinated.
his face was flushed, his jaw hanging open like a beast. he was watching your cunt swallow his fingers, watching the way your slick flesh clung to him, the way you made a mess of his hand, of his breeches. you were spread wide open on his thick thighs, your body on display, and he was devouring every single second of it.
"need to see all of you," he rasped, the words a raw, needy sound like he was a man who couldn't believe his luck.
he slowly, torturously, pulled his fingers from your aching cunt. you whined at the loss, a high, desperate sound, the sudden emptiness a sharp, hollow ache.
your head was a mess of unashamed filth; you wanted to scream at him to put those thick, scarred fingers back in, to stretch you until you broke. he shushed you, his free hand stroking your hip, a soothing, possessive gesture that trembled with his own uncertainty.
"easy, easy," he murmured. "just for a moment. i want to see all of you before i make a real mess."
his words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. a real mess. the promise was a heady, intoxicating thing.
with a single, smooth motion, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, settling you back on your feet between his powerful thighs. he rose with you, a mountain of a man, and for a moment, you were completely enveloped in his shadow. then he was kneeling before you, his massive frame sinking to the floorboards, his head now level with your soft belly.
his big hands went to your hips, then slowly, reverently, the cool air kissed your heated skin, raising goosebumps. the candlelight flickered, casting your lush curves in a golden glow.
he just knelt there for a long moment, staring. he looked at the heavy swell of your breasts, the dark, pebbled nipples. he looked at the soft, roundness of your belly, the way it curved down to the small thatch of hair between your legs. he looked at the generous flare of your hips, the thick, soft flesh of your thighs.
it wasn't a leer; it was a worship. he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a masterpiece created just for him. his fingers, shaking and clumsy, parted your folds once again, holding your pink, dripping cunt open for his gaze. "seven hells," he breathed, the words a reverent curse. "you're... you're a goddess."
he leaned forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, just above your navel. his stubble rasped against your sensitive skin, and you shuddered, a moan escaping your lips. he trailed kisses lower, across the soft curve of your belly, until he was nuzzling at the apex of your thighs.
he looked up at you from his position on the floor, his blue eyes dark with a desperate, pleading hunger. duncan rested his cheek against the soft, warm flesh of your thigh.
"please, m'lady," he begged, his voice a rough, broken whisper. "please, let me taste you. let me worship you with my tongue too. i don't know what i'm doing. but gods, i want to eat every drop of you."
you could see him lose all composure, the last vestiges of control shattering. with the hand that wasn't braced against your hip, he fumbled with the laces of his breeches, freeing his cock.
it was as massive as the rest of him, thick and heavy, standing proud and erect from a thatch of dark curls. it was a terrifying, pulsing bar of meat, and your mind screamed with the dirty thought of how it would feel to be split by it.
he wrapped a huge, calloused hand around the shaft, his fingers barely meeting, and began to fist himself, the movement slow. the sight of him, this giant, noble-hearted man fisting himself while kneeling at your feet made your head spin with unashamed lust.
as you gave a breathy, desperate "yes," he dove in.
his tongue was hot and wet and broad, a stark, wonderful contrast to the rough drag of his stubble. he licked a long, slow stripe from your weeping entrance up to your pulsing clit, and you cried out, your knees nearly buckling.
he settled in, licking and sucking at your clit with a single-minded devotion. the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out filled the quiet room, punctuated by the harsh rasp of his own breathing and the soft, rhythmic slap of his fist on his cock.
"mmm... so much juice," he grunted into your thighs, his voice muffled and thick. "you taste like... ah! fuck... so sweet... i'm gonna... i'm gonna make such a mess."
you could hear him coating himself in your slickness, using your own arousal to lubricate his shaft. he was moaning into your cunt, a low, continuous hum of pleasure. he sounded like a dying man who'd just been given a sip of water, a starving man who'd just been handed a crust of bread.
the wet, slapping sound of his hand on himself mixed with the suction of his mouth against you—it was filthy, the kind of sound that should have made you blush, but it only made your pussy throb harder.
"duncan," you moaned, your fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer. "oh, gods, dunk... fuck, yes."
he responded with a deep, guttural "mmmmmmm" against your clit, the vibration sending a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing through you. his tongue was relentless, a slick, wet muscle that instinctively knew exactly where to go, exactly how to please. he was worshipping you with his mouth, and you were letting him, your head thrown back, your hips grinding against his face.
the feeling of being so exposed, so utterly consumed by this massive, gentle knight, was deliciously dirty. you felt needy and wanton, a complete slave to the pleasure he was giving you. your head was spinning with the thought of his huge, cum-slicked hand and his face buried in your mess.
as if sensing your rising need, he slipped two of those thick fingers back inside you. the combination of his hot, wet tongue on your clit and the blunt, stretching fullness of his fingers was too much. it was an impossible pleasure, a perfect storm of sensation that you couldn't possibly withstand. you felt your skin straining, the thick pads of his fingers scraping your internal walls while his tongue flicked at you with a desperate hunger.
his lips were sealed against your inner lips, sucking and licking, drinking down your essence. you could feel yourself gushing, a flood of slick arousal that coated his chin, his mouth, his stubbled cheeks. you could see the messy evidence of your desire clinging to him, and you could tell from the way he was fisting his own cock, from the desperate sounds he was making, that he loved it. he loved the taste of you, the feel of you, the sheer mess of it.
you started to shivering, a fine tremor that started in your thighs and spread through your entire body. "please," you begged, the word a ragged, breathy plea. "please, ser, please... fuck... i’m gonna..."
he pulled back just enough to speak, his lips swollen and glistening with your wetness. "do you like this?" he growled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "do you like how i fuck you with my fingers?" he sounded breathless, almost in disbelief that he was allowed to do this to you.
he punctuated the question by thrusting deep with those two fingers, pushing them in to the third knuckle, a brutal, stretching depth that stole your breath. you felt him bottom out inside you, his broad knuckles bruising your entrance as he forced himself as deep as he could go.
"yes!" you cried out, your hips bucking wildly. "yes, gods, yes! please please!"
he went back to devouring you, his tongue a relentless, wet heat against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of your tight pussy. you could feel the pleasure tightening in your belly, a hot, heavy knot that was about to snap. you were so close, so painfully close.
"ser” you gasped, your hands fisting in his hair. "ser duncan... i'm... i'm... fuck, dunk!"
he understood. he curled his fingers inside you, finding that secret, sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. he sucked hard on your clit, and the world shattered.
you came with a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure, white-hot and absolute, consumed you. your entire body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down on his thick fingers, your clit throbbing so violently it was almost painful. you gushed, a hot, wet flood of your arousal, soaking his face, his stubble, the collar of his tunic. you were a mess, a beautiful, aching mess.
he didn't let you go. he held you through it, his mouth still sealed against your cunt, his fingers still buried deep inside you, drawing out every last spasm of your orgasm.
at the same time, you heard him let out a strangled moan, a long, drawn-out "ahhhhhhh". you felt the hot splash of his cum against your calf, heard the wet, rhythmic sounds of him fisting himself through his orgasm. the heat of his seed was thick and stinging against your skin, a heavy, pulsing reminder of how hard he’d been working for you.
you loved the sight. you loved how he was cumming hard, the hot ropes of his seed painting his own hand, his breeches, the floorboards. he was making a mess, a filthy, glorious mess, and the thought only made your own orgasm that much more intense. his moans, oh gods, his moans almost destroyed you right then. they were the sounds of a man utterly undone, a touch-starved man finally getting what he ached for. it was a needy, desperate sound, his pathetic, beautiful whine that went straight to your heart and your cunt.
he stayed there for a long moment, his face buried in your pussy, his breathing ragged and harsh.
your legs were trembling, threatening to give out, but you held yourself upright. slowly, you reached down, your hands gentle as you cupped his face, lifting it from between your thighs. his beard was soaked, glistening with your release, and his eyes were wide, almost panicked, like a pup caught doing something it shouldn't. he looked flustered, ashamed, and utterly beautiful.
"it's alright," you whispered, leaning down to kiss him. it was a soft, tender kiss. you tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a salty, musky flavor that was you mixed with the earthy taste of him. “i won’t tell anyone. i promise.”
you kissed him to show him that he wasn't dirty, that he wasn't unworthy. you kissed him to show him that he still deserved your touch, your affection, your everything.
he responded hesitantly at first, then with a growing desperation. he surged into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you down with him until you were straddling his lap on the floor.
your body molded to his hard, muscular frame, a perfect, breathtaking fit. one of those hands slid down, cupping the generous curve of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. his grip was firm, possessive. he kissed you sloppily, a man drowning and you were his only air. you could feel the sticky mess of his cooling cum on your thigh, and the evidence of your own desire on your stomach.
you pulled back slightly and looked into his blue eyes, which were still dark with a mix of awe and residual shock.
"that," you said, your voice a soft, contented murmur, "was the most amazing thing."
a slow, shy smile spread across his face, transforming him from a terrifying warrior into a beautiful, bashful boy. he ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck.
"for me too, m'lady," he mumbled into your hair. "for me too."
you felt yourself melting against him, your body boneless and sated, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his tunic. you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear. in the aftermath of such raw, desperate passion, there was a profound sense of peace, of rightness.
you looked up at him, and you saw it in his eyes. the doubt, the self-loathing, the feeling of unworthiness; it was all gone. in its place was a quiet, dawning understanding. he finally seemed to get it. he finally believed that he was worthy of your touch, of your desire, of you.
you reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw one more tike, the scratch of his stubble a familiar, comforting sensation.
"you're a good man, ser duncan," you said, your voice soft but firm. "a kind man. and a gentle one."
he ducked his head again, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "i try, m'lady."
"you do more than try," you insisted. "you succeed."
the tension was leaving his body, the last of his hesitation dissolving. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a fierce, protective hug.
you were still nestled in his lap, your soft curves pressed against his hard, muscular frame, and you had never felt safer, more cherished, in your entire life.
he made a mess of you. but you’ve made a mess of him too.
