Slow Like Honey
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: Lyonel Baratheon x wife!reader x Dunk
Rating: Explicit (MDNI)
WC: 3.5 k
AKOTSK Masterlist
Requests Open
Tags/Warnings: Threesome, bi!Lyonel, bi!Dunk, mentions of past Lyonel/Beesbury, anal, oral, fingering, nipple piercings, polyamory, bathing, everyone loves Dunk, no beta we die like Beesbury
A/n: Happy Pride! This won the poll, and I love bisexual Lyonel. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to any tag lists.
Summary: Ser Duncan accepts your husband's offer to join him at Storm's End, and a deep bond blossoms between the three of you.
A chilly wind picked up, making you wrap your burgundy cloak tighter around you. The litter was prepared, caravans readied, and everyone was eager to depart, but Lyonel lingered for a bit longer.
"My lord, we should ready to depart," Raymont said. He was Lyonel's youngest cousin who served as his squire. He was a good lad and kept everything organized and on time, an attribute that was not your beloved husband's strongest suit.
"A few more minutes, then we can go," Lyonel said, leaning on his antler crutch. You rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, knowing he still held hope that Ser Duncan might join him.
Time passed, and the hedge knight did not show, making your husband sigh heavily.
"Let us go." The disappointed look in his dark eyes nearly crushed you. His lips gently brushed across your cheek, standing close as you mounted your horse.
"Ser Lyonel!" a deep voice bellowed across the field, and the party turned to look. Over the grassy hill rode Ser Duncan atop his huge brown destrier, which the older, brown stot following behind.
A grin broke across Lyonel's face. "Good lad, you decided to join me after all."
Dunk nodded, his face still bruised and swollen with his left arm in a sling. "I've had enough of princes, m'lord."
"Ride alongside my wife and me. We must be going, or Raymont will have all our heads," Lyonel said, clapping the horse's flank. He mounted a black palfrey, having lost his destrier in the Trial at the hands of Prince Maekar Targaryen.
The little took off, departing for Storm's End, where new adventures awaited.
Everyone was feeling sore and tired by the time they arrived at the castle. You rolled your shoulders as the household servants bustled around, and you instructed them to start preparing hot baths and a room for Dunk. Lyonel had his arms full with Roslyn and Jocelyn, fussing over the dark haired girls and showering them with attention. Their wide, dark eyes peered at Dunk curiously.
"Come and introduce yourselves, my darlings," you smiled, extended your hands out to them, and brought them closer. Roslyn was the elder, and Jocelyn was younger by three years. Lyonel adored them equally, even if they were constantly trying to get him to name a favorite.
"Miladies," Dunk said, giving a small bow, and the girls giggled.
"We will spend time together before supper. I must settle our guest in," you told them, kissing the top of each of their silky, dark heads.
"You and Ser Lyonel are kind for hosting me, milady," he said, towering over you, even bigger than your good husband. "Your daughters are as beautiful as you."
"Thank you, and we are happy to have you. My husband is quite fond of you, Ser, understandably so," you said, showing him to his quarters after winding up the stone staircase leading to the drum tower.
"You are kind to say so, milady," he said, ducking his head while his cheeks pinkened.
You escorted him into the quarters, where a steaming bath awaited him. "I will send in some of the stewards to help attend to you."
"No need for the fuss, I can handle it, I'm certain," he insisted.
"You are injured."
"It's alright."
You placed a hand on your hip. "You are as stubborn as my husband, it seems. Then let me assist you."
"N…no! That….you are a lady!"
"Very astute, Ser Duncan. I can assure you the sight of your cock will not make me faint. I've been surrounded by too many of my husband's men to pale at one."
His jaw dropped. How he yearned for the touch of a woman, yet how could he ask such a thing from a noble married lady?
You could see the hesitation all over his face. "I assure you, it will not upset my husband in any way. I have tended to many of his men over the years, plus we don't want the water to get cold."
The men who were more than simple companions. Beesbury had been one, and you knew his death tolled on Lyonel. Guilt swirled inside him, but who else would have rallied to aid in the Trial other than the dear man? The man who would have followed Lyonel to the ends of the world, and for whom Lyonel would have done the same. Over the return to Storm's End, which took a little over a fortnight, you saw the bond deepen between Lyonel and Dunk, but you did not begrudge it. Lyonel had always been honest with you about where his desires lay, and it only made you love him more. He was a good husband, a good father, and gave you freedoms along with whatever you desired, so you could not deny him of his true nature. You only asked for his honesty regarding the trysts, which he always honored.
"I…thank you, milady," Dunk murmured, and it was charming to watch such a large man attempt to make himself small.
You moved closer to help him undress, carefully removing the sling. The bruises and face swelling had gone down, but you would make a poultice for him later that evening. The blush spread down his cheeks toward his neck as you tenderly and methodically removed his clothing. You didn't let your eyes linger, not wishing to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. He got into the bath on his own, groaning as he sank into the hot water.
"Seven Hells," he sighed.
You chuckled. "Yes, a hot bath can solve nearly all issues." You dipped the sponge into the water before lathering it with soap, starting with Duncan's broad back, careful of his injured shoulder. His wounds were healing nicely, but you would give them a thorough examination after the bath.
Soft sighs toppled from his mouth as you massaged his scalp. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the movements, remembering two summers ago as you tended to Humfrey and Lyonel in the bathhouse after the Lannisport tourney. Helping to wash the dirt and blood from them, the sweet kisses they left on your skin, the way their fingers curled inside you, the heat from their bodies as they enveloped you between them. Lyonel instructing Humfrey how to suckle your nipples. The hazy image of Lyonel's cock buried inside Humfrey as the honey mustached man gripped the stone's edge. A blurred memory from days past.
"There we are, Ser Dunk, clean as fresh linen," you smiled, noting the thin film of grime that coated the bathwater.
"I feel like a new man, thank you again, milady," he grinned, those blue eyes meeting your gaze.
"I've had the steward lay out some of my father in law's clothing for you. The dear man departed years ago, but he was almost as big as you. I can have my seamstress alter them if need be. I could arrange for supper to be brought to your rooms, but you are welcome to join us in the Round Hall if you wish."
"I would like that, milady. You've been most kind."
"'Tis my pleasure, Ser Duncan. I will leave you to rest."
He reached out, squeezing your hand. His touch lingered on your skin, like flames crackling over your fingertips. You found solace in your private quarters, where the ladies helped tend to and bathe you, dressing you in a rich golden dress embossed with vibrant purple grapes.
"Please arrange for an Arbor red this evening," you told them. You yearned for a taste of home.
Lyonel found you warming by the fire, embroidery hoop in your lap and half asleep. A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. The familiar scent of leather and musk wafted under your nose.
"Duncan is settling in nicely," he commented, studying you with his dark eyes. "You are to thank for that."
Your hand curled around his fingers. "I enjoy him, as do you, I suspect."
"You've always been perceptive, clever girl."
He pulled his fingers from your grip before kneeling in front of you. The firelight caught in the flecks of gold hidden in those dark eyes. How fitting they were for a Baratheon man. He drew your hands toward his mouth, placing soft kisses upon them. His beard made your skin prickle.
"Does it upset you?" Warm mouth spreading heat over your skin.
"Lyonel, if it truly upset me, I wouldn't have married you all those years ago," you smiled.
"You have never felt neglected?"
"Never," you assured him. "I know you would give them up if I asked, but I only wish for your happiness as I know you do for mine."
"The Gods truly blessed me with you," he whispered before laying his head in your lap. You lazily dragged your fingers through his curls, remembering when you laboured with Roslyn and how he had ridden through the night to return to Storm's End to be by your side. He didn't want you to be alone or miss the birth of his first child. You'd never forget the proud look on his face as he held her in his arms. The bonny babe wrapped in a gold cloth.
"All this will be yours one day," he whispered to her.
"I am sorry about Beesbury," you whispered, "I know how special he was to you."
"He was a good man, a fine man, and he is with the Gods now."
"I promised our girls I would spend time with them before supper," you hummed, gently massaging his scalp as you had done with Ser Duncan earlier.
"Ah, well, do not keep our little lasses waiting," he smiled, rolling to his feet.
"Go and visit with Dunk; he would be happy for your company." You rose, pulling Lyonel's face down and kissing him softly.
Supper was a warm affair, with your daughters transfixed by Duncan's endless appetite.
"You will be well fed here, Ser Duncan," Jocelyn said.
"I have no doubt, milady," he chuckled.
The girls entertained Dunk with their dancing once supper ended, and you knew that he would be favoured in these halls.
Many moons passed, bringing the three of you closer into an intricately woven web. While you had cared for Beesbury, participating in the occasional dalliance, you had never truly fallen for one of your husband's paramours. But there was something different about Dunk. He was pure hearted, a knight of the people. It was hardly surprising how he won over the hearts of many at Ashford, even the departed Prince Baelor. Your daughters took it upon themselves to teach him letters, helping him to read and write, and never poking fun at him. He doted upon them, constantly parading around the castle with them tossed over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing more than a simple bag of flour. Most of his days were spent with Lyonel in the training yard, and the hedge knight picked up skills easily. He was stalwart.
You came to welcome the shy smiles he would toss your way. The way those blue eyes would sparkle. The rosy flush that clung to his cheeks and neck. The rough feeling of his hand beneath yours when he would help you to stand or dismount from your horse. It all made your heart skip a beat.
You couldn't ignore the hushed whispers between him and Lyonel. The swollen lips of your husband as he crawled into your bed. The all too familiar bite marks marring Dunk's pale shoulder when he undressed, the colors of your husband's house falling around his feet. A strange jealousy began to bloom deep inside your belly, but you did not wish for it to fester and cause you to rot.
"Will you share him with me?" you whispered to Lyonel one evening.
"Hmm?" Lyonel hummed, half asleep next to you.
"Dunk. I wish you to share him with me," you stated more clearly.
"Truly?" He shifted to face you.
"Yes, please. I have never asked for much, but might I partake with you?"
"If that is what you desire." He grazed his knuckles down your cheek. "I could never deny you."
And so it began.
Dunk was green, eager to please both you and Lyonel. That head, hair kissed by fire, disappearing between your thighs with your legs tossed over his broad shoulders. Once hesitant in the beginning, his movements grew bolder until he knew exactly how to trace his tongue over your swollen pearl. The sweet reward of your release, soaking his tongue, was all he needed to show him that he had done a wonderful job.
There were the nights that he and Lyonel entangled. Two valiant warriors curved together, melding into each other. The hedge knight's weight wedged on top of the Laughing Storm, cock buried deep inside. Sweet sweat beading down your husband's neck and forehead while Dunk set a gentle pace.
The best nights were when the three of you intertwined. Each man's mouth wrapped around your breasts, making you writhe and drip with pleasure. Taking your time stroking their cocks until the flesh stiffened and leaked. Your body learned to bend and adjust in ways you never thought possible, learning to accommodate two cocks buried inside your willing, eager cunt.
The only strict rule was that Dunk could not finish inside you. Lyonel could not risk you becoming the topic of cruel gossip or feeling shamed should a child emerge from the union. Neither you nor Dunk could argue with such logic.
The storm raged outside, heavy rain falling like pellets against the castle walls. In your chambers, the fire roared in the hearth, bathing the room in an amber glow. Various flickering candles were scattered across the room. Red and gold silks were draped over the canopy of your bed. Three golden goblets were filled to the brim with crisp Arbor white, and a silver platter filled with plump red grapes, almonds dipped in honey, ripe red cherries, cups of sweet cream, and halved figs sat in the middle of the bed. All this helped to create a cozy, yet sultry atmosphere.
You wore only a gauzy, thin robe, but the two men coupling you and the roaring fire staved off the cold. Lyonel wore nothing at all apart from two golden rings threaded with a golden chain through his nipples, and Dunk was just in his thin breeches. There was still a shyness that lingered beneath his surface, only furthering the endearment you and Lyonel held for him. You dipped your finger into the sweet cream, gently licking it away. Dunk lay on his back, slipping almonds one by one into his mouth with the sticky honey lingering on his fingers.
You crawled toward him, straddling his thick chest and lifting his hand to your mouth. Slowly, you suckled the honey from each fingertip. You would never get over how big he was. His cock swelled against the curve of your arse. Lyonel watched through heavy-lidded eyes, white wine dribbling down the corners of his mouth as he indulged one thirst.
"Open her up for me, Ser Dunk," he whispered huskily.
You gasped as Dunk maneuvered your body with ease, bracing you against his chest while using his large hands to spread your thighs wide.
"The sight of that cunt would make the most skilled of sailors crash right into the rocks," Lyonel mused, reaching down to stroke his cock. "They would beg to drown in it."
"I agree, milord. 'Tis a thing of beauty," Dunk hummed. One of his hands slipped down your belly to cup you between your legs before skimming his fingers over your flesh. His middle one sank deep inside you.
"We are men of good taste, are we not?" Lyonel smirked. With hazy vision, you watched Lyonel coat two of his fingers in oil.
Dunk nodded, nuzzling your shoulder while Lyonel positioned himself between your thighs. "Very good taste, milord."
Dunk's finger buried inside you made warmth flutter through your belly, spreading lower like slow dripping honey. Like the honey lingering on your tongue from his fingers. You whimpered when the digit was removed, leaving you longing for something to clench around. He tilted you back, keeping you against his bare, warm chest as more of you was exposed to Lyonel's eyes.
"Deep breath, my darling," Lyonel murmured before kissing your belly. His hot kiss lingered on your skin, burning an invisible mark that was soothed away by Dunk's palm. You inhaled slowly, filling your lungs as Lyonel's fingers aligned with your puckered arsehole. The slip of the oil allowed them easy entrance into the tight ring. "You wished to know what it felt like."
Ah, yes, you had been curious as a cock had never filled you there, yet it seemed to bring Lyonel and Dunk great pleasure. Just two nights ago, Dunk had spread Lyonel's cheeks wide and delved his tongue between the crevice. Meaty fingers digging into your husband's plush arse while the hedge knight devoured him. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you wished to experience it. It was not unpleasant once adjusted to the feeling. A feeling of being stuffed impossibly full.
"You're doing so well, milady," Dunk whispered into your ear, the praise enveloping you like a warm robe. The wisps of the one you were currently wearing clung to your perspiring skin. You groaned when Dunk rolled the stiff, aching flesh between the rough pads of his fingers.
With two fingers still buried in your arse, Lyonel lowered his mouth to your cunt. You twitched in Dunk's grasp while your good husband suckled and lapped at your swollen pearl. His fingers curved upward, sinking in deeper and hitting a pleasure spot inside you. Thick, pleasurable moans spilled wantonly from your parted mouth as you tumbled into an intense release.
"Dear Gods, woman, you do intend to drown me," Lyonel said with a wide grin, the aftermath of your release clinging to his beard and mouth. Gently, he withdrew his fingers before standing to wash his hands at the basin. Dunk stroked your body, peeling the thin covering away from your body.
"May I, milady?"
"What a sweet lad to ask," Lyonel teased.
"Leave him be," you chided. "Please, Ser Duncan, you may."
He kept you braced against his chest, your legs hooked over his wide thighs, before plunging two fingers into your sopping cunt.
"Ah!" you gasped, clenching around them. You felt Lyonel's hand on your cheek, thumb sliding between your lips.
"Open."
You obeyed, parting your mouth wide. The white wine trickled into your mouth, splashing against your tongue and quenching your thirst with the crisp taste of citrus. You sputtered softly, closing your mouth and feeling a thin stream run down the corners of your lips, then dribble down your neck. Dunk's free hand massaged your breasts, and soon your toes curled as you toppled into another peak. Heat prickled across your body, chest heaving softly in the aftermath, and you felt as if you could melt into Dunk's chest. The two men moved you carefully, settling you against the golden pillows with Lyonel hand feeding you cherries dipped in sweet cream while Dunk wiped you down with a wet cloth.
"How are you feeling, sweet wife?" Lyonel asked, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear.
"Very well, mayhaps a bit tired," you smiled. The juice from the cherries stained your lips.
"Then rest." His hand rubbed your hip and thigh. "Do you mind if Ser Duncan attends to me?"
You shook your head, stroking Dunk's face as one cheek pressed against your thigh. "Not at all. I will merely enjoy the show."
"The Gods truly broke the mold with you, good lady wife," Lyonel whispered.
"Never forget it," you quipped playfully before tugging on the golden chain between the piercings, eliciting a soft hiss from him, then helped Dunk from his breeches.
He left you with a searing kiss before turning his attentions to Dunk. You hugged a pillow against your naked body as you watched Dunk dribble and smear oil between your husband's cheeks. Lyonel stretched like a lithe panther on his belly.
"Milord," Dunk whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Lyonel's neck. His hand tangled in the damp mess of Lyonel's curls as he lined up his cock. You squeezed the pillow tighter against your belly while watching Dunk's leaking, engorged cock sink deep into your husband, disappearing between his pert arse.
They kept his position for a while before switching to another, with Lyonel's legs braced against Dunk's shoulders and the Laughing Storm's knees nearly to his ears. The golden chain was clasped between Dunk's teeth as he rolled his hips, driving himself deeper into Lyonel. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. The heat and desire between them bled heavily through the room. Lyonel left a sticky, pearlescent mess over Dunk's belly while the hedge knight's spend leaked from your husband's puffy hole. You tended to them after, wiping them down and kissing them before the three of you curled together.
You had never intended to love another, but Dunk was special, and you would welcome him into your heart and bed. Just as you knew Lyonel had.
