your husband and you keep getting interrupted when you try to get nasty.
OR
two times you and maekar try to get nasty, and one time where he stops caring.
wordcount: 2.6k
content: SMUT, pre-akotsk, age gap, canon divergence, resolved sexual tension, fingering, semi-public sex, p in v, dry humping, oral, no first name mentioned, english is not my first language i apologise in advance
a/n: istg my best writing happens when i'm at my lowest mentally
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It started early in the morning. The curtains at the windows were drawn back, letting the first sights of light stream through his chambers. You were wrapped up tight into the covers and furs adorning the bed, the bed curtains closed around it. Spring had started to creep back into Summerhall but the mornings were still often too crisp. You had yet to ask the servants to take down the bed hangings around you.
It was unusual for you to wake up with your husband, especially in his bed. With his duties taking up large parts of his day, you often spent the night apart. Exhausted, you must have fallen asleep in his arms last night. Or vice versa. Maekar had been tense as of late, often irritated whenever you saw him around the castle. But he saved all his tenderness for you behind closed doors.
It hadn't happened in a while though. The small moments you'd been able to spend together had been interrupted or you were both been too tired to initiate any sort of intimacy. It had left you feeling needy and craving his touch at every moment of the day. The simple sight of him had you day dreaming and a bit unfocused.
Thankfully, that morning the first thing you felt were his hands on your hip and below your breast. By the way his fingers were spread out, their aim was to claim.
"Good morning.", you hummed quietly.
His hands did not leave your body as you spoke. Instead, they explored further. Your back arched into his palm when his thumb flicked over your hardening nipple, leaving goosebumps on your skin. You could feel the other one slowly drifting between your thighs and you opened them up for him. The silence between his request and your compliance was louder than words. He let out a grateful sigh from behind you, his face buried in your neck. His beard there provided a ticklish sensation that had you squirming in his firm grasp.
"You're so bloody tempting like this."
Your hips began to move in rhythm with the flick of his fingers against your slit, his cock stiff against your lower back. He sighed again, this time with the effort of keeping still while you did the work. The curve of your ass grinding back against him was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. But after days of not touching you, he planned on taking his time that morning. On making it last.
You pleaded soundlessly, urging him to slip his fingers inside. He indulged you after a moment. One at a time, unhurriedly. The stretch was more than pleasant but you could think of nothing you wanted more than for him to bury himself inside of you this very instant.
"I thought-- ah, I thought you had letters... to write..."
His name crawled out of your throat in a moan before you could even register the sound. You buried yourself further into the warmth of his chest, one hand clasping his wrist between your thighs while the other clutched at the pillow. It was torture to hold yourself so close to the edge like this. The effort left you shaking in his arms, hips bucking wantonly to chase your release that he was keeping at bay by slowing down.
"They can wait.", he whispered against your ear.
You felt too hot under the covers, suffocated. The motion of his fingers inside you, so long and so rough, was too much for your sleep-addled brain. You were so close, so close you almost turned around and--
"Father, he's burned my training shield again!"
Without so much as a knock, Aegon burst in the room followed by two Septons who were desperately trying to drag him out. But the boy was quick, ducking around furniture and evading them like a fresh water eel.
You all but threw yourself away from your husband, clutching the covers close to your chest and thanking the Gods that you still had your night clothes on. That you both did. Maekar jumped and cursed loudly at the intrusion, shoving the bed curtains open roughly. You would have likened this experience to having a bucket of freezing water thrown at you on a summer's day. All you could do was sit in a corner of the large bed, mortified, like a deer caught in a hunter's crossbow. You were sure that you were red enough to be confused with Targaryen heraldry. Good, that way you would fade into the walls and disappear.
"The sun has barely risen and you are already testing my patience, Aegon.", Maekar hissed through gritted teeth, voice low and caustic.
"It's his fault--", the little prince argued back, or attempted to before being interrupted.
"Wait outside!" he shouted.
You did not need to ask who Aegon was referring to. Maekar's second born Aerion was a troublesome beast who enjoyed tormenting his brothers. It was a habit you had been trying to coax out of him by showing him gentleness to compensate for his father's stern hand but given his age, you guessed he was beyond teaching. No matter, try you must. For all of the boys' sakes.
Gently, you pressed a hand to your husband's back as the Septons departed with hushed apologies. It had not escaped you that apart from the initial shock of seeing the two of you in bed, their eyes did not once rise from the floor. Maekar's fingers were pinching the bridge of his nose, his legs thrown over the edge of the bed to rise. Clearly nothing would be happening that morning between the two of you, any drive for lovemaking vanishing the moment his youngest stepped inside the doorway of his chambers. You could not blame him for it. His mind was already elsewhere, disciplining the boys.
"Fucking idiots, the pair of them.", Maekar glowered as he got up.
── .✧. ──
Later, you found him in the library. Blessedly alone between the stacks.
You took a moment to observe him without a sound before approaching him. His posture was slouched back, the opposite of what you would have expected from a Prince of the Realm. But Maekar had never been anything like his father or his eldest brother. As the last in line, he was afforded more license to do as he pleased. And there was very little that pleased him, apart from you.
"What are you reading?"
For the second time that day, your husband jumped out of his skin. He scowled at you, eyes dark and brows furrowed together. At the sound of your laugh, however, his expression mollified. He reached for your elbow with his free hand and pulled you closer. You glanced around to confirm that you were not being watched. This was your home, but you would have been glad to not have to deal with the whispers of servants in every corridor.
"I'm sorry about my son this morning.", he said tiredly, as if it were the hundredth time that day he had had to repeat the words.
"I hope you weren't too harsh on him, he's just a boy and there was no harm done."
"He has to learn, gods be damned."
"There will be other times... like now.", you hummed in return.
His lips parted in protest but you silenced his words with a kiss. The tip of your tongue darted out to deepen the kiss and he rewarded you with a groan. The book he had been holding was completely forgotten in his grasp as he pushed you back against the stacks with intent. Your hands flew to his face and cupped his scar-lined cheeks, unable to stand the absence of his lips on yours after the abrupt ending of that morning.
"You're impossible...", he scoffed, amused at your desperation.
You wasted no time in dropping to your knees in front of him. Your hands traveled up the length of his powerful thighs. When they reached his hips, his fingers tightened in your hair and brought your face closer. You mouthed over the fabric at his hardening girth while your eyes remained staring into his own icy ones. A promise, if he stayed patient enough to earn his reward. He whispered a curse in a language you haven't had time to master yet, a sound guttural and smouldering. His hips bucked when you trace the outline of his cock with your teeth, making you smirk. Maekar had both hands on the shelf behind you now and thank the Gods above for that. He could feel his knees buckling and you hadn't even started yet. In truth he had been pent up, thinking about you in every position known to him, since that morning. It was hardly fair of you to keep him waiting any longer by toying with him.
"Hurry up."
Before your hands could undo the fastening of his pants, you heard a voice from behind your husband calling out his name. You whirled on yourself and grabbed the first book you could reach, pretending to read in your awkward crouched down position. It was a tactless subterfuge but it should have avoided the worse. You cringed and hid yourself behind Maekar's legs, too embarrassed to rise from the floor now. He had shuffled a foot back and was rapidly flipping through pages of his tome. His eyes were everywhere but you and they spoke volumes about how aggravated being interrupted for a second time that day had made him. The mood was not only sour, it was near violent. You had half a mind to send the Septon away before he could reach you.
"The texts you requested, Your Grace."
The Septon's face was a mask of beatific calm as he glanced at you furtively. He handed over a handful of scrolls to your husband before departing. Rather hurriedly, you noted. With horror, you realised this was one of the same Septon from the pair that was in his chambers chasing after Aegon that morning.
Maekar thanked the man tersely, watching him depart in heavy silence. You both waited until you heard the doors of the library close before looking at each other. You cleared your throat and rose, dusting your skirts.
"I shall see you at dinner.", you squeaked out.
There was no point in continuing now. You'd lost your nerve.
── .✧. ──
It was much later, after dinner, when you saw him again. He had taken his supper to his solar to catch up on his missives. Or at least that was what you'd gathered from the servants you had questioned when he hadn't come to the hall to meet you.
You had already bathed when you came to his rooms. Instead of getting dressed for bed, you had opted for an overlong robe tied at the waist and nothing else. At this later hour, the day turning into night, it was easier to sneak around without being seen. You didn't risk running into a servant or guard. You hoped the surprise will be welcomed by your husband. At least the two of you could end the day on a happy note.
"Husband.", you called from the door as you closed it behind you and leaned back.
The lock you turned deftly made a noticeable clicking sound, but Maekar did not acknowledge it. He only made a sound as a reply but did not lift his head from his papers. His fingers were visibly stained with ink. Sheets of parchment laid at his feet around his desk, discarded after being ripped or scrunched in frustration. This would be another one of his long nights... unless you had anything to say about it.
"Maekar.", you tried again, more determined.
He finally looked up at you and sank further into his chair. Miserable was the word you would have chosen to describe him on that particular evening. But that was about to change.
"Have you come to torment me again?", he grumbled.
You did not reply. Instead, your hands undid the tie of the robe at your middle. The fabric parted around you, revealing an expanse of soft and warm skin down your middle. Maekar's chair was loud against the floor as he pushed it back and almost toppled it over in his rush to pounce on you. He crossed the space in an instant, his hands and lips immediately making contact with your skin, supple from the bath. They roamed your naked stomach and sides greedily. You went limp and pliable in his arms.
You let him turn you around, palms bracing against the door as his foot nudged your legs apart. He only had the time to line himself up and push inside you with a shared moan before a knock rasped on the other side of the door. He did not seem to care at all, hips already moving at a punishingly rough pace. You clawed against the wood desperately but found no purchase there. His thrusts seemed to force whimpers from deep in your throat, each louder than the last. If he kept on going like this, he'd have you screaming soon.
"Your Grace?", a voice probed on the other side.
"What?", Maekar growled back with effort.
"A raven from the Hand of the King."
"This fucking family...", he muttered.
His large hand came up abruptly to press against your lips, clutching your cheeks and jaw and stifling your sounds. This proved inefficient, if not utterly pointless. You moan helplessly, the sound barely muffled by his palm. His hips stilled, buried so deep you felt it in your gut. Still you chased after the friction, rocking back against him as much as the space would allow.
"Keep quiet unless you want us to stop, again.", Maekar reprimanded in your ear.
You acquiesced with a frantic nod and bit down on the fingers he slipped in your mouth instead. You could taste the ink and parchment on his skin, the metal of his rings. Your tongue rolled around the digits greedily and it was his turn to groan.
"Leave it here and go.", he said with effort, biting your neck soon after to muffle himself.
He pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades and began moving again, the rhythm slowly building until you were gasping for your release. You were glad of the press of the door and his chest against you as your legs began to shake and you writhed at the drag of his cock inside you. The pressure built on and on, almost unbearable so, your eyes rolling back inside their sockets.
"I've waited all fucking day... to be inside you...", he panted between each thrust.
You nearly howled as your peaked barrelled over you, a litany of curses mingled with his name blabbered through the fingers still in your mouth. Both of his hands came to grab your hips tightly as he picked up the pace and pounded into you, chasing after his own release. You felt him bottom out and still, a choked out moan leaving his lips.
After what felt like an eternity to catch your breath and feel stable enough to stand by yourself, you pulled away from each other. But only for a moment. Soon, your lips were locked with his and you were driving him back towards his solid desk. A flatter surface, at least.
"Again.", you said with a wry grin.
You had been interrupted twice, you would have him twice. And a third for good measure.
"I asked ChatGPT" "I asked Grok" "I asked Gemini" Ok, well I asked Professor Abraham Van Helsing(M.D., D.PH., DLITT., ETC., Etc.,), and he gave me an hour and a half long speech that was so full of metaphors that I don't even know what he was trying to say.
While a canary in a coal mine is mainly used to refer to early indicators of potential hazards, it can also symbolise forced or necessary sacrifice of a vulnerable party that must suffer or perish to warn others of danger. While Ryland Grace isn’t warning others of danger, he is sacrificed to save the greater whole, like how canary’s were sacrificed to save human miners. Grace is the canary in the coal mine. I like this metaphor a lot, especially considering how yellow is shown in the film to represent Grace’s cowardice, but it is also the colours of a canary.
