Why has no one mentioned that Egg is naked when they meet in the book?!? Three pages in and I already had to put it down because now I can’t stop thinking about this. I need a fic where Dunk pervs on him from the moment they meet.
Pervy Dunk/Egg thoughts under the cut.
Dunk drinks four tankards of ale before he leaves the inn. Maybe he’s a bit tipsy when he heads back out to find the cute stable boy playing in his armour.
Maybe he grabs the boy by the hauberk that’s falling off his pale shoulder, threatens again to clout him in the ear. He doesn’t mean much by it, just intends to scare the boy straight a bit. Maybe he doesn’t realize the force he’s put behind the words, isn’t aware of what an imposing figure he cuts, how claustrophobically close he’s gotten.
The boy is even prettier up close—fine features set delicately on unmarred skin—but he flinches, cowers away from Dunk’s raised hand. Makes himself small, as though he can disappear enough that that hand won’t find its target.
“My lord,” the boy’s voice trembles, ringing out high and clear as a bell, cutting through the intermingled breath shared in the scant space between them. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll make it up to you, I swear it.”
Small fingers pull at the front of Dunk’s tunic, gathering up the worn fabric to tug at the laces of his britches underneath.
“What do you know of these things, boy?” Dunk breathes, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. He loosens his grip on the hauberk, reaches up to pluck the helm off the boy’s head just as it begins to tip forward from its own weight.
“I know a great many things, Ser.”
Wide eyes shine up at him, a pale, defiant glint in the torchlight. The warm hue of the fire makes them appear almost violet, as Dunk imagines gemstones would look. Not that he’s ever laid eyes on any.
And then something something about how the lordling in the inn had said there’s no whores to be found here, as they’ve all gone to Ashford Meadow, and his drunken brain telling him it’s okay to let the boy service him if it’s what the boy wants.
He thinks about that small, naked body he’d glimpsed earlier—lithe limbs and milky skin, glistening as he’d stepped out from the stream, like some kind of fabled wood nymph out of Dunk’s hazy dreams. In truth, it’s been a long time since he’s been touched like this, and he’s never had the pleasure of another’s touch that wasn’t paid for out of pity by Ser Arlan tossing him a few coins at a brothel. He’s certainly never had a boy this fine, or this young, and something stirs in him, a dormant fire unfurling across the breadth of his loins.
Drop hints that Egg’s been abused by his brother, and that’s why he knows just how to handle a man’s prick so deftly and bring him to completion. But Dunk would be too thick to make the connection even on a good day, never mind at a time like this—emotionally exhausted from burying his master, from the day’s ride, and now the warm food in his belly and the ale coursing through him, jumbling his thoughts.
All he knows in this moment is that the boy’s hands are soft and sure, his little mouth is wet and warm, and he’s skilled in ways of pleasure that Dunk himself would not have had the faintest knowledge of at that age.
Oh yeah and since we’re in the stables, Egg should make some comment about Dunk’s manhood being as big as a horse’s.
Something like that. Maybe I’ll write this, I dunno.