The Warmth of a Dragon
Modern!Rhaenyra x Chubby!Fem!Reader
Summary: At the end of nearly every night, your presence helps Rhaenyra shed the weight of the world. You always take care of her so well, it’s not hard to let her do the same for you.
Warnings/Tags: no incest, no use of y/n, handmaiden reader, chubby/plus size reader, kissing, porn w/ a little plot, soft sex, groping, body worship, a little something through the clothes, breast sucking, thigh riding, fingering, oral, soft dom rhaenyra, cuddling, confession
Word Count: 6.5k
A/N: ask from @honeyoaken complete. i think i forgot most of the quiet comfort part bc i don’t know how to make myself shut up and that carries over into writing for any character apparently lol. also! i did my best to write plus size reader, though i actually am plus size myself, i found it difficult to consistently make that apparent since i'm not used to addressing specific characteristics and features in writing yet. i liked the challenge. enjoy, everyone!!!!
Masterlist
Since the news of her younger brother usurping her throne, Rhaenyra’s newly gathered council had been wearing her out and down. The hours spent arched over the painted table had long taken a toll on her back, making it difficult to relax in bed. Her head ached, daily, with every piece of information presented before her and every death accounted for. All while her grief had yet to be fully realized. With the treacherous acts of her dear husband, she felt her mind in disarray. There was now only one place, one person, she found offered her true relief.
And that was you.
“I am in need of respite.” Rhaenyra utters, her back turned to her beloved lady-in-waiting.
She was beginning to feel impatient. Your presence had been requested within the last hour, and you had yet to appear before her. Was she not of importance? That couldn’t be it. Everyone in this castle treated her with well-due respect and reverence. She was queen—at least she would be queen.
Though Elinda was more than able to ready her for a bath, and prepare her for bed, she preferred your gentle hands over her sweet cousin. After all, she’d been planning to request something of you she’d be horrified to ever make Elinda carry out. Sure, she was fond of the woman, but her appreciation for Elinda’s undying loyalty would never lead to something heavier.
“Has she been obstructed on the walk from the stillroom? Where is she, Elinda?” Before the noblewoman could begin to answer her, your sweet voice interrupts.
Elinda looked relieved to see you. A short nod of gratitude and acknowledgement was sent your way before she retreated a few paces back, giving the two of you space. As one of Rhaenyra’s most reliable companions, there was nothing that escaped her eyes and ears. She knew of the rather improper arrangement between you both and supported it nonetheless. She knew you to be kind, loyal, pure of heart and content with your station. If anything, she was happy Rhaenyra had done well to understand who could be trusted in such times without her quiet guidance.
“I am here, your grace. Forgive me, I had no intent of making you wait. This is what held me back, should you like to take a look.” You hold a full bottle of tonic between your hands, a heavy chest heaving as you try taking in measured breaths.
Rhaenyra turns to eye you and feels her annoyance wash away with the evidence of your effort to reach her before the sun had begun to set. Her mouth twitches, a bit tickled by your tense state as you wait for her to pay you mind.
She gives a short sigh before pardoning you, deciding not to tease you in front of company. “All is forgiven.”
She’s in front of you within three steps, her face close to yours as she tugs the bottle out of your hands. She pulls the cork out of it effortlessly and raises it beneath her nose for a sniff.
“And this is?” Whatever it was, was fragrant. She liked it but had little idea of its usage.
“It’s a bath tonic. I made it to be paired with the herbs in your water tonight. Perhaps it could soothe your aches and clear your mind, you grace.” You chew on your bottom lip as you gaze up at her, eagerly awaiting her decision.
You’d spent the past few hours pouring over your mother’s home recipes, searching for the ingredients, brewing, and testing this for her. You hoped your labors would be recognized.
“That is most kind of you.” She stares down at you, eyes bouncing between flushed, bitten, lips and timid eyes. It is then she remembers your audience and clears her throat.
She takes half a step away from you and inspects the glass bottle, rubbing her thumb over its imperfections as she speaks again.
“Is it best to be poured right in or shall we wait for the water to reach an even temperature?”
“It’s best to blend it now, your grace.” She nods at you, giving you the go ahead to perform the task.
You moved to the stone tub that’d been brought to sit before her chamber’s hearth and remove its canopy-like cover. Slowly, you begin to release the tonic into the hot water, watching as the liquid took on a hue mirroring the shores of the narrow sea while various herbs and petals floated on the surface. You roll up your dress sleeve and prepare to properly stir the water by steadying yourself with a single hand on the lip of the stone tub.
Her eyes darken watching you bend over it with an arm agitating the water, thoroughly mixing the tonic and herbs inside the tub. Your dress shifts forward as you lean, completely unaware of her lust-filled gaze.
She spots Elinda’s head dropping out of the corner of her eyes. Her lady-in-waiting slightly flustered by such an obvious display of attraction. Rhaenyra licks her lips, finally tears her eyes away from your backside, and turns her attention on her loyal friend.
There’s no way to hide how eager she is to get Elinda out of her chambers and the many maids waiting summoned, away from this wing of the castle. “Elinda you may retire for the night. Alert the others to retreat. I will not call upon them until day breaks. And tell Mysaria we will refrain from meeting during the small hours, as I would like to be alone after my bath.”
Rhaenyra pauses a moment before considering the purpose of asking you here tonight. “And, Elinda?”
“Yes, your grace?”
“Dismiss the guards stationed outside my door and near the wing. Task them with ensuring the safety of the children until they are to break their fast.”
“Of course, your grace.” Her companion receives her orders with a polite nod and dips low, before regarding her with a light look of mirth dancing across her features, failing awfully at restraining a laugh from bubbling up. After composing herself, Elinda walks away gracefully, closing the doors to Rhaenyra’s chambers with swiftness.
Sharp, dragon-like, eyes filled with irrepressible heat land back on you for a brief second before she urges herself to calm down. Rhaenyra walks outside, hoping a breeze would clear her mind of the awfully lewd thoughts she was having about you.
Her face steamed, nervous about the request she’d later be making and turned on by the simplicity of a handmaid dress. The way it accentuated your curves and made your bosom hard to ignore. The way your belt, made of blackened leather with an emblem encasing dragon glass, hugged your wide waist so beautifully. It angered her to not always rest her hands just there—to not be able to have her arms gather you around the middle every second of the day.
No other girl amongst her gaggle of servants could compare to you or the way your body filled out the slack, made to be modest, uniform of Dragonstone Castle. Its composition was simple, made not to draw attention and yet you took it. She felt herself start to go mad at the thought of how a handmaid dress could put any noblewoman’s extravagant threads, and figure, to shame when it was fitted upon you.
After placing the cover back over the tub, you search the room for her again, wanting to know if there was anything special she had in mind for you. Finally catching sight of her rigid figure, you inch near her and lean against a stone column as you wait quietly.
You watch from behind as Rhaenyra stands still on her bedroom’s terrace, basking in the island’s volcanic warmth and watching the last of the sun disappear over the narrow sea’s horizon. She plants her palms firmly on the rough stone ledge and takes a deep breath in, constantly willing her mind to wash itself clean of all the dirty thoughts that have begun to plague her. To you, she appeared as though conflicted by her earlier meeting with the Black Council; presumably, exhausted from a day’s worth of strategizing and strewing information, or maps, about desks and tables in every room she entered.
Feeling brave, without instruction, you step forward and take one of her hands, looking up into clouded, violet eyes, and offering a smile of quiet understanding.
“The water is ready, your grace. Do not allow your thoughts space to take ahold of you. You are a queen to the people. Do not become a prisoner to yourself.”
She feels her heart settle at your words, though her thoughts had been occupied by you now; she enjoyed the relief she expected would come after enduring the slights of her council, her family and trusted advisors, and their conflicting input, for most of this day. It didn’t give her worries a chance to reform when you patted her hand with compassion and led her to the bath. She was right in calling for you.
.˳·˖✶𓆰𓆪✶˖·˳.
You brush through her hair gently before deciding to take a more intimate route and drag your fingers through her tangles. You’re careful not to tug too hard as you work the platinum into tamed, pleasant, waves. Your fingernails rake over her scalp just right, leaving her melting, head starting to lull back and rest against the rounded slope of your stomach. You stop then, unwilling to interrupt her peace just to finish combing through her locks.
You knew that, somehow, before she fell asleep, you’d be able to braid her hair loosely. For now, you leave it and let your hands massage around her temples. The back of her head presses into you further, relying on your midsection to keep her upright as she relaxes.
The pads of your fingers press into her warm crown, rubbing forward and dragging back with a steady, mindful, rhythm. Her hair seems gold in this light, you think to yourself, in awe of its beauty as the strands reflect the radiance of the drowsy fires crackling in their tall, grand, braziers. Your fingers card through once more, parting the hair as you begin to lightly scratch her scalp. Her shoulders fall at the motion, delighted by your touch.
She sighs when you smooth her small hairs back with your palms, your hand dragging across a part of her forehead, pulling her brows and lids up with the action, and warming her heart at your silly way of doing things. To you, she looked similar to a kitten being groomed by its mother. You fold your lips, hiding your amused expression.
“Must you use your whole hand?” She asks, trying not to laugh.
“I am only ensuring the job is done well, your grace.” Rhaenyra sits up properly and turns in her chair, more alert than before, and assesses your less-than-serious attitude.
She smirks. “Mm, is that right?”
“I’d be a fool to try deceiving you, my Queen.” You shake your head, a barely restrained giggle following the quip.
Rhaenyra pauses at your address, still unused to the title but reveling in it, nonetheless. Her violet eyes darken with desire, taking in your full figure as she requests to hear it fall from your mouth again.
You do so hesitantly, losing confidence under her heated gaze. “You are my Queen.”
Rhaenyra holds your shy stare before taking your wrist in her hand and pulling you in front of her, no longer keen of straining her neck to look up, and back, at you.
Of your own volition, you kneel in front of her, now intertwined hands sitting in the royal’s lap.
“There is something I require of you, should you indulge me.” She speaks after a moment.
“Always, my Queen.” Her lips raise, and she reaches to hold your cheek in one hand, enjoying how sweet you looked when she pinched there just slightly—the roundness of your face incredibly endearing in such a moment.
“Help rid me of my small clothes. Then...” Rhaenyra leans down, her eyes fall to your lips. She lets her own brush against them softly then inches back when you advance forward. “Allow me to do the same, sweet girl.”
Up until now, you have yet to lay beneath Rhaenyra in totality. All she has ever asked of you was to satisfy her here and there. With Daemon’s marked absence, she has become greedier for your attention each week.
When found alone together, her hands would often linger on your back and stroke there with care, and her touch as you enjoyed the taste of her became softer in the way she held back your hair with a loose fist and used guiding, rather than forceful, hands. And her tone, though always domineering, carried a sort of adoration that had never been there before.
With a lack of response, surprise on your end, Rhaenyra became insecure in her request. “Of course, you do not have to service me tonight. I will not hold—”
“No! I—” You stop yourself and take a step back to correct your overly eager tone. You bow your head out of embarrassment, and submission, before starting again. “I am happy to tend to you in all the ways you desire, my Queen.”
The two of you rise to your feet and tread over towards the center of her chamber where she stops near the end of her stately bed. You go to start tying her hair back, used to her wanting it up and out of the way before you fell to your knees before her. She loathed pushing it away constantly just to watch as you pleasure her.
“Leave it for now, dear. Start here.” She drags your hands to the ropes of velvet around her midsection, pulling it looser before leaving you to undo the rest in the back.
Compared to earlier, Rhaenyra finds herself enjoying the way you took your time with her. Though she was sure it was pointless for you to dress her for sleep after aiding her in the bath, she allowed it just to have you near her. To entice you and to feel you. To watch you fight back the temptation to let your hands linger far longer than they should without her permission. She was grateful that she had the foresight to not stop you in your routine now that she’s gotten to enjoy you undressing her for the second time this evening.
Your knees weakened once the strips of fabric fell away from her, her robe slackening, falling to the ground, and allowing you a decent view of her embellished small clothes. Eager to get a full view of her, you round Rhaenyra and feel your breath leave you at the sight.
You admired the fabrics against her skin, how, as the fires shifted around the chamber, they allowed you to glimpse her intimate parts beneath the thin cotton. For a moment, you wonder how you hadn’t jumped at her earlier, then your next thought came, how she must’ve chosen this sheer chemise on purpose, wanting you tantalized before the cloth would, inevitably, pool on the floor next to her robe.
You take the thin strings above her chest with trembling fingers and tug on them. With folded lips, and warm ears, you undo the tie completely and loosen the material guarding her breasts. Upon the sight of her cleavage, your mouth goes dry.
Her small clothes had yet to be lifted and still, you were taken.
These few weeks she’d drawn you into the many rooms of Dragonstone, you’d been instructed to kneel and push up her dress. To finish her within moments. This was your first time getting to truly enjoy Rhaenyra.
She lifts your chin with a crooked finger and finds nothing but strong desire in your eyes. She hums appreciatively and dives into you.
Rhaenyra’s lips were warm, a bit chapped from her newly formed habit of biting them, and her tongue was, somehow, sweet. She grips your throat with light pressure as she deepens the kiss and presses her heated body further into yours.
The inexperience on your end made the endeavor slightly sloppy, but your inability to keep up excited her. It reminded her how innocent you were in this regard. It thrilled her to be able to teach you something new, to have nearly complete control over what followed.
She gives a solid squeeze around the base of your neck, getting your mouth to drop open in response. She slides her tongue inside, and her claim begins there, marking the mood of the evening. It’s sensual—the way she moves—how she doesn’t need her hands to caress you, in the way a light nip has you falling into her, when pulling apart from the kiss makes you nothing but desperate for more.
You gasp out in the second she gives you to breathe. “Your grace!”
“Rhaenyra.” She’s quick to say.
Her name feels foreign on your tongue as you speak it under her gaze of anticipation. With each syllable came an increasingly overwhelming feeling of unease. At your station, speaking her name, no title before it or behind it, was blasphemous; however, was this arrangement not absolute heresy itself? With such a reminder, you encourage yourself to have no qualms about your current actions.
“Allow me to pleasure you first, Rhaenyra.” You pause when you see her eyebrows furrow, slightly frustrated with your plea and certainly ready to protest. You cut in before she speaks—another show of confidence from you this night.
“Not out of duty! Only that...I find myself aching to satisfy you.” You press a hand above her center. “Deeply.”
She nods, suddenly at a loss for words, and steps back. The movement allows you to grab the bottom of her nightgown and lift it over her head. You drop it between you and back away to marvel at her.
The more you took in, the more you craved to have your hands on her. It isn’t long before you’re creeping closer, and your hands rise to meet her chest. You hold them there, rubbing a thumb over her peaking nipples, in awe of the way they begin to stand tall in real time.
“Pull them between your fingers, dear.” You do as she says, eyes lighting up when she moans and pushes her breasts into your hands, wanting you to fully take ahold of her.
You do. And you’d be a fool to allow the rest of her body to escape your grasps. You admire her from top to bottom, taking your time to skim your fingers from her shoulders to her inner wrists. Her breath hitches as she lets you play,
“You are divine, my Queen.” You move all her hair behind her shoulder with a single hand before lowering yourself enough to place a kiss between her breasts.
You start from there, leaving firm, lingering kisses on every inch of skin from atop her breasts right down to her soaked core. You’re kneeling now, breathing in her musk, salivating as you look up at her. You place a sweet kiss on either side of her hips before you move to part her thighs. There, you press your lips just above her mound and pull back to look up at her with your hands still resting near where she needed you most.
Rhaenyra’s chest is heaving as she peers down at you; her eyes are wild at the sight of you on her knees for her. Though it was her favorite sight to behold, she needed something else of you.
First, she needed you uncovered. She grabs your hands and pulls you up gingerly.
“I should like to witness you bare, if you would allow me.” She levels her stare with yours, letting you feel the weight of her desire, wishing you would grasp that she craved you like a madwoman.
You don’t decline, but neither do you accept her verbally. Instead, you begin to undo your dress for her, a part of you knowing she may not be familiar with the intricacies of it. Rhaenyra watches attentively as you start to pull away you first layer of clothing. She takes back the reins once you’re left in your thin shift.
She stops the hands that head down to gather the material. Rhaenyra, with the reveal of your wide-set figure, had become enthralled by your nipples standing erect under the fabric of your small clothes. She pulls the piece tighter across your chest, her hands enveloping each breast as she observes you closely. Unable to hold back any longer, Rhaenyra wraps her lips around one of them, soaking the fabric as she sucked. She used her fingers to twist and flick at the other, closing her eyes as she grew wetter with each of your moans.
You beg her, shaking as you stand in place. “Rhaenyra, please. Take it off.” She hums around your breast and clutches the bottom of your shift.
Before lifting the piece of clothing over your head, she trails her tongue across your chest to engulf the other breast. You squirm as she flattens her tongue against the peak, dragging it up, then wrapping her mouth around it once more. She lets her tongue and thumbs take turns between flicking, sucking, pulling, and lapping at your nipples.
When you think you can’t take anymore is when she finally tugs the shift off of you.
She plants her hands on your hips while she draws back to commit your figure to memory. She looks over you carefully, as you had done, from top to bottom, almost worrying you with her silence.
Rhaenyra admires the marks stretching across your skin and traces them with a gentle, reverent, finger. You shiver as it starts to fall lower, trailing down your thighs before she pulls you into her, hands grabbing you from the back, feeling the weight of you in her hands.
She kisses your nose, then your lips, lightly.
Finally, she speaks. “Would you forgive me if I ravished you now? If I ignored your plea and held you under me until day break?”
You pout at her, hoping she really wouldn’t make you wait. “Not without complaint, Rhaenyra. I wanted you first.”
“Shame you believe such to be true.” She shakes her head at you, sure you wouldn’t understand the depths of her affection nor how long she’d waited for this moment.
“I asked first.” You say, holding back the urge to point a finger in the face of your queen.
“That, you have.” She relents.
Though she’s reluctant to wait, she finds a compromise and instructs you to move, entertained by the look of triumph taking over your face. “I need you in bed now. Lay down for me, darling girl.”
Rhaenyra presses you to a sit on the edge of the bed and motions for you to move into the center where you lay nervously. You don’t have long to wonder what she needs from you.
“Spread your legs.” She commands, yet to climb in herself.
You do so slowly, stopping when you’re sure she has a view of the mess that had become of you. But it wasn’t enough.
“Further.” Rhaenyra grabs your legs, prepared to adjust you herself if you decided to get shy on her. She found there was no need. “There.” She stops you.
Rhaenyra mounts you then, a leg bracketing on each side of your thigh. Her wetness meets your skin in the next second and you both groan at the feeling. Her knee is dangerously close to your center, inches away from making contact with you.
You lay there, enjoying the view of her above you; and her, cherishing your innocence before it was stripped away from you. You nod at her to continue after she makes certain you’re comfortably positioned. She begins to grind slowly, resting one of her hands on your other leg for stability as she moves.
It’s a slow back and forth, a whine tears out of her throat when she gets herself spread over you just right, her clit sliding across the expanse of your thigh as she begins to leak, making the movement almost frictionless. Her usual composure is nowhere to be found as she starts to slump forward with her eyes trained entirely on where your skin meets hers.
“I need your hands on me at once.” You waste no time complying, eager to grip onto her sides and drag her across your muscle.
“My obedient girl.”
You felt yourself in awe as you focused on the way she rode you, logging every roll of her hips, the pace, and her moans, for later use. Wanting more control of the situation, you raise your leg slightly and tense your thigh under her. She gasps and you feel more of her arousal beginning to drip down your leg and pool into the cover beneath you.
Feeling bold, your hand makes a slow descent from her hip bone to between her thighs. She pushes herself forward to meet your fingers and her knee pushes against your folds. The two of you groan simultaneously. Her hips stutter as she registers your warmth. She inches closer, giving you no way to avoid the connection.
“Follow me.” She demands.
Rhaenyra bites her lips as she monitors your movement but quickly loses the ability to teach you any lesson when your fingers begin to circle her clit from below, the rhythm of it somewhat faster than her grinding. Your hips rise and fall against her knee, you fight to keep concentrated on pleasuring your queen, needing more than anything to satisfy her first.
You knock the breath out of her when your hand slips further down, probing at her entrance before sliding a single digit in, a simple task when her excitement had spread between her thighs. Rhaenyra stops there with a sharp inhale. You pause as well, your hips settle back down on the bed, afraid you’d ruined it.
“Have I done something wrong?”
She shakes her head silently and starts again, working her hips carefully, holding herself back from picking up the pace. She bounces heedfully over you. Her hand, that had yet to do anything, drifted upwards to grasp her chest, twisting and pulling at her own breasts. You feel yourself dripping at the sight and rock your hips again, your blood rushing as you try to match her rhythm.
You add a second finger, and Rhaenyra falls into you with a curse. Your foreheads meet as she intends to kiss you, but with you thrusting into her, knuckles deep, Rhaenyra pauses, mouth ajar, and pants heavily into your own parted lips.
“Fuck! There. Do not stop.”
She whines as you pump into her at a steady pace, building her release. You tilt the palm of your hand up, letting it meet her clit as you work her. Rhaenyra begins to shake in response to the stimulation, and you feel your ego swell.
The woman above you was soaked with sweat from the effort of keeping herself upright, the overwhelming wetness between you two, and her ever-growing desire for more at the sight of you beneath her. Your full body was laid out for her to admire as you enjoy one another unhurriedly. It takes incredible discipline, on both ends, to keep from increasing the speed.
She grinds down once more before she spills out onto your hand and thigh. Her head is thrown back as she comes, screaming your name. You could only hope there were no guards stationed beneath the terrace, fearing the mixed space that was her bedchamber would give away your misdeeds.
You slow your thrusts and let them become shallow as she comes down from her high. You pat her hip gently with your other hand, trying to provide her with a tempo to breathe in time with. She picks up on your intentions quickly and tunes herself into you.
Although warning her that you’d be pulling yourself away, Rhaenyra hisses as though unready to face the emptiness that followed. She eased herself off of you and lays between your legs, needing a short break before thinking about continuing further.
She pays no mind to the amount of wetness coating your thigh, a mix of her arousal and your sweat, as she gets comfortable. You reach down and lift the hair off the back of her neck, aiding her in cooling down as she clings to you.
You breathe in time with one another as you both stare, dazed, at the stone walls of her chamber. Her scalp is hot and damp with sweat as you tangle your fingers in her hair.
As if reignited, Rhaenyra shoots up. Unbeknownst to you, she’d come to a realization of what she needed to do before having you the way she’d long imagined.
You look on as she begins to fix her hair and parts it. The platinum locks curled around her crown as a result of the heat created between you. She looks stunning as she begins to weave her hair into a single braid. Once finished, Rhaenyra throws the plait behind her back and wipes the sweat gathering across her upper lip.
You shift uncomfortably beneath her, doing your best to be discreet about the arousal going unattended to. You were more than willing to wait for your queen to decide whether you could enjoy the privilege of unraveling in her arms.
Rhaenyra begins to massage your thighs as she stares down at you intensely.
“Allow me to taste you?”
You don’t care how avid you seem in your reply as you nearly shout at her. “Please.”
She moves without preamble and simply pushes your legs farther apart. There’s only a short kiss above your center before you feel her tongue on you.
Her fingers are spreading your folds, allowing her mouth to work over every bit of you. You find it hard not to fall into insanity as the warmth of her mouth envelops you. Your hips cant up into her, as if doing so would allow her a better position to swallow you whole.
Her name falls from your lips in a melodious chant as you continue to push into her.
You feel her nose swipe against your clit continuously as her tongue darts in and out of you. She retreats, taking a breath as she observes the way you gush for her. Not a second later, she’s back on you with a broad stroke of her tongue, dragging it from your entrance to the bottom of your pelvis.
Unwilling to entertain the castle, you bite down on a crooked finger as she repeats the action. Her movement becomes slower with every pass over you. Her hands come up to grasp yours. She makes you tuck them under your sides and returns to her earlier ministrations. A warning glare is shot your way before she truly sinks into you.
“Tell me how good I make you feel. Don’t you dare hide it.” She speaks above your mound; her eyes connect with yours as she lowers herself against you.
“You set me alight, Rhaenyra. Please don’t—” You gasp in the middle of your plea, nearly choking when she draws your clit into her mouth with a harsh suck, letting her teeth graze it as she pulls away, then dives back in with small, gentle, licks.
You move to draw your thighs together, but Rhaenyra holds them away from each other. She mounts one over her shoulder, slurping away at you, before deciding to push both back towards your chest.
There is nothing left for you to do but cry out as she lavishes your soaking cunt. She uses a pointed tongue to glide between the creases of your folds, needing nothing but to gather as much of your arousal as possible.
You’re writhing beneath her sore jaw. Her tongue takes on a lightness that has you weeping, panting out her name. It flutters over your clit, touching down here and there at a lazy, unpredictable, rate.
Once again, she’s pulling your folds into her mouth, sparing no kindness as she sucks. One of your hands escapes to hold the back of her head as she devours you messily. The constant change in speed had you there, teetering on the edge, unable to hold onto your pleasure long enough for a proper release.
“Your grace, please!”
An angry groan leaves her at the formal address. Your core muscles are tensing, you’re throbbing for her, drenched in sweat, as you continue to beg.
Rhaenyra relents.
She circles around your clit slowly, wanting to draw your climax out as long as possible. Seconds of her keeping a steady rhythm has you quivering under her. Tears slip out of your eyes as you shake. Rhaenyra releases your legs and you lower them sluggishly, losing yourself in the heat of her mouth.
Your walls contract as she leaves a final kiss on your swollen nub and pulls away. Your breaths are heavy while she makes her way up to you. Her body is still between your aching legs, both sore from being stretched.
Rhaenyra’s grin stretches from ear to ear as she observes your ruined state, feeling nothing but pride. You smile up at her weakly, your energy leaving you after such an act.
“You were made to satiate me, and I have yet to enjoy my fill. Forgive me, dear girl.”
You barely have time to melt into the bed before her mouth is descending upon you again.
.˳·˖✶𓆰𓆪✶˖·˳.
The two of you lay entangled underneath her sheets, glowing despite the dying light of the fires ignited to illuminate the room. You had gone quiet for a while now as you rested in Rhaenyra’s arms. She’d have thought you had fallen asleep if not for the slow flutter of your eyelashes against her skin. Every blink tickled her heart and stirred her arousal all at once. She wanted to soak in your wide-eyed, teary, gaze as she ruined you for a fifth time that night. But she held back, allowing you to rest.
At least until the early hours of the morning.
Her thumb rubbed circles around your belly button. Her hand palms the plush flesh around it every now and then as she kisses up and down the side of your neck languidly. She began to worry when your breathing changed in a way that suggested you were brooding over something serious rather than becoming aroused. You were anxious.
“Is your mind clouded now, of all times, sweet girl?” You nod, your cheek rubbing against Rhaenyra’s arm.
“What thoughts fill it?” Truth be told, she was nervous to hear you say this had been a mistake, that you regretted it.
“Those of the Prince Daemon.” She sucks in a breath as her eyes search yours, seeking to understand your emotions before they’re spouted.
“Your grace, forgive me for asking, is this…arrangement temporary? Will I lose all value following his return? Do you seek me out believing he will claim the Riverlands and refuse to return to you as a consort with little sovereignty? Do you touch me out of spite for his petty actions?” Your eyes water as you near the end, a shakiness entering your voice the more you question her.
“I understand how my actions have come to persuade you of this notion. But know that I hold you in high regard. You are mine. The Prince Consort’s status, our marriage no matter how distant, is of no consequence in my decision to call upon you. I have no intent of making you share my affections, dear girl. Should you doubt my position on this—my passion for you—again, I will be there to wash away your worries. You are marked by a dragon now. There is nowhere for you to exist but by my side.”
A tear slips out at her words, and you nestle into the crook of her neck, not wanting her to see you cry. She rubs gently over the space above your ear, cooing as you try calming yourself in her embrace. It takes minutes before your cries come to a stop and turns into sniffles.
Rhaenyra takes a moment to think.
“Your father is a vassal of low rank, is he not?”
“Yes, my Queen.” You answer her, voice muffled by your position.
“Rhaenyra.” She reminds. “And your uncle’s position on Corlys Velaryon’s fleet has risen to naval strategist in the last season, yes?”
“That is right...Rhaenyra.” She lets out a pleased hum and pats your naked hip.
“When I take my seat upon the Iron Throne, your family will not be left behind. Your father is to become a Lord, given land from those unfaithful to my cause. Until that day, he will be given a proper title. Your uncle shall become a commander in the next fortnight. And you, you will become a Lady. Properly. I will make sure of it.” You pull yourself away from her neck with stunned, uncertain eyes.
“Your grace, this is too much. It is enough to serve you humbly.”
“No titles, beyond this night. At the very least, not within these walls and not alone. My heart has tethered itself to you and your being. Will you care for it, as I will yours?” She asks tentatively, her heart was stuck in her throat as she awaited your answer.
“Rhaenyra...” You search her eyes, face perceptible by the light of a dying fire, whipping around, reaching to be stoked by your hand. “Without question.”
Your lover’s smile broadens, and she embraces you, using most of the strength left within her to change your positions and situate you half on top of her. You, instinctively, rest most of your weight on your forearm as you look down at her, taking in the pure delight drawn across her features.
You were sure this was the happiest you’d ever seen Rhaenyra Targaryen. And there was nothing you wouldn’t do to keep it this way. At the same time, the bliss you received from her confession had warmed every bit of you considerably. It turned your insides to mush and left you with an inkling that you would be giddy for days.
The two of you stare at one another, admiring the other's flushed and overjoyed face, elated that both of you had chosen each other.
“Then allow me to take care of you. To give you all of which you deserve. And in return, accompany me. Let us endure this time together and find ourselves building a new world in the face of skeptics. No one will ever question your position in my heart when I command the seven kingdoms.”
“Alright, then. I give myself to you wholly, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”
