MASTER OF NONE ✧ maekar targaryen x prostitute!reader
synopsis: when the anvil’s eldest son disappears on the streets of king’s ladning, he is up in arms, demanding a search be carried out, but instead of his firstborn he stumbles upon his son’s favorite pleasure worker
warnings: MDNI! legal prostitution, maekar is done with his sons, at the absolute edge of his willpower so he just goes ‘fuck it’ (literally), questionable parenting methods, fem genitalia, pleasure house setting, oral (m receiving), piv, rough sex, lowkey dub-con, english is NOT my first language so sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I proofread it (alone) on 2x speed, literally one sentence indicating r is younger than maekar
word count: 5.4K
a/n: okay so i have no idea where this fic came from but i have been in a terrible writing slump and just swarmed with school work but somehow I managed to turn this idea into an actual fic so, yay<33 hope you enjoy reading !! (definitely my nastiest, filthiest fic by far lol)
The hour was late, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over Maekar's temporary work desk. The old wood was covered with scrolls. Ink stains and a few spare quills littered the oak. Maekar's brow was pinched into an ever present frown. He pressed the sigil of his three-headed dragon ring into warm wax before sealing a letter with it. Finishing the last of his duties for the day.
He sighed heavily, the chair creaking as he pushed himself back, away from the position he had been in for the past two hours. He grunted as he stood up, feeling a muscle pull somewhere in his back.
"Seven hells," he muttered under his breath, it seemed the Seven loved reminding him of his expired youth. He had never been a particularly pious or reflective man, certainly nowhere near as Baelor was, but if he had known how roughly age would treat him, he might have appreciated the agility of his young days slightly more.
He would probably change his garments now, perhaps ask the servants to run a bath for him, that might ease the tension in his shoulders. He was going to conclude his day, the duties and expectations of the Realm would have to wait until the morrow.
But as if the Gods simply refused to grant him a moment of peace — three rapid knocks sounded out, echoing off the stone chambers.
"What is it?" Maekar barked out, far too tired and irritated to force a semblance of grace or politeness into his voice.
The heavy door creaked on its hinges, and one of his men stepped inside, the red sigil of house Targaryen apparent on his attire.
"My Prince, I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour…" The man began, eyes cast away from the King's youngest son.
Maekar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Just spit it out already." Maekar was known for his cold stares and foul moods, but he was particularly snappy today, likely owning to the lateness of the hour.
The soldier began, clearing his throat. "It is your son, your Grace,"
Maekar immedieately clutched the woodtop, knowing whatever he was going to hear next was certainly not going to please him, or elevate his mood.
"Daeron, his whereabouts have been unknown."
"I suppose I do not have to introduce you to the antics of my sons, unless you are small-minded." For Daeron to disappear into taverns and whorehouses was as natural as for a dog to bark. All knew this, to his fathers large dismay. "So why are you bothering me with this? Do I need to command you to send out guards to gather him?" He tilted his head, patience fraying by the second, it seemed the Gods were particularly keen on testing him today.
"Your Grace, we have sent out guards. Two days ago, but none have managed to locate him. We only thought it necessary to turn to you." The man explained, squirming under Maekar's fuming gaze.
"Oh fuck me," he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must I do everything myself in this fucking fortress?" But he was already pushing away from the desk, past the soldier and out the door as the guard scrambled to follow him.
"Gather your best men, they're coming with me. We are going to find my son and bring him back, drag him if we must." He commanded as a servant immedieately moved to gather his cloak and spread it over his shoulders. "I swear… or I'll see him dead…"
The soldier swallowed nervously. "Yes, my Prince."
The walk up Rhaenys' hill and the Street of Silk felt more like a walk of shame rather than a quest to return a Prince to his home. Alas, Maekar supposed no matter how much he wished to strangle his sons sometimes, he was still willing to do anything for them.
The street air was oppressive, filled with the stench of sewers and rats. In one word— it was foul. The overcrowded masses and smoke made it hard to breathe and navigate. And it was particularly hard not to stand out, especially with three guards at his heel.
Maekar had a hood tightly pulled over his head, dressed in simple,dark garments, unrecognizable due to safety measures. He did not fear the corruption of King's Landing, much of his youth had occured on these very streets.
Him and Baelor had had spent countless hours and nights here before the illusion of youth shattered, before learning the true extent of duty and bloodshed.
Lighter times, he thought. Or perhaps, it was just them who were younger then, less troubled.
One thing he never understood however, was how careless his sons were.
Yes, he had also been brash in his youth, eager to prove himself as a fourth son. He did many things one might call stupid or mindless, but he never forgot his responsibility. The name and title he swore to upkeep.
It seemed his sons cared little for honour and dignity, however. Mayhaps it was his fault, he had given them far too much freedom, spoiled them beyond reason.
He was snapped away from his thoughts when a particularly drunk and rowdy peasant bumped into him.
He grunted, pushing the man away from himself. The drunkard stumbled back, falling somewhere into the masses and quite nearly being trampled in the process.
"Are you alright my Prince?" One of the men immedieately appeared at his side, carefully looking him over for injuries.
"We're not in the battle of the Redgrass Field for fuck's sake." He snarled. "Work on finding my son." And with that he pushed further up the street.
The man barely had time to nod before they were moving behind their Prince. The moonlight and torches doing little to aid their already poor vision in the darkness.
Maekar was growing weary, seriously debating just leaving his son to drown in his cups, when one of the guards called out. "There!" The man whisper yelled. "That is where he was last seen, as one of the City Guards said."
Maekar turned his head. "How long has my son been… oh Seven hells…" His gaze fell upon the Blue Pearl, one of the most frequented brothels in all of King's Landing.
"My prince, might you wait until we go inside…" One of the guards suggested.
"No. All of you. Stay here." He was already far too embarassed, he did not need these guards finding Daeron in any additional… predicaments. Gossip, especially shameful gossip, spread like wildwifre."That is a command. And if any of you dare follow me inside, or disobey my order, I swear you will take up the black before the moon's turn."
They all nodded in unison, too scared to protest. "Good. If I find him I will send someone to fetch you, and you will bring him back to the Keep." And with that he was stepping inside the whorehouse, cloak bellowing behind him.
Immedieately, he was hit with the lewd scent of sweat, sounds of human bodies pressing against each other, women moaning and whimpering in exaggerated manners, men groaning like it was their last day on Earth.
Disgust washed over him almost immedieately, burrowing deep in his chest. He strode frorward, deciding he did not wish to spend a moment longer in this place than was absolutely necessary.
The inside of the brothel was decorated with various colors. Ornate, exotic materials covered the space. Strange monuments, perhaps imported from the Free Cities, were scattered all about the corners. Men sat at tables, shamelessly burying their head between a whore's tits or cunt. The space was only dimly lit, the naked bodies and pleasured faces shrouded in shadow.
Before Maekar could even begin to search for a familiar head of dirty blonde hair, he felt a suffocating presence appear at his side. It was the obnoxious, fruity perfume that hit him first, and then the woman's voice rang out. "To what can we owe such pleasure?"
The woman was slightly round, full in the face and hips, her flaming red hair tied into a bun, a few loose curls falling from its place on the top of her head. Her cheeks were painted with a pinkish tint and her lips a rosy shade. She was older, Maekar could tell, by the lines of her face and… well from the time he had visited the brothel in his youth.
He did not need to remove his hood for the Madam to recognize him. She could tell noble man from royal blood like one could tell the difference between donkey and horse.
His lips turned into a sneer, tugging his hood tighter over his head, although his purple irises were painfully illuminated in the evening light. "We haven't had the pleasure of entertaining the King's sons, not since the two most formidable of them got married." She tutted.
There was a playful smirk on the corner of her mouth, her orange dress only accentuating her fiery features. She dared reach a hand towards him but he caught it swiftly, firmly dropping it back into place.
"And so it shall stay." He spoke forcefully, eyes narrowing, warning the woman not to test his patience.
She clicked her tongue, clearly offended by his behavior. She took a careful step backwards. "Ah, so the Prince is not here to satisfy his… desires." The woman clearly enjoyed daunting him. Quite bold, for a whore.
"I am here because—" Maekar began.
"For your son?" The woman raised a finely drawn brow, the expression on Maekar's face told her everything she needed to know.
"Ah…" There was a teasing lilt in her voice, she was taking far too much pleasure in daunting him. "Which one of them has gone astray this time I wonder… is it the younger one… the pretty one, temperamental though, like his father—"
"Shut your mouth, if you wish to keep your tongue." Maekar pulled them into a secluded corner, some semblance of privacy in this place that was anything but,
"Alright your Grace, no need to be so handsy." She scoffed, recoiling from his rough grip. "I know who you're looking for. It is your son, Daeron? Or am I mistaken?"
At the mention of his son's name, his gaze softened."Yes, I am told he was last seen here…"
"Aye." The woman confrimed as a servant boy scurried inside, whispering something in her ear.
Maekar looked on with thinly veiled distaste.
"Alright, let them have her." She spoke before the boy nodded his head, not daring to look at Maekar, disappearing behind the curtains.
"Apologies. We are quite busy tonight, unless you have failed to notice."
"My son." He barked, circling back to the reason he was here.
She sighed in annoyance. "I have no idea where your…" She wanted to say something shrewd, Maekar could tell, but she held her tongue, not daring to rile the Prince up any further.
"I don't know where your son is." She settled.
Maekar's fingers flexed before clenching into a fist at his side. He might strangle someone if he didn't find out where Daeron was.
"But…" She began, eyeing him carefully. "One of my girls, she's Daeron's favorites. A real seductress that one. She might know something, or at least where he was headed off to…"
Maekar wanted to cry out in agony. Would the Seven not grant him any mercy? Alas, he would settle for questioning one of the Madam's whores. She might at least be able to help him, tell him something about the whereabouts of his good for nothing boy.
"Fine. Take me to her." He snapped.
The Madam nodded her head, guiding him out the covered space and up the stairs of the brothel.
The sights he encountered on the way were nothing short of sinful. A lifetime of repentance would not be enough for thinking such lewd thought, let alone perform them. Men and women, women and women, men and men… all took their pleasure, and no one cared for propriety.
"Gods be good…" He muttered under his breath.
He could tell, the section of the brothel she was leading him to was much nicer. Far more private and secluded. There were seperate rooms here, and it was cleaner somehow. The smell of arousal and wine wasn't so apparent. But the smell of rather strange herbs and fumes hit his nostrils, perhaps some eccentric ols.
They finally made it to a room which was secluded by a large purple curtain, made of heavy silk, laced with intricate carvings.
He was no stranger to the appetites of his sons, Daeron and Aerion both, they were known to empty golden dragons in pursuit of dornish wine and base pleasures.
"You will find her inside. She is not working tonight." The Madam gave him one last up and down look. "Although, we can always make exceptions… for Princes." She added with a chuckle.
He grunted something in response, happy to finally have the woman out of his sight. "I am afraid I must leave you to yourself. The night is long, and there are many awaiting satisfaction… and someone needs to guide this place from chaos." She made a little sound in the back of her throat, turning on her heel, her flowery scent and flamelit hair disappearing behind the corner along with her.
This is the embodiment of chaos, Maekar thought gloomily.
He breathed deeply, mentally preparing himself , steadyiny his composure to step inside the room.
It's just a whore for fuck's sake, not the Queen of the Seven Kingdom's
And with that he moved the sheet out of the way, stepping into her private quarters.
He dropped his hood and turned to face her. There was no sense in hiding, and he knew the sight of his face would loosen her tongue, lying to royalty was after all a crime.
The chamber was far emptier than he expected. Aside from a large bed draped in dark purple silk and a golden table bearing a wine pitcher and untouched cups, the space was hollow, almost barren. It was undeniably grand, yet for all its luxury, it felt strangely uninhabited less a room for living and more a gilded cage.
Well, it is a place for fucking. He thought. And not for living.
But the thing that caught him by surprise the most, that stilled the breath in his lungs, was the figure sprawled over the plush cushions of the bed.
"Ugh, what is it? You know I’m not working tonight." Her voice was sharp, but as she turned from her back to face him, the bite died in her throat. He watched the shift in her stance, the hard annoyance in her eyes vanishing the moment she realized who was standing in her room.
She was on her stomach now, her limbs almost entirely bare save for a delicate piece of lilac silk that hugged her curves. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that the shade was a perfect match for the color of his own eyes.
"Oh." The word escaped her lips in a soft breath. He couldn't help but note the resemblance, with her eyes wide and startled, she looked very much like a confused little doe. She was young… Gods… she was very young, younger than Daeron perhaps.
He swallowed, suddenly frozen in place, his feet growing roots into the carpet beneath.
"My— my Prince…" She managed to force out, sitting back on her heels, nervously fiddling with her rings.
He could see her entire garment was see through, nipples on full display and— he dared not look lower.
How soft her skin must be, how supple her flesh, how tight her—
Maekar stopped himself, snapping back to reality.
"I— pardon for the intrusion." The words came out far unsteadier than he intendedthem. He felt the tips of his ears turn red. Gods, he was acting like a green boy seeing a naked woman for the first time. And you weren't even fully naked. "The Madam told me you might be able to help me find my son… Daeron." He explained.
"Daeron…" Your eyes softened at the mention of his name. He was one of your frequent customers, a generous one at that. You actually enjoyed his company sometimes, when he was not drunk out of his mind and crying into your neck as he fucked you senseless.
"Yes. Might you know where he is or, when was the last time you saw him?" He stepped forward tentatively, not sure where he should be positioned.
"He was here two days ago." You rose from the bed, your nightgown swishing softly around your ankles as you moved. Crossing to the golden table, you let your fingers wrap around the cool, burnished metal of the wine pitcher.
The sound of wine spilling filled the room. "I have not seen him since." You admitted, not turning towards… what you could only assume was the King's youngest son. Daeron's father.
You turned towards him, goblet balanced between your hands.
Maekar studied your features for a moment, the lines of your face, the tilt of your head, the curve of your breast— he had no business admiring a whore, one of his son's whores at that.
He cleared his throat, gathering what little composure he had left.
You studied him quietly. He bore those unmistakable Valyrian traits, the snow white hair and those deep, violet orbs. But his beauty was seasoned. Unlike Daeron, his face was worn by time and silvered with faint scars. You found yourself sure of one thing: his skin would feel nothing like his son's beneath your hand.
"And what did he tell you, the last time you saw him?" He pressed.
You pondered for a moment, eyes looking towards the colorful ceiling. "Something along the lines of ‘You have the best cunt in all the Seven Kingdo—’”
"So he didn't tell you where he was headed? Or what he intended to do?" He cut you off immediately. Had you not known better, you might have thought him flustered. But he was a man grown, not a boy, and you knew such things were beneath him.
"No, I am afraid not." You said more quietly, eyes turning away from him.
The room in the air suddenly felt suffocating and you weren't sure where to look or what to do. "I am truly sorry your Grace, for not being able to help you find your son" You bit your lip, placing the goblet back on the table, the silver making a soft click as it was placed to rest.
Maekar was ready to turn away, to thank you either way, to leave this wretched place, but some invisible force willed him to stand still.
You prowled nearer, jewels shimmering and clinking in the low light. Now, you were mere inches from the Prince. One small movement was all that remained between you and the material which covered his chest.
"But perhaps," your hand slowly rose to his neck, fingers carding through the soft hairs of his beard. "I could help you otherwise…"
He should go away, he should go away now. Slap your hand away and bark something mean, something about how you dare lay a hand on a prince without permission. It seems his son has not taught you any proper manners.
But once again that silent force takes hold of him, and he lets you touch him. He would let you— Gods, he would let you do unspeakable things to him.
How long has it been, since the last time he laid with a woman? He has not done so, not since Dyanna's passing. The memory of passing too new, too raw to be tainted like that.
But a man had needs, grief set aside or not. And those needs turned up sooner or later. It was the only plausible explanation Maekar had for the amount of blood flowing from his brain to his groin right now. The fiery blood of the dragon suddenly roared in him, burning with a hellish intensity. His eyes clouded over with lust, his purple irises turning almost entirely black.
"Stupid girl." You gasped as his hands found their way around your throat, threatening to constrict your airflow. "I know whores are not particularly smart, but has fucking a prince not taught you some nice manners?"
He pushed you backwards, toward the enormous bed you were previously lounging in. The same bed you fucked his son in.
You let him practically shove you onto the cold, silk sheets as you felt heat rise in your body. That familiar warmth spreading. A carnal need pulsing between your legs.
You bit your lip, enjoying the way he was choking you. How if he applied just a little more pressure he could crush your windpipe.
He might, the thought flashed for a second, he could get away with it. No one would care if a prince killed a whore, he would not have to answer to anyone.
But you were certain, you felt it, it was not his intention to end your life, he didn't have that bloodlust in his gaze, which you had seen in so many men before. Lust, he had yes, but not the kind for death.
The power he had over you, it aroused you. And he could tell.
"Gods," he croaked, loosening his hold on your throat, where faint blue marks were already beginning to bloom. "How old are you?"
You almost laughed at his question. "Old enough." You countered, daring to grab his doublet and pull him down into a searing kiss. He gruned as he all but fell upon you, lips locking with yours, catching himself to not crush you under his weight.
The sting of his beard felt deliciously sharp, and you suddenly imagined how it might feel against your pussy. You moaned at the thought as Maekar pulled away.
"My Prince," you whimpered.
"Maekar." He corrected, tracing his finger from the top of your collarbone down to the curve of your breast down to your hip.
"Maekar." You whispered his name like a prayer, testing the syllabels on your tongue.
He hummed in response, palm laying flat against your cunt before landing a slap on it. You yelped in surprise, the sting making another wave of heat course through zou.
"Please…" You whined, squirming on the bed and clutching the sheets.
Maekar scoffed, beginning to unwork his doublet. "Shut up." He pressed his fingers into your mouth as he removed his attire, his bare skin on full display in the candelight.
As you sucked his digits you admired his figure; there were scars littering his skin, the plains of his chest were strong, perhaps not as strong as in his youth. He was slightly soft, but still his shoulders carried the burden of power, there was no denying it.
Your lashes fluttered as you shamelessly stared at him, admiring his body.
"Get to work." He dragged you by the hair, planting one sloppy kiss on your mouth before pushing you towards the painful erection in his breeches.
He was rock hard, it was apparent, even through the leather of his pants. Your fingers made quick work of the laces, expert at undoing them. Maekar suddenly wondered how many men you had already lain with.
At least you looked like an expensive whore. And expensive whores meant clean whores. Which he didn't truly mind, he was a Prince of the Realm after all, he was used to only the finest of everything. If his sons endulged in such vanity all the time, why shoudn't he have his fill, every once in a while? Be rid off his burdens at least for one night.
When his breeches finally came down and his thick cock sprouted out you all but whined at the sight. He was long, not extremely, but there were veins and ridges covering his member. And you knew how good it would feel, buried deep inside your cunt, just hitting the right spot, scratching your velvety walls—
Maekar suddenly forced you to your knees, the soft of the carpet cutting into your skin. "Let's see what my son has taught you." He groaned, and before he could brace himself you were already on him.
Your lips connected with the head of his cock, tentatively teasing him with kitten licks, before he grabbed a fistful of your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail and fully forced you onto him.
You gagged at the intrusion, the scent of his precum overwhelming your sense as he hit the back of your throat. You locked your lips around him, beginning to use your tongue like you had been taught to.
Maekar threw his head back, an almost animalistic groan ripping from his chest. "Seven hells woman." The words escaped him involuntarily, after so many nights of only having his hand as relief, and the bitter guilt which ate away afterwards, having a real, warm mouth encapsulate him felt almost as good as fucking for the first time. He couldn't imagine how good your cunt would feel, full of his—
He suddenly thrusted forward, beginning to fuck into your mouth. You chocked on his cock, nose brushing against the silver bush under his belly.
Your hands steadied themselves on his thighs, finding purchase on his pale skin.
Maekar could spent hours just fucking your mouth, letting you trace every ridge and vein with your tongue, shooting load after load of milky release down your throat. Hell he would let you suck the very soul out of him, and he'd die a happy man. But what he wanted more, even more than that, was to have you screaming and crying on his cock.
He quite literally had to drag you away from him, as you whined in protest when he pulled you back up. He was nearing his realease, and he did not intend to shoot his first load anywhere but your sweet pussy.
"Maekar—" He grabbed your face and pushed you faceforward into the sheets. Pulling your ass up in the air.
"Whores don't complain. Whores say 'thank you' for having the privilege of sucking a Prince's cock. Hm?" He placed a firm slap on the skin off your butt, urging you to reply.
"Thank you." Your words were muffled by the sheets, still panting heavily from catching your breath.
"Good, maybe she's not so dumb after all…what do you think, is this pretty cunt ready for me to take her?"
You nodded your head feverishly, embarassingly wet. Arousal was practically pooling from between your legs and staining the sheets a darker shade.
You had seen how thick his length was, and you had to admit you weren't certain it would fit, not even with how wet you were… but you would make it work, this was your one job after all.
"Greedy girl…" He chuckled, pressing teasing circles into your clit as you meweled. "M'gonna break her if I just push in, but you wouldn't mind, would you? Destroy this sweet pussy?"
You shook your head, desperate for him to do something, anything—
And you all but screamed when unexpectadly, with one forceful push he buried himself to the hilt. You scrambled forward, attempting to escape the burning sensation, the stretch of your cunt molding to his cock. One of your hands tangled in the sheets as the nother reached back, searching for him.
His hand found yours, giving it one reassuring squeeze before he placed it back over your head. "Seven hells, she's gripping me so tight. So perfect. Would never tell this sweet cunt belongs to a whore."
You felt tears sting your eyes, gathering in your waterline, the pleasure so overwhelming it was threatening to spill over.
Without waiting for any response he pulled out, before pushing back in, fully to the brime once gain. You clawed and scratched at the sheets, the lewd noises your cunt was making filling the air.
He set a brutal pace, a rhytm that was impressive for a man of his age. He fucked into your cunt repeatedly. He was doing this for himself, for his pleasure and relief. You were merely a tool. He was taking and taking, completely disregarding your pleasure, but somehow that turned you on even more.
He was rough, experty so, but only to the amount that was pleasurable, never crossing the limit and threatening to hurt you,
"How does it feel, huh? To be fucked by a real man? And not a drunken boy?" He was drunk off the feeling of your walls pulling him in, the lewd noises escaping your throat music to his ears. He could tell, you were not faking it.
"So good, fuck, so good…" You mumbled euphorically, the lust clouding your brain.
"Yeah… now every time my son fucks you, you will think of me, you will think of how I could fuck you better, fuck you right." He accentuated every one of his words with a particularly rough thrust, before deciding to flip you over onto your back.
"Look at her," he cooed as his eyes fell upon your tear stained cheeks, his cock twitching at the sight. "So fucking pretty, all fucked out. Fucked you dumb, did I?"
You whined something incoherent, latching your legs around his hips.
You felt yourself nearing the edge, the tight coil in your belly threatening to snap and spill over. "Please, Maekar… need to cum…"
"Oh, so she does have manners?" He tilted his head, slowing his thrusts. "You're not useless after all. Whores ask for permission to cum."
You whined, nodding your head in response. "Hm…" He was enjoying the authority he exercised over you. How he was just keeping you from tumbling over the edge.
He pressed two digits into your clit, rubbing ferociously as you screamed his name. "You can cum." He croaked.
Your face contorted in absolute pleasure, brows pinching as you squirmed beneath him, your release crashing over you like a wave. Your muscles spasming in full ecstasy.
Almost immedieately after, you felt him force a few rough thrust before spilling his milky release inside you, ropes and ropes of cum filling your cunt.
He groaned as he fell forward, not minding to catch himself this time, squishing you under his weight. You pawed at his back, leaving angry red scratches on his shoulders.
He pulled out, grunting one last time as he fell beside you.You were still catching your breath, limbs dead and utterly spent, your cunt sensitive and pulsing as his pearly white load spilled out of you. You felt strangely empty all of a sudden.
You just laid in silence for a few moments, not speaking, panting in unison, in the aftermath of your shared sin.
You felt the sheets ruffle and twist as he stood up.You didn't turn to face him, instead gazing down at your now destroyed nightgown.
You heard him pull up his breeches, place his doublet back in place, doubling over as he adjusted himself.
You finally turned to your side, watching as he ruffled a hand through his messy hair, attempting to tame it.
You eyed as he placed a jangling pouch (of what you could only assume was gold), beside the wine pitcher and turn to face you one last time, perhaps to bid you farewell, but you beat him to it.
"Mother's." You finally choked it out.
"What?" Maekar's pale brows pinched in confusion, not understaning what you were referring to.
"Mother's. That's where he told me he would go." You explained, a mischievous smile making its way to the corners of your lips.
"You sly fox…" His shoulders tensed in disbelief. "The things I should do to you for this…"
You only bit your lip, batting your fucked out eyes at him. "I patiently await your next visit, your Grace. Princes are my speciality, so it seems." You looked like a well fed kitten, sprawled on your back, happy and satisfied, laying on your back with his seed spilling out of you.
He shook his head, huffing, annoyed at your little game, before moving towards the curtain and leaving your quarters. But there was some strange certainty in him that this wasn't the last time he would be seeking out your services.
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