“a free spirit” baelor targaryen x fem!reader
🪐 smut, and english is not my first language
Baelor’s conversation with Dunk was over the moment he sent his Guards to look for you.
He knew you were around; he spotted you next to a tent trying to hide from him. But he saw you. He always did.
One of the disadvantages of him not being able to wed you was the fact that you had permission to leave without no one stopping you. You could leave him if you wanted to. But you could never. Deep down you knew you were always going to be his mistress; a secret not so well kept.
You would follow him everywhere; at first without him noticing. Later, with the passing of time, Baelor could sense you were near. He knew there was some kind of freedom with you every time he travelled, and a part of him enjoyed knowing you were hiding meters away. Waiting for him to find you. Like a hunt.
“I am starting to suspect madness has gotten to you.” the man told you. “Following me everywhere I go.”
“It’s a consolation.” you shrugged. “Following you everywhere. Waiting for your knights to find me.”
“I can simply command my men to get you a horse.” he proposed. “You can cease this childish hide and seek.”
You sighed, your hands finding a place on your waist. Ready to protest.
“But I know you’ll never give up your freedom.” Baelor admitted. “And I wouldn’t prefer it any other way.”
Even though his expression was a serious one, his words made you crack half of a smile. It was a relief knowing that once again he was not disappointed.
“I have missed you.” Baelor confessed. “You slip away from me. With ease. It’s maddening.”
“They’ll cut my head in two if they find out about what we do.” You replied.
“Why do you follow every step I take?” He asked. “Why do you cowardly hide from me?”
“I’m around you because you need me, Baelor.” You said softly. “I know that every time the Gods give you a challenge; you need me.”
He frowned.
“I have many, many wise men around me.”
“And only one who’s wiser.” You finally took a seat, facing him.
“I take it you heard what happened.” Baelor supposed.
“I saw what happened.” You corrected him. “Your nephew is… a cunt.”
“Aerion is a Prince.” He reminded you. “Your words are not appropriate for a description of a Prince.”
“I didn’t say a name, Baelor. I said your nephew.” You chuckled. “You have plenty of them. However, you mentioned Aerion.” You added with shrug. “Must mean something.”
The man stayed in silence, staring at you. His hands were together over his lap and his head was slightly tilted.
“Come kiss me, clever girl.” He demanded, although it was a soft demand; almost a whisper.
You felt that familiar feeling tingle in your lower stomach the moment you saw the smirk on his face. So wasting no time, you approached him.
Standing next to the chair where he was sitting, you waited for Baelor to stand up. But he didn’t. Instead, he simply moved himself and the chair sightly backwards, giving you enough room to sit on his lap.
“How quaint.” You giggled, climbing onto his lap. Your own hands met against the nape of his neck, and when you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you.
“Mhm.” The man mumbled. “Be soft on me tonight, my girl. I have a Trial to deal with tomorrow.”
Once your mouth crashed on his, you could feel the coldness of his rings against your legs and the warmth of your clothing covering you both. His beard scratched your jaw, and one of his hands held your hair so tightly you couldn’t help but groan when he pushed your head back a little.
“I hate when you hide from me.” Baelor whispered against your neck. You wanted to talk back, but he gave your hair a tiny painful twist, preventing you from responding a witty comment. “When you prefer to sleep in a tent instead of doing it in my bed.”
“I am a free spirit…” you joked in a whisper, feeling how two of his fingers started to test the wetness in between your legs.
“Mhm, I bet you are.” He said right before taking those two fingers of his to his mouth, all moist with your excitement. “You taste like one.”
The sight was delicious; the Heir to the Throne, running his tongue through his fingers, while keeping a firm grip on your hair.
“Do you get fucked like a free spirit too, my girl?” Baelor asked, letting his fingers go back to your cunt. You could feel his erection pressing against your lower abdomen.
“I don’t know about that, my Prince.” You murmured. “But whatever is the answer, it seems you enjoy it…” One of your hands reached down to give his clothed cock a soft squeeze. Baelor moaned and pressed himself even harder against your palm, and the fabric covering his lower half did little to nothing to hide the fact that he was leaking already.
“You kill me.” He murmured. “You will need more than a tent to hide from me.”
The Prince was older, but not bland. It took him less than a second to make you sit down instead. But not on his chair, no. On the table in front of him.
Without making the effort of standing up, he wasted no time in lifting up your clothes and grab his cup of wine.
You looked down, eager to have his privileged mouth on your cunt. Instead, he kept two of his fingers playing with your folds and used his free hand to give himself a sip of wine.
Before you could protest and beg him to take care of you properly, you felt cold. Wet.
And suddenly, the delicious smell of fermented grapes invaded your nostrils. The Targaryen Prince poured his entire cup of wine all over your stomach, thighs and cunt.
“Baelor…” you warned him. Not because you wanted him to stop; quite the contrary. However, you couldn’t quite understand why his name left your lips so… pleadingly.
While still being seated, the man started to lick the alcohol off your thighs, his wet tongue swirling over every drop as if he was thirsty. And he definitely was; just not for a drink.
His whole mouth found your cunt almost immediately and your back arched so high you heard a little crack. His hot tongue matched the coldness of the wine perfectly, and in a second your legs were up over his shoulders.
“Delicious…” he murmured. “And the wine, too.”
That way, Baelor could’ve sworn he could drink a whole barrel. And perhaps a little more if you were going to be that warm and wet for him.
“Pray tell, free spirit…” He started with the mockery again the moment his mouth left your centre. “Isn’t it time to go back to your tent?” He asked standing up and staying right in between your open legs. You felt so hot you could feel the wood of the table burn the skin on your back.
You chuckled, although it was mixed with some panting. You didn’t need to convince him to fuck you, since the Prince already had his cock out, and he was stroking it all the way up and all the way down.
“Your rings look highly expensive.” You said. “Even more when you have your hand wrapped around your cock like that.”
He took a step forward, enough to get a grip of your legs and make you get right on the edge of his table.
“A Prince’s cock has its worth.” Baelor agreed, holding his cock by the base and rubbing it all over your folds. “But this, my girl…” he darkly whispered, pushing half of his length inside you. “This… is priceless.” He swore right before slamming into you.
His cock was perfect for you, or at least that’s how it felt. Thick enough for you to feel that pleasurable burn sensation and curved enough to hit right where you wanted it the most.
The man’s hand found your lower abdomen and pressed softly. It felt exquisite, and he could also felt the head of his cock against his palm every time he pushed in and out of you. His throat let out several grunts that probably his brother Maekar heard from the other side of the Castle. But Baelor couldn’t care less; the feeling of your cunt swallowing him made the rest of the world seem foggy.
You felt your orgasm coming, so you reached down to rub your clit. The Targaryen Prince could totally rub it for you; but he liked the view. His girl, panting and covered in sweat and wine, touching herself while he fucked her. Just like he said; priceless. And just like you said; a free spirit.
It didn’t take long for his cock to start twitching inside you, and you realised he was close because of the frown on his face. Not a confused one, or angry, or frustrated; it was a desperate one. Showing you a little bit of submission once and for all. That completed your pleasure cycle, and with your walls clenching around him, you let go.
Covering him with warmth, Baelor pulled out immediately, and all of his cum covered your mound. His body was exhausted, so he let it rest atop of you, while still being careful not to crush you.
“You kill me…” you murmured, copying the words he said to you a few minutes ago.
He lifted his head and chuckled, still panting, and kissed for forehead.
“Tomorrow, after the Trial, spend your night here.” Baelor whispered.
“Is that a royal demand?” You asked with a soft smile.
“No.” He said so quietly. “It’s a beg.” he returned the smile. “When the Trial of the Seven ends, and if the Gods are by my side, I’d like nothing more than to come back, and see my girl.”