AN: Happy Thanksgiving!
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Damon’s whole body was sweet, sweet fire. Every nerve, every inch of skin was sweltering with need. Yet nothing could compare to the heat that was swallowing up his cock. It was an exquisite, maddening intensity that could only be found between a woman’s legs.
It was the sweetest ache in the world, having his cock gripped so tightly by royal cunt. The sodden silk wrapped around his shaft, stroking the whole length of him as he drove himself into that tightness. Every thrust was pleasure, even rough and ragged as they were. By now, working through this carnal bout had fatigue beginning to seep into his muscles and bones. His body was aching but Damon kept fucking. Cersei’s cunt was too hot, too tight, too wet, and the ecstasy of having her was too delicious to stop.
She clung to him as he fucked her, wrapping her legs around his waist, clawing at his back, raking her nails over his skin. Her screams only sweetened the sting - the screams that weren’t swallowed up by Taena, anyway.
The Myrish beauty played her part well, offering the Queen softer delights with her lips and delicate hands. She laid kisses upon Cersei’s face and throat while fondling those pale, rounded teats.
Ser Damon watched as dark fingers sank into creamy flesh, teasing and pinching at the hardened, pink nipples. He watched as the two women kissed, feeling a flame rise in his heart seeing the Lady Taena’s tongue dipping into Cersei’s gasping mouth. The sight always thrilled him but he could never place why. It didn’t matter, he decided. His cock swelled harder, his blood simmered hotter, and he fucked even faster.
His queen would say it was his bastard’s blood that allowed his lusts to claim his body with such ease. The truth of it was much simpler - he had always been like this, even as a youth. He and every man who ever walked. They were beasts with beastly urges, driven to claim and conquer for the prize of sweet, womanly flesh.
Everything Damon did, he did it not for gold, or for titles, or for prestige, or even for honor. He did it all for this. The truest victory a man could have - the heaven of being rooted deep in hot, slick cunt. The little sounds and trembles were the sweetest of all. Oh, how Cersei’s sex quivered around him.
Taena was speaking now, crooning into the Queen’s ear in that accent of spiced honey. Indecent words, no doubt, but Damon could not hear them. Too soft and faint was Taena’s voice, unable to reach his ears over the sound of Cersei’s throaty moans.
The bastard knight let out a deep groan as he rooted himself within his Queen once more. So flush were their bodies that his balls were pressed against her buttocks. It was as deep as he could go and his cock was drowning in that warmth.
He drew back halfway, huffing as he felt Cersei’s sex gripping at him. The delight was strong, so intense it rocked him down to his core. Damon stabbed his cock into her again, spearing the Queen through. She squealed, her back arching from the bed. Taena was there to soothe her, latching her mouth to a heaving breast. Cersei was writhing now as neither Damon nor Taena gave her any respite.
A wondrous sight. Enough to send Ser Damon tumbling into the end. His thrusts came wild and frantic then, the stirring in his gut driving him to chase pleasure like a bloodhound. He was grunting, huffing, cursing as he pitched his cock between the Queen’s thighs. And his Queen was screaming, giving voice to her beautiful undoing. A woman broken down by the sheer force of sensation striking her core. Like a hammer falling on a red hot ingot. She clung to Damon, to Taena, to the sheets beneath her, seeking anything to keep her rooted in the world. And still she was getting swept away. Damon could see it in her eyes.
When he finally came, it was like all of the tension in his body pouring out of him. A rush of heat, strong and furious, but then it faded into a slow trickle and the pleasure kissed at him like soft cotton.
By the time his balls were done squirting their seed into the Queen, she was laying slack, her golden hair flung out over the sheets. Sweat upon her brow, with rosy cheeks and glazed eyes staring up into space. The woman was whimpering, breathing softly, her chest rising and falling. Damon became much the same once he slumped onto his back. Only the Lady Taena remained up and lively. The Myrishwoman loomed over Damon, smiling down as she cradled his head upon her lap.
“It is pleasing to see you smile.” Lady Taena said to the Queen, reaching over to play with a lock of blonde hair. “You needed this happiness.”
Cersei did not answer immediately. She was still catching her breath, so spent from the relentless fucking Damon had given her. A moment later she was turning over onto her side to face them.
“Misery and disappointment have shadowed many years of my life. For so long that I came to fear that the gods were punishing me… if it was even the gods at all.”
Taena hummed softly, curling some golden hair around her finger. “It must be a great relief to have fortune on your side now, yes?”
Cersei’s smile grew some as her gaze flickered to Damon. The bastard knight felt a warm sensation drift up his leg then. The Queen’s foot, he discovered with a quick glance.
“Hm. Fortune, as I have learned, is a bastard sellsword with a big cock.” Cersei said, curling her leg around Damon’s.
“Fortune sounds handsome.” He murmured aloud then. He was answered by the chuckling of both the Queen and her lady companion.
“He is a lecher.” Cersei shot back. “Shameless. Tireless. And loyal.”
Her emerald eyes lingered on Damon and his cock for a moment longer. Then the Queen let out a long, heavy sigh as she rolled onto her back. A thoughtful calm fell over her face as she put her focus on the silks hanging from the bedframe. There was a long silence before she spoke again.
“Loyalty.” She spoke the word with unusual dignity. “Such a rare thing in the realm. Any realm. I suppose the gods have blessed me with the both of you. Just as they have cursed me with the fools on my small council. My lord uncle. Pycelle. That oaf Tyrell. He still tries to match one of his sons to me for marriage. I should send for his lady daughter instead. A pretty, young thing… so I’ve heard.”
“They call the Lady Margaery the ‘Flower of Highgarden’.” Taena put in. Damon wondered if she had sounded wistful just then.
A smirk crept back onto the Queen’s face. Her eyes were alight as she rose up onto her elbows, sharing looks with Damon and Taena both.
“How lovely do you think the realm would find her if I had the girl paraded naked through the city streets? How forward do you think Lord Tyrell would be then?”
A pregnant pause followed. Damon and Taena shared a glance. Neither of them had an answer for their queen.
“You do not approve?” Cersei pressed them. She drew herself up to sit against the headboard now, her gaze turning sharper.
“The Tyrells have command of the Reach and some eighty-thousand men, Your Grace.” Ser Damon answered first, his voice smooth and calm. Just as it needed to be. “It is true they do not favor you… but they favor Stannis even less. It would be best to not change that.”
“Our sweet knight speaks wisely.” Lady Taena agreed. She gently let Damon off her lap and slid closer to Cersei. Yet not even her lady friend’s soothing touch was enough to placate the Queen.
“Fuck wisdom.” Cersei sneered. “If it means I must keep swallowing insults from Mace fucking Tyrell-”
“Then punish him more discreetly.” Damon offered. He had spoken out of turn but it was enough to give his queen a moment of thoughtful pause.
“Discreetly?” She repeated, somewhat indignant.
“Such a public humiliation upon a house that has not openly done you wrong will harm the throne just as much as it harms them.” Ser Damon explained without force or judgment. Again, Taena was there to give weight to his words.
“You need not despoil the Lady Margaery for all to see, my queen.”
“Yet I can still despoil her.” Cersei took on a new look. It was understanding and curiosity and keen interest. And it was the face of a woman entertaining lurid thoughts. Whatever visions were swirling through the Queen’s head, it was clear she found them most pleasing.
“You are the Queen.” Ser Damon said, sliding a hand up the woman’s bare thigh. “Your word is law.”
“It is.” Cersei smiled, letting herself enjoy the touch of her companions again. “Of course it is.”
Lady Taena took the chance to press in close to Cersei’s flank. Ser Damon enjoyed the sight of those full, dark breasts pushing up against the Queen’s ample, pale bosom.
“And what is your word now, Sweet Cersei?” The Myrish temptress purred.
“On the morrow, I will send a raven to Highgarden.” Cersei answered, eyes shining. “The Iron Throne summons the Lady Margaery Tyrell to court. The Queen wishes for a new companion. And I desire a new plaything.”