Shared Intentions — [18+MDNI!!]

Shared intentions — [18+MDNI!!]

summary: your betrothed has been away for so long, and as time passes, you ache for someone to keep you company—only to find that the one you seek is closer than you believed…

pairing: Alicent Hightower x Fem!reader, Gwayne Hightower x Fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight angst, religious themes, c!nnilingus, f!ngering, cheating, not proofread, english isn't my first language – (let me know if there were more!)

The weeks had passed at a deliberately slow pace. The hours had quelled and teased you as you waited at court, the walls closing in and suffocating you as you met dawn and dusk in the middle.

Your betrothed, Gwayne Hightower, had been gone for the Seven knows how long, and you’d been aching for him ever since he left the Keep. The days had been weary, the weather depressing, but mostly, they were slow. You had been husband and wife for only a few fortnights before he was swiftly called away to claim his post next to the new hand of the king, marching to lands where they’d bury the ashes of those who didn’t support the king’s claim.

The match had been one of romance. You had kept each other’s company for many months before the previous hand of the king suggested the marriage. You still reminisce about your wedding night and how you could give in to one another at last. You had only tasted the sweet flavour of love for a brief time, and already it had been taken away, leaving you in a burning state, longing to relive the moments you had together.

The match had been one of romance, or so you believed, nay, you knew. Therefore, you couldn’t fathom what made the interval before his arrival abruptly bearable. You weren’t sure why you stepped into the Great Sept of Baelor that evening, having never had a devotion to the Seven before, and your mind was blank as to why you claimed a seat next to the queen regent. All you knew was that she gave you the comfort you desperately needed.

It all began so innocently. From silent whispers in the Great Sept, to assuring eye contact, to solacing caresses, which then led to you being summoned to her chambers late at night. These meetings were sacred to you, never failing to remind you of their origin at the heart of the Seven. Although you were also aware of the illicit, sinful nature of your encounters, only the shadows of the night bore witness, unhearing of the wicked whispers the queen regent made dance across your flushed skin.

Nights turned into mornings, which then turned into evenings. Now, presently, at the fourth hour past midday, you struggled to keep your breath at pace. Your back was against the cobblestone wall in the queen regent’s chamber, the harsh touch a contrast to your soft, feverish skin. Your body lay lazily, barely clothed, as Alicent looked up at you beneath your skirt, her tongue hungrily exploring your folds, making you squirm beneath her touch.

She knew that when she curled her fingers inside you just right, it would draw out a heavenly choir, portraying you as a martyr, drenched in oil, with your face slightly glazed and the sunlight from the windows setting it aglow. And so, when she did, vindication had never tasted so intoxicatingly sweet. “Seven Hells, you always take it like a good girl,” Alicent breathed as her lips hovered above your cunt. Her other hand held your thighs up as her tongue finally sought out your bundle of nerves.

Your breath hitched at the mixture of her soft hums, vibrating your nerves and setting your lower stomach ablaze. “Alicent, please—” you whined, begging for more if any was even left. Your mind was a haze, feeling only her inciting, impure touch. The mere sight of your voracious state made her long for your release. “Let go for me,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours as she continued to work her fingers in and out of you, latching her mouth onto your clit like a woman starved.

Alicent watched as your eyes rolled back into your head at your release. Your body felt electrified, her touch making you see stars and feel as if you experienced heaven’s touch. She drank your nectar as your moans filled the room, and you were coming down. Your knees almost gave way when she got up, holding onto you and keeping you steady. “You did so well for me, do you know that?” she whispered. Her eyes were a soft, innocent touch to your dishevelled appearance. You nodded, returning an appreciative smile as she brought her hand to your face, faintly locking onto your jaw and neck. “We can’t keep meeting like this,” you said, though you leaned into her touch.

You watched her with her auburn hair worn like a crown, still unchanged after the event. You believed your meeting was born of lust, nothing else, with her dark brown eyes able to trap you wholly. Lust was a sin, though committed by many, whereas love would not just be considered infidelity, but something much worse, you thought, as you observed her flushed face and her wet, half-agape lips. Yet, something more than lust brewed inside you.

“We certainly can’t keep meeting like this,” she agreed, as her other hand lifted one of the sleeves of your dress, covering your breast again before her fingers trailed down to it, cupping and squeezing it slightly, causing your breath to hitch. She never looked away, daring you, seeking a reciprocated acknowledgment for what ached inside her. “This was the last time,” she whispered.

Before your mind could take over your actions, your heart already had. You pulled her into a lustful, carnal kiss, your hands roaming her body and pulling her against you. It felt as if no matter how close the two of you got, there was still space wasted between you. Nothing felt close enough, and the more you were away from each other, the more your mind and soul burned for her.

“Gods, you’re my greed,” she sighed as you moaned into the kiss. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing your tongues to melt together as one. She groped your breasts while you pulled up her dress from beneath, sinking two fingers into her heat. Alicent gasped as you thrust two fingers inside her with a fevered pace, making her rock her hips in rhythm. “You’re fucking soaked,” you breathed, feeling her wetness drenching your hand. With your thumb, you began rubbing small circles against her core, earning a blissful whine—a clear indication for you to keep going. And so you would have, had a loud knock on the door not nearly drowned out the scandalous, wet noises of your actions.

-

The unyielding wind showed no pity against your skin as you made your way to the courtyard for your husband’s arrival. It was the fifth hour past midday, and the weather seemed to share the gods’ resentment toward you. You hadn’t been able to take a bath or clean yourself up, as the voice that held the knocker’s hand had proclaimed your husband’s arrival. Your heart had sunk at the announcement, and you had hurriedly left her chamber to ensure you met your husband before he could greet his sister.

You skin was covered in a layer of barely dried up sweat, and your dress was covered in wrinkles; you felt as if you had partaken in a tournament. You tried to flatten your dress as you walked down the fore stair, but in vain, as the fabric seemed unbending. It mattered no longer as you locked eyes with your husband across the courtyard. Seeing him in person again made you vividly remember the precious moments you had shared.

You recalled the way he’d comfort you and held you, his lean arms embracing you as he whispered tender words into your ear. The way he made love to you felt eternal, lasting evermore, with his calloused hands opening you up just right. And his lips, which had tasted every surface of your skin, or the way he looked at you, whenever.

You felt lost in a maze of thoughts, but it lasted only so long before your arm brushed against someone. Not just anyone, but the queen regent, Alicent Hightower, and everything you thought of your husband was swept away by your burning desire for her.

You looked at her, just for a moment, as she looked at you. It was nothing, just a glance, but you felt like everyone in the courtyard could discern your history from that fleeting moment. Your cheeks felt hot, and you looked away quickly, heading toward your husband. His eyes were still locked onto yours, a serious demeanor overcoming him, making you believe he knew. No, you knew he knew, until his eyes suddenly softened. The gods were making you paranoid; there was no reason for suspicion, you thought, so you ignored it.

“Gwayne!” you exclaimed joyfully, taking him into an embrace. You smelled him and felt that was all you needed to remember who you truly were meant to love. “How I missed you, my love,” he sighed, pulling away and taking you into a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips, which made you melt inside. This was good; all was well. Your husband was here, and no one but the gods knew.

Alicent watched as her brother embraced her lover. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel some grudge against Gwayne, since it was all part of the arrangement. As long as he was away, she was all hers, and vice versa. But the two of you seemed like two parts of a whole.

Her brother’s relationship was bound by oath, approved by the gods, whereas yours was a double-edged sword, rotating evermore, piercing whomever reached out first. Alicent merely prayed it was a riddle, with a riddle’s ending—a way for both of you to escape without hurting one another, for her blaze to either cease to exist or ignite as one.