d0reah

[d0reah]

@dcviline asked: ❝ I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. ❞ (sansa)

"You   are   a   highborn   lady.   Surely   you   must."   And   Doreah   laughs   teasingly   at   the   lady,   now   apparently,   Princess   of   the   North.   She   looks   upon   the   yards   of   the   Winterfell   lands   and   wonders   how   do   they   survive   in   such   coldness   and   it   does   not   seem   to   affect   them   as   it   does   to   the   Dothraki,   or   even   herself.   Men   there   sparred   with   ease   and   trained   and   many   groups   gathered   around   to   cheer   on   or   simply   peer   at   the   young   men.  

"Surely   one   must   had   caught   your   eye.   Man.   Or   Woman."   She   was   aware   of   Sansa   Stark's   struggle   upon   the   capital   of   Westeros   but   she   was   now   safely   home,   with   family   thought   gone.   And   with   brothers   who   would   kill   ofr   her.   Doreah   never   knew   that   kind   of   loyalty   and   for   that,   she   envies   the   young   woman.   "Do   they   teach   girls   here   of   pleasure?"

[d0reah]

An   early   rise   for   such   pleasures.   Doreah   does   not   mind,   and   she   would   rather   have   her   Khaleesi   continue   with   her   provocations   than   do   something   else.   Much   is   said   about   the   dragon's   appetite   and   she   had   experienced   twice   now   in   her   life.   Viserys   had   a   different   kind   of   hunger,   while   Daenerys'   was   a   growing   desire,   companionship   perhaps   too.   A   welcoming   hum   spreads   out   of   her   lips   as   she   feels   the   gentle   rub   over   her   clothes   and   then,   over   her   slit,   already   feeling   the   wetness   growing   inside   her,   and   the   lazy   circles   her   hips   create   for   friction.   Eyes   snap   open   as   she   looks   above   at   Dany   and   laughs,   heavy   breathing   already   taking   place   once   she   feels   those   fingers   coaxing   her   in   and   she   rewards   the   action   with   a   grind   of   her   own,   riding   those   sweet   fingers,   bare   breast   out   in   the   open   for   the   queen's   pleasure,   her   own   hands   massaging   the   hardness   nipples   before   they   move   to   Dany's,   teasing   the   curve   of   them,   pinching   in   teasing   manner   as   the   other   seems   encouraged   by   the   growing   slickness   between   her   legs.  

"Oh   yes,   you   had   grown   quite   the   expert,   Khaleesi.   Look   how   easy   you   made   me   wet."   Nice   and   warm   inside,   she   could   be   taken   by   anything   by   then.   The   attention   to   sensitive   breasts   is   appreciated   and   she   watches   with   delight   how   the   other   had   grown   so   confident   in   her   abilities.   "My   cunt   is   yours   to   do   as   you   please,   Khaleesi.   I   am   yours,   am   I   not?"   Her   handmaiden,   her   friend,   her   special   someone   who   taught   her   how   to   use   her   skills   to   gain   pleasure   for   herself   and   others.   This   is   her   reward,   Doreah   thinks,   as   another   finger   is   added   and   the   pressure   inside   is   delightful,   causing   her   to   squeeze   them   within   her   walls.  

"Fuck   me.   Ride   me   or   let   me   ride   you.   I   want   to   feel   you   too."   And   her   hands   move   between   their   legs,   searching   for   that   sweet   heat   between   the   queen's   legs,   she   finds   it   with   ease   as   she   did   often,   a   crook   of   her   fingers   to   find   her   just   as   wet   and   warm   as   she   felt.   "Do   you   like   it?   Does   it   make   you   wet   to   know   the   power   you   have?"   She   whispers   in   turn,   pink   lips   capturing   Dany's   own   into   a   searing   kiss   as   she   guides   Dany's   hip   a   little   downward   so   they   can   rub   on   one   another.   

♛ ⊱ @d0reah ⊱ you seem to know what you're doing.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘  𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐈  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐀  𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃  𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑,  ❞  she  mumbles  lazily  into  the  slope  of  Doreah's  shoulder.  Sleep  still  lingers  in  her  drooping  lids,  but  her  dreams  will  not  claim  her  again,  no  matter  how  much  she  had  bid  them  to.  It's  far  too  early  in  the  morning  to  rise;  not  even  the  sun  has  shown  itself  yet  .  .  .  but  there  are  other  ways  to  pass  the  time.  One  permissive  whisper  from  Doreah  is  all  it  takes  to  invite  the  dragoness's  touch,  her  hand  sneaking  beneath  the  Lyseni's  nightgown  to  caress  the  outside  of  her  smallclothes.  ❝ You  wanted  to  teach  me  how  to  take  my  time,  didn't  you?  ❞  Dany  giggles,  rubbing  her  fingers  along  Doreah's  covered  slit.  She  keeps  her  own  body  close,  cuddled  to  her  side  in  a  tangled  embrace  as  she  makes  use  of  the  knowledge  the  other  had  taught  her.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Sensuality.  That  was  the  word  you  used,  correct?  The  allure  of  the  senses.  ❞  She  props  herself  upon  her  elbow  and  forearm,  turning  more  to  let  her  body  hover  slightly  over  the  other  woman.  Dany  leans  closer,  letting  her  breaths  pour  over  Doreah's  lips,  but  not  yet  allowing  them  to  meet.  ❝ I  think  I'm  getting  better  at  it.  But  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  be  the  judge  of  that.  ❞  The  hand  between  the  Lyseni's  leg  draws  upward,  pressing  against  the  soft  curve  of  her  stomach  before  it  slips  inside  of  her  smallclothes,  stroking  between  her  folds.  She  is  gentle  at  first,  the  barest  of  touches  to  coax  her  arousal,  but  as  she  feels  that  familiar  slickness  grow,  she  begins  to  add  more  pressure,  searching  for  those  spots  that  the  other  seemed  to  enjoy  the  first  time  she  showed  her  how  to  touch  another  woman.

ㅤㅤㅤDaenerys  tilts  her  head  to  drag  her  tongue  along  the  sensitive  skin  of  Doreah's  neck,  following  the  same  trail  with  kisses.  Her  teeth  graze  softly  against  the  tender  skin  just  beneath  the  corner  of  her  jaw,  but  it  is  soothed  by  another,  lingering  kiss.  At  the  same  time  that  she  gives  a  playful  nibble  to  her  earlobe,  she  takes  advantage  of  the  distraction  to  sink  two  digits  into  Doreah's  entrance,  moaning  quietly  into  her  neck  at  the  feeling.  ❝ You're  so  warm  inside,  ❞  the  khaleesi  murmurs,  digits  curling  within  the  Lyseni.  She  continues  for  a  moment,  then  retracts  her  hand  briefly,  only  so  that  she  may  reach  and  pull  the  top  of  Doreah's  gown  down  to  expose  her  breasts  for  her  claiming  mouth.  When  they  return,  a  third  digit  joins  the  others,  all  three  working  her  cunt  with  voracious  dedication.  Amethysts  lift  towards  Doreah's  face  once  again,  her  lips  slowly  relinquishing  the  nipple  they've  captured  between  them  to  inquire,  ❝ What do you desire of me?  ❞

[d0reah]

"I   saw   beneath   the   dragon   your   brother   hid   as   well.   I   see   the   girl   you   once   were,   and   the   woman   you   are.   I   saw   the   boy   he   was,   and   the   man   that   was   left   behind."   And   she   loves   them   both   in   their   own   way.   She   had   felt   close   to   both   from   the   moment.   Doreah   knew   as   well   that   she   is   there   to   be   a   decoy   too,   so   similar   to   the   queen,   it   was   not   without   reason   that   the   Queen   needed   to   have   one,   if   she   were   to   be   in   danger.   Doreah's   purpose   had   been   to   teach   the   queen   the   art   of   pleasure   and   she   had   gone   beyond   that   to   teach   the   queen   of   her   own   pleasure   as   well   how   to   please   a   man.  

To   not   be   taken   as   a   Dothraki   woman   but   to   show   the   power   she   holds.   The   Khal   had   not   been   a   good   man,   but   she   had   grown   prideful   in   seeing   her   queen   holding   her   power   and   in   turn,   grow   in   confidence.   The   words   cause   her   to   pause   for   a   moment   as   she   lingers   on   the   thoughts.   She   had   not   given   Daaro   Naharis   a   spare   thought,   her   and   the   other   handmaidens   far   too   invested   in   the   growth   of   the   Bloodriders   to   care   for   the   Braavosi.   But   she   thinks   further.   "Men   like   Daario   Naharis   are   simple   to   understand.   At   least   at   first   glance.   He   does   not   seem   to   seek   more   than   what   he   tells."  

Pleasure,   money,   blood   in   battle.   He   had   made   no   hidden   desire,   Doreah   saw   his   hunger   upon   the   queen   and   saw   the   same   in   return,   perhaps   a   moment   for   the   Khaleesi   to   enjoy   herself   and   turn   lonely   nights   into   soothing   ones.   "Trust   is   gained,   Khaleesi.   You   can   give   him   your   nights   and   your   body   but   he   will   have   to   earn   your   trust   and   heart."   Doreah   speaks   in   turn.   A   gentle   grin   on   her   lips   as   she   laughs.   "He   is   a   handsome   man.   Perhaps   that   is   the   most   dangerous   thing   about   him."

Violet eyes meet violet as Doreah turns to face her, Daenerys knowing that only she of everyone truly understands her for who she is. Not even Missandei or Ser Jorah know their queen so well; the Lyseni maiden has been with her since the beginning when Viserys hired her to attend to Dany once he sold her off to Khal Drogo. Had it not been for her, and also Irri, she may well have not been able to hold onto her sanity as well as she did. Especially once she lost her son and was betrayed by the witch, once her brother was dead after threatening Daenerys' life and her unborn child. She stuck with her through it all, sweet Doreah of Lys. The words she speaks cause the dragon queen's pulse to speed apace, especially once the woman kneels before her and takes her by the hands. Shaking her head the slightest bit, Daenerys murmurs, "You have earned my trust, Doreah, surely you know this to be so." While she also trusts Irri and Jhiqui, what she has with her handmaiden is deeper than that. Perhaps due to their heritage, their shared blood ties to Old Valyria that run in their veins. Lys is a place Dany would love to see, the last bastion of what possible was of that doomed empire in the world -- a place that Doreah swore she would give her a warm welcome to should they ever make it there. Swallowing thickly and giving her friend's hands a squeeze, the silver queen nods and offers a very small smile. "I know that you do, that is why I feel you are the only person that I can go to. You will not steer me wrong and want me to do what is befitting of a queen, what my duties might dictate... but what you think will be the best for me. The girl beneath the crown, the mother of dragons, the Targaryen whose house words are fire and blood." Dragons plant no trees...

Finally, she reveals what this is all about. "What is your opinion of the captain of the Second Sons, one Daario Naharis? Is he a man that I can trust with more than just my nights, or does he too seek to use me for his own ends as most do?"

[d0reah]

my heart for a viserys iii please thank you.

[d0reah]

"Love.   Lust.   Hate.   It   is   all   one   fine   thread.   You   can   believe   what   you   want,   but   my   body   does   not   lie   to   you."   And   it   is   the   most   precious   way   she   can   show   what   she   truly   feels,   or   perhaps,   proof   that   lust   can   be   as   powerful   as   hatred.   Perhaps   she   does   hate   the   woman,   taken   captive   within   the   walls   of   a   strange   world   that   sees   her   as   nothing   but   a   toy,   a   flesh   thing   when   in   her   lands,   she   was   godlike,   a   goddess   in   the   eyes   of   her   Patreons   for   she   was   born   with   the   blessings   of   her   Gods.   And   when   another   finger   slips   inside   her,   Doreah   rewards   the   attention   with   a   moan,   pressing   her   body   to   the   Queen's   chest,   the   gentle   rattle   of   pearls   an   indication   of   her   body's   movement   as   she   does,   swirl   of   her   hips   to   let   those   slender   fingers   feel   everything   inside   her,   how   wet   and   warm   she   was.  

"I   been   neglected.   A   Lyseni   does   not   spend   many   nights   alone."   Doreah   simply   points   out   as   her   words   are   breathed   through   labouring   chest,   as   her   body   is   worked   up   and   growing   in   sweat   as   the   other   goes   harder   and   she   delights   in   the   motion.   "If   a   cock   is   what   you   want,   that   can   be   arranged.   Don't   you   have   toys   in   these   lands?"   Some   men   like   when   women   use   them   on   them.   And   women   use   it   on   other   women   too.   She   figures   Cersei   would   love   to   have   one,   besides   using   it   on   her,   because   in   this   world,   a   cock   means   power   and   virility   and   isn't   that   what   they   want   in   the   end?   "I   would   call   you   King   as   you   make   me   cum   in   your   cock."   And   Gods,   she   had   missed   being   filled   in   such   a   way.   She   thinks   of   Viserys   and   how   he   loved   to   drag   the   feeling   of   it,   before   he   allowed   his   frustrations   to   grow   and   left   her   bruising   in   the   most   delightful   way.   Or   her   Khaleesi,   so   curious   at   first   and   then   so   eager   to   learn   more.   Cersei   had   to   learn   too   but   there   was   a   certainty   about   many   things   she   wanted,   like   the   smack   on   her   rear   causing   her   to   grin   and   laugh,   muffled   sounds   as   she   bites   on   her   lip   and   rides   the   other   harder,   hands   on   the   other's   shoulder   move   to   pull   her   down   to   the   bed,   giving   her   a   sight   a   man   would   have,   if   she   were   to   have   a   cock.

  Doreah   adjust   herself   better,   one   leg   between   Cersei's   as   she   rides   those   fingers   but   makes   sure   to   create   friction   to   the   other's   cunt.   "You   would   ruin   your   pretty   dress   like   this.   It   would   smell   like   me."   Perhaps   she   would   want   that,   to   use   that   to   make   herself   cum   in   lonely   nights   afterward.   "Oh   Gods,   yes.   Like   that."   The   sounds   of   their   bodies   together   and   the   slickness   brushing   against   one   another,   those   fingers   deep   inside   her   cause   her   to   shiver   and   want   more,   she   presses   on.   Sweat   trickling   down   her   breast   as   she   rides   her   harder.   "Yes,   Yes."   And   Lyseni   words   escape   her   as   she   finally   let   herself   succum   to   the   feeling,   her   walls   closing   in   the   woman's   fingers   as   she   shivers   into   the   feeling   but   her   movements   only   become   slower   in   turn.   "You   are   so   wet   too.   Will   you   cum   for   me   or   you   want   my   mouth   like   before?"

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐈  𝐃𝐎  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔.  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄  𝐌𝐄,  ❞  Cersei  responds,  but  her  voice  holds  the  edge  of  a  jest.  Surely  she  only  flatters  her  by  saying  so,  and  yet,  the  queen  cannot  help  the  imaginations  that  race  through  her  mind  at  the  thought  of  Doreah  whimpering  her  name  in  the  quiet  of  her  room,  pretending  that  her  fingers  are  the queen's  instead.  Gods,  what  a  wicked  thought.  So  tempting,  so  obscene  that  she  wants  to  believe  it.  ❝ Or  perhaps  that's  why  you  want  to  fuck  me.  ❞  Hate  is  but  another  form  of  passion,  is  it  not?  Hate  is,  perhaps,  too  strong  of  a  word,  but  they  will  never  be  friends.  When  all  is  said  and  done,  they  are  still  enemies.  In  here,  it  makes  no  difference.  There  is  a  need  that  must  be  filled,  an  ache  that  only  Doreah  can  tend  to.  She  reminds  Cersei  of  that  with  every  touch,  the  fingers  brushing  over  the  queen's  nipple  causing  her  inhale  sharply  at  the  contact.

ㅤㅤㅤBut  she  does  like  that  little  smile  upon  her  lips,  the  genuine  pleasure  that  holds  the  other's  features.  It's  then  that  Cersei  realizes  the  power  she  has  been  given  in  this  moment.  All  of  the  Lyseni's  pleasure,  the  boundary  between  her  ecstasy  and  frustration,  it  presently  rests  within  Cersei's  hand.  The  realization  is  visible  in  her  expression,  as  if  a  door  has  been  opened  within  her  mind.  Even  if  Doreah  is  the  one  moving,  it  is  at  her  beck  and  call.  She  could  take  it  away  if  she  wanted.  She  could  make  her  beg  for  it.  There's  something  invigorating  about  all  the  possibilities  that  swirl  in  her  thoughts,  the  freedom  discovered  in  being  allowed  to  do  as  she  pleases.  ❝ That's  what  I  want,  ❞  she  answers  after  an  unintentional  silence,  and  at  the  Lyseni's  suggestion,  Cersei  slips  a  third  finger  inside  of  her.  Much  better,  she  thinks  as  a  pleased  sigh  falls  from  her  crimson-painted  lips,  entranced  by  the  tautness  around  her  digits.  By  the  gods,  she  can  feel  everything  like  this,  every  squeeze  and  welcoming  release  of  the  other's  walls.  ❝ I  might  let  you  have  it,  ❞  Cersei  teases,  ❝ if  you  work  for  it.  ❞

ㅤㅤㅤEven  now  she  tests  her  power,  but  that's  what  the  Lyseni  wants  her  to  do,  isn't  it?  To  be  free,  as  she  said?  Despite  her  teasing,  she  cannot  resist  giving  Doreah  what  she  has  asked  for,  fingers  moving  faster,  harder  into  her  walls.  The  slick  sounds  of  her  digits  pumping  into  the  handmaid  grow  louder,  enough  that  Cersei  can  hear  every  motion.  ❝ Gods,  you're  so  wet.  So  eager.  ❞  The  hand  at  Doreah's  waist  pulls  her  tighter,  savoring  the  heat  and  friction  of  the  other's  body  as  their breasts  brush  against  one another,  feeling  the  sweat  drip  from  her  skin.  ❝ If  I  had  a  cock,  I  would  let  you  squirm  on  that,  too.  ❞  Her  eyes  close  as  the  Lyseni's  lips  claims  hers  again,  holding  onto  a  section  of  her  pearls  as  if  she  could  pull  her  in  any  closer.  ❝ I  could  spend  all  night  fucking  you,  like  we  did  that  first  time.  I've  thought  about  it  every  night  since  then,  ❞  she  whispers  against  her  lips.  ❝ Is  that  the  confession  you  have  been  waiting  for?  I  want  you.  ❞  Cersei  releases  Doreah's  waist,  a  light  smack  placed  against  the  round  curve  of  her  arse,  a  firm  grip  claiming  it  immediately  afterward  as  she  urges  her  to  ride  faster.  ❝ Keep  going.  Give  me  what  I  have  asked  for.  ❞

[d0reah]

she is my excuse to write shameless naughty and not feel guilty.

[d0reah]

doreah 100% loves playing as dany's decoy.

[d0reah]

"And   are   Tyroshi   folk   not   unabashed   too?   Because   I   beg   to   differ."   Dothraki   are   a   different   kind   though,   even   for   her   Lyseni   standards,   there   had   always   been   protocols   and   purposes   when   one   allowed   others   to   watch   them.   Dothraki   would   allow   people   to   see   them   as   a   wedding   gift,   women   and   men   struggling   and   fighting   and   then   joining   bodies   into   one.   Dothraki   culture   was   brutal,   and   she   had   not   enjoyed   it   but   still,   she   would   appreciate   that   one   part   of   who   they   are,   and   once   you   showed   yourself   with   one,   you   were   marked   for   others.   Doreah   belonged   to   a   culture   where   one   belongs   to   no   one   but   the   Love   Goddess   and   her   lovers,   and   only   them   decide   who   you   should   let   yourself   be   free   with.

  It   seem,   as   his   mouth   warms   her   nipples   and   makes   her   moan   in   turn,   that   they   had   chosen   Daario   for   her,   and   she   had   accepted.   It   is   difficult   to   talk   among   his   attentive   touch,   how   he   already   knows   her   body   so   well   that   she   finds   it   hard   to   stifle   out   her   sounds   when   her   thumb   brushes   against   her   clit   and   touch   her,   finding   her   wet   between   her   legs.   How   warm   she   gets   everytime   he   touches   her   like   that,   and   her   hips   move   at   their   own   accord,   following   the   movements   of   his   fingers,   chasing   the   delightful   tease   they   give   her.   "I   am."   Doreah   manages   before   she   tries   again,   knowing   her   Daario   well,   he   would   have   her   screaming   it   to   the   heavens   if   she   had   to.

  She   still   recalls   how   jealous   he   had   been   of   Lysandro   for   simply   having   been   her   former   lover   and   oldest   friend,   but   now,   there   is   no   one   else   around   for   her   to   claim.   "I'm   yours.   And   I   only   get   wet   like   this   for   you."   She   encourages   him   further,   her   lips   moving   to   nibble   on   his   earlobe   before   her   tongue   teasingly   licks   his   neck.   "Can   you   feel   how   warm   I   am?"   And   the   slow   drag   is   delightful   for   her,   she   does   need   more.   "Please.   .   .give   me   another.   Or   give   me   your   cock.   You   know   I   can   take   it."   A   challenge   for   her   mercenary.   And   she   knows   he   loves   those.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐂𝐀𝐍  𝐈  𝐒𝐀𝐘?  𝐈  𝐃𝐎  𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐀𝐑𝐄.  ❞  He  can  hear  the  challenge  in  her  voice,  and  he  has  never  been  one  to  turn  away  from  a  challenge.  Especially  not  one  so  enticing.  Every  night  with  her  still  feels  like  a  first,  despite  how  long  they've  been  seeing  each  other  by  now.  She  has  a  way  of  making  even  the  most  simple  things  feel  exciting,  and  for  all  the  charm  Daario  had  believed  he  possesses,  Doreah  has  proven  that  there  are  ways  beyond  his  own  knowledge  to  drive  someone  out  of  their  mind.  Or  perhaps  that's  just  the  effect  she  has  on  him.  All  it  takes  is  a  touch  of  skin;  it  could  be  as  innocent  as  her  hand  brushing  over  his,  and  he  would  still  feel  his  heart  leap  in  reaction.  What  an  odd  feeling,  but  it's  one  he  intends  to  chase.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ You  would  be  eager,  too,  if  you  were  me.  If  only  you  could  see  how  beautiful  you  look  in  this  moonlight,  you  would  understand  why  it's  so  hard  to  wait.  ❞  His  attention  turns  from  one  breast  to  the  other,  filling  the  absence  of  his  mouth  with  a  teasing  hand,  rolling  the  stiffened  nipple  softly  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger.  He  can  feel  her  nails  scrape  his  shoulders,  a  low  moan  growling  from  the  depths  of  his  chest  as  his  own  touch  becomes  less  delicate.  Gentleness  has  its  place,  but  there's  only  so  long  it  can  last  whenever  they  are  together,  especially  when  she  coaxes  him  beyond  what  little  restraint  he  bears.  He  only  relents  to  let  her  guide  his  shirt  away,  the  lightest  pressure  upon  her  to  feel  her  bare  skin  against  his  own  once  it  is  gone.

ㅤㅤㅤIt  never  ceases  to  amaze  him  that  anyone  could  feel  this  soft,  this  heavenly,  and  still  be  real,  not  just  a  dream.  He  could  almost  say  that  he  had  conjured  her  straight  from  his  dreams,  but  the  gods  would  never  be  so  kind  to  him  to  send  someone  like  her  to  him  on  purpose.  No,  their  meeting  was  an  accident  of  proximity,  this  love  affair  born  from  broken,  frustrated  hearts.  Whatever  it  had  started  as,  not  even  he  can  deny  how  it  has  turned  into  so  much  more.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Do  you  belong  to  me?  ❞  Daario  questions  playfully,  but  his  eyes  show  he  already  knows  the  answer  as  they  lift  to  look  into  hers.  He  knows  .  .  .  but  that  doesn't  mean  he  won't  relish  in  hearing  her  say  it  again.  The  Tyroshi  holds  her  gaze,  a  hand  smoothing  down  the  curve  of  her  side,  over  her  hip,  finally  finding  their  destination  between  her  legs.  Digits  stroke  back  and  forth  along  her  sex  teasingly,  feeling  her  slickness  form  beneath  his  fingers  as  he  lets  them  slip  between  her  folds  and  tantalize  the  more  sensitive  sanctuary  hidden  within.  He  brings  them  to  the  top,  rubbing  circles  until  he  finds  what  he  seeks,  focusing  on  her  clit  with  precise, torturous  pressure.  ❝ Are  you  mine,  Doreah?  ❞  Daario  asks  again,  a  dangerous  glimmer  in  his  blue  eyes.  His  thumb  replaces  his  fingers  upon  her  clit,  and  two  find  another  use  as  they  slip  inside  her  innermost  haven.

[d0reah]

She   had   known   desire   as   the   palm   of   her   hand.   It   was   in   her   blood,   her   nature,   so   she   was   told   from   the   moment   she   was   born.   "I   was   born   under   a   solar   eclipse.   In   my   culture,   that   means   the   Love   Goddess   is   joined   by   her   two   husbands.   Blessed   I   was,   to   know   men   and   women's   desires.   Longings."   Doreah   speaks   as   her   eyes   close   for   a   moment   as   she   enjoys   the   gentle   exploration   the   lioness   was   doing   with   her   fingers   inside   her.   "I   thought   that   you   needed   it.   And   that   repressing   who   we   are,   and   what   we   want   does   no   one   well."   It's   what   she   had   always   been   good   at   what   she   does.   Her   hand   leaves   Cersei's   were   it   is   now,   content   with   the   exploration   and   a   gentle   roll   of   her   own   hips   at   the   touch,   hands   instead   moving   to   remove,   partially   at   least,   the   other's   gown   and   expose   breast,   which   Doreah   plans   to   explore,   guiding   her   fingers   to   brush   against   hardening   nipple.

  "I   imagine   many   things.   Before   I   came   here,   it   was   you.   With   your   doors   closed   and   muffled   moans,   but   your   guards   are   so   loyal   to   you,   are   they   not?   They   would   not   say   a   word."   And   if   anything,   Doreah   was   seen   in   this   Keep   as   a   pleasure   giver,   what   was   she   doing,   if   not   giving   the   Queen   her   pleasure?   "Hm.   Gods,   just   like   that.   Women's   fingers   always   do   such   lovely   things."   Much   better   than   men,   if   done   right,   and   she   bites   on   her   lip,   a   teasing   smile   upon   her   lips   at   the   encouraging   compliment.   The   Lyseni   let   herself   be   guided   with   ease,   one   leg   to   each   side   of   the   Cersei's   as   that   pleasing   stretch   came   back,   and   a   daring   thumb   over   her   clit,   Doreah   rewards   the   other   with   another   moan,   hands   moving   to   hold   upon   the   other's   shoulders.   And   upon   the   command,   Doreah   does   show   her.   Her   hips   roll   with   ease,   a   gentle   grind   as   to   not   let   those   fingers   slip   from   inside   her,   thighs   hugging   the   other's   for   support,   friction   causing   her   pearly   breast   to   brush   against   the   queen's   chest.

"You   can   add   another.   It   feels   like   a   cock,   you   know?   Is   that   what   you   want,   Your   Grace?   For   me   to   cum   on   your   fingers?"   She   whispers   encouragingly,   as   she   can   take   another   and   sweat   begins   to   drip   from   her   efforts   as   she   rolls   and   grinds,   special   attention   to   her   clit   does   make   her   increase   her   speed,   seeking   that   sweet   delight.   "I   bet   I   taste   sweet.   Will   you   like   a   taste   after?   And   maybe   I   can   taste   it   too?"   Her   tongue   licks   the   side   of   the   queen's   lip,   before   kissing   her,   muffling   one   growing   groan   as   she   moves,   feeling   that   sweet   stretch   inside   her,   Gods,   how   she   loves   it   when   it's   done   with   the   knowing   others   want   it   just   as   well.   "Harder.   Make   me   a   mess   as   you   say."   

ㅤㅤㅤ❝  𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐌𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒.  ❞  Her  words  lack  the  bitterness  they  would  usually  hold,  too  enraptured  by  the  Lyseni's  bewitchment  for  old  slights  to  tear  her  away  from  the  moment.  ❝ I  have  enjoyed  it.  I've  enjoyed  it  far  too  much,  ❞  the  lioness  replies,  a  mere  mumble  as  her  mouth  seeks  more  kisses,  more  of  the  fire  that  ignites  every  time  they  touch.  It  burns  through  her  as  the  crimson  silk  that  drapes  her  frame  falls  loose  at  Doreah's  hands,  warming  her  body  against  the  cold  of  the  night's  air.  But  nothing  catches  her  attention  the  way  her  falling  robe  does,  emerald  eyes  roaming  over  the  Lyseni's  exposed  form  with  a  lion's  hunger,  following  the  shapes  of  the  pearls.  ❝ By  the  gods ─  ❞  Cersei  growls  under  her  breath,  her  hands  eagerly  claiming  every  inch  of  skin  that  Doreah  leads  them  to.  Her  breasts,  so  soft  and  full  in  her  palm,  then  the  gentle  slope  of  her  stomach.  When  she  feels  her  hand  led  between  supple  thighs,  her  fingers  guided  into  the  bounds  of  the  other's  wet  heat,  the  queen  sucks  in  a  breath,  her  eyes  darkening  as  they  lift  to  search  the  handmaid's  again.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ What  did  you  think  about  when  you  did  it?  ❞  she  asks,  her  voice  turned  raw  at  the  visual  placed  within  her  mind.  She  can  feel  the  remnants  of  her  self-pleasure,  the  warm  nectar  that  gathers  around  her  fingers  as  she  begins  to  stroke  between  Doreah's  folds.  ❝ You  ask  me  about  my  desires,  but  what  of  yours?  What  is  it  that  you  imagine  when  you  slip  your  hand  between  your  legs?  ❞  Cersei  had  fought  against  it  the  first  time,  so  intent  on  letting  herself  keep  some  pretense  of  resistance  against  all  of  the  desires  this  woman  exposed  within  her.  But  this  time,  she  makes  no  such  pretense.  Her  fingers  become  more  explorative,  coating  themselves  in  the  slickness  around  them  as  they  venture  downward,  finding  her  entrance.  One  slips  inside,  then  retreats  once,  twice,  and  then  is  joined  by  a  second  finger,  testing  how  her  walls  stretch  around  them.  And  the  moan  that  leaves  Doreah  when  her  fingers  enter  her  might  be  the  most  pleasant  sound  Cersei has  ever  heard,  how  it  breaks  through  her  kisses  and  rattles  against  her  throat.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ What a pretty thing you are. I  want  to  make  a  mess  of  you,  ❞  the  queen  purrs,  a  dark  glee  evident  in  the  glint  of  her  eyes.  Her  hand  retracts,  but  only  so  that  she  may  take  Doreah  by  her  hips,  leading  her  back  towards  her  bed.  The  queen  regent  sits  upon  the  edge  of  the  mattress,  what's  left  of  her  own  robe  falling  away  as  she  pulls  the  other  into  her  lap.  ❝ Sit,  ❞  she  commands,  relishing  in  the  power  given  to  her  in  this  moment.  An  arm  wraps  around  Doreah's  waist  to  hold  her  close,  but  the  other  returns  to  it's  place  between  her  legs,  quickly  burying  the  same  two  digits  inside  of  her  again.  ❝ You  lived  among  the  Dothraki,  did  you  not?  ❞  Eyes  remain  watchful  upon  her  features,  piercing  as  her  fingers  begin  to  pump  against  her  walls.  Her  thumb  joins  as  well,  slipping  between  the  Lyseni's  folds  to  rub  against  her  clit.  ❝ Show  me  how  you  ride.  ❞

[d0reah]

𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐛𝐲 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬.

dark romance/erotica romance. intended for mature audiences, minors dni. change pronouns, tenses & other details as deemed necessary.

“My hands were made to touch you, my lips were made to love you. My eyes were meant to see you, my tongue was made to taste you.”

“You think me relentless? I'm much worse than that.”

“I'm so fucking in love with you, I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.”

"Why’d you want to have sex with me? To have a fucking adventure? What was I supposed to be? Your one-night-fucking stand?"

"You staked your claim on me, even before you realized I’d staked mine already."

"I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in life. You’re all I think about, dream about."

"You tie me up in knots. I want to play you a thousand different songs so you can get a clue of what... I feel inside me.”

“I'll never have enough of you, never.”

"That's why I didn't want to touch you; I knew I'd go crazy if I touched you."

"When I take you, you'll be mine."

"I want you everywhere. All over me... inside me.”

“You wanted me — here I am."

"Are you mine?"

“I’m yours now … Even if I screw this up, I’ll still be your screw-up.”

"I can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t concentrate worth shit anymore and it’s all because I want to be the fucking one for you.”

“You can't, [Name], you can't leave. You're mine”

“You're everything I never knew I wanted.”

"You are going to love me until I die. I’m going to make you love me even if it hurts, and if it hurts, I’m going to make it better.”

"A challenge is something you stop wanting once you acquire it. I can’t know if you’re a challenge yet until I make you mine."

"You’re always, always, going to be the one thing I’ll run straight to."

"Mind. Body. Soul. All of you for me. All of you mine."

“I didn’t choose you, but I sure as fuck can’t free myself of you.”

"I want you to love me very hard. Because I’m pretty sure I’ve never loved someone as hard as I love you."

"You are so fucking mine you don't even know how mine you are."

"You think you need me, [Name]? ... The way you need me can only barely cover half of the way I need you."

“I promise. I promise you have my heart, and you have me. You will always have me.”

“I need her with me. She goes where I go.”

“Tie the knot with me. Be safe with me. Reckless with me. Be who you are with me. Be my wife, [Name]—marry me.”

"If I fuck you, I want you to belong to me. To be mine. I want you to give yourself to me, not to the person you think I am."

"Do you know what I would do you for, [Name]?"

"You’re the only heaven I will ever know, [Name]... and if you were a hell, I’d sin my whole life just to stay with you."

“Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the fuck out of me, you won't sleep anywhere but with me tonight.”

“God, I want to die buried inside you.”

“[Name], if you could read my mind, you would start feeling really shy around me.”

“I'm going to be everything you never wanted, but nothing that you need."

“How can you be a mistake? Have you seen you?”

“There’s no point to love. Truth, loyalty—there’s something that lasts.”

“You're mine. My obsession. My dreams. My hope. My heart.”

"I see your pupils are dilated, you keep looking at my mouth ... and it’s taking all of my self-control not to give us exactly what it is we both need right now."

“I’ve been waiting a lifetime to sink myself in you."

“For me, this is a fantasy. You're the fantasy. For you, this will be a mistake. A long, pleasurable mistake.”

"You're the one. The one I’m going to marry. The one whose life I’m going to completely ruin.”

"Are you mine? Do you want me inside you?"

“We all get hurt. The question is: Who do you love enough, trust enough, and want enough to give the power to hurt you?”

“​What we’re doing is risky, but how can it be wrong when it feels so right?”

“Want is such a short word, and yet it can encompass so many infinite things.”

[d0reah]

"What   could   I   possibly   do   with   that   information?"   Doreah   simply   points   out,   for   it   is   not   in   her   nature   and   there   is   no   one   here   she   can   trust.   She   doesn't   even   trust   the   woman   before   her,   but   she   can   do   one   thing   and   that   is   have   a   purpose,   and   be   useful.   Let   the   woman   explore   her   darkest   deepest   desires   with   someone   who   does   not   mind   and   does   not   judge.   Doreah   encourages   them   greatly.   "Then   in   these   chambers   pretend   you   are   not   in   your   cage   but   elsewhere.   In   Lys,   we   do   not   judge   for   what   is   the   most   human   desire."   Carnal,   emotional,   the   desire   to   explore   and   be   explored.   In   these   walls,   that   lion   can   be   everything   but,   just   like   she   had   allowed   her   dragon   to   just   be   himself,   free   from   the   crown   that   was   placed   above   his   head.  

"We   love   when   we   touch,   and   when   we   feel.   Above   else,   when   we   allow   ourselves   to.   Have   you   not   enjoyed   yourself   then?"   When   Doreah   had   been   bold   and   had   allowed   herself   to   use   what   she   knew   to   show   the   queen   the   true   pleasure   she   was   missing.   And   when   she   is   told   to   stay   and   soft   lips   press   against   her   own   into   a   passionate   searing   kiss,   the   handmaiden   responds   with   eagerness,   hands   pushing   golden   locks   away   from   the   older   woman,   hands   pulling   over   the   silk   material   that   covered   the   queen,   and   let   her   hands   explore.   Her   own   robe   falls   instantly   at   her   feet   at   the   request.   It   was   a   mockery   of   a   cover,   for   her   breast   were   exposed   and   so   was   the   gentle   string   above   her   sex,   they   hang   with   ease   over   her   curves,   shaping   her   body   for   the   other's   delight.  

Doreah   guides   the   other's   hand   to   the   shape   of   her   breast,   squeezing,   exploring,   and   then   further   south,   by   the   shape   of   her   stomach   and   between   her   legs,   to   let   Cersei   feel   that   in   those   walls,   she   had   power.   "I   had   touched   myself   before   coming   here.   Don't   I   feel   good?"   Bright   blues   look   up   as   she   let   her   fingers   guide   the   other's   to   her   slit,   wet   and   warm   and   tender,   she   bitees   on   her   lower   lip   at   the   sensation.   "There   are   no   chains   here   but   those   you   have   in   your   own   mind."   The   Lyseni   spoke   in   turn,   kissing   the   underline   of   the   queen's   jawline,   a   pleased   moan   escaping   plump   lips   once   slender   fingers   reach   inside   her.   "What   do   you   want   me   to   do?"

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐘  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐈  𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋  𝐘𝐎𝐔?  𝐒𝐎  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐌𝐀𝐘  𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐈𝐓  𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓  𝐌𝐄?  ❞  Cersei's  defense  remain  high,  distrusting  as  always.  Doreah  is  not  her  friend.  Not  even  an  ally;  a  political  captive  who  will  gladly  sell  every  secret  she  has  learned  from  her  time  in  court  back  to  her  little  queen,  if  they  ever  find  an  equal  trade  for  her  return.  Everything  whispered  in  a  vulnerable  moment  can  be  used  as  ammunition,  a  way  for  the  Lyseni  to  exploit  her  weaknesses  as  she  desires.  That  is  all  she  wants,  Cersei  tells  herself.  To  find  a  way  to  strike  at  her,  to  use  what  she  has  learned  to  destroy  her.  But  another  slip  of  Doreah's  robe  disrupts  those  thoughts,  drawing  the  queen  regent's  eyes  to  her  bare  shoulder.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ I  have  seen  what  this  world  does  when  they  see  any  imperfection.  How  much  more  harshly  I  will  be  judged  because  of  who  I  am,  and  what  I  do  and  do  not  have.  ❞  Her  answer,  when  finally  given,  is  whispered  through  her  hesitance  as  she  breaks  her  silence.  No  one  cared  what  Robert  did  in  private.  He  would  never  be  judged  for  it,  and  any  shame  fell  upon  her  shoulders  alone.  Yet  if  she  sought  others,  she  would  be  a  monster  in  the  eyes  of  the  court.  Robert  could  warm  his  sheets  however  he  wished,  but  Cersei  would  always  be  blamed  for  her  own  cold  bed.  She  swallows,  letting  her  eyes  trace  the  silhouette  of  Doreah's  shoulder.  ❝  I  learned  the  hard  way  what  my  place  is  in  this  court,  and  it  is  not  to  be  loved.  Not  even  by  the  one  man  who  vowed  to  the  gods  that  he  would  love  me,  no  matter  what  I  did  to  try  and  win  his  love.  That  is  what  chains  me.  ❞

ㅤㅤㅤCersei  avoids  meeting  her  eyes  again  for  the  longest  time,  already  wondering  if  she  will  regret  telling  her  that  much.  It  barely  scratches  the  surface,  yet  it  is  still  more  real  and  honest  than  she  had  intended  to  confess.  She  steels  herself  inside  against  the  aches  of  the  past,  though  the  years  of  rage  and  sadness  and  loneliness  flash  in  her  emeralds.  But  it  is  easy  enough  to  distract  herself  from  that  as  Doreah  guides  her  hand  along  her  waist,  less  tentative  as  her  palm  caresses  the  Lyseni's  smooth  skin.  It  is  a  weakness  to  want  in  such  a  way  that  overwhelms  her,  to  risk  her  reputation  if  they  are  discovered,  but  she  cannot  stop  herself.  Her  breath  hitches  as  she  feels  Doreah's  pour  hot  against  her  ear,  the  cool  night's  air  brushing  over  her  skin  as  her  own  robe  begins  to  slip  away  beneath  the  other's  touch.

ㅤㅤㅤAs  Doreah  steps  closer,  Cersei  finds  herself  welcoming  her  presence,  her  hands  becoming  more  explorative  as  they  roam  over  the  Lyseni's  curves  beneath  her  robe.  Head  turns,  finally  meeting  her  eyes  again  as  she  speaks.  ❝ No.  Stay.  ❞  She  pulls  Doreah  closer  by  her  waist,  pressing  her  body  against  her  own.  Her  defenses  finally  allowed  to  fall,  she  lets  her  desire  show  in  her  eyes  as  she  holds  the other's  gaze,  leaning  closer  until  their  lips  brush,  then  captures  them  in  a  slow,  passionate  kiss.  A  hand  raises,  stroking  a  digit  against  another  exposed  string  of  pearls  as  her  lips  hover  against  Doreah's.  ❝ Let  me  see  you.  ❞

[d0reah]

what if i told you. . .i wanna write filth.

[d0reah]

@herdragcnfire asked: you were the only person i could go to.

Doreah   stood   by   the   window,   her   fingers   grazing   the   delicate   fabric   of   her   gown,   the   soft   Lyseni   silk   barely   brushing   her   skin.   The   air   of   Meereen   was   heavy   with   heat   and   the   distant   hum   of   the   city   below.   She   had   never   quite   grown   accustomed   to   the   way   the   walls   seemed   to   press   inward   in   these   palaces,   so   unlike   the   open   courtyards   and   salt-kissed   air   of   Lys.   The   words   hung   in   the   air   between   them,   softer   than   a   whisper   yet   heavier   than   any   proclamation   from   the   Iron   Throne.

For   a   moment,   Doreah   said   nothing,   her   violet   eyes   searching   Daenerys'   face.   The   queen—her   queen—looked   fragile   in   that   moment,   her   silver   hair   disheveled,   her   expression   clouded   with   something   Doreah   rarely   saw   in   her:   vulnerability.   Doreah   stepped   closer,   her   footsteps   quiet   against   the   cool   stone   floor.   "You   honor   me   with   your   trust,   Khaleesi,"   she   said,   her   voice   steady   though   her   heart   fluttered   beneath   her   ribs.   Trust.   It   was   a   currency   more   valuable   than   gold,   and   in   this   world,   more   dangerous   to   give   than   to   take.

Doreah   wanted   to   say   so   many   things,   but   she   held   her   tongue.   There   were   rules   to   their   roles,   unspoken   boundaries   that   could   not   be   crossed   even   in   moments   like   these.   Instead,   she   knelt   before   her   queen,   her   hands   clasped   lightly   in   her   lap.   "I   see   you   for   what   you   are,"   Doreah   said,   her   voice   barely   above   a   murmur.   "A   woman   who   has   borne   the   weight   of   the   world   and   still   stands."

She   held   her   queen’s   gaze   and   said,   "I   will   be   whatever   you   need,   Khaleesi.   Always."   A   smile   upon   her   lips   then   as   she   squeezes   Daenerys'   hand.   "Say   what's   on   your   mind."

[d0reah]

Doreah   felt   the   cool   night   air   on   her   flushed   skin,   her   senses   heightened   as   the   chaos   of   the   camp   faded   into   the   background.   The   Dothraki   horde   and   their   newfound   companions   were   still   roaring   with   laughter,   their   voices   mixing   with   the   distant   beats   of   drums   and   the   flicker   of   firelight,   but   all   of   it   seemed   like   a   distant   hum   compared   to   the   closeness   of   Daario   Naharis.

With   Daario,   there   was   something   different—something   untamed   and   unpredictable.,   where   she   could   no   longer   need   to   use   all   the   tools   she   learned   to   entince   him.   At   least   not   know.   He   was   all   sharp   edges   and   roguish   smiles,   a   tempest   wrapped   in   a   mercenary’s   charm,   and   she   knew   better   than   to   think   she   had   any   hold   over   him.   Yet   tonight,   his   attention   was   hers,   his   hunger   insatiable   and   singular.

As   his   lips   trailed   along   her   neck,   leaving   a   searing   trail   of   heat   in   their   wake,   Doreah   allowed   herself   a   rare   moment   of   surrender.   Her   fingers   tangled   in   his   hair,   the   dark   locks   slipping   through   her   grasp   as   she   tilted   her   head   back,   giving   him   better   access   to   the   sensitive   skin   beneath   her   ear.   She   bit   her   lip,   holding   back   a   moan   as   his   teeth   grazed   her   collarbone.   Her   lips   curved   into   a   faint   smile,   though   her   gaze   was   steady,   sharp   even,   as   their   eyes   met.   “Perhaps   it’s   you   who’s   feeling   their   spirit,”   she   countered,   her   voice   soft   but   laced   with   a   challenge.

Doreah   had   learned   that   men   like   Daario   thrived   on   games,   on   words   that   danced   just   as   provocatively   as   bodies.   Her   body   adjusted   to   the   new   position,   grinding   hips   against   his   growing   sensation   she   feels   between   her   legs.   When   he   laid   her   down   on   the   fur-strewn   floor   of   the   small   tent,   she   briefly   wondered   who   it   belonged   to.   It   hardly   mattered;   privacy   was   a   rarity   here,   and   tonight   was   not   a   night   for   questions.

As   his   hands   roamed   over   her   body,   pulling   at   her   dress   and   leaving   her   bare   to   the   cool   night   air,   she   couldn’t   help   the   soft   laugh   that   escaped   her   lips.   “So   eager,”   but   her   breath   hitched   as   his   mouth   found   her   breast,   his   touch   skilled   and   relentless.   Her   laughter   gave   way   to   a   low   moan,   her   nails   digging   into   his   shoulders   as   he   continued   his   ministrations.

Doreah   was   no   stranger   to   passion,   nor   to   the   desires   of   men,   but   Daario   had   a   way   of   making   her   feel   as   though   the   rest   of   the   world   didn’t   exist   when   he   was   near.   It   was   intoxicating,   this   dance   between   them—dangerous   in   its   intensity   and   fleetingness.   She   would   let   herself   drown   in   him,   in   the   taste   of   wine   and   salt   on   his   lips,   in   the   heat   of   his   skin   against   hers,   in   the   wild,   reckless   moment   that   was   theirs   alone.   Her   body   shift   under   his   own,   hands   reaching   to   the   hem   of   his   shirt   to   push   it   off   his   shoulders,   down   the   frame   of   his   body.   "You   would   like   that,   don't   you?   that   everyone   knew   who   I   belong   to."

᯽⊱ @d0reah ⊱ i'm serious - right here, right now. - daario

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐘  𝐈𝐒  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈  𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒.  He's  never  seen  a  more  raucous  gathering  in  his  life,  the  entirety  of  the  horde  joining  in  merriment  with  the  Stormcrows,  the  Second  Sons,  and  even  the  Unsullied.  Normally  Daario  would  be  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  but  something  far  more  important  has  occupied  him  this  evening.  In  the  shadows  behind  the  tents,  he  holds  beauty  in  his  hands,  painting  a  necklace  of  blooming  red  along  her  neck  with  an  eager  mouth.  Her  velvet  lips,  turned  red  by  his  fervent  kisses.  Her  hair,  like  spun  gold  as  his  fingers  weave  through  the  moonlit  strands.  She  tastes  like  berries  and  wine  this  evening,  of  the  citrus  and  honey  and  mulled  spices  from  the  queen's  table.  He  can  smell  the  sea  upon  her  skin,  and  the  perfumes  of  her  bath,  as  familiar  to  him  now  as  it  is  intoxicating.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Feeling  the  Dothraki  spirit  tonight,  are  we?  ❞  Daario  chuckles  against  the  hollow  of  her  neck.  He  only  realizes  just  how  serious  Doreah  is  when  he  lifts  his  head  and  meets  her  eyes  again,  his  blue  eyes  darkening  as  he  straightens  his  posture.  Callused  hands  slip  down  her  body,  sinking  beneath  her  hips  to  lift  her  into  his  arms,  pulling  her  thighs  around  his  waist.  ❝ Maybe  I  should  take  you  back  to  the  middle  of  the  feast  and  have  you  right  there  in  front  of  everyone.  It's  the  Dothraki  way  isn't  it?  ❞  he  teases,  but  instead  carries  her  a  few  steps  away  into  the  nearest  open  tent,  laying  her  down  upon  the  furs  inside.  It's  only  a  small  sleeping  tent,  and  he  hasn't  the  slightest  idea  who  it  belongs  to,  but  it  will  have  to  suffice.  Daario  doesn't  bother  closing  the  way  behind  them,  admiring  how  the  moonlight  illuminates  Doreah  through  the  wide  opening  of  the  canvas.

ㅤㅤㅤThe  sellsword  captures  Doreah's  lips  hungrily  as  he  settles  between  her  legs,  his  hips  grinding  forward  against  the  friction  of  their  clothes.  Impatient  hands  pull  her  skirts  out  of  the  way,  repeating  the  motion  to  let  her  feel  him  grow  stiff  through  the  confinement  of  his  breeches.  He  takes  hold  of  the  top  of  her  dress  next,  pulling  down  the  bustier  so  that  his  mouth  may  lay  claim  to  her  breasts,  brushing  his  tongue  along  a  delicate  bud  as  digits  slip  beneath  the  strings  of  pearls  that  adorn  her  frame  to  touch  her  bare  skin.  ❝ I'll  make  sure  they  hear  you,  at  least.  ❞

[d0reah]

She   had   chosen   her   robe   carefully,   its   Lyseni   silk   whispering   over   her   skin,   parting   enough   to   reveal   hints   of   the   pearls   that   adorned   her   body.   She   knew   the   effect   this   would   have,   knew   the   power   she   wielded   in   such   moments.   Cersei’s   voice,   cold   and   restrained,   reached   her,   but   Doreah   saw   beyond   it.   The   flicker   in   the   queen’s   emerald   eyes   betrayed   her,   as   did   the   way   her   breath   hitched   ever   so   slightly   when   Doreah   took   a   single   step   into   the   room.

Doreah   had   not   been   born   into   power,   but   she   had   learned   to   recognize   it   in   all   its   forms—and   to   seize   it   when   the   opportunity   arose.   The   Queen   Regent   of   the   Seven   Kingdoms   was   no   different   from   the   men   she   had   encountered   in   the   pleasure   houses   of   Lys,   all   power   and   pride,   but   craving   submission   in   secret.   Cersei   Lannister   might   command   armies   and   whisper   orders   that   shaped   the   realm,   but   here,   with   Doreah   standing   before   her,   the   queen's   strength   faltered.

"I   ask,"   Doreah   began,   her   voice   soft   and   melodic,   "because   I   wish   to   understand   what   keeps   you   chained,   even   in   your   own   chambers."   She   let   her   robe   slip   a   little   further,   her   bare   shoulder   catching   the   light.   She   tilted   her   head,   feigning   innocence.   "You   speak   of   duty,   of   reputation.   But   what   does   your   heart   say,   Your   Grace?"   The   silence   stretched,   heavy   with   unspoken   words.   Doreah   stepped   closer,   the   pearls   brushing   against   her   skin   as   they   swayed.   When   Cersei’s   hand   rose,   tentative   and   hesitant,   to   rest   against   her   hip,   Doreah   allowed   herself   a   smile—a   slow,   knowing   curve   of   her   lips   that   spoke   of   both   victory   and   seduction.   She   placed   her   hand   over   Cersei’s,   guiding   it   along   the   curve   of   her   waist.   "Perhaps."

Doreah   leaned   closer,   her   breath   warm   against   Cersei’s   ear   as   she   whispered,   her   hands   moving   to   the   silk   material   of   the   queen's   robe,   hands   sneaking   through   to   reveal   skin.   "You   are   so   afraid   of   being   weak,   but   tell   me—does   this   feel   like   weakness   to   you?"   She   moved   closer,   unhurried,   as   if   each   step   was   measured   to   test   how   far   she   could   push   before   the   lioness   roared.   “Shall   I   go?”

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐈  𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒  𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄  𝐀  𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐘.  So  beautiful,  and  so  very  dangerous,  as  the  Queen  Regent  has  come  to  learn.  She  should  not  allow  her  to  approach,  knowing  how  this  ended  the  last  time  they  were  alone  in  her  chambers  at  such  an  hour.  What  happened  between  them  was  a  mistake.  A  failing  of  Cersei's  willpower  in  a  charged  moment.  It  cannot  happen  again.  So  why,  then,  does  she  let  Doreah  draw  nearer  at  all?  Why  does  she  dare  speak  of  want  in  her  presence  when  the  other  can  so  easily  turn  it  against  her?

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Things  are  different  here.  No  one  gets  to  have  what  they  want.  Not  if  you're  a  woman.  Especially  not  if  you're  a  queen.  ❞  Cersei  holds  her  composure,  keeping  her  stone  facade,  though  there  is  something  sad  beneath  her  eyes  as  she  speaks.  It's  a  truth  she  has  always  known,  that  what  she  wants  does  not  matter.  Not  in  this  place.  Not  back  at  home  in  Casterly  Rock.  Not  anywhere.  There  are  already  enough  rumors  about  the  queen's  private  affairs  to  disgrace  her  in  the  minds  of  any  who  will  believe  them.  What  more  will  they  say  if  they  hear  of  this?  If  they  knew  their  queen  had  let  her  enemy's  handmaid  seduce  her?  How  readily  she  let  Doreah  have  her  way  with  her,  how  Cersei  cried  her  name  as  she  showed  her  a  type  of  pleasure  she  had  never  known  before.  Gods,  it  would  ruin  her.  She  can  already  imagine  how  her  father's  eyes  would  burn  through  to  her  soul,  how  the  imp  would  snicker.  They'll  all  use  it  as  proof  that  she  is  unfit,  that  she  is  weak  of  will  and  defective,  and  she  cannot  allow  that  to  happen.

ㅤㅤㅤSo  why  won't  she  do  what  she  must  and  send  her  away?  If  this  is  a  trap,  then  the  lioness  has  walked  into  it  with  eyes  wide  open.  Perhaps  she  is  a  fool  for  letting  it  get  this  far.  Perhaps  there  is  something  wrong  with  her.  But  gods,  she  cannot  bring  herself  to  stop  this.  When  the  Lyseni's  robe  slips  away,  Cersei  turns  her  head  away  in  reflex,  blinking  through  a  deep  inhale.  When  her  gaze  turns  back  to  Doreah,  it  does  so  slowly,  starting  at  the  floor  between  them  and  crawling  up  her  frame inch by inch,  taking  in  the  sight  of  her in those sensual  pearls.  By  the  time  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  Lyseni's  again,  her  facade  has  fractured,  her  once-cold  eyes  now  burning  with  something  she  dares  not  name.  You,  she  almost  answers  her,  but  the  word  remains  captive  behind  a  lip  that  trembles  for  the  briefest  moment.  I  want  you.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Why  do  you  ask?  ❞  Cersei  avoids  a  true  answer,  and  she  finds  herself  reaching  unbidden,  tentatively  resting  her  hands  against  the  sides  of  the  other's  hips.  She  is  the  queen,  and  Doreah  is  but  a  handmaid.  A  political  captive,  no  less.  But  in  here,  the  lines  are  blurred  beyond  recognition,  and  she  is  not  the  one  who  rules.  Even  now  she  cannot  help  but  wonder,  is  she  the  predator  or  the  prey?  She  steps  closer,  a  hand  tracing  fingertips  over  the  strings  of  pearls  that  adorn  the  Lyseni's  body.  ❝ Did  you  come  to  tempt  me?  ❞

[d0reah]

doreah does have an inherited fear she hides well of people judging her for her profession and how, well, she enjoys it greatly. she does not feel shame about how she feels and how it all feels and encouraging others, but the world of westeros is not lys and in general, she does feel she is judged for her sexually active she is and how liberated she feels about it. for her, a psychical connection is as important as an emotional one. if she ever were to have a steady relationship, she would fear that they will make her quit her profession or judge her past of it.

[d0reah]

Chloe Rose Robertson icons

‒ like or reblog if you save