theatrum | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

King's Landing had not truly suited Daenerys when she was half-welcome there, and it suited her even less in the time that had followed Ned Stark's execution. He had been her only protector (and perhaps a grudging one at that) and his guardianship of her the only thing keeping her from being turned fully into the pawn she so dreaded being. It wasn't, she supposed, quite so horrible as the situation poor Sansa found herself in: she had gone through as many horrible things as balanced out the lovely ones she'd been promised when her family was still in the Baratheons' and Lannisters' good graces. She had never been in anyone's good graces, she had been in part a prisoner from the start, now the keys had just been given to a different, admittedly crueler, jailer.

It had always been hers to be polite and demure and apologetic, prove that her blood did not define her loyalty. It had always been hers to pretend where that loyalty did lie (and she had never truly been bothered by the Starks, they had always been, if not warm, then decent to her, but the withering glances she got at court -- to say nothing of the wild-eyed lustful ones -- were not a surprise either, and were not so hard to deflect). She had always been treated with suspicion, she had always been moved around. The talk nowadays was of marrying her off to a lord of the Lannisters' choosing, someone true to them who would temper any mild rebellious instincts that may appear (Lord Eddard had always been wary of allowing this, but now he could not stop it).

Until she was played, though, she stayed at court with the others. She wasn't often allowed to be properly alone, and she wasn't often allowed to keep private company with Sansa (who knew what they, daughters of a traitor and a madman, would dream up if unsupervised). She wasn't pampered (she was never pampered) but she wasn't kept uncomfortably. She also wasn't ignorant, though she was good at playing that up. As such, she knew it was only a matter of time before she received an invitation to be entertained by the new queen-to-be, the lithe and beautiful Rose of Highgarden.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No," Daenerys said immediately. "I mean -- no, don't... don't stop."

A long pause. She could only imagine all of the ways this could go wrong, everything they'd be made to deal with if they were caught, all of the scorn they would face and especially in her case the chastisement and worse, but right now? She couldn't bring herself to care.

It was foolish, but it was inevitable.

"Please," she whispered, softer and more careful. "Keep going."

Margaery breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "If my Lady so commands me," she whispered with a quirk of her lips before her hand pushed at the fabric between Daenerys' thighs again and began rubbing, harder this time.

Her mouth moved to those lips, so soft and inviting, and while the thought occured to her that no, she should not be doing this and perhaps not here, that thought was pushed aside in favor of tasting Daenerys again. Already jealous of the "other" she'd spoken of, hoping to bring a little of the blush to her cheeks somehow.

Margaery's hands worked on the gown, pulling it up Daenery's legs until bare skin was showing, and then she pressed her hand back inside to play, tease, and explore.

She didn't mind it, she'd asked for it to continue, but that sudden boldness on Margaery's part took her entirely by surprise. Somehow she'd expected that the other woman's hands would... well, that they wouldn't move straight to that. Not that she was opposed, she just was starting to worry that her experience was considerably less than might have suited.

"Margaery..."

She must have looked so frightened in that moment, her eyes wide and her mouth fallen open entirely. But this was still rather a new experience, and -- oh, her legs were exposed and Margaery was teasing her and it was a little too much to bear.

She saw the look and stopped again, worried as she pulled slightly away from Daenerys. Mentally, she cursed her family. The members of her family always were too bold, too willing to explore and experience new things.

"I... I apologize," she whispered as her hands tried to right Daanerys' skirts, and she resisted the urge to lick her fingers clean.

Her eyes moved away and stared absently at the food on her plate - perhaps she'd read the signals wrong. Perhaps Daenerys did not actually want this and she was only interested in experimenting. Something "fun" that could be chalked up to youth.

"It must be the wine," she said by way of excuse, finally brushing her own hair away from her face, still refusing to look at the beautiful woman beside her.

It was, for lack of a more reasonable explanation, more complicated than that. Daenerys wanted -- oh, how she wanted -- but she was skittish to say the least. She'd known one almost-love, but most of her experience in this regard was decidedly lacking (most of her experience with romance was men muttering innuendos at her as she passed, sometimes daring to reach to touch her if she got too close but no more than that). She was frightened because she still only knew Margaery the little bit, still couldn't be sure, but -- maybe that wasn't important.

"Don't be sorry," she implored, still staring with those wide eyes. "It's not... I'm interested in the same thing you are, I think, I just..."

A frown, and Daenerys wrung her hands. "I don't want to disappoint," she finally finished, which wasn't all of the truth but was a part of it.

"I don't see how you could." Margaery said it as gently as possible, a small hope bubbling from within that she hadn't just made a complete and utter fool of herself.

She poured out more wine for them both, not touching Daenerys at all. "Perhaps we should start over. Some wine and maybe... Somewhere else that isn't so public?"

It was a rather silly notion, she figured, but she was willing to give it one more chance.

Sent from my iPhone

Daenerys could think of at least four different ways she could off the top of her head, but she wasn't going to get into it and seem as if she was begging for pity (she'd already done that so many times in their short meeting, she felt). Instead, she pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Some wine," she agreed after a moment. "And I... a change of location would do wonders, I think."

After all, so many of her worries could be alleviated by knowing there was an even better chance nobody would disturb them.

Margaery nodded and thought to herself, finally deciding on the quarters she had been given. No one would enter unless she asked them, and honestly she could not think of any other place that would afford them the privacy.

"Follow me." There was a small smile on her lips as she extended a hand to help her stand, before she let go so Daenerys could simply follow.

Once they were in her quarters and the door was locked, she was nearly breathless. She needed to let the other woman take the lead. "Well. Here we are."

Daenerys followed behind as asked, keeping a couple of feet between them out of both a certain deference that had been ingrained in her and also from the sudden sense that if she was any closer she'd be tempted to reach again for the other woman's hand or do something else that might cause trouble.

But once the door was closed, she was all smiles, her heart fluttering in a much more pleasant way.

"Here we are," she repeated in a near whisper, stepping as close to Margaery as she'd wanted to in the corridor.

There was a small sigh of relief from Margaery as soon as Danaerys stepped closer, and she ended up bridging the gap between them, reaching out a hand to stroke the silver hair in admiration.

It was the smile on her face that truly put Margaery at ease finally, and she returned it in kind.

"May I... kiss you?" Perhaps by starting over, by asking instead of assuming, things would be better.

Daenerys' breath caught when Margaery reached to touch her -- soft, tender, it was something she'd not thought to find with anyone in this city, truthfully. Even if the circumstances were, like this one, nontraditional at best and something that required more concern than she cared to give right now at worst.

But Margaery was sweet. Margaery was someone that she -- not trusted exactly but also she didn't not trust her -- Margaery was worth it, at least possibly.

"You may," Daenerys murmured, making a point to keep eye contact.

She nodded her her once, then closed the gap and gently brushed her lips against Daenerys to and fro, not trying to take anything more from her or to push. She had done that just recently, after all, and it had not gone over well.

When she pulled back, Margaery looked at Danaerys and wondered what the other woman was thinking or feeling. Instead, all she said was, "Was that... acceptable?"

A bad turn of phrase, she corrected herself immediately, but she was uncertain how they were to proceed.

Daenerys was blushing again, but for an entirely different reason this time: she could feel Margaery, confident and pretty Margaery, getting nervous alongside her and that had been the last thing she wanted. (Truthfully, she'd hoped that once they were alone Margaery's confidence would grow.)

So -- all right. It was time to get a bit more confident herself.

She let a hand drift to Margaery's waist, chanced a smirk. "You're being modest," she murmured.

Truthfully, Margaery would have grown more confident normally but Daenerys' reactions to her earlier efforts had put her out of sorts. She did not wish to make a mistake with the lovely woman at all.

Once the hand was at her waist and the words spoke, though, Margaery sighed and smiled in relief. She gave Daenerys a rather flirtatious smirk in return and answered, "Perhaps I am, but so are you."

Her own hand wrapped around Danaerys' waist and Margaery moved to kiss her again, this time using her lips, teeth, and tongue.

She let out a soft sigh of surprise at the kiss, not because it was actually surprising but because -- well, it was deeper than the others had been. She only hoped she was returning it adequately.

"Perhaps it is not modesty, but nerves," Daenerys suggested once the kiss had broken, her expression rather shy. "In my case, that is." To say nothing of who Margaery was, what connections she held that could make this encounter difficult to say the least, there was the fact that she was quite clearly worldlier than Daenerys herself.

Another moment passed before she murmured, "Ought we to get more comfortable?"

"We ought to, yes."

And knowing that Daernerys was nervous, Mrgaery decided the best course of action would be the one to initiate things once more. She stepped away slowly and began undoing the lacings on her dress, until the entire thing fell to her feel and she was left only in her shift.

Margaery smiled and grasped Daenerys' hand, placing it over the swell of her own breast and sighing. "Your touch... feels wonderful," she complimented as she removed hairpins to allow her tresses to fall down completely.

Daenerys let out a soft gasp at the -- the forwardness of that. It was very much what the situation called for, and she couldn't say it didn't thrill her, the sight of Margaery all unfinished and the glorious soft feel of her.

"I'm glad," she whispered, before she could think better of it adding, "I can imagine how touching you would quickly become one of a person's favorite things."

Shyly, then, she reached her free hand to her own hair, tugging at the twists and braids carefully.

Margaery's hand wound itself into Daenerys' hair, not tugging too hard (just yet) but enjoying the feel.

She pressed her breast further into Daenerys' hand, sighing at the feel of her fingers through her shift. "You can touch me as much as you'd like to." There was a slight pause before she added...

"Please."

Daenerys had never quite understood the fascination that seemed to surround breasts. She liked having her own played with, but she had never exactly understood what was so mysterious about them. Now, though, with Margaery's in her hand all she could do was thank the gods that the hand in her hair was keeping her from doing something absurd like dropping and pressing kisses to Margaery's flesh.

Instead, she moved closer. "Would you undress me?" she asked in a whisper.

That both would keep things at Margaery's pace and would give Daenerys a chance to be admired well and truly that she had long been missing.

Margaery gave a slight nod before she moved both hands to Daenerys' dress and started loosening the stays. Inch by inch, the beautiful skin appeared before her and Margaery took in a deep breath.

Gods, how she wanted to touch and kiss all of that bare skin immediately, but she waited until Daenerys was naked.

One hand touched the top of a breast and another was resting on the flat plane of her stomach. "May I... may I touch you more?" She wished to be careful with her, but by the gods, she also wanted to fall to her knees and begin licking the soft flesh between her thighs.

Daenerys shivered a bit as Margaery started to work at her clothing, but she was sure to keep up a slight smile in the interest of reassuring Margaery that they were positive shivers. She was happy, she just hadn't been touched like this in some time.

She'd barely even been touched like this at all, and a part of her felt like perhaps she shouldn't want it now, but she very much did.

She took in a breath when Margaery's hand found her breast, offered the slightest of nods. "You may," she whispered.

Margaery's eyes flashed with thanks and a bit more confidence now that it seemed that Daenerys was more comfortable -- especially with how she was reacting to her touches.

Margaery squeezed her breast lightly, loving the fullness of it in her hand, and then she kissed the very tip of it before her tongue darted out.

After looking up at Daenerys, Margaery did sink to her knees and pressed a light kiss between her thighs, inhaling that wonderful scent.

Daenerys leaned into the other woman's touch and without thinking gaspied out, "Please!" Please what, it didn't really matter. Please keep touching her. Please keep up whatever this was, please don't let it become an unanswered question.

And when Margaery fell to her knees, Daenerys moaned, both in delight and surprise. Somehow she hadn't thought of that just now, but she entirely welcomed it.

"Please," she repeated, with more conviction this time.

Margaery didn't reply at all; she was too taken with Daenerys and pleasing her at the moment. Her tongue and mouth found new places on her skin to tease, and then Margaery's hands reaching behind to grab Daenerys' lovely arse and squeeze it.

That only caused Margaery to moan into the skin she was licking at the moment.

Please? Oh, yes, please, please more, please taste, please everything... please her. "You taste so wonderful," she said against her skin, her mouth not truly licking the area between her thighs just yet but Margaery was moving her way there. She wanted to press her tongue there and to lick gently of all her juices.

"Oh!" Daenerys moaned, one hand fisting in Margaery's hair unthinkingly and the other staying at her side for balance. She pressed her hips against Margaery's mouth, she sighed sharply and then covered her mouth with that free hand.

She was still struck with a fear of being discovered, admittedly, but she was farther and farther gone with interest in the situation and in Margaery.

"I won't -- I don't know if -- should we..." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm going weak in the knees." Should they move, is what she meant.