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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.

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Daenerys shivered, her entire body seeming to react to Margaery's touch. "I -- I would like -- that," she breathed out, one of her hands flying to grip the bedcovers. "Very -- oh -- very much."

But she hadn't expected Margaery's fingers in her mouth, and that almost startled her, though not in a negative way by any means. Instinctively, she sucked the taste away, only a moment later registering that it was her own and going red at the thought of it.

And then, then she got lost in the feel of Margaery's tongue and lips against her flesh.

She smiled against her flesh, sucking and licking any bit she could get to before Margaery's tongue pressed aside her folds and began gently rubbing the nub there as well.

She managed a quick look up at Daenerys after her fingers were in her mouth because she had a wonderful tongue, and Margaery began to imagine what that tongue would feel like on her own body. Pressing that thought aside, she went back to work to rousing Daenerys, trying to make her flush more.

"Gods, Margaery," Daenerys breathed out, bucking her hips. "Keep... keep doing that, that's..."

Perfect, is what it was, but even in her distracted state she knew better than to say that. She wasn't sure how they would progress beyond this moment, but she didn't want to spoil it in any way and was determined not to. And she would be happy to reciprocate once she realized she ought to, that just very much had not happened yet.

Instead, she dug one heel into the mattress, just focused on the feel of Margaery's tongue.

Margaery was thinking the same thing, how perfect Daenerys tasted and calling out to the gods in her own mind.

She was simply too fixated on Danaerys to lift her head and mouth her own responses, though, except for a moan against the flesh there that tasted so good and vibrated everything.

She pulled both hands back down and placed them on her thighs, spreading her wider, more open to her tongue. Then as she licked one part of her, Margaery slipped a fingers down Daenerys' slit, using both tongue and finger to stimulate her.

"Seven hells," Daenerys gasped, the words coming out near a whisper. "You're so beautiful, Margaery."

That came out before she could stop it, but all considered that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, should it have. She wanted to make Margaery feel as nice as Margaery was making her feel, and the only way she could do that right now was with compliments. Many, many compliments.

Well, that and her physical reactions, the way she moved in every way that Margaery suggested and moaned approvingly each time.

The compliment froze Margaery and she came up for a breath, panting. "So... so are you," she said in response, and wondered what she could do to really show Daenerys that.

She climbed up her body and pressed her own against Daenerys, then without licking her lips kissed her, swirling her tongue inside of her mouth as one hand kept up the stimulation her mouth had started while the other one lightly stroked her hair.

She wanted her to know it was more than just sex.

The message hit Daenerys very clearly, and while it was true in her case as well (she likely couldn't have done this if it wasn't) it came as something of a surprise to her.

She dragged her tongue over Margaery's lips, reached one hand to settle on Margaery's waist. "Thank you," she murmured, and it was for so much more than just the compliment. She let the fingers of that hand lightly trace circles on Margaery's skin, slow and reverent.

Margaery moaned against Daenerys and her entire body writhed, too, once she felt the fingers on her skin. For someone who supposedly wasn't so open about these things, Daenerys certainly seemed to know how to make a woman shudder until she was nearly begging for more.

And then, she couldn't help it. She did bed.

"Oh seven hells, Daenerys, please," was all she could say as her hips tried to meet Daenerys'.

Instinct, perhaps; she had known only one lover before, and him only briefly, but with Margaery, it was easy to do just what felt good to her, what she thought might feel good. Matching their reactions, as it were.

"Of course," Daenerys exclaimed, biting her lip and pressing Margaery closer to her. "You're... I just want to please you, as you are doing for me." The words came out in a rush, soft and almost sheepish, but she saw no point in stopping herself from saying them.

"Tell me," she added, a bit more firmly. "Tell me what you like."

"You, I like you," she answered automatically before realizing that this wasn't perhaps the answer Daneerys was seeking from her. Margaery bit her lip and let her hands touch soft skin and then she told her, "You are pleasing me, already. You don't need to do anything more than that, than be yourself with me."

But perhaps she'd meant some guidance? "My hair, my breasts, your fingers and tongue on my body until I shudder from want..."

She moved her legs open, wrapping them with Daenerys' legs too. "Anything you wish."

Immediately, one of Daenerys' hands moved to Margaery's breast, thumbing her nipple slowly and gently, and she lifted her head to press lips to Margaery's throat. "Like this?" she whispered, smiling coyly.

"I should say," she added after a moment, "that I... I like you as well. Very much. You're beautiful and, and... enchanting."

She wasn't sure quite if that was the appropriate thing to say, but she couldn't help it.

Margaery groaned as soon as Daenerys began playing with her breast enough that she arched into her hand, the tips turning into sharp points and then...

"Seven hells," she whispered as she felt lips against her throat and Margaery wondered exactly how much experience Daenerys had at this, after all.

She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly (not that anyone would likely hear), and then smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "As are you, and... oh..."

It must be true what they say about Daenerys and her ability to turn anyone she wants under her spell. Of course, Margaery didn't wish to be anywhere else.

Daenerys knew the rumors. She was, depending on the storyteller, any variant of coy seductress versed in all manner of things, a not-quite-just-human temptress with all the mystery and allure of her Valyrian blood. These rumors were naturally untrue, in that she was much less wanton and worldly, but to know that Margaery felt her so-called draw would flatter her.

"Oh," Daenerys agreed. She rutted against Margaery lightly, biting her own lip before leaning to bite Margaery's shoulder. "Is that...?"

She blinked her eyes, trying to understand exactly what it was that Daenerys was asking her. Once Margaery figured it out, she smiled and cupped Daenerys' face, nodding.

"Oh... oh yes it is."

And truly, did anything else need to be said other than that?

Daenerys nodded before she moved to nip at Margaery's shoulder once more, then let her mouth trail up Margaery's neck, placing kisses and occasionally gentle nips along the skin.

She'd been looking for a way to please Margaery, so she would be eager to hear how this would serve.

"You honor me," she whispered.

Margaery shook her head at her. "No... I'm afraid it's the other way 'round."

She groaned and moved her body each time Daenerys left little trails of fire on her skin, wet and teasing, and then her hands tried to hold onto Daenerys or the bedsheets or something else to keep her from writhing far too much as her eyes shut tightly in pleasure.

And she had not even nipped at her lips, breasts, or any other sensitive skin yet...

"Perhaps it could be both?" she offered with a faint smile. That seemed an important element to her, mutuality.

She took a deep breath before she angled to move her attentions down Margaery's body, over her collarbone and toward her breasts. She felt that charge, too, that heat that coursed through them both, and she wanted more of it. She didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Gods, Daenerys, yes," she hissed out in pleasure and Margaery's hands sought Daenerys' hair or head or anything she could possibly use to hang on for support.

She was biting her lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but gave up finally and begged, "Please" when she felt her wet lips move toward her own breasts. She needed to feel her mouth surrounding them.

Normally, Margaery would love to be the one in control but there was something... special about this sort of give-and-take instead.

Give-and-take was the only thing Daenerys knew, when it came to lovemaking; the little sorts of things that showed that even if one party was in control the other could and would take over soon. Both of them looking out for the other's interest.

She hummed against the dip between Margaery's breasts, nuzzling for a moment before she turned her attention to the curve of one, licking over it and kissing, gently and then not so very gentle at all.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for sharing your beauty with me."

Her hands were tangled into the silvery hair and she pulled on them, then pressed Daenerys against her breasts as she arched her back so she could get more of her mouth.

Margaery could not help the hiss that left her lips when Daenerys' attentions became not-so-gentle. "Oh... yes..."

She loved a little bit of pain mixed with pleasure, and Daenerys was providing that in spades. "Seven hells, yes, please, more..."

Margaery's fingers tightened in her hair again. "Thank you..." She wasn't sure for what, entirely, but she knew she needed to at least thank her.

Daenerys moaned, nipping at Margaery's flesh and running her tongue all over it, savoring the sweet taste. "You're impeccable," she murmured before she even had a chance. "Your skin is so..."

But whatever it was, Daenerys apparently took some pleasure in altering it, calling up a flush and leaving little marks all over. Carefully, of course, but very definitely.

"Ah..." was all Margaery could say once she felt the marks on her skin, smiling and loving the very thought that she would have reminders of this moment with Daenerys on her body.

"More," she nearly growled in response, her fingers tightening in her hair as she bucked upward against Daenerys each time her lips touched a new spot.

Then she felt bad for a moment and hastily added, "Please."

Oh, Daenerys was being careful with her marks -- she knew how many of Margaery's dresses were cut, and knew to avoid marking places that might be seen, but she was getting a bit drunk on the power of leaving spots on Margaery's flawless skin.

"Of course," she breathed out, insistent and sweet around Margaery's nipple. "Many more."

She nodded her head and hissed at the feeling, not because it hurt overly much but because they were from Daenerys. She might have said her name a few times, and soon enough Margaery was bucking against her, needing more.

"Please... lower," she asked, because Daenerys' soft tongue and insistent mouth were driving her mad.

The request caught Daenerys off-guard, and she couldn't help but to stare up in awe. "Lower," she repeated, gazing down Margaery's body.

She didn't want to be a disappointment. That was what she wanted the very least in the world at this moment.