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.
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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"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."
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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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"Oh," Daenerys agreed. She rutted against Margaery lightly, biting her own lip before leaning to bite Margaery's shoulder. "Is that...?"
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"Oh... oh yes it is."
And truly, did anything else need to be said other than that?
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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.
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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...
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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"Of course," she breathed out, insistent and sweet around Margaery's nipple. "Many more."
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"Please... lower," she asked, because Daenerys' soft tongue and insistent mouth were driving her mad.
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She didn't want to be a disappointment. That was what she wanted the very least in the world at this moment.
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"Never... never mind, it's quite alright if you don't want to, it's only that you feel so amazing doing everything and I suppose I'm rather selfish in wanting more from you. Forgive me, please?"
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A sigh. She wasn't used to admitting vulnerability and meaning it; if she did, it was more often than not a defense mechanism, not a genuine confession. But right now, that seemed important.
"I only hesitate because I don't know if I would be able to please you so," she finally added, her voice all but a whisper.
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"You please me greatly, Daenerys. I've no idea why you think you don't, but seven hells, you do. I'm the one who is worried about pleasing you properly."
She let her face go and brushed aside a silver strand of hair gently. "Let's trust each other now."
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After all, her only sexual experience previous to this had been with someone who, though lovely, was very definitely not a woman. It was a different skillset, she assumed.
"But," she added, eyes brightening, "I would like that. Trusting."
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Margaery smiled and nodded her head. "Let me show you, then."
She switched positions with her, then spread Daenerys' legs open. Maergery let her tongue slide down her skin, lower until she could spread open her flesh and then flattened her tongue to rub against the softness to taste her.
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"Let me try," she demanded. "I don't want to be selfish."
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"Of course," she panted, "though I would never call you selfish.I will tell you, though, that you taste absolutely divine..."
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So very carefully she leaned to trail her lips down over Margaery's belly, looking up with wide eyes.
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