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- - -
"Out. All of you, out."
Even in the wake of new victory, Queen Cersei's bite remained sharp. For Ser Damon, it was amusing to see the small council learn this for themselves.
It was their own fault, truly. For all the time they spent in the presence of the Queen, they should have come to know when her patience was spent.
Ser Kevan Lannister, the Queen's more tempered uncle, Maester Pycelle, the aging lickspittle, and Lord Mace Tyrell, who still entertained delusions of arranging a marriage between Cersei and one of his sons - all targets of that sharp tongue Ser Damon had come to adore.
None were the sort of men used to enduring such ignominies - except perhaps for Pycelle - but Ser Damon watched them shuffle out of the small council chambers all the same. Each man met his eyes for a fleeting moment, each carrying the same look of barely concealed disdain. Oh, the indignity of being held lower than a woman and a bastard!
The next moment, only she and Damon remained. The Queen and her sworn sword, surrounded by silence. For a long moment, Ser Damon observed Cersei sitting at the head of the otherwise empty table, green eyes piercing into open space, musing, pondering.
"Do you wish to be alone, Your Grace?" He ventured to ask.
Green eyes flicked over to him, still sharp but growing just slightly brighter.
"No. Stay." The Queen seemed to consider something for a moment. "Go and lock the door. I will not have us disturbed."
"You would have words with me?" Ser Damon wondered aloud with faint mirth as he crossed over to the chamber doors.
"I would." Her voice didn't quite share his amusement, but it did hold some lightness. He turned the lock shut as commanded as his queen continued on. "I have come to realize just how important you have been to the strengthening of my rule. You have silenced dissenters, brought justice to traitors, and given counsel that has led me to victory."
Ser Damon bowed his head as he turned to face his queen.
"I have only spoken the truth as I know it, Your Grace."
That earned him the beginnings of a smile.
"I find your truth more pleasing than my Uncle Kevan's." The Queen kept her eyes fixed upon him, her fingertips drifting slowly over the table's surface. "You heard their wisdom, did you not? Restraint, they implore from me. Caution. Wait and see."
"They have their reasons for it, Your Grace." Ser Damon kept an even tone.
The Queen considered his words in silence for a time. Then, slowly, she rose from her seat. The afternoon sunlight poured in from the windows, making her golden hair shine, making her creamy skin glow. The red of her long, flowing dress burned like fire, her ample figure cast in a vibrant blaze. The lioness held her chin high and proud, emerald eyes catching the light as well. The shine danced there in those green pools, even as her gaze hardened.
"My crown. My throne. My kingdoms." Cersei's voice held an edge as sharp as Ser Damon's blade. "Those are all the reasons they need. I am queen by all the rights and laws in the realm, yet my rightful place is not secure. Enemies still work against me, here in Westeros and across the Narrow Sea. Plotting to take my crown, take my life, the same way they took my son's. My advisors push restraint when I require action. Caution will not keep my throne, Ser Damon. Bold measures will."
Ser Damon found himself standing straighter. He knew well by now the look upon Cersei's lovely face. The expectations were unspoken, but written clear as the gold upon the Lannister sigil.
"You have need of my sword again, my queen?"
"Later perhaps. This moment I would like to hear your words, Ser Damon." Cersei drew slowly around the edge of the table, drifting closer. The simple act of walking turned into a display of womanly grace, the long skirt of her dress catching the shape of her swaying hips. Like sails swept by the wind. "What wise counsel does the Red Keep's bravest and most loyal knight offer his queen?"
The allure of Cersei was strong as it ever was. Though even as Ser Damon admired her beauty, he managed some thoughts all the same.
After a moment of consideration, he answered.
"The Vale."
Cersei narrowed her eyes at him, her brow pinching some.
"You would have me attack the Vale of Arryn?"
"Not necessarily. Not when you could bring them into the fold instead." Cersei did not appear convinced, though neither did she appear averse. Ser Damon kept on. "The Ironborn have been quelled, they are no longer a threat. The Reachmen can be counted on to oppose Stannis Baratheon. And Stannis took near all the strength of the Stormlands to the North. Your brother is bringing the Riverlands to heel and Dorne does not have the strength to rebel against the Iron Throne. That leaves us with the Vale."
Cersei pursed her lips, digesting Damon's counsel in silence. Slowly, her features twisted into distaste.
"The Vale ignored all calls to service when Robb Stark rode south and declared rebellion against my son." The way she spoke the dead king's name simmered with venom.
The Queen's malice was deadly sharp. Ser Damon was unsurprised and unafraid.
"Lady Lysa Arryn is dead, last I heard." He answered plainly. "Her young son is like to be much more agreeable to an oath of fealty… so long as we offer a pardon. And if not, the Lords around him will understand that joining with the Iron Throne is better for their health than opposing it."
Still, the Queen did not look impressed.
"The man who slew my betrayers without question now wants me to offer amnesty?"
Ser Damon gave a faint shrug.
"Better to make the Vale into an ally than an enemy. Or worse - push them to make common cause with Stannis."
The Queen's green eyes burned.
"They would not dare."
Of course not." Ser Damon placated. The Queen had come to a stop, so it was his turn to slip closer. "Not if the crown offers a hand in friendship. Let the false king Stannis and his army of traitors freeze together in the North. Let the Boltons take care of him. And suppose the Boltons fail and the usurper somehow manages to take Winterfell, his forces will surely be depleted. So long as the Vale is allied with us…"
The Queen watched him, scrutinizing. The fire in her eyes flickered and receded, fury replaced with… consideration.
"A precaution then." Cersei finally put forth. "Not an offer of forgiveness."
"You need not like them. As I said, a bitter ally is better than a bitter enemy."
Cersei looked pensive now, swaying slightly on her feet. Though she tried to mask it, there was worry threading through her features, clear in the pinch of her brow.
"And what if the Arryn boy denies the crown like his mother did? Is the Iron Throne to war with the Vale?" Cersei pressed him. She reached out, her fingertips coming up to just faintly brush over his breastplate. She met his eyes, expectant.
"A blockade then." Ser Damon was quick with his answer. "Better than smashing your own army against the Bloody Gate. And much better than letting the Vale lords give their strength to Stannis. Or anyone else."
Cersei studied him for a moment longer. Then she let out a soft breath. The knight could not help but notice the subtle strain of her body against the fabric of her dress.
"Fine then. I'll give the command on the morrow."
Ser Damon found himself smirking. It was a precious thing, having the ear of a queen. Especially one so beautiful.
"You honor me with your trust, Your Grace." He gave a small bow of his head… noticing then that the woman's hand had never left his breastplate.
"You know well my rewards are much sweeter than that." She replied. When Ser Damon lifted his head again, he found the Queen's eyes still burned bright… just not with her fury.
"Am I dismissed, Your Grace?" He asked, ever hopeful for the contrary.
"No." He was pleased to hear the lioness answer. "Your queen still has need of you."
- - -
Cersei had Damon wait for a time before following her. The knight counted the seconds, waiting, waiting, thinking about the softness of Cersei's skin, the warmth of her arms around his neck.
When he finally stepped into the Queen's bedchamber and closed the door shut behind him, Ser Damon felt molten heat in his veins. His blood was up. And he didn't need to think about the pleasure of her company any longer.
His queen was leaning against the bed, draping her form upon one of the bed posts. Her dress seemed to fit more snugly upon her now, giving perfect shape to the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Her figure called to him - as did that yearning glint in her eyes.
Ser Damon shucked off his armor, fingers tangling with knots and clasps, anxious to free himself. When he was down to his breeches and a simple undershirt, he practically leaped upon Cersei. She cried out in dizzy joy as he swept her up into his arms, spinning her around some. He stole a kiss, then another, then more after that, as many as he could.
All the while, he held her close, pawing at her body through that damned dress. He filled his hands with tit and hip and ass, squeezing at lush, womanly flesh covered by layers of fabric. Even as he kissed her, a growl rose up in his throat. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel her. Skin upon skin. His body burned for it.
Cersei was not scandalized - she was laughing, delighted as Ser Damon peppered her neck with kisses. She softly slapped at his back and the top of his head until he tossed her onto the bed. She let out another cry, looking up at him with wide eyes as she bounced and bounced.
"You would dare treat your queen so roughly?" She tried - tried - to sound furious, but the brightness in her eyes was ever so inviting.
Ser Damon tugged off his shirt, tossing it aside. Next, his hands went to the laces of his breeches, working quickly. He advanced upon the woman sprawled on the bed - the lioness had now become the prey.
"Your beauty can drive a man mad." He spoke roughly. His voice was raw with need, coming out barely more than a growl. "A single look from you makes a beast out of me."
"I should have you put in chains." She fumed, her words coming thick with feeling. "A lustful savage bastard would unleash his hunger upon the city otherwise."
"You would chain me to your bed?" Ser Damon's lips peeled back to reveal teeth. A ravenous smile.
"Coupling is what you're good for. Besides fighting, that is. I would set you loose when I need a man killed."
"I've heard of worse fates." Damon admitted, chuckling. The bastard knight went to the edge of the bed, his hands coming to Cersei's legs first. He slid his fingers over the smooth skin of her calves, inching the skirt of her dress up, up, up until they were riding past her knees, over her full thighs. Higher and higher until man's favorite prize was revealed.
Flanked by the pleasing width of those fertile hips, nestled between her full, soft thighs, was a tight, warm, queenly cunt. Just above was a small thatch of golden, curly hair - dampened and glistening. Seeing that glaze upon her womanhood made Damon's mouth water.
Ser Damon caught the scent of her arousal next, thick and musky and sweet to his nostrils. He wanted a taste. He restrained himself to enjoy her legs first. Kisses, he bestowed to her ankles, then higher to her calves, moving up to her smooth shins. When he reached her thighs, Cersei started to squirm.
The Queen closed her thighs reflexively, flinching back from the beast in her bed… before slowly parting her legs for him again. She set her eyes upon his, emerald pools blazing like the Blackwater.
"Men have fought wars to be where you are now." She told him, breathing deeply, steadily.
"You speak truly." Damon grunted, brushing his lips over her upper thighs now. Never so sweet had skin tasted, never so warm and soft did a woman's thigh feel against his face. Then his eyes fell upon her cunt, finding her pink already weeping. The aroma was thicker now, making his head spin, making his heart hammer into a blaze. "I will accept your chains with gratitude, my queen. But first let me sate my hunger."
He heard Cersei let out a huff. Next he felt her fingers tangle in his hair. She forced his face between her thighs.
"Employ your tongue or lose it, bastard."
Damon flashed one last smirk then did as his queen bid. Just like her scent, the flavor of Cersei was thick, musky, offering a slight tang as it glided over his tongue. To Damon, it was sweet as honey. He lapped, lapped, lapped like a dog dying of thirst.
She was already slick and warm when he started, but his licks drew more from her, each swipe of his tongue making her wetter, hotter, making the woman buck her hips up into his face. Damon slid his hands down, cupping her buttocks, those soft, plush cheeks, lifting her cunt up to his mouth - like he was feasting from a bowl.
He devoured cunt like a rabid, starving beast. And the Queen, his Queen? She was howling, wailing with wild need. Heated words came spewing from her filthy mouth.
"Oh! Oh, fuck! That… Do not stop… Do not… OH!"
Damon's fingers dug into the softness of her rear, cradling her up to his face. Lifted how she was, her dress slid further up her belly. Damon could see the movement just under the swell of her belly - muscles working faintly as her body responded to him and his lashing tongue.
The Queen was soaking wet now and Ser Damon swept more and more of that delicious nectar into his mouth. Her moans were coming rapidly now, filling the bed chamber with sweetness. And her writhing body only filled the bastard knight with pride.
His cock was rock solid, trapped in his breeches. Yet Ser Damon was pleased. Royal cunt filled his mouth and the Queen's slick offering was his reward. So were her cries of ecstasy, coming louder, louder, splitting the air like a tolling bell.
He had lost track of the time, so overwhelmed by his duty to Cersei. Soon enough, The Queen was shrieking. Pleasure struck through her body… and poured out onto Damon's tongue.
Damon kept licking even as the woman whined and writhed and bucked so pitifully, so beautifully into his mouth. The wonder of her orgasm was a delight, but it was fleeting. When the pleasure faded and her grip on his hair loosened, Damon let Cersei flop back onto the bed.
He licked his lips and watched his lioness breathe and breathe and breathe.
"Seven… fucking… hells…" Cersei stared up at the ceiling through dazed eyes, panting. "You have spared your tongue the blade, Ser Damon."
"My tongue is grateful for your mercy. Such torture to go the rest of my life without tasting you again." Damon reached down, sliding his hand over one of Cersei's warm, soft thighs. So splendid she felt under his palm. "And now that you're wet and willing…"
He was upon her again. All of her, not just her cunt. Strong hands had the Queen free of her dress in an instant. Next they freed his cock, shucking away every last stitch of damnable clothing. No crowns or titles in that bed. Just man and woman.
"Brute!" Cersei hissed, slapping harmlessly at his chest as he nudged her legs apart. "No better than a wildling savage!"
Damon grunted, sliding his cock against her. The swollen cockhead prodded at her pink. The feel was heavenly, even if it was just a small taste. Her heat, her wetness, had him aching.
"You want me to stop? Command me to stop." He dared, torturing her still. He slid his shaft against her, shuddering deep within as her wetness glazed over his manhood.
The desperation in her eyes was yet another victory. He savored the look.
"Bloody bastard…" Her head fell back against the sheets. It was not a dismissal, Damon noted.
The bastard knight stabbed into his queen with a sudden, strong thrust. Her sex parted, enveloping him in heat and silky sweetness. But the sound she made was somehow even sweeter.
"Ooooo-uuh!"
She writhed under him, twisting splendidly as he held her down. Damon huffed through his nose, low and rough, as he sank his cock deeper into her. Deeper. Deeper. Until he was sheathed in sweet, royal cunt.
Wet and hot and tight. All around him, pressing in on every inch. Paradise for his cock. The feeling was the closest a living soul would ever get to heaven.
"Maiden's tits…" He cursed. "Still so tight."
Cersei slapped at his chest again, moaning.
"Blame your fat, bastard's cock."
He felt her tighten and clench around him. Her body was begging for more. So he gave it. Gave all he had.
It still felt like a dream. Even after everything he'd done. Every reward he'd earned.
A lowly bastard from the Stormlands. Fucking the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Fucking the ladies and whores of her court. About to be made a lord. All because he pledged his sword to Cersei Lannister. All because he followed his cock.
Ser Damon never thought he would love. He never believed in the fairy tales of brave, loyal knights and beautiful, pure princesses. But this woman in his arms, this queen, this lioness…
Cersei had never looked so beautiful, flat on her back, taking his cock, looking up at him with passion in the eyes.
He fucked her hard. So hard the bed shook and the frame groaned. He kissed her, kissed her all over, upon her lips, her throat, her bouncing tits. She clung to him, gripping his hair again as he bit at her hardened nipples. He loved the way she whined as he licked them, nipped with his teeth.
They just fucked. They didn't speak. Not until the end.
"Go faster! Go fast-Yes!" Cersei cried. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, keeping him sheathed within her. Drawing him closer, deeper. "Yes! Gods! Gods! Fuck me!"
Her pleading was enough to send him into madness. Damon did not answer her so much as he roared. For his part, he almost sounded like a lion.
The rutting knight came and came hard. It felt right to let loose buried so deep in a woman. It was what a man was made for.
Bliss poured through his veins, red hot and boiling. Cersei was left shaking in his arms, clinging to him. He showered more kisses upon her body, tender pecks all over her hot, sweating skin.
The bastard knight could only breathe. In short time though, his cock stirred again.
Fingers raked through his hair again, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. When it broke, Cersei met his eyes. And the fire that burned in those emerald pools showed that his lioness was not yet spent.
Her words were unspoken but clear as fresh water. The Queen still had need of her loyal knight.