"Possessing qualities of male and female, eunuchs in certain societies developed a sexuality which encompassed aspects of both. They were far from obligatorily asexual, and depending on time and place often served as the objects of desire for men and women alike." (1)
So here he was.
He still felt the strange stirrings in a place that was no longer his. It was like a longing in his loins, something that screamed of what was gone and what he now wanted again.
It was only a few months after he'd arrived in King's Landing. The stirrings never ceased, and he finally came to the realization of what they were, much to his befuddlement.
At the time, Varys was far from being the round person he would extend to in his older years. In the time of Aerys's glorious reign, the eunuch was sporting a small potbelly, but his lingering youth allowed him to be beautiful, still, if hairless.
He took to searching for a place to sate his need, then, but in the midst of the various visits he made, he came to understand that the matrons did not quite regard him as a potential client.
This brothel would be his last attempt.
When he entered, the woman who greeted him smiled and bade him sit on the cushions. Poised in the comfort of satin and silk, he could not help remembering home. The colors and the scents were reminiscent of Pentos, if only faintly – that was both a painful and delightful thing, he mused, much like what he purported to do.
The woman who came was from the Summer Isles. She wore a dress that hugged her body perfectly, showing pointy nipples through the fabric and welcoming hips. Her skin was dark and smooth, her hair heavy, black and fuzzy like sheep wool.
"Be welcome," she told him in a rich, warmly accented voice. "I am Chataya."
He gave her a name that didn't matter, and took her hand.
"What will you have, then, Master? We live to please our patrons and the gods."
He smiled, a little. "I would have a body to sleep with, to touch, to fondle and to kiss," he replied, flushed, a little.
She leaned in, kissed his lips, sweetly. "A body is little to ask in this place," she told him, her breath was sweet-smelling, he could tell. "I can offer you that, and more, if you will have it so."
He grabbed her, then and there, and kissed her again, passionately. She returned the kiss a moment, hotly, before she pulled away with a laugh.
"You ask for the owner herself, I see," she told him, half-amused.
"I ask for you, and for your sweetest boy, if you have one," he replied, hotly. "You will not lack in gold for it."
She smiled, and snapped her finger. A youth of his age came in, dark skinned as Chataya was, with long hair that fell in heavy dreadlocks. Varys licked his chops, unthinkingly. "I am Shahur," he announced, bowing. "And yours to serve," he added.
"He is my cousin," Chataya pointed out, and she added, "we see no ill in serving together, in the Summer Isles." Varys had no need to be told, and even if he had had such a need, he couldn't care less.
The night was long with Chataya and Shahur.
Varys let her kiss him, undressing him with fleeting touches, waking his willing desires with barely a butterfly's caress. What was left of him stirred, and what was left of him fell into her hands, into her mouth, as Varys himself pleasured the other man with his lips. It was both exhilarating and frustrating to touch another man's manliness, and it was with some resentment that he thrust his middle finger into Shahur's rear entrance. The youth cried out for it, but did not refuse him, and his hand tightend on Varys's hair, just as Varys pressed Chataya's face into his mutilated crotch, wanting more.
The pleasure came unannounced, and he groaned onto the whore's member, pressing his hand more powerfully into him. A moment later, though, he removed himself, and found himself telling the youth, "I want you to pleasure her, I want to see you enter Chataya from a privileged point of view."
And so the whores obeyed him. He lay on his back, sprawled under Chataya, his face under the point of penetration. He could feel her dangling breasts brushing his belly, stirring him again, but his curiosity was deeper than his desire, and he only reached to touch her belly, to explore her sweetness where he could.
He saw Shahur's tip entering the warm burrow between her thighs, and heard her gasp at the sensation. His hands moved, caressed her breasts, as if he were the one pleasuring her, and when Shahur finally spent his seed into her womb, he smiled in pleasure and licked her battered cunt as she squirmed, asking for more.
The night was long with Chataya and Shahur. He gave himself to Shahur's manliness, he took Chataya with what was left of him, entering her and caressing her. The night was long, but the night was sweet, and when morning came, he was sated and happy.
"You are a sweet patron, my lord," she told him, her face resting on his belly. Against the nape of Varys' neck, Shahur concurred with a purr.
"I will come again," he told them. "And if you tell me secrets then, we will be the greatest of friends."
Chataya smiled, and fell to an easy sleep.
And just then, so did Varys.
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(1) Michael William Aucoin and Richard Joel Wassersug. The sexuality and social performance of androgen-deprived (castrated) men throughout history: Implications for modern day cancer patients, Dalhousie University Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, Available online 20 September 2006.