The Collared Wolf
by Crippled-Canary
Chapter 10: A collared wolf
Lynette didn't know how long she waited, but she must have fallen asleep, because she was woken by the door opening and sliding shut, much softer than before. She sat up quickly, rubbed her eyes and jumped to her feet.
There was blood on his tunic.
A flicker of panic rose in her heart again, but she snuffed it out and assessed his movements. No sign of pain. He wasn't injured. It wasn't his blood.
"Whose blood is it, my lord?"
Tywin took in her wayward hair and unbuckled his sword belt with a sigh. He set the weapon down before taking a moment to force himself back into the mask of a calm and calculative man.
"They won't hurt you or your sister again."
Shocked, Lynette stood thinking. Did he exact justice because he was trying to be gallant, or did he simply want to stress a point that even the king couldn't touch what belonged to him? To calm herself, she decided on the former and willed herself to walk to him. She remained there in his presence, basking in his warmth without touching him, stilling her aching heart. The wolf reared its head inside her, and courage returned to her. Finally.
"Thank you, Lord Lannister."
When she looked up at him again, it was the most human she had ever seen him. His eyes were tired and he looked torn for some reason. She didn't know what he wanted her to do, so she simply turned around, pulled her shift over her head and glided to the bed, where she lay down with her hands at her sides.
She waited like that, until the bed dipped underneath his weight and she felt the warmth he radiated lick at her skin. Lynette ignored her troublesome nerves and held herself still when a rough hand found purchase on her own. It would only be respectful to acknowledge him – Lynette turned and met his eyes, completely devoid of emotion.
Tywin was warring with himself. It was his duty! He never shirked it, no matter how terrible. Yet here he was, wondering if he should give the girl reprieve. 'No!' he growled at himself, 'Just get on with it!'
Her frightened eyes stopped him from turning her around and fucking her face down so that he wouldn't have to look at her. Tywin made a choice then, lying naked on his bed with his wife inches away from him. He would make her enjoy him. He would make her forget the pains his blasted grandson forced her through. If it meant he had to suffer a little in the process, then so be it. He was on the home stretch of his run anyway, the last thing he could enjoy was the willing touch of his lady wife, not her pained cries.
"Tell me of Winterfell…"
The question shocked her so that Lynette complied without a second thought. She told him of the snowflakes, the Godswood and the Weirwood Tree. She told him of the rides she and Jon used to take through the woods and the smell of breakfast in the morning. Her heart ached for home, but by the time she was done, she was smiling softly with a nostalgic look in her eyes.
Tywin held her hand the entire time, thumbing her skin gently. She was relaxing, had completely forgotten her lack of clothes and let him near her. It was a drastic improvement from her trembling the first time he came into the room with her.
Lynette moved onto her knees beside him, her hair covering her chest like a shirt. She didn't let go of his hand and she seemed to be holding onto it like a lifeline. She appreciated his efforts to make her relax, but she would much rather he just get on with their consummation, because the wait was making her want to cry even though she cursed the raw feeling of terror that danced in her body.
Tywin spoke, somberly, seeing the struggle in her eyes, "Come here, Lady Stark."
She knew he meant for her to straddle him, so she arranged herself and swung her leg over his waist to accommodate herself. She was still holding onto his hand. Her nails were biting into the flesh but she didn't care. He was going to hurt her. She would hurt him back.
Lynette forced her body to remain still and not to cover herself. She was his now and he could enjoy her in whatever way he deemed fit. Cersei told her as much. She said that men such as her father claimed his rights often, viciously and without quarter.
It was time for her to become a woman. Lynette knew as much.
His other hand found purchase on her hip. It remained still, unmoving. She looked at him, properly.
The Lion of Lannister was a lion indeed.
He was strong, corded muscle in his arms and chest, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow. His legs were long, strong and hard beneath her bottom and his hands were large. He was dusted in a fine layer of hair, his mane, she thought quietly and smiled despite herself. His … it was large, too. She had nothing to compare it to, of course, but the maids and Shae had been very descriptive. How that was going to fit inside her, she had no idea.
With an impossibly small voice, and a shy look, she mumbled, "May I touch you?"
When he didn't answer, she felt panic begin to take hold. He saw it and pulled the hand that still clasped his to rest on his chest. Lynette didn't know what she was allowed and what not, because they didn't talk about this and he didn't say anything.
His skin was hot under her touch. His hands remained impassive on her hips and let her explore his body. A brief flicker of doubt crossed his mind when she just stared at him. He was older than her…
As quickly as his insecurities rose, he trampled them.
He didn't have the time to worry if she found his body desirable or not.
Hers was glorious.
She had broader shoulders than he first saw, but it suited her and the way she seemed to order everyone around. Her collar begged him to kiss it. Her breasts were small, but impossible firm and pert. Her waist was slender, her belly tight. Her thighs were smooth and what lay between them was hot and tight and unexplored and his.
His.
The thought made his grip on her tighten and he sat up suddenly. He kissed her hard on the mouth, giving her some time to follow her instincts and move her lips in sync with his own. Her kiss was angry and it made him awaken. Blood flowed through the Old Lion, headed down to his groin. He pulled away and looked at her.
She was beautiful dressed up and proper. But like this, austere, bare and breathless, she was mesmerizing.
Tywin lowered his mouth to her neck. He suckled gently until he felt her hands on his shoulders. His tongue trailed slowly to her collar and he dusted kisses all over the exposed skin. Lynette knew she shouldn't be enjoying his attentions. She knew she shouldn't get used to tenderness. But beneath every scar and every welt, there was a woman with a body and feelings and dreams.
She couldn't ignore the fact that he was trying. Trying to make it less painful. Trying to make her feel better even if it went against their duty.
In turn, she tried too.
Tried to swallow her fears, tried to convey her trust by letting her neck drop back and offering herself to him, tried to please him as well.
They would try together then, she thought.
Warmth she hadn't felt in a long time slipped over her and blanketed her against his chest. The Lion cupped a breast and trailed his fingers over her tight nipple to gauge her reaction. Her back tensed but she made no sound. Her lip was caught between her teeth. Her hands were gripping him now, not holding as they were before.
He ignored his own arousal and focused on her. When it came to the lioness, a lion would never betray, push too hard or demand too much. Lynette was struggling to come to terms with her body's reaction to his touch. It was all strange for her. It was strange for him, too. He lowered his lips to one breast, kissed it slowly and felt her thighs tighten around his waist when he sucked for the first time. The hand on her hip moved to her back to hold her in such a way that he had better access and she all but melted into him. Her breathing was deepening, and she was beginning to let go of her sense of decorum.
It felt good.
It was the first time a touch to her hips wasn't malicious.
It was the first time a touch to her breasts brought pleasure instead of shame and humiliation.
To thank him, she slipped one of her hands to the back of his neck and massaged him there. She didn't know if she was allowed to touch his … his cock, so she let her hands flutter over his back and sides to distract herself from the heat she felt spreading from her core.
Tywin noticed, he noticed everything, and slowly dropped his hand down her stomach, back to her hipbone. The skin spasmed and he smirked into her neck when she went rigid as his fingers lazily found a spot of her body she didn't know she had. His fingers on the most private part of her body shocked her. The pleasure that slipped over her and made her mind cloud was maddening. She knew to keep quiet, per Cersei's wisdom and dug her teeth into her lips.
Her lip was bleeding when he looked up at her face again, to search for fear or discomfort. To free it, he kissed her again and let his tongue trace the seam of her lips. She made a sound of shock in the back of her throat, clearly confused and he pulled away, to growl, "Open your mouth."
The Lannister kissed her again before she could complain and open her mouth she did, to find his tongue trailing slowly and with practiced ease over her bottom lip. When their tongues touched, she ripped her mouth from him again, staring at him stupidly, "My lord, I don-"
Her pulse was thundering against her neck. His rough fingers smoothed over her little button again and her eyes rolled back in her head, "Oh…"
The first time he heard her moan, it was like someone flogged him. Tywin Lannister was overcome by lust and he could barely control his own breathing. She was truly an exquisite creature and some primal male part of him that had long lay dormant reared its head and made a selfish pride spread all over him when he realized that he had elicited that sound.
This time when his lips met hers, Lynette granted him entrance.
And kissed him wantonly.
Her mouth was wet and hot, tasted like berries and applewine – with a clouded gleam in her eyes that made her look like a siren – something he couldn't deny, for despite all his achievements, the Lion of Lannister was still a man. He was hard and aroused and he wanted to fuck her - and never stop. He slipped a finger closer to her entrance and pushed inside with the aid of her slick.
She didn't make a sound of discomfort and didn't stop him, but her hand gripped his bicep.
A warning.
A wordless plea for gentleness as well as a wanton encouragement.
He knew she was scrambling about, trying to find what was left of her sanity. He didn't move his finger but kept his hand circling and rubbing. She was as tight as a vice. Her hips were shaking in time with his movements and her lips were pliant against his.
Lynette Stark was losing herself.
His tongue matched the sinful strokes of his finger. She was clawing at him now, dragging hands and nails alike across the wide expanse of his back. Leaving marks that almost matched the ones on her own skin.
Her body was betraying her and her nerves were overwhelmed with pleasure, want and need. Need for what, she didn't know, but she needed something and it seemed only he could give it to her, so she kept kissing him and touching him, hoping he would give it to her.
Her breathing stuttered against his mouth when he pulled back to watch her before diving back to her chest and feasting on her breasts as if he couldn't get enough of her. Tywin was truly relieved when he felt it, the first little tremor of her walls around his finger, his one finger, and doubled his efforts. Lynette was making him feel things he had last enjoyed in the arms of his late wife, and it scared him.
She was almost crying above him now, wordlessly pleading with him to end her torment. Her eyes were wide, frightened and excited at the same time, and her soft whimpers were so sincere it drove a shock through his soul.
When she succumbed and finally let her first ever orgasm crash into her like a tidal wave of fury, she clung to him like a lifeline. She wanted to feel ashamed of herself but couldn't. The realization that he cared enough, even if he only cared about what she could give him, to make her feel so wonderful was enough to make a calm acceptance settle over her.
Tywin just looked at her until she raised her head from his shoulder, blushing blood red. She let her eyes smile in thanks before allowing him to roll her over and onto the covers behind her.
His warmth encased her and his eyes burned their way into her head. Lynette wasn't shaking any more, merely waiting. She looked between them before she reached down and took him in her hand. The Lord of the Rock stiffened but didn't stop her in her curious exploration. Her hands were soft and welcome and his eyes never once faltered from hers.
He would look her in the eye as he took her.
Tywin respected her enough to murmur grimly, "It will hurt."
He was proud of her solemn nod and he moved his hands down to lift her knees to either side of him. Being so intimately close to him made her heart start pounding again, but Lynette didn't notice, because his … his cock was there, against her, and it felt bigger than before. How he was going to fit, she didn't know, but looked him in the eye and bared her neck to him again, relinquishing control.
Her body started to tense, but the lion kissed the soft skin of her neck slowly and once again pinned her to her place with his unforgiving green-gold stare.
She relaxed.
Tywin gathered his wits about him and entered her just as her chest lowered in exhale. Any pain she felt, she couldn't hide from him, because he was right there above her, with his hands bracing his weight above her body.
Lynette gasped when she felt him inside her, tearing through her. He wasn't lying when he said that it would hurt. She was underwhelmed, however and had expected something much worse by the way her Septa and Cersei went on about it.
She felt so … full.
It felt strange to be so close to someone, to be one with someone. Her heart shook in her chest and she dug her nails into his back. Lynette dug her knees into his sides so tightly she was sure Tywin had trouble breathing. She wanted to hurt him for hurting her. Physically and mentally.
"Fuck," he cursed through clenched teeth and growled deep in his throat. She was bloody tight and fighting him with everything in her. He was stronger than her and kept her still. He knew it would cause her more pain the more she struggled.
Joanna struggled against him those many years ago and the pain that tore through her made him stop what they were doing and call the maester while he held her body against his.
The memory made his heart clench, but Tywin forced it out of his mind and looked at Lynette's valiant attempt to calm herself and accept the sudden intrusion. Her breath came in short little pants against the inside of his arm and her one hand was tight around his bicep.
"We can stop," he ground out, his voice deeper and akin to rumbling thunder, "if you wish to."
By gods, he hoped she didn't, because every nerve in his body was raging at him for even suggesting it. Thankfully, his little wife shook her head and shivered when he pulled her flush against him.
Her voice was rough with want when she spoke, her eloquent words a polar opposite to their situation and what they were doing, "No, my lord, I … it is f- fi-fine."
Tywin waited until she relaxed around him, limbs and walls alike, before he started moving. The feel of her, wet and tight, was making it increasingly difficult for him to focus. He didn't like losing control of himself, but it seemed that his little wife, was making him lose all sense and abandon every bit of iron-willed resolve he had built about himself, without even knowing it.
Her hands were tight around his back and Tywin forced himself to keep looking at her face. He wouldn't hurt her more than he had to. He swore it to himself. He never lied.
Her breathy little moans of pleasure were ringing in his ears and the Lannister lost himself in the warm comfort of her touch and the feelings of her hips fluttering against his, forgot about war and money and politics and let himself feel freely.
Lynette was too overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure to accuse him of being weak because of it and even if she did see the vulnerable side of the man that was inside her, she would keep it to herself. He had seen parts of her she wanted to hide forever. She would keep his secrets, too.
With a deep moan that made her toes curl in satisfaction, the Lion finished and spilled himself inside her. His eyes were closed and his jaw slack, a beautiful sheen of sweat on his chest.
They stayed like that, until he stood up and left again.
Lynette felt filthy, then. She felt tears burn in her eyes and quickly brushed them away. She tried to roll over to find her slip and cover herself, but she couldn't move. Her body wasn't listening. Her legs were numb and her hands were blindly gripping the bedsheets, trying to find something to hold on to.
'I want my mother!', her plaintive inner self screamed.
Her hair was tangled and in a tussle on the pillows and she was suddenly cold without him to warm her. Lynette didn't hear the man that was now her husband return. She couldn't focus on anything but the deep sense of emptiness in her. He was carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, unashamed of his nakedness.
Lynette gritted her teeth and with sheer force of will, pulled herself to sit up. Her hair fell forward to cover her and she gripped the sheets even tighter. He didn't say a word when he wiped her clean of blood and –
She looked away.
There was only so much the tattered remains of her sanity could endure. She felt as if she had betrayed her house and her father's memory. Her skin felt clammy and burned where she allowed his hands to touch her. Lynette felt like the traitor Joffrey told her Eddard Stark was. She felt like a traitor because she enjoyed it.
The feeling of his strong body above her, protecting her from the hateful place that was King's Landing was soothing and she had felt at ease for the first time since her father was killed.
The tears were suddenly gone.
Lynette reached for the furs on the foot of the bed to pull over herself. She wanted the material to swallow her. Tywin's rough hand covered her own and she flinched away.
"Are you in pain?"
The Lion was watching his wolf with sharp eyes. Her mind was catching up to what their bodies had done. Tywin wanted to comfort her, but found, sitting there beside her on his soiled bed, he didn't know how.
Comforting maidens wasn't one of his strong suits.
She didn't answer him but shook her head. Sighing, Tywin searched for her slip on the floor somewhere and found it in front of the fireplace, beside his sword. When the Old Lion approached her, her eyes were distant and pained, but he did his best to ignore it and put the slip over her head. Relief sagged over her when her body was covered.
"May I retire to my chambers, Lord Lannister, or do you have need of me again?"
Her voice was so small and scared. He realized what she was doing. She was becoming the hollow shell Joffrey made her into, right there, before his eyes. Lynette was retreating into herself, hiding the wolf to save and preserve it, and she was building her walls up again.
"Do you wish to sleep alone?" her husband asked her. He was exasperated, and angry. He wanted to bury his sword into something to vent his frustrations. If only he could kill Trant and Blount again.
Lynette exhaled unsteadily, raised her chin and looked at him, "I don't know."
She was brutally honest and it did little to keep his fury in check. He wanted her to be deceptive and scheming so that he could label her and forget about everything she made him feel. She was honest. A man like him wasn't good at managing honesty. Lies were punishable. Truth… it was a foreign concept to be on the receiving side of.
He grimly stared ahead, looking into the fire and seeking answers to questions he didn't know.
The Lannister carried her to her bed in the chamber next to his, tended the fire and left her alone on the bed, her body swallowed by the mountain of blankets.
He washed, dressed himself, sat down at his desk and worked until he couldn't see in a straight line any more.
Author's note:
Please review this chapter. I have never written something like this before. I am afraid it has too many metaphors, but I don't want to seem vulgar.