Glancing at the clock next to her, Cersei sighed. It was going to be a long night. She watched her husband quote his latest sonnet, while everyone around the dining table cheered on. They were hosting Rhaegar's colleagues from the contemporary arts society.
Impassively, she looks on while sipping her red wine occasionally to drown the excitement bursting around her. Lights twinkle around the room, and the candles dotting down the middle of the pretty tablecloth the household help maid laid out flicker. Cersei reaches for her fork and chews quietly, wishing she could disappear.
A hand sneaks onto her thigh, the pads of the fingers painting lines against her skin.
A low gasp escapes her as she drops her fork, and the clatter sounds through the room, drawing the attention of all the occupants in the room.
Her husband shoots a glare at her from his seat across from her. "Cersei, surely you aren't drunk already! We just sat down to eat." There's an edge to his voice, and an odd twitch at the corner of her husband's mouth.
That's all it takes for her anger to snap, and nails cut crescent shaped lines into the creamy skin of her thigh before she says something she probably won't regret.
Fingers tighten on her thigh as a warning, and when she plasters a fake smile on her face, they dip lower.
Cersei shoots a warning to the man seated next to her, but he completely ignores her, choosing instead to pretend enjoying the company of the guests. He happens to be her husband's adult son, Jon.
Jon pushes her knickers to the side, finding her already soaked, his nostrils flare, and she wishes, that he would deposit her into his lap. Two fingers enter her, curling against her and she swallows a gasp. Minutes pass just like that, with her tightly gripping the edge of her chair while half hoping no one would notice, and half hoping they would.
Her husband raises his glass of white wine, but Cersei can't hear the conversation that's taken over the table. It doesn't matter.
"Cersei?" Jon asks, his tone traitorously unaffected as his thumb rubs her clit roughly, just the way she likes it. "We are toasting to dad's new poem."
Everyone is watching her, with their glasses raised. Rhaegar looks livid. Shakily, she raises her own glass and can see the contempt in the eyes of her guests. While under the table she's being fingered by her stepson and she's going to come in front of everyone. She swallows, and nothing about the coy smile she gives is fake.
"To my darling husband, may all your sonnets be this successful." Then in a surprise move she turns to look at Jon, "And to my dear stepson, for being so wonderful." Faint agreements follow, but she's focused on Jon.
His eyes narrow dangerously and his fingers quicken. On the way he slides another into her while he brings her to the edge. His hand leaves her aching, and she squeezes her legs shut as he sucks his fingers clean.
-cjcjcjcjcj-
There's a still all too familiar ache between her legs when she drags herself from her bed the next morning. Cersei could just go back to bed, instead she sits down on the plush armchair next to the bed and ponders.
It is so wrong what they have got going on, but it feels so perfect, so good! It's far beyond an accident at this point, and Hermione can hardly think of it as such when they keep meeting.
Rhaegar married her for the money so he could carry on with his dream of being a literary poet and Cersei went with it looking for some semblance of a normal life. While her new husband kept himself buried in his work, she had found herself spending more and more time with Jon. Jon is ten years junior to her while Rhaegar is ten years senior.
Pretty soon, Cersei found herself slipping out of her marital bed and into Jon's every time he was home for the holidays. Last night had been no different. The memory is fresh, Jon's hands clamped on her mouth to keep her from moaning as he drove impossibly deep inside of her.
She pads down into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Having strawberries in fresh cream is her favourite and she is slightly disappointed to see they are all gone.
"Looking for this?" A voice drawls from the door.
Cersei turns to look at Jon standing only in his boxers, holding the last strawberry.
"That's mine, give it here," She sneers.
A smile forms on his handsome face and he slowly raises the fruit and puts it in his mouth. Then he walks towards her like a stud and reaches around her to deposit the bowl in the sink.
Cersei literally grabs his balls.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jon hisses.
Cersei lifts her chin and hooks her ankle around the back of his knee. "Whatever I want, I suspect."
And they are at it again, rutting it out like animals. Jon has Cersei bent over the island, her pajamas pooled around her ankles, as he takes her from behind.
Her palms slip against the smooth countertops and she struggles to keep her hold. Jon reaches from behind and pushes her top just above her breasts. He palms and squeezes her breasts while pumping inside of her with extra vigor.
"Don't stop," Cersei pants, she can feel the onset of her orgasm.
"I won't, not for anything in this world," Jon grounds it out.
Suddenly her mobile lights up, vibrating against the counter, Cersei groans.
"Answer your husband, Cersei," Jon smirks, "Or I will stop moving altogether."
Gritting her teeth Cersei reaches for her phone. "Hello," she answers, clapping a hand over her mouth as he thrusts into her, burying himself before slowly pulling out. "Rhaegar?"
Jon doesn't play nice, and he certainly doesn't play fair as he slams into her, pressing her cheek to the counter roughly.
"Cersei!" Her husband acknowledges, unaware of what's happening on the other end of the line.
Jon's fingers slide along her folds roughly, and she stuffs the sleeve of her jacket into her mouth to hide a muffled whimper.
Her husband continues. "There is a red file on my study table with a business card inside of it, can you give me the contact number?"
"I am a little indisposed at the moment, can I call you back later?" Cersei answers carefully, keeping her voice from quivering.
There is a heavy sigh, "The one time I need something urgently. It is the number of an In Vitro Fertilization Specialist."
"In Vitro Fertilization Specialist?" Cersei repeats, and Jon's movements slow. "Why?"
"I want to have kids and I need to have us both checked by the best," Rhaegar retorts coldly.
"Yeah okay," Cersei sighs. "I'll call you back with the number."
Jon pulls her pajama bottoms up and steps back, his face contorted in surprise. "You guys are trying to have a baby."
Cersei avoids his gaze, "Not really no, but lately your father has been obsessed with having children."
Jon whistles, "Children as in more than one. And here we are doing it with no protection. So, tell me Cersei, am I going to be a father or a brother?"
She doesn't answer, her face a mask of fury. Slowly turning, she walks past Jon and up the staircase to her bedroom, where she slams the door.
-cjcjcjcjcj-
It lasts all of two days.
Cersei finds herself relaxing against the nest of pillows she had arranged in front of the fireplace. Jon pushes himself up and is kissing her again, and while the heat from the crackling fire had left the room warm, the flush that she felt in her cheeks had nothing to do with it.
He broke the kiss, then brushed his lips against the point of Cersei's jaw, and she shivered. She rested her hand against his back, drawing her fingertips against the woven pattern of his fisherman's sweater. "So when you said 'business dinner,'" he murmured, his voice almost a deep, low growl, "did you by chance mean something out of town?"
"Mmm," Cersei sighed, and Jon kissed the hollow behind her ear before he pulled back to look into her eyes. His were dark, his gaze intense, and Cersei was fascinated at the length of his gorgeous eyelashes, the handsome planes of the face she loved. She reached up and cupped his cheek. "Your daddy is just at a regular business dinner - the snow should slow him down, though?"
"And I've missed you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, partially pinning her under him, and Cersei shivered with delight as his tongue stroked against hers. "Seeing you everyday, but not touching, not talking was too hard."
Cersei smiled cruelly, "You're not falling for me, are you?"
He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "I am not that naïve also. No point being on a path that leads nowhere."
"Hmm," Cersei murmured, and gave him a light, sweet kiss. "Well, it leads somewhere, else we wouldn't be doing this."
He knelt between her open thighs and her heart was beating so hard that she felt lightheaded, her lips parted beneath his. She bent her knees, drawing her legs up so the soles of her feet were against the floor, and Jon settled his hips between her open thighs.
Together they pulled his sweater off, and she ran her hands down his bare back, tracing the rippling lines of his muscles as he kissed her again.
"Take it off," Cersei panted tugging at the hem of her own sweater.
Once they had pulled all their clothes off, Cersei tangled around Jon; she couldn't stop touching him, couldn't keep her hands off him, and he couldn't keep his hands off her. She moaned as he rolled over again, onto her, and ground his hips firmly, deliberately, between her spread thighs. His tongue slipped against hers, and she quivered at his next slow grind against her.
They kissed hard, harder, their hips bucking, her leg thrown across his. When he broke the kiss she gasped, pressing her face against his chest, a bolt of pure desire sizzling up her spine, tingling in her skin. "Oh yes oh God yes," she moaned, her nails dragging against his back as she stroked him with her other hand. He slipped two fingers in and out of the slick hollow of her sex, stroking her clit with his thumb, and she shuddered, rocking and grinding against his fingers.
"Oh," she gasped when he broke their kiss, to bury the thick, hard length of his erection, between her legs. He reached down and grasped her hips, guiding her as she moved against him, their lips once again joined in ever more passionate kisses.
Cersei cried out as she reached her climax, her inner flesh still pulsing and throbbing against his cock. Jon followed not long after. She was just beginning to relax when his fingers found her clit and began to finger her.
"Jon," she whimpered, but it felt too incredible for her to stop him. She brought her hand up to run her fingers through his hair, and she arched when he nipped at her breast.
Suddenly they both froze at a sound. The sound of tires crunching against ice in the driveway; the grumble of the motor as it began to pull the garage door up.
They both scampered to pick up their clothes and ran to their respective bedrooms. Cersei had just closed herself in the bathroom when Rhaegar walked in to the house through the kitchen.
-cjcjcjcjcj-
It happened at Thanksgiving!
The Starks were over for Thanksgiving dinner. The young adults were engaged in a game of "Never have I ever" in Jon's bedroom, with alcohol flowing freely and dares getting more personal.
There was an announcement of dinner being served from downstairs but was promptly ignored by the youngsters. Somebody's phone buzzed with the request to come down which too was given no mind for the game was getting intense.
Finally, the door opened to Jon and Sansa intimately kissing, while the rest of the youngsters looked on with open mouths. He broke the kiss to look into the smoldering gaze of Cersei Lannister.
The rest of the night was a blur. Jon trying to catch Cersei's eyes and Sansa trying to catch Jon's. Both unsuccessful.
It was past midnight, but Cersei wasn't home yet. The party long over, the guests in the comfort of their own home and even Rhaegar fast asleep.
The sound of the front door opening had Jon racing down to catch her before she slipped into the room she shared with his father.
He wants to tell her that the kiss was a dare, that Sansa has a crush on him and that he knows he doesn't feel the same. Instead he questions, "What is the meaning of this, where were you?"
Cersei snarls back, "What's it to you? Shouldn't you be in bed dreaming about your little red head?"
He smirks, "Why do you care? You're not falling for me, are you?"
Twack!
His cheek burns where Cersei left her handprint. He walks away without another word and pretends it doesn't hurt when she doesn't follow.
There's no mistaking the fact that he is in love with Cersei, the woman his father is married to. Next day, he leaves home to go back to his apartment.
Cersei doesn't call once.
It's New Years, and he's sloshed while holed up alone in his flat when there's a knock on the door that won't stop, no matter how many times he screams to go away.
With a bottle of wine in his hand, uncorked with no glass, Jon throws the door open, a witty insult on the tip of his tongue. However, the sight in front of him takes his breathe away.
Literally, she takes his breathe away.
It's pouring rain. She stands there drenched, with her clothes sticking to her and hair sticking to her face. She is a hot mess.
"What do you want?" rasps Jon.
She visibly swallows. "I asked for a divorce."
Even though he suspects he might regret it, that it might hurt him, Jon steps aside and lets her in.
-Fin-