III
Sinful
*tries to make a 3-4k chapter* *makes a 7k chapter* sorry lmao! I thought it would be much shorter :) Next chapter soon ;3
It was an absurdly hot morning, the sun seemed to beat down on the south. Margaery and her court ladies sat in a whitewashed tea house at the far end of the castle courtyard, watching the swans glide over the crystal pond.
Apparently, Margaery had a lot of court ladies she didn't even realize were apparent. Not only Lucinda, and Blair sat with her, but three other new girls, all with long, extravagant, aristocratic names Margaery didn't remember. All perfect blue blood noblewomen. These girls were brats, Margaery knew, but she considered maybe she was too being present with the wealthy life of royalty most of her years.
So, as the morning sun rose, the girls chatted and laughed and sipped English breakfast tea over the continuous hum of cicadas.
"Do you want to know the most shocking thing?" One of the newer girls said, not to anyone in particular, as she reached over the porcelain kettle for the sugar. The other girls turned to look at her, all of there danging earrings glittering marvelously. "Mirabelle Winters told me, just the other evening, that Adelaide the Fair cheated on her husband and slept with Clifton, one of the little squires!"
Margaery wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculous unfamiliar names but when the other girls giggled, she found herself smiling among them, feeling urged to conform.
"Mirabelle isn't even a credible source. Shes' a liar and a whore," the girl with the short blonde hair said darkly. "I heard she slept with Adelaide's brother and her husband!"
Margaery listened intently to the gossip as she sipped her English tea. These girls were nothing but drama. It was interesting, yes, but still drama. She only imaged the horror if one of these girls discovered what she had been up to just the other night.
A warm breeze passed causing the branches above to bow and creak, the rows of violets gently swayed.
"Lady Margaery," Lucinda addressed her suddenly, as she set down her china teacup with a clink, "are you excited to be the queen? The wedding is very soon, is it not?" her eyes were oddly soothing, blue as the pond just over there.
"Oh yes, I'm counting down the days," Margaery said, it was only her voice that was speaking, and all the brats at the table were looking at her. "It's just a moon away."
To her surprise, most of the girls gasped and squealed with enthusiasm.
"Wow, have you seen your dress?" said a girl with brown curls and a big frilly ribbon, as she sliced her teacake. Margaery didn't have time to reply because another girl jerked in, seizing her attention.
"How are you wearing your hair? Maybe it should be down?"
"The wedding should be right on the bay!"
"I wish I was getting married."
"You're so lucky!"
Margaery couldn't keep up with all these girls exclaiming their ideas to her at once.
"You're going to be queen! Queen Margaery Baratheon! Can you imagine?" Lucinda said and this comment actually stuck with her.
Queen Margaery Baratheon. Just thinking about it made her shudder with nervous excitement. A part of her worried it may be too much pressure having to be perfect with the people, the court, and her lover, watch everything she says and does with extreme caution for the rest of her days...but she had quickly suppressed the negative aspects, telling herself she must always be confident. I will live a luxurious life as the queen.
"It all seems so surreal," Margaery strangely found herself admitting to them.
"Are you excited to kiss the king at your wedding?" Blaire inquired with a sly raise of her dark brows.
I already have kissed the king, Margaery thought with a coy smile. She recalled the magic of the previous night. "I'm looking forward to sleeping in the same bed as him."
The ladies burst out in a fit of giggles.
"I bet," the curly brunette said, "he's gorgeous."
"And all mine," Margaery sighed, appearing unaffected, as she gazed off. He's gorgeous and all mine. She couldn't wait to unravel him.
"You're so lucky!" the blonde girl whined. "I want to have sex!"
A few girls giggled, a few looked at her strangely, Margaery among them. Of course, the girl wanted to have sex, she did too, they all did! But you don't say it out loud. The thought of having sex with Joffrey tickled her stomach.
"I've never had it," the girl explained herself, bashfully. "My eldest sister says it feels incredible. If he does it right."
"It's true," agreed Blair. "I've had many men, the experience is always so different from the last. It's always better if he knows what he's doing."
"Well, obviously," Margaery rolled her eyes.
Margaery imagined sex with Joffrey would be the most incredible experience of her life. She wouldn't trade him for ten thousand Prince Charmings.
Her gaze drifted over the courtyard and spotted Sansa approaching, looking rather miserable wearing a long plain dress with an apron and bonnet. She carried a platter of some kind of pastries, fluffy and powdered, the fattening kind, and a large pitcher of ice water and along with another kettle of breakfast tea.
"Good morning," Sansa mumbled under her breath, as she was close enough, ascending the white wooden steps, keeping her eyes glued to her feet. She was refraining from looking to Margaery.
It deeply pained Margaery to see her like this. It was cruel and unfair, but what was there to do? If she were to go the king and disagree with his decision it could end badly for her, but it was a risk Margaery was willing to take for her friend. She was usually able to wittily talk her way to getting anything.
Although she was just the queen consort and didn't have any true power of the king legally, perhaps she could find a way to convince him being Sansa being handmaid was not in his best interest.
As the other girls continued to chat, Sansa set the platter of pastries down on the wooden table and proceeded to fill each one of their teacups.
"Sansa," Margaery said, peering at the girl with concern as she began to hesitantly fill her cup. The Stark girl's head remained low but Margaery continued. "It's good to see you. We'll have to talk later."
Sansa peeked up at her, sadness haunting her eyes. Words seemed to tremble on her lip, but she remained silent.
"Your queen addressed you, vermin," one of the spoiled court ladies spat at Sansa, and immediately, Margaery snapped to her defense.
How dare she speak to Sansa like that! Margaery thought, then realized she was very much in charge of all these ladies.
"Lenore, is it?" Margaery piped up, sending a chilling glare her way. "Watch your tongue when speaking to my friend, or next time, I'll have it cut off."
The court lady's eyes widened with genuine fear, and as the other girls cast glares her way, she turned a shameful shade of red. They were perfect little minions, actual sheep, and seemed to conform to whatever Margaery wanted. They had quickly reordered their social hierarchy, placing Margaery on top.
Sansa looked to Margaery in shocked disbelief.
The ladies murmured to one another and gently began talking again on they realized Margaery was done reprimanding the girl.
"Sansa," she addressed, her among the chatting, her tone had cooled down.
"Thank you, your grace," Sansa mumbled, her eyes averting to the ground.
"I'm terribly sorry about that. She will never behave like that again," Margaery vowed.
Sansa's expression hinted slight gratefulness and perhaps a bit of fear, but she remained silent. It was obvious she was very sad, and Margaery's heart ached for the poor girl.
I will find a way to make things better, she silently swore to herself.
Then it struck her, the sudden bright idea to speak with the queen regent about it. She was less close-minded than Joff, more logical and understanding at times. It would be much easier to come to her with this request. Although the king was in charge overall, he may just agree with his mother's decision if she could present it in a certain way.
Margaery pondered it for a while and as a gentle rain shower began to hail over them, all the women began to worry about their hair and makeup, whining and crying in the damp wind blowing into the teahouse, all except Margaery and Sansa who were silent, suffocated in thought.
That evening, just as the sun was setting over the west, Margaery settled in her room, reading a book by the window in the fading light. If she was being completely honest with herself she was very disappointed with how today turned out. She was very bored all day, working on her embroidery, reading and studying, and speaking with Lord Tyrion about some legalities and duties she will have as the queen. The whole day, her mind was elsewhere, as an infatuated teenage girl, all she could think of was the king and what they had done last night.
Over and over the night had played in her head, and all day she found herself fantasizing about the way he kissed her, his mouth, hot and eager against hers, then trailing down her throat. Lust was nothing new to her, but this was something different. Oh, Joffrey Baratheon. Everything about him was so attractive for some reason. It had hardly been a day and she missed him so much.
He told me would see me tomorrow, and now tomorrow is over, she thought with a gloomy sigh, sending her gaze to the sunset. She wondered if she had the kind of power to simply walk over to his private chambers and say hello. After the thought crossed her mind, she felt herself getting excitedly hooked on this idea, considering maybe she should just do it.
But what if he doesn't want to see me? If he wanted to see me, he would have done so, she advised herself, but then thought that was foolish. Of course, he wants to see me! It's me!
But I don't want to be rude and just barge in, she argued with herself silently, getting more and more frustrated before praying to the gods for help.
She decided it wouldn't be rude to stop by a say hello, considering how intimate they'd been lately. But I don't want to be clingy. What if he thinks that? But I want to see him...
Just as she was reassuring herself it would be fine, preparing to visit him, by running a brush through her long chestnut waves, a loud rapping on the door almost made her jump out of her skin. Before she had time to think, there was a gruff voice hollering behind the wood.
"Royal escort!"
Escort? She thought strangely, walking towards the door.
"What escort?" she called back, her swift fingers working the lock.
When Margaery yanked open the heavy door, she suddenly felt her knees go weak, as if she might faint. Her breath seized and her heart leaped in her throat, as she came eye to eye with the king himself. Towering over him, was his personal bodyguard Sandor Clegane, who actually frightened her a bit.
She stared into Joffrey's powerful artic eyes for a few rapid heartbeats in silence, before remembering to breathe.
He was smiling at her with his gleaming, sharp teeth, seemingly pleased with her shocked reaction as if he had been planning to catch her off guard all day. But that's just another thing she loved about him.
He's so unpredictable. That's a good thing, she told herself.
Like always, he looked and smelled absolutely incredible. He was wearing all black again, glittering diamond chains hung around his neck, and on both hands, many different rings with diverse twinkling gems, catching in the firelight, and of course, his gleaming, twisted, crown, crooked on his golden head.
She wanted to dash into his inviting arms and hug him tightly, breathe him in and never let go. But fear held her back. She worried he might be uncomfortable or push her off. He probably doesn't want his hound to know of our intimacy.
"Joffrey, my love," she breathed, her heart racing. She felt a wave of relief being able to say his name today. "It's so good to see you."
"Margaery," he greeted her with enthusiasm, looking like a mere child next to the giant hound. "Did you miss me?" He inquired pompously, his dimples made her heartache. What a dream, what an absolute little dream.
"Oh, more than you can imagine," she gushed, feeding into his ego, gazing at him under her heavy lashes.
"Good," he smiled pretentiously, crossing his arms. "I came to invite you to have dinner with me," a smile taunted his lips.
Dinner with him. The gods heard my prayers, her heart danced with joy.
"Oh, I'd be delighted to," she cried, hardly able to contain her excitement.
He smiled pleasantly.
"If I could just slip into something-"
"No need to change," he broke in quickly, and she froze catching his eye. "You look good." His tone was calm for once and made her heart flutter.
She laughed her sweet exciting laugh, "You're too sweet, Joffrey," she said, unable to hide the blush sweeping over her cheeks.
Suddenly, he was offering his arm out to her and Margaery hastily took it, without another thought.
They ambled their way through the long corridors in silence, her heart slammed against her chest as she clung to his warm arm. The contact between them was electric. She was so relieved was able to at least touch him once today. Just moments ago she was planning to eat a small dinner alone in her private chambers and go to sleep, but fortunately, Joffrey was one to surprise.
The Hound trudged behind them in silence, as they made their way through the empty, quiet hallways, dimly lit with wall torchlight. For some time the only sound was their footsteps clicking against the tile.
Margaery felt oddly on edge, and she was sure it was because Joffrey had her all mixed up.
She was good at playing the submissive, attentive girl he wanted, however, she wanted to refrain from doing that too much. She wanted to play by her own rules. Joffrey was used to everyone bowing down before him and worshipping at his feet, so of course, it would catch his attention if she was different. Obviously, she would obey her king as a dutiful wife and queen, but all while pulling his strings. She liked to throw him off, and similarly to him, she enjoyed reactions too, and his were priceless.
Shadows struck across the wall in the flame's glow, and Margaery, who was on edge, was startled by them and flinched, and immediately stiffening against the king, hugging his soft velvet arm with instinct.
He sensed her tension, because suddenly his eyes trained on her, a subtle frown burdening his serious mouth. However, he said nothing, and they continued to make their way to the royal dining hall in somewhat unsettling silence.
Margaery scrambled to think of something, anything to speak to him about but nothing would come to mind. It seemed her brain couldn't function properly in his presence.
Fortunately, Joffrey began talking instead.
"Our wedding is only a moon away," he started casually, glancing over at her.
"Yes, I'm very excited," she said with visible sincerity.
"They need to start making your dress," he continued. "For the wedding. We'll have you sized tomorrow morning, alright?"
She initially had plans for breakfast with her girlfriends, but she could, without a doubt, reschedule that for another time.
"Perfect. I can't wait," Margaery beamed at him. Suddenly she thought of something very clever. "Do you have one picked out for me yet?" she asked him, looking at him a certain way, one that made him flush, only the slightest bit.
Joffrey raised his eyebrows, bemused. "Picked one out?" he echoed, obviously he had assumed she was choosing her dress.
"Um. No, not yet," he said quickly going along with it, merry to just have control of one more thing.
She was thrusting more power into his hands but it felt oddly right, like how things were supposed to be, and she adored to see his smile.
"I'll be there with you tomorrow morning," he seemingly decided on the spot, his expression was unreadable.
Margaery tightened her grip on his arm. He was so sweet.
"I'm looking forward to it, your grace," she said. "To seeing you."
"Joffrey," he reminded her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze back. She stared into his mesmerizing ocean eyes, blue as a robin's egg; they were beautiful but they seemed to beat her down.
You complete my soul, she wanted to say to him.
"Joffrey," she echoed him instead, her voice hardly a breath.
The air between them was beginning to grow intimate, and as soon as the fantasies of kissing him began sprouting in her brain, she tried to push them away. Now is not the time. She asked herself, why not kiss him, though? They had done it last night. But again, fear stopped her. Part of it was because she knew they mustn't show too much affection in front of anyone until they are married. She knew he probably wasn't comfortable with them frenching each other in front of his bodyguard. The bigger reason or the real reason she didn't kiss him was fear of rejection. She was afraid he might push her away. She didn't want to seem too aggressive either. She was positive she should just spend more time with him before she could just kiss him whenever she felt like it.
All too soon, they reached the dining hall, his family was already seated and had begun to dig into the giant feast before them. Again, there was enough food to accommodate an entire party.
"Ah, how nice of you to finally join us," Cersei simpered, as she spooned gravy onto her dish of sliced turkey.
"Your Grace," Margaery dipped her head respectively and slipped into her seat silently, trying to remain as unnoticeable as possible, while Joffrey, always putting on a show, marched over to his great dining chair, at the head of the table, with his loud clunky boots, and landed into his chair, instantly reaching for the dark bottle of ale, all while abruptly knocking a few things over as he did.
"Mother," Joffrey greeted her with a bit of delay, after a fat swig of alcohol. Margaery watched him from an arm's length away and she could already smell the pungent liquid hitting the air. She knew as soon as he started drinking he would grow more aggressive.
As always, Jaime puffed on his pipe at the dinner table, and he chuckled at Joff through a haze of smoke. "I have some aged liquor you would really like, Joffrey."
"Jaime," Cersei said, giving him a look of disapproval.
"The boy's nearly sixteen," Jaime reasoned with her.
"And a king may drink whatever he likes," reminded Joffrey, snapping at his mother, with a scowl.
Cersei only sighed and sipped her wine, as her brother got to his feet and started towards the far shelf, his tremendous collection of fine wine and liquor. As they all picked at their dinner, Jaime started reading off the labels on each bottle with enthusiasm, even opening a bottle or two to smell and taste them, testing for satisfaction.
"You'll like this," said Jaime, returning with a bottle of aged whiskey, that glowed amber in the crackling firelight.
"Joff," Cersei said, as he took a sip."I wanted to speak to you about something." He disregarded her words, but she continued anyway. "A queen can never have too many court ladies."
Right then, Margaery was very interested in what she was about to say.
"Even when Robert was around, I always had many court ladies attending me," she said reminiscing for a brief moment. "But I wanted to suggest to you something that could be beneficial, just for the moral of the court."
"Well, what is it?" he demanded, growing impatient.
"Perhaps, you could reconsider your hasty decision to employ the little Stark girl with a servant occupation," Cersei said, and Joffrey's eyes flickered with irritation at the mention of Sansa.
Margaery was internally ecstatic that Cersei was addressing this issue, though she was messy with her words, she noted. Joffrey didn't want to be told any of his decisions were hasty.
"Hasty decision?" Joff narrowed his eyes at his mother, confirming Margaery's idea.
"She doesn't need to be employed and taking away from our economy. She is a lady, not a peasant," Cersei explained, and Margaery hoped her words would somehow appeal to him.
"So what is your suggestion?" Joffrey retorted, his tone still laced with irritation, but Margaery and Cersei both seemed relieved he was even willing to listen. "That she should be a court lady?" he scoffed.
"It's just a suggestion," confirmed Cersei, her eyes wandered over to Margaery. "The decision is completely up to you. You are the king. It may be more ideal for your queen to have plenty of court ladies. More friends may help her adjust her new life here, it will make the process more comfortable, don't you agree? You do the wish the best for your beloved Margaery, do you not?"
Underneath the table, Margaery sensibly reached for his thigh, continuing, even when he tensed, to gently rub and squeeze him.
Cersei waited for his response for a few moments as the king awkwardly shifted in his chair, before the fact she had asked him something seemingly clicked with him.
"Uh, yes. Of course," he said his, voice jumping with some discomfort.
Margaery and Cersei worked together to get what they wanted from him. When Margaery looked to the queen, her feline eyes were already trained on her, and she wondered if she knew where her hand was at the moment.
She was so relieved the queen had the same train of thought as she. She had been planning to speak with Cersei on this exact issue.
"Do you approve of my suggestion, my love?" simpered Cersei, "We can discuss it at the small council meeting tomorrow afternoon."
Joffrey considered this thought for a moment, taking another sip of Jaime's precious liquor, Margaery and Cersei both awaiting his answer patiently. Cersei didn't seem to be too concerned with this whole thing, yet Margaery still wondered why she was pushing for Sansa to be a court lady.
She continued to caress his thigh, affectionately. Her dainty fingers dared to slowly, gently run along the inner side of his leg, gliding over the fabric.
"I suppose it won't be any difference to me," he finally said with a stressed sigh, shifting again in his seat.
"This is a smart decision on your part, my dearest son," Cersei said.
Margaery realized Cersei had only somewhat figured out the technique of speaking to Joffrey. She was decent at making him feel in charge, smart and powerful, but it was Margaery who had already mastered using her words to get what she wanted from him, by gushing over him, glorifying him, yet still working her way through him.
"Yes," Jaime finally spoke up, agreeing with his sister. "We may also marry her off to whomever we like. This could be a good opportunity for an alliance. Or perhaps a large sum of money?"
"Hm," Joffrey's bright blue eyes wandered out the window, towards the stars. Margaery could tell he was beginning to get bored with this. He seemed to sink into thought for quite some time, her hand still resting on his thigh under the dinner table then suddenly his alert questioning eyes were fixed on her.
"Margaery," he said, his voice low and tantalizing when Cersei and Jaime continued to have their own conversation from across the table. "We should go somewhere together."
Her stomach was a fluttering mess due to his words and low tone. He was close enough so when he spoke his warm breath ghosted over her. She kept watching his teeth, so sharp and gleaming white.
Joffrey had leaned forward a few inches, his cologne was always so enrapturing. She could smell the whiskey on his breath.
"I want to be alone with you again."
This time the fluttering feeling she felt wasn't only in her stomach, but between her legs now as well. He always had a way of doing this to her, without even laying a finger on her. She squeezed his thigh, tenderly, wishing more than anything she could go back to his room with him.
She was somewhat frustrated though, he got her so wound up and they couldn't even play. It wasn't his intention—or maybe it was, but either way, Margaery knew this tension would get too tight and eventually snap. They were bound to break soon, and it would be way before their wedding night.
"Let's go," she murmured leaning in closer than he ever dared, almost nose to nose, teasing him with her divine fragrance and long lashes. "Joffrey."
His eyes flashed with wild excitement, and he downed the rest of his whiskey in one harsh swig, then got to his feet, slamming his goblet on the polished oak.
"Excuse us, mother, uncle," he announced with a dip of the head to each of them, and offered Margaery his hand, pulling her to her feet as well. "I'm going to show my lady my enormous collection of weapons."
"Right now? In the middle of dinner?" Cersei looked conscientiously from one to the other of them with tense eyes.
"We've had our fill," insisted Joffrey, tugging Margaery along by the hand. "When are you going to realize rules don't apply to me, mother?"
Jaime laughed through a puff of pipe smoke, and Cersei sighed her familiar sigh of defeat, the usual one, whenever she questioned her son over anything.
Margaery clung to his hand soft, boyish hand, her eyes trained to the back of his blonde head, as he led her from the room.
Times like this made her truly forget how much younger the boy king was from her. The power in his grip made her feel like she was being tugged around by some big, tough man, but it was just her bossy, little Joffrey. He was truly something special, though. She had already given her entire heart to him. No man had ever struck her with such an intense feeling of want—need.
They slipped out into the dim hallway and hurried through the shadows as he pulled her along. She followed without question, holding his hand tightly wondering where they were off to.
She wondered what they would do. The other night, when they were kissing it occurred to her that something could have gone down if that guard hadn't interrupted them. Now there was a good chance he was now going to take her somewhere where to ensure that doesn't happen again.
The thought of having sex with him struggled against her chest, burning low in her core. It felt very plausible, at the moment, as he led her to some unknown location. She couldn't wait to please him in every way she could imagine.
They passed by guards, who watched them oddly but didn't say a word to object. No one was stupid enough to question their king.
As they passed through an iron set of doors, they were suddenly under the curtain of nightfall, the cool, fresh air sending chills over Margaery's skin. They were in an open wing, an overpass of some sort; a part of the castle she had never been before. The courtyard was visible down below, and far off towards the other end of the castle, she could see the garden. They followed along the path, to meet another cluster of tall, pointed towers and long halls, passing more guards as they walked.
"Joffrey," she said, nervous excitement racing through her voice. "Where are we headed?"
"Somewhere where no one can bother us," his tone was coarse, his words meeting her prediction, and he glanced back at her, his eyes seemed to eat right through her.
Joffrey's hair appeared white in the moonlight, his gleaming crown always tipping at an angle. She squeezed his hand gently, as they reached another set of doors.
They slipped in, and Margaery was relieved to feel the pleasant warmth of being inside again. This room was very dimly lit with many rows of candles lining the walls. At first, Margaery thought the room was small, but when they followed a small roundabout, passing a beautiful fountain of stone carved angels, they finally emerged into a massive cathedral, the room so grand and tall, she could hardly see the ceiling rafters through the haze of sage smoke, wafting through the air. There were church pews, and towering pillars leading up to a set of stairs before a grand alter and beautiful glorious glass window.
Margaery looked around in awe, surprised she had never seen the royal cathedral. It was beautiful and peaceful, yet eerily silent. For some reason, it gave off an ominous vibe, and she felt uneasy in this dark, empty church.
The tension had expired almost instantaneously as her thoughts returned to Joffrey, his eyes, bright, even in the dark, were suddenly fixed on her.
It then clicked with her that they were completely alone. There was not another living, breathing soul in this cathedral.
Without thinking, she started towards him, and her heart slammed against her chest until they collided as one.
Before she even had time to regret what she just did, his tongue was already in her mouth, his possessive arms, coiled tightly around her tiny waist like a trap, welcoming her into his grasp.
Joffrey squeezed her tightly against him, so their bodies molded to one, as his wet tongue devoured her, flicking over hers with congested, overflowing lust. His mouth was sweet of whiskey, and she could feel his heartbeat hammering against his chest too, against her exposed cleavage. She felt like the luckiest girl in the words and ironically thanked the gods for letting them use this chapel for sin.
Suddenly he was ripping away from her, his dark, glowing eyes frantically assessing the aisle way they were in.
"What's wrong?" Margaery asked, worry haunting her voice.
"Let's move out of the open," he growled, his cold hand was then tugging her along the endless row of benches, up the steps, past the altar, veering off into the shadows by the pipe organ.
Once safely hidden in the shadows, Joffrey then pinned her against the cool, stone wall, with force, his hot mouth starving against hers. He was never gentle, but she liked it. The feeling when he was in charge, pulling and pushing her around, kissing her with such hunger, it was indescribable. Currently, it was turning her on, she could feel herself growing wetter by the moment.
He pushed against her, and she almost lost it when she felt his hardened member, press against her thigh, and instinctively, she shifted into him so he was perfectly positioned at her core.
It was like lightning running through her body, just the feeling of pressure against the sensitive sweet spot between her legs, let alone the source of that pressure being his perfect, hard cock.
She imagined how amazing it would feel if he drove it inside her, the feeling of his length filling her up. She wondered what it looked like, what it tasted like. It was such a delicious thought now in her head, she slowly began grinding against his hardened crotch, her fingers curling through the golden blonde locks at the back of his neck.
"Joffrey," she breathed into their kiss, her hand trailing down to his abdomen, resting there in that intimate spot. She had a brilliant idea. "I want to taste you," she murmured into his open mouth, and his eyes opened to reveal suppressed anxiety.
"Please, my king," she whispered, coaxing him, and this time, she bravely dared her fingers to gently slip their way beneath his garment, and so for the first time, she could feel the subtle muscles of his abdomen, "I'll make you feel good."
At first, he tensed when her fingers moved over his soft skin, exposed to her touch. She imagined what he looked like shirtless. She was so relieved he was allowing her to touch him.
A hot, rosy blush cursed his cheeks, and it had occurred to her again how young he was. He was so intimidating, and sharp, so good at carrying himself, it was easy to forget he was a just a young boy as well as a virgin.
Although he came off shy currently, she remembered he was quite the opposite, as he suddenly, roughly gripped ahold of her waist, his excited hands running down her hips to squeeze her thighs. She winced as he bit at her bottom lip again, this time not hard enough to draw blood, but it still stung with sharp pain.
"I will not disappoint you, Joffrey," she breathed against his jaw, kissing the soft skin of his chin and throat, making him sigh very quietly.
Her fingers wandered down his abdomen further, stopping at his brilliant gold belt buckle. She met his eyes, awaiting approval. She was eager to satisfy him. She couldn't' wait to hear him moan.
"Yes, do it," he hissed anxiously, his warm breath ghosting over her in the dark.
At his command, she began to unravel him. She had been so eager for this very moment, and now she's finally getting what she wanted. Her fingers swiftly worked his belt buckle, prying it open. Her heart raced so quickly she felt it might burst.
She would not let him down, she vowed. She was going to be everything he wanted and more. She would satisfy all his needs, his deepest, darkest desires, and morbid fantasies.
Margaery unbuttoned the final shiny gold button on his trousers, and with her fingers trembling with excitement, she reached into his pants to grip the base of his hard pulsing member and pull him free.
His cock was thick and smooth in her hand, stiff as a blade. He was circumcised, she saw, as she examined his moderate length. He was so perfect. She realized then, she had been staring at it for too long, judging from the uncomfortable look on Joff's face when she glanced up to him.
"You're so big," she gushed over him, stroking his ego flawlessly, "How will you even fit, my king?"
Without waiting for his reply, she made him gasp softly in pleasure as she squeezed him gently in her palm and began to stroke his cock up and down slowly with her little fingers. He quivered with pleasure, then seemed oddly irritated.
"Down," Joffrey ordered, and she obediently slid down to her knees, looking up at him from the floor. "Open your mouth."
His abrupt hand found the back of her neck, his fingers lacing through her soft hair. She did as she was told, and opened her mouth wide, for him, as his hand forced against the back of her neck, as he pushed himself inside, forcing her to swallow all his length.
He groaned faintly at this new, wet, feeling, the sweet feeling of a girl's mouth around his cock.
She did not struggle to take all of it and gazed up at him under her long lashes only slightly tearing up at this new thick length.
She had never sucked only anyone's dick before, it was kind of enjoyable, but only because of the cute sounds he was making. However, she was going to try to have fun with this.
"Mm, I've been so eager to taste you, my sweet king Joffrey," She said the last part seductively slow, then ran her tongue over the sensitive tip of his cock, making him groan with pleasure, and throwing his head back as her tongue continued to move down along his shaft.
"Mmm...yes...that feels nice," he moaned, stroking her hair gently, "good girl."
In response, she closed her lips tighter around him, sucking and swirling her tongue around the tip of his sweet cock, and grazing the small sensitive ridge beneath his head, before swallowing his length all the way back to the end of her throat, then back out. She repeated this, before allowing one of her hands initially gripping the back his thigh, to aid her working mouth, and begin pumping along his slick wet shaft.
"Ohh, fuck," he groaned, burying his dick further into her mouth. "My goddess. Don't stop."
His goddess.
Margaery's eyes watered at his sudden, choking length, as she gagged, yet she maintained herself, moaning sensually as the tip nearly reached her uvula, the soft smooth skin moving against her wet tongue perfectly. His balls were tight with arousal and grazed her chin as she took his length back as far as she could manage. She used her other hand to reach into his trousers, to squeeze them tenderly, careful to be very gentle with his sensitive sack, causing him to moan and sigh with pleasure.
How cute, her stomach fluttered at the sound of him. She was amazed by what she was doing to the king, and how vocal he was being. Her core was aching and throbbing with lust for him but she disregarded it, her only thought was to make him feel good, she didn't care about her own needs at the moment, as she continued to suck on him, her head endlessly bobbing back and forth, her mouth working him with care.
"Ohh..mmmm, Margaery..." He groaned with pleasure, throwing his head back again, "don't ever stop."
His grip tightened on her hair, he guided her head, as she sucked him, setting a quick pace for her.
"Come here," Joffrey ordered, as he suddenly took a step back and sat down on the bench before the pipe organ, and Margaery, on the floor, crawled over to him to allow her head to dip between his thighs again, eager to get him back in her mouth.
"I love your cock," she whimpered to him, before she sucked the end of it, licking up the few drops of his precious seed that had already seeped out.
Joffrey's hand pushed her head down roughly, forcing her to gag around him again, and this time he began thrusting hard and fast into her throat, harshly tightening his grip on her hair. His pace was beginning to grow too fast to keep up with.
"I know you can take more," he growled huskily at her between thrusts.
Every time she gagged it would entice him to grow rougher with her, clenching her hair tighter, driving his cock in deeper, but like a good girl, she whimpered for him, moaning around his cock.
"You like it rough," Joff hissed at her between his heavy breaths.
Margaery held onto both sides of the organ bench for leverage as he fucked her mouth. She knew he was about to burst any second as his thrusts grew heavier and faster, her eyes watering.
"Mmm...Margaeryy."
Just as she anticipated, after one more powerful thrust, he extracted his slick cock and stroked himself violently. He leaned back into the pipe organ by accident, seeking leverage, and causing it to roar it's glorious bellow, echoing through the massive empty cathedral, causing both of them to jump with fright. His hand suddenly slowed as he finally reached that sweet release. His hot seed spilled out, dripping all down her face, and then he pushed his cock back into her warm mouth, spending the rest of his cum down her throat.
She was unbothered by the warm, salty taste of his release, and after swallowing all he had to give, she popped his wet cock out of her mouth, sucking off whatever was left on the tip.
"What a good girl you are," he praised her, stroking her hair, before putting himself away. She was sure the gods were frowning upon their sinful, teenage scandal.
"I adore pleasing you, my king," she gazed up at him with devotion, as she wiped her face clean with the skirts of her dress.
They both got to their feet and for a brief moment, there was silence between them, the only sound being the clasp of his belt working in the dark.
"Let's go now," his sudden voice was frantic. "That organ was too loud."
Joffrey's excited eyes were slightly visible in the moonlight pouring through the stained glass.
He was so beautiful.
They stole through the church, back the way the came, and into the nighttime air. It was cool and refreshing after all that heat, however, Margaery needed a glass of water.
They hurried through the royal wing, Joffrey seemed on edge, she knew he just wanted to get safely out of sight.
Now in the light, Margaery could see how his cheeks had reddened from the excitement, his blonde hair ruffled and messy under his crooked crown. She was sure she looked a mess as well and wasn't positive what she would even say if they were stopped by someone.
She couldn't believe what they had just done. Oh, how scandalous. She couldn't imagine what her court ladies would say if shared this dirty little secret. She would never. He was hers and only hers, not just another pretty boy for the girls to fuss over and whisper about.
Just as they neared the armory, upon turning down the hall, golden with torch lights, they knew they were doomed.
Margaery's breath seized, and she heard Joff's gasp too, as his mother came into view down the hall.
What do we do? Margaery thought frantically, and before either of them had time to react, the queen's green feline eyes were already trained to them.
Margaery looked to Joffrey, her eyes wide with fear, but was surprised to see an amused smirk tugging on his lips.
"This should be good," he sighed, as the queen regent strode towards them, "Let me do the talking."