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It had begun snowing that morning, the flurries just starting to appear, the world outside cold and sparkling.
The cold doesn’t penetrate the warmth of their home – there’s a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, their Christmas tree decorated in the corner of the room, the scent of pine needles and cedar wreaths and cinnamon filling the air.
They had both had a stressful week, the holiday season taking its toll on them. They decided to go out for some drinks, a little something to take the edge off, to relax.
But then Rhaenyra had been all rosy-cheeked and loose-limbed, and the smile on Harwin’s mouth began to lift slightly higher on one side, and neither one could remember why they went out in the first place.
They sat at the bar, sipping their drinks, drawn together with Rhaenyra’s legs tucked between his, an endless, buzzing feedback loop everywhere they were touching. An acute form of torture for them both.
Rhaenyra cheeks grew steadily pinker, the color sweeping across her face, out towards her ears, down her neck, and Harwin had to try really hard, not to imagine the flush being caused by something other than alcohol.
So when she whispers that she has a surprise for him and slides one strap of her already low-cut dress to the side, revealing a deep red lace lingerie set, Harwin couldn’t get them home fast enough to unwrap her like a gift.
She had kicked off her heels at some point and stood on the balls of her feet, reaching up to his mouth with her own while he stooped down to meet her. She could feel his hands all over her, big, large, dominating hands, questing, grabbing firmly at her ass, covering all of her and pulling her into his tall, broad body.
He turns her around, his fingers making their way to the zipper of her dress, curling against the small of her back and gathering the fabric there like he’s talking himself out of ripping it, sliding the zipper down slowly.
She shimmies out of the dress and lets it fall to the floor, left only in the thin red lace of her expensive lingerie.
He sucks a breath, taking her in. Giving her a long, slow, lingering once-over. Gaze full of appreciation. She knows, he thinks, watching her watch him; she fucking knows how good she looks.
“Do you like it? It’s French lace,” she purrs, running her fingers across her chest, and Harwin’s stomach twists with heat.
“Yeah,” he says, ranking his fingers through his hair, staring at her with lust-hazed reverence and something a little like wonder, as if he’s witnessing something magical. “Yeah, it’s very pretty princess.”
He steps towards her, catching her mouth in a kiss she feels down to her toes, soft and hard and hungry, and there’s a warmth spreading through her that isn’t from the crackling fire in the room.
Rhaenyra smirks, pressing even closer. She’s shorter than him by eight or nine inches minimum, and her short stature is oddly endearing compared to his height.
“Get on the bed,” he growls, but she just quirks an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes, her expression inviting and combative all at once and he knew she would be like this – playful but also bratty, like she hadn’t been the one teasing him all night with her tight dress and fiery looks.
He cuts off any words she might say back with a kiss and backs her against the bed, crowding into her, sliding an arm under her to lift her, toss her, back onto the bed.
His hands look so fucking big like this, so big on her tiny frame, fingers long and thick, palms broad and callused. He slides his hands down her legs, a slow, sweet, featherlight touch up the inside of her thigh, and moves to tear at lace obstacle obstructing his one-way route straight to her cunt.
“Careful, you’re gonna rip them,” she huffs, but her face is soft on him.
“Don’t care,” he growls, shoving her legs apart, forcing himself between them. He’s a little rough about it, not wanting to be gentle, wanting to be just rough enough to turn the airy, desperate whine between her fucking princess lips to something more untamed. Something more wild.
He brushes his lips against the arch of her throat and looks up, watching her. Her eyes are closed, her fingers pressing into his back, and in a moment of wanting to own her, he bites down, sinking his teeth into her and taking a long, gratifying suck, marking her.
“You’ll leave a mark,” she says, a gasp floating to a moan as her head falls back, taking hold of his hair and pulling it.
“That’s the idea,” he rasps, smiling a little, wanting to leave a private mark in a private place, a little something just for them to see.
He runs a rough finger over it, the red spot that will bloom in a matter of minutes and admires his imprint on her. He finds it strangely alluring and bends his head to the curve of her breast, leaving more marks of tonight for her to come across tomorrow.
She’s starting to get grabby, spreading her fingers over his chest, tracking the angles of his face, his neck, the dips of his shoulders. Greedy for him to be all over her.
He lowers himself down her body, giving her big smacking kisses on his descent, and she makes this noise he loves - a breathless broken giggle that morphs into a moan and sigh.
“Oh,” he breathes, and she fists the sheets between her fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren’t you princess”
He traces a fingernail up the center seam of her underwear, then lets his tongue drag against the impossibly thin material. She whimpers, squirming around in his hold as he sucks her clit through the fabric, letting the added friction do its job.
She buries her hands deep into his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp, as she balls her hands into a fist. He sucks her clit into his mouth, swiping it roughly, pushing a finger into the velvet-wet clutch of her cunt as she shudders a breath.
He slips another finger inside her, and his mouth goes to work on her clit as his fingers hit that spot and she’s arching her hips.
He grabs her hips and pins them down, holding her as he flicks his tongue and swipes his fingers, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to her, pressing his hand hard into her stomach.
He knows she’s almost there from her whining and the helpless rocking of her hips, and he knows this is going to be a particularly good one.
Her hips are rising high, his mouth and fingers following her when she can't control her movements.
"Gonna come," she whines loudly, fingers gripping his hair and tugging, pushing and pulling, trying to get closer and move away, all at the same time. "Fuck— Harwin— fuck, shit I'm gonna—"
She comes with hard, legs shaking and toes curling, eyes squeezing shut as he presses insistently against her and laps at her clit. His beard rubs roughly against her and his free hand grips the flesh of her thigh as he coaxes her through it.
“That was a good one, huh,” he says, looking up at her with dark eyes and a grin, mouth glistening.
All she can do is nod, her mind fuzzy, a little dumb look on her face.
He nods back at her, moving to snatch a breathless kiss from her still-parted lips.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructs, voice deep and gravelly.
He humphs a breath against her mouth and reaches down to grab the back of her legs, hoisting her up and against him, walking them across the room. He maneuvers her against the vanity, setting her on top of it, turning her over to face the mirror.
“Look,” he says gruffly, his hands sliding up her neck to her chin, lifting her chin with his fingers. “Watch,” he clarifies, and fuck, she thinks, feeling his palms running down her spine to her hips, pressing her forward to brace against her elbows on the surface of the vanity.
Rhaenyra looks into the mirror and takes in her reflection. Her hair is a mess, a tangled frizz of blonde falling down her shoulders, she’s got bruises forming on her chest and neck from his mouth, and he’s standing behind her, eyes dark and hooded, his brow furrowed, jaw etched with tension, his tongue licking over his lips. She feels halfway to orgasm just looking at him.
He lines his hips up with hers, and he’s staring, first at her face, and then, as he spreads her legs apart again, at his cock as it nudges at her entrance and he pushes into her.
Rhaenyra was ready, she was more than ready, but still, it was a lot. He went slow, letting her adjust to the stretch of his thick cock. As he presses into her, he drops his hand to her cunt, sliding his fingers along her clit.
She took every last inch of him, feeling overwhelmingly, deliriously full, her thighs trembling a little and her cunt clenching for dear life. Her eyes fell shut and she couldn’t be bothered to open them, it was a close your eyes and feel kind of event.
He pulled out of her sharply, and she whines at the loss before he pushes back in just as fast, setting a fast rhythm, thrusting hard into her.
“Watch,” he growls again, taking hold of her hair and pulling it back so she’s looking at herself. She looks ruined, flushed cheeks, eyes glassy, lips swollen, her gaze half-lidded and unfocused. He reaches a hand to pinch her nipple firmly, and it’s a little too hard but it feels good. “Look at me,” he says, and she does, her eyes locking with his in the mirror, feeling the heat of his gaze, spreading wildfire through her. He’s fucking her hard and fast and a little bit mean, but she loves it.
“More,” her rasping panting moan slices through the air, and he tugs a little harder on her hair, pushes her a little further forward, his hips smacking against hers as he picks up the pace. She loves the way he makes her feel, the way he coaxes filthy words from her lips and wet sounds from her cunt.
She keeps watching him, taking in the way the muscles in his abdomen twitch as he moves.
He continues pushing into her and brings his palm up to encircle her neck, his thumb rubbing against her throat as he squeezes with the slightest bit of pressure. Her breath goes airy and desperate and her eyes squeeze shut at the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into his arm.
When she comes down enough to gain some bearing on where she is in the world, he turns her over and kisses her, her body still tingling and shaking. Everything is slow and sweet for a moment, and he picks her up and walks her over to the bed.
He presses her down into the mattress, resting his weight on his elbows as he cradles her head and devours her mouth, his skin is touching her in all the right places. He feels so heavy on top of her, and she loves that, wants him as close as possible.
She feels his arousal pushing against her heat and sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, biting down, his fingers burying into her hips. He presses into her with a steadfast, unfaltering rhythm. His grip is tight on her but almost endearing, holding her close against him.
His frame is huge and warm and invigorating, his arm, bulky with muscle, stretching out above hers, locking their fingers together. She’s caged in by the breadth of his shoulders, the intensity of his gaze, and she feels consumed in the best way possible.
“That’s it, let go for me,” he encourages against her mouth, panting, his breathing harsh and fast. He kisses her again, and she grips his neck so hard her nails bite into his skin. His body on her is compressing her lungs, keeping her slightly breathless as she writhers under him. All she can do is whimper and whine and take it, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter.
She comes with a high-pitched, desperate whine, and he groans, burying his face into her neck and nipping the skin there, the flutter of her cunt sending him over the edge.
He collapses onto her, completely still except for his ragged breathing and the few stutters of his heartbeat against her chest. She breathes out shakily, slowly releasing her death grip on him, the movements of their stomachs in synch as they both pant for air.
She’s completely boneless as he moves to lie down next to her, his arms tucked around her, holding her close, his softening cock still inside of her. He shifts them, making sure not to let himself slip from her body and she sighs at the feeling of still being full.
Harwin’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his heartbeat loud in her ears, the rhythmic thump of his heart lulling her into a sleepy state, and she feels like she’s in the beginning of a dream, where all that exists is the brush of his curls against her face, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his mouth.
His lips seek hers again and she keeps her hands on his face, loving the way his jaw moves under her fingers. Harwin pulls back then and she whimpers when she feels him slip from her.
She wiggles closer and presses herself up against him, always wanting to be closer, to feel his warmth. One of his hands is stroking her hair, the other drawing circles on her hip.
Rhaenyra rests her forehead against his, her fingers still gripping the back of his neck like she can’t imagine letting him get away from her. She raises her head to look at him, giving him a sleepy smile. He’s looking at her so fondly, affectionate and warm, and her heart could burst with how much she loves him.
The rest of the evening found them tucked up on the loveseat, Rhaenyra’s feet burrowed under Harwin as he rests his weight comfortably on Rhaenyra’s curled up legs. They watched three separate cheesy Christmas movies, each one worse than the last, and yet seemingly they tugged something in Rhaenyra’s chest. Or maybe that was just Harwin, the steady beat of his heart near her ear, beating slow and strong.
Outside, snow blankets the ground, a whirlwind of white gusting down, swirling and swiping in the sky, snowy fluffy white mounds building up around their home.
It’s peaceful, the warm crackling fire keeping their hearts warm.