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mirrorwitches) wrote2023-07-11 07:03 pm
mirrorwitches) wrote2023-07-11 07:03 pm
(hotd) substitution, chapter two
SUBSTITUTION, CHAPTER 2
🐉masterpost🐉
“I need you there. For emotional support.”
Alicent glares at the back of Rhaenyra’s elaborately braided head from where she is lacing up her wedding dress. “Rhaenyra, be serious.”
“I am,” her friend insists, trying to turn around and throw her big beseeching eyes at Alicent. “You don’t understand. It’s so big.”
“Rhaenyra!” she hisses, shoving her back around roughly and pulling the laces so tight the princess squeals.
“I’m scared. It’s so big and I’m so small and he might break me!” She can barely keep the laughter from her voice. But it was no laughing matter. Running a cloth over Rhaenyra’s body in the bath earlier it had struck her, how delicate that lovely form was, how strange and impossible it was it would take Daemon’s body into itself that night.
“Marriage is sacred to the gods. A sacrament between man and wife. A private sacrament.”
“Daemon and I don’t know anything about any of that. Which is why we need you there to keep us on track. Who knows what we’ll get up to without you to instruct us in the proper way.”
Unfortunately Alicent has an idea what they could get up to. When she’d dubiously asked Rhaenyra if it was really true that all these months she’d not let Daemon lie with her she’d said, we have hands and mouths, don’t we?
She knew all about their hands and mouths.
One of her braids is coming loose. Alicent jabs the pin back in so hard Rhaenyra yelps before laughing again. She can’t stop laughing, she’s so pleased with herself.
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“You can pray over us if you want,” Rhaenyra offers with relish as she is finally permitted to turn around, every inch the bride. She puts her hands on Alicent’s arms.
“Oh, don’t,” Alicent pleads.
“Alright, how about this. Daemon’s last marriage was dissolved for non-consummation. I won’t bleed because of Syrax. I might someday need a witness to the act.”
“That’s it? That’s why you’re asking this?”
“Of course,” Rhaenyra says. “That’s all.”
-
Which is how Alicent gets the wish that bloomed up last time, never articulated, quickly buried: Rhaenyra’s head in her lap while her uncle puts his mouth to her cunt.
Rhaenyra is naked. So is Daemon. Alicent had consented to disrobing to her shift but no farther.
She strokes that silken head and watches the way Rhaenyra’s face twists from euphoric smile to gasps that look pained. She can't help but cast glances down her body—Rhaenyra’s hand at her own breast, pinching her nipples stiff and red—down to where Daemon works at her. One hand spans her entire stomach, holding her down as her back arches off the bed. Rhaenyra grips at her new husband's hair, holding his head in place so she can grind her cunt up into his face. Her heels dig into the burns that striate his back.
The way Rhaenyra’s head tosses in her lap as she comes has Alicent breathless when she says, “Since you wanted my guidance, to my understanding this is not what is meant by the bedding ceremony.”
Both Daemon and Rhaenyra laugh in tandem. It's unsettling.
“Lady Hightower,” Daemon says, unsealing his mouth with an audible pop as Rhaenyra’s giggles give way to pained mewls. “Come here.”
“What?” Alicent squeaks. “I do not need—instruction.”
“Hm. Still. There’s something I want you to see.”
Alicent goes. A childish demand for balance. Rhaenyra had seen her like this—loose, hot, wet, open—and it’s only fair that Alicent saw the same. She joins Daemon between Rhaenyra’s legs, making sure they don’t touch.
Pretty, and pink, and the sounds. Daemon is petting the little slit where she had taken two of his fingers as Rhaenyra whimpers, and Alicent can’t help it. Her eyes dart nervously to where Daemon’s hard cock stands up between his thighs. She swallows.
It is big. And Rhaenyra is so small.
“How?” she blurts out.
Daemon laughs. Rhaenyra, propped up on her elbows, looks a little nervous. He smiles up at her in a way that can only be described as sweet and kisses her knee. “We’ll make it work.” Then he turns to Alicent with heat in his eyes. “I wanted you to see two things. First—I am going to make myself fit—” Alicent’s attention is glued to where he slides his two fingers back up her cunt and even they seem obscenely large, Rhaenyra swollen and straining around them. Alicent instinctively gives a sympathetic caress to her other knee. “—here. And second…” he lowers his mouth again to the hard bud above where she splits apart around his fingers and makes Rhaenyra keen as Alicent watches her cunt tighten and relax around him, tighten and relax, in a rapid flutter—“I’m going to make sure she enjoys it.”
All that just from hands and mouths, mouths and hands.
With his free hand Daemon smacks Rhaenyra’s flank in a way that makes her clench around him on a shout and says, “On your hands and knees.”
Alicent makes a strangled noise as Rhaenyra rapidly complies, turning over and presenting herself like a bitch in heat.
“It’ll be easier for her to take me this way than if she was on her back,” Daemon confides in Alicent. Is that true? It looks whorish, and Rhaenyra is a virgin bride. Technically.
But she ceases paying attention to Daemon when Rhaenyra grabs at her and whines, “Alicent, please,” and so she doesn’t get to watch him press his cock into her. In that moment she is kneeling before Rhaenyra, who clings to her by the shoulders, hands slipping down until she digs her nails into her upper arms hard enough to sting. She is gazing into Rhaenyra’s eyes as they fly open in shock, as a wounded moan falls from her lips.
“Rhaenyra,” she whispers, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You’re doing so well.”
He’s going to make you feel so good now, you just have to let it—
Her heart beats hard. Rhaenyra’s eyes are wet and wondering. “Uncle,” she cries. “Daemon, oh, Alicent—”
“That’s it, sweetling,” he says, and Alicent looks up at him. He is circling his hips very slowly, working himself into her a little at a time. The breadth of him seems huge behind her but he is moving so carefully. He runs a gentling hand down her spine and says breathlessly, “That’s it. Good girl. Lady Hightower, I’ve made a great sacrifice here for my wife’s comfort. I don’t get to see the look on her pretty face as she takes her first cock. What’s it like?”
Alicent’s own voice sounds thin and reedy as she says stupidly, “Very—very red, my prince,” and cups Rhaenyra’s burning cheek, her thumb wiping at a tear that slips from the corner of her eye. Rhaenyra turns her head desperately to kiss the salty pad and then she sucks it into her mouth.
“In pain?”
He can’t ask Rhaenyra; Rhaenyra is not capable of speech. It’s too much.
“A little. But she—she wants it more. She wants it more than it hurts.” Alicent’s own eyes sting.
“Here, let’s do this.” Daemon rests back on his heels so he’s kneeling. With his hands on Rhaenyra’s hips he directs her so she hovers over him with her legs hooked over his. Alicent can see his cock just breaching her and although Rhaenyra lets Alicent’s thumb fall out of her hot, pink mouth—Alicent shudders as the damp digit throbs, abandoned—she shuffles forward with her. “Fuck yourself back onto me.”
Rhaenyra rests her forehead against Alicent’s shoulder. She is taking great, inelegant, undignified huffs of air as she works herself down another inch, and another. Alicent’s hand cups her skull. It reminds her of one time when Queen Aemma was in the childbed and Rhaenyra had insisted on sneaking in, tugging Alicent along. Aemma had been positioned just like this, leaning on one of her ladies for support with a midwife where Daemon was peering between her thighs. Then they had been chased from the room. Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra when her own time comes, the result of this night or one of the countless ones to follow.
She shifts back so her hands are on Alicent’s shoulders again for balance as she lowers herself down onto Daemon’s cock. Her face is gilded with sweat like her mother’s in her labors, but a satisfied smile plays over her lips as she finally, finally takes him all the way into her.
“How does it feel?” Alicent finds herself asking, thumb pushing against the swell of Rhaenyra’s lower lip.
“Whole,” Rhaenyra says rapturously, her face ecstatic, the smile that twitches to life against her hand searing in its brilliance. “Like I was s-so empty, and I didn't even know it, oh gods—”
Daemon’s lips accidentally meet the back of Alicent’s hand as he showers adoring kisses on Rhaenyra’s head. “That's it, that's right, made for me, I told you I'd fit—”
How does it feel? She doesn't ask Daemon this as her thumb slips past Rhaenyra’s teeth to stroke her tongue, lips tightening around it with an overwhelmed moan, her cheeks wet and rippling around it.
With Alicent to steady her Rhaenyra raises herself up, brow knotting as she empties herself, smoothing out at the relief of filling herself up with him.
Alicent looks down. Rhaenyra tilts her head back to rest her head against Daemon’s shoulder, so he can bite at her ear and suck hungrily at her neck. One of Rhaenyra’s small breasts is swallowed by Daemon’s massaging palm, and when Alicent’s eyes reach her abdomen she pushes her forefinger into that greedy mouth along with her thumb, stretching it wide.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh gods.”
She can see it: the raised impression of Daemon’s cock stretching the skin of Rhaenyra’s tight stomach. Like she might have been right, like he really might break her. Alicent yanks her fingers from Rhaenyra’s mouth and as if compelled by some outside force presses her palm down against the bulge, touching Daemon Targaryen’s cock through the barrier of Rhaenyra’s flesh. He grunts in response. Rhaenyra howls, thrashing in his arms. She caresses it, apologizing, soothing, this tiny belly taking so much…
Rhaenyra is squirming in his lap as Daemon brings his hand down to grip her hip and hold her in place. His eyes glint wickedly as they meets hers. “Patience, niece. Your sweet little friend is going to help us, hm?”
Alicent takes her hand back and starts to shake her head before he even finishes. “No, I—”
“She needs to come. She’s hurting—just look at her.” Daemon’s other hand has both her hands pinned over where he strains at her and Alicent knows—can feel it in her own belly, in her—in her cunt, what she wants, what he’s preventing her from doing, exactly where it aches.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra sobs. “Alicent—”
“I’m sure Lady Hightower has heard the wise advice of our maesters—we’d never have cause to doubt the sages of Oldtown and their immense knowledge of the female animal—that for a woman to conceive she must reach her completion. Yes?”
He seems to genuinely wait for her answer. “Yes,” she admits in a very small voice.
“So to make this good in the sight of the gods—what is it the Septons say? I forget.”
Through gritted teeth: “The purpose of the marriage bed is the begetting of offspring.”
“Ah. Right. We wouldn’t want all this pleasure to go to waste, would we? How sinful.”
He kisses Rhaenyra’s shoulder and murmurs, “Just another moment, sweet girl,” never breaking Alicent’s gaze. To her he says, “You know what to do. I showed you.”
Tears slip down Rhaenyra’s face. Alicent puts her hand to that place that yearns for it. She begins to rub at that engorged nub and it doesn’t take long at all. At the first touch of her hand she can feel it, Rhaenyra’s cunt contracting, pulsing as her orgasm begins. She doesn’t know where she wants to look more: at Rhaenyra’s beautiful face as she falls apart—“that’s right, coming on my cock”—or Daemon’s, raw, flayed open with an awe Alicent wouldn't have believed possible, a thing that she is witness to, and—something else, because when he opens his eyes to slits to see her staring he smiles at her and says, just before he buries his head in his wife's hair as he comes—“yes, with Alicent being so nice to your clit, maybe you're right, maybe we’ll keep her, good girl, just keep at her, work her through it, let’s put a baby in her”—it’s like a reflection, like she is the one being witnessed.
🐉masterpost🐉
“I need you there. For emotional support.”
Alicent glares at the back of Rhaenyra’s elaborately braided head from where she is lacing up her wedding dress. “Rhaenyra, be serious.”
“I am,” her friend insists, trying to turn around and throw her big beseeching eyes at Alicent. “You don’t understand. It’s so big.”
“Rhaenyra!” she hisses, shoving her back around roughly and pulling the laces so tight the princess squeals.
“I’m scared. It’s so big and I’m so small and he might break me!” She can barely keep the laughter from her voice. But it was no laughing matter. Running a cloth over Rhaenyra’s body in the bath earlier it had struck her, how delicate that lovely form was, how strange and impossible it was it would take Daemon’s body into itself that night.
“Marriage is sacred to the gods. A sacrament between man and wife. A private sacrament.”
“Daemon and I don’t know anything about any of that. Which is why we need you there to keep us on track. Who knows what we’ll get up to without you to instruct us in the proper way.”
Unfortunately Alicent has an idea what they could get up to. When she’d dubiously asked Rhaenyra if it was really true that all these months she’d not let Daemon lie with her she’d said, we have hands and mouths, don’t we?
She knew all about their hands and mouths.
One of her braids is coming loose. Alicent jabs the pin back in so hard Rhaenyra yelps before laughing again. She can’t stop laughing, she’s so pleased with herself.
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“You can pray over us if you want,” Rhaenyra offers with relish as she is finally permitted to turn around, every inch the bride. She puts her hands on Alicent’s arms.
“Oh, don’t,” Alicent pleads.
“Alright, how about this. Daemon’s last marriage was dissolved for non-consummation. I won’t bleed because of Syrax. I might someday need a witness to the act.”
“That’s it? That’s why you’re asking this?”
“Of course,” Rhaenyra says. “That’s all.”
-
Which is how Alicent gets the wish that bloomed up last time, never articulated, quickly buried: Rhaenyra’s head in her lap while her uncle puts his mouth to her cunt.
Rhaenyra is naked. So is Daemon. Alicent had consented to disrobing to her shift but no farther.
She strokes that silken head and watches the way Rhaenyra’s face twists from euphoric smile to gasps that look pained. She can't help but cast glances down her body—Rhaenyra’s hand at her own breast, pinching her nipples stiff and red—down to where Daemon works at her. One hand spans her entire stomach, holding her down as her back arches off the bed. Rhaenyra grips at her new husband's hair, holding his head in place so she can grind her cunt up into his face. Her heels dig into the burns that striate his back.
The way Rhaenyra’s head tosses in her lap as she comes has Alicent breathless when she says, “Since you wanted my guidance, to my understanding this is not what is meant by the bedding ceremony.”
Both Daemon and Rhaenyra laugh in tandem. It's unsettling.
“Lady Hightower,” Daemon says, unsealing his mouth with an audible pop as Rhaenyra’s giggles give way to pained mewls. “Come here.”
“What?” Alicent squeaks. “I do not need—instruction.”
“Hm. Still. There’s something I want you to see.”
Alicent goes. A childish demand for balance. Rhaenyra had seen her like this—loose, hot, wet, open—and it’s only fair that Alicent saw the same. She joins Daemon between Rhaenyra’s legs, making sure they don’t touch.
Pretty, and pink, and the sounds. Daemon is petting the little slit where she had taken two of his fingers as Rhaenyra whimpers, and Alicent can’t help it. Her eyes dart nervously to where Daemon’s hard cock stands up between his thighs. She swallows.
It is big. And Rhaenyra is so small.
“How?” she blurts out.
Daemon laughs. Rhaenyra, propped up on her elbows, looks a little nervous. He smiles up at her in a way that can only be described as sweet and kisses her knee. “We’ll make it work.” Then he turns to Alicent with heat in his eyes. “I wanted you to see two things. First—I am going to make myself fit—” Alicent’s attention is glued to where he slides his two fingers back up her cunt and even they seem obscenely large, Rhaenyra swollen and straining around them. Alicent instinctively gives a sympathetic caress to her other knee. “—here. And second…” he lowers his mouth again to the hard bud above where she splits apart around his fingers and makes Rhaenyra keen as Alicent watches her cunt tighten and relax around him, tighten and relax, in a rapid flutter—“I’m going to make sure she enjoys it.”
All that just from hands and mouths, mouths and hands.
With his free hand Daemon smacks Rhaenyra’s flank in a way that makes her clench around him on a shout and says, “On your hands and knees.”
Alicent makes a strangled noise as Rhaenyra rapidly complies, turning over and presenting herself like a bitch in heat.
“It’ll be easier for her to take me this way than if she was on her back,” Daemon confides in Alicent. Is that true? It looks whorish, and Rhaenyra is a virgin bride. Technically.
But she ceases paying attention to Daemon when Rhaenyra grabs at her and whines, “Alicent, please,” and so she doesn’t get to watch him press his cock into her. In that moment she is kneeling before Rhaenyra, who clings to her by the shoulders, hands slipping down until she digs her nails into her upper arms hard enough to sting. She is gazing into Rhaenyra’s eyes as they fly open in shock, as a wounded moan falls from her lips.
“Rhaenyra,” she whispers, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You’re doing so well.”
He’s going to make you feel so good now, you just have to let it—
Her heart beats hard. Rhaenyra’s eyes are wet and wondering. “Uncle,” she cries. “Daemon, oh, Alicent—”
“That’s it, sweetling,” he says, and Alicent looks up at him. He is circling his hips very slowly, working himself into her a little at a time. The breadth of him seems huge behind her but he is moving so carefully. He runs a gentling hand down her spine and says breathlessly, “That’s it. Good girl. Lady Hightower, I’ve made a great sacrifice here for my wife’s comfort. I don’t get to see the look on her pretty face as she takes her first cock. What’s it like?”
Alicent’s own voice sounds thin and reedy as she says stupidly, “Very—very red, my prince,” and cups Rhaenyra’s burning cheek, her thumb wiping at a tear that slips from the corner of her eye. Rhaenyra turns her head desperately to kiss the salty pad and then she sucks it into her mouth.
“In pain?”
He can’t ask Rhaenyra; Rhaenyra is not capable of speech. It’s too much.
“A little. But she—she wants it more. She wants it more than it hurts.” Alicent’s own eyes sting.
“Here, let’s do this.” Daemon rests back on his heels so he’s kneeling. With his hands on Rhaenyra’s hips he directs her so she hovers over him with her legs hooked over his. Alicent can see his cock just breaching her and although Rhaenyra lets Alicent’s thumb fall out of her hot, pink mouth—Alicent shudders as the damp digit throbs, abandoned—she shuffles forward with her. “Fuck yourself back onto me.”
Rhaenyra rests her forehead against Alicent’s shoulder. She is taking great, inelegant, undignified huffs of air as she works herself down another inch, and another. Alicent’s hand cups her skull. It reminds her of one time when Queen Aemma was in the childbed and Rhaenyra had insisted on sneaking in, tugging Alicent along. Aemma had been positioned just like this, leaning on one of her ladies for support with a midwife where Daemon was peering between her thighs. Then they had been chased from the room. Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra when her own time comes, the result of this night or one of the countless ones to follow.
She shifts back so her hands are on Alicent’s shoulders again for balance as she lowers herself down onto Daemon’s cock. Her face is gilded with sweat like her mother’s in her labors, but a satisfied smile plays over her lips as she finally, finally takes him all the way into her.
“How does it feel?” Alicent finds herself asking, thumb pushing against the swell of Rhaenyra’s lower lip.
“Whole,” Rhaenyra says rapturously, her face ecstatic, the smile that twitches to life against her hand searing in its brilliance. “Like I was s-so empty, and I didn't even know it, oh gods—”
Daemon’s lips accidentally meet the back of Alicent’s hand as he showers adoring kisses on Rhaenyra’s head. “That's it, that's right, made for me, I told you I'd fit—”
How does it feel? She doesn't ask Daemon this as her thumb slips past Rhaenyra’s teeth to stroke her tongue, lips tightening around it with an overwhelmed moan, her cheeks wet and rippling around it.
With Alicent to steady her Rhaenyra raises herself up, brow knotting as she empties herself, smoothing out at the relief of filling herself up with him.
Alicent looks down. Rhaenyra tilts her head back to rest her head against Daemon’s shoulder, so he can bite at her ear and suck hungrily at her neck. One of Rhaenyra’s small breasts is swallowed by Daemon’s massaging palm, and when Alicent’s eyes reach her abdomen she pushes her forefinger into that greedy mouth along with her thumb, stretching it wide.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh gods.”
She can see it: the raised impression of Daemon’s cock stretching the skin of Rhaenyra’s tight stomach. Like she might have been right, like he really might break her. Alicent yanks her fingers from Rhaenyra’s mouth and as if compelled by some outside force presses her palm down against the bulge, touching Daemon Targaryen’s cock through the barrier of Rhaenyra’s flesh. He grunts in response. Rhaenyra howls, thrashing in his arms. She caresses it, apologizing, soothing, this tiny belly taking so much…
Rhaenyra is squirming in his lap as Daemon brings his hand down to grip her hip and hold her in place. His eyes glint wickedly as they meets hers. “Patience, niece. Your sweet little friend is going to help us, hm?”
Alicent takes her hand back and starts to shake her head before he even finishes. “No, I—”
“She needs to come. She’s hurting—just look at her.” Daemon’s other hand has both her hands pinned over where he strains at her and Alicent knows—can feel it in her own belly, in her—in her cunt, what she wants, what he’s preventing her from doing, exactly where it aches.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra sobs. “Alicent—”
“I’m sure Lady Hightower has heard the wise advice of our maesters—we’d never have cause to doubt the sages of Oldtown and their immense knowledge of the female animal—that for a woman to conceive she must reach her completion. Yes?”
He seems to genuinely wait for her answer. “Yes,” she admits in a very small voice.
“So to make this good in the sight of the gods—what is it the Septons say? I forget.”
Through gritted teeth: “The purpose of the marriage bed is the begetting of offspring.”
“Ah. Right. We wouldn’t want all this pleasure to go to waste, would we? How sinful.”
He kisses Rhaenyra’s shoulder and murmurs, “Just another moment, sweet girl,” never breaking Alicent’s gaze. To her he says, “You know what to do. I showed you.”
Tears slip down Rhaenyra’s face. Alicent puts her hand to that place that yearns for it. She begins to rub at that engorged nub and it doesn’t take long at all. At the first touch of her hand she can feel it, Rhaenyra’s cunt contracting, pulsing as her orgasm begins. She doesn’t know where she wants to look more: at Rhaenyra’s beautiful face as she falls apart—“that’s right, coming on my cock”—or Daemon’s, raw, flayed open with an awe Alicent wouldn't have believed possible, a thing that she is witness to, and—something else, because when he opens his eyes to slits to see her staring he smiles at her and says, just before he buries his head in his wife's hair as he comes—“yes, with Alicent being so nice to your clit, maybe you're right, maybe we’ll keep her, good girl, just keep at her, work her through it, let’s put a baby in her”—it’s like a reflection, like she is the one being witnessed.