Cersei twines her fingers in Ned’s thick dark hair and arches her back- Robert behind her, broad and muscled and warm, a wall holding her in place. A large hand curls over her hip; it must be Robert’s, for both of Ned’s are here in her hair, stroking as gently as if she were a fragile baby kitten and not a fierce lion queen. The thought rankles her a little, and she pulls him in for a kiss, sharp teeth nibbling at his lower lip until he releases a low, throaty moan.
Obviously, this is all a dream. She’d had plenty to drink at the wedding feast- not nearly as much as Robert, but certainly enough to prompt a hazy fugue state between sleep and waking. Odd, that I’m imagining Ned Stark here instead of Jaime...but she shakes her head free of that and focuses on Ned’s mouth, the brush of his beard over her cheeks, the solidness of his chest against hers
( ... )
He smells of leather and pine.
Cersei twines her fingers in Ned’s thick dark hair and arches her back- Robert behind her, broad and muscled and warm, a wall holding her in place. A large hand curls over her hip; it must be Robert’s, for both of Ned’s are here in her hair, stroking as gently as if she were a fragile baby kitten and not a fierce lion queen. The thought rankles her a little, and she pulls him in for a kiss, sharp teeth nibbling at his lower lip until he releases a low, throaty moan.
Obviously, this is all a dream. She’d had plenty to drink at the wedding feast- not nearly as much as Robert, but certainly enough to prompt a hazy fugue state between sleep and waking. Odd, that I’m imagining Ned Stark here instead of Jaime...but she shakes her head free of that and focuses on Ned’s mouth, the brush of his beard over her cheeks, the solidness of his chest against hers ( ... )
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