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The countertop’s edge dug into her back.
“Lift your leg up - higher, love. There you go.”
Her thighs strain, quivering, as she pulls her leg to her chest. She’s too old for this, she thinks. Alicent couldn’t raise her leg higher if she tried. Not without pulling a muscle.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Viserys tugs at her bathroom robe, “A vision.”
Alicent fights a grimace as he whispers in her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. There was wine on his breath. Her husband only really finds her attractive after a few drinks. If she turned the corner, a glass of Pinot with melting ice chips would be on his nightstand.
Viserys has never been susceptible to drink. A glass of whiskey on occasion, vintage wine with old friends, but never more than that. At least, until recently. Glazed-over eyes, sour breath, and a wandering cock find her in the dark almost every night. Moreso after seeing Daemon flaunt Rhaenyra’s curved belly and their babes during the holidays. Four is more than enough children to bare. Why does Rhaenyra get six?
Alicent doesn’t want any more children if that’s what he’s trying to do. If he’s trying to give himself liquid courage to fuck her full of more disappointing sons and daughters. As if she’s that repulsive to touch without alcohol and a darkened room to muddy the senses.
Her insides shrivel up at the thought.
To be desired is a simple want. Everyone wants to be sought after. To be loved, cherished, and not hear whispers of “Aemma” as he spills inside of her.
“Like a dream.” His hands are rough on her thighs as he rucks up her robe. Her stomach tightens in anticipation. It shouldn’t though. Alicent is familiar with their routine.
Alicent stares forward as he kneels down and begins to kiss the soft flesh of her inner thighs. The marble tiles stare back at her.
Copenhagen granite.
Viserys let her redecorate their bathroom last spring. She spent ages online and in stores finding the perfect tiles, coming home with a dozen samples to find the right one. To see which one felt right.
Between her thighs, her husband noses her folds, lightly nipping at her labia. She feigns a moan.
He kisses and strokes and sucks and licks blindly at her clit. Or around it. Above it. Or much lower than she anticipated.
Alicent stares at the tiles. Her eyes wander back and forth, finally resting on one piece in the upper right. It’s chipped. A small spot is missing.
Great, she’ll need to call the contractor after her shower. Not to mention running by the grocery store. Maybe she should push her hair appointment to tomorrow? No, she’ll just have her roots touched up later than usual.
Viserys pulls his head back. His chin was shiny, not with her desire but his own spit. She was still dry.
“Did you come?”
No. “Yes.”