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Dunk was not as thick as some people might assume. He knew very well when he was being insulted or when he was being complimented. Most of all when he was being propositioned.
It’s not new to him, fucking. He’s heard enough from both his time at Flea Bottom and his travel with Ser Arlan about what it meant when someone wanted to fuck or be fucked by you. It’s fairly simple to understand, especially why they aren't even being subtle about it; they are mostly small folk who are always open about their opinions. It was rare with high-status lords and ladies, mostly when their reputation is on the line and subtle words are what work for them.
John was not subtle, he was not shy with his words, as Dunk had grown to learn about him. At first he had assumed that the man was simply teasing him, for why else would he imply that—He implied many things that had nearly made Dunk’s face burst into an angry red that had nothing to do with anger.
Dunk was not blind. John was a lithe man, with a comely face that could almost be mistaken for a highborn lady. He was pretty and lustful with his words, and Dunk was only a man.
So when the time arrived that John the Fiddler had come at him again, Dunk had made sure that he’d have said something back in confirmation of interest.
And now here he was, cock-deep in a tight ass that could have been considered a cunt by how wet it was. Dunk groaned, thrusting with vigor while watching how his length was being greedily swallowed by John’s hole.
“Ah, ah, ah! ” John moaned wantonly, sounding very similar to a whore's wail, with his head thrown back in pleasure. His leg was spread wide, milky thighs trembling with the overwhelming feeling of being impaled by a cock nearly the size of his forearm. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please—Ah! ”
Dunk grunted at each thrust, burying his face at the man’s neck and laying soft kisses along the skin and down to his nipples. “I don’t think I can, even if I wanted to.”
“You’re so big,” John cries out, his hole stretched wide and rammed with so much force that he could almost feel him in his mouth. His nails raked across his back until they had surely left marks. “Bigger than any man I’ve ever been with, Ser Dunk.”
“Do not speak of your conquests whilst I fuck you,” Dunk said roughly, biting at the skin around his nipple before sucking the bud.
John released a breathless laugh, which was shortly cut off by another strangled noise. “Are you jealous, sir? ” He said the words between gasps, eyes hooded and nearly rolling at the back of his head when Dunk merely dragged his cock out to his rim before pushing back again, and again, and again with enough force for the headboard to meet the wall with continuous loud thumps.
“No,” Dunk rolled his hips, receiving a loud sob in return when he wrapped his hands around John’s abandoned, leaking cock. “I’m only afraid I won’t be able to soften by the thought of you being open for any man big enough to sate the greed of your cunt. I’ll have to fuck you till sunrise if you continue to fuel the fire in my groin.”
The man beneath him whined, begging incoherently as he began to lose himself further with Dunk’s rough intrusions. The sound of slapping skin, and the squelching between them filled his head with cotton. The room felt colder and warm at the same time. Dunk swallowed, one hand resting over John’s quivering stomach.
Dunk felt him clench around his cock. He cursed, hips stuttering as he felt himself near his peak. He released his hold on Jon’s hard, leaking cock and instead gripped his hips, focusing on fucking him full of his seed until he was bulging.
He would look nice with a stomach like that. Like a pregnant woman who got fucked full of her husband's whelp. Dunk panted, his grip tightening with uncontrolled desire to fill him with his bastards.
John’s lips were plump and shiny from spit, a sinful sight that no man could have ever denied kissing if ever given the opportunity. Dunk had leaned in, sucking his bottom lip in before fucking him with his tongue until the man was gasping for air.
“I won’t be able to hold much longer,” Dunk growled, his thrust growing stronger and faster. “Tell me. Tell me what you want, John, and I shall pump you full of my seed until you are swelling like a sailor's wife.”
“Please, let me cum,” he pleaded loudly, pretty eyes wide and desperate with tears gathering in each corner. “Please, Ser Dunk, please—hah, gods, ah! ”
His back arched like a taut bow, clenching tighter. He reached his peak with a shout that would have no doubt woken anyone close enough. He did not find much worry in the thought of being heard, for John had such a womanly scream that even he had to look down to check if he had accidentally bedded a woman with the tightest cunt he’d ever had the chance of fucking.
John had succumbed, eyes glazed and half-lidded. His smooth chest was covered with his own spent, mixed with sweat that lasciviously rolled down his skin like expensive honey.
Dunk felt intoxicated by the sight alone, his cock twitching and throbbing as he pulled to the tip before plunging as deep as he could in his puckered hole.
John mewled in his sleep, exhaustion and contentment written on his face.
He came with a final groan, thrusting and fucking his cum inside until his cock was covered with his seed and the oil they used earlier. Dunk only pulled out when John started to complain about it being too much. He still got half hard again when he saw his cum slowly seep out of John's gaping cunt, but instead of fucking him again, he used his fingers to push his seed back inside, relishing the softness and heat of his clenching hole.
This will not be the last time, Dunk decided. If only John would let him again, then he would happily come back to this.