[ The fact that Daemon had been willing to submit himself into her hands, to give over control of this coupling to her, only arouses Rhaenyra further, but there is something about the idea of using him as her throne in the most illicit, depraved sense that makes her unmistakably wet, all but dripping as she finally settles herself over his face and he lifts his chin to meet her with the initial slide of his tongue over her cunt.
She's sensitive, already, from riding him, but in a way that renders every further lick and stroke that much more enjoyable. Still, something's missing even in this, and Rhaenyra quickly realizes what it is; Daemon's wrists are still tied to the headboard, when she wants his hands on her waist, her hips, her thighs, steadying her, creating one more point of direct contact between them.
She reaches up with a sudden franticness, digging her fingernails into the admittedly loose knot she'd created so she can tug the belt loose, away from his skin with an audible whisper of the leather, punctuated by the thud of the buckle when it slips from her grasp over the edge of the mattress to hit the floor. ]
Daemon. [ She needs him, desperately, fingers of one hand sliding through his hair, cradling the back of his head — tender as a mother's embrace, but with the urgency of a lover. When she rounds her hips down over his mouth again, it's more gently than when she'd sheathed his cock in her heat, since she isn't aiming to smother him, but she's still more heedless in how she seeks out his tongue, her other hand curving over the top of the headboard for further purchase. ]
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She's sensitive, already, from riding him, but in a way that renders every further lick and stroke that much more enjoyable. Still, something's missing even in this, and Rhaenyra quickly realizes what it is; Daemon's wrists are still tied to the headboard, when she wants his hands on her waist, her hips, her thighs, steadying her, creating one more point of direct contact between them.
She reaches up with a sudden franticness, digging her fingernails into the admittedly loose knot she'd created so she can tug the belt loose, away from his skin with an audible whisper of the leather, punctuated by the thud of the buckle when it slips from her grasp over the edge of the mattress to hit the floor. ]
Daemon. [ She needs him, desperately, fingers of one hand sliding through his hair, cradling the back of his head — tender as a mother's embrace, but with the urgency of a lover. When she rounds her hips down over his mouth again, it's more gently than when she'd sheathed his cock in her heat, since she isn't aiming to smother him, but she's still more heedless in how she seeks out his tongue, her other hand curving over the top of the headboard for further purchase. ]