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It’s entirely possible that he’s catching on to you. But that might be giving Dunk too much credit.
It doesn’t matter how many times you remind him you’re bastard born. You're not a proper lady. You’re not some virtuous maid.
He still treats you as such.
You suppose it’s sweet. A gentlemanly behavior you’re nought like to get from any other knight you might travel with. But it is driving you wild.
Dunk is a big man, large and thick with muscles you want to sink your teeth into. But he’ll only kiss you, tug your hair a bit and then be on his way. He doesn’t push you against a tree, ruck up your skirts and take you right there. He never accepts your invitations to bed you at the inns you stay at.
He’s just good.
Too good.
You’re a well-traveled woman. You’ve grown to have hungry tastes. And maybe you’re spoiled, but you’re used to having that hunger sated when you want.
Dunk isn’t like to simply hand you what you want. No, this torture of his is slow and tiring. You’ve never begged a man for anything. But you’re this close to mounting his thigh and pleading he just allow you one night with him.
Gods, perhaps your father's perversions do run in your veins.
“Gods above, I can no longer handle the stench of us,” you bemoan. You bring your horse up beside Dunk’s. “Ser, you must find me a stream. Something to clean myself in.”
Dunk purses his lips. He ought to say no. It’d be better to travel another day before stopping for something so frivolous. But then you’re tugging at the collar of your dress, letting out a groan of discomfort as your breasts become dangerously more exposed.
He clears his throat, ripping his eyes away, missing the disappointed scowl you wear. “Alright,” he croaks, not at all because he knows you’ll ask him to guard you while you bathe. And not at all because he knows there’ll be a split second where he might actually be able to see something.
Because he is a knight. A hedge knight, but an honorable one nonetheless. And an honorable man does not sneak glances at women he’s sworn to protect while they’re vulnerable.
And naked.
And dripping-
No.
It’s not too much time later that you all come upon a stream deep within the woods. Egg runs off first, off to hunt something for dinner. He knows to avoid the water until you’ve finished, but Dunk doesn’t have much of a choice.
Because of course, you need your big, strong knight to aid you. Nevermind the fact that your father had you trained by a Braavosi Water Dancer. You need Dunk.
For reasons.
“Come along,” you call and Dunk clears his throat, tugging on his pants as he follows. He feels no better than a hound, trained to salivate at the sound of rushing water.
You cast a look over your shoulder, spinning your finger and he nods, turning away. But he misses how you watch him, slipping off your dress and hoping to catch him steal a look.
When he doesn’t, you try not to let your disappointment show, reaching down to tug your dress off the rest of the way. Dunk glances over his shoulder, nearly choking as his eyes drag along the curve of your skin, the slight arch in your lower back as you walk into the stream.
He shakes his head, forcing himself to turn away, hand on the hilt of his sword. He's a horrible man. All he can think of is how he wished you had turned around.
“Here, m’lady,” he takes your hand and helps you onto your horse. One large palm cups the curve of your rear as you swing your leg over the saddle. You’ve learned to ignore that touch as nothing more than a helping hand. Dunk has no such luck, the feel of you burned into his skin.
He gets up behind you. Your own horse had to be sold to afford some more rations for the road. Until you can scrounge enough coppers, you’re stuck with Dunk.
Honestly, he probably should have let you ride with Egg. He’s already big enough for his own mount; Thunder don’t need another weight to carry. But, selfishly, he enjoys the feel of you pressed up against his chest, your soft curves rubbing against his arms as he holds the reins.
And you, you certainly wouldn’t complain at whatever rare form of contact he’ll allow you. Especially not when he bucks his hips, urging Thunder on. But you know you’ve reached a fresh hell in your life when he whispers praise to the creature and you’re jealous of the damnable thing.
The group of you stops off at a local village market. The place seems familiar to you, somehow, but you can’t place it. Dunk goes off to ask after some work around the area, to see if he can make some spare change.
Egg doesn’t wish to join him and listen to the boring pleasantries. Dunk permits his leave only if he swears that he won’t leave your side. Egg promises, of course, none of you realize that Dunk’s just damned you all.
You probably would have been able to get out of this if it weren’t for Egg’s big mouth.
You stand before a fruit vendor, eyeing the apples and checking for any wormholes. The man behind the stall is casting you an odd look that is beginning to make your skin crawl.
“I know you?” He suddenly snaps and you jump at the volume of his voice.
“Er, no, I don’t think you do.” You cast him a wary glare as you debate abandoning your search for a half-decent taste besides salt beef.
Before you can leave, his hand snaps out, clammy hold wrenching up your wrist. “Sir!”
“I do know you. You stole my favorite mount!”
Your eyes widen as you suddenly realize who this man is. A year past, when you first began traveling with Egg. You’d passed through this village on the way from Storm’s End. Daeron, drunk and testing the true boldness of a Baratheon bastard, had promised one hundred gold stags if you stole this man’s horse.
There was nothing against this man in particular. But it was quite possibly one of the most gorgeous mounts you’d ever seen. A Dornish steed, you were sure, with a coat like fire and sand. Of course, you’d done it. You just hadn’t thought that anyone had seen you.
“I’m afraid you’re confused-“
A shocked gasp cuts you off. “It’s him!”
You whip around and see Egg staring up at the man. You rip your wrist from the vendor’s hold and slap your hand around Egg’s mouth.
“What was that, boy?” He barks out, leaning over the table.
“Nothing, sir, please. My boy- he was knocked in the head by a mule, that's why he’s bald as he is, truly.” Egg rips from your hold and stomps down on your foot.
You jump back with a gasp, hands swiping out at him. “Unhand me,” he snaps. “I was not kicked in the head!”
Your eyes clench shut as the vendor growls,” Guards!” He shouts. “Guards!”
“Oh,” Egg’s face drops as he realizes his blunder. You let out a groan and snatch up his wrist, racing through the stalls. The fruit merchant calls after you but you keep going, ignoring the clash of armor as the guards follow close behind.
“Next time I silence you, stay quiet.” You growl down at Egg. He’s too busy looking over his shoulder to nod. Eyes wide with panic as he follows alongside you.
Through some blessed mercy, you manage to find Dunk. You grab his arm, turning him away from the barkeep he’d been speaking to. “Oi,” he trails off as he takes in your face. “What’d ya do?”
“Problem,” you pant out. A loud shout catches your attention and you all turn to see the guards just behind you. “Big problem!”
You’re cut off by your own yelp as Dunk squats down. He presses his shoulder to your stomach, lifting you as easy as he would a sack of potatoes. You let out a little squeal as he straightens, hauling Egg up in his other arm.
Your hands scramble for grip along his back as he hightails out of the market. You can’t believe his stamina as he runs with you all.
It’s actually all you can think about now. Wondering how this translates to other aspects of his life as he gets back to the horses.
He sets you down with a huff and eases Egg onto his horse before returning to you. You don’t get to enjoy the feel of his hand around you for long before the guards catch up.
“Hiyah,” his hips buck against yours and you let out a low, frustrated groan as he urges the horses on.
Dunk lays a heavy hand around your waist as he helps you down from your horse. You rest your weight against him, pretending not to notice how he stares down your dress as you push your chest up.
“Are you coming?” Egg shouts and then Dunk’s releasing you. Your fists clench at your sides as you let out a belligerent curse. You love the prince, but you’ll have to find a way to get rid of the boy for a night.
With a low grumble, you follow behind the pair, plotting to yourself all the while. You’re fine enough admitting that you’re perverted as you watch Dunk’s nicely shaped rear as he walks. But you wish you could say the same about him.
You’ve seen glimpses of his true hunger. Moments where he’s shoved a knee between your legs and hauled you up his body. Or squeezed a little harshly at your backside while his tongue explored your mouth.
But he always drifts away just before you really get to taste it. There must be a way to tempt a virtuous man. You’ve broken monks before, Gods above. A simple hedge knight should not be proving such a challenge.
“Are you gonna be alright here?” Dunk asks you, standing amid a camp of other traveling knights. You’re somewhere in the Reach, growing ever closer to Egg’s destination of the Red Lake.
It’s happenstance that you found yourself in the company of so many rugged men just as your patience snapped. Not to say you would lie with any of them. No, your lusts are solely for the knight beside you. But they could prove incredibly helpful to your plan.
“I have you, don’t I?” You ask, glancing up at Dunk with wide eyes and a coy smile. He flushes slightly before backing off with a stiff nod.
“Of course, m’lady.”
“I’m not a lady, Dunk,” you remind him. “Far from it,” you mutter, dragging your hand along his waist as you pass by. Dunk jolts under your touch, posture going stiff straight. It’s almost laughable if you weren’t so frustrated.
You wander off to help Egg set up the tents and smile when you see him chatting eagerly with the other squires. You don’t feel the stare burning into your back. Or catch how Dunk’s head tilts, catching the curve of your hips as you walk.
He shakes his head, cursing himself, and wanders off toward the other knights. He’s damned straight to the hells, he’s sure of it. Being tempted by a kind woman such as yourself. You cannot help that you’re beautiful. It ain’t your fault he’s so easily tempted by you.
Except it is.
Later, sitting around the fire, you realize the knights really don’t have any proper accommodations for a lady. No seat to rest on, only the hard earth or flaking logs. Well, that simply won’t do.
You trail your hand across Dunk’s shoulders, grinning at the way he shudders. You come to a stop by his side and he glances up at you with eager-to-please eyes. “Do you mind, Ser?” You whisper.
He frowns but then you’re uncrossing his arms and making room for yourself as you drop on his lap. Dunk immediately goes stiff, mind racing as his hands hover at your sides.
You simply hum, taking his hands in yours and wrapping them around your waist. Warmth emanates from you, the soft curve of your breasts rests atop his arm and it’s the only thing he can feel.
He knows he’d been speaking to another knight before this. Gods only know what he’d been saying. You laugh as you continue the conversation for him, conversing as if your mind isn’t as disturbed as his. Must not be.
Dunk lets out a low grunt, shifting his thighs so you can’t feel the steadily growing bulge in his pants. Your nails dig into his thighs as he readjusts, shooting him an odd look. Dunk can only offer a tense smile, trying to tilt his hips so you don’t brush against him.
He lets his hand rest along your thigh, thumb moving restlessly against you. You shift at that, thighs clenching as you push back against him. His breath hitches as you finally catch what he’s been trying to hide. He waits for you to storm off, to curse him for being so perverted. But you don’t, if anything, you seem to move closer, a low sigh slipping from your lips as you shift further against him.
All Dunk can think about is lifting your skirts and taking you there. Pushing you into the grass and leaves and mounting you like an animal.
You let out a sharp gasp, and he glances down, having pushed you from his lap without realizing it. “Oh, m’lady,” he reaches for you but you slap his hands away. “‘M sorry.”
“Enough,” you shake your head and let out a tired sigh. “Enough,” you mutter, stepping away from the fire. Dunk watches you go, something tight twisting his chest.
“Oi,” one of the knights slaps him. “How much does she cost?”
Dunk’s brow furrows and he shakes his head. “My lady isn’t a whore.”
The man backs off with his hands raised. “Sorry, lad, didn’t realize she was your woman.”
“No,” Dunk shakes his head, ready to correct the other man. But he doesn’t want any of them thinking that you’re up for grabs. That any part of you might be open to them. It’s not his place to make that decision. And he’s sure he’s doing you a disservice, but Dunk can’t care about that right now.
He gets to his feet, checks that Egg is still with the other squires, and goes traipsing after you. He follows your trail all the way to a stream. You’re kneeling by it, hand lazily dipping through the water.
His boot snaps against a branch and you leap to your feet. “It’s just me,” he assuages. You turn with a small smile. “I’m sorry-“
“No,” you cut him off and he huffs. “I’m sorry, Ser. I’m afraid I’ve been unfair.”
“Unfair?”
“I am not a lady, Dunk. I have needs. Needs as bad as any man. But I’m afraid I’ve been blinded by lust. Forcing my affections on you when you haven’t wanted them. I’ve shamed myself, I’m sorry.”
Dunk’s jaw drops as he stares at you. “Affections- Needs?” He rakes a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “You haven’t forced anything, woman, what the hell are you talking about?”
You’re frowning now. “By the fire when you… well you were-“
“Hard,” Dunk finishes and your eyes blow wide.
“Gods, I hadn’t thought you capable of such crass language.”
“I’m a knight, not a lady,” he chides you and that drags a laugh from you. “Are you saying, all this time, you’ve known what you’re doing?” Dunk stalks closer and he catches a gleam in your eye that he can’t believe he hadn’t noticed before.
“Well,” you take a step closer to him. “Yes,” you laugh under your breath. It cuts off as he reaches out, snagging your waist in his hands and pulling you closer.
“All this-“
“Enough talking,” you groan, pushing onto your toes and grabbing his cheeks. You pull him down, lips crashing against his as you back him up. He lets out a low groan as his back hits a tree, hands roaming greedily along your body.
You can’t believe how stupid you’ve both been. Well, you can believe him. But Gods, how blinded by lust have you been that you haven’t seen such obvious signs from him?
Perhaps he’s far more discreet than you’d given him credit for. Or, you’re losing your touch.
Dunk’s hand cups your jaw, finger squeezing lightly at your cheeks as your lips part. His tongue wastes no time, dipping between your parted lips as you let out a low moan. He flips you both around, pushing you up against the tree as he lowers himself.
You catch your breath as he breaks away from you. Hands greedy as they sweep along the hem of your dress, hiking it up above your hips. You almost question him, but the sight of his broad shoulders parting your thighs shuts you up.
“May I?” He asks, fingers coasting the edge of your undergarments. Your hand smooths along his cheek, up to his hair as you nod. He wastes little time in ripping the flimsy fabric apart, nose dipping low and brushing against you.
“Oh,” you let out a shaky moan, head falling back against the rough bark as his tongue darts out, a tentative taste of you. It’s alarming how quick he is to flatten his tongue and drag it along the length of you. How quick he is to grow greedy. Large hands pinching at your thighs as he hikes one over his shoulder, practically drowning in you as he buries his face deep.
“Gods above,” you hiss, biting down on your palm so you don’t alert the entire forest to your perversions. You feel Dunk’s smug smirk as he lifts you, tilting his head to allow his tongue a deeper angle inside you.
You’ve lain with plenty of men before. But you don’t think you’ve ever met one so eager, so hungry for your release on his tongue. A sharp cry leaves you as your hands tighten in his hair, hips bucking against his large nose as he sucks on your small bundle of nerves.
“Dunk,” you gasp out, core pulsing near painfully as your pleasure mounts. He doesn’t stop, if anything you seem to be encouraging him. Rapid, bucking hips grow desperate as you chase your release.
“Come on,” he urges, eyes eager as he spares you a brief glance. That look in his eyes seems to be enough as you cry out his name, chasing your release. He reaches up, large hand smothering the bottom half of your face as your pleasure crashes over you. Your moans go muffled against his palm, eyes burning with unshed tears as he slowly lifts himself.
He waits for you to calm down, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he presses soft kisses along the curve of your neck.
When you finally catch your breath, you only have one question. “Where the bloody hell did a hedge knight learn that?”
Dunk snorts and leans back. “I’m not a blushing maid,” he admonishes.
“Could’ve fooled me,” you tease.
Dunk shakes his head, dipping down for another hungry kiss. You can taste your release on his tongue and it only stokes the fires of your lust. “Please,” you beg, reaching for his breeches.
His hand stills yours and he leans back, looking shamefully at the ground. “I’m quite… big,” he warns you.
You pull back with a huff. “You say that like it’s a problem. Not a maiden, need I remind you?” You scold him.
“Yes, well-“
“Dunk, do you wish to lay with me?”
His eyes go wide as he nods eagerly. “Then relax, love.” It doesn’t seem to sate him much, but it’s enough for you. You work on the laces of his breeches while his own hand clumsily undoes the ties of your dress.
He pulls it down just enough for your breasts to spill out, palms greedily cupping them as he dips his head to kiss you once more. You don’t get a chance to see what’s between his legs. But you feel the weight of it in your palm. The length, the girth.
Lords above, he might be right.
But you’re a Stormborn. You don’t back away from danger. You run to it. Or, in this case, allow it to split you in two.
“Are you sure?”
“Please, Dunk,” you encourage, wrapping one leg around his hip while he pushes your skirts back up. He spares you one last look before nodding. His hands cup your thighs and you let out a small moan as he lifts you easily, pressing you higher against the tree.
It’s been a while since you’ve lain with a man. But not so long that it feels like losing your maidenhead again. Dunk’s slow as he guides himself inside you, and you’ve been wanting him so long, you hardly feel the sting of his size.
The only thing your lustful body can think of is how deeply you want him to bury himself. Your nails drag through his hair, scratching at his scalp as you press hungry kisses along his jaw, his neck, before sinking your teeth into his shoulder.
He lets out a low hiss, grip turning bruising around your legs as he buries himself completely. The moan you let out is sinful, the pressure inside you feels close to exploding as he rests there for a moment.
“Gods,” he lets out a low noise that has pleasurable shivers running up your spine.
You pull back from him, tilting his chin down. “Please, move.” He gives you a shaky nod, one arm bracing against the tree as he uses the other to adjust you. Even that small movement is enough to have you keening.
The first roll of his hips is slow, tentative. Like he still worries he might hurt you. But then, you’re tugging in his hair, begging for more, and he’s snapping his hips against yours eagerly. Each movement jolts you further up the tree, the bark snagging at the lace off your dress.
You hardly care, legs clenching around him as you bite your tongue. Each thrust knocks the breath from you, feels so good it hurts as you try not to make a noise.
Dunk hardly even needs the tree; he’s so tall, so strong, he keeps you upright all on his own. That only serves to further your desire, your nails dragging along his back as he nearly kisses your cervix.
His thrusts begin to fasten as you clench around him. Your pleasure begins mounting once more. Either from your previous release or simply having what you’ve coveted for so long. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t take much more for you to be squeezing tight around him while his warmth spills in you.
“Gods,” you mutter, arms limp along his shoulders as he shifts to hold all of your weight. You’re not eager for him to set you down. You doubt your legs will be working right now. The tips of your toes still tingled with the numb pleasure of your release.
“Are you alright?” He asks, slowly helping you down. Your legs tremble as you stand straight and you can only nod, tongue too loose to attempt conversation right now.
He pulls up his breeches while you work on fixing the laces of your dress. After a minute, when the fog has begun to clear from your mind, you admire his form. The thick arms that held you so easily, bigger legs that you still had yet to ride. Not to mention what rests between his legs. The gods surely had favorites. And you had to be one of them for them to have sent you such a man.
“Next time you wish to do that, do not hide behind the guise of honor,” you scold him but he can only grin at you. A boyish, incredibly self-satisfied look about him. “You only punish us both.”
Dunk nods, kneeling to pick up his sword. You’re not even sure when he dropped that. “Yes, m’lady.”
You take his chin between your fingers, pinching it and tilting his face toward your own. “I’m no lady.”
“No,” he laughs. “You’re not.” You scoff, reaching to swat at him. But he snatches your hand in his and hauls you easily over his shoulder.
“You brute,” you accuse, grinning at his chuckle. And more than grateful. There was no way in the seven hells you were walking back to camp.
Now, you only had to find a way to excuse those noises the others had heard. Perhaps you could lie, say it’s mating season for elk.
It’s certainly just become mating season for one beast, and you’re currently tossed over his shoulder. The poor thing has no idea what he’s just done.
