Sit Still Look Pretty / Tywin Lannister (2.5)

19. Need

"Are you jealous?" Tywin huffed out a breath making Rieka laugh. "You are."

"You are my wife." Tywin countered. "What is there to be jealous of?"

"Exactly." Rieka agreed, ever so innocently.

"Come on." Tywin insisted.

"I have plans with oberyn. Sorry-"

"Rieka." Tywin moaned out her name in complete and total agony.

"Kidding."  She assured unable to hide her smile.

"I need you Rieka." Cersei interrupted heels clicking to a hault before them.

"I have needs to." Tywin corrected.

"Gross," cersei countered. 

"Yeah the Greyjoy fuckers took it," Rieka tensed at Theons name sake. "Now we are hosting them Starks, calling them lady instead of prisoners." Rieka couldnt breathe. Cersei took notice. 

"Both of you hold your tongue." Cersei sneered and the guards spun around no realizing they were not alone. 

"Sorry, your grace." 

"Leave us." Cersei remarked waving a hand at her guards. "Rieka."

"I'm fine." Rieka assured marching off.

"Clearly." Cersei countered.

"Just the very mention of Theons name and it brought me back to when I first found out and..."

"What he did was awful. He knew your brothers and you since he was a child. He was your family..." Cersei agreed.

"He's not family anymore, he is nothing. He is a dead man if I ever see him again." Rieka corrected.

"Good, hold that anger." Cersei agreed. "Let it fuel you. Keep you alive. Turn you into a survivor."

"When do you know when its time to stop fighting?" Rieka rasped. Cersei pondered that.

"When you run out of things to fight for." Cersei answered.

"What do you fight for?" Rieka questioned curiously.

"My brother. My children. Myself." Cersei answered. "What are you fighting for Rieka?"

"Right now... My sister. I can't give up because then she is alone with Joffrey." Rieka remarked. "She will be his punching bag and I can handle it but she can't."

"What do you think about..." Cersei leaned on the balcony with a heavy sigh. "Targaryen incest?"

"Love is love and all that." Rieka mused.

"Honestly." Cersei demanded.

"Honestly," Rieka whispered. "Your brothers are hot, I get it." Rieka assured and Cersei chuckled.

"You and your twin... ever-"

"No." Rieka corrected quickly. "I kissed Jon once when we were little, but it was a dare, if that counts."

"You ever lay with a man? Before my father that is?" Cersei questioned.

"No." Rieka admitted.

"I was young when I first started... exploring." Cersei remarked. "We are complicated creatures to please." 

"Trust me your father knows how to please me." Rieka countered. 

"Gross."

"You asked."

"I changed my mind." 

"Speaking of twins," Rieka countered. "HOw is Jaime doing? He said you were being moody and distant with him since he got back."

"He called me moody?" Cersei countered. 

"I read between the lines."  Rieka countered. "I should get back to your father, he is needy and constantly worried about Oberyn seducing me." 

"Then let him worry a little bit longer," Cersei suggested. 

"Where have you been!" Tywin demanded. "You have been gone for hours!" 

"I was with Cersei, I told you that." Rieka countered. 

"And I said I needed you."

"You have me, dont waste a moment." Rieka suggested when Avalon barked out from the fire place. Rieka chuckled glancing to her pup. "I think Avalon needs me more." Rieka decided but Tywin pulled her into him, not taking no for an answer this time. 

His mouth crashed down to hers, and he surrendered to the combustible cocktail of frustration, lust, drowning them both. She moaned into his mouth, opening fully beneath him and inviting him to plunder her sweet depths. But this wasn't a surrender. It was challenge for control, and the last threads tying him to where he was began to unravel.

When her legs circled his waist and locked him into place. Nothing else mattered. Leaning into her, he moved his hands across her black dress to grasp her hips and pull her even closer, eliciting a soft mewl of pleasure. Abandoning her mouth, his lips traced across her arched neck, licking his way down her throbbing pulse until he stopped at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

Drunk on the taste of her skin, he paused to inhale the rich, sensual scent of her perfume as her pulse fluttered against her throat. He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her dress, raising the soft material until he had to relinquish the taste of her creamy skin so he could pull her strip her down.

With the tip of his finger, he traced down across her collarbone and over the upper swells of her breasts, a wave of goose bumps following in his finger's wake. When his finger disappeared into the deep valley of her cleavage she closed her eyes and dropped her head back, her hair cascading down to the polished wood writing desk. It had been so long since he'd seen her like this—warm, inviting, devastating in her willingness to go after what she wanted wholeheartedly.