Freed from the tight confinement, his heavy length sprang forward instantly. It snapped out, the blunt, heated tip lightly slapping right against the bridge of Roslin's nose.
Roslin let out a tiny, startled squeak. She froze, her eyes crossing slightly as she stared at the sheer, intimidating size of him completely uncovered right in front of her face.
She let out a heavy, audible gulp, her breath hitching in her throat as she leaned her head forward to follow Margaery's instructions.
Roslin leaned forward, her breath hitching as she tentatively swiped her tongue along the length of him. She followed Margaery's guidance, using her tongue with a surprising, deliberate focus that made Alaric's breath hitch.
Slowly, she took him into her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as she moved with a rhythmic, professional care that belied her usual shyness.
Alaric let out a low, guttural groan. The sudden, wet heat from below was overwhelming, breaking his focus on Sansa and Margaery. He let go of Sansa's breast and pulled his hand away from Margaery's waist, his body reacting instinctively to the sensation Roslin was providing.
His large hands reached down, his fingers tangling firmly into Roslin's brown hair to steady her. As she tried to take him deeper, Alaric's hips buckled forward, his hands guiding her head down with every heavy, demanding thrust.
Roslin let out muffled, involuntary sounds of choking and gulping as she took the full brunt of his size, but she didn't pull away. She remained entirely dedicated to the task, ensuring not a single tooth grazed him as she surrendered to his pace.
The tension in the room coiled tight until Alaric finally hit the breaking point. He let out a rough, vibrating roar of satisfaction, his hands tightening in Roslin's hair as he came deep into her throat.
Roslin's eyes widened, her hands gripping his thick thighs for support as she swallowed heavily, taking every drop and refusing to let a single bead of moisture go to waste.
Roslin slowly pulled back, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She rested her hands lightly on his thick thighs and looked up at him through her lashes. Her brown eyes were wide and shining with an innocent, hopeful anticipation, silently seeking a reward for her utter submission.
Alaric let out a low, deeply satisfied rumble. He reached down, his hand resting heavily on top of her head. He stroked her soft brown hair with a firm, possessive affection.
"Good girl," Alaric murmured, his voice a rough, commanding purr. "Rest for a moment. Your turn is later."
Margaery smoothly slipped off the edge of the mattress, her bare knees sinking into the crushed petals right beside Roslin. Never one to miss an opportunity to show her devotion, Margaery leaned in close.
She used her own practiced, wicked grace to seamlessly take over the task, running her tongue over him to ensure he was entirely clean and attended to before she finally pulled away.
With a highly satisfied hum, Margaery stood up. The sheer, translucent silk of her gown clung to her flushed, heated skin as she climbed gracefully back onto the center of the massive, fur-covered bed. She shifted her weight, looking over her shoulder at Sansa.
"And what should I do, Sister?" Margaery whispered, her velvet voice heavy with anticipation.
Sansa didn't hesitate. Her own restraint had completely unraveled from watching them, her blue eyes dark and heavy with unapologetic heat. She crawled forward over the furs and leaned in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly to the sensitive curve of Margaery's neck.
Sansa's hands reached out, gripping the delicate white silk of Margaery's ruined gown.
"Throw this dress away," Sansa commanded softly against Margaery's skin, her breath ghosting over the Tyrell Queen's collarbone. "Lie down on the bed. Let him do exactly what he wants to you."
Sansa pulled back just enough to look Margaery in the eyes, a fierce, distinctly Northern smirk touching her lips. "But remember... my number is right after yours."
Sansa reached down, her pale hand wrapping gently around Roslin's trembling fingers. "Come on up," Sansa murmured softly, pulling the younger girl off the heated marble and onto the thick, fur-covered mattress. "Let's help her."
Together, Sansa and Roslin made quick work of Margaery's ruined white silk.
With a few smooth pulls, the delicate fabric was cast completely aside, leaving the Tyrell Queen bare against the dark furs and crushed rose petals.
Margaery didn't hesitate. She shifted her weight on the mattress, leaning in and pulling him into a deep, consuming kiss that reflected her absolute ambition.
While Margaery kept his attention completely occupied, Sansa and Roslin went to work on his remaining clothes. Sansa's hands were practical and entirely efficient, shedding her usual heavy Northern propriety as she unbuckled his gear. Roslin, though her cheeks were still burning a bright crimson, followed the older girl's lead to help strip him completely bare.
Alaric broke the kiss, a low, rough rumble vibrating in his chest as he looked down at the three of them. "You three are entirely too coordinated."
"We have a city to run while you are gone," Sansa replied without missing a beat, her fierce, competitive edge shining through.
Margaery let out a warm, melodic laugh. She leaned back against the dark furs, her clever brown eyes gleaming with wicked anticipation as she pulled him down with her. "Less talking, Alaric. You are leaving us soon, and we promised to give our King a proper send-off."
Alaric let a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face. Thanks to the Vital Supremacy of the Greenhand passive he shared with Margaery, he possessed absolute physical regeneration and limitless stamina. He didn't need to hold back.
Alaric didn't waste any more time with words. shifting his weight until he was positioned directly over Margaery. Her legs fell open naturally, her pale thighs framing his dark, muscular frame against the black furs. He rested his hands on the mattress on either side of her head, his eyes locking onto hers with a demanding intensity.
He surged forward in one smooth, relentless motion.
"Huuuummm... aahhhnn!" Margaery's breath hitched into a sharp, vibrating moan that echoed off the high marble ceiling. Her back arched off the furs, her fingers digging deep into his shoulders as she took the full brunt of him.