Alaric didn't stop until he felt the heavy, blunt force of his arrival bottom out.
He pushed all the way in, the sensation of hitting her cervix sending a jolt of raw, electric heat straight to his gut. Margaery's eyes rolled back slightly, her mouth falling open as her entire body shuddered under the sheer weight of his presence.
He pulled back slowly, the friction of her slick, internal heat dragging against him, before he drove forward again with a heavy, rhythmic force. A loud, wet slap of skin hitting skin filled the quiet room.
As he settled into a steady, punishing pace, Alaric's mind couldn't help but make the comparison. Margaery was slick and incredibly welcoming, her body adapting to his size with a practiced, ambitious grace that seemed to hum with the power of their shared passive. Roslin, currently watching with wide, glazed eyes from his side, was undoubtedly the tightest of the three, her body always reacting with a desperate, squeezing pressure that felt like she was trying to pull every bit of him inside. Sansa, resting her head on his other shoulder, possessed a firm, demanding heat that always seemed to push back against him, meeting his strength with her own Northern resilience.
He drove back into Margaery again, another heavy thud echoing in the warm air as he bottomed out once more.
"Aaannnh... hussbeee...," Margaery whimpered, her voice breaking as her moans began to rise in pitch. Her head thrashed against the furs, her chestnut hair fanning out over the crushed rose petals.
Alaric ignored the plea, his hands moving from the mattress to grip her hips, anchoring her firmly against the bed.
He quickened the pace, each heavy, wet thrust driving her deeper into the furs. Margaery's cries became more frequent and frantic, her body beginning to coil tight as he hit her again and again, ensuring his queens received the exact send-off they had coordinated.
The sensation coiling in Alaric's gut finally snapped. He let out a low, vibrating growl, his hands tightening on Margaery's hips as he drove home one last time, pinning her deep into the furs. He came with a heavy, rhythmic intensity, filling her completely. Margaery's entire body shuddered, her eyes rolling back as she let out a long, broken "Aunnnn... h-haaa...". She collapsed back into the mattress, her chest heaving as the room settled into a thick, heavy silence broken only by their ragged breathing.
Sansa didn't wait for him to recover. Watching the display had completely shattered her Northern restraint, her blue eyes dark and heavy with a desperate heat. She moved with a sudden, uninhibited urgency, her fingers fumbling as she stripped away the remains of her sheer white gown. She tossed the ruined silk onto the floor and crawled over the furs, her bare skin glowing under the flickering light of the braziers.
Margaery lay on her back, her legs still draped over Alaric's shoulders, her hips slightly raised as she recovered from the physical marathon. As Alaric slowly pulled back, the thick, white evidence of his release began to leak out of her, coating her thighs and the dark furs.
Roslin, her own face a vibrant, burning red and her breathing hitched, leaned in immediately. Her brown eyes were wide and glazed as she focused on him, using her tongue with a sweet, eager devotion to lick him clean, ensuring not a single drop went to waste.
Alaric let out a rough, satisfied rumble. He reached out, his large hands wrapping firmly around Sansa's waist as she hovered over him. He didn't offer any gentleness; he simply guided her down, pushing himself inside her with a slow, relentless pressure that made Sansa's head fall back, a loud, sharp gasp escaping her throat.
From beneath her, Margaery reached up, her clever eyes gleaming with a wicked, cooperative intent. She didn't mind sharing the space; instead, she reached out and captured one of Sansa's breasts, pulling the peak into her mouth and lightly grazing it with her teeth.
"H-haaa... Aunnn!" Sansa screamed, the double sensation of Alaric's heavy thrusts from below and Margaery's teasing mouth on her chest sending her into a frenzy
Sansa's fingers dug into Alaric's shoulders, her back arching into a violent curve as he drove into her with a heavy, rhythmic focus. The heat in the room was stifling, thick with the scent of crushed roses and the slick, wet sounds of their joined bodies. Alaric's breath came in low, jagged hitches until the pressure behind his ribs finally burst. He let out a rough, muffled roar, pinning Sansa into the furs as he came deep inside her, his pulse thundering against her skin.
Sansa collapsed against him, her chest heaving, a dazed and triumphant smile touching her lips. Alaric didn't pull away immediately; he leaned over her, his mouth finding Margaery's in a deep, searing kiss that tasted of wine and heat. Margaery met his tongue with hungry desperation, her hands sliding over his damp skin to pull him closer.
Beside them, Roslin was already moving. She was the quietest of the three, but her brown eyes were dark with an intensity that matched the others.
As Alaric finally shifted, pulling out of Sansa with a slow, dragging friction, Roslin leaned in. She used her tongue with a sweet, focused devotion to lick him clean, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped his thick thighs.
Alaric reached down, his hands sliding under Roslin's arms to haul her up. He positioned her between Sansa and Margaery, the three women now a tangle of pale skin and dark furs. He settled onto his knees, his hands spreading wide to find the heat of both Sansa and Margaery. His fingers worked with a relentless, rhythmic pressure that had both women gasping and thrashing against the mattress, their moans rising in a frantic, uncoordinated chorus.
While his hands kept them occupied, Alaric turned his attention back to Roslin. He pulled her flush against his chest and drove into her with a slow, demanding thrust that made her eyes go wide. "H-haaa... !" she cried out, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as she surrendered to the pace. He didn't hold back, his hips buckled forward until he hit the limit of her tolerance, eventually coming deep inside her as well.
The room was filled with the sound of four people fighting for air. Roslin slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, while Sansa and Margaery lay on either side of them, their bodies flushed a vibrant pink.
Margaery was the first to move. She reached for the silver nightstand, her fingers wrapping around one of the crystal bottles of almond oil. She sat up slowly, her messy chestnut hair fanning over her shoulders.
Alaric let out a low, rough rumble of satisfaction as he lay back against the dark furs, the heat of the three women surrounding him. Sansa moved first, her blue eyes dark with a fierce, competitive heat as she straddled his waist. She reached down, her fingers trembling slightly as she guided his heavy length to her entrance, before slowly sinking down until she was completely filled.