Game of Thrones: The blind warrior

The air inside Arren's tent was still and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos and noise that had dominated the day. The fire from the tournament had burned out, leaving only the glow of the moon filtering through the fabric of the tent, casting soft shadows on the floor. Arren sat with his back against the makeshift bedroll, his blindfold still tied securely over his eyes, his mind occupied with thoughts of the fights that had stretched on for hours. His body ached, but his mind—his mind was far from at ease.

Just then, the soft rustling of fabric announced Doreah's arrival. She stepped into his tent, moving gracefully as she always did, her presence somehow grounding him even in the quiet moments they shared. Arren tilted his head slightly, sensing her approach without the need for sight. He had become accustomed to her visits, the quiet conversations they would share after long days in the camp.

"Doreah," he said softly, acknowledging her presence as she moved closer. She settled down beside him, the warmth of her body so close to his that it set his nerves alight in ways he wasn't sure he should allow.

"I saw your fight today," Doreah said, her voice smooth and teasing. "It seems you've earned the respect of the entire camp."

Arren exhaled quietly, shrugging. "It's not about respect," he replied. "It's about survival. You know that as well as I do."

"Maybe," Doreah mused, her gaze fixed on him. "But I saw more than just survival out there. You were different today."

Arren turned his head slightly in her direction, unsure of what she meant. "Different?"

She smiled faintly, her voice growing softer, more intimate. "I've never seen you like that before. So... raw. So powerful." Her words hung in the air, thick with meaning.

They continued to talk, the conversation drifting between mundane things—camp life, Daenerys, the people they served. Yet beneath every word, there was an undercurrent, an unspoken tension that had been building between them for some time.

And then, out of nowhere, Doreah leaned in slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she asked, "Can I see it again?"

Arren, taken aback, frowned in confusion. "See what?"

Doreah didn't answer with words. Instead, her hand slipped beneath the torn remnants of his shirt, her fingers lightly brushing against his chest. The sudden contact sent a jolt through Arren, his muscles tightening beneath her touch. He hadn't expected this—hadn't expected her to be so bold.

She smiled as she felt the tension in his body, her eyes flickering with amusement. "Your strength, your scars," she whispered. "You hide so much, Arren. Let me see you."

Arren's heart raced, the heat between them becoming undeniable. He had tried to keep his distance, tried to suppress the desire that had been gnawing at him since the day he first noticed the way she looked at him. But now, with her so close, her fingers tracing the lines of his skin, that restraint was crumbling fast.

His own hand moved, almost involuntarily, covering hers. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the subtle tremble in her touch. And then, without thinking, he let his hand drift upward, grazing her skin, feeling the curve of her body as his fingers found purchase.

Doreah's breath hitched at the contact, her eyes half-lidded as she leaned into him, closing the distance between them even further. There was no denying the pull between them now. Whatever had been left unsaid for so long was suddenly laid bare in the quiet of the tent.

For a moment, they both remained frozen, caught in the heat of the moment. Arren could feel his own self-control slipping away, his mind warring with itself. He had spent so long keeping his desires at bay, convinced that his path was one of isolation and duty. But now, with Doreah's warmth so close, so inviting, he wasn't sure he could hold onto that resolve any longer.

Just as he leaned in, the soft swish of fabric at the entrance of the tent broke the spell.

Arren stiffened, immediately sensing another presence in the tent. Doreah turned slightly, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw who had entered. Standing just a few feet away, her face flushed and her breath shallow, was Daenerys.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and charged with unspoken emotion. Arren's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the position they were in, the lines they had already begun to cross. But what surprised him most was the look on Daenerys's face—not of anger or disappointment, but something else entirely.

Daenerys's eyes were locked on Arren, her gaze drifting over his half-naked form, the remnants of his shirt hanging loosely from his body. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak, but no words came. Instead, she remained frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly as though she were trying to control her own reaction.

It was Doreah who broke the silence, her voice low and filled with amusement. "You're just in time, Khaleesi."

Daenerys blinked, the spell breaking slightly as she realized what Doreah had said. A blush crept up her neck, but she didn't move. She didn't leave. Instead, she stood there, torn between whatever desire had gripped her and the part of her that knew she should leave.

Doreah, sensing the queen's hesitation, smiled and leaned back slightly, still keeping one hand on Arren. "There's no need to be shy," she said softly, her tone playful. "We're all friends here, aren't we?"

Arren's mind spun, unsure of what to do or say. This was far beyond anything he had expected. The tension between him and Daenerys had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but he had never allowed himself to entertain the thought. Not fully. She was the queen, the Mother of Dragons. And he was nothing more than a cursed warrior, bound by duty and fate.

But as Daenerys's eyes met his, there was no mistaking the look in her gaze. Desire. Hunger. The same thing that had been building between him and Doreah now burned in her eyes as well.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Arren's hand tightened around Doreah's as he tried to keep his composure, but the weight of both women's gazes on him was almost too much. The air was thick with tension, and the boundaries that had once seemed so clear now blurred into nothing.

Daenerys's hand drifted to the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as she hesitated. Her breath quickened, her eyes flicking between Arren and Doreah, unsure of what she was about to do but unable to stop herself.

Doreah turned her head slightly, her smile widening as she watched the queen. "Come," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "Join us."

And with that, the unspoken boundaries between them fell away completely.

Doreah's fingers moved lower, brushing over Arren's abdomen, her touch teasing and slow, sliding under his waistband. The rough pads of her fingers trailed down his skin until she reached the heavy length of him, already hard. She gripped him, her hand wrapping around his cock, stroking the thick shaft with a deliberate pace that made his hips jerk in response.

"Ahhh… fuck…" Arren groaned, the sound escaping his throat like a growl. He leaned his head back, his body tense under the relentless pressure of Doreah's hand, her grip firm and tight, stroking him with slow, wet "schlick" sounds filling the small space of the tent as her hand worked him over.

Doreah smirked, feeling him throb in her grasp, her own arousal evident in the way her breathing had quickened. Her thumb brushed over the slick head of his cock, smearing the precum that leaked from him with a slow, teasing motion. "Mmm, you like this, don't you, Arren?" she whispered, her voice thick with lust.

Arren grunted in response, his teeth gritted as he struggled to keep control, his muscles flexing beneath his skin as she continued to work him. His breath was ragged, chest heaving as he tried to focus, but the wet glide of Doreah's hand around his cock was too much.

Daenerys, standing just inches away, watched them both, her eyes dark with hunger as she slowly raised her dress. She wasn't shy anymore—her fingers slid between her own legs, parting her slick folds as she watched Doreah stroke Arren. Her moan, soft and breathless, escaped her lips as her fingers dipped inside herself, her other hand cupping her breast, pinching her own nipple hard.

"Ahhhh…" Daenerys gasped, her breath hitching as she touched herself, the wet sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of her cunt joining the obscene rhythm of Doreah's hand on Arren. "Mmmm… f-fuck…" Her voice trembled, and her hips moved against her fingers as she pleasured herself while watching him, her eyes never leaving the thick cock in Doreah's grip.

Doreah chuckled, the sound low and throaty, her hand moving faster now, slicking along his length with every stroke, her grip squeezing him tighter. "He's a fucking beast, Khaleesi… feel him." She tugged Daenerys closer, urging her to take over.

Daenerys hesitated for only a moment before she obeyed, her soft fingers replacing Doreah's, gripping Arren's cock, the wetness making a lewd "schlop" as she worked him faster, her small hand barely able to wrap around his girth. Arren groaned, his hips thrusting up, meeting her strokes as he fucked her hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Uuhhh… f-fuck…" Arren's voice was a guttural snarl, his hips bucking up into Daenerys's hand as she squeezed him, stroking with more confidence now, her lips parting as she gasped at how hard he was. Her eyes flicked up to his face, watching the blindfolded warrior unravel under her touch, his cock twitching in her hand with every stroke.

Doreah, still kneeling beside them, ran her tongue along the length of Arren's neck, her lips grazing his skin as her hand slid down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin. "Mmmm, you want to be inside her, don't you?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Feel how fucking wet she is…"

Daenerys bit her lip, her own arousal mounting as her hand moved faster, the wet sound of her fingers sliding along his cock filling the air, mixing with the desperate gasps and groans from Arren. "Aaaah… fuck…" His body tensed, muscles flexing beneath their touch as he fought to hold back, his cock throbbing in Daenerys's grip.

Doreah, not waiting any longer, slid her hand between Daenerys's legs, her fingers spreading the Khaleesi's slick folds, teasing her. "Mmm, so wet… ready for him." Her fingers dipped inside Daenerys's pussy, a wet "schlick" sound following as she thrust her fingers deep, curling them to find that spot that made the queen moan louder.

"Aaahhhnn… yes…" Daenerys gasped, her body shuddering as Doreah's fingers fucked her, the wet sounds of her pussy filling the tent as her hips ground down against the thrusting fingers. Her hand never stopped stroking Arren's cock, slick and hot, her grip tightening as she felt him pulse in her hand.

Arren's control was slipping fast. He growled, a deep, primal sound, his body straining against the pleasure overwhelming him. "Uuuhhhmm… gods…" His voice was hoarse, his breath ragged, every stroke pushing him closer to the edge.

Doreah withdrew her fingers from Daenerys's cunt with a wet "schlop," her eyes glinting with desire as she smeared the queen's slickness over Arren's cock. "Go on, Khaleesi…" she urged, her voice a low purr. "Ride him."

Daenerys didn't hesitate. She climbed onto Arren's lap, her wet pussy hovering over his cock for a moment before she sank down onto him, taking him inside her with a loud, wet "schlick" as he filled her completely. "Aaaaahnnn… fuck…" she cried, her voice breaking as she felt him stretch her, the tightness of her cunt gripping him like a vice.

Arren's head tilted back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt Daenerys's slick heat envelop him, her pussy so tight around his cock that it made his entire body tremble. "F-fuck… so tight…" he groaned, his hips jerking up into her as she rode him, her wet pussy making obscene noises with every thrust.

Doreah, watching them with a wicked smile, knelt beside them, her hand moving between Daenerys's legs, her fingers finding the Khaleesi's swollen clit, rubbing it in tight circles. "Mmmm, that's it… fuck him… take all of him…" she whispered, her fingers moving faster as Daenerys's moans grew louder, her body shuddering with each thrust.

"Uuhhnnn… fuck… ahhhh…" Daenerys's cries were loud, her voice high-pitched and desperate as she rode Arren harder, her hips slamming down onto him, her pussy squeezing his cock as Doreah's fingers worked her clit, sending her spiraling toward the edge.

Arren's grip tightened on Daenerys's hips, his breath coming in rough, ragged bursts as he thrust up into her, his cock slick with her juices, every wet "schlick" driving him closer to the breaking point. "Uuhhh… fuck… Khaleesi… I'm gonna—" His voice broke, his body shaking as he neared release, the pressure unbearable.

Daenerys moaned, her voice trembling as she felt him throb inside her, her body grinding down on him, chasing her own pleasure. "Aaahhhnnn… f-fuck… I'm gonna… aaaaahhh…" Her moan turned into a scream as her orgasm ripped through her, her body clenching hard around his cock, her juices spilling over him as she came, her pussy squeezing him tight.

Arren couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, shuddering groan, he thrust deep into her, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her, the heat of his release flooding her as he growled, "F-fuck… uuhhhhnnn…" His entire body trembled as the pleasure overtook him, every muscle tight as he filled her with every last drop.

The tent was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the wet, obscene noises of their fucking finally giving way to the quiet aftermath.