Usually, Rhaenyra isn’t so needy. She had never been a very clingy partner in any of her previous relationships, always finding that she was more than happy to enjoy time to herself, to maintain her independence and ability to exist without the need of another person to hold onto.
She’s a busy person. Her job requires a certain amount of focus and energy that can drain her at times, so the idea of putting that energy towards another person, or another relationship just didn’t seem worth it. At least not until she met Mysaria.
She doesn’t necessarily need to hold onto her, or to be with her in order to function. She wants to though. It’s the sort of want that simmers beneath the surface every time their eyes meet, making her feel warm on the inside and lose track of her thoughts. It’s the sort of feeling that makes her leave work early in order to sit on the small couch in Mysaria’s office, pretending to read the paperwork she’s brought along with her as Mysaria types away on her computer at the desk.
Usually, their proximity is enough for her, but for some reason, today it’s different. It is not enough to sit in the quiet of her office, breathing the same air from across the room, existing in the same space with one another. Rhaenyra feels restless, like a livewire ready to spark. Mysaria feels too far away, and it’s a distracting enough thought that Rhaenyra cannot even pretend to pay any mind to the documents she had intended to work on.
“You’re staring.” Mysaria murmurs, eyes unmoving from the illuminated computer screen in front of her, fingers still gliding across the keyboard to type. “I thought those reports needed to be done by tonight?”
Rhaenyra nods at the statement but does not move to look back at the papers scattered on the cushion beside her or the coffee table before her. Shifting a little in her seat, her hands fidgeting with a loose string at the hem of her skirt.
“Do you need something, my love?” Mysaria’s eyes finally move from the computer screen to meet her own from across the room. Rhaenyra feels her lips part to answer the question, but the words refuse to come out of her mouth, leaving her unable to do anything other than exhale shakily when Mysaria appraises her slowly.
She watches the woman watch her, those brown eyes starting at the shape of her legs, trailing up past her knees and thighs, to her satin blouse that reveals just a little bit too much bare skin, and then finally reaching her face once more. A smile spreads across the brunette's lips then, a soft laugh ringing through the room. “Come here, Rhaenyra.”
The speed at which she rises to her feet would have been embarrassing under any other circumstance, but Mysaria looks at her as though her overeagerness is endearing. The older woman is pushing herself a little ways away from her desk as Rhaenyra comes closer, still smiling at her all the while.
It makes Rhaenyra shiver despite the fact that she feels almost unbearably warm, her hands flexing at her sides periodically to ease the restless energy that comes from it.
When she finally reaches Mysaria, that feeling of neediness resurfaces tenfold, barely soothed by the woman’s hands sliding up to grasp her by the waist and pull her between her thighs.
“Do you want me to touch you?” Mysaria asks, soft smile on her lips, looking up at her with a hint of amusement, clearly interested in whatever has managed to rile Rhaenyra up so much.
There is a moment of confusion that reflects in those pretty brown eyes when Rhaenyra shakes her head, but it gives way to clarity when she watches her drop to her knees instead, pressing a kiss against the first bare inch of skin she can reach.
“Please…” Rhaenyra whispers, pulling back to see the lipstick mark she’s left behind on the other woman’s thigh, her hand toying with the side zipper on Mysaria’s skirt as she does. Mysaria appears amused again, looking as though she is debating on whether or not she wants to indulge her.
Rhaenyra lets out a shaky breath at that, sitting back on her heels and letting her free hand slide higher until she’s almost pushing the fabric of her skirt up with it. “Please?” She repeats, bordering on a whine this time, her violet eyes searching Mysaria’s face for an answer.
The nod is the only sign Rhaenyra needs to push her knees a little further apart and urge one onto her shoulder, pulling Mysaria’s hips until she’s almost seated on the edge of the office chair.
“Is this all that you wanted?” The brunette asks with a bit of a laugh, watching as Rhaenyra eagerly tugs her underwear down from beneath her skirt and down her ankles.
The answer comes only after she watches the blonde toss the fabric in some other direction, immediately leaning forward and burying her face between her thighs. The eagerness of Rhaenyra’s mouth is almost too much for her to handle so soon, tongue moving against her in broad strokes, feeling like a tidal wave pushing against a levee.
Rhaenyra’s eyes are closed, her hands wrapped around Mysaria’s thighs to keep her close, seemingly unwilling to focus on anything other than the task before her. So much so that she doesn’t do anything more than look at her through her lashes when Mysaria grabs her by her loosening updo and pulls experimentally.
Rhaenyra’s cheeks burn red at the sound of the whine she lets out at the feeling of Mysaria pulling her hair, the noise audible even as she closes her mouth around the other woman’s sex. She can hear the way the subtle vibrations from it makes the brunette’s breath hitch, thighs tensing around her shoulders before slowly relaxing again.
“Shhh” Mysaria chides her for whining, hand slipping down to trace the curve of her brow, then down a little more to push back the few strands of silver hair that have managed to fall out of her bun throughout the day. After gently tucking the hairs behind her ear, Mysaria humms thoughtfully, looking at her each time Rhaenyra whimpers or sighs while pressing her tongue into her, her hand moving back to hold Rhaenyra’s head in place before she looks away entirely.
Rhaenyra is too caught up in the feel of being utterly surrounded by her to notice that Mysaria is no longer looking down until she hears the clicking of the keyboard again. Her brow furrows at that, and she finds herself pulling back to get a complete breath of air before starting to voice her confusion to the other woman.
“Mys—”
“Be quiet.” The reply isn’t malicious or cruel, it’s not even particularly mean, but the words coming from Mysaria’s mouth send heat straight through her body, making her moan the moment the woman grabs her by her hair again and pushes her back between her legs.
It’s only once Rhaenyra has resumed tracing her tongue up and then down to press inside her again that Mysaria loosens her grip, moving her hand back to the desk, the clicking of the keyboard sounding throughout the room once more.
For a while, that is all Rhaenyra can truly hear above the sound of her blood rushing through her ears and the way Mysaria’s thighs are pressing against her. At home, Mysaria is not afraid to be loud, there is not a single touch Rhaenyra could give her that would not result in some sort of noise, but it is as though now she is intent on making her work harder for it. Or perhaps she is just intent on teasing Rhaenyra even after she’s given her what she wants.
She’s not sure how long it’s been since she buried herself between Mysaria’s thighs, and truthfully she doesn’t care. Her jaw aches and her knees are sore, but Rhaenyra is more than happy to stay there for the rest of her life, achy knees be damned.
Her eyes have fluttered shut and her thoughts have blurred into something entirely inconsequential, leaving her to moan against the woman seated above her as though it is she who is on the receiving end of her tongue.
Rhaenyra is almost startled at the sudden feel of Mysaria’s hand in her hair again, holding her impossibly closer in order to rock her hips against her mouth. Rhaenyra looks up the same time that Mysaria looks down at her, appearing much more composed than she sounds with her makeup unsmudged and not a single hair out of place.
When her thighs start to tremble, Rhaenyra moves to hold her rolling hips against the seat of the chair, attempting to keep Mysaria where she wants her. The sudden stinging sensation against her hand makes her squeak, starting to draw back in surprise only to be shushed by Mysaria and pulled close again.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” The brunette tells her, and though the command is given through heavy breaths, it still has its intended effect. Rhaenyra moans against her again, moving her hands back to the sides of the chair as Mysaria grinds against her face.
When her movements get a little more shaky, and Rhaenyra can feel her thighs tighten around her head, it takes a considerable effort to keep her hands from reaching out, left to watch as Mysaria falls over the edge.
It’s a pretty sight, one that Rhaenyra couldn’t take her eyes off even if she wanted to. Mysaria’s lips part in a breathless sigh as her eyes shut, her hand tightening its hold on Rhaenyra’s hair. Her grip only loosening as her breathing starts to even out again, her body relaxing back into her seat.
“Fuck.” It’s followed by a laugh, and then another soft sigh as she gently nudges Rhaenyra’s mouth away. “Do you feel better now?”
She’s smiling down at her when she says it, making Rhaenyra blush and shyly avoid her gaze by turning to press a kiss on her inner thigh.
“Your knees must be sore.” Mysaria murmurs aloud, taking her chin in hand and brushing a thumb across her wet lips. Rhaenyra is unsure if she is doing it in an effort to make her look presentable, or just to ruin her even more. “Come on, my love, let’s get you home so you have something softer to kneel on.”
She nods, letting Mysaria move the chair back first before slowly rising to her feet, wincing at the ache she feels when she’s fully upright.
“Okay maybe no more kneeling tonight.” The brunette laughs, adjusting her blouse and smoothing out her skirt, catching sight of the pink blotches of skin that surface on Rhaenyra’s knees. “Maybe on your back instead?”
“Oh, it’s my turn when we get home?” Rhaenyra asks then, her voice still soft, though she seemed less needy than she was upon entering the office.
“It would have been your turn when we got to the car if I didn’t think my back was going to hurt tomorrow.”