Chapter 5
Monday came and went.
And Alicent Hightower wasn’t in class.
She wasn’t anywhere, actually. Not in the lecture hall, not in the library where she always holed up with Frida to pretend she didn’t look up when certain people passed. Not in the dining hall pretending she wasn’t waiting for someone to sit beside her.
Rhaenyra noticed immediately.
By the third unanswered message, she was pacing her room, phone in hand, jaw tight.
“Where are you?”
“Are you okay?”
“Hightower, seriously. At least tell me you’re alive.”
All left on read—or maybe not even opened.
But somewhere, not so far away, in a high-rise shielded from the world by blackout curtains and suffocating heat, Alicent was most definitely not okay.
She didn’t think it was possible. Not from just… that. Not from heat-of-the-moment kisses and hands slipping beneath dresses and laughter turned to something ragged and breathless. But her body had other plans.
Her rut had started. Early. Violently.
And she was miserable.
The room was a haze of dim lamplight and the stale scent of sweat and pheromones she couldn't control. Her body was too hot for clothes, her mind too clouded for reason. Her breaths came in short, stuttering pants as she lay curled on her bed, her sheets tangled around her legs, the mattress beneath her damp from hours of fevered thrashing.
It had been days. Or it felt like days. Maybe it was just hours. Time meant nothing when her body betrayed her like this.
What made it worse—so much worse—was the fact that her mind wouldn’t stop betraying her either.
It wasn’t just the heat. It was the images.
Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra’s voice, that low teasing lilt when she whispered right against her lips.
Rhaenyra’s laugh, lazy and smug, like she always knew what Alicent was thinking.
Rhaenyra’s fingers on her thigh.
Her breath on her neck.
Her mouth, slow and devouring.
Her dress slipping up.
Alicent whimpered, turning onto her stomach, biting the edge of her pillow like it might stop the spiraling thoughts, but it didn’t. Nothing helped.
The worst part? She’d already done it. More than once. Just to make the ache go away.
Her fingers still trembled when she touched herself, frantic and shame-ridden, like praying to a god she didn't believe in just for some kind of release. But even then, the only thing that came to her—burned into the inside of her eyelids like sin—was her.
Rhaenyra. Always her.
She'd whispered her name once. Out loud.
And immediately clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
How had it come to this?
How had one night, one stupid fight and a limousine and a kiss that turned into something unholy—how had that one thing unmade her like this?
Her skin was hypersensitive. The thought of touch made her twitch. The memory of touch made her cry out.
She hated it. Hated how weak she felt. How undone. How she couldn’t stop remembering every breathless sound Rhaenyra made, every smirk, every wicked little comment designed to get under her skin—and had.
She hated that it worked.
And most of all, she hated that she didn’t even know what Rhaenyra was thinking now. Was she mad? Was she bored? Had she moved on?
Had she felt anything at all?
The idea that it might’ve meant nothing to her, that she was just another fun mess to poke at—Alicent felt sick at the thought. But she couldn’t reach out. Couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t face her.
Not like this. Not with her thighs shaking and her chest heaving and Rhaenyra’s name carved into her brain like a fever dream.
So she turned off her phone. Threw it across the room.
And let herself fall back into the endless loop of heat and shame and memory—of skin, and scent, and silver-blonde hair, and a laugh that had the power to ruin her without even trying.
Wednesday came, heavy with whispers.
The kind that clung to walls, lived in the silence between footsteps, and bloomed in the way eyes lingered a second too long.
It had only taken one call.
Criston, ever the eager protector, had taken it upon himself to "check in" on Alicent when she didn’t show. And when her mother calmly explained it was a rut, that she was resting, he froze. And then he panicked.
And of course, Criston Cole was incapable of panic in silence.
He told a friend, who told another—who apparently had a group chat.
By mid-morning Wednesday, the entire student body had a theory.
And the theories were wild.
Some said Alicent collapsed in Rhaenyra’s car after some “heated exchange.”
Some said Alicent had marked her. Claimed her.
Others said it was all an accident, that Alicent had no idea what was happening and Rhaenyra “took advantage.”
One particularly detailed thread claimed Alicent had begged.
Rhaenyra kept walking, jaw tight, as the voices chased her from hallway to hallway.
But what really twisted the knife was that none of the rumors were too far off.
And then there were the photos.
A handful from the family gathering had already gone up on the Lannister cousin’s vlog—Alicnets’s hand brushing Rhaenyra’s back, the two of them slipping away from the crowd, laughing, close. Too close.
She could see the frame-by-frame commentary on some student's phone screen as she passed the courtyard:
"Did anyone else notice the tension???"
"Their hands??? Look at the hands."
"Plot twist: Rhaenyra turned her out fr."
And the cherry on top?
The faint red mark that had just barely peaked out beneath Rhaenyra’s blouse that morning when she changed in the locker room. She hadn’t thought twice about it—until she saw the two omega girls across the bench nudge each other and stare.
No one said anything to her face.
Not yet.
But Rhaenyra could feel it—the looks. The speculation. The judgment, not from the bold, but from the ones who knew how to cut you up with a glance.
And then she saw Frida.
The look in her eyes wasn’t confusion, or even surprise. It was pure hatred.
Frida didn’t say a word. Just looked at her like she was filth. Like she knew.
Rhaenyra stopped mid-step. The hallway felt colder.
Frida brushed past her, shoulder to shoulder, deliberate, like the message wasn’t meant to be subtle. And it wasn’t. The message was clear: whatever Alicent had with her, it was a betrayal.
Rhaenyra stood there, spine straight, biting down the urge to defend herself. To explain. But she couldn’t. Because there was no way to explain what happened that night without revealing too much—about herself, about Alicent, about the blurry line they had both crossed and pretended wasn’t real.
The worst part?
She hadn’t heard from her. Not a single word since that night in the limo.
No texts. No calls.
Just silence.
And Rhaenyra hated that it hurt more than the whispers.
Friday.
The room was quiet now. The sun slipped through the heavy curtains in soft streaks, illuminating dust in the air, highlighting the mess she hadn’t touched all week — empty glasses, discarded clothes, her untouched laptop blinking from sleep mode.
Alicent lay curled up on her bed, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. Her body felt… hollow. Sore, sure. Weak, a little. But it wasn’t just physical anymore — the rut had passed, finally. Her scent was fading from the room, and her skin no longer burned with fever. But the echo of it, the intensity, lingered in the corners of her mind.
And then there was the guilt. The kind that wrapped itself around her like a second skin. The kind that whispered you wanted her in the middle of the night. The kind that burned worse than the rut itself.
She shouldn’t have drunk that much. She shouldn’t have followed Rhaenyra into that damn limousine. She shouldn’t have let it get that far — her hands, her mouth, her heat clouding everything until Rhaenyra was the only thing that made sense. The only thing she could think of.
And the shame that followed after. That she’d touched herself thinking of her. More than once. That she’d said things — desperate, wanting things — she didn’t even remember clearly now. She didn’t even know who she was in those moments.
She groaned and finally reached for her phone, powering it back on like it might explode in her hands.
It buzzed to life instantly. Notifications piled in one after another. Her heart sank.
18 missed calls.
Criston. Her friends. Rhaenyra.
She hesitated before opening her messages, thumb hovering above Rhaenyra’s name. She tapped.
Ten messages. The first few were simple.
"Are you okay?"
"Why aren't you answering me?"
"Alicent?"
Then…
"I heard your rut started. Hope this helps."
Her breath caught when she saw the attachments.
Photos.
Not explicit, but enough to make her pulse spike and her throat go dry. Rhaenyra, bare-shouldered, laid across silky sheets. The way she looked into the camera — amused, daring, a little smug — made it impossible to look away. Her skin was flushed in the golden hour light, hair wild, her smirk dangerous.
Alicent stared for too long. She hated that her body responded instantly. She hated the part of her that wanted to save them. To look again.
It took several minutes before she finally scrolled down.
"Answer me."
"Please."
"Don’t tell me you regret it now."
The lump in her throat tightened. The truth was, she didn’t even know. What did regret mean when her mind couldn’t even untangle itself?
She exited the thread too fast, guilt crawling down her spine. Then her eyes landed on another message — this one from Frida.
"We can talk. But you can never talk to Rhaenyra again."
She didn’t respond. Not to either of them.
Instead, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and stared at the screen until it dimmed.
Her world had split in two.
And she was still standing in the middle, not knowing which direction to fall.
Monday.
Campus was different now.
It wasn’t that people stared — not openly, not rudely. But they looked. Quiet side glances, hushed whispers, that strange energy that clings to rumors you can’t quite confirm. And everyone had heard something by now. About the limousine. About the party. About the marks.
Rhaenyra walked through the courtyard with her chin held high, but her expression betrayed the strain. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes scanned each face with measured indifference. But beneath the confidence, she was tense. Waiting.
Waiting for her.
Alicent.
And she wasn’t here.
Still.
A week had passed, and aside from the silence, there had been nothing. No response. No sarcasm. No heat. No fire. And Rhaenyra hadn’t realized how used to that fire she’d become — how much she missed it now that it was gone.
She slid into her seat in the lecture hall. People didn’t sit as close as they used to. Not since the stories started to spin — all exaggerated, of course, but annoyingly close to the truth.
A group of omegas across the aisle glanced her way and whispered.
One of them laughed. Another bit her lip.
Rhaenyra didn’t even flinch. She just rested her elbow on the desk and stared at the front of the class like nothing mattered. Like she wasn’t waiting for a certain Hightower to walk through the doors.
But she didn’t.
Not on Monday. Not Tuesday.
Wednesday.
Rhaenyra’s patience had limits.
So, when the class ended, she didn’t linger. She walked straight out of the hall, passed the quad, out past the library, and pulled out her phone with practiced fingers.
Her last message sat unread.
Still.
She stared at it for a second longer before locking her screen again.
She didn’t know what was worse — the silence or the not knowing why.
Was Alicent ashamed? Did she regret it? Did she mean what she said that night — or any of it?
Rhaenyra had played it cool for days now. But it was wearing thin.
Which is why, when she got into her car, she didn’t go home. Instead, she sent a short text.
“Open the damn gate.”
She didn’t wait for a reply.
The Hightower estate gate creaked open after a moment of hesitation. Rhaenyra didn’t even wait for the guard to gesture — she pulled the car forward smoothly, lips set in a straight line. She didn’t need an invitation. Not now.
She didn’t get out of the car.
A minute passed before Alicent appeared.
She looked like she hadn’t slept well — oversized coat draped over a soft shirt, a braid unraveling at the sides. She didn’t meet Rhaenyra’s eyes right away. Just walked across the drive, opened the passenger side door, and slid in.
No words.
Rhaenyra put the car in drive.
The silence stretched long. Through the long, winding roads. Past the trees that bent with the breeze. Past the awkward beat of tension that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Until Alicent finally asked, softly, "Why’d you send the photos?"
Rhaenyra didn’t take her eyes off the road. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You weren’t answering. I wanted to get your attention."
"You did," Alicent said, voice edged with something fragile — regret, maybe.
More silence.
Then, "I'm sorry," she said. “For the limo. For... everything after. I was drunk, and—"
"You think that’s what pissed me off?" Rhaenyra cut in sharply, finally glancing at her. “You think I’m mad because of some sloppy kiss and a rut that kept you off campus?”
Alicent shrunk back just a little, unsure.
“I’m mad,” Rhaenyra continued, voice cool, controlled, “because you disappear for days and then come back acting like that night was a mistake. Like I was something to be ashamed of.”
"I didn't say that—"
"You didn’t have to,” Rhaenyra snapped. “You ignored me. You left me wondering if you even felt anything.”
Alicent didn’t respond. Her cheeks were burning.
"And while you were hiding," Rhaenyra added with a bitter laugh, "people talked. Because of course they did. You know what they’re saying, right?"
Alicent shook her head once, hesitant.
“That I fucked you into rut at a damn party,” Rhaenyra said flatly. “That you got so excited riding me in a limo you couldn’t even make it to Monday without going into rut.”
Alicent’s face turned crimson, horror washing over her like a wave. “Gods…”
“Yeah,” Rhaenyra muttered. “You should see the way people look at me in the locker room. Like I’m some walking fantasy. And Frida? She looks at me like I skinned her dog.”
Alicent sank deeper into the passenger seat, eyes wide, mouth parted but no words came.
Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, returning her gaze to the road. “I didn’t care at first. Let them talk, right? But I do care when it’s you running away instead of owning it.”
“I didn’t run—”
“Yes, you did,” Rhaenyra cut in again, tone sharp, raw. “And you’re still doing it.”
The car slowed near an overlook, the trees breaking just enough to see the stretch of hills below. Rhaenyra pulled over, killing the engine. The silence returned, thick and tense in the confined space.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were something to hide,” Alicent said quietly, after a while.
“You did.”
A pause. Then, still without looking at her, Rhaenyra asked, “Do you?”
Alicent blinked. “What?”
“Feel like I’m something to hide,” she repeated.
Alicent didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up around the words.
Rhaenyra nodded to herself like that was all the confirmation she needed. Her jaw clenched, and she went to open the car door.
But Alicent caught her wrist. Not harshly — just enough.
“I don’t,” she whispered.
Rhaenyra froze.
“I didn’t know how to deal with everything,” Alicent continued. “My body, the shame, the rumors. You. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away.”
“Did it?” Rhaenyra asked, voice low.
Alicent shook her head. “No. It only made it worse.”
For a moment, neither said anything. They started driving again.
Alicent finally spoke, her voice quiet and unsure. “I don’t know about this... I don’t know if I’m in love with you.”
Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened. She kept her eyes on the road, pretending it didn’t sting. “It doesn’t have to be about love,” she said. “Maybe we’re just figuring things out. Maybe it’s just... what we want right now.”
It wasn’t true—not for her. But she could lie. If it meant keeping Alicent close, even a little longer, she could deal with that.
Alicent looked over, uncertain. She gave a small nod, but the silence that followed felt heavy.
Rhaenyra tried to lighten the mood. She smiled, glancing at her. “Be honest,” she said, teasing, “when it was happening... was I the one you were thinking about?”
Alicent’s face turned red. She looked away, lips parted but saying nothing.
Rhaenyra leaned back, amused. “What did you picture?” she asked. “What was I doing? How did I sound?”
Alicent squirmed in her seat. The teasing was too much. She felt exposed, overwhelmed.
But Rhaenyra kept going, her voice soft, smug. “Did I make you feel like you needed more?”
Alicent couldn’t take it anymore. Her voice was low, steady. “Do you want me to show you?”
Rhaenyra froze. The playful look slipped from her face as she stared at Alicent, quiet now, really looking at her.
Alicent didn’t look away. She meant it. No more pretending.
Done pretending she didn’t want her.
Rhaenyra didn’t say a word. She just turned the wheel with sharp purpose and pulled off the main road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they entered a quiet, wooded turnout. The trees loomed tall around them, casting the car in shade, the hum of the engine giving way to the stillness of late afternoon.
Alicent watched her, heart pounding in her throat. She didn’t ask why they were stopping—she already knew.
“Push your seat back,” Rhaenyra said, voice low, steady.
Alicent nodded, swallowing hard as she adjusted her seat. The leather gave a soft creak as she shifted, trying not to overthink it. This wasn’t something she’d planned—hell, it wasn’t something she’d even let herself imagine before—but now that it was happening, her body was too hot, too aware, and her thoughts were a blur.
Rhaenyra climbed over, trembling as she settled into Alicent’s lap. Her knees bracketed Alicent’s hips, her hands uncertain as they found the slope of her shoulders, as if asking for permission she didn’t know how to phrase. She wasn’t sure where this was going—only that it was already too late to back out.
Alicent’s hands hovered, unsure where to go. Her breath hitched as she felt Rhaenyra’s weight press against her, every nerve in her body suddenly tuned to the shape of her. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, brows drawing together as she felt just how close they were. There was no hiding anything now.
Rhaenyra let out a shaky breath, her lips barely grazing Alicent’s as she whispered, “You okay?”
Alicent gave the faintest nod, and that was enough.
They kissed. Slowly at first. Soft, searching, like they were writing a language together with mouths and hands, unsure of the grammar but fluent in want. Rhaenyra tasted like nerves and warmth and something raw underneath it all. Alicent deepened the kiss without thinking, one hand settling on Rhaenyra’s waist, the other tangled in her hair, like anchoring herself.
Neither of them knew what the hell they were doing—but that didn’t stop the wanting. Rhaenyra shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and that slight movement was enough to make Alicent stiffen, jaw clenching, her breath catching audibly.
Rhaenyra smiled against her lips. She felt it. Felt her.
Alicent let out something between a groan and a gasp, her head falling back against the seat as her hands gripped tighter at Rhaenyra’s waist. “Seven hells…”
But Rhaenyra didn’t tease. Not this time. She kissed the curve of her jaw, her breath warm, her lips soft. This was new for both of them, and even with the urgency humming beneath their skin, there was care—cautious, unpracticed, but real.
“I’ve never done this before,” Rhaenyra admitted quietly, her voice barely more than breath.
Alicent’s eyes opened. “Me neither.”
The words hung in the air like a secret finally set free.
They kissed — or tried to. It was clumsy, like their mouths didn’t fully sync. Alicent tilted her head at the wrong moment, and Rhaenyra's nose bumped into hers hard enough that she winced.
“Sorry,” Rhaenyra whispered, lips brushing Alicent’s cheek instead. She laughed nervously. Her fingers gripped the collar of Alicent’s coat tighter.
“No, it’s— fine,” Alicent murmured, but her voice broke at the end.
It would’ve been easier if they could’ve stopped, pulled back and laughed it off. But instead, Rhaenyra leaned in again, this time slower, more careful. Their lips met, and for a second — just a second — it worked. Soft and quiet.
Then Rhaenyra adjusted her hips again, instinct more than intention, and suddenly she was right there — pressure grinding unintentionally over Alicent’s lap.
Alicent gasped — sharp and immediate. Her hands twitched against Rhaenyra’s waist, unsure if they should hold on or let go. Rhaenyra blinked, the realization hitting her with full heat in her chest and neck.
“Oh—” she breathed, half mortified.
“I— I didn’t mean to—” she started, already trying to pull back.
“No, don’t,” Alicent said, her voice small, strangled. “Just... don’t move like that. Or— . Do. I don’t know.”
They were both a mess. Rhaenyra couldn’t look her in the eye. She pressed her forehead against Alicent’s shoulder, fighting the urge to laugh or cry or scream into the silence.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered.
Alicent’s hands finally landed, tentative and warm, holding Rhaenyra’s sides like she might shatter. “It is.”
But neither of them stopped.
They kissed again — wetter, messier. Rhaenyra’s teeth grazed Alicent’s lip. Her thigh trembled against her. Their breathing tangled, hot and frantic, and Rhaenyra ground down again without meaning to — this time slower.
Alicent’s head thumped back against the seat. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted around a sharp inhale. “Gods, Rhaenyra...”
Rhaenyra pulled back just enough to watch her — the way her lashes fluttered, the flush crawling up her throat. It was too much. All of it.
Rhaenyra reached down, fumbling with the hem of her shirt, dragging it up and over her head in one shaky motion. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen from kissing, and she was still trembling.
Alicent stared.
“Do you want this?” Rhaenyra asked, voice bare.
Alicent didn’t answer with words—just lifted her hands, slow and reverent, to Rhaenyra’s waist and pulled her closer again. She sat up, burying her face against Rhaenyra’s chest, breathing her in. “I think.”
They kissed again—deeper, needier. Rhaenyra gasped as Alicent’s hands slid over her back, nails dragging lightly, anchoring her. It wasn’t careful anymore. It was hungry.
And then Rhaenyra’s hips rolled again—only this time, slower. Intentional.
She wanted to feel Alicent. All of her.
Alicent’s restraint buckled.
Her hands found the waistband of Rhaenyra’s jeans, fingers working them open with more urgency than finesse. Rhaenyra helped, lifting just enough to get them down, awkward in the cramped space but not caring. Her underwear followed, and for a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, ragged and uneven.
Alicent looked up at her like she was seeing her for the first time—afraid, overwhelmed, aroused beyond reason. “You sure?”
Rhaenyra nodded. “Please.”
Alicent freed herself with shaking hands, biting her lip hard as her cock sprang free, flushed, throbbing, aching for contact. She positioned herself beneath Rhaenyra, one hand guiding, the other braced on Rhaenyra’s hip.
Rhaenyra tried to lower herself—but—
She winced. “Shit—”
There was resistance.
Alicent froze. “Wait. It’s okay.”
Rhaenyra nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t think—”
“I know.” Alicent leaned forward and kissed her again, gentler now. “We’ll go slow.”
Rhaenyra adjusted again, still trembling, trying to breathe through it. Alicent guided her with quiet patience, letting her move at her own pace.
And then—
Rhaenyra gasped, hips sinking lower, just enough to take the head in. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh—fuck.”
Alicent’s head dropped back against the seat. “Jesus, Rhaenyra—”
Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat as she sank lower, inch by inch. Her hands were braced on Alicent’s shoulders, fingers digging in as her body struggled to adjust. It wasn’t pain exactly—it was just so much. Too much. And still not enough.
Alicent was wide-eyed beneath her, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts. She wasn’t breathing right. Neither of them were.
"Okay?" Alicent asked, voice hoarse, almost breaking.
Rhaenyra nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah... I just—give me a second.”
It was quiet for a moment, the only sound the frantic pace of their hearts, the way their breath tangled. Rhaenyra was shaking slightly, caught between the sharp edge of discomfort and the slow, creeping pleasure blooming under her skin.
Then, slowly, experimentally, she shifted her hips. A shallow grind. Just a little.
A soft, broken moan slipped out of Alicent’s mouth before she could stop it. Her hands flew up instinctively—one catching Rhaenyra’s waist, the other sliding along her thigh like she was anchoring herself to reality.
“Nyra,” Alicent breathed, eyes fluttering shut. “You—you're... so warm.”
Rhaenyra flushed, head dipping forward. Her forehead met Alicent’s, both of them clinging now, like if they let go they’d unravel completely. “You make it sound like I’m trying to kill you,” she whispered, trying to tease, but her voice shook.
“You are,” Alicent said, half-laughing, half-moan.
Rhaenyra moved again, a little deeper this time, and they both gasped. It wasn’t graceful—she slipped a bit, knees knocking awkwardly against the center console. Alicent tried to help, adjusting her angle, but it just made Rhaenyra jolt harder against her.
She whined, high and needy. “Oh my god—”
“Sorry—sorry,” Alicent said, trying to find a rhythm, but her hips bucked too fast and Rhaenyra made a choked sound that was equal parts shock and arousal.
“Stop apologizing,” Rhaenyra muttered, face buried in Alicent’s neck. “I don’t—just do it right.”
“You’re not helping!” Alicent bit back, but her voice cracked with a moan as Rhaenyra moved again, rolling her hips, more confidently now.
It was clumsy. Messy. They were a tangle of limbs, sweaty and flushed and half out of breath. Every time they found a pace, it stuttered. Every moan was a little too loud, every kiss a little too desperate.
And neither of them cared.
Because they were in it now—drenched in heat, fumbling through pleasure, two people with too much between them and no clue how to make it simple.
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent gasped, holding her tighter, voice strangled and wrecked. “You feel—god—”
Rhaenyra just kissed her—open-mouthed and hungry, like that was the only answer she had.
Alicent’s breath hitched. Her fingers flexed on Rhaenyra’s hips like she’d been holding herself back with everything she had—and now the leash was gone.
She moved.
Not slowly. Not gently.
She thrust up hard, her grip tightening, dragging Rhaenyra down at the same time. It wasn’t coordinated, not graceful—it was messy and sudden, and Rhaenyra cried out, her hands slamming against the dash again, legs twitching.
“Oh fuck—” she gasped, hips jerking in reflex. “Alicent—!”
But Alicent wasn’t thinking anymore. She couldn’t. Something in her had snapped. She’d waited too long, wanted too much, and now that Rhaenyra had given her permission—now that she was inside her and Rhaenyra was moaning like that—she couldn’t hold back.
Her hips snapped up again, sharp, fast, desperate. Her nails bit into Rhaenyra’s skin. Her mouth was open, panting against Rhaenyra’s collarbone.
Rhaenyra tried to ride it—tried to match the pace—but it was too much, too sudden. Her thighs shook, her moans tumbling out half-garbled, more like whimpers. “W-wait—fuck, wait—”
But Alicent didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
She was swearing now too, muttering into Rhaenyra’s skin—“I’m sorry, I can’t—I need you—I need you so bad—” Her voice broke, cracked, and she thrust up again, the seat creaking under them both.
Rhaenyra’s hands fumbled, grabbing at her shoulders, nails digging in. She was overwhelmed—lost in it, flooded with sensation, with Alicent’s sudden heat and force. Her head dropped back, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as her body jerked with each movement.
It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t romantic.
It was raw. Frantic. The kind of need that made them both forget where they were.
Alicent barely registered the way Rhaenyra writhed, the way she stammered half-sentences between gasps. Her mind was only full of how warm Rhaenyra felt, how tight, how much she needed to be buried in her, deeper still.
And just as suddenly, Rhaenyra grabbed Alicent’s face—fingers curling tight around her jaw, forcing her to look up.
“Slow down,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”
Alicent stilled. Her eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving.
Rhaenyra let out a shaky laugh against Alicent’s neck, still catching her breath. “Okay—shit—wait.”
Alicent froze, instantly worried. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” Rhaenyra panted, nuzzling into her, lips brushing sweat-damp skin. “No. It’s just—” She shifted, legs twitching beneath her. “My knees are killing me.”
She pulled back slightly, glancing down at the awkward angle she was perched in, half-crouched on top of her, one boot still planted against the floor mat, the other bracing awkwardly on the edge of the console. Her thighs trembled. “I can’t feel my left leg,” she muttered, breathless. “This is not sustainable.”
Alicent blinked like she’d only just registered the position they were in. Her hands were still clamped to Rhaenyra’s hips, holding her like she might float away if she let go. “Shit—okay. Yeah. Move, move.”
Rhaenyra carefully eased off her lap, wincing slightly as she settled back into the driver’s seat for just a second, reaching to pop the car into park—finally. Then she looked over her shoulder, toward the backseat. “We’re doing this properly.”
Alicent’s eyebrows jumped. “You’re serious?”
“Unless you want to finish with my foot cramping and your dick stuck in the steering wheel—yes.”
They went backseat.
The space was still tight, but at least it wasn’t as cramped—and the new angle meant Rhaenyra could actually breathe.
They knelt across from each other, Rhaenyra straddling her again as she settled back into Alicent’s lap with a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank the gods. I have bones again.”
Alicent chuckled, brushing sweaty hair from Rhaenyra’s forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re obsessed with me,” Rhaenyra shot back, smug even now.
“I'm not,” Alicent muttered, pulling her close again.
Rhaenyra rolled her hips once, slow and deliberate, and both of them groaned—louder this time, no dashboard to muffle the sound.
Rhaenyra moved her hips, tried to climb into her previous rhythm, straddling Alicent again, but Alicent caught her wrist—something had shifted in her. There was a look in her eyes, something darker, more certain. “No,” she said quietly. “Turn around.”
Rhaenyra froze, heat prickling up her spine. “What?”
“I want to try something else,” Alicent said, voice low, firm—but not unkind. She guided Rhaenyra gently, easing her to her hands and knees across the seat. Rhaenyra moved stiffly at first, unsure, her cheek brushing the window as she looked over her shoulder.
It was new. Strange. Vulnerable.
But then Alicent was behind her, hands on her hips, steadying her, whispering low things that made Rhaenyra’s breath catch. She leaned forward slightly, kissing the curve of Rhaenyra’s spine, the nape of her neck, a trail of reverence before she moved again.
The cold glass smeared under Rhaenyra’s cheek as her breath hit it again, fast and fogging. Her knees pressed awkwardly into the leather seat, unsteady, starting to ache—but her body didn’t care. Every nerve in her skin was tuned to the heat behind her. To the uneven rhythm of Alicent’s breath. To the way her hands gripped too hard, then let go like she didn’t trust herself.
Rhaenyra swallowed, lips parted, brain fogged.
This was clumsy. Messy. Honest.
And so real.
“Alicent,” she gasped, her voice small, teasing and wrecked.
Behind her, Alicent was shaking—hands trembling where they gripped her hips, blunt nails digging in for balance. Her voice cracked when she spoke: “You okay?”
Rhaenyra nodded, messy hair sticking to her skin. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—fuck, this is—”
Her breath hitched again as Alicent shifted closer, the hot press of her cock unmistakable now, thick and aching against her. Rhaenyra’s whole body jolted in response.
Alicent was trying to stay gentle. She was trying so hard not to lose herself in the feeling of Rhaenyra wrapped tight around her, rocking slightly, tempting. But her restraint was a thread, and Rhaenyra could feel it fraying.
Rhaenyra bit her lip, hips rolling back a little—just enough to make contact again, deliberate this time. A teasing grind that made Alicent curse under her breath.
“You’re losing it,” Rhaenyra whispered.
“I’m trying not to,” Alicent said, breathless.
“Then don’t.”
That did it.
Alicent pushed forward again—slow, but deeper this time, her cock stretching Rhaenyra more than she expected. The moan that tore out of her was helpless and honest. She dropped her forehead to the window, eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck,” she panted. “Alicent, just—don’t stop—”
Alicent groaned, one hand bracing against Rhaenyra’s lower back, the other curling possessively around her waist. Her rhythm stumbled, messy, but her grip stayed steady. She was overwhelmed.
She wasn’t used to this. Not the physicality of it—she’d had her share of messy nights—but this particular kind of bareness. Bent over like this, letting someone see her, touch her like this. And it was Alicent. Alicent. Proper, carefully-spoken, self-contained Alicent.
Rhaenyra’s moan had been soft at first—half-strangled by the window—but when it came again, raw and unguarded, it shattered the tension like glass.
“Alicent—”
The name broke from her lips like a prayer, high and shaking. And that was it.
Alicent’s grip on Rhaenyra’s hips tightened instinctively, her breath stalling in her throat. It hit her all at once—hot, unbearable, and too much to hold back. Her body jerked forward with a final, trembling thrust, and she let out a broken sound against Rhaenyra’s back, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades.
She didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to lose herself like that. But the second Rhaenyra cried out for her—her name, not a curse or a gasp but her—it undid something deep inside her.
Rhaenyra felt it. The tremble. The stutter in Alicent’s breath. The way she collapsed forward, still pressed tight against her, chest heaving.
A heavy silence followed, laced with something more than just physical release.
“Alicent?” Rhaenyra’s voice was quiet, tentative, lips still parted, trying to process what had just happened.
“I—” Alicent’s voice broke. She didn’t move. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to finish—like that. I just... when you said my name...”
Alicent finally moved, withdrawing carefully, as if afraid of breaking something. Her hands found Rhaenyra’s sides, helping her up with reverent gentleness.
Alicent was still behind her, half-dressed, breathing unevenly. She hadn’t said a word since—well. Since it happened.
Rhaenyra shifted carefully, wincing a little as she adjusted. She glanced over her shoulder, offering something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well,” she said, voice hoarse, “that was... definitely not in the student handbook.”
Alicent let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh—or the start of a spiral. Her hand went to her forehead, brushing damp hair back. “Gods,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t pull out.”
That got Rhaenyra to raise an eyebrow, even as her cheeks flushed. “Seriously?” she said, trying for dry amusement. “You’re giving me the ‘oops’ speech now?”
Alicent flushed all the way to her ears. “I just thought... I mean, we should probably go buy something. A Plan B or—something.”
Rhaenyra blinked at her, then let out a soft sound—part laugh, part disbelief. “Gods, you’re such a Hightower.” She leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a second. Then: “I have an IUD. You’re fine.”
The words hung there. A beat. Two.
Alicent looked like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “Right,” she murmured. “Okay. Good. That’s... good.”
Neither of them moved for a moment. The fog on the windows blurred everything outside into soft, watercolor smudges, and the interior of the car felt too warm, too close.
“I’m not mad,” Rhaenyra said, more quietly this time. “Just so you know.”
Alicent nodded, still not quite meeting her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d come that fast.”
“You didn’t,” Rhaenyra said. “Not really.” She turned, adjusting her seat, reaching for her shirt with fingers that still shook a little.