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All Rhaenys is aware of is the sword's blade, lightly grazing against the pale flesh of her stomach; if she isn't careful, it'd gut her. That and the shaking, trembling breathing escaping from Visenya's lips. She hasn't even properly inserted the thing, and her older sister is a mess.
Her purple eyes look up, fingers tight against the hilt.
"What?" Visenya rasps. She's on the edge of their bed, and the only person missing is Aegon. Perhaps her sister wanted it this way. She was rather flustered when she approached Rhaenys, chewing on the inside of her cheek, muttering it; in fact, she had muttered it so much that Rhaenys had to force her to say it louder.
Rhaenys says nothing about that. About the embarrassment that transpired when the sun was high. Inside, the moon is present, and she's doing this. "Nothing," she says. "Admiring you."
Dark Sister, at least, the hilt of Dark Sister, is pressed against Visenya's clit, unmoving, glistening with her juices. She's been teasing her like this, mostly to work her up to the feeling, but because she hardly gets to do things like this. She's a good sister, even when Visenya has said, through gritted teeth, to just fuck her with it already.
Gods, she had said, you are as bad as Aegon. You two hate me, I am convinced. Both of you love to fucking tease.
That's why she stopped, to drag it out.
And this is where they are now. Rhaenys shifts the blade away, wrist beginning to twinge, when Rhaenys adjusts, Visenya shudders, bucks up, Rhaenys thinks she's doing well, then..
Rhaenys should get on with it before Visenya wrenches it away from her to do it herself.
It sends a jolt down her thighs just imagining that. The slick on her thighs is growing more noticeable. Her knees shift. Slowly, she inserts it, like she would a cock. Visenya clenches every muscle, every nerve, and throws her head back like she would when she rode Vhagar. Or Aegon, for that matter. "Fuck, Gods, Rhaenys," Visenya scrambles.
"Is it good?" Rhaenys whispers, her voice trembling.
Her sister grabs a fistful of her hair, forcing her up. It makes her lose mild control of her actions and fuck the sword a bit deeper in her. "Rhae."
If she were to respond proper, she wouldn't know what would've been said. The words must've died in her throat.
Rhaenys can't stop the aching in her stomach, the arousal that throbs, in, out, in, out. A gaping, empty sensation, as she's looking into the eyes of the very sister she's fucking. With trembling hands, she fucks the sword against her.
The noises are inhuman, like those of a dragon, and she must remember Visenya is a dragon, Rhaenys is, too; they are the house of the dragon, after all, but the effect it has. The effect she's having? Rhaenys has to put her heel against her core. The sitting position was odd, to say the least, and her knees are going to rebel later. But this is now.
Now is where she gets to fuck her sister with her sword. Where Visenya whines, babbles in High Valyrian, bucking against the hilt, against the part she's almost swallowed whole. And Rhaenys fucks her, Rhaenys fucks her because, well, simply that. Because. Her grasp lowers against the blade, tight, but gentle enough so she doesn't nick herself. The cool material radiates against the warmth of her palm, and she must wonder if this is how it felt for Visenya, being inserted in. If she shivered from the coolness and not the pleasure.
Or maybe both.
Visenya's hands are iron tight against her hair, her nails digging into the edges of her scalp, where pain shoots in together with pleasure, where she does moan herself when she digs her heel deeper against her cunt, a sensation that does nothing but make her want more. She's leaking, too, making a mess of herself.
A nudge up, deeper, almost. Visenya's eyes open, glassy. "Ñuha mandia," she begins. "You don't know what you do to me. My glorious wife,"
That's enough to make Rhaenys fuck it deeper, uncoordinated, into her, her head suddenly fuzzy with the mention of being Visenya's wife. Rhaenys whimpers, matching with Visenya, and has to blink multiple times so her vision doesn't completely tunnel. "I could fuck you next with her," Visenya says, her breathing uneven in small gasps. "Would you like that? Would you like to experience it, too?"
"Yes, yes, Visenya," Rhaenys whines. "Gods, yes."
"Yes, sister? You would like Dark Sister in your cunt?"
Rhaenys has to nod, the words dying in her throat, strangled against her. It's a miracle how the blade hasn't cut, yet. How it hasn't sliced her open and let her blood spill against her. "Fuck, Rhaenys,"
It's more about wanting to be fucked with the sword than fucking Visenya with the sword, she realizes. And she can understand the appeal. Seeing her all contorted up in a sick, sadistic, like pleasure, that makes her insane.
"I'm close, Rhaenys," Visenya says, no, commands, her voice like she had submerged herself underwater, the blood rushing in her ears, her heart beating like a jackrabbit on an adrenaline-filled flight with Meleys.
It's a personal mission to make her come, a mission she succeeds with record speed, record time, actually, because it doesn't take long for Visenya to make her scalp yell, her hair aching. Rhaenys whines when her sister comes, when she sees her fall apart, when she's so desperate to do the same thing herself. Her eyes watch, entrapped.
It's one of the most magical things Rhaenys has witnessed as she continues to fuck the sword in her. Rhaenys removes the sword, heart pounding at the slick it leaves behind, connecting briefly, and lets it rest against her sister's trembling knee.
"Up," Visenya goes. "I want to see you fall apart because of me, of her."
Rhaenys obliges, all teary-eyed, excited.