Chapter Text
"Mmfuhh, Rhae..."
A low satisfied smile escapes Rhaenyra, curling the blonde’s lips as she purrs against Alicent, “Sweetheart.”
An indignant little whine is cut off by a sharp squeak as Rhaenyra presses her thigh further up between Alicent’s legs, burning through the brunette’s nerves. Pure heat pools between her legs as grinds down, desperately chasing relief.
The blonde watches on, drunk on the sight of her like this—naked, wanton and bound by her wrist as she rides Rhaenyra’s thigh toward her second climax tonight. The blonde tugs the tie, drawing Alicent closer until she is writhing atop, moaning brokenly in Rhaenyra’s ear as she stiffens her thigh and presses in deeper.
“Fuuuc– " Alicent breathes, her hips stuttering.
Rhaenyra's low chuckle reverberates in her throat, vibrating against Alicent’s skin as she trails her tongue up the column of Alicent’s neck and scrapes her teeth over her jaw. Alicent shudders, thighs clamping around Rhaenyra’s leg, her swollen clit dragging slick and aching over the muscle.
"Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart.” It’s not a question. “I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” Rhaenyra nips at Alicent’s chin, pulling her further into her orbit until Alicent’s hitching breath gusts against Rhaenyra’s lips. “You want to cum for me, don't you baby? Say it.”
Alicent gasps, hips jerking faster, messy and fracturing her rhythm as Rhaenyra’s words coil around her restraint. The silk slips from Rhaenyra’s grip, but she doesn’t need it—her hands lock onto Alicent’s waist, digging in, not guiding, just holding on as she fucks herself raw on her thigh. Rhaenyra knows when this is over the evidence of her touch will remain. Bruises, Alicent can trace as a reminder.
“- please " Alicent’s voice cracks, a sob tangled within.
Rhaenyra obeys.
Pushing up and capturing Alicent’s mouth, tongue sliding deep as her hands slide down to cup her perfect ass, gripping the flesh, kneading and dragging her harder against her thigh. Alicent moans spill out of her uncontrollably, her body frantic until she goes still and a shaky curse falls from her lips.
"That’s it, baby," Rhaenyra encourages, voice rough with her own tension coiling low in her stomach. "Cum all over me."
Alicent shatters.
Broken cries fill the room as she convulses, body trembling, pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure wrecks her, and Rhaenyra murmurs filth in her ear to drag it out longer. “Good girl – you're so perfect – all mine.” Until, Alicent collapses in a boneless heap against her.
"Rhae..." Alicent’s voice is raw, her chest heaving and Rhaenyra hums, content, pressing a kiss to the skin where shoulder meets neck, teasing Alicent’s pulse. She slides Alicent’s arms from around her and frees the silk tie from her wrist. Alicent groans, flexing her fingers as the blood starts to rush back.
Before she can fully recover, Rhaenyra guides her hands down to the waistband of her underwear and over the damp fabric at her center. “You feel what you do to me, baby?” Her words are breathless as Alicent’s touch lingers. “How wet you make me.”
Alicent moans at the wet heat just beyond her actual touch but Rhaenyra doesn't make it easier finding Alicent’s clit with the tip of her thumb, and applying just the slightest pressure.
"I never said you could relax," Rhaenyra nips at her ear. "You got me this worked up, baby.” she teased, sliding her thumb away and replacing it with the pads of her fingers, building the pressure back and Alicent's hips followed suit. “So, I'm going to ruin you."
Just as Alicent has ruined her for the past year.
One Year Ago, 2024
The bar is too loud, the air thick with the scent of spilled beer and too many bodies in the dim light.
Alicent hates it.
Places like this— chaotic— instead of the quiet sanctuary of her library or the calmness of her apartment but Laena had begged.
"Just one drink," she’d said. " You never let loose."
Now, one glass of red wine in and Laena and Harwin are sevens knows where, Alicent regrets every decision that has led her here.
She adjusts her glasses, the frames slipping slightly from the humidity clinging to her skin as she leans against the bar, waiting for the bartender’s return. Her pencil skirt is too tight for the vinyl stool and her blouse wrinkled from the jostling crowd. Around her, people order drinks with practiced ease, laughing into each other’s spaces like they belong. Alicent sips her wine, watching them over the rim of her glass. Were they all performing, too? Or was she the only one who felt like an imposter in her own skin?
She should leave.
She is leaving—after one more drink while she waits for her Lyft.
When she spots her.
A woman—no, a force —lounging at the other end of the bar, one boot propped on the rail. Her cropped white-blonde hair lay tousled like she’s run her hands through it one too many times, wearing a devilish grin, crooked in a way that makes Alicent’s stomach flip.
And those arms— sevens , her arms. Corded with lean muscle, tattoos winding over pale skin like ink on parchment. A botanical piece curled around one forearm, thorns and leaves intertwined, while the other bore scattered designs: a geometric dragon coils around her wrist, its tail fading into the crease of her elbow. The maroon ribbed tank she wears clings to her frame, the sleeves cut high to showcase the art, demanding attention.
Alicent tries to look away—
But she’s stuck.
And it’s too late.
The woman’s gaze has locked onto hers, sharp and intense; her mesmerizing smirk deepens curving the edges like she’s already won. And —
Oh no.
She pushes off the bar, weaving through the crowd with effortless cool with Alicent in her line of sight.
Alicent’s fingers tighten around her glass.
"Hey." The woman’s voice is rough, edged with a low timbre that cuts through the noise. "You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here."
Alicent blinks. "Am I that obvious?"
Her laugh is warm, and Alicent traitorous eyes flick to her arms again as she leans an elbow beside her. "Only to people who are also thinking about making a break for it." She extends a hand. "Rhae."
Alicent hesitates, then takes it. Rhaenyra's palm is calloused, her grip firm. "Alicent."
"Alicent," Rhaenyra repeats, savoring the syllables as if tasting them. "Beautiful."
Alicent cheeks burn. "...Thanks. Y-Yours too."
Rhaenyra’s grin widens, letting go only when she slides into the vacant seat beside the brunette. Her knee to the side of Alicent’s thigh. "Thanks. It’s short for something pretentious, but I’ll save that for our second date."
Alicent nearly chokes on her drink. Second date?
Rhaenyra’s grin turns predatory, she reaches out and brushes her thumb along the corner of Alicent’s lip where a drop of wine lingers. "You’ve got a little—."
Alicent’s breath catches.
Rhaenyra lets the pad of her thumb linger just a moment longer, her gaze dropping to Alicent’s mouth as she murmurs, "so," and leans in just close enough, Alicent can smell the scent of leather and something faintly metallic—oil, maybe on her skin. "Can I buy you another drink? Or are you still plotting your escape?"
Alicent should say no. She should pull back and make an excuse about early mornings or deadlines but as she prepares herself to do so, the lie dies on her tongue and faux bravery allows her to meet Rhaenyra’s gaze. "Are you any good at conversation?"
Rhaenyra’s laugh is abrupt, dangerous. "Sweetheart,” she purrs, “I’m good at a lot of things."
And suddenly Alicent’s quiet night—her quiet life—is irrevocably changed.
The lights in the bar cast Rhaenyra in a halo of red, her pale skin like marble under its haze, softening her sharp features just enough to make Alicent’s throat go dry.
"And should I trust the words of a woman who clearly judges books by their adaptations?"
Rhaenyra grins, unbothered, swirling the draft beer in her glass lazily. The ice clinks, a quiet percussion beneath the hum of the bar as she admits, "Guilty. But in my defense, some movies are eons better."
Alicent can’t help but lean forward, elbows now resting next to Rhaenyra on the polished wood, challenging. "Name one."
"The Secret History."
Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise.
Seizing her moment of triumph, Rhaenyra leans in closer to Alicent, her breath husky in the brunette's ear. "What? You didn’t peg me as the Donna Tartt type?"
Alicent turns her head, her gaze meets Rhaenyra's up close, and it stills the air in her lungs. Her eyes can see every freckle doting her nose, and the faded scar just above her eyebrow. She even notices the faint smear of grease on the outside of her jaw. Her fingers twitch with the urge to touch.
"No," she says, voice softer than she means it to be. "I didn’t."
Rhaenyra licks her lips, biting the corner as she pulls back just enough to make Alicent ache. "That’s the fun part about people, sweetheart. We can be full of surprises."
Alicent swallows hard. Rhaenyra’s gaze is heavy, deliberate, and the way she looks at her feels like she’s being undressed. It sends a shiver down Alicent’s spine.
“A-And Henry?” Alicent manages, scrambling for composure.
“Henry?”
“From the movie, what did you think of him?”
Rhaenyra’s eyes light up as she finally falls back in her seat, allowing Alicent room to breathe.
"Cold as fuck. The kind of guy who’d ruin your life and make you thank him for it."
Alicent wonders if Rhaenyra was sent here to ruin hers.
“You don't agree?”
Alicent shakes her head, “No, that’s actually—"
"Accurate?"
"Disturbingly so."
Rhaenyra shrugs, tapping her fingers in an absent rhythm against the bar. "I like complicated characters. People who aren’t just black or white but… live in the gray. Messy." Her smile turns playful. “Like me.”
Alicent’s chest tightens, the heat in Rhaenyra’s gaze unmistakable. "I - That's why I love the book. Tartt writes them like you’re in their world even when you know you shouldn’t be."
The heat in Rhaenyra’s eyes intensifies. “I like the way you talk about books. Like they’re alive."
Alicent flushes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Rhaenyra tilts her head to the side, voice dropping, her stare unwavering, "if you love them that much, that’s all that matters."
The noise of the bar fades around them and so does the crowd, their nameless faces blurring like static. Alicent can’t remember the last time someone listened to her like this—really listened – not just tolerating her as they bid their time.
Bzzt. Shatters the moment as Rhaenyra’s phone vibrates on the bar, she sighs, glancing at the screen.
"Shit. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. Some rich asshole’s vintage Porsche won’t start. Apparently, that counts as a crisis."
Alicent nods, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment she feels. "It's okay. Duty calls."
Rhaenyra looks up from her phone, making a quick decision, she slides her phone toward Alicent. "Put your number in." Alicent blinks, her brown eyes magnified under the lens of her glasses. "Please don't make me leave this up to fate. Or, seven forbid, algorithms because I’d really like to see you again, sweetheart."
Alicent takes the phone, her fingers brushing Rhaenyra's and her stomach tightens, hands steady despite the constant hammering she feels in her stomach.
"Y-Yeah, and you can text me your hot takes on The Goldfinch." She tries teasing.
Rhaenyra groans, smiling as she tilts her head back. "Oh, I have homework now?"
"Consider it research."
Rhaenyra laughs, shaking her head as she stands. "C’mon. I’ve held you up long enough. Can I wait with you for your Lyft?"
The night air is cool against Alicent's flushed skin and the streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, painting them in bright light in an otherwise starless sky.
"You sure you don’t want a ride?" Rhaenyra asks, nodding toward her bike, a sleek black cruiser that looks just as rugged and well-loved as its owner.
Alicent bites her lip. Tempting. And even more tempting as Rhaenyra's dark eyes stare down at her from their few inches in height difference. All heat and promise. But— "I think I’d better not. Not tonight."
Rhaenyra studies her, then nods. "Fair enough." She says with no pressure in her voice, no disappointment, only quiet understanding and that infuriating knowing glance.
When the Lyft pulls up, Alicent is reluctant to leave.
Rhaenyra grins, tilting her head towards the waiting sedan. "Go on, before I change my mind and do something weird, like kidnap you."
Alicent steps closer without thinking. "You’d have to catch me first."
Rhaenyra hums, delighted at Alicent’s bold move. Slowly, deliberately, she closes the distance between them, crowding Alicent’s space. Her gaze drops to Alicent’s lips, then back up, dark with intent. "Sweetheart," she murmurs, hooking her pinky with Alicent’s in a fleeting touch. "Trust me. I always catch what I want."
Then lets her go, stepping back with a wink. "Text you tomorrow."
And as the car pulls away, Alicent watches Rhaenyra from the back window. Her lean confident silhouette sharp under the streetlights, her stare burning even as the distance grew.
The ride home is a blur of lights and anticipation of possibilities. Alicent leans her head against the window, replaying everything —Rhaenyra’s rough laugh, her touch, the heat in her gaze making it clear, " I have no problem catching what I want."
Her phone buzzes in her purse, snapping her out of her reverie. She pulls it out to see a string of frantic messages from Laena. I SAW YOU. You were talking to that 🔥hottie🔥for hours. I DIDN'T WANT TO INTERRUPT! PLEASE TELL ME YOU GOT HER NUMBER???Did you go home with her?? ALI! ANSWER ME!!!
Alicent bites back a laugh, her fingers flying over the screen. Calm down. Yes, I got her number. No, I’m not going home with her. I’m in a Lyft. Alone. (sorry I forgot to tell you I was heading out I got distracted)
The response is immediate: HELL YEAH YOU DID! And that’s smart. Build the suspense. I could tell she wanted to rip your clothes off and bend you over the bar from across the room. Imagine how nasty the sex is going to be when you finally let her!!! what’s her deal? she looks like she could bench press you (and we both know how much you're into that 💦💦💦)
Alicent rolls her eyes but can’t stop the laugh from escaping her chest. She’s interesting. We talked about The Secret History though she’s more prone to the movie.
Laena replies back instantly: so she’s fucking hot and cultured??? You’re doomed.
The next morning, Alicent stirs to sunlight streaming in through her curtains, golden sun rays color across warm tones and hardwood of her bedroom slowly waking her up. She stretches beneath the sheets, body humming at the memory of last night and a very handsome blonde with striking blue eyes, and a smoky voice she swears she can still feel against her skin.
Her phone mocks her from the nightstand, lying face down while it charges, urging her to check with half-hope, half-dread of what could be waiting -
Emails.
And a missed call from her brother.
She drops the phone beside her, and digs her palms into her eyes, sighing.
Of course there’s nothing yet, she tells herself rolling onto her back. It’s barely noon. Rhae has a life .
But the waiting feels heavy.
So, she forces herself out of bed, busying herself with coffee—black except for the astronomical amount of agave she pours in and the methodical routine of breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast with a smear of jam. She chews slowly, resisting the urge to check her phone every few minutes.
When the notification finally comes in, it’s not just a text.
It’s a picture.
Rhaenyra has sent a photo of The Goldfinch propped open on what looks like a workbench, a gear-wrench lays across the pages like a bookmark. The caption reads: Look what you made me do. Haven’t read anything longer than a repair manual in years. Pray for me.
Alicent presses her fingers to her lips as if to trap the smile from spreading when her phone buzzes again.
or, you know, feel free to drop by and explain the big words 😉
A breath escapes her, uneven, as she traces the words, committing them to memory. The weight of her phone suddenly feels precious, like holding a secret too delicate to name. She types, deletes, types again before hitting send. I can't believe you actually bought it. Should I send you a study guide? Flashcards, maybe?
Rhaenyra’s reply is instant. Only if you quiz me in person. I’ll even let you use a red pen.
Alicent’s stomach flips.
I’m a librarian—I don’t do red pens. Too authoritarian.
Rhaenyra replies with a winking gif, followed by: guess I’ll have to misbehave to get your attention then.
Alicent’s breath catches, hesitating for only a second before her fingers grow a mind of their own. You already have it.
The second she hits send, she wants to snatch it back. It's too honest, too soon but Rhaenyra erases all her doubts. Good. Now tell me … hypothetically speaking, how many chapters do I have to read before I can take you to dinner?
The FaceTime calls start innocently enough—just quick check-ins after Rhaenyra finishes a long shift at the garage, grease still smudged along her jaw and her short hair sticks up in every direction. She looks into the screen directly at Alicent with a soft smile, content with just looking at her curled into her favorite armchair, glasses perched on her nose with a book laying half-forgotten in her lap as Rhaenyra rambles about diagnosing an engine problem that turned out to be, “some idiot putting diesel instead of regular gas in his car, sweetheart. I swear to Seven."
But then one call stretches into two.
"So, let me guess," Rhaenyra says one night sprawled on her couch across town, holding the phone over her face. "You became a librarian because you really liked shushing people?"
Alicent rolls her eyes, smirking into her phone as she moves across her kitchen putting away the last of her dishes from dinner and Tupperware from her work lunch. "Not exactly. When I was seven, my mother took me to the library for the first time and it was like,” she shrugs, almost too shy to admit the truth out loud, “the only place in the world where no one expected me to be anything but quiet. Me. Essentially."
Rhaenyra's smile softens. "That… makes sense."
Alicent hides, turning away from her phone briefly to store her lunchbox in the pantry, suddenly self-conscious.
"I didn't really think much of it at the time, I just knew every story I read felt like magic, like worlds I could step into and live in and I never wanted to leave.” Alicent reminisces with a fond smile, turning back to Rhaenyra on her screen. “And as I got older the library kind of just felt right, like a second home almost. Dr. Stark, the branch manager back home, gave me the rundown on what it takes while I was applying for colleges and well, here I am."
Rhaenyra sits up, pressing her back against the red leather of her couch, studying Alicent until she comes to a conclusion. "And now you get to live there."
"Yeah," Alicent admits, shyly. “But, um, you - what about you? Was it always your dream to be a mechanic?
Rhaenyra chuckles, laying back down and tucking one arm behind her head to support her neck, the other still holding the phone overhead so Alicent gets a bird's eye view down to her spectacular shoulders.
"Nothing as beautiful as your revelations. I genuinely sucked at school. Everyone kept telling me I just needed to apply myself, but nothing seemed to click until my lacrosse coach suggested I sign up for one of the trades offered at my school to help bring my GPA up. Turns out, I just needed to work with my hands for things to start clicking. I took apart my first engine that semester—nothing ever made sense until then. There was no BS or outside probabilities, either the car would run, or it wouldn't."
Alicent smiles leaning forward on the counter, tucking her hand under her chin. “You were wrong, you know.”
A crease forms in the middle of Rhaenyra’s brows, confused.
"That was very beautiful … and oddly poetic."
Rhaenyra’s laughter bounces out of her chest. "Thanks, sweetheart. Who knew a goddamn philosopher lived inside of me this whole time?"
Nights turn into weeks, and without fail, 'RHAE' lights up Alicent’s screen and suddenly, the quiet of her apartment doesn't feel so massive.
"I have a confession," Alicent mutters one night, just as she finishes her nighttime routine, settling under the covers, her tv on mute in the background. “But you can't judge.”
Rhaenyra laughs preemptively, intrigued. The sound filling up the empty garage. "Oh, please do tell."
Alicent taps her screen, flipping the camera on her phone to display The Real Housewives of Pentos arguing over dinner (as per usual). "I… watch trashy reality TV. And I kind of love it."
This time when Rhaemyra laughs, she has to walk off screen to catch her breath, peeking back in the shot with watery blue eyes. "Seriously? I didn't even think you owned a TV let alone used it."
"It helps," Alicent's face reddens, falling back onto the mountain of pillows behind her, turning to her side and taking Rhaenyra with her; she flips the camera back to herself. "I could never be so brazen and after a long day of being me … it’s cathartic, watching someone scream about nonsense sometimes."
Rhaenyra gets this look in her eyes that Alicent hasn't been able to quite decipher just yet before humming, then picks up her phone. Alicent can tell she’s being carried across the garage as Rhaeynyra passes a line of cars before coming to a stop and places the phone (and Alicent) down. “Well, sweetheart, since you shared with me. I guess, I’ll show you mine.”
Her arm moves out of the line of sight for a moment but seconds later, Alicent can hear the growing sounds of music coming through her phone’s speaker. Barry Gibbs' melodic voice croones through the shop floor and Alicent’s bedroom simultaneously.
Alicent tucks her face in her hand, hiding her grin. "Big fan of the BeeGees?"
“You know it,” Rhaenyra’s cheeks burn, but she doesn’t turn it off, doesn’t hide. "But not just them, Donna Summer, KC and the SunShine Band, CHIC, the groovier the better baby."
"You," Alicent says slowly, "continue to surprise me."
Rhaenyra turns the music down slightly so Alicent can hear her. “Disco’s the greatest thing to ever happen to music, and don't you forget it.” She winks, “plus … I'm a fan of things with good rhythm." Her eyes flick to Alicent’s, heavy with meaning. "In all forms."
Alicent gulps.
The calls grow longer after that. Most nights, Rhaenyra stays on until Alicent can't keep her eyes open and others, they’re just on the other line while Rhaenyra closes shop or Alicent finalizes grant proposals, comfortable in each other's silence.
Then one day Rhaenyra doesn’t call, and Alicent tries not to stare at her phone, tries not to overthink.
At midnight, her screen lights up not with a FaceTime, but a text. You busy Saturday?
Alicent’s pulse jumps. Depends. Why?
Rhaenyra’s reply comes fast: There’s this bookshop downtown. Heard they’ve got a first edition of something pretentious you might like. Thought I’d take you. Then dinner. If you’re into that sort of thing.
Alicent bites her lip.
Is this a date?
A pause —
Only if you say yes.
Alicent doesn’t hesitate: Yes.
Rhaenyra’s response comes in the form of a single emoji: 🥰