Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The streets of Winterfell's outer town were quiet, the crisp night air carrying the scent of woodsmoke and ale. The brothel stood as it always had—welcoming, warm, and filled with the laughter of men indulging in their pleasures.

As I pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of perfume, sweat, and candle wax filled my lungs.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw her.

Ros.

She stood near the bar, speaking to another woman, a slight smile on her lips as she laughed at something.

But then, she turned.

And the moment she saw me, her expression changed.

Her green eyes widened, lips parting slightly in surprise.

For a second, she just stared, as if she hadn't expected to ever see me again.

Then, slowly, that smirk I remembered so well curled onto her lips.

"Well, well," she murmured, crossing her arms beneath her chest, pushing up the swell of her breasts. "If it isn't my wandering sellsword."

I chuckled, stepping closer. "Did you miss me?"

She tilted her head, studying me. "You disappeared, thought you were just passing through."

"I was," I admitted. "But plans changed."

Her eyes flicked over me, as if assessing something. "You look different."

I smirked. "Do I?"

She stepped closer, dragging a single delicate finger down my chest.

"You do," she murmured, her voice low. "More confident. More… settled."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Perhaps I am."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the brothel around us—moans from the rooms above, laughter from drunk men at the bar, whispers between girls deciding which client to take next.

Then, I cut to the chase.

"How much?" I asked.

Ros blinked, then laughed softly.

"Straight to the point, then?" she teased. "No sweet words first?"

I smirked. "I doubt you'd believe them."

She grinned. "Clever man."

Then, her expression shifted, something unreadable passing through her gaze.

Her fingers trailed up my chest, to my jaw, her touch softer than before.

And then, she surprised me.

"No charge," she said simply. "Just pleasure me."

I raised a brow. "You work for free now?"

She smirked. "Only when I want to."

Her voice was sultry, teasing, but I could see something genuine beneath it.

She wanted me.

And that was all I needed to hear.

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her against me, capturing her lips in a hard, demanding kiss.

She gasped against my mouth, but quickly melted into it, her body pressing flush against mine.

Her hands tangled in my hair as she deepened the kiss, her breath hot, desperate.

I broke away just long enough to whisper against her lips, "Lead the way."

She didn't hesitate.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me upstairs.

The door to the room barely closed before I had her pinned against it.

Ros let out a soft laugh, her fingers gripping my tunic, pulling it over my head with practiced ease.

"Impatient, are we?" she teased.

I smirked, lifting her by her thighs and pressing her back against the wooden door.

"You have no idea," I murmured.

It had been months since I had last been with a woman.

Too long.

My body burned with hunger, with raw need.

Ros gasped as I devoured her neck, my lips trailing down her throat, teeth grazing her skin just enough to leave marks.

Her fingers dug into my shoulders, her legs wrapping around me tighter as she rolled her hips against mine.

"Gods," she breathed, "you feel like fire."

I didn't let up.

I carried her to the bed, dropping her onto the soft furs before climbing over her.

I tore off her dress, revealing flawless pale skin, her body soft yet toned beneath my touch.

Her breath hitched as my fingers traced her curves, my lips following their path as I explored every inch of her.

I wanted her breathless, needy, begging.

And judging by the way she arched into me, nails raking down my back, I was succeeding.

Ros had spent years pleasing men, but tonight?

Tonight, she would know what it felt like to be truly ravished.

I took my time, teasing her, making her writhe beneath me, drawing out every sound, every gasp, every moan.

She clutched the sheets, body trembling, voice breaking as she moaned, "Damon—please."

I growled in response, capturing her lips once more, swallowing her cries as I finally gave her what she wanted.

The night stretched on, filled with heat, sweat, and the sounds of raw pleasure.

Over and over, I claimed her, relentless, insatiable, drowning her in wave after wave of bliss.

By the time we finally collapsed onto the bed, her body was trembling, exhausted, completely spent.

She curled against me, her skin damp, her breathing unsteady.

I traced my fingers through her fiery red hair, smirking to myself.

She had been a welcome distraction.

But Sansa Stark still lingered in my mind.

One day, her red hair would be spread across my bed just like this.

One day, it would be her moaning my name.

But for now?

For now, I would enjoy the woman in my arms.