meryllfrey‌:

They finished their ales in record time, almost as if that was a competition as well. (And if it was, she won.) Meryll shrieked a little bit when he carried her a few steps, and after he placed her back on the ground she couldn’t help but sing a verse of The Bear and the Maiden Fair under her breath. 

The bear, the bear!
Lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!

I called for a knight, but you’re a bear!
A bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair

“I am no princess Bronn, and you’ll get no castle from me,” she said with a sly smile, following him out the door. The night was cool and she leaned into his warmth as they made their way back to the Red Keep. Nearing the gates, Meryll tucked her long hair under a cap and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. The guards at the gates recognized Bronn on sight and let them both in without any questions, just as Meryll was hoping. From there, it was just a short distance to the Hand’s Tower, where Bronn kept his room under the stairwell. Meryll led the way, knowing exactly where his room was (she may have even walked by it several times a day hoping to run into him). 

They didn’t quite make it all the way to Bronn’s chambers. As they walked down the deserted corridor of the Hand’s Tower, Meryll couldn’t resist pulling Bronn into a dark alcove and covering his mouth with hers. 

She pressed him back against the stone wall, and kissed him hungrily, her lips insistent on his, and her palms sliding over the hard wall of his chest.

A chuckle came past the sellswords lips as Meryll began drunkingly singing and he joined in finishing the song as they neared the keep and for a moment he wondered if the guards would catch on that it was Meryll that was accompanying him to the Hands Tower but they both were waved through, most likely thinking Bronn was bringing back some hussy to his bed.

He tried to make it to his chambers, let alone his door when Meryll pulled him in towards a small alcove and was pushed back against a wall and to his surprise he found her lips and hands on him hungrier than he would have expected them to be and he pressed his lips against hers harder and with more intensity than he had at the inn. A hand slipped to her back and pulled her against him wanting to feel her closeness and her warmth and both hands rested on her hips. Bronn was craving more from her, more than some dark kiss in some alcove and his lips moved down to her neck, planting kisses all around it and nipping at a few spots, below her ear and near some vital parts of her neck.

“You’re right, you are no Princess. You’re a bad girl, Meryll. Look at you, coming apart at a Sellswords touch.” He spoke, his voice rumbling as he nipped near her breasts, one hand moved to caresses them as his other hand began short work of what he had forgotten wasn’t a dress and he gave short lived frown as he began undoing her top and cloak and was attempting to do the same with her breeches which was a bit harder, having to have never taken breeches off anyone but himself. “Do you want us to get caught? Is the idea of getting caught here like this exciting?”