Chapter Eighteen: Satisfying the Hunger

Thomas cut through the shadows of King's Landing, his steps heavy, each one carrying the weight of a need that never seemed to dull. The city's noise was a faint murmur behind him, the night swallowing the sounds of distant shouts and clinking mugs. He moved with purpose, drawn to the brothel like a moth to flame, the familiar pull of it gnawing at his insides. The doors opened easily, spilling dim light and the scent of sweat, wine, and sex into the narrow street.

Inside, the air was thick, the low hum of voices blending with the soft moans from behind closed doors. Thomas made his way through the haze, ignoring the eyes that trailed after him. The matron stood near the back, watching him with that familiar knowing look. She didn't bother with pleasantries; she knew what he was after.

"Got anyone new?" Thomas's voice was rough, straight to the point.

She jerked her chin toward the corner, where a redhead lounged on a velvet chair, her legs crossed, her eyes sharp. Ros. She had that northern look about her—pale skin, eyes like cold green glass, and a body that was all curves and confidence. She looked up as Thomas approached, meeting his stare without flinching, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her lips.

He led her to the back room, the door clicking shut behind them. No small talk, no wasted time. Ros sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze tracking his every move as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. She leaned back, watching him, her expression half-amused, half-hungry. Thomas stepped closer, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, rough and purposeful.

"What made you leave the North?" His question was blunt, but his eyes were already moving over her, taking in the way her dress clung to her hips, how her breasts rose and fell with every breath.

Ros shrugged, her fingers curling into the sheets as she leaned back, letting him look. "There's no work for a girl like me up there," she said, her voice low, edged with a hint of something teasing. "Down here, I can get paid and not be judged for it."

Thomas didn't waste time with more questions. He was on her, his mouth finding hers, teeth clashing in a kiss that was all heat and need. He shoved her dress up, his hands rough as he pulled it over her head, exposing pale skin and a thin sheen of sweat. Ros arched up against him, her body eager, hips grinding against his with a slow, deliberate rhythm that pulled a low growl from his throat.

Thomas gripped her thighs, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself between them. She was warm, wet, and ready, and he didn't bother with finesse—just drove into her, hard and fast. Ros gasped, her head falling back against the pillow as he fucked her with a relentless pace, each thrust meeting her body with a slap that filled the room. 

She moaned, a breathy sound that came out in short, sharp bursts as she clawed at his back, her nails scraping down his skin. Thomas grunted, his breath coming in ragged huffs as he drove deeper, feeling the way she clenched around him, her body squeezing tight, drawing him in with every thrust.

Ros bucked against him, her legs locking around his waist, pulling him closer, harder, her gasps turning into loud, filthy moans that bounced off the walls. Thomas didn't let up, pushing her down, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her, the bed creaking under their combined weight. The sound of their bodies slapping together was wet, raw, punctuated by the rhythmic groans that escaped both their lips.

Ros's hands tangled in his hair, yanking him down as she bit his shoulder, her teeth sinking in just enough to leave a mark. She whispered curses against his skin, her words broken by the force of his thrusts. Thomas grabbed her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck as he bit down, hard enough to make her yelp, then shoved his tongue against hers in a messy, heated kiss.

She clawed at him, her hips meeting his with every thrust, their movements synced in a rhythm that was pure, desperate need. Thomas's pace quickened, each slam of his hips sending jolts through both of them, the wet, slick sounds filling the room as he chased his own release. Ros's cries grew louder, more frantic, her legs tightening around him as she came, shuddering beneath him, her breath catching in her throat.

Thomas felt her tighten, her body convulsing as she rode out her climax, and he followed moments later, his own release tearing through him in sharp, urgent waves. He buried himself deep, holding her in place as he came, their bodies pressed together, slick with sweat and exhaustion.

They lay tangled in the sheets, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. Ros's fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, her touch softer now, almost affectionate in the afterglow. Thomas pulled away, his movements slow, his mind already drifting back to the familiar ache, the need that never truly left.

Ros watched him dress, her eyes following his every movement, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. There was no need for words between them—they both understood what this was. Thomas stepped out into the cool night, the air sharp against his heated skin, and felt the familiar hunger stir, ready to pull him back under.

Thomas pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the cool air hit his skin, but the satisfaction hadn't settled—it still itched under his flesh, a restless urge that hadn't been scratched deep enough. He glanced back at Ros, sprawled on the bed, her chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of spent desire. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, wild and tangled, her lips parted as she caught her breath. She was watching him, eyes still sharp, with a glint of amusement like she'd known he'd be back even before he did.

He hesitated at the door, fingers tracing the rough wood, the weight of that lingering need dragging him back. Ros smirked, shifting on the bed, one knee drawing up to expose the slick mess between her thighs, a silent invitation. She arched her back, stretching out languidly, her breasts lifting, nipples still stiff and dark against her pale skin, and he could see that she was just as restless, just as wanting.

Thomas's shirt hit the floor with a dull thud. He was on her again, this time rougher, grabbing her by the hips and flipping her onto her stomach, spreading her wide as she let out a low, pleased hum, the sound vibrating through her chest. His hands gripped her ass, fingers digging in as he guided himself into her, thrusting in deep from behind. Ros pushed back, her body meeting his with an eager roll of her hips, each movement pushing him deeper, her moans muffled as she buried her face in the sheets.

His rhythm was relentless, every thrust a sharp slap of flesh on flesh, echoing through the room in a steady beat. Ros braced herself on her elbows, arching her back to take him fully, her breath coming out in ragged, broken gasps. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, his teeth grazing the curve of her shoulder before biting down hard enough to draw a sharp gasp. She liked it, the rougher he got, the more she pushed into it, her nails clawing at the sheets, hips moving in a grinding, filthy rhythm that made the bed creak and groan beneath them.

Thomas pulled out suddenly, flipping her onto her back, and Ros's laugh was breathy and eager, eyes gleaming with a wild kind of joy. He lifted her legs, hooking her ankles over his shoulders, and drove into her hard, his cock stretching her open, hitting deep. Ros's moans turned into high, needy cries, her nails raking down his arms, leaving red trails that burned. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, the soft flesh jiggling as he pounded into her, his hands sliding up to squeeze, his thumbs flicking over her nipples as she arched off the bed.

She hooked her legs tighter around his neck, pulling him closer, her hips grinding up to meet his thrusts. The wet, sloppy sounds of their fucking filled the room, mingling with the heavy, desperate pants that spilled from their lips. Thomas didn't hold back, the raw need driving him to take her again and again, each angle different, each movement pushing them both closer to that edge they couldn't quite reach.

Ros's hands found his face, pulling him down for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues tangling as he fucked into her, his pace quickening. Her thighs squeezed around his head, her moans vibrating against his mouth, the taste of sweat and salt and something sweeter mixing on his tongue. Thomas's grip tightened on her hips, pulling her up, her ass barely touching the bed as he drove into her, his strokes erratic, hard, desperate. 

She came again, her body shuddering under him, her cries high and sharp, and Thomas didn't stop, pushing through her orgasm, feeling her clench tight around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his relentless thrusts. Ros rode it out, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a silent scream, her hips jerking with every thrust, her body slick and glowing in the low light.

They shifted again, never quite satisfied, Ros on top this time, grinding down on him, her nails digging into his chest as she bounced, the wet slap of their bodies meeting over and over filling the room. She moved with a fierce, hungry rhythm, her breath hitching every time she sank down, taking him deep, her ass smacking against his thighs. Thomas's hands roamed her body, squeezing her breasts, sliding down to her waist, guiding her movements as she rode him, each bounce sending jolts of raw pleasure through both of them.

Ros leaned back, her hair spilling down her back, her body arching beautifully as she ground her clit against his pelvis, finding that perfect spot that made her moan loud and shameless. Thomas grabbed her hips, thrusting up into her, his own breath ragged, matching her rhythm until she was trembling, her body jerking with every movement. Her eyes rolled back, her lips forming silent curses, her thighs quivering as she reached her peak, and Thomas felt her convulse around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

They didn't stop. Ros grinned, her breath coming fast, and rolled off him, guiding him to sit against the headboard. She straddled him again, this time facing away, her back pressing against his chest as she lowered herself onto his cock, her ass grinding against his hips. Thomas's hands slid around to her front, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing in circles as she moved, her breaths turning to gasps and stuttered moans as she fucked herself on him. 

She rocked her hips, slow and torturous, her wetness coating him, each movement pushing him deeper as he played with her, his fingers working her clit, teasing and tormenting. Ros's head fell back against his shoulder, her mouth open, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the sensation, her breath coming in hot, rapid bursts against his ear.

Morning crept in, soft light filtering through the cracks in the shutters, but they didn't slow. Ros shifted one last time, her body exhausted but still hungry, laying him back and taking him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue swirling over the tip. She sucked him slowly, taking him deep, her eyes locked on his, watching every twitch of his muscles, every stutter of his breath. Thomas groaned, his fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her, needing that last bit of release.

Ros worked him with her mouth, her tongue flicking, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm, the wet sounds filling the room as she took him deeper, faster, until his grip tightened, his hips bucking up as he came, spilling into her mouth. She swallowed eagerly, milking him for every drop, her moans vibrating around his cock, making the pleasure drag out, intense and aching.

Thomas lay back, spent, his chest heaving as Ros wiped her mouth, a satisfied smile on her lips. She crawled up beside him, her body collapsing against his, slick with sweat and exhaustion but humming with that lingering high. The room was a mess of tangled sheets, damp skin, and the heavy scent of sex, the morning light casting everything in a soft, golden glow. Ros pressed a lazy kiss to his shoulder, her breath warm, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest, and Thomas knew he'd be back, that the hunger would always pull him here, no matter how much he took.