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The evening is silent and dark, the Moon only a sliver in the sky. Your breathing is even as you sleep, covered by furs and luxurious blankets. The evening and early night had been tiring, dancing and laughing, but you would not change any moment of it. Being in the arms of your husband, even if it is in a crowded tent filled with strangers, is the best thing you know of.
You jolt awake as Lyonel steps into the tent, swaying on his feet. The helm is askew in his head, the antlers catching a pitcher as he stumbles, knocking it to the ground. You blink blearily, his eyes gleaming drunkenly as he steps inside, spreading his arms wide.
“There you are, my darling.” He purrs, a grin warm on his face as he blinks, trying to chase the haziness in his eyes away. You did tell him, repeatedly and loudly, that you would be heading for bed. And he had begged you to say, repeatedly and loudly. But you’d refused, and simply pressed a kiss to his cheek. You'd left the tent, hearing him sing and dance with the other drunk lords and ladies, feasting with anyone else who wished to drink and be merry. You’d sighed as the silence of the night had washed over you, cool and gentle.
Yawning, you reach to light a few more candles, bringing a bit more light to the darkened tent. The bed shakes as Lyonel’s hand hastily grabs one of its posts when he struggles with his balance while ridding himself of his boots. When he finally manages to get them off, he chucks them away. One of them ends up knocking over a table with a chess set, sending the pieces flying. Some pieces land on the cape he has managed to rid himself of, too, now streaming down the back of a chair, the expensive fabric wrinkled.
You grasp him by his shoulders and gently guide him to sit on the edge of the bed, not wanting him to trash the whole tent. He allows you to guide him and sits with a huff, almost tumbling over to his side and off the bed, but you manage to catch him before he falls and possibly injures himself. The last thing you want is to search for the maester in the middle of the dark night.
“Let me.” You start with his leather doublet, unwinding the laces slowly, his strong chest stuttering as his breath hitches when your fingers brush against him. He can feel the warmth of your hands through the thin fabric. He stares up at you, breathtaking in the candlelight, casting gentle shadows atop your face. Your hair has fallen onto your face, and his hands itch to brush it back, but they are currently trapped in the doublet you are freeing him from. You move to set it aside on the bed, but Lyonel is quick to brush it to the floor, where it falls into a crumpled heap.
“You will not have anything to wear tomorrow if we let them get wrinkled.”
“I’ll have to be naked then,” he yawns, smacking his mouth with a smile, and you sigh with a roll of your eyes.
You tug at the golden cuffs on his wrists. You slide the metallic rings off one by one, the material warm with his body heat. As you unveil more skin for your eyes with each bracelet, your lips leave a trail of kisses on his wrists, tracing the veins traveling there, kissing past old scars and moles. His breath hitches as your lips linger on his skin, his eyes falling closed.
A dopey smile rises to Lyonel’s face, his head lolling to the side as your lips trace the seam of his neck and back. The helm slips off his head and clatters to the floor, but neither of you cares. His undershirt is off next, your fingers expertly undoing the few laces without difficulty, accompanying the rest of his clothes to the floor. He stares up at you, eyes bleary and adoring.
You lavish his revealed chest with kisses, following down the line of hair down his stomach to his hips, kissing the moles that litter his stomach here and there. He groans, your lips like warm honey on his skin, filling his already dizzyed head with flutters of… something. He cannot think or focus, your touch is overwhelming him, the wine in his veins roaring with heat.
Sleep calls to him, his eyes drooping as he now struggles with his pants. You slide your hands in between his, batting them away, expertly undoing the many buckles and belts, all the while you trail kisses over his chest and shoulders.
With your help, Lyonel manages to kick the fabric away, it too falling to a messy pile at the foot of the bed. Hoisting himself around, he grasps you and uses his weight to push you down to the mattress.
“Stay.” He groans, voice deep, managing a messy kiss, one that partly misses your lips. But you’ll take it.
“Of course.” You cup his jaw, rubbing the coarse hairs of his beard as you lean down to kiss him, fully, this time. Your arms return to his shoulders, brushing up his arms, tracing the dips of scars and muscle there.
Lyonel groans in contentment, reaching with his hands for your waist. They fumble around for a moment before they find your stomach and wind around your body, pulling you to his chest. He is snoring soon, hair a messy halo around his head, his earring glinting in the low light of the candles. You simply watch him for a while, a content smile on his face, deep in sleep.
The smoke from the candles rises in twists as you blow them out, settling down next to your husband. You brush his hair off his face and trace over the muscles and blemishes of his back, all so familiar from the nights and years past. You listen to his steady breathing, your fingers trailing patterns on his skin, following the path of moles like constellations until sleep claims you too.