cowt 12 sett 4-2 M1: temptations (got, tyrion/bronn, sexual content)

[janie_tangerine]

 

It’s not like he’s not grateful every other day for having this job while not rotting in jail instead – sure as hell having a second shot at being Hand of the King was not how Tyrion thought things would end.

If only the part where he has to pen each single raven Bran will have to sign after wasn’t so dreadfully boring and tedious, but as it’s part of his duties and he’s not going to shrink them, so – right.

He puts away the raven that has to go to Dorne, then moves on to the one for Pyke – thankfully it’s nothing of import, and then he just has the one for the Eyrie, and then – right. Then one for the North, but he has to consult with Bran in order to pen that one, and he doesn’t particularly relish the fact since they barely get replies from there these days and it’s really not ideal, but needs must. He’ll worry about that later.

So, Pyke. He grabs a fresh sheet of paper, inks his quill again, places the tip on the parchment, ready to address –

“Are you still holed up here with that nonsense?”

He sighs and puts away the quill.

“Bronn,” he says, “yes, because it’s my duty, and should I remind you –”

“As if I already didn’t talk to that envoy from Braavos and finished the deal without all your fancy correspondence.”

He already did?

“Well, good to know that I chose right when it came to giving you that job, now can you please let me finish? I have another one to –”

“Or,” Bronn says, moving towards his desk and putting away the parchment, ink smearing all over his hand, “we could be doing something entirely more productive.”

“Fucking on my desk isn’t more productive than –”

“I mean, I was thinking on your bed, none of us is getting any younger here, but if you’d rather have the desk –”

“No,” Tyrion says, “of course the bed would be better, but I really need to finish –”

“You don’t have to see his fucking majesty until afternoon,” Bronn says, sitting fully on the desk, damn him, “there’s enough time for your precious Greyjoy raven and I have nothing to do until then. I think we should fuck.”

“Will you let me finish after without more interruptions?” Tyrion groans, not that his dick isn’t already stirring in his breeches – he’s too fucking weak, but the way Bronn’s staring at him and the fact that his own dick is pretty much right up in his face now isn’t exactly helping.

“I mean,” Bronn grins back, “if you make it worth my while.”

“... Get on the damned bed,” Tyrion says, sliding off the chair – the asshole is too damned tempting and it’s not as if he even remembers what he was going to write at this point.

“Oh, thought you’d never ask,” Bronn replies, batting his stupid eyelids, which is a look that has no right working on him, fuck him thrice already, and then he stands up and heads for Tyrion’s bed and honestly, laying down on it all fucking languid and such is really not something that has any right to work when it comes to him, and yet.

And yet it does.

Seven Hells, he really is fucking whipped, isn’t he?

He stands up and heads for the bed.

He can finish the damned letter later.

End.