Unfortunately, his return would be delayed by the very man whose house currently felt a life term imprisonment.
It was nearly three in the morning, several hours since couples bid their tipsy farewells balanced precariously and clinging to rail and companion along the upstairs corridor. Robert and Jon had headed for the best guest bedroom in the house - Scotsman knew the route well these days - while King and Princess trotted off down the hall to the right towards their newly remodeled master bedroom.
Once inside, wipe down of makeup and clothes peeled away in slow, juicy wedges to reveal the wanton flesh beneath awaited His and His hosts, and Renly had not disappointed. Kitteny better half now fully satiated and dead to the world - bedazzled pink sleeping mask warding off the worst of dark rings under darker eyes come morning - he’d wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. Sure, the ensuite bathroom had a tap, but Renly wasn’t so monumentally piggish to install a freezer for ice, or even a mini bar, as some things were best kept out of the bedroom. Jon Snow - alias Lord Sensitive and Bastard of the realm - was not one of those things, but to find him sitting in the kitchen looking delightfully muzzy wasn’t a disappointing option either. A ruby red, meaty cherry, in fact, atop a large dollop of whipped cream he so very badly desired to lick off gladiatorial pecks.
The left, then the right, swirl it round those rosy nipples and take a bite! Mhmm, yeah! went Daddy’s new favourite nursery rhyme.
Gone was the earlier care with which someone - Robert - had groomed riotous curls now higgledy-piggledy after too many bevvies. And a decent amount of tugging, no doubt, judging by the earful we got around two o’clock... Of course, Renly would check home security footage in the morning for proof of his assumptions, dot his i’s and cross his t’s like a good little boy.
“Evening, Jon. Just down for some ice water. Trouble sleeping?”