The Girls Bare Their Bosoms

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Those were the magic words, it turned out.
Rhaenyra had taken Alicent's hands in her own and guided her over to the mirror. She was ****, but had softened when Rhaenyra asked, "do you trust me?" In front of the mirror, with Rhaenyra just behind her, peering contendedly over her shoulder, Alicent had taken a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded her assent. "I... I often wonder if they..." she flushed, too ashamed at the idea to get the words out. Rhaenyra knew what she would have said anyway. She'd often spent long evenings in her own company, standing before the mirror in naught but a flimsy cotton shift, swishing the fabric this way and that, gauging how the fabric clung to her own bosom, before slipping it off entirely and taking each of her firm, shapely breasts in hand to reassure herself they were sufficiently large.
Was that not what mattered most? Men made bawdy jokes and lustful asides about the 'fairer sex' whenever they pleased, it seemed, and a good half of every one ever made concerned the size and form a given lady's chest took. Rhaenyra had been crushed, she had to admit, to realise that her own would never grow any larger than they had been for the past year-and-a-half; no bigger than grapefruits, though very nearly just as round. She knew Alicent held the same secret worry; they had talked around the issue to the point that Rhaenyra could see the truth of her feelings in the negative space left by her **** to discuss the markers of her womanhood. The kiss had lulled Alicent, made her dreamy and suggestible; it was easier now to talk her into this than it ever would be again.
"I... I fear I'm small," she'd said, blushing. "In spirit, but also in... in..." she'd glanced down at her bosom, covered as it was by so much blue-green silk, the top half of the dress fringed by a ruffled white collar, and gulped. Rhaenyra had convinced her over the course of almost an hour with whispered, honeyed words, culminating in those last, most magic ones of all. With those, Alicent had, with much cringing and flustered fidgeting, allowed Rhaenyra to unlace her corset and unfasten her bodice. "Rhaenyra..." she'd turned her head to regard her, her mouth turned fretfully downwards. "You won't... you won't think less of me?"
"You're as pious as they come, Alicent," Rhaenyra reassured her. "I'm more certain of that than I am that the Sun sets in the West."
"N-not that," she squeaked. "At least... not completely. I mean..." she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, put a finger between her teeth and bit nervously down on a nail. Rhaenyra slapped it away from her mouth, a gesture that occurred so regularly by now that neither of them spared it much thought. "They're... pitiful. Small... The Gods..." she turned her head away. "I have not been blessed."
Rhaenyra shook her head sagely, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Alicent's bottom lip quivered. "H-hm?"
"Neither have I." Then, carefully, she tugged the frilly white collar and blue satin top of her dress down and down, until finally the proud, perky teats of Alicent Hightower had popped free. They were milky, moderately-sized hefts, crowned by wide, dark nipples that stood erect like two miniature High Towers, each encircled by a moat of similarly brown skin, themselves stranded like lone islands on a curved, creamy sea. The hefts lay heavy on her chest, but they did not lay flat or drooping, so much as delicately resting; twin mounds of weighty, supple softness, rising and falling slowly with the flowing of her breath. Alicent was terribly embarrassed, her breaths growing quicker and quicker, until she sounded as if she were on the verge of hyperventilating.
Rhaenyra breathed deeply. She was less than eager to expose her own treasures, even to Alicent, but fair was fair. She fumbled with her dress, trying to appear as casual as possible. They're not small, she reminded herself. Not in the slightest. "Help me with this," she urged Alicent; she obeyed, and together they slipped Rhaenyra's dress off. "You've... good shoulders," Alicent commented, staring at one of the princess' pale blades as it came into view. "I'm so pleased you noticed," Rhaenyra said, amused, as she freed the other shoulder and began pushing the top half of the dress down to rest by her midsection. While Alicent's breasts hadn't been large, Rhaenyra's were even more modest. They really were quite small, and their smallness meant that they had a startlingly defined shape, and appeared high and firm, always—buoyant, snowy fruits, the nipples tiny, stubby stems, so light they looked more white than pink. That was one of the ways they differed most; where her dear friend's nipples were dark, Rhaenyra's were ghostly pale, and crisscrossed with a network of faint veins that, to both of them, brought to mind the spread of interconnected rivers, streams and waterways one might see on a map.
"Like rivers," she said, happily. "Every river and stream in Westeros, right there, om your..." she pulled back, realising she was pointing rather rudely at Rhaenyra's left breast with her index finger.
"It's alright, Alicent." Rhaenyra took her hand, made her extend the finger again. "You can touch it... if you'd like?"
"I... I mean I wouldn't... I shouldn't like to but I neither would I..."
"Just... touch." Rhaenyra guided her hand out, out, out, until the barest hint of fingertip brushed the goose-pimpling bare skin of her little round teats. "Every stream, you said? Show me them," she encouraged, quietly. "Tell me what you see."
Alicent's throat moved as she gulped, and she looked several times between Rhaenyra's chest and her impassive face. She shifted her brow, subtly. Well? Go on! The gesture seemed to say. "Well..." she began, scrutinising Rhaenyra's breasts carefully. "How about... there!" Her finger pointed to a series of lines that ran parallel in a phantom web right under the right nipple. "The Mander! And..." she moved it an inch or so to the left. "There's the Golden Tooth!" The finger moved, dancing diagonally around. Touch it, Rhaenyra willed. Touch it. It didn' take long for Alicent to oblige, in her fascination with divining the shapes of the realm's waterways in the princess' teats, she came a mite too close in the pointing and ended up prodding it. She reddened noticeably, but said nothing. "A—and...and...I, uh..." It tickles, Rhaenyra thought, as Alicent went on stammering. "What would you call them?" she interrupted. "What was your first thought when you saw them?"
"My first..." Alicent demurred. "I... I don't think you'd like it."
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because..." She furrowed her brow. "Rhaenyra, just... just trust me, please? I don't wish to hurt your feelings, anymore than you would wish to hurt mine."
"My feelings aren't so easily hurt." Rhaenyra waved a hand dismissively. "And if they are... I promise I won't take it out on you. How does that sound?"
"I... I don't..."
"You do believe my word is my bond?"
Here, Alicent's expression shifted. She knew as Rhaenyra knew that something sacred had been invoked, something meaningful. Neither of them said such things when they did not mean them. "I... yes, I do," she nodded, going to smooth the front of her dress, and stopping when she remembered her breasts were exposed. She coughed to hide her awkwardness. "I do."
"Good." Teasingly, she raised a hand and held two fingers a scant couple of inches apart, then moved it to hold them, pincer-like, between the dark tower of Alicent's nipple. "Now, what would you call them?"
A long pause, as Alicent gathered up the strength and piled it high. "M-molehills...playing at mountains?" she offered, a touch guiltily.
Rhaenyra quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that how things are?"
"N-no...no, I didn't mean that."
"Oh, I think you did." Rhaenyra had an impish grin as she stepped forward, forcing Alicent back even as she pushed her own breasts against Alicent's; one set of mounds pressing into the other. The young Hightower made a shocked face, and Rhaenyra could feel exactly why; her nipples had been **** inwards by the advance of Rhaenyra's, inverting as the tower sank into the moat and was swallowed by the dark waters of her areolas. Both of them stood for a few moments, gazing down at their chests in wonderment. It was warm, that was the thing about it, and the way one bit of sensitive skin embraced the other, the way Rhaenyra could feel her nipples burrowing into the puffy, vacant space left by Alicent's in their retreat. This was what it must be like, to have a prick, and to feel it throbbing away inside a woman, she realised. "Rhaenyra!" Alicent hissed, breaking her from her stupour. "You promised!"
"I promised I wouldn't take my feelings out on you, I said nothing about not taking them out..." she looked down at the combined mass of their squashed-together teats. "On these." She pulled back, separating from Alicent, allowing both pairs to drop back into their natural resting position with a slight bounce. "Rhaenyra..." Alicent took a half-step back. "What are you going to—"
Quick as a snake, Rhaenyra, grinning impishly all the while, shot her fingers out and set them playing across the creamy curves of Alicent's breasts, letting them first alight on those wide, brown nipples of hers. Alicent cried out in shock, but Rhaenyra was already well ahead with her wicked work, flicking them back and forth, making them move like daggers quivering on a dartboard. For a brief moment Alicent had a face like thunder, and then her mouth twitched, her eyes filled with dread, and a single choked chuckle burst free. "Oh... oh, no..." she pleaded, already getting flustered. "R-rhaenyra, no please don't..."
"Don't what?" Rhaenyra replied, her fingers curled into claws as she ran them up and down over the stiffening nipples. "Go on! Spit it out!"
"T-t-t..." Alicent shook her head, again and again, "t...tee hee...tee...hee hee hee..." She was fighting to get the words out between rapidly escalating fits of giggles. "Tee...t-tickle...tickle me...!" she gasped. Rhaenyra's grin widened. "Well, I must say it's not exactly becoming of a good, pious girl of your station, My Lady, but if you insist..." she gave the right nipple another shivery scratch, and an extra strong flick for good measure, then moved outwards across Alicent's breasts, tickling the supple skin wherever she went. Where she touched her, Alicent laughed, and where she laughed, her firm, weighty tits jiggled "No, no stop it!" she squealed. "It's... the Septa... it's against... scripture..." She was going so deliciously red, blushing and blushing like every bit the maiden she was. It was quite the sight; Otto Hightower's only daughter with her pretty white pearls on full display, giggling and jiggling up a storm as she made weak, mealy-mouthed protestations. "Rhaenyra! R-Rhaenyra!" She tried to move away, but ended up braced against the bookshelf, making faces and laughing loudly as Rhaenyra tickled her naked titties. "Gods..." she kept saying. "Gods, help me," or, "Gods, have m-mercy!" between fits of laughter. The titties in question were responding nicely; the nipples were rock solid, as proud and high as the tower they so resembled, and the creamy curves were all-a-quiver with motion, both from Rhaenyra's wandering fingers and Alicent writhing and bucking in place; needless to say, it was most unbecoming.
At one point, after an age of tickling her as she had been, Rhaenyra went so far as to push her fingers up into the crease where the underside of Alicent's breasts met her abdomen and make them dance along there too. This sent Alicent even wilder, into a heady rush of teasing pleasure; her eyes rolled back and she bit her lip openly. "N-not there!" she whimpered "Oh, G-gods, not there!"
Rhaenyra smiled. The teasing really was the best part; it required no investment and could be denied as readily as a stolen apple from the Castle's Kitchens. Why, no Ser Goldcloak, I didn't see a naked girl slinking across the courtyard right under your post last night. What? Me? And how would you go about proving that? Would you aim to tell The King you know the shape of his daughter's bottom by sight? Or that you recall the exact number of petals growing on the flower between her legs? Hm, what's that? Oh, yes, I think it's best if you don't say anything at all. Who knows? You may even see something else tomorrow eve, if you carry on playing your cards right.
By now, Alicent's face looked like she'd been caught in the hot sun for days on end, redness spreading like wildfire across her cheeks and creeping its way up to her forehead. If her underthings weren't soaked through by now, Rhaenyra would have been shocked. She was still squealing up a storm, helpless and beautiful, pushing her chest out and arching her back. You know what you're doing, don't you? Rhaenyra observed. Play the stuttering maiden, act the screaming whore. Just for that, she doubled her efforts, getting at the sides, the tops, and returning to scratch around and around in circles about Alicent's poor, beleagured nipples. "I'm starting to think you like this," Rhaenyra said, going faster for a second or two to draw a high, girly moan out of her. "Is that it? You like this?" Alicent didn't answer, or rather couldn't, she just fixed her with those big, brown eyes, croaking out peal after peal of laughter. "Tell me you like it," Rhaenyra added. "And I'll stop."
"Hnh...uhnh..."
"Alicent."
"Mmmmmmmmmm..."
"Alicent, say something... or I'll start using my mouth." At that, the eyes widened; whether in fear or anticipation, Rhaenyra couldn't say.

[Author's Note: I always enjoy and appreciate feedback in terms of what's working and what isn't, so please feel free to like and/or leave comments!]