Everything written and published here will contain mature content, often violent themes, proceed with caution.
MDNI!
Requests are open - I write for Aemond, Aegon, Daeron.
Series
"The Price of Fire" 1/4 - Aemond x hidden!niece x Aegon
Aemond meets a mysterious silver-haired girl on the beach while facing Vhagar. Solving mysteries is an intellectual game he loves to play and what a magnificent mystery he now has in his hands.. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, hm?
"The Price of Fire" 2/4 - Aemond x hidden!niece x Aegon
After making a deal, Aemond agrees to help the young Lady Martell, on the sole condition of bringing her with him to the Keep.
One shots
"Teach you to obey" - Aegon x Daeron x Aemond
One evening, when Aegon forbids Daeron from going to a dangerous party in a Casino, Daeron disobeys and must face the consequences that entails.
"A night to learn" Pt1/2 - Aegon x Aemond
Aemond woke up in the middle of the night to hear his brother running from the house, again. He found him and decided to give him what he needed to keep him with him.
"A night to learn" Pt2/2 - Aegon x Aemond
"First Kiss, First..." - Aegon x Aemond
When Aemond comes home late and tries to avoid the presence of Aegon and his friends during yet another party, he finds himself playing a game that will take him further than he could have imagined.
hi guys, here's a new smutty drabble for our beloved modern!aemond, i'm blushing because of it and also because the way i can't stop thinking about him, okay bye (i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think please <33333)
modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut
"can i turn the page?" aemond whispers to your ear before pressing a kiss on the skin below.
you nod. you're completely settled down on his body, like puzzle pieces. he turns the page, his hand goes back to your waist as you both simultaneously read the book.
"can you believe we finish the pages at the same time?" you ask him when he moves his fingers on the book again. "we must be like- soulmates."
aemond smiles, it's the first time he hears something like that directed at him, and it's a weird feeling. he kisses your cheek as an answer, you turn your head to give him a better kiss and he leans into it quickly.
your body feels like it's melting on his chest, your lips against his as you adjust your legs to turn around and straddle his hips. the book in his hand remains, his other hand supports your waist. you deepen the kiss, sweet lips, such a sweet girl. aemond holds his breath to kiss you more, he draws a line on your spine and you move.
"you're distracting me." he says. "not nice, i'm reading this book for the first time."
"do you like it so far?" you ask, a kiss on his neck to distract him further.
"of course i do." he replies, coolly. "it's kafka."
"hmm." your voice vibrates on his neck and he has to tilt his head back. "can i have some of your attention?"
your cheekiness is lovely, the sunshiny attitude with a spark of naughtiness. aemond looks deep into your eyes to see the glint of having him wrapped around your finger. "you've read this before." he says as you kiss his neck with sinful lips. "i haven't- and i want to finish it."
"you can finish it." you say. "i'll promise i'll read it with you. i just wanna take a break."
he's a man of stamina but he has a clear weakness for your lips. there's no other option than marking the page he's supposed to read and putting the book aside. you get what you want.
"happy now?" he asks. you nod, kissing him thank you. he wraps both of his arms around your waist to pull you closer. leaning against the pillows fully, he adjusts the position on bed, leaving you no choice but letting him carry you.
"don't worry." you whisper. "you'll be happy, too."
"minx." he whispers back, impatient with the way your fingers play with the waistband of his sweatpants. "i don't like waiting."
"i know." you say. "but you gotta be patient to get what you want."
"that's my line." he says, he pulls you into a hungry kiss.
"really?" you tease. "i never noticed."
it would be so easy to change the position and having you under him just the way you like but you want to play, and aemond likes your games. you put your hand under the fabric to touch him, his abdomen tightens when your fingers graze the tip of his cock.
he doesn't like just laying there, doing nothing. his fingers push your shirt up to reveal your chest, you complete the task by taking the fabric off quickly. aemond pulls you gently, suddenly his mouth is on yours. you whisper his name, he sucks the bud in his warm mouth. his tongue moves wickedly, his other hand touching your other boob.
"take it off." he says, lifting his hips. "come on, beautiful. don't make me beg."
your mind starts going in that hazy space you love so much, so you do as he says. he doesn't wear anything under, you take off your own shorts even if it's more difficult. your eyes are barely open when aemond pulls you towards his face, his chin touches the upper side of your cunt and you throw your head back.
"aemond-" you say. "it's-"
"it's okay." he says. he pulls you a bit more to settle down and his mouth is on you. it puts your nerves on fire, you move your hips desperately. he opens his mouth more eagerly, trying to make you fall apart with his tongue.
"i'm gonna-" you start, afraid you'll hurt him. "i don't- please."
"please what?" he asks briefly, turning his attention back to your cunt.
"don't wanna crush you." you mumble. he sucks your clit deliciously.
"crush me." he says, holding onto your thighs. "do you think i care about that right now?"
"i care about that." you say, but the words don't mean anything with his tongue in you, and his pretty lips moving on your wetness with hunger. "oh-"
you lean forward without meaning to because the pressure he gives you is so nice and it makes you lose your balance a bit. he hits a perfect spot, he never stops until he gets to hear you whining for his name. his fingers draw shapes on your thighs, at this point you can't bring yourself to care about anything other than his mouth. he knows your body like the back of his hand. he uses all the information he has to get you the way he enjoys.
"aemond-" you start a sentence but the words are far away from your lips. he hums under you, a delicious vibration shakes your core. you are helpless, you can't think of anything else other than pressing yourself in a better angle on his mouth.
aemond welcomes the pressure, he makes sure taking in every drop. it's hard not to touch himself when he's sure his cock is weeping desperately, but you taste good in his mouth, and he's a selfish man for your needs.
arching your back towards him, one of your hands hold his hand on your thigh and the other goes to his hair. your fingers go through the silver strands, his hands on you tighten. you are whispering love confessions now, unable to stop yourself. there's an invisible curtain around you and aemond, it separates you from the world, and you don't care about anything other than him.
aemond can accept he's addicted to make you come. it's just the way you go mindless, all blank except his name in your pretty head. you squeeze his hand to warn him you'll come, then you're all over him. closed eyes and a limp body, he keeps licking every drop you give him until you stop shaking.
your legs are numb. aemond has to help you lay next to him, your hand stays in his. you'll never let go of his hand. he fixes your messed up hair, rubs his finger on the thin layer of sweat covering your body. you look up to him with lovesick eyes, leading one of your legs to stay in between his. he pulls you to his chest.
"let me help you." you say, almost whispering as your hand reaches to his cock. you kiss his neck, he holds your body close to his as you start moving your hand on him.
he's already hard, almost aching. you give him pretty bruises on his neck as you keep jerking him off. your hand moves up and down first, fingers wrapped around him just the way he showed you the first time you had sex. you squeeze gently, aemond lifts his hips towards you impatiently.
"i know." you say to his ear. his muscles are so tight, he can't help but imagine his release. "lead me. do anything you want with me, just wanna help you."
aemond angles his head to give you better access to his neck and you get what he means. your teeth graze his skin slowly, he moans your name in a silent plea.
"you're doing so good by yourself." he admires. "a bit faster maybe. i'm close."
the tone of his voice is nothing but promising. you do as he says, moving your hand faster on him. he grunts, the sound goes straight to your head. you move and move and move.
until he finally snaps.
he moves his hips for a brief second, can't control it. his good eye stays shut as he helplessly buries himself to your naked chest. you hold him, keeping your hand on his cock until the white ropes of cum stop.
aemond stays where he is. he doesn't dare moving from his spot on your chest. your hand is covered of him, a wave of possessiveness shatters him. he feels too exhausted to say something.
your fingers go through his hair. he stays still to calm his breath, you kiss him on his forehead. his hand is limp on your waist. you make a good job on holding him close. your lips stay sealed on his head for seconds.
"i won't be able to focus on the book again." aemond says, smiling through his pleasure. "you ruined me."
"if anything, you ruined me first." you say back. "the book isn't going anywhere, you can continue tomorrow."
he snuggles closer to your warmth.
"you promised to read it with me." he reminds you.
"i did." you say, one of your hands in his hair, the other on his hip. "i'll keep my promise."
Summary: After making a deal, Aemond agrees to help the young Lady Martell find answers about her origins, on the sole condition of bringing her with him to the Keep.
Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, you pronoun, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage HOTD style, nsfw.. (coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥)
Rating: 18+, MDNI
English is not my first language
The flame that was born in the prince's spirit—and body—is visible in his eyes, something you quickly notice, even through its mere reflection on the blade of his dagger.
"There is a place where you might find answers, but for that, you will have to follow me."
Suspicious, you step away from him, already regretting the warmth against your back, a thought that destabilizes you.
Why do you want to stay in the arms of a man as dangerous and unpredictable, holding a dagger before your eyes?
Your logic seems to have disappeared along with your survival instinct because now that you are facing him, you know that no matter where he wants to take you, you will follow him.
"Follow you where?"
"Your Grace. My Prince. Choose what you prefer, but where we are going, you will have to address me as you should have from the beginning." Saying this, he steps closer, placing the flat of the blade under your chin, lifting your face towards his, now in front of you.
This allows you to see him more closely, admiring his lilac eye, cold and burning at the same time, as his breath caresses your lips. "Do you think you are capable of doing that, Lady Martell? Is it acceptable if I call you that? Perhaps by the end of the night, we will have a more fitting name to offer you..."
He removes the dagger before you can respond and steps back.
"Yes, my Prince. I will know how to apply the protocol and lower my eyes when we encounter a living soul. I can display good manners, contrary to what you may believe."
"You haven't given me the opportunity to witness that until now."
He walks past you, taking a few steps towards Vhagar and turning his slender, angular face towards you, a smirk forming on his lips as he gestures to the creature. "The Red Keep. That's where we are going. To the king's private library, to be more precise. I will read to you what you need to know and—"
"No need for you to read to me, my prince, I can read. I understand several languages and study philosophy. But if some writings seem incomprehensible to me, I will appeal to your good heart to help me."
The tone of your voice is mocking but playful, not to hurt but to tease, something Aemond is definitely not used to and which ignites a strange and unfamiliar desire within him, coursing through his body like an electric current.
He does not respond but does not lose his smile as he takes your hand—without you resisting this time—and leads you to Vhagar. She is impressive, enormous, and terrifying, yet deep down, the desire to climb on her back overwhelms the urge to flee. "Are you afraid, Lady Martell?"
His tone is still mocking, but he looks at you with an interest and curiosity you do not notice as you are fascinated by the animal.
"It takes a lot to scare me, and I am ready to do much to know who I am." You reply in a breath before letting him help you mount.
His presence behind you, securing your ascent, his hands on your hips when you reach the top, and the warmth of his chest against your back when he seats you in front of him, tightening the straps between him and the saddle to keep you safe, all feel too pleasant, almost intoxicating. And this is exactly how he feels too; Aemond is intoxicated by the scent of your long silver hair gently brushing against his face, by your warm and vibrant body between his arms when Vhagar cleaves the air and takes you above the clouds.
The journey is swift, so you savor every moment, trying to silence the obvious voice of your conscience shouting at you not to let yourself be trapped in a castle, far from everyone you know, no one aware of your presence there. The prince could do exactly what he wants with you once you are there; he could even feed you to his dragon if he wished, and yet, you cannot feel worry, only impatience and excitement.
The Keep is as you imagined, mainly because your father described it to you, like many castles or important places. Aemond is courteous in helping you dismount, the dragon keepers casting surprised and curious glances but not daring to question their prince.
Upon arriving at the library he spoke of, you can only look up and scan each shelf, each row of books, a look of wonder on your face, illuminated only by the candlelight.
"There are hundreds of books... it would take a lifetime to read them all."
Seeing you smile as you run your fingers over some of them, Aemond surprises himself by doing it, a quick smile that leaves a slight smirk on his lips as he follows you, always a few steps behind. "What do you want to know?"
There are far too many things you would like to ask, and the night will not last forever, so you focus. "The families of dragon riders and silver-haired people. If I am one of them, if I am the..." you hesitate to pronounce word you have always avoided hearing whispered in the corridors by ill-intentioned mouths, "If I am the bastard of one of them, I would at least like to know their names."
"Hm. Unfortunately, we do not record... unwanted births, but you can get an idea of who might have done this."
As he invites you to sit at a dark wooden table, three large candles illuminating his amused features as he leans over you. "If you are indeed a Targaryen, then it would be a crime in my eyes to have abandoned such a beautiful specimen of our blood," His hand places a book before you before caressing your cheek, never letting his single indigo eye leave you, "to have given to the Martells one of ours, one of those who belongs to us."
This sentence sends strange shivers through your body, your breath catching before you understand what is happening; Aemond quickly leans towards you, his lips touching yours, warmer than you would have thought compared to his coldness.
Your eyes remain wide open, not knowing what to do, mesmerized by what is happening.
Backing away or defending yourself would be an offense to the prince.
Welcoming his surprising advance might encourage him to think you want more.
And despite the different paths before you, you stop thinking, closing your eyes when his long fingers wrap around your hair, just above your nape and grip, just enough to keep your face against his as his kiss deepens, his tongue demanding access to your mouth.
Having forgotten to breathe for too long, you take a breath, opening your mouth just enough to let the air reach you again, but it's not just air that enters, it's Aemond's skillful and precise tongue caressing yours.
And just as hearing him speak High Valyrian gave you strange butterflies in your stomach, feeling his tongue dance with yours ignites a warmth between your legs, the same kind of warmth you have felt after witnessing some rather special and heated evenings in the chambers of Dorne.
As if Aemond could read your thoughts, he pulls back, finally releasing your mouth but keeping your hair in his hand.
He speaks so close to your lips that you can feel the warmth of his breath.
“The Dornish are said to have loose morals and greatly enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without the slightest shame. Did they raise you like this? Have you ever tasted the warmth of a man - or even a woman?" His hand slides out as he sits in a chair next to you, turning you to face him as his hand lands where he wants it, right at the bottom of your belly. Your whole body tenses, your gaze sliding to his hand before staring back at him, anticipating his next action. “Have you ever lost your purity?”
This time his hand comes to rest where no one has ever touched you before.
You feel your cheeks blush violently and place your two hands on his chest - of which you feel through the fine leather the Prince's muscles, trained, strong, dangerous - pushing in the hope of making him step back to show him your disagreement on his way of doing things.
“Stop it!” You whisper violently, pushing him away with more force, but the man doesn't move, amused to see your reaction.
“Answer me, and we’ll think together to find out who forced you to live so far from home.”
"No. No I haven't lost my purity, who do you take me for? I’m not a whore!”
You know, however, that in Dorne, there is no shame in indulging in pleasure, but you have never felt the need to touch or be touched, preferring to watch whenever the opportunity presented itself to you.
Aemond Targaryen laughs softly, before placing another kiss, this time on your forehead. This gesture surprises you but you don't move, far too stunned to initiate anything, waiting for his next move. On the beach you had more confidence, but here, it is no longer neutral territory, it is his home, you are within his walls, you allowed yourself to be invited into the dragon's den and followed him without precaution.
“You see me surprised - in the good sense of the word.” he adds without losing his amused look as he puts the chair back correctly to sit properly next to you. But the damage is done; he gave birth to something in you that you cannot silence.
*
You spend several hours talking together, him teaching you all that you still don't know about royalty, the blood of dragons, and their masters, while you inform the prince with as many details as possible about the night you were entrusted to the Martells.
Preferring to avoid prying eyes and ears, Aemond eventually takes you to his quarters; a vast room where the fire purrs in the fireplace, illuminating the space with an orange glow.
Your steps would like to be hesitant, but you do not allow yourself the slightest visible weakness, entering with your head held high while he slips behind you. It is only when the door to his room closes that you turn around, swallowing hard as you look at him. His gaze has changed; it resembles more the predator you met on the beach than the patient man who instructed you tonight in the library.
"I should go back... the night is already well advanced, and I don't think I can provide any more information to our reflection."
He nods, his hands behind his back as he approaches. And with each step he takes towards you, you have the presence of mind to take one back, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between you two.
But this sense of security is illusory, you realize when the back of your knees meets a surface not so hard and you fall seated on one of the sofas.
"Do I frighten you, little girl?"
You want to tell him that you are not frightened and, even less, his little girl, but the words remain stuck in your throat, as does your breath. You are not afraid of him in a literal sense; it is something far worse than that: an attraction, a need to taste his lips, to touch his skin, to know his thoughts, and, when he is so insufferable, to silence him with your mouth on his.
Perhaps he reads your thoughts again because, narrowing his eye slightly, he smiles and leans over you, placing his hands on the back of the sofa, trapping you between it and his body, then places his lips on yours again.
The kiss is short but warm, calling for more.
“You’ve probably heard a lot of things about us, about our family. You are well aware that our marriages remain – as much as possible – within the family, that we keep the blood pure, for our perfect lineage.”
“Yes” you whisper under your breath as he doesn’t even pull away, speaking against your mouth, brushing it, pulling back just enough to look at your beautiful eyes that captivate him a little more with each second he spends admiring them.
“If you are truly one of us and, from what I can already see from your features, body and temper, seems to me the only truth, then that means that you have to return to the Targaryens. That you should be one of us and, since I’m the one who found you, don’t you think I should be the one to claim you?”
Claim you.
His words paralyze you and warm you at the same time, a shiver running through your body whose chest rises and falls to the rhythm of your newfound breath, which accelerates at this simple thought.
“I know what they say about those who raised you; unbowed, unbent, unbroken.. just like Targaryen women can have a fiery temperament but, you know, I have tamed the greatest and most terrifying of dragons, no doubt I will succeed in tamming your fire.”
Anticipating your reaction, when you try to get up to get out of his grip and escape, Aemond places his knee on the sofa, between your legs, forcing you to stay under him and grabs your hair with one hand, tangling his fingers harshly in your silver locks before throwing himself on your mouth, devouring you with a kiss more passionate than you ever dreamed of receiving.
You feel him smile against your mouth as he allows you to breathe again and wish his smile didn't have that effect on you.
His other hand slides between your legs and, over the fabric of your loose Dornish pants, begins to caress you with his fingertips, initiating an electric shock of desire that immediately tightens your stomach and makes your cheeks burn.
“Since this little precious thing is still pure and untouched, I should make it mine to ensure that no other man, unworthy of you, ever takes possession of it.”
You arch under the delicious sensation and the promise of belonging to this man so sure of himself, wanting to make you his.
“I...I can’t.” You try to articulate, pressing your forehead to his before staring at him, trying to look sure of yourself when only desire shines in your clear eyes. “If I let you take this from me, my father will never be able to mary me, I will be wasted, impure.”
His grip tightens in your hair to the point of making you yelp in pain, your brows furrowing in fear and surprise.
“You will never be impure for having been touched by a dragon... And you are much more naive than I thought if you imagine that I am going to let you leave without having tasted you, without having made you mine and above all,” he grabs your face between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him, “do you think I have no words and would leave you after that? If I want your body tonight, it’s to claim it for life.”
You feel your body tremble under his as his fingers begin a dance between your legs which makes you moan softly, your arms coming to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, just long enough for an intense kiss as he straightens up, standing in front of you as he removes his leather tunic, revealing a perfectly sculpted, lean and muscular torso that your fingers instantly want to roam over.
He sees how you devour him with your eyes and smirks again.
“Do you like what you see, my dear? How unfair it is to look without giving. Get up."
Since you hate being ordered around, you just stare at him for a moment, deliberately causing the Prince to huff with envy the second you stand up to him, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him, standing at your turn. “Obeying is not your strong point, we’re going to have to work on that.”
“I’m not easy to lead, if you want to make me yours, you’ll have to be convincing.”
He knows that you are of his blood, he senses it in your warmth but especially in your temperament; you could be his sister, with the provocative side of Aegon and the fearless side of himself. “Don’t underestimate me, pretty flame, I will be happy to tame you..”
With a quick movement, he reverses the roles, positioning himself with his back to the sofa and removing what remains of his clothes before sitting down, his pretty lilac eye still fixed on you. “Take off your clothes, and don’t keep me waiting, otherwise my hands will find their way to your pretty white skin to make it blush.”
More simple words and yet they only increase the tension and wetness between your legs, forcing your thighs to clench together in hopes of quenching the urge.
A vain hope.
Wanting to trap him at his own game, you slowly undo the fabric at the top of your tunic, revealing one shoulder, then the other, sliding the fabric up your arm before letting it fall to your waist, offering his eye envious of your upper body, your breast and your stomach.
You see with amusement and pride his manhood, harder than ever, demanding attention and reacting instantly to the sight of your body which he finds inexorably perfect.
Aemond resists the urge to touch you, just long enough to allow you to fully entertain yourself, which you do far too slowly for his liking. Then his will disappears and he grabs the waistband of your loose pants, quickly opening it and making the fabric fall to your ankles, which you quickly discard, now completely naked in front of him.
He denies you any modesty as he looks at you, his gaze creating a burning fire wherever it lands on you, but you let him do until he grabs you by the waist and brings you to him, astride his lap.
A gasp of surprise and apprehension escapes you but soon, his hand caresses your hip, slowly, possessively. His other hand finding the path he had initially taken a few minutes earlier.
You feel him caress your slit, several times while his thumb circles around your pearl of pleasure. You bite your lips to try to control yourself but after such a short few minutes, you find yourself unable to control the slight movements of your body which seek to meet Aemond's hand, breathless.
“Don’t try to hide from me the pretty melody I’m going to make you sing.” He orders you gently, an order to which you do not object this time, giving free rein to the murmurs that the pleasure he offers you gives rise to. His finger presses at the entrance to your body, several times, penetrating you as you cling to his shoulders, lowering yourself a little on him, so close to his manhood that, when you realize it, you jump slightly for fear of losing control.
“Easy, I won’t take you until I hear you cum first.”
The timbre of his voice is sufficient, proud, but the pleasure he gives you justifies his pride to the point where you don't even respond to him, feeling the characteristic pressure of pleasure forming in the lower part of your belly, stronger and stronger as his finger curls inside you to caress then relentlessly hammer this sweet spot that makes you see stars.
His other hand presses against your lower back, accentuating your arch as you lose control of your body.
“Aemond..Aem-”
“I know, I have you, little flame, give me what I want, soak my fingers with your pleasure to give me the reward of tasting you.”
It doesn't take much more for you to cum, tightening your velvet walls, hot and soaked on his finger as his thumb caresses you at a frantic pace.
Your foreheads instinctively press together and as your eyes close, he could swear he’s seen that expression on a woman’s face before.
Forehead pressed to that of the man she loves.
Soothed.
Confident.
He puts this thought in a small corner of his mind, determined to explore this theory, but not now.
He rides your orgasm until it becomes too much and then gently withdraws his finger, sucking it before your amazed eyes.
“Next time, I will drink directly between your legs, and you will know why only my name will pass your lips.”
Your eyes shine and the desire is instantly reborn when you hear it. Your hands wander over his chest, knowing what is likely to happen now, welcoming his hands on your hips without flinching then, slowly you decide to play your role in your lovemaking and take matters into your own hands, sliding your soaked slit along his manhood, which does not than make him groan with envy.
Once again you feel the pleasure coming over you every time his cock comes to caress your pearl and the only thing you have in mind is to feel him slipping into you.
“I wanted to give you a little break but it seems that you are stronger than I imagined.”
With a devouring kiss, he conquers your mouth before adding; “Before the moon sets, you will be mine.”
Summary: Aemond meets a mysterious silver-haired girl on the beach while facing Vhagar. Solving mysteries is an intellectual game he loves to play and what a magnificent mystery he now has in his hands.. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, hm?
Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, you pronoun, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage HOTD style, nsfw.. (coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥)
Rating: 18+, MDNI
English is not my first language
If your life has always been beautiful, bathed in opulence and pleasure, your birth remains a mystery nonetheless. As you look at yourself this evening in the tall mirror of the room where you are staying during this journey, this thought crosses your mind once again.
You were still just a baby, a newborn, the day a man you know nothing about except that he was unpleasant to look at and had difficulty walking, offered you to your father with a lot of gold to leave the continent in the greatest secrecy. A wealthy and respected Dornishman, a Martell, who raised you as his own daughter, integrating you into his powerful family upon his return to Dorne and taking care to protect you as if the sky might one day open to take you back.
When he couldn't sleep, he would look up at that same sky, scanning the horizon for a threat of which you knew nothing.
Yet, with every dream of dragons, clouds, and storms that you shared with your father, he became increasingly vigilant.
It took a lot of persuasion to convince him to let you accompany him to the royal city, the same one he had always warned you about. But he had no choice, always preferring to know you were with him or with trusted people, like the family you had arrived at a few days earlier. And it was not without regret that your father had to leave for a week-long trip, leaving you alone here with your uncle and aunt who treated you like a diamond to be hidden from others' eyes.
You never went out, and if you had to meet other people, it was always with a scarf to hide your hair, eyes downcast, so as not to reveal the lovely color of your eyes.
But tonight, awakened by yet another dream of growling, fire and the noise of wings flapping, you look at yourself, still sweaty, in the mirror. Your hair is long, slightly wavy, and moon-colored, as much as your eyes are a pale indigo, asking for answer you're craving to discover.
You need to get some air, to be alone, far from this golden prison your father left you in. Gathering your courage, you climb out the bedroom window with grace and agility before slipping into the streets, guided only by your instinct and the sound of the waves calling you.
The sun has set for a while, but the night is surprisingly clear, the moon almost illuminating as if it were dawn. The crowded streets turn into alleys, then paths before your bare feet in Dornish-style sandals - like the rest of your outfit; mustard-colored pants slit at the thigh and a burgundy drape revealing your shoulders - touch the sand still warm from the day. You smile, sighing softly with pleasure and relief to be away from everything and everyone, until a strange noise, a purr or rather, a growl, draws you down to the sea.
It is not a rock, as you first thought, that stands there, but something alive.
And enormous.
As you approach, hand outstretched, curiosity getting the better of you, a huge eye opens not far from you, making you gasp in surprise. And it is not the only thing that opens; an huge maw with the smell of sulfur parts, an unknown but dangerous light emerging from its depths.
“Vhagar! No!”
The voice of a man makes you look up, waking you from the stupor that had paralyzed you upon seeing the creature open its maw before you, and not just any creature: a dragon.
“Who are you and why were you trying to attack my dragon? Do you seek death, little girl? Because Vhagar was about to grant your prayers!” says the voice again, a silhouette stepping between the monster and you, drawing your attention. This silhouette is none other than the prince to whom this dragon belongs, and you know this because your father has taught you. You know the princes and princesses of the great houses, the useful names, literature, philosophy, and religion too.
Tilting his head slightly to the side at your silence, the prince before you seems to be losing patience as you search for his name in your memory. You can see it in his one-eyed gaze, fixed on you.
Not knowing what to do, and still somewhat shaken, you turn on your heels and start running, but the flight is short-lived for, after hearing footsteps behind you, you feel a grip on your arm, forcing you to stop your run and turn so quickly that you lose balance and fall backward.
The sand cushions your fall, a gasp of surprise and pain escaping your lips as you find yourself pinned to the beach by him. You're not afraid and respond with courage, your thin eyebrows furrow and your gaze attempting to be threatening, even though the man questioning you doesn’t seem frightened at all.
“That is very rude, turning your back on a prince and refusing to obey, hm? Perhaps you are truly suicidal...”
He almost seems angry that you are so reckless, but you only struggle more, apparently unimpress by him.
"I wasn't trying to hurt your dragon, I just raised my hand to touch it, so let me go!" you reply with rage, kicking and wiggling your hips to free yourself, but Aemond holds on and has a clear physical superiority over you; the rigorous training he engaged in daily since the accident had sculpted his body fiercely and effectively.
However, despite all his hours of training with Cole and all the fighters he now beat, nothing had prepared him for such audacity from a woman, let alone one so young and in a definitely delicate position.
"Prince Aemond..." you murmur, your voice suddenly losing its courage as you recognize the man who has literally fallen on you.
It is his single eye that helped you regain your senses and memory. Under other circumstances, you would have been quicker to remember, but the sight of a dragon and the confrontation with a man, alone in the middle of nowhere, had made you lose your composure more than you would like to admit.
Out of all the people living in this great city, you had to stumble upon a prince, and not just any prince; one of the king's sons, the one whose dark rumors reached Dorne. Being terribly close to him, you cannot ignore his hair of the same color as yours, and his eye, his only eye, which stared at you with the same violet gleam.
Your father would be terribly furious and scared if he learned about this. It shouldn't happen; you need to leave and disappear as quickly as possible, return to your chamber, and not come out until his return.
Just for a moment, you think you might be scared - not only of Aemond Targaryen, but of the consequences of your encounter. But the thought doesn’t have time to take root before the prince lifts you to better pin you against the ground again, wanting to bring you back to reality.
"You seem to know who I am but refuse to tell me who you are." The prince growls, the coldness of his fine features turning darker. He obviously isn’t used to being refused, let alone by a young girl lost on the beach daring to resist him. "Answer me, it's an order!"
You don’t know what you risk by refusing to obey a prince, but the mere idea of your father’s reaction or being recognized fills you with more fear. Trying to sit up, you growl in frustration. "Get off me! I swear I wasn't going to do anything, so let me go!"
Wanting to tip the odds in your favor and taking advantage of the element of surprise, you quickly lift your knee, managing to hit him, probably not hard enough to hurt but enough to surprise him. If he thinks he could intimidate you, he doesn’t know you because when Aemond’s eye widens in surprise, you quickly turn your head and bite his forearm as hard as you can, tasting the warm metallic flavor of his blood against your lips.
Vhagar growls in concert with his rider, who releases you with a hiss of pain, as if he has just put his hand in molten lava.
Astonishment paints the prince's features, and it’s the moment you choose to stand up, finally finding yourself on your feet before him. But Aemond Targaryen is quick and just as swiftly on his feet, his dagger in hand.
Both of you face each other, in an attack or defense position, no one could really tell.
The only thing you want is to flee. Run as fast as possible, as far as possible. Do not look back. Forget this evening, the dragon. Forget the prince and the fear.
You have not learned to fight, and now that the moon reflects the prince’s deadly blade, you know the fight is lost from the start. Yet, that’s not the only thing the moon and the fight have uncovered; your scarf is negligently stretched out at your feet, in the sand, revealing your entire hair and leaving no doubt about your astonishing resemblance.
At this sight, the prince lowers his weapon slightly, fascinated by what he sees; not only by your similar traits but by you, just you. He looks at you as he has never looked at anyone, a new gleam born in his eye. “It seems we started off on the wrong foot. Will you stop struggling or trying to flee? On my side, I promise not to use this,” he says, showing you his dagger, “against you.”
The options are unfortunately limited for you, but curiosity wins over your reflections, abandoning all common sense. The worst is already done; Aemond Targaryen has seen how much you resemble him so, why to refuse?
You nod gently and stand up completely, letting your hands hang at your sides as he approaches cautiously, scrutinizing every part of you his lilac eye can land on.
“What is your name?”
“Roxaene.”
"Judging by your clothes, your posture and your intact features, you come from a house with, at least a last name I imagine."
“Martell.” You finally add, a sigh of frustration escaping your lungs at having had to reveal so much to him.
His fine eyebrows furrow for just a moment, creating a line between his two eyes. “The Dornish women have quite different physical characteristics in my last memories; they are known to be magnificent and captivating and although I definitely don't question the beauty of your face - and what else I can see...” he says, letting his eye run along your body, your skin offered on your shoulders, seeing the paleness of your thigh and your bare arms. “..it seems obvious to me that if you live in Dorne, you are not originally from there. Isn’t that right?”
Uncomfortable, you swallow, your gaze unable to fix on anything, uncertain. You bite your lip for a moment and look at him again, not wanting to appear frightened or hesitant. “There are some shadows around my early days of life...”
Aemond murmurs in approval, circling you like a bird with prey, like a dragon before attacking, and it’s when he is behind you that you shiver as his blade appears in front of your eyes, just far enough for both your reflections to appear. “Shadows or not, you cannot deny what you see, can you?”
Feeling him so close to you, almost glued to your back, makes you tense, but you remain stoic. Of course, you see how your resemblance is unsettling, of course, you see the similarities that make you who you are. But your father never wanted to tell you more, so even if you wanted to, you couldn’t reveal more to the prince.
“Yes... but I’m afraid I have nothing else to tell you.” In a last moment of courage, you turn your head towards him, your gaze meeting his. “In fact, I was hoping that by coming to this city, I would be the one to get some answers.”
He remains motionless, staring at you while listening to you and yet, even if your words have reached his mind, the prince cannot help but smell the scent of orange blossom from Dorne's gardens filling his nostrils as he inhales you like a succulent meal to taste, pressing his chest closer to your back to feel the warmth.
At that moment, the young prince knows that he will never want to let you go again.
Aemond Targaryen loves to plan, think, decode, understand. Solving mysteries is an intellectual game he loves to play and what a magnificent mystery he now has in his hands.
Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.
Without a doubt, you respond proudly and courageously to the dogma of your house, but this, instead of curbing the curiosity and desire of Prince Aemond, only increases his desire to unravel your mystery.
To make you bow, bend and break for him.
Summary: When Aemond comes home late and tries to avoid the presence of Aegon and his friends during yet another party, he finds himself playing a game that will take him further than he could have imagined.
The evening was in full swing at the Targaryen family home; Otto, Viserys and Alicent had gone on a business trip for the weekend, Helaena had also left to spend a few days with her cousins and Aegon had taken advantage of this free time to invite friends to do what he did best ; drink, laugh, dance and have fun.
It was already well into the night when the front door closed in an unsuccessful attempt at discretion. Lying next to a huge sofa, on a soft, thick rug, Aegon tilted his head back to see his little brother trying to slip away upstairs so as not to be seen.
“Aemond, brother! Come here!”
It made him freeze but obey and join them.
He had grown from a child to adolescence and it was safe to say that puberty had worked miracles with Aemond. He was tall, finely muscled and his facial features now reflect those of a dangerous man but no longer those of a child.
However, he came calmly and leaned against the door frame, looking over the few people who were passing a cigarette, which he suspected was something completely different given the smell, were drinking alcohol, all lying down or sitting down to chat.
“You’re not going to go and hide upstairs! It’s not polite, come say good morning.”
“The day isn’t even up yet.” Aemond replied, frowning a little, as if he wanted to show his displeasure.
“Don’t play with words, come here and say hello.” Aegon held out his hand towards him and it was a sighing and grunting Aemond who accepted anyway and took his brother's hand, being pulled to the ground.
A nod was all Aemond was willing to offer to the people at his house, most of whom he only knew by name.
“Have a drink, it will do you good.”
Without flinching, Aemond took a glass and tasted the strong but sweet liquid, trying to settle in without looking uncomfortable, which evenings like this made him do.
“We were starting a little game, join us, you’re still all alone up there, come out of your cave, little brother.”
Aegon's friends laughed but Aemond didn't give up and nodded. “Whatever my big brother wants.” He added in a mocking tone which amused the guests just as much, drawing a proud smile on Aegon’s face.
They spent part of the night playing, drinking a little more and when the more tendentious questions came, Aemond became less talkative, which one of their friends, a Stark, noticed immediately. Holding out an empty beer bottle that served as a talking totem or something, he smiled.
“How many people have you fucked?”
Uncomfortable, Aemond shifted a little where he was sitting, straightening up. And it didn't take much for the young Stark to understand.
“Damn, no one? Okay, so let me change my question. How many have you kissed?”
But the uneasiness did not dissipate in the features of the youngest Targaryen and Aegon made an outraged face.
"What? No, no, no, not under my watch!” He leaned back on the sofa and stretched his legs, looking at Aemond. “You’ve never kissed anyone? Baby bro, you make me look like a completely incompetent brother in your education.”
A mocking, somewhat forced laugh passed Aemond's thin lips. “You are in no way responsible for my education, lighten your conscience.”
“Bullshit. This field is mine and I am shocked to learn of such a lack of knowledge and practice on your part, dearest brother. We’ll fix this.”
This time he didn't give him time to respond to his outstretched hand and grabbed him by the wrist, forcing him quickly to come close to him. Aemond fell on all fours in front of his brother who smiled with an air that was as amused as it was benevolent for once.
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing, anyone can attest to that.”
Aemond could only briefly look at those around him, a redheaded girl nodding with a small encouraging smile. Defeated and a little foggy from the alcohol, he let himself be guided by Aegon who made him come astride his lap, one of his hands going up to his cheek, which he caressed before his thumb came to touch his soft and untouched lips.
“Let me teach you something.”
He came to meet him, pulling Aemond against him and their lips touched. The sensation was strange at first, Aemond's heart having accelerated considerably to the point where he was certain he could discern its outlines. Several times, Aegon's lips placed a kiss before he tried to pull his head back but the elder's hand had slipped to the back of his neck and prevented him from doing so. “No, no, that’s not a real kiss. Let me in, let me make your mouth my new favorite place.”
Red rose to Aemond's cheeks, burning him pleasantly, something he never thought possible and if at first he didn't dare open his mouth, his brother's teasing and wet tongue got the better of his resistance, parting his lips to give him what he wanted.
So the kiss took on a whole new dimension; Aegon's tongue caressed his, knowing exactly what he was doing while taking care of his lips which he sucked gently in spurts before once again busying himself with devouring him with passion.
Aemond relaxed and learned how to respond to the kiss, first by imitating his elder and then, when he had a little more confidence in himself and having identified what he wanted and could do, he began to kiss him back, biting perhaps a little harder on Aegon's lips which he wanted to see swollen and red by his care.
When the kiss ended, his breath was short, his eyes bright with desire and his own lips swollen with pleasure and shiny.
Aegon's hand caressed his cheek, putting his thumb in his mouth before giving a small smile, kissing his lips so gently, almost coyly.
"Did you like it?" He asked, whispering against his brother’s lips, resting his forehead against Aemond's.
But the younger did not need to respond as a significantly hard bump hit Aegon's stomach and he laughed softly against his brother's lips.
“Oh, I think you really liked it.”
Tangling his fingers in his brother's long silver hair, Aegon pulled him back to him, smiling against his ear. “Now that I have started your education, maybe I should continue it, hmm? What do you think, baby brother?” He asked, illustrating his words with a movement of his pelvis, discreetly rubbing against Aemond's manhood from which a growl resonated.
“I was stupid to believe that you would learn on your own, after all, it's a role that I have neglected far too often but, don't worry, I will teach you everything your body needs to know."
Summary: Aemond woke up in the middle of the night to hear his brother running from the house, again. He found him and decided to give him what he needed to keep him with him.
Aegon's moans filled the room in an utterly humiliating manner; If a few hours earlier he had known that he would find himself under his little brother, moaning like this, he would never have believed it.
Aemond was in private as he always was: meticulous and perfectly in control of himself and of the one in his hands. Aegon even wondered what experience his brother had to do this with such ease.
Because the very thought that his brother had slept with other people seemed incredible to him.
Aemond's hand had left the elder's cock to pull down his pants, growling in frustration, as if the fact that he was wearing clothes upset him. He took a moment to pull back his body and head, just enough to look at him and his gaze only burned Aegon’s skin in a new way. He felt his cheeks flush violently and turned his head over his shoulder when his mouth was free. “Aem.. what... are you..?”
“Shht, let me look at you. You’re not usually modest, why be so now.”
Aegon was not suffering from excessive modesty, he was simply not reassured to ignore his younger brother's thoughts.
Aegon swallowed hard, jumping when a hand wandered over his back and down to his ass, the fingers he himself had moistened coming to caress the entrance to his body. A breath caught in his throat and he tensed, but soon Aemond grabbed him by the hair again to pull his head back, making him groan.
“Relax. Since you run into dangers and strangers every night, I’ll make sure I find a way to put an end to this.”
As he spoke, his thumb pressed harder against his brother's puckered hole and Aegon wanted to lower his head and muffle his moans against the mattress, something Aemond did not allow him.
“Please…don’t…don’t hurt me.”
For a second, Aemond stopped moving, looking at him almost in shock, then furrowed his thin silver eyebrows. But soon, he regained consistency and pressed his burning chest against Aegon's stiff and almost trembling back, now drawing small circles against his entrance, forcing the elder's body to open for him.
His lips came to curl against his ear.
“If I want to hurt you, if I want to ravage your ass to the point you're unable to walk for the next few days, then I'll do it, again and again until you learn your lesson, brother.”
A sob of fear escaped Aegon who wanted to turn around, but once again, he was not allowed to do so, placing his hands against the mattress ready to struggle more if his little brother followed through on his threats. He was scared now, as scared as Aemond wanted him to be.
“But that’s not what I want to do to you. It will only be the last solution if the first does not put you in line.” With the tip of his tongue, he gently licked Aegon's earlobe, who shivered, this time with pleasure, and bit his lip, impatient to know what Aemond had in mind. “I’m going to take care of filling your pretty little ass, so full of me that you won’t be able to think about anything else. I’m going to make you cum so hard, feel so overwhelmed submitting to me and loving it, that you’ll never run outside again.”
As he finished his sentence, Aemond gave the elder no chance to respond, pushing his thumb fully into him several times before replacing it with his index and middle fingers, but Aegon leaned further on the bed, trying to escape the intrusion.
“Aemond, it’s too fast…slow down…you’re going too fast.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, the sensation making sweat bead on his body and it only made Aemond's predatory smile widen. “Nothing is ever too much for you, you always want more so believe me, I won’t stop until you are ready to welcome my cock inside you.”
Nibbling his ear now, he reveled in the way Aegon's ass clenched around his fingers and how, when he made a movement that was as calculated as it was precise, Aegon almost cried out with pleasure.
“Shh, there it is, that feels good doesn’t it? Now relax. I love hearing you scream but I want to make sure you're ready to take me inside you, because that's what you're going to do, right? Let me open your perfect ass until my cock can burn you from the inside out.”
A sinister, impatient laugh escaped him. “And you’re going to love it.”
Violently withdrawing his fingers, causing a certain frustration and incomprehension in Aegon, he stood up and quickly freed both of them of the last barriers that the clothes created around their bodies, the last barrier between them.
Aemond's long, thin fingers returned to tangle in his brother's shaggy hair as he stood up, placing the latter's face right in front of his manhood.
“Now make that mouth useful and make my cock nice, hard and wet enough to split you open.”
Aegon knew the moment he met his brother's gaze that this wasn't going to be gentle, that he wasn't going to take the same precautions with his mouth as he did with his ass but decided to not provoke him despite everything.
“Open your mouth, tongue out.”
He obeyed, and when Aemond's cock slid along his tongue, he could taste the salty taste of desire that must have been building in the younger brother during the last few minutes. Finding it strange at first, he began to close his lips around his brother's length and sucked, loving the weight of his desire on his tongue and the murmurs of pleasure it created from him.
His hands came to grip his angular hips and quickly, Aemond made him speed up the movement, guiding his head as he wanted, and when he hit the back of his throat, he felt the heat tightening on him but was surprised not to see Aegon try to fight him off. Instead, he welcomed him as much as possible and let him fuck his face, tears rolling down his cheeks and his lips red and bruised from the assault.
“You do this very well, brother, really well. If I had known that your mouth could one day bring me so much pleasure.”
He chuckled darkly before picking his brother up and throwing him onto the bed. Aegon fell onto his back, panting, his face turned messy just as Aemond found he liked it. “Lie down, grab your legs under your knees and pull them up.”
Since Aegon seemed hesitant, understanding how open and vulnerable the position would make him, Aemond decided to take matters into his own hands, putting them under Aegon's knees and pushing until his knees touched his chest.
“Hold them.”
With an uncertain nod, Aegon obeyed and looked down to see his cock throbbing and leaking, his legs spread and his entrance on full display for his brother. He would then be able to use it exactly as he wished, his shameless eye looking where it would very soon sink into him.
Aemond spat into his hand, making a mental note to bring a more suitable lubricant for the next time because, next time there would be, and spread his saliva along his shaft, slowly before positioning the top of his cock to the entrance to his body.
“Eyes on me when I take what’s mine, watch me fuck you.”
The boldness and confidence of this man would always amaze Aegon, especially after knowing the uncertain and frightened little boy he had sometimes been.
Aegon's gaze locked with his, staring into his single lilac eye as he entered him, pushing all the way in, slowly but without stopping, not giving him time to adjust before he was completely in him, up to the hilt.
The vice of flesh around him was velvet, vibrating and burning and it was the best feeling Aemond had ever experienced. If until now he had already thought about starting again, he was now certain that he would never want to stop.
“Aemond!! It burns!”
“Breathe, love, breathe.” With his fingertips, he brushed back some silver curls that fell on his brother's forehead, caressing him gently just before leaning down and kissing him, swallowing the moan of pain that escaped his lips.
“Your body will get used to me. Let me make you feel good.”
His other hand snaked between their bodies to find his brother's cock and begin stroking it up and down, already finding it hard. With his thumb, he came to play on the top before starting again but still without moving inside of Aegon.
He gave him a few indulgent seconds to adjust, his breath short and his heart pounding, until Aegon's tear-filled eyes soothed and his body relaxed, his hands roaming over his shoulders and he clings to him, nodding gently, giving Aemond the sign he had been waiting for to resume.
His thrusts were precise and deep, as if he were looking for something and, the minute he found it, a catlike smile appeared on his lips as he heard Aegon groan in surprise, his large lilac eyes wide with astonishment, questioning.
“It’s good, right here, hm?
Another thrust and Aegon wondered why he found himself unable to contain his pleasure, why his whole body was numbed by this sensation he had never felt before and which electrified his body with desire.
He could feel his brother's manhood thrusting in and out of him with such force that he wondered if he would ever get up again. “The next time I fuck you, it will be on your hands and knees, and I will make you scream loud, so loud, I can’t wait to ravage your pretty little ass on display just for me.. but for tonight, I want to see your face, and I want to be sure that you see mine at the moment when you are completely lost in pleasure.”
A strange apprehension passed through Aegon's body, a pleasant fear, a promise that made him long for that next time to come.
But soon his thoughts had to cease their wandering, forcibly, because only pleasure had a place in his mind, completely clouded with it, having eyes only for his little brother who had become such a fierce man.
Aegon nodded frantically, tightening his grip on Aemond's shoulders.
“Aemond.. I.. I can’t hold on any longer, I feel weird.”
Of course he felt strange but since no one had ever done this to him before, he could only guess that he was going to cum, not used to feeling it from the inside.
Aemond's smile disappeared, giving way to the seriousness that usually characterized him when he relentlessly tapped, again and again on that spot that made Aegon scream.
“Hu-hu,” he scolded, “If you want to cum, ask politely.”
Aegon growled, hating being ordered around and never having had to belittle himself like this during an intimate act, usually being the one to say his words. However, he obeyed, feeling that Aemond's authority sent other electric and exhilarating waves through his body.
“Please, let me cum, please, please..” he began to whisper like a prayer and it was with indulgence that Aemond responded to his desire, fucking him and stroking his cock on the verge of exploding faster as he was pounding him from the inside.
Aegon arched his back, his breath caught and his moans swallowed by his brother as he came.
He didn't know how long the pleasure lasted through him but he could have put his hand to it as he had never had an orgasm so long and so good, so powerful.
A muffled moan from his plump, bruised lips echoed as his brother withdrew, and when he was finally able to open his eyes again, Aegon rolled onto his side, turning towards Aemond who was lying on his stomach, near him.
“Are you full enough of me to be calm now? Just know that if you’re not, the minute your unruly little mind wakes up again, I’ll be there to fuck you again.”
A slight and almost shy smile appeared on Aegon's face. "Is it a promise?"
This response surprised Aemond who chuckled, crossing his arms under his head to rest his cheek on them and look at him.
Aegon ran his hand through his hair to brush back his light curls then sat up on his elbows, running his fingers over his brother's shoulders.
Since he let himself be done, Aegon continued, going down on his back then placing his hand on his little brother's ass, looking up at him.
“Hmm?” the youngest asked, seeing the interest flash in his brother's eyes but wanting to hear what was on his mind. "What's up?"
Aegon seemed to hesitate for a moment, coming to press a little closer against his brother while continuing to caress his back and ass. “And you, will you let me do it? Will you let me take you?” He had lost his temper at his brother's directives, had let Aemond drag him to their house and use him, use his body as he wished, but now that he was completely sober of fear and apprehension he had felt, his body warming and calming after Aemond had taken care of it, he was regaining confidence.
“After all, baby brother, I’m pretty sure the only gift our parents gave me was a perfect little brother to fuck. Just for me.”
Aemond didn't show it visibly but a little smirk appeared at the corners of his lips, amused at the idea of exchanging roles and even if he had said nothing, neither nodded nor refused, Aegon already knew that the answer was yes.
Summary: Aemond woke up in the middle of the night to hear his brother running from the house, again. He found him and decided to give him what he needed to keep him with him.
Like many nights, Aemond had heard the front door close, trying to be discreet, and while it worked with their parents, it didn’t with him.
Their mother, Alicent, must have been in a deep sleep after drinking several glasses of wine to help down the sleeping pill—the only source of sleep—she took every night, and as for their father, he was too sick to notice anything, delirious in the medical room allotted to him on the other side of the enormous Targaryen estate.
Aemond hated knowing his brother had gone out again, ready to mess around; he would drink too much, sleep with anyone, and be rude to far too many people.
Aemond stared at the ceiling for a moment before sighing and extricating himself from the welcoming warmth of his duvet. If no one else could keep his brother on the straight and narrow, he had to do it. It wasn’t his role as the younger brother, it wasn’t his role at all. But the jealousy and hatred he felt at the mere thought of foreign hands on Aegon’s body were enough to make him get up.
He dressed quickly, all in black—as almost always—pulled on his boots, and started their father’s car, driving to the city center. Finding Aegon wasn’t difficult since he had recently installed a small, invisible, yet effective piece of software that gave him his brother’s precise location at any time of the day or night.
A nightclub- Of course-, built on two floors.
That’s where Aegon had been for almost an hour now, and even in such a short time, Aemond was convinced he’d had enough time to drink or consume some substances capable of altering his faculties and his already poorly sharpened reasoning.
He entered the establishment without any problems, the bouncers stepping aside when they saw him arrive; if his appearance wasn’t enough to get him in, his name was.
Targaryen was a name as feared as it was respected, and Aemond had no qualms about using it, mainly to fetch his brother.
After wandering through several rooms—the GPS location was precise but not to the point of indicating which floor he was on—Aemond finally saw him; he was dancing among other people, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes closed as his body swayed to the repetitive rhythm of the entrancing music.
Aemond should have gone down, cut through the crowd, and taken him away in a minute, but he found himself momentarily paralyzed, hypnotized by what he saw. His elder brother danced with disconcerting ease, moving to the notes as if they were part of him, something Aemond was utterly incapable of doing.
But seeing the many other pairs of eyes fixed on his brother, he frowned and approached. Another was quicker, and before he could grab Aegon, a boy with brown hair was dancing with him, his body pressed against his brother’s.
His brother.
Anger electrified his being, setting his blood on fire and burning his whole body.
Without warning, Aemond seized the other boy and punched him in the face. A fight broke out, and Aegon stepped back, watching the scene as a confused and almost amused spectator.
When the other stopped getting up, simply raising a hand in a sign of surrender, Aemond looked up at his elder brother, his gaze on fire.
“Fuck, Aem, you should relax and... what are you doing here?”
“Shut up and follow me. We’re going home.”
“Home? You must be kidding, I just got here! You don’t like this kind of place, fine, go home and read and forget about me, I won’t be bored here, someone else will take care of me...”
The insinuation behind his words only sent Aemond to another level of anger, and this time he grabbed his brother with force, by the too-large and open collar of his T-shirt, pulling him violently against him. He could smell the vodka and peach, the syrup Aegon preferred with alcohol, he was so close to him, and it made him want to taste his lips.
Not now, he reprimanded himself mentally, not here.
“If you think I’m going to let the first jerk who comes along put their hands on you, you’re delusional. So now you’re going to do what I say and follow me.”
Even if Aegon had wanted to argue and refuse, he had no choice, dragged by force into the cool air that hit him. He was thrown by Aemond onto the back seat before shivering, looking up at him. But the little pill he had taken and the alcohol didn’t allow him to be lucid, not even conscious during the long minutes the return journey lasted.
“Get up. Follow me.”
The voice of his brother pulled him from the thick, cottony sleep he had sunk into. Blinking several times, his bewildered gaze landed on Aemond, who lost patience and grabbed his wrist. He pulled him out of the car, and Aegon, nearly falling, caught himself as best he could, almost ending up in Aemond’s arms.
“Take it easy, I didn’t do anything, no need to be mad...” he mumbled before meeting Aemond's single, furious eye, so angry it made him look away.
He didn't like how his younger brother managed to make him feel so vulnerable, inferior, and powerless. He had been the one to frighten him when they were children and now felt that the tables had turned; Aemond no longer feared him in the least, and worse, Aegon now felt a certain fear in return.
The younger's hand grabbed his face, forcing him to look at him.
“I am the only one to decide if I’m angry about having to search the whole city for my idiot brother who doesn’t have enough sense to take care of himself,” he began, whispering menacingly, pinning him against the car. “I get to decide if waking up in the middle of the night to babysit your sorry ass is a valid reason to be pissed.”
Faced with Aegon's feeble, uncertain growl, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“So now you're going to follow me, and we’re going to settle this once and for all.”
Aegon didn’t know what his brother meant by that and could only nod painfully before being roughly released. He did as he was told, following Aemond with minimal stumbling, guessing it would only anger his brother further. Once at his bedroom door, he reached for the handle, but Aemond was quicker. He grabbed his hand.
“Tsk tsk,” Aemond hissed, tilting his head to the side. “In mine.”
It wasn’t the first time Aegon had gone into his room—he would even come directly to Aemond's bed when too drunk after a night out—but the tone with which he ordered it sparked a strange feeling of unease.
“Listen, Aem, it’s fine, we’re home, you don’t need to take care of me and—”
This time, Aemond’s patience seemed to evaporate; his long, slender fingers tangled in Aegon’s messy hair and dragged him to his room. He threw him onto the floor, starting to remove his leather jacket, smiling slightly at seeing him on the ground, a flash of fear crossing his eyes.
“What’s the matter, brother, is something scaring you?” Aemond knelt to his level and placed two fingers under his chin. “Is it me you’re afraid of?”
“Wh- Don’t be stupid, I have no reason to be afraid of you,” Aegon replied, lifting his head as much as he could but still trying to back away as much as his uncomfortable position allowed.
“I’ve been taking care of you in many ways for a long time, my dear brother, but it seems I’ve missed the best way to do it. Because that’s what you’re looking for every night, isn’t it?”
Not understanding where Aemond was going with this, Aegon furrowed his brows, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother’s too-bright eye, hanging on his words, what he thought he knew about him, understood about him.
Because usually, no one understood him. Why would it be different coming from his younger brother?
How could this calm, composed, attentive, and studious young man, loved by their mother in a way Aegon could only envy from a distance, even begin to imagine what Aegon felt and desired?
Kneeling between his older brother’s legs, one hand firmly gripping Aegon’s tousled hair and the other sliding down his back, Aemond leaned in until their lips barely touched, then slowly let them glide to his ear.
“Attention. You waste your nights roaming these empty, meaningless places, hoping someone will give you that; attention, the very thing you can’t find here. And you hope one of those beings will take an interest in you, see you, maybe even understand you, but I think that desire is a bit too utopian—even for you.”
A shiver ran down Aegon's spine, momentarily stealing his breath, only to return in rapid, jagged gasps. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared Aemond might hear it, and if not already, the sound it made against his chest would betray him.
Aemond's sharp and angular face reappeared before his eyes, sharper than ever, more alive and burning than anything Aegon could recall. “You know I’m right, and it’s such a shame. None of them deserve your nights, your time, your energy, and... your body.”
As he said this, he pressed Aegon closer, causing Aegon's cock to harden involuntarily as Aemond's body nestled between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’ve found the solution. You won’t have to desperately seek attention from strangers anymore. You won’t have to because all my attention will be on you.”
Usually so eloquent and talkative, always ready with a stupid or hurtful remark, Aegon found himself speechless. His lips were parted, his eyes darting between Aemond’s single eye and his thin, moving lips. But before he could make a move, the pale pink lips he was staring at pressed against his.
The kiss was wild but not clumsy; Aemond knew exactly what he was doing, devouring him and claiming his mouth as if it was his due—which he probably thought it was.
Initially letting Aemond lead, Aegon eventually clung to the back of Aemond’s neck and his long, silky hair, groaning and moaning against his lips, letting his tongue dance with his.
He lost all sense of time when Aemond pulled back, his breath also a little short, his features adorned with a more serious expression than ever, like a predator.
Aegon had never seen him like this; he hadn’t realized his brother had grown so much, had changed, gained confidence and maturity, become so attractive and more self-assured than he had ever been. It unsettled him, but he didn’t have time to say anything as he was violently flipped over, ending up still on his knees but bent over the bed, his face on the soft sheets smelling of linden and mint.
In less than a second, Aemond was behind him, his own hardness rubbing against Aegon’s ass, making Aegon bite his lip to stifle a moan. Aemond's mouth attacked his neck, probably leaving purple marks, maybe even bloody ones at times, but Aegon didn’t care; his mind was lost somewhere between desire and shock, still not over what was happening.
“Since you often tell me about your nights of debauchery, I know exactly what you do to others, but, Aegon, I have a question that’s been bouncing around my head for a while.”
While one of his hands was on Aegon’s, the other began its descent along his ribs to gently but possessively caress his stomach under his T-shirt. Aemond felt a distinct shiver on Aegon's soft skin and smiled against his neck, biting again. The moan it elicited from his brother was his reward, prompting him to repeat the action several times.
His wandering hand brushed against Aegon's needy cock but denied him that pleasure, opting instead to grab his ass with force.
“Are you a virgin... here?” he asked, running his fingers along his brother’s ass, leaving no doubt about what he wanted to know. “Has anyone ever taken you? Has anyone ever claimed you? Tell me, Aegon, have you given your pretty little ass to a man?”
At first, Aegon refused to answer, biting his lip harder, but when Aemond's hand caressed him more intimately before moving to his belt, Aegon tried to stand, only to be pinned back against the bed.
“Answer me.”
Aemond's voice was cold and authoritative—just like him—but his body was so warm and desirous, the contrast nearly made Aegon tremble.
“Why do you want to know? It’s none of your business, I—”
Aemond bit him again, all the while stroking his brother's hard cock after unzipping his pants and slipping his hand inside; of course, Aegon hadn’t bothered with underwear, and Aemond found his warmth unexpectedly, to his delight.
“It is my business. You are my brother. So if someone has defiled you, I want to know.”
His strokes quickened, but when Aegon's pleasure was about to burst in his hand, Aemond stopped all movement, smiling sadistically against his ear.
“Answer me.”
Aegon groaned, collapsing helplessly against the bed as he tried to move his hips for any contact with Aemond's hand.
“No.”
“You’re being very stubborn for someone in your position.”
“No, I mean... no, no one has ever fucked me.”
“Oh.”
This revelation stirred a strange sensation in Aemond’s lower abdomen; he had never been harder than at this moment, thinking of his brother's virginity.
“Well, that’s very good. Something in you remains pure and untouched... and since nothing seems to calm or reason you, nothing is ever enough for you, it’s my turn to try and channel that overly fiery spirit in you.”
Aegon was about to turn his head to respond, to try to understand, mostly to try not to understand the implication, but two fingers entered his mouth before he could do so, moving in and out against his tongue. Docilely, he began to suck them, Aemond's other hand resuming its gentle, languorous rhythm on his painfully aroused cock.
His younger brother knew exactly how to play with him to silence him and bend him to his will, and even though the alcohol had numbed his thoughts earlier in the evening, Aegon now found himself sober from any substance since Aemond had started tending to him, and worse still, he felt he was becoming drunk on his brother’s ministrations.
Im reading a book at the moment and it mentioned something that I want to share here:
“Society’s perception of normal is a learned concept. It’s an opinion that was passed down through generations until it eventually became a tradition. It’s rooted in people’s minds because it’s been taught for a long time, but fundamentally, it’s just an opinion. It means nothing just because people conform to it. You being different is fucking fantastic, son. You’ve risen above their sheep mentality and you can choose to be proud of your difference instead of hating it. It might take time to shake off society’s perceptions, but that’s okay.”
Excerpt From God of Fury: A Dark MM College Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 5)
Rina Kent
Summary: Exhausted, trying to balance college student life with multiple shifts working at the small bookstore to make ends meet, you find yourself completely turned upside down when a platinum-haired CEO turns his attention to you.
Anne's note: this story is based on this request from a dear anon. Thanks for this and I hope you like it ;)
Dividers: @v6que
Visual inspiration for Aemond - @catb0yfriend
Rating: Explicit +18
PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
English is not my first language.
Some days, you feel like you're living through pivotal days and never paying enough attention to notice. The days came and went, a constant grind of collegework and double shifts that are so monotonous you would have believed someone had just copied and pasted it into your life. A repetition of more of the same. There were certainly some variations in the faces that passed through the little bookstore you work at, but for every memorable customer there was at least one regular to remind you that your life is subject to an endless routine.
There was only one face that broke the monotonous cycle of your life: a customer with white hair, wearing an eye patch and a gaze so blue that it almost looks purple under the store's warm lights.
Unlike most regular customers, who religiously stop by on their breaks from college and work, his appearance didn't seem to be planned. Sometimes you held your breath and twisted your fingers around each other wondering when he would arrive – because he always appeared at some point. Not every day of couse, after all, no one reads a book a day. But at least once a week.
That your break from the monotony depended on the arrival of an unpredictable customer is not lost on you, but there is something about him that always makes your heart stop. He's unfairly handsome, so much so that you almost forgot how the gift of speech worked the first time he appeared. You never exchanged words other than book requests and recommendations, and that's okay. Judging by the suits and clothes he always wore, it's obvious that he is stupidly rich and way out of your league.
But that didn't stop your heart from stuttering every time he walked through the door, practically exuding wealth and power just by his gait, someone clearly used to commanding an entire room. He always asked your opinion on what he should read this time, so you usually already had your lines planned for when he showed up.
“Good morning, sir”, you used to greet him, already with a book in your hands, ready to start your little, rehearsed speech about why he should really read it.
To which he usually curls his lips into something that looks more like a smirk than a real smile, but is dazzling nonetheless. He would take the book from your smaller hands, not even bothering to leaf through it to see if it was really worth buying (his confidence in your recommendation always made your breathing quicken) and say: “Thank you for this, princess.”
That had always been the extent of the conversation between the two of you, and maybe you were imagining things, but with each passing day it seemed like the heat in his blue eye seemed to grow, the quirk of his lips getting closer to something more genuine.
Breaking the sameness of your days depended on this man. But when he left, you went back to drowning in that sea of repetition and boredom.
But just when you thought you were really going to succumb to the drudgery and exhausting work your life has become, something happens to finally break your routine. A phone call, coming right after your lunch break, where the customer flow is low enough to leave your manager running the store alone, who smiles permissibly.
You enter the back room, frowning when you see the call is from your landlord.
"Hello?"
“Hello, Miss Y/N. This phone call will be accompanied by an email and a letter so you have everything in writing, but I am calling to let you know in advance that we will be increasing the rent on all rentals next month.”
You sigh and close your eyes tightly. "How much will this increase be?"
“For your rent, there will be a monthly increase of 30% of the current value.”
God. You could barely survive on rent, uni bills and daily expenses, and that amount would be almost an entire extra week of work.
“I know times are tough right now, Miss Y/N, that’s why I wanted to give you as much notice as possible. I'm very sorry."
“Thanks for letting me know,” you mumble, not feeling the least bit grateful. You hang up the phone, trying to take a deep breath to regain your composure before getting back to work.
You were doing your best not to panic, wondering how you could afford the rent increase. You were living paycheck to paycheck and didn't have enough saved for a deposit to move somewhere more affordable.
Your head was going crazy, and even though you had tried to get back into customer service, your manager, Catelyn, seemed to understand everything.
“You got some bad news back there, I presume?”
You bit your lip. “Would it be possible to increase my shifts at the store?”
“Increase your shifts?” Catelyn repeated in disbelief. “Honey, you already work twice as hard almost every day. You’re working yourself to the bone as it is.”
“Maybe I could take sundays?”
The older woman narrows her green eyes. “This is your only day off a week, Y/N. When will you have time for uni?”
“I know, I know...but they just raised my rent, Catelyn,” you said calmly, willing your voice not to crack. “I won’t be able to pay uni and rent any other way.”
Your manager pursed her lips. “Let me check the books, maybe we can give you a pay raise. I’ll try everything I can to help, girl.”
You almost lose your grip on your knees at the wave of relief that rushes through your body. “Thank you, Catelyn, really.”
The older woman clicks her tongue, offering you a motherly pinch on your cheek before she slips behind the store, leaving the customer management to you.
You look down the aisles of books, cheeks burning when you realize that he is standing near one of the shelves, blue gaze boring into you intensely. You blush from the roots of your hair to your toes, plastering an apologetic smile on your face.
"My apologies for the wait, sir, I'll show you what I've set aside for you today."
You take on the task of showing him a book you think would interest him, grateful for the distraction and the excuse to duck your head out of his sight, praying he hasn't heard too much of your conversation with Catelyn. The most embarrassing situation of your life.
When you slide behind the counter to collect payment, the real value of the book is replaced by one brilliant Benjamin Franklin. At first, you don't mind, taking the bill from his fingers as you politely ask, "How would you like your change back, sir?"
“Keep it,” he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.
You paused, blinking your eyes wide. Astonished. “You don’t have to do that, sir. It’s very generous, but there’s no need.”
He just smiles, a subtle stretch of his lips, but this one is much more genuine than the others. "I insist. See you next week, princess."
Completely stunned, you split the $100 into the correct change, adding it to the tip jar. “Okay,” you murmur, touched by a stranger’s generosity.
That was until he tried it again the following week.
“Sir, I really can’t accept this,” you say firmly. “It’s very generous.”
He raises a perfectly groomed blond brow. “From what I heard last week, it sounds like you need some extra help.”
“I’m not looking for a benefactor,” you say immediately, cheeks flushing at the assurance that he had heard everything. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting that kind of money from a stranger.”
He just smiles and extends his hand. A large hand, with long fingers adorned with rings that were probably worth more than your apartment, veins high on his pale skin. “Aemond.”
"Sorry?"
“Aemond Targaryen. My name. So now we’re not strangers, right?”
You couldn't help your small laugh of disbelief, reaching out your own smaller hand to shake his. “I'm afraid that knowing your name does little to change the fact that you are a stranger to me.”
It takes him a moment to let go of your hand, and you cough a little to cover it up, shaking your head and handing the change back to him, but you can do little about the fact that he immediately puts the change in the tip jar and continues on his way to the door without saying anything else. Leaving behind only a gentle sway of his long silver ponytail down his back.
The next time he walks in, you point your finger at him threateningly, which he seems to find very amusing, if the raise of his brows and the small smile on his lips said anything. “I won’t recommend any book to you until you promise me you won’t leave me a tip, sir.”
He just tilts his head to the side. “That’s unconventional, I must say.”
You look at him with a heavy gaze, and with a sigh, he relents, raising his palms peacefully. “I promise I won’t tip you, princess. Better that way?"
You huff and turn your face so your hair covers your cheeks, to hide how red you get every damn time he calls you that way. But as you turn towards one of the shelves, you could swear you hear him laughing.
When it was time to get paid, to your relief, he actually didn't tip you. He just squints at you and says, “See you next week, princess.”
In fact, next week, Aemond returns to pay the actual value of the product, much to your peace of mind and his seemingly endless fun. And while you can control the overly generous customer – who at least now has a name – there's still the dilemma of being able to pay your rent and uni bills.
Honestly, sometimes it feels like you're going crazy.
“Would you still say we are complete strangers to each other?” he asks you on a wednesday afternoon.
“Yes, I still consider you one,” you state, raising an brow, your heart slightly racing as it always does in this man’s intense presence.
“What can I do to change this?” Aemond asks, leaning forward. That voice was like sex and sin and made the salivary glands in the back of your mouth yearn for more. He still hadn't paid for the new book – even though there was no one in row of payment, it makes you nervous, as you don't have any excuse to avoid the conversation. “Can I take you to dinner, maybe?”
You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't tempted. But… “Honestly, Aemond, my schedule is crazy. I barely have time to eat a cereal bar, let alone go out to dinner.”
His lips twitched, as if trying not to smile. You can't even imagine what could have been amusing about what you said, but at least he finally handed you the money.
“I think I like it better when you call me sir.”
Something about the implication of those words made you feel like you'd swallowed a hummingbird, and it was still fluttering in your chest. Once again, you pray your blush isn't obvious when you hand him back his change, barely paying attention as he drops it into the tip jar and leaves.
You sigh shakily, allowing yourself to look from beneath your lashes at the man's broad back as he walks away. An arm with defined muscles is raised as his cell phone rings, straining gently against the thin, immaculately pressed white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow as the man begins talking on the phone. Silver hair swinging down the length of his back in its loose style today. Your eyes trail down his other arm which is buried deep in a dark blue pocket of expensive looking pants, pulling the material over the prettiest ass you had ever seen in your life. The man walked with a purposeful swagger that exuded so much confidence that it always left you weak in the knees.
Aemond Targaryen is an unattainable dream.
Totally out of your league.
"What are you reading?"
Your heart skips a beat as you close the book cover with a loud snap, struggling to push it under your chest as you turn to look into your customer's blue eye. Aemond's smile is damning on the best of days, but directed at you now, in this specific situation, as he eclipses the soft light of the hallway entrance behind him - it makes your stomach tighten.
You're still at work, but the book you wanted finally arrived at the store and you couldn't resist reading a little, taking advantage of the slow moving hours...
"No!" You widen your eyes and try to hold the thing in your fingers. But it's too late. Your breath catches against your chest as Aemond pulls the book up and towards him.
“A Court Of Silver Flames, hmm? Princess, I must say I didn’t know you enjoyed this kind of reading.”
You squirm in embarrassment, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth when he effortlessly opens the page you marked and were reading before he caught you in the act. Your face burns, your lips open and then close in abject horror as Aemond's single eye scans the filthy words of the book. His smile is particularly mischievous as he mutters: 'Cassian pounded into her, a hand moving from her hip to her hair, tugging her head back, baring her throat. She gave herself over to it, to him, and the lack of control was so heady, so pleasurable that she could barely stand it. He thrust harder, so deep with this angle that she might have been screaming again, she might have been crying.' - Y/N, darling...I'm blushing."
“You – this, this is none of your business.” you grumble with a frown, trying to reach for the book as he stifles a laugh at the sight of your futile effort. "Besides, I can read whatever I want. I'm an adult."
The smile slowly diminishes on his pretty lips until there is only a slightly mischievous line left, something that is hardly comforting. Dangerous. Even hungry.
"You're absolutely right." He hums slowly, closing the book and holding it out for you to take with a raise of his brow. "You're a big girl, right?" You lift your head to look at him, meeting his warm gaze. The way he asked that question, God. Low and almost animalistic, like a predator that is just stalking its prey. Playing before attacking.
You swallow hard and for a moment both just look at each other. His blue glow is dark as he studies your face with interest, searching for something you can't even begin to guess what it is. Finally, you shyly look away from him and turn to face your collection of books.
“Are you looking for anything in particular tonight, sir?” you ask, deliberately trying to change the subject, not supporting the tense atmosphere that had formed between the two of you.
He hums contently and you feel his gaze finally move away, allowing you to breathe once more. You smooth your hands over the folds of your skirt in an effort to stop the trembling in your fingers.
"Yes, actually yes. There. Pride and Prejudice, the first edition," Aemond states, bending down a little to point to one of the novels stacked among the others. “I'm looking to complete my collection of Austen's works. 'I'll be unhappy if I don't have an excellent library.'”
Oh.
“Huh, I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type of guy,” you joke, lightly bumping your hip against the side of the bookshelf. “Although I think you can identify with some of the characters. ‘A single man possessing a good fortune’ and all that.”
He laughs softly, standing up straight and looking back at you. “What can I say? I have a bit of a weakness for classic romance.”
"You? A romantic?" You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at him. “I would really like to see that.” your comment is provocative and amusing, spoken only to lighten the mood. But Aemond doesn't see it that way, apparently.
He stays quiet. Something undeniably shifts in the air as he slowly takes a step towards you to close the distance between the two of you. You look up at him with a shaky sigh and lean against the shelf with an awkward, unsure step as he lowers his head slightly towards you. He looks at you intently. Closely.
"You could?"
You find yourself backing further and further into the shelf behind, your breathing quickening. His arm slides to your side, pinning you against the stacks of books, the long black coat held in the crook of his other arm. You feel his all-masculine weight pressed against you. A delicious and unmistakable aroma of fresh mint, as well as something woody and earthy, envelops your senses like a soft blanket.
“M-Maybe,” you murmur, your slightly wide eyes sweeping over every inch of his inhumanly perfect face, his mysterious eye patch. His soft lips come so close to yours that you can feel him exhale. You close your eyes, preparing to feel his mouth on yours, but instead you feel his face brush against your cheek and you feel his warm breath brush past your ear.
“I could show you,” he purrs as you melt against him - like he’s not a stranger and like you’re not on your fucking work schedule. “I could take care of you, princess. In many, many ways. I would like to do that. I just do things a little...differently than the traditional way,” the last sentence leaving it like a whisper, like a secret. Every inch of your skin tingles as all of your body's feelings seem to focus on the spot between your legs. Your back arches and your nipples ache, straining where his broad chest crushes against yours. You tilt your head back, resting it on the shelf behind, exposing your neck to him. You shudder as you feel his warm bottom lip barely touching the sensitive skin there, a gentle whisper from a caring lover - or a cruel tease from a wicked man. The smallest of moans escape your lips.
And then, he stops.
Aemond straightens his posture and removes his arm from your side. The black turtleneck sweater perfectly hugs his upper body as he straightens up, the dark pants emphasizing the generous length of his legs. He runs his hand through the smooth, silver length of his hair once and takes a deep breath. As if he was seeking some sense of calm. You shiver and swallow hard, your eyes traveling over the pale expanse of his forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater, the veins beneath his skin, the chain around his neck, the expensive watch on his wrist, the long fingers studded with rings...
He's so 'man' it makes your legs weak. If that made any sense.
“But don’t worry, I promise I won’t touch you until I have your legal permission. After all, we need to talk before that,” he states slowly. "Right?" his intense blue gaze refocusing on yours.
You fidget nervously against the bookshelf, playing with the hem of your skirt, your heart beating fast like the wings of a hummingbird.
"Talk about what?" You manage to ask, even though your mind is spinning at the man's unexpected proximity.
He seems to think a little.
"How have you been?" He asks genuinely after a few seconds of silence, looking at you with some concern. “Is college going well? Are you getting enough sleep?"
"Sleep? What is that?" you joke to lighten the mood, though the stern expression doesn’t leave Aemond’s face. You continue: “College is fine. I took two tests this week, but I'm satisfied with my performance. I studied a lot over the weekend.”
“Between the few breaks between working several shifts in a row, you mean,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “You really need to take care of yourself, Y/N. I'm worried about you."
You feel a small tug in your chest as you smile softly. He's worried about you. He, this man oozing wealth and experience from his pores, is thinking of you.
“I could help, you know,” he continues, staring at you and all you can see on his face is sincerity.
What is he looking for, anyway?
"Like what?" you ask, almost shaking with anticipation. You look up to meet his gaze, the air between the two of you becoming almost thick with anticipation.
“As you've probably guessed, I have an abundance of wealth,” he states matter-of-factly, as if asserting that the sky is blue, “but not much to spend it on. So I met you a few months ago." You swallow hard as Aemond continues, “The truth is, I'd like to make sure you're being taken care of, Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you allowed me to do that."
“What do you mean,” you ask anxiously, “by 'taken care of’?”
“I want to ensure that your college expenses will be taken care of in full,” he replies confidently when you almost choke on your saliva, “both the remaining tuition and loan balance, as well as rent and any other bills you may owe. You would also receive a weekly allowance, which would allow you to just focus on finishing your course without having to work. Although I believe you enjoy working here and don't want to give up all your shifts. Anyway, that should start to cover the bases, right?"
"To start? What else could you want to say?!” you exclaim breathlessly, looking at him in disbelief.
He laughs softly, “Well, princess, there are gifts I would like to give you from time to time. I would really like to provide anything you want or need. Clothes, shoes, books,” he smiles along with the last word. “Anything that makes you happy. I want you to feel comfortable.”
You notice that your mouth has been dry, open easily for a good full minute. You urgently need a glass of water.
Why you? What does he gain from this? What does he want in return?
“And all of this would be in exchange for…?” you question, waiting for the decisive follow-up.
“Your company.” He responds, slowly and seriously. You raise an eyebrow at his response, your stomach sinking with a sensation that is both warm and cold.
The talk comes to a pause when your cell phone screams, startling you and indicating the store's closing time. You shake your head.
"I-I need to close the store. Do you mind...could you...?" Even the words are jumbled in your mind.
"Don't worry. I'll wait." Aemond smiles understandably, stepping aside so you could begin the closing routine.
The gaze is on you every step of the way, from the moment you check the cash register, to when you pick up the keys to lock the door.
“Allow me...” He whispers when you finish and grab your coat, the chilly breeze outside sending goose bumps across your skin. You nod shyly, letting him help you put on your coat, his fingers lingering a little longer than they should on your skin. "How do you plan to get home?"
Nervousness churns in your stomach as the two of you walk down the sidewalk, your hand just inches from his. The breeze hits the sensitive skin of your ears, though you can't do anything but focus on the strange wall of heat between the two of you, arms close enough to accidentally brush every now and then. Or is it on purpose?
"Uber." You answer.
"I think so. Come on, my driver will drop you off at home." He doesn't really give you time to respond, but you still gasp when you suddenly feel the gentle presence of his sizable hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards a stupidly modern black car. He nods to the driver, who politely opens the back door for the two of you to get in.
The interior of the car is cozy and as sophisticated as the outside, with a partition that separates the place where you are and the driver.
You mumble your address and Aemond repeats it to the driver, using an internal type of communication.
Aemond Targaryen is like Bruce freaking Wayne.
Not wanting to drop the previous topic, you whisper hesitantly, “So…exactly what does ‘my company’ entail in this case?”
“Of course,” he continues, chuckling lightly at you for returning to the subject of your own free will. “I would like to see you three times a week at least. Our time together will be treated with the utmost privacy. My priority is to keep you protected from the public eye. All power in this arrangement begins and ends with you, Y/N. You can choose to break the contract at any time. At that point, you can keep anything given to you, and all canceled debts will remain that way, without any refund.”
“And during the time we spent together?” you question, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Any activity of a sexual nature,” he responds, his blue gaze suddenly a little darker, “will be confidential and, most importantly, consensual. I've already asked my lawyer to email you the paperwork."
How the hell did he know your email?!
His head is spinning. Paperwork? Activity of a sexual nature? This all seems intimidating, yet somehow you remain intrigued. Curious.
“Don’t worry,” he states calmly, his hand resting on top of yours. Your panic must have been noticeable. You look up and see him looking at you gently. He resumes: “Paperwork it's like a protection for both of us. It's a basic confidentiality agreement, along with some negotiation about what you would feel most comfortable with. As I said before, if you choose this, I want you to be able to leave at any time without any losses. I've seen too many relationships destroyed by fame and notoriety. I don’t want this to hurt you too.”
You can already feel like you're going to say yes.
You look at him shyly as he removes his hand and settles next to you on the bench. You remember when you felt his warm breath on your neck in the back of the bookstore. His smell. Of the silver hair. You want that if it means being with him. If it means you can prove what he can offer. And on top of all that, you would still be taken care of, your debts would be paid off, and the weight of possibly being homeless would finally be lifted from your mind and shoulders. You can feel your body practically taking advantage of the opportunity, but you hold back for one more question.
"Have you done this before?" You ask, feeling some strange kind of jealousy bubbling in your stomach. “Were there others?”
You can see some concern behind his one eye as he hesitates, but then he blinks and replies, “Yes. There were two others. The first only lasted a few months. She only agreed to the deal to get “to the top,” so to speak. As soon as I realized that she had tried to leak confidential information to the press about our relationship, I immediately terminated our agreement.”
"And the other?" You press, brow furrowed in concern.
“The second one lasted about a year,” Aemond responds. “She chose to end the arrangement out of love, after meeting her now husband. We respectfully agreed to end things so she could move forward with this connection. It’s been a few years since we split up.”
This raises another important question.
“Huh, how old are you?” you ask, tilting your head.
Aemond snorts in amusement.
"Thirty-two."
Okay, ten years apart. It is not a big deal.
“I…” you mutter thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I’d like to give you some time to think about this,” Aemond suggests, as you stare at your hands. “How about 48 hours? You can review the paperwork and contact me with any questions you may have.”
You turn your head to look at him, lip between your teeth as you assess his countenance. After all, he could just be messing with you, and you could die of embarrassment if you agreed only to find out he was making fun at your expense. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, however. It's enough to warm you deeply as you watch him watch you, his desire so palpable it leaves you breathless. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips and his eye go to your mouth.
This is the exact moment you abandon all reason and nod, a silent response to his offer of help.
“Yes,” you declare, quickly, hastily. “I mean, my answer. Yes. I'm in."
“Y/N,” he raises a blonde brow at you charmingly, something seductive behind his gaze. “I insist that you use the full 48 hours. I want to know that if you agree to this, when I have you, I will have all of you. No hesitation. Undoubtedly."
When I have you. Heat rises up the sides of your neck at the implication of those words. No hesitation.
“But -” you almost whimper, fingers tightening on the hem of your skirt.
“Y/N,” he utters in a low, deep tone, leaning toward your ear and placing a firm, warm hand on your knee. You feel goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms. "Think about it calmly. Be a good girl for me, huh?"
You freeze and a small moan leaves your lips. He smiles at you seductively, his finger brushes the soft skin of your cheek and your breath catches. His smile is almost imperceptible, but it's there. Like a feline cornering a prey.
So close you can smell his cologne again. Mint and sandalwood. You think it suits him, like a dark forest, but fresh and refined. You swallow hard, wishing that blue/violet gaze, so austere, would look anywhere else. You feel completely overwhelmed by his intensity, and he was making it impossible to think straight.
“I think you’re doing this on purpose.” You whisper into the tiny space between the two of you.
“Doing what on purpose?” He practically purrs the words.
Maybe it was the adrenaline of the situation that was coursing through your veins, but you find yourself blurting out, “Trying to make me regret your promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
His predatory expression doesn't change. "And do you regret my promise?"
It's a step too far for you to actually admit, but your silence is, in fact, admission enough. The smile that appears on his face makes you blush, especially when he leans in so close you can feel his breath, his mouth hovering right next to your ear.
“I take my promises very seriously, princess.” His voice is low, with a scratch so sensual it almost made you whimper. “So, I will keep my hands to myself until such time as our contract is properly signed. But that doesn’t mean you have to.”
You what?
He walks away with a wink, leaving you stunned as you contemplates his offer.
Would it be inappropriate to pursue something with him? It's too early? But to deny that you've wanted him from the moment he walked into the bookstore, when he seemed like a fantasy far out of your reach - would be a blatant lie. It's obvious he has money. A stupid amount of it, more than you'd see in your entire life, probably. It's also obvious that he likes you. It's not that bad to accept his stupidly luxurious gestures if you like him too, right? In a list of immoral things, don't you think this is the worst. You would not be compromising your core values.
You bite your bottom lip.
“You’re driving me crazy doing this,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts to see his gaze fixed on the way you’re biting your lip. He closes his eye for a few seconds and then looks at you again. “I have no expectations or demands for you, dear. I just want to help and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman I've admired for a long time, so I can get to know you a little better."
"How much time?" you find yourself asking.
“From the moment I walked into that bookstore and looked into those beautiful bright eyes. For your cute skirts and funny colored sweaters. You are stunning, princess.”
No one has ever described her that way.
“Tell me something about how you feel about me,” he asked; in his honeyed and serious tone. "Just one thing."
You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the truth you've never spoken out loud before, to anyone. “I-I wait for you to come in almost every day. I know it's silly because we barely talked before, but...every time the store bell rings I look up hoping it's you, and I'm disappointed when it's not."
He digests your words calmly.
“It’s not just me then,” he breathes after a few seconds.
“No,” you whisper, barely believing it. "It is not."
You barely notice that the car is stopping, having probably already arrived at your apartment building, what has settled between the two of you is something dense and heavy, too heavy to allow you to pay attention to your surroundings. It almost feels suffocating. Your eyes meet and you almost read the challenge that shines in his. The look that seems to say: 'are you bold enough, darling?'
Really, how many times have you made the safer choice because it was convenient? Because it was less scary? You could probably count on one hand how many risks you've taken in your life and none of them had as much to gain as the risk that was currently in front of you, smiling as if he had read your decision before you even made it.
Because all it took was a single movement of his tall body to adjust himself better on the expensive upholstery of the car, and you were in his lap. "I should be worried about you putting your hands on me, apparently." He breathes a laugh.
You playfully touch the long chain resting on his chest, sliding your fingers along it until touch the fabric of the sweater collar around his neck. "Are you saying you want me to take my hands off, sir?"
He hums, slowly and low.
“Far from it, darling. I want those hands and that pretty mouth anywhere you want to put them.”
At this point, you hardly need more encouragement than that. The fabric is pulled down, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone that you immediately trace with your mouth, leaving soft stains of your strawberry lipbalm that you're sure he'd wear as badges of honor. Aemond grunts in approval, tilting his head to offer you better access to his neck, so that's where your lips meet next. Then your teeth. Then your tongue.
You can taste a slightly salty taste on his skin, almost as addictive as his cologne, which is strongest where your face presses against his pulse. Your hands search the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his sweater. You pull away from his neck, smiling shyly at the love bite you left behind before meeting Aemond's intoxicating gaze. His hands are fisted tightly in the upholstery of the bench.
“I may have promised to behave, baby,” he reflects slowly. “But I will remember every little bruise you leave for me. Just in case I have the opportunity to pay it forward for them. So be careful right now."
You wonder, suddenly, if his fists are clenched as a form of self-control. Anticipation flows like an earthquake throughout your body.
He watches you very carefully as your smile evolves into something more teasing, something more sly and decidedly cheeky, but when you bend down to continue your bites, he clicks his tongue in the same way an adult would scold a child. A warning. A sound that begs not to be ignored. Part of you is tempted to press on, just to see what he would do, but the other...the other wants to hear him call you a good girl again. Then you blink your eyes apologetically and gently kiss the small bruise on his smooth alabaster skin.
“Good decision, baby, being a such good girl for me. I'll remember that too."
You couldn’t help but love the implication that there would be more, that Aemond was already planning what he would do to you when that happened. You have a sneaking suspicion that he won't have that much control then, a sneaking suspicion that this man definitely wouldn't take on any submissive role - in any aspect of his life.
You lean forward, fingers on the soft fabric of his sweater once again as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck, moving up to his ear, breathing hotly against his skin until you feel him goose bumps.
You pinch his lobe. “And what do I get for being a good girl?”
His lips twitch into a teasing smile. “A bold question for someone who is supposed to be a good girl, don't you think? But you’re still learning what I like, I suppose.”
You hum something sweet and soothing, submissive. “And what exactly do you like, daddy?”
Aemond immediately goes rigid beneath you, and for a moment you panic. Were you wrong when you said that? It felt so natural that the word slipped out completely before you could think more clearly. But then Aemond practically growls as he spreads his knees beneath you, forcing you to move until you're straddling a single leg of his.
“Good girls can ride daddy’s thigh.”
He pushes his leg up until you shudder, applying pressure to your clit that almost makes you cry.
He continues, as if he isn't just rubbing the defined muscle of his thigh against your pussy. “Forgive me,” he says, his face lowering to the side of your neck, “but I have to…”
Your eyes close as he approaches. You expect to feel his lips finally meet your skin, but once again, he stops short of reaching. Instead, he inhales deeply, right under your ear.
“Vanilla,” he murmurs against your skin. You lean your head back even further, your skin begging for his touch. “And cinnamon.”
You whimper, rubbing gently against his thigh, breathless.
“You,” you whisper, pulling the hem of your skirt up, "aren't you going to kiss me?"
You watch his jaw tighten and his expression turn hard as he stares out the window for a second. “Fuck, girl. I already said that I prefer to wait until everything is resolved. I want you to be fully aware of everything this entails, everything you are getting yourself into, before you get any further involved with me.”
You can't think of anything you'd like more than to be involved in every position with him.
“But I said yes,” you lament. Driven purely by desire, you rest your hands just above both of his shoulders, lips tracing the outside of his ear. “I want you, daddy. You do not want me?"
He groans beneath you and you can feel him lift his hands, reaching out to touch you but stopping just before they come into contact with your back. Instead, he pushes them back down, one hand gripping the door handle for dear life while the other closes his fist against the seat once more.
“Yes, shit, yes” he grinds through clenched teeth. “I want you so bad, Y/N. But I can't. Not yet. I want to do this right.”
"Do you really want me?" You whimper, inches away from his mouth, pressing yourself firmly against his leg, seeking any kind of friction.
“Y/N,” he moans as you grind against him, the thin, wet cotton of your panties barely acting as a barrier between his thigh and your sex. "Can't you feel how much I want you, baby? You have no fucking idea. I want to do eviel things to your little body. I've been showing so much restraint. You can't fucking say that?"
Holy hell.
It's true, you think. You can feel him, hard and thick against his black pants, as you press into him. Your nipples harden against your breasts as you move faster, gripping the back of the seat for support as the tension builds inside you. You've never had a partner this big before and you briefly wonder if you can fit him in your mouth. You were certainly tempted to try.
"Already drooling on daddy's cock, baby?" he murmurs, noticing the look in your eyes. “My fucking God, you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? You barely finished riding my thigh and you already wants more."
His words make you blush. You're close, though. Especially if he keeps talking like that. The noises that escape you as you writhe against his thigh, staring at the shape of his cock and imagining what it would feel like inside you...The sounds were mortifying, to say the least, but the swirling desire in Aemond's gaze says he likes them.
Your breath begins to hitch as your pleasure gets closer and closer to that sweet pinnacle, his muscular thigh providing the perfect amount of pressure. You tilt your head back and moan, long and loud, as you snake your hand to pinch your nipple through your bra.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his breathing only slightly uneven, but his hands are clenched painfully at his sides. “Are you going to cum like this, princess? Rubbing your wet pussy against me in the back of my car? All because you can't just wait until you sign a simple piece of paper?”
“Oh my god,” you scream silently, something thrilling about someone being mere feet away from the two of you, behind the partition, as Aemond whispers the dirtiest words into your ear.
Aemond snapped his fingers as you felt yourself reaching the edge, and it drew your attention back to him as your legs shook. His blue gaze was burning. “Look at daddy when you come get me. Say my name, baby."
“Aemond,” you moan, the word barely formed as you rub desperately against his leg. You scream as the pleasure peaks, and the warm white light of the stars floods your veins.
“Daddy,” you pant, as Aemond takes over the work for you, moving his thigh to bring you to orgasm until you half collapse against him, burying your face in his shoulder as he continues moving his leg. “S-sir, please.”
“Please what, princess?”
“It’s too much,” you complain, shaking now as Aemond begins to stimulate you right after your orgasm.
“You can do it,” he encourages. "Don't you want to be a good girl for daddy?"
“I want it,” you whimper.
He hums thoughtfully. “I know you want it, Y/N. Maybe you can do something else for daddy, then. To make up for the mess you made on my thigh.”
With his thigh pressure now easing, you could have sobbed with relief. You sit up, watching with renewed interest as he runs his fingers through the wet spot on his pants and promptly brings it to his lips.
You gasp and he sucks on his fingers with a flourish that could belong to a satisfied customer at a fancy restaurant, smiling at you. “You are absolutely delicious, baby. Exactly as I expected."
You might have fainted if you didn't feel like you were already at the point of no return.
“Now,” said Aemond, sliding the full intensity of his gaze to your parted lips. “How would you feel if you tasted daddy in return, huh?”
You had been thinking about it since the moment you saw his outline through his pants. Maybe you fell to your knees on the floor of the car with great anxiety, but you smile shyly at the way he smiles at your gesture and tells you 'what a good girl you are for doing that'. You watch as he spreads his knees and leans back, giving you wide access to his lap.
In a different context, you would have thought he looked like an idiot with a huge, self-obsessed ego. But maybe that's why you adore him, after all.
With the care of someone opening a beautifully wrapped gift, you slowly unbutton his pants and free Aemond's hardened length from his boxers. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of the pre-cum that glistens on the tip of his pink head, like a drop of water on a flower petal.
Settling comfortably between his thighs, this is the first thing you decide to taste, holding it on your tongue as if it were your personal candy. Aemond grunts, his eye squinted beside his eye patch, watching you with laser focus. You decide to stick out your tongue to proudly show off the pre-cum wetness there, humming contentedly as you hear him growl (GROWL) as you swallow and return your lips to his head.
He's even bigger than you imagined.
Working up the courage to shove him down your throat, you start by first swirling your tongue along every inch you can find, covering him with what's left of your strawberry lipbalm. The guttural noise Aemond makes in his throat is worth it, and when you deem him adequately covered in saliva, you begin the process of taking him into your mouth.
Although he hasn't expressed his direct approval yet, you already know he loves it by the involuntary twitch of his hips. With the softest smile, you wrap your fists around his base, trying to move your mouth and hand in tandem as you slowly ease him down your throat.
You pause when you're halfway through, already fighting your gag reflex. Your eyes flicker to his, feeling proud when you notice that his cheeks are slightly flushed and his breathing is faster.
“You look so pretty with your lips around my cock, baby,” he murmurs, nothing but awe in his voice. “Do you think you can take more?”
You nod, the movement making him groan as you rock a little further down his length. “That’s it, baby,” he said, moving his hips slightly to encourage you to take more. “Just relax for daddy, you’re almost there.”
He thrusts his hips, with a little more force this time, and it made you choke when he scratched the back of your throat. Aemond curses vehemently. “Fuck, baby. I love watching you choke on my cock.”
Tears well up in your eyes as you fight to relax against your gag reflex, opening your mouth as wide as you can to take the rest of him. When your nose brushes against his soft strands of light hair, and he is fully seated, Aemond delivers a dirty litany of praise that has you humming with pride.
“So good for me, girl,” he grunts, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Your sweet little mouth feels amazing around daddy's cock."
You hum in agreement, because every time you do it seems to draw a string of curses from Aemond. He's fucking into your mouth with abandon now, and you've done your best to keep your jaw open and tongue relaxed. Although every time you choke, he seems to love it. And you start drooling down your chin, messing up the leather seat below - he seems to love that too.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he warns, his voice rough. “Swallow for daddy like a good girl.”
You comply readily, holding his dark gaze as he spills his release down your throat. You take extra care to make sure not a drop spills, and when he withdraws, you extend your clean tongue to him, making him chuckle with something akin to affection.
“That was amazing, baby,” Aemond whispers, voice softening. He leans forward as if he's going to kiss you, but hesitates. Instead, he offers you a smile. "You did so well."
You're not sure how much time passes as he pulls you to lie against his broad, warm chest, but your post-orgasm haze is broken at some point when you mutter that you really need to go upstairs and feed your cat - the grumpy little creature already must be scratching all your furniture demanding food.
Aemond smiles softly against your hair and gently lifts you off his lap and sets you aside as he gets out of the car. You try to compose yourself to a point before he opens the door and holds out his hand to help you. As you do, you avoid his gaze, starting to feel some sort of embarrassment at your behavior in the backseat before he lifts your chin with a finger.
“Thank you,” he says gently, “for sharing this with me. I hope it happens again someday.”
You blush as he presents his arm for you to hold. He walks you down the walkway to the door of your building and looks at you again.
“Think about it, Y/N,” he states with a warm gaze on you. “48 hours, minimum. Regardless of how you decide to proceed then, know that I enjoyed every minute I spent with you.”
“I promise, I’ll think about it,” you say sincerely. You marvel at the length of his eyelashes as he looks down at you, how they almost brush his pointy cheekbone. The icy breeze swayed the long length of his silver strands around his face and shoulders.
He's beautiful.
“Thank you,” he smiles modestly, delivering you to your door. “Good night, Y/N. Get some sleep, please?"
“I’ll try,” you respond, standing on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. A small expression of surprise crosses his face as you turn to open the door. “Good night, Aemond.”
He raises an brow and twists his lips sarcastically and you struggle to hold back a smile as you close the door.
Your bright, deep eyes dance across your eyelids as you try to fall asleep that night.
Summary: One evening, when Aegon forbids Daeron from going to a dangerous party in a Casino, Daeron disobeys and must face the consequences that entails.
*Can be read on its own but part of a complete story*
Warnings: DUBCON/NONCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, spanking/belt spanking, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, anal fingering, oral m receiving, anal sex, sub/dom, toxic behaviour, Sub!Daeron, Dom!Aemond, Dom!Aegon, begging, Daeron is 18yo.
Rating: 18+, MDNI
English is not my first language.
Aegon had told him, clearly -without subtitles, without maybe- not to go to this party in a casino. He already knew that his little brother was going to play, cheat - cheat too well - and that he would have to arrive to save him before he got beaten up.
“I swear, Daeron, can you hear me? I swear if you go, Aemond will take care of you.”
The elder had been clear.
And yet, Daeron had gone to that party, played a lot, cheated a lot, and won a lot.
Out of respect for the dragons - and probably out of fear - one of the organizers had called Aegon to give him a chance to come and pick up his little brother before others did.
Less than an hour later, Aegon had arrived with their driver, thanked the other man for calling him and took his brother, without a word, home.
He hadn't done anything the entire trip but sent a few messages without even looking up at Daeron who was staring out the window wordlessly.
----------------------------
When the door to Aegon's main residence closes, Daeron raises his head. “Go ahead, yell at me, say something, it’s worse when you say nothing.” He says, spreading his hands. But the eldest doesn't respond, grabbing him by the wrist and taking him upstairs, to the largest bedroom. He pushes him in and closes the door, leaning against it with a raised eyebrow. Daeron frowns, not understanding what he's hoeing and turning to. His body tenses. Aemond is in front of him. The youngest swallows and turns to Aegon, as if for help.
“Aegon, why is he here?” He asks, his voice slightly trembling; he has not forgotten the dark promise of their eldest, he remembers it but he hopes so much that he was just saying that to scare him. Daeron loves his brothers, both of them, but he can so easily become afraid of Aemond.
“Aegon I swear, I’m sorry I-”
Two large hands rest on his shoulders, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Daeron shakes his head no, almost imperceptibly, looking Aegon straight in the eyes, still hoping that he will lift the sanction and, when Aegon comes towards him, putting his hand behind his neck, Daeron still has hope.
“You don’t seem to understand when I’m the one scolding you. And if I do it you tonight, I won’t be able to stop fucking you.” He told him darkly, as if he had to hold back. “I’ve been taking care of you for too long, you don’t fear me enough and you’re putting yourself in danger.”
Daeron opens his mouth to respond but the hands on his shoulders squeeze him; the claws of a bird of prey which prevent him from moving.
“Take off your clothes.”
A voice near his ear, shivers of horror run through him. “I swear, I won't go back, please, Aegon -” He turns around, facing Aemond, his eyes filling with tears. “Aemond, please, I swear I –” Aemond’s hand closes around his face, cupping it almost too tenderly, a frightening contrast to the tone of his voice.
“Don’t make me say it twice.”
Daeron closes his eyes briefly, just long enough to collect himself, take a breath, and nod.
What other choice could he possibly have? He did something stupid, Aegon had warned him, he must take responsibility now.
The youngest takes off his clothes, without meeting the gaze of his brothers who watch him do so with an inquisitive look for one and a hungry look for the other.
As soon as he finds himself naked, Aegon grabs him by the neck and pushes him against his large, vast desk. “Put your hands on the desk, lean over.”
Maybe it's better that way, Daeron says to himself, because bending over his brother's lap, it would have been even more humiliating. He does so and places his hands flat on the wood, his breathing is short, shallow; the wait is worse than anything and when the sound of a belt is heard right behind him, he tenses.
Aegon always uses his hands.
It seems that this is not the case for Aemond, or has he really exceeded the limits given to him.
Aegon takes a heavy and magnificent armchair, coming to sit next to him, just to the side to watch the scene, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his legs apart; the bastard already knows he's going to like the show.
He nods at his brother and Aemond does the same, raising his arm and bringing the leather down against the tender skin of the younger boy’s ass. “Hn..” Just one painful breath and, three blows later, his alabaster skin is marked with red stripes.
Being in a creative mood, Aemond decides to make this lesson anchored on a larger part of Daeron’s being, starting to hit harder and harder; his ass, his back, the tops of his thighs.
Daeron is a brave boy, but when color flashes wherever Aemond coldly strikes, he lets out groans of pain, hands clenched on the wood, cheeks soaked with tears.
Aemond can continue like this for as long as necessary but it is then that Aegon gets up; until now he hasn't moved, one hand holding the glass which he quickly finished, the other between his legs, kneading the budding erection. That's why he's not the one doing this.
He whispers something in his brother's ear then comes closer to Daeron, caressing his cheek. “Good boy, shh.. he’s going to drop the belt.” Daeron thinks his elders are done with him but Aemond's hand on his hip does not reassure him, and as he tries to turn his head to look, Aegon grabs his face, shaking his head no.
And this time, Aemond uses his hand.
The pain is different, almost intimate, too intimate, Aemond’s hand stings with each blow he gives him, but he doesn't stop.
However, something changes; between each spanking, he caresses his ass, gently.
"I'm sorry !" Daeron says suddenly, as if the gentleness was worse than the belt, the closeness of his two brothers worse than when one struck from afar and the other watched. Without a smile, with the most serious look Aegon can muster, he leans in and kisses Daeron on the lips before pulling back just enough to speak to him.
“Soon you’re really going to be sorry.”
Aemond continues, the hand on his brother's hip stroking him with his thumb, as if to encourage him to hold on. “If he hadn’t come for you, do you know what they could have done to you?” Aemond asks coldly, but no logical thought can decently come to life in Daeron's mind who shakes his head. “Stop, please, I’m sorry, I’m so..sorry - Ah!”
Aegon and Aemond only exchange a look and yet it is enough for the youngest to feel thrown to his knees on the ground.
Aemond holds him by his hair as he comes to kneel behind him. He no longer hits him, but his other hand caresses him all over the surface of his pretty, perfect young ass, as if to admire by touch the marks he has left on him.
"In his mouth." Orders Aegon, coming in front of the youngest who does not really understand what is going to happen, his elders seeming to communicate telepathically.
Aemond reluctantly raises his hand - he loved to caress his baby brother and witness the art he carved on his flesh - and forces him to open his mouth, two of his fingers caressing his tongue.
Daeron licks and sucks instinctively, watching as Aegon opens his pants just enough to pull out his thick cock, the tip red with excitement, precum leaking with need.
Aemond presses his tongue and Dearon has no choice but to open wider, his breath getting shorter and shorter as he understands; Aegon puts his cock between his lips, blowing out a “fuck” of pleasure as he begins to fuck Daeron’s mouth along with Aemond's fingers.
“Breathe.” Aemond orders him, moving his fingers at the same time as their eldest, drenching Daeron's chin. He moans when Aegon's cock touches his throat, or Aemond's fingers - or maybe both - but Aemond whispers words to calm him or rather soft and deep little "shh".
When Aemond withdraws his fingers, Daeron thinks he is rid of half of the torture but it is only to better feel them slip between his ass and enter roughly, stretching him from the inside. This makes him moan on Aegon's cock who bites his lips: it feels so good. “There you go, keep it up; show us how sorry you are, what a good boy you are, show us how you will be obedient next time.”
To his utter terror, Daeron realizes that he is rock hard, shaking and choking on Aegon's cock. He should blame himself for getting hard now, but Aemond's fingers work wonders inside him, pressing just hard enough where he needs it, moaning desperately against their elder.
Everything is painful, so painfully good that it's almost too much. Aemond's hot breath against his ear, the burning sensation when he feels his little puckered hole being abused as much as his mouth, his throat bruised. His entire body bears the burning marks of his brothers' anger. And he accepts his punishment with courage, his heart beating in his chest, so loud he can feel it in his ears.
Suddenly, Aemond speeds up, slamming his fingers into him so hard that he smacks his ass with the flat of his hand with each thrust, making him scream at Aegon who finds it even better.
Of course, Aegon doesn't warn him, and Daeron is too stimulated to notice the warning signs when he feels warm, thick liquid filling his mouth. Aegon pulls back, finishing on his lips, dirtying his cheeks then clamping his hand over his mouth so he can't spit it out.
Daeron almost chokes but he swallows, the tears on his cheeks joining his elder's seed as Aemond continues to pound him from the inside. Aegon releases his mouth and pulls back his hair.
“Never go back there again, never disobey me again. Say it." A nod isn't enough but it's so hard to give more than that when Aemond thrusts into him.
“Ye- Yes.. I swear.. I won’t.. ah.. I won’t disobey again.” The words stumble out of his lips, swollen and abused by his brother, and suddenly everything stops, pleasure exploding inside him without one of them even touching his cock.
He doesn't know how much longer Aemond continued to pump into him but it became painful, he moaned, eyes closed, wriggling his hips a little so that his tormentors would let go of him.
Aemond removes his fingers and grabs his face, the two large lilac eyes opening before him in an expression that reminds him of Aegon. “Keep that promise, I wouldn’t want to start enjoying hurting you.” He kisses him in turn on the lips before throwing him into the arms of Aegon, who offers him a thank you with a nod.
The door slams and Daeron jumps. “Shh, come on, I’ll give you a bath.”
Daeron begins to cry harder, his body running through shivers as he sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.. Aeg… I.. I swear I won’t disobey you again.”
A triumphant smile, sweet and wicked at the same time, appears on Aegon's lips; he knows that he has won, that he will no longer have to go looking for the kid there. "I know. I’m proud of you, you accepted your punishment and took responsibility like a real dragon, brother.”
A hot bath, lots of caresses and a few words. When the moon is at its zenith and the night is darker than ever, Daeron falls asleep, curled up between Aegon and his wife, surprisingly serene, as if relieved of a weight - that of his conscience perhaps - abandoned to them, pleasantly submissive and peaceful.
