MASTERLIST (dm me or send request for more fics with your ideas)
Six of Crows
Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader
Reflection (4 parts released) — Reader is the Darkling's daughter who comes to Ketterdam to seek help from the Crows; hurt/comfort🐥
Stubbornness (2 parts, finished) — Reader is a Healer with secret mutual feelings for Kaz; second part is basically smut🐉
The deal — reader works in a brothel and Kaz visits the place planning a new heist but instead becomes too interested in you.
Jesper x Wylan
The break — it's been a long time since Jesper and Wylan shared some intimacy but they're going to fix that; smut and nothing more🐉
House of the Dragon
Aemond x fem!Reader, Aegon x fem!Reader
The triad (2 parts released) — Reader is Aegon's twin but she's close with Aemond instead and knows some prophecies so there's a chance for Greens to change the course of the future war; hurt/comfort🐥
Aemond x Lucerys
Free choice — Aemond and Luke as the new versions of Hades and Persephone, angst
Aegon x Jace
Denial and waiting — Aegon is following Jace around and doesn't give him a break from his flirting so it won't take long for Jace to snap and claim what's his; eventual smut🐉
Summary: Aemond and Luke as the new versions of Hades and Persephone. The final part with some happy ending.
Part 1
When Luke returned to his guests, the empty seat at the table next to Helaena was the evident proof that he'd got it right. Aemond had made the decision for both of them, and he'd put a stop where nothing had even begun. Pain coursed through Luke's veins and forced him to close in on himself. Loud songs no longer amused him, and sincere congratulations no longer made him smile.
— My brother will always be a loner. You should have seen him on the throne in Hell. Like a ruthless and indifferent stone. I can't believe that eight years ago we were all running down the beach together and arguing over who could steal sweets from the kitchen before dinner. Things have changed so much.
Aegon stepped silently beside him, pouring wine into Luke's glass. The role of the new Dionysus suited him just fine, but in the heat of his drunken slumber even he realized just how much of a burden Aemond was carrying. Hell had sucked the strength out of his master, fed on his emotions, changed him into a pariah who turned everything around him to ash.
— You still like him, don't you? When you were a child, you almost looked into his mouth. Even now you look for him in the crowd, even though you know he's gone. If I was a good uncle, I'd tell you to forget all about it. But I'll tell you that Aemond is stubborn. He's got it into his head that he's not worthy of anything good. That dead souls and hellfire are the only things that can be his company. But it doesn't have to be that way, you know?
Luke nodded quickly, causing the corners of his lips to lift in gratitude, but he didn't feel any better. He still remembered the firmness in Aemond's voice when he'd denied Luke even an attempt. There was hope in him that he could get over it and move on. He was eighteen, his power was growing stronger, and there was a lush spring ahead, warmth and sunshine and the bright colors of blooming flowers. He could live without thoughts of Aemond, without the memories of him that haunted him in his dreams and turned into the illusion that there they were together and he had a chance to touch Aemond and see his rare smile that immediately softened his features.
It was much harder to do that, however. The image of Aemond haunted Luke everywhere; it was literally imprinted on his retinas. His first thought upon awakening was of Aemond, as was the very last one before he went to sleep. It was as if Luke was in a fever, and longing was eating away at him day after day. He lost his appetite and stopped smiling and talking to everyone around him. Even his favorite walks in the greenhouse were no longer pleasant. The weeks flew by one after another, but Luke didn't notice them at all, withdrawn from his own feelings.
Rhaenyra was the first to worry. As a mother, it was easy for her to see that Luke got closed from everyone. But her attempts to talk to her son proved futile. Luke politely refused everything and kept saying he was tired and wanted to be alone. Real anxiety gripped Rhaenyra as the nature around her began to slowly fade. Even Alicent had told her about it once at dinner, asking her to sort things out.
It was the peak of spring, but the buds on the trees were beginning to die, and the soil was drying out even though it was raining heavily. A cloudy overcast sky blocked out the sunlight. Rhaenyra had the feeling that autumn had suddenly arrived, and as the goddess of fertility, she knew that they would have no harvest, not a single green petal, not a single living flower until Luke wanted them to. But Luke didn't care, even when people started sending him their prayers.
The situation got so out of hand that even Aemond in the underworld took notice of how many souls were arriving to him, complaining about hunger and lack of sunshine. The final sign was a letter from Rhaenyra one morning. The dim light in Hell was no substitute for sunlight and was more like moonlight. Aemond slid his eyes over the lines, and something in his chest clenched nervously. A silly, naïve heart fluttered and kept telling him it was his fault.
"I hate the very thought of it. Luke is a truly sunny boy. He should be by my side, blooming as well as spring nature, having fun with the nymphs, surrounded by the real light and songs. But we don't choose the ones we love. There must be some good in you, lord of Hell, if my son clings to you so desperately. You poison him even with your absence and your silence.
Please, Aemond. If you have a shred of the same feelings in you, make it right."
Even if he had some affection for Luke, he forced himself not to think about it. Asking Luke or making him to go down to hell with him was unfair. Deep down, he was afraid that in a couple of months Luke would be disappointed in him and run off first, leaving Aemond alone with a broken heart. He already had huge trust issues, Aemond didn't know how to let people get close, and the ugly scar over his eye socket served as a good reminder. He was cold and rough, and any rudiments of tenderness that Luke evoked in him were buried under the conviction that they were too different.
Rhaenyra's letter, however, made Aemond see things from a different angle. Maybe Luke's feelings weren't a teenage whim, maybe they would stand the test of time and life together. Maybe they were strong enough to make Luke leave his old life behind and choose Aemond. To choose cold and death. There is no life in Hell, but Luke can bring it, because it has happened before. Persephone did it once. She could even give birth to a daughter there, though the very idea of raising a child in Hell seemed absurd.
It took him two days to gather his thoughts and make the decision from which he had so long tried to escape, casting wistful glances at Luke for the past few years. Aemond knew exactly where Luke's room was in his father's castle. Getting there was no problem. The darkness hid the sound of his footsteps, and the dense, dark shadows served as an excellent screen from prying eyes. Aemond entered the bedroom just after midnight, and the all too recognizable smell of asphodels served as a signal to Luke, causing him to turn around on the bed and disentangle himself from the cocoon of the blanket. His curls were a mess, and his eyes were puffy with black circles. He looked quite shitty, but his heart was still filled with tenderness, and he was utterly fascinated by Aemond.
— Did you really abandoned your possessions? There'll be a whole line of undead souls waiting for you when you get back, — Luke's voice was hoarse after days of silence. He was tormented by curiosity as to why Aemond had suddenly shown up, but he didn't let himself think about the reason.
— The souls will never run out, but I'll pay attention to them later and pass new sentences. Did you know you have to do this on your own? Every day is too much like the last because of it. The string of dead will never end, but that doesn't mean I have to be with them every minute. There are other things that deserve my attention.
Aemond spoke leisurely and gently, gradually reducing the distance between them. He crouched on the edge of the bed and glanced out the window, where the thunderous sky was blackening and the rain was gathering again. Luke's face was almost gray without sunlight, and without proper nourishment his wrists were even thinner and more fragile. It hurt Aemond to see him like this.
— This has to stop, Luke. I know you're stubborn, but you'll drive yourself to your grave.
— Why do you care? — Luke's voice seemed a ghost of his former self. Empty and indifferent. He'd once dreamed of having Aemond sneak into his bedroom, but now he wasn't happy about even that. — Am I going to hell when I die? Or are the gods spared that fate?
— You have many years ahead of you. Or do you hope to become a ghost beside me, haunting me to punish me for inaction? — a faint chuckle crossed Aemond's lips, but it faded quickly, and he reached out to brush his hand lightly against Luke's slender fingers. As cold as his own.
— But you really didn't do anything. You didn't let me. You know what I wanted.
— You have freedom of choice. I wanted you to have more opportunities. To create and evolve. Not just be a shadow of your old self. Who would dream of sitting on a throne next to me and deciding which circle of hell the next dead soul goes to? You won't be able to grow your favorite flowers there, you won't be able to bask in the sun or call the nymphs for a merry dance around the fire. Your new company will be Hypnos and Thanatos, my ever-hungry Cerberus and Charon, who's always complaining about the deads.
The answer was beating inside Luke, and the cherished "Yes" was about to slip off his tongue. In some ways, Aemond was right. But Luke remembered the tradition — he could spend six months on the surface, with his family, bringing joy and spring. But six months alone with Aemond appealed to him far more.
— Let me try. Please. You know I've wanted you, for so long that I feel like I've loved only you all my life, ever since I was a child. Let me be near you, and if it doesn't work, if you don't feel comfortable with me, I'll go away and never bother you again, — Luke hated to ask, but he felt how important this moment was, how doubting Aemond was. It was his only chance to reach him through that impenetrable shell of false beliefs. Aemond was worthy of love and affection. Aemond needed it far more than he was willing to admit.
Luke leaned forward and met his lips halfway. It wasn't his first kiss, but it was the most desirable one. Aemond's tongue stroked across his lips and into his mouth, bringing with it the distinct taste of pomegranate, and Luke relaxed completely, hiding his smile contentedly and not noticing how the sun suddenly peeked out between the gray clouds.
May you please write a jacegon fic where Omega Aegon rizzes up the kingsguards and Alpha Jace is very jealous and he let's his mate know just that. ;-)
Denial and waiting
Fandom: House of the Dragon
Pairing: Aegon x Jace
Warnings: Omega Aegon, mutual pining, jealousy, oral sex
Word count: 3,7k
Jace was once glad that the fight for the Iron Throne was over before any of them were seriously hurt. When Viserys died, his mother was crowned with the condition that the Greens would remain in the Red Keep, except for Otto, who was executed for plotting. Jace wanted to believe that this would strengthen their family and make them closer, but he understood that Rhaenyra had only made this decision because she did not trust Alicent and keeping her around along with her children would be much more reliable.
But now he would do anything to get back to Dragonstone. The reason was quite simple - the damned Aegon Targaryen was getting on his nerves all days long.
They had gotten on well as children, at least it seemed so to Jace, who had followed his elder uncle's everywhere and supported all of his jokes and pranks. He liked Aegon's attention, it made him feel special. He laughed at Luke, who was willing to stay up nights just to have Aemond talk to him and rub his curls, while Jace himself did the same for Aegon.
Things were much easier when they were children. Until hurtful nicknames and gossips came into their lives. Despite his mother's best efforts, Jace knew that Harwin Strong was his father. As the years passed, he saw it more and more in his own reflection in the mirror. There was nothing of the Targaryens in his appearance, but he was like them in his belligerence and stubbornness. The Alpha within him was awakening so obviously that he needed only a straight look and a jutting chin to let people know who was in front of them. He was the future heir to the throne, after Rhaenyra, and it was evident in every gesture.
Everyone saw it and everyone accepted it. Except for Aegon, who continued to treat Jace like a foolish teenager. Even when Jace grew taller than him and larger in the shoulders, when the smell of salt and oak and real dragonfire began to overpower the brandy sweetness of Aegon's scent. The couple of years of difference between them ceased to matter. Jace could put his uncle in his place, he had every chance, but something inside him made him timid in front of Aegon just the same. Aegon's charming smiles were still attractive, and he still wanted to burrow his fingers into his short platinum strands to feel their softness. And Jace hated himself for it, trying to keep the distance between them.
It felt like Aegon somehow had acquired a talent for reading minds. He already had a talent for doing the opposite of what was told to him, and now it combined in such a horrible way that Jace thought that Aegon was stalking him. He found himself constantly near him. Aegon would be the first to sit beside him at the table, leaning toward his ear with ridiculous comments, finding Jace in the training yard, bumping into him in the corridors on his way to the library or baths. His insistent attention made Jace feel ambivalent. It pleased him, naturally, but it also made him think about what else could happen next.
The more time they spent together, the more he noticed that Aegon really was an omega. Stubborn and uncontrollable, but an omega. Any stern tone and cocky smirks served as a shield for the softness that lurked inside Aegon. He clearly needed someone's firm hand to restrain him, and Jace's patience was growing thinner and thinner. More and more often he caught himself imagining how he could silence another of Aegon's meaningless chatter with a passionate kiss, or how he could drag him into his bedroom when Aegon would cling to him after dinner and walk him almost to the door.
Officially, Jace was engaged to Helaena. It was one of Rhaenyra's first decisions as the queen, and Jace didn't mind it. He tried to be a dignified son, responsible and obedient, as his mother had enough trouble getting things in order throughout Westeros. Jace had quite neutral relationship with Helaena, respecting her interests and her desire to spend most of her time alone, among the blooming flowers and some bugs. They would make a good couple, one of many among other political marriages. They would have lived many years in peace and harmony and everything would have worked out really perfectly if it weren't for the fact that Jace was literally going crazy about Aegon.
Aegon was absolutely obnoxious. It was hard to believe that he was the son of saintly and studious Alicent. Even though Daemon had beefed up the security at the Red Keep and doubled the number of city guards, Aegon continued to sneak off to Silk Street and cause everyone a huge amount of troubles with his mere presence. It felt like Aegon was in a competition with himself, trying every day to create an increasingly unbearable version of himself so that he could reach the edge and see when Rhaenyra's patience would run out.
But right now the only one closest to the edge was Jace. The invisible scent of lime and cinnamon, which he had so often smelled from Aegon, followed him everywhere. Sometimes he thought he could smell it even in his bedroom, along with the scent of the damned brandy. On his worst days, he would shamefully wake up with a hard-on, and the arousal wouldn't go away even after he touched himself. Aegon was the physical embodiment of the word "seduction," and every flick of his eyelashes, every coquettish smile and playful huskiness in his voice served as poisoned arrows against Jace.
His self-control was becoming so fragile that he went to Dragonstone in the next rut. A few days alone away from Aegon were both a blessing and a curse. Jace wanted him so much that he would agree to give up everything and run away together if only Aegon would hint at it. And something told him that was exactly what Aegon had been after, not giving up on him for months. Jace's attachment was growing stronger, but they continued to stay on the fragile edge of mutual flirtation. He did take a step toward shedding some of his future guilt, though, so he came to Rhaenyra with a firm refusal of his engagement to Helaena.
Helaena was beautiful and deserved some honesty. He didn't want to marry her and then sneak into her brother's bedroom every night. Aegon's candid glances spoke volumes about how mutual their desire was, but neither of them was willing to cross that line. Jace clung to the last vestiges of control because he knew that once he touched Aegon for real and kissed him, he would never be able to let him go. His feelings grew within him and became a true obsession. Aegon looked trustingly into his eyes and touched his shoulder playfully, perfectly aware of this. He could have had Jace for nothing, but he wanted to bring Velarion to his climax.
Aegon was weak for other people's attention. The unloved son of his father and mother. He had sought approval and acceptance, love and affection all his life, and so now he literally fed on what Jace was giving him so generously. He knew that any austerity Jace had shown was false, that they both really liked to be around each other. Whenever Aegon found himself in a brothel again at night, he chose the same type of guys. Tall, broad-shouldered ones with dark curls. Countless times he shamelessly called them by Jace's name. But Aegon was not naive, and he knew he would never be a good match for Jace.
He was a fool in the eyes of everyone around him, and that was entirely true. He could only drink and flirt, he didn't care about politics, and he would probably make a bad husband and father. But Jace was incredibly handsome, he was a diligent and patient student. Jace was making great progress in sword and bow training, and was soon to join the Small Council. When Aegon looked at him, he was almost dazzled by how disgustingly perfect Jace was. The ideal son – someone Aegon could never be. So he drank more and more, stayed in brothels longer, and showed Jace his weaknesses. But his stronger cravings drove him to be near his nephew again and again.
Aegon's quiet trill of laughter mingled with a new, loud song. Jace sighed in relief, shifting his gaze to the crowd of merry guests in front of him, but his attention quickly slipped further away. Through the dancing people, he spotted the familiar platinum head of Aegon, who was already chatting playfully with the head of the city guard. Aegon's palm slid along man's shoulder and chest, and he pressed closer to him to whisper something in his ear. Jace knew from experience how easily Aegon flirted with everyone around him. He could bargain his way out of the underworld with his charms. And that was what had hurt Jace - he was too used to the fact that lately he had been the only one receiving some attention from Aegon.
— Would you like to dance? I've heard you had quite warm welcome in Dorne, and they're famous for their entertainment. I'm sure you've learnt something from them, — Aegon would rather die than admit aloud that he'd missed Jace this week while he'd been traveling with Daemon. He leaned closer to Jace, dabbed the tip of his nose innocently along his shoulder, inhaling the heavy scent of the alpha, and almost didn't twitch when his lower abdomen cramped with a lump of desire.
— I'm not in the mood. Why don't Helaena keep you company? — the smell of Aegon's excitement filled Jace's lungs in an instant, and he clutched the glass tighter in his hand. He found his own tone all too harsh and displeasing, and he mentally prayed to the gods old and new that Aegon would back off.
— Hel hasn't took her eyes off Cregan Stark's brother all evening. I'm afraid I'll have to entertain myself again on my own.
Jealousy burned his throat along with another gulp of alcohol, and a shiver instantly ran through his body when Jace imagined what Aegon might have done with someone else. Their kisses, their touches. The beasts inside him clawed painfully at his rib cage. They demanded to take back what was already theirs, and he shifted his eyes tensely to his left, meeting Aemond's appraising gaze. Though he had only one eye, he was perfectly aware of how awkwardly Aegon and Jace were dancing around their feelings. He nodded his head faintly, and Jace took it as a mute blessing.
Seven seconds later, he was already standing beside his uncle and Alan Beesbury, frowning like a storm cloud, and his dark eyes didn't bode anything good. Aegon acted as if his omega status had nothing to do with him, most of the time, but now even he wanted to merge with the wall and disappear, just to avoid the wrath of the alpha. He shifted unconsciously toward Alan, and a wave of shivers ran down his spine as he met the fire in Jace's eyes.
Jace's smile never touched his eyes. Jealousy was corroding his veins like poison, and he was shaking inside with a compulsive desire to clutch Aegon to himself, with an instinct to brand him and chain him close, just to never see him flirting with anyone else again. The next moment Jace was dragging them both toward the exit, gripping Aegon's wrist with such a deadly grip that it would surely be bruised by the morning.
— Is there any security problems in the hall, Beesbury? My uncle hasn't distracted you from your work, I hope? — Jace's cold tone was like a pair of sharp daggers, unmistakably hitting their target without any disguise of threat.
— No, your uncle was just curious if I knew anything about the secret passages in the castle, — Alan kept his voice emphatically formal, ignoring the tension that was building up in the air between them.
— I saw some books in the library about it. I'm sure I can consult Aegon better than you.
Aegon knew he had been walking on thin ice for a long time, and now, though fear was following him unseen, a painful and misguided anticipation was growing inside him. Jace would snap, he was absolutely sure of that. And Aegon was ready to handle any pain and any hurtful words just to finally shed those doubts and stay alone with his alpha. With his alpha.
— Do you want to miss all the fun? They're serving cherry cakes for dessert. I've tasted them and…
— Shut up, Aegon. Just shut up and don't make it worse, — Jace interrupted his uncle's muttering rudely, and a wounded ego kept him from apologizing for his tone.
His lips were instantly captured by Jace as he led Aegon into his bedroom and clicked the lock, immediately pressing his uncle against the door with a wet, assertive kiss. Excitement burned out all the oxygen in the room and made them both gasp, clinging desperately to each other. The clothes became an annoying barrier, but that didn't stop Jace from pressing his palm against Aegon's groin and squeezing firmly, causing him to let out a soft moan, which Jace immediately hid in his mouth with another kiss.
Jace paused for a moment and straightened, hovering over Aegon in an almost threatening way. He was still angry, but the passion outweighed any aggression, and the fact that he could still phantomly feel Aegon's tongue in his mouth definitely softened the situation. And Aegon sensed this change in him easily, so he moved cautiously closer, touching the line of Jace's jaw with a barely perceptible kiss. As if Jace were a god who could not be touched. As if any action could have been refused, as usual.
— I hate it when you do that. When you forget all the rules and act like a street girl who'll spread her legs for the first man she sees, — Jace muttered hoarsely as he covered Aegon's neck with his bites, licking them with his tongue one by one.
— Oh, seven hell, do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth, Jace? What would Rhaenyra say if she knew you had followed in her footsteps and also fallen for your uncle?
— She didn't say anything for two days straight after she caught Luke in Aemond's bed. I don't think she'd be too surprised about you and me.
A string of shy kisses led him to Jace's lips, and at the same time Aegon was studying his face. He was completely enthralled and speechless, at once he lost all his playfulness and boldness. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Aegon felt a sign of tenderness in him, and it stunned him and captured his attention far more than the fact that his arousal was still building up and his cock was already hard under his pants, just as the smell of his arousal and his need was filling the bedroom at a rapid pace.
Omega recognized the unspoken command easily and knelt down gracefully. Jace was the younger and he should have been on his place, but fate had decided otherwise. Jace was the Alpha, and Aegon felt it most keenly now. Jace's gaze was filled with real power, and he intensified it when he buried his fingers into Aegon's weightless platinum hair and yanked the strands back, making his uncle tilt his head harder. The excitement pushed out any embarrassment, so he didn't twitch when Aegon's dexterous fingers had already freed him from his pants and underwear.
— Please, — Aegon exhaled right next to Jace's lips, keeping his gaze piercing. So frank and vulnerable that it hurt Jace to look at him. — I know I'm a shitty person, and I know everyone would be glad to send me away so I don't look like a family embarrassment at every feast. And I know my sister would make a good wife for you and everyone would take an example of how fucking perfect you both are, but I want this now. Only you. Just for one night, because I can't hold it in anymore.
— I called off the engagement, — the quiet words slipped from Jace's tongue, but the silence that ensued was almost deafening. His palms tightened around Aegon's waist, as if he could disappear. — I decided it isn't right to marry Helaena while I am drooling over her brother.
– I don't think Luke would be happy to know that he'd have a rival for Aemond's attention, — the silly joke did an excellent job of hiding Aegon's surprise, but Jace's confession certainly relaxed him and gave him a little hope.
— You're much better at flirting than you are at joking. Maybe I should find another use for your mouth then.
— I've dreamed about this dozens of times. How I caressed you and you whined my name.
Immediately after making this confession, Aegon moved proactively closer, and confidently circled Jace's hard shaft with his palm, running up and down the length of it. The sticky pink head went straight into Aegon's ajar mouth, and the room became filled with a collective moan. The taste of precum on his tongue excited Aegon even harder, and Jace wanted to feel the wetness of his mouth more, so he pushed deeper on his own. Aegon's gaze reflected such devotion and agreement that it finally loosened Jace's control, making him forget about any shyness.
He squeezed Aegon's hair more comfortably in his own way and now controlled the pace himself. Wet sounds went flying around them, but Jace was too focused on his pleasure. All that mattered was the tightness of Aegon's throat and his warm palms that gently caressed Jace's swollen balls. The abundance of moaning was starting to make Jace's throat ache, but Aegon's mouth wasn't the only thing he wanted to fuck. He needed to mark every spot on his uncle's body, so he didn't allow himself to reach an orgasm now and instead lifted Aegon to his feet with a jerk. Jace didn't pause and didn't even let him catch his breath normally, as he already gagged his uncle with a greedy kiss, assertively dabbing his tongue along Aegon's tongue to taste himself.
Velarion obeyed at once, tugging Aegon to the bed. It took eleven seconds to take Aegon's clothes off, and another six seconds for Jace to stand fascinated, studying the naked body before him. Aegon's milky skin seemed so soft and thin, so fragile, that Jace regretted for a moment that he had squeezed his fingers so tightly around his waist before.
— I can feel how wet you are without even touching you, — Jace's sly grin made them look as if they shared the same facial expressions. — How many times have you slept with them, thinking of me?
— Stop it, Jace. Don't play with me now. Just fuck me already.
Instead of answering, Jace threw off his shirt and then was beside him, flipping Aegon onto his stomach. He jerked his hips up and pressed down on his lower back to provide better flexion. A hard slap touched his buttocks, but Aegon didn't have time to resent it because he moaned too loudly to his own embarrassment when he felt Jace's tongue slide over his slick hole. Aegon was curious if Jace had slept with anyone before, but he didn't really care as long as Jace continued to lick him so enthusiastically, holding him tightly by the hips. Aegon stretched out toward him and whimpered as if it were his first time. No one had ever caressed him like this before.
— You're incredible, you know? The most handsome man I've ever met.
— Let's be honest, you haven't met many men while you were stuck in the castle hiding behind Rhaenyra's back. Get your cock over here, Jace, — Aegon rolled his eyes with a chuckle, but stretched out more seductively on the bed, happily accepting all the compliments.
He was about to cum in shame from that alone, but Jace beat him to it, thrusting his hard cock at full length at once. It was bigger than any of the guys Aegon had slept with in recent months, so Aegon was instantly overcome with the breathtaking orgasm. He clenched around the long shaft, and his hole throbbed so distinctly, oozing its moisture, that Jace growled, sliding his palm under Aegon's stomach to touch his still sensitive cock, prolonging the intense sensations. He massaged near its head and smiled contentedly as Aegon's moans grew louder and thinner. His body went limp, floating in true euphoria, and Jace gave him some time, leaning closer with affectionate kisses on his shoulder.
— It's nice to be a whore for just one man, isn't it? You're so tight, Aegon, I wish you could feel it yourself, — Jace teased him with a smile before he straightened up and began to move.
The first thrusts were quite tentative, but he was quickly carried away as his lust clouded his eyes, and the bedroom soon drowned in the wet slaps of naked skin against each other and the deep groans that Aegon and Jace were making at the same time.
Aegon was full of new requests for Jace: to keep fucking him, to fill him, as Aegon wanted to be stained with his cum, and have Jace fuck him again afterward. Again and again. Aegon was going to make the most of this night and had no plans to pull away from his nephew, though his body was already tired and sore from too much pleasure.
— Next time you'd better get it straight. Don't use my jealousy against me, — Jace growled warningly as he finally came and thrust even deeper into Aegon's body.
A large knot remained inside Aegon, making him whimper at how much the knot had stretched him, but Aegon only smiled blissfully in the end and found Jace's palm on the bed to confidently intertwine their fingers. If he had to flirt with Jace again for months and wait for him to make the first move, he would endure the wait for that kind of sex that now left him without a single clear thought in his head.
— Did you call off the engagement because of me?
— No, I did it because of the sudden feelings I have for Aemond. Gods, Aegon. You were the only one I looked at these months. You were all I needed.
Summary: The new generation of gods follows the same path, so Aemond and Luke should face their own fate as the new versions of Hades and Persephone.
Warnings: angst (but with happy ending in the second part)
Word count: 2k
Aemond didn't like to go up to the surface and pretend to be someone ordinary, clutching a glass of wine in his hand at some fancy bar in New York, Berlin, or Sydney. Aegon was excited about such pastimes and travelled easily through countries, hiding from his mother's strict supervision, but Aemond was too used to the dark solitude of the underworld to feel comfortable among the noisy crowds of the livings, who annoyed him with pointless clutter.
He looked to the core and felt the presence of death everywhere he went, and invariably brought a plume of asphodels around him. Light and quick to envelop, like a fog, granting a moment's forgetfulness.
He had once worried about being tormented by his own loneliness, as the ruler of Hell he was doomed to be in the underworld, avoiding the feast of life. No fun, no joy. Aemond remembered the grief and sympathy that splashed in his mother's eyes when she escorted him away for the first time, using Otto as a guide. God of deceit and trickery - Aemond had mentally blamed his grandfather hundreds of times for giving him blind hope for the best, fueling his belief for years that he might get something different. There were hundreds of choices, he could have been a patron of seers or doctors, but instead he took on his heaviest burden.
His eyes went blank and his movements were smooth and unhurried. There was nothing in hell but countless souls, like an assembly line, waiting for their fate. The bleak fields and the deadly rivers - Aemond had studied all the scenery during the first week and had long since stopped noticing it, shutting himself off completely. He concentrated only on business, on the exhausting routine, occasionally allowing himself to see his sister and brothers, but even that didn't save them from the grave coldness that was destroying their relationship.
Aemond was hiding his envy deep down inside, where even blind Themis couldn't find it, and yet he agreed to attend Luke's party on his eighteenth birthday. The lavish feast Rhaenyra had thrown was worthy of all praise, but it wasn't the painted decorations of the manor that caught his eye. It was the air of life, the energy and hope in Luke's eyes, the joy that drew his attention. As Aemond stepped closer, modestly handing over a pendant with a ruby as a symbol of kindred courtesy, it seemed to him that a chasm separated them was far deeper than the one in which the icy Cocytus had been held.
— Does Rhaenyra still hold you close, like a child? I've heard Jace is doing quite well, and the exhibitions he curates are very popular, but it would be hard to expect otherwise from a god of truth and a patron of the arts. Maybe his success will be an example to your mother.
Luke could hardly remember the last time he'd seen Aemond. They'd spent a lot of time together as kids, learning tricks and playing teammates against Jace and Aegon. The accident that led to the loss of Aemond's eye separated them, leaving Luke with boundless guilt. They began to see each other less often, and Rhaenyra contributed to this by limiting their trips to King's Landing. Luke had almost convinced himself that he didn't care about how Aemond lived, but his interest returned instantly when Aemond turned eighteen and the Moirs determined his lot as the new head of the underworld. The new Hades.
Luke was familiar with the order of things. Some events were inevitable and repeated from generation to generation. Hades and Persephone determined the fate of their descendants and condemned them to the same bond. Their new versions were drawn to each other in the same way and went through the same stages of denial, anger, bargaining and acceptance. The result was always the same - a new marriage and a new division of the year.
Deep down, he held out hope that he would be the one to play the role of the new Persephone, just as he feared it with all his heart. Luke was no fool and judged his chances soberly. His mother was a fertility goddess like Demeter, and she had enough children that one of them would be Aemond's partner. It could have been Luke. And he wished, in a way, that it had turned out to be true, and he saw it as an opportunity to mend their former bond with Aemond and get rid of the resentments that hung as a burden between them.
He preferred not to think about the fact that he really liked Aemond, even when he was alone with himself. It was wrong. Incest had been practiced in their family for generations, but Luke kept thinking it was wrong. Dirty. And therefore especially attractive. At night he closed his eyes, imagining how Aemond could jam him in an empty room, press him roughly against the wall and kiss him, claiming his rights, and Luke's body instantly gave a reaction. Every single time. Desire pierced through him and pulsed just under his skin, preventing him from being distracted by anything else.
Or anyone. He tried, really tried, to go on dates with someone else, and it never worked. He was bored, he felt empty, and his thoughts kept going back to Aemond. Ever since he started spending almost all of his time in the underworld, their meetings had become almost priceless because of how rare they were. Once or twice a year. And Luke always waited, deluding himself with the hope that during the next break he would forget Aemond, put him out of his mind and fall in love with someone else. But each time he continued to be like a naive puppy, greedily catching his uncle's every look.
His birthday was a good reason for the whole pantheon of gods to gather in King's Landing. Aemond was going to show up, and Luke was ready for it, nervously searching the spacious hall with his eyes, where guests were feasting noisily, but eventually he met him near the garden alone. The gift from Aemond became a pleasant surprise and brought a faint blush to Luke's cheeks. The ruby pendant looked so much like a pomegranate seed sparkling in his palm that Luke was glad for the fact that Aemond could not read his mind.
"Take me away. Forget about everyone else and take me away, hide me in hell itself and lie to everyone. Mark me, make me yours. Let me be there and bow my head obediently, swearing allegiance for decades to come."
In some way it was an opportunity to close the gestalt and make things right between them. To be close again. In his best dreams, he called it "sacrificing yourself," because few people in reality would agree to voluntarily go down to hell for six months. But Luke's selfishness was strong enough to make him admit the truth. He wanted Aemond for nothing, and all the reasons "why not" were losing all meaning when he saw the ice in Aemond's blue eyes or the luxurious platinum of his hair that Luke wanted to burrow his fingers into.
And now, alone with him in the garden, Luke felt the expression "blind love" at its fullest. He didn't know much about Aemond, there had been no games or trusting conversations between them for a long time, and Rhaenyra would probably have wrung his neck personally for the very thought of leaving his old life behind and sacrificing everything for the bleak emptiness of Hell, but he was willing and ready to risk anything. Aemond seemed deep and interesting, he remained incredibly attractive, and the long scar didn't ruin his beauty at all. Lucerys was sure he could bridge the gaps between them after a while and love Aemond even more, if he had the chance.
— We're all still children to our parents, aren't we? Even when we grow up, — Luke remarked softly after a long pause, turning his back so that Aemond could clasp the ruby chain on him.
— Maybe. But my mother looks at me differently now. She only sees death, but I can't blame her for that, — Aemond answered with a note of familiar melancholy in his voice, and Luke nodded briefly, understanding the implication.
Aemond was the death itself, and the wilted lush rosebuds from the nearest bush were the best proof of that. Luke ran his fingers lightly over them, and the flowers immediately bloomed as before. It was so strange and so fascinating. They were opposites in nature. One was diligently giving life to everything around them, and the other was taking it away, coldly and mercilessly. Luke suddenly wondered if anything could grow in the underworld but asphodels, whose ghostly scent he could smell on Aemond, and then realized that he had never seen them in person. Only in pictures from old books.
— Do you think I could grow something in your realm? There are different laws there, obviously, but my power would remain the same there. Would I be able to use it? I've come across passages in the diaries of our previous generations. I've read that this had happened.
Luke turned back and stared at Aemond, studying him. So simple and naive, so young. So alive. Aemond would have given a lot to feel that way just once more. The subtext lurking in his nephew's words was all too easy to detect. Fate itself was bringing them together again. Aemond didn't believe anyone was capable of loving him, and he was convinced that pure and soft Luke would simply wither away in the underworld within weeks. He wanted something different for Luke, something better. Just as he wanted for himself.
— Hell is alive, as strange as that sounds. It can change to suit its master. New rooms may appear at the snap of a finger in my house, fields of asphodels alternate with fields of fire. But it's all darkness and chaos, it's primordial energy, much older than us. Even if you grow something there, even if I were to allow it, it would die soon. Don't get your hopes up, Lucerys. You should stay on the surface, here, with your family. Keep the others happy, keep the soil alive after the winter. It's better for both of us.
Aemond's cool fingers gently touched Luke's collarbone, tracing the ruby pendant, and instinctively gave him the creeps. Luke felt like taking a step back, but he forced himself to stay where he was. All sounds instantly disappeared, as if he had gone deaf, and there was no longer the chirping of birds, no sound of the spring breeze, no sound of waves from the neighboring beach. There was only Aemond, with his emphatically perfect posture and endless hollowness in his eyes, with a smile so sad that Luke swallowed hard at the bitterness that gathered on his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut to hide the appearing tears.
The hint was so blatant that Luke could physically feel his heart breaking. He was often referred to as Rhaenyra's favorite. A spoiled child who had been bathed in attention and compliments since childhood. In fact, he often faced rejections, but this one.. This one was the worst.
The phantom touch continued to burn his neck, even when Luke opened his eyes and stumbled into the void. Maybe that outcome was to be expected. Aemond wasn't blind, and he had certainly noticed the admiration in Luke's eyes. The way Luke reached out to him and spun around, constantly trying to strike up a conversation or get a share of his attention. But Luke was young and inexperienced and deserved something better than Aemond could ever offer to him.
Summary: You work in a brothel and all of the sudden Kaz Brekker becomes a frequent visitor who prefers to stay in the shadows until you come up to him first.
Warnings: soft Kaz, mentions of touch aversion
Word count: 2,7k
— Let me guess. Are you going to use an excuse that you're looking for something again?
— No, this time I'm only looking for you.
Your mother once warned you about how cruel the world was and how important it was to be careful. Young girls often caught the attention of slavers and it would probably break your parents' hearts if they knew exactly how your life had turned out after their death. Your aunt was supposed to take you from Fjerda to Ravka, but your ship was attacked by pirates and instead you ended up in Ketterdam when you were fifteen.
In some way you were lucky. You got a place at the Rainforest, an extremely posh and expensive place. The guests were usually wealthy travelers, diplomats, or members of the Merchant Council, so you didn't have to worry about your safety. The girls had to keep the good mood of the clients, but everyone put a different meaning to the words. Some wanted only sex, some wanted company to talk to. They were all escaping loneliness, and you couldn't blame them for that.
But among the row of all the others, only one guest was special. The tapping of his cane on the wooden parquet was unmistakable. You had to have lived in Ketterdam as a complete hermit, blind and deaf, if you didn't know who Kaz Brekker was. Rumors about him flooded the streets, intimidating and exaggerating every little thing about him. But there was no doubt that this guy was very dangerous indeed. His cane broke a lot of bones, and his brilliant mind ruined a lot of lives.
It was not for you to judge how people preferred to rest in their spare time. Sometimes you spotted Jesper in his another funny hat at the playhouse across the street from your second-floor window. You two even talked a couple of times when you ran into each other on the street after the establishments were closed. But seeing Kaz Brekker at the Rainforest required a special occasion.
He seemed like a complete stranger in the place. His eyes were constantly scanning the room, his whole body was tense and looked more like a wax statue than a living person. He was clearly uncomfortable in the brothel, even if he tried to hide it, and his face remained a perfect blank sheet that could easily be given a slight interest. You might have believed it, but a few years at the Rainforest had taught you much better insight into men. Being able to read the slightest visible reaction was part of your job.
Anyone else came to a brothel for entertainment. People wanted to get some female attention and flirtation, to drink and spend a huge amount of money so they could leave at dawn with a smile and a sense of having had a good time. They came "from somewhere." But Kaz Brekker came "to somewhere." He was cautious, but at the same time quite determined, and he clearly had a purpose of some kind. You had seen him at the bar a few times, but then he disappeared faster than you could figure out what kind of drink he had in his glass.
It took a whole week before you realized exactly what was going on. Kaz carefully looked around the main hall, but never went any farther. You had to be a guest accompanied with a girl to go up to the second and third floor, where the girls' rooms for work and the office of the accountant and the club owner were located. You wondered what Kaz wanted to find that was so important that he didn't entrust the job to Jesper, who could pretend to be a client and sniff it out. From what you had heard, Kaz Brekker was probably the only man in Ketterdam who didn't use brothels for their intended purpose.
— Do you need any help or are you going to keep looking around every corner and memorizing what time the guards at the entrance change?
You walked up to him first, leaning innocently beside him on the bar, and glanced curiously at his glass. Vodka and ice? The club's shelves were stocked with liquor, but Kaz Brekker certainly had to stand out in this one, too. The simpler, the better, that's for sure.
— What makes you think I'm interested in security? — Kaz's husky voice carefully concealed his surprise, as if he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed you approaching. And it was further confirmation of how different he was from the people around him. People didn't come to brothels to drink in silence and think about personal things.
— Well, I have eyes, and I can use my mouth to find out that you haven't been with any of the girls, even though it's the fourth time you've been here in a week, — you chirped, giving one of the clients a smile before you turned your attention back to Kaz, your tone changing to more businesslike. — The cane and gloves. This black suit. If you want to go somewhere incognito, I suggest you use a disguise in the future, Kaz Brekker. Everyone is capable of recognizing you in this town, as well as exactly what you're known for. Are you planning another heist here?
Kaz was ready to curse himself for how obvious it was. A foolish scheme had turned out to be an even more foolish finale. He had originally wanted to dig into the situation himself, after Inej had given him the details of the owner, the number of girls and the size of the rooms. But one look at the crowd was enough for him to spot you and that dark blue dress with the veil you wore that first night. Like the sky in the middle of the night. A mystery lying in plain sight. It wasn't until his third night that he was able to find you among the other girls in the hall, guided by the shade of hair he remembered, when he could finally see your face.
Perhaps all these years the Saints had shielded him from unnecessary sympathy and feelings for someone just to give him the illusion of invincibility. He loved nothing and nothing could be taken from him. Kaz believed this as if he really didn't have the ability to feel anything. And that's why he was so shaken by how much he remembered that image of you with the veil and how much he wanted to know more about you. He was so unrestrainedly crushing on you that he still hadn't moved forward with the plan. He needed the access to the second floor, but he didn't have the courage to come up to you and pretend to be your client. Kaz shook at the thought of touching you and the anxiety came along with nausea almost instantly.
— There will be no heist. I just need to look at a couple of documents. I won't even take them with me, — Kaz replied discreetly, forcing his appraising gaze to stop on your face. Too beautiful. Too distracting. He shouldn't have told you anything but he hoped his honesty would buy him a way out.
— I can help. In exchange for a favor, of course.
You leaned closer to him in a trusting manner, and your fingers gently touched Kaz's shoulder. Just for a second, so lightly that the touch seemed phantom and unreal. Whatever past Kaz held, it made him keep his distance from people in a literal sense. Your observation of the previous nights was enough to realize that Kaz was not a fan of touches, even casual ones. The gloves clearly served him as an extra layer of protection, though you were curious about what had happened to him that caused such a reaction. Many girls in brothels reacted similarly negatively to touching after a while, but Kaz didn't seem like the kind of person who would work in such an establishment.
— Okay, let's say I would agree to your terms. Hypothetically. What would you ask for? — it was hard for Kaz to imagine what a girl like you might need. Money? Freedom from your indenture? Or someone else's death? He knew how much brothels disfigured and perverted the psyche, no one remained a saint there.
— You will take your gloves off next to me. No touching. But you will take them off so we are equal.
You were absolutely unwavering in what you said. Some tension thickened between you, and the air seemed almost electrified. Kaz Brekker was a threat to everyone in Ketterdam, but something told you that he could show an unusual softness around you. You'd met guys like that before. They built themselves up to be important and confident, they controlled other people's lives, but when they were alone, they all wanted to give up some of their control. To give it to someone else, to breathe easier. You wondered if Kaz was really the same.
He threw a quick glance toward the exit, as if miscalculating his escape route, but finally nodded in silent agreement. A smile bloomed on your lips, and you wrapped your fingers lightly around Kaz's wrist over his jacket to lead him up the stairs. The guards let you through without any questions, and you wondered if they knew who the dark-haired guy with the cane next to you was. If they did, they would have preferred to kick him out in fear that he would pick all the locks and stashes in the brothel.
You led Kaz to the very last door and carefully looked around before nodding approvingly. Time was short, but you had no doubt that Kaz would manage to find what he needed.
— All of the owner's papers are here, so as all the accountant's reports. He'll be back in half an hour, after lunch, but if I were you, I'd hurry, — you warned him with a charming smile, without any guilt for taking a criminal to the brothel's main office. — Be a good boy and come see me afterwards. Second door on the left. I've heard you always stick to your part of the deal.
You didn't wait for his answer and went to your room. You had time to open a window and fix your hair before a polite knock reached your ears, and then Kaz came inside. Quite pleased, judging by the look on his face. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, though you knew no one would dare disturb you anyway.
— You could have told me. I wouldn't have wasted my time, — Kaz's voice, despite the accusation in his words, was filled with real amusement. His blue eyes twinkled with surprise, though he quickly returned to his usual reserved look.
— I wanted to watch you at work. How fast you can do it. Your fame runs far ahead of you.
You shrugged innocently, smiled softly, and then stepped back, resting your back against the windowsill. The light breeze from the open window played mischievously with your hair, and you threw your head back for a moment, closing your eyes to relax. When you looked up again, Kaz was already in front of you. His cane had been left next to a nearby chair, and his last step toward you was extremely neat, since Kaz was trying not to put pressure on his bad leg.
— I know a couple of Healers. They could have helped you with your leg. Your life would have been a lot easier, but I guess you thought about it and gave up that option. Do you use this pain to punish yourself? — you spoke more quietly, and everything inside you froze with a strange anticipation.
Tension rang in the air and only got stronger as Kaz slowly began to remove his gloves. When was the last time he'd done this in front of someone? Had it even happened once? He looked so vulnerable, so collected and soft at the same time, that you immediately wanted to praise him. It was clearly a huge step for him, and you were about to ask why he decided to do it after all, but Kaz beat you to it, breaking the long pause.
— To remember. Pain reminds me that I am alive. That I have some weaknesses. Given what I do, it's easy to believe in my own invincibility. I've seen it bring people down, — Kaz's voice lowered and literally vibrated.
What was happening seemed like a real obsession to him, but he was already here and this was his chance, so he cautiously took another step, standing quite close so that your chests almost touched. The stale smell of water crept up his nose as the first sign of future panic, but Kaz did his best to get rid of it. Some things have to be done the other way around, so even though all his instincts were screaming for him to step back, he shortened the distance between you and touched your hair unabashedly, tucking the strand behind your ear.
— It's a good strategy, but I feel sorry that you have to use it, always feeling pain with every move, — you didn't try to move away, nor did you comment on Kaz's actions. The attraction between you could be felt under your skin. Kaz was handsome as hell, and part of you wished he could have been a mere client. So you could flirt and touch him without any consequences, without making him uncomfortable.
— Your strategy is pretty good, too. In a few years you've made a great career move, from a usual servant to an accountant of one of the top brothels. Do you still work with clients?
— I'm a fast learner. And yes, I don't have to sleep with anyone anymore, but sometimes I still spend time around big clients to make sure there aren't any problems.
Kaz nodded, not really paying attention. He could hardly think about anything right now while his whole body was in a state of peak tension. For the first time in his life he was so attracted to someone, and it shook him to his core. Kaz wanted to go further, but his mind was frantically trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen. Was your attraction mutual? If he risked touching you for real, how quickly would panic overshadow desire? If you knew about who he was, did you realize the danger he brought with him?
It was literally written all over his face, all those difficult choices that plagued him so much that you made the decision for him, gently reaching forward with your palm. He could touch it or he could step back. During the healing process even the tiniest step was important. You kept your eyes on Kaz, studying his graceful facial features with pleasure, and you couldn't ignore how handsome he was. Kaz could have had any girl or guy at the snap of his fingers, but he was so uptight and so caught up in his work that he didn't notice anyone around him. Or he didn't want to notice because of his obvious problem with touching.
— What were you looking for in the papers?
You tried to distract him, continuing to watch as his fingers slowly came close to yours. There was barely a millimeter of space between you, but even that sent a wave of heat through your body. You could feel the touch even so, though it never really happened.
— The list of investors. And the guest list at the anniversary party. I was asked to find some compromising information on an official from the Merchant Council, — Kaz looked embarrassed and twitched his lips guiltily, taking a step back as panic reached his lungs and cut off his oxygen.
— I can get you an invitation. If you agree to visit me again. There's an old hotel in the west side of the town. I rent a room under its green roof, the biggest one. If you crack the lock before I get there, after midnight, I'll be especially pleased. Do you want me to be pleased, Kaz?
You returned the previous minimal distance between you and leaned into Kaz's ear with a charming whisper, casually running your palm along his shoulder and chest, leaving tiny millimeters to the actual touch. You wanted to test your guess and see if he wanted you the same way, or if you just made up the fact that there was a spark between you.
You got the best answer when Kaz nodded and briefly touched your palm with a light kiss, like a true gentleman.
Summary: The announcement of your engagement with Aegon make you and Aemond question your feelings.
Word count: 2,2k
Tag list: @flavorofsalt
Part 1
— I don't want to marry him.
Alicent rolls her eyes in evident irritation, but restrains herself and forces her lips to part in the softest and most reassuring smile. Sometimes she feels like these children were sent to her as some kind of punishment, but she loves them in her own way and reminds herself of that now. You and Aegon have been begging her to change her mind and break the tradition since you were children. Each has a list of their own arguments, but over the years both of you have come down to a simple and unapologetic "I don't want to."
Aegon is rude and cold. All he cares about is the new maids and the wine in his glass; even at battle training with Cole he is now a rare guest. Alicent senses a chasm between them that is only getting wider as time passes. Her boy has grown up and become too independent. His unwillingness to take responsibility for his actions horrifies Alicent - it seems that Aegon does not understand at all how much hope is placed in him as a firstborn son. Apparently one day she may have to drag him to the throne by force.
But she has Aemond, a son she is truly proud of. These days he is her only comfort. The only one who doesn't give her any trouble. Aemond treats everyone with respect, accurately performs every task, shows interest in his studies and spends lots of time training, striving to become the best fighter in the whole kingdom. Alicent admires him, not accentuating the ghostly bitterness at the sight of the scar and the leather bandage covering his empty eye socket. Even with this injury, Aemond remains a far more worthy party than Aegon. He wears it almost with pride, forcing everyone to treat him appropriately, though other people's pitying glances still annoy him.
— Girls rarely marry for love, honey. Usually it's the will of the head of the family. Dynastic marriages, duty, responsibility... — Alysent's voice grows quieter as she is caught up in flashbacks about Otto's time confronting her with the fact of her impending marriage to Viserys. — Our wishes don't matter. Fathers trade us as commodities for fortunate offspring, money or higher status in society.
— I will not have children with Aegon, — you shake your head stubbornly, feeling truly sure of what you just said, as if someone has slipped these words to you right now as an undeniable fact.
You braid your long almost white hair in front of the mirror and stoically don't flinch when your mother puts her arms around you shoulders, hugging you from behind. You catch her sad look in the reflection and hide your understanding. You pretend not to know why Alicent uses those exact words. Pretend not to see in the images of the past the young mother who had to marry Viserys, despite the terrifying age difference. Maybe you were a little luckier in that. Aegon is the same age with you, you grew up together, and you know him from every possible angle. But he does not hold a special place in your heart. He isn't the reason for your happy smiles and burning eyes.
— Why can't I marry Aemond? You know he's worthy, and we could...
Your voice, full of hope, falters as Alicent shakes you by the shoulders and turns you toward her. She's sorry, but there's an order to things that they must obey.
— We've discussed this before, and I won't waste time doing it again. I've listened to your lamentations for years, but you know they won't change anything. You will marry Aegon, it was decided when you were born, — your mother mints each word with particular firmness, and this is a hint of how tired she is of the whole situation, and you nod meekly, giving up.
You will still manage to get your way, even if you do it bypassing all the rules, but now it is better to calm Alicent down and not bring her to the boiling point. You remember quite well how long your cheeks can burn after mother's slaps. You know how to be a chameleon and give people the reactions they expect, even if they are false. You learned a long time ago that sincerity is not always the key to everything. But it's the only thing that matters to you - that's why the truth rings openly in the room when you talk about not having children with Aegon. You don't need to use cards or the stars or avoid nights together with your husband-to-be to know that.
It only takes a sudden frame, a blurred wisp in front of your eyes, to see an adorable boy beside you addressing Aemond through the cherished "Daddy!" And that alone warms you from within, sending a real shiver of shy happiness through your body. Your mother's words immediately lose all meaning - some girls are entitled to their love, after all, even under the condition of a dynastic marriage. And you know that Aemond will gladly take Aegon's place as your husband. He has repeatedly spoken out about this, even though no one has taken the youngest's words seriously.
Later that night, you visit your brother. You aren't a frequent guest in Aemond's chambers, but tonight he has deliberately avoided you all day since the announcement of the engagement, and despite the fact that you two usually spend Friday nights together, you have a premonition that this time Aemond will break a long-standing tradition. His resentment toward the world, mixed with aggression, spreads throughout the entire wing of the castle in a shock wave. You walk down the corridor, barely breathing, as if you were wading through a thick curtain of smog. Aemond doesn't keep guards near the door, so getting in isn't the biggest problem.
But to your disappointment, the room is empty. At this late hour your brother can only be in the training room. You contemplate the fact that this isn't the worst way to deal with emotions, so you let yourself lie down on the bed, staring into the stained-glass window across the room with a cloudy, tired look. Aemond is predictable - if something goes wrong and something knocks him out of his crystal smooth icy tranquility, he gets rid of that tension either by holding his sword in his hand or holding Vhagar's reins.
Aemond would have been glad to go up in the sky today, to circle over the neighboring lands and let the dragon choose its own direction, just to hear the sound of the wind and feel the frisky currents of air above him. Maybe it would spare him fantasies of what would happen after you and Aegon's official wedding. He can't help but imagine. Jealousy clouds the mind, rises as a desperate veil before his eyes, and beasts growl somewhere behind his ribcage, demanding to take away what belongs to him. You are destined for Aegon by birthright, but Aemond will rather die than let it really happen.
A break in the family is not as frightening as his mother's anger, but even that pales in the face of the fear that he might lose you before he has found you. It's hard for him to remember at what point the childish thought of "I could be a better husband for her" was replaced by the quite distinct "I want her only for myself, all to myself". Blind affection has developed into something more - if one were to ask Aemond to assess the situation from the outside, he would boldly call it a crush that at times feels more like an obsession. These feelings are so vivid and all-consuming, and they are only further fueled by envy of Aegon, who doesn't even have to try and do anything.
You're literally handed to Aegon on a silver platter, but he turns away at her, and that's what angers Aemond more than anything else in the world. He is so angry that the whole day flies by, lost in this boiling aggression. His mother forbids him to fly and sends guards to keep the way to Vhagar - she is truly afraid that Aemond will lose control of himself. She does not need to speak to her son to notice the reverent tenderness with which he treats his sister, and the fierce insistence with which he asks again and again to marry you. Putting two and two together is not at all difficult, but Alicent pushes away the dangerous realization to the last. She wants to believe that Aemond will outgrow his adolescent sympathies and won't become an obstacle to all her plans.
So Aemond is training all evening, deliberately skipping dinner. He literally boils over with his own powerlessness, and the scar itches nastily, echoing the tension that is already multiplying in his body. His wrist goes numb and his shoulder cramps from overexertion, but it seems to Aemond that he would rather burn in the fire of his own rage at fate than manage to truly calm down. "I should have been born first." He grinds it out through his teeth, trashing the training figures as if it were his own fault. But all the tension suddenly vanishes from him only the moment he finds himself in the bedroom, noticing a maiden silhouette on the bed. And then he is overtaken by utter fatigue, coupled with a ghostly joy.
Aemond moves almost silently, having already had time to change his clothes and take a bath. He leaves his trusty sword by the armchair and walks around the bed, a cautious smile blooming on his lips in an instant. He dares not disturb your fragile sleep, so he lays down beside you so as to leave a fraction of a safe space between them. But even this allows him, nevertheless, to reach out to the heavy blond curls and run the tips through, to drown in them like in the silk. Aemond had once even been able to braid your hair, but now his fingers, rough under the steel of his sword, can hardly remember the right movements. He gazes at you as if he was a thief about to be caught. Every moment is so priceless that Aemond hardly blinks, he doesn't even breathe, it seems.
Love pierces through him. It shackles him hand and foot and makes him utterly helpless. He could control anyone in the castle, he could easily overrule and defend himself, but even his own armor is no match for you. Any mask melts under your inquisitive look, any hardness vanishes from by your voice, obeying light touches or kisses. You two never crossed the line, always wandering somewhere on the edge, pretending to maintain the boundaries of propriety, but Aemond knows that the feelings are mutual. He knows that if he takes a step into that abyss, your affectionate embrace is sure to meet him on his way.
— Are you angry with him or with me? — the innocent question takes him by surprise, and he involuntarily flinches as he notices that you are no longer asleep, instead engrossed in tracing the movement of his fingers through the tips of your hair.
— With myself.
Aemond doesn't need to lie in your presence. You feel him so subtly that you easily bypass the barriers of words to get straight to the point. There's something he can't say out loud even to himself, but you know without having to, so you move cautiously closer to be with your brother, literally nose to nose. Pulling your cool fingers to his face, you smoothly circles the sharp cheekbones and the outline of his lips before picking up the tip of his artificial skin. The blue sapphire shines in the glow of the night, and you look at it mesmerized as if you noticed it for the first time, though years ago it was your gift.
— You're staring, — Aemond, as always, feels naked without his usual blindfold, so he uses that as an excuse to change the subject. He'd like to pay less attention to the fact that your touches are creating a tight lump somewhere in his stomach. — Do you think Aegon won't let you come here after the wedding?
— Aegon won't take away my will or my desires. He won't change anything, — you shake your head softly, not noticing the sneer in your brother's voice, and stand up a bit on your elbow. Reaching out some more, you press your lips to Aemond's cheek in short, blind kisses, trying to put a promise in your words. — Everything will stay the same. Our Friday nights, our flights together and our walks in the garden. I will stay with you, as I promised. I love you, remember?
You stop yourself, belatedly remembering that these promises they have yet to say to each other in the future, but Aemond is too focused on the tenderness flooding his gut with hot treacle to notice this hiccup. He's no longer able to run from what you so generously offer him, he feels a special foreboding in the air and he reads the benevolent permission in your eyes before he covers your lips with his for the first time, dragging you into a kiss that grows more desperate and impatient as the feeling of elapsing time becomes stronger.
So, I rewatched hotd and now I want to come back into the fandom and write something. I have a few fics already that I'll post later but now I'm curious if anyone has some requests that I could write? With aegond or jacegond or lucemond. Or maybe something with "x reader"?
Pairing: Aemond x Fem!reader, Aegon x Fem!Reader (possible)
Summary: You are Aegon's twin but, despite the fact that you're five minutes older, he's still a main heir. Your ability to have visions is much stronger than Helaena's and that gives you a chance to actually see what happens with Targaryens in the future. That's why you decide to take everything in your hands so you can survive and succeed, especially with some help from your brothers.
Word count: 1,6k
Part 2
Boys will always be boys. Your mother repeated the phrase so often, using it as a simple explanation for all Aegon's and Aemond's behavior, that you remembered it like a mantra. Like a commandment that cannot be broken or challenged. What seemed like a mere excuse for a child began to make sense as you grew older. You float somewhere between worlds all the time, lost in the boundaries of dreams and reality, but still manage to notice the important things around.
People say that everyone's personality traits form in childhood and are also determined by the upbringing and the environment you grew up in. Hardly any of of you had even the slightest chance of becoming someone normal. Usual. You know that this is what Aegon asks of the seven gods on those nights when even alchohol doesn't save him from the bitter realization of his plight. Things would have been so much simpler if all of you had been born into the family of some merchant. But you were destined for something else - something far greater.
Viserys often mentions his dreams. He wants to believe that he has some kind of power that will give him support and way to believe in what is right and what is wrong. Helaena doubts that your father is really capable of seeing anything, but she doesn't question that both of you really have some power to make prophecies. Sometimes the words come to her on their own. They roll around on the tip of her tongue, waiting to slip out at the most inappropriate moment and become the property of a public that will never be able to recognize anything meaningful in them.
But it's quite different with you. More often your visions have a picture and a sound, they are like dreams - so real that you cannot always tell whether you are observing the past or the future or just dreaming something that is never destined to come true. The line is so thin that every time you wake up, you feel a ghostly frustration mixed with hope. Like a flock of goosebumps along your spine, settling in your chest with an unpleasant heavy lump. Sometimes you see things that make you want to clamp your mouth shut to keep you from screaming in genuine horror.
Someone else's memories appear in front of you like an open book, and someone else's sorrows and joys are experienced so acutely and vividly that you feel every death and every birth as your own. On rare nights you actually scream. You crumple the sheets with your thin, icy fingers and scream, staring into the pitch black of the canopy. When your emotions begin to run high, creating a kind of vacuum that squeezes your in space, seeking to crush you completely, you know you must wake up. Your body gives you the command, reminding you that you have a power over this cursed gift.
But trying to get out of the nightmare is like trying to swim out of a swamp. The sticky, murky mire pulls you deeper with every effort. And then you raise your voice some more in a presumptuous attempt to reach out to someone. To get help. To not be alone. To not be caught in the snare of fear for good. Your cry goes through the stone walls of the castle so freely, as if a flimsy piece of wood were a barrier - and Aemond hears your first, since your rooms are the only ones in this wing. He always comes, justifying himself that there is a real reason.
Aemond is attentive to everything and remembers every detail with the pedantry of a bloodhound - Otto jokes that in the future he will have a seat in the Little Council. He responds to his grandfather's offer with the arrogance inherent as every true Targaryen, demanding in advance a position for himself that has not even been offered to him yet. Aemond could compile an impressive dossier on everyone in this castle, but the folder with his oldest sister's name would still be the most voluminous.
He knows every detail about you better than anyone else. You like everything to be on certain places in your room. You like watching the sunset near your dragon. You like being the only one who can say a word and make Aegon listen, at least for a while. Amond thinks there is a certain form of control that you adore, but when he tries to talk to you about it, you only shrugs with words about how everything in life is tied up with control. Somewhere you get it, somewhere you give it away. There's only a few of years difference between you two, but Aemond looks at his sister with pure awe, utterly fascinated by you to the core and so lets any words about your madness pass him by.
When he comes to you at night to cautiously lie down beside you and take your hand unbeknownst to him, muttering aloud who he is and where you are to calm you down, he does not think at all that your mind is at the mercy of some disease, as your mother thinks. He likes to be near you, to see the real you - without that fake, empty smile, that always sticks to your lips as soon as you leave your chamber. He appreciates every moment spent together immensely.
He also likes to listen. To catch the shimmering intonations in your voice as he asks about your dreams. As a child, he marveled at how much you and Helaena can make things up, but later he accepted that some of your visions do have a connection to reality, as Viserys keeps saying. Sometimes, when the weather changes make his scars especially aching and sensitive, Aemond thinks about how he should have listened to you sooner. Maybe then he wouldn't have lost his eye so stupidly.
When he shares his regrets with Heleina, all he gets in return is a soft smile and a light kiss very close to the edge of the lumpy scar. You add to this some wise words to comfort him a bit. "Some things are irreversible. No matter how you run from them, they still happen. You got the dragon, isn't that enough? Other times you wouldn't have had even that." Aemond wants to ask a host of new questions, about the other times, for example, but his skills of observation are enough to catch the mute warning in your eyes.
He twitches the corners of his lips in agreement and doesn't argue, only holds out his hand, waiting for you to touch him first. Alicent sometimes reproaches him for being cold and distant, but it is always different with you, so every tactile contact becomes especially important and can replace hours of heated discussion. Aemond appreciates the boundaries you sets for him - they are much closer than the ones you has for everyone else. It makes him feel truly special.
A warm feeling dances somewhere beneath his ribs, causing him to instinctively smile proudly every time he notices you flinch and seek to escape the unexpected touch of his mother or Aegon. There is never any such thing with him. You doesn't question it but you recognize as well that the bond with him is far stronger than with the others at court. Aegon is your twin, for example, but most of the time both of you can barely be in one room without starting a fight within a few minutes.
Your visions make it difficult for you to keep your boundaries and trace back to when your story with Aemond began. Did you grow attached to him since childhood and fall in love more after he lost an eye in that fight? Or did you have feelings for that grown-up Aemond you'd seen in your dreams since you were twelve so you absorbed his affection and warmth, and then all you had to do was to wait for him to grow into who he was meant to be with your help?
You take this course of events as a natural progression. The attachment grows stronger day by day, and you are increasingly drawn to the fact that Aemond himself reaches out to you and stays close to you even when he has already learned to wear his armor as second skin When he keeps his distance from everyone around him, he becomes increasingly cold and withdrawn. You think that the black hole of the castle consumes him as well, but rejoice when you see that your brother is still capable of affectionate smiles and sincere interest.
It is enough for you to see what Aegon is turning into. You were never close, not even as children. He always preferred to hang around mother or find company among the children of the other lords at court. Aegon liked other people's attention, he was quite easygoing, but even as a child he felt something special about you. He had once said that you had grown-up eyes. Alicent brushed it off with a chuckle, but Aegon remembered and still holds that opinion. Your eyes are empty. Dead. As if you are always somewhere else, remaining around only as a physical shell.
Aegon sees your emptiness even now, when your mother solemnly announces the date of your imminent engagement in the middle of breakfast. He doesn't like it at all. He knows the Targaryens' long tradition of marrying their own sisters, but he is disgusted by the very thought of it. He doesn't see you as a normal girl, so he feels sorry for himself in advance in this planned marriage and goes so deep into these thoughts that he doesn't feel Aemond's sharp, piercing gaze, full of envy that only he alone can understand. Nor does he miss you leaning toward his ear, interjecting your into your mother's idle dreams of a lavish wedding.
— I will love you if you try to do the same for me.
Your whisper pulls Aegon back to reality and acts like ice water, so he blinks twice because he finally sees you. Looking straight at him, not through, as usual. Burning with such determination, as if the fate of all humanity depended on it. Or at least the fate of some Targaryens.
Warnings: Kaz Brekker and everything that goes with him
Word count: 2,1k
Tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @valkyrie05x, @parabatai-winchester, @footydais, @valeridarkness, @igakc , @winstonthecow22
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Her first week in the Slat was so quiet and nice that Jess had the deceptive impression that she had been living here for many months already. She managed to fit into the routine quite easily, though she kept a certain distance from everyone around her because of Kaz's unspoken request. To him, it was just a job. One of many others, though special enough. So he kept Jess out of any of the Club's activities, but generously allowed her to be there as an observer every night.
She was similar to Matthias in that role, and he was basically the first one who Jess encountered most often, in the deserted kitchen or the living room in the quiet afternoons, while the rest of the Crows and Dregs ran countless errands for Brekker. The day before, Nina had locked herself in the bedroom with Jess with the company of a fine bottle of wine and they had talked literally until morning, passionately recounting the things that had worried and troubled them in these past few years. When Nina talked about Matthias, her eyes lit up so obviously that Jess swallowed her surprise and all questions about how he had coped with his beliefs that all Grishas should be recognized as a mistake of nature and killed.
The stern Fjerdan intimidated her with grim evaluative glances and the silence with him was so dense and physically palpable that it reminded Jess of the rare moments when her father had punished her with such silence and she had become extremely uncomfortable even standing next to him. But Matthias brewed the best coffee in the Slat and proved to be contradictorily curious. Jess thought that was Nina's beneficial influence, though she didn't go into details about their complicated relationship.
— Kaz let slip that you escaped from the Little Palace. Were you a Grisha?
Matthias found her after breakfast, taking the clean plates from her without further question to wipe them dry. His voice sounded wary, but Jess appreciated the first steps taken toward her, so she tried to show reciprocal benevolence by shaking her head gently, though she was almost certain that Kaz had told Matthias such details on purpose.
— Grisha's abilities come from birth and remain with them until death, even if we don't use them for some reason.
— So it's true, isn't it? Can you do magic stuff like Nina, too? Trick someone else's mind and control their heartbeat?
Jess knew that hiding something from the Crows would be an extremely difficult task. She was going to be living with them for a while and she wanted to believe that they would be able to make some sort of connection. To be on good terms. The last thing she wanted was to be in isolation again, where she could trust no one and had to constantly look over her shoulder, drowning in the pitch blackness of anxiety. Matthias, with his crystal blue eyes, looked naïve and curious, but Jess remembered that he had dragged dozens and dozens people like her to execution before.
— I have certain powers, but no, I'm not like Nina.
— I've heard that Grishas get sick when they give up their powers and hide them. That it's a punishment from the gods for ignoring their gift. Is this true? — Matthias seemed genuinely positive, not about to reproach or condemn her for who she was born to be.
— My grandmother used to say the same thing. I haven't met Grishas like that personally, but it sounds likely. I know your culture raised you differently, but many people do perceive our powers as a miracle and a special gift. Which is funny, since Grishas have been training for centuries only to die in the Fold.
Sadness seeped into Jess, threatening to turn into regret over Aleksander's sins, so she chose to change the topic to how Matthias was adapting in Ketterdam and what exactly he was doing for Kaz while he was trying to convince himself that he didn't stay here because of Nina.
Her next personal encounter with one of the Crows came the next day, when Inej caught her on her way back from some shopping. The Wraith was given her nickname rightfully. Her footsteps were completely inaudible, and her appearance made Jess twitch reflexively for a moment .
— Kaz wanted me to keep an eye on you. Why did you go out to the city alone?
If Jess hadn't known they'd only met each other a few days, she would have thought that Inej was really worried about her. But she just shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly shoved a large bag of groceries into Inej's hands, since she'd decided to stop hiding on the rooftops and keep her company for the walk.
— I didn't know that the Slat was supposed to be my prison with required permission to go in and out from Saint Brekker, — Jess' lips parted in an amused chuckle, though she knew she really should have been careful. — I haven't been gone more than twenty minutes. I thought you were on a mission. What did the boss have in mind for you today?
— Looking for some information, nothing new, — Inej answered vaguely, stepping first into the building that had become her true home in the last couple of years.
Inej held herself aloof and rather professionally, but Jess managed to melt the ice between them with lemon cakes and herbal tea brewed in the Suli tradition, as well as her own honesty about the terrifying things she had seen before in the Little Palace and while visiting military settlements with other Grishas. Experience had told her, correctly, that nothing brought people closer together as much and as quickly as shared traumas. Inej, tearfully talking about the Menagerie, earned Jess' respect almost instantly.
After she had left, Jess expectedly had another nightmare waiting for her. It started out so well that it looked like her real past. She was in her father's study, beside a huge elongated desk, drawing a map of Ravka according to Aleksander's instructions. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls to the ceiling and looked more like puffs of loose smoke, something her father had remembered to point out to her, reminding her to focus better on control. He said it so often that Jess heard his voice in her head many times, even after their classes.
Aleksander was there and she could feel the warmth of his smile, as well as the tangible touch on her shoulders in the form of an approving gesture. She had relaxed enough, and that's when the first terror shaked her. The nightmare crept into her memories as an ugly shadow, taking any light from the room and distorting Aleksander's facial features, bringing her back to that forest. To his screams, to his commands and to the massive pain. To his regret that she was too weak to really be his daughter. Even years later Jess didn't know what hurt her more — his cruel words or the searing, lingering pain by the darkness that had slipped inside her body and deprived her of air, ripping her skin through. Her father always calmed himself at the sight of the first blood, but now, in the midst of the nightmare, it wasn't meant to be.
The clammy fear didn't leave her even after she awoke. Her hands were shaking shamefully and Jess was suffocating in the stuffiness of her bedroom, so she stepped out onto the porch leading to the small backyard. Someone from the Dregs had dragged a nice white bench here, better suited to stand outside a fancy coffee shop, attracting tourists with full wallets. And that's where Wylan found her, unabashedly holding out a cup of tea. His outstanding and too readable facial expressions remained visible even in the night's semi-darkness, his eyes running across Jess' face and his lips pursed in dangerous anticipation, as if he thought she was bound to chase him away.
— Kaz said you had nightmares. You were screaming in your sleep. I guess it's silly to ask you how you're feeling, isn't it?
— If Kaz Brekker is so attentive, why doesn't he talk to me about it himself? I haven't seen him in a few days, — Jess managed to get her emotions back under control and softened the harsh phrase towards the end. She carefully took the cup and nodded appreciatively, dabbing her fingers on Wylan's arm to sit him invitingly on the bench beside her. — I'm fine. We all have reason for nightmares, don't we? No one in the Slat had a good life or we wouldn't be here otherwise.
— What do you usually see in your dreams? — Wylan's question sounded muffled, and his mind had already shifted, tossing up an image of his father. Goosebumps ran down his skin at the same second, giving away his former fear, and he wondered if he would ever be able to get rid of that terrifying reflex. No child should ever have to react like that to his own parent.
Jess knew very little about Wylan. Just some things Nina and Inej had told her. He was amazingly good with substances that could be detonated, had an eye for Jesper that was quite mutual, as was their endless flirting, and was excellent at music, judging by notes Jess had spotted in his room through the ajar door. Nina had mentioned that Wylan had run away from his family, and because of that Jess felt a special sympathy for him. Sometimes even life on the streets or being among ruthless cruel thieves and murderers was better than being under the family wing.
— My father, — the answer came out before Jess could even decide whether she should give away any details or it was better to keep her secrets from the Crows. If she had to run again soon, there was no point in making any friends here that she would have to leave behind.
The weight of the truth was really heavy for her more than ever, and she could feel in her gut how her hope for a peaceful future had crumbled. She could fool herself all she wanted with the rumors of the Darkling's death that were still circulating in Ketterdam, but there was a nagging sense of foreboding under her skin that she couldn't shake off. They really did have a connection.
Once, when she was eight, Aleksander had given her an enchanted pendant when she'd begrudgingly refused to let her father go back to the war. The Fabricator had worked on it so that the silver chain with its decoration in the shape of a small bird, remained completely black, as if it had been made of pure darkness. Her father had said that it would stay black as long as his pulse was beating, that he would always come back to her as birds flew back to their home nest. And she believed. She still believed and that's why she never had the courage to look at the chain kept in the silk pouch at the bottom of her suitcase. Jess still didn't know whether she wanted to see the black or the silver.
— I'm afraid that he'll come back for me. I'm afraid that part of me wants him to, because I'm still attached to him. No matter what - that's what he said, and now it seems like a real curse, — a sad smile flashed across Jess' face, but quickly disappeared behind her cup with another sip of tea. Her heart felt heavy at the admission of her weakness, but she was comforted by Wylan's presence in the moment. — Do you have something similar with your father or have you already managed to jump to the next stage and free yourself from his influence?
— Mine never took care of me. No breakfasts together, no walks, no affectionate words or hugs. He had no part in my upbringing, though he liked to punish me for something he alone saw some sense in. So, I didn't have anything to hold on to. Maybe I was a little luckier in that regard.
Jess had trouble being tactile, but at that point she could clearly feel someone else's pain, and she was sorry that it was her nightmares that indirectly caused Wylan to return to the troubled subject. Damn Kaz Brekker, had he sent Wylan to her? So, coping with the rush of anxiety, she took a deep breath and touched his knee fleetingly as a sign of mute support.
— We don't get to choose our parents, but we can surround ourselves with those who treat us much better. You're doing pretty good with Jesper, aren't you? That gives me hope.
thinking a lot about au where Aemond is the new Hades and Lucerys is the new version of Persephone.
Aemond knows about the prophecy but chooses to believe that it won't become real in their generation as he doesn't believe that someone like Luke will like him and will agree to go into dead darkness with him. Unless Helaena as Hecate tells him to prepare some rooms in his house in the underworld and gives him a pomegranate as a sign on Luke's birthday.
Summary: The early morning comes and you face some new opportunities along with the pleasure as Kaz's trying new things.
Word count: 3,1k
Part 1
After dawn you woke up with this weird feeling that you already had enough sleep. During the evening Kaz had been quite generous with lots of kisses and had distracted you with his caress, so it was entirely his fault that you'd just dreamt about someone caressing you. These intriguing images were still fresh in your mind. You blushed involuntarily and squinted sleepily as you looked around the small bedroom, lit by the soft dawn light.
Suddenly you froze and your eyes widened with surprise. You were definitely awake, but for some reason you could still feel someone else's touches. You realized what was happening so slowly, almost reluctantly, rejecting the frightening reality to the last. It was Kaz. It was sleeping Kaz who was really fucking touching you.
You tensed, and panic quickly filled your body. The incomprehension of what was happening overtook you as swiftly as the telltale heat, that made your cheeks visibly blush. Kaz's thin, strikingly hot fingers, meanwhile, continued their slow march under your T-shirt along your stomach and reached your ribs before they went up to your chest.
Your first thought was to bounce back and wake him up, to remember boundaries and decency and to ask, "What the fuck are you doing?". But the same question you could have asked yourself. An inner voice insisted on getting out of that bed, sprinkling everything with a massive amount of exquisite curses.
Because you didn't do anything. Curiosity became almost morbid, so you continued to lie quietly on your back with your right leg bent at the knee, holding your breath, just stiffened by every new touch. You knew that Kaz's feelings for you were real, and you were well aware of his ambivalent attitude when he was desperate to touch you and scared of doing so at the same time. But you couldn't imagine how much he was drawn to you, since his mind was able to break through the barriers created by time and make him forget about this eternal self-control at least in his sleep.
Was he dreaming something similar to what was happening in reality? Had it happened before? How did Kaz react to it? All of these questions seriously bothered you, but more important was how your body reacted to this unhurried caress. Kaz's fingers gently moved to your breast and squeezed lightly, making you swallow convulsively and tense up. Your stomach cramped with sweet anticipation, though your mind was still trying to find a decent way out.
Meanwhile, Kaz had his hands around your already hard nipple, playing with it unobtrusively. "God, make him stop", you couldn't take it. "No, don't stop".
Kaz's palm slid gently back onto your belly. His naughty fingers began to trace indistinct patterns, and your breathing quickened. The tips of his fingers literally danced on your bare skin and got closer and closer to the edge of your pajama pants, and that made the obvious desire grow stronger. You could literally feel how your underwear was getting wet, but Kaz's sharp sigh instantly caught your attention.
He was awake now, but his mind obviously needed some time to go into what was going on around him. You'd noticed this in the previous nights you'd spent together. The worst part now wasn't even that you'd have to throw an accusing and astonished question like "Why the hell did you touch me?" at him. It was that you wouldn't have found right words to respond to his fair one, "Why the hell didn't you stop me?".
His loud sigh repeated, and without even looking at him, you could imagine the shock that instantly overtook him at the realization that his fingers were freely touching your belly without the barrier of his usual gloves or an extra layer of clothing. Kaz tensed, but you managed to catch his hand, gently holding his wrist in its former position, before you turned your head smoothly to meet his worried and agitated gaze.
— It's all right. You didn't do anything wrong.
You needed to calm him down before panic took over his mind, so you tried to use the softest and most affectionate tone possible. Kaz's gaze slid tensely across your face, searching for a catch, and you were curious as to what exactly he had seen in his dream before. The question was already on the tip of your tongue, but you didn't want to add any more reason for Kaz to worry.
— But I did do something, didn't I?
His thoughts were like a disturbed beehive of bees, Kaz tried to catch at least one of them, but he was never successful. It was as if his whole being was divided in two. There was a part drowning in fear and growing panic at how close you were, and there was the other part screaming in a desire to go on and explore your body further, to find each of your sensitive spots and make you feel good. Kaz wanted to be able to overcome his past and his traumas, to learn how to give you the pleasure you deserved.
He didn't know much about sex, despite literally growing up on the streets of the Barrel, where carnal pleasure was a cheap currency. On any given night it was easy to spot couples in love lurking in dark corners and empty alleys. There was a brothel on every street that employed girls and guys of all tastes. Kaz used to think he was above it all and, therefore, better than everyone else. He didn't care about physical pleasure, he was so badly traumatized that the thought of even his own hands touching his body was frightening.
But meeting you changed his ideas and expectations about many things in a big way. Your careful healing touches became something almost sacred to Kaz, they were a real miracle that he was ready to worship, and that is why he always delayed to the last before accepting your help. Your presence was a gift at its best, and any physical contact between you was a real reward. At least for his patience and his efforts in how he tried to deal with his own demons.
If Nina found out that he still carried the title of virgin, she would never, ever let anyone forget it, but around you Kaz felt no embarrassment. You gave him valuable support and made him believe that he was needed and wanted for nothing. Kaz was used to everything in the Barrel being obtained through pain and blood, through money and power, and necessarily accompanied by the sale of his conscience, but you showed him another way.
You accepted him for who he was, and Kaz did his best not to disappoint you. And that's why, taking a deep breath, Kaz Brekker confirmed his longtime nickname, DirtyHands, and shifted his fingers unabashedly higher. He needed to see your reaction as much as he needed to see his own. The water remained somewhere outside his bedroom, and all he could feel with his fingertips was the warmth and softness of your skin.
You were alive, you stayed alive, and that gave him a little reassurance. He lifted his palm some more and gently cupped your breast, and his eyes were filled with such a mix of delight and apprehension and wonder that you were enveloped in a new wave of love for him. His concern for you was winning you over, and you knew that once you said a word, Kaz would instantly move away and never touch you again unless you wanted him to.
— You didn't do anything I didn't enjoy, sweetheart.
Your answer seemed vague, but the bunched sigh and hard nipples were a far better indication that you approved of what was happening. You still had trouble understanding the boundaries that existed in Kaz's mind. The relationship with him was like walking on a tightrope. Each step had to be thought through twice, and each one could be your last. Yesterday you could kiss his neck and he would be relaxed in your arms, but today you could meet him and he wouldn't even let you touch his palm briefly. Every day you had to start this journey all over again, not knowing if you would reach your intended destination.
But being on the sidelines was no longer possible. You wanted to be close and feel him with your skin. The glint of excitement in your eyes was becoming more and more obvious, so you took a risk and cautiously raised yourself up, leaning on your elbow to change your angle and look down at Kaz. Your gaze slid further along his body, and your eyebrows raised in interest for a moment when you noticed the familiar bump on Kaz's pants.
— Can I… ? — you asked cautiously, paying full attention to correctly recognizing Kaz's reaction. There was such a void in his head at the moment, he was focused solely on the feeling of your closeness, so he nodded mechanically, not even knowing what you meant.
But even that simple permission was enough for you. You moved swiftly closer and pressed your lips to his, squeezing his shoulder with your free hand. The kiss made Kaz shudder, but he quickly managed his anxiety, reassuring himself that it was you, and that he really trusted you. His body relaxed again, and then Kaz was able to seize the initiative, turning the soft kiss into a demanding and deep one, almost licking your mouth from the inside out.
He was constantly afraid that each time might be his last, that he would no longer be able to distract himself from the feel of water raising and the cold dead skin nest to his own, so Kaz showed all his fervor now, while he had the chance, while Jordy was pliantly hiding in the back of his mind and giving him valuable time with you in that dawn hour.
You didn't know which one of you made the leap, too engrossed in how well Kaz's lips touched yours, but the next moment you were already pressed against the bed. Your fingers followed the familiar path and found themselves in Kaz's hair, pulling the dark strands back. Even if his bad leg was making him uncomfortable now, he didn't show it. Such little things didn't mean anything to Kaz when he got to your neck, sinking his teeth into the soft skin with pleasure.
If someone had warned you that bloody Kaz Brekker would turn out to be so possessive, it would hardly have made any difference. You arched toward him and moaned briefly, knowing already that you'd spend a few minutes later staring at the fresh crimson marks on your neck in the mirror. Your hips clenched tighter around Kaz's legs and you thrust them toward him with obvious purpose. You needed to create a nice friction along his groin, though you still left it to him to pull away and not cross that line.
— I want more. I think.. Y/n, I think I can do this now. I can't bear the thought that I won't have a chance to be with you for real, and that you'll end up meeting someone else. I want to see you, — Kaz's trembling voice was so excited, so begging, that it shrunk something in your chest. It was incredible how hard he was trying for you.
— Just to see, hmm? We're not in a museum, Brekker, nobody's going to punish you for touching. More like the opposite. I could praise you, would you want that? I could tell that you're the best, the most diligent boy in the world? — you provoked him with a wide grin, pulling his hair back harder so that you could tilt his head back and let your tongue run wide along his neck. Exactly where his pulse was beating so often.
You didn't need to hear the answer. It was enough to see the dark flame of excitement in Kaz's eyes and his brief nod. You nudged him gently on the shoulder, and Kaz pulled back on the bed, giving you more space. He was barely breathing while he was greedily watching you take off your clothes. Healers were taught to get rid of embarrassment around their patients in the first months of training. You had seen exposed parts of other people's bodies many times, but no one had taught you how to hold yourself when you let someone see your own body.
— If I could paint, I would make your portraits every day. If I could play, I'd compose the best songs praising you, — Kaz said slowly, forcing himself to remember how to form words into sentences, completely stunned. — But I only know how to steal and cheat, so I'd steal you from everyone else. From Anderson, from Jesper and Nina, who you spend all weekend with. I'd like to be the only one who can see you like this. Being absolutely gorgeous.
Kaz Brekker wasn't a romantic poet, but he certainly knew how to approach a girl. A blush flashed on your cheeks at such frank words, but you managed it and pulled Kaz back closer to you. He was still wearing his clothes, and it created just the right contrast. It gave the illusion that Brekker was still in charge, but you both knew that it was really up to you.
— You can stop everything anytime, do you remember? I trust you and your ability to listen to yourself, you don't have to do something just because you think you have to, — you pressed your palm lightly to his cheek to make Kaz meet your inquisitive gaze.
— If I really knew how to listen to myself, I would have fucked you right on the table in my office three months ago right after that first kiss. But now I'm sure about everything, really.
Kaz didn't give you a chance to add anything else when he pertly shut you up with a kiss. You learned to work as a team a long time ago, so you joined in and guided his palm to your thigh, giving him a chance to run his fingers over the hot skin to begin with. You stopped straining to think about every detail, and the anticipation took over you entirely. You knew when the moment was right, and with a hidden smile you continued your lingering kiss as his fingers sank into the slick wetness between your thighs.
He didn't have the needed experience, but he had a great curiosity and a desire to please you. This made up for everything, and you gently pulled away from his lips, knowing that he would want to see exactly how his fingers touched you in your most intimate place. The tip of his index finger circled near your clit, pressing lightly, and you leaned against his shoulder for a moment, biting your lips to stifle the moan that was bursting out. Kaz was quick to learn and was now acting without your help, so you lay back, studying his too vivid emotions through your half-closed eyes.
— Have you imagined this before? That one day the trust between us would be so great that I could do something like this?
— I wanted that before there was any trust between us, — you admitted frankly, and a teasing smile touched your lips before Kaz caressed your clit a little faster, making you moan. — You were too handsome at the club. You walked into the room like you owned the whole building. And I also fell for your cheekbones and awesome sense of humor, I admit. But yes, hell, of course I wanted you and imagined stuff.
Kaz nodded, struggling to grasp the true meaning of your words. Passion filled his entire mind and made him even more greedy. He carefully memorized every loud sigh you let out, every moan. He enjoyed watching the way you crumpled the sheet in your fingers and the beautiful mess of your hair on the pillow. But he was more interested in seeing how eagerly you moved your hips against his fingers. Kaz knew what else you could have gone on. He was ready to die to know what it would be like to push inside your hot body and plunge his hard shaft all the way in, to drown in your sticky wetness. But tonight his stamina wouldn't be strong enough for that.
— I was dreaming about it. Before I woke up here, I had a dream about you. We were in an old house, similar to where I'd lived with my parents as a child, and we were fooling around in the bedroom. I could touch you there just like that, without feeling dead hands pulling me into the cold water, — any regret quickly disappeared from Kaz as he smoothly dipped two fingers inside your body.
Your loud moan merged with his surprised sigh. Kaz didn't expect his fingers to pass so freely, but the internal sensation of incredible narrowness struck him even more. Never in his life had he experienced such rapture, and his love for you strengthened in his heart. He moved his fingers with confidence, getting you faster and faster to a vivid orgasm with each thrust. You grasped his hand with such force that you must have left marks, but your pleasure was so huge and overwhelming that it made you forget everything around you. You whimpered Kaz's name again and again until he leaned down to kiss you, and you guessed from the tart taste on his tongue that he had already had time to lick his fingers, tasting you that way.
— Maybe one day we'll have a house like your old one and you'll be free of your fears, but until then, I'll be there to support you every step of the way, Kaz, — you whispered gently with a slight blush on your cheeks, before you pulled him closer and hugged him tightly, hiding the tip of your nose in his hair.
Just a little thank you to all the Lucemond content creators across different platforms, you guys have made the last 2 months of 2022 into an excited and magical experience!
Warnings: smut in general, blowjob, soft Jesper, adorable Wylan
Summary: it's been a while since Wylan and Jesper shared some intimacy as Jesper works for days and nights but they manage to find a way back to each other
Word count: 3,1k
A/n: big thanks to @ikeneasul11 and @verygaynotherapy for their help with editing.
Wylan still couldn't believe that Jesper was his boyfriend. Jesper, who was loud and funny, who Wylan had seen hundreds of times make anyone, men or women, fall in love with him, flirting like it was a second language for him. No one could resist his charms. Wylan tried not to think about why Jesper chose him when he could have had anyone in Ketterdam, instead, he tried to enjoy the soft kisses and touches between them.
They spent less and less time together lately, so Wylan shone with happiness that today Jesper agreed to not only to have dinner at the Van Eck mansion, but to cook dinner for the two of them. It reminded him of the past, of all those nights they spent together in the kitchen at the Slat.
— I love cooking for you. It's always better compared with what I do for myself. And I don't want to brag, but you're a great cook under my influence, too, — Wylan joked, smiling infectiously. — This breakfast is incredibly delicious, for example.
Jesper knew he was already running late, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Wylan and ruin their rare moment of that almost domestic routine he liked so much. He finished everything with great appetite, hardly feeling hungover anymore, and glanced regretfully at his watch before turning to Wylan.
— Will you kiss me in a way I can't forget it all day?
No matter how much time they spent together, Jesper's feelings remained the same. He still wanted to care about Wylan and make him laugh as well as bring him gifts and treat him right, the way he deserved. And it was totally mutual. Wylan tensed briefly but nodded, feeling suddenly responsible for the kiss. They'd both always been very tactile with each other, but lately every casual touch was so rare that they had become worth their weight in gold. He couldn't remember the last time they'd slept together, still, he tried to shake his anxiety off.
Wylan waited until Jesper rose from the table and took the first dozen seconds to just stare into his dark eyes, stroking his cheek and then running his fingers down to the back of his neck, pressing gently and shortening the distance between their mouths. Jesper gave in easily and confidentl, he braided his arms around Wylan's waist as their lips finally joined with a quiver. He felt the familiar softness and pushed the tip of his tongue along Wylan's lower lip, circling wetly around the outline. He took his time, deliberately going slow to catch every little detail better, and then kissed Wylan for real, lingering with their tongues, while pressing himself closer to Wylan.
— I love you very much. I always will, I guess. And I'm really glad we're still together, I don't take that for granted, just so you know, — Jesper confessed confusedly, reminding himself of a teenager, and kissed Wylan again, his fingers tangling in Wylan's hair. He couldn't stop himself, managing to slide his palm under his shirt, but then he had to force himself to pull away, catching his breath while looking into Wylan's eyes. — I have to go, — Jesper stretched out sadly, not at all convincingly.
Wylan nodded cautiously, not the least bit surprised that their happy moment was interrupted again by some business matter of all things. It was a phrase he had been hearing more often recently than the cherished "I love you," but he didn't argue, because making this displeasure known wouldn't change anything. Spoiling each other's moods early in the morning wasn't something he wanted to do.
— I'll see you later, then. I'll be home, — Wylan retorted with exaggerated cheerfulness, as if saying that didn't leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and then he kissed the corner of Jesper's mouth once more before breaking the contact and turning his attention to the empty dishes he'd gathered together and taken to the sink to wash.
Quite often Jesper didn't know what he really wanted. Sometimes he thought that if Wylan asked him to stay, he wouldn't hesitate to jump into his arms and disappear from the rest of the world. But Wylan was too attentive, too caring and too gentle to reproach him seriously. That didn't stop him, however, from being upset. Even now he somehow shamefully wanted to cry himself to sleep alone at the Van Eck mansion.
The day had flown by when he distracted himself with household chores, and in the evening Wylan greeted his partner with such enthusiasm and joy, it looked almost like they had not seen each other in years.
— I took care of all the little things. I bought some groceries, changed the bedding, sorted out a new box of books and rearranged things in the dressing room, — Wylan followed him first into the bathroom and then into the bedroom, watching curiously as Jesper changed his clothes.
Jesper listened about Wylan's day with genuine interest, mentally thankful that he didn't have to answer the same questions. Wylan had long ago accepted what Kaz and the rest the Crows did, but some things still continued to scare him for their cruelty.
— Did we need to rearrange the dressing room? — Jesper teased a little, tenderness showing in his voice.
— No, but I had to keep myself busy with something. With mum being gone to visit her aunt and you being away in the Barrel, it became kind of lonely here.
But Wylan felt way more comfortable now, no longer confined to his solitude within these four walls. He had learnt how to love this house, every inch of it was familiar, and he could blindly name the position of every little thing on the shelves, but all of that was losing its charm while being stuck here alone, as if it was his personal prison, chosen of his own will.
— You've got me in your grip and won't let me go anywhere now, I hope? — Wylan smiled playfully, taking a couple of steps backward and dropping to the bed as Jesper approached him. He was well aware that dinner would have to wait, even before Jesper brought it up. — I imagined it tonight, you know. That you wouldn't let me go again. That you'd hold me to the table, that you'd kiss me more.
Wylan didn't have time to finish because Jesper was suddenly too close, the weight of his body was the first thing he felt on him, and the next second they were already kissing, unrestrained and greedy. Wylan instantly lost all control of the situation and was seized by that vivid passion he always felt when he was too close to Jesper. A barely audible moan escaped his lips as Jesper pressed against his groin in a familiar way and tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling away slightly. Their kiss was passionate and wet, almost painful, imbued with unsatisfied desire and fear of parting.
They had seen each other in all sorts of clothes and all stages of undress. Seen in different moods: sad, angry, joyful, irritated, bored, jealous, excited and happy. Jesper was literally the closest person to him, but now Wylan had to teach his body to trust Jesper again after a long hiatus. Maybe that's why he was so blown away immediately. His body's reactions were all too vivid and eloquent, obligingly showing that their lack of touch had clearly reached a new level. Even simple kisses got Wylan so turned on that his own heart pounded in his ears, making his blood pump faster than necessary, turning the anticipation into a pleasant heaviness in his lower abdomen.
— I just… — he said confusedly, pulling his head to the side as Jesper nuzzled his neck with soft kisses. — Sometimes I feel like I miss you even when you're next to me, you know? Before… before, even after a day apart, we'd pounce on each other at the first opportunity, even after the longest day we would always find time for each other, but now I hardly see you, even though we literally sleep in the same bed. I fall asleep when you're gone and I wake up when you've already left. And I'm afraid to think about it because I don't know if it's just because we've been together for so long and our feelings are getting cold, that you find other activities more interesting than me and I have to get over it, or that something has gone wrong between us and I really have to worry about it.
— Babe, I know I've been hanging around the Barrel doing Kaz's dirty work the last few weeks, but it has nothing to do with our relationship. I swear, my feelings for you are just as strong as ever and I miss you endlessly and I think about you a lot, always, — Jesper immediately tried to reassure him, feeling Wylan's insecurities and doubts too well.
The next moment he leaned back to Wylan with another hot kiss. He didn't hold back his fervor and wasn't cautious. Quickly he pushed assertively with his tongue, getting past a row of teeth, licking greedily as he let the wet smack of their kisses spread across their bedroom. Jesper had waited too long and missed Wylan too much so he tried to show it now, by reaching down with his free palm to cover Wylan's groin, squeezing hard, as if he was checking if their reactions to each other still worked in the same way.
They had used sex for many purposes throughout their relationship: to express desire and need, to show feelings, to make amends, and to make things right after a stormy argument. Now it was a way to get back to each other and find themselves again. Jesper marked his partner's neck in the most direct way possible, thinking of how the already forming hickey would be a reminder of who really belonged to whom. He ran his tongue over the reddish patch of skin and then moved lower to leave kisses all over Wylan's collarbones.
— You're the most beautiful person to me. I love you more than anything in the world, and I want you, no, I need you to remember that, — Jesper whispered sweetly, throwing a burning gaze to his lover, and moved lower, taking the clothes off Wylan. Jesper's tongue was quickly near the perks of his nipples, while his fingers crawled slowly under Wylan's underwear.
— You are unbelievable. Just look at the effect you have on me, — Wylan's face lit up with a smile and the tips of his ears turned red with embarrassment as he impatiently pushed himself into Jesper's palm now without the barrier of clothing, showing him how ready he was.
— I don't want to watch, I want to taste. To feel you on my tongue again, — Jesper said plentifully, not even trying to hide the desire in his dark eyes.
Wylan's pants flew somewhere on the floor along with his underwear, but Jesper paid no attention to it anymore, staring admiringly at his lover's evident arousal and smiling contentedly. He was between Wylan's legs the next moment, running down a path of soft kisses on the inside of his thigh, biting playfully there only to quickly return his attention to Wylan's cock. His fingers circled the sticky head around it. The tip of his tongue collected a drop of precum, and Jesper had an extremely smug look, unashamed of anything.
— I didn't think about others during those months. Even when I got someone else's attention, I still thought only of you. You alone deserve a place in my bed, — he was being frank again, before leaving a kiss on his partner's thigh.
Pleasure overshadowed Wylan's consciousness, and Jesper's actions seemed particularly intimate and proper. Only Jesper knew all his weaknesses and was now brazenly taking advantage of them, making Wylan moan louder as well as making his hips quiver.
— You look so seductive when you're between my legs, did I tell you that? — he spoke teasingly as he squeezed Jesper's shoulder approvingly. — More, love, I need more.
Jesper slid lips over his shaft, pressing his tongue tightly against the inside, and drew his cheeks in. He was filled with a sincere joy, almost childlike, when he felt directly the way Wylan's cock trembled on his tongue. It made him want to moan even louder. Jesper deliberately chose a leisurely pace, stretching everything into a sweet, exhausting torture, and swallowed the tart taste of precum, forcing his muscles to contract for more pleasure.
It felt good to turn off his head and follow the simple mechanics of these familiar movements. His own arousal didn't go anywhere, still gathering in a tight lump in his lower abdomen. But it wasn't distracting, because now he was much more engrossed in the need to feel Wylan like this. Jesper let the hard cock go further down and waited for a while, reveling in the feeling of tightness and tension in his throat, swallowing all of his excess saliva. He knew from experience how amazing that tightness felt.
His lungs burned with fire from the lack of oxygen, but Jesper endured, finding a strange pleasure in the asphyxiation. His muscles contracted reflexively, and he knew from Wylan's long groan that he, too, felt the shudder. Only then did he gently pull away with a loud pop and coughed, finally catching his breath and looking at Wylan quite happily.
— I fucking missed moments like this, princess.
Wylan felt what was happening so vividly that he had to clutch at the sheets with trembling fingers. He opened his eyes, meeting his partner's gaze, and was ready to whimper just at the sight of him, involuntarily jerking his hips upward barely noticeably. His arousal had been put off for so long, and was therefore so heightened now, that for a second Wylan thought he would cum just from this, like a teenager, after only a few minutes of such stunning caress.
Jesper playfully left another bite on Wylan's thigh and carefully pulled him to flip him onto his stomach. Already familiar with the process, Wylan thrust his hips upward and didn't bother to hold back a surprised shriek when a hard slap reached his buttocks.
– Even if you cum now, I'll still go on, — Jesper warned as if it were meant to frighten Wylan, though his voice was too low and seductive. He added some lube to his fingers and then put two at once to the clenched ring of muscle and pressed gently. Wylan exhaled sharply, and his cheeks flushed at these words.
— My fingers don't feel as good as yours do. Nothing feels as good as you do.
The abundance of lube made it easier, and Jesper acted unhurriedly but confidently enough, moving his fingers progressively. The hot elastic muscles were slowly stretching. They clenched the phalanges within them so that the mere thought of replacing them with his cock and feeling that narrowness directly made Jesper want to reach the peak.
All of Wylan's concentration went into keeping himself from cumming, so he had no control over his moans and sighs, that burst out of him with each new movement of Jesper's fingers. Nor did he control the way his hips impatiently moved back towards his lover, trying to deepen his thrusts and get even more pleasure.
— Please, please fuck me, Jes, please, — he whimpered, arching his back harder and peering out from behind his shoulder to notice the same intense desire in his boyfriend's eyes.
— I love it when you beg. When you languish like this, all ready for me and only me, — Jesper leaned in with a chuckle and traced caressing kisses along Wylan's back, but he didn't play any more, feeling himself how hard it was to contain the acute arousal.
He pressed his fingertips firmly into Wylan's thighs, surely leaving marks for the future, but he paid no attention to them, and with a confident thrust drove his hard shaft all the way in. He froze, breathing heavily, and gave them both some time to get used to each other all over again, and then began a measured movement, steering Wylan's hips so that he was directly thrusting into him, listening to the wet slaps of skin against skin.
Wylan mumbled something between "Jess," "I love you," and "please" into the pillow and finally let out a long, hoarse moan as Jesper began to stretch the muscles inside harder, pressing on the sensitive points. His moans were still Jesper's favorite thing in the world. Addressed only to him, evoked only by him. He listened carefully to each one, memorized them again, and saved them deep in his memory, like a thief who kept his bounty. He was thankful that they had the whole house to themselves and didn't have to hold back or worry about the volume.
Jesper frankly admired the sight of his cock hiding inside Wylan's body and stroked his buttocks. He leaned lower and pressed close against Wylan's heated body, ending up with kisses near his shoulder and the curve of his neck, while the bedroom was filled with the vulgar sounds of hard thrust.
— Cum, sweetheart. Do it for me. I'll keep going and I can get you going all over again. Come on, babe, you deserve it, — Jesper allowed finally, running his palms over his partner's chest. He grabbed his nipples in between his fingers and then confidently scratched along his belly on the sensitive skin before he covered Wylan's dick with his palm, helping him loose control and get a release. Jesper pushed harder, letting a new moan come off his lips, and slapped his ass again, trying to affect Wylan's pleasure in every way possible at once.
Wylan heard these words as if it was coming through thick water, but he still could understand their meaning. He needed that permission now, and the praise that followed only added bright colors. He let go of his self-control as Jesper quickened his pace and began to push into his body harder, pushing them both to the edge. Wylan groaned, squeezing to bright colored spots under his eyes as his orgasm finally overtook him, making him clench his muscles from the inside and speed up an orgasm for Jesper as well.
There was no clear thought in his head, only a fog of tenderness and love, while a pleasant exhaustion pierced his body, and Jesper moved gently to face Wylan and pull him closer before he left light kisses on his cheeks and lips, smiling happily.
— If you're always this hot and needy after a break, I'll ask Kaz to load me up with work again before next weekend. I feel like a teenager around you, and I fall in love with you more and more every day, princess.
