Let Us Wile Away the Hours
OCTOBER 22 --- JACEMOND WEEK , 2025 :: TABOO
smutt sucks everything else is pretty dope
CW ::
noncon / rape
forced feminization
"What if he doesn't like me?" Jace sighed, playing with the frontal lacing of his corset.
"I'm sure your uncle Aemond will adore you." Daemon piped up from the doorway, tilting his head slightly as he studied the scene afoot.
His wife, Rhaenyra, busied herself with the task of taming the unruly locks that had been Jacaerys' hair. His curls were much looser than they had once been, before he presented as an omega. She supposed the hormones and the weight of his newly grown out hair had changed certain things about Jacaerys.
Jace sat calmly, fidgeting with his hands that had once wielded swords. Those, too, had grown soft and delicate. In childhood, Jace remembered being stout. With brawny little digits and a barreling center, he could wrestle any of his peers to the dirt.
Of course, because of his physique and competitive nature, everyone had assumed Jace would grow to be an alpha.
They dressed him masculine doublets with thick fabric upon the shoulders to make him look broader. He remembered how cold the golden clasps of them were against his chest in the morning -- along with the chafing from how rough the material was against his skin.
Now, all he seen in the mirror had been the ideal omega.
Long, thick hair that had been braided and wrapped to look like little chocolate roses upon the base of his skull. His brown eyes glimmered with the lapping flames of surrounding candles. They were large, constantly peering upwards due to his stunted height; not to mention his eyelashes. Coated in blackened beeswax that had been applied with a small, coarse hairbrush, he looked like a proper little fawn.
But overall, his curves seemed to draw the most attention.
Jace lacked breasts, but that hadn't been much of a surprise. Not only was he born male, but his second gender didn't advance onto him until he had been fifteen years of age. This fact didn't trouble Jace, his rump made up for his inadequate chest and his waist sinched in just enough to create an illusion of greater figure than he had.
And the dress they stuck him in? Well, the silky pink of the fabric captured light so well that his mother, along with many of the maids, had collectively decided that it would be the perfect garment for meeting his betrothed. However, the wrap had been fairly loose, so they did some last-minute-tailoring and added some golden rings to the front in a traditional boning structure. With some ribbon tied into pretty bows, the image of Jacaerys Velaryon -- soon to be Targaryen -- was a perfectly painted picture.
It wasn't a question how Jace felt about the situation. He was to be king someday, and he did exactly what he was told to ensure his spot on the throne. But this?
He didn't utter a complaint, but being a helpless omega wasn't what he planned nor hoped for.
There was enjoyment in being pretty. Primal urges were satisfied when gorged on his reflection, but there were numerous times when Jace felt he had been prepared for more in life than to simply be his uncle's wife. He found solace in being pampered and only fraught by simple things like how his hair hadn't cooperated for the day, or how his eyelashes weren't perfectly symmetrical; but he missed when a steel sword much too large for him had been a familiar weight on his hip. Now, all he was permitted to wield had been a small dagger strapped to his thigh under his skirts.
Jace thought it beat the purpose of having it if he couldn't reach it in the matter of seconds, but he didn't object. He'd rather something than nothing, and a feminine little knife was much better than empty air.
Though, he wouldn't need that kind of defense if Aemond was half the swordsman the family had preached.
Jace shifted uncomfortably, the straightness of his back faltering for a few moments. The air in Kings Landing was stale compared to Dragonstone. Full of the smoke of a thousand miniature hearths and piss. He wondered how he was supposed to live here once his mother's reign began.
Rhaenyra made a little noise of delight as she pinned the final twisted braid into the array of others, clearly proud of her handiwork and skill for this particular hairstyle. A cluster of Dornish handmaidens, many years ago, had taught her how to do it on a rather long boat venture. It wasn't a question why she was so brightened by the finished product; she finally got to put her knowledge to good use.
"Oh, you look lovely, Jace." His mother sighed, smoothing a hand over her gowns as she rose to her feet. Jace only gave himself a slight glance in the glass, before peering back to his hands. He could feel the weight of his parents' eyes on him, and the expectations of him that hung in the air like a potent aroma. He was to wed Aemond Targaryen within the fortnight.
The creek of the chamber doors drew the attention of the room, Jace's breath hitching as if his intuition told him exactly what she was there for. A garden walk was to be had late in the evening, Alicent had told Rhaenyra. This was his beckoning.
A maid emerged quietly into the threshold of the room, drawing in a slight gasp at the sight of Jace. Nobody in the Red Keep had ever really seen him before, not since his birth. His mother fled to Dragonstone the day Jace came wailing into the world with her sworn protector, Ser Harwin Strong, in hopes to avoid the bastardization of her son. Of course, word found its way around and everyone knew that he wasn't trueborn -- but what did that matter when their houses were to join?
The small maid swallowed tightly, gaunt arms wrapping around her back as she bowed her head in respect of the comely omega. She was a beta; the whole room could scent it. Freshly cut grass and a tang of cinnamon, lacking all whiff of that primitive desire that was heady amongst alphas and omegas alike. A purity, Jace thought. Betas were like gems to the Targaryen's.
"Prince Aemond requests your company in the keep gardens, my..." she trailed off, looking for the correct verbiage in addressing a male omega, soon to be a wife.
The edges of Daemon's mouth curled upwards, almost pretentious in nature. "-Princess. Jacaerys will be a princess, before he is a queen." His father finished, though it didn't feel much like a jest. His tone was unwavering.
"Right, pardon me, princess." The woman breathed nervously, clearly unaccustomed to omegas, especially male ones. Even Helaena, who Jacaerys knew had been described to him as closed off and quiet, was a beta.
Jace's jaw clenched, his chest tightening at the realization that he was expected. Everyone surrounding him seemed giddy, even though it was him who had to go and act on his duties. With a deep inhale, he stood. His hands folded at his front, and his posture straightened. His uncle -- his betrothed -- awaited him in the gardens.
And wait, Aemond did.
With a growl, he hastily paced the corridor. Fidgeting with his leather gloves, straightening his clothing a score of times before fixating on how his nephew may not like his natural hair, and how he had wished he ironed it before their little date.
The situation was juvenile and obsolete in the grand scheme of things. They were going to be married, which meant seeing one another to their dying days. But this step was a rather large one, considering the only thing he knows about his fiancé was that he had long dark locks, and he was an omega.
But all was quiet when he heard the whispering click of flats against the marbled floors. Stepping with measured grace, he could tell just by the sound. It was a steady rhythm, almost hypnotic in its wake.
Jacaerys turned the corner and hardly gave Aemond a second glance. His pace remained in that gentle beat, the maid behind him scurrying to keep up as she carried miscellaneous items for other tasks she bared.
The first thing Aemond had taken great notice of was the incredibly strong stench of citrus and sugar. There was a dash of that baser need, but that was something Aemond had grown well acquainted with.
Then, it was that perfectly pink dress. Shimmering in shades of gold and peach, like glitter on a silk ocean. It contoured his shapely form better than any omega he's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.
His hair was quick to snag his attention. Just as the rumors described; elegant and put together.
The second thing he took notice of was the pale, milky color Jacaerys' skin had taken the shade of. He was so fair in tone, he nearly looked kissed by the moonlight itself.
What had truly held Aemond captive, however, was Jace's eyes. They were harsh, despite the posh exterior that had been put on. His emotions swirled in them like angry hurricanes, begging to be seen and acknowledged.
The mere image Jace had been spiked something in Aemond. Something new, something grotesque. A need so animalistic and baser, he hardly recognized it as himself.
But instead of acting upon it, his lips curled upwards in a hospitable smile. The glimmer in his violet eyes remained. Because, in spite of darker things brewing in his gut, Jace was still a beautiful sight to behold. Any alpha would be beaming at the opportunity Aemond held.
As Jace approached, Aemond held a charming hand out. Tilting his head slightly, quirking a brow as if to ask him silently to take his arm. When Jace followed without question, the words "my dearest" left Aemond's lips before he could help it.
𓆣
Aemond had been stroking Jace's cheek when the boy roused from sleep. Gently petting his prey, half naked and holding the silky pink dress that had been clad to Jace's body in the boys last memory. He recalled the awkward small talk, and the rest they took to nurse on a glass or two of wine. What exactly had he been doing in...
Jace's eyes fluttered open fully, taking in the expanse of the room around him. Within the stuttered moment, his gaze was blowing out wide in shock. When he went to move from his awkward sitting position, he found himself bound to the chair.
These weren't his chambers. No, this space was far too large to be anything but Aemond's bedroom. Why was he here? Better yet, how did he get here?
Aemond simpered, chuckling nervously as he drew his hand down Jace's bare chest. His hand trembled as he palmed the flatness of the boy's breasts, a shaky breath leaving his lips.
"Aemond?" Jace inquired softly, obviously nervous at what exactly the future entailed. He was extremely puzzled by his state of bondage. "What is the meaning of this, uncle?" He huffed, shrinking away from Aemond's touch.
Within the second, Jace's senses seemed to broaden. Suddenly, the potent odor of an alpha's libido mixed with cedar wood and rain nearly suffocated Jace. His jaw went slack at the scent, his body instinctively buckling at the dominance displayed. Aemond was pressing harshly into him by then, desperate to present himself as a worthy mate to Jace.
Then, the rich aroma of slick stuffed his nose after. It was then when Jace fully processed his state of nudity, nearly wailing at the humiliation. He was stronger than this; stronger than whatever complex rope constraint he had been caught in. He was still lost as to why he was here!
They were to be wed. There was no meaning for this twisted debauchery.
What had been worse was that his body was arching towards Aemond. Like he needed an alpha more than his safety right now... what the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he get a grip on himself?!
Vehemently, he tugged at the knots around his wrists. Thrashing, grinding his teeth as he clawed at the ornate wood of the chair's legs.
Aemond only smiled wider, seeming almost in a frenzy of need. "Shh," he hushed gently, pressing a harsh thumb to the plump rosebud of Jace's lips. "You're exactly where you need to be, with your king in his bedchambers..." his uncle nearly growled. It had been simply scary, nothing more nor less. Though, Jace couldn't deny how enticing his mannerisms had been.
He moved languidly; in a roll of muscles, crashing down onto Jace any time he dipped to interact.
"I just can't get enough of the picture you make like this." Aemond croaked, dragging his hand down to the small cock that nestled between Jace's thighs.
Ah, and even after all of this time, Jace supposed his cock gave away his omega all along. Even before presenting, it had been slight. Pathetic, most alphas would describe.
But now, as his uncle grinded the heel of his palm against the strange erection forming there, the last thing he was concerned with was its size.
Hotness struck Jace like a physical blow. The experience had been like boiling water sliding down his throat and into his belly, settling into his loins and causing them to ache. He let out a strangled cry, dew beading on his brow. Jace huffed. "Aemond, what's happening?" He begged, fingers grasping at empty air. There was no grounding, no safety in this new space. His first night in the Red Keep, and he was already helplessly tied down. Of course, Aemond only snickered with that wild grin spreading upon his features, like he had accomplished something with significant success.
"The Maester tells naught lie," he began, wrapping his calloused and nimble fingers around the base of Jace's cock. "The correct combination of herbs is enough to induce a heat."
Jace gaped in horror, before whimpering at the spike of pleasure coursing through his veins. It was fervent, worse than any heat he had ever endured. His blood clawed at his flesh, expanding and shrinking with every drum of his heartbeat. The ropes were hardly necessary at this point, for Jace lacked all control of his body. Aemond's jaw flexed, that gleam in his eyes seeming to be all but wicked now. He watched closely as he assaulted Jacaerys' cock, his gaze dark and attentive. "You're making a mess of my hand, pretty wife." Aemond cooed, carefully observing Jace's reaction to his words.
Jace simply crooned, gasping out in hopes to regain some semblance of control. All he found was the face of his uncle, with an expression twisted by dark delight. It spurred his climax on impossibly quicker.
He came dry, as many omegas did. Smothered in his alphas scent, petrified that the fact that his first time coming by someone else's hand had been entirely unwillingly and somehow far more enjoyable than he had ever imagined it being.
"Aemond--" He began, brows furrowed in distress as his uncle began to frantically untie him from the chair. Jace was dazed, woozy from the orgasm and the lingering heat that still raged in his bowels. But his mind had been active, still flickering with defiance that searched for opportunities like hounds on a hunt. As Aemond undoing the last knot of his leg, Jace remained seemingly delirious. Slurring his words while gazing upon the older man.
It was only when the last, coarse rope had fallen to the ground when Jace bolted for the door. He stumbled on his feet, clambering at the lock when he finally made it. Only, Aemond had been faster than Jace's flailing hands. A mere breath passed before Aemond was behind Jace, wrapping a strong arm around his front and hauling him to the bed.
Jace squealed at being thrown down on the plush duvet, hands immediately scrounging up bunched of fabric so he could effectively scramble to the headboard. He heaved, that scent that clung to Aemond making his body go slightly slack. Fighting became impossible once more as Aemond crawled to the apex of the bed. Grabbing Jace's ankles, he tugged the boy's pelvis to his groin.
Aemond found little trouble in shoving Jace down onto his back. Jace crumbled easily, moaning quietly when he felt Aemond's hands near the shared heat of their sex's, undoing the strings of his trousers lazily. Aemond's head lolled to the side as he pulled his cock from the confines of his breeches. He hummed lowly at the comparison of his cock to Jace's, in awe at how lovely his little wife looked.
Without much thought, Aemond hauled Jace's legs up to his shoulders. The boy's ankles found his shoulders, propping up comfortably with little fight. As Jace did this, Aemond took the opportunity to drag the head of his cock in between the exposed cleave of Jace's ass. He coated his tip in slick, groaning at the burning sensation kissing his genitals.
There was hardly an instant before Aemond was pressing into Jace. The pair of them threw their heads back at the bolts of ecstasy that suddenly jolted through them, animalistic desires being prodded at and teased just enough to spur on a thunder of thrust.
All Jace could do was lay there and take it, slipping in and out of a drunken haze of rapture and the reality of the situation.
His uncle, his betrothed, was fucking him on the very night they had met. Morale melted with the white hotness that blurred at the edges of Jace's vision. He would deal with the guilt later. For now, he would lay under his king and relish in the abuse of his womb.
After a few beats of their hips meeting, Aemond moaned and came with no warning.
Jace laid their unceremoniously. A used sex toy, limp and nearly lifeless. Aemond jerked him off until Jace eventually climbed to the height of his second orgasm.
In that moment, everything had been simple.