⋆˙⟡lavender⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ 25; she/her; writer of general (and sometimes weirdly specific) smut ⋆˙⟡

[more-lavender-syrup]

The Prince's Heir

Description: Daemon returned home from battle with one very specific thing in mind. Despite your sleeping state, you're more than willing to give it to him. Word Count: 1,882 Warnings/Notes: PIV, breeding kink, reader is asleep in the beginning, Daemon is manipulative (isn't be always?), Daemon wants an heir Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!WifeReader

A set of black boots, bloodied from battle, thudded against the floor beside the bed. A man pulled his shirt over his head before discarding it onto the floor below. The bed dipped inward and the blankets lifted off of the mattress as the familiar shape climbed inside. Slowly, the man began to inch closer to your sleeping form, careful not to wake you.

You flinched, feeling yourself awaken as the man pressed his chest to your back.

“Daemon?” You asked through the darkness. Your mind was still asleep and it was far too dark to see anything in the room. 

You got your answer when a familiar set of lips pressed against your cheek. 

He smelled of ash and sweat; like battle and victory. You were sure in the morning you would see all of the new bruises that painted his pale skin.

But for now, all you could feel was gratefulness that he was safe.

You were sure that you had seen the battle in a dream; images of Daemon riding Caraxes and ordering the beast to burn everything to ash flashed through your mind, painting the pale prince in a crueler light. But, as you lay there, the dream became foggier.

His hands slid across your back, searching for the quickest access to your body.

“The tie is behind my neck.” You said. You were still half asleep as his hand drifted upward and began tugging at the thin pieces of ribbon.

“You can go back to sleep.” He whispered. Once the knot was undone, he wasted no time. He pushed a dirty hand under the white linen of your nightgown, caressing the soft skin of your back. His other hand carefully pulled the material off of your shoulders and began to usher it downward. The material drifted over your knees before he pulled it completely free of your form and discarded it onto the cold floor below. You were left completely bare, with only your husband to keep you warm.

He wanted to relish this moment; savor the fact that his bride had been waiting, warm and soft for him. He had fought valiantly, after all. He had defended the realm and fulfilled his princely duty.

You spread your naked thighs for him, your chest still pressed against your pillows. This wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for the two of you. In fact, it had become something of a tradition. 

His hands moved across the small of your back before he groped your ass.

“You’ll be so beautiful, darling.”

“Hmm?” You asked. 

With each movement, he peppered more kisses across your face. It was his way of showering you in perverted adoration. You were the goddess that he would die to defend; a little piece of heaven that was his to love, touch, and fuck. He didn’t need the Faith of the Seven, so long as he had you to bury himself in every single night.

“I missed you.” You whispered. 

“I missed you, too. I missed you every hour that I was gone.”

The bed trembled as Daemon carefully undid his pants and then pulled them over his pale thighs.

His lips grazed the shell of your ear. Somewhere down the hall, you heard a cask of wine collide with a wall. Several men cheered in response.

“They’re celebrating.” Daemon offered. “You can go back to sleep. I’ll be gentle.”

“Do you wish to join them?” You mumbled. Your voice was muffled by the ocean of blankets that surrounded you.

“No.” He had come home with a mission. 

Daemon worked quickly, pushing a hand underneath your body so that it was between your warm form and the mattress. He gently reached his hand under your hips. His fingers ghosted through your folds, carefully finding your clit in the darkness. The pads of his finger swirled small circles over the bud. Jolts of pleasure shot through you, making you gasp and grab at the sheet that surrounded you.

After a moment, he pulled his hand away. You whined at the loss of contact. But, getting you to finish wasn’t the point; at least, not right now. 

“It’s alright, darling. I’ll take care of you.” You knew he would. He leaned downward and pressed a quick kiss against your naked shoulder before he glanced downward to see a growing slickness between your legs. With that, he pulled his hand from under your hips. He folded his fingers into a fist, leaving only his index finger free. 

Carefully, he slid one finger between your folds. He poked at your entrance, making sure not to move too fast. You sighed, feeling his finger slide inside of you.

“Daemon.” You gasped, overwhelmed by the feel of stretching around him. A free hand drifted upward, moving so that his large palm covered the back of your hand. 

“What would you do to please me?” He whispered, his eyes still fixed on where your body was swallowing him.

“Anything. Anything in the world.” He grinned at your words; he knew you would do whatever he wished.

“Give me an heir.” He whispered. The request caught you off guard. You didn’t know why; it made perfect sense for a prince to want a child. However, it had never been something that he had directly asked you for.

“What?”

He pulled his finger free, watching as it glistened in the dim light.

He then leaned down, moving his face so that he was closer to your open thighs. You felt him drop a long line of spit against your core, guaranteeing that you would be able to take him.

The warm drool pooled between your folds.

“Give me an heir.”

“What?” You asked.

You felt his heavy cock against your thigh. He had come home from battle desperate; needy.

“Don’t you want a gaggle of silver haired babes running around?”

“Uh yes, but-”

“Wouldn’t you like to feel a part of me growing inside of you?”

“I- uh” your head was fuzzy from sleep and he was saying so much, so fast. He had clearly practiced the routine on the way home.

“Don’t you want the gift of carrying a prince’s child? A Targaryen child?”

Daemon’s child.

It would be a gift, from him to you.

You nodded against the pillow. 

Suddenly, you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance. Then, in one smooth movement, he pushed inside of you, stretching you so wide that you gasped.

“Daemon!” 

You twitched around him, trying to adjust to his size.

“What do you want, darling? Is there something you want to ask me for?” He leaned down and peppered a series of kisses along your bare shoulder. Each motion was gentle; loving. It was a beautiful contradiction to the saccharine manipulation that was going on.

You had finally stretched to accommodate him. Now, all you wanted was for him to move. But, instead, he was staying completely still. 

Why isn’t he moving? 

You rolled your hips upward, moving until his length almost slipped out of you. Then, you pushed yourself back, fucking yourself with Daemon’s cock. 

“I want to give you an heir.”

He lifted his face from your bare skin, only to move his lips to the shell of your ear.

“I don’t believe I heard you, darling.”

“Please let me give you a child.” You begged.

He grinned, pleased with himself. He had gotten his way, as always. 

Now, he could give you what you wanted. 

He slid his hips backward and then slammed back inside of you, claiming you as his own. 

Daemon had the special ability to turn any idea of his around; now, it seemed like it was your idea, more than anything else. And he was merely the dutiful prince, always willing to please his ladylove. 

You didn’t understand why he had never been selected to be the Hand of the King; he could convince you to do anything in the world. Then again you had always felt that the Daemon you saw, the man who would call you pet names and coo to you on nights when you couldn’t sleep, was not the same man who could beat rival soldiers to death with helmets. The man you got was a harmless, silver-haired angel.

You bounced your hips backward, taking him inside of you over and over. 

Daemon pressed his forehead against yours; you could hear the hitches in his breathing with every thrust.

Daemon groaned; he was close. 

His rough hands traced your naked form, taking in every dip and curve as you grinded against him. He wanted to feel you; all of you. Despite the fact that he was buried inside of you, with the weight of his body pressing against yours, you both still wanted to be closer. 

“Harder.” You begged. Your husband happily obliged, hitting so deep inside of you that you saw stars. 

It took only a minute of the breakneck pace for your head to fall against the pillow as a wave of heat shot through you. You gasped, feeling pleasure begin to shoot through you as your body clenched and spasmed around him. 

He groaned, feeling himself fall over the edge after you. You felt a sudden flood of warm wetness fill you as he fucked himself as deep into your core as possible. 

All you could do was writhe between the bed and his warm body.

The pleasure slowly died down, leaving your bodies tangled in a sweaty mess.

He held your hips against his, making sure that every drop had been drained into you. He didn’t want to risk any part going to waste. 

Daemon whispered something against your skin, but you didn’t hear what it was. You were also too tired to ask. 

You inched your thighs open, expecting him to slide out. However, he remained firmly in place, his lips still dancing over your exposed skin. 

“I’m going to give it a little while. Just to make sure it takes.”

The exhaustion that you had felt earlier was eating away at your thoughts. You wanted to say something to him, but anytime you tried to open your mouth, whatever you were about to say slipped away before it could come out. 

Daemon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. 

“You can go back to sleep, darling. I’ll be here to take care of you.” He cooed. 

Strong hands reached out and grasped the edge of the blanket. Daemon carefully pulled the blanket around you, tucking you in so that you could be warm. 

“I love you.” He whispered. It was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

He remained inside of you, thrusting every so often when he would begin to go soft. 

You had many dreams that night. Each one was filled with Daemon’s adoring voice. There was no battle; no bloodshed. 

At the end of one of the dreams, you could not find Daemon. You had found him in your bedroom. He was speaking softly to himself as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He had been so lost in his own world that he didn’t even notice you come in. After a moment, though, he turned, showing you the silver haired babe that he was holding. 

[more-lavender-syrup]

Power Play

Description: You knew something was wrong when you awakened to Daemon missing. However, when he comes home wounded, you do your best to comfort him in every way possible. But it would be much easier if Daemon didn’t turn everything into a power struggle Word Count: 3,083 Warnings/Notes: this is pretty much entirely smit, oral (m!receiving), PIV, riding, reader stitches Daemon's wound, reader has prophetic dreams that people ignore, Daemon can’t handle being taken care of so he turns it into a power play Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!WifeReader

It was the same melody, played over and over again. It was a song of screams and fire.

He was hurt; you knew it. You had felt it, as if you yourself had been maimed. But, despite the terror that coursed through you, your eyes still searched the darkness. 

Your hand searched for a warm form in the bed. But, when nothing was found, you opened your eyes only to see the empty space that remained. 

You had been wrong before. It didn’t happen often, but you had been wrong. 

Cold night air bit at your skin as you pushed yourself upward. The blankets that covered you slid downward, pooling at your torso to expose your naked form below.

“Daemon?” You called. 

He had been there when you had fallen asleep. But, now the only proof that remained of him was the indention in the mattress beside you. 

“Daemon, please?” You called again. Yet, there was no answer. You quickly pushed yourself out of bed and reached for the thin nightgown that he had expertly stripped off of you hours before. 

Pulling it on, you searched for any sign of him. Somewhere in the hall, you heard someone speak.

“Daemon?”

You quickly stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind you.

A group of handmaids were lurking in the hallway. They each turned their tired eyes to you, searching for some kind of explanation.

“Are you alright? We heard you yelling.” One of the women asked as her eyes dragged over your thin gown.

“Where’s my husband?” You asked.

“The king said that he left. His majesty said that Prince Daemon was needed for something. I think he said something about a crab, but I didn’t hear what.” It was clear that the handmaid was exhausted.

“When did he leave?” You asked. But the woman could only shake her head. She had no idea.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath as you rushed down the hallway. Surely someone who could help would still be up. Perhaps the maester was still awake; he was usually willing to humor you.

You bounded down a staircase and then made a sharp left down a tiny corridor. But, as you rounded a corner, a set of arms shot outward and quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. The form pulled you backward before your back hit the wall beside you.

Panic shot through your body as you remembered the stories of maidens being taken in the night. You struggled in the darkness, only to hear a familiar story slice through your fantasies.

“It’s just me.” Daemon whispered as he pulled his hand away from your face. 

“Where’s your guard? Do you know how easy it would have been to snatch you and vanish into the night?” He scolded. You rolled your eyes. 

“The only person attacking people at this time of night is you.” He frowned at the comment. You squirmed in his arms, however he did not release you. Instead, he began to inspect you, searching for some idea as to what you were doing out in the middle of the night. You could feel his heartbeat through his thin clothes. Warmth seemed to radiate off of his skin, warming you to your core.

As his body pressed against yours, you felt a hot rush of liquid soak into the material of your dress. He was bleeding.

***

You had insisted on helping him back to your shared room. However, with each step, he scoffed and told you that he was perfectly fine. The blood that was dripped from his leg with every step told a different story. 

When you reached the room, you helped shuffle him to the bed. Then, you rushed to get the small kit that the maester had left behind for you. The maester was well aware of Daemon’s aversion to help; the hope had been that Daemon was more willing to accept help from his wife, rather than the maester. And, on occasion, that had been exactly the case.

You glanced over at the bed, only to see Daemon watching you like a lion watches his prey.

“Pants. Off. Now.” You instructed as you began to make your way back to the bed. He rolled his eyes, however he did as he had been told. 

He began to undo his pants. As he worked, he emphasized each movement. You watched as he stripped down, checking for any new wounds that would require your attention.

As he pulled his pants downward, his already hard cock sprung free.

“Now, if this is what you wanted then you could have simply asked. It’s a prince’s duty to never leave a lady in need.”

“I’m well aware of what you think your duty is.” I mumbled. 

There was a gash that covered the side of his calf. Blood wept from the wound, staining the blankets below.

“What happened?”

“A man took a cheap shot. Luckily it wasn’t valyrian steel or else I would have lost the leg.” Daemon said it so casually. 

You quickly knelt downward and began to poke and prod at the wound. You removed the small pieces of shrapnel and dirt that had sunk into the wound. After a moment, you began to speak.

“You could have died.”

“And yet,” he waved a bloodied arm to demonstrate his point, “I’m still here to piss you off.” You rolled your eyes as you carefully finished cleaning the wound. 

The gash was deep; but not so deep that you needed to send for a maester.

Once you were satisfied, you reached for the small sewing set that lay at the bottom of the box. Daemon watched you thread the needle with a deep fascination, though when you actually began to work, he turned his attention to the ceiling above him.

“You shouldn’t be up at this hour. You also shouldn’t be wandering around without a guard.” He scolded.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You said as you carefully sewed the wound shut. Each stitch was carefully placed. You just needed the wound to close and heal properly. It didn’t need to look pretty.

“Then you could have called for one of your handmaids to keep your company.” Daemon said. He didn’t want you to be alone at night; not when there was a chance you could be hurt. “You can’t do this again. Do you have any idea how easy it would have been for you to have been killed?”

“I’m not going to force someone else to endure my paranoia.” You said as you tied a knot on the end of the thread. 

“I don’t want you wandering around at night. Not when anyone could be roaming around.” You reached for the scissors that you had placed beside his thigh. You carefully snipped the thread, content with your makeshift patch that you had sewn on his leg. It should hold for now; at least, long enough for him to heal. 

“I had a dream about you. That’s why I went looking for you.” You said. That was enough to make Daemon’s face twitch. “I dreamed that you were injured. That you had gotten shot off your dragon and that you were lying somewhere.”

His face twitched again. He would never admit it to you, but that was far closer to the truth than the story he had told you. He had lied to you to keep you from worrying; maybe if you thought that he was never in any real danger, then you would be fine.

You pushed the needle back into the pin cushion and then dropped it back into the box beside you. He turned his gaze from the ceiling to you.

You lay a hand on his leg. His skin was speckled with flecks of blood. New bruises painted his skin and they would only get darker by morning. As your fingers traced his skin, his mind drifted to less tender things. You didn’t even notice until something glinted faintly in the candlelight. 

Clear fluid was leaking from his cock.

“Daemon.” You said. His eyes burned into your skin. He didn’t bother to answer. He already knew what you would do; you had always been so sweet to him. You had always been such a good and dutiful wife.

You watched his cock bob against him. He was aching with need. 

Maybe if you were very careful then it would be fine.

You sighed as you crawled closer to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You said. 

“Shouldn’t I be worried about hurting you?” He asked. It was true; Daemon had always been overly gingerly with you, even when you had asked him to be rough. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you. He adored you too much. 

“Just let me know if something hurts. Okay?” He was coated in so many new bruises that you could easily cause more harm than good. But he just looked so desperate. 

You leaned forward and gently wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You stroked him twice before you leaned your face downward.

You carefully took him in your mouth, sliding him as far back as you could take. You closed your lips around his length. A hand landed on the back of your head. He closed his fingers in your messy locks, easing you down on his cock.

Salty fluid dripped from his tip as you began to bob your head up and down. He needed a release. Badly. His face twitched with every movement. 

Your tongue slid against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips up to sink himself deeper in your mouth. 

But it wasn’t enough. He missed the feeling of you curling around him, desperate for more as your hips ground together.

“Need to fuck you.” He groaned.

Fuck, that sounded perfect. 

You pulled your head back, allowing him to slip from your lips with a soft ‘pop.’

“You have to be careful.” You warned him. He frantically nodded; it didn’t matter what you said; he could have agreed if it meant that he got to be inside of you. 

He began to push himself off of the bed, however you quickly stopped him. 

“I want to ride you.” You told him. He grinned.

“That’s my girl.”

You quickly pushed your dress off of your shoulders and let it fall downward. It slipped down your body, exposing your bare skin below. Once  you were free of the thing, you pushed it into the floor with Daemon’s pants. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He said. His eyes drank you in as you crawled closer to him.

“Lean back.” You ordered. Without hesitation, he laid back, pushing himself against the mattress. He was desperate. A thin sheen of sweat had taken over his skin.

One of your legs slipped over his hips. You were careful as you straddled him, making sure not to brush the stitches that you had just given him. You slipped one of your hands down into the space between you and carefully wrapped your hand around his velveting length. He was still slick from your spit. You guided him between your folds. Then, in one fluid motion, you slid downward, taking in every inch of him all at once.

“Fucking hell.” Daemon groaned. He stretched you out, making your body spasm to accommodate him.

After a moment, you lifted your ass upward, sliding his cock almost completely out of you. Then, you dropped downward again, fucking yourself on him.

You felt the back of his thigh brush your ass as he moved his legs. He wanted to fuck you harder; deeper. However, it also had the unfortunate side effect of pulling on the stitches that adorned his leg. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” You warned him. However, he seemed keen on refusing any kind of self-preservation. He moved his legs again, pulling on your patchwork.

“Daemon, you need to stay still before I tie you to the headboard.”

“Oh?” He took it as more of a welcomed suggestion, rather than a threat.

He lifted his hips off of the bed.

“Stop. You’re going to pull on your stitches.” You ordered. “I won’t move until you stay still.” 

He furrowed his pale brow; he took your commands to be challenges, rather than orders.

“I’m fine with the stitches popping. Quite frankly, they’re annoying so it'll be a relief to see them go.”

“Your lack of concern for your own health is horrifying.” You told him. 

“I’m not going to die from a little blood loss. And if I do, then frankly I was already too weak; no point in living when a little nick can take me out.”

“When you get a chance, please write that down so I can remember to share that with my future suitors when I become a widow.” Daemon grinned to himself before he ground his hips against yours. He curled his arms around your waist. He wanted to get more control. 

You were not going to let that happen.

You rolled your eyes. You quickly grasped each of Daemon’s arms. His skin was hot to the touch. You leaned forward, pinning his arms over his head. All the while, you kept him buried inside of you. 

Daemon was allowing you to hold him there; you knew for a fact that if your prince had wanted to, he could have easily flipped you over and had his way with you.

“Just let me take care of you without you hurting yourself.” You said. 

“I’m not helpless.” The prince scoffed at the notion.

“No, but you are hurt.”

He rolled his eyes before he shot upright, breaking free of your weak hold. He bolted upright and frantically reached out for you. He curled his arm around your waist, pulling your small frame as close to his chest as possible. He lifted you upright slightly; not enough to pull out of you, but enough so that you were no longer perched on top of him.

Then, without warning, he slammed his hips inside of you, hitting so deep that you saw stars.

“Daemon!”

His arm slipped from your waist, dropping you down on his cock once again. Both of his hands moved to your shoulders, where they slowly began to trace downward. 

“What’re you doing?” You asked. But, instead of answering, Daemon leaned in and captured your lips in an all consuming kiss. Unfortunately, the kiss was a mere distraction. 

After all, he was a master of strategy.

While your lips danced over his, tongues tracing one another’s mouths, Daemon curled a single hand around your wrists, pinning them behind your back. Once he knew he had trapped you, he returned his other arm to its previous position on your waist. You pulled your lips away from the wet kiss just in time to feel him lifting you upward once more. 

“Daemon,” You gasped. With that, he fucked himself into you again. He couldn’t help but grin at how your toes curled and the air hitched in your throat. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” You said. Your arms struggled against his iron grip, but he did not let go.

“Now weren’t you the one who started this whole mess?” He taunted. Instead of pulling out this time, he left his cock buried inside of you and gave you the chance to grind against his hips. The friction was beautiful; it was enough to make your head spin as you rocked yourself against him. 

“I thought I was going to hurt myself.” He taunted again. He felt you flutter around him as he slowly pulled his hips backwards, readying himself for another thrust. “What do you want?” He asked.

You looked at him with pleading eyes. 

Your concerns about hurting him had melted away as you drifted closer to the edge. Now, all you wanted was him. You wanted his touch and the pleasure that only he was able to give you.

Daemon leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Come on. I know you can do it.” His voice was low and needy.

Your bodies moved in time with one another; your hips met every thrust, grinding yourself against him before you moved your hips upward again. Every movement was lined with desperation.

Then, the spring that had been twisting inside of you snapped. Pleasure shot through you, making your toes curl and your head fall backward. 

Daemon quickly released your arms. His free hand shot up to the back of your head, pulling you close before you had the chance to move away. He pressed his mouth against yours as your body was flooded with heat. You fluttered around him, overcome with pleasure. Daemon fucked himself into you again. That was all it took for him to tip over the edge. He groaned into your mouth as his cock twitched, filling you with everything that he had to give.

You curled your now-freed arms around his neck, holding him close as his lips danced over yours. 

Your lips remained locked as pleasure overtook your movements, allowing you both to ride out the highs of your orgasms. 

After a moment, your bodies stilled their motions. You pulled your lips free from his. You opened your eyes, searching for something in his face. He offered you a soft grin as he traced a hand up your spine.

The room had gone quiet. The only sounds left in the space were your mixed heartbeats and frantic breathing.

The world seemed so much more peaceful now.

You glanced over your shoulder. His legs were folded slightly, though the stitches that you had given him were still completely intact. He wasn’t bleeding and you hadn’t caused any more damage than he had come home with.

That was good enough for you. Daemon was still curled around you, pawing at your skin as he came down from his high. 

You turned back, meeting his gaze for a moment before he buried his face in your neck. 

You carded your fingers through his snowy locks, trying to catch your breath. His lips ghosted over your throat, pressing soft kisses every so often.

He was so beautiful like this. He seemed so gentle. The only thing that contradicted that idea were the dark bruises that were blossoming across his skin. 

“My sweet prince.” You whispered.

Daemon grinned against your skin at the notion of anyone thinking he was sweet.

[more-lavender-syrup]

A Prince Among Men

Description: You had been wracked with horrible dreams for weeks. After a particularly rough night, Daemon is the only one who knows how to take care of his wife. Word Count: 3,645 Warnings/Notes: oral (f!receiving), Daemon bathes reader, Daemon is kind of a dick (But isn't he always?), reader has prophetic dreams that people ignore Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!WifeReader

The shouting could be heard down the hall. Daemon had rounded the corner just as your voice cracked from desperation. Tears were streaking your face.

No one was listening to you.

No one cared.

They were more focused on filling the large tub in the middle of the bedroom with warm water; you were merely a nuisance  to be ignored.

The maester had insisted that all of this was simply a bout of hysteria; you didn’t need people to buy into your stories, you simply needed a hot bath and some rest.

“Can someone please just-” you were cut off mid-sentence by the handmaids. The women each offered a curtsy before murmuring a soft ‘your Highness’ as Daemon stepped into the small room.

“What’s going on?” Daemon asked.

“The maester-” One girl began to explain. But, Daemon shot her a look that made her turn her eyes toward the stone floors.

“Your Highness, she’s-” another one began, but the words died in her throat before she had the chance to add the finishing ‘being difficult.’

Tears stained your cheeks as you turned to your husband for some kind of help. That was all Daemon needed to see.

“Leave my wife be. I’ll tend to her.”

“But, sir…” One of the girls tried to argue with him.

“Now!” It was an order. With that, the girls quickly filed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them. 

“You’re back early.” You commented. He seemed to disregard what you had said. He was more concerned with the scene he had walked in on.

“You’re scaring your handmaids. You’re also scaring me.”

“I don’t need handmaids. I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself.” You said as you stepped into the water. 

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked. 

You sat down in the hot water, feeling it cover you up to your narrow shoulders.

“When was the last time we shared a bed?” You asked. You had curled up beside him afterward and fallen asleep; that was the last time you hadn’t awoken in a panic.

Three days. Daemon winced.

“I can’t sleep. Anytime I try to, I see horrible things.”

Daemon had always known that you had issues sleeping. He would often awaken to you pacing in the corner of the room or to you huddling around a candle as you tried to read to clear your head. However, those things usually did little to help. Other times, he would come into the room late after a day of busying himself with his important duties, only to find you sitting on the bed waiting for him. On those nights, when he could feel the exhaustion seeping into his bones, he would often strip down and climb into the bed beside you. He would shoot you a grin and then lean back against the wooden headboard, daring you to find some kind of comfort in him just as he had found in you. On those nights, you could carefully straddle one of his pale thighs before lowering yourself down so that your naked folds were against his warm skin. Then, with his encouragement, you could grind against him until your head went fuzzy with pleasure. It was always easier to get you to sleep after that.

“It’s fine, Daemon.” You said. However, that did little to help the deep scowl that painted his features.

“Take off your dress.” He instructed. You grinned, turning your attention toward the bed that rested on the other side of the room. 

“I missed you, too, my Prince.”

Daemon made a low tsk with his tongue. “No, you’re going to take a hot bath and go to sleep. If it’s what the maester recommends, then that is what you shall do.”

“Daemon, I’m not in the mood.”

“Nor am I. Now strip.” He commanded. It reminded you of the time he had made you strip in the great hall at Dragonstone so that he could ravish you on the floor. But, when he had ordered it then, he had also been removing his own clothing.

Now, he seemed more like a man trying to get his pet to obey.

“Only if you get in with me.”

“I’m not in the mood for a bath. Unlike you, I’m exhausted and would like to sleep eventually.”

“Then go crawl into bed. I’ll lay beside you as you sleep.”

“Nice offer. Now do as you’ve been told.” He was challenging you. He tried to keep his features stony and unreadable, though he quickly caved when his violet eyes met yours.

“Be good and you'll earn a reward.”

He had tried commanding; now he was bribing.

“What kind of reward? I need to know whether or not it's worth it.”

He sighed as he stepped forward. Without warning, he ducked downward and crushed his lips against yours. You tried to gasp, but his mouth swallowed the sound before it could escape. His lips moved against yours, gently prying your mouth open. 

Meanwhile, you felt one of his hands drift down the curve of your spine before he groped your ass. His other hand drifted up your back, moving toward your shoulder. Fingers traced your shoulder before they dipped inward, tracing your clavicle. You waited for them to dip further to cup your breasts, but instead, Daemon twisted his fingers inside one of the thin sleeves. 

Material ripped under his fingers as suddenly pulled it downward.

You gasped, giving in to his roaming hands as they pulled your nightgown over your shoulders and then pushed it down so that it could fall into a puddle at your feet. 

You slipped your fingers under the material of his top and began to push the material upward. If you hadn’t been so distracted by your attempt to undress him, you might have noticed Daemon bending slightly so that his arms could curl around the backs of your knees. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifted you bridal-style into his arms.

You felt your feet leave the ground and then he stepped forward with your now-nude body. “Daemon?” 

You had broken the kiss just as he dropped you in the warm tub of water.

You gasped, feeling the water soak every inch of you.

“Fucking hell!” You yelled. Water had splashed all over the floor of the room from the drop. It was something that Daemon would have one of the maids deal with later.

“You’re a real prince among men. You know that, Daemon?” You wiped your face with your hand, trying to swipe away some of the water that had splashed across your cheeks.

“I’ve been called infinitely worse things. You’ve called me much worse before.” He said, his tone flat. He was electing to ignore the complaining at this point.

Now that he had you in the water, he wasted no time. 

Daemon dipped his hands into the water before he carefully dragged his fingers over your skin, wetting the tops of your shoulders that were still exposed. Once he was happy with his work, he reached for a dark gray bar of soap and carefully began to rub the bar under his calloused fingertips, forming a white foam.

A part of you wanted to climb out of the water or just start shouting at your husband. But, you knew that despite how sweet he had been in the past, he was more than capable of dragging you back into the water and holding you there. He had always towered over you and had taken pride in being able to pin your hands above your head while in bed.

The energy faded out of the room; it had slipped out so suddenly that neither of you noticed until it was too late. You leaned your head against the edge of the basin, watching your husband as he gently began to wash you.

“I had a dream about you again.” You said.

“I dream of you every night.” He said it so casually; as if it were a given that you took up every corner of his thoughts.

“Daemon, you don’t understand.” Your dreams weren’t of you two making love or of your wedding day; your dreams were of fire and chaos; blood and death.

“I know.” He whispered. His voice was low and soft; he wasn’t challenging you to a fight. 

You felt a twinge of guilt as you sat there. Other Targaryen men had been married off to elegant ladies who would spend their days embroidering and enjoying one another’s company; Daemon had been shackled to a nut-case.

You had been so lost in your thoughts that you had not noticed Daemon beginning to wet your hair. Once he was satisfied, he had reached for the white bar of soap that rested beside the tub.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said, your voice low. The fire crackled in the corner.

“I’m aware.” He said. His fingers carefully worked the soap through your hair, stopping every so often when he would encounter a tangle. When it was time to rinse, he leaned over and reached for another pitcher of water. 

“Lean your head back for me and close your eyes.” You did as you were told. Then, without a word, Daemon gently poured the pitcher of water over your head, washing out the soap that he had so lovingly covered you with.

Once he was content with his work, he placed the pitcher on the ground beside the tub. You opened your eyes. Just as you did, you caught your husband’s pale gaze.

“Would you like to tell me about what you see in your dreams?” He asked. 

“It’s been the same thing for weeks now. It’s always fire and screaming and you.”

“Me?”

“You get maimed or you die, every single time.”

“You’ve been wrong before.” He offered. He wasn’t trying to challenge you to an argument, or even tell you that you shouldn’t be scared. It was the only thing he could say that he knew could offer some kind of comfort to you. 

You nodded, taking in his words. Daemon let out a low sigh as he leaned his head closer to you. You wanted to say something, but the idea died in your throat before it had the chance to come out.

He pressed his forehead against yours, silencing you. He didn’t need to say anything else. 

“You’re warm.” You whispered. His violet eyes seemed to shine in the dim light. 

He had always been gorgeous; but now, he seemed irresistible. You wanted to touch him.

You leaned in and quickly pressed your lips against his. This kiss was softer; less demanding. Your lips danced over one another, slowly falling into a familiar rhythm. It was one that you had both practiced many times.

His hand dipped into the water. One of his hands quickly found your left nipple. His fingers were calloused from years of handling swords. The friction felt like heaven as his tongue carefully traced your lower lip.

He gently pinched your nipple, pulling it into a hard peak. Once he was satisfied, he closed his palm around your chest, groping you as you deepened the kiss.

You wanted so much more; you could feel that familiar ache between your legs. You missed him; you needed him.

Then, without warning, he broke the kiss.

He carefully pulled his mouth from yours. You grumbled a complaint under your breath.

He rolled his eyes as he grabbed one of the blankets that the handmaids had left beside the basin. Daemon stood upward and then unfolded the blanket. As he worked, you couldn’t help but see the erection that was straining painfully against his pants.

“Stand for me, darling.” He instructed. 

You quickly did as he had asked. You pushed yourself upward, moving so that you were standing in the middle of the basin.

Daemon leaned forward and wrapped your upper half in the blanket. Then, he carefully scooped you up into his arms, lifting you exactly as he had earlier. You curled your arms around his neck as he held you to his chest.

“Was that so hard?” He asked as he pressed a kiss against your wet hair. You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. 

A warm glow coated everything in the room. In this light, he really did look like a dutiful prince.

He carried you through the room, careful not to move too quickly. With each step that he took, he made his way toward the large bed that you two shared.

“I don’t know where the handmaids keep my dresses. They discarded the ones that I moved here with and they don’t let me pick out any of my own clothes.” You said. But, that did not seem to phase him. 

Daemon moved to stand at the very end of the bed. He moved one hand upward and gently pried your arms free from around his neck. Then, without a word, he gently dropped you down on the bed. You gasped at the suddenness of the motion. 

As you landed on the bed, you grabbed for the blanket that he had wrapped around you. It was the only thing that was preserving your modesty at this point. 

“Uh uh. Hand it here.” Daemon commanded. He reached his hand outward and motioned for the blanket. You frowned, but still obeyed. You quickly unwrapped the blanket from around your form and then handed it to your husband. 

Without a word, he dropped it on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Daemon!” You shot upright, reaching for the blanket that he had stolen just to discard. However, before you could reach it, Daemon kicked the blanket underneath the bed.

Your skin was still damp from the bath. The cold night air kissed your flesh, making your nipples pebble. You were freezing and he had stolen one of your only sources of warmth. 

“Lean back.” He commanded.

You obeyed, leaning backward so that your palms pressed against the large bed.

He made a low tsk-ing sound with his tongue.

“All the way, darling.”

You let out a low groan as your back fell flat against the bed. You didn’t know what he was planning, but you did feel like complaining was the right course of action.  

A lantern flickered in the corner of the room, casting long shadows across his face. With his silver hair and sharp features, anyone who didn’t know Daemon could have been convinced that he was an angel. Hell, you knew him and could have been convinced of that. Then again, you had never been on the receiving end of his cruelty or brutality. 

He pushed his knees into the mattress. A warm hand landed against your knee, holding you in place as he crawled closer to you. 

“Daemon.” He hummed in response. But, anything that you could think to say to him died in your throat as he filled the last of the space between your bodies. He moved his body so that he was hovering above your hips.

His hand slipped downward, moving until it was in the middle of your thigh.

One hand firmly grasped your leg, guiding it to the side so that your thighs fell open. Once he was satisfied with the space that he had created, he leaned downward and guided your right thigh over his shoulder.

“Daemon, I-” your voice trailed off as you felt his warmth breath on your bare core. You knew that the handmaids were lingering outside the door. You also knew that, should either of you make a single sound, they would spend the next week hiding their giggles behind their hands whenever they looked at either of you. 

“You seem to be needing my attention. The maester agreed that you need something to help you sleep.”

“Yes and while I truly appreciate you, I don’t think this was exactly what the maester had in mind.”

“Then tell me ‘no.’” He quirked a blond eyebrow. You didn’t dare tell him that. You could feel a familiar want swirling inside of you. If Daemon decided to just leave right now, you might cry. “I’m your husband. I would consider myself entirely useless if I couldn’t help you.”

With that, he leaned his face downward. He spread your folds with his fingers, exposing your clit. Then his warm, wet tongue landed just above your slit. He dragged it upward, taking his time as he felt your leg tremble against his shoulder.

He flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

Fuck!

One of your hands flailed outward. You grabbed the well-worn blanket that lay beneath you. You were sure that you heard several threads pop under your fingers as you clung to the material for balance. 

Daemon grinned at the way that he already had you trembling. 

He pulled one of his hands free from your leg. He moved his hand so that his palm was facing upward. Then, suddenly, two fingers prodded at your entrance.

“Relax for me.” His voice was low; it was clear that he was getting a perverted joy out of this. 

His fingers slipped inside of you, searching for that spongy spot inside of you. Once he found it, he curled his fingers, making you shiver.

Every fear and worry began to fade into the recesses of your mind as he worked. That was exactly what he had been wanting.

He expertly massaged that spot inside of you as his tongue lapped at your clit. 

Fuck, he was good. Too good.

You dug your hand into the blankets, desperate to hang on to something. Daemon immediately reached over and grabbed for your hand.

Daemon pried your fingers off of the bed and quickly moved your hand to the back of his head. Silver tendrils of hair danced around your fingers, daring you to pull them.

That was what Daemon was wanting too.

If you need me, use me. I’m yours to own.

His tongue danced over your clit. You gasped; you wanted more of him.

You pulled his hair, begging for more. You could feel him grin against your core. He was pleased with himself.

He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing that sweet spot again. 

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped, pulling on his hair as he continued to lap at your clit. 

He was relentless and desperate for you to get to finish; he had always been a demanding lover. 

Your back arched again, feeling him pick up the pace as he buried his fingers inside of you.

You could feel that spring inside of you tightened, begging to be broken free. You fluttered around his fingers. Daemon glanced up from your legs. For a moment, his eyes met yours. He knew that look.

Don’t stop; please don’t stop.

Then, without warning, you felt a burning wave of pleasure wash over you. Your legs spasmed and your head fell back against the mattress as you writhed against his unrelenting mouth. All the while, his tongue and fingers never stopped.

You bit down on your lip, fighting the urge to scream. One of Daemon’s hands clenched your hip, holding you down so that you didn’t squirm away from his mouth. Your fingers tugged on his silver hair; it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

 As the pleasure began to subside Daemon slowed to a stop, offering you a moment to catch your breath.

It felt like your bones were made of jelly. You glanced down at your husband. His perfect face was painted with a smug grin.

The exhaustion that you had been fighting back was beginning to eat away at you. It was getting hard to think clearly as a peaceful heaviness coated you.

You watched as he pushed himself up from the end of the bed. He quickly walked around the perimeter, moving until he was standing beside you. 

“You’re so beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?” You asked. 

“No, I don’t believe they have.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

Daemon smirked as he slipped his arms under you. He quickly lifted you upward, moving you up in the bed so that your head was on a pillow. He then reached over and grasped the corner of the blanket that you were laying on. He lifted you off of the quilt and then pulled it to the side, making room for you. After a moment, he lay you back down, pulling the blanket on top of you so that it covered your damp skin. 

Daemon wasted no time climbing in beside you. He laid down on his stomach, turning his face so that his violet eyes met yours. 

Pale scars marked his back. They were the remnants of battles that he had managed to walk away from. But, as you lay there, that familiar dread came creeping back in. 

“I can’t lose you.” You didn’t realize you had said it out loud until you saw his brow furrow. 

“You’re not going to.”  

You can’t promise that. The thought swirled through your mind, but you knew that that could wait. A long silence filled the room. Daemon’s eyes fell closed. He would be asleep soon. But, before he slipped away, his hand crept through the blankets. His hand landed on your chest, directly over your heart.

“Everything will be okay in the morning. You just need to rest.” His words were slurring together from exhaustion. 

You traced your fingers over his hand. A smooth scare covered his thumb; it was evidence that he had been kissed by a sword and managed to keep his fingers intact.

“You’re always so warm.”

“Shhh.” He cooed.

“I love you.” You whispered.

Sleep pulled at the both of you. You knew that neither of you would be awake for much longer. 

“I love you, too.”