sem-ra

corporate girlie by day, lurker by night | 30s | she/her MDNI | 18+

[sem-ra]

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Hi, I'm Sem :)

she/her | 30s | corporate girlie | metalhead | grandma-hobby enjoyer | overthinker | coffee-and-tea-dependent soul

Main obsessions: Baelor and Maekar Targaryen, Bertie Carvel, Sam Spruell

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✦ Masterlist ✦ ao3 ✦ WIP tracker ✦ Fic recs! ✦

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This blog is nsfw and 18+ (MDNI)

[sem-ra]

tagged by dearest @breakspearz, thank you so much 💜

rules; make a poll with 10 of your favorite shows, they can be just 10 shows you loved watching or your top 10 tv shows of all time, then tag 10 people!

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Succession

The Pitt

Crash Landing on You

Guardian: The Lonely and Great God

Downton Abbey

The Last Kingdom

Game of Thrones

Derry Girls

Friends

Remaining time: 2 days 18 hours

tagging whoever would like to do this, because i think i saw a lot of people answer this and i have no clue who to tag 😅

[sem-ra]

ten songs on repeat

tagged by dearest @breakspearz, thank you so much💜 this was a lot of fun!

Below you have the mess that is my music taste haha

Kylmä Maa by Kaunis Kuolematon

The Worst in Me by Bad Omens

Jigolo Har Megiddo by Ghost

Profetens Åpenbaring (2011 remaster) by Gorgoroth

Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

RATATATA by Babymetal

Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

Traust by Heilung

Autumn Forest by Adrian Von Ziegler

Aerials by System Of A Down

tagging (no pressure): @blue-aconite ✦ @sallymaywritings ✦ @orson-pope ✦ @ildico-the-golden ✦ @ghostlybfgf ✦ @idksmtms ✦ @julez-5 whoever wants to do this 💜

[notalicent]

QUICKSILVER — 2.07 | "The Red Sowing"

[ohmylul]

BERTIE CARVEL as BAELOR TARGARYEN A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | S01E02 - Hard Salt Beef

[bluegiragi]

hasty swing.

early access on patreon

From the Wiki of Ice and Fire:

Maekar: Some men will say I meant to kill my brother. The gods know it is a lie, but I will hear the whispers till the day I die. And it was my mace that dealt the fatal blow, I have no doubt. The only other foes he faced in the melee were three Kingsguard, whose vows forbade them to do any more than defend themselves. So it was me. Strange to say, I do not recall the blow that broke his skull. Is that a mercy or a curse? Some of both, I think. Duncan: I could not say, Your Grace. You swung the mace, m'lord, but it was for me Prince Baelor died. So I killed him too, as much as you.

—Maekar and Duncan the Tall

[king-baelor]

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms ⋆ 001. / - Baelor Breakspear ⋆ Maekar I Targaryen ⋆ Lyonel Baratheon

[ildico-the-golden]

baelor brings out the princess in me that wants to be pampered and cuddled

maekar brings out the absolute deranged freak that i am (and i know he’d match the freak)

[sem-ra]

sorry to bother you about this but the link "& he falls back on his promise" on your masterlist links to its pt1 just thought you should know! (+amazing work al of these are so delicious!)

Hi dear anon, you are not bothering me at all! Thank you for bringing that up, it was supposed to link to a reblog where i give a detailed answer.. i guess it did not work as i thought haha i will have to fix it.

Thank you for reading and enjoying the fics 💜💜

[targlocket]

LICK YOU CLEAN

maekar targaryen x wife!reader

cw: filth!!, licking, sniffing, dry humping, nipple play(m!receiving), degradation, praise, body worship(m!receiving), breath play(f!receiving), scent kink!!, coming in pants, face humping, (2.7kw).

n/a: idk what came over me. based on this post!! u can read this as a piece from the my hot husband au/universe or a stand alone!! i just wrote this with their dynamic in mind lol! enjoy! < 3

"mhm, you didn't bathe after the hunt," you mumbled, fingers lifting maekar's tunic upwards impatiently, revealing his stomach, with that soft pudge of fat at the bottom that you loved. the one pinched by his breeches, making the soft flesh hang just a little over the band of his pants. "good. that's how i wanted you."

your husband only grumbled, rough hands trying to stop you from revealing more skin. still, you were determined, swatting every attempt away with a disgruntled sound, making maekar even more annoyed.

"have you no shame at all, woman?" he grouched, face pinched in irritation as you lifted the tunic until it pooled under his armpits, revealing his chest and belly in all its glory. "disrobing me and pawing at my flesh like i'm nothing but a toy to be played with when i'm exhausted from the bloody fucking—"

but you were barely listening to what your husband was saying, and frankly, in that moment, you had no qualms about paying mind to what came out of his mouth. all you cared about was how good he looked in that moment, leaning back against the pillows of your bed, still sweaty and dirty from the royal hunt he attended, looking every inch a man. all muscle and sinew and gods, the smatterings of fine silver hairs all over his chest and belly, and all the way lower on his navel, where a white trail of hair led right beneath the waistband of his breeches, to his cock.

you almost sighed thinking of it. you loved your husband's cock. it was one of the best things about him.

"you're exhausted," you parroted, humming as your soft hands continued to caress his stomach, pressing your fingers in, kneading at the skin like a cat, leisurely and appreciative, eliciting a displeased groan from your husband. "so sit back and indulge me for a few moments, dear husband."

maekar only scowled at you, the furrow between his brows deepening, lip curling in a snarl as he leaned forward, trying to loom, to intimidate in hopes you would cease pestering him. "don't dear husband me, you aggravating woman," he gritted, teeth barred, akin to a dragon before it unlatched its jaws to breathe fire and ash in anger. it made you warm under your chemise. you loved when your husband was all snappy and indignant.

you leaned forward, undeterred by his little intimidation tactic, noses almost brushing as you spoke, your tone soft and persuasive, as if beckoning a wild animal that might bite. "you were gone for so long, and i have been here, all alone, missing you like a limb," you lamented, distracting him from the way your fingers trailed along the waistband of his breeches now, prodding at the pudgy roll of fat there, loving the soft feel of it. "the least you could do is yield to my whims for a while."

aware that it wouldn't be enough to placate your husband, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his scarred cheek, leaving chaste, sweet kisses on the skin as you murmured. "you always look so good after a hunt, husband," you appeased, relentless in your pursuit of what you wanted, especially when it was something as delicious as touching maekar freely without him grumbling in your ear incessantly. "makes me want to devour you whole," your tone was on the precipe of resembling a purr, lips descending towards the strong line of his jaw and down his neck, nuzzling at the sweaty skin in delight.

as always, he tried to persist, even as you felt his skin warm and flush under your lips, making your mouth curl into a satisfied smile. you had him exactly where you wanted him, even if he was still resisting.

"you're being ridiculous," and oh, he was already panting softly, broad chest heaving along with the warm breaths that brushed your temple as you littered his ruddy-skinned throat in wet kisses. "pouncing on me like a cat in heat the second, ah—fuck," he cursed right when your tongue laved at his skin, tasting the remnants of the hunt. the sweat, the grime, the dirt—him, musky and manly and oh so palatable. “stop. i reek of filth and—”

“and i love it,” you moaned against his throat, mouth parting to press open—mouthed kisses to the skin of his throat, tongue licking at every remnant of perspiration, catching it against your palate and savoring it like the finest arbor gold. “you smell s’ good, husband, gods. i want to lick you all over.”

it always got like this. the more disheveled he returned, the more aroused you got. shame had deserted you moons ago, being absurdly vocal about how much you enjoyed when your husband was anything but presentable and pristine.

maekar made an aborted sound at your words, already flushed all the way to the tip of his ears, one rough hand moving to clasp the back of your nape and squeeze in hopes of deterring your assault on his senses, but it seemed in vain. the touch only spurred you, a soft sound resembling a purr rumbling against his throat as you continued to press your tongue to his skin, dipping it to taste the touch of grime gathered in the hollow of his throat.

“filthy,” maekar snarled, fingers squeezing just so at your nape and pulling upwards, eliciting a disgruntled sound from you; a whine. your lips were slick with spit, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide, hazy with heat and adoration, which only made the pressure of his hand increase, reprimanding you for how far gone you already looked. “you’re a filthy, dirty woman, you know that?” he spat, tone brooking on a growl. “always have been,” maekar continued, tightening his hold onto your nape, the pads of his fingers restricting your breath for just a moment, just enough to make you gasp, before he eased it. “getting hot and bothered by your soiled husband like a degenerate,” his thumb brushed against your throat, where he gripped prior, the closest thing to quiet tenderness you could get in that moment, but it made warmth spread through you regardless.

“what of it?” you challenged, dipping your head back to his throat, nosing along the flushed skin, your soft fingers resuming their pawing along his belly, pressing and prodding at the pudgy flesh there, nails scraping along the trail of fine hairs leading below his waistband, making your husband hiss. “it’s your smell i crave, your taste,—” another filthy lick, along the jut of his collarbones, before moving downwards towards his chest, where the smattering of hair was thicker, the smell of sweat and musk more pungent.

maekar tensed as soon as he felt your lips brush against one of his pecs, and you could feel the shiver that ran through him when the tip of your nose nudged a nipple, willing it to harden.

“don’t you fucking dare—”

you did it again, nosing at the pebbling bud once, twice. then, you licked it, slow and wet, circling the nipple with the tip of your tongue, flicking teasingly.

a garbled moan punched out of maekar’s chest, his hold on your nape tightening anew, his other hand fisting the sheets under him, white—knuckled and trembling with restraint. you could tell he wanted to shove you away, to haul you as far as possible from his body so he wouldn’t be able to feel all this, to have to succumb to your whims and depravity. but you also knew he liked it. craved your attention like poison in his veins. hated that he needed it. snarled and snapped his jaws while being half—hard already beneath his breeches, blushing from the tips of his ears to where your mouth was currently busied, lips parting to suckle noisily at his nipple, drawing out another restrained, delicious grunt from your husband.

“look at you,” he managed to bite out through gritted teeth, broad chest heaving under your mouth, voice thinner, breathier. “licking and sucking like a common whore,—”

but you didn’t let him finish, letting your teeth scrape against the bud, nipping at it enough to sting, halting his crude words, making him curse, back arching, pushing his chest more into your awaiting mouth. it was a reprimand, but also a sick, twisted pleasure. seeing your husband bucking and snarling under your lips and tongue was a sight you could never get tired of, much like right now, as you laved one last lick to his wet, swollen nipple, before nosing between his pecs through the fine hairs there, inhaling the scent of him like a woman possessed.

“how would you know what common whores do, mhm, husband?” you murmured, nuzzling along the underside of his pecs, letting your lips press against the skin in damp kisses as you descended towards his stomach, fingers still trailing along the hairs leading towards his navel. “have you been indulging without my knowledge?”

each question was a taunt, like dangling a hunk of meat under a dragon’s nose, waiting for it to bite. and you loved nothing more than to taunt your dragon until he bit, until you could feel his teeth sink in, metaphorically or not.

and he always bit.

“you think i would debase myself with some pleasure house wench?” he snarled, violet eyes glinting with something close to offense, which made you preen quietly, warmth spreading through your chest like drizzled honey.

as you nosed along his stomach, you couldn’t help but breathe him in again, mouth parting in soft pants as your eyes fluttered, the musk of him stronger the closer you got to the V—shape of his hips. “i would hope you wouldn’t, dear husband,” you mouthed along his belly, tongue poking out to lick at the skin, tasting him again. “i would be thoroughly scorned if you so dared,” another lap of your tongue, slow and filthy, this time along the trail of hair near the waistband of his breeches, feeling a slight tickle onto your palate.

but, gods, the scent. the taste of him.

musky and sweaty and man.

it drove you wild, lips pressing to that tempting silver line, open-mouthed and slow, savoring him on your tongue again and again, as if you couldn’t get enough.

a groan slipped unbidden from maekar’s mouth, fingers tightening at your nape, as if remembering he still had a hold on you, blunt nails biting at the skin light enough to make you shiver as he pressed with firmness, as if scruffing a cat. “don’t need some perfumed, wanton wench when i have my hands full with you,” he panted, eyes trained on you, almost unblinking, having watched you the entire time, despite his protests. lavender hues half—lidded, glinting, part anger, part heat, eyeing you like a predator stalking prey.

his words made you purr against his skin, a satisfied sound, your fingers moving to tug slightly at his waistband, revealing more of his navel to you to lick and kiss. “good,” you murmured into his skin, dipping to nose at the cincture of his pants, and lower, nuzzling against his crotch, where you could feel him hard and throbbing already.

“woman, you—” but his protest dissolved into a shuddering moan as you rubbed your cheek against his clothed cock insistently, eyes fluttering, gaze holding his, molten and smoldering with heated affection. the friction was delicious, and it only made more bitten off pleasured sounds fall from his lips, broad chest heaving, splotched red from how hard he was blushing, skin ruddy and flushed. he looked good enough to eat. and maybe later, you intended to do just that.

the scent of him was strongest there, musk so strong it made you dizzy with want, lips parting to mouth at his crotch, feeling his cock throb beneath the cloth, only spurring you on. “smell s’ good,” you mumbled as you continued to map the hard ridge of his arousal with your mouth, tongue laving at the material, wetting it with your spit, making the outline of his cock even more visible. “taste s’ good, husband.”

“gods, fuck—” came from above you, the grip at your nape firming, pressing down, almost smushing your face into his crotch, but you couldn’t be happier to succumb to maekar’s guidance, feeling his hips twitch upwards, rutting weakly against your face.

it made you moan, the action so debauched, so depraved, making you nose along his clothed cock in time with the clumsy grinding of his hips against your face, the scent of him thickening, clogging your senses and coating the back of your throat from how greedily you inhaled.

“c—can’t believe you’re, shit—” he could barely get his words out, too impaired by the way you looked, the blissful look on your face as he humped against it. “can’t believe you’re getting off on this, you wanton woman,” maekar continued, his hips picking up the pace, forcing you slightly more against his clothed cock, grinding against your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your nose; anything he could, the pleasure tingling down his spine way too rapid for his taste. “mouthing at me like a filthy animal, letting me hump—fuck.”

you could tell he was getting close, the thought satisfying you more than you could tell. seeing your husband so unraveled by this alone, hips grinding against your face, hand holding you down for more delicious friction, chasing more but not being able to get it. a delicious torture that was way too exquisite not to witness.

“mhm,” you hummed against his crotch, rubbing your cheek harder against his clothed cock, feeling it throb incessantly, the smell of him more pungent, the precum leaking steadily through his breeches and staining your cheek. “not my fault my husband left me unattended for so long,” you lamented, fluttering your lashes, continuing to rub against him. “i’ve been so lonely,” the words were mouthed against him, breath warm against his crotch, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“always so fuckin’ demanding,” he groaned, long and suffering, humping against your face with more fervor, so close to his peak, face and throat flushed and splotchy, hand firm against your nape as he pushed your face deeper into his crotch. “n—never satisfied, ah, fuck, fuck, wife—,”

wife. the word strained and close to a whine as he lost control, rutting against your plush cheek once, twice, before he came with a pained groan, as if someone clawed the sound from deep in his chest, his spent dirtying his breeches, wetting the fabric against your cheek.

his chest was heaving, mouth parted wide as he tried to catch his breath, his grip still firm, but trembling against your nape, his thumb now brushing along the side of your throat, just like before, as if rewarding you silently, thanking you for letting him use you like this.

it made you smile and you nuzzled into his now damp crotch, the smell of him more powerful than ever, making you moan against the cloth. the sound seemed to bring maekar back from his post coital bliss, his violet eyes blinking down at you, hazy but attentive.

“lick it,” he breathed out, voice strained and heaving still, the fingers at your nape guiding you towards where his cum stained his breeches most, a wet patch visible where the head of his now softening cock was under the cloth. “can’t let good spend go to waste, wife.”

you only hesitated for a heartbeat, mind not wrapping around his words for a moment, before you moaned, mouth parting eagerly, tongue pressing to the damp material and licking, feeling the taste of him invade your palette. “yes, yes,” you sighed, overly pleased, too preoccupied and greedy, lips wrapping around the wet spot and suckling it into your mouth, the essence exploding onto your tongue.

“fucking filthy woman—,” maekar cursed, the sight of his wife, so desperate and eager, making him equal parts flustered and astounded.

you knew the night was going to be a long one when you felt a twitch under your tongue, your husband’s cock throbbing back to life, making your lips curl.

taglist: @alexjacobsgoodnight @kyoozz @mademoisellepetite @verouys @theliqouricebtch @pinkdoeweirdo @winkymar @loveslide @clumsycopy @eowyns-fantasy @yun4st4r @crayonbug @bloomfaery @thewitch-lives @sem-ra @silkaurum @embalmedopossum

[sem-ra]

This was deliciously filthy and I loved it!!

[valaena]

Bertie Carvel as Baelor Breakspear Targaryen in A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

[sem-ra]

Professional Boundaries - Part 3 (ModernAU!Baelor Targaryen x Reader)

Masterlist ✦ Part 1 ✦ Part 2

Summary: Conference mode: on. That includes professional distance, shared glances, and a team that is definitely starting to notice.

But behind closed doors, restraint snaps, jealousy surfaces, and Baelor finally says the words neither of you can take back. Or even want to.

Word count: 10K (it was supposed to be shorter, but I just could not stop!!)

Tags: 18+/MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, Modern AU, power dynamics, age gap(reader is in her late 20s, or early 30, Baelor in his mid-40s), established relationship, explicit smut, unprotected sex (p in v), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), some angst, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, corporate lingo, best friend Lyonel, English is my second language, proof read only once this time, maybe this part can be read as a standalone? 

Please let me know if I've missed anything!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, setting, or story of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. This work is a fanfiction created for enjoyment and non-commercial purposes only.

Author's note: I just wanted to say thank you for all the love you have shown this series! It just makes my heart melt whenever I see the likes and I read your reblogs, tags, etc. For all my stories and ramblings really. I am not sure if there will be another part in this series for now, but I will always be happy to answer your asks and requests about our beloved Baelor. 

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it :)

The report file was still open on your laptop. 

It glowed quietly on top of the kitchen island, displaying rows of numbers, a comment thread left open, ditched halfway through answering. Everything was paused, everything completely abandoned in favour of something far less professional.

Your back pressed against the cool marble as Baelor leaned into you. One of his hands braced on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head, pulling you closer like distance was an inconvenience he refused to tolerate.

You inhaled sharply when his thigh pressed more deliberately between your legs. A soft sound slipped from you, swallowed by his mouth as his hand guided your hips, encouraging the movement. The friction felt delicious against your core.

“This is your fault.” You murmured against his lips, your fingers threading into his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

“My fault?” He asked, his voice low and sounding almost amused. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue chasing yours, like he had nowhere else to be.

This was the real trouble now. Not the work, or the secrecy.

This… The way months did not dull anything between you. If anything, they sharpened it, made everything more instinctive, more consuming.

You taught yourself control. Or at least, something that resembled it.

At the office, it was a series of small, deliberate choices. You trained yourself not to hold his gaze for too long. You kept a careful distance in meetings, choosing seats that made it inconvenient for him to look at you. You address him like everyone else does, never softer or lingering.

But control was not always perfect. There were still times when it… slipped.

A few weeks ago, he stood too close behind you, reviewing something on your screen. He stood close enough that you felt the warmth of him, his breath near your ear as he spoke in that low tone. You did not move and neither did he.

Until Lyonel cleared his throat loudly and deliberately, as he sat down next to your desk. And just like that, Baelor stepped back. Composure restored.

Another time, you were in his office. The door was half-closed, serving as a reminder, as a silent warning to behave. You sat too close, both of you pretending it was necessary. It almost worked.

Until he said your name in that quiet and familiar way, and the air shifted. You were out of that room in under two minutes after that, his office door firmly shut.

Lyonel only grinned when you returned to your desk. 

Though he found your predicament amusing, he still helped you and Baelor keep things hidden. 

He helped in the way he would casually redirect conversations when someone lingered too long near Baelor's office while you were inside. The way he pulled Duncan into completely unrelated discussions at exactly the right moment. It was as though he was part of some unspoken operation, designed entirely around the two of you not getting caught.

His help was subtle, efficient and deeply appreciated.

But here, at home, those rules did not exist. There was no space that needed to be maintained, no one watching, no one interrupting, no Lyonel clearing his throat like a warning bell.

Baelor did not hesitate to reach for you here. And you did not hesitate to meet him.

There was no hesitation when he pulled you closer. You existed in each other's space, constantly and naturally.

Work still lingered in the background. Laptops stayed open, deadlines discussed, reports were half-written.

But the moment he looked at you a certain way, lust clouding his mismatched eyes, that was it. 

You fold for him. 

Because when he said your name here, he never held back. And neither did you.

Which was how you ended up like this, pressed against the kitchen island, moving against his thigh, your breath catching as the pressure built, moaning loudly in his mouth.

“Take what you need dearest.” He murmured, mouth trailing along your neck, his grip tightening at your hip. “Use me…”

“Baelor…” You whimpered. 

You were so close, his thigh damp with your slick. You tilted your head back, giving him more space, and he groaned against your skin, his restraint thinning with every second.

And then, a sharp chime cut through the air.

You both froze, as you recognised the Outlook sound coming from his laptop.

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh, your forehead falling against his shoulder. Baelor sighed, something between annoyance and resignation, before pulling back just enough to glance at the screen.

“Do not…” You begged lightly. “Ignore it.”

“I would…” He said, already reaching for the trackpad. “If it was not marked as high priority.”

“Everything is marked as high priority in your inbox.” You pouted, earning a soft laugh from him.

You leaned back slightly as he shifted enough to read properly, but this time, he did not just adjust. He stepped away entirely. 

The loss of contact was immediate and noticeable. The space between you returned all at once, abrupt and unwelcome. His hand slipped from your hip, and the absence of it lingered far longer than the touch itself.

You watched him as he scanned the email, his expression changing. His posture straightened, his focus sharpening, the version of Baelor Targaryen everyone else saw sliding back into place.

Professional. Composed.

“Is it that bad?” You asked quietly, leaning one hand against the island, trying not to sound as affected as you felt.

“It is not something we can ignore.” He answered, already scrolling.

You stepped closer to glance at the screen. The subject line alone told you enough.

Global Strategy & Leadership Summit - Lannisport

You skimmed the details over his shoulder.

A full day conference, with senior leadership panels, cross-firm collaboration sessions. Competitors, partners, everyone who mattered in your industry, in one place.

And at the bottom of the email you saw the confirmed attendees. 

Baelor Targaryen.

Lyonel Baratheon.

Duncan Tall.

And you.

“I thought our attendance was still under discussion?”

“It was…” Baelor replied. “It is not anymore.”

You let out a quiet breath, leaning back again, your mind already shifting gears.

“This is high visibility.” You murmured. “External stakeholders, rival firms… Everyone will be there.”

You straightened slightly, instinctively smoothing your clothes, grounding yourself in the routine of composure. It felt necessary now, like putting something back into place.

“We will be watched.” You concluded.

“Constantly.”

“There is no room for mistakes.” You said. “We will have to be more careful.” 

Baelor watched you for a moment. “We already are.”

“Oh please!” You snorted. “We try and barely manage it.”

His mouth curves into a small smile, neither agreeing or disagreeing with you.

Silence settled between you.

“There will be more eyes on us.” You whispered.

“I am aware.”

“We cannot slip…” You continued. “Not even a little.”

Baelor held your gaze, steady and unwavering.

“Then we will not.”

Baelor stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He wanted to calm you down, to serve as an anchor.

“We will manage.” He murmured, thumb lightly brushing over your skin.

Your eyes locked to his, as you pressed your cheek against his palm. Neither of you moved.

After a moment, he leaned in. And kissed you again.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The car ride from the airport was uneventful in a way that only your team could manage. 

Duncan sat in the front seat, shoulders slightly hunched, scrolling through his phone with the kind of focus that suggested he was only half-aware of anything else around him. Lyonel, on the other hand, was boisterous. He was talking loudly, joking, pulling you into conversation as you sat in the middle.

Baelor sat on your other side, quiet and composed. He was looking out the window like the city outside was far more interesting than what was happening in the car. 

And yet, his knee brushed yours every now and then. It was just lightly enough to be accidental, and just deliberately enough not to be.

You caught his gaze more than once, always from the corner of your eye. And every time, without fail, Lyonel would say something. He would pull your attention back, redirect you, like he could sense the moment before it tipped into something noticeable.

It was honestly almost impressive.

When you arrived at the hotel, you realised that it was impossible to ignore it. It was all glass, marble and warm, golden lighting that made everything feel expensive.

People were already everywhere. Clusters of early arrivals, conversations flowing despite the conference not officially starting until the next day.

The hall was full of strategists, overachievers, people who liked to be seen.  

Your kind of people.  

You paused just slightly at the entrance, looking around and taking it in.

“God, this is so excessive.” You murmured as you looked at the ceiling.

Duncan, stepping up beside you, let out a low whistle. “Yeah, this is very excessive.”

“They are definitely charging per breath in here.” You added, as you started walking.

“And neither of us can afford it.” Duncan agreed.

Lyonel smiled faintly. “You both sound surprised. Where else did you expect this massive-ass conference to be held?”

“We are not surprised!” You said, chuckling. “We are judging.”

“Ah!” He nodded. “That makes more sense, it is more on brand for you.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to stick out your tongue at him. This was not the place or time.

The four of you approached the front desk, Baelor naturally stepping ahead to speak with the receptionist and handle the check-in.

It was smooth, and within moments, four keycards slid across the marble counter. 

“Your rooms are all set.” The receptionist said with a polite, practised smile.

You reached for yours at the same time Lyonel did. He tried to catch a glimpse at your room number and frowned when he could not. 

“What?” You asked, brow lifting. 

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Tell me he had the sense to book your rooms as far away from us as possible.”

“Lyonel-“ You hissed, heat immediately rising to your cheeks.

“You heard me.” He continued, entirely unfazed, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Before you could respond, Duncan appeared at your side. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothing!” You said immediately.

“Room logistics.” Lyonel said at the exact same time.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. When they did, it was never a good sign. 

He looked at you. Then at Lyonel. Then, briefly, over your shoulder, where Baelor stood a few feet away, speaking to the concierge but very clearly listening.

“Right…” Duncan said slowly. “What room are you in?”

You hesitated just a fraction too long before answering, glancing down at your keycard. “1201.”

Lyonel hummed beside you. “All our rooms are on the twelfth floor then.”

Baelor rejoined you then, slipping back into place like nothing had happened.

“We are all set.” He said, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the group. 

Duncan gave a low chuckle, adjusting his grip on his suitcase. “I am scared to touch anything in this place.”

“You will survive.” Lyonel said gingerly.

Baelor ignored them, continuing smoothly, “We will regroup for dinner. Seven o'clock. Restaurant downstairs.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

There was a brief pause as everyone gathered their things, the moment naturally breaking apart.

But as you turned toward the elevators, you felt it. That brief, almost imperceptible brush of Baelor's hand against yours.

Gone as quickly as it came, like it had never happened at all.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

Dinner was as normal as you could expect. 

You sat across from Duncan and beside Lyonel, who occasionally would nudge your foot under the table every time your attention lingered a second too long on Baelor. You were not going to lie, it was annoyingly effective.

Meanwhile, Duncan was quiet most of the time, not withdrawn, just more observant than usual. You caught him watching you and Baelor more than once, and you wondered if he was trying to piece together the conversation he had walked into earlier.

Baelor gave him nothing to work with. He remained composed, engaged in conversations, entirely professional. He spoke about the next day's schedule with ease, outlining sessions and dividing responsibilities.

“You will cover the morning forums with Lyonel.” He said, glancing at you briefly. It was just long enough to acknowledge you, not long enough to mean anything to anyone else. “There are two panels worth attending. Strategy and operations.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“I will take the leadership track with Duncan.” He continued. “We regroup in the afternoon. Networking should be done after, at the cocktail party, selectively.”

“And that means avoid half the room.” Lyonel concluded.

“Correct.” Baelor said evenly.

“And the other half?” You asked.

He looked at you. “Proceed carefully with them.”

Now, if anyone was watching, they would have seen exactly what one could expect. They would see an efficient team, focused and set on getting the most out of the conference. 

But everytime you spoke, everytime you laughed at something Lyonel said, or responded to Duncan, you felt it. 

That quiet, unwavering awareness. 

Baelor's eyes and consciousness on you. Not obvious of course, never obvious. But constant.

By the time Lyonel suggested another round of drinks, you were already at your limit and decided to excuse yourself..

“I am turning in.” You reasoned, pushing your chair back slightly. “It is going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Duncan gave you a small smile. “That is smart.”

Lyonel stood just enough to pull you into a brief hug, leaning in slightly.

“Please behave.” He said under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “You are insufferable, you know that.”

“And you love me for it.” He responded easily, letting you go.

Baelor did not move, nor did he react.

“Good night.” You said, smiling a little, your gaze flicking to him for just a moment.

“Good night.” He replied, voice even.

Nothing in it, nothing anyone could question.

By the time you got to your room, you told yourself that you were just tired. That it was just exhaustion from travelling and the anticipation of the conference.

And not the tension sitting just beneath your skin, sharp and restless.

Oh, who am I kidding, you thought, kicking off your shoes before falling face-first on the bed with a soft thud. 

A loud sigh escaped your lips.

You had thought you had your feelings under control. That the rules you followed at the office would hold here too. 

But your mind, your heart, knew better. This was not the same. This was not the office, with its careful rules. This was something else entirely.

And that he was too close, too present. 

You felt it everywhere, under your skin, in the way your breath would not settle, in the restless pull drawing you toward him even when he was not there.

You wanted, no, you ached, to touch him. To close whatever space remained between you. To feel his hands on you again. To press your mouth to his and forget, just for a moment, every rule you forced yourself to follow.

You wanted to stay close to him, to be held by him, to exist in that quiet, consuming space where nothing else mattered.

And more than anything, you wanted to hear him say your name. Not the way he had done so all day, controlled and somewhat distant.

But low, familiar, like it belonged to him and only him.

God, you were thankful at least Lyonel was here with you, to serve as a buffer, as a distraction. A much necessary one.

There was a knock on the door, sharp enough to startle you. You pushed yourself up, heart already picking up, feet padding quickly across the floor as you rushed to open the door.

You did not check who it was, because you did not need to. You already knew, you felt it.

You opened the door and saw Baelor standing there. Whatever mask he wore at dinner, it was gone.

“Baelor…” Your voice dropped slightly. “You should not be here.” 

“I know…” He sighed.

But he did not move.

You stepped aside and that was all it took. He entered and the door clicked shut behind him. The air between you shifted instantly, heavy.

“It has been a long day.” He said, as if that explained everything.

“It has.” You agreed softly.

“I needed to see you…” He added, quieter now. “Alone, away from the rest.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words. You too felt the same.

Baelor exhaled softly, like he had been holding it in all evening. His fingers reached up and moved to the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button with practiced ease.

You watched. You could not not watch. Your eyes followed the small movements, the way his throat shifted as he swallowed, the way his shoulders loosened, just slightly.

Your pulse raced, thundering in your ears. Heat pooled low in your stomach

“You are staring, dearest.” He murmured, a small smile on his lips.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You replied.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, gone just as quickly. Then his expression shifted, into something heavier, hungrier. 

And your chest tightened at the sight, a trembling breath escaping you.

He crossed the distance in a few long steps, one hand came up to your cheek, warm and steady. The other slid to your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

You did not resist, you did not think. You met him halfway, your lips finding his with a force that knocked the breath from you both.

The kiss was everything that was held back all evening. It was immediate and consuming. His mouth moved against yours with purpose, his hand tightening at your back as he pulled you closer, like even this was not enough. You gripped his shirt, grounding yourself as his tongue brushed against your lower lip before slipping inside, deepening the kiss.

It stole the air from your lungs.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing harder now.

“You are trouble.” He murmured.

You smiled faintly, breathless. 

“You would not have me any other way.” You whispered against his lips.

A quiet huff of laughter left him, warm and soft and entirely yours.

“No. I would not.” 

His thumb brushed along your cheek, and then he kissed you again. Slower this time, like he was savouring it. Like he had all the time in the world now that he had you like this.

He pushed you slowly towards the bed, his hands removing your clothes piece by piece, leaving you only in your bra and panties. His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative of every part of you, of every curve. He shrugged his shirt off as you reached for his belt, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, unbuckling it and sliding his pants down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and half-hard already. 

Baelor stepped out of his clothes before guiding you toward the bed, his hands unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He tossed it aside and cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch. A moan escaped you.

“Shh…” He whispered, a teasing smile curling at his lips. “The walls are thin here, my dear. We would not want Duncan and Lyonel to hear how desperate we are for one another.”

You bit your lip to stifle a soft moan as he lowered his head, mouth closing over one nipple. He sucked gently, tongue flicking the sensitive peak, as his other hand kneaded the other breast. His free hand slipped into your panties, fingers tracing your slit. A groan escaped him as he found you already wet. He circled your clit slowly, building the ache without rushing, then pushed two fingers inside your pussy, pumping them in lazy strokes. 

"I need you to be quiet now." He breathed, lifting his head to watch your face. "Or I will stop."

The threat made you clench around his fingers, but all you did was nod, pressing your lips in a tight line. Baelor withdrew his hand to strip your panties down your legs, before laying you down and settling between your thighs. His cock nudged your entrance, the head slick with pre-cum as he rubs it along your folds. 

"You are such a good girl for me." He praised you softly, entering you bit by bit. “My beautiful, amazing girl, taking me so well.”

Your walls stretched around his thickness, gripping him tightly as he filled you completely to the hilt. A whimper escaped you, as he started moving with shallow thrusts, pulling out halfway before sliding back in, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. One hand braced beside your head, the other covered your mouth lightly when you moaned too loudly. 

"You must breathe through it." He said, voice a husky whisper, eyes locked on yours. "Feel how deep I am? Every inch just for you." 

He ground against your clit with each forward push, the friction sparking pleasure that builds steadily in your core.

You arched up to meet him, nails digging into his shoulders, but he pinned your hip down, controlling the pace. His thrusts deepened gradually, cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting that sensitive spot inside. Your skin was slick with sweat, the room filling with the wet sounds of him fucking you slowly and intimately. 

"That is it, take it quietly." He whispered, leaning down to nip your earlobe.

The words pushed you closer, your body trembling as your release coiled low in your belly. He sensed it, rubbing your clit with his thumb in firm circles while maintaining those unhurried strokes. 

"Come for me…" He commanded softly, thrusting deeper once, twice, before you shattered around him, walls pulsing. You bit his palm to muffle your cry as waves of release crashed through you.

Baelor groaned quietly, his rhythm faltering as your walls clenched tight around his cock. He buried himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he cummed inside you, coating your depths. He rode it out with gentle rocks of his hips, then collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest. 

"You are perfect, my amazing girl." He whispered, kissing your temple. "Even when you were trying so hard to stay quiet."

You could not help but laugh, content in his arms.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

Stiffling a yawn, you slipped into your seat next to Lyonel, exactly as planned. He was your buffer, your very intentional and necessary buffer.

“Well, well…” Lyonel whispered, as he settled in, glancing at your tablet. “Look at us. Model employees, attentive, taking notes, not causing scandal.”

You shot him an amused look, barely managing another yawn behind your hand.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, studying. “Why do I have the feeling you did not sleep at all last night?”

You crossed your legs, straightening your posture. “The beds were… uncomfortable.”

“The beds… sure.” He hummed, grinning and nodding knowingly. 

Duncan slid into the seat on Lyonel's other side, followed by Baelor. 

Truly, you tried to not immediately look at him, focusing on an imaginary speck of dust on your shirt before you glanced at him. He was already looking at you. He nodded in greeting, composed as ever. But there were faint shadows beneath his eyes.

You noticed them, for you were the reason he had them.

Lyonel noticed too, of course he did. He nudged your knee cheekily.

You ignored him.

You sat through the opening remarks, posture straight, expression composed, in full conference mode. 

So was Baelor.

To anyone watching, you were just part of a high-performing team, focused, engaged, exactly where you were supposed to be. But if anyone was watching you closely, they would notice the way your gaze drifted to each other. Not often, not long, but enough.

By mid morning, you already spoke up twice. Once during a Q&A portion. The second time when someone approached Baelor after a session and you ended up pulled into the discussion.

That was when it started.

“Have you considered transitioning to a more senior leadership role?” A recruiter from another company asked you.

“I am quite happy where I am, thank you.” You smiled politely.

“I find that hard to believe.” The woman smiled, her tone polite but pointed. “I think you are being underutilised.”

You could feel Lyonel's eyes on the back of your head, watching everything like it was live entertainment.

“We could offer you more autonomy.” She continued. “And frankly, far better compensation.”

You let out a polite sigh. “That is flattering but-”

“Think about it.” She interrupted you smoothly, pressing a card into your hand before you could finish. “We would make it worth our while.”

You accepted it. Because not accepting it would say more than you wanted it to.

As she walked away, Lyonel leaned in slightly.

“Well, that's one offer. Let's see how many you collect by the end of the day.”

“It is not a game, Lyonel.” You said, slipping your card into the pocket of the tablet case. “And I am not collecting anything.”

“Hmm… we will see.” He winked.

Later, you were certain Lyonel jinxed you because they would not stop approaching you.

By early afternoon, you were approached three more times by different companies, offering different pitches, but with the same underlying message.

We want you. 

You can do better. 

Come to us. 

And each time you handled it the same way, polite, measured, and noncommittal. Each time, Lyonel watched on with quiet amusement.

“You are going to start a bidding war if you are not careful.” He teased as you walked toward the restaurant for lunch.

“I will do no such thing.” You retorted. “I am not encouraging any of this! I am not giving them any indication that I want to be approached.”

“They know you, and your work.” Lyonel said matter of factly. “They would be idiots not to approach you.”

As you were about to say something, you felt Baelor before you saw him. It was that subtle shift in awareness, the conversations around you blending with background noise.

“There you are.” You heard him say, his voice enveloping you like a warm hug.

You turned towards him, unable to stop the small smile gracing your lips as he approached you with that controlled, composed calm. Duncan walked next to him, his tablet amusingly small in his hands.

“Was it a good session?” Baelor asked, tone neutral, but you knew by now, recognised the edge, the need to pretend.

“It was very productive.” You replied, still smiling.

His gaze dropped from your eyes to your tablet, which you clutched against your chest, and then at the cards peeking from the pocket. His smile dropped a little.

It was quick, anyone else would have missed it.

But you did not.

And neither did Lyonel.

“She has been very popular.” He said almost proudly, nudging your shoulder. “She might leave us for greener pastures if we do not know how to keep her happy.”

He looked pointedly at Baelor.

Duncan chuckled, oblivious. “Can't blame them.”

“Oh, no, no.” You said quickly. “I am not going anywhere.” 

Baelor said nothing. 

But his jaw set, just slightly, and there was something sharper in his gaze now. Controlled, but unmistakable.

You barely stopped yourself from reaching for him, from closing that distance.

From reminding him that they did not matter. Only he mattered.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The rest of the day followed the same pattern.

But now, every time someone stopped you, Baelor was somewhere nearby. He never interrupted, or was close enough to make it obvious that he was looking out for you. He was being professional, exactly like you both had agreed.

And yet, when your eyes met across the room as you were mid-conversation with yet another recruiter, it lingered. Just long enough that something unspoken passed between you.

It was not anger specifically, not exactly. It was something sharper. It was possessive.

You looked away first, pulse quickening.

By the time the closing remarks were given, you were tired, your social battery was gone, completely drained.

“I cannot believe we still have the cocktail party in an hour.” You murmured, heels echoing softly down the hall as you walked to the elevator.

“Come on, it will be fun!” Lyonel smiled, the perfect social butterfly.

You groaned. You would rather be anywhere else.

In your room, away from everyone. Curled into Baelor's arms, his hands on you, his mouth- 

You cut the thought off quickly. 

The elevator doors opened, as you stepped inside, you glanced back down the hall. Baelor stood at the far end, speaking to someone, posture straight, expression composed. Almost as if he did not look at you possessively the whole time.

Lyonel followed your gaze, then smiled to himself.

“Let's see how he behaves…” Lyonel joked.

You did not answer. And your pulse raced.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

You smoothed the fabric of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time, turning slightly in the bathroom mirror to check. The dress was black and elegant, nothing too bold, nothing inappropriate for a work event. But it hugged your body just enough to show off a little.

You were about to put the finishing touches for your makeup when the knock came.

Rushing to open it, you moved as Baelor stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

His gaze found you instantly and stayed. It moved slowly, deliberately, from your shoulders down to your waist, then back up again, as if committing every detail to memory. There was something unmistakably intense in it. Hunger, yes. But layered beneath it, darker, tighter…

Possession. The same look he had earlier in the day.

It made your breath catch.

“I just need a minute.” You said, going back to the bathroom mirror, suddenly hyper-aware of him behind you. “My makeup-”

“You look beautiful, dearest.”

The words were soft, but they carried weight. You met his eyes through the reflection.

He stepped further in, closing the space between you, his chest pressing against your back. 

“So beautiful…” He continued, voice lowering, “That it will make it very difficult for anyone in that room to remember themselves.”

Your hand stilled mid-motion.

“Wait… What is that supposed to mean?” You turned to face him fully now.

Baelor tilted his head slightly, as if considering how honest he should be. 

“It means…” He said, measured. “That you will draw attention. The kind that lingers. And the kind that invites.”

Your brows pulled together. “Invites?”

“Yes.”

Something sharp flickered in your chest.

“Do you… do you think I wanted them to approach me?” You asked, your voice tightening.

His expression did not change much, but something in his jaw set. “You did not seem to do much to deter them.”

The words landed heavier than he probably intended.

“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” You blinked at him. 

“Dear, all I am saying-”

“You know exactly how that would look if I 'deterred' them!” You interrupted him, frustration rising. “At a work event? In front of clients? Colleagues? It would reflect badly on me. On us.”

“I do not care about them-”

“Well, I do!” You snapped, the words sharper than you meant them to be. “Just because you have the power not to care, I care. I have to care. This is my work too, Baelor. I do not get to just… push people away because it makes you uncomfortable…”

“That is not what I am asking of you.” His voice was low, but frustration clouded his eyes.

“Well, it sounds exactly like what you are asking.” 

A brief silence fell between you, thick and charged.

“Do not make me feel bad for other people's actions,” you said, more quietly now, but no less firm. “Do not make me feel bad for doing my job.”

His expression shifted then, the edge in it faltering. “No. No, never, that is not what I meant.”

“Well, it sounded like it.” Your voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying you.

You turned away quickly, blinking hard as your vision blurred. Your hands came up instinctively, fanning beneath your eyes, careful not to ruin what you had just finished.

God. Not now, not before this.

Behind you, Baelor exhaled, slower this time. Regret threaded through it. He said your name softly.

“Please believe me, I did not mean-” His hands came up to your shoulders, gripping them tight.

“I know…” You said quickly, though your voice trembled. “I know you did not mean it like that.”

But it did not change how it felt.

“Can we please go now?” You asked, not quite looking at him. “I do not… I cannot talk about this right now.”

There was a pause, before he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Then, came a quiet: “Of course.”

By the time you arrived at the bar, both of you slipped on practiced composure like second skin. Polished, effortless, untouchable to anyone looking in from the outside. Inside, the lights were warm, the music low, the room already alive with conversation.

“I am going to the bar.” You said simply, not quite looking at him. “And then find Lyonel.” 

You did not wait for a response, you just walked away.

Your body still felt tight, like it had not relaxed from the argument. It was unlike you and Baelor to fight, really fight, but this… this was different. It was not just sharp words, it lingered.

Because you knew he did not mean it. But it still hurt.

The bar became your refuge more than anything else.

You leaned against it, drink in hand, letting the noise of the room wash over you. The conversations, laughter, the soft clink of glasses. It grounded you, dulled the edge of everything still twisting in your chest. It was easier to focus on that than on him.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You sighed. You did not even have to turn to know it was Lyonel.

“Please don't…” You said, your voice softer than you intended, barely holding steady. “I am not in the mood Lyonel.”

He slid into the space beside you anyway. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, tone shifting into something more serious now. “What did he do?”

“It is…” You started, then stopped, shaking your head slightly.

“It is not nothing!” He said, concern in his eyes. “I know you… I can see that you are barely hanging on.”

That did it. You swallowed, then told him quietly about what Baelor said, and the implication behind it. The way it settled under your skin, sharp and unwelcome.

Lyonel's expression darkened slightly as he listened. “He is so fucking insecure…”

“What?” You turned to him, caught off guard.

“Well, yes.” He said plainly, as if it were obvious. “Number one, you are younger than him. Number two, you are amazing, really brilliant at what you do. Do not even try to argue that. You could walk into half the companies in this city and they would fight to have you.”

You frowned slightly, but did not interrupt him.

“I think…” He continued, more measured now. “Baelor got used to the idea that you would always be there. At work, and in your relationship. That he never had to question it.” A small shrug. “And today, this conference and the recruiters shook that.”

You did not say anything, because part of you… understood.

“I am not excusing him!” Lyonel added quickly. “God no! He handled it badly. Very badly. But…” 

He hesitated, choosing his words more carefully now, “I think he is just scared to lose you.”

You let out a slow breath, staring down into your drink. Lyonel's explanation did not fix everything.

But it… shifted something.

“And for what it is worth.” Lyonel glanced  over your shoulder. “He looks like a man who just realised he said something incredibly stupid.”

That made your chest ache more, because you already knew that. Because you saw it in his face before you walked away.

Even now, even standing apart, you and Baelor were not really separated. It was like an invisible thread stretched between you, pulling your awareness back to him no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.

You felt it first, then your eyes glanced behind. And there he was, across the room, already gazing at you. The distance between you suddenly felt too small and too wide at the same time.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, he started making his way towards you.

Lyonel followed your line of sight, then huffed a quiet laugh. 

“Ah, that is my cue!” He grinned, stepping back slightly. 

He gave your arm a brief squeeze as he passed. “Call me if you need me.”

And just like that, he was gone. 

But, you barely registered him leaving, because Baelor was there now.

Close enough that you saw the tension still sitting in his shoulders, the restraint in the way he held himself. Close enough that the rest of the room dimmed around him.

Neither of you spoke immediately.

“I am leaving in fifteen minutes.” You said, your voice softer now, stripped of the earlier sharpness. “I cannot handle being in this room anymore.”

Your eyes met his mismatched, steady, but there was something unguarded in his now, something that asked. Not quite forgiveness, not that. But something close to it, a chance.

You understood that. “Will you come with me?”

Then he nodded. “Of course, dearest.”

A while later, you almost made it out unnoticed. Baelor was speaking to a few people before following you.

Just as you were about to reach the exit, somebody called out to you. 

“Leaving already?”

You turned, a polite smile already in place. One of the recruiters from early in the day stood in front of you. It was obvious that the alcohol had loosened him up. 

You did not appreciate the way he leered at you. 

“Just calling it a night.” You said curtly. 

He stepped closer than necessary, confident and persistent. He seemed the kind of man who was not used to being turned down. He circled you, placing himself between you and the exit. 

An involuntary shiver crossed your spine.

“Shame…” He said, gaze lingering. “I was hoping we would get a chance to talk properly.”

“We talked.” You replied evenly.

“No, not really.” He countered. “Not the way I wanted to. without… interruptions.”

You shifted slightly, creating space. “I definitely am not interested.”

It should have been enough. But it was not. 

“Come on!” He said, smiling and softer now, like that made it better. “Do not be like that.”

“I am not being anything.” You said, the edge creeping in your voice. “I said no.”

He smiled like he did not hear you. Or worse, like he did, and chose to ignore it.

Your patience snapped. “I am going to leave now.”

You moved to step past him. But he did not let you. He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. 

“Move!” You hissed at him. 

“I do not think so.” He smirked. 

As you were about to shove him, you felt another presence behind you. 

“That is enough.” Baelor's voice cut through, cold and final. 

The man looked at him, more than mildly irritated. “We are in the middle of-”

“No.” Baelor said, stepping beside you. “You are not.”

There was no raised tone, no outward aggression. But there was something in the way he stood, close, unyielding, unmistakably between you and the other man, that shifted the entire interaction.

“She said no.” He said with a finality that left no room for argument. 

The man hesitated, glanced between you and Baelor.

Something in Baelor's expression must have settled it.

“Right…” He muttered, stepping back. “Did not realise.”

“You do now.”

And just like that, it was over. The man slithered away, leaving you with Baelor. 

Silence lingered for a moment after he left.

You did not move at first. You just stood there, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, evenly. In the way that if you controlled that, everything else might follow.

Baelor was already watching you. There was something different in his expression now. The sharpness from earlier had dulled, replaced by something tighter. It was a mixture of unease, regret and worry.

His hand lifted slightly, hovering near your arm, like he wanted to touch you but was not sure he was allowed to anymore.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

You nodded, even if it was not entirely true. “I will be.”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “He should not have-”

“I was handling it.” You said gently, cutting him off before he could spiral into it.

“I know.” But he did not sound convinced. His gaze flickered briefly toward where the man had been, then back to you. “But I could not just stand there and watch it unfold.”

There was something raw in that, something instinctive and protective.

Your eyes softened, the earlier hurt easing just a fraction. 

“Thank you…” You whispered, the words quieter than anything you had said all evening.

His expression shifted immediately.

“Of course, dearest. Anything for you.”

Neither of you said much after that.

Not in the elevator. And not in the hallway.

The silence was not empty. It was heavy, filled with everything you did not say yet. He walked beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he did not touch you.

It was as if he was holding himself back, as though he did not trust himself not to reach for you.

The moment the door to your room closed behind you, something snapped.

The distance between you disappeared as you both reached out for one another. 

Baelor's hand came up to your face, warm and steady, his fingers brushing along your cheek like he needed to reassure himself you were really there. He exhaled deeply, like he had been holding his breath all evening.

“I did not like that.” He said quietly. “The way he spoke to you…”

“I know.” You murmured, leaning into his touch, your nose brushing softly against his. “Neither did I.”

“He would not listen.”

“I know.”

His forehead came to rest against yours, grounding. For a moment, neither of you moved. You stood there, just breathing the same air, sharing the same space again without resistance.

“I did not… I do not like the way they look at you.” He admitted.

And there it was again, that edge. That honesty he only allowed himself when the world was not watching.

You smoothed your hands over his chest, feeling the tension still coiled there beneath your palm.

“They can look…” You said softly. “And they can chase…”

Your fingers curled slightly in his shirt.

“I do not care about them. I never did, I never will.” You continued. “I care about you. Only you, Baelor.”

His breath hitched, just slightly.

“I am sorry…” he whispered. “For earlier. God, I should not have said that.”

You did not answer immediately.

“I know what this means to you…” He continued, his voice low and careful. “Your work. Your reputation. I would never want to undermine that.”

You exhaled slowly, your hands still resting against him.

“Then do not…” You said, just as softly. “And do not punish me for how other people act.”

His gaze softened, something heavier settling in it now. It was understanding, yes, but also something deeper. 

“I am not used to…” He started, then stopped.

“Used to what?” You asked quietly.

He looked at you then, fully, without deflection. His mismatched eyes locked on yours.

“I am not used to wanting something this much…” He admitted. “And not being able to control it.”

The honesty in it caught you off guard.

You searched his face, the last sharp edges of your anger fading.

“You do not get to control everything…” You said gently.

His lips curved faintly, though there was no real humor in it. “I am beginning to understand that.”

For a moment, you just looked at each other.

“You will not lose me, Baelor.” You said, the words firm. “You will not, not if I have a say in it.”

Something in him broke after you said that.

“I cannot stop thinking about it.” He said, voice rougher now, looking anywhere else but your eyes. “I do not want to hold you back. I do not want you to resent me one day for… for limiting you.”

His hand tightened slightly where it held your face.

“But the thought of losing you…” He shook his head faintly, like even saying it was too much. “It makes me lose my mind, my senses. A life without you…” 

His voice dropped. “It is not worth living to me.”

“Baelor…” you breathed, startled by the weight of it, by how true it sounded.

His eyes lifted fully to yours. There were no walls, no restraint.

“I love you.” He said.

The words settled between you, heavy and undeniable.

“I love you.” He repeated, softer this time. “And I need you like I need air… like I cannot breathe without you being close to me.”

Your chest tightened, something warm and overwhelming spreading through you.

“I love you too.” You said, the words coming easier than you expected. “God, I love you too, Baelor. I… I do not think I can do this without you either.”

And that was it, whatever restraint he had been clinging to all evening slipped away completely.

His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, like he could not bear even an inch of distance anymore.

And when he kissed you, it  was the first time that it felt… different.

Not because it lacked intensity. If anything, it was deeper and more passionate. But something in it had shifted. The tension that always coiled beneath the surface, the restraint he held onto so tightly… it was gone.

In its place was something slower, softer and certain.

His lips moved against yours with a kind of care that made your chest tighten, like he was not trying to claim or prove anything anymore. He only wanted to feel you. 

One of his hands held you there like you already belonged, as though he did not need to fight for it anymore. 

You felt it in every movement. In the way he kissed you deeper, but did not rush. In the way he lingered, as though memorizing the shape of you all over again. As though this, you, was something he refused to take for granted anymore.

And then he paused, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted to. As though he needed to know you were choosing this too.

Your fingers tightened in his shirt and you leaned into him instead, closing that small distance without hesitation.

A quiet answer. And a promise.

And something in him softened even further at that.

The kiss deepened again, unhurried. His breath warm against yours, his touch deliberate in a way that made everything else fall away.

Baelor's hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed flush against each other. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips.

“You are everything to me…” His voice was low, reverent, sending a shiver down your spine. “So perfect…”

You felt the heat building between you, that tense pull of wanting him so badly it ached. His fingers traced your form, before finding the zipper of your dress. He opened it slowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. But you did not. 

You arched into his touch, and he unzipped you, letting the pool down around your legs, exposing your skin to the cool air.

“God, look at you…” He whispered, eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight. 

His palms cupped your breasts gently, thumbs brushing your nipples over the fabric of your bra, until they hardened under his attention. His hands unclasped your bra with practiced ease and leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking softly while his tongue swirled around it. A moan escaped you, as the sensation shot straight to your core, making your thighs clench.

“Baelor…” You gasped, your hand moving to the back of his head, pulling him closer. He hummed in response, the vibration making you moan. He lavished the same attention on your other breast, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue. 

“So responsive, my beloved girl…” He praised, his breath hot against your damp skin. 

His hands moved lower, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them down. He helped you step out until you stood bare before him. The vulnerability made your heart race, but his gaze held no judgment, only adoration for you. 

Slowly, he pushed you towards the bed, gently helping you lay down. He parted your legs slowly, groaning at the sight of you. You hissed as the cool air kissed you slick folds.

He knelt slowly, pressing kisses along your stomach, down to your hips, then your thighs..

“You are so beautiful here too…” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “Wet and ready… All mine…”

His hands gripped your thighs, parting them slightly as he nuzzled against your mound. He pressed a soft kiss on each thigh before his tongue flicked out. He licked along your folds, slow and deliberate.

The tension coiled tighter inside you, every stroke of his tongue building the pressure. He circled your clit, sucking gently, then harder when you whimpered. 

“That is it, my love…” His voice was muffled against you. “You taste so sweet…”

His fingers joined in, one sliding inside your wetness, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He added a second finger, stretching you tenderly, pumping in rhythm with his tongue. You rocked against his mouth, chasing the pleasure, your breaths coming in short pants. The tenderness in his movements contrasted the passion surging through you, making it all the more intense.

You moaned his name loudly, teetering on the edge of your release, when he pulled back, making you whine loudly at the loss of his tongue and fingers.

“Baelor, why?”

He stood, quickly shedding his own clothes. His cock sprang free, painfully hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. 

“I need to feel you…” He covered your body with his, kissing you deeply as he angled his tip at your entrance. “Tell me you are mine.”

The words coax another moan from you, your walls fluttering around as he slid in. 

“Yours…” You breathe, voice trembling. “All yours, Baelor. Only yours, my love.”

He groaned loudly at that, fully burying himself into you, your walls welcoming him with a tight, wet grip. He paused, forehead resting against yours, letting you adjust to the stretch, to the intimacy of being joined so completely.

He began to move, slow thrusts that built a tender rhythm. Each slide in and out sent waves of pleasure through you, his cock hitting deep. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him closer. You met each of his thrusts, nails digging into his back, the tension winding tighter.

Baelor increased the pace, hips snapping harder. He kissed your collarbone, your breasts, murmuring praises between breaths.

“Feel how well we fit?” He groaned against your neck. “You are mine, and I am yours…”

His mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, tongues tangling, breaths mingling, as he drove into you with loving force. One of his hands slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles. 

“Look at me…” He urged softly. “My love, my beautiful girl, I want to see your eyes when you come undone… ”

The praise washed over you, fueling the fire in your veins. You clung to him, as his pace quickened thrusts turning more insistent.

Pleasure built relentlessly, your walls clenching around his thick length, the slick sounds of him fucking you filling the room. 

“Come with me, love…” He whispered, voice strained with his own approaching release. 

“Let go, I have got you. Such a good, perfect girl for me.” 

His words tipped you over, your orgasm crashing through you in waves, walls pulsing rhythmically as you shatter silently, body arching into his. His name slipped from your lips softly, more breath than sound, and he answered it the same way. 

He followed moments later, burying himself deep with a muffled groan against your neck, spilling inside of you. He thrust into you gently, drawing out every aftershock, until you were both spent, trembling in each other's arms.

“You were exquisite.” He whispered, kissing your cheek, lingering there as if he could not quite pull himself away. “My love, my everything…”

The words settled over you, warm and steady, carrying only truth, only feeling.

He drew you closer against him, your body fitting into his like it always had, like it always would. Wrapped in his embrace, the world seemed to fall away.

No noise, no expectations, no watching eyes.

Just the quiet rhythm of your breathing, slowly syncing together. The lingering warmth of everything you just shared humming between you. He pressed another soft kiss into your hair this time, more instinct than thought, like he needed the contact as much as you did.

And you let yourself sink into it, into him.

In that quiet aftermath, there was no rush to move, no need to speak. Only the soft, unspoken understanding between you.

You were there. He was there.

And in this moment, in this fragile, perfect moment, nothing else in the world existed beyond the two of you.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The next morning carried a different kind of energy.

The lobby, which had been all sharp edges and quiet judgment just the day before, felt looser. Conversations were softer, and laughter came easier. It was as if everyone had collectively agreed to let their guard down now that the conference was over.

You spotted Baelor immediately.

He stood at the front desk, finishing up the check-out, voice calm as he spoke with the receptionist, effortless and controlled.

Until he looked at you.

Your steps slowed just slightly as his gaze found yours, and for a moment everything else faded. There was warmth there in his multicoloured eyes. Something softer, so soft that it did not belong in public spaces like this.

You felt it settle low in your chest, blooming into something warm.

He gave you a small nod in greeting. As if he did not spend the early hours of the morning with you tangled in the sheets, whispering your name like it meant everything, making love to you as if it was the last thing he would ever do.

“You look… well rested.” Lyonel's voice broke through your thoughts as you came to stand beside him. It was too light, too knowing.

You did not even look at him. 

“Please do not start.” You begged him.

He laughed. “I am not starting anything.”

“That is what you always say.” You groaned, your eyes drifting back to Baelor despite yourself.

“You seem happier.” Lyonel hummed. 

“I always am.” 

“No, not like this.” He countered, looking at you fully. “And no, before you argue, I do not think it is just a post-conference glow.”

You turned to him, horrified. “Oh my God!”

He grinned. “What? I am observant.”

“You are insufferable!”

“And yet…” He winked, “Always correct.”

You huffed, setting your bag down atop your suitcase, but your attention was already elsewhere.

Back on Baelor. And as if he felt it, he turned.

The smile he gave you was softer, unguarded in a way that made your stomach flip. And this time, he did not hide it.

Patience, his eyes seemed to say.

And something warm, fluttering and impossible, spread through you.

You were so caught in it, you did not notice Duncan at first. Not the way he slowed, not the way he looked at you. Then at Baelor. Then at Lyonel. And back at you again. You missed the exact moment it clicked.

But you did not miss-

“Holy shit!”

Both you and Lyonel turned toward him, startled. It was then you realised why he said that.

“Duncan-” You started, already too late.

“So it is true?” He asked, staring at you. “You and Baelor?!”

Before you could say anything, Lyonel interjected.

“You know what?” He asked, shrugging lightly, “This might actually be for the best.”

You shot him a look, shocked at the betrayal. “Lyonel-!”

But Duncan was not looking at him, he was still looking at you. “You are serious?!” 

You pressed your hands briefly to your face, mortified. 

“Yes.” You finally admitted.

He let out a short laugh, somewhere between disbelief and vindication. “You and him?”

“Careful now…” Lyonel added, entirely unhelpful. “She is very sensitive about this.”

“I hate you.” You grumbled, still hiding behind your hands.

Duncan ignored you both. “How long has this been going on?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, your gaze went towards Baelor, who was still at the reception desk, with his back to you. He was completely unaware of the conversation that was happening.

“For a while now…” You admitted.

“I knew it.” He whispered. “I knew something was happening between you too.”

At Lyonel's snort, he turned sharply to him. “And you were trying to run reconnaissance.”

“Hey now!” Lyonel laughed. “I was helping my friend.”

“And you knew people were talking?” He gasped at you. “What I was asking about you?”

“I did.” You smiled sheepishly.

“And Baelor…” He nodded his head towards him. “Does he know I suspected something?”

“Yeah…” You nodded. “I might have mentioned it to him…”

Duncan dragged a hand down his face. “Good thing he did not fire me.”

“He is not like that!” You defended Baelor immediately.

Duncan put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

“Incoming.” Lyonel said, grinning wildly while nudging you. 

You turned, seeing Baelor walking towards you now, his gaze on you.”

“This is going to be fun.” Lyonel chuckled.

“For who?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

“For me.”

“Of course.” You muttered.

Baelor stood close to you, close enough that you felt it again, that quiet pull between you. His gaze searched yours instinctively, before shifting to the others.

“Ready to leave?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

There was something different, because this time when your eyes met, you did not look away so quickly. You did not have too. You did not have to pretend.

Baelor noticed, something shifting in his expression, subtle but unmistakable.

But before he said anything, Duncan snorted.

Baelor's gaze snapped to him instantly, sharp and assessing. “Is there something amusing, Duncan?”

Duncan froze and you could see the panic rising in his eyes.

“No…” He stammered. “Just… everything makes sense now.”

“Does it?” Baelor arched his brow.

You reached out, brushing his arm lightly in an attempt to calm him down. 

Before anything could escalate, Lyonel stepped in.

“Alright!” He said brightly, clapping his hands together once. “Now that we all know, and no longer need to pretend, can we please stop with the performance?

“What?” You blinked.

He gestured vaguely between you and Baelor. “The distance you are pretending to hold, the restraint you are pretending to hide. It is exhausting and I am tired.”

“You are tired?” You asked in disbelief.

“Deeply.”

“Lyonel-” Baelor's eyes narrowed.

“Oh do not worry.” He cut in quickly. “Both of you were professional, great performances all around. Truly award worthy.”

You were about to snap back when he smiled softly at you.

“I love you.” He said. “You know that. Ride or die.”

Your irritation faltered.

“And I am happy.” He added. “That you are happy. That you found something real.”

The warmth in his voice caught you off guard.

“But I am also thrilled…” He continued, his grin returning, “That I no longer have to pretend I do not see it.”

Heat rose instantly to your cheeks.

“Come on, Dunk!” He said, grabbing Duncan's arm. “Let us see if the taxi arrived, before they start being sentimental.”

And just like that, you and Baelor were left alone. His hand found yours without hesitation this time. Not hiding, no careful distance now.

His fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently.

“It was bound to happen.” He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I know.” Sighing, you admitted.

You looked at him then, really looked at him. And whatever had been carefully contained before… was not anymore.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and absentminded, but grounding, familiar.

Yours.

“I meant what I said last night.” He added quietly.

Your breath caught. “So did I.”

Something softened in his gaze at that. This was no longer the controlled version of him, not the one the world saw.

This was your Baelor.

He stepped closer, just enough, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He said it again.

And this time, you smiled widely.

“I love you too.”

Taglist: @ladygrimmx, @gespirida, @wallachianvampire, @somniari-94, @aysamuka, @outpostsworld, @lovergirlygirl, @omgwhataloser, @theqvynrand, @luvweezer, @gezello, @raashluvsff, @1-lu-1, @hamlet111, @fizzie-bubbles, @gotham-lady, @kishie8, @nancystrange, @emneedshelp, @tomie9kawakami, @travelingmypassion, @crazyfangirln1, @miramindlesslywriting, @kellyyn02, @sleepysunriser, @jakecockley, @fiwnsikw, @agirlwithmanyloves, @doctortrek, @anathemius, @optimistictacosaladcloud, @flyinglama, @therighteousmanisdead, @angelofpearls, @mahumf9, @thecryptidabyss, @viiistrength, @llucyfer, @eddie-munsons-mommy, @stevengrantsqueen, @kvroshit, @hcafx101, @klntt, @thateldritchairin, @belladonnadarksshade, @seoknaei, @alecriminn, @starfallenlady, @highexpectationsgurl

[ildico-the-golden]

OMG Sem! You have such a gift with words 🧡

This was so nice it made me emotional at the end!!! Thank you for this monument!

[sem-ra]

Dov, you are killing me with your kind words, thank you so so much 💜💜

[sem-ra]

Professional Boundaries - Part 3 (ModernAU!Baelor Targaryen x Reader)

Masterlist ✦ Part 1 ✦ Part 2

Summary: Conference mode: on. That includes professional distance, shared glances, and a team that is definitely starting to notice.

But behind closed doors, restraint snaps, jealousy surfaces, and Baelor finally says the words neither of you can take back. Or even want to.

Word count: 10K (it was supposed to be shorter, but I just could not stop!!)

Tags: 18+/MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, Modern AU, power dynamics, age gap(reader is in her late 20s, or early 30, Baelor in his mid-40s), established relationship, explicit smut, unprotected sex (p in v), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), some angst, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, corporate lingo, best friend Lyonel, English is my second language, proof read only once this time, maybe this part can be read as a standalone? 

Please let me know if I've missed anything!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, setting, or story of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. This work is a fanfiction created for enjoyment and non-commercial purposes only.

Author's note: I just wanted to say thank you for all the love you have shown this series! It just makes my heart melt whenever I see the likes and I read your reblogs, tags, etc. For all my stories and ramblings really. I am not sure if there will be another part in this series for now, but I will always be happy to answer your asks and requests about our beloved Baelor. 

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it :)

The report file was still open on your laptop. 

It glowed quietly on top of the kitchen island, displaying rows of numbers, a comment thread left open, ditched halfway through answering. Everything was paused, everything completely abandoned in favour of something far less professional.

Your back pressed against the cool marble as Baelor leaned into you. One of his hands braced on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head, pulling you closer like distance was an inconvenience he refused to tolerate.

You inhaled sharply when his thigh pressed more deliberately between your legs. A soft sound slipped from you, swallowed by his mouth as his hand guided your hips, encouraging the movement. The friction felt delicious against your core.

“This is your fault.” You murmured against his lips, your fingers threading into his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

“My fault?” He asked, his voice low and sounding almost amused. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue chasing yours, like he had nowhere else to be.

This was the real trouble now. Not the work, or the secrecy.

This… The way months did not dull anything between you. If anything, they sharpened it, made everything more instinctive, more consuming.

You taught yourself control. Or at least, something that resembled it.

At the office, it was a series of small, deliberate choices. You trained yourself not to hold his gaze for too long. You kept a careful distance in meetings, choosing seats that made it inconvenient for him to look at you. You address him like everyone else does, never softer or lingering.

But control was not always perfect. There were still times when it… slipped.

A few weeks ago, he stood too close behind you, reviewing something on your screen. He stood close enough that you felt the warmth of him, his breath near your ear as he spoke in that low tone. You did not move and neither did he.

Until Lyonel cleared his throat loudly and deliberately, as he sat down next to your desk. And just like that, Baelor stepped back. Composure restored.

Another time, you were in his office. The door was half-closed, serving as a reminder, as a silent warning to behave. You sat too close, both of you pretending it was necessary. It almost worked.

Until he said your name in that quiet and familiar way, and the air shifted. You were out of that room in under two minutes after that, his office door firmly shut.

Lyonel only grinned when you returned to your desk. 

Though he found your predicament amusing, he still helped you and Baelor keep things hidden. 

He helped in the way he would casually redirect conversations when someone lingered too long near Baelor's office while you were inside. The way he pulled Duncan into completely unrelated discussions at exactly the right moment. It was as though he was part of some unspoken operation, designed entirely around the two of you not getting caught.

His help was subtle, efficient and deeply appreciated.

But here, at home, those rules did not exist. There was no space that needed to be maintained, no one watching, no one interrupting, no Lyonel clearing his throat like a warning bell.

Baelor did not hesitate to reach for you here. And you did not hesitate to meet him.

There was no hesitation when he pulled you closer. You existed in each other's space, constantly and naturally.

Work still lingered in the background. Laptops stayed open, deadlines discussed, reports were half-written.

But the moment he looked at you a certain way, lust clouding his mismatched eyes, that was it. 

You fold for him. 

Because when he said your name here, he never held back. And neither did you.

Which was how you ended up like this, pressed against the kitchen island, moving against his thigh, your breath catching as the pressure built, moaning loudly in his mouth.

“Take what you need dearest.” He murmured, mouth trailing along your neck, his grip tightening at your hip. “Use me…”

“Baelor…” You whimpered. 

You were so close, his thigh damp with your slick. You tilted your head back, giving him more space, and he groaned against your skin, his restraint thinning with every second.

And then, a sharp chime cut through the air.

You both froze, as you recognised the Outlook sound coming from his laptop.

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh, your forehead falling against his shoulder. Baelor sighed, something between annoyance and resignation, before pulling back just enough to glance at the screen.

“Do not…” You begged lightly. “Ignore it.”

“I would…” He said, already reaching for the trackpad. “If it was not marked as high priority.”

“Everything is marked as high priority in your inbox.” You pouted, earning a soft laugh from him.

You leaned back slightly as he shifted enough to read properly, but this time, he did not just adjust. He stepped away entirely. 

The loss of contact was immediate and noticeable. The space between you returned all at once, abrupt and unwelcome. His hand slipped from your hip, and the absence of it lingered far longer than the touch itself.

You watched him as he scanned the email, his expression changing. His posture straightened, his focus sharpening, the version of Baelor Targaryen everyone else saw sliding back into place.

Professional. Composed.

“Is it that bad?” You asked quietly, leaning one hand against the island, trying not to sound as affected as you felt.

“It is not something we can ignore.” He answered, already scrolling.

You stepped closer to glance at the screen. The subject line alone told you enough.

Global Strategy & Leadership Summit - Lannisport

You skimmed the details over his shoulder.

A full day conference, with senior leadership panels, cross-firm collaboration sessions. Competitors, partners, everyone who mattered in your industry, in one place.

And at the bottom of the email you saw the confirmed attendees. 

Baelor Targaryen.

Lyonel Baratheon.

Duncan Tall.

And you.

“I thought our attendance was still under discussion?”

“It was…” Baelor replied. “It is not anymore.”

You let out a quiet breath, leaning back again, your mind already shifting gears.

“This is high visibility.” You murmured. “External stakeholders, rival firms… Everyone will be there.”

You straightened slightly, instinctively smoothing your clothes, grounding yourself in the routine of composure. It felt necessary now, like putting something back into place.

“We will be watched.” You concluded.

“Constantly.”

“There is no room for mistakes.” You said. “We will have to be more careful.” 

Baelor watched you for a moment. “We already are.”

“Oh please!” You snorted. “We try and barely manage it.”

His mouth curves into a small smile, neither agreeing or disagreeing with you.

Silence settled between you.

“There will be more eyes on us.” You whispered.

“I am aware.”

“We cannot slip…” You continued. “Not even a little.”

Baelor held your gaze, steady and unwavering.

“Then we will not.”

Baelor stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He wanted to calm you down, to serve as an anchor.

“We will manage.” He murmured, thumb lightly brushing over your skin.

Your eyes locked to his, as you pressed your cheek against his palm. Neither of you moved.

After a moment, he leaned in. And kissed you again.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The car ride from the airport was uneventful in a way that only your team could manage. 

Duncan sat in the front seat, shoulders slightly hunched, scrolling through his phone with the kind of focus that suggested he was only half-aware of anything else around him. Lyonel, on the other hand, was boisterous. He was talking loudly, joking, pulling you into conversation as you sat in the middle.

Baelor sat on your other side, quiet and composed. He was looking out the window like the city outside was far more interesting than what was happening in the car. 

And yet, his knee brushed yours every now and then. It was just lightly enough to be accidental, and just deliberately enough not to be.

You caught his gaze more than once, always from the corner of your eye. And every time, without fail, Lyonel would say something. He would pull your attention back, redirect you, like he could sense the moment before it tipped into something noticeable.

It was honestly almost impressive.

When you arrived at the hotel, you realised that it was impossible to ignore it. It was all glass, marble and warm, golden lighting that made everything feel expensive.

People were already everywhere. Clusters of early arrivals, conversations flowing despite the conference not officially starting until the next day.

The hall was full of strategists, overachievers, people who liked to be seen.  

Your kind of people.  

You paused just slightly at the entrance, looking around and taking it in.

“God, this is so excessive.” You murmured as you looked at the ceiling.

Duncan, stepping up beside you, let out a low whistle. “Yeah, this is very excessive.”

“They are definitely charging per breath in here.” You added, as you started walking.

“And neither of us can afford it.” Duncan agreed.

Lyonel smiled faintly. “You both sound surprised. Where else did you expect this massive-ass conference to be held?”

“We are not surprised!” You said, chuckling. “We are judging.”

“Ah!” He nodded. “That makes more sense, it is more on brand for you.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to stick out your tongue at him. This was not the place or time.

The four of you approached the front desk, Baelor naturally stepping ahead to speak with the receptionist and handle the check-in.

It was smooth, and within moments, four keycards slid across the marble counter. 

“Your rooms are all set.” The receptionist said with a polite, practised smile.

You reached for yours at the same time Lyonel did. He tried to catch a glimpse at your room number and frowned when he could not. 

“What?” You asked, brow lifting. 

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Tell me he had the sense to book your rooms as far away from us as possible.”

“Lyonel-“ You hissed, heat immediately rising to your cheeks.

“You heard me.” He continued, entirely unfazed, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Before you could respond, Duncan appeared at your side. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothing!” You said immediately.

“Room logistics.” Lyonel said at the exact same time.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. When they did, it was never a good sign. 

He looked at you. Then at Lyonel. Then, briefly, over your shoulder, where Baelor stood a few feet away, speaking to the concierge but very clearly listening.

“Right…” Duncan said slowly. “What room are you in?”

You hesitated just a fraction too long before answering, glancing down at your keycard. “1201.”

Lyonel hummed beside you. “All our rooms are on the twelfth floor then.”

Baelor rejoined you then, slipping back into place like nothing had happened.

“We are all set.” He said, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the group. 

Duncan gave a low chuckle, adjusting his grip on his suitcase. “I am scared to touch anything in this place.”

“You will survive.” Lyonel said gingerly.

Baelor ignored them, continuing smoothly, “We will regroup for dinner. Seven o'clock. Restaurant downstairs.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

There was a brief pause as everyone gathered their things, the moment naturally breaking apart.

But as you turned toward the elevators, you felt it. That brief, almost imperceptible brush of Baelor's hand against yours.

Gone as quickly as it came, like it had never happened at all.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

Dinner was as normal as you could expect. 

You sat across from Duncan and beside Lyonel, who occasionally would nudge your foot under the table every time your attention lingered a second too long on Baelor. You were not going to lie, it was annoyingly effective.

Meanwhile, Duncan was quiet most of the time, not withdrawn, just more observant than usual. You caught him watching you and Baelor more than once, and you wondered if he was trying to piece together the conversation he had walked into earlier.

Baelor gave him nothing to work with. He remained composed, engaged in conversations, entirely professional. He spoke about the next day's schedule with ease, outlining sessions and dividing responsibilities.

“You will cover the morning forums with Lyonel.” He said, glancing at you briefly. It was just long enough to acknowledge you, not long enough to mean anything to anyone else. “There are two panels worth attending. Strategy and operations.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“I will take the leadership track with Duncan.” He continued. “We regroup in the afternoon. Networking should be done after, at the cocktail party, selectively.”

“And that means avoid half the room.” Lyonel concluded.

“Correct.” Baelor said evenly.

“And the other half?” You asked.

He looked at you. “Proceed carefully with them.”

Now, if anyone was watching, they would have seen exactly what one could expect. They would see an efficient team, focused and set on getting the most out of the conference. 

But everytime you spoke, everytime you laughed at something Lyonel said, or responded to Duncan, you felt it. 

That quiet, unwavering awareness. 

Baelor's eyes and consciousness on you. Not obvious of course, never obvious. But constant.

By the time Lyonel suggested another round of drinks, you were already at your limit and decided to excuse yourself..

“I am turning in.” You reasoned, pushing your chair back slightly. “It is going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Duncan gave you a small smile. “That is smart.”

Lyonel stood just enough to pull you into a brief hug, leaning in slightly.

“Please behave.” He said under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “You are insufferable, you know that.”

“And you love me for it.” He responded easily, letting you go.

Baelor did not move, nor did he react.

“Good night.” You said, smiling a little, your gaze flicking to him for just a moment.

“Good night.” He replied, voice even.

Nothing in it, nothing anyone could question.

By the time you got to your room, you told yourself that you were just tired. That it was just exhaustion from travelling and the anticipation of the conference.

And not the tension sitting just beneath your skin, sharp and restless.

Oh, who am I kidding, you thought, kicking off your shoes before falling face-first on the bed with a soft thud. 

A loud sigh escaped your lips.

You had thought you had your feelings under control. That the rules you followed at the office would hold here too. 

But your mind, your heart, knew better. This was not the same. This was not the office, with its careful rules. This was something else entirely.

And that he was too close, too present. 

You felt it everywhere, under your skin, in the way your breath would not settle, in the restless pull drawing you toward him even when he was not there.

You wanted, no, you ached, to touch him. To close whatever space remained between you. To feel his hands on you again. To press your mouth to his and forget, just for a moment, every rule you forced yourself to follow.

You wanted to stay close to him, to be held by him, to exist in that quiet, consuming space where nothing else mattered.

And more than anything, you wanted to hear him say your name. Not the way he had done so all day, controlled and somewhat distant.

But low, familiar, like it belonged to him and only him.

God, you were thankful at least Lyonel was here with you, to serve as a buffer, as a distraction. A much necessary one.

There was a knock on the door, sharp enough to startle you. You pushed yourself up, heart already picking up, feet padding quickly across the floor as you rushed to open the door.

You did not check who it was, because you did not need to. You already knew, you felt it.

You opened the door and saw Baelor standing there. Whatever mask he wore at dinner, it was gone.

“Baelor…” Your voice dropped slightly. “You should not be here.” 

“I know…” He sighed.

But he did not move.

You stepped aside and that was all it took. He entered and the door clicked shut behind him. The air between you shifted instantly, heavy.

“It has been a long day.” He said, as if that explained everything.

“It has.” You agreed softly.

“I needed to see you…” He added, quieter now. “Alone, away from the rest.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words. You too felt the same.

Baelor exhaled softly, like he had been holding it in all evening. His fingers reached up and moved to the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button with practiced ease.

You watched. You could not not watch. Your eyes followed the small movements, the way his throat shifted as he swallowed, the way his shoulders loosened, just slightly.

Your pulse raced, thundering in your ears. Heat pooled low in your stomach

“You are staring, dearest.” He murmured, a small smile on his lips.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You replied.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, gone just as quickly. Then his expression shifted, into something heavier, hungrier. 

And your chest tightened at the sight, a trembling breath escaping you.

He crossed the distance in a few long steps, one hand came up to your cheek, warm and steady. The other slid to your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

You did not resist, you did not think. You met him halfway, your lips finding his with a force that knocked the breath from you both.

The kiss was everything that was held back all evening. It was immediate and consuming. His mouth moved against yours with purpose, his hand tightening at your back as he pulled you closer, like even this was not enough. You gripped his shirt, grounding yourself as his tongue brushed against your lower lip before slipping inside, deepening the kiss.

It stole the air from your lungs.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing harder now.

“You are trouble.” He murmured.

You smiled faintly, breathless. 

“You would not have me any other way.” You whispered against his lips.

A quiet huff of laughter left him, warm and soft and entirely yours.

“No. I would not.” 

His thumb brushed along your cheek, and then he kissed you again. Slower this time, like he was savouring it. Like he had all the time in the world now that he had you like this.

He pushed you slowly towards the bed, his hands removing your clothes piece by piece, leaving you only in your bra and panties. His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative of every part of you, of every curve. He shrugged his shirt off as you reached for his belt, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, unbuckling it and sliding his pants down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and half-hard already. 

Baelor stepped out of his clothes before guiding you toward the bed, his hands unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He tossed it aside and cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch. A moan escaped you.

“Shh…” He whispered, a teasing smile curling at his lips. “The walls are thin here, my dear. We would not want Duncan and Lyonel to hear how desperate we are for one another.”

You bit your lip to stifle a soft moan as he lowered his head, mouth closing over one nipple. He sucked gently, tongue flicking the sensitive peak, as his other hand kneaded the other breast. His free hand slipped into your panties, fingers tracing your slit. A groan escaped him as he found you already wet. He circled your clit slowly, building the ache without rushing, then pushed two fingers inside your pussy, pumping them in lazy strokes. 

"I need you to be quiet now." He breathed, lifting his head to watch your face. "Or I will stop."

The threat made you clench around his fingers, but all you did was nod, pressing your lips in a tight line. Baelor withdrew his hand to strip your panties down your legs, before laying you down and settling between your thighs. His cock nudged your entrance, the head slick with pre-cum as he rubs it along your folds. 

"You are such a good girl for me." He praised you softly, entering you bit by bit. “My beautiful, amazing girl, taking me so well.”

Your walls stretched around his thickness, gripping him tightly as he filled you completely to the hilt. A whimper escaped you, as he started moving with shallow thrusts, pulling out halfway before sliding back in, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. One hand braced beside your head, the other covered your mouth lightly when you moaned too loudly. 

"You must breathe through it." He said, voice a husky whisper, eyes locked on yours. "Feel how deep I am? Every inch just for you." 

He ground against your clit with each forward push, the friction sparking pleasure that builds steadily in your core.

You arched up to meet him, nails digging into his shoulders, but he pinned your hip down, controlling the pace. His thrusts deepened gradually, cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting that sensitive spot inside. Your skin was slick with sweat, the room filling with the wet sounds of him fucking you slowly and intimately. 

"That is it, take it quietly." He whispered, leaning down to nip your earlobe.

The words pushed you closer, your body trembling as your release coiled low in your belly. He sensed it, rubbing your clit with his thumb in firm circles while maintaining those unhurried strokes. 

"Come for me…" He commanded softly, thrusting deeper once, twice, before you shattered around him, walls pulsing. You bit his palm to muffle your cry as waves of release crashed through you.

Baelor groaned quietly, his rhythm faltering as your walls clenched tight around his cock. He buried himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he cummed inside you, coating your depths. He rode it out with gentle rocks of his hips, then collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest. 

"You are perfect, my amazing girl." He whispered, kissing your temple. "Even when you were trying so hard to stay quiet."

You could not help but laugh, content in his arms.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

Stiffling a yawn, you slipped into your seat next to Lyonel, exactly as planned. He was your buffer, your very intentional and necessary buffer.

“Well, well…” Lyonel whispered, as he settled in, glancing at your tablet. “Look at us. Model employees, attentive, taking notes, not causing scandal.”

You shot him an amused look, barely managing another yawn behind your hand.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, studying. “Why do I have the feeling you did not sleep at all last night?”

You crossed your legs, straightening your posture. “The beds were… uncomfortable.”

“The beds… sure.” He hummed, grinning and nodding knowingly. 

Duncan slid into the seat on Lyonel's other side, followed by Baelor. 

Truly, you tried to not immediately look at him, focusing on an imaginary speck of dust on your shirt before you glanced at him. He was already looking at you. He nodded in greeting, composed as ever. But there were faint shadows beneath his eyes.

You noticed them, for you were the reason he had them.

Lyonel noticed too, of course he did. He nudged your knee cheekily.

You ignored him.

You sat through the opening remarks, posture straight, expression composed, in full conference mode. 

So was Baelor.

To anyone watching, you were just part of a high-performing team, focused, engaged, exactly where you were supposed to be. But if anyone was watching you closely, they would notice the way your gaze drifted to each other. Not often, not long, but enough.

By mid morning, you already spoke up twice. Once during a Q&A portion. The second time when someone approached Baelor after a session and you ended up pulled into the discussion.

That was when it started.

“Have you considered transitioning to a more senior leadership role?” A recruiter from another company asked you.

“I am quite happy where I am, thank you.” You smiled politely.

“I find that hard to believe.” The woman smiled, her tone polite but pointed. “I think you are being underutilised.”

You could feel Lyonel's eyes on the back of your head, watching everything like it was live entertainment.

“We could offer you more autonomy.” She continued. “And frankly, far better compensation.”

You let out a polite sigh. “That is flattering but-”

“Think about it.” She interrupted you smoothly, pressing a card into your hand before you could finish. “We would make it worth our while.”

You accepted it. Because not accepting it would say more than you wanted it to.

As she walked away, Lyonel leaned in slightly.

“Well, that's one offer. Let's see how many you collect by the end of the day.”

“It is not a game, Lyonel.” You said, slipping your card into the pocket of the tablet case. “And I am not collecting anything.”

“Hmm… we will see.” He winked.

Later, you were certain Lyonel jinxed you because they would not stop approaching you.

By early afternoon, you were approached three more times by different companies, offering different pitches, but with the same underlying message.

We want you. 

You can do better. 

Come to us. 

And each time you handled it the same way, polite, measured, and noncommittal. Each time, Lyonel watched on with quiet amusement.

“You are going to start a bidding war if you are not careful.” He teased as you walked toward the restaurant for lunch.

“I will do no such thing.” You retorted. “I am not encouraging any of this! I am not giving them any indication that I want to be approached.”

“They know you, and your work.” Lyonel said matter of factly. “They would be idiots not to approach you.”

As you were about to say something, you felt Baelor before you saw him. It was that subtle shift in awareness, the conversations around you blending with background noise.

“There you are.” You heard him say, his voice enveloping you like a warm hug.

You turned towards him, unable to stop the small smile gracing your lips as he approached you with that controlled, composed calm. Duncan walked next to him, his tablet amusingly small in his hands.

“Was it a good session?” Baelor asked, tone neutral, but you knew by now, recognised the edge, the need to pretend.

“It was very productive.” You replied, still smiling.

His gaze dropped from your eyes to your tablet, which you clutched against your chest, and then at the cards peeking from the pocket. His smile dropped a little.

It was quick, anyone else would have missed it.

But you did not.

And neither did Lyonel.

“She has been very popular.” He said almost proudly, nudging your shoulder. “She might leave us for greener pastures if we do not know how to keep her happy.”

He looked pointedly at Baelor.

Duncan chuckled, oblivious. “Can't blame them.”

“Oh, no, no.” You said quickly. “I am not going anywhere.” 

Baelor said nothing. 

But his jaw set, just slightly, and there was something sharper in his gaze now. Controlled, but unmistakable.

You barely stopped yourself from reaching for him, from closing that distance.

From reminding him that they did not matter. Only he mattered.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The rest of the day followed the same pattern.

But now, every time someone stopped you, Baelor was somewhere nearby. He never interrupted, or was close enough to make it obvious that he was looking out for you. He was being professional, exactly like you both had agreed.

And yet, when your eyes met across the room as you were mid-conversation with yet another recruiter, it lingered. Just long enough that something unspoken passed between you.

It was not anger specifically, not exactly. It was something sharper. It was possessive.

You looked away first, pulse quickening.

By the time the closing remarks were given, you were tired, your social battery was gone, completely drained.

“I cannot believe we still have the cocktail party in an hour.” You murmured, heels echoing softly down the hall as you walked to the elevator.

“Come on, it will be fun!” Lyonel smiled, the perfect social butterfly.

You groaned. You would rather be anywhere else.

In your room, away from everyone. Curled into Baelor's arms, his hands on you, his mouth- 

You cut the thought off quickly. 

The elevator doors opened, as you stepped inside, you glanced back down the hall. Baelor stood at the far end, speaking to someone, posture straight, expression composed. Almost as if he did not look at you possessively the whole time.

Lyonel followed your gaze, then smiled to himself.

“Let's see how he behaves…” Lyonel joked.

You did not answer. And your pulse raced.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

You smoothed the fabric of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time, turning slightly in the bathroom mirror to check. The dress was black and elegant, nothing too bold, nothing inappropriate for a work event. But it hugged your body just enough to show off a little.

You were about to put the finishing touches for your makeup when the knock came.

Rushing to open it, you moved as Baelor stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

His gaze found you instantly and stayed. It moved slowly, deliberately, from your shoulders down to your waist, then back up again, as if committing every detail to memory. There was something unmistakably intense in it. Hunger, yes. But layered beneath it, darker, tighter…

Possession. The same look he had earlier in the day.

It made your breath catch.

“I just need a minute.” You said, going back to the bathroom mirror, suddenly hyper-aware of him behind you. “My makeup-”

“You look beautiful, dearest.”

The words were soft, but they carried weight. You met his eyes through the reflection.

He stepped further in, closing the space between you, his chest pressing against your back. 

“So beautiful…” He continued, voice lowering, “That it will make it very difficult for anyone in that room to remember themselves.”

Your hand stilled mid-motion.

“Wait… What is that supposed to mean?” You turned to face him fully now.

Baelor tilted his head slightly, as if considering how honest he should be. 

“It means…” He said, measured. “That you will draw attention. The kind that lingers. And the kind that invites.”

Your brows pulled together. “Invites?”

“Yes.”

Something sharp flickered in your chest.

“Do you… do you think I wanted them to approach me?” You asked, your voice tightening.

His expression did not change much, but something in his jaw set. “You did not seem to do much to deter them.”

The words landed heavier than he probably intended.

“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” You blinked at him. 

“Dear, all I am saying-”

“You know exactly how that would look if I 'deterred' them!” You interrupted him, frustration rising. “At a work event? In front of clients? Colleagues? It would reflect badly on me. On us.”

“I do not care about them-”

“Well, I do!” You snapped, the words sharper than you meant them to be. “Just because you have the power not to care, I care. I have to care. This is my work too, Baelor. I do not get to just… push people away because it makes you uncomfortable…”

“That is not what I am asking of you.” His voice was low, but frustration clouded his eyes.

“Well, it sounds exactly like what you are asking.” 

A brief silence fell between you, thick and charged.

“Do not make me feel bad for other people's actions,” you said, more quietly now, but no less firm. “Do not make me feel bad for doing my job.”

His expression shifted then, the edge in it faltering. “No. No, never, that is not what I meant.”

“Well, it sounded like it.” Your voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying you.

You turned away quickly, blinking hard as your vision blurred. Your hands came up instinctively, fanning beneath your eyes, careful not to ruin what you had just finished.

God. Not now, not before this.

Behind you, Baelor exhaled, slower this time. Regret threaded through it. He said your name softly.

“Please believe me, I did not mean-” His hands came up to your shoulders, gripping them tight.

“I know…” You said quickly, though your voice trembled. “I know you did not mean it like that.”

But it did not change how it felt.

“Can we please go now?” You asked, not quite looking at him. “I do not… I cannot talk about this right now.”

There was a pause, before he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Then, came a quiet: “Of course.”

By the time you arrived at the bar, both of you slipped on practiced composure like second skin. Polished, effortless, untouchable to anyone looking in from the outside. Inside, the lights were warm, the music low, the room already alive with conversation.

“I am going to the bar.” You said simply, not quite looking at him. “And then find Lyonel.” 

You did not wait for a response, you just walked away.

Your body still felt tight, like it had not relaxed from the argument. It was unlike you and Baelor to fight, really fight, but this… this was different. It was not just sharp words, it lingered.

Because you knew he did not mean it. But it still hurt.

The bar became your refuge more than anything else.

You leaned against it, drink in hand, letting the noise of the room wash over you. The conversations, laughter, the soft clink of glasses. It grounded you, dulled the edge of everything still twisting in your chest. It was easier to focus on that than on him.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You sighed. You did not even have to turn to know it was Lyonel.

“Please don't…” You said, your voice softer than you intended, barely holding steady. “I am not in the mood Lyonel.”

He slid into the space beside you anyway. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, tone shifting into something more serious now. “What did he do?”

“It is…” You started, then stopped, shaking your head slightly.

“It is not nothing!” He said, concern in his eyes. “I know you… I can see that you are barely hanging on.”

That did it. You swallowed, then told him quietly about what Baelor said, and the implication behind it. The way it settled under your skin, sharp and unwelcome.

Lyonel's expression darkened slightly as he listened. “He is so fucking insecure…”

“What?” You turned to him, caught off guard.

“Well, yes.” He said plainly, as if it were obvious. “Number one, you are younger than him. Number two, you are amazing, really brilliant at what you do. Do not even try to argue that. You could walk into half the companies in this city and they would fight to have you.”

You frowned slightly, but did not interrupt him.

“I think…” He continued, more measured now. “Baelor got used to the idea that you would always be there. At work, and in your relationship. That he never had to question it.” A small shrug. “And today, this conference and the recruiters shook that.”

You did not say anything, because part of you… understood.

“I am not excusing him!” Lyonel added quickly. “God no! He handled it badly. Very badly. But…” 

He hesitated, choosing his words more carefully now, “I think he is just scared to lose you.”

You let out a slow breath, staring down into your drink. Lyonel's explanation did not fix everything.

But it… shifted something.

“And for what it is worth.” Lyonel glanced  over your shoulder. “He looks like a man who just realised he said something incredibly stupid.”

That made your chest ache more, because you already knew that. Because you saw it in his face before you walked away.

Even now, even standing apart, you and Baelor were not really separated. It was like an invisible thread stretched between you, pulling your awareness back to him no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.

You felt it first, then your eyes glanced behind. And there he was, across the room, already gazing at you. The distance between you suddenly felt too small and too wide at the same time.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, he started making his way towards you.

Lyonel followed your line of sight, then huffed a quiet laugh. 

“Ah, that is my cue!” He grinned, stepping back slightly. 

He gave your arm a brief squeeze as he passed. “Call me if you need me.”

And just like that, he was gone. 

But, you barely registered him leaving, because Baelor was there now.

Close enough that you saw the tension still sitting in his shoulders, the restraint in the way he held himself. Close enough that the rest of the room dimmed around him.

Neither of you spoke immediately.

“I am leaving in fifteen minutes.” You said, your voice softer now, stripped of the earlier sharpness. “I cannot handle being in this room anymore.”

Your eyes met his mismatched, steady, but there was something unguarded in his now, something that asked. Not quite forgiveness, not that. But something close to it, a chance.

You understood that. “Will you come with me?”

Then he nodded. “Of course, dearest.”

A while later, you almost made it out unnoticed. Baelor was speaking to a few people before following you.

Just as you were about to reach the exit, somebody called out to you. 

“Leaving already?”

You turned, a polite smile already in place. One of the recruiters from early in the day stood in front of you. It was obvious that the alcohol had loosened him up. 

You did not appreciate the way he leered at you. 

“Just calling it a night.” You said curtly. 

He stepped closer than necessary, confident and persistent. He seemed the kind of man who was not used to being turned down. He circled you, placing himself between you and the exit. 

An involuntary shiver crossed your spine.

“Shame…” He said, gaze lingering. “I was hoping we would get a chance to talk properly.”

“We talked.” You replied evenly.

“No, not really.” He countered. “Not the way I wanted to. without… interruptions.”

You shifted slightly, creating space. “I definitely am not interested.”

It should have been enough. But it was not. 

“Come on!” He said, smiling and softer now, like that made it better. “Do not be like that.”

“I am not being anything.” You said, the edge creeping in your voice. “I said no.”

He smiled like he did not hear you. Or worse, like he did, and chose to ignore it.

Your patience snapped. “I am going to leave now.”

You moved to step past him. But he did not let you. He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. 

“Move!” You hissed at him. 

“I do not think so.” He smirked. 

As you were about to shove him, you felt another presence behind you. 

“That is enough.” Baelor's voice cut through, cold and final. 

The man looked at him, more than mildly irritated. “We are in the middle of-”

“No.” Baelor said, stepping beside you. “You are not.”

There was no raised tone, no outward aggression. But there was something in the way he stood, close, unyielding, unmistakably between you and the other man, that shifted the entire interaction.

“She said no.” He said with a finality that left no room for argument. 

The man hesitated, glanced between you and Baelor.

Something in Baelor's expression must have settled it.

“Right…” He muttered, stepping back. “Did not realise.”

“You do now.”

And just like that, it was over. The man slithered away, leaving you with Baelor. 

Silence lingered for a moment after he left.

You did not move at first. You just stood there, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, evenly. In the way that if you controlled that, everything else might follow.

Baelor was already watching you. There was something different in his expression now. The sharpness from earlier had dulled, replaced by something tighter. It was a mixture of unease, regret and worry.

His hand lifted slightly, hovering near your arm, like he wanted to touch you but was not sure he was allowed to anymore.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

You nodded, even if it was not entirely true. “I will be.”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “He should not have-”

“I was handling it.” You said gently, cutting him off before he could spiral into it.

“I know.” But he did not sound convinced. His gaze flickered briefly toward where the man had been, then back to you. “But I could not just stand there and watch it unfold.”

There was something raw in that, something instinctive and protective.

Your eyes softened, the earlier hurt easing just a fraction. 

“Thank you…” You whispered, the words quieter than anything you had said all evening.

His expression shifted immediately.

“Of course, dearest. Anything for you.”

Neither of you said much after that.

Not in the elevator. And not in the hallway.

The silence was not empty. It was heavy, filled with everything you did not say yet. He walked beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he did not touch you.

It was as if he was holding himself back, as though he did not trust himself not to reach for you.

The moment the door to your room closed behind you, something snapped.

The distance between you disappeared as you both reached out for one another. 

Baelor's hand came up to your face, warm and steady, his fingers brushing along your cheek like he needed to reassure himself you were really there. He exhaled deeply, like he had been holding his breath all evening.

“I did not like that.” He said quietly. “The way he spoke to you…”

“I know.” You murmured, leaning into his touch, your nose brushing softly against his. “Neither did I.”

“He would not listen.”

“I know.”

His forehead came to rest against yours, grounding. For a moment, neither of you moved. You stood there, just breathing the same air, sharing the same space again without resistance.

“I did not… I do not like the way they look at you.” He admitted.

And there it was again, that edge. That honesty he only allowed himself when the world was not watching.

You smoothed your hands over his chest, feeling the tension still coiled there beneath your palm.

“They can look…” You said softly. “And they can chase…”

Your fingers curled slightly in his shirt.

“I do not care about them. I never did, I never will.” You continued. “I care about you. Only you, Baelor.”

His breath hitched, just slightly.

“I am sorry…” he whispered. “For earlier. God, I should not have said that.”

You did not answer immediately.

“I know what this means to you…” He continued, his voice low and careful. “Your work. Your reputation. I would never want to undermine that.”

You exhaled slowly, your hands still resting against him.

“Then do not…” You said, just as softly. “And do not punish me for how other people act.”

His gaze softened, something heavier settling in it now. It was understanding, yes, but also something deeper. 

“I am not used to…” He started, then stopped.

“Used to what?” You asked quietly.

He looked at you then, fully, without deflection. His mismatched eyes locked on yours.

“I am not used to wanting something this much…” He admitted. “And not being able to control it.”

The honesty in it caught you off guard.

You searched his face, the last sharp edges of your anger fading.

“You do not get to control everything…” You said gently.

His lips curved faintly, though there was no real humor in it. “I am beginning to understand that.”

For a moment, you just looked at each other.

“You will not lose me, Baelor.” You said, the words firm. “You will not, not if I have a say in it.”

Something in him broke after you said that.

“I cannot stop thinking about it.” He said, voice rougher now, looking anywhere else but your eyes. “I do not want to hold you back. I do not want you to resent me one day for… for limiting you.”

His hand tightened slightly where it held your face.

“But the thought of losing you…” He shook his head faintly, like even saying it was too much. “It makes me lose my mind, my senses. A life without you…” 

His voice dropped. “It is not worth living to me.”

“Baelor…” you breathed, startled by the weight of it, by how true it sounded.

His eyes lifted fully to yours. There were no walls, no restraint.

“I love you.” He said.

The words settled between you, heavy and undeniable.

“I love you.” He repeated, softer this time. “And I need you like I need air… like I cannot breathe without you being close to me.”

Your chest tightened, something warm and overwhelming spreading through you.

“I love you too.” You said, the words coming easier than you expected. “God, I love you too, Baelor. I… I do not think I can do this without you either.”

And that was it, whatever restraint he had been clinging to all evening slipped away completely.

His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, like he could not bear even an inch of distance anymore.

And when he kissed you, it  was the first time that it felt… different.

Not because it lacked intensity. If anything, it was deeper and more passionate. But something in it had shifted. The tension that always coiled beneath the surface, the restraint he held onto so tightly… it was gone.

In its place was something slower, softer and certain.

His lips moved against yours with a kind of care that made your chest tighten, like he was not trying to claim or prove anything anymore. He only wanted to feel you. 

One of his hands held you there like you already belonged, as though he did not need to fight for it anymore. 

You felt it in every movement. In the way he kissed you deeper, but did not rush. In the way he lingered, as though memorizing the shape of you all over again. As though this, you, was something he refused to take for granted anymore.

And then he paused, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted to. As though he needed to know you were choosing this too.

Your fingers tightened in his shirt and you leaned into him instead, closing that small distance without hesitation.

A quiet answer. And a promise.

And something in him softened even further at that.

The kiss deepened again, unhurried. His breath warm against yours, his touch deliberate in a way that made everything else fall away.

Baelor's hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed flush against each other. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips.

“You are everything to me…” His voice was low, reverent, sending a shiver down your spine. “So perfect…”

You felt the heat building between you, that tense pull of wanting him so badly it ached. His fingers traced your form, before finding the zipper of your dress. He opened it slowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. But you did not. 

You arched into his touch, and he unzipped you, letting the pool down around your legs, exposing your skin to the cool air.

“God, look at you…” He whispered, eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight. 

His palms cupped your breasts gently, thumbs brushing your nipples over the fabric of your bra, until they hardened under his attention. His hands unclasped your bra with practiced ease and leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking softly while his tongue swirled around it. A moan escaped you, as the sensation shot straight to your core, making your thighs clench.

“Baelor…” You gasped, your hand moving to the back of his head, pulling him closer. He hummed in response, the vibration making you moan. He lavished the same attention on your other breast, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue. 

“So responsive, my beloved girl…” He praised, his breath hot against your damp skin. 

His hands moved lower, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them down. He helped you step out until you stood bare before him. The vulnerability made your heart race, but his gaze held no judgment, only adoration for you. 

Slowly, he pushed you towards the bed, gently helping you lay down. He parted your legs slowly, groaning at the sight of you. You hissed as the cool air kissed you slick folds.

He knelt slowly, pressing kisses along your stomach, down to your hips, then your thighs..

“You are so beautiful here too…” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “Wet and ready… All mine…”

His hands gripped your thighs, parting them slightly as he nuzzled against your mound. He pressed a soft kiss on each thigh before his tongue flicked out. He licked along your folds, slow and deliberate.

The tension coiled tighter inside you, every stroke of his tongue building the pressure. He circled your clit, sucking gently, then harder when you whimpered. 

“That is it, my love…” His voice was muffled against you. “You taste so sweet…”

His fingers joined in, one sliding inside your wetness, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He added a second finger, stretching you tenderly, pumping in rhythm with his tongue. You rocked against his mouth, chasing the pleasure, your breaths coming in short pants. The tenderness in his movements contrasted the passion surging through you, making it all the more intense.

You moaned his name loudly, teetering on the edge of your release, when he pulled back, making you whine loudly at the loss of his tongue and fingers.

“Baelor, why?”

He stood, quickly shedding his own clothes. His cock sprang free, painfully hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. 

“I need to feel you…” He covered your body with his, kissing you deeply as he angled his tip at your entrance. “Tell me you are mine.”

The words coax another moan from you, your walls fluttering around as he slid in. 

“Yours…” You breathe, voice trembling. “All yours, Baelor. Only yours, my love.”

He groaned loudly at that, fully burying himself into you, your walls welcoming him with a tight, wet grip. He paused, forehead resting against yours, letting you adjust to the stretch, to the intimacy of being joined so completely.

He began to move, slow thrusts that built a tender rhythm. Each slide in and out sent waves of pleasure through you, his cock hitting deep. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him closer. You met each of his thrusts, nails digging into his back, the tension winding tighter.

Baelor increased the pace, hips snapping harder. He kissed your collarbone, your breasts, murmuring praises between breaths.

“Feel how well we fit?” He groaned against your neck. “You are mine, and I am yours…”

His mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, tongues tangling, breaths mingling, as he drove into you with loving force. One of his hands slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles. 

“Look at me…” He urged softly. “My love, my beautiful girl, I want to see your eyes when you come undone… ”

The praise washed over you, fueling the fire in your veins. You clung to him, as his pace quickened thrusts turning more insistent.

Pleasure built relentlessly, your walls clenching around his thick length, the slick sounds of him fucking you filling the room. 

“Come with me, love…” He whispered, voice strained with his own approaching release. 

“Let go, I have got you. Such a good, perfect girl for me.” 

His words tipped you over, your orgasm crashing through you in waves, walls pulsing rhythmically as you shatter silently, body arching into his. His name slipped from your lips softly, more breath than sound, and he answered it the same way. 

He followed moments later, burying himself deep with a muffled groan against your neck, spilling inside of you. He thrust into you gently, drawing out every aftershock, until you were both spent, trembling in each other's arms.

“You were exquisite.” He whispered, kissing your cheek, lingering there as if he could not quite pull himself away. “My love, my everything…”

The words settled over you, warm and steady, carrying only truth, only feeling.

He drew you closer against him, your body fitting into his like it always had, like it always would. Wrapped in his embrace, the world seemed to fall away.

No noise, no expectations, no watching eyes.

Just the quiet rhythm of your breathing, slowly syncing together. The lingering warmth of everything you just shared humming between you. He pressed another soft kiss into your hair this time, more instinct than thought, like he needed the contact as much as you did.

And you let yourself sink into it, into him.

In that quiet aftermath, there was no rush to move, no need to speak. Only the soft, unspoken understanding between you.

You were there. He was there.

And in this moment, in this fragile, perfect moment, nothing else in the world existed beyond the two of you.

⚬ ⚬ ○ ⚬ ⚬

The next morning carried a different kind of energy.

The lobby, which had been all sharp edges and quiet judgment just the day before, felt looser. Conversations were softer, and laughter came easier. It was as if everyone had collectively agreed to let their guard down now that the conference was over.

You spotted Baelor immediately.

He stood at the front desk, finishing up the check-out, voice calm as he spoke with the receptionist, effortless and controlled.

Until he looked at you.

Your steps slowed just slightly as his gaze found yours, and for a moment everything else faded. There was warmth there in his multicoloured eyes. Something softer, so soft that it did not belong in public spaces like this.

You felt it settle low in your chest, blooming into something warm.

He gave you a small nod in greeting. As if he did not spend the early hours of the morning with you tangled in the sheets, whispering your name like it meant everything, making love to you as if it was the last thing he would ever do.

“You look… well rested.” Lyonel's voice broke through your thoughts as you came to stand beside him. It was too light, too knowing.

You did not even look at him. 

“Please do not start.” You begged him.

He laughed. “I am not starting anything.”

“That is what you always say.” You groaned, your eyes drifting back to Baelor despite yourself.

“You seem happier.” Lyonel hummed. 

“I always am.” 

“No, not like this.” He countered, looking at you fully. “And no, before you argue, I do not think it is just a post-conference glow.”

You turned to him, horrified. “Oh my God!”

He grinned. “What? I am observant.”

“You are insufferable!”

“And yet…” He winked, “Always correct.”

You huffed, setting your bag down atop your suitcase, but your attention was already elsewhere.

Back on Baelor. And as if he felt it, he turned.

The smile he gave you was softer, unguarded in a way that made your stomach flip. And this time, he did not hide it.

Patience, his eyes seemed to say.

And something warm, fluttering and impossible, spread through you.

You were so caught in it, you did not notice Duncan at first. Not the way he slowed, not the way he looked at you. Then at Baelor. Then at Lyonel. And back at you again. You missed the exact moment it clicked.

But you did not miss-

“Holy shit!”

Both you and Lyonel turned toward him, startled. It was then you realised why he said that.

“Duncan-” You started, already too late.

“So it is true?” He asked, staring at you. “You and Baelor?!”

Before you could say anything, Lyonel interjected.

“You know what?” He asked, shrugging lightly, “This might actually be for the best.”

You shot him a look, shocked at the betrayal. “Lyonel-!”

But Duncan was not looking at him, he was still looking at you. “You are serious?!” 

You pressed your hands briefly to your face, mortified. 

“Yes.” You finally admitted.

He let out a short laugh, somewhere between disbelief and vindication. “You and him?”

“Careful now…” Lyonel added, entirely unhelpful. “She is very sensitive about this.”

“I hate you.” You grumbled, still hiding behind your hands.

Duncan ignored you both. “How long has this been going on?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, your gaze went towards Baelor, who was still at the reception desk, with his back to you. He was completely unaware of the conversation that was happening.

“For a while now…” You admitted.

“I knew it.” He whispered. “I knew something was happening between you too.”

At Lyonel's snort, he turned sharply to him. “And you were trying to run reconnaissance.”

“Hey now!” Lyonel laughed. “I was helping my friend.”

“And you knew people were talking?” He gasped at you. “What I was asking about you?”

“I did.” You smiled sheepishly.

“And Baelor…” He nodded his head towards him. “Does he know I suspected something?”

“Yeah…” You nodded. “I might have mentioned it to him…”

Duncan dragged a hand down his face. “Good thing he did not fire me.”

“He is not like that!” You defended Baelor immediately.

Duncan put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

“Incoming.” Lyonel said, grinning wildly while nudging you. 

You turned, seeing Baelor walking towards you now, his gaze on you.”

“This is going to be fun.” Lyonel chuckled.

“For who?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

“For me.”

“Of course.” You muttered.

Baelor stood close to you, close enough that you felt it again, that quiet pull between you. His gaze searched yours instinctively, before shifting to the others.

“Ready to leave?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

There was something different, because this time when your eyes met, you did not look away so quickly. You did not have too. You did not have to pretend.

Baelor noticed, something shifting in his expression, subtle but unmistakable.

But before he said anything, Duncan snorted.

Baelor's gaze snapped to him instantly, sharp and assessing. “Is there something amusing, Duncan?”

Duncan froze and you could see the panic rising in his eyes.

“No…” He stammered. “Just… everything makes sense now.”

“Does it?” Baelor arched his brow.

You reached out, brushing his arm lightly in an attempt to calm him down. 

Before anything could escalate, Lyonel stepped in.

“Alright!” He said brightly, clapping his hands together once. “Now that we all know, and no longer need to pretend, can we please stop with the performance?

“What?” You blinked.

He gestured vaguely between you and Baelor. “The distance you are pretending to hold, the restraint you are pretending to hide. It is exhausting and I am tired.”

“You are tired?” You asked in disbelief.

“Deeply.”

“Lyonel-” Baelor's eyes narrowed.

“Oh do not worry.” He cut in quickly. “Both of you were professional, great performances all around. Truly award worthy.”

You were about to snap back when he smiled softly at you.

“I love you.” He said. “You know that. Ride or die.”

Your irritation faltered.

“And I am happy.” He added. “That you are happy. That you found something real.”

The warmth in his voice caught you off guard.

“But I am also thrilled…” He continued, his grin returning, “That I no longer have to pretend I do not see it.”

Heat rose instantly to your cheeks.

“Come on, Dunk!” He said, grabbing Duncan's arm. “Let us see if the taxi arrived, before they start being sentimental.”

And just like that, you and Baelor were left alone. His hand found yours without hesitation this time. Not hiding, no careful distance now.

His fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently.

“It was bound to happen.” He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I know.” Sighing, you admitted.

You looked at him then, really looked at him. And whatever had been carefully contained before… was not anymore.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and absentminded, but grounding, familiar.

Yours.

“I meant what I said last night.” He added quietly.

Your breath caught. “So did I.”

Something softened in his gaze at that. This was no longer the controlled version of him, not the one the world saw.

This was your Baelor.

He stepped closer, just enough, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He said it again.

And this time, you smiled widely.

“I love you too.”

Taglist: @ladygrimmx, @gespirida, @wallachianvampire, @somniari-94, @aysamuka, @outpostsworld, @lovergirlygirl, @omgwhataloser, @theqvynrand, @luvweezer, @gezello, @raashluvsff, @1-lu-1, @hamlet111, @fizzie-bubbles, @gotham-lady, @kishie8, @nancystrange, @emneedshelp, @tomie9kawakami, @travelingmypassion, @crazyfangirln1, @miramindlesslywriting, @kellyyn02, @sleepysunriser, @jakecockley, @fiwnsikw, @agirlwithmanyloves, @doctortrek, @anathemius, @optimistictacosaladcloud, @flyinglama, @therighteousmanisdead, @angelofpearls, @mahumf9, @thecryptidabyss, @viiistrength, @llucyfer, @eddie-munsons-mommy, @stevengrantsqueen, @kvroshit, @hcafx101, @klntt, @thateldritchairin, @belladonnadarksshade, @seoknaei, @alecriminn, @starfallenlady, @highexpectationsgurl

[breakspearz]

WHAT A PERFECT CHAPTER OH I'MDFHJBDFJHB I LOVED THIS SERIES SO MUCH

[sem-ra]

Omg Sab, thank you for your kind words 💜💜💜

[julez-5]

THE DRAGON’S DOE—Maekar Targaryen

Maekar Targaryen x Baratheon!wife!reader

content: The Tourney was suppose to be a fun time to relax until your husband lost the two children he was in charge of.

words: 2.5k

cw: MDNI 18+ p in v, fingering, cockwarming, a pussy slap, slapping, pussy pronouns, breeding (shocker), OOC Aerion (he is better behaved as Maekar is not a single mom)

a/n: this was originally just going to be them hooking up at tourneys, but I decided to make them married for the plot. I lokwey might do an origin story if anyone is interested lol.

You were not sure what had possessed you to want to visit home, but that slowly died after spending a whole day with your mother, but the girls seemed to be having a fun time being closer to the water,  while Aerion sulked as he had lost another round of sword play to his uncle. 

“You are brooding. You look like your damn dragon,” your brother muttered from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“He has been your good-brother this long and you still cannot say his name,” you countered, raising a brow. 

Lyonel laughed with a shake of his head, “It does not change the fact that he is a miserable bastard.” 

You could still remember Lyonel’s bitter reaction when you had declared you were going to wed Prince Maekar. You were hardly a woman grown in love for the first and had declared to your father that if he denied the match when it was proposed you would burn down Storm’s End 

You lifted your knife that you had previously used to cut your meat now flashed before his face, causing him to scoot back slightly, “Watch yourself,” you warned.

“I see where, Aerion, gets it from,” he then muttered, looking away from you toward your second whose face mirrored your own as he picked away at his supper. 

“Mama,” a small voice called out. 

You turned looking toward Rhae who sat across from you, “Yes?” you asked, your face transforming to one of a softer expression within a moment. 

“When are we leaving to go see kepa?” 

As if you could hear her thoughts your head snapped down to the end of the table glaring at your mother. She had been even less pleased than your brother when marrying a Targaryen and it now showed more than ever especially watching her interact with your children. 

Lyonel, at least, loved his nieces and nephews. Your mother was a different story. You made a mental reminder to make Lyonel visit you at Summerhall next time he was missing you. 

Aerion’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother holding her gaze as if he himself was warning her not to start with his mother. “On the morrow,” you told her.  “Why don’t you three go get ready for bed. We will have an early start. I will be right in,” you told them with a smile. 

The three eventually went off to bed, the eldest of them the most reluctant, but went nonetheless. You turned looking to your brother, “Next time you are coming to Summerhall so I do have to deal with the looks or the comments about my silver haired brood,” you declared loudly pushing yourself to your feet. 

You ignored your mother’s voice, but it was easy to ignore as it mixed with your brother’s loud laughter. Your father simply sat at the table with a sigh, “You are the reason she hardly comes around,” he muttered to his wife. 

Your eyes moved from your good-brother to your husband, “You lost our sons? You were in charge of two children and you lost them both?” You stood in front of the long table where they sat Lord Ashford having excused himself at your arrival being half terrified to hear how you took the news of your missing sons. 

Maekar rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath which only caused you to raise a brow, “Is that not what you did? We have six children. One is at the Citadel, three were with me, and two with you. Where are you two, Maekar?”

Baelor let out a small chuckle pressing his hand to his mouth as if trying to hide his betrayal, but his younger brother had already heard him long and clear. “Tell her why Daeron ran off.”

Your eyes snapped to the elder then slowly turned to your husband, “Why did they run off, Maekar?”

The man opened his mouth and closed it again. You let out a sigh, your hand moved, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come,” you beckoned, turning out of the hall. 

You did not have to turn to know he was following you, even if you could not hear his boots against the ground you knew he would have followed after you. 

At the last minute he moved ahead of you, opening the door and allowing you to enter inside the provider chamber. Your eyes scanned the room, it was nowhere near as grand as the one at Summerhall, but it was rather large. 

You moved toward the table at the far side pouring the wine in the flagon into two respective chalices. “Why did Daeron run off?” you asked once more. 

He moved to sit in one of the chairs as you settled in the other. “He was going to enter the lists.”

“Oh, Maekar," you groaned in frustration. 

“He is a man grown, it is expected of him!” he argued. 

You rolled your eyes, “He is not Aerion nor is he you. The sooner you come to that realization the happier our lives can be.”

He sighed, but argued no further. “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he whispered quietly as if it would bring shame to admit it. 

“Cannot hear you,” you teased, raising a brow. 

His jaw clenched, “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he said louder this time. 

You hummed, downing the rest of your wine as you stood to your feet making your way over to him. His legs parted for you like they had done thousands of times before as you looked down at him. 

Your hands moved cupping either side of his face forcing him to look up. The hair of his beard rubbed against your palms. His violet eyes flickered over your face, as his hardened features visibly softened now that you were alone. 

“I have missed you too,” you confessed, leaning down to press your lips to his. 

It was chaste and it caused him to chase after you as you pulled away staring down at him. He groaned in displeasure before his hand trailed up gripping your ass and forcing you down onto his lap. 

This time when his lips met yours it was anything, but chate. A hunger clash of teeth as you both tried to convert your overwhelming need for the other into it. It had been long. Too long without the other, and it always made the reunion just that much sweeter. 

You pulled away once your lungs begged for more air than you were currently providing them with, “You are getting soft on me, husband,” you teased, your hands interlaced through his silver locks giving it a harsh tug. 

“Shut your mouth,” he grunted, his own mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your throat. 

“Make me.”

He grinned pulling the strings before you were being forced onto your feet, “Take your dress off,” he instructed. 

You did as you were told, allowing the black fabric to pool at your feet. Maekar had finally freed his cock, by the time you were bare before him moving forward as you straddled him once more. The chair groaned under your combined weight, but neither of you truly cared. 

Your mouth reconnected with his as his large hands moved. You rose up onto your 

He drew his hand back giving your cunt a harsh slap, causing you to shoot forward your head to rest on his shoulder, “Not running your mouth now,” he muttered. 

You leaned back, your hand raising to connect with his face the same way he had just done to your womanhood. His head snapped to the side before slowly turning back to you, a wide grin on his lips. 

“She is soaked,” he whispered, his mouth moving to nip at your neck as he entered a digit into your drooling hole with ease. You hummed your head tilting back as you let out a loud moaning as his thumb rubbed a circle on your clit. 

“She might already be ready to take me,” he said, slipping another finger into you. 

You nodded, “I told you..I’ve missed you,” you told him, grinding yourself down against his hand. 

He nodded in agreement withdrawing his finger, giving his cock a lazy few strokes as you hovered over him. He notched himself at your hole holding your eye contact as you slowly sunk down on him, taking him inch by inch. 

He sat back waiting for you to begin to fuck yourself onto him, but you did not budge. You sat there staring at him, “Move,” he grunted. 

“No. You lost our sons,” you told him. He groaned your name as if it was painful, but you still did not move. “Why should I move? Plead your case.” 

“You are my wife and I have missed you so I order you to move.”

“Missed me or my cunt?”

“Both,” he confessed, trying to get you to move but you fought against him staying still. 

“You lost our sons,” you pointed out. 

“I will find them,” he promised. 

That was good enough for you, allowing you to finally give him moving your hips against his. His mouth moved forward latching around your hardened peak of your breast, “Maekar,” you moaned, your nails digging into the pale skin of his shoulder. 

“Missed you,” he muttered, as he dragged his tongue across the valley of your breast turning to get the other side the same attention as the first. You grinded your hips down into him quickly, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at his base causing you to already feel the coil in your belly quickly building. 

“She’s taking me so well.”

You only groaned in response, your nails digging further into him. His hands dug into your hip bones no doubt going to leave bruises in his wake, painting your skin with the reminder of him. 

“You’re close already,” he observed, feeling the way you kept fluttering around him, the loud cry of his name being the only thing you could truly say. 

You nodded eagerly, fucking yourself into him harder trying to achieve the ecstasy of relief, “Be a good girl and finish on your husband’s cock,” he instructed, continung to lap and suck at your hardened nub. 

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned when the coil in your belly finally snapped. 

You went boneless in his embrace moving forward. Maekar continued to fuck you through your high as he chased his own release, “Gonna fill you,” he told you, as he thrusted up into you quickly. 

“Give me another, babe, husband," you muttered, and that was his undoing as buried himself to the hilt, the long ropes of cum shooting out filling you with him for the first time in what felt like forever.

Your ragged breaths filled the room as your flesh pressed against the other, his heat radiating off him as if he was your own personal fire. You were still slumped against his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his sweat slickened skin, “Oh, my dragon I have missed you,” you coed. 

He grunted in response, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “Don’t leave that long again.”

“I can’t. You lose our children in your absence.” 

The Baratheon tent was chaotic as always as your second son and yourself sat at the high table glancing around. You let out a sigh debating making your way back to the castle to await your husband’s return when you finally noticed a small boy next to an overly large man. Though his head was shaved you would have recognized that face anywhere. 

“Aerion?” you asked, tilting your head toward the young man. He hummed in response turning toward you, “Is that your brother or are the fumes of stench finally getting to me.”

His head turned following your extended hand, and you watched his eyes instantly widen. “That’s what I thought,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet. 

You made your way through the tent, men alike moving out of the way averting their eyes as if they were scared to make eye contact with you, but you did not care your gaze was set on your missing son. 

The boy immediately looked toward the large knight hoping to his feet as he urged his companion to do the same and was almost successfully able to make a break for it before, “Aegon!” was called out loudly. 

Your brother who had heard the commotion slowly approached eyes flickering between his sister and his new companion, “What is going on?” he asked, but you ignored him, eyes trained on the bald boy. 

Egg paused for a moment and you could tell he was debating ignoring you like he did when he was caught doing something he should not have been. “If you run you will stay with your uncle for two moons,” causing him to turn toward you slowly. 

The large man turned from you to the boy at his side, “M’Lady?” he questioned, as if you had gone crazy. 

Your son looked at you with a sheepish smile that caused your head to spin. You quickly turned to your brother, “How many times has been in this tent?” you asked. Lyonel scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Your missing nephew was in your tent and you did not notice him!” you hissed, driving your finger into his chest. 

The hedge knight’s eyes widened, glancing from the Baratheon siblings to the boy at his side, “Nephew…That means,” he slowly started to put the pieces together. 

“That you have had Prince Maekar and my darling sister’s missing son, my dear friend,” Lyonel laughed moving toward the hedge knight as he kept his eyes on you as if he were afraid you were going to strike him. 

“I am so sorry, M”lady I had no idea!”

The Baratheon man smirked, “Well now that is all sorted out you can take dear Aegon back to the castle and I will fill in Ser Duncan.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nope. The hedge knight is mine now, brother,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Come along. Ser…?”

“Duncan,” Egg supplied. 

“Ser Duncan. Mayhaps one of you can inform me where the hell my eldest son has taken off too,” you muttered, shaking your head. 

You went to move toward the exit when you felt a small hand wrap around yours causing you to look down, “I am sorry I ran off, but I lied to Ser Duncan, and he does not deserve to get in trouble.”

“Oh, good, because Ser Duncan is not going to get in trouble for keeping you alive. You are going to get in trouble for lying to the poor knight and running off.”

Aegon in the moment wasn’t sure which was going to be worse his father’s fiery temper or his mother’s fury.

maekar taglist: @sacha1slytherin @erylilly @thebl00dwyrm @ilocuras24 @xkatherinexo @eleventhboi @alaeratrrn @sem-ra @vigilante24ish @alecriminn @kravitzwhore @loveslide @xostarrgirl @claerysa @karakatitsa-sonya @ghost-heart34 @princessphilly @eowyns-fantasy @hourastius @aryaslittleneedle

if you would like to join the tag list for future maekar stories feel free to drop a comment :)

[sem-ra]

Julez, amazingly written as always!! As much as I love Maekar, he does not have the best track record of keeping an eye on his kids 🤣

[sallymaywritings]

Hii, I saw that you're accepting Maekar requests!! I'm thinking on a Reader whose family is planning an arranged marriage with the Targaryens (could be with Daeron or Aerion) but when she sees Maekar she refuses to marry one of his sons since she's more interested in him, could you write it? If you do, thank you so much<33 I'm loving 'Portraits' so far

The Wrong Prince

Pairing: Maekar Targaryen x F!Reader Warning(s): Nothing particular, some filthy thoughts, romantic situation, personal struggling in wanting another man, slight embarrassment, happy ending. No use of y/n, the reader has no physical description. No AI involved, all of my garbage is mine, and I'm still human. English is not my first language; my apologies for any eventual mistakes. Don't copy, translate, upload, or use my works anywhere. Like, Comments and Reblogs are always welcome :D

A/N: uhhhh my dear anon, I completely misread the part of your request where you specify the reader must marry Daeron or Aerion, and I chose Valarr. I swear, I don't know why. I'll probably write another story with your specific idea, and I'll add some angst in it!

Tag List: @orson-pope @californiablues88 @risefallrise @ghostlybfgf

Divider by targaryen-dynasty

“It’s just a meeting.”

“An engagement meeting. You already arranged everything.” You spat out your irritation as your private maids were preparing you for that important day.

“I’m not going to force my only daughter into a wedding she doesn’t desire.”

You always thought your father was one of the most good-hearted men in the world, and his permission for your marital choice was a confirmation of your idea of him. He never imposed anything on you, and he was open to talking about almost everything.

“Don’t be a fool, father. We can’t refuse this marriage.” You sighed with resignation. “The last thing I wish is to drag our family into shame.”

“My dear. Prince Valarr is a much-desired bachelor. Every family was waiting for him to be on the marriage mart. When Prince Baelor informed me about his decision, my heart rejoiced for you.”

“Alright, father. Understood.” You nodded vigorously with the intent to interrupt the poor man from humiliating himself in front of you.

Your dress was part of the best collection your family could afford, only to impress the Prince, and it wasn’t all; your father bought a new carriage to let you arrive at King’s Landing at your best. You were grateful, of course, but still not necessary.

During the short journey from your home to the capital, your father couldn’t stay quiet even for a moment. He dispensed suggestions, he reminded you of your duties, and shared his enthusiasm at the idea of walking you to the aisle. You haven't seen him this happy in a while, definitely not after your mother's death.

You were calm, still thinking it would have been just a meeting. What didn’t you expect was the crowded welcoming committee. Half of the royal family was present, not to mention the numerous servants, maids, and guards. No one except the noble guests could approach the entrance square, and suddenly you realised where you were getting yourself into.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Your father asked.

“I… I’m not.” You admitted quietly, peeking from the curtain. Your heartbeat increased significantly, and your throat dried suddenly.

“You’ll be fine.” He kissed your hand as encouragement.

You quickly covered your face with the light veil of your headgear as your father left the carriage first and gave you his hand to help you out. All the eyes were on you while you moved to meet Prince Valarr.

The tension was so high that your head felt dizzy, and you started sweating. It was impossible for you to hear people’s comments, and yet it was as if you could hear a fly buzzing miles away. You took a deep breath when Valarr walked toward you, leaving the rest of the family behind. The prince stopped a couple of steps from you as you bowed and proceeded to lift the veil from your face.

Both of you stared at each other for long moments, but nothing happened. No matter how beautiful you both were, the spark did not ignite, no butterflies in the stomach, no warm sensation deep inside you. A glimpse of panic emerged, a thousand intrusive thoughts overwhelmed your brain, keeping you quiet.

“My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you under such delightful circumstances.” Lucky you, Valarr spoke first, understanding the situation. “Your presence here is of great happiness. The Red Keep is at your service.”

He was good with words indeed. There was no mistake from his sweet smile to his perfect attitude. No doubt he prepared at best, and yet, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was out of place.

“The pleasure is mine, your highness. My heart is full of joy for this moment.” A diplomatic smile emerged with your words.

“Please, let me accompany you inside.”

When you accepted his hand and walked together at the castle entrance, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause. Baelor was waiting for you, clapping his hands as well and smiling, all proud of his son. You formally greeted the heir to the throne, your future brother-in-law, Matarys and then moved on to meet Maekar Targaryen.

That was the moment you were certain everything was going to go wrong. The deep emotion you should have felt with Valarr suddenly pervaded you when you met Maekar’s intense gaze. He was rigid, standing straight with his hands behind his back, head up but his eyes down at you. There was no trace of a smile or gentleness in his expression, but maybe that was what made your blood boil into your veins. You were used to gentleness and softness, but you could see half of it was a lie. Maekar felt direct, true and raw, and something clicked in your brain.

You bowed without saying a word, too scared of saying something wrong, too scared of receiving a hypothetical sharp response, because Maekar looked exactly like a man of sharp responses.

What a surprise it was when he just welcomed you like everyone else.

“Welcome to the Red Keep, my lady.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. It’s an honour to be here.”

Other forms of courtesy were exchanged; words of circumstance, formal gestures and the eagerness of that moment vanished the same way it had begun. Baelor invited you and your father as guests for the days that followed, emphasising the importance of you and Valarr staying together as much as possible to get to know each other. Of course, your father was eager for it; his dream to see his daughter in a wedding gown was slowly coming true.

So the torture started. You and Valarr had to do those stupid supervised walks together, at least once a day. Not to mention the face-to-face breakfasts in a separate room, far from the rest of the family to avoid any kind of embarrassment.

You and Valarr had very little in common. He was gentle in asking you what your favourite book was, or if you could play some instrument, but it was clear he wasn’t interested in it. Your replies were always concise because you didn’t want to get him bored. Valarr talked about his interests without conviction, clearly forced into it, and you tried your best to appear interested.

Dinner time was your favourite moment. You could eat at the royal table with the rest of the family, and you were happy to sit in a place where you had a clear view of Maekar. The Prince hunted your thoughts since the first time you met, and you could barely control your emotions at his presence. There were many moments when you got lost in your thoughts, imagining what a conversation would have been like with him, how he would have acted if he were the man who had to court you instead of Valarr, and getting lost in many more inappropriate fantasies.

One particular evening, something tragic happened. You were ready to observe Maekar from your seat, lost in your fantasy while the rest of the men talked, as always happened. Your eyes immediately landed on him when he started to speak up with Baelor and your father, but you kept staring at him even when they concluded the talk and focused on their meals. You didn’t realise it, and when you retrieved your senses, you noticed Valarr had caught you in the act. The embarrassment was so great you couldn’t move your attention from your plate for the rest of the dinner.

The next morning, you were sitting in the gardens, waiting for the usual walk with Valarr. You barely slept the night before, thinking of a way to apologise to the Prince. You smelled the flower in your hand before throwing it to the ground with frustration and standing up to take a walk. At this point, you weren’t surprised if Valarr would have refused the marriage.

“My lady.”

Maekar’s voice reached your heart with such emotional strength that you struggled to turn around and face him. You hated how good you felt in being alone with him, considering there was the possibility he was there because Valarr said something to him about what happened the evening before.

“Your Grace.” You bowed instantly.

“I think you lost something.”

He had picked the flower you threw away and used it as an excuse to approach you significantly. Your hand was trembling when you took the flower from his, slightly brushing his fingers.

His purple gems lingered on your hand and slowly moved on your throat, on your lips. Feral ideas woke his limbs. How your sweet voice would sound as he wrapped his hand around your throat, and how your body felt if he pulled your hair as he buried himself in your untouched body. He had to move his attention elsewhere to suffocate the sensation you caused him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, clearing his throat.

You pulled out a smile, shaking your head. “No, Your Grace. I am just excited to meet Prince Valarr.”

“Prince Valarr is not coming this morning.” He announced, carefully observing your reaction. It was a bait to be sure that what he noticed the days before wasn’t just his imagination, and he had the confirmation of it when you pursed your lips and slightly nodded. It was clear you didn’t care about Valarr, or at least, you weren’t sorry if he wasn’t there.

“May I ask why? Is the Prince not feeling well?” You asked with gentleness.

He could have continued speaking through his nephew, but his abrupt nature led him to go straight to the point. “Do you care for real?” He asked without preamble but especially without formalities.

You were speechless and very much scared, sure that Valarr got offended and sent his uncle to break the engagement.

“Why would I not?” Again, you tried your best to be gentle and respectful. “Prince Valarr is…”

“Stop this farce. It doesn’t suit you.”

Your smile dropped, and you had to swallow the knot in your throat. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. Whatever I did that offended Prince Valarr wasn’t my intent.”

“I know.” Maekar said as he slowly moved around you, like a predator with his prey. Like a holder who was going to interrogate his prisoner. “I have seen how committed you and Valarr were to making things work.”

“Did the Prince say something?”

Maekar stopped, considering whether maintaining that conduct would be ideal for his intention. He could have spoken his mind, because he was too old to make a proper courtship, but you were a fresh flower who deserved to be courted properly.

“He was scared to break your heart until you turned your attention to me. He sent me here this morning to dissipate his doubts.” It was a bait to taste the water.

Your hand reached your mouth in a moment of hesitation and bitter-sweet sense of guilt. You felt bad for Valarr and for your father but having the occasion to get rid of that burden was liberating.

“It doesn't matter for whom my heart beats, I will never refuse this marriage.”

It was an indirect admission of your guilts and a subtly love confession for him. Maekar turned around, overwhelmed by his own feelings and the sweet idea he could fall in love once again after so many years.

“I owe you an apology, my lady.” He said then. “I lied to you because I wanted you to reveal your real thoughts.”

The warmth he felt in confessing it increased only when he felt your hand brushing against his. He turned to look down at your hands intertwined together and up to meet your begging eyes.

“I speak my heart if you do the same, Your Highness.” You dared to say. His jaw tightened, and he swallowed as he briefly nodded. “My attention sharpened at the moment Valarr moved the veil from your face, and your beauty filled my dreams the nights that followed.”

Your sincere smile brightened your face and it widened when he kissed your hand.

“It’s the first time since your arrival that I see a real smile on you.”

You covered your mouth again unable to stop smiling. “It’s your fault… my lord.”

“Allow me to bring the smile to your face again, my lady. I am sure Prince Valarr will not object to my courtship.”

“My father won’t survive this.” You smirked and shook your head.

“I will speak to your father, if it makes you happy.”

Your slight nod of acceptance made him feel happy again after so many years of mourning and loneliness.

[sem-ra]

She is me and I am her! Maekar would always be my first choice 😍😍

[rosesforshoto]

mating press is heavy on my mind today like not even being able to squirm underneath him because he’s literally shoving you through the mattress with his entire weight. him not even thrusting but letting his heavy cock sit all the way deep inside you as he presses kisses all over your face and reassures you that it’s okay and that he’ll take it slow. and you tear up a little because it hurts just the tiniest bit in this position but then he’s whispering how good you are for him while caging you tight in his arms and

[eowyns-fantasy]

this man

[greelin]

horror media asking the question “what if you got stuck in here with vampires?” and it’s like… oh noooooo haha i would have a downright awful time… haha.. what if… what IF