#dommedany

[fierypen37]

moodboard by @libradoodle1

[fierypen37]

I Will Do Anything You Ask

moodboard by @libradoodle1​

 I Will Do Anything You Ask

 The Clone War, as the journalists coined it, raged now into its seventh month. Seven months since the Battle of Vaes Tolorro. Seven months since Daenerys and Jon had wed in secret on Westeros. And three months, seven days and ten hours since she had last seen him. Forbidden love turned out to be a damned hard occupation. Moments of joy and intimacy stolen. Feigned indifference in mixed company. Long, lonely nights with nothing to distract herself from her worry. It rested in her heart, calcified, rattling around with each beat. Rigorous exercise and zeal for her work wore her into exhaustion. Several ragged hours of sleep before the cycle began again.

Daenerys lamented not being born Force-sensitive. Had she been, she and Jon could have heard each other’s thoughts through the Force, at least when they were on the same planet. As things stood, Daenerys had to make sure her gaze didn’t linger too long or too unguarded. Daenerys buried her nose in her wine glass without tasting the usually excellent vintage. There he was, not six steps from her! Every cell of her body and soul sang at the sight of him. Tall and strong and whole.

His hair! She hadn’t seen those tight black curls since he was a boy. As a Jedi Knight, he could now wear his hair as he wished. The fringe of his black hair fell to his chin, his beard had filled out. He seemed broader, thick with muscle. Strong and rangy like powerful wolf. The beauty of him stole her breath. Dany longed to embrace him, talk to him, see him smile, but could not. To maintain their ruse, she must continue to act as if she had severed all contact with Jon Snow. Master Benjen, ever mannerly, did not seek out contact with her out of respect for Jon’s feelings. Where was Ghost?

Daenerys turned to converse with a Qartheen diplomat, a dance of words left flowed from her mouth. Inane, meaningless chatter. The Chancellor’s Palace as a seat of government, dripped opulence. The shine of precious metals, rich, expensive carpeting, even in this out of the way conference room. Serving droids wove through the throngs, offering trays of sparkling wine and finger food. Incense and tabacc smoke floated in a gauzy white cloud over the room. Dany felt slightly dizzy from the strong smell. Dany rubbed her steel wedding ring with her thumb in a self-comforting gesture.

The Republic had recalled Master Benjen and Jedi Knight Jon Snow to the capital to discuss the progress of the war on several Outer Rim systems. Pairs of Jedi were recalled at intervals, so as not to deprive a sector of their command indefinitely. Two days, maybe three, and he would be gone again. The chronometer ticking mercilessly in the back of Daenerys’ head. Something like panic clawed at her throat. So few hours together. Here she was laughing and mindless chatter!  

She dared another glance at Master Benjen and Jon, deep in conversation with one of the Chancellor’s ubiquitous aides. This time, his gaze met hers. A thrill shot through her. Though the contact lasted for the briefest of seconds, she felt all of her love and longing reflected. Her heartbeat throbbed in her temples. Dany squeezed her thighs together. Her cunt throbbed, remembering their last desperate coupling—scant minutes before he boarded his starship and flew away three months ago. Daenerys drank in his features in a greedy sidelong glance. Stars, a new scar knifed through his right eyebrow and curled in a jagged curve around his right eye. Dany bit the inside of her lip. Whatever he faced had nearly blinded him. Wedding a warrior was a heavy burden.

An astromech droid with markings she didn’t recognize wheeled up to her, its arm offering her a reader chip. Her heartbeat sped up. The droid beeped and chirped, but it had been many years since Dany had used droid-speak.

“Thank you,” she said to the R2 unit. Turning to her companion, she excused herself. She found an unoccupied alcove and unlocked the chip with her fingerprint. The Basic script was one sentence: Meet me in the stars in 10 minutes. A shaking breath left her. Part relief, part excitement. At last!

‘The stars’ was a reference to her penthouse apartment near city center. Any communication they left for the other was as coded as they could make it. No signatures, no flourishes, only the barest of details. Daenerys gently extricated herself from conversation and excused herself. The night air was warm, humid kiss as she descended the stairs to droid depot. The droid pilot of the landspeeder moved too slow for her taste.

“Can you hurry? I’m late to meet . . . someone,” she ended lamely. Obligingly, the droid sped up, ascending through varying levels of traffic of the apartment complex. Heart in her throat, Dany hurried to the lift. Had he beat her here? A thought chilled her excitement. Perhaps Master Benjen had diverted him. Despite their care, had someone discovered them? Daenerys’ stomach turned over. Scandals and trials and disgrace awaited them if it were so.

The door whispered open. A soft glow of light in the bedroom beckoned her in the quiet, humming darkness of the apartment. Nerves stretched taut in anticipation. Jon was here. The savor of his energy made the air hum and sing. He was here, and waiting for her.

“Jon?” she called.

“Mistress,” Jon answered immediately. The air crackled.

Though their lovemaking was both passionate and exquisitely pleasurable, Dany had long sensed that her husband needed something . . . more. Many halting conversations where Jon blushed deep red with mingled embarrassment and excitement had led them to what he wanted—needed. Not every time. Usually, Jon was quite happy to make love as they generally did. But, as the stresses of the war increased, he craved surrender.

Dany straightened her posture, ready to give him what he needed. Arousal throbbed in her cunt; she clenched her thighs to quiet the urgency. She entered their bedroom, lit by the gentle yellow glow of candlelight. The delicate scent of wildflowers perfumed the air. Her gaze latched hungrily on Jon. Naked, kneeling at the foot of the bed, eyes downcast. He was hard—so hard already. Saliva filled her mouth, yearning to taste the tender skin and throbbing heat, the salty burst of his seed.

“My sweet boy,” she said, “look at me.” Jon obeyed, perfectly. His grey eyes burned, both lustful and vulnerable. An intoxicating mix.

“Come, undress me.”

Jon crossed the room in an outrageous Force-assisted leap. Dany smiled indulgently at his antics. He was trembling with eagerness, as he gently undid the fastenings of her dress, plucked the pins from her hair, unhooked her undergarments. She shivered at the grazing caress of his rough hand, an answering coldness from the cybernetic one. The ghost of his heat and his strong, masculine scent caressed her. Dark metal gleamed in the wavering light—a cybernetic replacement of Jon’s arm just above the elbow. A dark Jedi had maimed him several months ago. The sight always filled her heart with tenderness.

Dany’s nipples puckered in the cool air.

“Mistress,” he whispered, his voice raw with pleading. Dany cupped his chin roughly, one finger petting the plushness of his beard. A sound lodged in Jon’s throat, part whimper, part sigh.

“Remember what we discussed, my sweet boy. You must tell me what you want,” Dany said in her ‘Mistress’ voice, warm, but steely. Jon knelt before her, his eyes swimming with perfect devotion. He wound his arms around her waist, burying his face against her belly.  He nuzzled her, the words emerging half-muffled. She indulged her wish to comb his hair, sinking her fingers deep into the warm, springy weight of it, silky clean strands sliding through her fingers.

“I want you to fuck me, Mistress,” he said. A hum of approval left her. Dany closed her eyes, trying to master the rising ache of her own lust. It had been so long. Dany almost wished Jon could’ve waited for their game after they had burned off some of this mutual longing. But the game was far too enjoyable for both of them for the complaint to be serious.

“Specifics, my love. How do you want me?” she purred. Jon looked up at her, his fair skin pinked in a blush. Raised as a slave on Winterfell, Jon had gained some prudish insights on sex. The shame stuck with him. Dany’s voice and touch gentled, stroking the square angle of his jaw. Jon turned eagerly into the contact.

“Do you really think I would shame you for your desires? I want to give you what you want, my sweet boy. What do you want? I will do anything you ask,” she said. A sudden smile brightened Jon’s face. The phrase had become a shorthand between them: I love you. You’re safe. Let me give you pleasure.

“F—Fuck my ass until I beg you to come. Then ride me, scratch me, bite me, mark me as yours. I’ve missed you so much.” The words fell from his mouth in a flood and his voice broke on the last word. Tears flooded her eyes.

“Come here,” Dany said, pulling him up to embrace him.

Their exhaled sighs were soul-deep with relief. Jon clung to her, crushing her to his chest. The cadence of his ragged breathing was almost sobbing. How much horror and pain and uncertainty had he endured since they parted? Dany held him, relishing the thud of his heartbeat echoed by the throb of his cock against her belly, the sleek warmth of his skin. Jon sighed, his head tipped back in abandon as she stroked his scalp. Dany fisted her hands, pulling a little. Just enough to sting. Jon gasped.

“Kiss me,” she commanded. Jon’s mouth crushed to hers. Artless in its raw hunger, teeth clacked, noses mashed together. Dany thrust her tongue into his mouth, his groan vibrating against her lips. Yes yes yes. He tasted so good. Like wine and Jon. Sweetness and home. Noisy breath rasped through his nostrils as he kissed her, hands tugging her hips flush with his. The leaking tip of his cock dragged against the tender skin above her navel. Dany longed to feel him inside her, filling up the emptiness. She groped back toward control. He needed this. Dany broke the kiss.

“Lie down. Facedown on the bed,” she rasped. Jon’s breath heaved, from excitement, not exertion. Force, he was so beautiful. His curly hair wild around his face, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised, eyes black with lust. He obeyed, perfectly.

Jon’s interest in this aspect of sex had been pulled from him—only when he was flushed with wine and fucked half out of his mind did he dare confess how he wanted her to touch him there, take him.

Jon lay on his elbows and knees, legs spread wide. The candlelight kissed the expanse of pale white skin, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. The broad strength of his muscled shoulders, the graceful line of his spine, and his arse. Fuck, it was perfect. Perfectly round and muscled, dusted the coarse hair. She wanted to bite into it, like a peach.

Dany rummaged in the bedside drawer for lubricant, taking a steadying breath. Impatient, Jon squirmed, rutting his cock against the bedclothes.

“None of that, my sweet boy. Be still,” she said, smacking his arse cheek. A light, stinging blow. The red mark of her hand showed clearly on his skin. He moaned, arching his back toward her.

“Another, Mistress. Please!” he said. Dany obliged. Once, twice more. A shiver raced through Jon, his breathing harsh and irregular. Already, he seemed overwrought, ringing with sexual tension. Dany crooned nonsense endearments in Valyrian to gentle him, kneeling on the bed behind him and curving over his back. She licked and nibbled at his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

“Remember, my love, you must tell me if you want me to slow or stop. What is our word?”

“Weirwood,” he said.

“Good. And your color?”          

“Green, Mistress. So good. You feel so good,” he rasped. Dany petted the line of the scar through the turf of his eyebrow and then around his eye. Jon tilted his head to kiss her inner wrist.

“I’ll make you feel good, my love. Remember to relax. I’ll take care of you. But you must not come until I say. Understand?” she said. Jon nodded. Daenerys allowed herself the pleasure of touching him, gripping the solid heft of his shoulders, kissing down the length of his spine to playfully bite his buttock. The spanking had pinked the skin of his arse and she nuzzled the roughness of his body hair. Coating her fingers in lubricant, she eased her finger down the cleft of his arse. Jon whined and squirmed, spreading his legs wider. Dany gave a pleased murmur, squeezing the ripe weight of his buttock with her free hand. The questing fingertip found his hole and circled it, pausing to dribble more lube.

“Yes, yes, yes, Mistress. Moremoremoremore,” Jon’s words ran together in a needy babble. Dany shuddered, trying to master her own arousal. Was it possible to come untouched? She felt damned close. Jon needed her, so she fought the lure to grind against him and find release. She eased her finger inside the tight ring of muscle. So snug, so hot. First one finger, then two. Forging in until—yes! There it was, a rough little nub that throbbed, greedy for pleasure. She added pressure and Jon sucked in a sharp breath.

“Fuck! Oh fuck yes. Dany. Dany. Dany. My Mistress, my love, my goddess, my wife. Fuck me. Fuck me,” he begged. Holding his hip for balance, she thrust her fingers in a rhythm, each stroke rubbing that spot.

“I’m gonna come. Stop. Stop, Mistress, I’ll come!” Jon howled. Dany pulled out her fingers, bending over Jon’s back to kiss the back of his neck. To ease the ache, Dany rutted her cunt against the sleek strength of his back. Pleasure skittered through her.

“Good. You’re my good boy,” she praised. Jon whined, craning his neck. Dany kissed his mouth, feeling the heat and tension pour off of him. The kiss was messy, desperate.

“More. Please, more,” he pleaded, his breath puffing against her lips.

Daenerys rose back onto her knees and poured more lube. It only took another half a dozen thrusts of her fingers before he was begging to come. She let the pleasure spiral up, then ease off. Over and over while Jon whined and thrashed and cursed beneath her. At last, Dany gripped his hip and pulled, guiding him on to his back. Jon panted open mouthed, his cock gleamed with fluid, flushed an angry red. Dany could no longer resist and licked a long stripe up from the base of his cock, sucking the head to taste the salt of him. Jon uttered a broken moan. The long, graceful muscles of his thighs quivered under her hands. His hands fisted in the bedclothes in an effort to remain still. She could hear the whine of servos in his cybernetic arm as he clenched his fists.

“Well done, my love. Now your reward,” Dany said, straddling his lap and sinking down on his cock. Relishing each exquisite inch. The burn and stretch of his girth. That was all it took. Pleasure detonated inside her head like a bomb. An endless clasping eternity. She sagged down onto his chest, restlessly clenching around him. So good. Fuck, he felt so perfect inside her. Overwrought, Jon desperately kissed any inch of skin he could reach, her neck, her jawline, then her lips. He flexed, arching up into her touch. Dany clambered upright and raked her nails down his chest. Hard enough that raised red lines bloomed on his moon-pale skin. Jon’s lip curled in a snarl.

“Color?” Dany asked as she began to move with slow circles of her hips.

“Green,” Jon spat the word through clenched teeth. Jon held onto his control by his fingertips, all of his strength and will bent on obeying her. The control he offered her was heady. Jon wanted it rough, and Dany was happy to oblige. Bracing the heel of her hand on his chest, she fucked him in fast, deep strokes. Nails savaging his chest, biting crescents into his shoulders. She bent and left a ragged necklace of purple love bites across his chest. Lost in throbbing heart of a storm, each release priming her for a deeper, harder one. Her breath came in soft pants, sweat slicked her skin.

“Come, Jon. Come with me!” she commanded. Jon’s hands gripped her hips, slamming her down on his cock once more. He screamed as his pleasure hit him. In seemingly endless spasms, he jerked and thrashed under her. Dany moaned, her own pleasure piercing her as she felt the spurts of his come. All borders dissolved into limitless infinity. Fused into one perfect whole.  Dany collapsed on his chest, her bones melted in the volcanic aftermath. Dany scrabbled for control when every part of her just wanted to sink down into somnolence beside her husband. In the aftermath, Jon needed her. He felt vulnerable.

Dany cradled his head against her breasts, combing his hair with gentle strokes. Despite the cataclysmic pleasure, Jon clung tight to her. He refused to cry. These rough little breaths were as close as he got.

“You did so well, my love. My good, sweet boy. You pleased me so well. You came so hard for me. I love you. I love you,” she crooned. Bit by bit, the tension singing through Jon eased. Their kisses grew sweeter, lazier. Though, she realized with clench of inner muscle, he was hard again. Jon rolled her beneath him, rocking a little deeper. The storm had passed, his grey eyes were calm, awash with love.

“I missed you too. Every day. Every hour,” Dany said, kissing his chin.

“I’m not done yet, my love. I need more,” Jon growled, nipping at her collarbone. Always careful to leave love bites that could be covered by clothing.

“Give me more,” Dany commanded, hauling him down for another kiss. There was so little time left.