Duty Can Wait - Daemon Targaryen
Daemon is always distracted by you..
Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader
warnings: slight wax play, slight spit play, breath play, lots and lots of kissing, dom daemon, p in v, commanding daemon, he loves to tell you exactly what to do, he also is obsessed with you, oral fem receiving, they're doing it in an unconventional place again, bed??? i don't know her, it's long and descriptive you might be bored, also not entirely proof read
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He was irritated you could see it. His handsome face was void of expression, staring blankly, his body tense. The council was meeting over something he had not the slightest interest in, in his mind he had far more important things to be doing than discussing the needs of some minor lord. Or, more accurately, a far more important person to get back to.
Under the heavy oak table, his fingers lightly traced the arm of his chair as his mind drifted away from the voices and straight to you. He could still smell the sweet scent of you on his clothes, and he held onto the memory of your sleepy smile when he had forced himself out of bed that morning. His dark eyes drifted across the room until they finally landed on you. In an instant, the tension in his broad shoulders softened. A subtle heat replaced the blank boredom in his gaze. He wasn't listening to the council anymore, he was mapping the curve of your neck, silently calculating exactly how long it would take to clear this room so he could have you all to himself.
He didn't even wait for the minor lord to finish his sputtering sentence.
"Enough," he cut in. His voice was low, but it carried an absolute authority that silenced the room instantly. He stood up, towering over the head of the table. "This council is adjourned. Leave."
There was a brief, stunned pause before chairs scraped hastily against the stone floor. No one dared to question the abrupt dismissal or the dark look on his face. Papers were gathered in a rush, footsteps echoed toward the exit, and within moments, the heavy wooden doors clicked shut.
The vast chamber was suddenly quiet. You were the only two left.
He didn't hesitate. The moment the heavy iron latch fell into place, he was moving toward you. The formal posture he had maintained all morning melted away with every long stride. By the time he stopped in front of you, he was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"I thought they would never leave," he murmured.
He reached out, his large hand gently sweeping a stray lock of hair over your shoulder before his knuckles grazed the side of your neck tracing the exact path he had been mapping with his eyes just moments before. He stepped even closer, invading your space completely as a slow exhale finally left his chest. "Tell me you were just as bored as I was."
"Bored doesn't even begin to cover it," you confessed, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended.
It was the absolute truth. While the minor lord had droned on about taxes and borders, you hadn't absorbed a single word. Your attention had been entirely consumed by the man sitting at the head of the table. You had spent the last hour watching the subtle, irritated clench of his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders, completely distracted by the memory of his heavy warmth tangled in the sheets with you before dawn.
Leaning subtly into his touch, you let the mask of the dutiful attendee fall away completely. You reached up, smoothing your hands over the rich fabric of his tunic to rest flat against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms.
"I spent the last hour watching you sulk in that chair," you told him, your voice low. You backed him up, matching him step for step until the edge of the heavy oak council table hit the back of his thighs. You pressed your hand flat against his chest, easily holding him in place. "You took your sweet time getting rid of them."
A low, rough sound rumbled in his chest, a mix of a groan and a laugh. The terrifying ruler from a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by a man entirely at your mercy. His hands moved to grip your waist, holding you firmly but keeping his touch restrained, waiting for your lead.
"Forgive me," he breathed, his chest heaving under your palm as he stared down at your lips with absolute devotion. "Make it up to me, then. Or punish me for making you wait. I'm yours."
With another deliberate shove, you forced him backward. He didn't resist in the slightest, bracing his hands behind him and lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the table. The heavy wood creaked softly under his solid weight.
Sitting down brought him to your level, forcing this imposing man to tilt his head up just to maintain eye contact with you. Without you having to say a word, his long legs parted instinctively. You didn't hesitate, stepping seamlessly into the space between his thighs.
The shift in power in the room was palpable. His large hands settled on your hips, gripping you firmly enough to anchor you to him, yet keeping his touch entirely reverent. The heat in his dark eyes was scorching, a thrilling contrast to the obedient, breathless way he sat there, entirely surrendered to your control.
"I think I will punish you," you murmured, answering his offer. You trailed your hand slowly from his chest up to the strong column of his neck, feeling his pulse hammer against your fingertips.
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes, dark and hungry. "Then do it," he rasped, his fingers tightening on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere."
You didn't give him another second to speak. Sliding your hand up into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, you gripped it firmly, pulling him forward as you crashed your mouth against his.
It wasn't a sweet or patient kiss. It was possessive and demanding, driven by the same restless energy that had plagued you both all morning. You kissed him with absolute greed, taking exactly what you wanted, pressing into him until his back bowed slightly and he was forced to lean further back onto the table.
A desperate groan vibrated deep in his chest, muffled against your lips. His hands clamped down harder on your hips, his grip tightening as he dragged you flush against him. Even while surrendering to your control, his response was intoxicating. He parted his lips for you instantly, eagerly taking everything you gave while silently begging for more.
He was practically drinking you in, his thumbs digging into your waist. For a man who ruled over lands, councils, and armies, right now he was entirely consumed by you.
Your fingers twisted deeper into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, and with a sharp, deliberate tug, you pulled his head back.
He didn't fight you for a second. Instead, a ragged gasp tore from his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he willingly exposed the strong line of his throat to you. He arched his back, offering himself up entirely, his heavy hands gripping your hips with desperately as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
Breaking the bruising kiss against his mouth, you trailed your lips down the sharp edge of his jaw. He shuddered violently when your mouth found the hot, sensitive skin of his neck. You kissed him there with the same possessive greed, pressing open mouthed kisses against his pulse, scraping your teeth just enough to draw a helpless groan from deep within his chest.
"You're going to drive me mad," he choked out, his voice reduced to a raw whisper.
His chest heaved against yours, his breathing completely shattered. For all his imposing strength and terrifying authority, he was utterly defenseless against you in this moment, his head held back in your grip, his pulse hammering against your lips, completely consumed by the punishment he had begged for.
The sharp scrape of your teeth against his pulse didn't break him, instead it completely shattered the last thread of his restraint.
Suddenly, his hands weren't just resting passively on your hips. His large fingers dug in, forcefully hauling you flush against his body so hard the breath left your lungs.
Before you could react, Daemon stood up from the table, towering over you. His large hand slid from your waist to the back of your neck, and in one powerful motion, he spun you around reversing your positions completely.
"Did you really think you had the final say?" he growled softly, his voice a low rumble against your cheek as he leaned down, his lips hovering mere millimeters from yours.
His fingers tangled in your hair with a dominant grip that perfectly mirrored your own from a moment ago. He tilted your head back, forcing you to look up at him just before he captured your mouth.
The kiss was feral. He took absolute control, kissing you deep, wet, and open-mouthed. There was nothing polite or restrained about it, just the slick heat of his tongue and the messy swapping of spit as he devoured you. You could taste the salt and fire of him, the wet sound of the kiss echoing loudly in the empty council chamber.
He completely overwhelmed you, dominating your mouth with a bruising, desperate rhythm. His other hand slid up your spine, pulling you so tightly against his chest that you could feel every muscle of his tense body. He kissed you with a starving intensity, drinking you in and leaving your lips slick, reminding you without a single word exactly who you were dealing with.
He broke the kiss just enough to let you drag in a ragged breath, but he didn't let you go. His grip in your hair remained strong, keeping your head forcefully tilted back, your lips flushed, wet, and parted.
He stared down at you, his chest heaving against yours. The feral heat in his eyes was absolute, stripping away any remaining illusion that you were still the one in charge.
Without breaking eye contact, his mouth parted, and he let a thick, hot drop of spit fall directly onto your tongue.
The raw intimacy of the act sent a jolt straight down your spine. It was a complete claiming, a filthy heavily dominating reminder of exactly who was in control. He watched your throat work as you swallowed it, the tension in his shoulders shifting into something intensely satisfied as you yielded to the possessive gesture.
A smirk finally curved his lips. He stroked his thumb heavily across your slick bottom lip.
"Mine," he breathed against your mouth, leaning in to capture your lips again. "Don't ever forget it."
He didn't give you a single second to recover. The moment the heavy word left his lips, his mouth crashed down on yours again this time the kiss was entirely suffocating.
Daemon's hand shifted from your hair to firmly grip your jaw, holding your face perfectly still as he sealed his mouth completely, airtight, over yours. He leaned his weight forward, effectively trapping you against the table, and intentionally cut off your air supply. He kissed you deep and hard, dominating your mouth so thoroughly that he refused to let you draw a breath.
The grand council chamber seemed to shrink as your lungs began to ache. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his tunic, your pulse hammering in your ears as the need for oxygen began to blur the edges of your vision. He knew exactly what he was doing, stripping away every ounce of your control until he commanded the very breath in your lungs.
Just as a desperate whimper vibrated in your throat, he pulled back a fraction, not enough to let you breathe, but just enough to hover over your parted lips.
As you instinctively gasped, desperate for air, he let another thick, hot drop of spit fall directly onto your tongue.
The overwhelming mix of oxygen deprivation and raw submission sent a violent shiver through your entire body. Only after you swallowed it did he finally break the seal completely, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to support you as you dragged in a starving breath. He stroked his thumb soothingly across your flushed cheek, his eyes watching you pant against his chest, intensely satisfied by how completely you had unraveled for him.
He finally released his bruising grip on your jaw, letting you drag in a full, shuddering breath, but the heavy tension in the room only spiked. His hands slid down the length of your arms until they settled firmly on your hips. Driven by the lingering frustration of the morning and the taste of you still fresh on his lips, Daemon slid his broad palms up to the fastenings of your gown.
"Too many layers," he growled against your ear, his voice rough and uneven.
With impatient efficiency, his calloused fingers hooked into the fabric, loosening laces and push fabric past your shoulders until the heavy material pooled uselessly at your waist. He pushed it down over your hips in one fluid, aggressive motion, letting it fall to the stone floor with a heavy rustle. The cool chamber air hit your bare skin for only a fraction of a second before the searing heat of his body pressed back in, claiming every inch of you.
With a smooth motion he followed the line of your body, dropping to his knees on the stone floor right in front of you.
The sudden shift left you completely exposed to him. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place, pulling you exactly where he wanted you. Even on his knees, looking up at you, he commanded the room entirely.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, moving with agonizing slowness, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your thighs as he trailed his mouth down your chest and stomach. His hot breath ghosted over your skin with every slow kiss.
A ragged gasp escaped you as his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady. He was taking his time, worshiping and claiming every inch of you on his way down, proving that even from his knees, he was the one in control.
He paused, his hot breath lingering against the bare skin of your stomach. Without taking his eyes off you, he reached blindly up to the heavy oak table above him. His large fingers found what they were looking for, a thick, half-melted pillar candle from the heavy iron candelabra that had illuminated the council meeting.
He brought it down between you, the small, flickering flame casting long, dancing shadows across the sharp, predatory lines of his face.
"Don't move," he commanded softly, the gravelly rumble of his voice leaving no room for disobedience.
He held the thick candle directly over you, tilting it just enough. A single, heavy drop of melted wax gathered at the edge of the wick before finally falling.
It struck the sensitive skin just below your collarbone. The sudden heat elicited a sharp gasp from your lips, your body arching reflexively against his grip. It stung, a sudden, scorching shock that sent a jolt straight to your core before rapidly cooling into a heavy, gripping warmth against your skin.
A pleased smile curled his lips as he felt you tremble. He tilted the candle again.
Another drop landed lower, right on the center of your chest, sending a violent shiver cascading down your spine. His hands held the backs of your thighs in a vice like grip, keeping you steady as you twitched under the overwhelming sensation. The smoky scent of melting wax filled the small space between you, mixing with the heavy heat of his body.
He watched your chest heave, entirely captivated by the way you unraveled at his mercy. Setting the candle gently aside on the stone floor, he leaned in and pressed an open mouthed kiss directly over the cooling wax. His hot, wet tongue soothed the stinging skin as a reward for your submission before he dragged his mouth even lower.
Your fingers tangled tight into the thick hair at the back of his head, taking a firm grip and tugging downward.
He didn't resist. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his chest as he let you drag him lower, his hands sliding down from the backs of your thighs to anchor firmly on your hips. He yielded completely to the pull, tracing a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses past your navel, his hot breath washing over your hypersensitive skin with every inhale.
When he reached your inner thighs, you tugged again, forcing his face flush against your sensitive soaked heat.
The sharp tug on his hair made his eyes flash as he looked up at you from between your legs, his breathing ragged and uneven.
"Impatient," he rasped, his voice a gravelly whisper against your skin. His hands tightened on your hips, digging in as he pressed a deep, lingering kiss to the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Tell me what you want, then. Command me."
You leaned down until your lips hovered inches from his ear, your fingers tightening in his thick blonde hair, holding his head firmly in place.
"I want you to use that mouth and taste me until I can't think. I want you to worship every inch of my body, and I don't want you to stop until I tell you to."
A primal growl dragged from deep in his chest. His jaw clenched tight under your grip, the ravenous hunger in his eyes flaring into something absolute.
"Your word is my law," he rasped.
Without a second of hesitation, he gripped the heavy velvet and silk of his tunic, yanking it up and over his head in one fluid motion and tossing it onto the cold stone floor. The sharp, defined muscle of his chest and broad shoulders gleamed in the dim candlelight, his breathing ragged as he looked back up at you through the golden strands of hair falling into his eyes, completely ready to obey every single word you had just uttered.
The moment your command hung in the air, his large, calloused hands clamped around the backs of your thighs, hauling you flush to the very edge of the heavy oak table. He plunged forward, burying his face completely between your thighs.
A sharp, breathless gasp tore from your throat as his mouth hit your skin. He didn't ease into it, he consumed you with the exact desperate greed you had demanded. The thick cascade of his long blonde hair spilled across your knees and hips, coiling around your fingers as you instinctively dug your hands back into those white locks to anchor him there.
His hot breath washed over your hypersensitive skin a split second before his tongue swept against you with a slick, heavy stroke that sent a shockwave straight through your core. A low, muffled growl vibrated out of his chest, reverberating against your body as he worked his mouth with relentless precision.
He was unyielding, devouring you as if he were a starving man completely out of time. Every slick, deliberate flick of his tongue and every demanding press of his lips tore breathless whimpers from your mouth. He pinned you firmly to the edge of the table, his broad shoulders flexing beneath your touch as he drank you in.
He paused his relentless rhythm for a brief second, resting his cheek against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh just long enough to draw a ragged breath. He looked up at you through the golden curtain of his long hair.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice a breathless whisper that echoed softly in the grand chamber. "So beautiful… so completely perfect for me."
He pressed a hot, lingering kiss to your skin, his hands smoothing up your thighs to hold you tight against him. The fierce, terrifying ruler who had just commanded a room of lords was nowhere to be seen, only a man utterly undone by your presence.
"You take complete control, and you do it so damn well," he murmured against your skin. "My queen. My absolute sovereign. God, you are magnificent."
Every touch was punctuated by low, breathless affirmations, his hot breath washing over your skin with every word.
"Good girl… taking everything you wanted," he growled softly, a deeply satisfied smile curving his lips as he felt your body tremble under his praise. "You rule this room, you rule this kingdom, and you rule me. Every single part of me is yours."
Without taking his eyes off your flushed face and parted lips, he dove back in, his voice continuing to murmur a steady, addictive stream of praises against your body, drowning you in adoration until you couldn't distinguish where his words ended and your own breath began.
Your fingers tightened into the heavy silk of his hair, tugging with just enough sharp intention to tilt his face upward.
"Look at me," you breathed, your voice cutting through the heavy heat of the room with quiet, absolute authority. "I want you looking directly into my eyes while you say it."
He froze, a ragged exhale escaping his chest before he willingly yielded to the pull. He lifted his head exposing the raw, unshielded intensity of his expression. His dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with a feral devotion that made your pulse thunder in your ears.
His breath was short and hot against your skin, but he didn't break eye contact for a fraction of a second.
"You are absolute perfection," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low murmur that vibrated straight through you. "Every command you give… every look you give me… it breaks me down and puts me back together. You own me. Entirely."
His large hands tightened on your waist, anchoring you firmly to the edge of the oak table as if he were trying to pull your soul right out of your chest through that unbroken gaze. The fierce, unyielding ruler was completely gone, replaced by a man utterly spellbound.
"Tell me you see it," he whispered, his eyes searching yours with a desperate, beautiful hunger. "Tell me you see what you do to me, my queen."
Your breath hitched violently in your throat as a wave of pure, overwhelming heat crashed through you, unraveling every last defense you had left. Your composure shattered completely. Your grip in his long blonde hair tightened, your knuckles turning white as a helpless, breathless gasp tore from your lips and your body arched against the edge of the heavy oak table.
He didn't break eye contact for a single second. He watched the exact moment your control broke, his dark eyes flaring with a fierce, possessive triumph as he felt the shuddering tremor run straight through your frame.
"That's it," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated deep in his chest. "Let go for me. I've got you."
Your fingers, still trembling from the rush of your release, found their way back into his hair. This time the sharp, punishing grip softened. You wound the long blonde strands around your hand with a gentle, deliberate tug, drawing him up from his knees until he was standing flush between your thighs, his chest heaving against yours.
He came willingly, rising like a tide to meet you. The fierce, feral hunger in his dark eyes had tempered into a warm, heavy glow of reverence as he looked at you.
"Come here," you murmured softly against the cool air of the room.
You pulled him down that final inch, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted of you. There was no pressure, no battle for control, just a slow, sweet, and lingering press of your lips against his.
He melted into it with a low, contented exhale that brushed over your cheeks. His large, bare arms wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting you slightly so you didn't have to strain, holding you close against his bare chest. His mouth moved against yours with care, tasting you deeply, tasting the lingering heat of his own breath and spit on your lips, worshiping you with affection.
You finally pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead rested against his.
He didn't let the quiet linger for long.
His mouth claimed yours again, crushing down with a sudden, bruising passion that shattered the brief peace between you. The kiss was heavy, deep, and relentless, his tongue sweeping past your parted lips to taste you with a frantic hunger.
You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling frantically back into his hair to pull him even closer. He groaned low in his throat and shifted his weight until he was fully hovering over you.
His large hands slid down your ribs to your hips, his fingers digging in, holding you tight against him as the rhythm of the kiss grew rougher, more demanding. Every stroke of his tongue, every ragged breath shared between your lips, sent jolts of heat coursing through your veins.
With a breathless gasp, you pressed your hands firmly against his broad, bare shoulders and broke the heavy kiss, pulling back just enough to interrupt the rhythm of his mouth.
Before he could reclaim your lips, you leveraged your weight against his chest, your hands moving down to his hips as you forcefully pushed him back. Yielding instantly to your intent, he let himself be rolled onto his back, his heavy frame settling fully onto the cold stone floor.
Now straddling his waist, you looked down at him with dominance. Daemon's eyes burned up at you from the floor, a flash of surprise quickly melting into an intoxicating, dark delight at being pinned beneath you.
"My turn," you whispered down to him, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate line down the center of his bare chest.
A low rumble vibrated from deep in his throat, his large hands reaching up to rest possessively on your thighs, entirely at your mercy once again.
Even with you still straddling his waist, the illusion of your dominance shattered the instant his grip closed around your hips.
"Stay right there," he murmured, his voice low and commanding.
Without releasing his grip on your waist, he slid one hand up the curve of your spine, his large palm spreading flat between your shoulder blades to pull you down onto his chest. He didn't let you dictate the pace, he guided your mouth down to meet his, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive kiss that left no doubt about who was directing every breath, every touch, and every second between you.
He let you sit on top, but it was his hands guiding your hips, his voice issuing commands into your ear, and his strength holding you entirely at his whim.
He flexed his neck, lifting his head just enough to press his lips against the sensitive shell of your ear. His hot breath brushed over your skin a split second before his voice vibrated straight through your core.
"You're going to stay right here on top of me," he whispered, the command low and impossibly heavy with heat. "You're going to keep your hands flat on my chest, and you're going to move only when I tell you to."
To make sure you understood, his other hand slid up your side, his calloused thumb tracing a possessive line along your jaw before tilting your chin up. His dark eyes locked onto yours from below.
"No rush. No taking over," he growled softly, a wicked, triumphant smile playing at the corner of his lips as he felt the shudder run through you. "You want to be up here? Then you follow my lead."
He brought your mouth down to his once more, sealing the instruction with a deep, lingering kiss that left no room for argument.
A shudder ran down your spine at the weight of his voice. Rather than pulling back, you let your weight collapse fully onto his bare chest, your body yielding to the firm press of his hands anchored at your waist and jaw.
You leaned down until your lips brushed the shell of his ear, your warm breath making him tense beneath you.
"Whatever you want," you whispered, your voice a breathless thread of pure surrender. "I'm yours to command."
A growl tore from his chest, his hands tightening instinctively on your hips. Before he could even draw a breath to respond, you shifted your head and captured his lips in a slow kiss.
His eyes fluttered shut as he met your mouth, his long hair pooling around you on as he drank in your surrender, his grip on your waist wavering only to pull you impossibly closer.
He broke the kiss with a breathless groan, his lips reluctantly parting from yours only to trail upward along your cheek.
"Look at what you do to me," he rasped against your skin, his voice ruined and thick with devotion.
His broad, calloused hands slid up from your waist to frame your face, his thumbs gently sweeping over your flushed cheekbones as he pressed a lingering, feather-light kiss to the corner of your eye, then another to your temple.
"So stunning… so breathtakingly perfect," he murmured. Every word was punctuated by the worshipful press of his lips against your skin.
"My queen. My absolute world."
Daemon's hands locked onto your waist, his grip firm and possessive as his head dipped lower. The heat of his breath preceded the searing touch of his tongue, making your chest heave with every ragged breath you drew.
He took his time with you, his mouth lingering over every inch of exposed skin with intensity. A gasp escaped your lips as his mouth enclosed around the peak of your breast, pulling gently and setting a fire blazing straight through your core. He paid agonizingly slow attention to you, trailing hot, wet kisses back and forth across your skin, licking away the shudders that wracked your body before drawing you into his mouth once more.
Your fingers tangled reflexively into his hair, arching your back into his touch as a groan echoed in his chest against yours.
Gently but firmly you tugged on him to interrupt the trail of hot kisses against you.
He yielded instantly lifting his head.
"Look at me," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding.
You drew him up that final inch, your lips capturing his in a kiss that was deep, slow, and utterly consuming.
Your fingers slid down his broad chest and made quick work of the laces on his pants.
Before you could loosen the last stubborn knot, his hands came down over yours. His broad palms covered yours completely, not to push you away, but to take charge of the movement. He guided your fingers with slow pressure, helping you pull the remaining cords loose while keeping his gaze locked on yours.
"Let me," Daemon growled softly. "If you're going to undo me, you're going to do it at my pace."
With one joint, deliberate pull of his hands over yours, the final knot yielded.
Once the last tie fell loose, Daemon didn't pull his hands away. Instead, his broad palms shifted to cover yours, his fingers wrapping firmly around your knuckles to guide your hands beneath the parted fabric. The heat radiating off his bare skin was searing, his body taut and trembling with restrained desire.
"Eyes on me," he commanded softly as he pressed your palms lower, dictating the exact pressure and rhythm himself. His grip over your hands was heavy and unyielding making sure you felt every surge of heat and the full, heavy weight of him.
A low groan rumbled deep in his chest as he moved your hands in slow, deliberate strokes over him, taking complete control of the pace. "Just like that," Daemon rasped, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to stay grounded beneath you. "You wanted to touch me, now feel what you do to me, exactly how I want it."
Every movement was a lesson in control, his hands framing yours to show you precisely what drove him out of his mind while keeping you entirely under his command.
The rhythm between your hands quickened, every stroke measured and deliberate as the heat radiating from him reached a fever pitch. Daemon’s breath came in sharp, broken gasps, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to hold onto the last threads of his composure beneath you.
His strong hands tightened over yours, guiding the pressure with a desperate, heavy urgency. His dark eyes flared open, burning with raw vulnerability and fierce devotion as he looked up into your face.
"Don't stop," he rasped out. "Right there… keep going."
With every rise and fall of your joint touch, the tension in his body coiled impossibly tighter until he finally surrendered to the weight of it. A deep moan tore from his throat as his frame went still beneath yours, his hips lifting slightly into your hands as he reached his peak. His grip on your knuckles held firm, anchoring you to him through every shuddering pulse of his release.
As his breathing began to slow, the daze of his own release cleared from Daemon’s eyes, replaced instantly by a sharp intensity centered entirely on you.
Before you could even draw a full breath, his hands slid from your knuckles to your waist, his grip firm and possessive. In one fluid, powerful movement, he flipped the balance between you, rolling you onto your back against the cold stone and shifting his weight until he hovered completely over you.
"Did you really think I'd let you off that easily?"
His gaze never left yours as he brought his hand to his lips, wetting his fingers, his own release mixing with his saliva in a way that made your mouth water at the sheer sight. There was no hesitation in him, only a raw, unyielding focus that made your chest heave.
"Spread your knees wide," Daemon growled softly, his voice thick with gravel as his hand slid back down over the warm curve of your hip and past your stomach.
When his palm found the heat between your thighs, the friction was immediate and overwhelming. He pressed closer against your slick warmth, first with one finger, then another, the sudden wave of sensation drawing a low, ragged moan from you both.
He set a slow, heavy rhythm, his fingers applying exact pressure that forced a breathless gasp from your lips. His free hand tightened in yours, pinning your wrist firmly beside your head on the rug as he drove you higher with every agonizingly stroke, leaving you completely under his spell.
His fingers slipped away for only a heartbeat, the brief absence making you whine, but before the cool air could even touch you, his weight pressed fully forward. His body settled flush against yours as he guided his heavy, hard member inside you.
A breathless groan broke from his throat as he pushed slowly anchoring his hips tight to yours. His hands slid beneath your back, pulling you flush against him into the full, overwhelming depth of his presence until there was no telling where he ended and you began.
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a slick, open, and utterly consuming kiss. Every press of his lips was deep and breathless, his tongue sliding against yours as he drank you in, leaving no room between your mouths. He kissed you over and over heavy, wet, and relentless, tasting you, sharing every gasping breath, and leaving your lips slick as his mouth claimed yours again and again.
His grip on your hands tightened beside your head, his hips maintaining a deep, frantic pace that matched the desperate rhythm of his.
The final wall broke between you both at once. A ragged groan shuddered deep in his chest against yours as his frame went rigid, his peak hitting him at the exact moment the shattering wave of pleasure swept through you. You arched into him, clinging to his broad shoulders, leaving bright red marks do doubt, as he drove you over the edge, holding you impossibly close while every pulse of release bound you together, his mouth sealing over yours to swallow every shared, breathless cry.
He didn't break contact as the tremors slowly subsided, keeping his heavy weight rested over you, his forehead pressed against yours as your shared breaths mingled in the warm air, his fingers remained laced with yours ina possessive grip.
"Good girl," he rasped, the praise heavy against your skin. "You did so well for me… completely surrendered."
"Ao ñuhon iksā, ñuha rūna," Daemon murmured, the Valyrian words rolling off his tongue in a quiet, rough vibration. "Avy jorrāelan."
(You are mine, my soul… I love you.)
