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springdandelixn · 2 years ago

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Stormborn

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41952342/chapters/106688625

Jorah x Daenerys

Summary: In the midst of the storm, something is born.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming

Note: This story is part of my Jorleesi Smut Series: Eonian. Stories included in this series may or may not be connected with each other unless stated otherwise.

“Over there, Khaleesi,” Jorah says with urgency. He wraps an arm around his queen’s waist while his other hand rests on the pommel of Heartsbane as he guides her off the path they were walking and towards the small woodcutter’s cottage sitting a few feet deep from the edge of the forest.

He ushers her in as soon as he pushes open the door. His eyes survey the cramped space in an instant for any firewood that could have been left laying around by the owner when relief floods his senses upon seeing a pile sitting in the corner, striding to it almost immediately, intent on building a fire to warm his queen.

But he curses under his breath when he sees notices them be damp, Jorah already knowing it's from the cold that continues to seep in through the wooden walls. They wouldn’t be good enough to start a fire, and even if he attempts in doing so, all his efforts will be for naught.

“Jorah—” He hears Daenerys call to him, her teeth chattering and her body shivering when he turns to face her. The door of the cottage was still wide open, allowing the winds to come through.

Quickly walking towards her, he shuts the door closed and takes his queen gently by the hand. He sits her down on the lone mattress on the other side of the shack. Taking both of her small hands in his gloved ones, he presses them to his mouth and blows out hot air to her skin, trying his best to warm her up.

He knew he shouldn’t have given in to his queen’s demands to walk through the forest, especially without any guards or even Grey Worm in tow. He already noticed the dark clouds from the distance as they left the Keep, even heard the smallfolk chatter about a storm brewing as they passed them along the path. But still, he turned a blind eye, seeing how his queen looked happy to be relieved of her royal duties, to roam freely without judgment or fear in the northernmost island of the seven kingdoms.

Even so, he should have suggested turning back earlier. Should have been adamant about it too. To make their way to safety before the first cloud reached Bear Island. That a short midday walk would have sufficed yet each time he tells her to head back, she gives him that look they both know he cannot resist and walks on with her arm around his, deeper into the forest and farther away from the Keep, missing the danger that was fast approaching.

And now, they’re trapped in a small cottage with his queen freezing and surprisingly, himself too. How he curses the years he’s spent in exile in the East, causing him to be used to the heat and sensitive to colder climates.

He continues to blow on her hands, pressing them against her cheeks as he puts his in his effort to keep the heat within her body. But seeing the way she continues to shiver, it’s useless to push on. Dragons hate the cold. He thinks to himself and kneels upright upon the mattress to unclasp the pin that holds his bear fur cloak to his body. He drapes it around her shoulders and folds her within, glad for their size difference as the cloak almost swallows her whole when he cocoons her in it.

“Is that better, Khaleesi?” He asks.

She simply nods, a small smile forming on her lips and then on his as he watches her nuzzle her face against the fur. The pink in her cheeks and nose grows deeper, and he asks himself if it’s because she’s blushing or because of the cold. He chooses the latter.

Once he notices Daenerys’ shaking subsides, Jorah undoes the belt that holds Heartsbane to his hip, leaning the sword against the wall before taking a seat beside her but keeping almost a foot or two between them for the sake of propriety. He turns to look at his queen and watches her sit in silence and bury her face into the cloak. And all of a sudden, it’s like he’s transported back to the Red Waste, the both of them stranded in the blazing desert with her small khalasar, waiting for either help or death to take them. Except now, they’re no longer in the barren wasteland but in the clutches of a winter storm. And it is no longer the heat they are up against but the cold. And freezing to death is not something he wishes to bestow upon his queen, or even himself.

Time passes by in a daze and Jorah finds himself lulling into sleep. His mind is filled with white and gray, fog clouding his vision that he cannot see past his hands when he holds them out in front of him. He’s walking aimlessly, trudging through the knee-deep snow and when he notices that he’s alone, he jolts awake.

He’s freezing. It’s the first thing he thinks of when he opens his eyes, his teeth now chattering uncontrollably and his body shaking almost violently. He feels his face, along with his fingers go stiff, and worry starts to creep into him as the feeling of his toes seems to be dwindling. Fear takes over upon thinking that this is the beginning of his end.

He startles when he feels a weight atop him. Relaxing when he sees that it’s only his queen sitting, or more like straddling, his lap and wrapping the cloak around the both of them. Yet his body stiffens just as quickly when he notices just how close she is to him, his heart beating hard against his chest as his blue eyes meet her amethysts.

“We must keep warm, Ser.” She says in almost a whisper. “And I think this way, our lives would be saved.”

There is a slight shiver in her voice but he couldn’t agree more with her words. That sharing each other’s body heat will be their best chance of survival. It’s what he and the other men did when they went beyond the wall to catch a wight, huddling together against the rocks as they waited for the dead to meet them.

He throws all caution to the wind and wraps his arms around his queen’s waist, pulling her against his chest and burying his face on her shoulder, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when he feels the warmth slowly creep in. Modesty be damned for in this time of peril, they need to stay alive.

They hold each other for a long while, her arms around his neck and her face pressed against the side of his head while his own finds the crook of her neck, breathing in her fragrance of lemons and lavender hidden within the scent of snow and pines, and allowing himself to bask in the warmth that surrounds them. But a low groan unexpectedly erupts from his throat, his body shivering, no longer from the cold, but from the way he feels Daenerys roll her hips against his, feeling his shaft slowly harden underneath his breeches from her movements.

“Khaleesi,” It comes out as a choke as he tries to keep her still, his hands tightening their hold on her hips to stop her yet his attempt is a lost cause when she only presses herself down on him harder, another groan leaving him when his cock twitches at the pressure. “What are you—”

She presses her lips against his, preventing him from speaking further. His hands only grasp her sides harder with his eyes blowing wide from what his queen is doing to him. Unbelieving of what’s happening at the moment. If he’s still dreaming but he knows not if he wants to be awakened.

“We have to stay warm, my bear.” She whispers the words once more against his mouth when she breaks the kiss, her hot breath fanning across the scruff of his beard and onto his cheeks, making him realize that he is indeed awake. That his queen blessed him with a kiss. A shiver then runs up his spine when he feels her lips against the apple of his cheek and her hand reaching up to caress the side of his neck. “Keep me warm,” It comes out as a plea and it burns something within him to hear her beg for him. “Please.”

And it’s as if something within him snaps, something that compels him to do as she asks, that all thoughts of wariness leave his mind, allowing himself to grab her face and pull her down to crash his lips against hers. His kiss eager and wanting, yearning for the affections of the woman who meets his passion, a hand moving down to run it along the curve of her side and pulling her flush against his chest.

His head tilts up to keep their lips together, his mouth devouring hers as she raises herself on her knees, her hands grabbing the skirts of her winter dress and bunching it up to her waist. Jorah grabs hold of the glove on his hand and tosses the article to the ground, his warm hand running up the bare thigh of his queen, rough and calloused hand feeling her smooth skin before resting it against her arse and giving it a hard squeeze.

Jorah tilts his head back when she pulls away from the kiss, groaning as he feels her lips rest upon his neck, latching her teeth against a patch of skin before sucking on it, making him squeeze her arse harder. His hand then moves between their bodies, running it down to cup her mound through her small clothes and feeling her curls tickle his palm before finding her sacred pearl and rolling his finger against it through the flimsy fabric.

She moans on his skin and it only pushes him to move his hand faster, moving the fabric to the side and groaning from the heat that her cunt emits and the slick pooling at the apex of her thighs staining his fingers. And slowly, his other hand reaches for the back of her head, pulling her away from his neck only to have her face him, watching her eyes roll back and her mouth hanging open when he slips two fingers past her folds.

Oh, how she gasps his name makes the fire in him burn brighter, delighting with how his queen come undone before him and all because of his doing. All because of him. Not Drogo. Not Daario. Not Jon or any of the noble lords that seek her hand, but him. Her knight. Her sworn sword. Her bear.

He thrusts them deep and urges his queen to keep her eyes on him, pressing their foreheads together as he fucks her with his fingers, sliding them in and out of her with ease from the slick that continues to flow from her cunt. She begs once more, her eyes pleading as she looks on, her hand reaching up to cup his face as she pulls them once more into a kiss.

Her hand then slides down between them, plucking on the strings of his breeches and Jorah quickly pulls his fingers out of her cunt, slipping them past his lips, humming as he finally gets a taste of her sweet sweet nectar, savoring her flavor before moving to stand on his knees, Daenerys sliding off his lap and helping her push down his trousers, a groan of relief leaving his lips when his cock springs free from its confines.

She tries to hold him but Jorah doesn’t give her that chance, taking both her hands and having her wrap them around his shoulders before he takes hold of her waist, cradling her and sitting himself down on his hunches to pull her back atop him. He tilts his head tilted back to face his queen and slowly, he feels like a thousand suns have burned him as he sinks her down on his cock, to have her impale herself on him, moans leaving them both as he stretches her walls, loving how her cunt clenches around him.

“Khaleesi!” He chokes out as he sits fully inside of her, keeping himself still and pressing his forehead on her shoulder to calm himself down, not wanting the moment to finish just as it began.

“My bear, please.” She moans into the air and Jorah looks up to face her again, seeing her eyes wide like a doe, the sight making his breath hitch. The sensation of her around him feels so surreal, like a dream, and he starts to think that maybe he has died from the cold and that this is nothing but a fantasy that the gods have bestowed upon him.

But she starts to move, her walls rubbing against his cock as she slowly bounces against him that his thoughts shatter, his mind going blank that he doesn’t think twice any longer about gripping her body tight, a hand on her shoulder and one on her waist as he pulls himself up on his knees and begins to thrust in her at a fast pace. Her moans escape her as strings of beautiful notes, a song she’s made solely for him as he drives himself within.

Her hand comes up to the base of his neck and he groans when he feels her fingers dig into his skin, scratching him, hurting him deliciously. But the act doesn’t deter him, only pushes him further, and urges him to fulfill his task. Hips moving faster and harder, frantic and relentless, a lone thought forming into his mind and that is to please his queen, to do as she bids, to save her from the bloody cold by fucking the heat into her body.

She gasps once more and this time it’s his name, Jorah looks up when Daenerys cups his face and kisses her hard and passionately, tongues and lips in a mash of desperation as she slips hers into his mouth, Jorah moans as his queen tastes him, tastes herself on his tongue that rolls and licks and laps against hers.

He then feels his muscles tighten and he knows that she’s not far off from her peak as well. With the ways her cunt clamps down on his cock with every thrust he makes, sucking him in, pushing, pleading, and desiring him to go deeper, to stretch her further like no man has ever done and it only makes him growl like an animal, like the bear that he truly is, moaning her name in her mouth as he quickens his pace even further.

“Jorah! I��m—” But she never finishes her words. Jorah moves to lay her back against the mangy mattress, the bear cloak forgotten and unneeded for the heat that consumes their body is enough to keep the cold away, the windows steaming from their coupling. Jorah grabs hold of her thigh and wraps it around his waist, his arm around her shoulder as he tries to hold her down, angling himself to plunge his cock deeper within, to press against that sacred spot she keeps hidden.

“For me, Khaleesi.” He doesn’t recognize his voice when he begs for her release, his eyes boring into hers, drowning in the lilac pools as he keeps up his pace. “For me,” He says once more and it’s as if his words have caused something within her to stir, Daenerys grabs hold of his arms tight, gripping his muscles, and her cunt squeezing his cock then Jorah feels her essence coat him in a warm embrace.

He doesn’t hold back now, his teeth clenching as he feels the muscles of his abdomen constrict, the familiar pull swirling in him that he snaps his hips once more, a final thrust to bury himself deep into her core that he stills and growls out her name into the frigid air, spilling within and filling her with his seed.

He pants heavily as he keeps himself buried in her cunt, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he tries to steady his heart and his breathing. Her hand caresses the back of his head, fingers running through his hair before taking hold of his chin and tugging it up, looking into her eyes as she makes him face her.

“Thank you, my bear.” She whispers and there’s a small smile painting on his face.

The wind continues to howl and he feels the strength of the storm beyond the cabin, but he thinks none of it. Ignores the peril that awaits them from within the cabin, he has everything that he needs and he knows that his queen has everything she needs in him.

Jorah keeps his arms around his queen as she lays atop him, the cloak serving as a warm blanket over their bodies while her cunt remains wrapped around his cock.

It was her very request that has brought them in such a position, and Jorah, although hesitating for a while gave in and kept himself nestled within her. But such gesture has proven to be both torture and pleasure for when the cold makes itself known again, she’d roll her hips against his, bringing his cock to attention for her to move against once more, taking and taking from him everything and with him being the devoted knight that he is, giving and giving everything of him.

Hours passed before Grey Worm found them holed up in the cabin. The Unsullied General says nothing upon seeing their state on the dingy bed and gives them the privacy to right themselves before leaving the place that has served as their protection from the storm.

The rest of the small band of Unsullied line up the horses they’ve brought for their queen in her sworn sword, Jorah carefully helping Daenerys up on the mare and making sure that the cloak he’s worn on her stays on her shoulders on their way back to Mormont Keep. He turns to make his way to the horse provided for him when he stops upon hearing his queen call his name.

“Will you ride with me, Ser?” She asks, Jorah blinking at her request before giving her a nod and mounting himself on her mare, sitting comfortably behind her.

He stays quiet on their way back, his mind flitting to their unexpected coupling in the cabin. And the thought pains Jorah that such a thing shall never happen again. That she only needed his body in order for her to survive. And who is he to complain? His queen has given him so much more than he expected. Her forgiveness. A place at her side as she rules the seven kingdoms. And he’s happy to be content with what they have, with what she has to offer him.

But his thoughts leave him when Daenerys turns in her seat, the mare whining from her sudden movement that it causes them to stop the trek. He looks at her and blinks when she takes the cloak from her shoulders and messily wraps it around his as well, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he takes the fabric and fixes it upon him. His heart blooms with warmth when she wraps the tails of the fur around her, cocooning the both of them snuggly.

“Is everything alright, Khaleesi?” He asks softly before tapping his boot against the side of the mare, urging for the beast to push on.

She nods before turning her head to face him, a smile on her lips. “I just wanted to keep my love warm as well.” She says.

Her words leave him stunned that, it takes the voice of Grey Worm to alert him of the way he was leading his horse to bring him back to the present. Her love. Him? He can’t believe it. Is this all to be true? Yet the way his queen tucks her head against the crook of his neck makes it seem so that he leans down to push his luck and presses a light kiss to her temple, his heart growing full from the way she sighs and leans against him.

He rests his head against her hair all the way back to the Keep and it makes him think what a force of nature his queen, his love, truly is. Similar to how she was born, her love for him has been made known in the midst of a storm.

#jorah mormont #Ser Jorah Mormont #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #Jorleesi #Jorah x Daenerys #Jorah x Dany #dany x jorah #Jorleesi AU #game of thrones #smut fic #eonian series #coconut bun stories

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springdandelixn · 2 years ago

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The Yellow Shirt

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42759351

Alpha!Jorah x Omega!Daenerys

Summary: Jorah searches their chambers for his favorite yellow shirt only to find it somewhere unexpected.

Warnings: nothing really. All fluff

As always, your comments and likes are highly appreciated though re-blogging would help my story flourish better. I hope you guys enjoy this little piece! 💛

He cannot find it.

Jorah has searched almost everywhere in his chambers for his favored shirt, the yellow tunic he’s worn since his time at the red waste which has brought him good fortune since then.

He’s looked in the chest sitting at the foot of the bed and it surprises him even further that more of his clothes have gone missing.

He growls low in frustration at the thought of a thief entering his chambers, the chambers he shares with his queen yet it baffles him just the same for he’s not scented anyone in the room, other than him and Daenerys. But a beta could be the culprit and he makes a mental note to consult Grey Worm about adding guards in the castle.

If a thief truly is among them, and they’ve got plans to hurt his queen, his omega, then he shall have no choice but to bestow upon them a just punishment.

“Ser Jorah,” Reynald, his squire, calls behind the door and he slips on the shirt he’s slept in that night and opens the wooden barrier to meet the boy. “Our queen requests your presence in the throne room.” He says politely, eyes cast down to the floor. “She’s to entertain the smallfolk's request for an audience.”

“I shall be there soon.” He simply says and closes the door as his squire leaves.

This shall make do. He says to himself, looking down at his nightshirt and tying the strings closed before putting on his armor and fastening the gold cloak on his shoulders. The dilemma of the unknown thief shall be dealt with later.

As he picks up Heartsbane and ties it around his hip, his eyes catch sight of a pile at the other side of the bed, pillows and a fur quilt nestled at the corner that his eyes open wide when he sees his clothes strewn on the ground.

“Seven hells!” He grunts and walks towards the small mound but stops when he’s hit by the scent of Daenerys. He observes the burrow and tries to remember what it could mean when the corners of his mouth lift, his knees bending to a crouch, picking up an article of clothing and pressing it against his nose.

Could she be nesting? He thinks and the feeling slowly warms his heart at the possibility of it.

“Seven hells.”

“A share of our harvest, my queen.” Jorah watches from Daenerys’ side as the elderly man bends his knee at the steps of the throne, laying down a basket of crops and a sack of grain on the pavement. “For your table.”

“Thank you,” Daenerys says with a genuine smile and Jorah nods his head at the servants waiting at the side, the women taking the gifts and stowing them away in the kitchen.

He listens to what the man is saying, thanking their queen for her guidance and generosity that has made his crops prosperous in the year. How he wanted to give back to the person that has saved the city and he cannot help but smile and be proud of the changes she’s done to the capital.

Another, a woman, with two boys, one a child and the other older, steps forward. They’re of age to present and Jorah’s nose flairs when he senses one of them to be an alpha. The three of them bowed in respect before laying down what looks to be a small chest of children’s toys.

“My sons have taken a liking to carve, your grace.” The woman speaks. “And they’ve made you these pieces for the future heir of the throne.” Her eyes then land on him, a smile on her lips, and Jorah fights the urge to look at her in shock, choosing to nod instead in acknowledgment.

“Will you take them closer?” Daenerys asks and by instinct, Jorah steps closer to her, his hand resting on the back of the iron throne as the boys climb the steps.

“Only the younger one.” Jorah intones strongly and the woman nods at his words, pulling back her older son and urging for the younger to bring her their gift.

He senses Daenerys looking up at him but he keeps his eyes trained on the boy as he lays down the box at her feet. He observes the gifts, his eyes blinking in wonder at the craftsmanship of the wooden toys and a soft smile graces his lips as he recalls his time as a lad, sneaking firewood up his chambers to practice his skills with the knife.

“They are beautiful.” His queen says and the boy smile when she touches his cheek, seeming affectionate to the child. “Send these immediately to my chambers.” She instructs and the servants appear once more, taking the chest away.

The audience leaves and she calls for the second set to come forward when Jorah notices Daenerys fiddling with a cloth on her lap, the color striking and familiar to him that he cannot miss it.

His shirt! The one he’s been looking for since the morning. And realization slowly hits him when he sees her lift the fabric to her cheek, nuzzling against it before setting down at her side yet keeping a grip on it as she greets the row of her subjects that bow at the foot of the throne.

His speculations could be true but it would be a while til he confirms it as another man stands forward and says praises to his queen, Jorah keeping closing and eyeing the yellow fabric on the seat.

It’s midday when they finish, Jorah immediately stands by Daenerys’ side when she stands from the throne, her hand caressing her backside possibly from the ache of sitting still for long periods. He rests a hand on the small of her back and pulls her into an embrace when the doors of the throne room close.

“I shall request more cushions for the throne.” He says and Daenerys releases a small laugh as she rests her cheek against his chest plate.

“I’m fine, my bear.” She hums.

“Omega.” He rarely uses this name as it toes the line of her leadership in the kingdom and his authority over her. But he has to know the truth and Daenerys has always been stubborn despite her devotion to him. “I ask that you tell me the truth.” He says softly and smiles when Daenerys nods at his request, his hand reaching up to cup her face, his gloved thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I saw my clothes at the side of the bed and they smelled strongly of you.”

He sees her eyes grow wide and he keeps his hold on her cheek, not wanting her to look away when she answers him.

“Are you nesting, my love?” He asks. “Are you with child?”

Her eyes cast down briefly before she raises them to meet his once more, a tinge of pink scattering at her cheeks as she says, “Samwell confirmed it last night while you were patrolling the castle.” Her eyes grow wide and she pulls her face away only to rest her cheek once more against his chest plate. “I couldn’t sleep. Something felt wrong and I asked Samwell for an elixir to help. But he asked when my blood last came and he examined me.”

“And?”

“I’ve been with child for two moons.” He hears her smile and Jorah leans down to wrap his arms around his omega, loving the way Daenerys sighs as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. “I wanted to tell you when you came back but Missandei woke me up and you were asleep.”

Oh, how elated Jorah feels. A child! He’s to be a father after such a long time. To have a child with the woman he loves, the woman he’s devoted to and he can’t wait to see her grow round and plump, to caress the babe within her womb and protect it, them, from any harm.

“Are you happy?” Daenerys whispers against his neck and Jorah presses a kiss on the junction between her shoulder and neck, where his mark sits for all to see and witness that she is his is enough of an answer he gives.

He watches Daenerys peruse the gifts she’s received for the day, her hands running through fabrics and a dress made by a seamstress in the city that she presses against her frame with a smile.

He takes off his boots and his armor, sitting them at the table at the side of their chambers and draping his cloak on the chair where he sets down Heartsbane and leaving himself with his nightshirt and breeches.

As he makes to climb into bed, tired from the activities of the day, his eyes catch wind of Daenerys holding out the fabric from earlier to him and he lets out a hearty chuckle before taking it from her hold and pressing it against his chest.

The joy on her face is enough to warrant him a wide smile, handing her back the cloth and watching her set it on the nest she’s fixing at the side of her bed.

“Do you plan on sleeping there tonight, my love?” He asks.

And Daenerys gives him a knowing look as she settles herself on the ground cushioned by the quilt and one of his pillows. “Do you not plan to sleep here, my bear?” She inquires back.

Jorah laughs once more, moving the bed aside to give himself room, blowing out the candles in their chambers before joining her in the nest, his arms wrapping around her frame as she covers them in the quilt and nuzzles her face against his chest.

#jorah mormont #Ser Jorah Mormont #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #jorleesi #Jorleesi AU #Fluffy Jorleesi #alpha/beta/omega verse #omegaverse #jorah x daenerys #jorah x dany #game of thrones #game of thrones au #coconut bun stories

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