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springdandelixn · 2 years ago

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The Man of Gold and Blue - Bonus Chapter

Summary: Daenerys doesn’t believe in the craft of fortune telling, even believes it to be a farce. But when she meets the man in the psychic’s reading, she struggles to grasp if what she told her was her reality or pure coincidence.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, pretty much fluff

Characters: Jorah Mormont x Daenerys Targaryen (modern au)

A/N: This chapter is pretty much the same as the previous one. It just shows what happens if Daenerys didn’t go back to her place and went home with Jorah. Pretty much an old piece and just posting it here on Tumblr huehue

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs are golden! I hope you guys enjoy. 💛

But she doesn’t end up in her home that night. No. But she did arrive at her apartment building, her eyes staring at the steps as she sat idly inside Jorah’s car.

He didn’t ask her why she wasn’t getting out, nor urged her to do so. Instead, he stayed quiet, the hum of the engine being the only sound filling the small space, Daenerys feeling his eyes locked on her as she in turn kept her eyes out the window.

She knew that if she went back home, the loneliness she felt earlier would finally seep in. She was no longer drunk, nor does she have the means to intoxicate herself once more in order to dull her senses and prevent her from feeling the unwanted seclusion. It’s the reason she went to the bar in the first place and downed all those tequila shots with gusto despite knowing that she can’t handle more than three, for she wanted to forget, wanted to feel elated with the help of the ardent spirits and never succumb into that well of sadness buried deep within her.

“Is something the matter?” Jorah finally broke the ice.

So many things. She wished to respond. Instead, she took a calming breath and turned her head to face him.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” It’s all she said.

No reason.

No explanation.

Just an answer.

And Jorah seemed to have known what she meant for he didn’t question her any further and quietly reached for her hand and pressed it against his lips before he relinquished it back on her thigh and drove out into the night.

That’s how Daenerys now finds herself in Jorah’s place. A house, or more like a small mansion, built at the top of a hill close to the edge of the city where there was more greenery than infrastructure, the fine line where rural and urban meet.

She has a cup of tea in her hand which Jorah freshly made, a drink to help unwind and prepare for the evening, as he said, although the evening has already passed and midnight is closing upon them while she sits on the black, velvet L-couch that’s placed perfectly in front of a fireplace. It’s what she imagined his place would be, the modern kept to a minimum and the structure built with polished wood and furnished with rustic style decors.

The fire licks through the glass of the hearth, its flames performing a seemingly lustrous dance for her that hypnotizes her, almost lulls her, and calms her, enveloping her in warmth along with the cozy atmosphere that Jorah’s house brings.

The temperature rises to a degree when he finally joins her on the couch, his leather jacket gone, hanging at the hook by the front door along with her coat, both of their feet bare, the fuzzy rug underneath tickling her soles, and slides his arm at the back of the couch, his eyes already on her when Daenerys turns to face him.

“Is the tea helping?” He asks and she nods, unsure of what his question entails. But the hot liquid did soothe her, from what, she’s not really sure.

“You have a lovely home.” She comments and moves to turn her head to study the place once more. “You live here all by yourself?”

“Two of my cousins used to share this place with me, even helped decorate it, but they moved out when I got married.” He explains while his eyes roam around the open space. “But now that I am no longer tied to anyone, yes. I live here all by myself.”

“It must get lonely then.” And why wouldn’t it be? Her apartment could probably fit in his living room alone and the loneliness of such space already suffocates her to a degree.

“It does. But I have you to keep me company tonight.” He smiles as his arm moves from the couch, slowly wrapping it around her shoulders which she takes as an invitation and leans closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Earlier, at the bar, you mentioned that someone told you that you would meet me, or rather, someone who has my name.” His words make her freeze in her seat, the memory of her drunken state coming to the forefront of her mind. “What did you mean by that?”

She doesn’t know what to tell him or that she should even tell him the supposed prophecy of the strange woman. She doesn’t believe it, even with all the coincidences happening altogether, the revelation of her past, and the man with such a name crossing her path, she still chooses to consider them as lies. And even if her prediction was true, that Jorah is the one to bring her happiness and mold her into someone better, she refuses to tell him such for she doesn’t know him, knows nothing of him other than information that’s skin deep and would deny him the power to use such knowledge for his personal gain. To take from her and in the end, like what the others have done, leave her once all have been given. Hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s the right Jorah.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she turns to face him before placing the mug on the coffee table in front of them and leaning forward to give herself breathing room before she responds. “I-it’s just like I said.” She stutters. “T-that he would lift m-my sorrows.”

“Why are you unhappy?” He asks.

And it’s those words that suddenly bring out the tears from within, for all the memories she’s kept at bay begin bursting out of her control. The face of her father, full of rage and hatred, her mother and her brothers' eyes devoid of life, abandoning her to a life full of misery and pain. Daario’s indifference and neglect for her struggles and Jon’s impenetrable wall that has continued to push her away.

Nothing in her life has been going the way things are supposed to. No love. No acceptance. Only the pain present and the loneliness continuously looming over her, encasing her and trapping her into a life that she’s succumbed herself into that she struggles to overcome every single day, taking every step to climb out of the dark pit but only slipping down further once she thinks she has a good grasp to pull herself out. Even at work which she thought she could use as a tool to forget, she’s constantly in such a stressful state, and only brings her new problems to face.

“Daenerys—” Jorah’s voice surrounds her and she turns away to wipe her tears, to hide in shame that she’s causing another scene in someone else’s home.

Her name leaves his lips once more but she doesn’t have the strength to face him, all the courage from earlier vanishing and weakness taking its place. But her eyes blink in surprise when Jorah’s face comes into view, seeing him on his knees before her, his hands framing her hips as he looks up at her with those raw blue eyes, how it glows against the lights, making it look like the sea on a hot summer day. She sees no mirth in his face, only worry, his hand slowly reaching up and wiping away the tears that continue to escape her.

“Would you let me?” He asks, Daenerys’ brow knitting together at the vagueness of his question. “Would you let me be the Jorah to take your pain away?”

The question baffles her and makes her look at him with utter curiosity. That it occurs to her that no one has ever looked at her the way that he does at this moment. How gentle he is towards her and attuned to the pain that engulfs her. How the man she’s only met a few hours ago slowly bleeds into her, feeling her soul latching onto his own and onto his words, like a lifeline she never knew she needed.

Her mind takes her back to her thoughts earlier, that he could just be someone who’s using her frailty in order to gain another score on their board. But she sees none of that in him. No hint of playfulness or smugness, the desire to have his way, as most men would have looked upon her. That all she sees is sincerity, someone who indeed desires to console her, to pull her out of the darkness and bring her into the light.

He will raise you and shower you with what you seek, take you as you are, and mold you into something greater.

Taking a deep calming breath, she reaches down and cups his cheek, her breath hitching when he leans against her touch and cradles the hand on his face, his head turning to kiss the inside of her wrist, the same spot the fortune teller held when she told her of her prophecy.

“Yes.” She breathes.

And it’s as if the sun is bursting and giving life to a new world when their lips finally meet, Jorah’s hand cupping the side of her face as he moves his lips against hers, sweet and gentle yet full of determination while her hands find refuge into his hair, her fingers running through his soft golden locks before cupping the base of his neck to pull him more to her, desperately keeping their lips connected. She feels his tongue slip through her mouth and a soft moan escapes her when she meets his in a slow and sensual dance.

With one swift motion, he scoops her off the couch, Daenerys locking her legs around his hips as he blindly walks them through the living room and up the set of stairs, towards the hall of rooms on the floor above.

Their lips only part when he lays her down at the center of a bed with dark sheets, Daenerys blinking when a muted light from her side illuminates the room, which she observes is vast and void of any furniture apart from a solitary desk with several books atop opposite the bed, an ensuite to the side and a floor to ceiling window that shows the lights of the city framed by the lush trees.

Jorah is once more on his knees and Daenerys pushes herself up, leaning her weight against the heels of her hands as she watches him lift one leg at a time, kissing the side of her calf softly then placing another one on the side of her ankles.

A soft moan leaves her when he feels his mouth trail up her legs and to her inner thighs, Daenerys drops herself back on the bed as the skirt of her dress punches up at her waist, his name coming out as a whisper from her lips when he presses his lips against her clothed core, parting her thighs instinctively to welcome the man that wishes to serve her.

“Please—” She almost begs when his finger traces the inseam of her dampening panties, Jorah complying all at once and hooking his fingers to the garter, slipping the garment off her thighs and her legs, the cool air brushing against her heat upon exposure.

He doesn’t wait long and slowly skims the pad of his tongue through her folds, rolling the tip of it against her clit that makes her back arch as the sensations of pleasure and want slowly fill her. She reaches down to tangle her fingers through his hair, pulling him more to her core, her legs hooking onto his shoulders as his hands reach over to grab her waist, pushing his mouth flush against her cunt and wrapping his lips around her clit to suck on it hard like a starved man.

Daenerys feels the heat encase her body as her muscles tighten in delight, her mind going slack as Jorah pushes on with intent on his task, his wondrous mouth and the sensation of his beard tickling against her skin erasing every sadness that was once there and pulling her higher on a pedestal. She then feels his fingertip brushing against her slit, another moan leaving her when he pushes it through her folds, her walls stretching upon the intrusion and clenching around the digit.

He pushes in a second and Daenerys throws her head back against the mattress upon feeling full, her back leaving the bed when he retracts his hand then pushes in once more, twice, thrice, again and again, the steady pace leaving her with nothing but pleasure from his mouth and hand, her soul soaring as the coil within her tightens further and further, the pads of his fingers proding against that sweet spot hidden within.

“Please—” She calls out, her fingers tugging on his locks while her other hand moves lower, her nails digging onto his clothed back and her toes curling as she’s consumed by ecstasy.

With one final thrust of his fingers, the dam within her finally breaks, his name pushing out of her lips in a gasp as her essence flows freely. A growl emanates from the man between her thighs as he laps up her juices, taking everything that she willingly gives as she lays limp and sated on the soft mattress underneath. A whine escapes her when he pulls away but not before leaving a soft kiss at the center of her core and moving to crawl up on the bed, blue eyes shining brightly meeting her amethysts.

His beard is glistening with her desire when she looks upon him with hooded eyes, a smile grazing his lips before he leans down and captures her own, engaging her in a kiss full of passion that she eagerly reciprocates, her arms wrapping around his neck and a mewl eliciting from her throat when she tastes herself on him. Making her realize just how erotic and intimate such an action is.

“I want you, Jorah,” She whispers against his lips, Jorah making to pull away to look at her with eyes full of ardor.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “You know that we don’t have to.”

Oh, how his question brings her to new heights. The choice that he gives her making her heart feel elated that after he’s already taken what she’s given and now consenting to giving him more, he still asks for reassurance instead of forcefully taking what he desires for himself.

She nods her response and makes to sit up from the bed, Jorah kneeling on either side of her thighs as she reaches up to unbutton his shirt, her eyes growing wide when his body underneath the thin fabric is revealed, golden hair scattering his chest and a toned abdomen that makes him look like he’s been sculpted by the gods.

He helps her by sliding his shirt off his shoulders, unbuckling his belt and undoing the zipper of his slacks after, the fabrics meeting the floor when he stands from the bed, leaving him with nothing but the tight boxer shorts that strains from the erection that’s ready to spring free from within.

Daenerys then reaches for the buttons of her dress but stops when his hand takes hold of hers for his fingers to take over the task and release each restraint from its hold, the garment joining his own on the floor when he finishes.

He then leans over and presses his on her shoulder while his hands journey to her back, his fingers unclasping the hooks of her bra and delicately sliding the straps down her arms, dropping it on the floor after.

He pulls his lips away and looks at her like she’s a goddess on earth, the slight hitch of his breath making her insides churn with desire as his hands move to cup her tits and giving each nipple a light peck before he stands upright once more, only to slip the last piece of clothing off his body. Jorah then moves to lie down at the center of the mattress, his hands tenderly taking hold of her waist and pulling her to lay atop him, her chest pressing against his.

Daenerys ends up straddling his hips. His hands running down her back, his eyes never leaving hers as he reaches down to angle his cock against her pussy and then slowly thrusts himself in, Daenerys’ eyes fluttering as her walls stretch from his size, her hands clamping down on his shoulders as she wills herself to relax from the intrusion.

He stays still when he bottoms out, his cock deep inside of her to the hilt, allowing her walls to adjust before pulling back and slowly pushing in once more, his hips moving at a slow pace, his eyes fully intent on hers, Daenerys staring back at him as she slowly moves against him, a moan leaving her lips when she feels him slide deeper and his hands resting on her thigh before giving it a squeeze, his nails biting onto her skin.

They rock against each other, finding their rhythm, Daenerys’ mouth hanging open as she feels the head of his cock poking on that sweet spot of hers once more. She tries to quicken her pace, to add more friction between them, but Jorah saves her the effort by pushing his large hand against the small of her back, his knees bending, heels digging onto the mattress as the pace of his hips gradually increases.

She mumbles his name repeatedly as Jorah’s arms stay wrapped around her, cradling her body protectively, her walls sucking on his cock, clenching against him each time he thrusts in. A low groan then escapes him, the sound making her core grow wetter by the second, enabling him to slide in and out of her effortlessly.

His hand on her thigh then reaches up to cup her face, Jorah leaning up to capture her lips with his, kissing her hard and full of intent that makes her circle her arms around his neck, matching the intensity of his lips then gasping when she feels that familiar pull once more at the pit of her belly.

She can feel herself reaching her limit and she knows that Jorah feels it too, for he rolls them on the bed, her back on the mattress and Jorah on top of her, their lips parting yet their eyes connected as he moves his hips even faster, their moans and groans mixing in the air accompanied by the sound of smacking flesh.

“Jorah—” She moans out his name and tangles her fingers through his hair, her back arching when her muscles tighten deliciously, her hips moving against his as she chases her climax. He buries his face on the crook of her neck, her name coming out muffled against her skin as his hands latch onto her shoulders, plunging deeper into her.

“Don’t hold back, Darling.” He groans and the sound of his voice acts as a trigger, the tension within her snapping, her walls tightening around him, clenching around his cock as she finally finds her release.

She pants heavily and whimpers as Jorah keeps up his pace, their bodies bouncing against the bed from the way he continues to drive himself into her. Then she gasps at the sudden loss of his cock, Jorah pushing himself up with his hand, taking his shaft in the other to finish the deed, an animalistic growl emanating from him when he reaches his peak, white ropes staining his hand and her inner thigh.

His head bows down and presses it once more against her neck, their chest heaving as their heart rate gradually slows, the animosity she felt earlier entirely forgotten as she basks in the presence of the man that’s breathing just as hard as her and whispering sweet nothingness against her skin.

He slowly pulls away and pushes himself up with his hands, his sapphires searching her eyes before giving her a soft smile and leaning down to press a kiss on her lips, his mouth unhurried and sweet, as if savoring the feel of her against him.

But he suddenly pulls away which makes Daenerys blink from the loss, a groan leaving his lips when he stands from the bed and stalks towards his attached bathroom without looking back.

Her heart sinks at the short exchange and the negativity almost immediately surges once more, her mind entertaining the idea that her fears have come true, that Jorah has simply used her for his pleasure and not because of his desire to relieve her from her distress from earlier.

She wills herself not to cry, especially for a man she’s just met, and curls herself small on the bed, growing when she feels his sticky seed smear on her skin, evidence of his lust, of his betrayal.

She closes her eyes when she hears him walk back into the room and silently gasps when she feels his hand takes hold of her ankle, Daenerys looks up at him in confusion when she sees his eyes full of question, his body still naked while he holds up a towelette in his other hand.

“I—”

“Allow me to clean you up, Darling.” He says and Daenerys blinks at the unusual request.

She allows him, slowly parting her legs for him and shivering lightly when he runs the warm damp cloth against her skin, wiping off his essence from her body, leaning down to shower her abdomen with soft kisses, his lips slowly trailing up to the valley of her breasts then ending with a peck on her lips when he finishes, walking back to the bathroom to discard the soiled cloth.

He walks back to the bed and clicks the lamp on the bedside table off, the silver moon in the sky being the only light that fills the darkness of his room. The bed then dips beside her and she feels Jorah’s arms around her once more, wrapping them around her hips as he moves her on top of him, allowing her to rest against his broad chest.

“You’re perfect, Daenerys,” He whispers in the dark as he pulls the blanket over them, his arms securing her to him. “Perfect in every way.” He adds and Daenerys blinks in surprise when his lips pressed against her forehead.

She feels the tears well in her eyes with how gentle Jorah has been treating her since they met. How he looks upon her with eyes full of concern and warmth, and how his touches are full of care, handling her like she’s made out of glass. That it clenches her heart that such a man, a man who barely knows her, would treat her as such. Would make her feel secure and safe in his arms.

So, for the first time in her life, Daenerys basks in the happiness life has bestowed upon her. To allow herself to be consumed by Jorah’s warmth and relish in the feeling of him holding her like she’s the most precious thing on earth. For the first time since that woman gave her the reading that she continuously chooses to doubt, she believes her, believes that her words were nothing but the truth and that the gods have blessed her with someone that would take away her sorrow and bring her to euphoria.

Her body aches when she wakes up and yet instead of a frown, there’s a smile playing on her lips. The memories from the night before flood her mind as she slowly opens her eyes to greet the morning. There’s even the aroma of coffee, mixed with what she thinks is bacon wafting into the air, making it known to her that Jorah is no longer in bed and busying himself in his kitchen below.

She stretches her arms and groans when she feels her back pop, her eyes scanning the room, a giggle leaving her lips when she sees their discarded clothes no longer on the floor but folded and placed neatly on top of the bed.

Daenerys takes the liberty of using the bathroom attached to Jorah’s bedroom, washing her face and running her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame her mane to make herself look proper and pristine for the man that has done nothing but put a smile on her face.

Donning on the dark green robe hanging on the side of the door, she silently stalks down the stairs and to the kitchen, wanting to surprise Jorah if he’s busy on the stove but stops when she hears voices coming from the living room. But what takes her by surprise is not Jorah’s voice but the voice of the one he’s talking to. The timbre all too familiar for she’s heard that voice every single day.

“Daenerys?” She hears her name being called and freezes on the stairs when she sees him, her boss, Tyrion Lannister, sitting on Jorah’s couch with his eyes glued to her.

“You know her?” Jorah suddenly asks, Daenerys moving to face him before turning her eyes back to the shorter man. “You know each other?”

“Good Lord, things just got very interesting.” Tyrion chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips, and turns his head to face Jorah, whose eyes never left her.

“What are you talking about, Lannister?” Jorah groans and Daenerys can’t help but frown at the awkward turn the morning has taken.

“Daenerys works for me, Mormont. As a matter of fact, she’s the one who made that presentation you’ve been studying for the past weeks.” Tyrion laughs, his hand gesturing to the man in front of him. “I didn’t know you were seeing each other, I could have asked her to convince you in giving me an answer sooner.” Her boss’ eyes land on her once more, his hand extending in her direction as he beckons her over. “Why don’t you join us, my dear? Then you can explain to Mormont here why investing in our project would be worth it.”

She releases a sigh and slowly walks down the stairs, feeling anxious with her state of undress, pulling the robe tighter around her body as she makes her way to the open space and takes a seat on the couch far away from both men.

“Go on, why don’t you pitch him the—”

“She’s not here to work, Tyrion.” Jorah groans and stands from his seat, grabbing the throw blanket from behind Tyrion and unfolding it before he places it over her shoulders. “You feeling okay, Darling? I’m sorry you had to wake up to this.” He says, placing a hand on her shoulder before turning to Tyrion who’s grinning from ear to ear. “And I believe Tyrion was just about to leave.”

“Leave? But I just got—”

“Goodbye, Tyrion,” Jorah says with finality as he stands in front of Daenerys, blocking Tyrion from seeing her in such a state. “I’ll get back to you within the week with my answer.”

“And it better be a good one,” Tyrion grumbles as he gets off the couch and makes his way to the front door, Jorah following him and closing the barrier, the lock turning in place.

She couldn’t believe the coincidence of it all. That Jorah was a prospective investor in her company’s project. That it was her company that he was talking about last night at the bar. She didn’t even suspect Jaime and Tyrion to be brothers if it weren’t for his last name, but she finally realizes that she never got Jaime’s last name. Nor Jorah’s.

She looks up at Jorah when he returns, his eyes once more full of concern when he looks at her.

“I’m really sorry, Darling. I should have left a note saying that I have a visitor.” He says with a frown before his eyes roll. “Though his visit was unexpected.”

“It’s okay,” She responds and fiddles with her fingers underneath the blanket. “I didn’t know that it was our project you were talking about last night.” A frown then forms on her lips that such a decision was now subtly thrown on her shoulders; that because she spent the night with him and her boss saw her the morning after, he may be expecting her to convince Jorah into funding their project. And that if Jorah declines, the blame may be thrown at her for not persuading him further.

She fidgets and looks down at the floor, feeling the unwanted burden weigh down on her. “So, uh—the app mainly focuses on making people’s lives easier. That it could connect to any devices connected on your phone—”

“Daenerys, you don’t have to.” Jorah stops her and crouches down to meet her eyes. “I’ve already decided before I even met you.” He smiles and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But Mr. Lannister—”

“Tyrion is just being a little pushy, and frankly, I like giving him a chase.” He chuckles and slowly peels the blanket off her body, taking both her hands in his and pressing a kiss on her knuckles. “But now that I know you’re the one handling this project, it gives me peace of mind knowing that I made the right decision.” He smiles and leans over to press a kiss on her lips, a soft smile forming on hers from his praise. “Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”

If someone told her two years ago that she would indeed fall in love with the unknown man in the woman wearing a blood-red dress’ prophecy, she would have laughed at their face and gone on her merry way.

But as she looks around the living room and sees the portrait of her and Jorah hanging over the fireplace, she would thank that person, probably even kiss them with sheer happiness for, ever since meeting Jorah and having that awkward and embarrassing encounter with him at the bar, she’s known nothing but that: happiness. And if she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s reached the best version of herself and continued to stay in such a state because of him.

How she was able to conquer the demons of her past with him continuously showering her with love and adoration, that he would hold her when the darkness and pain take over, his arms of warmth and whispers of comfort pulling them away and prying their hold from her, replacing it with his undying devotion.

It makes her laugh now that she’s been such a hypocrite about the readings of the woman, how aghast and angry she was for her to impose that a man would come and take away her pain, that she even needed a man to do such thing for her. But she now realizes that it’s no ordinary man she needed to help lift her sorrows and pain, but the one sitting on his armchair, a mug of coffee in hand with his eyes glued to the screen of his tablet, reading the survey results that Tyrion sent him to review on the latest breakthrough for their app.

Walking over to where Jorah sits, Daenerys reaches down to grab the mug and the device from his hands, Jorah looking up at her in surprise as she places it on the coffee table, a smile gracing his lips when she curls up on his lap with her face resting against his neck.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He whispers as he wraps his arms around her tight, holding her to him. “Something bothering you?”

“I’m just nervous about meeting your family.” She mumbles against his neck before moving her head to meet his eyes. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Of course, they’ll like you.” Jorah chuckles and reaches up to cup her face. “Aunt Maege is excited to meet you, all of them are.”

“Are you sure?”

“You know that I would never lie to you, Darling.” He says softly, pressing a light kiss on her forehead. “I know that my aunt and cousins would welcome you into the family, would treat you as our own, and I know my parents would too if they were still with us.”

After Jorah told his family about Daenerys, they have done nothing but bother him into bringing her back to Bear Island for them to meet. They even proposed to visit London instead, if Jorah, in their words, continued to hide her from them, to which Daenerys immediately declined, wanting the both of them to visit instead, mainly because she wanted to see where Jorah grew up and experience the life he’s had before moving to the mainland.

She’s been nervous about meeting them, feeling anxious and scared that his family would never accept her, that she would relive once more the trauma that her father has caused her for she wasn’t sure if Jorah would still want to be with her if his family rejects her.

But his words of assurance somewhat alleviate her fears. For it’s true, there’s no reason for him to lie to her, to give her false hope about something that he knows is important to her. Because even if she doesn’t say it aloud, she knows that he can sense her distress, that she wants to be liked and hopefully loved by the people who love him and that she may find her own family with them, a family she's never had.

“Okay,” She breathes and gives him a soft smile, leaning over to place a chaste kiss against his lips. “Are you ready to go? How far is Bear Island from Edinburgh anyway?”

“It’s a ferry away but we can leave later in the afternoon.” Jorah’s voice drops an octave as he says those words, Daenerys’ breath hitching when she feels his hand run up her thigh and stop at her ass, giving the cheek a hard squeeze, hunger suddenly surrounding the blues of his eyes. “I want you all to myself before my cousins smother you and keep us apart.” He whispers and moves her to straddle his lap, his hands running up the sides of her body before pulling her down into a heated kiss.

#jorah mormont #daenerys targaryen #jorah x daenerys #jorah x dany #Jorleesi #Jorleesi AU #game of thrones au #the man of gold and blue #coconut bun stories

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