#thank you so much this got me through my writer’s block!

[lady-phasma]

Can you do a daemon cockwarming scene?

Love your books btw

Thank you so much anon! If you were talking about my books in my Aemond cockwarming fic I always love coming up with fun titles!

NSFW - 18+ (warning is in the ask)

A/N: Kepa means father and uncle so here it is used more like “Daddy” than indicating any familial connection unless that’s how you choose to read this pair.

my gif

The rain hammered against the window glass. It was a constant hum behind the click-click pause, click-click pause of Daemon’s pacing in your chambers. His boot heels on the floor were sharp and beginning to annoy you. 

“My Prince?” you asked and caught him mid-stride, cutting a click short. You didn’t look up at him from your seat. You heard him grunt in acknowledgment. Mm. 

“Are you well, My Prince?” Your hands stilled in your lap. You carefully tucked the needle into the cloth stretched on the hoop. You laid it gently on your lap and rested your hands on it. Then you looked up toward the windows where Daemon had been pacing. 

“I feel fine,” he spat out the word but without directing it at you. “It’s being trapped in this cunting castle which isn’t fine. The storms are too great for flying.” He paused and turned to look at you. “The rain has trapped me here with you, my lady, yet you are quite content.” He took a few steps toward the sofa where you sat. 

“I should leave you to your…” he glanced down at your hands.

“Oh, embroidery,” you replied with a small, proud smile on your face. “A present for the newborn of a Baratheon Lady at court.” You held up the completed portion of a stag’s head. 

“Mm-hmm. Well I would leave you to it, only…. I have nothing to do. I have no obligations today and had hoped to fly Caraxes.” You watched him step to the end of the sofa and wilt into the seat. He slumped against the back, hair sprawling as much as his arms and legs. He groaned and sighed. You couldn’t take your eyes off his neck as he leaned his head back. His eyes had closed so you let yours linger over the curve of his throat and the ridge of it as he swallowed. You pressed your thighs together in a vain attempt to quell the heat that began to rise between them. 

“Might I offer some suggestions?” you asked gently. You laid the needlework on the arm of the sofa and turned toward him, knees still pressed tightly together. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you without raising his head. 

“We could visit the library. I would think there are many books there which might hold your attention,” you continued. He only grunted. “Or perhaps view the new tapestries.” This suggestion brought forth a small snort of laughter.

“Well, then, the stables or Dragonpit? You could occupy yourself with repairing your saddle; though you have people who could do that for you. It would be something…” your voice trailed off. 

There was a drawn out moment of silence before he closed his eyes again. Then he sat up, legs still akimbo. He looked at you. His violet eyes glinting in the fire light. You felt yourself blush and found you had begun to fidget. You recognized that mischievous smirk. 

Daemon often got this look on his face. It never failed to make you blush and squirm. It was inevitably followed by some unseemly desire he had. You were a lady after all, such things should make you blush. However, Daemon’s charm, arrogance, and handsomeness always, would always, break through the remaining vestiges of your concern for impropriety.

“Come here, mērītsos,” he leaned toward you, reaching for your waist. Little one. He knew exactly what the pet name did to you. You didn’t sigh loudly but enough that you knew he had seen your chest fall. His fingers slipped around your back and you let him guide you. You half-stood to shift next to him. When you did he moved swiftly and grabbed your hips with both hands. You yelped from the insinuation as much as the surprise. He sat you on his lap and you immediately squirmed to get comfortable, feeling as though you might surely fall off. You clutched at the arm of the sofa for balance. 

“That won’t do,” he half-whispered behind you. “Here, let me help you, my lady.” With a motion that would have been awkward for a man without his strength he lifted your hips, placing you almost on his knees and slid himself into a more prone position. You felt his hands moving behind you. 

“Daemon, what… what are you up to?” you asked with an amused tone. You enjoyed his surprises, so you didn’t turn around when you asked. 

“Entertaining myself in this damnable weather.”

“I do hope you find it incredibly entertaining, as it seems that it might be an inconvenience for me.”

“Oh, of that I am sure, my lady,” his sly and suggestive words drawled out like honey. Before you could retort, his hands were on you again. He lifted your skirts and you felt your cunt become hot and lightning shot from your core to your hardening nipples. He had not yet touched your bare skin. You whined his name when his hand brushed the inside of your thigh. He chuckled softly behind you.

“Stand for me, mērītsos.” You did. He continued to slide his hand up your dress, finding your undergarments. His other hand rucked the rest of your skirts up to your hips as he moved to pull your smallclothes down. You stepped out of them and immediately he put both his hands on your hips. 

He lifted you bodily back into his lap. Your bunched skirts between your hips and his stomach made it impossible for you to lean back. However, they did not obstruct his hard cock pressed against your ass. You groaned. He laughed. 

“My entertainment,” he replied.

He moved his hips slightly, distributing your weight. Your mind was nearly blank from your desire. You would let him do whatever he wished. You hoped the rain might never stop. The anticipation of what lay ahead increased your wetness and you briefly thought of the slickness against the leather of his pants. Before that thought was fully formed, Daemon slid his hand around between your thighs and stroked his fingers up your slit, expertly missing your now-throbbing clit. You whined again. 

“So very wet for me, mērītsos. Yet you don’t know how I plan to keep myself entertained…” he trailed off. He leaned forward and grazed his open mouth against the sensitive skin at the slope of your neck and shoulder. You tried not to arch your back as his teeth played at biting you. He felt your wetness one more time then abruptly pulled his hand away. 

“Retrieve your… what you were working on, needlepoint?” He didn’t explain but you knew to lean and grab it from the arm of the sofa. When you straightened up he sat forward enough to hover his lips near your ear. He kissed the lobe softly.

“Now, you’re going to sit here and continue your work and I’m going to watch you or… not. But you aren’t to move. You’re going to keep my cock warm in my tight, wet cunt.” He drew out the words in a way that made you shiver. 

Before you could do anything but nod he gently lifted your hips and guided you to hover a moment while he reached between you. He slid his cock through your dripping folds; then, unceremoniously, he slid into you. He pulled you back down onto his lap. He was fully inside you with one stroke. The guttural noise you made almost embarrassed you. You started to roll your hips but he caught you after the first movement. 

“No.” His voice was stern but gentle. “You will not move.” He leaned back and his cock twitched inside you. Your muscles were clenching around him nearly involuntarily, seeking that which you would not get. You inhaled shakily and steadied yourself with your thighs on his. As you pulled the needle from the fabric, your shoulders relaxed. You could not relax entirely, but you could focus. Behind you, Daemon shifted, reclining a bit. One hand left your hip to begin stroking your back. His fingers brushed against the naked skin at the nape of your neck and down over the lacing of your bodice. He sighed.

“Such lovely entertainment for kepa.” You thought you sensed a grin accompany this compliment. You couldn’t stifle a small whine through your gritted teeth. 

Obediently, you began your embroidery work on the stag, your cunt filled full by Daemon, the rain, thankfully, coming down in harder sheets on the windows. 

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