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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 2 months

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Delicate part.1

Description: As a young knight, Ser Gwayne Hightower journeys to King's Landing to take part in his first tourney. Eager to see his beloved sister Alicent and prove himself to his distant father, Gwayne finds himself enamoured by Alicent's friend.

Part 2

Writer's note: Elizabeth here. I thought I would try my hand at writing a story for the icon that is Gwayne Hightower. The reader/Y/N of the story will be on the asexual spectrum.

Warnings: Female reader/Y/N, but I won't be going into details about their appearance. Team Green sentiments. Positive sentiments towards Alicent (I can't help it, I love her).

The sun shone over King’s Landing, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of salt and spice from the port and markets of Fleabottom across the air, as a young knight rode towards the Red Keep. As the imposing structure of the Red Keep came into view, Ser Gwayne Hightower struggled to fully suppress the trepidation he felt as he approached the entrance and was hailed by two guards.

“Who goes there?”

Pushing his nervousness as a young knight of but ten and seven years aside, he schooled his expression into one conveying the confidence of a knight far beyond his years. Arriving at the King’s stronghold to compete in his first tournament against other knights, not just bannermen of the Hightowers from Oldtown, he attempted to conceal any signs of apprehension from his features.

“You may announce the arrival of Ser Gwayne Hightower, son of the Hand of the King, my good man, and do make haste about it. The journey has been long, and I would benefit from the illustrious hospitality of your King.” He addressed the guards before him, with not a small degree of arrogance, a smirk on his face.

Presenting his patent of nobility, illustrated with the green and black sigil of his House, with a flourish, he nodded respectfully towards the guards as they granted him admittance to the Red Keep. Riding forth with an air of confidence he did not fully feel, an illusion he was no stranger to assuming, he surveyed the vastness of the King’s stronghold. Meeting the gaze of any knight’s he encountered on his progress with a jaunty smirk and nod in their direction, he dismounted from his horse gracefully, before entrusting it to the care of a stable boy, ruffling the boy’s hair as he did so.

His first order of business was to locate his dear sister, who he had not seen for many months now, but who he sorely missed, living so far away from her as he did in his father’s seat in Oldtown.

Gwayne made his way through the Keep, familiar with the route to the courtyard where he expected to find his dear sister, knowing from her letters and his previous visits it to be the place she often sought repose from the pressures of Court.

Striding along the balustrade overhanging the courtyard, he knew he was right when he heard the sweet sound of his sister's laughter, accompanied by that of another's. He promptly increased the pace of his strides in anticipation of their happy reunion after months apart. His Lord father's decision to take Alicent with him to King's Landing, leaving him to preside over their seat in Oldtown, had been a source of pain for them both. Two years her senior, Gwayne doted on his sister, even more so after the untimely death of their beloved mother when Alicent was but ten and twelve years old. Gwayne had always sought to compensate for the loss of their mother's loving presence with his attentive care and love towards his sister, something his own father was unwilling or unable to provide them with. Alicent had clung to him and wept when she was leaving High Tower and he was scarcely able to suppress his own emotions, as he tried to comfort her, promising to write to her everyday and to visit when he could.

Alicent had written to Gwayne immediately to inform him that the King was to hold a tourney, asking him to arrive at the Keep a few weeks before the event, so that they could extend their time together. Gwayne had sent his acquiescence to her request by raven the next day, rejoicing at the thought of reuniting with his beloved sister and escaping the suffocating halls of his ancestral home. In the absence of the warmth of his late mother's love and his sister's laugh, as he chased her through the halls, his home had the ominous feeling of being haunted by shadows of long past happiness.

Hearing more laughter, he looked over the balustrade onto the courtyard below, expecting to call out in greeting to Alicent. He paused, however, when instead of Alicent, he saw another young lady standing in the middle of the courtyard by the white trunk of a tree. Her eyes were closed and she smiled as she counted down from ten, before opening them rapidly and looking about her.

"I'm coming to get you, Alicent!"

He was arrested in his movements by the sight of her, struck by her pretty features. A smile grew on his own face as he watched their game continue. His heart was warmed to see that his sister had not been without friendship in King's Landing, and this warm feeling extended to the lady searching for his sister below.

He quietly chuckled in amusement as he saw the girl search this way and that for Alicent, and he slowly made his descent to the courtyard, careful not to make too much noise, and alert her to his presence.

Approaching the lady, who now searched for Alicent behind the trunk of the tree, with careful steps he bent his torso to lower his head next to hers and whisper conspiratorially near her ear.

"I do believe, my dear Lady, that my sister is to be found yonder, by that bushel."

Surprised by his presence, the lady let out a high pitched shriek and stumbled back a step, tripping over a raised stump of the tree.

His eyes widening in alarm, not having truly intended to frighten her, he swiftly reached his arm out to encircle her waist and prevent her from falling. Holding her hand in his free hand, he looked into her eyes with concern.

"Are you well, my Lady? I apologise for startling you."

A brief look of confusion passed over the lady's expression before she processed what had happened, and it was was replaced by a stern one. Holding onto his elbows to right herself, she responded with a chastising tone, promptly removing herself from his hold

"I don't know what you mean by sneaking up behind me, Ser."

Seeing that she was unharmed by his fumble, and seeking to restore himself to her good opinion, he rallied himself.

With a charming grin, he elegantly bowed before her, one hand on his heart and the other taking hers confidently in his to plant a gentle kiss on it.

"Please accept this Knight's humble apologies, my dear Lady. I had only meant to aid you in your game."

He frowned slightly as the lady quickly withdrew her hand from his, fearing he had really offended her.

"Spoil it, more likely" Alicent laughed, emerging from behind the bushel Gwayne had indicated a moment ago.

Pulling his eyes away from those of the beautiful lady before him to meet his sister's sally, Gwayne opened his arms out to her, "sister!"

Alicent needed no further invitation before she ran into his arms and he lifted her up, spinning her half a turn, before returning her to the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Once again turning with what he hoped was a winning smile to the lady before them, Gwayne sought to invest as much charm as he could into his voice.

"I have yet to be introduced to your lovely friend, sister."

Looking up at him with her own stern look, Alicent playfully swiped at his shoulder.

"You have already made a mess of that, brother. You half frightened Lady Y/N to death when you rudely interrupted."

With an exaggerated sigh, Gwayne responded to his sister's accusation.

"I know I am the basest of villains and I will put myself to the sword forthwith if the Lady Y/N will not forgive me my crime." He rejoined, solemnly, bending his head in mock dejection, even as he really did feel contrite to have frightend the young lady.

Slapping him on the back of the head, which had Gwayne holding his neck in mock pain, Alicent pressed her index finger to his chest and warned him.

"Y/N won't be charmed by your antics, Gwayne. I have warned her of them beforehand."

Smiling indulgently down at his sister before looking over at the lady Y/N once again, who he rejoiced to see smiling in amusement at the two siblings, he held his hand to his heart dramatically, as if her words were an arrow through it.

"You wound me sister. I was under the impression you had asked me here to be your champion at the upcoming tourney, precisely because I am the most charming of knights. I hadn't realised I needed to be good with the lance too. An unfortunate oversight. I had thought my charming smile would be enough to fend the other knights off."

The laughter of the ladies at his antics sounded like the delicate chime of bells to him, and he was elated to have entertained them both and, hopefully, returned himself to the good favour of the pretty lady before him.

Meeting her gaze with his own, a softened expression on it, which communicated his contrition for having startled her, despite his jesting, his heart fluttered as she met his gaze with an amused smile.

"I'm afraid you are to meet a swift and brutal defeat, Ser, if your charm is the only weapon in your arsenal."

Laughing heartily at her wit, he winked in response.

"Fear not, sweet ladies, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, should my smile not be enough to blind the other knights. Although I am convinced that it will be."

As introductions were made, the three sat together underneath the russett foliage of the tree above them, exchanging recollections from their childhoods and talking excitedly of the plans they had to make the most of their time together before the tourney.

After an hour or so had passed of Gwayne delighting in amusing the ladies with his, admittedly, embellished tales of gallantry and heroism, his face fell slightly.

The sparkle in his eye diminishing, he turned to Alicent.

"With regret, my dear ladies, I have tarried too long in your sweet company and must present myself to my father."

Alicent looked commiseratingly at her brother, knowing as she did how little her Lord Father cared for his son's presence.

"I'm sure father will be most pleased to see you. In any case, I certainly am."

Looking up at his sister from his somewhat reclined position along the grass, in front of the two ladies, his expression softened and he squeezed her hand affectionately before jumping up.

Bowing before the ladies respectfully, he wished them a good afternoon before turning on his heel in the direction of his father's apartments, little expecting a happy reunion.

Otto Hightower's reception of his son was as cold as he had expected it to be but, mercifully, short. He had only expressed his expectation that his son would perform to the honour of their House at the upcoming tourney, and shown him his living quarters, which were along the hall from Alicent's.

At dinner, Gwayne and Alicent had only been able to exchange glances at one another in solidarity. He had sought her out in her own apartments afterwards to catch up on the events they had missed in each other's lives over the course of months of separation.

With a boyish timidity, Gwayne asked Alicent if he might join her in her activities the following day, outside of his own training schedule. Looking indulgently at her brother and taking his hand in hers, she responded in a light, jesting tone.

"Why on earth do you think I asked you here, if not to spend time with me, you fool?"

Smiling at her in earnest now, Gwayne playfully tapped his chin.

"As I said, sister, my charming smile and dashing manner will be your champions at the tourney."

Gwayne allowed himself to fall backwards against the chaise he was sitting on as his sister playfully pushed him in the chest and rolled her eyes at him.

Smirking at his sister, Gwayne posed his next question with a similarly jesting tone, which he hoped concealed his vested interest in her answer.

"And will your lovely friend be joining us?" He asked, a glint in his eye.

Alicent swatted him on the shoulder.

"Y/N has been a good friend to me. The days have not been half so long or lonely since I met her. I do hope you two will be good friends. I’ve told her so much about you."

"Nothing good, I hope," he smirked. "I have a reputation as a shameless charmer to maintain."

"Be good, Gwayne. She won't fall for your charm."

Rising to bid Gwayne good night as she left the room, Alicent did not hear Gwayne murmur quietly, "we'll see about that."

Part 2 up

@liafiction @ambrosia-v-black @darknessinside11 @just-some-random-blogger

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower oneshot #gwayne hightower imagine #gwayne hightower series #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower #freddie fox

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targaryen-dynasty · 10 months

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AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, loss of virginity, p in v, handjob (fem and m receiving), size kink, breeding kink, westerosi bedding ceremony, forced marriage, mentions of underage marriage (but no consummation), fluff, female reader (appearance is not mentioned)

WORDS: 5.2 K

NOTES: The timeline is altered a bit. The events of episode 8 take place later, like sixtish years or so. @ivvypg and @sapphirehearteyes thank you for your glorious request. I hope you enjoy this. Thanks to @arcieleefor betaing this bad boy. This is dedicated to my beloved @black-dread. Thanks for all the amazing icons, gifsets and headers and for always having my back. ILU.

That one particular night at Driftmark haunted your every being ever since you and Silverwing flew home alongside Sunfyre, Tessarion, Dreamfyre and Vhagar the following morning.

King Viserys had ordered your betrothal to his suddenly mutilated second son so abruptly, stating it was the least both parties could do to make amends, that not even your mother nor the queen had a chance to intervene.

Everyone was aware of the large chasm between the members of House Targaryen, yet Viserys was blind to see that it could not be diminished anymore – especially not by the betrothal of you to your uncle.

Not more than a sennight had passed until Aemond and you cited your vows, and the sea green cloak of House Velaryon that was draped over your shoulders was replaced by the same black cloak your mother had once worn at her wedding to your late father. And besides your husband's side of the family, with your grandsire removing your cloak, no one else was present.

You had understood the threat of the situation like no other back then, and did not resent your mother’s absence, highly doubting that a raven even had left King’s Landing to inform your family on Dragonstone about the wedding being pushed forward.

Ravens of Dragonstone, however, frequented your chambers on a weekly basis.

Sometimes they were shoved into your hands as you were walking the hallways of Maegor’s Holdfast, and other times they were slid under the door to your martial chambers when Aemond was not present.

Cryptid messages, and more often than not paragraphs written in High Valyrian, adorned the scrolls handed over to you by maids and knights alike you knew were loyal to no other than the heir to the Iron Throne and her uncle-husband. Neatly kept away from whom it could be a thorn in the side.

The letters were your only solace in this lonely time – and did little to mend your homesickness.

Until Aemond had stumbled into your shared chambers one night, his silver curls tousled and the little braid at the back of his head loose. He ashamedly had admitted that Aegon had taken him to the Street of Silk to ensure he was as educated as his older brother was in the prospect of you having to consummate your wedding at some point, his voice breaking more and more with each word he said.

You had not understood the significance at first, but once it had settled, a lingering feeling of betrayal had spread throughout your bones. But there was no chance for it to linger any longer than a sennight, because that incident had seemed to bring your husband closer to you than he had been all the years you two spent together in the Red Keep. Two broken and lonely souls drawn to each other, searching for the comfort they had longed for for so long.

He sought out your presence more often than before, adamant to join you during your lessons and whenever you and your dragon ascended into the sky. Your presence during his training with the sword was greatly valued by him, something he had not bothered to acknowledge before.

You were hesitant to reciprocate his gestures and subtle affection at first, however, it overtook you in an ambush – and he was just as surprised as you were to learn that you were falling for him.

But regardless of how many hours you had spent together, how many kisses you had shared in secret, one mystery remained.

The black patch of leather concealing part of his chiseled features and what lay beneath.

Aemond rarely showed his vulnerability, even after being married for a few years already, and his missing eye was his biggest weakness. You did not push him, but regardless of how often you had told yourself you did not care about it, a part of you craved to see what was hidden, just as he craved your touch whenever you retired for bed.

Knowing your patience would bear fruit at some point, no matter how long it took, you just waited to finally be rewarded.

And there you stood now. Surrounded by a group of no less than five men.

Seven days of festivities and feasts lay behind you, tiring you to a certain degree. They were celebrating the night your husband was finally meant to claim your virtue, making your marriage fully legitimate.

And of course it was none other than your drunken uncle whose gruff voice had silenced the chatter of your guests, followed by a clap of his hands as if he had seen the servants bring another tankard full of the finest wine the capital had to offer.

“I believe ‘tis time for the bedding!”

It was not the thought of bedding Aemond, his promise of him not hurting you lingering in the back of your mind. It was the men crowding you, ready to tug and tear on the white gown queen Alicent had commissioned to be made for this occasion. For the official celebration of your wedding.

The bedding ceremony was a tradition particularly valued in other parts of the realm, however, with House Targaryen – or Hightower – in dire need of some more loyal allies, they had opted to follow along to those traditions. And, with Aemond being the ever dutiful son, he of course did as his grandsire and mother bid.

There was a loud cheer in the hall that quietened with Aemond eventually speaking. “Very well,” he said, a much smaller group of women surrounding him already. “But if any man offends my wife in word or deed, I shall have his head and feed him to Vhagar.”

No one dared to mess with the rider of the biggest dragon alive, had not before and most certainly not now. So it was that, when you were swept off of your feet, the men did not tug on your gown as hungrily as they had looked at you before.

You had no chance watching how Aemond was led to your martial chambers after you, the gaggle carrying you disappearing so quickly, as if they had to be somewhere else not long after. And once your bare feet were set on the cold ground, the men hurried around you to undo your dress, loosening the bodice and leaving you clad in nothing else than your smallclothes with the white dress pooling around your ankles.

The giggling of women grew in volume, catching your attention and forcing you to look past the group of men to the door, watching your husband enter. A sullen look overcame your features as you spotted Aemond with the buttons of his embroidered tunic opened, more so as your eyes flickered to the three undone laces in the front of his breeches. The women stopped outside of the door while he entered, and it seemed that his venture to the Street of Silk years ago had affected you more than you thought.

Aemond’s sharp eye, the purple striking even more with the patch of black leather next to it, cut through the group of men to find yours, moving slowly as he took you in. Where the chill air of your chambers had caused goosebumps to prickle on your skin before, they now were replaced by a feeling of liquid fire running through your veins.

There was a longing in you, suppressed by nervousness.

Ever since your first flowering, not long before you turned ten-and-four, there were little to no nights you found sleep without thoroughly exploring each other's bodies – but not once going far enough for him to take your maidenhead.

Aemond had told you that his mother had requested for you to preserve your maidenhood until the bedding ceremony, stating she would want you to avoid the death in childbirth the maesters at the citadel had recorded for very young mothers. Though you and him both knew she just did not like the thought of you losing your maidenhead and him possibly putting a child in you without the official ceremony of the second wedding, with more witnesses. You chose to follow her orders - to a certain degree at least.

He stalked towards you slowly, and there must have been something in the way his eye had darkened, because without another word, the men around you disappeared from your marital chambers, the doors falling shut behind Aemond. Coming closer, you were forced to tilt your head up to keep your eyes locked with his, his tall frame looming over yours. “They might listen at the door if they wish, but none will watch,” Aemond purred, voice cutting through the silence and sending a shiver down your spine.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other under the intensity of his gaze, you reached to pinch the thick, embroidered hem of his tunic with your fingers, rubbing it between them. When your eyes trailed from his down to your fingers, you briefly spotted his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, matching your own.

“Take-Take it off,” you stammered, barely hearing yourself with the feeling of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. As he did not move straight away, your wide eyes locked with his good one again, before he eventually pushed the tunic off his shoulders, joining your gown in a puddle on the floor.

You had seen him bare before, but this time was different. It felt more intimate, more vulnerable, given what was to be expected of the two of you.

Sparse, silver hairs adorned the expanse of his chest, and raking your fingers through them had never seemed so inviting. You could not admire the whispy trail that pursued from his navel down to disappear below the waistband of his breeches, because Aemond placed the tip of his finger under your chin to not only close your slightly opened mouth but to bring your focus back on him, forcing your head up for you to look at him.

“Are you enjoying the view, wife?” The term of endearment in combination with his demanding touch flushed your cheeks with desire, and caused your words to die on your tongue.

Glancing around the room to escape his heated gaze and regain your composure, you nodded your head, a sheepish smile on your lips. “I love you,” you whispered. And then, his lips captured yours with such ferocity, it enticed you with the promise of more and made you aware that he felt the same, even if he did not voice it.

Wandering hands grasped every part of your body they could reach, settling on your waist, while yours seized his shoulders for leverage, fingers dancing along the sides of his neck. You pressed your body against his, the heat emanating from him pleasant and comforting.

Your mouths hardly parted as his tongue dragged over your kiss-swollen lips just in time with you squeezing your thighs together, eliciting a shaky moan to slip past your lips. His fingers had started to undo the ties of your smallclothes, their movements stuttering at the sound. Aemond pinched the fabric between his fingers, stopping it from falling from your body just yet as his tongue persistently pushed past your lips again, claiming them with newfound vigor.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes shut just a moment longer before your half-lidded eyes met his, one shaky breath after the other fanning into the chill air. You tried to chase his lips, but when his hand came up to grab your chin, your smallclothes dropped to the ground. The reassuring squeeze of his other hand on your waist did little to stop you from shivering, the cold hitting your heated skin and the wetness between your legs.

You gasped as his hand came up to grope your breast, watching in awe as Aemond bowed forwards to wrap his lips around your nipple, nibbling and suckling on it. Shock widened your eyes, given that he had never done that before, yet you were desperate to keep his lips right there with your hands buried in the silver strands of his hair.

His fingers danced across the curve of your waist down to your arse, groping your flesh and holding you in place, if not even drawing you closer towards him than you already were. You writhed and panted in his grasp, keeping your eyes locked on his face as he licked over the curve of your breast, tongue swirling around your hardened bud.

“Stop teasing me,” you whimpered, inhaling sharply as a tug on Aemond’s silver tresses caused him to groan against your sweaty skin. Pulling back, he smirked up at you in a manner that gave away he felt flattered to have your undivided attention, the purple of his eye almost completely eclipsed by black.

Rising back to his full height, he mused, “I have only just begun.” Bringing his hand to your cheek, he nuzzled his nose along the side of your face, inhaling your scent. Your head tilted in the opposite direction to grant him even more access, allowing him to lick a flat stripe from the crook of your neck up to your ear.

“Why don’t you stop tempting me with those sweet sounds you make?” he breathed against the spot behind your ear before turning you around, your back flush against his chest. The protruding bulge in the front of his breeches pressed against your arse, alluring enough to push back against him. But with his hand trailing from your waist down between your legs, that urge was forced into the back of your mind.

You held onto his arm as two of his fingers parted your folds, dragging back and forth to generously coat them in your arousal. Tipping your head back against his shoulder, you turned it sideways slightly to nuzzle your nose against the side of his face. “My, my,” Aemond purred, “it seems as though someone is feeling frisky, mh?” You replied with a quiet whine that was elicited by his fingers circling around your little bud, prompting Aemond to scoff.

“I have not even had the chance to show your cunt enough attention, and you are this wet for me already.” Heat crept onto your cheeks at his words, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle a moan.

Squeezing his arm to keep yourself grounded, you looked at him from over your shoulder with hooded eyes. “I can not help it, husband,” you whimpered, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers breached your tight cunt mid-sentence. “You–” taking in a deep breath, “you are just too tantalizing and make me want you so desperately… please.”

A hum rumbled in his chest at your words. “Patience,” he simply mused, continuing the ministrations of his fingers. The pleasure that soared through your body had you grinding your hips against his hand, chasing as much friction as possible. But before your peak could wash over you, his touch left your body, his arm pulled from your grasp to place the hand on your hip.

Your mouth opened and closed without any words leaving your lips, slowly processing what had happened, and when it opened again, he was quick to cut you off.

“On the bed.”

Moving too slow for his liking, he pushed you towards your marital bed, and you sat down at the edge of it, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

Aemond stood not too far away from you, giving you the perfect view of his flushed chest and the large bulge of his confined member in the front of his breeches. Your breath hitched in your throat as his nimble fingers started to undo the last laces of them. He ridded himself of the dark fabric, kicking it aside as it pooled around his ankles to walk towards you.

His member stood to full attention, a slight curve to it and the tip slightly flushed in the same color of his lips. It had you squeezing your thighs to suppress the aching between them that yearned to be soothed by him. By it.

Before he was able to touch your chest to push you flat on the bed, you gripped his wrist, staring up at him with determination flickering in your eyes. “Everything,” you said, trying to not let the slight tremble in your voice become too audible.

His one good eye widened in surprise, his brow raised. For several moments, Aemond remained silent, taking in your words and the request implicit in it. To you, it felt as if you had pushed your luck with him taking a tad too long, but the softening of his gaze betrayed the genuine interest he found in your proposal.

He was half tempted to do what you requested just to surprise you, to gawk at your expression at seeing what he had hidden beneath the leather all this time. Would it be worth taking the risk of scaring you for the rest of your lives?

There was a flush creeping onto his cheeks, you spotted it even in the dim light the candles granted, it was there. His stiff posture coaxed you to get back onto your feet, standing in front of him.

The proximity and the softness and reassurance of your gaze made it difficult for him to deny you, yet you knew you mayhaps had asked too much of him. “Issa sȳz,” you whispered, cupping his face. “Gaomā daor emagon naejot urnēptre nyke.” It is fine. You do not have to show me.

You were not sure what you were expecting of him, but certainly not his next words. “Jaelā naejot ūndegon ziry?” You want to see it?

Raising a brow, you pressed your lips into a thin line while the corners pulled into a slight smile. “Kesan daor henujagon, nyke kivio.” Aemond’s eye widened again, but this time with something indefinable flickering in it. I will not leave, I promise.

Reluctantly, his hand came up to cup yours, inching it closer towards the eyepatch. Your eyes flickered between them and his good one, the slight bow of his head giving you the reassurance you needed to continue. Carefully undoing the clasp at the back of his head, you removed the patch of leather.

With it slowly lowering, Aemond took in a deep breath and closed his eye as if he meant to brace himself for your impending rejection - yet it never came. There was silence, yes, but he could not hear any sounds of disgust or shock, and he was not sure if he liked that.

Opening his eye, Aemond was blessed by plain curiosity written all over your features. There was concern and interest alike etched into them as you inspected the glimmering sapphire, and suddenly it made sense why he had gifted you a necklace with the same gemstone the day you turned ten-and-four.

His mood seemed to thaw, and his lips twisted into a smile the moment he spotted one of your hands reaching for the delicate pendant hanging around your neck, rubbing it between your fingers and seemingly noticing that you had been linked to one another all those years.

Staring at him, not the precious gemstone in the socket of his eye, you captured his lips in a kiss that had him grunting once, his arms wrapping around your body. A haze of desire and want clouded your mind, as this kiss turned into all teeth and tongue.

Aemond slowly herded you against the bed, toppling over onto the mattress the moment your calves hit the edge and caused you to lose your balance.

The kiss, however, did not break. With your hands still on his jaw, he shifted onto his side, barely parting your mouths and allowing you to crawl further onto the bed while his lips chased yours hungrily.

Aemond moved to tower over you and ran his hand along the outside of your leg, traveling from your ankle up to the curve of your hip. As you tried to sit up, he squeezed your flesh harshly enough to have a giggle die on your tongue, and pulled you towards him, the force of it sending your head back into the pillows. You squealed in surprise and stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes, the desire in your veins reigniting.

Your lips parted into the perfect ‘o’-shape the moment Aemond’s finger slid in you, a sight that almost had him spilling his seed right then and there. “Gods,” you whimpered, your back arching against him as one of your hands grabbed his shoulder.

Spurred on by your sounds and the sight of you unraveling beneath him, he inserted another digit. The way your cunt squeezed his fingers so tightly did not make it easier for him to hold back, the thoughts of it being replaced by his cock sooner or later clouding his mind.

“That’s it,” Aemond purred, moving his fingers at a torturously slow pace, completely mesmerized as he watched your face contort in pleasure and your body react to his touch. But no amount of curiosity could fool you, knowing that he had not listened to you.

“You are teasing me again,” you whined, and with your impatience getting the worst of you, you hooked both legs around his waist, using them to pull yourself closer towards what your body desired. Now it was Aemond looking at you with parted lips, his breathing coming out ragged. When you reached for his hard cock, straining against his lower belly, you saw the bump in his throat bob and felt his member twitch in your hand.

The innocent in your eyes was gone, a sly smirk now draped across your lips. He raised a brow, but did not stop your hand from slowly dragging across it, tugging on him in the rhythm he had set.

“Give me what I desire,” you panted, rolling your hips against his hand to race for completion. “Please.”

It was evident that with your hand on his cock that he was not able to form one coherent thought, and much to your disliking, he used the hand that previously was between your legs to seize your wrist, pinning your hand to your belly.

“My love,” he rasped, raising his brows. “We have had many times to practice with our mouths and fingers, but this will be a new experience for you, and I want you to be thoroughly prepared for it.”

You nodded softly, understanding his concern, “we have waited for this night for so long. You have prepared me well, Aemond. Please, let me enjoy you… I am ready.”

All was lost when you pushed your soaked mound against his cock, trapping it in between your bodies. Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and not having had him inside of you before, you were surprised at how different it already felt merely pressing against your swollen lips. The moan you released was wanton, pleasure and surprise both filling your veins.

His grip on your wrist tightened at that, and his eyes darkened in a way you had not seen before. It sent a shiver down your spine, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Without a word, Aemond released your wrist and grabbed the base of his cock. Sitting back on his haunches, he lined his cock with your entrance but did not push inside. “Jaelā bisa?” he asked, a concerned edge to his voice that asked for your reassurance. You want this?

Hooded eyes gazed at him as you bowed your head slowly, your heavy breathing and hardened nipples showing just how much you wanted it. “Kessa.” Yes.

A shuddered breath escaped him as he thrusted into you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Even if he wanted to go faster, your cunt was choking him so tight, there was no chance for him to do so without spending himself. He pushed inside at an agonizingly slow pace, every ridge and vein of him dragged along your walls.

He had prepared you tonight, and he had prepared you all the nights before that, but it still felt entirely different to what you had expected, if not even painful. You winced, and on cue, your body went rigid.

Aemond gripped your hip with such force it was meant to bruise in the following days, not making your discomfort any easier. “Gods, shit, I–” he grunted, taking in a deep breath and stilling his movements. He had yet to bottom out completely, but your ease was his priority.

“‘Tis alright,” he cooed, running one hand along your side in a calming manner. His other grabbed yours and pinned it above your head with your fingers intertwined. Dipping his head down, his lips captured yours in a gentle kiss. It was languid, sensual even, and did not lack any passion.

You arched your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiated off his body and relaxing almost instantly. Aemond used the opportunity to gently push the rest of his manhood into you, giving you time to adjust to his size once he was sheathed inside.

You both released a deep breath at the same moment, fanning across each other’s kiss swollen lips. There was a burning inside of you, and you felt filled to the brim, yet it did not sting as badly as it had before.

“Gods be good,” he rasped, voice tinted with deep desire, “you were made for me. You were always meant to be mine.” Light kisses trailed along your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he could not spot the color his words forced onto your cheeks.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you craned your neck and granted him more access, drowning in the calming feeling of his lips on your skin and the burning desire that pooled between your legs. “Feels s-so good,” you half-moaned, half-whimpered, and Aemond took that as his cue to move.

His eye searched your face for any sign of discomfort, as if there was the possibility of you only saying it to please him. When he found none, he began rutting his hips into yours. The pace was slow, just like it had been throughout the whole night, and despite it being unsaid, you both knew that was not what this night was about. It was about your unity, making peace with your past and embracing your future together.

Entangling your other hand in his silver strands, you gently tugged on them, tilting his head back to the point you were able to press your lips to his throat. Aemond groaned, and in response to his cock throbbing inside of you, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me… Tell me how I make you feel,” he stammered, breathlessly. His jaw was set, and the bump in his throat bobbed against your lips each time he swallowed his saliva. You mewled against his flushed skin, slightly sucking it between your lips only to release it a few seconds after.

Running your hand from the back of his head down his spine, it rested on his arse, gently squeezing his flesh. “So good,” you panted, pressing a chaste kiss to his throat. “... incredible.”

Aemond buried his face in the crook of your neck, driving himself into you with a little more determination and force. His body was rutting against your little bud in a way that had the familiar feeling of your peak settling in the pit of your belly, even tingling in the soles of your feet.

It must have been obvious to him how close you were with your walls trembling and the grip of your legs around his waist tightening; he squeezed your hand once, twice, before grunting against your skin, “peak for me. Can you do that, mh?”

Far too lost in the pleasure his presence granted you, you nodded your head, humming a ‘hmm’ as you wanted nothing more than to please him. And with your peak crashing over you, you did just that.

A row of wanton moans and whimpers slipped past your lips, growing in volume each time his cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside of you. With your convulsing walls, stars also started to cloud your vision, and it felt as if dragonfire was spreading throughout your body.

“Please,” you begged, digging your nails into the back of his hand and the flesh of his arse. Aemond hissed at the stinging pain, but his hips did not falter. “Let me give you an heir,” you whined, “put your son in me. Kostilus… please.” It sounded more desperate than intended, but had the desired effect.

“Seven hells, fuck, yes!” His body went rigid as his twitching cock spent itself deep inside of your quivering walls. Your cunt was choking him, squeezing him so tightly it had his thrusts faltering, coming to a halt despite him still spilling his seed.

Aemond collapsed on top of you, trying to control his breathing with his face pressed into your dampened hair. Your body was limp, and while a steady breath came quicker to you than him, you weren’t able to do much more than trace your fingers over his back in mindless patterns.

He pulled out of you as he rolled onto his side, fingers still intertwined with yours and no intention of letting go so soon. You watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

It was surprising you both when you reached out to ghost your index finger over the red scar that emerged below his eye, an expression of concern crawling onto your features with Aemond wincing slightly.

“Gaomagon daor mirre ruaragon hen nyke arlī,” you whispered, your eyes flickering from his lips up to meet his good one. Do not ever hide from me again. A chuckle came from him, juxtaposed by the nod of his head. “Avy jorrāelan, tolī.” I love you, too.

Pressing your lips into a thin line was a fruitless attempt to stop them from pulling into a wide grin, and you giggled softly, before your arm wrapped around his neck to pull yourself against him. Mounting him like your beloved Silverwing, you straddled his hips, his cock already half-hard again.

His member and the whispy hairs around it were glistening in the dim light similar to the sapphire in the socket of his eye, yet it was for a completely different reason. Your mixed juices leaked out of your cunt, coating him and claiming him just like he had claimed you as his before.

“I might be yours, but you are just as much mine,” you said.

Aemond smirked at you, before sitting up a little and cupping your face with both hands. His lips collided against yours, pulling you down and consuming you with a kiss that was less chaste than the ones you had shared before, swallowing you in passion.

Sleep hardly found you in the hours that followed, and if it did, it was only to be interrupted again by lingering kisses and touches, making up for the years you had gone without.

Taglist: @seabasscevans @dixie-elocin @thelittleswanao3@gemini-mama

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