“Can’t help it. You know I love you like this” Every shove you make against him, he deflects. He grabs your hips and pulls you harshly against him, so your backside bounces against the hardness in his pants. “You know I always need your cunt when she’s bleeding. Don’t fight me.”

You whine in agitation. You felt bloated, achy, and completely undesirable, but your husband’s words still had their usual effect on your body. The pulse of desire was sparking inside, despite your hesitation and bad mood. Aerion removes his hands from you to unlace his shirt, so you take the opportunity to stride across the room, away from him.

He groans in exasperation at your distance.

“It’s the beginning of my cycle… so there is a lot of blood” you warn, more for yourself than him.

“The maesters say the beginning is the best time for the seed to take” he walks over to you, countering your issue with a solution. “And besides, have you ever known me to shy away from spilled blood?” He holds his hands up as though he is approaching a skittish animal. “You always say it helps with your pains” he reminds you.

“I hate you” you grumble and turn away from him. The hard plane of his back brushes the back of your head.

“I’m so mean, aren’t I?” He pulls you over to the bed, and sits on the edge. One hand holds your wrist secure while the other works his pants loose enough to free his cock. It’s hard and springs free with a slap to his bare stomach.

You cannot help but hungrily stare and he notices. He always does.

“You might hate me right now, but your pussy needs me” he bunches your nightgown up and spins you to face away from him. With a firm grip on your hips he lines you up in his cock. Gravity does the work, letting you side easily onto him. “See? You always take me so well” He mumbles, mystified as he watches his cock enter you, aided by the slickness of your cunt. You let him bottom out and feel the quick pants of his breath as he anticipates your next actions. You don’t move in the way he wants. You only reach for his hands and pull them around you.

He groans, desperate for any friction. “Move, my love”

“No, not yet. Let me just be close to you” you tug his arms tighter, seeking comfort and affections from your husband.

“Woman, move” he commands through gritted teeth.

You motion like you’re going to get up and remove yourself from him. Aerion had used up the little patience you had for him today. But once he realizes this, he backtracks quickly.

“Okay, oh okay fine.” He sighs as he bends to your will. “We’ll just sit here a minute. Whatever you want my love”

You smile triumphantly. You just let your husband embrace you, his body heat radiates from him to soothe your aches.

"You're hurting today?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

"A bit, yes." you admit. Your husband demonstrates his love for you by always ensuring you are doted on. In the time you have been married you’ve become quite spoiled - anything you desire is brought to you instantly. This is typical for a Targaryen princess. But what isn’t typical is that you act more like extensions of each other and not spouses joined by political marriage. You both feel a bit possessive of the other - twin flames - bodies and souls replicas of each other. You pick at his cuticles as a nervous habit as if they were your own hands. He fixes and adjusts your clothes constantly, concerned with your appearance as a reflection of his own.

Aerion kneads the flesh of your hips and lower back, where you’ve mentioned the cramps settle the most. His lean fingers dig in to the muscle, working out the tension. “There you go” he mutters. He eases the nightgown over your head, showing the bare expanse of your back to him. He notices your shoulders relaxing, melting into his touch. So he takes your hips and moves you ever so slightly up the length of his cock.

That is all it takes for Aerion to see red, literally. The primal switch in his brain has flipped after seeing his cock coated with blood. It’s something that reminds him of how fertile his wife is, how basic both of your nature is to produce children. He can only think of how what you would look like carrying his babe. His brain operates as a draconic beast to take, take, take. He rolls his hips up into yours, a little faster this time. “Let me fuck you properly now" he mutters. He's done being soft, time has run out and now he is antsy, needing to claim what is his. He maneuvers you underneath him, so you are kneeling at the edge of the bed, all while staying sheathed inside you. "My gorgeous girl, all mine.”

Aerion snaps his hips up into you, chasing heat that emanates from your cunt. The slide is easy, due to the blood, and he finds a steady rhythm snapping his hips into your backside. He cocoons your body with his, leaning his face next to yours. "You won't have to suffer from your moonbleed when you are with child. I can keep you so full, gorgeous girl." He snakes a hand in between your legs to find your slick folds and clit. His hand presses roughly against the pulsing nerves. "Let me fill you."

You turn your head to kiss him. It's sloppy exchanges of breath and saliva more than kissing. "You'd better." You challenge. "You are mine." A satisfied grumble emanates from within his chest as he wraps a firm, but not oppressive hand around your neck. This holds you pressed firmly into his chest. His fingers mercilessly work your clit until you orgasm suddenly. It hits you as fast as lighting, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and simply succumb to the tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

He moves his hand down to wrap an iron grip around your middle and comes with a shuddering groan of "Oh fuck". You feel thick ropes of spend being emptied deep within you. Afterwards, he pulls out but quickly presses a finger to plug your entrance, ensuring no spend drips out. He kneels before you, holding his fingers there as you sit on the edge of the bed, catching your breath. The inside of your thighs is smeared with blood and arousal. You cannot help but gawk at the crimson carnage he created. “Now we are both a mess, dear. I hope you’re happy.”

Again, he counters the issue with a solution. “I will send for the servants to draw a bath for you. Just make sure you keep the spend inside, alright?" He removes his fingers, gives a firm squeeze to your knee, then stands. He never sits still for long, and now is no exception. A tender kiss on your lips, and then he's pulling on his shirt, like he's ready to go about his day.

“Join me husband? You should bathe too.”

He picks his pants up off the floor, stepping into them with blood drying all over the length of his cock, and matted into the white hair at the base.