𓏲Eleigh੭

"Shhh!..."

.

.

.

There was a difference between Kings Landing and Dragonstone. Although both had kept Targaryen ancestors safe for hundreds of years, Aegon the Conqueror first commissioned the Red Keep to be the future official house of his blood.

His son, Maegor the Cruel, had seen through with the plan.

Heirs, and even second sons got to inherit Dragonstone by right. Baelor II Targaryen, heir and hand of the King had inherited the island when he was still young. He would one day pass it on to one of his two children after his crowning.

Valarr knew this just as well as he knew his grandsire's keep. It was quieter, less populated, and filled with just as much history.

However, wedding plans had taken off across the bay. Kings Landing had welcomed many Lords and Ladies just a few days prior.

As heir to the heir, Valarr had been required to wed his Lady love on the rambunctious land. The Great Sept of Baelor bore witness to such a union, just as it had done for three generations after its creation following the death of Baelor the Blessed.

The young couple had not yet left the main land, remaining in the chambers Valarr had claimed when he was just a babe. First ever grandson, and grandchild in general.

The Prince had long since familiarized himself with halls and rooms, no matter how hidden they were.

He shushed you with a smile on his face, one that matched your own. Your hands were intertwined while you avoided handmaidens and knights alike.

Mere days ago, the two of you had reached a breaking point. Mere days ago, the two of you were united after years of waiting. Mere days ago, Valarr took your maidenhood.

Years of shared feelings came bubbling up. Betrothal had been lengthy, but it was all made worth it the second Valarr draped his Houses cloak over your shoulders, declaring you as his before the Seven.

You had joined as one in many different ways because at the end of the night, he eased himself into the spot between your legs and spilled his seed.

A new door had been opened after that night.

"We must be quiet, my love." Valarr laughed lightly right after a similar noise slipped past your own lips. The gardens were abandoned during the hour of the bat. No courtesan's were wandering, not like their prince was doing with his wife.

Pleasure came in many forms, and your husband was eager to learn the different ways that bodies ticked. It was a whole new world for the both of you. A lifetime of chastity had been broken, and desire was something neither of you were short on now that you had experienced bliss.

The sound of your combined footsteps on the cobblestone path would be suspicious if anyone was to hear. The waves sounding from the bay hardly did anything to cover noise, but the spread out walkways and tall cypress trees offered cover.

Giddiness flooded your being, tightening your chest. Or, perhaps it was adrenaline that made your heart beat so.

"This will be perfect." Your husband whispered, slowing down as he led you down another side path, guiding you with his hand on your own. He would not settle for anything that would just 'do'.

Valarr's gaze was softer, filled with affection despite how unusual this was for him. The prince was nearly as phlegmatic as his own father, and to stumble across the inevitable sight of him and his Lady Love exploring not just the gardens, but each other would be a shock to anyone.

He led you down to a stone bench, hard and cold even through your layers.

"Comfortable?" Valarr asked, finally letting go of your hand once you were situated.

"For now." You responded, bracing your hands on the carved seat. It would serve you, but that did not stave the apologetic look Valarr gave you.

"We will return to bed before you know it." The prince leaned down to kiss your brow before pulling back to look into your eyes. "Unless you wish to go back now? Just say the word and I will walk you to your chambers."

Your lips curled up once more, endeared by his worry. "All is well for now, husband. I wish to remain with you."

He softened, nodding his head wordlessly and exhaling a quit sigh. His hand met the side of your neck, resting there for a second when he pressed another kiss to your skin. "Good."

Valarr's knees met the pavement slowly, pressing into the stone under your feet in a way that he would surely regret later.

It was an odd sight to see a prince of the realm kneeling in the gardens. Especially when it came to him being an heir to the throne. One would think that he should kneel to no one for anything, and yet here he was, on the ground with his hands trailing up the calves of his wife.

He started slowly, just grazing your ankles when he slipped under your dress. Your stockings were smooth and dark, covering you from foot to knee.

Valarr sighed silently, pressing one of his thumbs into the side of your calf so that he could lift your leg slightly, ducking his head down to press a kiss against the fabric held up over your shin bone.

"Thank you." He murmured with reverence in his tone. His lips followed the seam alongside your stockings, raising your dress to the edge, but never going past that.

"Might I?" He whispered, looking up at you with his double colored eyes. His kisses did not pass your knees, remaining a great distance away from where you had not granted clear approval yet.

Your heartbeat raced, mimicking that of a small birds fluttering wings. This was an unexplored corner of a map, discovered by only two people who weren't meant to be outside. "You may..." You breathed.

Valarr's lips ghosted over you like a feather landing, never quite pressing hard, just tickling you with his affection. His head was spinning at this point, nearly matching your own restlessness. Your consent made his hands travel higher, groping your thighs like he often did when overtop of you. Only this time, he was below.

"I am honored to have been granted such an opportunity." His words mingled with the wind, getting carried away by the breeze. "You flatter me, my love."

"It is not flattery." You told him, leaning back on your palms a little more when he began inching your dress past your knees, bunching it despite not wanting to crease the fabric. The layers of your kirtle were scooted upward, ending with your chemise flipped. White covered black, and nothing covered you.

"Right..." Valarr eased your legs apart, glancing up at your face for half of a second before his mismatched eyes darted back downward.

"Yet it is still the most wondrous gift."

Another breath escaped from his lips, which parted as if anticipating what exactly they should be doing. He pulled you forward slightly, making you all more accessible to him, keeping them spread in an awkward position as he sat between.

"Might I just—" You trailed off, lifting up one of your legs to rest over his shoulder.

The prince nodded, finding it to be easier for him. He even guided the other one to do the same on the other shoulder. "That would do well." He grinned, trailing his fingers over the smooth skin bracketing his head, running over the curve of your knees.

"Are you ready?" He asked next, glancing back up towards your face. You nodded at first, resulting in a pointedly from him. "My love..."

"Yes!" You answered, swallowing down any of your last minute nerves. "Yes... I am."

"If you wish to—" Valarr began to go over the terms again, making your hand leave the stone bench so as to lace into his neat hair.

"Please, Val." Urging him forward, you begged. "As of this moment, I wish for anything but stopping."

He stared, gaze lingering before blinking once. "If that is what my love wishes for, then who am I to deny her?"

A prince.

Yet a devoted husband above all of that. At least, that was how he saw it.

He listened to your silent beckoning, leaning forward to nose at the soft space where your thighs often rubbed together. His hands had explored the area before, but never had his face.

He inhaled where your musk was the strongest, tilting his head towards the thatch of hair above your slit. It was then that his tongue darted out, seeking the one spot that he knew would make you preen.

Valarr groaned at the same time an exhale escaped from you. He worked to explore every syrupy turn, swiping through your labia.

You tightened your grip on his hair, mimicking the way he pawed at your thighs, squeezing the flesh between his fingers.

"Valarr—" His name slipped past your lips with ease, having gasped it more and more ever since the wedding.

He nearly grinned from his spot between your legs, scooping through your cunt with the muscle before retreating, only to do it again, delving as deep as he could go. Your hips shifted, attempting to press closer to him.

It was all so foreign.

Never had anyone lavished you with their tongue. It was vulnerable, perhaps more so than a normal coupling.

Valarr seemed to revel in it, making occasional noises while pressing open-mouthed kisses to your flesh. All of which put his previous ones to shame.

"You are the sweetest." The prince rasped, breaking away for only a second. He let go of one of your thighs, bringing his hand under his chin so that his tongue could seek your pearl again, all while his fingers could dive in.

He started with only one, slipping his middle finger in with ease. Your willingness made it easier because his index soon joined in soon after.

Valarr had a usual rhythm, often remaining purposeful and slow when he would twist his wrist or shift his fingers to spread as much as you would allow.

Though, he was not overtop of you tonight. He was not grinding into you. He did not have to worry about grasping or pressing too hard. He just had to worry about whether or not his teeth scraped your sensitive sex.

The action was typically used to open you up, but now it was just to bring you to the brink.

He felt your spongey walls cradle his insistent digits, just as you oftentimes squeezed onto his cock. It was reminiscent, but now experienced with newfound vigor.

In fact, Valarr found himself already liking this all too much.

Both forms of stimulation proved to be successful, working you up to a point where your stomach tightened in warning. It was easier than when the two of you would lay together in the traditional sense.

Valarr often had to angle himself to find the perfect spot while also rubbing your swollen and sensitive nerves. At the moment, his fingers were much more dexterous, finding euphoric bliss much quicker.

A choked noise fought to escape, but with the absence of privacy in this public garden, a moan was not a luxury that you could afford, no matter how how badly your husband longed to hear your sweet sounds.

"Valarr!" You hissed in a hushed but desperate tone.

"Mmm?" He hummed, still glued between your legs with his tongue out. He only stopped to swallow, and his eyes— which had long since slipped shut— fluttered open. He was graced with the sight of your flushed face illuminated by only the full moon overhead.

In that moment, he felt every bit like a man worshipping the God's.

"I am nearly there." You spoke breathlessly, pulling on the brunette locks grasped tightly between your fingers. It created a stinging ache on the prince's scalp. Some things were meant to be endured he decided in that moment.

Your peak was his goal. The one thing that he knew he must work you up to tonight.

He never did like making you wait for it.

His fingers curled upward, filling the garden with wet squelches caused by your own slick. Instead of just laving his taste buds over your clit, he pressed his lips flush against you and sucked. And then he stopped, and then he did it again, and so on.

Your jaw clenched at the same time as your abdomen squeezed the hardest. The pressure inside of you always tightened in one familiar spot while also taking your breath away.

Just as your body braced to let go, Valarr switched the spots in which his mouth and fingers had been. Once more, he pushed his tongue into your hole all while his thumb glided over your pearl, rubbing tight circles.

It was then that your composure broke.

A near scream ripped out of your throat, too loud when it pierced through the calm night. Your back arched, driving your hips forward against the prince's face.

Each press of his finger sent a jolt up through your body. Your orgasm crashed through you, and now the waves had to calm. They couldn't just stop entirely.

Valarr lapped up your spend while you caught your breath, suddenly all too aware of the cold coastal air against your hot skin. His free hand rubbed your leg, offering a comforting touch when he finally pulled away, sitting back on his haunches to look at you.

The bottom part of his face glistened, wet from a combination of your arousal and his spit. He breathed with you, though less labored.

"Was that well, my love?" He asked you, voice but a mere whisper. The question came from his own concern, as well as his need for your approval.

Your nod arrived a second too late, but you answered him regardless, waiting for your racing heart to ease up while you let go of him.

"It was... wonderful." You revealed, resulting in a grin from your kneeling husband. He made quick work of situating your dress so that it covered your shaking legs, granting you the return of your decency.

Valarr did not force you to recover quickly, he just continued to rub your covered knee and lifted himself up off of the ground, moving to sit beside you.

His unsullied hand reached your own, lacing your fingers with his.

"It is peaceful out here." He observed, speaking to you in a gentle tone.

There was a heat between your legs that would soon be snuffed out entirely after a brief rest, only to re-ignte once stoked again. For now, though, you remained with your husband, growing weary due to the energy that had been drained.

Valarr took note of this and moved your head to rest on his shoulder, listening to you take in breaths while sitting peacefully. It was a sort of scene he often yearned for on busy days.

With the moons glow shining down on Kings Landing, the two of you remained beside one another, basking in the quiet night.

"Might I get my chance to return the favor soon, husband?" Your voice broke through the silence, filling the space with your ask. It was equally as scandalous as what had just taken place.

Valarr hummed under his breath, all too aware of the pressure behind the front of his breeches, fighting to be acknowledged.

"Mayhaps once you are well rested."

A/n: And then he dies.

Much love!

(P.s. I still dont really know how to feel about this.)

It was hot and humid in Florida, the kind of weather that attracted annoying mosquitoes and uncomfortable chafing.

Hardly anyone other than your trio visited the dock you so often loitered on. Even less of them swam anywhere in the water. Too deep and too dark, any of the gators that lurked below could snag a soul and roll them all the way to the bottom, likely to only be identified by floating fingers.

Boaters would ride through sometimes, rippling the water with the motors on the back of their chosen vessel. Sometimes, they were bigger. Sometimes, they were smaller, like the one at the end of your dock.

Shawn drove you each and every time, picking you up in his dark blue Chevy, which reeked of burnt tobacco.

Much like today, the trees you passed were familiar, glanced at every time you rode out. His radio played some song from the satellite that you hardly listened to, ignoring the nearly blasted out bass of his speakers.

He had been relatively silent, too busy with the cigarette hanging from his lips to care about filling the cab with useless chatter. He just saw you two days ago. What could have happened in such time?

The terrain got smoother as Shawn drove off of the dirt road, following the path his car wheels had created after driving over the same patch of grass for so long.

The trees got denser in this part, which meant he would kick you out and tell you to walk the rest of the way unless you wanted to sit in his hot truck for the next few hours.

He'd call you stupid if you chose the latter.

Shawn's brakes squeaked when he pushed down on the peddle, slowing the truck down. He didn't cut the engine after he shifted the gears to park. He sat back like he had all the time in the world— like Julie and Anna weren't waiting for the two of you.

He exhaled smoke out of his nose and watched you from the corner of his eye when you unbuckled yourself and opened the door. It was only when you hopped out and rounded the hood of his truck that he finally opened his door, partially leaning out of it.

"Hey." He called from around the orange butt of his cigarette, expecting you to come back over to him.

"They're waiting for us." You reminded him, staying rooted on the spot for just a few more seconds before following the sound of his voice. The earth crunched between your shoes as you stepped past the open door, standing in front of him.

"Jus' wanna finish up here," Shawn's lips quirked up slightly when he plucked the stick from his own lips, knocking off some of the ash that collected on the tip.

Not an entire lie on his part.

"C'mere..." He whispered, facing you with his knees spread and arms resting on top of them. An invitation, one you shouldn't accept, but nearly always do.

When you hesitated, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look. It ain't like they can't entertain themselves. Come here."

He was a wroth creature who often got what he wanted simply because he went for it. And like many young men with inflated egos, he expected people to listen to him. It didn't help that you often did. This game had been played a thousand times before.

Your feet dragged you closer to the open door, and his insistent hand led you further. Fingers curled around your thigh to bring you between his own. He smirked, placing his cigarette back between his lips for a drag that he exhaled into your face.

He chuckled at your scowl. "Wipe that look off of your face. Promise I got reason."

As if to prove himself, his legs spread and he leaned back slightly, making himself more comfortable. More open. Shawn reached down to unbuckle the belt around his hips, leaving the leather and metal to flap when he managed to undo it.

His lips curled up into the same obnoxious smile he often had when he got what he wanted. Shameless.

"Shawn, they're waiting on us." You quickly turned your head, eyes darting around the trees as if Julie and Anna would come out to find the two of you.

His line about the cigarette was a farce. Your suspicion was proven true by the audacious act. He didn't even try to ease you into the idea.

"It ain't gonna kill you not to be a prude." He grumbled around the filter, already moved on to the button of his jeans. He huffed, bearing the front of his black boxers through the open gap.

"Shawn, m'not gonna fuck you out here."

His eyes rolled, growing annoyed simply because of your refusal. "I ain't askin' you to." Another plume of smoke drifted out of his mouth— his cigarette was nearly at its end. "Jus' want you on your knees."

"But they're—" Shawn cut you off, eyebrows furrowed.

"They got each other to entertain. You know Julie's obsessed with that girl. I'm sure her tales about New York are to die for." He was being sarcastic, poking fun at the way Julie immediately took to Anna when she stumbled across the three of you a few weeks ago.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, messing with the already bitten skin. Shawn plucked his cigarette from his own mouth, glancing down at the way it had finally burned down to the sullied filter. He flicked it away, not even watching as it landed on the grassy ground.

His head tilted to the side, and his hands settled on your arms.

"We're jus' gonna be a little late." He explained, voice softening only to try and get you to believe him. When your head nodded, he nearly smirked again.

"Alright..."

"Good." He preened like the cat who got the cream, already lifting his hips so that he could tug down the denim and cotton that covered him. "Well, what are you waitin' for?"

He eyes you expectantly, raising his eyebrows in a way that shows his dwindling patience. Slowly, you began to kneel. The pebbles in the dirt dug into your kneecaps, cold on your skin and biting. A sacrifice made for his pleasure.

He tugged down his garments, exposing himself not only to the fresh, clean air but to your eyes. It wasn't a surprising sight anymore. Shawn's nude form was something you were only growing more and more familiar with.

He was half-hard already, but he reached to stroke himself, staring down at your face while the flesh grew firmer. This part of him was paler than the skin on his arms, which was to be expected. However, the tip was always flushed a light pink, blushed nearly the same shade as his lips.

Satisfied enough, he let out a breath and gathered part of his loose shirt, lifting it enough to reveal the trail of hair that led up to his navel, moving the fabric out of your way.

"'Kay," He murmured, granting you the permission to touch him. He never did like waiting.

Your fingers rested on his spread knees now, but one creeped up his thigh. Inching closer to his dick, you watched as his stomach tensed up.

He was on the thinner side, but the elongated length of it oftentimes proved to be a challenge.

"Don't leave me waitin' too long. Won't beg you for it, baby."

You squinted your eyes up at him, wrapping your fingers around the shaft. "I never expected you to."

Because he never would.

Not unless he was at his absolute wits end.

A short lick to the head of his length made him sigh through his nose. His own tongue poked his cheek, watching the way you prodded his sensitive skin with the wet muscle.

Your lips parted, sliding the dull tip up the entirety of your taste buds, pausing before he could go any further. One of Shawn's hands settled on your head, caressing the locks before moving to collect strands to hold back.

It was an unspoken moment of preparation.

Slowly, your head ducked forward, and your jaw opened wider.

He could ease down your throat, but the areas it reached reacted to the intrusion, contracting when you gagged.

Shawn's eyes closed, scrunching up for a second before easing. Each time you gagged your throat would try to close, and the noise you would produce vibrated up his length.

You eased up slightly, going back to only taking half, breathing heavily through your nose. Your cheeks hollowed, sucking on the parts you reached.

His hand pushed you, forcing you to go back down further. "C'mon... fuck." He whispered, eyebrows furrowing once more.

Already aggravated, your throat constricted again, eager for a break from the breach. Shawn's hips twitched, lifting up only slightly to push more of him in.

You sputtered, ugly noises falling from your stuffed lips. A cough was fighting its way up but was unable to escape due to the blockage. The young man above you only let out his own breath, almost as if he was taunting you with what you could not do.

Just as bile began to make its way up, Shawn pushed your head away, forcing you up and off of him, earning you the chance to breathe.

"Jesus." His chest raised in a ragged motion. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

"You're an asshole!" There was a raspiness to your tone that sounded like utter debauchery.

Shawn's lips curled, giving way to his smile. His fingers brushed away some of the hair he had let go of, only to slide back and hold the side of your head, urging you forward again.

He watched you frown, not yet fully recovered. "Relax. S'just the tip..."

As if to prove himself, he rubbed the slippery head over your mouth, following the seam to the corner.

You're half aware that you'd never want your friends to stumble across this. Anna didn't deserve that, and Julie would call you disgusting even though she'd be a fool to not already know that the two of you had been fucking on the down low.

She bore witness to far too many wet kisses and hands stuffed into back pockets. She wasn't oblivious, no matter how badly you wanted her to be.

Shawn also just didn't know how to keep his mouth shut when it came to things he felt like he should be boasting about, which is probably why he let out a satisfied sigh the second your lips wrapped around the pink tip.

This was easier. Sucking on the bulbous point and occasionally lavishing it with your tongue. Shawn reveled under the attention, continuing to pet your hair even though you didn't trust his hands not to push again.

You had to ease yourself down his erection, going at your own pace, much to his dismay. Sparing a glance up at the young mans face gave you a small boost of confidence. He was all slack-jawed and watching.

With your hands, you caressed the parts your lips hadn't yet touched, earning more strained sighs. The slow descend proved to be the move, seeing as he was approaching the back of your mouth with ease. You slurped, beginning to drool around his appendage, eliciting a slight jolt from him.

The head slid between your tonsils before prodding the back of your throat. You released a breath from your nose and raised your head back up, falling into a rhythm that would prove to be fruitful.

Up and down, back and forth, Shawn's length traveled in and out of your awaiting lips. He groaned and curled forward, guiding you back down until your nose pressed up against the brunette hair that framed his dick.

"Fuck," He panted, face twisting into another look of satisfaction once again. "You're such a whore."

He watched the way your eyes fluttered shut and lifted his hips to meet your movements, trying to get you back to his own speed. "Kneeling in the fuckin' dirt while they wait for us."

A whine worked its way out of you then, causing him to curl his fist into your hair, tangling some of the strands. "But it's f'me... huh? All for me..."

The only further noises that sounded around the space were the birds tweeting from up above, his heavy breathing, and your occasional slurping

Shawn's hips twitched again, sputtering with their subtle movements. You pressed against his hands, rising back up to kiss and lick the tip, slapping the smooth skin against your tongue.

"Oh, fuck." He mumbled, closing his own eyes. When your lips bordered the cut head again, he ignored the scrape of your teeth and pushed himself back deep inside, taking action by canting himself in and out of your warm throat like it was a cavernous cunt.

The rapid movement spurred on another gag that would likely turn into a cough that couldn't escape, and then more choking.

He ignored the noise and focused only on the constricting feeling that made him respond all the same. He whipped his head back to get fallen strands of hair away from his sweaty forehead. "C'mon... shit."

He laughed when your hands touched his bare thighs, nails digging into his skin. "Fuck, baby. Almost there. Promise you."

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. Shawn never prided himself on telling the truth.

He was suffocating, both literally and figuratively. He had the kind of presence that tied to overtake the space around him, and with the way he bullied himself down your throat mirrored that.

The tears that prickled the corners of your eyes were nothing new, and the sound of his strained groan was all but memorized by now, just as the smell of his skin was.

Worse things had happened in his truck in far worse places. Perhaps that was why his shame was nowhere to be seen

One more aggravated noise escaped you before his climax reached its peak. It spurted before streaming, and then it dwindled all together.

"Oh," Shawn breathed, cursing under his breath as he stilled, fingers going lax. That was your chance to pull back, and you did, lips pursed from the salty, masculine taste on your tongue.

He gave you a shit eating grin and rubbed his softening dick against your lips again, holding the flaccid length with his hand. "You gonna swallow it?"

Nearly laughing at the look you gave him, he watched your throat bob when you did just as he said.

"That's disgusting." He told you the second you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

What a sight the two of you were. You, with your mussed up hair and glassy eyes, trying to catch your breath. And then there was Shawn with his suspiciously sweaty skin and confident gait.

"You're disgusting." Your voice was raw when you shot back a retort, finally standing up from your spot on the ground, knees aching and dirty.

"You still sucked my dick." And curse him for being right. "Relax. I'll make up for it later."

He tucked himself back into his jeans and buttoned them up, fully situating himself before stepping out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind himself.

"The girls are waiting."

Again, I haven't written smut in a couple of years, and this is my first Shawn fic. I was so scared to post this. Please give me your thoughts. (Only I you want to.)

Much love!