I Stan A Lot Of Things

boston, massachusetts. 2012.

“Ilya, please.”

The plea—which makes the third in the last twenty minutes—takes every bit of effort to wheeze out, and it’s answered with a gravely hum between her legs. Where Ilya’s happily planted himself, hands gripping her thighs and keeping them wide on either side of his head, calves pulled over his broad shoulders. He knows by the way she drags her heels back into his shoulder blades, the way her hips lift up like she’s running toward the headboard, that she’s going to cum again.

Ilya tightens the suction he has on Bunny’s clit, a pucker of his lips and squeeze of his cheeks. She cries out, hands pushing at his head. But he’s right where he wants to be, tongue prodding at her pulsing hole, and he doesn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

Tears kiss Bunny’s eyes in burning fashion, so much blood rushing to her head that a pulsating nestles in her temples and in her neck. A particularly sharp graze of Ilya’s teeth against the sensitive flesh of her clit pushes a gasp of air through her lungs, a loud inhalation that comes out choked. She wrenches the curls in her fists, desperately trying to yank him off of her as she cums—again.

Ilya pulls away, prying her hands from his hair as he rests back on his knees on the bed. Bunny collapses limply on the center of the mattress, writhing and panting in the mess of rumpled sheets. Ilya holds her hands in his a moment longer, letting their fingers intertwine. Her legs are still held open wide, knees fallen back against the bed. She has her head tipped aside, neck bared, and Ilya leans forward to lick up the channel of it. She tastes of that sweet dessert perfume and salty sweat.

“Mm, how many now?” Ilya hums, hovering above her on his knees to smirk down at her pliant form.

Still gathering her breath, Bunny can only blink slowly and grunt. Ilya releases one of her hands and reaches his between her legs again, rubbing his thumb into her swollen clit. She immediately jerks, thighs clamping shut around his hand.

“Ilya,” she whines.

The Russian chuckles, nudging her left leg away until it falls back again. “At least three, da? I want five.”

Bunny’s head snaps his way, eyes bulging wide. “Five—“

“Da.” Ilya shrugs, cocking his head to watch between her legs as his thumb moves in another small, firm circle. Her thighs begin to quake again. “Is easy.”

“I-I can’t—“

“You can.”

Ilya snatches her hand as it reaches to push his away, and soon her wrists are crossed together and pinned against her stomach as he shimmies between her legs again. His free hand comes down in a quick crack on the inside of her trembling thigh when it attempts to shut again.

“Keep them open,” he demands. “I am not done.”

His mouth is back on her cunt in no time and he wonders if they’ll hear her cries all the way down the hall. It’s a thrilling thought that zips through him like a lick of heat. He hopes they’ll write about it in the tabloids. Ilya Rozanov eats pussy like a fucking king.

Being between her legs, making her cry and whine and shriek like, as he so fondly puts it, a starving animal, is easier than being with his thoughts right now. His brain stops working here, with his tongue inside of her and his hands pinning her down. He doesn’t have to think about the texts waiting on his phone, the missed calls, that Metros player that really gets under his skin. He doesn’t have to worry if his father is okay, if his brother’s coked out. He doesn’t have to worry about what a shit game they played tonight and how much his body hurts.

He just has to think about Bunny, and how many times she can cum.

“Ilya, please,” she squeals, twisting and writhing in his grip.

He uses his forearms to pin her legs down, keeping her wrists against her hip now. It tastes some strength with the force in which the poor girl keeps moving, but he’s just not done yet.

If she can talk, he’s not done.

Ilya pulls back again but remains close, gazing from navel-level at Bunny’s contorted face as he moves one arm from her thigh and plunges two fingers inside of her. She clenches around him, fluttering with every struggled gasp. Her head tips back only to snap aside, shoulders twisting and stomach shuddering like a woman possessed.

“Such a good girl,” Ilya purrs, curling his fingers to glide along the gummy warmth inside of her.

Bunny’s brows pinch together, mouth parted to release hoarse gasps. She almost looks like she’s about to sneeze. It makes Ilya chuckle again as he releases her hands to pat her thigh twice in quick successions.

“You will cum, then break.”

If she hears him, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She only squirms again with an agonized croak, tears slipping in slow blobs down her cheeks. Ilya leans over her cunt again and puckers his lips, dripping a glob of spit onto her clit. He uses his thumb to rub it in, moving the swollen pearl in quick, firm circles.

Bunny snatches at the sheets below her, toes curling and back twisting again. Ilya watches with hawkish intent, never moving his gaze from the veins bulging in her neck or the squeeze of her eyes punching shut. He plunges deeper inside of her, lets the tips of his fingers poke at the part of her that resists and pulses back. It makes her kick at him, and he knows then that he won’t stop.

She tries to scream on the fourth orgasm, but her mouth opens, and nothing comes out.

Ilya takes his fingers out of her slowly, rubbing his other hand over her thigh to ease the shaking. He massages the flesh there, the muscle flexed with unease. He pops his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean. Bunny hasn’t opened her eyes yet.

“Good girl,” he praises curtly, patting her thigh again. She barely even moves.

Ilya’s jittery tonight. Typically, he’s cool and collected with Bunny. She loves to please and he loves to be pleased, so their game of push and pull typically comes with ease. But something about tonight’s game, about feeling like a one man show out on the ice, being left to fend for himself while his teammates fucked off and got into unnecessary fights, made Ilya feel…off. He wants the control back.

Bunny always gives it to him.

Ilya presses one hand beside her head and leans over her body, touching her jaw with his free hand. He consumes the bottom half of her face with his touch, and forces her head straight. There, he collects her mouth in a tongue-first kiss. Her struggle to breathe recommences instantly.

He devours her mouth with as much intensity as the past hour had been, unrelenting in his chase for her tongue. She groans against him, hands buzzing when they come to grab at the firm, warm muscle of his biceps. He strategically lowers his hips, his hard, bare cock dragging against the hot wetness of her pussy. It’s enough to make her whimper.

They started fucking raw a few months ago in his Mercedes when they forgot the concept of condoms.

“Want one more,” he mutters against her lips.

“Ilya,” she groans, tipping her head away to detach their mouths. “I need a minute.”

Ilya exhales, moving to run the tip of his nose along her wet cheek. He receives a small sniffle in return. He uses his hold on her jaw to pull her back and peck a rough kiss against her mouth again.

“Okay.” He rolls next to her with a dramatic, heavy flop and throws his arms over his head. “We will catch our breath.”

They lay there a moment, Bunny holding her hand to her chest, wiping her wet cheeks absently every few moments, Ilya staring at the ceiling and drumming his finger over his stomach. It felt like they dove right in when they entered the hotel, and now here they were, in a silent room, with nothing to talk about.

It only lasts a minute before Ilya’s hopping up from the bed and crossing the room. Bunny tips her head for a view of him, watching his bare ass sway. He stops at the gold bar cart near a decked out snack station, and she hears the tinkling of glass and the clink of bottles as he picks his poison.

He turns with a stout glass full of vodka and locks eyes with the naked girl on the bed. Taking a slow sip, he holds the liquid in his cheeks until it burns before swallowing it. His eyes rake over Bunny as she pushes up on her elbows.

“Gonna pour me one, Rozanov?”

His gaze darts up to her face and the coy smile twisting on her mouth. He hums over the rim of the glass as it approaches his mouth again and motions with two fingers.

She waits until he swallows again, to hear the command spoken. “Come.”

It feels like hauling a thousand pounds just to peel herself off the bed, and when she stands, her knees wobble. Like jelly on her feet, she takes one step forward only for Ilya to cock his head and raise his brows.

Bunny flushes, sinking to her knees on the hotel carpet. She slinks toward him with salacious tilts of her hips, swishing her ass the way she knows he likes. She tips her head back to peer at him as she stops at his feet, pressing back to rest on her heels. Her hands raise to glide over his thighs, nails grazing his flesh gently.

Ilya tucks his knuckles under her chin and props her head up. “Let me see your tongue, milaya.”

Her tongue lolls out in a flash of pink. Ilya tilts her head back a little further, bringing the glass of vodka to hover above her open mouth. It tips slowly, and she watches with careful caution as the liquid slides toward the open rim. It slips over the edge and touches her tongue in careful precision. Bunny swallows, locking eyes with Ilya once more.

His lips have parted to emit soft, bated breaths. His cheeks are a rosy shade of pink, that distant, blissed-out look in his eye that means he’s ready to go again (but when is he not?). His cock is hard and standing to attention in front of Bunny again and she suddenly and desperately wants to have it in her mouth. She’s certain he’s going to take her hair in his hand and direct her there when he suddenly throws back the rest of the vodka and sinks to his knees before her.

Here, they’re eye-level, and hers are blown wide with surprise when he moves his hand from under her chin to her jaw again. Their mouths meet with bruising force, a punishment of a kiss. His teeth scrape her bottom lip, his hand squeezes her cheeks. He pulls back, hinging her jaw open with his fingers on her cheeks, and spits into her waiting mouth.

Ilya swallows Bunny’s gasp with his intruding tongue, dipping into her mouth when he kisses her again. He sets the glass on the floor beside them to free his hand, just to smack the fat of her ass the way he’s been dying to since she crawled across the room. The impact of skin on skin is a sharp crack through the room. It moves her closer to him, closing the small distance between their bodies.

Their skin clings together with the onset of more sweat, the hardness of her nipples perked against his chest, the hardness of his cock sliding against her stomach. She reaches between them to wrap her hand around the length of it in a firm squeeze. Ilya groans into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he huffs against her lips, letting his hand travel from her face to the back of her head. He gathers a fistful of her hair and grips tight. “Like that, dorogoya.”

She rips her hand away and spits into it quickly, bringing the new wetness to his cock. Her palm squelches around him, pumping up and down with slow, languid twists of her wrists. She lets her thumb slide over the weeping head every so often, each time her hand glides upward there. Ilya grunts, gritting his teeth together as he pulls back to watch her work. He holds here where he wants her, head tipped back to bare her neck to him, eyes forced on him and his display of pleasure.

“You want it in your mouth?” he asks, never moving his eyes from her hand on his cock.

Bunny adjusts her grip, flipping her hand so her thumb and forefinger appear over the top of his cock in a loop. “Yes, please.”

He looks at her now, eyes flickering over her face. Hers are already glistening again.

“Please what?”

“Please let me suck your cock.”

He shoves her hand off him and uses his grip on her hair to bend her halfway. Her hands slam into the carpet to catch herself, mouth open and ready to accept the cock standing hard and angry in her face. He slides over her tongue and to the back of her throat, prodding once and pulling a gentle gag.

Ilya moves both hands to her hair, gathering the length of it in his hold. He watches Bunny’s hips shift, pushing her ass out further, arching her back a little more. He bobs her head up and down, listening to the wet slurp of her mouth, feeling the heat of it slide over his cock. She always stretches her tongue all the way out, reaching for the furthest parts of him the best she can. It wags back and forth when he holds her down, cock lodged into her throat.

Ilya fits one hand over the front of her throat and shift his hips, feeling the head of his cock bulge against her throat.

“Fuuuck, is me, hmm? Feel me, Bunny?”

She nods against him, fingers curling into the carpet. Her eyes pinch shut, the air in her lungs dissipating as blood rushes to her head.

Ilya pulls her off of his length slowly, watching every inch slip from between her lips until his cock bobs between them. A string of spit and cum follows her mouth and she catches it with her hand. He exhales slowly, feeling heat settle and pulse in his cheeks. The tops of his ears are blazing hot and a thin sheen of sweat coats his chest.

“Enough break?” he asks her, moving one hand to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

Bunny nods, swallowing around a thick rope of spit lodged in her throat. “Want you to fuck me.”

Ilya hums, glancing behind her at the bed. He nudges his chin toward it. “Show me.”

She throws crawling out of the window and hurries to the bed on her feet, sliding in the center on her hands and knees. She deepens the arch in her back and tosses her head over her shoulder to Ilya.

“Like this,” she whispers.

Ilya stands slowly, glacially, pulling his empty glass with him. He turns his back to her, and Bunny does her best to keep her arms strong, to keep herself propped up and waiting for him. Liquid glugs from the vodka bottle into the bottom of his glass, and when he turns to face her again, it’s half full. He brings it to his mouth, drinking as he approaches the bed. He bypasses her to set the glass on the nightstand, where her glasses are tucked neatly in a travel case and a book from last night’s early bedtime waits. She digs her teeth into her tongue when the glass presses into the delicate paper of the book cover.

He disappeared behind her, and she barely has a moment to register his wide, firm heat before his hand is around the nape of her neck. He presses her down with a firm grip, face squished against the damp, wilted sheets. The other hand comes to the swell of her hip, the curve of her waist. He pulls her back, seating her ass against his bare cock.

“Like this,” he corrects lowly.

Sometimes, he teases. Runs the head of his cock along her wet pussy just to watch her squirm, prods at her fluttering hole once, twice, maybe three times if she’ll take it that long—until she whines and her hips start to dance side to side. She always loses her words like this, with his weight pinning her down, his strength overwhelming her.

Tonight, Ilya doesn’t feel like teasing. He lines up with her hole and pushes in with one great push of his hips. He plunges until their hips are flush, her ass against his pelvis, his hand squeezing around a fat of flesh. Bunny groans, long and muffled by the mouthful of mattress she takes in the turn toward the bed.

He sets an immediate, punishing rhythm, a relentless back of forth of feverish thrusts. He holds her down all the while, tipping her head back to the side so she can breathe when he feels her skin grow hot beneath his touch. Her cheek is wet with drool and now tears, wobbling in the corner of her eye before slipping down her face, bringing black streaks of makeup as they come. Ilya brings his thumb up from her neck to her chin to catch one as he pulls her hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Plaksa,” he murmurs with a snicker. Crybaby.

She never knows what he’s saying and he never tells her. Then again, she never asks. She just takes it, whatever Russian he spews at her or mutters under his breath as they writhe and tumble in euphoric bliss. She can imagine that he’s saying anything, even things she knows those mutterings do not mean.

“Ah,” Bunny cries, hands sliding along the sheets at her sides when Ilya begins what she calls the jackhammer. She’s not quite sure how someone can move at such a quick, feverish rate, but Ilya does it.

“Cum, malaya.” Ilya releases her hip to smack his hand down on her ass and watches her eyes pinch shut. “Give me last one.”

She’ll wonder later which he enjoy more—fucking her, or knowing he can make her cum five times. That he has her on will call, sending tickets in the mail and a text with flight details. Calling when he touches down in Toronto to make sure she knows he’s there. She hides the Raiders season schedule in a drawer when he comes, but they both know she has it memorized. He only flies her out for home games, only visits in Toronto. They oscillate between the cities with ease and expertise and it’s never, ever anything more.

Ilya pulls out when she’s finished, jerking his cock over her ass to cover it in his release. He groans the whole time, smacking at the side of her ass appreciatively when he’s done. He collapses beside her on the bed with a huff, red in the chest beneath his cross and glistening with sweat. Bunny sinks into the mattress feeling used and spent, exhaling heavily into the sheets.

“Five,” he sighs, and when she blinks up, there’s a satisfied grin on his mouth.

“Uh huh.”

“Was good.” He leans over and kisses her quickly on the cheek.

He pulls back and tips his head to the mess along her back and hums, hand sweeping over her hair where it clings to her cheek. He presses his mouth there one more time before bouncing off the bed. He’s still panting, barely recovered and catching his breath, but he’s still searching for his clothes. He hooks two fingers in his shoes and slings the duffel bag from tonight’s game over his shoulder, ignoring the mess he left and the untouched vodka on the nightstand as he heads to the door.

On the bed, Bunny’s twisted up in the sheets. She had enough energy for that, at least.

He smiles at her as he pulls the hotel door open. “Goodbye, Bunny. See you next month.”

“See you.”

toronto, canada. 2011.

Car horns and ambulance sirens blare like wildlife down the street. The cold bites at Ilya’s fingers, pressed to his mouth to inhale from the withering cigarette bud. He stopped being able to feel them a few minutes ago. But it feels good.

Better than being in there.

Around the corner, the heavy steel door of the night club whines open and clangs shut every few minutes. Short bursts of deep, thumping music come in waves, alternating every few swings. The line was lengthy when he got here, and it’ll be even longer when he leaves.

He just needs a little longer out here. Here being the dim, snow-laden alleyway. With the half-crushed boxes and plastic garbage bags, and remnants of other people’s cigarettes. He’s pretty sure there’s a pile of vomit frozen into orange ice by the dumpster. He’s not sure why he keeps glancing at it every few drags. He just knows it keeps his head steady, his heart rate even. He doesn’t have to think about anything else. Vomit is a wonderful thought given the alternatives.

“Jesus.”

Ilya lifts his head, peering at the open mouth of the alleyway, street side. Snow falls in hurried flurries against the reddish glow of the street lamp, a sideways slant along the wind. He can see every breath of the girl scuffing her heels along the sidewalk, little white clouds into the open zipper of a ginormous purse.

She rummages, dangerously oblivious to Ilya’s presence. Her dress is tight, a dark fabric that might be black but it’s so dim he can barely tell. He can tell that her arms are bare though, just as naked as her legs and feet, exposed to the freezing snow. He abandoned his coat inside, as well, too concerned with his next cigarette to snatch it from under the ass of Marleau’s next conquest in their booth.

The girl continues to rummage for a moment longer—complete with plastic clacking and things snapping—before she lifts her head with a long, tired sigh. It deflates her body entirely. She’s mid-pout when her eyes finally blink open and land on Ilya.

She stops. Jolted by his presence, she straightens immediately, and lets out a tiny: “Oh.”

He lifts his brows once, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “Hello.”

“Can I…can I actually bum one of those?”

She points to the cigarette now dangling at his side. He flicks it with his ring finger and a fleck of ash sails into the snow with a faint plap. Ilya nods, balancing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he fishes the pack out of the back pocket of his jeans.

She approaches slowly as he flips it open and slides a filtered end up from its collective. He holds the pack out to her, but makes no effort to move from his brick wall resting point. Her heels click softly over the concrete, crunching over salt and ice before they stop in front of him. This close, he can begin to form the features of her face.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, reaching with slow, gentle fingers to pluck the treat.

Once between her lips, Ilya brings the lighter to the end and cups his palm around the flame. Efficiently lit, she inhales until her cheeks hollow, lips pouted perfectly and faintly shiny with gloss. The butt glows a gentle orange. Ilya slips the lighter and cigarettes back into his pocket, and they pull the cigarettes from their mouths in unison.

Two thin plumes of smoke unfurl between them toward the street. The light there hits the side of her face, beaming over gorgeous cheekbones.

She notices, with the same careful and silent nonchalance, that he’s just as beautiful. And, as they tap their ashes and claim opposite sides of the alleyway walls, she concludes that she knows him. Or, of him anyhow. If she wasn’t sure before, she’s definitely certain when the gold cross makes an appearance over his chest.

But she pretends not to realize, and begins to rummage through her purse again. Ilya watches on quietly, even though his cigarette is gone and about to burn his fingers. He stubs it out against the brick behind his thigh, subtly and without announcement.

With her rummaging comes the escape of a few items along the snow. A tube of lipgloss, a pack of gum, crumpled receipts, a Blackberry. She groans softly as she bends to retrieve the most precious of these items, shaking off the bits of white from their surfaces.

“You left something,” he says, lifting his chin toward a bedazzled pink lighter by her left foot.

She glances up at him and then over at the sparkly object, quick to pluck it between her fingers and drop it back in her purse with the other escapees.

“Ha-ha. I swear, my whole life’s in this purse.”

He hums, tipping his head at the black leather on her arm as she stands again. Her legs are long and that dress is short.

“Mm, yes, is big purse.”

Her head snaps down to the purse against her hip. “It’s not that big. This style is very in right now.”

One side of Ilya’s mouth curls into a smile. He hums again, and even that has an accent to it. There was no denying who was standing before her, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to go about it.

But she realizes he’s not smoking anymore. Just standing there across from her, head tipped back against the brick, eyes set on her over the slope of his nose. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, arms just as bare as hers in a black t-shirt. Her cigarette flung somewhere in the snow on the descent to her purse a while ago.

“You’re Ilya Rozanov,” she says.

Ilya hums. “Mm, yes.”

She likes the way he says this. Almost one term, mmyes. A monosyllabic, affirmative hum. He doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t widen his shoulders, or lift his chin like a man ready to deny or boast about it.

He just stands there. Watching her.

“You just punched Benoit Beau in the face about…oh, thirty minutes ago,” she continues, checking the clock on the BlackBerry in her palm.

Ilya’s eyes flicker toward her hand before finding her gaze in the dimness. “Yes.”

God, was she that little prick’s agent? A publicist ready to chew him out? He hadn’t even meant to hit the idiot, he just stopped ignoring every gnawing thought telling him to do so.

One too many cheap shots at the goalie, one too many comments thrown bench-side, one too many moments spent near Benoit fucking Beau tonight. Any other player would’ve done the same. It didn’t help that Ilya’s been harboring the knowledge of what waited back home all week. The calls from Alexi and his father, the reminders of his failure clogging up his inbox.

Even a better man would’ve cracked.

“I dated that unfortunate man for almost a year a while back. So I just wanted to say thanks for that.”

Ilya watches a smile take over her face, and he knows then that he’ll be going home with her tonight. Or her with him, either would work. Whatever got them naked quicker.

“You are welcome,” Ilya says, and all the while he stares at her and wonders what kind of sounds she’ll make.

Her smile fades to something coy, playful in its lingering. She adjusts the purse on her arm and her heels click once on the ground.

“Well, I gotta get back to my friends. But…thanks again, Ilya.”

She wiggles her fingers in a small wave, another smile thrown over her shoulder as she heads back toward the street like she knows he’ll still be watching. He is, of course, and it gives both of them an equal thrill to know it.

Ilya watches until she disappears around the corner, and he listens to the door shriek open and clang closed. His fingers twitch for another cigarette, but there’s something glistening in the snow where the girl stood, and he steps forward to pick it up.

Angel Kisses is the name of the pink lipgloss in Ilya’s palm.

Oh yeah. She was his tonight.

♡♡♡

“Yo, we’re heading out!” Marleau calls over the music, motioning with his thumb toward the brunette twirling her hair at the edge of the booth.

Ilya glances at them over the rim of his glass and nods. His tongue is sour with liquor when he sets it down.

“Okay.”

Marleau claps Ilya on the shoulder and slides out of the booth, winding his arm around the girl’s shoulders. They mold into each other, slithering their way through the mass of sweaty bodies in the dimly-lit crowd.

With the assistant captain gone, it leaves Ilya with only a few other teammates. People he doesn’t really hang out with more than necessary. People who already have their dates in the booth, at the bar, in the bathroom, some are even calling cabs right now.

Ilya found his night in the crowd some time ago. But he’s waiting.

She’s tucked in a corner booth with her friends, a group of women all similar in age, a sea of colorful dresses and tiny purses. He can see her big ass purse even from here and it makes him want to smile. She’s drinking something in a stout glass, a dark liquor. She’s only had a few, and she doesn’t do shots.

She’s rotated the dance floor a few times, but she keeps spinning around. Slowly eyeing the room, seeking him out. And Ilya’s been here, watching. Waiting.

He checks his phone as he throws back the last shot of tequila. It’s 1:13 and there’s a text waiting.

Jane: Bet Toronto is boring. Boston will be fun in 2 weeks (12:34 am)

Ilya slips his phone in his pocket and slides out of the booth. He takes his time sliding his jacket on, five drinks in and annoyingly steady on his feet. His head is only a little woozy, and if he’s lucky, he might remember some of tonight.

The music is deafening, and the closer he gets to the other side of the room, the deeper it becomes. It settles in his throat, pulses deep in his ears. He sifts through the crowd, angling his shoulders through bodies, avoiding watching gazes that follow him to the booth in the corner.

Her friends look first. Three sets of eyes that bulge and pop like little squeeze toys. He avoids them, too. He comes to the edge of the booth closest to her, leaning close to shout over the music.

“You are coming?”

God, she fucking hopes so.

The girl grabs her purse by the handles and shimmies to the edge of the booth, peering up at Ilya with a gentle smile.

“Let’s go.”

He holds out his hand and she tosses goodbyes to her friend as she slips her fingers into his palm. Their hands are warm and sticky pressed together. The club is thick with sweat and liquor and he’ll be happy to leave it.

The first rush of air is a slap in the face. Ilya sighs in heavy relief, hesitant to slip his coat on to let the cold soothe his overheated body a little longer. Beside him, the girl tips her head left and then right, up and down the street.

“Should we call a car?”

Ilya nods. “Mm. Do you live close?”

She straightens, eyes flitting to his face. “Um, I do. But—“

“—we can go to hotel, if you want. I have nice room.”

She tips her head to peer up at him, and for a moment they just stand there. The line for the club seems ever growing, rumbling and buzzing with impatient, giddy chatter. Cars whizz by in wet whooshes of snow-slush. White flakes glimmer as they flitter around, collecting in her lashes, atop her hair. Ilya has one on his cheek that seems to refuse to melt.

“No,” she says, and there’s that soft, coy smile again. “Let’s go to mine.”

♡♡♡

His mouth first finds hers in the elevator. They’re standing there, waiting for the red numbers to rise, and she’s shifting on her heeled feet—when suddenly he’s in front of her, inching her back into the wall with two firm hands on her waist. His eyes flicker between hers for a beat, giving her the chance to push him away. But she’s putty, all loose and liquid and plaint, and she’s tipping her chin up to offer her mouth to him.

He takes it, carefully at first. Their lips mold into each other like cushions butting together. Until they taste each other—cigarettes and liquor and something fruity on the corner of her mouth—and they’re pressing harder. Ilya nudges her flat against the elevator, as flat as she’ll go with the railing stabbing her spine, and his tongue takes opportunity. It slides into her mouth and along her own. A gasp rattles free just as her arms wind over his shoulders, fingers gliding through his hair.

She’s soft and warm and an excellent kisser. He’s firm and overwhelmingly scorching and an even better kisser. Her teeth scrape his bottom lip and he grunts in surprise.

These angel kisses come with a little bite.

The elevator levels with a gentle wobble, and they pull away as the door dings open. Their hands intertwine again on the journey down the hall. She guides them to her door, where she fumbles through her giant purse again to find her keys. The door clatters against the wall inside once unlocked, and she makes a show of wrapping her hand in his shirt and tugging him inside.

“This will go,” Ilya demands, snatching at the purse on her arm. He places it on the island counter behind her.

“What’s next?” she asks, voice a syrupy purr.

Ilya steps back, tongue sliding along his bottom lip to conceal a grin. This was fun. She was fun. Typically, girls just threw themselves on the bed and let him take them. But she was playing.

“Shoes.” He keeps his voice plain, flat, his gaze the same. It makes the authority of it all jolt through her like a slash of lightning.

She unbuckles the left shoe, then the right, and steps out of them. Her bare feet bring her down a few inches. Ilya hums, sliding his arms out of his jacket to toss it behind her, next to her purse. Her eyes roll over the broadness of his shoulders, the curves and bulges of his defined muscle in the black t-shirt.

“Dress,” he says next, nudging his chin at the black fabric suctioned to her body.

She hums, giving a small turn on one heel so her back is to him. Her chin tucks over her shoulder, a flash of doe eyes that flutter expertly.

“Can you help unzip me, Mr. Rozanov?”

He swallows. Yes, he thinks, this one likes to play.

Ilya steps forward, the shape of him like one firm, hot mass behind her. She sets her head straight, finding a spot on the wall and boring into it—but seeing nothing. Feeling only his hand approaching, fingers skittering over her shoulders to move her hair away.

Her inhale trembles through her lungs, shudders in her chest. His knuckles drag along the notches of her spine, feeling for the zipper in the dimness of the apartment. He tucks the metal between his thumb and forefinger and drags it down. Slowly, glacially, the zipper snicks to the base of her spine.

Ilya’s hands slip under the softness of the fabric, into the warmth beneath. Her skin is smooth, delicate, and her body twists a little when he traces the curve of her waist with two callused palms.

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer. He fits his head over her shoulder, leaning until his breath tickles her skin.

He scatters gentle kisses over her shoulder, lets them trail along the top of her back. His mouth finds her neck and she lets her head fall to the other side, baring the channel of her throat to him. He goes for it with a firmer touch, lips latching to the skin there with fervor. She gasps, hands flying to find him behind her. They wriggle through his hair, mussing the golden curls up front before journeying to the nape of his neck, where she gives them a little tug.

Ilya’s pressing himself against her now, pushing her into the kitchen island. His hard cock strains against his jeans and digs into the small of her back, over the swell of her ass, and she shifts her hips to call attention to it. He pulls one hand from beneath her dress to brace her jaw, holding the expanse of her face between his fingers. It makes her feel small, wonderful, under his control.

He pulls his hips back and gives into the smirk that comes with the tilt of her hips still searching for him. He pops his hand over her ass in a sharp smack and she slams her hands over the counter with a blissful gasp.

“Mm, knew you were tough girl. You like it like this, yes?”

She nods into his hold on her face. “Yes. Want you to fuck me.”

He hums again, slipping his hand under the hem of her dress. Her thighs part on instinct, a small whimper squeaking through the room when his fingers press into the damp patch of her panties.

“Soon,” Ilya promises. “You will be patient.”

She nods again, a little quicker. “I’ll be patient.”

Ilya’s fingers press into her cheeks to tip her head back. It falls into his shoulder, her eyes blinking brightly up into his gaze. He fits his mouth over hers as his fingers curl between her flesh and the thin cotton of her underwear. He slips them into the heat of her, slowly and without pause, until he’s knuckle deep. He swallows the groan she releases and feels it hum against the back of his throat.

She’s tight and hot around his fingers, pulsing with every deep, prodding motion he makes. She’s unabashed with her noises, whining and crying into his mouth that attacks hers, fighting the hold on his face to search for more. At some point, her hand slips from his hair between their bodies, gliding down the firmness behind his t-shirt, the hardness straining under his belt. Ilya huffs against her top lip.

“This is me,” she breathes hard, nose brushing his own, “being patient.”

Ilya snickers and curls his fingers cruelly. It makes her thighs quake, her body dip a little downwards. Her whine cuts through the quiet of the apartment like a crack.

“This is me,” he says, tugging her lip between his teeth before letting it go, “being nice.”

She mirrors his scoff of a laugh and rubs her hand against his clothed cock again. “Then let’s stop. No being patient, no being nice.”

He hums, quickening his fingers between her legs. The slick sound is enough to make his ears scorch and her jaw unhinge, though no sound releases. She feels an orgasm burn deep in her belly, a chill sweep up her spine.

“Is what you want?” he murmurs.

She’s never nodded so quickly in her life, and she can barely speak but pushes out a struggled: “God, yes.”

What she didn’t want was for him to take his fingers out of her, but he does it anyway. Before she has a chance to really pout about it, Ilya steps away and inhales sharply through his nose. She turns slowly, still a little unsteady on her bare feet, the straps of her dress slipping off her shoulders with the zipper undone. Ilya shifts his shoulders and her eyes flit to the sheer expanse of them. She’s thankful her lamps are on timers and there’s enough light in the apartment to see him adequately.

“Dress off,” he commands, hands reaching for his belt buckle. The metallic tinkle practically has her salivating like some Pavlovian bell trick.

She keeps watch of him as she slides the straps of her dress down her arms, as she shimmies her hips to fit it down her thighs. A black strapless bra and matching lace panties lie beneath. Ilya pops the button of his jeans and hooks his fingers in to shove them down. His shirt whips off as he steps out of them, kicking them somewhere near the fridge.

Once they’re equally half-naked, Ilya allows himself a moment to admire. The shape of her body, the way it winds and curves and falls. The way she shivers a little and it makes her bottom lip jut out. The way her fingers dance awkwardly at her sides, but she’s still somehow adorably sexy about it.

A soft smile touches Ilya’s face. He curls two fingers toward himself in a lazy motion.

“Come here, milaya.”

The Russian word rolls off his tongue like silk and it makes her jolt from her staring. She skitters forward, bringing her hands to the firm heat of his shoulders when she reaches him. Ilya cups his hand to run the back of his knuckles over her stomach. He cocks his head and leans down an inch or so, bringing his mouth to hover over her own.

She tips her head back and waits for another kiss, lashes fluttering together. Their breaths echo back and forth, stuttered and shallow. He smells like cigarettes and the warm musk of an expensive, European cologne. The chain on his chest glimmers between firm, defined pecs.

His top lip brushes hers for a mere second before he stills. She waits. But he does not kiss her.

Instead, he tips his head the other way and watches her brows cinch together.

“On your knees,” he whispers.

Her eyes pop open, and they dance between his own for just a moment before she sinks to her knees before him. Two hard thumps against the floor and the brush of her palms over her thighs. She perches there with the expertise of someone who’s been here before. Ilya is not the first man to order her there, but he enjoys being the one to have her there now.

He hums, bringing his knuckles to her cheek. They stroke the soft flesh there, where something sparkly catches the light.

“Do you want to suck my cock?”

A heat flushes through her and settles in her cheeks painfully. She nods, tongue numb in her mouth.

Ilya tuts, shaking his head softly. “You are not being polite, milaya. Tell me.”

She swears he can feel the warmth emanating from her like chimney smoke. “I want to suck your cock. Please, Ilya.”

The added plea makes something spark in his belly and it rushes right to his already hardening cock. He hisses out a breath and snatches at her hair.

“Go on.”

She wastes no time, hand reaching for the fabric between her and the task at hand. She tugs his boxers down, cupped under the fullness of him, and fits her mouth over the weeping, pink head.

Ilya groans, both hands sliding through the softness of her hair to brace her head. “Fuck, yes.”

She finds a suction that makes him grit his teeth together and wills the ache in her jaw to numb if it means he’ll keep watching her like that. She works her mouth over him languidly, tightly, tongue gliding up and down the underside of his cock. He’s hot and heavy in her mouth, jabbing at the back of her throat when he gives her gentle nudges further down. He breathes heavily through his nose and doesn’t moan much, but it’s the low grunts and groans that tumble through his reserve that fan her flame. She works harder, sucks tighter, just to hear more.

“Fuck, milaya, you are so good.” His accent thickens when he’s pleased and it makes her wriggle on the floor.

She’s so fucking horny she could die.

Ilya guides her head up and down his length a few more times before his fingers twist in her hair. He pulls back once—hard—and she gazes up at him with a gasp. They wait there together for a moment of blood-rushing quiet. Panting, gasping for air, equally flushed and tingling.

Ilya motions with those same two fingers as earlier. “Up.”

He helps her—he’s not that cruel—with their hands latched together. Once standing, he braces a large, warm palm against her jaw and catches her mouth. It lasts a moment, a gentle exploration, and then he’s pulling away.

But her hands snatch at his biceps, nails piercing the firm, golden skin, and she’s pulling him back.

Ilya groans against her mouth, pulling an equally desperate sound from her when he nips at her lip. She bares her teeth back, and Ilya loses all reserve.

The floor falls from beneath her when his hands swoop under her thighs, pulling her up to straddle him standing. She loops her arms around his neck, excitement swirling in her belly.

“Where is bedroom?” he murmurs against her mouth.

She points over his shoulder with a nonsensical hum and he whirls around, striding toward the open door. He kicks it shut behind them, still devouring her mouth until he drops her on the center of the bed. She bounces once and flashes Ilya a breathy grin from where he looms at the end of the bed.

He’s fucking massive.

“You are tough girl,” he purrs, reaching out to trace his thumb over the swollen plush of her bottom lip.

She takes it in her mouth, delighted by the salty musk of his skin. His lips part, eyes glazed as they admire her swirling her tongue around his thumb.

It pops from between her lips softly. She tucks her chin, eyes boring into Ilya’s dazed gaze.

“Then treat me like it.”

Ilya snickers, patting her cheek gently with his spit-slick hand. It’s enough to make her lashes flutter for a moment.

“Okay,” he says, and then he’s yanking her to the end of the bed by her ankles.

Her panties are bunched somewhere on the bedroom floor and her bra flings toward the door in a matter of moments. Ilya pulls his boxers off the rest of the way and nudges them aside, hands running the length of her thighs. The flesh there is soft and supple, and they quake a little when they touch his hips.

“You have condoms?”

She tips her head back toward the headboard and points to a wooden nightstand beside the headboard. Piles of books, a small ceramic lamp, a pair of glasses folded up—and a drawer. That’s all Ilya can focus on as he hurries to open it and fishes out a half-empty box. He wonders, as he resumes his spot between her thighs and tears the package open, if #13 used the other half of the box.

He wonders if he’ll get to use the rest.

Ilya taps his cock against her core, an obscene, wet smack that makes her wriggle on the bed. Her hands reach for his, still bracing her thighs. He pulls her down a little further, barely on the bed, and hooks her legs around his waist. His body radiates heat like a furnace, and everything about him is firm and hard.

He inches in slowly. Her back arches, head thrown back into the bed. He watches intently as he bottoms out, sheathed fully inside of her, their mouths equally frozen in a stupid, open stance.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hisses, glancing down at the place where their bodies meet.

“You’re so big.”

Ilya huffs out a laugh and tests out a gentle nudge. Her moan is soft, breathy, a little gravely. He does it again, rocking against the bed, into her, listening to the headboard thump behind her little gasps.

“Harder,” she croaks, fixing her head back into place to blink shiny eyes at him. “Please, harder.”

A thrill zips through Ilya like a chill. He leans forward, and the angle shifts him inside of her to nudge a soft, spongy spot that makes her cry out. He glides one hand in her hair, pulling tight at the roots, and keeps the other against her jaw, just along her throat. His thumb tips her chin up, keeping her focus on him. His hand in her hair keeps her steady, just where he wants her.

She has nowhere to go.

And as he begins to move his hips at a pace that makes the room shake, she suddenly can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

“Fuck, milaya,” he grits out, red in the cheeks and splotchy all over his chest. A thin sheen of sweat begins to gather down his back, under his gold curls.

Her hands are on his arms and then in his hair, gripping for purchase as he fucks her so deep and hard she feels it in her fucking throat. Like she can’t breathe, like Ilya’s taking all the air out of the room with every drag of his cock inside her.

It makes her woozy, dizzy, a little stupid, so much so that she can’t even fathom the idea of simmering her noises. They come out unadulterated, animalistic. She sounds like she’s being torn apart.

Ilya loves it.

He licks a stripe along the column of her throat and slows down. Her breaths harshen to pants, but they’re deeper, more air in her lungs. He ruts against her with long, languid pulls and pushes of his hips. Her thighs buzz on either side of him, her fingers trembling against the nape of his neck where her nails are scratching aimlessly.

Ilya murmurs something in Russian against her throat, latching on to suckle gently. She shivers, squirming beneath him and twisting a curl around her finger at the back of his head.

When her breaths begin to even out again, Ilya pulls back and looms above her. He gives the fat of her thigh two quick taps.

“Want you on top, milaya. Show me you want.”

He steps back, sliding out of her slowly. She pushes off on her elbows and flips around, crawling after him when Ilya settles against the headboard. He hums when she straddles him, hands trailing up and down her waist, over her hips. He grabs her ass with both hands and smirks when she squeaks.

“Yes, like that,” he mutters, watching her line him up with his entrance.

She sinks down slowly, inch by inch, and they both groan when she’s fully seated. There, they pulse together for a minute, soft breaths passed in the short distance between their mouths. Her hands are delicate over his shoulders, sliding along the sides of his neck. Her body is exquisite, Ilya thinks, and he lets his eyes drag over the shape of it as she shifts her hips ever so slightly.

She arches her back, pushes her hips forward. They wind once, twice, a counter clockwise motion that grinds them together. Her nipples are hard pebbles in Ilya’s face, and he leans forward to take one in his mouth.

“Oh,” she gasps, fingers gripping at his hair.

He lets his teeth graze the sensitive bud and she jerks, hips stuttering in their smooth, circular motions. He taps her right ass cheek with a heavy palm and sinks his teeth into her nipple at the same time. She shrieks, hopping atop his cock.

“Mm,” he hums, detaching from her tit with a wet pop. He moves his hand from her ass to knead the flesh there. “Thought you were tough girl.”

His voice is a patronizing rumble, and she answers it by bouncing again, releasing her beautiful little noises that make Ilya groan. He keeps hold of her hips and sinks back into the headboard, content to watch her hop on his cock with fervor. But she seems to have other ideas.

She leans forward and puts her hands on his neck again, inching until he has to look up at her, until she’s gazing down at him with her lip between her teeth and his cock half inside of her. She slams down on it again, an impact that has Ilya pushing off the headboard with a gasp. Her mouth splits into a grin, thumbs pressing into his jaw to tip his head back. She takes his mouth in a wet, hungry kiss and presses their foreheads together.

“I. Am,” she huffs out.

Ilya lets out something between an exhale and a chuckle and slides his hands over her ass again, giving it a firm squeeze. “Mm, you are. I like girl to toss around.”

“God, please toss me around,” she groans, suddenly plaint against him, their chests touching when she leans forward.

Ilya flips them quickly, shoving her face in the pillows with a steady hand on the back of her neck. He keeps the other on the dip in her spine where her back arches beautifully, where her ass bounces back at him with every hurried pound of his hips as he begins to pummel her into the bed. Every squeal and whine comes muffled by the mattress, but they’re still just as loud, just as wild.

“Yes,” he growls, followed by a jumble of Russian. “Take it.”

Thoughts are hard to come by as the slam of Ilya’s hips steal every inkling, but she has enough willpower to feel the tingle of her orgasm gathering. She tries to alert him, but all she does is flail and cry, and Ilya leans back to bring a heavy palm down sharply over her ass.

“Tough girl,” he coos. “You will take it.”

He knows by the way she convulses when she finishes, the way the sheets below her soak with tears. Her fingers squeeze around whatever’s closest—the mattress, the sheets—and don’t let go.

And Ilya doesn’t stop.

He slows down, just barely. A steady push and pull, a torturous rhythm when she’s already on edge.

“Ilya,” she cries into the bed, reaching back to press on his abdomen with a trembling hand.

He relents, carefully lifting his hips until his cock slips free. She collapses against the bed in a weak pile of limbs, legs twitching as she gasps for air. Ilya flops onto the other side of the bed and carefully peels off the condom.

He barely has a moment to reach for his own throbbing cock before there’s movement next to him, a rustling of the sheets. They bunch up when she twists around and crawls his way, bent over his thigh to put her mouth over his cock.

“Oh,” he groans, hands flying to her hair.

Despite the fact that she couldn’t lift herself up if she tried, her head works up and down, mouth hot and tight and wet over him. She lets her tongue glide along the underside of his cock, wriggling when she got down to the base to sweep over his balls. His leg jerks at the sensation, another moan rumbling through him.

“Fuck, milaya. I am—“

Spurts of warmth enter her mouth and coat her throat. She holds herself steady, cock lodged deep to pulse in her mouth. She swallows as much as she can and carefully lifts up, pausing to suckle on the pink head as she goes. Ilya chuckles, sweeping his hand over her hair to her cheek, where his thumb rubs under her eye.

Her cheek presses to his thigh, collapsing once more with a tired sigh. Ilya lets his hand rest atop her head, equally as spent and draped against the headboard. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, knowing he’ll be collecting his clothes and trudging back to the hotel soon.

But for right now, he can rest.

♡♡♡

Ilya startles some time later to a sharp clacking. He lifts his head, suddenly a leaden weight, away from the headboard. A few blinks bring the room back to him, an unfamiliar territory. Large windows give view to a city skyline, looming buildings with very few lights on, and the pale lilac sky of the space between dusk and dawn. The bed is soft beneath him, a pale pink comforter and matching sheets.

He doesn’t have to search long for the source of the clacking. It’s directly across from him, pressed against the wall at a wooden desk. A white glow illuminates the space before her, a laptop opened on the desktop. A bright blue shirt covers her now, knees tucked up on a round, green chair. Her fingers work quickly over the keyboard—very loudly.

“You are clicking very loud,” Ilya announces.

The girl gasps, twisting around. A pair of glasses rest on her nose now, oversized and interestingly adorable. She pushes them up to rest at the crown of her head when she sees Ilya blinking back at her, hands resting in his lap. She’d drawn the blankets over his legs at some point, though he remains naked beneath them.

“Sorry. I just had to get this idea down.”

She turns back around to the computer and Ilya hums. He throws the blankets back and carefully steps down, wincing at the cold floor beneath him. He locates his boxers near the end of the bed and plucks them from the ground, slipping them over his hips with a snap of the elastic band.

He comes behind her at the desk, one hand bracing the chair and the other beside her laptop. He squints at the computer screen—far too bright for this time of night—and watches the words appear at lightning speed.

“My god. You work a lot.”

She shrugs. “I guess.”

He pulls back to gaze down at her and immediately plucks at the shoulder of her t-shirt.

“Uh, davai—what is this?”

She continues typing. “Huh?”

“What are you wearing?”

She stops and glances down at her chest and the stark white maple leaf on the center of it. “This is my bed shirt—“

“Uh, no. Get up.”

He only sounds like he’s half joking, and she furrows her brows together as she gets to her feet. Ilya immediately frowns at the Maple Leafs shirt over her body, hanging loosely down to her thighs.

“You cannot wear this around me,” he says, shaking his head at it. “This is…this is wrong.”

She laughs, pulling at the hem. “What?”

“Take it off.”

She peers up at him, brows raised. “Are you serious?”

Ilya folds his arms over his comically large chest, and even with his dick out, it’s intimidating. He mirrors her look of expectation and juts his chin out.

“Take it off,” he repeats.

She huffs, quickly lifting the shirt over her head. She tosses it on the bed, standing there naked except for a pair of clean panties.

“Happy?”

Ilya drops his arms and hums, a soft smile touching his face. “Yes. Much better.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, and he closes the gap between them to grip her jaw in that overbearing hand. He tips her head back and plants his mouth over hers. A firm, punctuation of a kiss. When he pulls back, Ilya grins again.

“What is your name?”

A giggle bursts forth from her mouth, her cheeks blazing with warmth. “Oh my god, I never told you my name?”

“To be fair, I do not think I asked.”

They chuckle together, and she gives him her name in a gentle murmur. He repeats it, his accent thick around the syllables.

“You are like animal, by the way,” he says, releasing her face to step back.

She follows him through the door of her bedroom, folding her arms over her hardening nipples.

“An animal?”

“Yes.” Ilya pads into the kitchen, collecting his clothes one by one from the floor. He tosses his t-shirt over his head and drapes his pants over the back of the couch, facing her as he does. “Like animal in heat.”

She flushes, gazing down at her bare feet over the rug. “Oh—“

“Like bunny. Is cute.”

She peeks up at him through her lashes, relief flooding her at the small smile on his face. He hoists his jeans over his hips and pulls the zipper, belt tickling loosely over his thigh. Her lip quirks up, and she hopes he can’t see very well in the darkness of the apartment.

Ilya keeps his jacket off and folded over his arm as he approaches, tucking a curled finger under her chin. He bends at the waist, shoulders broad and wide, and hovers his mouth near hers.

“I bring you better shirt next time.”

Her eyes bulge as he pecks a gentle kiss against her mouth. “Next time?”

Ilya stands to his full height, humming approvingly. “Yes. We play Toronto again next month. You will still live here, yes?”

She follows him to the door. “Uh, yes?”

“Okay.” Ilya twists the knob and opens the door a few inches, turning to flash another grin. “I will see you next month.”

She breaths a small laugh. “Okay. Um, goodnight, Ilya.”

He steps into the hall, poking his head through the gap in the door. “Goodnight, Bunny.”

The door snicks shut, and she exhales softly into the quiet of the apartment. She walks back into the bedroom and closes her laptop, turning to the disarray of her bed. There, she finds the flash of blue—the Toronto Maple Leafs shirt.

She folds it carefully and opens her closet, putting it at the very top.

♡♡♡

It’s not until the next day, sometime in the evening, that there’s a knock at her door.

“Coming!”

She hurries from the couch, her movie paused on the tv. She trips over her slippers on the way there, curses herself, and opens the door.

On the welcome mat, a black shirt and a ripped piece of paper await. She bends to collect them and glances down the hall, catching only the square of Ilya’s shoulders as he walks away.

The Raiders t-shirt smells like him, soft and worn from wear. Tucked between the folds is a front-row, bench side ticket to the Toronto v Boston game next month. On this, a yellow sticky note that reads:

So you can watch me beat your boyfriend.

The torn legal pad paper on the t-shirt is wrinkled and scrawled with horrible, nearly illegible handwriting.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached. 

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts. 

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track. 

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him. 

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so. 

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure. 

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life. 

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother. 

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

Let’s get one thing clear: you are not dating Aemond Targaryen.

Sure, he walks you to class every morning despite his own being on the other end of campus; and drags himself out of bed at one, two, three in the morning to pick you up on the nights you work the closing shift. And, ok, he brings you out for lunch, and dinner, and home for the holidays. Sure, he’s filled sketchbooks with drawings of you, he’s skipped out on lectures just to clean vomit out of your hair and last-nights make-up off your face, he’s almost stolen a handful of picture-perfect kisses beneath mistletoes and sunsets.

But, he’s never made his move.

So Aegon feels no remorse for his love-struck brother as he rips off the red lace panties that conceal his latest best friend.

She’s always there for him, waiting with open arms — between open legs — and offering the warmest of hugs for his cock. She’s pretty, and clean, and tastes like a tangy peach, just a little too ripe but perfect for his liking.

“Hey there sweetheart,” his voice, bouncing off the walls of the overheating vehicle, coos over his own excitement. She’s hard to resist, dribbling with sticky sweetness, and Aegon swears — he swears! —that she winks at him, taunting him to slip inside to the promised land. “Hmm, what’s that, darling? I missed you too.”

“Would you stop talking to my pussy like it’s a person, and hurry up!” And there you are to burst his bubble, on all fours with your skirt flipped up over your — in Aegon’s educated opinion — perfectly shaped ass, and trying oh so hard to not comment on the mess of empty beer cans, fast food wrappers, and miscellaneous parts of a drum-set that occupy the unholy grounds of the back of Aegon’s van.

“Don’t listen to her, sugarplum,” you’d cringe at his choice of pet-name, were it not for the fact the insufferable bastard’s leaning down to press a kiss on your rear-cheeks, peaceful pecks concluded with the lewd — and unexpectedly intriguing — drag of his tongue over your asshole. You lurch forward, stopped only by the grasp of his hands on your hips. “She’s just jealous of what we have, always trying to get between us.”

He’s a cruel torturer, a sadist who gets a kick out of making you squirm, and cry, and ache for his touch. Maybe it’s about the power it gives him, to see you so pliant and needy for naught but him. Or perhaps it’s a point he’s needing to prove, to curse that stuck up little brother of his who’s always making comments on the women he choses to indulge himself him.

Oh, what he’d give to have Aemond stumble upon this scene of him, the puppet master, and you, the poor thing on a string, mouth dropping open in a quiet plea as Aegon toys his thumb over your puckered hole, an unspoken threat to fill it before he so much as touches your soaked cunt.

“Aegon, please!”

“Hmm, I seriously need to get a recording of you saying that,” you don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. Nevertheless, you look, and what a sight he is: eyes more black than blue, hair a messed crown upon his head, hardened nipples the prettiest shade of blush pink. Unlike you, he’s shamelessly nude for anyone to see, dare they stumble too close to the rocking van. “Make it my ringtone, or put you on our debut record.”

You’ve no real clue who our encompasses, though you guess it’s whatever recent mediocre band the Targaryen boy’s landed himself in.

The same band Aemond keeps saying he needs to take you to see, a so called night-of-laughter you need away from all those assignments and exams that keep getting in the way of your designated best-friend dates.

“You’re so gross,” your words clash with your actions, arching your back and further presenting him with where you need him most.

“Oh, but you love it.”

And you do, you really do.

You love how Aegon fills you, slow at first to “get your pretty kitty stretched”, and all at once after he’s got the first few inches in, no warning before the head of him brutishly knocks against your cervix. You love the groaning, and moaning, and utter bullshit that finds it’s way out of his cushioned lips, whines of so tight and praises of you take me so fucking well, baby. You love how he talks you through it, voice a gentle whisper of encouragement from the moment he took your virginity till even now, months and several more encounters later. You love that he plays you like an instrument, skilful with the move of his fingers and careful with the pressing of your buttons.

“Yeah, like it from this angle, don’t you? Like to take me nice and deep,” he’s spewing out behind you, fucking into you at a speed that’s got not only you whining but the van too. “What a pretty little slut I’ve made out of you.”

You hate that he’s Aegon. Dirty, slimy, enemy and big brother to your best friend Aegon. You hate that it would crush Aemond to know this is how you’re spending your Sunday, cramped in the back of his brother’s van as he defiles you from behind. You hate that you keep coming back.

“What’d you tell him this time, huh?” Like he’s reading your mind, Aegon questions you, words slurring together in the haze of lust, no need to name the man you both know unites you as much as he divides you. “Where does he think you are?”

“Ch-Aah,” the word is lost among the slapping of skin and the cry of sheer terrified pleasure you feel as he reaches so deep you’re almost sure you feel him in your guts, arms giving out beneath you and leaving you pressed face first into the floor. “Church! He, he thinks I’m in church.”

“If he’s thinking you’re on your knees,” Aegon’s words fall upon deaf ears as the cord begins to tighten in your lower stomach, threatening to snap any second and leave you to fall into the pits of pleasure. “He’s not entirely wrong.”

He doesn’t need to be told when or how to touch you, he just knows, and so it’s no surprise when the rough pads of Aegon’s fingers rub over your aching clit. The euphoric feeling of the tough skin dancing over your buzzing bundle of nerves and his cock, pulsating and raw, fucking into you over and over and over, moulding a home for itself within your tight cunt, it’s all too much.

“C’mon, pretty girl, you can do it.” He’s so encouraging, so supportive as his free hand tangles itself in your hair, swift with the way it’s pulling you up till your back hits his chest. “Give me what I want, go on. Cum on my cock, pretty please baby.”

You do as he commands, mouth dropping open in a cry of ecstasy heard only by you, Aegon and the walls that make up his beaten van. He’s not far behind, thrusts turning sloppy in the final moments as he fights through the squeeze of your orgasm before he’s spilling inside of you, head burrowed in the crook of your neck to stifle the pathetic whimpers born from the feeling of stuffing you full of his cum till it’s dripping out of you and onto the floor, joining the rest of the mess.

“Shh, shh, atta girl,” the press of his lips against your forehead is grounding, soothing you just as much as the stroke of his hands over your thighs as you crash back against him, energy drained and muscles aching. Aegon’s no better, heart running at the speed of a stallion and skin burning hot red from the unbearable heat. “That’s it, you’re good. I’ve got you.”

As it always goes, you pull away first.

You fight back a discomforted frown as the emptiness hits you, what remains of his spend inside of you now dripping out to the surface of your slit. Neither of you talk as you clean yourselves up, him tugging his clothes back on and you checking just how badly your makeup has smudged.

It's worse than any walk of shame, really, this stifling silence that fills the space between you as he sparks up the engine and begins the drive back.

“This can’t happen again.” It’s only once you’ve stepped out the door that you speak, hand resting on the handle and eyes focusing anywhere than his hands on the steering wheel, the same hands he’d had buried between your thighs less than an hour before.

“You said that the last time.”

“I mean it!” You don’t. “Yhis is the last time, Aegon.” It’s not.

You only make it halfway up the path to the door of your house till he’s honking his horn and rolling his window down.

“I’ll see you same time next week, yeah?”

“Fuck you!” And, yet, you smile.

The Street of Silk felt like freedom to him. As if the chains around his neck had finally been broken. The walls were not bare, the people were not stiff and stern, and there were no expectations to conform to.

Instead, there was wine in abundance, and not one person nagged him about drinking too much for his young age. He devoured one cup after another until he had worked his way through all the stalls and tasted each of the different wines at least once.

The prince's cheeks burned, his hair was messy, his stomach felt full, and he was simply happy as he stumbled along the wet streets.

But at some point, he had wandered too far. The market stalls disappeared, and all that remained were large houses, their doors wide open, and women of various ages leaning on the balconies, barely clothed. Some were not even wearing anything, allowing the men walking through the streets to freely admire their breasts.

His mouth watered.

One was prettier than the other, and he began to wonder which of these women he should ask to get it wet.

The sight of round breasts, rosy nipples, and soft thighs made his cock stiffen and his knees weak.

He was just about to stumble into one of the establishments when his eyes suddenly fell on you. A young girl barely older than himself, with hair as silver as the moon and eyes as violet as his own.

The blood of the dragon flowed in you.

Your features were soft, giving you such an innocent and gentle appearance that made his heart leap. Your arms were wrapped around your slender figure, concealing your curves rather than showing them off. Unlike the older women, you still wore a somewhat revealing dress, but even so, your shoulders were bare, and the cleavage you tried to conceal seemed to dip low.

Your eyes met, and Aegon could not think a single thought.

You were beautiful. Breathtaking, even.

He approached you on unsteady legs, half from the alcohol and half from your beauty, and he could see you tense up a little at the sound of footsteps approaching you, but then you saw it was him, and you relaxed a little.

You did not see him as much of a threat. He was not like the other men with their wandering hands or lascivious glances. He was obviously drunk, yes, but he was a boy. A boy with sparkling eyes, looking at you as if you were a star in the sky.

"Good evening, M'lady," he greeted you in a slurred voice. You did not want to know how much wine he had already drunk that evening.

"Good evening, good sir," you replied with a smile, though it still did not quite reach your eyes.

You were obviously nervous.

"Just wanted to say, you are very beautiful," he said, leaning against the stone wall next to you, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Thank you," you said carefully, and you could feel a pleasant warmth flooding through you.

If an older man had said those words to you, you probably would have tried to brush him off. But this boy was different. He was your age and had similar features to you. Silver hair and violet eyes. You wondered if he was also a bastard of House Targaryen.

"How much do you cost?" he asked you, pulling his pouch of coins from the pocket of his cloak.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. The Madame had only told you that the only thing that mattered was that you got paid in the end, and that men usually decided for themselves how much you were worth.

A young, beautiful, untouched maiden who looked like a Targaryen princess.

"I—uh, I don't know," you answered him, wrapping your arms more around yourself.

Aegon saw it. He might be very drunk and barely thinking straight, but he knew he did not want to scare you. He wanted you, but not if you did not want it.

Anything else would not be fair.

"Don't worry, I don't want to sleep with you. I mean, I do, but not now. Not tonight," he quickly corrected himself, which made you giggle.

"Then what do you want, sir?" you asked him, a hint of curiosity in your soft tone.

"Just you. Just to talk, to walk with," he replied, immediately frowning as he realized what he had just said.

For a walk? By the hells...

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush. Even though he could barely stand on his feet, he was very charming, and you liked his grin. Not to mention, he was very handsome.

"Three gold coins," you finally said, although you were not confident with that amount.

The prince pressed his entire pouch into your hand and shrugged, "I have more than enough."

Your eyes, the color of fresh lavender, suddenly widened when you saw how many coins were inside the leather. There were at least fifteen of them!

With that amount, you would not have to stand outside attracting men for at least a week. Perhaps the Madame would redefine your worth and let you dance inside. You would much rather do that.

"I cannot accept this," you said anyway, just to make sure he really wanted to give you the money. After all, he was not in his right mind at the moment.

"I insist," he replied simply, before gesturing for you to go ahead.

Holding the leather pouch in your right hand, you walked past the boy with curly silver hair and led him to a spot where you knew it would be quiet.

Aegon did not want to look at your behind. He tried so hard, but the way you walked, the swing of your hips here and there, and the thin fabric of your dress made it practically impossible for him not to admire your curves.

Together you left the Street of Silk with its brothels, market stalls, lustful men, and perfumed whores, and it was not until halfway there that he realized you had led him to Blackwater Bay.

The water of the lake was calm, and you could see a perfect reflection of the sky in it. The waning crescent moon, the scattered stars hanging around it, and the few clouds drifting eastward. It was a much more peaceful place at night than during the day. A contrast to the rest of the city.

"I often come here when the Madame allows me," you said suddenly as you sat down on one of the wooden benches.

The young prince could not help but follow you, enchanted, and sit down next to you on the wood. Your eyes were fixed on the water, but his never left you for a second.

"I am lucky, you know?" you elaborated with a small sigh. "I was born in that brothel. My mother slept with a Targaryen, he impregnated her, and nine months later, there I was. But unfortunately, she was not there anymore."

A lump formed in his throat, and he could not help but place a hand on your shoulder. Gently, carefully, as if you were made of the finest porcelain that could shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest touch.

"I am sorry."

You shook your head, a telltale curl breaking free from the rest and falling in front of your eyes. "Don't be. I never knew her. Several of the women in the brothel took turns raising me. In a way, they are all my family there. That is more than most of the others there can say."

Aegon thought of his own family. He thought of his mother and how she always looked at him as if he had just committed the greatest sin on earth. He thought of his father and how he could not remember the last time he had spent time with him. His thoughts wandered to his sister, Helaena, and how he did not know how to act around her. He did not understand her words, even though he would have loved to have a sister. Rhaenyra was not one for him. She was too busy with her own brood of bastards and trying to hide what everyone already knew. Then he thought of Aemond and how he would have loved to fly through the skies with him, if only he had a dragon. He knew nothing of Daeron. Apart from the occasional letter, all he knew about him was that he seemed better off in Oldtown than here.

They were all so estranged from each other. Where had the love gone? Sometimes he wondered if there had ever been a time when his parents actually loved him.

A gentle hand on his knee startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at you as if he were seeing you for the very first time.

"Hey... You are so quiet all of a sudden. Is everything alright?" Your voice was so caring, and it almost sounded as if you were genuinely concerned for him. Were you worried? You had only known each other for twenty minutes.

He nodded, but he was not sure if that was really true. He did not even know what to say to you.

"I think so," he finally answered, nodding his head to try and appear confident. It did not work.

"I have not asked your name yet..." you said, leaning your head slightly to the side so that your silvery mane billowed like a curtain in the breeze.

"Aegon," he replied, and for the first time that evening, he sounded neither drunk nor unsure. "I am Aegon Targaryen."

Before he could say another word, you jumped up from your seat on the bench as if it had burned you, and looked at him with wide eyes, as if you could not believe it.

"You are the prince!" you cried, your voice echoing across the lake, startling a few swans who flapped their wings angrily before turning their heads away.

"Shhh, not so loud," he said immediately, grabbing your hand to pull you back onto the bench, which was easier than you thought, since the sword he used for training seemed to weigh more than you.

Your eyes wandered over his features as if you were now seeing him in a new light, which was probably true. Until now, he was just the boy who approached you while drunk and gave you a bag of gold coins just so you would go for a walk with him.

You should have known. The flawless face that looked as if a sculptor had carved it from marble, the amethyst-colored eyes, and the long silver hair with the gentle waves.

He looked like what you imagined a prince to look like. So why should he not be one?

"Forgive me, my—my prince. I should have bowed," you stammered, a rosy blush spreading across your soft cheeks.

"No, please, I am not looking for formalities. That is why I ran away from the castle tonight. I just wanted to be free tonight. To be myself," he told you, and he was actually speaking the truth. He had no reason to hide the truth from you. After all, you were just a girl without status or rank.

Your shoulders were tense, your back slightly slumped, and your gaze was full of caution, as if you were trying to hide from him or make yourself small. Invisible.

"Please, to you, I am just Aegon. Just Aegon," he repeated, so you could memorize it as best you could. For you here on this wooden bench beside the Blackwater, he did not want to be a prince, or anyone with a name. He was just a boy, just as you were just a girl. Without a name, without responsibilities.

A bat flew in the distance, a breeze rushed over the two of you, causing the water to ripple gently.

"Just Aegon," you whispered finally, giving him a gentle smile that would haunt him from that moment on, even in his dreams.

"Well then, Aegon. What do we do now?"

Aegon walked down the streets of King's Landing with a cheeky grin on his lips. His blue cloak was pulled low over his face, obscuring his short silver hair, which would identify him as one of the princes.

He had just finished a hearty breakfast—two hours later than the rest of his family, but still—and now he was on his way to make his day even better.

His steps were brimming with energy as he entered the whorehouse he had frequented since he was sixteen, and he was immediately greeted with the familiar sweet scent of perfume, sweat, and sex. An addictive mixture that he enjoyed deeply.

His eyes still held the same color and intensity as six years ago, but now somewhat less lustrous, scanned the interior for a familiar silhouette.

In the far corner, half-covered by curtains, sat some musicians playing a rather quiet melody on their lutes and drums, to which some of the women in the center of the room were dancing sensually. Dressed in naught and in jewelry only, they performed a dance with fans for those watching. But most of the men had already chosen one of the beauties, drowning themselves in wine while allowing themselves to be satisfied by the object of their desire.

A sigh escaped him, simultaneously annoyed and relieved, when he realized that none of the men's laps contained the one person he was looking for.

Without paying attention to any of the girls who blinked their eyelashes in his direction or pressed themselves lasciviously against his side, he immediately headed toward the private rooms, which were mostly separated only by a thin curtain.

Aegon could not help but curiously peer into one or two of the rooms, although he could already hear that he would not find the apple of his eye there at all.

A woman lay naked on the bed with her legs spread, and between them knelt a man who was pleasuring her as if it were his last time on this earth. In another room, three women lay simultaneously on a bed, exploring each other and giving in to their otherwise suppressed desires.

One was more interesting than the one before it, but he did not find the one his heart yearned for. The one woman for whom even he would kneel and for whom he would worship the ground on which she walked.

Suddenly, he heard a noise that made his heart leap and his eyes light up. He turned a corner, his steps quickening.

A melodious chuckle came from the end of the hall, and Aegon felt drawn to it, like a sailor on the high seas hearing the enchanted melody of a siren.

He drew aside the curtain, the color of ripe peaches, more beautiful and noble than all the others, since he had given it to you, and what he saw filled him with joy.

You sat on the soft mattress of your bed, your silver hair long and loose, falling down your back like a veil, and you wore the pink dress he had given you for your last name day. It was the same color as the membranes of Sunfyre's wings.

On your lap sat your three-year-old daughter, giggling happily as you repeatedly tapped her on the nose.

At the sound of the curtain being drawn aside, you looked up, and immediately a wide grin spread across your beautiful face. He did not know how it was possible, but you had become even more beautiful over the years. Especially after you became a mother and gave him this perfect little being, you shone like the brightest star in the sky.

"Aegon," you breathed out, whereupon the little girl, who had made herself comfortable in your lap, turned her head to him. She looked just like you. Her hair was not quite silver, but more golden, but her eyes shone like amethysts and her nose was definitely his.

He had never had to wonder if she was not perhaps another man's daughter, because he had paid the Madame of this brothel so much gold that you could choose whoever you wanted to sleep with, and that was just him. He had come almost every night since the night you met all these years ago.

You wrapped him around your finger like no one else could with your innocent gaze and sweet words, and ever since you first slept with each other, he wanted no one else but you.

Of course, he has still tried himself out, and his wife, whom he also had to breed once to produce an heir, was waiting for him back in the Red Keep, but he only felt romantic, deep love for you.

Of course, he loved his family, and he also loved the twins he fathered with Helaena, but you were different. You were the sun in his sky, and your daughter was the moon that followed. He was your sword and shield. The dragon that guarded his greatest treasure, and that was the two of you.

"Daddy!" cried the girl, stretching her small arms out to him.

How could he resist?

The prince drew the curtain behind him and sat down on the bed with you, where he immediately took his daughter in his arms and held her tight. The girl, who bore the name Daena, instinctively snuggled up to him, as if he were the only place where she felt completely safe and comfortable.

Not a second later, you moved closer to him and pressed a kiss to his lips, which, even after all these years, still made his stomach feel butterflies.

"You are early," you said after you had pulled away.

"I just had to see you. Both of you. Gods, I have missed you so much," he answered, gently stroking your daughter's back.

It was a miracle to him that such innocence and purity could arise in a place of depravity like this, but even before your girl was born, you were the perfect example. You, too, were born and raised in this place. The only difference from your daughter was that she had a mother and father who loved her with all their hearts and would do anything for her.

"It has only been three days since you last saw us," you replied with a laugh.

"Too long," he said immediately, and immediately hugged little Daena tighter to his chest, which seemed to make the girl even happier.

"How are you, my love?" you asked, laying on your side, which took his breath away for a moment.

How was it possible that you became more beautiful with each passing day?

The sunlight that filtered through the room's small window settled over you like a blanket, making you look as if the Mother herself had blessed you. It did not help that your body had changed over time, becoming so irresistible that he was certain he could not survive a week without you.

Motherhood had made your curves even softer and more sensual. Something he found beautiful, and something he had proven to you on many nights. In fact, it was a miracle that you had not gotten pregnant again.

"Darling?" you asked, bringing him back to the present. Of course, you noticed that he was lost in his thoughts.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I was just a little distracted by your beauty," he replied with a wink, casually stroking your daughter's hair.

"All these years and you are still so in love," you sighed, a dreamy smile on your lips, the same color as the dress you were wearing.

"Can you judge me for that? I am just so happy with you and Daena."

You nodded and reached out a hand to him, which he immediately took in his. In contrast to his, your hand was small and delicate, and your daughter's was still tiny anyway.

"Me too, Aegon. Me too."

A soft snore sounded from his chest, and the prince realized with a grin that his little star had fallen asleep in his embrace. He carefully stood up and carried her to her small bed, which was right against the wall and far enough away from the window so she would not get cold. You wanted to prevent her from getting sick at all costs, because down here in the Street of Silk, there were not the same medical resources as in the Red Keep. But at least it was better than in Flea Bottom.

He laid the girl down in her bed and gently covered her before pressing another kiss to her forehead. He could never have imagined, even in his wildest dreams, that something so innocent and perfect could come from him. But your Daena and his twins were able to prove that to him.

He was no disappointment.

And you and your love were able to prove that to him, even if the road was long and difficult.

Aegon plopped back down on the bed next to you and did not wait a second before pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck while his hands stroked the back of your neck. Of course, he could not help but leave hot, wet kisses on your pale skin and rest his hands on your round bottom.

"Aegon," you whispered quickly. "Not when Daena's in the room with us."

"But she's asleep?" he argued, sinking his teeth into your sensitive skin once, causing you to moan.

He loved the effect he had on you.

"But you know I can't be quiet. I will wake her," you countered, but he could feel your breathing quicken and your thighs pressing together. His perfect, lustful girl.

"I haven't been here for three days, sweetling. I need you."

"Oh yeah?" You wrapped your arms around him and turned so that your back was on the mattress, and he was lying over you like a warm, cozy blanket. Your favorite.

"You know I can't live without you," he murmured into the crook of your neck and began kissing his way down until he reached the neckline of your dress. He would have loved to rip it off, but he also knew that this fabric meant a lot to you, and he did not want to wake your little girl either. She was sleeping so peacefully.

"Aegon..." you sighed softly, whereupon his hand gently slid under the fabric of your dress and cupped one of your perfect, round breasts.

Back then, they had been a little smaller, but since your pregnancy, they had grown and were fuller. Gods, he remembered the time at the end of your pregnancy and how much he enjoyed your warm, soothing milk while his finger was knuckle-deep in your tight cunt.

A soft moan escaped you as he ran his thumb over your nipple and immediately felt it harden. The mere sensation of it made his pants tighten, and he began to rub himself against you slowly, cautiously at first.

With his other hand, he pulled the thin sleeve of your dress down so that your other breast was exposed to his greedy gaze. He did not even try to hold back, but immediately wrapped his mouth around your pink nipple and began sucking on it like a babe would.

Your hand found itself in his hair, and you had to bite your lip hard to suppress your moan. Whenever you had usually fucked, one of the other girls would take care of your girl, but right now most of them were busy, and Daena was sleeping peacefully.

You had to make the most of it.

While Aegon's tongue skillfully flicked against your nub and his other hand massaged and squeezed your breast, you pressed your knee against his growing erection, eliciting a loud whimper from him.

A grin spread across your lips, and he instinctively began to move his hips against you more and more. He had been gone three days, which also meant he had gone three days without sex. But, knowing him, you knew his right hand could also bring him a lot of pleasure.

"You are doing this so well, baby," you whispered, and another moan escaped him, this one sounding more whiny than the first.

He lightly bit your nipple while his other hand left your breast and made its way down your body until he reached the end of your dress. He yanked it up your thighs with more force than necessary, and his fingers quickly found your pearl and began circling it.

You threw your head back into your pillow to muffle your own noises as he worked on your sensitive spot with expert fingers.

You simply pressed your knee even harder against his cock, and he reciprocated by sucking on your breast with even more vigor, as if he could actually coax some more milk out of it if he tried hard enough, which of course was not possible.

But then he suddenly broke away from you and lifted your dress up to your hips before hastily unlacing his breeches and pulling out his hard and throbbing cock.

You immediately spread your legs and leaned back on your elbows. Your lover immediately climbed over you and pressed his cock against your wet slit. He glanced up at you briefly, and you gave him a nod to indicate that you were ready for him.

He slowly thrust into you, biting his own lower lip to suppress the throaty sound that almost escaped him. Your silken walls were so warm and soft around him that he could not help but immediately thrust into you faster and faster. He quickly found a suitable rhythm, and soon you were writhing beneath him as if it were the first time.

You were even tighter around him, and Aegon knew he would not be able to hold out for long. He had had to go three whole days without you, with only the company of his own hand. The feeling of your heavenly cunt around him was better than anything else in the world.

He buried his face in your bosom as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

"I love you," he murmured between thrusts. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you murmured back, feeling your climax quickly approaching.

His mouth found your breast again, and he began thrusting even more forcefully, the way your nails dug into his shoulder proving he was hitting that one sweet spot deep inside you again and again.

"Oh, Aegon... I—ah—I'm going to—" you told him, and he nodded and thrusted inside of you even harder. He needed to see and feel you come around,

"Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum now," he replied in a husky, deep voice.

As if on command, your inner walls contracted tightly and your mouth fell open as your body writhed beneath him, riding out your orgasm. Meanwhile, you tried not to make any noise, although of course you could not help the sounds of your wet cunny, or even the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck, yes, just like that. Milk me fucking dry," he grunted before he too spilled into your warmth.

A long sigh rewarded him, and he leaned up to press his lips against yours. You accepted the kiss for a second, even though you were still gasping for air, before you pulled away and looked to the side at your daughter's bed.

Daena was still asleep. Thank the gods.

"I told you, you don't have to worry," Aegon said with a grin on his lips.

You could not help but roll your eyes and playfully hit him against the chest. With a laugh, he pulled out of you, fixed his pants and adjusted his shirt so he looked the way he did before and as if nothing at all had happened.

You, on the other hand, looked perfectly wrecked.

Your hair was a mess, your skin flushed, your chest heaving with every breath, your breasts still bare and wet with his spit, and your legs still spread. Besides, he watched with pride as his seed leaked out of you and stained the sheets beneath you, as it had so many times before.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumbled, closing your legs as you adjusted your dress so your beautiful curves were once again covered.

"How can I not? You are just so beautiful," he said, still with the same grin on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow and threw it against his side, which made him laugh again. "Go away."

But the prince just shook his head. "I am not going anywhere, my darling."

Aegon sat down next to you again and put his arm around your shoulders, and you could not help but lean into him as well.

You thought back to the night you had met and thanked the gods for sending him to you.

Your beloved. Your prince. Only yours.

The Dividers are from the wonderful @zaldritzosrose !

Taglist: @bey0nd-1he-stars @sassypain @hisfavegirl @dahaenatargaryen @sylasthegrim @danytar

user1 LMAO HAYDEN 😭

user2 she’s slaying… he’s there ig

user3 who is this diva 💜

haydenchristensen i told you not to post that!

↳ yourusername sorry pookie 🤭

user4 mama a hayden behind you !

user5 i wanna be her so bad 💔

yourbestie had sm fun !! ( even though you brought the old man )

↳ user6 OLD MAN???

↳ user7 let him get up, let him get up

↳ yourusername ageism 💔

user8 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

yourusername

liked by hayden christensen and more

yourusername i just wanna be part of your symphony 🗣️

view all comments

haydenchristensen literally what does the caption mean?

↳ yourusername oh my sweet chronically offline baby 🥹

↳ haydenchristensen you are just saying words

user1 wait how old is she?

↳ user2 22 !

↳ user1 isn’t he like 43?

↳ user3 and???

user4 do you guys need a third? ( PLEASE )

user5 is you look very closely you can see me drowning in the

back 🩷

yourusername

liked by haydenchristensen and more

yourusername stream so high school by taylor swift

view all comments

user1 didn’t you just get out of high school lmao

↳ yourusername GAGGED AND FOR WHAT 😭

↳ user2 Y/NNNN 😭😭😭😭

user3 HAND PLACEMENT HAND PLACEMENT HAND PLACEMENT

user4 gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

yourbestie i was literally with you too but okay

↳ haydenchristensen take her back, please.

↳ yourbestie no ❤️

↳ yourusername i did not come here to be bullied 😔

user5 i’m 😭 so 😭 happy 😭 for 😭 you 😭

haydenchristensen 1 hour ago

♫ ‘something about you’ by eyedress, dent may ♫

yourusername 1 hour ago

♫ ‘sailor song’ by gigi perez ♫

yourusername

liked by haydenchristensen and more

yourusername i love my boyfriend !!

view all comments

haydenchristensen love you, sweet girl

↳ yourusername come kiss me rn.

user1 the hayden cake??? 😭😭

user2 can’t believe they are still together

↳ user3 REAL

user4 doesn’t anyone find it weird that he is 20 years older than her?

↳ user5 no because he could be her dad

↳ yourbestie that’s why she calls him daddy 🥰

↳ yourusername LIES AND SLANDER OMG

haydenchristensen

liked by yourusername and more

haydenchristensen thank you for all your support this weekend!

view all comments

yourusername you’re welcome

yourusername no but actually

yourusername i’m obsessed with you and i’m so proud

yourusername marry me

↳ haydenchristensen okay

user1 DID THEY JUST GET ENGAGED???

user2 i’ve been a fan of you for almost 15 years hayden, so happy to see you thriving !

user3 was so lovely meeting you and y/n this weekend 🫶🏻

user4 i miss you already 💔

user5 our anakin skywalker always

user6 ARE WE IGNORING THE PROPOSAL GUYS PLS

yourusername 1 hour ago

♫ ‘older’ by isabel larosa ♫

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

You shut the door to your uber and smooth your skirt as you walk up to the familiar front door. You told Helaena the driver got here earlier than expected and you would just wait for her. In reality you wanted to see him. Aegon. He’s been taking over your mind at night, more so than usual, and you just need.. Him. To see him. Anything. You ring the doorbell and wait with your hands clasped. After a minute you ring it again with pursed lips, knowing he’s inside. 

Aegon groans as the doorbell rings once more before throwing his phone on the bed and thudding down the stairs. He flicks the front light on and cracks open the door with annoyance. He opens the door wider with a smile as he nods you inside. You duck under his arm and he watches as your skirt softly curls just under your ass. 

Every time he’s graced with your presence you offer him a new outfit to fantasize over. He would give anything to just bend you over and pull your skirt up. Gods the way you would probably squirm if he- 

“Are you okay, Aegon?” you tilt your head and step towards him. 

“Helaena’s not home yet.” he clicks the door shut and you turn to him. 

“She told me I could wait here.” you chew your lip and he smirks looking you over from head to toe. 

“I was going to go to the store. You can come with me instead of sitting here alone.” he watches a smile spread across your face. 

“I do love shopping.” you nod, stepping closer. 

“I just need to grab my phone and wallet.” he smirks, turning to walk up the stairs. He’s back down the stairs a minute later and grabbing your hand and leading you to the garage. 

“Thank you for hanging out with me while I wait.” you squeeze his hand. “What kind of shopping are we doing? It’s kinda late.” you hum as he opens the passenger door for you. 

“It’ll still be open by the time we get there.” he chuckles, shutting the door and walking to his. “What are you and Helaena doing so late?” he turns to you with a lazy smile as he starts his car. “Watching some movie and giggling all night?” he watches your cheeks flush as a pout forms on your lips. 

“And if we are?” you scowl but he knows it’s not sincere. 

“Nothing.” he shakes his head and pats your thigh. “What movie are you two going to watch?” he leaves his hand on you as he turns onto the street. 

“I don’t know yet.” you chew your lip, glancing at his hand. He left it there so casually but his soft grip is sending heat through your body. 

“Mm, well if it’s terribly scary you can come to my bed and I’ll protect you.” he softly squeezes your thigh and hears your small gasp. “Maybe even if it’s not scary.” his words low and spoken so nonchalantly you almost miss them. 

“What do you mean?” he watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip. 

“What would you like it to mean?” he glances over at you as he feels you shift in the seat. He tightens his hand slightly and hears a soft whine. 

“Your rings are cold.” you whisper, pressing your hand on top of his. 

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” he starts to slide his hand up. “This skirt barely covers your panties.” he softly tugs in the hem before resting his hand a couple inches from your core. 

“I have tights on.” he smirks at your breathy tone. 

“You do.” he starts to pull into a parking lot and you look at the neon sign. He parks the car and turns to you and looks at your wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” he watches your cheeks redden. 

“I’ve never been here.” you turn to him, chewing your lip. 

“They’re all very similar. I’m sure it’s like the one you go to.” he watches you glance at the store and back to him as he waits for you to say the truth he knows. 

“I’ve never been to one.” you whisper. 

“It’ll be fun. Maybe you’ll see something you like.” he nods encouragingly before getting out of the car. He walks to your side and opens the door offering you his hand. “You can stay by me the whole time.” you blink up at him and grab his hand. 

Your heart is beating so rapidly as you cling onto Aegon's hand as he leads you up to the sex store. He holds the door open for you and you both hand your ID’s to the woman before entering. When you walk in your eyes can’t pick a place to look so instead you look up at Aegon who is looking down at you. 

“Do you want to look at anything?” he watches your eyes widen. 

“I don’t know.” you shake your head and he starts to lead you deeper into the store. 

“Do you have toys or do you use your fingers to play with your little pussy?” he whispers in your ear and he watches your whole body shutter.

“Aegon.” you whine pressing your face into his arm. 

“Hm?” he turns and you bury your head in his chest. “I could see you laid back on your pillows with a pink rabbit. Fucking yourself until you cry.” he hums and you dig your fingers into his hoodie. 

“I don’t.” you shake your head. “I’ve never..” he furrows his brows. 

“You’ve never what?” you groan, flushing even deeper. 

“Touched myself.” you whisper. “Or been touched.”he pulls you back and searches your eyes. 

“You’ve never even tried to touch yourself?” you shake your head. He starts to lead you down to the vibrators and finds a small one and hands it to you. “This will change your life.” you stare at the small box in your hand. 

“I don't know how to use this.” you look up at him and he just nods and leads you around the store to grab his items. Once he leads you to the register he grabs the box from you and has it bagged just for you. “Thank you.” you whisper to him and he wraps his arm around your waist. 

“If you would like anything else just ask me.” he purrs, pulling you out of the store. “Do you want me to show you how to use that?” he motions to the bag as he opens the car door for you. 

“Is it gonna be weird?” you chew your cheek.

“I’ve known you forever.” he chuckles, shutting the door before walking to his side. 

“Exactly.” you turn to him with flushed cheeks. 

“I don’t mind.” he turns to you with a grin. “Or do you not find me attractive?” he tilts his head, searching your eyes. 

“I do.” he smirks at your fast response. “I just..” you glance at him and feel your blush deepen. 

“You just what?” he grabs the bag from your lap. He pulls the box out and starts to open it. 

“I just thought you saw me as like your sisters annoying friend.” you nibble your lip. “But I- oh.” your eyes widen when he turns the vibrator on and you hear the vibrations. 

“I always thought you were just so adorable.” he smirks watching you squeeze your legs together. “Let’s go park somewhere else so I can show you how to use your new toy.” you gasp when he presses it to your thigh before turning it off and leaving the store parking lot. 

“In your car? What if someone sees?” he holds back his groan at your wrecked voice. 

“My windows are tinted.” he pats your thigh and you press your legs closer together. “I’ll park us away from people and we’ll go in the backseat. Trust me no one will see how you spread your thighs for me.” your breath catches as he slides his hand further up your legs. 

“Aegon,” you grab his hand as it slowly continues to creep under your skirt. 

“Hm?” he looks at you squirming in his seat before he starts down the road to the lake. 

You feel heat pool in your stomach at his grip on your thigh and the promise of his words. You’ve been dreaming of him for years, your first crush and you never imagined he would feel anything for you. You’re pulled from your thoughts when his pinky brushes against your center. He parks the car and turns to you with dark eyes. 

“Back seat?” he tilts his head and you nod. You turn in your seat and start to crawl between the seats. “You could stay like this too.” he hums, grabbing your hips keeping you half in the front seat. You feel one of his hands slide over your ass and pull your skirt up so he can see your panties through your tights. “Why were you even wearing this to a movie night with Hel? Hm? Did you wear this for me?” he smirks as you turn back to him with red cheeks looking as if you got caught. “You did.” he grins. “What was your plan?” he watches your cheeks redden even more. 

“Aegon,” you whine when his fingers trail down your center. 

“Were you gonna accidentally walk into my room?” he chuckles when you push back against his fingers.

“No. I had just-“ your body shutters as he presses against your bud. “I had just hoped I would see you after the movie and I don’t know.” you whine when he stops his movements.

“I think you do know, baby.” he chuckles watching you clench your legs together. “Tell me.” 

“You would offer to take me home and you would walk me up to my door,” your voice keeps getting quieter as you watch his smile widen. “You would decide to just come inside with me, to my room and do whatever.” you look over your shoulder at him. 

“I know you have an end to this fantasy and I want to hear it before we do anything.” he squeezes your sides. 

“Aegon,” you whine.

“You have this all planned out. I want to make sure I do it right for you later.” his low tone is causing heat to shoot across your body. 

“Then you come into my room and pull my clothes off and kiss me and kiss me between my legs,” his eyes widen along with his smirk. 

“Kiss you between your legs. Who gave you that idea?” you turn to the back seat, cursing yourself. 

“In the videos I’ve seen.” your voice barely a whisper. Aegon groans thinking about you watching porn and getting worked up before tossing your phone with a furious flush. 

“Get in the back seat.” he gives your ass a small spank and you continue to make your way to the seat once more. He gets out of the car and opens the door to get into the backseat. “I have doors, you know.” he chuckles, shutting the door behind him. “Turn and lean back against the door.” your heart beats wildly at his tone. 

“Like this?” you nibble your lip and cross your legs in front of you. 

“Just like this.” he leans over and scoots you a little further down. “Now open these pretty thighs for me.” he chuckles when you open them just a bit. He scoots closer and moves one of your legs until it’s hanging off the seat and he trails his hand down your other. “On my shoulder.” he pats your thigh. 

“What?” you squeak with wide eyes. You gasp when he guides your leg up and rests your ankle on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna push your skirt up, okay?” you nod. “Are you ready?” he smiles, grabbing the vibrator on the seat. 

“Yes.” you nod quickly as you watch the vibrator in his hand start buzzing as he clicks it on. He watches your face as he trails the head up the insides of your thighs. “Aegon,” your legs tremble and his cock hardens at the sound of his name in your breathy tone. He presses it to your covered bud and you claw onto his hand. “Oh my Gods,” you pant. 

“How does it feel?” he slides it up and down your covered slit watching you squirm in his seat. 

“Good I- yes Aegon,” you whimper as he turns it up a setting. He watches as your other hand claws into his seat while the other stays gripping his wrist. 

“Are you terribly attached to these tights, baby?” he watches you shake your head. “Good.” you hear a tear before the vibrator presses against your panties. “So fucking wet.” he chuckles to himself when he hears your wetness through the thin fabric. 

“Aegon, something- I,” your nails dig into his wrist and he smirks watching your body jolt when high pitched cries come from your mouth. “Please, Aeg-“ a soft cry greets his ears as you fall apart on his seat. 

“Was that good?” Aegon slowly pulls the vibrator away. 

“Again.” you pant, peeling your eyes open. “Please,” you tighten your grip on his wrist. “Please, Aegon.” he groans at your soft whines. 

“Can I take your panties off?” he’s trying to find restraint he doesn’t have. 

“What if I make a mess in your car?” you chew your cheek. 

“That’s preferred.” he grins. “I just wanna see how your little pussy cries for me.” his words go straight to your center and you nod quickly. “Lift your hips for me.” he smiles when you do so and he pulls your tights and panties off in one motion. “My Gods.” he groans looking at your dripping center. 

“What?” you bring your hands down to cover yourself. 

“Oh no, no,” he smiles at you. “I just really wanna put my lips on your pretty little pussy.” he watches your blush revive across your neck. “Move your hands, baby.” he nods and you slowly move them to your thighs. 

He brings the vibrator to your wetness and slides it around before turning it on. He watches your thighs tremble as it rubs against your bud and how tightly you're biting your lip. He flicks it on and groans at the whimper that comes from your mouth. He watches your eyes close and your legs slowly start to close. 

“Aegon, I- I feel,” your chest heaves as he starts to circle the toy around your bud and your head falls back against the window. “Yes, yes, mm Aegon,” he watches your pleasure seep onto his seat with an open mouth. 

“A break,” you pant. “Please.” he flicks the vibrator off and sits back and watches your heaving chest as you come down. You scoot back up in the seat and gasp when you see the wet mark on his seat. “I’m so sorry.” your face burns from embarrassment. 

“Do not be sorry. We’re going to do that again.” your eyes snap up to his. “Come sit with your back on my chest. I’m gonna show you how to do it yourself.” he grins as you start to move. 

“But I liked when you did it.” you whisper as you settle between his legs. He lifts your legs over his and spreads them.

“I’ll help if you need it.” he kisses the side of your neck and you let out a small moan. “For now,” he pushes up your shirt. “I want to play with these.” he engulfs your breasts over your bra and you press back into him. “Grab your new toy, baby. Show me how you're going to play with your pussy when you think about me.” he chuckles at your whimpers.

Aegon pulls the cups of your bra down and has his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples instantly. You bring the head to where he kept it and sigh as you roll your hips against it. You feel for a button and jolt when it turns on. It feels different with his hands on your chest and his lips pressed to your neck. You press the button again to turn it up but it turns off and you hear his giggle at your whine. 

“What’s wrong?” he smiles watching your hips jerk up. 

“I don’t know how to change the settings and stuff.” you reach for one of his hands. “Help me, Aegon. Please. Or just do it yourself.” you plead with a wrecked voice. “Thank you.” you sigh when one of his hands wraps around yours. 

“On and off.” he presses your finger into the button starting the vibrations once more. “Different settings.” he presses your finger to another button. “You can move it around too.” he guides your hand and you whimper. 

“Please can you just keep doing it?” you feel your pleasure begin to build. “Please, please.” your legs shake above his. 

“How could I say no when you beg so sweetly?” he starts to suck and bite at your neck and he circles around your bud. 

“Can I have your fingers instead?” he has the vibrator off and discarded in seconds. “Aegon,” you press back into his as his fingers slide through your wetness. 

“You’re fucking killing me.” he rasps as he starts to quickly circle your bud. “Like this? Is this what you wanted?” he bites down on your neck and a loud moan is torn from you. 

He listens to your noises as he moves his fingers faster. He feels your wetness seeping out of you as you tremble in his arms. His other hand is still kneading your breast and pinching your nipple. You press back into him as you feel your pleasure rushing towards you. You grab onto his wrist and he chuckles seeing your toes curl. 

“Gonna make a mess all over my seat again?” he smirks, listening to your incoherent words. With a small scream you fall apart, crying out his name. “That’s my good girl.” he continues to slowly circle your sensitive bud. 

“Please,” you whisper, digging your nails into his wrist. 

“You did so good.” he hums before pressing his lips to your neck and pulling back to see the mark he left. “Let’s get you dressed. I’m sure Helaena is home by now.” he chuckles when you shake your head. 

“I don’t know if I can hang out with her.” your legs are still trembling as he gently runs his fingers down your thighs. 

“Why don’t you just go watch your little movie and then play out your little idea and I’ll go along with it.” he nods, starting to pull down your skirt from your waist. 

“I don’t have my tights anymore.” you turn to him with a soft pout. 

“Or panties.” he chuckles as your eyes widen. 

“You ripped them too?” you whine. 

“No, I'm keeping them.” he pats your thigh. “I’ll just give you a pair of sweats when we get home. Just make sure to keep your skirt down or everyone will see that your pussy is still crying for me.” your cheeks flush once more. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aegon rushes you into his room, unseen by anyone and rummages through his drawers for a pair of sweats. He walks over to you and pulls your skirt down earning a gasp from you. He helps you step into the sweatpants and walks you to the door and presses his hand against it as you go to open it. 

“While you’re watching your movie,” your breathing deepens. “I’m gonna be in here stroking my cock.” he watches your pupils dilate. “Thinking about you and your perfect little pussy.” you take your hand off the door and turn to him. 

“Can I see?” you push your bottom lip out. 

“Maybe later.” he smirks and opens the door and scoots you out into the hall. 

He shuts the door as you look up at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips. Gods he was sure he was going to come in his pants while you guys were in the backseat, but now he’s left with his straining cock and your wet panties in his pocket. He pulls them out of his pocket as he walks to his bed and collapses back onto it. He pushes his pants down and sighs in relief as his cock springs out. 

He immediately wraps his fingers around his length and he jerks up into his hands. He wraps your panties around the base of his cock and he groans knowing he won’t last. He imagines you laid out underneath him as he slowly pushes into you. How you would claw into his back. Fuck and the way you cry out his name right before you come. 

As he continues to jerk into his hand he’s half tempted to go and drag you out of Helaena’s room. He tightens his grip and swipes his thumb against his leaking tip. He feels his stomach start to coil. “Fuck, just like that baby. Feels so good.” with a low groan he’s spilling all over his hand with thoughts of you kneeling beneath him with an open mouth. 

He pulls your panties off of his cock and throws them over to his pile of laundry before he makes his way to his bathroom. He still can’t believe your little fantasy about him and how you want him to ‘kiss you between your legs’ Gods he’s going to fucking devour you. He cleans himself up before changing and going to wait until your movie is done. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

After an hour he makes his way to the living room to wait for you and Helaena to come out. He does everything to distract himself from thinking about what he plans to do to you later. Your soft cries as he- he hears a door open upstairs followed by laughter and he’s on his feet instantly. He feigns walking from the kitchen as he runs into you getting off the last step. 

“What are you two doing so late?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“Waiting for her uber home.” Helaena rolls her eyes. 

“I could take her. I was just headed out anyway.” Aegon shrugs. 

“Where are you going? Some late night booty call?” he watches your cheeks flush at his sister's words. 

“Yeah and I can drop her on the way.” he scoffs. “If you want.” he turns to you and he watches your eyes go wide. 

“I don’t want to make you late.” you whisper. 

“My cock will still work if I’m a couple minutes late.” he chuckles at your gasp. 

“Aegon, you pig.” Helaena smacks him on the arm. 

“Cancel your uber and let’s go. I’ll even let you sit in the back and I’ll pretend to be your driver.” he smirks starting towards the garage. 

“You can absolutely tell him no.” Helaena watches you look at Aegon. 

“He can’t be worse than that one uber.” you shrug and she starts to smile. 

“That’s true. Be safe.” she hugs you. “And you,” she turns to Aegon. “Don’t be disgusting.” she turns back to you and nods before going back upstairs. 

“Do you want to sit in the backseat again?” he chuckles as he leads you to the car. 

“The front seat is fine.” you shake your head. 

“Mm are you all shy again, baby?” he opens the door for you. “When I know you’re not wearing any panties under my sweatpants.” you chew your lip as you take a seat before he takes his.

“No, I just don’t want to make you late.” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“What do you mean?” he scrunches his brows. 

“For your booty call or whatever.” you sigh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t sound so desperate and needy but like,” you whine. 

“But I like you desperate and needy.” he pats your thigh. “There is no booty call, if you remember I need to take you home in your little fantasy and Helaena would never believe I would offer without another reason.” he leaves his hand on your thigh as he pulls out of the garage. 

“Oh.” you feel your cheeks redden. “Then I’m your booty call tonight.” you nod your head. You curse Helaena for picking some sappy love movie tonight because now your emotions are everywhere. 

“Hardly.” he squeezes your thigh. He doesn’t know why your demeanor changed so much and why his ‘booty calls’ are suddenly an issue. Maybe you feel as if this is mainly one sided? Fuck it, maybe this will cheer you up. “I have a confession of my own.” his eyes slide to you at the red light. 

“What is it?” you turn to him. 

“I have fantasies about you too.” your eyebrows scrunch at his words. “Every time you step foot in the house I have a new one.” he’s enjoying watching you squirm once more in his seat. “And every time I take myself to my room and stroke my cock wishing you would just walk in.” he chuckles at your small gasp. 

“I come over a lot.” you purse your lips. 

“And I come a lot.” he squeezes your thigh as he turns onto your street and parks in front of your house. He turns to you and looks past you to your house. “It’s late, I should walk you to the door to make sure you’re safe.” he brushes your hair back enjoying the way you lean into his hand. 

“You don’t have to.” you blink at him nibbling your lip. 

“I don’t mind.” he turns his car off and gets your door for you. “Let’s get you inside.” he walks next to you closely, allowing his fingers to brush against yours while watching you flush. “Can I come in? I just need something to drink.” he steps closer to you as you reach the door. 

“Yeah,” you nibble your lip. “We just have to be quiet.” you look up at him. 

“I can do that.” he smirks and you turn and unlock the door. You start to lead him up the stairs and he chuckles. “Your kitchen is upstairs?” 

“Shh,” you cover his mouth with your hand. “You’re going to wait in my room while I get you a drink.” you hiss. He nods and follows you up the steps once more. You push open your door and he follows you inside and turns to face you. “I’ll be- 

He shuts your door and clicks the lock before pulling you against him. The air is knocked from your chest and he lifts you up and presses his lips against yours. He walks back to your bed before tossing you back. He lifts you further up your bed and presses himself against you as he claims your lips once more. His hands start to push up your shirt and you gasp at his soft touch. 

“Arms up.” he peels the shirt off of you and is unclipping your bra and tossing them to the floor. “Can I kiss these too? Or just between your legs?” he smirks when you nod your head quickly. 

“Yes, please,” he dips down and circles one of your nipples with his tongue. “Aegon,” you grab onto his shoulders when he flicks his tongue against the hardened peak. 

He can’t help but rock his hips against yours and he groans at your small whine. He licks his way to your other nipple and when his teeth graze against it you bring your fingers to his hair. You softly tug on his hair when he sucks your nipple into his mouth and lashes his tongue against you. 

“In your little videos how do they kiss her between her legs?” he pulls back to look at you. 

“A lot of ways.” your voice breathy. 

“Which one do you want to try first?” he grins. 

“You pick.” you nibble on your cheek. 

“This is still your fantasy, baby. How do you want me to kiss your pussy?” he relishes in your soft whine. 

“Just keep scooting down.” he nods with a smile. When he makes it between your thighs he pulls his sweatpants off of you and looks over you waiting before him. “Then hold my legs up so I can’t-“ you stop yourself. “Hold them up to my chest.” you watch his eyes darken. 

“So you can’t what?” he starts to press his lips against one of your legs as he lifts it. 

“So I can’t squirm away from your mouth.” you whisper and he starts to kiss your other leg while lifting it. 

“Like this?” he holds your legs up pressing his arm to the back of your knees. 

“Mhm.” you poke your head to the side. 

“You’re going to show me these videos later.” he turns his attention back to your glistening slit. 

He licks up your center and groans at the same time you whimper. You reach around for his other hand and pull it up to your breast and he chuckles into you. He rolls your nipple as his tongue circles around your bud pulling a breathy whine from you. He flicks his tongue quicker and feels you start to slowly rock against his face. 

“Aegon,” you fist your sheets as his tongue lashes against you. “Aegon, I’m gonna-“ you bring a pillow to your mouth as your pleasure washes through you. You tremble as he continues to lick as you whimper into your pillow. He pinches your nipple and you arch off the bed, abandoning the pillow. “Yes,” he smirks at your high pitched cry. His tongue moves faster with every whine and soon you’re going taut beneath him.

He moves his hand from your breast and sits up and as you’re about to whine his fingers rub quickly around your bud. He watches your eyes roll back as he hears your pleasure coat his fingers. He’s sure you forgot about this by now so he pulls the vibrator out of his pocket and presses it to your bud and turns it on and you moan loudly before covering your mouth with your hand. 

“This is what you wanted right? Your little pussy crying and sensitive while I hold your legs back?” you nod, rolling your hips. “My Gods what do you watch in bed at night?” he chuckles, turning up the speed. You give one last cry until you’re shaking and clawing at his hands. “Alright, alright.” he turns off the vibrator and tosses it to the side. “Was that everything you dreamed your fantasy would be?” he smirks, setting your legs back on the bed. 

“What if I have more?” you pant, clamping your legs shut. 

“Then we can take turns. We get to do one of mine next.” he lays down next to you and brings your lips to his. “How does this one end? Do I stay or do you kick me out?” 

“Stay and not just until I fall asleep.” you kiss him once more. “Until after I wake up.” he chuckles and pulls your lips against his once more. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

fuck dude maybe one day i’ll write a chill one shot 😔

taglist ✍️

You knew from the moment you saw Aegon stroking his cock out his window when you two were teens this marriage would be anything but normal. He spotted you and waved and you looked away before running into the Keep. When you started up the stairs he stopped you and spouted some half apology before leading you through the halls. The things that came out of his mouth sent a furious blush to your face and left a warmth between your legs. 

You listened to everything he said and when he offered to show you pleasure you were sure your cheeks were on fire. He simply kissed your lips and scooted you into your chambers saying he would see you later. Your mother assured you it would be fine and your handmaidens would gossip and giggle with you about everything they knew of pleasure. 

Aegon was sure he scared you off but he couldn’t help himself. The second he found out you two were betrothed he thanked Gods for blessing him. He slowly coaxed you to open up to him and to his surprise, the week before you wed you asked him to take you to a pleasure house and after that night you became more of a pleasure feind than him.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Every morning you and Aegon have the same routine. Whoever wakes up first fills the empty wine glasses on the side table and then wakes the other. This morning Aegon wakes first and pours overflowing cups before pulling the blankets down your body. He trails his hand up your body and leans down and takes your lips. 

“Wake up.” he presses his lips across your face as you softly groan and reach around. 

“Mm,” you whine. “Where’s your cock?” you grab his face and work down from there. 

“No cheating.” he chuckles and gets back into bed. 

“Why can’t we just change it to touching each other?” you roll over and open your eyes to watch him stroke himself. 

“You just wanna change it because you keep losing.” he’s already jerking his hips up. 

“Well you’re cheating now.” you push his hand away before bringing your hand between your thighs. “You're not making it fair.” your words are already breathy as you circle your bud. 

“Tell me when you want me to start. I don’t mind watching you play with your little cunny.” he grins and props himself up to watch your movements. He watches you dip two fingers into your core and turn to him with lidded eyes. 

“Aegon,” you whine, bucking your hips up. 

“You keep crying my name like that and I’ll come without even touching my cock.” he chuckles at your sigh. 

“Then go.” he watches you speed up your fingers and he grabs his cock once more.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he starts to fist himself quickly. 

“Yes,” you whimper, bringing your other hand down to circle your bud. “Mm,” you turn and look at Aegon who is staring at your hands and with a low groan his come is coating his hands already. 

“I win.” he pants, slowly stroking himself. 

“Yeah but you come if I even look in your direction.” you purse your lips as he pulls your hands away. 

“Well I want my prize now.” he smirks and starts pulling you on top of him. “Sit on my face. Let’s go. Your King is getting impatient.” he smacks your ass causing you to jolt forward. 

“Do not start with the ‘Your King’ stuff this early.” you settle your knees on either side of his face and look down at him. 

“Mm, but your King treats you so well in the morning.” he licks up your slit and you bite your lip to hold back your moans. “Don’t you dare keep your sounds from me.” he spanks you once more. “You say you lose every morning like it’s some punishment to come on my face before you start your day.” he shakes his head and pulls your hips down to his mouth.

His mouth encases your bud and he quickly flicks his tongue against it. You start to rock your hips against him and he moans looking up at you playing with your nipples. He lets out a frustrated groan as you continue to keep your mouth shut and pulls you down even closer. “Aegon,” it's soft but he heard it and it spurs him on even more. 

He lifts your hips up and slams two fingers into you causing you to fall forward onto the headboard. He chuckles when your wetness coats his hand and he lifts up to start licking at your bud once more. “Fuck, my King.” he pushes his fingers in even faster making the only sound in your shared chambers your wetness and soft moans. 

“Yes, I’m- mm, Aegon,” you pant before falling apart on his face. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you watching your grip loosen on the wooden headboard. “I don’t think it’s a punishment,” you look down at him with lidded eyes. “I just really like sucking your cock.” you pout, getting off his face and collapsing back into bed. 

“I will never tell you no.” he pulls you to his lips. 

“Get me my wine.” you mumble against him.

“Of course, my Queen.” he hands you your glass. “You think I can lick your cunny again?” he starts to scoot down the bed. 

“You have a council meeting.” you brush your fingers through his hair. 

“We have a council meeting.” he corrects and leans into your hand. 

“My Gods must you drag me with?” you drain your cup and let it fall to the floor. 

“It’s our duty.” he pulls your legs over his shoulders. 

“It’s your duty.” you glare down at him. 

“But I like when you come with me.” he kisses the side of your thigh. “Please?” he pouts. “Please?” he kisses your bud. 

“Fine.” you sigh and he pulls you against his mouth once more making sure you’re fully satisfied to get through this meeting. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You’re sitting with your head in your hands as some Lord on Aegon's council drones on. Aegon has your chair pulled directly next to his and his hand is gripped tightly onto your thigh. He spins the marble ball on the wood and sighs before motioning for the man to get to the point. You push yourself back in your chair and look up at the ceiling sighing. 

“Might you get me some wine?” you turn to Aegon with a soft pout. 

“Yes of course.” he scrapes his chair against the stone and walks to the table with the wine. He pours the cup and walks it back to you and you look up at him with a smile.

“Thank you, daddy.” you accept the cup knowing you’re soon to get what you want. You smile when he freezes before he takes his seat again. 

“Come here.” he says lowly and you turn to him tilting your head. 

“I’m right here.” you whisper back. 

“If you’re gonna call me daddy you’re gonna sit in my lap.” he hums content when a small flush rises to your cheeks. Your chair is next to scrape against the stone as you stand and he pulls you onto his lap. “That's my good girl.” he settles his hands on your waist. “Continue.” he gestures to his council who is all staring down at the table. 

You squirm in his lap as he starts to pull up your skirts. His rings send shivers down your spine as his fingers sliding up your thighs. You have no care for the councilors at the table when a small whine escapes when his fingers find your wetness. You lean against the table as he starts to play with your cunny. You hear a Lord stutter over his words as Aegon lifts you and fully bends you over the table. 

“Go wait in the hall.” he waves his hand and everyone is shuffling down the stairs and shutting the door quickly. “Or would you have preferred an audience?” he pushes his chair back and lifts your skirts. 

“Anything you want. I just need your cock now.” you look over your shoulder at him. He’s quickly unlacing his trousers and fisting his cock before sliding his tip around your wetness. He slowly pushes in and groans at the warmth. “Thank you.” you whine, clawing at the wood. 

“My sister might hate me but she birthed you just for me. I think you were made just for my cock, you take it so fucking well.” he grunts before he starts slamming into you. “Hugging daddy’s cock so nicely.” he leans over you pressing you against the table. 

“Mm,” you whine as your cheek is squished against the table. “More, more, faster,” he chuckles at your pleas and starts to pound into you. 

“You know they’re all out there listening to this cunny getting fucked by me?” he pulls your hair and lifts your head letting your moans begin to echo off the walls. “Say ‘thank you, daddy, my King.’ Let them hear.” he grunts feeling you squeeze around him. 

“Tha- Aegon,” you squeak and his palm lands on your ass harshly. 

“That’s not what I said.” he grits through his teeth. 

“Thank you,” you pant breathlessly. “Thank you, daddy.” you whine as your pleasure is about to snap. “My-my King, thank you,” you gasp and let your head fall to the table as you come around him. 

“That’s my good girl.” he smirks and hammers into you. “Gonna fill this cunny and call them back in here. They’ll all know you’re leaking with my seed.” he smacks your ass once more before he fills you. 

“Thank you.” you hum as he slowly pulls out. “Thank you.” you whine when he pulls down your skirts and pulls you back and you both claim his seat once more. You’re perched on his lap with flushed cheeks as you bring your wine to your mouth. 

“Come,” he calls loudly to the door. “Let’s finish this meeting.” Aegon smiles as the door groans open. The councilors filter back in and take their seats once more. They avoid looking anywhere but at the marble ball in front of them as the meeting continues to drag on. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aegon has come up with ten different ways you both could sneak out of the dining hall to avoid hearing all of the petitions. At every exit you both try a guard comes around the corner and escorts you back into the hall. You both drag your feet as you’re both next escorted to the throne room. You take your place beside your grandfather and watch as Aegon climbs the steps to the throne. A guard walks to open the doors but Aegon raises his hand to stop him. 

“I’d like you up here with me.” Aegon nods to you. 

“She will remain here. Open the doors.” your grandfather says to the guard. 

“She will come up here or we will hear no petitions.” you bite your lip at his tone. “Let’s go.” he waves at you. 

You hear your grandfather groan as you start to walk up the stairs to him. Your eyes trail over him and stop on his smirk. Not that you don’t mind his slight messiness, but the way he looks when he’s on the throne just does something to you. His hair is somehow perfectly settled when they place the crown on his brow. His clothes somehow lose the wrinkles and become more vibrant. A King. Your King. Your husband. 

“Where would you like me to sit, my King?” he groans at your soft tone. 

“Right here.” he spreads his legs and nods to the stone between them. He holds his hand out for yours and turns you and helps you settle. “You are truly perfect.” he rests his hands on your shoulders and slowly slides them up to your neck. “Open the doors.” he calls down and his guard pushes the doors open. 

The common folk trickle into the hall you lean back into Aegon as he softly strokes his thumbs on your neck. You lean your head back to look up at him and he brings his thumb up to trace your lips. He glances up watching as people begin to take their place and watch as he slips his thumb in your mouth. 

You let your eyes flutter shut as you brush your tongue against the pad of his digit. He slowly pulls his finger out and traces your lips once more before tilting your head up to look down upon your subjects. You catch a couple men staring at you with dark eyes and you smile offering them a small wave. You chuckle when you feel Aegon's hand tighten on the back of your neck.

“I’ll hear the first petition.” you shiver at his voice. 

A man staggers up to the bottom of the steps and you feel Aegon lean over you. He greets him and you let your mind wander to him using that voice on you. He might not like his duties but when he sits the throne it’s as if all those feelings left him and a King takes over. He hears dozens of petitions and you slowly lean back between his legs, growing bored. 

“I have a petition of my own.” you whisper up at him and he grins down at you. 

“Tell your King what you need of him.” he turns all his attention to you. 

“I wish to suck on your cock, my King. I need it terribly.” you softly whine. “I don’t think I’ll survive if I can’t have your seed.” you slowly start to turn and kneel. 

“Just a couple more petitions.” he cups your jaw. “Then I’ll stuff you full.” a whimper falls from your lips. 

“Thank you, my King. You are so generous.” you grab onto his thighs. “I wish to serve you in any way I can.” his eyes darken. 

“Continue with the petitions.” Aegon’s voice rings throughout the hall. 

A couple more petitions have turned into well over two hours. You’re ready to curl up on the ground and take a nap if you must hear anymore. You’re thanking the Gods when your grandfather says that’s enough for one day and everyone begins to shuffle out. You turn back around and grab onto Aegon’s trousers having no care for the lingering bodies. You know once you start they’ll leave with more purpose. 

“What can your King do for you?” he looks down at you and grabs your jaw. 

“I’ve been deprived, my King.” you push your bottom lip out and he smirks. 

“What have you been deprived of?” he grabs your hands reaching for the laces on his trousers. 

“Cock.” he chuckles at your word. “It’s been so long I’m sure my maidenhead is back intact.” you whine. 

“And you offer me your maidenhead?” he pulls you up onto his lap. 

“Yes.” you nod scooting closer on his lap. “Fill me with your seed and I’ll carry your heirs if you’d like.” he digs his fingers into your hips. Your lips crash down to his and he starts to lift your skirts. “Gods Aegon you’re so handsome like this.” you pull back and take him in. 

“You always get so worked up when I put this piece of metal on.” he chuckles, watching you shove your hand down his trousers. “Then ride your King's cock as he sits his throne.” he sits back and watches you with a lazy smile. 

He has your skirts pushed up to your waist smiling that you’re bare underneath as always. He watches you hump against his trousers as you stroke his cock. You let out small whimpers and free him from his trousers. You hold onto one of his shoulders as you like him up with your aching cunny and sit down on his cock in one motion. You place your other hand on his shoulder and start to rock against him. 

“Your cock stretches me so perfectly.” you start to bounce up and down. He reaches up and pulls down the front of your gown exposing your breasts to him. He watches them move with you as you quicken your movements. He reaches up and grabs at the tender flesh and you toss your head back moaning loudly. “Yes, my King.” you grind against him feverishly searching for your pleasure. 

“Look at you fucking yourself against me.” he chuckles pinching your nipples. “Showing your King how devoted you are.” his hands slide back down to your waist and pull you against him. 

“I’ll do anything you ask,” you pant. “Please,” he grabs your hips and hammers up into you. “Yes, I’m-“ a scream rips from your throat. 

“Fuck your cunny feels so good hugging my cock.” he grunts hearing your wetness and the sounds of skin on skin echo throughout the hall. “Squeezing the seed out of my cock on the same throne your child will sit.” he chuckles, snapping his hips up into you.

“Gods Aegon.” you rest your head on his neck.”Yes, fuck yes, please,” he grinds you back down to him, rocking his hips with yours.

“Gonna walk you all the way to supper with my come sliding down your thighs.” he chuckles as you pulse around him again. He slams you down to him as he fills you, holding you closely. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” you whine as he softly jerks his hips up. 

“Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything else.” he pulls your head back and presses his lips to yours. “I’m here to be of service to you.” he mumbles against your lips. 

“Take me to the dining hall and get me more wine.” he laughs into your mouth and lifts you off of him. 

“Of course, my Queen.” he adjusts your seats and pulls you down the stairs.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

After two bottles of wine you and Aegon are left giggling at the table. You’re leaning against him as the table is cleared and you both begin to make your way back to your chambers. He pushes the door open and presses you against it once you’re inside. You reach up for his lips but he presses you back. 

“Let’s go out.” he searches your eyes. 

“Yes.” your eyes darken and you start to pull him over to your wardrobe. 

You pull each other's clothes off, getting distracted to stop and touch and kiss each other. Eventually you both dress and leave out through your chambers once more. Both of you are grabby as you make your way out through the main doors. Once outside of the Keep your mouths mold together. 

“Where should we go?” Aegon fists the back of your gown. 

“Anywhere as long as I can suck your cock when we get there.” you grab onto the front of his trousers and he smirks. 

He tugs you down the steps and you both push into the crowds. He leads you down the alleys and you smile when he pulls you in front of your favorite pleasure house. You pull him towards the bar and soon after he’s pulling you over to a couch. The second he’s on the couch you're palming him over his trousers. 

“Just quick.” you plead. 

He nods at you with a smirk as he brings his drink to his lips. He groans as you pull out his cock and suck the tip into your mouth. Gods you always suck at him so desperately. You place open mouth kisses down the length of him before taking him back in your mouth and lashing your tongue against his leaking tip. 

“Fuck.” he brushes your hair to the side. “You keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You take him to the back of your throat and he groans, digging his fingers into your hair. He starts to move you up and down and you hum letting him control your movements. His hips start to jerk up as his pleasure approaches. Spit is trailing out the side of your mouth and he curses as you suction your cheeks around him. 

“Just like that.” he groans, moving your head faster. You hum around him as you feel him start to coat your mouth. You pull back to just his tip and suck watching his legs start to shake. “That’s enough.” he pulls your head off and you sit back with a wet face and a wide smile. 

“Gods I love your cock so much.” you help him adjust his trousers before getting up to get another drink. As you lean against the wood of the bar you feel him press into you. “Aegon.” you chuckle as he grabs your breasts. 

“Let me play with your cunny.” he kicks your legs apart. “The barkeep won’t get to you for some time.” he moves his hands to start lifting your skirts. 

“I want to drink.” your words still come out breathy. 

“Get your drink while my fingers- 

“What can I get you?” the barkeep approaches with a smile.

Aegon orders for the both of you right when his fingers slip through your wetness. He chuckles listening to your soft whimpers as you press your forehead against the sticky surface. The drinks are dropped off and he watches you slowly lift up and bring the cup to your mouth. You swallow down the contents not caring for the bit of it that spilled down the sides of your mouth.

“Take me home.” you push back into his hand. 

“We just got here.” he chuckles, slowly pushing a finger into you. 

“I wanna fuck you in bed all night.” you gasp when his thumb brushes against your bud as he slips another finger into you. “Please,” you beg. 

“So you can suck my cock in front of everyone but I can’t fuck you in front of everyone?” he whispers in your ear. 

“Fuck me closer to the Keep. I don’t wanna stop once we start.” you bite your lip as he starts to pound his fingers into you. 

“Might as well let you come while we’re here.” he feels you starting to flutter around him and with one spank you’re making a mess on his fingers. “Then let’s go.” he presses a couple coins onto the wood where you were just laying and leads you out onto the streets. 

“Let’s fuck all day tomorrow. No meetings. No petitions.” you shake your head and he turns to you with a smile. 

“We fucked all day today and still did those things.” you purse your lips at him. “Or do you want to sit on my cock during those things? Your King can’t very well abandon his people.” you groan. 

“Aegon the Magnanimous indeed.” you roll your eyes and he pulls you closer. 

You both continue through the streets with wandering hands and whispered words of what’s to come once you're in your chambers once more. The main gates come into view and you race each other through. A laugh is ripped from you as Aegon trips on a step and is brought down upon the stone. You try to help him up but you’re too busy laughing. He purses his lips and pulls you on top of him. 

“This is close enough to our chambers.” his hand buries into your hair and tilts your mouth to his, silencing your giggles. “I’m taking you on the steps and I don’t care.” 

“How generous of you to give your celibate guards a show.” you start to lift your skirts. 

“It’s not for them.” he frees his cock and pulls you further up on his lap. “This is for me.” he lines himself up and sheaths himself inside of you. “Let everyone hear how desperate you are for my cock.” he snaps his hips up into you.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Just like that Aeg,” you bury your head into his neck. 

“No, no, no,” he pulls your hair, removing you from his neck. “Let everyone hear you, my Queen.” he chuckles at the loud moan that greets his ears. 

“Harder.” you whine and his fingers dig into your hips as he slams himself up into you. “Yes, yes, oh Gods please.” you grab your breasts above you groan and he watches you with dark eyes. 

“Already squeezing me so tightly.” he chuckles, feeling your pleasure seep out of you onto his trousers. 

He listens to your babbling as he hammers up into you chasing his own pleasure. You’re practically limp in his arms as he moves you against his cock. When you toss your head back he smiles seeing some of the guards watch before averting their eyes. You fall apart once more as he fills you, pulling your lips back down to his. He slowly lifts you off his cock and you roll over to lay on the stairs. 

“Lets go to our chambers.” he stands and offers you his hand. 

“Thank you, my King.” your words still breathy as he pulls you up and leads you back into the Keep. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

calling aegon daddy in this has me writing a single dad aegon fic rn 🤭 and why am i kind of obsessed 

taglist ✍️