Untitled

Deciding enough is enough, he moves a cushion closer to you.

"Come here," he doesn't let you scurry away when he brings your foot to rest on his lap, carefully loosening the strap and unwrapping the silly shoe from your ankle.

Through the silence of the house and the drunken mumbling from your lips, he admires your heavy eyelids, how they flutter beneath their own weight like butterflies gliding in the spring.

His lips gently kiss your other ankle after finally freeing you from the contrasts of your heels. "You're allowed to let me help, y'know?" he whispers sweetly.

"I don't need help," you nearly hiss, removing your ankle from his grip and planting your feet on the floor again. "I'm plenty capable of taking my shoes off," you drunkenly lie.

And Satoru smiles at you, proud and bright when he nods.

"I know, but I like to do it, too."

He thanks his speed for your lack of pushback when he's able to scoop you from the couch and carry you to the bathroom. Plopping your deadweight on the sink and keeping a steady hand on your waist, he lets you get comfortable on the counter.

Your swollen feet sway as they dangle from the sink, and Satoru bites his tongue from any comment about you looking cute.

He holds up a bottle of what he knows to be your makeup remover, still going out of his way to ask, "It's this one, right?"

"No," you weakly lie.

Satoru sees right through you. "Yes, it is," he gently scolds. "Stop it."

You watch as he soaks a cotton round with the remover, something he's seen you expertly do about a million times before he brings it to your face and raises his eyebrows.

Your whining continues to commence when you dodge his gentle hands, "I don't need help, Satoru."

"I'll be gentle," he breathes.

"I'll kick your teeth in."

"What a sweet girl I have."

This continues for a minute or so before you get tired and malleable enough to just let him do as he pleases. With a final grumble from you, Satoru begins the gentle process of rubbing your skin.

He's cautious, meticulous around the more sensitive areas as he mimics your usual circular movements. He's extra careful when it's time to remove your eye makeup, watching you look up at him for him to gently tap your lids and whisper a soft, "Close 'em."

Remover turns to face wash which turns to rinsing and toner. And throughout the entire process, Satoru has a soft smile on his face, humming to himself as he admires both his work and your face.

"Such nice skin," he presses two fingers into your forehead. "What's your secret? Getting drunk and letting your boyfriend wash your makeup off?"

"No," you sleepily murmur, eyes closed at the relaxing touch, "he always forgets my moisturizer."

"No, he doesn't," Satoru chuckles. "He just likes to make you a little mad."

After eventually completing your full routine, something he will most definitely be expecting praise for in the morning, he softly rubs the remainder of moisturizer on your cheeks and gently smushes them together for good measure.

He uses the opportunity to plant a tender kiss on your lips, and he's thrilled when you only whine and don't push him away.

He smiles halfway through the kiss, pulling away to press a kiss to your cheek and tease, "Mmmm, tequila."

"Want me to brush?" you can barely open your eyes.

"Nah," Satoru shrugs, grabbing you beneath the thighs and scooping you off of the sink, "let's just go to bed already."

In bed, with your cold feet pressed against his calves and his warm hand resting comfortably against your abdomen, he feels you press a tiny kiss to his exposed bicep.

"Thank you for takin' care of me," you whisper, almost as if you're a bit embarrassed to be admitting it.

Tomorrow, you'll blame it on the cocktails consumed the night before, but Satoru knows you. Knows how hard it can be for you to let someone in, let someone help. And every single time, he's willing to fight for it. Willing to coo and purr at your hissed and fanged attempts to scare him off.

Satoru merely hums into your hair, letting himself close his own eyes and sink into the mattress.

"Thanks for lettin' me."

Upon learning the news you had feared Ser Gwayne would be much like his father Ser Otto. However as you were sent to Oldtown to wed him, you were delighted to find out that it was not the case. He did share his father’s sharp way with words and his good education, but he was much gentler. You were almost ashamed of yourself at how enchanted you were with your husband, who was as beautiful as he was galant, with fiery red hair and piercing eyes.

Your wedding night was a delight, although the lack of pain could be explained by the fact that you had lost your virtue to your own twin, Jacaerys, given time and time over in the weeks before your departure for Oldtown. The love the two of you shared had always been apparent, but it had burst into uncontrollable flames at the news that you would be taken from him—Jace was proud and protective, and you loathed to leave him behind.

However you did as you were bid by the King, swallowing your sorrows and ignoring the longing that bloomed like a bush of thorns as the months passed. They were only soothed by the tentative happiness you found in this arranged marriage. Over the months you grew to learn of Gwayne’s ways, of his keen mind and his sharp sense of humor, and a friendship grew that soon turned into trust and the first embers of love.

You found yourself caught between the two loves that inhabited your heart as your twin flew across the realm half a year after you had come to Oldtown and spent a fortnight as a guest. Gwayne was delighted to entertain a prince of the realm, and seeing the two young men side by side troubled you greatly—you felt as though your very soul was split into two.

“I would not break my vows to Gwayne, Jace,” you pleaded one evening as Jace found you alone in one of the parlors and pulled you into a tight embrace. “He is a good man, and although I suspect him of knowing I was not a maid upon our wedding, he has never brought it up against me.”

“Does he please you? Keep you happy?” he asked against your cheek, his breath still heavy from your kisses, his lips flushed a dark pink.

You nodded silently, and the crestfallen look on his face as he pulled away made guilt curl deeply in your gut. “Do you love him?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“Not in the way that I love you,” you pleaded, curling your hands in his doublet, feeling him slip through your fingers. “You are my twin, another half of me.”

“But you have grown to love him, as a wife loves her husband,” Jacaerys pressed, and despite your heartbreak, you found no lies in his words.

“I know this must come as a betrayal to you, and I am sorry for it. I did not mean for it to happen, you know I came here intent on resenting him!” you hissed, and your twin smiled gently, pained.

“He is a decent man and an accomplished knight, I am glad you are able to find love in this arrangement,” he replied, holding on to his values and beliefs, no matter how shattered his heart was. “I should take my leave tomorrow, surely your lord husband will not begrudge me for returning to my duties on Dragonstone.”

That night you cried into your pillow, biting your lips against the sobs that threatened to alert your husband as he settled to sleep beside you. “What has you so crestfallen, my love?” Gwayne asked, curling at your back, but you could not answer. 

He held you as you cried and did not pry, even though he burned to have his doubts confirmed. He had known of your closeness with your brother early on, such was the way of twins, but he suspected your bond to run deeper. He had had suspicions since a banquet held for Prince Daeron’s name day while the two of you were courting, a mere month before your wedding.

He had walked into charged situations a couple of times, always feeling like he was walking in on the tail end of a conversation he was not privy to. It did not help that your twin Jacaerys had spent the banquet looking like he was caught between fury and heartbreak, and was much more curt to him than he ought to be.

Gwayne knew the Targaryens to have queer customs and hold strange traditions, and he supposed the natural bond between dragon twins would favor such an attraction, yet he feared to consider it. You were his lady wife, a young woman of character whom he had learned to adore, and he did not want to suggest such an outrageous thing if it was not the truth.

You had eventually fallen asleep, but as the morning came Gwayne could see you had not rested much, no doubt plagued by what was causing you sorrow. He kept himself busy for most of the morning as the prince’s departure was being prepared, allowing you as much space as he suspected you required to tell him your goodbyes.

He was making his way down to the outer courtyard where the prince’s dragon, Vermax, was waiting, when his eye was caught by two familiar figures hiding in an alcove. The corridor was deserted, and Gwayne stopped dead in his tracks, surprise and something akin to anticipation curling in his gut as he watched the pair of twins. 

He waited with bated breath, and finally, the inevitable, irrevocable occurred—Jacaerys pressed a kiss to your lips, and you surged up against him. It was unmistakably a lover’s kiss, passionate and hurried, and it made his heart ache to witness it. His loins stirred despite himself, and he lowered his eyes as though he was the one being caught in a compromising position before taking a few steps back.

He kept his eyes on the two of you, making sure that he was not seen, long enough to see you push away and turn from him, your hands rising to your face. He walked away, heart hammering in his chest—the confirmation of your bond with your twin did not pain him, he was surprised to find out, but instead left him curious and strangely incensed.

He could not deny the Prince was handsome, with a temper and a wit that he found most entertaining. He was the perfect mirror image of you, with sharper features but the same elegant way to his movements. The pair of you made a striking sight, and Gwayne had considered commissioning a painting of the two of you, to offer you for your name day, only for him to share in the pleasure of gazing upon beauty. 

To see the set of you in the flesh would make an enticing sight, and Gwayne was nothing if not a collector of pretty things.

Jacaerys had been surprised to receive an invitation from Ser Gwayne, rather than you, especially since it demanded that he keep his visit a secret—a surprise for his wife who had been rather morose in recent weeks, the letter said.

“I’m afraid your usual rooms are unavailable, my prince, as a leak from the attic has made its way along the wall,” Gwayne explained as he led him instead to the main quarters upon his arrival. “I have had the rooms next to ours be prepared. After all, you are such a frequent guest, you might prefer a more permanent quarter.”

“Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” Jace replied politely as he was led into a large room decorated with refined taste.

Embroidered tapestries of various shades of green and blue hung on the walls, no doubt reminiscent of House Florent, and numerous settees and lounging armchairs were available. Facing the hearth, a wide poster bed with curtains was pushed against the wall—the one where, on the other side, his sister shared a bedchamber with her husband.

“You ought to call me by my name, we are brothers by marriage after all,” Gwayne said amicably, his head bowing slightly, although there was an edge to it that turned Jace’s blood cold. 

As the man left him to settle and the door to his new rooms closed behind him, Jacaerys rested against them, shutting his eyes against hot tears—there was hardly any doubt left now, the man knew of the feelings he held for his sister, and was intent on tormenting him for them.

However he could not say a word, or chastise him, for fear of revealing his own sister and thus endeavored to bear the concealed japes. He held his tongue through supper, forcing himself to be agreeable for his sister’s sake, but you could tell something was amiss.

Fear of accusations kept him quiet, biting his own tongue—he knew the truth being put into words would be considered a betrayal at the least, and indecency at the worst.

“Jacaerys behaved rather strangely today,” you commented later that night as you removed your earrings and set them down in one of the little dishes on your dresser. 

“Did he?” Gwayne hummed, dipping his face into the back of your neck, pressing kisses to the freckles that bloomed there. 

“Yes,” you answered nervously. You wet your lips and swallowed, feeling your mouth go dry. “You have not quarreled with him upon his arrival, have you?”

“I would have told you. But enough about your brother now, my love,” Gwayne replied gently, pulling you toward the bed and onto his lap before toppling you onto your back. “I have missed your radiant disposition, and now that he is here and all is well, I am intent on enjoying it…”

“Are you saying my mood is linked to my brother’s presence?” you asked, biting your lower lip, as your husband pressed you to the pillows.

“Very much, but I wouldn’t dwell on it. You are twins after all,” he said before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, cutting off any reply you could have had.

It wasn’t long before you were both rid of your robes and your husband was buried deep inside of you, rocking smoothly in and out of your tight heat, pulling delighted sighs from your parted lips.

Gwayne seemed particularly incensed, focused on dragging the head of his cock against the spot he knew made you unravel. The bed creaked as he picked up speed, and you covered your mouth with the flat of your hand to silence your moans.

“Let me hear you, my love,” he said, taking your wrist in hand and pressing it to the pillow, intertwining your fingers.

“He will hear us,” you gasped, already conscious of the way the bed knocked against the wall with each of his thrusts, the very wall where on the other side, Jace slept. 

“Let him hear,” Gwayne replied, then dipped his head to suck one of your nipples into his mouth—he knew how sensitive you were, to the point that he had once brought you to your peak by this mean, without a single touch between your legs.

Shame curled in your core along with your pleasure, and you found yourself caught between your fear of revealing yourself, and the utter temptation of the situation. You knew of your husband’s sense of teasing and flair, but this went beyond what was proper. However your body decided against your reason and apprehension, and soon you were lost to the pull of Gwayne’s mouth and the drag of his cock against your sweet spot.

The more sighs and moans fell from your lips, the harder your husband was thrusting into you, sweat pearling at his temples and pleasure turning his freckles into specks of fire—a jolt of heat went through you as he found his peak once you had reached yours, his groans and whimpers louder than usual.

Such passion left you languid and unwilling to part from your pillow too early the next morning, encouraged by Gwayne, who seemed invigorated. “Stay abed a while if you wish, I shall entertain our guest,” he pressed into your temple along with a kiss.

His vigor carried into the training yard as he invited his good-brother to a sparring match, a way to shake sleep from their frames and get their blood pumping before breaking the fast of the night. Jacaerys agreed, albeit hesitantly, but his competitive nature soon took over. 

A grin etched onto his graceful features, Gwayne was taunting him with his training sword just as he had taunted him the night prior, drawing moans and wails from his sister while Jace laid awake, unable to do anything but listen and wait it out.

Shame was still heavy in his stomach as his desire remained unsatisfied—the peak he had drawn from himself at the sounds of your coupling had barely scratched the surface of his longing. 

He put his frustrations into fending off Gwayne’s attacks, their swords clashing swiftly, and into his own attacks, which were perhaps too bold and vicious for the training yard. However Gwayne was taller and seemingly amused by Jace’s anger, and his frustrated mood eventually became his own downfall as he grew clumsier, until he found himself defeated.

“Have I done something to anger you, my prince?” Gwayne asked amusedly as he held the point of his sword to Jace’s chest, who was lying into the dirt, resting on his elbows.

“Not at all, ser,” he replied, falsely cheerful. 

Footsteps echoed in the small staircase leading down to the training yard, and your joyful tone resonated when you leaned over the railing, smiling at the sight of your brother refusing to take your husband’s outstretched hand. “There you are,” you called. “Breakfast is being served in the solar.”

The meal was a tense affair, and neither your husband nor your twin seemed inclined to speak. Instead they seemed caught in some sort of silent confrontation, Gwayne looking rather amused and conniving while Jace only appeared more upset with each passing minute.

Hot tea was served, along with sweet cakes, and you focused on pouring the hot beverage through the small sieve instead of the two men’s silent sparring. 

“I have an offer,” Gwayne suddenly announced after a sip of tea, startling both you and your twin. You watched as your husband licked his lower lip, then his gaze raised to Jacaerys, piercing and clear. “Join us,” he simply said.

“Join us where?” you asked, a confused smile pulling at your lips as nervousness grasped your heart slightly.

“He knows what I mean,” he replied rather solemnly, his eyes fixed on your twin who rose abruptly,  pushing from the table. Jacaerys was white as snow, looking both rattled and furious, and your smile vanished from your face.

“This jest has lasted long enough, you might have amused yourself but I cannot—” he started, and Gwayne interrupted him gently.

“Do ease, my prince. I mean no offense,” he said, and it seemed to rather spook Jace even more, who swallowed unshed tears.

“I don’t understand,” you pressed. 

“I am aware of the bond you two share. I witnessed your—” Gwayne said, then licked his lips, gesturing with his hands as though he was picturing the scene again. “Your parting kiss, the last time your dear brother visited.”

Your heart sank at this revelation, your breath vanishing from your chest; your mouth dropped open to catch it, but instead you choked on it, your hand reaching for Jace’s arm. You could not look at your husband, for shame consumed you, and you feared to see revulsion on his handsome features.

“I should not have toyed with you to this extent, my prince, it did not mean for it to seem so cruel. Please forgive me,” he said, and you could hear no lie in his voice—your gaze rose to him and through your tears, you tried to decipher his intentions.

Jace shook his head, looking down in shame. “You had every right. She is your wife.”

“And she is your twin,” Gwayne said with conviction, as though it explained everything. “I understand it pains you to be parted, and I am not completely unfamiliar with Targaryen customs.”

“Husband, what are you saying?” you said with waveringwords, wiping your tears on your sleeves. Across from the table, Gwayne was looking at you tenderly, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I have always prided myself on being a generous lover. I would not stand between the two of you, be the reason why your love remains… unfulfilled,” he explained, then a small smile appeared on his face, kind and benevolent. “Although I can only guess it was fulfilled, in the past.”

“Before we were wed, never after,” you rushed to reassure him, but he did not seem to give your words much thought.

Instead he turned his piercing gaze to Jacaerys once more, who appeared to be frozen in his spot. “You are quite pleasant to look at, if you would allow me to say so, my prince,” he started. “And you might blame my vanity and frivolity, but I take immense pleasure in collecting handsome things.”

“Are you suggesting Jace joins us, in our bed?” you asked hesitantly, your grip on your twin’s arm tightening. 

“Yes, that is one option,” Gwayne replied, bringing his teacup to his mouth once more. “If you would prefer me not to be present, I’m sure I can find duties to attend to.”

“You would give us leave to…” Jacaerys said, sitting back down tentatively, his wrists turning in your grasp until your fingers intertwined.

“To live your love as you wished,” Gwayne continued, his eyes briefly glancing at your joined hands atop the table. “You have a permanent residence here if you so wish it, and are welcome to my wife’s bed as much as you desire.”

The pair of you watched him, slightly amazed at the proposal, and you almost wanted to laugh at the surreal situation your husband had pushed you into. “Although we might need a second room… A man needs a bed to sleep in, if his is occupied,” he added with a touch of humor, hiding his smile in his cup, and you bolted from your seat to round the table, coming to his side. 

To his surprise, you dropped to your knees, grabbing his free hand and pressing it to your lips. “Husband, I thank you, and I am in your debt,” you vowed.

“You are not, my love,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything to keep you happy.”

The darkest hour of the night later found you and Jacaerys huddled under soft, silky sheets, defiling your marital bed, with your own spouse’s enthusiastic permission.

That fact alone was a thrill you had never expected, and the utter joy of being reunited with your twin had only added to it. Jacaerys had taken you a first time with unconcealed longing and relief—you could hardly believe you were one with him again. 

The languid kisses of your afterglow had slowly turned passionate again, and he was teasing his length along the cleft of your cunt when a quiet knock startled you. You both untangled yourselves and sat up, pulling the sheets at your waist—it’s Gwayne, you whispered to Jace, who relaxed slightly. 

“I hope I am not interrupting,” your husband said in a quiet voice, as though he was entering a sanctuary. 

“Not at all,” you replied, sitting up against the pillows, your flushed chest bared to both men’s gaze—it was unfamiliar to be so exposed, but you felt safe while in their company, even though you were still amazed at the ease of your husband in this situation. 

“I simply came to fetch—” he said, reaching for the dresser, but your twin interrupted him. 

“You might stay,” Jacaerys offered tentatively.

“The bed is large enough for three to sleep, I suppose,” Gwayne said, sitting at the foot of it. The room smelled of sweat and musk, and the scent got stronger at its source, where it was permeating the sheets. His loins stirred as he leaned against the bedpost, considering the two of you.

“If sleep is what you wish to do then we would not keep you awake, but that was not what I had in mind,” Jacaerys said with the hint of a mischievous smile.

“A most enticing offer,” Gwayne remarked as he stood up and rounded the bed, pulling the armchair he kept near his bookshelf closer. “By all means then, carry on, if you do not mind a spectator for now,” he said as he sat, crossing his legs at the ankles, resting them on the edge of the mattress. “I did interrupt you, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” you said, biting your lower lip as a genuinely happy smile pulled at your lips.

“Would you show me what I interrupted?” he asked then, his tone darker. 

Jacaerys and you shared a smile, then a deep, slow kiss before he settled atop you again and pushed into you in one, smooth stroke. The slight stretch was comfortable and you allowed yourself to sigh aloud, sinking back into the sheets as your twin thrusted into you. 

“By the Gods you are a marvelous sight,” Gwayne murmured—the long lines of Jacaerys’ legs and back were cradled between your creamy thighs, your knees hooked at his hips, your ankles curled together. Your twin’s dark curls fell into his eyes as he thrusted into you, and you were quick to push them behind his ears, holding his head like a lifeline. 

With his eyes Gwayne followed the path of your hands, from the luscious mane to the back of your twin’s neck, then down the wave of his spine, pressing down his lower back, guiding his thrusts. He uncrossed his legs, unable to help his own hands wandering, up his thighs and in the crook of his hips were his cock was filling. He pressed his palm down on it, parting his lips on a breathless sigh and your gaze turned to him.

“Husband,” you called in a whine as Jace sucked a kiss into your neck—the sight of your spouse watching your own twin take you while he teased himself was proving to be your undoing, and you could hardly remain coherent, let alone alert.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to Jace’s mouth and hips, and to Gwayne’s gaze and words. “The pair of you are the most beautiful, most arousing sight I have ever laid eyes on,” he praised, and Jace’s back erupted in shiver under your hands. Your fingers tightened at his hips, your cunt clenching around him as you whimpered.

“Harder,” Gwayne suddenly ordered, pulling a grunt out of Jace as he sped up, and you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, as he obeyed the orders of your husband. One of your hands flew out, grabbing and pulling the sheets in frustration when you could not reach him.

“My sister wants you to join us,” Jacaerys gasped, his eyes throwing a dark look over his shoulder, and Gwayne felt a thrill at this glimpse of the prince’s fire. 

The way he had referred to you didn’t go unnoticed but instead of making possessiveness erupt in him, it sent another shiver down Gwayne's spine—to see his precious jewel in the arms of another man was heady and addictive, and he knew he would be forever changed by it.

“What does my prince want?” he replied, almost a croon. 

He did not wait for an answer, instead he unfolded his long frame and pushed from his seat, working the laces of his shirt and trousers easily—they came off in soft sounds drowned by the subtle creaking of the bed and your sighs of pleasure. You whined again as your husband stood in all his glory, his long fingers cradling the length of his cock loosely, working his hand from the nest of red curls at its base to the weeping tip.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Jacaerys slowed his pace, unwilling to see it end too soon. Restraining himself was agony, especially under the watchful eyes and praiseful words of your husband, but as he followed your gaze, a thrill went through him.

He had never been one to find charm in a man, but he had to admit the Hightower lord was a lovely sight to behold, and he could not fault you for falling for him. His pale skin was flushed pink at his cheeks and chest, his red hair falling into his eyes, his slim frame quivering slightly as he stroked his cock slowly.

“Your prince wants you to take your place at your princess' side,” he instructed gently, and grateful tears came to your eyes. Gwayne smiled and complied, letting go of his cock as he came to sit on the side of the bed where you could finally reach him.

Your nails scratched his arm in an effort to pull him to you, and soon he was stretching his long frame alongside yours. You clenched around Jace’s cock as Gwayne slanted his mouth over yours, kissing you with expert passion.

“Watch as I make her come undone,” Jace whispered, incensed by the way your body was growing taut under his, a sign of the mounting pressure in your core. “What a marvelous sight indeed,” he added with unconcealed awe, witnessing the obvious love between you and your husband.

He dipped his head slowly, allowing either of you to push him away, and as neither of you did, pressed his lips to the corner of yours, where they were still locked with Gwayne’s.

The older man made a pleased sound, then broke the kiss only to press his lips to the side of Jace’s jaw, chaste and tender. “How does it feel to be inside of her again?” he asked, both serious and teasing, and the sight of both your lovers hovering over you was proving to be your undoing.

“I am on my knees with gratitude,” he answered impertinently, and Gwayne chuckled.

“Gods have mercy, please,” you whined, rocking your hips desperately, grinding your core against your twin’s abdomen—his pace was torturously slow, only just enough to make you dance on the edge. 

“She does beg prettily, doesn’t she?” Gwayne asked—he was the most brazen of the two, but you could tell a fire laid dormant behind Jace’s eyes. Your embraces had always been forbidden, hurried, but now that you were free to explore your love and enjoy each other’s skin, you were curious to find out what sort of passion lurked in his bones. 

Gwayne’s hand curled around his own cock again, his mouth dropping open on languid sighs. Your eyes flitted between his face and that of your twin, unable to decide, until you finally closed your eyes to the onslaught of pleasure as Jace picked up his pace. You could tell from his soft grunts and the subtle shaking of his thighs that he was reaching the limit of his patience.

Gwayne bit his lip, heat flashing through him and making his cock throb in his hand as you arched your back, sweet moans falling from your mouth. He saw the moment your twin brought you to your peak, your moans turning to silent screams, your thighs quivering around his hips—Jace was groaning through his teeth, and it was with a sob that he pulled out as soon as you settled again, spending across your belly in violent ropes of white. 

“Gwayne,” you whimpered, looking down between his legs as the last quivers of pleasure shook you.

You looked aside at your twin in slight hesitation, but he smiled and stretched his slim frame along your side. You leaned into him as he curled a hand under your thigh, inviting your husband to take the place he had been enjoying mere seconds ago. 

“I would not overwhelm you,” Gwayne whispered as he kneeled between your parted knees.

Jacaerys watched, a scalding blush erupting all across his face. You smiled at him, bright and victorious, as Gwayne found his pleasure in the cradle of your hips, burying his moans in your neck. You were wet and pliant under him, languid from your recent peak, and you welcomed Jace’s gentle kiss as Gwayne rocked into you.

“Skorkydoso gevie se lanta hen iksā hēnkirī. Zȳhon perzys iksis isse zȳhon ōghar, issa iā sȳz iderennon syt ao. How beautiful the two of you are together. His fire is in his hair, he suits you,” Jacaerys said, tender and solemn.

“Perzo vūjita. Kissed by fire,” you crooned, your fingers tangling in Gwayne fiery strands, pulling them gently as he stilled in your arms. He had not an inkling of what your twin had said to you, and what you had replied, only that the High Valyrian had rolled off him like a lover’s caress.

He groaned as he spilled inside of you, aware of the dragon prince’s envious gaze on him, and the mere idea of allowing him the same pleasure next time was a thrill. He longed to watch the two of you again, to praise and guide you, and to see your reaction as he encouraged your twin to spill inside—that particular taste of the forbidden was one he would not deny himself, or Jacaerys. 

He knew it would be glorious to watch, as would many other kisses and caresses. His mind was reeling, filled with them and he was eager to share them with the two of you. “May this night be the first of many,” he sighed as he laid at your side, a bone-deep satisfaction spreading along his limbs.

Mindless of the mess on your skin, you curled at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as Jacaerys molded along your back, hooking his own chin over your shoulder. Gwayne’s arm laid trapped under you, his fingers reaching along the side of your twin’s neck and upper back. The young prince shivered, pressing his hips into you as Gwayne teased the curls at his nape tentatively.

“How many nights of this will there be?” Jace asked, and you smiled at his need for reassurance.

“It is as I said. I would not keep the pair of you apart,” Gwayne said, his eyes fluttering close as you nuzzled into him. The combined smell of his sweat and that of Jace was slowly lulling you into a state of near slumber, your limbs growing heavy, pressed between their bodies. 

Jacaerys pushed himself on his elbow, his head resting atop yours, close enough for Gwayne to feel his breath when he spoke. “Surely rumor will stain us,” he whispered regretfully.

Gwayne said nothing, instead glancing at a tapestry in the corner of the room where he knew a hidden door laid, used by the previous generation to connect the two rooms that used to be nurseries. “I will protect you,” he replied, and you made a small sound of approval. He kissed your forehead at that, his face pressing closer to Jace’s for a moment. 

“Many men in this realm find their pleasure in the arms of whores or mistresses. Many ladies find similar contentment with lovers,” Gwayne explained, reaching up with his free hand to tuck a stray curl behind Jace’s ear—the young man stayed still, not leaning into him, but not rejecting the touch either. “It is the way of the world, but this is different…”

“We came into this world together, we belong together,” Jacaerys said, his hand curling possessively at your hip, his tone sealing the finality of this arrangement. 

Gwayne only smiled, a gentle laugh building in his throat—he would gladly keep the two of you here, wrapped in lace and silk until the end of times, simply for the thrill of seeing twin flames dance together, and the selfish desire to know the intimate ways of dragons.

Dividers by @/saradika

Author's Note: Thank you to all the anons who gave me the idea for this fic, and even for some of the scenes. Thank you for all the asks, the unhinged thoughts, the wholesome ones... This fic is yours ♡

Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for reading the smut over and making sure it make sense.

Comment if you'd like to be tagged in a sequel.

Gwayne Taglist: @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose @multyfangirl @purple-1995 @tumblin-theworldaway

@caterina-caterina @oldtowrs @targaryenswhxre @tabiitha @lothiriel9

@thenameswinter99 @maeriontargaryen @peachysunrize @majoso12

Jacaerys Taglist: @aegonswife @hobisinterlude @bunbunbl0gs @brevlada24

@thenameswinter99 @v0relino @jacesvelaryons @nanaldy @multyfangirl

@fallout-girl219 @cookiesnfeesh @notvitocorleone @ghostface-00 @justbelljust

@lechat-rouge @ladyofvelaryon @alrightyxaphroditee @poetatorturadaa @nanaldy