dohaeras | open post/cont. threads etc

[ He does not open the video while at lunch with Aemond's father, but the soft ping from his phone letting him know that it's there waiting for him is a source of smug pleasure. Daemon waits until he's back at work and alone in his office (large, private, a secretary posted outside, who cares what he does). The voice changer is somewhat disappointing, if expected. He enjoys imagining what he really sounds like, and exactly how performative it is— young and clearly eager, there's no faking his erection and the precome. Probably came anyway.

Daemon rewatches with the sound off as he touches himself, slow and steady. Considers the over-use of Daddy, and how much is marketing for that sugar baby tier subscription, versus how much it might also be a very real kink for his nephew. Clearly not opposed to fucking family for pleasure without the goal of passing on their genetics, given Laenor's involvement.

He should send the kid a serious donation and then ghost. This is trouble from neck to toes.

Instead he waits a day, and asks for another video. This time, when the courtesy check for preferences comes in, he says he doesn't mind what the content is. A lack of direction is potentially annoying, but he's curious what'll happen. A lackluster video, merely options he didn't choose last time, or an insistence to make the bloody order? ]

[ It doesn't do to dwell on why a subscriber isn't asking for more after going for a video, usually that's all they wanted in the first place, but it is annoying that Aemond has to wait a day before he gets another request. He expects a photo yet it's another £100, a Do-What-You-Want vibe in the email, and he hates that he has to guess what some paypig loser forking out for young ass wants when it's all so easy to streamline so that his time is his own. That's the whole point of the fucking process —

He rolls his eye and figures something out, moodiness leaking into the scene. This time he's in bed and the lighting is natural, he's touching himself under the sheets and complaining about how cold he is. All alone, poor thing. His face is unseen but the pout in his voice can be heard, playing the part of being abandoned for a day by his uncaring Daddy. He makes sure to play with his nipples and get them hard, long hair tangled between his fingers as he does so with a tug that draws out a sharp gasp; he never stops jerking off but that's a baseline, background constant to the way he writhes demandingly, only ending the recording when his breathing shortens and hips arc off the mattress. ]

[ Cute. Clearly annoyed, but not enough to diminish getting hard for the money.

Not nearly so much of a wait this time, between requests. In fact, it's not quite an hour before the next one comes through, again a video, and this time, a query— would he be willing to take more specific instruction, outside of the standard options? Without infringing on set parameters, of course. Implying the obvious: no attempts at getting him to show his face.

He offers to pay more. It's only polite. ]

[ Feeling pretty smug, he responds in kind: yes, he's willing to take instructions, yes, yes, yes. He accepts an extra £50, because it's his right, and then texts Helaena asking if she wants to go to breakfast in town tomorrow morning, his treat. Amid chatting with his sister (mostly via emojis on her part) he waits for the response from RoguePrince and makes himself a smoothie with the fresh fruit bought two days ago. ]

[ The £50 is sent over, and is the request—

He would like SilverWings to be bent over, recorded from behind, knees spread. He should get himself hard, then stop touching his cock entirely, and play with his hole in between slapping himself on his arse. The intensity is up to him, but some color to his skin would be appreciated. No further attention to his cock. Any duration he sees fit.

(If the vibe is that he's being cheekily punished for being in a bad mood, well.) ]

[ Throwing his head back on a laugh as he reads, he finds his ringlight and sets up the new scene while sipping on strawberry and banana. What a predictable old man, he supposes, wanting to make him suffer for being a needy baby. Filming takes over an hour because he draws out the teasing and decides to add in a dildo with which to play with his hole (no rules said he couldn't), giving the illusion on being fucked for being bad as he rakes his nails up a cheek and smacks hard, breathless whenever he's heard gasping. When he starts to come the shot is of him tightening up around that faux cock, other hand holding himself open with his whole backside as rosy as flowers and nearly as blushingly bruised.

No actual comeshot, of course. Even a mad Daddy doesn't get that.

He takes a hot shower afterwards, curling up on his side on the couch with a hot water bottle in the dip of his spine, half-hoping he isn't asked for another video in the same day. ]

[ Really went to town there, nephew.

Daemon jacks off over it. He doesn't, often— appreciating this sort of thing like he might museum pieces. (Let's be real, he might jack off in a museum, given the opportunity, just for the filth of it.) He could leave feedback, he supposes; there are posts with comments enabled, and he could send a message.

But he doesn't. Too tacky. RoguePrince never says a thing outside negotiation emails concerning purchases, and never offers any personal flourishes.

After that it's back to photos, for a while, and one more video the week after, though he innocently selects something ordinary off the menu, with no additional requests. The next month's subscription cost comes through, and Daemon finds himself wondering what the endgame is, here. If there is one. He's been invited to a large family dinner in a week, and if he has any shred of decency left in him at all, he should probably cancel the subscription before, and spare himself the inevitable emotional weirdness of making the decision after. (He knows himself. The weirdness will occur.) (Probably a therapist could come up with a better word than 'weirdness', but he's never going, so.)

But he isn't decent, and never has been. He sends an absurd £500 tip two days before the dinner, with no attached message. The morning of, he purchase a photo, and asks for a picture of his hands.

He goes to the dinner. ]

[ Aemond has never has so many requests before, even with multiple clients. He spends his time thinking up new scenarios for videos (one in the shower sinking back on the rubber cock stuck to the wall, another on his couch in the sunshine to give off the impression this is a real relationship and he's just some guy's boyfriend sending horny recordings instead of being paid for it) whereas the pictures he stockpiles. It means he doesn't have to stop in the middle of his day and can just shoot them off within a few minutes of the requests, wondering if RoguePrince is making his own little folder to sell on Reddit later.

£500 completely throws him off his game and he panics to see he has no lurid shots left in his album, sending a photo of his hands (balancing his phone on auto-countdown with his chin and collar) folded on his black jeans, en route to the family dinner. He's on a train, clearly going about his day, and can't be faulted. If RoguePrince kicks up a fuss, fuck that guy.

At the dinner he is, predictably, assaulted with theories from his nephews while the so-called adults call them to be seated. Thankfully (mercifully) Aegon is less inclined to rip him a new one in front of the others in person and instead starts teasing Jace, Why are you so obsessed with it being Aemond, though? You know that wigs exist, right? You could always put one on your girlfriend if you need to pretend —

Alicent shuts it down before Jace can retort.

Aemond sits in relative peace between Aegon and Helaena, picking at his food and answering questions from Viserys about how his part-time job is going. To the rapt attention of everyone (awkward, wow) he calmly replies he's working in retail and it could be worse. Crisis averted. Does he look at Daemon? Not more than a glance or two, an old stamped-out crush left aching whenever he does, more interested in reminding Luc how short he is by asking if he needs any discounts in the children's section. A short but furious argument ensues where Luc shouts while chewing and Aemond riles him futher by asking if he would like a bib.

Only Helaena, Rhaena and Baela behave with any maturity as the boys descend into quarrelsome chaos. ]

What exactly is Aemond being accused of, again?

[ —Hello.

Daemon hasn't spoken up through much of the dinner, preferring to keep his conversation quiet, between his brother and niece-wife. He sits with a hand resting at the back of her chair, now and again, though now he's leaning back and absently turning a spoon end over end against the table, long fingers and the rings he wears moving lazily. He looks at his nephew, but doesn't pin him with gaze, instead turning his attention back to Viserys when his brother begins to protest the topic, exasperated. It's made clear through crosschatter that Daemon has already heard, but his point is: ]

It's too bad it isn't true, I thought I'd have company in those particular ranks. [ Daemon! is Aunt Maegelle's response, hands over her face, aghast. Viserys groans. ] What?

[ Viserys points out that their father had paid quite a lot of money to get Daemon's sex tape removed from circulation before it could hit the news in the early 90s, and Daemon just laughs. Alicent is chugging wine. ]

Yes, and then I sold it to a private collector for three times as much when he made me 'get a job', it was a stunning investment. [ An eruption of sound, including Baela complaining at him in French, which just makes Daemon laugh. Long-scrubbed family indiscretions from before the dawn of everything being catalogued online. Rhaenyra is trying not to laugh, and even Viserys gives up and just rolls his eyes, good-natured. ] It's a shame about the internet, do you know how much we used to be able to extort out of paparazzi—

[ Aemond, successfully saved from the fire for an hour at least, with everyone distracted by tales from the crypt, when tabloids still existed and had occasion to hound heirs to the last dynastic breeding programs out of the old world. ]

[ At first he tenses, the bloody topic never seeming to die off (to Jace's delight, clearly believing his stepfather is on his side to rankle Aemond). What follows is the weirdest story that he and Aegon have never heard, the latter protesting loudly that sex tapes never die, that's gotta be on the internet somewhere! to then get jeered at by Jace for Why are you so obsessed with finding Daemon's tape, Aegon? It is fuel for the fire, yet it leaves Aemond strangely out of the firing line and his gaze flits between his nails and his uncle, mildly confused. Daemon doesn't have any reason to help him out, it must be just banter springing up because of the stupidity of the topic at large ...

His phone pings with a notification and he sinks back in his chair to check it, letting Aegon involuntarily cover him when his brother leans over the table to continue his 'discussion' with an animated Jace.

It's not RoguePrince, it's someone else. He was weirdly prepared for his newest subscriber but this one (a regular nonetheless who is apparently bored at his holiday home) makes him feel so inconvenienced, frowning at the app; Aemond closes it down and shoves his phone in a pocket, apparently looked annoyed enough that Alicent claps her hands and waves Aegon back into his seat for bothering him. Aegon checks him with a wtf? expression and he shakes his head minutely, both of them exasperated.

He sneaks a look at his uncle again. ]

Edited 2022-12-14 11:15 (UTC)

[ There are clips online, grainy and old, off of a VHS recording; brief interest in it reared up when he married Rhaenyra to great scandal, but his socialite star has faded in his old age, and his wife's mommy blogger fame doesn't cultivate the right kind of audience to obsess on it.

When squabbling kicks up again, Daemon loudly suggests that Aegon and Jace each make pornographic offerings and see which one gets more traction online, and that's the sign for everyone to be cut loose from an obligation to stay chained to the table. The religious women should be spared, at least, before someone faints. Jace and Luc are condemned to their rooms like they're both five-year-olds, but that's Rhaenyra's parenting. All the girls decide to go sit in the back garden with their feet in the spa, and idk, Otto's not here, maybe he died mad.

In between: Daemon catches a sneaked look.

A flash of curious interest, quickly replaced by a half-smile that's at least partway apologetic. Since, as established, Aemond is not engaging in online sex work, and thus probably doesn't want any commiserating looks from his so-often-exiled uncle. He turns back to Viserys, and pours them each another glass of wine.

CYOA:

1) But later, Daemon wanders the estate where he grew up, and finds himself in the library.

2) Everyone goes home and we are back to OnlyFans chicken. ]

[ It isn't quite a smile, more of an awkward grimace as he leaves the table to let the Old Men(TM) talk. Hounding Aegon, he catches him in a corridor after an hour of agonising over wanting advice and drags him into the library where no one ever goes. There, he admits it's true, and the account is his.

Aegon barks out a laugh and then transforms into something he very rarely is, an actual big brother who tells Aemond That's so stupid, what if anyone finds out? What if they see your face! You've been sending porn to limp dicks? Fucking hell, why didn't you just ask me for money!

Aemond snaps back that it's damn good money (when it actually comes in) and he isn't sure how long he can keep it up. Father let you back after a month, it's been six for me. It's such a weirdly frustrating subject and Aegon is so torn between disgust and protectiveness that Aemond ends up with his head on his shorter brother's shoulder, an arm around his back. Don't fucking do it again, Aegon says. I'll, I don't know, I'll ask dad if you can come back. He's got to be drunk by now. What the fuck does he want you to prove? Oh my god, you're so smart but you're a fucking idiot.

I have to send some other stuff off tonight.

You're going to do porn in the house? Aemond, as much as I am revelling in how fucking out there you're being, don't do that.

The last guy tipped me five-hundred!

... Oh, well. Maybe take a couple of photos then.

Are you going to help or are you going to tell Jace?

Don't be a fucking tool. I'll go talk to dad now, stay here. Do not jack off!

I wasn't going to!

And Aemond is left in the library as his big brother, only useful 5% of the time, leaves to do as he promised. He turns around and rests his wrists on the shelf above, leaning into his arms with an annoyed sigh. ]

[ Gurl.

The library door closes, Aemond settles, and Daemon, hilariously, considers the merits of just never moving from the upper terrace, feeling a pang of guilt for overhearing. Viserys, what on earth are you doing to the poor kid. ]

You should have done that in your room, [ he says. ] What if I were your mother.

[ Or Jacaerys. Imagine. Daemon gets up from the chair he'd been in, and leans over the railing. Hello again. ]

[ JesusChristMaryJosephDragons. Aemond startles back and bangs his head on the opposite stack in a hurry to look up, yelping. His heart is in his throat, cheeks reddening when Daemon looms over the railing. ]

It's not — [ What it sounded like. ] I wasn't — [ Being a complete whore for money. ] Umm.

[ Fuck. There's real alarm in his eyes as he stares up, grimly imagining Daemon telling everyone as soon as the opportunity arises. ]

[ He doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing. Oof.

Instead he shakes his head and tsks. ]

Don't look at me like that, not after dinner. [ Sex tape! Implication of there being horrible paparazzi shots somewhere! (There are. His dick, a yacht, an Italian magazine. The splash page might have called him a rogue prince.) ] You're of age. It isn't illegal, and I don't personally have any ethical objections, anyway.

[ He descends the little spiral staircase, book abandoned. ]

Just a pity you're doing it because you have to, and not because you're a young man and it's fun and lucrative.

[ Daemon ought to spend a day outside himself to get a sense of how threatening his own aura is, sex tape or not. Aemond swallows and folds his arms, glancing around after Aegon to see if anyone else has entered, but his uncle has a line of sight on that when he turns around to face him (and maybe he'll have a shred of pity to let Aemond know should someone else pop up unexpectedly). ]

It is. Both of those. [ Words turn to breadcrusts in his mouth, too dry. He clears his throat and tosses his hair, trying to look as unaffected by being overheard as he very much isn't. ] I don't hate it, it's just ... time-consuming.

[ That's part of it, anyway. ]

[ Pfft, what's threatening about Daemon 'I want to top a top' Targaryen? Peaceful vibes. He was in here minding his own business.

No one else is about. Mindful that Aegon could be returning any minute (Viserys went to bed, and if he's not asleep, he's probably still getting chewed out by Alicent for having invited Daemon and Rhaenyra over), he doesn't linger coyly. He approaches his nephew—

A little too close, perhaps. Getting a look at him. ]

In demand, are we?

[ Attaboy. ]

[ It's a lot easier to be smooth and disconnected with the gulf of the internet between himself and other men, less so when one is prowling close enough that he can smell the wine on him. Not even that much of it. His back straightens against the shelves, chin cocking in defiance of being teased (he hates that more somehow, the insinuation he might not be a fantastic whore if he set his mind to it). ]

I have enough clients to have kept food on the table thus far, uncle.

[ Why is he even bragging? This is what a conversation with Daemon does to you. ]

In case you're wondering, yes, I'm sure my performance has far outstripped your dated tape.

[ Provoking shit just wants to hurl itself from his lips at his uncle, he's not at fault. ]

[ How beautiful, Daemon thinks. The same irritation at being inconvenienced, and pride at being challenged. Except he gets to see it through the awkward tensions of familial drama, and not a headless, audio-distorted presentation of Aemond fucking himself. ]

I should hope so, [ he says, and he drags his gaze over his nephew head to toe, the sexually charged nature of it plain. ] You know you're being observed. And you have total control over the distribution.

[ Sort of. He hadn't chosen to share with his uncle.

Daemon steps back. ]

Do you want to stop doing it?

[ There's a lot of Targaryen in front of him and all of it seems to want to eat Aemond up, not that he feels opposed to being dessert if that's the look he gets beforehand. His throat has never been so dry, wetting his lips with a flick of tongue.

His body-language echoes Daemon's, not quite stepping forward but neither leaning away. ]

I don't want to do it with just anyone.

[ It's not a bad way to make money and he enjoys the general performance, it's simply exasperating catering to different people. If he could enjoy himself and not have to worry about his bills depending on how attractive he looks, it would go back to being fun like in the beginning, before he ran out of money. ]

And it's ... a cleaner arrangement than a relationship.

[ He's kind of shitty at those. Cash for sex? Everyone is happy. ]

[ Daemon watches Aemond lick his lips, obvious about it, and gives him a little smile. Hmm, tired of watching all his relatives and their messy love lives? That's funny.

A pause, considering, and then he reaches out and takes his nephew's chin in his hand, looking at him closely. Barely any touching, just the crook of his fingers and the press of his thumb, but it feels intimate for how much he shouldn't be doing it. ]

You've become a distracting young man, nephew.

[ Not a kid with a crush anymore. ]

[ How on earth anything distracts Daemon from Rhaenyra, Aemond cannot guess. He has to blink under such point-blank flattery, lips parting as the touch to his chin, though light and nothing more than coaxing, burns him to the bone. Having been having sex (alone, but it counts) nearly every other day for two weeks he shouldn't feel as flustered as he does but it's like none of that counts; he slides a hand up his uncle's wrist to pluck his hand off his face, planting it behind Aemond's head on a shelf, and runs the same hand back up that arm to drape over his uncle's shoulder while inclining his body toward him at a (deliberately, oh-so casual) insouciant slant, all of it in one smooth, decided step forward. ]

... Hmm.

[ He's interested in wherever Daemon is going with that compliment and doesn't want to let it pass into nothing between the books hemming them in. Those are words he cares about, unlike the thousands that surround them. ]

Perhaps your eyesight has simply gotten better, uncle.

[ Bold, even offline. He likes that. Daemon steps back into him, leaning close, crowding Aemond since he's being invited to do so. He takes his hip with his other hand, and rubs just over the joint, as if restless, keeping himself from sending his touch wandering.

In another world he'd drag the younger man back up to his room. But Daemon isn't staying the night, he's merely killing an hour or so while his girls gossip in the kitchen over desserts fished out of the pantry. If only they had another outlet through which to explore sexual tension, right?

An almost-kiss, but Daemon pulls away. He takes a few steps backwards, giving Aemond a searing, smug look, before he turns. Just in time, as with footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. ]

[ Aemond has never had a problem with being bold, even when his bones felt like they were trying to vibrate out of his skin with nerves. Especially not then, most times. All he knows is that Daemon is close enough that Aemond's lack of physical lover flares like a flashing red light behind his eyes as lips brush and bodies sway, sliding a hand up Daemon's front to mirror the one hooked around his own hip, not-kissing and not-leaving for a long moment where he thinks this is just how it's going to be, this is how the infuriating man flirts —

He gets a cold waft of air between them and a look that withers his burst of confidence.

Everything Daemon heard comes roaring back into Aemond's ears so that he gets it — his stomach drops like lead — just as Aegon comes huffing around the corner. His brother yelps as Aemond storms past, bewildered and not a little surprised to see their uncle there. Aemond? Uncle? Uhhh ...

Aemond is too long-legged for Aegon to catch up but that's alright, he wants to get as far away from the library as possible before the fire in his chest blows through all his ribs. ]

[ A pity that Daemon's affections so often seem like Daemon being mean. More a pity that it's always been this way, and he's yet to figure out how to adjust the dial in himself. You'd think he would, by now, but people keep forgiving him and marrying him and having his children.

He's as shameless an unruffled as ever when he pats Aegon on the shoulder and says he thinks Aemond is embarrassed about dinner still. Don't worry, no one expects you to actually meet my challenge. Think your half-sister would divorce me if Jace actually did it, though?

An awful man.

He collects the twins and says goodnight to Helaena, who never seems to notice whether or not he's been away, and that's that.

For now. His account is still there, a patron of SilverWings' work, like a hot poker being warmed in an open fire. ]

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