[ Kepus is groaned out, a hollow ache all through Aemond in the afterglow as Daemon keeps moving, tasting. He looks every bit as depraved as every rumour from Aemond's childhood said, and he wears it well. Aemond watches him from under his lashes and his hips move at his uncle's bidding, thighs that ache spreading farther to let him touch.
He could be on fire with overstimulation and he would rather writhe with it than say No. ]
You always do this.
[ Aemond has no control over himself and Daemon knows it! Huffing, he somehow manages to pout through the compliments and caresses even as he relaxes into the latter. ]
Fucking me with my own blood? Such a virginal aesthetic, uncle.
Always? [ Nuzzling at his ear and his jaw, sucking little kisses, barely-there scrapes of teeth. ] I'm sure I've made you come with a hand on your cock.
[ Often after he already gets Aemond off in some other way, but who's counting. (Daemon, every time, smug and satisfied.)
Still hard, rubbing up against sweaty soft skin, Daemon continues to press his fingers against his nephew's hole, tracing circles and teasing him without pushing in. He might well be too sensitive for it, and he's not about to make him, but Daemon enjoys dragging out the stimulation as far as he can regardless. ]
I can't imagine what use I would have for virgins. [ A low chuckle, strained with arousal, and he licks at the side of his mouth. ] You're much too good just as you are.
[ His cock feels like it owns all the thought in his body, his mind is a melted mush that only wants to get every part of him physically closer no matter the way it makes Aemond moan and whimper between laboured breaths. A surge of confident pride rushes warmly all through him and he knows, with practice, how to relax his body and arch against the pressure of those all-too-polite fingers, making a show of sinking down on them as he looks at Daemon. Aemond may be panting with the effort but he can do it and he wants to show Daemon how much he's welcome to this any time he wants, that he doesn't have to hold back or worry in the way he always does because he is, beneath the rest, a giving and sensitive soul. He would never hurt Aemond.
His cock is hardening again from the petting and the way he slowly fucks himself on those digits with rocking hips, gasping as his head drops back to the pillows. His hands fly to Daemon's shoulders, digging in smooth and scarred skin alike. With a smug dreaminess, he sighs, ]
I am, aren't I.
[ It isn't a question. He wonders when was the last time Rhaenyra literally dragged her husband into herself because she couldn't stand to be without him, and given how long Daemon is staying with him this visit Aemond bets he could guess. ]
[ The very stupid paradox of being Daemon Targaryen: he would hurt Aemond, if he could. There's a pull in him towards something like sadism, but it's directly opposed to the rest of him (chiefly, his cock). And so he satisfies that strange desire in other realms, and indulges only carefully and passionately in sex.
Aemond would look so very pretty crying and flushed, but it'd destroy Daemon. He's very absurd.
He lets his fingertips sink into his nephew's needy body, aware he's showing off and getting a thrill from it— gently, he tugs at him, but doesn't push deeper. ]
Always so good for me. Coming for me, taking care of me.
[ He wants to fuck him. He wants to watch him paint one of his dragons.
[ Aemond's uncle is strange. He likes it, though. Quirks like cooing sweet nothings as Aemond rides his fingers and kisses him, behaving exactly as he would if he were filled with a cock, all for Daemon's pleasure when it comes to watching and memorising ... Almost reticent when it comes to actually fucking, for the most part. There's a certain perversity there but Aemond is accustomed to it, raking his nails up his uncle's back and into his hair as he leans up for a kiss. Any part of him is good enough for Aemond and he does take care of him, yes, he makes sure Daemon is watching his face as hot tension grips those fingers and shudders all through him. ]
God ...
[ All he can feel of his cock is a throbbing weight, his heart is thundering in Aemond's head to deafen out all common sense and reason when he clings to him, arching up. The angle of those fingers crooks and he whimpers, mouth open and panting under Daemon's. ]
Stay here, stay one more night.
[ Expanding his mental horizons to being without him for the evening isn't a world he wants to even contemplate, doing his very best with his nuzzling kisses and rocking hips to tempt Daemon away from his home a little longer. Stay here where it's hot and tight and you can have this any time. Don't leave me. He sighs, shivering. ]
[ Aemond is a whore, and Daemon likes it. He might love it (him?), terrifying as that thought threatens to be— he really doesn't have any use for virgins. (Daemon likes his lovers how he likes his driveways in the winter, well-plowed by someone else before he gets there.) (sorry) (am i) He lets his fingers be pulled in, but not as far as he knows his nephew really wants, staying there just past his rim and teasing, rutting his erection slowly in the crease of his groin.
It's like alcohol, but better. Daemon imagines it's a byproduct of drinking his blood. Intoxicating, to hear Stay and I need you.
A better man would experience a sink of guilt about making his young nephew feel this way about him. A smarter man, with his same experience with paid company, would be suspicious, and understand that pretty words are just that. But Daemon is Daemon, and so he loves to hear it, and he lets himself believe. ]
Nephew. [ A soft, aching kiss, careful of where he's bruised his mouth. ] Silver boy.
[ SilverWings. He wonders if it came from the little dragon models. Daemon removes his hand from between Aemond's legs, ready to quell protests with soft kisses if they come, so that he can fetch the abandoned lube and get his fingers wet. ]
Want to keep me so bad you'll put up with old clothes and me having to catch up on work emails?
[ Comically tedious subjects, while he sinks fingers back into him, slicked up this time. ]
[ The growling approval of the kiss that shuts him up morphs into a smile as he's opened up properly, lashes low and gaze fixed on Daemon's mouth as Aemond tries to steady his breathing. His exhales are unsteady, a byproduct of getting hard again in a hurry and unconsciously pushing his stamina (isn't that what every bout of sex with Daemon ends up being?), and he combs back his uncle's loose hair; digs his nails in down Daemon's burns, seeking out the areas with nerves still beneath, shoulder and chest absent-mindedly scraped. Pet-pet, scratch-scratcccchhh. ]
You can, mmhn, wear my clothes, use my laptop. Problems s-ahh! Solved.
[ Conversation is a tad more difficult with his concentration split. ]
[ Aemond is young, he can take it; hardly Daemon's fault that he has such a slow fuse and is used to applying it to women who can climax again and again. Hardly Daemon's fault that his nephew looks so sweet when he's over-sensitive and he can't help himself from always wanting to wring out more, more, more. He shivers into the raking nails as they find spots that sting or spark— he can feel through all of it, and sometimes attention soothes the faint irritation of paresthesia.
Long fingers press in deeper, but no quicker. He likes taking his time so that he can enjoy Aemond falling to pieces ever more. ]
You make it so difficult to leave you, [ he sighs, and fingertips ghost near the gland inside of him without ever touching it directly. ] ... I'll stay.
[ He does try not to look like the cat that got its uncle's cream but largely fails, letting his arms fall free of Daemon to curl above his head on the pillows, gripping with every flex of his hips that keeps him moving obediently to that frustrating pace. It feels like being tormented, never given entirely what he wants just so that Daemon can enjoy himself. It's a little masochistic ... and a little bit perfect, relinquishing control. Even if Daemon hurt him it would be in a way Aemond could handle, of that he's sure.
He wonders how, exactly, he makes it difficult for Daemon to leave. If he knew, he would make it his personal mission to persist and never have him return home. ]
Daemon, please. I can't ...
[ He isn't going to come this easily a second time around but it aches, tossing his hair as he groans in the back of his throat. ]
[ The ways in which Daemon might hurt him are unbearably typical; chewing lovebites 'til they bleed, pulling him over his lap to spank him and whisper about what a good boy he is for enduring it. Very 'fuzzy handcuffs at a hen night' of him, except for how deadly serious he is about fetishizing family members.
Aemond stretches his arms back and displays himself, and Daemon hums in approval and bends down to sneak a bite to one nipple. ]
Can't what, my darling?
[ He knows his nephew isn't going to come on his fingers like this, but he's writhing and begging so prettily. It's nearly as satisfying as fucking him will be— thinking of it makes his cock twitch, and Daemon huffs an almost-laugh, as if finally remembering how hard he is and finding the sudden dizzying ache surprising. Oh, right, me too. ]
[ He puffs hair out of his eyes in irritation, flustered to the point where he covers his face with a hand to try and escape his own blush. There's logic there, somewhere. His cheeks are burning, the grip around Daemon's fingers slowly eroding his ability to think.
My darling.
Dangerous, how he would do anything for him. ]
Mmm ...
[ There's a groan in the back of his throat that morphs into a sigh, cracked and hoarse. The ache of being stretched is a spine-meltingly good one but his spread thighs are also starting to tremble. ]
Getting tired.
[ Closer to being out of his mind than he has been in a long time, lashes hooded. ]
[ Daemon pulls that hand away from Aemond's face, wanting to drink in the sight of his flush, and he presses a kiss to his palm to sooth him. Beautiful.
He makes a comforting sound, then, and withdraws his fingers so that he can take his nephew in his arms and coax (or perhaps just manhandled, depending on how dead-weight of a mood he's in), until the young man is on his side. Daemon nudges him to be laying almost entirely on his front so that he can stroke his hands up and down his spine before he settles in behind him, erection tucked teasingly into the cleft of his backside. ]
There we are. [ He drops a kiss to his shoulder, and skims a hand over his chest and lower, brushing up against his cock. They don't actually have to fuck— he's never pushed Aemond when he's really seemed tired, or too over-stimulated. It's lovely like this, too, nuzzling against him. ] You're being very cute, nephew.
[ He goes where he's manhandled, slumping on his side with an arm cast over the bedding. The short break where he isn't being fingered to distraction allows him to draw steadying breaths and he arches back against Daemon with feline insistence in the roll of his body, covering the hand that explores him and bringing it up to give it a bite, right between the meat of a thumb and index as he blushes at the compliment. Hrmph. ]
I'm not cute.
[ Twisting his upper-body so he can brush along a jaw and follow those nuzzles in for a kiss, he fully intends to hold his uncle's tongue prisoner as that hard cock rides the cleft of his ass. ]
[ He ghosts a touch over Aemond's throat, and then returns that kiss. Some shuffling, as he gets his other arm beneath him behind his head, where he can post up on his elbow or lay down all the way and touch him. Another kiss and he hitches closer, rubbing his cock against him; sticky from the remnants of lube he'd used to open his nephew up, blood-hot and aching from how long he's been hard, leaking just a little. ]
[ He can't arch back properly to get Daemon inside, though not for a lack of trying. It feels like slowly being driven mad, moaning into the heat of his uncle's mouth as that hard cock slicks up his already ready hole with its own precome (and isn't that a rare treat) but refuses to enter him. Aemond reaches back, using Daemon as a brace from behind, and drags his nails up the curve of an ass to drag him in flush; he parts his lips under his uncle's kisses and mouths the words in a breathless snarl of High Valyrian, the world narrowing down to sweat and need and impatience, ]
Lo ao ȳdra daor qogralbar nyke paktot sir kesā dōrī qogralbar nyke arlī.
[ And here Daemon was being patient and considerate.
He bites his nephew's lower lip and grinds his hips forward, growling something wordless and possessive into him. Can't exactly deny an offer like that, now, can he. He grabs one asscheek and hitches up enough so that his cock catches against Aemond's tight, slick hole as he slides back and forth. ]
I don't believe you'd ever deny me, [ he husks, always sounding deeper in their native tongue. The head of his erection nuzzles against his asshole, stimulating them both. Daemon grabs the tube again to artlessly drag some over his cock, knuckles pressing against Aemond again as he does. ] But I'll fuck you, nephew. Don't worry.
[ So he does. He pushes in, deep and deeper, hand grasping Aemond's hip once he's steadied himself enough. Giving him every inch he's apparently lovingly counted. ]
[ He bites his lip so he doesn't snap back a lie, since there would be no point denying it. When wouldn't Aemond want his uncle? The nudge of a cock takes far too long for his liking to turn into a solid thrust but when it does he cries out and clips his own moan, swearing under his breath and bowing his head forward in a wave of pale hair. He arches back in a wave and the same strangled noise lodges in his throat as hard heat fills him to distraction; it's all Aemond can do to turn his head and nuzzle back against a cheek, the whisper of a kiss smearing there with a hitched breath. ]
[ The hot clench of his body is so good, especially after having drawn it out like this. Daemon is caught on wire's edge between wanting to savor it slowly, and wanting to fuck into him brutally and take. Aemond himself occupies both sides of that in his mind, his sweet protest at being tired, and his demand to be fucked. Daemon groans and hitches forward all the more, making sure he's buried deep, pulling his nephew into, onto him.
Dizzying. For a moment he just pants against Aemond, their faces bumped together at odd angles, half-curled over him. Cuddled, spooning, impaling him on his cock. ]
Why would I? [ When Aemond feels this perfect. Daemon rocks his hips and drags his heavy cock back and forth, barely pulling out, put making sure to tuck in as deep as he can with every tilt inside. He drops his head forward, resting against him as he pushes in, lost in sensation.
Pent up after a day of anxiety, stress, worry. All washed away after being tended to, and he can let go finally. ]
[ It's impossible to tell when things stopped being about a silly, sexy little arrangement where Aemond cared about getting paid for sex and started needing Daemon like oxygen. Perhaps he was fooling himself into needing an excuse to do this, or Daemon was, it all seems so flimsy a pretence as Aemond reaches back for a hot nape where his fingers tangle in Daemon's sweaty hair to hold him close. He doesn't want to pretend this isn't real anymore. After close to nearly an hour of being teased with fingers and already fucked to orgasm once, his entire body is primed and thrumming with sensitivity from so much foreplay, greedy for the stretch of his uncle's large cock that fills him better than anyone else ever has (poor Laenor, no shade). They aren't even fucking properly yet, savouring the way each other feels as Daemon sinks in at a controlled grind, every clench of Aemond around him utterly instinctive as his uncle makes him feel special, like far more than a dirty secret to keep from their family.
Aemond braces his knees as far apart as he can so that Daemon can sink in to the root, balls heavy against Aemond's soft skin and hips flush. It's dizzyingly, heartbreakingly good. Sex isn't like this with just anyone; Daemon has him feeling like he's been waiting years for him, not days. Maybe he has.
Soft gasps break over panting, wet lips, the shine of them a badly-bitten red. ]
I was made for you.
[ Made/Born, the Valyrian overlaps as it hushes out in a sigh. Between moans, he has the remaining presence of mind to hurriedly add (before the next plunge of that cock), ]
[ Fuck, fuck fuck it's so good, and Daemon's motions become quicker with each roll forward, his hand hard enough to be bruising on his nephew's hipbone, his other hand clutching at him wherever he can grab. After a moment of it he shifts to hook his hand under Aemond's knee, stretching him wide so that he can grind into him and look down at his straining cock, everything exposed and on display for him.
Made, born. Daemon's cock twitches and his hips jolt, out of his control. His brother made Rhaenyra for him, and maybe he made Aemond, too; Aemma was gone and Viserys has faded without her, but he still found some girl to fuck to bring forth more silver-haired children, and one of them is here, now, practically named for Daemon, panting and moaning while he's speared on his cock. ]
You're mine, [ he rasps, harsh and desperate, hitching over so he has better leverage to fuck into him, wet sounds of flesh hitting, so deep into him he feels like he would tuck his balls inside of him if he could, brilliant and perfect pleasure. ] Aemond.
[ Daemon always teases him for coming too soon so, this time, Aemond is determined to hold out. It's so incredibly difficult while being fucked so well his vision is whiting out but he reaches down to grip his cock around the base and squeeze, forcing himself not to come even as he drools a little into the pillow from the sheer pleasure lighting up his spine. Any pretence of control is steadily fucked out of him until he's moaning incoherently, uncle, uncle, daemon, yes, fuck, yours, a mess of himself that he would be ashamed to watch on video.
His hip hurts but he likes that, he wants to have marks all over that he can dig his fingers into when Daemon is gone and remember his touch by. With his free hand he grips the blankets and tries to focus for long enough to tighten up around that driving cock, ass and thighs clenching though spread apart, and it makes Aemond whimper because this will hurt later, he will be bruised elsewhere, but he welcomes that too. ]
[ The sight of Aemond holding his own cock, and knowing what it means, what his nephew is clinging onto, only drives Daemon further into lust. There's a spark somewhere in the back of his head, better sense trying to prevail, that reminds him not to hurt the young man. But it burns away, and he's too wrapped up in more, more, more.
He fucks him, and he lets himself get lost in the feeling of it, the sight of Aemond holding himself, the way he's spread out, the sweat on his skin and the shine of his hair, hearing him moan wanton and desperate.
Perversely and deeply wired to hearing someone gasp uncle like that. (Worse: how much he wishes he could hear brother instead. Rhaenyra will never be his sister, Aemond will never be his brother, he will never have grown up with someone who was meant to be his from the start. But he can have this, and cling to it, precious and revered.)
Daemon pants and growls against his ear, yes you're so good, so good for me, sweet boy, fuck, I want to feel you come, I want you to come like this, show me how you fuck your hand—
[ Daemon has buried his cock in Aemond before and made him cry out in pleasure, it's no new thing for the sex to feel phenomenal between them. This time, however, Aemond's head is filled with memories of cuddling at night, sharing croissants (stealing the best bits off Daemon's plate to barks of protest, really), having books bought on his behalf after kissing in a dusty old shop, and watching the genuine interest in a silly dragon figure take root in his uncle's eyes. Holding hands on the tram home, filled with warm affection that makes him dizzy ...
Standing under an umbrella together in the rain, close as they kissed.
With his knees spread he can't do anything but stay exposed when he comes into his own pumping fist, pink hole fluttering around the girth of a large cock as Aemond whimpers Uncle! and allows himself to fall into the ecstasy being drilled up his spine, orgasm lasting well after his hand grips the sheet with a shine to brace him on the bed under Daemon's weight, hips swaying back to chase the relentless hardness spitting him open. He loves him, doesn't want to be without him, and arches his hips to give Daemon the curve of his ass to ride, moaning into the pillows all the while. ]
[ Daemon chokes on a breath, sounding as though it's nearly punched out of him. Fucking Aemond's orgasm out of him, feeling so on the cusp of madness with lust, nothing slipping away from him— and after how pathetic he felt the night before. Such a high after such a low is intoxicating. He sees sparks at the edges of his vision, the chemical release in his brain beating out the physical one in his cock.
Which is close at hand. He fucks into him, into his beautiful body that seems to try to contort itself to wring more pleasure out of Daemon, and he feels everything in him get tense and tight to shattering. Curled against and over him, buried as deep as is possible, Daemon orgasms, gasping Aemond, Aemond.
He comes so hard he almost gets a goddamn cramp in his thigh. What a world. Brain offline, euphoric glowing, he barely registers the way he shifts down to cradle his nephew against himself, wrapping him with weakening limbs. Sweat and come and panting breaths, he needs to hold him. His pulse hammers in his ears and his vision swims, aftershocks dancing all over his nervous system.
[ If Daemon offers him money for anything after this, Aemond will be so offended. This is now an affair, fully-fledged and stuffed with too much emotion to be passed off as a game. He feels Daemon's orgasm as if it's his own, trembling beneath him over-sensitised and blissed-out on it, a moan echoing the call of his own name as come spills inside him and he can't help writhing back to help Daemon's hips find his own.
(Uncle, yesyesyes, fuck me, ohuncleohgod.)
All he can compute is the heavy body plastered against his own, barely cognisant enough to lace their fingers together when Daemon wraps around him possessively and they sink to the bed in an exhausted, sated heap of sweat and sex. Tumbled together, he starts to doze while murmuring Uncle, nestling against him.
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He could be on fire with overstimulation and he would rather writhe with it than say No. ]
You always do this.
[ Aemond has no control over himself and Daemon knows it! Huffing, he somehow manages to pout through the compliments and caresses even as he relaxes into the latter. ]
Fucking me with my own blood? Such a virginal aesthetic, uncle.
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[ Often after he already gets Aemond off in some other way, but who's counting. (Daemon, every time, smug and satisfied.)
Still hard, rubbing up against sweaty soft skin, Daemon continues to press his fingers against his nephew's hole, tracing circles and teasing him without pushing in. He might well be too sensitive for it, and he's not about to make him, but Daemon enjoys dragging out the stimulation as far as he can regardless. ]
I can't imagine what use I would have for virgins. [ A low chuckle, strained with arousal, and he licks at the side of his mouth. ] You're much too good just as you are.
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[ His cock feels like it owns all the thought in his body, his mind is a melted mush that only wants to get every part of him physically closer no matter the way it makes Aemond moan and whimper between laboured breaths. A surge of confident pride rushes warmly all through him and he knows, with practice, how to relax his body and arch against the pressure of those all-too-polite fingers, making a show of sinking down on them as he looks at Daemon. Aemond may be panting with the effort but he can do it and he wants to show Daemon how much he's welcome to this any time he wants, that he doesn't have to hold back or worry in the way he always does because he is, beneath the rest, a giving and sensitive soul. He would never hurt Aemond.
His cock is hardening again from the petting and the way he slowly fucks himself on those digits with rocking hips, gasping as his head drops back to the pillows. His hands fly to Daemon's shoulders, digging in smooth and scarred skin alike. With a smug dreaminess, he sighs, ]
I am, aren't I.
[ It isn't a question. He wonders when was the last time Rhaenyra literally dragged her husband into herself because she couldn't stand to be without him, and given how long Daemon is staying with him this visit Aemond bets he could guess. ]
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Aemond would look so very pretty crying and flushed, but it'd destroy Daemon. He's very absurd.
He lets his fingertips sink into his nephew's needy body, aware he's showing off and getting a thrill from it— gently, he tugs at him, but doesn't push deeper. ]
Always so good for me. Coming for me, taking care of me.
[ He wants to fuck him. He wants to watch him paint one of his dragons.
He's so screwed. ]
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God ...
[ All he can feel of his cock is a throbbing weight, his heart is thundering in Aemond's head to deafen out all common sense and reason when he clings to him, arching up. The angle of those fingers crooks and he whimpers, mouth open and panting under Daemon's. ]
Stay here, stay one more night.
[ Expanding his mental horizons to being without him for the evening isn't a world he wants to even contemplate, doing his very best with his nuzzling kisses and rocking hips to tempt Daemon away from his home a little longer. Stay here where it's hot and tight and you can have this any time. Don't leave me. He sighs, shivering. ]
I need you.
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It's like alcohol, but better. Daemon imagines it's a byproduct of drinking his blood. Intoxicating, to hear Stay and I need you.
A better man would experience a sink of guilt about making his young nephew feel this way about him. A smarter man, with his same experience with paid company, would be suspicious, and understand that pretty words are just that. But Daemon is Daemon, and so he loves to hear it, and he lets himself believe. ]
Nephew. [ A soft, aching kiss, careful of where he's bruised his mouth. ] Silver boy.
[ SilverWings. He wonders if it came from the little dragon models. Daemon removes his hand from between Aemond's legs, ready to quell protests with soft kisses if they come, so that he can fetch the abandoned lube and get his fingers wet. ]
Want to keep me so bad you'll put up with old clothes and me having to catch up on work emails?
[ Comically tedious subjects, while he sinks fingers back into him, slicked up this time. ]
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You can, mmhn, wear my clothes, use my laptop. Problems s-ahh! Solved.
[ Conversation is a tad more difficult with his concentration split. ]
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Long fingers press in deeper, but no quicker. He likes taking his time so that he can enjoy Aemond falling to pieces ever more. ]
You make it so difficult to leave you, [ he sighs, and fingertips ghost near the gland inside of him without ever touching it directly. ] ... I'll stay.
[ Foolish, but he wants it. ]
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He wonders how, exactly, he makes it difficult for Daemon to leave. If he knew, he would make it his personal mission to persist and never have him return home. ]
Daemon, please. I can't ...
[ He isn't going to come this easily a second time around but it aches, tossing his hair as he groans in the back of his throat. ]
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Aemond stretches his arms back and displays himself, and Daemon hums in approval and bends down to sneak a bite to one nipple. ]
Can't what, my darling?
[ He knows his nephew isn't going to come on his fingers like this, but he's writhing and begging so prettily. It's nearly as satisfying as fucking him will be— thinking of it makes his cock twitch, and Daemon huffs an almost-laugh, as if finally remembering how hard he is and finding the sudden dizzying ache surprising. Oh, right, me too. ]
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My darling.
Dangerous, how he would do anything for him. ]
Mmm ...
[ There's a groan in the back of his throat that morphs into a sigh, cracked and hoarse. The ache of being stretched is a spine-meltingly good one but his spread thighs are also starting to tremble. ]
Getting tired.
[ Closer to being out of his mind than he has been in a long time, lashes hooded. ]
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He makes a comforting sound, then, and withdraws his fingers so that he can take his nephew in his arms and coax (or perhaps just manhandled, depending on how dead-weight of a mood he's in), until the young man is on his side. Daemon nudges him to be laying almost entirely on his front so that he can stroke his hands up and down his spine before he settles in behind him, erection tucked teasingly into the cleft of his backside. ]
There we are. [ He drops a kiss to his shoulder, and skims a hand over his chest and lower, brushing up against his cock. They don't actually have to fuck— he's never pushed Aemond when he's really seemed tired, or too over-stimulated. It's lovely like this, too, nuzzling against him. ] You're being very cute, nephew.
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I'm not cute.
[ Twisting his upper-body so he can brush along a jaw and follow those nuzzles in for a kiss, he fully intends to hold his uncle's tongue prisoner as that hard cock rides the cleft of his ass. ]
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You're not the judge, I'm afraid.
[ He ghosts a touch over Aemond's throat, and then returns that kiss. Some shuffling, as he gets his other arm beneath him behind his head, where he can post up on his elbow or lay down all the way and touch him. Another kiss and he hitches closer, rubbing his cock against him; sticky from the remnants of lube he'd used to open his nephew up, blood-hot and aching from how long he's been hard, leaking just a little. ]
I think you just don't show it to many people.
[ How cute you are. ]
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[ He can't arch back properly to get Daemon inside, though not for a lack of trying. It feels like slowly being driven mad, moaning into the heat of his uncle's mouth as that hard cock slicks up his already ready hole with its own precome (and isn't that a rare treat) but refuses to enter him. Aemond reaches back, using Daemon as a brace from behind, and drags his nails up the curve of an ass to drag him in flush; he parts his lips under his uncle's kisses and mouths the words in a breathless snarl of High Valyrian, the world narrowing down to sweat and need and impatience, ]
Lo ao ȳdra daor qogralbar nyke paktot sir kesā dōrī qogralbar nyke arlī.
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He bites his nephew's lower lip and grinds his hips forward, growling something wordless and possessive into him. Can't exactly deny an offer like that, now, can he. He grabs one asscheek and hitches up enough so that his cock catches against Aemond's tight, slick hole as he slides back and forth. ]
I don't believe you'd ever deny me, [ he husks, always sounding deeper in their native tongue. The head of his erection nuzzles against his asshole, stimulating them both. Daemon grabs the tube again to artlessly drag some over his cock, knuckles pressing against Aemond again as he does. ] But I'll fuck you, nephew. Don't worry.
[ So he does. He pushes in, deep and deeper, hand grasping Aemond's hip once he's steadied himself enough. Giving him every inch he's apparently lovingly counted. ]
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[ He bites his lip so he doesn't snap back a lie, since there would be no point denying it. When wouldn't Aemond want his uncle? The nudge of a cock takes far too long for his liking to turn into a solid thrust but when it does he cries out and clips his own moan, swearing under his breath and bowing his head forward in a wave of pale hair. He arches back in a wave and the same strangled noise lodges in his throat as hard heat fills him to distraction; it's all Aemond can do to turn his head and nuzzle back against a cheek, the whisper of a kiss smearing there with a hitched breath. ]
Like you would ever deny me.
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Dizzying. For a moment he just pants against Aemond, their faces bumped together at odd angles, half-curled over him. Cuddled, spooning, impaling him on his cock. ]
Why would I? [ When Aemond feels this perfect. Daemon rocks his hips and drags his heavy cock back and forth, barely pulling out, put making sure to tuck in as deep as he can with every tilt inside. He drops his head forward, resting against him as he pushes in, lost in sensation.
Pent up after a day of anxiety, stress, worry. All washed away after being tended to, and he can let go finally. ]
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Aemond braces his knees as far apart as he can so that Daemon can sink in to the root, balls heavy against Aemond's soft skin and hips flush. It's dizzyingly, heartbreakingly good. Sex isn't like this with just anyone; Daemon has him feeling like he's been waiting years for him, not days. Maybe he has.
Soft gasps break over panting, wet lips, the shine of them a badly-bitten red. ]
I was made for you.
[ Made/Born, the Valyrian overlaps as it hushes out in a sigh. Between moans, he has the remaining presence of mind to hurriedly add (before the next plunge of that cock), ]
You feel like the missing part of me.
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Made, born. Daemon's cock twitches and his hips jolt, out of his control. His brother made Rhaenyra for him, and maybe he made Aemond, too; Aemma was gone and Viserys has faded without her, but he still found some girl to fuck to bring forth more silver-haired children, and one of them is here, now, practically named for Daemon, panting and moaning while he's speared on his cock. ]
You're mine, [ he rasps, harsh and desperate, hitching over so he has better leverage to fuck into him, wet sounds of flesh hitting, so deep into him he feels like he would tuck his balls inside of him if he could, brilliant and perfect pleasure. ] Aemond.
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His hip hurts but he likes that, he wants to have marks all over that he can dig his fingers into when Daemon is gone and remember his touch by. With his free hand he grips the blankets and tries to focus for long enough to tighten up around that driving cock, ass and thighs clenching though spread apart, and it makes Aemond whimper because this will hurt later, he will be bruised elsewhere, but he welcomes that too. ]
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He fucks him, and he lets himself get lost in the feeling of it, the sight of Aemond holding himself, the way he's spread out, the sweat on his skin and the shine of his hair, hearing him moan wanton and desperate.
Perversely and deeply wired to hearing someone gasp uncle like that. (Worse: how much he wishes he could hear brother instead. Rhaenyra will never be his sister, Aemond will never be his brother, he will never have grown up with someone who was meant to be his from the start. But he can have this, and cling to it, precious and revered.)
Daemon pants and growls against his ear, yes you're so good, so good for me, sweet boy, fuck, I want to feel you come, I want you to come like this, show me how you fuck your hand—
He's so close he could gag with it. ]
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Standing under an umbrella together in the rain, close as they kissed.
With his knees spread he can't do anything but stay exposed when he comes into his own pumping fist, pink hole fluttering around the girth of a large cock as Aemond whimpers Uncle! and allows himself to fall into the ecstasy being drilled up his spine, orgasm lasting well after his hand grips the sheet with a shine to brace him on the bed under Daemon's weight, hips swaying back to chase the relentless hardness spitting him open. He loves him, doesn't want to be without him, and arches his hips to give Daemon the curve of his ass to ride, moaning into the pillows all the while. ]
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Which is close at hand. He fucks into him, into his beautiful body that seems to try to contort itself to wring more pleasure out of Daemon, and he feels everything in him get tense and tight to shattering. Curled against and over him, buried as deep as is possible, Daemon orgasms, gasping Aemond, Aemond.
He comes so hard he almost gets a goddamn cramp in his thigh. What a world. Brain offline, euphoric glowing, he barely registers the way he shifts down to cradle his nephew against himself, wrapping him with weakening limbs. Sweat and come and panting breaths, he needs to hold him. His pulse hammers in his ears and his vision swims, aftershocks dancing all over his nervous system.
Oh, fuck. ]
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(Uncle, yesyesyes, fuck me, ohuncleohgod.)
All he can compute is the heavy body plastered against his own, barely cognisant enough to lace their fingers together when Daemon wraps around him possessively and they sink to the bed in an exhausted, sated heap of sweat and sex. Tumbled together, he starts to doze while murmuring Uncle, nestling against him.
He loves him so terribly much. ]
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