[ 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.
[ How else will Aemond pay his rent, buy his vegan pastries? Daemon won't want to stop supporting him. Out of the question. What's he going to do, get a job?
Far away thoughts, for now. Daemon presses soft kisses to heated skin, messy and aimless, for the sheer desire of feeling him. A useless puddle of a person as he pets him, tangling fingers and squeezing gently. Dangerous. Daemon is slow to embrace feelings, but even he can't deny that this is very much like circling something. He feels both cautious and predatory, and he hasn't considered how complicated things will get once they're in too deep.
(Surprise, they are in too deep.)
By degrees, Daemon withdraws as he finally begins to soften, a slow burn from both sides. He touches his nephew carefully, soothing sore muscles. ]
[ Horror of horrors, he might be allowed to move back home and do it. An apartment is a lot easier to sustain a secret love affair but he misses his old wing and, it can never be admitted, his siblings too. It also makes Rhaenyra so incredibly lowkey mad to have her half-brothers and sister living in Her House, so ... it's a win all around. ]
Mmm, mmm ...
[ The rumbling noises that catch in his throat are all he can manage as he slides into Daemon's space, sore and exhausted. He flops an arm around his uncle's waist and grunts under his breath in approval before starting to snooze, even youth not letting him up from a fucking that intense without a nap. The soothing touches already have him half-asleep.
[ Everyone will be very annoyed when Viserys leaves the manor to Daemon. But it's what Grandmother wanted. Their secret. Brothers still have a few, despite the trouble.
He tugs a blanket up, cuddles Aemond in his arms, and kisses his forehead. A nap is absolutely called for, after that; his vision is still just a tinge glassy, still coming down from the high of such an intense climax. Nerve endings still firing, slowly working it out of his system. Daemon finds sleep slower than his nephew, just petting him softly and enjoying the way stress has been fully banished. Brain chemistry blissfully, if temporarily, sorted.
When he dozes it's pleasant, and restful. Waking gently not too long later to sticky skin and the hint of late afternoon sun is parts filthy and endearing. He hums, and noses against Aemond's hair. Mm. In no hurry. ]
[ Mumbling in his sleep as he rises to consciousness, Aemond's humming is muffled against Daemon's skin where he buries his face in the curve of a shoulder, yawning and squirming to stretch out his limbs then collapse back against his uncle. Every Mmmm is involuntarily when his hair is nuzzled like a sleepy kitten protesting waking up, the dark afternoon light feeling like it might be helping to hem them in their own little world.
When he sucks in a deep breath and exhales at length it's like a declaration of being awake, even though all he does is press a kiss to Daemon's collarbone and nestle back in with a smile. ]
[ A warm and cozy dragon, coming to in his arms. (A pang; he enjoys a marriage bed, he always prefers sleeping coiled with a lover, he wishes Rhaenyra were not so displeased with him.) The nuzzle in Aemond's hair becomes a kiss to the crown of his head, and Daemon rubs a hand over his back, still cradling him. Something precious. His nephew will tire of him like everyone does, but Daemon will always appreciate this time spent together.
Eventually, his hand shifts up to linger at the base of his skull, sifting through silver hair and drawing old runes on the back of his neck.
[ This is the only place he ever wishes to be. It feels like every other moment of his days and nights are spent trying to get back here, safe and loved in his uncle's arms, a favourite to be adored as much as his obsession has a million hooks in Daemon. Vindicated, by the way Daemon is so happy and content, that Aemond has done nothing wrong. ]
Mmhmm. It's only right you clean up the mess you made.
[ Maybe he can convince Daemon to stay again, he muses, slowly sitting up to arch his back with a wince (no regrets, just amused hisses). He does have the look of being thoroughly fucked with his long hair shaken up and bruises on his hips, neck, and chest slowly starting to darken, but he wears those with pride when he stands at the side of his bed and feels come trailing down an inner-thigh. He has been reshaped into someone Daemon has left the proof of himself all over, and likes it.
Daemon looks wonderful post-sex, Aemond can hardly keep his eyes off him. He offers a hand up. ]
Let's order in, too.
[ One more excuse to keep him here. Aemond is too greedy by far, like a dragon finally granted a hoard of treasure he never wants to let anyone else have a single piece of it. ]
[ Two nights with no clean clothes is a push, as is two nights when Daemon has children at home— something he and Rhaenyra have always been good at maintaining is that they keep their disagreements and other negativity away from the kids. Daemon dislikes the extent of spoiling that his stepsons have gotten, but he's willing to trade a bit of naivety for a loving environment. He won't want to be inexplicably absent for too much longer.
Until then, he can shower, and he can eat, and he can catch up on work emails with his nephew cuddled close.
He takes Aemond's hand as he gets up, and then he brings that hand to his mouth so that he can kiss his palm, looking at him as he does. Plain affection. He has appreciated this, very much. ]
[ Aemond can be prickly and mean, no one knows that better than Jace and Luc, but with Daemon he repays the affection in kind and has an easiness about the way he shows his love, kissing him and laughing in the shower as he insists on using something that smells like parma violets "to repair your poor hair", fingers kneading conditioner through his uncle's scalp as he smiles into his mouth. He finds them fresh clothes, now down to the most basic options of sweatpants and tshirts, and orders them food from his phone where he inserts himself beside Daemon on the couch (for a change of scenery), dozing like a sated snake half-watching the TV as his uncle tip-taps on his laptop.
He radiates lowkey happiness, keeping a lid on most of it so as not to be obnoxious. It's not hard to see how much he enjoys soaking up Daemon's attention. ]
[ Of course Aemond can be mean, he's got enough Targaryen in him, and they all have tempers, and teeth. They both want attention, they're both greedy about it, and Daemon would bet that they both hate being dismissed and would rather sabotage than reach the point of being rejected.
It makes him want to keep him close all the more. Understanding.
He checks his phone while his nephew is busy with long, wet platinum hair; he says nothing about it after. That realm is his own.
Sofa cuddling. Heels on the coffee table, letting Aemond lean on him. Nothing very exciting happening in his correspondence, though Daemon occasionally mutters to himself or gives half-absent narrative notes about this or that client or employee in whatever it is he actually does. ]
You're being very sweet, [ he observes after a while. ]
[ On his phone in the "kids" groupchat, he smiles and tips his head sideways to settle it on Daemon better, taking up some of the space on his lap. ]
I am sweet.
[ His flat tone doesn't match the small smile he wears. Watching Jace complain that his mum is in a grump because Daemon has taken off makes Aemond reply with a surprised face, dropping his buzzing phone on his chest as Aegon weighs in with a trollish "Maybe he ran off to make a new set of sprogs because you only shower once a week hahaha" and everyone is suddenly online. He reaches up to play with the hair at the back of Daemon's neck and blinks unseeingly at the TV, stretched out lengthways on the couch with heels on the armrest. He could stay here forever. ]
[ Daemon lets the laptop go for now, and allows himself to be distracted by petting Aemond's belly. Like he's an ornery cat who's showing Daemon a soft side. ]
For me. [ Not for many others, he's noticed. Maybe his sister, in private. ] And I like it very much.
[ Sweet boy, getting to be a sweet boy. Daemon wonders if he'd have been like this with another donor, had someone reached that sugar daddy tier before him. And he wonders if it wouldn't be good for him— experience the world a little more, different kinds of lovers. But selfishly he's glad for what they have, and that he gets to be greedy about it. ]
[ Low laughter bubbles up from that petted belly, shaking him where he lies back on Daemon's lap. A wide grin won't be flattened, pleased to know he's welcome and wanted. Admired, even. ]
I don't know what to say to that. I'm not trying to be.
[ He brings up that hand to catch a finger between his teeth, lightly gnawing like a puppy at Daemon's digits, tasting and nipping so as to have something to do. ]
[ Tsk, bitey. Daemon wriggles his finger gently, playing along, and brings his other hand in to stroke over the top of Aemond's head. He thinks about staying longer; he thinks about what his nephew might look like in his own home, curled up on the sofa in his study, or dozing in his bed. (Maybe in some of Rhaenyra's lingerie. Not because it would be a replacement model, but because it's pretty.) ]
You've made me feel very comfortable, is all. [ More gentle petting. ] I appreciate it.
[ He was having a shit day. If not for this affair, he'd have just carried on being miserable. Might have even done something rash and made the situation worse. ]
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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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Far away thoughts, for now. Daemon presses soft kisses to heated skin, messy and aimless, for the sheer desire of feeling him. A useless puddle of a person as he pets him, tangling fingers and squeezing gently. Dangerous. Daemon is slow to embrace feelings, but even he can't deny that this is very much like circling something. He feels both cautious and predatory, and he hasn't considered how complicated things will get once they're in too deep.
(Surprise, they are in too deep.)
By degrees, Daemon withdraws as he finally begins to soften, a slow burn from both sides. He touches his nephew carefully, soothing sore muscles. ]
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Mmm, mmm ...
[ The rumbling noises that catch in his throat are all he can manage as he slides into Daemon's space, sore and exhausted. He flops an arm around his uncle's waist and grunts under his breath in approval before starting to snooze, even youth not letting him up from a fucking that intense without a nap. The soothing touches already have him half-asleep.
He mumbles, ] Five minutes ...
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He tugs a blanket up, cuddles Aemond in his arms, and kisses his forehead. A nap is absolutely called for, after that; his vision is still just a tinge glassy, still coming down from the high of such an intense climax. Nerve endings still firing, slowly working it out of his system. Daemon finds sleep slower than his nephew, just petting him softly and enjoying the way stress has been fully banished. Brain chemistry blissfully, if temporarily, sorted.
When he dozes it's pleasant, and restful. Waking gently not too long later to sticky skin and the hint of late afternoon sun is parts filthy and endearing. He hums, and noses against Aemond's hair. Mm. In no hurry. ]
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When he sucks in a deep breath and exhales at length it's like a declaration of being awake, even though all he does is press a kiss to Daemon's collarbone and nestle back in with a smile. ]
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Eventually, his hand shifts up to linger at the base of his skull, sifting through silver hair and drawing old runes on the back of his neck.
A quiet murmur, ] Shower with me?
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Mmhmm. It's only right you clean up the mess you made.
[ Maybe he can convince Daemon to stay again, he muses, slowly sitting up to arch his back with a wince (no regrets, just amused hisses). He does have the look of being thoroughly fucked with his long hair shaken up and bruises on his hips, neck, and chest slowly starting to darken, but he wears those with pride when he stands at the side of his bed and feels come trailing down an inner-thigh. He has been reshaped into someone Daemon has left the proof of himself all over, and likes it.
Daemon looks wonderful post-sex, Aemond can hardly keep his eyes off him. He offers a hand up. ]
Let's order in, too.
[ One more excuse to keep him here. Aemond is too greedy by far, like a dragon finally granted a hoard of treasure he never wants to let anyone else have a single piece of it. ]
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Until then, he can shower, and he can eat, and he can catch up on work emails with his nephew cuddled close.
He takes Aemond's hand as he gets up, and then he brings that hand to his mouth so that he can kiss his palm, looking at him as he does. Plain affection. He has appreciated this, very much. ]
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He radiates lowkey happiness, keeping a lid on most of it so as not to be obnoxious. It's not hard to see how much he enjoys soaking up Daemon's attention. ]
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It makes him want to keep him close all the more. Understanding.
He checks his phone while his nephew is busy with long, wet platinum hair; he says nothing about it after. That realm is his own.
Sofa cuddling. Heels on the coffee table, letting Aemond lean on him. Nothing very exciting happening in his correspondence, though Daemon occasionally mutters to himself or gives half-absent narrative notes about this or that client or employee in whatever it is he actually does. ]
You're being very sweet, [ he observes after a while. ]
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I am sweet.
[ His flat tone doesn't match the small smile he wears. Watching Jace complain that his mum is in a grump because Daemon has taken off makes Aemond reply with a surprised face, dropping his buzzing phone on his chest as Aegon weighs in with a trollish "Maybe he ran off to make a new set of sprogs because you only shower once a week hahaha" and everyone is suddenly online. He reaches up to play with the hair at the back of Daemon's neck and blinks unseeingly at the TV, stretched out lengthways on the couch with heels on the armrest. He could stay here forever. ]
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For me. [ Not for many others, he's noticed. Maybe his sister, in private. ] And I like it very much.
[ Sweet boy, getting to be a sweet boy. Daemon wonders if he'd have been like this with another donor, had someone reached that sugar daddy tier before him. And he wonders if it wouldn't be good for him— experience the world a little more, different kinds of lovers. But selfishly he's glad for what they have, and that he gets to be greedy about it. ]
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I don't know what to say to that. I'm not trying to be.
[ He brings up that hand to catch a finger between his teeth, lightly gnawing like a puppy at Daemon's digits, tasting and nipping so as to have something to do. ]
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You've made me feel very comfortable, is all. [ More gentle petting. ] I appreciate it.
[ He was having a shit day. If not for this affair, he'd have just carried on being miserable. Might have even done something rash and made the situation worse. ]
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[ He nips that finger, chuckling. The petting of his hair has his eyelids feeling heavy, blinking slowly as he tips into the touch. ]
How is your work going? [ Nodding to the discarded laptop. ] Bored yet?
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