I think as highly of you as I should, my saviour in the woods. [ With his bad arm cradled on his lap, his other hand tips Adar's chin to meet his lips in a slow kiss, heated but banked like low coals in a hearth. ] If you lie back on the floor, I'll show you proper deference.
[ Smirking playfully, Aemond sloughs off the rest of his fears and replaces them with lust. Easily done. ]
[Adar disagrees, but they may never see this topic evenly because even with a decade Adar could not easily sum up the weight of the darkness on his soul, the shadow that would follow him unto the end of the world.
So he says nothing, and kisses his sweet love back with that same gentle passion he is given. His thumb traces that familiar, sharp line of Aemond's jaw like it is a kind of prayer, a touchstone that will keep him from sinking into the black pits of the earth where he belongs in the absence of his children.]
If you hurt your arm further, I will have to stitch it. [He worries, even as he moves to comply to Aemond's request.]
[ Aemond leans his weight on his good arm beside Adar's hips and brushes up his nightshirt to kiss every scar he can find, using them as roadmaps across his hips. His tongue sails to the worst-marred jut and he takes his time mending each indent and burn, slacks peeled lower by light fingertips. It's not hurried or mindless, taking his time to let Adar feel worshipped by Aemond's lazy lips and the tickle of his long hair. ]
[He cannot help but still find it unsettling to bare his body so readily to another. Aemond was not a threat, and more than that, he trusted his silver-haired lover in a way that had nothing to do with the imbalance of power that tilted steadily in Adar's favour.
Yet his violet eye and his soft lips traipsing all over the scarred flesh of Adar's body as it is unveiled from beneath dark linen makes him feel as soft and vulnerable as it makes him feel heated. Vulnerable, too, feels the low hum of pleasure Aemond pulls from his throat so readily.
He is ancient and yet he squirms a little when Aemond finds a particularly sensitive spot along a thin but angry scar that once slit between his navel and hip.]
[ The lovely noises Adar makes fill Aemond with pride, spurring him on to latch a lovebite on that scar and leave it bruised (best he can), biting down as he sucks hard. He slips Adar's slacks down the uruk's legs, then undoes his braid and shakes out his hair so it can be felt all over scarred thighs, soft and silky to counterpart his nipping kiss.
Once satisfied, he licks a line around the base of his lover's cock but neglects it in the veil of his hair and leans over to another hipbone where he lavishes more attention. ]
[He may not bruise for as long as Aemond did, but he would surely remember the feeling of his lover's teeth on his scar any time it was bumped or touched for the foreseeable future as if Aemond had instead claimed a piece of his soul instead of his body. He moans softly, arching just slightly into his mouth.
The air is warm in the tower, but even so his cock, already growing hard from Aemond's presence and attention, twitches when it is exposed to the air and no longer contained by his slacks. He watches Aemond, transfixed as he undoes his silver braid and his silken hair falls over his thighs. It almost tickles, but laughter isn't the response his dragon gets for that. What he gets is a low moan that escapes Adar's lips even as he bites them to stop it. His fingers grasp fruitlessly at the floor, nothing for him to grab and not wanting to get grab Aemond and interrupt wherever it is his mind is leading him as he teases the base of Adar's cock and then his whole cock with that beautiful, soft hair.]
Fuck. [A rare, rare swear, even from the Uruk. Maybe he was learning a thing or two from Aemond.]
[ How wonderful in all its rarity to hear him curse. Pride has Aemond generous, loving nothing so much as being loved, wrapping his hand around that hardening cock ... with his hair too, silky around sensitive skin as Adar is stroked with obscene gentility.
He runs his lips over the crown, wet-soft. ]
My House grow their hair long to show our pride in who we are: silver or gold, or both, no one is our equal. I think you like it, love, more than you admit. You stare and touch and kiss at it when you think I don't notice.
[It seems like an impractical time for a lesson on House Targaryen's grooming habits. Right up until the second sentence actually processes in his lust-riddled mind. Oh. Oh. Aemond had not just been enjoying his affections but been paying attention to the things that caught Adar's eye the most.
So it is not the hand on his cock, stroking him agonisingly slowly, or even the soft touch of lips on his cock that makes Adar flush deeply and darkly, but rather those piercing words that say I see you even as he uses his hair to tease his readily hardening cock.
Adar's head tips back, moaning, an almost strangled noise that is a mix of desire and guilt. Eventually, he manages to speak.]
It would be a shame to ignore any of your beauty. [You'll have to try harder if you want the real reason, Aemond, though this one is far from a lie.]
[ He unravels his hair and swallows him down to the bump of his own fist where he guides Adar into his mouth, making a show of moaning around him as his hair spreads across the uruk's lap. Bobbing his head, his lashes flick up and violet-sapphire stares at Adar the whole while, on each hollow-cheeked pull. ]
One that is true. [Just, not the entire sordid story and certainly not one Adar wants to admit while a dragon's mouth is around his cock. Even if it was the dragon he loves.
It doesn't really matter though, Adar could not think with the wet embrace of his mouth and clever tongue engulfing the head of his cock. Nothing mattered to him in these moments but the two of them. Small gasps, the edges of moans that escape his well-disciplined lips sound so loud and vulgarly wanton to his sharp ears as his hips strain to not arch into that delightful mouth he knows the taste of now even in his dreams.
Adar chances a look down at him again and his eyes are caught on the violet and blue that look back up at him, his hand impulsively reaching to brush a strand of hair off of Aemond's face and back behind his ear. He does not impatiently pull or push for more even when Aemond's mouth works him so well his eyelashes flutter and drag out a full moan from him.]
[ That's better, he likes it when Adar is undone and helpless beneath him, a lethal killer who moans and whimpers for Aemond like he belongs on the Street of Silk. There's power here that Aemond covets fiercely.
He shifts his weight to direct Adar's hand to his hair, permission to hold on. Trusting.
His bad arm aches so he uses that to help brace himself on the floor and uses only his mouth to pleasure his lover, sinking a little further now and again, dragging down deep steady breaths like those he uses when Vhagar goes too fast. Throat working, his nose finally bumps the curls at the root of Adar's cock and he stays there for a long moment, proud of himself for taking all of him. ]
[Even at the moments when he was the most honest, the rawest and most untamed, there was ever a gentle care for his lover woven into his being. It went against the last two thousand years of his life experience, yet it had been there in him in the beginning, and it rose again every time they touched. It was the strain in his powerful hips that let themselves move just a little, so that Aemond could see the effects he wrought but did not thrust or make demands of him. It was in the way his hand carded through silver hair, finding a grip but never pulling too hard or directing him.
It was even in the way he allowed every vulnerable noise of desire, every moan fall from his lips or growl of desire rumble in his throat. A thousand small ways to say I love you even though he shouldn't.
His cock twitches involuntarily when he watches Aemond sink fully around him. Adar's thumb caresses Aemond's temple as he moans, the sound as much growl as anything, heavy with want.]
[ Hearing the sweet appellation has him swallowing again with a moan that spreads the length of that cock and ends with a chaste kiss to the tip, a swipe of a lick over the precome there, before Aemond moves with purpose. He gives Adar his mouth and throat to fuck as he pleases, encouraging it with a caress down his thigh, tempting him to move since he knows his uruk won't do it if he thinks he is overstepping. Wanting him to enjoy it with unrestrained passion.
It's tiring but satisfying, giving him this. Not often is Aemond selfless but he feels like he is with Adar and he intends to be a good partner, in all things. All ways. ]
[He is hesitant even when silent permission is granted for him to move, to free himself from being strung at tightly as a war bow, drawn up only by Aemond's mouth around his achingly hard cock. Yet he concedes, after a few more moments of fighting his desires. His hips rock up into his mouth, still mindfully, after a fashion, but much freer even as he keeps his eyes and ears sharply focused on Aemond for any sign of too great a discomfort.
Even with all his care, as his desire builds so does the recklessness in his hips, the strength of his grip on Aemond's hair, the uneven pace he sets and the way Aemond takes his cock, the way it looks between his lips has Adar on the edge and spilling over it before he counted on it. Aemond's name is on his lips, mingled between elvish words of both the tongues he knew best and fuck which sneaks back in even as he makes himself release Aemond's hair. He trembles still, his cock twitching as he tries to gently pull Adar back up his body, filled with the desire to kiss him.]
[ He spills not a drop, drinking him down in swallows that work his throat around Adar all the more as he shudders and comes. Aemond licks him clean, the faint pain of having his hair pulled and the ache in his jaw delicious as he happily clambers up his uruk's side for a kiss, cupping the back of Adar's head with all the care and gentility he hasn't had for so long, arms wrapping around his trembling body on the floor cushions and rugs. The bed would be better for this, but here they are. ]
[When Aemond is returned to a position where Adar can kiss him, he does so slowly but passionately, apologetically smoothing out his hair where he had held him. His eyes are half closed, but not fully, not even as they kiss. He loves to look upon Aemond, to drink him in both with his mouth and his eyes. When the kiss breaks he draws a line of lazy kisses along Aemond's lovely jaw.]
You really shouldn't be on the floor, dear love. [Not that he was rushing to get up or disentwine from Aemond.]
[ His laughter is soft and charmed, smiling into the kiss that drags along his jaw. He tidies Adar's hair too, ruffled by the rug as it is. ]
The trouble is, this is where you are. I have no choice.
[ He helps tug those slacks back up, making Adar decent again. Ignoring his own hard-on, which is more of a constant ache these days whenever they get an evening alone. ]
That is a problem easily remedied. [Reluctantly, though, because he quite enjoys just laying there in the afterglow of bliss, Aemond there with him so solid and real and the cool stone beneath the rug tempering his heat for him. After a moment of lingering, he pushes himself and therefore Aemond off of the ground, but then scoops his lover into his arms on the way to his feet, not having to break contact with him once.
The food is forgotten in favour of the bed, where he lays Aemond on the soft sheets before kicking off his slippers to lay beside him on the side that won't make Aemond support himself on his wounded arm, his head propped up by one hand while he lays on his side, looking warmly at his lover.]
See? All fixed. [He said as he leaned down to kiss him again.]
Between you and Vhagar my feet never touch the ground anymore.
[ He's laughing as Adar ferries him from floor to bed, tipping toward him for that kiss once they are settled with blanket drawn up. He nuzzles at Adar's collar, hand of his bad arm curling loosely in the uruk's shirt as he tries to ignore the ache in his missing eye (or rather, around a stone that was knocked silly during the earlier fight). Needing to take it out, he doesn't want to while so comfortable, feeling beautiful and wanted.
It itches all around the scar as he squeezes it shut, though. ]
You do not have to wear it around me, if that is why you are enduring it. [It was interesting to look at, and oddly enchanting at times, but it was just an ornament that Aemond liked to wear as far as Adar was concerned.] I will not want you less without it.
It does not look ... [ Good? And he does want to wear it for Adar, he wants to be as handsome as his lover thinks. The frustration banks and he blurts, ] It's just a hole in my head, horrible. If you see me like that you won't like it. I don't like it.
Half my hair is gone, my face is melted and scarred, and my body looks like it lost a war, several times over. Does this stop you wanting me? [He says, ditching his first thought of "I have put much bigger and worse holes in men's heads and not blanched" for something that might instead wind Aemond towards the idea of being comfortable rather than considering Adar's capacity for murder and harm.
And as a sort of peace offering, he also adds.] Or I can get your patch, or go to my own bed if you would be more comfortable. But it will not change anything about you for me.
That is different. [ He doesn't know how but it is. Adar is a whole package unto himself. ] And I am vain.
[ Admitting it with a sigh, he sits up to kiss him again, listing into Adar's warmth for a long moment. Aemond doesn't want to sleep in his patch tonight, nor alone, and his eye is starting to puff red. ]
... Bring over the washbowl, will you? And a towel, please.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Smirking playfully, Aemond sloughs off the rest of his fears and replaces them with lust. Easily done. ]
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So he says nothing, and kisses his sweet love back with that same gentle passion he is given. His thumb traces that familiar, sharp line of Aemond's jaw like it is a kind of prayer, a touchstone that will keep him from sinking into the black pits of the earth where he belongs in the absence of his children.]
If you hurt your arm further, I will have to stitch it. [He worries, even as he moves to comply to Aemond's request.]
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[ Aemond leans his weight on his good arm beside Adar's hips and brushes up his nightshirt to kiss every scar he can find, using them as roadmaps across his hips. His tongue sails to the worst-marred jut and he takes his time mending each indent and burn, slacks peeled lower by light fingertips. It's not hurried or mindless, taking his time to let Adar feel worshipped by Aemond's lazy lips and the tickle of his long hair. ]
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Yet his violet eye and his soft lips traipsing all over the scarred flesh of Adar's body as it is unveiled from beneath dark linen makes him feel as soft and vulnerable as it makes him feel heated. Vulnerable, too, feels the low hum of pleasure Aemond pulls from his throat so readily.
He is ancient and yet he squirms a little when Aemond finds a particularly sensitive spot along a thin but angry scar that once slit between his navel and hip.]
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Once satisfied, he licks a line around the base of his lover's cock but neglects it in the veil of his hair and leans over to another hipbone where he lavishes more attention. ]
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The air is warm in the tower, but even so his cock, already growing hard from Aemond's presence and attention, twitches when it is exposed to the air and no longer contained by his slacks. He watches Aemond, transfixed as he undoes his silver braid and his silken hair falls over his thighs. It almost tickles, but laughter isn't the response his dragon gets for that. What he gets is a low moan that escapes Adar's lips even as he bites them to stop it. His fingers grasp fruitlessly at the floor, nothing for him to grab and not wanting to get grab Aemond and interrupt wherever it is his mind is leading him as he teases the base of Adar's cock and then his whole cock with that beautiful, soft hair.]
Fuck. [A rare, rare swear, even from the Uruk. Maybe he was learning a thing or two from Aemond.]
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He runs his lips over the crown, wet-soft. ]
My House grow their hair long to show our pride in who we are: silver or gold, or both, no one is our equal. I think you like it, love, more than you admit. You stare and touch and kiss at it when you think I don't notice.
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So it is not the hand on his cock, stroking him agonisingly slowly, or even the soft touch of lips on his cock that makes Adar flush deeply and darkly, but rather those piercing words that say I see you even as he uses his hair to tease his readily hardening cock.
Adar's head tips back, moaning, an almost strangled noise that is a mix of desire and guilt. Eventually, he manages to speak.]
It would be a shame to ignore any of your beauty. [You'll have to try harder if you want the real reason, Aemond, though this one is far from a lie.]
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[ He unravels his hair and swallows him down to the bump of his own fist where he guides Adar into his mouth, making a show of moaning around him as his hair spreads across the uruk's lap. Bobbing his head, his lashes flick up and violet-sapphire stares at Adar the whole while, on each hollow-cheeked pull. ]
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It doesn't really matter though, Adar could not think with the wet embrace of his mouth and clever tongue engulfing the head of his cock. Nothing mattered to him in these moments but the two of them. Small gasps, the edges of moans that escape his well-disciplined lips sound so loud and vulgarly wanton to his sharp ears as his hips strain to not arch into that delightful mouth he knows the taste of now even in his dreams.
Adar chances a look down at him again and his eyes are caught on the violet and blue that look back up at him, his hand impulsively reaching to brush a strand of hair off of Aemond's face and back behind his ear. He does not impatiently pull or push for more even when Aemond's mouth works him so well his eyelashes flutter and drag out a full moan from him.]
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He shifts his weight to direct Adar's hand to his hair, permission to hold on. Trusting.
His bad arm aches so he uses that to help brace himself on the floor and uses only his mouth to pleasure his lover, sinking a little further now and again, dragging down deep steady breaths like those he uses when Vhagar goes too fast. Throat working, his nose finally bumps the curls at the root of Adar's cock and he stays there for a long moment, proud of himself for taking all of him. ]
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It was even in the way he allowed every vulnerable noise of desire, every moan fall from his lips or growl of desire rumble in his throat. A thousand small ways to say I love you even though he shouldn't.
His cock twitches involuntarily when he watches Aemond sink fully around him. Adar's thumb caresses Aemond's temple as he moans, the sound as much growl as anything, heavy with want.]
Aemond. [He whispers, his voice hot.] vanimelda.
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It's tiring but satisfying, giving him this. Not often is Aemond selfless but he feels like he is with Adar and he intends to be a good partner, in all things. All ways. ]
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Even with all his care, as his desire builds so does the recklessness in his hips, the strength of his grip on Aemond's hair, the uneven pace he sets and the way Aemond takes his cock, the way it looks between his lips has Adar on the edge and spilling over it before he counted on it. Aemond's name is on his lips, mingled between elvish words of both the tongues he knew best and fuck which sneaks back in even as he makes himself release Aemond's hair. He trembles still, his cock twitching as he tries to gently pull Adar back up his body, filled with the desire to kiss him.]
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Gevie ...
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You really shouldn't be on the floor, dear love. [Not that he was rushing to get up or disentwine from Aemond.]
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The trouble is, this is where you are. I have no choice.
[ He helps tug those slacks back up, making Adar decent again. Ignoring his own hard-on, which is more of a constant ache these days whenever they get an evening alone. ]
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The food is forgotten in favour of the bed, where he lays Aemond on the soft sheets before kicking off his slippers to lay beside him on the side that won't make Aemond support himself on his wounded arm, his head propped up by one hand while he lays on his side, looking warmly at his lover.]
See? All fixed. [He said as he leaned down to kiss him again.]
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[ He's laughing as Adar ferries him from floor to bed, tipping toward him for that kiss once they are settled with blanket drawn up. He nuzzles at Adar's collar, hand of his bad arm curling loosely in the uruk's shirt as he tries to ignore the ache in his missing eye (or rather, around a stone that was knocked silly during the earlier fight). Needing to take it out, he doesn't want to while so comfortable, feeling beautiful and wanted.
It itches all around the scar as he squeezes it shut, though. ]
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His green eyes are keen even in the dim light of the bed, and he watches Aemond, the way he seems either unsettled or uncomfortable.]
Tell me what troubles you. [He says even as he presses a kiss between his brows.]
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My eye aches ... or the phantom of it does.
[ He's been careful to wash it and take it out whenever Adar isn't around, but now his routine has been interrupted. ]
The sapphire is heavy after too long.
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And as a sort of peace offering, he also adds.] Or I can get your patch, or go to my own bed if you would be more comfortable. But it will not change anything about you for me.
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[ Admitting it with a sigh, he sits up to kiss him again, listing into Adar's warmth for a long moment. Aemond doesn't want to sleep in his patch tonight, nor alone, and his eye is starting to puff red. ]
... Bring over the washbowl, will you? And a towel, please.
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