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It is a tradition of Valyria that every noble family give one of their children over to the priests to be raised in the temples and serve the gods. To be a priest or priestess is a position of honor, with each child raised in comfort, fed and clothed, learning duty and piety. They are revered in society, seen as the wisest and purest of all.
Aemond smothers a smirk as Lucerys walks by, his plump arse still on display even in his rough wool robe. The boy wears his wreath of nightwood and goldenheart leaves as a king would a crown and his hips sway as he walks. He is more wanton than the bed slaves in Lys with his dewy eyes and plump lips, slender frame and endless legs. Aemond’s eye does not leave his form as he walks to the pit at the other end of the great hall, delicate sandaled feet moving softly on the ground as he walks, a lit candle in his hand and beautiful head bowed in reverence.
“Do they take the cock too?” Aegon murmurs, hot breath caressing Aemond’s face. His eyes are clouded with drink already despite it barely being midday and they follow Lucerys. The stench of it rolls off him in waves. Aemond grimaces. “Or is it just the sack?”
“I do not concern myself with such things,” Aemond mutters.
There is a rumor that all the priests have been gelded and all the priestesses have had their cunts sewn shut. It’s said to make them more holy, as they will only serve the gods and not their own carnal desires.
(Lucerys’s cock and sack are pretty things, small and as dusky pink as his cheeks and nipples, nestled between milky thighs and surrounded by a nest of dark curls. Aemond likes to tease his length, swatting it and pinching the head to make the boy whine and squeal. He always blushed and the tears were bright on his face as he sobbed into Aemond's shoulder begging for release.)
There is a sturdy wooden platform above the pit, another priest and a shaggy black bull standing on it. The animal is wreathed in flowers, its horns sheathed in leather and the priest wears a robe of deep gray wool, the hood concealing his hair and half of his face. Aemond knows the wooden boards the beast stands on are pierced with tiny holes, that the Valyrian steel blade in the priest's hand is not ornamental. As a child, the rituals bothered him but now that he is grown and has proved his strength in battle, he finds them tedious, privately believing the gods have less to do with his martial prowess than his own training.
(As a child, he had no dragon. Eggs are fickle things and only Helaena's hatched. Whispers swirled about Aemond's heathen mother, a prize of his father's, a token of appreciation from a lord across the Narrow Sea when Aemond's uncle used his dragon to help fight off a band of pirates who kept raiding their shores. His uncle misliked her and gave her to his elder brother who found her pretty and charming and so they were married. The people said she was an unworthy wife of such a noble dragonlord, the eldest child of a noble family, and the reason why their eggs did not hatch. Soon, Aegon and Daeron claimed riderless dragons but Aemond never found success.
On his ten-and-sixth name day, Aemond prayed for a dragon. His little nephew had been keeping the temple that day and lit a candle for him. “You pray to Vhagar for a dragon.” It was not a question, even if the soft voice lifted at the end.
Aemond nodded. “I wish to claim a dragon and fight in a battle like my brothers and uncle.” Aemond's father had never been a great warrior, preferring instead to retreat to his books and maps, although he was known to aid in battle when requested.
“You will have to make a sacrifice, uncle,” the young novice said. Lucerys was clad in a robe of white wool. A dragonglass pendant dangled from his neck. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes were black as pitch, two oil drops in a porcelain face. “If you make a fitting sacrifice, the gods will reward you with a most glorious dragon.”
“What is a fitting sacrifice?” Aemond had asked. His voice was hushed and his throat tightened. Something inside him said to flee, that a dragon was not worth the cost but he felt himself drown in those black eyes.
Lucerys drew a dagger. Valyrian steel, a handle of ivory. A little thing. He did not wince as he drew the blade across his palm and let the blood drip along the melting edge of the candle. “Close your eyes.”
A glimmer of silver against the red firelight was the last thing Aemond saw before –
He claims one of the largest wild dragons in Valyria five moons later and names her Vhagar to honor the goddess.)
The temple Lucerys serves is the most magnificent of them all, fitting for the son of a dragonlord. All eyes follow the boy as he hands the glass candle to one of the other priestesses next to the pit. They bow to one another and then Lucerys bows to the priestess on the platform before taking his spot in the pit, dropping to his knees and extending his arms out before him, palms up. Once he is on his knees, he disappears from Aemond's sight into the pit and he has to crane his neck, only able to see Lucerys's head and the curve of his elegant throat as he tilts his face up.
“Vhagar,” the priest calls, holding the steel blade for the crowd to see. “We pray to Vhagar the goddess of war and fate for victory in battle against the Rhoynar, for glory to those who fall and for safe passage home to those who live. We pray for the gods to smile upon the Valyrian empire.” The priestesses begin to chant and Aemond can see Lucerys's lips move where he kneels in the pit.
The bull groans as its throat is cut. It makes Aegon blanch and wince, turning his head away. Despite himself, Aemond's mouth curves in disgust. Blood rains down on Lucerys, soaking through his white robe and plastering his curls to his head. The little priest holds his arms out with his palms facing up as the animal bleeds out over him.
Aemond's mother had witnessed one ritual once and said, “Barbaric” and had never attended another. The harsh stench of blood filled the temple. Yet Lucerys is still lovely, even drenched in gore. It drips into his open mouth, his eyes. He welcomes it with arms outstretched.
When the waterfall of blood slows to a lazy trickle, he steps out of the pit, his robe nearly black, dripping where he walked. “Vhagar says our dragonriders will see victory in battle on the morrow and for many days after,” the high priest yells to the assembly. “She says our empire will continue to grow and we will conquer many other lands.”
The crowd is jubilant as the priests throw the bull onto the flames at the altar as an offer to the gods. Slaves arrive with food as the feast begins. “Finally,” Aegon mutters, reaching for a leg of roast chicken when a serving girl passes with a platter. Aemond hums softly and watches Lucerys vanish down a hall surrounded by the priestesses. He waits, watching the other feast, partaking only a little. Dancing girls arrive and the crowd turns raucous as wine flows freely. Most other men are restless and anxious the night before leaving for battle but Aemond is bored, feeling as if his blood is moving more slowly than usual. Aegon soon joins the others but Aemond stays seated, nursing a cup of wine and waiting until he can disappear undetected. A girl sits in his lap, a fine Valyrian beauty but Aemond pays her no mind as she kisses his cheek and asks him to dance and eventually she sulks off.
Another half hour passes when Aemond slips out of the feast hall and begins to stalk the dark corridors within the temple. Torches light the way and the tell-tale trail of bloody footprints lay a path but Aemond could find Lucerys's chambers even in the dark, years of trysts burning the route into his mind.
He draws his sword on the maids helping Lucerys dress after his bath and they hide their faces and vanish into the corridor. The room is modest: a bed against the opposite wall, a heavy wardrobe, a desk, a full length mirror. His nephew is scrubbed clean and perfumed standing before the mirror, not a drop of blood remaining on him, once again in a robe of simple white wool. The dark eyes flit from the blade to Aemond's face. “They will miss you at the feast,” is all he says. He fastens the silver chain with the dragonglass pendant around his neck. “I know Aegon will want you to join him in whoring after.”
“He has Daeron for that.” Aemond stands behind Lucerys, wrapping his arms around the priest's small frame, pulling him flush against him. His hardening cock presses against Lucerys's back. “You are the only one I want.” He presses a kiss to the clean curls as his hands roam over Lucerys's body, pinching nipples and feeling them harden even under the white wool, gliding over the flat belly before finally dipping between his legs. Lucerys whimpers and tries to hide his face in Aemond's chest, hips arching to welcome the touch. His uncle gathers the robe and lifts it around Lucerys's waist before pushing down his smallclothes to reveal the prize beneath.
A perfect little pink cock, half-hard, trapped in a cage of delicate silver with a ring around the base of his sack. A lock glints at the top. “How sweet,” Aemond murmurs, trailing his fingers over it. It twitches in response and he wraps a hand around the length. Luke's cock is a perfect handful for Aemond. He presses a kiss to his nephew's temple. “You have not removed this, have you?” He knows what the answer is, as he has the only key, kept on a chain in the solar in his manse. “You have remained chaste for your uncle.”
“For the gods,” Lucerys corrects but his little hand joins Aemond's as his uncle's trails lower, over the sack and between the globes of his ass, circling his hole. A good heat starts to build in his belly as he slips a digit in shallowly. Lucerys's finger soon follows, both searching inside. When Aemond brushes against the swollen spot, Lucerys whimpers. “Please, uncle.” The voice is soft, broken. “I need release. You denied me last time we were together.”
Aemond smirks against the brown curls tickling his face. Denying Lucerys his release was a favorite past time of Aemond's but the cage was new. His own cock twitches at the thought of his nephew, flushed and begging which turned into weeping as Aemond put the cage on him. “Tonight,” he says. “I will send a carriage for you and you will join me at my manse.”
Lucerys makes a noise. “Please, I have been in pain for days.” He guides Aemond's free hand to his sack. It is warm and heavy. “I have felt it here. It has been building but I cannot – my fingers are not – that spot inside – ”
“Hush,” Aemond pets his belly to soothe him and feels the muscle flutter until his hand. “I will have you tonight. You will have to behave until then.” He grinds his cock against Lucerys's back once more before pushing the boy away. “I, however, need my release now.” When the boy scoffs, Aemond slaps him across the face. “On your knees,” he commands. Lucerys hesitates and Aemond slaps him again. The boy pulls up his small clothes and lets his robe fall around him before kneeling before his uncle.
Delicate fingers untie the laces of Aemond's breeches, pausing to trace the outline of his hard cock, pulling them down to the middle of his thighs with his small clothes. Lucerys's eyes darken at the sight, his lids lowering, his mouth falling open. He wraps a hand around the shaft and pumps to bring Aemond to full hardness. Soft lips suckle at the head, slowly taking the rest, a muffled moan causing vibrations around Aemond's cock.
Not for the first time, Aemond wishes Lucerys were one of the slaves sold to the temple instead of son of a dragonrider. If the boy were a slave, Aemond would gladly pay any price for the boy, to keep him in his manse as his bed warmer and companion. His eye rolls back as that sweet mouth works on his cock, hot and wet, lips folded over teeth, delicate hands working what he cannot swallow. They have done this enough that he can see Lucerys's wet eyes and pink cheeks even with his eye closed. If the cage were not on Lucerys's cock, he knows the boy would be stroking himself, trying to reach climax at the same time as Aemond.
Controlling Lucerys's release is delicious. If the boy lived in the manse with him, Aemond would be able to control him further – what he ate, when he slept, what he wore, who he was allowed to see, when he bathed. The thought makes Aemond moan and he cannot help when his fingers tighten in Lucerys's dark curls and he begins to thrust roughly into his mouth. His little love makes a noise in protest and slaps Aemond's thigh but he pays him no mind as his hips work, the tip of his cock sliding down his throat with each thrust. “I will finish on your face,” he growls. “And you'll return to the feast covered in my spend. Everyone will know you have been taking my cock since you were ten-and-three. Everyone will know you belong to me.”
Lucerys cannot reply but when Aemond opens his eye, he sees tears streaming down his cheeks, his jaw working furiously to match Aemond's clumsy, erratic movements, his hands working the base and playing with the heavy balls at the base. The way Lucerys never backs down from a challenge is one of the qualities Aemond loves most about him. No matter what Aemond did to him, Lucerys accepted it and returned for more. Heat builds in his lower belly and he feels his balls tighten. Holding Lucerys's head still, he gives a few more short, sharp thrusts before he spills down his throat. He wishes he could finish on Lucerys's face and force everyone to see, wishes he could fuck him in front of an audience like one of their rituals and claim him publicly – but this will have to suffice for now. Lucerys sucks him through his release, tongue lapping at the tip, swallowing every drop.
Big brown eyes gaze up at Aemond imploringly as his softening cock slips out of the pink lips. “Open,” Aemond commands. Lucerys does. His mouth is empty, clean, no trace of seed left. Aemond spits in his mouth. “Swallow.”
Lucerys does.
The carriage arrives long after night has fallen. Aemond meets him in the garden, dismissing the slave who tried to help Lucerys down, instead offering the boy his arm before sliding it around his waist. “My cooks have prepared a lovely dinner,” he says.
“Did you not eat enough at the feast?” Lucerys complains. The little priest is lovely in a long white robe so sheer that Aemond can see his nipples and cock through it; when he squints, the glimmer of the cage between Lucerys's legs winks at him. A gold necklace in the shape of a dragon winds around the long, slender neck, rubies glittering for its eyes and a belt of gold cinches his waist. Tiny dragonglass beads are woven into his dark hair and gleam when they catch the light. His steps are dainty, reminding Aemond of a fawn learning to walk. He leans against his uncle, clutching his arm. Aemond smiles and reaches down to Lucerys's ass, giving it a squeeze.
(Aemond took a jade phallus with a flared base out of his pocket. It was smaller than his own considerable member but he knew Lucerys would feel every inch of it. “You will wear this,” he instructed Lucerys.
The boy licked at the corners of his mouth and pulled a face. “I will do no such thing.”
Taking the boy's chin in his hand, Aemond forced his face up to look him in the eye. Lucerys's gaze glinted with disobedience. Aemond had to fight the urge to take him on the floor, to teach him a lesson. “You will wear it or you will serve me tonight yet have no release of your own.”
Lucerys chewed his lip and pouted but bent over the desk and allowed Aemond to oil the phallus before sliding it inside. To be cruel, Aemond fucked him a bit with it, touching the spot inside him, making Lucerys whimper and ball his hands into little fists. When Aemond was finished, Lucerys was flushed and sweat glistened on his brow. Aemond knew if he touched his caged cock, he would find it dripping. “You are cruel,” he hissed.
Aemond smiled, helping Lucerys straighten his robe and stand on uneasy legs. “You love my cruelty.”
“I do not,” Lucerys muttered.
All through the feast, Aemond watched his little love take tentative steps, keeping his movements slow and careful, the color always high in his cheeks.)
Aemond takes his seat at the head of the table, admiring the impressive dinner his cooks prepared. When Lucerys begins to walk to the other end of the table, Aemond tsks. “Here. Sit with me,” Aemond instructs, patting his lap.
Like a child, Lucerys folds himself into Aemond's lap, curling against his chest. Aemond rubs a soothing hand up and down Lucerys's back, feeling him relax slowly and he lifts his chin to press a kiss to his lips. Lucerys kisses back hungrily, pawing at Aemond's tunic and moaning. “Aemond,” he murmurs. “I need – I need – ”
Aemond merely breaks away after a moment, gives Lucerys's ass another squeeze and reaches for the plate of fruit on the table. Lucerys makes a noise but Aemond pays him no mind, instead taking a forkful of roasted carrots and holding it to his lips. Lucerys opens his mouth and lets Aemond feed him by hand. More carrots follow, then mutton chop, lentils, a salad of spinach and radish. Lucerys watches Aemond with wide, dark eyes, eating dutifully and murmuring his thanks after every bite. When Aemond feeds him blood orange and berries, Lucerys licks the juice off his lover's fingers, suckling them clean. Between bites, Aemond dabs at his mouth with a napkin and holds a cup of pear brandy to his lips, encouraging him to take long drinks. He watches as Lucerys's nipples harden under his gown and his cock twitches with arousal. Soon, his boy is loose from drink and pliable in his arms, chasing Aemond for kisses, groping between Aemond's legs and rubbing his hardness against his uncle's belly.
“You are being cruel again, uncle,” he whines. His speech is blurred from drink. He smells of fruit. Aemond likes him best this way, when he is most suggestible to what his uncle desires. “I am not cruel to you.”
Yes, you are, Aemond does not say. You prefer to serve your gods than me. Instead, he presses a kiss to Lucerys's mouth and stands, taking his nephew with him. Lucerys is light in his arms and he squeals in delight, winding his arms around Aemond's neck. He kisses his uncle's scarred cheek. “My lord,” he murmurs. “My love.”
The words are sweet and light a pleasant heat in Aemond's belly as he carries him to his solar and sits him on his desk. There is a fire burning in the hearth, the room comfortable and warm. Lucerys hums to himself and kicks his bare feet as Aemond opens a drawer, his eyes widening when Aemond shows him the small silver key. “Yes,” he murmurs. He lifts the hem of his gown and shows Aemond his trapped cock. “Yes, Aemond, thank you, thank you, you are so good to me.”
Kissing Lucerys on the lips, Aemond sits in his chair, spreading his legs. “I will unlock you, but you must give me something in return, sweetling.” He can't help a smirk when he sees Lucerys lick his lips at the sight, his eyes dark and lidded.
“Please...” the boy whimpers, touching his own length. “Please, I ache.” Aemond merely shakes his head and gestures down. The boy whines but kneels between Aemond's spread knees, nuzzling at the growing hardness between his legs. He moans when he frees Aemond's cock, pressing kisses up and down the length, rubbing it against his cheek. “Will you finish on my face, uncle?” he asks, wrapping red lips around the fat head.
The thought is tempting but Aemond shakes his head. He pets Lucerys's hair, brushing the curls away from his face. His dear boy is the picture of innocent fragility, pale and blushing with his big eyes and long lashes. He would look so beautiful covered in Aemond's spend, so corrupted. “No, sweet boy. I think I will finish inside you tonight.”
Lips run up and down the hot length, moaning and grunting as he slurps a bead of precum. Whenever he begins to withdraw, Aemond pushes his head back down, holding it in place. He does not fuck his throat the way he did earlier in the day, but he pumps his hips lazily, enjoying the slide in and out of the warm, wet mouth.
It is only when Aemond sees the tears rolling down his beloved's face that he lets his cock slip out of his mouth. Lucerys lifts his gown around his waist and straddles his lap, nuzzling his cheek. “Aemond, it hurts,” he whimpers, guiding Aemond's hand between his legs. His cock and sack are both warm to the touch and Aemond can feel his cock leaking even inside the cage. Aemond reaches behind him and presses at the phallus inside Lucerys's hole making him shriek. “I cannot bare it any longer. I am too full inside.” He starts to weep in earnest, rubbing his cock against Aemond's belly and pushing back against his fingers, fucking the phallus deeper.
Aemond hushes him with a kiss and slowly withdraws the phallus from Lucerys's body, leaving it on the desk. The boy sighs in relief and murmurs his thanks, burying his teary face in Aemond's neck, little fingers clutching his doublet and weaving into his hair. Oil leaks from his hole, dribbling onto Aemond's thigh but he pays little mind as he maneuvers Luke to lift himself. “Raise yourself up, darling,” Aemond soothes, lifting Lucerys's arms and helping him remove his gown and then petting his bare back. He gathers some of the oil leaking from Luke's hole onto his fingers and swipes it over his hard length. He hisses at his own touch, more aroused than he realized and guides Lucerys to impale himself on his cock.
Another sob escapes Lucerys's mouth as Aemond begins to thrust upward slowly. He is gentle but his sweet still whines. “Too much. It is too much.” His words slur. He drools on Aemond's shoulder.
“Shh,” Aemond whispers, kissing Lucerys's curls and petting his back. His nephew raises his head from Aemond's chest and kisses him, holding Aemond's face in his hands. “Good boy,” Aemond murmurs against his mouth. Something warm and soft settles in Aemond's chest as Lucerys's fingers caress his cheeks. “Sweet boy.”
With one hand resting on Lucerys's ass, fingers touching the stretched rim of his hole, feeling where his own cock works in and out, where their bodies are joined, the other hand reaches for the key on the desk. “I need help, sweetling. I need you to hold the lock.”
Tears streaming down his face, Lucerys holds the lock in place as Aemond inserts the key. With a click, the cage unlocks and Lucerys bites down on his lower lip as Aemond eases the cage off. His little cock is nearly purple and leaking profusely. Aemond gives him a few strokes. The flesh hot. More pearly fluid drips from the tip and Aemond collects it on his fingers, putting them in Lucerys's mouth. “Does it hurt?” he asks.
Lucerys nods, moaning around his fingers. He clenches his hole around Aemond's cock. “You have never left it on so long before. You were cruel.”
“Oh, my sweet love.” Aemond removes his fingers from Lucerys's mouth and kisses him. Lucerys nips at his lower lip and licks into his mouth. He tastes good, like pear, with a hint of salt from his tears. Aemond could drown in him. Lucerys continues to rub his little cock against Aemond's hard belly, frantic for his release, and Aemond is generous and wraps a hand around him, stroking long and slow, enjoying the soft weight of it in his hand, the velvet heat surrounding his own cock, the silky slide of Lucerys's skin against his own.
“Aemond,” Lucerys whispers. He is panting, twitching. Aemond can tell he is close. His breath comes in soft puffs against Aemond's lips between kisses. “Aemond.” His hand rests on top of Aemond's, helping him pump his length and his hole squeezes into a vice around Aemond's cock. Aemond's violet eye meets Lucerys's big, dark ones. His gaze is adoring. Aemond rests his hand against the curve of Lucerys's jaw and kisses him, sliding his tongue into his mouth.
“Ohhh,” Lucerys whimpers as he reaches his peak. His entire body tightens and trembles, shaking against Aemond as his spend coats his uncle's hand and both their bellies, his thighs clenching around his waist. His eyes roll back in his head and he flushes from the roots of his hair down to his chest, keening softly, hips rocking as he chases his release.
“Good boy,” Aemond hums into his nephew's mouth, stroking his hand down his neck. “So good for me.” He puts his other hand to Lucerys's mouth. He feels his own release building but he keeps it at bay, instead rubbing Lucerys's spend on his lips. His little sweetling begins to lap it clean without Aemond having to ask, kissing the palm and each finger, sucking at the webbing of his thumb. “You are so beautiful.”
“I love you, uncle.” Lucerys grinds himself down on Aemond's cock. “I want you to finish inside me. I want to feel it.” He sucks on Aemond's fingers greedily, a glint in his dark eyes.
Only too happy to oblige, Aemond squeezes Lucerys's hip with his free hand and thrusts up into him roughly. Lucerys stares at him with his wide eyes and pretty lips and Aemond feels a warmth spread in his belly and his sack tighten. “Little priest,” Aemond says, taking his fingers out of Lucerys's mouth so he can kiss him. Tomorrow he will fly to war thinking of his nephew and sleep in a cold bed but tonight he is soothed by little hands holding him and dark curls. He gropes the soft globes of his ass, once again reaching for the spot where their bodies are connected. When Lucerys moans against him, Aemond reaches his peak, finishing with a grunt and spilling inside his nephew. “My love,” he murmurs. “My little love.”
They sit together, Aemond's softening cock still buried to the hilt inside Lucerys, lazily thrusting in and out, pushing his seed deeper and stroking the stretched rim of his hole. Lucerys dozes against his shoulder, the drink and exertion and force of his release making him tired. Aemond strokes his back, listening to the fire in the hearth and his love's quiet breathing.
“I will miss you when you are away.”
“Hmm?” Aemond trails his fingers up and down Lucerys's spine. “What's that, pet?”
“I will miss you,” Lucerys repeats. Aemond can feel his long lashes fluttering against his skin. His voice is so soft Aemond can barely hear him. “I always miss you when you are in battle.”
Something softens and melts inside of Aemond. A gentle feeling spreads in his chest. “My sweet boy,” he says, turning his head to kiss Lucerys's curls. “You know I will return to you.” Carefully, he stands, his cock still buried inside Lucerys, holding him in his strong arms. The boy wraps his long legs around his waist, locking his ankles behind his back and his arms cling to Aemond's neck. He makes his way down the hall to his bed chamber, nude and carrying his boy and uncaring of what his slaves may think.
When they lay together in bed, Aemond curls around Lucerys.
Aemond wakes to find Lucerys praying over him.
He can smell blood without seeing it and feels the wetness of a rune on his brow. A glass candle burns in the corner of the room. The light is too bright, hurting Aemond's eye, making Lucerys's pale skin look like a blazing sun. The boy kneels next to the bed, his head bowed. Aemond cannot make out what he is saying, only hearing a low murmur.
“Lucerys?”
When his nephew does not respond, Aemond touches his folded hands. Lucerys startles and then looks sheepish. A blush paints his cheeks; the glass candle turns it burning red. “Did I wake you?”
Aemond grunts in the affirmative. “Was the bull not enough?” he asks, voice dry.
“I saw you in the flames,” Lucerys whispers. “I prayed today and I saw you in the flames. You were in Ny Sar. You were bloodied.”
Aemond reaches out his hand and touches his love's hair, brushing it away from his face. He cannot help the smile tugging at his lips. He has never feared battle but his little priest has never been false with what he has seen in the flames. “And this concerns you?”
“I am always concerned when you are away.” Lucerys's voice is petulant. “I have seen enough of our riders fall in battle. I do not wish for that to happen to you.”
“You doubt the gods.” Aemond grasps Lucerys's hands and pulls him back onto the bed, seating him in his lap. He feels his cock stir where it lays trapped between Lucerys's and his belly as he mouths at his nephew's breastbone.
“I worry,” Lucerys stresses.
“You have not seen my prowess in battle.” Aemond flicks his tongue at a nipple. Lucerys's inhale is shaky. Aemond's fingers slide between his cheeks, circling his hole. His boy is still loose and slick from earlier. They will require little preparation. “Save your fears for your brothers, mother and Daemon.”
“But you are the one – ” Lucerys ends his own thought before he can finish it but Aemond knows what he means. The little hand wraps around his cock and sinks down onto it. Lucerys whimpers despite his looseness, the slide silky and exquisite like it always is. His hands grasp Aemond's shoulders as he begins the riding him slowly and leans in for a kiss.
They move in unison, Aemond bucking his hips into his nephew as Lucerys rolls his. Their hands wander in the dark, groping and clutching, pinching skin and then soothing it with a comforting pass. When Lucerys's tears dampen his cheeks, Aemond kisses them away, hushing him and then wraps a hand around him to bring him off. The glass candle makes their skin appear silvery white and Lucerys's eyes are black as shadows, and they burn. He reaches his peak and fills his nephew again, letting the boy clench and milk him dry. Take it all, he thinks, Take it all until I have nothing left to give, it all belongs to you.
The next morning, they break their fast in silence. Lucerys helps Aemond with his armor, black steel chased with gold and a helmet shaped like a roaring dragon. Lucerys's face is calm but he kisses Aemond's mouth and knuckles before his uncle leaves and Aemond kisses his forehead to soothe him.
The battle is a hard won affair but the dragonlords are victorious, capturing Ny Sar after one week. Aemond leaps from Vhagar during the battle to fight with his sword and finds himself covered in the blood of the Rhoynar. He bathes in a fountain in the city once it is captured.
When he returns home, Lucerys is waiting for him at the manse. He is wearing his priest robe of wool and dragon glass pendant. Aemond can see his lips twitching and his eyes shine.
Aemond kisses him on the mouth.