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Valarr can smell his cousin before he even opens the door to his rooms. When most smell the spicy ash scent of Aerion Targaryen, they do whatever they can to avoid a run-in with the volatile Brightflame. Once, Valarr would have done the same, but now the scent beckons to him like a beacon. He lets the door click shut behind him, feeling immeasurable pleasure bubble into his chest at the lovely, lovely sight before him. One desperately needed after the day he’s had.
His husband is languidly stretched out on their bed, bare as the day he was born. The afternoon light from the window paints his pale skin in golden shimmers. His white Targaryen hair is radiant in the light, crowning his husband in glowing silver rays. His alpha purrs, coiling in his chest in answering dragon song to the beautiful creature being offered to him. Aerion’s violet eyes dance up at him. Wicked amusement and greed for his alpha shadow their purple depths.
Valarr steps closer. One slow step at a time. His hands unlace his doublet patiently, even as his alpha urges him to go faster, to not keep their omega waiting. Aerion brings his knees up, wantonly spreading his smooth thighs so Valarr can see him fully.
His pink hole is already shiny and wet with slick. His outer lips are swollen. Valarr growls, anger suddenly lashing through him. “You started without me.” His voice is guttural. Aerion only smirks – the little brat – dipping a hand between his thighs to spread himself open for Valarr.
“You took too long,” Aerion taunts. His back arches on the bed as his fingers play with his swollen clit. The bundle of nerves already raw from being played with seem to mock Valarr.
Valarr’s alpha snarls unreasonably that something other than himself is giving their omega pleasure. He abandons the slow unlacing of his clothes to snatch Aerion’s slim wrists in his hands. Aerion whines even as he laughs delightedly seeing Valarr’s usually restrained temper coming undone from his actions.
“You wicked omega,” he admonishes. He climbs over the smaller man, his alpha settling now that they’re in control. Aerion’s supple legs wrap around his waist. Valarr grinds his clothed cock into Aerion’s core, knowing his breeches are going to be ruined from the slick now soaking into them. Aerion looks like a cat with cream as he bares his throat for Valarr and grinds back onto Valarr’s cock in open, impatient invitation.
How sweetly his omega submits for him. He buries his face into his omega’s scent gland, letting it wash over him. Aerion is pliant as Valarr pins his arms above his head, peppering kisses and bites to his neck. His omega whimpers at the stimulation even as he tries to bend into a position to give Valarr easier access.
Despite his onery nature, Aerion never hesitates to offer Valarr everything of himself. Aerion had once offered to follow Valarr naked through the palace, so his husband could have him whenever he needed stress release, after Valarr had grumbled over breakfast about his day’s meeting schedule. To this day, Valarr still doesn’t know if Aerion was fully joking. His omega takes a very great deal of pride in letting others know to whom he belongs.
“You smell like heaven.” His words are slurred, mind fogging as he teeters on the verge of being scent drunk. He releases Aerion’s hands, desperate to touch the soft skin beneath him. Aerion croons and hums soothingly as Valarr traces his ribs, his chest, lifts his waist to deepen their grinding, digs his fingers bruisingly into his thighs, twines them through that tempting silver hair to maneuver his omega’s neck right where he wants it.
Aerion himself is shivering in delight at the unadulterated attention. His hands thread their way into Valarr’s soft locks, slim fingers trace his spine through his shirt. He presses kiss after kiss to Valarr’s hair, eyes, shell of his ears, anything he can reach as he sinks into the growing cloud of combined pheromones. “You’re tense, alpha,” he moans lowly. “Let me help you.”
Valarr chuckles into the center of Aerion’s chest. He presses a kiss to where he feels Aerion’s heart beating in his breast. “You would be too if you had to listen to crop yield debates for 6 hours.” He raises his mismatched eyes to meet violet ones.
Aerion’s lip curls disdainfully, even as his eyes scan Valarr’s face softly for signs of overburden he can ease. “Why would I want to sit in a room with peasant farmers for even a minute?”
Valarr nearly rolls his eyes. His conceited, entitled, little omega. “It’s not the farmers we meet with. It’s the merchants buying their crops.”
Aerion does roll his eyes but begins caressing Valarr’s face gently in his hands. “Semantics. It sounds awful.”
Valarr’s eyes close at Aerion’s ministrations, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Feeding the capital is important. Prevents riots and all that.” His nose follows the veins in Aerion’s wrist. His fangs sink lightly into the meat of Aerion’s arm in a love bite. Not hard enough to break skin, but there will be a bruise there tomorrow.
Aerion scoffs, tugging his hair in a chiding pull at the bite. Aerion battles with his pride at being visibly marked by his alpha beyond their mating scar and his vanity in perfect appearance. Valarr makes it is his life mission to ensure Aerion never wins that battle to either one way. He marks his omega often and throws more money than he should into clothes, scented oil, hair potions, and perfumes for his husband.
“Riots can be suppressed,” Aerion dismisses, “what cannot be suppressed is how empty I feel while you lay here mauling my neck instead of fucking me.” Valarr laughs openly as Aerion’s face turns petulant. His omega is always sweet until he feels Valarr has neglected to do what Aerion feels is his utmost duty – keeping Aerion sated on his cock.
It’s Valarr’s own fault. He spoils his cousin and does nothing to try and change Aerion’s opinion that Valarr is his personal version of a stud horse to be trotted out whenever Aerion is needy. Valarr does not mind in the least. It brings a stupid grin to his face every time Aerion sweeps into a room with single minded focus to be impaled on his alpha’s cock until he feels better.
Aerion is now squirming under him, clever hands making fast work of Valarr’s clothes. The alpha hisses at the first contact of Aerion’s hand around his cock, pumping and squeezing him without preamble. Aerion groans as drops of pre-cum slicken his palm. He tugs incessantly on Valarr, trying to guide him to his cunt. Valarr resists him just enough to have the omega’s eyes snapping in fury at him. “If you spill another drop of your seed outside of my cunt, I’ll start telling people you’re impotent.”
Valarr pulls Aerion’s face to his, sealing their lips together in force. Aerion fights him, even as he opens for Valarr’s tongue to lick into his mouth over and over again. “That would be a hard argument to make,” Valarr gasps when they break apart, “when you already have three children by me.”
Aerion scowls, lifting his hips in an attempt to bring Valarr into his depths again. “I’m trying to have a fourth, if you care to help,” he snaps sullenly.
Valarr noses placatingly into Aerion’s cheek and slides inside him without warning. “Yes,” Aerion moans out loud and long at the same time Valarr bites out a rigid “Fuck” at the feel of his omega’s tight cunt squeezing him like a vice.
The smooth, silky walls of Aerion are a second home for him. They mold perfectly to the dips and ridges of his cock. He is quickly lost in his thrusts and the vision of Aerion’s hips absorbing the deep impacts with ripples of flesh. Aerion clings to him, in absolute bliss at being used again for his primal, instinctual purpose. No other alpha but his cousin would ever be worthy of him.
“You are made for this Aerion. My dragon,” Valarr grunts, rolling his hips in a new pattern that strokes deeper. Aerion’s eyes flicker with pleased madness, thighs falling apart wider, a purr vibrating his chest.
“Valarr,” he whines. His mouth opens to say more but the omega stumbles over his words as Valarr gives a particularly brutal thrust the omega feels in his throat. Each time Aerion opens his mouth to say more, Valarr snaps his hips harder to cut him off. It does not take long for Aerion to catch his game. “You bastard,” he manages to wheeze, fingers dragging marks down Valarr’s back.
Valarr laughs at his frustration but softens his thrusts without slowing his pace. He can feel his orgasm building and Aerion’s words of a fourth child have spurred his alpha on to knot his omega. “Tell me what you need,” he pants, cock twitching inside his omega. He can feel more and more pre-cum leaking from his tip. No doubt those bits of fertile seed are already soaking their way into Aerion’s womb. Valarr nearly snarls at how right that knowledge feels.
“Inside,” Aerion whines. “Need it inside.” His omega is nearly insensible underneath him, overcome with pleasure.
“It is inside,” Valarr teases, stirring his cock inside the very slick hole of his omega. His knot is starting to swell at the base of his cock. It catches on Aerion’s rim with each pump, but Valarr brutally pulls it out each time until Aerion is keening at the loss.
Aerion bares his small fangs at him in frustration. “Put your knot inside of me!” He struggles to lock legs, gone limp, tight enough around Valarr to keep him fully seated, but even if he wasn’t fucked out, his strength would not be able to match his alpha’s.
Valarr rides him harder, forcing the air from his lungs again so Aerion cannot gripe at him. The pulsating walls of his omega’s pussy suddenly constrict so tightly Valarr’s vision whites out for a moment. When it clears Aerion is writhing on his cock as he comes, sobbing at the absence of a knot in him. Valarr snarls, shoving his knot into Aerion’s cunt and holding deep as it inflates, locking them together. Aerion cries out at the feel and throws his head back in ecstasy as Valarr’s semen shoots out in ropes into his cunt.
Valarr does not know how long they lay there as his balls empty into Aerion in thick pulses. He is only encouraged to move when Aerion nips his shoulder, hands pushing at his shoulders weakly. Valarr scoops Aerion against his chest and turns them carefully to lay on their sides, knot still holding them together.
Aerion groans, burrowing his head into Valarr’s chest. “You had best give me another son,” he slurs demandingly.
Valarr’s eyebrows arch in amusement at the demand. “We already have three sons. Perhaps a daughter would be nice this time.”
He is briefly distracted as Aerion nuzzles his nose into chest hair, tickling across his chest. “I suppose Maegor will need someone to marry,” Aerion grumbles. “But she better not be one of those weakling court women without a brain between their eyes.”
Valarr presses a kiss to Aerion’s brow, smile tugging at his lips. Aerion may grumble, but his omega is quite the protective mate to their pups. Their pup could be born with a third arm and he’s sure Aerion would argue to the world that it is everyone else with two arms who are the born oddities. Not to mention Valarr did not miss the slight disappointment in Aerion’s eyes upon their last born’s birth when the mid-wife had said the babe looked to be a girl, but then announced it was a son once fully emerged.
“We’ll name her Visenya,” Aerion suddenly declares. Valarr can see his omega’s mind turning behind his eyes as his dragon imagines this new pup.
“I quite like Daenys,” Valarr suggests, just to see Aerion get waspish at him having the audacity to try and name Aerion’s children. He finds it quite amusing he is ‘just a stud horse’ in Aerion’s mind at times, meant only to help the omega grow his brood of dragonspawn.
“No,” Aerion’s voice is crisp. The omega must be sated well though because he immediately concedes, “we’ll name the next daughter Daenys.” Valarr’s cock, knot starting to go down, twitches back awake at the idea of pupping Aerion again.
Aerion feels the interest inside him. He pushes Valarr to his back, straddling his hips and starts slowly riding Valarr’s cock. Their combined slick and seed dripping between them. It is Valarr’s own personal rapture watching Aerion move atop him with his head thrown back in equal parts pleasure and exhaustion. “Rhaenyra,” Aerion whispers, “we’ll have three daughters for three sons. Visenya, Daenys, and Rhaenyra.”
Valarr grabs his hips, guiding the omega around his cock in a lazy rocking motion that lets them both feel each other deep and intimately. “How many children are you planning to give me?” Valarr runs a hand down Aerion’s chest to his soft stomach, imagining it firm and a round.
“As many as I want,” Aerion sneers, beginning to bounce in short drops that has Valarr gritting his teeth. “You will not deny me.” His eyes blaze at Valarr, challenging him to try and refuse. Valarr can only smile as Aerion uses him. He would not dare deny this dragon whatever he wanted.