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These days in the evening, Ser Duncan can be found residing in the Prince’s bedchambers practicing his reading which Aerion says he’s getting much better at. Dunk has a book in his hands, poring over the words about some tale of knighthood or other.
Prince Aerion is lying down upon the settee in his room, book held up to catch the candlelight as well. His feet are nestled in Dunk’s lap, toes flexing against his thigh every now and then as though to check his knight were still there. It rather reminded Dunk of a content cat kneading its paws into his thigh.
This is comfort for Dunk and he rather enjoys the way Aerion is comfortable enough with him now that he lazes about with Dunk in the evenings after supper in the Red Keep. It feels almost homely to him and Dunk truly enjoys it, seeing Prince Aerion’s quiet side when he’s not all prim and proper as he should be while stalking the halls of the Red Keep. Or when he’s all flushed with desire for Dunk and moaning his name in bed.
“Aerion?” Dunk calls one hand upon the prince’s leg as he finished his book.
“Mhm?” the prince hums as he continues to read, lilac eyes scanning the page all diligent-like.
A small smile spreads upon Dunk’s face as he watches Aerion, his chest going tight with a warm fondness for his prince.
“I’ve been wondering, what it would feel like if we were to switch roles,” Dunk prefaces, “You know, just for a day or something. You can be the knight and I’ll be the prince.”
Aerion’s eyes flicked up from his book at that, brow arching up elegantly as a teasing smirk lights his face, “Why, Ser Duncan,” he begins tone dripping with exaggerated shock, “You mean to reach far beyond your station with such a request!”
Dunk’s ears turn red now as his prince teases him mercilessly, “I only meant to ask what it feels like,” he says in earnest, one hand gently squeezing Aerion’s leg, “Whenever I watch you throughout the day you seem to make it all look so easy in your fine clothes and your smooth, charming talk. Meanwhile I’m stood there behind you all quiet-like in white.”
Aerion closes his book with a soft snap, setting it aside. He stretches out like a cat now, arms raised over his head, one foot sliding up against Dunk’s belly in a teasing little brush.
“Well since you asked me nicely, I’ll tell you,” he says meeting Dunk’s curious blue eyes. “Honestly? It’s just boring council meetings about taxes, trade and how well our grain stores are holding at this time of the year. Then it’s on to the even worse small council meetings with Uncle Baelor, my father and my brothers. The only good part of the small council meetings is the gossip at court. Who’s supposedly in bed with each other, or which whore the new Grand Maester of the Keep is seeing, courtesy of Daeron of course.”
Aerion lets his foot rest against the front of Dunk’s trousers now, his toes curling playfully against Dunk’s manhood, “I suppose the only part of my day I truly enjoy is my evening reprieve where I spend time here. With you.”
Dunk hums as his hand curls about Aerion’s ankle, stopping the prince’s foot from teasing him any further, “Surely there must be other things you enjoy while being a prince? I mean…you have the power to make people’s lives better with a snap of your fingers. One word from you and they’d likely pave the muddied streets of Flea Bottom.”
Aerion’s eyes sparkled with the hint of a challenge, “Sounds to me like that’s what you are interested in doing, Ser Duncan. Do you think you can handle my duties for a day while I handle yours?”
“I…suppose? The question is do you think you can handle my duties, Your Grace?” Dunk asks, “Would it…even be allowed?”
The prince laughs as he crawls over to drop his head into Dunk’s lap, “Of course it’s possible. Didn’t you just say one word from me will result in Flea Bottom being paved? How’s that any different from enacting a little…switch for say, one day?” Aerion asks, “I think it’ll be easy enough for me to pretend to be you, minus being as large as you, of course. I’m sure I can polish boots, carry a sword and follow your every order while you play at being a prince.”
“You on the other hand,” Aerion husks as he reaches a hand up to cup his knight’s cheek, “I’d bet you’re going to have a problem on your hands as soon as you sit in at the council, Ser Duncan. You’d be utterly lost trying to navigate all the politics at court without tripping over your own tongue.”
Dunk huffs a laugh as he takes Aerion’s hand and presses a kiss to the palm of it, eyes gleaming with a growing competitive streak, “You think so?” he asks. The prince is partially right, Dunk has never been too good with his words but, “I’ve seen how you work. Observed the way you converse. I think I know a trick or two. I’ve just never been given the chance to shine is all.”
“Alright then,” Aerion obliges with a grin, “I’ll give you the chance to shine. Let’s have a bet. Starting at dawn tomorrow, we’ll switch roles completely. You’ll be the prince and give the orders and I’ll obey them, right down to whatever ridiculous thing I know you’re going to ask of me,” he continues seeing Dunk’s cheeks already flush as Aerion reads his intentions, “We’ll see who breaks first. The winner gets to make a request of the loser. How about that?”
“I’m in,” Dunk grins back, “Staring at dawn tomorrow, you’ll be my knight, Your Grace and I’ll expect every order to be obeyed.”
“I suggest you go and think up something truly devious,” Aerion purrs, “I’d like to see how creative you can get.”
It would appear that with his new borrowed title, Ser Duncan could be rather creative indeed.
At the crack of dawn, Dunk had requested a fresh washbasin with lavender scented water. Which Aerion, eyes still sleep crusted had managed to find his way into the kitchens to pass said order on. Thankfully enough, the mere sight of their prince had the servants scurrying to obey him, so the water was brought up right around the time that Aerion returned to the room.
Dunk also issued the order that he would like to go into town with Aerion to accompany him. So to keep in line with their little switch up, Aerion had decided to dress himself like one of the peasants. He pulled his hood low over his face as they rode out together. Dunk was dressed in some semblance of finery that he might pass for a minor lordling and so their day began with their roles switched.
The market square at midweek is a hellish landscape.
Everyone seemed to be yelling and hawking their goods and wares — all at bargain prices!
Livestock nosed about in the mud and there were people packed in shoulder to shoulder with each other. Aerion made sure to keep close to Dunk’s side as they wandered from stall to stall. Already Dunk had bought a leg of roast and devoured it on the way. Then he’d thought to ask Aerion to buy him some Dornish Red to wash it down. Like he even enjoys that particular kind of wine! Aerion had rather thought that Dunk preferred ale! But he supposes, with coin, there isn’t any need for Dunk to curb his delights.
Which of course, led to Dunk buying a candied apple and devouring that while they perused a weapon’s stall where Dunk bought himself a new sword belt. Their next stop was a trinket’s stall where the woman tried to lure Dunk in with some pretty necklaces for the missus.
“He doesn’t have one,” Aerion whispered under his breath as Dunk pretended interest, looking over the simple velvet or leather chokers.
“Don’t mind the boy,” Dunk tells the woman, one hand on Aerion’s shoulder, “He’s still young, doesn’t know his master’s needs as well.”
Aerion grit his teeth as he let Dunk talk down to him. They were playing a game is all.
“O’course, good ser. Our necklaces are a fine present for any young woman to wear,” she continues, “’Ave your pick.”
“Actually, would you give us a moment?” Dunk says all kindly towards the woman now as he draws Aerion aside.
“You’re not actually thinking of getting any of those silly trinkets are you?” Aerion scowls, “They’re fake baubles the lot of them! Imitation rubies and whatever other gems. And who’re you going to even gift them to?”
Dunk chuckles, “Never you mind that, boy.”
Aerion scowls at him a soft little growl of displeasure leaving his lips, “I hate when you do that. I’m not a boy!”
“Well they’re none the wiser to it and we’re in disguise anyways,” Dunk says gesturing to their current dressing.
“Still…” Aerion chides, “I don’t call you a boy.”
“Because I’m too big a lad for it,” Dunk answers easily, “Now I have a task for you.”
“Oh, joy. Another task from my dear master!” Aerion snarks sweetly, “What’ll it be, ser?”
“There’s a stall across the square that sells boiled sweets,” Dunk says, “I’d like for you to get me some please.”
“You’ve just had a candied apple! And now you want boiled sweets too?! Your teeth are going to fall out at this rate, my lord,” Aerion tacks that on, “And besides, what money are you going to even buy it with if I decide not to buy it for you?”
“Well my money of course,” Dunk says as he reaches to jingle the purse at Aerion’s waist now.
“That’s my money!” Aerion hisses softly.
“Not right now it isn’t,” Dunk says with a smirk and a cheeky little wink as he jingles the purse in the palm of his hand now.
“Wha—” Aerion looks down to his empty belt, now lighter without the coin pouch that Dunk has lifted from him, “Thief!” he hisses softly at the man watching as Dunk takes a few coins and presses them into his hand.
“Go now and buy me my candy,” Dunk orders his tone all commanding even as he bears the silliest of grins.
Aerion curls his fingers about the coins, “Fine. If you want your teeth to rot so badly, I’ll go and get your candy,” he snarks, “Where shall I find you when I’m done?”
“The fountain at the square, we’ll meet there.”
Aerion heaves a sigh, “As you wish, ser~” he calls lugging all of Dunk’s purchases along as he goes to make yet another purchase, this time of a bag of boiled sweets.
The fountain at the market square is a sad little three tiered thing that spat out grey water in little trickles. Aerion waited there keeping an eye out for the tall man whom he would spend the rest of the day waiting upon. But it would appear that either they’d missed each other or Aerion had waited at the wrong square at the wrong fountain…
This had to be the only fountain in the square right? And also…how in the Seven Hells can he loose a seven foot giant in the market? After waiting for a moment longer, Aerion stalks back through the crowd, the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head. He tries to retrace his steps to see if Dunk might be at any of the previous stalls that they’d visited but the big knight wasn’t there.
Honestly! There’s no way that Dunk could possibly have disappeared, right? Aerion would be able to spot him with those great shoulder sporting a fine red tunic and a green cloak. But the longer he searches, the more disappointed and worried he grows. What if Dunk had gotten robbed and he was now bleeding out in an alley somewhere? Surely his height and size alone would have scared any attackers off, right?
Just then Aerion feels a tap on his shoulder and he turns to the right to find no one there.
“Looking for someone?” Dunk’s voice sounds beside him now and Aerion jumps, whipping about to find the big man beside him.
“Where in the Seven fucking Hells did you disappear to?!” Aerion snarls glaring up at him in anger.
“I strolled over to the back alleys for a bit,” Dunk answers pointing down the shadowy alleyway he’d just come from.
“Dressed like that?” Aerion continues, “You’re waiting to be robbed you are! Whatever were you doing back there anyway?”
“Thought I’d cause a bit of mischief,” Dunk answers with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
“And did you?” Aerion asks pointedly, wondering what sort of mess he’d have to clean up.
“Of course not,” Dunk replies honestly now, “I just…went to give some money to the poor.”
“Oh…”
It takes a moment for the fact to sink in and then Aerion’s eyes widen at Dunk, “Wait a moment! You took more money from my purse to ‘give to the poor’?”
“Aye, tis’ my money for the day,” Dunk corrects again, “I did tell them it’s in the name of Prince Aerion Targaryen, so I hope that will appease you. Now come along,” Dunk adds nudging Aerion’s arm, “We must head back to the Keep for the council meeting.”
Aerion lets out a huff as he follows after Dunk. Well at least he’s done some good in donating that money to the poor instead of buying more sweets or a new saddle for his horse. They approached the post where they’d tethered their horses and before Aerion could even think to mount his horse, Dunk said, “Go saddle my things up on your horse, boy.”
“Wha—?” Aerion begins in disbelief and then catches himself before the question can slip out. He offers his master for a day a tight smile, “Certainly, as you wish,” he says making to secure all of Dunk’s newly bought goods in place upon his horse.
“Shall I ride with you then?” Aerion asks as he looks up to Dunk seated upon his mount.
Dunk raises a brow at Aerion looking mockingly surprised, “You want to ride with me? On my horse?” he asks looking incredulous, “You’ll be walking back to the castle, boy! Now get a move on. We don’t have all day!”
Aerion glowers at him, teeth biting the inside of his cheek. It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine he thinks as he grabs the reins of his horse and trudges on ahead without another word to Dunk. The moment Dunk steps into the council chambers later on he’ll certainly be out of his league. He’ll be swimming with the sharks for sure.
Seated upon his horse, Dunk only grins shaking his head and laughing softly to himself as he watches Aerion walking upon the dusty road back towards the Keep. He’s being too harsh with the prince this morning. That he’s sure of. Maybe he’s letting all the power get to his head? But at the same time, it’s all just a little bit of fun. He had gotten the prince a gift after all, circling back to the stall with the necklaces before going off to do some charity in Aerion’s name.
He lets Aerion walk on for a bit more just till they’re on the outskirts of the town before Dunk spurs his horse on, riding up to Aerion and cutting him off.
“What is it now, ser?” Aerion asks as the shadow of his master for a day blocks his path.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Dunk tells him, reaching down and offering a hand to Aerion, “I think you’ve had a good walk. I’d prefer if you ride with me now.”
Aerion’s eyes narrow at him, all wary-like, “This isn’t some sort of trick, is it?”
“Certainly not,” Dunk assures, “Though you are welcome to continue walking the rest of the way back up to the Keep,” he adds nodding to the incline up towards the Red Keep. He watched the way Aerion’s eyes scanned the incline knowing all to well the prince was likely calculating just how defiant he can be. Then he watched Aerion’s throat work. He would break. Dunk is sure of it.
“Well? What’s it going to be?” Drunk prompts, hand still on offer to Aerion.
“I’ll ride with you then, ser,” Aerion mutters as he clasps onto Dunk’s hand letting the big man pull him up and sit him behind Dunk.
“Good choice,” Dunk purrs, “Now, put your arms around me. Best hold on tight as we’ll be going up a hill and I don’t want you falling off, boy.”
Aerion scowls at the back of Dunk’s head. Oh Dunk is playing the role of the master perfectly well and it seems he knows just how to scheme too. Aerion wraps his arms about Dunk’s large chest, hood pulled low over his face as they made the ascent. He rests his head against Dunk’s big, strong back, letting the motion of their mount lull him into a sleepy little daze.
He feels Dunk’s hand close about his now, thumb stroking lightly across the back of his hand, “Everything alright back there?”
“Mhmm,” Aerion hums in soft contentment, eyes shut, cheek pressed against Dunk’s warm back as something very much like fondness settles about him, “Wake me up when we’re back, Ser Duncan. I just need a bit of a nap.”
Dunk rumbles with a soft laugh and obliges his servant for a day a quick nap as he takes the ascent to the Red Keep at a slower pace than usual.
The council chambers is filled with an array of faces today.
King Baelor and Prince Maekar, the Hand of the King, fix Aerion and Dunk with notable looks when Aerion pulls out the chair he usually sits upon for Dunk at the table. Today he chooses to stand beside Dunk, instead of taking a seat as he normally would. Dressed in the Kingsguard attire, Aerion knows he’s turning heads.
Naturally, Aerion avoids his father’s glare as Maekar’s amethyst eyes spear into him. His brother Daeron and cousin Valarr are all trying to hide their own smiles as they keep their heads bowed, Daeron more so as his shoulders trembled with what Aerion can only guess is laughter. The rest of the council members did their best to pretend that this was perfectly normal for a Prince to be playing at being a Kingsguard.
Dunk sits as straight as he can, back pressed into the wood of his chair as King Baelor calls the meeting to an opening. The usual matters are brought up and already Aerion wants to doze off on his feet. A quick glance to the replacement prince however and Aerion finds Dunk actually listening to the conversation. He seems especially keen when one of the lords brings up a discussion about taxes and the welfare of the smallfolk.
“Which is why we’re going to need to increase our taxes. The funds we raise will go towards supporting the tourney for the Autumn Equinox celebrations.”
Ah, Lord Brander was always about raising the taxes. He never learns really that a man cannot live on taxes alone and Aerion only rolls his eyes subtly as he catches Daeron’s withering expression across the table. Most times it is their uncle who would nod along and then find a way to work around the increments in taxes.
Today however, Ser Duncan cuts in.
“Begging your pardons m’lords and, Your Graces,” Dunk begins voice all deep and partly uncertain as he looks around the table, “This morning I walked the markets with…um…my…” Dunk turns to glance briefly at Aerion beside him who was doing anything but looking at Dunk, “…uh…my knight. The truth is that people are already struggling as it is. Most families can barely afford to feed their children since the price of bread rose again. If you push for another increase now, it will only make things worse.”
The councilmen stilled into silence at that.
Someone coughed and another person sniffed loudly.
The silence burned on and Aerion bites the inside of his cheek now, thoroughly regretting the fact that he’s let this bet go through. Now Dunk will make a fool of himself.
Then Prince Maekar, Hand of the King leans forward, eyes narrowing as he addressed Dunk, “And how do you come to possess this knowledge, Ser Duncan?” his father presses, a snowy-white brow arched in question, “Did you speak with the smallfolk yourself or are you simply telling us what you think we wish to hear? Or perhaps you wish to further your own agenda?”
‘Seven fucking hells…’ Aerion purses his lips watching as Dunk’s hands clasped together under the table, nails digging into the flesh of his hand. He should save Dunk. But just as he thinks to open his mouth to do so, the prince for a day speaks.
“With respect, my prince, I do not stand to gain from anything. I speak only as a man who used to live amongst the smallfolk. I know what life is like, but that’s another matter,” Dunk answers, his words slow and measured as he meets Prince Maekar’s gaze steadily, “I spoke with the smallfolk too this morning, while we were in the market,” Dunk continues.
Aerion realises then why Dunk had taken so long to meet him back at the fountain in the square. The man had been off on his own mission while he’d told Aerion to buy him sweets! He’d been doing the real legwork speaking with the smallfolk and it was all in preparation for this, to bring the knowledge to the council. Something severely tender and fond aches in Aerion chest as he watches Dunk continue his speech.
“There was a baker, a washerwoman, a cobbler and two mothers with young’uns. See…if we were to lower the taxes for a season or two it might ease things a little for them. And…if perhaps some of the Equinox tourney’s funds might be diverted, it might go towards repairs for the wells in the poorer quarters. I can assure you clean water matters more to them than a week long tourney.”
Dunk’s delivery was a tad rough around the edges but Aerion can tell he’s done enough to impress both his father and uncle for the both of them were nodding solemn and slow. Defeated, his father sank back into his seat. Dunk had passed Prince Maekar’s test with flying colours.
“Sire, if we were to shorten the tourney on this account—” Lord Brander begins only to be subsequently cut off by his uncle’s placating hand being held up to him.
“Lord Brander your concerns have been highlighted clearly enough,” King Baelor answers calmly, “We note your interest in increasing the taxes and for seasons past we have already given you permission to do so before. Ser Duncan is right,” he agrees offering a supportive smile at Dunk, “The people need a reprieve from taxes. We shall do as he suggests. The grain taxes will be lowered for the next two seasons and have a portion of the tourney’s funds redirected to the repairs in Flea Bottom.”
Aerion felt awfully proud of Dunk now as he stood beside him. The rest of the meeting passed without much fanfare. Dunk contributed a few more times to other discussions involving the smallfolk and their welfare. Each time he spoke Aerion noted how his Uncle listened and managed to work things out to balance the requests.
When the council finally adjourned, Aerion filed out of the room behind Ser Duncan.
“So the dragon is playing squire to his knight now?” Daeron asks as he cuts Aerion off in the hallway outside the council chambers, “How does it feel to polish boots instead of having them polished for you, brother?”
Aerion scowls at his brother, “It’s not so different as fisting yourself to completion, Daeron, an act that I’m sure you’re more than familiar with,” he snarks watching the way Daeron gasped in a mock show of abhorrence for his vile words.
Beside him, cousin Valarr’s cheeks coloured all prettily as he thought to cut in as well to defend Daeron, “Careful dear cousin, we do not want good Ser Duncan getting used to being waited upon. He might not want to give your crown back.”
“Dunk’s not power hungry, you fools,” Aerion snaps back, “Don’t you have anything better to do than to badger us? Why don’t you go suck at each other’s faces!”
Daeron only laughs as he claps Aerion on the back, “You’re terribly fond of him~,” he whispers in a sing-song-tone leaning in to Aerion’s ear.
The younger prince shrugs his brother off now without a comment watching them take their leave.
Beside him, Dunk looks all sheepish, “Was I too much?” he asks of Aerion now, “I noticed you didn’t say a word to me at all at council…did…I perhaps…step out of line?”
“It seems to me my dear Ser Duncan, you are capable of swimming in a sea of sharks after all,” Aerion teases as he takes Dunk’s arm and guides him down the other end of the hallway back to his chambers, “I didn’t say a word to you because guards aren’t allowed to speak at the table. You know this. And I, for one, think you have been rather cunning, getting me to buy you boiled candy!”
Dunk flushes with a quiet sense of price now as he walks beside the real Prince, falling into step together, “So…you thought I did well then?”
“Fielding my father’s questions like that was perfect indeed,” Aerion answers truthfully, “You did well,” he assures.
Dunk’s ears turned red at Aerion’s rare praise, “It felt strange though to be seated in your chair,” he says, “Even though we were pretending…I didn’t think anyone would listen to me.”
“Oh the council is a very serious thing,” Aerion answers, “Everything is taken seriously. And you might have stumbled a bit but you knew what you were on about…so…” he bumps his shoulder lightly against Dunk’s arm as they turned a corner, “You’d make a terrifyingly good replacement for me in future if I decide not to sit in at council,” he teases.
“Oh no, I don’t think I could handle another round of that, honestly,” Dunk laughs all nervous-like, “I’m only glad I didn’t embarrass myself today.”
“So you admit defeat then?” Aerion asks sneakily.
“No! We’re not even done for the day!” Dunk answers.
Mid-afternoon finds Dunk lounging in the plush seating area set into the window alcove in Aerion’s room while his servant for a day has taken to polishing his armour. The afternoon sun makes Dunk’s eyelids feel heavy and more so especially after the wonderful meal he’s had of roast beef, potatoes and a leg of lamb.
He watches Aerion work now, the simple linen tunic seemed to drown the prince in all that cloth. He could certainly wear it as a dress with nothing else underneath but pale skin, ready for Dunk to mark.
Dunk pursed his lips at the thought. Aerion would look rather perfect indeed with the way that neckline dipped to reveal a pale collarbone and that beautifully slender neck which would be entirely perfect for Dunk’s new gift.
He wants rather desperately to test it out and so with his new found power, Dunk channeled his lordly self as he cleared his throat, “Come here, boy.”
At once, that silvery head whipped up, lilac eyes glaring daggers at him. Nevertheless, Aerion obediently wipes his hands on the rag and then goes to stand before Dunk’s spread thighs, “You really are enjoying this far too much, you great oaf,” Aerion chides, “What do you want from me now?”
Dunk grins, “I suppose I’m only trying to play the part as best I can,” he answers, one hand reaching out to grip Aerion’s wrist. His eyes take their time to travel up his servant for a day’s slim form, meeting accusing lilac eyes, “A prince deserves to have some proper service, doesn’t he?” Dunk begins watching Aerion’s eyes light up with curiosity.
“At all times of the day,” Aerion answers feeling his pulse quicken as Dunk drew him in closer, “Is there some game you wish to play, my lord?”
Dunk doesn’t answer. He only reaches for the small pouch he’d kept tied to his belt. From it, he produces a delicate piece of jewelry. A silver little bell set upon a soft, dark leather collar. Something he’s clearly bought after he’d sent Aerion off on his excursion for sweets. The tiny bell gave a soft musical tinkle now as Dunk held it up for Aerion to examine.
“I’ve bought a gift for you,” Dunk answers.
Aerion sucks in a breath, a low tug of heat already coiling in his belly as he eyes the silvery bell. He can only guess at what Dunk might request of him and the resulting thought causes a bright flush to crawl up his neck, painting his cheeks pink.
“I’d like you to put it on for me,” Dunk continues voice all low and teasing, “And then you’ll crawl over to me and warm my cock with your mouth while you wear it, understand? Every time you move, I want to hear that pretty little bell chiming away.”
Aerion’s flush darkens as his mouth opens and closes. For once in the entirety of today he’s genuinely flustered, “Y-You cannot be serious…” he mutters as takes a step back, feeling Dunk’s hand tighten about his wrist already stopping him from getting too far. His body thrills with excitement already, a sparking shiver coursing through him.
“I am most serious about this, boy,” Dunk replies as he jingles the belled collar teasingly, “You are my knight and servant for the day. And now I want you to serve me with your mouth, while you wear this bell. Will you do it, Aerion?” he husks, “Will you be my good little knight and get on your knees for me?”
Aerion lets out a soft whimper at the image Dunk paints. His hole clenches at the very thought of being utterly humiliated like this.
“Will you use that pretty mouth of yours on my cock?” Dunk continues reaching up to cup Aerion’s face now, thumb brushing possessively over those rosy lips, “I’d love to hear just how good you can be for me, boy.”
Aerion’s blush spreads to his ears now as he snatches the collar from Dunk’s fingers, the bell tinkling away merrily. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he worked to fasten the leather about his own neck.
The silver bell stood out against Aerion’s pale skin perfectly, just as Dunk had imagined. It settled just above the hollow of his collarbone, gleaming all innocently in the afternoon sun. He watched with a certain hunger now as Aerion turned, rather pointedly and walked back a few paces before stopping.
“Perhaps…it would please my lord more if I were to wear only his gift?” Aerion asks as he moves slowly, hands already working on the lacing of his tunic before he pulls it off all slow and sensual, baring his pale flesh to Dunk’s starving gaze.
Dunk gulps as he lets out a near tortured sound while the prince undresses, tossing the tunic aside. The next to go are his boots, then his belt and then his trousers. Dunk felt his cock throb in answer as he watches Aerion peel his trousers and smalls off his slim form him like a second skin. Then the prince stands there like some ethereal vision of a godling in the mid afternoon sun dressed in nothing but Dunk’s new gift.
“Gods be good…” Dunk breathes reverently watching Aerion’s lips curl up in a knowing grin.
He cannot take his eyes off Aerion as the prince sinks to his knees, the bell chiming softly with his movement. Dunk feels his mouth run dry as Aerion starts to crawl towards him on his hands and knees, every movement smooth and graceful like a cat taunting a mouse.
“Is this what you wanted, my lord?” Aerion asks, lilac eyes all devious now. Something playful had unlocked in him at Dunk’s request. He would never show this side of him to any one else. He would never bow for anyone…save for Dunk.
“Aye…you’re such a good boy,” Dunk husks the words sounding almost filthy like this when he says it, “You know me so well. Now come here,” he says patting his lap in encouragement.
Aerion laughs all sultry as he settles between Dunk’s spread legs, putting his head upon Dunk’s thigh. He rubs up on Dunk acting exactly like a cat now looking up at him through his lashes, “Shall I undress you, ser?” Aerion asks, his hands pushing at Dunk’s strong muscular thighs, coasting up them so that he could grab those powerful hips that knew only how to pleasure him, “You must be so eager to fuck my mouth, my lord.”
“Go on,” Dunk manages, voice all strained as he lets a hand stroke through Aerion’s hair gently, “I want to feel you. M’ eager for it…”
Aerion tuts softly leaning into Dunk’s touch as he reaches for the lacings on Dunk’s trousers. Already the big man’s cock is straining against the material. The outline of Dunk’s cock is a rather pronounced bulge under Aerion’s hand and he fondles the man lovingly, the little bell tinkling away merrily as he strips Dunk of his trousers and smalls.
“Look at you,” Dunk husks voice thick with satisfaction, as Aerion’s hand curls about his shaft, “My pretty little prince, wearing my gift like a pampered kitten.”
Aerion lets out a soft huff as he leans in now, lips pressing kitten soft kisses against the thick length of Dunk’s cock. He inhales deeply, that perfect, musky scent of his knight which he so loves. The bell chimes softly as Aerion takes that familiar girth into his mouth, licking and sucking at Dunk all slow and deliberate as he hollowed his cheeks.
“That’s it,” Dunk hisses praising Aerion, “You’re such a good boy, you are. Keep going…just like that…let me hear just how you much you like to serve me,” he husks as Aerion moves his head, bobbing up and down on his cock. Each shift makes the bell ring, constant and delicate. Aerion’s cheeks and ears are all flushed, it is embarrassingly cute Dunk is sure of it. Yet, his previously proud servant for a day continues to please him all eager-like.
Aerion hums at the praise, making a humiliating, needy little sound around the thick cock in his mouth. The silver bell at his throat gives a constant innocent ting-ting-ting with every bob of his head as he works Dunk’s cock, the slippery wet noises the furthest thing from being innocent.
His cheeks burn scarlet at noise the bell makes. It is the only reminder of how greedy and eager he’s being with Dunk now in the silence of his bedchambers. But Aerion keeps going, letting Dunk’s hand fist in his hair as his knight uses his mouth however he pleases, bruising Aerion’s throat with his length.
Dunk watches his prince with open adoration and lust in equal measure. The proud dragon prince has been collared and belled and he kneels now, ever so obediently between Dunk’s legs. He strokes a finger over Aerion’s lips stretched red and raw over his saliva slicked cock. Those pretty lilac eyes glisten too with unshed tears and Seven help him, this image of his delicate master serving him all eager-like this eats away at Dunk’s self control.
He puts a hand on Aerion’s shoulder a low groan rumbling in his throat now, “Gods be good…Aerion…s-slow! Slow down…I’m gonna…spend if you keep this up.”
Aerion hums about him, the vibrations travelling down right to his stones and Dunk trembles as the prince kneels up, hands splayed across his thighs. If anything, Aerion seemed to redouble his efforts at taking him down his throat, determined to push Dunk over the edge. The bell continued to chime eagerly, tinkling along as Aerion spits and slurps and licks at him.
Dunk’s hand tightens in Aerion’s hair now, breath coming in harsher pants as his hips canted upwards into that hot, wet throat.
“Fuck…th-that’s enough,” he rasps as he tugs Aerion’s off his cock with a wet pop. His spit slicked length hits his belly with a pathetic wet ‘thwack’ and twitches in disappointment.
Aerion kneels there panting softly, licking his pretty lips as he looks up at Dunk through his lashes. He slurps at the string of saliva connecting them, severing the connection entirely.
Before Aerion can say another word, Dunk hauls the slighter man up into his lap, settling Aerion astride his thighs.
Aerion’s breath hitches as their cocks slide together for a moment all hot and wet and heavy. He grinds himself up against Dunk, arms winding about his knight’s neck, all wordlessly needy.
“Ride me,” Dunk orders, “The same way you always do,” he continues as he reaches between them to line himself up against Aerion’s hole.
The blunt head of Dunk’s cock presses against Aerion’s eager entrance now and slowly, he sinks down with a whimper, shivers of pleasure running up his spine. The stretch of Dunk’s cock spearing up into him will always be overwhelming no matter how many times they fucked. Aerion will always enjoy it, that feeling of being opened up the most. The bell at his throat gives a little chime in agreement now as Dunk thrusts up into him, large hands pressing Aerion down such that he’s fully seated, that thick, pulsing length all hot against his inner walls.
Aerion moves his hips now, lifting himself up and then down upon Dunk’s cock, finishing each stroke with a little grind just the way he knows Dunk likes. Somehow being collared and belled by his big knight makes this whole act just that bit more intense. And what’s more, Dunk seems to be getting off on the little chimes of the bell too. Aerion on the other hand can only listen to the tinkle and blush even fiercer with each innocent chime. That sound signalled to the Targaryen prince just how eager his body is for Dunk, how much he enjoys this, their joining. Dare he even say, needs it even.
Aerion thinks to stop it, that Seven forsaken tinkling. He’ll continue their little game but not with that bell about his neck and he means to take it off. But Dunk lets out a low rumble catching Aerion’s wrists in his hands once he realises what’s about to happen.
“No, no, no,” Dunk tells the prince softly, tone gentle as he folded Aerion’s arms behind his back, trapping those slim wrists in his one large hand, “You don’t get to stop the bell, boy. I want to hear it every time you move.”
Aerion’s face flames with both shame and desire, “Dunk…please…!” he whines, hips undulating as he struggles uselessly.
“Hush, don’t be shy,” Dunk coos, his free hand squeezing Aerion’s pale hip encouragingly, “Don’t pretend you don’t like hearing it too, Aerion. Listen to how hungry you are for me.”
He watches the prince’s throat work, teeth biting into that plump red lower lip as he rocks himself on Dunk’s cock. Those delicate hips working him in a slow, deep roll. They lifted up off him and then sunk back down as Aerion lets out a needy whimpering whine. It breaks on a shaky moan as he continued to take Dunk’s cock, grinding at that angle, pressing against his sweet spot.
“See you’re dripping too,” Dunk tells him, his hand moving now to brush against Aerion’s heavy cock. The prince’s elegant length is flushed dark, bobbing between them and rubbing up on Dunk’s tunic, staining the fabric dark with his need, “You like this. Don’t you, boy?” he continues fisting Aerion’s cock now and stroking the prince in time to his rocking hips.
“Not a boy…!” Aerion pants stubbornly as he leans in, forehead pressed against Dunk’s now, arms still trapped behind his back.
A soft laugh bubbles up in Dunk’s throat as he leans into Aerion’s warmth, “Mmm not a boy. But my boy. How’s that?” he husks hearing the prince’s answering whine all sweet as his eyes fluttered close.
“Aye, thought you might like the sound of that,” he chuckles, capturing Aerion’s lips in a kiss, “My boy. That’s it, you keep riding me like that, my pretty boy. Let me hear that bell.”
“Fuck…” Aerion hisses feeling his balls drawing up. Dunk’s callused hand kept stroking his cock nice and slow as Aerion rode him, “You’re a…terrible master…!”
“You think so?” Dunk husks, watching half-glazed lilac eyes gazing down at him.
“I was working…” Aerion chides, “Your…armour—!”
“Can be polished later. Right now, your master needs to be taken care of.”
Aerion clenches tight about Dunk’s cock drawing a moan from his master, “Greedy…fucking…oaf.”
“Says the one riding me sweetly with a bell on,” Dunk husks, “Every time you move your hips, everyone in the next room and over can hear you. Think on that. They’ll hear what a good boy you’re being for me.”
“Seven Hells…” Aerion curses his head dropping to Dunk’s broad shoulder now, “Bastard…!” he cries, a broken little whine escaping his lips.
The bell needs to go.
Yet no matter how he tries to twist his wrists free to silence the incessant little thing, Dunk’s grip would not budge at all. Tough as Valyrian steel he’s being and Aerion’s sure his wrists will bruise up well come tomorrow.
“There’ll be no hiding for you today,” Dunk murmurs against Aerion’s ear, voice roughened by desire, “You keep riding me, let me hear just how much you love this, hm? How much you love my cock being stuffed up inside you, like this.”
Dunk thrusts up once and Aerion sobs, all embarrassed as he presses his face into Dunk’s neck. He obeys though, continuing to ride Dunk, hips rolling faster in desperation despite everything he said. With each thrust, the bell continues to ring ‘ting, ting, ting’, till the chiming alone drowns everything out, pushing Aerion closer to the edge. His cock aches something bad, all heavy and throbbing in Dunk’s palm.
“Dunk…” Aerion gasps, voice cracking, “Dunk…I’m…going to—”
Dunk’s hand shifts from Aerion’s cock now moving to squeeze one pretty, pale arse cheek, “Spend for me, my sweet boy,” he growls, still keeping the prince prisoner with his other hand, “Go on…let me feel you fall ‘part on me.”
Aerion keens, crying out Dunk’s name as the bell chimed wildly. His hips stuttering with desperation laced into each eager thrust. He worked himself off the edge and came hard between them both, spilling against Dunk’s torso. The prince’s spend came in thick hot ropes, streaking Dunk’s tunic. The tiny silver bell continued the shameless tinkling song the entire time.
In moments Dunk followed after his prince. His hips jerked up once and then again, spilling deep inside Aerion as a groan tears from deep in his chest now. He holds Aerion close, nuzzling against the prince’s hair as they both trembled together in the wake of their undoing. The bell gave another soft tinkle as Dunk let go of the prince’s wrists and Aerion shifted to wrap them about his neck, pressing close.
The prince’s bedchambers fell quiet now save for their ragged breathing.
For a long while after, Aerion stays draped over Dunk, pale arms wrapped about his knights thick neck. He kept his cheek pressed against Dunk’s sweat dampened shoulder, face still flushed as he nuzzled in close. Slowly, his breathing began to even out and then it deepened into a soft steady rhythm of one fast asleep.
Dunk shifted, looking down at Aerion now sleeping in his arms. He was surprised for all of a second before a fond, tenderly helpless smile flits unto his lips.
“Wore y’self out did you now, my sweet boy?” he murmurs voice warm with amusement.
Carefully, Dunk drew Aerion’s arms from about his neck. He lifted the sleeping prince off him and cleaned them both with a damp cloth, keeping his strokes careful enough that they might not wake Aerion. Then he carried the prince, cradled up in his arms over to his bed, laying the exhausted little dragon down.
The bell upon the collar tinkled softly as Dunk deposited Aerion in the bed before climbing in beside him. At once, the prince shifted closer, curling up against Dunk’s chest with another soft chime of a bell. His fair-haired head rested upon Dunk’s broad chest now and Dunk kissed the top of Aerion’s head as the prince let out a soft murmur of contentment, nuzzling closer in his sleep.
“I think we’ve both won today,” Dunk husks, “So rest well now, my prince.”
“I swear it was coming from Aerion’s room,” Daeron complained as he dragged Valarr along behind him, through the secret passage that led to Aerion’s chambers, “It was an annoying little chiming tinkling noise like a damned collared cat in heat!”
Valarr raised a brow, “Perhaps your brother finally got himself a proper pet that isn’t a large Kingsguard?”
“Please, he will not replace that large Kingsguard for some new pet,” Daeron scoffs as they reach the wall in which the holes in the tapestry had been cut. He pulls out the loose brick setting it aside as he puts his eyes to the peeping hole.
What he saw in Aerion’s room is enough to leave him stunned as he steps back in silence, motioning for Valarr to have a look as well, “Tell me I’m not seeing things.”
Valarr put his eyes to the peeping hole now and what he saw made him draw a breath.
Prince Aerion is curled up against Ser Duncan’s chest. He seemed to be wearing a collar of some sort about his throat with what looked to be a silver bell. That must be where Daeron had heard the noise coming from. Ser Duncan was settling in beside the prince now, pulling the covers up about them.
“Well?” Daeron hisses softly as he draws Valarr back.
“It could’ve been them.”
“It is them!” Daeron answers, “Shall we go give that big knight a bit of a scare?”
“Don’t,” Valarr cautions, “Cousin Aerion will not take kindly to it.”
“Aerion’s been fucked soundly to sleep,” Daeron snarks, “Come on, we’ll just scare him a little. Nothing serious, I promise.”
“Daeron—!” Valarr protests but his cousin is already setting the brick back and leading them around a corner to where a stone panelled wall shifts and opens onto Prince Aerion’s room.
“Well, well,” Daeron drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief as he traipses into Aerion’s bedchambers now from the secret passage, “What do we have here? A dragon collared and belled like a little kitten sleeping sweetly in his big knight’s watchful embrace. How utterly adorable.”
Ser Duncan’s eyes widen in shock as he gulps, visibly panicked.
“Relax,” Daeron continues in a soft whisper, “We mean you no harm. I only came to find out what that incessant tinkling was all about. I must say, that I certainly didn’t expect this Ser Duncan. You seem to have rather…creative…means for keeping my dear brother well and truly entertained.”
Ser Duncan’s ears turned red now as he shifts the blanket to cover more of Aerion’s bared shoulder without waking him. It is evident that the big man truly cares for his brother.
“Whose idea was it anyway? Your little switch-up?” Daeron continues.
“T’wasn’t mine exactly,” Dunk mutters, “But the…collar was…”
“And now you know it isn’t a pet that Cousin Aerion keeps, just Ser Duncan,” Valarr says with a soft laugh as he claps Daeron’s shoulder, “Come on leave them be.”
“Oh, wait till father hears that his precious son has been collared by his personal guard!” Daeron remarks gleefully.
“You’d think to tell Prince Maekar?”
“Naturally! Father, has to know.”
“No, please don’t…” Dunk whispers, “Aerion wouldn’t like it.”
Daeron gasps at that, “Did you hear that?” he asks tapping Valarr’s arm, “Ser Duncan calls my brother by name now.”
“Mm well you do seem to make Aerion happy more so than anyone else in this keep has done so far,” the eldest prince continues, attention returning to Dunk, “So I suppose we will keep your secret for now. But Gods know we aren’t the only ones who heard that bell of yours. I highly suspect that the entire keep will hear about the ghostly bells coming from Aerion’s chambers by morning so you’d best be prepared to answer when the questions start coming.”
Ser Duncan gulps and Daeron’s grin widens as he avails himself of a cup of wine courtesy of Aerion’s decanter, “To my brother and his very creative knight. May the bells keep echoing through these halls,” he toasts and then he’s traipsing back the way he came.
Valarr lingers for a moment, “Cousin Daeron has already had a bit to drink this afternoon, do not mind his words. He means no harm, truly, so you may relax yourself Ser Duncan. Though you should make sure Cousin Aerion does not miss supper tonight, or that you do not either if you are playing as prince for a day,” he adds with a nod of his head as he takes his leave too.
Left alone once more, Dunk sinks back into the pillows, eyes staring up at the canopy spanning the prince’s bed. The day is barely even over and already there had been so much navigating to be done. Perhaps, being a knight is much better for it would seem that his princely acts might have gotten him in a bit of trouble though he hopes that Aerion will not think so.
He does enjoy serving as Aerion’s knight. But maybe, every once in awhile they can play like this, with Dunk as the master and Aerion as his boy.
Once a month seemed like a good enough balance. Dunk thinks as he feels his eyelids getting heavier. He’ll be sure to pitch the idea to his prince later before supper.
‘Right…supper…we’ll just have a bit of a nap and then, supper.’