Chapter Text
There's nothing malicious about Daeron's intentions at first, but he wouldn't have quantified what he did later to be that either, even if he earned judgement and disappointment for what his actions had contributed there was no returning to change what was done, nor would he have been inclined to. He might have done this all over again if Aerion had been the same, but he wondered if he would have corrupted his brother if he had been sweet and naive instead with a purer heart of gold, but he shakes his head of that notion, because he would not have been intrigued by Aerion if he hadn't been cruel.
Aerion's not any gentler now, but he regards his possessions in high esteem because they are a reflection of him, so he obsessively tends to his pup, almost lovingly but Maegor is his most cherished item, and naming Maegor after the Cruel Tyrant was the only harsh thing he's done to his son, cursing him with a legacy of such a person for everyone to look at him and see Maegor the Cruel when he is just an innocent boy. Daeron's is his too so he had taken him with him to Lys and together they live in a house away from Summerhall or King's Landing, and he'd wondered if his brother was happy, if he was truly ever capable of it even with his smiles and laughs, because his eyes are too cold at times.
He must hate Daeron yet he can't be without him.
For Maegor needed his muña. And Aerion cared for his son, and wanted him nurtured properly.
And Daeron's not talented here either with his otherwise impressive source of knowledge for Aerion by granting him prophecies, he's not sure how to make Maegor a contented child, but he attends his son while Aerion explores the inner city and fucks around in brothels, and Daeron pretends it doesn't bother him, even when he feels sick from the lavender and spices and other omega pheromones polluting his den, no their house whenever Aerion returns. They're not mated. They're just family and Maegor is the only reason why they're bonding over anything.
But the one time he tried to persuade Aerion into staying for a change so he may go out and settle his own needs, his brother had made his opinion known by releasing lethal pheromones, not a word need be said when his expression said it all. The murderous rage fiercely contorted his beautiful face into something truly terrifying, resembling a demonic version of their father, and the heat of his eyes were incendiary.
So, Daeron never brings that up again.
Mayhaps this was his penance, to live a sexless life when he had enjoyed it in his youth recklessly, when he had gone to his brother's bed with a sly motive. Aerion's loyal to himself first, but he hates that Daeron made him care for more than he ever wanted to.
Maegor was so beloved and spoiled, so he needed his muña and Aerion had been forced to protect Daeron even if he wanted to be the first one in line to end him.
*
Daeron never had a passing thought about fucking his own brother, but then he'd craved something no one else could grant him.
Annihilation.
He wanted his mind quiet, he wanted the pain to anchor him, and he wanted most of all a familiar face, not necessarily trust but for his instincts to slightly settle afterwards instead of sensing danger. But Aerion is dangerous and the last person Daeron would sleep with his eyes shut around. Aerion wouldn't want to kill him, he knew for certain but he might have other matters of distressing Daeron if he so wanted to, yet Daeron seeks him out first, seeks him with an excuse of night terrors and needing to share a bed.
"I'm too grown to go to Father," he says with tears dampening his cheeks.
"You're too grown to ask your little brother for comfort, too," Aerion sneers, unsympathetic to his plight and grouchy to have been woken in the middle of the night. He had lunged for his dagger when he heard the creak of the door, pointing it at Daeron as he walked to the edge of his bed. He still hasn't lowered the weapon.
Daeron slides into his bed anyway with his own pillow tucked under his arm and curls up on the very edge just in case his brother's instincts reacted and he ended up stabbing Daeron, mayhaps Aerion wouldn't need a reason to do so but would pretend to have panicked. He gives Aerion a look from under his eyelashes, "One night Aerion, you can hold this over my head forever but let me sleep here."
"I don't want you here," Aerion snaps. "Your pheromones are disturbing."
"Scent me," Daeron says coyly. "We used to when we were children."
"Children," Aerion grits out. "Which we are not anymore."
Daeron traces his fingers over the duvet, head slightly titled and eyes lowered demurely. "I know you're not a child, Aerion, that's why I came to you for protection. You will ward off any wrong doer from me." His gaze flickers upwards, and he catches his brother frowning, suspicious and bewildered but that incessant pride of his wins out and he's smug, but he's not gentle either as he lays back down, dagger resting beside his pillow and his hand comes down over Daeron's neck, squeezing, just enough for him to struggle evenly breathing.
Regardless, Daeron rolls closer, magnetized by his brother's treatment, neck arched as his body curls into his brother. Their faces are so near Daeron can see his own reflection even in the dark, and his breath comes out mingling with Aerion's.
"Valonqar," Daeron whispers. Aerion quickly releases him and turns over to face the other way, back stiff but Daeron decreases the space and follows him, so he's wrapped around his back, arm thrown over his waist and face resting in his nape. His brother's tense, but he's not trying to stab him so it's a success in Daeron's books as he gradually lowers his brother's guard.
Then the one night becomes more nights, a common occurrence, and Aerion complains the same, but then his hands start to wander by accident in places they shouldn't be.
First he causally brushes his hand over Daeron's chest but his fingers trail over a nipple then his hands slip up the skirts of Daeron's night gown to grope over his thigh then over his ass, while his knee is bent up between Daeron's legs to feel his bare cunt, once Aerion realizes the lack of small clothes he pauses then replaces his knee with a finger that prods at Daeron's fold and he's sliding his finger in his slit, before quickly retracting it as if Daeron would wake up from his pretend sleep. His breath is hot and heavy and Daeron's waiting in anticipation for his brother to cross another line, to go further.
But Aerion seems to have gained a conscience since he doesn't, hands over Daeron's night gown instead to touch, rubbing at his hips and caressing his ass, however it's not enough for Daeron so he starts to wrap his limbs over Aerion, a leg over his and his cunt rubbing over his abdomen as he rocks into him. Aerion might know he's awake too but he doesn't try to accuse Daeron, instead he's meeting him half-way, fingers pinching his nipples and pulling harshly, and hand squeezing a globe of his ass with his fingertips meeting the crack and part his cheeks for his hole to explore.
They play these games at night with Daeron sleeping, but eventually the facade breaks because Aerion's hands wander when they're in broad daylight with other people around.
Daeron can be looking for a wooden weapon to use at the training yard when his brother walks past and his hand had brushed over the curve of his ass, or in the great hall his hand will rest upon his thigh and squeeze with his fingertips too close to his cunt and causing him to dampen his small clothes from arousal.
Whenever they spar, his brother's pinning him down flat too, in an act of domination from an alpha's that's chased their prey and intended to claim their prize in front of others and Daeron's pheromones spike with his cunt throbbing and soaked. But no one seems to notice even as Aerion's face flickers with lust.
That very night when Daeron enters Aerion's bedchambers he pounces on his brother instead of going through their routinely farce, and kisses him on the mouth hungrily as he straddles his hips. Aerion's slow to react to Daeron taking charge but he can't push Daeron off when he's sitting upon his cock to have it flushed in between his folds.
Then Aerion has no care for Daeron's comfort or for what is proper because they have bypassed all social expectations and bucks his hips up forcefully hands on Daeron's hips to bring him downwards to set right above his cock then he drops Daeron over it, so his cock breaches him. Daeron whimpers at the piercing ache but Aerion seems surprised.
"I thought you and that insipid boy--" he grits out. That boy he'd seen Daeron fooling around with, that boy who's hands have been burnt by the hot pans from the kitchen, the boy who no longer showed his face in front of Daeron again.
Daeron moans, thighs shaking as his cunt aches. "Never my maidenhood," he says. Aerion growls, and flips them around to fuck harder with a more satisfying angle as he takes control, and Daeron succumbs to it, blissfully destroyed.
It changes after that between them, heavy tension lingering in every interaction or proximity, and knowing glances, and Daeron's dreams, shifting with this profound trajectory because of their affair.
Daeron's realization comes to him with a frenzy of obtaining the outcome.
*
Aerion bites.
Daeron's inner thighs bleed, and he shudders when his brother's tongue flicks over the broken skin, the blood swelling out of his teeth prints.
He holds his breath as he stares down, wondering if Aerion will put his teeth away once he's close to his cunt, because he doesn't want to bleed outside of the necessary. His maidenhead had been broken from riding a horse, he'd told his father years ago as an off-handed remark when he mentioned marriage but it had been Daeron's own desire that led him to bleeding, he'd gone to his brother a virgin, even though he'd known how to kiss and sick and use his hands. He had practiced with stableboys, wandering knights that they hosted and sometimes married lords who didn't mind their wives. All older and talented and the praises they doled on him made him eager.
But no one is ever so rough, because he was a prince at the end of the day, and he was to be respected even in the lovemaking though no one's cock has ever entered his cunt, only his ass. Aerion's the one that broke him in, and made him bleed, and then he'd gotten to his knees to slurp up the leftover blood and had Daeron suck it off his cock. The taste was metallic, and musk, with his own slick, a combination of them and their sin, and it was the most addicting flavor of all.
Daeron's hands lower to grab his brother's hair and Aerion doesn't particularly like being touched unless it was to worship him, but Daeron holds him firmly so he can direct him away from where he's sucking on his thigh to his cunt, making sure his brother knows where he wants his attention. His hips roll upwards with need, demanding and he feels the puff of Aerion's hit breath over his nub before he wraps his lips around it as if it were a cock, the way Daeron had done to his tip, nursing on it with no true purpose than to have his mouth full and his brother's seed lapped up. His brother had learned from him, in theory he knew what to do and Daeron's whining out a moan when Aerion harshly scrapes his teeth over his throbbing nub, sly tongue flicking underneath, and his hips hump into his alpha's face, slick gushing out of his hole.
Aerion hums, vibrations causing Daeron to shudder and lock an ankle over the small of Aerion's back to urge him while he spreads out his other leg to look, wanting to see his brother serving him, even if Aerion denies it. Pretends that this is all according to his own ministrations. Daeron panting, shuddering and moaning was to show how helpless he is by Aerion's mere tongue but to Daeron his prideful brother is debasing himself by pleasuring him at all with anything other than his cock, because his face is drenched to show how messy he is for Daeron, and his cheeks red from not breathing long when he's keeping his face smushed in Daeron's cunt, he might not have minded Daeron actually sitting upon him with how depraved he seems for it.
"Valonqar," Daeron babbles, heart in his throat and the taste of musk is heavy on his tongue, "good, so good for me, put your fingers in, fuck me with them, too, be rough."
Aerion pulls back for a brief moment, glancing up at him, adopting an irritatibe expression, but his cheeks are glistening with Daeron's arousal, and his lips are wet, so he can't be mad that Daeron wants more. He's worked him this far to catch his release.
"Fingers," he demands, not quitting, because Aerion doesn't intimidate him when he appears wrecked, hair all trussed up by Daeron's hands and face showing how he'd served him well.
Aerion rolls his eyes but half-heartedly before he jabs his fingers inside with no warning, prying him open punishingly, and Daeron winces but his legs spread even wider as he bucks his hips upwards to swallow those fingers deeper so they can hit that spot that sends his nerves on fire and makes his gut tighten with heat.
Toes curling he's moaning without restraint, unabashedly, entire body flushed as his brother's fingers spread him out, loosening him up aggressively. Nails digging against his inner walls and knuckles brushing harshly agaisnt them. Daeron tenses when sweat breaks out over his forehead, and his chest seizes his breath, then his eyes roll back as a guttural sound rips from him throat, the intensity of his orgasm always world shattering because they're rare.
No one's done this, not even married men. They don't bring him to completion, but Aerion does because he doesn't hold back, and wouldn't mind hurting Daeron. He doesn't let Daeron settle in the haze afterwards since his cockhead is pushing into his clenching hole, he whimpers as Aerion thrusts in, because he's so sensitive. But his brother takes now, hips forcefully snapping forward to rock the bed and cauee Daeron's body to slide down his stack of pillows. His grip on Daeron's wrist so tight it's going to leave scratch marks, but he doesn't care, elated that his brother's losing control.
"You're so hideous," Aerion says spitefully, a whole lie that never strikes true enough to hurt Daeron. "Stupid dull eyes so huge all the time like you're a newborn seeing the world for the first time and your stupid tongue wagging so much whenever you're talking-- like a panting dog."
"I'm not," Daeron says, breath hitching as his brother's cock hits his cervix painfully. "I'm not hideous, you know I'm not."
"You are, didn't you just hear me," Aerion hisses, and his thrusts become erratic and painful, cock dragging out until the tip is out, teasing the opening of his hole then he breaches Daeron in one full thrust so deep their hips are flushed together.
"What about our baby?" Daeron asks on an airy moan, and Aerion's movements stutter, his eyes growing a little wide while Daeron tosses his head to the side to stare up at his brother. "Half of me, and half of you, so they're not ugly but a majestic dragon, with glittering scales, brother."
"Shut up," Aerion says, but he's breathless, and his eyes are blown out and darker than before, almost pitched back. "Shut up, we don't have a baby."
"You're right," Daeron says with a knowing smile. "I misspoke, i should have said hatchling."
Aerion's breathing becomes heavier, a flush working over his pale face then he's instantaneously turning Daeron onto his stomach, and fucking him from behind vigorously. Daeron's chest rubs against the sheets and his cunt is dripping of his own wetness then he's flooded by his brother's seed, but he's plugging him by keeping his cock inside. Daeron smiles into the pillowcase, this time it'll catch, and he'll have a surprise for his brother the next time they see each other.