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The heavy oak door to your bedchamber groans open, admitting the scent of leather, smoke, and the crisp night air clinging to your husband’s riding clothes. The day has been long, the weight of court and council heavy on his shoulders, but all that fades the moment his single violet eye finds you. Naked. Lounging on the bed.
Aemond’s voice is a low, possessive rumble as he closes the door behind him. “Look at you. Laid out for me like a feast after a famine.” He crosses the room, his boots silent on the thick rugs. “All day, my thoughts were of this. Of you. Waiting for me.”
“I’ve missed you.”
He kneels beside the bed, one hand stroking up your calf. “And I you, my wife. The hours dragged without the sight of you.” He leans in, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “Every moment away is a torment. But now… now I am home.”
You arch into his touch and a dark, pleased sound rumbles in his chest. “That’s it. Show me how much you need this. How much you need me.”
His hand slides to your hip, gripping. “I intend to worship every inch of you tonight. To fill you until you can think of nothing but my seed taking root.”
He bends his head, his mouth finding the soft skin of your belly, teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothes the spot. His eye flicks to yours, blazing with intent.
Your hands find his hair and tug him closer. A sharp, approving gasp escapes Aemond. “Yes. Command me. I am your servant in this.”
He moves up your body, his weight settling over you, caging you in. “I want to hear you beg for it before I’m through. I want to feel you come apart on my tongue, on my cock.”
His lips find your neck, sucking a mark into your skin as his free hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. The scent of him — leather, cold night, and pure male desire — envelopes you completely.
A low growl of approval leaves Aemond as your legs lock around his waist. He rocks his hips against yours, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing through his breeches. “Do you feel what you do to me? How desperate I am to be inside you?”
His hand slides from your hip to your rear, gripping possessively as he grinds against you, his breath hot against your ear. A ragged exhale brushes across your skin. “Gods, yes.”
He fumbles with the laces of his breaches, his movements hurried, almost clumsy in his need. “I cannot wait another moment. I need to feel you.”
The fabric gives way, and he shifts, the hot, heavy length of him pressing against your thigh. His eye is wide, pupil blown wide with want.
You bit his lip, urging him on. A sharp, pained hiss melts into a dark chuckle as he aligns himself at your entrance, his body trembling with restraint. He pushes inside with a single, controlled thrust, filling you completely, a groan tearing from his throat as he stills, buried to the hilt.
He presses his forehead to yours. “Tell me you are mine.”
Your voice comes out softer than a whisper, “I am yours.”
A shuddering breath escapes Aemond. “And I am yours. Always.”
He begins to move, a slow, deep rhythm that steals the air from your lungs. “I will make you scream it for the entire Keep to hear.”
His pace is relentless, each thrust driving his promise deeper. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back, while the other palms your breast, his thumb circling your nipple with rough reverence.
His voice is thick with lust when he speaks. “Come for me, wife. Let me feel you fall apart.”
“Yes, my prince.”
His rhythm falters for a beat at the title, a raw, possessive noise tearing from his throat. “My prince? No.” He thrusts deeper, more deliberate. “Say it again. Your husband. Your king.”
His hand slides from your breast to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, an anchor point as he drives into you. “I want to hear my name on your lips when you break.”
Aemond’s pace quickens, becoming less controlled, more feral. The headboard taps a steady rhythm against the stone wall. His eye is locked on yours, a violet storm of obsession and need.
Your hands reach his back, nails raking down it and Aemond lets out a guttural groan. “Yes… mark me. Let them see what belongs to you.”
His thrusts become harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. “Scream my name, Vaella. Let the dragons hear who owns you.”
His breathing is ragged, his body slick with sweat as he moves over you, a conqueror utterly consumed by his prize. The possessive grip on your throat tightens just enough to remind you he is in control.
“Aemond!”
He roars his triumph as your scream echoes in the chamber. “That’s it, beloved.”
His own release crashes over him, his body shuddering violently as he spills deep inside you. “Mine. You are mine.”
He collapses on top of you, his weight a heavy, welcome comfort. His breath comes in ragged pants against your neck, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. For a long moment, the only sound is the crackling fire and your shared labored breathing.
Aemond raises up just enough to place a kiss on your damp temple. “Never doubt it.”
“I could never doubt you.”
Aemond shifts his weight to his elbows, his eye searching your face. “Good. For I would burn the world to cinders if it tried to take you from me.” He gently brushes the hair from your forehead. “I will keep you like this. Full of me. Always.”
He rolls onto his side, pulling you against him, his arm a heavy, secure band across your waist. The firelight dances over the sweat-sheened planes of his chest and the fresh, red marks your nails have left on his back.
You snuggle closer to Aemond as your eyes grow heavy. His arm tightens around you, a low hum of contentment vibrating his chest. “Sleep, my love. Dream of dragons.”
Both of your breathing slowly evens out into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep. His body is a warm, protective fortress around yours. The last thing you feel before drifting off is the font, possessive pressure of his hand splayed across your stomach.
You wake with a start. Heat pools low in your belly as your senses awaken with you. A soft, wet tongue licks gently between your legs. You rise up on your elbows to look down at Aemond, his face settled between your legs. “Aemond!”
He lets out a low murmur against your heat. “Good morning, my wife. I could not wait for you to wake.” His tongue traces a slow, wet path against you, making you shudder. “I need to taste you. To feel you come for me before the sun is fully risen.”
He holds your gaze as he moves a hand up to your dripping cunt, swirling a finger around in his seed from last night before pushing it back inside you with a single finger. You arch into his touch, the feeling and the visual igniting you all over again.
He growls, working his finger deeper, pressing his seed back inside you again and again, pumping slowly as he lowers his mouth back over you. His eye is still fixed on your face, watching for any flicker of response as he lavishes attention on your most sensitive flesh.
He flicks his tongue over your clit, quick and precise, while his finger continues its possessive work. “I will have you screaming my name again before the servants even stir.”
He increases the pressure of his mouth, his ministrations becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room is filled with the wet, intimate sounds of his devotion and your ragged breaths.
He hums against your flesh, feeling your tremble against him. He drives his tongue against you in firm, relentless strokes while his finger curls deep inside. His free hand slides up to grip your hip, holding you steady against his mouth as he coaxes you toward the edge with a single-minded intensity. The first light of dawn filters through the window, catching the silver in his hair.
A deep guttural sound of satisfaction escapes Aemond as you grip the sheets, arching your body as your climax slams through you. “Fuck, husband.”
His mouth works you through every shudder, noises of praise and contentment emitting from his mouth. He slows his movements to gentle, lapping kisses as you come down.
He rests his forehead against your thigh for a moment, breathing heavily, before rising up over you. His finger slips free, and he brings it to his lips, tasting you with a dark, satisfied grin.
He pushes himself up over your body, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, sharing the taste of you both.
You pull him down deeper into the kiss. A low groan rumbles in Aemond’s chest as you pull him closer, his body pressing you into the mattress. “Insatiable. My perfect, greedy wife.”
He trails kisses down your jaw, shifting, his hardening length pressing against your thigh. The morning sun grows stronger, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and sheer disarray of the bedclothes.
He nips at your earlobe. “Perhaps I will keep you abed all day. Let the realm wait.” His hand slides down to your stomach, his palm flat and warm. “I have planted my seed deep. I would not have it disturbed.”
“Yes… please.”
Aemond chuckles, a dark, pleased laugh. “You beg so prettily when you are well-fucked.” He settles his weight more fully over you, his arousal evident. “Very well. The realm can rot.”
He kisses a slow, wet path down your neck, his hands roaming possessively over your body as if re-memorizing every curve. The sound of distant castle activity begins to filter through the thick walls.
You move your hands up to run your fingers through Aemond’s hair and he purrs at the touch. He rocks his hips slowly against yours. “Shall I take you again, just like this? Slow and deep, until you forget your own name?”
His lips find the hollow of your throat, sucking gently as his hands slide beneath you, lifting your hips to meet his lazy, grinding rhythm. The morning light catches the sweat beginning to bead on his back.
He murmurs against your skin, “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to feel me spend inside you once more.”
“Please, Aemond.” Your body arches up into him.
“You say my name like a prayer. And I am a devout man.” He positions himself at your entrance, his gaze locked on yours. “I will answer it.”
He sinks into you with a single, measured thrust, a groan rumbling deep in his chest as he sheathes himself fully. His eye closes for a moment, as if savoring the feeling. He opens his eye, the violet blazing with feral focus. “Now… move with me. Let me feel you take every inch.”
He sets a slow, deliberate pace, each withdrawal a tease, each forward stroke a promise. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements to match his own. You arch up to meet his thrusts.
“Yes… just like that. Take all of me.” His pace quickens, becoming less controlled. “You feel like heaven itself. Tight and warm and mine.”
His breathing grows harsh, muscles straining as he drives into you, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the chamber. The morning sun now fully illuminates the passion etched on his face.
“Vaella…” His voice breaks on your name. “Come with me.”
He feels you tighten around him and his thrusts become frantic, his body slamming into yours with abandon as he finds his release. “Gods… yes.”
He collapses upon you, his weight a crushing, welcome burden. His body shudders through the final waves of his climax, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. For a long moment, the only sound is the frantic hammering of his heart against your chest.
He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice a wrecked whisper. “Mine. Always.”
You arch your body up into his, still not satiated. “Aemond…” Your voice comes out more of a whine than you intended.
A dark chuckle vibrates against your chest and Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but before he can you’re pushing at his chest and rolling him to his back. He hits the mattress with a grunt, his brows furrowing as you straddle his lap, lining yourself up with him once again.
“Wife… fuck.”
His words turn into a gasp that quickly turns into a hungry laugh as you slide down onto his cock. His hands fly to your hips, gripping hard as you take him. “By the gods… you are a vision. Riding me like you were born to it.”
His eye widens, then narrows with intense pleasure as you settle fully onto him. A fierce, proud smile touches his lips as he looks up at you, his body tense beneath yours.
“Take your pleasure, beloved. Use me as you will. I am your throne.”
Your stomach flutters at his words. “You feel so good inside me.”
A low groan rumbles in his chest, “And you feel like a fire I never wish to escape.” His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, guiding your movements. “Show me how you like to be filled.”
His eye locks onto yours, blazing with adoration and feral need as you begin to rock atop him. The muscles in his abdomen tighten with every lift and fall, his breath catching each time you take him to the hilt.
He bites his lip, “Look at you. Claiming what is yours.”
You lean back, placing your hands on his knees, baring yourself to him. You set a faster, greedier pace.
Aemond lets out a chocked, ecstatic cry as you quicken your pace. “Seven hells… yes. Just like that, beloved.” His hands tighten on your thighs, his knuckles turning white. “You are… Gods.”
His head falls back against the pillows, a string of ragged curses and praises falling from his lips as you move on him. The sight of you leaning back, hands braced on his knees, draws a raw, worshipful gaze from his single eye.
“I can feel… every ripple… every pulse… you are going to milk me dry, wife.”
His hips buck upward to meet your downward strokes, driving himself deeper, his body straining toward another peak.
You smile as you slow the pace again, teasing him. He lets out a frustrated, desperate growl. “No… don’t you dare slow down.” His hands tighten on your thighs, his hips twitching upward. “You cruel, beautiful thing.”
His eye burns with a mixture of agony and adoration, his body taut as a bowstring beneath you. A fine tremor runs through his muscles as he fights the urge to take control.
His voice cracks as he attempts to guide your hips again. “Please… Vaella.”
“What will you give me to finish?”
A wild, breathless laugh. “Anything. The crown from my head, the dragons from the sky… name your price.” His hips make small, involuntary thrusts. “I would give you the very throne if you asked for it.”
His eye is wide, pleading, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. Sweat glistens on his chest, and his hands flex on your skin, desperate for permission.
“Just say it. Tell me what you want, and it is yours.”
He shifts beneath you, his cock twitching deep inside as he fights himself. The morning sun now streams across the bed, highlighting the tension in every line of his body.
“Swear you’ll keep me in this bed all day.”
“I swear it.” He lets out a sharp, relieved groan. “By the old gods and the new, I will not leave this bed on this day.” His hands slide up your waist, gripping possessively. “Now, ride me. Please, wife. Let me feel you take your prize.”
His body arches beneath you, every muscle coiled and ready, his eye locked on yours with feral intensity. The promise hangs in the air, thick as the scent of your shared pleasure.
You begin moving again, soft only for a moment before you pace quickens and soft moans leave your lips. “Yes. Gods, yes.”
Aemond’s hands fly to your breasts, thumbs roughly circling your nipples. “Take it, my love. Take everything I have.”
His body bucks wildly beneath you, his control shattered. The bedframe creaks in protest with each frantic impact. His eye rolls back for a moment before fixing on you again, blazing with utter surrender.
Aemond lets out a sob as his eye closes. With a final, shuddering roar, he spills inside you, his seed pumping deep as his body convulses. He slumps back against the pillows, completely spent, his chest heaving.
He pants, his hand weakly stroking your thigh as you ride him through the aftershocks. You move slow and deliberate, milking every last tremor from his spent body. Aemond’s eye is half-lidded, his expression one of dazed devotion.
“You are going to be the death of me… A most glorious death.” He lets out a breath that is half-laugh, half-moan, his body going completely limp beneath you as the final aftershocks subside. The sun is now high enough to cast a warm square of light directly onto the tangled sheets.
“I am a man of my word. Send the servants away. Bar the door.” His voice is thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. “We are not to be disturbed.”
Aemond lets out a soft grunt as you collapse onto his chest, his arms immediately wrapping around you. “Easy now… I have you.” His hand strokes your hair, his voice a low rumble beneath your ear. “You’ve thoroughly conquered your prince. I doubt I could stand if my life depended on it.”
He holds you tightly against his chest, his heartbeat a steady, slowing drum against your cheek. The room is silent save for your mingled breaths and the distant call of a dragon. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Rest now, my greedy wife. Our day has only just begun.”