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The fire in the hearth burned low, its glow painting their faces in amber and gold. Daenerys stood before Aeron, her breath shallow, her violet gaze never leaving his. The storm of the feast below was long behind them.. here, there was only silence, broken by the faint crackle of flame and the rhythm of their hearts.
Aeron's voice came low, calm. "I understand what you are asking of me."
Daenerys said nothing. Her lips parted just enough for a breath to escape, soft and trembling. She stepped closer, her hand rising to trace the edge of his jaw. "I've wanted this… for longer than I can remember," she whispered. "The last time you went into battle, I thought you might not return…" Her voice faltered, trembling with restraint. "I wanted to tell you what you mean to me."
Aeron caught her wrist gently, his touch steady but reverent. "You don't have to," he said quietly. "I already know."
But she silenced him with a kiss. It was desperate at first the kind that spoke of a time spent apart, of worry, and the ache of longing that had finally found its end. The kiss deepened; it became slower, heavier, full of heat.
Aeron's hands rose to her shoulders, brushing the silver strands of her hair aside. She moved against him, guiding his hands down, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "No crowns, no thrones, no wars… not tonight."
He smiled faintly at that, every worry slipping away. "A rare command I'll gladly obey, my queen."
Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his clothes, pulling him closer until their foreheads met. There was no sound but the slow burn of firelight, and the soft hitch of breath. Aeron lifted her with ease, and she met him with a fierce kind of tenderness, the strength of a woman who had endured too much and refused to be broken.
When he lowered her next to the bed, it wasn't with force, two souls that had survived fire, shadow, and death itself feeling each other again.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Daenerys reached up, her fingers tracing his cheek, his neck, his chest the heartbeat beneath her palm proof that he was real. "You feel a bit different," she murmured, almost in awe. "I can't quite tell."
Aeron leaned closer, his voice soft but edged with warmth. "I always feel different around you."
She smiled faintly, eyes glistening in the glow.
Aeron's hands began to move with a new purpose. His palms slid down the slopes of her arms, a slow, deliberate caress that made her shiver.
His fingers found the first clasp of her gown, nestled at the side of her ribcage. Daenerys held her breath, her violet eyes wide and fixed on his. The soft click of the metal opening was deafening in the quiet room. He worked with a surprising deftness, each clasp yielding to his touch, the fabric loosening its hold on her.
With the final clasp undone, the gown did not fall, but hung open. Aeron's hands slipped inside, his touch searing against the bare skin of her back. He splayed his fingers wide, pressing her closer, and she gasped into his mouth. He walked her backward, never breaking the kiss, until the backs of her knees met the edge of the bed.
Slowly, reverently, he pushed the gown from her shoulders. The silk whispered a protest, slithering down her body to pool in a silver puddle at her feet. She stood before him, bathed in the fire's amber light, clad only in a thin chemise. Her breath was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Aeron's gaze was a physical weight, tracing the lines of her body as if committing a sacred map to memory. He brought one hand to the slender strap of her chemise and brushed it aside, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her collarbone. The fabric, now unsupported, slid down her arm, revealing the soft curve of her breast.
He lowered his head, his lips finding the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. Daenerys cried out, a soft, broken sound, and her head fell back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her.
"Aeron," she breathed, saying his name like a prayer.
In response, his hands found her hips, his thumbs stroking the delicate bones. He kissed a burning trail down her chest, lower, until his lips brushed the top of the chemise still covering her. With a groan that was both a surrender and conquest, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the thin garment and drew it down, following its descent with his mouth until she stood completely bare before him, trembling in the firelight.
He looked up at her, his eyes violet with a storm of emotion awe, desire, a fierce, protective love. "Dany," he murmured, a name stripped of all politics, meaning only her.
Then he rose, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and laying her upon the furs of the bed. The world had narrowed to this room.
The heat of the furs beneath her was nothing compared to the fire in his gaze. As Aeron laid her down, he followed, his body a welcome weight settling over hers. The rough texture of his trousers was a stark contrast to her bare skin, a friction that made her arch against him
He supported himself on one elbow, his other hand beginning a slow, deliberate exploration. It started at her ankle, a firm grip. His palm slid up her calf, over the sensitive hollow of her knee, and along the trembling muscle of her inner thigh. Daenerys gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, every nerve ending alight. He was mapping her, learning the landscape of her as if she was another battle he is going to face.
"This is my first defeat." he said, his voice a low rasp.
Her eyes opened, hazy with need. He held her gaze as his fingers found the warm, slick heart of her. A sharp, broken cry escaped her lips as he touched her, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with a torturous, perfect rhythm. Her hips lifted from the furs, seeking more.
"Tell me Dany," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Should I stop?"
She could only shake her head, her words lost in a moan as a finger, then two, slid inside her. They were a slow, stretching fullness that made her clench around him. He moved his hand with a devastating expertise, his thumb never ceasing its lazy circles, building a coil of tension deep within her belly.
"Please, Aeron," she begged, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. "I need you, Now."
With a guttural sound of surrender, he withdrew his hand. Then he was already there pressing against her entrance.
He paused, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling. "Dany..." he breathed, a final anchor to their shared reality.
And then he entered her.
It was not a gentle joining, but a claiming one, one deep, sure thrust that filled her completely, stealing the air from her lungs. A cry was torn from her throat, part shock, part profound relief. For a moment, they were utterly still, fused together.
Then he began to move.
His pace was relentless for a good amount of time, a driving rhythm that spoke of pent-up longing and a fierce, possessive love. Daenerys met him thrust for thrust, her nails scoring his skin, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper, closer. The world dissolved into sensation the slap of skin, the creak of the bed, their ragged breaths harmonizing.
He shifted his angle, and she saw stars. A coil snapped, and her climax ripped through her with a force that blinded her with teary eyes. She screamed his name, her body convulsing around his, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure shattered her.
Feeling her climax, his own control broke. with a final, deep thrust, he finished inside her, her body shuddering with the force of his release.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the crackle of the fire. He rested beside her, gathering her into his arms, her back against his chest. His lips found the sweat-damp skin of her shoulder in a soft, lingering kiss.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
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