You and I, We're the Same

Chapter Three

My night with Ser Criston had been filled with hesitance, an uncertainty and shyness that had hindered our movements together. His kisses had felt half-hearted at times, his touch unsure. The entire encounter had lacked a passion that I desperately craved in my bones. A passion that Daemon now effortlessly breathes into every look and touch, the fire within him stoking mine.

You and I, we're the same. I think of his words from earlier as he threads his fingers through my unbraided hair, pulling roughly on the strands, his mouth warm and wonderful against my neck. I close my eyes as he finds a particularly sensitive spot below my ear, his hands now running up the sides of my body. His thumbs brush the outside of my breasts and when I gasp, he takes it as an invitation to do it again. He lifts me up onto the sitting room table, my knees on either side of him. I reach to undo his belt and he grabs my wrist, stopping me. I groan in frustration and he chuckles.

"Not yet, Princess," he murmurs.

Taking him by surprise, I stand up and turn around, sweeping my hair forward over a shoulder. "At least help me with mine?" He reaches up and in one swift motion, tears the fabric apart. I laugh, "Not entirely what I had in mind but—" He interrupts me by reaching through the falling folds of cloth to my breasts, cupping me from behind, and I moan, leaning back as his mouth finds the crook of my neck.

Hastily, he pushes my dress the rest of the way down and spins me around, lifting me up and putting me back onto the table. His eyes dilate to large pools of desire at the sight of me bare before him, and I blush at the intensity of his gaze.

"Beautiful," he growls in Valyrian, running his hands up my arms to cradle my neck, his thumb tracing the outline of my mouth.

"My patience wears thin," I reply, pulling him down, the kiss turning forceful immediately, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. I cry out as he starts rubbing tantalizing circles between my thighs. He increases pressure and grunts, hungrily watching me writhe beneath him. Feeling my body start to build, I reach and grasp his wrist tightly to stop him, my breaths still uneven.

"Please, I need to see you," I plead, standing up as he finally moves to undress. I bite my lip when I see the firmness of his muscles, decorated with scars from battle. He sheds the rest of his clothes and pulls me against him, my body tightening as I feel how hard he is below. I reach down , wrapping my hand around his length, and he moans, resting his forehead against mine as I start to stroke him.

"Rhaenyra," he hisses, and my body thrums in response. I walk him backwards until he's sitting on the chaise, the fire from the hearth casting shadows across his face, deepening the want etched in his expression. Straddling him, I grin slyly as I anchor my feet to the floor, feeling him rub up against me. He groans at the sensation, and crashes his lips against mine.

I kiss him back aggressively, my fingers roughly pulling at his hair, his hands tight on my hips. I moan as his tongue flickers across my bottom lip, then gasp as he licks flames down my neck. I reflexively grind against him and something like "fuck" comes out of the mouth now making its way across my chest.

Gripping his hair, I pull his head up and look at him, our labored breaths mingling in the closeness. I reach down, angle him at my entrance, and slowly sink down onto him. We both moan loudly as I start to move on top of him, gentle at first and then faster, his fingers digging into my hips as he starts thrusting up to meet me. He reaches down between us, his thumb working to undo me completely. I cry out in response, leaning my forehead against his. His mouth finds mine and we kiss lazily and hungrily, moaning and breathing into one another.

"I've dreamt about this for so long," I pant against his lips as we move faster, his thumb still sending spirals of extra pleasure throughout my body. I start losing control as the sensation builds in my core.

"Daemon," I beg, throwing my head back as I come to the edge. His hand grips my hip more firmly as he keeps moving inside me. A primal sound escapes my throat as I come hard around him, shuddering, gasping for breath. I feel his body go taught against me, and he thrusts once, twice, then groans, crying out as his own release courses through him.

Still breathing hard, I move to stand up and he growls in disappointment, grabbing my hand and pulling me back down onto the chaise next to him. He grins, his eyes mischievous in the firelight, the Valyrian rolling provocatively off his tongue.

"There is much work to be done yet, my Nyra."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later, we lay in serene silence, wrapped in furs in front of the fire. I rest my chin on his chest, running a finger across a scar on his stomach.

"And this one?" I ask.

He opens his eyes and glances down. "Another arrow in the Stepstones," he replies, smiling as I move to kiss it. We had been playing this game for some time, the marks on his skin representing a side of Daemon I never really knew. Battle marks, jousting roughness, training mistakes—there was even a small red circle on his shoulder from a wooden sword jab from my father when they were younger. His body was a book and I was determined to read every page.

"And this?" I ask, running my fingers over the burn scar on his neck.

He hums with contentment at my touch. "Stepstones again. Flaming arrow. I was on the back of Caraxes at the time."

I look up at him with concern. "My father said he was going to send aid—"

"Viserys wrote to me, advising the same. I chose to end matters before his forces arrived." He closes his eyes again, his hand languidly playing with my hair.

I grin at the arrogance in his voice. Of course you would.

"Was it always like this? Between you and him," I ask, laying my head back down on his chest. He's silent for a few moments, considering the question.

"Yes. And no. There was a time when he trusted me, but the throne and those who surround him have made my brother weak. I do believe our relationship is almost irreparable because of Otto Hightower's influence. Terrible shame he's gone," he smirks.

I think about the conversation I had with my father the day he decided to relieve Otto of his duties. And what will you do about the vulture who perches upon your throne? "It was because of me," I say quietly with pride.

"What?" he asks curiously, sitting up, his short hair in disarray, the flickering flames in front of us making the strands glimmer like silver. I bite my lip, grinning as I begin to explain.

"After the brothel incident," I pause to glare at him in jest and he looks back at me sheepishly. "He told me I was to wed Laenor Velaryon. I agreed, but I also informed him he needed to do his duty as King, and that Otto's motivations had been compromised long ago." Daemon looks at me in astonishment, his expression turning from pride to hunger, and I feel heat blossom in my stomach at his gaze.

"My future queen is a true dragon," he growls, pulling me down on top of him as we return to the furs once more.