Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Coming Into Her Power

Jeyne felt an odd sense of power when Aemond returned to their chambers, coated in blood with his fingers dancing across his belt. The power was unlike any she had felt, stronger than the breeze in the Starry Sept when she prayed or the power that radiated from the dragons the Targaryens flaunted. It was something in her sex, something in the way she carried herself toward her lord husband.

It was the way she pressed him against the door, feeling the hardness of his length beneath his blood-soaked breeches.

Aemond Targaryen had given her everything the gods promised her—a refuge, a good husband with a good name and family, and his undying protection. He stood up to his mother, stood up to the king. He killed Jason Lannister for her, the guards all because they touched her.

"If you were to touch me," she asked, trailing her fingers along his arm. "Without permission. What would you do?"

"I always wait for permission," Aemond answered her, smirking as his singular eye followed her finger. "Do you give it?"

"No." She teased. His eye flashed with confusion and suddenly Jeyne felt simple. Her blush spread to her cheeks and throat. She had never before been so forward—she wasn't sure what to do now.

Aemond frowned. "What is it?"

"I do not know what I'm doing." She answered truthfully, feeling as if her dress should turn to a fool's motley. "I didn't think..."

Aemond's finger found her chin, raising her to look at him. He gave her a small smile. "No," he whispered, giving her a sweet kiss on her nose. "Keep going. Do you give permission?"

Her heart and sex fluttered with the touch. "No." She said again, sterner and braver. He took his hand back to his side, smiling. "No. To bed."

"Yes, my lady." Aemond grinned. She watched him saunter to the bed, hair trailing behind him matted from the blood. Her sex quivered. Aemond sat on the bed, hands waiting expectantly in his lap. "What now?"

"Sit," she commanded, trailing her fingers across the lengths of the tables and papers until she stood before him, her hand rested gently on his heart. She could feel it hammering beneath his skin, skipping when she rose her skirts.

"Hmm..." Aemond crooned, reaching his hand up to touch her thigh. Jeyne's hand smacked it away, batting at the delicate fingers. "This is my reward?" Aemond frowned playfully. "Abuse?"

"The crime for touching when it is not wanted..." Jeyne crooned, moving herself until her legs knelt on either side of his hips, her womanhood pressed against his breeches. "Is gelding. And I intend to put this to good use."

"Good," Aemond hissed when she pressed her weight down, singular eye rolled into the back of his head. "Use it how you will."

Jeyne grinded slowly on him, biting her lip to stop the moan that would escape her. She pressed forward, brushing their lips together. She could feel him smile. "I will."

She moaned again, eyes shutting. His blood-soaked hand crept upward until it gripped her back end, she didn't have the willpower to stop him. He squeezed the meat, forcing her mouth open. Aemond took the opportunity to kiss her, his tongue explored her mouth. It was the same tongue that had been inside her days ago—Jeyne shuddered at the thought.

His fingers wandered closer to the slick between her legs. "Fuck." He breathed. "You're soaked."

"My prince," She purred, breath hitching in her throat when his finger slid within her. She could hear him chuckle. "Aemond, that's not..."