Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Possession

It was hard for Jeyne to stop seeing the Faith in every aspect of her life. She had to stop seeing the Maiden in the moon, the Father in the brightness of the sun. She had to stop seeing the Warrior in every knight or the Maiden in every small girl that passed her.

It was almost torturous for her to remind herself daily that the Seven did not exist. That the gods she and her family—her ancestors for centuries—had prayed to for health and guidance were mere figureheads of a corrupt religion hungry for power.

She had to physically stop herself from calling out to her goddess at night, to ask for guidance from an empty shell of a being that couldn't possibly answer her. It was so hard for her to forget—to forsake.

And yet... when she looked above her through dark lashes to see her lord husband an aching, mewling mess for her, Jeyne could easily forget about the Seven.

Jeyne Hightower knew no gods but those from House Targaryen, and Jeyne currently held the manhood of a god in her mouth—sucking and licking past thick curls and large, wrinkled balls that housed her future children to the salty tip that leaked from the pleasure.

The Seven viewed it as a sin—sodomy—yet Jeyne had spent her entire life fighting her natural urge to complete even the most basic of human instincts. She used to worship the false faith.

Now, she worshiped only Aemond's cock.

"Ffffffuck." Aemond hissed, hand flying to her hair. She felt him tug at the roots, could see his irises roll back into his head.

"Aemond—" She suctioned off the head, lips dripping with saliva. "You can't—"
He pulled her atop of him in one fell swoop, bringing her into a kiss as he thrust into her. Her insides curled pleasantly as his length filled her. He moaned pleasantly into her mouth, large hand falling to her backside where he gripped the meat, pulling her closer to him.

"You want my child..." Aemond pulled from her, staring up at her with his thin lips pulled into a smirk. "You want my seed to quicken in that belly of yours." He thrust upward, smacking the bundle of nerves inside of her that made her brain fill with sand. She could only nod as Aemond grinned again. "Not Aegon's."

Jeyne froze, her eyes snapping open. "Why would you—"

Her lord husband faltered in his movements, eyes dark. "My child. Not Aegon's."

"Why would it be with Aegon?"

Aemond's strong arm came over her, flipping her onto her back until he towered over her, silver hair shielding them from the shadows of his men that danced beyond the fabric of the tent. He spoke low, soft in a tone he reserved only for her. "He wants you."

"I—" Aemond thrust into her gain, breaking her words. "I was not aware..."

"You didn't feel his cock against your backside?" Aemond purred, feigning concern as he withdrew until he almost fell from her. "When you rode that tiny, gaudy dragon of his?"

Jeyne paused. He liked belittling his brother. There was a glint in his eye Jeyne had only ever seen during his combat. When he wanted to win something.

Her belly burned from his gaze.

"I barely felt a thing—" Jeyne lifted her hips to roll against him, hissing as he slid back into her. Aemond's eyes rolled back into his head again, a small moan escaping his lips. "I want only you. Your son."

"Aegon can have that glory." Aemond smelled like sweat and fire, veins bulged from his forehead as he held himself together. "But you are mine."