Salvation - Aemond Targaryen / Aegon Targaryen

Vexatious Volitants

Aemond could tell his sweet wife, his little pet, was overwhelmed.

Riding a beast such as Vhagar was far more intoxicating than a puny, gaudy rat like Sunfyre. He knew the power was getting to Jeyne.

He could tell by how she shook in his arms, how her sweet breaths grew needy and desperate as they broke the surface of the clouds and came into view of his bastard of a brother. He watched her face morph into one consumed by the pleasure that came from him moving her hips.

He was not inside of her, but by the old gods and the new he wanted to be. But this was for show. This was not for him—this was for Aegon.

The weaselly little shit needed to know that Jeyne was his—that no amount of faux sobriety or forced kindness could take her from him. He knew that Aegon was watching. It was impossible for a man not to. Jeyne was the prettiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Two hundred men had vied for her hand and she was his.

Jeyne whimpered against him. "My prince—"

"Do you see how he looks at you?" Aemond licked at the skin of her neck, cold air from their speed brushing the wetness and making gooseflesh rise on her skin. Jeyne mewled in front of him. Aegon's eyes went from Aemond to Jeyne.

"I do." Jeyne gasped as his hands pushed her forward rhythmically, rubbing her sweet cunt against the rough leather. She shuddered.

"He wants you." Aemond spoke softly.

She released another shudder, hands gripping weakly at the horn that rose from the curved saddle. She nodded her head subtly, red-brown curls flying into his face with the wind. The scent of her sex was intoxicating, his eye was dark with need.

"He can't have me..." Jeyne whispered, pushing back into his cock.

He hissed as Jeyne pushed back harder, before releasing the pressure and pushing forward again. Aemond's mind hummed. "I want you to look at him." He commanded, placing small kisses against the lace of her throat and back—the places where hours before he had bitten and suckled until they were an angry shade of blue-red. His lovely wife bit her bruised lip, whimpering and nodding in compliance. "Open those pretty eyes, pet." He whispered into her ear.

As he thought, Aegon did not fly away. The elder prince rode beside them on Vhagar's left, hovering just above her wing with his eyes locked on Jeyne. Aemond could not place the look on his face, whether it was desire, jealousy or something else.

He strained to see Jeyne's face. Her pretty eyes could hardly stay open, staring across the way through hooded eyes heavy with desire. Aemond pushed her forward, faster and smoother until she was practically sliding through her own slick. Her knuckles wer white, pretty lips open as pleasured moans escaped her, flying through the air and surely hitting his brother's ear.

Aegon could never make her feel this way, he thought. He would be too consumed with taking, he could never understand the joy of giving.

Jeyne whimpered again, her breath catching in her throat. Her hips stuttered, and Aemond knew it was coming. "Just a little more, pet." He praised her, brushing her hair from her face as Vhagar grunted beneath them. "Do you want to say it, my love?"

"Say..." Jeyne did not break eye contact with Aegon, though her lips curled upward in a smile. "Will it work?"

He shrugged. Jeyne's cheeks were tinged red. She blinked only briefly as Aemond rolled her hips. He watched as her shoulders tensed, her toes in her boots curled. Her knuckles threatened to break through her skin as the her nails dug into the leather. "Good girl, pet..." He crooned.