Your eyes slowly close, but the smile doesn't leave your lips. The blanket envelops your bare skin, which is covered in a light sweat. Daemon's deep laugh echoes lightly through the room, a reaction to you calling him silly.
He presses his face gently into the crook of your neck, wrapping both arms around you from behind. He holds you so tightly that for a brief moment you fear you will never be able to move again. The warmth of your body flowing through Daemon's slowly makes him close his eyes too. His head is swimming, but he struggles to stay awake. It's just too good to be in your arms, he doesn't want to lose it.
"Don't fall asleep," he whispers suddenly, "I can't let you go yet.... Don't let you drift off to sleep yet"
You smile as his voice rings out, your eyes flutter open for a brief moment, but you lose the battle.
"Why...?" you finally whisper. Daemon gently brushes his nose along your neck, "Because I enjoy holding you like this.... I don't want to stop," he whispers softly.
But you only answer him with a sleepy moan.
"Please... just ten more minutes... Then I'll let you sleep," he whispers, even he knows how ridiculous this request is, but he can't help himself.
You laugh softly now, but you give in, "Okay... ten more minutes," you say softly and turn around in his arms, your purple Targaryen eyes meeting.
"But you'll be the one who's grumpy in the morning if you didn't get enough sleep," you say softly.
Daemon smiles gently, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You feel his chest rise and fall as his breathing slows and he just smiles at you. His fingers glide gently down your neck, leaving a tingling trail on your soft skin. His caresses continue on your shoulder as he begins to hum. Your smile widens as his deep voice rings out.
"A song of ice and fire..." he whispers. "And blood..."
He continues, looking deep into your eyes.
"I think my father made the right decision when he announced that I had to marry you," you whisper, biting your lip lightly.
"We're going to have a wonderful Targaryen family..." you whisper, running your hands over his firm chest – you feel the scars, achievements of dragon fire and battles.
Daemon leans forward, cupping your lips with his. His hands reach for your hips and he begins to caress your body. Almost gently, his fingers wander over your curves, gripping your soft flesh.
As Daemon processes your words, his lips curl into a smile.
"And an incredible marriage..." he whispers, letting his fingers slide on, "We are the definition of Targaryen. We would make Aegon and his sisters proud"
Your lips almost touch as you bite your lip lightly. Then you lean up and Daemon growls, disappointed at first. But then you swing your leg over his hip and you sit astride him, your hands sliding naturally onto his chest as your hips move slightly.
"Do you really think Aegon the Conqueror would be proud?" you ask seductively and Daemon growls slightly again, but this time not out of disappointment.
"That I married my uncle? That we'll have pure Targaryen children..." you say softly. His hands slide along your thighs to your hips, gripping you as his grin widens.
"I think he'd be proud to know that our house is as close to the gods as humans can get," he says playfully, no longer as serious as he usually is, but you manage to rouse his playful nature. You can see him staring at your body in the light of the candles, your curves and the way your body moves.
