Claiming the Dragon

To King's Landing, Then

*Notes* 

Sorry for the wait! I know this story has been posted before, but, as my writing has improved in the 2 years since I began this fic, I have been heavily editing every chapter. As always, thank you all for reading, commenting, sharing, etc. My readers have been everything to me these few years. You all keep me going!

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Rhaenyra stared at the ceiling anxiously, listening to Daemon's deep even breathing beside her. Jealousy boiled in her gut and it took all the will she could muster not to lean over and smother him with her pillow. She had tossed and turned for hours but, no matter how she tried, sleep would not claim her.

They had planned to travel to King's Landing the very next day and the princess was becoming an increasingly nervous mess. She was apprehensive, not only for her reunion with the king and queen, but also for her impending labors. Regardless of the endless reassurances she had received from Daemon, the princess repeatedly envisioned her mother, pale and covered in blood, her last breath taken for a babe that lived only a matter of hours.

Her gut churned and she lurched from bed, reaching for the carafe of water. She gulped down the entire cup, the cool liquid calming her turning stomach, and made for the chair in front of stone the mantle. Hours or minutes later, she wasn't sure, Daemon found her seated in front of the fire, staring blankly into the flames.

"Come back to bed, Rhaenyra," he requested, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I can't," she responded, shrugging away from his touch, "I can't sleep." There was a long, contemplative silence, and then the prince was scooping her up in his arms. She battled against him and fussed, but his grip was sure as he carried her back to the bed. There, he pulled the furs over them and wrapped his arms around her.

"Emā daorun naejot zūgagon, zaldrītsos. Ēdrugon, ñuha jorrāelagon." You have nothing to fear, little dragon. Sleep, my love . He stroked the side of her face, continuing to whisper sweet nothings into her ear in their mother-tongue. Eventually, the lull of Daemon's voice eased her overworking mind and sleep finally claimed her...

Daemon wasn't quite sure what woke him, the sweet whimpering sounds his wife was making, or the pure euphoria pulsing through this body. "Fuck," he groaned softly, his voice still rough with sleep. He blinked repeatedly, against the light, Rhaenyra coming into focus, her hands wrapped tightly around his naked erection. "What are you doing?" She grinned mischievously at him, leaning forward and swirling her tongue around the tip. His entire body shuddered with pleasure as his head fell back in bliss.

And then she was climbing on top of him, allowing his brain no time to process; his mouth no time protest. She was pressing down on him, impaling herself on his swollen cock.

"Wait, don't—"

"Gods, please, Daemon," she pleaded, sounding on the verge of tears, "please don't make me beg." He looked up at her, her pupils blown wide, a feral look of pained desire on her face. Fuck it all.

"Lā zaldrīzes gaomas daor epagon.Iā zaldrīzes mērī mazēza." he told her. A dragon doesn't beg. A dragon only takes. A feeling of relief washed over Rhaenyra and she dropped her hips, burying him inside her. Her head fell back, a whine of satisfaction escaping her lips, and Daemon's self-control melted away. He took hold of her hips as she bucked and bounced on top of him, all the while emitting tiny, delightful sounds of pleasure that were music to his ears.

He had gone months without a proper fuck and the prince quickly found himself on the precipice of completion. His hands made its way over her breasts, pausing to caress her swollen nipples until they stood stiff and aching. Then, across her swollen belly, to finally slide between them and caressed her gently, pushing her over the edge. Her back arched, her body tensed and she tightened around him, sending him careening into sweet oblivion.