⚠️Smut⚠️
The tension in the chambers of Dragonstone was palpable, a storm brewing beneath the surface. Daemon had been on edge for days, his anger simmering just below his cool exterior. He was a man who thrived on action, on blood and fire, but the pressures of war, the incessant demands of their enemies, and the weight of his responsibilities had all begun to grind away at him. He was restless, frustrated, and filled with a deep, burning anger that he hadn't yet been able to unleash.
Rhaenyra knew him better than anyone, knew what he needed even before he did. She had been watching him, waiting for the moment when his control would snap. Tonight, she was ready to give him exactly what he needed. She knelt on her bed, her posture perfect, her expression serene. She was a vision of submission, her loose nightgown barely covering her curves, the sheer fabric revealing more than it concealed. Her hair flowed down her back in soft waves, and her eyes were fixed on the door, waiting for him.
When Daemon finally entered, the atmosphere in the room seemed to crackle with electricity. His gaze locked onto her the moment he stepped inside, his eyes darkening with something almost dangerous. He didn't say a word as he stalked towards her, his movements sharp and predatory. He was like a dragon ready to strike, his body coiled with tension and fury.
As soon as he reached the edge of the bed, he tore at the buckles of his belts, yanking them off and throwing them aside with barely controlled violence. His tunic followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor, leaving him in nothing but a dark red silk shirt and his trousers. His chest heaved with each breath, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back.
"Come here," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and sultry, but it was clear she wasn't asking.
Daemon's lips curled into a smirk, but it was devoid of any real humor. His eyes were hard, burning with a fire that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with the fury that had been building within him for days. He moved towards her, each step deliberate, as if he was holding himself back from simply pouncing on her.
Rhaenyra didn't flinch as he approached. She knew what he needed, knew that he was teetering on the edge of control and that she was the one who could push him over. She reached out as he came closer, her hand sliding into the waistband of his trousers, her touch light and teasing as she felt the heat of him through the fabric. Daemon inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat as she rubbed him, his cock already hardening beneath her fingers.
But this wasn't enough. Not for him. Not tonight.
With a low growl, Daemon's hand shot out, gripping her chin with a force that was almost bruising. His thumb brushed against her lips, his touch rough, demanding. Rhaenyra obediently parted her lips, taking his thumb into her mouth and sucking on it, her eyes never leaving his. The control, the power he held over her, made his cock throb in his trousers, the frustration and anger from the past few days channeling into something darker, something more primal.
Daemon's other hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back sharply as he bent down to capture her lips in a brutal kiss. There was nothing gentle about it—he was taking what was his, claiming her with a ferocity that made her moan into his mouth. His tongue invaded her mouth, dominating the kiss, and Rhaenyra could only submit, her body melting against his.
Without warning, Daemon yanked her down onto the bed, flipping her onto her back with a force that made her gasp. His hands were everywhere at once, pulling at the hem of her nightgown, ripping it off her body with no care for the delicate fabric. He wanted her naked, exposed, and vulnerable beneath him. The nightgown was tossed aside, forgotten, as he loomed over her, his eyes raking over her bare body with a hunger that bordered on madness.
