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It is a fine summer evening, clear and temperate, the warm air drifting through Rhaenyra’s open windows on fluttering curtains. She should be perfectly comfortable, lounging in the garden to watch the sun set. Instead she is indoors and sweating.
“Daemon,” she manages, pressing her forehead to the crook of his bare shoulder. “Daemon, I—“
“What is it, sweetling?” he asks, tracing gentle fingers up her arching spine. His voice is looser, more relaxed, than Rhaenyra thinks she has ever heard it.
“You know,” she grits out. Rhaenyra fights herself, trying, trying to keep her hips still the way Daemon had instructed her, but—it is an impossible thing. She lets them nudge forward, just the tiniest bit, and then rock back again. “I need you to move.”
She is seated in Daemon’s lap in a chair by the open balcony, her legs spread on either side of his. He is holding her to his chest like a child, her head tucked beneath his, her cheek resting on his shoulder. It would be a perfectly sweet position for uncle and niece—were Rhaenyra about ten years younger.
And were his thick, weeping cock not buried to the hilt inside her.
“I need you to stay still for me,” he coos. He smooths a hand down her back, lingering on the swell of her ass. “I know how impatient you are, though.”
“M’not impatient,” Rhaenyra complains. But even as she says it, her hips rock forward again, just another inch. She cannot hold back her moan as his cock fucks just that much deeper inside her.
“Oh, but you are, little one. I can feel how much you want to come. Feel your pretty little cunt clenching around me. You are making it very difficult to relax.”
His words shoot straight to Rhaenyra’s core. She whimpers again, her body indeed tightening around Daemon’s cock. “I—I’m sorry, uncle.”
“Don’t be sorry, sweetling. Do you want me to make you come? Right now? So that you can truly relax for me, sit here as long as I want you to?”
Rhaenyra’s head snaps up, eyes wide. She searches Daemon’s face, looking for the trap. Of course she wants for him to make her come; just the idea is enough to have her squirming in place again, wriggling back and forth until Daemon’s hands come down to hold her hips still. But her uncle is not usually one to offer these things for free. Will he punish her, later, if she cannot hold back her orgasm now? Or perhaps… perhaps he truly is so relaxed with his cock resting inside her, all his worries spooling out of him, that he is simply feeling benevolent.
Whatever it is, Rhaenyra cannot resist. “Yes, I want that,” she says hurriedly. “Want to come now, come on your cock, Daemon, please—“
He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “So impatient, my Rhaenyra,” he says in High Valyrian. But his hand slides around from its place on her hip to find her clit instead, clever fingers beginning to circle over it. At the same time, he rocks his hips upward—not truly thrusting into her, not quite withdrawing, but maintaining a steady friction against that spot inside her, that spot that makes her see stars. She moans, hands scrabbling at his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “It’s not going to take you long at all, is it? My good girl.”
It is not. Rhaenyra’s entire body tenses and relaxes, her legs quivering on either side of Daemon’s. She leans back and spreads her thighs wide, giving him better access to her clit, reveling in the feel of his barely-there thrusts inside her, the wide stretch of his cock filling her cunt. Daemon is so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. The waning golden sunlight on his silver hair is molten, coating him in warmth, limning the sharpness of his features in brilliant gold. She can hardly breathe to see it. Her hand comes up from his shoulder to trace his bottom lip, rubbing at the slick plushness of it. As she gets closer and closer to her orgasm, the pressure of it building at the base of her spine, her breaths turn to tiny, aborted little whimpers, each coming out on the edge of a pant: ah, ah, ah.
The wave of pleasure rising inside her finally reaches its peak. It spills over into her blood, her legs shaking, cunt spasming as she comes. Daemon grips her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her naked flesh, and gives her a few more shallow thrusts, fucking her through it.
When she is finished, all she can do is sag against him, panting. Daemon lets out another low chuckle, his arms wrapping around her.
“Is that better?” he asks.
Rhaenyra nods against his chest. It is better—much better. With the urgency of her arousal dulled, it is as though she can feel everything with new and heightened intensity: the burn of her spread thighs, the softness of Daemon’s skin against hers, the stretch of his cock filling her. Everything is drawn out and hazy, suspended in the warm, fading evening sunlight.
“Good,” Daemon hums, satisfied. His thumbs circle her hips, ever so gentle. “Now, relax, little one.”
“What will happen now?” Rhaenyra asks sleepily. Her eyes have drifted shut.
“Now, I shall keep you here until I am sick of it,” says Daemon. “And then I shall fuck you senseless.”
Despite herself, a jolt of arousal shoots through Rhaenyra, and she tightens around the cock still hard inside her. Daemon pets her sides, gently, shushing her.
“Not now, darling,” he says. “Relax.”
Rhaenyra does. She allows herself to drift against Daemon, relaxing into his comforting warmth. He is still against her, aside from the movement of his fingers scratching against her sides and the occasional pulse of his cock inside her.
She does not know how much time passes. It could be minutes or hours or even days spent sagging in Daemon’s lap, matching her slow breathing to his. All the tension has bled out of her—and out of Daemon, too. She can tell; he is never this relaxed. His head is tipped back against the back of his chair, his chest rising and falling with gentle motions. Time has lost all meaning. It is only Rhaenyra and Daemon, lost in one another, as close as they can possibly be. Rhaenyra wants to stay this way forever.
When she finally comes back to awareness, it is to the feeling of Daemon tugging gently at her nipples. She lets out a quiet whimper, squirming a little in his lap.
“Hello, sweetling,” he says, sounding amused. “Are you back with me?”
Rhaenyra lifts her head. The sun has all but disappeared from the sky, casting her quarters in shadows. Only the fire burning in the fireplace and the lamps bracketed to the walls provide light, orange and flickering. “How—how long’s it been?”
Daemon pinches her nipple, drawing another whimper out of her. “I couldn’t say,” he admits. “But I believe,” he adds, and here he presses his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “I believe I promised I would fuck you senseless.”
His hips move, then, his cock nudging up inside her for the first time in forever. Rhaenyra moans and shifts in his lap, positioning herself so that she can rise up on her knees, fuck up and down onto his cock—but he stops her.
“Not like this, little one,” he murmurs. And with that, he wraps his arms around her and stands, collecting her easily in his arms. His cock slips out of her as they move, and Rhaenyra makes a pitiful sound of protest.
“I know,” Daemon says soothingly, “but only for a moment.” He carries her over to the bed, where he places her gently down onto her back. Rhaenyra stretches out into the softness of the mattress, allowing her stiff limbs to unwind.
It is only a moment before Daemon crawls over top of her, his still-wet cock glistening in the light. Rhaenyra’s mouth waters at the sight. She spreads her legs for her uncle, holding herself open, begging him with her body to follow through on his promise to fuck her out of her mind.
He obliges. He slides easily back inside her, and Rhaenyra moans at the feeling. Every inch of her body alights as Daemon presses in and in and in, as deep as he can possibly go, and then draws back—only to thrust in again, this time with more force.
“Yes,” he hisses, his voice gravelly. “So good for me, Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra tilts her hips up on the next stroke, urging Daemon even deeper, and they both groan as he slams in to the hilt. It is a blinding sort of pleasure, one that has been slowly building all the way since her last orgasm—and already Rhaenyra is careening toward the edge again, her body fluttering around Daemon’s.
He is braced above her with his hands on either side of her head, thrusting in and out of her with the rough, slapping sound of skin against skin. All Rhaenyra can do is lay back and take it. She grips weakly at his hips with her fingers, tries to match his thrusts with her own hips, but he is too overwhelming. He leans down to kiss her once, messy, and then draws back again, sweat dripping from his silver hairline.
“Daemon,” she says breathily, “Daemon, I’m going to—“
“Are you going to come for me again, sweetling? My greedy little girl. Want to feel your cunt around my cock as you come—fuck you with your own release, all wet for me, do it—“
And with that, Rhaenyra comes for the second time that night, whimpering and babbling senselessly as her orgasm shatters through her. He does not stop fucking into her through it, but continues to thrust in and out, deep, her body clenching around him all the while.
“You are so perfect for me,” he praises, “look at you, coming all over your uncle’s cock like a good girl. You just couldn’t help it, could you? Can’t help but take when there’s a cock in you, all that pleasure—you deserve it, sweetling, my princess, Rhaenyra—“
Daemon babbles and babbles, words of praise and pleasure pouring from his lips as he plunges toward his own orgasm, his hips beginning to stutter in their rhythm. It only takes a few more strokes before he is finishing inside her, hot ropes of come filling her cunt, his thrusts growing wet and messy with it.
Rhaenyra thrusts her own hips up as best she can, trying to indulge Daemon as his own motions grow weak and shaky. He continues to push into her until his cock begins to soften, and they both come to a quiet, panting rest.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra manages, her head tipping back to rest against the mattress. “Gods.”
He laughs, breathless. “Indeed.”
After a moment he collapses beside her, tucking her against his chest. “I love you,” he murmurs, stroking his cheek against the top of her head. A warm glow fills Rhaenyra’s chest, as warm as her orgasm—more.
“I love you too, uncle,” she responds.
It is barely evening—they have the whole night ahead of them. Perhaps they will fuck again; perhaps not. But for now, they have one another, and a soft bed, and the warm curl of each other’s bodies. Rhaenyra snuggles into Daemon’s side, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder.
For now, this is enough.