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It was Daemon’s last salvation after his last stunt. He could either leave in exile from Westeros until Viserys felt like welcoming him back, or he could renounce his claim to the throne and take penance as a Dragonpriest. Exile meant freedom; he and Caraxes flying through the rest of the world, even conquering Essos if he felt like it. The idea of being King of the Slave cities, especially if he could conquer all three, put a sliver of egotistical arrogance in his brain. But Daemon couldn’t make that choice —not when he had family here. Even if he was confined to reading and regurgitating old Valyrian scripture and repeating meticulous rituals for the rest of his life (which Daemon was pretty sure did nothing for the dragons or the long-dead gods of Old Valyria, at least his family would still be nearby.)
Even with their anger and distrust, Daemon would rather have his family within arm's reach than an ocean away. At least then, he could gain his brother's love once more and keep a close eye on the scheming Otto Hightower, who whispered falsehoods in his ear while sending his young Alicent to wrap her legs around Viserys like a snake coiled around its prey. And Rheanyra… the thought of his dragon-spirited niece made his heart ache. He knew she was still angry for how he reacted to the death of her little brother, his nephew, whom he should’ve cherished. But she would come around.
Daemon’s thoughts of family were snapped out of his mind as he heard his name called, one of the Dragonkeepers standing at the end of the hall in his simple red garb. “Stand.” The Dragonkeeper spoke. Daemon recognized the elder from his youth, remembering the years he spent learning Valyrian from them and their songs for the dragons. Even now, Daemon knew what song all their claimed dragons liked the most. With heavy steps, he walked down the hall towards the Dragonkeeper, bowing his head in respect. “Welcome, Daemon Targaryen.” The man spoke, his voice raspy from the years.
“Thank you, Mesi,” Daemon said, lifting his head and following the elder Dragonkeeper down into the dragonpits of Dragonstone. He could sense Caraxes down there, their bond still just as strong as the day Daemon rode onto Caraxes the first time. Even if Caraxes was bonded with his uncle, Prince Aemon at the time, a bond grew that day between the two of them that never broke.
“Given that you are a Tagaryen and blood of the dragon, you will not be performing the usual ritual today,” Mesi explained, his back more hunched over than Daemon remembered. “Regardless of your taken royal status, the beastal blood that runs through your veins gives you a birthright that no one can take from you.”
“Speak carefully, Mesi. I may have known you since I was a green boy, but that beastal blood you speak of makes me strike like one when wounded, and I am very wounded.” Mesi only cleared his throat.
“As I was saying, you have a birthright as a Targaryen in this ancient group of Keepers.” Mesi continued, stopping when they reached the platform. The cavern was dark, save for the sunlight that poured in through the dragon's entrance. Daemon could hear the trill of Caraxes from somewhere in the cave. “Instead of being a Dragonkeeper, you will be a Dragonpriest.”
“What’s the difference?” Daemon asked, his violet eyes scanning the area for the sight of his dragon, his companion.
“Your duties will not be so focused on remembering the old stories and tales, but more on discovering more about the dragons. There is a ritual, old and barbaric, that you will complete.” Mesi’s voice became hesitant as he looked at Daemon. “There is a problem, however.”
“What sort of problem? Does it require some sort of ingredient that hasn’t been used or seen in centuries?” Daemon asked, a slight scoff leaving his lips. Just my luck. He thought, turning his gaze towards the other man.
“This ritual is typically done when a dragon is… younger. Usually between a pair where the egg was cribbed.” Mesi explained, his pauses dragging on longer. “Caraxes is quite big, so copulating might be…”
“You want me to fuck my dragon?” He asked in disbelief, almost taking a step back.
“Like I said, it’s typically done when a dragon is younger.” Mesi reiterated.
“Caraxes is fully grown. Regardless of what genitals he takes on, nothing is going to fit anywhere.” Daemon said, his voice rising a little. His mind was drawing blanks. The idea of copulating with a dragon? He wasn’t even sure if he had even thought of it before. Perhaps flying off to conquer Essos would’ve been better. At least then he wouldn’t risk getting impaled on a dragon’s cock. The thought of it made a strange tingle go up Daemon’s spine that he immediately decided to ignore.
“Luckily, we have some leeway. The only requirement is that both of you come to completion at least once.” Daemon ran a hand over his face and through his hair. Was this some sick joke that Viserys was playing on him? A way to humiliate him back after what he had done in that bar? It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. “There are benefits to this ritual, ones that I think will make it worth it,” Mesi said, his tone turning a bit softer.
“What on earth could this ritual bring that would make jerking off my dragon worth it?” Daemon’s voice was filled with an uneasy laugh.
“You will be able to communicate with the dragons. All of them, as long as you still have your bond with Caraxes.” Daemon’s sarcastic smile dropped, his features softening a bit. To understand what the dragons were saying, truly saying, was something all Targaryens dreamed of. At least, it was for Daemon. He knew that dragons and riders just had an understanding that came through willed emotions, but at the end of the day, that was nothing compared to the ability to have a conversation with them. After a long silence, he spoke up.
“When do I have to… copulate with him?” Daemon asked, not believing the words that were coming out of his mouth.
“Whenever you are ready to. We understand it’s… a lot to process. It took one of your ancestors two weeks before she was ready to. Although her motivation was how fast her dragon was growing.” Mesi said, turning to face Daemon fully. “When you complete it, come to us.” Mesi gave him a bow before leaving. Daemon looked back out into the cavern, shaking his head. And then, in the dark, he saw two yellow eyes peering at him.
“I can see you,” Daemon said, his tone loud but not unkind. He walked closer to the edge of the platform, watching as Caraxes’ long neck stretched out of the shadows. His red scales reflected like rubies in the sunlight, and the breath from his ram-shaped nostrils was an all-encompassing heat. Daemon leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the warm snout, bringing his hands up to rub just above the beast's thin lips. “I’m sure you heard what the dragonkeeper was saying. The idea is barbaric, but… I would like to talk to you.” Daemon admitted, his tone a bit quieter. He felt a surge of affection shoot up his spine, his way of knowing that the incoming rush of emotions was coming from Caraxes. It was almost comical how the great Blood Wyrm had a soft spot for a comparably tiny human. But given this entire situation was comical enough, Daemon didn’t let his thoughts linger too long on it.
“I suppose some steaming silks and pillows are in order.” Daemon stepped back slowly from Caraxes, looking up at the beast. Could he go through with this? He met one of the large yellow eyes, seeing his reflection in the pupil. Caraxes lowered his head, gently nudging Daemon, sending a feeling of delight up his spine.
+-+
With as much of a straight face as Daemon could muster, he ordered the serving staff of Dragonstone to gather as many pillows as they could and bring steaming silks out to lay over them in the dragon pit, coming up with some excuse about Caraxes having a sore joint. Once Daemon was alone with Caraxes, he felt… nervous . And Daemon Targaryen did not get nervous. He felt like a green boy, almost too shy to look his dragon in the face, knowing he was about to get intimate with him. But Caraxes only made his way over to where Daemon was on the platform, nudging him with his head. With firm hands, Daemon pressed and rubbed his columella, listening to how the dragon trilled at the feeling.
He took more look around the cavern, making sure the two of them were truly alone, and he started to strip naked, tossing his clothing in a spot that Caraxes likely wouldn’t get to. He made his way over to the piles of silk, letting himself sink into the warm dampness of them. It did feel good, but he was still a little unsure of how to exactly jerk off a dragon. He felt a warmth press against his back, Caraxes breathing on Daemon to heat the silks a bit more. Then, he felt a wet warmth pressed against his back, the dragon licking Daemon. Not expecting the force, he jumped forward a bit, turning around to face Caraxes.
“Cheeky.” He said, his tone laced with an affection he rarely used. “Something tells me you might actually know more about this than I do,” Daemon said, sitting with his legs criss-crossed. They could only stare at each other, Daemons letting out a soft sigh. He still couldn’t believe he was going through with this, but at this moment, he wished he could hear Caraxes' response. He couldn’t count how many times he had wished he could hear his bonded companion talk back to him, what he was saying when he let out annoyed trills, or just to hear the old beast complain about an achy tummy after eating too many sheep.
A soft clicking noise pulled Daemon from his thoughts, his violet eyes focusing on the beast in front of him. Despite the current barrier between them, he could see the question in Caraxes's still gaze. Do you trust me? Daemon almost laughed. He trusted Caraxes more than he trusted himself, the one constant in his life since Daemon was a babe, suckling on his mother's tits. Daemon nodded, feeling his heart rate increase. He was used to adrenaline when he would visit brothel houses or find a particular handsome knight in the gold cloaks, but this felt different. This felt like when Viserys hugged him and Rheanyra bounced on his knee, with his mother and father would let him cuddle in their bed. This felt like love, like how it should for one's dragon's blood.
Most people who knew Daemon said he knew no bounds, and that included his love for his family, for his companions, and this new feeling felt like receiving that same love back. It almost brought tears to his eyes as he let Caraxes gently push him to lie down with his snout. He felt something soothing wash over him, spreading out from each vertebrae. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch, his legs spread in front of his dragon. Daemon had never considered himself to be self-conscious, but being under the gaze of a great beast that represented something deep inside himself made him wonder if he was worthy enough in Carax's gaze. But before those thoughts could fester, the wyrm stuck his tongue out, pressing the hot muscle against Daemon between his legs and licking him slowly.
And Daemon moaned. He seemed surprised at the noise that left his mouth, the way his skin tingled at the touch. The tip of Caraxes' tongue was the perfect length to press Daemons member against his belly and rub against it without completely drenching Daemon in saliva too quickly, the man under him letting his eyes roll back. It felt good. Planting his feet flat, he pressed his hips up against the tongue, grinding against the slick heat. He shivered as he felt the warm saliva sliding down his balls and seeping down to his hole. His cock twitched at the idea of Caraxes inside him, even if he knew that it would be impossible.
And it seemed his idea, and hopefully worries, were intense enough that Caraxes picked up on them, a low purr leaving his chest. Faint vibrations made Daemon jerk, followed by a sigh of disappointment as he felt the tongue pull back. “Don’t you dare tease me.” Daemon breathed out, his tone filled with a false warning. With a gentle nudge from his snout, Daemon rolled over onto his stomach, his cock throbbing at the idea of Caraxes mounting him. Images of it flashed in his head, and he could feel Caraxes breathing a bit warmer above him. He felt the tip of Caraxes' tongue press against his backside, and Daemon spread his legs, bringing his hands up to grip his thighs to expose himself further. The thick tip pressed against Daemon's hole, just rubbing against it.
Daemon slid one of his hands around, pressing two fingers into himself, using the salvia as lube while he pleasured himself. With his eyes closed, he pictured it was Caraxes' tongue inside of him instead, wiggling around and stretching him out. As he slid in a third finger, he tried to picture the pleasant stretch and fullness that would come from being stretched out by his companion, a soft noise escaping his pink lips. Daemon could sense Caraxes was imagining the same thing, his tongue pressing a little harder against Daemon’s rim, like he wanted to get just the tip in. Daemon felt his cock throb against, and Caraxes' tongue slid down, his tongue long enough to press against his swollen member and still pulse against his stretched hole.
Within seconds, Daemon came. A soft groan escaped his lips as he did so, shooting hot ropes onto Carax's tongue. His fingers slid out of his hole, and he lay face down on the silks. For having come so fast, Daemon wasn’t sure when the last time he had come that hard was, his vision going white for a brief moment. He heard a simple command in his head, the kind that came when a dragon tried to wield itself into its rider's mind, something not all dragons could do. Don’t move. With a new thrill going up his spine, Daemon stayed still. The platform under him shook as Caraxes climbed up, positioning himself so he was standing tall, so he could be comfortable. His upper claws gripped onto stalactites as he settled his hips down on the silk.
Daemon opened his eyes when the world around him stopped trembling, and he looked over his shoulder, only seeing the great beast of Caraxes behind him. He watched as the split between his legs opened up just enough for a long appendage to come sticking out, growing long and girthy. The base was a mount of flesh, the muscle itself pink and slick with ridges, each section getting a little bigger than the last. Caraxes slid the muscle under Daemon, who moved to lightly lie on the silk, the pink appendage rubbing against his belly. Each slow glide rubbed against his already spent member, making him twitch. His legs closed together, adding pressure around the appendage that Caraxes seemed to enjoy.
With slow movements, he fucked Daemons' sculpted thighs, low purrs escaping his chest. Whenever the tip almost slipped out from between his thighs, Daemon felt a little jolt of nervousness and excitement shoot up his spine, making him twitch with a dull ache. Daemon slid a hand down under him, pressing against the tip. His thumb quickly found the slit, rubbing over it to spread the warm stickiness leaking from it. His tip was large, about the size of Daemon’s fist, and he shivered at the idea that it could fit, even if it was only just a little. But would Caraxes be able to hold back? Can such a great beast cum from just a little stimulation on the tip, or would Daemon get filled and stretched to his capacity, molded to fit his dragon's cock?
The thought alone made his cock hard again, even if it was red and angry. He squished his thighs together a little tighter, his thighs clamping down when he felt Caraxes slip out from between them, his member spreading his cheeks, pressing against his hole but not penetrating it. A line of pure adrenaline came through Daemon's body, almost sure that he was about to get impaled and fucked bloody. They both stilled before Daemon relaxed, sinking a little more into the silk. He spread his legs, inviting Caraxes back in between his thighs- but Caraxes had his own idea.
The dragon gently pressed against Daemon's hole, causing the Targaryen to shiver and hitch his breath. He swallowed hard, trying to relax more against the silk. The leaking precum from his tip made Daemon’s skin tingle, almost like it had a natural relaxing remedy to it. Was this also something Daemon's ancestors experienced- a dragon making something to help its partners relax? Did they too shiver when they felt the sticky substance coat their insides? With a soft pop, Caraxes slid just the tip inside, and Daemon arched his hips.
It felt like too much and not enough at the same time; his body was unsure if he wanted to run from the intrusion or chase after it. Caraxes was about to move, but a gasp escaped Daemon, and his body tightened up a little, Caraxes stopping his movements. He peered down at the Targaryen, yellow eyes watching him intensely. After taking a second to breathe, Daemon started to move instead, sinking a little deeper before pulling back slowly. He felt so full- more than just in his stomach, but in his soul. He was one with his dragon, one with the one companion that had always been at his side, that had never left him. His mother and father had left him when they died, and he had chased Viserys and Rhaenyra away with his cruel taunts. But Caraxes stayed.
Daemon tried to think about why he felt so emotional , feeling unlike himself in the throes of passion, but his mind went blank every time he felt Caraxes’ cock press against his prostate, that tingle feeling shooting up his spine. Each press against the small muscle made his cock throb until he came again, shooting out smaller ropes and dribbles. The muscles of his ass pulsed around Caraxes' tip, and with a low growl from within the wyrm's chest, Caraxes came. Daemon felt a small pressure before Caraxes slipped out with a pop, leaking a warm sticky liquid over Daemon's hips. He wanted to be furious that his dragon didn’t even have the decency to aim in a different direction, but he felt a tiredness seep into his bones. He could feel cum leaking out of him, pooling onto the silks under him, and he was positive that he had gotten some inside of him.
Now the next step was getting to the Dragonkeepers and telling them he completed the ritual, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move. Instead, he moved to a less cummed on area and used another silk sheet to lazily wipe his hip off.
“Not as big a mess as I thought I would make.” A low voice spoke in Daemon's head, causing him to snap his head up, looking at Caraxes.
“Did you just speak?” He asked, a look of shock on his face.
“I did. I see the ritual worked, even with our workaround.” Caraxes said, moving to crawl off the platform and bring his head closer to Daemon. Tears pooled up in his eyes, an overwhelming mix of emotions swirling around Daemons’ sex-blown mind.
“I can’t believe it really worked. I can… I can hear you. I can only assume you must have at least something you want to say to me now that I’ll understand you directly.” Daemon said, feeling tears still stinging his eyes.
“I have many things I could tell you, but right now I think you should get cleaned up,” Caraxes said, gently snagging a silk sheet with some of his teeth and dragging it over to Daemon. “And sleep. It’s an important part of dragon mating to sleep with one's mate.” Caraxes said, his voice a low rumble in Daemon's head. With shaky legs, Daemon stood and cleaned himself off with the silk sheets and got dressed back into his clothes.
“Have you mated with other Targaryens before?” Daemon asked, looking at Caraxes as he slipped his belt through its loops. His question was curious, but Caraxes could sense the festering jealousy hidden under the surface.
“No, but all dragons are taught the ritual. We pass our history down the same way as you do.” Caraxes said, a hint of humor in his tone. “After you are dressed, I’ll fly us somewhere we can rest undisturbed,” Caraxes said, stretching himself out and moving to position himself next to the platform so Daemon could just hop on when he was ready. The two of them flew out to a small grove on the other side of the island, Caraxes finding a comfortable spot to lie in the thick grass, Daemon sliding down to nestle against his neck, leaning against his companion.
“I have so many questions to ask you,” Daemon said, looking at Caraxes’ face.
“And I will answer them all later. But I can feel your exhaustion. Rest.”
“But-”
“ Rest. ” Caraxes mused with a low chuckle. Daemon couldn’t deny that his bones felt limp, and he had almost fallen asleep on the ride over. Giving in, Daemon moved to lie on his side, warm scales pressed against his back, where he drifted into sleep.