Work Text:
Duncan had been standing at his post for what felt like half the afternoon while the lords and princes of the realm argued over matters he only half understood. Something about grain tariffs, and fleet repairs. Also borders somewhere far to the east. But none of it held his attention for long.
He stood tall near the wall with the other guards, hands folded behind his back, trying to look as though he cared deeply about the fate of the kingdom. Yet, truthfully, his mind wandered.
Eventually the bickering faded, chairs scraped, and the nobles began filing out in clusters of conversation.
One by one, they left. Until only one remained.
Prince Aerion sat sprawled at the end of the long table, utterly unconcerned with the grand matters that had filled the room moments before. A silver bowl sat before him, piled with grapes still glistening with dew.
Duncan had never seen fruit like that before. Round, deep purple, almost black in the light. They looked… expensive.
He shifted slightly where he stood, eyes drifting despite himself. What must something like that taste like? Sweet, probably. Rich...and nothing like the hard apples or rough bread he’d grown up with.
A voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you planning to stare at them all day, Ser Duncan,” Aerion asked lazily, “or would you like one?”
Dunk blinked.
Somehow, he had been watching the knight the entire time. The prince leaned back in his chair, lilac eyes amused as he plucked a grape from the bowl. He turned it between slender fingers, letting the light catch its skin.
Then, slowly, he brought it to his lips. His teeth broke the skin and juice glistened briefly at the corner of his mouth before he licked it away.
Duncan swallowed.
“Come here, oaf." The corner of his mouth curved. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakably an order.
Duncan hesitated only a moment before pushing off the wall and crossing the length of the chamber. His boots echoed softly against the stone floor as he approached the table.
Aerion didn’t look up. He simply reached for another grape.
Duncan stopped at the edge of the table. Before he could say anything, a sharp kick struck the back of his knees. It wasn’t hard enough to truly hurt him, but it was sudden enough to make his legs buckle. Though confused, he dropped to one knee automatically, the other following a moment later.
Aerion finally looked down at him, like a man inspecting a particularly interesting animal. Then he plucked another grape from the bowl and held it out. “For you.”
Duncan hesitated. Was this some twisted test?
“Go on,” Aerion murmured.
The knight leaned forward slightly and took the fruit from the prince’s fingers with his mouth. It burst between his teeth instantly.
Gods, it was sweet and nothing like anything he’d tasted before.
The Targaryen watched his reaction with amusement. “I thought you might enjoy that.” Another grape appeared between his fingers. Duncan accepted it again, slower this time.
Aerion’s gaze sharpened. The next grape he held closer, close enough that Duncan’s lips brushed his fingers when he took it.
A faint spark of heat ran up the dragon's arm. The prince selected another fruit, turning it thoughtfully between his fingers before offering once more.
Duncan leaned forward and this time his tongue flicked lightly against Aerion’s fingertips as he took the grape.
Aerion’s breath caught, only slightly, but Duncan noticed. He lifted his head, meeting the prince’s eyes for the first time since kneeling submissively before him. There was something different in his expression now.
Aerion narrowed his eyes. “You’re getting bold, Ser Duncan.”
The knight shrugged faintly. “You’re feeding me like a hound, sire.”
Another grape hovered between Aerion’s fingers. “Perhaps you are one.”
Duncan leaned forward again. This time he didn’t rush at all and his mouth closed slowly around the fruit. His tongue brushed deliberately along Aerion’s fingers as he pulled away. Warm...slow.
The prince’s breath hitched again. Heat crept up the back of his neck, spreading into his cheeks.
Duncan chewed thoughtfully. “Still sweet."
The prince stared down at him. The knight looked entirely too comfortable on his knees.
Yet another grape remained in the bowl. He picked it up slowly. But this time, when Duncan leaned forward to take it, the prince didn’t let go.
Instead he leaned down across the table, bringing his face much closer to Duncan’s than before.
“Careful,” Aerion murmured, voice uncharacteristically softer now. Duncan’s lips were still brushing his fingers.
“Or what, Sire?” the knight asked quietly. Aerion’s eyes flashed.
“Or I might decide,” he said, lowering his voice further, “that you should earn the rest.”
Duncan didn’t look away. The grape disappeared between his teeth, sweet juice bursting across his tongue, but his mouth still lingered close to Aerion’s hand. His breath brushed warm across the prince’s fingers.
Aerion felt it. Felt the warmth. The slow exhale. The deliberate way Dunk's tongue had grazed his skin before he took the fruit.
Up close like this, kneeling between Aerion’s knees, the knight looked even larger somehow, broad shoulders filling the space beneath the table, hair falling slightly across his brow. A man built for battle, reduced to kneeling at a prince’s command.
It should have looked pitiful. Instead, Aerion felt heat curling low in his stomach.
He withdrew his hand slowly, but Duncan’s gaze followed the movement.
Bold.
Far too bold.
The Targaryen leaned forward slightly over the table, elbows resting against the wood as he studied him. “You’re enjoying this rather too much,” the prince murmured.
“You told me to kneel, sire.”
“That does not mean you should look so pleased about it.”
The knight’s mouth twitched. “You’re the one feeding me.”
Aerion’s eyes narrowed. Before Duncan could react, the prince reached out and caught him roughly by the chin, guiding his face upward.
Lilac eyes, sharp. Slightly flushed now.
“You forget yourself,” Aerion said softly.
Duncan didn’t look away. “Do I, sire?”
The prince’s thumb brushed briefly along Duncan’s lower lip where a trace of grape juice still lingered. The motion was absentminded at first.
Then Aerion seemed to realize what he was doing. His thumb paused.
Duncan’s breath deepened slightly. Neither of them moved, and the room went very quiet.
Aerion withdrew his hand slowly, but Duncan caught his wrist before he could fully pull away. Not roughly, but just enough to stop him.
The prince’s eyes widened slightly. “You-”
Duncan lifted Aerion’s hand back toward his mouth. Very slowly. Then he pressed a kiss against the inside of the prince’s wrist.
He inhaled sharply. “You really are an oaf,” he whispered.
Duncan smiled faintly against his skin. “If you say so sire, I must be.”
Aerion should have pulled away and punished the knight. Instead, he leaned forward across the table and the rest of the distance between them vanished in a heartbeat.
When Aerion kissed him, it was nothing like a peck. This one lingered.
Duncan didn’t hesitate.
One large hand came up to brace against the edge of the table beside Aerion’s hip, steadying himself as he leaned into the kiss. The other slid slowly around the back of the prince’s chair.
Aerion made a quiet sound against his mouth, half irritation, half something softer. “Behave,” he murmured again, breath warm against Duncan’s lips.
“You keep saying that,” The knight replied.
Aerion’s fingers curled lightly into Duncan’s messy hair. “Because you never listen.”
Dunk only tilted his head and kissed him again in response, and deeper this time. For a moment the prince forgot entirely about dignity, about court and about the guards outside the doors. All he could feel was the warmth of that large hand at his waist and the way the knight kissed him like he meant it.
When they finally broke apart, Aerion’s breathing had grown uneven. His ears were pink again.
Duncan looked unfairly pleased.
“You’re trouble oaf,” Aerion muttered.
“You started it...sire.”
Aerion glanced down at the nearly empty bowl of grapes. Then back at the knight kneeling between his knees.
A slow, almost cruel smile curved his lips. “Perhaps,” he said softly, “But, I’m not finished yet.”