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Among Aegon’s preferred whores were the ones with Valyrian features — be they natural, like the Lyseni, or had they bleached their hair with lye. Dark eyes broke the illusion but whores would often enough close their eyes as to give the illusion of their patron’s great prowess with his manhood when he was inside of them, but them meeting his eye as they sucked his cock was an entirely different matter, then he had to look away.
It was only a small condolence for the fact that he couldn’t just crawl beneath the sheets of Rhaenyra’s bed and between her legs whenever he wished to, despite the fact that they were married. It came to be when Ser Laenor died and Grandfather had pulled some strings in order to arrange a marriage between the widow and Aegon within the year, breaking up the arrangement Mother had made between him and Helaena, to his relief and his mother’s fury.
“Rhaenyra is going to have him killed”, he overheard one evening in an argument between Queen Alicent and Ser Otto.
“She wouldn’t dare — neither of them. Aegon is their kin.”
“As was Laenor!”
A deep sigh. “The consequences to this would be most dire — more so than if what you believe about the circumstances of Laenor’s death is true.”
“What do you believe might Viserys do against his brother?”
That was when he decided he had heard enough and left. He was drunk at the time and to be preoccupied by the thought of Daemon appearing in his chambers late at night and shoving his sword through Aegon’s skull as Rhaenyra stood next to him, grinning like a ghoul from the Seven Hells was not a pleasant one. Even if the idea of Rhaenyra’s sweet smile at the sight of violence was something that awoke his cock.
They hadn’t consume their marriage on their wedding night either, even if they had been bedded. Just the sight of Rhaenyra’s naked body, her thighs, her heavy breasts that had already nursed three children (his step-sons now, as well as his nephews) rendered him speechless and excited him, but Rhaenyra glared at him and said: “I have no interest in your little cock, husband.”
The word ‘husband’ was spoken as one would say ‘dog’ or ‘vermin’, and while Aegon was close to answering with “Your husband’s cock is anything but little, wife”, he thought better of it.
But after four years, he had grown tired of settling for pale imitations of who he was wed to, in fear of whether there was a jealous paramour in the dark who could overpower him. Maybe drink had loosened his inhibitions and turned him into a daring warrior.
He reached Rhaenyra’s door, and Ser Lorent slipped in to tell the Princess of his arrival.
“What do you want, husband?” Rhaenyra asked. She was already dressed in her nightgown, a silken black thing that fell down her body just like her loose hair fell over shoulders like woven silver. There was amusement in her voice.
Instead of answering, Aegon held up a finger, indicating her to wait, and walked over to the table near the couch that held a large wine flagon.
Rhaenyra laughed. “So you come here to drink my wine? Is there not enough for you in the taverns of the Silk Street or the cellars of the Red Keep?”
“I take any opportunity I can get.”
“Aegon.” Her voice was sharp. “What do you really want?”
He paused, turned around, sighed deeply.
“To see you.”
Rhaenyra tilted her head as if she were some curious gigantic bird and eyed him. Under the questioning gaze of her lilac eyes, Aegon almost shrunk in on himself and felt excitement at the same time.
She approached him. “Little Aegon”, she mused and judging by the slight slurring of the two words, he realised that the flagon had been there for a reason, and might as well be empty. “A thief in the dragon’s den.”
Aegon straightened up. No, he was a dragon, just like her, and not a vulgar thief. He didn’t care about the crown, not like Ser Otto and Queen Alicent did.
“Do you know what happens to little boys who go about stealing their sister’s treasures?”
“I’m no little boy.”
She registered that with a raise of her eyebrows. “They are devoured.”
She reached out to caress his hair, the curls he kept short, and cupped his face. Aegon almost fell forward in his haste to cross the distance , and crashed his mouth onto hers. Underneath his lips, Rhaenyra gasped as if shocked by his intensity but answered him in her stead, until she pushed him away.
Aegon’s blood was running hot in his veins, pulsed in his ears, and he felt his cock harden. On the night of the bedding, he had laid there, erect like a ship’s mast but not dared to touch himself, his balls aching as they yearned to release his seed, preferably inside of the warm cunt that belonged to the woman next to him.
The look she gave him did not say ‘Leave’ or ‘Don’t you dare lay another hand on me’. He advanced, she fell back until they reached the bed. She sat down, he tried to settle between her legs as she laid on her back, but when he thought he had the upper hand, she wrapped her legs around him, rolled over him and now she was on top of him and he pinned underneath like the beetles in Helaena’s bizarre collections she studied day after day.
The black fabric was too thick to show anything of Rhaenyra’s body underneath so his hands wandered to the hems of her skirts to push them up, but Rhaenyra slapped away his fingers.
“Your breeches, little thief.”
Not looking away from her face, he loosened his garments, the question he did not speak on his face: “And you?” But one such as she did not follow the desire-ladden pleas of thieves.
He gripped his cock and promptly felt her fingers wrapped around himself as well. Aegon groaned and tipped back his head. He heard Rhaenyra scoff and shift above him, fabric rustling. Instead of the feeling of her guiding him to her cunt and taking him, his tip and shaft brushed past the dense curls on her mound. Aegon looked up and moaned when he brushed by the nub that in return made Rhaenyra gasp as well. It wasn’t quite as exhilarating as being inside of a woman but brushing past the nub, the fleshy lips and feeling just that fleeting wetness from between her legs in which she soaked his cock to make him slicker was an interesting sensation as well. The gaps, moans and sounds of pleasure coming from Rhaenyra made it only sweeter.
She was still watching him as well, almost pointedly so, when she, at last, put him to her entrance. Aegon put his hands on her hips and just when she guided him in, he pushed her down on his cock. Her eyes widened, as did his, she filled by his hardness, he sheathed by her hot wetness.
No, this was not like fucking Lyseni whores.
He came too fast, on the fifth stroke of her sliding down him as he met her with a thrust of his hips, and clawed his fingers into the sheets underneath him as he emptied himself in her, but Rhaenyra didn’t stop, ruthlessly chasing her own completion. His cock was already softening and almost slipping out when, after rubbing herself with intent, a small whimper escaped her and she trembled.
She climbed off him after a few moments, something had changed in her face as if she was reconsidered what she just did. Aegon meanwhile had no regrets at all; he had gotten what he had been chasing.
Some thieves do escape the dragon’s den after all.