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Glowing (Of Kites and Lines)

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They were set to leave port three days ago, but the seas had begun so rough, none had dared to attempt it. The delay did not bother Aegon though, be had taken to wandering the streets of Bravos on his own, a luxury he hadn't had since learning of his birth.

Jon had stayed with the Golden Company, planning for their passage across the sea. And neither Lemore nor Duck had put a stop to his escapades.

The narrow, paved streets of Braavos were wet with morning rain, and Aegon ducked and dodged away from traders and fishmongers pushing bulky carts piled with their wares. He whistled cheerily, making his way along the canals to the tavern he had discovered only yesterday.

A quiet but bright place that seemed to always be full of locals and exotic travelers alike. There had been four traders from Westeros yesterday (Oldtown, they'd said), and they had had stories to tell. Aside from them there were a trio of merchants with skin as dark as onyx and wearing enough gold to rival the Golden Company; and individuals from all over the continent, some he recognized by the accents and clothes, others he guessed.

He had sat at the tables and conjured up stories about their origins and where they were headed, enjoying the absurd backgrounds he cooked up for all the peculiar ones, and sat nursing his mug of ale all evening yesterday.

Okay, maybe he hadn't returned only for the patrons. The quiet, nearly invisible tavern wench had caught his eye, and his attention more than a few times, and Aegon hoped she would be there today.

With dark curly hair that barely reached her shoulders, and dark eyes to match, she wasn't really a great beauty, a bit too young and skinny for that, but he had not been able to stop looking at her.

Aegon had been careful not to be caught staring openly, but every time she took a round of the room, refilling the mugs of ale, his eyes had followed her from under his lashes.

The tavern was bustling with people today, and Aegon was lucky to find a spot with good vantage of the establishment. Although he was sorely disappointed when a busty red head came to take his order.

He wolfed down the serving of meatloaf the red head brought along with his ale, and listened to the stories of the dragon queen in Meereen. His aunt, his bride to be, but not yet. For now he was still Griff of Tyrosh, with blue hair and a sellsword army.

"Do you have something for me girl?" A richly dressed Quarthi asked. And Aegon turned to find her.

"Yes, the docks. When the moon comes." She hadn't spoken it out loud, but Aegon was watching her so closely, he could read her lips.

Her eyes turned away from the Quarthi to look directly into his. And Aegon couldn't help but blush at being caught staring so blatantly.

"I'll be there," came the reply, and Aegon felt his gut clench with jealously.

No, she's mine!

"Just so," she replied, her eyes still locked with his.

Gods, she would be the end of him.


The day had darkened, the moon peeking between dark clouds, and Aegon hurried to the docks.

He didn't care if he was being foolish, the wench was obviously toying with him.

He was nearly there when someone grabbed him by the arm and pushed up against the wall of the dark alley with enough force to knock the air out of him.

He could feel the cold sting of a blade against his throat. "You are either very foolish, or up to no good, my lord," her voice hissed at him.

"Both, darling," he said feeling no threat despite the blade against his throat. Maybe he was just really stupid.

The blade pushed against his skin a bit harder, and she bought her face closer, the moonlight glinting off her grey eyes, but she stood nearly a foot lower than him. "I could kill you here, and they would find your body half eaten by fish."

Well it seemed her tastes ran into the macabre.

"You called me here," he said placating.

"No, a man thought he would get what he wanted if her came here."

Well that was true...

"And what is that?"

The blade against his throat relaxed. "I've seen you watch me. I know that look that men have when they think they want something, and all they need to do is to reach out and take it, the world be damned."

"Is that what you think I want?" His eyes bore into hers, searching for something, anything to explain why he was so captivated by the wench.

"You want to fuck me."

"Yes" Despite himself, Aegon couldn't deny the truth.

"It's that what you think? That I'm a whore who sells her body to every blue haired sellsword I come upon."

"That's not-"

The finger she placed on his lips silenced him instantly. "That is what you thought of the Quarthi meeting me here. But it makes no matter what you think of me," she leaned away from him, eyes studying him appreciatively.

"Come" She said finally, the corners of her mouth curving into a secret smile, and his heart jumped in his chest. She took his hand leading him away in to another alley.

Aegon followed her deeper and deeper into the darkened alleys, his heart thumping loudly, he was sure she could hear.

Finally she came to a halt besides an old two story building, ducking inside awning and up the pitch black stairs.

She could be leading him to an elaborate death, Aegon thought and tightened his grip on her hand. She halted inside a dark room, letting go of his hand to light the single candle on the table.

Aegon looked around the suddenly bright room, trying to piece together the woman in front of him, but aside from the thin straw mattress on the bed, the room was bare.

"Who are you?" He asked needing to know.

"Lya," she answered and kissed him, her arms going around his neck. And Aegon kissed her back fervently, she tasted of spiced wine which made his head spin.

His hands fumbled with the laces of her gown, just as hers reached for the hem of his tunic, pulling it off him. Her gown fell to the floor in a soft rush of fabric, and Aegon claimed her lips again.

Lya bit his bottom lip and Aegon gasped, his hands grabbing her ass through the shift she still wore. His tongue found hers, and her fingers feathered over his chest, blunt nails scraping against his nipples. Whatever control he had, he lost it then.

Moaning in her mouth, he pushed her back into the wall, breath knocked out of her, but it didn't slow her down. She kissed his lips and down her way to his jaw and neck, her sharp teeth nipping the skin before her tongue soothed away the sting.

Aegon let a frustrated growl, his fingers knead the flesh of her hips, waiting for her little game to end. But she wasn't done yet.

Lya placed wet open mouth kisses on his chest, flicking his nipples with her tongue before moving lower down his abdomen, her pink tongue leaving a wet trail down to the waist of his breeches.

Making quick work of the laces of his breeches, Lya got on her knees and pulled out his cock, exploring with her fingers and then her tongue. Aegon was too far gone to stop now, so he let her take him in her mouth, guiding her head into place.

He leaned back against the table, knocking the candle down which blew off and rolled away, throwing the room in darkness, save for the scarce moonlight. Lya didn't even seem to notice.

She struggled with taking him completely into her mouth, which only served to inflame him more, so Aegon held the back of her head and set the pace, slowly going deeper into her mouth, instructing her with every sharp intake of breath, every jump of muscle on his stomach.

He could almost believe she had never done this before. The limit to his control finally pushed him to pull back from her deliciously warm mouth with a pop, and she looked up at him in confusion, her dark grey eyes wide and guileless.

This woman would damn him.

"My turn," he grunted in response, picking her up and pulling the shift over her head before laying her on the bed and gods, she was beautiful.

His mouth latched on to one nipple, pinching the other one between hits thumb and forefinger until she whimpered. He sucked and teased it with his tongue, while he pinched and rolled the other, then switched his attention between them.

His eyes watched her, every reaction, every whimper was a reward and damn if she wasn't responsive.

"I could make you come like this, would you like that sweet Lya?"

She chocked back a whimper, "Please," her hips arched, begging for what she couldn't say herself.

"Please, what?"

She cursed, in Braavosi and the Common tongue, but succumbed to her need. Covering her face with her hand she moaned, "Fuck, touch me please!"

And he did, his calloused fingers parting the drenched folds, and sliding up her slit. "Gods you're soaking." He could smell her, a heady scent, that clung to her skin and his fingers.

Lua moaned in need and then nearly arched off the bed when her found her clit, rubbing it in quick circles that brought her to a sudden crest.

She came hard, her eyes screwed shut, rubbing her pussy against his fingers and palm as she rode the waves to the end.

At his limits, Aegon climbed on top of her, positioning himself he found little resistance when he entered her, although she stiffened almost immediately.

Her voice was strained when she begged, "Gods, fuck me already."

Hesitantly Aegon withdrew and thrust into her slowly at first, before increasing his pace. It was finally her low moan that encouraged him to pick up the pace.

He pulled her legs around his hips and pounded her pussy, going deeper with every thrust. He couldn't believe how incredibly snug she was around him, which made it even harder to control himself.

The bed shook with each thrust, protesting with a rhythmic creak, Aegon rolled his hips and smiled smugly when he heard her gasp.

He gathered her in his arms and pounded in her, the smack of flesh loud and obscene in the dark room, but it drove them higher until Lya cried out and bit his shoulder, coming undone around his cock.

The muscles of her pussy nearly drove him off the edge but Aegon had preserved some sense and pulled out before he spilled inside her. And instead squirted his cum on her stomach and breasts.

After, he pulled her in his arms, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his semen on to her skin.

"Who are you?" She mirrored his question.

"Griff of Tyrosh" he answered, kissing the back of her neck before he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke in the morning, she was gone.

And she had left her maidenhead as payment.