Work Text:
“Everyone is going to have to group up for this project,” the dreaded words are spoken by your professor that morning.
No one in the room makes a sound of complaint, as much as you would personally care to, but murmurs spread gently filling the space as he continues speaking about the project and what it entails. This is last project before finals and the professor makes it clear this will count for a large percentage of the grade.
No one seems to notice what he’s saying though, as you already begin planning what topics you could possibly cover, while trying not to dread the thought of your grade being determined by how well someone else does their work with you.
“I’ve already decided who will group up for you so you won’t have to worry about finding people to pair up with,” your professor announces.
And with that statement the room audibly groans. You expect your professor, as renowned and professional he is, to snap back at the room’s reaction, but he brushes it off and tells everyone to be a bit more grateful. He looks down at his daily notes and begins reading off the names of group one. There’s three to a group since there’s 27 people in the class, and when group seven is announced, the room seems to hold its breath.
The name Aegon Targaryen kicks off the group and everyone is awaiting who will follow. You sit on the outer edge of seats, closer to the back than the front, and scan over the faces of your fellow classmates, gauging their reactions. The girls that frequent frat parties are the ones that seem to care what becomes of this group and the girls with half a bit of sense hold their breaths in hopes they don’t end up in the group with him. You are in the latter group, your eyes darting over to the “king” himself.
He slouches carelessly in his seat, his silver hair unkempt and covering his emotionless eyes that haven’t seemed to register what is happening in class. He’s kind of cute, in a rough and careless sort of way. You would find him attractive if he wasn’t apart of the most misogynistic fraternity to ever exist, and maybe if you didn’t believe the rumors of him frequenting frat parties where many a girl had been drugged and assaulted. Not to mention you attended the same high school and know he hasn’t changed a bit since then.
Another name is added to group seven along with Aegon, some guy named Jason that sits towards the front and actually looks like he gives a shit about this class unlike his new group partner. You feel bad for the poor guy, as the sorority girls glare daggers at him.
And then your breathing truly stops as the professor adds your name to group seven. All eyes turn to you now, and you can see looks of jealousy and looks of pity. You meet eyes with your new group mate Jason and the pair of you communicate camaraderie which comforts you at the idea of being with creepy, popular, and incompetent “King” Aegon. You don’t even bother looking his way, just expecting him to still look like he’s sleeping with his eyes open.
Everyone’s stares fade as the professor goes on to announce the names of group eight, but you can still feel a lingering stare. You’re tempted to look over your shoulder and meet the gaze you feel, or at least think you feel, but you ignore the feeling until it goes away.
Then the professor says the name, Aemond Targaryen. It gives you a real reason to peek over your shoulder at the man sitting in the back corner of the class. He’s a couple rows behind and you’re trying to subtly crane your neck to look at him, unlike the rest of the class that looks over at him as if he’s just disrupted class. You look up through your eyelashes at him and his eyes are cast down looking at you before you can properly fix your gaze on him.
You turn away quickly and a lot less subtly, cursing under your breath. You somehow feel bested by him, and your ears flush with heat as the idea frustrates you. You turn around again as the professor finishes announcing the last few names, your pride and irritation fueling a fire.
He isn’t looking at you as you turn around this time, but just as soon as you look does he move to meet your gaze as if he could feel it on the side of his face.
His eyes are nearly reptilian the way they are cold and calculating and pierce into you. The fluorescent lighting catches on his angular features, casting sinister shadows and highlighting the scar that runs over his piercing blue glass eye. He shares your gaze attentively like he’s waiting for you to say something or do something and having this much of his attention sort of makes you want to melt into the floor.
But class goes on and the both of you know if anyone should be paying attention it would be you two, so he lets you win this one, turns his gaze to the front but not without his lips making that smug smile of his.
—-
After class you meet up with your project group consisting of an enthusiastic Jason and a reluctant Aegon who agree to exchange numbers and you can already tell Aegon has no interest in meeting up but the three of you agree to meet up at least twice a week for the next month.
The first two meetings, Aegon blows off leaving you and Jason to mock up the project and divide what tasks each of you will complete individually. You both send your missing counterpart what topics he’s responsible for but are left on delivered for a few days.
After the first week Jason is unreachable due to a medical emergency and therefore unable to attend the rest of the semester of school. You reach out to him privately to make sure he’s okay and your professor approaches you after class to ensure you would be comfortable continuing the project with just you and Aegon. You have half a mind to comment that Aegon has yet to even acknowledge there’s a group project to complete but hold your tongue.
A pair of mismatched eyes with a scar comes to mind, and you know that you can’t let yourself be bested by your academic rival. So you corner Aegon the next time that you have class.
You call his name and ignore the oncoming hail of feminine and envious glares as he lazily turns around to look at you. He looks as if he’s wincing and knows he can’t escape, not with your professor right there.
“Oh. Hey,” he says, dumbly. He tosses his silver hair out of his eyes and you watch the muscles of his arm tense.
You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. God, this guy. “We’re meeting at the library tomorrow. We have a project to complete. And I would really appreciate your help now that we’re one man short.”
“We are?”
God, this guy. “Just be there at 4, okay?”
The words come out harshly and you can see your professor attempt to hide a smile as he packs up his notes. Aegon just agrees with a timid nod and steps away with his head bowed, almost looking like a puppy that’s been put in time out.
You gaze up at the spot at the top of the stairs where Aemond has just finished throwing his full book bag over his shoulder. You feel your face alight with embarrassment that he had witnessed you scolding his older brother, but your eyes are trained on the way his silvery hair cascades down past his shoulders and glows glossy in the harsh lighting.
His mismatched eyes are less cold than usual and they don’t pierce into you. It’s like they’re burning holes into you. His mouth is drawn taught, almost making the shape of a frown if he was someone more expressive and you can see he’s gripping tight at the strap of his bag and his other hand is clenched into a fist.
You figure he’s mad at what he’s witnessing. No one has ever really cared to whip Aegon into shape, you know this as you’ve know the two brothers since High School. Not even their mother cared to discipline Aegon, letting him be nothing more than a joke. And here you were, forcing him to engage in this project just so you could challenge Aemond. His reaction isn’t really a surprise.
The flush in your face fades as you grow a bit more proud at your new discovery. Your face twists into a smug look that could even rival the ones Aemond is keen on giving you and you turn away to exit the room before he can begin his saunter down the steps towards you. You catch the look on his face before you leave and it makes your smile deepen at the thought. Aemond is pissed.
—-
It’s 4:47 and still there is no sign of Aegon. You have half a mind to text him but don’t care to stare back at another message on delivered for the next half hour. Anxiety twists in your gut and chagrin clouds your mind so much its hard for you to focus on the research before you.
You can’t believe after all that show in front of Aemond, you still couldn’t tame Aegon and now you were considering begging your professor to pair you with literally anyone else just so you could manage the work load. This project was hefty and you had other assignments, surely he would understand.
Someone clears their throat across the table from you and your head snaps at attention to the intruder. It’s Aemond, standing tall and imposing as he looks down at you.
His wild looking eyes are cold as usual and you can see his chest inflate as he takes staggered breaths as if he ran here. He grips at the strap of his book bag and looks around the library aimlessly scanning as he waits for you to say something.
“Sorry I’m late. I have a class that gets out at 4:30,” he says as if it explains everything.
There must be an absolutely puzzled look on your face, but he’s still not looking at you, finding a greater interest in the half empty library.
“What?” Is all you can say, unable to restrain the frustration of the situation.
“Where the hell is Aegon?”
He looks at you now and you don’t seem to notice the side glances you get from surrounding strangers because your eyes are always drawn to his, mismatched and intense.
“He didn’t text you? I asked him to text you. I don’t have your number. Forgive me,” he says not sounding apologetic at all.
“No he didn’t text me. I’m starting to think his phone doesn’t even work because my messages are always left on delivered,” you say still unable to control your irritation.
And apparently you’re unable to control your volume as you hear a shush from one of the surrounding tables. Aemond looks at you and smirks in amusement, as he typically does when he knows something you don’t or he catches you staring or pretty much whenever he looks at you.
“Since you can’t be quiet, let’s go to a study room.”
He helps you pack up your notes and take them to a private study room, opening the sliding plexiglass door for you, ever the gentleman. And once you’ve rearranged your notes for the project, he launches into his story of how Aegon asked him to switch groups and the two met with the professor this morning to make the change official and your darling professor had consented to it.
A wave of relief washes over you at the idea you won’t have to work on this project alone but you’re gripped with irritation that you have to work with Aemond, who seems as though he doesn’t want to be here. You know very well how Aegon gets what he wants and it’s always been Aemond’s responsibility and burden to make sure that happens where he’s concerned.
But not only that, now you can’t have at your academic competition with him. “You just hate the idea of being pit against me don’t you?” You tease.
After a long silence that you assume was just Aemond ignoring you, you look up and see his intense gaze across the table from you. He looks deadly serious as if what you said was hardly a joke to him and you feel frozen by that icy blue eye of his.
“Something like that,” he says simply, in a low voice.
You have to force your eyes away from him and begin looking over the layout of work that you and Jason had planned together. Aemond seems pleased with what you’ve shown him and you feel a little proud of yourself. The two of you consider sources for the research needed, already having authors in mind, you both compile a list of books to grab.
As you’re taking notes and constructing a timeline of what work should be done by when, you catch him staring at you again.
“What?” You say harshly and it echoes in the minuscule study room. Suddenly you’re grateful that he dragged you here.
“Nothing. I’m impressed by how much you managed to get done by yourself in the last week. Not surprised just impressed.”
You’re taken aback by the compliment. The two of you had considered each other academic rivals since high school. Admittedly it had recently become more of a friendly thing now that the two of you were in college and there were plenty of other people to match your wits, but you had always found Targaryens to be strange. Their mother was pompous and ready to defend their every wrong-doing. And Aegon was full of wrong-doings, with his underage drinking in High School and his constant misdemeanors in college not to mention his many accusations of misconduct with women.
You and Aemond had skipped a few grades in middle school, placing you in class with Aegon and you had been witness to their whole family dynamic. Their little sister Helaena seemed strange as well but more of a smart quiet strange, though you hadn’t interacted with her very much at all.
And Aemond was the Targaryen you had seen the most of. He appeared pompous and prideful, and for the most part he was, but a lot of him that you had seen could be playful. He loved to tease and torment. He was smart and he knew he was smart. Although you didn’t really like him at first, your competition with him had become sort of fun.
He had been playful before, sure maybe even borderline friendly. But a compliment. A compliment was certainly new territory.
You could feel your ears heat at the sudden attention. “Well, the first week I wasn’t actually alone. Jason helped a lot with the planning.”
You avert your gaze from him and scribble onto the list of source material for the project.
“Hm.”
You ignore the sound but it’s familiar, a sort of tick he had when he was pondering something.
“You should give yourself more credit,” he mutters.
You don’t bother to look at him but you can feel the flush in your ears. You shrug. “It’s the truth. I didn’t do it completely alone.”
You brush him off and you’re looking at him in your peripheral vision but you can see him tense. His hands rest atop his notes and you watch him clench his fist, the hand holding his pen wraps around it tightly.
Oh god.
You can’t take your eyes away from his hands, pale and strong with slender fingers. His veins run blue along the top as he clenches at his pen and his knuckles blush pink. It takes all your strength to stop staring and hope that he isn’t smirking at you like he usually does when he catches you staring.
But that smug look is nowhere to be found as you can see how his jaw is tensed and he’s looking down at you with that intense look, the one that has his grey and ice blue eye searing into you. He looks pissed like when he caught you scolding Aegon and it makes your knees feel like jelly and you’re grateful to be sitting.
Before you can ask what his problem is, he grabs firmly at your wrist with one of those strong hands you were just admiring. “If you’re done with your little list, let’s go.”
He nearly tosses you out of your seat and you would never admit it but you’re a little disappointed when he lets go of your wrist as he exits the study room. You can feel the warmth lingering on your skin as you follow behind him as he saunters off with that purposeful stride of his.
You always thought it was kind of goofy but as you struggle to keep up with him, you realize something has changed. There’s something different about him.
He stops in an aisle and you stop abruptly behind him, trying to stitch together your thoughts. The early evening light is fading as the winter sun begins to set and the library is dimly lit making his long silvery hair glow a warm yellow. It falls so perfectly, and you fight the urge to run your fingers through it, to undo the tie that keeps it half up as always.
Or you’d love to see his hair up, an extremely rare occurrence that you’d only seen once during the AP Calculus BC test senior year of High School. You thought maybe he had done it on purpose to throw you off since he had had a silent rage of you getting a 5 on Calc. AB the previous year where he had only gotten a 4. You’d never admit it but you always thought it was part of the reason you had gotten a 4 on the exam. It haunted you.
And now you were trying to remember how he looked then, his hair thrown up carelessly with soft strands falling around his sharp features. You had been so distracted by those slender fingers brushing the strands behind his ear, accentuating his jawline. You never understood how Aegon was the “handsome” one.
You’re brought back to the man in front of you as his back tenses, as if he can feel your eyes on his back. He turns around, a book in hand and nearly tosses it at you. He snatches the list you’ve made from your hand and saunters off walking as if he owns the library.
You walk fast, trying to keep up again and grow irritated at his sudden behavior. He stops suddenly, his attention set on retrieving the sources from your list, and you nearly slam into his back but catch yourself.
“What is your problem?” You ask, sternly.
He turns around swiftly, strong steps leading you until you’re pressed up against the shelf behind you. You feel trapped, his fierce gaze locking your eyes to his. He reaches to the shelf behind you, caging you in and his other hand is lacing itself in your hair.
A breath escapes you, a sigh as he grips at your hair, tilting your head back so there is no where else you could look. He keeps his distance enough that your faces aren’t really close to touching but you can feel the heat of his body and his breath hits your lips as he hisses out.
“Be. Quiet.”
Maybe it’s the way he’s closer than he’s ever been before or the grip on your hair, but it feels hard to breathe. You like it so much you don’t have any energy to be embarrassed by it. But usually when he’s this serious, those eyes of his are always wide open in that attentive stare he has. But his eyes are heavy lidded and you’re starting to think maybe he does want to be here, that maybe Aegon wasn’t the one who wanted to switch partners.
“You didn’t answer my question,” you whisper, and you wonder if your breath hits his lips the way his did your’s.
And it must have because you can see his gaze lay heavy on your lips. He tightens the grasp on your hair and the sigh that escapes you this time sounds more like a whimper.
He rests his forearm against the bookshelf and his cheek is against yours, chest almost flush with you. His breath ghosts your ear and his voice comes from his chest like a growl as he speaks.
He huffs a laugh and the sound is so sweet it tastes like honey in your mouth. “You know, you can be such a brat.”
He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his hand relax getting tangled in the strands and his forehead rests on your shoulder.
His silver hair is so close you can smell his shampoo, earthy and herbal like eucalyptus and cedar. You wonder if he’s taking in your scent the way you are.
And then you don’t have to wonder as his sharp nose brushes against your neck, and you can feel a deep, warm breath against it. He nuzzles into you and the hand that isn’t clutching to the book you’re holding like a life-line, grabs at his sweater to try to steady yourself.
“It seems like you like it,” you say but your voice sounds foreign and breathy.
His fist on the slams on the bookshelf behind you and the other hand grips your hair tight again. His lips slot against your neck but he’s not applying any pressure and you grip tighter at his sweater, whimpering at his sudden aggression.
“But I can’t have you talking to Aegon like that,” he agrees and you can feel his lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks.
“I can’t share you with anyone,” he continues and his lips move to the base of your neck where it meets your clothed collar bone.
“It makes me fucking sick to think other men can even look at you.”
He bites the spot to emphasize his words and you whimper at the white hot pain that shoots through you and the pleasure that pulses in you. He kisses the spot to soothe it but he’s lost his restraint and is leaving searing hot, wet kisses along your neck now.
You tremble at every touch of his lips on your skin and he groans in response. He likes the sounds you make and it’s making it hard to be quiet.
“If it makes you so sick, why are you trying to make the whole library hear us,” you whisper, your voice still breathy and almost hoarse.
He pulls away from your neck so quickly, you whine quietly at the loss of contact, but his hand in your hair makes itself known. He pulls himself off the bookshelf.
“Be a good girl and keep quiet so I can do what I want with you.”
His words alight a heat in the pit of your stomach and you shake in anticipation of what it is exactly he wants to do with you.
He releases his grip and he’s sinking to his knees, his hands hastily run under your shirt and his slender fingers dig into the flesh of your belly and drag down. You’re biting your lip to keep your sounds at bay but the look of lustful worship on Aemond’s face makes you want to squeal.
He’s enjoying the flesh of your hips then his thumbs hook onto the waistband of your bottoms to pull them down and he’s fully on his knees now. Your underwear comes down as he’s nearly clawing them down.
Your cunt is exposed and on display for him and the rest of your body feels so much hotter than the exposed wetness that grows cold between your legs. His eyelids are heavy and the pure adoration in his eyes burns. He bites his lip impatiently. He looks like he could come just from looking at it and you feel like your whole body is flush with embarrassment.
He wastes no time putting his mouth on you and kisses the heat between your legs and you’re arching into him, reaching for more contact. He licks at your lips frantically like he’s trying to taste as much of you as possible and you’ve never felt so wanted.
He licks with purpose and finds your clit as soon as he’s had his fill of enjoying your taste and you’re gripping the bookshelf, restraining yourself from grinding onto his mouth. But as if he can tell you’re holding back, he starts licking slowly, languidly at your clit as if to tease it.
The book in your hand falls, luckily landing quietly on the carpeted floor and your newly freed hand tangles in his silky, silver hair. He rewards you with more eager licks to your clit as your hips move in slow circular motions.
Your moans and whines die in your throat before they can be heard, coming out as heavy breaths. Aemond is far more vocal, shamelessly groaning and whimpering with his lips on your cunt muffling the sound.
His hands clasp and dig into the meat of your thighs as he tries to press you so close to him that he’s drowning in your cunt. You can’t restrain yourself from grinding down on his face and a sound of approval vibrates against your folds. His tongue laves over your hole to tease it before he begins fucking you with it.
You’re gripping so tight at his hair that you’re sure it’s a mess but he doesn’t care as he lets you fuck his mouth. You’re grinding on him so sloppily that his nose bumps against your clit and soon you’re riding that too. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from screaming, it feels so good.
You can feel yourself slipping as something in the bottom of your stomach tightens. His hands are grabbing at your ass, lifting you up and down on his tongue and every time his nose hits your clit, you’re seeing stars. Your legs clamp together in spite of yourself and you try to stop yourself but Aemond whimpers when he feels you tighten around him.
The sound makes your core flutter around his tongue and you’re coming. Aemond whines and groans on you, spurring you on as your hands tense and nearly pull his hair. Your hips grind down sloppy and more lazily as you ride out your orgasm and his humming on your pussy is making you feel overstimulated.
Aemond uses all of his strength to pull his mouth off of you and with out him steadying you at your core, you feel like he’s sucked the bones out of your legs. You look down at him, with your hands tangled in his hair, his face covered in your slick and he’s returning your bottoms to clothe you again.
Your hands fall from his hair as he stands and his mouth is on yours. You can taste yourself and feel the wetness on his face and smell your musk and you’re a little annoyed. Your gripping at his sweater, pulling him closer and he loses his balance making him grip at your waist and catching himself on the bookshelf.
Your hands are tangled in his hair again, his beautiful fucking hair, and kissing him with so much fervor. He’s returning the fervor like he can’t devour more of you even if he tried and the kiss is all tongue and teeth and you’re trying to lick away your taste until it’s just him.
He pulls away for just an agonizing moment to suck as much air as his lungs can fit until his mouth is on yours again. He lets you lead, sucking at his lips and you’re putting his tongue so deep in his mouth he moans into yours. Your tongue tangles with his, making lazy strokes against each other and you can finally taste him under the sour taste of you that lingers.
You halt for a moment and this time when he goes to take a breath, he can’t pull his mouth away from you and he’s panting onto your lips like you’re sucking the air out his lungs.
“Fuuuuuck,” he whines, breathlessly and his lips still connected to yours.
You feel overwhelmed and also under stimulated at the same time. You give him another opened mouth kiss to reward him, your tongue teasing his with a slow lick.
Finally he pulls away, your grip in his hair slips away as he takes a step back. You’re both panting and the library is so quiet that you feel like your breathing is so loud.
He bends down, still making eye contact, to retrieve the book and places it into your hands. He reaches behind you to retrieve the book list you wrote out from the bookshelf behind you and you can still smell yourself on his face.
He puts the book in your hand, smooths over his hair, and ambles away leaving you absolutely speechless.