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Her mouth is as soft as the richest material of silk, but she kisses him as if it were full of hellfire.
Aegon melts under his touch, under his velvet lips, as the play of light from the fireplace behind them bathes his pale skin. He breathes fast and swallows and moans as she kisses his and rocks on his knee, so wet and slippery with her juices he almost feels the need to lean in and lick until the taste of her burns his mouth with fire and blood. hers.
Her fingers are hard but soft as she touches him all over. Aegon doesn't know where he begins and she ends, but she loves him, she makes him nervous. His little noises feel like heaven would die in her mouth, but his eyes are full of sin. They are the brightest purple, almost liquid when raw lust surges and creates an illusion that almost makes him lose himself in the ocean of calm and affection that is her face. He lets her ride on and off of her as she pleases, taking her jaw hard then brushing her lips with his. He lets her moan and scream out loud, so anyone with ears in that damned fortress can hear her. He praises her and rewards her with sweet threads of caresses in her needy folds as she takes him without complaint from her, despite the pain of inflammation, her desire that, like him, surely tears her apart. of her as she rages. she grows like a bubble that threatens to burst at any moment. And she moans into her shoulder, digging her nails into his back while he waits. Her veins are full of fire, gasoline, adrenaline that explodes and burns his under her skin. She picks up her swollen nipples and drinks from them, soaking up every last drop of milk. He slides her fingers up and down over hers over her swollen belly, which is filled with the child he has proudly placed inside her.
He encourages her as she pursues his release on her knee, her fingers and all of him, undulating her hips as she pushes him into the darkness. He only has eyes for her, proud to see her pursue her own pleasure as her priority. She takes what she wants, twists it between her slender fingers like clay, molds it to her convenience and her whim, for she is the Queen. She is the definition of authority, of affection, of a safe place. She scratches her back, bites her jaw, lips and cheeks. She scratches and grabs and tears it off as she pleases, but he doesn't hurt her, because she is Rhaenyra, because she has promised him that she will never hurt him. And he believes her.
Trust, he follows her like a lost puppy that a God has touched.
She leans in and kisses her clavicle, her nipples, her jaw, and every nook and cranny she reaches. She unloads her orgasm into Aegon's eager mouth, moaning as the climax hits them like never before.
And then... he then wakes up.
He then he wakes up and he's drunk.
She then wakes up and is alone.
She then wakes up and realizes that her side has won the war.
And she is dead. Just like Amond. Just like Helen. They have all been dead for a long time. And probably soon he will too.