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There was hardly anything good about coming to Summerhall.
The food was mediocre, the air was hot, and his cousins were loud. Valarr could have gone on with all the bothersome things, but he knew it did not do well to dwell on such negatives. He’d tried, since arriving two days prior, to think of something positive.
He’d come up with three things, thus far.
One, the air smelled cleaner here than in King’s Landing.
Two, he had rare moments of free time to himself to train in the yard, despite the fact the master-at-arms here was lackluster.
And finally, number three
Daeron.
It was not impossible to guess Valarr’s favorite cousin.
There were only two close in age, and one was Aerion. It would be difficult to ever assume, after watching him interact with the cruel boy, that Aerion could ever be Valarr’s favorite. It fell, default, to Daeron then.
That, of course, was not to say that Daeron was without his merits. There were a few good things about him.
He wasn’t as cruel as Aerion, that was for certain. In a place away from his home, away from the little lordlings he called his friends, that was a positive for Valarr. Daeron was also beautiful and smelled very nice, when he was not covered in wine or filth. He smelled nice the first day they arrived, pretty golden hair pulled back in a tie, but not lately.
Another good thing about Daeron was, he was fun.
Valarr knew his cousin was nothing but a drunk, but it did not vex him. He didn’t particularly care. Daeron was his uncle’s worry, and with Aerion about — none could look at the eldest and assume him the greatest disappointment simply because he was often deep in his cups. One look at Aerion, despite his prowess with a blade, and they’d know the true failure.
Or, at least, that was how Valarr felt.
Daeron was a drunk, but fun.
They’d drank together, the last two evenings, until Valarr’s head felt fuzzy and he retired to sleep.
While he knew Daeron would stay awake, singing a song into his wine cup until he passed out into the puddle, it didn’t take away from his own enjoyment. He liked to drink with Daeron. Daeron told him interesting stories, and engaged when Valarr shared his own. They spoke of trips they made with their fathers, follies their brothers displayed, men and women they’d met and tales they’d heard.
Tonight was meant to be no different, or so Valarr had assumed before his father told him to retire early as they’d make for the woods beyond Summerhall on the morrow. There were plans to go hunting, and Valarr had not been informed until just then.
He was a bit bitter, if he was honest, to not be involved till late with such plans. Had they been at home and gone into the Kingswood, his father would have told him with plenty of time, of their hunt. But instead, Baelor had shared the planning with his brother, Maekar.
It tiffed Valarr, a bit.
His father’s attention was only ever so diverted when Maekar was about.
Valarr would, however, listen to what he was told. He had every plan to retire early, rest made riding easier, but he still thought to call upon his cousin. While Valarr was no fool to think Daeron might be expecting him, he still had courtesy to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to drink with him this evening.
Though, if he was honest, he wondered if Daeron even truly knew he was there half the time.
There was a guard on the hall leading to Daeron’s chamber, but none at his door. Valarr walked past the man without care, and when he got to the solid door he knocked lightly. There was a splash of something, probably wine, hitting the floor but no answer.
“Cousin?” Valarr called, listening intently.
A little groan, but one of pain and not pleasure.
Daeron was alone then. Valarr had made the mistake, once, of walking in on Daeron with another. His face had been pressed into the breast of a beautiful woman, her skirts up around his waist, and Valarr had ran out so quickly he doubted they’d caught the face of their intruder. His stomach had burned in a way he hated to understand when he thought of it.
He knocked again, instead of thinking of it.
“Daeron?” Valarr used his name, wondering if it would help.
“Valarr?” Daeron’s muffled voice came back.
“Are you alright?” Valarr could not help but ask. Courtesy and kindness, and a bit of care, for his cousin bid him to follow through on whatever that painful sound was.
“No,” Daeron laughed. “Come here, let me ask a boon of you, sweet cousin.”
Valarr had little idea what that meant, but it gave him entry to the room.
He turned the knob and stepped inside, surprised by how humid the room was. The surprise died when he saw the large wooden tub that’d been brought in, sitting near the fire with Daeron sat inside. He was alone, as Valarr had suspected, and properly damp.
The brunet shut the door quickly, tilting his head to the side. He was not so affronted as to be offended to see his nude cousin. He was, however, a bit interested in the sight of his bare chest and deep collarbones. He saw little more with how the edge of the tub blocked the sight, and did not approach to peer deeper.
“What do you need?” Valarr asked, clearing his throat. “If you’d said you were in the bath, I’d have come back later.”
“And leave me to suffer in such agony?” Daeron frowned, settling back against the tub, tipping his head back against it as well.
The angle accented the long length of his neck. Daeron hadn’t shaved today, as he rarely did, Valarr had learned. There was no beard, but his pale blond stubble was growing dark down his neck.
When Daeron swallowed, Valarr watched his throat bob. His neck was beautiful. Valarr, perhaps, was a bit interested in that as well. He knew he shouldn’t be, but it was no harm to admit it in his head. A harm would come if he said it aloud. But he’d never.
“You are bathing.” Valarr shifted on his feet. “That is hardly agony.”
“Do you often take baths sober?” Daeron wondered, opening on lavender eye to look at Valarr.
“What?” Valarr laughed, clearing his throat. “Darling cousin, most do.”
“Most are fools then,” Daeron decided. “A boon, if you’d please. A favor. Do me a favor?”
“I have a feeling I know of this favor you so plead for,” the brunet was grinning a bit, despite himself. “But I’d have you speak plainly so I know without question.”
“Go and fetch us a flagon of wine.” Daeron was fluttering his long lashes at him, a slow smile spreading across his face to match Valarr’s. “Please, sweet cousin. We may share it, and my bath, if you need that incentive.”
“That tub hardly looks big enough to fit both of us comfortably.”
“It would be comfortable if you sat in my lap,” Daeron smiled, his eyes crinkling.
“I doubt my comfort if I sat in your lap.”
“Fine,” the blond waved his hand. “Then I in yours. It matters little to me, I’ve done it both ways. But the wine. Please, Valarr, take pity on me.”
“I am shocked you do not already have a cup in hand.”
Valarr could not help but take a step closer. With how Daeron sat now, against the edge, he could see the rise of his chest over the murky water. His nipples were flushed, red, and peaked. Valarr swallowed a bit thick at the sight.
It interested him.
“Did you know there’s a hunt on the morrow?” Daeron’s head lolled to look at him. Valarr nodded, so the blond continued to speak. “I am expected to join, and Father insists I will fall from my horse if I am hungover for such grand adventures.”
“You have done it before,” Valarr said. He’d seen it. Daeron had been properly soaked through, with wine and not bathwater, and fallen into the mud on a ride the pair took into town. He’d thought him hurt, until he realized going limp apparently saved you from broken bones. “I do not disagree with Maekar.”
“But he has forbidden me even a glass this evening,” Daeron was whining now. He shifted to sink deeper into the water, his knees coming up. Valarr could see the tops of his shins, and the dark blond hair that coated his legs. He looked, far too interested, at the way his skin shone in the light of the fireplace just beyond the tub.
“If he has forbidden it, I won’t bring you a drink, Daeron.” Valarr remembered to speak, and not try to see whatever laid deeper in the water. The bathwater must be mixed with some herbs or milk, as it was murky and clouded. It smelled nice in the room, despite the humidity.
Not as nice as Daeron would smell, once he left the tub, but Valarr would not be here for that. He was going to leave soon.
“I came to tell you I could not drink with you this evening, actually,” Valarr continued. “I did not wish to leave you waiting. I will be joining the hunt as well.”
“That’s one lovely thing, at least,” his cousin sighed, his chest rising and falling in a way that drew Valarr’s eyes back to it. “The company of one as sweet as you.”
“Your kind words will not sway me. I won’t bring you wine.”
“Would you blame a starving man for begging a bite of cheese?”
Valarr laughed, and took a few steps closer. He was hardly an arms length from the tub now.
“You are not starving. You will be without your drink for a night, though I have no doubt once we arrive for our hunt you will take post in a tent with a wineskin and a song.” Valarr could see the droplets of water on Daeron’s body easier now. He watched as they fell, tracing the path on Daeron’s skin.
“You know me so well, sweet cousin.” Daeron smiled.
He did look tired, and for a moment Valarr felt a bit of pity.
There were purple bags beneath his eyes, and that mixed with the stubble on his jaw gave him a rather disheveled look. His wet hair fell sticking to his face. Valarr wanted to move a strand away from his mouth, but wondered if he’d be able to stop himself from touching Daeron’s plump bottom lip.
Perhaps not. So, he did not move.
“There’s no one here to bathe you,” Valarr noted, despite the fact they’d been alone the entire time. “Do you often take baths alone?”
“Ran her off.” Daeron’s eyes closed again. Valarr could count his lashes. “I might have had a few cruel words for her that I won’t share with you, when she too denied me wine and a kiss.”
“A kiss?” Valarr’s eyebrows shot up. “You did not ask a poor serving girl to kiss you.”
“I asked,” his cousin admitted. “I did not demand. It is not wrong to ask.”
“It is a bit wrong to ask.”
“May I have no vice on this evening?” Daeron scrubbed his face with his wet hands, from frustration and not to clean. When he did, the water moved, and Valarr caught sight of pale thigh, as it splashed over the edge. “I am a man condemned.”
“You are not condemned.” Valarr rolled his eyes now. His cousin was fun, but when he griped like this, Valarr had no want to be here for it. “You must get rest before the hunt, and the quicker you do so, the quicker wine will wet your tongue once more. I’ll call for a serving girl as I leave.”
“Call for one that will kiss me.”
“Daeron,” Valarr said, a bit bothered now. It brought back the burn to his stomach, the more Daeron demanded a woman to kiss. His guts twisted with odd feeling. “I’ll ask you not to speak more on it. It’s not becoming of a Targaryen.”
“I thought you read our family history. I am very in line with it.”
“Only those who are dishonorable.”
“Aerion was right,” Daeron scrunched his nose. “I told him he wasn’t but he is. You really can be no fun at all, cousin.”
Valarr flushed with embarrassment. Not only from Daeron calling him out on not being fun, but for him admitting Aerion was right about something. As far as Valarr was concerned, Aerion was never right. He was a sot.
“Goodnight, Daeron.”
The brunet turned to leave, not in the mood to listen to Daeron’s cruel japes when he did not get his way. There was a huff from Daeron, but Valarr ignored it. He ignored it until the sudden sound of water and wet feet followed him, and Daeron gripped his wrist.
Daeron gripped his wrist. He left the bath, to grab Valarr. He was nude. Valarr had not turned, but he knew he was nude. He stared, bore holes really, into the door he’d tried to escape from and wished he’d walked quicker. If he turned to look, he’d see something so interesting he’d want to touch.
He could not touch.
These thoughts, this intrigue, was for his mind only. And yet, behind him, stood Daeron. Most likely as bare as the night he was brought into the world, wet, and touching him.
“I am sorry,” Daeron said, his wet hand flexing on Valarr’s wrist. “Don’t run off on me, please? I do enjoy our conversation.”
“I thought I was not fun,” Valarr bit out. It was easy to express anger, as it was something to focus on beside the heat radiating off Daeron.
His skin was probably pink, if Valarr dared to look. Flush from the bath, and hot from it as well. He was most likely wet everywhere, pink, and warm. Valarr’s hand twitched in Daeron’s grasp.
“Does it bother you so greatly that you’d run from me, that I think you anything but enjoyable?” Daeron’s voice was close. It was close because he was standing, nude, right behind him.
Valarr was glad to be facing away, there was no way his short tunic hid how interesting he thought this to be from anyone who’d look at him.
“Yes,” Valarr answered, honestly, before remembering himself. “I — no. I do not care if you do not think I am fun. Let me go, my father bid me to retire early.”
“You do always do as uncle asks,” Daeron murmured. His hand released slightly, his fingertips tracing over the soft skin inside Valarr’s wrist. The Young Prince shuddered, unable to hide it. “What is a few more moments with me?”
“Dangerous,” Valarr ground out.
“Dangerous is a very fun word to use, Valarr.”
“I do not wish to earn my fathers ire. I am not so quick to crave it, like you and your lot.”
“I do not believe that is why you think staying with me is dangerous,” Daeron whispered. His face was even closer now, the air from his mouth brushing the shell of Valarr’s ear. He shuddered again, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Good night —”
Valarr could not get the words out, before Daeron took both arms in his and turned him. Heat was heavy in Valarr’s face when he was now facing Daeron, for Daeron immediately looked down upon his shame. Valarr knew he was hard. He knew his cock was aching, from touch and imagination. It was shameful, for his cousin to look upon his secret desire.
It was more shameful for Valarr to look upon him so clearly.
Daeron was pink.
He was flushed from the hot bath, as Valarr had suspected. His chest was smooth, his nipples hard. There was a thinness to his frame that gave proof to his detestation of exercise, but Valarr’s eyes drank him in hungrily regardless. They moved down his prominent hipbones, and focused on the cock that hung between his legs.
It was a health size, and a healthy color. The dark blond hair, wet and twirled from being submerged not moments before, fell from belly button to the base of it. The most interesting thing, to Valarr, was the fact it was not entirely soft.
Daeron’s cock had a touch of life to it. It twitched under Valarr’s eyes, and Valarr felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t know if Daeron was partially hard from the serving girl, or him. He hoped, despite himself, that it was him.
“Valarr,” Daeron gasped, a seedy grin spreading on his face. Their eyes met a moment, Valarr looking up into his. “Sweet cousin. Is that for me?”
“No,” Valarr said, quickly.
“I see no one else.”
“You know not where I was before I arrived.”
Daeron laughed at him, and tried to step closer. For each step he took, Valarr took one backwards. It seemed a game to his blond cousin, until Valarr was pressed against the door he’d tried to escape through. Daeron pressed his hands on either side of the Young Prince, and Valarr thought that he could probably hear his heart hammering against the wood.
“I do not want to kiss you,” Valarr said, without prompting.
Daeron smiled wider, his cheeks flushed.
“I didn’t ask,” his cousin reminded him.
“You asked the serving girl,” Valarr said, though his voice was tight. “I was worried you’d ask me.”
“Do you want me to ask you?” Daeron leaned in slightly, and Valarr flinched back. He felt how hard his own cock was in his smallclothes, and touched the doorknob as if it would save him.
“No,” Valarr said, his voice entirely unconvincing.
Daeron’s lavender eyes watched him a moment. His smile was still wide, and when he leaned in this time there was contact. But it was not his lips upon his, instead they landed on Valarr’s cheek. The prick of his stubble made Valarr whimper slightly, as his cousin softly kissed his cheek.
This was fine — this was normal. Men kissed one another like this in kindness often. His father kissed Maekar like this.
“Perhaps,” Daeron’s dry kisses made their way to Valarr’s ear. He pressed a soft peck there as well, and Valarr held the doorknob tighter. “You don’t want me to ask you. You want to ask me instead.”
“What?” Valarr whispered, as if it was a secret.
“You want to ask me to kiss you.”
“I do not,” Valarr denied.
He leaned towards his cousins mouth, as Daeron took it a step further. His hands had came to Valarr’s waist now, holding, and his tongue found the shell of his ear. Valarr groaned at the way Daeron licked around it, nibbling the lobe between his teeth.
“Daeron,” Valarr gasped.
“Ask me,” Daeron pleaded.
“No —” Valarr’s hips bucked when Daeron broke any semblance of normalcy and palmed Valarr’s cock through his leggings.
“Ask me,” Daeron pleaded again, his lips to Valarr’s ear.
“Daeron —” Valarr rocked with his touch. His cousin continued to palm him, firm but gentle, until Valarr realized there was no point in pretending. He was hard, possibly leaking, and moaning at the blond’s touch.
He did no favors by denying any longer his want.
“Kiss me,” Valarr asked, and Daeron’s mouth was upon his before the words properly left.
His cousin was far more experience at kissing than he was. His mouth worked Valarr’s open, a breathy noise leaving Daeron when their tongues met. Valarr’s hands came up now to grip across the wet hips of the blond, moaning pathetically at the way Daeron felt against his mouth.
Daeron pulled away far too quickly for Valarr’s liking, when he was the one who begged to be asked in the start. But it was not so terrible, when he fell to his knees before Valarr. As Daeron was so much taller than him, Valarr hardly ever had a reason for his cousin to look up at him.
The blond pushed up the ends of Valarr’s short tunic and began to undo the lacing of his leggings and smallclothes, looking at Valarr through his lashes. Valarr thought, mildly, that he liked that.
He liked Daeron looking up at him like this.
“May I?” Daeron asked, with all the cheek of the conversation prior. Valarr had no idea what he was asking, and blinked like a fool down at him. Daeron laughed, wickedly, and continued his work while he asked again. “May I take your cock to my mouth instead of your lips, sweet cousin?”
Valarr’s head took a moment to understand what Daeron had asked him. Not for lack of knowledge, he knew whores and wives did such things, but from the way the arousal that rocked him blinded him for a moment.
His hand came for Daeron’s hair, and he tugged the wet mop lightly when Daeron finally began to bare the brunet to the humid air.
“No,” Valarr licked his lips. He tasted Daeron there. It tasted like Daeron smelt, when he was clean, wonderful. “I don’t want you to ask me.”
Daeron’s mouth twitched into a large grin. Valarr knew he understood.
“You want to ask me,” Daeron said, mischief and glee in his face. Valarr nodded, once with a jerky motion, then again with a more sure gesture. “Ask me.”
“Daeron,” Valarr’s other hand, the one not nestled in his wet hair, came to hold his cousins face. Daeron leaned fully into it, turning his head to take Valarr’s thumb into his mouth. He nipped at the pad of his finger, suckling it between his red lips.
“Yes?” Daeron slurred, around his thumb.
“Will you take my cock into your mouth?” Valarr asked, his heart hammering. He’d never said those words aloud, not like that. It was filthy and made his cock twitch as if it was called.
Daeron moaned, and suckled his thumb deeper. Valarr moved the digit, feeling his tongue with some type of carnal pleasure. He was almost content to do just this, to feel Daeron’s mouth with his finger and listen to his raspy breaths. Thankfully, Daeron remembered why he was on his knees.
His hands yanked the loosened leggings and smallclothes down Valarr’s thighs, to rest at his boots. Valarr released his face, but not his hair, when his cock was fully bared. He had no idea if Daeron would simply go straight into it, as no one had ever done this to him before, but he did not expect a breathy laugh from his cousin.
“What?” Valarr’s face burned when he heard it.
“Your cock,” Daeron said, and all upset vanished from the brunet at the hungry look Daeron was giving him. “Fuck, if I’d known this was the size of you, I’d have taken you nights ago.”
“What?” Valarr’s voice was weaker, and stupid. He felt stupid as Daeron gazed at his cock, not unlike the way he gazed at a wine cup.
Daeron said nothing else, the gods be praised. Instead, he touched Valarr. Valarr was so certain he’d spend at the touch, light as it was, at his cousins hands around the base of his cock. He whimpered, and rocked slightly.
“You’re so sweet,” Daeron whispered. He leaned in and flattened his tongue against the leaking head of Valarr’s cock. “Aren’t you? Have you ever done this before, sweet cousin?”
“No,” Valarr ground out. He was going to burst.
“How wonderful,” the blond said, as if it really was.
He took the tip of Valarr between his lips, and Valarr was enchanted to see the slight stretch at so little on his mouth. He felt Daeron’s tongue teasing the slit, causing him to hiss and hold his hair tighter. If he spent like this, as soon as his cousin had taken him to mouth, would Daeron not laugh? Would he not mock him for being some green boy, when Daeron was far more experience than he was?
“Oh, sweet cousin,” Daeron breathed against him, releasing his length from his mouth.
He instead leaned in and nuzzled Valarr’s cock with his cheek, sighing happily as if it was the best thing he’d done today. The scrape of his stubble against his sensitive skin made Valarr’s vision blur for a moment. He looked down and saw a small line of seed against Daeron’s cheek.
“I —” Valarr gasped, unsure if he’d spent or not. His cock was hard, leaking, so perhaps not. “Fuck.”
“You’re delightful,” Daeron whimpered.
He wiped the seed from his cheek, pushing it into his mouth. Valarr’s eyes went wide at the white on his red tongue, before Daeron swallowed it down with a filthy smile up at the brunet.
“Suck me,” Valarr demanded, suddenly finding his voice again. Daeron nodded, mouth twitching with that same smile, before he did as he was commanded, as he was asked.
The Young Prince prayed his knees would not give out.
Daeron took him into his mouth, just as before, but did not stop at the tip this time.
He sunk deeper on him, one hand holding Valarr’s hip against the door and the other loosely wrapped around the base of his cock. Valarr could see his long, pale, fingers tucked against the brunet hair there. It was so arousing, but it was nothing compared to the warm, wet, heat of his cousin taking him into his mouth.
Valarr groaned, hissing through his teeth, as his hand held tighter onto Daeron’s hair. He thought Daeron might stop, as he took him deeper, but he did not. He went further and further, the sight of his aching cock disappearing between his red lips made Valarr’s hips want to jerk forward. His cousins mouth was stretched so deliciously, wide and open.
Daeron’s eyes were closed, and when he was almost to the base, he finally stopped. He hummed in his throat, an action that made Valarr choke with the force it took to not spend down it. Daeron pulled back, leaving a wet cock in his wake, before pulling off completely.
The hand that had been loosely wrapped around him stroked him down, using the saliva left as a lubricant to ease his grip.
“Fuck,” Daeron said, licking his lips. “I did not expect to have difficulty taking you to the base.”
“Did I hurt you?” Valarr asked, surprised.
“No, sweet cousin,” Daeron swallowed and gave his cock a squeeze. “No. Let me do as I was told, and do not worry. I am simply in wonder of your cock.”
“Thank you,” Valarr said, because he knew his manners and had no idea what else to say.
Daeron laughed, and when he looked up at him he looked so fond that Valarr was surprised. It was lustful, yes, but fond. He almost wanted to ask Daeron to come back up and kiss him again, but the blond followed in his words and took him back between his lips.
The hand not holding Valarr to the door came down to cup his stones, rolling his sac in his palm as he sunk back down on him. They drew a tight grip, and Valarr was thankful as it helped him from spending when the beautiful sight of his cousin swallowing his cock was returned.
Daeron took him deeper this time.
This time, the dark brown hair at the base of his cock tickled his cousins nose. There was a moan from the blond, perhaps of satisfaction, and Valarr felt his hips buck again despite the hand. Daeron might have laughed had his mouth not been full, but he must have understood that Valarr wished him to move.
He let go of Valarr’s hip, and his sac, to settle his own hands between his thighs. Valarr gripped Daeron’s hair tighter with one hand, the other bracing himself, as Daeron began to move. He pulled back, as he had before, but his mouth did not leave him this time. Instead, he followed back down in a smooth stroke.
The wet feeling of his tongue, the light catch of his teeth, the suction Daeron gave when he came to the tip — it was more than Valarr thought it could be. Valarr moaned as his head fell back against the door with a thunk. He did not think to be quiet as not to alert the guards. Daeron continued to bob over his cock, as Valarr’s voice grew in volume.
He gasped when Daeron paused, at the base, swallowing around him with a tightness that made Valarr’s toes curl in his boots. He gripped his cousins hair with both hands now, moaning out a version of Daeron’s name that was more sound that word.
Valarr’s hips began to move despite himself. He did not wish to hurt Daeron, but Daeron did not bid him to stop either. He could have, but when Valarr looked down, Daeron looked far too entranced in his task.
Daeron’s hands were moving between his legs, most likely touching himself. Valarr could only briefly think it a shame, as he wished to touch his cousin too, because the wet noises of his cock using Daeron’s mouth were so deafening he could think of little else for more than a moment.
He shifted his hands in the blond hair experimentally, along with the roll of his hips.
Daeron did not object, he moaned when Valarr used his grip to press himself a bit deeper into his open throat. There was a brief gag, and Valarr relented, but Daeron continued. He seemed determined to take it all with each stroke, and Valarr would not deny him when he was doing him such service.
“Daeron —” Valarr gasped, a much cleaner version of his name, between low groans in his chest.
His hips were thrusting into his waiting mouth, drool was leaking down Daeron’s stubbled chin. He could feel more than hear the heady noises his cousin let out, weak moans as Valarr tightened his grip in his hair.
Valarr knew he was only moments from his peak, only moments from a climax.
He did not think to give Daeron the courtesy of asking if he wanted it in his mouth. His cousin had been the one to drop to his knees before him, to seek him out. Somehow, he knew where Daeron wanted him to spend.
Valarr’s hips picked up, losing whatever learned rhythm Daeron’s mouth was teaching him. He gasped, another choked out name, and whimpered as heat rolled through him. His climax hit him hard, and he listened to the choking gag from Daeron on his knees as he came in his throat.
Daeron’s nose was nestled down in the brown hair at the base of Valarr’s cock, and one hand had came to grip Valarr’s thigh and slap lightly once Valarr’s climax finished.
Valarr realized he needed air, and pulled him off, gasping with tears in his own eyes from how rocked thoroughly he was.
Those wet eyes were nothing compared to Daeron’s.
Daeron had tears dripping down his face, seed and drool falling down his chin, as he finally let Valarr’s spent cock fall from his mouth. He sucked in a gasping breath, and Valarr was seconds away from apologizing when Daeron yanked him down by his tunic.
The leggings around his shins did little for Valarr’s balance. He fell to his knees in front of Daeron, chest heaving, and moaned into the wet mouth of the blond. His cousin kissed him hard, and needy, pressing Valarr against the door.
Valarr could taste himself on his tongue. He could taste his own cock, his own seed, on his cousins tongue. He groaned out a moan, licking into Daeron’s mouth as Daeron had his. He felt Daeron’s hand wrap around his hand, and tug him down to touch him.
With Daeron’s hand holding onto Valarr’s, the blond wrapped both their grip around his cock. It was hard, warm, and heavy in Valarr’s enclosed palm. He did not need to do any work, Daeron did it all for him. He used Valarr’s hand to stroke his cock, needy and high pitched whimpers leaving his throat as he did.
Their kiss did not part, but it was messier than before.
Sloppy, with how Daeron moaned into Valarr’s mouth, and how Valarr would not let them part for a moment. He tightened his hand, willing his cousin to spend between them. And, as if he was asked once more, Daeron followed through with the silent command.
He came, with a sobbing moan of Valarr’s name, thick ribbons onto the floor. It got on Valarr’s leggings, with how awkwardly they sat. Valarr did not care. He kissed Daeron through the climax, and knew his cousin was done when he finally let go of his hand.
Valarr, was not done.
He took his warm hand, wet with Daeron’s seed, and cupped his cousins face. Daeron’s face was still wet, wetter still from Valarr’s tongue. He moaned sweetly when Valarr held him there, kissing him greedily. Valarr did not know what had come over him as he licked around Daeron’s mouth. His tongue moved across the prickly stubble, his spine shivering with the pleasure of it, lapping up all the mess from the time his cousin had him in his mouth.
“Valarr —” Daeron laughed, but it was wrecked. His voice was hoarse, rough like sand. “Gods, you’re delightful.”
“You said that,” Valarr moaned, as he kissed him again. His voice was far better, but just as ruined with lust.
“It is true,” Daeron said, with a whimper. Valarr was holding the back of his head now, and it must have been clear he didn’t want to let him go. “Valarr — mercy on me.”
“Mercy?” Valarr asked, pulling back slightly. His eyes were stuck on the swollen, red, lips of his cousin. His mouth looked even more beautiful than before.
“Mercy,” Daeron repeated. He smiled weakly, though his eyes glittered with happiness. His lashes were wet, most likely from the tears more than the bath. “I am a villain to take such from you this evening, do not bring me closer to hell by asking me to take more.”
“You are no villain,” Valarr said, kissing him again. Daeron laughed, pushing the brunets shoulders weakly as if to keep him from his mouth. “You have taken nothing from me I did not ask you to.”
“I’d take more, if you’d let me,” Daeron said, his eyes looking down to where Valarr’s cock sat, spent, against his leg. He groaned, and leaned forward, resting his cheek on Valarr’s shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, I’ve half a mind to lock you in here with me.”
“We’ve the hunt on the morrow,” Valarr said, dumbly, wondering what else Daeron wanted to take from him.
“Fuck the hunt,” Daeron groaned. It made Valarr laugh this time.
“What else would you take from me?” He could not help but ask. Daeron leaned in to kiss his neck, right above where the collar of his tunic sat.
“What you should only give to your wife,” Daeron whispered. “I’d take your cock inside me, like a greedy whore, needy for the first time of our beloved Young Prince.”
Valarr shuddered. The idea had come to him, but he’d not thought his cousin to say it. He wondered what it meant that Daeron assumed correctly he’d never taken anyone before.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Valarr denied, shaking his head. A bit of shame was coming up to his belly now, replacing the lust. “I should not have defaced you like this, you’re … you’re no whore.”
“I am no better than one.” Daeron, however, did not seem shamed. “And you’ve hardly defaced me. I am a red stain upon your white purity, my beloved cousin.”
Valarr didn’t know what to say to that. He knew what Daeron got up to, how loose he was with himself in addition to his drink. It made his belly burn to think of. He thought of what Daeron had said, how he’d take if Valarr wanted.
“You’d truly take me inside you?” Valarr asked, his hands moving over Daeron’s back. He didn’t know when he’d put his arms around him, or when he’d begun to trace up and down his spine. “Would that not hurt you?”
“No,” Daeron kissed his neck again, tilting his head to kiss his jaw as well. “I know the ways of the world, my dear. I am well versed in pleasure, not pain. It wouldn’t hurt me.”
Valarr, past the burning in his belly that Daeron knew, thought of this.
“We’ve the hunt,” he said, dumbly.
“We do,” Daeron sighed.
He must have taken it as Valarr’s final denial. He pulled away from him, though he did spare the brunet another kiss, and moved to stand up. Valarr watched him move away, but stopped Daeron this time with a hand on his wrist.
“When we return from the hunt,” Valarr said, mismatched eyes looking over his cousins ruined mouth. “We will not be departing for King’s Landing right away.”
“No,” the blond agreed. “I believe your father has plans to stay another week.”
“There … will be no hunt, then. When we return from it.”
Daeron watched his face as well. A grin bloomed there, and Valarr felt his face heat. But Daeron leaned in to kiss him, lingering against his mouth.
“Let us plan for it,” he said, cheeky and sweet. “I will hold you to your oath, beloved cousin. You must not disappoint me.”
“Do not take another while you wait for me,” Valarr demanded. One of Daeron’s brows rose, but his smile did not die. “I won’t have myself sharing you, while I visit.”
“Spoken so sure for a boy so green.”
Valarr scowled, but Daeron laughed. He kissed him, again, and Valarr supposed he could forgive the teasing if his cousin continued to kiss him. He rather liked it, and was remorseful to let him go. They kissed again, a short thing, then a longer one, for a few more moments.
Finally, Daeron pulled away again.
“Fuck this bloody hunt,” his cousin groaned, his brow causing his face to look properly upset. “Away with you, sweet cousin, for if I continue to kiss you any longer our planned engagement will happen now.”
Valarr had to remember that he was asked to rest early and rise earlier, because that did not sound so bad. He didn’t want to upset his father.
He instead, said nothing. He watched Daeron rise, this time not stopping him, and focused his eyes on his pert arse as Daeron wandered back to the tub. The blond fell back into it with a groan, and Valarr took it as his sign to get up.
It was dirty, and difficult, to fix his clothing, but he managed. He wanted to walk to the tub and kiss Daeron again, but he held himself back.
“Valarr,” Daeron’s head rolled to look at him. He’d washed his face off in the water. “Call a maid for me, if you would. I’d have her wash my hair.”
Valarr nodded, and opened the door, stepping over Daeron’s seed on the ground. He paused, once it was open, and looked back at the blond watching him.
“Do not ask this one to kiss you,” Valarr demanded.
Daeron’s roaring laughter followed him out, and Valarr found himself in agreement with his cousins earlier statement.
Fuck this hunt.