tooktheblack | for Dany [H&M]

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daenerys,
h&m

for Dany [H&M]

Jon had discovered that Daenerys had very specific cravings at this point in her pregnancy and he always, always wanted to fulfill them. She tended to always want these things late at night, though, and while it was troublesome to get out of bed and seek out chocolate and ginger tea in the small hours of the morning, one look at her sweet, sleepy face and Jon was gone.

When he'd asked Ghost to come with, the direwolf had given him a sleepy huff and, once Jon had climbed out of bed, promptly crawled in next to Daenerys. Problematic, considering his size, and Jon couldn't help but laugh.

"Traitor," he chided, then leaned over and brushed a kiss against his queen's mouth. "Sleep well. I'll be back soon."

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Daenerys hummed quietly in approval as she drew him deeper into the wet heat of her mouth; she did so love the feel of his fingers sifting through her hair. She wouldn't have minded it if need had pushed them to tighten and twist, not really, but the softness, the tenderness between them, it was one of the many reasons she couldn't stand the very thought of losing her wolf. Not ever.

She lifted her gaze to watch him through the errant strands of her hair, all of her focus on his pleasure and her desire for him to feel her love, her devotion to him, to convey her ever present need to have him at her side, both in their bed and out.

Her eyes, always a favorite of his, were enough to push him over the edge and find release. It was easy to pretend sometimes that she was some woman from Lys that he'd rescued from the pleasure houses or a pretty Lannister bastard but not when he saw those Targaryen eyes. Nobody had eyes like that except the princess and it always struck him, full force, that he was in bed with the Dragon.

"My queen, my beautiful queen. I love you."

There was a surge of triumph to hearing the sounds he made, tasting his release on her tongue. Daenerys never forgot the stories that Doreah had told her, of the moon that wandered too close to the sun's fire and gave birth to dragons, or of the Lyseni courtesan that could finish a man with nothing but her eyes, which came to mind now. She doubted such a skill truly existed, but maybe there was some trace of truth to the tale.

She coaxed every sound and spasm from him that she could, and when he was spent she gently tugged his hands from her hair and kissed his palms. "I love you, my sweet wolf."

"And I love you, my dragon queen," Jon said softly, voice still rough from arousal and release. He toyed with her hair as he came down because he loved it, loved the way it spilled silver over his chest and abdomen.

"You can never cut this, you know. Never."

Daenerys smiled happily and tucked in against his side as close as her belly would allow, pillowed her head on his chest.

"If my lord husband wishes my hair to fall all the way down to my backside, then so it shall," she teased, snuggling in and kissing his chest. Really, she just liked referring to him as her husband. "As a khaleesi, to cut my hair would symbolize a defeat. So, I will simply never allow myself to be defeated."

"You have, in fact, conquered me," Jon said, plucking one of the braids in her hair between his fingers and looking at the little bell. "Is that from the Dothraki, then? These little braids and bells in your hair?"

"It is." Daenerys closed her eyes and hummed softly, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his fingers playing through her hair. "Every bell is a victory. I have earned three."

She lifted a hand and touched each of the three bells in turn. "The House of the Undying. Astapor. And Meereen."

"You should add another. You've conquered the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon teased gently. "And the North itself, truth be told. Nobody could stand in the way of such heat and beauty and deny you anything. And, once our son comes, you'll have conquered your loss in the past. That means something, doesn't it?"

"Jon, it means everything." Daenerys lifted her head, wriggled and stretched until she could kiss his lips lightly. "But I don't believe it counts, as I am as much the conquered as the conqueror. If anything I should surrender one of my bells to you."

"You should, then, and let me wear it," Jon decided, giving her a slow, soft smile. "Because you have conquered me and I have conquered you. I hear that here in this village, a man and woman exchange rings at marriage. I would rather exchange bells with you instead."

"Yes, I've heard of the same tradition." Daenerys tilted her head thoughtfully, her own smile blooming slowly. "I think I like that idea, very much. It would something that's...ours. It would not be a tradition borrowed from those that came before us, it would just be ours."

She lifted her hand to run her fingertips along a lock of his hair. "I believe you'll look quite fetching with a braid."

"You think? I'll have to get you to do it for me," Jon decided, laughing a little. "Because I don't think my fingers are nearly as clever as yours." Nor as clever as her mouth, but that was a different story. His smile slid darker, more wicked.

"Let me bring you pleasure, my queen?"

If not for the suggestion that distracted her from it, Daenerys would have disagreed with his proclamation: she thought he had very clever hands, very clever indeed.

"Only a foolish woman would turn down such an offer," she murmured, flushing and turning her head to nuzzle his skin. "And I am not a fool."

"Daenerys," Jon breathed, easing her back to the bed so he could spend some time merely touching and worshiping her body. He knew that in many ways, he was different from most men; Ygritte had implied that most took without a thought to the woman's pleasure. Jon felt differently. He felt it was a partnership, something to be shared.

"How am I so lucky?"

"I think we were both fortunate to come here, to find each other." Daenerys ran her fingertips lightly through Jon's hair, shivering and sighing and thoroughly enjoying just being touched. He was such a tactile lover, her wolf, and she loved the feeling of being wanted for no other reason than that she was herself.

"You are so precious to me, Jon."

Jon slid between her legs, kissing one of her thighs as he thought. She was so beautiful, his dragon queen, and he intended to show her how much he loved and adored her, if he could.

"My mouth, then?"

Daenerys giggled softly as the touches, the kisses and the scrap of his beard against her skin tickled some. "If you'd like," she whispered in reply, playing her fingers through his hair with gentle, steady drags. "As you should already know that I do."

"I always like," Jon promised, tongue dragging a slow line along one thigh. She was so beautiful and sometimes, a lot of the time, he was not worthy of it

"I love you, Daenerys."

"Oh--" Daenerys gasped softly, torn between giggling again and whimpering. Her wolf was always keeping her on her toes in some way. "Oh, that was...lovely."

She sighed, and ran her fingertips along the shell of his ear. "I love you, Jon."

Jon didn't answer in words, opting instead to cover her with his mouth and tell her that way. Before coming here to the village, he got the sense Daenerys hadn't had much in the way of affection and care and Jon always wanted to be that for her, to be what a husband was meant to be.

He wasn't wrong, but Jon made Daenerys feel cared for in every possible way, loved, cherished, and protected. What they had between them was special, sometimes she believed no one else in the world could hope to understand it or could ever dream of having something equally as precious. He was so singular a man, her wolf.

"Jon," she breathed, and slid her hand out of his hair to find his and twine their fingers together.

No, no words needed for that when his mouth could be set to other things and he merely devoted himself further to the task, lips and tongue doing what they could to bring her pleasure. It was more difficult now that Daenerys' body had changed shape, true, but Jon enjoyed the challenge.

He imagined that no wife in Westeros was as cared for as his Dragon Queen.

Release was always so sweet and so lovely like this, because Daenerys always forgot the rest of the world entirely. There were no wars to fight, no kingdoms to claim or to rule, no strange magic; the world narrowed to just her and her wolf. Jon made it easy and safe for her to be only herself, safe to be weak and spent in the aftermath.

"Sweet gods, Jon," she gasped and moaned, wriggling and quaking with pleasure until she could take no more. "Gods, I love you so."

Jon finished with a messy kiss to the inside of her thigh and came to lay next to her.

"And I, you, until the end of my days."

Daenerys hummed contentedly, tugging his arm around her. Her skin tingled, so that even the lightest of touches nearly made her shiver. "Only until then?" she murmured teasingly, her voice drowsy and low.

"And beyond," Jon said, just as hazy and drowsy as she sounded. "Past...everything. Undying. Always you, Daenerys, always you."

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for Dany [H&M]

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