[ There had been doubt fostered between them, in the past — recent events had led Rhaenyra to question Daemon's true intentions, his deeper motivations regarding her rightful claim to the Iron Throne. Whatever had transpired for him at Harrenhal, whatever ghosts he may have been forced to confront there within its haunted walls, seems to have given him a new perspective — not merely in regard to her father's insistence of the Song of Ice and Fire and its importance, but that she can serve as the best ruler to lead the Seven Kingdoms when it inevitably comes to pass.
How long, she thinks, had she been his — a piece of her belonging to him even as he had taken other wives, as she had been promised to another husband? That night on the Streets of Silk had been illuminating for her in more than one sense, but he had refrained then, denying himself, denying them. Years later, the encounter on the beach between them had been hers to initiate, asserting her desire for him as a woman rather than a girl.
Here, her desire lies not in mere womanhood, and not even necessarily that of a queen; she aches for him as wife for husband, as her dragon, and her pace quickens as her need does, as they start to move more frantically, with an accompanying slap of skin against skin. ]
Daemon. [ A plea, nearly a whine despite their earlier play, she wants no other name on his lips but hers, as she edges closer to her peaking. ]
Finish inside me. [ She craves every drop of his seed now — perhaps it will not take root this time, but that doesn't mean she wants it left anywhere else. It's evident she's holding herself back, though, trying to withstand him, so that she saves her own release for his tongue, so that he can lick his leavings out of her. ]
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How long, she thinks, had she been his — a piece of her belonging to him even as he had taken other wives, as she had been promised to another husband? That night on the Streets of Silk had been illuminating for her in more than one sense, but he had refrained then, denying himself, denying them. Years later, the encounter on the beach between them had been hers to initiate, asserting her desire for him as a woman rather than a girl.
Here, her desire lies not in mere womanhood, and not even necessarily that of a queen; she aches for him as wife for husband, as her dragon, and her pace quickens as her need does, as they start to move more frantically, with an accompanying slap of skin against skin. ]
Daemon. [ A plea, nearly a whine despite their earlier play, she wants no other name on his lips but hers, as she edges closer to her peaking. ]
Finish inside me. [ She craves every drop of his seed now — perhaps it will not take root this time, but that doesn't mean she wants it left anywhere else. It's evident she's holding herself back, though, trying to withstand him, so that she saves her own release for his tongue, so that he can lick his leavings out of her. ]