Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones, because if I did I would be much richer.
AN: "Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who'd said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it." - A Storm of Swords
AU from the above moment in ASOS. Daenerys decides to take two husbands, but can she handle them both?
Rated M for...well, it's their wedding night, so you can guess. Also I've never written...things...of such a nature...before...so apologies for the quality of said writings.
Written for mrstater's prompt at asoiafkinkmeme. And many thanks to pheonikxs for her encouragement (even though she's already done an awesome job filling the same prompt).
Daenerys Targaryen did not summon Jorah Mormont to her until the second night after their wedding.
She had donned a Qartheen gown for the occasion, and she traced her fingers along the violet silk as she waited. She felt strangely calm.
The previous evening, Queen Daenerys had given Meereen not one, but two kings. The dragon has three heads, Ser Jorah had told her, and so she had decided to simply marry them both: the man who loved her and the man she desired. It was perhaps the strangest wedding in living memory; the Queen smiling in her tokar at the head of the hall, with a blue-haired Tyroshi sellsword grinning at her left side and her Westerosi knight scowling at her right.
She had spent the first night with Daario. She knew it was cruel to Ser Jorah, but one of them had to be second, and she had wanted to sleep with Daario Naharis from the moment he had swaggered into her tent outside of Yunkai. Jorah had waited for her this long, he could wait a bit longer. It isn't as though either of them would have had my maidenhead, so what does it matter?
Her bear had been angry anyway, of course, until she had calmly told him he was welcome to join her and Daario on their wedding night. Jorah had turned even redder at that, and stormed off, and she had not seen him again until the ceremony.
It was fortunate that he had not taken her offer seriously. That would have been a disaster. Dany was certain both men would sooner murder each other.
She still feared their marriage might end that way. The warlocks in the House of the Undying had told her the dragon had three heads, but she knew she could hardly have chosen two heads more likely to tear each other apart. Only their love for her forced them to tolerate one another – and Daenerys still wondered whether Daario Naharis loved her at all. Or whether she loved him - or Ser Jorah. Both, neither, one and not the other…but it did not matter. She had wed them both the same, and all three would share the consequence of it.
I must keep them separate. I must not think of one when I am with the other. That is the only way this will work. But she had spent the whole day thinking of both her husbands, and worrying about them both. She could still feel Daario's hands on her, could still see the glint of his smile when she closed her eyes. And yet when she thought of the evening to come, she also tasted the sweetness of Jorah's mouth, and felt the roughness of his beard, and remembered the way her nipples had hardened at his touch.
Dany was not sure she had been entirely truthful in Yunkai, when she had told Ser Jorah she did not desire him. It had seemed better, at the time, to choose the harder answer than to lead him along without one. But now they were wed. She had married him. And Daario Naharis as well.
For a moment she could not remember why she had done it. Had she simply wed one man to bed him, and another because she could not bear to hurt him any longer?
Her heart hammered in her chest. It is done. It is done, and we must all live with it.
The door opened with a creak that did nothing to slow the pounding of Dany's heart. Ser Jorah stepped through, shutting it behind him, and nodded at her.
"Your Grace."
Dany had barely heard his voice since before the wedding. He had mumbled his way through the ceremony, and spoken not a word to her during the feast afterward. And she had not seen him at all today. She had missed his voice, she realized.
She smiled at him with more ease than she felt. "I do not think you are required to call me 'Your Grace' any longer," she said, "now that you are a king."
"Half a king," he snorted. He would not meet her eyes, though Dany did see him cast a glance over her bared breast.
"One of two is not half," she replied. "Your Grace."
Jorah frowned. "Truly, I prefer 'Ser.'"
Daario loved the idea of being a king. He had muttered it as he made love to her – "King Daario and Queen Daenerys" - and jested with her about the hair colors that would best compliment a crown.
Dany could not imagine Jorah ever wearing a crown. She could hardly imagine him a king at all, and yet he had asked her to marry him knowing full well what she was – he had been the first man to declare her his liege, to pledge his service to the crown. Did he not understand what it would mean to love her?
"You would truly prefer not to be wed to a queen?" she quipped.
"That is not what I said, Daenerys."
But is it what you meant? She had not had time to think it until now, preoccupied as she had been with Daario the previous evening. But what sort of bridegroom scowled through his wedding? She had known he would not be happy to share her, but it was his idea in the first place, and she had thought he would at least be happy to have her as his wife. Was that not why she had married him?
He sighed, and looked up at her – finally – but did not move any closer. She allowed him to study her, and even stood a bit straighter so that he could see the gown to its full effect.
"Qartheen," he muttered. "An interesting choice."
"You seemed to admire them when we were in Qarth." Jorah turned slightly red at that, and she smiled. "I thought it would please you."
He made no response, but even in the candlelight Dany could see his eyes darken, and the roll of his throat as he swallowed.
"I wanted you to remember where we've been," she added, taking a few careful steps toward him, "and how far we have come."
"I have not forgotten."
His voice was thick, and Dany feared she had not pleased him at all, but rather upset him again. So she closed the gap between them, and placed a hand on his cheek.
"Tonight there is only us, my bear."
Jorah sighed again, and cupped her face in his hands.
"Daenerys," he began, "I know I am not a young man, and not worthy of your beauty. But…" He traced his fingers along the lines of her face, so slowly. "I wish you had given me a chance…to show you…"
"You may show me now."
Dany had expected him to act on her words, or at least move, but he did not. He seemed to be waiting for something, so she reached up on her toes and kissed him.
His hands stretched around her neck and wove into her hair as he returned the kiss, parting her lips gently with the tip of his tongue, and this time her mouth opened for him when she told it to.
Still sweet, she thought, her own tongue exploring further, tasting him.
She had only just begun to familiarize herself with his mouth when he removed it. Dany gasped in disappointment, but Jorah's lips soon returned to her, trailing slowly down the curve of her neck to her collarbone, and then further down, until they reached her exposed breast and lingered there. His tongue flicked across her bare nipple; the heat of his breath made the air around it feel colder, and when he abandoned it to return to her lips a chill ran down her spine.
His kisses were hard now, and she could feel the press of his manhood straining against her thigh. She pressed back against him, but to her surprise he released her mouth and pulled away.
"Daenerys," he said, "Is this truly what you want?"
She hadn't thought about it, truly. She had married him, and had known what their wedding night would entail. But did she want it?
She had told Ser Jorah she did not want him. She had slapped him, on Balerion, angered by his presumption. She had been so confused, after he kissed her. She could not deny that she had enjoyed it, but she had told herself it was only loneliness, that it had been too long since she had felt the touch of a man.
Yet she had been with Daario yesterday, and today she still enjoyed Jorah's kisses. Dany wasn't sure what that meant, but she was sure she wanted to find out.
In place of an answer, she reached her palm down and curled it around his arousal.
Jorah drew a sharp breath in, and then he claimed her mouth again, and she looped her arms around his neck to pull him in closer. His fingers slipped down from her neck and across her shoulders, his left hand brushing aside the thin strap of fabric that held her gown to her body. As it fell to the floor, his thumbs followed it down her arms, across the tips of her breasts, until his hands stretched around the curve of her arse.
Though he held her tightly against his hips, Dany needed to be closer. She tugged at the fabric of his tunic and slid her hands underneath, brushing the soft trail of hairs that led into his breeches, and he swiftly pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. When his chest met hers, his bare skin warm against her breasts and stomach, she let a soft sigh escape her lips, and Jorah echoed it with a low rumble.
She could not remember exactly what followed, but suddenly she was lying on her back on her bed, with her bear leaning over her, planting soft kisses along her neck and collarbone.
Jorah sat back on his knees to look at her. It was not the first time he had seen her in this state of undress; she had risen from Drogo's funeral pyre naked and hairless before her khalasar, and there had been that night on Balerion, and he'd seen certain parts of her many times in Qarth. But she had not seen him before, and it suddenly seemed vastly unfair to her that he was sitting there gazing over her exposed form while still wearing his breeches, so she reached up to fumble with the laces until he helped her slide them down, kicking them off of his feet as he arched his body back over hers.
They hovered there for a minute, laid bare to one another for the first time. It seemed like so long ago that she had first seen him in Pentos and wondered about the dark Westerosi knight lurking in Drogo's manse. If I look back I am lost, Dany thought, and she met her husband's eyes, and nodded slowly.
Jorah held her gaze as he entered her, pressing slowly in until he filled her completely.
"Daenerys," he breathed. The look on his face made Dany fear that it was already over, but he steadied himself and drew back gingerly so he could return again, and she moaned softly as his cock stroked her sex.
He moved carefully above her, keeping her with him as he pushed deeper, keeping control. But Dany wasn't ready to let her knight have control just yet. She pressed her hands against his chest to turn him over, and though at first he looked confused, he acquiesced, and lay still beneath her.
For several moments he allowed her to ride him, and she marveled at the sight of her knight spread out beneath her, his neck stretched out as he moaned softly. But then he sat up all at once, so that she was straddling him, and curled his legs underneath her. His fingers gripped her back, and he had seized her mouth again, and rocked his hips in a way that sent a shock of pleasure through Dany's body.
It took her awhile to find the rhythm of it, but when she finally matched his pace the sensation hit her like a wave, the familiar pressure coiling deep inside.
She met his eyes again. Something was happening that had not happened to her before, not on her first wedding night, nor last night. Daario had been…athletic, and skilled, and she had enjoyed their wedding night, but Ser Jorah made love like a drowning man searching for air, like she was the only thing in the world to him.
"Jorah," she moaned, feeling the pressure building to its peak.
He groaned against her neck. His breath was ragged, and she knew he was close as well. "Say my name again," he commanded.
She did, but it was more a cry than a word, and then she was over the edge, and falling, and Jorah's fingers clenched, pressing hard into her skin as he fell with her.
They were still for a long time, panting in each other's arms. When Dany had slowed her pulse and caught her breath again, she kissed her knight again. He still held her firmly in his arms; she was almost afraid to move, to end the safe, warm feeling of his body wrapped around her. It felt like…like…home.
She had nearly drifted off when she felt Jorah lean her gently back onto the bed. She stretched lazily along it, waiting for him to stretch out next to her so she could rest her head on his broad shoulder and drape an arm across his stomach.
Dany barely felt his hands thread into her hair before her eyes fluttered shut, and everything faded into the rise and fall of her husband's chest.