Disclaimer: ASOIAF is not mine, sadly.
a/n
Allrighty, this is a short work I did during lunch breaks. Meaning? Yes, meaning there will not be a regular update. I might write more, if the reception is good.
Coming from a broken home, I hated how Rhaegar abandoned his wife and children for Lyanna. No matter his justification, I hate him. I also hate the Starks, and oh and Catelyn. I have a lot of hate, I know. But I love Cersei! and Elia! Oh, and Tywin and Gregor and Ser Alliser Thorne! Gotta love the villains! Well, enough of my ramblings!
And do not forget to REVIEW! Review is the food of us dark creatures known as fanfic writers.
Warning: The M stands for Mature. Meaning you underaged kiddies should GIT OUT. I will trust you ickle kiddies to be responsible. *winkwink*
Chapter One - Wedding Night
Dornish Red was, perhaps the sweetest wine ever brewed. In truth, he preffered the Arbor, but the sweeter Dornish Red was more fitting to the taste of victory on his lips.
He sat by the window, the cool autumn breeze barged in, bringing the refreshing smell of the Narrow Sea.
Daeron Targaryen smirked into his cup, violet eyes darkening with each passing second, as he laid eyes on the woman that was his wife of two hours.
Elia, she was clad in a Dornish style wedding dress. The orange-red of the skimpy dress was complimentary of her olive skin. They brought out the smoky darkness of her eyes, akin to pools of murky black waters that Daeron would willingly drown himself in.
She shivered, either from his stare or the cold, "Should we not go to bed, your grace?"
Her timid demeanor was a mistake that would be fixed, he had seen her defiance in the face of the sneering court. Her strength when she stood as still as a statue before the Mad King. The sight aroused him more than her revealing dress, and now, she was a disappointment.
"In a bit. I wish to enjoy the wine. Your brother, Prince Oberyn, knew his wine well." He gestured at the seat next to his, deliberately placed to be on the coldest spot. "Keep me company, my lady."
Her eyes were burning, the woman thought he would humiliate and torture her, and despite that, held her chin high and walked over. Daeron hid a shiver. This was the woman he burned for.
"I apologize before hand, your grace, for I cannot hold my wine. My poor health left me unwanting of alcohol."
She sat, and Daeron could see the bumps of chill breaking over her smooth skin, and he lamented the sacrilage. He conversed with her half-heartedly, asking of the adventures she had as a girl with her siblings.
Ten minutes, and she clasped a hand on her mouth, sneezing quietly.
"Are you cold, my lady?"
She shot him a concealed dirty look. "A bit, your grace."
Daeron smiled winningly, patting his thigh. "A poor husband would I be, should I fail to warm my wife."
His grin must have been too telling, for a light of understanding dawned in her eyes. Her exasperated sigh was not altogether a bad sign, it was accompanied by a tiny, confused smile.
Elia rose gracefully, the thin dress swishing behind her, as she settled on his lap. Daeron inhaled deeply, her scent was far more intoxicating than even the wine in his cup.
"Do you like how I smell, your grace?" There was teasing in her voice, having discerned a purpose in his actions.
"Daeron," He murmured, staring deeply into her eyes. "Say my name, Elia. We are strangers no more."
Her returning smile was kind, yet not quite loving. It was too early, he told the disappointment in his chest, love did not bloom overnight.
"Of course, Daeron." The dornish lilt in the name brought a surge of fire in his veins.
He shivered, breathing in her scent again. He rubbed her cold arms until they glow with heat. "Yes, my lady. I like your smell. I like touching your smooth skin. I like the way you look." He nuzzled her bared shoulder, kissing and licking her flawless skin. "I like your taste," He abandoned her arms, powerful hands gripping the swell of her hips. "I like the shape of you."
Elia's face was flushed, desire and shyness fought over her mind. Her breathing had shallowed, though her smile grew. "It seemed you are well experienced with women, husband of mine."
It was a flicker, barely noticed, of distase in the depths of her eyes. He understood it. Elia was different, her Dornish heritage made her appearance exotic, not exactly meeting the standard of beauty of Westros. Jealous noblewomen were as dangerous as an armed knight, maybe even more with their gossips and lies.
Yet, none of those mattered. Elia was beautiful in his eyes. Her physique, her attitude, her wit. To him, she could have been the Maiden come again.
"Quite." He held her hips tighter, "But the privilage of a husband is to stay faithful to his wife."
"Most would call it a duty." She replied.
"Most do not have such beauty as wife."
She blushed in his sincerity, and when he leaned forward to capture her tiny lips, she closed her eyes and surrendered.
He was right, she tasted heavenly. The first was a chaste touch on the lips, a testing of water of sort. The second was deeper, more emotional, a thank you of sort for his declaration. The third was the longest yet, lips parting and tongues waxed gentle promises of potential unrealised yet.
He laid his head against her, eyes closed and breathing heavy, and Daeron almost lost his mind to her scent. "How was it, Elia?"
"Hmm, adequate." She said cheekily.
He was good, and she was the inexperienced one. The jealousy in his chest roared in triumph. His wife was pure of other men's filth. Another in his chest chastised him for fooling around with so many women before her. Yet the last part was glad he fooled about, for now the knowledge would be put to properly please this Goddess before him, for she would deserve nothing less.
"My lady is most hard to please." He pecked her lips, nibbling on the lower one. "It is good that I am no beginner."
Elia giggled softly. "Forgive me for I jest. You are more than adequate, Daeron."
He held her closer, whispering into her ears, "And still, I have more up my sleeve." And was gratified when she shivered and pressed herself closer to him. "Would you like to move to our bed, Elia?"
She nodded slowly, almost fearfully. The maids had filled her head with useless informations, it seemed. "Fear no pain, fair lady. I am not a green boy fumbling with his breeches."
She smiled shakily, "I should hope so, Daeron. Oh, the stories the maids told me..."
He laid her on the gold colored satin bedsheet, "You shall feel nothing but pleasure, Elia. This I promise."
She nodded, not entirely sure, but could do nothing else. He held her hand when she tried to undress. "Lay back, love, and let me worship my wife as is her due."
"You keep saying these things..." She murmured, gasping as he cupped her modest chest through the dress.
"All truth, I assure you." Daeron kneaded gently, coaxing pleasured sighs from her lips. "Does my praises pleases you?"
"Should it be truth, yes."
"Know my body then, it cannot lie." He took her hand, placing it upon the tent of his pants. Her face was red, but her smile grew confident, and her hand grew in certainty, knowing she aroused him so.
Daeron touches and kissed and licked every part of her exposed flesh. Her arms, her shoulders and slim neck, then whispered the filthy things he would do to her body, while slowly peeling back the golden shroud defending her virtue.
She was sweating, great pants heaved from her chest, her eyes were the darkest he had seen, clouded by overpowering lust. As the last piece of cloth was peeled from her divine shape, he leaned back and observed her.
Elia had a hand over her breasts and a palm over her slit, a shy and unsure smile playing at her lips. "It should be treason to deny me my princess' loveliness." He smiled at her, nudging the offending limbs away from his prize.
"And is it a crime for my prince to leer over me, while I am left wanting of his charm?" She retorted.
Daeron laughed and began to undress, but Elia stayed him, "It is only fair."
Amused, he leaned back into the bed, taking Elia's place as she took his, "Teach me, Daeron."
So he did, and a fast learner Elia was. She emulated what he did, kissing and licking slowly exposed flesh. When he was as bare as her, she touched his stiff cock, and the way she looked at it gave Daeron a sense of satisfaction. He had not disappoint.
Chaste as she was, growing up in Dorne and with Oberyn Martell as brother, Elia was not entirely clueless. She engulfed his prick in her small mouth. Clumsy as she was, the sight of his princess in such a filthy act gave raise to a surge of arousal.
"Enough." He grunted, pulling her head away from his wet cock. "Anymore, and I will shame myself." His woman laughed, and looked the more sensual with her puffy lips and drenched chin. "Lay down my lady, it is your turn."
She laid down, "I thought my lord is experienced with women? Was it a lie, perhaps?"
"In truth, you need more practice." He smirked when she flushed, "It is the sight of a proper princess, sucking cock like it was a delicious treat. It is a most satisfying sight."
Elia was beet red, "It is a wife's duty to tend to and please her man."
Daeron lifted her legs behind his shoulders, and licked at the honey trickling between her legs. "No, Elia, there shall be no duty between us. For now, it is pleasure and lust, and later, love."
Through her hithed breath, she smiled, "I would like that."
That was the last coherent sentence between them that moment. Daeron delved into her folds, chuckling in triumph at the sweetness he found there, for even with how insatiable he was of her taste, Elia easily provided even more.
Her little nub he pinched between teeth, and flicked with his tongue. It drove her spare with needs, gripping his hair painfully tight, her thigh clenched around his head. Elia wailed his name as she came undone for the first time, back arched away from the comfort of their bed.
She flopped back, boneless and strengthless, a wide smile spreading on her lips. "We are not done yet, are we?" She panted in fatigue, "I would be most disappointed if we are."
Daeron looked out the window, then back at his dark Goddess, nestled in gold satin, face flushed from pleasure, and smelled most intoxicating. "I do not intend for sleep."
Elia laughed, clear and beautiful like the chime of bells. He leaned over her, using his fingers to spread her, using her own wetness to ease the digits. Elia gasped and thrust her hips closer to his finger.
"Does it hurt?" He peered at her.
She shook her head, "I feel... full, a bit unpleasant, but not painful."
Daeron slid two fingers into her, slowly adjusting her to penetration. Not long after, Elia began moaning in earnest, babbling nonsensical words of praises and his name. "No more, Daeron. Tease no more." She whimpered, "I want to be one with you."
He was aware of how painful his cock was in the short moment since they first touched the bed, but endured for her sake. Her words brought back all the lust and broke down his thin patience.
His hands slipped out of her, Elia mewled at the loss. "Shh, relax my princess, this will sting."
She was too far gone into the haze of pleasure. Elia's longs legs clamped around his waist, ankles locking together and pulling him in. Daeron chuckled, "Impatient, my fair lady?"
Elia whined in response, her legs flexed, trying to pull him. Daeron leaned over her, one arm propping himself, the other lined his cock against her smoldering core. He pushed and prodded at her entrance, sliding in very slowly, aided by the slick of her musk.
Daeron pushed through her last defense, and his princess sucked in a painful breath. Daeron stilled his hips, peppering her face with soft kisses and muttered apologies. When he felt her relaxing somewhat, he continued, slow but sure.
"Does it hurt?" He asked softly, after fully sheated inside her.
She nodded, unshed tears brimming in her eyes, and wincing. "A little, stay still."
Daeron kissed her, deep and slow, trying to quench the roaring fire of desire in him. The beast caged behind his ribs howled in victorious conquest. He had long hold a flame for Elia Martell of Dorne, and she was finally his. The taste of true victory was inebriating.
He could no longer delay, the heat and tightness was maddening. Daeron pulled back very slowly, then ground against her, just as slow. Her lips parted with every movement, eyes blown wide from pain and pleasure.
"Is it good?" He murmured against her lips.
"Yes," She replied haltingly, "Yes. More?"
Pleasure had clouded her mind, and her refreshing wit was taken away. It was a good sign, of course. His pride puffed up its chest, content to have pleased his woman so. "As my princess commanded."
He sped up, and was rewarded with her breathy moans. She would keen beautifully when he pushed, and would whimper needily when he pulled. A virgin's tightness was unrivaled, and with a beauty such as Elia's, experienced as he may, Daeron feared he would be undone by this woman all too quickly.
He pushed and pulled against her, letting his instinct run free since she had adjusted.
Her neck and upper chest was a mass of red marks, mercilessly kissed and liberally marked. Spine bent, Daeron kissed the valley of her breasts, then engulfed one in his mouth, while kneading the other. Her nipple he rolled in tight grip, earning high-pitched mewls from Elia.
Every woman had a sweet spot, and Elia was no different. Elia's was rather deep, in the upper walls of her tightness, Daeron found. He angled his cock, stilling for a second, commiting it to memory.
"No! Don't stop!"
He smiled at her protest, then claimed her lips before he thrust strongly. Elia's shriek would have awoken the entire keep had he not swallowed it.
He thrust, once, twice, three times, and she tensed. Her walls tightened, sweet nectar of love flooded the impossibly tight passage, squeezing down on his cock.
Daeron let go of his restraints, groaning her name as he came, coating her insides with white.
Exhaustion crept in, Daeron managed to throw himself to the side of the bed, narrowly avoiding crushing her under him.
She was dazed, her perfect body quivering with aftershocks of sex, her eyes glazed and a large smile plastered on her lips. He pulled her in, kissing her again. A gentle and chaste touching of the lips, but so much more emotional than physical.
"How was I?" Daeron caressed her face, tucked close against his heart. Fitting, he thought.
A playful twinkle entered her eyes, "Adequate. But I do hope Prince Daeron Targaryen, a master of the sword and spear, would have more stamina and not be done so quickly?"
He chortled at her blatantly crude innuendo. "I like this short pause," Daeron pressed a kiss to her temple, "It allowed me to savor the moment of closeness, to appreciate this beautiful Goddess of a wife I have."
Her face darkened with a blush, but her gaze did not waver. "You should say more of these things to me."
"I would tease that my lady likes her flattery, but these words are anything but. 'Tis only the truth I spoke of."
Elia tittered, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder, leaving a bright red mark against his pale skin. "Mmm, my princely husband knows how to use his mouth and tongue properly."
Daeron found her hand, and entwined their fingers together. "And now I would prefer your mouth to be screaming my name while I fuck you into our marital bed. It needs to be broken in."
She flushed, "Such crude language, Daeron. What would the realm think? Their prince reduced into this animal?"
He manouvered her, his legs were under hers, her legs slung over his thighs. They laid, side by side, Daeron smirked as he lined his cock against her dripping entrance. "They would understand. For what man can resist a Goddess, when she laid so docile in his bed and smelled of his seed?"
He entered her slowly, the posistion made her tight passage almost unpassable. Elia had to shift slightly to take him in, but they were finally joined again. The first was of careful preparation, the second would be a sating of his hunger.
Daeron's arms around her were like bands of steel, holding her in place as he kissed and licked her neck and breasts, and fucked her with abandon. He was sure her screams awoke the floors above and underneath them.
They came together again, gushing even more mixed liquid onto the golden satin sheet.
"That was intense," she observed, panting hard with his cock still lodged in her.
"Hmhm," He kissed her deeply. "That was me having my fill." Daeron eyed her sweat drenched body, glistening in the soft glow of scented candles. "I fear you shall not be sleeping tonight, fair lady."
She sighed dramatically. "Oh, the agony! What have I commit myself into?"
Amused, he loomed over her again. "It is not a burden or agony when your lips called my name and your body tightening even more."
"Was it my fault to have a husband so skilled in sex?" She batted her eyelashes.
"Lovemaking," he corrected her. "Any lecher can learn how to properly fuck. I have had my pleasure, now I will worship this wanton flesh of my young wife."
She was starting to get used to his bedroom language, for Elia delighted and beckoned with a crooked finger. Daeron crouched atop of her again, settled between her spread legs. He took his time, a slow and steady rhythm.
"Faster Daeron," The vision of beauty under him writhed, "I need more, love. Faster!"
He chuckled at her pout, "No. This is the last one for the night, and I want it to last as long as it could." He silenced her protest with his lips.
It was true, Elia might not have felt it, but he saw it. Her fragile health would not allow such a prolonged exertion. Even now, clouded and drunk, Elia showed signs of fatigue.
His kisses was gentle, with tentative nips and licks against her bosom. Their hips rolled slowly, meeting and parting within the same wavelength.
He cupped her face, staring deeply into her delicate face, contorted into a blissful smile. The way her breath hitched everytime he rubbed at her sweet spot, how she mewled when he suckled on her nipple, and her shriek when he pinched the nub above her slit.
He saw all of her, and basked in her glow as they tumbled over into the pool of pleasure together.
There was no loud shrieks and grunts this time, only mouths opened in a silent wail of ecstasy, with spines arched and nails and teeth digging painfully into flesh.
Daeron flopped down next to his exhausted love, and pulled her close. Elia was already half-asleep as he pulled a cover over them.
"Feels good." She mumbled, and dozed.
He nibbled on her ear, "Rest, my love, tomorrow will require your strength. I am far from done with you, fair lady."
Elia nodded against his thumping heart, he could feel her curved lips on bare skin. "Neither am I."