Chapter Text
a sign of maturity (or a midlife crisis)
🎀 one 🎀
Daemon was more focused on his drink than the stage at that given moment. Though to be fair, he thought the drink had a better chance of easing his frustrations. It had been a long day, made even longer by this event, especially given that he didn’t even want to be here.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass—admiring it, and finding the clinking of the ice cubes more stimulating than the brunette submissive being paraded before him.
With a huff of annoyance he leaned against the leather booth he was seated on and looked back up at the stage. So far none of the night’s offerings had been to his taste and he doubted the remaining selection would be much of an improvement.
He knew he was picky, but his looks and wealth allowed that. It was rare for his affections not to be returned, it was just…rare for him to feel affection at all. Or attraction, if he was honest. He sighed, thinking of his cock which rarely thickened for a woman alone. It seemed medication was a requirement for sex, these days, and so he often found himself going without that too.
He knew his existence could be described as lonely, but he’d rather have that over a relationship just for the sake of it. Work kept him busy, and he’d rather devote time to that than some girl he found more distracting than delightful. After three failed marriages and dozens of dates, he was honestly tired of trying. Even one night stands had lost their charm when he had a perfectly good hand.
He’d had more luck back when he was in ‘the lifestyle’ which was perhaps why he bothered coming tonight at all. But truly, he hadn’t been part of ‘the lifestyle’ in the better part of a decade. Still, Dragonstone was one of the first establishments he opened, and still held a special place in his heart, as did its manager—his ex-wife, Mysaria.
She was perhaps the closest woman to him these days, a constant in his life ever since they met almost twenty years ago. They were just friends now, a failed marriage long forgotten and a sexual compatibility looked back with an ancient fondness. Truly, she was one of his few real friends and took it upon herself to bully him into the public eye when he was back in the city.
She was especially insistent about this event. She had called him three times to confirm, so even though he was exhausted, he forced himself to show up—lazily accepting the red wristband that marked him as a dominant, before finding a place in the dimly lit main room. He was a high enough roller to sit in the assigned section, which was nearly empty despite the crowded state of the room.
This event was always popular, even though it ran monthly. It was simply called ‘the auction’ allowing submissives, dominants, and everything in between to put their time, services, and bodies, up to be bid on. Whatever they earned was given to the club as a donation, covering their membership fees for the corresponding length of time. The fact it was a donation meant that at least on paper it wasn’t prostitution, though the legality was a bit questionable.
There were limits to what they could auction off. Things like penetration were up to their own discretion, and of course safe words were used. Really, it was more for those who got off on the objectification of being sold for an evening than those in financially dire circumstances.
It should have been entertaining. Seeing the naked parade of people blushing and squirming as their kinks and limits were revealed. Some were being ‘auctioned’ by their masters, who bragged proudly about their ability to deep throat or take a cock—encouraging people to bid more for the opportunity to use them.
But it had been going on for an hour, and Daemon was finding himself bored. After his wild years—which lasted the majority of his twenties, the allure of simple nudity had worn off. He found himself contemplating leaving when Mysaria appeared, seating herself across from him with her own drink in hand. She didn’t greet him, she simply threw a grin his way before turning in the booth to watch the stage.
Daemon followed her gaze, his eyes landing on a pair of… fuck.
He involuntarily licked his lips.
His first thought was that they looked too young to even be there, but he trusted Mysaria and her ability to check ID’s, so he pushed that thought away.
His second thought was that they were really fucking attractive. They almost looked like a pair of angels, all smooth skin with halos of silver hair. They had full lips, and high cheekbones, with slightly rounded jaws that spoke to their youth. Their eyes were large, but somehow proportionate with their other delicate features. And when they turned, he got a lovely view of their pale asscheeks sticking out of even paler lace. He felt struck dumb by the two, mouth slack as he just stared.
He vaguely heard the auctioneer talking. He heard words like “unowned,” and “inexperienced,” thrown around, which only furthered his interest. He swore he let out a sigh of relief when they were labeled as ‘submissives.’
He was sitting straight up in the booth now attentive in a way he hadn't been earlier. He felt inspired by them, watching them circle the stage with hungry eyes—almost growling when they walked farther away. He felt eager for them to come closer, wishing they would hurry up and start their circuit of the room before bidding began.
“You haven’t had a submissive in years and now you want two?” Mysaria teased, sounding smug. He glared at her, but didn’t disagree.
“Is this why you were so eager for me to attend?” He asked, wondering if he should be offended or flattered by her scheming.
The grin she responded with was an answer enough, and he just sighed.
“They are very sweet.” She said.
“One of your projects?” He asked, and she shrugged.
“I hired them because they are so pretty together.” She admitted, and Daemon’s brow rose. Dragonstone attracted enough clientele that they didn’t need to pay people to entertain guests. But…he supposed they were a phenomenally attractive pair, and just his type he grumbled.
Mysaria had seen the girls—and guys, he gravitated towards in their time together, and the years after. She had often teased him for being drawn to people who looked like him, and this pair was no exception. The blonde hair was a staple of his Valyrian lineage, as were the cheekbones and jawlines.
Fuck, they could be his kids he thought with a shiver of disgust.
Which was followed by a shiver of arousal that he cursed himself for. This thought was so heavy on his mind that he was sure he misheard Mysaria when she said they were siblings.
“Siblings?” He asked, gaping at her. She just grinned, proud of the perverted acquisition that the brother and sister were to her club.
“That just makes it hotter, no?” She asked and his head thudded back against the booth. It did make it hotter, god help him he was gross. “They don't have much experience, they need to be broken in gently.” Mysaria said, peering at him over her glass before taking a sip of wine.
“The girl—Rhaenyra can be bratty, but like all kittens I think after being claimed she will calm down. And the boy, Aegon, he’s a puppy already, he just needs a firm leg to hump against.”
Daemon’s brow rose, “And since when have I been into that?” His tastes were varied, but hardly venturing into anything involving fur.
Mysaria snorted, “Since when haven’t you been into submissive things grinding on your shoes and cock? They have daddy issues, Daemon, and too much repression to call a man that. But they need someone to be sweet to them, that could be you.”
He was surprised by the seriousness in her tone. Sometimes he forgot she actually cared about him. Sometimes he forgot anyone cared about him. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling thick. “You don’t just mean for a night, do you?” He asked her, only for her to sigh.
“A night is a start.” Is what she said before leaving him.
He hadn’t felt lonely before she joined him, but he felt lonely now.
🎀
He bid on the auction.
🎀
He won the auction.
🎀
The paperwork was set in front of him by a staff member, along with a pen and careful instructions. Even though he had a VIP seat to this event and literally owned the club the event took place in, they took this sort of thing seriously. He wasn’t given privileges that could harm the submissive's safety, and he respected that.
He’d been given until the end of the auction—which was thankfully coming to a close, to familiarize himself with their lists and limits, along with what they were offering to their owner for the evening.
It was a remarkably short list, the auctioneer and Mysaria really weren’t kidding—they were fresh. The majority of the boxes on their checklists had ‘never tried it’ ticked, the few options allowed for this evening would put this experience with them in the ‘vanilla’ category if it wasn’t for the fact it happened at a kink club.
It was truly a testament to how fucking cute they were that he was still feeling a stirring beneath his trousers, even without the promise of whips or rope. Not that he really needed those. Well, you might say he needed more than those? Fuck he wasn't sure what he needed at all anymore. He left the lifestyle in part because no facet of it seemed immune to his erectile dysfunction. If it wasn’t going to get him off, why bother? Vanilla sex was way easier.
He stared at his half full glass of whiskey, wondering if he should use it to swallow down one of the pills in his wallet. But when he closed his eyes and thought about the pert breasts of the blonde girl, held up by thin straps of pink elastic, and it suddenly didn’t seem necessary.
He downed the rest of the drink, removing the temptation and ability to take the stupid tablet. If he couldn’t stay hard, it would be fine, he’d make them fuck each other and enjoy the show. And god the thought of that made him hard.
That boded well, at least.
He collapsed back into the booth, closing his eyes and wishing time would pass faster. He tried to relax, but his legs were tense–his foot tapping involuntarily, his thigh shaking as if his body couldn’t stay still for the anticipation. He hadn’t been eager for a fuck like this in…well, years.
With a sigh, he opened his eyes—looking back at the stage. Now that he had made a purchase, he was a little more curious about what—or who else, would be offered. Plus, it served as a bit of distraction as time crawled by, even if none of the merchandise was nearly as exciting—nor as pretty as what he bought.
🎀
His thoughts were on the siblings when he nearly stumbled from his seat with eagerness the minute the auction had officially ended.
The pair had been assigned to a higher end room—Mysaria’s doing, he assumed, and he needed to find an escort before making his way to them.
He found a staff member that could do the job, flashing his ID to confirm his identity. He really did like how seriously they took safety here, even if it added a minute to the time before he could meet his… pets.
He swallowed at that, surprised at how much of a turn on it was. He hadn’t been into that—he still didn’t think he was, not in a “latex hoods and tail plugs” sort of way. More in the…having something to take care of sort of way.
God, most people said that about plants not two people.
Was this a midlife crisis?
Was this his biological clock wanting children?
Did men even have that?
Fuck.
No matter, he felt he was mature enough now to do… this .
Maybe he’d been onto something when he had a girl call him daddy a decade ago, though at the time he enjoyed spanking a lot more than the softer aspects. He wasn’t ashamed of being a bit of a sadist in his youth, but now…well. People change. He was older, and had a gentler hand tempered thanks to years of vanilla sex.
He could be good and gentle for these…whatever they wanted to be called, as long as they were good and gentle for him.
🎀