Work Text:
could be worse, so make it work, no place is perfect
Daemon was a bit embarrassed to admit it took him several months to realize Aegon’s talent—at least in regard to photography. He knew Aegon liked photography, since museums were a surprisingly popular date activity for the trio. Daemon liked the classical paintings and sculptures, Rhaenyra favored the fashion exhibits, and Aegon gravitated to the more modern works and, obviously, photography. Daemon just didn’t realize he actually dabbled in the hobby himself—much less that he was really fucking good at it.
Until then, Daemon wasn’t entirely sure what Aegon was passionate about, or what he wanted to do with his life. And he wasn’t eager to ask or put pressure on the boy to have an answer—he was nineteen. He’d just escaped his parents strict household and was able to live (mostly) the way he wanted for the first time in his life. It was okay in Daemon’s opinion if he didn’t have a focus or goal—it was to be expected, even.
But this made the fact he did have one a surprise to Daemon.
He learned of it while he was on a business trip. Their relationship was a few months old, and pretty fucking solid when it came to like, lust, and trust—at least in Daemon’s humble opinion. So when they asked if they could use his place while he was gone as a backdrop for some photos, he didn’t hesitate to say yes. He was familiar with the pair's side job on the little platform called onlyfans—he subscribed to them both, after all, and was happy to support the endeavor by letting them use his apartment.
It appeared they took him up on it, because on day two of his trip Aegon sent him a photo of Rhaenyra sitting on his couch in lingerie, looking fucking delicious. Daemon was so struck by it he didn’t think much of the fact it was fullscreened on his laptop and very visible to the intern responsible for tidying the conference room Daemon was stationed in between meetings. So he couldn’t entirely blame the guy, even though it was rude, for saying, “Holy fuck, who is that?”
Instead, Daemon dreamily responded, “My girlfriend.”
To which the intern said, “Is she some sort of model?”
“She could be, couldn’t she? But no.” Daemon said, cursing the industry once more for their height requirements.
“Dude, then who is taking the photo?” The intern asked, perhaps a valid concern for most. But Daemon just smiled dopily, “Oh, my boyfriend probably took it.”
He didn’t hear the intern's response—which was an unpleasant strangled choking sound, because he was busy typing out a response to Aegon. He said he missed them and that he looked forward to seeing the other photos—which was true, regardless of the quality. They were photos of Rhaenyra and they would be amazing no matter what.
He was just shocked when the set was posted the following day that they were…classy. Way more erotic and boudoir than outright pornographic like he had expected. And it wasn’t just the fact Rhaenyra had a bra on in most of them, it was the lighting, the posing, the focus, the fact there was a direction and intention with the shoot. It was all far more artistic than the shirtless mirror selfies they usually posted.
He was kind of blown away.
These looked professional, but he knew Aegon took them, which was pretty fucking impressive.
He said as much when he talked to them that evening over facetime—Aegon had gone quiet after he praised him, getting off the call early and leaving Daemon to speak with Rhaenyra alone.
“I didn’t upset him, did I?” Daemon asked, a little worried.
“No–no, the opposite.” Rhaenyra said, “I don’t think he’s ever really been complimented like that about it from someone he respects. Our parents thought it was…too artsy, too feminine? A pointless hobby and a hopeless career prospect. He never got any encouragement for it, so I think that was just a lot for him. But I agree—he’s good! And I’m glad you told him that, too.”
Well, fuck. If he’d never been encouraged to pursue it before then Daemon had years of making up to do, since others had apparently failed him in that regard.
It turned out Rhaenyra had done some work to mitigate his parents' impact. Aegon had been attending the college photography club meetings monthly since moving. He hadn’t had the confidence to join the weekly studio workshops, since he wasn’t a photography major and was worried he’d be excluded. But with some gentle pushing they got him to try going once, and he had enough fun that he kept going back.
When they had a club show being hosted by a gallery as an effort to support young talent, it was Daemon who encouraged him to submit something.
“It won’t get accepted.” Aegon had insisted, and Daemon shrugged, “Then there is no harm in submitting, is there? Worst case, you’re right and you prove me wrong.” He had implored with a kiss. The logic was sound enough that he did submit to the show—selecting a trio of faceless photos of Rhaenyra that Daemon thought were quite brilliant in how they played with shadows and lighting.
He was not at all surprised when they were accepted, and neither was Rhaenyra.
Aegon’s parents however…well, from what Daemon gathered, Aegon casually mentioned it as an accomplishment when visiting them over spring break. Which it was! But they were quick to shoot it down as a waste of time, even acting concerned about it interfering with his studies as opposed to showing any sort of congratulations.
Daemon was livid but somewhat pleased to see that Aegon was undeterred in his interest—perhaps even more interested in it just to spite them. He admitted that he was sort of over caring about their opinions—they were his parents, but they didn’t support him the way Daemon and Rhaenyra did. And their words meant less to him now. Which was such a huge revelation and honor in Daemon’s eyes he could barely speak.
When a bigger show was put on before the end of the semester, Aegon was enthusiastic about applying, opposed to being hesitant like he had been before. The theme was “Touch & Texture” and he was full of ideas, including one that would involve photographing Daemon and Rhaenyra together while focusing on the meeting of skin.
He had promised that the photos would be tasteful, again focusing more on shadows and close ups than anything particularly explicit. His concern for Daemon’s modesty was sweet but he had kindly informed the younger man that his history was sordid enough to involve home videos filmed in the privacy of a bedroom, and orgies that had big enough budgets for a hired photographer.
“It’s been decades, of course—but I’ve never been shy in that regard. And having photographic evidence of me and Rhaenyra together like that—gods.”
He’d already come that day otherwise his dick would definitely be showing interest in the mere prospect. He knew how well she photographed, looking almost angelic with her pretty features and pale hair regardless of her state of dress. Photos of him defiling her, fucking her, having her, would be a gift he would treasure.
Actually taking the photos, however, was a test of his patience and endurance unlike he’d anticipated. Aegon was a perfectionist when it came to setting things up, angles, and lighting. They were often asked to hold poses while he checked previews on a larger screen before returning back and taking more. It was the closest Daemon had come to edging himself since he was in his early twenties and the orgasm that came at the end was equal parts explosive and exhausting.
The photo, however, of his head thrown back, clutching Rhaenyra’s waist while she clawed at his shoulders and bit her own lip to stop from screaming—that made it all worth it.
Unsurprisingly, that photo didn’t make the cut for his submission. True to his word, the ones he picked alluded to what was happening but didn’t show penetration or anything particularly vulgar. They were beautiful—and Daemon was pretty sure that wasn’t his own bias speaking, Aegon would make anyone look beautiful with his talent.
They went out for a nice dinner when he got the email that they were accepted—suits, ties, steaks, the whole nine yards—or that had been the plan. When Daemon went to make the reservation, Aegon admitted he didn’t really have a suit that nice that still fit or something nice enough for that type of occasion.
Daemon had nodded, not entirely surprised even if this hadn’t occurred to him. It would delay the celebration, but he wouldn’t let it stop his plans entirely.
It just meant that Daemon got to enjoy reclining on a cushy leather sofa while his tailor prodded the boy for nearly an hour, mumbling measurements at his assistant. Aegon preened under the older man's praise—which was primarily focused on his form and complexion. One they were finished he said in his heavy accent that Aegon was,, “Jus like a young Mr. Targaryen, no?” . Which made him grin—and Aegon blush.
Daemon unfortunately missed the fitting—but oh boy did he enjoy the fashion show at home. Aegon’s form was complimented perfectly by the impeccably tailored black wool. The pastel hues of his shirt and tie contrasted sharply against the dark jacketing while suiting his fair skin remarkably well.
Daemon considered himself solidly bisexual in his interests, but primarily a ladies man, typically favoring the soft curves and ample chest of a woman over the body of a man. Even in formal wear, that remained true—the plunging necklines and fitted nature of evening gowns offering his eyes a great deal to feast on.
But there was something special about a pretty young man all dressed up—nearly every bit of skin covered in material, so buttoned up and refined. It made his fingers itch to muss them up a little—expose their neck and nip at it. Maybe pull them around a little by their tie. Or leave them looking pristine from below the neck, but grip their hair and drag their mouth to his cock. Let their face flush and lips swell and eyes brighten as they blew him, swallowing every drop of his come before standing and once again becoming the picture of properness.
Yes, there was something special about that—and there was no young man Daemon was more fond of, nor one he considered prettier than his Aegon. So even with seeing him in a suit and tie a week prior—in which they enacted two of those previously mentioned fantasies—he still found resisting the desire to strip him before they made it to the car to be a struggle.
It was not helped by Rhaenyra in her dress—something that managed to be elegant and classically beautiful while exposing a great deal of her chest and cinching in her waist to a degree he hadn’t realized was possible.
She was a tease, jealous over her brothers star treatment, they had gone dress shopping at a series of places Jeyne recommended. It wasn’t as leisurely as the cigar scented shop of his tailor, a man and space he’d known for decades—no, he was on Rhaenyra’s turf here. The minimalist studios only had a few dozen dresses to choose from, but Daemon felt almost desperate to see her in all of them.
He loved seeing her in silk. The fabric was almost as soft as her skin, looking almost luminescent in the low lighting with its subtle sheen.
He loved seeing her in sequins, too. They sparkled like her eyes and made her shine, a physical representation of her personality.
He loved her in spandex, for obvious reasons. The way it clung to every curve and made him painfully aware there was nothing beneath it, so tight it was like a second skin with numerous cutouts that showed skin.
After three stores and at least a dozen dresses, he couldn’t resist—telling the sales lady he would give her five hundred dollars if they left them alone for fifteen minutes. She nodded dumbly, taking the bills from him and scampering away—the door closing behind her.
When Rhaenyra next came out, he surprised her by joining her on the pedestal, kneeling between her legs and telling her the shopping made him hungry—please couldn’t he have a little taste of her?
She agreed, and he eagerly dove beneath the dress.
A little taste turned into two, though, and then she was begging for his cock and he couldn’t deny her that, could he?
He heard a little squeak from behind them—perhaps he had taken a bit longer than fifteen minutes, and perhaps the sales assistant had seen more than she wanted too, oops, but it would be a pity not to finish when they were both so close.
They bought that dress and three others. They didn’t really have a choice, given what they’d done—but Daemon was pretty sure his dry cleaner could get the come stains out.
That had put an end to their shopping trip, and the dress she finally settled on was purchased the following weekend after a trip to the spa with Jeyne. She claimed she had fun, but not as much fun as she had with him.
“I’d hope not, given what we did,” He had teased.
“Well, Jeyne did offer…” She teased right back.
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing—he wouldn’t blame his assistant for flirting. Rhaenyra was magnificent, always, but especially in the gown she ultimately ended up purchasing that day.
With her on one side, and Aegon on his other, It was a hard night—literally and figuratively, but gods it was nice being out with them together. He loved his apartment and having them in private. He loved having them at the club, too. But their relationship never felt more real than when they were together like this and he savored every wonderfully delicious minute of it.
The waiter was clearly confused by the trio but was paid way too much to really care what sort of relationship they shared, and Daemon tipped them handsomely for their discretion. Rhaenyra and Aegon enjoyed the evening too—he could tell as much from their smiles. And he promised before the meal was done that they’d make a habit of going out together more often—to places where clothing stayed on.
Though their next outing was to a club—another property he owned, but one that discouraged nudity and encouraged dancing. Daemon thought it was too loud, and too hot, but he wasn’t going to voice any complaints because if the siblings looked good in formal wear, they looked amazing in the clubwear that left little to the imagination for how tight and low cut it was. By the end of the evening they were all tipsy and taking turns kissing each other in a corner until a bouncer asked them to leave because it was so excessive.
It was a good thing Daemon’s driver didn’t have as many scruples, because he was given a much more explicit show on the car ride home.
Through all of this, they didn’t hear a thing from Aegon’s parents—he hadn’t told them about the show, and they hadn’t shown any signs of being aware of it from what he posted about it on various platforms.
He was excited and a teenager in the mid 2020’s, so he wasn’t exactly discreet in advertising the fact he was part of a gallery on his socials. Daemon didn’t blame him for that—he had no reason to be, really, he didn’t do anything wrong.
Then the show launched—and Aegon posted photos, both of his submissions and of the event itself. What followed was…kind of fucking insane, in Daemon’s eyes. He only knew what Rhaenyra had told him of the conversation, but he gathered Alicent—her step mother, had recognized Rhaenyra’s nipples and silhouetted body from the faceless black and white images.
“She wasn’t thrilled Aegon was witnessing sex at all, but the fact I was part of it? Clearly that meant it was my fault and that I either dragged him into depravity, or somehow forced him into taking those photos against his will. And of me? I’m a slut and disgusting for being in a physical relationship and having it documented like a porn star.”
Rhaenyra’s lip quivered, “She said it’s evidence that I’m a whore, just like she always knew I was.”
She had started crying in earnest then, curling up against him while he tried to comfort her. She didn’t exactly fight his attempts, but she felt stiff in his arms—as if giving into his embrace fully would just further prove her stepmother right. He fucking hated that, that she had made Rhaenyra feel less safe in his arms with her bullshit lies from across the country.
Aegon was still in class when this happened, but the conversation footnotes he eventually shared were…somehow even worse?
“She wants Rhaenyra out of the apartment.” He’d said, his eyes a little red. “Said she doesn’t want me interacting with her at all, she’s a bad influence—they want me to come home. Both of us to come home, because if Rhaenyra commits to it, maybe she can be saved from this path.” Aegon laughed, but it was a bitter sound.
He was pacing—not stilling for even a moment since he entered the apartment, too wound up by anxiety and angst to even consider something like sitting.
“I asked, ‘saved from what?’ And she said sex like it was some fucking sin, and then I said I was having sex too and she got all quiet. She said she hoped I was ‘being careful’ like she hasn’t told me birth control is wrong since I was capable of knowing what that was! She said it was different now that I’m a man now with ‘needs’.”
He shook his head, “If only she fucking knew it was sex with a guy, then I’d be out on my ass too.”
“I’m sorry,” Daemon said, not really sure what else to say. “It’s not supposed to be like this—I hope you know that? Neither of you have done anything wrong. You’re both adults, you’re allowed to be sexually active and have as many partners as you want of whatever gender you desire. Their involvement in this—their judgment, it’s wrong.”
Aegon seemed to deflate a little, finally collapsing onto the coffee table and rubbing his face with his hands. Rhaenyra was curled up by Daemon’s legs—she slipped off his lap, claiming she was ‘too hot’ but that she still wanted to be close to him. Daemon thought it had more to do with feeling stifled than warm, but whatever excuse and position made her the most comfortable was fine with him at that moment.
“I don’t know what to do.” Aegon said—looking younger than he ever had.
In that moment he wasn’t an adult, he was just a kid that wanted his parents to love him. A kid that didn’t fit inside the box of what his parents were willing to love. Daemon was sure this wasn’t the first time they were confronted with that reality—but he imagined the harsh reminder really hurt.
And the fact they cared more about punishing Rhaenyra than her safety was just…the cherry of despicability on top of it all. The fact they would push her out of her home because they couldn’t deal with her being sexually active? It was baffling. They’d literally rather she be homeless than behaving like a normal girl in her early twenties.
And not that it would change Daemon’s opinion—he thought a parents love should be pretty fucking unconditional—but Rhaenyra and Aegon were so good. Like, shockingly good given how strict and fucked up their parents were. They got good grades, they weren’t big into drinking or partying and their drug tests for the club always came back clean. They may have publicized their sexual activity in unusual ways via the club, onlyfans, and the gallery—but he was literally their first partner. There was nothing wrong with being promiscuous—or slutty or whatever you wanted to call it, but Rhaenyra wasn’t. Why her stepmother of all people was so quick to jump to that conclusion was just…infuriating.
Daemon sighed, looking back at Rhaenyra and then Aegon—this wasn’t the time for him to admit he loved them, but fuck he did. So much. And they were so easy to love! The fact their parents couldn’t see that—or if they saw that and put stipulations on it anyway—well, it was a fucking tragedy. Their parents clearly didn’t deserve them, but they didn’t deserve this hurt like this, either.
“I wish I could tell you what to do.” Daemon said, “But it’s your life—they are your parents, it’s your decision. If there is anything I can do, though, I want to do it—I want to be there for you both.”
He felt Rhaenyra shift—stretching her shoulders and arms before gripping the table and pulling herself up. “I think—maybe we should go to our apartment and talk about it?” Rhaenyra said—her words directed towards Aegon, who nodded.
Daemon didn’t want them to go. He wanted them to stay. Because if they left they might not come back. And that was just—no—he swallowed the lump the mere thought created in his throat. But he meant what he said too, this was something that concerned them, if he intervened in the relationship they had with their parents they would likely all end up regretting it. So as much as it hurt, he let them gather their books and bags, things that they would need if they didn’t return that weekend.
Rhaenyra said, “We just have some stuff to figure out—I’ll call you.” paired with a gentle kiss before she left. Aegon had followed suit, and when the door shut it felt quite…final.
That was last night. And now at 9:32 AM he was sitting in his office with a very silent phone and no word from the pair.
Daemon might not have known for sure what was happening—but he could guess. From what they said their parents were manipulative and valued appearances over all else. They wouldn’t want to disown two children—there would be questions. So they would try to rein them in, until they were close enough to prevent them from ‘misbehaving’—at least publicly.
He knew Rhaenyra and Aegon didn’t want to leave the city, and they especially didn’t want to live under the same roof as their parents. But they were financially dependent on them—they paid for school, their apartment, and held the access to their trusts until they were twenty-five—still years away for them both. He imagined that was their parents' main bargaining chip—it wasn’t love that would ultimately bring them home, it was the fear of being homeless.
He could pay for all of it. He was certain of it. But he didn’t want to be their new keeper—didn’t want them to feel beholden to him like they did their parents. He didn’t want them to be afraid of him, or at least afraid of displeasing him simply because he might take it all away. Their relationship had enough imbalances already in terms of age and finances, and though they had managed to work through them with relative ease, he was pretty sure doling out weekly checks and becoming their bonafide sugar daddy on top of it all was a bad idea.
In the end, it came down to the fact that he didn’t want them to choose between their parents and him. He wanted them to choose between their parents and themselves. But they couldn’t do that without help, he didn’t think. They had a few hundred subscribers on onlyfans between them, but that wouldn’t even cover their rent in this city—or if it would, it would be just barely. And he was pretty sure the paycheck from the club wouldn’t be much help, either.
Daemon wasn’t sure how long it took to set up a private scholarship—but it was probably pretty quick when you were in the same master’s program as the Chairman's son. And by master’s program Daemon absolutely meant the kind involving collars, not certificates. They’d literally rubbed not just shoulders but cocks for fucks sake, if that didn’t get him a phone call with his father Daemon didn’t know what would.
.
Two hours later a very nice woman named Martha was finishing up the submission, clarifying that he was sure he wanted that big a fund for room and leisure? Was he sure he wanted it anonymous? Was he sure he wanted there to be no GPA or character guidelines that could lead to it being withheld?
“I want it underlined, actually—that there is no way this can be revoked by any party once it has been applied to a student's account” There was a loud sigh, and then the sound of typing. He transferred his fax number and walked the paperwork to his lawyer himself. It was a relatively short document, and a top priority. So important that he told his employee he’d wait while it was looked over.
“This is a terrible agreement—anyone awarded this could skip every class, and still have their tuition and twice the average monthly rate for housing covered in full. They could get arrested, out on bail, and still receive those benefits as long as they aren’t expelled from the student body.”
Daemon smiled, “Great—it sounds perfect.”
He called Martha back, asked Jeyne to handle the courier that would get the notice of their new financial aid to the siblings within an hour.
He’d done what he could—now he would do some real work and try to distract himself.
.
It was Rhaenyra who called, “You didn’t have to do that. “ She said instead of hello.
“Didn’t have to do what?” He replied, playing dumb.
She snorted, “You really didn’t—we want to stay, we were trying to figure it out.”
“I want you to stay too, of course. But—I didn’t do this to pressure you into that. I did it so you wouldn’t feel pressure to leave.” He said.
“We can’t pay this back, Daemon.” She said seriously, though she didn’t exactly sound mad.
“You can buy me dinner sometime and we’ll call it even.”
“Daemon,” She said exasperatedly.
God how could he say this without sounding like an ass?
“Rhaenyra—that money means nothing to me. I wasn’t trying to buy you, I was trying to free you. I was paying the bail that kept you wrongly imprisoned by the corrupt system that is your parents. It was the expense of justice, not something I ever expected to be repaid.” He paused, thinking for a moment. It was so fucking tricky to describe this.
“It was an act separate from our relationship, I don’t want it to impact us. But it was motivated by how much I’ve come to care for you two. And I care so much—I—selfishly, I couldn’t watch you suffer like that when I knew there was a way to fix it. All I want to do is make life better for you sweetheart, not make you beholden to me.”
Her voice was a little shaky, “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course, princess.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then, “Can we come over tonight?”
Fuck he might actually cry, “Of course. Or right now. Or tomorrow. Whenever you want to be there, I want to have you there.”
She laughed, “Even if Aegon and I fuck in your bed while your at work?”
He groaned at the thought, “Especially if you and Aegon fuck in my bed while I’m at work. Getting home and having my sheets smell like you two? The bedroom smelling like sex with the culprits still naked? That’s what dreams are made of, princess.”
He swore her laugh soothed his soul. And he bit his lip when they said goodbye, keeping the words he couldn’t say just yet tucked away.
He thought them, though, because how could he not?
I love you both.
He was late getting home that night, but since he hadn’t heard from Rhaenyra or Aegon he assumed they decided to take another night to themselves—and he was respecting that, or trying to. But his alarm had been turned off, which was a sign they might have dropped by, and when he walked into his room, he saw them.
The room was dark, but light poured in from the window since the drapes had been left open. He could see their silhouettes and the glow of pale skin against dark sheets—a few bare limbs exposed, hinting that they were both naked beneath the rumpled covers.
The room didn’t quite smell like sex–well, not yet at least. There was an easy fix to that, he thought, as he moved closer to the pretty blondes that had taken residence in his bed. They were sleeping—arms wrapped around each other, looking so very peaceful in their slumber.
He realized that they probably didn’t get much rest last night—he certainly hadn’t. Far too anxious to go to bed at his usual hour, he had stayed up working until he was too tired to resist his body's need for sleep.
And so he stroked Rhaenyra’s cheek gently, before leaving the room as quietly as he could. He was going to eat dinner, shower, and then join them in bed. Not for sex, but for sleep.
But truly, he couldn’t wait. Because even being able to lay beside them was a gift he wouldn’t take for granted. And truly, it was almost as appealing as sex in that moment.
Whether that was a testament to his love for them…or a testament to how tired he was, he wasn’t sure.
But when he curled himself around Rhaenyra a half hour later, he had never been more sure that he loved them.