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The tourney at Ashford Meadow had been organised with the intention of celebrating Lord Ashford’s daughter’s thirteenth name day, but it also had another cause. The royal family was looking for something, rather someone capable enough to wed the price Aerion. A champion, who had the strength to prove that he was worth the prince’s hand.
And the prince himself thought that that was noting more than bullshit.
Ever since he was a kid, Prince Aerion had been, how to say it? Difficult.
Maekar had always described his second born as a difficult child to deal with. He never stood still and ever since he was a kid he showed some kind of cruelty to other people; whenever he trained he did it violently, hurting his opponents even tho they had already yielded, he was mean to his brothers and sisters, but Maekar used to think that was only because they were children. But as he grew older this acts also grew. And it only got worse when he got his designation. An omega.
It was uncommon for the Targaryen family to have an omega member, and mostly a male one.
The servants secretly called it envy. They used to whisper that it was because he had grown up with his brother Daeron and his cousin Valarr who were both alphas, so they said that he was jealous because he couldn’t be a warrior, instead he had to marry a highlord or maybe a member of his family.
After Aerion got his designation, Baelor and Maekar thought about betrothing Aerion and Valarr, but they realised that it was not going to work. The day Aerion got the news he enraged and completely refused. He said that Valarr was not worth of him, of the dragon and he even threatened to kill the boy in his sleep if he ever got to marry him. So they decided to cancel the engagement.
So now they were here, at Ashford Meadow to celebrate a name day and to look for someone worth of the prince.
Aerion thought that it was useless, that nobody was worth of him because he was the dragon. He would be the one that brought the dragons back. He was the chosen one and all those knights could try to win his hand but they weren’t going to get it. He wouldn’t permit it. He was above them all.
After a long ride from Kings Landing the arrived at Ashford Meadow, and the first thing his father did was take is best men and go out there to look for Aegon and Daeron. A total waste of time in Aerion’s opinion. Daeron spent his whole days getting drunk in some low-class taverns to avoid thinking about his dreams, and Aegon would be dead by now if he was at Daeron’s charge. He didn’t care, he had better things to think about.
He arrived at the outside of the stables and saw a giant of a man standing there.
“Boy stop gaping, see to my horse”
The other man cleared his throat “I-I’m not a stable boy m’lord”
“Not clever enough?” If he weren’t a stable boy then why would he be standing there looking as if he was waiting for someone to give him a command?
“Well if you can’t manage horses, the fetch me some wine and a pretty wench”
“Oh, m’lord pardons, I-I’m not a serving man either” he had a little smile on his face as if he was someone important.
“I have the honor to be a knight”
When he said that, Aerion had already gotten off his horse and turned to look properly at him. Gods he was huge, a huge alpha. Aerion had to look up if he wanted to see the man’s face.
“Oh, well knighthood has fallen on sad days”
He left without letting the ‘knight’ say anything. So apparently he was going to participate on the tourney, did he had any idea of the price for the champion? Aerion thought that he wouldn’t care if it was him the alpha that won the tournament. But of course a hedge knight didn’t stand a chance to win. Not while he was doing to compete.
Omegas weren’t allowed to participate in jousts or tournaments, but he wasn’t just an omega. He was part of the royal family and he was the dragon, so of course that didn’t apply to him. He was going to compete for his own hand, and he was going to win it. Of course his father wouldn’t allow it, so he was going to joust under a made up name. He wouldn’t wear his usual armour or helmet, he was going to use some armour anybody could afford, without sigils of dragons. It was a smart plan, and he knew he could do it because he had been trained to fight ever since he was kid, when he was a prince and not an omega prince, and he wasn’t going to lie, he liked being an omega. That only proved what he wanted to prove, that he was capable of doing things only alphas were allowed to and that he really was the chosen one. Why would the Gods make him the only male omega since the dragons died if he wasn’t the chosen one? being the only omega in a family of alphas meant something, it was a signal.
He wouldn’t joust the first day, so he had to watch the other knights compete. It was boring, having to watch all these pathetic men who thought that had a chance of being worth of him. Some of them even dared to ask for his favor, as if he was going to give it to them. there was this knight who came to him, lifted his lance and waited for Aerion to give him the flower crown. Aerion extended his hand as if to offer the crown, and the knight’s lace lifted even more. And then Aerion withdrew it
“I’ve changed my mind, my favor is not so cheaply won”.
He saw how the knight’s face turned red as he commanded his horse to move and start the joust. He lost, and it was obvious that he would with or without Aerion’s favor.
———
The next morning he commanded the servants to tell his father that he was feeling unwell and order not to be bothered under no circumstances. When he didn’t hear the maids anymore, he left the room and walked to the zone with all the tents. He had prepared one the day before with all his belongings, he closed it and made it look cheap, as if it was some poor man’s tent. Inside he put his armour along with his helmet, both were extremely simple. Then, he left the tent with his helmet on and went to look for is squire, it was some 13 year old boy he found trying to steal some bread, so he decided to pay him to be his squire. He told the boy that if he dared to tell anyone who he was he would tie him to his horse bare feet on his way back to King’s Landing.
He got on his horse and waited for his turn to joust. Before him, the hedge knight had just won his joust, making the public scream for him. He didn’t think the brute was such a good thing.
And the the herald announced him
“Ser Aeryn Pyre” he didn’t care for his opponents name, it wasn’t important because he would win.
The herald’s trumpet blared, and the opposing knight charged, hope blazing in his eyes. Aerion lowered his lance with effortless precision. The two collided with a thunderous crack, the enemy staggering and toppling from his saddle before dust had fully risen. Not a bead of sweat marred Aerion’s brow; he reined his horse with the same elegance he might have reserved for a royal feast.
The crowd erupted, cheering and gasping, but Aerion’s gaze swept over them, cool and detached, as if the victory had been expected from the moment he was born. He raised his lance in a slow, deliberate salute, letting every whisper of awe and envy settle over the lists. Effortless. Absolute. Undeniable. But he didn’t take his helmet off.
The same afternoon he jousted again. That joust hadn’t been as short as the first one but he won it. Once again the crowd cheered for him, the faceless winner. Aerion was waiting for the moment when he took his hemet off and showed everybody that he had won his own hand.
When he fought his last combat of the day he went to the tent, left his armour there and went back to the castle with a tunic over his head so nobody could see his platinum hair. Back in the castle, he ordered a bath and went to have dinner with his family and lord Ashford.
“So what did I miss today? Has anyone proved to be worth of my hand yet?” His father gave him a dirty look, because he hated that Aerion thought of himself better.
“There were a couple of good knights yes, specially one that didn’t show his face. Ser Aeryn Pyre his name is, but they call him the faceless winner” his uncle Bealor spoke.
“Interesting”
———
The next day he attended the jousts in the morning and after eating he said that he was tired of all that and that he was going to go for a swim at the lake. Once again he order that he didn’t want anyone to follow him.
Three jousts he won that day. The crowd loved him and at this point he already was in the finals. He just had to see who would be his opponent.
And then he saw that the hedge knight was the one jousting. So he stopped his route and stood with the crowd with the hood over his hair. He wanted to watch the hedge knight properly.
The lists were alive with the roar of the crowd, the banners snapping sharply in the wind. Aerion Targaryen, watched with the calm calculation of a predator assessing prey. His lips curved faintly, he had seen many knights, but this one, Duncan the Tall, seemed almost… ordinary.
The trumpet blared. Duncan lowered his lance and charged with a steady, measured stride, each movement precise. His mount obeyed like an extension of his own body, armored legs thundering against the packed earth. Aerion’s eyes narrowed, curious despite himself.
The opposing knight surged to meet him, lance leveled high. The impact rang like thunder, but the brute remained unshaken, guiding his horse with unerring skill. In a heartbeat, the other knight was pitched from his saddle, rolling across the dust as the tall squire reined smoothly to a stop. Not a single motion seemed wasted, not a hint of strain or panic.
Aerion’s lips twitched, not a smile, but the barest acknowledgment. Impressive, his mind whispered, though he would never admit it aloud. The crowd erupted, and yet his attention remained fixed, analyzing, measuring. This hedge knight, this brute, had something few born to gold and titles ever possessed: true mastery in motion, effortless and absolute.
For the first time in the lists that day, Aerion felt a spark of something he rarely allowed himself: respect.
What a pity, he thought. If he weren’t fighting for his own hand he wouldn’t mind having to be wed to this man. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because he was going to win. He was the dragon and he would bring pride to himself and to his house.
After having dinner once again with is family he went to his temporal chambers, he got on the bed and while he waited the sleep to come for him he though about the brute.
Ser Duncan the Tall. The knight was enormous and had a strength Aerion almost envied. He was an alpha and the body proper of an alpha, a good one. And he had shown skills, almost as if he was worth of the dragon. Just almost, because nobody was more worth of the dragon than the dragon himself. He knew that. He imagined what would happen if he had to wed the giant, how would they consume the marriage? Giving the boy’s size he had to be enormous and Aerion had never taken anything bigger than a couple of his own fingers. Would it hurt much? Aerion liked a bit of pain but only as long as he could stand it. And he didn’t notice how thinking of the boy’s cock his own had gotten rock hard and his entrance was leaking slick. What was wrong with him? He was a prince, a dragon, he couldn’t get hard thinking about some hedge knight. He tried to sleep and avoid thinking about it but his body was really craving it to the point that it urged and hurt. So he did what he had wanted to do since he saw the brute for the first time at the stables.
He lowered his hand to his breeches and touched his cock, hard rock and already leaking pre-come. He couldn’t help a little whimper to come out of his mouth when he thought about the brute on that horse, pushing the other knight from his horse. He thought both the boy’s thighs, Gods those thighs looked huge when he was on top of his horse, they were pure muscle. By the thought of that, Aerion lowered his hand to touch his slick soaked entrance and he pushed a finger inside. He started a rhythm with his finger that later turned in two fingers. He scissored himself and later he added a third one, he was full and lost in pleasure. He finished the moment he touched is cock and thought about having the knight on top of him. Panting, he waited for his climax to calm down and cleaned himself. He didn’t want to think about what he had just done so he pulled the covers and furs over him and fell asleep.
Tomorrow would be a good day.
———
The next morning his father came to his chambers to make sure Aerion went to watch the tourney, and that’s when Aerion’s plan started
“Aerion I will not repeat this again, move!”
He was shouting because Aerion had locked the door so his father could not come inside his chambers
Aerion shouted from the inside of the room
“Father!” he snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“I will not lend my presence to such a… farce! My honor is not a trinket to be sell in this tournament”
“Aerion, enough of this temper! You will attend the tournament as is proper for a prince of the blood. You do not decide what is farce and what is duty.”
“I am a Targaryen! Not some whore to be sold! If I attend, it will seem I approve of this… this mockery. My virtue, my name, my very presence, it is not to be cheapened!”
Maekar’s voice hardened. “A prince does not pick and choose which duties to obey. Your pride blinds you. I will not have you hiding behind theatrics while the crown is meant to be seen, honored, and respected!”
“You are my son, Aerion, not a child of your own making. Do you think your clever words can excuse defiance? I will not suffer it.”
Aerion rated his voice “Then suffer it, father. For my honor, my skill, and my name… I will not be yoked to expectation alone.”
He didn’t dared contradict him. And in truth, only Aerion knew the lists where he would ride under a false name, lances leveled not for duty, but for his own prideful amusement.
Maekar let out a long, resigned sigh. “Very well,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority still. “If you will not attend the lists, then… do not. Your choice. The engagement will endure, Aerion, with or without your presence.” And with that he hear his father leave.
And as Aerion swept from the room, cloak swirling, no one could know the truth: the prince would still attend the joust under another name, his lance leveled not for duty, but for the thrill of the game,and the triumph of his pride.
The lists were alive with the roar of the crowd, banners snapping sharply in the morning wind. Knights clattered into place, and trumpets blared their shrill summons. Among them, a stranger in a plane armour with no sigil, mounted his steed with a quiet confidence that drew curious glances. Aerion Targaryen, had taken measures to ensure no one recognised him; here, he was no Targaryen, just another knight among many.
Ser Duncan the Tall adjusted his grip on his lance, helmet glinting in the sun. His armor was also plain, but he sat his horse like he had been born to the saddle. The crowd’s murmurs were hushed with anticipation; two formidable riders were about to meet.
The herald raised his trumpet. A single blast echoed across the lists, and both knights surged forward. Dust swirled beneath their hooves, the sound of pounding iron and the hiss of wind around lances sharp in every ear. Dunk’s lance was steady, true, guided by a body and mind practiced in countless tilts. Aerion lowered his own with the same precision, eyes locked on the target.
The first pass rang like thunder. Dunk struck solidly against Aerion’s shield, but the black-and-gold rider met the impact with unshakable balance, leaning subtly, his lance guided with the instinct of a predator. Aerion’s steed shifted beneath him, absorbing the force, and the momentum carried him past Duncan, both men alive in the saddle, neither yielding. The crowd gasped and cheered at the sheer skill of both knights.
On the second pass, Aerion’s skill became undeniable. He adjusted his aim, reading Dunk’s stance as if he could see his thoughts, anticipating each tilt of the lance. Their impact cracked across shields, splintering a plank here, rattling a strap there. Dunk forced him slightly back, testing the prince’s steadiness, and for a heartbeat, Aerion’s pride flared, he would not be bested, even here, under a borrowed name.
By the third pass, the duel had become a dance of deathless precision. Dunk’s height and reach gave him leverage; he jabbed and angled to unseat the masked prince. Aerion met every move, lance striking true, horse obeying his every subtle shift. A collision mid-lists sent a shock through the crowd, dust rising in clouds, helmets clattering, and yet both remained mounted, alive, hearts hammering behind steel.
On the final pass, Aerion made his move. He feigned a slight misalignment, drawing Duncan’s response, then pivoted sharply, chest forward, lance thrust with a speed that left the onlookers breathless. Dunk staggered under the blow, his own lance splintered and sent skittering across the lists. The tall knight rolled in the dust, but gracefully, rising to his knees and tipping his helmet in acknowledgment of his opponent’s skill.
Aerion reined in his mount with a fluid motion, the cloak swirling like dragon wings. He raised his lance in a slow, deliberate salute, letting the crowd see his victory, but not his identity. Cheers erupted around the lists, the sound of admiration, awe, and envy blending into one. Even Duncan, rising steadily, allowed a small nod, respect gleaming in his eyes.
Aerion’s chest swelled with pride beneath the mask. He had ridden, he had proven his skill, and no Targaryen sigil had given him advantage. Here, under this borrowed name, he had won on merit alone. And yet, in the shadows of the lists, the prince’s mind churned with the satisfaction of secret triumph: none could know, none could claim it. He had bested a knight as capable as Dunk the Tall, and the victory, utterly his, would remain his alone.
“Here we have the winner of the tournament, Ser Aeryn Pyre! Take off your helmet ser” the herald shouted.
And the moment when Aerion took his helmet off, everybody gasped.
“I Aerion Targaryen, have just won my own hand, and I will not be betrothed to anybody!”
Everything was in complete silence. No one said noting and Aerion could feel his father’s furious gaze o him. He didn’t have the proud smirk Aerion had on his face.
“Whats the matter father, am I not worth enough of myself? A dragon does not bow to mice.”
That being said, he left the place and headed back to the castle. Only that the moment he was heading his chamber his father intercepted him.
They entered a room and his uncle was already there, along with the hedge knight, what was he doing there?
The chamber door slammed with a force that rattled the windows. Aerion turned, cloak still dusted with the remains of the lists, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Father,” he said smoothly, masking the rush of triumph, “I—”
“Silence!” Maekar’s voice boomed, silver hair bristling as he stormed forward. “Do you think me a fool, Aerion?” His hands clenched, knuckles white. “Do you think I cannot see through your petty masquerade?”
Aerion straightened, lifting his chin, eyes cool and proud. “I… rode, yes,” he admitted, though his voice carried no hint of guilt. “I chose to test myself in the lists. It was… a trial of skill, to prove who was worth of me”
Maekar’s eyes flashed, and he advanced, the banners above the solar trembling in the shadow of his fury. “A trial? A trial! You have broken the rules of the crown! You are a prince, Aerion, not some hedge knight to sneak under a false name! Do you understand the insult? The scandal?”
Aerion’s smile remained faint, almost amused. “Father, the lists do not care for names or sigils. Skill alone decides the victor.”
Maekar’s voice rose, sharp as a blade. “Skill alone? You defied me, the crown, and every law of propriety! Do you understand the audacity of this?” He strode to the dais, pacing like a storm contained within stone walls. “You risked life and honor, and for what? For vanity? For pride?”
Aerion’s cloak swirled as he shifted, meeting Maekar’s fury with unflinching gaze. “It is not vanity,” he said, voice calm but firm, “nor pride alone. A Targaryen must know the weight of his strength. I have tested mine, and found it true. I am a price, and I deserve somebody worth of me, someone proper not someone like him!” He said as he pointed at the brute.
And then he felt it, his father’s hand slapped him hard and with discipline, just as when he was a kid. He could taste the blood on his lips where his father’s ring had hit him.
Maekar stopped, breath heavy, fists clenched at his sides. His silver eyes blazed, fury coiling like a dragon ready to strike. “You will never ride in lists again without my leave!” he thundered. “Do you hear me, Aerion? Never!”
“Yes father”
“And you will do your duty, which is marring the champion of the tournament!”
“Father I believe I am the champion of the tournament, I fought for my own hand and I won”
“You are not the champion Aerion, it is not allowed for an omega to participate in such events, so your place in the tournament has to be cancelled. You will marry Ser Duncan here” it was his uncle who spoke now.
“You expect me to marry this brute here? Who is he? He is nobody and I am the dragon”
“Silence! I shall not hear anything else from you. You are my son and you will do as I command! And correct me if I’m wrong but we have already discussed what would happen if you don’t marry”
“We have father” the other option wasn’t an option at all to Aerion. He would be a silent sister if he didn’t give an heir to the House Targaryen.
“So you will do as you’re told. Ser Duncan here has proven to be an excellent warrior and he will be your husband when we get back at King’s Landing”
“You are excused Aerion” His uncle’s words wreathe last thing that was said.
Aerion stormed into his chambers, the door slamming behind him with a thunderous crash that made the tapestries flutter. His cloak trailed like black smoke, and every muscle in his body hummed with fury. He pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall and groaned, teeth clenched. The sting of stone against skull barely mattered; it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him.
Why? Why does this enrage me so? he thought, pressing harder, tasting the iron tang of his own frustration. Duncan… the Tall… the hedge knight the realm deemed suitable… and yet every time Aerion imagined the thought of marrying him, heat surged in his chest like wildfire. He is not the worst. Far from it. He is… capable, honorable, strong… And that realization twisted inside him, sharper than any lance.
He tore back from the wall, pacing in wide, furious circles. Fists clenched, he kicked a chair across the room, the wood splintering under the force, and muttered through gritted teeth. “I will not… I will not bow! I will not be yoked to this… this” He paused, struck by his own words, and spat them into the stone floor. “This… competent man?”
Aerion struck the wall again, harder this time, and the echo rolled like thunder. Pain flared across his skull, but the ache was nothing next to the humiliation he felt at his own hesitation. I cannot want this… and yet, I cannot deny he is not… unworthy. The thought made him shake with rage at himself. Pride flared in his chest, cold and sharp. No. I will not. I will not.
He tore down another chair, letting it crash across the floor, then spun and slammed his fists against the wall. The stones rang beneath his blows. Why must my body betray me with anger and my mind betray me with reason? He sank to his knees for a moment, forehead pressed against the cool stone, hands trembling. His heart thundered; the thought of Duncan being… acceptable burned like poison.
Aerion rose abruptly, pacing again, swearing beneath his breath. “I am a Targaryen! I bend to no man! I bow to no duty but my own!” He struck the wall once more, then ran his hands through his hair, his chest heaving. “And yet… and yet…” The words faltered, unbidden. He is strong, he is honorable, he is… not the worst. And still… I will not marry him. I… I cannot.
He pressed his forehead to the wall again, softer this time, leaning heavily, closing his eyes. Anger, pride, confusion, and fear warred inside him, a tangle of fire and shadow. I will not be bound. I will not be caged. Not even by this… by this… good man. The thought made him bite his lip until it bled slightly. He gritted his teeth and shoved himself back upright.
Aerion’s eyes blazed with defiance. “Let the world judge him worthy! Let them praise his skill! Let them see his honor!” He slammed his fists once more against the stone, sending tremors through the floor. “I… I will not! Not my choice! Not my name! Not my life!”
The room was silent save for his ragged breathing, the splintered wood, and the ache in his head. Pride, fury, and fear churned in him like a storm, and even as the pain throbbed, he knew he would not yield. Duncan might be everything a man could wish for… but Aerion would never surrender himself to another, not even to the “perfect” match.
And so he stood, chest heaving, eyes blazing, leaning once more against the cold wall for support, every muscle taut. Rage and defiance burned brighter than the ache in his skull. He would not marry. He could not. Nothing — neither honor, nor reason, nor the skill of Duncan the Tall — would make him bend.
He fell asleep after crawling to the bed between pain and confusion.
———
When they arrived at King’s Landing Aerion went straight to his personal chambers without saying nothing to nobody. During the ride back to their home, his father had told him that the wedding would be the same night they arrived and that he had to prepare with the maidens. He had to look presentable to his future husband.
His husband… Ser Duncan the Tall who would now be Ser Duncan Targaryen as he would take Aerion’s last name. Why couldn’t he just hate his husband? Why did he had to find him a good knight and handsome? He didn’t want to think about the other man like that, but his husband really was handsome.
The night came and with it the wedding. It wasn’t going to be a Valyrian wedding as his husband wasn’t a part of the blood of the dragon. And standing there, next to his husband while the septon talked about the sacred vows of the union, he smelled the alpha. He smelled like a river flowing, sunflowers and freshly cut grass, it was mesmerising. And Aerion thought that maybe he could get used to it. And he had been so distracted thinking about his husband’s smell that he forgot what the septon had been saying.
“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”
“Father, smith, warrior, mother maiden, crone, stranger”
“I am his and he is mine… from this day until the end of my days”
Duncan turned to look ant him with a special shine in his eyes and lowered himself to kiss the prince.
When the knight kissed Aerion he felt something he had never felt before. He felt right, home.
After the ceremony there was a feast, where lords came to wish the couple a happy marriage with a lot of pups. Aerion had thought about pups, little dragons running everywhere and now he knew they would be big dragons as the father was such a huge man. He liked the idea.
The feast passed quickly. Aerion didn’t eat much, he wasn’t hungry he was just thinking about what would happen now. The bedding. And while he talked to his husband he couldn’t help but remember what he had done the other night in is chambers thinking about this man. He felt the heat on his face.
And then the time came. The exited the room and went to Aerion’s chambers. There Ser Duncan looked at him, he just looked, he didn’t touch. Aerion decide that he wanted to be the one in charge and that he couldn’t wait to have his handsome husband inside him. So he sat the man in his bed and then sat on his lap. They were almost the same height now and Aerion couldn’t wait anymore so he took Duncan’s face between his hands and kissed him. It wasn’t a rough kiss, it was calm and slow, he wanted to savour ir calmly.
It was Duncan who slid his tongue into Aerion’s mouth making him moan. While he kissed the prince he started touching him, first his neck, his back, his waist and finally he took Aerion’s ass in his huge hands, it was as if they were made to be there and only there. And he started to move Aerion’s body on top on him, Aerion could fell how with every second that passed Duncan’s cock grew harder and bigger just like his. He broke the kiss and looked at Dunk’s face, he had a pair of beautiful blue eyes and his nose was covered with freckles, it was cute. He took his husband’s shirt and tossed it aside, he didn’t care where it landed, he needed to see this man’s body or he was going to go mad. The Gods knew what they were doing when they created this man, and they also knew what they were doing when they made him participate at that tournament. Now he was only Aerion’s.
He took his own shirt and moaned when Duncan grabbed the bulge on his pants. He could feel the man staring at him, at his body. He had an omegas body, but he was also strong and defined due to his training. Duncan moved Aerion so he was lying on his back and he lowered his face to kiss his husband’s torso. He left marks everywhere and when he took the prince’s nipple on is mouth Aerion let a loud moan out.
“Duncan… please…”
And Duncan did what he knew he had to do, he took Aerion’s pants out and admired his naked body. It was perfect and he could feel how his omega’s scent grew sweeter, gardenia, ashes and plums, it was addicting. He lowered his face and started le leave kisses on Aerion’s thighs, playing with him until he saw the pleading look on the boy’s face and he finally took the prince’s cock in his mouth, where he set a rhythm to please his omega. The boy was moaning out loud and he was pulling Dunk’s hair, and when he felt one of Duncan’s fingers passing his rim he let out a loud whimper.
“Yes, yes, yess. God’s I’ve been dreaming of this for too long”
Duncan came up to is face and kissed him so Aerion could taste himself in the other man’s mouth.
“How is that my prince? Tell me” He said as he left kisses all over Aerion’s jaw and neck.
“I’ve been dreaming of your cock ever since the day I saw you joust.”
“The day I realised you wouldn’t be such a bad option, and I fucked myself thinking of you”
Duncan moaned and let a low ‘fuck’ leave his lips, and the he kissed the prince again.
He started opening him with his fingers, and Aerion was drenched in slick so Duncan put no effort in opening him. He first used one single finger, and then he added another one scissoring and curving them so he could find that spot inside Aerion that would make him see the stars. By the time he had four fingers inside Aerion, the prince grabbed his arm and begged him.
“Please Dunk, fuck me… I need it please”
He gave him a kiss on the cheek and pulled his pants down revealing his cock, aching and red at the tip.
“Gods I knew it… I knew it would be huge” He moaned as he took Dunk’s neck to kiss him hard and messy, full of pleasure.
Duncan took his own cock and led it to Aerion’s hole, it was pink covered in slick and clenching around nothing, desperate just for Duncan.
“Do it now please I beg you! I need you, I need your cock. Fill me with it, with your knot and your pups, I want them please Duncan!”
Gods, the boy was desperate, so all Dunk could do was please his husband.
“As you wish love”
He took his cock and slowly entered the boy who could do anything but moan and beg for more. He set a rhythm entering the boy, he felt in heaven, the boy was so tight around him as if he had been made to take his cock and Dunk loved it. He loved how Aerion felt, how he moaned his name, how he smelt and how he looked. Gods Aerion was beautiful, the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and now he was only his.
Then he left the prince, this one looked at him confused about why did Dunk stop. He kissed the boy once again slowly and then he turned him so he was now all in fours showing his ass to Duncan who couldn’t help the temptation to slip his tongue inside of the boy, just to taste him. Aerion was squirming under him, moaning and babbling things about him and his cock.
When he entered his husband once again he knew he had found that spot that made Aerion see the stars.
“Gods Duncan there, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop”
And of course he didn’t stop, he continued to do it until he felt the knot at the base of his cock.
“I’m almost there Aerion, i-i’m going to come”
“Mark me Dunk, make me fully yours please”
He sunk his teeth in Aerion scent gland and he finally made him his, the he took Aerion’s cock in his hand and started to jerk the boy off.
“Inside do it inside, knot me please! I want your pups inside me!”
That made it for Duncan, the image of Aerion all round carrying his babies made him pop his knot inside the prince. And with his knot Aerion came in his hand with a loud moan.
Duncan stood still for a second d trying to calm his breath, but then he realized that if he completely relaxed he would crush Aerion with his body, so he laid on his back and he took the prince by the waist and put him on top of him while giving him a sweet kiss.
“How does my dragon feel? Did I hurt you love?” While he said that he started to draw imaginary lines in Aerion’s back and he felt the boy purring.
“I’m really glad you won that tournament Duncan, you truly were the best option” there was a calm tone in his voice and right after kissing sweet, he bit down on Dunk’s scent gland making him his.
————-
Moths passed and now, in the garden of the red keep Aerion sat next to his husband who was caressing his round belly.
“I know it is a girl, I can feel it” Said Aerion with a smile on his face.
“How should we name her then?”
“Vaelyra” Said Aerion.
“Then Vaelyra it is”
Two little boys came full of dirt next to their parents, asking to touch his father’s belly. Little Maegor and little Daekor.