The History of Dragons(R18)

Joana's laugh filled the quiet room as Aegon untangled himself from her, his body was warm and slick as he stood up from the rumpled bed.

She lay there, trying to catch her breath, feeling the wet heat of his cum start to slip out of her. She rolled onto her back, the cool mattress pressing against her bare skin, her dark hair spreading out like spilled ink, ass cheeks exposed to air which felt cold due to his cum spreading over them.

Her eyes followed him as he walked across the stone floor to the basin by her vanity, not caring that he was stark naked.

The candlelight played over his pale skin, catching the lines of his muscles, and she felt her face get hot just looking at him.

He dunked a cloth in the water, wringing it out, and turned back with a small grin. Joana's cheeks burned as she took it, their fingers brushing for a second, sending a little jolt through her. She cleaned herself, wiping carefully between her thighs, the cloth cool against her sensitive skin. She glanced at him, watching how easy he was in his own body like he owned every inch of the room. She carefully inserted the cloth inside and cleaned any excess liquid. There surely was a lot of it in her vagina....but she felt it strange that her asshole was almost empty... it was as if it had drunk everything.

Done, she tossed the cloth onto the bedside table and saw him move to her messy stack of books, piled high on a stool. His hands, still warm from touching her, ran over the worn covers before he picked one up.

"Dragonkin, History of House Tarayan, Exile to Empire, with Notes on Dragons," he read, his voice slow and clear like he was tasting the words. He looked at her, his violet eyes sharp. "You think dragons were real?"

She shrugged, the sheet slipping down to show the curve of her hip. "Gotta be," she said, keeping her voice low. "How else did those Kingdoms turn into one empire so quickly? Something huge had to make that happen, right?" She shifted, pulling her knees up, the sheet barely covering her now. "I mean, the stories talk about fire and wings, beasts that could burn whole armies. That's not just made up, is it?"

Talking about dragons was dangerous. The Faith had rules, and the Citadel backed them up—no drawings, no stories, nothing about dragons except the Tarayan sigil. But people still talked, especially the smallfolk, passing tales in taverns and markets.

They said dragons had flown once, their shadows covering whole towns, their roars shaking the ground. No one alive had seen one, though, and the septas would swear they were just myths, lies to scare kids. Joana didn't buy it. She'd always felt, deep down, that dragons had to be real, that they'd left their mark on the world somehow.

Aegon came back to the bed, the frame creaking as he sat down. The book stayed in his lap, its cover scuffed from her reading it so much. She thought he'd hand it to her, ask her to read like she sometimes did when they were alone, but he flipped it open himself. His voice came out steady, filling the room as he started reading Maester Thomax's words about the Tarayans, back when they lived on Dragonarc, surrounded by sea and stone. He read about their ships, their swords, their strange hair, and the dragons they were said to worship.

Joana slid closer, her body brushing his. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin, and looked at the neat writing on the page. Her copy was plain, with no fancy pictures or gold edges like the ones in big libraries. She'd bought it with coins she'd saved, scraping by on what little she got. But Aegon didn't seem to mind; he just kept reading, his voice pulling her into stories of his family's past—battles, betrayals, and beasts that breathed fire.

She listened, her fingers resting on his arm, tracing little circles without thinking. When he paused to take a breath, she pointed at a word she'd seen before but never understood. "What's this one? Valyria You said it, and I've read it in other books, but what is it?"

"Valyria," he said, his voice soft, like he was sharing a secret. "Say it with me. Valyria."

"Valyria," she repeated, the word feeling heavy on her tongue. She tilted her head, her hair brushing his arm. "What does it mean? I've heard people call your family Blood of Old Valyria, but is it a place? A person?"

"It was a dragon and an empire," he said, leaning closer, his breath warm on her face. "A long time ago, it ruled most of the continent, Big cities, and established an empire known as Valyria. My family's ancestors were his servants; one of them was very talented and always close to Valyrian, the dragon. She and Valyrian fell in love and had babies..."

"Oh," she said, her mind filling with pictures of a big dragon fucking a human girl "So that's why your sigil's a dragon?"

Seeing her strange face, he knew what she was thinking. "Don't think too much...it was said that the dragons knew draconian magic; they could change into humans...."

"Ohhh...." Her mouth opened in understanding and a little blush. She didn't know why she was thinking strange things.

"Pretty much," he said, shutting the book with a dull thud. He leaned over, setting it on the floor, his body stretching so she could see the muscles in his back move. "Why'd you wait so long to ask about this stuff?"

Her face got hot again, and she looked down, picking at the sheet. "I'm scared to ask," she said, her voice small. "Your other women, they're all nobles, right? They went to fancy schools and learned history, languages, and all that. I'm just a commoner. I was eating scraps, nearly dead before your mom found me and brought me here." She kept her eyes on the bed, too ashamed to look at him. "I don't want you to think I'm stupid or… not enough."

He grabbed her chin, not rough but firm, making her look up. His eyes were hard, serious. "I'll never think you're stupid," he said, each word clear. "Never. You hear me?" She nodded, her throat tight, and he gave her a small smile. "From now on, you got a question, write it down. Send one of your maids to find me. I'll answer, no matter what."

She nodded again, a smile creeping onto her face. The knot in her chest loosened like she could breathe easier. She moved closer, pressing herself against him, her skin warm where it touched his. She kissed his shoulder, soft, just a quick thank you for not making her feel small. The room was quiet, the candles burning low, their light dancing on the walls. She felt that heat again, low in her belly, stirring as she looked at him.

"Aegon," she said, her voice low, rough. Her hand moved, slow, down his chest, feeling the hard lines of him, stopping just above his hip. "Read more… but later." She smirked, her eyes locked on his, and pulled him closer. Her lips found him, the kiss slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. Her fingers dug into his skin, and she felt him respond, his hands sliding over her, pulling her tight.

The room seemed to shrink, just them and the bed.

She pushed herself up, straddling him, her thighs gripping his hips. His hands roamed her back, rougher now, her breasts pressed to his chest, giving him a heavenly feeling of scuzziness, and she gasped as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.

The sheet fell away, forgotten, and she arched into him, her body alive with need. She could feel him, hard again, poking her hips, and she grinned, teasing him with a slow roll of her hips, lubricating his cock with her wet entrance again and again...

"Joana," he growled, his voice thick, and she laughed, low and wicked. She leaned down, her hair falling around them, and kissed him again, her tongue tracing his lips. His hands gripped her ass, pulling her closer, and she moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

He entered her cave and started pounding it.

He wasn't fucking her crazy or anything...just slow, rhythmic motions...deep enough to touch her core.

They moved together, the bed creaking under them, the candles flickering like they might go out.

She lost track of time, of everything but him—the heat of his skin, the way he touched her, the way he said her name like it was the only word he knew.

When they finally slowed, both of them were breathing hard, she collapsed against him, her head on his chest. His heart was pounding, the same as hers, and she smiled, tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

"Keep that book close," she mumbled, half-asleep already. "I want to hear more tomorrow."

He chuckled, his arm tightening around her. "Whatever you want," he said, and she believed him.