Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

Stepping up to the entrance of the tent that he’s confined Daenerys too since they left Pentos, Jon nods to the two Dothraki standing guard there and they nod back, stepping aside. They weren’t there to keep Daenerys in, from what Jon had seen of her, the Targaryen woman didn’t have a single fighting bone in her entire body. She was much like his sister Sansa in that way, entirely woman, all noble lady with all the demure and submissive attitude that came with it.
 
No, the guards were there in case her brother or Ser Jorah finally figured out where she was and tried to break her out. Whether or not two Dothraki would be a match for a Westerosi Knight or not was up for debate, but at the very least Jon had wanted to believe that they would be able to raise an alarm, allowing for him to act swiftly to stop any kidnapping attempts.
 
Now though, that probably wasn’t going to be an issue. With Viserys dead, Jorah might try to make a break for it with or without Daenerys, but Jon would simply have him watched. If he tried to abscond with Jon’s aunt, then there would be hell to pay. Putting that out of his mind for the time being, Jon steps into the tent.
 
Daenerys is laying on her side facing away from him when he enters, but Jon isn’t trying to be quiet, and when she hears his boots scuffing against the ground, she looks back over her shoulder to see who it is. Upon making eye contact with him, the truly beautiful young woman immediately moves from lying down to sitting up, kneeling upon her bed and keeping her gaze down and submissive as her hands clutch at her dress in her lap.
 
Slowly, Jon approaches her, considering how best to start things off. In the end, while it might not be the best idea, he decides to go with the truth. Perhaps this will make things more difficult in the long run, but he’s not going to hold anything back when it comes to Daenerys Targaryen. Not if she’s to be his khaleesi.
 
“Your brother is dead.”
 
Daenerys stiffens for a moment, but doesn’t move otherwise, keeping her head down, her gaze averted, even as he comes to a stop in front of her, looming over her kneeling form.
 
“… H-How did he die?”
 
Her words, when they do finally come, are soft and quiet and altogether demure… the perfect tone for a noblewoman, for a princess to take with the conquering barbarian that holds her captive. Once again, Jon considers lying or withholding information, but once again he decides that honesty is the best policy. She’ll find out one way or another from Jorah if he allows the disgraced knight to stick around, after all.
 
“He drew his sword and attempted to run me through… I was forced to kill him in self-defense.”
 
Another pregnant pause as Daenerys digests this information, her silver-blonde hair still dominating his view of her as she keeps her gaze in her lap.
 
“… I see.”
 
Frowning at the distinct lack of sorrow or even horror in her tone, Jon drops to one knee while bringing a gloved hand up under Daenerys’ delicate chin, lifting her head so that he can look her in the eye. He’s expecting at least the beginning of tears, but her gaze isn’t even watery. In fact, Daenerys Targaryen’s face is almost entirely devoid of emotion. Though, he does see a miniscule hint of gear in those beautiful violet eyes of hers.
 
“No tears for your brother?”
 
A small sardonic smile graces her face at that, not reaching her eyes.
 
“It would seem he woke the dragon… your grace.”
 
Jon leans back a bit, even as his eyebrows lift upon his forehead. It takes him a moment to properly comprehend what Daenerys means, but when his thoughts finally settle, he understands.
 
“You can feel it then, can’t you? Just like Bellegere could… but probably even more so.”

 
Daenerys bites her lower lip for a moment, more emotion filling her visage by the moment. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that she was trying to put on a brave face, trying to remain emotionless… but also that while she’s clearly well-practiced at being the demure, quiet young lady, it’s hard for her to remain so in his presence. She can feel him, just like Bellegere could. Calling her to, demanding her submission.
 
It leaves him wondering if Viserys felt the same thing. Was it possible that was what prompted his mad uncle’s attack on him, in the end? If there was a voice telling Viserys to submit, telling him to bow before the superior dragon… Jon could see how that might incense the Beggar King to attack instead, despite all signs pointing to Viserys being somewhat cowardly.
 
With his fingers still propping up Daenerys’ chin, Jon doesn’t wait for the beautiful silver-haired woman to formulate a response. He leans forward and kisses the last Targaryen woman right on the lips then and there, taking her mouth with his own, half-dominating her tongue with his tongue and half-teasing her, toying with her, simply enjoying exploring her mouth.
 
She lets him do so, of course, submitting completely and utterly from the very beginning. But there’s also a bit of… detachment to her that Jon finds not to his liking. She’s used to being kissed and touched… too used to it even. Jon can’t help but feel glad that he killed Viserys when he did, even as he does his best to coax the woman out of the shell he finds before him.
 
Moving his hands downwards, he takes the hem of Daenerys’ dress from her, and slowly pulls the garment up over her head. She doesn’t resist, the kneeling Targaryen woman allowing him to strip her down, kneeling there before him on the bed completely naked. She truly does have a spectacular body, Jon has to admit as he takes her in, observing her blemish free, perfectly pristine form.
 
“Lay back.”
 
Daenerys does as she’s told, laying back on the bed, and Jon moves into position over her. He kisses her again, keeping one hand in her hair for a moment as his tongue explores her mouth, while his other hand begins to explore her body. Here is where Jon gets his first reaction, his caressing of her soft flesh provoking hitches in Daenerys’ breathing, as well as soft gasps.
 
But even here, her reactions are muted. Just what had Viserys done to her? How much had Jon’s uncle hurt his aunt? Daenerys’ quip comes back to mind, about Viserys ‘awaking the dragon’. It didn’t sound like her own line when she said it, it sounded as if she was repeating what someone else frequently said, words she heard constantly, as if she was almost mocking them, though Daenerys didn’t seem to truly have a mocking bone in her body.
 
Regardless, intent on coaxing the woman out of the girl, Jon slips the hand he has on her body down to betwixt her thighs. Daenerys’ violet eyes widen at this, even as he begins to slick her lower lips with his digits, running his fingers back and forth across her slit. Had Viserys never gone this far before? Jon could imagine him refraining from sullying his sister’s virtue too early.
 
As much as the Targaryens tended to marry in-house so to speak, there was no denying that Daenerys was Viserys’ most valuable bargaining chip. That was obvious, given the fact that he’d tried to sell her off to a Dothraki Khal for an army to retake Westeros. Now, Jon found himself in charge of that very same army, going east rather than west. It was a strange turn of events to say the least, strange indeed… but for now, he would focus on the task at hand.
 
Disengaging from her mouth as well, Jon slides his lips and tongue down off of Daenerys’ face and across her upper chest, before eventually coming to a stop at one of her beautifully pale, perfectly sculpted breasts. He closes his lips over her tit and swirls his tongue around the little nipple capping the breast off, leaving her to moan now that her lips are no longer obstructed by his.
 
Smiling slightly, Jon keeps up the offensive, finally managing to draw some reaction from his khaleesi. Daenerys, submissive and demure Daenerys Targaryen, squirms and whimpers and mewls beneath him, even as her face grows redder and redder in the face of his efforts. His fingers delve betwixt her pussy lips, and the Targaryen woman cries out, her back arching and her chest pushing into his mouth as her entire body quakes.
 
It’s not quite an orgasm, he doesn’t think… but it’s a sign that he can certainly draw one out of her, given a bit more time. So, that’s exactly what Jon sets out to do, continuing to finger Daenerys, continuing to suckle at her breasts one after the other. All the while, his dark eyes remain fixed on her face, even as she in turn stares down at him with wide eyes of her own, her lips parted, her chest heaving up into his mouth with every panting breath.
 
She’s staring at him in abject disbelief, even as she swims in pleasure, her glazed eyes all but confirming how good he’s making her feel. Jon can only imagine that Viserys’ treatment of her, whatever form that took, did not leave Daenerys very excited about the prospect of sex. It was Jon’s job to show her how enjoyable a tumble in the furs could be.
 
It doesn’t take much longer before Daenerys Targaryen, his khaleesi, his wife he supposed… reaches climax. It’s an explosive orgasm to be sure, her pussy juices coating his fingers liberally as she squirts all over them, her entire body shaking and spasming. He covers her mouth at the last moment with his free hand in order to muffle her ecstatic squealing, and even as she screams into his palm, Jon is watching her with a smile.
 
She’s ready now, he’s fairly certain. Ready for the next part. When Daenerys is done cumming, Jon pulls his digits out of her cunt and his hand away from her mouth. She lays there under him, red-faced, panting heavily, and flushed with arousal and need and contentment as well. She thinks she’s satisfied, but Jon is far from finished with her.
 
Standing up, he begins to undress before her. He enjoys the way her violet eyes feast upon every fiber of his being as he does so, her gaze staying on him as he exposes his muscular torso and then his long legs and thick cock. As his member, already quite erect, springs free of its confines, Daenerys’ eyes focus on it, a mixture of trepidation and anticipation filling her gaze.
 
But there’s no true fear left in her, nor does she look away. Instead, to her credit, the beautiful young woman spreads her legs apart for him, laying back and offering herself up to him as her breasts, slick and wet and reddened by his attentions, heave up and down from her panting. Jon just chuckles, kneeling back down on the bed once he’s as naked as she is.
 
Grabbing her by her hips, Jon flips Daenerys onto her front, drawing an ‘ooh!’ from the Targaryen woman, even as he pulls her hips back so that she’s brought onto her hands and knees. Leaning over her, his breath ghosting across the nape of her neck, Jon speaks in a gentle tone, even as he places his cockhead against her lower lips, rubbing his thick member up along her dripping wet slit.
 
“The Dothraki will expect a mounting. This is how Drogo would have taken you that day, if I hadn’t stopped him. I’m their Khal now, I suppose… and you’re my khaleesi. I’ve done all I could to prepare you, so it won’t hurt… are you ready, Dany?”
 
The pet name seems to almost send a jolt through Daenerys’ system. Her back arches and she lets out a bit of a mewling purr beneath him. Jon knows in that moment that he has her, a wide smile spreading across his face.
 
“Y-yes… I’m ready…”
 
And truly, she is. He could have taken her like this from the start, but it would have hurt her and might have even been uncomfortable for him. Jon had yet to fuck a woman that wasn’t wet, but he’d heard of chafing and the like. Regardless, as he thrusts forward and claims Daenerys Targaryen’s virginity right then and there, their foreplay, his taking the time to coax out some form of Daenerys that would enjoy this… it pays off.
 
She’s nice and wet as he claims her as his own, and his cock slides in deep, even as it tears her hymen. Daenerys lets out a quiet little yelp, but it’s followed up with loud wanton moans as Jon begins to fuck her like a Khal fucks his khaleesi, mounting her and plowing her from behind with deep, rough thrusting. Daenerys is more than wet enough that the experience is not the painful one it could have been. Her moaning soon turns to cries, but they’re cries of ecstasy and pleasure, not of agony or pain.
 
Jon doesn’t bother trying to silence her this time around. He lets Dany sing as he fucks her from behind to his heart’s content, as he finally claims her as his khaleesi. And sing she does, moans and squeals and screams reverberating through the space and likely out of the tent, filling the entire area. No one will disturb them, but Jon is very much aware that everyone around them is hearing the two of them going at it right now. It’s about as private as one can get in the middle of a camped khalasar, he figures… which means its still a very public fucking, to be sure.
 
Still, needs must, and Daenerys needs to be fucked and claimed as his khaleesi before they reach Vaes Dothrak, lest the crones there try to kill her, or claim her for themselves. Of course, it’s not all about practically. The last female Targaryen truly is a beauty, and Jon can’t deny that he enjoys every bit of mounting her and fucking her as hard as he can. Dany does as well, if the multiple orgasms she reaches before he finally cums are any indication.
 
When he does finally fill her with his seed, Daenerys groans beneath him in abject ecstasy, shuddering through one last climax before slumping forward onto her front, her back arched and her ass high in the air, mostly due to him holding her tightly by the hips. Pulling out of her once he’s fully creampied her womb, Jon grunts as he falls to the bed beside her, laying on his back and basking in the afterglow.
 
To her credit, Daenerys recovers from the mounting quickly, and to his surprise, her first act upon leveraging herself back onto her hands and knees, is to lean over him and initiate a kiss all on her lonesome. Her own kiss is more tender and explorative than anything else, but Jon enjoys it all the same, letting her tongue past between his lips for a few moments before she pulls back.
 
“I…”
 
Carefully, Daenerys climbs off the bed. Jon watches her go, not all that worried at this point. She’s not trying to escape or anything like that, they both know walking out of this tent right now, naked and freshly fucked as she is, would not end well for her. Instead, Daenerys goes and grabs a chest from the pile of gifts that people had given her at her wedding to Drogo. Jon had let her keep them all, hoping that they would at least help her stave off boredom as the journey east began.
 
Dragging the chest over by one of it’s handles, Daenerys brings it to the edge of the bed and kneels beside it. Sitting up, Jon raises a brow at his khaleesi, only for her to simply flip open the lid in response. Nestled within are three petrified Dragon Eggs. Now, Jon remembered them from the wedding. It was the Magister from Pentos who had gifted them to Dany.
 
But at the time, he really hadn’t paid them much mind. His blood had already been roaring in his ears as it was, and his focus had been on Drogo and getting Daenerys out of the savage’s clutches. Now though… he couldn’t say whether it was because of proximity or maybe something to do with them having just consummated their relationship, but he can’t take his eyes off of the dragon eggs.
 
Something is thrumming within him. Something is telling him that these aren’t as dead as one might think. Something is telling him that he could do more with these eggs, and judging by the look on Daenerys’ face, she’s feeling it too, or at least some of what he’s feeling, given she felt pressured to present them to him.
 
The only thing was… did he want to give into this urge? He felt like he was being guided, directed even. Did he want to allow such guidance to control him, to allow himself to be directed down whatever path this was? Or no, was he going to reject this… thing and step back. He was his own man, wasn’t he? Should he really be allowing some unseen force to push him in one direction or the other?

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