House of the Dragon Oneshots

Dragonrider

A/N: Lady Y/N has recently been betrothed to a nobleman, much to Prince Aemond's dismay. Content warnings: spicy but not super explicit, dirty talk.

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The dance with your betrothed had barely finished when the one-eyed prince had grabbed you by the waist and swept you out of the ballroom.

You had become accustomed to his moody outbursts by now, having grown a close bond during your stay in King's Landing. Helaena had taken a particular liking to you and your friendship with the princess brought you closer to the prince. The two of you ended up spending much time together; some might argue more time than was proper. But ever since your betrothal became official, Aemond had seemed to spiral. He was moodier and sharper than usual—all of which coalesced into your fight in the empty gardens that night.

"I am happy with my betrothed!" you shout, "Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Riches are all he has to offer," he spat back, "You will be bored of him."

"Maybe some boredom will be good," you counter.

You couldn't quite argue the fact that your fiancé was indeed boring. But this was the whole reason your family sent you to King's Landing: to find a husband. Not to have a whirlwind adventure. Even if that was what your heart longed for.

"Not for you," he says, stepping towards you, forcing you to step back, "You will never be satisfied with boredom."

You chew on your inner cheek. Here he was, one of your closest friends at court and now he was looming over you, taunting you with a life you knew you could never have. Your anger flares up.

"My husband will keep me very satisfied," you snap, "I reckon, more satisfied than any man I have ever known!"

Aemond's eye flashes at your words.

"Oh," he says through a clenched jaw, "is that so?"

Uh oh, you think. Before you can think to regret your words, he was upon you. He presses you against an ivy-covered stone wall.

"Any man?" he hisses as a hand snakes up to your throat.

His narrow hips pin your body to the wall and your heart leaps. You couldn't move. Not that you really wanted to. You should've been terrified, but something about it felt sinfully heavenly.

"You and I both know how untrue that is," he growls into your ear and you felt like you might melt then and there.

He presses his knee against your thighs and you instinctively part your legs for him—enough for him to press against your core. You bite back a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Move your hips."

You falter at his order though your body longs to obey. All that time spent together, all the stolen glances, secret touches—in all of that, you had never gone this far. But, by the gods, you want this to go even farther. So you hesitantly, slowly roll your hips against his thigh. It sends a subtle spark of pleasure up from your core.

You raise your eyes to meet his gaze. He is staring at you with a predatory intensity that causes you to gasp. But he doesn't say anything. So you move your hips once more, sending another wave of pleasure, and watch with satisfaction the way his jaw flexes. His fingers curl around the pulse of your neck.

"You've always wanted to ride a dragon, haven't you?" he says lowly. You catch a hint of cheekiness in his smirk. "So ride one."

At his command, you start moving again. As you writhe against him, your hands grasp the front of his shirt, wanting him closer even though you were already impossibly close. His other hand grazes over your chest. You whimper in frustration as he places it instead against the wall, refusing to touch you. You long for his touch but you are powerless to do anything about it. His body against yours and hand at your throat only allow you enough freedom to grind yourself against him.

There was a dragonfire in Aemond's eye as he bore into your face, devouring every expression and gasp you emit. Then his eye lowers down your body. He watches as each roll of your hips sent your chest surging upward, straining against his own chest. Then he watches with ravenous pleasure where his leg disappears up your disarrayed skirt. He growls appreciatively, sounding more dragon than man.

"That's my good girl," he praises, extracting a shameful moan from your lips, "Look at me while you take your pleasure."

Your eyes snap back up to him after starting to drift closed. You keep gyrating against him, your only thoughts on chasing the release that grew ever closer. The intensity of his gaze, the deep vibrations from his chest, his voice hot on your ear... it is too much. You clench your thighs around him, pressing your core hard against his knee. He growls in satisfaction as he feels you pulsating against him.

"Remind me again, my lady," he whispers and you barely hear it over the waves of pleasure washing over you, "how satisfied you are with your betrothed, when I am the only one who can make you come without even touching you?"

A whimper comes from your lips as your orgasm lapses. When he's certain he's drained every last drop of pleasure from you, Aemond releases your throat. You breathe in deeply, not realizing just how much he had restricted you until then. Just as you catch your breath, he steps back. Your legs wobble at the sudden freedom but you manage to stay upright by leaning heavily against the wall you were just pinned to.

Aemond clasps his hands behind his back and peers down at you with a satisfied smile. He appears composed, princely. Meanwhile, you're still staring at him with glazed eyes and flushed skin.

"I look forward to hearing news of your broken engagement tonight, my lady."

"Aemond," you breathe out his name like it was the only thought you could muster.

He leans in close and whispers, "For by tomorrow, I intend to make you my bride."