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Rhaenyra was very thorough with getting ready.

This was not any Saturday — this one was a very important one, and Rhaenyra was jittery, barely able to contain her excitement. 

She got up early, and even though she still had hours before Baelon was supposed to pick her up, she was busy.

Today was the day, she was sure. He would not have invited her to his place on Saturday evening to have a sleepover if he did not plan to do it.

And gods, Rhaenyra had been waiting.

Kissing behind the gym had been fun, as well as driving around with his hand on her thigh, but she was ready for more. And surely, his glances and smiles must mean something, as well as this invitation.

She was so done with sneaking out between classes and half-innocently fooling around in the backseat of his car. She wanted it to be real, to feel the most important thing, to take their relationship to a new level.

And she was ready, she truly was.

At sixteen, she felt pretty confident about herself and her body, and Rhaenyra knew Baelon liked her quite a lot, too. She did not worry about her boyfriend faltering out of a sudden, and his kisses had been sweet, his touch gentle and nice — Rhaenyra was really, really determined to get it done tonight.

They both must be thinking the same thing, she mused as she locked herself in the bathroom to shave every inch of her body. Baelon must be feeling it, too — the desire, the interest, the exhilarating feeling of blood rushing whenever they met after his practice or skipped lessons to hide somewhere and make out.

For so many weeks, Rhaenyra had been dreaming about Baelon taking it further — his hand had been under her pleated skirt, but it had never ventured further, had never given her what she so desperately wanted. His lips had been on hers, had even travelled to her jawline and neck, but she wanted them lower, on her breasts, on her stomach, on her thighs.

And now, she had finally got the chance.

When he asked her about it on Thursday, she almost squealed in excitement. Still, she had to maintain her dignity, so she nodded curtly and kissed his cheek instead, certain that a sleepover at his place could not mean anything but this.

He would finally touch her for real, like she had long been dreaming about.

Rhaenyra made sure her skin was smooth practically everywhere. She had even considered shaving down there, but then decided to simply trim her pale curls — it was too easy to get razor burns and tiny cuts there, and that would be the opposite of sexy. 

She was covered in a cherry-scented moisturiser from head to toe, her whole body smelling like ripe fruit. Perhaps she, too, was ripe and ready for plucking, Rhaenyra thought with a smirk, squeezing the last drops of the lotion from the tube. 

Her panties and her bra matched — she wore the set she had bought for herself almost half a year ago, having saved her pocket money for it. Her father and stepmother certainly did not know about this purchase, but Rhaenyra thought it was perfect — black and red lace was complimenting her pale skin, and the push-up effect really did wonder to her tits.

She twirled in front of the mirror, assessing the curve of her ass, the fullness of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach. Surely, Baelon would find her attractive when she looked like this — Rhaenyra licked her lips and smirked.

Yes, it was happening today.

She imagined Baelon preparing the same way — but perhaps it was way easier for boys. She knew he would take it seriously, though, for he was a good lad, really, and this was why Rhaenyra was not afraid or apprehensive.

In many articles and magazines, she had read that she should not be rushing things, should not be doing this just because she felt pressured into it by peers or a partner. But this was the thing — she felt ready , really ready and confident.

She wanted to do this — and she knew that Baelon would not disappoint. He was a good kisser, and his arms were strong — surely, if the way he held her when they simply cuddled were any indication, then sex itself would be awesome.

There was something sweet about doing this with him — it would be the first time for both of them, and Rhaenyra hoped they would only grow closer after this, having pleased each other.

Elinda called her, and they spent half an hour talking, Rhaenyra hiding in her room and hoping the sound did not travel outside. She told her friend everything and sent pictures of her bra, hoping Elinda would approve of her choice. When her friend said that she would certainly look fabulous and made Rhaenyra swear she would tell her every fucking detail on Monday, she hung up, and Rhaenyra fell on the bed with a loud sigh.

Gods, it would be so good to finally do it.

***

Her first suspicion that something was very, very wrong crept in when Baelon pulled into her driveway. Standing there, wearing a black mini skirt and a crop top, Rhaenyra frowned, seeing that there was not just her boyfriend in the car.

When Baelon jumped out of it, he was grinning and dashed to kiss her on the cheek. Rhaenyra had half a mind to tell him off — her father could be watching from his study, after all — but she looked past him, at the car, where she could clearly see his friends.

And sure enough, when Baelon guided her into the vehicle, it was not her usual passenger seat by his side, no. It was the backseat, and Rhaenyra found herself squished between two other people.

Fucking great.

It was impossible to breathe in the car, too — the scent of cheap deodorants was making Rhaenyra nauseous, and she could not believe she had bathed herself in her stepmother’s expensive Tom Ford perfume all for it to be completely lost, quelled by the unbearable aroma of teenage boys sitting in the car.

Baelon was driving, Cregan sat in the front seat, blasting some rap music so loudly Rhaenyra wanted to cover her ears with her hands, and she was forced to endure the company of loud Lannister twins who were cackling at some joke, shaking their heads and talking over each other.

This was off to a terrible start, Rhaenyra thought, tossing her head back and hoping her curls were not getting ruined right now.

Baelon had not mentioned his friends coming, too — well, he had not said they would be alone either, but Rhaenyra had assumed it to be a given. Perhaps they would have a small party together, and then his pals would disappear, leaving only the two of them at Baelon’s place.

She could endure a few hours of this, especially if the snacks were involved and Baelon caressed her thigh as they were doing… But what would they even do?

Rhaenyra was not a judgmental person — well, at least she tried not to be, she genuinely did. It was not her place to snicker at their school football team members — after all, she was a cheer captain herself, and they were sort of in the same boat, at least in the eyes of many.

But gods, she could not imagine willingly spending time with Baelon’s teammates.

She was not sure they even had something in common to talk about — there was always math homework and the upcoming game, but Rhaenyra was rather certain there should be more to a friendship than discussing school even on a warm Saturday.

At least her boyfriend was well-read in addition to being an athlete — it was kind of a prerequisite in their family, and Rhaenyra surely appreciated the fact that her cousin possessed both the looks and the brain. 

She had heard him complain about his dad from time to time — apparently, her uncle Daemon took his son’s education and development very seriously, constantly reminding him that football could not interfere with other subjects and that he could train and practice as long as he was not falling behind in any other subject.

And he was not — Baelon was rather smart, Rhaenyra had to admit, and it was good news for her.

Her own parents were also quite strict with her, but her actual knowledge did not matter as much to them as appearances — this was why she was the cheer captain, the face of every performance, the exemplary student. Rhaenyra complied with their will without much protest — many things came to her effortlessly anyway, and she was a natural learner.

This was why she knew that being with Baelon was right. His handsome face always made her smile, and when he ran his hand through his hair, she could not help but blush. It was more than looks, too, for they could actually talk between kisses, not just idly spend time together.

However, every time his friends were involved, he seemed to dumb down to their level — and this infuriated Rhaenyra. In private, Baelon was sweet, kind and caring, but with his teammates, he turned into a stereotypical loud teenage boy — and Rhaenyra sighed, suddenly very much in agreement with Uncle Daemon.

Maybe all this football thing really was not for him. His pretty face would be better off with books and slow strolls in the park instead of hitting the ball and spending time with these jerks.

But they were her boyfriend’s bros — so she forced a smile, trying not to think about all this too hard. She would be damned if she allowed them to spoil this evening for her, and she would achieve her goal, one way or another.

It was not in her character to give up, after all.

When they stopped at Baelon’s place, she was glad to be able to breathe — and to Baelon’s credit, he did offer her his hand as she was getting out of his car. Rhaenyra smiled at him — perhaps she should make an effort. Cregan, Jason and Tyland were his friends, and she could at least pretend they were not making her eyes roll every time they opened their mouths.

Still, she felt a bit hurt that he had chosen to invite them as well.

Her second disappointment came swiftly, too. Apparently, contrary to what she had believed, they would not be alone at Baelon’s house. 

Somehow, Rhaenyra had assumed that if he was inviting her to stay the night, there would not be other people in the same space, which included both his friends and his dad.

Uncle Daemon was a very handsome and pleasant disappointment, though. Rhaenyra was not immune to his charms, and even though she could hardly mask her annoyance when she realised he was home, preventing her and Baelon from having alone time, she also could not help but smile when he pulled her into his embrace.

Uncle Daemon was cool. She was not that surprised that Baelon did not mind his dad’s presence when he had friends over — because, unlike Rhaenyra’s father, he was not constantly trying to intrude and stick his nose into everyone’s business.

There were only four years between her father and Uncle Daemon, but only one of them was a fun person to be around. Rhaenyra did not know how it was possible, but her uncle literally could not be more different from her dad — the fact that they were actually brothers always was mind-boggling to her. 

“You look beautiful today,” Daemon remarked, and Rhaenyra felt like her cheeks were turning pink. It was fucking unfair that he said it before Baelon did, but it was also very much different to her boyfriend saying this.

Because surely, if her uncle, a man with a keen eye for attractive things (which more than often included women), found her beautiful, then she was absolutely rocking this outfit.

“Only today, Uncle? But thank you anyway,” she practically purred, delighted that at least someone had noticed her efforts.

The praise lifted her spirits, at least a bit. She had not gone through all the preparations to see them wasted, after all, and as Baelon and his dad exchanged some words, Rhaenyra made her way past them straight to the kitchen.

“Have fun, youngsters! Let me know if you need anything,” Daemon said loudly and returned to his study on the first floor, disappearing from Rhaenyra’s view.

She contemplated going after him and asking if he could simply kick everyone but her out of the house — and preferably leave it himself, but quite quickly decided against it. This would make things even more awkward, so she settled for taking a quick breath in the kitchen before she had to inevitably join Baelon and his friends in his room upstairs.

She had been in this house many times. Baelon was just a month older than her, and they often spent time together even before they started dating — playing in the garden, doing homework, simply hanging out when there was nothing to do. Their feelings were a natural product of their closeness stemming from childhood — and Rhaenyra liked that it was easy with him.

Rhaenyra also adored her uncle. He was so cool, so much fun — and fuck, so hot. She had often found herself staring at him, imagining how well Baelon would look for years to come. Like a fine wine, Daemon seemed to age splendidly, only looking better and better with each passing year, and Rhaenyra was proud to know she had been wise to pick a boyfriend who had such good genes.

She poured herself a glass of water, watching how Baelon and his friends went upstairs to his room. She would join them shortly — maybe they could pick a movie to watch together, and Baelon’s hand would end up on her thigh, travelling higher and higher until he felt the hem of her pretty panties and understood everything. Maybe he would kick his teammates out that very second, Rhaenyra thought with a smile, for surely, he would not pass on an opportunity to have her instead of people with whom he had already spent a lot of time.

When she walked into his room, Baelon was turning on the TV. Other boys were rummaging through the boxes where her boyfriend kept his controllers — and Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat.

“Are we going to watch something, perhaps?” She asked nonetheless, having little hope. Still, it was worth trying, and maybe Baelon could hear in her voice that she was not entirely comfortable in the company of his pals.

“Nah, we are going to play some matches in FIFA, I think,” Jason told her, not even turning around to face her. “And then maybe a bit of GTA before the pizzas arrive.”

Her mouth was agape — all this would take hours. 

“Yeah, we have the whole night,” Cregan added. “Maybe we can watch something later.”

They went back to the task of setting up the console while Rhaenyra’s hands balled into fists. Surely, they could not be serious — what did they mean by the whole night ? 

She was supposed to get fucked today — for the first time in her life, and she would very much appreciate all of them fucking off before she lost her temper.

Baelon must have noticed her discomfort, for he made his way to her and hugged her. 

“It is going to be fun,” he promised, and Rhaenyra wanted to roll her eyes. “Do you want to play with us?”

She would rather die than play even a round of these stupid games — not to mention that she would most likely be ridiculed and laughed at for her clumsiness and lack of skill. Rhaenyra was not an avid video games player, and her favourite game was nothing but a simulator of farming on a remote island — she would suck at anything else.

And Baelon was supposed to know this.

Rhaenyra was done living in the darkness. All this was a grave misunderstanding, and she had to clear it out before she grew too frustrated. She pulled her boyfriend by the arm out of the room, ignoring his confused stare.

Once they were in the hallway, she practically hissed her question:

“What are they doing here?!”

Baelon blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hanging out? I told you, Rhae, we would be having a sleepover — ”

“I thought it would be you and me! Not Cregan, not Jason, not Tyland, not your dad out of all people!”

Out of them all, she minded Daemon the least — her uncle would not bother them under regular circumstances, she knew, and if it were literally any other occasion, she would not be affected by his presence at the slightest.

But she could not imagine the embarrassment of having sex while he was under the same roof — he would be able to fucking hear them and maybe even prevent this from happening.

“Rhae, baby.” Baelon took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I wanted to spend time with you all. And the dudes all like you, baby, really. We are going to have fun, I know it.”

She rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip. This was getting out of hand, and she fought the urge to cry.

Even if she ignored the matter of losing her virginity, something she had planned for, there was also the fact that there was absolutely nothing for them to do. Had she known Baelon was inviting his teammates, she would have dragged Elinda and Laena here, thus having at least someone she could talk to while the boys were busy with their stupid games.

But no — she was stuck with four boys paying her no attention whatsoever, focused on their controllers and nothing else. Fuck, perhaps Uncle Daemon was right — the football thing really did not benefit Baelon.

Rhaenyra sighed and went back to his room, climbing on the bed and crossing her legs. At least there would be pizza at some point — she could only hope Baelon remembered her favourite toppings.

***

Three hours later, Rhaenyra was still sitting on the bed and staring at her phone.

She licked her greasy fingers, having finished her small pizza — the only interesting thing that had happened to her today, really — and was engrossed in a chat with Elinda, reading her friend’s attempts to cheer her up. It was hardly working because Rhaenyra was angry and miserable, but at least it helped her ignore the loud laughter and the shrieks of triumph or defeat after another round of whatever game the boys were playing.

It was not in her nature to give up, but she felt the mounting frustration in every cell of her body. Baelon looked like a child in the company of his friends, and Rhaenyra hated them for being so obnoxious and dull.

How could anyone pick a video game over a girlfriend? How could anyone really want to spend hours with a controller in hand when there was an opportunity to do something way more exciting?

She wondered if Baelon simply did not like what she saw. Rhaenyra did not often doubt herself, not when she had an objectively hot body and a pretty face, but something was clearly not working, and she could not help but pout slightly.

So many hours spent in preparation — all for him to not even notice, all for him to pick FIFA or GTA or whatever instead of her, being more focused on his pals than on her.

Could it be something she did? What if she had done something wrong?

But no, the thought did not sound that realistic to Rhaenyra. She looked incredible — and even Uncle Daemon complimented her, so it really was not her problem.

She huffed in indignation, sending Elinda another angry text about how she absolutely hated everything about tonight, but even venting her frustration did not really help.

Suddenly, Baelon turned to her and bestowed a cheerful smile on her.

“Are you having fun, babe?”

Rhaenyra fought the urge to launch a pillow at him — after all, it was her own idea to tell him she would simply watch them play and enjoy it. She had not expected this to last for three hours, though, and she was so close to being done with making concessions. 

“Yeah, totally,” she said, not even trying to hide her sarcasm, but it still seemed to be lost on Baelon, for he grinned only wider and reached out to stroke her ankle. 

“Bro, are you even paying attention?!” Cregan exclaimed and shook Baelon’s shoulder. “We are getting serious here!”

Immediately, her boyfriend’s attention was back on the screen and the controller, and he was mumbling some apologies to his friends while fiercely hitting some buttons and groaning when the punch or the kick or the shot he wanted to execute did not work.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. They were getting serious, but not her — and on the evening when she was so ready to lose her virginity to the boy she liked, out of all days. Baelon was hitting the buttons on the controller, but not hers — and she wanted to climb up the wall at how infuriated it made her feel.

Seriously, could they not play their stupid games on literally any other day?

She was so over this. Grunting, she got off the bed, smoothing her skirt and putting her phone into the waistband. She needed to get out of here — desperately and right now.

If she had to spend one more moment in the company of these brutes, she might turn into one herself, just like Baelon seemed to do whenever he was in the vicinity of his friends.

“I am going to get myself something to drink,” she announced, making her way to the door, careful not to trip over the half-empty pizza boxes and cans of sodas. 

However, she doubted any of them heard her — not that it mattered, truly, and not that she had expected them to say anything, but it still hurt her dignity.

Was she so forgettable, so difficult to want? Had Baelon not touched her, had he not kissed her deep, seriously, passionately? Was it so impossible for him to understand what she wanted from him, what she needed? 

Surely, he must be craving this, too — what teenager would not? Rhaenyra was absolutely the hottest girl in their school, and her cousin was fumbling the bag by not acting. 

She could not believe he would pick his friends over the chance to finally fuck her — especially when she was so eager, so keen on making it good for both of them.

It was supposed to be a perfect evening, with lights down low, with cuddles turning into something more passionate, kisses becoming less and less chaste, lips travelling lower and lower. Rhaenyra could imagine it perfectly — Baelon and her going to bed together, and then her sliding her hand down his body, feeling how much she wanted her, letting him explore her fully.

She was not even afraid — she would allow Baelon to do everything to her because she desperately wanted it, wanted to take this step, wanted to become an adult and open this aspect of life for herself.

It would be so good, she thought, walking down the stairs. 

If only he stopped looking at the screen for a fucking second.

In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and rummaged through it. Rhaenyra knew she could do it — what would be unthinkable for any other friend of Baelon’s was perfectly acceptable for her to do. After all, she was family.

The cool air coming out of the fridge was also a welcome contrast to the stuffy, stale air of Baelon’s room. Rhaenyra had not realised how difficult it was to breathe upstairs until she had escaped the confinement of the room.

She saw a pack of grapes and took it out, together with a can of some diet soda. Rhaenyra was not really hungry, but sitting in the kitchen and nibbling on some fruit sounded endlessly more appealing than witnessing another match between Baelon and his dudes.

Rhaenyra jumped up to sit directly on the counter and dangled her legs when she heard a noise. 

Turning around, she saw Daemon in the doorway. He stood there, his arms folded on his chest, a kind smile on his lips.

“I was worried for you.”

She groaned and violently plucked a grape off the branch. How was it fair that her uncle could understand that she was not comfortable while her boyfriend could not? How was it possible, how was she supposed to be calm?

“I am fine,” she said through gritted teeth, opening the can of soda. “We are having fun.”

Daemon laughed and came closer. “Don’t lie, Princess.”

Rhaenyra sighed. What could she do? She did not want to go home, not when she had worked so hard to ask for her father’s permission to have this night over at Baelon’s place. She could not just desert the room forever and hide somewhere — Baelon would notice eventually, and it was not like she had much to do outside his room.

She could not hide in this kitchen forever, no matter how appealing it sounded right now. She was on a mission, after all, and she might need a reprieve, but she would see to the end of it, even if it meant pulling Baelon into a bathroom or shoving his friends out of his room.

Her uncle was close now, standing right in front of her. Not tearing his eyes off her, he ran his fingers up and down her leg, making Rhaenyra freeze.

“I know what you have come for today.”

She gulped, watching his hand caress the smooth skin of her leg, how it wrapped around her ankle, how his calloused fingers seemed to explore her with ease.

Surely, Daemon could not know. Gods, it was so embarrassing!

Her cheeks were pink, and she wanted to disappear — but she could not move, could not jump off the counter, could not break free from his spell. Rhaenyra could only watch how his fingers travelled higher and higher, above her knee, to the hem of her skirt.

“I… I am not sure what you mean, Uncle,” Rhaenyra whispered, her mouth dry. 

Thinking that Daemon knew she wanted to have sex tonight was not as mortifying as his knowing Baelon was choosing his games over that prospect.

Over her.

Daemon laughed and shook his head, his fingers playing with the hem of her pleated skirt, so close to travelling further that her breath hitched. “I think you know very well what I mean, Rhaenyra. Every inch of this skin is so soft and smooth, and this skirt is barely covering your ass. You even smell incredible, Princess — am I supposed to believe it is just a coincidence that you look like a pretty doll on a Saturday evening while staying with my son?”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to protest — Daemon was right, of course, but she could not just admit that. There was something wicked about him noticing every detail, every tiniest thing about her appearance and deducing the reasons behind them — but it was slightly embarrassing to realise she had been so obvious.

Yet probably not obvious enough for Baelon to get the hint.

“Uncle, I — ”

But she was interrupted by a press of his thumb on her lips. Rhaenyra trailed off immediately, caught by surprise — and gods, it was so titillating to feel him this way. He had never done this before, and even though he had always been physical with his affection, this felt different.

“Shh. You don’t have to explain yourself, Princess.” His other hand moved higher, squeezing her inner thigh and making her open her legs as if compelled by some instinct. “Baelon is just a boy, and boys grow up not as fast as girls, unfortunately. This leaves pretty creatures like you so neglected, so overlooked.”

Rhaenyra could only nod — her uncle was so right, saying exactly what she had been thinking and going through. It was so cruel to be more mature than her boyfriend and his friends, so awkward to need adult things when he still preferred to remain a child.

“Baelon is at that age when he wants to impress his peers,” Daemon was talking calmly, as if it was not his large palm under her skirt, as if his thumb was not pressed to her plush lips. “But you have needs, don’t you, pretty girl?”

She did not know if it was a need or a want — and honestly, she was not sure it was possible to distinguish them now. Rhaenyra stared at her uncle, wide-eyed and confused about his intentions, and at the same time afraid to move, to blink, to break the spell.

Because whatever Daemon was doing, it was wonderful. It was very much not innocent, not something an uncle and niece should be doing, but she was so desperate, so destitute today, that she latched onto the promise of something more from Daemon.

He had noticed how pretty and dolled-up she looked. He had complimented her. He was paying her attention while Baelon had not even probably noticed she was gone from the room.

And he did look so smug and handsome, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, offering Rhaenyra a glimpse of his strong, muscular chest. He was so close, oozing with warmth and peculiar energy, and Rhaenyra was not sure she knew the words to describe all this, but one thing she clearly understood was that she did not want it to end.

She felt so hot all of a sudden; even a crop top and a skirt were too much for her. Rhaenyra squirmed on the counter, feeling too many things at once, but Daemon’s hand kept her in place.

“Has he touched you like that already?” Daemon asked, bowing his head and whispering right into her ear. His fingers were on her panties, feeling her folds through the fabric — and gods, she was wet, so wet that it was almost impossible to believe.

Rhaenyra gasped when he dragged his fingers up and down — she was still clothed, so it did not count for anything, right? — and breathed out her answer:

“No, Uncle. We have never — ”

“What, not even this?” His voice had hints of amusement. “What a pity. I am so sorry my son is keeping you waiting.”

She burned with arousal and shame both — Daemon was clearly making fun of her inexperience, finding it funny that she had never had anyone’s fingers on her slit before, but Rhaenyra did not care. Feeling his large hand under her skirt, knowing he could feel how wet she was — it was maddening.

She wanted to crawl out of her skin — so desperate she was for something, not entirely sure what exactly. But she still knew it was happening — she was finally getting introduced to the world of adult fun, and this kitchen, her uncle standing between her legs, his hands on her — they were her ticket into a wonderland.

“Baelon is a fool,” he murmured. “You are such a beautiful girl, Rhaenyra. And every girl has a demanding, weeping cunt that needs to be fed.”

His crude language, the way he whispered profanities as if she was not his niece — they made Rhaenyra dizzy and delirious. She had always known Daemon had a certain reputation as an inveterate womaniser, but even in her wildest dreams, she had not dared imagine he would be talking this way to her .

When he pushed her panties to the side, she could only sigh. There was nothing separating her from his fingers now, and he seemed to enjoy the fact — Rhaenyra heard him chuckle as he dragged his digits up and down her slit, eliciting another gasp from her as she felt a bolt of pleasure go all over her body.

“Let him play his GTA,” Daemon said quietly. “I will play with you instead.”

The image of her boyfriend’s hands on his controller immediately faded from her memory — she could not be bothered to think about Baelon at such a moment. She would gladly take his father’s hands instead.

And they were definitely better, Rhaenyra could already tell. Baelon had never touched her there , but she simply knew that her cousin’s fingers could not match Daemon’s — her uncle’s were larger, better, and more experienced. He did not fumble with her underwear, did not falter, did not spend any extra time figuring out where he should be touching her.

It was the touch of a man who had seen and felt a great many cunts — and Rhaenyra swallowed thickly, imagining all the years of his experience resulting in him pleasuring her.

His thumb brushed her clit — a gentle stroke, something more akin to teasing than real effort. Rhaenyra bit her lower lip, unsure if she could stifle her sighs — she wanted to squirm and writhe on the cool granite of the counter already, and Daemon had barely begun.

She realised he was not even looking down there, simply moving with remarkable confidence, but keeping his eyes fixed on her face. He did not need to see to please her — and it was incredible, how she was not some kind of complicated device to him that required a manual, or else it would not start.

He had made her start immediately. 

“You are such a pretty girl, Rhaenyra,” her uncle repeated his praise. “I hope you will forgive your boyfriend for not being able to give you this. Boys take time, as I have told you, and while they grow, there are men to take care of you.”

Rhaenyra was not sure how something borderline predatory could sound so hot to her, but she could swear his words had only made her wetter, her cunt desperate for action. Had she been alone, she would have grabbed a cheap vibrator she kept in her drawer already, but she could not — she was in her uncle’s kitchen, completely at his mercy, being dismantled by him.

Slowly, he pushed one finger inside her — and Rhaenyra gasped, for it was larger than her own, and it certainly brought a different sensation. The angle was better, too — she could feel way more this way compared to touching herself in bed, hiding under covers.

“It’s true,” Daemon continued. “Boys often don’t know what to do with pretty cunts like yours, and it can be so disappointing when the buttons don’t get hit the way they are supposed to, mhm?”

She was not sure if it was a question or a statement — either way, she could not reply, looking down, at how his hand disappeared under her skirt, at how the veins on his forearm bulged. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and Rhaenyra felt like she might start drooling at the sight of his muscular arms and the lines, the ridges visible on them.

He was keeping her firmly in one place with his other hand, pressing on her thigh. Rhaenyra was not sure that was enough, though, and she contemplated reaching out to touch him — but she was afraid he would stop, would pull away if she dared press her hands to his chest or hold onto his shoulders.

Instead, she gripped the edge of the counter so hard that her knuckles turned white — but she did not feel any pain, any tension other than the ravenous need in her lower abdomen, somewhere Daemon was trying to reach with his finger.

“Such a good girl you are, Princess,” Daemon whispered into her neck, lowering his head. “Top of your class, cheer captain, dating your cousin, your father’s pride, are you not?”

Rhaenyra thought about ruining her own perfect image by this — surely, good girls did not sit with their legs open while their uncles fingered them with vigour.

But she felt bold and needy — even though this was incredible, more than she could have hoped for, but Rhaenyra loved it when her uncle spoiled her, so she breathed out a plea:

“More, Daemon. Please.”

He laughed softly — such a melodic sound! — and rubbed her clit again, ceasing the movement of his index finger to play with her folds instead. However, he quickly aligned the second digit with her entrance.

“I swear, I have never had a girl as wet as you are, Rhaenyra. Are you like this for my son or for me?”

She knew that his course of action would depend on her answer — and yes, she wanted to feel two fingers inside, wanted to be stretched and satisfied, but she also knew it was the truth.

Never had Baelon made her feel like this — not because he had not touched her, no. It was more than that — even in all her fantasies, when she imagined Baelon’s hands all over her, even when he squeezed her thigh in the back of his car, even when he kissed her deeply and lovingly, she never expected to be so eager and needy.

Porn, imagination, promise in Baelon’s lips and hands — they had never made her so wet.

“Only for you, Uncle,” she let out, her voice unrecognisable. 

He was pleased with her answer — of course, he was — and with a smug smirk, he pushed the second finger inside, adjusting them and then curling them.

Oh fuck.

Rhaenyra tossed her head back — it was impossible to hold out for any longer. He was making her so full, two of his fingers the thickest thing that had ever been inside her. Rhaenyra was not entirely sure how they even fit inside her, but with the way she was dripping all over his hand, it was probably not that difficult to push past the resistance of her untrained muscles.

Fuck, the quelching sound was obscene but so, so arousing.

She dissolved in the sound, in the sensation — it felt incredible, and Rhaenyra knew she would come soon. Daemon knew it, too, clearly being able to read the signs of her inexperienced body, and when he started rubbing circles on her clit again, she was flying.

Rhaenyra had explored herself before — it was a given for her, and she had long lost any shame about masturbating. After all, how was she supposed to know what she liked in bed if she did not know how to please herself?

But this — this was everything and more. No orgasm brought by her own fingers could compare to the feeling of Daemon moving his digits inside her, moving them at a ruthless pace, all while stroking her clit, almost torturing it. Every time he pushed his fingers inside, he seemed to go deeper and deeper, and Rhaenyra was not sure how she could even have them there, did not know how many sensitive spots were inside her cunt, but they seemed to all be stimulated simultaneously. 

“Yes, just like that,” he encouraged her, although she could barely hear him. She wanted to scream — but instead, she settled for a stifled moan, for biting her lower lip, for choking on her own cries of pleasure. She knew she had to be quiet, but she was not sure anyone could really remain silent through this.

Her eyes were firmly shut, and she saw stars — Rhaenyra had thought it was a grave overestimation of the sensation, for no matter how hard and quick she was rubbing her clit when having alone time, she never felt so much. With Daemon, she was coming and coming, and the feeling did not seem to end.

She knew full well Baelon would not give her this — and she could not even believe she had been ready to settle for anything less than this overwhelming sensation of complete fullness.

Daemon grabbed the back of her neck, jerking her head up. This made Rhaenyra open her eyes, and, still breathing heavily and struggling to focus her blurry vision, she looked at him.

He was smirking, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Rhaenyra could not tear her eyes off him — he was so handsome, so determined to please her.

“Will you tell anyone about this, Princess?” He asked in a quiet whisper.

Rhaenyra shook her head and bit her lower lip. Of course, she would not — she would not want to get Daemon in trouble, especially not for something that felt so fantastic. 

“Scout’s honour?”

Rhaenyra nodded — and quickly realised it was nothing but a trap.

Daemon pushed the third finger inside her — and Rhaenyra gasped, immediately overwhelmed. She wanted to crawl away from him — he was being mean now, and it hurt, and having three of his large, thick fingers was too much for her, for her first time.

Was that what Baelon’s friends called a combo attack?

He held her in place, not allowing her to move, forcing her to take the punishment of his hand as a blessing.

But she could not protest — nothing coherent escaped her mouth, and she was simply whimpering, whining, unable to fight the mounting sensation of pleasure that transpired even through the uncomfortable stretch.

Rhaenyra could not have predicted it was possible to be close to passing out from coming — but she was on the verge of fainting now, she was sure, having lost count of how many peaks Daemon had brought her to. Were they even distinguishable? It felt like she was coming and coming, and even the squelching sound had ceased, for she was so full of him that she thought she might fall apart.

This kind of pleasure was not even about precision in the curl of his fingers, not about him moving them slightly, hitting the sensitive spots inside her — it was about fullness, first and foremost, about how she was so sure she could not do it anymore, but Daemon was still moving his hand, making sure she gave him her all.

It was her uncle’s call when she was done — and he withdrew his hand quickly, without warning, just like he invaded her in the first place.

Rhaenyra sighed at the sensation of emptiness — it felt like she would be forever rearranged from now on, open because of him and lusting for more. Her heavy breathing, her sweaty forehead, the hair sticking to her face, the rawness of her throat — all this had ceased to exist, and she only cared for the ache between her legs, for the throbbing of her clit and for her red, puffy folds. 

Through half-shut eyelids, she watched Daemon lick his fingers — the sight of him doing this was enough to rekindle her desire, and she was burning again in an instant, ready to whimper and beg him for more.

If this felt so good, then she could not imagine how wonderful it must be to be fucked for real.

Her uncle stroked her cheek, helping her come to her senses. “You are a sweet girl. Go now, have some fun — I am sure you can do it now that you are not so famished.”

Rhaenyra did not want to move, though. She did not know if Baelon or his pals had noticed her absence, if they even wondered where she was. They could keep playing all night for all she cared — even though she still wanted to do the real thing tonight, she would not be as annoyed with her cousin now.

Even if this did not work tonight, she would still be satisfied. A trip to the kitchen had surely made her full.

For a split second, she wondered what it would feel like to be fucked by Daemon. She had thought about it before, much to her mortification and arousal, but those musings and images were vague, offering little detail. Now that Rhaenyra knew how well his fingers fit inside her cunt, how ruthless and harsh she could be with her without even properly fucking her, she wanted to have a full picture.

However, she was pushing her luck with this, and it was already a miracle that her uncle had taken pity on her and given her this — a mind-blowing multitude of orgasms that Rhaenyra would surely never forget.

“Do you think he will realise what I want from him?” Rhaenyra grumbled, slowly getting off the counter. It felt like she was flowing off it, reduced to a puddle, for her limbs were lax, and she felt so very indolent.

Daemon smiled and offered her his hand for stability. “Baelon is a teenage boy, Rhaenyra. He is at the peculiar age of wanting to impress his friends more than please his girlfriend. Give him some hints, show some initiative.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. Why did she have to do that? She showed none when Daemon approached her — clearly, it was possible for a man to understand what a woman wanted from him, and it was natural to play this lecherous game even without words.

This, however, was probably her answer — exactly what her uncle had been trying to tell her. Baelon was not a man; he was just a boy, and Rhaenyra sighed, realising that she had been putting too much faith in someone who was sixteen and kicking a ball or smashing buttons on a controller as a preferred pastime.

As she was about to leave, abandoning the grapes and the soda, thinking she desperately needed to go to the bathroom to clean her folds and thighs from the sticky fluid, Rhaenyra turned around and spoke again:

“Were you also like that, Uncle? When you were sixteen?”

At that, Daemon laughed loudly and shook his head. “No, Princess. I was not seen anywhere near a football field or with a controller in my hand. When I was sixteen, my sport of choice was fucking, darling, and I would have never picked a game over a cheer captain. The only aim I cared about was not in Call of Duty.”

She snorted — this, she could easily believe about her uncle. He was exactly the type of person she wished she could date now.

***

Hints did not help. Even firmly putting his hand on her thigh did not help. All the cuddles and snuggling, all the kisses she placed on his neck, all the languid sighs and long stares — they were wasted on this boy.

Rhaenyra could not believe the evening was ending just like that — with Baelon falling asleep next to her but not after they had done the deed. He was happy to kiss her, happy to hold her close as they cuddled, but no matter how hard she tried to allude to doing something more today, he did not seem to care.

Perhaps she should have spelt it out for him — but gods, it was so embarrassing. She did not want to appear pathetic and begging for a teenage boy to fuck her and relieve her of her virginity.

Why could Daemon understand everything without words, just by looking at her? It was enough for him to simply see her to know what she came for — why could Baelon not inherit his father’s shrewdness?

He had the face — a very kissable one, the one that was pleasant to look at. He had the physique — the only benefit of all those football practices. 

Still, Baelon seemed to lack the wits.

Rhaenyra was tossing and turning in bed. Baelon’s friends had gone to bed, scattering into different guest bedrooms, and she was allowed to stay in with her boyfriend — Daemon was considerate and very sympathetic to her cause, ignoring the fact she did not go to the bedroom that was usually considered hers when the lights were turned off. 

Even in this, he was trying to help her — but this just was not working.

What more could he do? Rhaenyra could not imagine him talking to Baelon directly and telling him about her desire — the thought was nauseating, for it spoke of defeat. It would mean she was incapable of even losing her virginity on her own terms, without having to resort to her uncle’s help.

But as she thought about it again, she felt her heart beat faster and faster.

The pool of liquid fire in her lower belly was heating up again, the filthy images filling her mind. No, she would not ask Daemon to talk to Baelon or to guide him.

She would ask him for another thing.

After all, he had already fucked her with his fingers, making her pant like a dog on that kitchen counter that now would forever make her rub her thighs together at the sight of it. Daemon knew what she came for — and if Baelon could not get the job done, who was responsible for that?

Surely, as a parent, he had to take the blame and fix the mistakes of his offspring.

Carefully, Rhaenyra got out of bed and tiptoed out of the room. Baelon might be content with his games and snacks, with jokes and loud rap music constituting a sleepover, but Rhaenyra was not letting this slide.

She was not leaving this house a virgin.

Her plan had derailed, yes, but the hope was not yet lost. Daemon seemed to be eager enough to show her a glimpse of pleasure, so how difficult could it be to persuade him to give her more ?

She had already promised not to tell anyone, and having had three of his fingers inside her cunt, Rhaenyra was fairly confident she could take his cock as well.

The thought made her salivate, and she wetted her lips. She just knew he was well-endowed — there was no way a man like her uncle did not have a huge dick that he knew how to use proficiently. 

Fuck, she was getting ahead of herself, but in her defence, it was impossible not to — a girl had needs, after all, he said it himself.

Rhaenyra did not bother knocking — if he were sleeping, she would simply slide under the covers and wake him up by rubbing herself against him. Daemon was a man, and she did not doubt that it was etched into his brain to want when there was a pretty girl grinding herself, demanding attention.

However, he was not asleep yet. Her uncle was in bed, shirtless, reading a book in his glasses. Rhaenyra was not sure she had ever seen him wear them, but gods, did he look hot even with them on — maybe especially with them on. 

“Rhaenyra?” Daemon turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. Clearly, he was surprised to see her sneak in so brazenly, but she was past having any shame.

“You said you knew what I came for,” Rhaenyra said, coming closer to the bed and keeping her eyes on him. “And I still seem to be in possession of something I desperately want to be rid of.”

She guessed she could simply lay it out for him, could ask and speak plainly — but she did not want to, neither with Baelon nor with him. Rhaenyra liked the idea of a chase, of a game, of flirting, of some banter — and she might be inexperienced, but the prelude to the act excited her just as much as the act itself.

Rhaenyra could not wait to learn all the secrets, and she seemed to have a perfect teacher for that — someone who understood signs, hints and secret codes, someone who was wise enough not to turn a destitute girl down.

He had helped her earlier today, relieving her from some frustration, but he had also ignited her — and he had to take responsibility, like the mature, adult, older man he was.

Daemon took off his glasses and carefully put them on the bedside table. He was not sending her away — but neither was he inviting her to jump into his bed. Rhaenyra tried to read his emotions, but his face was a mask, and she could not discern a thing.

Would he send her away with shame?

Would he rise up to the challenge?

“I thought you would be happily done by now, Princess.”

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. “You know nothing has happened.”

“I was trying very hard not to listen.”

He was charming like that — a slight curl to his lips, the knowing glisten in his eyes. Her uncle knew full well she and Baelon had not taken that step, that his son had not given her what she wanted. Still, he enjoyed teasing her — and Rhaenyra found herself enjoying being teased.

“Well, had you listened, all you would have heard would be silence, Uncle. A disappointing one.”

Daemon nodded at the empty space in the bed next to him — and Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat. He was inviting her into it, if only for a chat or more thorough scolding, but it was happening.

She fought the urge to leap into it, unwilling to show her eagerness. All this was supposed to be a titillating game, a fun part of chasing and running away, pushing and pulling. Baelon did not know how to play it; no one from her friends knew, but in the world of clueless boys, Daemon was a man.

When she knelt on the bed, enjoying the softness of his bedsheets, he measured her with his gaze, a tiny smirk on his face.

“You are a hungry one, aren’t you?”

“Starving, Uncle.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, my son’s girlfriend? What a scandal.”

It did not escape her how he did not seem to mind fucking his niece — and it made her grin, for she, too, had no moral qualms about letting her uncle take her virginity.

The only requirement for it was that the partner should be hot, and Daemon certainly was.

“He doesn’t seem to know how to do it. His education must have been lacking, an oversight on his father’s part.”

Daemon narrowed his eyes and reached out to stroke her cheek. “Gods, this sharp tongue. Why should I do it, Princess? Baelon will do it in due time when he is ready. There is nothing good about rushing things, have your parents not told you this?”

But this was the thing — she was not rushing anything. No, she had been waiting, patiently waiting, and perhaps it was not Baelon she had been waiting for, perhaps it was him. 

“What about my desire, Uncle? Should it not be honoured?”

“And what do you desire, little niece?”

Rhaenyra thought it was obvious, but Daemon seemed to like it when his ego was stroked, when she sang him praises — they were not so dissimilar in this aspect, after all.

“You.”

This, apparently, had done the trick, for he reached out to pull the long shirt she used for sleeping over her head. Rhaenyra let out a quiet gasp of surprise, for everything seemed to be happening quickly now, and even though she absolutely did not mind it, the change of pace took her aback nonetheless.

She was still wearing her bra, having decided that Baelon would be more likely to take an interest in her if her tits were in their best condition, but it had proven to be useless as well. Daemon, however, chuckled when he put his hands on her hips.

“A matching set of lacy lingerie, unbelievable. My son is really getting hit on his head too much because gods, Rhaenyra.”

His hands were on the clasp of her bra in an instant — and, of course, he did not fumble with it. There was no clumsiness in his movements, and the garment gave in effortlessly, making Rhaenyra sigh — the bra was pretty and sexy but also a fucking cage.

Everything about her uncle was manly, not boyish, and Rhaenyra swallowed thickly when he took her bra off, revealing her breasts. Being regarded with such avidity and fervour was not entirely unusual — teenage boys did not know how to hide their salacious gazes — but it was infinitely different.

This was her uncle seeing her properly for the first time, her curves, her lines, her true colours. He had felt her back in the kitchen, and even though his fingers had been on his most private parts, he had not explored her fully.

He looked rather impressed by her — and Rhaenyra grinned, satisfied by his reaction to her nudity. When his hands cupped her breasts, she trembled — because it was endlessly more pleasant than Baelon’s touch, which now seemed almost shy to her, too bashful to be enjoyable.

Having her tits squeezed through a cotton shirt and without layers of fabric was completely different — this was heavenly, appreciative. Daemon seemed to take in the sight of her, the way she was built, and every second he spent looking at her with such adoration filled her with pride.

She did not care if he looked the same way at every other woman he fucked in this bed — tonight, it was her turn, and she wanted to get the most out of it.

Daemon pinched her nipples, making her quietly yelp. The sensation was strange but not completely unwelcome — there was something arousing about him using pressure on these sensitive buds. 

“You are a really determined girl, aren’t you, Princess? Getting exactly what you want with such ease.”

Rhaenyra did not even bother to hide her shameless grin — and the next thing she knew, Daemon had pulled her down, making her fall onto the bed. 

He was looming over her, his perfect face right above hers, and she thought he might kiss her now — but no, he was not done talking.

“I can give you what you want, darling. On one condition, though.”

She was ready to promise him everything for this — she was so desperate for it that she would pay any price, agree to any offer, and sacrifice whatever he wanted from her. It was probably the opposite of healthy, a deranged and unhinged kind of thinking, but she had not gone so far only to give up now.

“What is it?”

Daemon dipped his head and whispered directly into her ear, sending shivers down her spine: “I will need you to keep quiet, Princess. I have a son sleeping behind the wall, you know.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “I was rather quiet in the kitchen today, wasn’t I? And you can always keep me silent if I break the rule.”

She had never seen it before, but it was fascinating — pure, unadulterated lust in Daemon’s gaze was both scary and incredibly attractive. He wanted her, and it was obvious, and it made Rhaenyra’s heart flutter.

There was nothing awkward about him taking off his boxers and reaching into the drawer for a condom. There was nothing sloppy about his kisses and the way he sucked on her tits — fuck, she had never expected to be so turned on by it, and it felt both filthy and sweet, making her obscenely wet in an instant. There was nothing clumsy about how he pushed her thighs apart, having dragged her underwear down.

Everything was perfect, and Rhaenyra could not believe this was only the first time she was doing it.

With him, all this seemed to come to her naturally, and even if they did not talk, Daemon seemed to sense everything he needed in her without asking a single question.

She had also been right about the size of him — he looked absolutely impressive, and Rhaenyra could not wait to feel his cock inside her. The bulbous tip, the ridges, the prominent veins — she regretted not being skilful enough to take it in her mouth as well, for it would surely make her jaws hurt, but something inside her screamed that she needed it.

Her eyes were fixed on his cock when he caressed her thigh, not rushing anything, not pushing her to take it already — and she liked it, too, how they were not reluctant or hesitant but appreciative of each other, taking their time not because they did not know what to do but because they wanted it to last.

His fingers treaded her silver curls, and he smiled. 

“I noticed them back in the kitchen. A rare sight these days — just natural beauty as it is, not ruined by a razor.”

Rhaenyra swallowed hard, remembering her hesitation about doing something to that part of herself. Keeping her hair trimmed seemed like the best option — and good thing she listened to her gut, for Daemon seemed to appreciate her curls, playing with them as much as he played with her clit.

“Boys these days watch too much porn,” he said, pushing one finger inside her cunt, as if he was checking if she was ready to take him, as if it would fit.  “Expect everyone to be clean-shaved, smooth and devoid of any uniqueness. But you, Rhaenyra — you have a very beautiful cunt. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, ever.”

Daemon praised every part of her — and she fed on his words hungrily, needy for his compliments and approval. Rhaenyra could not help but smile, swimming in the warm sea of his attention. 

It felt so fucking good, and he had not even entered her yet.

“There are two types of men, you know,” he continued, adding the second finger. The stretch was already familiar, even though it still made Rhaenyra wince a bit, the soreness caused by their antics from earlier resurfacing. “The ones who enjoy the result and the ones who enjoy the process. All boys are the former, but it’s way better to lose your virginity with the latter.”

She nodded — she knew Baelon would not do this to her, would not be so worshipping, would not know how to combine force and tenderness, would not know where to guide her. With Daemon, she could simply relax and let him take care of her.

Maybe this was the reason so many girls were in pain the first time — they did not trust their partners to take care of them and did not believe their boys would know how to make it better for them.

But Rhaenyra did — and this was why when he put on the condom and started pressing his cock inside her, she was not afraid, was not trying to squeeze all her muscles and push out the intrusion. She was open for him, spreading her legs even further, willing to welcome him fully.

It did not exactly hurt — the sensation was unusual, different to even having three fingers inside, but it was liberating. Rhaenyra sighed when Daemon’s tip broke into her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, making sure he would not pull away.

It was not easy to take him — she would be lying if she said her uncle’s cock could just slide inside her without any resistance. Rhaenyra had to breathe through it, had to ignore the burn of the stretch and the soreness he had left her with earlier.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” he breathed out into her neck, and Rhaenyra took it as an encouragement — another praise, another compliment. She wanted to feel him whole, wanted to let him bury himself inside her to a hilt, so she rolled her hips, desperate to take more of him.

He obeyed her silent, passionate wish — and just seconds later, he was fully inside her, exhaling loudly in immense pleasure. Rhaenyra bit back a long, lewd moan — fuck, why had no one told her before that it could be so incredible to have a cock inside her?

It was done, then — she was no longer a virgin, impaled on her uncle’s dick. Selfishly, she wished he had entered her without any protection, for she wished to feel him, feel him fully — but she understood why he did what he did, and despite her brattiness, she was grateful for it.

She did not even have to ask or worry about him putting on a condom — he just did it, once again so unlike the boys who, as Rhaenyra had heard many times, incessantly complained about the latex being uncomfortable or preventing them from coming.

Then, Daemon started moving — and somehow, it was even better.

Rhaenyra came into this house today with hopes of losing her virginity but without high standards. She had expected Baelon to be careful and gentle, both of them sufficiently awkward, and she had been prepared for a potential need to teach her boyfriend a bit about her pleasure, showing him how she liked to be touched.

But her uncle did not seem to care about how she liked it — he did not have to ask, he did not need any guidance or trial runs because somehow, he fucking knew exactly what she wanted, and this alone was the most attractive thing about a man Rhaenyra had ever registered.

Her sighs and his grunts filled the room, and Rhaenyra was carried away by the sounds. It truly made her feel like an adult — she could pretend she was one of Daemon’s flings, getting fucked while his son slept, something that must have happened many times in this very bed. Tonight, it was her turn, and it made her more mature than even sex with Baelon ever could — she was not only losing her innocence today, she was also trying on the role of an adult woman, a partner in a relationship, no matter how brief.

Daemon was treating her like one of his women — which meant treating her like she was finally more than just a niece. This spoke of some equality, and even if they went back to their dynamic the moment it was done, the moment he rolled off her and they both went to sleep, in the heat of the moment, she was his equal, dancing the same dance, participating in it and not just lying in bed, waiting for it to be over.

“Girls aren’t controllers or keyboards that can be smashed,” Daemon murmured, his hand travelling to where their bodies joined, pressing on her lower belly, just above her mound. The additional pressure made Rhaenyra moan, and she threw her head back. “One needs to know which buttons to press and how much force to apply. It’s a fine art, really.”

Somehow, it made sense to Rhaenyra that Daemon would be proficient with a controller as much as with a woman’s body, despite all his condescending jokes about Baelon. Certainly, such calloused and clever fingers knew their way about a great many things.

And gods, he definitely knew how to operate his joystick.

She was being rearranged from the inside, his cock carving space for itself within her walls, hitting every spot inside her, and when Daemon started rubbing her clit again, she felt like she might quite literally die, overwhelmed by pleasure.

A cry of passion escaped her lips, for Rhaenyra instantaneously forgot about Daemon’s only rule when the mounting bliss became impossible to contain. It did not last, though — his other hand travelled to her mouth. He clasped his palm over it, silencing her and forcing her to breathe through the nose.

“Told you to be quiet, sweetheart.”

It was impressive, how effortlessly easy it seemed to be for him — Daemon knew how to maintain his balance, how to thrust deep and hard inside her, how to keep up the pace he had set for himself. The drops of sweat appeared on his chest, and Rhaenyra regretted he had moved further from her, preventing her from licking them — that would keep her mouth busy, and she would not be screaming.

But seeing him like this was also incredible — his strong chest, his muscular arms, his hips slamming into her. Daemon looked right at home between her legs, and she could not think of a better place for her uncle to spend his night.

He could take her whenever he wanted, she declared in her mind as she arched her back, feeling the premonition of her orgasm. He could turn her into his slut or booty call, could take her from the front and from behind, use her for his every dirty fantasy, every deranged need. Baelon was forgotten, and so were his stupid friends, and all she wanted from now on was to be fucked, day and night.

Only a man could give her this, she knew.

Rhaenyra came violently, biting on Daemon’s large fingers. Her legs were shaking, her whole body convulsing — she had previously thought it was only possible in porn — to see women come so hard that their knees were weak and their toes curled. But fuck, this was happening to her, right now, and the wave of pleasure seemed never-ending and all-consuming.

She had read that it was very difficult for a girl to come during her first time, but as Rhaenyra felt Daemon keep pounding into her with force, she thought it really was a skill issue.

She did not have any problems with that because she knew whom to ask.

But the best part of the night was probably seeing her uncle come — how his handsome face twitched, how he bit his lower lip, choking on a loud groan that threatened to escape his throat, how he threw his head back, how his hips slammed into her one last time before stilling. Rhaenyra lamented the fact she could not feel him fill her up with his cum, something primal waking up in her and demanding to be fed man’s seed, but even without this detail, it was absolutely glorious.

Somehow, Daemon managed to look even more gorgeous this way — she was not sure how this man did it, but pleasure suited him.

He moved away from her, releasing her hips, removing his hand from her mouth, and Rhaenyra inhaled sharply. She was out of breath, her lungs lacking oxygen, but it was all so worth it.

She did not know what was supposed to happen now — the lack of experience was showing, and she just lay there awkwardly, her legs still wide open, because she did not want to move, did not want this moment to end.

Rhaenyra knew she should sneak into a shower, quickly wash away the evidence of her triumph, put on the shirt, and climb back into Baelon’s bed, but all that seemed unnecessary and mundane to her.

Daemon reappeared in her sight again with a paper towel, leaning forward to clean her up — gods, she was so sensitive that she winced when he touched her folds. Still, she was grateful for the aftercare.

“You are so sweet, Rhaenyra,” he said quietly, echoing his praise from earlier. “Hope your first time did not disappoint.”

She huffed. Playing coy did not suit her uncle — he knew she was anything but disappointed. In fact, having a first time with anyone but him would have been a waste.

He did not urge her to leave — even though they both knew she had to, that she might have got a treatment similar to one of his women, but she could not have the luxury of falling asleep with him. Still, he was giving her time and space, not treating her like a chore or duty that was over now.

Maybe someday in the future, Rhaenyra promised herself, this would change. Daemon was her uncle, he was not going to disappear from her life in a puff of smoke with the first morning light. Surely, there would be opportunities, especially when she was older.

She would use every occasion to her advantage — and she would do everything to ensure this was not the first and the last time he had sex with her.

Her musings were interrupted by a quiet laughter escaping Daemon’s lips.

“Gods, having a son was one of the best decisions of my life, I swear. Can’t believe he is still helping me to get laid.”

***

Rhaenyra Targaryen had later discovered it was possible to lose her virginity more than once — in fact, she could do it as many times as she wanted, for men were gullible, and young men even more so.

But only once did it feel truly enjoyable — and Rhaenyra always smiled at her Uncle Daemon whenever they were in the same room, forever grateful for a beautiful experience that truly showed her stars.