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springdandelixn · 2 years

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The Cafe by the Narrow Sea - Chapter 2

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40737783/chapters/102209175

Jorah x Daenerys

Rating has been changed to EXPLICIT. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1

JORAH

Being an investor for several years now, Jorah has experienced ups and downs with every business venture he lodges himself into. Some business owners are grateful for his kindness, making good use of the resources he’s provided, which makes him truly happy. While others can be quite abusive, leeching him for more to use for personal gain in disguise of using it for business.

But nothing ever gets past Jorah as he always has a backup plan, especially when dealing with shady personalities. Holding them on a tight leash and caging them like rats to ensure that everything he’s projected comes to fruition.

That’s the reason he receives a nasty look from Myranda, the cafe owner, as he sits in her office at the cafe, a smirk playing on his lips as his finger runs along the surface of his tea cup.

“So what you’re saying is, either your expectations are met or not, forty percent of total revenue, excluding the point-two percent that you will be receiving monthly, will be given to the employees.”

Jorah nods, tilting his head to the side as he listens. “Correct.”

“But the business will be left with sixty to spend! What of the ingredients? The repairs? We’ll go bankrupt before the year even ends.” She reasons and Jorah couldn’t help but sigh.

Reaching out a hand to his side, Jorah thanks Jaime when he places a manila folder in his grasp, opening it before tossing several sheets of paper on the table in front of him.

“I had my accountant review your numbers for the past five years, and frankly, I’m surprised that your cafe is such a shit show behind closed doors despite the revenue you receive on a yearly basis.” He begins and crosses one leg over the other as he rests an elbow on the arm of his seat. “Only forty percent is used for the entirety of your store and I can already guess where the remaining sixty goes, considering you own several properties in Dorne and High Garden. Such an upscale place for a simple cafe owner to be in, don’t you think?” Jorah tuts. “But if you can afford such luxuries, how come your staff is still overworked and underpaid? The two ovens at the back still broken? Ingredients bought in Flea Bottom Market? Even Hot Pie’s Bistro has better resources than you and they’re barely known in the city.”

“You did a background check on me? That’s invasion of private information!”

“No. That’s business.” Jorah yawns. “If I’m going to be putting my money somewhere, Don’t I have the right to know who I will be giving it to?”

The woman stays quiet but her eyes are daggers when he looks at her.

“Do we have an agreement then?” Jorah asks, moving to stand from his seat, and blinks when the contract is thrown at his feet.

“We don’t.” Myranda spits and Jorah shakes his head, picking up the stapled papers. “I don’t need your money. You can shove it somewhere else.”

Jorah sighs and flips the contract in his hand, a sinister smile slowly playing on his lips. “Very well. But who’s to say a customer, one who has a big media presence, won’t see rats running around the store when they come to visit? Maybe some roaches too if they’re lucky?”

Myranda gasps and slams her fist on her table as she stares Jorah down. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t dare what?” He challenges, tapping his finger against the papers before facing the woman once again. “And based on my research, you’re trying to be friends with Lady Olena’s granddaughter, right? Attending the High Garden Soiree every year?” The way Myranda gapes at his words makes him feel excited to know he’s got her where he wants him. “Margaery Tyrell and I go a long way back, and from the way I know her, she only surrounds herself with people with class. How do you think she’ll react when she finds out that the person who’s trying to get into her inner circle is an owner of a cafe infested by rodents?” Jorah chuckles. “She wouldn’t go a mile radius of you or your business.”

“That’s blackmail!” Myranda shrills.

“No, Darling. It’s business.” He smirks when he sees the woman bow her head in defeat. And it thrills him to witness how she slowly succumbs to his demands. They always do. “So, I ask you again,” He places the contract back on the table, sliding it closer to Myranda. “Do we have an agreement?”

And Jorah does see the changes take place in the cafe. Happy to see Sansa being all giddy when she tells him that she can finally work better in the kitchen, the store smelling like lemons every time he comes to visit to check on the small renovations that they requested. The tea tastes even richer from what he’s remembered as Missandei tells him of the new brand they’ve taken to purchase instead of the loose tea leaves they usually grab from the public market. But what really makes him happy is when Daenerys tells him that she can finally save up for college. That they all received a pay raise, even the staff members he barely sees, enough to really live and not just survive.

But that’s not enough for Jorah.

Yes, it makes him happy that Daenerys can finally start working on fulfilling her dreams and aspirations since coming to the country, but what he wants that it’s him to provide her with such things. To completely have her and give her the life he knows she deserves. But how can he do so when she’s still with that rockstar-wannabe boyfriend of hers, who continues being the bane of his existence.

He doesn’t ask Daenerys about him again after their dinner on her birthday. He never tries to bring it up knowing that it would only anger him more that he can’t have what he truly wants. Her. The only bright side he saw since admitting his feelings to Daenerys is that he can see that she wants him too, that she craves having the life he’s offered her that night. But he also sees the fear in her eyes when the low-life picks her up from the cafe, either in a sour mood or possessed by a horny teenager.

Jorah stops himself from beating the life out of that kid and taking Daenerys for himself every time he sees him, not because of fear for the man, he could shoot him in the head and he wouldn’t have even a shred of remorse in him, but for fear that if he ceases the boy’s ability to draw a breath that he would scare Daenerys away.

So he does what he does best.

Attack in secret.

The Mockingbird is one of the most upscale clubs in The Eyrie. Just like Casa Martell, everyone who is everyone, local or otherwise, would be willing to spend an insane amount of money just to get in and have the time of their life. But despite his dislike of such scenery, Jorah comes and goes on several occasions for this is one of the most secure places he knows that secrets can be exchanged and kept safe. And the person he gets those secrets from for his business transactions owns the place, his dear friend, Petyr Baelish.

The loud music of the club begins to invade his ears as he walks up the steps, the bouncers and the receptionist letting him through upon recognition. He should have known this is where Sansa would choose when he told the girls they should celebrate the changes happening in the cafe. It was the most obvious choice, not because Sansa is dating the owner, but because Missandei wouldn’t stop talking about it when he asked where the celebration should be held.

He shoots Daenerys a text, asking where they were inside the club and it doesn’t come as a surprise when she tells him that they have a private booth on the upper floors.

“Mr. Mormont!” Olyvar calls out to him, almost shouting above the music when he reaches the top of the stairs. The blond man then leans closer to him, his lips beside his ears. “Mr. Baelish is waiting for you in his office.”

“Very well.” Jorah acknowledges. “Which room are Sansa and her friends in?” He asks.

“The third one. I’ll let Mr. Baelish know that you’re already inside.”

Jorah nods to this and makes his way to Petyr’s office. As much as he’s excited to see Daenerys once again, she’ll have to wait for he knows that once Sansa gets her hands on his friend, there’s no separating them.

“Oh thank the gods for the quiet.” Jorah groans as he walks into Petyr’s office, dropping himself down on the seat in front of the large brown desk. “I don’t know how an old man like you can endure such racket.”

“Soundproofing.” Petyr simply responds, walking over to his decanter and holding it up in Jorah’s direction. “A drink, my friend?”

“Scotch, if you have it.”

He watches Petyr pour the dark liquid into an old-fashioned, thanking him as he takes it.

“Do you have the information I need?”

“Always to the point, I see.” Petyr remarks.

“There’s no point in lingering.” Jorah chuckles as he takes a welcome sip.

“Very well.” Petyr hums and walks back to his seat, opening up a drawer at his side and placing several photographs on his desk.

Jorah picks one up and hums in curiosity when he sees the face of Daario in monochrome, a paper bag in his hand while leaning against that hideous-looking Harley he remembers. Another photo is of him again, but this time, seemingly doing an exchange with a stranger. And another receiving a rolled-up bundle of bills.

“So, our boy’s a dealer,” Jorah says as he examines the photos once more. “You know who he works for?”

“That’s the best part.” He sees Petyr smirk. “He works for the Brotherhood.”

“Beric and his boys?” Jorah chuckles. “There must truly be gods then if he’s with the Brotherhood. They still owe me a favor from last time.”

“I know. And word on the street is, that none of Beric’s boys like him. Clegane most of all.”

“Well, Clegane barely likes anyone.”

“He likes you.” Petyr points out.

“I have money.” Jorah reasons.

“I have money but he hates me.”

“He’s in love with Sansa. Of course, he’ll hate you.” Jorah laughs and picks up the photo that shows Daario’s face from a closer perspective. “Just when I thought getting rid of him would be a pain in the neck, I’m served something so easy, even a child can do it.”

“He’s in Dorne right now though, delivering a package to the Martells. You could just ask one of Oberyn’s men to put a bullet between his eyes,” Petyr suggests. “Easy and quick, they can even make it look like an accident. A gang riot of some sort and you’ll have the girl by tomorrow morning.”

“Eh, I could. But that’s just boring.” Jorah hums, his fingers taking hold of the rim of his glass as he swirls the contents in thought. “He burned Daenerys with his cigarette on her birthday. And killing him would just be showing him mercy.” He shakes his head and grunts when the memory of seeing the burn mark on her wrist comes to the forefront of his mind. “No, I want this asshole to suffer. Who knows what else he’s done to her.”

How Jorah regrets even thinking about what else Daenerys has gone through in Daario’s hands. The thought that she could have suffered more than just cigarette burns, or maybe something even worse, puts a sour taste in his mouth and makes him see red. Yes, he wants this man to suffer and feel every single pain he’s ever inflicted on Daenerys tenfold.

“What do you plan on doing then?” Petyr asks, his friend's green-grey eyes intent on him.

“Nothing. Yet. ” Jorah tosses the photo back on the desk. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But this information will be highly valuable to me.” He finishes his drink and moves to stand from his seat, running his hand down his navy jacket to smoothen out the wrinkles. “As always, my friend, thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Petyr says as he raises his glass towards Jorah. “I’ve never seen Sansa so excited to work.”

“She should be thanking Daenerys for that.” Jorah chuckles as he makes his way to the door. “I wouldn’t have considered investing in that shop if it wasn’t for her.”

“Jorah!”

He couldn’t help the wide grin forming on his lips when she immediately call his name, admiring how stunning she looks in a simple black dress, a shawl hanging from her arms, her amethyst eyes glowing underneath the strobe lights of the club, and her necklace sitting beautifully over her cleavage.

He walks across the private room, his eyes focused on her, ignoring the events happening around him before taking off his jacket to drape it on the vacant armchair and dropping himself down beside her on the plush couch. His arm stretches over the back of the seat and wraps possessively around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”

“For you, Love, I always will.” He says in a low voice before leaning over to press a soft kiss on her cheek. “How are you enjoying yourself?”

“This place is great.” She says over the music playing in the room. “I’ve always wanted to come here. Their margaritas are very good.” She raises the empty glass towards him, making him chuckle at how giddy Daenerys looks. “I hope you don’t mind that Missandei brought her boyfriend. His name’s Grey.”

That’s when Jorah truly looks around the room, noticing several empty glasses scattered on the black low-rise table in front of them, the two girls, who he assumes are the other employees, dancing by the floor-to-ceiling window of the room, Sansa already wrapped around Petyr, who he didn’t notice followed, at one corner, all smiles, and giggles while his friend whispers in the redhead's ear and her tanned friend, sitting on the lap of a tanned man in one of the single armchairs, making out in the midst of the commotion.

He’s never been surrounded by people their age, probably a decade or more younger than he is, but nevertheless, he enjoys the company of this group, the girls specifically as they’ve never treated him as someone much older, like how teenagers treat the parents of their friends. Probably because they’re used to Petyr, with him and Sansa being together, and he’s grateful that it’s extended to him, regardless of how complicated his relationship with Daenerys is.

“Would you like another drink?” He asks Daenerys, his lips closer to her ear as his thumb caresses her bare shoulder.

“Yes please.” She says with a giggle. “But after we dance.” She suddenly stands from her seat and grabs Jorah by the hand, pulling him up and leading him out the door.

They make their way to the crowd, bodies moving and grinding against each other as the DJ at the front announces the song, and everyone on the dancefloor screams in excitement. He’s never engaged in such events, even when he was a teenager himself, always focused on working and making a name for himself to make his family proud that a simple country boy in the north has made his way to success in the south.

When they get to the middle of the floor, Daenerys turns and looks at him with the happiest smile he’s seen on her and starts swaying her hips. The flashing lights of red, blue, and purple illuminating her from the crowd, like a goddess on fire as she throws her head back and forth, an enchanting sight for him to behold.

“Dance, Jorah!” She shouts to him over the music and grabs his hands, twirling herself around before clinging unto him, her hand resting on his shoulders as they both sway to the beat of the music.

The crowd then begins singing when the song reaches the second verse, Daenerys joining along and it exhilarates Jorah to see her so carefree and void of stress from her life, making him move his body more, mimicking the movements of the youth around him and joining in on the energy that Daenerys keeps exuding.

“You got a diamond heart, you’re a work of art. And nothing compares when I’m in your arms. Don’t go ‘cause we’ll never know.” She continues to sing and it brings a wide smile to Jorah’s face as he takes in the lyrics, giving life to the illusion that she’s singing this to him just as he sang that song to her on the night of her birthday.

He twirls her around once more and this time her back facing him, their bodies flush together as the crowd goes tighter, her giggles still reaching his ears despite the loud music coming from the speakers. He sways them together, their hips matching the rhythm of the music and he leans down closer to listen further to Daenerys’ song.

“And every Saturday night that you ain’t here my tears are blue. And these blinding lights they shine so bright like we’re on the moon. I don’t want to dance another beat, no, unless it’s with you.”

He chuckles and hears the chorus once more, the repetitive words engraving into his mind, allowing him to join in with the crowd, making Daenerys look up at him with a grin as he sings along to the song. She then turns to face him and snakes her arms around his neck, his sapphires meeting those beautiful purple orbs and the crowd slowly fades into the background as he centers his attention on her.

Thoughts of life with the woman in his arms come to life and he wants desperately to grab it. Never in his life has he wanted something so bad, so desperately, that it physically hurts him just to think that she would be going home to another man and not with him. That the emotions he has for Daenerys are worth so much more than the money he gets in his business, that he would gladly throw everything away just to have this woman and call her his.

It’s like time slows down when the smile on Daenerys’ lips disappears and what he sees in her eyes is hunger and desperation for him. He clings to her, his arm wrapped around her like a python, and meets her halfway into a passionate kiss. The crowd and the music going non-existent as he cradles her face with his hand, his lips moving eagerly against hers and their tongues creating an erotic dance of their own.

He feels himself harden and not a shred of embarrassment is present as he presses himself further against her, making her feel what she does to him. It makes him see the advantages of being in such a place, where no one would care what you do and how you look, people just enjoying themselves and being carefree as much as they want.

Their moment only gets cut off when he hears Daenery’s name being called over the music and a wolf whistle following right after, pulling away from each other just enough to see that it’s Sansa and Missandei waving at them from across the dance floor, Petyr nowhere in sight but Missandei’s boyfriend chugging down a beer while he stays close to his girl.

Daenerys laughs and hides her face against his chest, Jorah chuckling at her shyness as he waves to her friends who cheer him on before joining the crowd when the music shifts to something more upbeat.

“I’ll get that drink now, please.” She tells him and he smiles, moving to adjust his erection in his pants before taking Daenerys’ hand and leading her out of the dance floor and back to their room.

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to dance?” Jorah asks as they walk into the booth, taking their original seats. “You looked like a pro earlier.” He chuckles.

“I don’t know how to slow dance but I do know how to party.” Daenerys answers with a giggle before taking a sip of the margarita in her hand. “You were not so bad yourself. I didn’t know you partied.”

“I don’t but it’s pretty easy to follow when the one leading is such an expert.” He teases and sips on his liquor, the burning liquid a welcome taste to his mouth.

They then grow silent. Only the echo of the music from the dancefloor fills the room as Jorah looks head, watching the crowd bounce and throw their hands in the air to a song he doesn’t recognize.

He thinks if this is the right time to ask Daenerys about what he told her during dinner, about him wanting to be the man to take care of her, to provide for her. But he questions himself about such decision and stops, not wanting to put any pressure on her shoulders for he knows leaving someone you’ve spent years with is no easy task. Then again, if that person doesn’t respect nor honor you, shouldn’t it be much easier? To leave a life of pain and live one of happiness. To share it with someone who has pure intentions rather than ill.

The luck he felt since walking out of Petyr’s office seems to dwindle down as he contemplates his future with the woman beside him. Even if he erases Daario in the picture, would Daenerys be willing to go with him after? Not that it would be a waste, taking out that bastard would practically be doing her a favor. But what comes next? Will his desires be fulfilled or will he be kept wanting?

Jorah internally sighs as the thoughts of uncertainty plague him. Not for a woman, Jorah. He scolds himself. Though Daenerys is not just a woman. When he looks at her, he sees a goddess. A being the gods spent time to create. A woman born of fire yet harbors a gentle heart that sometimes when he looks at her, he can’t believe that she’s real.

“Jorah?”

He halts his train of thought from continuing further when he hears her call out his name, turning his head to face her and give her his undivided attention.

“I have been thinking.” She begins. “The night of my birthday, I’ve come to realize that that’s been the happiest I have ever been. And every single day after that, I keep looking forward to going to work because I know you would be there. That I would be able to spend time with you, even if it’s just for an hour or two.” She sighs, her head bowed down and her glass resting on her knee as her thumb caresses the crystal stem. “I haven’t seen Daario in a while and every time he asks me to go to his place, I refuse. I can’t be with him anymore, Jorah.” She then lifts her head and locks her eyes with his, her lilac orbs clouded with sadness and realization all at the same time. “I’m happiest when I’m with you. And I want to be with you. Completely be with you.”

“And Daario? What of him?” Jorah asks, the grip on his tumbler tightening.

Daenerys then turns and places her drink on the table, leaning to her side to grab a black purse and reaching in to take her phone. She then angles her body to have her back resting against him before tapping on the messenger app and searching up Daario in the existing conversions and watching her as she types ‘we’re done.’ on the blank space and hitting send.

Jorah blinks and grins at what he just witnessed, placing his drink beside hers before taking her phone from her hand and showing her the screen as he taps on the contacts and blocks Daario’s number before erasing it. He couldn’t believe that it was just that easy, that finally, the girl he’s been pining for months is now his. He didn’t even have to use the Brotherhood to get rid of him.

“Now that you have me,” Daenerys says in a soft whisper, her eyes looking glazed when he looks at them again. “What will you do with me?”

Jorah hums and tosses the phone back into her purse, his hand resting on her knee and gliding up her dress and a soft moan escaping her lips when he gives her thigh a hard squeeze. “I want to take you home and make you mine.”

Their desire for each other couldn’t wait as their lips meet as soon as the elevator doors to his building close. Never has he been with such a fiery woman. A woman who truly knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it. Even Margaery Tyrell is put to shame when Daenerys begins unbuttoning his shirt and freeing them from his trousers, her lips devouring his as his hands reach down to give her ass a rough squeeze.

They stumble into his flat as soon as the metal doors part, his hands reaching down to lift her from the ground as he walks them blindly towards his couch. Her bag and her shoes make a resounding thud as they drop to the floor while his shirt barely clings onto his arms when he lays her down on the gray chaise.

Jorah pulls away from the kiss, pulling himself free of his shirt as he feels his blood sing in arousal, his pants tightening as his erection screams to be free. He then places a hand on her shoulder when she reaches behind her to unzip the dress. “The dress stays.” He commands. “You look gorgeous in it.” He says in almost a growl before dropping to his knees and propping himself in between her legs.

“Jorah, please,” He hears Daenerys beg and it puts a grin on his face just to witness how much this woman wants him.

“Soon, Love.” He says softly, parting Daenerys’ legs and trailing kisses from her knee down to her inner thigh.

He sucks on each patch of skin his lips run through, savoring the taste of her milky flesh, painting them with love bites as he makes his way to the apex of her thighs. He couldn’t believe this is finally happening. That this gorgeous woman is offering herself to him, allowing him to do such things to her, to claim her as his own.

He presses his nose against her white cotton panties and inhales deeply, feeling intoxicated at her sweet scent and excited to taste the nectar hidden within. Giving her legs a soft squeeze, he pulls her panties to the side and sighs in want when he sees her perfectly pink cunt, soaking and swollen all for him. Wasting no more time, he leans forward and runs his tongue flat against her lips, tasting her arousal.

Jorah closes his eyes and rests a palm against her abdomen to hold her down, his lips circling around her swollen bud and begins sucking on it. Reaching over with his hand to slowly push the tip of his finger past her pussy, the wet noises and Daenerys’ moans filling his ears, only urging him to push his digit in further.

“Please,” She begs once more and Jorah reaches up to fondle her tit with his freehand, pinching her nipple through the fabric of her dress to further stimulate her as his other hand begins thrusting in and out of her pussy, her walls sucking and squeezing his finger as he begins to fuck her, his lips releasing her clit and allowing his tongue to flick against it.

He speeds up his motions when he feels Daenerys’ heels dig into his back, adding a second finger inside her and moving his hand faster. The squelching of her pussy drives him even further as her heavy breathing invades his ears.

“Jorah!” Daenerys shouts and he feels her body spasm beneath him, drinking up all the nectar she offers as he continues thrusting his fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm.

“You taste heavenly, Baby,” Jorah whispers against her cunt, giving it a final lick before he pulls his digits out and watches them glisten from her release. He then stands from the ground and looks down at the beautiful mess he’s turned her into. “Just as I imagined.”

“You imagined this would happen?” Daenerys asks in between pants, her hair splayed beautifully on the arms of the couch.

“More times than you can imagine,” Jorah smirks and proceeds to undo his belt, pulling down his pants and boxer shorts altogether and groaning once his erection springs free.

Taking a seat beside her, Jorah reaches over to slip her panties from her legs, pressing the soiled underwear to his nose to take a deep inhale then slowly lifting her from her back to guide her onto his lap. Moans escaping her lips and groans leaving his as he rubs his cock against her cunt, coating himself with her sweet juices.

He reaches up and takes hold of the straps of her dress, slowly pulling them down to her waist, as if unwrapping a present and biting his lips when he bares witness to her perky breasts while continuously rocks her against him, his cock rubbing on her throbbing clit as he leans forward to catch a nipple between his lips, sucking on it gently then swirling his tongue around it.

“P-please..” Daenerys whispers as she pushes her chest more into Jorah’s face, her hands grasping the back of his head. “I need you, Jorah. Please..”

“As my Khaleesi wishes.” He says after releasing her nipple with a resounding pop and leans himself back onto the couch, holding Daenerys against him as he reaches for his cock and angles it against her waiting cunt. A strangled groan then forms at the base of his throat as he slowly pushes himself in, Daenerys’ grip on his neck and shoulders tightening while her back arches from the intrusion.

“Relax, Baby.” He coaxes as he slides in inch by inch, her pussy walls clenching around him tightly. “Take all of me, Baby. You can do it.” Jorah encourages, watching Daenerys push herself down onto his cock and gasping when he bottoms out.

Jorah tries to settle his breathing to help calm his nerve, not wanting to combust there and then from such a surreal experience, from how Daenerys feels around him. He then places his hands on her hips and slowly moves her up and down his cock, a mixture of groans and grunts escaping his lips at how good she feels and how well she’s taking him, making Daenerys reach up to bite on her hand in an attempt to suppress her moans.

“I want to hear you,” Jorah growls and takes both of her hands to pin them behind her as he slides lower on the couch, thrusting in her at a fast pace.

His heart beat quickens and his breath turns erratic as he fucks her, the sounds of their skins slapping against each other and her high-pitched moans mingling in the air and filling his ears, echoing from every corner of his living room.

He slaps her ass when he feels the ecstasy consume him, Daenerys yelping loudly from the contact only pushing him further, his pelvis rocking eagerly as he fucks her harder and faster, her walls clenching tightly around him once more, letting him know that she’s reaching her limit once more.

“Jorah..!” Hearing her moan his name out loud only makes him even more insatiable, moving to turn their bodies and press her back on the seat of the couch, one of his legs bent at her side as he rams himself deeper causing her to release another garbled moan, his hand moving down to her pelvis to rub his thumb against her clit, stimulating her and helping her reach her high before she screams his name and he feels her juices coat his cock, allowing him to slide in with ease.

He grabs both her thighs and presses them against her chest, the blues of his eyes almost disappearing as his pupils dilate from such arousal when he sees the woman beneath him writhe in pleasure.

His eyes then shut tight when he feels the familiar pull at the pit of his stomach, thrusting his hips faster against her and leaning down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He stills all of a sudden and growls her name when he cums deep inside of her, feeling their warmth mix with each other as he slowly rides out his high.

Jorah then feels Daenerys wrap her arms around him as he presses soft kisses against her collar while his pelvis continuously moves to pour out every last bit of his desire in her.

Lifting his head, he grins as he’s filled with satisfaction when he sees Daenerys’ eyes twinkle against the lights that cascade from the city below and into his flat, looking sated and content from their heated passion.

He presses a gentle kiss on her lips and laughs when she yawns, tutting and earning a light yelp from her when he gives her side a light pinch.

“Stay awake, Love.” He says with a smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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