Himmler's Journal News: In this chapter of his life, Auzdein von Himmler beds down the Mother of Dragons.
This journal entry touches upon one of the later days of Auzdein's interaction with Daenerys Targaryen.
While traveling on one of my now innumerable expeditions to the massive realm we Inisfreeans call ‘the Outlands’, I come across the Age and locale of the one they call ‘the Mother of Dragons’. Naturally, I request an audience with her; we Marines always cut right to the chase, disregarding and overcoming all else in stride and with uncanny ease. My long-crystallized Inisfreean aura takes care of the rest, calming those many servants and warriors of hers who have grown justifiably wary of such approaches over the years, for many have attempted to imprison and end her for various unsavory reasons. Introducing myself as an emissary of the kingdom to the farthest south, known as Antarktis, I am finally granted proximity enough to address her in person. (Antarktis is literally a kingdom now, as it is a king’s domain.)
I approach Daenerys who is sitting properly upon her throne, the warm wind occasionally picking up and rolling the leather cloths draped above and around it and her. I make a point to not look into her eyes very often, or for very long when I do.
“I see greatness in your eyes,” I finally tell her, both of us slowly warming up to the other, sensing greatness alike –and, naturally, being drawn to it.
“My people are at your ser-vice,” she regally yet femininely reciprocates our form of initial pleasantries.
“I have not done well to share my feelings with people out here…”I then say, easing her into the usual hints and screenings of Inisfree.
Daenerys gets irritated/impatient for a moment; snaps at me –sort of. “What is the meaning of this meeting you have requested?”
In response to seeing and feeling this, my eyes flash with energy as I look to her, locking on with dark irises and pupils, but a soft voice to balance them and capture her attention gently and surprisingly: “I am not one of your people or subordinates. Please do not speak to me as such.”
She urges me to tell her what I mean by my ‘feelings’ remark; her very toned-down way of rephrasing her disgust at someone gauging her and taking up her valuable and ever-occupied royal time –something I completely understand, having lived it so many years already.
“…I love you, …Daenerys,” I say very smoothly, every letter and their timing well made.
I see her eyes widen in shock that she was right about her suspicions, and in wondering how to proceed, having never been spoken to like this (the Inisfreean way has always been an alien one to her Outlands).
“I shall go,” I cut myself –us both- off, albeit in a smooth, rehearsed, nonchalant tone; starting to pivot/turn to leave her presence and her kingdom, my body matches my mentality –and lovingly ensnaring technique.
“Wait,” she abruptly pleads in her tone, “…wait,” she repeats herself after a breath-hitching pause, now speaking much, much more softly. Her hand wants to rise up from its resting place upon the armrest of her makeshift throne there, but she fights it with all her heart, struggling to maintain her command presence in spite of my aura’s own. Her posture holds, her chin still up a bit, and she is the very picture befitting the queen she was always destined to become.
I know she can sense my extreme power, wisdom, and loving experience, but does not know exactly from which things it stems. My aura is always overpowering to those of the Outlands –even to royalty there. She wants more of it –and more now. Who wouldn’t? I surely would.
I stop, turning back to face her, and offer her my serene expression and patience.
“I can’t help but wonder at what you are; I sense there is so much different about you… yet so much that we share.” She looks me down and back up, arranging her next words. “I have never heard of this kingdom Antarktis. Are you a magician there?” She clearly asks, I can tell, because of my presence; the life-force (a.k.a. ‘aura’) she is sensing. Her kind have little knowledge of such things, so it always puzzles and intrigues them.
“Few have” (heard of that kingdom) “, your Grace.” I dip my head in a slight bow to her. “It is as far south as one can travel in this world. –And nay, I am not a magician. My people believe that all things can be explained, taught, and improved by the sciences. Thus, we see even magic as merely a high level of scientific understanding. Still, though, I do not believe one might accurately describe me as a magician. I am well educated, yes, and a traveler, but certainly no wizard or warlock. I focus much more on offering healing to those who seek it –via the medical practice of acu-pressure, sometimes called ‘touch therapy’.”
Flashes of her late whore friend from the distant tribe enter the forefront of her mind; her mind’s eye. She remembers how that girl straddled her in her royal tent in those distant lands, began to grind atop her, and schooled her in the wise ways of womanly wiles. It was precisely as I’d just put it, Daenerys in that moment realized; she had been discovering some of the intricacies of touch-therapy. Did I mean this same form of intimate touch, she then wondered. Her appetite was whetted. Her mouth, she could feel, was beginning to salivate enough to drool if she wasn’t careful. The slit of her sex was now definitely doing the same.
“Go on,” she softly guides our conversation, making a vain attempt at recomposing herself in front of a man who mastered body language so completely that he even wrote new languages based entirely upon just that.
“Our first test of a potentially ready person out here is to speak of love. The second test is to politely offer to withdraw. The third is experiencing how they respond to our forms of touch, and how they touch in return. There are no correct or incorrect responses; only indicators as to whether or not they would benefit from further interaction of our Inisfreean kind.”
She sat there, perfectly upright, listening and still eyeing and sizing me up in her cute yet proper, curious yet cautious way.
“If we find people out here who enjoy our ways; people who naturally pass those three tests, we offer them a voyage to our homeland –where they might discover and enjoy more of those things.” Still standing before the foot of her throne, I smirked internally to myself, happy that I had spent so many of my formative years in elite military training programs which had gotten me completely used to standing for extended and indefinite periods of time; Daenerys was customary royalty, I had found, and that meant her subjects and guests would end up standing before her for however long she needed to feel best acquainted with them. Tender heart and soul though she was, she was still a queen, and one who had endured nightmarish bullshit in her time. Not waiting on any hope of an invitation to sit, I spoke on.
As I am my people’s leader in the science of touch-therapy, I have been chosen to represent them in this realm of yours, as I amongst them can best determine who is ready –physically and mentally-“ (‘mentally’ includes spiritually and emotionally) “to learn and share our languages within this field. Sharing loving touch with you is the way our people confirm that the heart of one from this realm of yours is ‘as light a feather’, as it is said, and, from that… is granted admittance to the kingdom. The more one is able to share loving interaction with our kind, the more we reveal and offer to them –up to, and including… allegiance.”
Her expression becomes a contemplative frown, weighing my words and imagining at where they are leading; guarded optimism shows all over her countenance, as well, based on her past in the Outlands, it should.
“Our kind do not wed, nor do we breed. We do not seek to keep all the touch and love of another for ourselves. Rather, we uplift and encourage those like us to share their love with all whom they feel drawn to. All we look for in our friends and allies is a compatibility of loving interaction. We have no contracts, expect nothing, giving love always as a gift, and… at this moment… have our eyes set upon and star-struck by You.”
I can feel some of her thoughts; that she knows she can never fully let go with her top knight, that her first husband is long gone, and that it is almost certain no one will understand or embrace that special form of humanoid which she is and will always be. Several have tried to rape her, and, though exciting, that was the closest she ever came to being told she was loved. What I have just done is completely new and wholly unexpected to her, and it is in her very cells and fibers to beg for more. The conflict (there within her) is supreme and perfect, and I let it take its wonderful toll.
“There is a statue in your likeness within the walls of my own kingdom, fair Majesty Targaryen. We Inisfreeans look up to you, for our Founding Father suffered and endured many of the same things You have, as per the legends circulating which complement you.”
She faintly and involuntarily quirks the outer half of her left eyebrow in question for elaboration. Her mind is now drawn to this new topic, pulled back like a yoyo; just enough to keep her off kilter for a moment more.
I speak the next series of remarks very gently, knowing how delicate their matters are. “Just as in the life of our Founding Father, your great inheritance was denied to you, you were traded as property, you were kept in the dark about a great many things, you were emotionally abused, you were naturally brilliant; a genius, you learned some of the more advanced and refined ways of holistic (sexual) love from practiced teachers who became your advisers for a time, you endured the politicking pressures of relationships amidst outsiders, your own blood betrayed you and were summarily ended for that gravest of offenses, you endured the circumstances of miscarriage, you had to eat alarming things to prove yourself to some of those outsiders, you raised unexpected and unlikely children –and you did so very well; with grace and true love, you discovered you were far more than just human, and you ended up inheriting through your cunning far more than you had ever had stolen from you. Our Founding Father experienced his own versions of each of those things, and he is amazed by you, your Majesty. He loves what he has heard about you, as well as what he has borne witness to.”
Her thighs are starting to tremble, as is the entire depth of her sex, and I can smell and feel these things in the air. The sexual tension is primed, just as it was destined to be; just as it should be.
“I am that Founding Father, your Beauty.” I make sure to call her this instead of just ‘your Grace’, as that has already been spoken twice already, and as I cannot recount having ever heard a lovely queen addressed in acknowledgement of her looks instead of her gracefulness.
The revelation hits her and she fights grinning dimples and a flexing scalp amidst those narrowing, heavenly eyes of hers. Having made it known I am royalty much like her, suddenly the shift in her thoughts and body’s responses is easily felt within me; it is now so much easier and more politically acceptable for her to engage in courting and lovemaking with me. A huge burden is lifted from her spirit-shoulders.
“My lord,” she dares try the title my direction, slowly adjusting to the fact that she has been speaking to a king who presented himself before her as if he was a peasant, “come.” Her little, soft hand moves to rest over the cushion on the same level beside her throne. “Please,” she reinforces her request, clarifying its meaning although we both know the other is well aware of what she wants, “join me here-“ ‘-closer’, her mind says, finishing the sentence.
I dip my eyelids in their own bow, acknowledgement, and agreement, and politely walk up toward her throne, easing down into a comfortable seated position where her hand had indicated; at her right side, my left angled to face her. It was perfect, I felt, and I almost imperceptibly smiled at this thought.
“I have heard how Inisfreeans love…” she cants her head, regarding me, and waiting to weigh my response to this obvious conversational bait, “though I did not think them anything more than mythical nymphs; no one has ever seen one, you see.” Her voice was nearly hypnotizing to me, it was so perfectly met by my desire for it. I wondered if she was conscious of its effect on me, her being so completely enamored and spellbound by me and mine, as well.
I don’t need to assure her we are real, for I am standing before her and, like the legend of the angels, she can easily sense what I am; that I am one of those Inisfreeans. “It is a different love,” I acknowledge in our eloquent and courtly way, looking at her, wondering if she will pass typical Outlander judgment upon my kind, “but still love; deep as the sea… and true as the Sun.” This is a usual, subtle, sly, yet powerful and rapidly thought altering Inisfreean pun and double entendre; in this case, ‘Sun’ being used to stimulate thoughts of ‘having a son’ –namely, with me.
“Leave us,” she sternly yet half-musically commands her guard element posting security at the corners of the room.
Half a dozen armed and armored men dip their heads for a second as they turn and stride out through curtains and flaps, making themselves scarce but still close enough to respond within two seconds to any sound of trouble.
She rests her silky soft, smooth, tiny palm and the undersides of its aligned fingers atop the back of my hand nearest her, pairing it with a half-pleading, half-warning look in her blue, saucery eyes, telling me as obviously as she can that what she is about to do and say must never leave this meeting room of ours. The warmth of her hand is half what I expect it to be, and speaks volumes on its own; that her life-force around it is lessened due to her fear regarding this issue, and the pressures heaped upon her because of her restored role. She is ready like a cat on hot bricks to withdraw in an instant and never address me again -just as I was, moments prior, ready to withdraw as easily and permanently from her presence and realm. Ironically, though, all those things only lead to much greater and more rewarding and unlocking sex.
Her next words come to me in the quietest of whispers; a volume and manner of speaking which her guards will never be able to overhear. “Making love casually yet meaningfully, and for pleasure instead of premeditated purpose, is something I have long dreamed of, yet almost given up on entirely and forgotten. I was always quite jealous of the whores and concubines, as well as the promiscuous of the lower castes, for they could love and make love so easily and often, never thinking anything of it; never having the watchful eyes of the kingdom upon them. I was always bound to fight through my trembling desires.” Her eyes moved back from the corner of the room where she was envisioning what she was telling me about, settling them to look up into my own eyes now as she finished with her appreciation. “Thank you for freeing me from all that. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me there is hope for such things; that people like you are out there… and do eventually come.”
I wondered if she was as aware as I was at the irony and innuendo of that final word.
Both of us are sharp as a tack, and skipping over many redundancies that would be expected and even critical for clear communication in the speech of the rest of the Outlanders. “Shall I accompany you to your bedchambers this eve? It would be the most calming, soothing, and comfortable of places for us both. Perhaps inform your aid that I am a doctor tending to a spot of trouble you’ve been having. It isn’t a lie, after all. And they would, of course, politely assume it is an ailment you have wisely sought external counsel for.”
She purses her lips to one side, smirking with the other, her eyes widening a bit with a twinkle. My graceful utilization of eloquence and harmless deception is keeping her wet, her belly ready for me.
“You will join me in its antechamber this very night,” she whispers further, almost surprised at how hungry it sounded. It was blatant, but mutually well met.
“I will,” I whisper in turn, slightly nodding as I say it, and looking at her lips with that signature Inara expression of mine.
Her smile cracks and she quickly represses it, giving the top of my hand a brief, warm squeeze to let me know I’d better straighten up and return to my place at the foot of her throne.
I slightly dip again in a bow whose slowness says to her exactly what I want it to; (that) I am ready for her, too, that I want and crave her as she does (want and crave) me, that I will behave accordingly, and that my heart is racing to rejoin her very, very soon –and hard.
That night, we slowly strip and bathe one another, and I show her a sampling of what my knowledge of acu-pressure and the erogenous zones can do to calm the nerves, clear the mind, and rapidly increase all types of healing and stabilizing.
“What do you want from me and my people –from my kingdom?” she finally blurts out.
I smile kindly over to her, lying nude as she is, us both facing each other at a hair’s breadth distance. “I want only You, sweet Daeny. I want only to spend some loving time with you –here like this- whenever you are able. For that alone –that level of love- I offer you my allegiance; the allegiance of the Inisfreean empire.”
“Sex for protection,” she quips, and I crack a smile and blink, softly laughing back; through my nostrils as she is. “You want me to be prostitute myself for enhanced protection.”
“Please use gentler words,” I finally corrected, rolling my eyes. “Though what you say is, technically, correct, it isn’t as accurate or reverent as it ought to be. You are speaking of the sacred and supremely healing ways of my people, after all; of our culture, our religion, and what we have found to work best in all the realms. Naturally, if you and I can love one another, that in and of itself is reason enough to protect you.”
Tiny little Daenerys and I fucked very sweetly for hours after that, then very roughly for another half hour more. She was dripping with sweat, cum, drool, and (elated) tears, and was panting, flushed, and smiling like the happiest drunkard. She had spent herself so many times, and gotten me to spend my load so many more, it wasn’t even countable. Our sheets were soaked, just like her pussy and asshole. She had swallowed enough of my cum to fill a champagne glass. All we could do was lie there, her pussy still pulsing around my cock still pulsing all the way up inside it, cling to each other, squeeze one another, tremble, shiver, squirm and re-tighten our snuggling at every faintest motion, and breathe.
Then there was the usual flux in the Force; in the interaction that rises and falls with any Outlander. Before my very eyes, her life-force withdraws again, retracting from when it filled up the entire room when we were embracing in the throws of passionate, needy, love grinding… to barely a paper-thin atmosphere around her. Her fear is back, and I can’t blame her for it. The question she must ask is the culprit, along with how others have treated and forced her in so many chapters past. “You… are aware of my ‘condition’, then, …yes?”
I know immediately what she is referring to, and rest my gentle hands upon her breasts the same way an Outlander would upon an outer upper arm, shoulder, or cheek. “My lovely Daenerys, epic Storm-born, Mother of Dragons, I love you more than I can say, and part of what I am so in love with about you is that gift and blessing and quality and beauty of yours; your ability to grow baby dragons in your womb.” I move one of my hands from her breast to the area of her sternum just over her heart, while my other hand caresses its knuckles down the side of her belly to rest upon its lowest curve. “I love that and you so much. You have no idea what it does for me; how much it makes me smile.”
Her nose began to tingle and streams of tears darted down over her flushed cheeks from her wetted blue eyes looking up all dreamily and bewildered at me. The secret she had thought would ruin her was somehow what had drawn me to her.
“Daenerys, I want to raise a dragon baby with you… I have always wanted to do this with you. With You.”
After she and I finish cumming together, filling her pussy ‘til it overflows with the juices of our blissful, fully sating union, a question forms in her mind and I can feel it. We both become quiet with our breath, pausing in our movements.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” she asks softly, looking up into my eyes with her capturing own.
I let her capture me in that way, making no attempt to hide it; rather, proudly displaying it in honor of her superpower (beauty) over me. Giving into her (in both senses), I smile back down, looking into her lusciously formed and loosely parted lips, and masculinely answer. “With my seed, I have given you some of my essence. You are the lady –my goddess. Thus, it is for You to decide how best to honor me with the formation of our offspring. I want a child of our fused essences growing in your belly. I want you –your body- to select its ideal gender.”
She can’t help but smile, and that smile spreads across her whole face as her body relaxes beneath the weight of my own. Her legs, especially, relax and hang more open around my own. My cock, still dripping, throbs deep within her pussy, its balls resting near her asshole.
“I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” she emphasizes each of those words individually; “…excited… in love… esPecially for having a child…”
As her body accepts my seed, her healthy, full-bodied curiosity and imagination return to her. “Do you Inisfreeans really make love ten times a day??”
“Shewwww,” I smile out that expressive noise, “sometimes more. We’re fuckin’ good at it.“ My face lights up in amusement at the irony and fittingness of that line; “Pun!”
She beams with sealed lips, exhaling her laugh and pleasure out her nose onto my bare chest, and cuddles and caresses with me, both of us loving more and more each moment how honest and open we are being with each other; a fanTastic sign.
“And what if I didn’t want to get pregnant? Would you rape me?” she pushes for more answers, determined to be intimate with my mind, not just my body.
“Though we Inisfreeans see rape in a slightly different light, and though you are remarkably sexy –and enough for nearly any man to justify conquering you to enter and release into you, no; I would not rape you. As for pregnancy, there are many forms of contraception my people have access to. We can even facilitate that with our minds.”
“You can conTrol whether I get pregnant??!” Again thinking me a magician, her curiosity is through the roof –checked only by her natural hint of logical doubt.
“Well… yes and no. Not diRectly; I can choose/will whether or not my sperm will be comPatible with you. Just another of the developments of Inisfreean science.”
(That is/would be considered) “Magic to Me/Us,” she wistfully pictures our laboratories and technicians for a moment.
“Magic is science to someone somewhere,” I restate warmly, happy with my truths and the situations receptive to them; positive vacuums eager to fill themselves with what I want to fill them with –almost as good as pussies receiving my cum.
Daenerys was still as tenderhearted, thoughtful, and observant as ever; as all the legends about her assured me she would be.
“Where are you?”she softly grasps my attention, noticing I am frowning at some memory.
I snap out of my trance, noticing her looking up at me with those capturing saucer-eyes of hers. I was staring out our window at the stars in the clear, somehow warm-feeling night sky. I tell her exactly what it was; that I was seeing a memory… of a time long past –and thankfully so; of a time in another Age when I was hunted for no reason at all.
“I know how that feels,” she offers, slowly sliding her palms out across my pectorals from my sternum.
I feel her silken tits begin to tease my stomach; she stands so short when right up next to me, and I love this. Her body feels so amazing and hypnotizing to me, I quickly lose the painful memory of bullshit and terrorism against my innocent kind, and begin to fondle, grope, and suck upon her flesh like never before.
Giving into me completely, she lets me tip her off balance, trusting me to hold her, and I sweep her off her feet and carry her to her massive bathtub still full of warm water.
She suddenly lights up, glowing with love, lust, and giddiness with her overwhelming realization supercharging her, “Am I your first Love??!” She can sense it, and my melting expression and blooming smile, twinkling eyes, and side-glance cannot deny it.
“I guess sO… ”
I tell her there have been others, and she says it’s okay; “with me, too.”
We have both been married before, had attractions before, felt attached before, but never like this… Not even my first girlfriend or engagement or wife felt anything like this, and certainly weren’t really love.
“…I fear you will leave me,” I state plainly, “as others have… if I am forthright with you. So many assume odd things. So many assume the negative –their idea of what would be negative- by default. If you did, that would hurt… terribly.”
“We Inisfreeans love… deeply… and wholly.”
“Give me a chance,” she pouts.
“I fear you still may…”
She finally goes dry-eyed, stern, and a bit pushy. “Tell me,” she almost cuts me off, still looking up at me with perfectly evolved sadness in her big, bright, doe eyes.
“Inisfreeans can sense memories… esPecially with touch… and even More so when we are so close like this. Being relaxed helps, too,” which she and I definitely are. “We never experience another person’s memories without their permission, but sometimes memories just pop into our heads on their own, and we take this as a sign that we were meant to see them. *see and feel. We just pick up on them. …Let me first say that all of your memories would be beautiful to me.” I look down at her, unable to look away from her upward gaze as she continues to rest naked, draped halfway over my chest, and remark: “I must interject for a moment, and then I will return to answering your question; I LOVE it when you look up at me like that. I love how you look… when you look at me like that… and at all other times…” I shake my head slightly in amazement at her beauty and nature. “Okay… To answer your question, the one which popped into my head… was of your brother…”
Her expression quickly shifts to one of dread, worry, and loss.
“When he slapped you...”
Her expression then faintly shifts to one of steely rage amidst practiced serenity and regality.
“And you said ‘the next time you lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands!’,”
She blushes and closes her eyes amidst a huge grin and full cheeks.
“And I felt such incredible pride for you… and you had turned me on… sooo Much… ”
“Have you thought about what you will name our dragon-baby?” I ask her, and she beams, snuggling her arms up under my own some more, then looks off to the side, her lips together but her face aglow all the same.
“You should name it after your knight,” I tell her, starting to caress the small of her back and then the outsides of her narrow, curving waist. I can’t help but continue; how Iii am wired…
I tell her that I know about her growing love with her knight. “You should be with him. GO to him. Make love to him. It would be so beautiful, so sweet, so special, so meaningful… You know how we Inisfreeans beLieve in all that; in free love, and trusting others… when there is that connection –always when there is that connection… Your dragon-baby together would carry on his great traits. It would be a brilliant, strong, noble dragon… a gem and a justice to your kingdom and our Age…” I can see it in her eyes that she is imagining all this as I speak it, feeling comfortable enough to show me all over her face and body that she is seriously considering it –and that she is loving considering and imagining it, fantasizing about it- which are amazing things, and things we are both fully conscious and deeply appreciative of, our groins both remaining fully stirred due to it.
“How many dragon-babies do you want??” she looks at me, amazed and a bit concerned, though mostly tickled and waiting with baited breath for my response.
“I would enjoy having a few with you, but I am happy with whichever number feels right to you; one… or dozens… I will love raising them all with you, as well as making love to you every time they are off on their own.”
“I miss Khal” (Drogo; her first husband).
Me: “I will go –if this is too soon.”
Her little, soft, perfectly formed fingers slide farther around me, tensing as they apply a bit more pressure to my toned chest and ribs, “No.. Stay… please,” she tears up, lying on my chest, looking up to me and into my dark brown eyes.
“I don’t mean to replace him. I want you to think of all those you love…often…” I caress her arm, “if you can; if it isn’t too emotional for you.”
She looks off out the window to my right side, to the stars iii had just been looking off unto, “He wouldn’t understand, anyway; …me having a dragon as our baby,” she states, half deciding it, though part of her, I can see, already knew that.
“I just wasn’t meant to be with a human woman… That’s all, ” I think and say aloud to myself.
“Daeny is a perfect fit; my Outlander queen, for Inisfree cannot have a queen, yet I still long for queens…somehow… Just how I am wired by God to be.”
“and dragon-birth is beautiful to me… while human birth is absolutely appalling.”
Every now and then I see and make sweet love to/with another girl in Daenerys’s kingdom/area, but she understands, having learned the ways of My people and kingdom, and having seen how in love I am with her, and devoted to only having children with her in this Age, and capable of preventing my sperm from fertilizing/impregnating any of the other girls I bed down.
“Daeny” I call to her, smiling as I behold her.
“You want to make a dragon baby?” she smiles up at me, all starry eyed, still in some disbelief.
“I do.” She looks at me like an angel, and saying that melts me and stirs my member to readiness.
I smile, showing all my teeth, it is so wide and wholehearted.
“You’re the perfect husband,” she squeezes me, resting her head on my chest in love.
“And You are the perfect wife,” I again smile fully, resting my cheek upon the top of her head, taking in the sweet, gentle scent of her hair, as delicate and alluring as she is.
We slip down into bed, moving as one, and she returns to normal position with me; to drape herself over my bare chest. My arms instinctively close warmly and snuggly around her. Very soon, also as always, we are making slow, deep, passionate love again, undulating as one for each other.
“I feel so safe in your arms,” she says, after enjoying a long moment of quiet embrace like this.
“I feel so safe in your pussy,” I beam, loving my half-joke as much I can tell she will.
Sure enough, she squeezes me amidst her belly-flexing in a muffled giggle. I can feel her wide smile upon my chest, and then she kisses me there, still also squeezing my pulsing cock up inside her moist pussy.
“Whoever thought an Inisfreean MAN…” she ponders the unlikelihood of it all; of our union across so much space and time, both of us even enduring multiple assassination, incarceration, and abandonment attempts, “would be the one to come to me.”
“And cum to you,” I again half-joke, and her pussy kegels, squeezing out a few more drops from me as she giggles onto my chest with her breath, her tummy flexing atop my own.
“My kingdom is Yours,” she tells me, amidst more love making, looking up at me with her palms and fingers bracing against my triceps for leverage as I thrust all of my mass and length into her, and she down onto and around me.
I pause, moving to lock eyes with her, “No.” The exclamation mark is implied in my tone and countenance, as well as my pause in the lovemaking motions.
“You earned your kingdom, my love. –and I could never take something from you.”
“It is a gift.”
“It is mine to give,” she tests the waters with a hint of arguing.
I sigh, looking down at her tits, considering her aura, tone, implications… “If you insist…” I look back into her eyes, “but you know how I feel about it.”
“Yes,” she beams, thinking more of how I feel about her.
“I’m going to enJoy watching you grow our dragon-baby in your belly,” I finally smile with my cheeks and eyes again, changing the subject only after we have both felt it is mutually agreeably settled; another Inisfreean custom –and how I am wired.
She cracks a huge smile, almost tearing up, “I’m gonna enjoy watching you watch me grow our dragon-baby.”
“Would you like to come see my kingdom?”
“You’d be the first…”
She looks to the side, playing out a few hypothetical scenarios to prepare herself for it in advance, as well as a round of questions for me to better understand the ways of the people of her soulmate and greatest lover… “With how freely your people love –and make love- won’t they expect me to make love to them, too?”
“They will,” I smile softly to her, looking over all the features of her face for a moment, “but they are a patient people, and one full of many amazing surprises I can tell you will enjoy. They will enjoy you even as they wait to enjoy you.”
Another smile she can’t fight lights up her face, parting her lips and swelling her cheeks. “You have such a way with words, my king –and my husband.”
“Mmm; spellcraft, as it were. I do love to spin happy spells.”
“Well… you’re damn good at it.”
“I’m telling you, my sweet love; you will adore my people, and they, you. You will see –and feel.”
She keeps her wide smile upon my chest, and its feeling there keeps my smile wide.
“Later this night, I will capture you –and make love to you for hours.”
“Will you chase me?” she asks, eyes aglow with mischief and arousal.
“I will chase you –and catch you,” I say as I squeeze her upper arms, then interlace my fingers with her own, one hand at a time, and spread them out far and wide with a sudden, playful movement, pinning her most helplessly; a thrill for us both. “-spin you about,” I continue, “and have my way with you; every which way I want you.”
“Where will you put your cum?”
“First…I want to feel it slide out onto your tongue, and feel your tongue slide against my shaft as you swallow it, accepting me into you. Then..I want to feel it reLease into your heavenly, beautiful ass..as you kegel to insist my cock gives your ass every last droplet of that which it can produce. Then we will bathe..slowly..together..and I will fill up your pussy in our warm tub..and rock you to sleep in my arms so you can feel how full you are in the process, and still how unable –physically or emotionally- to escape me…”
She closes her eyes and legs instinctively, unable to stop smiling, blushing, and fantasizing about it all; loving my spells as much as she loves me.
“Were you gonna read?” she finally asks, looking up at me after I finish unloading all my cum into her pussy again.
I nod, looking to my book where I left it lying, opened, pages bending, near our pillow-side.
“Stay inside me, please –as you read; …so I can sleep,” she bites her lower lip.
I start to shift my weight to retrieve the book without letting my cock slip from its place all the way up inside her, but then look back down at her watching my every move and flexing. “Close your beautiful, bright eyes or I’ll never be able to stop looking at you… *staring at you.”
I ease down to nestle her plump tits between my biceps and against my pectorals, kissing her lightly and ever so erotically upon her full pouting lips, whispering a warm, soft exhale into her still barely opened mouth, “Grow our dragon-baby.”
She shows all her teeth in another huge, unavoidable smile, nodding a lot, trying to remember to keep her eyes closed in the process.
I retrieve my book, and continue to slowly pump in and out of her, rocking her to sleep from the inside and out, as I return to my reading of the Five Rings.
Nine wonderful months blissfully crept by, all the while the two of us staying by each other’s side, and the only times Daenerys ever cried during those 3 seasons were in my arms, trembling and shivering amidst quiet whimpers and streams of wet tears, overwhelmed with positivity as she learned more and more about me and my fellow Inisfreeans.
“I never thought I’d feel this happy,” she cried, letting her tears cover my bare chest as my cum trickled out of her, my cock still deep inside. “I never even knew of this much happiness; that it even eXisted!” She clung to me, as someone out at sea does for moments above the surface, and breath.
“Baby,” I comforted her, “there was I time in my life when I felt the same –perhaps a few, actually. Do not let the pointless worries of the old Age cling to you as you walk with me into this new and everLasting one. I am yours, my perfect little love. I want You.”
“I’m still so aFraid I might lose you, though,” she continued squeezing me tightly, hugging me almost in the onset of a panic attack.
“You cannot lose an Inisfreean, love. That’s just not how it works,” I smile, half to her and half to myself, recounting all the breakthroughs I’d made.