[ tim is seated on the bed, looking up at aemond, and there is—— a desire to press fingers to his mouth, to push the fingertips against the sharp of the teeth and see if he might bleed. morbid is the thought; aemond's blood sticking to the gums, coating the tongue, staining the white for as long as tim could stand it.
desire has never been a soft and gentle thing, for aemond. it has always burned, it has always scorched the earth, it has always been painful and unwieldy and hideous. it is the way of the dragon to never sooth, to never ease; it takes and it devours and it conquers until there is nothing else left but the earth and whatever remains surviving.
but tim isn't a kingdom. tim isn't gold, isn't sea and salt, isn't a lord's daughter laid naked at the feet of a conquest. tim is a friend. his friend own, and one dear to aemond more than he thinks he can admit in the light of day.
rather than sit next to tim, aemond chooses to sit at his feet, so that he might rest his head on tim's lap instead. not yet, but soon - for now he folds on the carpeted floor and continues to hold tim's hand, pressing the knuckles to his mouth before he speaks again. ]
I've told you before, haven't I? That Aegon took me to a whorehouse when I was three and ten. He meant it as a gift to me. To teach me of the things men do, and should do.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-11-24 02:50 am (UTC)desire has never been a soft and gentle thing, for aemond. it has always burned, it has always scorched the earth, it has always been painful and unwieldy and hideous. it is the way of the dragon to never sooth, to never ease; it takes and it devours and it conquers until there is nothing else left but the earth and whatever remains surviving.
but tim isn't a kingdom. tim isn't gold, isn't sea and salt, isn't a lord's daughter laid naked at the feet of a conquest. tim is a friend. his friend own, and one dear to aemond more than he thinks he can admit in the light of day.
rather than sit next to tim, aemond chooses to sit at his feet, so that he might rest his head on tim's lap instead. not yet, but soon - for now he folds on the carpeted floor and continues to hold tim's hand, pressing the knuckles to his mouth before he speaks again. ]
I've told you before, haven't I? That Aegon took me to a whorehouse when I was three and ten. He meant it as a gift to me. To teach me of the things men do, and should do.
I did not like it.