holyposition | IC Inbox

It's still you, brother mine, though I have an appreciation for it now.

If you feel it required, you should tell her. You do not need my permission for it, when you are as involved as I. We don't do very well with secrets, either, my family and I. We tend to take them very personally.

I could get you to appreciate a lot of things if you don't rip any chunks out of me.

And Aegon? You made it seem he gets his kicks from humiliating you.

He does, he's my brother and my king. He takes liberties I would not otherwise allow.

It will be fine. I would rather you didn't tell him directly, but if he learns of it, then he learns of it. He's like to have done worse than I have, regarding the matters of carnal desire.

He's the father between the two of us, after all.

[ as for the biting — ]

I don't get even a little allowance?

What you described sounded like more than brotherly teasing.

But that's fine. I barely know him, I don't feel obligated.

You can have a little. No blood. And nowhere that'll make my training any harder if it's sore.

Where are you now?

Remember that you saw me being involved with mine own uncle in ways most uncles do not engage with their nephews. Or that my sister is also my goodsister, and shares children with my brother own.

[ is the incest getting diluted? should he play for baela's attentions now, too? ]

I'm in my room. I've put up some of the gifts I have received of late. You might like one of them, come to think of it. Put names to faces.

I'm very aware of your family's royal traditions. It's got nothing to do with him being demeaning.

Give me 15. Where I'm from, we seal these things with a kiss. And then I'd be happy to see it.

[ how tim thinks he won't see the gigantic cieling-to-wall family curtain is beyond aemond, but he'll humor it. why not? ]

A kiss for me. Am I being threatened with affections now?

The door is open for you always.

No lover of mine goes without affection for very long. You'll get used to it. See you soon.

[ He said fifteen, but he's there in ten, letting himself in with a curious grin, as if somehow he's sneaking in, despite being explicitly invited. ]

[ soon is sooner than aemond was thinking, and when he turns to meet tim, there is a slow warmth that rises from him. he catches tim on the approach, a hand coming up to cradle tim's cheek. ]

Easy now, easy. There you are.

Hello, Tim.

Hi.

[ Tim leans the whole of his head into Aemond's hand, a soft, cat-like nuzzle before he turns and presses a kiss to his palm. This gentleness suits him, Tim thinks, even if he thinks to settle him the same way he might a horse, or rather a dragon. Is that not, at least subconsciously, the highest mark of fondness that Aemond could give?

He puts his hand over the one on his cheek and shuffles forward, uses his other to tuck a stray bit of silver hair behind Aemond's ear, stroking the shell with his thumb. Before he's asked, but he assumes permission now, to lean in and kiss him. This too is soft and sweet, warm without the urgency of pushing it any further than a kiss. Warmth doesn't so much rise within Tim as it is his natural state, spilling outwards in search of someone to share it with and drawn especially to Aemond, who knows it only in the extreme of blazing fires. ]

This is what you want?

[ Stubborn devotion, needy affection, a nagging angel on his shoulder. ]

I want to hear it from your lips, valonqar.

[ it's almost tender, the way tim leans into him and presses their mouths together. tender in a way that aemond knows he would run from, but he doesn't run now — why? why doesn't the panic rise in him this time? why does he find himself rooted in place, welcoming the softness, welcoming the warmth of tim's mouth on his, the touch of their tongues against the other's own?

tim tastes like mint leaves and coffee and sweat; he tastes like himself, and his skin is warm against aemond's fingertips, and he is here.

he chose to be here, tim of the lakes. ]

I want this from you. Kesīros ao jaelan, ñuha valonqar.

You understand what this will mean, don't you? You are choosing me, too.

It's yours then.

[ His kisses are slow, between words and smiles, some of them open, seeking Aemond's tongue with his own, all in the service of knowing him better, claiming a part of him as his, and giving that up in turn. Tim hums softly into it, his hand running through his hair and brushing against the eyepatch - not purposely, but simply because it's there, all around his head. ]

I know.

[ Alicent will be furious, he knows. Koby will think he's lost his mind. Hawk might actually be the least of his problems, here. ]

I could have brushed it off as a one-time thing, or a mistake. I'm choosing not to. And I'm not taking that lightly.

Good. A dragon protects it hoard. You shouldn't take that lightly if you mean to live in its fire.

[ he lingers — or perhaps the better word is nuzzles, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of tim's own. lean, callused fingers trace over the rising slope of tim's cheeks, slipping light over the bone, along the brow, mapping out the shapes that make up his face.

touch is a luxury, back home, and tim has given him freedom to drown. ]

Will you tell Mother this, too?

Oh yeah? Am I your hoard now? Some kind of treasure?

[ Tim laughs softly, grinning as if to tease, but it feels good to be thought of that way, to be protected without being treated like he’s fragile, to know that he won’t hesitate to bite on his behalf but also that he’s eager to arm him with the ability to protect himself. It’s a different beast, something practical rather than sentimental, but he’s come to learn that it’s how Aemond shows his care, by finding solutions and taking action. The frightening chaos of the last couple months has needed more than gentle words and warm hugs to overcome – had he felt better the entire time than when they burned down his old room together? Not until Hawk’s return from the dead, and again now, as Tim gives him the gift of languid indulgence. ]

No. [ Shaking his head, slowly as to not brush off Aemond’s hands. ] The intimate details belong to us.

Mm.

[ this is easy — nearly too easy, and aemond is not trying to destroy the moment, he truly isn't, but.

there's a word to despise. but. there are matters that cannot be ignored. matters that aemond himself knows he cannot set aside, not if he means to promise trust and not be a liar about it. tim gives himself and often; he does not mean it as an insult. touch is easy with him. aemond would envy it if he didn't think it dangerous for them both, dangerous for tim and the men he entertains in his bed — that vulnerability, that intimacy, that exposure.

he could be hurt with a simple touch, and he would have welcomed it.

aemond kisses the corner of tim's mouth, and it tastes like a warning. ]

There are parts of me that I cannot give you. Acts I cannot share with you. Will you hear me?

I will.

[ Tim pulls back, only a little, enough to look him in the eye, searching, without a clue what this might be about. They’ve participated already in the most intimate and sacred of acts. His coming here, and Aemond inviting him to, is a promise of more to come, a declaration of mutual desire. So, what then, besides his duty to his family, which has been made clear and accepted a dozen times over?

He shifts slowly, to move towards the bed and have a seat, taking Aemond’s hand so that he might urge him to join. ]

Tell me.

[ He wants to know everything, and share everything in return. It’s gotten him in trouble before, leaving himself too open, allowing himself to be known and vulnerable by those who would rather remain a mystery. Whether Aemond realizes it or not, he’s shared plenty for the brief months they’ve known each other. He is no mystery to Tim, the shape of the puzzle pieces are known, if not their precise colors. ]

[ 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.

I did not like it.

[ Aemond, kneeling, for anyone but a king. He never thought he'd see the day, and certainly would never have thought to ask him to. That it happens at all is...scary, almost, a curtain pulled back so quickly that it almost startles. It's different, from when the prince kisses the maiden's hand in the fairy tales. Vulnerable, fraught, and miles away from happily ever after for anyone. Tim swallows, unsure still of where this is going, but looks down at him as warmly as he has this entire time. ]

I remember.

[ Vividly. Early on, during the first round of the werewolf game when Tim was still getting the measure of him, before he became a regular and necessary presence and a friend, rather than just Alicent's son. The way he'd told it, as if these kinds of things just happen - family is grief and offense and torment - had stuck with him, burrowed into his brain and poisoned him against Aegon before he ever arrived. ]

It was wrong, what happened. You deserved to have your own choice. Especially that young. But I'm not sure I-- did I do something to upset you yesterday, when we...?

Edited 2024-11-24 04:41 (UTC)

You didn't. Far from it, truthfully. I quite liked what we did.

[ liked it is being humble about it. aemond has marks on his back to remind himself of it, and he knows he's left his own mark on tim, high on his arm, perfect crescents of teeth near-breaking the skin.

it is not what troubles him, the intimacy of their joining. ]

There are acts that lovers perform on one another that... This is indelicate in the highest order, isn't it? I cannot kiss your soft parts. I cannot——venture where my hands might go, where my fingers might touch. It is not something I can give you. To kiss you on the mouth takes a great effort from me as it is. It should terrify you how much of it I have given you, because it comes from a place of——burning, Tim, I must first burn before I could ever dare it.

[ he bites at tim's fingers, now - lightly, as a dog might graze at the hand that feeds it, not knowing any other way to say thank you. ]

The whore. Sylvi. She was as old as my mother when Aegon took me to her the first time. And I could not perform, not at first, not until after she's applied her mouth upon me, and even that had taken time. It was——

I was terrified. I did not want to be in my body in that moment, but I succeeded in the end, and I finished as I should. Aegon was happy for me. I was made a man then.

It is not his fault, my weakness. Every time I feel someone's mouth on me I feel that same childish fear rise in my belly. It sours me throughout. I don't want that for you. From you. You don't have to soil your mouth with my leave, and I won't ask you to.

Edited (words missing) 2024-11-24 05:22 (UTC)

[ Tim had known the outline of this story, but not the details. There's so many wrong conclusions in it, so much misplaced blame and internalized - what, shame? Some of it sounds disturbingly close to his own sense of dirtiness and guilt, things he's working past but that never truly go away. The rest...the excuses for Aegon, the idea that it's sex that makes a man and not his character, the presumption that he should be afraid when Aemond more than anyone has aided him to combat his fears, the fact that it sounds like an apology - they make his heart feel sick and heavy, force him to bite his tongue and let Aemond finish, rather than push back with an interruption for each objectionable thing on the list.

What's worst is that he kneels as if he's confessing a sin, when it's he who has been sinned against. Slowly, Tim pulls his fingers from Aemond's mouth, tucks them underneath his chin, to tilt it up towards him. There's sorrow in his eyes amidst the tenderness, his features creasing into seriousness. ]

Listen to me. It is not a weakness for you to not want something you'd been forced into, when you were young and scared. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.

[ Words mimicked from Hawk, years ago, still repeated when he needs it. Paid forward now. ]

I want you to feel safe with me. That's far, far more important to me than any sex act. You understand that?

Edited (slightly adjusting wording multiple times you how it goes) 2024-11-24 07:38 (UTC)

[ i want you to feel safe with me.

when was the last time he'd ever felt safe? he can't remember. he can't recall a moment when he wasn't thinking about the iron throne, what it meant to himself and his brothers, what it would mean when his father finally died and his sister called upon the oaths of the great houses to honour her as their father's heir. every day is a march towards — what? the crown? the promise of survival, if they prevail in sending rhaenyra to either death or exile?

he's never felt safe without vhagar. and vhagar has not been close to him in many a fortnight now. he doesn't understand what tim is trying to offer him. ]

You could never harm me. You do not have the stomach for that sort of violence.

[ is it confusion, then? does he misunderstand what tim means? there are ways to hurt a person that goes beyond torture or disfigurement. mind games, like his uncle daemon likes to use on his enemies, like larys strong employs in the service of the crown. violations and brutality, the kind that burrows under the fingernails and sticks to the mind's eye.

but even with that knowledge at the forefront, aemond cannot imagine it of tim. he cannot see tim hurting him; there is no desire in him to overpower another, to violate another person's trust. ]

It was a stupid fear. Aegon did not force me. I went with him willingly, he was thinking of me. I wanted to go with him, he rarely asks me to be involved, it was to teach me as an older brother should. He couldn't have known I wouldn't like it. It is my weakness to deal with, that I cannot overcome something so simple as the touch of a whore's mouth.

If you would be patient with me, I could learn. I've never had pressing reason to learn before.

[ do not see me as weak for this. do not make him beg. ]

That's not what I mean.

[ And he thinks Aemond knows that, but this situation is fraught enough without pointing it out. He doesn't trust so easily, Tim knows, or admit to pain or fear or needing comfort. He could harm him right now, if he had a mind to, by simply getting up and leaving, proving all his walls necessary and all this unprocessed trauma a deal-breaker. Aemond could hurt him too, by deciding his softness isn't worth being vulnerable for, that he doesn't want it or respect it after all.

Tim's not doing any of that, just...holding his hand on the top of Aemond's head, scratching affectionately at his scalp. His voice is low and gentle, not wanting an argument, but firm, assured of the truth of what he's saying. Some points have to be made for his own good, if he'll listen. ]

You didn't do it because you wanted it, you did it to please him. That's not how sex should be, ever. It doesn't make you weak, that you didn't like it.

[ If anything, he's the one begging, for Aemond to take his words to heart, to separate this from all the other things he does for his brother out of loyalty and duty. He has to take a breath and close his eyes, to keep the emotion back, so that he doesn't cry for him.

...but maybe he should. Has anyone, ever? ]

If you want to ease into it, we can. If you don't, that's alright too. Like I said, nothing that you don't want.

You cannot promise me that. You—— What if I refuse you something you truly wanted? Something you deserve to have? Would you think it fair? Is my comfort truly worth depriving yourself so?

[ he doesn't understand it. to him, it's the height of selfishness; to be generous with the self in the face of discomfort is the standard for duty. it demands, and it takes, and one suffers through it if one cannot find it in themselves to love what they are given. his mother had done it for decades, as had his father, as had every single dragon in his family. they have privilege, he knows this, they have more of it than anyone else in the seven kingdoms — but it is power that requires sacrifice.

some discomfort in the marriage bed is a small price to pay for a greater strength, a greater alliance. while tim is no lord or lady of the realm, he has given aemond an unconditional trust. it is a greater gift than many have offered aemond in all his years. why should that not demand sacrifice? he is willing to give it. ]

Should I not want to please, and be raised up for it?

Hey, come on up here.

[ Patting the bed beside him. He doesn't need to kneel, as if in prayer or reverence. Tim hasn't done anything extraordinary by suggesting that whatever intimacies they partake in should be enjoyable and comfortable for them both. That it puzzles him is a tragedy, one that Tim will work as hard as he can to correct. ]

I don't see it as deprivation. [ Kissing him on his brow, where his scar is, and again on the bottom, at the peak of his cheekbone. ] I need to know my lover is engaged and enjoying himself, or I won't be having fun either. It's important to me, and makes everything feel better, too. So if you don't like it, I won't like doing it with you.

[ It would be selfish of him to ask, especially here, where he has other lovers who would be more than happy to let him suck them off if he were really in the mood for it that badly. Tim likes doing it. He loves doing it, but he meant what he said before. Aemond's comfort, his feelings, and his pleasure are all more important than this one thing. ]

There's lots of ways to make me feel good. You managed just fine yesterday.

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cw: mentions of csa, prostitution, downplaying trauma

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cw: mentions of csa, derogatory language to sex workers, downplaying trauma

cws continued let's just assume so all the way down

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