Daemon Targaryen

Kinktober — Day 18

Breast Worship + Titty Fucking

The chamber glows with candlelight, shadows stretching long across the stone. Daemon lounges in a high-backed chair, silver hair spilling over dark armor loosened at his throat. You move quietly, as his servant, tending the fire and gathering cups, but his gaze finds you all the same — slow, deliberate — pausing at your chest before lifting again with quiet command.

"Stay," he murmurs, lips curving faintly. "Indulge me a while — your company stirs me more than silence."