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A Game of Thrones Kink Meme
THE GAME OF THRONES KINK MEME
Round 1!
How It Works -
1) Anonymously request a pairing (or threesome, or group - any and all pairings welcome) along with a kink of your choice - feel free to be as descriptive as you’d like. An example of how this should look: "Cersei/Jaime, bondage." Although this is a kink meme, given the disapproval of fic in ( Read more... )
Round 1!
How It Works -
1) Anonymously request a pairing (or threesome, or group - any and all pairings welcome) along with a kink of your choice - feel free to be as descriptive as you’d like. An example of how this should look: "Cersei/Jaime, bondage." Although this is a kink meme, given the disapproval of fic in ( Read more... )
Daenerys looked up, her brother’s back was to her. Steam rose from the water, the heat scalding to the bath attendants. Viserys was soaking in the bath, preparing him for what was to come in a few short hours.
With them, the water was always scolding hot. Her brother would only say, “Fire cannot burn the dragon.” Fire was in their blood.
“Do you think he’ll take you then?”
“Our blood is noble, son of a king…. one day I’ll be king. He will want me.”
The oils glided over his body the servants bounced skittishly around the room waiting for him to emerge from the waters. Daenerys cocked her head to the side, her brother had never been one to take interest in men, and while it wasn’t entirely unheard of, a marriage between men was quite strange.
She bit her lip with uncertainty, “ Have you ever been with a man before?”
Viserys' back stiffened. He turned in the bath standing fully from the water and slugged out. The servants rushed forward. They draped cloth over him, rubbing the cloth over his body to aid his drying.
“Yes.”
He was talkative today, perhaps in a good mood even. It didn’t take much of anything to anger him, so pressing her luck Daenerys pushed.
“What was it like?”
The servants stopped drying him. Viserys turned to her, his body tense. Her eyes drifted briefly to his flaccid cock. He was the only man she’d ever seen, and after they reclaim the kingdom her brother might be her husband.
“Horrible.”
Daenerys could sense he grew irritated.
“Was this when we wandered after we left-”
Viserys growled, it was an awful thing and she knew then to simple sit quietly.
Moments passed in silence before her brother piped up.
“The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep...” he trailed off. Viserys shooed the servants and dressed in simple light clothes. Daenerys sat like a doll.
“I need to be perfect.” He muttered.
At times like this Viserys simply forgot she was there. He’d get a look on his face tat was hollow and distant. She knew if she interrupted now he’d be his most violent.
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He stared over the balcony, “I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers behind me. The people will be with us. They cry out for their true king.”
Viserys looked over his shoulder to the larger man, “They do, don’t they?” His lips pursed with longing, want, and for a moment he looked like a boy. A desperate boy.
Illyrio only nodded eagerly, “All across the Kingdoms, men lift secret toasts to your health. Their women sew dragon banners in hope of your return from across the water, “ he paused only to shrug, “Or so my agents tell me.”
A dragon.
He smirked, a light coming to his eyes. He would be the dragon for his people. Cruel, fast, sly, majestic.
Viserys would be 'The Beggar King' no longer.
----
They were late.
“Where is he?”
“Dothraki are not known for their punctuality.”
As if summoned by the short exchange, the sound of horses thundered closer and closer. His heart thudded loud in his chest. It wasn’t fear that hastened his blood, it was anxiousness. This was the day his reign would start, he was certain. His legacy, his rise to power, his reclamation of the land that was so rightfully theirs. The humiliation and betrayal his family suffered would finally be avenged. The great descendants of-
His sister reached for his arm.
“Viserys, will-“
“-Silence!” he hissed at her. The last few hours spent around her had slowly been waking the dragon. “I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him status, “ he frowned further his narrow face pinching, “-and he gives me an army.”
Khal Drogo and his men rode up. Three flanked the tallest horse. The Khal’s tall and bulky visage visible before the last rode over the hill, he looked as elegant as a savage could.
“Ah, May I present my honored guest, Viserys of the house Targaryen, the third of his name, rightful prince of-“
Viserys gritted his teeth, he was a king, a god amongst men! Illyrio, however, had convinced him it was best to take the title of prince, he feared the Khal would not marry a king.
“-And his sister Daenerys of the house-“
Unworthy, she couldn’t even entice a horse king. It was a waste for thousands of men riding off nonsensically in the middle of nowhere. A true waste, no matter, he would lead them. Drag these horse savages across the sea and win the war. His house was not to be trifled with.
The Khal’s gaze traveled from the fat bolstering Illyrio to his sister briefly, before settling on him.
“Come now Viserys.” Illyrio called.
Viserys approached, trying keep is chin up as the horseback man inspected him in silence. He looked neither pleased nor dissatisfied, annoyed Viserys scowled when Khal Drogo turned and rode off with his men without even addressing him.
The last man shot him a down nosed look before joining the rest.
He stood in shock for a moment. Was he just rejected? Was his army leaving?
Viserys turned around with an incorrigible look. “Well, do I not please him? Am I not appealing enough? He wanted a boy right?”
Illyrio walked down the cloth-covered steps. He placed a chubby hand on his shoulder.
“Trust me, we’d know if he did not.”
Regardless he narrowed his eyes as the sound of horses faded in the distance.
.
He could barely hold in his disgust as the savages moved wildly to the beating drums. Disgusting. All those uncivilized wretches were beneath him, but they had something he lacked: Numbers. He a king, forced to endure this while his sister stared wide-eyed hiding behind someone else like the useless brat she’d always been. The one thing he was sure she could do for him, the one thing that she could’ve proved herself a true Targaryen responsibility had yet again fallen to him.
He’s been trading something of his for the sake of his kingdom, for the sake of everything he’s ever wanted.
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“Now it’s time for gifts!”
The Dothraki presented skins, vest, belts, everything he figured these people would like. There were few pieces of metal silver work, he raised an eyebrow at that. After that Illyrio approached with a smile.
“My lord, Viserys may I present to you a most delightful gift from your sister, Daenyrs. Servants, for your comfort and pleasure, my lord! Irri will teach you riding, Jaqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah for your personal use…” He trailed off at that,
Viserys inwardly held a smirk; he’d have a woman yet.
“She’s quite attentive…” the fat man cleared his throat.
Jorah presented his old books: Songs and histories from the seven kingdoms, a trinket perhaps.
“And finally, for you, I have dragon’s eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful.”
He could barely contain rolling his eyes. More than likely those gifts were fake, despite that he thanked the Magister.
Khal Drogo walks towards the crowd and they part to make way. The Dothraki turn to stare at him as he was some strange foreigner, which while he was, Viserys would not be over looked. Refusing to look out of place, he tries to retain some dignity by holding his head high. Some whispering goes through the crowd, he sees some of them gesture to his hair as well stare at his sister as well. He supposes among all the dark locks of them him and his sister were strange.
He notices that everyone is staring, but Viserys tries not to scowl.
The tall Dothraki warrior mutters something in his people's language.
Illyrio, ever eager to make himself look favorable translated, “Silver for the silver of your hair, the Khal says.”
Viserys looked pleased, “It’s nice.”
He almost shouts as Khal Drogo lifts him easily and places him on the horse. Embarrassment washed over him as he realizes just how easy the other man found his weight.
The people stare at him with renewed wonderment as he sighed before adjusting himself on the horse. He marched the horse forward, only think that one he’d be leading them away, across the sea. So caught up, he barely noticed when the Khal mounted his own great horse.
Drogo walked forward, Viserys followed behind as he was led from the encampment.
The sun was setting on the horizon.
Just make the Khal happy. Were those not his own words to Daenyrs when preparations for negotiating with the Dothraki began?
Drogo rode his stallion at towards the meadow. Viserys watched as the Khal's hair trailed behind the man. It was long, extremely so.
‘Undefeated in battle.’
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I would bet twenty quid on attentive Sex Tutor Doreah preparing Viserys for his marital obligations with a lesson on "how to like getting pegged".
One of the things that contrasted between Daenerys and Viserys is that Dany embraced the Dothraki culture, while Viserys made every effort not to, and behaved towards them with a sort of sneering colonialism. I am interested to see how the different circumstances in your fic affect this.
Also interested in how the wedding night goes. Personally, I could see Viserys being too haughty and indignant to put up with it without a struggle, but equally he might be ruthless and single-minded enough to grit his teeth and think of the Iron Throne.
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Drogo came to halt and got off his horse.
Viserys started to dismount his own, before the Khal lifted him once more as if he were a child or worse, a maiden, and placed him on the ground. Apprehensive, he watched his new ‘husband’ tie up the horses. His heart fluttered erratically in his chest. Viserys felt like a trapped bird when the warrior turned once more. His breathing grew harsher.
He could do this. He needed to do this.
Perform like always.
Khal Drogo grabs his chin; he could feel the calluses on the older mans fingers. He shuts his eyes willing to just get this atrocious thing over with. A hand slides to his neck, Viserys flinches.
“No?”
He pries open his eyes, and stared into Drogo’s. His voice is deep and just as harsh when he speaks his own language.
Curious Viserys asked, “You speak the common tongue?”
Khal Drogo’s response is merely a simple, “No.”
“I suppose, ‘no’ must be the only word you know then…figures with your people’s meager interest in worldly matters.”
Ignoring the young man, the Khal began to remove his garments. Viserys looked away again. His shirt was lifted over his head the light loose material falling to the ground, forever soiled with dirt. It stopped paused suddenly and Viserys could hear the sound of the Khal undressing his own self. The heavy belt hit the ground and Viserys stared up at the opposing figure.
He wasn’t modest, but he absolutely refused to look at another man’s cock. Something about looking at it would make everything all the more horrifying, all too real. It was ironic enough for him that just in a few moments, said cock would be splitting him in half.
The wind ruffled his hair in the breeze.
It was like before.
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He’s consented to this.
His trousers were yanked down.
The Khal inspects him from the front then walks behind him. Much like a predator rounding their prey, for once the great dragon feels much like a hare.
There’s a jingle behind him and heat at his back. Viserys didn’t realize just how small he was in comparison to the Dothraki until now. The other man looms over him. He can feel the warm organ pressing hotly behind him. A large hand slides over his hip and touches the soft tuft of lightly colored pubic hair.
Viserys face grows hot, as his body completely stills. The fingers, each one as hardened and rough as the other, touch the base of his cock. It yields no pleasurable response from the Targaryen, even as the Khal touches his length.
Filthy.
The hand lost interest and goes to touch his back. The chill of the evening is the only reason Viserys shuddered for. Not fear, it would never be fear. He was a dragon, dragons were cunning, they were strong, cruel, and they fed on horses, snatching them from the ground and consuming them in mid-air.
The cleft of his butt is pressed against; his checks spread slightly when fingers slid down to press firmly against the outside of his entrance. A single finger slips in. It’s tight awful and burning.
Fire does not harm the dragon, fire does not harm the dragon, and fire does not-
Viserys let a tiny noise slip from his lips. A deep shuddering painful gasp as a second finger is forced inside his dry passage. He only tries to keep his composure as the feeling on being stretched fills him with further discomfort. The fingers move in and out slowly, testing. They feel wide impossibly wide, and he inwardly shuddered at the thought of more being forced in.
As abruptly as they entered the fingers are pulled out.
He almost sighed with relief when the Khal pulled away.
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His kingdom.
Khal Drogo is staring at his face; the only change from the hard expression is the slight dropping of his lids and harsh breathing. Viserys only wants to yell out at him: DON’T LOOK AT ME! He wanted nothing more than to strangle the other man.
His face contorted into a painful one, He pressed forward, burying his face into the taller man’s neck. Viserys clawed at Drogo’s back, trying to alleviate his own pain in some way. He could feel the long strands of the Khal’s hair touching his arms and hands. Between their bodies his flaccid erection unabashedly starts to harden with the friction.
It was about as far from pleasurable as it could get, but his erection knew nothing of his pain.
He has to get through this. He needs to once again survive this. His taste blood only to realize he’s torn his lips open.
Viserys burned inside his entrance horrendous pain, and he knows the inside has to be torn.
The Khal grunts, perhaps the first sign of a possible end to the whole accursed evening. The pace increases and the ‘coupling continues.
IT felt like hours before Viserys felt heard that grunt again and he settled for biting into the Khal Drogo’s shoulder to hold back hisses of pain.
Would it ever end?
The slapping of his thighs and butt against the other man offer no comfort until he hears the Khal groan one last time and the finally heat inside.
Make him happy.
He passes out.
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