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“Excuse me?” Aegon asks. Confusion practically drips off his face, especially with how his eyebrows are knitted together. “You want me to do what?”
A smile spreads across Rhaenyra’s face. It lands somewhere between amusement—the genuine kind that sparkles in her amethyst eyes—and a hint of sarcasm he finds ridiculously hot.
“I want you to put chocolate on nipples,” she repeats, patient as hell.
Aegon blinks again—slow, a little stunned, like he’s digesting the words. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Why?” It’s all he manages to get out, even though his mind is buzzing with questions. So many he doesn’t even dare try to put into words, too focused on figuring out how she landed on this particular craving.
Out of all the things his wife could ask them to try in bed… it had to be this?
“Because I’d like to know how it… tastes,” she says, still calm, the smile firmly in place.
Aegon doesn’t miss the way his sister seems to savour that last part, but he doesn’t have the nerve to comment. Not when the image of Rhaenyra licking her fingers flashes through his mind—fast and bright like lightning across the sky. He can almost feel her tongue against his skin.
Aegon wets his lips, parts them, takes a deep breath. Then closes them. He takes a long minute to think, not quite sure how to feel about this possibility.
Why the hell?, he wonders, and Rhaenyra can almost see the words written above her brother’s head, like he just can’t piece this puzzle together.
That thought makes her smile widen just a fraction, but she waits. They sit there together, on the bed they share every day, and the moment stretches out.
Aegon looks away, still thinking, but one single question fills his mind: Where did this come from?
Rhaenyra watches her lover the entire time. Really watches, scanning for any sign Aegon is uncomfortable.
He doesn’t seem to be—no nervous leg bouncing, no knuckle-cracking. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s curiosity glinting deep in those amethyst eyes, even if it’s buried under hesitation.
Noticing this, she takes the safer route.
“If you don’t want to—” she begins gently. Rhaenyra reaches over, covering his hand with hers, trying to ground him and pull him back to her. “We don’t have to.”
He turns his head, meeting her gaze again—amethyst irises locking.
“I do want to,” he says. Rhaenyra squeezes his hand, urging him on. “I just wanna understand how you…” Aegon trails off, not missing how her lips part slightly as she waits. “…How long have you wanted this, Nyra?”
“Hmm, since I watched you eat that chocolate cake, I think.”
Aegon pauses. Digests that. He blinks once before realizing which day she means.
“Fuck, that was… what, three weeks ago?” He’s sure of the timing. She nods. “You’ve been thinking about this all that time?”
“It’s been a very… trying few weeks,” she teases, making him snort as he fights the laugh bubbling in his chest. Lucky for Rhaenyra, her brother’s always been weak for her jokes.
“Could’ve told me sooner.”
“Nah. I like surprising you.” She squeezes his hand again—a playful punctuation mark.
Aegon arches a brow.
“Starting to think that’s the real kink here.”
“Maybe it is…” She tilts her head, all innocence. “Who knows?”
He huffs but doesn’t argue. Just squeezes her hand back. And in the next heartbeat, Rhaenyra drags him into a kiss—one Aegon doesn’t resist. He’d never deny her that. Maybe deny her anything.
“Fuck, Nyra!” Aegon hisses, trying to whisper, but it comes out louder than he’d intended. His hands clench the bedsheets, practically twisting the cotton between his fingers. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper on his tongue.
Rhaenyra presses her lips together, fighting the laugh threatening to escape at the sight of her brother puffing out his chest and muttering a curse in High Valyrian. But one stern look from him breaks her resolve, and a giggle slips out.
The image of Aegon scowling, fire in his eyes—like some grumpy dragon—is downright comical.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, love,” Rhaenyra says, but he ignores her.
Aegon shuts his eyes, taking a sharp breath as the warm chocolate hits his nipples. He tries to focus past the temperature, but fuck, it’s not easy.
Not fucking easy at all.
His chest heaves. He grips the sheets again. A bead of sweat trails down Aegon’s temple—unmentioned, though Rhaenyra notes it easily.
“Goddammit,” he swears in High Valyrian, eyes still shut. A beat of silence passes before he adds, “I told you to warn me!”
“Hey! You’re the one who had the brilliant idea to heat the chocolate,” she reminds him. He only huffs in response, almost cynical about how they ended up arguing over melted candy. “I said you left it on the stove too long, you stubborn ass!”
Aegon’s eyes snap open. He lifts his chin, glaring at his sister where she sits beside him on the bed. He can’t even get lost in the sight of her in just panties—no bra, nothing else to hide her body.
She’s always been fucking magnificent, but that’s not the point.
“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” He sits up abruptly, as if the accusation suddenly gave him energy. Aegon shifts on the bed, continuing, “Since when does all the shit land on me?”
“If you’d just listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.” She arches her brows, practically highlighting the point.
Aegon rolls his eyes.
“If you’d warned me you were gonna put the damn chocolate there, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Rhaenyra parts her lips, ready to fire back—but stops. Silence hangs for a few seconds. She frowns, clearly annoyed she doesn’t have a solid comeback, and blinks slowly. She realizes her lover has a point.
“Ugh. Whatever.”
She doesn’t miss the smug look flashing across Aegon’s face—the little shit always savored every time she lost an argument, so this was no surprise. Still, all she can do is roll her eyes back at him.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He raises his brows, playing at innocence. And of course, Rhaenyra isn’t buying it.
“But you were thinking it.”
Aegon pauses, wetting his lips, but Rhaenyra catches the grin starting at the corner of her brother’s mouth—small, almost invisible, but her eyes are trained on his tells. It tells her everything she needs to know. She huffs, half-annoyed, half-amused.
But Rhaenyra moves before Aegon gets a chance to think. She closes the distance, fists her hand in his hair to hold him in place, and bends down.
Her tongue swipes over the chocolate-smeared nipple, and satisfaction unfurls inside her at the sharp gasp that tears from Aegon’s throat—whether it’s from the raw sensitivity of his nipple, or the quick bite she gives the sweet-coated peak, she couldn’t say.
She pulls back once his nipple is clean, licking her lips and releasing her grip on her brother’s hair. Rhaenyra notes his fingers digging into the sheets again—and this time, she knows exactly what kind of ache is twisting through Aegon.
A slow smile curves her mouth.
“Hmm… Tastes even better than I imagined.”
Aegon huffs, a sound caught between amusement and sheer disbelief at her audacity. Even as his cock throbs, hard and demanding, and the neglected chocolate on his other nipple feels unbearably hot against his skin.
“And I'm the one who gets called a little shit,” he mutters, his body still tense from her tongue’s absence on the untouched side.
Rhaenyra doesn’t answer with words. She knows her husband is right, but she refuses to stroke his damned ego. So, she lifts a hand and smacks her brother’s chest, cursing in High Valyrian when she hears Aegon laugh—probably knowing exactly what she’s thinking.
Damn them, they’re a disaster.