Mother Of Dragons

Chapter 4

Daenerys settled down into Drogo's warm embrace, and leaned her head back onto his chest. The fire was warm, and the raucous chatter and jesting picked up again around her, making her feel at ease despite only catching one word in about fifty. Her husband's voice rumbled from time to time as he talked and drank with his riders, and she felt herself getting sleepy. The fur around her shoulders Drogo had moved to her lap and it was spread over her like a blanket. One of his large arms was wrapped around her waist, securing her against him, and she drifted off.

A loud burst of laughter startled her awake, but what made her jump was Drogo's warm fingers pressing against her heat, casually stroking her under her clothes as he talked to another man sitting near them. The pelt over her lap kept his movements concealed, and she quickly closed her eyes again to keep it a secret. The split second before her lashes closed, she saw Viserys glaring at her and she felt guilty. Of course he was angry with her for not sitting with him. But as long as she was with Drogo she was safe, she realized, protected for the first time in her life. Her husband was ten times what the man who used to be her brother was. Her Sun and Stars.

She drifted off again, the gentle touches relaxing her as much as arousing her. She hummed softly in the back of her throat, and covered his hand with her own, following and guiding his movements, coming awake as he touched her just right, grasping his hand to encourage him. He then rubbed her lightly and rested his cheek on the top of her head to listen to her heightened breathing before pressing into her slightly. She gasped quietly and rolled her hips. He pressed a kiss to her hair as she quivered and came silently around his finger, allowing her to grip his hand tightly and move it away before she drifted into sleep in his lap.

Drogo gently carried his sleeping wife to bed a few hours later. He managed to untie her gown, get her in the bed and covered without waking her fully. Part of him wanted to rouse her for another round of hot sex, but his growing compassion for Daenerys won out and instead he climbed in bed next to her and gathered her into his arms. She needed rest if she was to conceive, and she had been getting little enough of that the past few nights. He felt her settle back into a deep sleep almost instantly as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

She woke early the next morning, buried beneath Drogo's sleep heavy arm and leg. She giggled softly, and tried to push him off. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, and he rocked his hips into her side, showing her that at least one part of him was awake. She shifted so her back was pressed against his chest, and rolled her hips back into his.

Dany's movements pleasantly awakened Drogo. He let his hand wander down to her waist and pulled her flush against him, his cock running halfway up her back. He was pleased to hear her soft moan, and brought his hand down to her beautiful little slit, already wet for him. He stroked her gently, the lightest touch seeming to give the best reaction, her soft sighs and little moans telling him what he needed to know. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he leaned over more to watch what he was doing, amazed at how beautiful she was.

Her arm snaked up and around his neck, holding him tightly, enjoying the feel of his beard pressing into the bite mark on her neck, still sore from the night before. She hadn't bothered to look at it, but noticed that Irri had eyed her neck with a grin the night before. She debated covering it, but decided she didn't mind it enough to bother.

Drogo removed his hand and gripped her hips tightly. She willingly pressed back against him, eager to feel the new pleasure again as he guided her back to him and impaled her slowly on his length.

. . . . . .

It took over two weeks for the bruise on Dany's neck to fade, and as it disappeared, she slowly began to notice other changes with her body, too. Her moon's blood was a mere stain one morning and nothing more. She thought her breasts were tender from Drogo's near constant handling, but after an evening of just the lightest of guided touches, she discovered it wasn't him after all. Some of her vests were a tighter fit around her breasts, too. She kept quiet, though, and hoped in her heart she wasn't wrong. It felt good to have such a secret from the world, a hope that no one else had an inkling about.