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The night was warm, Daenerys's chambers illuminated by torches that a servant had already been in and lit, the shutters to her balcony fully pulled open.
When the door clicked shut behind them, her chambers felt stifling, yet alive with an energy that had followed them from the feast. And that buzz in the air, the tension that had followed them around for months now, was more intense than it had ever been.
There was no instant falling into each other's arms, no desperate scramble to remove clothing or to lock their lips together again.
Yet there was an odd sense of calm.
An unspoken promise that was about to be fulfilled.
Daenerys walked to her bedchamber, hoping that Jorah would have the confidence to follow her.
He did.
Though he leaned on the doorframe, his eyes as watchful as ever, not fully entering the room without her permission.
Daenerys sat, perched on the edge of her bed.
She wet her lips, her mind chasing the right words to say. She desperately did not want to get this wrong.
Eventually, her eyes rose to meet his.
“If I asked you to stay," She broke the silence between them that had held since she had uttered those three little words, her voice surprisingly steady considering the nerves that plagued her. "not as my knight, but as a man -" She broke off, held that silence for but a moment, watching the emotions in his eyes as she did. "would you?”
It was her way of asking. She would not command him to stay, she would not ask more of him than he could agree to. Nor pull him to her and allow nothing but lust to drive his thoughts. She would give him choice.
There was a beat, a pregnant pause.
The sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below breaking up their silence. It appeared the tide was rough.
Jorah swallowed around a lump in his throat, and it bobbed dramatically.
Daenerys watched it. Just as she watched his tongue peak out from between his lips as he moistened them.
And oh how she longed for his kisses again. For her tongue to dance with his in a much more sensual dance than they had just partaken in.
Jorah pushed off the doorframe, took a step into the room, and then another.
"You're certain?" He asked, clearly wishing to confirm, given her recent indecision. The way she had gotten so upset.
"I am." She confirmed, no doubts in her mind now.
Jorah closed the distance between them, coming to stand before her where she sat on the bed.
It was a large four poster, raised a few steps above the rest of the room, on it’s own little platform. Jorah took each step at a time. Slowly. Watching her as he did.
He didn't speak, but reached out a hand for her cheek. Her eyes fluttered.
That thrill that she had felt, right back from that day on the beach, when their skin had touched. The one that continued to torment her to that very day. It set her nerves alight, so much more so than ever before.
She looked up at him, and he watched her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Just gazes holding, and his palm on her cheek.
This was a momentous moment for both of them, and it would take a moment to fully process it. To savour the knowledge that they had finally arrived at this point in their lives.
A warm breeze found its way through the open shutters, washing over them both.
It made Daenerys shiver.
Not due to any cold. They were in the height of summer now, there was no cold. But she shivered anyway. Every nerve so on edge, so entirely wound and ready to spring free, that even something as light as a breeze against her skin was enough to make her tremble.
Jorah's thumb brushed against her cheekbone, a slow, gentle caress. Daenerys raised a hand to cover his, and leaned into his touch, eyes leaving his to close contentedly as she did.
He leaned forwards then, a tender kiss to her forehead.
"I'll stay." He muttered between kisses. "But only if you're certain."
It was the first time he had moved to kiss her first, even if it was just a chaste kiss to her temple. Yet his lips did not remain where they fell, instead scattering kisses down the side of her face.
It made Daenerys's breath catch.
No one had ever been so tender with her.
Drogo had been all about the passion, mostly his own. He had kissed her, eventually, once he had fallen for her. But his kisses were rough, sloppy. And he had only kissed her lips. Daario had kissed her skin with the intent to arouse, and his kisses to her lips had been . . . lacking. And Jon, Jon like Drogo, had only kissed her lips. And it had felt. Off? Wrong? Like there was a strange sense of desperation to him.
Jorah's kisses however, spoke of devotion, spoke of wonder and awe. He was truly worshiping her. His kisses borne from a place of unadulterated love.
His hand moved from her cheek, hooking her jaw and bringing her gaze back to his. The blue in his eyes had deepened in colour. And though they still held that same love and devotion they always had, there was desire shining out them in a way he had always kept hidden from her. A way he no longer shielded from view.
Their eyes held for a mere moment, a lust more intense than Daenerys thought possible damn near pouring out of them.
She nodded.
And then their lips collided. Fast and deep. That long unaddressed tension finally about to be given leave.
Jorah kissed her like he was afraid she might vanish. A passion in his kisses that took Daenerys's breath away. Of course they had kissed previously, but this kiss was different. Heated in a way that couldn't be calmed, a deeply routed knowledge that this kiss was only the beginning, and their lives would be forever changed.
Daenerys kissed him like she was finally home.
Her hands tangled into his hair, clinging to him in a way that said she would never let go. The Gods help anyone who tried to pull them apart now.
He fit so perfectly in the space her legs had made for him, as close to her as he could get in their current position. His hand cupped her jaw, covering half of her throat in it's enormity. The other fell to her waist, still, but present.
And as much as Daenerys could feast on the taste of his kisses, they weren't enough. She needed more. Too long had they danced around each other.
Her hands moved, worked at removing his sword belt from where it was fastened around his waist.
It was the boldest she had ever been with him, presumptuous. Though they both knew exactly where the night was headed.
It fell to the ground with a thunk, and Jorah kicked it out of his way. It was the least respectful she had ever seen him be with his sword, always being careful with it, for perhaps it would save his life. Or hers.
It was Jorah’s turn to be bold, the sword completely forgotten. More bold than Daenerys had thought he was capable of being when it came to her. His hands slid over the straps of her dress, pushing them over her shoulders until they fell down her arms. The material of her dress followed, until it pooled in her lap, trapped there by her legs.
Jorah broke their kiss, stealing a whimper from her lips as he did so.
She could have basked in the grin that flashed across his lips. But it left almost as soon as it appeared.
His eyes focused on her, top half bare from where the dress had fallen, chest heaving, breathless from the heat of his kisses.
Desire pooled in his eyes, his pupils swallowing up the blue.
His throat bobbed, his tongue moistening his lips. Yet he remained frozen.
Daenerys took one of his hands in her own, and she brought it to her. Giving more than just permission to touch her, but actively encouraging it. Commanding him without words to touch her.
The warmth of his palm on her naked breast was delicious. She resisted the urge to close her eyes at the sensation, but she would hold his gaze as it rose to meet hers.
She could see the nerves in his eyes, not due to inexperience or fear. But from finally getting offered that one thing he had desired for so long. For what does one do, when faced with the object of their desire in such a way? There is excitement of course, a sense of achievement perhaps. But there is also a sense of uncertainty. For what comes next? What does one do when their dream finally comes true?
"It's alright." She uttered softly, letting go of his hand, confident he wouldn't pull it back. Instead her hand reached for his face, fingers teasing over stubble. "Do whatever you want with me."
"Anything?" Jorah asked, his voice broken, the evidence of those nerves more than apparent.
Daenerys smiled softly.
"I trust you." She muttered. "I love you."
His forehead fell to hers. Their eyes still holding.
"And I love you." That familiar passion had returned to his voice. And it fuelled his desire for her. "Let me worship you?"
"Always."
He held her eye, kept his forehead pressed to hers, but his hand squeezed. Softly, almost tentatively at first, as though he were testing the waters. Then it moved. Sure. Confident. His thumb circling her nipple and causing her breath to hitch.
His kisses returned to her face, bestowing the opposite side to before with tender presses of soft lips and rough stubble. Yet this time they left her face in favour of the arch of her shoulder.
His kisses set her skin ablaze, everywhere they touched, exploring the porcelain of her skin.
His hand continued teasing at her breast, but his mouth had reached the other and his tongue swirled around a pink nipple.
She arched her back, pushing her breasts further into the warmth of his hand, the beautiful heat of his mouth. Her breath catching before falling heavy.
She clutched at the back of his head, and she wondered if he could hear how wildly her heart beat.
She squirmed under his touch, the delightful torture he bestowed upon her breasts sending warmth pooling in her smalls. An ache built that needed addressed sooner rather than later and her hips moved with a mind of their own, searching desperately for friction.
He took mercy on her, pulling away from her breasts and trailing kisses lower, kneeling before her now.
He glanced up, and she knew the violet of her eyes would have all but disappeared, the light colour he was used to seeing swallowed up by black.
His hands fell to the dress where it had pooled, an unspoken question in his eyes.
Daenerys pushed herself up, her hips raising so he could remove the rest of the silken material down.
Nerves prickled in her belly in a way they never had before.
Of course she'd been nervous when Drogo had led her off on their wedding night. But those nerves were closer to terror, a brute of a man she couldn't even communicate with about to steal from her what was only hers to give, and that she hadn’t offered willingly.
But these nerves were entirely different.
This was Jorah.
And whilst she knew she loved him and that she wanted this more than anything, that age old fear of them ruining what they had, and her losing him remained.
She wasn't nervous that he would hurt her, she knew he was the only man alive that she never had to fear. She wasn't nervous that she wouldn't enjoy what was to come, nor that it would be awkward between them.
Jorah knew her all too well of course, could see the thoughts in her head as plainly as if they were written on her skin.
"We don't have to -"
"I know." She responded. "I want to."
"You're nervous." He replied. His hand squeezing her thigh, it was his turn to reassure her. "But I swear I won't hurt you. I would never -" His breaths came out more heavy than before. "I hate that anyone has -"
"I don't fear you Jorah." Daenerys cut him off, eyes searching for his. "I could never fear you. I'm not afraid of you hurting me."
"You're still afraid of losing me." It wasn't a question. He knew. Read it in her eyes. She nodded, brow creased dramatically. "You're not going to lose me." He reminded her. "I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. No matter what, you won't lose me."
"Even if this -"
"This changes nothing." He cut her off. "I will still love you the same as I always have. I will still stand by your side in whatever way you want me to."
There was a beat, only broken by the torches flickering on the walls and the distant sound of waves. Then:
"We can stop." Jorah spoke softly, eyes searching for a cloak to cover her with. "There is never any pressure for you to-"
"I don't want to stop."
She was stubborn. And she knew what she wanted. She wanted Jorah. She wanted to finally make their love physical, to release that lingering tension that had been driving her crazy for so long.
"If you change your mind -" He spoke, eyes returning to her, the rest of that sentence hanging in the air between them.
"I know." Daenerys replied, voice sounding more confident, her hand found his on her leg. "I just need to tell you."
Jorah nodded in confirmation.
"But I won't want to stop."
As though to prove her point she took his hands within her own and stood, bringing his fingers to the waistband of her smalls. She held them there for but a moment, her eyes telling him all he needed to know. And then she helped him to lower them, and stepped out of them before pulling him to standing.
She stood before him completely nude, and all she had removed from him was his sword belt. They would need to rectify that.
And so she worked on buckles and buttons, untied knots that held clothing together. Until there was little material separating them.
Much as he had done, her lips found his skin when it became exposed to her, tenderly brushing kisses over more scars than she wanted to count. Most of which he had received in her service.
It sent a jolt of pain through her chest, at the thought of how much he had suffered. How much he had suffered in her name.
As if sensing her thoughts, Jorah brought her face away from his chest, instead deepening their kisses from before.
His tongue brushed against hers and a shock of pleasure shot through her. From such a simple gesture.
Their tongues had barely grazed one another, that day she had watched him training, but this time they danced, much as the rest of their bodies had not an hour before.
The simple act of one's tongue caressing another’s more arousing than ever.
She moaned into his mouth, and he pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed into his chest, the hairs and the roughness of scars tickling at sensitive nipples.
The duel sensations intoxicating.
She clung to him, nails digging into flesh hardened by years of swordsmanship, and she backed up but a step to the bed, tumbling backwards with him still clutched to her.
One hand landed beside her head, stopping his weight from crushing her, the other holding her close. Not that such a slight tumble would have harmed her.
He hovered over her, before kissing his way down her body again. This time there was no trapped dress to stop him part way, no smalls to get in between them either. He settled himself between her legs and the sensation of his lips aganst her hot flesh made her jolt, the feeling unexpected, foreign.
No man had ever kissed her there. And she hadn't realised. Hadn't realised that it would feel like pure desire, pure ecstasy.
Her nerves were alight with pleasure, and she unabashedly lifted her hips, craving more of the delightful sensation.
Her hands clutched the bedsheets, fingers white with the intensity of her grip.
She fought towards release, that tension that had been heavy in the air between them for so very long, building within her now. The pressure growing to almost unbearable heights.
Her legs wrapped around Jorah's back, pulling him closer. Her moans echoed around the room, drowning out all sound of the sea battering the rocks below. Drowning out the sound of her own pounding heartbeat in her ears.
And just when she thought the pressure was too much, just as she was about to pull away from a feeling much too intense. That pressure broke. Dissipating all at once in a blissful ecstasy.
Her toes curled, eyes scrunched closed and lips parted as a deep groan fell from them.
But Jorah didn't stop teasing at her, not until she did pull back, too sensitive to allow him to keep going.
He smirked against her thigh, where he pressed an affectionate kiss.
Her breathing was laboured, but she pulled him to her, kissing him hard. She could taste herself on his lips, not entirely unpleasant, but odd all the same. It sparked her arousal again.
When they had been pulling clothing from one another, all that had remained was Jorah's smalls. She tugged at them now, guiding them down his legs and pushed on his arm until he lay on his back.
She kissed her way over the scarred plains of his chest, over toned abdominals, mapping his body with her lips.
And then she was face to face with his manhood. He was thicker than she was used to, shorter than Drogo but longer than Jon or Daario.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, and her fingers ghosted over the hardened flesh.
He hissed in response, and it was her turn to smirk.
And then she considered something, something she had never dreamed of doing for any man. She settled between his legs as he had hers and lowered her face, hair spilling across his abdomen.
"Daenerys." His voice stuttered, hand trailing through her hair. "You don't have to-"
She lifted her face, looking up at him from a highly erotic position.
"And if I want to?"
He swallowed, the rise in his throat bobbing dramatically.
"Just because I -"
"No." She cut him off. "Not just because you did. But Jorah. You do so much for me, always have. You damn near died for me. I should be able to do things for you also."
"Not through obligation." He stuttered. "I would never expect -"
"I know." She uttered.
She held his eye for a second longer, before returning to the position she had been in a momet before, but then she hesitated, realising she had no idea -
"Just do what feels right." Jorah cut off her thoughts, again proving how well he could read her. Her eyes rose, and she nodded. "But stop if you want to."
She wouldn't stop. Not unless he asked her to.
"You'll tell me," She asked. "If it's not very good?"
Jorah chuckled.
"I doubt you have to worry about that." He answered her.
She was wary of disappointing him, but she lowered her head anyway, her hair a curtain that kept her actions hidden from his view. Her tongue drew a line right from base to tip, and he sucked in a breath.
That sound emboldened her, and she took him into her mouth, hand wrapping around the part of him she couldn't fit.
The groan that left his lips was carnal. Deep and raw. His hand found her head, fingers weaving in amongst silver curls, cupping her head in an oddly tender way for the act being performed. As most men would have clutched at her head and pulld it back and forth at their pace. Yet Jorah was gentle, holding not pulling. And it made her chest tighten with affection.
It was Jorah's way of encouraging her.
She wouldn't lie, it wasn't the most pleasant of acts. But she could tell Jorah enjoyed it, and for that alone she would continue.
She enjoyed that she could reduce her stoic bear to a quivering mess.
His hips barely rose and fell as he resisted thrusting into her throat, always thinking of her even as he received pleasure.
His legs shook.
Daenerys became bold.
With her hand still pumping him she pressed the flat of her tongue against the very tip of him, and then circled it there.
He gasped, his fingers gripping a fraction too tight in her hair.
"Khaleesi." He called, his other hand reaching for her also, pulling her back just a touch.
She did as he bade without hesitation, glancing up at him.
"You need to stop that." His voice shook, his eyes almost entirely black, hooded. "Come here?"
She went with no resistance, settling into his arms at once, amazed that despite everything that had been pitted against them, she had shared two firsts with Jorah that night. His fingers found her face, brushing against her cheek with such care, affection shining out of his eyes. She leaned into the touch.
"I love you." He uttered.
Those words had passed between them so many times that evening, and they wouldn't be last before sleep claimed them both.
He kissed her again, this time with more vigour, taking her breath with him.
His hands were everywhere. Sliding up and down the expanse of her back, tangling in her hair, squeezing at the round of her arse.
That fire was building within her again, a quiet ache that begged to be addressed. And so she straddled him, bringing them ever so close to joining at last.
But she would watch his face, as they finally joined. And though his kisses were dizzying, she pulled back from them, positioned herself above him, and watching his face the entire time, sank down onto the legth of him.
His head fell backwards, hitting the pillow with a groan. Daenerys suppressed a groan of her own. He filled her so perfectly, the pressure of his girth something she had never experienced before, his length not painful, but enough to hit that spot within her with ease.
Just teasing at it.
They were meant to fit together.
Her head tilted back, hair falling over their legs. Her eyes fell closed. Gods she hadn't even moved yet and the feeling was more than she could have dreamt of.
She rose and fell once, with a flourish of her hips and her head fell forwards with a moan.
Jorah pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around her and allowing her a resting spot for her heavy head.
"Jorah." She uttered, every movement so intense, needing him to ground her.
Her arms clung to him, looped around his neck.
"Gods Jorah."
"Aye lass." He muttered back, his own breaths ragged.
His lips fell to her shoulder, and she moved again, this time finding a rhythm that had them both moaning and clinging to one another like a lifeline.
Her lips were at his throat, teasing at the sensitive skin there, sucking at his pulse point and marking him as her own.
All would know who he belonged to.
And then slow wasn't enough anymore, and her hips picked up speed. Her head fell back again, Jorah's lips finding her breast once more and sucking at the nipple that stood erect.
And that fire that had been building within her, it exploded. Her hips coming to a sudden stop, her mouth open in a silent cry.
Yet Jorah kept her steady, arms still circling her, tongue still teasing her.
Her breathing was erratic, when it finally returned, and she clutched him close to her.
He was still hard inside of her, not yet having found his own release of the tension that had plagued them for so long. So she pulled on him to move, laying back with her head on the pillow, hair splayed around her. She pulled him towards her until he settled between her legs.
He slipped back into her effortlessly, his forehead falling to her shoulder. And then he moved, slow and deep, this new angle just as exquisite as the last. His lips were at her throat, kissing down an arched neck.
And that tension began to coil up again deep in her belly. She hadn't expected it to, but she wouldn't leave him wanting. Not Jorah.
Yet everything about laying with Jorah was different to what she had experienced before. It was so much more intense, more intimate.
Even at the slow pace he set, that urge for another release grew within her exponentially.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slid deeper inside of her, hitting a spot that made her see stars.
His thrusts sped up, his own need for release now much too intense.
And this time when she fell, Daenerys held his eye, staring into those eyes she had thought she knew in their entirety. But what she saw when that tension finally dissipated in both of them, was completely new. And it damn near brought her to tears.
They lay there, still intertwined, eyes holding. Jorah's fingers ran affectionately over her jaw, before brushing back the hair that clung to her face.
"I love you." She confessed for the third time that night.
Finally she had found her confidence in them, and she was no longer afraid of losing him, of ruining what they had. Because they had taken what they’d had, and had elevated it to a whole new level. They were still everything they had been, but now they were so much more also.
Jorah smirked, a sight Daenerys was beginning to thouroughly enjoy, before confessing:
"Aye lass. I know."