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“Please”, Valarr pleaded. For the past week the man had pleaded with you, no begged you to accompany him to his family's annual gala, and no matter how many times you refused he came crawling back the next day to ask all over again. “just this once, I swear, and I will never ask you for anything again,” he pleaded, doing his best pout and puppy dog eyes.
“I hate those kinds of things,” you huffed, using the same argument you had all week, though you were avoiding Valarr's endless pout, knowing full well Valarr could easily make you slip up and agree.
The last time you had gone to one of his family's events, you had suffered from his cousin, Aerion's, attention for half the night, and for the other half had drunk more than your fair share of wine and had ended up being carried home by Valarr, who was all too happy to mock you as he helped you nurse your hangover the next day. “What do I get out of it?” you cocked your head, eyeing him as he stopped his pouting and began clapping his hands in victory.
“Whatever you want! I’ll buy you food for the next month!”
“A tempting offer”, you mused in fake contemplation, “and you’ll buy my shoes and dress?”
“Of course, yes! Whatever you want,”
You huffed, sighing deeply, “Fine.” Valarr reached froward kissing your cheek in glee.
“Thank the gods, I cannot go to those events alone anymore,” he admitted, reaching into his pocket to pass you his bank card, as you moved to sit on the sofa, pulling your laptop to your chest. “My whole family will be there, it’s…” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, watching as you hesitantly took the bank card from his hand, “it’s kind of a big event…my father will be there,”
Your head snapped to his. In all your years of knowing Valarr, not once had you met the famous Baelor Targaryen. “Your father?” You knew Valarr loved his father, admired him greatly and yet he had never once let you meet him, always using any excuse to avoid you and him meeting. You thought it odd, seeing as you and Valarr had known each other since the first day of university, over five years ago now. And whilst you had met his brother, and most of his cousins, having babysat his youngest cousins throughout uni for extra cash. “You're letting me meet him? After all this time? Whatever did I do to receive this honour!” you asked in mocking glee, your hands going to hold your face in fake shock.
Valarr shook his head, moving to sit beside you on the sofa, “stop it!” he rolled his eyes, “it’s not that big of a deal.”
You shook your head, going back to scrolling through some designer website. “I beg to differ,” you drawled, shaking your head once more as Valarr ranted on about the gala his grandmother had planned this time.
The last Tragaryen family event you had attended had left you feeling like a complete outsider, underdressed, and far too underprivileged to be attending.
The Targaryen family was known for its extravagance, the richest family, only second to the Lannisters, but even the Targaryen influence expanded far wider than theirs. They had once ruled Westeros before uprisings had led to democracy, though they still kept their noble title, with Daeron II being the lord of kingslanding. The famous Baelor was his heir, the current CEO of Targaryen Corp, and the man was only ever described as being the perfect man.
You could see why he stood to the side of the entryway, greeting guests, a smile on his face as he spoke with the same kindness to everyone. Valarr stood beside you, your arm linked with his as he walked to his father. The man smiled broadly at the sight of his son, “Valarr, my boy,” he greeted, Valarr's arm slipping from yours as he met his father in a hug. Valarr introduced you, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you.
“It's an honour, Mr Targareyn,” you repeated your name, “I’m Valarr's friend,” had you not been so drawn in by the handsome smile on Baelor's face, the way his hand clasped yours, not letting it go as you spoke. His grip warm and tight, you would have noticed Valarr's smile drop at your use of the word friend.
“An honour to meet youas welllI i have been wanting to meet you for years,” he spoke, his smileonly widening, his eyes never once leaving yours, “and please call me Baelor,”
You smiled, your hands never once leaving his “as have i…Baelor” your eyes still locked with his watched as he moved his gaze over you, taking in the red dress you had worn, how it accentuated your figure oh so perfectly, even more so when you walked and gown made way for a daring little slip you hadn’t noticed until tonight,, you were sure his eyes lingered on neckline of your dress, a slight blush rising to your cheeks as you felt his gave, not assessing, more appreciating.
“I look forward to talking to you later,” he smiled, noticing Valarr, who was eagerly trying to pull you away. You nodded, your face matching his smile as Valarr led you off into the hall.
“You didn’t tell me your father was so handsome,” you tease Valarr, pinching his arm as he grumbled, “what are you so salty about?” He shook his head, leading you to the bar, ordering you and him a drink, “nothing…I-I should make the rounds,” was all he said before leaving you alone to fend for yourself.
It took you an hour to realise Valarr had fully abandoned you for the evening, and a deep sigh fell from your lips. Even though he had begged you to attend, he seemed reluctant to actually spend time with you, you spent more time with the bartender that night than with him. You watched as he talked to anyone but you, his eyes occasionally drifting to where you sat, drink in hand, watching the room, speaking occasionally to the few people you recognised. Empty, meaningless conversations that ended with another drink flowing through your system. Nearly an hour and three drinks had gone by before you finally dared to move, wandering towards the banquet tables, your shoe sticking to your dress as you used one of the dinner tables as leverage. “Need some help,” a voice said, startling you. “Oh!” you gasped, letting go of your foot only to tumble back and land in the lap of the voice.
Hands fell around your lap, holding you as you steadied yourself in the man's lap, “Oh! I'm so sorry,” you started, turning your head and facing the mismatched eyes of Valarr’s father. “Oh, Mr Tragaryen, you gasped, moving to stand, only for Baelor's arms to stay wrapped around your waist, keeping you on his lap.
“I thought I told you to call me Baelor,” he tusked, his grip loosening ever so slightly around your waist.
You blushed, going as red as your dress, “Baleor…sorry,” you corrected, your eyes locked with his. Neither of you made an effort to move, if anything, Baelor seemed to move you to settle into his lap more. Your eyes darted around the room, noticing how the table Baelor had sat at was conveniently hidden by a solid pillar with a Targaryen king of old's statue sculpted around it.
“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling your gaze back to his.
Your blush only deepened, “I am now,” you spoke without thinking, “oh, I mean-”
He shook his head, smiling softly, “I know what you mean,” you laughed softly, your eyes darting to your lap. Jumping up suddenly, you rubbed the back of your neck, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” you mumbled, straightening your dress, as you moved to sit in the chair beside him. Baleor hadn’t stopped smiling, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he noticed your nerves. “Im suprisded your not with my son, he seemed quite eager to have you as his date,”
“Date? “ you scoffed, “Were not-” you shook your head, laughing softly, “were just friends, he’s like a brother to me, I'm only here as a favour,” you insisted.
Baelor's smile widened, and you swore you saw the twinkle of relief in his eyes. He nodded, regarding you closely, “That explains his abandonment of you.” You smiled awkwardly, nodding softly.
“I suppose, though he did beg me to come,” you tried to joke, Baelor had flagged a waiter down, “whisky, neat,” his eyes turned to you motioning for your order, “oh…vodka coke please,” Baelor smiled at you as the waiter walked off, his attention didn’t leave yours for the rest of the night. Neither of you left your hiding spot, nor did you make any move to leave, or to drink the drinks you had ordered. Not once did you look for Valarr again until it was time to leave.
It was well past midnight when Baelor declared they should head home, and you, reaching for your phone, saw three missed calls from Valarr and several texts.
Valarr: Where are you?
Valarr: Did you go home?
Valarr: I’m sorry for leaving you!
Valarr: I just got nervous
Valarr: I wanted to tell you something but if you’ve left I’ll meet you at your flat?
Valarr: hey outside! Let me in?!
Valarr: Are you not home?
Valarr: I’m heading home now. I’m sorry for ignoring you
Valarr: Let me know when you get home.
Valarr: I’m sorry again
“Shit,” you mumbled as you and Baelor waited by the valet stand, waiting for his car to pull up,
Baelor, who hadn’t touched you since you fell on his lap, squeezed your shoulder, and your blush that hadn’t quite left your face all nigh, deepened. “What is it?”
“Valarr left.” You shrugged, your hands going to your shoulders, and the night air became sharp. Baelor reached for his jacket, placing it around your shoulders, his hands lingering as he did so. ”he was my ride,”
“Ah,” he began as his car pulled up. He motioned for you to get in,” I’ll drive you home,” he insisted.
“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” you said, shaking your head, reaching for your phone once more to call a taxi.
Baleor's hands reached for your phone, “Please, I insist.” his smile was more than enough to convince you, the small quirk of his lips had you entirely charmed.
On the ride home, you both sat in a comfortable silence. You felt Baelors gave flicker over to yours, his hand flexing on his leg as if fighting the urge to grab your thigh. You found yourself moving towards him, your leg brushing against the console, the slit in your dress opening to reveal your leg. Baleors had flexed, hovering over your leg before finally grabbing your thigh. Squeezing it softly for the rest of the journey home.
Baelor wasn’t sure what about you had him entirely enchanted. The second he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t stop watching you, watching your smile, how you blushed so deeply at his touch or his smile. He found himself watching you all night, even as he made the rounds, as he danced with some shareholders. He watched you. Watched as you sat at the bar, looking for Valarr. His son had long abandoned you, enjoying time chatting with his cousins or friends. Why would his son so willingly abandon you, had completely escaped him. You were so utterly beautiful, a true vision and one he would surely be in his dreams for nights to come. And yet Valarr, his son, who had begged to bring you as his date, who had talked about you nonstop for years past, a boy he was sure was smitten with you, had left you chatting to a bartender for most of the night.
Baelor had to fight the urge to keep you company all night, to follow you around the room and keep you entertained. His eyes always strayed in your direction before he was scooped up into another conversation. And then he watched you stay to walk around the room, watched you politely speak to the few people you crossed paths with as you tried to make your way to the end of a buffet table. He himself had found a hiding spot near there, eager to escape the endless pestering of lords and businessmen alike, and as he watched you escape your last encounter, watched your heel snag in your dress and watched you lean oh so close to him whilst not knowing he sat right there, he never would have expected you to land in his lap.
He would be lying if he didn’t admit he had liked it, liked how you slotted perfectly on his lap, how his hands tightened mindlessly on your waist as you sat for far longer than you should.
He’d also be lying if he didn’t admit he fancied himself half in love with you after that night. A night of endless conversation, your attention never once wavering from his.
He liked that about you, how, despite how flustered you got, your attention and focus never left his. Never strayed around the room, finding someone better or more interesting. When he spoke to you, he felt like he was the most important person in the world. He treated you the same, loving how his undivided attention made you flush so deeply, made you lick your lips in a way that seemed to enthral him.
He had been all too happy to drive you home, to watch as you bounced your leg nervously. His hands had been flexing all night, begging to touch you. To hold your hand, your waist, your thigh. When you had offered to him, he had thought that he was hallucinating. You are a perfect little thing, so much younger than him, his son's friend. He shouldn’t be so attached to you. Shouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity to spend the whole night in your company, and you shouldn’t be attracted to him. And yet you stared at him as he stared at you. Not wanton but as if you had been seen for the first time.
He understood now why his son had kept you from him, after only one night. He was hooked.
He dropped you off that night, watching as you lingered in the car when he came around to open it. Watching as his hand reached yours on instinct, your hand fitting perfectly in his, as you walked him up to your flat. He hadn’t expected to offer your number, hadn't expected himself to take it. Nor for the invite he gave to lunch the next day.
Nothing about you was expected, and yet it made him only want you more.
It became a routine. A secret between the two of you. Neither of you told Valarr. Neither of you even thought of it. It was something that stayed between the two of you. Not because it was wrong. The media would have a field day with it, but because neither of you was sure what to expect from it, what it was, and whatever it was, both of you agreed that you wanted it to stay yours entirely.
You would see eachother for lunch on the days that allowed it, you spent nights ordering takeout and watching movies. He never spent the night. You never asked. Though each night he would linger, and you would form the invite on the tip of your tongue. But instead, a goodnight would fall from your lips. Even when you weren’t in each other's company, you spent the day texting or calling. No matter what, his days were filled with you.
The few days you didn’t see each other, a longing filled him, an anxiousness to know exactly what you were up to, where you were. Not out of possession, but mere want to know. To know you.
He had never felt so much so quickly. Not even with Jenna, he had loved her dearly. She had given him his sons, and for that, he was so grateful. And yet when they divorced, he did not find himself missing her, not missing her nearly as much as he missed you when it had only been a few days without your company.
This week, he had felt the lack of you even more, he had been sent to a business conference in the north. An important deal was being made with Stark tech, forcing him to spend at least a week away from you. He had wanted you to come, wanted you to join him, but for the first time since he was a teenager, he found himself nervous, scared of rejection. Why? He wasn’t quite sure, neither of you had crossed the line of friendship, a close, intimate friendship where your hands often strayed to hold each other in some shape or form. His hand in your waist as you walked, his hand in your thigh when you sat, your hand reaching for his across the table. But not once had you crossed another boundary, not once had either of you kissed, even if you had both lingered after your every meeting. Both of you refused to cross the line, even if you both desperately wanted to. So he came alone, but not once did his phone leave his hands, just in case you gained the courage he didn’t, to join him.
He had spent the last few days in endless meetings and was all too eager to get some rest, though it seemed his endless duties wouldn’t escape him even in his hotel room, as a knock sounded, just as he began readying himself for bed. A frustrated sigh left him, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he prepared to face whatever challenge he had to deal with.
“Baelor,” you sighed as he opened the door, a suitcase in hand, and an exasperated look on your face.
He whispered your name in shock, opening the door to let you in further, “What are you? When did you?” The questions came out all at once.
“I know I should of asked I just, I had to see you,” you breathed “I, I was thinking, about you and how i” you turned to face him, standing impossibly close to him, “how I longed for you every minute of every day, how these few days knowing I could not see you has wrecked me…I ordered the ticket without even thinking and hopped on the next flight out, my boss thinks my grandma died, and I don’t-“
He kissed you, shutting up your rambling, all he could hear was that you longed for him as he longed for you. His hands held your face, your suitcase flying from your hands as your hands went to his neck.
“Baelor”, you gasped, your head falling back as his mouth trailed and nipped at your jaw. Tongue trailed up the column of your neck, a moan falling from your lips. He stepped away slightly, his hands still holding your face as he leaned his head against yours, “I have wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you,” he breathed.
“So have I,” you breathed, pulling your head back slightly, looking in his mismatched eyes. “You should have kissed me that night at the gala,”
“I should have kissed you every day since I met you,” and with that, he took your lips with his once more. The kiss was bruising, a heated hot mess as your hands gripped his chest, breathless gasps slipping from your lips as his tongue pushed into your mouth. You tugged at his shirt, “Take it off,” you pleaded through small gasps of breath between kisses.
Baelor reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping back from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached and pulled his shirt over his head. “Fuck,” you sighed, taking in the muscled ridges of his nude chest. You took a step back, taking your own shirt off. Your eyes on his as you revealed your bra. He groaned at the sight of you, his hands reaching to undo his belt, as he rushed towards you, kissing you once again.
Clothes flew around the room, his mouth never leaving yours, your hands worked relentlessly to strip eachother bare. Before he knew it, he was pushing you back on his bed, admiring you as you crawled back against the pillows.
He hummed, his thumb resting on his bottom lip as he admired you. “Spread your legs,” he commanded, humming in approval as you open them, revealing your glistening heat to him. “Good girl,” he praised, loving how your blush seemed to cover your whole body at the praise.
He crawled on the bed, his hands kneading your thighs as he leaned over you to kiss you. His hands reached between your thighs as he kissed you, his fingers began to push deliciously into your head. He groaned as he felt you pulse around him, his mouth fropping from your mouth to your neck, trailing down to take your nipple into his mouth. He placed teasing kisses across your breasts, sucking sweetly as he thrust his fingers into you. Your back arched as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, your orgasm fast approaching. Baleor sucked on your breasts as your hands flew to his head, gripping him as your coil snapped. His fingers didn’t stop thrusting into you as you came, his hands reached for yours, pulling them off you and pushing them above your head. Your back arched, your hands reaching for anything and everything.
His fingers withdrew from your mouth at the same time his mouth let go of your breast. You felt cold and sotrng sense of loss as he left you. He whispered your name as he rose up your body, as he placed a soft kiss on your lips, smiling as he took in your flushed appearance. His hands still held yours, making no effort to loosen his grip as he trailed kisses along your jaw.
“Baelor,” you began, your breath heavy, “please,”
“Please, what sweet girl?” he mused, his eyes locking with yours, “tell me,” his voice soft but laced with the command.
“Please, I need you…i need you to fuck me,” he smiled, a full smile that reached his pretty mismatched eyes.
You felt his hard cock slap against your inner thigh, teasing your entrance as his mouth took you in another bruising kiss. He entered you at a slow, torturous pace, feeling every inch of him as he filled you. A moan fell from your lips when he was finally fully seated inside you. “So full, “ you mumbled, breaking the kiss.
“Thats it, you take me so well,” he praised, his eyes snagging on where your bodies joined. “Can I move, sweet girl?”
“Please,” you begged, your hands begging to grip onto him. “Please move,” he gave you an approving smile.
His hips thrusted into you in hard, controlled movements. Your every nerve filled with pleasure as he fucked into you, “look at you, so pretty”, he praised, his eyes locked with yours as his thrusts started to hit that oh so sweet spot inside of you. “Do you think you can come again for me?” he asked, his breath heavy.
You nodded, your head falling back on the pillow as moans slipped from you. “Yes, gods yes.”
His thumb rubbed at your clit, as he moved to wrap your legs around his waist. His thrust growing harder as pleasure began to blind you. “Good girl,” he hummed, groaning as your heat tightened around his cock. His hand released yours, moving to grab your legs and pull them up ot his shoulders. Your orgasm still crashed into you in waves, as he began to fuck you through it. His face faster and harder but even more pleasurable as you felt his cock pulse in you, “fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you and coming on your stomach.
He collapsed beside you, breath heavy as he reached for you, pulling you close to him.” You took me so well,” he hummed, hugging you tightly. He kissed your shoulder, leaving you slowly.
You groaned as he left you, reaching for him as he disappeared into the bathroom. Your eyes snagging on his ass as he walks away. He came back a moment later, a washcloth in hand. He cleaned you up softly, kissing you gently before pulling you against his chest. Holding you tightly as if you may disappear.
Three months had passed since that night, and you and Baleor were officially dating. Though despite that, neither of you had broached the topic of Valarr. And though you had met the rest of his family, even attending a few events where the press had been paid off enough to stay away, Valarr was still in the dark. A fact you both seemed hesitant to change.
Things between you and Valarr had been different since the gala. He had been distant and nervous around you, as if he was keeping something from you. Though you found you couldn’t be mad, what you were keeping from him would change everything. And you would tell him soon. Baelor had planned a dinner with you both and his sons, not that they knew you were coming, just there dads new girlfriend. A person, Valarr, had complained about them despite not knowing anything about them,
Baelor had told you his plans when he came over to your flat that night, takeout in hand. You had meant to go over to his, but your car had broken down, so Baelor, ever the gentlemen had driven to yours instead.
“I could buy you a new car,” Baelor offered far too casually. He did that often, brought things for you that cost more than a year's rent without a blink of his pretty eyes.
“You can’t buy me a car,” you shake your head, reaching for your empty plates, and heading to the kitchen.
“You need a car,” he shook his head, reaching for his phone.
“Don’t you dare buy me one,” you turned and pointed your finger at him.
He laughed softly, putting his phone away, “Fine,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, “I’ll just have a driver ordered for you instead.”
“Baelor, “ you tusked, “you can’t keep buying me everything.” He had started small, buying you flowers every time he saw you. He had been paying for every date or meal since they had met, then you asked him to come with you to go food shopping, and before you could blink, he was loading the cart with everything you so much as looked at and then paid at the till before you could even look at the total. Then it began with gifts, he’d see something that reminded him of you and buy it with no hesitation, and soon the gifts began to pile up. You had insisted he stop, and he did. That was until your TV broke, and he came home with a TV that probably cost more than all the furniture combined.
“Its either a private driver or a car,” he tilted his head, smiling softly, as he leaned against your kitchen counter.
You walked towards him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him gently. “You're impossible,” you laughed, pulling him down into a kiss.
You heard someone call your name, so faint you thought you were hallucinating it, and then you heard something fall tonthe floor, and saw Valarr standing in your kitchen doorway.
“What?” he breathed, betrayal painting his features.
“Valarr, I can explain,” you said, stepping away from Baelor, whose hands stayed wrapped around your waist even as you stepped back.
“You're fucking my dad?” he seethed. “How long?”
“What? Valarr-”
“Don’t just answer the question”
“A few months, but were not just fuckiong-”
A hand fell on his face in frustration, “Valarr.” Baelor spoke, his voice soft but commanding attention, “She’s my girlfriend.”
A scoff fell from Valarr's lips. He turned to look away from you, “How long?” he asked again, “Since the gala?” he hissed.
You and Baelor both nodded, “We were going to tell you at dinner on Friday.”
Valarr just kept shaking his head, “I was…the gala it was meant to be-” he cut himself off, his mouth tightening in a straight line. “Is it serious?”
“I love her,” Baelor admitted, stepping closer to you, “it's not just us sleeping together, I love her.”
You smiled at his admission, you had only said it to each other the first time a few nights ago, and the words still made you flutter and blush.
“Oh,” he sighed, looking anywhere at you both, “I always thought you and me…”
“Valarr? What do you mean?” you asked softly.
“It doesn't matter anymore. If you and my father are serious, then that's all in the past”
“Were still friends, right?” you asked, hopeful.
“I don’t know, I know you didn’t do this to hurt me or on a whim,” he cleared his throat, “I just need time.”
“No,” you breathed, stopping him from leaving. “No i won’t accept that.” You shook your head, stepping away fully from Baelor and towards Valarr. “You and I are best friends, we have been for five years. Five years and nothing more than that, I admit, we were wrong to keep it from you, but we wanted to wait until it was serious.” You took a deep breath, “I love him, and I love you. But he is everything to me, and I tried i did, i tired to look past my romantic feelings for him. For your sake.” Valarrs gave snapped to yours.
“But you love him,” Valarr finished for you, his eyes closing. “I'm not happy about this…But I won’t get in your way,” he looked like it pained him to say the last part, but Valarr was all too happy to take the hug you gave him when he said those words. He helped you tightly, his eyes locking with his father's.
“If you two break up, i swearIi will kill you bot,.” Valarr spoke in his usual soft voice, but you could tell he was speaking the truth. It was a good thing you and Baelor would never break up.