Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Stop that, you’re going to make me fall.”

“Then slow your pace! My legs are too short.”

“Why don’t you just let go of me?”

“I can’t, you might run off!”

“As if your puny little fingers could keep me anywhere I did not wish to be.”

Dunk rubbed his temples in hopes of suppressing the growing headache beneath them. Aerion and Egg had been bickering all morning, and even though they’d only had to be physically separated once, it was still getting difficult to manage—especially with the frustration of seemingly no lord in the realm remembering Ser Arlan. 

“Ser, please tell Alec to walk slower.”

Aerion pinched the boy’s ear, and Dunk had to grab him by the wrist to make him stop that. 

“You two— Egg, quit pestering him, and Alec, you’re too old to be fighting with a pup. Both of you keep your hands to yourselves.”

For all their troubles, Aerion and Egg did bear a striking resemblance to one another when showing their annoyance with Dunk’s orders. 

“I’m sorry, Ser. We should not trouble you so when you have to bear the indignity of your master dying over and over.”

Dunk put a hand on Aerion’s shoulder when the boy’s comment made him bristle, but he didn’t know what to say to comfort him when there wasn’t any real way to dispute Egg’s words. The sound of horns playing saved Dunk from having to try. He grabbed the attention of a man walking past. 

“Hey. Who’s come?”

“Can’t you see the banners, you giant cunt?”

Dunk was a bit taken aback by the unnecessary hostility, but the royal procession drew his attention before he had much time to think on it. 

“Perhaps I should go back, Ser. Check on the camp?” Egg suggested while Aerion pulled his hood up to cover his head. “Make sure no thieves have been nosing about.”

“And what would you do if they had? I will go as well,” Aerion said, much to Egg’s obvious displeasure. 

“Perhaps you should stay with Ser Duncan. Don’t you want to see if you can catch a glimpse of the hammer and the anvil?”

“Perhaps you should shut your mouth. I will have plenty of time to catch a glimpse later on.”

Aerion took the horse's reins from Dunk, who could only watch in confusion as the boys argued. 

“Alec, you are being unreasonable, you must stay,” Egg said, earning the same amount of annoyance from Aerion as he’d gotten all morning, despite that comment being notably more bold. 

“I am being unreasonable? You little—”

“Enough,” Dunk interrupted. “I have an idea, and the two of you best behave yourselves while I’m gone. I see a mark on either of you, the other will get one to match.”

Aerion rolled his eyes as he turned away, but the hand he used to nudge Egg’s back was not unkind when he urged the boy to start walking. Dunk had no doubt some choice words would be exchanged between the pair, but he hoped that would be as far as it went. 

Sneaking into Ashford Castle was concerningly easy, though making his way through the halls to find the Targaryens did take Dunk some time. He knew he was being too risky—borderline mad, even—but he was getting desperate. 

“Perhaps they were delayed?” Dunk heard Lord Ashford ask.

“Fuck me. “Delayed”. They’re not delayed,” a harsh voice responded. 

Dunk did not expect to hear a prince of the realm speak with such vulgarity, and he found himself even more surprised when he peeked into the room to find that it had been Prince Maekar. Even though knowing his dearest friend had taught him well not to expect submissive behavior from every omega, it was still rare to find one as aggressive as Aerion. 

“Do not curse our gracious host,” said the man that Dunk recognized from the procession’s arrival as Prince Baelor. His tone was far, far softer than his brother’s. 

“I said fuck me, not fuck him. It’s not his fault Father bade us attend this miserable circus.”

“Might we discuss this another time?” 

A strange thing, for a hedge knight to feel any sense of solidarity with the heir to the iron throne. Dunk was certain he’d had similar exchanges with Aerion a thousand times, right down to the attempt at diversion going ignored. 

“I say we go hunting,” Maekar suggested, nearly pacing in his frustration. 

“Daeron has done this before. You should not have commanded him to enter the lists.”

A sharp shush behind him yanked Dunk from his spying, and he turned to see Lady Gwin Ashford herself. 

“Two of the Prince’s remaining sons are missing,” she whispered. “Probably dead.”

“Dead?”

Lady Ashford nodded. 

“Wars have started for less.” She regarded Dunk silently for an awkward moment where he failed to think of a response, and hissed “You’re big and stupid,” before running off. Gods, nobles were too strange…

“They have only been missing a day. No doubt Ser Roland will turn him up, and Aegon along with him,” Baelor said. 

“No doubt? Just as there was no doubt that my Aerion had simply gotten lost fucking… playing in the woods?”

Even from the hall, Dunk could feel the air of the room shift with that remark, and Prince Baelor stayed quiet for a long beat. 

“That is not a fair comparison, brother. Aerion disappeared alone, and the boy was even younger than Aegon is now.”

“Yet, I seem to recall you being the one to insist that my son was well until his decayed body was laid before us.”

“…It is not a crime to hope.”

Maekar scoffed. 

“Gods, if that wretched heir of mine loses me another child, I may believe he’s doing it on purpose,” the younger prince grumbled, dropping into a chair with a loud groan. “If he loses me another babe, I will see to it personally that Aemon is my sole surviving son.”

Another moment of silence passed before Maekar spoke again, now much louder, and much more terrifying. 

“You! Who are you? What do you mean by spying on us?”

Dunk could not wait to tell Aerion and Egg that he’d finally found a way to enter the lists, and Aerion especially that it came by way of the Targaryens. Well, one Targaryen, and not the one Aerion idolized, but he admired the hammer well enough, even if he preferred the anvil. 

Though he soon realized that he’d have to wait, considering he found his companions watching the puppet show he and Aerion had seen the previous night. Aerion was seated directly behind the children so that Egg could lean against his legs, but he looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Dunk did not understand that. It was an entirely different show they were putting on, surely he couldn’t find it that boring.

Egg was the first to notice Dunk once the crowd began to filter out, and he was exceptionally more pleased to see him than Aerion was—for reasons unknown. 

“Ser Duncan, did you see the puppet show?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t dare miss it,” Aerion said with no lack of mockery. Dunk was entirely lost. Was there something wrong with liking puppets?

“Uh, aye, lad. I should stay to speak with her— them. The puppet— I should pay them, since we’ve watched it twice.”

Egg looked quizzical; Aerion, disgusted. 

“That does seem like a good idea, Ser.”

“Speak to “them” as long as you like. I’ll be waiting outside.”

A small hand darted out to grip Aerion’s cloak before he made it a single step away. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“Stay with your knight, little rat. Who knows what he’ll do if left to his own devices?” Aerion said bitterly, prying the boy’s fingers from his clothes. Egg continued to look up at him with wide, worried eyes until Aerion sighed. “I will stay where you can see me. Is that suitable, Your Grace?”

Egg’s begging expression lasted another few seconds as he contemplated the offer before he ultimately nodded, and Dunk was once again baffled by the strange relationship those two had fostered. Egg was constantly frustrated with Aerion, but extremely hesitant to part ways for even a moment? Aerion was compromising?

Dunk resolved to question Aerion on it later. Preferably when the omega was not grumpily stalking away from him, and Dunk did not have any puppeteers to speak with. 

“Forgive me if I don’t understand why you would pay a random puppet maker to paint your shield when I, your oldest friend, am right here.”

“Wh— Alec, you hate painting.”

“Yes, but I’m still good at it.”

“And what paint would you use?”

Dunk knew his point had landed when Aerion looked down to pick at the table he and Egg sat on. 

“We could find some… You didn’t even ask my thoughts on the sigil you chose.”

“Because you weren’t—” Dunk sighed. “Look, if I don’t lose everything in this tourney, you can repaint my shield with whatever you want on it. Would that be better?”

“Better, maybe, but not good. You are still competing in your first ever tourney with another bitch’s mark on you.”

“Hey, watch your tongue!”

Aerion only huffed in annoyance and turned away. Another bitch—what was he, a sellsword? Why was he talking like that?

“And she’s left no mark on me, I’m paying her for a service, nothing more. Unless you don’t believe omegas can do honest work…”

Aerion shoved Dunk’s shoulder and succeeded only in rocking himself. 

“Oh, fuck off. Quit twisting my words, bastard.”

Dunk leaned back against the table so he could rest his arm behind Aerion, even though he knew a direct touch would not currently be welcome. 

“I’m not twisting—”

“Yes! Hedge knight!”

All three of them looked up at the sound of Lyonel Baratheon shouting as he stumbled away from his game of tug-of-war and over towards Dunk. He grabbed the side of Dunk’s neck with a severe expression. 

“Hedge knight, I need—” Lyonel stopped speaking abruptly when his eyes darted to Aerion, who was attempting to hide his face in his shoulder rather conspicuously. “Oh? And who might this be?”

“That—That’s Alec. My friend.”

“Friend, yes,” Lyonel teased, but his half-drunken mirth gave way to something sharp and speculative when Aerion finally looked at him. “Beautiful eyes for a hedge knight’s mate.”

Dunk was too busy attempting to figure out the unusual statement’s clearly present underlying meaning to deny Aerion being referred to as his mate. He was even more confused to see those “beautiful eyes” narrow in a way that suggested Aerion found no trouble understanding the message. His tone was unreadable, even to Dunk, when he next spoke. 

“You flatter me.”

In the strangest picture yet, Aerion allowed the Baratheon lord to take his hand and kiss the back of it, but he snatched it away when Lyonel sniffed near his wrist. That, at least, made sense. Dunk truly would not have expected Aerion to let the man touch him at all. 

“Might I ask where you hail from? You don’t speak like a man from Essos.”

Dunk may have still been completely bewildered by the entire conversation, but one thing he did know was how to spot any ounce of distress in his friend, and despite how well Aerion hid it, something was unnerving him. 

“Alec is from The Reach, it’s his mother who was Lyseni,” Dunk answered before it became too obvious that Aerion was struggling with his response. 

“Ah, I see…” The hand that had just been holding Aerion’s returned to Dunk’s shoulder with a smack, though Lyonel’s gaze did not. “Afraid I have to steal your mate for a moment, Alec. I need muscle, and no man here is bigger than yours. No man alive, possibly.”

“Please, take him. I may thank you for it.”

“Good man!” Lyonel shouted, urging Dunk to his feet, which he quickly planted in the dirt. 

“Uh, will you—May I have one moment, M’lord?”

Dunk gave Lyonel a grateful, sheepish smile when he nodded and slapped his shoulder again before walking off. 

“Don’t keep me waiting, hedge knight!”

Aerion was stubbornly pouting at one of the tent’s posts when Dunk turned his attention to him. 

“What in the seven hells was that?”

“I know not what you refer to…”

“Horse shit. That was— That was strange!”

“It was a rather usual conversation with a lord, I believe,” Egg said, as if Dunk currently seeked the opinion of a boy no taller than his waist. 

“Exactly as the runt said. What, Duncan, did you want me to spit in a lord’s face?”

“You spit in the Fossoway boy’s face.”

“The Fossoway boy was not of a great house,” Aerion stated, before his defensive look shifted into the smirk Dunk knew to mean no good. “And he did not look like that…”

Like that? Like what? Dunk gaped at the obvious appreciation on Aerion’s face as he watched Lyonel dance between conversations. He couldn’t possibly… That man? Well, Dunk couldn’t claim he was not handsome, nor that he lacked charm, but he… He was a bit older, wasn’t he? When did Aerion gain an eye for older men? Why had Dunk heard nothing about this?

Dunk did not bother suppressing his own souring scent as he thought of how easy it would be for someone like Aerion to earn the role of a lord’s mistress, but he was pulled from his miserable musings by the sound of Egg snorting a laugh. 

“You are very cruel,” the boy said to Aerion between snickers. Aerion hushed him but hid a smile of his own behind the cup he plucked from Dunk’s hands. 

“Go on, hedge knight. The man needs muscle.”

“You won’t join?” Dunk asked. He did not need to look at Aerion’s face to know the disgust he was surely wearing, but he figured he should invite him regardless. 

“No, I will not play in the mud with a dozen lowly men, reeking of sweat and arrogance. I would rather get something more to drink.”

“Do you have enough coin?”

“Yes, Ser Duncan. Go, and don’t let the pup dirty himself too terribly.”

“Do not eat so fast, boy. You’ll make yourself sick. Gods, have you never been taught how to behave?”

Egg scowled in response to Aerion’s scolding, and the sight had Dunk turning away to hide his smile. 

“I’ve been taught just as well as you.”

“Hm, then it seems that massive head of yours has worked as a shield to all teachings of manners.”

“And… And your breasts have stolen all of the softness meant for your heart!”

Aerion physically recoiled at that, blinking rapidly in confusion. “My— What? What’s the matter with you? Breasts?”

It was not often Dunk got to see Aerion too baffled by an insult to even feel any offense, and he could not have kept from laughing if he tried, though he did attempt to suppress it somewhat with his hand. Egg was delighted by his poorly hidden amusement, and it was not long before they were both laughing with Aerion sitting there, silent and completely perplexed. 

“…Breasts?”

The whispered question only made the two of them laugh harder, until Aerion finally left his stupor and smacked Dunk over the back of his head. He could not stop smiling, but he did make the effort to quiet himself while Egg continued giggling. 

“Insufferable. I despise you both.”

So he said, but the fact he simply sat at the table, rolling his eyes as he drank from his cup instead of storming off in a rage spoke to how real his claimed hatred was. Dunk felt something constrict in his chest—the type of melancholy that only ever made itself known when he was at his happiest. 

He was nervous for the tourney, unbelievably so, but at the moment, little occupied his mind other than thoughts of Aerion and Egg. He hardly knew the boy, but he could tell he was a good lad. He had the makings to be a great squire, perhaps a great knight if he so desired. And Aerion…

Well, that one was simple, wasn’t it? Dunk was in love with him. Had been since the day he thrust a stick into his hands and demanded Dunk fight him without restraint. It was an old ache, but that did not make it easier to ignore. Especially not in moments like these, where Dunk’s mind could so clearly show him what an ideal life would look like. 

Aerion and Egg bickered more like siblings than a parent and child, but their conversations made it easy to imagine the way Aerion would behave with his own pup. He would be stern, that much was obvious, and perhaps a bit too critical, but Dunk could not picture a world where Aerion would not love his child fiercely. 

He could almost see the imaginary child sitting at the unoccupied side of the table across from himself. He could see the four of them traveling together for tourneys, or perhaps visits to Jeyne if they settled anywhere but Aerion’s home, which they ideally would. Dunk would not want to take a baby on the road, especially not when Aerion would likely be the one stuck caring for them under unfortunate circumstances while Dunk worked, and there were no lords for the two of them to serve anywhere near the inn. 

“Stop looking at me that way.”

Dunk blinked back to the present, and the view of Aerion avoiding his gaze with a reddened face. 

“What way?”

“That way. That stupid smile. You look like a fool…”

Despite the harsh words, Dunk was certain that even a stranger could tell Aerion was more flustered than annoyed. Dunk must have been staring like quite the lovesick idiot to turn him that red. 

It felt rather impudent to fantasize of a life where Aerion was tied to him by way of a pup, marriage, and mating bite when Dunk knew the omega wanted none of that, but his imagination harmed no one so long as it stayed in his mind. Even if Aerion did want a family, he would not want one with Dunk. 

As if the fantasy had not been soured enough, thinking so much of children reminded Dunk of the conversation he’d overheard that morning. Gods, Dunk had only a squire and an imaginary babe, and the thought of what Prince Maekar had experienced nearly made him sick. To lose his child so early, and clearly in quite an awful way, considering what he said regarding the boy’s body…

Dunk actually knew very little about the royal Aerion. It was not publicly shared how he’d passed, only that it had been sudden and unexpected, but Dunk was certain there were rumors he'd personally been ignorant to. Between a Targaryen admirer and an orphan boy who seemed to know an unusual amount about nobles, Dunk was likely in the best company he could hope for to get that information. 

“Do either of you know much about Prince Aerion?”

Both Egg and Aerion stiffened before sharing a look, and Dunk felt oddly left out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to get along, he did, he simply… Well, what did the two of them know that he could not? 

“Why do you ask, Ser?”

“I heard Prince Maekar and Prince Baelor discussing him today before I asked about Ser Arlan, and it made me—”

“What?” Aerion asked, as close to a shout as he'd get. “But he—He died nearly a decade ago, why would they still speak of him now?”

Dunk frowned at the thinly veiled panic on Aerion’s paled face. Why was that upsetting to him? Did he suddenly feel guilty for using the dead prince’s name? He’d never felt that before. 

“I imagine it takes longer than that to forget a child who’s passed.”

“It’s true,” Egg added. “From what I’ve heard, Prince Maekar has not forgotten him at all. He's never stopped wearing mourning black, and it’s said he even keeps the prince’s ashes in his personal chambers.”

“Stop,” Aerion whispered, strained and nearly inaudible in the loud tent. 

“You asked why they still speak of him, I am simply telling the truth. They never recovered from his death, neither of them. It’s said that Prince Baelor will still hold audiences with people who claim to be Aerion.”

“What? They found the boy’s body, did they not?” Dunk asked. 

“Yes, but it was badly mangled, Ser. I heard that it was so grotesque, both princes vomited upon seeing it. Prince Maekar was especially—”

“Enough.”

Aerion’s hands landed heavy on the table when he shoved himself to his feet.

“You’ve said enough.”

Dunk watched stupidly as Aerion took an unsteady breath and shook his head before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. What was that? Egg grabbed his arm when Dunk moved to stand up. 

“Perhaps I should be the one to go after him, Ser. I was the one who upset him.”

“You think that’s wise?”

“Sure, if I go to apologize,” Egg said with a shrug and a pat to Dunk’s shoulder as he stood and made his way out of the tent in the same direction Aerion had gone. 

Dunk stayed in his seat only as long as it took him to process what had just happened. Egg had a point about the apology, but Dunk didn’t exactly know what the boy meant to apologize for, and if Aerion was not ready to accept it, that would only make things worse.

Finding the two of them was not difficult when Egg’s head reflected light brightly and they’d gone in a straight line from the tent, even if they had made it rather far from the festivities. Neither one noticed Dunk approaching where they stood hunched by the stream—Aerion too preoccupied with his dry heaving, and Egg too preoccupied with rubbing his back and speaking to him quietly.

“I just don’t understand why.”

“Because I don’t fucking want to, that’s why.”

“But all this will bring is hurt. To yourself and Ser Duncan included…”

Aerion gagged again and shoved Egg away from him with enough force to make the boy step back, but not enough to send him on his ass. 

“Just shut up, Egg on...”

On? On what?

“You’re being cruel. Unimaginably cruel,” the boy said with all the frustration of a child who knew there was little to be done within his control. 

Aerion stood up straight and wiped his mouth despite the dry ground in front of him making it clear his retching was fruitless. 

“So you’ve said.”

“Why can’t you just—”

Both of their heads whipped around when a stick crunched beneath Dunk’s foot, and he put his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I only—The joust is set to begin soon…”

Eyes closed and head tipped back towards the night sky, Aerion groaned quietly. 

“Of course it is.” He sighed. “Fine, then. Lead the way.”

By the time they found a decent spot in the crowd to watch the joust, Dunk had Egg on his shoulders and Aerion’s back flush with his chest in a similar manner as the night before, this time with Dunk opting to wrap his arms around Aerion’s shoulders instead of his waist. Only because this way made it easier to block anyone from getting too close to Aerion—Dunk would have much rather let his hold drift lower. 

“Can you see well?” 

“It’s fine,” Aerion said sharply. 

It didn’t sound fine. What Dunk wouldn’t give for a second pair of shoulders…

The arrival of the joust’s participants was quick to distract Dunk from his fretting over the man in front of him, who had fortunately found an angle to peek between bodies. 

“Hey, who’s that?” Dunk asked when a handsome man in dark armor rode in on a dark steed. Egg was the one to answer him, though Dunk was near certain that Aerion could as well, if he’d been in the mood for it. 

“Prince Valarr. Baelor’s son. Second in line to the throne.”

“He’s the favorite, I’d wager.”

“I’ll take that bet, Ser,” Egg said at the same moment Aerion scoffed. 

“Valarr is the first person I would challenge.”

“You think you could unhorse a prince of the realm?”

“The only reason he’s even halfway decent is fear. He’s been terrified of falling from his horse since the single time she kicked him, it’s pathetic.”

Dunk laughed softly and contemplated covering Aerion’s mouth when two people nearby gave them odd looks for his comments. 

“Where’d you hear something like that?”

“What?”

Aerion tilted his head back to look at Dunk with furrowed brows. Dunk felt Egg lean over to reach Aerion’s line of sight as well. 

“Where’d you hear that about the prince?”

Dunk only vaguely registered Egg’s gasp of excitement, his attention was more focused on Aerion’s confusion that began looking more akin to fear by the second. 

“It’s— I simply heard someone say it once at the inn. It’s a rumor.”

“It’s not a rumor! You remembered!”

“Remembered what?” Aerion snapped. “It’s a rumor I heard, nothing more. Fuck, it’s— Fuck.”

Dunk was getting very tired of having to watch Aerion being upset by things he would not allow him to understand. He did not resist for long when Aerion tried to break free of his arms, but he wanted to. Even more when the charred scent of his distress began turning heads. 

“Alec, you… Please try to calm yourself.”

“I am fucking calm.”

“Oh no,” Egg said, his body going tense atop Dunk’s shoulders. “Put me down, Ser. Quickly, quickly.”

“Aye, I hear you.” Dunk crouched as much as he could within the crowd and slid the boy off his shoulder to set him on his feet. “What is it, lad?”

“Nothing! I… I simply wanted to get a closer look, Ser.”

And that was urgent enough to make him smack Dunk in the head? Dunk glanced back up at the joust Egg was apparently quite desperate to see, and took a moment to understand what he was looking at. Was it… No, it was not a trick of the light—Prince Valarr was staring rather intently in his direction. 

Dunk wondered what could have caught a prince’s attention in a crowd of smallfolk, but he did not have long to dwell on it. 

“I wish to return to camp.”

“Now? Alec, the joust’s not even begun.”

“I wish to return alone.”

Dunk grabbed Aerion’s upper arm and leaned down to speak quietly when it seemed like he was planning to take off without another word. 

“I don’t want to leave you by yourself when you’re upset…”

“And when the fuck do you want to leave me by myself?” Aerion hissed. “I can’t take a step without you kicking my heel. Has it crossed your mind that I may desire even a brief moment without you clinging to me like a giant leech?”

“…Oh.”

It hadn’t crossed his mind, actually. Dunk wanted to be near Aerion so desperately and so constantly that he missed him when he blinked. He hadn’t considered that Aerion might ever wish to be apart during their limited times together. The thought had him wondering how many visits had been made miserable for Aerion by Dunk wanting to spend every waking moment at his side. He dropped his hand from Aerion’s arm. 

“I’m sorry. I never realized I was—”

Dunk was drowned out by the sound of the joust starting, and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Aerion couldn’t have chosen a quieter, more private moment to confirm a fear so deep seated that Dunk had forgotten it entirely? He couldn’t have picked a more convenient time to break his heart?

“I’m sorry. I will… I’ll try to stop.”

Between the cheering around them and his own mumbling, Dunk was unsure if Aerion even heard him until the man was staring at him with wide, worried eyes. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Dunk caught only a glimpse of Aerion’s scowl before he was nearly jumping to give Dunk an odd, half-embrace and a kiss on the cut of his jaw. The touch was enough to freeze Dunk in shock, and Aerion took advantage of the stillness to whisper in his ear. 

“I want only a moment alone. No more. I’ll be waiting for you.”

By the time Dunk regained his bearings, Aerion had already let go of him and slipped into the crowd. Dunk squeezed between people in the opposite direction to reach where Egg stood at the wooden barrier. At least one of them was watching the joust. Even with Aerion gone, Dunk could never hope to focus on the event. 

Aerion had kissed him. It was brief, and nowhere near his own lips, but it was still undeniably a kiss. He’d never done that before. 

“Are you feeling well, Ser?” Egg asked on their way back to camp, some amount of time later. Dunk had no way to tell. 

“Ser?”

“I’m well, Squire.”

“Did you watch the joust at all, Ser?”

“…A bit.”

“That means no.”

“Do you think someone like Alec could ever like me?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about…”

Egg sighed. 

“I don’t believe Alec is a very wise person to fall in love with.”

“What? What does that—Oh, what do you know? You’re just a boy.”

“You asked my opinion, Ser.”

“Aye, and forget I did," Dunk snapped.

They walked in tense silence until the light of their camp came into view with a distinct silhouette standing beside it and Dunk forgot all about their short conversation. He hadn’t expected Aerion not to be there, but it was still a relief to see him standing barefoot in the grass, wearing a tunic Dunk easily recognized. He believed he’d lost it months before. Little thief…

“Took you long enough. I trust you did not keep me waiting for the sake of seeing another puppet show?”

“‘Course not. Are you wearing my clothes?”

“No. It’s been mine longer than it ever was yours.”

Dunk let out a short laugh and shook his head. Gods, he was exhausted, and the tourney hadn’t even begun. He could not wait to lay down and leave his strange day behind him. He began setting out his bedroll while Aerion stood still. 

“You bathed after the mud today?”

“You threatened me if I did not,” Dunk said, and continued when Aerion only stared expectantly. “Yes, I bathed. Why?”

Aerion didn’t answer him immediately—instead, he nodded resolutely and walked over to put a hand on Egg’s shoulder. 

“The boy will sleep across the meadow tonight.”

“What? I will not!”

“Yes, you will, because I…” Aerion said, leaning down to whisper the rest of his statement in Egg’s ear. Egg, who paled with a look of absolute horror. 

Dunk frowned. 

“Hey, you’d best not be threatening the boy.”

“I’m not, but I believe he will do as I say all the same.”

Egg nodded quickly, and Dunk was not entirely certain that Aerion was telling the truth. 

“He can even take my bedroll,” Aerion said. 

“And where do you mean to sleep? Because I know you won’t use the one the boy laid on last night.”

Dunk wished he could say he was surprised by Aerion crawling into the bedroll he’d just laid out with a sly smile. 

“You’d have me sleep in the grass?”

Aerion’s brow furrowed as if he could not understand the meaning of Dunk’s words. 

“What?”

“You know I can’t sleep in either of the others, they’re too short.”

“Are you being intentionally stupid?”

Dunk knew his friend had been moody all day, but stealing his bed and insulting him on top of it was especially petulant, even for Aerion. He studied Dunk’s face for a long moment before sighing and slumping back with a forced air of disinterest. 

“I do not intend to banish you from these blankets, Ser Duncan.”

“But you said you’ll sleep there,” Dunk argued, earning himself an unwavering frown from the lounging omega whose cheeks glowed red even in the dwindling firelight. Oh, he meant…

Dunk scooped up Aerion’s unprepared bedroll and handed the blankets to Egg with a bit too much force for his small frame. 

“Good lad. Shout if you need us, yeah?”

“I assure you, Ser, I will not,” Egg replied, fighting off a shiver of disgust before scurrying away as fast as his legs could take him. 

“Don’t go too far!”

“I’ll go as far as I must to keep from vomiting, Ser!”

Aerion huffed a laugh from where he lay, and while Dunk did not exactly understand what was happening, he still nearly tripped over himself removing his boots and cloak to join him. Aerion adjusting to make room for him was the final confirmation Dunk needed, and he was very careful not to crush his friend when he lay down beside him. Or touch him more than necessary at all, for that matter; though his efforts were made meaningless when Aerion immediately plastered himself to Dunk’s side. 

“Are… Are you comfortable?”

“I’m fine, but there is a way you could make me more comfortable.”

“How?”

Aerion tugged on Dunk’s tunic. “Take this off.”

Dunk had already sat up, pulled the tunic over his head, and laid back down before he thought to ask “Why? Ah, Aerion—”

Aerion’s fingers were cold where they crept across Dunk’s ribcage, but the temperature was not what made him shiver. Dunk’s hand instinctively went to the thigh thrown over his hips, and the feeling of bare skin beneath his palm made his mouth go dry. Dunk really, truly did not understand what was happening. 

“Aerion, your smallclothes…”

“I’m not wearing any.”

“You… You’re not?” Dunk practically squeaked out and winced at the pitch of his own voice. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Aerion grabbed the hand on his thigh to guide it higher, but Dunk yanked it away before he could reach somewhere untoward. Aerion’s scent did not fully shift into the charred wood of his displeasure, but it did seem to singe. 

“…You do not want to touch me?”

“What? No! No, that’s not—I just… I’m just confused.”

Aerion scoffed and put as much distance between them as he possibly could when sharing a single bedroll. 

“Why did you act so excited to lay with me if you did not want this? Did you simply wish to see me embarrass myself?”

The scent he gave off rivaled that of the fire crackling nearby, and Dunk was almost tempted to cover his nose to escape the clear indication that he’d upset the omega. What he actually did, unfortunately, was let out a whine far too pathetic and apologetic for a man nearly seven feet tall. 

“No, Aerion. I just don’t understand what “this” is. You know I’ll do anything you want me to. Always,” Dunk whispered the last word, taking a risk to try and find Aerion’s hand beneath the blanket. He brought it to his lips when his touch was not immediately rejected, and Aerion watched raptly as Dunk kissed his knuckles. 

“Then will you fuck me?”

Dunk blinked before responding quite eloquently,

“…Huh?”

“Will you, fuck me?” Aerion asked a second time, returning to his place pressed to Dunk’s side, not stopping until he laid halfway on top of him. “You can imagine that puppet whore while you take me, if you must.”

“Don’t call her that.”

It took Aerion’s expression crumbling for Dunk to realize he should have addressed two parts of that statement. 

“Aerion—”

“Fine. Imagine your puppet woman. Just do not deny me this.”

“I won’t. I won’t deny you, but I also won’t…” Dunk covered the small hand resting on his chest with his own, and waited until Aerion met his eye before continuing. “If we lay together, I want to see you. I want to think only of you. Is that… Will you allow it?”

In lieu of an answer, Aerion surged forward to crush their mouths together. 

As embarrassing as it would have been to admit, Dunk had never kissed anyone before. Why would he, when the only person he’d wanted in that way had not deigned him worthy of it before that very moment? That being said, he still believed he knew enough to recognize that most kisses did not hold so much desperation. Aerion did not kiss like he wanted to feel his lips, he kissed like he wanted to eat him. 

Dunk couldn’t complain, even if his own lack of experience meant he could do little more than futilely attempt to keep up. Aerion bit his lip and took advantage of Dunk’s involuntary groan to slide his tongue into his mouth. He was moving fast—a romantic, yearning part of Dunk may have called it too fast, but the much louder part demanding he devour the omega on top of him took no issue with it. 

“Fuck, Aerion…” Dunk lifted Aerion to straddle his waist when he broke away to kiss his neck, and he absently wondered if Aerion had assisted him, or if he was simply that easy to toss around. Dunk bit back a moan when Aerion reached behind himself to grip his cock through his trousers. 

“Need you inside.”

“Wh—Already?”

Aerion pushed himself into a sitting position with his hands on Dunk’s chest to stare down at him, and Dunk had to force himself not to fixate on how small Aerion looked in his lap, wearing his clothes. 

“What do you mean, already? Are you not aroused enough?”

The skin of Aerion’s thighs was softer than Dunk could have imagined, and he shoved down the feeling of disrespecting him in order to drag his hands higher. In his defense, it was not easy to go from hating himself for even thinking of his friend when he took his cock in hand, to letting himself touch Aerion as freely as he demanded. 

“Believe me, I am, but I thought there was…” more to it, is what Dunk did not allow himself to say. “I don’t want to hurt you,” is what he said instead. 

He did not want to give Aerion the impression that he was underwhelmed or disappointed—though, he doubted that to be possible when his heart was thundering beneath the boy’s hands—but Ser Arlan always said that only practiced whores could enjoy fucking without preamble. With as little as Aerion even tolerated the company of others, Dunk did not believe he could fit in amongst practiced whores. 

“I don’t mind. You are… much larger than me. It will hurt regardless,” Aerion said, smirking with half lidded eyes when his words made Dunk unconsciously buck slightly into the air. 

“But I want you to enjoy it.”

“I will enjoy it regardless as well.”

To prove his point, Aerion adjusted the tunic still draped over him until the wetness of his core could touch Dunk’s lower stomach without barrier, and that was nearly enough to break his resolve. Not quite enough, but nearly. 

“Will you let me try something?”

“No,” Aerion answered sharply, barely allowing Dunk to finish his question. 

“What? You don’t even know what I—”

“I don’t want you to use my other hole. That will truly hurt me, and I will not like it.”

Dunk watched Aerion’s sensual confidence fade as he curled in on himself. 

“You’re large. The usual one will be tight enough.”

“What in the— Why would you think—” Dunk cut himself off and shook his head, rubbing his hands over Aerion’s thighs soothingly. “Never mind that, it’s not what I was suggesting.”

Aerion did not immediately relax, but he knew how to calm himself, and only a moment spent leaned down, tucked into Dunk’s shoulder had the remaining tension bleeding out of him. He made it very difficult not to give in and take him the way he asked, especially when he began purring softly with one hand in Dunk’s hair and the other holding the side of his neck. 

“What were you suggesting, then?” Aerion asked, soft and sweet in a way Dunk rarely heard him. 

Dunk did not realize how embarrassing his suggestion was to voice until he was trying and failing to do so. 

“Do you trust me?”

Aerion stiffened for a brief moment, and Dunk hated that he had to contemplate his answer at all, but he could admit that it was a serious request. He kissed the side of Aerion’s head when he whispered “yes.”

“May I lift you?”

Even from his place lying on his back, Dunk had no trouble lifting Aerion by a hold on his waist after he sat back up with a nod, and he did not have to guide him forward very far before Aerion understood his intentions. 

“Oh. You want to…”

“Will you let me?”

Despite all of his earlier forwardness, Aerion looked the perfect image of a blushing maiden as he clutched his tunic and nodded with a bitten lip. Dunk did his best to convey his gratitude with a smile before his face was covered by Aerion finally hovering over it. 

Admittedly, Dunk did not know much about cunts in general. He knew Ser Arlan was fond of them, he knew they could drive alphas mad with desire, and he had a basic understanding of their form. He did not know they could be described as cute until he was crossing his eyes to get a good look at Aerion’s above him. Beautiful might have been a more accurate description for the flushed red folds, framed by sparse white hair and wet enough to catch the dim light of the fire through the thread worn fabric of the tunic tented around Dunk’s head, but cute would not have been inappropriate either. 

“Every part of you is so beautiful.”

“What? It’s just a—Oh…”

There was no technique to the way Dunk moved his mouth once he pulled Aerion down to sit on it, only the overwhelming need to get closer, to taste more. He tasted like plums, the same way he smelled of them when he was in a pleasant mood, though Dunk would not have been able to make the comparison only days before. He’d tasted the fruit for the first time in Lord Baratheon’s pavilion, and he knew now that it had also been the last time in his life he could eat one without imagining Aerion’s cunt on his tongue. 

The ambient noise of the open night was near silent compared to the vulgar sounds Dunk was pulling from Aerion’s body. Even the sound of his own lips and tongue would have been enough to make Dunk blush if he were not so preoccupied. 

He could not understand why Aerion had felt the need to reassure him that he would be “tight enough” when even too much of Dunk’s tongue pressing inside of him met resistance. Dunk couldn’t say he held no concerns, but he knew Aerion’s tolerance for pain was abnormally high, and he had said he would enjoy it even if it hurt. The thought of Aerion willingly accepting the pain of Dunk splitting him open because he wanted more than his body could comfortably bear made Dunk groan and force Aerion to rest more weight on his face. 

“Dunk.”

Dunk had all but made peace with his impending suffocation by the time Aerion stripped himself of his tunic and angled his hips lower with a hand in Dunk’s hair. Perhaps someday he would be skilled enough that he preferred to stay in control, but that day had not yet arrived, and he appreciated the guidance when Aerion made it clear he wanted more attention paid to the pearl that Dunk had only been nudging with his nose. 

“Yes, that’s— Fuck…”

The grip that was surely ripping some hair from Dunk’s head played no role in his feeling of urgency to bring Aerion to completion. No, that could be attributed only to the fact that Dunk hated having Aerion so exposed to the open night, now that he was completely bared. If anyone were to wander over towards the scent of plums and arousal, they’d see Aerion’s entire body before Dunk had the chance to cover him. The thought of someone else seeing Aerion in that position made Dunk growl, and the rumbling against his cunt had Aerion grinding down even harder. 

“More.”

Dunk did not hesitate to follow his directions, and it was not much longer of Aerion riding his face with increasingly loud whimpers before the omega’s body was tensing up on top of him. As grateful as Dunk was to have the privilege of successfully bringing Aerion to his peak, he did wish he hadn’t thrown his head back when he came. Dunk would’ve liked to see what face he made. 

Ah, perhaps another time. 

Dunk continued his ministrations until Aerion was trying to squirm away from his tongue with shaking thighs, and Dunk lifted him once more to help him lay down. Feeling the puffs of air against his chest as Aerion tried to catch his breath was too endearing for Dunk to bear without squeezing his friend as tightly as he could. 

“Calm yourself. You hold me as if I will run off.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just happy.”

“…that so?”

“Of course. I… I enjoyed that. Thank you for allowing it,” Dunk said, feeling even more foolish than he already did when his clumsy words made Aerion chuckle. 

“Yes, I can feel how much you enjoyed it,” Aerion whispered with a grind of his leg against the stiffness between Dunk’s own. How embarrassing…

“Uh, just— Just give it a moment. It will go away.”

“What?” Aerion pushed himself up to stare at Dunk with a clear frown. “Why would it go away? You said you enjoyed that. Why do it if it’d make your cock soft?”

It was almost impressive how quickly Aerion could go from satiated calmness to agitation. Dunk released his best attempt at a soothing scent and gently rubbed his hand up and down Aerion’s spine. 

“I meant only that you needn’t concern yourself with it. You can rest.”

“Rest… So you lied. You do not wish to fuck me,” Aerion said coldly. 

Impossible. He was just impossible. 

“I do! Of course I do, you’ve no idea how badly, I just… Well, you’re finished, are you not?”

Dunk looked away in discomfort when Aerion stayed silently staring for a long moment. 

“You want to fuck me, but because I came, you expect to hold me while I sleep and you wait for your cock to soften, is that correct?”

“Don’t see what’s wrong with it…”

“Gods, you’re a fool,” Aerion said, but his tone was far more fond than mocking, and he leaned down to kiss Dunk before the words had finished leaving his mouth. 

Dunk may have been a bit thick and a lot inexperienced, but he was not too dimwitted to understand what Aerion meant to achieve when he began moving his leg with intention while he licked into his mouth. 

“I still want you inside of me, Ser.”

“Don’t call me that…”

“You must get used to the title, now that you’ve finally become a real knight.”

Dunk’s hand stilled on Aerion’s back. 

“A real knight… Aerion, I—”

“If you are about to confess, I already know.”

“You know?” 

“I knew from the moment you said the words without telling me the story of your knighting. I know you. I’m only surprised you could keep quiet this long.”

Oh, that’s what he meant by “confess”. Not necessarily an easier conversation to have. 

“I only—”

“I care little for your explanation. You were bound to become a knight regardless, and we have better things to do with our time,” Aerion said, head tilted and eyes lowered. 

Well, Dunk certainly would not argue against that. 

The next time Aerion leaned down, Dunk used his hold on his back to roll them over so that he could finally be on top. He’d wanted to feel Aerion’s body caged in beneath his own since the first time his cock got hard, and the experience did not disappoint. Especially not when Aerion was clinging to him so tightly that Dunk was certain if he stood up, Aerion would go with him. 

Even in Dunk’s fantasies, it had always felt too far-fetched to imagine Aerion desiring him so openly. Dunk would have expected him to be more reserved with his affections, the same way he refused to shout or let anyone know the extent of his feelings, but Dunk did know Aerion to be a rather physical person.

“Do not dare to touch my cunt with those filthy trousers.”

“Sorry, I’m—I’ll remove them.”

“Good,” Aerion nearly purred into his ear as he kicked off his trousers, and Dunk wondered how honest his aversion to the fabric touching him had been. 

“Are you… Do you want to—”

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only me here,” Aerion said in an uncommon, complete misunderstanding of Dunk’s feelings. He was most comfortable around Aerion, sure, but he was also made the most nervous by the person he loved. It was a peculiar, stressful contradiction. 

“I want this to be good for you.”

“I already told you it will be.”

“But, should I use my fingers first?”

“If I wanted your fingers, I would tell you. Stop stalling.”

Dunk was sweating. Just another addition to his endless list of little humiliations. He tried to avoid thinking about the sight they made. Aerion, the most beautiful person to ever live, covered by Dunk—giant, nervous, graceless... And sweaty, apparently. 

“Sorry,” Dunk whispered when he failed to enter Aerion on his first attempt. 

“It won’t bite you.”

“Be quiet.”

Aerion laughed breathlessly at the command and Dunk was once again struck by how unimaginable the entire situation was. He did not understand what inspired Aerion to initiate any of this; truly, he did not understand the majority of Aerion’s behavior since they’d reached Ashford. 

Thoughts of how strangely Aerion had been acting brought a hesitation that had nothing to do with nerves. Dunk could not imagine Aerion doing something so intimate if he did not want to, but he’d been nothing but unpredictable in recent days. 

“Why did you stop?” Aerion asked, and his voice had taken on that odd uncertainty again. The fact that Aerion—hisAerion, who had never shown a sliver of insecurity without hiding it behind anger or distaste—seemed to be one wrong word away from shattering did not help quell Dunk’s hesitancy. 

“Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Do you not—”

“We’ve talked about me, Aerion. I’m asking you.”

The crease between Aerion’s brows that had been deepening with each moment Dunk stayed on top of him instead of inside him smoothed out, and he leaned up to press their lips together. It was a far cry from the desperate licking and biting of before—it was much closer to what Dunk had expected his first kiss to be, and the rare moment of gentleness had him forgetting he’d even asked a question at all until Aerion pulled back only far enough to whisper “I do”.

Dunk did not fail to enter him a second time. 

“Slowly,” Aerion gasped as his nails dug into Dunk’s shoulders. Between trying not to hurt him, trying not to come instantly, and trying not to let his scent betray how terribly nervous he was, Dunk could not manage a more articulate response than a hum. 

Aerion ran hot, Dunk had always known that. His body ran hot while his fingers and toes stayed cold, which led to many instances of him sitting in front of the hearth to warm his hands and then complaining that the room was absolutely stifling. Still, knowing this did nothing to prepare Dunk for how that heat would feel around his cock. 

Dunk dropped his head down to pant into Aerion’s neck, and the close proximity to his scent gland did not make it easier to move slowly. 

“For fuck’s sake, how much cock can one man have?”

“You don’t have to take all of it,” Dunk said, earning him a sharp, offended intake of breath and a smack on his shoulder that he likely should have expected. 

“Fuck you. How… How much is left?”

“Less than half.”

Aerion groaned rather dramatically before yanking Dunk’s head back by a hand in his hair and leaning forward to bite his lip as he shoved his hips up. They let out matching grunts of pain when the feeling of Dunk bottoming out made Aerion bite down too hard. 

“Aerion!”

“You’re not bleeding,” Aerion said after a moment of catching his breath and dragging his tongue across Dunk’s surely bruised lip. 

“Not that. You—I was going slow.”

“Too slow. I do want you to fuck me before the sun rises.”

Dunk huffed out a laugh and decided against reminding Aerion that he’d been the one to dictate the pace. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Of course it does, you’re in my lung,” Aerion complained, but tightened his legs around Dunk’s hips when he began trying to pull back. He released Dunk’s shoulders and let his hands rest beside his head in a picture he very clearly knew to be alluring. “It hurts so terribly, dear knight, won’t you distract me?”

“Aerion…”

Did Dunk need to remind him that it was his first time touching or being touched by anyone in such a way? It was taking every bit of willpower he possessed not to embarrass himself by finishing too quickly, and the teasing did not help. The first roll of his hips made his endeavor feel near impossible. 

It was more instinct than intent to pin Aerion’s arms down by his wrists when he started writhing, but the move pulled such a pleased purr from him that Dunk almost wished it had been a conscious choice. 

“Move, Ser. You claim to want to take me so badly,” Aerion leaned up to peck him on the lips. “Prove it.”

Dunk pulled out until only the tip remained inside and shoved forward swiftly enough for their skin to clap. Aerion’s groan of pained pleasure was so loud Dunk almost wondered if it was fake. 

“Too—Was that too hard?”

Aerion growled and tried to free his hands, likely to scratch or smack Dunk again, but the fact he couldn’t get the grip on his wrists to budge seemed to calm his ire, oddly enough. 

“I will not hold my tongue if you fuck up, so stop asking. You are irritating me.”

“I just want this—”

“To be good for me, so you’ve said. Do you know what would truly achieve that? If you would stop fretting and fuck me,”Aerion said, and squirmed when Dunk did not immediately start moving. “I want… Seven hells, just show me that you want me at all, bastard.”

“You know I do. I want you so badly I feel sick.”

Dunk did not think that was the most romantic statement to make, but Aerion’s scent told him that he at least found it endearing. 

“Then why don’t—”

“Because I care more about how much you like it. Because I—” love you. 

But he couldn’t say that. If Aerion had wanted this to lead to something more, he would have said as much, and he certainly would not have told Dunk to imagine someone else while inside of him. 

Dunk shook that line of thinking from his head. No, he was not going to dwell on that in the middle of what was possibly the only time he would get to hold Aerion. He was… He needed to improve his performance greatly if he wanted to be invited back into his bed, and getting whiny over Aerion not asking to be his omega would extinguish his chances quickly. 

If he did well enough, proved that he could provide him pleasure the same way he provided company and protection, maybe Aerion would change his mind. Maybe he could start to see Dunk as a possible mate instead of a friend he apparently wanted to bed. Who could say?

Dunk did not release Aerion’s wrists when he shifted down to rest his weight on his elbows, and Aerion purred again at the feeling of their chests pressed together. Dunk was careful not to crush him, but even someone half as sharp could tell that Aerion liked being covered and held down. Dunk was the one to initiate a kiss for the first time as he began thrusting. 

It was hard. He was hard, obviously, but fucking Aerion was hard too. Dunk was struggling to temper his strength, find a proper rhythm, and keep Aerion’s strangely dexterous tongue from choking him all at once. 

He thought he was managing fairly well, even if the amount of thought he was putting into it annoyingly distracted him from the sensation of sliding his cock into the warmest, wettest, tightest cunt to ever exist. He wanted to lose himself in the feeling of it, but what he was currently doing had Aerion taking the sweetest little gasps, and he did not want to end that. 

Dunk discovered rather quickly that he did not have much of a choice in the matter when Aerion’s scent of arousal thickened enough to cloud his mind, and the omega broke away from his mouth to suck and bite at his scent gland. 

Aerion didn’t bite deep enough to break skin, and certainly not deep enough to form a bond, but he clearly knew what he was doing. Goading Dunk to take what he wanted with words hadn’t worked, so he’d moved on to provoking his more primal side. 

“Stop that. I’ll… Aerion, stop,” Dunk whispered, but he did not sound the slightest bit firm, even to his own ears. 

“Afraid you’ll enjoy yourself?”

“More afraid I’ll tear you to pieces.”

Aerion whined loudly despite the fact Dunk had stopped moving while they spoke, and his scent spiked to something intoxicating as he bit Dunk’s neck even harder. Dunk would have been concerned about the scent traveling if he had any rational thought left over. 

When he began thrusting again, he had no hope of maintaining his earlier, deliberate movements, and the part of his mind telling him to slow down, to be more gentle, was quickly drowned out by Aerion’s moaning. 

“Yes, like—Fuck, like that.”

Dunk released one of his wrists to grab his jaw instead, but once he’d tilted his head the way he wanted and crushed their lips together again, his hand moved to Aerion’s throat. It was not tight enough to impede his breathing, but Dunk’s hand was large enough for him to graze both of the scent glands on his neck. Dunk groaned into his mouth when he pressed on them and felt the body beneath him shudder. Aerion’s cunt clenched nicely as well, but that was hardly noticeable when he was already so fucking tight.

“You feel so good, so warm… Want you like this… Every day.”

Aerion’s only response being a moan encouraged Dunk to continue his whispering as he felt the beginning of a knot start to grow. He’d never knotted anything outside of a rut—it was a strange feeling when he was sound of mind. Mostly sound of mind. 

“Want to… Want to put a babe in you.”

Dunk could not tell what Aerion’s gasp indicated at all, but he was presently more receptive to his scent, which was too sweet for Dunk to even smell the burnt wood of the real fire still slowly dying near them. 

“Knot. Knot me,” Aerion rasped as he tried to pull his knees up to allow Dunk even deeper. 

“You want my knot?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take it?”

Aerion nodded quickly, chin tapping the hand still around his throat that he had made no attempt to remove. Dunk tightened his hold gently, just to test, and Aerion’s free hand rose to claw at his back. 

“More, more.”

Dunk would not choke him, he did not trust his understanding of his own strength enough to take such a risk, but he did grip him a bit tighter, again making sure to press on his scent glands. The sound Aerion let out could easily be described as a sob. 

“Please, Dunk. Knot.”

“I will.”

“Kiss.”

Dunk did not hesitate to grant that request, currently unaware of how permanently the image of Aerion looking up at him with pouty, swollen lips and teary eyes, asking for a kiss while he took his cock so deeply that Dunk could swear he felt the distention of Aerion’s stomach against his own, would sear itself into his memory. 

It did not take long for his knot to grow too big to pull out without hurting Aerion, and his final thrusts before they locked together fully were sharp but shallow. The instinct to bite down on one of the scent glands under his hand was powerful, but not as difficult to resist as it would have been if he were further out of his mind. 

Dunk had never bedded anyone before, so he’d certainly never knotted anyone, but he was unprepared for how different it felt from knotting his fist during a rut. He could barely hold himself up through the waves of pleasure that he quickly recognized as Aerion’s cunt spasming around him.

He dropped his head to look between them and watched Aerion’s stomach quivering as his peak continued with an assortment of gasps and whimpers for longer than Dunk thought possible. He pressed his hips down to grind against the place Aerion had told him to lick before, and nearly jumped from how loudly it made Aerion cry out. He repeated the motion until Aerion was openly crying and pushing at him. 

“Enough,” he choked out between sobs, and Dunk would have felt guilty to the point of contemplating suicide if Aerion’s scent held even the slightest hint of smoke. Fortunately, it did not, and where its potency had abated as Aerion attempted to catch his breath, it sweetened once again when Dunk moved them so that Aerion could lay on his chest with his arms wrapped securely around him. 

Never having popped a knot outside of a rut meant that Dunk was unsure of how long it’d take to go down, but that was not a concern. He would have been perfectly happy laying naked, sweaty, and locked together with Aerion for years. 

“I am exhausted.”

Dunk laughed softly at the complaint and kissed the top of Aerion’s head where his hair had become a mess. It was almost impressive how unruly such short strands could be, forming into soft peaks with little order to the directions they would point. Dunk had always found it cute. 

“Was that your first?” Aerion asked after his sobs had finally shifted to soft hiccups, and then only shaky breaths. 

“It was.”

They laid there in what Dunk assumed was comfortable silence for a long moment before Aerion was repeatedly jabbing him in the chest with his finger. 

“You’re not going to ask me?”

“Ask what? Oh, if it was… Well, I just assumed…”

Aerion shoved back as far as he could with them still tied together to look Dunk in the eye. Dunk noticed his frown first, but the blood near Aerion’s bottom lip caught his attention quickly. The skin was only broken in two places, just little punctures, but the curve of a bite mark they sat on promised a rather suggestive bruise. Dunk did not remember doing that at all. It must have— Gods, what kind of alpha would bite an omega’s lip bloody when they came, simply because they wished they could bite their neck? 

Dunk opened his mouth to apologize, but Aerion’s voice cut him off before he could begin. 

“That I’m a whore?”

“What? No! No, I just… I figured if it was your first time, you’d not want to have it with me, that's all.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve done everything else with you. I would have wanted it to be with you.”

Something fluttered in Dunk’s chest at that statement, but his mind went in a less pleasant direction. 

“Then why didn’t—”

“I find myself weary of this conversation. Talk about something else,” Aerion said, laying back down in a position where he could still see Dunk’s face.

Aerion’s cheek squished where it pressed against the chest he laid on, and it took everything in Dunk to keep from cooing at the sight. He was certain that his scent was conveying his overwhelming affection quite clearly, if his expression was not enough on its own, but he imagined he could be allowed an emotional moment after what they’d just done, even if it had truly meant little to Aerion. 

Though, the scent mixing with Dunk’s was not sour by any stretch of the word…

“You smell like plums.”

“Why are you saying that as if it’s something I should not know?”

“I didn’t know. I’d never had a plum before yesterday,” Dunk said, and Aerion hummed in understanding. 

“I’ve been told I smell of dornish plums, more specifically. My father said— No, it was my… it wasn’t Jeyne, it was…”

For the first time in a long while, Dunk smelled that damned burnt wood. 

Aerion’s breathing grew quick and shallow, and he hissed in pain when he pulled off of the cock inside of him to sit up with his knees pulled to his chest and his back facing Dunk. That was too bad—Dunk wouldn’t have minded staying connected a bit longer. A lot longer. 

“I hate this. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to,” Aerion whispered, shifting in a way that looked similar to a child rocking back and forth to soothe themselves. 

Dunk’s stomach dropped. He doubted he’d ever sat up faster in his life. Aerion did not look at him when he tried to catch his eye, but he did not turn away either. 

“Aerion, did… Did I hurt you?”

“Not this, you idiot,” Aerion said, gesturing between the two of them. “Of course I wanted to do this. It’s something else.”

Of course?

“Will you tell me what it is?” Dunk asked, but he knew the answer even before Aerion shook his head. Dunk sighed. 

“Well, whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Given the relationship they’d always had, Dunk did not expect that sentiment to be anything less than obvious, but Aerion still regarded him skeptically. 

“You don’t know what it is.”

“Do you have to do it?”

“I…” Aerion’s eyes drifted away from Dunk’s. “I think I do.”

“Then I’ll do it with you.”

Of all the reactions Dunk would have anticipated, Aerion darting forward to kiss him softly was not one. Dunk's own arms naturally came to wrap around him again when Aerion hugged his neck. 

“Hold me. Just… Just tonight,” Aerion whispered in a tone so uncharacteristic of him that it was truly worrying. 

Dunk nodded despite his concerns and guided them to lay down, pulling the blanket back over them without dislodging Aerion from his neck. 

“It doesn’t have to be just tonight, you know,” he whispered back. 

With his face pressed as close to Dunk’s scent gland as he could manage without suffocating himself against his skin, Aerion sighed. 

“I am scared that you’re wrong.”

And Dunk was scared to ask what that could’ve meant.