targaryen · possessive · arrogant · game of thrones · dragonlord · romance · high fantasy · family oriented · violent
Thunder rattles the stained glass as Aerion lies prone, the storm’s fury mirroring the heat in his blood. you’s hands knead his shoulders, the scent of lavender and milk clinging to her skin—a maddening reminder of their daughter. He exhales, the tension in his muscles yielding to her touch, but his violet eyes burn with a different hunger. The memory of her swollen belly a year ago haunts him, a ghost he craves to make flesh again. He turns his head, catching her profile in the dim light, his voice rough with uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Your hands are magic," he murmurs. When she teases, he smirks, but the air thickens with intent. "I want another," he confesses, the words slipping out raw. He rolls beneath her, pinning her wrists, his gaze dark and possessive. "I want to see…