The Stormcrow's Kiss

A slight breeze rippled through Daenerys's camp, the sun-baked ground releasing a warm sigh as it was caressed by cool air off the ocean. The cloth screens in Daenerys's tent fluttered, and the queen herself breathed in the earthy scent the wind carried as she lay in her bath. Iron braziers burned in each corner of the central space, filling the tent with a warm glow. Daenerys's eyes were closed, her head tilted slightly to the side and her lips parted the tiniest amount. Beneath the water, her fingers were busy at her clitoris as she pleasured herself, relieving the tensions of the day.

"More water, Your Grace."

Missandei's voice from the back of the room startled Daenerys out of her lustful reverie. Blinking, she slid her hand away from her vulva.

"Yes, please," she said.

Missandei appeared at the side of the tub, averting her gaze as she tipped an ewer of warm water into the dragon-footed copper tub. Daenerys breathed in as curls of steam came smoking up from the water, pleasant heat suffusing the bath. She looked up and caught Missandei glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, snatching a glimpse of the water droplets glistening on Daenerys's full, creamy breasts and her swollen, springy nipples.

"Your Grace," Missandei murmured, embarrassment tingeing her cheekbones. Taking away the now empty ewer, she beat a hasty retreat.

Rolling her neck, Daenerys settled deeper into the warm water and returned to her fantasy, her mind conjuring the image of herself riding a handsome Volantene warrior. The man's dark skin gleamed with oil, his hard-cut muscles flexing beneath her as she rolled her pelvis back and forth. Eyes closed, Daenerys licked her lips as pleasure began to radiate from her clitoris, responding to her forefinger's gentle but insistent rubbing.

Standing behind one of the many cloth screens which sectioned off the inside off Daenerys's sprawling tent, Missandei set down the ewer and glanced through the gauzy material at her newfound queen. Daenerys Targaryen was the most beautiful woman Missandei had ever seen, an embodiment of everything she wished to be. Serving her so intimately was a heady privilege, and it was stirring feelings stronger than Missandei had ever felt for any man. She could see Daenerys through the cloth as she bathed, watch her swollen breasts heave as she gave herself pleasure...slowly, softly, Missandei shifted her skirt aside and slid a hand down to her own vulva. She found it slick and ready for her.

She felt the cold kiss of steel at her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a calm, male voice in her ear, "but I rather need the queen's attention, and you're going to help me get it."

Lying in the bathtub, Daenerys heard Missandei give a soft gasp, and felt a jolt that had nothing to do with her finger. Armour creaked as a man in the uniform of an Unsullied moved quietly into the room, a knife at Missandei's throat.

"Don't scream."

Naked and vulnerable, Daenerys stared daggers at the intruder. To her surprise, he took the knife away from Missandei's throat to remove his helmet, and she found herself staring into the wryly handsome features of Daario Naharis, the sellsword captain.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"You," he replied.

Daenerys felt a thrill of fear. "Let her go," she demanded.

To her surprise, Daario did just that. Missandei hurried to Daenerys's side, physical proximity the only precarious defence the women could muster against an armed intruder.

"Well, go on then," Daenerys challenged him. "Kill me, and see how far you get before my guards capture you. They will make sure your death lasts weeks."

"Relax," said Daario, holding up his hands. He spun his knife into reverse grip and neatly sheathed it, keeping his eyes on Daenerys the entire time. "I am not here to kill you. I am here to bring you a gift."

Daenerys watched Daario as he slung a heavy bag off his shoulder and emptied it onto the rushes. Her gut twisted with distaste as two severed heads fell out with heavy thumps. She recognised them from the day's negotiations -- they were, or had been, the other two captains of the Stormcrows.

"Is this supposed to impress me?" she asked archly.

"Yes," Daario replied. "They are a token of my loyalty."

"Why would I trust a man who murders his comrades?"

"They ordered me to murder you, Your Grace," said Daario, "but I have no time for men who choose to be enemies with the dragon queen. I told them it was the height of folly to oppose Daenerys Targaryen, the woman who overthrew the Good Masters of Astapor in one day. They drew their swords, and I drew mine."

"So am I to understand that the Stormcrows are mine? Or are you just one man offering his sword?"

"Oh, the Stormcrows are yours, my queen," said Daario. "But even were they not, I am more than just one man, and my sword is not to be underestimated."

"Really?" said Daenerys. Her thoughts were racing. Perhaps it was only that she had been aroused before Daario stole into her tent, but now that she knew he intended to offer her fealty she had become rather curious as to what lay beneath his stolen armour. She had only had sex with one man in her short life, but Khal Drogo had awoken desires within her that had gone unmet since his death, and now a handsome sellsword captain stood before her in her hour of lust. Daario had the same powerful confidence and dangerous edge that Drogo had possessed, but he had come to her as a supplicant, not a master, which seemed fitting now that Daenerys was so much more than the scared girl Drogo had inducted into the ways of the flesh that night out in the grasslands. Making up her mind, Daenerys decided to seize control of the situation.

Daario stared, surprised but appreciative, as Daenerys stood up in the bath. Missandei hurried forward with a robe, but Daenerys waved her away.

"Remove the heads," she ordered Missandei apologetically.

Snatching up Daario's sack, Missandei hurried away. Alone with Daario, Daenerys stepped commandingly from the tub, her naked body sheened with moisture as she locked eyes with the sellsword.

"Will your swear fealty?" she asked.

"With pleasure," Daario replied.

Daenerys felt a rush of passion as she and Daario gave in to their desire. Their lips met, soft and thrilling. They felt the warmth of each other's breath as they broke apart and the tug of each other's grip as they came back together. Daario kissed in intense silence, while Daenerys could not help but betray her desire with small noises from deep in her throat. She began to unbuckle his armour as their tongues entwined, stripping off his breastplate and then breaking off to lift his tunic over his head. The fabric rubbed over her nipples as she slid it free.

Dropping to one knee, Daario kissed Daenerys's right nipple and then took her breast in his mouth, making her moan with pleasure as he suckled. She curled her fingers through his hair as he moved to her left breast, losing herself in delight. Then he took her waist in firm, warm hands, turned her around, and bent her over. Daenerys paused, a moment of expectant stillness interrupting their frenzied passion. At any moment she anticipated the delight of her wet vagina being penetrated by his cock.

Kneeling at the dragon queen's shapely bum, Daario kissed a droplet of water glistening on her right cheek. Daenerys flinched, caught by surprise, then laughed as he kissed away another droplet on the other side. Her laughter then turned to a breathy moan as he licked the hollows where her buttocks met her thighs. Her beauty was almost as overpowering as his lust; the front of his pants bulged out like a tent.

Daenerys held the edge of the bathtub, her heavy breasts swaying over the still steaming water. She was unsure of what Daario planned on doing but her vulva was alight with sensation, nerves burning in anticipation of some unexperienced pleasure her body seemed to be more aware of than she was. She felt her rump shifting backwards, moving herself unconsciously towards Daario's face. Then she gasped as she felt smooth, warm wetness on her vulva. Daario was licking her from behind, the tip of his tongue probing her clitoris as he lavished his attention on her wet folds. She moaned as her earlier pleasure returned, elbows buckling. He couldn't have known that she was already enflamed, already burning with need...she was going to come. She was going to...

Daario pressed his face into Daenerys's rump, his tongue on her vulva whilst its tip teased her nub. Her buttocks were touching his face, her anus just above his eyes. He tasted her tang as he drew his tongue down between her folds, his hands gripping the edges of her hips. Somewhere beyond the intimate places that filled his vision, the queen was moaning like a woman on the verge of her climax. Daario felt it first, the slightest tremor in her body. Then Daenerys's wet vagina pressed into his face as her pelvis jerked. She let out a shuddering sigh, thighs trembling on either side of Daario's head as her body quaked with an intense orgasm.

Already light-headed from the heat of the water, Daenerys's vision blurred. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes.

"That was an unusual method of swearing fealty," she said after a moment. "Unusual, but enjoyable. Perhaps I shall have all my followers swear themselves to me that way."

"I am yours now, my queen," said Daario.

"Good," said Daenerys. "Your first order is to fuck me."

Daario was a man who prized his freedom, but never had an order been so palatable. He dropped his breeches and slid his raging erection into Daenerys's wet vagina in the space of one breath, drawing a gasp of surprise from his queen as he sank himself up to the hilt inside her. Already driven to the heights of passion, there was no slow build-up to their coupling; Daario drove himself into the dragon queen hard and fast, his narrow waist slamming into her upraised ass. Daenerys moaned and flexed, pushing herself back into his thrusts, breasts swaying back and forth. Her loins were already aflame, and each incursion by Daario's manhood only sent further pleasure sparking through her. The pleasure rose up take control of her body, her mind floating in a sea of ecstasy as her body, already relaxed, melted completely. Above and behind her, she heard Daario give a tight gasp.

Daario hurriedly withdrew his penis from Daenerys' vagina. Slick with her arousal, it slid easily between her thighs, and Daario held her in place as he came on her belly, her warm vulva pressed into the angle between his penis and abdomen. He shuddered as the last spurt faded, his seed falling from his cock and from the queen's belly to drip into the bath.

"I am afraid," he said slowly, "that I have ruined your bath."

"No matter," replied Daenerys. "I believe I am finished."

Turning around, she cupped one of Daario's flushed cheeks in her hand. Her violet eyes found his brown ones.

"A man I can trust to be careful with his seed is a man I can trust with other things," she said. "Bring your men to my camp at first light. Tomorrow, we march on Yunkai."