Fic: Riding Lessons
Title: Riding Lessons
Author: phoenikxs
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Dany/Jorah
Rating: R
Word Count: 1952
Summary: There are some things even Doreah can’t teach Dany.
Author's Note: Written for the game of ships porn battle and the prompt "riding lessons".
Jorah sits up in surprise at the sight of Daenerys entering his tent. It's not the first time she has been in here, not by a long shot. Ever since he presented her with Westerosi books as a wedding gift, her presence in his tent, asking questions about their common home, has become an almost nightly routine. The reason he is surprised to see her right now is because he knows that this hour of the night is reserved for her lessons with Doreah. He usually spends this time thinking about what might be on the lesson plan that night. Imagining Daenerys and Doreah, their soft lips caressing one another, warm hands gliding over naked bodies, exploring, learning, quiet sighs and moans filling the air. And each night, the image of Doreah is replaced by himself in his mind. The thought of his khaleesi, writhing underneath him, gasping in pleasure as his hands roam her luscious body, her inner muscles contracting around his cock as his thumb caresses her wet folds, never fails to make his breeches uncomfortably tight and almost always ends with him stroking himself to release.
So what is she doing here now, when she should be with Doreah, learning how to best please her husband? And why does she seem nervous and still hasn't said a word? To break the uncomfortable silence, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Aren't you supposed to be with Doreah, khaleesi?”
“You know about that?” Daenerys asks, apparently very uncomfortable with this line of conversation.
So much for breaking the tension, Jorah thinks, and hastily tries to explain. “Your brother boasted about how much he paid to have someone as skilled as Doreah teach you how to please Khal Drogo. It seemed very important to him that you make your husband happy.”
“I'm sure it is. A happy khal is more likely to give my brother the army he needs to retake the iron throne than one whose wife doesn't know how to please him.”
“I cannot imagine any husband of yours to be unhappy or unsatisfied, my princess.”
Daenerys actually blushes at that, but finally seems to relax, as she moves closer to sit down next to him. She still won’t look at him, though, as she says in a voice so low he almost doesn’t hear her. “Any husband that isn’t Dothraaki.”
“The pain…, forgive me my princess, but did it not get easier?”
“It has, in a way.” She finally looks up at him. “Ser Jorah, you’ve lived with the Dothraaki for a long time. I’m sure you’re familiar with their,” here she falters, a hint of red coloring her cheeks, “their mating habits?”
Now it’s his turn to blush. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Dothraaki’s custom of mounting their women. And how, to make it more pleasurable for themselves, Dothraaki women sometimes mount their men.”
Jorah begins to see where this is going. “And Doreah was teaching you this?”
“She did. She taught me everything she knew. But she said to get it right I'd need a man's perspective. That there are certain aspects of my riding lesson that only a man could teach me.”
“And she sent you to me?” Jorah hopes he doesn't sound as desperate and disbelieving as he feels.
“No. She told me to find someone to ride. And you, my bear, were my first choice. The only one I could see myself riding.” Again she blushes prettily, but keeps her eyes trained on his, her head held high. “That is, if you are willing?”
It's that shy question - almost whispered so he isn't even sure he heard her right - paired with the hopeful, trusting look his princess gives him that breaks him. Although, he muses as he reaches up to stroke her cheek, he probably didn't stand a chance from the moment she entered his tent. His other arm comes up as well so his large hands are cradling her head, and he leans over to kiss his princess in response to her question.
Her lips are warm and soft, and eagerly open under the slight pressure of his, inviting him to languidly explore her mouth with his tongue. Daenerys moans quietly when their tongues meet, eagerly responding to his kiss. Jorah’s hands take a slow path from her face down to her hips to bring her closer to him and he gasps in surprise when Dany takes this as an invitation to straddle him. Never stopping her exploration of his mouth, she makes good use of her new position and slowly grinds herself against his already hard cock, making him think of how exquisite this will feel when there aren't layers of clothes separating them. Then again, Jorah muses, even now he could die a happy man, having experienced the indescribable feeling of Daenerys Targaryen writhing in his lap, her tongue in his mouth.
Although, soon just kissing her isn't enough and Jorah's hands start to wander from her waist up to her breasts, cupping, feeling, his fingers teasing her nipples. Needing to not only feel her but taste her as well, he reluctantly breaks their kiss to trail his lips along her neck, nibbling and tasting her, and further down until he is sucking her breasts through her thin night shift, her nipples hardening even further underneath his tongue. Apparently, Dany enjoys this as much as he does and wants to feel his mouth on her skin without a silken barrier between them, for her hands move from clutching Jorah's back to the hem of her gown, raising it above her head, rendering her completely naked.
Jorah goes still at the sight before him. Daenerys, his princess, is even more beautiful than he imagined. Utterly enthralled, he slowly, softly, almost reverently trails his fingers over the skin exposed to him, taking it all in, committing it to memory. The light swell of her abdomen, her buttocks, firm from days and days of riding horses, the dip of her waist, and her small, perfect breasts, pink nipples hardened to rosy peaks. He can't help the words tumbling from his lips.
“You are beautiful.”
Dany draws in a shuddering breath at his confession, gifting him with a shy yet radiant smile that makes him think she hasn't heard these words spoken to her a lot of times in her life. Before he has time to mourn her lack of a sheltered childhood, her hands move to his tunic, quickly divesting him of the garment. Her fingers do a brief tour of his chest, paying special attention to his chest hair, before moving down to his stomach and the fastening of his breeches. Jorah lies back on his arms, raising his hips to aid her in removing this last piece of clothing.
Now that they're both naked, she sits back on his thighs and takes the time to really look at him. Try as he might, Jorah can't help but feel a little self-conscious under Daenerys' gaze. Her husband is a mighty Dothraaki khal, many years younger than him, but his khaleesi doesn't seem to find fault in his body, if her reaching out for his cock and slowly stroking him is any indication. He gasps in pleasure, unable to stop from moving his hips in time with her strokes. He wants her desperately, needs to be inside her, and if he is to teach her how to ride him, she really needs to stop touching him, lest he finish inside her hand.
“Daenerys”, he tries to warn her of his predicament, not certain he can form a coherent sentence containing more than her name. His focus, his entire world, has narrowed to his tent, to the woman sitting astride him, to the feeling of her hands on his cock, to the feeling of her wetness on his thighs, to the sight of her naked body. She takes mercy on him, and stops the movement of her hand, leaving him feeling oddly bereft, if it weren't for the sight of her raising herself up on her knees and moving up to place herself directly above him, his cock nudging her entrance. She looks up at him, then, searching his eyes. He reaches up to cradle her cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking her lips, and tries to convey to her how much this means to him; that she chose him, had enough trust and confidence in him to teach her this very private lesson. She seems to understand, for her lips curl up in a slow, gentle smile and she sinks down onto him.
When he is completely ensheathed by her warmth, Daenerys stills for which Jorah is immensely grateful, because all his attention is focused on not spending himself inside her this very instant. It is the combination of seeing his dreams played out in reality, his khaleesi sitting astride him, pleasure written all over her face, the warm tightness of her walls enveloping him, and the fact that it has been a very long time since he has last lain with a woman that has him on the edge of finishing. Only when he sees Daenerys reach for his hands does he notice that he is clutching his sleeping mat. She carefully untangles his fingers, lifts his hands one after the other, softly kissing his palms, and placing them on her hips, as she tentatively starts to move above him.
Doreah is a really good teacher, are the last coherent thoughts on Jorah's mind, as he gives himself over to the pleasure of being mounted, lightly guiding her with his hands. He wants to take this slow, to make sure she enjoys it as much as he does, but as soon as Dany's movements start to become more confident, he meets her thrust for thrust. The urge to flip her over, to take control of their coupling, to pound into her, again and again, is so strong, but he fights it. This isn't about him. This is about Daenerys and about showing her how pleasurable riding a man can be. And if the expression on her face and the quiet gasps she can't suppress are any indication, she is enjoying this as much as he is. She is speeding up her movements, desperate to finish, and Jorah lifts his head to kiss her. As she leans down to meet him, he holds onto her hips, not wanting her to stop, angling his hips to drive his cock even further into her welcoming depths and Dany cries out in pleasure. He moves his hand from her hip to her mound, his thumb stroking her sensitive spot. A loud gasp and his name tumble from her lips, before she surrenders to pleasure, her head thrown back, and she comes undone around him. Jorah rides out her pleasure with her, tries to prolong it, but it is all too much. Hearing his name on her lips in her moment of bliss, feeling her inner muscles contract around his cock, and with sharp cry and one last thrust of his hips, he lets himself fall.
When he is capable of rational thought once again, and his breathing and heart rate have slowed, Jorah finds himself languidly caressing Dany's back, who is sprawled out on his chest, his now flaccid cock still inside her.
“I hope you enjoyed your riding lesson.”
She lifts her head from his chest, impishly grinning up at him.
“I did, my sweet Ser. Although, I'm not sure I've mastered the art of riding quite yet. Maybe we should continue my lessons?”
Jorah laughs as leans up to kiss her. “I serve at the pleasure of my princess.”
Author: phoenikxs
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Dany/Jorah
Rating: R
Word Count: 1952
Summary: There are some things even Doreah can’t teach Dany.
Author's Note: Written for the game of ships porn battle and the prompt "riding lessons".
Jorah sits up in surprise at the sight of Daenerys entering his tent. It's not the first time she has been in here, not by a long shot. Ever since he presented her with Westerosi books as a wedding gift, her presence in his tent, asking questions about their common home, has become an almost nightly routine. The reason he is surprised to see her right now is because he knows that this hour of the night is reserved for her lessons with Doreah. He usually spends this time thinking about what might be on the lesson plan that night. Imagining Daenerys and Doreah, their soft lips caressing one another, warm hands gliding over naked bodies, exploring, learning, quiet sighs and moans filling the air. And each night, the image of Doreah is replaced by himself in his mind. The thought of his khaleesi, writhing underneath him, gasping in pleasure as his hands roam her luscious body, her inner muscles contracting around his cock as his thumb caresses her wet folds, never fails to make his breeches uncomfortably tight and almost always ends with him stroking himself to release.
So what is she doing here now, when she should be with Doreah, learning how to best please her husband? And why does she seem nervous and still hasn't said a word? To break the uncomfortable silence, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Aren't you supposed to be with Doreah, khaleesi?”
“You know about that?” Daenerys asks, apparently very uncomfortable with this line of conversation.
So much for breaking the tension, Jorah thinks, and hastily tries to explain. “Your brother boasted about how much he paid to have someone as skilled as Doreah teach you how to please Khal Drogo. It seemed very important to him that you make your husband happy.”
“I'm sure it is. A happy khal is more likely to give my brother the army he needs to retake the iron throne than one whose wife doesn't know how to please him.”
“I cannot imagine any husband of yours to be unhappy or unsatisfied, my princess.”
Daenerys actually blushes at that, but finally seems to relax, as she moves closer to sit down next to him. She still won’t look at him, though, as she says in a voice so low he almost doesn’t hear her. “Any husband that isn’t Dothraaki.”
“The pain…, forgive me my princess, but did it not get easier?”
“It has, in a way.” She finally looks up at him. “Ser Jorah, you’ve lived with the Dothraaki for a long time. I’m sure you’re familiar with their,” here she falters, a hint of red coloring her cheeks, “their mating habits?”
Now it’s his turn to blush. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Dothraaki’s custom of mounting their women. And how, to make it more pleasurable for themselves, Dothraaki women sometimes mount their men.”
Jorah begins to see where this is going. “And Doreah was teaching you this?”
“She did. She taught me everything she knew. But she said to get it right I'd need a man's perspective. That there are certain aspects of my riding lesson that only a man could teach me.”
“And she sent you to me?” Jorah hopes he doesn't sound as desperate and disbelieving as he feels.
“No. She told me to find someone to ride. And you, my bear, were my first choice. The only one I could see myself riding.” Again she blushes prettily, but keeps her eyes trained on his, her head held high. “That is, if you are willing?”
It's that shy question - almost whispered so he isn't even sure he heard her right - paired with the hopeful, trusting look his princess gives him that breaks him. Although, he muses as he reaches up to stroke her cheek, he probably didn't stand a chance from the moment she entered his tent. His other arm comes up as well so his large hands are cradling her head, and he leans over to kiss his princess in response to her question.
Her lips are warm and soft, and eagerly open under the slight pressure of his, inviting him to languidly explore her mouth with his tongue. Daenerys moans quietly when their tongues meet, eagerly responding to his kiss. Jorah’s hands take a slow path from her face down to her hips to bring her closer to him and he gasps in surprise when Dany takes this as an invitation to straddle him. Never stopping her exploration of his mouth, she makes good use of her new position and slowly grinds herself against his already hard cock, making him think of how exquisite this will feel when there aren't layers of clothes separating them. Then again, Jorah muses, even now he could die a happy man, having experienced the indescribable feeling of Daenerys Targaryen writhing in his lap, her tongue in his mouth.
Although, soon just kissing her isn't enough and Jorah's hands start to wander from her waist up to her breasts, cupping, feeling, his fingers teasing her nipples. Needing to not only feel her but taste her as well, he reluctantly breaks their kiss to trail his lips along her neck, nibbling and tasting her, and further down until he is sucking her breasts through her thin night shift, her nipples hardening even further underneath his tongue. Apparently, Dany enjoys this as much as he does and wants to feel his mouth on her skin without a silken barrier between them, for her hands move from clutching Jorah's back to the hem of her gown, raising it above her head, rendering her completely naked.
Jorah goes still at the sight before him. Daenerys, his princess, is even more beautiful than he imagined. Utterly enthralled, he slowly, softly, almost reverently trails his fingers over the skin exposed to him, taking it all in, committing it to memory. The light swell of her abdomen, her buttocks, firm from days and days of riding horses, the dip of her waist, and her small, perfect breasts, pink nipples hardened to rosy peaks. He can't help the words tumbling from his lips.
“You are beautiful.”
Dany draws in a shuddering breath at his confession, gifting him with a shy yet radiant smile that makes him think she hasn't heard these words spoken to her a lot of times in her life. Before he has time to mourn her lack of a sheltered childhood, her hands move to his tunic, quickly divesting him of the garment. Her fingers do a brief tour of his chest, paying special attention to his chest hair, before moving down to his stomach and the fastening of his breeches. Jorah lies back on his arms, raising his hips to aid her in removing this last piece of clothing.
Now that they're both naked, she sits back on his thighs and takes the time to really look at him. Try as he might, Jorah can't help but feel a little self-conscious under Daenerys' gaze. Her husband is a mighty Dothraaki khal, many years younger than him, but his khaleesi doesn't seem to find fault in his body, if her reaching out for his cock and slowly stroking him is any indication. He gasps in pleasure, unable to stop from moving his hips in time with her strokes. He wants her desperately, needs to be inside her, and if he is to teach her how to ride him, she really needs to stop touching him, lest he finish inside her hand.
“Daenerys”, he tries to warn her of his predicament, not certain he can form a coherent sentence containing more than her name. His focus, his entire world, has narrowed to his tent, to the woman sitting astride him, to the feeling of her hands on his cock, to the feeling of her wetness on his thighs, to the sight of her naked body. She takes mercy on him, and stops the movement of her hand, leaving him feeling oddly bereft, if it weren't for the sight of her raising herself up on her knees and moving up to place herself directly above him, his cock nudging her entrance. She looks up at him, then, searching his eyes. He reaches up to cradle her cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking her lips, and tries to convey to her how much this means to him; that she chose him, had enough trust and confidence in him to teach her this very private lesson. She seems to understand, for her lips curl up in a slow, gentle smile and she sinks down onto him.
When he is completely ensheathed by her warmth, Daenerys stills for which Jorah is immensely grateful, because all his attention is focused on not spending himself inside her this very instant. It is the combination of seeing his dreams played out in reality, his khaleesi sitting astride him, pleasure written all over her face, the warm tightness of her walls enveloping him, and the fact that it has been a very long time since he has last lain with a woman that has him on the edge of finishing. Only when he sees Daenerys reach for his hands does he notice that he is clutching his sleeping mat. She carefully untangles his fingers, lifts his hands one after the other, softly kissing his palms, and placing them on her hips, as she tentatively starts to move above him.
Doreah is a really good teacher, are the last coherent thoughts on Jorah's mind, as he gives himself over to the pleasure of being mounted, lightly guiding her with his hands. He wants to take this slow, to make sure she enjoys it as much as he does, but as soon as Dany's movements start to become more confident, he meets her thrust for thrust. The urge to flip her over, to take control of their coupling, to pound into her, again and again, is so strong, but he fights it. This isn't about him. This is about Daenerys and about showing her how pleasurable riding a man can be. And if the expression on her face and the quiet gasps she can't suppress are any indication, she is enjoying this as much as he is. She is speeding up her movements, desperate to finish, and Jorah lifts his head to kiss her. As she leans down to meet him, he holds onto her hips, not wanting her to stop, angling his hips to drive his cock even further into her welcoming depths and Dany cries out in pleasure. He moves his hand from her hip to her mound, his thumb stroking her sensitive spot. A loud gasp and his name tumble from her lips, before she surrenders to pleasure, her head thrown back, and she comes undone around him. Jorah rides out her pleasure with her, tries to prolong it, but it is all too much. Hearing his name on her lips in her moment of bliss, feeling her inner muscles contract around his cock, and with sharp cry and one last thrust of his hips, he lets himself fall.
When he is capable of rational thought once again, and his breathing and heart rate have slowed, Jorah finds himself languidly caressing Dany's back, who is sprawled out on his chest, his now flaccid cock still inside her.
“I hope you enjoyed your riding lesson.”
She lifts her head from his chest, impishly grinning up at him.
“I did, my sweet Ser. Although, I'm not sure I've mastered the art of riding quite yet. Maybe we should continue my lessons?”
Jorah laughs as leans up to kiss her. “I serve at the pleasure of my princess.”