( If speaking to any other prince of the realm, it would be foolish to mention the other men in the castle. After all, to a dragon what is a mere mortal man? But Jacaerys frowns slightly as he thinks of those in the castle tempted, those pulled from their duties because he cannot control his scent as well as he ought. It strikes a nerve; the right nerve.
And the prince curses under his breath, a pout on his lips that he does not realise has taken shape. Logic remains still within his grasp, though it floats away ever slowly as the waves of his heat crash against his shores and wash away all else that could remain. He wonders what he smells like, then, to Hawkins. Baela has always described his smell as warmth, as a familiar hearth and shelter from a storm. Until his anger flares, that is, and the fire rages in his scent. In a heat, he wonders how it changes. And if to an Alpha who is at best a distant cousin if rumors are to be trusted, it smells differently than someone of Valyrian blood.
Hawkins smells tempting as ever and Jace grows more and more aware of the sweat on his brow, the clove that clings to him like smoke from herbs smoked. He does not realise that he's moved around the table until his knees feel weak and he leans back against it, steadying himself as his hands grip the edges of the wood. )
An island? ( he asks, dumbly. ) You mean for me to fly like this?
( he does not realise at that moment that he's given in, conceded that Hawkins is right and they must leave Dragonstone before the pull of his scent is too much. But Jacaerys is not sure that he can fly in this state, is sure that Vermax would not listen to his orders to take to the skies if there was not a better prize than misery at the end.
And then-- then he realises, stands straighter again and hopes that he looks more prince-like than he feels with his stomach tight with cramps, with a dampness starting to make itself known between his legs. ) Her Grace bid you to keep me safe by any means, Ser Strong. To take me through the castle like this would be just as unwise as staying here.
( he takes a step closer, ) To clear my mind and so Vermax may fly us, I need an Alpha's help.
(Help me, help me, havemehavemehavemehaveme, his pheromones scream in ways that the little prince cannot put to words but knows he will surely beg if he must suffer the worst of it alone. All other heats have not wrecked him so, have not come on so quickly. Perhaps because Vermax had not been alone those other times, desperate as he is and feeding his desperation into Jace's mind and body so he sways forward until one palm lands on the cool armor of Hawk's chest plate.
The metal hides a broad chest beneath it, the Alpha before him the peak of strength and temptation before him. ) You would protect me from the others if they found us here, wouldn't you? If we were surrounded.
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Date: 2025-04-09 03:12 am (UTC)And the prince curses under his breath, a pout on his lips that he does not realise has taken shape. Logic remains still within his grasp, though it floats away ever slowly as the waves of his heat crash against his shores and wash away all else that could remain. He wonders what he smells like, then, to Hawkins. Baela has always described his smell as warmth, as a familiar hearth and shelter from a storm. Until his anger flares, that is, and the fire rages in his scent. In a heat, he wonders how it changes. And if to an Alpha who is at best a distant cousin if rumors are to be trusted, it smells differently than someone of Valyrian blood.
Hawkins smells tempting as ever and Jace grows more and more aware of the sweat on his brow, the clove that clings to him like smoke from herbs smoked. He does not realise that he's moved around the table until his knees feel weak and he leans back against it, steadying himself as his hands grip the edges of the wood. )
An island? ( he asks, dumbly. ) You mean for me to fly like this?
( he does not realise at that moment that he's given in, conceded that Hawkins is right and they must leave Dragonstone before the pull of his scent is too much. But Jacaerys is not sure that he can fly in this state, is sure that Vermax would not listen to his orders to take to the skies if there was not a better prize than misery at the end.
And then-- then he realises, stands straighter again and hopes that he looks more prince-like than he feels with his stomach tight with cramps, with a dampness starting to make itself known between his legs. ) Her Grace bid you to keep me safe by any means, Ser Strong. To take me through the castle like this would be just as unwise as staying here.
( he takes a step closer, ) To clear my mind and so Vermax may fly us, I need an Alpha's help.
( Help me, help me, havemehavemehavemehaveme, his pheromones scream in ways that the little prince cannot put to words but knows he will surely beg if he must suffer the worst of it alone. All other heats have not wrecked him so, have not come on so quickly. Perhaps because Vermax had not been alone those other times, desperate as he is and feeding his desperation into Jace's mind and body so he sways forward until one palm lands on the cool armor of Hawk's chest plate.
The metal hides a broad chest beneath it, the Alpha before him the peak of strength and temptation before him. ) You would protect me from the others if they found us here, wouldn't you? If we were surrounded.