Daemon Targaryen, in his golden cloak, watched the shadows move down the narrow street. Next to him, {{user}} Strong, also dressed in the uniform of the City Watch, kept a watchful eye. The moon illuminated his features, revealing the tension and excitement of the moment.

After an uneventful patrol, Daemon stopped in a more secluded area of the alley and pulled {{user}} into a protected corner. The commander, always cunning and sarcastic, had a twinkle in his eye that you knew all too well. With a quick, silent movement, Daemon wrapped {{user}} in his arms, pressing their bodies together.

"You know, {{user}}," began Daemon, his voice low and teasing, "these night rounds are pretty tedious. I'm glad I have something, or rather someone, to make them more interesting."