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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 5

Body Worship & Dirty Talk with Prince Oberyn Martell

Pairing: Prince Oberyn Martell X F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, insecure reader, mentions of an orgy, use of the nickname little dove, praise kink, Oberyn is sweet & filthy all at once, light spanking, light teasing, oral (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, squirting, throat fucking, p in v sex, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sweet aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Notes: I always seem to get a little carried away when it comes to writing with the prince. I really love writing for him but it is always a challenge. This leans more to the body worship than the dirty talk but both are definitely included. I hope everyone enjoys!! Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton as always!

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The sun had just set, bringing with it a cool breeze that flowed through the open windows and doors of the palace. People bustled about laughing, dancing, drinking themselves silly. You stood against a wall, nursing a drink you barely sipped. You had come to learn that a formal event in Dorne, was just a party. They loved having fun here and it was a nice change to your more conventional homeland.

Your father had relocated your entire family to Dorne, after becoming the official ambassador. You and your father had been the only two excited for the move. You had visited Dorne several times over the years and fallen in love with the culture and people. The Prince you currently watched had absolutely nothing to do with that of course.

Prince Oberyn Martell was probably the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on, and he knew it. He was kind but had an ego, along with many many lovers. Which was why you only watched from a distance and flirted in passing. You knew he would never be interested in someone like you. Someone who wanted just one person to love and cherish them. He also seemed to be drawn to bold, confident people, which you had never been. He spoke to you, flirted back with you even, but he never looked at you the way he looked at his lovers. You watched as he peered up, catching your eyes before you glanced away. When you looked back, he was stalking toward you.

“Hello there little Dove,” his hypnotic voice was low, just for the two of you.

“Hello Prince Oberyn.” You gave him a small smile, your face full of heat from that damn nickname.

“What have I told you before? Just call me Oberyn.”

“And as I’ve said before it’s not correct.”

“It is if I ask it from you.”

He leaned on the wall next, to you peering down at you. You let your eyes rack over him, until you met his eyes again. He wore his usual yellow and gold robe with jewels hanging from his neck and taking up a few of his fingers. You knew he had nothing on underneath and the thought made you squirm slightly. He chuckled, a knowing look on his face.

“Would you like to get out of here little Dove? I’m inviting several other guests to my quarters and I would love for you to join us.”

The question slammed into you and sent your pulse pounding in your ears. He had never asked you to one of his, well, orgies, but now that he had you felt your stomach tie in knots. You couldn’t even process the thought of him seeing you unrobed, much less being in a room full of people, watching as they made love to him, waiting your turn. You downed the rest of your drink, placing it on a tray of a servant who passed you, before standing up straight.

“I’m afraid I must decline. I think I’m going to head to bed. Have a good night Oberyn,” you rushed the words out and before he could reply you turned and fled.

You felt like a complete idiot with the way you just acted, and you know you probably confused the man behind you, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t do that, not in a million years. You quickly made it to your quarters for the evening, and shut the door. You stared at the wood in front of you, your breath coming out quickly, hand still on the handle. You lay your forehead against the door.

“So stupid,” you mumbled.

You stood and shook your head, before turning and looking around. Your parents had another room across the hall. You were pressed to stay over night by the King, due to the festivities running long. You knew your parents were probably long gone in the bottom of a glass, and laughing it up with their friends. You were alone, which most of the time you didn’t mind, but after Oberyn’s request it felt different.

After a moment you began your nightly routine. You bathed and dressed in one of your gowns and a robe. You curled into one of the chairs close to a window, listening to the party still going strong, but it was nothing you couldn’t tune out. You had brought along several books for nights like this. You had a restlessness that wouldn’t ease, so you thought you might as well read.

You lost yourself in the book, letting it completely pull you in, when a knock made you jump. You looked up at the door, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You listened carefully for a moment but the person on the other side didn’t say a word. You stood from your chair, after marking your book, and pulled your robe tight. You turned the knob opening the door and standing on the other side was someone you definitely didn’t expect.

“Oberyn? What are you doing here at this hour?” You cocked your head.

“I wanted to speak with you a moment. May I come in?”

“Of course,” you felt your stomach turn with anxiety as you moved out of the way.

“Are your quarters satisfactory?” He asked as he looked around and then back at you.

“They are but I take it that’s not what you really want to talk about?”

He kept his eyes on you, letting them trace over your figure and you gulped letting your eyes fall away.

“You are right, it is not. I am just quite confused is all.”

You looked back at him. “About what?”

“Why you didn’t want to join me earlier. I thought you had the same thoughts about me, but then you turned me down.”

You studied him for a long moment. You knew it was time to just tell him the truth. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a breath and staring at your fingers that now fiddled with the tie on your robe.

“I just…I do have the same thoughts about you but I did not think you did. I thought you…maybe flirted with me just because you do with everyone else. I am not a confident woman nor do I hold a candle to the lovers you take. The thought of us sleeping together, just us, is bizarre enough to me much less having several others there.”

You took a deep breath and wanted so badly to turn from him, to run away. You blinked realizing there were tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to fall down your now heated cheeks. You heard him step towards you slowly, before his fingers brushed at your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes met his and something else was there that normally wasn’t. You gulped slightly.

“Oh little Dove. How wrong you are. I have so many filthy thoughts about you. It’s quite alright you don’t want to attend my…parties but that’s all you had to say.”

“I…I’m sorry. I guess I should have but I just panicked.” You let out a small chuckle fumbling with your words.

“No apologizing little Dove. I do however want to show you just how beautiful you really are. Make some of those fantasies of mine come true, if you will have me that is.”

You felt breathless at his words. You could not believe what was happening. You couldn’t speak, all you did was nod your head as you searched his eyes.

“Take off your clothes and go lie down on your bed for me,” he spoke, his voice low sending a shiver through you.

You still could not speak, so you gave him a simple nod and walked to your bed. You looked at the surface as if it was foreign, then looked back finding Oberyn’s back was to you. You felt your heart flutter at the fact he was giving you a moment without his piercing eyes on you. With trembling hands you un-tied your robe and let it drop to the floor, before moving the straps to your gown down your arms. The fabric fell to the floor as well and you stepped out of it before climbing on the bed and lying down on your back. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Are you ready little dove?”

“Ye…yes,” your voice trembled and you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself for being so nervous.

You had sat yourself up slightly on a pillow and you watched as Oberyn stalked toward you. He peered over you before licking his lips.

“You are truly so beautiful little Dove. I am going to devour every last inch of you,” his voice was a hush, but loud enough for you to hear, before he stopped next to you.

He brushed the back of his hand down your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

“You can stop me at any moment if you become uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

Oberyn smirked with a chuckle before he stepped back and shrugged off his robe. There he was in all his glory and you had never seen a more beautiful man. He was already hard and the thought you could have done that to him made you blush. He crawled on the bed next to you lying on his side facing you. His fingers pushed at your cheek gently turning your head to face him.

“Let’s start with those beautiful eyes. Greener than emeralds, and I did not think that was possible until after I met you. They are always so piercing and bright, full of curiosity.”

You tried to keep your breathing steady but your heartbeat was pounding and you wondered if he could hear it.

“Now your lips, they are one of my favorite things about you. Such eloquent words come from them and I would love to see them wrapped around my cock. I have always wanted to taste them as well,” he pauses looking at you and you give him a simple nod.

His lips fall to yours and you melt into the bed. He kissed you like no man ever has before and it sends you reeling. You never want him to stop but all too soon he does.

“Just as I suspected,” he let out a sigh before smirking. “You taste divine little Dove.”

He lets his fingers brush across your lips before they move up into your hair.

“Such beautiful hair that shines in the sun, a neck so perfect, worthy of my lips.”

He dips his head and you let your head go back as his lips attach to your skin. He kisses round your neck making you gasp and moan softly. He even leaves you a small mark to remember him by, not that you could forget.

“Now we move to one of my favorite parts of you little Dove. Those beautiful breasts. So full and perfect. Your nipples are already hard for me,” he looks up and smirks like the prince he is.

He sits up and takes a breast in each of his hands and he kneads them with a perfect amount of pressure, causing you to let out a loud moan. Gasping at the feeling as he grabs at your nipples, clamping his fingers hard around the buds and pulling. Your eyes going wide as you look at him. He smirks as he releases them and they bounce. Then he dips his head and attacks one nipple with his lips while the other is rolled between his fingers.

You let out a moan and your head goes back. Your fingers fly into his deep brown locks as you push your chest into his face, which earns you a chuckle. He glances up at you before switching his assault until you are panting. You are going to lose your mind if he doesn’t touch you where you really want him soon.

“Mmmm so perfect. Now,” he spreads your legs apart and stations himself between them. “Your stomach always full of laughter.”

He kisses down until he can’t reach any more. You're panting now almost ready to beg him desperately.

“These hips, oh how I love to watch them sway when you walk away from me, along with this perfect ass,” he lifts a leg and give you a slight smack causing you to yelp softly.

“Your arms so long and tan, your legs,” he runs his hands down as much as he can from his position before they come back up and squeeze at your thighs. “How perfect they already are but will look even better wrapped around me.”

“Oberyn please,” you finally let the words tumble from your mouth with a plea.

“Look at you begging for me now. Good thing I am just where you want me most. Am I correct little Dove?”

“Yes. Please,” you whine as you look up at him.

He smirks, clearly pleased with himself and the success of his plan.

“Now I am going to make sure this entire palace knows who is fucking you. I am going to make you beg me to stop. This beautiful pussy, I knew would be my favorite spot of yours. So perfect and opening for me, already dripping wet at my words.”

You looked down at him over your heaving chest and bucked your hips slightly. His hands answered, laying flat on your hips and keeping you pinned before he gives you a glare.

“Careful little dove, I am never past punishing you if I must.”

You gulped and have him a simple nod of understanding. Then he dove into you. You moaned loudly your back arching and your hands flying to his hair once again. He ate you like a man starved and you were writhing in seconds. His strength kept you from moving a muscle from your hips down. He kept going for a moment before sucking your clit and releasing. You whimpered but he was only gone a moment, before he plunged two fingers inside of your soaking wet entrance.

“Look at you, such a mess for me little Dove. I really have an effect on you do I not? Listen to this pussy how wet it is. I wonder just how many times I can make you cum.”

You moaned in answer, unable to form words. He sped his fingers up, fingering you at an unbelievable speed, and without a single warning you threw your head back and let out a moan so loud it was almost a scream. You tumbled over the edge quickly, a blinding white light taking your vision for several moments as you completely lost yourself in your first orgasm. You came back slowly panting, reality coming back to you in pieces. Oberyn sat there smirking like the devil himself.

“You are secretly a dirty girl little Dove. Look what you have done,” he reached behind you pulling you up gently by the back of your neck.,

You looked between your legs seeing that there was a large wet spot there and you looked up at him.

“What did I…” you panted unable to finish.

“It is a very neat trick only few women can do. It was incredibly provocative little Dove.”

You laid back panting, your hand coming to your forehead as you tried to catch your breath.

“I hope you are not tired yet little Dove, because I am very far from being finished with you.”

You watched as he stood and came back around to your left.

“Open up little dove let me see those beautiful lips wrapped around me.”

You turned and did as you were told, opening wide for him. You looked up seeing his eyes already on you watching your every move. You sat up slightly to give yourself a better advantage and started to take him down your throat. He let out a groan, one hand lacing through your hair and the other reaching down to pinch at your nipples. You let out a moan around his cock, which made him moan as well. His hand traced down your stomach and he started to make slow, lazy circles on your clit.

You took all of him you could, letting your hand caress the rest, but Oberyn slowly started to thrust into your mouth. Finally he stopped rubbing your clit just as you were teetering on your high, and moved your hand away from his cock. He fisted your hair in both hands and started to fuck your throat. You looked up at him in slight shock your eyes filling with tears as he pushed you past what you thought was your limit.

“Oh little Dove this mouth feels so good, but I really want to cum in another hole.”

He pulled you away quickly, leaving you gasping for breath, saliva and precum dripping down your chin and he pulled you by your ankles to the end of the bed. Before you could even make sense of what was happening he was slamming into you to the hilt. Your head flew back your mouth gaping and you let out a scream.

“Yes little Dove, let everyone know how I am making you feel,” Oberyn moaned.

The he pulled all the way out and slammed back in. Your body tensed as you sat up on your elbows and you looked up at him with desperation. Before you could utter a word he started to fuck you at a rapid pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you let your head fall back, your chest pushed out more slightly. Oberyn reached out taking your sensitive nipples between his fingers and pinching.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned out with a whine, the pain and pleasuring mixing wonderfully.

“You take me so well little Dove. I believe you have the most delightfully pussy in the world.”

“Your…your cock…feels so…so good,” you moaned with broken words, shocked you were able to find those few in your brain.

Oberyn pulled on your nipples and you followed trying to keep the pain from being too much. When you sat almost all the way up, Oberyn never stopped as he laid you both down on the bed. He had you wrapped in his arms completely, tears were falling down your cheeks at this point and your body was shaking. You looked up into his eyes as his forehead pressed to yours.

“Keep those beautiful green eyes open for me little Dove, and cum.”

It was an order you followed as you fell from the edge once again. You clawed at him, clinging to him in every single way you could. You tried to keep your eyes open but failed as you moaned out, your head going back and your eyes closing. It was the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced and Oberyn never let up. He pushed you through it and just before you thought you would have to beg him to stop, he stilled deep inside of you and emptied himself. He groaned loudly and buried his face in your neck taking your scent in and enjoying the bliss after hitting your highs.

You panted and melted into the bed completely spent. Oberyn pulled from you and laid next to you for a few moments before he was climbing out of bed. You felt your heart break slightly as you turned to watch him.

“Gone so soon?” Your voice was horse and full of disappointment.

“Oh I’m not going anywhere little Dove. I’m just going to get something to clean you up with,” he bent and kissed your forehead before you watched him walk into the bathing room.

You laid there while you waited and smiled for a short moment like a mad woman. You had never in a million years thought what just happened ever would, and now that it had you never wanted to leave the man’s side. He returned ,cleaning you up which made you whimper as he shushed you gently. He climbed back in bed next to you and pulled you to him. His fingers brushed through your hair, before making patterns on your bare back.

“What happens now?” You finally asked after several moments of silence.

You were afraid to look up at him, afraid of his answer. He was silent for a moment before his other hand brushed at your chin.

“I am truly not sure little Dove. I would love to continue this.”

“Then let us do that and we will figure it out as we go.” You looked up at him with a soft smile.

“That my little Dove sounds perfect to me.”

You smiled at the slight change to the nickname and you wondered what would be in store for you and Oberyn.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @thisis-theway @ohpedromypedro @fioccodineveautunnale @spookyold-saintjm @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @littlevodka @all-hallows-evie @audreyshepbvrn @mack4676 @perropascal

#agentwhiskeysdarlinkinktober #oberyn martell #pedro pascal #prince oberyn #prince oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x female reader

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

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Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade.

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred.

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king.

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign.

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king.

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?”

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound.

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way.

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy.

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now.

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern.

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs.

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison.

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication.

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist.

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t.

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered.

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….”

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting.

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress.

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly.

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you.

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home.

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment.

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing.

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.”

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other.

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around.

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward.

“Oberyn-”

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….”

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you.

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs.

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist.

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic.

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason.

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation.

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort.

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’.

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold.

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him.

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you.

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover.

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen.

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it.

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement.

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you.

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you.

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

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#oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 14

Day Thirteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Fifteen

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Prostitution/sex work; canon-typical sex work; dirty talk; sub Oberyn Martell; hair pulling; restraints; orgasm control/denial; masturbation; breeding kink; oral sex; gag use; unsafe sex; creampie

Your prince coming to visit was no great surprise, but his countenance was. You gladly leaned into his lusty kiss, thrilled as he grasped at your flesh through your scant clothing. But when you drew back and searched his expression, you felt that something had changed. Your brow furrowed, and you raised a hand, smoothing gently along his cheek.

“What is it?” You murmured. He sighed through his nose, fingers flexing against your skin.

“I need something…New,” He admitted warily, “Something different.”

You tipped your head to the side, brow furrowing.

“My prince…You’re the most prolific lover in the Seven Kingdoms,” You shook your head, chuckling. “What have you not tried?”

The heat in Oberyn’s gaze made your flesh break out in goosebumps. He was a sight, bare and restrained, his wrists bound by satin, keeping him tied to one of the bed posts. His hard cock bobbed between his strong thighs, his grunts of eagerness and irritation hampered by the cloth tucked between his teeth. He drew in a ragged breath through his nose, his eyes skating over your body as you fucked your fingers even deeper into your slick pussy. You made a show of rolling your hips into your touch, giving an exaggerated, breathy sigh, then another, truer one as your palm brushed your clit.

“Do you want to join me?” You goaded. “Would you like to touch—?”

You didn’t even have the chance to finish your question before Oberyn groaned, his muscles straining as he pulled against the cloth. You shivered, smiling villainously as you shook your head, tutting at his eagerness. You had gone out on a limb when you’d proposed this change, giving the prince something other than what he was used to—getting his way. You were certain that as soon as he was released from the cloth, he would hold you down and fuck you like a mad man, but until then, you delighted in the clear, vicious lust that he watched you with.

You slipped your fingers from your pussy and got onto your hands and knees, crawling toward him. He slowed his struggling, his chest heaving as you grew closer. You reached up, trailing one of your slick fingers along the underside of his cock, and grinning when his hips twitched forward, seeking out your touch. You curled your fingers around his thick length, watching Oberyn’s eyes flutter, then slip closed. You gave him a few light strokes before you let go, sitting up. Oberyn watched you with wide eyes, groaning lowly as you climbed onto his lap.

You rolled your hips slowly, focusing in on the feeling of his cock sliding between your plump, soaked folds. His breathing ticked up, heavy breaths drawn in and out. You watched his teeth grind around the gag, his jaw clenching as you ground down against him.

“You’re perfect like this,” You sighed, gently grasping his chin. “With that mouth of yours taken care of. You should always be like this—” Your hand slid around to roughly grasp the hair at his nape and yank his head back as you sank down on his cock. “Tied down and ready for me, like a good little toy.”

Oberyn’s eyes rolled back into his head, tipping back into your touch as you took in more of his length. You smoothed your hands over his arms, squeezing and caressing the muscles, and smiling as his hands flexed and grasped at the cloth holding him back. You slipped your tongue across his lips, teasing it against the fabric of the gag before giving his lower lip a tender tug with your teeth. You rode him at a leisurely pace, chasing your own pleasure with no thought of his. You felt his chest brushing yours with each pass, felt the rise and fall of each heady breath. You rested your forehead against his, using your grip on his arms to lever yourself up and down.

“Do you want to cum, my prince?” You goaded softly, “Tucked deep in my cunt? Sire another bastard?”

Oberyn’s mouth fell open, a barely intelligible plea pushing past the gag. You smiled, shaking your head a little.

“You’re not to cum until I tell you to.”

You felt Oberyn’s head shift against yours, and turning your head, found him eyeing your defiantly. You chuckled, shaking your head again as you lightly tapping a nail against his jaw.

“If you do, not only will you have to clean up your mess, but you’ll have no others until the sun rises.” You curled your hand around his jaw again, focusing his blearing eyes on you. “Your pleasure belongs to me now.”

Oberyn shuddered, and before you could stop him, you felt his hips shiver beneath yours. You gasped softly as you felt his cock twitch and spill into you. You let out a breathless laugh, reaching down and tweaking one of his nipples in retribution before lifting off of his cock. Oberyn let out a cry like a wounded pup as you pulled away, his cock still jerking between his thighs. You stood on the bed, raising a hand to grasp the tall bedpost and lowering the other to tug the gag out from between Oberyn’s teeth. You couldn’t get a word out before Oberyn was pushing up to lick hungrily at your pussy. You gasped at the sudden heat, the snuffling eagerness and growls as you grind down against his face. You looked down, finding his fingers slack around the cloth as he honed in on your pleasure.

You gently untied the cloth from Oberyn’s wrists as he panted, his spend spread across his stomach. He watched you wondrously, his breathing calming as you took in the state of him.

You turned his forearm this way and that, eyeing the reddened and angry patches of skin where he’d pulled against his restraints.

“We ought to soak these,” You warned softly. “And air them to keep from chafing the skin any more.” You stood from the bed, glancing toward the window, at where the sun was beginning to light the streets of Dorne. You could hear chatter in the streets before—the clopping of horse hooves, the calls of good morning, the jeers directed at men that were just stumbling out of the brothel. You turned to your bedside table, taking up an abandoned goblet of wine and walking back to the bed. You watched Oberyn push himself up to meet you, taking the goblet and drinking from it thirstily as you sat beside him. You watched him, smiling as he lowered it again.

“We should clean up.”

“Mm,” He nodded, sliding his hand over your quivering thigh. “Lay with me a moment first,”

You settled down on the bed with him, nuzzling his shoulder and eyeing the cooling cum on his belly. He curled his arm around your middle, tugging you closer.

“What duties do you have to attend to today?” You asked.

“None…Save for staying in bed with you,” His lips brushed your forehead.

“Oberyn,” You chuckled softly. “All day?”

“We’ll clean and rest first, but I plan to wring every bit of pleasure from you in every way that I know how.”

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Tried to tag, but tumblr didn't seem to let me? @nerdieforpedro

#Oberyn Martell x Reader #Oberyn Martell x You #Oberyn Martell/Reader #Oberyn Martell/You #Oberyn Martell fic #Oberyn Martell imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

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deadhumourist · 1 year

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Rescue

Summary: Oberyn brings back what belongs to him. Little comfort ficlet.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell X GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of violence and discomfort, use of "little one" as nickname, no pronouns used, no physical description of reader.

A/N: This is a little dip into writing a new character so it won't be perfect. Oberyn is almost always associated with seggsy times so I thought it could be interesting to put him in a protector role. Microficlet - around 650 words . Thank you @just-here-for-the-moment for the read.

Masterlist

-----

You wake up. The ground is hard and compacted and it takes time to get upright, your elbows digging without much give into the soil below. A chill has sunk deep into your flesh, many hours of exposure making you icy to the touch.

Grey light floods straight down like a dull halo on a dirty, fallen deity. It burns your newly opened eyes anyway. Vision suddenly swimming again, you lie back down and get folded into the darkness.

Until a warm hand grips your wrist and you feel your body lift.

When you wake up again, the first sensation that drags through the thick cloud of your mind is softness. Warm, brushed fleece against your skin and the comforting weight of arms wrapped firmly around you. You’re securely nestled against a broad chest when your eyes flicker open, the muted yellow silk almost covering your field of vision. Worry makes the brown eyes looking down at you inky.

He sees you draw breath to speak and he reaches down and gently cups your cheek.

“Quiet, little one. You are safe.”

And then, looking up, the words seething from his lips like smoke as he focuses on the middle distance.

“They can never hurt you again.”

You’re too tired to ask, but your eyebrows lift to him.

He looks down at you like he’s considering staying silent.

“A poison-laced dagger has pierced each hand that was laid upon you. Nailed to the trees they will wait for death - I am not merciful to those who take from me.”

You shudder in his arms. His eyes soften as they meet yours again.

“I wish you were not a witness to the cruelty of this world, my love.”

He presses you closer to him, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in the week since you disappeared.

"We are a day away from Dorne, and I will make sure that pleasure and comfort wipes away every trace of fear once we are back. That is a promise."

You drift away to the feeling of the slow rise and fall of Oberyn's chest under your cheek. You're safe.

#oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #game of thrones #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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mybworlds · 1 month

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Chapter 1: The Mermaid of The Narrow Sea

Title: The Mermaid of the Narrow Sea Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: Essos. You are a slave since you were a little girl. One day you are sold to a mysterious man who could be your only chance to escape and be free.

Masterlist Rating: M Series Warnings: Age gap, slavery, violence, blood, death, alcohol use, slow burn, sexism, smut, dom/sub dynamics, rape attempts Extra warnings: there's a vicious brother (oc), Ellaria is a jealous woman in this story.

Before to start... my idea is to twist Oberyn's biography a little bit and intertwine it with the main character's story and what happens in Westeros in the next chapters, so I'm not sure what will come of it. I hope you like this my (new) story.

This is my second story in the Game of Thrones universe, the other is a SanSan, you can find it in my masterlist, I'm a lil afraid to write about Prince Oberyn 'cause I know he's very loved, who doesn't? ;) If you want let me know what you think about.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thanks for the dividers @idontgetanysleep

Fire warms your sun-ruined skin, your hair is a shapeless tangled heap, you wear a tunic too small for your body, it's a woman's body now, not a child's.

Your eyes are likened to burning embers especially when you get angry or challenge even with your gaze your masters. You are a slave. You've been a slave since you were a child. Your mother had been captured when you weren't even five, and since then you along with other men, women and slavers have done nothing but roam the eastern continent.

You are a beautiful young woman, your proud look and posture stand out though you are only a slave. For these your qualities, you are called the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea.

People who had enslaved your mother move from place to place, from inland to the shores of the Narrow Sea.

That day you are dragged by those bloody people back to the shores, and on that day the wind blows hard shaking the barren lands overlooking the Sea and shaking the hair of everyone there. You and other women are gathered there by the cliff, all are afraid since they all fear what may happen to them, you don't. You watch raptly as the waves crash on the rocks, then you scan the horizon with a wistful look.

"Soon, very soon we'll see what you are made of," hisses one of the men threateningly in your ear who had also tried in the past to take you by force.

"I'm not afraid." you challenge him by turning your gaze toward the man who raises his hand as if to strike you, but then has second thoughts: hitting you would not scratch you, take that look away, or satisfy him.

"Someday, you damn bitch, someone will tame you," he says grudgingly and then walks away.

"When that day comes, I'll be ready," you whisper, but it's more of a reminder to yourself to never give up and never bend no matter what happens.

You promised to yourself this ever since you witnessed the rape and murder of your mother. Your mother was sold to a prince or king in Westeros, out of the goodness of this prince or king, whoever he was, you were bought too. One evening, however, the man showed in your quarters, your mother, probably sensing what was going to happen, immediately made you hide in a closet filled with sacks of grain, bread and other food making you swear not to go out or be heard for any reason in the world.

When the man was there, you witnessed something that no one should ever see: your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who loved you, the woman you always saw as your rock, slapped and thrown to the ground and then her screams overpowered by the man's obscene sounds and words.

You closed your eyes and plugged your ears tightly, almost unable to hear after so much you pressed your palms over your ears. When you dared to open your eyes again, you saw the man's sword rise and fall on your mother's neck and blood gushing copiously on the floor, on her clothes and on the man's sword. Your mother choked in her own blood as the man wiped his sword back against the woman's now blood-soaked dress.

When you were able to come out of your hiding place, you found your mother with her eyes wide open in an expression of pure terror painted on her face, from then on you swore to yourself that no one, ever, would touch you, neither a slave nor a merchant nor a king nor a prince.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea, gentlemen." you are introduced by a plump man who sells women for a good price in exchange for wine, silk and spices "Beautiful as you can see, she will be able to satisfy your every fantasy, she is an obedient girl who knows her place."

You stare grimly and hard at all the men who stare at you as if you were an animal for slaughter. You see some talking excitedly, others licking their lips as if you were a tasty exotic dish to be put on the table.

"More than Mermaid seems to me to be ready to rip our throats out," someone comments, provoking general hilarity.

"I kill those who provoke me only," you reply venomously bringing down general silence, slaves don't speak, someone hits you from behind causing you to fall to your knees. The men laugh, but this doesn't make you lose your resolve or your hard stare.

You quickly get back on your feet.

People whisper, the plump man tries to sell you in every way, but no one buys you. One of the slavers pulls you away, when you are in a separate place he ties your hands and feet with a very heavy chain, "I should rip that damned tongue out of you!" the man threatens you and then kicks you in the side and walks away. In front of him you didn't react to that gesture, but now that you're alone you squeeze your eyes and moan in pain, you want to see what he did to you, but you can't.

You hide your head between your legs, you don't cry, you never cry, there is no point in crying, you just have to hold on. The day will come when you will be free and you can get rid of these heavy chains.

The next day someone wakes you up with the usual indelicacy and brutality, they release you from the chains and pull you by the arm, "Move, the market has ended and you're staying with us this time too." you don't know if there is disappointment in his tone of voice or what, for you for sure it'll be another terrible trip. You don't know where you will go, but they certainly won't treat you well, they never have. They are not going to start today.

All of you slaves - mostly women - are chained by the wrists, lined up in a row to each other, your slavers are on horseback, only a couple of them on foot and they are there to poke and prod you to walk, not all of you holding their gait. Someone dies under the scorching sun, someone from lack of food and water. Your lips are parched, your eyes burn from the sun and sweat dripping from your forehead, but you don't give up.

Not today.

You keep telling yourself, this is not the day you die.

Slavers stop to unhook the dead bodies and as you others who were further behind are about to stop too, one of the damn ones trips you and part surprise and part lack of food, you fall forward.

"Oh, you've fallen, Mermaid!" he uses that nickname with the tone of someone who wants to taunt you, you look at him angrily "I was hoping you'd be the next to die!" he adds with a venomous grin.

"Instead I'm still here," you say grudgingly, he's about to kick you, but you can't take it anymore, you block the man's foot in midair who falls backward. The anger, the pain, the resentment built up over all those years until now explodes with a force and violence you didn't even think you had: you pounce on the man by sitting on him and start punching him repeatedly in the face, you lose count of how many blows you inflict on him, his face becomes a mask of blood and he screams, screams attract the attention of the other men who grab you by the armpits and pull you away, in pulling you away you kick him in the middle of the legs and making the asshole scream once again.

"Fuck you!" you scream in exasperation.

"Now I'm going to kill that fucking bitch," the man says holding his face and making to get to his feet and reach you, one of his own stands between you and you hear him say "At the next slave market in Meereen we'll get rid of her, you'll see." this doesn't quite convince him because his eyes land on your face still distraught with rage and he tries to reach you again, the second man insists "There someone will heal your wounds and we're going to drink good wine, I know there's a good brothel too, you'll relax and forget about her." maybe this convinces him because he looks at you with less hatred and then he looks at his companion, you see him smile and his interest in you fades.

You can breathe.

"Be careful," a dark-skinned man next to you says, you look at him suspiciously "that guy, Aziz, is a dangerous man," he continues, referring to the man you hit.

"I can take care of myself," you retort looking at him grimly.

He chuckles "I saw, but try to avoid any more shows, you are too young to die." he looks at your face, "I hope that when you are sold because you will be, your master will treat you better than you have lived so far." you lower your head for a moment and find yourself barely bending your lips upward, you have never really smiled, doing is so strange.

The city of Meereen presents itself splendid and imposing to your eyes. It's the largest city you have ever been in up to that point, you walk looking upward and your eyes wide open in wonder although you know why you are there. What strikes you most are massive triangular-shaped structures, they are gigantic, who knows what they are for! You are in a noisy city, deafening almost, everywhere there are people buying and selling, there are goods of all kinds and types, before long it will be your turn again and the poor unfortunate souls like you.

They make you wear a knee-length cream-colored dress, one of the slavers dares to move your hair and you in response bite his hand earning you a slap in the face, it hurts, especially if he has hit you with a hand full of rings, "I sure hope you leave, you insolent fool."

When they have fixed you and made you presentable for sale, you get out of there. You are in chains again and this time you go to a wide open space that is swarming with all kinds of people, from prospective buyers to the merely curious. You keep your head down. Buying and selling is something that has always made you sick and that you have always refused to listen to; you go up on some kind of stage as if you were there to make a spectacle of yourself, you feel a disgust at those pigs selling you and the equally obscene buyers watching you as juicy meat to be put on the table.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea," once again you are introduced this way by a huge man who pulls you by the arm beside him to show you to the audience of shoppers. You stare at the many faces, your head spinning, wishing to be left alone, to escape, but...

"I offer 1,000 copper stars," you hear one man shout, "2,000," shouts a second, you move your eyes from corner to corner, then there is an offer that interrupts all possible bids "10,000 gold dragons," everybody's head turns hearing such a sum. You remain breathless, no one had ever bid that much for someone like you, you try to spot the buyer, but he's wearing a hood therefore it's impossible to tell who he is.

"Sold." decrees the man beside you, you are immediately grabbed by the arm by someone else who hisses grudgingly in your ear "Finally, you damn whore, your time has come, now you will know that we were only docile lambs!"

It's Aziz, you look him in the eyes and with an expression full of disgust you tell him "Finally I've ruined that ugly face of yours, you monster!" he's about to hit you, but he's interrupted once again from another man "Stop it, it's none of our business now, go and collect from the buyer and hand it over to him now, it's none of our business anymore." says the second man barely looking at your face.

You and Aziz exchange one last glance, before he finally - and forever - walks away from you, you will never see him again. You hint a smile.

You are free from his obscene look, his stinking breath, his slimy hands. Free.

Free to go to another cage. The smile disappears again.

You are not free at all, you never will be.

The buyer enters the tent, he still has his hood over his head, and only then does he take it off, he's a man maybe in his fifties, or maybe something more, and then you realize that you can no longer escape the violence that has always marked your life and hollowed out your skin, you can never escape, never.

You are always a prisoner.

"I was just sent to buy you, I'm handing you over to your master's brother," is all the elderly man says to you, you can only nod, you are still a cargo.

The man pulls away the curtain and invites you to follow him, invites? Oh, it would be the first time someone has treated you like a person instead of an animal. You obey, you cannot object. Your hands are still tied and then there are too many people, you want to run away, but not now. Not today.

Just a little further on, there is a palanquin on which the man makes you get on and then he gets on as well. You don't speak, he barely looks at you, you are on alert, you don't know what the man's real intentions are, he might attack you, tempt violence, you don't let him out of your sight. You are ready to snap.

The palanquin stops, the man gets out before you and then helps you down. You are... in front of a brothel, you can't believe it, your master has bought you to make you a whore, your lips tremble and you lower your gaze for a moment, "Come." the man says in a sigh, holding you by the arm, you don't have the strength to resist and at the moment not even the strength to run away, even if you wanted to.

You climb the steps of the building and enter, the room stinks and it's dark. You can hear in the distance the unmistakable sounds and moans of sex, laughter, someone sneaks up totally naked in front of the two of you, you widen your eyes frightened, maybe you should start getting used to it, you will stay there now. Your master probably runs the place, maybe he himself will want to first-- you try to restrain yourself from vomiting at the idea, at the horror of that scene.

You wander between the various rooms until you come to a last room to which the elderly man knocks once, twice, three times with his fist as if it were a signal, someone from inside opens and leaves the door open. The elderly man opens the door completely and lets you in as well, "I have brought what your brother wants, my Prince."

"Hand her over to him don't give her to me," says a bored voice from behind, it's a man, looking out the window, he's rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"My Prince, Prince Mors said to give it to you--"

"To spite me!" he exclaims "He knows how I feel about it, and what does he do? He orders you to bring me a slave he wants! Set her free," he sentences again without looking at you, you widen your eyes, not knowing what to expect.

"My Prince, I'm sorry, but your brother..."

The other man sighs, "I know, but if it were up to me, I would free everyone."

"I understand, my Prince, but without slaves there would be no one left to perform certain tasks and chores," the elder continues.

The two of them keep talking as if you are not there with them, you start to think that maybe if you start walking slowly backwards, maybe... at that moment the younger man turns toward you and you don't really know why, but you almost feel like you've been paralyzed by his piercing gaze: your eyes plant themselves in his, you find yourself swallowing without even knowing why, you can't lower your gaze even though in front of that man's you'd like to, his gaze almost seems to want to burn you inside, it's such a strange feeling, so disturbing, you see his lips stretch upward and then you realize that's the end.

You can't move anymore.

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radiowallet · 1 year

Text

Meant to Be - A GoT Soulmate AU

Complete

Palm to palm; Skin to skin

Two souls twist from within

A true match to your heart, if you choose

It’s a love to gain, never to lose

Summary: Oberyn Martell has spent his life as a second-born prince enjoying all the pleasures that Dorne has to offer, staving off any notion of an arranged marriage under the guise of searching for his soulmate. But after defeating The Mountain and avenging his sister's untimely death, Oberyn returns home to his brother still without a true heir. And so Doran states his plan: To name Oberyn Lord of Sunspear and have him take a wife, soulmates and lovers be damned. So what happens when the fates of Westeros send him an independent and troublesome woman from the north that just happens to fit the title of both bride and soulmate? Which feelings does one bow to? To bend or to break? And what does it truly mean to be meant?

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Unnamed OFC, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Part 1 - The Arrangement

Part 2 - The Engagement

Part 3 - The Attachment

Part 4 - The Development

Part 5 - The Commitment

Epilogue - The Endearment

Extras

Part 2 Gif Set by @pedropascalsx

First Dance by @daddydindjarin

Meant to Be playlist

Inspo Tag

#Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell fic #Oberyn Martell x OFC #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #radiowallet writes

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

I am a desperate little gremlin (who’s brain is refusing to go to sleep for some reason), politely asking for your Oberyn hcs? Or really any GoT hcs?

Thanks for always indulging in my nonsense <3

SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT

I’m sorry for letting this sit in my askbox for so long, my hyperfixations drifted for a while 😭 BUT I’m back on my GoT bullshit (for now) with a few hcs for our favourite prince AND a little something spicy under the cut cuz I’m in a M O O D.

oberyn martell headcanons:

this man is SMART. like…we already know oberyn is well-spoken and witting and cunning (and a little too vengeful but that’s what fix-it fics are for) but he’s a sexy-level of intelligent. and he’s a bookworm!! he reads any and every book he can get his hands on, his head is full of historical facts and timelines and details of battles won and lost. he can recount full summers and winters and when his girls ask for a story late at night, when they can’t sleep, he’s more than happy to spin a tale that’s not far off from the colourful past.

he’s a hopeless romantic. yes, he’s a gigantic flirt and a devil between the sheets and yes, he has you wrapped around his finger in the blink of an eye, but he does it well. we’re talking flowers and gifts and poems delivered to your chambers in the middle of the night. walks through the water gardens and long conversation, not just winning you over with his generosity, but his personality, his admiration, his ambition. he falls for you just as hard as you fall for him.

dorne is beautiful, no denying, and I like to think that the sweet prince has many secret hiding places, mini oasis (oases? the english language is weird) with beautiful gardens he likes to tend to. he could spend hours amongst the greenery, the exotic fruits and the sound of birds. he enjoys the beautiful things, and finds solace wherever he can.

I was gonna say he’s adventurous in bed but….that pretty much goes without saying so I don’t think it counts as an hc 😂 (and see below…😏)

silk - oberyn martell x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: light bondage, teasing, oberyn comes with his own warning, dirty talk, idk what the fuck this is and it’s unedited so HAVE FUN 💕

“Ah, ah, ah,” he purrs, the tip of his nose dragging along the stretch of your inner thigh. “Not yet, my love. You are doing so well for me.”

You can’t help the whine that falls from your lips, hips lifting to chase his slick lips. The ties around your wrists pull taut, the headboard behind you creaking with your movement. You can’t see him, but you can feel him, hands roving around your hips and over your stomach, fingers dancing along your skin as he kisses your skin, nips your flesh between his teeth.

“L-lover,” you stutter out, “Oberyn, please.”

He clucks his tongue at you now, and you can almost see the cat-like grin as he moves higher up the bed, adjusting the numerous pillows and blankets as he goes. His shoulder hooks beneath your knee, spreading you wider, putting you on display.

You’ve been at this for hours.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, from the moment you opened your eyes. Every corner you turned, he was there, a mischievous light in those dark eyes, hands twitching when you brushed past. You teased just as hard as he did, hovering too close when you poured him more wine, swishing your skirts just the right way when he walked by. The look in his gaze had become something more feral, more intimidating, but you were more than happy to play along.

The sun had barely fallen when he’d summoned you to his chambers, the balcony doors wide open to let the warm Dornish air fill the space. The prince stood at the ledge, a glass of wine in his hand, his chest bare, that thick golden chain he favoured dangling from his neck. He held something in his grip as he turned to you, dark coloured fabric that shone in the torchlight. Silk scarves; he’d brought you one back as a gift from his last journey to Essos.

His lips twitched into a grin as the door shut behind you, the lock clicking shut when you sank against the wood. “My prince?”

“Do you trust me, my love?” he called, head cocked to the side. He set the glass of wine down, took the silk between both hands, slipping the fabric between his knuckles, watching it move like water through his fingers. “Would you let me try something we haven’t tried before?”

You weren’t one to deny your prince.

First, he had slipped the silk over your eyes, a loose knot tied at the back of your head, enough to cover your eyes. Once it was fastened, he turned you to face him, palms cupping your shoulders, and leaned in slow. You could feel it, the shift in the air as he came closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then let his mouth drag across the silk, the fabric catching on his lips.

He caught your chin next, a knuckle knocked beneath it, tilting your face up, your head back. “My beauty,” he murmured, thumb rubbing at your bottom lip, spreading your saliva along the pad. “Oh, how I cannot wait to watch you come undone.”

Oberyn laid you out on the bed next, sweeping you into his arms and carrying you across the room. You squealed when he swept you off your feet, clinging to him as he held you, burying your nose in his neck.

“I would not let you fall, my love.”

My love. My beauty. The possessiveness had you keening, even before he’d even started to touch you.

You stretched out as he laid you down, legs shifting beneath the thin skirts of your shift. He moved with you, hovering over you, your arms still latched around his neck, knees knocking wide for his hips to slide between.

He kissed you hard, tongue tasting of wine as it dipped into your mouth. You moaned, and he drank the noise, humming in approval when you buried your fingers in his hair, wrapped the short strands around your knuckles. When your hands moved, trailing down his shoulders, he struck, reaching for your wrists, pulling them away from his body. He held both in one big hand, tugged your arms over your head. You followed his lead, your eyes fluttering against the silk as he rolled his hips into yours as he manoeuvred you, and then you felt it.

More silk, looped around your wrists, pulled just taut enough to keep you in place, keep your hands from roaming his body. You bit back your whine at the notion of not touching him while he tended to you, but it was quickly replaced with another moan as he tugged your shift aside, lowered his mouth to your chest and took your nipple between his teeth.

Slowly, he touched you. Every skim of his fingers was featherlight, every scrape of his teeth just this side of not enough. Wherever his fingers moved, your body reacted, muscles twitching and limbs lifting, trying to get closer, trying to get more.

But he wouldn’t give it.

It was nearly torturous, the way he was dragging out your pleasure. Most nights, he’d bring you to that peak multiple times, pulling noises from your throat you didn’t think yourself capable of. This was different, the way he made you beg, the way your body did it willingly. He dragged you straight up to the edge, then left you there, waited for you to relax, before starting over, back to the beginning, your heart racketing in your chest.

And it’s been hours.

“Oberyn,” you keen, and he brushes the backs of his knuckles against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Every touch makes you twitch, and your spine arches when you feel his hot breath against your hotter core. “Please.”

“So sweet when you beg,” he murmurs, the feeling of his tongue flicking at your clit following a moment later. You gasp. “This pleasure, it feels incredible, does it not? I can see it, just below the surface of your skin. Like a fire, coming to life.” Another lick. “Though, I must admit, I do miss the feeling of your hands on me.”

“Let me—” you start, but you never get the words out completely. He licks at you, groaning into your very depths, every nerve in you sparking to life. Thick fingers spread you open, and even with the blindfold, you can feel his eyes on you, that heavy gaze raking over every inch of your body.

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, giving you another lick, the flat of his tongue a scorching heat that feels like it never ends. “We’re just getting started.”

#oberyn martell #my fics #silk #oberyn martell headcanons #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader

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dorkydilf-l0ver · 4 months

Text

“Pretty little flower~”

Oberyn Martell fic

Word count: 824

A/N: hihihi my lord I have been inactive on this account. My apologies, but I’ve been lacking motivation and ideas… well, until now. So, hope you enjoy :) also, let me know if you would like a part two as the ending is a little suggestive ;}

The party was dull.

You never thought, after accepting an invite to the Head of House Martells party in the Kingdom of Dorne, that you’d be stuck listening to some old crone ramble on about his riches. You feel your eyes begin to droop, yet they snap right open after they make contact with the reason you came to this party in the first place. Standing across the room, gorgeous face lit with expression as he recalls some amusing anecdote to the guests crowed around him, looking as divine as the rumours warned you.

Prince Oberyn Martell.

The Red Viper.

The handsomest man in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

He does a double take as your eyes meet again, and smiles wide, unintentionally showing off his perfect royal teeth. Then he winks, sending a flock of butterflies flying to your stomach. You feel yourself blush ferociously as you smile back, shyly, at the prince.

You declare some stupid excuse to the old man you’re talking to, muttering that you are too warm and need a minute outside. You leave the room and enter a beautiful garden, find a bench and sit down. Exhaling deeply, you need a minute to collect your thoughts. The pretty prince had muddled them up, making you think only about him, his gorgeous face lit up, his dark brown eyes that you could get lost in, and you find yourself imagining what his beautifully toned body would look like under that golden robe that makes him look like a god.

Good lord.

You realise how down bad you are for a man you’ve never even met, only heard about in stories from people glowing with admiration.

“Well, whatever are you doing out here? Sitting in the garden like a little flower while everyone else is at the party?”

You jump, swivel your head to come face to face with the owner of this smooth, attractive, playful, slightly accented voice.

As soon as you make eye contact you leap off the bench in a hurry.

Oberyn Martell. The Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper. Had just caught you sitting by yourself outside a royal party.

This is not the first impression you wanted to make.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. I was just- uhm- I was only- no offence to your brothers party- I just needed some- erm- air.” You stumble pathetically with your words, praying that you aren’t offending the prince with your unwillingness to be present at the royal celebration, your eye contact with him faltering.

He chuckled, smiling at your attempts, and the sound invited back that pesky flock of butterflies back to your stomach.

“Oh my, little flower, are you shy? Is that why you are out here?” He asks, tone not mocking, but playful, like you’re sharing an inside joke as old friends.

“You’re certainly a pretty little flower aren’t you.” The prince moved forward, face now suddenly more serious, inquiring, seeming interested in taking all of you in as his eyes trail from your head to your toes.

Your face glows red at his words, the blush that so easily overtakes you when an attractive person looks in your general direction, made ten times worse as the most attractive man you have ever seen compliments you. “Thank you, sir.” You say. “I must say, you are even more handsome then the rumours let on”

“Rumours?” He asks, eyebrow cocked. “And tell me, what do these rumours say?”

“Only that you are the most handsome man in all of Dorne.” You shrug, gaining confidence as you converse. Oberyn Martell has turned out to be a very easy person to talk to. “However, I believe these rumours are wrong. You have proven to be the most gorgeous person in all of the Seven Kingdoms.”

His eyes widened in surprise and he smirked at your flirting. “Is that so?” He began to move closer, closing the distance between you, the butterflies moving at max speed in your tummy as he placed a hand on your waist. “Well, it appears that the rumours are wrong.” He leans in, lips to your ear as he whispers. “You, little flower, are the most gorgeous person I have ever seen.”

You gasp at his bold statement, giggling slightly in disbelief. He notices your doubt, cupping your face in his hand. “Seriously, it as if the god’s sculptured you in a way that would make you perfect to me…” He breaks off, lost in a thought. “Tell me, how long are you intending on staying at this party?”

“Well, before you came out here, I was planning on requesting a carriage to take me to my lodgings, but now I believe I will be staying a little longer.” You declare, as your eyes involuntarily flit down to his lips.

He notices you staring, smiles, and moves closer, your lips nearly touching, and it takes all your free will to not close the gap. His hands move up your body as he asks:

“Pretty little flower, would you perhaps~ stay the night?”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #game of thrones #gender neutral reader #pedro pascal #prince oberyn #the red viper #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #game of thrones season 4 #prince of Dorne #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal x you

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 6 months

Text

Aphelion - 11

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

*Please be sure to consider all chapter warnings before reading! Warnings will be updated for each chapter in individual posts as well as on the Masterlist.

Warnings: language, discussion of the past, mentions of violence, blood and death, mention of self-harm, NSFW, vampirism, biting

Word Count: 16,754

Summary: Oberyn has already told you that it's been 400 years since he last used his mark of protection on someone that he cared about, but when you learn why he stopped using it - and how that decision has shaped his life since then - it sheds new light on what it means that he used it on you. And so does what happens after he shares this with you.

The plan for dealing with the Lannisters is in place, and preparations continue throughout the week - until Toban and Tyene surprise you with something unexpected but extremely welcome.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM @something-tofightfor & I! We hope that your spooky season is full of fun, treats, and just the right amount of scares. We also hope that you all enjoy this mega-packed chapter! This story continues to be so much fun for us to work on, and we're both really excited about this update and what's still to come. Thank you from the bottoms of our hearts to everyone who has interacted with this story - your comments and reactions make us very happy ghouls.

Also, if you have questions about details or plot points or the way that Westerosi history/world fits into the “real” world- please ask! We don’t want to confuse anyone.

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

It took him more than a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but Oberyn’s hold on you never wavered. You stared out and over the city, the lights glittering in the distance, and you let yourself think again about everything that had happened in the previous hours. No, not just hours … days.

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but …” Closing your eyes, you took a long breath. “If it wasn’t for Golden Lion and my job, I’d probably be in some shitty little apartment in the Midwest right now.” He hummed in response but didn’t speak, one of his hands moving slowly back and forth over your stomach. “I knew what I wanted to do with my life when I was a teenager, but I never really thought that I’d get hired by a company like theirs right out of college.”

“They did something right, at least.” You snorted at his words, his irritation barely masked by amusement. “Was Golden Lion the first place you’ve worked?”

“It was my first full time adult job, yeah. I did an internship with them my senior year of college and I guess they were impressed, but …” You shrugged. “They had more than 100 candidates apply for three open positions so I figured I’d get a “thanks but no thanks” letter after a few weeks and started applying to museums and historical programs in places like Michigan and Illinois and Ohio. But instead … I got a job offer with a relocation assistance stipend.”

It had been one of the best days of your life, and even though you’d learned that Golden Lion - and the Lannisters especially - weren’t the people you’d thought they were, your time at the company had been worthwhile. It taught me so much and it brought me here.

“They do have a knack for recruiting people with talent.” He sighed, lowering his lips to your shoulder again. “It is an annoying thing that has been true since … well, since the beginning.”

You felt him smiling and you did, too, still staring out into the darkness. “I had a choice between working in New York, London, one of the Westeros office locations, or here.”

“And you chose California.” He kissed the side of your neck, breathing the next words into your ear. “The City of Angels.” You rolled your eyes every time Los Angeles was referred to that way, but when Oberyn said it, it had the opposite effect on you. I am a walking cliche when it comes to him.

“I did. Westeros was tempting, just because of everything it would have allowed me to see, but I decided it was too far away for something that I didn’t know if I’d get to do for long. In London I would have been in a really small office and that wasn’t appealing. New York was …” You wrinkled your nose, even though he couldn’t see it. Never New York. “But California? I figured that even if the job didn’t work out, I’d have the beach. And then I met Nora and her friends and it turned out I really liked what I did for work - and most of my coworkers.” You spun to face him, finding that you were blinking back tears.

You knew it was selfish - that after everything the Lannisters had done to the Martells and to the people Oberyn loved, you had no right to be so upset over something as trivial as your job. But it was important to me. It was a huge part of my life. Everything I worked for.

“And I think that’s what the worst part of this is. Even though there were always ulterior motives to what they had me doing, it was … I liked it. I liked working for Golden Lion. I learned so much. I met so many people and worked on so many great projects, and …” You glanced up, lips pressed together. “And then I met you, and I realized that I knew so damn much, but I really knew nothing, even after all this time.”

“Meeting me was the worst part?” He was teasing you, but when you met his eyes you saw concern in them, Oberyn barely concealing a frown as he watched you. “I don’t think that anyone has ever been so bold as to -” That made you laugh, both of your hands coming up to cover your face and wipe some of the tears away.

“Yes, Oberyn. The worst. I meet an unreasonably hot man that just so happens to be the literal embodiment of every fantasy I’ve ever had in my entire life at a bar. Then two weeks later I’m standing with him on the balcony of a penthouse apartment so fucking nice that I have no business being anywhere near it. Oh, and I’m also wearing a mark of protection from him on my neck that means that he chose me, and -”

Oberyn moved before you’d even registered it, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest, face turned down so that he could kiss the top of your head. “I do see how that might be terrible.” Inhaling deeply, you let yourself cry for a few seconds, Oberyn’s arms locked in place. “But you need to look at me.”

You did, pulling back enough so that you could meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there, but Oberyn’s mood had shifted again, the man mostly serious. “What?”

“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the truth. Not many people do. Even those that are like me aren’t �� they do not all come from Westeros, or have the same vendettas that we do. And even I have to admit, the things that the Lannisters have done to remain relevant throughout the years … it is impressive. It is even more impressive because like I said, they attract talented people, which means their relevancy lasts.”

“Yeah, but it’s just … a cover. They used people like me to try and find you, Oberyn. You and your family, and -”

“But think about it.” He loosened his grip on you, taking a half step back and urging you to back up and against the low railing. “How much did you learn? How much did you archive? How much will the records you created teach others? Yes, the end goal was for Lannister benefit, but overall, you’ve done more good for Westeros than you know.” He reached up, fingers curling against your neck so that he could press his thumb to the mark he’d put there. It sent a tingle of heat through you, your lips parting and feet shuffling toward him, both hands rising so that you could grip his shirt. “You know now. And if… when this goes according to plan, I’m sure Tyrion will have no problem getting you back to your position, if that’s what you want. This plan will make him mortal, but getting rid of the rest of the Lannisters puts him at the head of the company by name and lineage, and I do not think that he will mind doing a small favor for me.”

You hadn’t even thought of that - of the possibility that after everything was done, you could go back. But I’ll need to work. I don’t have thousands of years worth of finances saved somewhere, and I can’t pay my rent here without a job. “We’ll see. We need to get through the next …. When is the wedding again?”

“The engagement party is next weekend. The wedding follows soon after. They are apparently following the Westerosi custom of the party being used as a lead-in to the main event, but that works in our favor.”

“Yeah, there’s so much going on no one can have eyes everywhere.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Thank you for talking me down, Oberyn. I’m sorry I -”

“You never need to apologize to me.” He said your name, the man’s thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up so that you could see his wink. “For anything. I understand what you are going through, and I understand how much your life has changed.” Flattening your hands against his belly, you nodded and then took a deep breath.

“If you say so. But I need to stop getting sidetracked. We have a lot to talk about and -” You were interrupted by the rumble of your stomach, Oberyn’s eyes immediately dropping at the sound. Shit. Of course he can hear that, he -

“When was the last time you ate?” He tweaked your chin, his smile widening. “It sounds like it’s been a while.”

“I had some fruit while we talked to Tyrion, but it’s been … hours? Lunch, maybe? I don’t…remember.” You trailed off, frowning. Since the night of the Halloween party, your dining habits had been less than regular. The fact that no one in your company ate at typical times wasn’t helping, either. “I should have something, though. Or else I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Stay here.” He nodded twice. “I’ll get you something and then… I’ll tell you about Cameron and Toban.”

He disappeared back into the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. Once he was gone, you turned back to the railing, gripping it with both hands. You’d wasted time complaining about your job, but not too much, and you knew that even though it was late, there were still hours before sunrise. And he’ll want to stay out here as long as possible.

Your head swirled with bits of information - what you knew about the Lannisters and the Martells, what you knew about Oberyn and Ellaria’s bond, the vow that Oberyn had made to himself the moment he’d been turned and learned what happened when someone turned others. And you knew that no matter how much time you had to understand it, it would never be enough. Unless that eternity that Toban mentioned is possible. That might be …

Swiping one hand over your face, you hung your head, opening your eyes so that you could watch the cars on the street far below you. Tyene had offered to change you if you wanted it. Toban’s willingness to step in when necessary had already been tested, but you had a feeling that if he attempted the same thing a second time, even Ellaria’s interference wouldn’t protect him from Oberyn. But I don’t want either of those options. If it’s not Oberyn… it’s no one.

Linking your fingers together, you stared out and over the city, weight resting on your forearms. Four hundred years is a long time, even for him. And it sounds like Cameron was incredibly important to him but he still wouldn’t … he didn’t even use his mark, he … “It’s late, so I figured you didn’t want anything heavy.”

Turning at the sound of his voice, you watched as he held up a plate with one hand, a bottle of water held in his curled fingers and a stainless steel bottle tucked under his other arm. “A sandwich? Did you make this? Or was it -”

“I might have been a prince in a past life, and not need to eat in this one, but I know my way around a kitchen.” He grinned as he set everything down on the small table before unfolding the blanket laying atop the outdoor couch. “Come here.”

You did, stepping in front of him - and when Oberyn draped the material over your shoulders, he used the ends of the blanket to pull you closer, ducking his head down to press a kiss to your lips. That kiss was longer than the last one on the rooftop, but he still broke it much too quickly, stepping back and gesturing for you to sit. “Thank you for … dinner? A midnight snack? Whatever this is, I’m going to inhale it.”

“Good.” He sat next to you, rolling the container he held between both of his hands. “I hope it is alright with you if I … also eat.” Your eyes flicked from the sandwich in your hand to the bottle in his, both brows shooting up in understanding. Blood. There’s blood in there, and he didn’t want me to see it while he drank.

“Of course. Eat.” You took a bite, chewing to give yourself a few extra seconds before speaking again. “Oberyn, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I understand what … you are, and what you need.” Elbowing him, you turned your head to look at the man. “And I’ve already seen you at your worst with Clegane, right? So it -”

“That wasn’t anywhere near my worst.” Flipping the straw up on his bottle, Oberyn sipped from it, staring straight ahead. “But yes, you have briefly seen the worst parts of me.” Your stomach dropped at his words, but part of you wasn’t surprised. He’s been alive for 2,000 years, and he thinks… Oh, Oberyn. “I know that you are expecting to hear about Cameron. But to tell you about Cameron, I need to go back much further.” He sipped again, eyes closing as he swallowed. “To Isabel. To before Isabel. I need to tell you why I stopped offering my protection to the humans I cared for.”

His voice changed as he spoke the woman’s name, and it only took moments for you to figure out who she was. But instead of interrupting, you continued to eat your sandwich, scooting marginally closer to him while you chewed. It took a few seconds, but Oberyn laid an arm over your shoulders, his fingers closing around the far one and squeezing. I’m listening, Oberyn.

“When Ellaria turned me, I knew that I wouldn’t get my revenge right away. I knew that it could take time, but I never thought … I never thought thousands of years would pass.” He paused, head shaking from side to side slowly. “The longer I waited, the more I needed to do to fill my days. By the time I was given the sunlight again, Ellaria and I were far from Westeros. My immediate relatives were long gone, and there was no sign of the right Lannisters. She took me to Greece and within a year I… we met someone.”

You weren’t surprised - Oberyn’s magnetism had been well documented in all of the ancient texts that you’d seen, and you imagined that given the opportunity to meet new people in new places, it hadn’t been any different.

“But it was short lived, because… I wasn’t careful enough. Her association with Ellaria and I put a target on her head, and she was … she was killed because of it. She was killed and we had to leave, and it was only then that Ellaria explained the process of marking someone for safety.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Wincing, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “I’m so sorry.” He lost someone else, almost right away. I can’t…

“I was too. And from there …” He laughed, but the sound was sad. “From there, I admit that I treated offering my mark in the same way I lived as a man - in excess. Even Ellaria questioned me at times, but it was the way I coped. I could not have the revenge I wanted, and losing more people that I cared about was not an option. So for a few hundred years, I … marked my partners. I kept them close without thinking twice, but I never hesitated to step away from them when it became clear that Cersei and Tywin and the fucking Mountain were back, or when they demanded too much of me.”

“Oberyn, I …” You didn’t know what else to say - especially since up until that conversation, you’d assumed he’d always been selective about who he offered protection to. But I was wrong.

“Many of them asked to become like me, and I denied all of them - most of them without explanation.” He took another drink, pausing before he set the bottle down on the table. “Losing them of natural causes became almost routine for me. Eight. Ten. Twelve. It was not easy to say goodbye, but I was not heartbroken in the same way I was when the first was taken. Finally, Ellaria pulled me aside, and she let me know what she thought.”

“What did she think?” Curling your legs beneath you, you leaned against Oberyn’s side. “It doesn’t seem like she would have said anything unless she felt strongly about it.”

“You are correct.” Glancing up, you saw that he was smiling - that expression a fonder one. “She told me that the mark was meant to be a symbol of honor, and an indication that the person who wore it was special. She said she’d never try to tell me how to live my second life, but that unless I used that ability with some discretion, it was … meaningless. That in our community, the mark had come to symbolize intent, and I was treating it like giving someone a worthless trinket. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way.”

“Were you two together all that time? I know that Makers don’t always stay with their Children, but you and Ellaria are … different.”

“No. She stayed with me for a long time, but once she was certain I would be alright on my own, we separated. We’d see each other … well, to us, it was frequently, but to you, it probably isn’t.” He started moving his hand up and down on your arm, Oberyn shifting so that you could move even closer. “She made a special trip to tell me what she thought about me using my mark, though. And afterward … I slowed down. I slowed down and I realized that there was no point in protecting people in that way. It was only for my benefit. It didn’t offer them anything in the end.”

Unconsciously, you reached up, touching the space on your neck that bore his sigil. Something changed again. Ellaria and Tyene and Toban’s reactions were real. This isn’t just a mark, it’s… more.

“It’s not possible for me to be emotionless; I’m sure you know that. But I … stopped letting myself get so attached. I stopped settling in places long term. I kept moving. I focused on my eventual revenge instead of on immediate pleasure, and instead of one or two people a century wearing my mark and knowing what I was, more and more time passed between each one. I kept my own secret, and didn’t linger long enough for people to start asking questions.”

“You must have been lonely.” Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes. “Even with Ellaria and the Others that you came into contact with, it must have been so hard.”

“It was. But it got easier each year. The difficult part came when the questions about me making a Child started coming, and I had to explain my reasoning for not turning anyone.”

“That’s nobody’s business, though.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s like people questioning why someone like me isn’t trying to have a baby, or hinting that time is running out, or making the assumption that you can’t be happy unless you’re a parent. That’s a personal choice, Oberyn, and even though I’m kind of relieved to know it isn’t just humans who think that’s their business, it’s still awful of them to question you like that.”

“The thing is, that my reason for not turning anyone is … hypothetical. Yes, most of us pass our strongest traits on when we change someone, but it isn’t set in stone that it happens.” He removed his arm from around you and then leaned forward, picking up the thermos again and taking a long pull from it. You caught a whiff of copper, biting your lip at the scent, but before you could say anything, he continued. “Even Ellaria started to hint that there would be nothing wrong with me changing someone and potentially passing something along, but she never pushed. And after those conversations - after seeing her and Toban and meeting others like us and their first Children, I began to see the appeal… and I started using my mark again. Sparingly, but … just in case. Just to let everyone know that someone was off limits.”

“But you never acted.” He flipped the straw down and let the bottle go, leaning back. “Even though you were close.”

“I was.” He sighed. “Sort of.” Without warning, Oberyn pulled you onto his lap, strong arms holding you against his chest though you were still wrapped in the blanket. “I met Isabel while I waited for Ellaria to arrive for a visit, and there was … something about her. A connection between us that was immediate. I fell for her and offered her my protection. She accepted, and asked if … if it was possible that we could be together forever.”

“You considered it.” You looked up at him, watching as Oberyn nodded slowly. “Because if Ellaria thought you were going to choose between Tyene and Isabel, you must have been much closer than before.”

“I was.” He met your gaze then, the line between his brows deep as he frowned. “But I made the mistake of telling her that it was in fact a possibility, and she … assumed.” Oh, no. “And with that assumption, our relationship changed. I loved her. The idea of … forever with her was not unappealing, but …”

“She thought a maybe was a definitely.” He nodded again and then winced when he looked away, like he was remembering actually living the experience. “Did she know about your past? About the Lannisters and your family?”

“She did. And at first, she told me that she understood my need for vengeance, even though she hadn’t ever seen or heard of the Lannisters before me. But as more time passed, I think … it became clear to her just how focused on that goal I was. I spent as much time with her as I could, but I was also with Ellaria and Tyene, making plans. It had been a long time since Cersei and Tywin had shown their faces so we thought it was probably coming. And when I reminded Isabel that there was a chance that I would turn her and our time together would be short because I did what needed to be done and did not survive, she …”

He lifted a hand a rubbed slowly at his jaw, still staring out at the city. You’d thought that Oberyn’s reasons for not turning the woman had been simple, but the previous few minutes had proven otherwise. And I think it’s going to get worse.

“She did not take it well. She said that Ellaria encouraging my revenge quest for over a thousand years was not a good idea. She said that if I kept it up, I would only do more harm to myself and the people I cared about. She said that once I turned her, I would understand that there was more to my life than the need to remove the Lannisters from the world. And that was … the last thing I needed to hear. Especially since Ellaria had been the one encouraging me to make an offer to Isabel in the first place.”

“I’ve said a lot of stupid things in my life, Oberyn, but none of them have been as stupid as telling you Ellaria was a bad influence on you.” He smiled at that but it was still sad, his hold on you tightening. “That wouldn’t have been a good start to Isabel’s new life.”

“No. And as much as I loved her, Ellaria’s presence was … is… always going to factor into my decisions. I will never compromise on that, no matter how many years I walk this Earth, or who I choose to have beside me.” And you shouldn’t have to. Ellaria isn’t just your Maker. She’s … everything to you. “Isabel didn’t take that well, and she definitely didn’t take me telling her that I’d chosen not to turn her because of her feelings about Ellaria well, either.”

He stopped speaking, and you watched the emotions pass across his features, his face more expressive than you’d ever seen it before. He tightened his jaw and then loosened it before finally looking down at you with another frown on his face that sent a shallow ache through your chest. “Are you -”

“Give me a second. This is not easy for me.” He closed his eyes and then turned toward you, kissing you on the forehead and lingering there. “I left her and went back to Ellaria and Tyene full time. I refused to turn Tyene because that girl deserved better than to be someone’s second choice, and Ellaria was far more equipped to handle her transformation than I was.” He spoke without pulling back, his lips brushing over your skin with each word. “But curiosity got the better of me, and after a little while, I went back to check in on Isabel, and she …”

You felt it before you saw it - the warmth of Oberyn’s tears falling against your skin. Without thinking twice, you slipped an arm around his back and the other under his shoulder, turning your head so that you could press your cheek to his chest. Whatever he’s going to say next is going to be awful.

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

You closed your eyes as the ache in your heart deepened. Without realizing it, you tightened your hold on him, fingers digging into his skin. You were expecting it to be bad given the way he was struggling to get through this part of the story. But that’s horrible. I can’t even imagine…

Your thoughts trailed off as he continued. “She said if I wouldn’t choose her, she didn’t want the safety my mark brought her. Since she could not see it, she… What she did to herself, it… her arm was … mutilated. The wound … it … it became infected, and the infection spread. She refused to let me do anything about it.” He paused again, and when he spoke, you heard the tremble in his voice. “She was too weak to get out of bed, but she was strong enough to tell me that all she’d done was make sure that I didn’t have to wait around for years to watch her die of old age since I wouldn’t give her a forever.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Your blood ran cold at his words, and you knew that he’d heard your sharp intake of breath. “That’s… how could someone do that to you?” You knew that he’d loved the woman, but you thought she’d been selfish - especially when it came to Ellaria. And if she knew what avenging his family meant, she just tried to manipulate him. And that’s even worse.

“I don’t know. But she did die, and despite what she’d done, it … hurt to lose her. Before you, she was the last person I placed under my protection.” He sniffed, saying your name. “For four hundred years, there hasn’t been anyone else I have wanted to protect. Not even Cameron. Not even when I knew his life was in danger. Because the memory of Isabel - and what she believed that mark would eventually mean was so strong.”

He used one hand to ease your head away from his chest, tilting it to the side so that he could stare at the skin of your throat, leaving you to wonder at his thoughts. Do you regret it? Do you wish you’d asked? Do you wish you’d waited?

“Our marks of protection are all slightly different, but they all require …” He smiled briefly, raising his thumb so that the ring caught some of the light. “The right components.” You’d wanted to ask about the process but didn’t know how - especially since you didn’t have a clue where to start, so you were glad that he brought it up on his own. “It can be made from any metal, but most of us that are … ancient choose gold. It is melted down by an elder, and then some of our blood is added to the molten liquid. Even a few drops are powerful, which is why when I bit you, I pressed the sigil to your skin. I healed the space around it with my tongue, but… the metal itself healed that area… and since the metal bears the spear of House Martell… it remains on your skin, a visible reminder of just how important you are to me.”

“I wish it was visible for me, especially after seeing Ellaria, Tyene and Toban’s reactions to it.” The words slipped out - and at the realization of their implication, you sat straight up, eyes wide. Oh, no. I didn’t mean to… Especially after what we just talked about. Now he’s going to think -

“I wish you could see it too. But for right now … you can feel it.” He reached for you again, fingers trailing over your skin and sending heat throughout your body. And when he positioned his hand the same way he had the night he’d marked you, you gasped at the surge of warmth, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly as he gauged your reaction. “I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.” He leaned closer, curling his fingers slightly. “This is a good reminder.” Of what?

There were plenty of ways to interpret his words, but you chose to take them at face value - that he was simply happy to be around someone that understood the significance of what he’d given them - and didn’t try to take things a step further or ask for clarification. Even though I want to, and he has to know it by now. “I’m glad something good came out of this mess.” Letting the blanket drop, you pulled one hand free, raking your fingers through his hair. “Even something small.”

“It is not small, believe me.” He let go of your throat, his hand dropping to your shoulder and squeezing. “But I still have not told you about Cameron, and that’s what I promised to do.”

“We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I can sleep in.” He smiled at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But yes. Tell me about him, please. And maybe something about Toban, too. Because -”

“Toban means well. He always has. And while I wouldn’t call it jealousy, because it’s clear he would do anything for her, the connection that Ellaria has with him has … started to bother me more as the years pass.” He rolled his eyes. “Our gifts are another thing that isn’t guaranteed, but depending on your lineage, they’re more or less likely. With Ellaria, they are very likely, since she’s one of the first.”

You’d assumed that to be the case about her age, but with the confirmation, you realized just how special your circumstances were - and how lucky Oberyn was. Because she barely saved him. And so anyone younger might not have.

“Ellaria can see the past via touch. Toban’s ability is to read situations and circumstances like no one I have ever met before. Tyene … well, she is able to convince anyone to do just about anything, and doesn’t hesitate to tell you what she thinks about it.”

You grinned at the admission, lifting a brow. “I’m not surprised by that, especially after the way she greeted me for the first time.”

He smiled, too, the man nodding. “Her treatment of you is how I knew she accepted you, but I was surprised that she did it as quickly as she did.”

“I like her, Oberyn. I’m glad that Ellaria turned her. She fits well with the two of you…. And Toban.” Dropping your hands to settle them in your lap, you cocked your head to the side. “What is your gift, though? You must have one, if the three of them do.”

“Nothing as exciting as seeing the past or knowing the future or the power of persuasion.” He sighed, the rise and fall of his chest a strange sight. “My… gift is also somewhat of a curse. The depth of my humanity is what I carry with me, no matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it sometimes. Despite my hesitation when it comes to getting attached, when it happens … I cannot help the way it makes me feel… and act, when the situation calls for it.”

“How is that a curse?”

“I haven’t been a human in 2,000 years. At that age, most of us have long since forgotten what it’s like to experience things the same way humans do. But I have never been able to disassociate from that part of myself entirely. I’ve tried to, but it has never worked for long.” He closed his eyes, pausing. “And that brings me to Cameron.”

“I’m going to stay quiet, Oberyn, and just let you talk. Because if I interrupt, I’ll -”

“Thank you. There aren’t many that know this full story, so…” He slipped a hand under the blanket and then under your top, his large palm pressed to your side. “That will help.”

You didn’t know what to expect when it came to the man’s story, but once he started speaking, you were enraptured - and wouldn’t have wanted to interject without his encouragement.

“Ellaria and I have done many things throughout the years to earn a living, finding ways to adapt to the times at hand and use current events to our advantage. Some of the stories about our kind are true, but there are others that aren’t. For example, some of us are quite persuasive, like Tyene, but we can’t just … bend people’s minds to our will without a second thought. Luckily, by the time I was turned, Ellaria had already amassed quite a fortune that she kept secret. Her name may have been Sand then, yet she was anything but poor. Those funds, along with what I was able to take away from my own family’s vaults throughout the years were more than we needed.”

He hummed, glancing down at you and then back out at the skyline, and you used the opportunity to take in his profile, parts of his face silhouetted in shadow, though it only made him more appealing.

“At the time I met Cameron, Ellaria and I were operating a network of Speakeasies on the East Coast. It was good money, easy money. And it was simple for us to attract visitors, because almost everyone was looking for a place to drink and socialize where they could be themselves in every way.”

You didn’t need clarification on that. When it came to Oberyn, excess was the norm, and he’d never been one to hide his true nature, or his desires. Sex and alcohol and freedom? People must have loved them back then. He stroked over your skin with his fingertips, humming low in his throat before he continued.

“Cameron was … special. He visited one of our locations in The Bowery, and caught my eye from across the room. I had two beautiful women in my lap and he still devoured me with his gaze as though they were not there at all. His confidence was… alluring. He wasn’t shy about what he wanted, and I liked that. We began a relationship, and I quickly realized that I cared for him, despite promising myself that I would keep things … loose. I did travel a lot, between locations, and Ellaria often filled in in my absence, so he got to know her, too.”

Oberyn lowered his head and rested it against yours, collecting himself. “Many like us came to America then, to take advantage of the rapidly expanding cities and the nightlife. There was a group - the one Toban told you about? From Braavos? They were also attempting to operate in the same market as we were, and it got … contentious.”

You weren’t surprised because Toban had given you a heads up, but that didn’t make the story any easier to hear. He’s been through so much. He’s had to adapt over and over and it’s still happening.

“I wanted to be sure that Cameron was safe, and since he knew what I was, it was a little easier. We trained together. He stayed close to me when I traveled. I told him what to look for when it came to potential attempts on his life. The sell swords attacked one of our clubs one night, burning it to the ground because they thought we were there … and that is when Cameron and I disappeared for a while. We needed to lay low, and it was during that time that he asked me to protect him with my mark. But I was hesitant, and you know why.”

“I do.” You mumbled the words, agreeing. “And I know how hard it probably still was for you to tell him no.”

“Punishing Cameron for Isabel’s behavior was unfair of me, and I know it. I knew it then, but that changed nothing. He asked me - repeatedly, why I would not protect him if I claimed to love him. All I could say was that I had never before used the mark as a last resort, and I didn’t want to start with him. There were many Others from Braavos, but they were clumsy, and I thought … I thought my presence would be enough. But Cameron got tired of me telling him no, and so he turned to Toban, who was spending a lot of time with Ellaria then, and one thing led to another.”

“Would … would the bond he felt with Toban because of the mark have changed if you’d turned him later? How does that work?”

“I do not know.” He shook his head, the man’s frown deepening. “For many, offering the mark is the precursor to offering them a second life. It is … I don’t think I have ever come across someone that is protected by one and a Child of another. But in Cameron’s case, it wouldn’t have mattered. He grew to resent me in the months following Toban’s decision, and his final request of me was just a last effort to make me choose.”

“Were he and Toban -”

“No, they were never together. Not to my knowledge, anyway. Toban marked him because time was running out, and it was either that or watch me lose someone else I cared for before I was ready, because they would have eventually killed him. It was only a matter of time. He turned him because after the mark, the two of them became close, since Cameron wanted less and less to do with me. After your first, it … I’m told that it becomes less likely that the bond is so strong between a Maker and a Child, so to Toban, it was as simple as granting a request. Cameron told me what was happening, and then the two of them left and were out of touch for twenty years.”

You found it hard to believe that Toban had been out of touch with Ellaria for so long, but stayed quiet, thoughts buzzing in your head. Oberyn’s differing use of his mark of protection through the years was staggering - from overusing it to not using it to choosing to use it sparingly to only offering it when the possibility of forever was on the table, but denying it to someone that was in immediate danger. And then there’s me. How do I factor into this? “You never considered turning Cameron?”

“Not once. I did love him. We were close. He knew me well, and we were happy together, but it wasn’t … I never felt the same as I did with Isabel, and that was a problem for me. He’s happy now, I’ve seen him once since he became one of us, but … the bond between us does not exist anymore. And as upset as I was with Toban at the time, his … interference was for the best. It kept Cameron alive, and it kept me from being forced to make a decision that I would have regretted later.”

You couldn’t help it - stifling a yawn in the middle of his words, one hand rising to cover your mouth and hide it. Shit. “I’m sorry, Oberyn. It’s just that it’s late, and you’re comfortable, and -”

“It is. And I am.” He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I am almost done, and then I will take you to bed.” Wait, what? “To sleep,” he clarified, lips finding your temple. “I just need to explain my feelings toward Toban, and then … then you will understand more.”

“Before you do that, I have something to ask.” Leaning back, you looked up as he stared down at you, the man nodding twice. “Tyene offered to change me if you wouldn’t. Toban said that he was glad things wouldn’t be the same with me as they were with Cameron, and that he looked forward to getting to know me when this was over … why? They’ve known me for a few days, and they’re already acting like I’m going to be around for a long time, and that they want it to happen.”

“They’re my family. They understand that everything going on right now is … fluid. But the fact that I acted so quickly and definitively with you, despite you being in no danger from any Others … it tells them everything they need to know about my feelings.” It was an answer, but only a partial one - though it would have to be enough. Because there are more important things to worry about.

“What if there are Others working with the Lannisters that Tyrion doesn’t know about? What if that’s a surprise? What if -”

“That is nothing to worry about. It is a rule set by our Elders that we give the Lannisters nothing. They’ve been trying to figure out how our blood works for centuries, and have offered unbelievable sums of money for assistance. But despite the fact that not all of the Others have a vendetta against them like mine or Ellaria’s, no one is willing to help them, because it means they’d be completely cut off if they lived long enough… and survived my retaliation against them.”

Toban’s words - no one would dare cross the Red Viper - echoed in your mind, and despite yourself, you shivered. If he has that much power over the entire community, then … then the fact that I’ve been accepted by him means even more than I thought it did. “I’m glad to hear it. And soon, helping the Lannisters won’t be something any of you have to worry about.”

“No, it won’t be.” He hummed and then squinted, though you knew that his vision was perfect. “The sun will start to rise in about 40 minutes, so I’m going to make this quick.” Quietly encouraging him to continue, you squeezed his bicep. “I have denied myself very little in my first life… or in this life. But I am consciously denying myself the connection that we have with our first. Over and over, I have had the opportunity to choose someone to fill that role, and I have walked away every time. Toban was Ellaria’s first, and the bond they have … as much as I want to experience that, it hasn’t ever felt right. She turned him with nothing but love for him in her heart, and I … I’ve already told you what I feel. The hate. The rage. The sadness. They are not all I feel, but they are always there, like a shadow. Making someone an offer of eternal life shouldn’t come with the burden of those things.”

No, it shouldn’t. “Only you can decide what the right time is, or who the right person is, Oberyn. And you told me the other night that once this is over? You might be able to make that offer to someone. I want that for you. And whoever it is is going to be the luckiest person in the world, because you -”

“No.” Using one hand, he turned your face toward his, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “I will be the luckiest man on this planet if they say yes.” Oberyn kissed you softly, his lips parted so that your lower one fit between them.

He didn’t say you, don’t get your hopes up. But it was impossible not to - all of Oberyn’s words and explanations aligned with his actions and your presence in his life, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that he was referring to you when he mentioned an after for someone.

“I do not hate Toban. I could never truly despise someone that holds such a large portion of Ellaria’s heart. But he has something I haven’t been able to seriously consider for myself, and seeing him … and them together is a reminder of that.”

You kissed him when he was done speaking, puckered lips trailing over his and then to his cheek, pausing over the space where his dimple appeared each time he smiled and then moving back to his mouth. You lingered there, wanting to deepen it, but Oberyn decided for you, shaking his head and leaning back. “We need to go inside. If I get carried away with you out here, the sun will not be pleasant.”

“Of course.” Pushing yourself to your feet, you kept the blanket wrapped around you, staring down at where he still sat. “Plus, unless I missed something in the last few hours, you and Ellaria haven’t had enough time to take care of what you need to, so… getting carried away isn’t an option.”

“We have not.” He stood, too, reaching out to put an arm around your shoulders. “But there are other things that you and I could do that would make me lose track of time.”

“Yeah?” Feeling bold, you slid your arm around his back, hand landing on his hip and your fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of the pants he wore. “Are any of those possible in that bedroom with the drapes shut?”

“If you’re not too tired, we can find out.”

You were exhausted, but his words sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, your eyes moving to the partially open door. I’ll never be too tired to find out with you, Oberyn. What you’d discussed had likely taken a lot out of him, but you never would have known based on the way he led you back into the bedroom and then fluidly worked to secure the door and drapes - ensuring that not even a sliver of sunlight would leak through when it rose.

You went into the bathroom while he did that, taking a few moments when you’d finished to stare at yourself in the mirror. You could feel the mark he’d given you - a dull thrum against the side of your throat, and even though you knew it wouldn’t do any good, you leaned in and squinted at your reflection. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but I really wish I could see it just once.

And you didn’t even mean as a result of being turned - though if that were the case, you’d be able to see it any time you looked into the mirror. I just mean … Swirling your fingertips slowly over your skin, you sighed. I want to see what he sees.

A knock at the door startled you. When it pushed open a few seconds later, Oberyn peaking around the edge, you straightened up and smiled. “You can come in. I guess.”

He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. Oh, he took his shirt off. “The room is ready. We will be able to rest for as long as we need to.”

“What do you do while I… while the person you’re in bed with is sleeping?” You watched his expression in the mirror, both of Oberyn’s eyebrows shooting upward. “You don’t really sleep, so -”

“I do need rest. When it’s a human I’m with, my body just sort of goes into a … meditative state. I’m still alert and aware in case of danger, but if someone were to see me, they’d think I was asleep.” He stepped behind you, extending his arms so that he could grip the edges of the counter on either side of your body. “You have seen me actually sleep, though. After the Mountain? My body was doing everything possible to heal, and that meant being truly unconscious.”

Oberyn pressed his chest to your back, never breaking eye contact with your reflection. “So it’s like a recharge. Even though you technically don’t need it, you still… keep up appearances.”

“I do.” He nodded, turning his head to press his lips to the angle of your jaw. “When I have a reason to.” I’m the reason right now? “I also must admit to something.” He kissed you again, mouth moving closer to your ear. “In the last few days, I have spent more than a few hours just watching you sleep.”

“Creep.” But you felt your entire body growing warm at his words, a sharp inhale of breath your only response when he let go of the counter and wound his arms around you to pull you even closer. “Oberyn.”

“I have been trying to figure out what it is about you that has drawn me in so quickly.” He hummed, the man pushing your shirt up and gliding his fingers over your skin. “Why I was so … moved to do whatever it took to protect you, even when I was … impaired and hadn’t had the urge to give that gift to anyone in hundreds of years.”

“Does the why matter?” Sighing as he stroked the skin beneath your belly button, you tipped your head back, resting it against his shoulder. “It doesn’t to me, because whatever the reason, it means … you’re in my life now, and I’m in yours. Whatever that means going forward is something that we’ll have to figure out, but …” Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, pressing your lips together. “Do you regret what you did? Do you wish you hadn’t been -”

“No.” It was almost a growl, Oberyn’s palm flattening against your belly, the other one moving up your body and sliding beneath the neckline of your shirt so that he could settle it over your heart. “I regret the timing, yes, and not being able to explain what I wanted to do beforehand… but when it comes to choosing you?” He nuzzled against the side of your face, his upper lip curling. “There is no regret.”

It made you feel better.

When you turned your head toward him, he was waiting, the man’s lips already parted so that he could pull yours between them, the scrape of his teeth making you groan. Reaching up, you used one hand to grip his hair, fingers twisting in the silver-streaked locks. He pressed harder on your chest, and once again, you knew he was monitoring your heartbeat. But this time, it’s not because he’s afraid it’s too slow.

He kissed you harder, his mouth moving with yours - and the hand on your abdomen moved lower, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband of your sweats. You whimpered then, Oberyn swallowing the sound - but it only seemed to encourage him. Wait, though. Wait because …

Pulling away from him with a gasp, you let out a shuddering breath, and were unsurprised to see mischief in his eyes, one of his brows raised. “Can, um…” Fighting to catch your breath, you chewed on your lower lip and wrinkled your nose. This is stupid. “Can they hear us? I know this is a big apartment, but …”

To his credit, Oberyn didn’t outright laugh at you. Instead he just murmured your name and leaned in to kiss you, his fingers curling slightly. “Our hearing is very good, yes. But with age and experience, we are able to … tune things out. It becomes like background noise for us unless we’re actively listening. I cannot say that they won’t all know that something is going on in here because of your heartbeat or any noises we make, but I can assure you that Ellaria and Toban are quite occupied themselves, and Tyene is more like a teenager than you know.”

“Doesn’t want to hear either of her parents having sex? Got it.” You grinned at that, feeling marginally more at ease. “I just didn’t want to be rude, Oberyn. I know you’ll tell me that I’m worrying for nothing, but …”

“I certainly haven’t been listening to them, I can promise you that.” The look in his eyes changed briefly, but then he was focused on you again, the intensity back. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” You considered his words for a few seconds, breaking eye contact and then closing both of yours.

Everything you knew about Oberyn Martell - from Westerosi history books and actually meeting him in person - told you that while he had very few limitations when it came to his behavior, he was considerate of others when the situation called for it.

He wouldn’t force you to do anything, and his honesty about the fact that three supernatural beings also in the apartment could probably hear everything happening was proof that you had a choice about whether or not to move forward. But they all already know how he is. They know how he feels, and how I feel, and …

“I want this, Oberyn.” His hold on you tightened, and when you lifted your head again to lock eyes with him in the mirror, you nodded twice. “But, the first time we’re actually together? I’d prefer if it was just the two of us, you know?”

“Of course.” The hand at your chest dropped a few inches, Oberyn’s wrist caught on the neckline of your shirt as he palmed one breast. “No one to listen. No one to interrupt. No one to …” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then moved them down, kissing the space just beneath your ear and then against the column of your throat. “No one to make either of us leave that bed before we’re ready.”

You moaned at that - the sound loud, and when he latched his lips against your skin and sucked, you did it again, not caring at all who was listening. He wasn’t biting you, but part of you wished that he would - and you didn’t know what exactly that said about you. “I can’t wait.” The thought of you and Oberyn - uninterrupted and in a bed together, the man finally able to give you what you both desperately wanted - was enough to make your knees shake.

But he kept you upright, releasing your skin and then smiling against it as he continued to kiss his way forward. “On that night,” he whispered, lips moving over the part of your collarbone that was exposed, “on that night, I am going to kiss every single part of you that I marred when I was not well.”

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

“It is not for you.” He shook his head, the hand at your waist sliding marginally lower while the one on your chest moved in a slow circle, one fingertip circling your nipple. “It is for me. And it is the only way I can begin to forgive myself.” You knew that telling him that you’d already forgiven him was unnecessary - he’d made the decision to make up for what he’d done, and you couldn’t sway him. “But for now…” He took a step forward, the small movement aligning your thighs with the edge of the counter. “This is for you.”

He removed his hand from beneath your shirt and then used both of his to pull it upward, the man silent as he moved. Raising your arms to allow him to fully remove it, you let out a shuddering breath at the sight of your bare torso in the mirror, watching as he wrapped his arms around you again. He’s just watching me. Watching … us.

The heat of his body was soft against your skin, the man’s palms warmer where they pressed to it - but you were focused on the intensity of his gaze, his eyes following the movement of his fingers as he touched you. “Oberyn, what are …” You gasped when his right hand slid down your stomach, fingers gliding beneath your waistband again - but instead of continuing down, he held it there, humming appreciatively. “You seem pleased with yourself, Prince Oberyn.”

That got a laugh out of him, the smile spreading across his face as he palmed your chest with his other hand. But when Oberyn said your name next, there was no trace of laughter in his voice. Instead, it was low and full of want, his eyes blazing in the mirror’s reflection. “You’ll be pleased in a few minutes, too. That is a promise.”

You managed little more than a quiet sigh in response, but you nodded, never taking your eyes off of him. He was pressed against you from behind, the man’s body firm, and when he used one foot to nudge yours apart, you moved. Not much - just enough to widen your stance for him. Please touch me, Oberyn. Please, just …

Reaching up with one hand, you dragged your fingers through the hair laying against the nape of his neck as you finally turned your head toward him, your upper body twisting slightly. It was enough to allow you to kiss him, your mouth pressed to his as your fingers curled.

Despite his age and his circumstances - and the fact that your friends had the element of surprise, you knew that nothing was promised beyond the moments you were living in. Especially for me, you thought as you continued to kiss him, lips parting in a signal to him that you wanted more. Because out of everyone, I’m the only one without a contingency plan or immortal blood.

He must have noticed a change in your heartbeat, because Oberyn pulled away moments later, his frown deep. “What is wrong? Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I don’t.” Closing your eyes, you bit down on your lower lip. “I’m just … so much could go wrong, Oberyn. And I’m scared that I’ll lose you before …” You pulled your hand from his head, using it to cover your mouth. Just say it. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you before I can really get to know you. Or that something will happen to me, and then…” And then you’ll lose someone else you care about earlier than planned.

“You will not lose me.” He leaned in, running his nose along your temple. “Not during this conflict, and definitely not tonight.” He kissed you then, lips landing on the corner of one eye. “And nothing is going to happen to you… nothing that you don’t like, anyway.” You felt his smile, the man pausing before he spoke again - that time, directly into your ear. “Let me take care of you, issa ōños.”

You knew it was Valyrian, but you didn’t know what he’d said - and didn’t want to stop him and ask, especially when his hand moved even lower, the edges of his nails dragging against your sensitive skin and making your hips jerk backward into his. He was hard and made no effort to conceal that from you, Oberyn bending one knee and sliding that foot between both of your legs so that you could feel the length of him against the back of your hip.

It also stabilized you, your lips curving into a tiny smile at the realization. But that was cut off when he kissed you again, Oberyn’s lips crushing yours with what you could only describe as a slight desperation. You have nothing to prove to me, Oberyn. Nothing at all.

The hand on your chest moved upward, palm pausing over your heart for long moments as the kiss continued, desperation turning into something like need as he felt the steady - though elevated - beat of it. He nodded once without breaking the kiss, and when you circled your hips slowly, leaning the weight of your upper body into his, Oberyn was ready.

He licked into your mouth, the drag of his tongue long and slow. It took you a few seconds to realize that he’d dropped his hand again, slipping his fingers between your legs and curving them - the breadth of them pressed against the apex of your thighs. His touch was welcome, and when he stroked you with one long finger, you moaned into his mouth, your hand rising again to let your fingers tangle in his hair.

He continued with only one finger, though he sped up after a minute or so, the man not doing anything but touching you until he broke the kiss to let you breathe. You gasped a breath into your lungs, eyes squeezed shut, and when Oberyn’s hand moved upward from your chest and to your throat, you let it out shakily at what you knew was coming.

He made contact with the mark on your neck at the same time one finger slipped into you, Oberyn humming as you breathed out his name, the sound so quiet that only someone with his hearing would have known. Your muscles clenched around his finger, your body accommodating him immediately - though you wanted more, and knew that he’d want you to say so.

You opened your mouth to tell him, turning your head just enough so that you could steal a quick kiss, but when your lips met, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth - the man nicking your lip and then snapping his head back before you could even react. His fangs are out. Is that new or has it been that way every time we’ve been close like this? “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t apologize for what you are, Oberyn.” You dragged your tongue slowly over the area he’d bitten, your tongue coming away coated in the tang of copper. You met his eyes again - directly that time, and not in the mirror - and shook your head without looking away. “I can handle it, and I want to.” It was the truth - you needed him to know that no part of him or who he was or what he wanted frightened you or made you uncomfortable in any way, and that you trusted him to toe the line of safety with you in every situation. “Can…” Swallowing, you nodded. “Can I see?”

He hesitated but it was brief. Oberyn’s hand dropped from your neck back to your upper chest, the motion of his other hand paused, too. “Yes. You can.” He opened his mouth again, tipping his head back and baring his teeth - and you watched as his fangs descended, the sharp points coming into view with no change in his expression. Oberyn stayed still, the man’s eyes on your face as you stared at what he was showing you.

They were beautiful - much like the rest of him was - and without thinking about it, you raised your hand slowly, fingertips caressing his cheek as your thumb hovered just in front of his open mouth. “Does it hurt?” You spoke quietly, wondering what he felt in the rhythm of your heartbeat. “When they come down?”

“No.” He prodded at one with the tip of his tongue, your eyes following the movement. “It never has.” You wanted to touch one of them - to press the pad of your thumb against the point, testing the sharpness, but had no idea if that would be crossing the line of acceptability. “People used to fear them, even after I told them what I was. I became … adept at keeping them hidden. At not letting my natural reaction to … others allow them to be visible.”

“So they come out when you’re turned on?” Arching a brow, you grinned at him again. “Good to know.” The edge of your nail caught on his lower lip, and then Oberyn snapped his teeth at you, playfully nipping at it before turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist with a lingering press of his lips. “Oberyn.” You got his attention with a single word, his gaze rising to lock with yours again. “You have my permission to … bite me if that’s what you want.”

It sounded stupid coming from you - the words leaving your lips and echoing in the small space. But he probably needs to hear it, because he was so afraid I’d be mad or off-put and … I’m not. “Is it what you want?”

He pulled you closer to his body, Oberyn’s fingers curling against your core, and you nodded in return. “Yes. I want you, and that urge is a part of who you are, so… it is.” His eyes flashed at your admission, the man’s pupils widening - and then he was kissing you again, none of the previous restraint present.

Instead, he took the lead, his mouth pressed to yours with some force as the hand between your legs began to move again. But that time, Oberyn went with two fingers, much as he had done in the safehouse. It felt better - your body’s immediate reaction to cant your hips forward over and over into his touch, chasing the pressure of the heel of his hand on each backstroke.

He bit your lip again before he moved his mouth to your jaw, the points of his teeth scraping over it and then dragging along your cheek, the man’s plush lips trailing a second path over your heated skin.

Closing your eyes and breathing hard, you angled your head away and gave him a better route to your neck, knowing full well that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mark - but still wanting his mouth on it, wanting to feel the heat of his lips as the effect of the claim he’d made on you coursed through your body. Not a claim, you reminded yourself as he bit on your earlobe before releasing it. A promise. A reminder that he wants to keep me safe.

And Oberyn did press his lips to your mark moments later, along with a twist of his wrist that left his fingers buried in you but also allowed him to circle his thumb over the spot just above them, your hips jerking back once more. His kiss burned, the connection between you electric in its intensity, and you forced your eyes open, watching what was going on in the mirror.

It was a sight you’d never forget - one of his hands pressed so tightly to your chest that your flesh dimpled beneath it, the other hidden beneath the sweats you still wore, the motion of the fabric over the movement of his fingers and the flex of the muscles in his wrist and forearm something that you could have watched for hours.

But it was his head that you focused on, the crown of dark curls streaked with silver repositioned after only a few seconds and giving you a view of his brow and nose as he moved away from your throat and back to the place where your neck met your shoulder.

You didn’t even notice your own bare skin - chest on full display in the warm light of the vanity fixture - because you were so focused on him and what he was doing. But nothing could have prepared you for Oberyn raising his eyes and turning his head so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

He curled his fingers inside of you at the same moment he smirked, and then he opened his mouth, letting you watch as his fangs descended once more. He’s going to … Oh, he’s…

You knew it was coming and yet you were still unprepared for the way it felt the moment he sunk his teeth into your skin, the man’s low moan at the taste of you sending a shiver of pleasure throughout your entire body. Your first instinct was to close your eyes but you forced yourself to keep them open, watching as your mouth dropped open, lips forming his name though you didn’t speak it out loud.

He didn’t actually drink from you the same way he had the first night. Instead, Oberyn sipped slowly, timing the swallows with the strokes of his fingers, your body following his lead. You lifted one hand and laid it over the one he had on your chest, using the other one to grip the edge of the counter even though it was unnecessary.

You wanted to watch - wanted to see the exact moment you fell apart from his touch and his mouth, but instead of doing that, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax into him, the man supporting your weight, even as your hips continued to move in tandem with his hand.

There was pressure building in your lower belly - the result of his touch and his bite, and if you could sense it, you knew that he likely could, too. But I haven’t touched him. I haven’t … he hasn’t… You groaned, forcing your eyes open and saying his name, the man looking up without pulling his mouth away from your skin. His eyes were dark - the pupils so wide that you couldn’t tell where they ended, and there was a tiny trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth that made you gasp when you saw it. That’s my … oh, shit.

But it didn’t deter you, and when you spoke moments later, your voice was low, though you heard the certainty in your tone. “Touch yourself, Oberyn. I know you want to.”

His eyes rolled back and then he shut them, pulling the hand on your chest out from beneath yours as he sucked on your shoulder, and then you felt that hand slide down your body before it joined the other one between your legs. What the fuck is he…

Before you could even finish your thought, Oberyn deftly replaced his first hand with the second, never missing a beat in the rhythm of his touch. Oh, he’s … oh, shit. Humming, you watched as he removed the first hand - his fingers glistening with your slick - and drew it back between your bodies, pushing the pants he wore down so that he could do what you’d told him to.

He grunted against your skin and then you felt him move - stroking himself slowly, the man’s knuckles brushing against your back and hip. He sped up the motion of his other hand, and you glanced down, catching a glimpse of what was going on behind you - his large hand wrapped around his length, lower body pulled away from yours enough to give him the space he needed to glide easily.

You had no idea what a vampire’s release would be like - or if it would be anything at all - but before you could dwell on the thought, Oberyn’s thumb found a sweet spot again, the man pressing down against your skin before circling slowly, another prolonged suck on your shoulder making you gasp.

It was almost too much - definitely more than you’d experienced with him the first time he’d touched you, but at the same time, it was nowhere close to being enough. Will it ever be? You wondered as you forced your eyes to stay open, gaze focused on the flex of the tendons in his wrist and the way the length of him looked - tip flushed, the rest of him and his hand coated in you.

Without warning, Oberyn released your shoulder and lifted his head, and you let out a moan at what he left behind - a double set of puncture wounds on your skin, thin trails of blood oozing from them and more of the same coating his lower lip. He looked almost drunk, his eyelids heavy, and for a few seconds, you thought he was going to stay like that… but you were wrong.

“Give me your hand.” Voice low, he made the demand, Oberyn’s tongue cleaning the blood from his mouth. “Over mine.” Ducking his head, you felt as he kissed the place he bit once more, followed by the drag of his tongue, which felt almost as good as the bite itself. But you moved your hand at the same time, making a guess that he wasn’t asking for help touching you and reaching back so that you could wrap your fingers over his mid-stroke.

He grunted at your touch, and before you could question him further, it was your hand resting against his skin, Oberyn’s larger one securely atop yours and guiding you. He was warm against your palm, the heft of him large but not uncomfortable, and as you took over, Oberyn’s focus shifted back to the hand he had between your legs, the speed of those thrusts increasing, as did the pace of his thumb.

It felt amazing - better than anything that had ever been done to your body before, and Oberyn knew it, the man’s smile turning lazy as he focused on the mirror. “Normally I would prolong this,” he murmured, mouth moving along your skin. “To see how long you could remain right on the edge.” No, please. Not tonight. I just want … “But that is not what either of us needs tonight.” He sighed, mouthing at the base of your throat and then parting his lips to bite again - that time without his fangs. “Tonight you just need me.”

It was the truth - and it didn’t matter how or why he knew it, and so you nodded, swallowing and tipping your head back as you paused your hand long enough to swirl your thumb over his head, the man twitching at the touch. Squeezing once in agreement, you then resumed your movement - and Oberyn changed his, holding his fingers still inside you while the third kept moving - the pace increasing.

“Oberyn!” You cried out, your voice much louder than you’d anticipated, but it only encouraged him, the muscles in your abdomen tightening as your toes curled, Oberyn’s hand squeezing yours once more before releasing it. He moved that hand up to your chest again, the weight of his touch grounding you and holding you tight against his body. Even though your eyes snapped closed, you knew why he was touching you there - knew what he was searching for. And I hope he likes it, you thought even as your lips fell open in a series of pants, breath shaky. My fucking heart is racing, and …

“There it is,” he whispered, followed by a quiet hum of approval. “There you go.”

You fell apart moments later, your body nearly convulsing at his touch - your free hand slapping against the countertop as the one you had on him stuttered in its motion, grip tightening. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, and Oberyn kept them still, the man swearing in another language - one that you didn’t recognize before turning to kiss the underside of your jaw, the press of his lips against the pulse in your neck welcome.

He eased you through it, his touch lengthening your orgasm, but once the haze of pleasure had begun to subside, you took a deep, shaky breath and used the hand on the counter to touch his wrist, stopping the motion. Stop. Stop, Oberyn. “Let me turn around, Oberyn.”

He slipped his fingers from inside of you, but didn’t pull his hand free from beneath your sweats. You let him go long enough to turn and face him, knees wobbly and your chest heaving, but when you met his eyes, you saw understanding in them. “Are you -”

“Be quiet.” Wetting your lips, you shook your head. “Be quiet and let me take care of you now.” His eyes flashed but he didn’t speak, and when you touched him again, your grip was certain - your confidence growing with each passing second.

He crowded you against the counter again, and without thinking, you maneuvered yourself so that you were sitting on the edge of it, legs spread so that Oberyn could step between them. It gave you better access, and when you reached up with your free hand, gripping the hair at the back of his neck and urging him to kiss you, Oberyn didn’t hesitate.

It was a deep kiss, Oberyn’s tongue seeking entrance to your mouth immediately, and as he kissed you, his hips began to rock forward, the tiny thrusts forcing more of him through your grip. He held you with both hands - one of them pressed to the center of your back, the other one gripping the back of your neck and holding you in place, but despite the power behind it, his grip was gentle.

You felt his fangs again when he bit on your lower lip but he didn’t pierce the skin, and when you gasped, the sound turning into a moan moments later, Oberyn groaned too, his hips moving faster. He broke the kiss, humming out your name. “I am close. I… where do y-”

“Anywhere.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you shook your head. “Anywhere, Oberyn.” He grunted at your words but didn’t speak again, and when Oberyn kissed you hard, mouth sealed over yours, you knew that close meant imminent.

Your heart racing again, you swirled your thumb over his tip and squeezed, the speed of your hand increasing as Oberyn’s lips parted, though he didn’t pull back from you. Forcing your eyes open, you tilted your head down to stare between your bodies, twisting your wrist so that when he came, it would hit your belly - and that change was all he needed, the man pulsing in your hand as he followed you over the edge.

It coated your skin, pearly streaks hitting your stomach, the volume increasing with each stroke of your hand until he was nearly shuddering in your grip, Oberyn’s muscles twitching though he didn’t seem to have any trouble staying on his feet. “Fuck.” He swore, the sound beautiful to your ears. “You just … you are …”

“Hold that thought, Prince Oberyn.” With one more stroke - and a final squeeze - you released him, fingertips trailing up his stomach until you could press your hand over his heart. It was strange to feel nothing beneath your palm, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would have felt like - his chest rising and falling rapidly while he struggled to catch his breath, his lips parted as he sucked air between them. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s alive in all the ways that count. Your hand moved higher, fingers curling around the side of his throat and your thumb sliding over his jawline. “Ok, now you can finish.”

“I just did.” He raised an eyebrow. “All over your -” You laughed, eyes closing and your chin dropping, but when Oberyn said your name, you looked back up at him. “I know you heard me earlier, heard what I called you?” Oh, he’s … Nodding, you took a deep breath and held it. “Issa ōños, it means … it means my light. And that is what you are to me, because you’ve shown me something I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Your heart was racing, his explanation of the words much more intimate than you’d ever expected them to be. “I have?” He nodded, both of his hands slipping down toward your waist.

“The way forward. Hope. What it means to … care for someone again. I am beginning to see an end to the darkness I have lived with for so long.” You didn’t know what to say, and any of the things that crossed your mind seemed like too little - so you just leaned forward and kissed him gently, stroking the back of his head. When the kiss ended, neither of you said anything - but you didn’t separate, either, locked in place and holding each other, his forehead pressed to yours. We can’t stay here, though.

“We should get cleaned up, Oberyn. I need to lay down.” Sighing, you straightened up and looked into his eyes. “And I need to … figure out how to respond to what you just said, because -”

“No. You don’t. Not yet.” He smiled, the expression understanding. “I just wanted you to know.” The man backed off, though he was reluctant to let you go. “It is important that you know.”

He stepped away, giving you the room you needed to climb off of the counter and begin to clean up, doing the same thing beside you before pulling his pants back on. Everything he says is important. But that seems … very important. And I just … I don’t know what to think.

Luckily for you, there was plenty of time, since you had days before the engagement party and wedding, and you weren’t involved in every aspect of the attack plan. But it can wait until I wake up. You yawned, swaying on your feet as you dried your face off with a fluffy towel, but then you felt Oberyn’s arms around you again, his mouth right next to your ear. “It’s time for bed. You can barely stand.”

You didn’t argue, and only a few seconds later, you were horizontal on the comfortable mattress, the thick blanket covering you while Oberyn pressed against you from behind.

You were drowsy, and knew that it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep, but you forced yourself to speak one final time, clearing your throat without opening your eyes. “I know you won’t sleep, but I hope you get some rest.” He chuckled, his mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder. “I’ll see you when I wake up. I lo-”

You stopped yourself just in time, breath catching in your throat. Oh, no. Oh, I just almost… His arm tightened around you, Oberyn pulling you as close as he could. “I will be here.” I almost just fucked everything up. I almost ruined everything.

You were exhausted, but the racing of your heart at the near admission kept you awake for a long time. And if Oberyn noticed - which you knew that he did - he didn’t comment on it, his body still behind yours.

“You’re serious?” You looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. “Tyene? Toban? You’re telling me that -”

“Yes. We’ve all been cooped up in here for a week, and you haven’t been anywhere for almost two aside from coming here.” The girl grinned, holding out a hand. “We’re going out tonight.”

“But shouldn’t we -” You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Shouldn’t you two be worried about preparing for the wedding instead of worrying about babysitting a human? The engagement party is tomorrow, and…” Trailing off, you looked at Toban’s face, watching as he studied you. “That’s why we’re leaving.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. It’s because the party is tomorrow. “After tomorrow, we lose the element of surprise.” Tyene stepped forward, glancing at Toban. “Or at least Oberyn and Ellaria do. So between then and the wedding, things will be … harder for us. Unless we go tonight, we won’t be able to until it’s all over because they might be looking.”

“And at that point, none of us will be hiding anymore.” Toban cleared his throat, saying your name. “So tonight, the three of us are going to leave the apartment, you are going to check in with someone that you know as proof of life, and Tyene and I are going to fuel up for what is coming.”

That was code for find someone to drink from, though he was tactful about admitting it. “That’s not the only reason we’re leaving.” You smiled at her, nodding, even though you felt a pang in your chest. “But alright. Let me get changed. I don’t think I want my first time out and around people in such a long time to be in sweatpants.” She grinned, turning and leaving the room, though Toban remained, the man eyeing you curiously. “What? What did -”

“He expects you to be upset.” Frowning, Toban shook his head. “But you aren’t… at least in the way it would make sense for you to be.”

“Oberyn told me about your gift.” You stood, taking a deep breath. “And you’re right, I do feel … something right now, but … two thousand years of history between them? I’ve known him for fifteen seconds in comparison. And if this is what needs to happen so that he can focus on what’s coming, there’s no way I can be mad about it.” You chewed on your lip and then shook your head. “This isn’t a shock to me, Toban. I knew it was going to happen.If anything, I’m surprised it took this long.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead closed his eyes, nodding. He doesn’t know what to say. “How long do you need to get ready?” Toban cleared his throat. “An hour?”

“No, not even close.” Glancing around the room, you shrugged. “Twenty minutes? A half hour?” He agreed and then followed Tyene out of the room, leaving you alone. There were plenty of clothes for you to choose from, and after checking the weather on one of the TV channels, you opted for a pair of jeans and a light colored tee, pulling a cardigan over it.

From there, you moved to the vanity, sliding onto the bench seat and reaching for the small bag of toiletries that included makeup, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to put in the effort. Not like I’m trying to impress anyone.

“I have warned them that if anything happens to you, they will answer to me.”

Turning your head toward the voice, you rolled your eyes when you saw Oberyn leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You wouldn’t have agreed to let me leave this apartment if you thought something might happen.” He pushed off of the wall and moved toward where you sat, the man settling both hands on your shoulders. “It’ll be good to get outside, Oberyn, to be around other people again.”

“Are we not enough?” You thought about lying and then opted not to, setting the compact you held back down as you turned your head again to look up at him.

“It’s not that you aren’t enough. I just … I went from interacting with dozens of people every day and using all kinds of technology whenever I wanted to the confines of an apartment, no phone, and the same four faces for the last two weeks.” Aside from Clegane and Tyrion, that is. “It was a big change.”

“You’ll be back in that world full time soon enough.” He cleared his throat. “I’m … sorry that this is what your life has become. You should not have to hide here, with us. This is not your fight.”

“It is, though.” Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you shrugged. “It became my fight the second you kissed me at that party, Oberyn. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you win it.” Even if that means going out to a bar so that you can fuck the lingering effects of Ellaria’s blood from your system. “Besides, spending time with Toban and Tyene will be … interesting. I’m sure they’ll have a ton of stories to tell me, and with you and Ellaria out of earshot, they won’t have to worry about censoring themselves.”

He laughed at that but didn’t speak, his eyes on you as you applied mascara. You could see his reflection in the mirror, the man’s brow furrowed, and you wondered what it would actually take for him to speak up. I’ve never seen him like this. He twisted the ring on his thumb with two fingers, still silent when you picked up another brush - but Oberyn finally broke the silence a few seconds later, his tone full of confusion.

“You are calm. Your heartbeat is … steady.” He frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. “Yet you know what is going to happen when -”

“Oberyn.” Capping your eyeliner, you spun on the bench to face him, hands in your lap. “Yes. I know that when the three of us are gone, you and Ellaria are going to fuck.” You knew it was more than that, but being blunt was the route you chose. “You need to be clearheaded for tomorrow, and even though having the extra stamina from her blood would probably be helpful if something happens, the focus is more important.”

“Among other things.” He mumbled the words and then held a hand out, waiting for you to take it. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“Why?” He pulled you to your feet, his free hand going to your waist. “You love her, Oberyn. You haven’t seen her in a while, and this is probably the longest the two of you have ever gone in each other’s presence without jumping into bed.” Settling your hand on his chest, you said his name again. “I will never be jealous of what the two of you have. She saved your life twice that I know about, and probably countless more times between, too.” He smiled at that - just a twitch of his lips but it was there, and so you continued. “Plus, if that night in the bathroom was any indication, my pelvis and ribs wouldn’t stand a chance with you until you get that out of your system.” Arching a brow, you stared at him for a few seconds, giving your words time to land.

You hadn’t discussed what had happened between you - or what you’d almost said - after waking up, and the following few days had been filled with planning sessions, meaning that Oberyn’s attention was divided. You’d thought about it, of course, and figured that he had, too … but you knew that he had far more important things to worry about.

But those things didn’t keep him from you in the time before you went to bed each day, Oberyn taking breaks to lay with you until you’d fallen asleep, his hand stroking over the parts of your body that he could reach and the two of you trading deep, slow kisses until your eyes closed and he had the opportunity to extricate himself, heading back into the other room with Ellaria, Toban and Tyene.

You only knew this was the case because you’d woken up to an empty bed one night, the fear that he was gone filling you for long moments and only abating when you heard his voice from the other room, Toban’s joining in moments later. He’d always been in bed again when you woke up, though, the comforting weight of him beside you and his face the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

Tyrion hadn’t come back, but packages from him had arrived throughout the week - blueprints and files, a secure phone that he’d used to call your group twice - and so you knew that he was still all in. You also knew that while the actual plan was to attack just before the wedding ceremony, there were contingencies in place in case the Lannisters acted out of character and attempted anything at the party.

“You certainly did not complain about the way I was touching you the other night.” Narrowing his eyes playfully, he cocked his head to the side. “Or the way I used my hands.”

“And I never would, but Oberyn, I do enjoy walking and being able to comfortably sit in chairs and breathing without pain, so … yeah. Five or six thousand years is a lot more than two, so -” Leaning in, you kissed him on the mouth, nodding. “Yes. You do what you need to do and I’m going to go and convince Toban and Tyene to let me have a couple cheap beers and the greasiest -”

“Do you want me to stay in the other room tonight?” His hands went to your waist, all traces of humor gone from his tone. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” That threw you, and you were unable to keep your expression from changing before you got yourself under control. Oh, Oberyn.

“I’m … not sure.” Averting your eyes, you pressed your lips together. “I don’t think I’ll be able to answer that until I get back, to be honest.”

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

“Oberyn, will you please stop being annoying and let her leave?” Tyene popped her head into the room, a clear look of irritation on her face. “This isn’t the inquisition, and -” He stepped backwards, pulling you with him without looking away. But Oberyn used one hand to shove the girl back into the hallway, followed by closing the door before he pressed his back to it, two quick knocks from outside immediately following. “Two minutes, Martell. Or I’m breaking this door down, and -”

“I’ll be out in one, Tyene!” Raising your voice, you cut her off before turning your full attention to Oberyn. “I’ll see you when I get back.” You contemplated telling him to have fun, but decided against it, choosing instead to lean closer, winding your arms around his neck and tucking your head in. “In one piece, too. Maybe even a little tipsy. We’ll see.”

“We will.” He kissed the top of your head, arms snaking around your waist. “Please be careful. Stay close to them. If one of them -”

“I’ll listen to them the same way I would you.” Backing off, you nodded. “I promise. Now kiss me goodbye and let me leave, alright?” He eyed you warily, but you could see that there was pride in his eyes, too - the man staring at you in a way no one ever had before.

His kiss took you by surprise, the press of the man’s mouth gentle, even as the tips of his fingers dug into your sides. He deepened it, Oberyn swallowing your sigh as he traced his tongue along the edges of your teeth and then let it slide past them, meeting yours.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, though you could have read it as one, because you were about to walk out the front door of the apartment into an uncertain world for the first time in days. Instead, it seemed to be a promise - that even though you were leaving and he’d be going to bed with another woman that he was in love with while you were gone, he was what would be waiting when you came back. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He spoke into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Enjoy yourself.”

He took your hand and urged you away from the door, opening it and walking down the hallway to where the other three were waiting. Toban and Tyene were dressed to leave the apartment but Ellaria looked more casual - her long hair down and trailing over her shoulders, the dress she wore loose, too. She looks … beautiful.

“Alright.” Tyene clapped her hands together when she saw the two of you and then pointed at the door. “I need a damn drink, let’s get the hell out of here.” She grabbed your free hand as she passed, tugging you away from Oberyn without breaking stride. “Toban’s buying.”

Two hours later, you were ready to admit that getting out of the apartment and back into the real world was exactly what you needed.

After a short Uber ride, the three of you found yourself in Culver City - not quite close enough to your apartment to make it obvious, but in a place you were much more comfortable with than you would have been at one of the upscale downtown bars.

You’d been on edge until you finished your first drink, constantly looking around the somewhat crowded room, fingers curled protectively around the frosty glass - but when you’d seen how at ease Tyene and Toban were, you followed suit.

Your second drink went down smoothly, too, while you focused on a story that Toban was telling about the years he’d spent in Australia. But before you could order a third, the man stopped you, his hand settling on your arm. “We’re going to walk down the street to another place before we do anything else.”

“Why? Is it -”

“I believe you call this bar-hopping?” He lifted his glass, saluting with it before he finished the final sips of his beer. “And there are still enough people in costume that it’s good cover.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Plus, I think Tyene’s got her eye on someone, so we’ll have to leave once she’s done.”

The two of you watched as the girl flirted with a man near the bar, reaching up to tousle his hair while she laughed. Good for her. “What about you?” You focused on him, taking a breath. “See anyone here that you like?”

“I can wait.” He drummed his fingers on the table, looking around the room. “I need less and less to survive as time passes. It’ll be good to… renew myself, but my focus right now is on you.”

“I didn’t want this.” Shifting in your seat, you shook your head. “The last thing I want is for someone else to be responsible for me because I’m just -” A human. A weak little human who wouldn’t stand a chance against the Mountain or a vampire or something as fucking simple as getting hurt.

“I can’t speak for her,” he interrupted, gesturing to Tyene, who’d pulled the man into a kiss. “But I’m always happy to spend time with new friends.” He laid his hand atop yours, squeezing. “Especially when they’re as special as you are.”

“I’m just -”

“You’re not just anything. Not anymore.” Toban lifted his hand and held up one finger, the man nodding - and you only realized that he was signaling Tyene when his attention was fully back on you, his expression widening into a grin. “And now I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He nodded again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. “What is -”

“Choose someone you trust. Not family, if you can help it… but someone that you can have a conversation with. Talk for a few minutes, and then invite them out. Invite them to meet us at a random place around here. Are you familiar with the area?”

“Yeah.” You took the phone, turning it over in your hand. “Is there anywhere I should avoid?”

“No. Tyene can hear what you say. She’ll head to wherever you suggest next once she finishes with her friend and wait to see if anyone … else shows up before we do. Enhanced everything is an asset to us. And when we know it’s safe, you and I will head there, too.”

“Is this dangerous? I don’t want to risk it if … This was great. I don’t need to -”

“I heard what you said to Oberyn earlier. You need the interaction. You need to see a friendly human face.” He leaned closer. “You need more than any of us can give you right now.” He was right - and you knew it, so with a tiny nod of agreement, you averted your eyes and dialed a number you knew by heart.

It rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, you closed your eyes, grinning. “Nora? It’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you back. Want to meet for a drink?”

Tag list reblogs coming soon!

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #oberyn x female reader #the red viper #the prince of dorne #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell vampire au #game of thrones au #modern oberyn au #cowritten with rachael #something tofightfor #aphelion #aphelion masterlist #oberyn martell masterlist

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redahlia-writes · 2 years

Text

little prince. | oberyn martell x f!reader

part 2

Abstract: “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers.”

Words: 5K

Content (warnings): MINORS DNI, this is straight up smut, reader is described as having long hair, implied ellaria x reader at some point (gay rights), bantering, cursing, oberyn being oberyn, slightly sub/dom dynamic (sub!oberyn but he complains about it lovingly), face sitting, multiple orgasms, a couple of pet names, mentions of bruises, flirting. a lot, hints of power play, an attempt at dirty talk on my part, oberyn may or may not have a praise kink + a lot of descriptions, unedited

A/N: i have no justification for this. horniest thing i’ve ever written probably. shout-out to @luvpedropascal for supporting me during this mammoth's creation

also on AO3 - masterlist

The Red Viper looked at you as if he were an apex predator.

If the years in Dorne had taught you anything it was that Oberyn Martell liked to test everyone’s limits - you were not exempt from it, even in spite of your friendship with him. If anything, he seemed to be spurred on by it, knowing you would not restrain yourself to not offend the prince.

He liked it, toying with you, with your patience - and he knew that if you truly disliked it, he’d be reduced to shreds by the sharpness of your tongue, royalty and friendship forgotten. He’d seen you reduce lords to babbling messes with a single sentence.

Truth be told, he liked that kind of power. And it amused him, that layer of irreverence you reserved for most, if not all.

So he sat at the same desk as you in an empty library, leaning back in his chair while looking at you, his usual, all too familiar grin plastered on his face and his robe hanging open over his chest as always. Waiting.

And you knew you shouldn’t have taken the bait - but it was terribly difficult to focus on the book sitting in front of you when he’s just staring so openly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you sighed at last, forcing your gaze up. His grin grew as he met it, shifting forward in his seat.

“No, I’m perfectly fine,” he mused, voice low and collected. “Is my presence too distracting, my Lady?” he asked then, cocking his head to the side. You smiled in mock politeness, smoothing your hand across the page.

“Trust me, your Highness, it takes more than that to disrupt my peace,” it was a lie - his mere presence was enough to make your focus waver, words blurring together like a bunch of nonsense.

He scoffed lightly as you returned your gaze onto the page, an attempt at bringing your focus back onto the story - it felt close to impossible, the prince’s eyes burning on your skin, the rustle of his robes as he shifted in his seat.

“You know,” he started again, and you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment with a long sigh, then tilting your chin up to look back up at him, an eyebrow arched, “it’s usually common courtesy to strike up conversation when you’re the only other person in the room.”

“This is a library - conversation is not part of the ambience,” you retorted, leaning with your elbows onto the desk as a faux pout appeared on your mouth - his eyes fell to your lips, just for a split second. “If you so desperately crave the sound of someone’s voice perhaps you could walk outside. I’m sure there are plenty of people awaiting just a modicum of attention from their prince.”

Oberyn leaned forward, an imitation of your stance with his elbows resting on the table and one hand supporting his chin.

“Am I to assume you do not include yourself with these people?” his voice held a note of mock offense, a lazy, sultry smile bending his lips.

“But I’m receiving plenty of attention, am I not?” you mimicked his grin, resting then a hand on your chest. “I wouldn’t want to be the one keeping you from your other loyal subjects, your Highness.”

“So thoughtful,” he mused, leaning a little closer. He reached over, hooked one finger underneath the lock of hair that curled over your shoulder and across your collarbone, knuckle brushing your skin as his gaze never faltered. Slowly, he brought the silky strand up to his nose, licking his lips before inhaling deeply. “So sweet,” he murmured, his voice still low.

You looked at him, breath caught in your throat as you watched him coiling your hair around his finger, gaze dropping from your face to your hands splayed across the book. Silence fell again in the room, interrupted only by the rushing of your heartbeat you were sure he could hear.

Time stretched as he lazily played with your hair, letting his gaze wander over you - it was not the first time he did so. Even in your first encounter, before he suggested you went to Dorne for the shelter and freedom you needed, he’d never held himself back - the only difference was that you’d learned not to fluster at his attention.

It drove him insane - how you just looked at him, concealing any reaction.

“Alright,” he hummed, letting go of you and getting up, slow, motions like those of a cat. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your reading any longer, my Lady,” he lingered, fingers trailing up your arm - in his wake, goosebumps rose, but you simply tilted your head to look up at him. He leaned in, carefully, the tip of his nose brushing yours for a split second as he searched your gaze. “You ought to know, I’m a patient man.”

“Are you?” you almost mocked, his breath caressing your face. “Is that how you plan to bed me, your Highness?” you teased, voice sweetened as you arched your eyebrows to soften your gaze. He wavered - for just a moment, lust darkening his eyes before he chuckled.

“No,” he spoke slowly, hand resting to the side of your neck, thumb reaching up underneath your chin, applying just a little pressure to tip your head back. “I want you to come willingly, my lady.”

You lingered there just a moment longer, lips parted, gaze unwavering until he let go of you.

“I’ll see you around, Oberyn.”

—

Later on, sitting in Ellaria’s room with her head in your lap, you could still feel your chest burning. She was laughing, asking whatever you did to Oberyn in the afternoon.

“What makes you believe I did anything?” you retorted in a grumble. Her eyes shimmered with amusement, shifting a little so that she could meet your gaze.

“You’re the only one who gains such reactions from him,” she chuckled, eyebrows arching. You scoffed while Ellaria’s hand rose to wrap around your wrist, drawing slow circles on your wrist. “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.

With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers,” after a moment, she moved into a seated position, turning to look at you with amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “I’ve had you,” she added, voice lowered, “more than once.”

“You asked nicely,” you responded, sweetness seeping through your voice. “He’s pestering me - and he’s vexing, presumptuous -”

“You like him,” she interrupted you, and under her hand your heart jumped again. “You like it,” she teased, the laughter still roughening her voice.

“I’d like it more if someone taught him some manners,” you hummed, and couldn’t help mimicking her own grin as she let go of your wrist to pinch your chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding you closer.

“I thought you liked a challenge, sweet one,” she murmured, free hand inching up across your leg draped with the fabric of your dress as her smirk widened. “And it’s something I’d really like to see.”

—

You knew he’d be waiting before you even opened the door to your room.

“I used to come here often when you first arrived,” Oberyn spoke from your balcony before you could even close the door behind you. “Do you remember?”

“I remember you used to knock,” you responded, closing the door behind you and crossing the room to rest the vase of flowers you were holding after discarding the shoes by the door - you could feel his eyes on you as he leaned against the window frame, following your every movement.

“Ellaria was always here, too,” he continued, ignoring your remark and crossing his arms. “It bothered me to no end that I never seemed to get you alone.”

You laughed, quick and sharp, shaking your head as you fixed the flowers before turning to him. The sunset light shone on the side of his face, of his dark hair, reflecting in his dilated pupils. His robe was looser than usual, with no weapon on his side, and you let your gaze wander over his body.

“What happened to you being a patient man, your Highness?” you mocked, resting your hip against the desk, one hand placed on the wooden surface as you tilted your head. “To wanting me to come willingly?”

Oberyn stepped inside the room, his gaze never leaving you as he walked the short distance between you, stopping once at arm’s length.

“I have been patient,” he pointed out, eyes dropping to the neckline of your dress shamelessly. “Haven’t you been here for years now?”

“I thought you’d asked me to come to Dorne to help me,” you retorted, a hand reaching for your chest as if to feign upset. “Has this been your intention all along, prince Oberyn?”

“No, of course not,” despite the lightness of your tone, sincerity flickered in his gaze - reminding you why this was happening. Why you’d gone to Dorne. Why Oberyn’s closeness was welcomed. “But you’ve been toying with me, haven’t you?” he continued, diminishing the gap between the two of you. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged lightly, watching his eyes light up - ever so slowly he reached up, knuckles brushing across your jaw. “It is fun, watching you hanker.”

“I’m not,” he countered, and you couldn’t help grinning, his hand moving to cup your cheek - his palm was warm against your skin, and you reached up to take hold of his wrist, thumb stroking the heel of his hand.

“No?” you tilted your head just a little, leaning into his touch, eyebrows arching as you lowered your voice furthermore. “Then what are you doing in my room, little prince?”

The name had an effect on him straight away, breath itching in his throat as the tip of his tongue darted between his lips to wet them, hand twitching slightly while he reached through your hair - the gold ring on his thumb rested on your temple, its bite cold.

“I was just passing by,” he mumbled, voice hoarse as he almost fully closed the gap between the two of you, held back only by your hands resting on his lower abdomen. He glanced down to where your fingers curled slightly, crumpling the robe slightly.

“Thought of striking up conversation?” you offered, batting your eyelashes in a show of pretend meekness.

Oberyn knew you wouldn’t cave - that you’d stand there the whole night if needed, waiting for him to crumble under your gaze. And the thing was that he would. With your hands slowly riding up his chest, fingers barely brushing past the hem of his robe, he felt himself starting to unravel.

“No, not exactly,” he said instead, both hands now at each side of your face to bring you closer - not harsh, but demanding, crashing his mouth on yours.

You felt your knees buckle under the force of his kiss, grabbing his robe for stability as he parted his lips, tongue swiping across your bottom lip until you opened your mouth for him with a quiet moan.

The noise was enough to make him grin against you, one hand moving back to cup the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you backed him away from the desk, hand slowly moving up his exposed chest until you were grazing his throat with your nails, a delicate scratch that made him shudder.

He moved slightly back only when you were both breathless, hot pants rolling over your face as he placed his hands on your shoulders, taking hold of your dress to slide it down your arms and torso. He looked down as the fabric slipped down and rested against your hips, exposing your skin and chest to him, a choked back groan coming from his throat as he bowed his head.

Before he could latch his lips to your skin, you stopped him, the hand at his throat rising up to cup his chin, fingers gently pushing against his jaw.

“Nuh-uh,” you chastised, voice low and raspy as you squeezed his cheeks, his mouth hanging slightly open due to the pressure. “Undress yourself first.”

His pupils dilated, the clear order making his inside twist. Yet he remained still, eyes running from your face down to your half-naked body - he reached over to tug on the loose fabric hanging over your hips.

In response you gave another squeeze to his cheeks, a little harsher, pulling his face closer to yours as you moved forward - enough so that you could step your leg between his, the fabric of your dress rustling as you dragged your knee up his inner thigh - up to his growing bulge, applying a light pressure with your own thigh against it that had his eyes roll to the back of his head with another groan, barely held in check.

“Have I not made myself clear?” you whispered against his mouth, easing the hold on his face as his breath became slightly ragged, unfocused eyes searching for your own. “Undress yourself,” he let his hands drop from you, inhaling slowly as he reached for the know of his robe, meeting your gaze at last. You gave him a quick grin that he felt over his lips. “What is it, little prince? You don’t like being told what to do?”

Oberyn didn’t reply, tugging almost harshly at the knot of his robe until it came undone and he was able to slip it off, letting it fall absentmindedly to the floor. Standing bare-chested, he started kicking off his shoes as you moved back to let your gaze roam across his chiseled torso, head slightly tilted and hand moving down his throat.

“See something you like?” there was still a grin in his voice, your eyes flicking back up towards his.

You slowly let your hand travel down his chest, abdomen, fingers slipping just slightly past the waistband of his slacks, tugging him close again from there. A surprised moan escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help the small smile spreading across your face.

Oberyn’s eyes were shimmering as he leaned forward, almost tentatively, tongue darting between his lips to wet them once more before kissing you, open mouthed and deep, hands reaching to grab your hips right away. You let him stay there, his fingers kneading your sides as he stepped closer, pressing his body flush against yours.

He was warm and solid, muscles shifting at each of his movements, chest against chest as your own hands moved up across his body, shoulders, the back of his head until you were burying your fingers in his hair. When his hands moved underneath your dress, an attempt at pushing it down all the way, you tugged on his locks a little, breaking off the kiss with a groan from him.

“You’re still dressed,” you pointed out, chest heaving with the shortness of your breath. You relished in this feeling, the prince like clay in your hands, his eyes unfocused as he looked at you. “How impatient,” you chided with a mock pout.

“Ellaria never told me you were a vixen,” the laughter fell from your lips before you could stop it, your hands still buried in his hair as he went to push his slacks off. “There. Satisfied, my lady?” he was grinning, eyes still blazing as he watched you tilt your head to the side just slightly, looking down on him with a low hum.

“And what did Ellaria tell you, little prince?” dropping one hand from his head to his shoulder, you slowly traced the planes of his skin with the tip of your fingers as you stepped forward - so close he was forced to take a half step back, and then another, following your lead as you took your time exploring him, eyes back up to meet his gaze.

His cock, brushing your lower stomach, twitched at the name, a groan slipping past his lips as he hit the bed with the back of his legs. After a moment he sat down, legs spread to guide you between his thighs with his hands resting again on your hips, lightly teasing the gathered fabric of the dress.

“May I?” so unlike him, he asked, giving a light tug to the dress without having it shift. You bit your lip then, nodding as you traced the line of his jaw with your index, feeling it twitch in the wake of your touch as he pushed down your dress all the way, gaze lowered to your breasts, stomach, navel - still he did not touch you, palms ghosting your upper thighs as he shifted in his seat.

“You’re a fast learner,” with the praise, you swept your thumb across his bottom lip, slowly, from one corner to the other and back again, watching as his jaw fell slack again and he looked up at you through hooded eyes.

Oberyn wrapped his reddened lips around your finger, teeth barely grazing the pad as he sucked slowly on it, cheeks hollowing while his touch became firmer on your thighs, pushing in the flesh to guide you forward as he leaned back.

One hand placed on his shoulder for balance, you climbed on top of him, hovering his lap as he gazed up at you, lips parting when you pressed your thumb against his tongue. You felt the tip of his cock grazing your inner thigh as his hand rose slowly over your thighs.

He moved his head back, letting your finger slip from his mouth before leaning in, simultaneously spreading his hands over your back to push you closer, lips latching to your neck. With a quiet sigh and your eyes fluttering shut, you tilted your head back, granting him more space as he nibbled, bit and sucked on your skin.

When he was sure there would be a visible mark, he started trailing kisses down across your collarbones, sternum, chest, lingering for a moment to nip gently both breasts, gaining a low whimper for each, your breath quickening.

The prince was an attentive lover - kissing every inch of skin he managed to reach as he kept leaning back and back, bringing you forward until he was lying down and you were hovering his chest, hand resting over his on your thighs again.

“Want you up here, sweet one,” his voice was husky, holding an eager note as he tipped his chin slightly up, nudging you forward. With a sly grin you looked down at him, lowering yourself almost in a seated position on his chest as you cocked your head to the side. “Please,” he added, voice strained.

“See?” you hummed, shifting up until you were hovering his face, one hand coming down to brush his hair back as he turned his head a little to kiss your inner thigh. “You learn fast.”

With your knees at each side of his head, Oberyn’s arms came up to wrap around your thighs, hands slowly stroking the back of it as he kept kissing up your inner thigh, lifting his head a little to press one quick peck to your core.

You looked down at him, his eyes dark and shimmering as he pushed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, guiding you down onto his mouth, lips parted. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your folds then, the first taste of you having him groan - it went up straight through you, making your eyes flutter shut for a moment and head fall forward.

Tugging a little onto his hair, hand still buried deep between his locks, you returned your gaze to his face, rocking your hips slowly against his mouth, following the movements of his tongue as he lapped at you like a starved man, noises muffled by your skin.

You felt it build quickly, the coil in your stomach twisting and twisting each time the tip of his nose brushed your clit, or when he moved his head to regain his breath a few instants only to return his tongue in, over, drawing small circles, low groans that shot vibrations right up into your core and spurred you on, chasing your release.

Each of your whimpers had his grip on your legs tighten, the sound making his hips buck, shifting his position and you with him for a few instants. You felt him shudder beneath you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head again and a moan rippling from his throat.

It forced you to stillness, trembling against him as you came undone on his mouth, trembling thighs at the side of his head as he kept you down on him, eyes burning into yours even as your vision swayed. Only when you let go of his hair, body spasming and a weak cry leaving your mouth did he let go, helping you off of him.

“So sweet,” he muttered, tongue darting between his lips. “And those noises you make,” his voice was hoarse as he laid you down - his mouth glistened, lips full and red as he reached one hand to stroke your side, goosebumps following the wake of his touch up to your ribcage, breasts, your chest still heaving as you regained your breath. “Could make anyone come undone,” he added, almost a growl at the back of his throat.

Grinning, you moved your own hand down his chest, his stomach, looking down on him and his own release painting his amber skin. Oberyn didn’t seem to care, simply arching towards your touch as you gathered some on the tip of your fingers.

Just as he leaned in to kiss you, lips parted, you brought your hand up, meeting his gaze - he held it, a moment longer, then slowly lowered his head to wrap his lips around your fingers, never breaking eye contact as he sucked them off.

There was a low pop when you pulled your hand back, only to push yourself up and kiss the taste of both of you off his mouth, a low moan muffled between your lips before you pushed him on his back again, allowing yourself space to kiss down his neck, his chest.

Oberyn’s hand came to rest onto the back of your head, stroking your hair slowly as he looked down onto you shifting lower and lower, drawing lazy lines with your kisses across his chest, until you reached his stomach. A hiss left his lips as you trailed your tongue over his skin, licking him clean - his hips bucked up again, hand fisting into your hair, and as he tilted his head back he caught a glimpse of your half-hidden smirk.

He gasped when you nibbled his hip, one hand resting on his thighs for support while the other reached up to stroke his still half-hard length, fingers not fully wrapped around him in a too-delicate touch for him.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, tugging your hair a little without hurting you - just to make you look up, abandoning the red mark blooming on his side.

“Why not?” you batted your eyelashes at him, still stroking him slowly, grip firmer but still not enough for him. “I thought you enjoyed it, little prince.”

The name made him twitch in your grasp, and with an almost frustrated groan he pulled your head back, pushing you down and rolling on top of you to pin you down, eyes darkening all over again. Still, you smiled up at him, gaze momentarily lowered to where his hips pressed against your hand.

He hovered over you, and met your gaze once you looked up at him, moving your legs at each side of him. He settled between your thighs, hips shifting lightly as you guided him towards your entrance - a low sigh left your lips when you dragged the tip of his cock across your folds, rubbing then the wetness across his length.

“Still teasing,” he warned softly, lowering himself so that his lips just barely brushed yours. “You’re right, I am impatient.”

“You haven’t told me what you want yet,” though breathlessly, there was a light mocking tone in your voice, smirk not falling from your lips as you trailed your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. “You’ve been so good, Oberyn. What do you want?” he shifted forward, and was forced to stillness as you locked your knees at his sides. “Words.”

Had anyone ever ordered him around like this before, he wondered? If so, had he ever enjoyed it like this? He looked into your eyes and felt himself lured in by the utter power you held over him, and by how much you thrived in it.

“I want to hear those pretty sounds again,” he hummed, moving his hips back a little, the friction of your hand still wrapped loosely around him making him choke back a moan. “Want to feel you fall apart around me, sweet one,” he added, leaving an oddly delicate kiss at the corner of your mouth as your lips bent in a wider smile, knees loosening around him.

“All you had to do was ask,” you whispered, thumb stroking his cheek as you moved your head to kiss him, arching up to meet him.

“Ask nicely?” he attempted to ask it mockingly, but as he shifted his hips forward, pushing inside you achingly slowly, his voice cracked.

You would have laughed if not for the air leaving your lungs, mouth falling open as he moved forward and forward and forward, stretching you out somewhere between painful and ecstatic. Your breath coming out in short, shattered bursts spurred him on until his hips were pressed flush against yours, forehead against forehead as you both attempted to regain your breath.

He waited an heartbeat longer, one hand moving underneath your thigh to keep you up as he met your lips again for a kiss as hungry as the first one, desperately capturing each little moan, whine and mewl as he shifted.

Pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hips snapping against yours harshly, Oberyn's own breath grew ragged - the cry falling from your mouth scratched your throat, and you gripped the back of his head, guiding his lips down to your neck.

He’d asked to hear you, and you did not hold back. Each thrust a breath, a moan, a groan, chasing your release more than his own as he kissed down your chest, now littered with marks that burned with each of his sharp breaths.

You rolled your hips to meet him halfway, causing him to still for a moment with a string of curses against the skin of your neck as he twitched somewhere deep inside of you, the grip on your hips tightening - you could already feel the bruises forming on your skin, welcomed them.

He straightened up, the air hitting your skin causing you to shiver just slightly, watching through hooded eyes as he grabbed a pillow and pushed it underneath your lifted hips, slowly easing you down before pushing fully into you once more. The knew angle had you yelping, hand wrapping around his arm as you threw your head back.

“Fuck - so good,” the praise became a soft chant of his name as he picked up the pace again, deep and fast, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at each thrust. “Oh, fuck,” keening, you placed one hand on your lower belly.

You could feel him there, moving inside of you, and when he placed his own hand over yours, pushing down gently, the pressure became so overwhelming it made you clamp your legs at his sides, fluttering around him as your eyes fluttered shut, vision swaying.

“Go on, sweet one,” his breath ragged, voice low and hoarse, Oberyn leaned in just a little, hand pushing lower and thumb ghosting the apex of your core. “Let go.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a plea, his own rhythm faltering as he rubbed quick circles over your clit, effectively pushing you into your second orgasm, the wave of it so strong it made your thighs shaking violently at his sides as you quickly grabbed his wrist with a loud cry, halting the motions of his hand.

Oberyn kept up his movements, stuttering hips as he returned both hands on your hips, keeping you steady. As you felt yourself float away, you locked your legs around him, pushing him flush against you just as he toppled over, a loud moan ripping from his throat - he twitched inside of you, warmth causing another, gentler orgasm to make you shiver.

He fell on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your ruffled hair as you wrapped your arms around him too - for a while, the only sound in the room was that of your ragged breaths.

“You still with me, little prince?” you murmured, turning your head to press a ridiculously chaste kiss to his temple. He nodded, muttering something unintelligible, still hidden against you. Slowly, you reached up to run your hand through his hair, soft caresses that had him melt furthermore against you.

“All I had to do was ask?” he managed to say after a few moments of quiet, just trying to recover your breaths. You chuckled, the motion causing you to tense slightly still around him before reaching for his face blindly, guiding his head up with your fingers lazily wrapped around his jaw, thumb underneath his chin.

“Such a fast learner,” you hummed, pulling him down into a kiss, slow and intense.

“I do like being told what to do,” he whispered through soft breaths then, his hand lazily tracing the curve of your collarbones, up your neck and throat. “Only when it’s you, sweet one.”

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thosewickedlovelies · 1 year

Text

Messenger Bird | Oberyn Martell x afab!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Your flight path finally brings you to the bedchamber of the Prince of Dorne

Tags: SMUT: oral (f recieving), unprotected PiV sex, mention of bondage; Ellaria is in bed with yous but I wouldn’t necessarily call this a threesome; reader vaguely describes themself as being less experienced than Oberyn but I don’t think that should exclude many people lol

Word count: 5,991

Note: This fic is inspired solely by a scene in @radiowallet‘s fabulous Oberyn fic, to which I responded "10/10 would be the person who ends up in bed with Oberyn because he answers the door with his dick out 🤷🏻‍♀️”

This is like, a roughly canon au where Oberyn and Ellaria are married and the regents of Dorne. It's also mostly PWP, so. enjoy lmao <3

Masterlist

“There are few good reasons to be disturbing a prince this early-”

The door opens-

“-but there is one reason I am generally inclined to forgive.”

-and the first thing you see is Prince Oberyn’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

You gape, stupefied. Though cast in bronze, not iron, the wholly naked body of the Prince of Dorne seizes your attention like a magnet. All of your good sense screams at you to avert your gaze, but how can you?

His hand, and the length it grips, are both shiny, smudged with damp. Is it the same fluid beading at the tip of his cock?

Or has it a different source? In the background you hear sheets rustling, and a familiar feminine voice drawling.

“Oberyn darling, you know what your advisors say about answering the door in your skin.”

The prince’s eyes had widened infinitesimally upon seeing you, surprise and delight flaring for a split second. That hand moved- up and down, ever so slightly. The faintest motion, just enough to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Something secretive sparkled in Oberyn’s eyes, just barely curled the corners of his full mouth. “What my advisors say, and what our little raven’s face says are two very different things, my love.”

“Oh?”

You wrench your gaze back up to Oberyn’s face, eyes wide. Heat prickles and swarms over your skin. Your tongue has dried up in your mouth, leaving you quite unable to address Princess Ellaria even had you retained the wits to.

“What are you doing up so early, my little messenger bird? Surely there cannot be any urgent demands of me with the day barely dawned?”

Emboldened, Oberyn leans more comfortably against the door frame, titling his head as he awaits your response. He continues to tug on his cock, an almost idle motion- except his pace is decidedly deliberate. His dark eyes gleam.

Oh, gods, what could you say? That you’d been driven mad by your own need? That there was an itch under your skin which nothing could satisfy, one that had only grown stronger since the bloom of summer and the carelessly revealing fashions Dorne and its prince preferred?

The truth was that you’d barely finished your tea this morn, anticipating that indeed, there should be no important messages for the prince this early, when the Maester’s bark had startled you to wakefulness. Now the small scroll he’d given you was all but crushed in your fist, and doubtless sweat-stained besides.

Mutely, you lift your hand. Small mercies- the tiny seal closing the parchment hadn’t cracked in your grip.

Oberyn measures you for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Scoffing, he takes the scroll from you, releasing his cock with clear displeasure.

A faint breeze blows past you through the open door. It carries the distant murmur of waves crashing, and the ever-present scents of salt and oleander. Silk hangings above the bed sway, glimmering in the rich, fiery colors of the Martell family, tassels fluttering.

Oberyn’s fingers are still wet. They leave fingerprint smudges where he adjusts his grip on the paper. His cock bobs with the faint shifting of his body, his eyes narrowing as he reads. Taking advantage of his distraction, you risk a longer look at the utterly bare body of Oberyn Martell.

Stripped of his usual flowing robes, the prince somehow appears taller. Every part of him is long and lean, rangy muscles stretched along his shapely frame. Despite his frequent act as the long-suffering hedonist forced to rule, there is a sharp intelligence about him- a calculating mind turning beneath hair often mussed by sleep, sex, or spearwork.

His cock is as long and sturdy as he is. As bronze, too. A trim thatch of hair curls neatly around the base, climbing up and stopping teasingly short of his navel. You wonder if the prince sunbathes nude, to achieve such uniformly sun-dipped skin. The moisture coating the hair and skin of his groin shimmers and winks, scattering your thoughts, and you swallow thickly.

You look up again, but you’d lingered too long- Oberyn is watching you already, his mouth curved up the slightest bit.

He drops the parchment carelessly to the floor. “Tell me true, now, messenger bird. It is only unfortunate happenstance that has kept us from meeting in my bedchamber before now, yes?”

If before there was mischief in his eyes, now it is tempered by a clear, hard demand for truth. Of all the whispers throughout the palace of the prince’s exploits, one unquestionable feature was always present: Oberyn didn’t take unwilling lovers. One entered his bed out of desire, not obligation.

You allow your professional façade to thaw, shaking yourself free of the shock and focusing on the other feelings that the prince always inspired. Delight. Desire. Hunger.

“Yes, my prince.” You dip your head coyly, lashes fluttering.

Oberyn’s smile is that of one who has just learned his long-laid plans have come to fruition- and he intends to savor the results.

“Would you like to come in now? I hope you will not mind my wife’s presence- it is the princess’s bed too, you understand.”

Oberyn steps back in invitation, opening the door wider for you. That hardness has not completely left his eyes- there is flint to it, an almost-challenge sparking.

But your attention is no longer on the prince.

His movement has revealed the princess, still abed behind him. Ellaria has turned on her side toward the door, supported by a cushion pulled to her chest. The fact that it covers the delicate parts of her otherwise bare torso is plainly more by accident than design- the outer curve of her right breast is clearly visible, tan skin an obvious contrast against the orchid-purple silk of the pillow. Her slim frame is barely a ripple in the sheets of the enormous bed, yet her presence commands- no eye could resist her allure. Your lips part.

Ellaria smiles lazily, hooded eyes shimmering with laughter at the knowledge between you.

“I can think of little I would mind less, my lord.” Ellaria’s reaction warms you, inspires a bit more confidence, and you manage to stand a little straighter as you enter the room.

Oberyn glances between you and his wife. “Have I missed something?” he inquires.

The door closes, and then you’re aware of Oberyn behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from all of his bare flesh.

Your mouth goes dry again. If Ellaria was the encouraging warmth of an arm around the shoulders, Oberyn was heat- mercurial as a desert wind. A temperature vacillating on the cusp of dangerous.

Thankfully, Ellaria seems immune to Oberyn’s effect. “I’m afraid our sweet messenger bird made a rather…special delivery to me last week, while you were otherwise occupied, my prince.”

“My heart! You did not tell me?” You can feel Oberyn puffing up behind you, his tone full of indignance.

The princess presses her lips together, clearly stifling amusement. “It was entirely too brief an affair, in honesty. Everything was busy during that period- it must have simply slipped my mind. Truly, I’m sorry, my love.” Her dark eyes shine, but the apology is sincere. Sweet and simple as sugared almonds.

“Hmmm.” Oberyn’s considering hum rumbles through you, like the purr of a great cat. “This morn is my turn, then. After that we will be even.”

You jump at the brush of his hands on your waist. The prince was out of sight behind your back, and his touch was a surprise that sent gooseflesh rippling over you.

“How does that sound, sweet bird? Will you let me ravish you like such a one as lovely as you deserves to be ravished? Will you share a morning of pleasure with your prince?” Oberyn lowers his voice to a deep rasp in your ear; he toys with the raven-black sash of your messenger’s uniform, but does not loosen it.

Your body tightens and warms from top to toe. Ellaria has not taken her eyes off you; her gaze scorches like a fresh coal in a warming pan.

“I would be honored, my prince.”

It would be a lie to say you weren’t nervous. There were rumors, of course, of the prince’s inclinations in the bedchamber. If nothing else, his experience far surpassed your own; he liked things to go his way, but this, at least, would suit you fine.

Finally, Oberyn pulls free the tie of your sash. He draws it off your shoulders, but then, still holding it, comes to stand in front of you. The gather of fabric is just enough to block your view of his sex.

“You must promise me one thing, Bird. You will tell me, if we veer too close to anything you do not want. Any activity, any place on that lovely body. I do not force things on my companions.

“I am a man of many desires, but among them will never be thus. I am your prince, not your master.” Oberyn holds your gaze.

A fragment of uncertainty still holding tight in your chest dissipates. “I understand. I promise, my prince.”

Those obsidian eyes soften slightly. “You may use my name.”

You hesitate. Even your fantasies had not dared to dream of such familiarities. “I promise…Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn smiles then, a wide, pleased expression. He tosses your sash to the side, revealing his cock still proud and alert. He moves closer, and you’re reminded of the great cats that stalk the mountains in the north of Dorne- all sleek, bunching muscles and a singular focus on the object of their hunt. In this moment, you suppose that would make you the prey. It’s a dizzying, thrilling thought: that the prince of Dorne, the Viper himself, seeks you.

As his hands seek your jaw now, sliding along your skin with the slowness of one who knows well the effect his touch has. Oberyn cradles your face in his hands, lifting your chin, your mouth- a cup from which he intends to drink deep. His breath brushes your lips, syrupy with the taste of wine.

Oberyn’s dark eyes bore into your face. “Sweet bird,” he murmurs. His rasp is the last thing you hear before his mouth touches yours, and then your head fills with wind. Blood rushing and roaring in your ears, blotting out all other sensation but Oberyn’s mouth, full and soft and confident, urging you to follow his motions, guiding you into his world of sensual wonder.

And you follow willingly. You part your lips to the prince’s tongue, and relish the confidence with which he slips inside, weaving layers of sensation into the kiss.

Oberyn still holds your face to his. His hands span the entire length of your jaw, and they are not idle: his fingertips stroke and massage in small motions, sending tingles down your neck, pleasure rippling through you like wind through tall grass. You become aware, suddenly, of Oberyn’s body- it’s easing gradually closer to your own, the entire burning mass of it sending heat through your clothes, like leaning against the chimney of a great hearthfire. You inhale sharply.

The prince withdraws from your kiss. He studies your wide, dreamstruck eyes, your lips, now appropriately kiss-swollen. Smirking, he looks to Ellaria for approval. His wife’s gaze travels down your body.

“I didn’t get to see her last time.” The princess pouts. “Undress her for me, darling?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Oberyn returns his attention to you. “Yes?” His hands skate meaningfully down your back, to the laces of your dress.

“Yes,” you answer, and his hands are already working. “-to both.”

Oberyn laughs once, loud and bright with surprise. “Careful, sweet bird, or I will think you are here only to steal my wife from me.”

Ellaria’s eyes sparkle. “Sweet words from a sweet bird, indeed.” She shifts to lie more comfortably, relocating her long fall of curls with the sweep of a practiced hand. The cushion is carelessly adjusted, and then her right breast is fully visible, as pert and lovely as you only briefly glimpsed during your meeting.

Ellaria faintly smirks at your expression, but a moment later you are both distracted. Your gown sags in the familiar shapelessness of undone laces, and Oberyn is quick to take advantage. He traces the exposed skin up your spine, and you arch at his touch, your lungs filling. You move to help him remove the gown, but he stops you.

“Slowly, now,” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Give the princess something to long for.”

He draws your dress slowly down your shoulders, and you mark the speed. As slow and languorous as a drizzle of honey pools on a cake. Your heart beats fast. You have never made a performance of undressing for a lover- surely the lovemaking itself ought to be the show?

But as you grip the bodice of your dress, lowering it with exaggerated slowness, pulling the fabric tight to emphasize your breasts about to spill free- you think you understand. Ellaria’s gaze rivets to your chest, growing hungrier the longer you and Oberyn take to bare you. What is a main act, after all, without the opening scenes?

Your own hunger rises as you witness Ellaria’s. You finally lower the gown to bare your breasts entirely, but Oberyn’s hands immediately cover them. You gasp. His movement was unexpected…and very distracting. A small sound of pleasure breaks from you as the prince’s callused hands massage the tender flesh in a way that feels entirely deliberate. Knowledgeable. Like he knows exactly what this will do- this squeeze, this twist of your nipple, this-

“Keep going,” Oberyn purrs.

-this command, given in his sensual rasp.

Between the prince at your back and the princess to your front, you have nowhere to hide. No way to. Everywhere you are confronted with something that stokes the flame of desire steadily growing within you.

Oberyn had told you to keep going. One by one, you free your arms from their sleeves, letting the morning sun play on your skin, the sea breeze raise the fine hairs. The prince’s hands continue to massage your breasts, exploring every dip and curve of your torso as your gown drops further. Finally it’s at your hips, and without any extra encouragement you push it down to pool around your feet.

Wearing nothing but the morning light, you stand before the regents of Dorne.

Or you try to- Oberyn has molded himself to your back, mouthing at your neck, and suddenly your knees struggle to hold you upright.

Any self-consciousness you thought you’d feel fades away as you turn in Oberyn’s arms to kiss him, and are welcomed eagerly. The prince rewards your initiative with an approving groan, hauling you to him, encouraging you to get as close as you wish. Every inch of him is firm with muscle, standing sturdy against your desperate grasping. You can’t decide what to reach for first- you want to touch all of him.

Especially the burning length trapped between your hips. You reach for it, and Oberyn lets out another low sound of pleasure, breaking your kiss as you tip your head down to watch yourself touch him.

Oberyn wraps his hand around yours, stilling your motions. “Patience, Bird.” His eyes dance, warm and amused. “We have plenty of time. I think the princess is getting lonely, yes?”

He herds you gently toward the bed, where Ellaria is indeed waiting, with something like envy on her face.

What could she possibly have to be envious of? The princess had no reason to suffer such an emotion. She could end this, remove you from her husband’s arms, with but a word.

What you don’t see, as Oberyn's handful of your rear interferes with your tentative climb into the bed, is that Ellaria’s gaze is not on the prince, but on you.

Your elbows buckle and you squeak.

“Hurry up, or I will assume you wish to be kept in this position,” Oberyn growls from behind you- from over you. He has clambered over your back, draping himself over you and planting his hands on your wrists.

His tone is light with jest, but you have no doubt he means it. This is a common theme in many of the oft-whispered stories- if the prince and princess like someone enough, they might keep them a whole day, or night, or any length of time, really. For their use and pleasure alone. Even restrained, if the guest wishes- and from what you’ve heard, enough have wished it to make you wonder.

The thought makes you shiver. As does Oberyn’s grip, dragging your hands gently upward, forcing your face and chest flat against the silk sheets. Your breathing quickens. Oberyn’s hips press into your rear, his cock rubbing between your cheeks, and with your knees spread the way they are, you can feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared cool against your inner thighs.

Heat flares in your cheeks. Is Oberyn going to fuck you already?

“Mmm,” he rumbles into your neck. “That is very tempting, but I shall take my own advice, I think. Patience.”

And Oberyn demonstrates a great store of patience, indeed. You lie, belly down in slippery silk, for an immeasurable length of time as the prince drags his mouth along every inch of your skin. You squirm and pant and moan under the delicious assault, fresh slick welling when he lingers where your thighs meet. His weight lifts off you as Oberyn finally descends, imprinting new damp patches down your left leg.

You take the opportunity to shift, half turning on your side toward Ellaria. She’s watching you, eyes slumberous and knowing. Her fingers trace light paths across your arms and chest- the first time she’s touched so much of your bare skin.

“Will you bring us songs as well as messages in the future, sweet bird? You sound so lovely when you sing.”

“If the prince and princess wish it,” you answer honestly.

You yelp as Oberyn switches legs, nipping your right ankle. Your flinch draws Ellaria’s attention to your chest. Her hand moves lower, boldly caressing the supple, sensitive flesh, all the while watching your face. She thumbs your nipple experimentally, and you bite your lip. She pinches it, and you gasp, the touch zinging straight to your core.

This time your motion twitches your thigh away from Oberyn’s mouth. With a growl, he crawls back up the bed, shoving himself unceremoniously between you and Ellaria.

“You have already had your fun, my love.” The prince falls atop his wife, his teeth at her neck. “Do not make me restrain you this morn.”

He swallows the princess’s giggles with a shamelessly wanton, thorough kiss.

“That would be a terrible torture, indeed.” Ellaria is finally able to agree, teasingly, breathlessly. “Very well, my love. I shall not interrupt your designs.”

Oberyn kisses her again, quick and soft. Resting his forehead against hers, he turns his head to you. “Perhaps after I am through with her, you can give me a reenactment of your meeting.”

His eyes gleam wickedly as he looks at you while addressing his wife.

They are both impossibly beautiful. Inky hair and rich coloring- the very sun yearns to embrace them, its golden arms reaching across the bed. They appear all the more unearthly when gilded with its light; untouchable as muses, models which sculptors might strive their whole lives to do justice.

But they are as physical as you. The illusion is broken when Oberyn again slides his body across yours, pleasure striking like sparks over your skin.

“Come, sweet one. I wish for my messenger bird to perch upon my face.”

Oberyn wants you to…sit on his face? Why?

The prince stretches out on your other side. You sit up, wanting to oblige him but unsure of his intent. You don’t understand until Oberyn reaches for your sex, stroking lightly in a beckoning gesture. He growls in satisfaction at the slickness that readily coats his fingers.

Oberyn reads the hesitation in your face. “You have not done this before.”

“No, my prince. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. It is an honor to teach new pleasures to the subjects in my care.”

The sheets rustle as Ellaria strokes your thigh comfortingly. “Oberyn had much to teach me, as well, when I first came to his bed. You will like this,” she assures you.

Oberyn makes no objection to his wife’s touch this time. “What is going to happen is you, lovely bird, are going to sit that shapely bottom here-” he pats his chest “-which will allow me to taste your sweetness directly from the source.” He dips the tips of those beckoning fingers into your cunt, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

You are stunned all over again. Although this time some of your bemusement is surely due to the way the prince’s thumb joins his fingers, pressing at the bud of your sex even while his fingers continue to rub at something divine inside you.

You arch and whimper. “Prince Oberyn-!”

He chuckles, a pleased, approving sound. “That’s right, sweet bird. Come, take your perch and sing.”

The prince tugs and maneuvers you just so, arranging you above his mouth. His fingers are wet on your thigh.

His mouth is wetter. You moan, high and long and helpless, when Oberyn’s mouth engulfs your sex. Past lovers have done this for you (albeit in more traditional positions), but Oberyn has clearly received a prince’s education even in the carnal arts. Slippery heat and suction, concentrated pressure and indiscriminate lapping- somehow he knows precisely what to do and where, and when, and for how long-

“Ah~!” you cry out again as pleasure rushes up all too suddenly, pressure about to burst like a geyser. You squirm and try to lift away from Oberyn, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. Surely it would be rude to climax before the prince?

Ellaria’s grip above your knee has tightened. In your parted lips, your heaving chest, she reads the signs.

“Take your pleasure, sweet bird.” Her eyes are now wide, rather than sleepy. “You needn’t wait to reach your peak.”

Her intent gaze is all the permission you need- as is Oberyn’s tongue, twisting relentlessly at your clit. Your uncertainty snaps at his wordless demand. Pleasure floods your system, climax shuddering through every muscle, everything pulling abruptly tight before releasing

The onslaught of bliss gradually recedes. Accompanying the very last of it is a long, deep sigh- a confirmation of relief if there ever was one. Your thighs tremble suddenly, after holding tense for so long. Your hands fall to Oberyn’s head to support yourself, fingers instinctively stroking through the short, bristly strands of his hair.

The prince tips his head back into your caress, revealing his mouth and chin shiny with your release. His eyes glint with satisfaction.

“Was that as sweet for you as it was for me, Songbird?”

“I daresay it was, my prince.” You are breathless and overcome with the sudden urge to giggle.

You begin to ease off of Oberyn, your limbs clumsy as if affected by the same buzzing that fills your head. It’s a giddy, bubbling sensation; it reminds you of a party the palace hosted, not long ago. You don’t remember the reason, now. Only that the prince had used it as an excuse to share a marvelous new kind of wine he’d discovered on his travels- a sweet, white vintage which fizzed, in which bubbles rose endlessly, seemingly without source or cause. It sparkled in mouths and in spirits all night long. He’d invited all the palace staff to the celebration, to try this magical wine, and had caught your eye that night. Your spirit lifted by the bubbles, you’d smiled at Oberyn.

Nothing came of it that night, of course. But now, with your body loose as if that wine were still fizzing in your veins…you cannot find it in you to feel disappointed.

Oberyn takes a second to ensure that you are again lying snugly between him and Ellaria. Then he leans over you entirely, his mouth still shiny, and Ellaria sits up slightly to meet him. She moans at the taste of you in his kiss.

Oberyn’s manhood presses into your thigh. It is insistently hard, a ruddy flush to it now, and leaking freely. The fluid smears onto your skin. Eyes wide, you are entranced by the prince and princess all over again.

The ends of Ellaria’s raven curls brush your arm, soft and sweet-smelling. Following them upward, your eye catches on a necklace encircling her throat. A slender gold chain rests atop her collarbone. From it dangles small stones, their polished surfaces catching the light in shades suggesting a sunrise: pink, lavender, topaz. It seems to glimmer with a light all its own, the chain links shifting and tinkling as Ellaria moves.

“Perhaps you will have to try our topsy-turvy position with her as well, my love.” Oberyn murmurs against Ellaria’s lips, and you’d swear her cheeks colored the slightest tinge.

Turning his head, the prince notices what has caught your attention.

“Do you like her necklace, sweet bird?”

Oberyn shifts his body over yours as he speaks. Distracted by his words, you almost don’t notice the prince’s body sinking between your legs- until you feel a cool brush of air where there hadn’t been, and something rigid, long, and hot settle at the seam of your cunt. You draw a startled breath.

“I like how it sparkles and chimes when I fuck her, “ Oberyn croons in your ear. His tongue flickers at your neck, every inch the viper; the sensation crackles down your spine like a whip-strike of fresh pleasure. “Shall we find one for you?”

Your mouth hangs open, but no air or sound passes in either direction. Perhaps there are too many sounds you could make, and not enough air in the room; all you can do is stare.

Taking your shock as assent, Oberyn directs Ellaria to pick something for you. “We keep a jewelry box by the bed for this very purpose.” The prince smirks.

Ellaria stretches toward the nightstand at Oberyn’s bid, the sheets slithering down her back. She could be a sea-nymph, reaching out from a pool of gold, the silk glimmering like water around her. It is a mesmerizing sight: Ellaria’s long back, a slim braid of muscles flickering as she rummages in a drawer. Her arm arcs upward suddenly, triumphant, and when she turns back the silk slips lower still, and you glimpse what you had only felt between her legs that day…

Ellaria dangles her prize before your face. A short chain of gold like hers, but from which hang smaller stones like clusters of grapes, winking in the light. You can’t imagine wearing something so fine- but then, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed into the prince and princess’s bed before this morning, either. Being adored and adorned by two such breathtaking individuals at once.

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s declaration is hushed and reverent. “This will shine like stars against your skin.”

“Put it on,” he orders. Then he nearly whispers, “Let us get you ready for me, songbird.”

In his tone is a wicked desire that you realize had been banked, before now. But now- as he pins your legs open with his own body, with his own hand- you sense there is no stopping it.

Oberyn slips two fingers into you, the first rush of the flood he had thus far contained. You gasp, thighs spasming. But Oberyn had drawn from you a flood of your own earlier, and there was no pain, only sudden recognition of an ache- a hunger for more than just the prince’s fingers.

Ellaria drags the end of the necklace over your chest. The metal scrapes gently over your nipples, a startling but not unpleasant sensation, and you squirm at the onslaught of stimulation- Oberyn’s fingers filling you, Ellaria’s fingers brushing your throat- and finally, the close-fitting chain clasping snugly around your neck.

You swallow, and feel the resistance of the unyielding metal against the bob of your throat. Oberyn watches you intently, hungrily. His fingers still move inside you, experimenting with one motion, then another, tracking your reaction to each one. You hitch your thighs open wider as sensations compete for your attention. You tip your head back, exposing your now-bejeweled throat to Oberyn.

“Do I sparkle enough for you, my prince?”

One corner of his mouth curls up, but it’s an almost mocking effect combined with the glitter in his eyes. “Let us find out, little raven.”

Without further warning, Oberyn’s fingers withdraw from your cunt. Every muscle in you tightens, your awareness narrowing in anticipation. Oberyn strokes his cock through your sex, readying you. Your hips lift toward the sensation. Your eyes lock.

The prince of Dorne plunges his cock into you in a single, breathtaking stroke. Your head drops back; your eyes roll heavenward. Oberyn’s loud, satisfied moan fills the room. He relishes this moment as fully as he enjoys everything else he does, his hips grinding forward into yours like he cannot get enough of himself inside you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing short. Oberyn’s cock fills you like nothing you’ve ever felt, until there is no room for you to focus on anything but the thick, burning length of him.

“Look at me, Bird. Open your eyes.”

How can you do anything but obey?

Oberyn’s gaze is fiercely alive, shining with joy and triumph at the pleasure connecting you.

You can hardly speak, but he sees it in your eyes; you have never been so thrilled to feel like a mouse in the cat’s claws.

After that there is nothing more to be said. Oberyn ravishes you as he promised, raining praises like word of law, scandalous declarations that make you blush despite your position beneath him. Every stroke of his cock is a work of art. The prince draws out your pleasure from a seemingly endless spool, until you are unraveled, trembling, teetering on the knife’s edge of bliss.

The necklace around your throat did indeed glitter like a chain of stars. Oberyn thrusts into you hard, taking it as a challenge to make the stones chime louder than you sobbed each time. He thoroughly enjoys the way each thrust makes your curves ripple. He enjoys, too, the sight of his wife plastering herself to your shoulder, cooing encouragement even as she contributes to Oberyn’s treatment.

“You’re doing so well, sweet bird. My husband does have stamina, doesn’t he? And this after he had me earlier this morn…” Ellaria’s voice is lush and silky as flower petals- and as erotic dragging over your skin. “I had no idea you could sing so sweetly.”

Oberyn slows his pace. “I should not be the only one to have you today, my heart. I wish to hear what songs you make together.”

Oberyn grips your chin in his large hand and turns your face toward the princess. “What do you say, Songbird? Will you eat my wife’s cunt when I’m through with yours?”

You would have agreed to anything as long he brought you back to that dazzling edge, but this was a bargain you’d be happy to fulfill.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Gladly.”

A small smile tilts up Ellaria’s mouth. “I would be most intrigued to experience the talents of this lovely mouth,” she muses. “But perhaps I would rather eat yours, instead. You know how I like to taste you, my prince.”

She direct the last words to her husband, sultry mischief in her dark eyes. Her fingertips dance between your bodies, down, down, to where you are split around him. You jolt at the targeted pressure she places on your clit.

Oberyn groans, his forehead lowering to your shoulder. “I fear you shall not have long to wait, my love. This cunt is truly divine- it may deserve further worship after all…”

His words trail away, praises only half-formed grunted into your neck. His thrusts speed up again. The two of them on either side of you, commanding your pleasure so sweetly, overwhelms your senses- as do Ellaria’s fingers, pressing precisely where you need.

Your mouth opens in a soundless cry as you tip over the precipice. Oberyn jerks his head up to see, and the gorgeous pleasure-pain contorting your features, your cunt fluttering in time with your body’s convulsions, yanks the prince after you.

Ellaria watches raptly. Her husband’s long body, muscles rippling as he pistons into another, was a sight she never tired of. Neither was his near-snarl as he climaxed, his body seizing and shuddering in ecstasy.

The prince continues moving until your cries turn to whimpers, and your thighs clamp around his hips. A sinister thought briefly quirks his mouth- if he had not been additionally sated by Ellaria earlier, it would have taken much more effort indeed to slow him. Oberyn is rarely satisfied unless his lovers are all but unable to rise from his bed.

A good thing then, that a familiar gleam has appeared in his wife’s eye.

As Oberyn lowers himself back down to your side, Ellaria takes his place, her body undulating atop yours like a serpent. The prince watches with lazy satisfaction. Despite both his recent releases, his blood maintains a low simmer at the sight of the two of you, the feminine swells of you squishing and spilling against one another. Like the overflow of cream from a bun, he thinks dreamily. Exactly how he likes his cream- overflowing. Perhaps he will be able to sleep now, and he can request some custard puffs from the kitchens later for a second reenactment…

You have barely caught your breath from Oberyn’s attention when Ellaria steals it again, her tongue slipping against yours in a familiar dance. Unencumbered by gowns this time, you are able to touch all of her, caressing down her spine and lower, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She sits up slightly, and slickness that's not your own lets her rock easily against your sex.

“You sing too sweetly to release so soon, lovely bird. Have you any urgent appointments today?”

Your gaze falls to the black sash which Oberyn had so carelessly tossed aside. Before you can respond, another knock sounds at the door.

Oberyn lets out a half-hearted snarl. “By all the gods-”

Again fully nude, but appearing even more debauched than when you’d arrived, the prince stalks to the door and flings it open.

“Yes?”

It’s another messenger, although her reaction is very different from yours: she stares rigidly ahead, her voice quavering at the sight of Oberyn’s naked, recently exerted body.

“My prince, the Maester sent me to look for…” she trails off when she spots you, her eyes flitting to you for a split second when Oberyn shifts impatiently. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” She bows her head, her voice going squeaky.

“Tell him I have need of this raven for a special task today. I will answer his missive later.”

Oberyn is closing the door before he’s done speaking. When he turns back to the bed, he finds you with your head thrown back, writhing as Ellaria toys deliberately with your nipples.

He chuckles. “And you tell me I am the incorrigible one, my love.”

Oberyn burrows languidly into the sheets again, stretching out comfortably by your side. You’re whimpering by now, a furrow in your brow rapidly taking the shape of disbelief. It’s a feeling he knows well.

“Oh, sweet bird, my wife is a rare talent with her fingers, is she not? We have hardly begun all the things we would do to you…”

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