#game of thrones pedro pascal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmicaura7 · 3 months ago

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THE RED VIPER'S INSATIABLE WIFE

Pairings : pedro pascal (oberyn martell) x reader

Genre : f/m, f/f, m/m, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, foursome, scissoring, oral (female and male receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering

Synopsis : In where Oberyn’s pretty wife can be insatiable most of the time, and he’s more than happy to indulge in her desires and fantasies.

Word Count : 8.5k

Author's Note : Thank you for all the support to my Joel fic! It was probably the most interaction I've had during my time here in tumblr and thank you so much for 200 followers!🥺 As reward, here's an Oberyn fic that I've written a few years back and wanted to share it. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Oberyn Martell had always known that his wife was insatiable. It was one of the many things he adored about her. The way she craved pleasure, her own, his, and the pleasure of others, was a fire that never burned out. She has always viewed pleasure to be a gift meant to be cherished in life, sharing the same views he has always upheld. And the Dornish Prince was more than happy to indulge in the pleasure and satisfaction that his pretty little wife shares with him, even helping her explore more of her hidden desires that she’s been wanting to experience.

And tonight?

Tonight, he had stumbled upon a sight that nearly stole the breath from his lungs. The heavy silk curtains of their chamber were slightly parted, the candlelight flickering, casting golden shadows against the walls. And there spread across their bed was his beautiful wife, tangled in the limbs of their favorite courtesan, Elena, a young woman with luscious dark curls, tanned skin and sharp seductive honey eyes. She’s been their precious lover for a while and has always kept his pretty wife company whenever he is out doing his prince duties.

His cock twitched at the sight. You were bare, your soft, glistening body pressed tightly against hers. Your legs were spread wide and entwined with hers, your slick folds rubbing against each other in a slow deep grind. The sounds, the soft breathy moans and the wet needy friction, filled the chamber like a symphony of sin.

"Gods, my lady, you're so wet." Elena arched her back and gasped as her hands gripped your thighs.

"Mmm, you feel so good, my darling" You hummed with a smirk decorating your features, your fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked your hips against hers faster.

Oberyn groaned lowly and leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Am I interrupting, my loves?" His voice was husky laced with amusement and desire.

Both of you turned to look at him, your bodies still moving, slow and teasing. "Not at all, husband." You purred, licking your lips. "We were just keeping each other warm in your absence."

"Then allow me to join you." Oberyn chuckled, pushing off the doorway, already untying his robe. He barely had time to shed his robe before you pushed him onto the bed, a wicked smirk playing on your lips. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and raw hunger, hands already reaching for you. But you had other plans.

"No, no, my love." You cooed, straddling his chest and hovering just above his face. "Lie back and let me use you."

Oberyn groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you down onto his waiting mouth. The first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, arching, fingers tangling into his thick curls as he devoured you.

"Oh, gods, Oberyn." You moaned, rolling your hips and grinding your soaked folds against his skilled tongue. Your sweet Elena watched with wide, hungry eyes, her lips parted as her gaze flickered between your pleasure and the way Oberyn groaned beneath you.

"Don't just sit there.” You purred, looking down at her. "Suck his cock, my sweet." The woman didn't need to be told twice. She moved between Oberyn's legs, wrapping her delicate fingers around his thick, hard length, stroking him twice before parting her lips and taking him deep into her mouth. Oberyn growled against your cunt, his hips jerking upward at the sudden heat of her mouth, the sensation of being devoured from both ends.

"That’s it." You praised, grinding down harder, shuddering as Oberyn moaned into your pussy. "Take him as deep as you can." Elena whimpered, hollowing her cheeks, her hand stroking what she couldn't take. Oberyn’s fingers dug into your hips, his tongue working feverishly, flicking against your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your pleasure.

"Fuck, my love." You trembled, thighs squeezing around his face as his tongue pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Elena let out a muffled moan around his cock, her hand moving faster, slick sounds filling the air as she sucked him greedily.

Oberyn was being used from both ends, and he loved every second of it. His lips glistened with your arousal as he finally pulled away from your trembling thighs, his dark eyes ablaze with hunger. His hands smoothed over your heated skin, squeezing possessively as he adjusted you, turning you around as your back now rests on his toned chest. "You taste divine, my love." He murmured, voice thick with lust, gripping his cock and teasing your soaked entrance with the swollen tip.

You whimpered, grinding down onto him, desperate for more, but before you could fully sink onto his length, Oberyn grabbed Elena by her chin, tilting her face up. "Now, my sweet thing." He purred to her, thumb tracing her swollen lips, still wet from sucking him off. "It’s your turn to feast as well." She nodded eagerly, crawling between your thighs, her eyes dark with lust as she settled beneath you. He gripped your hips and with one swift motion, buried himself deep inside you.

"Oh, gods!" Your cry echoes through the chambers as Elena’s eager mouth pressing against your sensitive folds, her tongue lapping up the mixture of your pleasure and Oberyn’s claim.

Oberyn groaned at the sensation, his cock stretching you deliciously, the vibrations of Elena’s muffled moans against your clit making you shudder. "Look at you, my love." He rasped, thrusting slowly, deeply, savoring the way your walls clenched around him. "Being worshipped like the goddess you are."

You could barely respond, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being stretched and devoured all at once. Elena whimpered beneath you, desperate and hungry, burying her tongue deeper, drinking in your essence as Oberyn fucked into you with slow deliberate thrusts.

"You're trembling already." Oberyn chuckled, voice laced with amusement and dark desire. He pressed a hand against your belly, feeling himself move inside you. "You love this, don't you? Being filled while our little pet worships your sweet cunt?" You nodded frantically, your body burning with pleasure, the sensations too much yet not enough.

Oberyn smirked, snapping his hips faster, sending you crashing into the courtesan’s eager tongue. "Then come for me, my love." He commanded, thrusting deeper and harder, chasing your release. "Come while she drinks every drop." Your thighs trembled, still sensitive from the relentless pleasure, yet your hunger for your husband was insatiable. He lay back on the silk-covered bed, his golden skin gleaming under the flickering candlelight, eyes hooded as he watched you roll off his cock and crawl between his legs. His cock stood thick and proud, glistening from where he had just been buried inside you.

"Such a greedy little thing." Oberyn mused while cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your swollen lips. "You can barely stand, yet here you are, eager for more."

"I can never get enough of you, my love." You smirked up at him, wrapping your fingers around his girth, feeling the heat of him pulsing in your grasp.

Before he could respond, you wrapped your lips around the head, flicking your tongue against the slit, savoring the taste of your own essence mixed with his. Oberyn groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows, fingers tightening in your hair. "Just like that, my sweet wife." He praised, hips rolling up into your warmth, chasing more of that blissful friction.

Behind you, Elena’s slim hands traced your hips, spreading you wider as she pressed soft kisses to your inner thighs. "You’re breathtaking." She murmured against your skin before her tongue found your swollen clit again, making you gasp around Oberyn’s cock.

The vibrations from your moan had Oberyn growling, his grip tightening. "Gods, you feel incredible." He hissed, his free hand tangling in your hair as he guided your movements.

Elena’s tongue moved in slow teasing strokes, her hands gripping your hips as she devoured you with eager hunger. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you hollow your cheeks and take Oberyn deeper, savoring the way he twitched inside your mouth. "You’ll be the death of me, woman." He rasped, his muscles tensing, the sight of you pleasuring him while being worshipped driving him wild. He couldn’t hold back much longer. With a deep growl, he thrust up into your mouth, fingers tight in your hair as he claimed you, the pleasure overwhelming.

Oberyn groaned, his chest rising and falling as he watched you with rapt attention. His dark eyes, hazy with pleasure and followed the slow deliberate way you lifted your head from his spent cock, a sinful mixture of his release and your own saliva glistening on your lips. "Fuck." He breathed, his fingers still tangled in your hair, completely enthralled by the sight of his perfect wife, so greedy and so utterly insatiable.

But you weren’t done yet. With a sultry smirk, you turned to the courtesan beside you, gripping her chin gently before pulling her into a heated kiss. Oberyn watched, his cock twitching in response, as you parted your lips, sharing his essence with the woman kneeling beside you. Elena moaned softly, her delicate hands grasping your waist as she eagerly licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of her prince on your tongue.

Oberyn’s breath hitched. "You’re a wicked thing, aren’t you?" He mused, his voice thick with amusement and lingering lust.

"Would you have me any other way, my love?" You pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, your lips still glistening.

Elena hummed against your skin, pressing a kiss to your jaw before trailing her lips down your throat. "Your wife is quite divine, Prince Oberyn." She murmured, her hands roaming over your heated skin, tracing the curves of your body.

Oberyn chuckled darkly, his fingers lazily stroking up your thigh, possessive and teasing all at once. "That she is." He agreed, his grip tightening just enough to make you shudder. The hunger in his gaze returned.

"And I’m far from done with her." He leaned back against the pillows, his dark eyes glimmering with mischief and satisfaction as he watched the two of you entangled on the silk sheets. His wife, his perfect insatiable little wife, still slick and trembling from the pleasure he had given her, now tangled with their favorite courtesan, still eager for more.

But something was missing.

"Shall we indulge a little further, my love?" Oberyn murmured, running his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. You glanced over your shoulder at him, a smirk tugging at your swollen lips.

"What do you have in mind, my Prince?" You purred.

Oberyn reached for the bell at the bedside table and gave it a single, deliberate ring. Moments later, the door creaked open and in stepped a tall, well-built man with striking features and a confident smirk. "You summoned me, my Prince?” The man, Hugo, one of their usual courtesans as well that often joins them in their bed, confidently and politely asks.

Oberyn gestured toward the bed, where you lay gloriously bare, thighs still glistening with his claim. "Come." He said simply, eyes glinting with approval. "Let’s see if my wife can handle more." The male courtesan approached, his gaze raking over your body with appreciation. He slid onto the bed, hands already exploring the soft curves of your form, his lips pressing warm, teasing kisses along your shoulder.

Oberyn watched intently as his hands roamed your body possessively, tracing the marks he had already left. "Be gentle with her." He warned, though his tone was laced with amusement. "For now." You sighed in pleasure, caught between three lovers now, each eager to worship you in their own way.

And the night was far from over.

The scent of wine and jasmine lingered in the air, thick with sin and desire. You lay sprawled on the silken sheets, your body already tingling with pleasure but Oberyn was never one to stop when there was still more to give. "Such a sight." Your husband purred, his thumb brushing your swollen lips as he watched you with open hunger. "But we are not done yet, my love."

You barely had a moment to recover before Hugo settled between your thighs, his hands parting them further, his breath warm against your slick heat. He wasted no time, dragging his tongue along your folds, slow and teasing, before delving deeper, savoring every taste of you. You gasped, back arching at the sensation, but before you could catch your breath, Elena straddled your face, her thighs caging you in. She moaned as she sank down onto your waiting mouth, grinding against your tongue while her hands reached forward, grasping Oberyn’s length with practiced ease.

Oberyn groaned low in his throat, his head tilting back in pleasure as the female courtesan wrapped her lips around him, her tongue swirling over his tip before taking him deeper. His hand buried itself in her hair, guiding her movements while his dark gaze remained locked on you, his pretty little wife, lost in pleasure, surrounded, adored. "You take everything so beautifully, my love." He murmured, voice rough with desire. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

The vibrations of your muffled moan against the woman above you sent a shudder through her body, her hands tightening around Oberyn’s thighs as she took him even deeper. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure, your muffled cries, the courtesans’ moans, Oberyn’s deep, guttural groans. "Don’t hold back, sweet girl." He encouraged, his voice nothing but silk and heat. "Let them hear how much you love this." And as Hugo’s tongue worked you relentlessly and the woman above you trembled from your touch, you did exactly that.

The night was far from over, and Oberyn was determined to see you properly ruined in the best possible way. You barely had time to catch your breath before Hugo, now aching with need, pulled Elena onto his lap. His hands gripped her waist as he guided her down onto his length, filling her inch by inch until she was gasping against your lips.

Oberyn, ever the generous prince, did not let you go unattended. With a firm grip on your hips, he positioned himself behind you, dragging the head of his cock along your soaked entrance. "You are still so eager.” He murmured, his voice laced with amusement and desire. "I could spend all night inside you, and it still wouldn’t be enough, would it?" You didn’t get the chance to answer before he slammed into you with one deep thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your cry was muffled as the female courtesan captured your lips, swallowing your moans while she bounced on the man beneath her.

Oberyn’s hands gripped your waist tightly, guiding your movements as he drove into you over and over. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the chamber, mingling with breathy moans and desperate gasps. Elena tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss as she whimpered against your mouth. The two of you moved in sync, your bodies used and worshipped in equal measure.

"Such a perfect sight." Oberyn groaned, watching as you and the female courtesan shared breathless moans between kisses. The male courtesan beneath her let out a low grunt, his grip tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her, matching Oberyn’s brutal pace.

Oberyn’s hand slid up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he pulled you away from the kiss, forcing you to look at him. His dark eyes were wild with possession and lust, his cock hitting deep, sending pleasure surging through you. "You belong to me." He growled against your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "Say it."

"I belong to you, my prince." You gasped, your voice breaking with pleasure.

Oberyn rewarded you with a particularly rough thrust, drawing a shameless cry from your lips. The room was hot, bodies tangled in pleasure, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. "Let go, my love." He murmured, his lips pressing against your shoulder. "Let them hear how well I fuck my wife." And when you finally did, your cries of ecstasy echoed through the chambers, lost in the night’s sinful pleasure.

-----

The journey to King’s Landing had been long, but neither you nor Oberyn were in any rush to arrive at the Red Keep. No, instead of heading straight to the court of vipers, you found yourselves in the dimly lit halls of Lord Baelish’s infamous brothel.

"A wedding invitation." Oberyn had mused days ago, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Joffrey Baratheon marrying Margaery Tyrell. How quaint. Shall we attend, my love?"

"Only if we make a proper stop first." You had replied, smirking as you curled your fingers around the stem of your goblet. And so here you were, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight and draped in silks that clung to your curves as Oberyn’s fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh. The scent of perfumed oils and wine lingered in the air, mixed with the quiet moans of pleasure coming from the rooms beyond. Littlefinger had been more than pleased to host you. He knew better than to deny the Viper of Dorne and his lovely wife their desires for pleasures.

Oberyn had wasted no time indulging himself, his hands roaming your body even as he lounged on the plush cushions, watching the beautiful courtesans before him. "Which one do you like, my love?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers dipped beneath your skirts.

You smirked, tilting your head slightly to observe the selection before you. A beautiful array of men and women stood in silken robes, their gazes eager, waiting to be chosen. "Hmm…" You mused, tapping your chin with a playful glint in your eyes. "That one, perhaps." You pointed to a striking woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes, her gown sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.

Oberyn hummed in approval, his fingers curling against you beneath the table, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. "A fine choice." He murmured. "Shall we begin our stay in King's Landing properly, then?" And with that, the night unfolded in silk and sweat, pleasure and power, just as it always did with Oberyn Martell.

The night had begun as it always did when you and Oberyn indulged in your shared pleasures, a haze of wine, silk, and wandering hands. The courtesan you had chosen was beautiful, undoubtedly so, with dark hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders and eyes sharp enough to tempt. Yet, as the evening unfolded, it became clear that her attention was far more fixated on your husband than on you. You had felt it in the way her hands lingered too long on Oberyn’s chest, her nails tracing down his stomach with an almost possessive reverence. The way her lips sought his more often than yours. The way her gaze flickered to you only out of obligation, her hands moving over your body as an afterthought.

Oberyn had noticed.

Oh, he had noticed.

And the more it happened, the more his amusement soured into irritation. At first, he humored her, allowing her kisses, letting her hands roam but his dark eyes kept flickering to you, watching your reactions, sensing your growing disinterest. You had given him a look, one he knew well. A look that said: She is not worthy of our time. And so, with a casual flick of his wrist, Oberyn grasped the woman’s chin between his fingers, forcing her gaze onto his.

"Tell me, sweet thing…" He murmured, voice velvety smooth but laced with warning. "Did you forget who brought you to our bed?"

"I…" The courtesan stilled, blinking in confusion flickering across her features.

"Hush." Oberyn’s grip tightened just enough to make her lips part in a quiet gasp. "You bore me." He sighed, releasing her roughly before turning his full attention back to you.

"More importantly, you bore my wife." He waved his hand lazily. "Leave us."

"But my prince…" The woman hesitated, her cheeks flushing in humiliation.

"I said leave." The sharp finality in his tone left no room for argument. And so, with a frustrated sigh, the courtesan gathered her robes and left, her pride wounded and her presence forgotten before she even stepped out the door.

Oberyn exhaled through his nose, his irritation fading the moment she was gone. He turned to you, his expression softening as he cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a deep, possessive kiss. "My love." He murmured against your lips, "No one deserves to touch you unless they know how to worship you properly."

You smirked, threading your fingers through his dark curls, pulling him closer. "Then perhaps you should remind me." You purred softly into his ear. "What proper worship feels like." Oberyn chuckled darkly before flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as he set out to do just that.

-----

Tyrion Lannister was no stranger to the sounds of Lord Baelish’s brothels, the muffled moans, the rhythmic creaking of beds, the occasional drunken laughter echoing down the halls. Yet, when he pushed open the door to the private chamber where Prince Oberyn and his wife were supposedly indulging themselves, he was still woefully unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

"Seven hells…!" His words died in his throat as his mismatched eyes landed on the two of you.

Oberyn had you pinned beneath him on the sumptuous red sheets of the brothel bed, his broad hands gripping your thighs as he drove himself into you with a fervor that was unmistakably possessive. You were utterly lost in pleasure, your nails dragging down his back, your lips parted in a breathless moan and your body arching to meet each thrust.

The Martell prince barely spared Tyrion a glance, too focused on the way your body clenched around him, the way you gasped his name between heavy breaths. "You have impeccable timing, Lannister." Oberyn drawled without pausing, his voice thick with amusement.

Tyrion, to his credit, did not immediately avert his gaze, though he did raise a skeptical brow and reach for the wine pitcher on the nearby table, pouring himself a much-needed cup. "I was sent to retrieve you." He announced dryly, taking a long sip as if that would somehow erase the image burned into his mind. "Though it seems you're otherwise engaged."

"Cersei sent you, didn’t she?" Oberyn finally slowed, lifting his head to glance at the imp with a smirk.

"Yes, she insists you and your lovely wife join us at the Red Keep for dinner." Tyrion sighed, swirling the wine in his cup.

"And what does your darling sister want with us, I wonder?" Oberyn let out a soft chuckle, his hands trailing teasingly down your sweat-slicked skin, reveling in the way you shivered beneath him.

"To size up your wife, no doubt," Tyrion replied. "Cersei enjoys knowing who she’s dealing with."

"Then let her try." You finally stirred, lifting your head with a slow, wicked smile.

Oberyn grinned down at you before finally, and much to Tyrion’s relief, pulling away and rolling onto his back with a satisfied hum. "Tell your sister we shall be there shortly." He said lazily, stretching like a sated predator.

Tyrion gave a small bow, draining the rest of his wine before turning on his heel towards the wine table. "Take your time." He muttered. "Gods know I need more wine before I sit through dinner with Cersei anyway." And with that, he then takes a seat on the chair on the nearby table facing the bed, not having the intention to leave the room at all.

Oberyn only noticed when he turned his head, catching the imp lingering by the wine table, pouring himself yet another cup. The Martell prince smirked, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement. "Enjoying the show, Lannister?" He mused, dragging his fingertips down your sweat-slicked body, tracing the curve of your hip.

Tyrion took a long, unbothered sip of wine, his sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. "It would be rude to leave in the middle of such… passionate artistry." He said, his tone droll but his eyes betraying a hint of intrigue.

"My husband does have a certain… talent, doesn’t he?" You chuckled breathlessly, turning your head toward Tyrion with a slow knowing smirk.

Oberyn grinned, his pride evident as he leaned down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, nipping at your pulse. "I do…" He murmured, his voice a low purr against your skin.

"Prince Oberyn, ever the exhibitionist." Tyrion hummed, swirling the wine in his cup.

Oberyn laughed, unbothered, his hands still mapping your body, still teasing and still possessive. "And you, dear Lannister, ever the connoisseur of life’s finer pleasures." He shot back.

"I do have an appreciation for passion in all its forms." Tyrion smirked, tipping his cup in mock salute.

Oberyn studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then without hesitation, he reached for the wine pitcher and poured a fresh cup, handing it to you. "Drink, my love." He purred. "We mustn’t keep the Queen Regent waiting too long."

The implication was clear. They would stay but not for much longer.

"By all means…" Tyrion drawled out. "...don’t let me interrupt." He merely chuckled, lifting his own cup once more as he leaned back comfortably, watching as Oberyn soon made sweet love to his pretty little wife again.

-----

Tyrion Lannister let out a low whistle. "Gods be good." He muttered, his sharp eyes lingering on the mess between your thighs, with Oberyn’s spend dripping from your swollen overstimulated cunt.

Oberyn, still catching his breath, laughed at the Lannister’s blatant admiration. "What’s wrong, Lannister?" He mused, tracing idle patterns over your stomach, his fingers grazing the sheen of sweat on your skin.

"I’ve seen many things in this brothel, but rarely something quite so… artistic." Tyrion took a slow sip of his wine, never looking away.

You chuckled breathlessly, turning your head to meet Tyrion’s gaze with a satisfied smirk. "High praise, coming from a Lannister." You teased, your voice still husky from pleasure.

Oberyn hummed in agreement, his fingers casually dipping between your thighs, spreading the evidence of your indulgence even further. You gasped at the sensitivity, your hips twitching involuntarily.

"She takes me so well, doesn’t she?" Oberyn murmured, his fingers lazily stroking your inner thigh, his touch still possessive and still claiming you.

Tyrion’s gaze flickered from your blissed-out expression to Oberyn’s smug satisfaction. "Prince Oberyn, I do believe you enjoy tormenting me." He drawled, setting his empty cup aside.

Oberyn grinned, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips before finally pulling away. "You wound me, Lannister." He said, his voice dripping with amusement. He finally yet reluctantly eased himself from your body, reaching for a cloth to clean you with gentle care. His touch remained reverent, worshipful, as if savoring every last moment of his handiwork.

You sighed, sated, yet delighted at the attention. "I suppose we should make ourselves presentable." You murmured, your fingers brushing through Oberyn’s dark curls.

Oberyn smirked, tossing the soiled cloth aside. "Yes…" He agreed. "...before Cersei Lannister sends the Kingsguard to drag us to the Red Keep."

"Oh, I assure you, if she knew exactly what was delaying your arrival, she would send them with swords drawn." Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head as he stood.

Oberyn laughed, his hands tracing over your bare skin one last time before finally helping you up. "Then let us not keep the lioness waiting." He purred into your ear before placing one last tender kiss on your temple before finally getting dressed.

-----

The grandeur of the Red Keep was as imposing as ever. Torchlight flickered against the high stone walls, casting long shadows as the great doors to the royal hall were pulled open before you. The air inside was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine and the unshakable tension that always seemed to linger among the Lannisters.

Oberyn kept a protective hand on the small of your back as you entered, the weight of his touch both possessive and grounding. His dark eyes flicked across the room, immediately taking in the assembled nobles, the glint of gold and crimson, the smug faces of House Lannister.

At the head of the room sat King Joffrey Baratheon, his cruel smile wide and arrogant. Margaery Tyrell, ever poised and graceful, sat beside him, offering the illusion of warmth as she greeted the gathered guests. "Ah, the Prince of Dorne finally graces us with his presence." Joffrey drawled, his voice laced with mockery.

Oberyn smirked, offering a dramatic bow. You followed suit, dipping your head just enough to appease the boy king but not enough to humble yourself. "Your Grace…" Oberyn greeted smoothly. "Apologies for our tardiness. My wife and I were… preoccupied." You resisted the urge to smirk, recalling exactly how you had spent your time before arriving. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Cersei Lannister watching the two of you with thinly veiled interest.

"Prince Oberyn, Lady Martell." Margaery interjected, her voice a soothing contrast to Joffrey’s arrogance. "We are honored by your presence. Please, join us for dinner."

Servants rushed to pull out chairs for you both, placing you among the more esteemed guests at the royal table. Oberyn’s fingers brushed over your knee beneath the table, a silent promise of mischief to come.

Across from you, Cersei raised a goblet of wine to her lips, watching you both with a knowing glint in her golden eyes. "Dorne has been quite… absent from King’s Landing’s affairs." She mused, her voice dripping with implication.

Oberyn, ever the provocateur, merely smiled. "We prefer the warmth of the sun to the cold walls of this dreadful keep." He replied. You sipped your wine, hiding your smirk as Cersei’s lips tightened.

Tyrion, seated farther down the table, met your gaze with an amused look, as if he alone knew exactly how you and Oberyn had been spending your time before arriving. Dinner progressed with idle conversation, tension simmering beneath every exchange. Joffrey’s cruelty was on full display as he taunted his uncle, flaunted his power, and relished in making those around him uncomfortable. But Oberyn remained relaxed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh beneath the table, a silent reminder that no matter what political games the Lannisters played, he was not easily rattled.

"Tell me, Prince Oberyn," Joffrey suddenly said, voice laced with false curiosity. "Do you plan on remaining in King’s Landing long after the wedding?"

Oberyn tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "That depends, Your Grace." He said smoothly. "I find this city most entertaining… though I have yet to decide if it is worth my time."

Joffrey bristled at the thinly veiled insult but before he could respond, you leaned in, running your fingers along the rim of your goblet as you spoke. "Perhaps you should ask Queen Cersei if we are welcome to stay." You mused, your voice dripping with mock innocence.

All eyes turned to Cersei as she held your gaze for a long moment before she smiled, slow and deliberate. "Oh, I do think you should stay." She murmured. "It has been quite some time since we’ve had guests as… intriguing as yourselves."

You weren’t sure if it was an invitation or a warning. But knowing Oberyn, it wouldn’t matter.

"I must say, Lady Martell." Cersei purred, her golden goblet poised elegantly between her fingers. "You certainly carry yourself with confidence. I suppose one must, when their claim to nobility is through marriage rather than blood."

Oberyn tensed beside you, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thigh beneath the table. His dark eyes flicked to you but he didn’t intervene, he knew better. You merely smiled, lifting your goblet in an effortless toast. "How fortunate that I married into a house where women are not mere ornaments, then."

A flicker of something sharp passed through Cersei’s eyes, but she kept her expression cool. "Ah, but tell me…" She continued. "...is it not exhausting? Keeping up with a man so…" She glanced at Oberyn with a smirk. "Energetic? Or do you find yourself easily replaced in his… pursuits?"

A softer woman might have faltered, but you only tilted your head, unbothered. "Replaced?" You echoed, swirling your wine in your glass. "How amusing. My love is generous but make no mistake, he always comes back to me." You let your gaze flick lazily over to her. "I wouldn’t expect you to understand, of course." Oberyn let out a low chuckle, his fingers resuming their slow, teasing circles on your thigh. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Cersei’s lips twitched, her patience waning. Good. "And what exactly do you contribute to House Martell, aside from warming his bed?" She asked sweetly, tilting her head.

You feigned surprise. "Oh, dear Queen, I thought you knew? I inspire my husband to be… rather ruthless in the things he loves." You took a sip of wine, letting the words settle. A not-so-subtle reminder of why he was truly in King’s Landing, to avenge his sister’s murder at the hands of Cersei’s own family.

A dangerous silence filled the space between you. Cersei’s grip on her goblet tightened, but before she could deliver another insult, Oberyn leaned forward, his voice silken and sharp as a blade. "You seem particularly interested in my wife’s talents, Queen Cersei." He mused, his eyes glinting with something dark. "Jealousy does not suit you."

A few scattered murmurs rippled through the table. Even Joffrey, smug and entertained, seemed to sense the shift in tension. Cersei’s jaw clenched but she forced a smile, unwilling to lose face in front of the court. "Hardly." She replied smoothly. "I simply find it… amusing, how quickly people rise above their station."

You let out a soft laugh, utterly unbothered. "And yet, here I am seated at the royal table, honored by invitation." You met her gaze, letting your own sharpen. "While you, dear Queen, were cast aside by your own husband for a younger woman."

The table went deathly silent. Cersei’s fingers went white around her goblet but before she could lash out, Tyrion let out a low whistle, cutting through the tension. "My, my…" He murmured, raising his cup in amusement. "This might be the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of these dreadful dinners."

Oberyn smirked beside you, his eyes filled with nothing but pride and amusement. You raise your goblet toward Cersei, smirking. "To old queens and new ones." You toasted, before taking a sip. Cersei said nothing. But the fire in her eyes told you this wasn’t over.

-----

The door barely shut behind you before Oberyn’s hands were on you. "Gods, woman." He growled against your lips, his voice low and thick with desire. You barely had time to laugh before his mouth devoured yours, hot, desperate and hungry. His hands roamed your body, fingers gripping your waist as he walked you backward toward the bed.

"I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now." He murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed down your jaw. "The way you put that lioness in her place…" His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point, making you shiver. "The way you looked at her, so poised and so untouchable."

His hands found your dress, yanking impatiently at the laces. "She thought she could rattle you." He continued, his voice husky with admiration. "But my love… you were magnificent."

You smirked against his lips, tilting your head back as he trailed kisses down your throat. "Did it make you hard?" You teased breathlessly.

Oberyn let out a low chuckle, his dark eyes blazing with heat. "What do you think?" He guided your hands to his tunic, letting you pull it over his head before his mouth was on yours again. His bare chest pressed against you, warm and solid, his heartbeat pounding against your own. Your dress slipped down your shoulders, pooling around your feet, leaving you bare before him.

"Perfect." He murmured, drinking in the sight of you, his hands tracing over every inch of your exposed skin. His calloused fingers caressed your hips, your waist and your breasts as if he were memorizing you all over again. You felt yourself being lowered onto the bed, Oberyn hovering above you. His hands braced on either side of your head, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"Tell me, my sweet wife…" He whispered, his nose brushing yours. "Did it make you wet? Putting a queen in her place?"

You shuddered as his fingers slid between your thighs, finding you already drenched. Oberyn groaned, his lips crashing into yours again. "You wicked thing." He purred against your mouth. "So wet for me already…"

You moaned into his kiss as he pressed against you, his hardness nestled between your legs. "Take me, then." You murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Show me how much you loved it."

Oberyn grinned wickedly, his eyes filled with nothing but hunger and devotion. "Oh, my love.” He murmured, lining himself up against you. "I intend to." And with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you, claiming you all over again.

Oberyn’s pace was slow but deep, each thrust deliberate as he stretched and filled you. His hands pinned yours above your head, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips devoured every gasp and moan that escaped you. "Look at you." He murmured against your skin, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "So beautiful like this, writhing beneath me and taking me so well."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into his as he angled his hips just right, making you cry out. But then a slow deliberate clap echoed through the chamber. Oberyn froze. Your breath caught, heat flooding your cheeks as your head snapped toward the source of the sound. Tyrion Lannister stood at the threshold of your bedchamber, leaning against the doorframe with a goblet in hand, his expression one of sheer amusement.

"Well, well…" Tyrion mused, swirling his wine lazily. "I must say, this is quite the welcoming sight."

Oberyn didn’t move, he didn’t even look surprised. If anything, his lips curled into an infuriating smirk as he glanced over his shoulder at the imp. "Tyrion." He drawled, his voice low and sultry. "You have the most fascinating timing, my friend."

You, on the other hand, buried your face in Oberyn’s neck, mortified. "Seven hells, did you forget to lock the door?!" You hissed against his skin.

"Perhaps I wanted to give our dear lion cub a show." Oberyn only chuckled, shifting his hips slightly, making you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

"Oh, don’t stop on my account. I do hate to interrupt such… passionate displays of affection." Tyrion took a slow sip of his wine, completely unbothered.

Your face burned, but Oberyn was thriving. "Passionate, yes…" The Dornish prince agreed, rolling his hips experimentally, sending a shiver down your spine. "My wife is quite…"

"Oberyn!" You smacked his shoulder, mortified.

"Truly, I should have expected this from you, Prince Oberyn. But dear lady, I must say, I admire your stamina." Tyrion chuckled.

Oberyn’s eyes darkened as he turned back to you, dragging his lips over your jaw. "She’s insatiable." He murmured, his voice husky with pride.

"And yet somehow, I find myself neither surprised nor scandalized." Tyrion hummed, watching the two of you with interest.

"Then tell me, Lannister… are you merely an observer tonight?" Oberyn turned his head slightly, his golden gaze meeting Tyrion’s.

"Oberyn!" You gasped, eyes wide.

But Tyrion only laughed, raising his goblet. "Tempting offer, truly. But I think I’ll leave this one to you, dear prince. As much as I enjoy the finer pleasures in life, I prefer my head unsquashed by a vengeful Martell suck as yourself."

"A shame. I do love an audience." Oberyn chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Enjoy your evening, lovebirds." Tyrion merely smirked, downing the rest of his wine.

And with that, he turned, leaving the chamber and shutting the door behind him. "You are impossible." You exhaled sharply, glaring at your husband.

"Now, where were we, my love?" Oberyn merely grinned, thrusting deep once more, pulling a gasp from you. He was still inside you, his weight warm and solid against you as he kissed the shell of your ear, his voice thick with amusement. "You seemed quite flustered, my love."

"Oberyn, we were just caught in the middle of…" You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder.

"Passionate love-making?" He finished smoothly, grinning against your skin. "Hardly the most scandalous thing to happen in King’s Landing." You huffed, lifting your head to glare at him but his golden gaze was mischievous, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, sweet wife…" He purred, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, "Were you embarrassed because Tyrion saw you like this? Or were you disappointed that he left?"

"Oberyn." You stiffened.

His smirk deepened. "Would you have liked it, hmm?" He mused, his fingers trailing down your side, his touch feather-light, teasing. "Having the lion stay and watch you come undone beneath me?"

"Oberyn…" You try to interject but was deemed useless as he sharply thrusts into your soaking cunt.

"Or perhaps…" He nipped at your jaw. "You wanted more than just his eyes on you?" Your stomach tightened, heat pooling between your legs despite your best efforts to ignore it. Oberyn noticed. He always noticed. "Oh, my love." He chuckled, voice dripping with sinful delight. "You do like the idea, don’t you?"

Your throat was dry, your heart pounding, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Oberyn merely hummed, amused. "Imagine it." He continued, his hands roaming your body, his touch feather-light and torturous. "The mighty Tyrion Lannister, watching you fall apart under my touch. Would he resist, I wonder?" His lips ghosted over yours, teasing. "Or would he give in and join us?"

"You are insufferable." You swallowed hard, trying to glare at him despite the heat pooling between your thighs.

"And yet you love me." Oberyn murmured, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips. You melted into it, fisting his curls, but when he pulled back, his eyes still held that wicked gleam. "Shall I extend an invitation to the lion, my love?" He purred, dragging his hand between your thighs and spreading your slick onto your swollen throbbing clit.

"My love…" You shivered, biting your lip.

"Shall we make a Lannister lose his breath for once?" He teased and you could only whimper as your dear devilish husband only eagerly grinned.

-----

Tyrion Lannister was beginning to think the Gods were punishing him.

Or perhaps the Dornish Prince had cursed him.

Because no matter where he went in this cursed palace, no matter what time of day, he somehow always, always managed to stumble upon Oberyn Martell buried inside his wife. At first, it had been mildly amusing, catching them in the depths of Lord Baelish’s brothel, the Red Viper shamelessly thrusting into his wife while she moaned like a whore beneath him. It wasn’t exactly a rare sight in King’s Landing, and Tyrion had simply offered a toast before making himself scarce.

But then… it had happened again.

And again.

The second time was at dinner, when the royal family had invited Oberyn and his wife to the Red Keep. The meal had been filled with thinly veiled insults and venomous glances, particularly from Cersei, who had attempted to humiliate Oberyn’s wife.

But the lady had held her own.

No, she had flourished.

Her sharp tongue had cut through Cersei’s arrogance like Valyrian steel, reducing the Queen Regent to a fuming, seething mess.

It was delicious to watch.

And clearly, Oberyn had thought so too. Because when Tyrion had later wandered into the hallways, he had found the prince slamming his wife against the wall, his robe half open with her dress bunched up around her hips as he thrust into her with reckless abandon. Tyrion had turned right back around, pretending he had seen nothing.

Yet it continued.

The next time had been in the gardens, where Oberyn had his wife straddling his lap beneath the moonlight, his hand wrapped around her throat as she rode him. Then, in the royal library, where Oberyn had bent her over a table, his teeth sunk into her shoulder as she bit down on her own fingers to keep from screaming.

And now?

Tyrion had only wanted a goddamn drink. He had been halfway to the wine cellar when he turned a corner, only to freeze, his patience finally reaching its limit. "Oh for fuck’s sake." Because there they were. Again.

Oberyn had his wife pinned against the stone wall, his hands gripping her thighs, his hips slamming into her with ruthless practiced ease. Her fingers clawed at his back, her moans muffled against his neck.

The Dornish Prince barely spared Tyrion a glance. "Ah, lion." Oberyn drawled, completely unbothered. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Tell me, Martell, do you ever stop fucking?" Tyrion sighed heavily, rubbing his temples.

"Not when I have a wife as exquisite as mine." Oberyn grinned.

"You truly do have terrible luck, Lord Tyrion." The lady in question merely giggled breathlessly, biting your lip as you looked over Oberyn’s shoulder.

"Yes, well, apparently the Gods enjoy torturing me." Tyrion exhaled sharply.

Oberyn laughed, turning back to his wife, whispering something filthy against your lips before resuming his pace.

"I need a drink." Tyrion groaned. And with that, he turned and stalked off. At this point, he should have expected it.

-----

Tyrion Lannister had seen many things in his life. He had seen wars waged and kingdoms crumble. He had seen kings rise and fall, heads lopped off, and bodies burned by wildfire. He had seen things most men would never even dream of.

And yet…

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for this.

It had started as a perfectly normal, if not mildly insufferable, dinner. The royal family, along with their esteemed guests, were seated at the grand feasting table and indulging in their meal as the air thrummed with thinly veiled tension. Cersei was sipping her wine delicately, yet her eyes burned with disdain as she sent snide remarks toward Oberyn and his wife. Joffrey was being an insufferable little prick, bragging about his upcoming wedding to Margaery Tyrell as if it were the event of the century. Jaime was mostly silent, occasionally rolling his eyes at his sister’s incessant need to antagonize Oberyn’s wife. Tyrion, as usual, was trying to drink himself into a stupor just to endure the whole affair.

But then, the gods decided to smite him once more. He had reached for his goblet of wine, only to accidentally knock his spoon off the table. It clattered against the floor, slipping beneath the tablecloth.

"Bloody fantastic." Tyrion sighed. He slid off his chair, bending down to retrieve it, only to freeze mid-motion. Because there, directly across from him, hidden beneath the long silk tablecloth, was a sight that made him nearly choke on his own breath.

Oberyn Martell, seated elegantly in his chair, sipping his Dornish wine with casual ease, had his other hand buried between his wife’s thighs. And from what Tyrion could tell, he was knuckle-deep inside you. The unmistakable wet sound of fingers curling against slick heat filled the space beneath the table.

Tyrion nearly threw his spoon across the room. His eyes darted upward, half-praying this was some sick hallucination. But no. No, this was very real. Oberyn’s pretty little wife sat perfectly poised, your hands delicately folded in your lap, your expression serene as ever. And your breath hitched ever so slightly.

Tyrion could see it. The faintest quiver in her lips. The way her thighs trembled subtly as Oberyn’s fingers worked their sinful magic. And the bastard had the audacity to keep sipping his wine, completely unfazed. He jerked his head up, slamming back into his chair.

"Problem, dear brother?" Cersei arched a brow at his sudden movement.

"No. No problem at all." Tyrion forced a tight smile. Oberyn, the smug son of a whore, smirked knowingly and lifted his cup in a silent toast. Tyrion, meanwhile, downed his own goblet of wine in one go.

This was going to be a long, long night.

-----

Tyrion Lannister should have known better.

By now, he had come to accept his fate.

Fate, it seemed, had a particular fondness for putting him in situations where he was forced to witness the Red Viper of Dorne and his insatiable wife tangled in sinful, breathless debauchery.

And tonight?

Tonight was no different.

The door to Oberyn’s chambers was slightly ajar. Tyrion hadn’t meant to look. But the moment he passed by, he heard it.

A low, throaty moan.

A deep, guttural groan.

A wet, filthy squelch.

And then Oberyn’s voice, rich and teasing. “You are dripping, my love… look at how well you take me.”

Tyrion stopped in his tracks. Gods help him, he decided to look. And what he saw made his mouth run dry. Inside the chamber, Oberyn had his wife bent over the edge of the bed, your back arched sinfully and your hands gripping the sheets. Your body was a work of art, flushed, glistening and trembling. Your devilish husband was buried deep inside you, his hips flush against your ass, his hands gripping your waist with a possessive fervor.

And yet, he wasn’t moving.

Not yet.

No.

Because the bastard was too preoccupied with something else. With showing off. One of his hands was gripping your flesh, spreading you wide and holding you open just enough for Tyrion to see. To see just how full you were. To see the way Oberyn’s cock stretched you tight, how your body quivered around him, struggling to take him in. To see the glistening mess he had already left inside you, leaking out in slow and sinful rivulets.

And Oberyn was looking right at him. His dark alluring eyes gleamed with mischief, his lips curled in a smug, knowing smirk. As if he had been waiting for Tyrion to see this. As if he was showing him, boasting, reveling in his own sinful glory.

Tyrion nearly dropped his goblet of wine.

Seven bloody hells.

“What’s wrong, Lannister? You look rather pale.” Oberyn chuckled, his voice a lazy purr.

Tyrion, for once in his life, was speechless. "You are a menace." He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away.

Oberyn only laughed, finally thrusting forward, making his wife cry out in pleasure.

Tyrion turned on his heel and marched away.

He needed another drink. Immediately.

#chat and chill #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martel x reader #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader #game of thrones

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palioom · 1 year ago

Text

little dove

summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting

a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

• masterlist •

Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her.

So innocent.

He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.

He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.

Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.

The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.

Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.

Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.

She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.

Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.

The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.

In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.

She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.

And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.

“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily.

Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.

“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”

She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”

Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.

“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”

She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?

“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”

That nickname.

It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..

“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.

Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.

“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”

Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.

If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?

He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.

To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.

“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”

Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.

But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.

She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.

All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.

But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.

She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.

Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”

His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.

“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.

He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”

Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.

She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.

Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.

“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?”

She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.

“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes.

It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.

Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them.

“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”

She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot.

A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.

And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.

There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.

“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”

He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.

Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.

As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.

Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed.

“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”

Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.

He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.

“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”

She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.

And there was still that feeling inside of her.

“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”

He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”

Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.

She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.

Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.

Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.

“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.

His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.

“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.

She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her.

She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.

“Would you allow me to?”

There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.

Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.

Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Oh, my little dove.”

Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.

She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.

When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.

“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”

His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.

“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.

His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.

Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.

The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.

Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.

The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.

There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.

Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.

“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.

Aching.

It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.

She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”

Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.

To leave her in the dark at such an age.

She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.

“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”

Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches.

Aroused.

Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?

She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features.

“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.

“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”

The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.

And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.

“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.

“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”

His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.

“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”

He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.

A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.

“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches.

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.

“Never, I didn’t know-”

“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her.

When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist.

She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.

Needed more.

The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.

“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp.

“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”

Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.

But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.

“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”

“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.

This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.

Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.

She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.

So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.

Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.

“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”

She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.

His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.

“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.

Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.

It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.

“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”

“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.

He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.

So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.

His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.

“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.

It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little.

His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.

“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”

She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.

“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.

“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”

Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.

A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.

He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.

“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”

She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.

“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.

Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.

It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.

All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.

“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”

It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.

Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.

The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.

Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest.

“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”

She nodded, whispering a silent please.

So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.

“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”

She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.

If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.

The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.

Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.

Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.

“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.

Gods, she was so adorable.

“Oh, you will see, my dove.”

His hand moved between them, finding her clit.

And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released.

She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.

“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”

It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.

She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.

Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.

She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.

And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.

“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”

If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.

But now, it seemed quite nice.

She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”

A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.

He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.

But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”

She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.

Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.

Yes, he was far from done.

There was so much to learn, so much to discover.

And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.

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