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Longest what tho.
A Dothraki woman spends a night with her lover, Drogo, with the permission of her husband, Khal Rhaeko. Note: Drogo had not yet become a Khal in this one-shot. Instead he's a bloodrider of another Khal.
And let's also pretend they're speaking Dothraki, okay? Okay.
• • •
"Finished your chores so soon?" Drogo asked me, sparing me a quick glance as I entered his tent before returning his focus onto sharpening his arakh.
"No." Was my response, allowing the candlelight to reveal more of me as I walked in further. This time when Drogo glanced at me, his hands stilled completely on his weapon while his gaze remained on me.
I refrained from allowing a smile to curve on my stained lips from knowing how badly he wanted to touch me, undress me, and fûck me right then just through the expression in his eyes.
The robe I was wearing had been given to me by my sister on my blood day. In contrast to the leather and horsehair clothing I usually wore, it was far more softer and hugged each curve of my body while also allowing me to move freely. It bore slits along the side of my thighs and a plunging neckline that only ended at my midriff. In his dim-lit tent, it appeared almost as midnight in color as my hair.
"I figured that if someone might be taking your life tomorrow when you walk into battle, I should be making the most of what little time I have left with you." I began in a deceptively innocent manner all the while making eye contact with him. I drew closer to him as I spoke with my chin held high.
"You have that little faith in me returning?"
"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to be here with you now." I tilted my head slightly to the side as I proposed the possibility. In response, he brought one hand to the side of my head, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear before trailing his fingers down the vulnerable side of my neck, tracing the necklace he had given to me as a wedding gift from which an onyx pendant hung as he went, down the ridges of my collarbones, and down the exposed skin on my chest. His touch sent shivers down my body making me arch towards him as my eyes fluttered close.
"My father has always told me that it is bad luck to lie with a woman before a battle." I heard him say in a low voice that revealed his arousal as his other hand came to hold me at my waist.
"And why is that?" I questioned, opening my eyes to meet his.
"Because then all a man would be able to think of as he rides into battle the next morning is the taste of her skin on his tongue, the feeling of having her tight cûnt to warm his côck, and the beautiful sight of seeing her finally come undone."
