AMARANTHINE - [OBERYN MARTELL]

Deflowered

                    

This chapter contains mature themes, such as explicit sex depictions. Reader discretion is advised.

Two days since their little argument and there they were. She was nervous and that question was better fit to be asked by the princess, who sat at the bed at a loss. What could she expect? She honestly wanted to know how his hands felt on her, how his lips would kiss hers... And how he would feel inside her. She knew it, being deflowered was supposed to hurt. She didn't want the pain, she couldn't bear it, but still was curious. More curious, actually, than scared. And, also, she needed him to be smitten with her, so she could carry on with her plans. Hopefully, she would find the way to his heart through his bed. He was supposed to be insatiable, at least with the whores, his lovers... She would have to be good. She had to.

Alyssa watched him. He was handsome, his dark skin, his pitch black eyes, the beard covering his jaw... He was definitely attractive and she noticed that the first time they saw each other, even if back then she was only a little girl with no knowledge of sexual attraction at all, she thought Oberyn to be the most handsome man ever seen. Who would think she would, one day, be married to that very same man? And it was all Rhaegar's fault. Every bit of this marriage, his own fault.

"Love." She answered after a few moments. "You said we would make love."

That sly attempt at a joke put a devious smile on his face. He looked upon her face, seeing there that unmistakable glint in her eyes, the one she always had when they were about to fight. He used to think that sparkle in the lovely purple eyes was anger. Now, he did not. It was something else entirely: longing. Alyssa was much like a thunderstorm. Her emotions were fluid and ever changing. It was never a dull moment with Alyssa Velaryon.

"And how do you want this to be?" He watched her cheeks become gradually blushed, but Alyssa did not avert her eyes.

"...I don't know. I am not the most experienced lover in the room."

"Sarcasm looks good on you. That and the blushing in your cheeks." She touched her face only to state that he wasn't lying. Her smooth skin felt hot under her palms, it made her feel even more self-conscious.

"Stop playing around, Oberyn." She retorted, hoping he would soon undress himself and be done with it. She would rather deal with the pain than with his jokes on her. She stood up, her hands flying to the laces behind her. If he wouldn't stop mocking her, she would make the first move.

Oberyn walked to her, holding her wrists delicately. There was no need for strength, since his only reason to that was stopping her. And when he touched her, she did. Her eyes searched for his, his viper eyes, so dark she could see herself reflected on them. Her heart was beating fast, his low voice tickled her ears.

"Allow me."

Finally. She turned around, soon feeling the warmth of his hands lingering on her back. It was hard to focus on anything else. And Oberyn knew she would be curious. It was her first time after all, after months of waiting and piles of expectation. He took his time. One of his hands slid down her braided tresses, silky threads of pure silver. His fingers undid them, allowing her light hair to flow unhindered.

Trembling under his touch, Alyssa didn't really know what to think of it. She thought, and she really did, that he wouldn't be this delicate around her. Maybe taking his long list of lovers as a sign, Alyssa expected Oberyn to be some kind of a perverted creep, maybe a selfish lover too, caring only about his pleasure. The way he touched and undid the laces of her dress, though... It didn't match what she anticipated.