He kissed the back of her neck, his hot lips dragging down her sweaty shoulder. Her skin tasted of salt and heat, her hair a wild mess tangled between his face and her shoulder. Her ass was divine; plush, bouncy, the perfect cushion that met his thrusts with just the right amount of resistance. It clapped softly with each grind, and Wylis found himself speeding up, unable to stop.
"Ahhmmmhhh…" Ashara moaned, loud and shattered, the sound muffled but soaked in desperation. She knew what it was, but it felt better, hotter than other times. This was her first climax with a man.
Her whole body seized, thighs clenching around his cock as the pleasure ripped through her. Her entire body, her ass spasmed, her delicate, feminine form quivered. Her pussy twitched violently, gushing a hot, unholy flood of nectar that painted his shaft and drenched her thighs.
She came. She actually came. Just from his cock rubbing her lower lips raw, teasing her virgin entrance, battering her clit over and over. Her cunt pulsed on his staff like it was begging to be filled, thoroughly soaked, and wild with need.
Wylis groaned sharply into her ear, hearing her release and feeling the warm gush coat his cock. It pushed him over the edge. He snarled through clenched teeth and slammed his hips one last time with all his weight, plunging Ashara deeper into the bedding, holding himself there as he spilled.
"Gaaaah~"
Ropes of thick, hot seed pulsing out of him, over and over, flooding the space between her thighs in a filthy, gooey torrent. The sound it made was vile; wet squelches echoed off the stone walls, her thighs painted in white, his cock drenched in her juices and his own. The mess was unreal, sticky, scentful, and sinful, their bodies glued together by the sheer flood of fluids.
He didn't stop right away. He kept grinding, slow and heavy, spreading their combined filth across her thighs, across her pussy lips, making her shudder again from overstimulation. Every motion made another slick noise, another lewd, soaked squelch. And the glide… the glide, was delicious. The wet slide of his still-hard cock through the mess felt like velvet on fire.
Eventually, spent, Wylis collapsed down, covering her lovely body with his own. His chest stuck to her sweaty back, their bodies sealed with the heat and humidity of what they'd just done. He kissed her neck again, softly this time.
She turned her head, lips parting, and he caught them, kissing her from the side, tender but still laced with hunger.
Her back rose and fell beneath him. Her face was flushed, her hair tangled, her expression dazed but utterly satisfied.
"Thank you… Wylis," Ashara murmured, huffing hot breath against his cheek. "I thought you'd…"
"I may look like a brute, but I'm not."
Wylis finally moved back, setting Ashara free. The view was worth a million coins, Ashara sprawled face down on the bed, a filthy hot mess between her thighs, her round, plump ass high.
He grabbed an old piece of clothing and cleaned himself before giving it to her.
"No, you're far too good-looking to be a brute," she replied, her shame finally gone, but blush remained. She wiped her thighs and legs clean. Then she got out of bed and put on her nightgown again.
Wylis wore his breeches as well, his mind clear now. But just as Ashara tried to leave the room, he stopped her with a call.
"What were you about to say back then? Let's do this then? What was that?"
Her eyes widened before her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I was going to say that… If you defeat Rhaegar in jousting. I will give you… everything."
"..."
He acted well to seem unaffected.
But his cock twitched.
Fuck! Wait, is she using her virginity as a wager or does she really want me?
It was then, with post-nut clarity, that the realization dawned.
Did I fall into a noblewoman's scheme? Was any of it real?
He hoped it was.
Thud!
Ashara left without his response. And in truth, he had none to give.
####
"Your Grace." Ashara entered Elia Martel's bedchamber in the morning, bringing with her the servants who'd wash and dress the children for the day's events. Prince Rhaegar didn't share a bed with his wife anymore, so Ashara had complete access to the room.
Weakly, Elia looked at her dear friend from the bed. "So? Any word?"
"I have given him all the hints and motivations necessary, Your Grace," Ashara replied, holding herself from blushing at the memory of the last night. "I think he'll do it."
Elia silently gazed at her friend. Judging, wondering, before speaking again. "Ashara, I hope you don't feel obliged to go beyond reason to accommodate my curiosity. He's not worth it. He's a lowborn destined to lead, at best, an average life. A tourney and a real battle are vastly different. The lords see him as a novelty, not a warrior."
"I know that, Your Grace. Rest assured," Ashara replied, keeping her thoughts to herself. "I am aware of the differences in status."
"I pray his worth matches our hopes. Rhaegar soars high, but even dragons must remember the ground."
####
The crowd of spectators was unmatched when it came to jousting. There was barely any space left to sit and watch. But by the grace of House Stark, Wylis had the lowest seats at the stands, right beside the edge beyond which was the jousting field. To his right sat Lyanna and Benjen.
The weather was sunny and clear, and it was the first day of jousting. With twenty men set to perform on the first day and twenty on the second, Wylis was set to take part the next day. That left him with the chance to watch Rhaegar Targaryen and Brandon Stark take part on the first day.
"Who do you support?" Wylis asked Lyanna.
The she-wolf grinned and elbowed him. "Certain someone—big and long."
He chuckled and relaxed in the stands. He really missed being casual and having Lyanna's carefree company. "Makes sense. Robert's going to be your husband, after all."
Lyanna frowned instantly and folded her arms, her petite breasts forming a visible cleavage through her wide neckline. She truly felt like a doomed woman. With the tourney approaching its end, she also felt her unwanted marriage creeping closer.
"Don't mention that man again to me, Wylis. I'd rather not vomit first thing in the morning."
"Oh?" He leaned closer and whispered. "Careful, folks might spread some rumors if you do that."
Right then, the crier shouted the name of the first exchange.
"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and…"
Wylis didn't even listen to the other name. His stern, furious eyes glared at the so-called silver prince. The man dressed in the finest night black plate armor. Riding atop a beautiful white horse, looking all dreamy and confident.
Why? Why is he coming here?
The crowd hadn't even stopped shouting when the Prince rode his horse towards the stands. He hadn't worn his helmet yet, so his handsome face was visible. It was something plenty of women in the realm would die for.
Wylis saw it from close and sneered inside. Rhaegar was everything he despised. A dumb bastard born in money—indecisive, disloyal, and once again, a fool. To Wylis, Rhaegar was no different from the Mad King. Only Rhaegar was chasing a different sort of mad dream.
Why here? I don't remember this happening.
"My Lady."
Wylis' fist clenched hard, the leather gloves he wore squeaked with his strength. His blue eyes coldly locked onto the Prince. He wanted to kill him right then and there. A small accident during jousting, a small misstep of the horse from earthbending. He had plenty of options.
"Your Grace," Lyanna responded to the prince.
Rhaegar bowed his head, his violet eyes locked only on Lyanna as if Wylis' giant frame didn't even exist. As if Benjen, on Lyanna's other side, wasn't there.
"My Lady, from the moment I beheld you, a quiet fire stirred within me. Your beauty, ethereal, has awakened melodies I thought long forgotten. I find myself compelled to compose songs in your honor, hoping that one day, I might have the privilege to sing them for you." Rhaegar shamelessly, openly, publicly, with his wife present, declared his desire for another woman in indirect words. "For this joust, may I receive my Lady's favor, as a token of inspiration?"
Why is he professing his desire now?
Wylis racked his brain for answers. He saw Elia's eyes wide and looking disappointed. He saw King Aerys frowning. Almost all the noble ladies were gasping and looking shocked. This was the very scandal Wylis wanted to avoid. But it happened earlier than expected.
No! Did Rhaegar anticipate losing to me?
"My favor?" Lyanna sat surprised, taken aback. She hadn't shown even an ounce of interest in the prince. But then she noticed Wylis' clenched fist, his stiff body, and his serious, cold face. She smirked and nodded. "I would be immensely honored if you would carry my favor, Your Grace."
"No, the honor is mine, my Lady." Rhaegar received a piece of cloth from Lyanna and tied it around his arm. It was icy blue, the same color as her noble robes. "I'm sure this shall bring me the blessing to overcome my rivals."
Just before Rhaegar left, his eyes met with Wylis'.
Wylis felt it. A sense of animosity between them. The prince didn't like him, it appeared.
No mercy—I'll break your fucking teeth when I face you.
______________________
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