Her words continued to remain on his mind. He repeated them as he looked upon her. As if Robb could not believe that they were true, that they came from those lips of hers, and were directed at him. He could feel the heat rising between the pair of them from the moment they had a proper meeting. To have Margaery there looking upon him as she had made the shared walk necessary, for there was nothing to be done with how they looked upon one another in the company of others. Not that he would dare to think that any look exchanged between one another was truly noticed by the others. Perhaps Sansa. Only with how frosty his relationship with his sister had been he would not expect her to repeat anything to him, even if she remained close with the woman that was managing to prove that there was another world that he was meant to be partaking in. One far from the one he was still so attached to regardless that it had brought him to his end.
It was not his sister that was upon his mind as he carried on with Margaery. She was distracting him in all the best ways. Often it felt as if she was the only one who understood him as well as the only one who did not seem to ask many questions about things he did not wish to answer. A certain bond formed as she came to Winterfell and he began to get to know her. Another that opened him up to what life after the tragedies had to offer. He was doing his best in order to not think with the parts of him that got him into trouble prior. His head needed to rule what was, not his heart or his cock. She proved to be the greatest test of such things, certainly with his words. Spending his time with a Northern lady from a known family would gain him far more favor with the lords. Only his interests seemed to be of the Southron variety. If they were to perish by what lies on the other side of the wall perhaps he should live the life he wished to. Not the one he thought others wished.
The moment that he backed her up against the bark of the tree he knew that what reservation he had was going to be no longer. The desire found him all too quickly as he wanted nothing more than to feel alive with her. She was the only one to ignite such a fire inside of him. As the moon rose he often found himself wondering just how big the fire could grow within him. For so long Robb seemed to be the king who only grew cold. No time wasted as the words ignited such a large flame he could not resist. Certainly there was no more thinking as he found himself wishing to be with her entirely. The thought of sheathing himself within her walls had been on his mind for longer than he would admit to her. A certain relief sought with nothing but his hand as he thought of things that only caused him to hold guilt once morning came. No guilt found him then as he had fist fills of her skirt, looking upon her with desire in his eyes, letting her feel the arousal that was beginning to find him. Oh, how he craved her more than his words had allowed. It was his body that spoke for itself. No longer was anything hidden between the two of them. No dance needed as they only seemed to truly desire on another. At her question he did not reply at the moment. Rather he allowed a hand to slip beneath her skirts, letting the material fall around him, the palm of his hand meeting the warm flesh of her thigh, eying her as if he was not daring to touch her at all. “Quite some time.” He admitted softly, inching himself closer to her, lips brushing against her own without giving her the kiss he knew all too well the both of them ached for. “I do not believe either of us have made it any sort of secret, have we?” Rather they had both shown how excellent their self control could be as they looked upon one another but dared not to touch. No longer did that seem anything either of them was interested in as he finally pressed his lips against her own, giving them the first kiss that was long overdue.
Ever since she had rose from the ashes, all Margaery Tyrell knew was of fire. It felt as if the green flames were in her blood, just underneath her flesh that remained as pristine and clear as the day she was first born into the world. She had not known the cold since her rebirth, had never felt it, had never shivered because of it. She was fire, she was warmth, yet in Robb Stark’s embrace, his skin was the first true sense of cold she had experienced. His cold skin, ice cold to the touch was one of the first true reliefs she had experienced. She craved it, craved him and filled with the thought of belonging to him as she wanted him to belong to her. Was such a desire truly built entirely of sin? Or desperation to want to belong, to find semblance of a life given to them both a second time? Did they not deserve this? With the feel of his hands lifting her skirts, her own hands wandering, under the guide of his as they came between her legs, a soft gasp escaping her and her own hand sought out the bulge of his arousal. A soft pant coming forth, chest heaving slightly as the palm of her hand started to rub against him, melting at the feeling of his hardened flesh, transfixed at the feel of it growing harder.
His lips were a tease, and perhaps if she were in another time, she would tease him as well. Yet life was so fleeting, for one moment, she did not want to play games. Doe eyes looking into his, dazed with lust and desire, tongue wetting her lips as a shudder finds her at the feel of his lips. “Mm,” comes from her at his words. “I can feel it,” as would he, with the way his hand went. She had managed well, so many years of being untouched. The prided virgin wife of Highgarden, so unfortunate to be thrice married and unbed. Yet with Robb that crumbled. Wanting to be touched. To have her desire known, lusts fulfilled. Yet laughter find her, short and fleeting — but there, as she looked up at him and shook her head lightly. “We have not. I should feel shameful for that....Yet I do not.” Not even a little, she realized.
And then she felt it, the feel of his lips against her own that made her release a heated gasp, heart fluttering within her chest as she let out a moan. Once again, his touch was a relief within her, a hand raised to cup his cheek, fingers to stroke his beard, and raise into those Tully red curls, grasping and squeezing as lips parted, opened as tongue slid within his own. Deep inhale, skin tingling, his taste flooding her senses and her heated skin felt a gentle cooling wash over her. Tongue rolling against his own, her hand falling down his neck, shoulder, arm, all the way to his wrist that was at her thigh. It was brazen, yet were they not past such things at the moment? Teeth catching his bottom lip, biting, tugging as she guided his hand between her legs, cunt bare and allowing him to touch her, to feel the wanton desire dripping and making itself known. “I want them to see,” she breathed against his lips. “For the Gods to see what they’ve made of us... For bringing us back... Make me yours, Robb Stark.”