baelor who, upon learning that you had never learned how to ride a horse due to an irrational fear, vowed to teach you himself.
several days later, he would make good on that promise, as he always did.
“hold the reins like this–a bit tighter,” baelor guides, demonstrating how firm he wanted your grip to be with his hands, which were clasped around his own horse’s reins.
he was perched upon his steed, side by side with you, and had spent the last few minutes showing you the basics. of course, that was after he had depleted some time convincing you to even sit atop the horse; reassuring promises that he would never let anything befall you whispered against your hair as he held you.
“here, let me,” he began, suddenly unmounting from his horse.
baelor gently removed your foot from the stirrup and then, with ease, swung his leg up and around your horse, adjusting himself until your back was flush with his front.
you could feel the muscles of his thighs surrounding the sides of yours, the scorching temperature from his body radiating into your own. it felt like you were held by a furnace, one that was capable of seeping through your clothes and flesh to warm a spot that resided deep inside of you.
his rough, calloused palms covered the sensitive backs of your hands, their large expanse easily enveloping yours. everything about him was bigger, overwhelmingly so, from the length of his legs to the width of his shoulders; it made you dizzy with excitement.
instinctively, you leaned further back into his sturdy embrace, ignoring his inquiries and instructions to press your face into his neck.
“you’re not listening,” baelor mumbled against your temple, his thumbs rubbing circles over your knuckles.
“I’m your instructor and–gods,”
you pressed an open mouth kiss to his throat, smiling when he groaned quietly.
tenderly, he redirected your face forward with a hand on your jaw, “I want you to learn,” he said earnestly, scooching forward until his lower half was snug against your backside, “there, hold it like this.”
“is that better?” you asked after a moment, mimicking his hold on the reins.
“excellent, sweet girl,” he murmured beside your ear, a flutter of warmth spreading through your abdomen at the praise, “now, give her sides a light squeeze with your thighs, this will encourage her to move forward."
you obeyed, struggling to focus on his words now that his voice had taken on a deeper timbre, one that he only used when he was–
“good girl, just like that,”
you whimpered softly at his words, turning to look up at him, “I don’t want to learn anymore,” you twisted your torso further to press wet, desperate kisses against the side of his mouth, jaw, and throat.
“you must,” baelor replied patiently, his nose buried in your hair, “if you wish to receive your reward.”
a reward?
you looked up at him curiously, eyes wide and clear with a newfound focus.
he nudged the horse forward, slowly at first, until you were more comfortable. eventually, you took over, following his teachings with a look of determination.
“you’re a natural,” baelor mumbled, the warmth of his breath against your nape sending goosebumps over your flesh, “one might say, more proficient than men who have spent most of their lives riding.”
your mouth opened to respond but closed swiftly when his hips thrusted forward against your backside, increasing the speed of the mare and your racing heart.
“oh,” was all you could get out.
“like this,” baelor guided, thrusting lightly forward once more until your hips were moving in sync with his, “you want to remain fluid, never tense,”
“it hurts,” you confessed after several moments of following his movements, voice tinged with embarrassment; both of your thighs had begun to ache from the strenuous and unfamiliar motion.
baelor paused and then took over, leading the horse back to the stable.
“that’s enough for today,” he announced, whether it was for you or any possible onlookers, you didn’t know. he dismounted himself from the horse first, moving her further inside the shelter before helping you down.
“it’s all right,” he said softly when your knees gave out, catching you before you fell into the hay, “it’s not uncommon for there to be weakness in the legs after the first few times.”
baelor held you until you felt stable enough to hold your weight up on your own, which you disclosed to him with a nod.
carefully, he led you to sit on a nearby bench before bringing his hands up to his mouth to exhale over them repeatedly, as though he were warming them.
you gave him a curious look, one that was quickly answered when he kneeled in front of you and slipped his hands underneath your riding skirt, between your slightly parted legs to massage the tender flesh of your thinly clothed thighs.
“you’ll feel quite sore for the next few days,” baelor revealed absentmindedly, the heat from his hands moving from one leg to the other, fingers mildly kneading against the strained muscles.
a new wave of heat travelled up your chest and face as you watched him diligently alternate between each leg, moving to your calves and then back up to your thighs.
“better?” he asked quietly, leaning forward to press a kiss between your brows.
“nearly,” you replied with a tilt of your head, fingers threading through his coarse beard, “may I have my reward now?”
baelor chuckled and then, with a quickness that caught you by surprise, lifted you into his arms.
“yes, dearest,”
