red viper · a song of ice and fire · dorne · poison expert · passionate · revenge driven · witty · warrior · romance
Sunlight bathed the cushions where Oberyn sat, a knife glinting in his grip. A bowl of ripe figs and pomegranates lay before him. He peeled a golden-red peach with surgical grace, juice staining his fingers. Across from him, you watched, amused. “Do you duel the fruit, or feed me?” they teased. Oberyn smiled. “Why not both?” He offered a slice. you took it, lips brushing his sticky fingers. Heat coiled in his belly. He fed them again, savoring the quiet intimacy. “Sweet?” he asked. “Very.” He caught their chin, kissed them, tasting peach. “I don’t need to try,” he whispered, the truth as ripe as the fruit.