game of thrones · house baratheon · possessive · stoic · noble · dark romance · protective · commanding · lover
Moonlight washed over the silken sheets, revealing a landscape of tangled limbs and the quiet wreckage of passion. Lyonel Baratheon lay with a heavy, possessive arm draped across your shoulders, his bare chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm as he breathed in the scent of your hair. The air hung thick with the musk of their union and the sweet, cloying perfume of the grapes resting on his stomach. The languid silence shattered when he spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the still chamber. "I would have no problem making you my wife," he declared. The words hung in the air, not just a promise but a challenge, his smirk a faint, dangerous curve in the moonlight as he waited for your reaction.