Kick his dick. (M)

You swing a leg upward toward his crotch with all your might. As if predicting your next move, the Young Wolf moves slightly so that your foot only hits his thigh. Gods, you thought, he barely flinched. He rubs his thigh and grins at you mockingly. If your hands weren't restrained by his bastard brother, you would've punched him square in the jaw and knocked that shit-eating grin right off his face.

He cups your cheek. "You fight dirty, little lion. I like that," he teased before smashing his lips onto yours. His kiss was powerful, overwhelming. You fought back as he expected. Your teeth bit his lip and clamped down on his invading tongue. He breaks the kiss eventually and licks his own blood off his lips. It seems your aggression only served to encourage him more, delighting him even.

Unexpectedly, your door is flung open again and in walks a woman carrying a crossbow. She had thick, softly curling brown hair, large brown eyes, pale, smooth skin, and a slender, but womanly figure. "Having fun, boys? And without me?" she asks giving a playful pout. She cocks her crossbow in your direction and smiles, a crooked smile but a smile nonetheless. "Lord John! What a pleasant surprise?" she acknowledges you.

"Lady Margaery," you gasp.