Robb. (M)

“It’d be my pleasure, Your Grace,” Robb smiles devilishly. You can only grasp at the sadistic, perverted thoughts that must be running through his demented head.

He climbs onto the silk-strewn bed, crawling towards you at an agonizingly slow pace. His movements mimicked those of a ravenous wolf stalking its cornered prey. Robb stops inches from your position only to rise on his knees to display his body to you, a show of dominance. You’re left staring at the King in the North in all his naked glory.

Pale blue eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you practically eye-worshipping him, lips curved into a wicked grin. "Yes, my little lion. That's it. Take it all in," he teases, emphasizing by running his hands along his tantalizing torso. His body was trim: solid and graceful, with some visible muscle, but not swollen and hulking - a runner, more than a weightlifter. Jutting between his legs rested eight inches of cock practically throbbing before your eyes, eager to be buried inside of you. Mother's mercy! He's huge!