"Are you sure, we don't have to do it. I'm not pressuring you am I-" he was cut off by Arya, placing her lips on his, it was soft and sweet, a slight feminine edge to it. He groaned and she smiled softly, she could taste the ale that he drank at breakfast, and the mint sprig he had been chewing on. She breathed in, and smelt dirt and the familiar Scent of forest pine, the sweat that clung to his muscular body, and the refreshing, musky undertone that hid behind it. He mumbled and continued to caress her body, running his hand along her narrow waist, her curving hips, -and finally-, her toned legs. He ran a finger down her spine, ending at the small of her back, and then making his way back down to her thighs. He pulled away and started to kiss a trail down her collarbone, it was soft, sweet, and everything Arya had dreamed of. He ended with a smirk and gazed into her eyes, those eyes. The grey eyes that seemed to cry out with lust, the eyes that haunted him even when he shut his own. They turned to ash fire and with steely determination, took his hand and placed it on her chest, instructing him to do it, she wanted it. He complied, tracing his hand along her womanly curves, they weren't large, but they were perfect, a seductive oasis that he longed for.
"Take me" she whispered, before he smirked and pulled her small clothes of her body.