AN: Response to a Tumblr prompt for Oberyn/Lya getting it on in semi-public places. And then getting caught.
Touch me all night long
"If you're not quiet, we'll be caught."
"As if that's not your goal, you ass."
Oberyn chuckled against his wife's neck. Her words, and lips, were pouting, and Oberyn couldn't help but press his lips to hers. It was meant to be an innocent peck, but as he currently had her pressed against the wall and was balls deep inside of her, innocence quickly turned to lust. Soon, they were both panting as they broke the kiss, him still thrusting in and out.
"Crap," she muttered into his shoulder. "I'm close."
"Then let's see if we can't push you over."
She threw her head back and let out a low moan as he sped up his thrusts. He buried his face against her neck, letting out his own groan against her skin, finishing with one last hard thrust.
"I still don't understand how she could have mar- what the fuck?"
Lyanna had just finished straightening her dress and Oberyn had buttoned his pants when her brother Ned and his best friend – and Lyanna's ex – Robert Baratheon turned around the corner to the hall where she and Oberyn had been… expressing their love. Oberyn's shirt was still undone, showing off his muscular chest, and he smiled pleasantly at the other two men as Lyanna busied herself with buttoning it up.
"Hello gentlemen," he greeted genially. "Lyanna pointed out that I missed a button my shirt. We thought I best fix it, before joining you all for the engagement party."
Robert's face had turned an alarming shade of red, and he took several steps in Oberyn's direction before Ned managed to get in front of him and hold him back. Her brother gave Lyanna a long, exasperated look that made Lya shrug even as she blushed. Oberyn just met his brother-in-law's gaze with an unashamed look of his own.
"You Dornish bastard!" Robert hissed, and Lya could see the tendons in Ned's arms strain as Robert tested the strength of his hold. "Treating her like some sort of whore!"
That wiped the small grin off of Oberyn's face, and his dark eyes narrowed into slits. He took several steps of his own toward the other man, but Lya had begun to knot his tie, and her grip on the cloth made him come up short, lest her hold strangle him.
"Careful, Baratheon," Oberyn growled. "I put up with the way you watch my wife, the way you insult me, merely out of respect for Ned and Catelyn. But my tolerance only goes only so far."
"Is that a threat?" Robert replied angrily. "Let go of me, Ned. Let the bastard come at me! Let's see if he has the balls!"
"Both of you stop!" Lya said, her voice slightly louder than she meant for it to be, and it made all three of the men jump. She bit back the curses that immediately wanted to come off of her tongue. Instead, she tugged on Oberyn's tie and softened her voice. "And you hold still. You'll ruin my knot if you keep pulling at it like that."
She could feel the tension in his body as she finished knotting the tie, and smoothed it down his firm chest. She rested her hands there, enjoying his warmth and offering him a silent reassurance that Robert Baratheon and his insults couldn't bother her. The tension was thick in the hall as Oberyn gazed down at Lya, and Robert and Ned stood behind them, simply watching. Lya thought her silent reassurances might not be enough when Oberyn's eyes, still angry, darted toward Robert, but then he glanced down at her again and they softened, and Lya knew the danger had passed.
"Of course," Oberyn said, taking one of her hands in his own. It was warm, and calloused, and strong, and the way it engulfed hers made Lya feel almost delicate, though that wasn't a word that was often associated with her. He lifted her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I apologize, Lyanna. And to you as well, Eddard. I allowed my temper to get the better of me. Shall we rejoin your bride and family?"
"Of course," Ned agreed, and Lya hadn't realized how tense her brother was until she saw his shoulders relax, and his grip on Robert soften.
Sadly, Robert seemed determined to be, well, Robert, and he didn't want to simply let things go.
"He was fucking your sister in the damn hall, Ned!" the man roared, and Lya thought her ears might be ringing from the volume. Hadn't the man ever heard of moderation? "He had her against the wall, and you're just going to let him treat your sister like a whore."
Oberyn didn't hesitate to go for Robert's face, and Lya buried her face in her hand as her husband's fist came in contact with the other man's cheekbone. She considered getting in between them, but quickly discarded the thought. She was brave and fierce, but she was by no means stupid. Both men had close to a foot and a hundred pounds on her. She looked at Ned who had backed off as well, because her brother also was not stupid, and he gave a sigh as she stepped over to his side while Robert and Oberyn rolled around on the floor.
"Did it have to be the hall, Lya?" he asked, his voice more resigned than disapproving.
"Are you saying you disapprove, or that you're jealous?" Lya shot back. Ned raised an eyebrow at her, making her shrug. "What? Cat is a pretty woman, you're a healthy man. Are you really telling me you've never-?"
"We're not discussing this, Lya," Eddard replied dryly. "I'm not discussing this with my baby sister. We need to separate them. I'll go get Brandon."
"I didn't hear a 'no' in there!" Lya called at his back, smirking slightly. The smirk fell away when she looked at Oberyn and Robert once more. She heard a tear and winced, hoping that it wasn't Oberyn's shirt. She liked to sew, was actually really good at sewing, but replacing all the buttons on a shirt? Gods, but that would be tedious work.
She was contemplating getting a pail of ice water when she heard the rush of steps and Ned and Brandon came around the corner. Brandon took one look at the men on the ground, and threw his head back to laugh. Lya loved Brandon's laugh – it was full bellied and loud, almost more of a bark than a laugh – but she didn't particularly appreciate it when it was aimed at her brawling husband.
"Okay, boys, let's break it up!" he said, stepping over to the fighting forms, still chortling. "Ned, you get Oberyn. I've got your fool of a best friend."
Between the two of them, her brothers managed to drag to the two men apart. All four, even Ned, were cursing angrily by the time they managed to pull them apart. Oberyn and Robert strained against the grips on them, and Lya smoothly stepped in between them. She ignored Robert, because it had been years since he had been her problem, and he would have to deal with his petty jealousies on his own. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at Oberyn. The rip had, in fact, been his shirt, and she felt her scowl tighten when she looked at the ruined cloth.
"You're an ass," she informed him bluntly when he ceased cursing and realized that he was now facing down a very irritated wife rather than Robert. The way the color faded from his cheeks, and his eyes turned from burning rage to dread, pleased Lya more than she could say. Her husband was an ass, but he, like she and Ned, was not stupid.
He knew she was not pleased.
"Lya-" he began with his charming, sparkling grin, the one that he knew gave him the best chance at lessening her ire. Sadly for him, she was beyond the grin, and it quickly faded when she just continued to look unimpressed. Ned, realizing that Oberyn wouldn't be going for Robert again, released his grip and stepped around Lya and out of the line of fire.
"You let him get to you. We've been together for five years, married for three, and you still let him get to you?"
"He called you a-"
"I know what he said. But Robert's always been a jealous idiot" – she ignored said man's annoyed growl, because she hadn't been with him for over seven years, and he needed to get over it already – "and you let him get under your skin. He always calls you a Dornish bastard. It really shouldn't bother you at this point."
"I don't care what he says about me… but he insinuated – he's an ass."
"You treated her with disrespect!" Robert shouted, and Lya whirled around to him, her glare darkening even further.
"Shut up, Robert!" she said, glaring at him. "What I do with my husband and where I do it isn't your business. And you don't get an opinion on it. If I want him to screw me in the back of his Maserati in a parking lot, you don't get to say anything about it. Because it's our marriage, and no matter how many times you bait Oberyn, that won't change."
"He doesn't deserve you!" Robert replied desperately. "He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't treat you as you deserve. He treats you-"
"Like a woman?" Lyanna asked wryly, her anger fading in the face of Robert's desperation. He was sad, and pathetic, and not worth her anger. "That's why we would have never lasted, Robert. Because you were so determined to put me on some bizarre pedestal of purity when the truth is? I like a good screwing as much as the next red blooded woman."
"Lya!" Brandon whined, and his expression was a pained as Robert's was gobsmacked at her crudity.
"Oh, get over it Brandon. I like sex. Oberyn and I have a healthy sex life. It's a fact."
"A fact I like to ignore," Brandon muttered darkly. "It's a wonder you haven't gotten pregnant yet, the way you two carry on."
"I am," Lya replied, with crossed arms, and then she froze. She hadn't meant to announce it like that, bluntly and to the world. Her brothers mirrored her shocked expression, Robert looked as though she had kicked his dog, and the only expression she really cared about was the one on the face of the man behind her, the only one she couldn't see.
"You are?" she heard him croak, and Lya wasn't sure what to do or say. She felt his hand on her shoulder, felt him spin her around, and she looked up at him, his dark eyes staring down into hers. He already had four girls, girls that Lya loved. They had spoken of having a child of their own, but they hadn't put a timeline on it. Lya wasn't sure if he would want it or not.
"You are?" he asked again, his hands trailing up her arms to frame her cheeks. Once again, he made her feel delicate, and she felt a small smile begin to curl her lips. He didn't look disappointed, and she really wanted this. She wanted this baby that they had made together.
"I am," she replied, still smiling, and slowly, so slowly, a smile curved his lips as well. Then he gave a loud whoop that made her jump and lifted her into his arms, spinning her around.
"You're pregnant!" he said when she regained her feet, and her bearings. One hand came down to rest over her stomach; the other brushed some hair away from her face. She was vaguely aware of her brothers leaving them, dragging Robert with them, but she didn't care. Instead she continued to smile up at Oberyn, relieved to finally be able to tell him about this, and so very, very happy that he was happy.
"I was a little worried," she admitted. "That you might not be happy."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Oberyn replied, bending down to kiss her. He didn't bother with making it innocent, instead diving right in with tongue and teeth and coaxing a moan out of her.
"It wasn't planned," Lya answered when they had broken apart and her mind had cleared enough for her to answer his question.
"The best things in life never are," Oberyn replied, picking her up again. Her arms twined around his neck and they kissed once more. "I certainly never planned for you, but I couldn't be happier."
"Don't think that your sweet talking has made me forget that you punched Robert," Lya told him with her best severe look, but he smiled that smile at her and she felt herself melting. "Do you think you broke his nose?"
"No, but he'll have one hell of a black eye. Do you think they'll be coming back any time soon?" The look in his eyes as he looked at the wall told her exactly why he was asking, and she laughed and shook her head.
"Better not risk it," she advised him, before her own gaze became calculating. "We have fifteen minutes before Cat will kill us for not appearing… I know there's a laundry room down the hall that isn't used all that often."
Oberyn laughed and kissed her again and headed for the room she pointed at.
They made it to the rehearsal dinner with exactly thirty seconds to spare.