Ransom

The Red Viper pressed his lips against Darkstar's ear. "What are you going to do by way of ransom?"

Darkstar felt his knees go weak, struggling to keep them steady rather than to get free. He was no blushing maiden, after all, and swooning at the touch of Prince Oberyn Martell would not do.

The feeling of anger at being defeated, and with such a base trick at that subsided, as Oberyn's lips pursued their way farther down his temple and cheekbone.

I want him, he realised. Right now I want him more than I have ever desired a woman. This wasn't good news, but even if all the rumours about the Red Viper were true, he'd still be able to live with it. Because he really was no blushing maiden.

"What would you prefer to have?" he whispered. His hand, originally put on the prince's biceps to keep him from encircling his throat with his spear-arm, moved upwards. Like the grip to have him surrender had rather turned into an embrace, his own touch became a caress. As Oberyn's lips proceeded down his jaw to the side of his neck, Darkstar leaned against the warm skin of the other man, mingling the sweat their fight had caused to break out.

Would it will flow freely for another reason. I really want him.

The skin of the other man was warm and soft and supple, covering hard muscles and a body to die for. The hot hardness pressing against his buttocks made Darkstar move them a bit in response.

And I want him on the spot!

Prince Oberyn dropped the spear he had still been holding to trace the lines of Darkstar's lips with his fingertips. Darkstar bit his finger, then licked it, sucking it in; all the time very much aware of the other hand the Red Viper used to undo the lacing of his trousers. When the warm calloused fingers assuredly coiled around his stiffening member, he was ready to pay his ransom twice over.