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She’d been promised a prince when she was seven and though Tywin Lannister did give her one in the end, he was not the man she’d dreamt of in the long nine years since that vow was made. Instead of Rhaegar Targaryen, Cersei was given the brother of the woman who stole her prize. Instead of silver hair and ivory skin, she was given its shadow. Instead of serious and thoughtful, she was given wild and impulsive. Instead of the pageantry of King’s Landing, she was given the heat and sand of Dorne. Cersei thought the match unfair compared to what should have been and her father would have agreed if Tywin were capable of admitting he hadn’t gotten his way. His pride made him boast that she was marrying into a Great House while omitting it was to a second son. Her obligations made Cersei smile while she simmered in resentment to her denied destiny and thought of excuses to bring Jaime to Dorne so that she would have at least one man she desired.

Not that Oberyn Martell was undesirable. He was handsome certainly, with the darkest eyes Cersei had ever seen. A warrior of some rather interesting renown, his build was similar to Jaime’s. He stood and spoke as if he was certain there wasn‘t a man in the room that could match him. The confidence too reminded her of Jaime, though not even her twin could be so bold in their father’s presence. Oberyn was polite, of course, in their first formal meeting as a betrothed couple, but detached. All of Tywin’s formalities met a wall of nonchalance that never veered into outright disrespect but certainly danced near the edge. It vexed her as a Lannister that her future husband was so cool to the proceedings. As a woman, she could not help but be intrigued by someone with the nerve to face up against the great Tywin, Hand of the King and Warden of the West, and keep facing him with a mild smirk.

He continued to intrigue on the night of their wedding. Cersei was no shy maiden nervously stumbling towards her marriage bed. Her maidenhead was long lost to Jaime and their subsequent matings had been numerous and ardent enough to leave any ignorance of sex behind. She could have done without the other men pawing at her clothes and then her flesh once her dress had been ripped away but her husband was nothing to fear. Cersei saw the woman had stripped him bare as well when she was shoved into his room. He laid at the head of the bed watching her with those dark eyes as if cat sizing up prey. Cersei strode over to join him. A lioness was not a cat’s prey.

“Eager, are we?” he asked.

With any other man, Cersei would have feigned trepidation. She didn’t care to bother with Oberyn and sensed he was the sort who did not care either. Boldness was his coin and she intended to show him just how much she could pay.

“There’s a duty to be done,” she said simply.

“Fucking isn’t a duty.”

“I imagine there are quite a few highborn women in Westeros that would question that assessment. All of them actually.”

Oberyn shrugged. “Fucking shouldn’t be a duty.”

Of that, Cersei could agree. Her times with Jaime had been a blessing she would not erase, even if doing so would have placed Rhaegar before her now and always. To Oberyn, she merely conceded, “I’ve heard it can be…pleasant.”

“I imagine any woman who’s been fucked properly would question such a meek word as ‘pleasant’ to describe it.”

Cersei laughed in spite of herself. ‘Pleasant’ had come from her lips but the words she’d been thinking had much more wicked connotations.

The laugh did not go unnoticed. “Oh, so you’ve heard that as well?”

“A delicate maiden like me?”

He sneered at ‘delicate’, Cersei at ‘maiden’.

“Maidens are like honey. A taste is nice, but it’s too sweet for my appetite.”

That appetite was infamous throughout the South. Cersei had heard tale after tale when she’d lived with her father in the Tower of the Hand. She hadn’t believed half of them but the half she held as true were enough to make the Crone herself blush. And now here she was, set to be the heroine of another story and a minor player in the gods knew how many future tales. Cersei thought it time to stop these coy exchanges and be out with it.

“I understand your appetite is rather large and rather varied and likely not sated by the treacle called marriage.”

“You understand well,” he answered. “In truth, I wouldn’t have married at all but a dead mother’s wish for her son is a weight too heavy for me to carry. Your mother and mine were dear friends. This is what they wanted.”

“How lovely it must have been planning which of their children would fuck the other’s.”

Oberyn allowed a smile. “What’s done is done and now that we’re here, what am I to understand?”

Cersei had a litany of demands, wishes and grievances she could air. Standing naked before her marriage bed was hardly the ideal place to deliver them but Oberyn had asked. For that courtesy, she gave him an abbreviated list. “I am not chattel. You put a cloak on me, not chains. And I don’t care how fierce your appetite is, I won’t have you feasting on every piece of meat that passes by.”

“You’ve been listening to some nasty rumors. I’m a bit more particular than that,” was his only protest. He agreed with everything else and added an item that shocked Cersei - and delighted her as well. “I can be discreet when I wish and when you wish. You’ll take the same course when sating your own hunger, yes?”

“My own…” she stammered. He couldn’t possibly mean that he’d turn a blind eye to any lovers she might take, that she’d be able to keep Jaime. That alone would make this marriage better than anything else she’d hoped.

He did mean it. “I’ve no interest in staying in one bed for the rest of my life, no matter how enticing it may be. I can hardly condemn my wife for thinking the same. Just take care where any seed is spent and drink your tea when you can’t and I won’t have any qualms.”

Cersei denied any future plans to take him up on this offer. It was a lie and they both knew it but there were times when honesty would only ruin the moment. Climbing into bed and on top of your new husband with the intension of demonstrating precisely how long past your maidenhood you were qualified as such a time.

***

“He doesn’t care,” Cersei told Jaime for the hundredth time. She had thought after they’d fucked on all fours like animals rutting in the field that Jaime would be convinced of the veracity of the arrangement she had with Oberyn, but as they laid in her bed together, bodies sweaty and entwined and Jaime’s seed drying upon the small of her back, he still asked her if they ought to be more cautious.

“What man doesn’t care that his woman beds another?”

Jaime wasn’t that sort of man and his jealously charmed Cersei. She rolled over to kiss his cheek. “The sort who is my husband. He has his dalliances and I get to have mine.”

Jaime did not take this as the reassurance it was intended to be. While Cersei’s lips traveled across his mouth, onto his other cheek and then to his ear where she began nipping at the lobe, his protests continued. “Even if he doesn’t care, there are servants here that will. Servants that will report to his brother, who I dare say isn’t as broadminded as your husband.”

“A protective brother, imagine that. Because that’s what everyone here is imaging is the reason you’ve come all the way to Sunspear to see me. That’s all those servants are thinking when I told them to leave us alone. They won‘t enter without permission.”

Cersei wasn’t sure if was her words or her hand that had slithered down around Jaime’s cock that convinced him he had little to fear. Either way, he gave up arguing and let his mouth become occupied with licking her nipple to hardness instead. It proved distraction enough for both that neither noticed the entrance of the one person who needn’t knock to gain entrance to Cersei’s room.

Cersei hadn’t been entirely correct. Oberyn Martell did care, but it was far from outrage that he felt. “I guess this explains why you never found my mocking of my good-brother’s heritage amusing.”

Jaime was out of the bed and lunging for a weapon in an instant. It was quite the lunge as he and Cersei had torn the clothes from each other the moment they’d closed the door and the belt that had held his dagger and inhibited his breeches from being removed had been flung by an impatient Cersei into the far corner of the room. Oberyn made no move to stop him and even seemed impressed with the speed with which Jaime moved. It was a lovely sight watching the naked, muscled body of her twin move with such grace. Oberyn seemed to agree. He sat down on the bed beside Cersei so that they could enjoy the view together.

“Just tell me he’s not so quick abed,” he asked.

Jaime soon felt foolish threatening a man whose gaze wasn’t even on the dagger in his hand but an area further down. He tossed the dagger aside and conceded, “He doesn’t care.”

Despite her victory on that front, Cersei felt the need to clarify how little her husband would continue to care. “You won’t speak of this to anyone, yes?”

“Not sure who would believe me, though it is a wonderfully salacious tale.”

“Do not mock us,” Jaime warned.

Oberyn was less intimidated by this than the dagger. “Mock the loving bonds between a brother and his sister? Certainly not. Gods, and I thought Elia and I are close. You don’t mind if I tell her? You understand how siblings like to share.”

Jaime bristled but Cersei knew her husband’s humor. His temperament as well. He wouldn’t betray a trust once he’d given his word and his blithe reaction to the truth told her that Oberyn saw no reason to not give that word. The only thing that worried her was the grin upon his face as he watched Jaime. That wasn’t coming from self-satisfaction with his japes. That was the same grin he gave her before he pressed his tongue into her mouth or slid his hand up under her dress.

Oberyn hadn’t denied that particular part of his reputation when she‘d dared to ask. In fact, he’d been blunt and cavalier as he ever was in counting his male lovers. It was shocking news, and any wife would have been justified to express dismay, but Cersei hadn’t been able to muster any. She had her own qualms about the dictates of society. There were those who would have damned her to all seven hells for the love she shared with Jaime. Was she to pledge her lot with them in judging Oberyn? She thought not.

But that was when Oberyn bedding another man was in the abstract. He’d been honest but not open and Cersei had never asked for details. An uneasiness stirred within her watching her husband leer at her twin. Did Oberyn truly wish to take Jaime as he would her? What would that taking even be?

She recalled the feel of Oberyn’s lips and the mixture of soft, lingering kisses and the rougher, urgent ones that left her skin red and glistening. She recalled his hands gliding across her body and how readily his tongue would follow his fingers towards the insides of her thighs. What difference would it make if he found a cock instead of a cunt when Oberyn explored further on? She and Jaime were so alike. Surely the touches that elicited moans and sweet sighs from Cersei would do the same for her twin.

Her recollections shifted to fancies. It was her brother’s body writhing underneath her husband’s. It was Jaime’s cries that sounded when Oberyn thrust into him. Cersei flushed hot and her sex wet as she let her daydream take its course.

So lost she’d been in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard the further exchanges between Jaime and Oberyn. Jaime had relaxed his stance; Oberyn’s words and gaze remained wicked. She could use this.

“Please, husband,” she said, breathless and leading, “whatever can we do to convince you to remain silent?” She added pouting lips and batted eyes for good measure.

Jaime scoffed but Oberyn seemed to catch her meaning. “Are you trying to entice me, wife? I must admit, you alone have much to offer, but is it enough?”

“And if it was not me alone?”

“Only a fool would deny such an offer.”

“And you,” she drawled as she inched closer to him, “are no fool.”

Jaime was eager to play that part. “What in seven hells are the two of you talking about?!”

Oberyn arched an eyebrow at Cersei to get permission to answer. She nodded. “Your sister and I have decided that the best way to ensure that I do not share your secret is to share in your secret.”

It was wrong to laugh, Cersei knew, at the befuddled expressions upon Jaime’s face as he worked through the meaning of Oberyn’s answer, but his innocence was too sweet not to take delight in.

“He can’t be serious,” Jaime hissed to her through gritted teeth. Cersei only thought of that mouth soon opening in a gasp in response to either hers or Oberyn’s or even both of their ministrations.

“It’s the only way,” Cersei lied. She did him the kindness of trying to persuade him sweetly. She rose from the bed and went to his side, taking his hand in hers while she reasoned with him. “It’s a fair price, an afternoon of pleasure with my husband and my lover so that I may keep both. And I tell you, Jaime, you will enjoy paying it.”

He would do anything for her, her twin. Jaime always had. He may chafe or fret but he always came around. This time was no different. He gave his assent and let Cersei lead him back to the bed. She instructed him to lie down on his back.

“My brother does me a great favor, husband. I think it only fair we do great favors for him.”

Oberyn nodded and began stripping off his clothes while Cersei attended to Jaime with kisses along his neck. He tried to pull her down to him but she would only go so far as to lay by his side. “We must leave room for my husband,” she chided.

Jaime’s hands stilled. “You want this,” he said.

Whether it was a question or an accusation Cersei answered it with more kisses, these planted along his chest. Her own hands became active, one taking Jaime’s to guide it to her breast and the other working its way through his golden hair. Oberyn was ready then. He sat on Jaime’s other side watching Cersei as if to learn her rhythms. The observation only lasted so long. Oberyn was a man of action after all and a very fast study.

Jaime tensed at the first touch on his thigh. Cersei whispered at him to relax, an instruction that readily became unnecessary as Oberyn’s practiced hands went straight for Jaime’s cock. The pale, pink flesh being worked by tanned fingers made for an interesting contrast. Cersei would have helped but thought it would ruin the image. Instead, she spoke into Jaime’s ear, whispering of all the ways he had taken her before and all the ways she wanted him to take her in the future. She cooed memories of the first time she’d taken his cock into her hand and how he’d grunted and grinded against that hand until he’d come.

History repeated in a spurt of seed and a low moan. “My Jaime, my sweet Jaime,” Cersei murmured. She collected the milky thread from the tip of his cock onto her finger and put it to her lips. “My dear, sweet brother.” Like a drabble of honey, she licked it all up. She moved to give Jaime another kiss but turned and gave it to her husband. She kept her mouth open, the better for Jaime to see Oberyn’s tongue sliding inside to get a taste of the seed she’d found so delectable. When she finally broke the kiss to give Jaime his due, Cersei knew she’d done well.

Jaime was smiling.

“There’s more to come,” she promised her twin. To Oberyn, she motioned to the table across the room and instructed him to retrieve an item from its drawer. While Oberyn was away, Cersei returned her attention to Jaime. His cock was spent but still provided a lovely friction against her sex after she straddled him. Oberyn was back to the bed a bit too soon at first but soon enough after he handed Cersei the bottle she’d wanted. She tossed the stopper away and dabbed a finger into the oil it contained.

Cersei held the glistening finger out for Jaime to see. His eyes, lidded with pleasure, blinked twice and then opened wide when she slid the finger between his legs and into him.

“Slowly, slowly,” Oberyn advised. Cersei tried to listen. She removed her finger to gather more oil and took her time running it along the rim of his entrance but once she pushed in again, she just wanted to go deeper. Jaime didn’t seem to mind. His smile was back. Nonetheless, Oberyn poured some oil out on his own fingers to give a thorough demonstration of his technique.

Slow was sweet, as evidenced by the arching of Jaime’s back as Cersei and Oberyn moved within him. She’d added a second finger and was going to ask her husband to add to his count as well, but she had another thought.

“I do believe he’s ready for something thicker,” she said. Much thicker, she thought with a downward glance towards her husband. She picked up the bottle of oil.

But Oberyn took it from her and handed it to Jaime. “You have my promise I’ll never tell a soul about you and your sister and I will keep that promise even if you get up now and never so much as look at me again. This is your choice.”

Jaime looked from Cersei to Oberyn and back again. Oberyn was passive while Cersei urged him on with a nod. Without a word, Jaime upended the bottle onto his hand. The oil poured out on his palm, coating it and sending drizzling trails down onto his chest. The bottle nearly empty, Jaime set it aside.

“I’ve made a mess, sweet sister, dear good-brother. Will you help me clean it?”

They did. Not a drop of the oil went to waste. Three sets of hands collected it off Jaime’s skin – his and Cersei’s spreading their gatherings along the length of Oberyn’s cock while Oberyn, per Jaime’s request, resumed his earlier task.

“No offense,” Jaime breathed, “He’s just a bit more practiced at it, I’d say.”

Cersei conceded that and made promises that this would not be the truth in the future. Jaime was about to make another jape when Oberyn grabbed his hips. “I think we’re done talking.”

There was speech, albeit of a crude sort. The sight of her brother on his back, his hands grasping at the sheets and his hips bucking upward to meet the thrust of her husband brought a low grunt from Cersei. As lovely as it was, she wasn’t satisfied with merely watching and since her fingers were already slick…

The men finished before she did. Panting and gloriously exhausted, they took their turn watching and found the same contentment Cersei had. Her fingers soon had welcome company along the curves of her sex. Cersei was laughing when she came, the absurdity of the whole situation only heightening her delight. Her partners grinned too, though one of them decided he’d had his fill.

Cersei swore Jaime was disappointed when Oberyn left the bed and gathered his discarded clothes. She was.

“I’ll leave you two to each other’s company,” he said as if they’d just spent the past hour in idle chatter. “You might want to lock the door after me.”

Both twins were too tired and sated to move. They curled against each other in the bed, Cersei rethinking what had happened and wondering if there was an excuse to make it happen again.

Jaime, ever her mirror, finally said, “I’m not certain I’d be persuaded if I were your husband. I think I’d need a bit…more.”

“Of course, of course,” she agreed. “There are so many more arguments to be made.”

“And so many ways to make them.”

That would be for another day. Jaime fell into a light sleep and Cersei found a different kind of satisfaction watching the rise and fall of his chest. She’d dreamed once of having a certain prince and railed against getting another, but the deals that had been struck to get her to this moment had been far better bargains than she ever could have imagined. Whatever further prices had to be paid, she’d gladly give the coin.