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Gwayne is the last of his siblings to learn he is to marry Lord Hightower. It is an honor, he is assured, to be chosen. Gwayne is still unsure just how he was chosen. His father is a cunning man. Ser Otto Redwyne is a knight and a minor lord in his own right, but nothing compared to the Hightowers of Oldtown. Gwayne supposes his sex may have been a consideration. Male omegas are quite rare, and even more uncommon among nobility, if the Redwynes could be considered as such.
Lord Hightower’s first wife passed in the birthing bed several moons ago, though it is not too soon for him to select other, the maesters assure Gwayne. Oldtown must have its heirs and the previous Lady Hightower was unable to deliver. Male omegas are well renown for their fertility. Gwayne is an easy selection, his septa says.
Gwayne is the oldest of his siblings. The oldest, but as an omega, destined to never inherit any small boons his father might wish to leave him. Alicent is a beta, and Edmure, the youngest, is as well. Edmure will inherit, as the closest to a proficient heir their father has. However, there is still much Gwayne can and should do to secure his house and his siblings’ position. This, his lord father tells him, is one of those things.
“I think this is a matter for rejoicing,” Alicent says to him, a smile light on her lips. She first told him of his marriage to be. Edmure, still young sat in the corner as she did and frowned. He did not speak but Gwayne could sense his discontent. “Lord Hightown is surely a godly man, what with being the lord of Oldtown. He will treat you as the septons say and you will bare him heirs and make him happy.”
Gwayne knows she means well. The words however turn his stomach. He thought he had more time before he would be wed. He was just a few days after his twentieth nameday. Lord Hightower was past his thirtieth. Gwayne feels like a child, playing at being an omega wed. There are expectations of him his lord husband will have and Gwayne will not meet him. Lord Hightower was wed for over ten years before this. He has experience and expectations that Gwayne will not know and will struggle to learn.
Gwayne endeavored his whole life to be a godly omega. There are expectations and rules that he drilled into his own mind until he could recite them with his eyes closed. And yet, in the face of Lord Hightower he shrinks in fear. Fear that Lord Hightower will see him and find himself still wanting. Fear that Gwayne might never be enough to please his husband, give him heirs, and protect his brother and sister. Because of this, he resolves that he will be the most perfect omega Lord Hightower could have ever wished for. He will serve his husband in all ways and manage his new household in a way befitting of an omega to a lord such as Lord Hightower. That resolve stays strong in Gwayne until he finds himself half dressed and in front of his husband in their new bed chambers.
* * *
The wedding and dinner went smoothly. Gwayne spent years of his life going through the motions of ceremonies and prattling with lords and ladies about nothing. In those ways, he did not fear to disappoint his husband. Here, in their bedchamber he feels differently.
“My lord,” Gwayne says slowly. He chose not to look upon Lord Hightower before this moment, too intimidated. He is relieved for that now.
Lord Hightower is a handsome man. Tall, much more so than Gwayne’s slight stature, broad-shouldered, and with a sharp jaw, the alpha watches him carefully from the doorway. The ladies that dragged Lord Hightower to their bedchamber tore and shredded his clothes just as the alphas that carried Gwayne to the room had. Gwayne can see the muscle and scars that mar his husband’s chest from where he stands. He finds it unfortunately quite appealing. Gwayne raises his eyes so he does not have a reaction that is unbecoming of him.
“Did you eat enough at the supper?” Lord Hightower asks, stepping to a small table that bears bread, meat, and a carafe of wine. Lord Hightower lifts the carafe to his nose and sniffs lightly before deciding to pour a glass. He does not offer Gwayne one and Gwayne does not ask.
“Yes, my lord,” Gwayne promises. He does not meet the alpha’s eyes. It is not proper.
There is a pause. Gwayne wishes he could know what is expected. His septa gave him little guidance. He finally gathered the courage to ask her the day before.
“When I am wed - I,” Gwayne asked cheeks far redder than his hair. “What is expected of me in the bed chamber?”
The septa admonished him. “You will not ask these improper things,” she hissed. “Your lord husband will guide you and you will obey him.”
Gwayne dared not ask another. In this moment, in front of Lord Hightower, Gwayne took a moment to wish he had the courage to do so.
Gwayne had, to his shame, explored with some of the alpha stable boys when he first presented. They’d kissed him and he’d giggled and let him run their hands over his hips and up to his chest. Otto discovered this. He had the stable boys whipped bloody and forced Gwayne to watch. He never allowed another near him after that. Gwayne looks at his husband now and he knows this is a man in front of him, an alpha grown. Before, the alphas had the curious hands of boys. It will not be the same.
Gwayne takes a breathe, swallowing his fear. He will not be some fainting maiden, carrying on about performing marital duties to an alpha that elevated him and his family far higher than he could ever hope.
Lord Hightower sets the goblet of wine down and gestures for Gwayne to come to him. Gwayne does as he is bid. Lord Hightower watches him carefully, taking in his smaller frame critically. Gwayne lifts his chin so as to not be caught slouching. Lord Hightower’s hand settles on his shoulder. It is warm, but it still makes Gwayne shudder. The alpha runs his hand across his back, easily untying the laces at the back of Gwayne’s shift. The fabric falls to the floor and Gwayne bites his lip as he suddenly stands nude in front of his husband.
“Pretty creature, aren’t you,” Lord Hightower says softly. He runs his hands across Gwayne like he is an item to be possessed - but he is Lord Hightower’s possession, Gwayne corrects himself. It is his right to do as he likes with him. Gwayne shudders. He is so unaccustomed to being so exposed in front of an alpha, even if that man is his mate.
Gwayne inhales deeply. The scent of Lord Hightower fills him. It is a pleasant scent, to be sure. He smells of grass and wind and rain. He smells of safety and comfort. Gwayne should like to bury himself in that scent, but he reminds himself it far to early to feel such things for a man he knows not.
Lord Hightower coaxes him forward and Gwayne finds their mouths meeting. It is sweet. Lord Hightower kisses him gently at first and then harder, firmer. He is a man who knows what he wants and what he is due. Gwayne pulls back gasping. He cannot be wanton, he reminds himself. He cannot shame his family like that. He will endure whatever a bedding entails and he will do so silently as the septons expect.
Gwayne lets out a sudden gasp as Lord Hightower’s mouth wanders from his lips. The alpha presses sweet kisses into his mouth and cheek before landing on the curve of his neck, right where it meets his shoulder. “Oh gods,” Gwayne cries before biting his lip. Lord Hightower does not stop. He buries his tongue and teeth in that spot, worrying the skin until Gwayne feels his whole body shaking.
Lord Hightower pulls back for a moment before sweeping Gwayne up in his arms. He smiles at him for a moment before their lips find each other again. Gwayne feels his eyes drift closed gently as his alpha deposits him on their wedding bed. He releases him and presses several quick kisses up Gwayne’s jaw before pulling back to remove his own small clothes.
Gwayne shifts back on the bed in this moment, watching lustfully although he knows he should not as his husband appears unclothed before him. He is even more handsome with nothing on. Gwayne swallows and looks away so his husband will not see his wantonness.
“Do you know the manner of things?” Lord Hightower asks then.
“Yes, my lord,” Gwayne assures him, eyes low.
Lord Hightower looks at him then. Gwayne sees some degree of disbelief in his eyes. The alpha does not press the issue, however.
“As you would have it,” he says instead. He joins Gwayne on the bed.
The omega gulps, desperately trying not to shift himself away from his lord husband. Lord Hightower moves closer. Gwayne freezes himself in place. The alpha’s hand comes up gently to touch the side of his face. He brings their lips together again.
Well this is nice, Gwayne thinks, relaxing a moment. He lets his eyes drift closed. Lord Hightower does not stop kissing him. His hands come up to his hips, gentle but firm. A man who knows what he wants and what is expected. Gwayne freezes again for a moment but the alpha coaxes him out again, encouraging him to rock his hips against the alpha slowly. It feels divine. Gwayne lets out a soft noise and Lord Hightower swallows it down. They move together as one, hips still rocking and the alpha leads their rhythm. His lips find Gwayne’s neck again, worrying that spot he explored before.
Gwayne tries to meet him without eagerness. He fails.
They pull back a moment. Lord Hightower reaches down, tilting his chin towards his own. Gwayne’s eyes drift closed again as they meet. It is as sweet as the first time.
One of Lord Hightower’s hands slips low from Gwayne’s hips, reaching between his legs. Gwayne holds himself still to stop from rocking against him. He gasps for a moment as one of his lord husband’s fingers finds its way inside him. But that is just, is it not? He assures himself. He never explored as his currently does his body. Lord Hightower must expect some kind of reaction. Gwayne will allow himself no more, however, he decides.
A second finger finds its way inside and Gwayne gnaws on his lip to stop the cry that wishes to leave his mouth. Lord Hightower’s fingers are enormous and stretch him wide. He will not express his discontent. He knows his place. Besides, Lord Hightower kisses him deeper. Certainly his lord husband is pleased with him.
Though his septa refused to speak to him of the coupling between mates, Gwayne was not a fool. He heard rumors, whispers from maids and uncouth lesser ladies. Several of them spoke of oil to make the process easier. He cannot not understand why. Certainly there is enough already.
Lord Hightower pulls his fingers back then. He tosses one of Gwayne’s thighs over his shoulder, shifting their position.
“Breathe in,” he instructs. Gwayne opens his mouth to ask why and then cries out, thoughts of propriety forgotten. Lord Hightower presses his cock forward in between Gwayne’s thighs. He wants to fight, for a moment. Lord Hightower is far from small and his body feels under siege. Instead Gwayne bites his lip again until he feels tears in the corners of his eyes.
Lord Hightower stops when he is seated inside of him. Then he takes to kissing Gwayne again, which he finds he quite likes. Gwayne kisses back and hopes it comes across as a dutiful spouse reciprocating his husband’s affections, and not whorish. They settle like that for a moment, lost in each other.
Slowly, Lord Hightower starts to move his hips. At first he’s barely moving more than an inch back and forth and then his rocks before more powerful, finding some deep point inside Gwayne that makes him want to cry out and beg for more. Instead he chews his lips, desperate to keep his pleasure to himself. He knows it is shameful.
Lord Hightower pulls fully out of him for a moment. They breathe. Then he seats himself back inside Gwayne.
“Seven hells,” Lord Hightower mutters. Gwayne tries desperately to keep himself still as the alpha’s pace increases. It is a pleasure unlike which he has ever known. It grows inside him, like a wave, washing over his body in soft rocks and building higher and higher.
He wonders for a moment if others might perceive them. Certainly the guards outside their door must hear them. The thought fills him with shame. He wishes to please his lord husband in all things, but his behavior to Gwayne’s father’s name.
Gwayne wants to speak. He wants to tell his lord husband that it is too much. That what is happening is improper and he is hurdling towards some unknown peak that is not meant for him. None of these words come out of his mouth.
“I - I -” he gasps. “My lord.”
“My sweet, sweet, omega,” Lord Hightower says, burying his cock into Gwayne one final time and bringing their mouths to meet. Gwayne cries out into his lips, his body riding high across the waves, tumbling down the crest of the next and rising back up the next. He thinks he feels his eyes roll back into his head for a moment. He keeps his eyes closed to be sure.
When he opens them, Lord Hightower is pulling out of him. While Gwayne was caught in his rapture, it seems his lord husband found his release. The alpha’s seed drips slowly from Gwayne until he presses his knees back into the omega’s chest, practically bending him in half.
“You will carry my heir soon, omega,” Lord Hightower speaks. It is not a question.
“Of course, my lord,” Gwayne assures, terrified and confused in the same breathe. He never experienced such overwhelming emotion before. He prays he disguised it well enough that his lord husband will not cast him away in displeasure and disgust.
Lord Hightower watches him. “Best you rest like this for a while,” he pushes against Gwayne’s knees again.
Gwayne nods desperately, still confused and folded. Lord Hightower rises from the bed.
“I have high expectations of you, omega. You will meet them.” He speaks once more before departing their marriage bed, leaving Gwayne still humiliatingly positioned and endlessly confused.