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Apparently southerners had very few qualms about nudity. Margaery, in particular, seemed fond of stripping down and wandering around their tent at night, especially when Robb was fretting over something particularly stressful.
"What are you working on?" Margaery asked, leaning over his shoulder to peer at his paperwork. Her bare breasts pushed against his back, and Robb had to blink a few times to keep his eyes from glazing over.
"I don't even remember."
"That's no way to work, my king," she said, a smile in her voice. She leaned further, her hair falling over his shoulder. "You shouldn't move the troops there. They're vastly outnumbered by Lannisters."
Robb tried valiantly to ignore the feel of her pressed against him. "Those men are trained to sneak past enemy lines. The purpose is to weave through, not plough through."
"And if they're caught, they'll be cut through."
"I need them to reach Dorne. Even the Greatjon thinks subtlety is key."
Margaery hummed, and to Robb's mingled horror and delight he could feel the vibrations of it through her chest into his back. "Far be it from me to question the Greatjon's sense of discretion."
"Your insincerity wounds me," he said, and Margaery giggled and wrapped her arms around him. Then she kissed behind his ear.
"If you send them further west, they should be able to slip past more easily," she said. "My brother Garlan will be able to meet up with them and strengthen their forces, and guide them down to Dorne."
Robb swallowed the lump in his throat. "Will you send a raven to your brother? To ensure that?"
"Gladly. But later. Right now I need your help with something."
"Help?"
"Hm." She nipped at his ear this time, and Robb laughed.
"I'm trying to work, Margaery--"
"You'll be working. Working with me. That's much more pleasant than this." Her hands tugged at his robe.
"How am I supposed to do anything important? Especially with you..." Her hand slid down his chest, and Robb's breath hitched. "With you like this?"
"Am I not important, Robb Stark?" she asked.
He turned, and Margaery was smiling at him and her dark eyes were glittering like she was plotting something, and oh gods she was naked. She was so naked and he didn't really know how to react.
"You always look at me strangely, Robb," she finally giggled after he had spent a few moments gawking at her. "Am I not pretty?"
"Not pretty?" he asked. "Margaery, are you mad?"
She reached out, ran her fingers over the dark red stubble along his jaw. Her smile faded slightly, and then she pulled him up out of his chair to kiss her.
Robb's hands danced over her skin before he reached to grip her by the thighs, lifting her into his arms. She giggled again, hooking her ankles behind his back and letting him carry her over to their bed. He laid her down on top of the furs, then pulled away, yanking at the fabric holding his robe on. Margaery spread her arms up over her head, watching and smiling as Robb stripped down.
"You're beautiful," she told him.
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Is there anyone else here?"
Robb laughed, climbing onto the bed to press kisses to her lips. "I should hope not."
Margaery laughed outright, her breath rushing against his cheek. "So yes, I suppose it must be you who's beautiful, as I can't possibly be speaking to anyone else."
He hid his face at the crook of her neck. She reached up, ran her fingers through his hair and scratched possessively at his scalp.
"You needn't be so shy, my sweet," she told him. "Are you not used to girls complimenting you?"
"Not..." He laughed, shaking his head. "Not really."
"A pity." She twisted suddenly under him, rolling him onto his back and sitting astride him, her hands resting on his stomach. "When you take the Iron Throne, there'll be many women trying to tell you how pretty you are." She smiled, leaning down to kiss him, a chaste brush of her lips against his. "But you'll only be allowed to listen to me, because you're my husband, not theirs."
He smiled. "Of course, dearest."
Margaery gave him a firmer kiss then, as if approving of his response, then she reached down to gently stroke his cock. Robb bit back a growl, bucking up helplessly. Margaery tightened her hand around him.
"Hush, hush. I need a moment, or this won't be any fun at all."
Robb watched, unable to breath as Margaery's hand snuck between her legs. She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering as she rubbed at herself.
"You don't have to do that all by yourself, you know," he said. He hesitantly reached his hand out, brushing his thumb over the spot he knew she favored. "I can help."
Margaery twitched at his touch, pushing down against his hand with a delicate whine. "I... I thought boys didn't..."
"Didn't like making girls happy?" he asked, and she laughed.
"Didn't know how," she admitted. Well, that pricked his pride a little.
"Tell me how you like it, then," he said, and Margaery's face flushed and she took his hand in hers.
The sounds she made when he touched her nearly drove him insane, the surprised little gasps and moans and the way she twisted her hips over him like she couldn't believe he was doing any of this. Robb twisted his hand to slide his fingertips over her slit, pleased with how wet she was after only a few minutes of him touching her.
"Stop, wait," Margaery gasped, pulling her weight off of him. Robb reached for her blindly, and she caught his hands, raising them to kiss his fingertips. She was sweaty and panting, like she had run from Winterfell to the Wall. "Gods, I love you, I love you."
And then she reached down and guided his cock into her, and Robb threw his head back and very nearly howled.
She was so tight and wet and perfect, and Robb had to work very hard to keep still as Margaery slowly, carefully rose up, then lowered herself back down.
"Please," he rasped, reaching out to grip her strong, pale thighs. "Please, Margaery."
She let him roll them over, and Robb rained kisses and nips all along her throat and breasts, thrusting into her and making her toes curl. All the previous buildup paid off quickly -- Margaery was shuddering and cursing within a few minutes, sinking her teeth into his shoulder so hard Robb knew he'd have a nasty bruise there in the morning. And that -- the mingled pain and pleasure and Margaery's voice in his ear -- was enough to make Robb come.
He rested his sweaty head on her chest, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air as his arms trembled in an effort to keep him from collapsing on top of her. She laughed and gave him a gentle nudge, rolling him over onto his back and then curling up against his side. He stroked her hair, all thick and dark and tangled. He'd help her brush it out in the morning. She loved it when he did that.
"I smoothed just about all the crinkles out of your brow," Margaery teased, running one finger over his forehead. "Now go to sleep, my king -- you need your rest for the morning."
Robb shut his eyes, because it was like she was always telling him, really -- a good king heeds his queen's advice.