Margaery hung on his every word. When his hands moved up to her breasts, she did indeed sigh and her breath caught in her chest as tingling sparks rushed through her body. He spoke of her with such reverence and love. Even in her imperfect state, even with how she had treated him after he'd rescued her, he still spoke of her with such worship. When he nibbled at her neck, Margaery tilted her head back to offer it up to him.

When he finished speaking she took a moment and just breathed in his scent. The Boltons always had a dark, deathly scent about them. Hannibal was no different, though unlike Ramsay his scent was pleasant, musky. Margaery's fingers ran down his chest, along his strong arms and down to his hips. She paused there, curious if she should, or could, continue. After a moment she did continue lower, squeezing his thighs as she realized he was right.

Her desire for him did indeed grow. And even though Euron lurked in the back of her mind, the memory was fading. Margaery opened her eyes and pressed her forehead against his.

"Hannibal-" she kissed him deep as her body pressed tighter against his. She wanted him. "Be gentle..." she whispered.