Game Of Thrones: Khal Pollo (GOT)

The scent of victory was a mix of cheap champagne, horse sweat, and wet grass. For Thomas Vance, it was the best perfume in the world. The echoes of cheers from the racetrack still rang in his ears, a symphony validating every morning he spent in the saddle.

"You actually did it, Tommy."

The husky, sweet voice broke his reverie. Amelia, his boss's daughter, leaned against the thick oak stable door. Her straw-blonde hair was dishevelled, and her blue eyes sparkled with alcohol and adrenaline. Her thin summer dress clung to her curves.

"We did it," Thomas corrected, his smile wide. He moved closer, feeling the girl's body heat. Her lily-scented perfume mixed with the smell of straw, a heady aroma.

"I hear the prize was huge."

"Not as huge as I want right now," Thomas replied, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Their gazes locked. Without another word, he pulled her inside. The heavy wooden door creaked shut softly. Just the two of them, the restless jet-black stallion Midnight Fury snorting in the corner, and golden dust dancing in a shaft of moonlight.

Their kiss was rough, filled with the taste of champagne. His hands kneaded Amelia's back, feeling her taut muscles beneath the thin fabric. Amelia's hands clutched his collar, pulling him closer.

"Here?" Amelia whispered, her breath warm on his ear.

"He's part of this victory."

They tumbled onto a soft, slightly scratchy pile of hay. Clothes tore, roughly cast aside. Skin met skin. Heat.

His lips devoured Amelia's neck, leaving wet trails. She arched her back, the first sigh escaping her lips. Her hands raked through Thomas's hair, while the other fumbled downwards, finding the hard bulge in his trousers.

The hay pricked Thomas's back as Amelia flipped their positions. She was now on top, her hair falling like a golden curtain on either side of her face. She guided Thomas's hardened, pulsing masculinity into her.

"Ahhh..." A long, deep sigh escaped Amelia's lips as she fully impaled herself. Hot, wet, and tight. She began to move, slow at first, then faster. Her hips rotated, grinding.

"Damn... Keep going..." Thomas groaned, his hands clutching Amelia's hips, guiding the rhythm.

The sound of their wet, sticky bodies colliding filled the stable. THUD. THUD. THUD. Rhythmic, hard, and relentless. Sweat drenched their bodies, glistening in the moonlight. The sharp, musky scent of passion permeated the air.

"Oh... God... Tommy..." Amelia gasped, her head falling back, eyes closed. The groans turned into small squeals as the first wave of pleasure hit her. Her body convulsed, the muscles inside clenching and milking Thomas's manhood deliciously.

Seeing her lose control triggered something wild in Thomas. He flipped them over again with one powerful motion, now he was controlling the tempo. His thrusts were deep, strong, and punishing. Each thrust was met with a husky groan from Amelia.

"More... Ah... Harder..." she pleaded, her legs wrapped tightly around Thomas's waist, pulling him even deeper.

Thomas obeyed. He could feel himself nearing the peak. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The world narrowed to pure sensation. Heat. Friction. The uncontrolled sounds of gasps and moans. As the explosive climax arrived, just as he was ready to release everything inside Amelia's womb, a deafening sound ripped through the night.

VRROOOM!

The sudden roar of a motorcycle exhaust on the gravel road. Midnight Fury, who had been restless, jumped in surprise. The horse reacted out of pure instinct.

CRACK!

A devastating rear kick. Steel hooves slammed through the air. Thomas, at the peak of his orgasm, had no time to react.

A blinding white flash. The horrific sound of bones cracking, so close it felt like it came from inside his own skull.

Then, silence. Darkness.

When consciousness returned, Thomas floated in an endless void.

"Well, that's what I call going out with a bang," a voice commented with amusement.

In front of him, a figure materialized. An oversized cartoon blue cat, with a wide grin and golden eyes swirling like galaxies.

"Who are you?"

"Just call me Tom," the cat said, doing a somersault. "God of Chaos, and your loyal audience. I must admit, the way you died... Top ten. Pure comedy!"

"So... I'm dead?"

"Dead as a doornail," Tom confirmed. "But, because you gave me such excellent entertainment, I'll give you a second chance. A new life in a world of swords and dragons. I'll make you a Khal. Leader of ten thousand warriors. And I'll grant you two wishes."

Thomas's mind raced. Power. "I want Superman's strength."

Tom materialized an electric fly swatter.

ZZZAAP!

He hit Thomas's head. "You don't deserve it," Tom said flatly. "Ask for something else."

Thomas thought smarter. "Alright. I want all the physical and mental enhancements of the Super Soldier Serum."

Tom's eyes swirled. "Hmm, that's more reasonable. Still prone to failure. Much more entertaining. Alright. First wish granted."

"And for the second wish," Thomas said, "I want every significant conquest of mine, especially over influential women, to grant me a fitting reward."

Tom's grin returned, wider. "Excellent! A chaotic idea! Second wish granted, my way. Consider this the 'Reward System'."

The cat moved closer. "Every time you have initial intimate relations with a canon woman, you will receive an Item or Artifact. Of course," Tom added slyly, "the rewards from the most important women will be the most special."

Before Thomas could ask, Tom snapped his fingers. The void spun.

"Have fun, Khal Pollo!" Tom's laughter echoed as Thomas's world faded to black, ready to be reborn.