When Sansa leans down and their foreheads touch, Daenerys feels as if it’s the most exhilarating thing that could ever happen to her. Adrenaline courses through her veins and she can feel the crimson tint in her cheeks getting more and more intense as she continues to gaze into Sansa’s ocean eyes.
And there it is again; the thrill that comes with Sansa Stark.
When Sansa opens her mouth, Dany loses the eye contact and longingly stares at Sansa’s plump lips, daring to just take her breath away and kiss her already. Just like how she’d imagined it time and time again listening to the playlist she’s made specifically for when she thinks of Sansa.
Dany wants her so, so, bad. There are a million thoughts forcing themselves into daenerys’ conscience for every second they spend in such close proximity.
Dany can feel Sansa's breaths on her nose and lets the sensation of Sansa’s shaky exhales consume her. She wants nothing more than to lean up at Sansa and place her lips on her own until all their problems are forgotten and it’s just the two of them, laying together, loving each other like there was no tomorrow.
There’s a silence that consumes them both that feels nearly unbearable. Dany doesn’t think she’s ever felt such a burning desire to kiss anyone before.
“I’m in love with you, Daenerys,” Sansa exhales at last, and Dany — without a moment’s hesitation — places her arms around Sansa’s neck and kisses her senseless.
Sansa reciprocates almost incandescently, and Daenerys feels so, so light — as if she was a bird, free at last. Dany doesn’t think she wants to spend a single conscious second without her lips on Sansa’s, doesn’t think she needs anything but her and her pretty, supple lips to keep her alive.
To her disappointment, Sansa pulls back, attempting to catch her breath as Daenerys resists giving in to her temptation to push up against Sansa again, who’s abutting the red walls of her room.
When Dany sees Sansa smile, teeth and all, she grounds herself and remembers what Sansa’s said before she had gotten the passionate, post-love-confession kiss of her dreams. It only, truly, sets in after a moment.
Sansa fucking Stark is in love with Daenerys Targaryen.
Deep in Dany’s mind, she feels as if this won’t last. She‘s been telling herself, every single day, that Sansa is but a silly high school crush, just like everyone else she’s taken a liking towards
Maybe, she thinks, that her infatuation with the other has always been a little... deeper than what she could call yet another irrational crush. The thought makes her want to scream, so she shrugs it off, doesn’t allow it to unsettle her so long as her lips are still tingling from Sansa’s delicate ones and everything feels perfect and in place.
Dany doesn’t settle for words (she never does) and instead mutters all that she could muster up for Sansa. There is a dopey smile that graces her face when she meets Sansa’s eyes again, albeit nearly bruised lips and disheveled hair.
There is a spell that’s been put on me, she thinks.
“And I,” she sighs, gives Sansa a feathery peck on the lips (she can already barely get enough of Sansa and the way her lips taste) “you.” she completes.
And when Sansa places her hands on Dany’s hips to pull her closer, as their bodies fall onto the bed in perfect, perfect unison, Dany’s well aware that she’s completely gone for this girl.