Sansa couldn’t take a single minute more of the torture.
“I’m not staying here!” she shrieked at Arya and got up from her sleeping bag.
“Where are you going to go?” Arya asked and continued to aim her water pistol at Sansa. Another cold squirt of water hit her face.
“Anywhere but here!” Sansa declared, walking towards the zipper that would free her from her torment. She paused when she reached it. Shouldn’t she take some of her things with her? She was barely wearing anything...
She turned around, intending to pick up a sweater, but was immediately attacked by the rest of the water in Arya’s childish toy pistol. For something that didn’t look very big, it contained a deceptive amount of water.
Sansa screamed in frustration and fled the tent.
Why did her family hate her so much that they would stick her in a tent with Arya?
“It’s inappropriate for you to stay with Robb, Theon and Jon,” her mother had insisted, “and with Bran and Rickon in our tent, there’s just no more room.”
Next time they went camping Sansa was going to demand her own private tent. Robert’s brother Stannis was allowed to do that. Why couldn’t she?
Sansa walked around the campsite, freezing cold already since she was both lightly clad in a pretty nightgown (camping was no reason not to have standards) and soaked because of Arya’s stupid water gun.
She’d need to go back soon if she didn’t want to catch pneumonia, but Sansa was feeling very stubborn. If she never saw Arya again it would be too soon. She looked around at the tents in the area, trying to remember who was staying where.
She recognised her parents’ tent, Robb’s tent and her own tent immediately, but she wasn’t quite sure which tent was Renly’s and which was Robert’s. They looked pretty much exactly the same. Renly had brought Loras Tyrell with him this year and they were sharing a tent. Robert only had Myrcella and Tommen with him. After the divorce he never brought Joffrey anymore. Sansa was privately very relieved. She had always had a bit of a crush on Joffrey growing up, but he’d been awful to her once he found out. She didn’t want to think about it.
It was obvious which tent belonged to Stannis Baratheon.
All the other tents had been put up hastily, some a little crooked, most covered in grass and looking a little haphazard after a day of people running in and out of them. Stannis had somehow managed to put his tent up exactly they way it looked in the instructions. Everything was perfectly straight, and there was not a speck of dirt or a crooked line in sight.
His light was on.
Sansa swallowed nervously. Stannis was a very quiet, stern sort of man. She didn’t know whether she dared bother him. It was just that she knew what would happen if she went to her parents. They’d send her straight back to Arya. Robb would probably let her crash, but Robb and Theon could be just as bad as Arya sometimes, and she found herself not wanting her brother and his friend to know that she had let Arya drive her out of her own tent. They’d tease her. She just knew they’d tease her. Well, Jon might not actively tease her, but he wouldn’t stop Robb and Theon from doing it.
There was absolutely no way she was bothering Renly and Loras, and although Myrcella and Tommen were sweet kids, she didn’t really fancy dealing with Robert. He’d probably tell her father, anyway.
The cold she was feeling convinced her that there was nothing that Stannis could do that would be worse than standing outside and freezing to death. She was shivering violently and her teeth were starting to chatter.
She also had a vague feeling that Stannis might actually understand about horrible siblings. She’d seen the look on his face whenever Robert talked to him. It was hard to tell because he was generally always scowling, but she thought he scowled extra much whenever Robert was giving him a hard time.
She took a deep breath and marched up to the entrance of Stannis’ perfect tent. She didn’t want to call out to him and risk alerting anyone to the fact that she was out of her own tent, so she simply undid the zipper and let herself in.
He swallowed uncomfortably. Above the neck it was.
Her face was wet too, but her hair looked mostly dry. She was looking at him as if she was terrified that he was about to tell her off, and worrying at her lower lip.
What on earth had happened to her, and why was she in his tent?
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” she began, “it’s just that my sister is awful and she’s been shooting at me with this stupid water pistol, and I just couldn’t take it anymore so I left!”
Stannis nodded. It all made sense. Except for the small detail of why she had chosen to flee into his tent. Was there a sign on it that proclaimed, ‘bother me, please!’ perhaps?
Sansa was shivering and looking rather lost and miserable. His eyes kept straying from her face. He really needed to cover her up. For her sake. To keep her warm. No other reason.
“I’d offer you a seat, but I’m afraid this air mattress is the only furniture available.” He reached into his bag and found a sweater. He had intended to throw it to her and send her on her way, but she had apparently misunderstood his excuse as permission to sit down on his bed -- if the air mattress he had covered with a sheet and a duvet could be called a bed. It certainly felt like a bed as he was lying in it in his sleepwear.
He handed her the sweater, feeling very awkward. Should he ask her to leave? She was looking at him very gratefully. He didn’t really want her to stop.
Instead of putting the sweater on directly she was holding it in her lap. That was not entirely helpful.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly, looking at him with her very big, very blue, very gorgeous eyes.
Gods, he needed to get a grip. She was Ned’s daughter.
“Do you think I could stay here tonight?” she asked, blushing slightly.
No. No no no. That would not be a good idea. At all.
“I don’t think your parents would appro-”
“My parents won’t know. I’ll go back to my tent really early. Before anyone wakes up. Please, I just want to sleep one night without Arya trying to pull pranks on me while I’m sleeping. I don’t want anyone to know that I couldn’t cope with her. Please, please?”
Stannis was all set to put his foot down and send her to her parents, but there was a desperate, vulnerable note in her voice. She was pleading. Begging.
He knew exactly what it was like to be tortured by a sibling. He hadn’t been able to run anywhere, but he expected he would have tried, just as Sansa was trying. It might have been nice if someone had given him a chance to escape Robert every now and then.
He was not some sort of savage, unable to control himself around an attractive girl. He could let her stay for a few hours, surely? It shouldn’t be beyond him to offer her a warm place to stay…
“I’ll be quiet, I swear!” she promised, the full force of her pleading stare on him.
She still hadn’t covered herself with the sweater he had given her. He wished she would. It was getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes off her chest. Honestly, she might as well have shown up topless.
“Fine,” he bit out, trying to sound as he usually would. He should be annoyed. He should be frustrated by the interruption, by the invasion of his privacy. Instead he was feeling like there was suddenly not enough oxygen in the tent.
“Thank you!” she squealed, looking far too pleased. No one had ever looked that pleased at the idea of sharing a tent with him. Not even his ex-wife. Not even his daughter. His daughter was still young, however. Rather bookish and not really outdoorsy, either. Otherwise she might have joined him on this torturous camping trip. He found himself feeling oddly happy that he was by himself this time around.
“You should put the sweater on. You must be cold.” Stannis knew she was cold. He could see.
“Oh!” Sansa looked at the sweater on her lap as if she had only just spotted it. She proceeded to turn her back on him and started to peel her wet dress off. Stannis froze up. Should he stop her? Close his eyes? He understood why she would want to get rid of the wet article of clothing before putting on something dry and warm, but he still hadn’t been expecting it. Perhaps he should have, but it had just seemed completely unlikely that she would want to strip in front of him.
Unable to move a muscle he stared, transfixed, as her back was revealed to him. It was smooth, flawless and milk-white. When his eyes caught sight of the white lace detail on her blue underwear he remembered himself and closed his eyes tightly. He was going to hell. He was going to hell.
“This sweater is really nice, thank you.”
Stannis opened one eye. Sansa was thankfully covered now. He let out the breath he had been holding and opened his other eye.
“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly, unsure about how to proceed. Sansa would wish to sleep, wouldn’t she? There was room on the air mattress he was on, but he only had the one duvet, and she hadn’t brought a sleeping bag with her. Not that he blamed her, sleeping bags were horrible creations.
He did have a spare pillow, however. He liked to pile pillows behind his head while he read. Deciding that he should try to be hospitable, he reached to hand her one of his pillows.
Sansa accepted it with a sweet little smile and hugged it to her.
“What are you reading?” she asked curiously. Clearly she was not ready to go to sleep quite yet.
“History book. It’s about the War of the Five Kings.”
“Oh, I love those stories! It’s such a shame what happened to the King in the North, don’t you think?”
“He should never have declared himself King. He should have supported the rightful King.”
“You’re named after him, aren’t you?”
Sansa was quiet for a moment as she considered this. “Do you think it would have changed the outcome?”
“It might have changed everything,” Stannis sighed, “or it might have changed nothing at all.” There was no way to know. It was in the past.
“King Stannis was always my favourite, you know,” Sansa admitted, giving him a shy look.
Stannis raised his eyebrows. That was fairly odd. He wouldn’t have expected it of Sansa. She seemed the type to have rooted for King Robb. Hadn’t she just told him that she thought his fate had been sad?
“I really like the story of King Robb and how his tragic love for Jeyne Westerling led to his downfall, but there’s just something very impressive about how King Stannis was the only one who went to the Wall when the Night's Watch needed help.”
Stannis nodded approvingly. He had always thought the same thing. A true king should concern himself with the safety of his realm.
Sansa yawned, holding her hand over her mouth politely. Should he offer her the space next to him?
“I think I’ll try to get some sleep. If I’m going to sneak out of here early I shouldn’t really stay up,” Sansa said, yawning again.
“Of course,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and shifted to the side a little, making more room for her. His face felt oddly hot.
Sansa did not seem to notice his discomfort and simply placed the pillow next to his and made herself comfortable, tugging the duvet over herself without even asking for permission. One of her legs touched his under the covers, and even through his flannel pyjama bottoms he could feel how cold she was.
“Mm, it’s so warm,” she moaned happily.
To his abject horror he felt certain parts of his anatomy twitch in response to her voice and her presence under the covers with him. He started running through prime numbers in his head and clutched his book tightly.
She remained still and silent and his heart rate slowed after a while. This was all right. He could handle this. It had just been a tiny slip-up. He was human, after all. His brain might understand that Sansa was Off Limits and Much Too Young, but he was flesh and blood, and biology was hard to argue with. It was all under control now. He would just read, and Sansa would sleep, and he would maybe sleep a little too.
Stannis finished two chapters before his eyelids started to droop. Sansa had dropped off before he had been halfway through the first chapter. He had been able to tell by how her breathing had deepened and evened out. It was a shame that she didn’t snore or something. Anything to make her seem a little less attractive might help.
He reached to turn off the reading light and made himself as comfortable as he dared with Sansa next to him. His movements caused Sansa to shift in her sleep, pressing herself close to his side. Her breathing was still, deep, and even, so he knew she was still asleep. Should he push her off? Would that wake her? His heart started racing again as he panicked over what he should do.
“Mmm…” Sansa mumbled, pressing herself even closer. She was very warm and soft. There was also a very distinctive and attractive citrusy scent coming off her, filling his nose and triggering memories of feeling safe and at peace. He was seized by the wild urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close.
No. No no no. Hell. He was going to hell. He didn’t really believe in hell, but he was still definitely going.
How old was she? He closed his eyes and did some mental arithmetic. He knew Catelyn had given birth the same year his parents died, but he couldn’t remember whether it was Robb or Sansa.
It had to have been Sansa, he decided. Robb had already graduated, so it couldn’t have been him. That meant that she was either seventeen or eighteen. Still a child at worst, barely legal at best. It didn’t matter. She was Off Limits. He shouldn’t even be thinking about her as a beautiful girl he’d very much like to hold. She was Ned’s daughter. He remembered what she looked like when she was in diapers.
How had he become such a dirty old man?
Sansa was completely oblivious to his internal strife, and she threw her leg across him. Her thigh was just inches from certain places now. He had to do something. Push her gently away. Make her roll to her other side and face away from him.
Any second now he would do just that.
She buried her face in his neck. Her breath felt almost scalding hot against his skin and her hair tickled him.
Prime numbers. Prime numbers. The Red Wedding. Gory, horrible death and betrayal. Beheadings. War and blood and mayhem.
Nothing was working. He was getting hard and her thigh was moving. He wanted to push her away like he had planned, but he was frozen in place, rendered paralyzed by the scent of her hair and her skin.
It had been so long since he had shared a bed with a woman. He had forgotten how soft a woman’s skin could be.
Her thigh came into contact with his erection. He made an embarrassing sound. It was very good that she was asleep and could not hear him or feel his completely inappropriate reaction to her.
This could not go on. He had to move her away.
Slowly he moved his hand to her thigh, intending to push it off gently. As soon as his hand came into contact with her soft, bare thigh he understood that he had made a terrible mistake. How was he supposed to let go? How was he supposed to push her away when what he wanted to do was pull her closer?
He gritted his teeth and started to push her thigh off him. He was better than his base instincts. He could do this.
Sansa made an annoyed sound in her sleep. He froze, frightened that she would wake. The heat of her skin underneath his hand felt scorching, and he had the wild thought that he might burn his hand.
She didn’t wake.
He started to breathe again and resumed his slow, gentle pushing. Her thigh was no longer touching any sensitive… things, but he thought he should still continue to nudge her thigh until it was no longer on top of his.
A tense few moments passed by as he pushed her thigh off. He managed it eventually and was just about to take his hand away (really!) when he heard Sansa speak. His heart skipped several beats due to the shock.
“That feels nice.”
When had she woken up? Just now? Or did she know that he had just been moving her off him? If she didn’t know that, then it probably just seemed like he was feeling her up. His heart started to pound uncomfortably hard. What should he say? What should he say?
He pulled his hand away quickly and guiltily.
“I was just moving your leg,” he explained. Did he dare look at her? She didn’t sound upset, but maybe she looked upset.
“Oh, I should have warned you. I’m a notorious cuddler.” There was a playful tone in her sleepy voice. He risked a glance at her face. It was no longer buried in his neck; she had moved her head back to her borrowed pillow.
She looked mostly sleepy, but there was a shy smile playing on her lips.
He cleared his throat, unable to come up with anything to say.
“You should definitely just shove me off if I’m making you uncomfortable. Usually it doesn’t wake me up.” She was still smiling. He swallowed and wondered if she was expecting a reply.
“You’re much gentler than Margaery or Jeyne when they push me off. Maybe that’s what woke me,” she speculated idly.
His face was starting to feel hot again. He was trying not to imagine Sansa wrapped around another girl in bed and failing rather spectacularly. Dirty, dirty old man.
“It felt nice,” she repeated. There was a consoling note in her voice, and he got the idea that she was trying to make him feel better. As if she were trying to ease his embarrassment away.
“You should go back to sleep,” he finally managed to say. He sounded much more abrupt and annoyed than he had meant to sound.
“You’re right. Good night.” Sansa rolled over to face away from him, and within a few minutes she was breathing slowly and deeply again.
He lay awake for a while longer, hyper-aware of the girl so near, but when she didn’t start to ‘cuddle’ again, he relaxed and eventually drifted off himself.
Her memories of fleeing Arya and her water pistol and seeking refuge with Stannis returned to her all at once. She was in bed with Stannis Baratheon. She could feel his…
She needed to get back to her own tent. Preferably without waking Stannis and embarrassing him completely. She knew men had these physical reactions -- especially in the morning. She had heard Robb and Theon talking about it. It probably had nothing to do with her, but she was certain he’d feel awful about it if he realised she could feel it.
It felt rather nice, actually. Her blush deepened. She’d had boyfriends before, but she had never really progressed to sleeping in a bed with them. This was the first time she had ever woken up with a man holding her so intimately. She didn’t really want to go.
Still, this was Stannis. He would not appreciate her using him as stand-in so she could experience what it was like to have a real boyfriend. Or would he? He had definitely been sneaking looks at her last night, when she was still in her wet nightie. She bit her lip to keep from giggling. She was also pretty sure he had been touching her when she woke up at one point. Yes, she definitely had a vague memory of waking up with his hand on her thigh. His touch had been very gentle and almost sweet. Nothing like the shoves she usually got when she slept over with Margaery or Jeyne.
She shook her head a little. She didn’t have time for this. If she didn’t make it back to the tent she was sharing with Arya before people started waking up there would probably be trouble.
Sansa started to carefully wriggle out of Stannis’ grasp. Unfortunately, he did not seem keen to let her go. His arm only tightened around her middle when she tried to get free, and her wiggling just made him grind himself against her in a way that made her gasp. She felt a rush of heat and excitement at the sensation, a faint, tingling throb starting between her legs. Sansa wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. She did not have time to be turned on right now.
Stannis was asleep. She had no such excuse.
She made a more determined attempt to free herself. A little too determined.
“What…?” Stannis sounded sleepy and confused to find himself with his arms full of a wriggling Sansa.
Sansa stopped moving. “Go back to sleep, I’m just going back to my tent. Remember? Like I said?” She tried to speak soothingly, so that he would be lulled back to sleep. No such luck.
He sprang away from her and into a seated position. “Gods, Sansa!” He sounded mortified.
“It’s okay, I’m just leaving,” she repeated, sitting up too. Maybe if she pretended that she hadn’t noticed his hard-on he wouldn’t make it into a thing?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off, sounding panicked and apologetic.
“It’s nothing! Really, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind,” she babbled, trying to put his mind at ease.
“You don’t?” he was obviously bewildered.
“No, it was nice. No one has ever held me like that before.” Why was she telling him that? She felt herself blush furiously.
“It’s inappropriate,” he snapped, “you’re too young.”
“I’m eighteen!” she bristled, she was so tired of people telling her she was too young for one thing or another.
Sansa could have sworn that Stannis looked relieved for a second, but the tension was back in his shoulders before she was sure, and he was clenching his jaw shut the way he always did.
“Well?” he said through clenched teeth after a little while. “Weren’t you leaving?”
Without really considering it, Sansa angrily tore off the sweater she had borrowed. She was only wearing panties, so she was basically flashing him. She didn’t care. She was angry at him for pretending that she was some kind of child. She pretended not to notice how his eyes had widened and how his chest had stopped moving and searched for her discarded nightdress. She found it and put it on quickly, feeling suddenly rather ridiculous about what she had done.
She hurried towards the zipper that would allow her to escape the tent.
Sansa looked back at Stannis. He was looking incredibly strange. There were two spots of red high on his cheeks, and his eyes - already a very dark blue colour - looked even darker than they usually did.
She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. He did not seem to know what he wanted to say. He ran a hand through his hair and opened and shut his mouth a few times.
“Why did you do that?” he finally asked.
It was her turn to be embarrassed and speechless. She had no idea. Well, she had wanted to show him that she was very grown up, thank you very much. Maybe she had wanted to embarrass him. Shock him. She didn’t know.
She sat down next to him again while she thought about how she might answer.
“I’m not a little kid,” she said at length.
“Apparently,” he quipped dryly.
She blushed. Had she really just flashed him her breasts? What the hell was wrong with her?
Well. In for a copper star, in for a gold dragon.
She kissed him. Just a quick peck on the lips, but it made him go stock-still. It was as if he had been turned to stone.
Hardly daring to, but unable to contain her curiosity, she looked at his eyes. She had never seen Stannis look so shocked and unbalanced. It made her want to giggle. A small, nervous and amused sound escaped her lips before she could help herself.
His eyes narrowed into a glare, and she noticed the muscles in his neck and his jaw working furiously.
Before she understood what was going on he was bringing his hands to the back of her head and her neck, pulling her in for another kiss. A real, proper, brain-melting kiss. It did not even occur to her to try to prevent his tongue from exploring her mouth. She just opened to him without question, moaning at the sensation, clinging to his shoulders helplessly and feeling hot and tingly all over.
She had kissed boys before, but it had never been like this. This kiss was making her want to lie down and part her thighs for him. Urgently.
He broke the kiss, breathing fast and looking at her with completely black eyes.
“I should not have done that. I apologise,” he said hoarsely. His voice a few octaves lower than it normally was. She shuddered at the sound of it. She had never been as turned on in her entire life.
“Don’t be sorry,” she mumbled, blushing with embarrassment and arousal.
“You should go,” he said firmly, “now.”
Leaving was the last thing Sansa wanted to do, but she could Rickon’s loud voice a few tents over, and understood that she was running out of time. She got up and went for the zipper again.
“I’m coming back tonight,” she promised breathlessly and left.
By the time it was late and he was reading in his air-mattress bed again, he realised he should have tried to talk to Sansa during the day. Convince her not to come to his tent again. If she came back tonight it would only lead to trouble. Big trouble. Ned was going to kill him.
It was past midnight when she turned up. He’d been nodding off with a book on his chest and had almost convinced himself that she wasn’t going to show.
“Sansa!” He was immediately fully alert.
“Hi,” she said flirtatiously. She was wearing the same white nightdress again, though it was thankfully dry tonight.
“You shouldn’t be here. I meant to speak to you today and tell you not to co-”
“You want me here, and you know it.”
The girl had a point. He did want her with him. Desperately. The kiss she had allowed him before she had left his tent that morning had been sublime. He wanted another.
Seven hells. He was going to all of them.
Sansa was getting under the duvet with him and he was apparently too much of a dirty old man to ask her to stop. She took the book he had been reading and placed it on the floor of the tent. Then she pressed herself against him. Gods, it was perfect. She was perfect.
“Kiss me again,” she pleaded, lips close to his ear.
Her breathless tone and the heat of her body was making him hard, and he kissed her without thinking. No one had to know about this. He could kiss her just a little bit. It would be fine.
A little bit became a lot and before he knew it he had the girl half on top of him, kissing the way he had occasionally seen people kiss in secondary school. Long and hard, roaming from lips to neck and back again, tongues everywhere. Sansa was writhing against him pleasantly, and he was feeling shockingly aroused. Just the sounds she was making might have been enough to get him hard on their own -- moans and gasps and occasionally a breathless little version of his name.
Sansa rolled to her back and tugged at his T-shirt, obviously wanting his weight on her. He followed her on autopilot, but once he was on top of her, his erection pressed against her where she had invitingly parted her thighs, he realised what a phenomenally bad idea it had been. He reluctantly rolled off of her despite her gratifying little moans of protest.
“This is - I can’t do this,” he sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He needed to find his rational mind.
“Please? It’s so good,” she moaned.
Rational mind? What rational mind? Did he even have one of those? He couldn’t remember.
He was kissing her again, grinding against her, her legs wrapped around him and urging him closer. He felt a little like the time he had been on morphine due to a painful injury. Warm, weightless and surreal.
No! Hell! He was going to hell.
He couldn’t roll away this time because her legs were wrapped tightly around him. He settled for tearing his mouth away from her lips.
“You should go,” he growled. He wasn’t sure what would happen if she stayed.
“I don’t want to,” she said stubbornly, tightening her legs further and rubbing herself wantonly against his aching erection.
Now he knew what would happen if she stayed.
“If you don’t go I’m going to fuck you,” he groaned. It was true, his self control had left the tent. Possibly it had left the country.
Sansa was quiet. He looked at her to see whether he had managed to frighten her off. He both hoped he had and that he hadn’t.
She was flushed pink and her lips were swollen and parted. The skin around her mouth was a little red, probably from his stubble rubbing against it. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and arousal.
“Okay,” she said simply.
Stannis stared at her, dumbfounded. He had not expected her to give him permission to fuck her. He had fully intended her to push him off and run scared.
What had she said to him this morning? She had never been held like that by a man? She was probably a virgin then. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. This was completely insane.
It was hard to think with his hard cock pressed against her so intimately. Kissing him was pretty distracting, too. But she didn’t really need to think to know that she would die if she did not get her nightgown off soon.
“Please, Stannis. I want you to,” she begged, rocking against him and trying to hit the spot that would send jolts of pleasure through her. Why was she still wearing clothes? She whimpered pathetically and tried to tug at her nightie.
Looking as if he were in a trance, Stannis helped her get her dress off. As soon as her breasts were revealed he fell on them, his mouth and his clever fingers playing with her nipples and making her even more desperate for him. As long as it gave her relief, and filled that empty ache between her legs, she didn’t care what he did with her.
The feel of him grinding his erection against her and sucking and pulling at her nipples was enough to push her off the edge. She came with a soft mewling cry, a tidal wave of warmth spreading through her from her core. But she still felt empty.
“Please, I’m so ready, I need you, please!” she moaned, tightening her legs around him for emphasis.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a very deep and husky voice, sounding very serious.
If he could feel what she was feeling he wouldn’t ask such a stupid question.
“Yes, please Stannis, I want you, I want you!” she gasped out, clawing at his back ineffectually. He was still wearing his T-shirt.
“You’ll have to let me go for a second, then.”
Sansa loosened her grip, allowing him to move his hips away so he could strip. She hurriedly discarded her damp panties while he undressed, her heart beating wildly and irregularly. This was the most excited she had ever felt.
They were both naked now, and he was settling himself back between her thighs. She could feel blunt head of his cock nudging her entrance, and it flooded her with feelings of arousal.
She cried in protest when he pulled away instead of pushing forward.
“Are you on the pill?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
“Yes, since I was fifteen, don’t worry,” she told him. It had been horribly embarrassing, but her mother had insisted that she go on the pill as soon as she started dating even though she had never gone beyond making out with any of her boyfriends. She grabbed at his shoulders, trying to pull him back into position.
His hand was snaking down in between their bodies, his fingers suddenly there, stroking her and testing whether she was wet. She was very, very wet. He pushed a finger inside and she moaned with the pleasure of it. She had fingered herself before, although she usually didn’t bother with it. It was easier to get off by focusing on other areas. His fingers felt much better than hers ever had. Soon he was up to three, pumping in and out of her slowly. She was gasping and moaning in appreciation, urging him on. He seemed to be in no hurry, however.
Didn’t he know how much she needed him? She thought she had been pretty clear.
“Please, please, please,” she begged, hoping he would understand.
“What do you want?” he asked, sounding a little breathless.
She blushed. Surely he knew.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
There was a definitely note of amusement in his voice. He was teasing her. He was enjoying having her at his mercy like this. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“I need you to -” Sansa couldn’t get the words out. She couldn’t talk about cocks and fucking. It was not ladylike.
“Yes?” he pressed, still deliciously pumping his fingers in and out of her. She had not thought it was possible to be this aroused.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the right words just appeared in her mind.
“Please take me Stannis, I need you. I’m yours,” she moaned, hardly recognising her own voice.
Stannis growled and was positioning his cock at her entrance faster than she thought possible. She angled her hips towards him, trying to welcome him as best she could. She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Margaery said it was much easier if you relaxed.
Now it was time and he was shaking. Shaking with nerves, shaking with excitement. His muscles were tensing up in places where he wasn’t sure he was supposed to have muscles.
Sansa looked serene underneath him. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, slow breaths. He emulated her breathing and started to press forwards.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck she's tight. So wet and so hot. This vice-like grip was not what he had expected. This was impossible. It would take him an hour to get fully inside.
Still, he kept going.
Sansa was moaning and clinging to his shoulders. Every sound she made made him want to thrust forward. He couldn’t, though. He was relatively sure that even if he tried to thrust he wouldn’t get very far. He needed to continue sinking into her slowly. Agonisingly slowly.
Deep and slow breaths were not cutting it anymore. He started to pant and felt sweat springing up all over his body. The strain of doing this was way beyond what he had prepared himself for. He had started this, however, and he would finish. Baring his gritted teeth, he continued to sink deeper.
Time had no meaning while her heat seared his flesh. It was pleasure made into torture, and he was so very far from his rational mind that he couldn’t even remember what it was like to have intelligent thoughts.
Finally he was buried to the hilt. He stopped because he knew he had to wait for her to adjust to him now.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmm, yes, gods, Stannis...”
His cock twitched in response to her words and he felt her clench around him. He gasped at the sensation. How was it even possible for her to clench around him? She was so fucking tight already.
He didn’t trust himself to say anything else so he just started to pull out of her. He went slowly, but not quite as slowly as he had entered her. He didn’t pull out very far, not wanting to lose the ground he had gained, before he thrust back in. It was a very shallow thrust, and not very powerful at all, but it felt wonderful. He groaned and immediately started doing it again.
Sansa was moaning in appreciation, so he risked pulling out further after a few successful shallow thrusts. From further back he was able to manage a deeper, more satisfying thrust. A grunt escaped him, and he felt Sansa’s inner walls tighten around him again. She moaned a drawn out “yes...” and her hands clung to his shoulders in a tight desperate grip.
He thrust into her from an identical depth a few more times before risking more. And then more again. She was attempting to meet his thrusts with little welcoming movements of her hips, often clenching around him when he was fully sheathed as if she didn’t want him to pull out again. It felt as if her body was greedy for this invasion and it made him dizzy with pleasure.
His thrusts were still much slower than he wanted them to be, but he couldn’t fuck her any faster without hurting her. It would take a little longer for him to come this way, but she was so absurdly tight that it was almost making up the difference. Hearing her moan his name so prettily didn’t hurt either.
It had been so long that he had almost forgotten the sounds and the smells of sex, the erotic feel of soft, womanly flesh against his own rougher, harder body. It was intensely real while being surreal at the same time. The softness of her… gods, this is too much...
Much too soon he felt his sac tightening up, his release impending.
“Fuck, Sansa - I’m going to - fuck!”
“Yes! I want - I need, ah! Stannis, Stannis!”
He came with a force that left him feeling like he had just been run over by a train. He buried his face in the copper tresses that were fanned around her face, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her and trying to will his heart to slow down. He kept rocking against her for a little while until he heard her make a noise of complaint.
He pulled out of her and rolled to the side, not wanting to crush her. She immediately cuddled up to him, placing one of his thighs in between hers and pressing herself against him. She felt very wet and hot and rather sticky with his seed.
Stannis was relatively sure that he had now thoroughly earned his tour of all seven hells. It had been completely worth it.
He turned to look at her and saw that she was already looking at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
He huffed out an amused breath. Was he all right? He had just fucked Ned’s teenage daughter in a tent. He was probably insane. He felt great, though.
Stannis only told her the last bit.
“I feel great too. A little sore, but nothing to worry about.” Her voice was coming out as a rather delighted chirp. He felt a pang of guilt when she said she was sore, but he knew that it was nigh impossible to avoid soreness the first time, and she didn’t exactly sound as if she were in a lot of pain.
Slowly, but surely, his rational mind started to take over again. He was suddenly feeling a lot less great.
What the hell were you thinking?
Stannis felt himself going paler and paler as the ice cold reality of what he had just done washed over him. He had never in his life done anything as selfish and reckless. He always prided himself on his self control and his honour. If he had known how easily he would come undone at the hands of a pretty girl who moaned his name and flashed him her tits, he might not have been so proud of himself.
She had to leave. She had to leave, and they had to pretend that this never happened. No one could find out. Absolutely no one.
His panicked thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Sansa moving a little against his thigh, rubbing herself against him. He realised that she was most likely unsatisfied. Of course she was, women hardly ever had orgasms during penetrative sex under the best of circumstances, and this had been her first time. Idiot.
His idea to send her away with all due haste would not do.
She had seemed to like what he had done with his hand when he had been preparing her... He would simply have to finish the job with his fingers.
He gently pushed her until she was flat on her back and was pleased when she immediately parted her thighs when he reached for her with his hand. He focused on areas he knew would bring her pleasure, leaving her passage be for the most part. She had said that she was sore. Questing fingers would probably not be welcome inside of her. She was very responsive, moaning prettily for him almost as soon as he started massaging her gently but firmly. Perhaps she had been close, but he thought it took a very short time for her to start writhing against his hand, gasping and crying out for him.
Would Renly and Loras be able to hear? Had they already heard? He and Sansa hadn’t exactly been quiet during their… during. Hopefully his brother and his boyfriend were already asleep.
Sansa seemed to be coming down from her peak, so he gave her a few final lazy touches and removed his hand.
“I’m not leaving,” Sansa said before he had a chance to work up the courage to explain that she had to go.
How had she known what he was going to say?
“I want to do it again,” she explained. She sounded excited and determined.
“Which part?” his treacherous mouth replied before his brain had a chance to intervene.
“All of it.”
She wanted him to take her again? Hadn’t she said she was sore? He didn’t want to hurt her…
No. He was not even considering this. She had to go.
“This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done this,” his voice sounded harsh, regretful and a little upset. He was very upset, so it surprised him that he had not sounded more out of sorts.
Sansa rose up on one elbow to look at him angrily. Fury might be a better word; her eyes were flashing with electricity. It was a little frightening to behold. It reminded him of the few times he had seen Catelyn in a temper. He had always counted himself fortunate not to be on the receiving end of it whenever he had witnessed it. Now it seemed he would experience the full force of it from Sansa.
“If you call this a mistake again I will march naked out of this tent and get my father.”
Stannis swallowed nervously, feeling a little like he had just been punched in the gut. Obviously she was offended. He had absolutely no idea how to fix it. A vague memory of a conversation with his own father surfaced.
”Your mother is upset.”
”Because I am a clueless brute.”
”How will you fix it?”
”There’s only one sure way.”
”What is it?”
Stannis at least knew she was upset because he had called their sudden entanglement a mistake. He’d just have to apologise. Even though he was right; it had been a mistake. Of course it was a mistake. How could it be anything but a mistake? He ground his teeth together for a moment, but remembered himself. He needed to calm her down before she did anything crazy. He didn’t really think she would go fetch her father, but he couldn’t risk it.
“Forgive me, I chose my words poorly,” he said as meekly as he could.
Sansa’s eyes softened immediately.
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” She was biting her lower lip enticingly and looking very vulnerable now that her anger had drained away.
“It was…” he trailed off, unable to find suitable words. Sansa was staring at him, worried and expectant.
“... very enjoyable.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sansa looked half amused, half disappointed.
“Well. I thought it was amazing and I want to try again,” she said stubbornly.
“You should have picked a younger man, then,” he snapped. Perhaps if he had been her age he could have fucked her again right away, but he knew himself too well to believe himself capable of such things in the present.
“Not right now, I’m tired!” she said, exasperated and amused.
“When did you want me to service you, then?” he asked, huffing out an irritated breath.
Sansa’s eyes widened and she swatted his arm. “Don’t be obscene. I thought we might sleep for a while and try again when we wake up. We’re always up ages before any of the others anyway.”
Stannis didn’t know what to do. She was obviously set on staying the night. If he tried to make her leave she would get upset and threaten to tell her father about this… whatever this was. His breath hitched in his throat.
The way she had just said it was ’amazing’ kept echoing in his memory.
Women did not describe anything he did with them as amazing. Before Selyse his sexual exploits with women had been awkward and short-lived. He’d been green and wet behind the ears, mystified by everything about the female body. With Selyse the sex had been very good at first, and she had patiently helped him understand how to pleasure her, but when their initial feelings for each other waned and eventually died, their sex life soon became stilted and eventually nonexistent.
Sansa thought he was amazing and wanted more.
It was a stupid risk, and he was very insane for indulging her, but he thought he should probably just let her stay. It was what she wanted.
“Let’s just get some sleep, okay?” she said, a faint note of pleading in her voice.
She had never given head before, but according to Margaery it was not that complicated. Difficult, but not too complex. At least if one stuck to the basics. Sansa thought the basics ought to be enough.
Stannis was still sleeping when she started to fondle him under the duvet. He had been semi-hard, but became fully erect rapidly in response to her touch. Glancing at his oddly relaxed face, Sansa moved lower, bringing her head closer to his cock.
She moved the covers out of the way for the most part and spent a few minutes just stroking him and looking. She had never had a chance to just stare at someone’s cock like that. It was fascinating. It looked very angry somehow. All those veins and the slightly red hue, sort of big and aggressive and utterly masculine.
Sansa rolled her eyes at herself. It was a cock. Of course it looked masculine.
Curious about the taste she bent to lick the head. It tasted like salty skin. She decided to try to fit more of him in her mouth, but couldn’t even fit half without starting to gag. That’s fine, she would just use her hand for his length and focus on sucking on the head.
Stannis was awake. And it seemed he had rather a filthy mouth on him in bed. She blushed a little, but redoubled her efforts now that she knew he was actually aware of what she was doing.
It was obvious that she hadn’t done this before, but he didn’t care. She seemed to be taking care not to scrape her teeth against his skin, and that was all that really mattered. He was vaguely aware that she was moving her hand, but all he could really focus on was the feeling of her hot, wet mouth, and her tongue licking at him, and the way she occasionally sucked, creating a delicious pulling sensation. He couldn’t contain the litany of swear words that fell from his lips, hushed and breathless.
He wanted to grab her head and make her go deeper and faster and more, but he knew that would be rude. He grabbed onto the duvet instead.
After a little while Sansa seemed to figure out a rhythm, and Stannis couldn’t help the thrusting movements his hips decided to make in response. He tried to control himself, but it was completely reflexive.
A particularly violent jerk of his hips caused Sansa to sit up.
“I think you’ve had enough of that,” she said coyly, her eyes dark with lust.
What did she mean? She couldn’t intend to leave him like this?
Something in his expression must have betrayed his thoughts because she took one look at him and started to giggle.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled at him and pressed her body against his, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on her breast.
Oh. She wanted him to…
“You’re not sore?” he asked, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Mm, only a little. I can barely feel it.” She moaned more and more, obviously quite pleased with what he was doing to her breasts. It was good that she liked it. He quite enjoyed fondling her, so it would have been a shame if she hadn’t.
He decided to go down on her for a bit. He was a little too close to the finish line, and focusing on her for a while would make it possible for him to get his cock all the way inside of her before he came. Anyway, she had gone down on him. It was only fair.
She yelped in surprise when he moved down her body and used his hands to spread her thighs wide enough to accommodate him.
“What are you - oh!”
The taste of her was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, and he rather enjoyed the scent of her arousal. He held her thighs apart so that she wouldn’t close them around his head - it was an uncomfortable and claustrophobic sensation when a woman did that - and licked at her patiently. He listened to her quiet moans, taking his cues from her gasps and whimpers.
She was keening into a pillow by the time he was through, and he wasn’t managing to cool down much at all because the sounds she was making were so erotic.
He’d waited long enough. She wanted him to fuck her again, so he would fuck her again.
Deciding that he wanted better access this time, he pushed her legs up, spreading her wide. Her legs were bent at the knees, cradling him, and she gasped as soon as the head of his cock came into contact with her opening, notching into place.
He did not have to go quite as slowly this time, but he noticed her wince when he tried to thrust too soon, so he tried to be careful. This angle allowed him to penetrate her more deeply than before and he groaned when he was fully sheathed.
He was able to progress much faster from shallow to deep thrusts this time around, and Sansa was letting out breathy little gasps every time he buried himself to the hilt in her welcoming heat. He tried to stay as silent as he could, but a few grunts escaped him - the effort and the pleasure wringing the noise from his unwilling throat. Sansa seemed to like the noises he made, however, and he felt her tighten around him and claw at his back whenever he did.
“Oh, it’s so good! Please Stannis, please don’t stop!”
Hearing her plead and moan for him was more than he could take. He was nearly there, so close that he could taste it. He didn’t want to come because each thrust was ecstasy, but he couldn’t stop himself. He started to pull almost all the way out and force himself back fast and hard. She was almost too tight for him to manage it, but she egged him on eagerly.
When he came it forced a choked version of her name from his lips, and he had to close his eyes to hide how they were nearly rolling to the back of his skull.
He couldn’t bring himself to move for several beats, but Sansa made a noise of discomfort and he remembered himself. As soon as he rolled to the side she put her legs down, a sound of relief and pleasure escaping her.
“Okay, now I’m sore,” she giggled, “I’ll have to find an excuse to not do much walking today.”
“Did I hurt you?” He wasn’t sure if she was exaggerating or not. Why would she be smiling if she were sore?
“No, it was good! Don’t worry about it.”
Sansa cuddled up to him and gave his neck a lingering, soft kiss. In a certain way it felt more intimate than what they had just done. It made his heart speed up.
“I have to go back to my tent soon,” she sighed, “but I really don’t want to.”
He didn’t want her to go either. “Yes, that would probably be for the best.”
Sansa looked around for her panties and her nightgown. It did not take her long to find the items. It was a small tent. As she pulled her clothes on she looked at him. “Do you want to take me out sometime?”
“You mean on a date?”
“I don’t think that would be entirely -”
“If you say ‘appropriate’ I will kill you.”
They were silent while Stannis tried to process the idea of taking Sansa out on an official date. He’d have to talk to Ned. This was a problem since he would never again be able to have a conversation with Ned or look the man in the eye.
Remember your eldest daughter? The apple of your eye? Your cherished, precious Sansa? I would like to take her to dinner. You know, to make up for the fact that I fucked her in a tent. Twice. Oh, and she blew me.
He cringed at the mental image.
“Oh. I guess I - I just thought you might want to keep doing this.”
It was not exactly easy to forget how young Sansa was, but when she said something like that in her very vulnerable tone of voice she sounded painfully young.
Dirty, dirty old man.
“Never mind,” she mumbled and walked to the entrance of the tent, “I’ll see you around.”
She was gone before he managed to think of a reply.
In her mind she had always thought him similar to King Stannis from the history books. Honourable and just to a fault. She was sure King Stannis would never have treated a lady the way Stannis had just treated her.
“Sweetheart, are you feeling okay?”
Sansa looked at her dad in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to notice her foul mood. What should she say?
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“You look like something’s bothering you.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
“It’s not like you to just sit in the shadows and sulk. Why don’t you go join the game the others are playing?”
Sansa fidgeted and winced at the idea of doing much walking or running. The game seemed to require both. Stannis hadn’t hurt her, but she was definitely a little uncomfortable. Still, at least her legs didn’t feel quite as unsteady as they had when she had made her way back to her tent that morning.
“I think I’d just like to sit quietly today.” Sansa tried to sound cheerful. “I’m not sulking. I promise.”
Of course she was sulking. Stannis was too cowardly to take her out.
She had hardly finished the thought when Stannis showed up. He was scowling, but somehow she had the feeling that it was an uncomfortable scowl rather than an angry one.
“Stannis, how are you? I was just telling Sansa she ought to go join the game with the others. Don’t you think so?”
“Not unless she wants to.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Stannis took a deep breath and scowled even more deeply. “Please go out with me.”
Sansa stared at him. Was he really asking her out right in front of her father? Was he insane?
“Stannis, are you talking to Sansa?” Her dad was looking completely baffled. She imagined she had the same stupid look on her face. She shook herself a little, trying to snap out of her dumbfounded haze.
“Sure,” she said, smiling brightly at Stannis. The tension in his body lessened visibly.
“Did I miss something?” her father asked, still confused.
“Stannis just asked me out and I said yes,” Sansa recapped succinctly.
“Oh.” Her father frowned and his forehead got all wrinkly the way it did when he was thinking serious thoughts. “But… why?”
“Why did he ask me out, or why did I say yes?” Sansa was having a really hard time keeping herself from falling over and giggling helplessly.
Stannis was still scowling. He crossed his arms, presumably to make himself look even more annoyed.
“Both?” her father was looking back and forth between her and Stannis now, obviously wondering if this was some kind of joke.
“Well, I imagine he asked me out because he likes me. I said yes because I like him back,” she explained, biting back a grin.
Her father shot her a look that said: ‘stop trying to be clever, young lady.’ She tried to straighten her face, but she just couldn’t. The situation had just become too ridiculous. But if she started laughing then her father, or possibly Stannis, might think she wasn’t being serious about wanting to date Stannis.
She ended up with her lips pressed together so tightly that she thought she could feel them turning white.
“Sansa is correct,” Stannis finally decided to contribute to the conversation, “I think she is very - ah - charming and I would like to get to know her better.” He shrugged uncomfortably, his hands going to his sides.
Her father gaped at Stannis for several long moments. Finally he seemed to remember his manners and he closed his mouth.
“You’ve never minded me dating before,” Sansa reminded her father.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“No problem, I suppose. I’m just surprised. You two have never shown a particular interest in each other before.”
“Do you think I would have been interested in her before she became an adult?” Stannis sounded prickly and defensive. He crossed his arms again.
“This is a new thing, Dad,” Sansa soothed, trying to prevent the two men from getting their feathers all ruffled.
“All right. Same rules apply as always.” Her father clasped her shoulder briefly to emphasise his words and gave Stannis another bewildered look. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to Stannis, but Stannis just scowled and glared. Her father closed his mouth and walked off, shaking his head.
“Rules?” Stannis prompted once her father was out of earshot.
Sansa rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I think we’ve already broken them all.”
Sansa was sitting in a fold-out camping chair in a shady spot. She invited Stannis to sit in the vacant chair next to her, he sat down a bit stiffly.
“I didn’t think you were going to ask me out.”
“It’s the correct thing to do,” he muttered, looking a little embarrassed.
Sansa bristled. She did not want Stannis to take her out just because he felt obligated to. “Don’t take me out because it’s correct, take me out because you want to. Otherwise leave me alone.”
Stannis frowned. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her, searching her face. It was as if he were trying to find the right words hidden between her eyebrows.
“I want to,” he finally said.
She felt the angry tension leave her shoulders, and she slumped a little in her chair. The discomfort between her thighs intensified briefly, and she shifted around to try to minimize it.
“Are you - are you feeling…” he trailed off and swallowed noticeably. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” Stannis was reddening a little. It was rather adorable.
“Stannis, it was my first time and you - you’re not exactly… small, you know, down there. So yes, I am a bit sore. I’ll be okay. Stop worrying about it.” Sansa imagined that if it hadn’t been her first time he probably would have just taken her that much harder, and she would have been walking funny anyway.
Something to look forward to.
Stannis was looking a little speechless and embarrassed due to her words, but she noticed that his back had straightened a little when she had revealed that she thought he was big. Margaery was obviously right. All men were obsessed with the size of their equipment.
“Anyway, what’s your number?” she said, deciding to change the subject. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and started creating a new contact. Stannis recited his mobile number and she called him when she had finished saving his information.
“There, now you have my number too. What kind of date do you want to go on?” she asked him curiously.
He blinked at her and it was clear to Sansa that he obviously hadn’t thought about it.
“Dinner?” he said, though it came out as an uncertain question. It was almost as if he were afraid of getting it wrong somehow.
Sansa smiled at him mischievously. “As long as we end the evening at your apartment, I don’t really care what we do or where we go.”
He looked puzzled for a second, but it did not take long for his eyes to widen with understanding. He reddened a little more and cleared his throat.
“Dinner it is,” he said and nodded decisively. He seemed to be regaining his confidence and his composure.
“I look forward to it,” Sansa flirted.
It was true. She really, really did.