Thread: GoT - A Wolf and a Mockingbird (Miss Tris x Shadows)

Sansa gave a small nod in response to Petyrs question, granting his wish to touch her. Unintentionally she ceased to breathe as his fingers tenderly stroked her cheek. She was completely and utterly captivated. He had been the only man to touch her with such care, with such gentleness and finesse. She stared into his eyes, her heart beating wildly just as it had every time in the moments right before Lord Baelish kissed her. There was no resistance to his charms. Whether it was the man was genuinely everything she had ever wanted or if he was simply playing the partwell. He was welcome to the role, either way. She needed this. To be adored, to be treated as something precious. She eagerly accepted his kiss, returning the affections as she marveled at the skills of the mans silver tongue. She never wanted it to end. And yet she was the one to pull away. Good night, Petyr. She flashed him a sweet smile before snuggling in against him. The following morning, Sansa awoke in a manner that had been lost to her since childhood. Her eyes flitted open peacefully. She felthappy. Or, at least, she wasnt immediately assaulted by an anxious, suffocating fear of what terrible things might befall her on this day. Nestled against the body of her lover, she was truly unconcerned about anything outside of the comforting heat built between them. Her hand reached out idly, fingertips grazing over Petyrs flesh her sight traveled along the curve of his breast, her gaze settling upon the scar centered upon it. As she traced the scar visually she restrained the desire to run a finger along the mark. The offending wound had extended the entirety of his torso, starting at the base of his throat and continuing downwards beyond his navel. Petyr had questioned Sansa when she had claimed to know him so long ago. Perhaps she hadnt, then. Even now she couldnt say she fully understood the man, insofar as solving the complexities of his schemes, but she was perhaps closer than any other. An active interest in Petyrs past had revealed a great deal about him. She knew that this scar defined him. Receiving it had been the most painful experience of his life, both physically and emotionally. It represented Caitlyns rejection. He had fought for her handand lost. Soundly. It humiliated him, to be so easily cut down by Brandon Stark. To be forever branded with the mark of his failure. Littlefinger was born the day he was cut open, transformed into a man that wanted to be the King of the Ashes. Sansa lingered for several long moments before casting her attention upwards. Upon making eye contact she smiled warmly. Good morning, my love. She rolled her body towards him and propped herself on her elbow, allowing her to more fully press her lips against his. Her kiss was teasingly passionate and brief. As she drew back she continued to wear a bright smile. Sansa watched him, soaking in his response to her affection. She knew that he like any warm-blooded man wanted to be loved. More than that, he wanted to be loved by her . He might be the most dangerous and self-serving man in Westeros but Sansa feltsafe. She was all too willing to believe that she could become Petyrs exception to the rule, that a genuine love for her would render him unable to do her harm. That his cunning and drive could be applied in their interest, rather than just his . It was strange how quickly the young womans perspective of the game had changed. She had invited Lord Baelish to her chamber with the intention of playing against him, but already her romantic notions had her convinced it was possible to be on the same team. Even as she chastised herself for being naive she couldn't extinguish the hope entirely. A playful smile came to her lips. She reached out a hand, taking a hold of Petyrs. She drew his touch to her breast as she rolled on to her back, the contact of their bodies being broken, leaving Sansas form on display. The grip on the back of Lord Baelishs hand pressed his palm more firmly against her, a heated and almost whimperish exhalation escaping her lips in response. She removed her hand from his, her touch trailing up his arm, over his throat, coming to a rest cupping Petyrs jaw. Sapphire eyes stared intently into grey-green. Show me, Petyr, how it is to be brought pleasure by a mansolely for my own benefit. Sansas previous sexual experiences had been traumatic. Much as it might appear that making Petyr wait for his own gratification was some sort of power play, in reality it had much more to do with Sansa not being ready to be intimate. It helped some to pretend he was proving some semblance of loyalty or devotion to her in the process rather than admitting that she needed to be eased in to it. She knew Lord Baelish would play according to her boundaries, however, and she trusted no one else with redefining sex as she knew it. I want you to memorize the feel of my body, the taste of my skin I want you to spend the entirety of the day aching to sate your lusts for me. She lifted herself just enough to kiss him, her lips lingering sweetly upon his for several moments. Tonight I will be yours, she promised in a whisper.