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

Sansa's sight drank in every inch of Petyr's body. She couldn't help but to focus on his flesh as it was being revealed her gaze first following the trail of the man's chest and stomach as he unfastened his top, exploring the entirety of his torso when he allowed the garment to fall from his shoulders. He was soft, though not unfit his form was of one that lived a comfortable life, unhardened and without scar from battle. Sapphire eyes trailed to his hands as he knelt down. She knew that they were as smooth and delicate as her own she had felt his touch, after all. He had tenderly cupped her face as he kissed her so long before. Sansa tried to recall the feel of his skin against hers, transferring part of the memory to imagine the feel of his fingers upon the flesh of her body. She wouldn't be allowing him to touch her tonight, however. Her gaze returned to his as he stood. She held eye contact as he moved his hands to the front of his pants, maintaining her focus until it was that he was fully disrobed. There was only a moments pause before her sight ventured downwards, leisurely trailing over his body. Her sight settled and she studied his manhood unabashedly. Her expression remained unreadable. His question lingered, unanswered. Eventually Sansa lifted her gaze to meet his, offering him a small but genuine smile. It would please me if you'd call me by my name, she remarked. She turned away from him and took several steps before glancing back at Littlefinger from over her right shoulder. It was easily apparent that she wasn't walking away from him rather, she was leading him towards her bed. As they approached she further commented, Something in your formalities feels like a lie to me, Petyr. Like some charade. She stopped at her bedside and turned to face him, waiting for him to come within reach before she continued. I don't want to know you as the world knows you, I've seen too much beneath the surface to believe in to the mask you wear. She placed a hand softly on his chest, eyes focused on his intently. She wanted to know everything that was in the man's mind. Not only what he knew , much as his information network supplied him, but also how he thought . It wasn't something Sansa could learn overnight and it wasn't something Lord Baelish was likely interested in teaching. She felt confident, though, that she could have the man for as long as she wanted. There was no rush in her quest. Her hand left him and motioned towards the bed, inviting Petyr to make himself comfortable. Once he was settled she continued. I want you to show me your restraint, Petyr, Sansa spoke evenly. She used a hand to sweep her hair forward, over her shoulder, causing the bright crimson tresses to cascade and rest upon her front. She reached behind her back and began unhooking the clasps of her gown. You will not touch me. The material of her dress loosened around her bust. You will not touch yourself. Sansa knew that Littlefinger was an entirely different kind of monster as compared to her late husband. No doubt he would be a more tender lover - although it didn't take much to accomplish that, few men were as sadistic as Ramsay Bolton - but the young woman was still hesitant to allow him any freedoms upon her person. She wanted to take the power that she had been denied, to rewrite her sexual identity. You will only watch as I pleasure myself, she concluded as she finished unfastening her gown to her waist. Her arms yet remained in the sleeves, the hold of the material about her shoulders concealing the sight of her porcelain skin from Petyr's view, the garment otherwise ready to fall from her form. Are you willing to place my desires above your own? She knew what his answer would be. Whether or not he meant it particularly long-term or if he would just sing what she wanted to hear was another question entirely a concern Sansa had to acknowledge. It didn't deter her, though. Before the man had an opportunity to answer the young woman was guiding the material of her dress from her shoulders and arms. It wasn't but seconds before the fabric gave way to reveal her chest. The material pooled around her waist, her torso left without any other coverings. Her breasts were a perfect handful each firm and gracefully rounded, capped by light pink nipples. The dancing shadows cast by the flames of the fireplace accentuated the contours of her body. Her hands moved to her hips and she further guided the material downwards. Her gown fell to the floor, puddling about her feet, her only remaining clothing a pair of simple panties. She stepped out from the fallen article, towards the bed, waiting only to hear Petyr's answer.