Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1169943.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sansa_Stark/Margaery_Tyrell
  Character:
      Margaery_Tyrell, Sansa_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Explicit_Language, Underage_Sex, Manipulation,
      Emotional_Manipulation, Politics, Kissing, French_Kissing, First_Time,
      Virginity, Oral_Sex, Cunnilingus, Dubious_Consent
  Collections:
      Porn_Battle_XV_(The_Ides_of_Porn)
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-06 Words: 2696
****** Don't You Know People Write Songs About Girls Like You? ******
by agirlnamedtruth
Summary
     It's not love. It's just good politics.
Notes
     Written for the Porn_Battle prompts Margaery Tyrell/Sansa Stark,
     comfort, confide, letters, politics, masquerade.
     Title from Girls_Like_You by The Naked And Famous.
See the end of the work for more notes
Sansa was so easily led, it was almost scary. Worrying, for sure. Margaery
could see how easy it had been for Cersei to manipulate her before and before
that, how Joffrey would have controlled her.
But they were lions, they tore girls apart and Sansa was a wolf, who also was
capable of tearing old queens and nasty little boys apart. Margaery couldn't
believe they'd been so stupid as to bait her, hurt her and then coldly comfort
her with veiled threats. You could only beat any animal so many times before it
bit back.
Margaery was a Tyrell. A rose. Beautiful, romantic, with her thorns well
hidden. She befriended the wolf and tamed the lions, declawed them and pulled
out their teeth. They could still bite her but Sansa would never draw blood,
the Lannisters wouldn't be able to.
The seeds planted in Sansa, lingering touches, longing looks, blushes and
secrets shared. She grew them into words, like love and want and desire. She
wrote down a slew of promises and suggestions and by the end, she'd painted
such a pretty picture in her letter that she almost believed her own
masquerade.
The last words of her letter asked that Sansa might meet her in the Godswood,
where nobody could question her presence or motives. And there she was, cloak
drawn up around her glowing cheeks. Margaery stepped out into a pool of
moonlight, the eyes of the trees judging her. She hoped her many blasphemies
would cancel themselves out.
"Sansa, my darling, you look positively frozen," Margaery proclaimed, even
though it was a warm night, just so she could take Sansa by the hands and pull
her close. A quick glance revealed it was because under her cloak, all she wore
was her corset and petticoats. She'd probably excused her maid early so she
wouldn't have to excuse herself later. Or she was trying to be seductive, time
would tell.
"You know why I'm here, tonight?" Margaery asked, needing to be sure of Sansa's
understanding of her letter. She was but a maiden still.
"You want us to be more than friends," Sansa said before colouring deeply. She
understood.
"Oh Sansa," Margaery said as if it were hopeless. As if she herself was
hopeless. "I want us to be so much more. But such a thing... It is unthinkable,
surely? I know I am not my brother, Loras, whom you admire so much but I need
you to know how I feel. I need to be honest with you because nobody else in
this wretched place will be."
Margaery looked down, more seeds sown that if nothing else, would bind Sansa's
trust to her, if not her heart. She couldn't be sure that Sansa would want her
love but she would want her honesty, her trust. Wanting to lie with another
woman would be something so scandalous to the sheltered little Northerner, even
if it mattered less than nothing to a Highgarden girl, where love ran more
freely than wine did in the Red Keep. So naturally, sharing her feelings would
make Sansa believe she was her confidant, if nothing else.
But she suspected it wouldn't end there. She had more she could give the little
wolf if she allowed a hand to pet her. She could show her such kindness, love
like in her songs. She could make her believe again, even if she was believing
a lie. There was bound to be curiosity, she knew Margaery was experienced in
such matters and she'd planted that seed a long while ago, it was time to
harvest it.
She took Sansa's face in her hands, looking deep into the girl's eyes, making
her own shed tears. "Tell me there's no hope for me whatsoever and I'll walk
you home and we'll be great friends still. Tell me there's no way in which you
might consider my love worthy of you."
She was laying it on thick, she knew but Sansa longed to believe her stories
again, she could see it in her eyes. The right words spoken the right way were
like a hair trigger on a bow.
"Nothing is ever completely hopeless," Sansa said diplomatically, making
Margaery proud. She was learning to play the game even if she didn't understand
the rules yet.
Margaery smiled, forcing more tears and laughter too. She pressed her lips to
Sansa's as if not thinking. "You don't know how happy that makes me."
When nothing was said about the impulsive, celebratory kiss, Margaery leaned
into her again. She didn't ask because it was easier for Sansa if she didn't
have to decide for herself. She hadn't had to take control in so long; it would
be too much to ask her to lead now. But she moved slowly, her intentions
obvious and instead of backing away shyly, Sansa pressed forward to meet her.
She kissed her sweetly; lips tasting each other like neither of them had kissed
before. Margaery’s hand drifted from Sansa's cheeks to her neck, up under her
hair until she felt Sansa shiver. Moving with care, she deepened the kiss, her
tongue tentatively tracing Sansa's lips until naturally, they opened for her.
Sansa's tongue moved experimentally alongside hers, learning to kiss with
passion, learning to let go and cling all at once. Her hands hovered nervously
on Margaery's hips and moaning into the girl's mouth to encourage her, Margaery
took one of Sansa's hands and guided it up her waist.
When she had her breathless and love drunk, Margaery broke away and looked
around nervously.
"We can't stay here, we might be seen," she hesitated, biting her lip coyly.
"You could come back to my chambers, if you didn't want to return to The Keep."
"Would that be... allowed?" Sansa asked but her hands were still on her waist.
Margaery knew she wasn't going to bed alone tonight.
"Loras guards the King tonight and us girls... we understand that love needs to
be tended, like a rose. It cannot be locked away and ignored anymore than it
can be forced."
Sansa nodded and Margaery took her hand, pulling her along until they were
running through the streets like rebels. All the guards were her own, placed
there for their safety should anything go awry but paid not to notice two
giggling girls sneaking through the Tyrell gardens just as her family had
agreed they would neither see or hear them.
She dragged Sansa into her room, using the high the run gave them to push her
against the door as it closed, kissing her amorously from the second she
touched her. This time, she let her hands explore Sansa's body, the pinch of
her waist in the corset, the flare of her hips, the swell of her breasts and
Sansa touched her in return, following Margaery's lead. When Sansa finally
dared to shrug off her cloak, Margaery pulled back as if shy.
"I'm sorry, my Lady, it was improper to act so wantonly. I do hope you'll
forgive me but I've desired nothing more than this for so long."
Sansa's eyes went wide; probably worried her own actions had been wrong so she
spoke quickly to excuse Margaery's worry. "No, no, please let us keep on... I
liked it."
Margaery looked up at her from under her lashes. "You did?"
Sansa nodded eagerly and Margaery reached for the clasp on her belt. "Would you
mind if I took this off, it's awfully hot and I dressed for the night air."
"No, of course," Sansa said, her eyes watching keenly as Margaery shrugged out
of the heavy blue brocade until she was stood in just her petticoats, her chest
bare and flushed. The little wolf blushed when Margaery caught her looking at
her form hungrily.
"It's alright; it's natural to want to look." Margaery stepped closer to her,
looking her up and down with open desire. "I want to look."
Margaery held her breath, she'd stirred desire in the girl with touches and
kisses, she'd made them equal in undress, she'd laid bare her feelings. This
was the make or break moment, in complete privacy and being told it was
alright, would Sansa reach for her.
The touch landed just under her breast, a place where Sansa had not been bold
enough to touch yet. Margaery smiled victoriously and let the breath out
raggedly, making her chest heave. Encouraged, Sansa traced around the curve of
her breast until her hand cupped it. And then she spoke, her voice cracking
with desire. "Will you kiss me again, please?"
"But of course," Margaery said, giggling. She led Sansa over to her bed and sat
down on it, pulling Sansa down with her, making her laugh too. Side by side
they lay, kissing each other like they had all the time in the world. Margaery
supposed they did, in a way. Her royal wedding was a long way off still and
Margaery had promised this night to Sansa. Even though arousal curled inside
her, she didn’t need to rush. Perhaps it was better if she didn’t; she didn’t
want to startle the little wolf.
But Sansa surprised her, kissing down her neck and over her breasts, pushing
the unspoken line by taking one of Margaery’s nipples into her mouth, sucking
gently, tasting it. When she looked up and tried to bring their mouths together
again like she hadn’t done anything, Margaery held up a hand, pushing the
boundaries further.
“I want you, Sansa, would that be... too much to ask of you this night?”
Margaery blinked slowly, trying to look as harmless as she could.
“I want to... I mean, I want you too but my maidenhead, I can’t...” Sansa
mumbled, turning pinker than she had all night.
“Ways and means, my sweet girl,” Margaery assured her. “I promise I will not do
anything that might shame you later. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“What would you do to me?” Sansa asked, curious, not afraid. She was growing
nicely under Margaery’s tending.
“Perhaps...” Margaery paused, thinking for a moment and then lowered her voice
to a confiding whisper again. “Do you ever pleasure yourself?”
“I-” Sansa swallowed, as if swallowing her embarrassment. “Sometimes.”
“And when you touch yourself,” Margaery dropped her voice again. “Do you ever
put anything inside yourself... your fingers, say.”
Sansa shook her head and Margaery nodded, bringing her hand up between then to
rub Sansa’s clit through her skirts. “Like this?”
This time Sansa nodded, pushing herself further into Margaery’s hand. She could
bring the girl several orgasms like this but... Margaery bit her lip, it
wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t anything the girl couldn’t do to herself. It
wouldn’t keep Sansa coming back for more and more, every night, no matter the
danger. It wouldn’t bind Sansa’s loyalties to her completely.
“Why don’t I show you something I learned in Highgarden?” Margaery offered,
bringing her other hand up to pull the laces from Sansa’s skirts while Sansa
eagerly nodded.
As she pushed it down over her hips, she smiled to see that Sansa had forgone
small clothes for their secret meeting. That meant that somewhere, deep down,
she had planned for something like this. It was good; Margaery wasn’t wearing
anything other than her skirts either. But then, she never did. Just in case.
She let her hand follow the skirts down to Sansa’s knees and then stroked back
up, this time on the inside, parting her legs gently so she could press her
fingers between them again. Under a sparse dusting of auburn hair, she found
Sansa hot and wet, practically throbbing against her fingertips. She pulled the
rest of the skirts off with her other hand and then brought her fingers to her
lips, tasting them.
Sansa’s eyes went wide, as if she were seeing things but they were dark with
desire. She took her hand and put her back against the mattress, enticing Sansa
to straddle her. Leading her with kisses, she eventually settled comfortably
over Margaery’s lap, leaning down over her so they could keep kissing, her hair
tickling Margaery’s face.
“Come closer,” Margaery said, entwining her fingers with Sansa’s and pulling
her forward, making her shuffle upwards. “Closer.”
Sansa shuffled forward again but not far enough. Margaery raised an eyebrow,
smiling enticingly, hoping Sansa would understand. The poor girl had lived in a
world of knights and ladies, Margaery feared that she couldn’t explain what she
wanted without being lewd and shattering her romanticism.
“Sansa, if you would permit me, I would very much like to taste you properly.
And for me to do that, I need you to bring yourself to my lips... I’ll show
you, see.”
Margaery motioned for Sansa to lift her hips and raise herself onto her knees.
Using Sansa’s hands, still clasped in her own, to lead her, Margaery brought
her hands over her own head and settled them on the mattress above her, making
Sansa stretch out on her hands and knees, her corseted chest over Margaery’s
face. It was a pretty view and one she would love to appreciate another time
but for now, her sights were set lower. She left Sansa’s hands where they were
and used her own to run down Sansa’s sides before grasping her hips and nudging
her forward until she was exactly where she needed her. Her pretty pink and
auburn cunt right over her lips, looking good enough to eat.
She let out a breath, knowing the barest whisper of air would drive Sansa wild.
True to her expectations, Sansa jumped up, straightening her back and her knees
until she was a tower over Margaery’s face. She grabbed Sansa’s hips, bringing
them back down and holding them steady as she licked along her lips, tasting
her strong on her tongue where she’d teased her so.
With each movement of her tongue, Sansa squeaked and squealed, the most
adorable sounds falling from her lips as she experienced someone worshipping
her cunt for the first time. Margaery’s hands slid up her waist, feeling the
bones of the corset defining Sansa’s form, making her feel womanly beneath her.
The sharp curves in and out, sculpted out of skin and wrapped in linen like she
was made just for her.
Margaery flicked her tongue in appreciation of her, drawing her closer and
closer to the brink before easing, slowing, teasing. She could feel Sansa’s
wetness running over her chin now, down her neck, mixed with her own spit.
She’d be a mess when she was done but it would be worth it, to wring such heady
pleasure from someone so inexperienced. Sansa would never look at another
again. She would have eyes only for her.
“Please, Mar-” Words failed Sansa as Margaery finally gave in and let her come,
the flat of her tongue feeling every shiver and shock as it passed through her
while Sansa incoherently cried out to the gods, the old and the new and the
ones reserved for this special moment of exquisite agony.
Feeling Sansa go boneless under her hands, Margaery directed her lie on the bed
beside her, using the quiet to consider her next move. Should she keep the
little wolf in her bed all night, giving her hour after hour of pleasure or
would that too much, too soon? Should she teach her what she knew about a
woman’s body, share secrets with her like sisters? Or should she bathe her in
love, romance and compliments – sing her the songs she so loved?
“What are you thinking about?” Sansa asked, noticing the crinkle in her brow.
“You, sweet thing,” Margaery answered, brushing her hand over Sansa’s cheek,
capturing stray hairs that had become unruly and pushing them back from her
face. “And how we will pass the time we have together.”
Sansa smiled freely and blushed deeply. She was drunk on love and sex and
everything in between, Margaery could see it like a thousand of her love
letters written on her face.
She smiled herself, more subdued, more pragmatically. She didn’t feel the same
rush but that was alright. It wasn’t love, after all. It was just good
politics.
End Notes
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