Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11378070.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Jon_Snow/Sansa_Stark, Arya_Stark/Gendry_Waters, Jon_Snow/Multiple_Women,
      Jon_Snow/Ygritte_(past), Harrold_Hardyng/Sansa_Stark, Jon_Snow/Arya
      Stark, Jon_Snow/Arya_Stark/Sansa_Stark, Jon_Snow/Daenerys_Targaryen
  Character:
      Jon_Snow, Sansa_Stark, Arya_Stark, Val_(ASoIaF), Myranda_Royce, Mya
      Stone, Harrold_Hardyng, Arianne_Martell, Daemon_Sand, Alys_Karstark,
      Daenerys_Targaryen, Gendry_Waters, Samwell_Tarly, Gilly_(ASoIaF),
      Melisandre_of_Asshai, Tormund_Giantsbane, Margaery_Tyrell, Jeyne_Poole,
      Edric_"Ned"_Dayne, Joffrey_Baratheon, Myrcella_Baratheon
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Sexual_Content, Smut, Fluff,
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Jon_Snow_is_a
      manslut, swinging, Anal_Sex, Group_Sex, Oral_Sex, Rough_Sex, Casual_Sex,
      Coming_of_Age, Accidental_Voyeurism, Lots_of_Accidental_Voyeurism,
      Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Alternate_Universe_-_After
      College/University, Sexual_Roleplay, Roommates, Dirty_Talk, Dirty_Jokes,
      Statutory_Rape, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Virginity_Kink, First
      Time, Voyeurism, Jon_and_the_Starks_Are_Not_Related, Step-Sibling_Incest,
      Age_Difference, Some_Humor, Some_angst, Pegging_(light)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-02 Updated: 2018-01-10 Chapters: 10/13 Words: 92161
****** Stupid Sexy Jon Snow - ******
by A_Cold_Wind_Blows
Summary
     Sansa Stark moves far away from her troubles in New York to the sunny
     coasts of San Francisco! New life, new school, new Sansa! She even
     has her little sister Arya to show her the ropes. The only problem is
     her other roommate Jon Snow...
     -OR-
     Sansa struggles with living with her sort of brother Jon Snow now
     that he's become a tall, handsome, square-jawed set of abs who never
     wears a shirts and spends his nights very loudly fucking half the
     female population of California one thin wall over from her bedroom.
     -OR-
     Sansa is thirsty as hell for Jon's cut bod until one day it becomes
     more.
Notes
     This is smut. Depraved, explicit, unfiltered smut. But there will be
     fluff and story underneath. I promise.
***** Chapter 1 - Val *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa faces a heart-racing welcome from Jon and some blonde.

Sansa stared out across the concourse, trying to see if she could spot Arya
among the swarms of people.
 
The last Sansa had seen her sister was over Christmas, when Arya offered to
take Sansa in and away from her troubles back at King’s Landing College. She
had dressed the entire holiday break in a dark green hoodie with the tour
schedule for one of her favorite bands on the back. Only on Christmas morning
did she wear a nice pale-gold pleated dress that Mother had bought her and she
quickly pulled her trusted hoodie over the delicate garment the moment she was
permitted.
 
So Sansa was stunned when she came face-to-face with a petite catalog model
wearing a powder blue crop top with lace edgings on the bottom. The black high-
waisted jean shorts matched well with her navy-blue leggings and a long, light
brown cardigan that went down to her knees completing the ensemble. Her hair
was still chin-length, having never been longer since she was 8, but now the
familiar dark brown had a refined blue ombre color on the ends that Sansa’s
auburn locks could never pull off.
The only parts of her sister that Sansa recognized was the thick, black combat
boots that she had worn from the age 12 onwards, and the cool grey eyes of
their father.
 
“By the gods, Arya Stark is that you? You look gor-“
 
“Hurry up the hell up! Grab your bag stupid! I’m parked illegally!”
 
That seemed more like the little sister she remembered.
 
Sansa shook her shock away and followed, pulling along her wheelie bag that
contained her every worldly possession, which consisted mostly of outfits,
makeup, her hair dryer, her laptop, and a few mementos of her father.
Everything else she left behind her. Everything else was best forgotten.
When they pulled away from the airport and onto the highway Arya gave a whoop
of celebration and finally smiled.
 
“Well you did it! Welcome to sunny California!”
 
Despite her annoyance at Arya’s completely predictable bluntness, Sansa
couldn’t help but smile too as she relaxed against the car door. The water made
for a serene picture as they drove down the freeway and Sansa already felt some
tension leave her bones.
 
Some sun would be nice. A few mountain hiking trails. Maybe she would buy a
bike. The beach was already calling out to her and her new bikini, and she was
honestly excited for the Fashion Design program she would be pursuing at
Oldtown University. Her advisor had emailed her three days ago saying that he
had been a friend of her father’s and was excited by her portfolio, which only
reaffirmed her decision to move across the country.
 
Here she could start again and become the person she was supposed to be.
 
“The view is beautiful. I can’t get enough of that bay…” Sansa sighed
wistfully.
 
“You’ll get sick of it soon enough. The Bay is the only reason it ever gets
cold out here, otherwise it would be warm and perfect all the time.”
 
“Where is Jon?” Sansa asked. She was looking forward to catching up with him.
 
“He had to work. He’s excited to have you though, promise.”
 
Even though Arya had made the offer, it was really Jon that made this move
possible.
Money had already become tight when father died three years ago, but in the
past year things had progressed from bad to worse. Robb had been unable to stop
an under-the-table takeover of Stag and Stark Inc. by Lannister Mercantile
Bank, just as they’d been threatening for months. They had waited for the
perfect moment, when Robb’s position as CEO was most vulnerable, before
swooping in with an anonymous investor who helped cover the billion-dollar cost
of the buyout.
 
Robb became distraught and shut himself off from the rest of the family,
running away with his “Vegas wife” to the Tully summer home in Ireland,
meanwhile Mother had been scrambling with her attorneys and Uncle Brynden,
trying to find a way to make sure that none of these changes would affect Sansa
or her siblings. Bran especially, as he needed so much special care with his
wheelchair, and Sansa worried at times that Rickon might have some sort of ADHD
and would need special attention. Sansa had offered to drop out of school, to
“help the family,” her true reasons for wanting to leave school staying a
secret.
 
“Absolutely not. I’ll sell the house and starve myself before I ever let any of
my children miss out on a good education.” Mother’s tone had been harsher than
usual lately, but Sansa forgave her that. She had endured so much for them.
 
“Then maybe I’ll transfer to a cheaper school,” Sansa compromised, looking
across the dining table littered with bills and bank statements. “You’re paying
for my tuition and my board and my books and even my credit cards. If I go
somewhere else, I can apply for scholarships, maybe even some loan programs.
Get a part-time job maybe-”
 
“King’s Landing College is the best school in the country-“
 
“-and the most expensive. I could easily transfer to Eyrie Tech, or Blackvale
South, or even somewhere further away like Brightwater-"
 
“She should come to San Francisco, with me and Jon.”
 
They both turned to Arya who was pulling a water bottle out of the
refrigerator. Still in that hoodie, though now with cotton shorts instead of
jeans since it was summer.
 
“Oldtown University has a pretty good design program, my friend Donella is in
it. She says it’s super affordable, and if Sansa lives with me and Jon, the
rent would be cheaper than boarding at King’s Landing, or anywhere else in New
York for that matter.”
 
Mother opened her mouth to protest but then bit her lip. She had a hard time
refusing Arya in recent years.
 
After father died, the family had raged and cried and tore themselves apart
with despair, but of all the Stark children, Arya took the loss the hardest.
Bran was sad, but somehow able to endure it, most likely because he had already
gone through so much hardship from his car accident. Rickon was young enough to
adjust. Robb was Robb. Sansa was strong for mother and focused on Joffrey.
 
Arya became despondent. At only 14 she started drinking and staying out all
night, skipping classes and getting into fights, even messing around with
sketchy older boys. Most frighteningly she would come home with bruises up her
arms and legs, which mother wanted to believe were from Lacrosse practice, were
it not for the fact that Coach Cassel had already sent a letter home explaining
that Arya had skipped so much that she was kicked off the team. Mother was so
preoccupied with helping Robb and caring for Bran and Rickon, that more than
once Sansa had to be the one to scold her, which only made Arya rebel more.
 
It was only after Jon came to Winterfell for the funeral months later, the
police finally finished with their autopsy, that someone broke through to Arya.
She and Jon sat with mother and had a long talk that Sansa wasn’t privy to
(though she’d tried listening through the vent in her room) and afterwards it
was all somehow decided. Arya would leave her expensive private school to go to
some new-age Academy for the Arts that she’d found on the internet. At the time
Jon had dropped out of school and was living with some roommates only a few
miles from the school, so he promised to keep an eye on her and act as a sort
of de-facto guardian.
 
That’s when Sansa knew things were really bad.
 
Mother had always been… chilly with Jon, in a way that she couldn’t hide even
from her own children. Robb always tried to shield Bran and Rickon from it, but
Sansa was a mama’s girl and knew mother’s mind better than the others. Though
Jon never got in trouble, never caused them any difficulties or drama, he was
always father’s son and not Catelyn Stark’s. She would never see him that way,
let alone try to love him. When Jon graduated high school, he’d immediately
moved across the country for school. Sansa could tell mother was as glad of it
as Bran and Arya were crushed.
 
The fact that she would turn to Jon and allow him take Arya in, take her away
from where mother could keep an eye on her, was basically an admission that she
had no control over her daughter. Only father was ever able to reach Arya when
she went inside herself, and instead of mother taking up the duty when he died,
Jon did. It was like he had a piece of Eddard Stark that even his wife didn’t.
 
So to have another daughter turn to Jon Snow for help must have stung mother’s
pride, yet she found the grace to put it aside and agreed. Because Family
always came first.
 
“I’m going to miss you so much my little princess,” Catelyn had whispered the
night before her flight, brushing Sansa’s hair in front of her old high school
vanity. They hadn't done something like that in ages, not since Sansa was in
middle school, but she was too comforted to be embarrassed.
 
“It’ll be fine mother. Just keep helping Robb get the company back. Focus on
Bran. Focus on Rickon.”
 
“But what about you?”
 
“I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” Sansa was practiced at fake
smiles then. If mother knew any of the things that had happened at school, that
had happened with Joffrey, with Margaery… with Uncle Petyr… it would probably
be the final straw that killed her.
 
Mother nodded at her words, grateful and smiling before her expression became
uncomfortable. “And keep an eye on Arya. I want to make sure she’s doing
alright.”
 
“She’s fine mother,” Sansa laughed. “I mean, she’s the one helping me now,
really. She gets good grades at her new school, doesn’t she?”
 
“Yes, a school where I’ve never met the teachers or joined their PTA.” Mother’s
voice was filled with frustration and guilt. “For nearly four years Jon Snow
has been there for Arya and now with both of you living with him, it will be up
to you to make sure he doesn’t-“
 
“Mother,” Sansa cut her off before she said something embarrassing. “Jon cares
for Arya and-” She only paused for a moment, “-and he cares for me too. Arya
has really found herself I think. Maybe California will rub off on me and I’ll
find myself too.”
 
As Sansa thought more and more on her poor mother back home in Connecticut, she
glanced over at Arya again, amazed at how different she looked. All her life
Arya had insisted on dressing like a boy, acting like a boy, and only wearing
dresses when father or mother made her for special occasions.
 
No one would ever say she was as pretty as Sansa at that age (Sansa felt bad
the moment that thought crossed her mind), but Arya was unmistakably
blossoming. Along with her new clothes, Sansa noticed she was actually wearing
a little mascara and even some eye shadow that had a light blue tint. She had a
liquid lipstick on that complimented her skin tone well, and her skin was
gleaming in a way that could only be accomplished by good contouring.
 
Her accessories were on point as well. Colorful bracelets and old concert
passes adorned her wrists, silver rings with stones of jet and twisting
patterns on her fingers, and a black lace choker with a silver charm in the
middle. They were a little more Underground Concert in Brooklyn than Sansa’s
usual Fashion-Forward Manhattan Debutante, but it was cute. She wondered who
had taught her. She knew she hadn’t, and she couldn’t imagine Jon doing it.
 
“So, what’s the plan?” Sansa asked with a smile.
 
“We’ll grab dinner at this place I know, best fucking tacos, and then I was
thinking a walk along West Sphinx Beach before we go over to your new hoooome.”
Arya's voice took on a little sing-song quality at the end that made Sansa
shake her head and giggle.
 
“It's so crazy, I can’t believe I’m actually here... it’s just you and Jon
right?”
 
“Yep. It’s a two-bedroom place. Our third roommate Sam shared with Jon but then
he got whipped and moved in with a girl.”
 
“Oh. So I’ll be sharing with you?” That part of the arrangement must have
gotten lost in translation at some point.
 
“Well you could share with Jon instead if you’re into that sort of-” Arya
paused, a look that Sansa didn’t recognize in her eye, “-erm, never mind. Yeah,
we gotta room together, sorry if that cramps your style.”
 
“No, no, that- it’s great,” Sansa recovered quickly she hoped. If the idea was
fine with Arya, then it would be fine with her. She was the older sister. She
should be the mature one. “You and Jon are doing me a real favor here, so I’m
not going to complain.”
 
“Favor for you? Mom said you were doing this as a favor for her. To help save
money for Bran.” Sansa had the lie prepared.
 
“Well yes, that’s the main reason, but I was also getting frustrated with the
program at King’s Landing. It was too much about the business side of the
fashion industry and not enough about the designing itself,” Sansa's words were
practiced and precise. “Oldtown focuses more on teaching history of colors and
patterns and the creative process and some of the labs look really cool. I’m
really excited for the hands-on stuff. Less papers and more sewing I say!”
 
“Your words are lame gibberish to me but hear hear!” They both giggled then for
no reason other than each other. Like sisters.
Sansa couldn’t remember Arya ever responding so positively whenever she talked
about her interests. Usually her little sister would have some smart remark or
just shouted “Boring!” at her. Arya always carried an anger inside of her that
often managed to end up focused on Sansa.
 
Yet now Arya seemed… unburdened. Lighter. Happier.
 
Sansa was as pleased as she was envious.
 
Arya’s phone dinged then and she asked Sansa to read the text to her. The
message was from a Lommy “Greenhands” (that couldn’t be his real name, Sansa
thought) saying that he couldn’t find their presentation. A second text came in
as she was reading out loud that simply said, “We’re fucked. Halp?”
 
“Shit fuck!” Arya shouted, startling Sansa into dropping the phone. “Goddamn
idiot motherfucker!”
 
“Arya!”
 
“No Sansa, the only reason I was able to pick you up today is because I’m
missing a class, which was fine because it’s presentation day and Lommy said he
would take care of it.” Arya suddenly sped up and started cutting across three
lanes to make a quick exit. Sansa felt her heart jump into her throat.
 
“But if the fucking idiot doesn’t have the fucking Powerpoint I made him, he
won’t be able to do shit because he’s a fucking idiot, and then we’ll get an F
on the project instead of my needed C+ or higher. That’s going to knock my
average down from an A to a B- and I will not have that! Not in Mr. Yoren’s
class.”
 
“So no dinner then?” Sansa asked with her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see
the view anymore. Or Arya’s driving.
 
“I’m really sorry. I’ll just drop you off at the apartment, and then I’ll come
after I’m done and we can do dinner then.”
 
“No, no, it’s alright.” Sansa just wanted the ride to be over.
 
Fifteen terrifying minutes later Arya pulled into a parking spot (dazzling
Sansa with her strange magical skills that she called “parallel parking”) and
got out of the car, rushing Sansa out with her bags and into a doorway. It was
four steps from the parking spot.
 
“You have a spot right in front of your apartment? I thought that was
impossible in real life.”
 
“Jon has a really good set up here.” Arya said as an explanation. “So maybe
don’t cramp his style, okay?”
 
It was meant as a joke but it made Sansa wonder. The entire time she’d thought
about this trip (“No, not a trip, this is your new life,” she chastised
herself) she had only ever thought about Arya as a roommate, living with her
sister again like they did when they were kids, and escaping all the bad
memories at her old school. In concept she knew she was going to live with Jon,
their father’s adopted ward and Robb’s best friend growing up, but now she was
struck by the idea of actually living with him. Living with Jon… the person.
 
“We need to get on the elevator, we’re up on the top floor,” Arya lead her into
an old-fashioned machine with an iron gate that she closed by hand.
 
“How is it? Living with Jon?” Sansa felt foolish for only thinking to ask now
when she had already travelled across the country and there was no turning
back.
 
“It’s great! I love it a lot.”
 
“Yes but, does he have any annoying habits I should prepare myself for?”
 
“No, no, he’s super chill. Better than the shitheads I had in student housing.
I was practically in tears when mom said I could live with him and Sam. He’s
very sweet and thoughtful and clean. It’s like having a tall, hairy maid around
all the time who you can bully into making you dinner and giving you back
rubs.”
 
“Wow, so the perfect roommate, no complaints?” Sansa wished she didn’t sound so
suspicious, but life had thrown her through the wringer one too many times.
 
“Well… the apartment can get really hot, and there’s no AC, so sometimes Jon
walks around without a shirt and stuff but-” Arya paused there, eying Sansa
again with that strange look again.
 
“But what?”
 
“But I let him do it. We only have three fans and he let me put them all in my
room, which is now our room. So I cut him a little slack. Are you gonna be a
prude about it?”
 
“What!?” Now Sansa had to laugh. “Arya, I lived with three brothers. I actually
volunteered to change Rickon’s diapers, unlike you. And Robb and I shared a
room for two summers when we were renovating the beach house, remember? Theon
Greyjoy and Cley Cerwyn would come over practically every night and leave their
underwear lying around the bathroom. I can deal with living with a gross boy.”
 
Arya giggled as the elevator doors opened. “Good. Jon is being really nice you
know? Try to remember that this is his place, not ours. We’re not paying our
share of the rent, mom is. That means his place, his rules, and since he’s a
guy, sometimes he can be gross. You gotta not freak out about it.”
 
“Arya, I get it.” Sansa was getting annoyed now. She wasn’t made of tea
doilies! “I lived in a dorm last year you know.”
 
“Yeah, with some fuckhead freshmen and sorority girls,” Arya said as they
stopped in front of a door marked 4-D, Arya fitting a key into the door handle.
“Living with Jon can be a little -”
 
“UUUUUGHHHHHH!!!!!”
 
Sansa and Arya jumped at the screaming, greeted by a sight that made Sansa’s
heart freeze and all the blood in her body pool below her belly.
 
Growing up, Jon was always just one of Robb’s friends. Nothing more. She
understood that Jon was family in a way, Father in fact made Jon his ward
before Robb was even born, but she never really thought about Jon when it came
to family. When it came to home. He was just… there. A skinny kid with glasses
and messy, greasy hair, who would sometimes play with Arya or babysit Bran, but
most often shadowed Robb and whatever he was doing.
 
His clothes never fit right, his skin was always pale and covered in acne, and
he never smiled. Like Sansa couldn’t think of a single time he just enjoyed
himself and had fun. Honestly by the time Sansa was in high school she thought
he was kind of a loser, even when she was a lowly freshman and him a senior.
The few times he had visited Winterfell since then, she’d noticed he was a
little taller, his skin was a little clearer, but he was still boring,
dependable, skinny Jon Snow.
 
This male eye candy was unrecognizable.
 
Two bulky arms corded with thick, tight biceps connected to a wide, broad
expanse of smooth, sweaty skin. The mass that made up his shoulder blades
looked like they were chiseled from granite. Female hands were digging deep,
white lines down the smooth planes of his back in a futile attempt at
restraining him.
 
The muscles below his back pulsed in a gross yet hypnotic way as his grip
brutally tightened around the poor girl’s slim, quickly pinkening thighs. His
knuckles were turning white. Her back was smearing the wall in sweat.
 
But the real prize was his butt. Not only was it a good butt, meaty yet tight
(“An ass you want to take a bite out of,” Margaery might say) but it looked
strong. Evidentially very strong. Jon’s thrusting went on with no abatement or
pause. No quarter was given to his victim. The fervor in his movements
frightened her, so much so that a part of Sansa might have thought that the
girl might not be a willing partner if it weren’t for the clearly pleased
sounds she was making.
 
Though most startling to Sansa was the look on Jon’s face. It was so foreign on
his face that she didn’t recognize at first. He was smiling. Grinning in fact.
Instead of the familiar pimples and frowns from his teen years, Jon had a
thick, dark 5 o’clock shadow and a confident, Byronic gleam in his eye that
bordered on arrogant.
 
Clearly five years in California had agreed with him.
 
The girl in question was harder to observe as she kept shaking her head and
screeching, her eyes going from focused to manic then back again to focused.
Rinse and repeat.
 
Later, when her head was on straight, Sansa would logically reason that it was
just a few seconds, ten at most, rather than the endless purgatory it felt like
before Arya finally found the power to shout over the girl’s screams. Only then
did Jon stop.
 
“SANSA AND ARYA STARK ARE HERE!!!” Arya bellowed, one hand cupped at the side
of her mouth, the other pressing the doorbell as she tried to get his
attention.
 
“Wha-?!”
 
Rather than turn and show them his front as Sansa expected (and dreaded, she
told herself), Jon simply turned around, girl and all. As he faced them, his
balance tipped forward for a moment but he quickly steadied with a step. The
girl’s back was a little red from rubbing on the wall and she had a tattoo of
some letters going down the line of her spine but her long hair blocked enough
that Sansa couldn’t read it. Her hair was a pretty, golden-blonde color that
still managed to shine even whilst matted in sweat.
 
Even when carrying her, Jon didn’t look winded. Sweaty. Very sweaty. Like
disgustingly sweaty. But it was apparent even to Sansa that the girl weighed
practically nothing to him. His grip on her thighs didn’t even slip.
 
“Wha- I thought- you’re not-” Jon’s words were cut off by a sudden sharp slap
to the cheek.
 
“Hey! Did I fucking say sto-ooOHHH! HELLO THERE!” The woman shrieked when she
noticed them, her face rapidly going from dazed to alarmed “What a silly thing
I didn’t say just now that will not be repeated!!”
 
“They won’t- she’s- her name is Val and-”
 
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Arya and the woman shouted at the same time.
 
It was effective, as Jon then had the sense to scurry away, the girl still
clinging to his chest. As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Sansa’s
breathing returned.
 
“That was Jon? When did he… how is he…” She tried her hardest but couldn’t find
the words. Arya cut in between the fifth or sixth attempt.
 
“Well I guess that’s one way to address it,” Arya chuckled, acting cool and
pretending like she wasn’t blushing just as much as Sansa. “Now you know the
one drawback I was trying to avoid telling you.”
 
“You’ve caught him like this before.” It wasn’t a question. “How many times?”
 
Arya shrugged. “I lost count around five.”
 
Sansa was… whatever the 21st century version of being scandalized was.
“What is the matter with this Val woman?” She muttered. “Is she a dog in heat?”
 
Arya looked angry for the first time. “Jon is Jon, but don’t blame Val for his
bullshit. She’s actually really cool. This is the first time I’ve even seen
her, well, like that. I mean she babysits me sometimes, though Jon pretends
we’re hanging out like friends or some shit even though she’s way older-”
 
“Wait, wait, I’m confused. If you didn’t know he and Val were dating, then who
do you keep catching him with?”
 
Sansa already knew the answer to her own question yet Arya went on.
 
“Jon doesn’t really date in the, um, traditional sense…”
“You mean he messes around with girls.” Sansa wished her voice didn’t sound so
judgmental.
“It’s not really him, it’s like… some roommates don’t do dishes, some leave
food out to go bad, and Jon… Jon can’t say no to girls… like ever…”
 
Jon Snow, her father’s ward, Arya’s adoptive brother, Robb’s best friend, the
solemn orphan boy who redefined the concept of carrying a chip on your
shoulder.
All grown up into a slut.
 
“I should have stayed in New York.” 
***** Chapter 2 - Gym Rat *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa's been living with Jon for a month now and she thinks she
     understands him better... for the most part.
Chapter Notes
     Real quick, I changed the chapter number on this story to 7 because
     this was actually going to have more stuff, but the chapter was
     getting so long that I decided to break it in two. So if you were
     wondering when the six became seven, that was why.
     Anyway, enjoy Sansa's inner conflicts! Sansa and Jon become more
     fleshed out this chapter I think, which I believe some commenters
     will appreciate.
Jon shook the sweat out of his long, curling locks, bouncing from foot to foot
before he nodded to show he was ready. Suddenly he lunged at the woman but she
got her hands up in time before pumping her leg up and kicking Jon squarely in
the neck. He went down but did a fancy roll where he popped up at the end like
an action star and all the other classmates visibly swallowed at the sight.
She kicked Jon in the neck again, though this time he blocked it with the back
of his arm and nodded in appreciation. Zei opted for a different approach this
time, gripping Jon by the collar and falling back with him, executing a perfect
“roll-thing” as Sansa liked to call it in her head before slamming Jon back on
the mat.
“How like Zei,” Sansa thought to herself. “Always wanting to be on top.”
“Excellent technique, you turned his weight against him. That’s key when
fighting an attacker who is larger than you.”
The fire was gone from Zei’s eyes at the instructor’s words, replaced with a
girlish excitement as she jumped up and down on Jon’s lap at being complimented
by the former MMA fighter. The movements were innocent of course. Zei was just
one of those people who was sexual in everything she did, even the innocent
stuff. Jon for his part kept his hands on her upper back while he was
congratulating her.
Though Zei was one of those tall, elegant, sharp-faced model types, she
shattered all of Sansa’s preconceived notions by being into hardcore survival
hunting and bass fishing as well as being generally more aggressive than most
of the men Sansa had met. It took Sansa a while to draw these conclusions about
the woman, as her first impression completely threw Sansa for a loop. But then
there really wasn’t any good way to learn about a person’s inner character when
they were on their knees giving a guy head in the shower. (Sansa thought Jon
was alone and she had really needed to pee!)
Sansa couldn’t hold that against Zei though, that was more on Jon. Though Jon
had one night stands and little short lived casual relationships like a normal
person, he also had a bevy of “intimate friends” as he liked to call them who
were basically just friends with benefits. Sometimes they would see a movie, or
play video games, or go on hikes together, like friends do, but the days would
always end the same. In Jon’s bedroom.
Zei herself was a hiker but she also had a beautiful singing voice which Sansa
only knew because Zei was the only one who was willing to join Sansa in a duet
of Barbie Girl when Jon had invited her and Arya to come out to Karaoke with
them. Sansa thought at first that she didn’t want to intrude on their “date”
but once Arya agreed to come, she saw no reason not to join. The sight of Jon
struggling through “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” alone had made it all worth it.
After that night, Zei was growing to be one of her favorites among Jon’s
regular “callers” as Arya named them. Bethany was a little too into her own
music, Marei didn’t have a sense of humor to save a cat, and Alayaya couldn’t
hold a conversation for longer than seven minutes before she started chattering
on about her new nipple rings and how she recommended them for everyone (which,
no, just no.)
Jon was letting one of the newer students try a couple of attacks on him and
Sansa was fascinated once more at the giant smile he always wore as women
kicked him in the face and punched him in the groin and tried to find a way to
throw him onto his back like a sack of rice. She thought at first he was one of
those weird masochist types but it was clear now that whatever thing was going
on with Jon was more complicated than any pain stuff that she could simply look
up on the internet or read Fifty Shades of Grey to understand.
Of course, the genius of this job was that Jon met a lot of beautiful athletic
girls.
The way Jon had explained it was “Assistant Self-Defense Instructor” but it was
more accurate to call Jon “Crash Test Dummy.” Whenever Dacey Mormont, the real
instructor with training in Krav Maga, Judo, and Muay Thai Boxing, taught a new
move for her self-defense class, everyone would get a chance to try it at least
once on Jon. He was a big guy but not huge, more “top-heavy swimmer” than
“Kansas Linebacker,” so he was perfectly compact enough to throw around while
big enough to effectively simulate a real life attack. After Sansa saw the
first class, she felt she understood more about “Stupid Sexy Jon Snow” as she
now called him in her mind.
One was that his motives in some part truly were pure. He experienced a genuine
inner joy at feeling like he was helping these women take control of their own
safety and agency. Many of the classmates were obviously mooning over him, but
he never took it easy on them or flirted with them in class. He always focused
and challenged them and tried to encourage them to not hold back, reasoning
that in real life they couldn’t.
But the class was also a key part to his man-slut powers.
Most of the girls Jon “dated” came from the self-defense class, the rest coming
from Jon’s other job with the United States Park Police. Though Jon was
technically still in school, the last part of his program was an internship
with the USPP that would eventually lead to “rookie assignment” in one of San
Francisco’s National Parks. So Jon did rounds with rotating partners as a sort
of try-out that would eventually lead to the real thing once he graduated.
Apparently the job consisted mostly of walking trails and directing cute hiking
enthusiasts to park exits so it was going to be a perfect fit for Jon.
And Jon having a life plan beside getting laid all the time had been the
biggest relief to Sansa, Arya finding it hysterical when she was dense enough
to say such thoughts out loud to her sister. A month after the Val incident and
first moving here, Sansa felt like she was adjusting well to her new life, her
new school, schoolmates… but Jon was still giving her a bit of a hard time. She
was looking for the catch, the secret that would show what Jon was really doing
with all these girls, what ghost he was fighting or inner problem he was trying
to solve with this bottomless pit of casual sex, but Jon was actually pretty
well-adjusted.
He had a job. He was set to graduate on time with good grades. He woke up early
every morning to go for a half-hour run and then make Arya breakfast (this
gesture included making Sansa breakfast now as well which was an amazingly
sweet surprise) and always checked that she was doing her homework assignments
at night. He had guy friends he went drinking with (and the group included some
girls) and hobbies when he wanted to be alone. In a way Sansa envied Jon. He
seemed to have everything figured out and had grown very comfortable in his own
skin. He had this energy about him that made it seem like maybe life wasn’t so
hard, that everyone could just take the time to smell the roses and enjoy it.
He had nothing to prove, no ego about himself, no insecurities, just… Jon. It
was a strangely simple yet appealing energy.
The problem was that it was clearly too appealing.
As Jon held up two arm guards, Zei punched back and forth like a machine
between the two pads, the rapid, repetitive motion inevitably drawing Sansa’s
memory back to four days ago when she and Jon had previously worked out
together.
There was no catching them in the living room or the bathroom this time. Sansa
and Arya were sitting on their separate beds quietly studying when they heard
the front door open and the sounds of laughter. It wasn’t even ten minutes
later that the moans started, followed by the light thumps of skin on skin and
Jon’s Computer chair rolling back and forth in spot as Zei rode him. After
three weeks, Sansa now knew what every piece of furniture in Jon’s bedroom
sounded like when faced with vigorous activity.
But worse than the sex noise was the dirty talk.
“Quit pawing at my nipples, you’re going to make me come too early…” Zei
purred, sex dripping from every syllable even through the wall.
“Stop squirming so much and I won’t have to…” Jon purred back. Sansa first
heard that voice when Jon was having sex with Val on that first day and it had
really made her face burn red hot, but now at the dozenth listen, she’d grown
more accustomed to it.
“I tooooold you, if you play with my nipples I come too faaaaast,” Zei
pretended to complain, the squeaking sounds speeding up. “Annnnnnd I want…
this… to… la-laassst, hey st-stop that…”
”She asked very politely Jon, only seems fair,” Sansa reasoned.
“Sorry, I guess I can’t help myself when it comes to those nipples,” Jon
gruffed.
”Lame excuse Jon.”
“Well then find something else to do with those pesky ha-haaaandssss…”
”Oh Zei, you can’t give Jon an opening like that.”
Ten seconds later Zei gave a high-pitched cry before making a low guttural
sound that Sansa guessed meant she finished or had some other crazy sex goal
achieved that Sansa didn’t know about. After knowing Jon these past weeks, she
felt like she didn’t know anything about sex.
“You touched my nasty spot!” Zei whispered in scandal. “Don’t do it again
naughty boy…”
”Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Sansa must have sighed too loudly because Arya chuckled and gave her an
arrogant look that little sisters shouldn’t ever be allowed give their older
sisters. Taking her lead from Jon like she did for everything, Arya tended to
laze around the apartment in as little clothes as possible, whenever possible.
Supposedly to fight the heat but Sansa wasn’t sure.
As soon as Zei and Jon had started making some commotion, Arya had put her
notes away and grabbed her electric bass guitar, plugging in some expensive
head phones on the side so only she could hear the notes as she practiced.
Plus, the noise-cancelling effect was an essential part of covering the sex
noises. While Sansa struggled to even read a sentence in her Art History
textbook, Arya laid horizontally across her bed in a pair of neon green short
shorts and a peach half-tank that left the under part of her breasts to peek
out a bit. The kind of outfit that Arya could wear since she was so slim and
small but if Sansa wore it she would look like a pin-up calendar. The guitar
was laid across her lap while Arya laid her neck against the wall in such a
sharp 90-degree angle that it reminded Sansa how badly she needed to find a
good yoga class.
“What, do you find something entertaining about my joke of a life?” Sansa asked
with a grump in her voice.
“Absolutely,” Arya said. “Hey, tell me, are they still in the chair or have
they gotten to the anal yet?”
It was still hard for Sansa to adjust to her little sister talking so openly
about sex, but after three weeks Sansa had adjusted enough to at least stop
always being a moment away from fainting. At first she had felt that Jon was
letting Arya grow up too fast, but then later realized that all of the Stark
children had been forced to group up before they were ready, maybe Jon more
than any of them. Arya had friends, good grades, and dreams. So what if she
also talked about sex a lot? At least she was still a virgin (as Arya had
shared with her over her one supervised glass of wine with Sansa while Jon
slept over at the girl’s place for once).
“Still in the chair but based on the sounds of things, they’re building up to
it,” Sansa sighed.
“Ooof, you better hope she’s too tired to do it, otherwise that wall by your
bed is going to get very loud for at least fifteen minutes. She can keep a lid
on it for the most part for regular sex, but butt stuff always makes her
scream. And Jon gets excited and rougher so the bed usually bangs against the
wall.”
Sansa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Dear gods, this is all too much.”
“It’s okay. You’ll adjust. I did.” Arya plucked the strings a bit even though
she couldn’t hear the notes now with the headphones off. “Though I had Sam to
help. I’ll help you, but I can’t promise I’ll be as good as Sam. You just have
to find something to distract yourself.”
“Or someone could ask them to be more quiet, maybe someone who has actually met
and spoken with Zei?”
Arya frowned, already gearing up to defend Jon like she always did, though then
she smiled instead of going on a tirade.
“Sansa, when I first met Zei, I knew she was going to be a loud one, cause
she’s not as smart as some of Jon’s other callers,” Arya grimaced. “Shit, that
was a fucking bitch thing to say but it’s for real. Like, she just is not at
the same coolness level as Val or Wylla Manderly.”
Sansa felt herself tick at both of those names. Sansa just couldn’t like Val,
and she was actually the one to introduce Wylla to Jon’s Self Defense class,
though this was before she found out it was where Jon worked his sex magic.
Sansa still felt bad about how she spat her coffee onto a complaining Arya’s
shirt the next morning, when the green-haired, politically overactive, eco-
conscious Wylla Manderly from Sansa’s early morning MicroBio class came out of
Jon’s room wearing nothing but his “Meat is Murder, Delicious, Delicious
Murder,” t-shirt and a thong. It was like she’d served the poor girl up to Jon
on a silver platter.
“So because of her, I bought these headphones, and to justify the cost, I asked
my advisor if I could start up an instrument along with my dance classes and he
recommended the Cello Bass and Bass Guitar.”
Arya stood up then, adjusting the strap on her guitar before continuing.
“Sansa, I now love this instrument more than life itself. I can’t imagine not
playing the bass anymore. I will be buried with this. If you and this bass fell
into a river, I would rescue it first. Look at me when I’m holding this thing,
when I’m playing it, and look how fucking dope I look.”
Arya did a little playful pirouette before continuing. “I won’t show you, but I
am a musical sex goddess when I’m holding this thing naked. I am the dream of
aesthetic awesomeness that makes every lame older guy in a fifty-mile radius
want to leave his wife and kids because I look just that awe-inspiring. I am
bottled human crack.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my sister Arya?” Sansa asked in equal
part annoyance and amazement.
“Sansa, I’m serious, I’m having a moment with you. I’m trying to say that I
really, really love this bass.”
Sansa nodded. “I get it, I get it. You’re saying I should look at this as an
opportunity to find myself, to find my own bass guitar.”
“No, I’m saying I never would have gotten this thing if it weren’t for my need
to drown out Zei’s anal shrieks through that damn wall,” Arya finished with a
flourish on the bass guitar before sitting back on her bed again. “So in my
book, Zei is okay with me. She’s introduced me to my future husband, and if she
would like to take her karmic payment in the form of Jon buggering her good
every once in a while, then I say more power to her.”
Sansa cracked up at that and a moment later Arya did too, and for a blissful
thirty seconds Sansa couldn’t hear Jon and that girl.
For all the frustrating, confusing, weird problems that came with living with
Jon, living with Arya had turned out to be the happy bonus to Sansa’s life that
she didn’t even know she had needed. Because besides all the on paper good
stuff that Sansa reported to her mother in their weekly phone call, the school
work, the friends, the self-confidence; the real gem was that Arya had become
cool. Way cooler than Sansa would ever be.
And it was all because of Jon.
Jon had been the one to encourage Arya to keep pursuing dance, even when mother
had started pressuring her to focus more on math and science. He had made the
down payment on the bass guitar that Arya loved so much, even putting a little
etching on the back that said “Needle” which always made Arya tear up when she
talked about it, though Sansa didn’t know why. He kept her from binge drinking
yet was also lax enough to let her drink if he just always knew where and with
whom, which strangely was the only good way to curb her little sister. Jon
always put Arya first in every moment, defended her when others were critical
of her, and most importantly he made Arya feel safe. Any time Arya wanted to go
to a midnight concert or a local pop-up that was in the area’s rougher
neighborhoods, she always brought up Jon.
“If I get into trouble I can always call him,” she’d said at least three times
before Sansa gave up on trying to control her. Sansa wanted to say that Arya
couldn’t rely on Jon but even that didn’t turn out to be true.
Sansa’s least favorite of Jon’s “callers” was this thicker girl (in the head
sense as well as the bod sense) named Pia who seemed like she couldn’t hold a
thought in her head that wasn’t about Real Housewives or hinting at how her
boobs were bigger than Sansa’s. At least Zei was a literal model, so her vanity
could be excused a little. Pia thought she was hotter shit than she was.
She and Jon had been necking on the couch, keeping it PG-13 for the moment at
least which was a relief as Sansa knew she needed the kitchen counter if she
was going to complete this research paper. Her and Arya’s room was the coolest
in the apartment but it was also a little cramped.
Pia had been egging Jon on to just take her to the bedroom before they even
finished the movie (Jon kept pushing back that he was actually enjoying it)
when his cell ringed. He practically shoved the woman’s hand off his dick when
he answered, and a few seconds later Sansa could see the muscles in his neck
tighten. He never wore a shirt so Sansa had grown familiar with his different
reactions. Back tensing meant things were about to start with a girl. Neck
tensing meant something stressful.
“I’ll drive over right now, just be ten minutes,” he’d finished the call. “I
have to go P, my sister is caught up in Ashbury without a ride and it’s getting
dark.”
“She’s a big girl, she can find her own way,” Pia whined, making the hackles
rise in Sansa. “Besides, we were just about to get started-”
“It can wait.”
Both Pia and Sansa kind of jumped at that. He was never so abrupt with anyone,
man or woman, but nothing more was said as Jon went into his room and then came
back out with a shirt on and his car keys. He was putting shoes on when he
addressed Sansa. “Arya’s cool but I’m going to pick her up anyway. She said she
hasn’t eaten so can you nuke some of last night’s buttered noodles for her? If
she doesn’t eat as soon as she comes through the door, you know she’ll skip
dinner.”
“Uh, right, got it,” Sansa reacted as quickly as she could. She was surprised
Jon had noticed her there.
“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Pia shrieked.
Jon at least showed some pity. “I’m sorry P. If you wanted to reschedule, I’d
get it.”
“I don’t want to reschedule!” She sounded like a ten-year old, even though
Sansa knew she was older than Jon. “I got my hopes up all day that you would
pay attention to me and now you’re ditching me for that little-”
“Be very careful with what you’re about to say.”
Sansa had been paying attention to Pia, so she didn’t realize at first that
that voice was Jon. She had heard him growl and grunt and make his deep, deep
“sex” voice at girls but this was different. His voice was harsh, apathetic…
cold. Cold was the last thing anyone would ever think about Jon Snow. At least
not Stupid Sexy Jon Snow.
“I’m sorry…” she complained in that little girl way that meant she wasn’t
really. “It’s just… she’s not even your real sister Jon, you don’t have to do
what she says.”
Jon didn’t say anything more to that. He simply insisted that Pia get her
things and leave, though he kept his tone polite. He even gave her a little
goodbye kiss at the door, but Sansa could tell she was never coming back. Two
weeks later and Sansa had never seen her again. She dared to ask Jon about Pia
once a few days later but he only said one thing and then never spoke on it
again.
“We have different priorities.”
So it was stuff like that that kept Sansa from judging Jon too much. He was a
total sex addict or something, but beneath that he was a good guy.
The class was over so Jon left the training room through one of the glass doors
while the students were packing their things, bee-lining straight for Sansa at
the information desk. She opened the mini fridge that was below the desk and
pulled out Jon’s water bottle, having it at the ready for him by the time he
got to the desk and rang the bell. He always rang the bell even when she was
sitting right there and he always got this stupid grin on his face that made
Sansa want to punch him between those stupid stormy eyes of his.
“Excuse me, desk girl, could you tell me where I could get something to drink?”
“Wow, desk girl? Is this the Jon Snow charm that has captured the hearts of so
many?” Sansa dead-panned as she handed him the water and watched him pour the
first bits over his face before he started drinking. The water made his already
illegally tight tank-top somehow even tighter. And wetter.
Jon sighed after he finished gulping down half the bottle. “Gods, this place
has become so much more bearable since you started working here.”
“Why? Cause I keep your stuff in the fridge with mine?”
“No, cause when I talk to you, people don’t bug me,” Jon groused. “It used to
be I’d get a dozen questions from the students and would never even be able to
get to my locker for at least an hour. Now I just head over to you and everyone
stays away. You’re like my lucky charm Sansa.”
“More like they think you’re trying to hit on me,” Sansa thought to herself but
she just smiled at Jon’s words.
Though Oldtown was cheaper than KL College, Sansa still needed a part-time job
for spending money. The problem was, she had exactly zero working experience
and was trying her most desperate tactics to not have to work fast food. Jon
had been the one to tell her about the opening at his gym when one of their
info desk girls had quit suddenly. He’d said the whole thing was very
mysterious but Arya explained it later. The girl’s name was Meg and she was a
freshman at Oldtown who was head-over heels in love with Jon though he had
never noticed her, not even for a one-night stand. The love from a distance
grew too painful so she quit and got a new job in the Linguistics Department.
Arya was Facebook friends with her.
The real question was, had Jon lied to Sansa about not knowing why Meg had
quit, or was he really that dense? She still wasn’t sure.
“Hey, I have some good news by the way,” Jon continued. “I spoke to Val and she
did me a solid and talked to Lieutenant Gerrick, so I will no longer be working
a double-shift tomorrow. I am free for your birthday party.”
“That is great news!” is how Sansa honestly reacted. Her worries came a second
later.
Because Sansa didn’t know a lot of people in San Francisco, she had wanted to
do something small. Once, a long time ago in Connecticut, Sansa’s birthdays
were always the biggest parties with hundreds of guests that everyone looked
forward to every year. Friends came, family came, neighbors came, and sometimes
when Father was being especially generous celebrities would come. Stark and
Stag Inc. had a lot of high-profile clients who had loved Ned Stark to pieces
and were willing to do him any favors to please Sansa. Even at King’s Landing,
Margaery had managed to snag the Psi Chi chapter house for her birthday party
so it was a true rager.
But that was then and this was now. When Sansa’s birthday was only a week away,
Jon had asked her what she wanted to do. At first she said nothing, just maybe
dinner with him and Arya, but he eventually convinced her to throw a little
shindig at the apartment. It didn’t take much convincing honestly. She had been
more than a little blue thinking she wouldn’t get a party this year and Sansa
had made a couple of friends in her classes and she wanted to get to know them
better. Sansa felt she always functioned better in a high-paced social
environment like a party rather than in class where she always felt insecure
about her knowledge on the topic.
Except now she thought of her new friends… and Jon… in the same place…
“You should invite Val,” Sansa scrambled. If Val was there they would tell
people she wasn’t Jon’s girlfriend, but people would totally just act like Val
was his girlfriend anyway. Whatever weird open relationship things they did
aside, Sansa always thought of Val as Jon’s girlfriend anyway. Ironically, she
had never caught Val and Jon together after that first day yet she saw Val over
at the apartment a lot.
“Yeah, Arya said the same,” Jon nodded as he leaned over to place his elbows on
the desk, enveloping Sansa’s entire eye-line with his biceps, though she tried
to focus on his face.
“Well yeah, of course she did, she freaking loves Val…” Sansa muttered, more
bitterness in her voice than she meant.
“Hey, what does that mean?” Jon frowned.
“Nothing, nothing… Val is great…” Sansa evaded. ”A little too great is the
problem.”
Jon didn’t break eye contact for a long silence. It was probably a cop thing,
like an interrogation technique meant to make her talk, but Sansa was an expert
in keeping her emotions locked up. So they were just silent for an awkward
moment.
Jon finally broke. “Look… I know you might feel like… I don’t know, like this
is my life and you’re just coming into it, so you don’t want to rock the boat
or whatever. Like you owe me for taking you in and have to be as un-disruptive
as possible.”
She was struck by how on the nose Jon had gotten it. “Un-disruptive isn’t a
word.”
“I majored in Forensics, not English,” Jon always joked in that straight to the
point way that was so him. “I’m just trying to say, you don’t have to hold back
on me. When Arya came to San Francisco, I changed my life to accommodate her
better. I can do the same for you. I want to do the same for you.”
Sansa stayed silent.
“So if you have a problem with Val… I’m not saying I’ll drop her just like
that, she’s my friend and my co-worker, but we can definitely figure something
out. You and Arya and me are in this together, in that order. This is your home
now so you get more than just a say.”
”Shit Jon…” Sansa thought to herself. ”Way to be the best person ever when my
reasons for hating Val are so fucking petty.
“It’s not really about Val,” Sansa only half-lied. “It’s about the party and…
and you.”
“Me?” Jon was clearly not expecting that. “You said you wanted me at the party.
Should I bail out?”
“No, no, I want you there, I do, it’s just…” Sansa took a breath. “I don’t know
if I can trust you around my friends…” She hoped that was enough of a hint.
“What? I would never hurt any of your friends, you know that.” Jon looked
genuinely perplexed. “Just the opposite. I say tell your friends about Dacey’s
class and buy them all some mace and tasers.”
“Oh gods… yeah, I should invite my friends to join your class-”
“Dacey’s class-”
“Whatever. No. That’s not the problem.” Sansa could see Jon was still confused.
“Gods Jon, this isn’t Winterfell okay? I’m inviting like three people, four
max. This isn’t like high school when Theon started dating Kyra or Robb started
messing around with Jeyne Poole. If I lose these friends, I start back at
zero.”
For his part, Jon looked a little offended. “Hey, I’m not going to just attack
your friends!”
“Oh I know you never make the first move. I’m worried they’ll jump you, and you
won’t be able to say no. Because you’re somehow incapable of saying no.”
“That’s not true…” Jon griped.
“Then prove it, right now.”
“How?”
“Mister Snow?”
Sansa had noticed this one building up the courage to approach them for about
two minutes. She was one of the newer girls in the self-defense class and also
the smallest one among the long-legged athletes and models who tended to
attend. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, especially her eyes which seemed to
flow with an almost violet color in the right light, and she could somehow pull
off the platinum blonde hair look that Sansa always assumed was reserved for
comic book characters or porn.
She wore grey mesh, mid-rise leggings that had an eye-catching crisscross
cutting around the hips, showing off a lot tanned skin and the fact that she
clearly wasn’t wearing underwear. Along with that was a somehow even tighter
grey sports-bra that had a thinner lining over the chest to make a clever
little window for her cleavage. Sansa knew it was very functional as well as
being right out of a frat bro’s workout fantasy, but she couldn’t help but
think it was way too sexual to be wearing in a public gym. Her hair was styled
into a braided crown around her head, which was adorable but not a great choice
for working out.
Though Zei had taken up most of Jon’s attention as was her wont, this one had
tried her best to draw Jon’s eye in the most incorrect ways possible. Jon got
most excited when the girls were getting really into it, trying their hardest
to take him down and paying close attention to Dacey when she was teaching.
This girl though just spent the whole class staring at Jon, and whenever she
tried to practice a form, she managed to “mess it up” in some way that led to
her falling into his arms. He’d been patient but uninterested.
And apparently that wasn’t good enough for her.
“Oh, uh, hi,” Jon replied like a dummy. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Serenai,” she answered. Any disappointment she might have felt at Jon not
remembering her was absent from her face. “Remember? I said I had a little
training experience from my hometown in Lys… and you said you loved the food
from Lys, and I said, usually people mention the women. Then you laughed and I
said you had a cute smile.”
“Right, yes, of course,” Jon smiled at that moment, though Sansa guessed he
didn’t remember any of that. “How are you? Did the class go alright? I think I
remember you saying it was your first.”
“It went well, yes, but I’m thinking my um, legs work needs little attention,”
she explained in a heavy accent, blushing and avoiding Jon’s eyes, though in a
way that Sansa could tell was purposeful. “I was wondering if you ever did
private lessons or such? If not here, I have lots and lots of space back in my-
”
“I don’t do private lessons.” Jon said it a little too quickly so his tone was
softer on the next part. “That is to say, I’m not certified in any way to
teach, Dacey is. If you think you need extra instruction, you should check with
her.”
“But she doesn’t know how to touch me right.”
“The words is teach.” "Ugh, she knows that Jon.”
“I know that,” the girl giggled. It sounded like angels farting. “I am thinking
this is needing a more… intimate touch. Skin to skin.”
"Going for the kill, I can respect that.” Sansa eyed Jon’s reaction. Before he
could say anything though, the girl turned her back on him and placed her tiny
bird hands over his giant ham hocks, placing his palms over the cut openings
around her hips, running his fingers between the slits.
“See? I feel my hips locking right up. I need your help.”
Jon mumbled something that wasn’t words.
“You always touch me just right Mister Snow. Even better than when I do it by
myself…”
“Well maybe I’m too gentle with you,” Jon said a little flutter in his voice.
“Dacey can-”
“No, you misunderstand. Ms. Dacey is the one who is too soft.” The girl’s voice
was silk. Jon was practically twice her size so when she looked up and
whispered, her lips were right against his neck. “You have rough hands Mister
Snow. It won’t be good workout unless you- unless it makes me ache for long
time after. Just a little pain is good you said…”
“Wow.”
Both the girl and Jon turned to Sansa and she realized that she must have said
that last thought out loud. Jon had an inscrutable look on his face but the
girl gave her a very familiar one. It was a look Sansa had given to dozens of
girls whenever they looked at Joffrey. Little did she know at the time that no
amount of looks would keep Joffrey from wandering.
Jon cleared his throat and pulled his hands off before turning the girl around,
though that was a bit of a mistake. Even just gripping her by the shoulders was
enough for her. The seductive pouting of before was instantly replaced by a
breathless, blushing, shy look that made it look like she was going to pass out
at any moment. She looked like the cover to every airport romance novel and Jon
did his part looking like a wet, buff Fabio-type. Sansa was trying her hardest
not to think of this girl as anything but “slutty.”
“Serenei, if you want to keep coming to class, I encourage that. Take lessons
with Dacey. Learn to defend yourself while you’re here in the States. That’s
your focus. I unfortunately am not much help when it comes to anything… further
than that.”
”You’re giving her too many openings Jon.”
Except it seemed the words got through to the girl as she nodded. “Can I at
least Snapchat you later? So we can go over any questions I might have on my
hips?”
“Uh- sure. Of course.” Jon was a little thrown off but the girl was clearly
pleased with how things had ended, nodding before she gave Jon a kiss on each
cheek, which Sansa assumed was a cultural thing about Lys though she noticed
the second kiss lingered a bit. Then the girl bounced away and Jon let out a
breath.
“Wow, color me impressed,” Sansa laughed. “I guess the man can say no.”
Jon looked more than a little offended and Sansa thought she might have mis-
stepped somewhere. That was confirmed for her a moment later.
“Sansa, that girl goes to Arya’s school.”
“Wha-what?” Sansa gasped as she dropped her coffee, hot liquid splashing on her
hand even as it landed right side up and didn’t spill. “I thought- she looked
mid-twenties at least! Her tits are bigger than mine!! Do you know her? Is she
one of Arya’s friends?”
“No, I was lying before,” Jon explained, still frowning. “I did remember her
from class. I was just trying to discourage her. She told me she’s an exchange
student from Lys, here for a semester to learn English while someone lives with
her family to learn High Valyrian. She’s a grade below Arya at the Arts
Academy.”
”Great, I’m calling fifteen year-olds sluts now,” Sansa thought, though all she
said out loud was, “Well she has English down.”
“Sansa…” Jon still looked mad and the guilt was starting to make Sansa feel
ill. “I get it. You don’t have any reason to believe me when I tell you this,
and I have not done myself any favors by… carrying on like I did before you
moved in, but I do have limits. I do have common decency.”
“No, no, I know that Jon.” Sansa wanted this conversation to be over.
“You don’t have to worry about me sleeping with your friends, or Arya’s
friends, or anyone else.”
“Jon, I get it.”
“No, I know, but I really want to make this clear.” He took her hand then and
Sansa couldn’t help the blush she felt. How had that teeny-bopper handled Jon’s
hands on her fucking hips and back and shoulders if just holding hands with Jon
Snow got you going?
“You and Arya have full veto rights, okay?” She looked up at his face at that.
“I like to date-”
“That’s dating?” Sansa couldn’t help herself.
“Fine. I like sex. A lot.” Jon paused to see her reaction but she said nothing.
She was conservative, not a nun. “It’s like, one of three things that I like
without any reservations. So if it were up to me, I would carry on as I have
been since before Arya moved in.”
”Okay, so Jon’s been a manslut for quite a while and I just didn’t notice.”
There was an odd comfort in that.
“And you totally have that right-”
“No I don’t Sansa because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about what’s right
for the family. About Arya.” She could tell now that this was the more
familiar, very grim and serious Jon Snow from their childhood days. “Catelyn
told me that you were moving here to save the family money and making this big,
heartfelt sacrifice… but I can tell you were really sent here to take care of
Arya.”
”What? I don’t do shit for Arya. You’re the one parenting her,” Sansa thought
bitterly. “You and Val…”
“So we need to make sure she always comes first. Arya before everything else,
right?”
“Of course.” Sansa hadn’t always been the best sister but she knew she would
die for Arya. Like father would have wanted.
“But for me… after Arya, the most important priority is you. The day my…
predilections interfere with Arya’s life, I’ll stop. The day they even mess
with you one bit, I’ll stop.”
Sansa was a little bit speechless.
“You and Arya… you’re the most important part of my life now. You two are my
home. So I give you permission to start… um…”
Sansa knew what to say now.
“You’re right,” she nodded. “It’s time I start thinking of you in the same way.
I know you’re a good guy Jon. I can tell the good ones from the bad ones and
Jon Snow was always one of the good ones.
“And… and you’re really important to me too Jon.”
And he was.
Jon blushed a bit, a new for him as far as Sansa was concerned, but he smiled
and laughed awkwardly as he walked away, saying he needed a shower and that he
would see her at home. Something about the way he said that… home… Sansa felt
it for the first time.
”He called me his home… I mean, me and Arya but…”
“Sansa?”
She was knocked out of her thoughts as Jon turned back to her. “Yeah?”
“Um… what is Snapchat?”
Jon Snow, secret Lothario man-slut and yet, still that same old lame loser from
high school.
“Don’t worry about it. If you let that girl find you on Snapchat, I promise she
will get you sent to prison.”
***** Chapter 3 - Sansa's Party (Part 1 of 2) *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa gets a gift for her birthday: the truth. No returns.
Chapter Notes
     Hey everyone!
     So I'm glad people are enjoying the story, but I feel I have to
     address some of the comments about Jon. Is he a bad guardian, is he
     irresponsible for exposing Arya to such highly sexual environments,
     being such a dick to Sansa and women in general etc.? They are
     questions, to be sure. But I have something to say that should lift
     the burden of these worries from your hearts.
     Chill. This is a silly, smutty story about a heightened sexy reality.
     This is a modern au of a series where twin brother and sister are in
     love with three children, where an entire dynasty is built on a dude
     marrying both of his sisters, and where glaring sexual assaults on
     children (by our standards) occur every other chapter. Just because
     this setting more closely resembles our reality than the actual
     ASOIAF series, doesn't mean you should be applying your real-world
     sensibilities or morals onto this. Either enjoy it or not, but I'm
     not impressed by all the moralizing. It just bums me out honestly.
     This is not high school required reading. I called this story smut
     and I meant it.
     So this is where I'm giving those of you who can't do the above
     advice (hint: it's chill) the chance to just hop off now. This is the
     chapter where a lot of things come to a head. I'm actually adding
     some new tags to this story after this chapter that I didn't think
     were needed but now I know better based on mentioned comments. If you
     didn't like the earlier stuff, this will only be worse for you. If
     you don't turn back now, I won't feel sorry for any feelings of
     judgement or offense you have for the story, the character, or me.
     You were warned. Your comments will be deleted.
     (BTW, any criticisms you might have about the story will still be
     accepted, I just won't be taking judgement values like "This story
     (or Jon) is validating/endorsing "X" bad thing in the eyes of society
     by existing" and similar comments. You know the difference.)
     For those of you still on board though, please enjoy!
     ALSO MARIJUANA USAGE AHEAD SO BE WARNED OF THAT AS WELL!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Almost every single part of Sansa’s birthday party was going great except for
one thing, and just like when they were kids, Arya was that one thing. Sansa
supposed this was some sort of high school payback, a revenge on some imagined
wrong Sansa had done to Arya when they were younger. Arya had even chosen a
form of revenge that appealed to this newfound vanity that she had apparently
developed while living with Jon. Sansa loved it for the most part, she agreed
that Arya was absolutely gorgeous and loved that she was comfortable with her
own beauty, but sometimes Sansa worried that Arya was getting a little too
willing to show off her still-developing goods.
And the wig was just too much.
There were three groups, each by a fan. In one group was Jon with his friends
and a few quiet, more introverted misfits. In the second was some of Sansa’s
guests whose tastes in parties was a little bit more… elegant than this type of
celebration. Jon’s heavy duty speakers were pumping 90s classics on full blast
without irony, the whole room bursting into singing whenever a Disney classic
came on the playlist.
The third group was a circle of cheering people dancing around her little
sister.
“Poor little Arya,” mother had sighed to Sansa once. If only mother could see
her now.
She was wearing a black bustier top with light blue fringes that was laced
closed down her chest, exposing the skin underneath, Arya once again forgoing a
bra because, why not, she could unlike floppy-boobed Sansa! And of course,
Arya’s small, no-fat anywhere on her cherubic body that Sansa would never be
able to attain no matter how many times she let her gym membership expire, made
it work amazingly. Along with that was a short leather skirt that would have
looked incredibly wicked if not for the spanx worn underneath. The neon-orange
color of Arya’s bottom that flashed every once in a whole had bright green
lettering across the butt that read, “Can’t Touch This” with a little hammer
underneath.
Completing the ensemble was the final piece to Arya's Coachella Instagram model
look; her long, neon blue wig with one green fake peacock feather braided into
the side. She was wearing a lot of dark, glitter makeup that included a little
silver gleaming direwolf badge on her cheek that howled at the small, crescent
moon sticker under her left eye. At least seven guys who started coming onto
Arya started their approach by pointing out how “cool” that wolf was, and every
time Arya just said, “Dude, I’m underage, move on,” and most got the hint and
walked. The ones who couldn’t get the hint were quickly intimidated by Arya’s
big friend that she called simply Bull, a nickname that said it all.
Sansa had invited twenty people and in an uplifting turn of events, over ten
had actually attended. Jon had brought his promised five friends. Arya had
managed to outpace Sansa with fifteen, though Sansa was pretty sure she didn’t
know all their names. It all made for a very hot living room. Thankfully Sansa
had planned ahead and moved the fans into the room before the party, though she
was hoping she could stay sober enough to remember to move them back into her
and Arya’s room.
”So now Arya is the center of attention it seems.” She thought as she watched
Arya grab a girl whose nickname was Weasel (ugh to all of Arya’s friends and
their dumb nicknames), and started grinding with her in a way that made every
guy in the circle, and some girls, green with jealousy. Sansa was jealous too,
though for different reasons.
She gets to be the star at MY birthday party? She couldn’t wait until next
month for HER birthday party to break this outfit out?”
”Why would she do this to me? Did I do something? We were getting along this
morning!
Though Val wasn’t able to come to Sansa’s party, she had been there that
morning, having crashed on the couch to keep an eye on Arya while Jon pulled an
overnight shift with the USPP. She’d left them alone for twenty minutes around
5 to pick up donuts, which Arya scarfed down immediately. Sansa picked at one
donut piece by piece while she sipped her coffee. The topic of conversation was
the same as always, Arya’s favorite: sex.
“So this weird lady kept moaning about how Jon was ‘so big, so big,’ like, be
more creative in your dirty talk weird lady. Plus, she’s gotta have at least
fifty pounds on Jon. Can she really be so tight down there that she thinks our
Jon’s got some tripod in his pants or something?”
Sansa snorted hot coffee into her nostrils and it hurt a lot, like she was
drowning in lava, but she still managed to gasp out some words from behind her
napkin.
“Wait, so Jon isn’t big?” Sansa had always assumed… big penis, big orgasms,
right? “If it’s not a big swinging monster down there, why are all these women
so addicted over… it?” She whispered on the last part.
“Jon has enough down there to get everything done. It’s technique where he
excels. Plus, it’s in the eye of the beholder. The sexier you might think of
someone, the more you might see them the way you prefer, such as having a
larger than normal penis.” Val explained all of that in a tone that was not
unlike a doctor explaining how to take your new prescription zit cream.
“I think Jon is super sexy,” Arya said without hesitation. “But I don’t think
he’s got a magnum in his pants.”
“I don’t see what the fuss is all about with Jon anyway.” Sansa bit her lip to
try and will her blush away. But once she actually felt the blush wash down her
neck and back, she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling.
“Ooooohhh…. Look who’s red-faced…” Arya laughed at Sansa a bit. The moment felt
so nice. Just breakfast… sisters teasing each other about boys… like in a real
home…
… all thanks to Val…
Sansa shook those thoughts away and all her memories. As if the gods were
answering her prayers for a distraction, the doorbell rang and Sansa bee-lined
to it. Jon beat her there though and opened the door, greeting someone that
Sansa was not ready to face right now, so she immediately turned around and
pretended she was getting a phone call.
“Are you alright? That woman seems to have spooked you something good,” Mya
chuckled.
“My goodness, is that Jon’s girlfriend?” Myranda raised an eyebrow. “She looks
like Vampirella meets the Red Power Ranger attending Burning Man.”
“It’s our landlord Melisandre, now keep your voices down and pretend we’re
mingling.”
Mya and Myranda were the best sports in the world and immediately started
sipping from their solo cups, looking around like there was something
interesting about the ceiling. Though Sansa was glad of the good attendance, if
these two had been her only invited guests to come, that would have been enough
for Sansa.
Myranda was a Photography major (“The only degree that matters Dear Sansa, is
your M.R.S. degree…”) who sat next to Sansa in her Pre-Calc class. She always
whispered funny little jokes and juicy tales of gossip about celebrities and
high society during their dull, dry lectures. She usually liked to pay
attention in class, but Sansa actually did all of her assigned reading every
day and the professor just repeated stuff that she already knew from the book.
It was the kind of half-assing professor that you would have never, ever found
at King’s Landing College, yet happened half the time in Oldtown. Sansa was
trying to remember it was a public school and to not judge so much.
Mya helped her with that. Attending school for zoology entirely on scholarships
and loans, Mya had come up from nothing. Her life hadn’t resembled Sansa’s in
anyway, in both difficulty and in love. She had persevered through it all
though to become an amazing, well-rounded, truly noble person. Sansa knew
Father would have loved her. Mya was quiet but brave, honest but soft-spoken,
tough yet always kind. She was quiet for the most part but couldn’t stop once
you got her talking about her interests, namely her pets, her classes, and her
boyfriend Mychel. (Ex-boyfriend now though.)
And these two were the only ones who knew about Sansa’s… inner struggles about
Jon Snow.
“Well looking at him up close… ooph, I get it Sansa. If I lived with that, I
would be distracted alllll day long, hmph,” Myranda hummed. Jon had thankfully
worn a shirt to the party, but it was a distractedly tight Henley along with
peach board shorts that looked nothing like anything Jon would ever voluntarily
wear, but was exactly the kind of thing that Sansa would have recommended for
him in a pinch.
“I think he looks girly,” Mya sniped. She had been complimentary of Jon before,
but when Sansa had given her more details about how he carried on with his lady
“callers,” the older girl cooled off on him. Now Mya just saw Jon as a
“philanderer” as she liked to call it, which was the same word she used for
Mychel whenever she talked about their break up. Sansa wasn’t sure, but she had
a feeling that Mychel hadn’t kept to Mya’s bed.
She watched Jon and Melisandre speak like they were old friends, comfortable
and laughing as Jon took a Pyrex tray of brownies from her. The red woman
nodded a few times, combing her long elegant fingers through her clearly dyed
red hair, brushing it over the shoulders of the Japanese kimono that she was
always wearing. Sansa had had it in her head that Melisandre only ever wore
that one outfit and nothing else, and she wouldn’t accept that head canon as
anything else but truth.
Especially after she literally saw John rip it open in Melisandre’s office to
reveal completely bare, somehow ageless, milky-white skin and impossibly
perfect apple-sized breasts. Sansa had been dropping off a ladder she’d
borrowed from the building supply closet when she saw them. They were playing
some weird sex game where Jon’s hands were tied to Melisandre’s office chair
while she blew him. He was begging her to let him go, offering money or
anything else she wanted, and she would just keep whispering that his suffering
was all a part of the red god’s plan or some such colorful nonsense.
Eventually he “broke out” of the restraints (they weren’t real) and forced her
to stand, slipping the silk-like fabric off of her shoulders and fucking her on
the desk like a wild animal, her screaming the whole time about how she had
committed folly in creating a monster god or something, and Jon’s rigorous
thrusts were some kind of divine punishment for her arrogance at trying to
control the fires of Azor Ahai. It was decent stuff. Not Oscar-worthy, but
good.
After she had been fucked senseless, first with her butt on her desk while Jon
stood, then from behind while Jon laid over her back, one foot on the desk
while the other was still balanced on the ground, Jon made her give him oral
again to cap it all off. This time though he was standing so Sansa could see
every stomach muscle tense when he pulled her skull back and forth over his
length, her hair gathered up in his fist right up to undyed black roots. When
he came she started making choking noises but Jon forced her to keep sucking,
even as her hands started slapping his abs and chest in desperate, garbled
pleas. She stood up when he was finally finished, her face not disheveled in
the slightest, like it had all been a dream, and kissed Jon on the mouth as he
stood panting.
She was taller than Jon’s 5’11” frame, strangely tall for a woman, and the
image of her standing over him, almost enveloping him in her body, was amazing.
Jon tasting his own semen on the mysterious hippie-witch’s lips as they kissed
deeply after a round of hot rape-play or whatever they wanted to call it… it
haunted Sansa more than any moaning she had heard through the wall. Even more
than the Val incident.
Thankfully Melisandre left the party after a few more minutes of small talk, so
Sansa wouldn’t have to face her. Jon shouted at Arya that the red woman had
brought cupcakes, and moments later Arya and three of her giggly little friends
grabbed the tray from Jon and ran away, like they couldn’t face him because
they were too shy or some other façade that little girls liked to play when
they had a crush on an older boy.
”And Jon has become an attractive older boy… if I were Arya’s age, I might be
tempted. I certainly tried with Loras, gods help me, and he was older, sexual
preference aside.”
“Hey Sansa,” Jon called her over. “I’ve got your gift but it’s outside!”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Mya whispered.
“But if you do, give every detail.” Myranda winked which made Sansa smile and
realize how silly her weird feelings about Jon Snow were.
They trusted each other. “Trust. Trust. Trust,” she would repeat to herself.
She did trust Jon, didn’t she?
“Where’s my gift?” Sansa asked, fists on the hips of her sundress, causing Jon
to grin in that way that he only did for her. “I don’t see an N’Sync Trapper
Keeper-level gift here.”
“Huh?” Jon laughed.
“You said your gift would be the best you’ve ever given me. My N’Sync Trapper
Keeper in fourth grade is the gift to beat.”
Jon grinned even more somehow. “I feel confident that it will.”
“Pride goeth…” Sansa intoned before she followed Jon out the front door.
He led them to a ladder behind their washer and dryer set instead of the door,
which was surprising. They made their way to a sort of metal grate that looked
like a fire escape and Jon lowered a second ladder with a string that Sansa was
able to climb to get on the roof.
Or rather paradise.
It was gorgeous, a wide garden filled with grass, wildflowers, lilies,
dragonbells, and all sorts of other flowers that Sansa couldn’t name. There
were three little hutches that Sansa didn’t recognize at first until she heard
the buzzing that came from inside, and benches laid out opposite from them so
you could watch the bees’ growth, or whatever beekeepers did.
The key attraction though was the white wood archway in the center that had a
hanging swing bench chair with three cushions on it. It was the perfect spot to
read a book and Sansa immediately fantasized doing that. It got all sorts of
light from three different directions, either from the sun during the day or
mounted flood flights at night, yet the arch would create a pleasant little
spot of shade too.
And when Sansa touched it, she realized that the swing bench didn’t just look
like the one from Winterfell. It was made from weirwood, the rare wood that was
specific to Winterfell’s local forests. Just like her favorite swing from
childhood.
“Ta-daa!!” Jon shouted, not noticing how Sansa was struck speechless. “It’s for
you. As a sort of… birthday/apology gift. It’s sort of like the back garden, at
Winterfell, you know? The godswood as fa… your father called it. I mean, no
Winter Roses out in this climate but…”
“Why?” Sansa muttered. Jon knew she didn’t mean about the Winter Roses.
“Look, I know the walls are thin, and there’s no AC, and I… I have too many
guests over-”
“Is that what they call themselves? Guests?”
“Point,” Jon’s smile started to fade, now that he saw Sansa’s reaction. “But MY
point is just… I know it hasn’t been easy for you, making this transition, and
I haven’t been much help at all honestly, so I just wanted to… bring a little
piece of your old home to your new home. Maybe whenever you want to be alone,
or just have quiet, or want to think about your father… this can be that
special place for you.”
Sansa was still silent. An hour ago she’d been worried that Jon was going to
sleep with Cissy from her Design Lab, and now Jon was giving her all of this?
What was this game he was playing with her?
“Now, it’s only just yours, really, for tonight. Arya will know about this
place soon enough, I can’t keep it secret from her, and Meli said that if we
wanted exclusive access to this place that that would have to be reflected in
the rent when we sign the new lease-”
“Did Melisandre give this to us because you’re sleeping with her?”
Jon paused, no real shame on his face but clearly understanding now that Sansa
was feeling… differently than he had expected. It was her experience that
gestures like this, gifts so grand and beautiful, always came with an agenda.
With a cost. Maybe the cost wouldn’t be hers but was Jon going to pay it? Was
someone else? Did Sansa want the responsibility of having a place to herself, a
place only for her, if she knew that Jon had gotten it with the magic power of
his dick?
And if this was her private place… was that because Jon wanted more private
time for himself?
“So you know about that?” Jon asked, at least having the decency to not deny
it.
“I saw you two… together… in her office, the day after Val took us out for
frozen yogurt and that custard-pourer tried to get into your pants.”
“Oh man…” Jon blushed then, rubbing his lips with the webbing between his thumb
and his forefinger. “You saw that? If it’s any consolation, all that stuff she
said, that I said… it’s all just a… a game, you get that, right?”
“Yes, I get it Jon, I’m not an idiot. Rape fantasies are one of the most common
fantasies out there.” Sansa thought she remembered reading that somewhere but
she wasn’t sure, so she tried to just sell it on confidence alone. “I’m not…
judging, I just want to make sure that there aren’t any strings attached to
this.”
“There aren’t,” Jon shook his head fervidly. “She just finished construction on
this place and she could have made it open to the whole building and charged
everyone an extra $50 dollars, the only amount half the tenants would accept
honestly, with a net gain of $400.00 per month. Or… I suggested she could give
us exclusive key rights and even give us access through our apartment’s fire
escape, barring a month or two of getting the lock fixed, and in return I offer
to pay her an $600.00 extra on our rent every month, off the books. Everyone
wins.”
“Arya and I will kick in an extra $400.00 each month to help out.”
Jon looked annoyed and then dismayed. “Fine, if you really insist, but the
point of this was that I pay for you both, as my… gift to you.”
“Gifts… men always like giving you gifts…” She remembered Petyr’s words by
rote. “And they tell you there are no strings attached but there are.” She had
thought he was being nice, decent, that he was being the good soul that stories
and movies had always told her existed in the heart of every man.
But it was all lies. Every gift was just Petyr building his “credit” with
Sansa, and her due could only be paid by one thing.
The one thing that Jon gave to every girl he met. So what could he want from
her… if it wasn’t sex?
“Sansa… I’m not sure what you’re saying…”
“You? You don’t know?” Sansa rounded on Jon. “You’re the big man on campus Jon.
You’re the big dick that every girl wants, she just can’t help yourself. All
the little girls love JON FUCKING SNOW!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jon whispered, angry but also something
else. There was always something else going on behind a man’s eyes. “Sansa, I’m
really trying here.”
“Trying so hard that I can hear you through the wall every night Jon! Arya can
too!”
“She - I- she’s never- okay, so clearly hearing me with Zei and the others
bothers you more than I thought. I had kind of thought you- but never mind.
I’ll own my part of the fault. I’ll do a better job to-”
“You should have protected her.” ”Someone should have protected me.”
“Sansa… are you alright? You’re… you’re crying.”
“Jon, I need you to answer a question for me and be completely honest.”
She had these thoughts bouncing around her head and she couldn’t silence them
any longer. It’d been going on since the first day she moved in but Sansa
didn’t want to face it. Petyr kept flashing through her mind, reminding her of
her shame, and Sansa knew she had to say it now. Before all the air left her
lungs.
“I- of course. No lies. Never.” Jon nodded slowly. “I don’t know what’s going
on with you, and maybe I’m the wrong person to help, but you will always get
the truth from-”
“Are you trying to sleep with me?” She turned away from him, just to be safe.
“What? No, Sansa, that’s not what this is about, I swear,” Jon said it so
effortlessly that Sansa knew he was either telling the truth or he was a liar
of a higher caliber than even Joffrey, which just couldn’t be possible.
And yet Sansa could hear it in Jon’s voice. That slightly heavy quality that
came with having to face something that you know is coming, even if you never
give it a name or a voice in your own head. That one horrible thought that
infected everything else and made everything just as tainted.
“Sansa, I’m just… I’m trying to reach out to you, that’s all. If you don’t want
the garden, we’ll tell Meli-
“Are you sleeping with Arya?”
Jon didn’t answer for a long time, and so Sansa had no choice but to look over
her shoulder at him in the dark. He looked like he hadn’t heard her at first,
but when he finally answered Sansa could hear the gulf between them that she
had dug up. It kept growing.
“No.”
“Have you ever slept with Arya?”
“No.”
“Have you ever touched her?”
Jon’s eye, the one with the eagle scratch scar, twitched. “No.”
“Liar.”
Sansa sprinted past Jon, not listening as he tried to say shouting something to
her. She didn’t know how to get to their apartment’s fire escape like Jon, so
Sansa took a ladder that led down the side of the building and all the way to
the street. The heights made her dizzy, but having to listen to Jon make
excuses and come up with ways to justify it… she wasn’t sure she could take
that. She just kept promising herself that the next ladder rung would be the
last until that was finally the truth. She walked over to the front door and
hit the intercom button, knowing that someone at the party would just buzz her
through the door.
Thankfully Jon wasn’t waiting for her at the front. Sansa only wanted to talk
to one person and that one person was going to sit down with her right now. If
they didn’t talk about it now, Sansa would go insane. She felt like she was
going insane.
Mya and Myranda started when they saw her but were quickly bull-rushing her
with questions.
“What was the gift?”
“Did he kiss you or something, you look flushed.”
"Sansa, have you been crying?"
“I’m going to talk to Arya,” Sansa answered flatly, causing them both to look
at each other in confusion. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other that
long, and maybe I’m pushing this friendship too early, but can I ask you two to
do me a favor? If you see Jon, tell him I’m talking to Arya and that he should
just let us talk. Make sure he doesn’t interfere.”
“Of course,” Mya agreed, because she was just that kind of person. Always ready
to help.
“Only if you promise you’ll come into the studio for a session some time. I’m
really serious. I want you to be my next subject,” Myranda went on but Sansa
couldn’t hear her.
She just needed to talk to Arya.
Frustratingly, after being the center of everyone’s attention for over an hour,
now no one knew where Arya was. Sansa checked the kitchen, the various body
groupings in the living room, even the bathroom and their bedroom, but she was
nowhere to be seen. Sansa checked the last place, Jon’s bedroom, and found the
door locked. Fortunately, Jon had shared with her that their door key worked on
all the doors in the apartment as well. Not even Arya knew that.
Which is probably why Arya screamed when Sansa walked in on her passing a joint
to that Weasel girl. The two of them were on Jon’s bed while another girl sat
in his desk chair, the Throne of a Thousand Sighs as Sansa liked to think of
it. She had only seen the actual inside of Jon’s room twice, yet she felt that
she was strangely familiar with it.
She assumed the heavy skunk smell wasn’t a normal occurrence.
“Sansa!” Arya shrieked, standing up even as she not so subtly picked up an
Altoids can and tried to pass it back to Weasel, but one Sorority bitch stare
from Sansa made the girl cower enough that she could easily take the tin from
her.
“Gods Weasel, try and grow some ovaries, would you?” Arya sighed.
“Everyone out, I need to talk to my sister.”
They were clearly very smart girls. They bolted with lightning quick speed out
of the room. Arya only started to look nervous when Sansa closed the door
behind her. Part of Sansa still felt like she was back on that rooftop garden
with Jon. She wished she could see his gesture as just that, just a gesture.
But she had to know. If the price for looking the other way with Jon… was her
sister.
“I should have told you but like… it’s not a big deal. Pot’s actually way safer
than alcohol and it’s legal here. Sort of.” Arya could tell her words weren’t
working on Sansa so she changed tactics. “When I first got here, Jon got me
going with a therapist and she said I might want to look into anti-depressants,
but I remembered how mom said the side-effects were so terrible and… and weed
was the alternative option. So it’s kind of medicinal for me too, even though
my script ran out a while ago…”
“Arya, stop talking.” Sansa’s head felt like it was spinning. She looked at the
clock. Gods, only 20 minutes ago her biggest problem had been all the attention
Arya was getting. It felt like a lifetime.
“Look, on any other day I would probably come down on you for smoking this
garbage-”
“Oh come on! You’ve never even tried it-”
“-BUT!” Sansa shouted, which was out of character apparently because Arya
visibly flinched. “I don’t really care right now. A little recreational drug
use is normal at your age… having sex with a 23-year old man isn’t.”
”I guess we’ll start there.”
Ayra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I already told you, I’m a virgin!”
“So what, brothers don’t count, is that it?”
That got her attention. Arya’s usual fury melted away into hesitation. “What
are you doing?”
“Do you… or do you not… have sex with Jon?”
“I don’t!” Arya shouted, though Sansa raised an eyebrow when Arya became as red
as a tomato. “I- really! I have never had sex with Jon, ever! I swear it!”
“I’m not mom Arya, I’m not going to be nice about this. Has he ever touched you
in an inappropriate way?” Sansa kept getting more and more pissed off the more
she thought about it. Being pissed was better than being sad.
Arya bit her lip, her eyes scrambling back and forth as she tried to read
Sansa’s face but Sansa had gone from porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Eventually
Arya pulled that dumb wig off, the headband that was holding her hair back
reading “Winter Wolves Baseball Club” across it. For some reason the sight of
that made Sansa’s heart lighter.
“If you try to send Jon away, or-or try to make me testify against him in court
or some shit, I’ll lie on the stand. I don’t fucking care what you say.”
There was a furious look on Arya’s face but her eyes were red and watering. At
least that was still the same about Arya. When she started to get sad, she
always tried to tough it out. Arya claimed that she never cried, ever, period.
Sansa was just glad that she still had tears left to shed. Sansa had shed all
of hers long ago.
“I just want the truth Arya.” Sansa paused in thought before continuing. “Only
after I understand everything will I make my decision.”
Arya latched onto that as expected. She pretended to cough so she could wipe
her eyes against the palm of her hand before she started speaking.
“He’s only… we’ve only done real stuff twice.”
“What does that mean, ‘real stuff,’?” Sansa pressed.
“Just let me finish!” Arya shouted so loud that Sansa almost shushed her until
she remembered that her birthday party was still going on outside the door.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning. Did anything ever happen at
Winterfell?”
Arya actually chuckled at that. “I wish. No, when I was a little 7-year-old
with her 7-year-old crush on the boy who lived in my house and made me feel
more accepted than anyone else except for Dad… but Jon didn’t think of me that
way in the slightest. At one-point I even went on and on for months about how I
thought I would marry Jon one day. You remember right? I would always tell Mom,
‘Don’t worry about me finding someone to love. I’ll just marry Jon because I
love him.’ And Jon would say-”
“’Oh Arya, I would still love you even if you married Elmar Frey.’” Sansa
finished.
She did remember that. It was one of the few times that everyone at the table
laughed at one of Jon’s jokes, including mother. It was just a footnote in her
mind of that time in her life, but it was there. Would all of her childhood
memories about Jon now have to come into question?
“So it started here, in San Francisco,” Sansa continued for her.
“Yes… but not like at first,” Arya grimaced. “I mean gods Sansa, I was 14 when
I first moved here. I hadn’t even finished getting boobs yet. And I wasn’t
living with Jon.”
Sansa bit her lip, wanting to say something that she knew Arya would not
receive well. The truth was, Arya had clearly grown up over the past four
years, with the way she dressed, the way she acted, the way she partied. Yet
underneath all the lace and make up was just an almost 18-year-old girl who
could still be easily mistaken for a 14-year-old.
”But maybe that’s going a little too far to assassinate Jon’s character. I
mean, I’m only 19, 20 now, and I know in certain lights I can still look 16.
Does that mean any guy I might want to date is a future pedo?” Not everyone
could just be Joffreys or Petyrs. Could they?
“That first year I was just in so much therapy,” Arya continued, unnoticing of
Sansa’s thoughts. “Trying to get used to the new school, the new area, the new
weather. I didn’t even see Jon that often honestly. A dinner every two weeks or
something.” A flicker of nostalgia came to Arya’s face. “Plus I met Edric. He
was so sweet and beautiful, with these sad blue eyes and such soft, golden
hair…”
“Wait, who’s Edric? Oh gods, is he a friend of Jon’s?” Sansa’s heart froze. Had
Jon shared his sister? Their sister?
“What!? NO you loon! I met Edric at school! He was in my homeroom, gods!”
Arya’s tone was vicious but she was also blushing so Sansa thought she was
fine.
“Oh. Well when did you break up?” Sansa pointing them back on topic.
“A few weeks after my 16th birthday,” Arya sighed. “It was all my fault, I
fucked it up. Edric said he was willing to wait until I was ready to have sex,
and I believed him at first, but after a while… I couldn’t stop my own thoughts
you know? It was like, every day. I would think to myself, would this be the
day? Would he finally get fed up with putting up with me and demand I give him
some head or something? I couldn’t handle the pressure and… and I could tell
Edric was scared to take my virginity. Of the commitment. I told him I only
wanted- I only want to have sex with one man. The man I marry. Like mom did
with dad.”
Sansa was surprised but she hoped it didn’t show on her face. Saving yourself
for marriage felt like more of an old fashioned Sansa decision. It was strange
knowing maybe Arya had had that romantic heart too, once.
“… so I broke up with him before he could break up with me. Like a fucking
idiot. By the time I’d realized my mistake, he’d already started dating someone
else.”
She didn’t want to interrupt but she had to. “And that’s when Jon… approached
you?”
“Ha, yeah right.” Arya laid back on the bed, one hand over her eye as she
spoke. “My therapist said I do this thing where, when I feel bad, I try to
punish myself to feel better. It’s part of this whole self-loathing thing I’m
working on, but the main point is that I stopped taking care of myself for a
while there. Stopped eating, stopped bathing, stopped living.
“Jon couldn’t take any more of it after two days. He literally dragged me out
of bed and forced me to eat something. Like literally sat me up in a chair and
pushed the food into my face. And… he would always take me out on walks. Just
walks, nothing more. It was kind of weird, but I think we saw the whole city
after a month, which was cool. We wouldn’t do anything on the walks, no talking
or trying to deal with my problems, just… walked. It probably saved my life.
Jon says I’m being overdramatic when I say stuff like that, but it’s just
because he gets scared thinking about me being that fucking low.
“Finally after all of this, he asked if I could finally take a shower, cause
this whole time I was just, you know, deodorant reapplying. I said I felt too
tired for a shower… so he offered to give me a bath.”
Sansa must have given herself away because Arya shook her head before she could
speak.
“No like, an honest offer, not a sex one.”
“Maybe that’s what you thought. Sometimes people can manipulate you by making
you think you want something when you really don’t.” ”Joff did it to me all the
time.”
Arya looked even more done with this conversation. “It was a regular bath. But
I… I did enjoy it in a weird way that maybe, MAYBE, was kind of sexual. That
went on for a while. Jon just gave me baths and it was… just like that.
“Then one day after it’d grown into a routine… he was done washing my hair and
about to leave so I could wash my body and… and I asked him…”
Arya was fiddling her fingers over her face with an unfocused look so Sansa
helped out.
“Asked him what?”
“I asked him if he could… if he could show me… how to touch myself.” Arya sat
up, now with both hands over her face. “Fuck you this is so embarrassing. I had
never… done that before, and I’d never let Edric either. The most I’d ever done
was rub myself against his leg sometimes when we were kissing. Jon told me that
I could just figure out on my own what I liked but I knew, if I just begged and
pleaded and pushed… I knew Jon would give me what I wanted.
“After that he told me that baths were over and I agreed. I mean, he gave me my
first real orgasm. Jon could have asked me to eat rock salt and I would have
done it. I knew I’d pushed it too far though so, you know, I laid low. I
pretended it didn’t happen and Jon did too. That was that. I was less afraid of
sex too. I dated a couple of guys after that, none of them even came close to
how I felt about Edric, but they were mostly nice.”
Sansa could feel her sister holding back. “You said twice. What was the second
time?”
“The second time was entirely me.” Arya looked dead center into Sansa’s eyes.
“Jon had… he’d had a really, really bad day. Like… just look up Hardhome
Homeless Camp and Haunted Woods Fire and you’ll find a ton of news reports.
“Jon was the first responder and he saw… everything. Like, things that I’m sure
no person should ever have to see. He refused to tell me anything about it but
I knew. It wrecked him like nothing I’d ever seen before. More even than- um.”
“What?” Sansa asked, though for the first time it was out of concern for Jon.
“Than even when father died,” Arya recovered, eyeing Sansa in a way that dared
her to challenge it. “He wasn’t as bad as me, but he gave up a little too. You
think hearing a woman screaming through the wall about her hot consensual sex
is bad? Try three days of Jon weeping and waking up screaming and see if you
ever complain about Anal Zei or Threesome Arianne. Oh wait, you haven’t met
Arianne. Um, your friend Wylla or something.”
“You wanted to comfort him.” It wasn’t a question.
“I snuck into his room,” Arya shrugged. “Got under the covers by the foot of
the bed, crawled over his legs, and just started… experimenting. I wanted to
make him come in his sleep but he ended up waking up part way through. He
didn’t say anything though. Once he finished, I asked if I could stay with him
for a while and we cuddled. I mean, he was naked, but I wasn’t, at least not
then. I mean, well-”
“Just spit it out Arya!” Sansa’s nerves were shot at this point.
“I’m worried you won’t get it!” Arya whined, but after shaking her head in a
little tantrum she continued. “We’ve never really done anything after that,
but… we play these games.”
“Games?”
“When you’re not around. I’ll just… hang around in my underwear or sit on Jon’s
lap without a bra on, right when he doesn’t expect it. Sometimes we’ll wrestle
until one of us is pinning the other to the ground or, or, I’ll suck on his
nipple or lick his bellybutton and he has to fight me away. My favorite is when
I act like a real brat, Jon will pick me up and give my butt a couple of swats
and then I’ll pull my underwear down for the last one-”
“Stop, stop.” Sansa snapped her finger at Arya. She was panting.
“What, you don’t like to hear it? I thought you wanted the truth?” Arya
suddenly had the evilest smile. “When you’re not here, I like to walk around
naked and diddle my clit right in front of him, not even in a sexual way but
just so he can see it. I’ll climb on his back and rub myself against the belt
of his jeans until he pins my arms to my chest to make me stop. Sometimes I
purposely go to his bedroom after a really hard workout and rub the sweat off
my neck all over his face. Once in a while I’m satisfied with just a nipple
rubbing on his beard, but other times I’ll sit on his face until he throws me
off. Sometimes I skip all of that and just jump into the shower with him if I’m
feeling especially rotten and he gets me all squeaky clean. But you know the
thing about all of this Sansa?”
She couldn’t breathe when she asked “what?”
“JON NEVER EVER DOES ANYTHING!” Arya bellowed.
The cute little manic pixie dream girl vibe that Arya had been giving off all
night was gone. Now Arya had the stalwart, unmovable face of a Stark. A look
that father had had, Robb might still have, and sometimes Jon had when he
wasn’t trying so hard to be happy.
“What do you mean?” Sansa croaked, the emotion thick in her throat. “He just
ignores you?”
“It’s like this unspoken thing,” Arya explained more calmly. “Jon is a
panicker. You’re more alike than you think. At one point he thought all the
things you’re thinking right now. That he was abusing me, taking advantage of
me, hurting me, but that’s just not true. Or at least not the honest truth even
if it’s the technical one. We had our slip ups before, but our games have
never, ever led to anything sexual happening. And even though… even though I
really want to… like really, really want to… in a way, I know that if we
actually did it, if we actually fucked…”
“You’re testing him,” Sansa realized it as she said it. Arya tipped her head
back in surprise and then grinned.
“By the old gods yes! That’s exactly it!” Arya laughed like everything that
happened in the past ten minutes hadn’t just occurred. “I could never find the
right word. It’s like, Jon would never hurt me even if I wanted him to, so
every time we play our stupid game, I give him every chance to finally just
fucking prove me wrong and use me for my… my body… to just fucking take me
already and… fuck it’s hot to think of it that way… but also wrong. Very
wrong…”
Sansa stood up while Arya had her gross epiphany on the bed. “So the point of
the game… is for Jon not to have sex with you. And he doesn’t.”
“Exactly!” Arya laughed. “So you see, there’s nothing to worry about-”
“But you are going to eventually fuck him.”
Arya just shrugged that off. “Right before you moved in, when I knew you moving
in meant we wouldn’t get to play the game as much anymore, I cornered Jon and
told him, my virginity is his. When I turn 18, it won’t matter anymore. Jon
won’t be my guardian or anything, he won’t be raping me in the eyes of the law,
so we’ll be free to do it.”
“So you’re going to marry him?” Sansa asked.
Arya shrugged again. Sansa wished she would stop doing that!
“He’ll still be your brother.”
This time Arya didn’t shrug. She sneered. “That’s a weird argument coming from
you.”
“What does that mean?”
Arya shook her head in the most condescending way. “I didn’t get it at first
either. I would wake up every morning, my underwear drenched and I was feeling
like I hadn’t gotten any sleep. I got waaaayy into my nipples after listening
to Zei talk about her nipples all the fucking time-”
“Arya, please stop talking about your gross fetishes!” Sansa groaned, crouching
and covering her ears with her elbows so her forearms could cover how much she
was blushing. “Why would you think I want to hear this?”
“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to know my entire sexual history a minute ago
when you thought it included Jon raping me! And you like hearing Jon have sex
with those girls too, just admit it,” Arya was leaning next to her on the
floor, patting her back. “You touch yourself to the sounds like I do.”
“Nooooooooo….” Sansa whined from her arm burrow. “How did you know?”
“You’re very quiet, I’ve never heard you… but well… I had a very brief period
after Edric where I thought maybe I was gay and well… you’re gonna be grossed
out, but I know the smell.”
“Ugh.” Sansa dipped her head further down to the floor. "So the reason he fucks
all those girls is to deal with how turned on he is from you?"
"Actually, I used to think that," Arya paused in thought. "But since you got
here, we can't really do the game anymore and Jon has only slowed down a little
bit."
"Oh good, it would be weird if he needed to think about his sister to get off,"
Sansa madly laughed.
“Jon isn’t our brother, not really, and yet he is. Which means he can still be
my big brother… while also being something more.” Sansa peeked an eye out to
see that Arya was sitting on the floor next to her. “You can look at that as a
weird thing, I get it. But the way I look at it… we get to have both Sansa.
We’re lucky.”
“We?” Sansa laughed as loud as she could to show how ludicrous she found this.
“What do you mean we? You’re the weird incest fetish freak! I might be
physically attracted to Jon, but I’m not like you. I can’t think of him that
way.”
“Well that’s dumb.”
“Excuse me?” Sansa was pissed again, though there was less gas in the tank for
her vitriol toward Arya. Was she still mad at Jon? She wasn’t sure now.
“I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not dumb,” Arya nodded, looking at least
somewhat genuine in her apology. “But it’s just… I don’t know, nonsensical.
Sansa, you already don’t think of Jon as your brother. At best you think of him
as like, my adoptive dad or something.”
“He is,” Sansa argued, even as she felt that that was the wrong answer.
“No, look, Jon might feed me and help me with my homework, but he’s not…” Arya
sighed. “We had great parents Sansa. I know what having a dad is like. Having
Jon in my life is not a replacement for that. Stability is not the same as
parenting. At best I think of Jon as my adult older brother who is wiser than
me, but since dad died… really I’ve been on my own.”
Sansa could feel herself coming up with more arguments to that but honestly she
was just so tired. Hadn’t she felt that way herself at times? Hadn’t this night
started out as a really good party? Wasn’t it her birthday? Jon had gotten her
a private rooftop garden as a gift, so why was she trying so hard to make him
the villain?
”Uncle Petyr, please stop… it doesn’t feel good anymore. You promised-”
”Shhh… it’s alright… I’m so close… Cat…”
“Sansa?”
Her tongue tasted like garbage. At some point Sansa had gone from sitting on
the floor to pushing her face into the carpet hard enough that she could feel
the fabric indentations on her cheek. She knew where she was and what day it
was, that was good, but she couldn’t remember why she had come here.
“Sansa, you’re freaking me out here.”
“Just promise me Arya, promise me…” Sansa’s voice sounded muffled even to
herself. “Jon only makes it feel good, right?”
“What?” Arya looked like she was going to say something acidic but then changed
her mind. “Of course Sansa. I get the age thing bothering you but honestly… if
there’s anyone trying to take advantage of anyone, it’s me trying to take
advantage of Jon.”
“Fuck…” Sansa sniffled. “I think I basically implied he was a pedophile to his
face.”
“Shit, really?” Arya suddenly stood and grabbed her phone. “I thought if we
ever had this talk it would be before you spoke to Jon, and definitely not at
your surprisingly successful party.”
As Arya was texting, Sansa glanced down at the Altoids can that had been in her
hands. It had fallen to the carpet at some point and Sansa could see now that
there was a little baggy with a green substance inside with some small sheets
of paper and a single, already rolled joint. The joint Arya had been smoking
earlier. She could tell from the lipstick color on the end.
Leonette Fossoway, Margaery’s other brother Garlan’s longtime girlfriend and
Treasurer of the Psi Chi King’s Landing Chapter, had been a little bit of a
girl crush for Sansa. She was incredibly good at math but also more
stereotypical activities like party planning and interior design. She was
planning on becoming a big stock market trader to make her and Garlan so rich
that he could quit his baseball career early and just run a junior’s league in
their hometown like they’d always talked about. Leonette was smart enough for
Sansa to believe it might happen.
And Sansa thought of one moment in particular with Leonette Fossoway, when the
girl showed her how to properly rip giant bong hit at the Midterm Hoedown
party, after Garlan talked about wanting a break. The whole night Leonette had
been weird and unfocused and kind of sleepy in an annoying way… but she had
forgotten her problems for a night.
”I just want to enjoy my party. I can put off my apology to Jon and my obvious
need for a therapist until tomorrow.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Arya shouted when she noticed what Sansa was doing. “Fuck,
you’re smoking the whole thing! Sansa, stop, that’s a big joint. I was planning
on nursing that the whole night and sharing it out.”
“Sucks to be everyone else,” Sansa croaked before letting out her breath,
trying to see if she could still make smoke rings like she could when she
smoked regular cigarettes in high school.
“Whoa, uh… that was a good hit. Have you… have you done this before?”
The weed was must have been kicking in quickly. “You don’t know my life Arya.
You think I’m all sewing holes in dresses and following One Direction on
Instagram? I have layers.”
Arya gave her a weird smile. “Wow. Sansa 2.0.”
“Why did you want me to live here?” Sansa asked, not really caring about the
answer anymore but still wanting to stall before they went back into the party.
“If you knew I might freak out about your weird thing with Jon, it seems like a
bad move to invite me to live here.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Arya barked, taking the weed from her. Sansa gave her a
skeptical look.
“Seriously!” Arya exclaimed, looking at the joint. “Shit, you really killed it.
I guess you needed it though. That was probably the equivalent of like, three
lemon drop shots in alcohol terms.”
“Lemon drop!” Sansa shouted. “But seriously, you wanted me to catch you,
right?”
“Sansa truly, I didn’t want you here in the first place. If you weren’t here,
Jon was just going to pay Sam’s part of the rent and I was going to have him
all to myself. I had fantasies about us sleeping in his bed together and making
our current room my music studio.”
“So wait… then why did you make the offer to mom?” Sansa still remembered that
day so vividly. It was the only time she could remember Arya inviting her
anywhere.
“Because Jon thought it would be a good idea,” Arya laughed. “And when I saw
how much you wanted to transfer- hey wait, that dick!”
“What?” Sansa asked, confused but really okay with being confused.
“He told me that you should live with us like a week after I gave him that
blowjob. He probably wanted you living here to help keep me off of him! And it
worked! We’ve only played the game twice now since you started living here.
That shit!”
Sansa made a long spitting noise with her lips to show what she thought of
that. “So Jon just wanted a… a sexual referee? And he picked me for the job?
That’s so fucking crazy, my life is so fucking crazy now Arya. Who would think
that way?”
“Well yeah… that’s Jon. Love him or leave him.”
“Wait, wait,” Sansa was remembering something. “That day… when Jon was sitting
on the Throne of a Thousand Sighs and you were sitting in his lap reading your
iPad… were you naked under that blanket? I felt like you were but-”
“Throne of what?” Arya rolled her eyes. “You know what, never mind. I feel like
we're past the constructive phase of this high. Can we get back to the party
now?”
“Aye aye Watson.”
She would have more questions tomorrow. Maybe she and Jon could lay some ground
rules about this weird game going forward. For now, Sansa got up and got back
to the party.
Chapter End Notes
     Steamy enough for you? No? You want steamier? Comment and kudos
     please!
***** Chapter 4 - Sansa's Party (Part 2 of 2) *****
Chapter Summary
     The party was fun... but the after party is where the real action
     happens.
Chapter Notes
     Brace yourselves, this is a long one.
5:59 A.M.
Sansa sipped at her coffee, the warm bitter flavors flooding her body with
warmth and comfort. Her head felt like it was in a vice, her mouth felt like a
deflated balloon, and light was her eternal enemy, yet her nausea wouldn’t let
her sleep through the night. For the first time in her life, Sansa didn’t even
want any sugar or cream in her coffee. She just wanted the restorative
abilities of caffeine to wipe away all her troubles.
Plus, it gave her something to do while she watched.
Mya kept fidgeting with her bangs every other sentence while Jon just listened,
standing whisper-close to her face, one arm up against the wall, his elbow
craning over both of their heads. Though she was almost the same height as Jon,
he seemed to tower over her in that moment. Mya would keep making eye contact
and then breaking it, but if she looked away for too long, Jon would say
something that made her look back up at him again. Sansa had to roll her eyes
at how cliché a picture they made, like Jon couldn’t stand for there to be any
space between them, yet needed to make his actions appear as inadvertent as
possible to keep up the seduction. It was kind of funny really.
Jon had heavy bags under his eyes from staying awake all night. Sansa, as the
host no less, had been in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours at
that point. Arya had gone to bed right after Gendry left the party.
The party well and truly ended around 1:30, when Grenn started singing about a
dancing bear and Pyp declared that waffles were needed for all. Myranda decided
to join in on waffles while Sansa decided to pass out on the couch, her head
tipping off of Jon’s shoulder when he stood up. He was grabbing his shoes when
Mya shook Sansa out of her inebriated stupor.
“Sansa! Hey, are you sober enough for questioning?”
“No,” Sansa had whined, pulling Arya’s abandoned party wig over her face.
“Sansa died three lemon shots ago. I am but a wight that would like to sleep
now.”
“Sansa please, I would never, ever do this normally, but I just know I’m going
to kick myself all night if I don’t-”
“Okay, okay what is it?”
The tone in Mya’s voice was light and panicked, and Sansa couldn’t imagine
strong-willed and stubborn-headed Mya ever being so emotionally wrought. Sansa
wiped the sleep from her eyes and rubbed the false alcoholic warmth from her
cheeks so she could focus on listening.
“What do you need?”
Mya blushed. “Is it okay if I… stay over with Jon tonight?”
“Oh sure, that’s no problem, go ahead.” Sansa was about to lie down before her
brain caught up. “Wait, what?”
“It’s really not like that, okay?” Mya’s blush somehow grew. “Look, I really
like him and nothing is going to happen, I promise you, I just want to-to keep
talking to him, okay? I’ve only ever dated Mychel… it just feels like
everything I do and think now when it comes to other men is just about
comparing stuff to him. but with Jon it feels... different.”
Sansa waited for Mya to finish before she responded. “If you like Jon, ask him
out. You have my blessing.” What else could she say?
“Thank you Sansa! I know this is weird, I feel weird asking you, but I just had
to try, you know? Jon insisted I talk to you first, but I knew you would be
cool with it.” Mya gave her a brief hug then stood up and walked over to Jon.
He was about to follow the party out the door when she gripped him by the
wrist.
She and Jon shared a few whispered words and then looked over at Sansa. Maybe
she was still drunk or maybe she was just tired… tired of thinking about Jon as
the bad guy, of always needing to be a den mother to other women, but whatever
the reason, Sansa just didn't care anymore. She shrugged without thought and
gave Jon a little wave, to show that he had her approval or whatever it was he
was looking for, and eventually Jon must have decided to believe her because
his attention went back to Mya.
Sansa passed out soon after that, so when she woke up a few hours later,
sundress crumpled up around her thighs, her hair a mess of knots and tangles,
Sansa was a bit discombobulated.
She stood up from the couch and was about to crawl into her room to lay in a
bed, when she caught sight of Mya putting her leather jacket on by the door.
Jon was dutifully holding her purse for her. Rather than interrupt or miss
anything juicy, Sansa stayed as silent as possible, slinking away to the
kitchen. The pot was full of coffee and there was a box of donuts on the table.
She was on her third jelly-filled by the time Jon closed the door, giving Mya
one last lingering goodbye kiss.
Sansa watched as Jon stood in front of the door for a few moments after that,
rubbing the back of his neck with both hands. Overnight he had changed out of
his party clothes into an outfit that felt truer to Jon’s personality as Sansa
thought of it. Jon had his glasses on instead of contacts, dark green
sweatpants, and a black t-shirt that was clearly from high school, based on the
way it practically strained across the broad expanse of his chest. The short
sleeves were barely keeping their elastic around those arms.
“So now has Mya joined the harem?” Sansa joked, though she instantly regretted
it because it was Mya. “Shit, sorry, I mean, are you two going to start seeing
each other? Like you do with Val?” If Jon respected Mya as much as he did Val,
Sansa felt confident that she could be fine with them also being intimate.
“Actually after talking out her feelings for Mychel and sex in general, and
considering the new workload she’s going to get from the Micro-Bio lab she’s
taking next semester, she agreed with my suggestion that she stay single for a
while.” Jon sat down across from Sansa, some sort of brown paper-wrapped gift
in his hand. “She said I could call her as a friend if I ever wanted to hang
out.”
Sansa couldn’t help herself. “You mean friends… like friends with benefits?”
“Not at all,” Jon shook his head. “Mya only had sex with Mychel because he
pressured her, even though she knew he liked someone else. From now on, she
only ever wants to have sex with a man who loves her and her alone, and since
we just met last night and barely know each other, we’re going to keep our
relationship from becoming physical.”
“Wait, wait, isn’t that too late?” Sansa tried to hide her blush. “What were
you two doing all night if not being physical?”
The whole morning Jon had seemed to be floating in a blissful, sluggish state,
but now his face became etched in alarm. “Nothing Sansa. I promised you I
wouldn’t sleep with any of your friends, and I meant it. We just spent the
whole night talking.”
“And kissing?” Sansa laughed.
Jon managed to blush and frown at once. “Yes, once or twice we would get caught
up and start things… but that was it. Any time it got too heated, I told Mya I
was uncomfortable and she stopped. When I was the one losing control, Mya
stopped me. We were trying to be respectful of one another.”
The room was filled with that sort of stillness that could only come from being
awake so early in the morning. It wasn’t quite night, but the day had not
started, so the world was still sitting in that perfect silence that nature
always had before the world made that first break of noise.
That’s what Sansa and Jon were waiting for ultimately. Would Sansa acknowledge
this tension between them or would Jon? What would be left when the silence was
broken? Sansa glanced over at the coffee pot, full of enough liquid energy to
keep Sansa’s head on straight for a couple hours, then at the box of donuts, a
pen mark on the side that read: Order #3, Jon (broody one).
“I’m sorry.” Sansa thought for a moment about taking it back but then
continued. “I don’t know why I keep being so mean to you Jon.”
The tension melted and Jon melted too. “You’re not being mean. You’re trying to
be a good friend to Mya.”
“By being a bad friend to you?” Sansa shook her head. “That’s not necessary.
That’s my stuff. By saying I’m doing it for Mya, I’m not treating her like an
adult, and I mean, that’s just arrogant of me considering that Mya’s even older
than you.”
Jon shrugged as he sat down, placing the brown package on the table. Sansa saw
then that it had her name written on the front.
“Age is just a number really,” Jon said before he realized how that sounded.
“Which is not- Arya and I- we need to talk about all of that. Now that you’re
sober.” He looked ready for a fight but Sansa just wasn’t feeling it anymore.
“Forget about that.” Sansa sighed. “I already talked about it with Arya.”
“Oh?” Jon paused. “She told you… everything?”
“In gruesome detail.” Sansa took another sip of her coffee, the bitter flavor
balancing well with the cloying jelly taste in her mouth. “But it was
illuminating. I won’t pretend that I understand or even necessarily approve,
but at the end of the day, if Arya is doing great in every respect except for
this one weird thing, then I can get over it.”
“Really? So, you’re fine with it now? With Arya’s…” Jon struggled with the word
for a moment before he said, “Games? Because honestly Sansa, it seemed to me
like maybe you were having a panic at-”
“I was projecting my own baggage onto Arya,” Sansa interrupted, quick to get
the focus back on her sister and a thousand leagues away from her own problems.
“I never listened to Arya when we were kids so… so even though I have problems
with you and her being together, or whatever you would call it, I’m going to
listen to her now and not interfere.”
There was silence again but this time it wasn’t as tense. She and Jon just let
her words sink in for a moment. Seeming satisfied with her answer, Jon nodded
and stood, grabbing a cup from one of their cupboards to pour himself some
coffee. He sat and took a long sip before he sagged into his chair, letting the
tension in his back melt away. It reminded Sansa of a cat, in the way that they
melted into furniture when they were relaxed.
“You know, she probably made it sound more intense than it is,” Jon explained.
“At the end of the day, as much as she says she wants me to be her first, I
don’t think it’s going to happen that way.”
“Why is that?” Sansa asked carefully, wary of this topic yet admittedly a
little eager to see where it went.
Jon smiled. It was a rare sight, one of his actual smiles that filled his whole
face with joy, but it always happened when he was talking about Arya. Or when
he was talking to her.
“Arya has herself a little boyfriend.”
Sansa had been too busy reminiscing about all the times Jon had smiled at her
to really hear the words he just said. Then they registered. Sansa flung
herself forward in her seat so hard that the edge of their table banged into
her hip.
“She does?” Sansa was so excited to gossip about her sister.
“Oh yeah. Remember Gendry from last night?”
Sansa gasped. “I do!”
”You thinks he’s a LITTLE boyfriend? The 6’4” giant who spent the whole night
hovering over Arya and called himself Bull without a hint of shame? Myranda was
making comments about his size all night…”
“Are you sure they’re dating?” Sansa asked in as measured a tone as she could
manage. “I mean, it’s clear he’s mooning over her, but they’re actually
together?”
“Arya says they aren’t,” Jon answered. “But they spend so much time together,
and when she isn’t trying to play her games with me, Arya pretty much spends
any time we have together talking about him. The signs are all there.”
Sansa was doing her most admirable work not freaking out. “How does she know
him? He’s older, isn’t he?” ”Can’t Arya just date some cute 16 year-old band
geek or something?”
“Her music teacher Mr.Yoren suggested that Arya get more practice by joining a
band. He knew some former students that needed a bassist. It’s mostly college
aged guys, and I was right there worrying with you at first, but I made sure to
meet them and they seem like a good group of misfits. They call themselves the
Brotherhood without Banners, you can look them up. She’s like the little sister
of the entire band. They all look out for her.”
“Including Gendry. What is he like 25?”
“Believe it or not… he’s only a few months older than you Sansa. And he’s from
King’s Landing originally, proper Upper Eastside-blooded family and
everything.”
Sansa knew she was gaping now. Joffrey was from that area. “Are you sure he’s
real? He looks like he was grown in a pod by a bunch of horny female
scientists.”
Jon almost spit his coffee before he managed to catch himself, so he only ended
up drooling brown liquid out of mouth and his nose and all over his lap. The
sight made Sansa laugh as well and soon they were both caught up in a burst of
the giggles. Clearly sleep-deprivation had kicked in. Every time they thought
they were done laughing, one of them would start again and they continued like
that for a while. Carelessly floating in this in between time.
“He’s giant Jon, and she’s just a little slip of a girl…” Sansa managed to gasp
between breaths of laughter. “If they ever start dating, they’re going to look
so ridiculous!”
“They’re already ridiculous,” Jon cut in. “You know that outer underwear thing
Arya wore last night? (“They’re called Spanx Jon.”) The ones with the little
hammer on it?”
“Oh gods, what about them?” Sansa questioned as she wiped away tears. “I swear
to the Crone, Arya should just have the word “Jailbait” tattooed across her
forehead.”
“No, no, Arya had a very specific scheme in mind,” Jon started, holding back
his laughter long enough to explain. “Gendry’s nickname is actually Hammer,
among the band. Something about the way he hammers a guitar? I don’t know. Only
Arya calls him Bull. She sewed that hammer on herself because she wanted him to
see it, all so she could watch for a reaction. Because that's how Arya deals
with her emotions I guess. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about M.C.
Hammer reference, or that Gendry already notices her all the time.”
That made Sansa’s laughter pause.
“Oh no Jon…”
“What is it?”
“It totally backfired,” Sansa continued. “All night Gendry was Arya’s shadow,
but the moment I pointed out Arya’s spanx, he left the party without a word.
Arya was asking where he went all night and... I was drunk and wasn't thinking
so I finally snapped and told her… I told her he found her clothing offensive.”
“Oh…” Jon’s smile died along with Sansa’s. “Well. I'm sure she didn't take you
too seriously.”
“I meant it as a joke! I didn’t know they were… I mean he did leave so I
thought maybe it was true… I mean Arya didn’t say anything about having a crush
on him.”
“Well, Arya doesn’t know Gendry is already a goner for her.” Jon reached over
and rubbed her shoulder, such a male way of trying to cheer someone up. “So no
harm there. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
The mood having been sufficiently deflated, Jon and Sansa sat in silence again.
It was sort of sad but also stirring. The moment of fun was over but now she
and Jon had shared something, a moment of understanding that existed outside of
their previous relationship. Arya was the single most important person in the
world to both of them… and for the first time, Sansa felt how that bonded her
and Jon.
Jon seemed to remember what he was holding then and offered it up to her. The
return address listed New York.
“Mya noticed this on our mat. Might be a birthday present from Catelyn? Or a
college friend?”
“Maybe.”
Jon stood up and mumbled something about changing his pants while Sansa
carefully untied the twine tying off the wrapping paper. It was rough and
sloppily assembled, almost like the person had packed it in a rush. When the
paper was opening, at first Sansa thought there was nothing inside but a flat
piece of cardboard that helped it keep its square shape. Then she saw the peak
of something inside.
She gripped it lightly between her forefinger and her thumb, sliding an
envelope out from the mess of wrapping. It was white and unsealed, the flap
simply folded in to keep it closed, a rubber band wrapped around the middle. It
looked like an ordinary envelope that you might get from an office.
“Is that blood?”
She started at Jon’s voice, having forgotten that he was there for a moment.
Jon had gone to his room and changed at some point while she opened the
package, now wearing black basketball shorts, a red tank top in his hands that
he hadn’t had a chance to put on yet. Sansa turned the envelope over to see
what Jon had; a large mahogany brown splotch. It was indeed blood.
“Sansa, who is that from?”
“I don’t know Jon, there’s no name on the return address.” Sansa waved his hand
away from snatching at her. “It was sent to me, let me look.”
She pulled the flap out and was greeted by the sight of money. Green bills set
in a tight line, obviously packed together by a machine, though a few bills on
one end looked frayed and damaged. Money that had been added by hand to the
pile later. Sansa pressed her thumb inside to lift the corner up and see the
first bill. She was greeted by the sight of Septon Barth, former Hand of the
King of Westeros, and the face of the $100.00-dollar bill.
“This is my money…” Sansa muttered, her confusion growing as much as her fear.
“What? Sansa, how do you know it’s yours?”
She pulled the pile out and fanned it across the table. “This is $7,214.00.”
She closed her eyes in thought.
“It’s every penny I ever saved from every birthday check, weekly allowance,
cash prizes from every mall beauty contest mother entered me into. Every dime I
found on the ground and quarter I pulled from the couch, this was all the money
I had in the world that mom and dad didn’t just give to me. This was my
independence.”
Sansa picked up a few of the bills that had clearly faced harsher treatment.
The rest had come from a bank. Clean, brand new bills from her local bank in
King’s Landing. She smelled one of the wrinkled 20s and detected alcohol,
sweat, and the sadly familiar odor of body butter that many Flea Bottom
strippers liked to use. Joffrey always smelled that way and Sansa had never
known why, until the end.
“Sansa, I’m confused. Who sent you this?”
She couldn’t help it. She told herself that she wasn’t that girl anymore. That
weak, stupid child who got emotional and let the pain get the best of her. She
was supposed to be brave like father, strong like Robb, a Stark who brought
honor to being a Stark. Her mother was strong. Arya was strong. Sansa just
wanted to be strong too. Just once.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks anyway. Her body bucked forward in a sob. She
felt like she was doing that a lot recently. Jon gathered her up into a hug and
Sansa clawed into him. She rubbed her face against his shoulder because it was
there and it was solid and her instinct was to stay close to someone. To be
safe.
“Sansa?”
“Sandor. His name is Sandor Clegane,” Sansa hiccupped. “He sent it. I gave him
the money to do something… and now he’s sent it back to me. Meaning he didn’t
do it.”
“Why did you give him all of your money?” Jon asked, slowly petting her hair.
It felt kind of weird but also soothed her a bit.
“Because I wanted him… I wanted him to kill someone.” Jon’s grip tightened. “I
wanted him to kill Petyr Baelish.”
*****
9:32 A.M.
By the end of her first semester, Sansa was just done.
She was finally done with Joffrey’s cheating. She was finally done competing
with Margaery. And she was finally willing to admit that some of those so-
called sluts, as Sansa had called them, were in truth the victims of her
creepy, cheating, online stalker of a boyfriend. She’d had enough. One semester
of almost failing all her classes and finding out that all her friends were
liars or sellouts was enough misery for Sansa to get the message. Robb was
right. Father was right. Even fucking Arya was right.
It was time for Sansa to return to Winterfell.
But the day Sansa called her mom to talk about all of it, Joffrey, Margaery,
her classes, was the same day that Robb lost the company. For the first time in
Sansa’s life, she couldn’t get her mother’s attention. Catelyn Stark had always
made herself available for her children as a lifeline, a safety net, a warm
hug. When the days became too hard or the exams too stressful, Sansa always
called her mother.
Except every call was going to voicemail and every text was answered with an
auto-generated “We’ll Talk Later” or “Call Uncle Brynden.” Sansa got the point
after a while.
She was still planning to leave King’s Landing for good though. She would just
drop in on mother as a surprise at home, but she had wanted to make one last
stop before she left the city behind her forever.
Petyr’s house.
When Sansa had first started having her doubts about Joffrey, Petyr was the
only one who listened. When she told him that she wanted proof of Joff’s
cheating, he had provided her with the number for Private Detective Dontos. He
was a drunk and he always stared at her tits, but he was good at what he did.
He found every single one of Joff’s little hidey holes.
And when she wanted to know how it started, how long Joff had been this way,
Petyr was the one who emailed her the files he had hacked from Joffrey’s
smartphone. Hundreds of sexts and emails and receipts for dating websites, some
of which were basically just expensive escort services. She and Petyr had sat
down and read every single one, together. A few times she asked if they could
stop, but he was very insistent that she see every single perversion, so she
could completely understand who her boyfriend was. That’s what he said anyway.
When he tried showing her Joff’s secret journal, marked in a “Hidden” folder,
she’d had to stop. All the girls in the pictures were unconscious and Sansa was
worried there would be one of her in there. She didn’t want to see that. Or
Petyr to see that.
She had come so close to marrying a monster, had been spared from making the
worst mistake of her life, that it only felt right that she show her gratitude.
Besides, Petyr had encouraged her design work. Even mother couldn’t help but
insist she focus on Marketing instead. He just had… something charming about
the way he spoke to her. Petyr made her smile.
Afterwards, when she was crying in his shower, wondering what had happened to
her and why her life had come to this point, she vowed that she would always
remember this as the moment when the song of her life ended. The fairytale
childhood that her father had given her, the strength and lessons her mother
had tried to teach her; it all just amounted to blood and tears, and even that
was washed away down Petyr’s shower drain.
She wasn’t even surprised when he turned on her. When Sansa asked that they
never do such a thing again, Petyr became insulted, nagging. He accused her of
seducing him and using him to get back at her boyfriend. Sansa apologized so he
would just let her leave. As she walked down his driveway, he reminded her how
he would be having tea with her mother in a few days, to go over their family’s
holdings in the Riverlands.
She got the fucking hint at that point.
“Sandor Clegane was one of Joffrey’s men, and I mean men like you imagine. Like
a hired goon from the movies. Even though Joff was just a rich prep kid with
mommy issues, he had to use his money to get involved with drug dealers,
prostitutes, whatever made him feel strong.” Sansa still remembered how Sandor
would always call her “Little Bird,” first as an insult, but then later…
“He’s gone now,” Jon whispered, urging her to continue.
“Sandor protected Joff from the really bad people,” Sansa went on. “He
protected me from Joffrey sometimes too. He never did anything heroic. Just…
always reminded Joffrey that he would quit if he had to help cover up a
murder.”
“Fucking hells, Sansa…”
Jon’s grip tightened around her again, the bicep of his left arm pushing over
her chin and onto her lips. One of her arms was trapped under Jon’s back,
slowly losing blood as her fingers dangled over the nape of his hair. The other
arm was lying across Jon’s chest, her forearm under his nipple, her hand spread
open against his stomach. She dragged a finger up Jon’s chest and then tapped
it against his arm to indicate he loosen.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed. She tangled her legs with his to make herself more
comfortable again.
“Sandor had a code. That’s why I thought he might do it. Even though Joff and I
were done, I still had Sandor’s cell for emergencies. I called him and we met
up in my car, gave him the money, Petyr’s address, and told him to do what he
did best.
“I… became a murderer…”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Jon-”
“Sansa, take it from someone who has actually killed a person, your hands are
clean.”
It was the same conversational dance they’d been having for hours. When Sansa
first started crying at the kitchen table, there was no stopping it. Jon tried
to talk to her but she couldn’t be consoled. She didn’t want to be consoled.
She didn’t deserve it. Eventually Jon settled for just hugging her. As his arms
wrapped around her sides, Sansa thought she would freak out and see Petyr
again, Joffrey, Sandor, something that would frighten her and take her away
from this moment. It seemed that men always found a way to make her feel that
way.
Instead it was just Jon. He was crying too she realized. She pressed her hands
against his shoulders and Jon moved to wipe them away but Sansa saw. The tears
that he had shed for her, that he felt for himself. She realized that Jon was
in just as much agony as her, though for distinct reasons. She was sure of it.
Pain tended to draw other people in pain. Sansa knew that now too, because of
Mya. Because of Arya.
It was just instinct on her part. She’d reached her finger up and wiped away
one of Jon’s tears, her fingernail dancing softly across his cheek. Her hand
went around his neck.
Then she kissed him.
A fire awoke inside her at that kiss, a roaring pillar of flame that engulfed
everything around it and salted the earth behind it. It allowed for nothing but
the rushing ache that exploded from her lips as they touched Jon’s, the
compounded desire of the past month causing a thigh-quivering, volcanic
eruption in her brain. The sensation went down her neck and into her chest,
making her nipples suddenly tight and painful before it eventually became
stimulating. That buzz lingered as heat travelled down from Jon’s tongue
between her lips and back into her throat, falling deeper and deeper into her
belly until it was even deeper than that.
She supposed it was an old dress. She had worn it for years, even let out it’s
bust when her breasts started coming in more. Maybe that had… compromised the
integrity of the stitching. It wasn’t designer or anything. Just a Sears dress.
Something her father had bought her for a Sunday Business function or some
small thing.
So it wasn’t a big loss when Jon gripped the sleeve and pulled, the entire left
side coming apart in tatters as he lowered his lips to the newly exposed skin
near her armpit. Sansa gasped but it quickly became a moan as Jon cupped her
ass on the other side of the dress, the scraps only hanging onto Sansa’s side
because of Jon’s arm wrapped around her hip.
“Sansa, I never stop thinking about you…”
“Stop talking.”
Sansa took Jon by the ears and pulled him back to her lips, shedding the rest
of her destroyed dress and about to undo her bra when she stopped.
Because Jon was stepping back from her.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Jon said with as much decency and character one man
can muster when he was that hard. “You’re very emotional and I don’t want to
take advantage of you.”
Sansa nodded at his words. Looking at Jon, hunched over and trying to hide his
erection from her… for her… it demystified him a little bit in her eyes. Last
night she had wanted to retreat into weed to get away from her problems. It
seemed today she had wanted to try a taste of Stupid, Sexy Jon Snow. Except Jon
really was the good guy she had hoped and was trying to do the gentlemanly
thing, even now. That was what she wanted in the end she supposed.
“You’re right…” Sansa panted, reaching her hands up to cover her bra. “That way
only leads to more complications.”
“Exactly,” Jon nodded. “I’m here if you need to talk… but just to talk.”
“Yes, I would like to talk,” Sansa agreed, surprised more than anyone that she
felt like she meant it. “Except… let’s not make this awkward. If we try to sit
at the table or… I don’t know, sit on opposite sides of the apartment, it’ll
seem too much like we’re trying to avoid each other. It’ll be all awkward.”
“What do we do then?” Jon asked, covering up the way he adjusted himself by
clearing his throat.
“We’re attracted to one another, that’s agonizingly clear, but we can be adults
about it. So… what would you do right now with one of your friends?”
“My friends?” Jon raised an eyebrow.
“Your female friends.” ”Like Zei maybe.”
So, Jon had laid back on the couch, awkwardly placing his body at an angle so
he could lie completely flat across the sectional. Sansa got the idea quickly
and laid on her side next to Jon, facing his chest. At first, they waited like
that, his arms up above his head and hers in front of her covering her bits,
but at one point or another he wrapped one arm around her back and she did the
same. Sansa still fidgeted for a while before she found the right place along
Jon’s clavicle to lay her head.
He was better than a pillow. He was a living, breathing teddy bear. Sansa felt
more comfortable than she’d remembered in a good long while. And just like
that, she followed the feeling and let the memories just spill out.
She felt exhausted after talking for so long.
“Sandor took the money and said it would get done. I had nightmares about it
all the time. I thought I would see something in the news, but I never did.”
Sansa ran her finger around Jon’s navel, dipping down to feel the crease
between his abdominals and his hips.
“Hey, that tickles,” Jon complained without any conviction. “How do you know
sending the money back means he didn’t do it? Maybe he means to do it for
free.”
“No, I’m sure. It’s just… how he would communicate.” Sansa moved her hand away
from Jon’s fascinating waistline and tapped his chin with her finger. “And hey,
aren’t you going to be a cop or whatever one day? That shouldn’t be your
response to my murder confession. You should be arresting me!”
Jon laughed and caught her hand in front of his face, trapping it to his chest.
If Sansa threw her whole body-weight into it she could probably free her hand,
but on arm strength alone Jon had her completely ensnared. She was fine with
that feeling though.
“Honestly Sansa, knowing what he did, what he continues to do to you… I’m
thinking about killing Baelish myself.”
Sansa rolled her eyes and then her head, taking Jon’s nipple in her mouth and
gnawing it lightly. It was a strange impulse, but then lying half-naked with
Jon in their living room was a strange impule and that had gone over
swimmingly.
Jon yelped and let her go, freeing Sansa to sit up for the first time in hours,
leaning her weight on the hand that was under Jon while she used her other hand
to pin him down by the shoulder. Now she was on top. Sansa found it was to her
liking.
“I’m glad Sandor isn’t going to do it. I pray that whatever rage is inside him
becomes gentle. I don’t want him to kill anyone, let alone on my order.” Sansa
avoided Jon’s eyes then. “You know all the tabloids say that’s exactly what
mother did to Walder Frey.”
Jon had the grace to pretend he was shocked. “Whatever they’re saying, you
believe Robb first.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa shook her head. “I’m just glad that I didn’t make
such a terrible mistake. Petyr needs the Stark/Stag accounts. He won’t
jeopardize anything. If I just stay away, he won’t be able to cause any
trouble. Killing him was just about-”
She was kidding herself about the pinning Jon idea. He shot up like a bullet
and onto his knees, placing himself behind Sansa and wrapping around her. His
naked chest was hugging her back, the skin of his stomach inflaming the skin
along her spine. It was warm and sweet and Jon smelled like sweat in a manly
way that Sansa couldn’t help but like.
Is this what all these girls were so drawn to? Sansa could understand why. Jon
Snow might be well-known for his sexual abilities but he was a god when it came
to cuddling.
Sansa’s thoughts were interrupted when Jon abruptly laid back, fell back
actually, making Sansa yelp as her world flipped over and the wind got knocked
out of her. She slammed into Jon’s chest, sinking back into his skin and his
warmth. His power.
“Careful, I’m too heavy,” Sansa whined.
“Sweetling, you’re like a feather to me. I could toss you around with one arm
most likely.”
In this new position, Sansa realized how wet she was.
“None of the stuff that happened to you matters, okay?” Jon continued,
unknowing of the storm brewing in Sansa’s mind. “The past is behind you. You’re
looking forward now. All we can ever do is look forward.”
Sansa focused on that so as not to focus on the growing heat between her legs.
“Yeah well, what is that even? Taking classes at a school that doesn’t
challenge me? All because I get to practice my sewing while making costumes for
their no budget theater department?”
“I thought you liked your classes.”
“I do, I just… I remember when I was in the fashion capital of Westeros, being
surrounded by the designers who inspired me when I was Bran’s age. I guess I
forgot the things I was giving up by coming here.” Sansa chuckled. “Plus I
wasn’t prepared to become Jon Snow’s sexual arbiter.”
“Oh, come on,” Jon hooted, his whole body shaking and his stomach vibrating
against Sansa’s spine.
“I did not invite you here to help me with Arya, if that’s what you think.”
“No? Then what was it?” Sansa sat up and tussled her hair, trying to remember a
time when she and Jeyne Poole would listen to boy bands and make sexy faces in
her mirror. “Did you want to finally seduce me and complete the full sexy Stark
sister set?”
Jon was unmoved. “No, I did it for Arya.”
Sansa blew an errant lock of oh-so-sexily-messed-up hair out of her face.
“Wait, for Arya? How does my being here help you with Arya?”
“It’s not to help me with Arya, it’s to help Arya.” Jon sighed. “I see her
becoming too much like me every day.”
“Like you?” Sansa thought for a moment. “Like sex-crazed?”
Jon chuckled. “Maybe. But more like… not gentle. Cool. Detached. Lonely.”
“Lonely?”
“Every girl needs another girl to show them the way,” Jon went on, ignoring
Sansa’s question. “I care about Arya, but at the end of the day, she needs
someone else who can help her with feminine stuff. Stuff I have no clue about.
She needs you Sansa. She needs her sister.”
“She has Val,” Sansa’s voice was flat. “I mean, Arya’s basically becoming a
miniature version of her. Loudly feminist, brazenly sexual, and so fucking
arrogant in her goddamn natural beauty.”
Sansa’s tone must have sounded harsher than she thought because Jon looked
distressed by her words.
“Val has helped me with Arya a lot, and Arya does look up to her it’s true, but
that doesn’t make her a sister. To have a relationship like that…” Jon looked
heartbroken then. It was strange.
Sansa brushed her hand over his cheek and like before, his eyes fluttered at
her touch.
“What do you mean?”
“Val is like me…” Jon whispered. “She’s hollowed out inside.”
“What?” Sansa pushed herself up along Jon’s chest to hear more of what he was
saying, her lips next to his as she lowered her weight down on his legs… her
mound rubbing on his-
“Holy. Shit.”
Sansa and Jon jumped apart. Sansa sat up on her hands and knees while Jon
managed to do a sit-up thing that curled all his muscles into a fist, primed
and ready to pounce.
Though thoughts like that quickly disappeared from Sansa’s mind when she saw
Arya.
And boy had Arya outdone herself this time.
At first Sansa thought her sister was wearing some sort of tight, grey,
sleeveless halter-top until she looked more closely. It was something Sansa had
never seen before in real life, almost like a grey one piece bathing suit but
clearly not water-proof. It was made of some sort of shiny, cotton material
that it looked oh-so-tempting to the touch and probably amazingly soft on
Arya's skin. Though it was so tight that Sansa had to wonder how Arya even got
the thing on. There was a trendy ladder-cut on the sides to expose some extra
skin, and Arya had decided to forego pants to complete the look, letting her
ass hang out of the bottom with no shame. Though Arya did wear knee-length,
blue and white striped socks, almost feigning the image of pants, Sansa knew
girls only wore socks that high for a very specific purpose.
The material did nothing to hide Arya’s hardened nipples. If anything it made
her nipples draw the eye more. There was an oval cut over the bellybutton too,
a little wink of skin, which solidified in Sansa’s mind that this thing was not
designed for athletics in mind.
Arya was stunned by the sight of them. They were stunned by the sight of her.
Sansa was the one to break the silence.
“Fuck you Arya, are you kidding me? You don’t have a single stretch mark on
your goddamn hips? On your thighs?”
“Wha-what?” Arya looked frustrated but also curious.
Sansa kicked her leg up and pointed at three small lines near her groin.
“These. They’re called stretch marks. One day you’ll get them too and I’ll
laugh at you.”
“I don’t- what are you two doing?” Arya asked, avoiding the bait.
“Cuddling,” Sansa answered before Jon could sputter a response. “I was getting
emotional over some personal stuff and Jon was comforting me.”
“Naked cuddling?” Arya giggled.
Sansa was still in her matching purple bra and underwear set that she’d
specifically worn to feel on point in that way that only matching underwear
could make you feel, even though she hadn’t planned on anyone seeing it. Jon
was in just his underwear. ”Wait, when did he take off his running shorts?”
“Oh yeah? Well what were you planning with that get up?” Sansa gestured her
head up and down at Arya’s outfit.
She seemed to have forgotten she was wearing it, but the moment she was
reminded, Arya changed her posture. She lifted one foot up to emphasize her
legs and straightened out her back to try and make her chest stick out more,
running her fingers through her hair and over her neck. Arya was very visibly
trying her utmost to look sexy… unaware that her natural presence did all that
work for her.
“Well, I figured since you know about me and Jon now, we would… get a little
cozy this morning.”
“You snooze you lose,” A stranger spoke with Sansa’s voice.
She followed that up by laying her head on Jon’s chest and embracing him,
pressing her nose down into his neck as hard as she could as his beard
scratched against her ear. She split her legs over one of his, her arms rubbing
down along his sides. She could hear his breath racing.
“What is happening right now?” Arya laughed. “Is this real life? Sansa Stark,
getting fresh with her brother right in front of me?”
“Hey, be nice to her,” Jon scolded, threading his fingers into Sansa’s hair to
make sure her body stayed glued to his even as he sat up. It bent her spine in
a weird, a toe-curling way.
“Oh, you take her side now Jon? I wonder why.” Arya’s face was filled with evil
intent.
But it was child’s play to the evil smirk Jon had.
“Sansa, did you know Arya is on the cheerleading team at her school?” Jon spoke
as if Arya wasn’t there. “That’s how she stays so fit, and why she seems to eat
everything in sight and not gain a pound. Arya isn’t hanging out with her
friends at the arcade after school. The team has practice every day at 4.”
And just like that, the monster was vanquished, leaving only an incensed Arya.
Her face was blank, then hurt, then red.
“FUCKING FUCK JON!! THAT WAS THE ONLY THING I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL SANSA!!”
Whatever sexy and alluring effect Arya had accomplished was vanishing by the
second. Sansa’s little sister scrunched up her shoulders and stomped her foot
like a right, proper 3-year old, screaming at the top of her lungs. Jon
eventually had to leave Sansa, if only to keep Arya from waking the entire
city. He walked over carefully but assured, saying comforting words and
soothing the infuriated little sexpot by rubbing her shoulders like she always
liked.
But Arya was immune to his efforts for once. When she threw Jon’s arms off her
shoulders, he said something in protest that she ignored. Jon was still smiling
at her willfulness so he pinched her butt, the left cheek having peaked out
from the bottom of her suit.
“Hey! I didn’t say you could touch my butt you fucking perv!”
“I couldn’t help it,” Jon chuckled. This carefree and playful side of Jon
intrigued Sansa even more, and Jon was already ceaselessly intriguing.
Arya pushed at Jon’s chest but he only laughed as she sent herself sliding back
along the floor, her socks causing her to lose all friction. She did it a
second time, keeping her footing more stable, so Jon just tickled her ribs.
Arya punched him in the face.
It was just a quick right hook to Jon’s cheek, just like Robb had taught Sansa
before she started high school, but it seemed so much more violent. Sansa
gasped. Arya did too. Jon appeared paralyzed by what had happened, standing
still as a statue. It seemed… a bit over the top honestly. Arya hadn’t hit him
that hard.
“Arya, apologize to Jon, right now. That was not okay,” Sansa said in her most
Catelyn Stark-like voice, the sexy time clearly over. “Jon, I apologize for
Arya acting like a real brat and forgetting her… manners…”
Jon was still frozen, like his brain was still deciding on his reaction and
needed to make a hard reboot first. He pressed a hand to his cheek, checking
the feeling there. It was surreal. Arya acted strangely too. She just stared at
Jon with a sort of horror… way more fear than was necessary actually. It
reminded Sansa of bad horror movies, when the scantily clad heroine was waiting
for her cue to scream from the director.
“I-I’m so sorry Jon…” Arya mewled, her fingers nervously pulling the back of
her suit down over her bottom as she bounced back and forth on her heels. “I
mean it, really…”
“No you don’t.” Jon growled.
His arm shot out and gripped Arya by the throat, causing her to gasp and cough.
At first Arya was whining, a sort of pitiful, fearful sound… but slowly her
voice became more insistent. More needful. Arya didn’t even try to stop Jon
from choking her, didn’t try to touch his hands at all. She was surrendering,
her arms down by her sides. It was a strange and enticing look on typically
willful Arya.
Jon just held her there, one hand on her throat and the other moving slowly up
her chest. Arya started pulling on the back of her suit again, like she was
afraid she would get a wedgie at any moment and show her bits off to the room.
That’s when Sansa realized what was happening.
Arya was pulling on the bottom of her suit to keep it from getting too wet.
“You’re right, I don’t mean it,” she croaked. “I’ve been so bad Jon… so
naughty.”
“I agree.” Jon’s voice sounded terrifying now, yet Arya grinned at the sound.
“You need to be punished.”
Arya’s grin vanished (and yet…)
Jon let go of Arya's throat, letting her gasp a big moutful of air before he
gripped her by the hair, a good thick fistful that made Arya groan in pain as
he dragged her over to the couch. Sansa freaked out for a moment, thinking that
Jon was going to grab her hair too, but instead he sat down on the couch, near
to Sansa’s feet. Jon then forced Arya to her knees, then facedown on the coffee
table, their cups of cold and forgotten coffee clanging softly as Arya’s cheek
was pressed down into the finished wood. Arya was trying to use the table to
push away with her arms, but after one try where she almost scrambled up to her
feet, Jon ruthlessly kicked the back of Arya's knee, dropping her back down to
where he wanted her. His arm shook for a while as she kicked and shimmied but
after a few minutes of struggle, Arya gave up the fight.
Only then, when Arya was no longer squirming, did Jon press the palm of his
other hand on Arya’s stomach, right over her bellybutton, lifting. Arya was
made to keep her legs straight and locked together, her face still held down by
Jon’s hand. Her body was now bent in a 90 degree angle over the table, and
Sansa was once again struck by her sister’s flexibility.
Jon switched his hands then, keeping his right around Arya’s neck so she stayed
glued to the table, while his left hand was now free to roam behind her back.
Sansa realized that doing it this way shielded her from seeing the action, so
she moved to Arya’s other side for a front row seat. Arya was sticking her
bottom straight up in the air, wiggling it around as much as her little hips
could manage, the straining fabric of her bodysuit pulling tightly on her sex,
right next Jon’s cheek.
He gave her ass a soft little kiss on one cheek before he reared a hand back.
“Just ten, okay?”
“Please no, I’m sorry Jon-”--
SMACK!
Sansa gasped.
“Fuuuu….” Arya groaned.
“One,” Jon rumbled.
SMACK!
Sansa moaned.
“Owowowowow…”
“Two.”
SMACK!
Sansa was cupping her breast now, squeezing.
“Fucking shit, shit fucking…”
“Three.“
“Fuck you, you asshole…” Arya interrupted the pattern, her fingers and arms
flexing as she tried pushing up again only for Jon to change his grip on Arya’s
short hair and then thump her cheek right back down on the table. Now Sansa
could look into Arya's eyes. There was no fear there.
“Call me a name again, and it will be twenty smacks. I mean it.” Jon’s tone
softened then. “Now say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” Arya purred.
“Sir.”
“I’m not calling you sir, you arrogant shit head.”
“So that’s twenty more.”
“Do it you fucking baby-dicked asshole.” Arya was laughing now.
“So fifty it is then.”
“You’ll need at least fifty if you want me to actually feel anyth- agGGGGHH!!!”
Jon’s arm was pumping in a vicious fury then, spanking Arya’s ass in a bout of
cruelty that looked simultaneously violent, powerful, and amazingly erotic.
After every smack Arya’s little butt cheeks would flutter and singe with a
white handprint that would disappear in a sea of pinker and pinker skin. Jon’s
arm muscles strained and shook as he dominated little Arya, her legs kicking
and hips wiggling the whole time.
After every hit, Arya would swear or shout something, but her protests got
progressively weaker. Her frantic “escape attempts” looked pathetically
fruitless under Jon’s enormous force of will. If anything, all her movements
just made sure that Jon hit every part of her bottom. Not a bit of her ass
wasn’t going unpunished. Jon was going to break Arya’s will.
Soon the spanking became so rapid, so intense, that for a moment the coffee
table shifted across the floor. Jon paused at that, sheepishly checking that
nothing had dislodged or broken. Spilled coffee was running like blood under
Arya’s belly, making the table look like the scene of a brutal murder, Arya’s
beautiful corpse tossed away like a puppet with its strings cut. Her face was
dazed, her eyes almost crossed, and her hair was matted to her forehead from
the sweat while other strands stuck to her cheek from drool.
“You call that a spanking pussy?” Arya taunted. Sansa’s stomach dropped in fear
and exultation. Jon sneered.
Those were Arya’s last words before the screaming began. Just screaming and
nothing else. It went on for four minutes, Sansa had been eyeing the clock. Jon
somehow never slowed, never drained. If anything, he went even harder than
before, based purely on the volume of Arya’s voice. She was hoarse toward the
end, tears running down her cheeks, pooling together with her drool.
Sansa had to wrap her arms around her legs and sit on her hands, otherwise she
would start rubbing herself right here in front of them.
Eventually, blessedly, Jon was finished. His arm looked leaden and heavy, and
Arya was finally silent, maybe even unconscious. Her legs no longer supported
her ass so Jon let her body tip over off the table and crumple into a shivering
heap, the only signs of life Arya's heavy breathing. Arya reached both her arms
between her legs to rub the skin on her ass, shuddering in pain before she
smiled, another tear falling down her cheek. She looked almost drunk.
"You okay? You didn't say the safe word so I assumed..."
"Yeah, you did great," Arya sighed. "Just the right amount of pressure. Thanks
for holding back near the end. I know that's hard for you."
Sansa moaned at that but didn't think either of them heard her.
Jon nodded before collapsed himself, sitting on the floor next to the table,
panting like he'd just run a marathon. Beads of sweat were running down his
neck and chest. He looked like a man who had done a job well. He started reach
into his shorts and touch himself before he seemed to remember that Sansa was
sitting three feet away.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, stopping his motions.
“Don’t be,” Arya answered, thinking Jon was speaking to her.
Arya admirably found the strength to stand up. Her hair was all bunched up to
one side where Jon had taken hold of her, and her ass was still an alarming red
color, but Sansa could also see it. The sun had started to come in from
outside, so it was shining against the beads of wetness that were running down
Arya’s thighs. The rivulets of fluid almost reached her knees.
“Gods, I haven’t cum like that since you spanked me the first time. My 17th
birthday, remember?”
“I remember,” Jon grunted, his elbows on his knees as he rested his forehead on
his forearms. “You got drunk with those Bravos and kept saying that 17 was the
age of consent in Essos, so what was the difference if we just did it now. The
only way I could get you to stop begging me was by spanking you.”
“And I’ve been chasing that high ever since,” Arya giggled.
“Gods, you two are so weird,” Sansa cut in, clearing the heavy desire in her
throat. “I mean, I like a nice, brisk spanking to start the day as much as the
next red-blooded girl, but that was way overboard.”
Jon and Arya looked at her, as if they couldn’t believe she hadn’t left the
room already.
“Brisk spanking?” Jon chuckled.
Arya giggled too but then hissed as she rubbed her bottom some more. Then she
pulled her hand away to find it wet. Like too wet. She glanced down at the
coffee table and gasped in surprise.
“Fuck Jon, look at this mess!” Arya’s tone had shifted from pleasantly
lethargic to annoyed once she saw the coffee stains all up and down the front
of her bodysuit, dripping down her thighs and mixing in with the stains of her
arousal. “I really like this outfit. It’s the only sexy underwear I’ve ever
considered buying and you got it all covered in coffee! You know I hate coffee
smell!”
“I’m sorry Arya.” Jon began to sit up. “Why don’t you toss it into the wash and
take a shower-”
“No,” Arya held a finger to Jon’s lips, keeping him from standing and then
drawing his eyes to her thighs.
“You have to lick it all off. It’s only fair.”
“What? Arya, you’re getting greedy,” Jon frowned. “I’m not gonna-”
“Jon.” Sansa placed a hand on his shoulder, turning his face to hers as she got
to her knees and sat back on her heels. For the first time, Jon’s eyes did that
guy thing where they yo-yoed down to her chest in her nice, brand-new push-up
bra before going back up to her eyes again. Apparently Jon had noticed, he was
just being polite before.
“I know Arya had to be punished, that was fine.” Sansa gave her sister a look.
“But you got coffee all over her adorable little outfit. It’s only fair that
you be punished now too. You chose spanking for Arya. She chose licking for
you.”
They stared at Sansa for the longest time but Jon snapped out of it first.
He gripped Arya by the ass, causing Arya to hiss again, and yanked her off her
feet. Arya made a similar "oof" to Sansa when he palmed the back of her thighs
and wrapped her legs around his back. This time when Jon lowered Arya to the
table, he laid her down carefully while supporting her spine, his other hand
open above her chest to keep her balanced. He was gentle and supportive.
Loving. Arya looked somehow more scared of this than the spanking.
When he pulled back and unlaced Arya’s legs from his hips, he yanked her toward
him by the ankles, sliding her back along the table like fingers through silk.
Arya’s pelvis was right on Jon’s chest like that.
Jon had grabbed himself a little early morning snack it seemed.
He leaned forward and took his first lick right out of the hole over Arya’s
bellybutton, making a loud, perverse slurping noise there. Sansa thought of
body shots and almost wanted to grab some chocolate sauce or something, but she
was too focused on the show. When Arya sat up and tried to say something, Jon
lifted his hands up under her knees and placed them on his shoulders, forcing
Arya to lie back. Arya’s pelvis was lifting slightly off the table as Jon
straightened his back, her lower body weight now completely supported by his
shoulders. Arya’s lip was trembling and her hands were shaking.
"Jon..." she mewled softly.
“Stay very… very… still…” he whispered from between Arya’s legs before dipping
down.
“Oh- okay.”
Arya shuddered, tipping her head back so hard that she bowed her spine, her
eyes quickly looking for anything to focus on but Jon’s head between her
thighs, his fingers snaking under her suit and gripping her ass so hard that
her asscheeks were being forced apart by the tension.
He started by flattening his tongue where Arya’s leg joined her hip, washing
over a tan line so much that Arya seemed more tickled than turned on by it at
first. Then he lifted the elastic that held the suit around Arya’s left leg and
snaked his tongue under there. There was a delightful sound every time he
lifted the fabric up, fluttered his tongue around, then let it snap back down
onto Arya’s skin, causing her to hiss. Then he got the right leg. Then he
repeated the whole thing to be safe.
Jon eventually gripped Arya behind the knee again, folding one leg into her
chest so he could run his tongue right on Arya's still steamy cheeks, nuzzling
the spot there. He trailed wet, open mouthed-kisses up and down her thigh,
until his beard was inches away from Arya’s dripping center. All Jon would have
to do was move that sliver of darkening grey fabric aside and he would be able
to ram his tongue into Arya’s slit like she so clearly wanted. Or maybe he
could just softly lick her perineum, that’s how Sansa liked it. The fabric was
getting so wet, he might be able to just tear the bottom out like he had done
to Sansa’s sundress earlier.
Instead Jon moved up, licking the fabric under Arya’s stomach and sucking on
the coffee spots. It started to become somewhat tame from there though, as Jon
was no longer licking Arya’s skin but the fabric of her suit. Arya squirmed
whenever he snuck his fingers under the fabric to lift it up, but that was it.
She started running her hands through Jon’s hair to egg him on, pushing his
face back to her center but Jon wouldn’t move.
He did only as promised. He licked up as much of the coffee as he possibly
could and didn’t let his tongue get anywhere near Arya’s increasingly sodden
opening.
Sansa shared Arya’s disappointment when he stood and declared himself finished.
"Fuck, that was so much more intense than I imagined..." Arya slurred. "You
didn't even go down on me really. Are you really done?"
“The punishment is over,” Jon nodded.
“It’s not over at all.” Sansa said, moving closer to Jon while Arya was still
gasping on the coffee table. “Arya’s only come the once-”
“-and I was really close to a second.” Arya announced. “Or maybe, I don’t know.
It was so much teasing… so much ‘not-touching’… I feel like I came through my
skin or something.”
“Fine then, you’ve given her two and you’ve not had one yourself…” Sansa
brushed her hand over Jon’s visibly throbbing hardness.
She wanted to taste it.
“Sansa, I-I-”
A knock came at the door. “Hey it’s Val! I just got off my shift! You're not
all hungover are ya?”
They all froze and stared at each other. Arya was still lying on the coffee
table, her legs spread out in the same lewd position that Jon had left them,
though now she was leaning on one elbow to glance at Jon. Jon was staring at
the door, one hand around Sansa’s shoulder while the other was on her hip.
Sansa’s hand was still on Jon’s underwear. It felt warm and pleasantly… heavy.
She snatched it away.
“We should stop,” Jon said.
“Right,” Sansa nodded. “But like… why again?” She genuinely couldn’t remember.
“This is how it goes,” Arya explained, standing up on shaky knees. “Jon is all
charged up, and now Val’s gonna take care of him.”
“But I-I thought...” Sansa wasn’t sure what she was going to say next.
“Arya, Val doesn't come over as much for exactly that reason,” Jon joined in
the conversation. “She said she doesn’t want Sansa to overhear her and me going
at it.”
“Shit, is that why I haven’t heard you two yet?” Arya asked. “I’ve really,
really wanted to touch myself to that. I haven’t gotten to hear Val like the
others. I bet she cries after orgasms. Am I right Jon?”
Jon shook his head. “Arya…”
Arya frowned. “Jon, it's okay. Sansa likes it too. Right Sansa?”
Jon looked back at her and Sansa thought about Jon. Jon Snow. Robb’s best
friend from childhood, Arya’s older brother, a part of her family… Sansa’s
family. Jon was like a brother to her, she had thought. Except looking at him
now, seeing his tousled and sweaty hair, the growing frown of concern on his
face, the hot building tension running through his powerful, sculpted body…
Sansa knew she could never look at a brother the way she looked at Jon.
So the choice was simple.
“Sansa?”
She placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder for balance and gripped the side of her
panties with two fingers, slithering out of them with careful practice, never
breaking eye contact with Jon. She had a little trouble getting them completely
off at one point, when she realized that they were sticking to her outer lips,
the moisture there having become thick and sticky. Her panties were a tangled,
damp mixture of fabric and fluids when she managed to step out of them. They
were still hooked on Sansa’s toe for a few seconds until finally they snapped
with a dainty flourish into her hand.
“Here.”
She made sure to squeeze Jon’s fingers over the lacey cotton so he would feel
the wetness there. Her arousal. Her desire.
“If Val starts worrying about me hearing you two… just stuff these in her mouth
and shut her up, okay?”
She scurried away with Arya into their bedroom, feeling Jon’s eyes on her ass
the whole time.
It was only a few minutes later that they heard the crash in Jon’s bedroom.
Heard the door slam. The moans, the bumps, and then Jon just… ripping into Val.
Sansa’s fingers were growing slick and slimy after ten minutes of listening.
Val’s moans had started to become screams, like Arya’s moans had become screams
when she was being spanked. Jon sounded even more frenzied. Sansa knew he had
orgasmed at least once at that point. She’d heard Val shout something about how
she wanted his come all over her face, and Sansa shuddered when she’d heard the
loud guttural cry from Jon that followed. So why was he sounding more and more…
starved?
That insatiable beast in Jon was why it had to be this way. This was the only
choice, really. Either let Jon have his way with Val, forcing Sansa to listen
against her will… or Jon would have taken her instead.
And Sansa would have tried to fight him off… the way Arya had tried.
Sansa was coming down from her second self-induced orgasm when she noticed Arya
pulling a large, oaken chest out from under her bed.
Val screamed again. This time the sound was different and it made Sansa’s
stomach clench so hard that she was almost dizzy after. Sansa understood why
the sound turned her on so much a second later.
Val’s voice was muffled, choking… like she was being gagged by something.
“Want me to show you my vibrator collection?” Arya chirped up.
Stupid Sexy Jon Snow did this to her, and just like a man, he had left Sansa to
take care of the problem herself.
“Fuck yes.”
***** Chapter 5 - Daenerys and Denial *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa has some fun at the pool and meets a really cool girl. Jon
     likes her too...
Chapter Notes
     I am incapable of writing short updates anymore.
     Also, the swimsuit that I describe Daenerys wearing is supposed to be
     an homage to this: http://www.ntsang.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/
     daenerys.jpg
     I fear I didn't do a good job describing it, so just imagine Dany
     wearing a modern au swimsuit version of that costume.
Two months went by, and less and less Sansa found herself remembering King’s
Landing. The seasons were so distinct on the East Coast, so disruptive to
everyday life, that you couldn’t help but notice as time slipped away. Mother
would say that every change of the season was a chance to look back on your
mistakes, reflect, and try to do better in the future.
The weather in San Francisco however, never changed. Sometimes it was “perfect
beach weather” and other times it was “too chilly for the beach weather.” Yet
Sansa had never gone to see the sand or dip her toes in the surf. Arya was
always ranting about how dumb and dirty the beach was and Jon had even admitted
that he wasn’t crazy about the sand.
A swimming pool on the other hand…
Arya and Gendry were playing chicken with Jon and Gilly, though Sansa noticed
that Gilly was a little too anxious to wrestle or splash in earnest, so the
game consisted mostly of her and Gendry dominating while Jon was splashed in
the face a lot. At one point Jon lost his footing, pitching both him and Gilly
into the water, and Arya started howling in victory.
“Fear the wild wolf!” Arya shouted about half a dozen times before Gendry
lifted her off his shoulders and tossed her away with a flick of his arm.
Everyone chuckled and cheered, Gendry sketching an awkward bow which only made
Sansa laugh more.
She and Sam were sitting in folding chairs around the edge of the pool, Sansa
soaking up as much sun as she could in her new halter-top bikini while Sam was
shaded under a huge umbrella. Though Sam and Sansa hadn’t spoken to each other
that much, she decided that she liked the man. He was self-conscious about his
weight but was otherwise attentive and helpful and kind. He was going to be a
vet one day, even though he was afraid of blood, because he just loved all
animals so much. It was easy to see why Gilly was so besotted with him. Sansa
thought they were truly the most adorable couple she had ever known, fictional
or otherwise.
Sam was wearing a swimsuit but was set on not getting in the water, wearing a
Hawaiian print shirt that looked noticeably average next to Arianne. The olive-
skinned socialite was wearing a bright yellow bikini that was cut into three
strips around her chest to highlight her sizeable breasts, expensive strappy
sandals on her feet, and a lacey, golden shawl that she had perfectly wrapped
around her hips and forearms at all times. She wasn’t keen on the idea of
swimming either, but Sansa suspected her reasons had more to do with the eye
shadow and makeup she was wearing.
Still, Sansa didn’t judge. Arianne had rapidly eclipsed all of Jon’s other
callers in Sansa’s eyes. Though Jon tended to attract the same kind of girl;
tall, beautiful, independent, beautiful, sexually adventurous, and of course
beautiful, Arianne made all of them look like suburban hens in comparison.
Arianne was older than the rest of them, in her early 30s, and lived a truly
jealousy-inducing life. She was the official language translator for some very
important Volantene diplomats in Westeros. Because of that she got to meet
important and interesting people almost every day and was quite rich to an
almost unseemly degree, not even counting her family inheritance.
She was only ever in San Francisco for a few months at a time, when she wasn’t
jet-setting to the most beautiful and exotic places in the world, and over the
past month, she had worked hard to win Sansa over, quite successfully.
And she was the one who had suggested that they come to her father’s country
club, the Water Gardens, for a fun day of swimming. Arya and Sansa had been
arguing over what to do for the weekend, the weather saying it was perfect
beach time.
Arianne had popped up from giving Jon some truly spectacular head (judging from
his moans) to say that she knew of a pool that they could all use.
“My father takes great care of it. I go all the time when I’m in the city,”
Arianne explained as she continued to slide her hand up and down Jon’s shaft in
a slow, teasing motion. He was trying to say something but Arianne had already
blindfolded, gagged, and tied him to one of the kitchen chairs, even before
Sansa and Arya had come home and caught them. “And they also don’t card very
often…”
Arya perked up at that. “Oh, oh, day drinking? I never get to day drink! I’m
in!”
Sansa was mildly miffed that the beach was once again denied to her but those
feelings were quickly outshined by the idea of swimming in a Country Club pool.
That was a luxury that the Starks had lost pretty much the day after father
died.
“Alright, sounds good to me. I’m getting excited actually!” Sansa cheered,
bouncing on her knees a bit on the couch. “What do you think Jon? Maybe we can
invite Sam and Gilly as well?”
Jon turned to Sansa’s voice and nodded before he groaned again, Arianne taking
his cock back into her mouth. She was sitting on the floor between his feet,
slowly sucking and licking, making all sorts of purposely lewd noises. Arya
would sometimes tease Jon as she walked by from the living room to the kitchen
for a snack, leaning over and licking one of his nipples or teasing him with
whispered words, but otherwise she ignored the couple. Sansa too.
That sort of thing had become normal once Arianne came back into town. Clearly
Jon’s libido, while so uncontrollable that he usually casually dated at least 3
or 4 women at a time, was no match for Arianne’s voracious appetite. Not only
had she crashed at the apartment almost every day for two weeks, but Sansa
later found out that Arianne did this kind of thing with other single guys like
Jon all over the country. She also had a very serious boyfriend named Daemon
who was somehow even more handsome and sex-crazed than Jon.
Sansa was guessing about that last part though, since she’d never truly spoken
to Daemon. The one time she met him, Sansa was screaming at Jon, scolding him
for carrying on with a woman who had a boyfriend after she saw Arianne come out
of the bathroom wearing one of Jon’s dress shirts. Sansa went on a tear,
thinking of all the times that Joffrey had cheated on her and accusing both
Arianne and Jon of being just like him.
That was the moment Daemon came out of Jon’s room, stunning and god-like in his
nudity, blushing all over. Sansa noticed how much Arianne was limping then.
Threesome Arianne indeed.
Other than that slight hiccup though, she and Arianne had become friends in
truth. She knew almost as much about fashion as Sansa, but Arianne was also
well-read on poetry, history, philosophy, and about ten different languages.
She knew how to drink any man under the table, took no shits from any would-be
assholes, yet was gentler than a dove with her loved ones.
She also helped Sansa understand Jon better.
Apparently when Jon first met Arianne, he’d had some experience with girls but
was still the closed-off, awkward, lacking in confidence idiot that Sansa had
known in high school. He “knew his way around” but still had much to learn, as
Arianne put it. For three months she and Jon had explored every fantasy and
vice that the other could think of, even trying other girls together.
Eventually Jon became even better at picking up women than Arianne, which she
laughed about a lot. Sansa remembered how her eyes bugged out when she realized
Arianne was bisexual.
“Oh sweetling, girls are the best,” Arianne had once lectured Sansa over a
night of fancy wines at the Quill and Tankard Bistro. “Why would I limit myself
to men? Yes, they have the cocks, and a good cock is like a good red meat
hamburger, no substitutes will do the trick. But a girl’s tongue… hmm, girls
are the only ones who really know how to eat another girl right.”
“Jon has never had any complaints,” Sansa replied without thought, and started
blushing terribly when Arianne gave her a knowing, side-long look.
“Don’t get me wrong, sometimes you strike gold with guys like Jon, guys who
treat it like art not sport, but no man can replace the feeling of a wicked
girl’s tongue moving in all the right spots.”
Sansa nodded. “I suppose so. It’s not unlike the difference between a typist
and someone who has taken a typing class, earned versus learned experience.”
Arianne perked up at that. “Yes, exactly! Exactly!” She cheered for Sansa a bit
more before her next question. “So tell me Sansa, have Jon and Arya slept
together yet?”
Sansa knew Arianne was trying to startle her, throw her off with such a blunt
question. Sansa didn’t take the bait. She wasn’t stupid. Of course Arianne
would know about Arya and Jon’s little “games.” Jon had developed his appetites
under Arianne’s tutelage, in Sansa’s eyes at least.
“They aren’t…” Sansa started carefully, then pivoting the conversation away
from Jon. “Arya has actually started dating a guy, so I think she’s worried
that sex with Jon would be considered cheating. I don’t think she and her
boyfriend have slept together, but then, it’s Arya so who knows?”
“Is it that one older boy?” Arianne asked. “The big fellow?”
“Yes, Gendry.”
Becoming friends with Arianne was great, but the most exciting thing that had
happened since Sansa’s birthday was getting to witness the slowly growing puppy
love between Gendry and her sister.
Apparently after the party Gendry either changed his mind about Arya or Arya
had talked to Gendry, but whatever happened their relationship was different.
They still spent the same amount of time together, still yelled at each other,
still acted like they hated one another at times, but every once in a while,
Sansa would catch Gendry holding Arya’s hand. Arya would give Gendry a peck on
the cheek when she thought no one was looking. The cutest moment had been when
Sansa caught them in the apartment hallway, just staring at one another, not
saying a word. They both had uncharacteristic smiles on that melted Sansa’s
heart.
It all came to a head when Arya’s 18th birthday rolled around. She’d had a
party at one of her friend’s house, Jon and Sansa were forbidden from coming,
but later that night Gendry came over with Arya and announced that they were
going to watch some movies. Jon and Sansa had joined, more for gossip reasons
than responsible ones, and watched as Arya laid her head on Gendry’s shoulder
while he put his arm around her, never moving an inch through three different
Slasher flicks.
Eventually around 3 in the morning, Arya announced she was going to bed. Gendry
stood, clearly about to head to the front door, when Arya took his hand and
walked him to their room. Jon and Sansa were too stunned to protest. Sansa’s
bedroom apparently occupied for the night, Jon said he would crash on the couch
while Sansa took his bed. Sansa almost suggested they share a bed, as they had
done a couple of times since the party (though it never became quite that
sexual again) until she remembered she had a boyfriend now.
“Hey babe, Virgin Daiquiri, as ordered.”
Sansa looked away from the pool to see a sculpted set of washboard abs that you
just wanted to run a finger down. Up those scintillating abdominals were two
sizeable pecs, broad shoulders, and that warm secret-soft armpit area where
every girl wanted to snuggle her head that every tall guy had.
His face though was the real prize. Soft, sandy-blonde hair with bright,
beautiful blue eyes and a stunning, easy-going smile… Sansa couldn’t help but
swoon a little bit every time she saw that smile.
“Thank you honey,” Sansa said with a little shimmy in her voice. She sipped at
the drink and then immediately blanched. “Harry Honey, I think this is yours.
It has rum in it.”
“Whoops, my bad!” Harry laughed as he switched their drinks. Yes, this one
tasted much better, Sansa thought.
“Much better,” Sansa cooed. Harry planted a soft peck on her lips and sat on
the sun chair next to her. She liked the way he laid back in it, one arm behind
his head while the other held his drink, just letting all that golden skin soak
up the sun. Sansa licked her lips at the sight of him.
Harry was in Sansa’s Geology class, a class that she was taking purely as a
blow-off science credit, and he managed to make the professor’s droning
lectures somewhat entertaining with his flirting. Harry was handsome and
charming, but more than that he knew how to have fun. Sansa had forgotten at
some point how to have fun! Jon and Arya were sexual monsters, but they tended
to enjoy hiking in nature and otherwise staying in. Sansa missed tearing up a
dance floor at a nightclub or mooning over someone at a fancy restaurant, and
Harry was always up for more amusement.
They had yet to have sex, but Sansa was eager. Harry was on the Basketball team
and Sansa had seen him playing a couple of times, and he really was an
impressive athlete. Harry constantly had cheerleaders and college football
groupies throwing themselves at him, yet he barely gave any of them a glance,
let alone the reverent awe he always reserved for Sansa. ”For me.”
“Those girls, they’re just shiny pennies,” Harry had said one night, when Sansa
felt confident enough in their relationship to speak her fears. “But you Sansa
Stark…
“You’re the goddamn sun.”
Sansa still thought about that as she watched Harry chug down his drink before
setting the glass aside, waving a waiter over to take it. She imagined kissing
him, running her fingers through his hair as she rode him… she wanted it. She
wanted it bad. She felt herself hesitating though and knew it had to do with
Joffrey, with Petyr.
When Harry first asked her out, she’d said no because of Myranda, but after she
and Myranda stopped talking, Sansa felt nothing was standing in her way
anymore. She’d asked Harry out, surprising them both, and every step of the way
she had pushed their relationship further. She was the one who asked him out on
a second date. She even showed him the weirwood garden on the roof that Jon had
made her. He had agreed how special it was.
Yet she couldn’t get herself to sleep with him.
At first Sansa felt bad about it, like she was a tease or something. She
wondered if maybe she had tried jumping into a relationship with someone before
she was ready and worried that Harry would eventually get bored. Surprisingly,
it wasn’t Jon or Arya or even mother that had made her feel better. It was
Arianne.
“Look, I’m easy,” Arianne had shouted at Sansa when they sat at a table in a
loud, booming nightclub together, a table of guys snickering when they head
her. “For me, if the guy’s handsome enough to keep me interested, charming
enough to keep me engaged, and humble enough to be second fiddle to Daemon,
then I’ll give anyone a try.”
“I wish I could be more like that,” Sansa sighed/shouted as she took a sip of
the Shirley Temple the bartender had made for her free of charge.
“No, no, my point is that we’re different.” Arianne had polished off her drink
and placed the glass down on the table before gripping Sansa by the shoulders.
“Sansa, you go at your own speed, okay? Sex isn’t supposed to be an obligation
or pressured, it’s supposed to be about fun! You are a fucking beautiful winter
flower in full summer bloom. If a guy isn’t willing to wait for you? That guy
is a classless bore and it’s his loss.”
Sansa was almost in tears as they hugged.
“My goodness, doesn’t Jon ever tire? Silly man,” Arianne laughed, bringing
Sansa back to the present.
She looked and saw that Jon and Arya were the only ones in the pool now, Gendry
having gotten out at some point and disappeared while Gilly was toweling off
her hair. Sam immediately moved his towel off the chair next to him so Gilly
could sit, before he handed her a third towel and a glass of iced tea that he
had ordered for her earlier without being told. Adorable.
Jon and Arya meanwhile were wrestling and laughing in the pool, splashing
around and trying to dunk each other’s heads like they were 5 year-olds.
Arianne was laughing, she knew all about Jon and Arya’s weird sex games so that
was fine, but Sansa worried for a moment what Gendry would say if he came back
and saw them. And as much as Arianne might understand, Sansa felt annoyed for
her sake that Jon wasn’t paying more attention to her, as her kind-of-sort-of-
date to the club.
“This place is beautiful,” Sansa said, drawing Arianne’s attention, hoping she
could make up for Jon and Arya’s behavior. “Thank you again so much for
inviting us.”
Sam and Gilly nodded, while Harry said something about the place being “swanky
as hell” but only after Sansa gave him a light nudge to the ribs.
“Oh thank you everyone, really, but I was glad to do it.” Arianne was wearing
sunglasses, but Sansa imagined she winked. “Besides, the club can be a great
place to pick up fresh victims, right Sansa?”
Sansa giggled despite herself at the little inside joke. One night when she and
Arianne had gone to an art gallery opening happening in the basement of an old
steel mill (Arianne was tapped into all sorts of cool things in the city like
that) Sansa had had a few too many glasses of champagne and blurted out some
thoughts she had about Jon. Arianne’s favorite, that caused her to laugh so
loudly that everyone turned to look at them, was when Sansa described the way
she imagined Jon “hunting his victims.”
“Oh Sansa, Jon’s too prime to have to go looking,” Arianne spoke as she wiped
the tears from her eyes. “All the girls come to him.”
“But like, why?” Sansa had giggles around her frown. “He’s handsome, sure, but
so serious. He always seems to be rumbling at people. Hrm. Hrm. Hrm.”
Arianne laughed even more at Sansa’s impression. “You really want to know Jon’s
secret?”
”If it helps me stop thinking about him all the time, then yes,” Sansa thought,
but she just nodded.
“It’s simple.” Arianne paused for obvious effect. “He’s the devil.”
Sansa would have reacted more demurely if she wasn’t drunk. “What the fuck does
that mean?”
“Sorry, I was just picking on your Maiden-Mother sensibilities. All I mean is
that he makes the Devil’s Bargain.” Sansa nodded for her to continue. “He never
asks a girl to sleep with him, you see. He never… tries, really. I mean he
tries because he’s polite and he knows lots of girls like that, but he never
puts himself out there. He never has an agenda. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t
even flirt really, or at least he doesn’t do it well. He just… makes them an
offer they can’t refuse.”
“Which is?” Sansa leaned forward.
Arianne smirked, but this time there was something less predatory and more…
nostalgic.
“The chance to do everything and anything sexual you’ve ever secretly desired,
ever dreamed about late at night, every shameful curiosity you’ve buried down
deep for fear of your own self-judgement. He offers you the chance to get
everything you’ve ever wanted in the bedroom, and he offers it with the
knowledge that he’ll definitely make it good.”
Sansa was silent as she waited for Arianne to continue.
“But that’s… that’s it? That’s why all these girls are so mad for him?”
“It’s not all girls Sansa,” Arianne frowned, though she still had a touch of
teasing in her voice. “Just the girls who have always wanted something, whether
it be as complicated as rope play or as simple as finding your g-spot. Jon
comes with a guarantee that most guys don’t, and the girls who can see that,
who want that fantasy bad enough… I mean that’s like offering crack.”
“And what does he get in return?” Sansa asked, confusing Arianne for a moment.
“He gives them this, whatever, ultimate fantasy, but what does he get in
return?”
Arianne looked even more confused. “Um… he gets the chance to have sex with
women who desperately want him to do all the terrible things they want done to
them, that society would normally frown at. Nine times out of ten, that girl
has had sex with a number of men and they’ve all fallen short, so there’s a
loyal customer base as well.”
“And that’s what Jon wants?”
Arianne shrugged. “What man wouldn’t?”
Sansa nodded… yet she couldn’t help but wonder.
Sam and Gilly seemed fine with Arianne and Sansa’s little inside joke, they had
about a million between them anyway, but Harry frowned. He very rarely frowned
and whenever he did, Sansa would press her fingers to his brow and joke that he
needed to relax. Sansa was about to reach up and do it again, but for the first
time Harry lightly brushed her off.
“Wait, what do you mean victims? You mean you like, pick up dudes here?” He
asked Arianne, sitting up in his seat at more attention than Sansa had ever
seen him, other than those few of times when she gave him a taste between her
legs.
Arianne seemed just as surprised by his sudden interest but seamlessly shifted
back to her cool, non-affected manner. Sansa admired that ability.
“Of course, Harrold, men to be sure,” Arianne explained. “And some women too,
when the fancy strikes me.”
Sansa could tell that Harry was dazzled by that, about to say something until
his eyes flashed over to Sansa and he thought better of it. She wondered what
he would have said. Suddenly Sansa didn’t like this conversation so much. She
didn’t blame Arianne but… he’d never found the woman half as fascinating as
Sansa. Until this moment.
“So like, if you were going to try and score-“ Harry paused. “If there was a
woman here who you wanted to sleep with, who might you consider?”
Arianne chuckled but Sansa could tell it was fake. “I don’t know… how could I
focus on anyone else when this delicate, willowy creature is in my eyeline,
filling my every waking thought?”
Harry looked so lost then so Sansa tapped his ribs and gave him a look. “Take
the bait,” Sansa’s face said. “Look at me and say how lucky you are to be here
with me, you idiot,” Sansa thought at him. Harry seemed to get the hint but
then he turned back to Arianne.
“Right, right, of course not Sansa. Or Gilly,” Harry waved his hand in a
general direction before continuing. “I mean like a stranger, like what about
that one?”
Harry pointed at a skinny brunette in a black cotton two piece. Her hair was
slicked back from having just swam in the lap pool and she had that thing where
her hip bones stuck out really far that made Sansa equal parts worried for her
health and also kind of shamefully jealous.
“That ‘one’?” Arianne had acid dripping from her tone but Harry couldn’t hear
it. Neither could Sam for that matter. He was calmly reading his e-book while
Gilly shared a look of worry with Sansa.
“Er, yeah, or how about that one?” Harry gestured to a blonde with a sunhat who
was reading a book in her chair across the pool from them.
“I don’t know,” Arianne stated flatly, her patience at an end. “I generally
like to get to know the person I’m sleeping with. Tends to help humanize them.”
Harry got the hint then. “Sorry, sorry, I’m being a huge asshole dude right
now, aren’t I?” He stood up and took Arianne’s empty champagne flute as well as
Gilly’s now finished iced tea. “Why don’t I try and save some face, if that’s
possible, by refilling some of these fine ladies’ drinks?”
Arianne and Gilly looked to Sansa then. ”Arianne’s membership fee is paying for
the drinks Harry,” Sansa quietly criticized, but she quickly managed to swallow
that bit of nagging and smile.
“Thanks Honey, that’s sweet of you.” Sansa could see Arianne was still a bit
turned off, so she decided to bring back the fun mood a bit. “But make sure you
walk slowly. We want to get a good look at that blonde hunky one,” Sansa
finished, slapping Harry right on one of those firm butt cheeks. The tension
was broken when Arianne gave a lyrical sigh of entertainment and Gilly giggled.
“As you wish,” Harry smirked in that handsome, self-assured way of his, putting
an extra comedic bounce in his step when he turned his back on them.
“Very good Sansa,” Arianne said. “With a boy that handsome, you need to keep
him from getting too big a head. I swear, Daemon was a sexist, backwards-
thinking mess before I met him. Now he eats out of the palm of my hand, and in
return I occasionally let him think it’s his idea that we’re together.”
Sansa giggled but Gilly frowned. She didn’t say anything though. She just
turned back to Sam and asked him about what he was reading and they went off
into their little world of love and commitment. Sansa hated them as much as she
envied them.
Gendry had returned at that point, and he and Arya were swimming alone while
Jon went over to the lap pool. He was a surprisingly good swimmer, but Sansa
figured that had to do with his police training or something.
When Jon got out after about four laps, he brushed his long black hair away
from his face, smooth and sleek now from the water rather than its usual mess
of curls. Water was dripping down his chest and a few streams here and there
would linger between his hardened abs and down into the trail of curling hair
that pointed down from his navel. Jon’s swimsuit looked a bit old, one of the
pockets tearing slightly so you could see the inner netting, yet otherwise Jon
looked like he had stepped out of a GQ catalog.
Sansa felt herself shiver again like she always did when she stared at Jon’s
body.
Her mind flashed to the first time she had caught Jon with Arianne. They
weren’t fucking on a table or 69’ing on the couch, like Sansa expected. In
fact, Arianne made care to try and be discreet whenever possible, even after
Sansa confessed that she sometimes liked hearing Jon with girls. It was Sansa’s
fault, really. She’d entered the apartment to find it empty and just assumed
she had the place to herself. So when she heard the load shout from Jon’s
bedroom, she’d instinctively gone to investigate.
Arianne was facing away from Sansa, her hands on Jon’s headboard as she flowed
and undulated her hips, pressing and rubbing her sex against Jon’s face. His
arms were pinned above his head by Arianne’s thighs, and even though Sansa was
sure Jon was strong enough to lift her whole body, he stayed restrained.
Arianne was too focused on Jon’s mouth to notice that Sansa had entered.
Arya did though. She was working some sort of long tube over Jon’s dick (“It’s
called a fleshlight!” she’d explained later) gross squishing and burping noises
coming from it as she worked it up and down Jon’s shaft. Arya was fully
clothed, wearing a pair of tan capris and a band t-shirt, but was clearly
enjoying herself nonetheless. The shouts had been Jon’s voice.
“Whoa! He’s cumming!” Arya laughed like with a wild cackle. “Man, this thing
must really work! That was like seven minutes, Jon never pops off that fast.”
“Keep going Arya,” Arianne panted. “If you go quickly, you might skip his
refractory period and then he can go right into the next erection.”
“Wow, you know the coolest stuff,” Arya gushed before she turned some dial on
the tube, Jon growling even louder somehow. Little more threatening too.
“Ooooh, we’ve made him mad,” Arianne sang before she noticed Sansa. “Oh good,
darling, you’re here. Can you hand me those handcuffs over there? Jon’s being
such a good boy, I want to show my appreciation by giving him a little treat
later. Spoiler alert, the treat is- ugggghhhh, yes, right there…”
Sansa handed Arianne the fuzzy handcuffs and scurried away soon after. She made
sure she kept her ear to the wall for the rest of the night though. Even though
she and Jon had silently agreed that they wouldn’t have sex, Sansa couldn’t
seem to get enough of hearing him have sex with other girls. Some nights, when
Jon didn’t have any woman over, Arya would go into Jon’s room to tease him. The
games usually ended with Arya scurrying back to their room after a while, all
buzzed up with energy for the rest of the night. But every once in a while Jon
would feel a little more selfish and Sansa would be awoken past midnight by
Arya’s wild moans.
Those nights were Sansa’s favorite.
Sansa was still still staring at Jon as he prepared to jump back into the lap
lane, when Harry returned with the refreshments. Sansa felt immediate guilt for
leering at another guy when she had a really good one right in front of her.
Jon was cut like a muscled Adonis, but Harry was more Sansa’s type, she
thought. Handsome, easygoing, and big. Very big. Harry was taller than Jon and
probably stronger, though that was more good genes than working out. Sansa had
watched Harry do push-ups and he probably practiced for the basketball team,
but otherwise Harry was more into video games and fantasy football. Really
Harry was just blessed to be born with broad shoulders and long legs.
Which was fine. ”I have to stop comparing Harry to Jon, she said to herself for
probably the thousandth time. ”It’s not healthy and it’s not good for anyone.”
“Hey babe, you okay?”
Sansa perked up and put on her best smile. “Of course Honey.”
Perhaps it was out of guilt a little bit, but Sansa made sure to add extra
passion into her kiss, gripping Harry by the neck and pressing her face above
his, almost making him spill his Daiquiri before he caught himself. A second
later Sansa almost jumped when she felt something cold wrap around her butt
cheek, but then she realized it was just Harry’s hand, cold from having had to
carry the drinks.
“Wow,” Harry said after the kiss was over, a dazed expression on his face. “Can
I get you anything else maybe? A car, a house, my eternal soul?”
Sansa giggled. Arianne was smirking again, so that seemed safely neutral, and
Gilly and Sam just smiled at each other with a knowing look, probably thinking
back to their own courtship. The sun was out, Arya was having fun with her new
boyfriend, and Jon was out of her mind and out of her worries. Everything was
perfect.
“Oh gods!” Sam gasped.
Everyone turned to look at him and saw Sam pointing at the blonde that Harry
had been eyeing earlier. She had put her book down and took off her floppy hat,
and was now unwrapping the dark indigo beach cover-up she’d been wearing. It
was held by two buttons over her chest, and she snapped them one, by one, and
then opened her arms in an almost ballet-like flourish. Once it was open, the
dress folded like a towel which the girl casually dropped to her chair.
Her beauty was humbling.
She was wearing an egg-shell blue bikini, somewhat basic except for the fact
that it was strapless, but connected to the suit were two crossing straps of
shimmering green fabric that was held over the girl’s cleavage by a large ring,
the straps crossing over her back and then going around to the bottoms below
her navel, a tasteful piercing in her bellybutton that held a small chain of
even smaller bells. It was a glamorous suit that helped highlight the girl’s
considerable breasts and flat stomach.
As Sansa looked closer, even the bikini was more detailed than she had
originally thought, a glittering material was interwoven with the light blue
fabric of the suit, like dragon’s scales. It was in some ways gaudy Sansa
thought, yet the girl’s goddess-like presence made it work somehow.
Her hair was somewhat short, longer than Arya’s neck length but shorter than
Sansa’s hair. It looked unstyled, hanging down loosely, yet Sansa had to
believe that there was product in it. There just had to be. It was a pale,
stunning blonde that was almost white, giving the girl an almost pure, angelic
presence. It looked like the kind of hair that was thick enough to run your
fingers through yet also inexplicably ethereal, like no human hand could touch
it.
Her face was the most breathtaking part of her. Sansa realized that they
weren’t the only ones staring. The moment she took off her sunglasses and shook
out her hair from her hat, it seemed like everyone by the pool stopped to ogle
the girl.
She sat back down on her chair and with a dainty point of her toe, crossed her
legs and started applying sun tan lotion. This ordinary human activity knocked
the fog away from Sansa’s mind a little and soon everyone else sort of woke up.
Sam was still staring though.
“Do you recognize her Sam?” Gilly naively asked, Sansa thinking it was obvious
why he was staring.
“That’s Daenerys Targaryen!” Sam peeped.
Harry jumped at that. “NO fucking way, are you serious dude?!”
Suddenly Harry was reaching for his phone and looking something up while Sansa
continued to be confused. Arianne seemed to recognize the name, based on the
way she stared wide-eyed at the girl. Sansa thought she recognized that last
name at least, Targaryen, but she wasn’t sure why. Something about…
“By the Seven!” Sansa shouted, drawing far too many eyes, including Daenerys.
“She’s the one, isn’t she? The last one of the royal family?”
“Yes,” Sam said with an almost irreverent shudder. Sansa realized now that he
wasn’t getting turned on, he was nerding out. “The last of the Targaryens, the
family that ruled over all of Westeros until the populist sentiment overthrew
them and established the New Parliament. She’s a walking piece of genuine
history. Of OUR history! After the rebellion, so many artifacts were lost
across the Narrow Sea that historians can’t properly document… but they know
it’s true and she’s a part of everything… the story of ice and-”
“Fucking hells!” Harry shouted, completely unaware of the hush that had passed
over the group as Sam spoke. “I knew it! She’s that chick who sold a bunch of
her family’s shit and now she’s like, one of the top 20 richest people in the
world!”
“Top 50 really.”
Only Arianne didn’t jump. Daenerys Targaryen, the most famous woman in the
world (apparently) was standing by Harry, looking over his shoulder at his
phone. Or she was, until Harry dropped the device with a loud crack. Sam looked
like he was trying to push the entirety of his body into his folding chair and
Gilly looked like she was about to stand and bow before deciding to lower her
head instead.
Sansa just gaped like a fish.
“I’ve actually already spent a majority of the money that I received from my
family’s Asshai holdings, or ‘that bunch of shit’ as you more accurately put
it,” Daenerys continued. Her smile was so charming that even Sansa felt a blush
coming on. “The money I have left now is in trusts and stocks, so I’m not
nearly as rich as people think. It’s all that make-believe money that the
global markets like to trade in.”
Sansa was still speechless but Arianne must have been used to this kind of
thing saying, “Well, once you’re truly filthy rich, it can be somewhat
difficult to fall back into poverty.”
“True,” Daenerys nodded. Sansa noticed that her eyes did a quick scan over
Arianne, fluttering for a moment on her breasts and lips. “It seems you all
know my name already, but it’s only right I make a proper introduction. My name
is Daenerys, but you can just call me Dany.”
“You’ve charmed us,” Arianne purred, reaching a hand out. Dany looked surprised
but amused. “Arianne Martell. Are you a member here?”
“No, but men are always giving me free things. Visits like these included.”
She said it so plainly and without any ceremony that it took a moment for the
words to register. It made sense of course. Dany looked like the kind of girl
that men once fought wars over. She was short, about Arianne’s height, and she
had some sort of chafed skin or injury around her thighs, but that was Sansa
nitpicking. Up close now, Sansa could see that her breasts were actually
smaller than she had originally thought.
Still… Sansa felt like a boy in comparison.
Dany shook hands with Sam and Gilly as well (Sam looking like he was going to
pass out when their skin made contact) and then moved on to Harry. Harry puffed
up his chest and gave his best, most roguish smile. Sansa was annoyed that he
was clearly attracted to Dany and doing nothing to hide it, even when his
girlfriend was sitting right next to him… and yet part of her hoped that Dany
asked Harry out or something, just so Sansa could tell her he was taken.
“I actually have a bit of a confession to make,” Dany said, looking more
excited than embarrassed. “I came over specifically to talk to you-”
“Oh yeah?” Harry asked (or more like growled), flexing his arms and making an
impressive sight as he towered over Dany. Sansa realized that Dany was only a
few inches taller than Arya. It was hard to see though. Dany seemed to carry
this gravity around her that made everything else seem small.
“Why’s that?” Harry asked, pressing a finger under the girl's chin.
Now Sansa was getting annoyed. She recognized the tone in his voice. At any
other time, Harry’s voice would have made Sansa feel all tingly because she
knew he was filling with desire for her. Sansa’s jealousy issues were talking a
real pummeling today. Sansa prayed that her test would end soon and that
Harry's ego would get the wind knocked out of it.
Dany seemed amused by them. “I’m sorry, you’re very… cute,” she settled on.
“But actually… my confession is that I really sort of… already knew who you
are. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to say something to you.”
Sansa was completely lost until she realized Dany was talking to her, not
Harry.
“Me?” Sansa wondered how dumb she sounded. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Dany blushed, and like everything else about her, she did it in a way that was
equal parts erotic, alluring, innocent, and captivating.
“No, we’ve never met but… I follow you on Instagram and- and I just love all
your posts!” Dany gushed, the elegant elven princess disappearing to be
replaced by this regular fangirl. Sansa was reminded of Serenai then. The two
could have been sisters… and Serenai would be considered the homely one.
“You do?” Sansa asked, a creeping fear suddenly rising in her belly.
“Yeah! You are Sansypants111, aren’t you?” Dany didn’t even wait for Sansa to
finish nodding. “I really like all the outfits you’ve sewn and the make-up
hints you post, and of course all of your selfies are on point, but I also just
really like your style. Sometimes I check your history for inspiration whenever
I have to go to a morning charity event and- I’m sorry, I’m rambling, I just
wanted to come over and say hi.”
Sansa was trying to smile. “How did you find me though?”
Dany looked confused by the question but still managed to ooze charm with her
answer. “A friend of mine, Missandei, maybe you know her? She’s
‘lostprincessofnaath’?”
That name actually did sound familiar. “Right, right, she’s commented on a few
of my design pics. She always notices the details I try to put in my stitching.
She sews?”
“As a past time yes. We try to do little craft projects together, for girl
bonding. We’ve actually tried a couple of dress adjustments like you showed on
your story…”
Sansa felt better the more they talked. She and Dany chattered for a few more
minutes about different dresses she’d made, designs she’d tried, patterns and
button styles, even some of the funny posts that Sansa had made when she wore
leftover costumes from Oldtown University’s showing of Grease. Even though she
knew she had followers that actually cared about her design ideas and followed
her for pictures of beautiful clothing, Sansa was always more careful now.
After her birthday, Myranda was quick to hold Sansa to her promise of coming
into the Photo Lab to take some pictures. Sansa thought it was going to be a
simple process, like a school photo. She would sit in front of a neutral
background while Myranda took a few shots in different lightings. Sansa brought
a cute dress, and one or two non-dress options, and her makeup, but that was
it.
She should have known better. Myranda had brought designer clothes and multiple
cameras and even a professional makeup person. She wanted to do a whole
professional shoot, like they did for magazines. Sansa almost backed out, until
Myranda managed to pinch and cajole her with compliments. After a while, Sansa
decided it was just easier to ride the hurricane.
In the end they’d taken probably a thousand photos in about a million different
positions, outfits, backgrounds, and angles. Sansa was growing tired of
smiling, and crying (they had tried a few shots where Sansa cried after she
told Myranda she could do it on cue) and just generally trying to make herself
look nice. It was tiring to be on all the time. It was growing dark when Sansa
decided to call it a night.
But Myranda wanted one more shot. And Sansa trusted her.
Sansa had been in her cute little pink, lacey boy-shorts and nothing else,
changing into her street clothes. Myranda did ask permission to take the
picture, claiming that the way Sansa was standing, with her back to the camera
and one arm up, made for the most beautiful sight of the evening. It felt
strange being so exposed, but she let Myranda take one test picture and show it
to her.
It wasn’t pornographic by any means, but you could see Sansa’s entire spine and
a little bit of the cleft of her bottom where her underwear had bunched up. The
bottom of the boyshorts were riding up as well, showing a hint of cheek that
made Sansa feel flustered. Even the side of her boob (the one she considered
her good boob) was somewhat visible, a whisper promising something more.
It was a sexy photo. The kind that Sansa would only ever send to a boyfriend
and no one else.
So a few weeks later, when Sansa was going to talk to Myranda about possibly
going on a date Harry, she was taken completely off-guard by what happened.
Arya had texted her a link asking, “Is this you?” and when Sansa clicked it,
she immediately dropped all of her books right in the middle of the quad.
“Hot Coed of the Week” the banner read above the picture. The top trending
article was about how to trick your girlfriend into a threesome. The comments
below it were even grosser.
The only people who had copies of the photos were Sansa and Myranda. So when
Myranda lied right to Sansa’s face about leaking it, Sansa didn’t see any
reason to be honest with Myranda anymore.
The next day she’d asked Harry out. They went on a romantic date to a local
park near campus. He’d bought her an ice cream cone and told her about his
parents, holding her hand and ceaselessly doting on her. By the end of the
night, they had their first kiss at sunset under a willow tree. Picture
perfect.
And Sansa forgot that she was ever friends with any lying backstabbers like
Myranda Royce.
One unintended consequence of the whole thing though was that along with the
picture, the website had a link to Sansa’s various social media. For weeks
Sansa had to ignore her phone as it went off every five seconds, alerting her
to the fact that she had a new follower. As if that that wasn’t annoying
enough, some of those followers would even go through her history and find any
picture where Sansa showed any skin; a day at the pool with friends, pre-gaming
before a night out with the Psi-Chis, even one photo where Sansa was sure she
was only 13 and was wearing tiny little shorts and no bra.
Guys were gross.
Arianne, wise as she was beautiful, gave Sansa the best advice on dealing with
it that didn’t include some form of deleting her Instagram (as Jon, Arya, and
even Harry had all very unhelpfully suggested).
“Just make it your own,” Arianne suggested. “It’s your account, so post
whatever you want. After a while the perverts will leave and the people who
like your stuff will stick around. No one can get mad at you if you just stay
true to yourself Sansa.”
And so she did. Sansa posted far more frequently than she had in months, trying
to drown out the requests for more salacious photos and instead always post
things that she liked. Poems, color patterns, dogs she met on her morning runs
with Jon.
Sometimes she posted pictures of her hands holding a new sheet of fabric or a
finished outfit on one of her sewing dummies, and along the way Sansa found it
easier to take pride in her work. A few times she did post selfies, but they
were always tasteful attempts at art rather than pornography. Arya had actually
been an immense help with that, as she apparently ran all the social media for
her band and had a good understanding of what kinds of pictures garnered more
likes. Whenever Sansa was out of ideas, she just posted pictures of Jon or
Harry when they did gross boy things, so she could shame them later.
After a month though, the followers kept coming, Dany apparently being one of
them.
“Do you mind if we take a photo together?” Dany asked, shimmying the little
bells hanging on her navel in excitement.
 
“Babe, let me take it for you,” Harry answered before Sansa could, taking
Dany’s phone and holding it up. “Put your arm around her babe. Maybe crouch a
little? Cause of your height.”
 
Sansa had told Harry half a hundred times that she felt uncomfortable taking a
picture in her bikini ever since what Myranda did, but she felt too embarrassed
to say anything in front of Dany now. She put her arm around the shorter girl
and tried a sorority squat to bring them at eye-level, even as she felt like an
awkward giant around this perfect tiny embodiment of western femininity. Dany
surprised her though by putting both of her arms around Sansa’s neck, hugging
her so close that their faces were inches apart when the phone gave off a few
clicks. Sansa’s life was truly surreal in that moment.
 
”I’m taking a picture with a literal princess,” she thought. Dany smelled like
berries and cream and her skin was warmer even than Jon’s.
 
“That’s so great, thank you so much!” Dany sang as she took the phone from
Harry. He mentioned something about a picture of the two of them, and suddenly
Sansa had the phone next. She was sure Dany hadn’t planned on that, but she
smiled pleasantly while Harry held her by the hip. His hand lingered there when
Dany took the phone back from Sansa.
 
He was letting go (fucking finally) when suddenly the silver-haired temptress
gripped his bicep for a moment while she re-balanced herself by the edge of the
pool, her attention focused on her phone. Sansa could see how pleased that made
Harry, his hand slipping back around Dany’s waist and even tilting his body
onto her shoulder, though that seemed to throw Dany’s balance off more than
anything.
 
“I uh- I hope it was a good one,” Harry tried to make his voice sound
commanding but it ended up being needful. “I can- um, take a few more if you
need me.”
 
“No, no, these look great,” Dany said before she drew her eyes away from her
phone and to Harry’s bicep. She gave it another playful squeeze before looking
up into his cornflower blue eyes. Harry must have realized how close he was
standing to Daenerys then and it was sort of amusing how flustered he became.
Dany’s hand moved from his bicep to press two fingers to his chest, a feather-
light push.
 
“You’d best be careful when standing so close to a dragon,” Dany said with a
strange, almost dangerous tension in her voice, even as her smile was as sweet
as honey. “You might get burned.”
 
“I can take a little heat,” Harry grunted, his voice all bass.
 
Dany’s dangerous look instantly cracked and she started laughing. Harry’s smile
melted away. Then he blushed like mad, Sansa had ever seen him so red. She felt
pity for her boyfriend until she remembered how self-assured he had looked a
moment earlier. Then she let herself laugh too.
 
She and Dany shared their mean little joke but thankfully Harry just gave a
sheepish chuckle and laughed along after a while. He moved back from Dany
though, he understood that much. Once the girl had some breathing room again,
she looked to Sansa.
 
“This is going to sound sudden, but I don’t- I’ve only been in Westeros a few
months and I haven’t made a lot of friends. That is to say, most of my friends
are old men who work for my family’s company or volunteers from my charities-
gah, I’m rambling again.” Before Dany continued, she took Sansa’s hands into
her own.
 
“I haven’t had the chance to make friends my own age, really. Would it be
alright if I- if we had coffee sometime? I know we don’t know each other, not
really, but I have a good sense about people. I feel like we could be close.”
 
Now Sansa blushed. “I would like that.”
 
“Oh good, that makes me so happy Sansa, truly.” Dany hugged Sansa then, her
head fitting perfectly under Sansa’s neck.
 
Arianne’s sunglasses were sliding down her nose as she stared. Gilly and Sam
were both smiling, but Sam was vibrating a little. Harry looked like his head
was going to explode at the sight of them hugging. Even Sansa blushed when she
realized she could feel Dany’s breasts squishing against her belly. Her skin
did feel quite lovely, Sansa thought.
 
And Sansa found herself more and more excited by the idea of becoming friends
with this strange woman. Dany reminded her a bit of Margaery; gorgeous and
completely aware of how men worshipped her beauty, strong to the point of
almost similar masculine arrogance, and yet sweet as a sundae despite all of
that.
 
Plus, Sansa knew Dany’s dirty secrets having read the tabloids all of last
year. Sansa had followed the princess’s troubled, media-filtered relationship
with the notorious captain of the Stormcrow crime family for weeks. When Daario
Nahaaris finally broke it off with the lost Targaryen princess, and started
sleeping with the pop singer Green Grace instead, reporters said the princess
was devastated before she hit him with her car. With so much of her dirty
laundry in the public eye, Sansa might have to worry about Dany being a
dangerous sort of friend… but not a deceitful one.
 
“Sansa! Thank gods, there you are!”
 
Arya suddenly appeared next to Sansa’s hip, startling her and Dany both. Arya
was still in her swimsuit, an eye-catching but tame navy-blue bandeau with
matching bottoms. One string on the bottoms was a bungee cord instead of
fabric, to create a lopsided but interesting color difference that Sansa
fashion-approved. Arya’s hair was up in two tight pigtail buns and she was
sporting some round frame sunglasses. Her toothy grin completed the picture of
‘teenage fun in the sun’ in Sansa’s mind. Dany looked charmed by Arya already.
 
“Sansa, have you seen Jon around?” Arya asked as she darted her head back and
forth.
 
“No.” Sansa hoped Arya didn’t embarrass her. “Why would Jon be after you,
Arya?”
 
“I pushed him into the pool earlier when he was getting dressed, so clearly he
wants his vengeance upon me,” Arya explained in a rapid clip before she noticed
Daenerys. “Who’s this?”
 
“Hi, I’m Dany, nice to meet you,” the silver-haired goddess said to Sansa’s
fairly ordinary sister. Arya was indifferent as she shook Dany’s hand. “Sansa,
is this your sister? She’s so, so adorable, gods, I’m jealous. You’re going to
be quite the beauty one day Arya, I can tell.”
 
“I agree,” Sansa smiled as she patted Arya’s head between her buns.
 
“Hey, wait a fucking minute! You can’t treat me like a ch- AH NooOOo!!”
 
Jon appeared behind Arya like a shadow, barely noticed and completely unheard
until it was too late. One hand grabbed Arya’s bottom by her swimsuit, his
fingers getting a good grip on the bungee strap, while the other hand was
between her shoulder blades, balancing her weight. Jon lifted Arya bodily above
his head, chanting some beastly cry like a wild animal, Arya kicking and
flailing. Jon was just too strong though. He tossed her up into the air, the
bungee cord snapping as Jon let her go. She went sailing in an arc, a gleeful
scream emitting from Arya the whole way down.
 
The splash that followed hit Sansa’s legs and Dany’s back, causing them both to
cry out in surprise. While Sansa felt herself becoming livid at getting wet
(Arianne wasn’t the only one wearing makeup today), Dany held her arms close to
her chest in shock. The carefully composed look of her suit was ruined, one of
the shimmery green straps knocked off her shoulder. Dany was smiling though.
When she opened her eyes and looked at Jon, Sansa saw the exact moment it
happened.
 
The same thing that happened to every fucking woman that met Stupid Sexy Jon
Snow.
 
Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. Her chest hitched, like she’d
forgotten how to breathe for a second. Her tongue snaked out from between her
teeth and ran over her top lip, just for a split-second, like she’d seen some
delicious sweet treat. Her violet eyes, so clear and bright before, seemed
almost unrecognizably dark as her pupils blew open to take in the details of
Jon’s body.
 
And Jon was in particularly good form today. Apparently when Arya had pushed
him into the pool, Jon had been wearing a snug white cotton-T that was now
sheer from the water. It clung to his every muscle. His victory cry now
complete, Jon grabbed a corner of the shirt by his hip and pulled, wrapping the
end in his hands like someone would do with a towel, wringing the water out so
it splashed on the ground and over their feet with tepid, Jon-warmed drops.
Sansa’s mind went to wolves and how they marked their territory for some
reason.
 
Jon was still in his swim suit, but Sansa hadn’t noticed it too much before
when he was in the water. They were still old-looking, torn, but they were also
tight without being obscene. More importantly they were low on Jon’s hips,
showing all the muscles there and in his lower stomach. That deep, promising V
drew the eye to the tight outline between his legs.
 
Dany was already hypnotized, but Sansa literally heard the breathy gasp she
emitted when Jon seemed to give up on the shirt and grip the bottom, pulling it
over his head and showing off his triceps as he peeled away the clothing and
exposed the clean carnal wonder of his chest. When the shirt was completely off
and in Jon’s hand, he rolled it up some more before giving it a harsh flick,
the wet snap causing Sansa and Dany to blush.
 
“Sorry about that San,” Jon grinned in that innocent way he had with her and
Arya only. “Didn’t mean to catch you in the crossfire.”
 
“It’s alright Jon,” Sansa replied before clearing her throat. She realized that
Harry was still standing next to her. How long had he been there?
 
“This is Daenerys,” she latched onto for focus. “Daenerys, this is Jon, a…
family friend.”
 
Jon seemed to notice Dany for the first time.
 
And for the first time, Sansa saw it happen to Jon. His pupils went wide and
his posture straightened. He smiled in a way that was different from his usual
sheepish, crooked grin. His eyes, that were usually so clear and compassionate,
became dark and cloudy and dangerous. It was the same look Jon had before he
spanked Arya on Sansa’s birthday.
 
“Good to meet you,” Jon said after a moment. Daenerys took his hand.
 
“Likewise,” Dany exhaled, her former charm returning in fits and bursts. “Jon.
Yes, I recognize you from Sansa’s Instagram. I always thought you were her
boyfriend.”
 
“Nope, that’s me,” Harry chimed in, his tone innocent. It was somehow worse
than if he’d acted jealous.
 
Dany ignored him. “Family friend, huh? So that was your friend you just tossed
like a sack?”
 
Jon gave a heart-breaking smile. “More like a little sister.”
 
“Little? So you admit it? You like picking on little girls?” Dany tilted her
head at Jon like a snake, her smile feral and threatening. “Does it make you
feel like a big man?”
 
Sansa gaped at Dany’s tone but Jon just chuckled. After a while Dany laughed in
return, though that predatory gleam was still in her eyes.
 
“With Arya it’s more about giving her… discipline,” Jon’s voice was playful but
Dany was unimpressed. “If you’re talking about, say, Sansa though? I’d never
pick a fight with her.”
 
“That’s because you know I don’t play fair,” Sansa chimed in, glad to be
included. For a moment Jon turned his strange eager grin on her before he
seemed to realize who he was flirting with.
 
”Just plain old Sansa.”
 
“Why is that?” Dany asked, ignorant of Sansa’s thoughts. “You think Sansa
somehow weaker? What about me? I’ve been told I lack discipline.”
 
“I don’t know you,” Jon rebutted, his attention focused back on Dany. “But as
for Sansa, well, a smart man knows when to pick his battles, especially the
losing ones. If I tried to discipline Sansa, she’d probably ring my bell.”
 
Sansa felt a strange pride at those words but Dany was disappointed by Jon’s
answer. “Pandering can be more insulting than condescension, Jon…?”
 
“Snow.”
 
“Jon Snow.” Dany hummed the name like it was a dirty word.
 
“It’s not pandering. Sansa frightens me often.” He gave Sansa an enticing look
that made her heart fill with butterflies until she realized that Jon was doing
it for Dany’s benefit. “She’s all sweet on the outside but hardened and
dangerous on the inside.” Jon turned his gaze back to Dany. “You strike me as
the opposite.”
 
“There’s nothing soft about me!” Dany exclaimed, the laugh that followed being
equal parts flighty and manic. “You’re a fool for thinking otherwise. A word of
advice Jon Snow. Only little girls are softened by sweet words. A real woman
needs a man.” Dany sneered at Jon like he was a piece of toilet paper stuck to
her shoe, daring to question her.
 
Jon pulled the waistband of his swimsuit out and animatedly looked down at his
own dick.
 
“Last I checked, I am a real man.” Jon was treating this like a game and Dany
was starting to turn red.
 
“A boy pretending to be a man, such a Westerosi cliché,” Dany explained with a
feigned yawn. “A real man acts as if victory is always a given. He doesn’t
avoid confrontation through charm. He feeds on doubt and turns it into
strength.”
 
“Doubt gives me heartburn,” Jon japed.
 
“A real man takes what’s his,” Dany continued, unmoved.
 
“Even women?”
 
“Especially women.”
 
Jon’s smile became a frown then. “Sounds like the men in your life have
something to prove then.”
 
“And you don’t?”
 
“To you? Why would I need to prove myself to you?” Jon’s tone was so strange
and yet familiar to her that it took Sansa a moment to recognize what it was:
pride.
 
“Men are always trying to prove themselves to me,” Dany giggled, the bells on
her bellybutton-piercing tinkling.
 
“I don’t see why,” Jon retorted, causing Dany’s smile to wither. “You’re just
another girl, with blood as red as mine, no matter how cute you might be.”
 
“Cute?” Dany’s voice changed. This wasn’t the excited fangirl that Sansa had
met a moment ago. Her teasing smile was replaced with a hard look.
 
Just like that she was Daenerys Stormborn.
 
“You think men weep and fall to their knees for me simply because I’m cute? Men
lick my heels for a chance of tasting my favor. You would do well to remember
that when addressing me, Jon Snow.”
 
“I won’t be licking anything of yours, if you keep acting like this little
lady,” Jon paused before smiling again. “I’m sorry, that should be little
princess. Is that better?”
 
Jon was treating Daenerys and her strange posturing like a joke, which in some
fucked up way made him seem even hotter in Sansa’s eyes. The more prideful and
crazy Dany acted, the more Jon was unfazed. Sansa thought back to Arya’s
spanking on the coffee table, how she’d kept egging Jon on even as he dominated
her without breaking a sweat. Jon kept refusing to push back against Arya’s
provocations.
 
Until he did.
Did Daenerys know what she was getting into?
 
“If your tongue touched any part of me, I would have it out,” Dany murmured,
willful yet with less fire in her words.
 
“If you desire my tongue on any part of you, you’ll have to ask first,” Jon
replied without missing a beat. “Nicely, with a ‘pretty please’ and a ‘thank
you sir’ after as well.”
 
Dany’s imperious frown finally cracked and soon Sansa recognized the emotional,
sweet girl from before who had loved her color schemes and button-sewing
tutorials. The hard-staring woman who challenged Jon’s manhood was gone as
quickly as she came.
 
“Goodness, you are something, aren’t you?” Dany’s voice sparkled.
 
She placed a hand over Jon’s chest then, shamelessly squeezing there. Jon
looked unclear on what to do at these turn of events but otherwise not
unpleased.
 
Sansa heard a heavy swallow and thought at first that it came from Jon, but his
eyes were level with Dany’s face below his, his features made of ice. The
swallow had come from Harry. Sansa glanced over at him to see that he was just
as hypnotized by what they were witnessing. She glanced down at the white and
red striped board shorts he had worn to the pool. A large, strong column jutted
out from his hips and tented the material.
 
“You have a scar here, mystery man,” Dany sang, stepping closer to Jon and
running a finger over Jon’s eye, the lid fluttering at the girl’s touch.
“Bird attacked me,” Jon shrugged. “A really big one.” Sansa knew the story. It
really was that simple. He reached his hand up to Dany’s hair, softly lifting
the back until the nape of her neck was showing. A circle tattoo was there,
divided in two parts, one dark and one white. Jon pressed a finger there.
“Different kind of scar here.”
 
For some reason this made Dany shiver. Sansa saw goose pimples run up and down
the girl’s arms even as the hot California sun beat down on them. Without
warning Dany pushed away from Jon, looking at him like he had hurt her or
something. Jon just looked sad.
“Dothraki funeral tradition, right?” Jon asked. “Usually for a khal.”
“One for my husband,” Dany nodded. “And one for my son.”
 
They lingered in silence after that. Then Dany shook away her cloud, took Jon’s
hand, and smiled at him.
A week ago, Arianne had invited her cousin Tyene over to the apartment for
dinner, and then later explained that they would be staying the night in Jon’s
room. Together. When Jon found out, his face became the exact shade of alarmed
and aroused that it was in this moment as Daenerys merely looked at him.
 
“Hey, come here.” Dany held Jon’s hand with both of her own, her soft, tiny
fingers looking fragile in his bronzed, calloused grip. “It was nice to meet
you Sansa. I’ll DM you when I post the picture.”
 
Sansa blankly nodded as she watched Daenerys skip away, dragging Jon along
behind her. They made it to the other side of the pool when Dany pressed her
other hand to Jon’s stomach, stroking down his abs before she fell to her
knees, her head at level with his groin. Sansa wasn’t the only one who gasped.
Arya was hanging onto the side of the pool in the water, her hair slicked back
away from her face, her jaw hanging at the sight of them.
 
The girl stood a moment later, causing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief.
She was holding a small golden-colored purse in her hand and pulled a red
marker out. It was a bright, crimson red. She began writing her phone number on
the inside of Jon’s forearm.
 
“The hell? Why didn’t she just put her number in Jon’s phone?” Harry asked,
more to himself than anyone.
“Cause she’s fucking extra Harry, all Targaryens are. Read a book,” Arya japed
unkindly.
 
When Dany finished writing, she said something that none of them could hear but
Jon nodded. They sat together then, on opposite sides of her chair, hip to hip.
Dany pointed at some marks on her arms, Jon running his fingers along her skin
as Dany whispered in his ear. At one point Dany lifted up one of the straps on
her bikini bottom and placed Jon’s hand under it.
 
”They met ten minutes ago,” Sansa was baffled.
“Oh okay,” Arya sighed in relief. “She’s just showing him her tattoos. I
thought for a second Jon was going to go knuckle deep in that girl in front of
everyone.”
 
“Fucking A man, Jon gets all the luck,” Harry groused with an unappealing whine
in his voice. “Is there any hot chick that dude doesn’t immediately bone? Like,
leave some for the rest of us asshole.”
 
Sansa was starting to see red. Thankfully Arya spoke before she could.
 
“Harry’s right, that was totally weird. Usually when Jon hits on girls, they
spend hours talking and talking and talking, blah blah blah about so many
feelings, before Jon even thinks about maybe making the first move.” Arya
chuckled as she crawled out of the pool. “I can’t believe Jon just went for it
like that, it’s so unlike him. That silver-haired chick must be something.”
 
“Her name is Daenerys,” Sansa spoke in a dull tone. “She’s a fan of my pictures
on Instagram.”
 
“She kind of reminds me of this junior from my school who keeps bugging me to
get Jon on Snapchat.”
 
A storm cloud was moving in over Sansa’s head. She looked away from Jon and
Dany to notice Gendry. Everyone else; Sam, Gilly, Arianne, Harry, Arya, even
Sansa herself, was staring at Jon and Dany.
 
All except Gendry. As Arya picked at the wedgie at bottom of her suit, giving
her wet buttcheeks a little pat without even realizing it, Gendry’s eyes roamed
over her body. The most beautiful woman in the world was being felt up by the
most seductive man Sansa had ever met, and Gendry only had eyes for his
girlfriend’s butt, as he should. Arya had confided in Sansa that she sometimes
felt a little self-conscious, like she was too skinny on top and too fat below
the waist, but she had grown to like her body because Gendry said he liked it.
And he clearly, really liked it.
 
That’s what a boyfriend was supposed to do though. He wasn’t supposed to lie
that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen or anything. He was just
supposed to want you. To be filled with desire for you.
 
Dany was leaning her breasts against Jon’s back as she looked down at one of
the stab wounds on his shoulder. Harry looked like he was drooling. When Jon
picked Dany up and set her on his lap, the silver-haired minx laughing
musically after Jon goosed her bottom, Sansa decided she had had enough.
 
She took Harry by the hand. “Honey, I want to go home.”
 
“Now?” Harry looked miffed but then sensed his girlfriend’s distress. “Oh sure,
of course babe, whatever you want.”
 
“You’re leaving already?” Arianne asked, suspicion on her face. For once Sansa
didn’t care. She just couldn’t be here anymore. “I thought we were all going to
do lunch after this? My treat.”
 
“Some other time,” Sansa said. She put on her cover-up and her strappy sandals,
Harry already wearing his shirt and sandals. “Bye everyone!”
 
A general chorus of voices went up. Arya was silent because she was still
distracted by Jon, as usual. Sansa dared a glance. Jon and Dany were doing that
thing that people did after recovering from a moment of passion; the smiling,
the laughing, the comfortable interrupting. Sansa had to look away when she saw
Jon flick at the bells hanging off Dany’s navel, causing her to giggle and
lightheartedly shove at his head.
 
Sansa was tired of seeing happy couples today, she decided.
 
“So, want me to take you home?” Harry asked once they got in his car. Sansa
shook her head before reaching across her seat and placing her hand over
Harry’s suit. He felt warm and he was still half-hard in her palm. She liked
the way he gasped too because Sansa was just as surprised by her behavior.
 
“I was hoping to spend the day inside with you,” Sansa whispered. “Make me feel
good baby…”
 
Sansa put on her best doe-eyed look, not that it mattered. Harry was already
fantasizing about it. She could see that behind his eyes at least. Maybe a few
more whispers like that and Dany would be a flimsy memory in her boyfriend’s
mind.
 
She’d followed Harry to his bed (thankfully he had his own bedroom despite
having three roommates) until the back of his knees hit the mattress. When he
fell back, Sansa ordered him to remove his shirt while she worked the strings
of his swimsuit. They had him naked in good order and Sansa took his manhood
into her hand, playing around with the soft flesh there. Harry didn’t have any
hair, having shaved it all off for water polo, and Sansa thought it made him
look even bigger yet somehow wrong. She imagined tight, dark curls at the base
instead. She took his softness into her mouth to try and get him started.
 
It wasn’t long before he was completely hard, Sansa now having trouble fitting
him in her mouth. He was large, visibly larger than Jon in fact. She wasn’t
quite wet enough yet for such a thick intrusion but she didn’t feel like
directing Harry on how to properly eat her out right now so she went forward.
Sansa ditched her swimsuit, unwrapped her breasts (Harry gave a shiver-inducing
moan at the sight of her) and hoped her saliva would be enough when she lowered
herself down.
 
It was rough and jerky at first. She couldn’t get him all the way inside and
every time Harry tried to help, he just made it worse. He attacked her clit
with his fingers way too much and her nipples not enough. When she finally felt
her thighs touch his, his hardness snugly inside, she’d given a gasp of thanks
that the ordeal was over. Harry enjoyed a cocky little laugh at her expense.
 
She tried to be patient though. Sansa understood how much pride Harry drew from
his size, and she didn’t want to shake that confidence. She endured his groans
about how tight she was, and in truth she liked the way his cock jumped when
she joked about being unable to fit him, but part of her wished that Harry
would have comforted her. Maybe actually help her get more wet, rather than
grinning like a fool with his hands behind his head as she struggled alone.
 
But he made up for it a little. Sansa tried to ride him like she thought was
the right way, but she’d never done it before so she couldn’t seem to make it
feel good. Eventually Harry put his hands around Sansa’s bottom and helped lift
her on every bounce, getting them both to a good, rousing rhythm. She was
thankful for his experience then. When Sansa was close she started to rub her
clit. Harry seemed to sense what she needed so he leaned forward and gripped
her by the face and neck to kiss her. Feeling his tongue snake into her mouth
was just what Sansa required to push herself over the edge.
 
Having gotten hers (as Arianne called it), Sansa was fine with Harry taking the
lead from there. He flipped Sansa onto her back and started thrusting, fast and
hard, enjoying the new wetness from Sansa’s recent orgasm. He was grinding his
pelvis against hers, scraping her clit in just the right way on every other
thrust, that soon Sansa actually felt another orgasm building. She realized
that she’d never had more than one orgasm during sex before and the idea of
achieving such a feat got Sansa excited. She reached down to rub at her clit
again, pressing her other hand against Harry’s broad, sweaty chest so he would
get the hint to move back a bit. She wanted to run her fingers down those
delicious abs of his when she came.
 
He must have misread her intentions though because he did everything wrong. The
long strokes with the harsh banging of their hips, jolting her clit, was the
perfect position. Rather than keep that up though, Harry grabbed Sansa by the
wrists, pinning her arms to his soft leather headboard and yanking her chest
up, tilting her pelvis and making his thrusts shallower. It was impressive that
he could pin her so well, and any other time the rough manhandling might have
sent a thrill up Sansa’s spine… but not now. Not when she was so close!
 
“Oh babe, it’s happening!” Harry whispered, painfully tightening his grip on
Sansa’s wrists as his hips became a blur of motion.
 
Only half of Harry’s length was even thrusting inside her anymore. Sansa would
have argued that this defeated the appeal of that extra-large cock that Harry
was so fond of but she repressed those thoughts and let him finish. She had to
admit, seeing his handsome features become all tense, his nose scrunched up and
his mouth agape in a pathetic wheeze, did send a little quiver into Sansa’s
chest. It just wasn’t enough to get her to a place where she could finish with
him.
 
“Fucking hells… that was amazing,” Harry moaned from between her breasts after
he’d pulled out and removed the condom.
 
Sansa had insisted he wear protection even though she was on the pill. When she
watched Harry come apart, his voice a low groan of surrender, she had wondered
for a moment what that might feel like inside her but that moment of curiosity
was fleeting.
 
“Was it good for you baby?” Harry asked, his tone oh-so loving. Sansa thought
it was kind of pathetic that he had to ask.
 
“Hmm-mmm,” Sansa moaned, knowing this was the perfect response to please Harry.
It was the same moan she always gave him after he’d gone down on her for a
while with little result.
 
“You were wild, I can’t believe you used your mouth,” Harry chuckled. “I almost
popped off right then, you were so good.”
 
”Really? I don’t think I knew what I was doing,” She wondered if Harry knew
that. Maybe he had no idea what a good blowjob was supposed to feel like
either.
 
“Thanks,” Sansa said, unsure of what else to say.
 
Afterwards, when Harry was asleep, his arm wrapped around her and his nose in
her hair, Sansa was… pleased. She honestly couldn’t remember what she’d been so
nervous about. For months, she’d wondered how she would handle being intimate
with a man again, but now that it was over, the whole thing had been a bit…
underwhelming.
 
But Harry was satisfied. He spooned her well, massaging her breasts in soft,
measured movements. His warm chest felt amazing on her back. Maybe he couldn’t
fuck like a sex machine, but Harry’s big bulky body felt unbelievable against
her skin sometimes. Harry started snoring then. Sansa rolled over and ran her
fingers carefully through his perfect, sandy blonde hair so as not to wake him.
His chin was so strong and nicely shaped, and his neck was perfect for kissing.
 
She loved touching him more than anything. She wished she loved being touched
by him half as much.
 
Eventually she fell asleep. 
***** Chapter 6 - Beach Day! (Part 1 of 2) *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa finally gets to the beach and it's perfect! For about ten
     minutes.
Chapter Notes
     Sigh. I had to extend the story length again. Maybe the story will go
     on forever. Oh well. Enjoy!
     This chapter is more plot and fluff than smut, but smut will return,
     I promise.
Seagulls were giving lazy calls for fish. Hundreds of broken seashells were
littered across a sandbar, uncovered for now in the low tide. In the far
distance were storm clouds threatening rain yet they were sluggish and far
away. The air had a heavy, salty taste to it and yet unlike the city humidity,
it refreshed a person’s will to live rather than weakened it.
There were one or two people around, flying kites and enjoying swims, living
that best summer life even now in winter. Otherwise the beach was empty,
returned to a natural state of stillness that made every problem feel
microscopic. It was like this place was where the world would go when it grew
tired of pressing troubles down onto people’s lives. Waves washed away
footprints, the sand becoming smooth and untouched once more, the strands
becoming long strips of unending rebirth.
It was perfect.
Sansa felt herself sink down as she wiggled her pink-painted toes, a frothing
upsurge passing over her ankles and sending healthy chills up and down her bare
legs. Out of habit she pulled on the bottom of her high-belted, crème-white
sundress as a draft brushed up against her bottom. There were green and blue
songbirds printed all over the fabric, giving Sansa’s look a little color. Her
extravagant new sandal wedges that made her legs look ridiculously well-
sculpted were hanging from Sansa’s finger, completing the mental photo that she
had waited months and months to finally achieve.
One of her shoulder straps slipped for a moment, snapping Sansa out of her daze
as she adjusted it for the dozenth time. The dress was beautiful and made Sansa
feel lighter than air, but it was very short and so tight that she couldn’t
wear a bra, so it was normal for the straps to sometimes slip across her skin.
Even though Harry had reassured her dozens of times that no one was getting any
free peeks off this outfit, Sansa sometimes wondered if he only said that so he
could get his own free peeks. She couldn’t fault him for that though. Sansa was
peeking on him constantly as well.
Three months later and Sansa was close to thinking there might be something
real between her and Harry Hardyng. Real and genuine. It wasn’t perfect by any
means, not even close, but it was good. Harry had only become sweeter and more
doting as time went on, and he’d even introduced Sansa to his Aunt Anya (not
really his aunt, but she had raised Harry his whole life) during Thanksgiving.
There had been a brief period around Halloween (“Fuck that Halloween Party,”
Sansa repeated) where she wondered if they could make it long term, but those
fears felt more and more distant by the day.
And the sex…
Well, Harry was improving ”Kind of.”
“You have to get wet, it’s the only way.”
Sansa looked behind her at the sound of Val’s voice. The older woman was
standing away from the shore in her camo shorts and white tank top, uncaring of
the way that the black bra underneath was completely visible. She was rolling
her eyes as Jon stood calve deep in the water, holding his hand out to Jeyne in
a grasping, insistent way.
It was clear that Jeyne desperately wanted to step in but she hadn’t dressed
properly for the occasion at all, wearing a beautiful, flowing maxi-dress that
Sansa never would have been able to pull off. Jeyne had also gathered her hair
up into a bun on top of her head, showing off the blue arrowhead earrings that
her boyfriend Theon (Theon Fucking Greyjoy of all people!) had bought her for
Christmas, as well as the silver half-moon necklace that Arya had bought her
for the holidays as well (though with Gendry’s money).
Sansa and Jeyne Poole had been friends all through elementary, middle, and high
school, and there were times, especially in high school, when people liked to
joke that Jeyne was Sansa’s little sidekick. In retrospect they were somewhat
on the mark. Jeyne had always been by Sansa’s side, often dated guys just
because they were friends with Joffrey, joined clubs and sports because Sansa
was in them, and even sometimes picked on Arya because Sansa did too, the
memory of such things hitting Sansa right in the guiltiest part of her heart.
In some ways Jeyne had been Sansa’s true sister growing up, Arya being
considered “one of the boys” with Robb and Jon’s friends, and then later Bran.
After college they had lost touch, Sansa barely thinking of silly, heart-eyed
Jeyne Poole.
Now they could barely hold a conversation for longer than twenty minutes. Worse
(or better?), Arya had apparently reconnected with the girl on a whim, having
invited Jeyne to fly out from Connecticut last year while Sansa was still in
school at King’s Landing. Since then the two had become thick as thieves,
skyping and emailing each other regularly about some TV show with hot
werewolves that they both liked. Apparently, Arya had learned how to charm even
Sansa’s old friends.
For a while it felt a bit like her sister had stolen something from her, but
only at first. When Sansa had shared her feelings of sort-of-abandonment with
Harry, the day before Jeyne was set to fly out from Connecticut, Harry had made
Sansa realize how silly she was being. He’d suggested icing them out until they
apologize, at first, offering a free week-long trip to Pentos as a possible
distraction, courtesy of Ms. Waynwood. Sansa pictured the two of them on black
sand beaches, sipping expensive flower drinks with little umbrellas. She could
wear a scandalous bikini and Harry even less, then they could peep on each
other all they wanted.
But when the fantasy wore off, Sansa explained that she was not comfortable
with Harry spending so much money on her (at least this early in their
relationship). She also worried that such advice might risk the growing
closeness between her and Arya. Sansa ultimately decided that she was being too
prideful. She could learn to be fine with Arya having Jeyne as a friend.
Jon too.
Jeyne was in a happy relationship now, so Jon didn’t push and Jeyne never
seemed tempted, yet Sansa could see how they still had that closeness that only
came from being intimate. After a few more minutes of teasing debate back and
forth about whether Jeyne would be willing to get her dress wet, Jon tempting
her with promises of fish and coral, he finally gave up and walked back to the
shore.
Only to sweep Jeyne into a bridal carry, Sansa’s childhood playmate intuitively
wrapping her wrists around Jon’s neck and hugging herself to his chest as her
legs gave a floppy kick. She was gasping but also giggling. Jon walked back out
into the water, even deeper now, and started nodding at things for her to
notice. Jeyne was alarmed and sort of hysterical at first, but once it was
clear that there was no risk of Jon dropping her, she freely gazed in wonder.
At one point even leaning back in Jon’s arms until she was almost upside down,
just so she could touch the glass-like surface.
Jon was wearing the dark, navy blue button-down shirt that Sansa had given him,
unbuttoned all the way right now to show off that chest everyone loved so much,
and attractive white board shorts. After seeing his closet filled with nothing
but black jeans, slacks, and workout shorts for months (and his one pair of
salmon “party shorts” as Arya called them) she knew she had to expand Jon’s
wardrobe. The white shorts, a couple of striped ones as well, the button downs,
stylish tees, a watch, and new socks had made Jon a somehow greater, more
irresistible force of nature, though Sansa’s motives were only for the
appeasement of the fashion gods.
For the fashion gods had rewarded her handsomely as of late.
Sansa’s Instagram continued to blow up, having reached 20,000 followers by
Halloween, and more and more people were starting to notice. When an article
was written about it (along with four other “Must-Follow Cali Girls”) in the
online format of Monthly Maiden magazine. Sansa’s numbers more than doubled to
50,000 after that. Even Arya admitted that it was becoming a real thing when
mother mentioned it on their weekly phone call. Catelyn Stark didn’t have an
Instagram, but apparently one of her assistants who did had shown Sansa’s
pictures to her.
Then when it seemed like Sansa couldn’t get any luckier, a high-end clothing
store called Lady Shella’s contacted her about starting an advertising deal
with them. There were a lot of little details and specifics about SEO
strategies that Sansa had had to learn, but essentially, they wanted her to
promote their clothes to her followers. Even though Sansa had put a moratorium
on selfies at the time, part of the deal was that they would need her to wear
the clothes and model them in pictures. They even encouraged her to retouch
them as she saw fit, so as long as she made clear that any alterations were
made by her and her alone. The money they offered was fine, enough that Sansa
didn’t have to work at the gym anymore, but the real prize was the clothing.
Because these were real deal designer clothes, made of expensive fabrics and
expert craftsmanship, all now regularly delivered to Sansa’s doorstep, free of
charge. She could keep and wear them forever. As in, until the day she died.
Suddenly all Sansa ever posted was selfies. (As an added bonus, they also sent
Sansa men’s clothes, also for free, so she got a lot of Christmas shopping done
ahead of schedule.)
She was so absurdly proud of herself that she wanted to boast about it to
anyone and everyone who would listen, even Harry’s family at Thanksgiving.
Thankfully Harry deflated her head a bit before she made a fool of herself. His
aunt, Anya Waynwood, was a millionaire philanthropist who regularly helped
human trafficking victims with her dozens of organizations and charities. Her
husband had been the Attorney General before he died. Her sons were doctors and
lawyers and politicians and… well, Harry.
Sansa’s Instagram was just pictures of her wearing denim jackets and high-
waisted slacks that Arya sometimes helped her with for internet clicks.
A shriek flipped Sansa’s mind back to the present. Jon was pretending to drop
Jeyne but then immediately stabilizing again, repeating his “hilarious” joke a
few more times for good measure. Jeyne slapped his bare chest with wet hands,
but there was nothing serious behind it. Jon eventually walked her back to the
shore, giving Jeyne a playful swat on the butt once she was back to standing.
Jeyne returned the favor to Jon’s butt, much to his scandalized blush.
Val rolled her eyes at the whole thing. She was always doing that it seemed
like. Sansa didn’t think it was jealousy, yet she couldn’t understand what else
it could be. Val was one of those, “I don’t need a man,” type women, yet she
gave wise and balanced advice to Arya and Sansa about dating and sex whenever
they asked. Jealous girls tended to always blame other girls for boys’ bad
behavior, but Val was consistently quick to defend women first in all
situations.
Except for Daenerys.
On the drive to the pier, Jon and Dany had been in the front seat of Jon’s car
while Val, Arya, and Sansa sat in the back. It was an hour-long drive that
started at 5 A.M., so Arya was getting a strategic cat nap in, her head lying
on Sansa’s shoulder. A puddle of drool was developing on Sansa’s boob at one
point, yet the sight was so precious that Sansa wouldn’t have moved for
anything in the entire world.
She had been debating brushing some of Arya’s freshly dyed hair away from her
face (a purple ombre on the edges now instead of blue) when Val gave a groan of
disgust. Sansa glanced over in question and Val answered by nodding her chin at
the front seat.
Jon’s driving was usually fine, but it was especially impressive in that moment
as Dany was being quite the active distraction. The silver-haired goddess was
leaning over in her seat, her head by Jon’s shoulder while her fingers played
around his thigh. She was whispering something when she started to draw his fly
down but Jon seemed unfazed. Only when her tongue snuck out to run against the
shell of his ear did the car jerk for a second. Dany moved back from him then,
a feline satisfaction on her face.
“Doesn’t she know how unsafe that is?” Val had groused.
“You’re telling me you’ve never been that way with a boy?” Sansa defended, Val
blushing at the accusation. “She’s not giving him road head for goodness sake.
She just wants to touch him.”
“She’s obsessed with him.”
“They’re in their honeymoon phase,” Sansa chided. “Let them enjoy it. Once they
say I love you, and the relationship gets serious-”
Val scoffed then. “Sansa, if you think that silver-haired nymph is capable of
having a serious, adult relationship, then you’re somehow even more naïve than
you look.”
Sansa had steamed about that for the rest of the ride, though Val looked a
little guilty about her words at least. When they all got to the pier, Gendry
having driven there with Jeyne and Harry taking his own car from his apartment,
the group had split in half. Sansa wanted to go to the beach, of course, but
for some (Arya) the pier had rides and games and cute little tourist trap
stores to be explored. After some deliberation, it was decided that Sansa,
Harry, Dany, and Jeyne would go see the water, while Jon, Arya, Gendry, and Val
would enjoy the pier attractions. That was fine with Sansa, but at the last
minute Dany had other thoughts.
“I actually think I’m going to skip out on the beach today,” Dany announced,
turning to Jon and running a finger over his shaven face (Dany said Jon was
more handsome without the scruff, despite Sansa’s vehement protests). “Switch
with me Jon?”
“Sure thing. I guess then I-” but before Jon could finish, Harry had
inexplicably perked up.
“You know what? I’m not feeling the beach today either. Babe, want to switch
with me?”
Sansa was confused for a moment then mortified. Arya rolled her eyes and Val
full-on laughed, causing Harry to frown in worry. Dany looked a little bothered
but Jon just smiled. He always smiled whenever Harry put his foot in his mouth
like that. For a while Sansa had thought Jon was making fun of him, but she
felt she knew better now. Jon just thought of Harry as a kid because he was
Sansa’s age.
Sansa remembered smiling over the shaky, frustrated sigh she had been fighting
to repress. When Harry tried, he could be the sweetest, most romantic man in
the world… but he tended to try less and less recently.
“Honey, I’m one of the ones going to the beach,” Sansa explained. Harry still
looked confused though. “I… you don’t have to go to the beach if you don’t
want, but you’ll need to switch with someone else.”
”OR! Stop being an idiot and walk along the beach with me so we can watch the
sunrise together like WE TALKED ABOUT!”
Harry missed his chance. Whether it was out of guilt or some other inscrutable
quality that Sansa couldn’t comprehend, Val wrapped an arm around her shoulders
and gave Harry the biggest “fuck-off” look that she could muster. Normally
Sansa would have felt a little bad about that, but for a split second her
frustration with Harry had overtaken her sense. She let herself enjoy the way
Val’s cop-stare made Harry dither.
“I’ll trade with you Harrold. We’ll make it a girls’ day at the beach.”
“But Jon is joining us,” Sansa had chimed in.
“Yeah, well, Jon is practically a girl,” Val joked, though her tone wasn’t
gentle. “At least when compared to this hunk of masculine body butter, right
Harrold?”
Val’s smile was poisonous, and Sansa was about to warn Harry that she was
mocking him, but he took the bait eagerly and smiled a cocky sneer before
shouting, “DAMN Jon! Val is calling you out!! Yo Dany, you gonna defend your
boy or what?”
Harry was too busy chuckling and watching Dany’s mildly entertained eye-roll to
notice the silence from everyone else. That memory of that moment would forever
torment Sansa’s soul.
Arya then loudly declared they would split up, eying Gendry and how visibly
uncomfortable he was acting. Sansa could sympathize with that. She
perfunctorily pecked Harry on the cheek before he could say anything to her,
then grabbed Jeyne’s hand to drag her along. The last Sansa saw, Harry was
putting his arm around Dany, still making jokes about Jon. Not a care in the
world.
Sansa was kind of glad that Harry wasn’t here.
Val and Jeyne seemed engrossed in conversation about something, so Sansa
hurried her steps to join Jon now. He had walked ahead of her at that point,
his hands in his pockets as the breeze played with the ends of his open shirt.
He’d laced his sneakers together, hanging them over one shoulder, his bare feet
currently sinking into the sand like Sansa’s moments before. When he saw her
approaching, Jon smiled, the sunlight behind his head cresting over the horizon
to give him a golden silhouette.
It was like a painting.
“Sorry your girlfriend ditched you,” Sansa started then regretted. If Dany had
ditched Jon, then Harry most definitely ditched her as well. Thankfully Jon was
too nice to draw the comparison.
“It’s my fault really,” Jon shrugged. “Yesterday I suggested Dany work on
getting closer to Arya. She correctly saw this as an opportunity to do just
that.”
Sansa was a little shocked. “Wow, throwing Dany into the wolf den. You think
she’s ready for Arya?”
It was mostly a joke but Jon answered seriously. “It’s time. If Dany is
sticking around, then she and Arya are going to have to start building a
relationship with each other.”
Now Sansa was truly speechless. Jon and Dany had been together for less than
six weeks and were still openly having sex with other people (sometimes
together and sometimes not, but always with the other’s express permission
first). Sansa had yet to see them on one date that wasn’t part of some weird
roleplay scenario, and though Dany tended to drag Jon to a lot of fun parties,
Sansa couldn’t imagine them spending a quiet night in.
”They’re hot for each other, but not warm to each other.”
After Arianne left San Francisco once more for her job, Sansa had sort of
assumed that Dany would take her place in the group as Jon’s more sex-crazed,
sociable caller. More like Zei or Wylla and less Mya or Jeyne. This was the
first time that Jon had ever spoken about a girl like this though. He sounded
so serious, his voice bold and honest rather than its usual flowing, relaxed
manner. Sansa couldn’t help but think of what Val said about Daenerys in the
car.
The suspicious woman in question was still talking to Jeyne, though now
animatedly telling a story that seemed to have ensorcelled Sansa’s old friend.
They didn’t even notice Jon and Sansa walking further and further away from
them.
“How did you and Jeyne become lovers?” Sansa asked, childishly delighted at the
mild shock that Jon had at the word.
Jon seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything at first. He glanced back at
Jeyne two or three times as if worried about them overhearing. When he spoke
again, Sansa focused on his eyes. She could see the the clarity and focus
there. Sansa had forgotten how refreshing genuine honesty could taste.
“Last year she came and visited Arya for a week. I didn’t even see her for the
first four days.” Jon shrugged. “I was busy with classes and Arya was trying to
impress Jeyne with the city a bit, I think.”
Jon took Sansa’s wrist into his hand then, just for a moment, to help her jump
over a huge hole in the sand that she had missed due to the water. Her stomach
flipped up into her heart as Jon lifted her a little into the hurdle, her feet
landing in the wet sand with a naked slap.
It felt a bit like dancing.
“But then?” Sansa asked, sliding Jon’s hand from her wrist and into her palm.
“But then…” Jon became a little red even as his expression remained unchanged.
“One night, Arya was busy after school and Jeyne and I were alone in the
apartment and I- I wasn’t…” Jon seemed to realize he was holding onto Sansa’s
hand, letting it go so he could rub his neck.
Sansa felt strange too, so she linked her fingers together behind her back to
keep from fidgeting.
“I told her I’d always liked her. She was my favorite of your friends growing
up, though admittedly that wasn’t saying much. She apologized for… something, I
forget, and I mentioned how we weren’t kids anymore so it didn’t matter. That
somehow became me telling her how pretty she was and… I-I don’t really know how
it happened,” Jon chuckled to cover up the slight change in his voice.
“I have an idea,” Sansa smiled.
Jon didn’t seem done telling the story though.
“Whenever you had a sleepover, Jeyne would always wake up early in the morning
while the rest of your friends were still crashing until noon.” Sansa agreed
that that sounded accurate. “And she would come up to the attic and find me
there, alone usually, probably playing with some video game or something. She
never… questioned who I was or why I was there. She just asked to join me and
then we would play together. No one ever asked me questions like that, really.
She’s… Jeyne was one of the only people who treated me like I was a real
Stark.”
A gust brushed some strands of hair into Sansa’s eyes. She brushed it away and
found herself feeling strangely drawn to Jon’s voice. Like they were finally
alone and away from the world, free to finally start speaking openly in this
in-between place of reality and unreal. Sansa was dragging her toes through the
sand on each step, slowing their stride. She and Jon were eventually at a
sedate, relaxed pace when she spoke.
“I think part of the reason I was such an emotional teenager was because of
Jeyne. I always knew I had her in my corner,” Sansa started. “She would tell me
I was right even if I was wrong. Tell me I was smart even when I was being
dumb. Tell me I was beautiful when I felt anything but.”
Harry would have interjected then to say how beautiful she was, for now and
forever, but Jon was too busy looking at Jeyne. At that moment she gave a long,
gut-busting laugh at whatever Val had said.
“She’s just sweet,” Jon added. “Underneath all those layers of doubt and self-
deprecation, she’s a good person. Strong too. So much so that it makes you… it
makes you want to be a little stronger too.” Jon smiled that crooked smile
then. “Kind of like someone else I know.”
Sansa worried for a moment that she might have heatstroke.
“Well, that’s fine, you two had a previous bond, I get that.” Sansa bounced in
her steps a little, her nerves ratcheting up. “I doubt that all your stories
about your callers are that sweet.”
Rather than act offended, Jon laughed at himself. Sansa knew that had to be
Dany’s influence. Harry would have laughed at himself too, but only after he
gave Sansa a look that showed how he really felt, so he could quietly moan
about it to her later when they were alone. She didn’t know when or where Dany
could have taken the time to temper Jon’s ego so much, but then like a light
flipping on, she remembered the night that she and Harry never spoke of, at
Harry’s insistence.
Before Thanksgiving, when Arya was staying over at Gendry’s for the night,
Harry had slept over at the apartment for the first time. At first it was sweet
and nice, Harry spooning her and surprising her with kisses to the neck at
random moments. But they both went still when they started to hear Jon and
Dany’s moans through the wall.
Even then Sansa noticed how the sounds were different from all the other times
she’d heard Jon and Dany, but she couldn’t pinpoint the why. Instead of the
extravagant shrieks and violent bangs, there was just a soft tapping of Jon’s
headboard on the wall. Instead of the dirty wordplay that Dany always loudly
pleaded at Jon with, Sansa heard quiet, encouraging whispers. The most
startling part though was Jon. Normally prone to shouting and groaning,
followed by uncivilized grunts that made Sansa’s body thrum with shameful
desire, this night Jon was almost silent.
Harry described it as sounding tame, joking that poor Daenerys Targaryen needed
a man who knew what he was doing. Sansa started to ask who Harry might suggest,
when he interrupted to ask if she heard them going at it often. Sansa quietly
nodded, and Harry took that to mean that Jon was often disappointing the women
he brought home. Sansa was trying to correct him on that, feeling a need to
Jon’s bedroom skills, when Harry abruptly rolled over, caressing her nipples
through her satin sleep shirt. She forgot all about Jon and Dany then.
When they were done, Sansa was gasping and giddy over the record breaking three
orgasms that Harry had just given her. The dull ache below her legs sent
shivers all over her chest, and Sansa could keep riding those shockwaves of
pleasure by teasing her breasts with her hands. Harry was deliciously sweaty
too, having worked himself into a real lather from being so filled with desire
for her.
For the first time they didn’t cuddle after sex but it was okay. Really. Sansa
wanted to be left alone with her afterglow and Harry had apparently pushed
himself too far, claiming that he was done for the rest of the night. He
eventually fell asleep after he stopped panting and gasping but Sansa still
felt energized.
Only then did she notice that Jon and Dany were still going at it. Rather than
blush at the implication though, Sansa’s curiosity made her listen closer.
At the time Sansa had imagined a dozen scenarios of gags, tape, or maybe just
pillow play that could explain the muffled sounds, but the mystery had never
been solved. Until now.
The sounds were different because Jon and Dany were making love.
“You’re right,” Jon sighed. “A lot of women that I’ve had sex with, especially
before Arya moved in, was exactly what you’re thinking. Just the same story,
over and over. Two needful forces drawing into each other trying to feel
something other than emptiness, even if for just a moment.”
It was a certainly a poetic way of describing a one-night stand, Sansa thought.
“That and some girls are just built a bit more… amorous than others…”
”There it is.
“But some of them?” Jon added. “The ones that linger with me? The women who I
still think about sometimes and will probably still reminisce about one day
when I’m old and gray? Those stories, those people… they always have a way of
sticking with me, changing me, if only a little. Because we know what we shared
was different and surprised us. That it was deeper than just sex, if only for a
brief flash.”
Sansa thought of the way Jon treated Mya, so softly and patiently.
The way he treated Jeyne. Daenerys.
The way he was treating Sansa now.
“Tell me some of those stories,” Sansa asked without thinking.
Jon gave a light chuckle. “Really? You want to hear? You know I mean my- what
do you and Arya call them? My ‘callers’?”
“I call them that, Arya just uses fuck buddies.” Sansa gagged at the word,
causing Jon to laugh. “But yes, I’d really like to hear some of those stories.
The ones that you think I’d like at least.”
“Well… I guess if you put it like that.” Jon raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
“Be warned, Arya says once I start talking about girls, I can be a bit hard to
stop.”
This time Sansa took Jon’s hand and interlocked their fingers, to let him know
that it wasn’t a mistake or some thoughtless kindness that she gave to just
anyone. She wanted it. She wanted the feel of his rough calloused palm
scratching the ridges of her skin and the heat of his long fingers between
hers. The Claddagh ring on her fourth finger tapped softly against the chevron-
stacked mid-ring on her middle finger as she squeezed.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
So they walked, Sansa listening as Jon told her about some of his more romantic
memories. Stories about all the times he’d accidentally fallen a little more in
love with a girl than he’d expected. How sometimes when their time ended, he’d
wished it hadn’t, looking for any excuse to keep the girl around. How he
sometimes regretted not being brave enough to say something, anything, that
might have made her think their feelings were more than just a fluke.
When he was out of those stories, he just talked about the love he had for his
friends, having particularly sweet things to say about Sam, Pyp, and Grenn.
Then he talked about Robb and Father. Winterfell. He spent a particularly long
time talking about the diner that was two blocks from their old high school,
and Sansa could tell the place only had good memories for him. Jon even
mentioned how he wanted to adopt a dog but didn’t think he had the time to take
care of it, and so just for fun, he and Sansa spent twenty minutes discussing
possible names for this hypothetical, future pet.
Then Jon talked about Ygritte.
Jeyne and Val interrupted around that time, explaining that they were tired of
walking the beach. Val suggested they find the others but Sansa was still
enjoying the salt air, and Jon surprisingly agreed. He declared that he had an
idea before leaving, causing Val to smile in a knowing way, though she didn’t
give Jeyne and Sansa any hints.
Jon came back half an hour later with two rented bicycles, suggesting that they
ride along the cement path that adjoined the beach and see the entire
shoreline. Jeyne and Val were agreeable but Sansa could have kissed him for the
idea.
Jeyne’s dress was long enough that she could balance on the back of Val’s seat,
facing the opposite direction, without too much problem. That’s when Sansa
realized her error. She looked down at her legs and pulled on the hem of her
little sundress in worry. Especially on a bike, Sansa couldn’t be sure she
wouldn’t embarrass herself.
Jon tried solving that problem by instructing Sansa on how to properly sit on
handlebars, and it worked well at first, but they had to stop after a few
minutes when she felt the cotton of her underwear get stuck and then yank
painfully after an unforgiving bump.
They changed it up and decided Sansa would sit on the bike seat instead like
Jeyne, though with her knees locked and legs folded to the side instead of the
back. Sansa had to keep her knees up slightly, a tight position to stay in for
too long, but then she also didn’t have to stand and pedal like Jon. At one
point a bump made her lose her balance, and Sansa instinctively grabbed onto
Jon’s center, her face pressed into his back. She felt the muscles there
tighten and move along with Jon’s efforts and closed her eyes at the oddly
comforting motions. Even when she stopped that madness, she kept her arms
wrapped around his middle. Just to be safe.
Occasionally, right about when Sansa’s core would start to feel too tired from
lifting her legs, Jon would stop and point at some animal or plant, offering
for Sansa to hop off and investigate. Jeyne would usually join her while he and
Val stayed with the bikes.
The fourth time they did that, Sansa mis-stepped and the back of her dress
yanked up on the bike seat, showing off her wedgie to everyone in a 5-mile
radius, a rush of cool, humid hair embracing her skin. Sansa quickly fixed
herself and turned on Jon, ready to scold him for looking. Instead she found
him standing straight, his eyes pointed directly up in the air. That was better
and yet somehow also worse.
She and Jeyne were alone, crouched in front of a hermit crab that Jon had
picked out of the sand, when Jeyne snickered.
“Hey, how did we end up on a double date?” She asked Sansa. “And why is my date
a girl?”
They shared some titters like high school girls over that and it felt lovely.
She glanced at Jon, leaning over his handlebars while Val lazily glided in
circles around him. He tried to trip her up a couple of times, only for Val to
weave away at the last second. When he did it a third time, she just let her
front wheel hit his shin. Jon griped and hissed in pain while Val stopped and
sort of slapped his back and hugged him at the same time.
“Maybe he was always like this?” Jeyne continued, seeing how Sansa was staring.
“And maybe we were just too young to see it?”
“I’m only six months older than I was when I moved in, and I feel like I’m just
seeing it,” Sansa countered.
Jeyne pursed her lips in thought. “Maybe he’s just more confident now. Because
of Daenerys? That can make a difference.”
“Maybe…” Sansa agreed, feeling like maybe she could be as honest with Jeyne now
as she was when they were children. “I guess I kind of assumed girls were just
into him for his looks, but he can actually be really fun in a weird way. He’s
patient and open and… and gentle, if you’re persistent enough to make him show
it. I thought the only things Jon liked doing were sex, reading, and drinking
coffee. But today… it’s like I’m seeing this whole other, romantic side to
him.”
Jeyne raised an eyebrow. “Well, that makes sense…” She paused until Sansa
nodded at her to continue. “He’s like, your brother after all.”
”Riiiiiggggghhhht…”
“What was he like before?” Sansa asked. “When you first got together, what
attracted you?”
Jeyne looked puzzled by the question. “He was a handsome older guy.”
“So it’s just that? A fling.” Sansa bumped Jeyne with her shoulder a little.
“Nothing more?”
Jeyne smiled a secret little smile. “Well… he was the first guy I ever felt
safe with after it happened.”
“After what happened?”
“Sansa…”
Jeyne looked embarrassed but also irritated at Sansa’s question. Like she
didn’t want to talk about it but knew she would have to. She was struggling to
get the words out and that’s when Sansa knew.
Sansa felt very much like she did when she discovered that Santa wasn’t real.
That is to say, she felt so sad knowing that a perfect and innocent part of her
life was revealed to be a lie that she had held onto for probably too long.
Jeyne was part of Sansa’s Winterfell past, when life had been high school drama
and being the princess of the Stark family. The innocent Before times. Jeyne
was supposed to be safe by staying behind in that world.
Yet someone had hurt her too.
“Jeyne, I didn’t know…”
“It’s alright.” Jeyne flicked her finger at a mollusk to make it move.
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help you. If you tell me his name,
I’ll have my mother-”
“Sansa stop,” Jeyne scolded. “Jon always made sure my trauma was about me, not
about him!”
Sansa swallowed her words.
“I was always in control,” Jeyne added in a self-important tone.
All Sansa could manage to say was, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Jeyne said before smiling again. “Plus he’s just dripping with
that sexy lumberjack appeal.”
“Lumberjack!” Sansa said in realization, grasping onto the change in
conversation. “You’re totally right, he is that!”
“Yeah, only instead of sheep-skin jackets its tight t-shirts and tank tops,”
Jeyne laughed. “Plus you probably get to see that body of his, like, all the
time, right? Does he still insist on sleeping naked?”
“I-I got him to wear underwear at least,” Sansa admitted to Jeyne’s delight. “I
figured there’s no point in making him wear a shirt unless we have company
though. It really does get hot in the apartment. That’s not just an excuse that
he tells girls.”
Jeyne only laughed. “You’re living quite the dream Sansa.”
“Ugh, yeah, a dirty dream.”
Even Sansa was done with the beach by then. Jon texted Arya to regroup at one
of the nearby tacos stands so they could all get some breakfast burritos that
Jon and Arya had been very excited about the whole drive over. For fuel, Val
explained. They returned the bikes and stopped by the bathrooms first though.
Unfortunately, the bathrooms were just outhouses.
Yick.
Sansa used some extra hand sanitizer when she was done, and regrouped with Val
by the bike rental stand. Jon and Jeyne were still gone, so Sansa tried to make
small talk with Val for as long as she could, but it was hard to talk about
anything with Val that wasn’t Arya, drunk feminist theory musings, hunting, or
Jon. And Sansa never felt that Val was trying very hard to connect with her.
“You and Harrold seem to be doing well.”
Sansa perked up. ”Maybe Val approves?”
“We are actually.”
“I like him,” Val nodded. “He seems easy to control.”
“What does that mean?” Sansa sniped, her patience draining quickly.
“I just mean he’s very handsome and very dumb, which is good,” Val went on,
doing nothing to make Sansa feel better and in fact only increasing her
indignation. “When I was your age, I toyed around with all sorts of boys,
boyfriends, even my friends’ boyfriends. It’s the only way to really get what
you want.”
“Which is?” Sansa scoffed.
“Satisfaction.”
Sansa blamed the emotional whiplash for her outburst.
“Oh haha, yes, yes, men are just spongey bags of muscles and blood attached
their dicks that we must seek to dominate, or whatever crazy nonsense you are
trying to project onto me and Arya,” Sansa could have stopped there and it
would have been fine, but it was like all her earlier frustration with Harry
was flaring up right now. “The only problem? I can see how sad and lonely you
really are Val, but Arya doesn’t, so all you’re doing is messing her all up and
teaching her all the wrong lessons! Maybe you should consider that before you
start coming into my life so filled with judgement!”
Val was silent for a long time.
Then it went on even longer than that. Sansa eventually became convinced that
she had dropped dead on the beach and that this eternal awkward standoff with
Val was her divine punishment in some part of the seven hells.
Only a crazy person would laugh in such a situation. So of course, Val started
wildly laughing. Sansa shouldn’t have been surprised, but she even made insane
laughter an attractive look.
When Val finally spoke, it was through chuckling tears.
“Arya was right. You really don’t fight back. But one wrong punch, and you
finish the fight.”
“You always do that!” Sansa hissed even as she felt a surge of strange pride go
through her. “You try to turn the conversation into how close you and Arya
are.”
“Oh, do I do that?” Val hiccupped her laugh a bit. “Yeah, okay, I could see
that. Bitch move on my part maybe. I do care very much for Arya though. She
reminds me of my sister. I guess I let my pride overtake me at times.”
Now Sansa felt fabulously guilty, not just about her strange and humiliating
outburst but also about how she had been thinking of Val for the past six
months. Whatever her motives or feelings, Sansa had no reason to question that
Val cared about Arya. She was trying. She was helping her police officer
partner with the two young women that he had taken under his wing, when she
didn’t have to. Sansa felt jealous of their relationship? So what? Jon had said
it, Arya needed to come first, that’s what mattered.
“Besides, I went after your boyfriend. Wasn’t my place,” Val offered with a
little nod of apology. “You’re smart and strong Sansa. Good or bad, small or
big, venal or noble, your man won’t define you. Only you will do that.”
“I know that,” Sansa sighed. ”She doesn’t mean to be so condescending but
geez.”
“I can have it both ways you know,” Sansa argued. “I’m going to be great and my
boy will be too.”
Val kept eye contact with Sansa in that way that people only did when they were
trying to hide their true reaction. Their true feelings.
“Have you told Jon that?” Val asked. “Or would you rather he just-”
“Jon approves!” Sansa interrupted, not wanting to hear what Val was about to
say.
“Does he?”
The group found them before Sansa could formulate a response. She wanted
desperately to talk to Jon, to find out if Val was right, but her focus was
broken by the sight of Harry and Dany.
She was riding on his back, acting somewhat innocent and playful, if maybe a
little too physically intimate for Sansa’s comfort. That was mostly because of
Dany’s outfit though. She had a fairly standard navy-blue bikini on, but over
that was a perfectly crocheted miniskirt and an off-the-shoulder, green crop-
top that made Dany’s curves look like the first lick from a perfect pour of
soft serve ice cream.
Sometimes Sansa liked it when girls flirted with Harry. He was always so happy
and charming about it, yet also respectful. As a bonus, flirting with other
girls always got him all excited and confident, that energy then transferring
to their intimate times. Seeing him with other girls made Sansa feel like she
was more desirable for having such a desirable boyfriend, even if that was
probably the wrong way of looking at it. It was like Harry was being tested
over and over again with prettier and prettier girls and every time Sansa got
to witness him stay loyal to her. That was satisfaction if Sansa had ever felt
it.
Harry didn’t let Dany off his back or speak to Sansa until they all started
heading to the taco stand. When he finally did put her down, it was only
because she insisted. They kept on talking for a while after though, so Sansa
didn’t interrupt. At one point Harry put his arm around Dany, like he’d done
earlier, but the slight silver-princess squeezed out of his grasp with a
flourish of her miniskirt. She gave Harry an inscrutable look before scurrying
away in her ankle-strap heels. Harry was openly leering at Dany’s ass as the
flowing material of her skirt flipped and flicked with her hips.
Harry was still leering when Dany caught up with Gendry, wrapping her dainty
little arms around his comically beefy bicep. Gendry started blushing and Arya
teased him about it, saying that Dany should give him a little kiss if she
wanted to see him turn really red. Surprisingly Dany did just that, jumping up
to peck Gendry on the lips, to Arya’s amused hoots and cackles.
Sansa saw Harry’s smile melt like curdled milk.
“Is that your boyfriend?”
Sansa turned and was faced with Daenerys Targaryen’s twin. Only this one was
wearing gorgeous, black leather ankle-boots and faded-blue jean shorts, so
ripped up and tiny that the pockets were visible and hanging far past the hems
of the legs. Matching the boots was a black fishnet tank top that would show
everything if it wasn’t for the neon pink bandeau underneath. Her hair was also
much longer than Dany’s, styled into a complicated tiara braid yet still having
enough hair leftover to hang loosely down her back. Sansa finally recognized
the girl from her accent.
”Shit, I haven’t seen her since that fucking Halloween Party.”
“He is a very handsome man, like a storybook knight,” Serenai commented,
waiting to see for Sansa’s reaction. “I am almost jealous.”
“Thank you Serenai.”
Sansa would have been less surprised to see Theon Greyjoy.
“So when did you get here?” she asked in the sweetest possible tone.
“Oh, Arya texted a group of us to meet you all here. It sounded more fun than
my plans.”
Sansa nodded. That made sense and seemed very much like something Arya would
do. She excused herself from Serenai and beelined for her little sister. She
was in the middle of giving Jon a full report when Sansa caught up to them.
Gendry and Dany were a bit behind them, away from earshot, and Sansa noticed
now that Gendry was carrying a teddy bear under the arm that Dany wasn’t
wrapped around.
“So you approve?” Jon asked Arya.
“Oh totally, she’s like the coolest, most badass woman I’ve ever met,” Arya
laughed, brushing her fingers through her ponytail. “And she’s clearly got you
all giddy.”
Jon blushed. “I can’t believe she told you the horse story.”
“What’s the horse story?” Sansa asked.
Jon blushed even more when he noticed Sansa and drifted away mumbling some
excuse about wanting to talk to Gendry. Arya was grinning like a snake so now
Sansa had to know.
“What is it?”
“It’s just the story of Jon and Dany’s first date. First real date anyway,”
Arya tittered. “Jon took her to this guy he knows who owns a horse ranch. They
rode some mares and followed some trails. Dany was crazy into it though,
apparently. She grew up around horses her entire life and almost never gets to
see them, so she got so excited at being around them again that she even
offered to help some of the farm hands break in a new stallion. According to
Dany, Jon was so taken by the sight of her breaking the horse in as she rode it
that he…”
Arya let the silence linger. Sansa wanted to claw her eyes out from the
suspense.
“What happened?” Sansa finally cracked.
“Well the way Dany put it…” Arya was whispering as she took Sansa by the arm
and leaned close. “He was so taken by the sight that he begged her to do the
same thing to him.”
Sansa instantly thought of the night she and Harry had heard them.
Was that before or after Daenerys had broken “in the stallion”? Sansa’s vote
was for after. She also decided that it was time to change the conversation
topic before she embarrassed herself.
“Did you win Gendry that bear?”
Arya grinned a toothy kid’s grin at that. “They have an old-fashioned bb gun
hunting game. Bagged myself 12 fake rabbits and 33 metal ducks.”
The ground had shifted from sand to pavement and now to hardened and lacquered
wood as they stepped onto the pier. The smells of fried fair-food and cheap
chemically created sugar confections caressed Sansa’s nose and made her give a
shaky sigh of desire. Yes, the chaotic senses and smells would serve as a great
distraction today. Sansa already felt her blood pumping, the excitement
bringing her joy back.
“By the way,” Sansa said as she remembered her original reason for wanting to
talk to Arya. “Who are these friends you invited to our beach day?”
“Geez Sansa, you make it sound like an exclusive club or something,” Arya
griped. “It’s just Brea, Talea, Daena, and Serenai. Oh, and also Edric.”
“Edric?” Sansa was alarmed that Arya of all people would invite him. “Isn’t he
your ex-boyfriend? And why would you invite Serenai? Especially after that
fucking Halloween party?”
“Oh, Serenai isn’t so bad,” Arya laughed. “She loves you now that you’re social
media famous. And I think the Halloween Party cooled her off on Jon a little.”
“Or just scared her away,” Sansa mumbled.
“Even hotter- I mean better!” Arya quickly corrected.
“But to invite an ex-boyfriend while Gendry is here, is that a good idea?”
Sansa eyed Gendry, still blushing and listening as Dany prattled on about
something.
Arya rolled her eyes. “Sansa, you worry about your life and I’ll worry about
mine, okay?” It was such a Val thing to say.
“Hey, you can talk to me about this stuff,” Sansa responded. “I would talk to
you about my boy problems.”
“Would you?” Arya doubted.
“Absolutely.”
“You sure?” Arya’s Stark eyes pointed into Sansa’s heart and she couldn’t help
but glance at Harry again.
He was talking to Jon now. They seemed to be friendly… but Sansa could tell
that Jon’s guard was up a little bit. Harry wasn’t guarded at all, he was open
and friendly, almost feverishly friendly in fact. Like he was trying to throw
around as much weight as possible but doing it with a charming smile. He
brushed Jon’s back a lot and punched his arm more than Sansa thought was needed
for regular male bonding. Jon was being pleasant though. Perfunctorily,
pleasantly, pleasant.
“Does Jon like Harry?”
Arya exhaled. “It doesn’t matter Sansa. He’ll never do anything about it. He’ll
never say anything about it. Not unless you ask.”
“Why?” Sansa honestly wondered.
“That’s just the way Jon is,” Arya said. “And to be fair Sansa, you can’t have
it both ways. He can be supportive or he can be honest.”
That cut deeper than Arya had probably meant it.
Sansa found herself before a cash register and a young teenage boy, a little
younger than Arya, bored and waiting for her to order something. Sansa bought a
breakfast burrito and an extra serving of guacamole. She felt she was going to
need the emotional fuel today.
Once she and Arya had ordered they grabbed some tables. Harry finally sat next
to Sansa, but Serenai joined as well. Sansa sat across from Harry while Gendry
sat across from Arya, Serenai on Harry’s other side. Filling out the table next
to Sansa was a young man with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, who Sansa
could only guess was Edric. His attention wasn’t on Arya, or Gendry as Sansa
might have expected, but instead on Serenai. His expression screamed a casual
indifference that could only come from a concerted effort.
”Oh Arya, that’s far too ambitious for your first matchmaking attempt.”
“So babe, how was the beach?” Harry asked, finally pointing his attention in
the right direction.
“A little boring, but the sunrise was neat,” Sansa lied.
Harry nodded and spoke a little bit about the games they had played, careful to
mention amusing anecdotes about Arya and Gendry, but sensibly omitting any
mention of Dany. At one point Harry said something that made even Arya chuckle
a little, but Sansa hadn’t been listening. Her attention had only been on
Serenai the whole time.
Harry’s too.
”I need talk to Jon alone.”
She got her chance later around noon, after they had eaten, when the sun
started getting higher and the air became warmer. Sansa’s legs had started to
feel sweaty and her thighs were starting to chafe, her hands firmly planted
over the back of her sundress. At first she had been fine, walking normally and
uncaring if the wind uncovered her bits a little, but Harry had loudly
commented on her exposed bottom three times in a row, (“As a joke,” he
clarified) so she was done feeling adventurous.
Her feet were in even worse pain than her legs. Sansa considered herself
something of an expert on expensive footwear that put style above comfort, but
the wedges had proven to be a tougher challenge than she’d anticipated. Arya
had wisely worn gray lace-up sneakers, even warning Sansa that the wedges would
be a mistake, so Sansa knew she would get no sympathy there. Sansa could only
watch as Dany skipped around in her comfortable, thick blocky heels, green with
envy.
Everyone was heading to the bumper cars, Jon and Sansa the only ones who opted
out. Jon claimed it was because the cars made him nauseous, but in truth he was
the only one who caught sight of Sansa when she tripped. One of the straps on
her shoes had broken suddenly, causing her to pitch forward and eat it on a
tiny cement bench. She was unharmed if not mortified, when Jon helped her sit
down and checked her ankle, meanwhile Sansa began working on fixing the strap.
His grip felt warm on Sansa’s heel, fingers squeezing around the arch of her
foot and pressing. Sansa was glad for the pressure, otherwise she might have
embarrassed herself by revealing how ticklish she was. She focused on the back
of Jon’s head and his messy long black hair, pulled back into a loose manbun,
to keep from making any involuntary noises.
Jon made sure his back was turned on Sansa while he examined her foot, to avoid
any chance of seeing up her dress at the cute, lacey-blue boyshorts she had
worn for Harry. They were his favorites. He always claimed that the high-cut
bottoms showed off her shapely cheeks in a more subtle and appealing way than a
simple thong or g-string.
“Alright, your ankle is fine,” Jon announced, standing and dusting off his
backside of any dust. “Let me know if you need any other help.”
“Thanks Jon,” Sansa said to his back.
He was stepping away when Sansa hooked a finger through a belt loop in Jon’s
pants.
“Hey, come sit with me a second.”
She felt him pull a little more before turning around, forcing Sansa to let go.
Jon wasn’t really that tall in truth. His body was just so lithe and agile,
giving him the appearance of being taller than he was. Even with the muscles on
top of muscles that came from all his self-defense training, his regular police
training, and whatever extreme sport stuff Val made him do, Jon still looked
more like a swimmer than a bodybuilder. Except those arms. His arms were the
one exception. Those things were just big.
Jon sat on the cement bench next to her then, his legs looking comically
scrunched up when he sat on the hard, low-to-the-ground surface. Sansa had her
legs out straight in front of her, her freshly-shaved gams shining slightly in
the sun, hopefully giving her pale skin a little bit more color. It looked sort
of silly with one foot in a wedge and the other bare, so she kicked the other
one off too. On a strange impulse, Sansa turned and dropped her feet into Jon’s
lap and wiggled her toes.
“Rub,” she ordered. Jon complied.
As he worked, Sansa shifted and felt cold stone scratch against her buttocks,
so she adjusted slightly to make sure she was sitting on the bottom of her
skirt, the thin gossamer barrier being better than nothing. When she was
finished, Sansa thought she spotted Jon eying her legs, but the look was gone
quicker than could be seen and Jon was silently focused on rubbing Sansa’s
feet.
“Does that feel alright?” Jon asked after a while.
Sansa just nodded, not quite trusting her voice yet. When she tried to say
something, nothing came out and she realized she was close to tears. She felt
so stupid and needy and Jon’s hands were so relaxing. The pier was supposed to
be the fun thing they all did together before Arya and Sansa went to
Connecticut for Christmas and left Jon all alone, and here she was roping him
into her stupid boy drama.
Her internal tirade was interrupted when Jon stopped the foot rub to instead
wrap his arm around her shoulders. On instinct Sansa pressed her face into
Jon’s chest, worrying the collar of his shirt with her nose. It smelled like
sand and salt and smokey bonfires and weirwood sap and Sansa’s flowery laundry
detergent and most importantly Jon. Sansa recognized how especially safe she
felt with Jon’s arm around her then. It felt safer than she’d remembered being
in a long time.
“Sansa?” Jon’s voice was like velvet.
“Why don’t you like Harry?” Sansa whispered into Jon’s collar. She thought at
first that he hadn’t heard her, that maybe she could take it back, but then she
felt the long breath that Jon let slide from his chest.
“It’s not that I don’t like him…” Jon answered diffidently.
Sansa sat up, looking into Jon’s eyes. He didn’t waver from her stare.
“So what is it?”
“He just… he should have the chance to tell you himself,” Jon blurted out a
little, but once it was out he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “Whatever I might
think, however I might judge him, what matters is that he makes you happy.”
Sansa nodded, unsure of what to say to that.
“And maybe he’s just made mistakes you know?” Jon continued. “Maybe he’s doing
better now. He’s probably matured since then. And maybe one day he’ll tell you
all about it, and in telling you, you’ll both grow closer and heal and Harry
will… will…”
“He’ll what?”
The look on Jon’s face frightened Sansa. He had given her frightening looks
before, but it was always in the context of sex, either the things that women
liked to do to Jon, or have Jon do to them. Even the way Jon described his
games with Arya, all heated and predatory and arrogant and so unlike the
regular Jon, frightened Sansa less than the look he was giving her now. It was
more passionate, more unwavering, more all-consuming.
For the first time Jon was not dark and unknowable ice… but fire.
“He’ll what Jon?” Sansa asked again.
“He’ll become worthy of you.”
The way Jon said it, his face down and his arm pulling her even closer, Sansa
thought he might kiss her. She turned Jon’s chin toward her face and Jon stared
so intently into her eyes, she could tell that he wasn’t looking for something.
He’d already found it.
“What did Harry do Jon?” Sansa had to know. She had to. It was time.
“Look…” Jon began, lifting his arm from around her shoulder so he could lean
forward with his elbows on his knees, creating a shell with his body over
Sansa’s feet. “You think you need to know because it’s something… villainous,
but it’s not. It’s just… it’s something that came up when I was doing a
background check on him-”
“You what?” Sansa was slightly alarmed by that.
“If it makes you feel any better, I did the same thing with Gendry. And I had
Val do the actual check, I never read any specific information unless something
comes up. I just… I just look if a red flag pops up.”
“And something came up on Harry,” Sansa finished for him.
She thought of the way Val had looked at Harry, with such utter disdain for one
moment before she’d managed to put up her fake smile and even faker
compliments. The pity she’d been trying to hide when she talked to Sansa about
him. Whatever it was, Val knew.
“Sansa, has Harry ever mentioned a woman named Cissy?”
Sansa’s stomach dropped. “Is she…?”
“No, she’s not his mistress or anything,” Jon added quickly to Sansa’s relief.
“She’s just a woman who used to work for Anya Waynwood, Harry’s legal
guardian.”
“I met Ms. Waynwood,” Sansa said. “She was a very nice woman. She made me feel
very welcome in her home. I think she’s a good person, if a bit proud.”
“She may very well be,” Jon reassured Sansa, taking her hand into his. Sansa
was reminded of how he held her hand on the beach and suddenly felt
inexplicably, absurdly better. “Except this woman Cissy… Anya Waynwood fired
her and then immediately put a substantial amount of money into an offshore
account in… in the name of her daughter…”
Sansa didn’t understand.
“The daughter’s name is Alys. She lives in Colorado with her mother. Her grades
are good and her mother seems to do well by her. And she…” Jon struggled to
find the right words. “… and she looks like her father.”
Now Sansa gasped, her hands pulling from Jon’s grip and going over her mouth on
impulse. Harry was the same age as Sansa… and yet he had a daughter? On a woman
who had worked for his Aunt Anya? Sansa asked how old the daughter was, and
when Jon answered 6, Sansa did some quick math. Harry was turning 21 soon, so
he had been 15 at the most, possibly younger when Alys was conceived. Had this
woman preyed upon Harry in some way, violated him and his trust and the trust
of her employer, causing some sort of damage or scar that Sansa had never seen?
That Harry had never shown her?
Then Sansa’s thoughts turned to a darker direction.
“Did he… did he…?” She couldn’t even get it out.
“There’s nothing to say he did, no evidence or records of a complaint,” Jon
explained in a flat tone that Sansa recognized as being his “cop” voice. “Just
the one case where she sued the Waynwoods for child support, but it was later
settled out of court.”
“And that was the red flag Val told you about?” Sansa asked, though she could
already see the answer on Jon’s face. “That wasn’t it, right? A civil lawsuit
about money, that seems like something that the police wouldn’t care that much
about.”
“That was just… I found out about Cissy when I looked deeper into Harry’s
history,” Jon explained, clearly uncomfortable to be sharing this. “I know how
it sounds, but I needed to get a better idea of the situation and the best way
to do that is to see if the perp- if this kind of thing was a one-time mistake
or… or if it’s part of a pattern.”
“Mother help me…” Sansa cried, though even as tears were starting to form, she
felt her disappointment and sadness turning to righteous fury. “Just tell me
Jon, it almost feels cruel to drag it out at this point.”
“I just don’t want to start trouble where there might be none,” Jon pleaded,
reaching for Sansa’s hand again but she shook him off. “He might tell you more
about these things on his own, on his own time. He’ll be able to explain it
better than I could.”
“You mean he’ll paint pretty lies over all the truth,” Sansa snapped, causing
Jon to look somehow even more defeated than Sansa felt. Except now Jon was the
one who didn’t understand.
“I already told him everything,” Sansa explained.
“What?” That snapped Jon out of his guilt spiral. “You mean about… about
Joffrey? About Petyr?”
Sansa nodded, her eyes on the ground as she fussed with the bottom of her dress
with her fingers. This morning, when she stood in front of her mirror and did a
little spin, feeling weightless and beautiful and like everything was going
perfectly, felt like a different time entirely. She wanted that feeling back.
Why hadn’t she just gone along with the lies? Ignorance was truly bliss, like
everyone said.
Jon had tried to protect her from it… but Harry didn’t deserve his protection.
“He knows my deepest, darkest secret, so now I want to know his,” Sansa spoke,
venom dripping from her words.
Jon sighed. This was clearly not what he had wanted.
“That girl he cheated on your friend Myranda with? Saffron?”
“Myranda’s not my friend anymore…” Sansa mumbled unhelpfully.
“Well either way, that girl?” Jon continued. “She’s currently pregnant. And
now, since Harry’s not a minor, she’s suing him directly for child support.
Anya Waynwood has had a team of lawyers fighting it for the past 6 months.”
“Of course they are,” Sansa bitterly spat. “Harry wants his trust protected.”
Now Jon looked confused so Sansa explained. “Harry doesn’t want to be an
Economics major, or any major really. He’s only attending Oldtown because his
aunt threatened to cut him off if he didn’t get at least a bachelor’s degree.
And he doesn’t do all that charity volunteering because he’s a good person, or
even for his resume, which I would understand at least. It’s all just his aunt
telling him what to do.”
“Maybe that’s good.” Jon offered. “She’s trying to put him on the right path.
There’s nothing wrong with letting her.”
“Jon, Harry hates his aunt,” Sansa laughed. “He hates her so much over nothing.
I thought at first it was because of the pressure she puts on him, but the
truth is way lamer.” Sansa still remembered the way Harry explained it to her
in the car, five minutes before they had entered the Waynwood mansion for
Thanksgiving, like he thought that was enough time for Sansa to process
everything. It was probably more convenient for him to do that way, Sansa
reasoned.
“He only does what Ms. Waynwood says because she’s in control of his
inheritance. It used to be Harry would get the money when he turned 18, but
then she moved it to 25 so he would go to college. He does whatever she says to
make sure she doesn’t move it again to 40 or whatever.”
“Oh,” Jon whispered, his hopes for Harry looking properly dashed.
Sansa was a little warmed by Jon’s disappointment. He had really tried. While
Val and Arya were happy to make snappy remarks, Jon had tried to befriend
Harry. Defend him. It wasn’t Jon’s fault that Harry was such a giant tool bag
that Sansa had to keep making excuses for again and again.
“I always tell myself that he’s going to grow up someday, try to be something,”
Sansa continued. “But the truth is, once Harry has access to his trust fund,
he’s probably going to just coast for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t tell me
how much is in there, but Ms. Waynwood implied that it’s enough that Harry
would never have to work a single day in his life.”
“Having money isn’t a crime,” Jon offered lamely.
“It’s not,” Sansa agreed.
“Sansa, I’m really sorry.”
“I only have one last question and you have to be honest with me.” Sansa lifted
her feet off Jon’s lap so she could sit forward, facing Jon. The cement bench
felt uncomfortable against her bare knees but she wanted Jon to look her in the
face when he answered.
“Of course,” Jon nodded. “Just tell me what you want to know.”
Sansa got it then. What Jeyne said at the beach mixed with Arianne’s words in
the bar. It all came together when Sansa remembered what Arya had said to her
the night of Sansa’s birthday freak-out. Even Harry had sort of said it at the
Halloween Party, though Sansa had forgotten because she was always trying to
forget that party.
Jon only did what girls wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. All they had to do
was say the word.
“I want to know,” Sansa started, emphasizing the word so much that she could
actually see Jon’s physical reaction. “Has Harry ever tried to make a pass at
Daenerys?”
“No,” Jon answered too quickly. Then he grimaced. “Yes,” he added. “Kind of.”
“Jon?”
“It’s just… Dany can be confusing sometimes, she's even admitted it. Guys have
trouble understanding when she’s just being playful and when she’s being
serious. I still make the mistake sometimes.” Jon cleared his throat. “She’d
made a comment about-”
“Stop.” Sansa leaned forward then, her forehead pressing into the safety of
Jon’s shoulder. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”
Jon reached a hand around her neck then, his fingers running through her hair,
sending shivers up her spine and down below her waist. Sansa scooted her body
closer to Jon’s for that, until she felt his arm between her breasts, her knees
pushing up against his hip. His unoccupied hand was still open in his lap, so
Sansa took it into her own and squeezed.
“Jon? Want to see something?” Sansa whispered.
She slid Jon’s hand over her leg, stroking it up the smooth, creamy skin that
she had shaved and moisturized for Harry. Her legs were still slippery with
sweat, so Jon’s hand felt nice and course as it moved up her skin like a knife
through butter, until his palm was settled over her hip. She liked how big his
hand felt under her dress. His fingers instinctively grasped onto the delicate
lace of her panties, scratching and pulling in a way that made the fabric rub
at Sansa’s sticky center.
”Shit. How the fuck does Jon always get me so wet?”
“Sansa?” he gasped.
“It’s okay,” Sansa cooed into his ear. “This is what I want.”
That somehow broke Jon even more than the feel of her ass in his hand. He was
shuddering, so Sansa decided she would be the cautious one as she glanced
around for witnesses. The group was still enjoying their bumper cars, and the
one family that was nearby enough to see was too focused on a baby in her
stroller doing something cute. They were fine, Sansa decided. Hiding in plain
sight.
“Jon, I want you to lift up my skirt and look,” Sansa whispered.
He groaned but obeyed, reaching his other hand around Sansa’s other leg, his
hand a fiery brand as it brushed over her knee, Sansa’s tummy aflutter with
desire. This time instead of gripping her bum, his hand drifted to the front of
her dress, lifting the fabric with the one finger. Sansa liked how even now,
Jon was trying to be slow and careful as he exposed her heat to the open air.
When he caught sight of her bare thighs, the soft fabric stretching over the
mound between her legs, his eyes were drunk-looking.
When his thumb fluttered under the fabric, oh-so-close to the skin that was
still sensitive where Sansa had shaved this morning, she gripped Jon’s wrist to
stop him.
Like a flash of lightning his touch was gone from her body. He was on the
opposite edge of the bench now, still turned toward Sansa but also guarded,
like he thought she would jump him at any moment. Or maybe the opposite. Sansa
flattened her dress out a little and sat demurely, legs together and folded
under her bum, as if nothing had happened.
“Sansa, why?” Jon gulped.
“I wore this dress for me,” Sansa started to explain. “I wore it because I feel
pretty in it, so I don’t care if anyone thinks it’s scandalous or too short or-
”
“Sansa,” Jon interrupted. “You are a vision in that dress.”
It felt strange knowing that Jon was saying that, even now after Sansa had said
no to him. After she knew that Jon understood that she didn’t want to have sex
with him. Still, she could understand why he was also confused. She felt a
little confused too.
“The dress is for me,” Sansa explained again. “But the underwear… that was for
Harry.”
“But why…?”
“Because Harry and I are going to have a talk tonight, and I think I already
know how that talk is going to end,” Sansa sighed. “I’m going to see if we can
wait until the end of the day, so I don’t ruin beach day but…” Sansa felt tears
coming up even as she knew this was the right decision. She hated it.
“I just thought one guy should get to see my cute, sexy underwear today.”
“But-”
“And you were being a good guy,” Sansa interrupted. “I’ve never been felt up by
a good guy before, you know? Someone who takes ‘no’ for an answer. It was
nice.”
Jon looked as sad to hear that as Sansa felt to say it.
***** Chapter 7 - Beach Day! (Part 2 of 2) *****
Chapter Summary
     Kind of bumpy in the middle there, but a pretty perfect Beach Day
     overall.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
4:43PM
Sansa took a sip of her coconut water, the semi-sweet liquid washing away the
sugary snack flavors from her mouth. Her feet hurt, her legs were tired, she
had sweat going down her neck, over her back, and probably some in her butt
crack too, but otherwise she felt pretty good. It had been a full and perfect
day of sun, fun, and friends. Picture perfect.
For the most part.
After their talk, she purposely avoided Jon as much as possible, wanting to
make sure that he had an enjoyable time at the beach and didn’t worry about
her. Sansa had tried to spend as much time as possible with Harry, hoping that
she would come to some realization about her boyfriend that would make all her
doubts go away, but life wasn’t a romantic comedy.
Hours earlier everyone had agreed to go to the Haunted House, at Arya’s
insistence, and even though Harry had promised he would hold Sansa’s hand and
protect her, it wasn’t even five minutes when Sansa lost him. She’d been forced
to hold Val and Jeyne’s hands during the especially scary parts instead. When
she got through the house, Arya teasing her about being afraid the whole time,
Sansa was greeted by the sight of Harry comforting Daena, Arya’s high school
friend, as she cried about the panic attack she’d had from some man dressed up
in werewolf makeup. It was very chivalrous of Harry, at least according to
Dany, but Sansa found herself getting exasperated when Daena squeezed Sansa’s
boyfriend so tight that her breasts started spilling out of her tank top
against Harry’s chest.
It seemed Harry had decided at some point that he didn’t want to spend Beach
Day with Sansa, opting instead for the company of Dany and Arya’s friends.
Sansa didn’t want to be jealous or fault him for being friendly, but it didn’t
help her anxieties.
At one point Harry had won a cheap, plastic boa from a strongman game, raising
the comically large hammer over his head and ringing the bell in a showy
display that made Arya’s friends all “oooh” and “ahhh” at him. Sansa would
never wear such a gaudy plastic piece of costuming, yet she became incensed
when Harry draped the boa over Serenai’s shoulders, joking that it matched her
bandeau.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Sansa had muttered to herself. She
didn’t say more though, fearing Val might overhear.
Eventually the day started to wind down, all the rides had been ridden, all the
attractions visited, and the group returned to the beach. Jon showed everyone
how to set up a bonfire, and soon after they were sitting in a circle around
the strange, square structure that Jon had built out of driftwood. Thankfully
Harry sat beside his girlfriend for that at least, even offering Sansa a
Coconut Water that he had bought because he knew she loved it so much.
He had his arm around her shoulders, securing Sansa into his lap and pressing
her back to his chest. Harry’s grip was possessive and his chest felt warmer
than the bonfire, so much of Sansa’s irritation dissipated immediately. When he
started massaging the tension out of her hips and thighs, without going under
her dress, Sansa almost forgot why she was mad at him at all.
Directly across from Sansa and Harry, framed by the fire, were Dany and Jon.
Jon was sitting between Dany’s legs, his back to her chest, her arms wrapped
around his middle. Jon was playing idly with her fingers as they stared into
the flames, Dany whispering into his hair. Occasionally Jon would smile a
little and she would kiss him lightly on the neck. Jon would respond by running
a finger through Dany’s short, silver hair, causing her to shiver and pull him
even tighter to her chest.
Arya and Gendry were to Sansa’s left. Val, Jeyne, and Arya’s friends were
clustered together on Sansa’s right. Edric had gone alone into the water,
standing ankle-deep as he watched the sunset. Sansa had worried about him being
unaccompanied but Arya assured her that he was fine.
“Fucking hells, get a room,” Harry growled, causing Sansa to look away from
Edric’s silhouette to Jon and Dany.
They were still doing their regular thing, teasing and kissing, so Sansa was
confused until she heard a soft thump and looked over at Arya.
The thud was Gendry apparently, falling onto his back in the sand. Arya was on
top of him, her mouth sealed over his, one hand planted firmly on Gendry’s
chest to keep him pinned and the other tickling under his faded t-shirt around
his hip. Arya was making a soft, whimpering noise until Gendry gripped her by
both arms and shook her off. He sat up with a grunt and wiped his face with the
back of his hand before walking away.
Arya was saying something to his back but Gendry just ignored her. The look on
Arya’s face was distressing but it became fury when she heard her friends
giggling and whispering. Sansa’s little sister bared her teeth at them like a
wild animal.
“Shut the fuck up!” She screeched before running after Gendry.
Sansa felt a little guilty, like maybe she should do something to help her
sister, but she noticed that Jon was staying still, even as he watched Arya
leave with a careful eye. If Jon thought she was fine, then Sansa could believe
that too. Maybe a little space would be good.
“Thank the gods we’re not like that, right?” Harry laughed.
“Like what?” Sansa asked, honestly curious.
“Just all dramatic and fighting and bullshit,” Harry explained. “That always
gets old real quick. That’s why I like you so much baby. You’re not like other
girls. You’re low-maintenance.”
Sansa felt herself smile. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone called her
low-maintenance. The opposite in fact. Fussy, stuck-up, stubborn, but never
low-maintenance. Once Jon had floated the idea of going on a camping trip,
until Sansa explained all the things she would need to bring, hair
straighteners and face moisturizers and the like. He and Arya had quickly
dropped the idea.
“How am I low-maintenance?” Sansa asked, shifting away from Harry a bit so she
could look up at his face.
“You know, like not picking fights all the time over nothing. We just have fun
and don’t overthink it,” Harry went on, running a warm hand down Sansa’s leg as
he pulled her in for a kiss. “In fact, I’m thinking of having a little more fun
right now…”
Sansa pressed a finger to his chin.
“What do you mean? We fight plenty.”
“Uh, well sure, but never in like a big blow-up,” Harry said, befuddled by
Sansa’s denial. “Like we annoy each other and shit, but it never gets serious.”
“Annoy each other how?” Sansa asked, now placing her hand on Harry’s chest so
he couldn’t interrupt with another kiss. “And why aren’t we getting serious?
You know it’s possible to have a serious conversation without fighting, right?”
Harry appeared unconvinced. “S-sure Sansa, but like… you’re not like that at
all.”
Now Sansa was the one unconvinced, and Harry could see that from her
expression.
“You’re just different, you know?” Harry started. “Every girl I’ve ever dated
always points out how many mistakes I make, or when I forget things. It’s
always about how I need to be doing better, like I’m not good enough. Like I’m
some slacker screw-up or something. Fuck, if you knew the number of times I’ve
heard that…”
Harry started to laugh, running his hand through his hair and looking off into
the middle distance, remembering. Sansa let him continue, even as she wondered
how the conversation had somehow shifted from him answering her question to
this ramble.
“You though? You accept me for who I am.” This time Harry kissed her on the
forehead. “There are no games, no bullshit, no whiny insecure passive
aggressive comments. You’re just there for me, supporting me, and that will
always mean a lot.”
Sansa felt Harry run his fingers through her hair, playing with the ends as he
brushed some strands lightly around her ear. The sun was a fat, glistening drop
of light in the sky, dripping syrupy sweet warmth around Harry’s head like a
halo. She could feel his chest expanding as he took a deep breath, and she
could feel his manhood starting to swell under her thighs as Harry shifted her
in his lap. His breath felt warm and tickling on her shoulder. He brushed a
thumb over the strap of her sundress and it started to turn Sansa on a little
bit.
But unlike Jon, she could say no.
“If I mean that much to you, maybe you could have shown it more today,” Sansa
responded, batting Harry’s hand away and adjusting the strap.
Harry was surprised but bounced back quickly. “I’m sorry babe. Next time I’ll-”
“Do what?” Sansa interrupted. “Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”
“What?” Harry asked, his gallant charm chipping away to reveal frustration.
“Fine. What am I apologizing for then? You clearly want to say it, so just say
it.”
“You spent the entire day with Daenerys,” Sansa snapped, proud that her tone
wasn’t hesitant or relenting. “Not part of the day, not a few hours or a few
rides, but the whole day. When you weren’t hanging off her every word, you
started flirting with those high school girls-”
“Hey that’s not fair!” Harry almost shouted, lowering his volume at the last
second. “You said-”
“Yes, I know,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it turns me on when you flirt
with other girls, but dammit Harry, you know what turns me on more? When you
flirt with me!”
Sansa felt the words piling up, ready to be unleashed.
“Arya and I are going to Connecticut in three days. Three days! You and I won’t
see each other for two weeks!” Sansa explained, making sure her words were
careful yet still strong. “Don’t you care? Am I allowed to tell my mom that
we’re dating? What happens if this turns out to be a turkey drop or something?
I don’t even know where we stand, and it doesn’t do great things for my
confidence when you won’t even spend these last days with me.”
“I introduced you to my family,” Harry returned, his frustration still there
but lessening.
“Yes, you introduced me to your Aunt Anya,” Sansa nodded. “But I mean come on
Harry, you didn’t do that for me.”
“What does that mean?”
“You didn’t want me to meet your family because you’re taking this relationship
seriously. You did it because you wanted Ms. Waynwood to get off your back
about-” Sansa stopped herself there.
“About what?” Harry asked, his frown growing.
”Your fucking baby mama,” Sansa finished, but she answered, “About you and
Saffron.”
Harry looked confused and ready to question her, but something must have
clicked in his mind. Releasing her from his grip, Harry scooted back and stood,
holding his hand out for Sansa to take so she could stand with him. Her
boyfriend made charming excuses to everyone about wanting to stroll the beach
with Sansa, and once the general cooing was over they started walking.
Sansa spared a glance back at Jon. He was purposely focusing on Dany, trying
not to meddle, like he had done for Arya and Gendry. He was trusting her to
resolve her own problems. For some reason that emboldened Sansa.
“Look babe, I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone but I need to
ask you something,” Harry started after a few minutes. “And you have to promise
not to get mad.”
Sansa couldn’t stop the groan. She felt progressively weary every time Harry
asked questions like that.
“Just say it,” Sansa sighed.
“Did Jon tell you something about me and Dany?”
Sansa stopped in her footsteps. Harry had been holding her hand but she shook
off his grip. When he turned to look at her, his face was without shame. Sansa
however felt more and more embarrassed.
“Maybe he did,” Sansa whispered.
Harry’s reply was immediate. “That FUCKING asshole!”
Sansa jumped back, startled more than scared. Harry was pacing in front of her,
throwing his arms up and down in violent gesticulations that looked both
menacing due of his size and pathetic due to his age. For the first time, the
arrogant, masculine bass of Harry’s voice was replaced by some cloying,
squeaking noise that made Sansa’s entire body clamp up in the opposite of
arousal.
“I fuck up one fucking thing and that guy just has to jump on his chance to
embarrass me!” Harry ranted. “What even the fuck is that guy’s problem anyway?
I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. I should have known he was going to be
a fucking drama queen about this. And I was fucking right. Fuck! FUUUCK!”
“Harry, honey, tell me what’s wrong?” Sansa managed to ask between bouts of
griping.
“Jon is a fucking asshole is what’s wrong,” Harry grumbled, now no longer
raging but still stiff in the shoulders. “You should be careful around him
Sansa, he’s not what he seems. I don’t even get what Dany sees in him.”
That made Sansa snap. “What does it matter what Dany sees in him? What does she
have to do with any of this?”
“You know he’s like, a fucking predator, right?” Harry continued unnoticing of
Sansa’s own anger. “He’s probably gonna fuck all of your friends and all your
sister’s friends and give them all VD, if he hasn’t done the same to your
sister already.”
Sansa laughed as she shook her head, amazed and alarmed at this strange,
resentful side of Harry.
“Oh, and that’s funny to you?” Harry asked.
“I just think it’s interesting that you hold Jon in such a low regard,” Sansa
answered, crossing her arms and staring Harry right back in the face. “You’d
think he’d be your fucking hero, considering how jealous you are of him.”
“What? What the fuck does that mean?”
Like a bolt of lightning Harry was suddenly gone from Sansa’s eyeline and by
her side, gripping her hard by the arms and turning her on the balls of her
feet to look at him. Though Harry had been angry and ranting before, there was
something even more disquieting about the look he gave Sansa now. There was
anger there, but not just that. She saw something cold and unconcerned with her
well-being.
“Did you fuck Jon?” He asked before shaking her slightly. “Huh?”
“No! Did you fuck Daenerys?” Sansa asked, channeling her most inner-bitch.
“Wait, of course you didn’t. She needs a man, not a boy. Dany’s got better
standards than you.”
“And you don’t have any, right?”
The harsh sound of her slap across Harry’s face rang through the air and seemed
to snap them back to their bodies. Whatever evil demons that possessed them
previously were gone, leaving the wreckage for Sansa and Harry to clean up.
Which meant Sansa would have to clean it up. For now though she stayed silent,
wanting to see if Harry would even try to fix this without her helping him.
Sansa realized she didn’t know what Harry would do next. Would he fight for
her? Apologize? Try to make her see his side of things? Did she even know
anything about him?
“Okay… I deserved that,” Harry finally spoke. “I was out of line.”
“You were.”
Harry looked annoyed at Sansa’s response but continued. “Look, I don’t give a
fuck about Jon-”
“Really? Because it seems like you have a lot of opinions-”
“I don’t give a fuck about Jon,” Harry repeated. “And Dany is hot and I like
her, but she’s not my girlfriend, you are. I let my temper get the best of me.
I’m sorry.”
Sansa nodded. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” Harry replied, clearly displeased. “That’s it?”
“Harry, I’m sorry I slapped you, but you still haven’t told me what happened
with you and Daenerys,” Sansa continued, not letting a single drop of pity stop
her anymore. “And you haven’t really apologized for leaving me alone all day.
You should have known that going to the beach was important to me. I’ve been
wanting to see the ocean for months and I couldn’t even experience it with my
boyfriend. You really hurt me Harry, and I don’t think you even realize how
much.”
“Oh Sansa,” Harry chuckled before wrapping her up in a hug. “That’s so silly.”
”Okay, is this dude fucking with me?” Sansa thought as Harry enveloped her in a
barrier of warmth and muscles. She knew for a fact that she had mentioned the
beach on their very first date, and at least a dozen more times after that.
Every time Harry had groused that the beach was such a cliched California thing
to do. When Sansa had informed him about their beach day plans originally, he’d
almost opted out…
…until Dany said she would be there.
“Harry… can I ask you something?”
“Sure baby,” Harry laughed, letting her go and staring at her with such pure
adoration. Sansa would have never guessed that two minutes ago he was ranting
like a child at her over something HE had done wrong.
“Do you know a woman named Cissy?” Sansa asked, wanting to give Harry one last
shot at honesty.
Harry looked confused for a moment. “Uh… not that I can think of. I think
there’s a girl named Cissy in my psych class but… oh wait.”
Sansa watched as he began to realize what she was asking. There was a nervous
energy in the air as Sansa waited for him to speak. Harry seemed to realize
that diverting wasn’t the best course right now, with so many secrets still
being juggled, but he also didn’t explode with the truth like the murderer at
the end of a mystery novel. He watched Sansa cautiously, trying to gauge how
mad she was, which to be fair was a lot.
“She’s no one, okay?” Harry laughed. “I mean, she’s just a part of my past. She
doesn’t mean anything to me now Sansa, I promise.”
“And your daughter?” Sansa whispered, her heart feeling like it was curling up
like a rotted fruit.
“Pshh, you mean the reason my aunt extended my trust deadline?” Harry said with
a hollow laugh. “Yeah, no, that little bastard means even less…”
That’s when the fight really started.
6:17PM
“Hey, can I bum one of those?”
The caramel-apple guy looked startled, glancing around the tucked away corner
below the pier where it looked like many employees took their smoke break.
Assured that Sansa had spoken to him, the guy scrambled to hand her the
cellophane-wrapped packaging, large print reading “Sourleaf” in bold letters on
the top with tiny text at the bottom warning of the health risks. Sansa tapped
one out, glad to see that these were unfiltered, before handing the package
back. He didn’t wait for her to ask for a light.
“Thanks,” Sansa spoke between her teeth as she inhaled.
Once the end caught, Sansa pulled back and nodded, not wanting to encourage the
man any further. Thankfully he seemed to sense that that was going to be the
extent of their interaction, putting his earbuds back in and getting back to
his own life-shortening habits. When Sansa pulled that first drag, it tasted
harsh and grimier than she remembered, yet the familiar cool, relaxing buzz
swept over her shoulders and through her chest, causing her to sigh in
nostalgic bliss.
When Sansa was in high school, some of her friends had pressured her to start
smoking. She was resistant until she heard that Joffrey Baratheon liked to hang
out with the smoker girls after school. Once she started, Sansa had developed a
liking for it. It helped curb her appetite so she could keep her weight down,
it soothed her nerves whenever she was stressed about school, and it gave her
hands something to do when she felt nervous. She’d mostly quit when she
graduated, but smoked a few more times in King’s Landing when she was
particularly drunk.
Right now was all about that illicit pleasure though. After the grueling hour-
long fight with Harry, culminating in her now ex-boyfriend flipping her off as
he peeled away in his car, Sansa had been close to crying, screaming, and
punching someone in the face all at once. Preferably a man. The gods had
blessed her with nicotine instead.
She lifted the cancer stick from her lips, a glossy pink color now on the end,
and exhaled slowly as she remembered all the supposedly good times she had had
with Harry. Looking back, Sansa wondered if Harry had ever made her happy. Yes
he had met her standards of dating; handsome, charming, just the right amount
of old-fashioned, but he’d ended up lacking. When she’d dated Joff, any morsel
of kindness that he could spare her had been enough to keep her sated for
weeks.
Harry never hit her like Joff… but that was probably the best thing she could
say about him right now.
“You want another one?” The man asked, nodding at the stub that Sansa was now
nursing.
“I shouldn’t,” Sansa sighed as she let him light another one for her. This one
tasted even better, until she heard someone call her name and the formerly
sweet taste turned bitter in her mouth.
“Sansa? Is that you?”
Immediately stepping forward and dropping the cigarette behind her, Sansa
clapped her hands together to distract and hopefully dilute any smoke smell
from her fingers. Arya was staring at her like she had grown an extra head on
her head. That’s when Sansa noticed that her sister’s eyes looked red and raw
even as she smiled with mischievous promise.
“I can’t believe it,” Arya continued. “Sansa Stark, goody goody and apple of
her mother’s eye, smoking! A cigarette! For shame…”
Sansa nodded and rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright, you caught me.”
Arya giggled a little bit more at Sansa’s embarrassment while Sansa wished she
hadn’t bothered tossing the cigarette away. If Arya already knew, what was the
point of hiding it? She missed the nicotine right now.
Arya leaned against the wooden post at a 90-degree angle from Sansa, still
chuckling as she stretched her arms above her head, the bottom of her black
tank top riding up to show some skin above the waist of her shorts. Sansa was
sure that Arya would continue to poke fun at her shame but instead she was
silent.
“Where’s Harry?” Arya eventually asked, her face hidden from Sansa’s eye line.
“Harry and I are done,” Sansa answered, surprised and heartened by the fact
that the words came so easy to her.
“Ha, a banner day for the Stark girls then, both of us getting dumped.”
“Hey, I broke up with him!” Sansa flared before she realized what Arya was
saying. “Wait, did Gendry break up with you?”
Arya shrugged, still turned away from Sansa, turning her head when Sansa tried
to approach her. Arya was always a bit shy about showing emotion and this was
no different, yet Sansa worried all the same.
“How could we break up?” Arya reasoned. “We were never really together,”
Sansa frowned at that. “What are you talking about? You spend almost every day
together. You two are always holding hands and… I thought things were getting
serious between the two of you. Gendry seemed like he wanted-”
“Well I guess you were wrong,” Arya interrupted, the cracks starting to form in
her voice. “Or I was wrong, I don’t know. It’s just so stupid.”
Arya turned to Sansa then, her eyes watering, her forehead scrunched up and her
lip trembling. In all her life, Sansa had never seen Arya cry, not once. Not
ever. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Arya could cry, or did cry, but Arya was
always their father’s daughter before anything else, and Eddard Stark was a man
who reserved his emotions. Jon was like that too.
Sansa felt unprepared, clumsy and awkward, her hands going up to pull Arya into
a hug but then hesitating. When Arya saw that she scoffed and walked away.
Sansa made sure to follow. Her clunky wedges made it difficult but Sansa felt
compelled nonetheless. Her sister needed her.
“Arya, just talk to me,” Sansa pleaded, ignoring the looks they were both
getting from strangers.
“There’s nothing to talk about!” Arya shouted, stopping short so hard that
Sansa had to brace herself against her little sister’s shoulders to keep from
crashing into her. “Let go of me!”
Arya shook away Sansa’s grip and faced her with fury in her eyes, but that
quickly burned out and left only numb, red tears. This time Sansa didn’t
falter. She pulled her little sister into her arms and was only slightly
surprised when Arya hugged back, her hands gripping tightly to the soft
material of Sansa’s dress. She pressed her fingers to Arya’s hair and stroked,
letting her touch linger on Arya’s neck to try and soothe her. Like Jon had
soothed Sansa earlier. Arya’s grip didn’t relax, but somehow a tension in her
shoulders slid away.
“Please Arya, let me help you,” Sansa whispered into the top of her sister’s
hair.
“He’s just… so confusing,” Arya began, and once she started the words came
easier. “I thought we were dating, I thought we were getting serious, I even
stopped messing with Jon because I didn’t want to cheat on him.”
Sansa just nodded, encouraging Arya to continue.
“We started getting more physical and we even went on- I don’t know, I thought
they were dates but maybe…”
“Arya, you don’t have to qualify for me,” Sansa offered. “Just tell me what’s
in your heart.”
“Ugh,” Arya groaned. “That’s so fucking cheesy.”
Sansa laughed and then Arya laughed a little too. Sansa waited as her sister
sniffled and wiped away some tears with the back of her hand before continuing.
“Suddenly today he’s freaking out on me, saying he isn’t my boyfriend, that I’m
too young for him, all this garbage that doesn’t even matter!” Arya shouted.
“It’s like, I’m older than I was a month ago, so why do you suddenly have a
problem with my age now? Plus he started getting weird about me paying for his
tickets and stuff but it doesn’t matter! He has a really tight budget and he
knows I know that and I like helping him anyway! He’s being such an idiot about
it!”
There was a bench by some trash cans that became suddenly unoccupied, so Sansa
guided Arya to sit down. Sansa sat and crossed her legs as she put her arm
around Arya’s waist, her little sister resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder.
“Then he just started insisting that we were friends and only friends. He
wouldn’t hear anything else about it,” Arya finished, gulping air to stifle a
little sob. “But I don’t want to be his stupid friend. I want to be with him. I
want him to be mine and I want to be his. I’ve never wanted anything like that
before.”
“You should tell him that,” Sansa offered.
“No, no,” Arya sighed. “I just have to accept that I can’t force him or
convince him. The stupid idiot is too stupid and stubborn.” Sansa had to nod a
little at that. If there was anyone more stubborn than her little sister, it
would be Gendry.
Then Arya said something that startled her.
“Jon was right. I should just give up on this stupid idea I have of me and
Gendry ever being more than friends.”
“What?” Sansa blurted. “Jon said that?”
“No, not exactly like that, but you know,” Arya explained without explaining,
stretching her legs out and leaning forward so her head was now between her
knees. “I just mean when I first told Jon, he said that it was a bad idea.”
“Why would he say that?” Sansa was genuinely baffled.
“Because Gendry and I are best friends.” Arya’s voice was muffled in this new
position, so Sansa leaned down as well to hear better. “Or we were friends. Now
I’ve probably ruined any chance of Gendry even talking to me. I shouldn’t have-
”
“Shouldn’t have what? Been honest about your feelings?” Sansa asked, gripping
Arya by the shoulder so she would sit up.
“It’s not about honesty, it’s about putting my bullshit on Gendry,” Arya
argued. “I was fine with things the way they were. Then I wanted to push it,
and why? Because I couldn’t control my feelings? I knew Gendry felt weird about
all this stuff but I wanted to date him anyway. Now I’ve ruined it with my
stupid- I should have-”
Arya gave a wail that drew everyone’s eyes but Sansa didn’t care for once.
“Arya, you did nothing wrong.”
“I was selfish,” Arya retorted, shaking her head as she spoke. “I’m so fucked
up and Gendry is too good for me. Being together with him makes me feel a
little more normal, but that’s not worth making him feel uncomfortable.”
“Well I disagree,” Sansa responded lamely.
“I should be more like Jon,” Arya continued. “He’s always telling me, you can’t
push, you can’t push, never push, and I pushed anyway. I wanted what I wanted
and I didn’t care that he didn’t feel the same.”
Sansa knew Arya was really talking to herself so she just stayed silent.
“It was stupid and… and it’s over.” Arya looked at Sansa and gave her the most
forced smile if there ever was one. “Or maybe it never really started, you
know? And it’s better that way? Maybe now it’ll be easier to go back to being
friends, you know?”
Sansa didn’t say anything so Arya just shook her head and gave an empty
chuckle. Sansa felt awful and useless. She could see that Arya was still in
pain, fighting through the doubt by smiling. Sansa knew that game well. Six
months ago, Sansa might have brushed it off as being her imagination. After
all, Arya was always weird when they were kids. It was impossible to think that
Arya and Sansa would ever have anything in common, let alone about boys.
But Sansa knew better now. Not just about her sister but about everything.
“Enough about me, so what happened with you and Harry?” Arya asked, looking
genuinely interested in hearing the story.
“You’re wrong.”
“What?” Arya asked, her forced smile melting away.
“That’s not what love is like at all,” Sansa continued. “You think love isn’t
about pushing? Of course it is. You think you can just sit on the sidelines and
be content with Gendry’s friendship, when you know in your heart of hearts that
he feels the same? Arya Stark, queen of defiance, is ready to give up that
easily?”
“It’s not about giving up,” Arya defended herself. “It’s about respecting his
boundaries.”
“Boundaries?” Sansa laughed, hoping it sounded more lyrical than cynical. “You
think Gendry doesn’t want you? Doesn’t want to be with you? Do you think you
made up whatever it is that’s going on between you two?”
“I-I don’t know.” Arya’s tone was still defensive yet less sure. “Maybe.”
“If that’s true, then you never really loved him.”
Sansa started straight into Arya’s eyes and could see it there, just behind the
bluster and the backtracking. Even though Arya was trying to look like she was
offended by Sansa’s suggestion, like the very idea was laughable to her, there
was also fire in her eyes. The kind of fire that only came from knowing the
truth even if it felt like you didn’t. If Arya didn’t love Gendry, if she
didn’t believe he might love her back, that look in her eyes would have been
weaker.
“Or, you did love him,” Sansa continued after a beat. “Maybe you love him so
much that you can’t imagine being without him. If he feels anything for you
like you feel for him, then Gendry should know that the pain you feel from
being apart will be greater than any pain he could possibly cause you. And if
he doesn’t believe it, then you have to believe twice as hard.
“Because love is about fighting Arya. Fighting your fear, your pain, your bad
memories, but it’s also about fighting the other person's doubts. His pain or
his pride, whatever it is that keeps him from opening up completely to you.
People don’t want to be vulnerable, but love is only worth it if you make
yourself really, truly vulnerable. Fighting for that, trying for that, isn’t a
burden. That isn’t being selfish.”
Suddenly Sansa felt her fingers being gripped. She looked down to see Arya’s
dark painted nails, her smaller fingers wrapped around Sansa’s own.
“Your love is a gift Arya. Gendry will see that.”
“But what if he rejects me?” Arya whispered. “What if it hurts even more
because I opened myself up to him? What if he’s right that we’re not good
together?”
“No one knows that Arya,” Sansa pulled her little sister into another hug. “No
one knows if they’re going to hurt someone. Help them, love them, leave them.
You and Gendry could fall in love and then die in a car crash tomorrow. No one
knows. People who pretend otherwise are letting their fears rule them. And I
would rather be ruled by love.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Did she? Once long ago, Sansa Stark had known exactly how her life would play
out. After college, she and Joffrey would be married, maybe even planning on
having their first child. Joff would work for his father’s company while Sansa
tried her hand at making her own clothes as a little side business while
raising the children. It was the picture-perfect life that she’d always been
promised.
But with those dreams dashed and the visions killed, what did she want for
herself? Love? A future? She knew now that she had to be independent, had to
have her own life and career and happiness outside of love, if she was ever
going to make it. The world was filled with people who wanted to hurt and abuse
you, and even those who didn’t were filled with selfish indifference. Only you
could protect yourself.
And yet…
When Sansa allowed herself to dream, when she stared off into the ocean and saw
the sun spreading out over the world like a warm blanket, she still saw it.
That vision of herself. The one she couldn’t let go. She was pregnant and
happy, in the arms of the man she loved. Once that face had been Joff’s, but
now she could never see that man’s features. Couldn’t see the smile he gave
her, feel the warm kiss he placed on her lips, his hands gently caressing her
belly, their love.
Sansa wanted to just ignore that, chalk it up to too many romantic comedies
growing up and unrealistic expectations set by her parents’ marriage. Once she
had been a child dreaming of such silliness, when Sansa Stark was still in love
with love. Now she wasn’t sure if such a dream was possible… but wasn’t that
the point? To find out?
She didn’t care if it was foolish. Arya had never cared about being foolish.
Sansa didn’t feel strong enough to believe in an idea of love for herself… but
she could do it for Arya.
If only because Sansa loved her so much.
“I do,” Sansa answered, releasing her sister from their hug and wiping at the
fresh tears that had formed on her pretty face, a face that deserved love.
“I do.”
10:13PM
Sansa sat down on the toilet seat lid, the sounds of everyone still chatting
and enjoying themselves emanating from the living room. Even though Arya and
Gendry had managed to mend fences, it was with the understanding that they
would go slow. So rather than seek some time alone, Arya had invited everyone
to come over to the apartment for drinks and snacks.
At first Sansa had been a bit annoyed that they were suddenly throwing a get-
together without any prep time (“A good host is a prepared host!” Sansa had
screeched) but now she was glad for it. If she was alone tonight, Sansa might
have stopped to overthink her decision, allowing all the little voices to rule
her. With people around, Sansa could distract herself from doubt.
Pressing down on the green call button, Sansa held her phone up to her ear and
listened to the ring. Part of her was surprised it was ringing at all instead
of going straight to voicemail. Then it clicked.
“Hello?”
“Hi, listen, I know you probably want to hang up on me but please just let me
get this out,” Sansa explained in rapid beat before taking a breath.
“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. It isn’t really your problem, but I want
you to know something.” Sansa continued once she realized she wouldn’t be
interrupted. “For a long time, I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone because the
person I trusted most betrayed me. Ever since then, I always assume people have
agendas, that they’re lying to me, that they want something from me. It makes
it hard for me to believe that someone might actually care about me in a way
that doesn’t somehow benefit them.”
“Sansa-”
“Wait, please, just let me finish.” Sansa could feel the wind going out of her
sails.
“I was wrong to judge you so harshly, especially since I never gave you a
chance to defend yourself. Maybe you like me, or maybe you hate me now, but
either way I like you and I want to try again. I know that might not be the
cool thing to say, but it’s the truth. I don’t want us to stop becoming closer.
I don’t want to stop becoming whatever we’re supposed to be, before it even
happens.”
There was a long pause but for once Sansa didn’t feel nervous to hear the
answer. No matter what, she’d laid it all out. Whatever happened next was out
of her control.
“Well I’d have to be an absolute monster not to accept an apology like that,”
Myranda finally chuckled. “Let’s get coffee tomorrow and catch up. There’s a
cute little café near me that has these lemon cakes… you’ll want to die after
trying them, nothing else will ever compare.”
“I love lemon cakes!” Sansa cooed.
Myranda and Sansa chatted for a few more minutes before settling on a time for
lunch. When they hung up, Sansa felt a flush come to her face but it was one of
joy and fulfillment. She'd never realized how good it felt to just say what you
wanted, do what you wanted, damning all her fears. She felt invincible. She
felt powerful. The dragon had been slain, not by any costumed hero or romantic
protagonist, but by her. Stuffy, stuck-up Sansa Stark. She had slain the
dragon. Two dragons in fact.
So there was only one left.
11:57PM
She stared at the door, off-white to match the walls, the doorknob now inches
from her fingers. She was still dripping.
It was utter silliness. Madness. A flight of fancy that must have come from
some evil place in her heart yet Sansa couldn’t seem to stop herself. Breaking
up with Harry, helping Arya, reconciling with Myranda, this had already been a
hallmark day! The perfect Beach Day!
But she wanted more.
The apartment was quiet now, her every step creaking on the wooden floor. After
Val left, the rest of the party pretty much followed her in dispersing. Edric
had offered to drive the rest of Arya’s friends back to their homes, but Talea,
Brea, and Daena had opted to share a cab. When Serenai left with Edric, just
the two of them, Arya had given Sansa an arrogant and triumphant wink.
Though the bigger surprise had been Jeyne.
“Do you think it’s crazy?” She’d asked Sansa privately. “I mean, I texted Theon
and he said it was alright with him but… I’ve never been with a girl. I’m
really nervous.”
Sansa had glanced over at Dany, kissing Jon goodnight and saying something to
him. Apparently, Dany had a weakness for “girl virgins,” Jon had explained. Not
female virgins, but girls who had never been with another girl before. As soon
as Jeyne had mentioned always being curious… well… Dany had smelled the blood
on the water.
“Jeyne, you came here to have a little fun on your school break, right?” Sansa
had reasoned. “If I was going to be with a girl, Dany would be my first choice,
hands down.”
Sansa’s old friend seemed reassured by that. “You’re right, you’re right. We’re
young and dumb and… you only live once right?”
Those words echoed through Sansa’s mind as she stared even longer at the door.
The wood was older than the paint job. She could see now that there were some
chips and peels that should really be sanded over. The doorknob was dented. A
hundred other insignificant details passed through Sansa’s mind until she ran
out of things to stall with.
It was time to be brave.
Opening Jon’s door, Sansa was mildly disappointed by what she saw.
Once when Sansa had walked into Jon’s room without knocking, she had caught him
eating Dany out from behind, the beautiful silver-haired temptress standing on
her tip-toes as she leaned over his desk, almost sitting on Jon’s chin as he
devoured her. Another time she came home and Jon’s door was open, Wylla holding
onto the pull-up bar that Jon had affixed to his door frame so she could hang
her body at the perfect height for his furiously thrusting hips. Even Jon just
coming out of his bedroom, naked but for a pair of skintight briefs after a
hard workout in his room, had once been enough to scandalize Sansa.
So to see Stupid Sexy Jon Snow sitting in his desk chair, rounded glasses on as
he read a book, was a bit underwhelming. He was shirtless, per usual, but he
was also wearing a baggy pair of basketball shorts that left more than enough
to the imagination.
He looked so ordinary.
“Sansa?” Jon asked, closing his book and then blushing when he saw her. “What
are you- um, what are you doing?”
She smiled and brushed a few wet strands of hair out of her face. Other than
the fluffy pink towel she had wrapped around her chest, she was naked. A few
drops of water fell to Jon’s carpeted floor, the course material feeling
pleasant against her bare feet. Though she had taken a hot shower, Sansa felt
somehow hotter in Jon’s room, the air thick with humidity.
“It really is kind of mean that Arya and I get all the fans,” Sansa remarked,
avoiding Jon’s eyes. “Your room is probably the warmest in the whole building.”
“I- um, I manage,” Jon croaked.
“Daenerys is a good sport for dealing with it,” Sansa continued, moving further
into the room, into the heat, into that smell that could only be described as
Jon. “Passing up that penthouse she’s renting to sleep over in this hot box…
she must really want to be with you.”
Jon only swallowed and nodded.
“Are you lonely that she’s not here?” Sansa asked, her tone as innocent as
possible.
“Not really,” Jon chuckled though the smile vanished when he saw how serious
Sansa was being. “I mean, Dany is Dany. I’m sure she and Jeyne are having a
good time.”
“Leaving just us behind.”
Sansa’s words lingered between them. She felt a bead of sweat on her temple
that wasn’t from the heat. Part of her just wanted to drop the towel and tell
him to take her. She knew if she did, Jon would probably lose control and just
finally, epically, give her what she wanted. A prouder part of Sansa wanted to
seduce him into breaking first, though she hadn’t the faintest idea how. She
decided to go for something obvious, adjusting her towel and “accidentally”
letting it slip for a moment, her nipple exposed to the open air before she re-
wrapped it. Jon had noticed.
Sansa glanced over at his alarm clock and saw that it was almost midnight.
Somehow in her mind, she knew if she didn’t act now, the spell of Beach Day
courage would fade away. Maddeningly, Jon was still silent so Sansa took
another step forward. When she reached behind her and closed his door, she made
sure to hold eye contact when she flipped the lock. The audible click made Jon
look even more nervous.
She wanted him. Pure and simple. Over the past six months, Sansa had come up
with every reason for why this could never happen, had gathered those reasons
together to forge a shield against any perverse thoughts or excuses. Jon Snow
was her brother in some respects, her roommate in all respects, and a fragile
person above all.
Yet nonetheless she wanted him.
“I was sorry to hear about you and Harry,” Jon said, attempting to break
through the silence.
“It’s alright. I finally decided that I wanted something better,” Sansa
shrugged, feeling her breasts peek out a bit more with the gesture. “Sometimes
you have to go after what you want, you know? Damn the consequences.”
“A lesson Arya took to heart,” Jon smiled, looking both impressed and maybe
anxious. “Something I never could have taught her. See? I was always right.
Arya needed her sister here.”
“Sometimes the thing we need most is right in front of us.” Sansa moved closer,
shivering despite the heat of the room.
“Sansa... what are you doing?” Jon finally asked.
She took another step closer, now only a hand’s width away from him. Jon’s legs
were almost brushing against hers. His hands were on the sides of his chair,
gripping the armrests with so much force that his forearms were shaking.
“Sansa?”
“I need you Jon…”
Sansa lifted her chin and tilted her head, eying him carefully with her most
practiced pout so he wouldn’t see how nervous she really was. She pressed one
leg forward, showing off the skin of her thigh through the split in her towel.
Jon’s eyes did flick down for a second, and Sansa let that thrill give her
confidence.
“…I don’t like to sleep alone.”
“W-what?” Jon mumbled, still acting the gentleman as he stared only at her
face, even now when she was practically hitting him over the head with her
body.
“Arya went home with Gendry, so I’m all alone in our room,” Sansa said, her
voice like the course drag of a zipper over lace. “You’re all alone in here
too… so I thought…”
“You want to sleep in here?” Jon asked, his nervousness slowly being replaced
by an amused bewilderment. “Are you sure you can handle that?”
”Is he… teasing me?” Sansa wondered. ”Or is he trying to get me to chicken
out?”
Jon stood and walked over to his bed, shedding his shorts and underwear in one
quick motion. Sansa only had a few moments of seeing that wide, beautiful back
with those corded muscles and those little lower back dimples that she wanted
to lick blueberries out of. That round and strong butt that she’d stared at so
often was gloriously nude for a flash before Jon shuffled into his bed and
pulled the sheets over his lower half. He removed his glasses and put them on
his nightstand and then brushed his hand through his hair like a fucking
supermodel. He lifted one arm up, showing her his tricep as he held onto the
headboard behind him, his other hand lifting the sheet up for her.
For her spot on the bed.
Before she could rush over and join him though, Sansa spotted something
familiar on Jon’s desk. She picked up the book he had been reading and realized
that it was one she was familiar with. One of her recent favorites actually.
“When did you get this?” Sansa asked, forgetting for a moment what was about to
happen.
“What?” Jon asked, moving from his spot to look at what Sansa was holding. “Oh
yeah, Poems of Maidenpool. I got it a couple weeks ago. It’s really
interesting. You can see Florian’s writing style changing over time throughout
the book, signifying how he becomes more of a true knight. It’s very well-
crafted.”
“I recommended this to Harry,” Sansa said. “I was raving about it for weeks, I
couldn’t get over it. You bought it? For yourself?”
Jon shrugged. “You kept recommending it, so…”
Sansa tossed the book aside and sprinted into his bed. She fucking needed to
touch him. Now.
She flicked her towel off but dived under the sheets before she showed anything
off to Jon. She started by pressing as much of her skin against him as she
could. His legs intertangled with hers, her fingers scratched over his
shoulders, gripping his hips, stroking his chest. She felt him grab her ass but
not in a sexual way. It was more… possessive. Sansa had never wanted to be
possessed in such a way before.
His grip moved up her back, over her neck, through her wet hair. They were
touching and rubbing each other like mad, thighs on knees, stomachs on chests,
like at any moment they might catch fire and the only thing stopping them was
each other.
He was hard between her legs and for a moment Sansa almost did it, almost
begged him to lie down so she could ride him like she’d dreamed. Like she’d
heard countless girls do over and over and over and never been left
disappointed. He was hard and warm and almost perfect.
Instead Sansa turned Jon over, spooning him from behind. She ran her hands over
his chest and around his middle, like she’d done that morning on the bike,
except now her fingers felt manic and his skin felt amazing. She ran her tongue
over his spine and he tasted like liquid sunlight. She couldn’t get over how
hard some parts of his body were when his skin was so soft and his hair smelled
like angels. It felt even better against her lips.
Jon groaned at her touches and she made an embarrassing sound into his neck
when she felt his hand run over her forearm, pressing her palm to his lips so
he could lay hot, wet kisses down her wrist. She rubbed her legs together to
stop the tingling there. Anything to stop the tingling there. Sansa knew if Jon
felt how wet she was she wouldn’t be able to resist him.
“This is what I want,” Sansa whispered. “I want to feel you. I want to feel.”
“But we shouldn’t… you’re different Sansa.”
“What?” Sansa felt like she was going mad, and yet still Jon was somehow
fighting it? “Why not?”
“Sansa, if we have sex-”
“It’s not sex I want, Jon!” Sansa interrupted, blushing like mad into his back.
“It’s not innocent either, I know, but I can’t explain it. Please Jon, I just…
I need your help. It feels like I’m going to burst out of my skin at any moment
but when I touch you, the fire starts to feel... controlled.”
Her frustration was only growing. Sansa knew now that this is how she had
wanted Beach Day to end from the moment she and Jon shared that sunlit walk.
She had shed some old part of herself then that she didn’t realize she’d never
let go. Her body ached but more than that, she was tired. Bone tired. She just
wanted to surrender but she didn’t know how or to what. She didn’t understand
it. Was it Jon? Was it just sex? Could this really just be sex? If it wasn’t,
what was it?
“I think I understand,” Jon answered, as if reading her thoughts. “I think I
know what you want.”
“What?” Sansa almost cried. “You do?”
“Satisfaction.”
Jon turned over, gripping her close by her lower back. His hand trailed down,
cupping her right asscheek and pulling her open slightly, exposing her sex to
the air. It made Sansa’s vision swim with sparks and inky blackness. His other
hand tickled up her spine in a way that almost felt like an orgasm but not
quite before resting below her shoulder blades. It was a sturdy hold yet not
forceful. Sexual yet almost nurturing. She felt like a little girl. She felt
like a woman. She felt how hot and hard he was between her legs.
Then Jon pressed her sex against his thigh without warning, tickling his finger
over her ribs as her clit scraped against the rough skin of his leg. It was
simple. Just a stroke and a tickle that only lasted a few seconds. He brushed
her against his body a few more times, just like that, and then on the last
stroke, when it felt like she would go mad if he didn't do something different,
something harder, he brushed a thumb over her nipple and licked the shell of
her ear.
And she detonated.
Too focused on coming down from her high, she didn't really notice as Jon let
her go, the lack of him making Sansa curl into a fetal position. He stopped
touching her, stopped smelling her, stopped holding her. After her breathing
finally calmed, Jon pecked Sansa on the forehead and rolled her over so he was
spooning her. His arms wrapped around her chest and his legs pressed against
hers. His cock was a red hot line against her back. Eventually she felt his
breathing slow and Jon was snoozing, his grip on her body still possesive even
in slumber.
Sansa had never slept better.
Chapter End Notes
     Just to clarify for the perverts, Jon and Sansa did not have
     intercourse.
***** Chapter 8 - Jon *****
Chapter Summary
     Jon tries to give Sansa a fantasy, but she ruins it with reality.
Chapter Notes
     Thank you for waiting on this one. I see the light at the end of the
     tunnel.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sansa leaned against the door after it shut, dropping her keys to the floor and
letting out a long breath of exhaustion. After a full day of classes, more
photo sessions with Myranda, and a stressful afternoon interview, Sansa wanted
nothing more than to lay down on the couch, smoke a bowl with Arya, and watch
some crappy horror movies on Netflix.
 
“Sansa?” Jon’s voice was distant.
 
“Where are you?” Sansa looked up at the ceiling as she slipped off her mint-
green stilettos.
 
“I’m on the roof! Where are you?”
 
“I’m in the living room!” Sansa shouted, wiggling her toes to get some feeling
back into them.
 
“Um… maybe you could come up to the roof?”
 
“Is there some reason you can’t come down to me?” Sansa teased as she reached
into the sleeve of her ruffled cream blouse to unhook and then toss away her
bra.
 
“Sansa don’t be cheeky.”
 
She giggled. Just that morning she had accused Jon of being cheeky in the
shower, to his great offense. Her plan had been to ditch the tight, black
skinny jeans and lounge around free of material confinement on her thighs, but
the roof was a little draftier, so Sansa left them on as she started the climb
up.
 
”This better be good,” she thought as she pressed her bare foot onto the first
cold ladder rung.
 
Jon Snow did not disappoint.
 
Wearing a pair of dark slacks, the cuffs rolled up past his ankles, and a navy-
blue button-down, Jon grinned as he stepped aside to reveal a large copper
kettle-tub under a string of fairy lights hanging from two plastic golf flags.
It was sitting on top of some sort of metal frame that looked kind of like a
grill, a small patch of lit coals underneath. As she stepped closer, Sansa saw
that the water inside was bubbling, opaque in color, scents of lavender, honey,
and even cinnamon crème hitting her nose.
 
“What is this?
 
“A bathtub.” Jon smiled.
 
“But I mean… why? How?”
 
Jon walked over to the godswood garden, leaning down to pick up a bottle of
buttermilk that was next to a few other empty jars and tinctures in the grass.
He uncorked it and poured a long stream of white fluid into the water,
releasing a thickly sweet smell into the air that made Sansa’s eyelids feel
heavy. Jon stirred the bathwater with his hand.
 
“I used the firehose to fill it up. Set up the burner underneath like a
campfire.”
 
“And this is for me?” Sansa asked with a titter, stepping closer to Jon so she
could brush a strand of dark hair away from his face and over his ear.
 
“I know how much you’ve missed hot baths since you came back from Winterfell,
and since our shower doesn’t have a tub, I thought-”
 
His explanation was interrupted by Sansa’s tongue jamming into his mouth,
tasting and touching every part of that delicious smile, those devilish lips,
swallowing his delighted laughs. She gripped him lightly by the hair, causing
Jon to groan. As she unbuttoned his shirt, Jon’s hands roamed up her spine
under her blouse. Her kisses moved from his lips and down his neck, then over
his chest, lingering on a nipple before Jon pushed her back and finished
stripping.
 
“Mind if I join you in there?” Jon growled as he unzipped his fly.
 
Sansa answered his question by lifting her blouse over her head, her breasts
feeling tight and needy when they became exposed to the cold open air. She
peeled her jeans off her hips and down her legs, leaving her naked but her
lacey purple underwear. Jon never lifted his eyes from hers yet she couldn’t
help but let her gaze tick down to his chest, once again feeling herself drool
at the sight of him.
 
She was about to peel her underwear off but Jon pressed a hand over hers when
she tried. He stepped forward, his manhood growing between them, his breath
shaky over her face. He hooked a thumb on each side of her hips and pulled them
down, but only to her thighs. The tight material kept Sansa’s legs pinched
together, but she saw the merits of it when Jon’s hand slid down.
 
He pulled her open with two fingers, slowly exposing her lips and the wetness
there. When her hips pitched forward, Sansa realized her thighs were pinching
her clit, though with very soft pressure. It was a gentle buzz of pleasure as
Jon moved his thumbs in circles over her clit, pushing and rubbing her lips at
the same time to create more wetness. She gripped Jon’s biceps and her eyelids
fluttered when she felt the muscles there, hard and unrelenting.
 
Sansa shuddered before giggling again. “Naughty boy. Doing this to your
adoptive sister. Have you no shame?”
 
“I did, once.” Jon’s tone was comically villainous. “Then I saw that body of
yours. Talk about shameless. It’s like you were built to be fucked little
lady.”
 
He followed his words with action, tearing Sansa’s underwear so hard that her
thighs turned as bright red as her face. The sound of fabric ripping always
made Sansa’s heart flutter in both fear and longing.
 
It all just felt so good!
 
"Jon always makes it feel good."
 
Even after weeks of being intimate, Sansa still felt a desperate need for Jon
Snow whenever she saw him. If anything, it had gotten worse.
 
When they’d slept together on Beach Day, they didn’t talk about what happened
the next morning, didn’t deal with the situation or any possible feelings.
Possible consequences. The whole situation started to feel confusing and messy.
Sansa had thanked the gods that she and Arya would have two weeks away from San
Francisco. Only the holidays could effectively clear her head of quiet doubts
and nattering fears.
 
When they flew back after New Year’s, Sansa was ready to address it but Jon
didn’t seem as willing. He treated her the same, gentle if a bit
overprotective, and it made her confidence waver. Was it just some joke? Had it
meant nothing to Jon? Was she so easy to ignore? She wondered if maybe the
whole thing had been some dumb fluke. A mistake or worse.
 
Until it happened again.
 
She stood by her claim that she was acting in total innocence. Truly. Arya was
sleeping over at Gendry’s again, and Sansa had heard a noise outside the
window. She became frightened. Maybe a murderer was coming into their apartment
in the dead of night to slit her throat or something. It was a matter of safety
quite honestly. And Jon was a cop, sort of, after all.
 
In her panic she didn’t even think to put clothes on. When she shook Jon awake,
Sansa had been wearing a thong borrowed from Arya (laundry day) and a tank top
that hadn’t been able to contain her breasts since high school.
 
Jon had been sleeping on his stomach, his arms messily wrapped around a pillow
above his head. The sheet shifted as he rolled over to reveal he was
spectacularly naked and promisingly hard.
 
“What took you so long?” He’d whispered. It was the only thing either of them
said for hours.
 
She’d passed out around 3 AM after a particularly explosive release, only to
awaken with a gasp to Jon strumming her clit between the second and third
knuckle of his middle finger, the pad of his fingertip squirming inside her
with just the right amount of pressure to make her leg shake. Sansa bit his
chest to keep from screaming and Jon repaid her with a harsh, loud trio of
spanks. Once she started coming down, Jon caressed her neck and shoulders and
pressed soft, loving kisses on her forehead. It felt like he was comforting her
after some sort of harrowing ordeal.
 
And so began Sansa Stark’s sexual awakening.
 
Jon fingered her every night, except on nights where he let Sansa rub herself
against his body. She never really worried about sleeping anymore. Jon was like
a sleeping pill, but instead of green capsules that made her drowsy, he just
knocked her out with his hands or his tongue. Sometimes toys. Every time she
woke up the next day, she’d felt like she ran twenty miles but somehow wasn’t
sore. Everywhere else. And that was just the nights.
During the daytimes Jon got really creative.
 
He had eaten her out in the living room while she watched an X-rated movie (her
orgasm coinciding with the female protagonist), rimmed her ass in the kitchen
while she ate breakfast (the only thing that made pancakes sweeter than syrup
was butt-play it seemed), and even pressed a vibrator to her slit while she was
on the phone with the bank (she’d vowed to check her balance online next time).
 
More than just blowing her top off though, Jon also tried to teach her things.
He had shown her how to hold off an orgasm to make it feel ten times better
later and how to make one orgasm’s afterglow lead to another orgasm’s
beginning. Jon had even taught Sansa how to make her body feel mind-blowingly
good without having an actual bodily orgasm. That might have been Sansa’s
favorite lesson. Jon had moved with slow and careful grace the whole time,
visibly restraining himself. She liked it when Jon got all sweaty and tense
like that.
 
One night when Jon had to work a double-shift, leaving Sansa alone for the
first time since they’d started, she spent hours in her bed feeling itchy and
uncomfortable. She couldn’t stop herself from getting wet. Sansa realized she’d
forgotten how to fall asleep without Jon knocking her unconscious from
explosive pleasure. Even when using the lessons Jon had shown her, Sansa felt
like the pleasure she gave herself was lacking in comparison. She didn’t sleep
a wink that night.
 
”I’m addicted to him,” Sansa had realized with aroused horror. ”My body is
looking for its fix.”
 
They couldn’t be together whenever they wanted though. Sansa didn’t want Arya
to know, at least for now, so they always had to be careful. Smart. Still, they
found their times. Whenever Arya stayed out late and left them home alone, Jon
and Sansa would continue exploring each other’s bodies.
 
Though it seemed their focus was mostly on Sansa’s body as Jon never let her
return the favor. She could tell he liked it when she touched his chest, kissed
his stomach, his neck, but he always stopped her when she reached for his
manhood. She’d wanted to question him on that more than once, but whenever she
tried, Jon would go down on her and show her how magical his mouth could make
her feel. Once she’d stopped him from moving below the belt, locking him in her
arms, so instead Jon showed her how to orgasm from nipple-play alone. She’d
stopped bothering him about it after that.
 
But better than Jon’s fingers or his mouth or even his ridiculously gorgeous
body, was sleeping with him. Sansa had always enjoyed cuddling, but she was
apparently a casual fan to Jon’s master class. Every night they were together
she either spooned him or let him lay on his back while she slept with her head
on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively over her back. It felt loving. It
felt hot. It felt amazing.
 
Jon was amazing.
 
Groaning in delight as he lowered himself into the bath, Jon gave her a bold
smile. He took her hand and helped her step inside with him. The scolding,
scented water caressed her legs, then her thighs, then her back, causing Sansa
to moan shamelessly.
 
They were a shifting pile of limbs for a moment but eventually Jon had his arms
resting on the edge of the tub, creating a nice barrier of skin and muscles for
Sansa to lay her back against. She shimmied her bottom a little on Jon’s lap
and he gave a warning groan that made her feel sexy.
 
They enjoyed the warm, blissful silence for a good long while before Sansa’s
curiosity got the best of her.
 
“How did you get this up here?”
 
She could feel Jon’s voice vibrate in his chest as he spoke. “The tub itself is
actually pretty light. The coals and burners were the tough part, but I figured
it out.”
 
“And you just wanted to brighten up my day?” Sansa asked, her tone light even
as she felt vulnerable asking.
 
“Well, I know you had that job interview today. So, I figured, if you got it,
we could celebrate. If you didn’t, well, maybe I could help you forget your
troubles.”
 
”Sometimes you make me forget my name,” Sansa thought with a little shimmy.
 
“So?” Jon asked. “Did you get the job?”
 
Sansa sighed. “I think so.”
 
“Really? That’s great news!” Jon cheered with a little splash. “Isn’t it?”
 
She still wasn’t sure. Alongside her new sexual horizons with Jon, Sansa’s
modeling horizons had been on the rise. Myranda was responsible for most of it,
encouraging Sansa to do some fit modeling for some local seamstresses along
with their regular fun photo sessions. Sansa had even tried art modeling, which
included standing naked in front of a dozen strangers once a week as they
sketched her. Once such a thing would have given her hives from embarrassment
but after the first time, Sansa was surprised by how quickly she became
accustomed to it.
 
The other career push came from her first, real-life modeling gig. After Lady
Shella’s had been such a hit, an energy drink start-up, “Shade of the Evening”
had reached out to Sansa to become their Social Media spokesperson. It was
pitched as being an energy drink for the club, rehydrating you after a night of
dancing and drinking, so for the first time Sansa had had to record video,
dancing in slinky dresses to no music while pretending to drink sugar water.
Instead of Arya holding the camera, she’d gone to an actual studio where an
actual art professional named Satin directed her face and body. The pay was
okay. Myranda had called it a “baby model” gig.
 
But the interview today was the real deal. Mockingbird was a legitimate
modeling agency that took young talent and shaped them into the future sex
symbols of tomorrow. A few girls who were part of the agency had even gone on
to do Red Keep Maiden Swimsuit Shows. If Sansa was serious about modeling, this
was an agency that could make things happen.
 
“I just don’t know if I want to be a model,” Sansa explained as she ran a
finger over Jon’s forearm. “I mean, I’m bored of school, but is that enough of
a reason to change my whole life? My future career options? Mockingbird would
be a full-time job. School would definitely be delayed. I might even need to
take a deferment.”
 
Jon moved his hands from around the tub and began massaging Sansa’s neck,
dipping down between her shoulder blades occasionally. His hands caused Sansa
to groan and close her eyes, her body melting into the fragrant water. On an
impulse, she pushed Jon’s hands away but then pulled them under her armpits,
placing his palms over her breasts. Jon didn’t need another hint. At first he
gripped her harshly, so tight that skin spilled out from between his fingers,
but then he lightened his touch and his movements were softer. She made another
embarrassing sound. The sudden change from tight near-pain to nurturing petting
had caused a shocking sensation in her breasts.
 
“I’m happy with my life right now,” Sansa continued, her voice deeper and
throaty as Jon kept up the perfect amount of pressure. “Why mess with that, you
know?”
 
“I suppose.”
 
Sansa could hear his doubt. “Unless you have thoughts to offer?”
 
“It’s your life,” Jon dodged.
 
He let go of her breasts as she turned to look at him. Sansa reached up and
gently rubbed his cheek, the scratching from his 5 o’clock shadow feeling
pleasant against her palm. Jon leaned down and kissed her softly, and Sansa
reached another hand around his shoulder to keep him close.
 
Her breasts started pressing against Jon’s chest, the hair feeling coarse
against her nipples. When the kiss broke, a strand of saliva was still
connecting their lips and Sansa instinctively kissed him again, pushing herself
harder into his body. She heard his back bump against the rim of the tub and
Sansa twisted herself to her knees.
 
She was kneeling over Jon now, kissing downward as she tilted his head back
further. Whenever Jon kissed her like that it made her feel dizzy in the most
delicious way, so she hoped the same would happen to him. She stroked her
fingers over his shoulders and then down to his nipples, rubbing them in soft
circles like he did for her. Sansa was bursting with a strange pride to hear
his moans.
 
When she pulled back from the kiss, Jon looked close to passing out.
 
“Just tell me what you’re thinking Jon,” Sansa whispered in her neediest voice,
feeling Jon’s cock twitch next to her leg. “Maybe I’ll like it.”
 
Jon audibly gulped before speaking. “I agree. You should turn down
Mockingbird.”
 
“Oh,” Sansa said, unable to hide her surprise. “I thought you were a supporter
of my modeling aspirations?”
 
“I am, I am!” Jon said quickly, gripping her by the waist and pressing soft,
apologetic kisses to her neck. “I just don’t know if Mockingbird is the right
fit for you.”
 
“Right fit?” Sansa chuckled. “They’re one of the biggest agencies on the West
Coast. Some of their clients, even you would recognize them Jon.”
 
“Okay, okay, so they’re a big deal. But so are you.” Jon pressed his hands
against her back until she straightened her spine, thrusting her chest out
more. “I just meant, maybe you don’t need them.”
 
“Careful, you’ll give me a big head,” Sansa joked before gasping as Jon started
running his tongue from between her breasts, down to her navel, touching the
opening of her bellybutton with soft pressure until she batted his head away.
 
“Leave that!”
 
“The bath is working. You taste like an ice cream cone.” Jon ran his tongue
lewdly between her hips and Sansa had to grip the back of his head for support.
“Hmm… you should taste yourself…”
 
“Stop it!” Sansa panted, pushing Jon back with a loud thump on the copper edge.
“You’re trying to distract me with your sexiness!”
 
Jon slicked some hair off his face and smiled. “I like it when you get bossy.”
 
Sansa harrumphed before leaning down and biting Jon’s neck, causing him to
shout in displeasure. When he gripped her arms, she got confusingly excited
until he pushed her back onto her butt. She drifted to the opposite end of the
tub and pouted, feigning distaste at his roughness.
 
“What do you mean I don’t need them? They’re a professional modeling agency
Jon, it would be a huge opportunity for me.”
 
He shrugged and bounced his head from shoulder to shoulder for a few moments,
carefully considering his answer. Sansa liked that. Most guys, she would have
thought they were stalling to build up a lie, but Jon never lied. He just liked
to make sure he was as clear with his feelings as possible.
 
“You said Mockingbird does mostly men’s magazines. Commercials, alcohol brands,
stuff like that, right?”
 
Sansa nodded. It was another reason why she was unsure of starting any modeling
career, let alone one with Mockingbird. The opportunity was great, and it was
very flattering that they had reached out, but Sansa still struggled with the
idea of showing off her body to the public.
 
When she wore a flattering dress or skirt, even a racier piece that showed off
more skin, that was different. Yes, some could look at Myranda’s photoshoots
and find something sexual about the way Sansa looked… but there was artistry
there too. Purpose. Lines. She worked to highlight the clothing, the fit. An
effect. Myranda worked to evoke different lightings and moods from Sansa’s
face, her body language, her eyes. There was always a greater context.
 
Mockingbird would probably get Sansa into some lingerie ad as fast as possible.
It was inevitable that they'd put her in some sexist beer commercial where she
smiled in a bikini while a man said something dumb about hops. That type of
modeling would be about sex appeal only. Which was fine, but...
 
“It just doesn’t feel like you,” Jon continued. “You care about… I don’t know,
color patterns and fabric cuts and which designers are doing this thing or
which color is in season in this country. You’re a fashion model Sansa. You
belong on the walkway.”
 
Sansa blushed. “It’s runway.”
 
“Whatever. My point is, this agency won’t help with that.”
 
“But maybe this is what I’m good at,” Sansa rebutted. “Jon, I’m tall for a
girl, but fashion models are, like, taller than you. They need to be really
skinny and a little flat-chested, like Arya except less muscular.”
 
To prove her point Sansa palmed her breasts, lifting and squeezing a little
like she did whenever she looked in the mirror and faced her body image issues.
Her breasts were slightly too big for her frame, which had made her very
popular in high school, but already at 20 Sansa could see some sag. Some
stretch marks. Her skin was translucent around her nipples and showed harsh,
blue veins.
 
“Maybe I don’t really have the body for fashion modeling,” Sansa explained,
looking at Jon as his eyes moved up from her breasts to her face. “Maybe this
is the smart move for me. I like what’s behind Door Number 1, so why bother
with Door Number 2?.”
 
“I don’t accept that,” Jon said as he shook his head. “It’s okay to want more
for yourself Sansa.”
 
Sansa was getting irritated. “Look, fashion models can’t have fupas, okay? And
I refuse to stop eating In-N-Out, I can’t go back to my pre In-N-Out life.”
 
Jon frowned and raised an eyebrow. Sansa was about to explain why she loved
high-waisted fashion so much for exactly that reason, when Jon reached forward
to press his hand to her belly. Sansa felt aroused but also mortified. His hand
started fiddling with the skin there, pulling on the plump in question, and
Sansa was filled with a desire to punch Jon in the face. Before she could
explode with offense however, Jon’s hand trailed down further.
 
“O-oh.”
 
“Sansa, that’s ridiculous,” Jon chuckled, his lips appearing like a ghost by
her ear. “Every woman has a layer of tissue here to protect their uterus. It’s
normal.”
 
“But I-”
 
Jon smothered her protest with a kiss, his finger slowly inching up and down
over her opening, causing her to swell. Suddenly she couldn’t care less what
they were talking about.
 
“Listen to your big brother,” Jon purred. Sansa shivered.
 
“If you were a good big brother, you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t- uh!” She gasped
and pressed his hand down harder, cluing Jon in to start inching a finger
inside. “You wouldn’t be touching me like this. You know I have a boyfriend,
uh, stupid.”
 
“Boyfriend?” Jon growled, pretending at playful jealousy. “You have a boyfriend
now? Does he touch you?”
 
“S-somet-times…” Sansa was already so close.
 
“Are you still a virgin sweetheart?” Jon asked, causing Sansa to nod
insistently. “I don’t know, I’d better check to be sure.”
 
Jon lowered himself in the water then, confusing Sansa slightly until she felt
his beard scratching against the inside of her thigh. Her eyes definitely
crossed then. Somehow the water enhanced some of the slippery sensations that
Jon’s mouth gave her, and the cloying floral smell of the bathwater made her
body feel thick and heavy. She came slowly, like a leak that grew to a stream
and then became a torrent. When Jon came back up, his hair whipped a little
water into Sansa’s eyes but she was past the point of caring.
 
“I know you… usually like two at a time… but I was… running out of air.”
 
“You’re forgiven,” Sansa gasped. “You surprised me with the brother-sister
stuff.”
 
Jon’s chuckle was a little too arrogant. “I know you like it.”
 
“You know nothing Jon Snow,” Sansa protested. “And I was only curious that one
time.”
 
“And came harder than a vegetarian at Oktoberfest,” Jon responded.
 
“Must everything you say be so clever?” She teased.
 
“Maybe I didn’t do it for you. Maybe I like it too.”
 
Sansa gave an exaggerated sigh as she turned and laid back against Jon’s chest
again, accepting the way he wrapped his arms around her, his meaty biceps
crossing over her chest.
 
“I suppose we must both live in sin then.”
 
They lounged in naked silence for a while longer as the water started to cool
and then become tepid. Jon offered to get out and stoke up his little jerry-
rigged burner, but Sansa was starting to feel pruned. They got out of the tub
and dried off, idly chatting about the new book Jon was reading, “Which Artys
Arryn?” and Sansa thought, for a dry non-fiction book, it actually sounded kind
of interesting, at least the way Jon described it. He offered to loan it to
Sansa when he was done.
 
Jon had to spend a few minutes draining the water and gathering up his tub toys
(“Must you call them that?”), so Sansa sat on the grass in her panties and
blouse, watching him work. Jon had redonned his pants but worked shirtless,
Sansa admiring again at how graceful Stupid Sexy Jon Snow could be.
 
It wasn’t just his movements though. It was his face too. She noticed that
Jon’s Eagle scar over his eye would often twitch when he was stressed, and Jon
would only smirk when he was thinking something perverted. The rest of the time
his smiles were always small, barely there, yet somehow illuminating his face
like a single candle in the darkness. His eyes, which had always seemed shady
and suspicious when they were younger, had a soft, grey color that made Sansa
think of reading romance novels on a cold rainy day.
 
Jon was definitely not conventionally handsome, but his long face had grown to
become pleasantly sharp and unquestioningly masculine. When he became angry,
that same soft warmth of his allure could become cold and shadowed, dark and
vicious. Mysterious. Obsessive. Tempting.
 
And based on the size of his bulge, Sansa just couldn’t believe Arya or Val’s
claims. Jon just had to be, as Myranda would say, packing something substantial
below the belt.
 
”Ugh, he’s made me such a pervert.”
 
“Any plans for tonight?” Sansa asked once they climbed back into the living
room. “I think Daenerys said something about a new bar she wanted to go to the
last time I saw her.” Sansa realized that was over a month ago.
 
Jon sighed. “Daenerys and I… we’re not…”
 
“Oh no, did you break up?” Sansa asked, one hand already at Jon’s shoulder to
reassure him.
 
“No, I mean, we weren’t really together, but no.” Jon seemed startled by what
he’d said. “I mean, we aren’t together. We’re still seeing each other.”
“Right. Good.” Sansa flicked a lock of hair out of her face in a lighthearted
sigh of relief. “Maybe she wants to come hang out? I’m down for a night of
Three’s Company.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Daenerys would love that.”
“Yeah…” Sansa let that hang for a moment. “I thought that’s why you like her?”
“It’s complicated, okay?”
 
“Hold on.”
 
Sansa sat Jon down on the couch and held a finger to his lips before holding
that finger up, indicating that Jon wait.
She went to her room and changed into pajamas, a white polka-dot cami that was
so soft it felt like wearing nothing at all, a white bow between her breasts.
She completed the outfit with cheeky matching shorts that had lacey ruffles on
the edges. Lady Shella’s sold it as regular sleepwear, so Sansa wore it as
such, even though her mother would have called it lingerie.
 
When she came back to the living room, Jon was where she left him. His eyes
bugged out a bit when he saw her, and his stupor only grew when Sansa got on
both knees next to him, wrapping an arm around his neck so she could scratch
her nails through his hair. Her other hand snaked between the buttons of his
shirt to rub his chest.
 
“Okay, go ahead.”
 
“Ahead with what?” Jon rumbled, his eyes trying so hard not to look at her
cleavage that they seemed to almost vibrate in his head for a moment.
 
“Tell me your troubles Jon,” Sansa said, her voice drizzled with innocence.
“You helped me realize some things about Harry when I needed it. Let me help
you.”
 
“There aren’t troubles. Daenerys isn’t doing anything wrong, she just…” Jon
paused, his eyes closed as he became lost in thought, or maybe he was being
soothed by Sansa’s touch. She liked to think it was that.
 
“She wants something from me that I can’t give her.” Jon blurted.
 
“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.
 
Jon seemed to struggle with something, and when he finally told her, his hand
was covering his mouth, like he was guarding Sansa from having to feel him
breathe the offensive words on her skin.
 
“She wants to know about my dad.”
 
“Oh. Oh!” Sansa was confused at first thinking of Father, until she realized
what Jon meant. Not Eddard Stark, but Jon’s biological father.
”Not focusing on that.”
“Does she know you’ve never met him?”
 
“Yes, and that’s the point,” Jon explained. “She says the only way we can move
forward is by understanding our past. Otherwise we’ll always be drawn back to
it, and if we look back we’re lost.”
 
“That certainly sounds like Daenerys. Ominous yet inspiring.”
 
Jon chuckled, giving a pleasured sigh when Sansa pressed her thumb on the
corner of his lips, marking that smile.
 
“She also keeps asking about meeting Catelyn and my friends and…” Jon’s eye
ticked to hers for a second, in a way that made her nervous.
 
“And what?”
 
“And moving in together.”
 
Sansa felt her eyes bulge now, but she wanted to be careful and not to say the
wrong thing. Part of her thought it would be sweet and nice if Jon and Dany
moved in together. A monumental part of her felt only misery at the thought of
going without her late-night petting sessions. Or her midday petting sessions.
Or the morning showers.
 
What would she do without Jon?
 
Sansa eventually managed, “Well that’s normal. Maybe a little soon, but
normal.”
 
“I just never imagined that for me and Dany.”
 
“What did you imagine?” Sansa asked. “Did you think it would be hot sex and
partying for the rest of your lives? You’re almost too old for such shenanigans
at any rate Jon Snow.”
“No, I know, I guess I just didn’t realize that that was what Dany wanted,” Jon
admitted. “If I had known…”
 
“… then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten together?”
 
Jon’s lack of answer was all the answer Sansa needed.
 
“What do you want Jon?”
 
They both seemed to realize how close they were sitting now. Sansa’s breasts
were sliding around Jon’s arm, her face hovering over his neck, her legs
snaking around his hip. Sansa realized it was the same position they were in
when Jon had felt her up on Beach Day, on the bench by the bumper cars. Only
this time Jon could feel how boiling hot Sansa’s body felt, and she didn’t need
to restrain herself.
 
Jon’s hand brushed over Sansa’s breast, his fingers feeling like they’d been
dipped in warm oil as he brushed the silky material over her nipple. Sansa
realized that Jon was seducing her without doing anything. It was like his body
was screaming with violent, disgusting, absurdly sexual malevolence yet his
face was soft as a lamb. Yet which was the real Jon? Which was the painted
shield and which was just Jon being himself?
 
“It doesn’t matter.”
 
Jon slipped away from Sansa but only for a moment. Pressing a light but
insistent hand on her knee, he spread her legs open and then unfolded them so
her feet were flat on the floor. His chest was between her legs, and he slipped
the shorts off of her in a flash. It was like a card trick. They were there,
then poof. Gone.
 
“Jon? Wait-“
 
“Shhh… let me give you what you want Sansa.”
 
“You don’t even know what that is!” Sansa argued, though her voice was feeble.
“If you wanted to give me what I want, you’d just talk to me.”
 
“That’s not what you want though,” Jon teased. His confident tone was annoying
Sansa a bit but her body didn’t share her troubles. She was already wet and
ready.
 
“What you want, is to test the limits of your body,” Jon explained as he
pressed slow, gentle kisses up her thighs. “You feel like men have used sex
against you your entire life, so for the first time, you’re going to jump
headfirst into the deep, dark well and see if you can slay the dragon yourself.
Then maybe no man will use sex against you ever again.”
 
”Well I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly…”
 
Jon pushed deeper, and Sansa’s legs lifted up. She slipped from sitting on her
butt to laying on her lower back as Jon shouldered one knee, then the other. He
pressed a few wet kisses over Sansa’s opening, a lewd sucking sound filling the
empty room. Usually Jon sort of… “feasted” on her, going fast, licking all
over, pushing and pulling all the right places, but this time he went slow.
Careful. It was almost more soothing than scintillating.
 
“Jon… fucking hells… I… you can’t…”
 
“Shhh… it’s okay,” Jon rumbled from between her legs, his words causing static
shocks in her bottom. “Let me take care of you for a while.”
 
“But I wanted to take care of you,” Sansa whined. “Why won’t you- ah! You talk
to me?”
 
Sansa managed to fold her leg back far enough to place her foot on Jon’s
forehead, shoving him away. Jon’s back banged on the coffee table, the crash
shaking them both out of the sex spell that had possessed them.
Her foot slipped down to Jon’s chest, pinning him there. Sansa felt powerful
and hot, and she held onto the feeling to try and resist Jon’s charms.
 
“You’re always talking about my problems, my life, my relationships. We never
talk about you.”
 
“Sansa-“
 
“And you won’t even let me touch you Jon!” Sansa shouted, giving an exasperated
laugh at how ludicrous this conversation was. “I mean, do you realize that I’ve
never even seen your penis? Meanwhile I should start charging your face and
fingers rent since they practically live inside my vagina.”
 
Jon barked with laughter then, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile as well.
 
“All I’m saying is I care about you Jon,” Sansa continued after the chuckles
faded. “I get it, I do. You like making girls feel good. You like fixing broken
things. And maybe it’s because… I don’t know, something to do with Ygritte or
your parents or not getting laid enough in high school, but you have to believe
me Jon. I care about you. I want to know you. I am not just some girl-”
 
“Of course not,” Jon interjected with a frown. “You are special to me Sansa.
You and Arya…” Sansa could see that Jon was restraining himself again so Sansa
tried to send him as much of her own false willpower to help him along. If she
could do it, maybe Jon could do too.
And if Jon said it first, it would be easier.
 
“You and Arya are my entire world now,” Jon explained, his blush matching
Sansa’s own. “My family. My home. My small joy at the end of a long day.”
 
“Oh Jon…” Sansa pulled her foot off his chest and reached for him.
But he pulled back.
“And that’s why this thing we do? It can’t be about me. Not even us. If it’s
just about helping you, pleasuring you, comforting you, that’s one thing. I
even like when you get all fun and spontaneous and sexual.”
“What a hero you are.” Sansa tried to restrain the bite in her sarcasm.
“Haha, hey, you want a meet a guy? I know guys. We got a uh… I forget his
official position but he’s like a CSI intern. Larence. He’s only a little older
than you. Want to meet a guy? I’ll set you up with Larence.”
“Who the fuck is Larence?!” Sansa shouted. She scooted her bottoms back on,
then scooted away from Jon, her forearms wrapped around her legs.
“I’m just saying… I’m here for you, in any and every sense, but if you want
more…” Jon gestured up and away.
He was pointing toward the door. Outside.
Other guys.
 
“But what about something more for you?” Sansa whispered, yet the question
crackled in the air. “Relationships aren’t just about giving Jon. That’s just
half of it. It's about opening yourself up to… to… I don’t know. Being willing
to accept a little bit for yourself.”
 
“I can’t.” Jon looked away. “I can’t be that. Not for… not for anyone.”
 
She didn’t know what to say. The logs in the fire finally cracked, the wood
whistling like nails on a chalkboard, as shards and splinters prickled
everyone’s legs, ruining the summer bonfire that blazed in her heart.
Sansa wished Jon was back between her legs, making the world feel like
marshmallows and whipped cream on pineapple mojitos. That was a better time.
Why had she wandered away from that?
 
“Poor Daenerys.”
Chapter End Notes
     Please leave a comment and a kudos! Every time I had writer's block,
     a few more would come in and inspire me to get back to work. It
     really does help!
     Also, I'm thinking of doing one-shots and drabbles in this 'verse so
     to speak, but with other pairings and POVs. So comment what kind of
     scenes or pairings you'd want to read and maybe something will
     inspire me!
***** Chapter 9 - Cabin Fever (Part 1 of 3) *****
Chapter Summary
     Sansa meets some old faces during Spring Break and things get a
     little crazy...
Chapter Notes
     This chapter begins a 3-part arc that gets quite smutty and dark. If
     you don't want smutty and dark and would rather make drama in the
     comments, don't read these next few chapters. Such comments, as I
     said before, will be deleted.
     Part 2 and 3 will arrive shortly, I promise.
     Legit though, things are gonna get very OTT in the smut area...
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sansa was greeted by high-ceilings with wooden rafters but the bed was what
took up most of the floor space and her attention. It was most certainly a
king-size, with comfy-looking silk sheets and intricately-carved wooden
bedposts, something that just screamed money. There was an adjoining en suite
bathroom and a sizeable walk-in closet, but even these dreamy touches were
eclipsed completely by the computer set-up.
 
While she wouldn’t consider herself tech-savvy, even Sansa could understand
that this computer was probably powerful, it’s hard drive looking twice as
large as the one that her father had used as a CEO. Three monitors were mounted
to the polished, dark wood of the desk, with a plush leather-chair in front of
it that looked as soft to the touch as lemon meringue.
 
The room was dripping with little touches of golden design on every wall and in
every corner. The decor bordered on the tacky side and clashed terribly with
the posters of scantily-clad women and expensive foreign cars, stuck to the
walls with scotch tape. For every decorative touch that Sansa admired, there
were just as many hints at a juvenile lack of care for this room that made her
wrinkle her nose.
 
Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt and harsh slap of her ass.
 
“Get on the bed,” he said before rushing toward the computer and waking it from
sleep mode.
 
“Yes sir,” Sansa said, trying to keep the cheek out of her voice as she rubbed
at her smarting rump and hopped up onto the elevated frame. “What are you
working on there, baby?”
 
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he grunted, barely able to hide the palpable
eagerness in his voice, even as he tried to sound menacing.
 
“But honey… I’m getting lonely…” Sansa whined with her most playful baby voice,
kicking off her trainers, sliding out of her slightly too-tight yoga pants, and
finally pulling her Lady Shella designed knit sweater up over her head.
 
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He had predictably turned to face
her, a sneer of condescending disgust on his lips, ready to spit some hateful
bile at her impatience. Instead the words faded away from him and became a
dumbfounded groan, his eyes bugging out, pupils dilated, and his breath
actually catching in his throat. It was kind of flattering really.
 
Though Sansa didn’t need any speechless reaction to know she looked good. Under
the comfy sweater and ordinary black leggings, was a tight, navy blue bodysuit
that hugged Sansa’s every curve in the most blatant ways possible. Though it
didn’t have the cute little navel cut-out that Arya’s infamous grey bodysuit
did, it astonishingly accomplished the impossible by being even more scandalous
with a line of slits along the sides that showed off Sansa’s ribs, all the way
down to her hips. The neckline, instead of being cut around the neck as named,
had a deep, plunging vee that reached quite a bit below Sansa’s cleavage. The
only thing holding everything up was the halter-top choker around her neck,
lifting everything up into a more perky placement.
 
On a girl with smaller breasts, the outfit would look a little silly. On a girl
with larger breasts, it might not be able to contain everything and she would
be flopping everywhere. On Sansa though, it was just tight enough to keep her
girls secure while also making sure that every detail of her body was visible
down to the nipple. It was the kind of outfit that Sansa would have never worn
in high school, definitely not at King’s Landing, and maybe even now on a
regular date with a guy she liked.
 
But this wasn’t some guy she wanted to jump into bed with. This was Joffrey.
 
“You… you never wore that when we were dating…” Joff said, awe in his voice
even as a frown started to form. “I guess you’ve finally started to slut it up
without me, huh? I always figured you for a girl with daddy issues.”
 
Sansa blinked and pushed the vomit back down to her stomach before smiling.
 
“Well… maybe you can be my new daddy.”
 
Joffrey’s eyes lit up as predicted, the consistent emerald green turning into a
jade wildfire of lust. He turned back to his computer and typed a few more
things before shutting the screen off, taking care that Sansa didn’t see what
he’d been doing. Sansa didn’t have much of a chance to look anyway, as Joffrey
rushed to the bed at a mad dash, banging his ankle against one of the bedposts
as he climbed on top of her.
 
His kisses were even worse than before; heated, rushed, with no idea of how to
use his tongue other than to jam it in her mouth and over her top teeth. Sansa
reached for the bottom of his shirt and helped it off of him, pressing her
hands to his chest so she could run kisses along his collarbone.
 
He wouldn’t have any of that though. Pushing her back, Joffrey quickly unzipped
his fly and lowered his pants around his hips, revealing a lack of underwear.
For some reason Sansa found that sillier than anything else and started
giggling, but before Joff could spin out into a rage, Sansa wrapped her fingers
around the shaft.
 
Though he groaned and let her stroke him at first, once again Joff would not
let her take control. Swiping her hand away, he grappled her hips and started
turning her over, though Sansa had to tell him to let go for a moment as she
got tangled in his comforter. Before she could even re-situate, he started
pawing at her ass, trying to shift enough of the fabric of her bodysuit over so
he could get to her opening.
 
“Bet you’ve been missing the magnum…” Joff sneered, almost like a threat. Sansa
had to literally bury her face in the sheets to hide her uncontrollable
snickering.
 
This was too easy.
 
*****
8 Hours Earlier
 
“Oh sweet Mother that is the good stuff…”
 
Sansa had to agree. Though Arya had obviously done more skiing, as well as
coming out to the slopes at six in the morning while Sansa had slept in until
noon like the gods intended, the whirlpool nonetheless made every ache and
numbness in Sansa’s body come alive with sensation.
 
“Sometimes I think this is the best part of going skiing,” Sansa said, reaching
up to make sure her hair stayed in its tight top bun to keep from getting wet.
“Not the skiing itself, but everything else after. The hot tub, the hot
chocolate, sitting by the fireplace.”
 
“That’s just being a lazy good-for-nothing. You can do that at home!” Arya
complained before sinking below the water’s surface and then immediately coming
back up a few seconds later, slicking her short brown hair from her eyes. “If
we got a hot tub at home, you probably wouldn’t even leave the apartment.”
 
"Jon already made me a hot tub at home.”
 
Instead of saying that though, Sansa agreed in good humor, and soon she and
Arya were discussing all the things they could do here at the ski lodge that
they couldn’t do at home. That quickly turned into a conversation about what
they would do for the rest of the break, though that conversation consisted
mostly of Sansa suggesting ideas and Arya shooting them down without any
helpful proposals of her own.
 
But they were in a hot tub, so who cared?
 
Enjoying her sophomore spring break with family wasn’t the “coolest” thing to
do, but Sansa was glad that Jon had convinced her to come. After weeks of
moping and feeling down on herself, Jon had suggested she do something fun to
shake herself out of her depression spiral.
 
Apparently, every year Jon and Val would pool their money together with other
friends and coworkers to rent out a ski cabin near Lake Tahoe, as a sort of fun
group vacation that none of them could normally afford on their own. This year
however, Pyp and Grenn had both gotten themselves girlfriends (finally,
according to Arya), Sam and Gilly had decided to instead take a trip to Braavos
as a couple, and Val had gone home up north to take care of a sick family
member. Jon had figured that there wouldn’t be any group ski trip this year.
 
Until Daenerys kindly and surprisingly bought out the cabin entirely on her own
dime. At first she’d implied that it was a birthday present to Jon, a romantic
getaway for just the two of them, but only a few days later she and Jon
suggested that Arya come along and bring Gendry. Sansa was a late addition to
the trip, once Jon realized her original spring break plans.
 
And even though staying at home and eating ice cream all week while watching
Great Pentoshi Bake Off had sounded like the perfect cure to her blues, Sansa
was glad that Jon had disagreed. A real vacation was just what she needed. It
gave her distance from her problems, distance from her friends… and it gave her
time to reassess.
 
When she’d rejected the contract offer from Mockingbird, Sansa’s biggest
anxiety was that she was making a mistake. Yes, it felt cool and rebellious to
turn down so much money and security to pursue a more independent idea of her
dreams, but she wasn’t foolish enough to misunderstand what she was
sacrificing. It was possible that Mockingbird’s contract offer would be her one
and only shot at becoming a real model.
 
Until a week later, when a California lifestyle magazine named Maiden Faire
reached out to Sansa about an opportunity. They had seen her Instagram as well
as the brand-new online portfolio that Myranda had helped her create, and they
had liked what they saw. They were even enthusiastic about her going to
Oldtown, since their marketing team was invested in getting more college-aged
readers.
 
When their publicist called, he explained that they saw Sansa as the perfect
fit to guest-edit their last spring issue of the season. Along with the normal
modeling stuff was an opportunity to write the magazine’s main editorial about
whatever topic she wanted. Not only would she be the centerfold model, but
Sansa would be on the cover that hit newsstands across the West Coast.
 
It was like a dream come true, validation that not only was Sansa good enough
to pursue this legitimately, but that she might actually find a way to be
successful at it. And all before she turned 21! She felt like her dreams were
becoming more solid, more gripped by reality. The risk of moving to a new
school, a new part of the country, a new career path, it was all paying off.
 
So of course it couldn’t last.
 
Before she could sign anything, the agency called the next day to tell her that
they had decided to go with someone else. That was bad enough, but a week later
Myranda found out through some digging that Maiden Faire had dropped her
because of gossip that Sansa was difficult to work with, and that she had done
too many risqué projects to be featured in a magazine as family-friendly as
Maiden Faire. There was no explanation for how or why the rumors started, what
projects she had done that were so inappropriate, no chance for anything at
all. They just forgot her and moved on to the next girl.
 
It had only been a possibility for a day, just one day, and yet Sansa felt like
she’d been kicked in the gut by a horse. She felt like a silly girl who had
gotten her hopes up too high, dared to dream to big, and lost everything
because of it. She wanted to quit modeling. She wanted to go back to
Mockingbird and beg them for a second chance. She wanted to scream into a
pillow or maybe cry into it instead.
 
Even now, the thought of that gut-wrenching rug-pull that fate had given her
caused fresh, hot tears to come to her eyes so Sansa shook it away and focused
on something else. Like Arya and her problems.
 
“So how are you and Gendry doing?” Sansa asked. She leaned her neck against the
edge of the whirlpool, stretching her legs out in the water and propping her
feet up on one of the steps.
 
“We’re fine,” Arya answered, wrapping her arms around her legs as she flicked
at a scab on her knee. “I mean, we’re Facebook official and everything now, and
he’s stopped trying to break up with me all the time, so… better.”
 
Sansa didn’t say anything, and Arya quickly acted to fill the silence.
 
“I know he likes me, and I know in my heart that we’re supposed to be
together…”
 
“… but?”
 
Arya gave something like a half gurgle, half groan. “… but… he won’t… we
haven’t…”
 
Sansa blushed. “Oh! Really? I would have thought-”
 
“I know, right!?” Arya said. “It’s like, he’s older than me, I know he’s more
experienced. I know for a fact that he’s had sex with at least two other girls,
so he can’t be nervous about it or something.”
 
“Well, you don’t know that,” Sansa said. “Having sex is one thing, but having
sex with someone you really, really care about can be intimidating.”
 
“And he doesn’t think I’m intimidated? I mean, I’m the vaginal virgin over
here!” Arya laughed. “And I know he wants to, I catch him looking at me all the
time and we do other stuff but it’s like… I can’t wait anymore. I’m so fucking
horny, like, all the fucking time. Not just for him, but in general!”
 
“Tell him that, guys love hearing stuff like that.”
 
“I already have! Multiple times! I’ve sent him dirty texts, dirty videos of me,
hell I even left him a dirty voicemail like it’s the fucking 90’s or something!
But no matter what I do, no matter how I hint at him or throw myself at him, I
just can’t get that big, dumb idiot to fucking fuck me!”
 
Arya grew more and more heated as she spoke, and on the last bit Sansa heard a
loud gasp. Glancing behind her, Sansa observed that the other whirlpool, the
second of the two outdoor hot tubs connected to the ski lodge’s spa, was
currently occupied.
 
A girl with golden-blonde hair, slightly curly in a way that could only come
from genetics and not a curler, was sitting alone in the bubbling water. She
had her hair up in a high ponytail, the end dipping into the water like a brush
into paint. Her face was hard to see as she was wearing wide, white-rimmed
sunglasses that completely blacked out her eyes. When they had first gotten
into their whirlpool, the girl had looked almost asleep, so Sansa had given her
little notice.
 
Now though, as the girl held a hand over her mouth in scandalized surprise,
Sansa took the time to really look at her.
 
And golly was there a lot to look at.
 
It would have been easy to say the girl was “perfect,” or “sexy,” or a “Lolita-
like wet dream come true,” so instead the word that Sansa locked onto was one
that Myranda had taught her: embonpoint.
 
The way she had defined it was “perfect bodily balance.” A girl who had
embonpoint was a girl who had just the right amount of height for her hips, and
would usually have more curves than average around her thighs and ass, without
being considered plus-size. You knew a girl had embonpoint when even her
silhouette flared out in all the right shapes.
 
The girl was wearing a pale-yellow bikini with white piping on the edges, two
triangles of fabric straining valiantly to contain her breasts, the pale zaftig
peaks spilling over the edges. Her thighs flared out in skintight tension with
the tightly wound strings of her bikini bottom, creating a beautiful contrast
between her slim, almost child-like waist that curved out toward plump, filled-
out hips.
 
Having learned more about the diversity of the female form from her art
modeling, Sansa was struck by how this girl’s body flawlessly encapsulated the
balanced edge a woman’s build could take between youthful and womanly. Her
face, arms, and waist seemed to suggest that the girl was even younger than
Arya, yet that was hard to believe when looking at, not only her obviously
prematurely developed breasts, but the soft, squishy verve of her thighs as
well. In some ways, this girl’s body was more mature-looking than Sansa’s own
substantial curves.
 
All the pieces put together made the girl strikingly attractive. Sansa, for all
her years of declaring openly and honestly that she was a straight (at best a 2
on the Kinsey scale, maybe 3 after a few tokes), she could not stop herself
from having one singular thought about this stranger.
 
”Yummy.”
 
The girl slipped and jiggled her way out of the hot tub and wrapped all her
delightful treats in a towel, glancing only once more at Sansa and Arya before
blushing and heading for the changing room door. On the way out, she bumped
into two figures who were leaving the men’s changing room, and Sansa could see
the visible yo-yoing of their eyes. The smaller one, who seemed a little bit
closer to Sansa’s age even though his paunch gut served to make him look 50,
was so stunned that he could only gape and gawk.
 
The older man though gave the girl a soft smile full of genial warmth that
didn’t quite reach his eyes. The girl smiled back, seemingly comforted before
she quietly apologized, padding past them to the women’s changing room. Though
Sansa could understand the need to look at the girl’s ass as she walked away,
she became concerned when the two men started whispering to each other.
 
Sansa’s concern grew to alarm when the men turned back around to the changing
room without even trying one of the hot tubs.
 
“Hey, are you getting pruney? I’m getting pruney.” Sansa stood without waiting
for a response from Arya, quickly wrapping herself up in a towel and grabbing
her phone and purse.
 
“What? We just got here. Hey!”
 
Arya griped and grumbled about wanting to stay longer, about how Sansa had
interrupted her when she was talking, but eventually followed without too much
protest. Usually Sansa liked to shower after using a public hot tub (other
people’s germs and all) but she focused instead on changing as quickly as
possible, making a quick aside to a still half-naked Arya that she would meet
her outside.
 
When Sansa stepped out of the changing rooms, past the spa exit that went
straight to the parking lot instead of the lodge inside, she quickly walked
over to the men’s changing room exit and opened the door, shouting to see if
anyone was stillinside.
 
There was no answer. Sansa’s heart rate picked up, even as she tried to calm
herself down, glancing around the parking lot for any movement. She was being
irrational, really.
 
But then she saw something. Three shapes in the distance, people. The air was
cold and she was still a little damp from the hot tub, pieces of her hair
freezing and sticking to her neck. Sansa could barely feel it though as she
walked toward the shapes, her gait turning into a jog when she could hear them.
 
“S-stop it, p-please just give me my keys, please.”
 
“I don’t know, I don’t think this is your car,” the sweet-smiling man said with
a grandfatherly chuckle. “In fact, I think you’re a dirty little thief.”
 
“More like a dirty little girl,” the younger guy sleazed, licking his lips as
he tried to massage the girl’s shoulders from behind, ignoring the way she
tried to shake him off. “You know what? This car is way too expensive for some
high school slut. I bet it’s really her sugar daddy’s car. Were you a good
little girl and earned this car? I’ve got some cash, maybe you can do some
stuff for me.”
 
“I’m underage you sick freak!” the girl shouted, tears coming to her eyes. She
was dressed in black yoga pants and a pale blue, fleece jacket, the zipper
drawn up only halfway as it strained against the girl’s considerable cleavage.
 
Except Sansa didn’t notice any of those things about the girl in that moment.
All she noticed was the girl’s pale green eyes, wide in fear as she pulled the
back of her jacket down over her backside, to keep the younger guy from trying
to rub himself against her ass. The older guy grabbed her by the forearm and
pressed it tight into her side before leaning his hips closer to her leg.
 
“Who the fuck cares?” he whispered.
 
“Hey!” Sansa shouted, thankfully causing both men to back away from the girl.
 
Freed from their grasp, the girl shouldered her purse and ran full tilt into
Sansa, hugging her into a death grip and babbling. Even now, at a moment where
Sansa was possibly walking into something quite frightening, she couldn’t help
but notice how much plump softness the girl had up top, matched only by the
lusty wiggle of her butt as she gripped Sansa even harder.
 
“Who the hell are you?” the younger man asked, anger mixing with caution in his
voice. “You her sister or something?”
 
“No, no, Joss, don’t you see, this is a concerned citizen,” the older man
laughed, pushing past his comrade to get into Sansa’s space. “But you needn’t
worry young lady, we were being good citizens as well. Checking in on this
little girl and making sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
 
“Th-they took my car keys,” the girl whispered into Sansa’s chest, being only a
little taller than Arya and therefore a head shorter than Sansa. “I mean, I-
I dropped them and he-he picked them up and I-”
 
“Can’t you see how hysterical she’s being?” the older man interrupted, now
standing so close that Sansa could see how yellow and brown his teeth were,
like he’d eaten nothing but sweets his whole life.
 
“Raff, let’s just go…” the younger man said, but was quickly pushed aside.
 
“We’ve got this. You can just run along.” The man, Raff, grabbed the blonde
girl and literally pulled her away from Sansa and into his arms. For such a
small, modest looking man, Sansa was struck speechless by how abruptly he
became physical. “Don’t make this into more than it is…”
 
“No, no, no, please, please…” the girl mumbled, unable to escape his grip
despite her efforts.
 
The predator was practically daring Sansa to do something with his eyes. She
could tell from the look he was giving her that he was willing to let this get
violent if needed, which terrified Sansa as they were in such a public, open
place. Anybody could see them.
 
Then again, men could be shameless about things like that.
 
Pulling her phone out of her butt pocket, Sansa opened the Instagram app and
started a live stream. At first Raff and his protégé-in-rape looked befuddled,
almost entertained, until she started talking.
 
“Hey everyone, so I’m at the Grey Cliff ski resort near Lake Tahoe, just
getting out of the spa, when I met these two gentlemen trying to abduct and
possibly assault this underage girl. Say hi guys!” Sansa turned the phone to
them so they could see themselves on the screen. Raff seemed confused but Joss
started to panic, especially when he saw how many people were joining to watch
the live feed. On a given day, Sansa could easily get at least 1,200 people to
watch and comment on one of her livestreams.
 
“The old balding guy is Raff, and I think the other guy is his son or
something, so that’s more disgusting foam on the top of this shit latte. Hey
asshole, tell me again how this girl is being hysterical for not wanting you to
fucking touch her anymore you fucking slimy piece of gutter shit?”
 
Raff took the bait and released the girl, marching toward Sansa with ferocity
in his eyes until Joss grabbed him again by the arm.
 
“Dude, let’s just go!”
 
“Not until I make this fucking cunt-”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
They all turned to see Jon walking up, Arya not far behind, his hair still wet
and pulled back into a manbun. Though it was 45 degrees out, Jon was wearing a
flannel button-down with no shirt underneath and tight, dark jeans. His right
hand was curled into a fist, the tendons in his bicep tightening and bulging
with promising threat. Though there was two of them, and Raff seemed a little
taller than Jon, there was no contest as to who was the greater physical
threat. Raff and Joss were opportunistic predators, nothing more. Jon ate guys
like them for breakfast.
 
Annoyingly to Sansa’s pride, Jon’s appearance seemed sufficient to finally
scare Raff off, the old pervert murmuring something about having better things
to do before he threw the girl’s car keys on the ground. They both scurried
away shortly after that, getting into an old, beat-up van and driving away.
 
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as all the tension left her body, while the
girl was practically crying tears of joy. Arya started jabbering on about
writing the guys’ license plate down while Jon knelt and picked up the girl’s
car keys, still kneeling as he handed them back to her.
 
It looked kind of like Jon was proposing to the girl.
 
“Here you go,” Jon said. “You doing alright?”
 
“Yes, I-I am so- thank you so much sir.” The girl’s voice was still squeaky
with adrenaline, her face red. She was fussing with her hair as she spoke,
trying to play off her tears and give Jon a bright smile.
 
“That’s good,” Jon said, the girl nodding her head so quickly that one of the
bobby pins in her hair popped out, causing her to “ope” in surprise before
slipping into a fit of giggles.
 
Sansa only allowed herself to roll her eyes when she saw Arya do it first.
 
“And don’t thank me, thank Sansa here,” Jon said with a nod her way. “Seems
like she helped you out long before I came by.”
 
The girl seemed to suddenly notice that Sansa was still standing there.
 
“Right, yes I- thank you so much, r-really,” the girl said. “I usually deal
with creeps like, all the time, but those guys were just, like, really
aggressive and… and scary and I just- I like froze or something and I couldn’t-
thank you, thank you, thank you, really, truly, thank you.”
 
“It’s alright,” Sansa said. “It was really nothing.”
 
The girl smiled but then frowned, as if she just remembered something. She
stared for a few more seconds, causing Sansa to wonder if she had said
something wrong, until the girl started to laugh. It was an awkward, sort of
embarrassed laugh though.
 
“I’m sorry, but your name is Sansa… as in Sansa Stark?”
 
“Uh… yes, I- have we met?” Sansa tried placing the girl but she was sure she
would have remembered someone not only so strikingly attractive, but someone
this specifically… distracting.
 
“In a way, but I was just a little kid at the time so you probably don’t
remember. My name is Myrcella Baratheon. You used to date my brother in high
school?”
 
The air, so dry and cold just a moment ago, seemed to be sucked up into a
vacuum, sound and light and movement all freezing still as a great blazing fire
ignited itself along Sansa’s spine. As the heat grew and grew, licking hot
tendrils of pain over her face, carving rivulets in her cheeks so her tears
could trickle down and steam on the pavement, Sansa’s vision bounced and then
turned, like the world was pitching to one side.
 
There was an odd, wailing noise, like someone shouting at her but from a very
long distance away. Sansa realized it was Arya saying something to her. A
deeper boom assaulted Sansa’s achy forehead, and she knew that had to be Jon.
She just couldn’t remember why she was here suddenly.
 
“Joffrey,” Sansa whispered. “Joffrey is here?”
 
No one responded because no one heard her. Jon was talking to Myrcella,
comforting her it looked like, while Arya was on her phone, talking to Gendry
probably. Watching the two conversations happen at the same time, Sansa
embraced the auditory chaos, Jon and Arya’s words blending and bleeding into
one another.
 
It kept her stable for a time. Breathing, focusing on the present moment,
remembering that she was safe now. She repeated a song she liked under her
breath over and over.
 
“Hey.”
 
Sansa snapped out of her trance and looked at Jon. His face was so handsome,
his beard starting to come in more and grow past scruff, giving him a bit more
of a wild, older look. Sansa liked it. She liked him. Jon was a good guy.
Remembering that helped Sansa calm down.
 
“Hey.” She smiled to show Jon that she was okay. “I’m alright. I-I was trying
the breathing exercises you told me about.”
 
“Oh good, I’m glad they’re working for you,” Jon said. “My therapist said they
could help with panic attacks, but to be honest it’s different for everyone.”
 
“Where is Arya? And that girl… Myrcella?”
 
“They went back inside,” Jon explained with a nod toward the ski lodge.
“Myrcella was still a little shaken up by what happened and Arya offered to buy
her a hot chocolate.”
 
“I’m sure she did that out of the goodness of her heart and not because you
asked her to give me a minute.” Jon gave a little shrug and Sansa pecked him on
the cheek for it. “Thank you. I’m okay. Really. I just… I need a second…”
 
“Hey,” Jon said again. “You did a really great thing here. You probably saved
that girl-”
 
“Girl… just a girl…” Sansa’s brain was finally catching up. “Joffrey’s sister,
I never even think about her… did she happen to mention where he is?”
 
Jon didn’t need to ask who she meant. “According to Myrcella, her brother and
his girlfriend went out into the town nearby to look at souvenirs and the pawn
shops. They’re all staying at a cabin that their grandfather owns out here, on
a family vacation I guess. Myrcella was bored and alone in their cabin so she
came up to the ski lodge to kill some time before her party tonight.”
 
“Party?” Sansa asked, now wondering how long she’d been spaced out for Jon to
have received the full rundown on the girl’s situation.
 
“Yeah, I guess part of the reason for the vacation out here is to celebrate her
birthday.”
 
Sansa frowned and had a thought, yet she felt a little embarrassed to ask Jon
about it. There was no safe way of framing the question without it sounding
accusatory, so Sansa tried to soften her suspicion with a smile.
 
“She told you it’s her birthday?”
 
“Well, it’s not her birthday today exactly, it’s erm, uh, tomorrow.” Jon
cleared his throat. “She said we were all invited to the party, for uh, you
know, helping her out and everything. She’s um… she’s a sweet girl, I think.
Tougher than she looks. Smart too.”
 
Sansa waited. Like with Arya, she just let the silence do her interrogating.
 
“What?” Jon finally snapped.
 
“How old is she turning?”
 
Jon ignored her and started to walk away.
 
“You have the face of an angel, but you’re a sinner at heart Sansa Stark.”
 
*****
Sansa couldn’t be sure what it was, but she knew it had to be something truly
spectacular.
Maybe he was a saint who had died for some powerful god, or maybe he had saved
thousands of orphans from a war-torn country, or maybe it was something more
simple like he’d discovered the cure for polio or smallpox. Maybe he’d been
born under a lucky star or maybe sometimes, to balance out all the truly
terrible things about the world, once in a while the gods decided to
overcorrect with one person.
Whatever the case, Jon must have done something truly miraculous in a previous
incarnation to deserve the life he had now.
“Oh, and here are some pics of me and my friends at a foam party in Myr. They
get really crazy out there, I think because the drinking age is like 14. Oh,
but don’t swipe through the pictures too far, a couple of them would be really
embarrassing for my friends lol.”
Jon’s eyes bugged out as Myrcella scrolled past one photo and his voice cracked
slightly when he spoke.
“Embarrassing for your friends, but not for you?”
“Well… I don’t like, embarrass easy? I’m totally mature for my age that way.”
Arya tapped one of her rings against her watch, the soft metallic tapping sound
indicating that that was the fourth time Myrcella had made a comment about her
age and relative “maturity.” Even Jon would get the hint at this point.
Sansa smiled and animatedly rolled her eyes for Arya’s enjoyment, glancing over
at Jon sharing an old, calfskin-upholstered loveseat with the teeny bopper. At
first Myrcella had tried to squeeze in next to Jon, squishing her wide,
scrumptious hips against Jon’s thigh. Eventually though she decided that that
was “like, way too uncomfy” and had instead opted for swinging her legs over
Jon’s lap. Jon had made mention about moving but every time he tried, Myrcella
had more pictures to show him on her phone.
“Okay, so, this next one is like, a little racy or whatever, but don’t judge
me, it was the Burning of the Ships festival in Dorne, and if you’ve never
been, it’s like a total frat party on acid-”
“And how many frat parties have you been to?” Arya asked.
Myrcella was suddenly tripped up and blushing. “I- well not really any, but
like, I meant, you know, in movies and stuff.”
“Right.”
Sansa frowned at her sister. Arya had been witness to Jon getting hit on
countless times, not to mention the times it must have happened before Sansa
moved in with them, but for some reason Myrcella had rubbed Arya the wrong way.
Though the girl was undeniably very extroverted and clearly interested in Jon,
Sansa saw it for what it was: just a kid trying to have some fun, nothing more.
Though Myrcella had been quick to take up all of Jon’s attention, as well as
the attention of pretty much everyone in the ski lodge’s lobby, Sansa couldn’t
judge her for that. Because Sansa remembered being the same way at that age.
When you were young and pretty and used to everyone’s attention and adulation,
you grew used to it. Sometimes your ego would get to the point that not being
the center of attention made you feel out of control of social situations and
jittery. Arya’ different experiences in high school probably precluded her from
feeling too much empathy however.
Having been cut down so publically in conversation, Myrcella fidgeted nervously
in Jon’s lap, trying to hide the embarrassment on her face. Though she and Arya
were around the same age, Sansa couldn’t help but focus on just how absolutely
different they were.
“So what school are you going to Myrcella?” Sansa asked, bringing the
conversation back to a place where Myrcella might feel more comfortable.
“Oh, um, well, my mom wanted me to go to KLU like Joff, but they wouldn’t let
me do the double-major I wanted. KLU I mean, not my mom,” Myrcella seemed glad
to be back on a good conversational footing. “So I’m going to Sunspear in the
fall, full ride and everything.”
“What are you double-majoring in?”
“Environmental and political science.” Myrcella shifted in Jon’s lap, leaning
away from him more so she could look at Sansa. “You know that like, our
government creates false scarcities in standard food production to like,
control the amount of interest we can subsidize on other global outreach
programs for refugees? Even though we have, like, totally the best agricultural
preservation practices of any known developed country in the world! Because of
like profit margins? Lol. It’s just so the authoritarian council of so-called
democracy that runs our country can continue to research the best way to make
our like, Anarchist, right-leaning polities switch to favoring a more feudal
idea of a controlling majority. That’s somehow, like, better than just having a
more socialized government? Like, as if, you know?”
Sansa was struck speechless, Arya looked like she had just witnessed a bear
juggle, but Jon chuckled.
“So you would prefer if our politicians were eco-socialists?”
Sansa and Arya both “huh”-ed at the same time but Myrcella’s eyes lit up as she
turned back to Jon and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Oh my gods Jon! You know about like, eco-socialism stuff?” Myrcella unzipped
her fleece jacket to reveal nothing but a tight, translucent-white tank top
underneath. “All the boys at my school don’t like, know what the fuck I’m
talking about half the time, jk, but seriously, that’s so cool.”
“Well, my friend Sam is very into it, he’s showed me a few articles from Spinx-
Thoughts-”
“I love that website! Oemgee Jon, we’re like, meant to be, but seriously.”
“Fuck this,” Arya mumbled, though only loud enough for Sansa to hear. Jon might
have heard as well, but Myrcella was going a mile a minute now, and it was more
than possible that he was having trouble focusing as she continued to shift
around in his lap, running her fingers over his neck and jawline.
“Hey, come on,” Sansa whispered to her sister. “Let’s get you a hot chocolate.”
“I don’t want-” but before Arya could finish, Sansa took her hand and led her
away, walking away from the set of couches and loveseats by the giant bay
windows that overlooked the ski slopes, over to the food table area where there
were some muffins and chips and other snacks for guests to take, along with a
large pot filled with pre-made hot chocolate. Sansa grabbed two paper cups and
filled them both, handing one to her sister even as Arya continued to stare at
Jon and Myrcella across the room.
“Okay, what is the deal? Why are you acting this way?” Sansa started.
Arya seemed at first like she was going to dismiss Sansa’s question until Jon
burst out into a large, gut-rolling laugh that drew both of their attention. He
was still chuckling, an uncontrollable vibration running through him as
Myrcella patiently waited for him to be done, biting the corner of her lip for
a second before involuntarily gasping when Jon patted her roughly on the back.
“Gods, sometimes I forget how fucking annoying it can be to hang out with Jon,”
Arya said, still summoning fire with her eyes.
Sansa smiled. “You love it when other girls hit on Jon.”
“I love it when women hit on Jon,” Arya corrected. “When he finds a lonely
divorcee at a bar, or some college chick with an asshole boyfriend who can’t
make her cum, or even the occasional club rat just looking for a hard screw,
I’m all on board. But this girl?”
Myrcella stood up and took the fleece jacket off completely, fully revealing
the tank top in all its bright white and very thin glory. The material extended
just low enough to cover the girl’s breasts, and even though she was wearing a
bra underneath, it was a dark green coloring that made it stand out in stark
contrast to the white material, almost emphasizing her ribs. When she sat back
down, rather than having her legs across Jon’s lap while squeezed in between
his hips and the loveseat, Myrcella placed herself right on Jon’s groin. It was
so blatant, Jon even lifted her up a bit to make sure she didn’t sit directly
on anything.
“Oh come on, you’re telling me you don’t find that annoying!” Arya pointed at
the two. “That doesn’t bother you? Seeing Jon have to baby that girl while she
makes an idiot of herself? She’s younger than me and she’s acting like a huge-”
“You know what I think?” Sansa cut in. “I think girls like Myrcella, girls who
are used to guys giving them attention without even trying, don’t know what to
do when they meet a guy who doesn’t like them back. So, sometimes, they act
silly and try to be the things that they think boys will like, like acting
stupid or vulnerable or whatever else.”
“But Jon’s not like that-”
“I agree,” Sansa interrupted again, now taking Arya by the hand. “I agree that
Jon is not like that, that he likes people who are true to themselves, which is
why he loves you so much.” Arya blushed and a little of her annoyance melted
away just like that. “But you know what else I think? I think that you aren’t
really annoyed with Jon being hit on, that’s like saying you’re sick of water
being wet. In fact, I would go as far as to say that you aren’t really annoyed
at Myrcella either-”
“Okay smartypants, then what am I annoyed about?”
“Gendry.”
Arya’s blush became a furious flush but she eventually nodded. “I just… for a
while Jon was supposed to… you know… be my first. Then I met Gendry, and I want
him to be my first, really I do, but I just… I don’t know… I wonder if maybe
Myrcella is a virgin too and if she is… it’s not jealousy really…”
“I understand.” And she did.
Arya smiled and shocked Sansa by actually giving her a hug and mumbling a
thanks into Sansa’s chest.
“If I’m not getting laid, it just doesn’t feel right that Jon should get to.”
That made both of them giggle.
“Oh sweet Mother, who is that delicious little treat?”
Sansa and Arya turned to see Daenerys walking toward them from the front
entrance, her eyes locked onto her boyfriend currently getting the PG-13
version of a lap dance. Though they couldn’t hear them, Myrcella was playing
some game now where she tried to do something to Jon’s hair, braid it maybe,
and he would try to fight her off but she would slip out of his grasp, causing
him to have to grip her again more tightly. Classic high school flirting.
“Hey, where’s Gendry?” Arya asked, glancing around to see if he was following
close behind.
“Oh, it’s a bit of a long story.” Dany managed to draw her attention away from
Jon long enough to address Arya directly. “He’s back at our cabin and he’s…
well, he’s not alone.” Arya frowned but before she could ask, Dany handed her
the keys to Gendry’s truck. “He said you knew how to drive a stick. He said to
come over as soon as you can, and that he’s got a surprise for you. I’ll catch
a ride with Jon and Sansa later.”
There was still some confusion on Arya’s face but after glancing at Sansa for
approval, and receiving a befuddled shrug along with a nod, Arya took off.
Though Dany glanced at Arya leaving at the ski lodge, her attention was quickly
drawn back to Jon and Myrcella. Her eyes stayed focused on them even as she
spoke to Sansa.
“So how were the slopes?”
“They were good. Arya showed me a few tricks to master the intermediate ones,
though I still felt dreadfully awkward the whole way down the mountain. How was
caving?”
“You know, I thought I would just do it and cross it off my bucket list, but
Gendry found a way to really make it fun and interesting.”
“And along the way, come up with a special surprise for my sister?” Sansa
asked.
“Not so much a surprise but more a… possible solution to their problems,”
Daenerys said, glancing at Sansa and taking a sip from Arya’s abandoned hot
chocolate. “I’m sure Arya shared with you the status of her and Gendry’s
relationship?”
“She made mention of some things.”
“Well Gendry made mention of some things too, and I suggested a solution that,
while reluctant to try it at first, I feel confident I assured our large friend
that it is the best course forward.” Dany placed the cup back on the table and
turned to Sansa. “Let’s just leave their private matters private for now while
you tell me all about that girl currently doing everything possible to mount my
boyfriend.”
“Her name is Myrcella. She was here at the spa at the same time as me and Arya.
She’s going to Sunspear in the Fall and she’s out here on vacation with her
family.” Sansa felt it would be strange mentioning the two men, like she was
highlighting her own bravery or something, so she decided it was best to just
leave that part out.
“Hmmm… so she’s still in high school, 18 at the oldest but probably not…”
Daenerys sighed. “Then Jon will never sleep with her. Pity.”
“Really?” Sansa asked. “You’re that sure?”
“Jon thinks of himself as a reformed bad boy,” Daenerys explained. “Yes he’ll
have a lapse every once in a while, in no small part thanks to my urging, then
we hit the town and tear up some fresh flesh, but most of the time? Jon wants
to slow down. He wants to be different. Sleeping with a girl who doesn’t even
obey the ‘half your age plus seven’ rule? No, Jon would never go for it.”
Though Sansa hadn’t thought of Jon in that way, she immediately agreed with
Dany’s assessment. Jon could be rebellious, argumentative, even… naughty… at
times, but ultimately what he wanted most was to be a good person. Being a good
person and being a manslut were not mutually exclusive but if Jon had to choose
to be one or the other… Sansa agreed that he would choose the boring option.
“It’s more than that too,” Sansa added. “The girl is actually the younger
sister of one of my exes.”
“Really? Small world.”
“Yeah, and this one was a particular piece of work, so I know Jon wouldn’t get
involved with someone that close to him. He’d worry that it was too much stress
for me and to be honest, I don’t know if he would be completely wrong.”
“Broke your heart that badly, huh?” Dany followed the question by wrapping
herself around Sansa’s hip. “I know that feeling.”
“No, more like he was a right bastard to the point that even thinking about him
gives me a panic attack.”
“Ah,” Dany nodded, squeezing Sansa even closer. “I know that feeling too.”
Sansa sighed, her breath shuddering a little. “How did you get over it?”
Dany smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of nostalgic joy. It reminded Sansa briefly
of the look Raff had had on his face when he started crowding Myrcella in the
parking lot, before Sansa had jumped in. It was a satisfied smile that also
held a threatening promise. It was predatory and inviting.
“Well, this one time, I-”
“GET OFF MY SISTER YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!”
“Joffy!”
Like the sound of thunder warning of an impending flash of lightning, Sansa
heard before she saw a disaster play out.
Joffrey, who had once been the most handsome boy in school, with his elegant
soft features, bright and hypnotizing green eyes, and pouty pink lips that
always made his grins look a little defiant, a little more handsome, had
clearly seen better days. His features had become marked by frown lines and
poorly healed scars, sleep bags under his eyes and a gross white film on the
corner of his mouth. His lips were chapped, his eyes red, and his snarl, which
had always been ugly, looked downright menacing now.
Myrcella had changed too. The soft-spoken, nervous girl who had allowed Raff
and Joss to push her around and press themselves against her body, was suddenly
returned, the waifish firecracker who talked about weird green initiative stuff
with Jon dissolving away into smoke. She stared at the ground as Joff hovered
over her, shouting and berating her with foul language.
“What the fuck are you doing acting like a dirty whore for this idiot, huh?
Don’t you have any fucking self-respect you slimy little cunt? Huh!?” Joffrey
followed his question by picking up the fleece jacket Myrcella had dropped over
her purse and wrapping it around her chest backwards, pawing and shaking her
arms and breasts. “If you don’t cover yourself, it won’t be my fault when every
guy here fucks you so hard that your cunt rips out of your asshole, is that
what you want?”
“That’s enough.” Jon’s voice was hard yet smooth, like a velvet glove wrapped
around an iron fist. “You don’t need to demean her-”
It spoke to how much Joffrey had changed, and not for the better, that he
didn’t even bother looking at Jon or ask who he was. He just went straight for
violence.
After the punch landed, Jon took a step back, dazed but still on his feet. He
brushed his hand over his lip, coming away with some blood but otherwise
seeming fine. He looked more annoyed than anything.
“Alright, you get that one free shot, after that-”
Joff didn’t let Jon finish. He took another swing, landing a harsh haymaker
across Jon’s cheek before following it up with a second punch to Jon’s gut.
That one did knock Jon off his feet, crumpling him to the ground. Jon was bent
over now, holding his hands to his stomach in pain, his head down. Joff seemed
satisfied by that, grabbing Myrcella by the shoulder and herding her away but
she had to stop him for a moment as she tried to grab at her purse. Joff
snatched it away from her and fished through it.
“Margaery took the car, so I need the keys to yours.”
“That’s fine Joff, just please, please calm down, please.” Myrcella kept her
head down and stared at the carpet as she pleaded.
Sansa was about to intervene when Jon stood up. It wasn’t a jump up, like he
had been called to action or was eager to defend Myrcella. It was more like a
slow draw off the ground, like he was still in pain but fighting through it.
Joff seemed to notice his weakened state too. Once he had a hold of the car
keys, Joffrey dropped the purse at Myrcella’s feet and walked over to Jon, even
gripping him by the shoulder. It looked like he was helping Jon up a bit, like
he wanted to go for a handshake.
Instead it was another punch. Only this time Jon was ready.
Deflecting the punch with one hand, Jon turned his grip so that he gripped
Joffrey’s wrist and pulled him forward, almost bringing them face to face.
Except at the last second Jon pitched his head forward into Joffrey’s nose. The
loud crunching noise was followed by a spurt of blood spraying into the air.
Then Jon head-butted him again. And again. And again.
After the last one Joffrey fell back and curled into a fetal position, his
hands over his face as blood seeped between his fingers. Jon steadied himself
above Joff, pitching from side to side for a moment before he regained his
balance. His lip was still bleeding from the first punch, but now Jon also had
a trail of blood streaming down his forehead from where he had head-butted
Joff. As the trickle slipped past his nose and down his cheek, Jon licked the
blood trail off his lips and spat softly, a mad smile coming to his face.
Sansa felt her panties get heavier with moisture.
“Alright, all of you out!!” one of the lodge employees finally shouted,
bringing this circus to a close.
Chapter End Notes
     This was a lot of set- up, but I promise you, the next chapter's
     gonna get smuttier...
***** Chapter 10 - Cabin Fever (Part 2 of 3) *****
Chapter Summary
     More old faces, more intense situations, but Sansa is feeling
     confident.
Chapter Notes
     This was a beast and a half, but officially all the set-up is done,
     and now the fun really begins.
     If you don't like what the tags promise, didn't like certain past
     chapters... you won't like what's coming.
     For the rest of you, buckle-up.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Sansa first met him, she was 13-years-old, and Joffrey went on and on
about a band called The Freak Outs. Later that day Sansa would immediately use
her father’s computer to comprehensively educate herself on everything about
said The Freak Outs. Their best songs, the band members’ names, even tour
dates. She joined their fan club online to receive regular news about them and
bought some posters so she could put them up in her room, removing the standard
boy bands and teenage heartthrobs from her walls to make room for her new
favorite; whatever was Joff’s favorite.
Even then she was fantasizing about marrying Joffrey. The images in her head
were childish but without fail made the butterflies in her stomach explode with
joy. She would wonder if Joff was a good kisser. She hoped that he would be her
first. A few weeks later, her dream came true.
In high school they officially started dating, and even though at times it was
stressful, Sansa remembered it being the best part of her young life. Whether
it was struggling with her school work or her waistline, Sansa always comforted
herself by remembering that the most handsome boy in school liked her and
kissed her and no one else.
How naïve she had been.
When Joff graduated, Sansa was still a senior in high school but her heart was
already at KLU. There were times when she ditched plans with her friends just
to Skype with Joff or would lie to her parents about sleeping over at Jeyne’s,
really doing the three-hour drive at night to campus. She skipped classes
whenever he visited so she could spend the whole day with him, the two of them
sometimes never leaving her bedroom for hours. Sansa remembered spending her
own money on plane tickets once, just to visit him at KLU instead of having a
Christmas break with her best friends, friends who she never spoke to again.
She tried not to think about that now.
At first Joff had done a great job of keeping up communication and making her
feel secure in their relationship, but by November he was missing almost all of
their phone dates and ghosting her texts. Sansa didn’t say anything but instead
became particularly focused on hurrying along her senior year so she could
graduate and be by her beloved Joffrey’s side… and keep an eye on him.
Clearly he had moved on from her by the time she got to KLU. Sometimes when in
front of people he knew, he would act like they’d never met before, so Sansa
tried to give him some space. She made new friends, found new interests, and
tried to shape herself into the kind of interesting, special person that
Joffrey deserved. Even the idea of having a good career and following her
passion was filtered through the lens of how Joff would react. Everything for
Joffrey. She really would have given him the world if he had just asked.
The distance worked. After dating one or two guys in her dorm and acing her
first midterms, Joff suddenly found more time to spend with her, and even
introduced her to some friends he had made in his first year. The first time he
called Sansa his girlfriend at a highlighter party, she practically broke down
into tears of relief. Joff’s friends were mostly cocaine-heads and frat bros,
but they were Joff’s friends and so they were her friends too.
Her joy was brief though as Sansa slowly came to understand that Joff’s
attention was all she was allowed to have. Joining a sorority? Bad idea.
Applying for a graphic design internship? What was the point? Making a new
straight male friend? Out of the question, even though Joff’s own friends hit
on her constantly and sometimes quite aggressively. Even when she thought about
joining the intramural volleyball team, just to have something to do that
wasn’t schoolwork, Joff had an objection.
“Only sluts join the volleyball team,” he had sneered, shocking Sansa even
though she had heard him use such language before. Just never with her.
By the end, he never even called her by her name. It was either, “you,”
“idiot,” or “slut,” right up until the day she left him. She didn’t regret the
relationship though and she promised herself she never would. Because being
with Joffrey taught Sansa that the only person who could give you self-worth
was yourself and she would never forget that lesson. Even now, whenever Sansa
felt particularly lonely and sad, like the world was working extra hard to
remind her that she sucked and was kind of selfish sometimes, she would notice
that those voices always sounded remarkably like Joffrey. And then she would
remember, Joffrey always lied.
In a way, he was still haunting her. Still trying to control her.
“Oh fuck, that hurts.”
Sansa sighed and turned over the ice pack, the refreshingly cooler side making
Jon sigh in pleasure as it was pressed against his forehead. The butterfly
bandage underneath was coming loose from moisture, but still valiantly held on,
pulling the cut tightly closed and stopping the bleeding. Though Jon was
resolute that he was fine, the continued stream of blood had caused both Dany
and Sansa to recoil in disgust.
Having been roundly booted from the lodge, Dany offered to drive while Sansa
nursed Jon in the back with ice and antiseptic. Joff and Myrcella were still
there when they left, Joff doubled-over on the ground in pain while his sister
looked on the edge of tears. Sansa had a wild thought that they should offer to
drive Myrcella home, but one look at the girl made Sansa rethink that idea.
Before Myrcella had stared at Jon with a juvenile, palpable lust in her eyes,
but at that moment it was replaced by terror and paralysis.
Jon sighed and wrapped his arm around Sansa’s shoulders, though he seemed to do
it thoughtlessly as he chuckled to himself and rubbed a palm across his lips.
Sansa had suggested that he might have a concussion but Jon was stubborn. She
deferred to his judgement for now.
“Hey… are you okay?”
It took Sansa a moment to realize Jon was speaking to her. “What? Yes, I’m
fine. You’re the one who mutilated himself just to make a point, you big drama
queen.”
“Yeah, I guess I did do that, huh?” Jon giggled.
Sansa smiled. “Idiot.”
After about 20 minutes they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. Sansa opened the
car door for Jon and helped him up the steps to the front door, though he was
playfully shooing her away the whole time. Sansa figured it was safe to stop
babying him after that. Dany had already given up on trying to help, saying
that he was too determined to act tough, so she went on ahead of them while
Sansa and Jon walked more cautiously through the snow and sleet.
“I’m sorry if I made it worse somehow,” Jon said. “I was just trying to… I
don’t know, probably nothing good. I admit it. I just didn’t like the guy and I
wanted to hurt him, but I’m sorry if that hurt you too.”
Sansa shook her head. “Honestly, seeing him again and seeing how bad he’s
gotten or… I don’t know, realizing how bad he always was… it hurts now but
maybe it’s good. The past year I’ve been building him up in my head and now
that I’ve seen him, it’s like I suddenly remembered that he’s just a guy.
Worse, an asshole. One who my best friend can knock out without using his
hands, which is good to know.”
Jon frowned. “Best friend?”
“Yeah,” Sansa felt the bridge of her nose flare up with heat. “I mean, I get
that your best friend is probably Sam or Val or whoever, and that’s fine. But
recently I’ve come to realize how much I rely on you, and just, you always look
out for me… I’m lucky to have you in my life.”
She was about to open the front door when Jon pulled on her arm and enveloped
her in the warmest, nicest hug in the world. Sansa felt ashamed that her first
thought was about how tight and formed his muscles felt under his shirt and she
burned those feelings away when she nuzzled her nose into Jon’s hair. Musky
wood, dead leaves burning, some sort of spicy peppery flavor, maybe from
something he’d eaten. He was comfort and warmth. Innocence settling in her nose
and dreams clouding her brain.
“You’re my best friend too.”
They stayed like that for a while, maybe longer than it felt because Daenerys
had time to come back out and awkwardly pause when she saw them hugging. Sansa
lifted an arm off Jon’s back to wave Dany in and Jon’s platinum blonde
girlfriend smiled prettily before joining them in a group hug.
It felt better than anything Joff had ever made Sansa feel. No contest.
Jon was the first one to break away. Sansa was bewildered and endeared when she
realized Jon was getting choked up, looking away and coughing into the crook of
his elbow to hide the sudden display of emotion. Dany sensed her boyfriend’s
discomfiture and smiled conspiratorially at Sansa. While Dany wasn’t her best
friend or anything, Sansa really liked the girl and wanted to be closer with
her. She was beautiful and strong, and kind. She deserved a hug for that if
anything else, so Sansa gave her one.
“Um, I’m glad we’re having a moment, but I came back out to let you know that
Gendry and Arya are also having a bit of a moment, so maybe we should give them
some space.” Dany glanced over at Jon as he was regaining his composure. “I was
thinking we could go to that bar and grill you noticed on the road yesterday
and guilt Sansa into paying?”
Sansa laughed.
“Alright, fine by me,” she said. “I just need to pee real quick and then we can
go.”
Perhaps if Sansa had been a bit more emotionally stable, she would have thought
about what Dany said. Perhaps if Sansa didn’t need to pee so badly, she would
have waited to go at the restaurant and everything would be different. Perhaps
if Sansa had listened as Dany suddenly and alarmingly tried to warn her not to
go inside, Sansa wouldn’t have been scarred for life.
If, perhaps, maybe.
“Ohhhh… FUCK!”
“Uh, uH, UGH!”
Gendry was always a big guy, but at the moment he looked enormous as he stood
behind the living room couch, thrusting slowly but sturdily. The woman’s
stomach was draped across the back of it, her hair fanning out across the
cushions. His hands looked huge around her hips, his thumbs only a few inches
from each other across the girl’s spine, where just below was a tattoo of
twinning green and golden roses.
Though Gendry wasn’t an exercise nut like Jon, lacking the carved-out abs,
pectorals, and biceps that came from hours of living at the gym, his body just
naturally looked strong. He was a big guy who mostly worked physical labor jobs
his whole life, and it showed. The dark hair on his forearms, normally a turn-
off for Sansa, only emphasized how broad they were. His hands, rough and
callused, looked thick and nimble in a way that Sansa had never noticed before
until now. His shoulders were even wider set than Harry’s! Gendry had always
had a titanic presence when clothed, and seeing him naked now… he was
practically godly.
Sweat worked itself down his neck and over his chest, small droplets that
reflected the kitchen lights sprinkling onto the girl’s back. The girl, who was
very obviously not Arya. While Sansa felt herself becoming aroused at the sight
of this, she tempered those emotions with dismal fury. No matter how hot Gendry
was, no matter how strong he looked, no matter how-
Holy shit his cock was fucking huge.
Like she could hear Sansa’s thoughts and vociferously agreed, the girl abruptly
crooked her neck up, sending a wave of brunette curls away from her face as she
glanced back at the culprit responsible for the harsh pounding she was
receiving. She hadn’t even noticed Sansa in the room yet, though Gendry seemed
to, even as his movements did not pause a bit. He frowned at Sansa and then
gasped.
“Wait, wait, we have to stop-” he grunted, still nevertheless thrusting.
“No, please don’t, I’m almost there,” the girl moaned, until she noticed Sansa
and gasped as well. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?!”
“I can’t- she doesn’t- oh FUCK!!” Gendry shouted to the ceiling.
“Wait, yes, yes! I feel it inside me! Fucking YES!!”
Suddenly Gendry did stop thrusting and instead started shaking, a violent
vibration coursing through his hips and then his stomach before he collapsed
onto the girl’s back. His arms, built like jet engine pistons and easily
supporting both his and the girl’s weight before, loosened up like Jell-O. It
was like witnessing a tower of flesh collapse in on itself after years of age
and hard use.
”He might be feeling good now, but I’m going to make him suffer for the rest of
his life.”
Sansa didn’t know where Arya was or what she was doing, but her little sister
would never suffer a shitty boyfriend like Sansa had. Sansa forbade it. If this
was how Gendry acted on vacation with his girlfriend’s family, then he was
worse than Joff as far as she was concerned. The rage Sansa felt was for Arya,
but the disappointment she felt came from her own personal feelings of
betrayal. How could Gendry mislead them all so terribly? Sansa had always
thought he was such a sweet boy.
“How dare you?” Sansa started with that. “How could you do this to Arya? You
fucking asshole.”
“Sansa?”
Hearing Arya’s voice, Sansa was snapped out of her red haze of wrath and looked
away from Gendry and the woman’s moaning, groaning, sweaty forms.
Only to see Arya standing behind Gendry, equally sweaty. Not only that, but she
was completely naked save for underwear and she was standing on… an apple box?
Sansa realized, after making a closer inspection, that it was indeed an old
apple box. But those were not underwear that Arya was wearing. They looked more
like… straps?
“Arya?”
“Uhhh….” Arya seemed to move, like she was trying to get off the apple box and
walk up to Sansa, but she immediately paused when Gendry gave a loud groan.
“Arya, wait. Sansa doesn’t kno- ah, ah…”
“Sansa?” This one came from the girl. “Sansa Stark?”
Without the red, sweaty frown of exertion on her face that came from being so
close to orgasm, Sansa realized she recognized the girl.
“Margaery?”
“Margaery?” Gendry asked, slowly standing as Sansa heard a soft, wet pop and
Arya’s bare feet smacking on the hardwood floors as she stumbled off the apple
box. “You told me your name was Alayne.”
“I- it’s complicated…”
Margaery, and Sansa was sure it was Margaery now, stumbled with her words a bit
while Arya circled around the couch. Now Sansa could see clearly the six inches
of purple, flexible tubing jutting out from her sister’s hips.
“Arya?”
“Um… in my defense, the bed in our room was too small.”
*****
Apparently, despite having a very appealing everyman, rough-around the edges,
dashing quality about himself, Gendry had lived a very solitary, lonely
childhood. All the way through high school he didn’t have any friends
(according to him), his parents had long left or passed away, and even after he
graduated, it took a year for him to find his people. In that time, Gendry had
gone on dates and took an interest in girls, but for the most part he hadn’t
had much luck.
Then he finally met and fell in love with a girl named Willow. She was tall
with strawberry blonde hair, loved to play the piano, and went to nursing
school. She was Gendry’s first and she was also the person he had most explored
sex with, which was a blessing because the girl was both patient and
experimental.
A blessing because Gendry lived a life that most men thought they wanted, but
one that was deceptively trickier than porn would teach you.
You see, Gendry had a very, very large penis.
Instead of casual hook-ups and the ability to get whatever woman he wanted
though, Gendry lived his days mostly wearing uncomfortable pants. He had to buy
a very specific type of underwear or risked public indecency charges. Sometimes
if he became aroused when he was already tired, he would risk light-headedness
and passing out. He even had trouble achieving orgasm at least half the time
because his prodigious sex organ required so much more blood than average to
maintain an erection. Not to mention the stress of having to work ten times
harder to ensure he wasn’t hurting his partner.
Eventually Willow and Gendry broke up, and she tried to tell him it didn’t have
to do with his penis, which had made every sexual experience they’d ever had
together at least a little painful, embarrassing, or both. Gendry however was
filled with doubts. He couldn’t help but think that there was something wrong
with his body and in turn with him. He felt unattractive and unwanted. He
retreated further into himself and his self-pity.
He dated one girl after that who showed him a trick that helped with some of
Gendry’s performance issues and that trick was his good old prostate. Though
strange to him at first, Gendry eventually grew to like it for the extra
stimulation, which made it easier for him to have more consistent and
satisfying orgasms during intercourse. It didn’t help with everything but it
helped a little.
Eventually when Gendry and Arya started dating, he became increasingly anxious
as their relationship progressed. He was the older, more experienced one, yet
all his experiences with sex came with so much baggage and effort. He wasn’t
sure he wanted to put that on Arya. She liked to joke sometimes that she wanted
his bigger package, with that air of self-confidence and nymphomania that Arya
was so good at faking, but Gendry knew her better. She was wandering in the
dark just as much as him and relying on Gendry to show her the way.
It seemed like the end was in sight for their relationship and that panicked
Gendry terribly because this one felt so much more real and different. He
admitted to Dany while they were caving that he thought Arya might be the One.
If his big fat dick didn’t screw everything up.
“At this point in the story, I felt the boy was being ludicrously maudlin. It
was a bit of a gamble, but I suggested something he could do as a sort of…
educational alternative to regular intercourse. It would be satisfying for
Arya, while also creating a bond of trust with her for Gendry that would help
them both when it was time to do the deed.”
“And that suggestion was pegging?”
Dany’s eyes glimmered as she took a sip of her red wine, clearly delighted that
she had shocked Sansa so much. As much as Sansa thought of herself as being
open-minded, becoming only more so as she continued to live on the West Coast,
this was frankly on a whole new level. It was hot… but also scary, and not a
fun scary. And yet, if it worked for Gendry and Arya… who was she to judge?
“Not just pegging, but cooperative play,” Dany continued after she was
satisfied with Sansa’s embarrassment. “You see, Gendry’s biggest worry was
about Arya, not just that he didn’t want to hurt her but that he wanted to make
her feel good.”
“Well… and Arya is a very petite girl,” Sansa said, shuddering to think of
herself taking the giant monster she had witnessed between his legs.
Then she reminded herself that that type of thinking was exactly what Gendry
had agonized and fretted over for so long, and Sansa felt a small singe of
guilt from that.
“Yes, but I told him, if a vagina can stretch for a baby it can certainly do
the same for him. He just needs to learn Arya’s pace and everything will be
fine. And what better way for him to learn her pace than for her to just show
him herself. Maybe with a little help from a more experienced, female
perspective.” Dany finished her glass and placed it on the table, reaching for
the bottle to pour herself another.
“I was hinting at myself of course, but then we met Alayne on the way to the
lodge, and she said she had some experience with a comparable situation. I
suggested that Gendry discuss it with Arya and that’s all I suggested, I swear.
I had no idea the discussion would go so well.”
Sansa felt dazed and so sipped at her own glass of wine. She and Daenerys were
sitting at the dining table in their cabin, a bottle of Pinot between them, the
alcohol helping to settle her nerves. After everyone screamed at each other in
shock for a few minutes of general mayhem and panic, things ultimately settled
down into naked awkwardness. Though that had been almost an hour ago, Sansa
felt like she was still flashing back to that moment.
“So, now I’ve reported on everything that happened, as promised,” Dany said.
“It’s your turn. What’s your connection to Alayne? Is her name actually
Margaery?”
“Her middle name is Alayne, but I always knew her as Margaery.” Sansa swirled
the red liquid in her glass, letting herself get lost in the smooth waves and
ripples as she tried to think of where it was best to start. “She was my big in
our sorority at KLU, but she was also my best friend for a while. We did
everything together my first year and I liked her so much. She was always so
cool and confident and she loved to help me dress up and… I was kind of in love
with her, you know? Not like, romantically but…”
“She betrayed you.” It wasn’t a question.
“After I broke up with Joffrey, everyone in the sorority, all of my so-called
friends, turned on me. Started spreading rumors about me. Lying about me. Joff
said I cheated on him and acted like a crazy person our whole relationship,
saying things like I stalked him and sent him creepy texts or something. I
thought it was fine, that everyone would understand that Joff was lying, but
then Margaery believed him.”
“It’s always disappointing when women let other women down,” Dany said, and
Sansa was glad she did it so Sansa could stop thinking it.
“I just couldn’t understand why she would believe him over me, after everything
I told her, after everything she witnessed Joffrey do. I thought at least one
person would speak up for me and I had hoped it would be her. She was the
chapter president and once everyone knew she believed Joff over me, it’s like
that decided it for everyone else. She just… it was easier for her that way, I
realize now. She never really cared about me. I was just a… passing distraction
for her or something. She didn’t owe me anything.
“A week after we broke up, she started dating Joff.”
Dany sighed, her nostrils flaring as her lips pinched together so hard they
became white. Even though Sansa wasn’t finished with her current glass, Dany
picked up the bottle and poured, topping Sansa off with more than she wanted
but definitely not more than she would drink. Putting the bottle down, Dany
leaned forward with her hands steepled in front of her face.
“I am so sorry for that Sansa. Truly. You don’t have to deal with her. I’ll
make sure she leaves and you won’t have to talk to her.”
Sansa smiled in gratitude but said nothing. Taking a long drink from her wine,
she thought again about that day, after everything. After Joffrey, after Petyr,
after her life felt like it was over. She’d needed to grab some clothes she
left at the chapter house before she caught her flight back to Connecticut,
back to home. She had purposefully waited until the middle of the day to visit,
when most of the sisters would be in class and Sansa wouldn’t have to face
them.
Only Margaery was there.
“He’ll hurt you Margaery, just like he hurt me,” Sansa had pleaded with her
former friend one last time, ready to show her the bruise Joff gave her on the
night she told him it was over.
But Margaery turned away and would not look.
“I don’t know where those bruises came from. You probably had one of your other
boyfriends give it to you for all I know. Joff is too classy to say it, but you
have a real lying problem Stark.”
And until today, that was the last time Sansa ever saw her.
Margaery finally left Gendry and Arya’s room, though now fully dressed. She was
wearing a light green blouse made of a slightly translucent material with a
zip-up leather mini-skirt and knee-high grey boots. It was a basic going out on
the town outfit, though Margaery of course made it look spectacular. That much
about her had stayed the same.
“Well, the two of them are still changing and so I thought um… well, it was
nice to meet you Daenerys.” Dany answered with a cold stare. “Alright then, I…
tell Gendry I had an enjoyable time if he asks, and tell Arya um… well, never
mind.”
For a moment it seemed like she wanted to say something else but her eyes
flickered to Sansa and then away. Margaery brushed her hair over her head with
one hand, the thick body of tresses masking her face from both of them as she
glanced down at the floor. Her lips were pursed in discomfort but Margaery
wasn’t an embarrassed and blushing mess like she was half an hour ago. Margaery
had never cared if someone saw her naked, Sansa remembered. So whatever shame
she was feeling was entirely of her own making.
Deciding something, Margaery nodded at them both and strolled away, the heels
of her boots awkwardly clunking on the hardwood as she went. Margaery had
turned her back on Sansa the last time they saw each other, and now a year
later Margaery was doing it again. It suddenly felt so unfair and wrong.
“Wait,” Sansa said, surprising everyone as she stood up.
Margaery gave an apprehensive sigh but turned on her heel without missing a
beat. She’d been expecting this it seemed. Daenerys took Sansa by the wrist but
Sansa gently brushed her fingers aside. She wanted this. A year ago, seeing
Margaery would have made Sansa weep but now she just felt numb.
Even now Sansa marveled at Margaery’s beauty, she just couldn’t help it. Big,
brown, doe eyes, a crooked little smile that made it look like she was always
biting her lip. The small beauty mark on her chin, right below the attractive
dimples of her cheeks. She looked innocent when she smiled, devilish when she
laughed, and breathtaking when she stared at you. She had enraptured Sansa. She
enraptured everyone she met. She was like sexy quick sand.
Past the beauty though, past Sansa’s gilded memories and foggy recollections,
she saw other things too. Like Joff, Margaery had newly-developed bags under
her eyes. Her once flawless, portrait-like skin was a little greasy, and not
from sweat, but from stress and neglect. Those wide, enticing eyes, were
pinched with crows-feet and beheld a shifting, moving skittishness that had
never been there before.
She looked weary.
“Look, say what you need to say, okay? I can take it.”
“Has he hurt you?” Sansa blurted out. “Are you alright?”
“Am I- am I alright?” Margaery looked like Sansa had asked her to grab a tit
and start milking. “What does- what do you care? I- I betrayed you, I-I fucked
you over so completely you had to transfer schools, and you’re asking me if I’m
alright?”
“Well, I transferred for a lot of reasons-”
“I hated you, you know that? You were so pretty and smart and so much better at
making people… I don’t know, feel better. Some of the girls were already
talking about you becoming chapter president, and I had just started!” Margaery
shook her head and licked her lips, her eyes starting to glisten. “It wasn’t
fair. I fucking hated you so much, I mean, not all the time but… I was supposed
to be with Joffrey. I’d hooked up with him a few times and he, he kept
promising that he would break up wit-”
Margaery’s pursed her lips and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth,
shuddering as the first tear dropped. The second quickly followed. Even after
all this time, after months of fantasizing that Margaery would get what was
coming to her, to have her suffer as Sansa had suffered, Sansa could only
notice how beautiful she looked even when crying. Sansa wanted to comfort her,
hug her. She wanted her old friend to feel better.
Dany stayed strong.
“You were going to take him, is that it? Joffrey was supposed to dump Sansa for
you and make it clear to everyone else who the winner was,” Dany showed her
fangs, standing up from the table to block Sansa from Margaery’s sight. “Well
you didn’t win, all you did was lose Sansa and I pity you for that.”
Sansa was touched that Dany was defending her so passionately. It made Sansa
feel warm even as the cold truth of what Margaery was saying flooded her mind.
The whole time Sansa had thought of Margaery as an older sister figure, the
girl who could show her the ropes of college life and maybe giggle with her
about secrets late at night.
That wasn’t how Margaery ever saw it?
“You’re right… you’re absolutely right.” Margaery wiped at the tears with her
thumb. “I won and my prize was Joffrey, so I guess the joke ended up being on
me.”
Sansa wanted to ask but Margaery answered before she could.
“No, he doesn’t hit me, or anything like that. He doesn’t need to. Why would
he? He has total control over my life now and there’s nothing I can do to stop
it. I have to do whatever he says. I have to let him treat me like garbage
until… until maybe one day, maybe he’ll get bored enough to cut me loose. I’m
trapped while you’re free… and you ask if I’m alright?”
“I just… we were friends once.” Sansa didn’t know what else to say. “Won’t he
be mad about Gendry?”
“Oh, I look back with fondness on the days when Joffrey cared enough to
actually get mad when I cheated on him,” Margaery said. “Now both of us are
just numb to it. We both cheat, we both know it, and we both aren’t going to be
stopping anytime soon.”
“Then just break up with him, what’s wrong with you?” Dany snapped.
“I can’t! He…” Margaery looked at Dany and seemed to come to some sort of
decision, bolting out of the dining room toward the front door.
But as Margaery tried to once again leave Sansa’s life without so much as
looking at her, fate saw fit to intervene this time.
“I’ve got eats!” Jon shouted as he came in, stopping Margaery in her tracks.
“Oh hello, didn’t mean to startle you. Are you staying for dinner? Hey, are you
crying?”
Sansa felt some pity for her former friend when the maelstrom of activity
started up again with her in the center. Jon was carrying three different bags
of fast food, one with burgers, one with tacos, and one with fried chicken, and
Arya and Gendry popped out of there room shouting about how hungry they were
before taking all three bags from him. The couple didn’t even really notice
Margaery. They just frantically dumped out and then rifled through the piles of
pre-packaged food.
“No wonder guys are hungry all the time, thrusting is hard work on the abs,”
Arya grunted as she shoved half a taco in her mouth, handing Gendry a mustard
packet as he unwrapped a burger.
“Oh hey Alayne, you decided to stay?” Gendry said around a mouthful of red meat
and lettuce while he poured a string of yellow mustard over an unwrapped hot
dog.
Margaery tried to fake it and wave at Gendry but the moment she opened her
mouth nothing came out. She swallowed and tried again but her smile blew away
like wilted rose petals, her hand pressed to her mouth as she started weeping,
shoulders shaking with sorrow. Even Daenerys took a step back when Margaery’s
shoulders started jerking and weaving. Finally she steadied herself against the
wall with one hand.
Arya and Gendry paused their feasting, stunned at Margaery’s breakdown. Dany
scoffed but Sansa thought there was guilt in her face too. Jon’s expression was
blank. She couldn’t tell what it was but Sansa knew that Jon was focusing on
something, something about Margaery. He could read people’s body language
better than Sansa could but she still had some idea of what he saw.
Pain.
Sansa was familiar with pain.
She walked over to Margaery and hugged her, the delicate material of her blouse
wrinkling against Sansa’s cotton Oldtown sweater. Margaery accepted the hug,
pressing her face into the crook of Sansa’s neck and Sansa could feel
Margaery’s tears as they trailed down her collarbone and between her cleavage.
She rubbed her hands over Margaery’s back, whispering that it would all be
alright.
It was a bit of a blur, no one moment stuck out and so it seemed like time
stood still, but after a while Sansa was on the couch with Margaery pinched
close at her side, Gendry and Arya sitting on the other end of the couch.
Dany’s righteous fury had cooled down a bit and she sat with Jon on a sofa near
them, the fast food laid out on the living room table for everyone to take
freely. At first that meant mostly Arya and Gendry scarfing food down but
eventually Jon took a taco and Dany had some chicken. Even Margaery drank some
water and ate some fries.
Then when she was calmed down enough, she started talking about Joffrey.
“He’s always had a sick little obsession with watching girls, peeping on them,
wanting to make videos of them. I never let him do it with me though. I mean I
liked him but I wasn’t stupid. I thought that was it, just a kink of his, but I
guess Joff couldn’t contain himself forever because then he started filming
girls without their consent. He even put up cameras in some of the rooms at the
chapter house.”
“I saw the footage,” Sansa said, remembering her horror when she saw an HD
recording of herself sleeping in her sorority dorm room. “I tried to warn
everyone. I even tried to find some of the girls in the videos… but by then…”
“By then I’d smeared you so much, no one would believe anything you said.”
Margaery started sobbing a little but this time Arya reached over and rubbed
her back as well and she found the strength to continue.
“I didn’t know about any of this, not until it was too late. I don’t think he
planned for this when he started, but Joff eventually realized that filming
girls could be more than just a sick thrill. He had footage of some of the
sisters doing drugs in their rooms, cheating on their boyfriends, that sort of
thing. There was even one girl who confessed to a hit and run on tape, just
with a parked car, but it would have cost her parents a fortune. I… he filmed
that in my room. She had come to my room to-to confide in me.
“By the time I found out what he was doing, he’d already started blackmailing
them.”
Jon stood up and walked to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of whiskey
with a picture of a white dragon on the front. He placed two glasses on the
table and filled them both halfway, picking one up for himself and nodding at
Margaery to take the other. She slurped up about half but that made her cough
so bad she needed some more water after. Then she took another sip and it went
down smoother. Some steadiness was back in her spine.
“He made my girls, my sisters, young women I love, into his own personal
whores. I couldn’t even protect them because, well… I-I mean he wasn’t raping
them-”
“Blackmail is rape by coercion,” Jon interrupted.
“I know, I know, but when I tried to make him stop he… he showed me the footage
he had of me,” Margaery hiccupped. “My family are good people, but they can’t…
they aren’t very tolerant of certain behavior and I- I was…”
“You don’t have to tell us,” Sansa said.
Margaery smiled and nodded before continuing. “I have to do what he says. I
told him at the time, he should just break up with me. What was the point? He
didn’t even want me anymore, not really, but he… he said that he owns me now.
I’m t-trapped.”
Sansa felt like crying. Arya looked livid. Jon’s expression was still blank.
“And he’s getting worse. He finally has everything he could ever want, no one
can say no to him, and he can’t appreciate any of it. He’s already rich and
about to inherit even more from his father’s estate, but I guess it’s not
enough for him because recently he’s been getting into a really bad scene. Not
just selling drugs but the girls, he… he makes the girls sell themselves to…”
“Oh gods.”
For the first time Dany’s suspicion and defiant dislike of Margaery shriveled
away into pale horror. Sansa kept thinking about how she used to joke with
Joffrey that if he was a good boy, she would give him a treat which usually
included some form of oral sex. Once in a while, after they did have sex, Joff
would joke that he could make a lot of money bottling and selling such an
experience.
It all felt playful at the time but now Sansa wondered.
“More dangerous is that he’s just a fucking idiot,” Margaery continued. “He’s
already gotten into some scary confrontations with actual criminals, but he
keeps pretending that he has it all under control. Half the time they tolerate
him because he gives them girls and the other half because they know he has
money, but they’re constantly mocking him and taking advantage of him, and most
of the time they do it in ways where Joff doesn’t even understand what’s
happening.
“But when he does understand, he doesn’t make them stop. Instead he takes it
out on me or his sister. It’s like he needs their approval and is willing to
debase himself in any way to-”
“He does it to his own sister?” Sansa interrupted, struck with a horrific
vision of Myrcella being abused and sold by her brother to men with even less
restraint.
“No, not like that. I think Myrcella is the one girl that Joff actually sees as
more than a convenient pussy for him to monetize. In his eyes she’s some
fucking pure little angel who can do no wrong, and so every time Myrcella wants
to explore anything that isn’t 100% chaste in his mind, which is basically
anything, he thinks it must be the influence of one of his new criminal friends
trying to take advantage of her. Someone trying to turn her out to hurt him.”
“Is that actually a risk?’ Jon asked, speaking for the first time in a while
and making Margaery pause in thought. “Do these friends of his actually
threaten to do something to his sister?”
“I don’t really know,” Margaery admitted. “Maybe that’s just an excuse he uses
to be cruel to her. He was never kind, but recently he just constantly yells at
her and calls her terrible things. Some days he doesn’t even let her out of the
house, and meanwhile their mother is so focused on Tommen that she doesn’t even
see it. She even takes Joff’s side and helps him slut shame her. Her own
daughter! Thank the gods she’s going to college far away from both of them. He
actually had the gall to ask me if Myrcella could join my sorority at KLU, like
he’d forgotten that he already turned some of my girls into his… into his…”
Margaery started to cry again as Arya looked away, chewing on her lip. Sansa
remembered how tough her sister had been on Myrcella, but knowing now how
debased Joff had become, it made sense that Arya would rethink her judgement.
If the one man in Myrcella’s life was telling her such things, treating her in
such a way, it was a wonder the girl wasn’t a bigger basket case.
“Ala- Margaery, I’m so sorry,” Gendry said. He stood up and knelt in front of
her, taking her smaller hands into his own and frowning. Margaery was blushing
and crying and gratefully ran her hand through Gendry’s hair. “If I had known-”
“No, no, please don’t worry,” Margaery sniffled. “It had been a while since I
was with anyone, so it was nice to be with you. And Arya, of course,” Margaery
quickly added but Arya was too lost in a storm of anger to notice. “You
reminded me of my high school boyfriend a little. He was handsome and strong
like you, and it made me feel nice to… to remember that time. Seeing you and
Arya together reminded me of what it was like when I was with him.”
“But with less butt stuff,” Arya said, her voice sounding so flat that Sansa
didn’t even realize it was a joke until Margaery laughed.
“Well, Renly ended up being gay, so you’d be surprised.” Sansa and everyone
laughed at that, the tension breaking a bit from the room.
Until Dany spoke.
“We have to stop him.”
Margaery’s smile vanished and her face turned a sickly, cottage cheese color as
she started immediately shaking her head and babbling. Jon frowned at Dany but
she consciously ignored him, standing up so that everyone was watching her now.
Except for Gendry. His eyes were still sad and focused on Margaery as he held
her hands, her only anchor in this storm of madness.
“We can’t, I told you, it’s not just me. He has compromising videos-”
“It’s only going to get worse,” Dany said. “What do you think is going to
happen? That one day, one of these criminals will scare him off? Or maybe he’ll
get bored of being a drug dealing pimp? Men who can’t accept no, who are never
told no, don’t wake up one day and suddenly get better. They only get worse. He
will get worse.”
Even though Margaery was growing more and more terrified at every word, and
Jon’s frown began to grow into genuine distaste, Sansa had to quietly agree
with what Dany was saying. Joffrey, at his core, was just a bully. Bullies
didn’t go away if you were careful enough or good enough. You could never be
good enough. All you could do was confront them.
Still…
“Even if you’re right, what do we do, kill him?” The room turned toward Sansa
in shock. “Think about it Dany. You’re right of course, Joff is only going to
get worse. But how much do you think he’ll deteriorate if anyone, let alone a
woman, hurts him? Humiliates him? He’ll inevitably retaliate. Joff doesn’t
believe in mercy or even basic self-preservation when it comes to his ego. When
he wants to hurt someone, that’s his focus, and if he can’t hurt the right
person, he’ll just hurt the most available person.”
“Which could be Margaery. Or worse, someone innocent like Myrcella,” Jon chimed
in.
“WE CANNOT LET THIS STAND!” Dany shouted, making the room jump.
Jon however was unfazed. “Hurting him is not the same thing as helping those
girls Daenerys.”
Like a burst of flame, Dany went from blindingly hot to instantly cool, sitting
back down with a huff and laying her face in her palms. It took Sansa a moment
to realize that Dany was trying to keep herself from crying. Somehow, rather
than making her feel hopeless or depressed, this ignited something in Sansa’s
own belly. There was a time when she felt powerless to stop Joffrey too. He
seemed so controlling, so all-consuming in his presence. Sansa couldn’t help
but wilt to his will.
But that was when she was in high school, when she thought Joff hung the stars
in the sky. The man she saw today was unbalanced, unhinged… predictable.
Someone who went to violence that quickly was a man with very few good
instincts. Sansa was remembering all of Joff’s little ticks and foibles, and
she realized that even then, she’d always been subconsciously studying him.
Learning to predict his moods. She had needed to learn how to avoid his wrath,
how to keep him from flying over the edge… how to keep him from getting
distracted.
The pieces began to form.
“Dany, what would you do to punish Joff? What kind of things have you done
before?”
She sniffed. “Well… it depended, but it usually involved some form of
humiliation or… why are you asking? I thought hurting him was off the table?”
“Well, maybe… but what would you think of a plan like this?”
Sansa broke down the idea she had, forming the logistics even as she spoke. Her
understanding of Joff’s psyche was almost second-nature to her now and every
time she got to a part of the scheme where she was stuck for ideas, Dany and
Arya would make suggestions both helpful and outlandish, until Sansa decided on
something and continued. By the time she finished explaining, Dany looked
intrigued, Arya looked confused but curious, and Jon wasn’t frowning anymore.
Margaery reacted first. “That… that could work. It would hurt Joff but also put
him in a checkmate. He wouldn’t be able to blackmail anyone without implicating
himself.”
“Whoa, wait,” Gendry said, placing a hand on Margaery’s shoulder in support.
“This weird plan involves you… erm…”
“Well, as I already proved, I don’t mind a little fun.” Margaery gave Gendry a
saucy wink and even glanced in Jon’s direction before thinking better of it.
“Besides, if it means making Joffrey suffer and getting rid of him too, I’d
fuck Pate the fucking Pig Boy if needed.”
“It’s a little less aggressive than what I had in mind…” Dany pondered. “But
perhaps sometimes there is a time for subtlety. I’m in.”
“Me too!” Arya piped up.
Gendry nodded once he seemed assured that Margaery was holding strong, so only
Jon was left.
“Jon?”
“If we do this… we do it right,” he finally said. “To be clear, we are not
coming up with the best way to humiliate Joffrey. The objective is to use his
humiliation as a distraction to get what we really want. If we all remember
that and we all promise not to take any unnecessary risks… then I’m down.”
“Wow, even the goody-two-shoes is in,” Arya laughed.
Sansa remembered Dany’s words. “Jon thinks of himself as a reformed bad boy,”
she’d said.
Well maybe it was time to wake the bad boy back up.
“Jon is right. We need to be smart, not resentful. Now let’s go over the plan
one more time.”
*****
JOFFREY
The driveway was bumpy and filled with gravel, a sign of cheap cost-saving that
made him realize that this was probably the poor side of town. Not poor, poor,
like disgusting street shit poor, but the kind of poor that Joffrey despised
even more in a way for being so phony as to pretend they were rich. It was just
desperate and pathetic. Most people were.
He couldn’t see why Margaery had texted him to pick her up here, especially
since she was driving his truck the last they saw of each other. Maybe if she
wrecked it, he would release that video of her lezzing out with that freakish
dyke Professor Tarth. Maybe even if the car was fine, he would just release it
for shits and giggles.
Making Margaery cry was about the only pleasure she gave him anymore. He had
made a lot of girls cry in his life, usually when he fucked ‘em good and hard
until they were crying for their mommies to help them make the pain stop, but
making Margaery cry… mmm, there was something sweeter about her tears.
Almost slipping on some ice along the way (would show these ingrates right if
he sued them) Joffrey reached the front door and pressed a button but didn’t
hear a doorbell. He started banging on the varnished wood to be safe.
Margaery’s text had mentioned that she’d made some new friends and went back to
their cabin for drinks and Joff noted the lack of gender she assigned to these
new friends.
Though with a lesbo like Margaery, it didn’t really matter. She’d probably fuck
anything. The slut. If she got too flirty, maybe he would release the video.
Remind her what’s what.
The door opened and a girl with white hair and purple eyes stood there in a
fucking hot-ass lingerie thing. It was a white dress sort-of, but see through
with strings going over the chest and stomach. It only went to midthigh and all
the see-through parts showed only skin and a skimpy white thong underneath. The
girl was barefoot with white toenails and in his nice brown leather dress
shoes, Joffrey was satisfied by how he towered over the girl.
“Yes?” she asked softly.
“I’m… I’m looking for Margaery,” Joffrey said after a pause. “She’s my g- my
friend. She told me to pick her up here.”
“Oh Margaery? I love her.” The sexy little skank smiled. “Yeah, she was here
with Jon a few hours ago but they left. They said they’d be back soon. Do you
want to come inside and wait?”
For a moment Joff wasn’t sure he heard her right. In his experience beautiful
women didn’t just invite him into their house, not unless he’d made clear who
was the boss first. The girl ran a finger down her outfit, splitting open the
see-through material and exposing the bare stomach underneath. She kept staring
at him like a bitch in heat.
“Sure, why not?” Joff said, charming her with another smile.
He walked inside and saw that it was just as cheap as he imagined. One of those
rental cabins that people would stay in for a week, trash, then leave having
felt like they went camping but not really. Joff knew that these people would
be jealous if they found out his family owned a cabin up here that he could
visit anytime he wanted.
So he told the girl that. Predictably she acted impressed, brushing aside
strands of her hair from her face and rubbing her hand on his chest whenever
Joff said something funny. He was funny.
He had the bitch practically begging to suck his cock when another interesting
target came into the room. The white-haired girl (shit, she’d told him her name
but he couldn’t remember it now) was petite but in that sort of bigger-boobed
way, where if she wasn’t careful, one day she would get fat and become one of
those squat, basketball-shaped bitches that Joff liked to laugh at on the
treadmills.
This girl on the other hand, straight-up looked like a little girl and Joff was
fucking into it. Even though she was wearing women’s lingerie, a black version
of the “babydoll” or whatever the white-bitch had called it, (that’s what he
would call her for now, “white-bitch”) he could tell this this was one of those
petite girls who would be skinny no matter what she did because she still
really had a kid’s body. Her chest was practically flat and even though her ass
had a little meat to it, her hipbones were visible and her ribs jutted out. She
looked fragile.
Fragile things always break differently, he mused in thought.
For a split-second, as he stared at this new girl coming into the room, Joff
thought he saw a flicker of… something in the girl’s eye. He wasn’t sure. It
was like the look she gave him sent shivers of danger up his spine, but she was
just some skinny whore with a dyke haircut. He would fuck her if she made it
easy, but otherwise he probably wouldn’t bother. It was nothing.
“Who’s our new friend?” the dark-bitch, new nickname, asked.
“Joffrey. He says he’s waiting for Margaery to come back,” the white-bitch
said. “So he’s bored like us, with nothing to do and no one to play with.”
The dark-bitch joined them both on the couch, sitting on Joff’s other side.
Wanting to fuck with her, Joff crooked his finger at the dark bitch, indicating
that she move closer. The dark-bitch seemed like she was going to protest but
then gave him a smile before scooting over. Now he had an arm around both of
them and it made him feel like a fucking king.
“Maybe Joffrey here brought us a toy to play with,” The dark-bitch said before
brushing her hand up his leg. Joff started to become uncomfortable with how
fast things were going but before he could protest, the white-bitch said
something that made him want to let things play out.
“Something like that isn’t a toy Mercy. It’s something to be protected, and
worshipped, and respected,” she said. Joff felt himself getting hard at her
words. He was about to tell the white bitch to take a look if she liked it so
much, but then he thought of something clever and that almost never happened,
so he had to say it.
“Your name is really Mercy?” Joff asked. The girl looked surprised but nodded.
“I bet I can make you say your name.”
“What?” the dumb bitch asked, ruining his joke. Dumb fucking cunt.
“Never mind,” he grumbled. The doorbell rang.
“Maybe that’s them,” the white-bitch said with a little jiggle in her tits,
prancing over to the front door while Mercy kept looking at him like she was
confused. She kept asking him to explain the joke but Joff learned a long time
ago that explaining the joke never worked. He was smart like that. She needed
to shut the fuck up and quick.
“Oh it’s the woodcutter!”
In walked one of the biggest, strongest-looking guys that Joff had ever seen.
For a second he worried that these dumb bitches didn’t understand that they
were about to be raped, but then the guy blushed as the white bitch dragged him
into the room and Joff understood that he was probably some white knight “nice
guy.” Guys like that were just pussies deep down. Joff had tougher friends than
this guy. Now that he looked at him, the guy didn’t even look that strong, just
kind of tall, sort of.
“Thank the gods you’re here. We wanted to get a fire going but all the wood is
too big to fit in the hearth.” The white-bitch said. “A problem I’m sure you’re
very familiar with.”
The woodcutter laughed and blushed but Joffrey didn’t get why so he started to
become angry.
His anger lessened though when the white-bitch bent over to look into the empty
fireplace, giving the room a good show of her ass in that thong. The woodcutter
did some bitch move where he pretended like he wasn’t looking, even though he
totally was. Joff openly took everything he could with his eyes, like a real
Alpha.
“Well that’s what the lodge, er the resort that owns this cabin that we- that
you I mean, are currently staying at, er hired me for. Um, to cut the firewood,
um, ma’am,” the idiot (he probably had a baby dick) woodcutter announced, like
they needed him to explain his fucking dumbass job. He should have just left
when he saw the women weren’t dressed.
The guy walked over to the pile of wood that was by the fireplace. Joff wanted
the white-bitch to come back by his side again but he knew if he asked she
would lose respect for him. Then he would HAVE to hurt her to rebalance their
relationship, he wouldn’t have a choice then.
Not knowing how much danger she was putting herself in, the white-bitch hovered
by the woodcutting guy as he worked and kept asking him questions or something.
When the guy started to bring the wood outside, the white-bitch told him that
he could do the cutting inside, and she handed him an axe that was leaning
against the back door.
When the guy picked up the axe, Joffrey suddenly felt very inexplicably
uncomfortable and wanted to leave. It got worse when the guy asked if he could
take his shirt off, claiming that cutting wood was hard work or whatever. The
girls quickly agreed before Joffrey could protest, and at that point the guy
had already taken his shirt off so Joff felt it wasn’t necessary to say
anything. He didn’t really care. Just chop the wood and go, he thought.
The woodcutter must have been terrible at his job because it took him forever.
Every time Joff thought the guy was done and he might start to leave, the girls
would ask for him to do more. By the time he finally stopped, claiming that he
was growing tired and sweaty (like they couldn’t all see that the weakass
bitch!) both girls had become sloppy bitches, staring and drooling and debasing
themselves like common whores for the fucking asshole. The dark-bitch even went
so far as to say that the woodcutter needed a shower now, and offered her own.
“Maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea,” the woodcutter said, being smart for once
in his life.
“He’s right,” the white-bitch said, walking back to Joff and kneeling by him on
the couch, almost pressing her soft tits into his cheek as she spoke to the
dark-bitch. “We can’t let these fine men use our showers, not until we’ve used
them first and gotten the water nice and warm for their big, beefy muscles,
don’t you think Mercy?”
“Mercy, mercy me, I think you’re right,” she said, staring into the
woodcutter’s eyes as she walked up to him and rubbed a hand over his pathetic
attempt at a six-pack. “These men work hard… and we should work even harder. I
can respect that.”
“Then let’s retire to the bedroom and we can all brainstorm ideas on how to
best reward these sexy hunks who have come into our lives.”
Joff and the woodcutter were speechless. The white-bitch joined Mercy and they
linked hands before turning on both of them, their thong-covered asses looking
mighty fuckable as they pranced away to their bedroom. There was a little bit
of drool coming down his lip that Joff had to quickly wipe away on his sleeve.
It was finally time. After what seemed like forever, he was going to fuck these
slutty bitches.
Until suddenly Joff was grabbed by the arm. The woodcutter had a monstrous hand
on him and when Joff tried to pull away, he yanked Joff closer. There was a
flash of being head-butted, of having to go to the emergency room, the doctor
setting the bone back in place as tears streamed down his face.
He shook that off and looked down. The woodcutter was still holding the axe in
one hand, his palm over the bottom of the handle as he leaned on the axe-head.
The metal scraped lightly on the hardwood floor, the sound sending shivers up
Joff’s spine.
A little bit of pee slipped out.
“Hey man, let’s get one thing straight,” the woodcutter growled, the shy pussy
from before suddenly replaced by a fucking animal, like a fucking dumb giant
wanting to crush Joff in his hand. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity,
okay? Once in a lifetime, you hear me?”
“Ye-yeah, I get it,” Joff said, nodding and smiling to show that he could take
a hint.
“Alright, then don’t fuck this up for us, okay?” the woodcutter said, smiling
at first but the smile slowly disappeared as his grip tightened to the point of
pain.
Joff wished more than anything that this guy could know who he was dealing
with. He had a whole stable of bitches at his beck and call. He had friends who
had shot people before and gone to jail for it. Once even Joff had shot
someone, though it was only a homeless guy and later he had a bodyguard bring
the hobo to an emergency room, to avoid the police. That was actually how Joff
got involved with the Greenfield Gang. They told him he couldn’t sell drugs for
them until he shot someone for real, and Joff was glad to do it. Although they
hadn’t really told him to do it in words… they’d sort of “told him” with finger
quotes, as Preston once explained.
Just like in this moment, Joff was glad to do what needed to be done.
“You know what?” he laughed. “Why don’t you just take them both man, have at
it. My treat.”
It worked. The woodcutter smiled and smacked Joffrey across the head so hard
that one of his fillings ached afterwards, but then he followed it up with a
couple of rough pats on the shoulder so Joff knew it was just him fucking
around. The woodcutter called him a really good guy, and actually offered Joff
the chance to maybe double-team the girls together. Offered twice actually. But
Joff knew better.
“No, no, I insist, really. They’re yours.”
With one more harsh slap to the face, Joff’s cheek burning now and his hair
horribly tangled, the woodcutter got up and walked down the hallway. Startling
Joff, he literally kicked the door open to the screams and laughter of the
bitches inside before smacking the door closed behind him.
Joff waited two minutes, staring at his phone as the time ticked away before he
snuck over to the doorway. He pressed his ear to the wood and held his phone
up, ready to record.
Until he heard what they were saying.
“Bet you wish that little bitch was in here now,” the woodcutter said. There
was a slow but harsh banging noise coming from the room, like wood scraping
against wood and then running into a solid surface. “Bet his tiny little pecker
would feel like a fucking vacation compared to this.”
“You’re so mean mister, he was just a curious little boy, that’s all. He’s
probably never seen a real woman before.” It was the white-bitch’s voice.
“He’s probably (ah) needle-dicked (ah) little cuck, (ah). Maybe hi- (ah) his
balls haven’t (ah) dropped (ah), yet.” Mercy’s voice.
Joff’s fury rose, so much so that he started quietly gasping and spitting, his
face turning red as he restrained a scream, banging his fist against his own
leg. Those fucking bitches, that fucking asshole bitch, motherfucking shit bags
dammit.
“Well, considering he didn’t stop me from taking you both, you’re probably
right,” the woodcutter laughed.
“He didn’t even try to fight you? Not even for one of us? Oh that poor baby, I
should comfort him, he clearly needs a confidence boost, maybe even a mommy
figure in his life.”
There were sounds of a commotion and Joff almost stood up to run back to the
couch, but then he heard a startling creak and the white-bitch gasped. She made
a few more noises and the woodcutter seemed to be saying something but it was
too hard to hear. And then-
“AHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWOOOOOOOWWWWAGAAGAGAGAGAGAAAAAA HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOUR DICK IS
HUGE!!! FUCK ME HARDER! HARDER!!!”
On instinct Joff cracked open the door. The woodcutter was sitting on the edge
of a bed, the white-bitch bouncing furiously on his cock, except the girl
wasn’t doing any of the bouncing. The woodcutter was holding her below the
armpits and spiking her down like a volleyball on his lap. Not only was the
white-bitch moving so fast that her face was a blur, but Joff could see now the
fucking baseball bat that he was shoving up into her twat. He glanced down and
saw, below the action, the woodcutter’s ass was hanging off the edge of the
sheets as Mercy sat below, alternating between licking the woodcutter’s balls
and the white-bitch’s taint.
It made Joff feel ashamed and guilty and horny and all of that together just
made him angrier. Why did jerks have to have all the luck? He was a nice guy.
The white-bitch seemed to like him, why would she do this? Maybe women really
were just big fucking sluts who needed to be fucked hard or they made dumbass
fucking decisions.
Joffrey was feeling it, a red haze. Usually when he felt like this, he called
up one of his stable bitches to lay down on his bed, pre-lubed up of course,
while he worked out his anger. Except those bitches were back on the East
Coast, so how would he work out this impotent fury-
“Joffy?”
Like a blast from the past, Joff turned and saw Sansa Stark of all people.
Perfect, he thought.
*****
SANSA
Perfect, she thought.
As Joffrey tried to get himself hard, pulling on his dick with one hand while
he held Sansa’s left ass cheek with the other, Sansa reflected on how easy he
had made all of this for them. They’d come up with plans, contingency plans,
emergency call signs and code words to indicate trouble covertly to one
another… and hadn’t needed to use any of them. Joff hadn’t broken away from the
plan once.
He was just so easy!
Glancing at the smartwatch on her wrist that was connected to Dany’s phone, a
key communication device that had proven to be an overly-cautious safeguard,
she saw that the time was right. Everything should be set up by now so Sansa
felt safe to move this to the next phase.
“Please Joffy, I need you so bad baby, so bad, please fuck me. I’m begging you,
please, please, please fuck me, I need it daddy…”
Pausing at the last word, Joff looked up at her face for the first time since
he’d “convinced” her to come back to his place. He looked lost, like he didn’t
even know how to react. It was certainly different dirty talk than she’d given
him in high school, though not too far from the sort of things she’d said to
Harry. She wondered if he understood that not being constantly slut-shamed by
an abusive partner, had allowed Sansa to find a good balance with her sexual
kinks and discover that she actually liked the dirtier, naughtier parts of sex.
Boy, she thought again, Joff really screwed her up in high school.
It was time to pay him back in turn.
“Oh gods! Joff stop! Is that Margaery’s car?”
At first he seemed to recoil at the word ‘stop,’ but fortunately Joff wasn’t so
far gone as to not pick up on what she said. Abandoning her ass for the moment,
Joff walked over to the large window next to the computer set-up that faced the
driveway. Though they’d been secretly parked a block away for over an hour, Jon
made sure to flash the lights, making it easier for Joff to see.
“Oh shit!” he shouted.
“Joff, I should have told you before, but Jon has a bit of a temper,” she said,
playing ignorant as Joff turned ghostly white, obviously remembering the way
Jon had dominated him at the lodge. “He also… well, he has a license to carry a
gun.”
“You’ve gotta leave, right-”
The front door banged open. “Sansa! Sansa are you in here!?”
Joff faced the bedroom door and moved to lock it, but she stopped him.
“No, if you do that, Jon will know something is up with this room and he’ll
just find a way inside,” Sansa said, keeping her voice calm even as she feigned
dread. “We need to hide and hope he doesn’t find us, it’s the only way. You
hide in the closet and I’ll hide in the bathroom. That way even if he finds us,
he won’t immediately suspect that we’re fucking.”
“We- we didn’t fuck though,” Joff whined, completely missing the point.
“Go in the fucking closet Joffy. Jon will be here any second and I don’t want
him to hurt you.”
Letting his fear lead him, Joffrey took off for the closet, sliding the
mirrored door open and slipping inside. Sansa shut the closet door for him,
aware that it was a one-way mirror that allowed Joff a complete view of the
bedroom. A nice little spy-hole, Margaery had called it. Aware of her audience,
Sansa let herself freak out and faked a sob for a second before running off to
the bathroom.
Once inside, she cracked the door open to make sure she had a good view of the
show.
Chapter End Notes
     Part 3 will come soon, and the smut will only get more intense.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!