Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10601784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Petyr_Baelish/Sansa_Stark, Petyr_Baelish/Alayne_Stone
  Character:
      Petyr_Baelish, Sansa_Stark, Alayne_Stone
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Older_Man/Younger_Woman,
      Creepyshipping, Sorry_Not_Sorry, Fanfic_is_such_a_thing_Sansa_would_do,
      Sleezy_Pete, He_is_no_good_but_i_love_him, there_IS_a_plot, but_there_is
      certainly_porn, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-11 Words: 4913
****** The Balcony ******
by TimeTurner
Summary
     Petyr checks his mail inbox and finds something out of ordinary. An
     email from the beautiful 17 years old Sansa Stark, whose impressive
     blue eyes and fiery red hair have been printed in his memory after
     they met at the Christmas party of the company in which he works with
     her father, Ned Stark.
     Curious, he opens the message. Its contents are not at all what he
     was expecting, but this one is a surprise the man is happy to
     receive...
Notes
     Okay. Omg, I am nervous.
     Some notes:
     This is not the very first fic I wrote, but it's the first one I
     finished in english, so please, go easy on me :P
     Which leads me to the fact that english is not my mother language, so
     forgive me in advance for any rude mistake I might have made. Feel
     free to tell me what you think or anything.
     I hope you enjoy!
Sansa’s hands were shaking from the effort of keeping herself together. Part of
her wanted to laugh at the mischief of sharing the story with someone. The
other part, which the young woman admittedly thought sound way more like her
usual self, wanted to scream, curve in a ball and create any excuses for not
sending the damn email. She had written that only for her own amusement, for
the pure reason of knowing she could. Certainly, Jeyne would never be able to
spot the source of her inspiration, but  she would.  She had tried to forget
all of that nonsense. She had clicked on 'delete’ several times. The truth,
however, was that she was too proud of herself for finishing the text. And,
truth be told, she was proud of the final result. She was not so proud of
herself for letting slip to her friend that she had written something like an
erotic story during the winter break, for, the second the words had left her
mouth, she knew Jeyne would demand to read it.
She let go a resigned sigh, attached the archive at the email and typed P for
“Poole”.
Closing her eyes so she wouldn't lose the courage, she hit  Send .
When Sansa opened her eyes to check if the message had been sent, she felt the
air leaving her lungs abruptly.
“Fuck! What have I done?!”
 
 Petyr arrived home, took his suit jacket off, loosened his tie and poured
himself a shot of whiskey. He glanced at his correspondence and threw it over
the side table without a further look on his way to his home office. The office
was practically the only room in his home that had some personality. The rest
of the apartment was most certainly luxurious, but the lack of colours and
personal traits made it look inhabited. Which was close to the truth. Petyr had
good taste, but the time he was not at the company he would most likely spend
at his office. Unless he was asleep.
He set his glass at a coaster on the dark wooden desk, turned the radio on and
sat at his comfortable chair.
He opened his email page, where he knew his secretary, Ros, would already have
filtered the ones he actually needed to read. In fact, the list was way shorter
than he knew it would have been without the woman's interference.
Paying attention at it's contents for the first time, he realized something was
off. The newest email on his inbox at the end of the day would always be a
message from Ros summing up the messages she had kept and the ones she had
deleted. This time, however, there was two messages delivered after Ros’, which
meant they had arrived after the woman's departure. Checking the timestamps,he
saw that they were sent a minute apart from each other. What made him more
curious, however, was the sender name. He clicked on the older one.
 
___________________________________________________________________________
To: Petyr Baelish
From: Sansa Stark
Subject: Stupidity


Hi. So, here it is. It’s stupid and silly, and if you mock me I won't ever
speak to you  again.
Sansa
___________________________________________________________________________
Under this odd line he noticed a symbol indicating that one archive had been
attached to the message. He wondered what the girl had meant. Then he
remembered calling her a girl would be more than a little imprecise. Sansa
Stark was a woman, even if law didn’t recognize it yet. He remembered giving
her his business card some time ago, but he never thought she had kept it. The
knowledge that she had made him smirk. Maybe the redhead was not completely
willing to forget about the man her parents had clearly recommended her to stay
away. His smirk grew bigger.
Curious, he clicked on the attached archive to see a text opening in front of
him. Petyr had no clue what was that about, but started reading it in no time.
 
The Balcony
 
Alayne was bored. Even though she knew she had to accompany her family to the
ball, she felt like she didn’t belong there. All the nobles looked at her like
she was a child, especially knowing her parents so well, and nothing she could
do would convince them that she was already a grown woman, who knew what she
wanted for her life. After taking a look around the ballroom, she decided she
needed to take some fresh air.
She found a double door leading to a balcony, and happily noticed it was
unlocked. When she opened them, the cold air of december touched her face and
invaded her lungs, making her feel alive. She didn’t have a coat on, but she
didn’t mind the bite of the cold. She approached the balustrade, setting her
hands atop the cold white marble. Most people would complain about the weather,
but Alayne felt the winter most invigorating. She stood there for a time that
could have been infinite, observing the white covered silhouettes of the trees
in the gardens below, lightened only by the full moon. The wind blew at her
hair, making the dark strands loose from her carefully made braid. The breeze
also made her pale pink silky dress sway around her, and she felt like she
could fly away.
 
Petyr read this part and felt a kind of deja-vu. He was almost sure he had
already read or seen a scene like this before. A girl looking almost like an
angel in the winter night. When had it been? Where had he read it? The image
was forming in his mind, but he felt he couldn’t quite place it. His curiosity
about the reason the older Stark girl had reached him to share the text was
growing, so he resumed reading it.
 
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear when a man joined her at the balcony,
standing almost beside her. She only acknowledged his presence when his  rich
voice spoke to her,
“It’s a pretty picture.”
 
Of course! Petyr now was sure he had not  watched  the scene. He had  lived
it. He had met Ned’s elder daughter alone in the  balcony outside the party
room where the company’s Christmas party had taken place. With her dress
flowing around her, she had seemed almost ethereal. He smirked once more. For
some reason, Sansa Stark had sent him a description of their very last
encounter almost exactly how it had happened. He went back to reading with
renewed vigour.
 
Startled, she turned around  to face the source of the sound. She came across a
man she hadn’t met before. He was not very tall, she could see, but something
made him look majestic. His well tailored black suit shone in the moonlight,
contrasting with his perfectly white shirt, against which she could see a dark
green cravat. Nested on his collar was a silver pin of some kind of bird.
Looking at his face, she saw his  hair was perfectly trimmed and dark as the
night itself, except for the temples, where silver intertwined. What impressed
her the most, nevertheless, were his eyes. They had a mesmerizing shade of
green, but when she looked better, she could see silver intertwined on them as
well.
Sheepish, Alayne averted the gaze from him, turning to look back at the
landscape.
“Yes,” she replied “it looks so pure.”
“It most certainly does,” his deep voice commented.
“I love the way the moonlight on the snow makes everything look precious.” She
glanced at his direction and saw when he looked at the garden below, like he
had just noticed it there.
“Yes, very beautiful indeed.” He said looking back at her. His grey-green eyes
shone like he was keeping a secret.


Petyr smiled alone in his apartment. Thas was not how the dialogue had went,
but the beginning was extremely precise. He had left the crowded party room,
moving to the balcony with the intention of smoking a cigarette. When he saw
the stunning redhead, who he knew to be Ned Stark daughter, however, he was
completely distracted of his plan. “It's a pretty picture.” He had said. Only
he wasn't talking about the snowy garden. The memory was enough to sent a jolt
of warmth through his body. At the thought of her flaming red hair framing her
ivory skin, highlighting her cerulean eyes, he noticed she had changed the
color of her hair on the story. He couldn't fathom why, but it was not like she
would have been less attractive that way.
 
“I don't think we were introduced. I am Alayne Stone.” The brunette offered her
hand, expecting the fancy man to shake it lightly.
Instead, he took it in his and bent slightly to brush his lips on her knuckles.
The contact made her cheeks burn.
“I'm most delighted to meet you, miss Stone. You have a beautiful name. It fits
you perfectly.” The warmth on her face spread to her neck at the compliment.
“Thank you, Mister… you never said your name.” Alayne complained. The man
chuckled. His eyes looked darker.
“Oh, your name is so much prettier, let's not ruin this moment with mine.” He
smirked. Alayne was frustrated at his answer, but something led her to comply.
 
He was loving to read this. It felt like knowing for certain her exact thoughts
about their interaction, instead of guessing them from her expression. In
reality, in that cold night last december, he had really kissed her knuckles in
an almost mocking chivalry. But, after the young woman said her name, Petyr
gave her his, searching her face for any sign of recognition, finding none. The
Starks had kept his name out of family conversations. What a shame. He
remembered thinking that he would need to mark it on her brain himself. Maybe
he had been successful. Despite the lack of a name, the man on the piece had
his exact description, even  his mockingbird pin portrayed.
 
“So, what are you doing here alone when there is a party happening inside, miss
Stone?” the man asked her, finally leaning against the parapet so that he was
essentially facing her.
“Call me Alayne.” the young woman said in an automatic answer. She had always
hated when people called her for her surname. It made her feel like the family
she was born into was more important than the fact that she was her own person.
“Okay, then, Alayne.” the lean man consented looking at her with intensity.
Alayne noticed his eyes travelled around her body, making her feel naked. The
realization sent warmth through the very same body he seemed to admire at the
moment.
“I…” she began answering “was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all those people. I
don’t know many people here, and my parents were busy.” she finally confessed,
feeling stupid. Now that she had said she was with her parents, he too would
take her for a child, ruining her chance of a real conversation.
 
Petyr remembered this part of their chat. Sansa had, innocently, believed that
he wouldn’t know who her parents were. Little did she know about the story. He
had known Ned for longer than he would have liked, and Cat for almost his
entire life. He decided not to share this piece of information with their
daughter, however, if nothing, because he knew Eddard would be furious if he
ever found out who was his precious little girl talking to. Which eventually
happened, to Petyr’s deepest satisfaction.
 
“What about you, why are you outside?” she returned his question at him. He
thought for a moment, as if deciding what to say. Finally, he opted answering.
“I was feeling a bit overwhelmed myself.” to which he flashed her a smile that
made his unique shade eyes look greener. “Where would you want to be rather
than here?” he asked her with genuine interest in his voice, very different
from the usual questions she would receive, about her learning and where she
was going after school. She noticed he was a little closer than before. She
swore she could feel the heat emanating from his body to hers. Swallowing with
difficulty, she looked away once more before answering.
“Anywhere I am not seen as my parents child.” her voice was just a little over
a whisper.
 
Sansa had told him she was tired of being the good daughter of Ned and Catelyn
Stark, for it made everyone remember the little girl she was once, instead of
acknowledging the woman she was becoming. He had told her that she did not look
like a child for him, but, before either of them had the chance of saying
anything else, Ned had barged into the balcony searching for Sansa. At that
moment, Petyr understood perfectly what the young woman had said about feeling
like a child. Ned had commanded for her to get back inside with him the moment
he realized she had been alone with his co-worker, as innocent as the
conversation had been. With a small bow, certainly to reply to his kiss in her
knuckles a bit earlier, she said her goodbye. “Thank you for your conversation,
mister Baelish.” her eyes met him at his name. He took her hand in his once
more, kissing her fingers lightly, while slipping his folded business card in
her palm. “Call me Petyr.” He had said before her overprotective father took
her away. Their encounter had finished there, but he could see for it’s length
that her story had not. Enthralled, he kept reading, knowing he would read
until the very end.
 
He approached her even more, and Alayne felt warmth spreading through her body,
even more intense than before. His hand touched her chin gently, turning her
head so her blue eyes looked directly at his. She felt a change in gravity. In
that moment, that pair of grey-green eyes were what held her down to earth. His
voice was huskier than before when he spoke.
“What I see is beautiful woman, Alayne.” Then his mouth descended on hers, his
lips touching her in a feather-like manner. Her body instinctively pushed on
his and she let out a very low moan. Encouraged by her reaction, he let his
arms snake around her body and deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened to him and
his tongue invaded the warmth of her mouth with ability. The kiss was sweet,
but Alayne could feel the hunger underneath it. Her body felt magnetically
pulled to his, the heat becoming almost unbearable. His hands started caressing
her lower back and she knew he felt it too.
 
Petyr had to re adjust on his chair. This was too good to be for real. Had
Sansa written a version of that night where he actually got to kiss her? To
feel her perfectly shaped body trapped between his arms? To hear her moanings
at his ministrations? He felt the immediate pressure at his groin at the
thought. He had wanted to kiss her, to touch her,  maybe press her against that
damned balustrade, since the moment he had seen her standing on that balcony,
her back turned to the doors and to him. The imagination made him groan, the
pressure inside his pants getting worse.
 
Alayne let her own hands reach for his midnight color hair, pulling at the
short strands eagerly. Their kiss grew faster, hunger, more desperate. They
kept exploring each other while their tongues battled for control. When they
broke the kiss, both of them were panting.
They looked at each other, neither of them willing to separate their bodies.
Alayne saw a blazing fire burning in his eyes, whose color now was coal black.
She flushed, realizing her own blue orbs were probably showing the same desire
for this man she barely knew.
Never letting go of her body, he whispered on her ear.
“A breathtaking woman, in fact.” Alayne almost didn't understand his meaning,
but she remembered the last thing he had said before kissing her.
“Thank you.” She replied, feeling more than dizzy. He chuckled once more, and
the woman noticed she rather enjoyed that sound.
“No, thank you, sweetling. You are the highlight of my night.” He murmured,
biting softly at her ear.
Alayne moaned again, and her hands caressed his scalp. The man grunt against
her neck and she felt her desire pooling between her legs.
 
Petyr could still not believe his eyes, but his body was having no trouble at
all imagining the scene. He could almost smell her scent, the wetness between
her creamy thighs. His cock was already painfully hard, so he opened his
breeches and took it in his hands.
 
“Do you want to go back inside, miss Stone?” The way the man said her name, at
the same time his right hand traveled down her back to rest almost at her
bottom, didn't feel bad. It felt wicked, in a most delightful way.
“Not at all.” She whispered against his own ear, partly to provoke him, partly
because she couldn't trust her voice.
“Good.” He growled covering her mouth again and cupping her buttocks. This kiss
already started heated and, in a second, his hands were gathering the light
fabric of her dress and pulling it above her waist. Alayne felt the cold air
touching her cheeks, but that only made her moan against his mouth. His
skillful hands cupped her bare ass and massaged it, always getting closer to
where she wanted them, but never fulfilling her wishes.
 
It was getting harder to concentrate on the reading as his hand kept moving
along his engorged member. He would never have thought possible for him to get
off while reading. Especially not while reading a short story written by the
epitome of purity, Sansa Stark. He got back to reading, slowing the speed of
his movements in order to pay more attention.
 
He pressed her against his body and she felt his manhood hard and hot rubbing
in her thighs. His lips moved away from hers to suck on a pulse point on her
neck. Between each little suck and bite he teased her.
“Do you see what you do to me, Alayne? That's almost unacceptable.” His hands
kept circling her ass, getting dangerously close to the wetness on her
underwear. Her ability to speak had left her completely, and all she could do
was moan at his touch.
Suddenly, he turned her body in his arms so her back was firmly pressed against
his chest. She felt the heat of his body through the fabric of his clothes. His
hands cupped her breasts over her pink dress. He squeezed them and she felt her
nipples hardening.
“At least I see you are not in a much better state, my dear.” He chuckled on
her ear.
“Please…” she murmured softly.
“Please what, Miss Stone?” He teased a bit more, one of his hands running down
her stomach slowly.
“Touch me.” She pleaded pushing her backside on the hard member between his
legs. The man groaned, tangling his fingers on her dark hair and turning her
head impetuously to kiss her roughly.
 
Petyr was getting closer. The feeling was almost too much to deal. At each line
he read, he could put himself in the place of the man on the piece and the
author in the place of the not-so-innocent brunette. The things described were
very close to the things he had imagined doing to the Stark girl at the
occasion of the Christmas dinner. Especially after, when his hands had trailed
down his own body and he found his pleasure imagining using each of his senses
to absorb her. His hands on her ivory skin, feeling the slight texture change
as goosebumps took over her, his nose buried deep at those impossibly red
strands, the smell of her arousal coating his fingers, the taste of her
perfectly shaped lips. The unique flavour he knew she would have when his mouth
covered her core… All that had been a powerful fuel for his movements. Reading
what  she had written  however, was much more. This way, it felt like she was
telling her own version of how she wanted the night to go. It felt like she was
there, encouraging him to keep pressing against her, to keep taking her as his.
He resumed the reading in an almost feverish manner.
 
His left hand snaked past her stomach while the right kept a tight grip on her
head, lips still unite. Alayne moaned in his mouth when his fingers trailed the
hem of her knickers, and whimpered when they overcame the scant barrier and
touched her wetness. Never letting go of his grip, he pulled her against his
hard member and circled her sex with his skilled fingers, making her lose the
sense of reality. The wetness and hotness at her center grew, and he took
advantage of the fact to press a finger inside of her. She yelped, breaking the
kiss. Her breathing was becoming shallow, and she had to hold on the balustrade
in front of her for support. His other hand circled her right breast, massaging
it with synchronized movements. She felt her body tensing and knew she was
close to her blessed relief and, for the way his lips descended on her neck,
biting it roughly enough to leave a mark, she knew he had noticed it too.
However, he slowed his motions, making her groan in frustration.
“Please.”’ she asked again, almost begging, her voice no more than a whisper
now.
“Please what, my dear? Ask and you shall receive.” he answered suckling on her
earlobe.
“Make me come.” she half pleaded, half ordered, turning her head to say it
directly on his ear.
“That’s my girl.” he complimented, adding pressure on her hardened nerve and at
her already sensitive nipple. The change was enough to push her over the edge,
and she would have screamed to the winter air had he not swallowed her sounds.
 
Petyr took a large gulp of his whiskey, that had been forgotten over the desk,
trying to numb him a bit so he could finish reading. He wanted desperately to
come, but for some reason he felt he needed to finish the damned text first.
Easier said than done. He drank the rest of his drink and withdrew his hands
off his shaft, as difficult as it was.
 
After she came down from her peak, Alayne pressed herself on his body for
comfort. Almost surprised, she felt the fabric of his black slacks being
pressed on her bare ass by his still hardened member. She turned a bit on her
feet, reaching for his belt buckle. His hands covered hers, and, instead of
aiding, he stopped her tries. She looked at him, confused.
“We don’t need to do anything else tonight, Alayne.” his eyes looked at hers
and she saw concern.
“I want to.” she assured him. “I want you to take me. Make me yours for
tonight.” he saw she was sure of what she wanted, so he agreed. He kissed her
intensely, holding her hard against his body. His hands returned to the hem of
her panties and this time he put the piece down. She stepped out of them
easily, and her her hands reached for his fly, where she was finally able to
free him, taking him in her hand. He hissed at her touch and turned her again.
Alayne immediately hold herself on the balustrade, waiting for him. He caressed
her cheeks almost with reverence, then bent a little to let his member rub on
the slickness at her entrance. Alayne threw her head back when she felt him
aligning with her center.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asked her again.
“I do. Now.” she commanded hoarsely.
 
It was impossible. Petyr simply couldn’t keep his hands off his cock imagining
Sansa’s little pink cunt opening, begging him to possess her in a public
balcony, where anyone could catch them on act. The idea had him thrusting
against his own hand, imagining fucking her.
 
The man thrusted in her in a long, fluid movement, making them both gasp.
Alayne felt completely filled, in a most delicious way. He started moving,
slowly at first, giving her the chance to adjust to the feeling. After some
time, she found the pace hardly fast enough. She arched her back, her right
hand reaching his nape, pulling at his hair. She saw his effort to keep it slow
on the way his brows were twitched.
“Don’t hold back.” she asked softly.
He started moving faster and harder almost instantly, and his grunts felt very
aphrodisiac on her ears. His hands pressed hard on her hips and hers hold on
the balustrade for her own life. She knew she would have marks of this
encounter on her skin tomorrow, and she liked the idea.
“I am so close again, oh, my-” she exclaimed when he pressed a particularly
pleasurable spot inside of her. She started murmuring disconnected words at
each of his thrusts, and his breathing were becoming more elabourate.
“Don’t stop now, please.” her voice broke.
“I would never.” he grunted through clenched teeth.
His voice sent a shiver down her body and soon she was tripping over the edge
once more. This time, she couldn’t help screaming loud and the sound would have
been his name, had he given her it. Her climax triggered his and, with one last
deep thrust he spilled his seed within her, her name leaving her lips like the
prayer of a dying man.
 
Almost at the same time as the man who was a alternative version of himself
orgasmed, Petyr found his own relief, the feeling much more intense than he had
felt in a long time. Even more than the orgasm he had on the night that had
inspired the piece. His breath was labored, he felt a layer of sweat covering
his entire body. The girl could write. And she had a hell of a good
imagination. He wondered if she had used the touch of some other man to
describe his and a irrational fury took over him for a second. He went back to
the ending of the text to distract his mind of the possessive feeling towards
the woman.
 
After their breaths got back to normal, the man put himself back inside his
pants and helped Alayne recompose herself. When he noticed her searching for
her white knickers, he smirked at her with the piece in hands. She went for it,
but he kept them out of her reach.
“These are mine. Unless you want them so bad you come find me for them.” he
pocketed the white piece and leaned for her hand. He took it in his, planted a
chaste kiss on her knuckles and solemnly said:
“I was an immense pleasure to meet you, Miss Stone.” he stood erect, smiled
mischievously at her and went back to the ball room. When he crossed the doors,
she felt something on her palm. Opening it, she saw a black business card.
There was no name printed on it. Just the figure of a bird and an address
written in silver letters. Alayne knew, deep in her soul, she would go through
hell to find that mysterious man. She put the card on her lingerie, holding on
to it as if her life depended on this. Maybe it truly did, in the end.
 
Sansa Stark
 
Petyr read the final of the text while he felt his body functions normalizing.
After he was feeling almost himself again, he cleaned the mess he had made
while lost in the thought of her, poured himself another shot f whiskey and
returned to his chair, in order to open her second email. He was very curious
about the content of this one. Especially after he read the subject. “Urgent”.
He wondered what the redhead could so urgently want from him. He clicked on the
message and a smirk spread on his face when he begun the reading.
 
___________________________________________________________________________
To: Petyr Baelish
From: Sansa Stark
Subject: Urgent
 
Mister Baelish, please, ignore my last email. Really, I was planning to send it
for a friend, but I accidentally hit your name on my contacts list.
It’s just girlish nonsense, don’t waste your time, just delete it.
I am sorry again,
 
Sansa Stark
___________________________________________________________________________
 
He noticed how the words she used to refer to him were much more formal on the
second message. He was sure she was being sincere. She had never meant for him
to read any of that. Which only made him cherish the masterpiece even more. He
was convinced he had just received and drowned in some of Sansa’s deepest
thoughts. The young woman was always in his thoughts, even when he urged her to
keep from rising to surface, and now he had the impression himself was in her
mind as well. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking and clicking Reply on the
second message.
 
___________________________________________________________________________
To: Sansa Stark
From: Petyr Baelish
Subject: Urgent
 
Too late, I’m afraid sweetling. I’ve read  all  of it.
But don’t worry, I would never describe it as a waste of my time, au contraire,
I would say it was very amusing.
 
Petyr
 
PS: I am available for the real deal. If interested, you know where to find me.
___________________________________________________________________________
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