Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/336635.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Robb_Stark/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Robb_Stark, Sansa_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Porn_Battle
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-10 Words: 790
****** The Dreams Of Would-Be Kings and Queens ******
by hesperia
Summary
     "Smile all you want, little sister," Robb says. "But wars aren't
     fought with wooden swords. And one day I shall have to defend your
     honor." 
     Sansa laughs then, rolling her eyes at him. "Who do you think you
     are? My white knight?" she asked teasingly. 
     Despite her teasing, Robb's face grows serious. "I wish you could
     stay at Winterfell. You and I would could rule this place
     together." 
"You shouldn't be fighting with steel," Sansa hisses, pressing the linen strips
against the cut against Robb's chest. "It's too dangerous." 
It late, well past dark and they're in the godswood, at the base of the tree.
Sansa reaches over and dips the linen into the pool, a satisfactory smile on
her lips when Robb hisses at the cold wet cloth against his skin. 
"Smile all you want, little sister," Robb says. "But wars aren't fought with
wooden swords. And one day I shall have to defend your honor." 
Sansa laughs then, rolling her eyes at him. "Who do you think you are? My white
knight?" she asked teasingly. 
Despite her teasing, Robb's face grows serious. "I wish you could stay at
Winterfell. You and I would could rule this place together." 
Sansa's eyes darken, her mouth a straight line that dips low in the corners,
showing her displeasure in Robb's words. "Don't." 
"Sansa, look at me." Robb's hand is on her face, sliding through her thick red
hair to cup the back of her neck, pull her face in towards his. "You could be
my queen of the north." 
Their kiss is brief, the smallest of grazes as their lips brush against one
another. 
"It is wrong, Robb. It's not right. We can't...play these games any more."
Sansa pleads, but she doesn't pull away from him. Instead she drops her head
slightly, let's Robb rest his hand on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing
at the soft hairs. 
"It's not a game, Sansa," Robb says, and he kisses her again, this time pushing
his tongue into her mouth. She tries to protest at first, the feeling is
strange, odd, to feel the slick wet of his tongue in her mouth. But it's soft
too, and he licks at her tongue slowly, coaxing her to respond, and she does,
hesitantly at first but then the floodgates open and its all hot open mouthed
kisses. More than once their teeth collide, and Sansa tugs too hard on his lip,
but Robb is breathing hard and Sansa's cheeks are bright and ruddy, her mouth
slightly swollen. 
His hand grazes along the silk of her dress, cupping her small breast in his
hand. He takes his time, squeezing and massaging until Sansa's breath is quick
and raspy in her throat, and her hand rests on his shoulder, fingers digging
into the leather strap of his armour. Her body is tense, pleasure licking like
fire along her spine as Robb pulls her onto his lap, her skirt rucking up to
her thighs when she straddles him. 
Robb groans, holding Sansa to him, grinding up against her, through the thin
layer of her smallclothes. Sansa's eyes widen, feeling the hard flesh of Robb's
cock against her. The licks of fire shoot down deeper inside her, to somewhere
she cant even name, and Sansa grinds her own hips down against him in return,
feels the rush of pleasure pulsing down to between her legs. 
His hand scrambles down between them, into her smallclothes. Robb's hands
stroke the inside of her thighs at first, rubbing his fingertips along the soft
skin. Sansa bites her lip between her teeth, her eyes pleading with him for
more.
He touches her with one finger, running them up the length of her slit and back
down. He alternates between his two fingers, until they are slick with her
wetness on them.
"You're so...soft," Robb says, and there is a hint of surprise in his voice.
"And wet."
Sansa's face reddens, embarrassed. "I...I'm..."
"Shh...no, Sansa, it's good. It's so good." Robb says. "It's supposed to
happen."
Sansa looks at quizzically, and Robb leans in to kiss her mouth again, his
finger sliding over and up into her. Sansa gasps loud, her grasp tightening
even more against his shoulders.
"Robb," Sansa's voice is barely a whisper as his finger works in and out of
her. His hand trails up just enough to rub at the top of her cunt, making her
buck her hips wildly against him. She lets out a half moan/half sob that stills
Robb's hand, his brow furrowed.
"Sansa, are you okay?" 
Sansa's blue eyes fly open, her mouth open with her heavy breathing. "Don't
stop, Robb. Please don't stop."
He continues, and Sansa comes apart in front of him, grinding herself down on
his hand, contracting around his fingers. In the moonlight, the pale column of
her throat is exposed as she throws her head back, bright auburn hair following
out around her. 
When she comes back to herself, pulls her head back up to look at her brother,
she finds him breathing heavy, a lopsided, yet satisfied, grin on his
face. 
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