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Things like this do not happen to Sansa. This just isn't who she is. She is the girl who plans and keep schedules and analyzes each and every interaction with the person she's dating before even making the slightest move. Sansa can count on one hand the number of boys she's even kissed - Joffrey, Harry, Jon - and the number of boys she let go down on her is only one - Jon - and even that was after 8 months of dating.
None of this explains why she is in her childhood bedroom biting her thumb to keep quiet while Margaery Tyrell eats her out like she is born to do it.
Half of their small town in downstairs in her living room, most of them buzzed on her mother's spiked eggnog, Christmas music blaring from the speakers. Usually Sansa loved their annual Christmas party, but everyone kept asking about Jon and what happened and who was this Ygritte woman Jon left her for? And then Margaery rescued her from Genna Lannister's questions, the two of them hiding in her room and splitting the whiskey in Margaery's flask.
I've never even kissed a girl, she thinks wildly as she grabs a handful of Margaery's dark hair, unsure if she intends to pull Margaery closer or push her away. The logical part of her screams she should stop this, this is insane, Arya is notorious for barging in without knocking, and the idea someone could catch her with Margaery's head between her thighs made Sansa want to die of embarrassment.
But this is also the best thing Sansa's ever felt in her life, and stopping just isn't an option.
"You are so wet," Margaery laughs, her tongue leisurely sliding up the center of her making Sansa shake. "You like this, huh?"
It takes Sansa three attempts before she manages, "Uh-huh."
"How many girls have tasted your cunt?" Margaery asks, easing two fingers inside Sansa and crooking them to stroke a place that makes Sansa nearly bend in half at the sensation. "I bet they're lining up for it."
"N-None."
"None? I'm the first?" Margaery grins, running her hands up and down the soft skin of Sansa's inner thighs. "Lucky me."
"Marg - "
"You taste so good," she continues, parting Sansa with her thumbs, drawing her tongue up in a slow, deliberate motion. Sansa moans, quickly biting her lip to catch it, but Margaery seems to take it as a challenge. She rolls her tongue over Sansa's clit, pulling it into her mouth for a moment, and Sansa cannot control her hips, pitching them upward only for Margaery to push them back onto the mattress. Margaery runs the tips of her fingers over Sansa's wetness, stretching her hand upward until it is in front of Sansa's mouth. "Taste how good you are."
Sansa freezes for a moment, thoughts racing. This is definitely outside her comfort zone. It is so far past her comfort zone, she doesn't even know how to get back there. But Margaery's green eyes are hot with desire and somehow Sansa finds herself reaching forward, sucking Margaery's fingertips into her mouth. Margaery smiles as the flavor of Sansa's desire dances across her tongue, and Sansa seriously cannot believe this is happening.
"See?" Margaery says, inching up Sansa's body to push up Sansa's sweater, tugging down the cup of her bra to catch a hard, rosy nipple between her teeth. "I could eat you all day."
"Fuck," Sansa breathes shakily, fisting the sheets in her hands. "Marg, the - the party - "
"Oh, the party," she echoes with a playful smile, shimmying back down Sansa's body. "Well, I certainly can't send you back down to the party like this."
She shouts at the sudden, intense feel of Margaery's mouth against her, Margaery's tongue sliding up and down, mouth suckling hard on her clit. Sansa buries her fingers in Margaery's hair, no confusion in her head now as to whether or not she is trying to keep Margaery still. She rolls her hips, moving against Margaery's mouth, and it makes Margaery groan appreciatively against her. Margaery's eyes flick up, locking with Sansa's, and Sansa wants to close her eyes, to break the connection, to pretend this isn't the best fucking thing she's ever felt in her entire life.
Her orgasm hits her hard, tightening every muscle in her body, her toes curling in pleasure; her thighs shake as Margaery works her through it, Margaery's well manicured hands hooked around her thighs, mouth never breaking contact. Sansa cannot catch her breath, pushing her hips up to maintain contact, and Margaery complies with the silent request, moaning softly as her tongue rests against Sansa's clit. She pulls away slowly, Sansa's pleasure shining on her lips, and it is that more than anything else that makes Sansa blush.
Margaery tosses a leg over her body, straddling Sansa, before leaning down, taking her face between her palms, and kissing her. Sansa remembers how Jon tried to kiss her once after going down on her and how quickly she'd pulled away, but it doesn't occur to her to do that now. No, now she rears up, pushes her tongue into Margaery's mouth, and tries to keep the nagging voice in her head at bay a little longer.
"You are so fucking sexy," Margaery whispers against Sansa's mouth, her thumb catching Sansa's bottom lip where it is fullest. "I cannot wait to see these lips around my clit."
"God!"
"Did I scandalize you?" she teases, her hands sliding up under Sansa's sweater, palming her breasts without hesitation. "I like it when you blush. But it's unnecessary. No need to be shy once you've come in my mouth."
"Margaery..." Her eyes flutter shut as Margaery's fingers slip into her bra, toying with her nipples, while she presses suckling kisses to her collarbone. "I'm not...I'm not gay."
"That's okay, baby. You don't have to be gay to like it when I eat you out. You don't have to be gay to like eating me out. I don't really like labels anyway." One of her hands stealing down Sansa's torso, she pressed two fingers to Sansa's still sensitive clit. "Do you like this?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you like that it's me doing it?" For the first time Sansa sees vulnerability on Margaery's face. "Or are you picturing Jon?"
Sansa shakes her head. "No, I...Just you."
Margaery grins, kissing her again. "Winter break is really long, and you are really hot. What's wrong with us having a little fun?" Moving her mouth to Sansa's ear, Margaery's hips rolling against Sansa's, she whispers, "Think about it, San. Think about all the ways I can make you come, all the ways I will make you come."
"I don't - I don't do things like this, Marg."
"Sweetie, if you don't relax, you're going to have a heart attack before you're twenty-one. Let's relax together, hmm?" Taking Sansa's hand and leading it beneath her skirt, Sansa gasps as she realizes Margaery isn't wearing underwear, that her fingers are touching nothing but wet flesh. "I want you, Sansa. And I think you want me too."
For a moment Sansa could do nothing but run her fingers back and forth across Margaery's aroused flesh, watching with fascination at the way Margaery's eyes fluttered, her breathing caught. It's different from touching herself, and Sansa can admit she wants to see Margaery come, wants to see her fall apart the way she did.
"I don't know how," is all Sansa can manage, fingers clumsily running over Margaery's clit.
Margaery smiles, reaching down to guide Sansa's hand. "Don't worry, baby. I'll teach you."