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“You should come down this weekend,” Margaery purrs during one of their 2 AM phone calls. It is the sort of velvet-lined voice designed to make someone shiver, and it certainly has the intended effect on Sansa.
“I don’t know. I have this huge test on Monday – “
“Sansa.” Margaery laughs short and slightly incredulous. “Can we just skip all the excuses and attempted dodges? I know you like me. You know I like you. Come down this weekend.”
It isn’t until after she agrees and the call has ended that Sansa realizes the coming weekend is Valentine’s Day.
She told Val what happened over break two days after returning to school, and, just as she expected, Val took the announcement with the same calm unaffectedness she took everything. And so when Sansa confesses her fears about taking the train down to Princeton to see Margaery for the weekend, Val’s only reaction is to say, “Then you’re going to need some sex underwear.”
Which is how Sansa found herself in a changing room with Val, a variety of lingerie she isn’t really sure she can afford all around them.
“I don’t know about this,” Sansa says as she holds the tips of her fingers over her nipples, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. She is wearing the least over-the-top of the outfits Val selected – a lacy bra and underwear set in emerald green – but she still feels terribly exposed. Pretty and cute are things Sansa can handle, but deliberate sexiness has never been her forte.
“Okay, relax,” Val orders as she forcibly reaches around Sansa to tug her arms away from her chest. “I’ve seen nipples before, and you need to breathe.” Gathering Sansa’s long hair and pushing it forward over Sansa’s shoulder so it hangs over her breasts, she rests her chin on Sansa’s shoulder. “You’re really beautiful, San. And there is nothing wrong with what you’re doing.”
Sansa meets Val’s gaze in the mirror. After a moment she blurts out, “I really like her.”
Val’s smile becomes teasing. “I know. I hear what you guys do when you think I’m asleep.”
Sansa turns a ferocious shade of crimson. “You heard?”
Val laughs as she gathers up the lingerie they won’t be buying. “You’re loud when you’re turned on.”
Sansa manages not to immediately die of embarrassment but only just.
When she gets off the train Friday afternoon, Sansa wears the skimpy lingerie beneath the outfit it took entirely too much time to pick out, her hair pulled into a fishtail braid Val did before rushing to class. Margaery is waiting, looking far more attractive in winter wear than any person has a right to, and Sansa inhales sharply through her nose when Margaery kisses her right there on the platform, her hot mouth a sharp contrast to the biting wind. When Margaery pulls back, Sansa surreptitiously glances around to see if anyone is watching them and discovers no one is looking at them.
“I’m so glad you came,” Margaery declares, taking Sansa’s hand and entwining their fingers. “I have a dinner reservation for us, and then I thought we could go back to my apartment, have dessert.”
If anyone else said it, it would’ve been unbearably cheesy, but Sansa can’t help but smile. As always when she is with Margaery, Sansa feels an electric charge in her stomach, the buzz of adrenaline starting to zip through her veins. Nothing is boring with Margaery, which is a pleasant change from the boys who came before her.
Sansa doesn’t mean to get drunk at dinner. As they eat exorbitantly priced meals and Margaery makes her laugh, Sansa keeps drinking glasses of sweet red wine until suddenly she realizes she’s too warm and slightly woozy. Margaery laughs when Sansa sways in her seat, sliding across the booth and running a hand over Sansa’s knee.
“Who knew you were such a lush, Stark?”
“Maybe you’re trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me,” Sansa counters, a shiver going through her as Margaery’s hand slid up her thigh, the heat of her hand a tease through her leggings. As Margaery’s hand slips beneath her skirt, Sansa inhales sharply through her nose and breathes, “Someone could see.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Margaery easily replies, two fingers pressing against Sansa’s clit. Rubbing hard and fast, catching Sansa off-guard, she suggests, “But if you’re worried, I can get the check.”
“Yes,” she agrees instantly, and Margaery smiles, withdrawing her hand and using it to signal the waiter.
During the drive to Margaery’s apartment, Sansa feels as if her heart might explode out of her check. Margaery keeps glancing over at her and smiling, and Sansa knows she’s drunk but she isn’t sure she’s quite drunk enough when Margaery says, “You should touch yourself.”
“What?”
“It’s a long drive. You don’t want me to get bored, do you?” As they stop at a red light, Margaery turns to look at her, fire in her eyes. “C’mon, San. I’ll owe you one.”
“This is crazy,” Sansa laughs even as she unhooks her seatbelt, pushing her hips up to tug her skirt over her hips while pushing down her leggings and underwear.
She can’t believe she’s doing this. Harry had asked her to once, trying to sell her on how sexy it would be, but she’d refused, the idea of it downright horrifying to her. If anyone ever told her that she’d one day do it in the front seat of Margaery Tyrell’s Audi when anyone could see, Sansa would have told them they were insane.
But Margaery brings out something in her Sansa didn’t even know was there, and that is the only excuse she can think of for why she slouches down in the seat, braces her right foot against the dash, and starts to touch herself.
“Oh,” Sansa moans as she gathers some of her wetness on her fingers and slides them over her clit, circling the bundle of nerves with precision. This certainly isn’t the first time she’s touched herself thinking of Margaery; since the Christmas party, it has become a near nightly ritual, sometimes with her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as Margaery breathes filthy suggestions. But knowing Margaery is watching, that her breathing is becoming as labored as Sansa’s, makes every sensation that much more intense.
“Jesus,” Margaery breathes as Sansa begins to push harder against her hand, her free hand flailing a bit before catching the sleeve of Margaery’s coat. “Are you close?”
“Yeah,” Sansa whimpers, speeding up her touch.
Sansa’s eyes flutter shut as her orgasm begins, crying out uninhibitedly. When her breathing returns to normal, she opens her eyes and realizes the car has stopped, and they are parked in a random park parking lot.
“What – “
“C’mon,” Margaery urges, clamoring over the seat into the backseat. Sansa hesitates only a moment before tugging up her leggings and following her into the backseat. This has reached new levels of absolute insanity. She absolutely cannot be about to have sex in the backseat of a car in a public park.
Except she is lying on top of Margaery, both of them trying to undress the other without breaking their kiss, and this is definitely happening.
“Fuck!” Margaery groans as she tugs Sansa’s sweater off, revealing the bra she’d bought with Val. Sansa moans as Margaery sits up, her mouth sealing around one of her exposed nipples. She reaches back to unhook the bra, and Margaery pulls her hands away, shaking her head as she does so.
“Leave it on. It’s fucking hot.”
Bold on wine and Margaery’s touch, Sansa pushes at Margaery’s breastbone, urging her back down on the seat. Margaery laughs and goes willingly, lifting her hips to help Sansa wrestle her free from her skinny jeans and boots. She wears no underwear, and as Sansa tries to fit herself near Margaery’s feet, Margaery wriggles out of her camisole to leave her beautifully nude across the seat.
Sansa hesitates as she awkwardly kneels on the floor of the car, her hands settling on Margaery’s knees. Margaery draws her right leg up against her chest, bracing her left heel against the passenger’s seat, and Sansa bites her lip as she looks at the center of Margaery.
“You don’t have to if you aren’t ready,” Margaery says after a minute, her face unbearably kind. Reaching down to brush a stray lock of hair from Sansa’s eyes, she assures her, “Really, it’s fine.”
“No, I want to,” Sansa insists. Skimming her hands up the tender flesh of Margaery’s inner thighs, she requests, “Just tell me if I do something wrong.”
Sansa isn’t certain who is more shocked when she puts her mouth on Margaery’s cunt, but the sharp moan Margaery releases is enough to make Sansa forget her reservations. Margaery is warm and wet, the taste of her reminding Sansa of the ocean, and she is surprised to find she likes this. She likes the taste of Margaery on her tongue, the feel of Margaery’s fingers clutching a little too tightly at her hair, the trembling of Margaery’s thighs beneath her hands.
“Fingers,” Margaery gasps out, rolling her hips, and Sansa obliges, carefully working two fingers inside of her. Margaery immediately clenches around them, and the hand tangled in Sansa’s hair tugs her towards her clit.
“Yeah, Sansa, like that, just like that,” she pants, one of her hands plucking at her nipples. Sansa flicks her eyes up to watch, her lips sealed around her clit as she pushes her tongue hard against her clit, and Margaery moans louder.
“I wish you could see how hot you look right now,” Margaery breathlessly says, her inner muscles starting to spasm around Sansa’s fingers. “Fuck, make me come, San. C’mon. C’mon. Fuck!”
Sansa cannot help but moan against Margaery’s cunt as Margaery shakes and shouts through her orgasm. Her chin and mouth is slick with Margaery’s pleasure, her jaw and tongue aching, and yet Sansa realizes she doesn’t want to stop. This wasn’t nearly as scary as she’d imagined it to be, and it was infinitely better than anything she’d done with Jon or Harry and especially Joff.
“Get up here,” Margaery orders with a laugh. Sansa obeys, quickly wiping at her face, and Margaery kisses her long and slow, hooking one leg around Sansa’s hip.
“We have to go,” Sansa says around the kiss. “We’re totally going to get arrested.”
“Completely worth it.”
They don’t get out of bed until Sansa has to catch her train on Sunday afternoon, and this time Sansa does not hesitate to reciprocate her goodbye kiss on the platform.