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“Alayne, Alayne, I’m Alayne, not Sansa.” She tried to convince herself. “But if I’m Alayne then why – why did he?” Sansa closed her eyes as she remembered the day’s events. So much had happened when all she had wanted to do was build a snow-castle. Build Winterfell. He surprised her when he offered to help with her castle, Sansa recalled. She was even enjoying herself for the first time in, well, she couldn’t remember when. She giggles at the memory of throwing a snowball at Lord Petyr; she had no idea he could be any fun at all. Truth be told, he had always frightened her a little. In Kingslanding, he had kept his distance, standing aside as Joffrey had his Knight’s beat and humiliate her; but she always noticed him watching. No matter where she was in Kingslanding, he seemed to be nearby. He was always calm and when her blue eyes met his grey-green ones, they never smiled along with his lips.
Sansa paced her chambers and found herself standing on the balcony over-looking the Vale. It was beautiful she thought, but not as lovely as Winterfell had been. Staring out over the clouds, Sansa moved two fingers over her lips as she thought of Lord Petyr. After the snowball, he moved in close, closer than he’d ever allowed before. He spoke of warming her and before she realized what he had planned, his lips were on hers.
At first, she had resisted, tried to pull away but that only pulled her closer into his embrace. Caught in his grasp, the taste of mint on his tongue. Sansa found herself enjoying his touch, more than she expected to. It hadn’t been her first, Joffrey had kissed her, his were rough and painful. The hound too kissed her after he demanded a song; his kiss was cruel and demanding. Her Lord husband Tyrion had kissed her on their wedding day, while his touch was light and kind, Sansa still couldn’t find pleasure there. Lord Petyr though, his touch, his kiss, it seemed to stir within her like none other. Sansa found herself replaying their moment over and over again.
While she wished her mind would stay on their kiss, it kept dwelling on what happened afterwards. Little Robert destroying her castle and Aunt Lysa. Aunt Lysa haunted Sansa. Watching Littlefinger push her out the moon-door. His murderous moment put Sansa on guard, his own wife, he showed no remorse for her death and she worried he may turn around and hurt her, murder her one day. As her thoughts lingered on his Littlefinger side, she thought about his breathtaking kiss again. How he thought her more beautiful than her own mother. Sansa's hand to believe Petyr would never hurt her, not like all the other men in her life.
Coming back in from the cold, Sansa continued to pace her chambers thinking about Lord Petyr and their kiss. She wondered if he would kiss her again if he could bring back that unknown feeling she had felt? As the hour grew dark, Sansa realized she spent the majority of the evening thinking of Petyr. Yet, she continued to pace and wonder. Finally, when she knew the castle would be asleep, Sansa found her courage and left her chambers in search of Lord Petyr.
She found him sitting in the library, sitting in one of the tall wingback chairs by the fire, book in his hands with a glass of wine on the table next to him. Sansa stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him slowly take a sip of wine and setting his glass back down without a glance away from his page. Silently talking herself up, she made her mind up and decided she finally wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She knew what kissing felt like, but all the rest; so many songs and tales told of what beholds a man and a woman. Sansa was once wed, shouldn’t she know? Her thoughts continued to spiral.
“I wonder?” Sansa said softly.
“Wonder what sweetling?” Petyr inquired as he turned a page, unsurprised by her presence.
Sansa looked back to the closed door, hoping everyone truly was asleep.
“Father,” Sansa began in her best Alayne impression. “Except you're not.” She fell silent as Petyr finally looked up from his book.
“Alayne, we’ve had this conversation. Do I need to repeat myself?” Petyr gave her a warning tone as he spoke, watching as Sansa once again looked back to the still-closed door.
“No.” she replied as she moved towards him. Sansa smiled down at the lean man as she took the book out of his hands placing it on the table next to his wine. “You’re not really my father.” She whispered over him with a coy smile on her lips.
Petyr shifted slightly in his chair, enjoying the closeness she allotted. “Brings us back to you wonder? What do you wonder sweetling?” he hummed while reaching out to brush a loose strand of her hair off her pretty face. In one swift moment, he took her hand and pulled her down upon his lap.
“This afternoon,” she began as Petyr wrapped his arm around her narrow waist. “Earlier, when – when you kissed me. Why?” she asked so soft and sweetly, Petyr felt himself begin to ache for the young beauty on his lap. “If I’m supposed to be your daughter after all?” she finished with another soft smile.
“Hmm,” Petyr hummed as he continued to caress the strand of her hair. “Because sweetling, this pretty face deserves to be kissed.” He mused as he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
Sansa thought about his words for a moment with a blushing smile. “What else does this pretty face deserve?” she whispered, leaning deeper into his touch.
Petyr openly smiled at her question. His little bird was up to something, and he knew exactly what she was after. He wondered himself if she truly knew what he was asking him for.
“Sweetling,” he leaned up into her lithe form, lightly tightening his grasp around her. She started this he thought, but he was going to finish it. “Tell me what you desire my sweet.”
“I’m – “she started to stammer out. “I’m a woman flowered, a widow and yet still maiden.” Sansa began again in a whisper, “but your kiss, your touch, that, that was the first time I felt…” she drifted off with a blush, embarrassed for her wonting.
“Go on.” Petyr encouraged.
“I know I have a lot to learn, but to first learn, once must have a teacher. Is that not so?” She finished as she brushed her fingers over his perfectly trimmed beard, enjoying the wicked grin upon his lips.
Petyr had to shift again; the effect Sansa was having on him was increasing with each word she uttered. He knew patience would achieve his ultimate goal, but the longer she sat atop him, the less patience he became. “Very wise sweetling.” He breathed after a moment. “And whom do you intend to teach you? Or do you wish your dear father to find you one?” With a quirking brow and a smile, his grey-green eyes devoured the young maid before him.
Sansa smiled widely at Lord Petyr; his continued pretence of being her father gave her a wicked idea. Slowly, Sansa leaned her whole body into him, licking her lips softly drawing his eyes to her every move. She placed her lips below his ear and in a breath, scarcely audible asked: “Would my father like a kiss?” She could feel his excitement grow beneath her as his breathing grew heavier. Her curiosity furthered as she caused Littlefinger’s breath to hitch. Her desire to lose her maidenhood had been a difficult one, but to choose Petyr Baelish as her instructor had been all too easy.
Her words finally pushed his patience to its breaking point. His hands went to her cheeks, bringing her lips to his. Unlike their first kiss, Sansa didn’t struggle against him but yielded immediately. His lips moved over hers softly at first, all too soon, however, she tasted mint as he deepened their kiss hungrily. Her eyes shut tight as his tongue rolled over hers and a growing warmth spread throughout her entire body. Petyr paused their deepening kiss and moved his touch to her neck, nipping gently below her ear.
“Tell me what you want sweetling.” He teased between nips.
“Teach me.” Was all Sansa could moan out at his touch.
“Teach you what love?” He nipped a little harder in response.
“Everything.” Sansa managed to breathe out as his lips found hers again. He moaned into her sweet kiss as he moved one arm under her thighs and swung her legs over the armrest of the chair. He slowly moved his fingers lightly up and down her leg, letting the fabric of her skirts fall aside. As he continued to move his fingers higher and higher up her smooth leg, Petyr could feel Sansa stiffen as she realized how exposed she was becoming. He waited half a second, seeing if she’d stop him, to his surprise, she did nothing to warn him off. Nipping at the base of her neck again, she continued to move his hand up her inner thigh in search of the sweetness he desperately desired.
As Sansa felt Petyr’s hand wander closer to her centre, her body stiffened in panic. Never had a man touched her so intimately. The higher his fingers climbed, the wider she shifted her legs apart for him without thought. An aching warmth grew deep within her the closer his fingers came. Terrified to what may happen, her excitement for that growing warmth was too alluring to stop him.
“Mmmm, shall we see how much you want this sweetling?” Petyr mused as his fingers found her sweet spot. “Dripping.” He hummed excitingly as his fingers methodically moved over her clit forcing a moaned shiver from Sansa’s entire form. Sansa could no longer focus on Petyr’s minty breath, as he increased the pressure beneath her skirts. Another shudder ran through Sansa’s entire form as Petyr’s skilled fingers slipped within her sweetness and moved rhythmically. Her hands found the collar of his shirt as she moaned out at his unrelenting touch. Petyr watched as Sansa slowly began to come undone, her eyes closed tight as her head fell back slightly. She kept a firm grip on his shoulders as Petyr’s other arm held her tightly to his lap. Sansa’s breathing laboured as he brought her closer and closer to her first climax. It took every part of her to not squirm atop the malicious Lord as he drove her into ecstasy.
For half a second Lord Petyr considered stopping just before she could come, tease her more before letting her experience the sweetest of releases, but the glow of her cheek dismayed him. He wanted to watch her, to see and know that he was the first, the only. He increased the pressure of his fingers continued assault. He could feel her walls begin to tremble and he knew she was seconds away. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck in attempts to silence herself, pressing her flushed cheek into his collar as waves of pleasure washed over, rendering her spent.
As Petyr moved his hand away, he chuckled at the small whimpering moan that escaped Sansa’s lips. She was already missing his touch. With mixed emotions, Sansa pulled her head up with a glowing look upon her pretty face.
“What was that?” She breathed out after a laboured second. Petyr smiled widely as he popped his fingers into his mouth sucking her juices clean off.
“That sweetening was the beginning.” He found her lips and kissed her deeply letting her taste herself on his tongue. “Mmm, your perfect.” Petyr cooed as he brushed her hair back from her glistening cheeks. Sansa gleamed at him, her breathing returning to normal and she realized she wanted more.
“If that's the beginning, what follows?” she asked softly while placing soft kisses along his jaw. Petyr sat amused by her enthusiasm and wondered just how far he could take her tonight. He was aching to throw her down and bury himself deep within her warmth.
Decidedly, Petyr corrected Sansa’s skirts before shifting her up off his lap. “Next sweetening,” he quirked a brow, “You think you’re ready for next my pet?” He stood from the chair, leaving little distance between them.
“Yes.” Sansa replied somewhat eagerly. Petyr looked at her and smiled. Cheered by her wonted determination.
Before Sansa knew it, Lord Petyr spun her around and made quick work of her gown, her skirts dropped to the floor as he began to untie her corset. He removed the constricting garment quickly leaving her bare and exposed to his lingering eye. He kissed the base of her neck before turning her back around. Sansa’s arms instinctual moved to cover her breast from the chill of the room, as she watched Petyr look up and down her naked form.
“Be a dear, help your father.” He whispered, keeping up his game as he motioned for Sansa to unbutton his shirt. Her eyes grew wide as her shaky hands moved away from her chest and began to work away at each button.
Sansa’s fingers moved clumsily over the first couple of buttons. After that, Sansa's confidence grew and she quickly undid the rest. She pushed her hand over his shoulders, taking the shirt off and letting it join her clothes on the floor. His scar caught her attention first; her eyes wide as she traced the full length from the top of his chest down to his navel. Sansa placed her hands back on his chest, staring at the mark her uncle had bestowed on Lord Petyr years ago. Before she realized it, Sansa was leaning into his chest, placing feather-like kisses atop his scar. Her kisses followed the markdown to his navel, placing Sansa on her knees before him. Calmly Petyr undid his breeches and let them pool to his feet, stepping out of them with a wicked grin at Sansa’s innocent face as she looked up at him in shock. Standing naked before the young wolf on her knees, he relished knowing he was the first man she’d ever beheld.
“Do you know what comes next sweetening?” Petyr asked quietly. Without a word, Sansa shook her head no and awaited his guidance. Considering all his options Petyr dropped to his knees before her. “Let me show you.” He grinned as he guided Sansa onto her back. He shifted her legs open, placing himself between them and started to lightly kiss her inner thigh, slowing working his way to her centre. Teasing her with nips and heavy breath, Sansa started to squirm in anticipation. Before he placed his defining kiss upon her, he placed an arm up across her stomach to limit her movements. His lips found her core and kissed her deeply.
Sansa placed a hand over her mouth as Petyr's tongue lavished her. Her moans grew louder in spite of her efforts to stay quiet. That sweet pleasant bliss returned, rising within with each stroke of his touch and Sansa heard herself begging Petyr for more. The scruff of his beard tickled her inner thigh as his skilled fingers joined in with his tongue. Sansa muffled another sharp moan as she withered under him. Petyr could feel Sansa getting close, a few more flicks of his tongue and she’d come undone for the second time that night. Her breath caught in her throat as sweat began to form over her body; still urging Petyr to continue, he found himself all too happy to oblige.
All too soon, Sansa’s walls tightened and she was spent. Heavy pants of breath, Sansa laid spread out on the floor, naked as her name day with Lord Petyr Baelish grinning between her creamy thighs, slightly out of breath himself.
“Beautiful.” He breathed while layering her lower body in kisses. He had dreamed of having her like this, hearing her beg his name. The reality was far sweeter than he could have imagined. He considered teaching her to please him, licking his lips at the vision of her innocent lips hot around him, but he wanted something greater. That lesson would have to wait.
Without warning, Petyr slid up Sansa’s still panting form and pinned her arms above her head. He skillfully guided himself into her one-handed as he planted a deep kiss on her lips.
“Ohh!” Sansa gasped at the sudden pressure but she quickly adjusted to it. Petyr continued to kiss her as he set their pace. Sansa noted that he no longer tasted of mint, but of her own sex. Her focus moved to the rhythmic pace he set and moved in sync with Petyr.
Sansa was deliciously tight around Petyr’s manhood as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper into her. Finally unwinding her arms, Sansa immediately wrapped her arms around his neck pulling his body flush with hers as he continued to increase their pace. Petyr lifted Sansa into his arms, sitting them up as he drove himself into her sex. Rocking them slightly in pace of their movements, Petyr silenced another one of Sansa’s moans with a deepening kiss. He moved his lips to her pert breasts, suckling her nipple as Sansa bit down on his collar to silence yet another moan.
Finding her rhythm with Petyr, Sansa shifted forward pushing Petyr onto his back, his hands dug into her hips as she rode him shamelessly. Their combined sweat filled the air as Petyr felt Sansa’s inner walls begin to clench for the third time in as many minutes.
Preferring to be on top, Petyr flipped them over once more, driving himself into Sansa chasing his own release. All too soon, Sansa cried out in ecstasy as her climax washed over her hard. Petyr followed seconds after, spilling his seed within her, not caring if she grew large with his child from it.
Both spent and exhausted. Petyr moved beside Sansa as she moaned at the loss of him inside her. She turned to her side, smiling widely at Petyr, running his hand up and down her arm. She leaned into his touch, kissing him lightly.
“Mmm, that was amazing!” Sansa breathed between her tired yawns.
“A wonderful first lesson my love.” Petyr smiled. “But I think bed now.” He chuckled at the pout of her lip when mentioned bed, she didn’t want to go to sleep yet, in spite of her exhausted state. Too irresistible, Petyr caught her pouting lip in his teeth and kissed her deeply once more before pulling them both onto their feet.
Dawning on their clothes once more, Sansa couldn’t hide the glowing smile on her flushed face. Petyr relished the beauty of the girl. He was her first, he would be her only, he’d see to that.
“Can I go to your bed?” Sansa asked hopefully once her gown was back on.
“That would not result in sleep sweetling.” He chuckled in reply. Sansa pouted again while attempting to hide her latest yawn. “Tomorrow my love, I’ll teach you more tomorrow.” Petyr promised.
“Really!?” Sansa half asked half-hoped.
“You have my word sweetling.” With a kiss to her forehead, Petyr Baelish sent his young love off to her chambers to dream of tomorrow.