faderift | tea and mending (closed to Tyrion)

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{ tyrion lannister }

tea and mending (closed to Tyrion)

WHO: Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark
WHAT: A quiet evening in the tent of awkward.
WHEN: Drakonis sometime
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: No warnings at the moment, other than cuteness.

Sansa has felt much more comfortable spending evenings with Tyrion since that lovely day in Wintermarch and so it feels natural enough to have his mending spread across her lap while he's reading and there's a low fire burning in their tent. She has a cup of tea that she's sipping from time to time and occasionally she looks up from her stitching to see what book he's found himself occupied with. She's not much for reading, unfortunately, but she does like to listen to what he's read about and debate with him.

She draws a final stitch along a bit of elaborate embroidery (wolves and lions together, actually, all along the collar and sleeves of a particularly-fine golden tunic) and holds it up for Tyrion to inspect, if he wishes.

"Do you like it, my lord, or is it too much?"

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"Would you like more?" Sansa is feeling a bit brave tonight and she wants to please him because she loves when he makes pleased little noises and looks at her the way he's looking at her now.

"I would like everything you can give me, and you know it." He smiled as he reached up to kiss her, lips warm on hers.

"You know I get shy about these things," Sansa reminds him. Still, she carefully works her shift off and drops it over the side of the bed before sliding beneath the furs again. It's a small step but a significant one.

"I know, and no mocking is intended." He murmurs, sliding his hand along the curve of her hip, and up her side, marveling in her smooth, snow white skin. "I just like to tease you."

"I love when you touch me," Sansa says, purring a little under his touch. She loves when Tyrion touches her and she wants to show him just how much his touches are appreciated.

"I love touching you." Is his quiet growl of his own, stroking his way up her skin. Just the way she arches ... just so. He let out another growl and pushed himself up to taste her skin.

This isn't too much. This is something she can handle for the moment and Sansa reaches out and lets her fingers curl into his hair, drift lower to touch his shoulders and back.

"More?"

He hums again, sighing as she touches him, arching a little underneath it. A soft sigh, as he kissed her hand gently, as it moved over his shoulder.

"Do you want more, Tyrion?" Sansa's voice is breathless and soft, a sound she's never really made before. It seems ethereal and unlike her but she feels like she can't put any more weight to it at the moment; she feels if she does, she'll break the moment.

"Of - of course I want more." He breathed out, shifting up to kiss her again. "I always want more of you. I ... hunger for you."

Sansa tips her head a bit, exposing her neck for him. "Take," she murmurs. "Please? I'm offering it. All of it, if you want."

The last time he hesitated he nearly broke her heart. This time there is no pause, merely hunger, as his mouth finds her neck and his hands find her hips to shift her where he needs to be, and he begins to grind against her. His hands sliding now between her legs, to touch that sensitive nub so he can warm her and get that sweet hot slide into her that they both want, even as his mouth is closing down on her, sucking as his hands move, his hips move, he just wants to move inside of her and everything is on fire in his mind...

There's no hesitation on Sansa's part either. She's moving with him, hips clumsily seeking the touch of his hand. With him, it always feels good and she's never afraid. He's good to her no matter what.

"What can I do to help?" she whispers, fingers ruffling his hair.

"Hmmm ... shift a little up - ah - yes - there and just ... just tell me when it hurts." It always hurts, a little, when you are trying to press a rather hard piece of manhood into a rather tight if not slick place, and he isn't here to hurt her. No, no he wants this to feel like absolute heaven to her, so he'll take all the time in the world.

Sansa doesn't want to tell him that. If she tells him that, he'll stop, and she won't have pleased him. She wants to please him. So, instead, when she feels the sting of his cock pressing into her she doesn't say anything at all and she tries to school her face into something rather mild. She does whimper a little, though, and squeezes her eyes shut.

"Am I pleasing you?"

"Well ... yes ... but ... " He sucks in a breath, so he isn't pushing in any further, as he watches her face. "Am I pleasing you?"

"It hurts," Sansa admits quietly. "But it always has. I didn't expect anything different," she says.

"It's not so terrible. Not like before. Do you know a different way?"

He nodds his head softly, before gently easing her back, letting his finger tease at that nub again. Rubbing it gently, back and forth with his fingers.

"Yes, I know a different way."

"Show me, my lord," Sansa whispers. When his fingers tease her again, she feels herself relax and just enjoy the sensations and the fear she'd had before eases away. This, she likes. She trusts him to stop whenever she needs him to, as well, and she smiles softly at him.

"This is better, Tyrion."

"Good ... good." He leaned in to kiss her again, before bringing her lips down her skin, over her breasts, then in the center between them.

"That is how it is supposed to feel, darling wife."

"It feels...feels so good," Sansa murmurs. This she can live with. She can more than live with this - this actually feels amazing and nothing like the humiliating things that she'd been put through before.

"Much...much better, Tyrion."

"All right then..." And he just continues to move at that same pace, making himself slow down. For her. For himself. To make this as enjoyable as possible.

It is enjoyable now, much to Sansa's delight. Sex has never been something she has ever been able to truly relax for but she is relaxed with Tyrion because she trusts him. He's never brought her harm intentionally, has never struck her in anger. She knows that everything he does is meant to bring her pleasure and that helps her let go of some of the fear from before.

"Just...just like this," she says, spanning a hand against his back. "Keep going? Please?"

"All right ..." And he does, without pause or hesitation even as his breath starts to speed and noises start to come from his lips. Yet this is good, right here, and he will not ruin it.

This is something that Sansa thinks she could learn to enjoy, eventually, because right now it's very good. She doesn't know if she'll ever be fully over what has happened to her in the name of marriage but she hopes the good memories will soon outweigh the bad.

"Kiss me?" she whispers, moving her hips up against his. "Please?"

He made a strangled noise because when she moved like that he slipped a little deeper and it was quite delightful torture. As it was, he tipped his face up so he could kiss his way up her jaw to her waiting mouth.

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