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He lifts her from the boat and carries her to dry sand like a valiant knight. She loves the quick kiss he gives once she’s on her feet again. She’s grateful the sea is at her back at last.
The castellan smiles but Jon says he’s one of his father’s bootlickers and no friend of theirs. He’ll have their sheets inspected twice a day while they’re here. The thought makes her skin crawl.
Her hair is whipping about wildly in the wind as she stares at the massive castle looming above them. She does not care for it.
“It looks forbidding,” she whispers in Jon’s ear.
“It does.”
“Some would say the same of Winterfell, I suppose.”
“Winterfell was your home. This is no home to either of us but perhaps we will find some joy in each other here, wife?”
His grey eyes are soft and loving and she knows he’s right. This is time for them, time away from his father and court. She will cherish it.
“We will, husband. It’s a home away from home.” A place to discover new things. Her lips curl into an impish grin. She quite likes that idea. She likes the idea of surprising him as well.
The king and his man might have expectations but they do not get to ruin this for them. Their time on Dragonstone will be about her and Jon as much as possible, she determines.
He nearly stumbles and his mouth falls open when he finds her seated upon the bed that night. Her hair is unbound like usual but her robe is noticeably absent. Her shift is lighter, lacier than the one she typically wears. He blinks, not certain if this is a mirage or not.
She nervously clasps her hands together. “I had thought we might…try something new.”
Something new? Gods be good, he’d love to try something new.
Her sixteenth name day is approaching, a joyous day ordinarily that has been changed into one of anxiety, the appointed day he’s been told in no uncertain terms by his father that he must bed her or lose her. He stills the wrath the thought brings. He will not think on it. His sweet wife wants to try something new.
“We’ve never been…completely bare…” She trails off, her cheeks stained pink.
They’ve been married nearly fifteen moons and never seen each other naked. She was just a girl of four and ten when they married and he was hardly going to demand to see her naked when she was more child than woman then and so clearly terrified.
Oh, things have changed from those early days. They are no longer strangers. They are in love. The dry, chaste kiss he’d given her in the sept on their wedding day is a memory. They are accomplished kissers by now. The innocent girl who’d discovered him in an embarrassing position once knows plenty about how pleasing it can be to touch oneself now…and to touch each other.
But never naked until now and he’s going to get to see her naked tonight. He’s already getting excited at the thought and hopes not to embarrass himself.
His feet, which had felt leaden when he’d entered and found her like this, move swiftly to the bed.
His hands are already reaching for her shift when she giggles and shakes her head. “You first, husband.”
“It’s quite stiff.” He smirks until she wraps her hand around him and he suppresses a groan. She gives him a stroke and the groan is no longer suppressed. There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, it’s very soft, too.” He scowls. “Well, it’s hard but the skin is soft and smooth…like velvet.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip at that last word. His balls tingle as he balls his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her and demanding his turn. Not that he minds this…inspection.
She’d been so sweet and eager, tugging off his boots and helping him undress, all while wearing nothing but that damned lacy shift that would slip from her shoulders so easily.
He’d seen a naked woman or two before he’d wed. Kings Landing has many sights for a young man to behold and naked women aren’t that hard to find but, prince or not, Jon didn’t take his pleasure with any. He’s certainly not glanced at any women like that since they married.
It’s been fifteen months of watching the beautiful young woman before him grow older, old enough anyway, he hopes. Fifteen long months of waiting to see his wife, all of her. Are her nipples more pink or tawny? Is her hair down there as red as it is upon her head? The questions plague him.
But first, his torment continues. She seems a natural for this brand of torture as her hand glides up and down his shaft with more confidence and just the right pressure.
“Gods, Sansa…”
“Is it good or bad?” She knows the answer, the little minx.
His head sinks to his chest and he tries to think of anything besides spilling all over her lacy shift. “Very good.”
Just when he’s sure he’s going to lose that battle, she ceases her movements. “My turn,” she whispers and he wants to thank all the gods above for preserving his dignity this much.
However, when his fingers trace the slope of her bare shoulders once the shift has puddled to the floor at their feet and when his eyes behold her perfect teats, the size of ripe peaches with rosy pink nipples that make his mouth water inexplicably, and he sees the thatch of dark red hair between her legs, he knows his thanks might have been in vain.
And when she places his hand upon her breast, wraps her own back around his cock and slips her tongue into his mouth, he’s sure of it.