Chapter Text
It was torture, there was no other word for it. He clasped the steering wheel, held on for dear life, and by the time he had to shift up a gear, his fingers were so cramped he had trouble getting them to move at all.
The motor was wailing. The sweaty fingers of his left hand finally released the safety of the steering wheel. His throat felt very dry, to the point he was almost choking. He was scared, scared to extend his hand even remotely into her direction, terrified he wouldn’t have the strength to stop it in time – she was so close, he wouldn’t even have to stretch out very much to reach her.
Her skirt had wandered up her thigh, not very far, but far enough. He fought to keep his eyes on the road.
The girl was watching him from the side. Her blue eyes looked even brighter than usual in her pale face, and her hair lank and dark from the rain. With a shaking hand, he turned up the heating and went back to gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.
“Left here, Mr Baelish.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak. Normally he sort of liked the way the girls addressed him, sir and all, but right now, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from correcting her.
(It’s Petyr.)
It wasn’t normal, was it, the way he yearned to hear that soft voice speak his name. He dug his fingers into his leg, hoping the pain would numb everything… else that was burning through his veins, but it didn’t help very much.
She was still looking at him, and he wondered how she could look at him so greedily and yet appear so innocent, and he wondered how anyone could blame him if he gave in to what she wanted-
It wasn’t forcing her into anything, obviously, she was the driving force, he was an innocent victim-
“What were you doing out there?” His voice was hoarse, Jesus, he sounded like a chain smoker.
“I was at Dany’s, for a school project. It’s just a couple of blocks from the bus stop.”
“What subject?” He wasn’t sure yet whether it was a good idea to keep her talking, but he couldn’t just do nothing, after all, could he?
“English. Mr Lannister seems to think we have too much time on our hands, we’re supposed to hold a presentation about the main characters tomorrow and we’ve only just started the book a week ago.”
“Lannister always reads,” he muttered, staring out onto the road without seeing a thing. “He doesn’t understand other people don’t have the time.” Breathe, Petyr. Breathe. “What are you reading?”
Was it really this hot in the car?
“Lolita. Nabokov,” she replied softly, her eyes still on him.
“Well, he always thought he was funny,” he said bitterly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the leather even firmer.
“Why would that be funny?”
Fuck, had he said that out loud? “Never mind.”
“Turn right at the traffic light,” she instructed, then, almost as if she’d forgotten, “sir.”
All he wanted was to pull over and have her there on that seat, and he didn’t know for how long he could stop himself from doing just that. It couldn’t be much further, he thought desperately, they were almost out of town, it couldn’t be much further…
The rain was still streaming down the windshield, blurring his sight.
“So, are you taking driving lessons yet?” he asked stupidly, finding nothing else to say.
“Not yet. I turn eighteen in June,” she replied.
Half your age, he thought. Goodness, she’s half your age, you’re sick. You’re a sick old man and she’s reading Nabokov-
He fought down a hysterical laugh. There it was again, life’s fucked-up sense of humour that he was still learning to laugh about.
He wanted to say something, fill the hot air in the car, the ridiculously small space between them with a handful of meaningless words, but sadly he’d lost the thread of the conversation completely.
He turned the corner, rather inelegantly really (wherever had his driving skills gone to?), hit the second gear instead of the fourth. The motor gave an ear-splitting wail, Petyr swallowed a curse.
She was still looking at him, and his brain found nothing better to do than to imagine the feeling of her damp, thick hair between his fingers, his hand up her-
No. For fuck’s sake, you’re her teacher. Stopstopstopstopstop. You’d go to prison for that, stupid, brainless, pathetic idiot. Stop it.
When it had all started, he’d told himself he really needed a girlfriend.
By now, he was starting to think what he really needed was a good psychiatrist.
Why the bloody hell had he stopped in the first place? How could he have been stupid and masochistic and reckless enough to offer her a drive, how? Him of all people, Petyr the ever-careful, with all his plans and his schemes, Petyr who never did anything without a motive and a good reason?
Because this is your plan. Stop telling yourself you acted on impulse, you never do that, said a little voice in his head quietly, and somehow he felt a little calmer. That’s the spirit, keep telling yourself that. You’re not lost. You can take control back anytime you want.
Belatedly, he realised they’d left town. He almost never came this way, it wasn’t one of the main roads, it was narrow and led through the forest.
“Did I take the wrong turn somewhere?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly. When he cast her a questioning sideward glance, she blushed and added: “Well, we could’ve taken a different road, but I thought this was…” She broke off completely, her cheeks glowing. His hands were starting to sweat again. He liked this look on her far too much.
“Yes?” he said softly when she didn’t go on, his voice too low, too husky; Christ, was he really so obvious?
“…shorter,” she replied breathlessly, casting her eyes down. He flexed his cramped fingers and slowed down a little, trying to calm his breath. It wouldn’t work, though, and he had a feeling the delicious flush of her cheeks had something to do with it. Or the fact she had deliberately led them on a dark and lonely road…
“You’re a dreadful liar, Sansa.”
Something about what he’d said made her smile, and when he realised he’d called her by her first name, it was already too late.
“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip in a pointless attempt to wipe the smile off her face and he quickly forced his eyes back on the road, wondering if she could drive him any crazier if she was doing it deliberately.
Then again, he supposed to a certain extent it was deliberate.
“That’s a good thing, don’t be sorry,” he replied, staring stonily ahead.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her push a strand of red hair behind her ear. It had almost dried. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who… likes that.” Her little bird-like voice had something bold to it. Oh, he bet she felt daring now, the sweet innocent little thing…
“Likes what?”
“People who can’t lie.”
So that’s your image of me, darling, is it? Well, you’re even brighter than I thought.
He smiled a little. Fine, if she wanted to play games with him… his turn. “Don’t worry, I like you nonetheless.”
Given the effect she had on his body functions, that was the understatement of the year.
Despite the blush on her cheeks, she was trying to act like she’d expected to hear that. Her flirting clearly lacked practice, but, bloody hell, it served its purpose...
“Besides, as your teacher… I shouldn’t encourage you,” he paused for breath, “to lie, I think.”
They were in the forest now, where the rain couldn’t reach them, and suddenly the car was so painfully silent he could hear her quivering breath-
“It wouldn’t be right,” she replied softly, then added, with a strange look in her blue eyes: “But people don’t always want what’s right.”
There was nobody on the road, he hadn’t seen a car for ages. It felt like they were alone in the world.
“Do you?” He had a feeling neither of them was talking about dishonesty anymore.
She made a long pause and for a split second he hoped she would stop him. His restraint was faltering, and if she didn’t do something to bring him to terms, he didn’t know what might happen.
“I did once,” she finally said, looking him straight in the eye, and then added softly, sounding almost apologetic: “But I don’t think I still do.”
He was a mess. This was too much. Exhaling slowly, he pulled over, hit the brakes and shut the motor off. Nobody could expect him to drive in this state. He was only being responsible, really. There was another person in the car, and he was putting her in danger…
Well, that’s the most ridiculous excuse you’ve ever come up with.
“Listen, I’ll just assume I got you completely wrong and we’ll forget about this,” he said, but it came out so breathless and choked he couldn’t blame her for not buying it. And he was pretty sure that, innocent as she was, she knew that someone who rejected her wouldn’t stare at her the way he did.
“You didn’t get me wrong, though.”
“Sansa…” It was more of a groan than anything else and so his plea didn’t quite match his intentions… or maybe it did. He couldn’t think straight. His head was getting ahead of events in a lot of ways, and he was so tired of refusing her, and he couldn’t breathe-
“You mustn’t – I can’t,” he whispered, his voice without resolve. He had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded like an invitation. She just looked at him as if she’d been hypnotised, completely still, her breath going ragged. She looked fragile, beautiful, all wide blue eyes and full lips and she was so close, far too close, and Jesus, she was gorgeous, how was he supposed to resist-
The next thing he knew, there were silky, thick curls underneath his fingers, damp, cheap fabric and smooth skin; soft lips on his and slender fingers tangled in his hair.
Oh God, he was kissing his student. Or she was kissing him – was there even a difference?
His heart raced, both with panic and desire, he could feel the pulse all the way to his fingertips and throbbing somewhere in his throat. His hands wandered down her waist, up her knee – fucking hell, she’s your student, get your hands off-
She pulled him closer with shaking fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips, and fuck, he wanted her more than ever, more than anything-
But no. Not here, not like this.
He was nothing if not careful and it couldn’t exactly be called smart to fuck an underage girl from his history class in his car, in the middle of the night, on a lonely road somewhere in the forest. That sounded sick even to him.
Patience.
He pulled away gently, still caught in her blue eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, in shock, perhaps – she had just kissed her history teacher, he couldn’t blame her.
He took a long time to catch his breath, calm his nerves, get his head straight.
“Enough,” he murmured then, relieved his lying seemed to be up to his usual standards again.
“I didn’t have that impression,” she replied hoarsely, her eyes hazy.
Of course it wasn’t enough, I’m not bloody fourteen, I’m not out for kisses –
“Didn’t you, now.” He sighed and tightened his grip around her shoulder. “Look at me. Sansa. Listen.”
“I’m listening,” she replied softly, visibly shaken by the sudden edge his voice.
“You will tell no one. It’s better for you, sweetling. Nobody would believe you, and you’d be in an awful lot of trouble.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said sincerely. “Why would I?”
He raised a brow at her. “Well, I imagine it’s the kind of thing young girls tell each other.”
“Just because I can’t lie doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep a secret. I’m not stupid,” Sansa gave back, a faint trace of cheek in her voice this time. He liked that as well, as it turned out. Far too much. In an act of slight desperation, he rolled down his window slightly, hoping the cold October air would clear his head.
Taking a deep breath, he let go of her, started the motor again and continued down the road. It looked like he was back to clutching the steering wheel, then.
“I know you’re not stupid. I corrected your test today,” he replied without looking at her.
“Really? Will you tell me my grade?” There it was again, that hint of boldness in her soft voice.
“No, Miss Stark, I won’t. You’ll see it when you get the test back,” he gave back, hiding a smile.
“Shame. Next street to the left,” she instructed.
As soon as they’d left the forest, the rain drummed down on the windshield again and he hastily closed the window again. The air seemed to grow hotter again immediately, dense and sedating like a heavy perfume, and again, he felt like he wouldn’t survive another minute in this car anymore.
They entered a small housing estate, fancy, freshly painted houses. Yes, this was just how he’d imagined. This was exactly how he’d pictured Sansa’s life.
“Okay. You can stop here,” she muttered and he hit the brakes a little too abruptly. She had to think him a terrible driver.
“Well then. Good night, Miss Stark.” He didn’t dare to look at her for longer than a few seconds, not trusting his resolve enough for anything else. The air in the car was too warm and seemed to be sizzling with unstruck lighting. He wanted to reach out and pull her back, tear that cheap unflattering uniform off her slender body-
Stop it. Stop.
She threw him a sharp, pensive look out of her gorgeous blue eyes, then smiled and said, nearly back to her usual, almost meek tone: “Thank you for driving me. Sir.”
All he managed was a shaky smile in her direction.
It was almost relieving to have the car back to himself. He ran his hands over his face and took a few deep breaths.
Well, he’d got himself into a fine mess there. Jesus, he shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have, it was too risky, and besides, the frustration was tormenting him worse than ever.
Right. He needed to calm down now, he needed to drive back home, take a long, cold shower, and then he needed to make a plan. A foolproof, watertight, flawless plan.
After all, he wasn’t himself without his plans.