Night at the Eyrie
~°~.o.~°~
That night, Alayne found no sleep. She lay in her bed tossing restlessly and finally went up and put on her clothes again. She slipped out of her room and went in search for him. Petyr Baelish was still awake when she knocked timidly on his door.
He smiled as she entered.
"Alayne, my sweet. Is anything amiss?" She shook her head and came closer to the table.
He was writing still, writing even at this hour of the night. Writing and sealing letters and making plots to keep them both alive, strangers as they were here, in the Eyrie high above the Vale.
"Have you ever lost in the Game?" she asked.
"I wouldn't be here if I had", Petyr answered with a smirk she had got to know. But his eyes were soft in the candlelight.
"Do not fear, my sweet daughter", he said with a voice so soft and full of affection that Alayne felt something blooming deep down in her chest. "No one will come close enough to harm you."
She knew not to believe his words, but still she felt relieved to hear them.
"I trust you with my life", she said, smiling. Something in his eyes told her that the reply had been exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Come and give your father a kiss goodnight", he said.
Alayne, always the dutiful daughter, went around the heavy oaken desk and bent to kiss him. Even sitting his head was near as high as hers and he turned around in his seat to face her. Only the moment before her lips touched his cheek, she hesitated briefly.
She did not know why she had, afterwards, but she did, and he used that moment to slightly turn his head and press his lips on hers. They were soft, his lips, soft and warm and very much inviting.
His little beard hardly scratched her, and where it did it was a pleasant feeling. Alayne knew she ought to withdraw, but she found she liked his warmth too much to resist him. And nobody could see, nobody would know.
He kissed her again, much like he had kissed her that day out in the yard between the icy walls of her little Winterfell. Warmth spread through her chest and she felt her own lips moving, responding to him.
That was when his arms encircled her, gently and without any sign of force. She let herself be pulled closer towards him and felt her pulse quicken. It was such a good feeling.
He smelled of sweet wine and mint and candle wax and of something more, something that told her he was a man, and she a woman. Then his lips parted and she could feel his tongue against her mouth. His sweet tongue which sung so many lies and told so many secrets.
She trembled in his arms, but she made no protest. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer to his body.
Kissing him was the sweetest thing she had ever known, it filled her body with life and her head with a strange, light feeling that made her breathless. They both grew breathless after a while, but it seemed he could stop no more than she could.
His hands moved up and down her back, up and down again like the softest of iron. Then over to her sides, up and down in a soothing stroke, and every time his thumbs would brush over the edges of her breasts, ever so softly. Sansa shuddered.
On and on her tongue danced with his, and against his, and as she felt light-headed, the blood was pulsing stronger between her tights. She could not have said how much time had passed, but it must have been quite a while.
Then, without warning, Petyr broke the kiss and pressed her to his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around her. Alayne found that she could not move, but she didn't mind. She felt like in a sweet dream, only more intense than any dream she knew.
"My sweet daughter", he whispered. "Do you feel lonely sometimes?"
"Yes", Alayne replied and felt sudden tears sting in her eyes. She forced them down. "Yes, I feel lonely here. I could not sleep tonight."
"I have felt lonely for a very long time myself", he replied. His voice was but a whisper. Alaynes head was pressed against him, his chin close to her forehead. With every word, his warm breath washed over her face.
She felt herself raising her head slightly. She wished she could see him now. But she saw only his lips moving.
"You ought to sleep, my sweetling", he murmured. But even as he spoke, he drew slow circles on her back and his grip released not an inch.
"I will go if it please my father", Alayne heard herself reply. She knew it was naught but a flowery phrase. She did not want to go. Instead, she slowly lifted her head until his mouth was close enough to feel his breath against her lips. Petyr sighted wistfully.
"Oh, it would not please me, be assured." He lowered his head ever so slightly. Breathless, Alayne opened her lips, hoping, yearning for more.
"Good Gods, daughter", Petyr breathed. She felt every word against her mouth, but there was still an inch between them. Without thinking, Alayne stretched out, reaching towards him. Close...so close.
She moved her tongue out and he did the same, at the very same moment. She had her eyes closed and so it came as a shock, a sudden and sweet shock as their tongues met again. An unarticulated sound cached in her throat as she felt him against her. More, she thought. And he gave her more.
She did not know, afterwards, what had made her yearning stronger: His lips and tongue on hers, or his fingers, stroking softly over her back and brushing the sides of her breasts, ever so slightly, again and again and again until she thought she would burst if he did not touch them for real, but she dared not say so and he kept going and going.
Alayne could feel her nipples harden hours, even days afterwards whenever she thought back. During those sweet moments where he had kissed her and given her pleasure, her nipples had been poking hard through her nightgown and she was sure he had felt it too.
When finally he broke the kiss again, Alayne felt a hot, slick wetness all over her smallclothes and even between her tights, and thought she had wet herself. She rose abruptly and bowed low to hide the fierce blush on her face.
"I think it is time you go to sleep", Petyr said and at the tone of his voice Alayne was sure that he smiled. Relieved, she straightened herself and as she met his eyes, she gulped.
"Yes, my father is most kind to... to comfort me at such an hour", she whispered. There was a glint in his eyes at her words that both scared and aroused her.
"I am always here to comfort you, my sweet Alayne", he murmured. "Whenever you need me." He took her arm then, and escorted her to the door. Before he opened it, tough, he looked down on her again and smiled.
"Sweet dreams", he said, softly. He was very close again, and maybe that was the reason, or the late hour, or what she had felt of him only moments ago, for suddenly a boldness seized her and Alayne smiled back to her father.
"To you too, father. It is good to have you, I do love you so." She stepped on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his lips before he could make a sound.
For one second, he could not react and Alayne relished in the feeling of his lips again, and his obvious surprise. Then his arms were around her like iron and he spun her around as he kissed her back with a fervour she had not known, nor anticipated.
Alayne gasped, but he would not let her go. She could feel the hard stone wall at her back and Petyr was all in front, his body everywhere, his arms on her hips and his mouth hungry against hers.
Alayne felt the blood rush through her veins and she grabbed hold of his shoulders or else she would have fallen.
It was dark, and very much forbidden, and she loved it more every second. He did not let go of her until finally she gasped for air. He was breathing heavy and his eyes were dark as coals as he looked at her. He looked hungry.
"Go", he commanded in a rough voice.
Alayne smiled against her will, a timid smile, but a pleased one nonetheless. Her cheeks were a deep red and her hair was tousled.
"If it please my father", she whispered and fled out of the door.
Minutes later, as she lay in her bed in the dark again, she was still breathless. Her fingers found her hard nipples and she squeezed them, as she had yearned for the whole time. A little moan escaped her lips as she did, and she did it again.
Then her right hand wandered lower between her tights and she found that the wetness was something different, new and sweet and delicious to her touch. Sansa closed her eyes and let the last hour pass through her mind again.
Soon her fingers were busy rubbing herself, clumsily at first, but more quickly every minute. Her heated flesh responded to her every touch and between little gasps and moans she found more and more of what she had only briefly tasted before.
She pressed harder, her legs tangled and her body hidden under the blankets. She felt herself stretch and reach and her body began shaking from exhaustion, but she paid it no mind.
She felt nothing but the trail she had discovered and she followed it on and on and on, rubbing herself again and again until her hand started to feel sore and numb, but still she pressed on and on.
As soon as she knew what she had to do her thoughts left her own body and returned to another, to the tall lean man that had held and kissed her only minutes ago.
She felt and smelled and tasted him still on herself and now she imagined it were his fingers that stroked her, low down between her tights, his strong and skilled fingers, stroking her, pressing against her core, rubbing up and down and again and on and on and on...
Sansa stifled a moan as she arched her back high up and started to shudder. The climax came slowly on her first, but it took her body stronger and stronger until her arms and legs shaked and even her toes curled inwards in pure pleasure.
It was more than she could take and Sansa cried out softly. When finally she sank back into her cushions, hot wetness flowed down her tights and into her mattress.
She was past caring. As soon as she found air to breathe, her hands were between her tights again, stroking and working about eagerly.