This is set after Sansa's rape by Ramsay... After Stannis and his army were crushed by the Boltons. Only this time, Lord Baelish arrives just in time to save Sansa, after hearing the bad news.
But before they leave, he wants to do one last thing... He wants to bed the Stark in Winterfell. Yes, he had fantasised about taking her right here in her true home, many times before. His blood boiled with envy when he thought about what Ramsay had done to her. But not for much longer...
Sansa could feel the sense of urgency around Lord Baelish - no, Petyr - and she couldn't understand it. Sure, their situation was pretty dire, but he had always been able to remain strangely calm even in the worst circumstances. So now, Sansa wondered what had changed.
Now he was leading her by the hand - yes, she loved it when he did that, it was like she was his - over the stony walkways which mercifully were still somewhat deserted. Still, Sansa's hood was hiding her face in such a way that it was quite difficult to see. But she let Petyr guide her. He had always been so sweet to her, she trusted him - perhaps even though she knew she shouldn't - and she trusted him now as he rushed her to safety.
Finally, she felt the wind had stopped blowing around her. Under her feet a wooden floor creaked. She turned around and saw Lord Baelish push a heavy door shut, and relief washed over her as he put a key in the lock and turned it. No one would find them now, at least not for a while. She shivered in her cloak, the memory of the cold air still chilling her.
Petyr turned back to her and smiled in a satisfied way, his arms open as if to invite her into his embrace, or as if to celebrate this temporary triumph.
"My beautiful Sansa," he began, "I hope you are as relieved as I am that we are finally... Alone." They were close now, very close, and Sansa felt a flush entering her cheek as Baelish's power hungry yet intelligent eyes burned into her own. Her lower lip trembled with nervousness as she was about to speak.
"Yes my Lord. I am."
Petyr chuckled once to himself, then began to untie Sansa's cloak, slipping it gently from around her shoulders.
"My dear girl, what have I told you about my name? How you should always refer to me... Yet still, you insist on taunting me this way, time and time again." Sansa shuddered, sensing his carefully controlled exterior of calm slipping away before her, revealing something much more… Fiery. All just because she had failed to use his first name again. But for some reason… she kind of liked it.
When her cloak was off, Sansa stretched and she found herself collapsing on the large warm bed behind her. She was cold, she was afraid, but somehow, Lord Baelish's words had filled her limbs with this fire and she couldn't stop herself from giving him a sly smirk.
"Then perhaps... You should teach me the right way, my lord..."
She blinked away the seductive look in her eyes suddenly - what was she doing? All this excitement, all this adrenaline that was rushing through her veins... It was making her do things, think things she never thought she would.
Was that a growl she just heard escape Lord Baelish's throat? Her pulse quickened in response.
His eyes burned still, brighter than ever before as he unfastened his own cloak, and the coat that lay beneath that, and... Sansa didn't know how far this was going to go. One thing was clear though - she had pushed Baelish, teased him, tempted him, and now she was going to regret it. Or... Not? A fire had ignited in her body, one she'd never experienced in this way before.
Her mind flashed back to her wedding night, when Ramsay had taken her, and she had been ripped out of her serene, defeated state into something all consuming, something rough and primal. She had hated it when she was not in the mood for it, but now... It was almost as though she craved that, from the man standing before her. The man who had used his wits and cunning to protect her for so long. The man who surprised her time and time again. It was almost as though she wanted to be devoured, to be ravished, to be made totally his in this moment... And it was almost as though, in this moment, he wanted the same thing too.
Before Sansa had properly wrapped her head around the idea, Baelish was on the bed next to her, busily unbuttoning his shirt.
"What am I going to do next, Sansa, can you tell?" His words rolled off his tongue with increasing ease as the lust took over him more and more, and he caressed her face with his free hand lovingly. "I've been a good teacher to you. I've taught you all about how to anticipate a person's next move, and you have been such a good student, I'm sure you can tell..."
"You're going to… Um…" Sansa stammered. While the lust made Petyr an even more eloquent speaker than usual, it seemed to be having the opposite effect on her. Her mind couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone string together an adequate sentence.
"What am I going to do to you, Sansa?" He inquired again, and suddenly his hand was clasped around her jaw, forcing her to look at him and focus. "Tell me."
"You're going to… finish taking off your clothes. And – and mine." Sansa stammered eventually. Petyr raised one eyebrow.
"And then…?"
"And then… You're going to lose control." The tension in Petyr's shoulders released at last. He was pleased with her answer. He resumed the process of undressing.
"See? It's really not that complicated in the end." Oh, goodness… He was starting to touch her now, starting to fondle her dress, starting to calculate how he could get her out of it as quickly as possible. "Once you've found that one weakness, all the other cracks in a person's psyche start to show themselves to the observant…." Sansa listened, enthralled by his voice. "And then it's only a matter of time before" - Sansa gasped as she felt his nimble fingers working on the ties on the back of her dress -"before their entire tangled mess of a personality… unravels."
At that, her dress slipped completely off her bare skin. Petyr had worked more quickly and efficiently than any servant she'd ever had undressing her before, and he hadn't even been fully watching what he was doing in that time. He had simply felt his way around the task, and it had worked brilliantly. Sansa shivered at this thought, and at the cold that was quickly wrapping itself around her nakedness.
Lord Baelish's eyes lapped up this sight before him. Her skin glowed like a semi-precious stone and this was certainly a fine reward for all his efforts at undressing her. Her clear blue eyes were like those of a goddess of seduction, beckoning him forward and he could not resist her unspoken cry to be worshipped any longer…
So, that's all for now! Unless people tell me they want more, in which case I'll continue… I don't want to write any really smutty parts unless I'm sure they're wanted *blushes* so let me know what you thought, I'd appreciate it!