Summary: Working the streets wasn't what Sansa dreamed her future would consist of – yet many trials and misfortunes have led to desperate times, which meant taking desperate measures. But her life changed when she met Petyr Baelish – the new owner of the local brothel, bleeding Sansa dry of all her regulars. She is close to giving up until Petyr offers a position, as a professional sex worker – in exchange for secrets. Sansa feels he is her hero in disguise – but who will save her when it really matters- her regular client the Hound or her new infatuation Baelish?
A/N: Welcome to Little Nocturnal Bird! This is completely new territory as I have never written an M before! I thought that as Game of Thrones is for an older audience, this type of fic isn't a big deal. PLUS I was just plain curious at writing one – FYI this took a lot to post! XD Please let me know how I have done once you have read it.
Little Nocturnal Bird
Shivering in the cruel wind of the South's winter, Sansa pulled her thin raincoat around her body. Today was the coldest day of the year so far, but Sansa paid no mind to the temperature; things like that didn't matter when you had bills to pay and a boss to please. She could remember her livid voice playing in her mind, 'I want at least 100 tonight. No exceptions or you can find somewhere else to work.'
She took a deep breath, and untied her coat despite the freezing temperatures, in a bid to show her nearly bare body. She was wearing a pair of thin fishnet stockings, knee high boots and a short black dress leaving little to the imagination. Most nights were quiet in Sansa's zone, due to a new local brothel which was gaining popularity along with her usual clients, just round the corner. A daunting mountain of bills continued to increase, and they needed to be paid.
Sansa strutted a pose as a black Mercedes drove down the litter and gum-filled street, flicking her curled auburn hair over her shoulder as she tried to look the driver in the eye. Her tactic worked; the man braked smoothly as he looked her up and down, his eyes not leaving hers as he got out of the flashy vehicle and walked over to the back of the car. Sansa frowned slightly as he fluidly opened the door to reveal a small and slimy man; with so much gel in his greying hair it looked as crunchy as frost. His lips were curled into a smirk that made her feel uneasy, and his grey-green eyes travelled up her body, and somehow up her skimpy dress.
"You must be freezing, young lady. Please," He paused as he smiled, "be my company for the night."
Grateful for the first client in a few days, Sansa jumped into the car without a second thought. Her nose threatened to scrunch up as the stench of mint filled her nostrils, but she didn't want to upset the older man, who was staring over at her with eyes that gave nothing away.
"We should go somewhere more private." She spoke, her voice full of desire – something she had learned from the 2 years she had been working.
Her client lifted a brow, "You're well trained."
Sansa wanted to leap out of the car at that point, his sliminess contaminating her skin as if it was contagious. Yet the warmth the car provided, and the thought of going back to Chataya empty-handed kept her firmly in the heated leather seat.
His smirk returned, "And you are right. Driver, take us home."
Sansa felt the anxiety build inside her; I can't go to his house, it's the number one rule.
"Sir, I'm afraid I can't do that." She said, as confident as she could muster.
"Do you want the money or not?" He threatened, the car picking up speed as his driver sped round the corner.
She remained silent as the engine roared, her heart beating against her chest as the man gazed at her assets. Fear fizzed inside her stomach, as she realised what she was facing. Of course she'd had dodgy men, most of them were, but this man was different; he didn't look like her usual clients, who were either lonely old businessmen or young pissheads who wanted a quickie. None of her past clients even came close to this man, who often fingered the mockingbird cufflinks on his crisp white shirt, or twisted his rings round his stubby fingers. Every so often he would look at her in the corner of his eye, and Sansa couldn't detect whether it was lust or disgust – whatever it was, it made the woman uncomfortable.
Sansa tried to avert her gaze out of the blacked out windows, her eyes widening as she saw an elaborate drive and a vast Victorian house came into view. She was amazed yet saddened; she had never seen something so magnificent since her childhood, and that brought up memories that Sansa did not care to remember.
As they pulled up to the porch, the driver smoothly braked and stepped out to open the car door, leaving a sour taste in Sansa's mouth. They were there now – which meant only one thing. Grow the fuck up Sansa. You've been doing this for two fucking years.
The door opened swiftly, letting the bitter cold air into the car as the driver held out his hand. Sansa took it cautiously, finding the situation surreal and out of her comfort zone. Waiting patiently for her client to get out of the Mercedes, Sansa briskly took her flask of whisky out of her boot and swigged a mouthful, feeling the buzz and burn of the liquid in her throat. Surges of confidence filled her, and she felt ready for a hopefully quick fuck.
Her client walked her up the polished oak stairs, his stare leaving a burning hole in her head.
"My bedroom is the door at the end of the corridor. Please make yourself comfortable." He spoke smoothly, leaving her at the top of the stairs as he unlocked a door opposite her without another word.
Sansa felt like tiptoeing across the creaky floorboards as she walked to his bedroom, finding the candlelit corridor eerie to say the least. She eyed the peculiar paintings that were plastered among the walls, and took another swig from her flask for some more Dutch courage.
Gingerly, she opened the squeaking door and sat herself on the king-size bed, rubbing the red silky bedding between her cold fingers.
Sansa pulled her coat and slinky dress from her body, revealing a skimpy black bra, lacy underwear and fishnet stockings. Hearing her client walking along the corridor, she quickly grabbed a mint from his bedside table and chewed on it as she waited for him to enter.
His bedroom door whined as he pushed his way through, his eyes showing glimpses of lust as his gaze rested on her body. The man rarely paid mind to the looks of women, other than the ones who worked for him, but this woman made his manhood heat up with steaming arousal. Her pale and healthy skin looked inviting to touch, almost glowing from the moonlight that reflected off her supple body as she lay on her side, contrasting the red of the silk she laid on. She looked almost perfect, but Petyr Baelish did not want to give that away. Instead he smirked, and walked towards her, reaching out his hand to glide along her back.
"Please me tonight, and you will be rewarded."
Sansa slowly moved up onto her knees, making her the same height as her client, and leant over to purr in his ear, "You won't be disappointed Sir."
He returned the gesture, "Please…" he cupped her breasts, her nipples instantly hardening at the touch, "call me Petyr."
Sansa bit her lip as he undid the clasp of her bra, her breasts no longer constricted by the tight garment. Despite how slimy the man came across, she felt herself leaning into his touch, his rough hands rubbing her bare stomach and thighs. For the first time in two years, Sansa wanted the stimulation his touch offered, goose bumps rising on her skin as she become more aroused. She leant in and kissed his neck, beginning to unbutton his white shirt as she murmured his name into his skin. Her breath hitched as he pinched her hardened nipples, compelling her to speed up with his shirt as she wanted to touch more.
"Petyr…" She moaned as his tongue came into contact with her breasts, his hand moving down to her crotch. He flicked her sex and she did something no experienced prostitute should ever do – kiss her client on the mouth.
Her lips crashed against his, her heart pumping faster as they fought for dominance – passion engulfing the both of them. She slid her smooth hands down his hairy chest, down his abdomen until she found his crotch, feeling his pulsing erection under thin fabric. Seductively, she pulled away and bit her lip, gently pulling him down on the bed to join her aching body.
Sansa relished the tingles his hands offered, touching every sensitive area that she didn't know could offer her pleasure, despite spending two years in the same line of work. Yet Sansa didn't want to that this was just another job – she wanted Petyr to be a man, not her client. Petyr kissed the nape of her neck, feeling it tingle as he gently sucked her skin. Her eyes shut with bliss; she felt loved.
He had done it – Petyr smirked as he released his load, looking down at the exhausted figure below him, naked and somehow pure, even after everything she had done in her short life. She looked at peace for the first time in the weeks that Petyr had been spying on her, and it filled the man with smugness that he was the one to do it; he had her just where he wanted her.
Tantalizingly, he slowly pulled out of her, his erection already beginning to soften. He reached for the bedside table and picked up birth control tablets, throwing them onto the girls toned abdomen.
"Take one. I know you probably have your own, but I like to take my own precautions." Petyr smirked again, walking over to the door and taking his silk dressing gown from the hook.
She obliged, swallowing the tablet and taking a swig from her whisky flask to wash them down. Her hair was more tussled than ever, her thick lips stuck in a pout, and Petyr wanted nothing more than to take her again. Yet there was time for that; he knew she couldn't possibly decline his offer.
Petyr took a mint from the bowl on the table, sucking it as he spoke softly, "I was extremely impressed by your performance; it felt like I wasn't paying you for cheap sex. You made me feel that you wanted it. Well done."
Sansa looked away from his piercing gaze, feeling like a child who had been awarded a gold star in class. Well done? She thought sarcastically, I'm not a fucking kid.
He continued talking, using a finger to coax her face upwards to look at him. "I'd like to offer you a position at one of my brothels. I believe you'd be perfect."
Her heart stopped as she contemplated his offer, a feeling of pain froze her heart. She had somehow forgotten that she was his client; the sex they had felt like more than the fuck he was paying for – yet Sansa was used to disappointment.
She raised a brow, "So you're the new brothel owner?"
Petyr smiled haughtily, "Yes…a fine establishment. Very popular, I'm sure you know."
Sansa nodded, "so what would I be doing?"
"Fucking people…it's what you do now isn't it?" He rested his hand on her bare shoulder, "...except you'd be getting secrets out of them, not money. Maybe I should mention that."
"Secrets?" Her eyes widened. "What the fuck would I be getting out of that?"
"A job, inside where it is warm and comfortable. Food whenever you'd like it, constant company…everything you could possibly want. Working for me, will be far better than for Chataya."
Sansa stood up, "How do you know I work for her?"
"Sansa sweet, I know everything about you. Your past, your unfortunate siblings and how your poor father was killed…everything."
Shocked, Sansa gathered all of her clothes and began to get dressed. "The position I have now is perfectly fine, thank you Sir. Please may I have my money?"
Petyr grabbed her wrist, "I know all about your past Sansa Stark. You have little money, and you will have even less if you continue to work for Chataya. Do yourself a favour and work for me."
Her breath hitched in her throat- this was a trap and she should have known. He was testing how good she was at sex before offering her a job at his brothel…getting rid of the competition on the streets. She was just a pawn in his vile business, and there was little way of getting out of it.
She pulled away at his touch and continued to dress. She replied fiercely, "I will inform you of my decision tomorrow evening. However, I want the money I am owed."
He smirked, her demanding tone echoing in his mind. "Of course, but think carefully; I will not be making this offer twice." He reached into the pocket of his robe and handed her two fifty pound notes.
Sansa smiled coyly. "Thank you Sir. It was a pleasure to work with you."
A/N: Thank you for making it to end – it means a lot!
Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Just as a disclaimer, I am currently only half way through the 2nd book so most details will be based on what I know so far, the show or Game of Thrones wiki.
Also, updates will not be frequent as I like to take my time writing so it does not feel rushed and I re-read it frequently before posting, plus I have a lot of school work from college. Anyway, please follow if you liked it!
~HereGoesMyReputation