"Thrive"

Ship: Margaery/Sansa

Rating: M

In the brief moments Sansa could let her mind wander, Margaery was all she thought about. The taste of her mouth was the only thing that could crack the shell of Sansa's former self. She knew it was not something time could take away; though it had been a fortnight since Margaery let loose the then undiscovered yearning Sansa had for another's touch. It had also been a fortnight since Sansa could even meet Margaery's eyes.

Father always said that it was Arya who had the wolf's blood. Sansa mindlessly pushed the needle through the fabric forgetting the pattern she was making, the yarn feeling cumbersome on her fingers. But I feel it, too.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

Shae's voice startled her. "Of course. Why do you ask?" Sansa managed a smile, wondering if this were all a vivid dream that was still haunting her.

There was a small knock on the heavy oak door. Shae flashed Sansa a suspicious gaze. Sansa's fingers trembled slightly. Was it Joffrey or the queen coming to berate her or humiliate her? Was she invited to another painful and awkward dinner with the royal family? I am a Stark of Winterfell.

"Sansa?"

The soft familiar voice seemed to echo throughout the small room. Sansa felt her stomach leap into her throat. She stood up suddenly, eagerly nodding at Shae to answer the door. Sansa's hands shook, her lips parted as she beheld Margaery. She wore a dress similar to the one she wore when Sansa first met her. Yes, this is a dream.

Sansa could tell that Margaery did not expect Shae to be there. Margaery looked at Shae nervously.

"Lady Sansa." Margaery's eyes were wide, she bit her bottom lip. "May we speak in private?"

"Leave us." Shae looked taken aback. Perhaps I should have said that more kindly. "Please."

Sansa did not even notice Shae exiting the room until she saw her brush past Margaery. Margaery quickly entered the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Margaery. I'm sorry, I-" Before Sansa could finish her sentence, Margaery ran towards her, grabbed her by the shoulders and crashed their lips together. Forgetting to breathe properly, Sansa panted against Margaery's mouth between urgent kisses. Margaery let go of Sansa's shoulders and buried her hands in Sansa's auburn hair, pulling her body closer until Sansa felt Margaery's breasts against her own. She let out a sound she had never heard herself make before; a deep moan. Her body became hot and she felt faint, the room spinning. There was only Margaery and a primal need to satisfy the hunger intensifying with each breath, touch and kiss.

The wolf's blood. Sansa thought. She felt Margaery's mouth leave her own swollen lips. Margaery pressed her forehead against Sansa's, cupping her face in her hand as sweetly as their first encounter in the gardens.

"Oh, Sansa." Margaery whispered. Their noses touched and Sansa closed her eyes fighting back tears of fear and joy, and the fear of joy. "I'm not sure what to say."

"Don't say anything." Sansa echoed the simple words Margaery whispered to her in the gardens that put her so at ease; that gave her a feeling of a natural warmth and mutual kismet.

Margaery leaned back and smirked. She took Sansa's hand and slowly led her towards the bed behind them. Sansa's heartbeat quickened. What am I doing? I don't care. I am a Stark of Winterfell. She let her body collapse into the bed, helpless against Margaery's guiding hands. Margaery laid next to her, and Sansa let her eyes feast on the tantalizing body so near her own. Their lips met again, this time deeper and tender. Sansa felt her nipples harden and an ache between her thighs. She remembered secret whispers and giggles with Jeyne Poole about this very thing. Is this what happens on a wedding night? But how would two ladies...

Sansa felt outside of her own body looking down and seeing that she had somehow ended up in just her smallclothes. Her shaking hands were hurriedly making Margaery match her. She had never undressed a lady before, or even herself and she heard Margaery giggle. Margaery's hands grasped Sansa's stopping her from her awkward fumbling.

"It's alright." Margaery's voice dripped with lust. Her hands traveled carefully down Sansa's body, her fingers tracing patterns on the thin fabric over Sansa's breasts. Her delicate fingers found one of Sansa's erect nipples and teased it before trailing down to Sansa's core, lifting up the bottom of her smallclothes. There was nothing she had ever wanted more than Margaery to touch her, even down there. Their eyes met and Sansa could feel the hunger pouring from them. Margaery's hand found her destination. Sansa blushed, but let the wolf's blood take control of her. Margaery gasped as her hand discovered the wetness that had formed between Sansa's lower set of lips. Sansa whimpered despite herself.

"Do you want me to make it better?" Margaery asked. Sansa nodded.

Margaery's finger made circles on Sansa's swollen and sensitive nub. Sansa writhed beneath her, not being able to control the sounds leaving her throat. She rolled her hips in rhythm with Margaery's fingers. Margaery's mouth was inches from hers and Sansa could feel her labored breathing. Her finger sped up as Sansa became wetter.

"How does it feel?" Margaery asked.

"Don't stop." Sansa whispered, more soft moans rolling out of her, her body teaming with the wolf's blood. The sensation was almost unbearable and she felt herself becoming closer and closer to some sort of relief.

Sansa came within a minute later, the new pleasure clenching her inside and then releasing waves that went from her core all the way up through her body, her face flushing. Margaery sighed and kissed Sansa on the forehead. She removed her hand from Sansa and put her soaked fingers into her mouth. She closed her eyes clearing enjoying the taste.

"That was..." Sansa said. Margaery smiled.

"Yes. It was."

FIN.