Prompt- Two best friends hop into the back of the wrong car thinking it's an Uber. They refuse to leave until they are taken to their destination.
The driver is not amused and the girls seem like more hassle then they're worth but he could use the money. After all what could possibly go wrong?
I own nothing. Take it or leave it J
"AND HE LICKED THE HONEYYYY BETWEEN HER HAIRRRRR!"
Margaery yanks Sansa along the pavement, arms twined together like two beautiful peas in the same pod, and she can't help but burst into giggles when Sansa dives into the chorus once more for another go.
Or, what Sansa can remember of the chorus. A bottle of wine each has left both with a rather… limited idea of what the song in its entirety consists of.
Which is why, a few heartbeats later, the pavement is ringing with them both belting "BETWEEN HER HAIRRRR" as loud as their pretty little lungs will allow them.
Margaery punches in the Uber request in the app on her cell phone as Sansa dissolves into giggles at the stares and amused glances the other pedestrians are throwing them. "Okay San, we've got fifteen to twenty to kill. What are we going to do until then?" Not even one single slurred word. Maybe they aren't too drunk after all!
Sansa takes one look around before a devilish grin lights up and she drags Margaery across the street, ignoring the honks and screams of startled drivers.
A bar.
Sansa is dragging them to a bar, and as they order a round of shots is asking the bartender why, precisely, the maiden put honey in her hair to begin with.
As Margaery opens up to intervene and he lewdly leans over the counter and offers to show her, the ping on her cell phone announces the Uber is almost outside.
Saved by the fucking bell, indeed.
"Get out of the fucking way!" He slams his hands on the steering wheel as he hits the brakes hard and skids to stop feet from the drunk twenty-something's ambling across the road in the direction of, gods help him, yet another bar. As he considers getting out and demanding he hail them a taxi immediately, a bright flash of auburn catches his eye.
Oh, gods.
One drunken twenty-something is none other than Sansa fucking Stark.
What is he supposed to do now? He can't just leave his business partner's daughter and that bloody Tyrell girl (of course it's her, it is always her when there is a scandal isn't it) out here in the street where any gossip columnist or photographer or worse can find them.
Slamming on the brakes, he whips the car around and circles the block before pulling up right outside the bar the two lovely ladies are now stumbling out of. As he debates whether he should roll the window down or just put it in park and approach them, the oddest thing happens next.
Without even a by your leave, the Tyrell wench swings open the back door to his Audi, and shoves Sansa inside.
Sansa is positively beaming when Margaery flops in next to her, hooking their arms as she pushes forward and shouts the address to the Uber driver. It isn't until she meets his startled, very alarmed, blinking gaze in the rear view mirror that she gasps in shock and grips Margaery's arm tight.
"Stannis! What in the gods are you doing driving an Uber?!"
He blinks so many times she worries he might have some sort of condition, and she shifts forward to huddle with Marge between the seats and pats him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Oh, Stannis. Don't you worry, we'll get that checked out next time you come into Dr. Bolton's office. I'll set up your appointment in the morning and will email you the details."
Margaery is leaning way over the seat rummaging through the compartments, the curve of her arse up in the air and long blond curls tossed over one shoulder. "Oh, Stannis! Grandmother said the divorce with Selyse was quite drawn out. We are truly sorry to hear you've fallen on hard times. Don't worry, we'll set you up with a real nice tip when you drop us off," she simpers, collapsing back into the back seat and triumphantly waving the package of Oreos she'd found.
"I- my- eyes- but- what?!"
The poor dear. Sansa thinks he truly looks a sight when he can't stop blinking and his face puffs up while his cheeks and neck turn red. "Since we're tipping you well, you won't mind if we nibble on these cookies, do you, Stannis?"
"Oh, Sansa, of course he doesn't mind! Stannis, you're such a darling! Start the car now, Stannis. People are starting to stare you know, we wouldn't want a scene!"
"My, and I'm sure you don't exactly want it spread around town that you've had to take up menial labor to fund your divorce! That wouldn't do at all!"
"No, it wouldn't," Margaery agrees. "But don't you worry darling, we can keep a secret! Sansa won't tell a soul, and neither will I! Come now, stop that blustering and start the car!"
"I do not drive an Uber," they hear him mumble, as the car hums to life and he pulls out into traffic.
"Oh, but of course, darling. You do not drive an Uber. No, you just happened to come across us and offered us a ride home," Sansa chimes in, grinning at how clever she is for coming up with a plausible excuse right on the spot.
"And we will tip you well for it, dearest!" Margaery tucks her head into Sansa's shoulder and whispers "poor little thing, how embarrassing for him," as he cranks up the radio and speeds down the freeway towards Sansa's apartment.
He sees it all from the frantic glances he shoots back in the mirror. Sees it start and sees it encouraged and gods help him if they don't tempt him to climb on back there and finish it.
He sees Margaery feed Sansa an Oreo by hand; sees the way Sansa's lips linger and her tongue darts out to swipe up the crumbs.
He sees Margaery's palm slide casually up from Sansa's knee to middle thigh, grazing just slightly the sensitive inner skin.
He sees Sansa's pupils dilate and her breathing slow as she starts to pant. He sees the glint in Margaery's eyes as they swipe from Sansa's blood red lips to the cleavage heaving on full display.
He sees the moment when they both realize what is happening. He sees the moment when they both realize they don't care.
He is hard as a fucking rock by the time he sees their first kiss; tentative and slow as their lips softly press. It is Sansa who deepens it, hanging on to Margaery's lip a bit before chasing her back and twining purple painted fingertips through those long blonde locks as she yanks her back.
He's got one hand rubbing the bulge in his trousers, one hand on the steering wheel; one eye on the mirror and one eye on the road; and Sansa's got a fist in Margaery's hair and fingers clamped on her waist as Margaery kneads Sansa's inner thigh and tickles along her neck.
Sansa's head is spinning and she's awash in sensation as Margaery's hand creeps up her thigh. Her eyes are closed and her lips are burning and she's not sure where she begins and Margaery ends, as they hold on tight and lose themselves in all those times of temptation they'd both ignored before. It is a groan from the front seat that snaps her back to attention, and Margaery giggles and bites her lip and makes her sigh as they both face a red faced Stannis in the rearview mirror.
"Sansa," Margaery purrs in her ear, "what do you say to giving our dear Stannis a bit of a show, darling?"
Sansa's cheeks are pink and her eyes are hazy and all she knows is that she aches, and when she feels a gush of wetness dampen the top of her lace thong she knows she'll do whatever she has to so that she has some relief. She licks her lips and meets Stannis' hungry gaze in the mirror as she nods and smiles slow. "Okay."
She can hear Margaery hum as she shifts their positions in the back seat, sliding to the side and hiking up the bottom of Sansa's shift dress. She feels the air kiss her heated skin and she bites back a whine when Margaery's palm slides across the goose bumps, flesh to flesh, teasing and kneading once more. She knows she's positively dripping, can feel it seeping out and soaking the seat below, but based on Stannis' rapt gaze and the fact that he's pulling off down a dirt road, she doesn't think he minds at all.
Her eyes flutter shut when Margaery kisses along her neck, and she moans so loud she's blushing crimson when Margaery's fingertips dance along the slip of lace, lightly pressing in around her clit.
She aches and throbs with need while Margaery plays, kissing down the tops of her breasts, fingertips dancing along the tops of her thighs, and she bites back a moan of impatience as Stannis puts the car in park. She hears the slide of a zipper, the shuffle of pants, and then a stunted grunt as he takes himself in hand and watches through the mirror as Margaery teases along the edges of the lace.
"Margaery, please," she cries, dizzy with frustration, but Margaery only giggles as she kisses back up her neck and finally tugs the lace down her legs and pushes it off her heel-clad feet and onto the floor.
Sansa wantonly spreads her legs open as wide as they can go, moaning at the sounds Stannis makes from the front seat, before she bites her lip with a whine as Margaery's fingertips finally graze the wetness on her outer lips. She bucks and sighs when she circles her clit, and she's panting hard and moaning loud as she grinds down on Margaery's hand and chases her pleasure.
She's close, so close, but it's just not enough, not even when Margaery's second hand travels down from pinching her nipples to play, thrusting two, then three, fingers inside of her. It's just not enough, as Margaery sucks on her neck and tugs on her clit and curls her fingers inside her just right. It's just not enough, and she cries out and tells her so with frustration, and Margaery huffs with impatience before a decidedly delicious suggestion rumbles from the front seat.
"Perhaps I might be of assistance?"
Sansa has barely moaned "yes, please, Stannis," before he's climbing over between the seats, pants and boxers around his ankles, and ordering and maneuvering them about. He slides Margaery in behind Sansa, yanks her dress up high, and has Sansa bend her arm behind her and stick her fingers up in the air.
It doesn't even take Margaery a second before she slides down on them and rides Sansa's hand like there's no tomorrow, while Stannis takes a good long look at the glistening pink flesh soaked between Sansa's thighs. He watches as Margaery's hand comes around, sliding across her waist and dipping low to start to tease once more along Sansa's clit. He can see her clench, can smell her need, and can practically taste it on the tip of his tongue.
He needs to taste it on the tip of his tongue.
He leans down quick for a nice long lick, and is rewarded with two shuddering moans of pleasure, as Sansa bucks for more and curls her fingers just right in pleasure, pushing Margaery closer to the edge.
He takes himself in hand, takes in the scene before him, and pumps himself a few times for good measure as he watches Margaery circle Sansa's clit and Sansa fuck Margaery with three curved little fingers. When he feels greedy hands pulling him forward he lines himself up just right, and thrusts hard into the beautiful woman beneath him.
She clenches around him like a fist, rakes her free hand through his hair and spurs him on as he fucks her hard and fast, his eyes rolling back in his head at how wet and tight and hot her cunt is squeezing around his cock. A few more thrusts and she's coming so loud and so hard she squeezes down on him like a vise. A few beats more and Margaery is coming behind her, shuddering and panting and collapsing on Sansa's shoulder. A few beats after that he pulls out just in time to spill his seed with a groan on four creamy white thighs.
They are a tangle of limbs and a pile of sated sighs when he swings back over into the driver's seat and starts up the car. He silently takes them home, as they cuddle close and help each other with some attempt at putting themselves back together.
As he pulls up in front of the townhouse, he isn't really sure what he expects, but it certainly isn't what occurs.
He gets a kiss on each cheek, and a note in his palm, as the temptresses slide out of the back of his forever ruined Audi and slowly strut into the house, arm in arm, giggling and not sparing him a backwards glance.
He waits until he's all the way home, pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey, before he finally opens the note.
Let's do this again. Nine o'clock tomorrow night. Sansa's apartment.
Below, there are two lipstick kisses: one red, one pink.