Afternoon Picnic
By Myriddin
Because we all need some happy!Sansa. Inspired by a prompt from the lovely ladysaruka.
It was difficult to find time to spare when it came to the day-to-day demands of running a castle, especially one in the middle of reconstruction. The central keep had been restored before the worst of winter had set in, but now that spring and then summer had arrived, it was time to return Winterfell to her former glory.
Mid-afternoon, when the sun was at its highest and the laborers recessed out of necessity, when Rickon was finally wrangled into lessons with the maester, was the only time they ever truly found themselves alone.
It always started the same. Some time during the morning, they would cross paths and their eyes would meet. Subtle smiles, the simplest of gestures, and plans were made.
Their meeting place was an isolated spot in the godswood. In the shade of a massive ancient tree, the mess of thick, gnarled roots at the base opened on a short slope, revealing a recess in the earth. A soft layer of moss and grass had since grown in, blanketing the bowl of the small niche. There, they could feel safe and sheltered in their moments of intimacy and vulnerability.
This day, his artful fingers and talented mouth were at work at the apex of her thighs. He brought her to her peak, once, twice, three times before she could take no more.
"You're a wicked, wicked…" she trailed off and sighed, "Wonderful man." Her lethargic languor was so strong she could do little more than speak, not bothering to open her eyes.
He smirked, turning his head to press a kiss to her thigh. He wrapped his arms around her waist, scooting up to pillow his head against her stomach. He sighed contently as she brought a hand up to stroke his hair, a soft smile curving her lips as she watched his face go slack with relief and peace at the touch. "You realize we've completely missed the point of a picnic, my love."
"Did we? I think I had quite the feast set out before me."
Her face flushed as red as her hair and he chuckled. "It's sad I can't tell Cook that you chose me first over her lemoncakes. I think that's the highest compliment I've ever received."
Sansa huffed, swatting at his shoulder, and reached over to begin unwrapping the food they had brought with them. With each revelation- soft-boiled eggs, cold chicken, fresh bread and blackberry preserves, she had more and more of Jon's attention. "And I suppose you're not hungry at all?"
A loud growling from Jon's middle answered the question.
The lemoncakes were eventually devoured as well, though how their frosting ended up smeared across Jon's chest, neither truly knew. And what better way to have it cleaned up, than Sansa licking a teasing swathe down his torso?