Title: Just Like a Prayer
Author: DeepBlueQL
Summary: "Gentle, pious Willas." Arya finds her sister and her new good-brother utterly boring. Until she discovers what exactly it is the newlyweds are doing when they say they're in the sept "praying."
Rating: R/M
Pairing/characters: Sansa/Willas, Arya/Gendry
Word Count: 1511
Spoilers: None really, aside from the fact that these characters paths cross (indirectly or directly) at some point.
Notes: In response to an ASoIaF kinkmeme on lj.
Warnings: Sexy times ahead.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Arya pitied her sister, really. The lord and lady of Highgarden made a comely pair, to be sure. Willas was handsome enough to match Sansa, no small feat, and he accomplished it without pretension or ostentation. Even Arya could appreciate his striking Tyrell features, his wavy brown locks, worn shorter than either of his brothers' and just a shade darker, a sign of his time spent inside studying. He shared his brown eyes with his sister, but where hers were beguiling and shrewd, his were warm and contemplative. And her sister and husband were clearly adored by the small folk for their thoughtful actions and kind natures. Arya knew theirs was a good match and that Sansa was content.

However, Arya could not help but find everything about the two of them utterly and completely boring.

Her own marriage to Gendry was filled with arguments and kisses and passion and laughter. She thought of the times they coupled, hot and sweaty, against the wall of his forge. Or even as recently as on the road to Highgarden, when they snuck away from the caravan to a small glen and Gendry took her hard and furiously on a bed of moss, claiming she had been driving him to distraction all day with the way she bounced on the seat of her steed.

In Highgarden, Arya saw the demure smiles of her sister and the courteous nods of her good-brother. Had there ever been a more polite pair? There was no heat, no excitement, and it seemed like absolutely no fun.

Yes, Arya truly pitied her sister.

Arya had just finished her midday meal when Willas rose from the table and pushed in his seat.

"A lovely meal. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I am heading to the sept for my daily observances. My lady, would you care to join me?" Willas inquired, a hand extended to his wife.

"Of course, my lord," said Sansa, her tone so dutiful Arya's nose crinkled.

In their hosts' absence, the Winterfell party was free to do what they liked with their afternoon. Gendry went to visit with the armorer, while Rickon and Arya decided to head to the yard and test the mettle of Highgarden guards.

Arya had just defeated some cocksure lad two years younger than her and almost two feet taller.

"I yield, my lady; I yield," he said, with heavy guffaws. His laughter improved Arya's opinion of the youth greatly.

Sheathing the dulled sparring sword, all the guards had been too afraid to use real steel with a lady despite her protests, Arya saw Gendry running up.

"Arya, I described to the smith the design of Needle and how it was inspired by Braavosi styles. He was interested in seeing it. Do you think you could fetch it?"

Arya assented and as she made to leave, Gendry wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple, much to the hooting of the guards. Arya huffed and threw his arm off, but walked off smiling.

Inside, she passed through the stately corridors of Highgarden and neared the sept on her way to her own chambers. The low murmur of voices let Arya know Sansa and Willas were still inside.

Arya recalled the words of an attendant the day before.

"The lord never neglects his prayers and always devotes at least an hour in the sept everyday. Since taking a wife, the lord has only become more devout. Lord Willas and Lady Sansa have instructed us never to disturb their time in the sept. Their piety is why Highgarden is so blessed."

Gods, Arya thought, how boring.

But as she neared the doors to the sept, she heard a distinctly unpious sound: a breathy moan answered by a dark chuckle.

Curious, Arya crept closer to the door, her footsteps sure and silent, just as they had been years ago when she lived in Braavos. The door was slightly ajar and Arya inched it open just a bit more so she could peer inside.

The sight that greeted her was wholly unexpected.

Sansa was laid out on the stone floor in the center of the sept. Light rained down from the entirely glass ceiling, making the hair spread about her look like riotous waves of flame. Willas laid next to her on his side, his head up and his eyes staring fixedly at his wife.

Sansa's gown was hiked up over one hip and Willas' hand was firmly placed underneath her smallclothes. Arya could make out the frantic movements of his fingers, even beneath the fabric.

Willas' other hand pulled down the neckline of the dress and revealed a pert breast, one Arya ruefully recognized as quite a bit larger than her own. His head descended and Arya guessed from Sansa's sharp gasp that Willas had taken her nipple into his teeth.

"Do you like that, my love? You seem to. You're so warm and wet down here. Gods, it feels like my fingers could fucking melt," Willas murmured, his mouth never leaving her body.

Arya's sharp ears could hear every quiet word, and she felt herself start to get quite warm.

"Do you have any idea how you look right now, Sansa? Splayed out like this in the sept, legs spread like a wanton and that pretty blush on your cheeks and breasts. You almost match your hair. My beautiful little wife. The light makes your skin glow."

Here, Arya could see Willas thrust his clothed hips against Sansa unthinkingly, as if trying to relieve the pressure.

Sansa blushed deeper. "Sometimes I feel like they're watching me, the Seven," she said breathlessly.

Willas lifted his head, and even from the door, Arya could see his smirk.

"They are, but let them watch. They gave you to me; let them bear witness to all the ways I enjoy their gift," he said softly into her ear.

At those words, Willas' fingers sped up and Sansa began to tremble, obviously reaching her peak as soft whimpers fell from her opened mouth. Willas took her lips in a plundering kiss before any louder cries could escape.

Recovering, Sansa sat up, her blue eyes alight. She pushed her husband down so he was the one laying flat and moved to straddle him. Sansa's back faced the door and her dress had fallen back down, obscuring everything. From the movement of her arms, Arya could tell Sansa was fumbling with the ties to Willas' breeches.

Apparently succeeding in extracting her husband, Sansa rose slightly on her knees and from Willas' tortured groan, she knew the exact moment Sansa sank down onto her husband's cock.

A fervent pace was set, Sansa practically bouncing on his lap, and his incoherent moans transformed into a simple litany. "SansaSansaSansaSansa." It sounded like a prayer. Willas' hands rested at her hips for only a moment, before trailing up her body and coming to cup her breasts. Sansa leaned her head back and moaned, her hair falling behind her like a cascade of auburn.

Sansa began to move even faster, and Arya could tell that she had begun rolling her hips beneath her dress. Willas' broken moans revealed how close he was to his own peak.

A moment later his hand went to the back of her neck and he pulled her down in a crushing kiss. His own hips stuttered off the floor and he plunged deeply into Sansa, once, twice, three times and wrenching his lips away, he bit into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and muffled the groan of his release.

Arya leaned a little too hard into the door and it opened a bit more, creaking as it did. The pair paid no heed, but Arya was startled by the noise and realized what she was doing. She hastily backed away from the entrance to the sept and briskly escaped the intimate scene.

Reaching her room, Arya threw the door closed behind her, startling Gendry who had been looking through her portmanteau.

"Arya? Where have you been? I thought you were going to be right back," he inquired.

Arya took a fevered glance at Gendry and rushed to him, claiming his lips in a scorching and desperate kiss.

"Arya, what's gotten into –"

Arya threw him on the bed, and though his eyes were wide with surprise, he closed his mouth firmly. He was smarter than to question whatever propitious fate had led to this tantalizing situation.

A few hours later, everyone assembled into the dining room again for supper. Arya could not quite meet her sister's eyes, but noticed that she had changed into a gown with a high neck. Arya's own dress had long sleeves to hide the bruises Gendry had left on her wrists.

Arya watched as her sister sat down and Willas helped her move in her seat, his hand lightly trailing through the ends of her hair. Sansa sent him a soft but warm glance and he smiled at her.

Arya was almost jealous of her sister.

A.N.: Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought. (I hope you enjoyed it.)

Arya/Gendry are my OTP and I'm working on a longer story with the two of them featuring much more heavily if anyone's interested. I'm not super accustomed to writing smut, so I'm sorry if anyone was disappointed. Willas Tyrell is like the most amazing character that hasn't yet come into the books. He and Sansa are my head cannon. We need a Willas tag on FFN!