Cersei was doing it on purpose.
After seeing her corset in the backseat, after watching Sansa protect her from scathing remarks, after seeing those hectic splashes of red on her high cheekbones that seemed to read: I am Drunk, Someone Please Look After Me/Take Advantage of Me, Cersei simply couldn't resist.
She bit her lip as if in deliberation when nearing the turn off, saw Sansa's eyes follow the movement. Everything about tonight had confirmed in her head that whatever this relationship was between them, there was tension. Tension that was about to be relieved, if Cersei had anything to do with it.
They arrived in the driveway and Cersei turned the car off, not moving from her seat. Sansa seemed content to follow suit, and Cersei made sure she was waiting, she was absolutely still, her breathing was the only noise in the car, and then she carefully cleared her throat.
"Wait here, I'll open your door for you." She instructed, meaning for it to come out as a statement rather than an order but failing miserably. Sansa's only reply was a slight nod.
Cersei stepped out of the driver's seat, blissfully sober as she neared the passenger's side door and opened it slightly, watching as Sansa wobbled to her feet.
Unwaveringly, Cersei pressed her back against the car.
Her knee bent so her thigh was directly on Sansa's centre, warm and inviting, and she gasped in pleasure as Cersei leaned forward to whisper delicately.
"You misbehaved tonight, Sansa."
She positively shivered, arching her back and tipping her head to the car to give Cersei an unobstructed view of her neck.
"I'm going to go inside now. As punishment you must go to the boot of the car and put it on. Do not enter the house wearing anything else." Cersei said this all in a whisper, watching the little loose strands of hair quivering against her breath. She gave her earlobe a swift bite before retreating completely and turning her back, walking into her house with purposeful strides.
She entered the house, stilling her shaking hands against the key and pushing the door open. She took in a few shaky breaths, kicking off her heels and making for the bedroom.
"Shit," she muttered, looking at the clothes littered floor and sheet music splayed on most available surfaces. Still deliberating whether or not she had time to shove all of it under the bed, she heard the front door open and then close.
Reminding herself that she was in control, a powerful woman, older than Sansa, she shook her hair out and exited her room.
Sansa was in the doorway still, leaning heavily on the frame and dressed still in her clothes from the concert. She held up the corset in one hand, quirking an eyebrow with a drunk looking smile on her face.
"Two things," she said, clearing her throat. "First of all, I can't put this on because I'm not entirely sure my fingers could cope with the button mechanism." She then bought her eyes up to Cersei's.
"Secondly, I think I'd much rather see it on you."
Her voice was low and husky, and there was a moment of that blinding tension that made her nipples ache and her abdomen flutter. It was immediately set off by the drunken giggle that emerged from those pretty pink lips.
She staggered into the house and almost flung the object at Cersei, and she would have been indignant had the next object that was flung at her not actually been Sansa herself.
She fell into Cersei's arms, looked up at that disapproving expression, and leaned onto her toes.
"I think you would look absolutely delicious." Sansa confessed, her breath ghosting across her neck. Cersei tried her hardest not to shudder, reminded herself how drunk Sansa clearly was.
And Cersei was not going to take advantage.
Well, not a lot. Just one little thing…
She effortlessly captured those lips in a searing kiss, demanding entrance with her tongue along the seam that was parting. She sucked that bottom lip carefully, feeling her hands begin to wander and her mind give over to the numb buzzing of arousal when Sansa nibbled slightly on her top lip and sucked on the tip of her tongue.
Sansa's hands were threading into Cersei's hair and she simply wasn't sure if she could contain herself much longer, because now her bare palms were against the bare skin of Sansa's back and she was ridiculously warm, the heat rolling off her in waves that were almost palpable.
Sansa edged off her toes, the height difference becoming an issue until she leant forward and bit down on Cersei's collarbone. A cry was ripped from her throat as Sansa soothed the mark with her tongue and made her way downwards, her drunken yet sure fingers slipping below the neck of her shirt to clear the path for her mouth.
When she felt cool air against her bare breast, she knew she had let this go too far.
"Sansa, you're drunk." Cersei said weakly, regaining control long enough to collect Sansa's hands into hers and pin them behind her back. This seemed to excite her and Cersei only rolled her eyes.
"Astute observation." Sansa managed, only speaking when she realised her squirming was ineffective. She was eyeing Cersei's chest though, her purpose made completely clear without the aid of that obscene tongue darting out to moisten her lips in the most suggestive of gestures.
"I'm not going to take advantage of you, now go lay down and I'll fetch you something to sleep in." Cersei instructed, releasing her wrists and making a determined path to her walk in dressing room, an indulgence of hers that she insisted upon having in her house. She located the pyjama section and found some shorts and a singlet, unable to resist picking the shortest ones she could find.
When she returned to the front of the house she found Sansa was not on the couch. There was, however, a trail of clothes that was apparently leading into Cersei's room.
Steeling herself, she followed the path made by a discarded shoe, and then another, then a dress and…
Cersei felt her breath catch as she stared down at those little black panties, that bra that was peeking out of the doorway.
"Fuck," she intoned, debating internally with herself the pros and cons of entering this room. Her room.
Her feet moved of their own accord, despite her dry mouth and suddenly quivering hands that she stilled against her thigh as her eyes roamed the room, finally landing on Sansa hungrily.
She was asleep.
The sheets were pooled around her waist, the crimson silk looking stark against her skin and her own auburn hair. Pale pink nipples stood on end in the cool air and she was spread in a completely open position, almost welcoming.
Cersei felt her internal voice urging her to tie those thin wrists to the bedpost and wake her up with some explosive cunnilingus, but she quelled this thought to strip herself, pulling on the pyjamas intended for Sansa and climbing into the bed, ignoring the little moral voice in her head telling her to sleep on the couch.
It was her damn bed, after all.
She stayed on her side, examining Sansa in her sleeping state for a while before turning over, sighing boldly and questioning why she had stopped earlier. If it was anyone else she would have already had them, against the kitchen bench or on the floor of the hallway where they had been previously.
She rolled over again to look at this unremarkable girl. She was beautiful, yes. But then again, so was Cersei. So was Lancel for fucks sake.
She ran a hand through her hair and remembered she hadn't taken off her mascara yet, or had a shower. The cold sweat that had formed before a performance was still a dried residue on her skin, the tension of holding the violin in the same position on her shoulder still aching lightly.
Making a decision she rolled out of bed, leaving Sansa to sleep as she made her way into the bathroom. On her way there she paused at her wardrobe, muttering a low 'fuck it' as she pulled a waterproof vibrator from one of the drawers and pocketed it.
She had gone to bed sexually frustrated too many nights in a row this week.
She stripped again, looking at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. Her face was still flushed from their earlier encounter, the blush spreading to the tips of her chest. Her stomach muscles fluttered under her own scrutiny and she placed the vibrator on the same shelf as her shampoo and conditioner, climbing under the nozzle and turning the taps impatiently.
The shock of water seemed to wake her from a reverie, simultaneously sharpening her arousal and making her painfully aware of her awkward fumblings with Sansa, realising that now she might want to leave. Sansa was willing whilst she was drunk, but what would she think in the light of day?
Cersei groaned as the tepid water slid over her body, and she followed its path with her hand as she leant against the shower wall, turning on the little purple vibrator and letting the buzzing fill the silent spaces of her mind just as it was filling the shower.
Towards 2 a.m. she finally climbed into bed, sexually sated and clean, with bruising marks around her nipples from her own rough treatment and swollen lips from biting down her moans. She looked over at the innocent form of sleeping Sansa, who had tugged the sheet back around her shoulders so only her face and the tips of her fingers were visible.
"I hope you're happy." She muttered, flicking off the bedside lamp with a lazy gesture and letting her head finally hit the pillow.