Sansa wore a smirk. It was the first one he could remember seeing on her. He liked it. She sat at her dressing table, hands neatly folded in her lap, as he entered the room.
"My lady," he gave a respectful nod, an absurd show of ceremony considering their last meeting. "You look well."
"My lord." Both broke into a full smile, and Sansa gave a laugh.
"Well?" Abandoning his perfect posture, he strode toward her and took a seat in the chair beside hers.
"It went well. Very well," She grinned at him, "thanks to you."
"You see? And just yesterday, you were convinced all was lost. You must learn to trust me, my dear."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry I ever had a doubt."
"So, His Grace… responded well?"
"I've never seen him silent for so long!" She laughed, and Petyr followed. "I came into his chambers- didn't say a word, mind you- and began to undress before he could start… you know." He nodded. "I was up on the bed and… showing him… before he could get a word out."
"He did not try to stop you?"
"I don't think he knew what to do! I don't think he'd ever seen a girl… you know, do that. Before."
"Relief to know he was interested."
"Transfixed."
Petyr beamed at her.
"You have done very well. How far you have come from the frightened thing you were just weeks ago!" Now she looked shy.
"Well… anyone would have done the same. We all do what we must to survive, don't we?"
"Not everyone does it well. And did he watch the whole time? Did you finish?"
"Yes, he watched, but I didn't. I couldn't, with him just standing there… he did, though."
"In the same way he had before?"
"No, he didn't even touch me. He just-
"Why did you not finish, yourself?"
"Like I said, he was just standing there the whole time, so-"
"I was standing here when you did it last night." There was silence. Her mouth snapped shut and she blushed violently.
Why could he not keep from pushing this point?
"It was… it was different, with him…"
"Did you shut your eyes? Did you use your fantasy, as we practiced?"
"Yes, of course, it just… I don't think I could forget… who he was. What he did to me. To my father-" She broke off, looking away, a glint of a tear starting in one eye. Petyr immediately reached out to cradle her face in his hand, turning her toward him.
"I am sorry. Of course. How crass of me to ask- forgive my curiosity, sweet Sansa. Think nothing of it. Now. We should look forward, plot your next move. Since you have earned his interest, we will need to use it before he grows bored. He is very easily bored."
"Yes, very."
"You will engage him physically. Do something for him that proves you know what you are doing… and that he would benefit from following your lead. This is a crucial part of the process: we must press our advantage, but not too far. Not yet."
"You mean, not… all the way?"
"No, my sweet. Don't worry, your virtue remains intact another day." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "But I do wonder, have you ever done anything for him…" the Lord's gaze tumbled slowly down her face, lingering on her lips, "with your mouth?"
"But I already tried kissing hi-"
"No, no." He bent his head, grinning to himself. Sansa had the distinct feeling he was laughing at her, albeit silently. "I mean to say, have you ever served him, with your mouth?"
"I- I don't-" She shook her head, her squint questioning. Petyr leaned in close to her, head bent, so she could smell the mint of his breath, and his eyes drew up her body until they flashed at her own.
"Do you suck his cock, Sansa?" She was utterly taken aback.
"Do I… what?"
"Oh, you poor, innocent girl- I expect you have never even thought of such things before, have you?"
"I… I've talked…with girls from the city, and…" She was clearly trying to regain her dignity, improvising what she must have thought was a knowing look.
"It will be all right. You needn't lie to me. It is to your credit, to the credit of your virtue. Do not worry, I am here to teach you." She nodded slightly, accepting both his perception and his offer.
"What would I have to do?"
"First, you would have to get him in a position to let you move freely without his interference. Which means you will have to do a bit of acting."
"Acting? What do you mean?"
"With your eyes, mostly. Show him that you are in control. That you intend to do something, and he ought to let you. And show him… that it is something you want to do. In other words, seduce him."
"With my eyes?" She sounded incredulous.
"That is where all seduction starts. All decent seduction, anyway. You will need to be in the right mind for it. You have to feel that you are capable, that you are desirable, powerful, sexual, before he can." Petyr stood up, clasping his hands in front of him, and paced slowly. "So. I want you to close your eyes. Picture the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. I don't mean stoic beauty. I mean hot-blooded, sensual beauty. And now, picture her naked."
"Mmhmm." Sansa's brow was furrowed in concentration.
"Picture how she moves. How she smiles. Feel the way she feels about herself. Think about how she makes you feel, how other people feel about her, how men feel about her. Now, imagine- know- that you are that woman."
Eyes closed, she could hear his voice circle her slowly as he spoke. His words came from behind her now. "You are the beauty, the girl everyone watches. You are coveted. Desired. Feel their want, Sansa." His tone dropped to a low, intimate whisper, and she felt his breath on the back of her neck. "Feel their envy. Their lust. Their need. Women the seven kingdoms over would do anything to be you. Men would do anything, anything, to be with you. To touch you…." Slowly, fingertips crept around her shoulders and held her there. "To have you…" Her spine tingled. "They dream of you. They think of you in the dark of nights, yearn for you in the lonely cold. There are men… would betray, lie, cheat, steal… would kill for you." His voice was at her temple now, his throat so close to her ear she could hear the growl of delight in his words. "That is power."
Practiced fingers teased through her hair, slowly drawing lines of shivering pleasure across her scalp. Sansa felt a numbness, drowned in the seductive speech he wove, as if all of her cares were very far away. "You alone are the gatekeeper. You hold the key to their release, to their wildest fantasies and elations… or their utter demise." Her head lolled back slightly as his fingernails pushed harder through her auburn strands. "You may choose their fate, at any time, on any whim, in any way. You are a queen."
Swiftly, he slid around her and onto the bed in front of her. She opened her eyes, and what he saw in them might have frightened the ordinary man. Her gaze was dark and intense, lids hooded and face stone. But he was no ordinary man; he knew she was drunk on his words. A silence hung between them, although it did not seem so to her. Her neck was hot, ears ringing lowly, her vision shadowy. The man before her, whose tongue spun such sweet silk, whose languid, half-closed eyes held secrets just for her, whose musk surrounded her, filled her, enveloped her... she felt herself leaning forward, just inches. "Now, what would a girl like you do to a man she wanted to bed?" The whisper was almost too husky to be heard. Almost.
The young queen reached out a hand to the swirling iridescent elegance of Lord Baelish's tunic, letting it trace down the fine fabric, feeling the resistance of his strong chest beneath it. Her fingertips fell, catching on the silver fleur clasps along the center as they went, til she reached his waist. Then her hand grew stiff, and pushed him, so effectively that he had to catch himself with both hands out behind to keep from falling back on the bed. She stood, as if to make a dominating move, over him- but as soon as she had risen, she seemed to remember herself. The intense stare dissipated into wide-eyed innocence, and the halting insecurity returned to her movement.
"What now?"
Petyr elected to take a chance.
"Now, you would push his knees apart." He waited, silent. After a couple of beats, she understood. Her small hands reached for his knees, and did as he described. "And you would kneel between them." Slowly, she eased herself down, one leg at a time. He looked down at her, obediently prone on the floor, a hand on each of his outer thighs, upturned face expectantly waiting for his next instruction. He could say anything. And in this moment, he knew, she would do it. Anything. He felt himself begin to swell.
Do not be greedy. This is not the time. Petyr Baelish understood what it was to wait, what it was to bide time and hold off desires. He had seen battles lost and kingdoms fall over foolish greed, blind ambition, unchecked lust. And what he wanted to tell her to do… that was pure greed. "Of course, I will not ask you to do this, but remember it well for tomorrow night, when you are with your dear King." He couldn't help but indulge just a bit. "You should first take off his robes or tunic, then the laces to his trousers- quickly- and then, you will pull his cock out." By now, he knew what effect that word had on her. It gave him a slight thrill to shock her with it- to see her react to its obscenity. It reminded him how pure and virtuous she was, like fresh fallen snow that no boot had ever trod. He hesitated just a second, then decided to push further.
"You will stroke it, squeeze it, firm but not painful, the way you see him do. Play with it for a few moments. And then," he watched with delight as her eyes widened, "begin by kissing it. The tip, the sides, gentle, wet kisses. And then your tongue- across the end, over the top, under the ridge. Lick it, tip to base, and swirl your tongue around the head. And then... you'll suck." His words came with a slow, fluid rhythm now, as if he were reciting poetry.
"Just the head, at first. The end of it. There will be a little liquid on your tongue from him. Play with it. Let him see. Then more into your mouth- slowly, take more of it down, until he is as deep as you can get him. Never let your teeth touch- only the roof of your mouth, lips and tongue." He looked sharply down at her, and his tone changed. "Use your hands to hold him off from taking control. Don't let him get his hands behind your head, and don't let him get on top of you. Do you understand?" Dumbfounded, she nodded.
"How… how long must I do it for?"
"As long as it takes. Until he finds release. And then, my dear," he bent down to be very close to her face again, gently lifting her chin with one finger,"you must swallow it all down. And lick your lips, and smile."
