Was it the sea that had dragged her in a state of delirium?
Sansa found herself lying on the gravels; though she was still, her hands and lips were moving as if she wasn't the one operating them. Dainty fingers grabbed black raven-like locks and tugged on them. Scarlet lips ignited with passion as he was devouring them. He was on top of her, clinging to her urgently; the breeze carried away his heavy breath and mixed it with the sound of the water hitting the shore ever so gently. His hands were tracing every inch of her body, as if to get to know it. On her arms, on her sides, on her hips, on her thighs, he was caressing her, so slowly and yet so ruthlessly. Like an intruder, his tongue slipped past her parted lips and tasted her ravenously. Every touch was new and exciting but also kind of frightening. He was seducing her and she was giving in. A stranger, an abductor, full of cunning and enigmas…She couldn't suppress a moan when he began grinding his hips against hers; due to her innocence, it was unexpected. His warm palms, steadily and expertly, were grazing her thighs, lifting her gown up along the way. Waves of shivering ran down her spine; she was breathless. Her heartbeat was raged and an unfamiliar warmth was streaming through her veins. Is this what wanting feels like?
His soft lips descended from her mouth to her neck; as they brushed on her skin, in such an alluring manner, she gripped his hair and moaned again, not just once since he began biting and sucking on her neck. Like a magnet, his body was calling for hers and she responded by pressing against him. Her thoughts were ruffled and her body shaky. The most tremendous strike of desire came when he glided his hand on her inner thigh, so close to her private area that she had to gasp for air. The temptation he was offering to her was overwhelming but it wasn't right; not like this.
"Petyr…" His first name slipped out without difficulty but their panting swallowed it.
She tried to move but her body was captivated beneath his. His fingers were moving closer and closer and her legs had begun to quiver with anticipation. She pulled his hair with all the strength she could master in such a moment of weakness and she guided his face away from her neck, so they were facing each other.
"Don't" she barely muttered. She feared he wouldn't listen but he proved her wrong.
His hand rested on her exposed thigh and his grey-green eyes locked with hers. His pupils had magnified; is it because of the craving? His breath was quick and his lips slightly swollen from the fierce kisses. They gazed into each other's eyes as if seeing them for the first time. No words were exchanged. Eventually, their breathing went back to normal and their tense bodies relaxed against each other. Only then did Sansa realise that her cheeks were burning as if she had set them on fire. Involuntarily, her fingers moved through his hair; this time the grip was loose and her movements slow and…affectionate? He smiled at her wryly, slyly and she responded with a shy smile of her own. Her eyes fluttered shut when Petyr leaned closer and planted three warm kisses on the side of her face. She felt him shifting and rolling off, only to lie next to her instead.
Humming seagulls flew above them and moved in circles in the sky, their white colour contrasting the blue. Sansa had always preferred other birds that chirped more melodically, but their presence came along with the sea. She could focus on its smell again as well as the feeling of the tiny waves oftentimes splashing her feet. All those sensations had vanished when he had lit up the fire between them.
She dared to turn her head to the side and look at him; he was staring at the sky but his expression reflected no emotion. Their hands were laid next to each other but they weren't touching. She swallowed thickly and the words that were on the tip of her tongue streamed out as whispers.
"Why…why are you behaving like this with me if you are going to give me to Prince Joffrey?"
She shuddered and looked away again. Foolish girl, this is not a growing fondness, only vain pleasure and manipulation, she scolded herself.
Her breath caught in her throat when Petyr took her hand. She could feel his gaze on her but she didn't have the courage to meet his piercing eyes.
"To get what we want, sometimes we must go through a tough road first" he muttered.
He squeezed her hand and brushed his thumb on its back. Every question she asked in hope of clarification of his actions only made her even more confused. The godswood, the feast, the rapture; was it her that he wanted or was she just a pawn in his game, whose utter aim was Catelyn?
"And what do you want?" This time their eyes met. She searched the depths of his, desperately striving to find a spark of honesty.
"Everything" he responded vaguely after a few seconds.
The epiphany left her staring at him, with curiosity, surprise and contemplation. As if she wasn't participant in the moment, she watched him leaning in to kiss her one more time briefly before sitting up on the small stones. The seagulls were gone and the white on the sky was now due to the clouds that had begun gathering.
"We should head back. It might start raining soon" he stated while putting his boots back on.
She didn't want to leave but there was no choice. The sea had been exhilarating and revealing. When they would have returned, it would only feel like an illusion; like a dream. She sat up too and pulled her dress to its normal length, straightening the wrinkles his seductive hands had caused. She put on her boots and stood up, taking a moment to look at the sea one last time. The horizon appeared blurrier; mist had started falling and the wind, though soft, was becoming colder. Perhaps one day we will return by the sea…
She bit the inside of her cheek when she felt his arms wrapping around her from the behind. His warm breath blew against her hair, her neck and her ear and his smooth lips brushed on her skin.
"We will return, I promise you" he said as if he had read her thoughts. Another promise he could easily not keep. Does it matter to him?
The kiss he placed on her neck said yes but her suspicion and caution said otherwise. He released her and the couple left the stony shore.
They found their horses where they had left them. Soon after they had mounted them and rode away, the sky was fully grey and raindrops began falling while they were still on the way. The barely habited place seemed even more lonely and sorrowful, quiet and isolated with the sound of the rain. Sansa pulled up her hood, protecting her auburn hair from being damp. Petyr didn't have that luxury. They left the horses at the stable and rushed back to the house. He stayed by her side at all times, even when it meant being more soaked by the rain.
"Seven Hells, Lord Baelish!" Kella yelled once they were inside. She hurried to them with two freshly washed capes and tossed them over their shoulders. "Come on then, milady, sit by the fire" with a dutiful smile, she dragged Sansa at the corner of the room, to the fireplace.
"Prepare dinner for us, Kella" Petyr commanded, shooting a strict look to the woman.
She obeyed and left the two alone in the hall. The fire radiated warmth and light. Sansa thought of how much her mother enjoyed sitting by the fireplace in Winterfell. They would sew together sometimes. When her mother was busy, Old Nan narrated stories to her and her siblings. Bran and Arya always preferred those with knights, murder and war. Sansa preferred the ones about romance, castles, princes and princesses. Rickon was still too young to have a preference, though he accepted listening to all kinds of stories. She had to smile at the memory.
"You should change into dry clothes, sweetling. We wouldn't want you catching a cold now, would we?" Lord Baelish spoke as he sat on the divan next to her.
She nodded and looked at him. His wet, short black locks had stuck on his forehead, dripping with raindrops as if he was the sky. A strongest wave of warmth ran through her; did the fire grow bigger?
"If this is your home-place, why do you have no family here?" she asked him suddenly. Every time she was in the hall, she couldn't help but notice that there were no portraits or statues of descendants nor items that seemed to have a sentimental family value.
Are all my questions so funny, she pondered when his usual smirk flashed on his face.
"My father was the last one left. He died a few years back" he shrugged. "That is why I am the lord here now."
It was strange to think that a place like this actually had a lord. During her education with Maester Luwin, House Baelish wasn't even mentioned in the history of noble houses. She guessed it was truly small.
Silence fell between the two of them. She had to rise and change clothes but the fire was demanding from her to stay. She held her cold hands close to the burning wood and allowed the flames to caress them with their heat.
"Here, let me." Before she could retort, he took her hands and held them loosely.
She was startled by how warm his hands were, even though the rain had doused him more than her. Her cheeks began to burn due to his cosy grasp. The flames danced in his gleaming grey-green eyes and his wet lips glistened. I should go…I should go before he hexes me again…
Their hands were resting on his lap, upon the wet fabric of his breeches. His tunic was just as soaked, beneath the cape Kella had provided him with. They both ought to change but neither of them made a move to do so. A thunder struck outside and its light flashed through the windows. It made her jump but his hold tightened and comforted her instantly.
"Storms strike this place often, I'm afraid" he rustled.
"We didn't have storms often in Winterfell…just rain and snow" she recollected. Robb liked the rain but Rickon was afraid of if; therefore, his eldest brother would stay with him and recite stories about brave knights in battles under the rain.
"You are not in Winterfell anymore" he reminded her with a quirk of his eyebrows. "The capital is south. The weather is much different there as well."
She nodded in understanding of his words. She would have to adapt; just like she was adapting now; to the weather, to the place, to Kella, to him…
She lowered her gaze to their hands; still clasped together, dried and warmer. All these touches will have to end once I am betrothed to the prince, right?
Petyr's body leaned into hers and her eyes closed when his lips claimed hers. The kiss wasn't as hungry and feverish as by the sea. It was slow and sensual and still, it took her breath away. Her body felt like a mass of embers, seared not by the fire but by him. Their lips massaged together at such a slow pace that it tormented her with impatience. She opened her mouth a little, granting his tongue access to taste hers. She couldn't hear the striking thunders or the heavy rain anymore; only their breathing, hitching and quickening. She lost track of time just as she lost herself in his tantalising kiss.
It was Petyr who pulled back, abruptly and hastily. He released her hands too and fixed his posture, as if he had been staring at the fire all this time. It took her a moment to realise why; Kella was back, serving the dining table with the plates.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, milady" the woman said and gifted Sansa with a toothy smile.
"No, I'm just…just hungry" she responded, unaware of how her voice managed to come out so steady.
"You still haven't changed. Neither of you" Kella commented with a puff of disappointment. "Better hurry and do so or else your dinner will get cold."
Sansa swallowed and looked at him, searching for an answer. He cast a side-glance towards her; she thought she saw a faint smile too.
They both left to change into dry clothes and reunite at dinner, which they had with stolen glances and secret yearning, unspoken and undisclosed. The night separated them again with formal wishes of peaceful sleep. The wishes of closeness and ignition were left unuttered and unexpressed.
On the morrow, she didn't see him.
