Here we are, the last chapter. As a fan service, you can enjoy some sweet smut one last time and an epilogue that wraps up the story of Sansa and Gwayne; enjoy.
Epilogue
The evening sun filtered through the tall windows of Winterfell, bathing the lord's chambers in a warm glow. Within their large feather-bed, Lady Sansa Stark stirred gently against her husband's sturdy frame. Years had passed since their marriage, and lines now creased her fair skin, her auburn tresses streaked with silver. Yet when Gwayne gazed upon her sleepy face, his heart still swelled as it had on their wedding day.
Sansa's sapphire eyes fluttered open to meet his mossy stare, and she graced him with a soft smile. "Good night, my love," she whispered in her melodic voice. Gwayne brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, calloused fingers tracing its curve with utmost care. Though her body had changed after bearing four children, in his eyes she remained as fair and fiery as when they had first joined in passion's dance.
As they lay tangled amidst furs, exchanging gentle kisses filled with deep familiarity, Gwayne felt his manhood stir against her hip. Even after so many years, the sight and scent of his lady still aroused his desire.
Gwayne kissed along Sansa's throat, revelling in the faint scents of rosewater and elderberry that clung to her skin. His palm glided down the curve of her waist, noting how it had softened after bearing their progeny. Though her flesh was less taut, within her embrace he felt the strength of the she-wolf that remained.
As their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, Gwayne's hand cupped the swell of Sansa's hip. He traced the silvery lines there with delicate fingers - marks left by her growing womb stretching to carry their children into the world. His other hand drifted up to palm one full breast, its crest roughened now from suckling babes. Yet the nipple still pebbled at his touch, belying its sensitivity.
Sansa sighed into his mouth, arching into his caress. Her knees parted further, baring the thatch of auburn between her thighs to his gaze. There, too, were faint striations where her flesh had given to bring new Starks into the world. Gwayne's manhood throbbed at the sight, remembering how snugly she had once gripped him during their most passionate couplings.
Slowly, reverently, he slid down the bed to press a kiss to each new mark upon her body. His mouth trailed lower, tasting the subtle salt of her skin, until he nuzzled into the tangle of curls. There he inhaled her musky scent, feeling himself swell impossibly harder before flicking out his tongue. Sansa gasped, fingers tangling in his hair to hold him close as he set to the loving task of bringing her sweet release.
Gwayne lapped gently at Sansa's sensitive flesh, eliciting soft moans from her parted lips. His tongue delved into her slick folds, drinking deeply of her essence. "My love, you taste as sweet as the first time," he murmured against her.
Sansa's fingers tightened in his hair. "And you...oh, you pleasure me as no other," she sighed. Her hips bucked subtly, seeking more of his intimate ministrations.
Smiling against her, Gwayne plunged his tongue in deeper, laving her inner walls relentlessly. He flicked the tight bud of her womanhood, drawing small circles around it before capturing it fully between his lips. Sansa cried out, back arching off the bed as ecstasy shot through her.
"There, my lord, just there!" she pleaded. Ever attentive to his lady's needs, Gwayne suckled her clit in earnest, hollowing his cheeks to increase her mounting rapture. He slid two fingers inside her slick channel, crooking them to stroke the sweet spot within as his tongue danced upon her most sensitive flesh.
Sansa was writhing now, gasping his name like a prayer as her peak approached. Gwayne felt her inner walls starting to flutter and clench around his digits. He redoubled his efforts, lapping and sucking with fervour to send her toppling over the edge.
With a long, low moan, Sansa peaked, her release flooding his mouth as her body bowed tautly. Gwayne drank deeply of her essence, continuing his ministrations to prolong her bliss. When she collapsed limply into the furs once more, he kissed his way back up her sated form, claiming her lips in a passion-filled embrace.
Sansa lay catching her breath, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen from their intimate mingling. As Gwayne propped himself above her, she lifted a hand to tenderly cup his bearded cheek. Her thumb brushed the faint lines that now crinkled at the corners of his mossy eyes, earned through years of laughter and smiles.
Tracing lower, her fingers glided over the weathered plains of his broad chest, noting the silver strands amidst the dark fleece.
Gwayne's muscles had softened slightly with age, though his frame remained lean and strong. Sansa's hand drifted down his flank, feeling the subtle change in texture from years past. Yet within her gentle palm, his manhood still stood as rigid as steel - a testament to the passion that continued to burn hot between them, even after all this time.
Lifting her gaze, Sansa smiled warmly at the love of her life. Though lines now creased them both, within her husband's eyes, she still saw the brave and honourable knight who had stolen her heart so long ago. Leaning up to meet his lips once more, she breathed her adoration against them.
"My Gwayne, my love. How fortunate am I still to have you by my side, when so many others have been lost to time."
Gwayne gazed down at Sansa with eyes full of tenderness and devotion. After all these years, making love to his lady still set his blood aflame. He kissed along her jaw and down the graceful curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin.
Reaching between them, Gwayne took his rigid manhood in hand and guided it to her slick entrance. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed inside - savouring the feeling of her silken sheath parting to accept his girth once more. Sansa sighed blissfully, her fingers carding through his hair as he bottomed out.
For a moment they remained joined, lost in the intimacy of their reconnection. Then Gwayne began to rock his hips in gentle, measured strokes. He drank in every nuance - the familiar clasp of her inner walls, the hitch of her breath, the way her fingers clenched against his back.
Lifting Sansa's thigh higher, he altered the angle of his thrusts to caress that sweet spot within. Her gasp told him he'd found his mark. Gwayne aimed for it with each roll of his hips, dragging his length along its ridge sensuously.
Sansa met his movements with her own, lifting to take him fully on each pass. Their lovemaking had an unhurried rhythm, a patience borne of long years entwined. Raw passion still simmered between them, but it was melded with profound intimacy - a bond deeper than mere flesh.
As pleasure coiled hot and tight within, Gwayne reached down to rub gentle circles upon Sansa's sensitive bud. Her climax took her with a cry, inner walls fluttering exquisitely around his shaft. The sensation tore his own release from him, and he spent himself fully within her welcoming sheath with a low groan.
Gwayne cradled Sansa's face gently between his calloused palms, gazing down at her with eyes full of wonder and devotion. Though they had coupled many times, being joined with his lady in such an intimate manner never ceased to move him.
"My beautiful wife," he murmured, brushing his lips softly against hers. Sansa smiled up at him, cupping his cheek in return.
"My gallant knight," she replied fondly. Her thumb traced the line of his strong jaw, coming to rest on his bottom lip. Gwayne caught it between his teeth, nibbling lightly in a way that never failed to stir her passions anew.
Unable to resist, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss, pouring all the love in his heart into the embrace. Sansa responded in kind, parting her lips to allow his tongue entrance. They tasted one another thoroughly, as if experiencing their first kiss once more after so many years.
Gwayne's hands began to wander across Sansa's relaxed form, reacquainting himself with the curves he knew so well. His fingers brushed lightly oversensitive breasts, traced the dip of her waist, squeezed the soft flesh of her hips. Every caress was imbued with adoration and tenderness.
Breaking the kiss at last, Gwayne pressed his lips to Sansa's throat, feeling her pulse quicken beneath. "I cannot seem to sate myself of you, even now," he growled against her skin. His manhood was stirring once more, eager to claim her body in a surfeit of passion.
Sansa tipped her chin up with a knowing smile, baring more of her neck in invitation. "Then have your fill, my love, and I shall delight in every moment."
Gwayne groaned low in his throat at Sansa's words, his blood stirring anew at the thought of joining with her again. He renewed his attentions to her neck, raining open-mouthed kisses along the pale column.
Sansa sighed blissfully, carding her fingers through his dark hair. As his lips blazed a trail lower, she felt his rigid manhood pressing hotly against her thigh once more. A spark of mischief lit her azure eyes.
With deft hands, she gently flipped their positions, coming to straddle Gwayne's hips in a smooth motion. He gazed up at her in surprise, taking in her beauty in the low firelight. Sansa graced him with a coy smile.
"My lord husband has pleased me greatly this evening," she purred. Her fingers traced idle patterns over his muscled chest, coming to toy with the coarse hair below. "Now it is my turn to lavish attention upon you."
Before Gwayne could respond, Sansa dipped her head, flicking out her tongue to taste the bead of moisture gathered at his flushed tip. His gasp of pleasure spurred her on.
Sansa lavished her lord husband's manhood with devoted attention, determined to draw out his pleasure through every means she knew. She swirled her tongue around his velvet-sheathed girth, tracing each throbbing vein with slow, sensuous strokes.
Gwayne filled her mouth so deliciously, his manly musk intoxicating her senses. Sansa took him deeper, relaxing her throat to accept more of his rigid length in a smooth glide. Her lips forming a tight seal, she began to suckle firmly as she bobbed her head in a steady rhythm.
Above her, Gwayne was lost to carnal rapture, hazel eyes shut tight and mouth agape in wordless cries of bliss. His fingers tangled gently in Sansa's auburn locks, guiding without forcing her movements. She met each subtle thrust of his hips, hallowing her cheeks to intensify his mounting rapture.
When Sansa took him fully to the back of her throat once more, Gwayne's control snapped. His hips bucked sharply as heat pooled in his loins, ready to spill over.
As her lord husband neared his peak, Sansa could feel his manhood throbbing fiercely between her lips. She sucked harder, swallowing around his engorged flesh, determined to wring every last drop of his passion from him.
Gwayne cried out hoarsely, his seed erupting from his tip in thick pulses that flooded Sansa's awaiting mouth. Ever devoted, she did not withdraw or spill a single ropy strand. Instead, she massaged his pulsing length with her tongue, eagerly swallowing wave after wave of his spend.
Sansa noted how his essence seemed to have thickened and intensified over the years, a heady brew both familiar and surprising to her taste. She drank deeply, prolonging Gwayne's rapture, until at last he collapsed, spent.
Only then did she withdraw her lips, licking them contentedly. A few pearly drops had escaped her efforts, and she collected these from her chin with a finger, suckling it clean with a satisfied hum.
Gwayne lay amidst the furs, still dazzled by the heights of pleasure Sansa had wrung from his body with her magnificent mouth. His chest heaved as senses returned, and he gazed up at his lady wife with eyes full of adoration.
"Sansa, my heart, you continue to astound me," he breathed, holding out a hand in invitation.
She smiled, warm and sated, and slid her naked form against his once more. Gwayne wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close against his pounding heart. He pressed reverent kisses to her lips, her cheeks, whispering praises against her flushed skin.
"My queen, my love, what did I do to deserve such a goddess in my bed? After all these years, your passion and skill leave me awestruck. I am the most fortunate of men to call you mine."
Sansa sighed softly, tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape. "As am I, to have you by my side through it all. You light a fire in my blood like none other, Gwayne. I cherish these moments we share, now more than ever."
Gwayne captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all his veneration into the embrace. In Sansa's arms he found solace, home - a safe harbour from the storms of life and all its hardships.
Gwayne held Sansa close as their heartbeats steadied and breathing slowed in the aftermath of passion's bliss. He savoured the feel of her soft curves pressed against his body, skin to skin, as if they were still young lovers sharing their first embrace.
Sansa nestled her head under his chin with a contented sigh, drinking in the musky scent of their intimacy still lingering on his flesh. Her fingers traced idle patterns over his chest, tracing each scar and line as if committing him anew to memory with each caress.
Gwayne pressed a tender kiss to her brow, breathing her name like a prayer. "Sleep now, my love. You've exhausted this old knight thoroughly and I'll not last awake much longer." His words held fond amusement rather than complaint.
Chuckling softly, Sansa lifted her gaze to meet his, her sapphire eyes shining with devotion in the low firelight. "Then rest, husband. I shall keep watch over your slumber, as you have guarded mine all these years."
She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, then settled back against his shoulder. Gwayne cradled her close as darkness crept into the edges of his vision. Sleep claimed him swiftly, comforted by the rise and fall of Sansa's breaths and the warmth of her body nestled in his arms.
Gwayne awoke slowly as dawn's rosy fingers crept through the windows. The first thing he noted was the familiar warmth nestled in his embrace - his beautiful Sansa, still deep in dreams' gentle clutches. A smile touched his lips.
Leaning in, he pressed soft kisses along her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath his lips. His hand drifted lower to cup her breast, thumb flicking her pebbled nipple lazily. Sansa stirred with a throaty moan.
"Good morrow, my queen," Gwayne rumbled against her skin between nibbling kisses. His fingers trailed down the plane of her stomach, coming to rest between her thighs.
Sansa's lips parted on a sigh as he found her already slick and ready for his touch. Gwayne teased her entrance briefly before sliding a finger deep inside her tight heat. Her walls gripped him snugly even now, a perfect fit, and he began to pump slowly in and out.
"Gwayne..." she breathed, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, hazy with lust. Her hand covered his, urging him to increase his pace and crook his finger just so against the sweet spot within.
Gwayne smiled wolfishly, quickening his ministrations until Sansa was writhing and gasping beneath him. Her peak took her swiftly, walls clenching his digit in rippling waves of ecstasy. He swallowed her cries with a deep kiss, relishing the taste of her pleasure upon his tongue.
"Good morrow indeed, my love," Sansa purred when they parted, eyes alight with mischief and want.
Gwayne gazed down at Sansa with eyes dark with renewed longing. Her cheeks still flushed rosy from climax, she was a vision of loveliness amidst the rumpled furs.
"So cheeky, my queen," he rumbled, nipping playfully at her kiss-swollen lips.
Sansa's eyes danced with mirth. "And what does my lord husband crave this morn?" she replied, tracing idle patterns across his muscled chest.
Gwayne caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I've a hunger only you can satisfy, my love. Grant me the pleasure of watching you ride me - take your fill of me as you see fit."
His words sent a fresh thrill through her veins. Leaning in, Sansa breathed her reply against his lips in a husky whisper. "Then you shall have your wish, my king. I live but to please you."
With a wicked smile, she threw her leg over his hips, taking his rigid manhood in hand to guide him to her slick entrance. Sansa sank down with a wanton sigh, taking him fully inside her tight sheath.
Bracing her palms upon Gwayne's chest, she began to rise and fall at a leisurely pace, eyes locked with his as carnal bliss overtook them.
Gwayne gripped Sansa's hips gently as she rode him, steadying her movements as much as spurring them on. Their lovemaking had matured like fine wine over the years - less a frantic coupling, more an sensual dance where every caress held significance.
Sansa set a languid pace, lifting and falling in a rolling rhythm that allowed her to feel every rigid inch of her husband's manhood, filling her deeply. Her walls gripped him with practised skill, milking his length on each pass.
"My beautiful wife," Gwayne sighed, thumbs brushing her flushed cheekbones. Though gray now streaked their hair, within his lady's sapphire eyes, he saw the same passion that first claimed his heart so long ago.
Leaning down, Sansa captured his lips in a lingering kiss. "My strong knight," she breathed when they parted. "How you continue to ravish my body and soul alike. No other could make me feel as alive as you do, my love."
Sansa's passionate words ignited a primal hunger within Gwayne's loins. His desire and need for this woman had not dimmed at all in all those years.
Bucking his hips up sharply to meet her descending form, Gwayne grasped Sansa's hips and surged deeply into her welcoming heat. She gasped at the sudden fullness, her intimate walls instinctively clenching around his rigid girth.
Gwayne set a rougher pace now, years of experience allowing him to find just the right angle to stroke firmly over her sweet spot with each powerful thrust. Sansa cried out around a wanton moan, her ample breasts bouncing enticingly with each meeting of their hips.
Sweat-soaked and greying they may be, within the bower they were man and wife, souls joined as one in the dance as old as time. Gwayne felt Sansa's inner walls begin to quiver, a telltale sign she neared the precipice once more.
As Sansa neared the precipice, Gwayne gazed intensely into her lust-blown eyes. With practised aim, he drove upward with all his strength, the thick head of his cock striking that sweet spot unerringly.
Sansa threw her head back with a keening wail, her passage spasming fiercely around Gwayne's throbbing length. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her, drawing out her climax exquisitely. Beneath her, Gwayne grunted in primal admiration of his lady undone.
His own end was swift to follow. Gritting his teeth, Gwayne drove upward once more as release claimed him. Sansa felt his hot seed pulsing deeply inside her, flooding her womb in thick ropes born of over two decades of passion.
She shuddered deliciously at the feeling, clenching around him rhythmically to wring every last drop of his spend. Gwayne groaned gutturally, lost in the bliss of spilling himself into his queen's most sacred place.
As their climaxes ebbed in rolling aftershocks, Gwayne pressed tender kisses to Sansa's heaving breasts. "Gods, you'll be the death of me, woman," he growled fondly against her flushed skin.
Sansa smiled wearily. "What a way to die, my love."
Gwayne's arms enfolded Sansa in a strong yet gentle embrace as they floated down from heights of ecstasy. Her sweat-slicked body fitted perfectly against the hard planes of his own, two pieces of a puzzle long interlocked.
He pressed doting kisses across her cheeks, her brow, murmuring sweet nothings of love and devotion between each one. "My heart, my soul, you take my breath away even now," Gwayne sighed.
Sansa smiled softly, tracing the lines etched around his eyes - marks of the years but also of mirth. "And you are my compass, true north, steadying my course through all storms," she replied, cupping his bearded jaw.
Gwayne turned his head to kiss her palm, nuzzling her delicate wrist. His hazel eyes glowed with warmth as he gazed upon the woman who was his very being.
The morning light grew stronger as Gwayne lay, cradling Sansa in his arms. Content to simply bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking, he traced idle patterns across her flushed skin, memorizing each curve as he had a thousand times before.
Sansa sighed blissfully, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. But Gwayne felt subtle knots of tension beneath his fingers along her shoulders. "My dear, you've been poring over your books too long of late," he chided gently.
She peered up at him, contrition and gratitude mingling in her bright eyes. "Knowledge is a thirst not so easily quenched, my love."
A smile twitched at Gwayne's lips. "Then let me aid your studies, sweet wife, by loosening these knots distracting your brilliant mind."
Gwayne's strong yet nimble fingers set to work, finding each knotted nub of tension buried beneath Sansa's smooth skin. He massaged the hardened muscle at the base of her neck, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from her lips.
Tracing the tight cords up toward her shoulder, he kneaded with firm, circular motions. Sansa melted into his expert touch with a contented hum as tension unravelled by slow degrees. Gwayne took his time, applying just the right pressure to work out each knot without causing pain.
Beneath his attentive ministrations, Sansa's muscles turned pliant as warm wax. He massaged the stiffness from her shoulders in thorough strokes, eliciting deeper sighs of bliss. Her head lolled heavily against his sturdy chest as complete relaxation overtook her.
Only when he felt her limp and loose-limbed in his embrace did Gwayne move his attentions to the knuckled tension spanning her upper back. His fingers danced lightly over her satin skin, coaxing out lingering knots.
By the time he pressed a loving, proprietary kiss to the nape of her neck, Sansa was fully limp and pliant. She rewarded his efforts with a soft, sated smile and lingering kiss of gratitude for his skilled fingers' soothing work.
Lying entwined amidst the furs, Gwayne and Sansa savoured the sweet intimacy of that quiet moment. Her head rested upon his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as fingers idly traced his weathered skin.
Gwayne inhaled the flowery scent of her auburn locks, mingled with the headier notes of their passion, and sighed contentedly. After so long, the silkiness of her skin and warmth of her body against his never ceased to stir his soul.
One hand splayed across the smooth planes of Sansa's back, memorizing each delicate curve as if for the first time. His queen was a work of art, one he never tired of studying and worshipping with hands well-versed in her form.
Alas, as he lay basking in Sansa's embrace, Gwayne felt a familiar itch arise between his shoulder blades - an old wound that plagued him at the most inopportune moments. He shifted restlessly, to no avail.
Sansa lifted her head, gazing at him knowingly through heavy-lidded eyes. "There you are, my love, lost to that bothersome spot again," she crooned, a playful glint in her sapphire irises.
"Attend me, wife, and see if those talented fingers of yours might soothe it at last," Gwayne rumbled back, a roguish smirk curving his lips.
Sansa hummed softly as her delicate fingers set to work, lightly scratching the itchy spot between Gwayne's shoulder blades. Years of intimacy had attuned her to his every liking; she applied just the right pressure in gentle, circular motions.
Gwayne sighed blissfully, muscles going lax as tension seeped from his body. Sansa's talented fingers worked magic, easing the irritation that had plagued his old wound for so long. He shivered at her soothing ministrations, emitting a low groan of sheer contentment.
"Wife..." His voice was a warm rumble, dripping with affection. Even now, after all their years together, the word held a special reverence on Gwayne's tongue - a promise and blessing spoken anew each time.
Sansa smiled, continuing her ministrations. "Husband," she replied fondly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss between his broad shoulder blades. Her breath whispered pleasantly across his dampened skin.
Gwayne sighed, utterly relaxed beneath her skilled touch. "You are a sorceress, to undo me so with but a caress," he teased, though his tone held the deepest sincerity.
Sansa's fingers worked their magic until every last vestige of tension fled Gwayne's muscular frame. He rolled to face her once more, pulling her close to press an ardent kiss of gratitude to her lips.
As Gwayne nipped and sucked upon her pliant lips, Sansa couldn't help but giggle into the kiss. Even after all these years, her lord husband's ardour for her showed no signs of waning.
"Gwayne, you insatiable beast," she chided playfully against his mouth, though she rolled her hips invitingly against his stiffening manhood. "One would think you a green boy again, so eager you are this morn."
Gwayne rumbled with laughter, the sound vibrating through her as his hands gave her shapely rear an appreciative squeeze. "Can I be blamed for wanting to ravish my beautiful wife at every chance?" he growled.
His growing hardness pressed insistently against her belly, bidding her notice. Sansa bit her lip in a vain attempt to suppress a grin, charmed as ever by this man's unflagging passion and vigor.
"We'll be late, you shameless rogue," she reminded, even as her fingers played in the wiry hair dusting his chest.
As Sansa reminded him of duties awaiting, Gwayne's hands remained stubbornly on her shapely rear. He kneaded the pliant flesh, unable to resist the temptation she presented.
"Just a few moments more, wife, to savour you," he rumbled, nuzzling her neck. His growing arousal pressed demandingly against her belly once more.
Sansa bit back a moan, fingers fisting in his hair as Gwayne suckled the tender skin where neck met shoulder. The years had not dimmed his skill at reducing her to a quivering mess.
Seeking to regain control, she retaliated by grinding her hips down onto his rigid manhood. Gwayne hissed in pleasure, fingers flexing possessively over the globes filling his hands.
Sansa felt his cock twitch and swell impossibly larger at her teasing movements. She repeated the motion, eliciting a guttural groan from her husband.
"Minx," he growled, retaliating by squeezing her rear so firmly his fingers dimpled her flesh. Sansa keened softly, nipples pebbling as liquid heat pooled between her thighs once more.
Sansa turned in Gwayne's arms with a knowing smile, rolling to present her back to his eager gaze. She nestled against his hard chest with a sigh, wriggling her shapely rear tauntingly against his arousal.
Gwayne rewarded her boldness with a nip to her earlobe, eliciting a startled gasp. His hands spread widely to encompass her breasts, teasing her rosy nipples to stiff peaks as his cock twitched demandingly.
Guiding himself with one hand, Gwayne nudged the broad head of his manhood against Sansa's slick entrance. She shuddered at the intimate contact, parting her thighs further in wordless invitation.
As Gwayne pressed open-mouthed kisses down Sansa's neck, his throbbing cockhead nudged insistently at her puckered rear entrance. Her muscles resisted his initial breach, flinching deliciously tight around just the flushed tip of him.
Sansa whimpered, nails biting crescents into the furs beneath her clenching fists. Not from pain, but the exquisite fullness only he could induce. Gwayne paused, nuzzling her nape in quiet reassurance until she relaxed once more.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Gwayne worked just the engorged crown past Sansa's tight ring of muscle. She sighed blissfully at the exquisite stretch, her inner walls fluttering around the intrusion.
Pausing, he nuzzled her neck. "How does that please you, my love?"
"So full...more, I beg you, husband," Sansa breathed, desire overwhelming any lingering discomfort.
Gwayne obliged, inching deeper with practised care until he was fully sheathed in scalding velvet. They sighed together, lost in intimate connection.
Gwayne set a languid pace of shallow thrusts, his thick length almost withdrawing fully before sliding home once more. Each slow drag pulled whimpers from Sansa's lips, her inner walls clutching greedily at him.
Gwayne grasped Sansa's knees, pulling her pliant limbs higher until her thighs kissed her breasts and back arched tautly. The new angle allowed his rigid manhood to fully sheathe itself within her willing rear passage with each forceful roll of his hips.
Sansa keened as her husband's rigid manhood delved deeper than ever before, striking nerves she didn't know could feel such exquisite pleasure.
"Gwayne...there, please don't stop!" she cried, shuddering violently around his girth.
Gwayne rumbled his approval, taut muscles flexing powerfully with each forceful thrust. His balls slapped loudly against her swollen sex, stoking the flames of passion consuming them.
"You're so tight, my love, gripping me like a vice," he growled through gritted teeth, hips pistoning relentlessly.
Their flesh met with lewd, slapping sounds that echoed off the chamber walls and spurred them to ever greater heights of passion.
Years of intimacy had attuned them perfectly to each other's bodies and desires. Gwayne pistoned his rigid manhood into Sansa's tight passage with a punishing pace, dragging her to the razor's edge.
Sansa clawed at the furs, back bowed taut as an arrow as intense pleasure coiled low in her gut. "You're close, my love, let go for me," Gwayne growled in her ear.
At his command, Sansa screamed her completion, inner walls clamping down on his cock in powerful spasms. The exquisite sensation pulled Gwayne's own climax from him.
As their climaxes overtook them, Gwayne pistoned his rigid manhood into Sansa with frenzied abandon. His balls drew up impossibly tight, ready to flood her willing passage.
Sansa writhed and mewled beneath him like a she-wolf in heat, inner walls fluttering uncontrollably around his girth. The exquisite sensations pushed her higher, until—
"Come for me, wife!" Gwayne roared, sinking deep one final time.
Sansa's world exploded in a blinding white light. She threw her head back and screamed her completion to the heavens as waves of ecstasy engulfed her. Her sex convulsed powerfully around Gwayne's cock, milking him for all he was worth.
The sight and feel of Sansa unravelling around him was Gwayne's undoing. With a guttural howl, he flooded her bowels with thick ropes of his seed.
They clutched each other desperately as aftershocks wracked their frames. Sansa felt Gwayne pulse and twitch inside her with each ejection of his spend, filling her to overflowing.
Slowly, their climaxes ebbed, leaving them limp and sated. Gwayne softened within Sansa's still-quivering sheath, loathe to withdraw from her clinging velvet depths just yet.
Their hearts pounding as one, they lay locked in a sweat-slicked embrace, basking in the intimacy and fulfilment only true soulmates could experience in the throes of passion.
Sansa panted for breath in the aftermath of her shattering climax, limp and wrung out in Gwayne's arms. Never had she experienced such intense pleasure as when in the throes of passion with her soulmate.
Gwayne was equally spent, holding her close as they floated down from ecstatic heights together. His softening manhood remained nestled within her, loathe to leave her clinging velvet warmth just yet.
He nuzzled gentle kisses along her neck, murmuring words of love and devotion as Sansa slowly regained her senses. Her inner walls still fluttered deliciously around his girth, milking the last of his spend from within.
"You undo me so completely, wife," Gwayne rumbled, nipping her earlobe softly. His hands stroked soothingly over her sweat-slicked skin, helping ease the last of the delicious tremors racking her sated frame.
Sansa turned in his arms with a languid smile, cupping his bearded jaw to pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues twined lazily, tasting one another on the other's lips.
"And you fulfil me utterly, my love," she sighed, carding fingers through his tousled hair. "There could be no greater joy than finding release with you."
Sansa stood atop the battlements of Winterfell, a sense of serene pride enveloping her as she observed the training grounds below. The sun cast a golden hue across the courtyard, where young men, eager and determined, sparred under the watchful eye of her dear brother, Jon Snow.
Her gaze followed the movements of the young trainees. Among them were her sons, Torrhen and Edric, and Jon's son, the confident and capable young man named Eddard. They wielded swords with skill and determination, their forms shaped by the teachings passed down through generations.
Sansa smiled as she watched Jon instruct the boys, his voice echoing across the yard as he corrected stances and offered guidance. He had aged gracefully, his once raven-black hair now threaded with silver, but his spirit remained steadfast and strong, a testament to the resilience of the Stark bloodline.
"They're growing up so fast," Gwayne remarked, his voice filled with a blend of paternal pride and a hint of wistfulness.
Sansa nodded, her gaze still fixed on the courtyard below. "Yes, it seems like only yesterday they were cradled in our arms. And now, look at them, honing the skills of their father."
Gwayne's hand found its way to Sansa's shoulder, his touch reassuring and warm. "They're becoming fine young men, just as you envisioned."
"I'm proud of them," Sansa admitted, her voice carrying a genuine admiration for the legacy they were witnessing. "And Jon… he's been a remarkable mentor. Our children are fortunate to have him."
Gwayne's eyes, like hers, followed the movements of Jon in the courtyard. "He's always had a way with the sword. A true Stark."
Sansa turned to face Gwayne, his features softened by the dimming light. His hand, now tenderly tucked behind a strand of her hair, revealed the first hues of greying at her temples. He regarded her with an affectionate smile before gently pulling her into an embrace.
"Are you happy, Sansa?" Gwayne whispered, his voice carrying a deep well of concern and love.
Her arms found their place around him, the years etched in the lines of her face telling tales of joy, challenges, and endurance. "Yes, Gwayne," she replied, her voice a soft murmur against his shoulder. "At this moment, surrounded by our family and the legacy we've built, I am truly happy."
The courtyard buzzed with activity as the next generation of Starks and kin filled the air with youthful energy. The clashing of swords and the laughter of young men had been joined by the melodic chit-chat and laughter of the Stark daughters and Jon's own daughter, Lyarra. They strolled into the training grounds, their gowns flowing gracefully as they exchanged stories and giggles.
Sansa and Gwayne turned to witness this new tableau, a tableau of vibrant life, family, and the echoes of their own history. The daughters, now young women with a familiar glint of mischief in their eyes, stood alongside their fathers, sharing a moment that seemed to echo the past.
Lyarra, Jon's daughter, and Kyra, Torrhen, Edric, and Serena, Sansa and Gwayne's children, gathered in a small group. Their voices, a delightful blend of innocence and burgeoning wisdom, reached Sansa and Gwayne's ears.
"Did you see how Torrhen swung his sword? Like a true lord of Winterfell," one of the Stark daughters remarked, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
Lyarra, the youngest of the trio, chimed in, "And Edric, oh, he's quick on his feet. Father says he's the best dancer in Winterfell."
Gwayne chuckled, leaning in to Sansa. "Seems they've inherited some of your grace and my agility."
Sansa smiled, her eyes fondly fixed on the girls. "Indeed. And look at them enjoying each other's company. It's like witnessing our own history repeating itself."
The daughters, seemingly aware of the attention, looked up toward the battlements. Spotting their parents, they exchanged knowing smiles before approaching.
"Mother, Father," Kyra greeted, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes reminiscent of a young Sansa.
Sansa embraced Kyra, her gaze soft with maternal pride. "How was your day, my love?"
"Interesting," Kyra replied with a sly smile. "Torrhen and Edric had quite the sparring match. I think Edric will need some ice for his bruised ego."
Edric, overhearing this, interjected, "It's called strategy, Kyra. Not everyone can rely on brute strength."
The banter and laughter continued, weaving a tapestry of family and camaraderie. As they all stood on the castle grounds, the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the scene. Sansa felt a deep sense of contentment, surrounded by her children, her husband, and the enduring spirit of Winterfell.
Kyra's playful banter, a reflection of Arya's spirited nature, brought both amusement and a tinge of nostalgia to Sansa. The Stark daughters, vibrant and full of life, mirrored the beauty of the North itself. However, beneath her smile, there lingered a shadow of concern—a concern that was inextricably tied to the approaching grand tournament.
Sansa's mind danced between the joy of reuniting with Bran and Arya, the eager anticipation of the upcoming festivities, and the intricate web of emotions that came with the prospect of potential suitors for her daughters.
Her gaze drifted toward the open fields beyond Winterfell's walls, where the banners of houses from across Westeros would soon flutter in the wind. The tournament, planned in honour of her two decades as the Queen in the North, promised grandeur and spectacle. However, with it came the weighty matter of marriages.
As the matriarch of House Stark, Sansa desired happiness for her daughters, but her own journey through marriage had been fraught with hardship until she found Gwayne. The thought of subjecting her daughters to unions that might not bring them joy filled Sansa with a sense of unease.
Gwayne, sensing the turmoil in Sansa's thoughts, joined her at the battlements. His greying hair whispered of time, but his eyes still held the same warmth that had captivated Sansa years ago.
"Something troubles you, my love," Gwayne remarked, his hand gently finding hers.
Sansa sighed, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. "The tournament approaches, and with it, the prospect of suitors for our daughters. I want them to find love, not be bound by duty."
Gwayne squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll guide them, Sansa, just as we've guided our own path. Love and duty need not be mutually exclusive."
Her eyes met his, finding solace in the depths of his gaze. "I know, Gwayne. It's just that I want them to experience the kind of love we share, not settle for anything less."
Gwayne's lips curved into a soft smile. "They will, Sansa. Our family is strong, and the bonds we've forged will guide them."
The courtyard gradually emptied as the young Starks and their cousins concluded their training session. Sansa, her arm entwined with Gwayne's, observed the scene with a serene smile. The echoes of clashing swords and laughter were replaced by the calm murmur of conversations as they headed inside the castle.
Once within the walls, Sansa noticed a subtle shift in Serena's demeanour. Her usually reserved and demure daughter appeared to be captivated by a particular individual—Jon's son. Sansa found this unfolding interaction both endearing and amusing. She shared a knowing glance with Gwayne, recognizing the delicate dance of budding connections.
Serena, trailing a bit behind the others, kept stealing glances at Jon's son. Her cheeks carried a faint blush, and her gaze seemed to linger longer than usual. Sansa couldn't help but be charmed by her daughter's newfound interest.
As they entered the warmth of the castle, Gwayne leaned down to Sansa, his voice a soft murmur against her ear. "Our Serena seems to have found a subject of interest."
Sansa chuckled. "It appears so. Young love, or the beginnings of it, is always a sweet sight."
Gwayne grinned, his eyes reflecting the shared joy of witnessing their children grow. "Seems like Jon's son has caught her eye. Perhaps a friendship that could blossom into something more."
Sansa nodded. "If it brings her happiness, I'll welcome it."
The family gathered in the great hall for a shared meal, the laughter of the children mingling with the clinking of goblets. The atmosphere was one of familial warmth, the bonds between the Starks strengthening with each passing day.
At the table, Serena found a seat, strategically placed to steal glances at Jon's son. Her siblings exchanged amused glances, aware of the subtle game unfolding. Sansa, relishing the tableau of young hearts navigating the delicate dance of connection, couldn't help but feel a surge of maternal pride.
After the meal, as the young Starks dispersed, Serena found herself near Jon's son. Sansa observed from afar, her heart swelling with a mixture of nostalgia and anticipation. Gwayne, ever perceptive, placed a comforting hand on Sansa's shoulder.
"Times change, but some things remain constant," he mused.
Sansa leaned into the touch, her eyes never leaving the unfolding scene. "Indeed. Young hearts finding each other, just as we did."
As the evening continued, the castle buzzed with life, and Sansa couldn't shake the feeling that the tapestry of their family was weaving new threads. In the quiet corners and shared glances, the legacy of House Stark continued to unfold, guided by the enduring spirit of love and kinship.
In the fading light of her years, the walls of Winterfell held tales of a lifetime—a tapestry woven with the threads of Sansa Stark's reign and her enduring marriage to Gwayne. The hearths whispered stories of their journey, a legacy etched in time, as the North bore witness to the ebb and flow of history.
Sansa, once the youthful Queen in the North, had become the matriarch of the Starks, her rule marked by strength, resilience, and wisdom. Her bond with Gwayne, weathered by time's passage, stood as a testament to enduring love.
The halls echoed with the echoes of a life well-lived, generations nurtured by their benevolent gaze. The winds carried whispers of Sansa's fair and just reign, her unwavering commitment to her people.
Gwayne, now adorned with the weight of age but not diminished in spirit, remained Sansa's stalwart companion. His eyes, once bright with vigor, held a quiet warmth—a testament to the decades spent side by side with his beloved queen.
In the fading twilight, as Winterfell's shadows grew longer, the air carried the echoes of their shared laughter and the memories of trials faced together. The love that blossomed between Sansa and Gwayne had transcended the passing of seasons, its roots anchored deep within the walls of their shared history.
The North flourished under their steady guidance, the wisdom of their union seeping into every stone and shadow. The love they cultivated, the legacy they nurtured, stood as a beacon of hope in a world forever touched by change.
The formidable combination of Sansa's political acumen and Gwayne's stewardship transformed the North into a beacon of justice. The rule of law was justly applied, and the North became a realm where fairness prevailed. Their commitment to justice extended to the protection of the vulnerable, and the concept of a benevolent monarchy found a true manifestation in Winterfell.
But it wasn't just the political landscape that saw a renaissance. The arts flourished in the North, with poets and musicians finding inspiration in the stories of Queen Sansa and her court. The great hall of Winterfell echoed with the laughter of children, and the walls bore witness to the tapestry of a flourishing dynasty.
And as they stood hand in hand, weathered yet resolute, overlooking the lands they had ruled, they found solace in the shared memories of their enduring bond. The years had etched lines upon their faces, yet their love remained untouched by time's relentless passage.
In the final verses of their shared saga, the legacy of Sansa and Gwayne lived on—their story etched in the chronicles of Winterfell, a testament to a life lived with unwavering commitment and abiding love.
A lone wolf howled in the distance—a fitting tribute to the Red Wolf whose spirit now soared with the northern winds. Sansa's name, carried by the winds of time, would forever be whispered in the annals of the North—Queen Sansa, the Red Wolf, the Good.
And that's it, this is my epilogue; I hope you liked it. I purposely left a few things open, so if I ever feel like writing a sequel, I already have a proper angle; but nothing is planned yet.
As always, if you liked this story, please consider leaving a comment or follow and favourite. I hope I see you soon for my next work in this fandom.
I would like to thank everybody who read this story and special thanks to everybody who reviewed, followed and favourited this story
THANKS to everybody, I love you all.
Orceanos, 18th of January 2024
Auf Wiedersehen
Good bye
sayonara