A Holiday by Decree
~~Day 11~~
Reaching down to take Tyrion's right hand seemed an easy choice, and Sansa noted how even such initial ministrations drew his breath.
Tyrion's hand was thick and warm between her slender ones. He wore no rings on this hand, but she smiled, as her fingers found a well-developed callus on the inside of his middle finger, much like her own - the sign of a dutiful writer. Finally, though they had been outside most of the day, she found his nails otherwise well-cared for.
Already, Sansa liked Tyrion's hands. Though she longed to know more touches from them, she put his hand down to trail her fingertips over the upturned inside of his wrist.
Another sigh from him once again made her blush.
Higher up, along Tyrion's bicep and gradually sweeping around his shoulder and chest, Sansa found clearly muscular dips and rises beneath his shirt. His regular, off-hand comments had warned her that he was self-conscious of his body, a feeling all too-familiar to Sansa. She wanted to make sure he understood her exploration left her tantalized.
Unthinkingly taken up with her fantasies, Sansa let her hand graze lower on his abdomen, following the path of his quilted jerkin's silk and dark-lacquered toggle closures.
Abruptly, his flesh dropped away from her hand. Startled, Sansa turned her head.
He released a gusty breath, though his eyes remained shut. "My lady, I am enjoying your touches, but if you venture lower… it may be hard to say what could happen," he warned with a nervous smile.
A new rush of heat filled Sansa: her fingertips rested at his belt, where it sat low around his waist.
Naturally, Sansa knew all too well what was down there - and of course, she was curious about it. Yet, having never been allowed to touch a partner so openly, it was not in her experience that such gentle touches could inspire that kind of reaction…
"Oh, sorry," she breathed a bit sheepishly. His quip reassured her: "Apologies hardly seem appropriate when it comes to making a person feel too good."
Sansa gave a light snort and a smile. While she had planned to trace his legs, reversing back up seemed wiser... at least for the moment.
Trailing her fingers up his side, she brushed his left arm and pathed a way along the crook of his neck. She enjoyed another satisfied groan from Tyrion as she teased the whiskers at his jawbone.
Adventurous, she dipped her fingertips into the soft, dark-gold curls behind his ear. Her thumb merely brushed the lobe, but she felt him thrill, and her heart swelled with glee.
An idea crossed Sansa's mind, and her heart thudded when he leaned momentarily into her hand at her withdrawing touch.
Feeling heady at all the signs of his desire, Sansa placed the loose ends of her hair over her shoulder. Softly, she leaned in until her lips feathered the scar on his cheek and traced her way to grace his lips with a kiss.