A Holiday by Decree
~~Day 11~~
Seeing that his touches could so immediately soothe Sansa filled Tyrion with not only pride but deep happiness and hope. He had expected to wait some time or perhaps forever for her. At the understanding that time might be sooner and realer than he thought, Tyrion willed himself to focus and cool his growing excitement.
Having reached her neck, Tyrion paused to work the tense muscles there, as he had along her shoulder. He had always loved Sansa's neck. Long, pale and slender, her neck had always been one of her most regal features. Even as a girl, it was only one of her features that made the heads of the nobles in King's Landing turn (at least before her branding as "traitor's daughter" and subsequently "the Imp's wife" possessed their attention more).
Even Tyrion himself, to his chagrin, had been among those to admire her back then… It was when he found himself suddenly married to her though that he found a sense of principle within himself that he had not previously known existed. Even if she had not been far too young for him back then, the thought of forcing himself on her after what his family had done to the Starks had turned his stomach.
All this made him wish to worship her all the more now that, grown, this gorgeous, resilient woman was actively inviting him into her life. The thought filled him with courage enough to finally pick up a gleaming lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder. Headily, he brought it to his nose. His eyes fell shut, as he reveled freely in her perfume.
"Gods, you are beautiful," he breathed, when he reopened his eyes to the sight of her watching him, her expression open and her eyes alluringly dark with fascination. Softly, he placed the locks of her hair back on her shoulder before gently tracing the edge of one milky clavicle to her chest.
Sansa took a deep breath, and Tyrion gave her a warm look. He longed to know the feel of her breasts, but first he wanted Sansa to know only safety and pleasure from his touch. Tenderly, Tyrion brought his fingertips to skim the outer curve of her left breast but let his thumb press a bit more firmly only once it reached the first rib beneath. He felt he had managed the fine line of teasing her; though Sansa remained quiet, he relished her obvious blushes and the excited rise of her diaphragm into his touch.
Emboldened, he drew a deliberate line with his thumb down her breastbone, but when he reached the soft plain of her flat belly, he brought his touch back to trace along her left bottom rib. He finished with an open hand, cupping her side to end with a careful, heated squeeze to her outer hip.
And once again he marveled at how she felt as soft and lavish in his palm, as she had in his dreams.