got_exchange fic
Title: Interlude in the Woods
Author: madamechataya
For: sahara_storm
Pairings/Characters: Margaery/Sansa, minor Dany/Irri/Jhiqui
Rating: M
Words: 1031
Summary: Margaery and Sansa are lost in the woods. They make the most of their time alone together.
A hundred hunters in the Kingswood and somehow they've managed to get lost. Then sunlight breaks through the leaves and puts such a glow on Sansa Stark's russet hair and rosy skin that Margaery can't help but pull her close and kiss her. This is how they managed to lose their party to begin with, she thinks ruefully, sneaking away to steal kisses.
But she is heady with love, so instead of trying to rejoin their companions, she gives Sansa a suggestive smile and takes the reins of her mare from her. She ties their horses to a low tree branch and reaches for her lover.
"All alone in the woods," Sansa murmurs. "What if we're set upon by outlaws?"
Daenerys Targaryen has been swift and brutal in establishing order in the realm. The Seven Kingdoms are now even safer than they'd been in Robert's day. There is no real worry about outlaws. "They'll have to wait their turns," Margaery says. She plants a kiss on Sansa's neck, and she begins to unlace her bodice. "They'll find the fair northern lass already being ravished."
Sansa's nipples are as pretty as the first berries of spring and she moans so sweetly when Margaery suckles them. Margaery wants to feast upon her for hours and hours, but she knows a Tyrell and a Stark will not be allowed to remain lost for very long. So she hastily slides her hand beneath Sansa's skirts and smiles at finding her already moist. "You randy wench."
"I've thought of nothing all day but you throwing up my skirts."
"You insatiable minx. I frigged you for a good hour last night."
Sansa only smiles and spreads her legs further apart. She likes to talk while Margaery uses her hands and mouth on her. No one would suspect what an imagination the proper northern lady has. She begins to describe her latest fantasy as Margaery finds a rhythm.
"The queen summoned me one evening and dismissed all others."
Margaery nips her in warning. She is a jealous woman and she'll not share her lover even in thought.
"All but her Dothraki serving girls. 'You have been a widow a long time, Sansa,' she said to me.
"I feared she sought to make a marriage for me, to her benefit, but thankfully it was not so. 'A woman has needs, the same as a man,' she said, 'but we have less freedom to fulfill our needs. A man can have lovers freely, or use whores, but a woman can only marry; all other avenues are said to bring shame to her.'
"No proper highborn Westerosi woman would speak of such things, but that was not my concern. I hastened to remind Her Grace that I had vowed not to wed until Winterfell stood high again and that construction had only recently started.
"'Have no fear on that account, Sansa,' she assured me. 'I worry your reputation will be compromised and I cannot have that.' Before I could swear that I would never disgrace myself, she continued, 'The Pretender's spies still seek to sow discord. They whisper that my court is a den of iniquity and the nobles listen. My ways are too foreign for some to ever love me. I cannot allow any scandal to plague young noblewomen in my charge.'"
This is a long-winded tale. No one is naked and nothing sordid has happened yet. Margaery would question the point of the story if she had not just found that spot inside Sansa. She listens absently as she crooks her fingers.
"'I have knights fighting duels over you practically every week. And the way you danced with that Fossoway boy at the last feast. Sansa, your desires are nothing to be ashamed of, but you must be careful how you satisfy them. Take Irri as your handmaiden. Let her help you satisfy your desires, as she once did for me.'
"I did not understand, so she showed me. Her maid, Irri, went to her and kissed her upon the lips. They kissed as lovers do. Then the other one, Jhiqui, joined them. Together the two Dothraki girls undressed the queen. When she was naked, they each suckled a teat. I confess, I wished very much to feel such a thing myself."
The story is shaping up to be one of Sansa's more debauched fantasies. Margaery stops frigging her, easing her back from the brink of orgasm, and tweaks her nipples. Sansa loves having her breasts played with, and Margaery is happy to indulge her.
A jarring horn sounds in the distance, a reminder that they are not carefree woodland nymphs. Riders will find them soon. Margaery draws out the square of silk she keeps in her bosom and quickly chews the mint leaf within. She wipes her face and hands, and dabs at the overflow of moisture on Sansa's thighs.
"How does the story end?" she asks. She helps Sansa to lace her bodice.
"I convinced the queen I didn't need her maid to pleasure me by telling her I already had a devoted servant to tend to my needs."
Something about the way Sansa said it gives her pause. She wonders, "Was that a true story?"
Sansa gives her a smile of faux innocence. "On my honor, every word was true."
She'll think later about what to do with the information about the queen pleasuring herself with her serving girls. Margaery has just a moment more alone with Sansa. The hunting party is almost upon them. "Your devoted servant, am I? Wicked wench." She unpins her golden rose brooch and wraps it in the silk, and quickly slides it deep inside Sansa. "Keep this for now. Tonight I will properly remind you who is mistress."
They are rescued before Sansa has a chance to form a reply. Her brother Loras is among the group who finds them and he gives her a knowing look. "Enjoyed yourself?" he whispers, as he helps her to mount her mare.
Margaery truly loves Sansa, as her brother once loved Renly. But they are Tyrells before all else. "Lady Sansa shared a very interesting story."
Author: madamechataya
For: sahara_storm
Pairings/Characters: Margaery/Sansa, minor Dany/Irri/Jhiqui
Rating: M
Words: 1031
Summary: Margaery and Sansa are lost in the woods. They make the most of their time alone together.
A hundred hunters in the Kingswood and somehow they've managed to get lost. Then sunlight breaks through the leaves and puts such a glow on Sansa Stark's russet hair and rosy skin that Margaery can't help but pull her close and kiss her. This is how they managed to lose their party to begin with, she thinks ruefully, sneaking away to steal kisses.
But she is heady with love, so instead of trying to rejoin their companions, she gives Sansa a suggestive smile and takes the reins of her mare from her. She ties their horses to a low tree branch and reaches for her lover.
"All alone in the woods," Sansa murmurs. "What if we're set upon by outlaws?"
Daenerys Targaryen has been swift and brutal in establishing order in the realm. The Seven Kingdoms are now even safer than they'd been in Robert's day. There is no real worry about outlaws. "They'll have to wait their turns," Margaery says. She plants a kiss on Sansa's neck, and she begins to unlace her bodice. "They'll find the fair northern lass already being ravished."
Sansa's nipples are as pretty as the first berries of spring and she moans so sweetly when Margaery suckles them. Margaery wants to feast upon her for hours and hours, but she knows a Tyrell and a Stark will not be allowed to remain lost for very long. So she hastily slides her hand beneath Sansa's skirts and smiles at finding her already moist. "You randy wench."
"I've thought of nothing all day but you throwing up my skirts."
"You insatiable minx. I frigged you for a good hour last night."
Sansa only smiles and spreads her legs further apart. She likes to talk while Margaery uses her hands and mouth on her. No one would suspect what an imagination the proper northern lady has. She begins to describe her latest fantasy as Margaery finds a rhythm.
"The queen summoned me one evening and dismissed all others."
Margaery nips her in warning. She is a jealous woman and she'll not share her lover even in thought.
"All but her Dothraki serving girls. 'You have been a widow a long time, Sansa,' she said to me.
"I feared she sought to make a marriage for me, to her benefit, but thankfully it was not so. 'A woman has needs, the same as a man,' she said, 'but we have less freedom to fulfill our needs. A man can have lovers freely, or use whores, but a woman can only marry; all other avenues are said to bring shame to her.'
"No proper highborn Westerosi woman would speak of such things, but that was not my concern. I hastened to remind Her Grace that I had vowed not to wed until Winterfell stood high again and that construction had only recently started.
"'Have no fear on that account, Sansa,' she assured me. 'I worry your reputation will be compromised and I cannot have that.' Before I could swear that I would never disgrace myself, she continued, 'The Pretender's spies still seek to sow discord. They whisper that my court is a den of iniquity and the nobles listen. My ways are too foreign for some to ever love me. I cannot allow any scandal to plague young noblewomen in my charge.'"
This is a long-winded tale. No one is naked and nothing sordid has happened yet. Margaery would question the point of the story if she had not just found that spot inside Sansa. She listens absently as she crooks her fingers.
"'I have knights fighting duels over you practically every week. And the way you danced with that Fossoway boy at the last feast. Sansa, your desires are nothing to be ashamed of, but you must be careful how you satisfy them. Take Irri as your handmaiden. Let her help you satisfy your desires, as she once did for me.'
"I did not understand, so she showed me. Her maid, Irri, went to her and kissed her upon the lips. They kissed as lovers do. Then the other one, Jhiqui, joined them. Together the two Dothraki girls undressed the queen. When she was naked, they each suckled a teat. I confess, I wished very much to feel such a thing myself."
The story is shaping up to be one of Sansa's more debauched fantasies. Margaery stops frigging her, easing her back from the brink of orgasm, and tweaks her nipples. Sansa loves having her breasts played with, and Margaery is happy to indulge her.
A jarring horn sounds in the distance, a reminder that they are not carefree woodland nymphs. Riders will find them soon. Margaery draws out the square of silk she keeps in her bosom and quickly chews the mint leaf within. She wipes her face and hands, and dabs at the overflow of moisture on Sansa's thighs.
"How does the story end?" she asks. She helps Sansa to lace her bodice.
"I convinced the queen I didn't need her maid to pleasure me by telling her I already had a devoted servant to tend to my needs."
Something about the way Sansa said it gives her pause. She wonders, "Was that a true story?"
Sansa gives her a smile of faux innocence. "On my honor, every word was true."
She'll think later about what to do with the information about the queen pleasuring herself with her serving girls. Margaery has just a moment more alone with Sansa. The hunting party is almost upon them. "Your devoted servant, am I? Wicked wench." She unpins her golden rose brooch and wraps it in the silk, and quickly slides it deep inside Sansa. "Keep this for now. Tonight I will properly remind you who is mistress."
They are rescued before Sansa has a chance to form a reply. Her brother Loras is among the group who finds them and he gives her a knowing look. "Enjoyed yourself?" he whispers, as he helps her to mount her mare.
Margaery truly loves Sansa, as her brother once loved Renly. But they are Tyrells before all else. "Lady Sansa shared a very interesting story."