Trust (GOT fanfic)

Bargaining

A man cleared his throat and she jumped back with a quit screech. Petyr sat with his smirk and his eye brow quirked upward.

"Not very lady like to offer your self to a man you're not married to." His eyes visibly darkened while he looked at her. "But then again, I suppose you've some clever excuse to cover up your intentions? Waiting for you hand maiden to bathe you was it?"

"Not an excuse!" Sansa hurried to pull her woolen gown up from the ground. "She'd just been here filling my bath."

"Yes, I know." He nodded taking a step toward her. "I told her to. And then I told her that she should prepare for the feast and you could bathe your self for today. She'll return in an hour to dress you, I imagine."

"Why would I bathe myself?" Sansa asked cautiously. She was panicking internally. She'd been too inviting earlier. Her seductions had convinced him to come to her chamber, searching for something.

"You wont," Baelish shook his head a fraction, his eyes gleamed in the dimming light of the sun. "I'll help you. I came to assist with the dye."

He wiggled the contents of a dark bottle at her. "It's a new kind. Different than the others, you'll need help to apply it. However for the sake of modesty, I'll ask that you at least keep your shift on for the process."

Sansa sighed in relief and set her woolen dress to the side. This shift was new and meant for winter. It was thick and not too revealing, though the silk still hugged her curves. She could tell he was watching the way it smoothed over the rounding of her hips and breasts. Sansa was used to Petyr showing no shame in his affections for her form.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish." She walked toward the large metal tub, the steam from the water warming her as she neared. Petyr met her there, he dipped his hands in the water and looked to her expectantly.

"Bend over." He commanded, a wet hand resting on her shoulder helping her lean over the tub.

He began to run the dye through her hair in long streaks with his fingers. She could see Petyr's hands dip into the water to the side of her head, long and graceful. His fingers massaged Sansa's scalp in soothing circles, and she relaxed under his touch. She leaned down more heavily on the side of the tub, her body elongating behind her. Sansa could feel his thigh brush past her bum. His fingers hesitated and her entire body tightened at the contact. What was he meaning to do, standing so close back there. She had merely re-positioned herself, not shoved her ass against him. His soothing finger continued their path through her locks and she relaxed once again. He turned her head to the side with his fingers so he might have better access to her temples.

The warm water and the massage had worked her into a quite relaxation. She didnt even notice the moan escape through her lips until it had reached her ears. Her eyes snapped open and she couldnt help but smile. How could the Stark forget her plans? She was being foolish, she could have him in her grips again. Petyr Baelish was a man sorely in need of being put in his place, and Sansa Stark fancied she was the one to do it.

A surge of adventure pulsed through her and she started searching for contact with her rear. There just behind her rested his thigh. Instead of drawing away, this time she shimmied closer to it, careful to let out another little sound of pleasure. He positioned himself loosely, one leg between hers. Her grin widened, one more little shove and her cheeks were flush against the his cock.

Petyr let out a growl, his hand tangling in her hair and pulling roughly. She gasped in pain, her spine arching while her head tilted backward. His other hand fell aware from her hair and to her kneck. Sansa let out a small whine, fear leaking through her limbs at their proximity.

He chuckled from behind her, "Dont bargain with what you arent willing to give."

His voice came out gruff and just near her ear. Her skin raised in goose bumps and as he began to pull away she felt him thrust lightly against the back of her. Her mouth fell open in a sigh that she knew he heard. Sansa straightened her back and turned to him. Petyr had retreated to the other side of the tub, washing his hands in the basin gently.

He looked past Sansa when his eyes raised, focusing on her nightstand. Petyr covered the distance and picked the book up, turning it in his palms.

"Reading up, are you?" He sat down heavily on her bed. "I dont suppose you'd mind if I stayed here to read a little myself?"

She merely blinked and in return he let out a little chuckle. Baelish stood and pulled a divided in front of the tub and her. Sansa heard him sit on the bed and the book opening as she stood stock still on the other end of the curtained divider.

"Go on, sweetling. Rinse out the dye now and get washed up. I'll merely be sitting and waiting for you.

So he tormented her on the side of the heavy drapes. She could hear him breathing, turning pages, shifting, all while she tried to focus on cleaning herself. When her hand maiden finally arrived he didnt move a muscle. Instead, he sat just as he had, chipping away at the huge volume in his lap. Her hand maiden had dressed her in the green gown before they both heard the door open. He left with some parting courtesy, promising to see her at dinner.

As the door latched shut, Sansa felt herself breathe again. Per usual they had remained separated by just a mere piece of cloth. Something built in her throat at first she thought it was how anxious she was to wear the scandalous gown, but then she realized it had been there while he rubbed her hair. It was excitement, something she didnt think she'd truly feel again.