medicalling | Open Post

"That... is not necessary." Even though his body was viscerally attuned to her and wanted nothing more than to keep touching her, keep being touched. He's grateful he still has his sleep pants on- for now. But her straddling him, sitting over him was a sight that he found himself quite taken by. The windows had the shades pulled down, but it was still light enough out that the light slipping through was making her hair turn into his own personal sunset. "You are heavenly, my little dove."

"Perhaps not necessary but wanted," Sansa says, sliding her hand down his abdomen to rest just above the waistband of his pants. She can feel the hard muscle there and she thinks she's never seen a man more beautiful even without his glamour.

"For you do want it, do you not?"

"Yes," he hissed out, shifting slightly as he felt her tease at the band of his pants, licking his lips as he looked up at her. His hands had moved to her thighs, drawing little curlicues and circles along her legs from knees to upper thighs. Just teasing, but enjoying it with her looking at him like that. All proud and assured.

"What shall I do about this predicament?" Sansa asks, tilting her head a bit to be coy. "Because it appears that there is a problem I can solve."

It seems easier to be playful with him now and perhaps the blindfold had done wonders for her.

"You seem like you've a steady head on your shoulders. I imagine you can come up with something." Some protective part of him still wanted to shut the idea down, but seeing her smile at him, that look like she was being a coquette had him incapable of doing anything to crush that light.

Sansa sits back on his thighs for a moment and pulls down his sleep pants, not surprised to see that he has an impressive erection. She could feel it just now and knew that he'd wanted her but it is nice to see it.

Sansa wraps her hand around his length. "Now, I will need a bit of guidance here."

He has to bite his lip to keep the sound in, but it rumbles in his chest as her hand wraps around him. His hands are on her thighs, gripping there as she sends those impossible jolts of pleasure through him with just a touch. "You could just hold it like that and I could die happy."

"Well, I do not wish for you to die," Sansa says softly. "I shall do what I think will feel the best."

Sansa knows what to do and knows how to do it with enough proficiency to avoid a punishment but she does not want to mention Ramsay just now in this beautiful moment between she and her fated mate. She instead wraps her hand around him and pumps it a bit, judging his reaction.

His hand moves to wrap around hers; not to stop, but to slow. He doesn't want this to be over too quickly, and he's already sensitive from the scent of her in the air, the taste of her pleasure still heavy in his mouth. "Slow, for now, if you please. Your hands are soft and warm. Lovely."

His cock was achingly hard, and there was a pulse as he rocked a little upward into her grip.

"Slow, then," Sansa says, gentling her hand under his guidance. She brushes her thumb over the head of his cock and looks at him from under lowered lashes. She's never done this when she wanted to do it and she doesn't know exactly how it goes or what she should do in a consensual moment.

"Kiss me."

That touch to the tip had him shifting his hips a bit in response, an unbidden movement to just how good it felt. Looking up at her and that gaze she was giving him, he felt his heart start to race. Then that demand- Fates, how could he deny her?

He sat up without his hands, abdomen flexing as he sat up to tip his chin up, sink a hand into the riot of her hair and drag her into a kiss. He could do this for hours. Days. Spend the rest of his life catering to her needs.

Sansa kisses him deeply and moves her hand, stroking slowly along the length of him. She looks up, cheeks flushed, and gives him a little smile.

"There is something else I know how to do," she murmurs, hand still stroking him. "Will you let me?"

His other hand is at her back, holding her, smoothing up along her body as he feels that blaze of pleasure. He's lost in the taste of her for a moment before she speaks, and it takes him a moment to recognize the word pattern as a question. "I am yours. Entirely."

The mystery of what she knew, what she might do was running in circles in his brain.

Sansa has never done this before willingly but she knows how to do it and well enough to bring a man to completion so she wants to do so for Rowan because she cares about him and wants to make him happy. She slides down and takes him into her mouth, tongue pressed against the head of his cock.

Her hair is a mess all over his lap, red rivulets, and her mouth is soft as she takes him in.

Somehow, he hadn't expected that. The firm warmth of her hand was replaced with the silken wet of her mouth and he grabbed the sheet to twist it in his grip as he let out a sound of pure surprised, greedy pleasure.

He can't lay down, even if he wants to, because her hair is all over him and he just wants to touch it. Touch her. Try not to rock upward further as he feels uncertain as to where to put his hands and what to do. Pleasure is crashing through his brain and making him incredibly slow to think in the moment. "Sansa, sweet Christ. Oh, love."

Sansa thinks that is a good sign that she is in fact good at this even though she might have learned in a way that was...not so good. She relaxes her throat and takes him in deeper, sucking as she goes. She does not know exactly what Rowan likes but she wants to find out.

She needs to find out.

She cups his hips in her hands and guides him up to her mouth, encouraging him to take his pleasure from her.

He won't last. He can't. She's sweet and yet there's something there that speaks of practice, and he shoves that thought violently aside. Ramsay has no room here in their bedroom, not between them. This is his and hers alone. His hand is in her hair, touching because he can't not, and he lets out a ragged sound that's half caught in his throat. "Heart of mine, I can't... I'm not going to last. You should move," he cautioned, feeling his toes curl and his thighs tense up as the pleasure started to build.

Sansa doesn't want to move if he's close and she reluctantly pulls her mouth away, looking up at him with soft eyes. Her mouth is swollen from kissing him and sucking his cock and she touches his face lightly.

"Why should I stop?"

A soft laugh, and he cups her face, bringing his mouth down to hers to kiss her before he answers. "Because I'm about to spill over into your mouth and that's... sometimes an acquired taste. I can spill onto myself and clean up."

"I don't mind it," Sansa assures him. "You should do whatever brings you the most pleasure. That is what I would like to give you."

Sansa wraps her hand back around his length and pumps him quickly, trying to get him to finish on her.

He was already on the cusp, and her hand around him was like an electric shock of pleasure. His eyes rolled back and he reached for her, holding the back of her neck as he rested his lips against hers. "Sansa..." His voice was strained, barely able to get out her name before he felt his hips buck upward. His cock throbbed in her grip, his orgasm causing that thick white liquid to spill out over her hand, over his thigh and stomach. "Sweet Fates," he groaned, kissing her hungrily as he had to remind himself not to just roll her over and mount her like he wanted to.

"I will always be yours," Sansa says. "Even if I am not completely yours yet." Sansa doesn't know if she can take him right now but she wants to. She wants to consummate their bond and give Rowan what he wants so desperately but she doesn't want to do it until she's sure she won't be afraid. This is already a big step.

"I cannot express to you how much I care for you."

"You express it enough. In your touch. Your trust," he said, voice light as he brushed her hair back to look in her eyes. "I adore you. And that will only get stronger with each day. Let me clean myself and I'll come join you back here. You need more sleep, and then we'll discuss things in the light of day, aye?"

"All right," Sansa says softly. "Just know that you needn't worry about me swallowing. I am perfectly capable of doing so. Unless you prefer it that way?"

Sansa only wants to do what feels good for both of them, after all, and does not wish to displease him while chasing her own pleasure.

He laughed, kissing her again and then slowly disentangling himself. His pants were still on, though tugged down, and he held them away from himself as he went over to the bathroom. He talked to her as he cleaned himself. "I will always worry about you. I want you to find what pleases you. What you enjoy. Not what you feel you're expected to. You've had quite enough of that, thank you."

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