Sansa

Lady Sansa looked very unsure of herself, standing in his room wearing her nightgown and tugging awkwardly at her braid. The grown she wore was a thin thing and Jon got a better sense of her figure, pleased to see the young woman had developed in the right places.

“Lady Sansa,” he asked, clearing his throat, “what is it?” He sat up a little more, allowing his chest and abdomen to show enough to get a blush out of her, “is there something wrong?”

The girl blushed again and looked away, “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you My Prince, but I couldn’t sleep and...” she bit her bottom lip, “I was wondering if I might sit in here with you for a bit. I did not get to speak much at the feast and I would love to hear stories of the south.”

Jon kept his face neutral but internally he was laughing like a fool. It was clear that the girl was utterly infatuated with him and sought to be near him. He smiled kindly, “Why yes, My Lady, come sit by me if it’ll help.”

The girl hurried to his side in the bed and pulled the covers over them both. He laid back and felt her delightfully soft body press against him. “Tell me of the tourneys back South,”

“Well,” Jon put his arm around the young woman and pulled her a little closer, “they’re usually grand affairs, with dozens of knights and lordlings competing.”

“Have you ever competed, My Prince?” She asked innocently. “Father says you are well trained at arms.”

“I have won a few of the melees,” Jon replied, enjoying the way her blue eyes widened adoringly, “Though I am merely a serviceable jouster. But the events are large, often spanning days with people from all over the country arriving to celebrate. The Capitol is usually abuzz with excitement the weeks it is hosted.”

Sansa rested her head against Jon’s shoulder. “I wish I could see them some day...”

“Maybe you will,” Jon smiled at her, “you’d do well in the south. You’re more beautiful than most of the ladies there by half.”

The Stark girl blushed madly, looking utterly flustered, “You...think I’m beautiful?”

Jon leaned in close, “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on,” and with that he kissed her. Not with too much enthusiasm, but enough to slowly coax a little pleasure. She was very inexperienced, but as his hand slowly reached into her small clothes and began caressing the swell of her ass she began to moan softly and lean into his touches, her mouth opening a little more to invite in his tongue in. His ministrations continued for a time, but then he broke off, leaving the girl flustered and heaving.

“I am sorry My Lady,” he said, taking a breath, “ I do not mean to dishonour you.”

Her eyes widened. “You haven’t! I mean...you didn’t,” She struggled for words, “I...liked it.”

“I liked it too My Lady,” Jon’s tone was remorseful, his expression ****, “but as much as I may want to...do more with you, I cannot take your Maidenhood. Only your husband would be allowed that, and that is a man I envy more than anything.”

Sansa looked at with eyes full of longing. “I am not betrothed....I could, ask my father about you,” she kept her eyes on him, her body subconsciously rubbing against him, “You could ask for my hand, I know he’d agree, and then we could be together.”

Jon felt triumphant, the girl was easier to play than a drum. He smiled kindly. “Then you must return to your own bed, My Lady, and tomorrow we shall speak of this with your father.”

Reluctantly she left his bed, her body flushed, her nipples erect and perhaps the faintest hint of dampness in her small clothes. He bid her good and laughed to himself once she left; if he played things right, he might well have Sansa Stark as his wife and eager cock slut by the end of the week.