The library at Winterfell creaked with ancient wood and whispered secrets as Sansa Stark's fingers traced the spine of a dusty tome. The candlelight cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the steel in her blue eyes. She had deliberately chosen this setting - neutral ground, away from the prying eyes of advisors and soldiers. When Daenerys entered, the temperature seemed to drop despite the roaring hearth. The Dragon Queen moved like liquid silver, her white-gold hair catching the firelight. Her steps were measured, deliberate, each click of her boots against stone a declaration of power.
"Lady Stark," Daenerys said, her voice carrying that particular blend of honey and steel that had won her followers across the Narrow Sea. "You wished to speak with me alone?"
Sansa turned, her dark dress rustling. "Your Grace. Thank you for coming." She gestured to two chairs positioned near the fire. "Please, sit with me." They settled into their seats like two predators sizing each other up. The firelight played across their faces - ice and fire incarnate.
"Wine?" Sansa offered, reaching for a decanter of Dornish red.
"Thank you." Daenerys accepted the cup, but didn't drink. "I must admit, I'm curious about this private audience you've requested."
Sansa took a measured sip before speaking. "We need to address the dragon in the room, Your Grace. The North. My brother. Our future."
"Your brother has bent the knee. The North is mine by right and by his oath," Daenerys replied, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her cup.
"Jon made his choice," Sansa acknowledged, her voice level. "But the North remembers. They've bled too much, lost too many sons to southern rulers. They need more than just another monarch's word."
Daenerys leaned forward slightly, her violet eyes intense. "I am not just another monarch, Lady Stark. I've freed slaves, broken chains-"
"And burned those who opposed you," Sansa finished quietly. "As did my father's father. As did many who sat on the Iron Throne. The North needs to see you as more than just another conqueror with a powerful army." A loaded silence fell between them. In the distance, one of Daenerys's dragons screamed into the night sky.
"You're very direct, Lady Stark," Daenerys said finally, a hint of admiration colouring her tone. "Most people approach me with flattery and fear."
"We don't have time for games, Your Grace. The dead march on us. After that - if we survive - we need stability. The North needs autonomy while remaining loyal to the crown. I need assurances that my people's sacrifices will be honoured."
Daenerys stood, walking to the fire. The flames reflected in her eyes as she spoke. "When I was a girl, sold like cattle to a horse lord, I learned that true power lies not in making people kneel, but in making them want to stand beside you." She turned back to Sansa. "What would you suggest?" Sansa rose as well, her height matching the Dragon Queen's. "A council. Northern representatives having a voice in matters that affect their lands. Trade agreements that benefit both North and South. And your word - your true word, not just as a queen, but as a woman who understands what it means to rebuild from ashes - that the North's culture and ways will be respected."
"And in return?"
"The North's loyalty. My loyalty. Not just because my brother bent the knee, but because we choose to stand with you. Because we believe in the world you want to build." Their eyes met across the fire lit space - two women who had survived abuse, betrayal, and loss to emerge stronger. Two leaders who understood that real power lay in knowing when to bend and when to stand firm.
Daenerys moved closer, close enough that Sansa could see the subtle shades of purple in her eyes. "Your father died because he believed in honour above politics. Yet here you are, his daughter, playing the game better than most."
"I learned from my enemies," Sansa replied. "As did you."
A ghost of a smile touched Daenerys's lips. "Perhaps we're not so different after all, Lady Stark." She extended her hand. "Let's talk details."
"The fishing rights along White Harbour-" Sansa's voice trailed off as she noticed Daenerys had fallen silent. The Dragon Queen was staring at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. The firelight played across them both as the hour grew later, the library growing more intimate with each passing moment.
"Your hair," Daenerys said softly, abandoning pretence. "It reminds me of dragon fire when it catches the light. Living flame."
Sansa felt heat rise to her cheeks, but held the violet gaze. "I was just thinking about your eyes, Your Grace. I've never seen their like. Even in the dim light, they're... extraordinary."
"Daenerys," the Dragon Queen corrected gently. "Please. We've moved beyond titles, haven't we?"
The air between them crackled with something electric. Sansa found herself leaning forward slightly, drawn by an invisible thread. "Daenerys, then." They had moved closer during their negotiations, their chairs now mere feet apart. A scroll of trade agreements lay forgotten on the table between them. Daenerys reached out, hesitantly, then with more confidence, to touch a strand of Sansa's auburn hair that had escaped its careful styling.
"In Essos," she murmured, "they say that those kissed by fire are lucky." Her fingers lingered, tracing the length of the strand. "Though I doubt luck had much to do with your survival. You're like me - you forged yourself in the flames of your enemies."
Sansa's breath hitched at the touch. "We both learned to wear masks," she said softly. "To smile and bow and say the right words while planning our next move."
"And now?" Daenerys's hand moved to cup Sansa's cheek, her touch warm against the northern chill. "What masks are we wearing now?"
"None," Sansa whispered. She found herself drowning in those violet eyes, seeing in them the same loneliness, the same strength she carried in her own heart. "For the first time in years, perhaps none at all."
Daenerys's thumb traced Sansa's lower lip, feather-light. "The North is cold," she said, her voice husky. "But you... you burn as hot as any dragon."
Sansa's hand found Daenerys's waist, drawing her closer. The Dragon Queen's breath was warm against her lips. "Fire and ice," Sansa murmured. "Perhaps that's what the realm needs. Balance."
"Is that what we're discussing now? The realm?" Daenerys's smile was both playful and predatory. Her other hand tangled in Sansa's hair, sending shivers down her spine.
"No," Sansa admitted. "Not any more." She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to Daenerys's in a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something more fierce. Daenerys tasted of wine and smoke and destiny.
The Dragon Queen pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire. "The North may not approve of their Lady kissing a Targaryen."
"The North follows my lead," Sansa said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "And I'm tired of letting others dictate my choices." She stood, pulling Daenerys up with her. In their boots, they stood eye to eye. "Show me," Sansa whispered against Daenerys's lips. "Show me the fire you keep beneath that royal exterior." Daenerys responded by pressing Sansa against the nearest bookshelf, centuries of knowledge trembling behind them as their kisses grew more heated. Sansa's hands found their way into that silver-gold hair, as soft as silk between her fingers. Daenerys made a sound low in her throat, almost a growl, as she traced kisses down Sansa's neck.
"Beautiful," Daenerys breathed against her skin. "So beautiful, my wolf queen." Their bodies pressed together, silk against leather, ice meeting fire and creating steam. The candles guttered in their holders, casting wild shadows across the walls as the two queens found in each other something they'd both been seeking - understanding, passion, and a power that had nothing to do with thrones or crowns. Daenerys had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact with Sansa, suddenly very aware of how the Northern beauty towered over her. The height difference sent an unexpected thrill through her body - she who commanded dragons, who had conquered cities, felt deliciously small in Sansa's presence.
"Seven hells," Daenerys breathed, her hands sliding up Sansa's tall frame. "I never realized quite how... magnificent you are."
Sansa's blue eyes darkened as she looked down at the Dragon Queen. Her hands settled possessively on Daenerys's hips. "Does my height intimidate you, Your Grace?" she teased, deliberately using the title now.
"Quite the opposite," Daenerys replied, her voice husky. She pressed herself closer, feeling the length of Sansa's body against hers. "But this library... anyone could walk in."
"Worried about scandal?" Sansa's smile was wolfish as she bent to nip at Daenerys's ear. "The Dragon Queen and the Lady of Winterfell..."
"Take me to your chambers," Daenerys commanded, though her authoritative tone was somewhat undermined by the tremor in her voice as Sansa's lips found her neck. "Now."
"As you wish," Sansa whispered. She pulled back, but kept hold of Daenerys's hand. "Follow me. I know the secret passages - we won't be seen." They slipped behind a tapestry, into a narrow stone corridor lit only by occasional wall sconces. Sansa led the way confidently, while Daenerys found herself fascinated by how their joined hands looked - her own small, tanned fingers entwined with Sansa's long, pale ones.
"These passages," Sansa explained in a whisper as they climbed a narrow spiral stair, "were built for the ladies of Winterfell to move about unseen. My mother showed them to me when I was young."
"Clever wolves," Daenerys murmured, admiring how the tight space forced them to press close together as they climbed. They emerged into a corridor near Sansa's chambers. A guard stood at the far end, but Sansa timed their dash across perfectly, pulling Daenerys through her heavy wooden door before they could be spotted.
Inside, a fire roared in the hearth, casting the room in warm light. Thick furs covered the bed, and tapestries lined the walls. But Daenerys had little time to admire the decor before Sansa pressed her against the closed door, using her height to completely envelop the smaller queen.
"Now then," Sansa purred, one hand braced beside Daenerys's head while the other traced the curve of her waist. "Where were we?"
Daenerys reached up, threading her fingers through that glorious red hair, pulling Sansa down to her level. "I believe," she whispered against Sansa's lips, "you were about to show me how the North keeps warm."
Their kisses grew heated, hands exploring with increasing urgency. Sansa's height allowed her to lift Daenerys slightly, pinning her more firmly against the door. The Dragon Queen wrapped her legs around Sansa's waist, marvelling at the strength hidden beneath those fine dresses.
"You're wearing too many clothes," Daenerys gasped as Sansa's teeth grazed her collarbone.
"Then do something about it," Sansa challenged, her proper lady's manners giving way to something wilder, more primal.
Daenerys's fingers found the laces of Sansa's dress, working them free with practiced ease. "I've imagined this," she admitted, pushing the fabric off Sansa's shoulders. "Since I first saw you in the courtyard. So proud, so beautiful, so... tall."
The candlelight danced across Sansa's alabaster skin as Daenerys's deft fingers worked at the intricate laces. "Let me," she whispered, circling behind the taller woman. Her breath caught as each new inch of flesh was revealed. The dress was a masterwork of Northern craftsmanship - layers of dark wool and silk that Daenerys carefully unwound. First fell the outer layer, pooling at Sansa's feet like a midnight puddle. Then came the inner dress, its laces more delicate. Daenerys pressed soft kisses to each vertebra as it was exposed, feeling Sansa shiver under her touch.
"You're trembling," Daenerys observed, her hands sliding beneath the fabric to caress Sansa's shoulders.
"The air is cold," Sansa replied, though they both knew it wasn't the temperature making her quiver. The final layer slipped away, leaving Sansa in nothing but her shift. Daenerys stepped back, drinking in the sight. Even partially clothed, Sansa was magnificent - tall and graceful as a young tree. Her red hair cascaded down her back, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin.
"May I?" Daenerys asked, fingers playing with the ties of the shift. At Sansa's nod, she slowly lifted the garment. Sansa's body was a masterpiece of ivory and rose. Years of Northern living had left her skin pale as moonlight, but a flush of pink spread across her chest and cheeks. Her breasts were full and perfect, tipped with rosy peaks that hardened in the cool air. Her waist curved in elegantly before flaring to generous hips, and her long legs seemed endless. Here and there, almost invisible silver scars told the story of her survival, making her all the more beautiful to Daenerys's eyes.
"You're staring," Sansa whispered, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.
"How could I not?" Daenerys stepped closer, running her hands up Sansa's sides. "You're exquisite. Like a statue of the Maiden come to life." She pressed a kiss between Sansa's breasts, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. "But so wonderfully warm and alive."
Sansa's hands came up to tangle in Daenerys's silver hair. "Your turn," she said, voice husky with desire. But Daenerys wasn't finished worshipping the goddess before her. She traced every curve, every hollow, learning Sansa's body like a map she wanted to memorize forever. She paid special attention to a constellation of freckles across Sansa's left hip, pressing kisses to each one until Sansa was gasping.
"Please," Sansa moaned, pulling Daenerys up for a searing kiss. "Let me see you too. Let me touch you."
Daenerys smiled against her lips. "Patience, my wolf," she purred. "We have all night, and I intend to learn every inch of you first." She guided Sansa backward toward the bed, watching in awe as firelight played across that perfect form. Sansa moved with natural grace, unashamed of her nudity now. She was every inch a queen, even - or especially - like this.
"You're overdressed," Sansa observed, reaching for the clasps of Daenerys's dress.
"Then do something about it," Daenerys challenged, tilting her head back to meet those intense blue eyes. Sansa's nimble fingers made quick work of Daenerys's intricate Targaryen garments, each piece revealing more of the Dragon Queen's ethereal beauty. The dress fell away in layers of black and red silk, whispering against Daenerys's skin.
"Gods," Sansa breathed, circling her queen. "The stories of Valyrian beauty didn't do you justice." Daenerys stood proudly as Sansa's gaze travelled over her form. Her body was a perfect blend of strength and softness - petite but powerful. Her skin was like cream with honey stirred in, smooth and flawless. Unlike Sansa's alabaster paleness, Daenerys had a sun-kissed glow from her years across the Narrow Sea. Her breasts were high and firm, perfectly proportioned to her small frame. Her waist curved in dramatically before flaring to rounded hips, giving her the legendary Targaryen figure that had launched a thousand songs.
"Your hair," Sansa marvelled, running her fingers through the silver-gold strands that fell to Daenerys's waist. "It's like moonlight made solid." She gathered it aside to kiss the nape of Daenerys's neck, earning a soft gasp. Every inch of the Dragon Queen's body seemed designed for beauty - from her delicate collarbones to the gentle curve of her spine, from her toned stomach to her shapely legs. She was petite but perfectly formed, like a precious miniature crafted by the gods themselves.
"You're so small," Sansa whispered, wrapping her arms around Daenerys from behind, marvelling at how perfectly the Dragon Queen fit against her taller frame. "Yet you command armies and dragons."
"Size isn't everything," Daenerys replied with a smirk, pressing back against Sansa's body. "As I'll gladly demonstrate."
Sansa's hands explored the soft planes of Daenerys's stomach, the curve of her hips. "Your skin... it's like silk." She pressed kisses along Daenerys's shoulder, tasting the sweetness there. "And you smell like exotic spices. Like far-off lands I've only dreamed of." Daenerys turned in Sansa's embrace, and the contrast between them was striking - ivory against gold, red hair tangling with silver, ice meeting fire. Her violet eyes, those remarkable Targaryen eyes, were dark with desire as she looked up at Sansa.
"Take me to bed, my wolf," she commanded softly. "Show me what that Northern fire can do." Sansa lifted her easily - Daenerys was as light as a feather in her arms - and carried her to the fur-covered bed. They fell together onto the soft pelts, a tangle of pale limbs and flowing hair, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. Daenerys straddled Sansa's hips, her violet eyes darkening with desire as she gazed down at the magnificent expanse of pale flesh before her. Her small hands cupped Sansa's full breasts, marvelling at how they overflowed her grasp.
"Perfect," she breathed, thumbs circling the rosy peaks. "Like they were sculpted by the gods themselves."
Sansa arched into the touch, her red hair spreading across the furs like spilled wine. "Daenerys," she gasped as skilled fingers teased and explored. The Dragon Queen bent to press kisses across the soft flesh, her silver-gold hair trailing across Sansa's sensitive skin. She took her time, mapping every curve and valley, learning what touches made Sansa moan and what made her whimper.
"So responsive," Daenerys purred, her tongue tracing patterns that made Sansa clutch at the furs beneath them. "So beautifully sensitive." Her hands kneaded the generous flesh, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer touches that had Sansa writhing beneath her.
"Please," Sansa begged, her long fingers tangling in Daenerys's silver hair. "Don't stop..."
"Shh," Daenerys soothed, noticing how Sansa's breath hitched when she gentled her touch. "I want to learn every inch of you." Her fingers traced feather-light circles around Sansa's tits, watching in fascination as goosebumps raised across the pale flesh. Each soft caress drew the sweetest little whimpers from Sansa's throat.
"Your sounds," Daenerys murmured, "they're adorable when I touch you like this." She demonstrated with the lightest brush of her fingertips across Sansa's nipples, earning a high-pitched gasp.
"Gods," Sansa moaned, her back arching slightly. Her massive tits swayed with each movement, mesmerizing Daenerys. The Dragon Queen bent down, replacing fingers with lips and tongue, keeping her touches deliberately soft and teasing. She swirled her tongue in lazy circles, occasionally flicking across the hardened peaks.
"Fuck," Sansa whined, her voice higher and needier than before. "That's... that's perfect..." Daenerys alternated between breasts, lavishing each with equal attention. Her hands massaged the soft flesh while her mouth worked its magic, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from the Lady of Winterfell.
"You're so sensitive here," Daenerys observed, watching Sansa's face contort in pleasure. "So responsive to the gentlest touch." She demonstrated by barely grazing her teeth across one nipple, making Sansa cry out.
"Please," Sansa begged, her hands fisting in Daenerys's silver hair. "Don't stop... need more..."
"I could worship these perfect tits for hours," Daenerys purred, cupping and squeezing them together. "Would you like that? Want me to keep making you squirm and beg?" Sansa could only nod, her blue eyes dark with desire as Daenerys continued her thorough exploration. Each soft suck and gentle bite drew new sounds from Sansa's throat, each one sweeter than the last. Daenerys lavished attention on Sansa's breasts, her tongue swirling delicately around each pink nipple. Her touch was deliberately gentle, savouring every gasp and giggle from the taller woman.
"You're so ticklish," Daenerys observed with delight as her fingers danced lightly across Sansa's stomach, tracing patterns around her navel. The muscles there twitched and jumped under her touch.
"Dany," Sansa whimpered, squirming beneath her. "That's... oh gods..." Daenerys alternated between sweet, gentle sucking and feather-light touches on Sansa's belly, creating a symphony of adorable sounds. Her tongue flicked delicately across each hardened peak while her fingers traced the soft curve of Sansa's waist.
"Your little noises," Daenerys murmured against the warm flesh. "They're driving me wild." She demonstrated by suckling one nipple particularly softly while her fingertips ghosted across Sansa's ribs, making the Lady of Winterfell squeal and arch.
"Please," Sansa gasped, her hands tangling in silver-gold hair. "Don't stop... it's perfect..."
"I love how responsive you are," Daenerys purred, switching to the other breast while her hand continued its teasing exploration of Sansa's stomach. "Every touch makes you sing for me." Sansa's skin was flushed pink with arousal, her chest heaving as Daenerys continued her sweet torture. The combination of gentle sucking and light tickles had her writhing on the furs, making the most delicious sounds.
"You're so beautiful like this," Daenerys whispered, pausing to admire how Sansa's red hair spread across the pelts, how her pale skin glowed in the firelight. "My sweet wolf." She lowered her head again, determined to draw out every possible sound of pleasure from Sansa's lips. Daenerys trailed kisses down Sansa's trembling body, pausing to admire the patch of auburn curls that matched her flowing hair. The scent of Sansa's arousal made her dizzy with want.
"You're perfect," she whispered, settling between those long legs. "Let me show you what I've learned in my travels..." Her tongue found Sansa's wet folds, starting with gentle, exploring licks that made the Lady of Winterfell gasp and buck. Daenerys gripped those pale thighs, steadying her.
"Oh gods," Sansa moaned, her hands fisting in the furs. "Dany... that's... fuck..." Daenerys smiled against Sansa's flesh, remembering all the techniques Missandei had taught her during their nights together in Meereen. She traced delicate patterns, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks that had Sansa writhing.
"You taste divine," Daenerys murmured, before diving back in with renewed passion. Her tongue circled Sansa's clit with practiced skill, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from above. Sansa's thighs trembled as Daenerys worked her magic, years of experience evident in every movement. She knew exactly when to increase pressure, when to ease back, when to suck gently and when to tease.
"Please," Sansa begged, her voice high and needy. "Don't stop... I'm so close..." Daenerys redoubled her efforts, one hand sliding up to play with Sansa's breast while her tongue continued its skilled dance. She could feel Sansa's pleasure building, her body tensing like a bowstring about to snap.
"Let go," Daenerys commanded between licks. "Come for me, my beautiful wolf." And Sansa did, her back arching off the furs as pleasure crashed through her in waves. Daenerys didn't stop until the last tremor had passed, until Sansa lay boneless and gasping beneath her.
"That was..." Sansa panted, pulling Daenerys up for a passionate kiss. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Daenerys smiled mysteriously. "A queen has her secrets. Now..." She straddled Sansa's waist, violet eyes dark with desire. "Shall I teach you more?"
Daenerys traced her fingers down Sansa's spine, a wicked gleam in her violet eyes. "Do you remember our conversation in the courtyard, my wolf? When you asked what dragons eat?"
Sansa's breath hitched as she caught Daenerys's meaning. "Whatever they want," she quoted breathlessly.
"Roll over," Daenerys commanded, her voice thick with desire. "Let me show you exactly what this dragon wants to feast on." Sansa complied, turning onto her stomach. Her magnificent ass was a work of art - perfectly rounded, pale as moonlight, with adorable dimples at the base of her spine. Daenerys couldn't resist giving it a playful smack, watching the flesh quiver and pink up beautifully.
"Gods," Daenerys breathed, admiring the slight rosy handprint she'd left. "The songs don't do Northern beauty justice." She delivered another teasing slap, slightly harder, making Sansa gasp and squirm.
"Dany," Sansa whimpered, pressing back into the touch.
Daenerys leaned forward, her silver hair trailing across Sansa's back. "You know what dragons truly eat?" she purred, kneading the firm flesh beneath her hands. Another playful spank echoed through the chamber.
"Tell me," Sansa moaned, her ass still pink from Daenerys's attentions.
Daenerys bent close to Sansa's ear, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Dragons eat ass, my sweet wolf. And I'm very, very hungry." She emphasized her point with one final slap before settling in to demonstrate exactly what she meant, while Sansa's moans filled the night air. Daenerys pressed her lips tenderly to Sansa's right cheek, savouring the softness beneath her mouth. Her fingers traced delicately along Sansa's cleft, drawing the most adorable sound she'd ever heard - half pleasure, half shy embarrassment.
"That noise," Daenerys breathed, her heart swelling. "Do it again for me." She placed another gentle kiss on the other cheek, her fingers continuing their feather-light exploration.
"Dany," Sansa whimpered, burying her face in the furs, her pale skin flushing pink all the way down her back. "I've never... no one has..."
"Shh," Daenerys soothed, peppering more kisses across the tender flesh. "Trust me, my sweet wolf." Her heart was pounding at how utterly endearing Sansa's reactions were - so different from her usual composed demeanour.
"I do," Sansa whispered, her voice small and vulnerable. "I trust you."
The confession made Daenerys pause, overwhelmed by sudden emotion. She pressed her forehead against Sansa's lower back, breathing in the scent of her skin. "You're precious," she murmured. "Every sound, every shy little movement... you're absolutely precious." Sansa made another of those heart-melting whimpers as Daenerys resumed her attentions, each touch drawing new sounds that were simultaneously innocent and arousing. The Dragon Queen found herself falling harder with each passing moment, captivated by this softer, vulnerable side of the Lady of Winterfell.
"My beautiful wolf," Daenerys whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Let me worship you properly..." And she did, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from Sansa's throat as the night deepened around them.
"Relax for me, sweetling," Daenerys murmured, spreading Sansa's cheeks wider. Her tongue traced slow circles around Sansa's tight hole, feeling it flutter beneath her touch.
"Oh fuck," Sansa gasped, her hands clutching the furs. "That's... gods..." Daenerys hummed appreciatively, diving back in with more purpose. She alternated between broad licks and pointed probes, each touch making Sansa's thighs tremble. Her tongue circled and teased, occasionally dipping just inside.
"You taste amazing," Daenerys purred, before resuming her feast. She gripped Sansa's ass firmly, holding her open as she worked her tongue deeper.
Sansa's moans grew increasingly desperate, her hips pushing back against Daenerys's face. "Please... more..."
"Such a greedy wolf," Daenerys teased, but obliged by increasing her efforts. She licked and sucked at Sansa's tight rim, feeling it gradually relax under her ministrations. The combination of Sansa's taste and her increasingly wanton sounds had Daenerys grinding against the furs beneath them, seeking her own relief as she continued to pleasure her wolf.
"Never knew," Sansa panted, "could feel this good..."
"Oh sweetling," Daenerys promised between licks, "we're just getting started..."
"I can't believe..." Sansa whimpered into the furs, her face burning red as Daenerys's tongue worked its magic. "It's so... oh gods..."
"Don't be shy," Daenerys paused to murmur, her breath hot against Sansa's sensitive flesh. "Your pleasure is beautiful." She dove back in, making Sansa squeal and buck.
"But it's so... dirty," Sansa gasped, even as her hips pushed back instinctively. "So forbidden..."
"Mmm," Daenerys hummed against her, the vibration making Sansa shudder. "That's what makes it so delicious." Her tongue circled and probed, drawing increasingly desperate sounds. Sansa buried her face deeper in the pelts, torn between shame and pleasure. Every swipe of Daenerys's skilled tongue sent sparks of pleasure through her body, making her tremble and moan despite her embarrassment.
"Listen to those sweet sounds," Daenerys purred. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is shy."
"Dany," Sansa whimpered, her thighs quivering. "It feels so good... but I shouldn't..."
"Shouldn't what?" Daenerys teased, her tongue delving deeper. "Shouldn't let your queen worship you properly? Shouldn't take your pleasure where you find it?" Sansa could only moan in response, her inhibitions melting away under Daenerys's relentless attention. The contrast between her proper upbringing and this decadent act only heightened her arousal.
"That's it," Daenerys encouraged between licks. "Let go for me. Let me hear how much you love this." And Sansa did, her cries of pleasure echoing off the stone walls as she surrendered completely to the Dragon Queen's skilled tongue.
"Such a good girl," Daenerys purred, her fingers finding Sansa's soaked cunt. "So wet for me..."
Sansa moaned helplessly as Daenerys explored her folds, testing different pressures and rhythms. "Please... oh gods..."
"Let me take care of you," Daenerys whispered, her skilled fingers dancing through Sansa's wetness while her tongue continued its work. She circled Sansa's clit experimentally, noting how the pressure made her wolf's thighs tremble.
"There," Sansa gasped when Daenerys found just the right touch. "Right there..." Daenerys smiled against Sansa's flesh, maintaining that perfect pressure as she rubbed tight circles around Sansa's pearl. Her other hand spread those pale cheeks wider, allowing her tongue deeper access.
"Dany!" Sansa cried out, her hips moving in desperate little circles. "I'm going to..."
"Come for me," Daenerys commanded, increasing the pace of both tongue and fingers. "Let go completely." Sansa's entire body seized as the pleasure crashed through her like a tidal wave. Her back arched sharply, pressing harder against Daenerys's skilled mouth and fingers as she screamed into the furs.
"DANY! FUCK! OH GODS!" The pleasure was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, radiating from her core through every nerve ending. Her thighs trembled violently, her toes curling as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her.
"That's it," Daenerys purred, not letting up. "Give in completely." Sansa's vision whited out, her mind going blank as her body convulsed in pure bliss. She could feel her cunt pulsing rhythmically, her ass clenching around Daenerys's probing tongue. Every muscle in her body tensed and released in waves of pure pleasure.
"I can't... it's too... oh FUCK!" Another peak hit her before the first had fully subsided, making her sob with overwhelming sensation. Her hips bucked wildly as Daenerys continued her relentless assault on her most sensitive places. Time seemed to lose all meaning as Sansa floated in a sea of pure pleasure. She was vaguely aware of making sounds she'd never made before - desperate, animal noises that echoed off the chamber walls. When she finally came down, she was trembling and gasping, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her entire body felt like liquid, melted by the intensity of her release.
"Seven hells," she managed to whisper, her voice hoarse from screaming. "That was... I never knew..."
Daenerys crawled up beside her, pulling her close. "That, my sweet wolf, is what happens when you truly let go." Sansa could only nod weakly, still shaking with aftershocks. She knew at that moment that nothing would ever be the same - she had been transformed by pleasure beyond anything she'd imagined possible.
"Come here, my sweet wolf," Daenerys whispered, pulling Sansa close. The taller woman clung to her desperately, still trembling from her intense release.
"That was..." Sansa breathed against Daenerys's chest, nuzzling into the soft flesh. "I've never felt anything like that."
Daenerys smiled, running her fingers through Sansa's copper hair, admiring how it gleamed in the firelight. "You're so beautiful like this," she murmured. "All soft and pliant in my arms."
Sansa's grip tightened possessively, her long legs tangling with Daenerys's shorter ones. "Don't let go," she whispered, pressing closer to those perfect breasts. "Please..."
"Never," Daenerys promised, continuing her gentle caresses. She traced patterns on Sansa's back while playing with her silky tresses, occasionally massaging her scalp in soothing circles.
"Mmm," Sansa hummed contentedly, her breath warm against Daenerys's skin. "Your heartbeat... it's so calming."
Daenerys pressed soft kisses to Sansa's forehead, savouring the weight of her wolf against her body. "You fit so perfectly in my arms," she observed, twirling a copper strand around her finger.
"I never want to leave them," Sansa confessed, her voice small and vulnerable. She pressed even closer, if that was possible, one hand splayed possessively across Daenerys's ribs.
"Then don't," Daenerys replied simply, continuing her tender ministrations. She loved how Sansa, usually so composed and proper, was now clinging to her like a lifeline, seeking comfort in her embrace. They lay like that for long moments, sharing warmth and gentle touches as the fire crackled beside them. Sansa's breathing gradually steadied, though her grip remained deliciously possessive.
Sansa's soft lips traced delicate patterns across Daenerys's perfect breasts, making the Dragon Queen sigh with pleasure. Each breast was full and firm, topped with rosy nipples that hardened under Sansa's attention.
"Beautiful," Sansa whispered, pressing reverent kisses to the creamy flesh. Her copper hair fell like silk across Daenerys's chest as she explored.
"That feels divine," Daenerys moaned, arching into the touch. Her breasts were perfectly sized to fill Sansa's palms as she cupped them gently. Sansa took her time, mapping every inch with tender kisses. She circled each nipple teasingly before taking one into her mouth, sucking softly while her hand kneaded the other breast.
"Yes," Daenerys breathed, threading her fingers through Sansa's hair. "Just like that..." Sansa alternated between breasts, her touches growing more confident but remaining gentle. She loved how responsive Daenerys was, how she arched and gasped at each new sensation.
"You taste like summer," Sansa murmured against the warm flesh. Her tongue flicked across a hardened peak, drawing a sharp gasp from above.
"My sweet wolf," Daenerys purred, holding Sansa closer to her chest. "You're learning so quickly..." Sansa hummed in response, continuing her devoted attention to those perfect breasts. Each kiss and lick drew new sounds from Daenerys, encouraging her to explore further.
"More," Daenerys pleaded, her back arching off the furs. "Please..." And Sansa obliged, determined to bring her queen the same pleasure she'd received. Sansa trailed her lips across Daenerys's collarbone, marvelling at the silken texture of her skin. "You're so warm," she whispered, pressing tender kisses down the valley between her breasts.
"Fire made flesh," Daenerys breathed, arching into the touch. Her skin seemed to glow in the firelight, pearlescent and perfect.
"I want to kiss every inch of you," Sansa murmured, moving to explore the soft plane of Daenerys's stomach. Her tongue traced patterns across the smooth flesh, tasting salt and sweetness.
"Then do it," Daenerys encouraged, running her fingers through copper tresses. "Take your time. We have all night." Sansa explored reverently, discovering every dip and curve. She found a sensitive spot just below Daenerys's ribs that made her gasp, another at the hollow of her throat that drew the sweetest moans.
"Your skin tastes like honey and spice," Sansa breathed, nuzzling into the crook of Daenerys's neck. "I could get drunk on it."
"You're making me melt," Daenerys sighed, her body undulating under Sansa's attentions. Each kiss left trails of fire in its wake. Sansa worked her way down Daenerys's arms, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her wrists, her palms, each delicate finger. No inch of skin was left unexplored.
"I never knew," Sansa confessed between kisses, "that someone could feel this perfect."
"Keep going," Daenerys urged, her voice thick with desire. "Show me what else that clever mouth can do..." And Sansa did, mapping every inch of her dragon queen with lips and tongue, determined to learn every spot that made her gasp and moan. Sansa's breath caught as she gazed at Daenerys's exquisite sex. A perfect triangle of fine silver curls crowned her mound, gleaming like moonlight on water.
"Beautiful," Sansa breathed, trailing her fingers through the silken strands. "Even here, you're perfect." Daenerys moaned softly as Sansa's fingers explored lower, tracing the outline of her plump outer lips. They were flushed pink and glistening with arousal, swollen and inviting.
"Touch me," Daenerys pleaded, her hips lifting slightly. "Please..."
Sansa ran her finger gently along the seam, marvelling at how soft and full the flesh felt. "So wet already," she murmured, circling teasingly.
"For you," Daenerys gasped. "All for you." The neat silver curls were already damp with desire as Sansa parted those luscious lips, revealing the pink treasure within. She traced each fold reverently, learning their texture and sensitivity.
"I want to taste you," Sansa whispered, her mouth watering at the sight. "May I?"
"Gods yes," Daenerys moaned, spreading her thighs wider. "Please, my wolf..." Sansa settled between those pale thighs, breathing in Daenerys's heady scent. She pressed gentle kisses to those plump outer lips, savouring how they yielded under her touch.
"You're incredible," she breathed against the wet flesh. "Every part of you is perfect..." And with that, she dove in to feast properly on her dragon queen.
"Gods," Daenerys gasped as Sansa's skilled tongue worked its magic. "You... you've done this before, haven't you?"
Sansa pulled back, her face flushing crimson. She bit her lip, looking adorably embarrassed. "I... yes. Once or twice..."
"Tell me," Daenerys purred, running her fingers through copper hair. "Who taught you to be so good with that clever tongue?"
Sansa buried her face against Daenerys's thigh, her blush spreading down her neck. "It was... Arya and Meera," she whispered, barely audible.
"Oh?" Daenerys's eyes lit up with interest. "Do tell me more, my sweet wolf."
"It just... happened," Sansa admitted, still blushing furiously. "On cold nights in Winterfell. Meera showed us both how... and then Arya and I practiced together sometimes..."
"That's incredibly arousing," Daenerys breathed, pulling Sansa up for a deep kiss. "No wonder you're so skilled. Show me what else they taught you..."
"You're not... shocked?" Sansa asked hesitantly.
"Shocked? No, darling. I'm intrigued," Daenerys grinned wickedly. "Perhaps we should invite them to join us sometime..."
Sansa's eyes went wide, her blush deepening impossibly further. "You'd want that?"
"I want everything with you," Daenerys purred. "But for now..." She guided Sansa back down between her thighs. "Show me exactly what you learned..."
"Oh gods," Daenerys moaned, her head falling back as Sansa's tongue explored every inch of her sex. "Just like that..." Sansa hummed appreciatively, taking her time to map each fold and crease. Her tongue moved in long, lazy strokes from bottom to top, gathering Daenerys's sweetness.
Daenerys's hips rolled slowly against Sansa's mouth as that clever tongue circled and teased. "More... please..."
"Patience," Sansa murmured, maintaining her leisurely pace. She traced each inner fold with the tip of her tongue, occasionally dipping inside to taste deeper.
"Sansa!" Daenerys gasped, her fingers tangling in copper hair. "You're driving me mad..."
"Good," Sansa purred, before returning to her thorough exploration. She alternated between broad strokes and pointed probes, learning every spot that made Daenerys shake.
"Please," Daenerys begged, her thighs trembling. "I need..." But Sansa just smiled against her flesh, continuing her slow, methodical attention. She wanted to memorize every inch, every texture, every taste.
"Such a tease," Daenerys whimpered as Sansa's tongue circled her entrance again. "Where did you learn to be so wicked?"
"I had good teachers," Sansa replied with a smirk, before diving back in to drive her queen to new heights of pleasure.
"You're incredible," Daenerys moaned, her back arching as Sansa's tongue traced delicate patterns. "So good with that clever mouth..." Sansa hummed contentedly, savouring every taste and texture. Her tongue moved in long, languid strokes, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from above.
"I love how responsive you are," Sansa breathed against the wet flesh. "How you move against my mouth..."
"Don't stop," Daenerys pleaded, her fingers tangling in copper hair. "Please don't ever stop..." Sansa took her time, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention. She loved how Daenerys's thighs trembled when she hit just the right spot.
"Such perfect sounds you make," Sansa purred before diving back in. She traced each fold reverently, occasionally dipping deeper to taste more.
"Sansa!" Daenerys cried out as that clever tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. "Right there..."
"Here?" Sansa teased, focusing her attention. She loved watching Daenerys come undone under her ministrations.
"Yes! Gods, yes!" Daenerys's hips rolled rhythmically against Sansa's mouth, chasing more pleasure.
"I could do this forever," Sansa confessed between licks. "You taste divine..." And she continued her devoted attention, determined to bring her queen to new heights of pleasure.
"Oh FUCK!" Daenerys cried out as Sansa's lips wrapped around her sensitive bud. Her hips bucked sharply, pressing harder against that skilled mouth.
"Mmm," Sansa hummed, the vibration making Daenerys gasp. She alternated between gentle suction and teasing flicks of her tongue. Sansa increased the pressure slightly, drawing circles with her tongue while maintaining the perfect suction. She loved how Daenerys writhed beneath her.
"So close," Daenerys panted, her fingers tightening in Sansa's hair. "Just like that..." Sansa redoubled her efforts, working that sensitive pearl with dedicated attention. She could feel Daenerys's pulse racing through the swollen flesh.
"SANSA!" Daenerys screamed as pleasure built to a crescendo. "I'm going to..." But Sansa just hummed again, not letting up her rhythmic attention. She wanted to taste every drop of her queen's pleasure.
"Yes, yes, YES!" Daenerys cried out as Sansa's skilled tongue brought her closer to the edge. Her thighs trembled violently, her back arching off the furs.
"Come for me," Sansa purred before returning to her devoted attention. She increased the pressure and speed, feeling Daenerys's pearl throb against her tongue.
"OH GODS!" Daenerys screamed as pleasure crashed through her like a tidal wave. Her entire body seized, hips bucking wildly against Sansa's mouth. Daenerys's vision whited out as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. Her cunt pulsed rhythmically against Sansa's tongue as she rode out her peak. Sansa maintained her relentless attention, drawing out Daenerys's pleasure until she was sobbing with sensation. She loved feeling her queen come undone like this. When Daenerys finally collapsed, trembling and gasping, Sansa crawled up to hold her close.
Sansa nestled into Daenerys's arms, her cheeks still flushed from exertion. "Was that... was that good?" she asked shyly, looking up through her lashes with an adorably uncertain expression.
Daenerys laughed breathlessly, still trembling with aftershocks. "Good? My sweet wolf, that was incredible." She pulled Sansa closer, pressing kisses to her forehead. "I can barely feel my legs..."
"Really?" Sansa beamed with pride, snuggling closer. "I wanted it to be perfect for you..."
"It was beyond perfect," Daenerys assured her, running fingers through copper tresses. "I've never... gods, I've never felt anything like that."
Sansa blushed deeper, hiding her face against Daenerys's neck. "I just wanted to make you feel as amazing as you made me feel."
"Mission thoroughly accomplished," Daenerys chuckled, still quivering occasionally. "Though I might need a moment to recover before I can properly thank you..."
"Take all the time you need," Sansa murmured, pressing soft kisses to Daenerys's throat. "I'm not going anywhere."
"My precious wolf," Daenerys sighed contentedly, holding Sansa tight. "So skilled yet so sweetly humble about it..."
"I just want to please you," Sansa whispered, her voice full of tender devotion.
"And you do," Daenerys assured her. "In every possible way..." Sansa and Daenerys lay tangled in the furs, their naked bodies pressed close for warmth. The fire had burned low, casting a soft glow across their entwined forms.
"I never thought," Daenerys murmured, trailing lazy kisses along Sansa's jaw, "that our negotiations would end quite like this."
Sansa laughed softly, running her fingers through silver-gold hair. "Is this how you typically handle diplomatic relations, Your Grace?"
"Only with particularly beautiful Northern ladies," Daenerys teased, nuzzling closer. All the earlier tension about the North's independence seemed distant now, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.
"Stay," Sansa whispered, tightening her arms around the smaller woman. "Stay here tonight."
"Wild direwolves couldn't drag me away," Daenerys promised, pressing closer. Their legs tangled together beneath the furs, skin against skin. They exchanged slow, lazy kisses, neither having the energy for more but neither wanting to stop touching. Sansa loved how perfectly Daenerys fit in her arms, how natural it felt to hold her.
"What happens tomorrow?" Sansa asked softly, her fingers tracing patterns on Daenerys's back.
"Tomorrow can wait," Daenerys murmured sleepily. "Right now, I just want to stay here with you." The politics, the war, the game of thrones - it all seemed far away in the quiet intimacy of Sansa's chamber. They were no longer the Dragon Queen and the Lady of Winterfell, just two women finding comfort in each other's arms.
"Sleep, my dragon," Sansa whispered, pressing a kiss to Daenerys's forehead as her breathing grew steady. Daenerys mumbled something unintelligible, already drifting off, her face peaceful in a way Sansa had never seen before. Soon they were both asleep, wrapped in each other's warmth while outside, snow fell softly on Winterfell's ancient stones.
The morning would bring its own challenges, but for now, they had found their peace in each other's arms, all thoughts of kingdoms and crowns forgotten in the quiet of the night.