
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2717534.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Tyrion_Lannister_&_Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Tyrion_Lannister, Sansa_Stark, Joffrey_Baratheon, Shae_(ASoIaF)
  Additional Tags:
      My_First_Smut, Worried_not_smutty_enough, Loss_of_Virginity
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-04 Chapters: 1/? Words: 3610
****** Cross Purposes ******
by Tah_Ripley
Summary
     Tyrion and Sansa have sex. They have slightly different thoughts
     running through their heads. Tyrion becomes particularly disturbed at
     his.
Notes
     I love shipping Tyrion and Sansa but I'm also aware that they have
     some differences and I wanted to illustrate them a bit. Also I always
     wonder what other people think about when they are having sex.
See the end of the work for more notes
Sansa’s world was a precarious as ever. Still a prisoner, in a marriage she
felt nothing but shame for, but at least surviving.
It had happened on her way back to her quarters that afternoon. It was Joffrey
again – not that novel really. It was in a quiet corridor, he was followed by 2
blank faced knights. Pushed against the wall, she kept her head down as he
groped her breast and tried to think of other things as he hissed at her.
“Still a maid I hear, are you waiting for me to cover for my uncle’s
inabilities. Shall we sort out the sad affair right here?”
His hand was beginning to roam further down when he was interrupted by a
messenger who acted oblivious as to what was happening. Sansa didn’t fully hear
what was said but took comfort when Joffrey accepted that he was wanted
elsewhere. “Later my little traitor bitch, I need to take a maidenhead before
my wedding and yours will suit me fine.” She felt like collapsing as they moved
off, each knight feeling a need to give her a lecherous smirk before taking
leave, but she had to survive. She rushed on to her rooms.
She wished briefly she was more like Ayra – that she had some of that power
that the knights had. She didn’t, she couldn’t do anything to affect Joffrey.
But she could change something about herself.
---------------------------------------
Tyrion wasn’t normally in his rooms at this hour. His morning had been
unpleasant and frustrating. Chasing around numbers on Littlefinger’s ledgers –
back and forth across the books but never adding up to what was needed. He had
hoped he might find Shae to cheer him. The plan only worked in half – he found
her but they quarrelled and left him worse rather than better. She took
exception to him objecting that she had allowed Sansa out without her
protection.
Well, it would just have to be down to his old friend wine to help. Wine was
always reliable, he thought. He was just about to call for some when Sansa
burst in, her tearful state only too obvious. Splendid, the other woman in my
life has come to cheer me up.
“Sansa, tell me what the matter is,” he tried to keep the weariness out of his
voice.
Sansa approached him with her eyes cast down, reached his table and stared at
him for a few moments. Then said, “My lord, Joffrey will not leave me be
until……he wants,” she focussed on the wall tapestry before finding the courage
to continue speaking. When she did it was in such haste all the words rolled
into one. “He-wants-my-maidenhood-which-I-do-not-want-him-to-have-so-you-have-
to-take-it-but-I-don’t-want-to-share-my-bed-with-you-after-that,” she spat out
and then added, as a polite afterthought, “if it so pleases my lord.”
It took a while for Tyrion to take in what she had said and longer yet to
digest the proposition. It was, he felt, one of the most depressing invitations
to bed he had ever had, but ironically from probably one of the most attractive
companions. He was doomed to agree, in truth he had never rejected any such
offer. Still his misgivings remained which gave him an air of caution. Also he
felt that if he was only going to get one crack of the whip, as it were, it
should at least be on his terms. “Very well, my lady. I am happy to perform the
act tonight but,” he paused, not really sure what he was going to ask for, “I
would ask that you give consideration to my greater, ummm, experience in these
matters and…” He just wanted to feel he wasn’t being used as his cock was just
marginally less offensive than the insane king’s, he wanted to feel he wasn’t
being completely played as a pawn, he wanted some kind of control, “I insist
you do as I bid you.”
Sansa looked down at him, but was uncomfortable meeting his gaze, there was
something disconcerting about it. After a moment she realized what bothered
her, it was his pride. He was staring at her as if he, the imp, had a perfect
right to make demands of her and her body. Perhaps she was also just slightly
disappointed that he hadn’t taken the matter in hand immediately. She mumbled,
“Of course my lord.”
“Tyrion”
“Of course, Tyrion.”
“Good, well I suggest you stay here in the protection of our rooms….I must,” I
must get out of here before I just decide to fuck you over the table and ruin
the event in the blink of an eye,“I have affairs to be dealt with, so I shall
meet you again at dinner.”
He left, posting Bron outside. Sansa sat and considered the arrangement she had
just made. She still felt sure of her logic. However humiliating it might feel
to be known to have lain with such a man as her husband she could bare that
better than having Joffrey at her whenever she left her room. Her main concern
was that once he had been given access he would feel free to use her as he
wanted but decided she could trust him. He had left her alone since their
wedding after all. It was just, something in the way he had said she must do as
he bid her. She had no idea what that might mean, and feared that he might want
to do something unnatural. Maybe he had to do the act in some kind of unnatural
way, due to his stature. Oh gods, thought Sansa, what have I agreed to?.
------------------------------
Tyrion walked as fast as he was able, albeit in a directionless meander, around
the grounds. The exertion helped him think and eventually form a plan. Not
detailed, but tactics. He did want her to enjoy the event. Not least as he
reasoned she might even let him in again if it goes well enough. Best pull one
off this afternoon,he thought, to keep from being too keen.
So with a pleasantly legitimate excuse for self-abuse he made his way home.
-----------------------------
Dinner was awkward at best. Their conversation, rarely sparkling, was
essentially nil. Sansa felt only nerves but they were underlined by her
characteristic determination. Tyrion though would have been hard pressed to
comprehensively cover all his emotions. There was certainly lust but also guilt
that this girl had been put into the situation and anger at those guiltier
parties such as his father. She was barely out of childhood. She would probably
still look like a child. He started wondering what Sansa would look like under
her clothes, initially pretending it was on objective thought to calculate if
she would look mature enough to fuck and then realizing it was going horribly
towards lusty imaginations. Enough, he thought, go to this before self-loathing
makes me impotent.
He wanted above everything else to not appear like a hideous lecher so did his
best to speak with in a calm even tone.
“Sansa, are you are of the same mind as before?”
She gave a small but decided nod.
“Then please go to the bedroom, take off your garments, and lie on the bed
facing the wall opposite the door. I will join you presently.”
She left, hopefully to do as he’d asked. Just one more small glass of wine, he
thought.
--------------------------
She was in the bedroom waiting. She was nervous of course, her mind kept
beginning to think up scenarios that she didn’t have enough knowledge to
visualise but terrified her none-the-less. She forced herself to be calm, told
herself that Tyrion would not be cruel to her and was many times better than
Joffrey. She thought about her little husband, he had saved her from harm
before and had respected her wishes in their marriage. Yes, she thought, he is
not such a bad man. Strangely as she lay waiting, she found herself thinking of
her old septa, she could be stern, especially to her sister, but she had been
very fond of her. She had never understood how Ayra was always in trouble while
she got the praise. Ayra just never liked being told what to do, she realized,
while she, Sansa, rather liked to be given instructions or even commands, and
then have the pleasure of fulfilling them without wondering too much about why.
-----------------------
Before long Tyrion let his lust win out over his misgivings and come to the
bedroom. He undressed gracelessly and clambered into the bed while Sansa kept
her back to him and her eyes on the wall.
She had covered herself in a thin bedsheet which he was just about to peel away
from her when he felt bound to check she was still prepared to let him do this.
He spoke close to her ear and said, “Sansa, you must tell me, do you still want
me to have you?”
His voice was so close and so low it quite shocked her. “Yes, my lord.”
He felt like groaning at ‘my lord’ but decided it not the best time to correct
her.
“Close your eyes and think of your Knight of Flowers.”
He lent down and kissed the back of her neck several times. What a neck,he
thought,an amazingly long neck, almost too long a neck, and definitely no child
could have a neck this long. Having bolstered his conscience he let his light
kisses continued down and then he began to very gently trace shapes with the
tips of his fingers around the small of her back.
Despite having given himself a good pleasuring just a short while earlier he
felt his desire wanting attention. He tried to bore it out and began, not for
the first time, to attempt a comprehensive list of all the whores he had ever
known. He was in the habit of learning a whore’s name and had a considerable
memory. It was a pastime that seemed appropriate for the bedroom and yet
involved quite a degree of cognitive effort that tended to quieten down the
worst demands of his own lust.
He was just battling between the twin aims of slowly increasing the size of his
finger’s circlings to reach the lower parts of Sansa’s bottom and trying to
remember if the Brunette in Kayce was called Annetta or Annalina when he was
distracted by a small gasp from the woman in front of him.
---------------------------
Sansa had started to imagine Loras Tyrell. It didn’t stretch her maiden
imagination to feel him kissing her so lightly and gently on her neck. It felt
right to follow her lord husband’s instructions and think about the delicate
times they might have had together at Highgarden. She had taken a little wine
and it felt quite easy to relax into a soft lull, enjoying the surprising
pleasure of the light pressure of his fingers on the base of her spine. Then
they began to glance very lightly on to the cheeks of her backside. Now Sansa
found it harder to imagine she was with Loras – it was a little too intimate,
somehow a little too raw. It was something that she didn’t think proper high-
born couples would do together. She was quite certain that her father and
mother never…..well her thoughts couldn’t continue with that line of thinking.
It felt like something that happened outside of proper marriage beds. This is
what he does with his whores, she thought, but rather than the idea disgusting
her she found herself shivering with quite a different feeling and couldn’t
help a whimper escape from her lips.
---------------------------
Well that’s promising, thought Tyrion. His list was, at least for the moment,
suspended. He put some pressure to the back of Sansa’s upper thigh, but as she
wasn’t very pliant leant down again to her ear and said, “move your leg
forward.” He didn’t want to distract her from what he was hoping was a pretty
little fantasy so he avoided excessive courtesies. He was also keen to avoid
sounding demanding or overly desperate so he ensured his voice was even and
unwavering. When her knee had slid down so it was resting on the bed he had
access to her pretty slit. Whilst tempted to ram his favourite appendage down
there immediately he knew he had to be patient and he edged his index finger
towards her clit.
--------------------------
There was a strange thrill Sansa didn’t wanted to admit to in obeying her
husband’s command. Command? Yes it was definitely a command, coming in that
shockingly deep low voice that tickled her ear. This must be how he talks to
whores. She was just considering this idea when she felt his fingers nearly
inside her. It was a shock. It was a confusing shock. Poor Sansa thought she
had been adequately informed about what would happen and she was fairly certain
it was a quite different part of the man that was supposed to go around there.
Perhaps she had been told wrong, or understood wrong or…..dear gods that feels
nice.She knew she had let another gasp escape and felt horribly embarrassed.
The feeling wasn’t actually so novel to her but it was an almost completely
repressed memory.
It felt an age ago now. When she thought Joffrey her beautiful prince, and she
saw their future stretching out together. Alone in her bed she had an urge to
touch herself but experienced almost equal amounts of shame to her pleasure
which prevented her coming even close to a satisfying conclusion. She thought
she must have some kind of aberration to want to touch herself somewhere which
it was forbidden even to talk about. How does he know? She wondered. With
someone else’s fingers there she didn’t feel the shame. I have to let him do
this she thought, the growing warmth flooding around her as she let herself
slide into submission.
-----------------------
On balance this was going better than expected. Sansa’s mews were very quiet
but definitely there and she was surprisingly wet. The only drawback was the
struggle to avoid diving straight in to get release. Oh unholy gods this is
getting unbearable, he tried to enjoy the struggle, and there was some kind of
pleasure in keeping himself restrained but the appreciation of that was an art
he hadn’t had much practice in. He wasn’t an utterly unselfish lover though he
was, almost always, a paying customer. He wanted to be liked, but still….a
little bit of effort seemed to go quite a long way with whores. They were
normally screaming to high heaven by this point – Sansa was considerably more
reserved. He might have felt more comfortable if he hadn’t the suspicion that
Sansa might change her mind at any minute and he would be back to relying on
his own hand again.
Eventually he made himself a deal, if a few minutes of licking her doesn’t get
anywhere then it’s fair enough to get on with it – she might just be pleased to
have it done and have the bed to herself again.
------------------------
Sansa felt that she was losing control of herself, the warmth that had started
around there was beginning to move out, she felt her legs shudder and a kind of
tingle around her back. She wasn’t without fear, not her original fear that was
about pain and discomfort. Now she feared losing control, feeling that
something was happening to her body that she couldn’t regulate. Her
disorientation made her cling to one thought in her head. This is my husband, I
have to submit, I have to let this happen.
She struggled to keep her lips clamped together, her shame at her pleasure
silencing her. But then she found herself moved onto her bottom, he was between
her legs, she readied herself for what she expected but was challenged by yet
another new experience.
She lost her thoughts, her mind was blank, she could not acknowledge
consciously to herself what she was feeling between her legs, what was
happening. This was an unimagined debauchery, surely utterly wrong in a
marriage bed. Her last vestiges of control went, she opened her lips and cried
out. It felt like her whole body shuddered, shuddered again…..and then went
still. She lay back, somehow she had lost all the air in her lungs and she
breathed hard to get it back.
As the ecstatic feeling quelled she regained her thought. Her fears returned.
He hasn’t actually done it. He hasn’t put his thing in me. So I’m still a
maiden, oh no, what if he can’t?
--------------------
Tyrion felt entitled to a degree of smugness. He felt sure she had enjoyed
that. He took a few moments to enjoy watching her lieing back, flushed and
covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration. He began taking off his breeches,
imagining a future when she would gently, with great embarrassment, ask him,
maybe even beg him to come to her bed again. Then she spoke:-
“My lord, are you able to take my maidenhood?”
It was asked out of fear and confusion but Tyrion’s only recently buffered
self-esteem was crushed and he heard it as a taunt.
“Yes my lady, I can,” and then he immediately did.
-------------------
She gasped. It was impossible not to. It wasn’t through pain, although there
was some discomfort but that was outweighed by a pleasure in the sensation of
being filled, feeling a type of wholeness.
He was so much nearer her now, right there, in front of her. She felt an
embarrassment return and closed her eyes. A novel type of weariness overcome
her, she relaxed back and found herself smiling. She didn’t feel comfortable
enough to review what had just happened, what she had felt. But she was happy
just to have experienced that warm pleasure that had been so unexpected. She
gasped again. Maybe it was coming back. She opened her eyes and looked into
his.
--------------------
It wasn’t exactly how he had envisaged the act, but oh the relief,such a tight
grip around him, quite a difference from a woman who had laboured away in a
whore-house for years. Come to think of it, quite different from Shae. A
different type of guilt crept up on him – he drove all thoughts out. This isn’t
betrayal – this is just doing my duty. And it was a hell of a lot better than
when his duty mostly consisted of drainage works.
He wanted to hold this moment, remember this image of the beautiful innocent
girl he was……oh gods this poor girl he was defiling, is this what she wanted?
He had practically attacked her. She seemed content - she looked up at him and
smiled. Such a pretty little smile. Then his mind, continuing it’s good
service, managed to do two things at once. It sent a message to finally break
the building tension and send waves of ecstasy through him just exactly at the
same time as it threw up an image of Myrcella smiling a pretty little smile at
him. He didn’t ask his mind if these things were connected. He really, really
didn’t want to know.
He sunk down on to her chest and then removed himself. He didn’t want to look
at her – it seemed uncourteous but he felt a horror at what his mind had
suggested. He couldn’t bare to think about it and he needed to get away from
this young woman.
It made a horrible kind of a sense. If his upstanding big brother had enough of
the vice to drive him to his sister’s bed, then he, the degenerate of the
family, would surely go lower and want to……..he couldn’t complete the thought.
Hadn’t he always just loved his little niece as an uncle should?
He moved over to the couch without saying a word to Sansa.
--------------------
Sansa lay on the bed, pondering the evening. Well,she thought pragmatically,
that definitely rid me of my maidenhood. She tried to think about how this
should be made public and the best way to act to make her repellent to Joffrey.
Before gaining any kind of clarity on the matter though, memories popped into
her head of what had just happened. How good it had made her feel. How Tyrion
had made her feel. Trying to avoid considering the implication of any of this
she just sunk back into a luxuriant memory of the sensation she felt as he put
his….was it actually his tongue?
She rather wished that he had stuck with his custom of late and stayed in their
bed albeit at the far side. She wasn’t sure what she wanted exactly but it
seemed a shame that he had chosen the couch again. But she understood exactly
why he did it and why he hadn’t said a word to her since the act. It
communicated that he was respecting her wishes and would not force himself upon
her again. Well not unless…..she didn’t finish the thought but fell into a
happy slumber.
-------------------
Tyrion didn’t sleep for many hours. He couldn’t find any rest until he
attempted a terrifying mental experiment. If the results went badly he felt a
dramatic gesture should be made – going to the wall to take the black, or
perhaps just directly chopping off his manhood.
He gritted his teeth and attempted to imagine a sexual act between himself and
Myrcella – barely had any kind of mental image begun before he felt nauseous,
grotesque, revolted, and completely, utterly unaroused. Yes!- this was the
greatest relief of the evening – he didn’t want to fuck his niece.He fell into
a contented sleep.
 
End Notes
     First attempt at this. You don't have to be kind and write a
     supportive comment (I'm always rubbish at doing that) but would be
     super delighted if you did - and let me know if anything doesn't make
     sense. Or any typos, or general grammar break-downs. Or even if you
     think it's rubbish. Nice if you could be a bit tactful.
     I can have some ideas of how to progress a bit - so let me know if
     anyone wants to have a bit more of the same.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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