Chapter Text
It had been a long time since Sansa had been able to take any real pleasure in the beauty of the Red Keep’s gardens. When she first arrived at King’s Landing, they had seemed a marvel, but now their twisting paths were nothing more than a place for her to hide in the hopes of a brief respite from her torments.
That had never been more true than today. The overlook she stood upon offered a gorgeous view of Blackwater Bay’s sparkling waters, but instead of enjoying the sight, all Sansa could do was shift uneasily, attempting to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.
It wasn’t easy. Ever since her presentation the previous year, Sansa had been dealing with periodic unwanted arousals, but today was something else entirely. Nor did she have the necessary privacy to try and deal with the problem. In her chambers, there was the constant risk of Tyrion or Shae walking in on her, while anywhere else, she was shadowed by a pair of Lannister guardsmen making sure she didn’t escape.
Trapped in her own misery, she hadn’t paid those two soldiers any mind in some time, which made it especially jarring when she heard one of them say, “My lady.”
The words were spoken not with mockery but respect, and when Sansa turned her head, she realized why. The woman coming up the path was immeasurably more important than a freakish traitor’s daughter like Sansa: Margaery Tyrell, the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms, was not one to be trifled with.
The omega was not just powerful either; clad in her green and silver gown, she was also a vision of loveliness that no alpha could resist. As the guards parted for her, Sansa had to bite her inner lip to hold back the wave of desire that washed over her. From the very first time she’d met Margaery, she’d been enchanted but today, it required real effort not to throw herself at the omega in a lust-fueled frenzy.
Margaery seemed oblivious to Sansa’s obscene thoughts, smiling broadly as she drew closer. It was a look that had charmed most of King’s Landing, and Sansa was helpless before it, especially in her current condition.
“Hello, Sansa,” Margaery said, her voice all good cheer.
All Sansa could return was a weak smile of her own, one that did its best to hide her discomfort. “Hello, Margaery. Were you looking for me?”
“You weren’t at court this morning. I thought I should make sure everything was all right.”
“I’m fine,” Sansa protested, but there was no value in such lies. Margaery’s cute little button nose was already twitching, the omega no doubt catching a whiff of Sansa’s rut.
“Oh, my,” she said, but her tone was sympathetic, not disgusted. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes,” Sansa admitted, dropping her voice low enough that they wouldn’t be overheard.
“I see.” Margaery tilted her head as she considered the situation, exposing the pale curve of her neck. An urge to cover it with kisses nearly overwhelmed Sansa. This was more than desire, it was a madness that made her skin burn with its intensity, and though she managed to restrain it for now, she didn’t know how much longer that would be true.
While she boiled, Margaery turned to face the guards. “If we could have some privacy, that would be lovely.” The two men looked at one another, clearly torn between their orders and obedience to their future queen and Margaery added, “Don’t worry, there’s nowhere for her to go but down and I won’t let that happen.”
Mollified, the guards retreated down the path, and once they were out of sight, Margaery turned her attention back to Sansa. “There. Now we can speak in peace.”
“Thank you,” Sansa said, though peace was the last thing she was feeling. She’d been fully shifted since she’d woken up, but now her erection was agonizingly stiff, paining Sansa every time Margery spoke, or moved, or really, just existed nearby.
“When did it start?”
Sansa had to work hard to focus on Margaery’s words instead of the sensuous curve of her lips, not to imagine how they would feel pressed against her own, or exploring her flushed skin… “This morning. When I woke up,” she blurted out, trying to get away from such thoughts.
“And what does Lord Tyrion have to say about this?”
“He isn’t aware of it yet. We don’t share a bed.”
In truth, their marriage was a bad joke, like so much of her life these last few years. The laughter had started with Cersei after Sansa had first presented, followed by Joffery when he’d set her aside for Margaery, culminating with the guests at her wedding. The dwarf lord and the alpha lady, forced together for all the court to mock and revile; no joke could’ve amused those monsters more.
Margaery nodded in understanding. “I know your marriage isn’t what you would’ve chosen, but a mate is supposed to help you with these sorts of situations. Do you think Tyrion would be willing to do so, if you asked?”
“I don’t know,” Sansa admitted, dipping her head. The Imp’s lusts were a popular subject of court gossip, but so far, he had shown no urgency to lay with her. Whether that was because he too was disgusted, or because he sensed her lack of desire, or because he preferred the company of other women, Sansa couldn’t say. “Even if he was, I don’t think I could do… that with him… his family, what they did to my mother and my brother…”
Her words trailed off, replaced by a soft sob as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to brush them away, even as Margaery placed a hand on her shoulder. Her scent filled Sansa’s nostrils, honeysuckle and summer winds and something sweeter and less nameable.
In spite of her sorrows, Sansa’s member twitched, pressing against the smallclothes she had tried to hide it in. She hated herself for being aroused at this moment, but her body was beyond her control. Like everything else in my life.
Margaery was undismayed. “Then I suppose I’ll have to find another solution. After all, I would hardly be much of a friend if I left you in this state.”
Sansa starred at Margaery with dull eyes. Some dim part of her brain thought it knew what the omega was suggesting, but she couldn’t actually accept that truth. “What do you mean?” she mumbled.
Margaery smiled affectionately, running her fingers through Sansa’s long, red hair. “Come now, my dear, I should think it’s obvious how I feel about you. And unless I’m very much mistaken, you share those feelings.”
She did. Gods, but she did. And yet Sansa’s gut twisted at the prospect of admitting her desires aloud. Margaery was going to marry the king. The things the Lannisters would do to her if they found out she wanted to mate with Joffery’s future bride were too horrible to contemplate. “I can’t,” she stammered.
Margaery stroked her hair reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Sansa. It’s just us. Nothing you say here will hurt you.”
Sansa swallowed hard. Despite everything, she trusted Margaery, even with such a dangerous secret. “Yes,” she whispered, “I do feel the same way.”
“Wonderful.”
The delight contained in that one word was enough to make Sansa’s heart flutter. It was evident that Margaery wanted to do this with her, not just because she was a caring friend but for herself. “So what do we do?”
“Nothing, right now.” Margaery grinned mischievously. “We hardly have much privacy here in the gardens, after all.”
“I suppose not,” Sansa agreed, but she couldn’t keep her face from falling. To gain the hope of relief and then find out it was to be delayed had only heightened the day’s agony.
Margaery seemed to sense her distress, shaking her head sympathetically. “You really are in a bad way, aren’t you, my Sansa?”
“I suppose I am,” Sansa whispered, scarcely able to breath as she waited to see what Margaery would do about that.
“Very well then.” Margaery looked back to make sure that the guards remained safely out of sight before motioning toward the edge of the lookout. “This will be easier if we’re sitting down.”
Sansa did as she’d been bidden, settling down in the grass. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, excitement and trepidation warring against one another. Was they really going to do this? Her need was practically chocking her with its intensity, and yet, if they were to be discovered…
Margaery sat down beside her, lacing their fingers together. “Gods, you’re tense, Sansa. Just relax; you’ll be feeling better soon enough.”
Sansa drew in a deep breath and released it, trying to expel at least a bit of her fear along with the air. It worked for a moment, but as soon as Margaery’s hand slid over to her thigh, Sansa tensed once more. No one had ever touched her like this, and she had no idea what to do next.
But Margaery does, she reminded herself. Her lover was far more experienced, at least judging by their previous conversations, and Sansa had to trust that she was in good hands.
Before Sansa could be worry any further, Margaery leaned over, drawing their lips together. The kiss that followed was so soft, and sweeter than anything Sansa could remember. She felt as if she could drown in it forever, but soon enough, Margaery was pulling back, her attention shifting lower.
Sansa’s cock had formed a sizeable tent in her smallclothes, dampening them with the copious amount of precome already spilling out. Margaery looked it up and down, her eyes sparkling. “This does seem like quite the serious situation. Let’s see what I can do about it.”
Her hand slid inside Sansa’s smalls and the alpha groaned as she felt slim fingers wrap around her member, drawing her out into the open air. Just that first touch made her twitch, fresh fluid spilling out of the aching head. “Margaery,” she whimpered. “Please…”
Margaery started slowly, her hand gliding up and down Sansa’s shaft as if she was learning its contours. Sansa trembled but her lover’s other arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her steady. “You feel lovely, my Sansa,” Margaery purred in her ear. “Nice and warm and slick.”
A chocked sound slipped out of Sansa’s throat. She had little enough experience with self-pleasure, but it was still enough to tell her that she was already riding the edge of an enormous release. “Margaery, if you keep doing that, I’ll…”
“Good. That’s what I want. You, spilling all over my hand, right now….”
Her thumb brushed over the slippery head of Sansa’s cock and Sansa lurched forward, unable to control her body’s reactions. Her whole world had centered itself on the sensitive flesh that Margaery was stroking. She rocked back and forth helplessly, thrusting up into Margaery’s hand for a few more blissful seconds and then, with stunning speed, she was coming apart.
Her shaft pulsed hard, the first spurt of her come shooting out to cover Margaery’s hand in thick fluid. A second followed but before the third, Margaery bent down, sucking the head of Sansa’s cock between her lips. The wet heat there felt even better than her hand, making Sansa come harder still. What felt like an endless torrent of her release poured out into the omega’s greedy mouth, Margaery eagerly taking everything she had to give.
Only when Sansa’s cock had stopped twitching did Margaery pull off, swallowing with gusto. As a wide-eyed Sansa watched, she then licked first her lips and then her fingers clean of the rest, smiling all the while. “We couldn’t have you making a mess all over your clothes, now could we?”
All Sansa could do was pant with relief, sitting there slack-jawed while Margaery pulled her smalls back up and adjusted her dress. “There. That should hold you for now.”
“For now?” Sansa repeated dumbly. Though her shaft was still hard, it wasn’t as painfully rigid as before and her body was no longer consumed by the pain of her rut, but her brain wasn’t working properly yet either.
“Of course. My hands aren’t going to be enough to satisfy you, but for what is, we’re going to require some privacy. For now, you need to go back to your chambers and wait. Don’t worry; I’ll be seeing you soon enough.”