my lips got lost (Mya/Sansa) - Thoney_wheelerJuly 16 2012, 08:11:16 UTC
She’s just about the loveliest girl Mya has ever known. It’s nothing that Mya could ever point to, though few would ever contest Sansa’s beauty, especially now that she’s reclaimed herself, taken back her Stark name and let her hair grow in red and shining. Mya had been shocked to learn of her true identity, but not all so shocked once she thought about it; Alayne had never seemed quite right, and it’s a relief to find that this was why. But as beautiful as Sansa is, surely other women are just as beautiful if not more so, legendary beauties like Cersei Lannister and Margaery Tyrell. Mya could not say just what it is about Sansa that makes her a hundred times lovelier than any other in Mya’s eyes. How to explain the tilt of her head when she listens to Mya speak, or the way she bites her lip and gives the tiniest smile when something truly pleases her. How to tell them of the way Sansa’s voice is like silk on Mya’s skin when she whispers at night in her bed, pulling up the linens over their heads and turning to Mya, curling to face her so close that Mya can feel the puff of her breath and taste the sweetness of it on her lips, like the lavender sugar on the cakes that Sansa says she favors most, though sometimes Mya sees her eyeing the lemoncakes like they’re something denied to her.
Sansa is even lovelier in the baths they share, her long, red hair piled atop her head with curling tendrils trailing loose to stick to her damp cheeks and neck, one long curl dipping into the water and fanning out into red fingers that swirl and reach each time Sansa moves. The water beads on her delicate collarbones, warm enough to have her cheeks and the slope of her chest and her knees where they break through the water flushing pink and sweet, and all Mya wants to do is close the distance between them, to leave her side of the copper tub and lie between Sansa’s cocked knees, to lick every bead of moisture from her collarbone and push her tongue between Sansa’s soft coral lips and let her suck that moisture from Mya’s tongue. Sansa would be so sweet to kiss, Mya knows that better than she knows anything, and it makes these baths with her a sweet torment, but it’s one she’d never give up.
Sansa is even lovelier in the baths they share, her long, red hair piled atop her head with curling tendrils trailing loose to stick to her damp cheeks and neck, one long curl dipping into the water and fanning out into red fingers that swirl and reach each time Sansa moves. The water beads on her delicate collarbones, warm enough to have her cheeks and the slope of her chest and her knees where they break through the water flushing pink and sweet, and all Mya wants to do is close the distance between them, to leave her side of the copper tub and lie between Sansa’s cocked knees, to lick every bead of moisture from her collarbone and push her tongue between Sansa’s soft coral lips and let her suck that moisture from Mya’s tongue. Sansa would be so sweet to kiss, Mya knows that better than she knows anything, and it makes these baths with her a sweet torment, but it’s one she’d never give up.
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