Jeoffrey: The Hedonist (SI)

The evening was fading into night as Joffrey led Sansa through the winding corridors of Winterfell, his hand firm around hers, guiding her with a confidence that made her heart race. The castle was quieter at this hour, the sounds of laughter and music from the great hall muffled by thick stone walls, leaving the air between them charged with anticipation. Sansa followed, her steps light, every glance from Joffrey's sharp blue eyes making her feel as though she were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He had told her they were going somewhere special, a place no one else would find them, and Sansa's mind spun with the possibilities. She was nervous, yes, but excited too, the thrill of being alone with him, of whatever he had planned, sending shivers through her. She had been learning from him, bit by bit, what it meant to be close, to want, to take, and every stolen moment with Joffrey left her hungrier for more.

They reached the base of the broken tower, its shadow looming over them like a secret waiting to be uncovered. The tower had stood abandoned for years, its top floors crumbling, the once-grand structure now weathered and worn, yet still sturdy enough to hold their clandestine rendezvous. Joffrey pulled Sansa close, pressing her back against the cold stone wall, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was demanding and sweet all at once.

Sansa's breath hitched, her fingers curling into his shirt as Joffrey's hands roamed her waist, his touch teasing and possessive. "This way," he whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. He tugged her along, leading her up the narrow, winding staircase, each step echoing with the soft, hurried beat of their footsteps.

As they ascended, Joffrey's kisses grew bolder, his hands sliding under the fabric of Sansa's dress, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her thighs. He would pause every few steps, pushing her against the wall, claiming her mouth with his, his touch growing more insistent, more knowing. Sansa gasped, her mind reeling, her senses overwhelmed by the heat of his kisses, the way his body pressed against hers, hard and unyielding.

"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Joffrey murmured, his voice a low growl against her ear as they reached the top of the tower. "I'm going to show you everything, Sansa. I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before."

Sansa nodded, her cheeks flushed, her body trembling with a mix of fear and desire. She knew what he meant, what he wanted, and though the thought terrified her, it also thrilled her. Joffrey opened the door to the top floor, and they stepped inside, the cool night air rushing in through the broken windows.

But they were not alone.

Sansa's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight before her. Myrcella and Cersei were entangled on the floor, their bodies twisted together in a way that was both shocking and strangely mesmerizing. Myrcella's golden hair was spread out in wild waves, her lips locked with her mother's in a passionate kiss, her hands exploring Cersei's curves with eager, unrestrained hunger. Cersei's eyes were half-lidded, her expression a mixture of bliss and wickedness, her fingers tangled in Myrcella's hair, guiding her closer.

Sansa gasped, instinctively stepping back, her mind struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. She felt a surge of confusion, of embarrassment, her cheeks burning as she watched the scene unfold. But Joffrey's grip tightened on her, pulling her closer, his demeanor calm, almost casual, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

"Don't be shy," Joffrey whispered, his voice smooth and reassuring. "They're just enjoying themselves. You should watch. It's all part of what I want to show you." He led her forward, his hand guiding her until they were mere steps away from Cersei and Myrcella, close enough to see every touch, every breathy moan that passed between them.

Sansa's heart pounded in her chest as she watched, her eyes darting between Cersei's parted lips and Myrcella's flushed cheeks, the way their bodies moved together in a dance that was both intimate and forbidden. She felt like an intruder, but she couldn't look away, her gaze drawn to the way Cersei's hands roamed her daughter's body, the way Myrcella responded with soft, breathless whimpers that sent a shiver down Sansa's spine.

Joffrey wrapped an arm around Sansa's waist, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, "See how natural it is? How beautiful? There's nothing to be afraid of." His words were soft, almost coaxing, and Sansa found herself leaning into him, her breath hitching as she took in the scene before her.

Cersei's eyes flicked up, catching Joffrey's gaze with a knowing, sultry smile. She didn't stop, didn't pull away—if anything, she seemed to relish the audience, her touch growing bolder as she guided Myrcella's kisses lower, down her neck, over the soft curve of her chest. Sansa could feel the heat radiating from Joffrey, the way his breath quickened, and she knew that he was enjoying this, savoring every moment.

And then, he turned his attention back to Sansa, his hands slipping under her dress, lifting the fabric higher as he pulled her closer. "I want you, Sansa," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Right here, right now. Let them see. Let them help. I want you to feel everything."

Sansa hesitated, her mind spinning, but Joffrey's touch was insistent, his hands guiding her until she was straddling his lap, her body pressed against his in a way that made her gasp. Cersei and Myrcella watched, their eyes gleaming with dark amusement, but they made no move to leave, their presence a constant, tantalizing reminder of the taboo they were about to break.

Joffrey's lips found Sansa's neck, kissing and biting softly, sending jolts of pleasure through her. Sansa's fingers clutched at his shoulders, her head tilting back as she let herself be drawn into the moment, her senses overwhelmed by the heat of his touch, the low murmurs of Cersei's and Myrcella's moans nearby.

Cersei moved closer, her hand brushing against Sansa's thigh, her touch light and teasing. "You're so sweet, Sansa," Cersei purred, her voice a soft, sultry whisper. "You deserve to feel good. Let me show you." She leaned in, her fingers guiding Sansa's hand down Joffrey's chest, encouraging her to explore the hard muscles beneath. Sansa's breath caught, her fingers trembling as she felt the ridges of his abs, the warmth of his skin.

Myrcella, emboldened by her mother's lead, moved closer as well, her hands gentle but eager as she touched Joffrey's arm, her fingers tracing the lines of his bicep. Joffrey smirked, clearly enjoying the attention, his grip tightening on Sansa's hips as he guided her movements, encouraging her to take what she wanted.

Sansa's world became a blur of heat and sensation, her mind overwhelmed by the strange, thrilling mix of touches and whispers, the way Cersei's hands roamed her body, the way Myrcella's soft lips brushed against her shoulder. Joffrey's kisses were insistent, his touch guiding her, teasing her, pushing her toward the edge of a pleasure she had never known.

As they moved together, Sansa felt as if she were floating, lost in a haze of desire, every touch sending sparks of heat through her veins. She could feel Joffrey beneath her, his body hard and demanding, and every gasp, every moan from Cersei and Myrcella only heightened the intensity of the moment. Sansa's senses were alive, every touch a new discovery, every kiss a promise of something more.

By the time they were finished, Sansa was breathless, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, her mind spinning with the intensity of what she had experienced. She looked at Joffrey, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide and dazed, and she knew that she had crossed a line she could never uncross. But she didn't care. She had felt something she had never felt before, something that made her feel alive in a way she had never known.

Joffrey kissed her gently, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering touch that sent one final shiver down her spine. "You were perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with a dark, possessive pride. Sansa nodded, her head resting against his shoulder, her body still humming with the echoes of their shared pleasure.

And as they left the tower, the night air cool against their flushed skin, Sansa couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous, far more intoxicating than she ever thought possible.

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