Jeoffrey: The Hedonist (SI)

The air in the godswood was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the whisper of leaves creating a soft, intimate backdrop as Joffrey led Sansa through the ancient trees. No guards followed; this was a private conversation, one where he could mold her mind as he pleased, without the prying eyes of the court.

They walked slowly, talking about trivial things—how the weather was changing, the bloom of the blue winter roses, and the subtle differences between the Northern godswood and the one in King's Landing. But Joffrey's mind was far from mundane matters; his thoughts simmered with dark intent, a hunger that sharpened his words when he finally broached the real topic.

"Do you know how babies are made, Sansa?" His tone was casual, but there was a glint in his eyes, a predator's amusement watching its prey.

Sansa hesitated, her cheeks coloring as she looked away, fingers nervously playing with the fur trim of her cloak. "I... I know a little. A man and a woman, they... they lie together. And then, a child comes."

Joffrey snorted, his laugh cold and mocking. "That's what they tell you, isn't it? But there's more to it than just lying together. It's about pleasure, too. If it doesn't feel good, how could it make strong, healthy children?" He watched her, eyes gleaming as the innocence on her face twisted into confusion and curiosity.

Sansa bit her lip, clearly torn between propriety and the undeniable pull of wanting to know more. "I've never heard of it... being pleasurable," she admitted quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

Joffrey stepped closer, brushing a stray curl from her face, his touch lingering just long enough to make her shiver. "That's because they've kept you in the dark, Sansa. It should be pleasurable, especially for someone like you—someone destined to be queen." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, watching the conflict play out in her blue eyes.

"But you don't have to take my word for it. You can experiment, find out what you like." Joffrey's voice dropped lower, smooth and coaxing. "Try it with another woman. You need to be ready for when we're wed, for when you join my harem. I expect my queen to know pleasure, to crave it."

Sansa's eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. "Experiment... with another woman? That's... that's not proper."

Joffrey smirked, his grin sharp and wicked. "Proper? It's only improper if you're not careful. And it's not like you'd be doing it with just anyone. It would have to be with someone you're close to, someone who can guide you. Not your father, of course—that would be wrong." He tilted his head, watching her reaction carefully.

Sansa's breath hitched, her mind racing. The very idea was scandalous, wrong in so many ways... and yet, Joffrey's words twisted in her ears, made sense in a way that unsettled her deeply. She swallowed hard, nodding slowly, her expression resolved, as if something inside her had shifted.

"I... I understand," she said softly, her voice a blend of trepidation and newfound determination. She turned away, her footsteps hurried as she left the godswood, her thoughts already tangled in dark, forbidden fantasies that Joffrey had planted, fantasies she couldn't quite ignore.

Joffrey watched her go, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He knew exactly where her thoughts would lead her, and he reveled in the knowledge that he'd set the stage for her to explore her own desires—with her mother, no less. The game was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see what Sansa would do next.

Sansa stood outside Arya's door, her heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird. She had considered approaching her mother, but the thought of discussing such intimate matters with Catelyn made her insides twist with anxiety. No, she couldn't do it. But the seeds of curiosity and desire that Joffrey had planted within her were growing, demanding to be explored. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Sansa slipped into Arya's room, nerves fraying her every movement. She shouldn't be here—shouldn't be doing this—but Joffrey's words had planted a seed in her mind that she couldn't shake. He'd told her to explore, to learn what pleasure was like before her wedding night, so that she wouldn't be afraid when the time came. But it wasn't Joffrey's insistence that troubled her most—it was her own burning curiosity. The idea that this secret world of touch and feeling could be hers to discover, to understand, before anyone else had a say.

Arya looked up from her bed, her eyes wide with surprise. "Sansa? What are you doing here?"

Sansa closed the door behind her, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She couldn't find the words to express what she wanted, what she needed. She only knew that she was drawn to Arya, that she felt a connection, a safety with her sister that she couldn't explain. She stepped closer, her eyes locked onto Arya's. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she cupped Arya's cheek.

Arya's brows furrowed, confusion written across her face. "Sansa, what are you—?"

Sansa leaned in, pressing her lips to Arya's. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, a question more than a statement. Arya stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. Sansa could feel her sister's surprise, her confusion, but she persisted, her lips moving against Arya's, her hand sliding from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

After a moment, Arya began to respond, her lips parting, her body relaxing. Sansa deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping into Arya's mouth, exploring, tasting. A soft moan escaped Arya's lips, and Sansa felt a thrill of excitement course through her. But as they pulled away, both sisters were left breathless and uncertain.

"Sansa, what... what was that?" Arya asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching Sansa's face for answers.

Sansa bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I... I don't know. I just... I wanted to try something. To feel something."

Arya's confusion deepened, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Feel what?"

Sansa hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. "Pleasure. Joffrey said... he said it should be pleasurable. And I wanted to know what that felt like."

Arya's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she looked at Sansa with a mix of confusion and intrigue. "And you thought... you thought I could help you with that?"

Sansa nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "I trust you, Arya. I thought maybe... maybe we could figure it out together."

Arya bit her lip, her eyes flicking between Sansa's face and the rest of her body. She was clearly uncertain, but there was a glimmer of desire in her eyes, a hunger that matched Sansa's own. "I... I don't know what to do," Arya admitted, her voice soft.

Sansa smiled, a small, nervous smile. "Neither do I. But maybe... maybe we can figure it out."

They stood there for a moment, their breaths coming in sync, their eyes locked onto each other. Then, slowly, Sansa reached out, her hands trembling as she began to unlace Arya's dress. Arya watched her, her eyes wide, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. But she didn't stop her.

Sansa slipped the dress off Arya's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes roamed over Arya's body, taking in the soft curves, the smooth skin. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of Arya's collarbone, the swell of her breasts. Arya shivered beneath her touch, her nipples hardening, her breath hitching.

"Is this... is this okay?" Sansa asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Arya nodded, her eyes locked onto Sansa's. "It feels... it feels good."

Sansa smiled, her hands growing bolder as she explored Arya's body. She leaned in, her lips finding Arya's neck. She kissed her, her tongue flicking out, tasting her skin. Arya moaned, her head falling back, her hands reaching up to tangle in Sansa's hair. Sansa sucked at her flesh, her teeth grazing her skin, leaving marks of possession.

Arya's hands found the laces of Sansa's dress, fumbling with them in her haste. Sansa helped her, and soon, her dress joined Arya's on the floor. They stood there, bare-skinned and breathless, their eyes roaming over each other's bodies.

Sansa reached out, her hands finding Arya's breasts. She cupped them, her thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing a gasp from deep within Arya's chest. Arya mirrored her actions, her hands exploring Sansa's body, her fingers tracing the lines of her curves.

They moved closer, their bodies pressing together, their breath mingling. Sansa could feel the heat of Arya's skin, the dampness of her sweat, the hardness of her nipples. She could smell her, a musky, intoxicating scent that made her head spin.

She reached down, her hand slipping between Arya's legs. She found her wet, slick with desire. She began to rub, her fingers sliding through her folds, her thumb finding her clit. Arya moaned, her hips bucking against Sansa's hand, her breath coming in quick, desperate gasps.

Arya's hand found Sansa's core, her fingers mimicking Sansa's actions. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, their hands working in tandem, their breaths coming in sync. The room filled with the sound of their moans, the wet, slick noise of their fingers sliding through each other's folds.

But they were both uncertain, both fumbling in their inexperience. Sansa's hand slipped, her fingers sliding too roughly against Arya's clit. Arya winced, her breath hitching in pain. Sansa pulled back, her eyes wide with apology.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with regret.

Arya smiled, her hand reaching up to cup Sansa's cheek. "It's okay. We're both... we're both learning."

Sansa nodded, her eyes locked onto Arya's. She leaned in, her lips finding Arya's once more. They kissed, their tongues tangling, their breaths mingling. They were both uncertain, both fumbling, but they were both eager to learn, to explore, to discover.

They moved to the bed, their bodies tangled together, their hands roaming, their mouths exploring. They kissed and sucked at each other's necks, their teeth grazing skin, leaving marks of possession. They found each other's breasts, their mouths latching onto nipples, their tongues flicking, their teeth nipping.

They moaned and gasped, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in their chests. They were both lost in the sensation, both consumed by the pleasure. But they were both still uncertain, both still fumbling.

Sansa pulled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked down at Arya, her eyes filled with desire, with hunger, with uncertainty. "I want... I want to taste you," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need.

Arya's eyes widened, but she nodded, her body trembling with anticipation. Sansa moved down her body, her lips trailing kisses along her skin. She found her core, her tongue flicking out, tasting her, exploring her. Arya moaned, her hips bucking, her body writhing beneath Sansa's touch.

Sansa licked her, her tongue sliding through her folds, her mouth sucking at her clit. Arya cried out, her hands tangling in Sansa's hair, her body convulsing with pleasure. Sansa could feel her sister's orgasm, could taste her release, could hear her cries of ecstasy.

When it was over, Sansa moved back up Arya's body, her own body trembling with need. Arya looked up at her, her eyes filled with gratitude, with love, with desire. She reached up, her hand cupping Sansa's cheek, her thumb brushing against her lips.

"Your turn," she whispered, her voice soft, her eyes filled with promise.

Sansa smiled, her body aching with anticipation. She lay back on the bed, her body open, her heart pounding. Arya moved down her body, her lips trailing kisses along her skin. She found her core, her tongue flicking out, tasting her, exploring her.

Sansa moaned, her hips bucking, her body writhing beneath Arya's touch. She could feel the pleasure building within her, a tight, coiling sensation in her belly. She could feel her sister's mouth on her, her tongue lashing against her clit, her fingers sliding deep inside her.

She cried out, her body convulsing, her hips grinding against Arya's mouth. She came hard, her juices flooding Arya's face, her body shaking with the force of her release. She rode out her orgasm, her body trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

When it was over, they lay there, their bodies tangled together, their breaths slowing, their hearts pounding in sync. They looked at each other, their eyes filled with wonder, with gratitude, with love.

"Thank you," Sansa whispered, her voice soft, her eyes filled with tears.

Arya smiled, her hand reaching up to cup Sansa's cheek. "Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with the same emotion.

They lay there in silence for a moment, their bodies cooling, their breaths slowing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Sansa's face. She had done it. She had explored the pleasures of the flesh, had tasted the forbidden fruit. And she had liked it. No, she had loved it. And she knew, in that moment, that she would do it again. That she would explore, experiment, discover. That she would be ready for Joffrey, ready to be his queen, his lover, his plaything. And she would enjoy every moment of it.

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