Sansa stood in a sea of swimsuits, piles climbing so high of castoffs she was worried she wouldn't be able to actually climb out and leave the dressing room anytime this century. Margaery had just insisted she get a new swimsuit before the pool party Robert Baratheon hosted ever year, exclaiming that she simply must have something new if she ever hoped to catch Joffrey's eye.

So she'd grumblingly agreed, despite the fact that they were now halfway through college and he still had yet to look beyond Margaery's sunny smile and shapely curves to even notice Sansa was there, slumping behind her as usual, feeling for all the world like a dandelion invading in a flowerbed of rosebushes.

Nearly fifty bikinis later (or so it felt like, though she had to admit she might have been a teensy bit dramatic) Sansa had narrowed it down to two options. The first was a very simple, very sexy light blue number with ties on both sides of the bottoms, and a matching halter top with a pretty little bow in the center of her chest between the two thin triangles that covered her breasts. Well, mostly. That was one area where she, thank the gods, had Margaery beat.

The second bikini was far more ostentatious, with a padded halter in a dizzying array of stripes of all different pastels, and a pretty twist to style up the crease between her now overflowing breasts. The bottom was simple, in a matching fabric pattern, but very slim in the actual coverage it provided in the backside department.

She had tried each one on multiple times, but just couldn't decide which was more flattering. The blue was elegant, simple, and classic; the patterned flashy, sexy, and sure to garner more than her fair share of attention. But would Joffrey really prefer the, if she were honest, sluttier option?

Did she actually want Joffrey if he did?

Sighing in frustration, and knowing that on a college budget there was no way she could afford to buy both, Sansa decided to snap a few pics of her in each bikini, and send them to Margaery for her, hopefully quick, input. Feeling a little wicked for daring to take scandalous photos in the dressing room, she tried to make the poses as blunt yet flattering as possible, before quickly redressing in her plaid shorts, t-shirt and flip flops.

Strolling out with both suits slung into her shopping basket, she decided it wouldn't hurt to stroll through the accessories as she waited for Margaery's reply. She'd organized her phone by last name, and without paying much attention selected all of the pictures, scrolled down to the first T, for Margaery was always first, and hit send.

Sansa: Which one?

Several minutes later Sansa heard her phone vibrate with the reply as she was trying on a new sunhat, and quickly hurried to unlock the screen to see which suit Margaery chose.

Sansa frowned in confusion at the name on the screen, not understanding for the life of her why she'd gotten a text from none other than Joffrey's widowed grandfather, Tywin Lannister. With a sinking swoop in her stomach and an increasing amount of dread, she nearly dropped her phone in her haste to slide open the text message, already having the dizzying feeling that she'd made a terrible mistake.

Tywin: Blue.

Sansa felt her entire body shake as her face flamed brighter than her hair at her embarrassment, and she quickly tried to type out a reply that would perhaps, with a hope and a prayer, lessen just a little bit her mortification.

Sansa: Mr. Lannister, I am so sorry. I had meant to send those to my friend and apparently selected you by mistake.

And then, because she was already damned and she just couldn't help herself-

Sansa: The blue one though? Truly?

Biting her lip as she saw the … pop up on her screen to indicate he was typing, she anxiously awaited his response.

Tywin: I feel at this point we are past formalities, Ms. Stark. If you would, please call me Tywin.

Tywin: … Yes, I've taken the liberty of a second review, and can assure you the blue is far more flattering.

Huffing in annoyance, and momentarily forgetting her mind and the fact that she should the positively humiliated, she couldn't help but question his claim.

Sansa: What?! What was wrong with the striped one? I thought it was quite flattering, just perhaps a bit to showy.

Tywin: It certainly highlighted your… assets. I find that a woman of refinement and taste does not need any… highlights… to shine.

Blushing as she read his text and made her way to the register, she couldn't help the silly grin that spread over her face as she typed out a reply.

Sansa: Are you saying I am a woman of refinement who shines on her own, Tywin? My, I hadn't known you to be a feminist.

She handed the clerk at the register her credit card, and pretended to ignore the little flip in her stomach when she felt the vibrations of his reply in her pocket. Making her way to her car, she was actually quite proud of herself for waiting to respond until she was buckled in and turning on the engine, letting the air cool down the cabin.

Tywin: I am a connoisseur of all things of the feminine persuasion, Sansa.

Blushing lightly at the dirty thoughts that text led her down, she opted to wait until her hormones had cleared, and her mind had snapped back to the reality that she was texting Joffrey's grandfather, and purposefully neglected to pick back up her phone to reply until she was parked in the lot outside her apartment, engine turned off.

Clicking on the button on the screen, she saw she'd missed another text from Tywin.

Tywin: Which swimsuit did you purchase?

Sansa: The blue.

Tywin: Good girl.

The next night, as Sansa got ready for bed, she couldn't stop giggling from her exchange the day before with Tywin Lannister. Even though it was completely appalling and more than a little mortifying that she'd accidentally sent him pictures in a bathing suit, she was more than a little turned on by the thought that maybe he had been turned on by it.

I mean, he was certainly engaged in their conversation, replying within minutes of each of her texts. Plus, he'd given her advice, and hinted that she shone without needing a flashy swimsuit. And she couldn't forget about that text about things of the feminine persuasion. Did he mean that as dirty as she thought he did?! Did she want to find out?!

Yes, she most certainly did. With a little liquid courage in the form of a tall glass of wine, Sansa sat back in the pillows on her bed and sent another text to Tywin Lannister.

Sansa: Busy?

Before she could even close the Messages tab she could see the … indicating he was replying.

Tywin: Yes. How may I be of service, Sansa?

She pursed her lips and swallowed back the odd sense of disappointment she felt at his response, hastily bidding him a goodnight.

Sansa: I apologize for the interruption. Have a nice evening!

Sitting her phone down on her nightstand, she reached for her book, not even able to flip open to her bookmark before she heard the distinctive buzz of a reply, reverberating into her lamp.

Tywin: What do you need?

Swallowing down her nerves and biting her lip to catch her smile, Sansa frowned as she realized she actually hadn't had a plan. She'd just wanted to talk to him, and maybe find out what exactly he'd meant by feminine pursuits. But she certainly couldn't just ask him that…

A sly grin spread as heat lit up her cheeks, so she swallowed down the rest of her glass of wine before she let her nerves get the better of her.

Sansa: I was wondering if your expertise on feminine pursuits extended beyond swimsuits…?

Tywin: Most assuredly. Please, continue.

Grinning, she stood up and walked with giddy purpose over towards her dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out several sets of lingerie Margaery had forced her to buy "just in case Joffrey does notice you and asks you out". She considered trying them on but blushed so fiercely she knew she just couldn't go through with it. Theoretically, she realized this wasn't all that different from a bathing suit, but it just felt so… personal, with all that sheer fabric and lace.

Arranging the three tops and bottoms artfully across her bedspread, Sansa snapped a picture and sent it along to Tywin.

Sansa: What do you recommend?

There was a long pause, and Sansa felt the butterflies in her belly might just fly right out of her chest at the thought that perhaps he was never being flirtatious with her at all. Maybe he was just being polite, and she'd stupidly read something that wasn't there into those texts? Maybe she was insane for texting someone's grandfather a picture of lingerie?! Good gods, what was the matter with her?

The vibrating phone on her nightstand snapped her attention, and she reached out and flicked open his reply impatiently.

Tywin: It would depend on the lady. Perhaps a visual demonstration might be appropriate?

Turning down her overhead light so that only her softer lamp lit up the room, Sansa stripped down and took turns modeling each set in front of her full-length mirror, careful to hide her face as she twisted and turned, catching the right angle before snapping a series of pictures.

Wondering what in seven hells she was doing, she quickly collected the images and hit send, noting the insistent tingling sensation beginning to overwhelm the apex between her thighs.

Ten minutes later, when he still had yet to respond, Sansa began to wonder whether this was all some trick, and perhaps he was sending the images to the newspaper, blowing them up and passing them around to friends, or gods, emailing them to her parents? Just as she began to prepare her apology, seated on her comforter in the third set of lingerie, her phone lit up with a response.

Tywin: I apologize for the delay, I was just returning home from a fundraiser and was unable to appreciate each image… appropriately.

Sansa: Understandable. Please, take your time.

Tywin: Thank you.

Tywin: Are you wearing one of these sets now, by chance?

Sansa: I am, the gold and crimson one, with the lace scallops and the ties made from ribbons.

Tywin: I find I am unable to pass judgment until you tell me more about each garment. Please make yourself comfortable on your pillows, follow my instructions implicitly, and I will be able to help you decide.

By now she was quite certain a wetness was trickling down to dampen the silk of the panties she was wearing, and she hoped beyond hope that Tywin was headed where she thought he was headed with this line of inquiry.

His next text made it quite clear.

Tywin: Tell me about the lace cups covering your breasts, Sansa. Is the lace soft as silk or scratchy and rough against your nipples?

Sansa: Soft, and it shifts when I move.

Tywin: And are you moving now?

Sansa: I was settling into a more… comfortable… position.

Tywin: I see. Are you able to text with one hand?

Sansa: I am.

Tywin: Very good. If you would, please use your left hand to lightly graze your fingertips across the delicate skin of your throat. Starting with the swath of skin below the lobe of your ear, trail your fingers around your neck, and then across first one, then the other, collarbone.

Sansa: Yes?

Tywin: Now, lightly trace the strap holding up that lacy bra, fingering the edging as you lightly brush against the skin, from the top of your shoulder down to the top of the triangle covering your breast.

Tywin: Follow the edge of the lacing, and trace up and down, over and around, each scallop on the bra, teasing the tops of your beautiful breasts, down around the sides, until you gently brush the soft skin of your belly, high on your ribs.

Tywin: Are you breathing heavier, Sansa?

Sansa: I am, I confess I am nearly panting and my legs are shifting uncomfortably.

Tywin: What do your breasts look like, heaving as your chest rises and falls with excitement, your alabaster skin flushed a beautiful shade of pink?

Sansa: They are nearly spilling out of the lace, Tywin, and my nipples are straining uncomfortably against the fabric. It feels quite scratchy now, actually.

Tywin: Perhaps it would be best if you removed it?

Sansa: Most certainly. I will do so, with your permission.

Tywin: Good girl. You may remove your bra, but you may not touch your stiff, pert little nipples.

Sansa: I've removed the bra.

Tywin: Have your nipples darkened, Sansa? Are they round and stiff and begging for attention?

Sansa: Yes, Tywin.

Tywin: Good. Now, we pick up where we left off. Do not shift your legs or move unless I tell you to, Sansa.

Sansa: Yes, Tywin.

Tywin: Now, I want you to trail your fingertips down to your navel and over to the side, tracing over your hip bone until you meet the top of the lace bottoms. Follow that lace on the soft, smooth skin of your lower abdomen underneath your navel, until you reach the other hipbone.

Tywin: Very carefully, with your pointer finger, I want you to tease a trail lightly across the top of the lace, until you are centered directly over the little jewel hidden beneath the lace.

Tywin: Are you wet, Sansa? Have you dampened your lovely lingerie?

Sansa: I've soaked right through, Tywin.

Tywin: Lightly stroke a path down from your clit to your core, teasing through the lace along the folds of your slit, pressing just enough that you are bucking and aching for more.

Tywin: Move back and forth, following that path, never pressing harder than a light press of your finger.

Tywin: How do you feel, Sansa?

Sansa: Oh, Tywin! I am aching. My panties are soaked, and my finger is providing an unbearably small amount of friction. I- I need more, Tywin. Please.

Sansa felt her phone start to ring in her right hand, and with a cry of alarm she realized it was none other than Tywin Lannister. She blushed crimson, and with shaking fingers slid open the screen and answered his call. "H-hello?" She said breathlessly, sounding for all the world like a woman in the middle of something quite scandalous. Which, of course, she was.

"Sansa, does your phone have a speaker?" His low, gravel voice shot straight between her thighs, and she shifted uncomfortably as she nodded, before realizing that of course he couldn't actually see her nod.

"Yes," she whispered quietly, still tracing that sinful trail over her dripping sex between her thighs.

"Put me on speaker, and set the phone down, Sansa."

She quickly obeyed, setting the phone down next to her ear on her pillow. "Ok, you're on speaker, Tywin," she whispered, flushing when she heard him make a sound that was quite close to a growl as she whispered his name.

"Good girl. Now, take your free hand, and gently begin to caress your nipples. Tease the first one by swirling slow circles around the tender underside of your breast, while you continue to use your other finger to trace lazily between your thighs."

Sansa was panting heavily now, and when finally brushed the stiff peak of her nipple, she bucked her hips and moaned, thrusting her chest into her hand.

"Now, you are deliciously wet and aching, aren't you, dear girl?"

"Yesss," she hissed on a whine, fighting for more friction as she tried desperately to obey his orders.

"You will be a good girl and let me hear your ever cry and moan, won't you, Sansa?"

"Yes, Tywin," she panted, still tracing down below, and working her hand across to toy with her other nipple that had been left alone and aching.

"Are you pretending it is my hands touching and teasing you, Sansa?"

"Oh, yes, Tywin," she moaned, arching her back and tossing her head as she realized that in fact, ever since she'd begun she was picturing the old lion caressing her skin.

He growled once more, and it led to a fresh wave of moisture pooling between her thighs. "Please, Tywin," she begged with a whine, shivering at the dark chuckle that rippled from the phone.

"You may add a second finger, Sansa, and you may begin to circle with pressure on your clit through your panties. Are you dripping wet, Sansa?"

She was panting heavily now, her circles getting faster and faster as she shut her eyes and pictured Tywin whispering into her ear, his warm body pressing hers into the matters. "I am. I am so, so wet, Tywin."

"Are your legs shaking, Sansa? Are you going to beg me prettily for your release?"

"Oh yes, oh please, Tywin. My legs are shaking, and – ahhhh – I feel so good. Please, Tywin. Please – ohhh – I – "

"Slide your hand into your panties Sansa, and slide your other hand down so that one is circling your clit, while you use two fingers to tease your core before thrusting inside. Do you feel yourself clenching down on your fingers, Sansa? Are you thinking of my fingers thrusting deep inside you? Are you thinking of my tongue licking your clit, flicking and sucking as I bring you to your peak?"

"Oh, yesssss, Tywin. Oh, please. I'm so close. Please!"

"Come for me, Sansa. Come for me, all over your fingers like the naughty girl you are."

With a loud moan that peaked into his name, Sansa came, liquid gushing out to coat her thighs as her legs shook and her entire body rocked and tightened luxuriously, before relaxing into a series of shivers and shakes, pleasure like none she'd ever know racing through to soothe even her fingertips and her toes.

Sighing, she collapsed back into her pillows, before flushing with alarm as she realized she was still on the phone. "Tywin?" She said quietly, noting that he was deathly silent and had been for quite some time.

"Would you like to text me tomorrow evening, Sansa? Say, around ten?"

Biting back a smile, Sansa nodded her head, before breathlessly replying. "Ten would be perfect, Tywin. I am very much looking forward to it."

"As am I," he nearly growled into the phone. "Please wear the green and black lingerie, so that we may test that thoroughly as well."