#he’s bit silly but we’ll forgive him because of his pretty privilege

[persephoneflouwers]

Did I ever mention my celebrity crush on Cristiano Caccamo? No? Never? Let me fix this

[0writerchick0]

Lord Grasper

The crisp autumn air was creeping into Petyr’s flat, seeping through the cracks of each window and door, freezing over the hardwood flooring as if it were an ice skating rink. She rather liked sweater weather, but even this was growing too cold for her. It would certainly be too cold for Petyr, a man who preferred a warm southern climate.

She stuck a bare foot out from under the covers to test the temperature. She quickly recoiled, feeling the stinging chill of an inhospitable atmosphere. She turned into the warm body next to her and pressed her face against the beating chest she knew quite well. “Petyr,” she whispered into the scar that trailed from nape to navel.

“Hm?” He groaned.

She let her fingers play in the hair that sprinkled his chest, more pepper than salt, though she loved those bits too. She especially appreciated the dignified streaks of silver at each temple and the flecks of it in his facial hair. They were all signs that he was much older than her and she couldn’t have adore him more for it. What need did she have of some boy still trying to figure out his future, especially when she got herself a man? “I’m cold, can you turn the heat on?”

In an instant, his arm flopped over her, pulling her into a tight embrace. His voice was sleepy as he declared, “Then we’ll just have to use each other for warmth.”

“Petyr,” she smiled as she shoved him to let her go. “Come on! Get up.”

“Sorry, lost all motivation to move,” he yawned into her neck.

The hard lump against her belly grew and pushed into her as she wiggled in his arms. She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Really? All motivation? Because I’m feeling at least one part of you is up for moving.”

His hand reached down to the hem of her shirt and tugged it upwards. “If you’re really cold, you should take your clothes off.”

“Ha!” She rolled her eyes at him, struggling to pull her shirt down. “Petyr Baelish! Your future wife is freezing, will you do absolutely nothing about it?”

His goatee tickled her jaw as he nipped her ear. “I’m trying to. You refuse to get naked so that I can warm your body with mine.”

She slapped at his chest, biting her lip with joy at the impropriety of it. “Petyr, come on. I’m really cold. Stop thinking with your dick.”

He grabbed her by the waistband of her pajama shorts, yanking her closer to him, as he ground his pelvis against hers in one rough movement. She looked up quickly, her view eclipsed by warm grey-green eyes that stared back at her. He was awake, and by the bruise that was forming against her hip bone, she could tell he was wide awake. His lips spread into a naughty grin as he said, “I don’t have to think with my dick, Sansa. Where you’re concerned, it’s got a mind of its own.” His hand slid down her shorts, squeezing her ass.

She swallowed, her mouth watering, responding to a primal urge she hadn’t yet fully accepted at this time of the day with so many things to accomplish lying ahead. “Petyr, we shouldn’t.”

Not handling rejection well, he sighed, “I only meant body heat. You know, like when you’re trying to survive out in the wilderness. It only really works with skin to skin contact.”

“Or you could just get out of bed and turn the heat on, like a gentleman,” Sansa scoffed, pulling his hands out of her shorts.

“Now, sweetling,” he grinned. “You didn’t accept my proposal because you wanted a gentleman.” His hand slid back under her shirt, holding the small of her back. “And besides, you don’t have class for another two hours, and I don’t have to go into work until I decide to–boss’s privilege.”

He wasn’t wrong. About any of it. She hadn’t wanted a gentleman at all, not after she met Petyr Baelish, the most accomplished man in the city. He ran many businesses, was on the board to so many more, and held the keys to the city itself. He stayed out of the papers, held no major political office, and would never be known by anyone casually observing. That was what she loved about him most, he preferred his life behind the scenes, pulling the strings, controlling the show. He didn’t need the attention of the spotlight, only the power that the staging controls gave. She didn’t want some pretty boy that would push her out of a picture to afford himself a better angle, but instead a man who would make her his focal point.

That was Petyr. To a tee. From the moment he’d seen her, he refused to see anyone else. She was with someone at the time and he was relentless in his pursuit of her, allowing nothing and no one to stand between them. Their first date was in the middle of her date with another. Petyr waited until her gentleman-friend went to the bar to get them drinks, before he swooped in. His words were smooth and they slid her legs apart long before she was cognizant of what moral code of conduct they were violating.

Her date blew up her phone with text messages from the table that he sat alone at, with only their drinks to keep him company. She didn’t notice the repeated vibration of her phone as she and Petyr got to know each other more intimately in the back of a cab on the way to his place. When she woke up the next morning, and read the messages, she felt the unbearable weight of guilt settle over her. Petyr held her close and gave her understanding and forgiveness for a crime they committed together. He offered her acceptance during a time when she was too distraught to find it in herself.

From that morning on, they were inseparable. He made sure of it and she allowed it. Encouraged it. Looked forward to it. Needed it. Him.

She sighed happily in his arms, her mind wandering to the past, and a time before then. “Do you think it’s always been like this?”

His fingers brushed strands of her bright red hair off of her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. “What do you mean?”

“Like, throughout time?” She blushed a little at how silly she might sound. “Like do you think couples like us were around in the dark ages, snuggling and arguing over who would turn the heat on?”

“Do you mean, do I think there were couples in the dark ages that had one person being cockblocked by the other’s education?” Petyr kissed her chin, his smug smirk downright devilish.

She groaned, “Petyr! You know what I mean. Like back in time, do you think there was a couple like us laying in a bed, in front of a fireplace, freezing in a bundle of furs teasing and arguing over who would get up and light the fire?”

“There would be no argument. As the man, I’d be expected to light the fire.” Petyr shrugged.

“Well that’s stupid,” she laughed. “I’m too independent for that.”

Petyr chuckled and kissed her jaw. “Indeed. However, you may not have been back then. You’d be Lady Stark.”

“If I’d be Lady Stark, then you’d be the great Lord Baelish,” she teased, rather liking the sound of that.

He paused for a moment, his cheek twitching as his eyes stared off in a distance over her shoulder. She wanted to turn around and see what he saw, but fought the urge. She didn’t want her movement to upset him. “Petyr?”

He shook his head, a forced smile. “Probably not.”

“Probably not, what?” When he didn’t answer, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Hmm, Petyr? Probably not, what?”

He closed his eyes. “I didn’t grow up with money, like you.” He smiled, knowingly. “I’m not saying anything negative about your upbringing, so don’t get all offended.” He sighed, “I’m only saying that I had to work very hard to get to where I am, which some could argue isn’t exactly anywhere important. I’d probably be considered just another grasper from a minor house.”

She stared back into his eyes, recognizing the full extent of his vulnerability. It bothered her to see him so upset and she instantly wanted to soothe him, so she sat up and peeled her shirt off. He opened his mouth to flirt and she stifled him with a finger to his lips. “Skin to skin, Petyr. That’s all.”

He smiled as she shimmied closer to him, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. Her pebbled nipples ran across the soft scar that protruded, and the fine hair that tickled her goose pimpled flesh. His hand wandered down to her shorts and she gripped his wrist to stop him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He smirked. He loved to cross the line, moreso whenever she caught him. Incidentally, his pleasure turned her on so completely that she often lost her wits to the sensation. She cleared her throat, “So you wouldn’t be a lord?”

“Oh, no. I would be. I’m sure of that. Just perhaps, not necessarily a great and honorable one,” He shifted a little as if to get comfortable. She was not fooled, however, knowing his movement was only to allow her hardened nipples to better rub against his flesh.

Not very honorable, indeed. She smirked as she asked, “And how would the scoundrel Lord Grasper win the great Lady Stark?”

“By any means necessary, I’m sure,” he chuckled into her temple.

She bent her head and kissed his clavicle, letting her palm travel up his side. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because, as you well know, given the proper incentive,” he let his hand move from the small of her back to her ribs. His eyes dilated with desire as his thumb brushed the side of her breast. “I can be quite ambitious.”

The resulting stir she felt deep in her belly, convinced her to shift her shorts down her thighs, over her knees, until she was able to kick them to the foot of the bed in a rumpled pile under the blankets that shielded them from the frosty air. She let her hand slide up his back as she pressed the entirety of her nudity to him, and smiled bashfully when she realized he’d been completely naked all along. “You planned this.”

He smiled as his thumb found her nipple, his hand gaining more ground on her breast as he did. “I plan many things.” His eyes lit when she sighed in pleasure under his touch. “It’s what ambitious men do.” He lifted his head off the pillow to capture her lips in his, taking everything he could from her as he lifted her leg over his hip.