He's not sure where Sansa's boldness is coming from, maybe from pent up frustration, or from the relief of knowing she'll soon be safe from Joffrey, but he doesn't really question it. Tyrion lets her pull him to the bed. He climbs up and sits on the edge, unsure what to expect.

Sansa stands before him and bites her lower lip playfully as she unfastens the front of her gown. Letting the fabric fall to the ground, she then pulls her slip over her head and throws it to the side.

She's completely nude now and Tyrion is certain he is either dreaming, or has died and the gods have seen fit to reward him with eternal paradise.

When he doesn't say anything or respond, Sansa starts to fidget and he can see doubt start to cloud her features.

She is just starting to raise her arms to cover herself when he speaks.

"Forgive me, my lady," he insists, his voice reverent, "but your beauty is beyond all I've imagined and I find myself in awe. For what is probably the first time in my life, I am speechless."

Tyrion has seen many, many, naked women in his life. Each different, and each beautiful in there own way. His tastes vary and he has never found himself to hold to any certain preference above another. He likes tall women, short women, thin women, big women, red heads, brunettes, and blondes… the point is, he has found much to marvel at in the female form over the years, and yet, none of them come close to the perfection of his wife.

Sansa, with her flat stomach and blossoming hips, her perky breasts and rosy nipples, the way her skin flushes under his gaze, is absolutely breathtaking. What makes her truly perfect, though, is the total innocence that radiates from her. That and the expression on her face, the one that says she trusts him. That she wants him.

And not because I am paying her to, or because she is trying to extract a favor… she actually wants me.

Sansa smiles and takes two steps forward so she is standing right between his legs. Tyrion reaches out and places his hands on her hips. He can feel her shaking and realizes that despite her confident display, she is terrified.

"You don't have to be afraid," he tells her. "I meant what I said on our wedding day. I won't ever hurt you. If you want to stop, just say the word and we will stop."

"I don't want to stop," she whispers.

"Then why don't we begin," Tyrion offers cheekily reaching for her hand, and pulling her onto the bed with him.

"I'm not sure I know what to do. I don't want to be a disappointment."

Sansa stares down at the bed, and he can tell she is feeling self-conscious.

"You could never disappoint me," he swears.

She glances up briefly, nervously.

"Why don't you lie back, and I'll help you relax? Just let your body react the way it wants to. Don't hold back, and trust your instincts."

Sansa slides into the middle of the bed and lies down, her gorgeous hair fanning out around her.


Sansa fidgets with the blankets beneath her, clutching them anxiously.

He's been with so many women… women who's job it is to satisfy men. How can I compare? How can I live up to the standard he's used to?

Feather light touches on her stomach draw her attention outwards and she looks up to see Tyrion staring down at her in wonderment.

His hands are gentle as they stroke her, causing goose bumps to prickle her skin. He runs one hand upwards, between her breasts, and back down.

Tyrion shifts his position so he can lean down and reach her lips. This time the kiss they share is slow and gentle. The urgency that usually burns within them has calmed, knowing the hunger that feeds it will soon be sated.

His lips are soft, warm, and imploring. She opens her mouth to him and sighs happily when he deepens the kiss.

Tyrion's hands do not remain idle. One of them comes up to firmly cup her right breast. She feels herself leaning into his hand. The heat radiating from him is a balm she didn't know she needed until just now.

His lips move to her neck and he peppers her with kisses, pausing to nip here and there, and making her breath catch. He kisses across her collarbone while his fingers carefully knead her breast and tease her nipple to attention.

Sansa feels a flame flare at her core, igniting a desperate need.

Tyrion's mouth comes down to capture her other nipple, his tongue swirling in expert circles. A moan slips from between her lips and Sansa stiffens momentarily, embarrassed by the sound.

"Don't think, just feel," Tyrion murmurs against her skin.

She relaxes her body again and tries not to focus on anything but the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

Tyrion's hand is on her thigh… her upper thigh. His thumb is tracing circles and dipping between her legs. She bites her lip and shivers, thinking of the possibilities if only he would slide his hand a little higher.


As if reading her mind his hand slides up, and this time when his thumb dips he's touching her curls. Sansa jerks beneath him, her body knowing exactly what it wants.

Tyrion must know what she wants as well, because he changes his position on the bed. He gently nudges her to spread her legs, looking up for her approval as he does so.

Sansa nods once and parts her legs, allowing him room to climb between them. She closes her eyes, her embarrassment resurfacing with her new, even more exposed, position.

She sucks in a breath when she feels his finger teasing at her entrance, just tracing the edge of her.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't," she sighs, shaking her head.

Needing no further urging, Tyrion slips a finger inside her folds. Sansa's own fingers grasp onto the bedding tighter. In and out he slowly slides, sending her pulse racing. The heat coiling in her belly grows, spreading out throughout the rest of her body.

When she's adjusted to the one digit, he adds another, carefully stretching her. She feels a slight twinge of discomfort, her body discovering previously unknown muscles, but it is covered up almost immediately when Tyrion brings his thumb up and starts massaging…

Oh, Seven Kingdoms!


Sansa gasps and turns her head into the pillow as he rubs her most sensitive spot. His thumb swirls in expert circles as his index and middle fingers continue their work.

Heat is spreading out through her arms and legs, radiating down to her toes. There is a rising tension in her belly getting tighter and tighter until finally it bursts.

Sansa cries out, her chest heaving as she tries to gulp down enough air. Tyrion's fingers slow gradually, helping her ride the wave of pleasure pulsing through her.

As she floats back to reality she feels Tyrion withdraw from her and she opens sleepy eyes to look at him.

His expression is somewhere between smugness, waiting for approval… and want. The lust in his eyes as he stares at her like she is the most stunning creature on the planet has a severe effect on Sansa. She can feel her need reigniting.

"I want to touch you," she tells him boldly, blushing.

Tyrion hesitates a moment, something flashes across his face but disappears before she can tell what. As soon as it is gone he starts to undress himself.

When he is down to his tunic he pauses again, and this time she can read his hesitation. He looks nervous. Or scared.

He's afraid of what I'll think.

Sansa sits up abruptly and takes Tyrion's face in her hands. She gives him a slow, reassuring kiss and then takes the hem of his tunic and pulls it over his head.

He looks away as she studies him.

Try as she might to resist, Sansa's gaze is drawn to his protruding manhood. She doesn't have anything to compare it to, but she briefly thinks that if all men's size is dependent on their height than she is quite glad of Tyrion's stature.

Anything more and I'd never recover.

He isn't the tall knight she always dreamed of, but it doesn't matter because Tyrion is the kindest, bravest man she's ever met. He is nothing but perfect in her eyes.

Sansa runs her long elegant fingers down his chest, smirking when she feels him shiver beneath her touch.

"You're perfect," she murmurs, leaning in to kiss across the top of his shoulder. "My handsome husband."

As she presses closer she can feel his hardness against her belly. Tyrion sighs softly, and her curiosity gets the best of her.

Sansa pulls back a bit and reaches down between them. She traces a finger experimentally along his shaft, and Tyrion's breath hitches. Feeling bolder, Sansa wraps her hand around his length and feels a small surge of pride from the moan it elicits.

Tyrion's hand wraps around hers and helps guide her, showing her what to do. It's only a few moments, right when she gets into a steady rhythm, before he pulls her hand away.

"Lie back," he instructs her once more.

Sansa listens and returns to her previous position, eager to see what comes next.

Tyrion climbs between her legs, pressing forward until she can feel him at her entrance. The pressure in her builds in anticipation, her whole body throbbing along to her heartbeat.

Tyrion slips his fingers into her again, this time with much more ease. His thumb returns to her nub and in no time he has her on the brink of another orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out and presses his shaft against her.

"This is going to hurt," he says softly, "I'm sorry. There's no way around it."

"I'm ready," she insists.

Then he is pressing into her. Sansa gasps in pain as her walls stretch to accommodate him. Tyrion is going slow, easing her through it. Almost all the fire that had been burning in her before has disappeared, and she's left mainly with discomfort.

She groans as he reaches her maidenhead and he pulls back a bit. Tyrion begins kissing her breasts and slips his hand down between them, searching out her sweet spot once again.

After some creative finger work Sansa feels herself adjusting to his girth, and the fire starts to build again. He shifts within her, just a little, in time with the tapping of his thumb against her nub.

Her breathing speeds up, her heart races… she can feel another wave of pleasure getting ready to hit.

"Tyrio — ooh!"

Just as the wave hits her Tyrion thrusts, breaking her maidenhead. Her hand comes up to twine into his hair.


Seven Kingdoms does it hurt.

The pain detracts from her pleasure, but the pleasure also eases the pain.

Tyrion is thrusting into her, still seeking his own climax. Sansa gasps with each thrust, from pleasure or pain she can't tell. Everything is muddled together as one.

It doesn't take him long to reach his peak. Tyrion gives one final thrust and she feels his warm seed fill her.

They both lay there spent and panting, glistening with sweat.

Eventually Tyrion finds the strength to roll off of her, and moves to lay his head on the pillow next to hers.

Sansa winces, uncomfortable from the throbbing between her legs. She rolls on her side to face Tyrion and he does the same.

"Sorry," he says, face twisted apologetically. "It's never pleasant for a woman her first time.

"Don't be," she replies, smiling softly. "You did everything you could to help ease the pain… and most of that was quite pleasant."

"Just wait until next time."

He gives her an exaggerated wink and Sansa bursts into giggles.

"I look forward to it," she says, scooting closer.

Tyrion rolls to lie flat on his back and Sansa curls up to him, resting her head on his bare chest.

Before long they both drift off, each clinging to the other.

Author's Note: I hope that was worth the wait! I've only written a few love scenes before this, and never one involving losing virginity, so I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. Let me know what you think, I love hearing from you guys!