She plopped the gift in his lap, and Theon nearly spilled his coffee all over himself, grunting at the weight of it. It was vaguely round and heavier than it looked.
“What’d you get me? A cannonball?” he asked. A bit of an overstatement, it was likely only a couple of pounds.
Sansa simply smirked. “I dunno. Guess you’ll have to open it and find out.”
He took a long sip from his coffee and set it on the table in front of him, setting to work unwrapping this gift that had his girl looking so smug and pleased with herself. Theon was unable to really imagine what she could have possibly gotten him. Especially since the only thing he could think about wanting was sitting primly to his right, waiting for him to tear the paper off of whatever this was.
The paper was green and shiny. Foil of some kind, and it was difficult to get a grip on it to rip it. And then once he did, it didn’t really rip, just squeaked under his fingers until he could slide under the tape and undo it.
It came open easily then, revealing a blob wrapped in more wrapping paper.
He smirked and looked up at her, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’ve just wrapped something really small in tons of paper, haven’t you?” he asked, picking up the gift and turning it in his hands.
She nudged his knee with her foot and giggled. “Aren’t you going to unwrap your gift?”
Sighing, he started in on the thing in earnest. He tore red paper, gold paper, paper with little pink stars, a layer of newspaper, and about twelve more layers of different wrapping paper off the blob. All he had to show for it was a slightly smaller blob and a pile of brightly coloured paper all around him.
“If there’s one more layer on this thing, you’re going to start taking off layers as well,” he teased, to which Sansa reached up for her dressing-gown-covered shoulder and tugged it down to seductively show off her flannel pyjamas.
“I’m only partly joking,” he said with a laugh, ripping the newest layer of paper. “I’m liable to lose interest…”
“In a gift?” she asked, joining him in a laugh.
“The only thing I’d like to unwrap is you,” he replied, the last words coming out a bit more raw than he was expecting for so early in the morning. But he shouldn’t be surprised. She sometimes got home late at night and he could rally for a shag at three in the morning. Why should nine-thirty be any different?
He tossed the paper on the floor and Sansa reached for the belt on her dressing gown, untying it and slipping the floral jacquard off her shoulders and over the arm of the sofa.
They’d been somewhat friskier as of late. Mostly because they’d been trying for damn near a year and a half to have a baby, only to have the doctor tell them to stop trying so hard, it was only putting undue pressure on the both of them.
So they’d stopped fucking on a schedule and gone back to fucking when they wanted.
Theon wasn’t sad to see the calendar with the red circled days go. Not that he didn’t absolutely love the process of trying, he was starting to feel like a stud service. He couldn’t imagine Sansa felt any different.
So it was nice to get back to this again. He ripped off another layer of paper.
The next two layers only got rid of her socks, but the one after that got her to shimmy out of her pyjama bottoms. The next one got her knickers to slide down her legs, onto one foot, where she flipped them into his lap. They weren’t his favorites, but a close second. Blue lace with a little heart cutout.
Theon wasn’t even paying attention to the gift in his lap anymore. He was just ripping paper and watching Sansa slowly unbutton her shirt and toss it across the floor. He dumped the gift on the coffee table and crawled down the sofa towards her. Her legs looked miles long, and he wanted to kiss every inch of them and the place where they met too.
“Aren’t you going to unwrap your gift?” she giggled as he sucked soft kisses up the inside of her calf, towards her knee.
“You did it for me,” he rumbled against her skin, bending her knee and moving up her inner thigh. She extended her leg again, propping it on the back of the sofa as he reached the apex of her thighs, nuzzling against her sex and running his tongue through her folds.
She felt only slightly damp under his tongue, but that didn’t last long. He moved one hand up her body, fingers skimming her skin until he reached her breast. He flicked his thumb over the tip of her nipple, gently swirling it until he felt it pebble. Sansa squirmed beneath him, sighing as he flattened his tongue against her, gliding along her pussy until he reached her clit.
Repeating the action, he could feel her start to rock against him, could feel the pulse in her sex as he reached her clit.
She tasted tangy and feminine, her scent almost overwhelming him with desire. His cock stiffened rapidly. Every second felt like hours as he slowly teased her. It got to the point where he was pretty sure the slickness he was tasting was from her and her alone. It was at that precise moment that he switched things up a bit, swirling his tongue against her nub and sucking on it softly.
Bucking against his mouth, her hand clamped down on the back of his head. “Fuck… gods, Theon.”
He rutted against the couch cushions, his erection reaching that critical point where it couldn’t get any harder, so it started leaking from the tip. He could feel the head of his cock sliding against the inside of his pants with every movement.
Moaning softly, he doubled down on her clit. Swirling and sucking and wriggling until she let out two gasps of air, followed by his name, hissed into the silence of the room while she held him in place, quaking and quivering while he slowly began to wind her down.
When he looked up at her, he could feel how sweaty his face was. How wet his mouth and chin were with her. Sansa was beautifully flushed and panting, one hand still stroking through his curls while the other was lying alongside her head.
“Gods,” she repeated. “You’re going to kill me.”
He grinned up at her, pushing up on his hands and knees so he could crawl towards her. “Surely not…” Whatever cunning quip he’d been planning was lost when she yanked the front of his t-shirt, as effective a way at silencing him as any.
She kissed him greedily, her tongue licking along his lips and cleaning them off. Fuck if every single thing this woman did wouldn’t get his engine purring.
His own kisses felt sloppy, given how tingly his lips and tongue were, but Sansa didn’t seem to mind. He felt her leg wrap around his waist. The one that was propped on the back of the sofa. She flexed slightly, pulling him in. He could feel her heat through his pyjama bottoms. His cock twitched and he fumbled with the drawstring so he could pull himself out.
She wasn’t helping things along at all, with all her breathy moaning and the sweet tug of her teeth on his earlobe.
His breath hitched when she finally reached down to help. She dragged his pyjamas down over his hips and his cock sprung free against her. The tip was slippery wet as he jutted against the juncture of her hip and thigh, leaving a trail of his arousal behind.
Her hand closed around him, gently sliding up and down the length while every word he tried to speak got garbled in the process of saying it.
“Fucking hell, Sans…” was all he could manage, his hips rocking into her hand while she cooed in his ear.
“Gods, you’re so hard, Theon… does it ache? Does it feel good when I touch it?”
“Fuck yes…” The words extended, like an exhale more than a curse.
He could feel the pressure bunching in his gut. Tugging at his spine and forcing his hips to buck towards her.
She guided him to her folds, sliding the head of his cock through the slickness still gathered there. A combination of her and him, his tongue tingled at the memory as she released him and he slid fully inside.
Sansa made these cute little grunting sounds when he fucked her.
Those sounds were one of his favorite things. Them, and how she clenched her pussy around him like she was trying to break off his cock and take it with her.
This time, though, she wasn’t grunting. She was talking.
And the way she was talking never failed to fucking liquify him.
“You feel so good, Theon…” she arched her back, jutting her breasts towards his as his hips made contact once more. “So fucking good, you’re so good…”
“Sansa…” he replied. “Sansa…” His thrusting sped up, and he wasn’t sure if it was him or if it was her legs wrapped around his waist, but he was barreling towards a very quick orgasm if he didn’t slow up soon.
Her walls clamped down and he had to fight to keep his eyes open.
“Gods, your cock is perfect,” she murmured, one hand reaching down between them to touch herself, except he had enough wits about him to bat her hand away.
“I can do it,” he grunted, noting her amused smile as he rolled his thumb over her clit, his rhythm never ceasing until he saw her eyes close and felt her start to flutter around him, a moan seemed to wrench itself from her so very composed face, sounding a little like his name, but it was too spent to make much sense.
He didn’t care, he was already speeding up, chasing his own release and jolting in surprise when he didn’t have to go far to find it.
Theon didn’t want to think about what he looked like at that moment, surely not as beautiful as she did. Probably like a gawping fish or something, shaking through a quickly overwhelming orgasm while he emptied himself into her.
He collapsed against her, his head pillowed by her breasts as he panted through the aftermath, sliding his softening cock out of her and watching almost languidly as his spend dribbled out onto the throw blanket.
“Think we did it that time?” she asked, sounding breathless as he pushed up on shaky arms so he didn’t crush her beneath him. “Did you put a baby kraken in me, Theon?”
He huffed out a laugh and sat back on the sofa, shifting to push his pyjamas and pants fully onto the floor. “I dunno, you feel it clawing around in there yet?”
She half-heartedly kicked him and pushed up to crawl towards him. “Do you think you’d know if you did?”
He snorted out half a laugh and pulled her into his arms. “I doubt I’d know until you told me otherwise. But hey, don’t worry about that, right?”
She snuggled up against him and exhaled deeply. “Right.”
They lay there for a few moments, the sweat cooling on their skin as their breathing returned to normal. Or at least, his did. Sansa seemed nervous, her heartbeat fluttering against his chest until she sat up and reached for his partially opened gift. “Aren’t you going to open this?”
He chuckled and reached for it. He tore off more and more paper until nothing remained but a very small box. Not too small, actually. It was about the size of a postcard. And light as hell. He wondered what she could have possibly gotten him that weighed so little.
Unless it was tickets to something. Theon couldn’t think of anywhere he’d like to go, or any event he’d like to see, but he pulled the lid off the box just the same.
A picture.
Of her hand holding something.
He frowned and pulled it out, his eyes seeing what was there and still not believing it until he looked up at her.
“Two lines means…”
“It means I’m pregnant.”
“You are,” he said, his heart racing like mad as he stared down at the two purple lines on the white stick in the photograph Sansa was holding. “You’re… We’re… You are?”
“I am.” She was nervously fidgeting and chewing on her lip, practically bouncing in her seat and it suddenly clicked.
“I’m gonna be a Papa?” he whispered, a smile tugging at his lips before he turned towards her and hugged her so tightly she squealed.
“Oh…” he released her immediately. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t… no, that’s silly. I couldn’t… I…”
“I need more sentence structure to understand you completely, but no, you can’t squeeze the baby out of me like that, and yes, you’re going to be a Papa.” She looked positively radiant. Why hadn’t he noticed that glow in her cheeks before?
“I love you,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her soundly.
“I love you too.”
“When we tell the little one about this day, I’m going to be wearing more clothes in my retelling.”
“Me too,” Sansa giggled. “But that’s a long way away, so…”
“So…”
“Fancy another go?”
“Always,” he murmured, meeting her lips and allowing her to pull him back down on the sofa.
For: sansaastaerk
Prompt: The classic long-distance relationship, surprise you at midnight before the holiday because you thought I wasn't going to be able to make it in time.
Ship: Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy
A/n: AU where they met online and Theon never grew up in Winterfell.
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“I’m sure your new year will be plenty bright, beautiful.”
Sansa sighed and shook her head down at her phone. “Nah, don’t think it could be. Not with you so far away.”
Theon smiled. “You must be feeling off if you’re being this cheesy and sentimental.”
“Hush,” she chastised half-heartedly. “I’m trying to be truthful, also I’m in a terrible mood.”
“So you’ve said,” he replied, sounding as if he were climbing stairs or something.
The majority of their relationship had been like this. Talking and talking and talking online. First in IMs, then graduating to texts and phone calls. Snapchats. Facetime. All except for that one time about a month before when he’d come to visit her, taking a hotel room in Wintertown that they scarcely left the entire week he was there. He’d taken the thing so as not to intrude on her life. But then one thing led to another, and before she knew it, it was time for him to leave.
They fit together like a hand and a glove, and it physically hurt when Theon had to go back down to Pyke. Sansa had wondered if it hadn’t caused the pain to be felt more keenly by both of them. All that physical interaction, only to have it taken promptly away when he had to go home.
She’d even gone so far as to check flat prices in Pyke, but she didn’t think Pyke was the type of city where her artistic talent would be greatly appreciated. In fact, she didn’t think the Iron Islands as a whole would be a good fit for her. The only thing she wanted there was Theon Greyjoy.
“What are you doing? Your Stairmaster or something?”
He laughed briskly. “Why? Think I need it?”
She returned his laughter. “Gods, no. I think you know what I think of you.”
He sucked the air through his teeth. “Sansa, you shouldn’t say things like that when you’re so far away.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” she grumbled. “I’m all alone on New Year’s.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Well, I am.”
“Are you, now?”
Rolling her eyes, she fell back dramatically on her bed. “Theon, don’t tease me.”
“Alright, love. I know you don’t like that.”
Her doorbell rang and she frowned, sitting up. “Who could be calling at this time of night?”
“I dunno, might wanna go check,” he said with a barely concealed grin.
“Are you…” She rolled over off the bed with a louder thump than she wanted to claim, but that didn’t matter. If she was sure, and she hoped she was, that was her building’s hallway crown molding behind Theon’s head.
And the stairs he’d been climbing were hers.
And he was here. Here, here. In Wintertown.
Not in Pyke.
Not far, far away, unreachable and untouchable.
She bounded out to her front door and threw it open, grinning as she ended their facetime session for an opportunity to throw her arms around the real thing.
“Happy New Year, Sans,” Theon murmured in her ear.
“The happiest,” she replied, tilting up to kiss him.
