Robb and Sansa are back home for break but of course, Robb heads out to see Jeyne. Arya ditches out with her pack, Bran goes to a sleepover with the Reeds, and Rickon passes out from too much sugar. So, it’s just him and Sansa and Theon prefers that, prefers having Sansa alone, pressing her into the sofa cushions, tongue deep in her mouth and a hand working its way underneath her shirt.
“Not here,” she whispers, pushing him off. She gets up and takes Theon by the hand. He follows her, smirking, eyeing how her t-shirt clings to her, the curve of her spine, and imagines taking her from behind.
Sansa leads him upstairs and he starts for Sansa’s room, but she shakes her head, tugging him further down the hall, into Robb’s room.
He halts, “We shouldn’t,” but Sansa smiles almost devilishly.
“Is that Theon Greyjoy saying he won't do something to me?” She steps close to him, hand reaching down to rub at his jeans, cupping his erection. “I want you to fuck me.”
He steps forward, crushing her against the door as he kisses her deeply, hands shedding her of her shirt. She reaches behind her back, scrambling for the doorknob and they stumble into Robb’s room.
He doesn’t know if Robb has figured it out – that Theon’s fucking his best friend’s sister. Robb’s room is in a disarray like always and they shuffle towards Robb’s bed, bouncing a bit as they land.
The sheets smell like him, he thinks as he unhooks Sansa’s bra, and that’s all he can think of even as her hands work at his zipper.
They shed the rest of their clothes quickly and Theon likes how warm she is against him, how her breasts feel in his hands. He presses her deeper into Robb’s sheets (dark navy blue), one hand sliding up by her head to brace himself, sliding underneath Robb’s pillow and his hand clenches around Robb’s tshirt and boxers he uses for bed.
Her legs tilt up and Theon pushes in with ease, a soft groan escaping his lips. His head dips as he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks; Sansa moans and bucks against him and his answering thrust is sharp and quick. With a tit in one mouth and her cunt tight and wet around him, Theon is quite occupied but he’s never one to let his partner down. His fist still clutching Robb’s bed clothes, his other hand finds Sansa’s clit, thumb drawing circles and hand occasionally brushes against his own cock as his rhythm takes on a steady in-out movement.
He can feel it building, the orgasm building on his spine, in his cock, and he abandons her breast to bury his face in her neck, eyes half-open to auburn curls and Theon for one wild moment imagines it’s Robb he’s fucking, the bed smells of Robb, and he jackknives his hips wildly as Sansa moans loudly in his ear, fingernails digging into his back.
He comes with a grunt, withdrawing as he spills, cum splattering on Sansa’s thighs and the bedsheets. Theon continues to draw shapes into Sansa’s clit, driving her to orgasm with a moaning gasp. They lie on her brother’s bed, panting hard, Theon’s hand still clutching at Robb’s shirt.
A moment passes and Sansa takes in the state of the bed – the rumpled sheets, his cum on the bed, the smell of sex in the air. “We’re gonna have to wash that,” she kisses him, a teasing bite on his lower lip.
Theon pulls at her hair, baring her neck to him, kissing and smiling into her skin, “We're not done yet.”