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Forest Flowers

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“This is your fault, you know.”

Blaming Arya for things is hardly anything new for Sansa, but she thinks she has better cause this time than most. After all, it was Arya who talked her into sneaking out into the forest in the middle of the day, claiming no-one would think to go looking for them there. Especially not you, Arya smirked. Septa Mordane wouldn't expect her precious little lady to be out among the dirt and the trees. You'd get your new dress dirty.

“Shh.” Sansa huffs, and her dress is getting dirty as Arya's body pins her against the bark of a tree, hiding in what little shelter they have as Septa Mordane's voice calls to them from a distance. Arya's leather breeches are rough against her legs, her breath hot against her neck, and it's hard not to think about what they snuck away to do in the first place. Don't be absurd, Sansa tells herself. At least wait until Septa Mordane's gone.

Unwittingly, Sansa squirms, and Arya's fingers unthinkingly find her hips, squeezing slightly. Sansa gasps shallowly, and suddenly thinks of what it would be like if their septa really did find them like this, locked in a suspicious embrace, how disgraceful it would be, how humiliating...

Arya's fingers dig into her hips harder and Sansa only just them realises that her sister is no longer peering over her shoulder to see if anyone's coming, but instead looking up at her, bemused. “Is this turning you on, Sansa?” she asks quietly.

Sansa immediately turns bright red. “W-what? Of course not!” she stutters out, before those fingers squeeze her flesh again, earning another gasp. Arya grins wickedly.

“It is,” she declares, and Sansa groans as her head rolls back against the tree bark, hair catching on twigs. “It excites you. Thinking we're about to get caught...”

Don't be ridiculous, Sansa wants to say, but her words are stolen from her as Arya's hand takes ahold of her skirt, the hem stained and muddy, and slowly pushes it up her leg. She should put a stop to this, before they get themselves caught in a position they really can't explain, but Arya's cunning smile and rough hands make her feel strangely helpless. Arya always makes her feel that way.

Arya pushes the skirt up around her waist and Sansa takes ahold of it herself to keep her in place. “Good girl,” Arya says, making Sansa flush deeper with embarrassment, and then she brazenly pushes her hand inside the waist of Sansa's underthings. Sansa gasps and her hips buck forward, bark pulling at her hair, as Arya's fingers find her folds, slick and ready. “See? You're so wet,” Arya comments triumphantly, slowly stroking along the length of Sansa's slit, and Sansa whimpers softly before biting her lip. “If only our septa knew what a bad girl her perfect little lady is, huh?”

She has no answer to that, and just at that moment, she hears their septa's voice calling again. “Girls! Where are you? You're expected in the sept!”

Arya's finger suddenly pushes inside her, and Sansa's hurriedly covers her mouth with the back of her hand so as not to cry out too loud. “We ought to be busily praying, making sure Mother's gods know we love them just as much as Father's,” Arya muses as her finger crooks back and forth inside Sansa, making her tremble, “but instead, you ran off with me to get my fingers in your cunt in the middle of the woods. What a slut you are, big sister.”

Sansa moans and rocks down onto Arya's hand, her nerves frazzled to breaking point. “Please,” she gasps.

Arya grins wider before pushing a second finger inside, fucking Sansa with them hard and fast, stroking her clit with a thumb, sucking the skin on her neck. Sansa ought to stop her doing that at least, lest she leave a mark they can't conceal, but instead she moans again and tilts her head to the side. She's so wet she can practically feel herself dripping down Arya's fingers, and the more Arya fucks her the quicker she can feel herself hurtling toward her peak.

“That's it, sweet sister,” Arya whispers in her ear as Sansa finds it harder and harder to control her shuddering or her smothered noises. “Come for me. Come for me with the leaves in your hair and dirt on your clothes, up against a tree like a wildling. Do it, I know you want to, you want me to make you come the second she finds us–”

Suddenly Sansa lets out a choked noise and her pleasure overtakes her; her cunt clenches hard around Arya's fingers and she mewls as her peak is wrung out of her, Arya's fingers rough and then gentle, filling her up and then leaving her empty.

Arya wipes her fingers on Sansa's underthings, and Sansa makes a noise of protest but at least she didn't choose to wipe them on her actual skirt. Arya steps away and Sansa hurriedly pulls her dress back down, while Arya keeps grinning at her. Then she calls out. “We're over here, Septa Mordane!”

Sansa's eyes go wide. “Arya!” she hisses, but Arya just laughs at her while she hurriedly sets about trying to smooth down her mussed up hair, and get the leaves out of it.

“Ah, there you are,” Septa Mordane is there entirely too quickly, and looks over them both suspiciously. “And what are you two out here for, anyway?”

Sansa blushes deeply and drops her eyes to the forest floor, while Arya grins sheepishly. “Sorry Septa, it was my fault,” she says, and Sansa huffs a little to herself. Well at least she admits it now. “I wanted Sansa to come play with me, and so I told her I'd found some weird flowers I couldn't identify to make her come with.”

Septa Mordane thinks this over for a moment. “Sansa, is this true?”

Sansa just about manages to lift her face enough to meet her septa's eyes, although she blushes even redder when she does so. “I-it is. I'm sorry,” she says. Perhaps their septa will be suspicious of her red face, her crumpled clothing, her leaf-ridden hair. Then again, the woman is a septa, through no fault of her own, would she even know what the aftermath of sex looks like? Besides, Sansa gets in trouble so rarely, it's easy to think she would be so embarrassed about being late for sept.

Septa Mordane sighs deeply. “Well, I hardly have time to reprimand you now. Come along girls.”

She charges on ahead and Sansa and Arya both follow her, like ducklings in a line. Once the septa is a safe distance away, Sansa leans over and shoves her sister with her shoulder. “I hate you.”

Arya laughs again. “You've said,” she says smugly. “So will I see you in my chambers tonight?”

Sansa glares at her. Oh no, Arya is not getting away with this that easily. “Maybe. I can't be sure though,” she says teasingly, and Arya frowns. “After all, your room is so close to the boys'. We wouldn't want to get caught.”

Arya makes an indignant noise, but Sansa then walks on ahead of her, grinning.