Title: Just Neighbors, Right?

Title: Just Neighbors, Right?
Author: Demelza
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones and its characters belong to GRRM and HBO. I’m just borrowing them here for a little while. No infringements of any copyrights are intended.
Rating: O15
Warnings: sex
Summary: Modern!AU. Sansa’s sarcastic and full of humor, while Tyrion is serious and to the point. An encounter in the stairwell of their apartment complex changes everything.
Note: Beta’d by me. Mistakes may be found within.

It was late when Sansa got home one night. Carrying two brown paper bags of groceries in her arms, she was nearing the last of the stairs when she turned the corner and found Tyrion sitting perfectly centered on the top step of their landing, his laptop perched atop his legs and a headset on his head.

The unexpected sight of her must have startled him and he clutched at his chest, gasping dramatically for air.

Sansa’s lips twisted in amusement. “What’s up, Tyrion?” she asked, adjusting the bag in her left arm.

“Gods, woman! You need to learn how to announce your presence,” he quickly chastised, turning his attention back to his laptop.

She pretended to think about that for a moment. “Nah, I don’t. How about you move, huh?”

“Move?” He didn’t lift his gaze. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

Stifling a groan, Sansa stepped forward and peered over the laptop to see what he was playing. Expecting one of the role playing games, or even Super Mario, she was surprised to see him playing something that was, well, nothing at all like his usual games. “What’s this you’re playing?”

“‘Playing?'” Tyrion finally looked up and quickly widened his eyes at how closely she was standing near him. “Sansa,” he said, pausing to let out a low sigh. “This is a physics simulator. It is not a game, ergo I am not ‘playing’ anything. I am, if you must know, in the middle of a particularly challenging level.”

“I thought you were good at physics?”

Tyrion looked at her with a double take, furrowing his brow. “I am not ‘good’ at physics.” He dropped his gaze to his laptop and hit one of the buttons. He remained silent and Sansa watched the way his eyes flickered with small movements. Very soon, a smirk spread across his lips – one she knew only too well as being of deep, almost maniacal satisfaction – and when it reached its fullness Tyrion lifted his gaze and met Sansa’s once more. “I excel at physics. I’m…”

“In my way,” Sansa pointed out, pursing her lips and raising both eyebrows at him.

He stared at her, unmoved.

Bending so her face was leaning close to his, she said, “Move or else.”

His breath hitched in his throat, causing him to practically squeak. “Or else what?”

Sansa smiled threateningly, searching his eyes. “Do you really want to find that out, Tyrion? I mean, really?”

Looking back down at his laptop, Tyrion wet his lips, half catching his breath, half chuckling in fear. “My father always taught me a little use of one’s manners goes a long way.” He looked her in the eye then, giving her a ‘matter of fact’ glare. “You could really learn something from that, Sansa.”

Standing straight, Sansa clutched the bags in her arms. He was lucky, she mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. If the cans of beans she bought had been at the top of either bag, she no doubt would’ve dropped one of the bags in favor of throwing one of the cans at him.

She surmised from the look on Tyrion’s face that he had an inkling as to the thoughts running through her mind. The way he quickly scampered to one side, very nearly hugging the wall as she stepped past him, was a very good indication she was right about him being able to read his mind.

She was about to step past him, when her shrill ringing began to sound from her phone.

Sighing, Sansa hurried up to the clearing where the staircase rounded before the next upward steps were and leaned against the wall. She tried moving the bag she carried in her right arm into her left, but the other bag she already carried in her left arm began to slip and she groaned with annoyance.

“Would you answer that?” Tyrion’s voice sounded from behind her.

Sansa rolled her eyes, wishing for a moment that she had a more patient and more understanding neighbor than Tyrion Lannister. He meant well, and he was a genius in his own right – well, pretty much every right – but his social skills were lacking in all the ways that counted.

“Sorry, Tyrion, no. If you hadn’t noticed,” she called over her shoulder at him, “I have both my arms full and as much as I’d dearly love to answer my phone, all to keep the peace for you, I can’t do that, can I?”

“Well…” Tyrion half stammered. “You could…”

“Bags. Arms. Full.” She shot back. She felt like she was as close to losing her temper with him as she was about to lose the bags in her arms.

Footsteps sounded, and Tyrion stopped alongside her.

He stared up at her. She stared down at him over her groceries.

The phone stopped ringing, and Sansa sighed.

“There, crisis avert—”

Tyrion hadn’t got his words out when Sansa’s phone began to ring all over again.

“Well, since I’m here, I may as well help…” She practically held her breath as Tyrion reached into the right pocket of her cardigan. “It’s not there,” he stated.

“It’s in my other pocket,” Sansa said, eyes locking on his.

“But you use your cell phone with your right hand. What insane reason would have driven you to place it in your left pocket? Such an action goes against all sensible logic.”

Quickly rolling her eyes, the bags she was holding growing heavier, Sansa sighed heavily. “My jeans pocket, Tyrion.”

He took a small step backward, a mortified expression washing over his face. “Well, whoever the caller is, they’ll no-doubt keep calling until you’re into your apartment—”

“Hurry, would you?” Sansa asked, trying to fight her frustration, “I’m expecting a call about an interview I took today.”

“Interview? Are you hunting for a new apartment? Are you moving out of the building?” He sounded overly excited, and she merely glared at him until he moved closer.

She turned to face him, the bags growing infinitely heavier, and Tyrion fumbled to get the phone out of her left jeans pocket.

His face was practically in her breasts – her very much, partially exposed breasts thanks to the cute top she’d borrowed from Arya at the weekend – and the feel of his breath against her breasts started to make her feel things. Her breathing grew labored as Tyrion tried to fish her phone out of her pocket, but he wasn’t having much luck.

It was as she temporarily met his gaze that she realized he had his eyes closed and his face was a very particular crimson color.

Tyrion is embarrassed?!

Finally, the phone came free from Sansa’s pocket and Tyrion’s eyes opened – they opened straight into the crevice between her breasts and she felt hot all over.

The phone stopped ringing once more, but this time it didn’t start up again.

The silence that followed was admittedly awkward, with Sansa feeling things in places she didn’t think she ever could for Tyrion, and Tyrion staring into the crevice of her breasts.

She couldn’t think.

Could barely breathe.

Suddenly, with no thought to tell her otherwise, Sansa let go of her bags of groceries and then she grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tyrion said, the bags clattering to the ground between them, his voice high pitched, his black and green eyes finally meeting hers.

“Something that should have happened long before now,” she said. He looked petrified as she walked him two steps backwards, so they were out of the way of the fallen groceries. Then, she craned down and pressed her mouth to his.

It was clumsy and heated both at once.

With one kiss done, she wanted another. But Tyrion pulled back from her, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked, face reddening more than it had before.

“That was me saying… fuck the weirdness, Tyrion. I want you.”

“You do not!” he stammered, and he broke away from her. “I’m… an unsociable Demon Monkey, and you’re the Disgraced Daughter of Ned Stark.” He then motioned between the two of him, albeit in a half-panic. “We and us—Me and you, rather, are… we’re…”

“We’re what?” she said, searching his eyes.


That’s all he could say.

He stood there, wide-eyed, staring back at her just as she stood there staring at him.

“I’ve never had sex,” he declared, “Or dated. Or kissed someone,” he added, and she could tell by his tone and demeanor that he was embarrassed by all three facts.

“Oh,” Sansa said after a moment. “You… were probably waiting for the right girl.”

“The…? Yes, because such a person actually exists.” That was sarcasm. It was odd to hear it from him when he was usually so forthright and lacked the humor that his roommate and brother, Jaime often used.

“I’m… very sorry,” she soon added, and as broken as her voice was she meant both words with complete sincerity.

Tyrion lowered his gaze, seeming surprised by her words.

But, when her own gaze fell, Sansa realized the surprise wasn’t at what she’d said, but at the fact something was happening to him.

There was a bulge at the front of his pants, and as they both lifted their gaze to one another Tyrion arched an eyebrow at her. “I hate to be rude,” he began, pausing as a breath caught in his throat, “but it seems completely ridiculous to start something and not see it to its conclusion.”

Inside Sansa’s apartment, her groceries and his laptop forgotten in the stairwell, Sansa and Tyrion sat on her queen-size bed. Getting from the stairwell to the apartment had involved little more than the opening and closing of her apartment door, and Sansa leading Tyrion through into her florally decorated bedroom. A black and silver bedspread adorned her bed, as well as an assortment of pillows and cushions.

They sat there, not saying a word.

It wasn’t awkwardness that saw them silent. Sansa was smiling, and so was Tyrion.

“On one,” Tyrion said.

“On one,” Sansa echoed.

“Three,” they said together. “Two. One.”

Sansa removed her cardigan, revealing only the cute red tank she wore underneath with the low-cut front, while Tyrion peeled off the black ACDC t-shirt he wore. Under his t-shirt was nothing but his bare chest, and the light mat of hair that adorned it.

She smiled again. Tyrion toyed with his t-shirt, held it at his stomach.

Thinking it would be fairer to join him entirely, Sansa reached for the bottom of the tank top and slowly pulled it up over her stomach and bare breasts, then off over her head.

With the item off, Sansa set it aside and sat there before Tyrion, as half naked as he was.

“You’re… gorgeous,” he said, eyes faltering from her eyes, to her lips, breasts, then back to her lips again.

“And you’re very handsome,” Sansa replied, getting a huff in response from Tyrion. She supposed he didn’t hear that too often, but he really was handsome. It was only their differences in personality that kept them from being here before now.

He began to move, his eyes fixed on hers. “May I kiss you?”

“I’d like that,” she murmured, her heart beginning to race.

Their faces came together and their lips met with a tentativeness that had been absent during their first, rushed kiss. Tyrion’s lips were soft, and he took the time to kiss her top lip first, then her bottom, seeming to try decide which he had a preference for.

Their eyes met for a beat, Tyrion smiled and when he captured her bottom lip with his again, nipping at her, Sansa opened her mouth to him and let a low moan escape.

She met his kiss with by lightly sucking his upper lip, brushing it with the tip of her tongue to invite him to take their kiss a step further… and he did.

Their tongues danced in unison, feather-light in one instance, desperate for each other in the next, all of it bringing forth an air of urgency.

Sansa decided to draw Tyrion back with her then, and as she did, his mouth staying with hers, his right hand found her breast and when he kneaded her tender flesh she moaned again. He might have had no real life experience, but she was certain he’d watched enough videos and or read enough books to get the right idea of what might be expected of him.

He worked at her breast, light squeezes, kneading, and when he took her nipple between his finger and thumb and squeezed it Sansa felt the growing rush of warmth in her groin.

She moved her hands, caressing his back, and traversed his spine, around to his hips, and she brought his pelvis to hers.

The move made Tyrion groan, and Sansa smiled into their continued kisses.

Together, they got him moving, slow grinding, his bulge pushing against her sensitive, throbbing center. She wanted him, she realized. His brilliant mind, his straight-talking personality. She wanted him desperately.

Tyrion must have sensed there was a deepening hunger within her, and he pulled back from her. Though his right hand still cupped her breast, there was a furrow on his brow. It made her wonder if he was second-guessing this mad decision of theirs.

He said nothing as he moved a little lower down her body, bent down and took her hard nipple in his mouth and began to suck on it.

The feelings that rushed through her caused Sansa to arch her head back and let out a low, raspy groan. Tyrion’s work on her breast with his mouth and tongue was met with a desperate, teasing kneading on her other breast.

She lost herself in the feeling of his velvet tongue lapping at her nipple. Of the way he met every light bite and suck with squeezing of her right breast.

She resumed the caresses, the gentle exploration of his back and shoulders, then she moved her right hand to the back of his head, meeting his every lavish bit of attention by massaging his head with her fingertips.

But it came to an end soon enough.

Tyrion bit her nipple once more as he drew back, then he planted feather-light kisses down the center of her abdomen, over her stomach and to the top of her jeans.

She couldn’t find the strength to lift her head. She was too close to coming completely undone.

Her hands at the back of his head, Sansa felt him undo the button of her jeans, felt the release that came as the zipper came free after it.

One more kiss to her stomach, Sansa finally lifted her head to look down just as Tyrion eased down the front of her pink lacey underwear and he placed kiss after kiss against her mound.


He moved his hands to her hips then, kissing her mound once more, and together they helped her push down her jeans and underwear.

With Sansa bare to him, Tyrion kissed his way down her thigh as he slipped her jeans and underwear down. He reached her knee, moved to her other leg, and, with her clothes now completely gone, he kissed his way back up her thigh. His fingertips were smooth like satin, his breath warm and enticing.

Oh how she wanted him. She wanted him inside her.

But Tyrion had another plan.

With gentle persuasion he parted her legs and as she stared down at him, situated at the center of her, she gave him a nod to proceed.

And he did. He lowered his head and gently blew on her opening before parting her delicate lips and bringing his tongue to her clitoris.

That first touch of his tongue made her gasp, and as he began to place delicate kisses, to suck and lick her clitoris in a manner without uniform she felt everything she’d been holding back begin to build within her.

His fingers soon found their way to her wet opening, and when he inserted one finger, followed by the next and he began to move them in and out of her Sansa began to rock her pelvis in unison with his movements.

He licked and thrust, and she gripped her bedspread, could feel her every breath coming in hard and short as the intensity of pleasure grew within her.

She didn’t want to come undone so soon, but the feeling was almost too much to stand.

She tried to say his name, but a moan escaped her throat instead.

The sound made Tyrion suck at her clitoris a little harder than the delicateness he’d used before and the current of pleasure made Sansa cry out in ecstasy. It rolled through her, urged on by Tyrion’s continued attention to her clitoris and cunt both.

Finally, she rasped, “Tyrion!”

His attention slowed, the orgasm slowing as he did.

She was staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to catch her breath. “Fuck, Tyrion…” she murmured, “I…” She could barely get her thoughts together, could barely think beyond how fucking great what they’d just done had felt.

As much as she wanted to remain in the moment, his fingers still moving in and out of her twitching pussy, Sansa sat up, her hands going to Tyrion’s head. “My turn,” she whispered, still somewhat out of breath.

Tyrion lifted his head, withdrew his fingers to Sansa’s immediate regret, and when their came close they kissed again. Heated, passionate. She led him backwards, broke away from his swollen lips to trail kisses down his chest. One kiss after another, she could feel his labored breathing beneath her. He placed kiss after kiss down his stomach then, and when she came to his pants she lifted her head up enough to see that his erection was straining to be freed.

She turned her gaze to Tyrion’s then, and he nodded, breathless, for her to continue.

One simple twist, and his button was free. She eased the zipper down, trailing one finger down Tyrion’s exposed erection where it poked out of his boxers.

She parted the flaps of his jeans, freed his reddened cock from the enclosure of his boxers.

“Sansa…” Tyrion said then, and she, fingertips at the base of his cock, lifted her gaze to look at him. “I’m… I’m not sure how long I can…”

Giving him a nod, Sansa tucked her hair over her shoulder as she lowered her head to Tyrion’s upright cock. She kissed from the base to the tip, enticing low groans and rasps from him as she went. She thought for a moment about taking him in her mouth, of letting him cum for her that way, but it was his first time and she wanted it to be different. And so, with one more lingering kiss at the sensitive head of his cock, Sansa began her ascent up Tyrion’s stomach and abdomen, until her mouth was flush with his again.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her eyes moving from his lips, to his eyes. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, don’t stop,” Tyrion rasped.

With a nod, Sansa drew him into a kiss; delicate and sweet.

Lips parting, she looked down between them as she moved her pelvis in line with his. He moved his hand to her hip and she lowered herself down to meet the head of his cock. It pushed at her wet opening, and, reaching down between them, she parted her lips and took the head of him inside.

Sansa looked down at Tyrion’s face then. His eyes locked on hers and together, him pushing up, her lowering herself, the full length of his cock slipped into her. The feeling made them both gasp for a breath, him more than her.

“Are you sure?” she said, truly not wanting them to go further if it wasn’t what he really wanted.

“I’m sure,” came his reply. He lowered his hips then, slow, clearly taking in the feel of her, and when he thrust up hard and fast Sansa gasped.

Their eyes remained fixed on one another as they moved together, Tyrion moving into her, Sansa thrusting her own hips to meet him.

Each move came as fast as the one before. Then faster. They were both gasping, grunting for one another. Their eyes didn’t falter from one another. They couldn’t. They were deep in this now. Beyond the point of awkward neighbors who often got on each other’s nerves.

She’d never looked at him like she would ever think of fucking him.

But there they were. Bodies entwined. His cock thrusting in and out of her. Her pussy aching for him, so desperately close to the edge of another orgasm.

A hard thrust, a groan from Sansa. She let go, the orgasm she was holding out for making her muscles tremble and her pussy tighten around his hard cock.

Tyrion’s thrusts slowed, their eyes searching one another’s, and then he pushed into her twice more, each one wracked with trembling as he came himself. “Gods, Sansa,” he groaned, “Sansa!

She crashed half on him, half aside him, their bodies heaving desperately for air.

Their heads side by side, he turned to her, reached a hand up to brush strands of her hair back. “Thank you,” he whispered, wetting his lips between breaths.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she murmured back, “The pleasure was mine.”

“And mine,” he grinned, making her chuckle.

They lay there, arms around each other, just listening to one another’s breathing. When Sansa had moved in next door to Tyrion and Jaime she never would have dreamed that she’d find herself naked with the one man who never looked at her the way most guys would. But here they were. Two disparate souls whose lives had changed forever in the best way possible.

Author: Demelza

Writer, graphic artist and photographer. I dream of building a fantasy realm others can play in!

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