Daemon flicked a glance upwards, mildly chastising. "Mouth closed," he ordered quietly, then returned his gaze back to his work. "Just feel, Sansa. It's not a crime to enjoy things like this." Then he held up a silencing finger. "Hush." He wasn't interested in words, not right now.

The King was more interested in pale, pure skin, skin no living man had ever before touched. His hands were the first. A heady realization, when he thought about it. And to that effect, Daemon leaned forward and began to press soft, but firm kisses to that zaftig flesh, marching his way upwards along Sansa's long thighs, utilizing both lips and tongue to make it flush a lovely pale shade for him.

First the right, then the left, then he began all over again; this time adding just the gentlest scrapes of his teeth, wanting to see the mild red marks glowing against her skin.