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Jake turned Sansa around, tipping her chin up so he could look in her eyes.

"Hey, hey. I'm easy to please, Sansa, sweetheart. Really. I'm happy with whatever you want to do with me. If all you want to do is have me touch you or kiss you, then I'm happy with that. Because I'm here for you and you want, not what you think I want."

It was so hard not to tell her he loved her. But he had to be patient.

Sansa nods and presses up close to him, tucking her head up beneath his chin so she can be as close to him as she possibly can. She hates that she feels insecure in this when she's so strong in other ways but it is difficult to open up and be vulnerable with someone else.

"I don't want to disappoint you, Jake."

His arms wrapped around her, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on Sansa's back.

"Sansa, the only way you can disappoint me is to tell me you don't want to be with me anymore."

"I want to be with you and no one else," Sansa assures him.

"All I want is to be with you in every way imaginable. I am only limited by my fear. That is all. It's not desire that limits me, it's fear."

Jake hummed a little, then spoke.

"Fear of what exactly?" Her explanation on Halloween hadn't been very detailed, but he had gotten the gist of how awful her life had been before she arrived here.

"Fear of pain," Sansa says, thinking back to what Ramsay and Joffrey did to her. She still has the marks of it on her pale, pale skin and she knows he can see them.

"My husband did not look to my pleasure and found his in my pain and my suffering. He sought to shatter me, to break me with his body, his hands, with everything he had. I'm afraid of the pain. I don't want to associate you with pain, Jake."

Jake's fingers traced the marks on her back, his thoughts tinged in red. Not with her, never with Sansa, but anger at what others did to her.

"But he didn't break you. Those marks means you were stronger than him, that you survived. And I know we're still learning each other, but you trust me, and I have only once given you any fright. And that was because I wanted you to feel good, but surprised you."

Jake reached for the soap, then. "We're going to run out of hot water soon, sweet. And you're going to be a prune, soon."

"I just don't want you to be inside me and all I get from it is pain and fear," Sansa says, shoulders slumping a little.

"I'm afraid of it. I'm a strong woman. I shouldn't be afraid, I know that, but I am."

Jake dropped a kiss on her forehead, then began to wash himself.

"You did have my fingers inside you, but they're not the same as my dick. You were wet enough, though. And I think that's what hurt you with your husband. One, you didn't want sex, so your body wasn't ready. And two, you had no idea what exactly is supposed to go on, so you were scared of the unknown. Then of course afterwards it was just him hurting you because he liked to hurt those he thought weaker than him."

He sighed. "A lot of men think that way, even in my world."

"I used to feel filthy after he was finished with me," Sansa says. "I would sit in the bath as long as I could stand it and I would never feel clean. It doesn't feel like that with you. It feels good with you. It feels right."

Jake rinsed himself off then made sure Sansa was rinsed as well, before stepping out of the shower and shutting ff the water. He snagged a towel and started drying her, and a second one for her hair.

"I'm glad you don't feel filthy with me." Jake said, feeling so inadequate to what Sansa told him. But at least she trusts him.

Squeezing the water out of her hair, Jake started braiding it, not really noticing he was still damp and very naked.

"You make me feel good. You're kind to me. All I've ever wanted was a husband who would be kind and gentle with me," Sansa says.

She sighs a little and straightens her shoulders. "I shouldn't be telling you all of this."

Jake was pretty sure he made a great boyfriend, but husband was another ballpark entirely. He swallowed. But this wasn't about him.

"Why? We're seeing each other. Dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend. We spend the night at each others places. So why shouldn't you tell me things?"

"You are my lover, not my lord husband," Sansa says. To her, there is a distinct difference.

"I do not wish to frighten you away. We are not bound by vows, you owe no fealty to me. Such things shouldn't be discussed outside of a marriage. Such things shouldn't be discussed within a marriage, really."

Step lightly, Jensen.

Jake nodded, finally drying himself, much rougher than when he dried Sansa. Picking up his glasses, he drew her into the bedroom, and paused at her dresser.

"I am your lover, yes, and that sort of information is good to share. At least that's what I always thought. But I can promise you something. As long as we're together, I'll be faithful to you." He reached into her drawers, and pulled out a silver gray silk and lace nightie, holding it for Sansa to take if she chose.

Sansa takes the nightie and drops it over her head, letting it fall down over her skin. She smooths it down and turns, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him deeply. She does appreciate him and cares for him deeply; she needs him to know that more than anything.

"I am yours, Jake. I do not need to be your wife to know that."

His hand curved behind Sansa's neck as she kissed him, and when she pulled back to speak, he rested his forehead against hers, a soft smile on his face.

"Yeah? Well, I'm yours too." Jake stepped back slowly, trying to keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Not time yet. Too soon.

"Go ahead and get in bed, Sansa. I gotta get my stuff from the living room." Petunia and Jonquil were already snoozing on the bed as Jake let the room, a towel slung over his hips.

Sansa watches him as he leaves, distracted by the play of the muscles in his back as he moves across the apartment. She gasps a little, ashamed that she's been staring and quickly makes her way back to the bed and turns down the blankets.

"Petunia, Jonquil, you're going to have to move," she chides, trying to get them out of a pile in the middle of the bed and somewhere more acceptable.

Don't be ashamed of ogling Jake, Sansa. He's about to climb into bed with you.

Jake reappeared, clad in boxers and a somewhat loose green t-shirt, and moved to help herd the babies out of the middle of the bed, one hand trailing over Sansa's back as he went to the other side of the bed.

"Petunia. Move. Jonquil, you too. Move." He picked up both of them and plopped them on the floor. "Wait till I call you." He pulled down the covers and slid in the bed, patting the empty side.

"They're waiting on us, Sansa."

Sansa slides into bed and curls up against Jake's chest. This is her favorite part of the day, honestly, and she's glad that this place has given her him and the relationship they have with one another.

"You've trained them quite well."

Jake arranges the blankets around them, then pats the covers.

"Petunia, Jonquil. Bedtime." He bussed Sansa's forehead with his lips and grinned.

"It's in the tone, mostly. I helped some of the K-9 teams on base with their training and picked up some things."

"So what tone do you use on me, hmm?"

Sansa is mostly teasing, considering she doesn't understand half of what he's said about K-9 teams and the base and she wants to be light and teasing with him for a moment.

"Not the same one as I use on the kids." Jake smiled as their fluffs hopped up on the bed and made nests in the covers.

"Though I might have to be firm if I think you're in danger." He shrugged, a hand rubbing circles on Sansa's silk covered hip.

"Oh? Could you be firm with me, then? Just so I know how it sounds?" Sansa is teasing and her skin flushes hot, a wash of crimson against porcelain.

"I should...I would like to know."

Her blush did things to his libido, but then again, he hadn't found anything Sansa did or said to dampen his desire for her.

Fuck, he had it bad for her, he knew, but to be undone by a blush? Jensen, you sap. But then again. Sansa was a princess, and somewhere deep inside him was the little boy who wanted to be a knight in shining armor for a princess.

And his princess want him to get bossy with her. Holy Jesus.

Jake cleared his throat, the octave dropping a little, and then the tone:

"Sansa."

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