Author's note: Based on Sandor's Bloody Letter by Maroucia
The ever brilliant Maroucia's 1-page Fan-Fiction letter served as a jumping off point for my first Fan-Fiction. In true Fan-Fiction style I have not been too descriptive with surrounds and history - fans of George R R Martin books A Song of Ice & Fire and TV fans of Game of Thrones will know it all and have firm knowledge of the people, places and time. Set in Kings Landing immediately prior to the Battle of Blackwater. The fantastic drunken note Maroucia wrote has been edited as was too long for my purposes. Full credit to her for chapter 1, and GRRM for characters and setting. Warning; slow-burn; it gets there.
CHAPTER 1 - The Letter
Little bird,
When you bumped into me you were so beautiful in that far too tight dress, the sight of your teats begging to be freed from their prison only brought water to my mouth. I told you how pretty you looked in the sun little bird, but what I truly meant was you would look sublime in my bed.
Little bird, believe my words, you really found a buggering slave in me. I'd be willing to crawl at your feet to sleep on the floor by your bed every night and be no more than a dirty rug for you to set your pretty feet upon. That is far more than you'll ever get from any of those buggering knights you love so much, isn't it? They kneel - that's a fact - yet, will they crawl?
I know such confessions coming from the likes of me will overwhelm you little bird, you'll be scared out of your wits at learning the intensity of my lust for you, but I plead don't be for all I crave is to let you know the bliss you deserve. I hear you say that you are promised to another, yet he doesn't deserve you or please you, so why not allow me to pleasure you? 'But I must stay a maiden!' you object. That's a fucking pity, nevertheless there are ways I could please you whilst leaving you intact, as if you had never been touched and were still as pure as a bloody newborn.
I'd fucking kill an army of men to get more from you, but I'll gladly satisfy myself being a mere dog and lick that unsoiled cunt of yours; I'd drink every last drop of your sweet juice and still have thirst for more. I wouldn't stop there. My tongue aches to get a taste of your undoubtedly lovely little arsehole. I would nuzzle it and kiss it as softly as you dream of pressing your lips to those damned valorous knights.
Oh, I hear you complain, that's filthy! Listen to my bloody words: nothing about the goddess that you are could ever repel me. Besides, I'm certain that little arsehole of yours is as adorable as a burgeoning flower. Even if that was all you'd ever give, I wouldn't find it in me to complain and I'd lick it with a hunger you could never have foreseen.
Notwithstanding my eagerness to fill your little behind with my tongue, I'd also find that nervous little nub and caress it until you shook in my hands and your insides exploded in ecstasy. You would moan and squeal until you barely had a voice left to ask for more, but oh if you did I'd comply and fuck you all through the night as I know you truly long me to. No matter that you don't realise it yet; and afterwards you wouldn't care about that damned maidenhead of yours. No, you wouldn't, that's a bloody given. You really shouldn't anyway.
Take your time thinking about my proposition, little bird, and although I'm a patient man, I won't lie and pretend that you, little bird, are not all I can think about these days. You know I'll be drinking the sight of you, watching every step you take until I hear from you.
Your obedient and ever lustful dog.
SC
CHAPTER 2 - Sansa
She'd been asleep when the sound of a heavy thud on her door had awoken her, causing her to sit up with a fright. The fire lit the room sufficiently with a golden glow for her to see pieces of parchment slide under the door. By the look of the logs in the fire she knew that, although it was late, it was very far from morning. Perplexed, Sansa silently peeled back the covers and cautiously alighted from her bed, crossing the room with her heart beating heavily in her chest, she pressed her ear to the door.
She could hear someone drunkenly scuff along the stone passageway, and when she was confident they were gone she gathered up the three pieces of parchment which lay at her feet and made her way to the chair by the small fireplace. Reaching for her dressing gown, sliding her arms into it and drawing it closed around herself, she lit a candle for further illumination and sat down to read the letter.
The lengthy note was addressed to 'Little bird' and she immediately knew its author could only be Sandor Clegane, the Hound. He was King Joffrey's favored Kingsguard and from first meeting Sansa he had taken to calling her little bird, initially in a derogatory fashion, probably to remind her that she was trapped unknowingly, naïve and ultimately crushable. After a time though, it had on occasion become a term of endearment said in his low and gravelly voice in an almost affectionate manner.
Having sat herself down in a relaxed fashion to read, by the end of the first paragraph, … you would look sublime in my bed, she was sitting stiffly upright in her chair wide-eyed, her jaw dropped open and totally unsure whether to read any further. The words had clearly been written under the heavy influence of a large amount of wine, the script being at best legible. She absently tugged at her long hair braid and within a moment she had decided to continue. Pulling one leg up and folding it underneath herself, she dove into the second paragraph.
… will they crawl? Although the idea itself was bizarre and crudely proposed she couldn't help but see the desperation behind the sentiment, if not its subtle romance. To think of the Hound curled up on her floor awaiting nothing but to service the warmth of her feet. It was surprising, but kind. It was not the first time she had seen kindness in him. His gruff manner was often difficult to see through but she had and more than once.
She read the third paragraph word by word. Slowly, purposefully. He wanted to pleasure me! Her body was as shocked as her mind and she could feel a lightness rise through her, as if air had been added to her blood. He spoke of leaving me intact, which was honourable, as well as infinitely fascinating.
The fourth paragraph showed how truly drunk and depraved he was. Sansa almost compulsively threw the letter on the fire, but with her arm outstretched and her fingers refusing to release the pages, she stopped. Her mind was racing, but so was her body. The lightness in her blood had turned to heat, fire almost, and her breaths became shallow. A sensation she had never before felt and it halted her in her tracks, as well as somehow pushed her forward. Slowly and uneasily she drew her hand back towards herself and read on.
… nothing about the goddess that you are could ever repel me. Again, Sansa saw the utter and complete devotion, the romance even. Why did he have to intersperse it with such crudity, such vulgarity? She knew the answer, he is the Hound. He is a drunkard, he is crude and vulgar, but she also knew he was so much more.
He had neglected his duty towards the King and sought instead to secure Sansa's safety the day of the riot. She had thought of it often since, "You're alright now little bird" he had lowly rasped as he lifted her from the dirt having run-through with his longsword the men who sought to rape her. She should have been mortified at him seeing her in her dishevelled state, skirts pushed up, her legs exposed, and worse her breasts bared after having her gown torn apart, but she wasn't mortified, all she had felt that day was overwhelming relief and gratefulness for his broad shoulders and strength as he carried her weightlessly through the crowd and back to the safety of the Red Keep.
Her thoughts turned back to the letter and she continued to read. Seven hells! - Sansa thought. He wrote of her nub and the ecstasy he would help her find! Sansa really didn't know what to do with that thought, it engulfed her, her body responding to the mere idea. Her brain was on fire and that was not the least of it. He continued, telling her that he knew she wanted him. The audacity! But no sooner had that thought come to her mind than her inner-self reminded her that she'd been aware of her own small crush on him at some level for some time.
For all his brutishness, the Hound intrigued her. He spoke to her with such honesty, undeniable harshness at times but always honesty. He'd often taken chances to warn her about the true nature of Kings Landing, its knights and politics. Initially she'd felt he was being cruel, taking pleasure in his attempts to crush her girlish ideals, but over time and with reflection she had seen it in truth.
On that dreadful day when Joffrey had ordered her to be beaten and half stripped in the throne room as punishment for brother Robb's victory at the battle of Oxcross, it was the Hound who had stepped forward and covered her shameful exposure by tossing his cape over her. Such a kindness was not to be overlooked nor underestimated and she had been eternally grateful to him. He'd also interceded when she contemplated pushing Joffrey from the ramparts. Although unspoken, she felt sure it was not as a duty to his King but as protection to her. Saving her from leaping after him in her despair at her beloved father's death or her head being mounted next to his.
So much had happened in her time at Kings Landing. Since her father's death it had been a prison and torturous for her. Falsely paraded to the world as a future Queen and privately tormented by the horrid King. Her skin crawled at the thought of marrying him or bearing his children.
Shaking the sensation off, she started reading the letter anew. Sansa knew she should throw it on the fire. It would surely cost Clegane his head were any but her eyes to read it, but she found she could not release it, pawing over it incessantly. She slept no more that night. What was that fool Hound thinking? To have thoughts such as this is one thing, to put them down on parchment was quite another … and further, to deliver it! To give it to her was unfathomable, but here it lay in her lap and was quite tangibly real.
As the first streams of morning light crept into her room she folded the letter and hid it safely behind a board at the back of her bookshelf. It was not a shelf that was touched by anyone but her and she felt confident it would not be found. She extinguished the candle and removed her dressing gown, climbing back into bed to await the arrival of her personal maid Shae to rouse her.
CHAPTER 3 - Hound
The Hound was woken from his stupor by bird song. Seven hells those bloody birds are making a bastard racket! He slowly became aware of the reason for it, he was not behind the door of his chamber, but had instead slept against the hard stone wall of the courtyard. It was rare for him to become so drunk that he'd not make it back to his own room.
He squeezed one eye open only to be assaulted by the too bright sun and saw the cursed cause of his downfall. An abandoned wineskin lay beside him having seeped its contents on to the ground around it. Curses that had been a hard-drinking night! How many skins had he downed to make his head pound so? He was a big man and could hold a large amount of liquor, but this must have been an Herculean effort.
His bladder screamed at him for relief and he stumbled to his feet so he could piss against a wall. Finding his balance, he loosened his laces, pulled his cock into his hand and allowed his head to roll back as a blissful torrent rushed forth. In unison with his bladder emptying, his mind reached for images of the night before. Lust, writing, little bird! Had he really written a missive to her expressing every lustful thought that passed through his wine soaked brain? Surely not. The next image was the worst by far - Sansa's door, his hand leaning against it and parchment sliding beneath it!
Fuck, fuck, seven curses bastard FUCK! Had he, did he? By the seven he must have! He shook his cock of final drops, stuffing it back into his breeches, quickly pulling his laces tight. He looked towards the sun, still low in the sky - good - and by the lack of people in the courtyard there was a chance, by the seven let there be a chance! Suddenly finding a burst of energy; his blood, which he estimated to be 50% wine, pumped through his veins pushing him on as he ran through the courtyard and passageways, all the whilst pleading internally to the cursed gods old or new that the letter was somehow unread and laying at least partially exposed under the door.
He arrived at her door. Buggering bastard fuck gods! There was not even a hint of parchment poking out from beneath it. He had no option but to knock and did so quickly before he changed his mind. Sansa came to the door, wrapped in her dressing gown. Clearly Shae had not been to her yet, good - he thought. Her eyes caste down as soon as she realised it was him. Nowt in that, he thought, she always struggled to meet anyone's eye; demure creature that she was. He quickly scanned the floor. Nothing, bastard nothing! Not even under the small table which rested against the wall under the window to the side of the door.
Surely, if Sansa had read the letter he'd already have had the door slammed in his face? Perhaps it was just a dream? A fucking nightmare more like! She was speaking. He was so absorbed in his own throbbing head he hadn't made out what she had said. He collected himself and spoke, the voice of someone who had drunk excessively and not spoken today. He mumbled a pardon. "What is it you want, ser?" she repeated. By the blazes what do I want? Thinking quickly, he grunted something about making sure she'd be at court on time today, that the King would require her presence. She smiled with a nod and said, "I'll be sure of it. Is that all you require?"
The Hound nodded his understanding, turned and walked away. As he lumbered down the passage to the stairs he suddenly became aware of his own stench. The wine was fair leeching out of his skin.
The relief was palpable. Bloody fool! What a dream, although only possessing pieces of it he'd thought he'd written some foul things to her but he can't have. For if he had she'd surely have had something terse to say to him? He allowed his eyelids to get heavy as he made his way back to his own bed chamber breathing with great sighs of relief.
The passageways were starting to bustle and he realised he was now late in starting his own day. Once in his room he quickly stripped down and cloth-washed before putting on fresh clothes and strapping on his armour. Belting his longsword around himself, he reached for his cloak clipping it to his shoulders as he headed out the door to seek some bread and cheese from the kitchen hall on his way to his duties.
What followed was an uneventful day. A standard session in court with Joffrey hearing complaints of the district with his usual distain. Sansa was indeed at court, sitting with other ladies dutifully listening to everything. The Hound didn't look to her as he normally would have whilst standing in his place to the side of the King, instead he allowed his armour to near hold himself upright as he sweated off the last of the wine.
He returned to his chamber after his duty. I'm not bloody drinking tonight - he thought to himself as he carefully removed his armour stacking it purposefully on a stand in the corner of his room. It was then that he saw the quill on the floor and the table splattered with pools of half-dried ink.
CHAPTER 4 - Sansa
He'd come to her chamber just past day-break that morning. He was clearly still drunk and she thought in search of the letter. She'd notice him caste his eyes around the floor and room. His perplexed and worried countenance had quickly changed. His reason for being there, although plausible, seemed conjured and she thought perhaps that the stress behind his eyes dissipated as she continued to stand at the door.
By the seven he reeked; the sour mix of stale wine and old acrid sweat. He was unable to hold himself in his usual statue-like stance. She had almost felt sorry for him. She doubted the possibility of him having a true nor accurate memory of the letter, or of the night before having still been in such a state so many hours later. She'd seen many a blind drunk around the castle in the past and most seemed oblivious to their behaviour the following day. So, she had stoically stood by the door acting as normally as she could. She'd become quite the mummer since her father's death, always putting on one face in public and another in private, and always, always a particularly good performance before Joffrey and Cersei.
Her day had passed without event. First at court, where Joffrey displayed no particular need of her presence, confirming her suspicion that the Hound had been thinking on his feet for a reason to check her floor. In truth, uneventful was just how she preferred her day. Joffrey's cruelties were a constant strain in her life and a day without humiliation was a good one. The Hound, who had been at court, hadn't paid any attention to her, which is just as well as she doubted her ability to unabashedly take his gaze for any extended period.
She'd spent part of the afternoon at the Godswood, although she'd hastened from there when thoughts of the letter crossed her mind. It was no place for impurity and certainly no place to allow the Hound's phrases to dwell upon her. Her loyal dog; that was perhaps the largest theme she had tried to glean from the drunken tirade.
She'd continued from the Godswood to the Red Keep wall overlooking the port. On a beautiful day like today you'd be forgiven for thinking that Kings Landing was a pleasant place to live. The sun shone brightly on the blue sea and the sails of many merchant ships billowed in the harbour. There was a hum of people labouring below her and, as she watched, she started to allow some of the letter to float through her mind. He was her slave, he wished only to serve her, he'd fight for her, he'd only do what she wanted him to do; above all he was loyal. Smut aside, and there was a lot of it to push aside, the underlying theme of the letter was perhaps even beautiful when viewed through the right lens.
It was with these thoughts in mind, and whilst watching a ship sail away on the high tide, that she realised that perhaps rather than a loyal dog and lustful admirer, just perhaps, what she had in the Hound most of all was an ally. Allies were non-existent in her life in the capital. As the daughter of a traitorous father, and sister to an equally traitorous brother, she had no-one she could trust and no-one she could turn to.
What she wanted most of all was to escape from here and return to her beloved north, but she had no hope of that. Joffrey would never give up his play thing, it simply wasn't in his selfish nature to let something go that he could so easily torment or destroy. Her future was bleak, caged as she was, never knowing when a blow she receives on Joffrey's instruction would be a blow too far. In some ways, she wished that one of the King's henchmen would strike her the wrong way and too hard, at least then she'd be at peace.
As she made her way back to her chamber to change her gown for supper she again thought of the Hound, but this time with a smile. Perhaps her loyal dog would be her saviour?
CHAPTER 5 - Hound
Sleep had been hard to reach him. That fucking quill! He was a man of few words on any day. In fact, his preference was no words. What in the gods had possessed him to write to her? For the life of him he could not recall what it was he had written, but what he knew for sure is that there had been mention of her teats and gods her cunt! He clenched his jaw and felt physically ill.
It is true he'd been fascinated by her since he first laid eyes upon her as a child at Winterfell, when he'd travelled north with King Robert's caravan to request her father act as hand to the King. He'd not seen a girl so untouched by life before and it had gathered in him a feeling of wonder of what life could have been if he too had been kept safe and far from cruel realities.
That innocence had soon been wiped from her when she'd been brought back to the capital and experienced the wrath of its politics. Her innocence had long since been crushed with all she had suffered but her beauty, her beauty had not only remained it had blossomed as she reached womanhood and her teats and hips swelled. Those plump white pillows had given him many a quick release as he mused upon them. But the thought of that cunt, so close and accessible under her skirts, that had given him more. He'd rise whenever he ruminated upon it, picturing the red and golden curls of hair which were sure to surround it, its pink folds glistening, beckoning his touch. Gods - hard again for her, he thought as he quickly reached under the bedcovers to pound out a release. At least that act dulled his mind and soothed his body, bringing sleep upon him.
When he rose from his bed the next morning he was grateful that the effects on his body of his drunken escapade two nights before had finally passed, but lo the effects on his mind remained. How the fuck was he to deal with this? Or perhaps he wasn't? She'd certainly given no indication at her door, nor at court that she was disturbed by the contents. So, maybe she'd got one paragraph in and tossed it on the fire where it belonged? He resolved to set it from his mind and carry on with his day. Besides what else could he do? He could hardly raise the matter with her? No, swept aside, that's where it belonged. So, on with his day he went.
That night there was a gathering in the great hall. Nothing spectacular or grand, just the usual crowd of nobles, ladies and knights surrounded by food, wine and song. All fawning to the bloody wretched King. Little bird perched delicately near Joffrey's side exuding a mix of blank disinterest and solid strength. He avoided these situations as much as he could, having little time for the bastard leeches that paraded around and no use for dances nor song.
He found himself purloining a skin of wine and making his way into the corridors to drink in solitude. Once he'd secured himself a place in the shadows, near enough to hear a call if he were to be needed but far enough away to blot out the inane rumblings of the great hall, he leaned back upon the wall to suck on the wine, eyes shut in his boredom.
After some time, he heard footsteps too light to be that of a man and peered out from his hiding place behind a pillar to see who it was. He immediately took in the sight of little bird scurrying towards him, on her way to her chamber no doubt to retire for the evening. Her delicate feathers looking oh so pretty tonight.
"What are you doing all alone little bird?" He gruffly said as she reached his covert.
She drew in a quick breath with fright, billowing those delicious pillows further. "I - I was heading to my chamber, ser." She spluttered.
"How many times little bird, not a damnable ser!" He barked, before quickly changing his tone and rumbling, "You should be escorted. Who knows how many drunken fools lurk the passages?"
"Are you offering your services?" She replied, tilting her head so sweetly and looking him in the eye.
"Aye, I may as well. It will take me away from those blithering turds (nudging his head towards the hall) if only for a moment." At that she smiled briefly and continued on her way, with him silently following paces behind. As they reached her door he spoke and said, "Safe to your nest now little bird, sleep well."
"I will, Hound." She replied sweetly and instantly entered the room shutting the door quickly behind her.
He stood frozen to the spot, staring blindly at a knot on the door, his mind overcome with a flash, of what he wasn't sure. It was almost pain but not. She had never called him Hound before. It was a name he was long since used to. In fact, his true name Sandor was queerer to his ear. He took no derogatory meaning from the name Hound, although he knew others meant it that way, but from her lips it had sent a shiver up his spine stirring his very core.
He broke his stance, turning back to travel down the passage pulling on his wine as he went trying to discern what possible meaning this could have?
CHAPTER 6 - Sansa
She had been so quick to enter the room, and swing the door shut behind her, that she almost didn't notice Shae busying herself in the adjacent bathing room preparing for her evening ablutions.
"Are you alright m'lady?" Shae had spoken with a slight air of concern when she found Sansa leaning against the closed door.
"Yes, only tired and ready for my bed." Sansa had responded moving away from the timber brace.
Shae had lit the fire and candles, for although it was warm during the sunny days of autumn, the nights cooled significantly. "I'll have you ready for sleep in no time m'lady." Shae had said as she'd reached behind her mistress for the laces of her gown, loosening them and pulling it down to the ground for Sansa to step out of, revealing her loose fine linen shift.
Sansa rested on the edge of her large featherbed to slide off her own stockings before removing herself to the bathing room to wash and have her hair brushed out and woven in a simple loose braid for sleep.
Dressed now in a fresh shift she moved across the room and gently slid the bolt across the door as soon as Shae had left. With candle in hand Sansa quickly found her hiding place on the shelf and removed the letter. Putting the candle upon the bedside table and dropping herself on to her bed, she momentarily allowed herself to take in the soft comfort and safety it oozed.
Unfolding the sheets of parchment, she lightly caressed with her fingertips the smudged and splattered words scrawled across the pages, even lifting the parchment to her nose to see if she could discern any scent the writer may have inadvertently left behind. He hadn't, which was probably just as well considering the imbibed state of him when writing. The words fascinated her and she was quickly losing her disgust at certain passages, instead somewhat revelling in a shared and exotic secret.
There was no doubt many found the Hound to be an ugly beast, but she had long since been able to look upon him freely, although demurely and without disgust. Half his face ravaged by flame as a child, it was fortunate both eyes remained clear dark pits of intrigue. The unscarred side of his face masculine and strong, and in truth a weathered handsome, although not pretty like that of Ser Loras.
As a girl those pretty knights had been the ones she favoured, even Joffrey had caught her eye - a thought which now disgusted her - but with the coming of her flowering, and long since, she had found herself looking at men in a new light. No longer interested in the clean and perfect roses but the more rugged and robust men, with their coarse hair sprouting intriguingly on face and arms, the musky scent they seemed to leave as they passed her by and the imagined muscles they had. In truth, she'd not seen the Hound much outside his hard steel shell of armour, but she felt sure there was an interesting specimen underneath.
She had been bold to refer to him by his adopted name, and the memory brought a smile along with a finger to her lips. Had he taken any meaning from it, she pondered? She was almost sure he had, as she had noticed it took more than a moment for him to move away from the door. The thought broadened her smile. Stunning the Hound; now that was a feat not many would ever manage. He was always a strong, reserved, powerful presence, and somewhat teasing at times. Always seemingly in control of himself and ready to control any situation which should arise.
His letter, his words revealed otherwise. A looseness, a recklessness, a lust which was becoming more exciting to her. Reading every word again she blew out the candle, clutching the pages to her belly as she allowed herself to enjoy the delicious sensations they pushed through her body. Imagining the words whispered in her ear in his low and gravelly voice as she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 7 - Hound
He'd had a joyous pull putting himself to bed that night reflecting over her teats, imagined warm cunt and, surprisingly for him, her words. 'Hound' escaping from her lips had been a pure and unexpected delight. The tone and word was unlikely to escape his memory anytime soon, and rolled deliciously around his head.
Waking the next morning he felt almost happy. A state completely foreign to him. He strode into his day determined to seek some subtle contact with Sansa in the hope his name would escape her lips once more.
He met his quarry as she strolled alone near the Godswood that afternoon. It was not a place many went, as the old gods had long been frowned upon in the capital, and he was more than aware of her routines.
That morning his eyes had been on her as she sat in court, prettily covered in a rose hued silk. There was nothing unusual in him watching her there, he was after all a dog who would seek out a bitch. No, what was unusual was her eyes upon him. It is not as if he had never found her looking at him, and if she did he was no whet boy about it. He'd stand his ground and take the look. No, what differed today was the length of her look before returning her eyes to their usual demure downward gaze. He caught the look a second time and it strengthened his resolve to seek her that afternoon.
When he did find her, there had seemed nothing unusual about her as she slowly approached. She reached his side intending to pass him when she tripped, stumbling on the stony path and fell to one knee. His reaction was instant and he too went down on one knee facing her, grabbing her arms below the shoulders to secure her from falling further.
She took but a moment to seemingly catch her breath before saying, "Thank you m'lord" and adding a whispered "Hound." His eyes looked directly into hers and he couldn't hide his perplexed look from her. As he pulled her upright she whispered again, "We must talk. Will you help me Hound?"
Dumbfounded by the interaction he nodded a quick affirmation and spoke under his breath, "Not here, I'll find you."
It had taken two days for an opportunity to present itself. There was yet another feast well underway in the great hall. He'd had some pulls of wine and again taken a skin to hide in the shadows of the passage. This time he ignored the need to be in earshot of commands, finding a quieter spot where he could openly see any threats and far enough away from any access points that no eyes nor ears could see him.
After inspecting the surrounding area thoroughly, he hid himself behind a pillar in the dark of the dimly lit passage and rested against the wall awaiting Sansa's approach; abandoning the wineskin on the floor having taken it for appearances sake alone.
He'd watched several people pass him as he waited for what felt like a long two hours, when he finally saw her approach alone. Good birdie, he thought. Grasping her arm and jerking her towards him into the dark he breathed, "It's safe to talk here, but be quick."
She was lightly panting from the small shock he had given her and he couldn't help but imagine her breasts rise and fall with her breaths. He continued to hold her close against himself to keep her out of sight and relished their proximity as he did. Leaning his head down close to her face, so they may speak as lowly as possible, she took a deeper breath and asked "Will you help me Hound? Will you help me escape?"
Their faces were almost touching and he took only a heartbeat to reply. "Of course, little bird." He could feel rather than see her smile and felt her body relax at the thought of escape. He went on, "It, will take me some time to formulate and ready a safe plan, but be set to make a move as soon as I instruct. No plan would be truly safe little bird, but I will do all I can for you. Is it north you wish to go?"
"Yes, yes!" She whispered in return.
"Right, you will need to leave all but essentials behind. The lighter we are escaping, the safer it will be. Little bird, it may be dangerous but you are not safe here and I never see that you will be." He rumbled.
"I know," she said, "I fear for my life daily."
At that their cheeks did brush, as he whispered, "We will talk once more, but only once before we go. Remember, be prepared to go always." He glanced around and pushed her into the passage before gruffly and loudly saying "Damn bird. I've told you not to walk on your own." Before scooping up his wineskin and following behind her.
As they reached her chamber door she turned and looked at him saying, "Thank you."
"Bah," he grumbled "a dog's job is always to follow someone somewhere." Turning on his heels he left.
CHAPTER 8 - Sansa
It was hard to suppress her glow entering her chamber, but knowing Shae would be making bedtime preparations she stifled her smile. For a year she had been acting continuously. Acting content and bleating comments about her 'one true love' - who she hated to her core. For once she felt actual happiness and could not let it show.
As soon as Shae departed she bolted the door and started preparations for her escape. Warm clothing was essential, so she reached into the bottom of a chest to retrieve her warmest dress made from a practical moss green wool. Her mother had it made for her more than two years earlier when she'd left Winterfell for the capital. It had been sewn to allow extra layers of warm shifts underneath, and was plenty loose to allow for growth.
No doubt her mother had hopes of its need to return to Winterfell at some stage. Sansa suspected she had grown taller than even her mother could anticipate and when she held it in front of herself it sat disappointingly several inches above the floor. Checking the hem, she saw there were several deep folds of fabric, so she pulled out her embroidery threads and set to releasing and resewing the hem. It was not easy work in the dimly lit room, but it was not something she could risk doing in daylight. As a competent sewer, she was finished that same night.
Sliding the dress over her shift she determined that it would do even though it still didn't touch the floor, it was close. The same could not be said of the sleeves. There was some hem allowance there but not nearly enough. She decided that seeing to that would be her first job tomorrow night. She'd have to repurpose some fabric from something else to make cuffs to elongate the arms. An old shawl or thick velvet ribbon would suffice. She'd muse upon that tomorrow. At not quite five and ten she was tall and thin, despite generous curves. She smiled broadly as she looked at the dress. It laced in the front for travelling, unlike her elegant silk dresses of court which laced at the back and required the help of a maid.
She rifled further through the chest. Good - her travelling cloak was there, and again it had a generous hem; another candlelit task for another night. Bless her mother's foresight. Although it was quality fabric it did not scream wealth in its subdued and practical grey. Sansa felt sure she would be travelling as a less highly ranked person so searched for shawls that were both warm and unadorned, folding the ones she selected into a black draw string purse. She came upon two pairs of brown woollen stockings which, although they had seen better days and would not go as far up her leg as they once had, they would suffice. Adding these, along with two thick shifts that had been made in Winterfell, she was feeling quite prepared.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed and rushed to the bathing room to seek out some rags. Dealing with her moon-blood on the run would not be an easy task, but she had no choice about it and she added them to the pouch.
She turned her mind to gloves. She had an old pair of worn but hardy riding gloves and had soon added them to her stash. They would not be missed as she had a newer more elegant pair she preferred to use now. Laying her hands upon a sturdy comb and practical black velvet ribbon, she decided they too would not be missed. She had prettier things she used more readily and if the whereabouts of the plainer items were to be questioned she could say she had broken the comb and disposed of it. She knelt on the floor folding her capes and old dresses back into the little used chest giving it the appearance it had had when she'd opened it.
The boots she wore riding would be the best choice and she determined to repurpose a fur collar and hem from a childhood dress to make warm cuffs for the boots and an internal cuff for the hood of her cape.
The candle had burned down considerably by the time she retrieved the letter from its hiding place and climbed upon the bed. She again read through its words as she had done nightly since receiving it, but this time the words brought even more excitement. Leaning over she blew out the candle, flopped back on to her pillow, clutching the pages to her chest and closed her eyes to reminisce about the Hound's warm breath upon her face and whispers in her ear.
CHAPTER 9 - Hound
Before the dawn had broken the Hound had set upon a plan. It would take a certain amount of luck but he felt sure he could orchestrate it; besides what bloody options did little bird have? If he didn't steal her away soon he felt sure her life would take a turn for the worse with Joffrey unavoidably taking her as either his wife or mistress. The war was drawing ever closer to Kings Landing too. Any maiden, let alone a pretty one, would not fare well during a sacking. The sooner she was far away the safer she would be.
Fuck me - it had been good having her body pulled close and her face closer. He could still feel her cheek brush against his and she hadn't pulled away in fright. He'd had to keep his focus in that dark corner, ears and eyes alert to anyone coming, but now he was in his own bed he could play with the memories and sensations at will.
He stole away from the keep as often as he could over the next few days building the plan, seeking covert assistance, all the while maintaining his appearance as the rough drinking sod he was. Little bird had played her part well too. Wincing in fright to any of his coarse remarks. Maintaining her distance from him. He was close to having everything in place. Rumours of an attack on Kings Landing grew ever louder, and then a couple of days later he was finally ready.
He'd tracked her to the path leading from the Godswood and giving her a curt nod she'd stumbled, so he could bend and help her up. "Are you ready little bird?" He'd enquired quietly.
"Yes" she replied.
"Good" he breathed. "Meet me in the passage about 10 pm, I'll return you to your chambers. Can you rid yourself of your maid for the night?"
"I will." She'd whispered.
"Feint a reason for me to check your room." He said, before briskly pulling her up and barking, "Better you'd had wings, your damned feet don't seem much use to you." She'd dipped her head and scurried past him.
He'd sought his position an hour before, trusty wineskin in hand. With a battle due any day, the prevailing mood was 'eat, drink and be merry for we all may die.' It worked in his favour, as did the lack of love people had for him in general. People keenly avoided him and didn't question his motives on anything. For the most part, the crowd was staying in the hall and imbibing. Whores a plenty amongst the host. She passed by his pillar as instructed and he barked at her from the shadows, "Bloody bird, I've told you and told you. Don't walk alone!"
She mumbled a nervous apology and he fell into line behind her.
When they got to the door she said clearly, "Ser, I hear a noise and my maid is not within. I saw her at the feast."
"Not a ser!" He grumbled, "Stand aside. I'll take a look." Their play was for no-one in particular as the passage was void of people. Better to be safe though. She'd followed him through the door and he reached over her head and silently pushed it closed.
Looking down upon her he whispered, "Get changed little bird. You leave immediately. Your plainest dress and cloak."
She pushed past him and began working by the glow the fireplace offered, reaching down and opening a chest, pulling her dress over the blue silk gown she already wore and drawing the laces tight. She slung a cloak over her shoulders.
"Hide your hair little bird" he cautioned, as he watched her swiftly move about the room. She reached for a plain scarf and tied it firmly around her head and shoulders, lifting the gaping hood of her cloak to ensure the fraud and picking up a plain silver pin to secure it shut. She dumped her jewellery in a kerchief and dropped it into her readied black pouch. Kicking off her silken slippers, she pulled on her leather riding boots. The Hound stole a quick glimpse at her legs as she did so.
He bent down to her and quickly whispered, "Trust me little bird. You will be placed in a sack. You will have to stay still and quiet within as it is transported to a ship and winched onboard. The captain is expecting you. He will knock on your cabin door when it is safe enough for you to release yourself from the sack, but do not rest easy. Be quiet there little bird. I will join you as soon as it is safe to, but it will take until tomorrow night. We leave upon the early morning tide thereafter. Now follow me in the shadows until we reach a more populated zone, then you may walk beside me to the stables."
She nodded her understanding and clutched her pouch to her chest drawing her cape closed around her. As he moved towards the door she quickly ran to a bookshelf and grabbed a small book, adding it to her bag. Opening the door, he carefully scanned the corridor, giving a small nod whilst gruffly saying, "All is well little bird. Bloody frightened of your own shadow. Good night to you."
It had only been a few brief moments between the time they entered her chamber until the time they alighted again. Trusting the Hound's loud exit, Sansa had quietly stepped out behind him. Heart pounding, she pulled her door shut before she scuttled into the shadows on the other side of the poorly lit passage.
She had indeed been ready - the Hound thought as he loudly made his way back to their favoured dark rendezvous. They quietly rested in the dark for a moment before moving off together, the Hound's arm swung around her shoulders, his cloak offering her further but not total protection from being seen. He was moving as if a little drunk, not stumbling but not stepping smoothly, wine skin still in hand.
Everyone seemed thoroughly invested in having a good time in the great hall and they saw very few people as they moved towards the stable and entered. Once there the Hound reached under some straw for a large heavy canvas sack. He held it open as Sansa stepped inside and ducked down, pulling her knees to her chest.
"Here, keep this close." The Hound had breathed as he passed Sansa a small dagger. She took it in hand without question. He then placed some old pieces of armour on top of her to distort her shape, and tightly tied the sack closed. The Hound took a deep breath and hauled the sack over his shoulder before moving to a side door of the stable and placing the sack on a waiting cart.
The cart groaned as it took off immediately without the Hound saying a word. He stepped away and into the shadows to watch it travel across the courtyard and out of the gate. The guards did not question a delivery cart leaving the grounds, having satisfied themselves of its validity on its arrival an hour before. He breathed a deep sigh before lingering an appropriate amount of time for a stable shag with a wench, and returned to the hall to be seen and drink wine.
When he made it to his bed that night he struggled to sleep. Thinking only how scared she would have been confined to a sack and bouncing uncomfortably towards the port.
The Hound was breakfasting as expected when the call went out that Lady Sansa was missing. He quickly stood up and went to report for duty. Joffrey was spitting curses on whomever had harmed his intended. No-one seemed to know at what time she went missing, her silk gowns seemingly in their right place and only Sansa and her jewellery obviously missing.
The Hound stepped forward and told that when he escorted her to her chamber around 10 pm the previous evening all had been well. Her maid then claimed to have undressed her and seen her to bed. Bloody perfect, the Hound thought. Shae clearly having had too much to drink and knowingly neglecting her duties the night before was covering her own arse. This completely muddied the time of Sansa's disappearance. Her maid having found her chamber unoccupied this morning.
A thorough search of the castle and grounds were underway when the Hound suggested he make enquiries further afield and track her on the road, if it appeared that she had alighted. Joffrey agreed. "Sniff her out damn Hound, and don't return until she is found!" He squawked.
The Hound grunted his acknowledgement and said, "She's likely been spirited up the Kings Road towards home, your grace, or more likely when it reaches the River Road turned towards her brother's army."
Joffrey thought for a moment and said, "Go Hound! See what you can find."
His saddlebags were for the most part always ready except for a few minor items he threw in. Grabbing from the kitchens a decent amount of food for the road, he was making a good charade of the game. He headed to the stables and prepared his horse Stranger. It was a task he had to do himself as no stable boy was brave enough to approach it. It wasn't long before he was passing through the city gates and heading towards the Kings Road, angrily asking questions of anyone he saw along the way. When sufficiently out of town he hid himself and his horse amongst a copse of trees and awaited nightfall.
He couldn't deny it was a bastard nervous wait. The day had seemed endless. From where he had secreted himself he saw other soldiers heading up the road in search of Lady Sansa, no doubt meaning to follow other routes. Finally, he judged it dark and late enough to return to town, entering the port after midnight when only drunks walked, or rather lay, upon the streets.
His horse was quietly loaded aboard and he spent an hour in the hold brushing it down and settling it in. He waited thereafter, so as few people as possible on board would notice him. There were to be no other passengers, he'd paid the captain enough gold to ensure that. Besides, being a merchant ship there wasn't the room for paying guests. After some time a small boy came to him to direct him to the cabin, all crew being on deck preparing to set off with the turning tide.
He approached the door which the boy had showed him, putting the proffered key in the lock and turning it, whilst knocking softly he pushed it open.
CHAPTER 10 - Sansa
Sansa's heart was pounding at the sound of the key turning. She'd been sitting on the bed, dagger in hand, nervously listening to the increased activity above for the past two hours. The crew were very clearly preparing to set sail. She had known they were due to leave soon but with no sign of the Hound she was beyond terrified. How would she cope on her own? Who could she trust when she reached her destination? How would she save herself from rape before she even arrived? A constant stream of thoughts assaulted her. So, when the door did push open and he was standing there she couldn't stop herself from leaping from the bed and into his arms, locking her arms around his neck whilst bursting into a flood of tears.
He laughed gently, holding her tight and soothed, "Hush little bird, hush." She took quite some moments to calm herself down. Finally releasing her lock on his neck. Then there was a crash of the ship striking against the pier and a sudden lurch of motion. They were surely on their way? She thrust herself around his neck once more, this time planting a kiss upon his cheek as tears flooded anew from her eyes.
He was gently caressing the small of her back when she calmed herself for a second time and she became aware the dagger was still clenched in her fist. Releasing him once again, he'd laughed and rasped, "Careful little bird, I have only half a face as it is." Pointing to the dagger. Instinctively she dropped it as she took a step back. He rumbled with laughter again. Sansa thought she'd never heard such a wonderful sound.
She stood just looking at him. He broke the silence by saying, "I suppose you are wondering what plan I have? Where we are heading?" She nodded urging him on.
"This ship is from Essos. It's plying its wares up the eastern coast - spices and the like - making its way to White Harbour, stopping along the way. Where the harbour is not deep enough to dock, they will be rowing ashore to sell wares. I'm sorry little bird, but you will have to remain caged." He said with an apologetic look.
"No-one but the captain, his lad and I know that you're aboard and we need it to stay that way. Some crew saw me arrive last night but I'm having the captain pay them well for their silence. I hid from most down below with Stranger until it was safe for the boy to bring me to you."
He spoke earnestly now. "We remain at risk little bird. One of the king's ships could demand we stop and search us. It is fortunate this ship was not searched already, but no doubt as I had hoped they focused on getting information of ships that left on the last early tide and the afternoon tide since, no-one thinking that whoever took you would wait so long to be their way." He snorted to himself. "I am supposed to be searching for sign of you upon the Kings and River Roads, and first headed that direction. That is why I waited until nightfall to come to you."
Sansa stood taking in all he had said, before screwing up her face and replying, "But you will not be seen upon the Kings or River Roads in the days to come? Word of such is bound to return to Joffrey's ear."
"I too thought of that, little bird. I have paid a group of travelling mummers well to spread word of sightings of the Hound in search of his prey. There will be more gold for them, held by a trusted bar keep, in a year's time when they next return to Kings Landing - if they have done their job well. So, few know that I am not where I should be, and it is important to keep it that way for as long as we can. Besides, the war comes to Kings Landing any day, the confusion it creates will only help our cause, along with the need for soldiers and sailors to concentrate on battle, not a lost lady." He finished.
Sansa could not help but breathe heavily. Shutting her eyes, she put her head in her hands and said, "So, my request for aid, my false trip when I first asked for your help that day on the Godswood path, it - it could not have been more fortuitous?" Privately she thought of his drunken letter and it being the root of her trust to make her request. Tears welled in her eyes and she let them flow again.
He put his hand on her shoulder and urged her to lay down and rest, which she gladly did. She climbed upon the straw mattress and thought it could not have felt better than any feather bed, for it was taking her away from Kings Landing and all its horrors.
She watched him as he set about hanging his white cloak across the tiny dark timber room forming a small alcove where the chamber pot sat, before rolling out his bedroll on the floor next to her bed. He stretched out upon it, grunting as he did so and closed his eyes. I'd be willing to crawl at your feet to sleep on the floor by your bed every night and be no more than a dirty rug for you to set your pretty feet upon - she thought as she watched him lying there. It stirred her heart to see his words come true.
CHAPTER 11 – Hound
He lay upon the floor with his eyes shut listening to her breathing, and the vessel creak and groan, wondering at the relief she displayed in seeing his face. In his whole life, he'd never known someone to be so overwhelmed by his presence. He was used to being feared, he was used to being avoided. Even as a child people had shied away from him, not because he was a brut then, but because his face scared them.
His burns were not the result of any illness but, just the same, people seemed to fear them spreading to themselves like a disease. For all he'd constantly been around people since joining the service of the Lannister's, he was always stoic and alone even in a crowded room. Treated as a looming presence rather than a person. Yet, here she was openly thrusting herself into his arms. It felt like they'd spoken more words to each other in the past two nights than they ever had collectively, and he liked it.
He woke late the next morning to a knock on the door. It was the boy with breakfast for them and a bucket of warmed sea water.
The Hound dragged a small wooden tub from the corner of the dingy room and placed it behind his cape curtain. Removing his armour he stood in the tub splashing jugs of warm water over himself as he soaped himself. When he was done, he dried himself with a towel and put on fresh breeches and tunic. Pulling the cape aside he said, "Your turn little bird".
She'd slept in her silk dress. Rising, blushing she said, "You'll need to help me with my laces." As she pulled her hair aside and turned her back to him.
He found himself breathing deeply as he fumbled with the laces, the motion of the ship making them lightly bump against each other. Ye Gods! I'd never have imagined myself being here! - he thought, before saying, "It's no good. Where's that dagger?"
Their hands touched as she handed it to him and he gently nicked the cord, running his fingers between the laces along her spine slackening them off. Sparking a feeling throughout him. She thanked him and went behind the curtain, taking a fresh shift with her.
From where he sat he could see her long arms stretch up above the line of the cape as she went about washing herself and he allowed himself to muse upon the vision hidden from him. When she was done, she washed her thin shift and hung it up to dry. Finally reappearing, she had her silk dress back on but it hung loosely around her, its laces having been ruined. She smiled at him as they sat together at a small table to eat their breakfast, her perched upon the bed, him on a stool at the other side of the table. Their meal passed silently except for the knocks and rasps of the ship. Him more nervous than he had ever been in his life, suddenly aware of their closeness and confinement.
He finally broke the silence. "Did you get my gifts?" She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. "I'd asked the captain to supply a few things for you." He looked around the room and seeing a small wooden box with oranges resting upon a cloth he lifted the edge of the cloth and smiled. "For you." He murmured, as he passed the box to her.
"Oh Sandor. Thank you!" She'd exclaimed when she removed the oranges and lifted the piece of linen. Beneath it lay a small bottle of rose water scent, some perfumed soap, needles, a small pair of scissors and at least twenty shades of embroidery thread.
"It will be a long confinement." He grunted. His true name upon her lips had never sounded better. It was not a name he heard often, but from her lips it sounded more charming than it ever had.
CHAPTER 12 - Sansa
Sansa had been delighted by the gifts and immediately knew the image she wanted to portray in thread. Their days passed in peaceful routine, she stitching or reading her book. Him working upon his armour. He laboured to remove Kingsguard emblems, forcing them off with the point of a blade. Scuffing off painted colours with a stone. It was not an easy task but with persistence and time, which he had aplenty, he managed to disguise its origins. She'd watch him caress his longsword nightly keeping it protected from the salt air with a light layer of oil.
Each night the boy would arrive at their cabin door to signal that it was safe for the Hound to go below to brush and tend to Stranger. She'd relish the private times this afforded her, as although she enjoyed his company she found she needed some time to herself.
When they were docked at Maidenpool the captain brought them word that there had been a fierce and fiery battle at Blackwater in their absence. With Tywin Lannister's army saving the city from sacking.
By the time they docked at Gulltown she'd had her 15th name day. The Hound had surprised her with a small lemon cake he'd had the captain procure when ashore.
She was delighted when the Hound had taught her dice as an alternate entertainment to her stitching. They'd spent an afternoon rumbling with laughter as she learned various games. Not a lady's pursuit, but Sansa no longer felt a lady. She was after all confined to a cabin with the Hound, hardly something a lady would allow.
He was watching her as he lazed on her bed one day, dust catching in the sunlight as it drifted through the air giving the room a mystical hue. In truth, she loved it when he spent time there, leaving behind his scent for her to breath in that night as she floated off to sleep. You would look sublime in my bed - she thought. Words he had written about her, but a sentiment she felt equally of him.
Fresh air filling the room from the open porthole, she sat on a stool contentedly stitching. "I still don't know what it is you stitch little bird." He'd said in his low gravelly voice.
She stood up and moved to him, sitting on the bed in front of him leaning back almost on to him to show him the image from over her shoulder. "See here," she pointed at the cloth with a smile on her lips, "these brown shades are to be a hound."
"And there, what's there?" He replied, touching a patch of many colours.
"A bird." She said with a satisfied grin, turning her head to face him. Her smile evaporated as she looked into his dark eyes and they sat suspended in time, before he leaned in and kissed her. It had been a chaste kiss. A pleasant one, and he had pulled away apologising after a moment, but she had reached up to the scarred side of his face and said, "No need." Then allowed him to kiss her again.
It had been a blissful afternoon of gentle kisses and delicate caresses of her waist and hips. The kisses had become more longing, stronger - and she had met the gentle probing of his tongue with hers. He started running his fingers through her long red hair, and when his boldness increased (or perhaps when he judged her boldness had increased), he gently trailed his finger along the length of her neck and collarbone before cautiously sliding it beneath the edge of her dress and allowing it to trace along her décolletage.
Strangely the sensation, although heating Sansa beyond anything she had experienced, was not most felt where his finger trailed but instead by a strong spontaneous pull between her legs. It was then they'd been disturbed by the cabin boy delivering their meals. They had both sat eating unable to stop smiling at one another, before he headed to the hold to deal with Stranger.
When he returned he had rolled out his bedroll, taking his place on the floor before leaning up and kissing her goodnight, and dropping back to the floor again. Aware of the depth of his passions, Sansa was glad he had taken his place on the floor but was excited at the prospect of more.
CHAPTER 13 - Hound
He'd had to relieve himself with an urgent tug in the hold leaning up against Stranger the night before. By the SEVEN! - The hour or so they'll spent kissing laying near to one another had been something outside of his experience. Whores don't have time for such delicacies - a quick fuck, sometimes a longer one was the norm. Drunken wenches weren't much different. He preferred to take them from behind to spare them his face. Sansa wasn't fazed by his face. Openly looking at him and touching his scars. He found it compelling.
He'd been even more aware of her close proximity as he stood naked taking his daily wash the next morning, blocking his mind in an effort not to harden.
Now she was behind the cape, starting her wash when she asked him for help washing her hair. Sensing his hesitation, she said, "It's alright. I have on my shift."
When he'd gone behind the curtain he saw her kneeling on the floor about to lean over the tub, unaware that the shift was affected by the light. He could clearly see the outline of her body. Initially he was trapped in its aura, but managed to turn his head away and reach for the water jug. "It's just a bit heavy." She said, "I'm fearful of tipping water all over the floor trying to manage on my own."
His first attempt at rinsing her hair failed miserably as he tried to keep his head turned away, before he'd resigned himself to look at what he was doing and poured a second jug.
She wrung her hair out in her hands and was saying "thank you" as she rose to her feet, only to look down upon herself and see her shift was now transparent in parts - most notably down her chest, clinging to the form of her breasts. Her head had tilted up to him and she caught him gazing upon the sight. Surprise on her face, she suddenly pulled the fabric from her body and nervously hunted a towel. He'd dropped the jug and bolted back behind the curtain to sit on the bed.
"Sorry little bird, I didn't mean to look." He said feeling ashamed. He'd seen her breasts before and more than once, but at those events she was being terrorized - it was far from a sexual sight (although he'd often enough mused upon them in privacy since). These breasts, that had so mesmerised him in this moment, were ones he had gently touched the afternoon before.
She appeared from behind the cape in a thick shift, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. He'd been shocked when she said, "It's alright Hound, I know you couldn't help it." As she leaned forward and gently placed a kiss upon his lips.
When she stood upright again he noticed her shiver, her wet hair dripping. He quickly reached for a blanket and, wrapping it around her in an embrace, said "You'll catch your death girl!"
Oh, that embrace felt like heaven itself. The young woman delicate and sweet smelling in his arms. He gently pulled her back towards the bed saying, "Come here and warm up." There was no stiffness in her body as he drew her closer, turning her body so her back lay against his chest, encasing her with his arms to warm her through.
She'd been surprising him for weeks now. Initially with her words, then with her looks and now allowing him to embrace her. He buried his face in her neck and gave her a soft kiss. After a while of laying together, he began to gently caress her hips and waist over the fabric of the blanket. He felt himself straining against the laces of his breeches and he was about to push her away (feeling that she'd become aware of the awkward bulge by suddenly stiffening in his arms) but then she did something that defied all logic, she relaxed and slowly, almost imperceptibly, pushed her bottom towards the bulge.
Oh, she was intoxicating - he took deep breaths and inhaled the scent of her. Feeling light and happy like he never had in his life. When she turned, lowering the blanket and allowed him to kiss her passionately he almost lost his wits.
CHAPTER 14 - Sansa
She was so enjoying his warm embrace. Words from the letter filtered through her mind - …. all I crave is to let you know the bliss you deserve. She'd initially been nervous when she'd felt his manhood hard and brushing against her rear, but the letter drove her forward. She relaxed into him. For a man of his size he was surprisingly gentle with his touch and she felt compelled to turn around and kiss him. It was rousing to have his masculine scent overpowering her nostrils and mouth. He tasted so good, and his hands seemed to know where to be. She wanted so badly to touch him, that she allowed herself to reach under his tunic and caress his belly.
His skin wasn't as delicate as her own, but was warm under her fingers. There was a trail of coarse hair leading down the centre of his belly. The muscles of his stomach were hard and defined. She heard a quiet groan as she lay her hands flat upon him, dissatisfied with the contact her fingertips had allowed. As she trailed her hands over his torso, snaking one hand around to his back exploring, his own hands had set upon an exploration.
She became aware of his finger lazing along the side of her neck like he had done the day before and took a deep breath in anticipation of it sliding beneath her shift. He didn't let her down, and gently traced the top of her breasts before allowing more fingers to make contact and sliding around to gently cup her breast. By now she was breathing so heavily she could no longer maintain a passionate kiss and her head tipped back, eyes shut she heard herself groan with pleasure as his finger gently grazed her nipple. She was now lying flat on the bed and he had propped himself up on one hip watching her in her pleasure.
"You're so beautiful little bird." He said, and she felt it. Every fibre of her felt it. He carried on, "But, I think we should stop now before we take it further than you intend." She felt the breath leak out of herself with disappointment.
She did not want to stop and found herself saying, "I want you to please me Hound. No, to pleasure me."
"Are you sure little bird?" He lowly asked.
"Never surer." She heard herself say.
At that he leaned forward and started gently sucking on her breast. She felt herself sink further into the mattress, and again felt that primal tug between her legs. She could feel his other hand gently slide under the lower edge of her shift, gathering it up towards her waist as he caressed the outside of her leg. She urgently had to press her legs together as his hand got higher, not in fear, just in need. When he slid his hand around to gently open and stroke the inside of her thighs she felt her breath hitch.
He was again propped up, admiring the view, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "You tell me to stop little bird. Whenever you need, just say stop."
She looked him in the eye and gently shook her head in response. The palm of his hand was now on her belly and she felt as if a fire burned at her core. "Is this what it's like to find your pleasure?" She asked.
He smiled, shaking his head and purred, "It's only the beginning".
Her head was exploding. She felt so dizzy, not only at the prospect of there being more but at the lightness in her body. It seemed other worldly. Her nipples had long since hardened and she felt like her breasts may explode with every touch of them. She was overwhelmed with pleasure, so much so that she felt she may faint. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it again and said, "I need a rest. It's all so new, I need to slow down."
CHAPTER 15 - Hound
By rights he should have been disappointed when she asked for a break, but he felt bemused by her visible pleasure and confident it would not be the last time she would allow his hands freedom to roam her. He quickly smiled and said with a small unhindered laugh in his voice, "That's fine little bird." He flopped back on the mattress with a broad grin, breathing deeply himself. Truth be told he needed a break too. His cock was painfully constricted in his breeches and it needed to soften some to make him comfortable again.
He turned his eyes back towards her to see her sitting upright, one arm beside herself taking her weight, her breast freely bared with shift off one shoulder, rosy nipple still budded in pleasure, her hem pushed up revealing her long pale legs and just a tantalising hint of red and golden curls.
He smiled broadly at her. She struggled to meet his gaze as she spoke. "I was just wondering, if - if, you would remove your tunic?" He didn't need her to ask twice. Leaning forward without words and reaching over his head behind himself to grab the neck of his tunic pulling it up and off in a fluid movement, tossing it aside, he flopped back on the bed to try and meet her eye. She seemed transfixed by his chest. She was wide-eyed as he watched her allow her hand to be drawn to it.
He took a deep slow breath as she ever-so-slowly slid her hand over his chest and belly, using the back of her fingers to brush along the side of his torso. A break to go soft was a waste of time, he thought as he winced slightly with the pain of his erection, before letting out a small groan in satisfaction of her touch. She shifted her position to kneel, freeing her other hand to gain access as well.
She smiled deeply when she finely met his eye, and slowly turned her eyes back to her task, sweeping her palms in the direction of his hair growth and stopping to inspect old scars, lightly trailing them with a finger. Her fascination was palpable. When she reached his arm and gently squeezed it, he quickly took the opportunity to show off, bending it and popping his bicep. She galed with laughter, jumping back from him slightly before shuffling forward to venture a gentle prod and laughing again.
Letting out a small involuntary yawn, she positioned herself with her head on his shoulder and snuggling into his side, arm draped across his chest and absently rolling its hair between her fingers. "This is more fun than dice." She said.
"That it is little bird, that it is." Was his gravelly reply. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to drift, the gentle rocking of the ship beneath them soon lulling them to sleep.
They woke when the boy knocked to deliver their lunch. The Hound rolling over her but taking all his own weight, he leaned down to lightly kiss her before heading to the door. She made no effort to dress properly, happily relaxing in her shift and shawl whilst they ate. He took her lead leaving his top off. She seemed to enjoy watching him. When the boy had come back half an hour later for their plates, the Hound took one look at her and suggested they go back to bed.
They spent the afternoon in gentle exploration, kissing and dozing in each other's arms. After their evening meal, he headed down below in the dark to feed, water and brush Stranger. He didn't linger, keen to get back to her company.
When he returned he picked up his bedroll and asked, "Would you like me to sleep on the floor?"
"No." Was her immediate reply.
CHAPTER 16 - Sansa
She was nervous as she climbed into bed beside him. He held the covers up for her to slide underneath, turning her so that her back was against his front. For all they had happily explored each other again in the afternoon, he hadn't pushed her past her initial limits and she was unsure whether the darkness would embolden her.
Initially, he had just held her allowing her to feel the gentle comfort and strength of his embrace, but after a time she felt him reach for her hem and allow his hands to glide over her feet. She giggled at the tickling sensation and pressed her thighs together. She could feel his hot breath next to her ear as he began to nuzzle her neck. It sent a tingling down her spine. The hand that had been tickling her feet was now on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly before slowly sliding forward under the loose opening of her shift, gently cupping her breast and taking her already stiff nipple between his forefinger and thumb; gently squeezing in a rolling motion.
It sent a lightning bolt through her core, landing somewhere between her legs. Again, she felt compelled to squeeze her thighs together. He then reached across to give her other breast the same attention and she was glad of it; it had been crying out with neglect. She felt his hand return to her feet slowly roaming up the length of her legs, pushing her shift up with it as he went. It was then she felt his hand brush over her mound as it made its way to her belly to linger there, making playful circular motions.
She turned herself around and he rolled on to his back as she lay half across his body to kiss him. The kiss was long and deep and he reached his right arm around her to pull her squarely on top of himself to lay facing him. He was shirtless. She was startlingly aware of his scent, his warm hard broad body beneath her, and his manhood beneath his loosened laces.
When he slid his hands up the back of her thighs and gently but firmly squeezed the cheeks of her behind she became aware of a warm dampness between her legs. Her shift was suddenly feeling a hindrance, so she moved her body helpfully when he drew it up her body, sliding her arms out as he lifted it over her head. She was propped up resting on her forearms directly on top of him, as naked as her name day and he gave her a big smile before he suddenly grabbed her waist and flipped her over to be laying on her back but still on top of him, her head resting upon his shoulder.
With her shift gone the position gave him full access to explore her body. Starting at her knees he ran his palms along the top of her thighs allowing his fingers to trace along the inside of her thighs, glancing over her mound, he smoothly and slowly ran them over her belly, crossing his hands over themselves as he reach her ribs and breasts. "You feel wonderful little bird." He murmured as she tipped her head towards his face smiling as she breathed him in. The heat rising from his body was adding to her own and she felt at peace in his strong embrace.
One of his hands slid back down her body and gently pulled her legs apart, one-foot landing on the mattress beside his calf. His hand again started at her knee but this time lead a trail further over her inner thigh. She could feel an excitement build as his fingers slowly grazed up her limb and gently brushed over the folds where her legs met. Making her hold her breath briefly. She could feel him breathing more deeply now, forcing short pants of hot air across her cheek, shoulder and breast as his hand lingered on her mound gently tugging at its hair.
She needed no encouragement to part her legs further, when his hand slid back between her legs, she willingly dropped the other leg open. He elongated and parted his fingers before gently closing them again trapping the folds of her skin between them, squeezing lightly and drawing them slightly towards her, as the hand that was cupping her breast squeezed in unison. She let out an involuntary groan and arched her back, forcing her shoulders down into him.
"Are you alright little bird?" He rumbled.
"Yes." She said, "Yes."
He released the pressure on her folds and slowly dragged his fingers up and down the length of them, more pressure this time but still lightly. He ran two fingers down between the folds, leaving his thumb where it naturally lay before gently squeezing her again, this time between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the flesh slightly, and moving to the other side to repeat the motion. Her hips tilted on impulse grinding into his rock-hard shaft, all the while he continued to work on her breast and nipple squeezing and tugging it with more insistence.
Now he allowed his fingers to explore more deeply into the folds, and she became aware of them becoming wet and sliding more silkily around. The sensation was powerful. He continued to massage her folds and she let out a small squeal as her hips rolled back more powerfully.
"Still alright little bird?" He asked.
"Yes!" She replied, as his fingers dawdled and he found that nervous nub he had written of; gently rolling his thumb over it in minute circles, as two long broad fingers continued to slide and drag between her folds more deeply. Her breaths were becoming shallower - she was panting, the natural rocking of her hips more urgent.
He stopped. "Still little bird?"
"Still." She replied, and he started to roll and stroke in even rhythmic movements again. He again reached a point where she let out an involuntary groan, but this time he didn't allow it to break his rhythm. The urgent sensation within her continuing to build, gathering force, her breath catching in her chest. She pushed her head backwards hard into his shoulder as her body stiffened, her heels pushing hard into the mattress and she let out a sound she didn't recognise when the force fully hit. It travelled throughout her body in waves. She could visualise it white hot in her mind and she yet again found herself pressing her legs together, trapping his hand where it lay.
Once she released him, his hands gently slid around her body and she felt tiny sparks of that power travel throughout her. When the force had finally rolled over her and left her in a peaceful state, she turned to face him and saw a smug satisfied grin.
CHAPTER 17 - Hound
OH, SEVEN she was beautiful in her release. He'd gently tortured her smooth skin and he had loved it. Once she had lay still for a while he slid her on to the mattress, rolling himself over her, easing his knees between hers, arms either side of her holding his own weight to kiss her – oh, what a kiss. It was deeper and stronger than they'd had to date, his tongue urgently and deeply probing hers. She reached her hand up to the scarred side of his face, her fingers gripping his face more powerfully than they ever had. He found himself grinding his cock into her mound and she was moaning so deliciously.
He broke their kiss to trail kisses down her neck, before his tongue instinctively took over the task. Reaching her breast, the perfect bud of a nipple was fodder for his tongue to flick and suck so deliciously. Moving his mouth across to her other breast, he suckled upon it urgently, her body twisting and arching beneath him.
Pushing himself backwards, he allowed his tongue to glide down the centre of her torso before firmly kissing her curly mound, letting out a low rumbling groan as he did so. He gave that enticing hill a large but light bite. Sending her into a fit of giggles. A smile breaking across his face, he sat back on his heels, reached firmly under her hips to grasp at her cheeks and pull her cunt closer to his face. The smell was so sweet, so purely feminine sex, his grin was broad as he had ever known it to be when he planted his face into it.
His body burned as he kissed her there and he let his tongue travel between the folds. Oh, what sweetness! She was wriggling her hips with thrill and as he gently sucked her nub she squealed. FUCK he was happy. He continued to lick and gently suck at her folds before exploring more deeply with his tongue and when he slipped it inside her core she damn near screamed in delight. He probed her and licked her until he felt she could take no more, releasing her hips down on to his knees. He put his hand to his face to broadly sweep her juices into his mouth, smiling like he'd never know looking at her spent on the bed beneath him.
He reached one leg out to the floor and with a low voice said, "I'm sorry little bird, but I need to take myself in hand."
Standing and moving behind the cape, his back to the bed. She'd giggled when he said it, and was still lightly laughing when he took his painfully stiff cock in his hand and began to stroke. After a few strokes, he became aware of her presence standing behind him. He casually turned his body slightly to afford her a partial view. She gasped in shock. Not sure if it was a good gasp or bad, he turned away again and closed his eyes continuing his motion.
It was then he felt her nipples graze his back and her hand reach around to lay on top of the hand that was stroking. He let her feel his rhythm before sliding his hand out from beneath hers. GODS little bird upon his cock! His head tipped backwards and he groaned. She spent some moments allowing her fingers to delicately explore the length of him before intoxicatingly running a finger around and over his knob, using his arousal drop to slide smoothly over it.
"It won't take long little bird" he said as she firmly grasped him and began to stroke in the rhythm she had felt. After some strokes, he grunted "faster" and the blessed being did. He felt his balls clench and she milked the violent surges of fluid from him. He let out a long breath.
"Happy?" She enquired.
"Very." He responded, as his shoulders dropped and he panted to regain his breath. He grabbed a towel to wipe his cum from its landing spots and turned to her allowing his cock to slowly deflate in her view. She was wide eyed but intrigued and he bent down and kissed her lovingly.
"Come on you." He said, slapping her bottom firmly and making her jump. "Back to bed with you." He allowed his breeches to fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He climbed over her to reach his preferred spot against the wall of the cabin. Pulling her back towards himself and nuzzling into her neck. "I think you should sleep little bird - you've had a busy day." He murmured. He felt her hand run over his embracing arm before she pulled his fingers towards her lips to kiss them and said, "Goodnight."
When they awoke the next morning, his cock was stiff against her back. She had turned to him and lifted the covers to take a peek, grinning as she did.
"Careful little bird. I think it is a day of embroidery for you today." He said.
"Why?" She questioned with a frown.
"Because it is a dangerous game you play." He said resolutely. "If you want your maidenhead intact when we arrive in White Harbour and ride out in search of your banner men, it is best not to spend our days indulging our flesh. I am happy - delighted, to service your needs on occasion little bird, but the more we play, the more your resolve will abandon you."
"Is it my resolve that concerns you, or your own?" She asked flatly.
"Yours little bird. Although, I would drown in the joy of your maidenhead, I would never take it without consent. People think me a dog, but I have control of myself." He said with a resigned half smile.
She ran her hands over the hairs of his chest and said, "But what if I will it?"
"If you did, I would count myself the luckiest man. I already do. Look at you in my arms?" He took a moment to admire her before continuing, "It is a powerful asset for a lady, perhaps their only one. You are young little bird. It is not a decision to be taken on a whim."
"And if not on a whim?" She said.
He stared at her not knowing what to say, before finally replying, "How long have you mused upon it then?" Boldly she replied, "Since days after receiving your letter."
"My letter!" He had all but forgotten it, so busy in planning her escape. "You read it then? Gods, what did I say in that letter? In truth, I was blazing drunk when I wrote it. I wasn't even sure I had." He rambled. "I put it down to a dream, but I found a quill and realised I must have." Screwing his face up in embarrassment he said, "I thought I perhaps wrote of your teats, and maybe things more unspeakable, but really I don't know. I woke in the courtyard, drunk as any other bastard would be in a gutter." (As he spoke he found his morning erection had abandon him in shame.)
She wriggled out of bed saying, "I have it still" and went to her purse, retrieving her book. She sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling folded parchment from between the pages and handing them to him.
He held the pages in his hands, mouth gaped open. It was a scrawling mess, and long - it was long. He immediately started reading, his skin burning in shame as he read. When he was finished he sat numb for a long while head bowed before looking to her, his eyes popping in his head, pages clutched with incredulity and said, "This – this, little bird, has given me access to your body? These words? I don't understand, I just don't understand. I am crude. I am disgusting." Finally adding a growled, "I am a hound!" He sat shaking his head before adding, "And you kept it?"
She replied earnestly, "It is not those words that gained you access. It is the man you are. The man you have been to me in the past. You have helped me in dire moments. Those words were read one thousand times. I knew you were very drunk from the outset. The crudeness loses its power very quickly. The dedication remains. The loyalty remains." Adding with a quick smile, "The lust remains. It made me feel I could trust you - and I was right. Look at where we are? Think of the conditions you took me from? Look at who you are away from that evil place?"
He could formulate no reply and simply looked at her.
CHAPTER 18 - Sansa
She wondered if she had made a mistake showing him the letter. In fact, she felt sure she had. It had been so blissful experiencing his touch and love, and now he seemed moody and was silent. There had been no words between them since she'd explained herself. When the boy knocked they had risen, quickly throwing on their clothes and gone about their usual morning routine.
It hurt her to know he was bathing behind the cape. Not wanting to be seen. It hurt even more when she bathed knowing he did not want to see her.
He seemed to have nothing to say to her and she worried. In the end, she took his advice to spend the day embroidering, making good progress whilst he tended to his armour and sword. As they ate their midday meal he seemed to thaw a little and she caught him looking at her, once more watching her. In the end, it had been her to break the silence. "Have I ruined everything?" She asked.
"No, little bird. Not you. I just needed to think about what you said. What I did. What I have done to you. I worry you have cast me as one of your bastard storybook knights. I am not worthy of that, and never have been." He said.
"You worry you have corrupted me?" She enquired.
"Yes." Came his solemn reply.
"Kings Landing corrupted me. Cersei and Joffrey corrupted me. Life corrupted me. You opened my eyes, or at least tried to from the beginning. I wanted you before the letter. Do you realise that? Not in the lustful way you described, but I had interest in a physical way, in an emotional way. I saw you. I saw beyond what others described. Do you think me a child?" Her face was almost angry now.
"No. It is just hard to believe - to be sure of. Look at me. Look at you." He said.
"I do look at you. I have looked at you and, even if you don't want me to, I will always look at you. I gave up on shiny knights a long time ago. I gave up on being a Queen a long time ago. I would much rather be your goddess." She smiled at him softly hoping he would understand.
"But your family?" He let his words hang before continuing, "We will not be alone in this room forever little bird. You are a Stark of Winterfell. A lady destined for a grand life, even if not a throne."
"Do you think any of that matters to me now? After what I have been through? I was raised to think of duty, to serve my house, to please a husband. No-one ever told me a husband, a man, could please me. Could look up to me. In your letter, you said I shouldn't care about my maidenhead. You were wrong. I do care. I care that it goes to someone worthy. I care that my heart goes to someone worthy. I care about me. I care about you." She finished, pleading in her eyes.
He nodded slowly but seemed unconvinced. "Give me some time little bird. There have been a lot of words spoken. More than I am used to hearing. More than I am used to saying."
"I have time." She said, stepping towards him and giving him a gentle kiss, before returning to her stool to carry on her work.
When he returned to the room after dealing with Stranger that night she was sitting in her shift and shawl on the edge of the bed. He picked up the bedroll and she looked at him. "Have you thought?" She asked.
"Yes." He replied. She gave the silence its weight. He spoke again, "I am happy to be at your feet little bird but if you willed it, after all you have said, I would be even happier to be in your bed. To be in your life little bird." He smiled at her.
"Good." She said, standing looking him in the eye as she removed her shift and got into bed.
CHAPTER 19 - Hound
It had been an emotional day. Something he wasn't used to dealing with. She'd seemed so earnest in her desire to be with him. He'd mulled over it all. Their past, their future. Where it could go wrong, why it should go wrong? Whether he should or whether he shouldn't? He kept coming back to the same thing; he wanted her and, against all conceivable odds, she wanted him. Not only that, she had wanted him in her own small way long before he'd been aware of it. He thought he had been giving a maiden a thrill, some experience to carry her on her way. He hadn't realised it was deeper for her. That it was real for them both and it was a big shift to make.
When he'd returned to their room after seeing to Stranger he'd felt apprehensive. Unsure that she wouldn't have reassessed things. When she invited him into her bed and was so sure in her stance he'd made short work of getting undressed, climbing over her to make his way to "his" side, stopping above her to give her a kiss. He'd enjoyed many of her kisses before but this one was new - the first knowing how she felt about him, and the warmth it gave him was beyond their previous kisses. He'd quickly hardened, apologising for prodding her in the stomach with it. She'd giggled and said, "My pleasure."
Things quickly became heated between them and she'd pushed him off her so she could admire him as he lay on his side. He knew his cock was good and strong. Never doubted it, the size he was as a man dictated it would be impressive. He'd never much cared whether it pleased anyone before, but as he lay on his side watching her look at him he felt a pang of concern that she wouldn't like it. That she'd prefer it different somehow.
He needn't have worried. Her hands wandered him freely and she seemed happy to venture a touch. The burn that spread through his body was significant. She mimicked his previous touch of her, running her hand from his knee along his thigh brushing past his cock to circle his belly. He closed his eyes. She repeated the motion. This time her hand running on the inside of his thigh. The skin was more tender there, less exposed to life. Gods! Let me live through tonight! Her hand brushed his balls and they clenched in excitement. He watched as she gently toyed with them, letting a small giggle pass her lips. She'd never looked more beautiful. Her head so close to his cock clearly trying to inspect the newness of it as thoroughly as she could. He closed his eyes again.
That's when she surprised him. She'd been full of surprises little bird. Her tongue was trailing up his shaft and she cautiously took his knob in her mouth. She hummed slightly in pleasure as she rolled her tongue around its head, and he thought she must be enjoying its flavour. He knew he was enjoying her soft wet mouth encasing him. She gently caressed the shaft with her fingertips and he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. She ventured a little more of him into her mouth and it was heaven. Not a blow job done for coin, but as good a first effort than any man could hope for given no instruction, and no hands pushing her.
He reached down and put his hands on her head, gently grasping a fist of hair, and encouraged her up to his face. They kissed some more, her breasts brushing against his chest, then he rolled her over on to her back and took his place between her legs. She smiled knowingly when he grasped her bum and drew her cunt towards his face. She was already wet as a slippery eel in her perfect place and he relished her juices, probing his tongue between her folds, sucking gently here and there, flicking his tongue to tickle her before plunging it into her core.
He was groaning, he couldn't help himself. When he lifted his head, and wiped her juices into his mouth he lowly said, "Ready little bird?"
She whispered, "Yes."
He lay her bottom back on the bed and leaned forward. The head of his cock resting against her entrance. "Are you sure?" He asked.
"Yes." She replied more audibly.
He held himself in hand as he gently pushed in. There wasn't a lot of resistance. She'd been more than wet for him, blood surging to her womanhood in preparation. He let go of his cock as he slowly pushed deeper. She let out a guttural groan as he filled her up. Her face peaceful as she revelled in her own pleasure. He smiled to himself and slowly pulled almost full out, before gently sliding himself in again. It was the best womanhood he had ever entered. So warm it matched the fire of his cock, so wet he slid with such ease, and tightly clenched about him. Most of all it was his - his alone.
He cautiously drew himself near out again, watching her face for signals of pain. She was managing very well. With a brief slight grimace washing over her face here and there. When that no longer became perceptible he increased his rhythm, leaning forward on one elbow his weight now pressing down on her as lightly as he could manage. Their faces were close so he kissed her, probing her mouth briefly but urgently with his tongue.
When he pulled back slightly again from her he could see her breasts bouncing with the rhythm he was creating. Her hips had started to roll and her back was arching. He stopped briefly to flip on to his back, surprising her by the change, but not uncoupling in the process. He grasped her hips helping her find a soothing roll as he continued small motions beneath her. When she had more than found her pace, and had revelled in it a while, he slid his hand to her breast and firmly grasped her nipple, squeezing it hard. She arched back in ecstasy, her hair trailing down her back and tickling the top of his legs.
He lifted her off himself. She was breathing heavily and fell forward on to her elbows. "Stay there, little bird." He murmured as he positioned himself behind her stroking and squeezing her arse, rolling his hand under her to pull her into position before gliding himself back inside her welcoming wet warmth. Giving some gentle thrusts feeling her depth, before changing tempo, increasing his urgency and power.
He could feel his peak surging towards him with each thrust, and resisted it inciting him to be too forceful in his plunge. He lifted her torso towards himself so he could gain access to her breast, squeezing her nipple forcefully again. She groaned in pleasure and he let her drop forward on to her hands. Squeezing her arse lovingly as he pulled himself out and shot hot cum over her back, rubbing his still hard manhood between her cheeks and massaging her now slippery back.
She collapsed face down on the bed seemingly spent, but he rolled her over pulling her womanhood back towards his face to tenderly kiss and lick her again. When he lay her hips back down upon the bed she was clearly in as much bliss as him, and he couldn't help but lean down and kiss her lips again, before dropping on to his side beside her to watch her slowly regain herself as he lovingly touched her belly.
When she finally found herself she had looked up at him with a smile. "I hope I didn't hurt you little bird." He said softly.
"No." She said, "No." As she slowly rolled her head side to side.
They lay not talking for quite a time, before he pulled the covers over them and drew her back to his chest, a hand again fingering her belly. "Are you alright." He asked.
"Yes." She said, "Perfect."
He kept his manhood from her for a few days after that, allowing any soreness to heal. She had protested but he wouldn't hear her complaints. That didn't stop him enjoying the taste of her, nor she him. He basked in her glow and wondered at his luck. Her embroidery developed and he could clearly see the hound taking form, a bird beneath it and between the two a depiction of paper, a quill and a solid red heart.
He wondered about writing her another letter. He had time after all. He could describe in great detail how he planned to fuck her harder and harder, leaving her barely time to eat or drink now her maidenhead had been crushed. How every inch of his cock yearned to be inside the warmth of her cunt, her wetness dripping about it, pounding her until his balls ached and he filled her to overflowing with his seed. How her mouth, although lovely was nowhere near as enticing as the thought of his cock disappearing down her long lovely throat as he looked down upon her. How her pink perfect folds begged to be clamped. Her nipples tortured too, and there was still the matter of her undoubtedly lovely little arsehole and the delights it held?
We'll see - he thought. Maybe he'd have the captain buy them several wineskins when next ashore, so he could find his true voice. His inner Hound. She'd like that, he thought.
