Blood and Fire
A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to George R. R. Martin. I have used some lines from "A Clash of Kings" this story takes place near the end of Clash of Kings/ Game of Thrones (HBO) Season 2 during the Battle of Blackwater and may contain spoilers. Might just be a one-shot of smut, or I might turn it into a series exploring what would happen between the Hound and Sansa.
Breaking into a run Sansa reached her bedchamber and thrust the door open, stepping into the pitch darkness and lifting the heavy bar across the door behind her. Her heart still hammering in her chest, she stood in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. Suddenly something stirred behind her and a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed her wrist. Even as Sansa opened her mouth to scream, she felt another large hand clamping down over her face, all the air rushed out of her. The fingers were rough and callused and she could feel they were sticky. They are sticky with blood, she thought her mind racing and panicking. The end had come sooner than she thought. Sansa thought of Lady and her brothers, Robb out there somewhere fighting and Arya wherever she was.
"Little bird I knew you'd come." The voice was a drunken rasp and she recognised it as the Hound.
Somewhat irrationally Sansa felt her chest heave a sigh of relief. He told her not to scream or he'd kill her and she believed him easily, but still she was not afraid. The grip of his large hands loosened and then released her. She gasped as air rushed into her lungs, but she didn't scream. In the dim light of the stars from her bedchamber window Sansa could make out the figure of the Hound, his scarred face blackened with blood and ash from fires from the battle.
He staggered closer to her and she caught the sickly smell of mead on his breath mingled with sweat and blood. The smell of battle as she would come to think of it later. That mingling of bodily fluids.
"I'm going away from here" the Hound said and then he laughed a sort of harsh coughing laugh that was devoid of mirth.
"I should take you with me little dove." He murmured.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" the Hound did not wait for a response.
Sansa still stood on the same spot, the Hound stood towering over her. Taller than her despite the slouch of weariness from battle. She felt his hands on her again. Very different than before. Reaching out to touch the lush cloth of her dress, one calloused hand placed on her waist the other at her shoulder. Sansa did not move, but she lowered her eyes towards the ground and that provoked him to laughter.
"Still afraid to look at me?" Sandor said, his grip tightening on her.
Still Sansa didn't struggle or try to escape his grasp.
"Come, you promised me a song" he said.
Frantically trying to breathe, her throat dry Sansa tried to think of a song, but her mind went blank with something akin to fear.
Speaking almost she thought, to himself, the Hound rasped "I could keep you safe".
His strong arms tugged her even closer, their bodies almost touching, she could feel the heat and sweat coming off him. Yanking her she felt he meant to kiss her and she closed her eyes, knowing that he was too strong and she could not refuse him. She waited for it to be over, holding her face calm and motionless.
"Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say.
Sansa's eyes opened, just as he tightened his grip on her and thrust her around shoving her down onto her bed. The bed clothes were rumbled and moist from where the Hound had been lying. How long had he been sleeping drunk in her bed? Sansa wondered. She did not fight him as he turned her onto her back and leant over her, his breath coming out haggard, she could taste the drink from his breath in the darkness as he unsheathed a dagger and held the cool blade against her throat. In the light of the moon she could see the blade glistening like a mirror, reflecting a harsh gleam in the Hound's eyes.
Unbidden the memory of the day at the gate came to Sansa's mind and her heart began to race, she felt her face flush. The dagger at her throat pressed gently against her skin, the metal felt cold against her hot skin.
"I could crush you little bird…you're so delicate" he said.
It seemed an eternity to Sansa lying there in the darkness with this mountain of a man lying atop her, her heart racing, hardly daring to breath staring into his hooded and gleaming eyes. His pupils were wide with drink and madness. Neither of them moved.
The words of Queen Cersei came to Sansa's mind "Tears are not a woman's only weapon. You've got another one between your legs, and you'd best learn to use it. You'll find men use their swords freely enough. Both kinds of swords." And yet still she could not move, even if she had wanted to.
Frantic desperate thoughts filled her young mind, thoughts that perhaps she would be spared, perhaps he would take her with him, and she would be free of the vile Joffrey. Such a fool she had been to once think Joffrey as beautiful. She had dreamed of a prince and being carried off on a horse and thought only of sweet and innocent kisses.
Sansa thought bitterly of her old childish fantasies of knights and romance. How different things had turned out. Now she lay in her darkened bed chamber that was her prison while her betrothed King Joffrey was outside and the battle raged. She could even smell the ash of fire burning out there wafting in through the window.
Her eyelids suddenly fluttered, her throat dry as the Hound pressed the knife harder against her pale throat, she felt a drop of blood spring and drip down, sliding down to beneath the folds of her dress between the small mounds of her breasts.
The Hound pressed himself harder against her, the full weight of his mountainous body almost crushing her thin frame. Sansa stayed still, this was nothing like she had ever imagined. In the recent weeks during her imprisonment after her father's execution she had found herself waking screaming and drenched in sweat after nightmares of Joffrey climbing atop her and laughing maniacally.
Yet still Sansa was not truly afraid, something about the Hound made her feel pity, and he had saved her that day. She had had nightmares for nights after that as well, their ugly toothless faces swirling around her morphing in the laughing pale face of Joffrey with his golden hair. Once the dream had changed and the Hound was there throwing aside the men that pawed at her gutting them open with his bare hands.
She felt one rough and calloused hand sliding over her body now. Breathing hard he released the dagger from her throat and brought the blade to press against her chest and he cut away the lush red fabric at her breasts. The fabric shredded with a distinct ripping sound in the quiet harsh against the faint distant sounds of cries and screams from the battle.
Putting the dagger aside on the soft mattress the Hound took the fabric of Sansa's dress in both hands, which was now opened in a slit revealing the cleavage between her breasts and ripped it open wider to her crotch exposing the soft white skin of her flat stomach. She gasped as he pulled her down the bed and lay fully astride her almost naked body. The dim light glowed softly off her pale Northern skin.
Sansa could feel moisture pooling between her legs. Sandor Clegane leant his head down towards her face, touching her golden fire hair, and this time he did kiss her. His mouth was hard and crushing against her soft rosy lips. His mouth tasted foul with the bitterness of blood and mead, but Sansa felt her body flushing and her mouth responding.
Her arms still lying by her sides she felt the Hound crushing eagerly against her body, her heart racing and her breathing shallow as he kissed all the breath out of her so long she felt she might be smothered. At last he broke away and chuckled softly.
"You're not so sweet as you appear little bird" he said.
Sansa gasped, her lips feeling raw and almost bruised. He leant forward again and kissed her hard on the mouth, this time she arched up against the bed, her arms reaching around to cling to his wide back.
The Hound reached one hand even as he kissed her sweet moist mouth to touch the soft and wet folds between her legs. Sansa gasped and her hips contracted where his rough fingers touched her even as he pushed his fingers inside her, the pain as he forced himself hard inside even as his body crushed her and his lips eagerly tasted her mouth, biting her lips.
Releasing her for a moment Sandor Clegane reached down to release himself of his trousers and then pressed himself against her soft body with renewed force. This time it was not his fingers that entered Sansa and she felt him thrusting hard inside her, his body pressing roughly against her.
He brought his mouth down from her lips, tasting the skin across her neck, his lips flickering out to lick the blood where the knife had nicked her skin, his tongue stroking further down to between her breasts, even as he was hard inside her he took one of her small breasts in his mouth. The Hound bit hard down on her nipple and sucked at her tit, her breast moist with sweat and saliva as he sucked at her as her chest heaved up and down as he thrust his cock deeper inside her.
Sansa gasped quietly, her breathing haggard. She felt her legs widen as the moisture pooled between them, her woman's blood mingling with the Hounds battle blood. She felt her hips thrusting upwards against his heavy body, she could feel her centre contracting around his manhood and she tried not to scream out in pleasure as she felt him push harder inside her and suddenly his breathing came out in a great heave and she felt him collapse against her. They lay still in the darkness, their bodies slick with sweat and blood, hot and gasping for air. The sound of battle cries could still be heard as they lay in the moonlight on Sansa's bed.