The air overflowed with the honey sweetness of her scent.

Long had he waited for her. Kept careful distance. All eyes were upon this Stark girl, at first admiring but soon souring, descending into cruelty and jeering. Long had she suffered, with no man to intervene. No knight. No high lord. Only those in disgrace had ever shown humanity.

At first she would avert her eyes, look at him when she had to without seeing him. He wanted her to see him. She would always look away.

And long had he waited for her. Days and nights, summer fading into autumn. Autumn lost its hold to winter. He kept her in his mind, in his regrets. He had been cruel to her, said things when the wine fuzzed his mind, making him stumble over his words.

Once he too could recite the most gallant stories of knights. No one need know that. But everyone preferred the bawdier songs that allowed for easy laughter. There was no laughter, no love, no gallantry as he silently dug his graves.

Her warmth lingered over him even as sleet fell from skies overhead and the sea pummeled the isle. Shovels broke from the force he used to attack the icy earth. Sometimes he would rage and hurl the broken wood and metal into the sea, challenging the gods to send a great wave to sweep him away and drown him.

Where is my peace?

And days came and went in this sad way.

Until.

Until the stars re-emerged and the light came back in his life. And there she stood before his eyes, not a dream but better. Rosy flesh that responded to his touch. And he touched everywhere. His coarse hands grazing against her skin, painfully soft. He had never handled anything quite so fine... or so good. He pushed her skirts up high exposing even her belly, and drew her small clothes down. He rubbed his face against the warm, secret skin of her pale thighs again and again.

Without an iota of hesitation in her movement, Sansa leaned up onto her arms and watched as he tasted the honey on her. Her mouth fell open. A sheen of sweet on her forehead was telling, the ruddiness of her cheeks as she flushed made him want her all the more. The way the strong muscles in her legs tightened against his shoulders as he touched her, made his cock ache terribly, igniting a need threatening to take him alive.

But no. There would be enough time for those other things. And Sandor spread her lips open with his own mouth, kissing her there. More honey on his tongue. She cooed and gasped, breath catching and ragged in her throat as her heels bumped along his back when he drew her in closer. He listened to each little sigh, felt her response as she twitched and writhed ever so slightly. He teased her swollen motte and the delicate petals that surrounded; handling her tenderly so as not bruise her petals. Tiny caresses of his lips worked on her, still firm enough to coax out another low wail. Her voice had now gone husky.

But she did not break her heavily lidded eyes away from his. Her red hair was soft under his fingers, and the honey on his lips was sweet. Sansa trembled, quivering before him and even her stomach went taunt. Afterward Sansa surprised him as she softly sang,

"She kicked and wailed,

The maid so fair,

But he licked the honey,

From her hair!

Her hair! Her hair!

He licked the honey,

From her hair."

Sandor could only laugh, and what a joy is was. Nothing could be sweeter than now, this moment. Not even the love at his lips.

Aug.11.13 Update: Initially going to leave this as a one shot. Considering turning this into a purely intimate series. Yay or nay?