A/N: I do not own Game of Thrones, ASoIaF, or these characters. I don't claim to own them.
In this Story, Sansa is of consenting age. I imagine her to be around 19, more in the AN at the bottom.

Sandor Clegane was in a foul mood as he none too gently towed a bewildered Sansa Stark up the stairs of the small inn.
They'd been running for bloody months, and he was at his wits end, desperately in need of relief from...everything about the young woman he protected.
Her smiles and laughs drove him to heights deep inside that he'd not thought possible for such a scarred, old dog as himself. Her words and mannerisms both infuriated him and amused him; everything about her was endearing and pure and gods, so beautiful.

In short, Sandor Clegane was a man hopelessly in love.
He'd not taken any whores since he had rescued her from Baelish's foul schemes; not that any would have him anyway. He found no relief in his own hands, just bitter longing for the beautiful redheaded girl, and anger at his own weaknesses.
It was his anger that drove him now to drag her bewildered form up behind him, into the small room he'd been able to rent for them.
He reached the room and shoved the door open, and none too gently herded the little bird inside, forcing her towards the bed.

"Sit." He commanded as he glared at her.
"Sandor, what has come over you?" Sansa asked, both confused and angry at her treatment.
"I said sit, damn you!" He growled as he advanced towards her.
Sansa sat on the bed meekly, but defiance shone in her blue eyes as she met his stare.
"What, pray tell, has angered you, ser?" She asked stiffly, not breaking his gaze.
"Fuck," he swore, "what else, little bird, what else. You, that's fucking what. Swanning about like some fucking bitch in heat; had the whole room staring at you. What's a dog to do, hmm? Can't protect you when you're fucking daft like that. Or maybe you want the whole of the inn to line up and take you in turns, might be you don't want my protection from the dangers of the world."

The words came tumbling out like poison, and he wished he could've kept them inside, he knew it would hurt her , it something inside ached when he'd noticed the eyes of others on her, and she didn't seem to care. So the Hound returned, all vitriol and snarls, ready to bite the hand of his mistress, if only to alleviate the terrible ache he felt in his chest.
Sansa looked hurt, angry and shocked at Sandor's words, but like the lady she was, she replied with no ill words, but instead folded her hands in her lap demurely, her back going ramrod straight.
"Ser," she said coldly, " your words are unnecessary. I did no swanning as you suggest: merely carried myself as I was raised. Do not forget my station, and so not forget yours. Such language is improper for a lady's ears."

Sandor barked a cold laugh. " forget my station, little bird? Nay, I've not forgotten it. You're Sansa fucking Stark, and I'm just a lowly old dog, begging at your skirts for scraps. But you see, when a dog sees danger, he bares his teeth. Mayhap my lady forget that men have needs, and if you tempt them, they will bite worse than a dog ever could."
Sansa's head shot up. " is that what this is about?" She hissed. " the needs of men?"
"No. It's your foolishness in forgetting that men will tear you apart should you let your guard down. And yours has been down enough tonight. I can only protect you from so much, Sansa."
Sandor felt tired suddenly. And he longed for wine and sleep. And her.
She was smart. Too smart to fool. "You're jealous," She spat.
"and what if I am?" He cried, anger rising again. "The attentions of the most lovely woman on earth wasted on commonfolk while your faithful dog," he spat the word, "is ignored!"

Again, the words fell from his lips unchecked. As soon as they were out he closed his eyes, wishing to take them back. She couldn't know, he had kept his secret for so long…
"Sandor," Sansa said in a soft voice
Sandor reeled mentally, trying to think of anything that would diffuse the situation, to make her forget his slip of the tongue.
Why not just bloody out yourself to the entire inn as well you idiot, he thought as he clenched his fists, trying to think of something, anything.
He opened his eyes, and she was there, staring at him with a stare so penetrating, so kind and pure, so her, and he knew he was lost.
"Fuck," he growled as he reached out for her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her roughly to him, sealing his lips upon hers in a searing kiss.

His arms twined around her waist, pulling her in closer as he kissed her soft lips. Gods, it was everything he had wanted and dreamed of, it was her, in his arms. One hand tangled in her soft red hair, pulling her head slightly back as he worked his tongue to her lips, touching her there softly, waiting for her response.
A response which she eagerly gave, just as she had eagerly returned his kiss once she had recovered from her initial shock.

Sansa opened her mouth to him, feeling his warm, wet tongue enter her mouth, moaning into him as he pressed into her further, coaxing her to mimic his motions, shuddering in pleasure as they kissed passionately.
When Sandor broke away, gasping for air, Sansa was gasping for breath, watching him with hooded eyes, her lips red and swollen from his ministrations.
He groaned out loud as she touched her lips, the pale skin against red lips sending his mind to a place he wasn't going to go with her.
But as they stood panting, staring at each other with eyes clouded by want, Sandor realized that it wasn't out of the question now, not now that she had returned ha kiss so eagerly and fervently.
So he kissed her again, this time breaking away from her mouth the trail kisses across her angelic face.
Sansa giggled at the feel of his stubble against her cheek as he placed kisses here and there across her face, and squirmed in his grip, but gasped aloud as he responded to her movements by holding her waist tighter and pulling her closer to him, so close that she could feel…

Suddenly, Sansa was glad that Sandor was occupied elsewhere, so that he couldn't see her deep red blush as their bodies met; and was overcome by waves of heat as she realized what she was feeling.
Sandor did notice, however, her gasps and the way her breathing had sped up. Grinning against her skin wickedly, he once again twined a fist in that luscious red hair and tugged gently, exposing her neck to him. His eyes raked down the pale flesh, followed by curious fingers, rough and calloused, but so pleasing against the softness of her skin.
Sansa tried to hide her moan, but he was too close, too intelligent to ignore her mewls of building pleasure.
"Like that, do you?" He whispered in her ear before licking the shell of her ear, trailing down to bite and suck on her earlobe, which drew a louder moan from this perfect creature once more.

Sandor was in heaven as he felt his cock continue to harden and twitch with every bloody noise the little bird made. He needed more, more her. More of everything about her, her soft skin, her sighs, the beat of her kind, innocent heart, he needed to be one with her, to take her in his arms, pour his heart out to her, to look into her eyes and tell her the truth…
But Sandor Clegane is a man of few words, lesser still of eloquent expressions of emotions. So he showed her the o my way he could: with his body.
He trailed hot, wet kisses down her silky neck, opening his mouth and laving her skin with his tongue, nipping and biting at her until dark pink marks bloomed under his mouth.
Sansa loved the feeling of his mouth on her neck, and hot, tingly waves of pleasure had begun to wash over her body, from her neck to her fingertips she could feel it. Her hair stood on end and her heart raced at his touch, and she could feel herself growing more and more aroused, feel herself growing wet because of him, for him.

"Sandor," the moan was ripped from her as he reached down bodily and began to massage her breast, still kissing her neck, slowly backing her towards the bed.
She didn't stop him, but tried her best to reciprocate, squirming and rolling her hips against him, relishing the feel of his hard cock pressing into her through the fabrics of trousers and skirts. She ran her fingers through thinning black hair, raked her nails down his back and felt him shudder in pleasure at the feel of being touched.

The backs of her knees finally hit the bed as Sandor's kisses had reached her clothed breasts, his greedy hands massaging, grabbing, kneading at her, rubbing her nipples through the fabric of her bodice, feeling them harden at his touch. Sansa felt as if she would burst into flames, and wanted nothing more than for Sandor to never stop. Gods, she had wanted this for so long.

But stop he did, drawing away from her, stopping when she was at arms' length, and took in her red face, heaving chest, disheveled hair and mussed clothing.
"Little bird…" he trailed as he drew her close again, trying to meet her gaze.
"I can't lie to you anymore. But I can't go any further. Li-Sansa. I am a jealous dog. I'm only jealous because I...I want to protect you. But I also want to have you, and all to myself at that. I know I'm no knight from your bloody songs, and I'm not a fucking good man. But for you, I could be. So I'll go no further, my little bird. Because you deserve better."
Gods damn him, but he couldn't fight the choking up if tears in his throat as he spoke. But he has to protect her. Even from myself.

Sansa gently reached up and touched the scarred side of his face, her other hand braced gently on his broad, powerful chest. She caressed his burnt skin, looking i to his eyes, trying to think through the haze of arousal and emotions. She knew he was trying to turn her away, to give her an out, but she could find no reason to take it. Her heart had belonged to him far too long ago to back away now.
So she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his scarred cheek as gently as she could.
"Sandor," She murmured as she wrapped her arms around him, "I want this. I want you. I've longed for you for so many days. I wouldn't turn you away for all the knights and all the good men in the world. You are all I want, Sandor. I love you. I've loved you since I was a stupid girl in King's Landing."
His breath was short. Love. Tears slid from his eyes, unnoticed. She loves me.
He was staring dumbly at her, while she looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world.
"Fuck, little bird. I'm sorry for the things I said earlier. I was mad, hurt. I-please…" he couldn't find the words, and floundered.
"Bloody fine mess I'm in, a grown man who can't even speak. Sansa, fuck, I…" he leaned back from her, before setting his jaw determinedly and kissing her oh so gently on her cheek.

Sansa sighed in happiness and sat down on the bed, pulling his arms to bring him down to her level. He settled on his knees, in between her open knees, arms around her waist as he laid her back and began kissing her once more.
Her hands stroked anywhere on him they could find, his neck, hair, shoulders, chest. Everywhere she touched felt like fire to him, and he would make rumbling sounds deep in his chest, sounds of contentment and pleasure that sent jolts of arousal coursing through her body. He was kissing down her neck again, eliciting moans from Sansa, moans that turned into gasps as he ripped open her bodice to expose her perfect breasts.

Sandor was fascinated with how milky white and smooth she was, and his fascination soon turned to obsession as he gripped the laces of her thin bodice and ripped them open, needing to have her exposed before him, so that he might kiss and lick her until she begged under his lips.

He rolled her pink nipples in his fingers and watched, enthralled, as she arched under his touches, her eyes screwed shut in overwhelming pleasure, mouth open in a long, soundless moan that turned into a low, throaty "oh" as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, mimicking the treatment of Sanaa's neck; kissing and licking her breast until she bucked and squirmed under him, biting and sucking hard, all to bring her more pleasure. He was a slave to her moans and needed more.

Switching to the neglected breast, Sandor reached down and unlaced his breeches, pulling himself free from the restraining cloth, stroking his cock to the sound of Sansa fucking stark coming undone under his mouth. It filled him with pride, lust, and a feeling in his chest he refused to put words to.
"Sandor!" Sansa moaned out in her need as she shuddered under his lengthy ministrations. She was going insane at his touch and couldn't handle it anymore, she needed him. "Please!"
Sandor growled deep in his throat at her beseeching moans, knowing what she needed but determined to hear her ask for it. He was riding a high of lust, and was succumbing to the heady rush of pleasure as he stroked himself, letting it take control as he threw all restraint and caution to the wind.
"Please?" He growled against her skin.
"Please!" Came her breathless reply.
"Let me hear you say it, little bird," Sandor rasped out, sharp grey eyes watching the writhing beauty under him.
"Please, Sandor, I…" Sansa broke off once more as a moan was torn from her mouth as he pinched her nipple again, harder this time.
"Go on," He egged, kissing the valley in between her breasts and licking there slowly to encourage her.
"I-I need you. Inside!" Her voice reached a high keen as he thrust his hardness against her.

That was good enough for him.

One strong hand snaked under her skirts, pushing them aside and making way to her core, to touch and feel her wetness and heat.
As his hands explored her smooth calves and traveled up her thighs, stroking and caressing gently, Sansa lifted her torso off of the bed and began to run her hands all over his chest, leaving fiery paths across his covered skin. Gently, Sansa began to unbutton the tunic he wears, desperate for purchase against his bare skin, desperate to kiss and lick, to stroke his scarred skin, to assure herself this is real, and not a dream.
As her hands explore over his rapidly exposed chest and neck, Sandor's hands are busy elsewhere, having reached her soaked smallclothes and gently rubbing her through the fabric, heat coming off of her in waves. She moans into his shoulder as he rubs her, and rolls her hips against his, needy and wanton in her lust.
His shirt is shrugged off, and he helps her wiggle out of her undergarments, tossing them aside into an unknown corner of the room.
Hesitantly, Sandor touches her, as if asking permission, but needing none as she thrusts her hips forward to meet his fingers.

She's warm and wet and Sandor groans as he touches her, his arousal throbbing in need of her.
Sansa guides his hands to the perfect spot for her, and he watches, enraptured, as she shows him how to please her in the dim light. Eventually, his hands replace her own, trying to mimic her movements. He's rough and clumsy, but Sansa still finds sweetness and pleasure in his efforts, urging him, instructing him, biting her lip as he explores her most intimate areas.

Eventually, she lets him take over fully, letting him explore where he will, his fingers finding her soaked opening, pausing there for a second as she grips his shoulders and nods, smiling.
Sandor plunges his fingers inside of her, trying to be gentle with her, to show her he cares about her happiness and wellbeing.
It's uncomfortable at first, but Sansa bears the feeling of his fingers inside of her, clutching onto his shoulders, holding on as if her life depends on it.
"Relax," Sandor murmurs into the skin of her belly as he leans In to kiss her there. "Just relax, little bird."
She tries to, but for now, it's tough. He won't move yet, and for that Sansa is grateful, preferring to let her body get used to the intrusion first.
She feels her body heating up as she experimentally squeezes her muscles.
Sandor groans as he feels her tensing around him, trying to give her control, but feeling his own need to take her strongly.

Finally, Sansa begins to move slowly, the heat washing over her becoming too much, the need strong and sharp to move, to feel him touch her in the most intimate of ways.
Sandor begins to move his hand as well, encouraged by Sansa's heavy breathing and her tentatively bucking hips. He matches her pace, listening to her breathing become heavier as her pleasure mounts. Eventually, he speeds up, watching her ride his fingers, pure lust in his gaze. She's gorgeous to him: red hair fanned out like a halo, eyes closed, pale skin flushed in the most attractive of places, full pink lips open in a way that makes his cock twitch.
He slows his pace before pulling his fingers out, deeming her ready. One hand gently holds her chin steady, he wants her to watch him as he licks his fingers clean.

She does, enraptured by his brazen act of lust, blue eyes blown wide with her own desires as he meets her gaze. He bends to kiss her, and she can taste herself on his lips and blushes more, slightly shocked by his carelessness.
But deep inside, that carelessness arouses her, drives her to want to push him, see how he would react to a number of acts. She briefly thinks on how to seduce him in the future, as his tongue meets hers in another searing kiss.

Sandor must sense that her mind isn't fully with him as he grabs her hips roughly and grinds into her, causing Sansa to tear away from the kiss, head thrown back and s loud moan escaping from her ravished mouth in pure pleasure as Sandor continues to thrust against her; promises of acts to come.
She loves the feel of his hardness around her, and between her legs. It's as if he belongs there, and she never wants him to leave her side, instead she wants more of this: more of his hands and lips, and gods, even his cock; just the simple act driving her wild without him even entering her.

Sandor likes how responsive she's become to him, now moreso that he's rubbing his hardness 'tween her legs, hitting that spot in the apex of her thighs that just drives her wild. One hand is there, right above her clit, rubbing as he thrusts against her, driving her higher and higher along the peak of pleasure, the other hand hard and unyielding on her hip, kneading her skin every so often, keeping her close to him as he continues his delicious assault.

He continues to grind against her, his hand rubbing frantic circles on her clit, as if he desperate for her release. He leans down and captures her lips in a hot, unyielding kiss, his teeth biting at her lower lip, his tongue darting into her mouth; he's everywhere at once and Sansa can barely take it.

"Come for me," Sandor growls as he releases her lips, his grey eyes smouldering as he watches her, trying to capture her every move in his mind, engrain it in his memories forever and ever.
Sansa shakes her head, not ready just yet. "Sandor…" She moans as he rubs against her, his pace slowing as he calls his name. "Please, inside."
She's desperate and knows what she wants and fuck but it turns him on, his face breaking into a crooked smile as she tells him what she needs.

"You're sure." It's not a question, but Sandor needs to let her take control of this situation, needs her affirmation before he'll go any farther. When she nods her consent, he feels as if he could come then and there, but his iron will to keep going, to please Sansa is stronger than his other desires.

He's grinning as he watches her eyes slide lazily open, watching him as he lines himself up to her opening, his other hand still gripping her hip so hard Sansa is sure it'll bruise, but finding herself not minding, thinking that any marks he leaves upon her skin would be a blessing to her, a reminder of him, his passion, his claim to her now.

Sandor stops for a moments, trying to tell her something. "Sansa, I…" but he trails off as her legs grip his hips, and she wiggles hers, coaxing his tip slightly inside of her.
The heat and wetness is too much for Sandor, who groans loudly and in one swift motion of his hips, sheaths his hardness inside of her, making her cry out at the intrusion in both shock and in pleasure.

It doesn't hurt as badly as she thought it would, even though there is some pain, but if that was from Sandor's size or her inexperience, she doesn't know. He had spent so long taking his time unravelling her that she's sure it has something to do with it.
"Sansa," he growls above her, snapping her back into reality. He flexes his muscles, and she can feel him twitch inside of her and gasps at the movement. "Focus on me, little bird."
Sansa blushes, not knowing how he figured out that her mind was wandering, somewhat overwhelmed from her first experience, but as he begins to slowly grind his hips, she finds that it's all she can focus on.
Heat washes over her, and she shudders, her inner muscles constricting around Sandor, who moans and begins to thrust against her in earnest, one hand snaking down to rub against her clit once more.

Sandor is in heaven. She's wet, so wet, and hot and tight around him, her muscles shuddering around him, getting used to him, dragging him into her further, and he feels complete, like he never wants to be parted from her again. It's better than he expected, and no whore compares to his little bird, her hair a fiery mess beneath her head, blue eyes wide and glazed with pleasure, pale skin flushed and legs wrapping around him. All he can focus on in this moment is her, and how beautiful she is, and how much he adores her.

He continues to rub her as he thrusts in and out, making Sansa feel as if she's going to die of the heat her body is producing. She's so hot, so overwhelmed, and all she can feel inside her, around her, is him. Her body is awash with pleasure, her mind on it's way to going blank as he touches her, both inside and out. She can feel herself close in on her release again, every powerful thrust of his hips bringing her closer, every moan and breath she takes searing her lungs with the most divine of heat.
Sandor sees her eyes slide closed, and smiles to himself, knowing how close she must be, and pride makes his heart swell: he's proud to make this beautiful creature his, proud to make her come undone, proud that she has chosen him, above all other men in the Seven Kingdoms.
Grinning wolfishly, he leans down over her, the angle driving him deeper inside of her, and bites down gently on her breast, feeling her body jolt in the shock and pleasure of his actions.
It's enough to drive Sansa over the edge, and with a loud cry of his name, she's gone, coming with an intense force that leaves her breathless, and leaves him moaning above her as her inner muscles spasm around him, making them both feel absolutely divine.

She's still spasming as Sandor leans back up and grabs her legs, hoisting them over his shoulders as her pounds roughly into her, his own release so, so close with the completion of hers still fresh in his mind, the aftershocks still coursing through her, squeezing him in the most perfect of ways, her heat almost too much to bear.
"Sandor," Sansa cooes, her hands reaching up to stroke his face, her blue eyes boring into his as he meets her gaze, panting with exertion and need. "Come for me" she murmurs as she trails her hands down his torso, unsure of what else to do.
He closes his eyes once more, focusing on the feel of her, loving every movement and second of this, but needing something else to push him over.
"I love you," The words are soft against his ears, but full of meaning and feeling.

It's enough to push him over the edge, his eyes opening wide and a growl on his lips as he comes, barely remembering to pull out of her in time before spilling over her stomach. He can feel her eyes all over him, watching as he comes, taking in his face, and his cock as he shudders and moans his own release.
Sansa is fascinated by his reaction, how his body moves as he comes. It's beautiful to her, and she's filled with warmth once more, but this time, it's a warmth that comes from deep in her heart, the warmth of love for this broken, beautiful man above her.
He gasps and collapses on top of her, panting, before remembering himself and rolling off to the side, so he doesn't crush her.
Sansa hums happily, curling up next to him as he pants, eyes closed and one arm snaking around her to hold her close to his side.

They lay like this for some time before Sandor pulls her onto his chest, holding her and stroking her hair, pulling the thin blanket on the bed over them both, pausing to use one corner to wipe up the mess on her stomach.
Sansa frowns. "I didn't mind," She says, laying her hand on his stomach.
"Aye, but it's better this way, little bird." Sandor replies quietly. "A woman of your status deserves better than to be covered in the mess of a lowly dog."
Sansa props herself up on one elbow. "Sandor, please." She says, softly but firmly. "I love you. I don't care about your station, or what I deserve. I just want to belong to you, only you."
He opens his eyes, looking square at her. He knows he shouldn't, but it spills out anyway.
"I love you."
It's barely a whisper, but she hears it, tears springing into her eyes.
"I'm sorry for earlier, little bird. It's not right to treat you that way. Forgive me." He strokes her face.
"I already have," Sansa murmurs, tracing his lips with a soft fingertip.
"You shouldn't belong to anyone but you, as well. You're no thing to be owned by me. If anything, I should belong to you." He kisses her fingertip before taking her hand in his larger, callused one.
"We belong to each other, Sandor. If you would have it." Tears flow freely now, but he'll have none of them.
"Don't cry, little bird." He sits up, gathering her in his arms.
"I'm happy," It's a simple phrase, but one that makes his heart swell with happiness as well.
"I am too." He whispers as he leans down to kiss her once more.

Eventually, after hours of talking amongst themselves like young lovers, after the tears of happiness and expressions of devotion and love for one another, they fall asleep in each other's arms, content and safe. Ready to face a new day, side by side.

-Fin-

A/N:

Oh my goodness. First time I've published something like this. I hope the quality was ok, as well as the perspectives. I tried not to get too incoherent with it, and tried to remain realistic but still engaging and sexy. I'm not one for the whole 'the heavens opened up and there was no better sex to be found' type, but at the same time, I wanted to convey years of UST finally come to a head, how it would maybe feel for two people to confess their love as they hit this brick wall of sexual tension that has to be resolved.

Forgive the format. Uploading it really screwed stuff up so I had to try to re-format everything right before uploading this. Yeesh.

In this story, Sansa is 19, and Sandor rescues her after being with Baelish for some time. I imagine that the events of the show and books take place over a much longer timeline, so therefore Sansa is older than she would be in canon media. Sandor rescues Sansa sometime before she is married off to Ramsay.

I hope all is up to par, comments and constructive criticisms are welcome and loved.
You can find me on attackoftheplotbunnies dot tumblr dot com.

Thanks for reading :)