Disclaimer: No ownership, fanfic all the way!

Note: We enter chapter 2 with a little more intimacy. I guess this will be a 3 chapter type of story. Thanks for the comments and for the likes and follows...it's great to know that my naughty little thoughts can be shared ;-)


Sandor

"Fuck waiting for our little talk." Sandor grunted under his breath as he stripped his travel worn clothing from his body. It had been dark as he had been shown to his room in the castle, so he couldn't be sure exactly how much time had passed. All he knew was that it was far too much time for him, and he'd be damned if he took a cold bath because the Lady of the house was too busy to see him. He settled into the water, still warm enough that the steam rolled off of it and contemplated what he was actually going speak with Sansa about. He had ridden a long way, he had seen her, she was well….and that was as far as he had planned. He hadn't expected that she would actually give him an audience, much less that she would put him up in her home. A rough dismissal would have been enough.

'What a stupid love sick fuck I am.' he chided himself as he brought the soap to his skin. He hated the idea of being some lovesick puppy, fawning over a pretty girl. The last pretty girl he had fawned over had ended up in Gregor's hands, she hadn't lasted long after that. He let the water rush over him and wash away his terrible memories. Things were different now. He was man, no longer a lanky boy. She was a Stark, strong and surrounded by those who would lay down their lives to protect her.

He let his eyes scan the room by the light of the fireplace. It was a comfortable room in the northern style, functional, warm and welcoming. Nothing of the lavishness of southern palaces, this place was different. He could see now why Sansa both wanted the more beautiful things in life the capital had to offer, and could never quite fit in. Hers had been an upbringing for a Highborn that was closer to the people. Nothing she could do could wash her of that. In King's Landing she had so wanted to fit in, but it had taken her the loss of her father, captivity with the Lannisters and the Boltons for her to truly feel comfortable in her own skin. He had come to terms long ago with what he was and the things he had done. It had been a long road, but he was here, he was alive and he was fucking annoyed that he was still waiting on her.

He stretched his long arm outward toward the small stool where he had left his towel, only to find wood. Sandor felt around, leaning slowly out of the tub to touch the floor and found nothing. He rolled his eyes, "Oh fucking great!" He grumbled as he stood up.

"Are you looking for this Master Clegane?" came a recognizable lady's voice from the darkness behind him.

Sansa stood in the utter darkness just out of his line of sight, holding a towel out in her right hand, her eyes transfixed on his silhouetted form. He stood between her and the fireplace and the light danced around his muscular body, licked its edges and teased her eyes with the promise of seeing more. He was 6ft 6in tall, almost twice her breadth and all muscle. He had the body of a man who had earned it, lead a hard life and earned money with his sword. She fought the urge the bite her bottom lip as he took the towel from her hand, mumbled something that sounded like a 'Thanks' and stepped out of the tub.

She'd caught him totally off guard, not even assassins sent from Bravos to kill the little prick of a King Joffrey had been able to do that. He was swordless, unsuspecting and naked - he snorted at the thought as he tried to gain control of his wits.

The awkward silence between them had gone on long enough, "My apologies, I'm so busy with preparations for the long winter, that it gets more and more difficult to find a private moment. I trust this arrangement will work just fine."

"So this is what you do? Walk in on unsuspecting men while they're bathing? Doesn't get more private than that." He twisted slightly to see her reaction. Her black cloak was wrapped around her body, making it impossible to make out her shape. Only the pale white skin of her face, deep blue eyes and long red hair stood out against the black background. The slight smirk on her face and the hunger in her eyes gave Sandor the feeling of a wolf deciding how best to toy with its prey. He turned away from her again and began to dry his hair, attempting to make sense of what exactly was going on.

Sansa pressed on, as if his commentary had not even been heard, "Now what exactly is it that you wish to discuss with me."

He was totally off the mark, still reeling from her intrusion and a look he didn't think possible from the young timid girl he remembered. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "I want to be with you." Realizing that it perhaps didn't come out exactly as smoothly as he had wanted he stumbled through a continuation of his thought, "Um...here. I wanted to make sure…"

She cut him off before he had a chance to continue, "Are you asking to be my sworn shield? Guard my interests as well as my body from those who seek to harm them?" There was a headiness to her voice that she couldn't easily choke down. 'Did he just say he wants to stay here?' she mused to herself.

Sandor could hear her feet gently slide across the stone floor as she circled around his freshly dried body. She was inspecting him, looking over every inch of his body as she made her way in front of him, and it was all he could do to suppress his more animal nature. There were not enough decapitated heads in all the seven kingdoms to think of that could suppress the rush of blood down his body, and the tingling sensation a man gets from arousal.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was in absolute top form. Sansas eyes roamed his body openly, noting every scar and every curve of his muscles. Joffery had always made fun of his hairiness, putting even more emphasis on his notorious nickname. Sansa found his chest, broad, deep and covered in thick brown hair masculine, bold and extremely breathtaking. She took a quick look below his waist before joining her eyes with his. It was clear, even from her limited sexual experience, that Sandor Clegane was an impressive man in all senses.

The thought flashed through his mind, 'She wants me. Me?' It was by no means what he had expected and he had certainly not prepared for it. His wit was his only defense. He took a step toward the she-wolf, bridging the distance so that they almost touched, "Do you inspect all your guards this way?"

Their bodies were so close she could smell the freshness of the soap he had used, and the scent of his body that was unique to him. It was earthy, like an untouched forest on a fall day. It was spicy, enticing her to break the tension that had begun to build between them. Sansa raised on her toes so as to get close enough to his ear to whisper, "No." She rocked back on her heels and held his eyes with hers.

Sansa continued, "I will grant you your wish. I just so happens I am in need of somebody with your talents." She shifted uneasily. The next part was going to be difficult, though it was the reason she had sought him out in his chambers. Her stomach churned, "But this post is contingent on you accepting something from me, something I've been meaning to give you since I fled King's Landing."

Sandor studied her eyes for a moment, not knowing what she was thinking, but knowing she was torn. 'What in the seven hells is going on?' It was as if she was debating something, weighing something in her mind. Naturally his thoughts went to his face, perhaps she had gotten too close and lost her nerve or something. That's why his response to her came out gruff, "What could that be?"

Her heart beat at a pace that almost made her fall over. Sandor was such an intimidating man, not just physically but in his life experience as well. She began to have second thoughts about her original plan, fear that she might not live up to his standard of a woman. 'No,' she told herself, 'you've wanted to do this since you understood the sacrifices he had made you. It was all you could think about for the last couple years. I have to do it, I need to do it."

Doing her best not to break eye contact with him she replied, "I wanted to thank you for all that you did for me at the capital, and what you did for my sister on the King's Road." She gulped as his face turned a sneer. Sansa lifted her hand to the tie at the front of her cloak near the neck and pulled. Her cloak pooled in a soft mound at her feet, exposing her soft smooth naked body to the man in front of her.

He could have died a happy man right then and there. Sandor had often wondered what she would look like topless or with just a hint of her back showing through a particularly sheer gown. He had not tried too terribly hard to imagine her full naked body all at once, he didn't want to hunger for something he knew he couldn't have. Gods be damned, they had not gifted him with the capacity to imagine what stood before him. She was tall and shapely. Her white skin like milk with hardly a blemish. Sansa smelled like honeysuckle and it made him desperately want to know how she tasted. But no, there was something wrong here. He fought hard against his gut feeling. Good things didn't happen to the Hound. Beautiful highborn women didn't just take off their clothing for him, they spat on him, shied away from him, avoided eye contact at all costs. 'What the fuck is she playing at?' he raged to himself.

Without warning he grabbed her by the biceps, locking her body to his and brought his face down to her level. In a low growl he started, "You want to pity fuck me girl? Is that what this is?" She didn't flinch, much to his surprise. She acted like a woman who had often been grabbed that way, who had been abused. He instantly felt guilty.

Her hands flew reflexively to his chest, to brace herself. Calmly Sansa held his eyes in hers. He was intimidating, he was scary, but she knew she could handle it. "I don't want to pity fuck you." She said, not caring what words came out of her mouth. "All my life men have wanted me for my name, my land and my birth right. They have wanted to take from me, take everything I am. It was after I fled King's Landing that I realized I wanted to make love to a man that looked at me the way you did. Then slowly I realized that I actually wanted it to be you. That I wanted to show you I felt the same."

Sandor searched her eyes for some sort of lie, some sort of deception that would prove his long held belief, that no woman in her right mind would want him if he didn't pay her for it. But he could find no indication at all in Sansa's eyes. It was then that she leaned her head forward and kissed him. It was a soft sweet kiss, a kiss that he had been waiting for since he had first laid eyes on her in Winterfell all those years ago. It was a kiss that would make even the mightiest men crumble.