Hi to all the readers!
Here's a new chapter for this story. A big thank you to Kimberlite8 for helping me with this once more in spite of her hectic RL! :D
The parts they were crossing were still as desolate as those they had travelled through for the last week or so but it fitted Sansa's frame of mind perfectly. The Riverlands were a wreck but she was in no mood to see beautiful things and wasn't sure she could even have noticed them anyway.
Both she and the Hound were riding side by side, her on her gentle chestnut mare and he, on his fierce dark stallion. That horse had scared her from the very first time she laid eyes on him: he was so fearsome and unpredictable, much like his master. She had always known it but never so much as now.
"The days are getting colder," Sandor Clegane suddenly broke the silence with his hoarse voice.
They were indeed. While the sky was blue, it was paler than it had been when they left King's Landing and the air was crisp, even more than on the coldest northern days Sansa remembered from her childhood.
"We better make camp soon. If we don't want to freeze tonight, we'll need to gather a lot of firewood."
It was still early in the afternoon but Sansa could see the sense in the Hound's words and so when the man glanced her way, she nodded.
"Right. Let's go then," he said, turning his stallion around to leave the deserted road.
Sansa followed in his path, staying a few yards behind and keeping her eyes on the ground for fear that her mare would trip over some unseen rock or root and break a leg. After a few moments of slowly riding between the leafless trees, they found a small clearing with a creek nearby and halted there. Once they had both dismounted, taken the saddles from their mounts and brushed their pelt, the Hound turned to Sansa and lowered his gaze on her.
"I'll chop some firewood. In the meantime, why don't you gather some tinder for us? You can do that, can you?"
"Of course," the girl replied softly, barely managing to meet his eyes. She had always been daunted by the Hound and found it hard to look directly at his face – hideous scars and wrathful stare alike – but with yesterday's events, it was even more difficult for her.
He didn't comment on that, thankfully. "Go on then."
Without delay, Sansa entered the forest and began searching the ground. It was easy for her to travel through the woods and find what she was looking for with autumn having stripped the trees from their leaves. She did have to push the dead leaves from the ground to see what was laying underneath but at least, there was no way she lost sight of their camp and the thought was reassuring. She feared most of all to get lost and find herself alone in the unknown.
In the unknown, Sansa thought while letting out a nervous little laugh. That was exactly how she felt since yesterday and he had… he had…
A big piece of dry wood was just at Sansa's feet and she gathered it in her arms with the others. Perhaps it was because of the strong winds that had lately blown over the Riverlands but finding tinder had proved no challenge today. Her arms were already full and so, she turned around and strolled in their camp's direction.
From afar, Sansa could see the Hound chopping a large trunk he had found apparently not far from the clearing and she used his tall shape as a reference to find her way back. Keeping her eyes demurely lowered, she walked toward him, the rhythmic sound of the dead tree being cleaved to pieces echoing in the empty and seemingly endless forest around her and getting louder with each new step she took. Every now and then, Sansa glanced up to make sure she was still heading in the right direction and as she got closer, she finally noticed how agitated Sandor Clegane seemed. She raised her gaze completely to truly look at him.
The man had removed his tunic, coat of mail shirt and cloak despite the coldness of the air and was using that large and scary-looking battle axe she had seen him carry around ever since they had left the capital. With far more strength than was strictly necessary, he was repetitively hitting the trunk with the weapon and pitilessly cutting its wood to pulp, his face twisted in an ugly and hateful mask of rage. The sight was totally frightening to Sansa and she slowed down in her progress, yet she found she couldn't take her eyes away from him. Sandor Clegane's hairy chest was glistening with sweat under the sunlight and his massive, sinewy muscles contracted with each of his movements in the most intimidating fashion possible. If he had wished to remind her of how strong and powerful he was and respectively, of how helpless and weak she was next to him, he could not have found a more convincing display.
With some sort of morbid fascination, Sansa's gaze kept on travelling over the Hound, from the terrible burns that disfigured half of his face so horrifically to his muscular torso, but when at about three yards from him it fell over the marks he had on his shoulders, she froze completely. While Sandor Clegane had many scars on his body, these were fresh and red and caught her eyes unwillingly. Oh, gods! Sansa thought with dismay after an instant of staring at them, a shiver going down her spine. Those are mine!
She could see it now: it was her nails that had scraped into his skin yesterday as he took her against the moss and as the Hound braced his back, she glimpsed the imprint of her teeth just where his sturdy neck met his collar bone. She had bitten him, Sansa now remembered. I had almost forgotten. The shock of seeing what she had done made her briefly forget herself and she dropped the tinder she had held in her arms to the ground.
"Careful with that wood, little bird," Sandor Clegane rasped as he leaned the head of his axe to the ground and laid his gaze on her. In the angle he was at, all Sansa could see from his face were the leathery and twisted dark skin of his scars and the hint of bone down his jaw. "We'll need it tonight," the man added, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Of course," Sansa replied, her cheeks ablaze and body shivering. As she spoke, her stare kept darting to the marks on the Hound's shoulders.
Unsurprisingly, the man noticed and glanced down at them. When he saw what had attracted her attention so, he peered at Sansa, his mouth curving into a faint, sly smirk, but he quickly looked away and lifted his axe high over his head with both hands. A sharp noise resounded in the woods – causing a couple of birds to fly from a branch nearby - as the Hound swung the heavy weapon down and cleaved open the log he had standing in front of him. Her heart beating madly in her chest, Sansa stared at the two resulting thinner logs as they fell to the ground, yet she hastily shook herself and bent down to pick up the tinder she had dropped.
When she was done, she hurried to their camp and tossed everything to the floor. How did I ever do something like this? she wondered, horrified. The notion that she could have scratched and bitten someone enough to leave scars shamed her to no end. He did… he did provoke me, she reminded , there was no way around it: ladies didn't do things like that. The idea that she had mortified her to no end even while she knew her guilt was ludicrous.
Chasing the troubling thought away as best she could, Sansa settled up the camp. As she did whenever they spent the night in the open, she unrolled their bedrolls on the floor and set their furs and covers over them. She and the Hound had always slept nearby for protection reasons but as she installed everything, she was tempted to place their beds a bit more apart than usual. But what will it change? If he wants me, nothing will stop him. The realisation convinced her not to attempt anything. There was no avoiding it anyhow. She knew it would happen again. And really, why should she dread it? The worst was already done and she understood well enough how it went by now. There was nothing to fear. Or at least, that was what she tried to convince herself of. Her decision taken, Sansa installed their bedrolls even nearer. There was no use in fighting the inevitable and she therefore wouldn't.
When the Hound came back, his arms were filled with logs. He had chopped so much wood that he had to return to the dead tree a few times to collect everything but he flat-out refused Sansa's help when she proposed it. After having put his tunic and cloak back on, he began working on a fire, building some sort of pyramid with a few logs and some of the tinder Sansa had collected. It was still early: the sun had not yet set and was still strong and high in the sky.
"I've set a few snares," Sandor Clegane said, sitting on a log he had installed by the fire. "If we're lucky, one will have caught something before it's too dark to see and we should have nice embers to roast it by then."
Sansa nodded, her gaze lowered to where her hands were folded on her knees. Some meat was always welcome of course, no matter from which creature it came she had learned since they had departed from King's Landing.
Silence fell over them but Sansa was in no mood to break it. She was sitting on her bedroll at the other side of the campfire from the Hound, her stomach pulled into a tight knot, and doing her best not to attract his attention by staying as motionless as she could but her efforts were worthless. The man's gaze was glued on her and he was watching her while drinking from one of his wineskins, a rabid spark shining in his dark eyes. Sansa had a good idea of what he had in mind and while the very thought of it made her tremble with apprehension, she found the wait so very nerve-racking that she was almost relieved when Sandor Clegane finally spoke.
"Come over here," he told her nonchalantly.
Despite how she had expected his demand, Sansa wavered and the speed of her pulse increased.
"Go on," he bid her a bit more insistently.
Taking a deep breath, the girl rose and strolled toward him, unwilling to test his patience in spite of how relaxed he seemed. Her knees felt weak and the world around her unstable, yet Sansa managed not to lose her balance. When she got just in front of him, she halted and the man looked her up and down with unhidden interest.
Letting out an appreciative grunt, he bit at his lip and gazed up at her face. "Why don't you undress, little bird? I've never seen you completely naked. I'd like to correct that now."
Sansa was petrified for an instant. "B… but, my lord… It's cold. I'd freeze!"
"It's not so cold by the fire. I'm sweating just to be here," Sandor Clegane rasped. Undoing his cloak from his neck, he let it fall to the ground behind him to make his point. When he saw Sansa was still hesitating, the burnt corner of his mouth twitched. "All right. Just to please you, here." Twisting on his seat to pick an extra log from the ground, he added it to the fire. As he did, the flames crackled and grew instantly stronger and higher. "See, little bird? Even I can be gallant when I want. Now why don't you do as I ask to thank me, huh?"
The worst was, he was right. Their campfire had been strong but with that extra log and the afternoon's sun still relatively warm, she was undeniably overdressed. Close to the flames' proximity as she was, she could probably remove all her layers and still be comfortable. And yet, to feel the Hound's piercing stare creep all over her skin and have naught left to hide behind… the mere idea made her shudder!
The man read right through her. "Don't be so shy, little bird. I only want to admire you," he assured her, his tone somewhat playful.
Sansa knew his intentions were not so simple but she couldn't well tell him that. He'd only laugh if she did. And anyhow, what were her choices? She had none and thus, keeping her gaze lowered, she undid her cloak and the laces of her gown with shaky fingers and pulled the garb over her head. When she was down to her shift, she paused in her task and hugged herself more out of anxiety than cold. That she could be so nervous to disrobe before a man that had already taken her twice was certainly nonsensical, however Sansa despairingly needed something to cling to. By forcing her to expose her bare body to his eyes, Sandor Clegane was not only stripping her of her clothes but also, depriving her of the last semblance of propriety and distance that stood between them. Another step in the destruction of her privacy would be taken.
"Please, my lord… couldn't I keep my shift on like yesterday? I'll unlace the front if you want," Sansa pleaded even though she had little hope he would agree.
From his log, the Hound was watching her, his eyes shining in a mix of hunger and amusement. "Didn't you hear what I said just before? I know some of you highborn ladies were prude but that's not naked." He snorted a dry laugh, his face splitting into a wolfish grin. "At least not to me."
The sooner I'll do as he demands, the sooner this will all be done and he'll leave me alone, Sansa reluctantly concluded. Gathering her courage, she took off her shift and soon, her body was only covered with her smallclothes and long stockings.
At the view of her bare curves, the man's expression became serious and his build tensed visibly. "Come over here," he urged her in an almost menacing tone after a moment of studying her. Leaning forward, he circled his hands around her waist to force her to do as he asked.
When Sansa was standing between his spread out legs, he seized her smallclothes and tugged them down her thighs and then, with a hand at the small of her back and another behind her knees, he lifted her from the floor and installed her sideway on his lap. Sansa yelped in surprise, her heart racing into her chest.
"Mmm, that's good," Sandor Clegane breathed as he pushed her smallclothes from her legs. Ever the good girl, Sansa helped him by kicking them away when they reached her ankles and the man grunted approvingly.
Then, with a hand curled over her shoulder, he pulled her down until her back was tilted enough for her head to fall backward and held her in place like that. In that new position, Sansa's body was entirely offered to him and at the thought, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling herself blush madly from her brow to the tip of her toes. His manhood was already hard; she could feel it point against the side of her bottom, at once stiff and demanding.
In no time, the Hound's large hand began caressing her, going from the side of her thigh before shortly ending on her breasts. Sansa had always known men loved that part of a woman's body and Sandor Clegane was certainly no exception. He was pretty much obsessed with hers as she had learned yesterday and was now fondling them in his palm and lightly pinching their nipples with calloused fingers. Arching her back, the girl let him explore her as much as he wished all the while trying not to think too much of her current situation. Her efforts were vain though, for every few seconds, the fact that she was naked in the Hound's arms hit her anew like a ton of bricks. How did it ever come to this? Sansa wondered, feeling lost and dizzy.
"Gods, little bird, you're beautiful," the Hound breathed suddenly, his voice low and ragged. With that, he raised his palm to her face and cupped her cheek. His long and thick fingers digging into her hair, his thumb went just under her chin as he lifted her head until it was not hanging backward anymore. "So bloody beautiful."
Intuitively, Sansa opened her eyes, her gaze instantly locking with his. The man's stare was stronger than anyone's she had ever met and while to have it bore into hers intimidated her and tightened the knot in her tummy even more, she didn't look away.
"You're a fucking goddess, girl. Believe my bloody words," he said, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. "I've lived at court for more than a decade and never saw a woman that could truly compete with you."
Really? Sansa wondered, taken aback by his confession. It was not like him to be so expressive and compliment her like that. To have him speak such words to her and regard her face with eyes so intent they seemed almost passionate in some twisted way woke a weird fluttering in her belly. Ever since this had all began, she had been under the impression that she was no more than an easy and convenient prey for him and therefore, to hear him tell her how beautiful she was made her feel… good?
No! There's no sense in this! Why should I care about what he thinks? But she did. She wanted to be beautiful and had always hoped she would be the most precious thing to her husband while he claimed his marital right on her. The Hound was not her husband – nor would he ever be - but he was nonetheless acting as such and as thus, it felt good to know that at least, he truly appreciated her beauty. It seemed less like a waste, somehow. But it's absurd, Sansa mused, disgusted with herself for being weak even where her feelings were concerned. She shut her eyes, unwilling to look at Sandor Clegane anymore and as she did, the man pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.
As it had when he did yesterday, the sensation of his lips on hers was so very strange. The man's mouth tasted strongly of wine and his stubble was scratching her but unlike the previous one, this kiss was unexpectedly soft and gentle. With her eyes closed, Sansa could almost pretend they were not a victim and her assailant but two different persons. A man and a maid that had meaning to each other. The illusion was utterly comforting, so much so that for a split second, the girl forgot herself and began moving her lips and tongue ever so slightly with his. Just as she did though, Sandor Clegane removed his hand from her cheek and brought it between her thighs to stroke her there, reminding her of whom she was truly being kissed by.
Without more prelude, the man entered her with a finger and as Sansa gasped, he plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. Unwittingly, she sucked at it, which made him groan and prompted him to grow more voracious with his mouth. With the pad of his thumb, he started stroking that small nub of flesh he had yesterday and Sansa stirred in his clutches at the curious, sharp sensation it triggered, both her hands griping themselves after his tunic.
"Oh, yes… You love that, don't you, little bird?" he muttered throatily.
Sansa wasn't sure she 'loved it' but it wasn't painful either and so she didn't utter a word to contradict him and didn't stop herself from moaning when the urge came, knowing that was what Sandor Clegane expected from her. The sound encouraged him and he spat on his fingers before resuming his ministrations and engulfing one of her nipples in his mouth. Sansa stiffened as he added a second finger into her. She was still sore, very much so after those two times he had ravished her and her day of horseback ridding, nevertheless two fingers were still smaller than his shaft and she thus got used to it after a few comings and goings.
The man's thumb was tracing small circles over her nub and his fingers repetitively penetrating her. These stimulations, added to his mouth grazing and licking at her breasts, were getting too much for Sansa and she shortly started feeling light-headed and overwhelmed. In reaction, she moaned and sighed, her frame shifting helplessly against Sandor Clegane's rock-hard torso.
"Gods, little bird…" the Hound mumbled, something akin to amazement in his husky voice.
His fingers were brushing against her with growing haste and his muscles were clenching and unclenching under her. Sansa could tell he was getting quite aroused by the way he was rocking his hips. With the same hand he used to invade and stroke her, he was pushing her down against his erection and rubbing it with her behind. It was quickly becoming uncomfortable for Sansa but apart from whimpering louder and squirming a bit more, she wasn't sure how to make him understand she wanted him to slow down and be gentler. And would he even care anyway?
Just as Sansa was about to panic, the man left both her breasts and her lady's part. "That's enough," he stated, sounding exhausted already.
Keeping her against him with a hand under her bottom, Sandor Clegane brusquely rose to his feet. The unexpected movement made Sansa squeak and since she feared to fall to the ground, she snaked her arms around his neck, holding tightly unto him. She could smell his sweat, strong and musky, and the roughspun of his tunic was scratchy against the smooth skin of her face but she was passed caring and leaned her head against his shoulder anyway. That way, she felt secured at least.
The Hound carried her like that a few steps before bending down and laying her over the bedroll nearest to the fire. "It's not cold here?" he asked.
"No," Sansa answered truthfully, her eyes lowered.
"We'll take those off then," he said, pushing her stockings down. Here again, Sansa helped him, grabbing them and finishing the job for him.
As she did, the man picked another log from the pile he had built earlier and tossed it in the fire. "This'll keep you even warmer. I won't risk you catching a cold."
After having very briefly poked the fire with a long stick, he sat back on his log, Sansa watching as he hastily unlaced his boots. When he was done, he rose, removed his tunic and then, his breeches and smallclothes until everything was lying on the ground around him.
Oh gods… Sansa thought, her breath catching in her throat. While she had felt his member prod at her through his breeches and invade her in the most intimate fashion possible, she had never seen it before. Now that Sandor Clegane was unashamedly standing as naked as on his name day before her, she could see everything.
His manhood was an imposing and scary thing, cutting the air straight before him like a weapon ready to be wielded and the idea that she was the battlefield he intended to conquer was chilling. The girl barely remembered how their first time had gone, her memory of it was extremely foggy, and when he had taken her yesterday night, he had been naught but a dark, towering shadow looming over her and constraining her to the ground. There was no darkness to obstruct the truth now. She could behold him exactly as he was: so overwhelmingly tall and brawny to the point that he didn't even seem human to her - especially with those terrifying scars that marred half of his face. That a man like him could have imposed himself on her and appropriated her body as if he was entitled to it was still an abstract concept to Sansa. It all seemed very unreal.
"Little bird…" the Hound murmured. Seizing his member in a massive fist and tugging at it, he lowered his heavy build on a knee by her side. "You know what I want, don't you?" As he spoke, he spread her legs and installed himself in-between.
She did indeed and so Sansa didn't resist and let him take his place. While having his fingers dig into her just moments before had not hurt so much, she knew things would be different with his manhood and the idea of once more having to accommodate something so long and thick made her anxious – especially now that she had glimpsed it.
"My lord, be… be…"
"My lord," the Hound scoffed. Licking his fingers, he dipped them deeply into her cleft. "I told you I was no buggering lord before but you never listened. Will you at last stop being so bloody formal with me now that I'm fucking you?"
Sansa was speechless. "I… I…"
"Come on now. I don't deserve your pretty words, won't you agree? I'm no better than a street dog. Call me by my name and that'll be enough. Sandor. Can you say that?"
Sansa shut her eyes, sensing the head of his member taking place at her entrance.
"Come to think of it, I'd even like to hear you say it while I take you. Will you do that for me, little bird?"
His shaft was making its way into her in short, little stabs, reviving the dull pain she had carried with her all day. "Ah!" she complained softly.
"Go on, little bird. Why don't you?" Sandor Clegane insisted.
To use his first name seemed terribly intimate, yet perhaps it was better she did as he asked. There was indeed no sense in being formal with someone that had chosen to ignore all proprieties. "Sandor…" the girl whimpered as he filled her completely.
"That's right," the man said with feverish satisfaction.
Folding his upper arms against the ground just under Sansa's head, he brought his mouth to hers to kiss and nibble hungrily at her lips. His torso was pressed flush against hers, warm and heavy, and he was unhurriedly moving his hardened manhood in and out of her. Although it did burn, the girl was relieved to see it was not as bad as yesterday. Mayhap the Hound was right and she would get used to it.
One of his hands left its place on the floor behind Sansa's head and went trailing down her side. When it reached her thigh, Sandor Clegane lifted it to spread her legs wider apart. Bracing his back, he thrust himself more profoundly inside of her, cursing under his breath as his groin touched her mound. The girl saw stars at the impact - letting out a lament as he reiterated, this time a little faster. She could tell the man wouldn't retain his relative calm much longer and since she knew how swiftly the change to feral could occur, she didn't wait any longer and immediately clutched her hands over his steel-solid shoulders and closed her thighs against his hip.
The Hound apparently appreciated her gesture, for he growled in contentment. "Yes, that's it, girl. Wrap those little arms of yours around me. I intend to fuck you hard," he hissed, slightly out of breath.
Lowering his face to her neck, he bitted and licked her there. Then, he began grinding his pelvis against hers with increased speed and strength, his muscular thighs pushing onto the back of her raided up ones and spreading them more apart with each of his shoves. His broad chest was brushing against the sensitive skin of her breasts, its rough hair teasing her nipples and rendering them even more stiff and pointy. The man raised the hand he had around her thigh to seize one between his fingers and Sansa groaned as he pinched it, her nails digging into his thick skin.
Sandor Clegane's manhood was massive between her legs and his movement in her restless but by following his cadence and holding onto him, Sansa's pain was certainly tolerable. While her walls ached, something deep inside of her was also being stimulated with the friction and causing that odd but now familiar pressure in her loins to arise once more. She was reluctant to admit it to herself but that specific sensation wasn't so terrible. It gave her something other than her discomfort to focus on at least and permitted her to forget herself and the whole world around her for as long as she kept her eyes shut.
Her moment of oblivion didn't last very long. Soon, the man halted his pounding and propped himself on his hands. Sansa gazed up at him, nervous to see what he now had in mind. With eyes wild and burning, the Hound was staring back at her all the while catching his breath, his swollen member still sheathed in her stretched out insides. Sweat was beading all over his body, some of which had pervaded her skin, the girl noticed as a light breeze blew over her, giving her gooseflesh.
"Get on all four," he bid her, withdrawing his manhood from her folds.
Sansa wasn't sure she understood but she did as Sandor Clegane demanded and let him turn her around. With his hands around her waist, he immediately yanked her nearer until she was on her hand and knees just before him. He means to take me like a beast, she realised, a wave of embarrassment flowing over her.
But the Hound didn't enter her at once. No instead, he backed away slightly to look at her bottom and knead it firmly with his hands. One of his thumbs went tracing lightly over the crack in-between its cheeks which made Sansa's eyes grow wide. To be in that posture was already humiliating enough but to be touched there… the girl was blushing so furiously, her cheeks burned like wildfire.
Thankfully, Sandor Clegane quickly stopped and clasped a hand around her waist, the other placing the head of his manhood at her entrance. His tick member plunged into her without any more delay, eliciting a gasp from her.
"Mmm, oh yes," the Hound was murmuring.
Steadily, he pulled his entire length out of her before letting it slid back into her cleft just as soon. Again and again, he repeated the motion, Sansa gasping each and every time. The sensation was so acute in that position; she wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Not so bad, she thought, shame instantly overtaking her. She was not supposed to enjoy this, not even slightly.
"Tell me how I feel," the Hound inquired suddenly.
Uncertain of what he meant, Sansa stayed silent.
"Tell me," he repeated, his finger digging painfully into her hips. As he spoke, he rocked his hips forward with more force than previously and Sansa winced at the pang the gesture sent through her lower belly.
Still unsure what to say but aware Sandor Clegane was getting impatient, she went for the obvious. "Big." The word came out strangled.
"Mmm, what else?" he asked, while slowly drawing out of her.
"Hard."
"I am indeed," he agreed with some measure of pride. "And as never before." Then, punctuating his words with a few meaningful thrusts, he added: "You're going to get this big, hard cock every single night until we arrive to that bloody castle of yours."
Every single night, Sansa thought as Sandor Clegane's movement in her became faster. She had known it already, it had been an evidence - especially since he had taken her that second time. Yet, to hear it aloud was something else. It's all right. I'm used to it already and the journey won't last forever, she reasoned. When she got to Winterfell, she could forget all about it and pretend it had never happened. Once the Hound would no longer be around, she'd be free to resume being the innocent maiden she had been before they left King's Landing and everything would become as it was meant to be again.
For the time being though, the fact that she was being vigorously mounted by the Hound could not possibly be ignored. In a way, it was appropriate that he took her like that. He was a dog after all, or so he liked to claim himself to be. If he's a dog, then it means he takes me for… for his bitch, she realised, the horror the idea woke in her not as pure as she'd have wished. The friction of his manhood as he tirelessly impaled her and the weird warmth which was pooling in her lower belly were tainting her judgment and confusing her too much for her to think straight.
"Fuck…" Sandor Clegane whispered roughly, his balls rhythmically hitting her with each of his comings and going.
His claiming of her was growing more frantic, to the point that Sansa was starting to experience that same pain in her womb she did whenever he lost his control completely. She knew it meant he would soon be done with her.
Shutting her eyes, the girl tensed against his assault but there was no way she pushed him away with her back to him and thus, she endured as much as she could all the while letting out a series of small cries. With every impact, her whole frame shook - her head bobbing and teeth rattling – and after a few heartbeats of that, she propped her upper arms down on the bedroll and leaned her brow over them in hope to anchor herself to the ground. Tears were welling in her eyes by the time the Hound finally halted. With his hands locked solidly around her waist, he shoved himself to the hilt and uttered a long, guttural growl. He stayed motionless then, keeping her flush against him for an instant, before resuming pumping his pulsing manhood into her.
After a few additional slower thrusts, Sandor Clegane exhaled loudly and stopped for good. He trailed his large hands over Sansa's sides and back and gave her a small slap on the bottom.
"Damn you, girl. You've sucked the strength out of me…" he muttered drowsily while withdrawing his shaft from her. "Need some rest now…" With that, he let himself fall heavily on his back by her side.
Both of them laid on the bedroll side by side for a couple of minutes, panting just as much. The juncture of Sansa's thighs was sticky with the man's fluid and while her folds were throbbing and irritated, she could also feel the remnant of something else lingering there. The idea made her even more uneasy than her nakedness and she abruptly stood up, eager to find something to busy her mind with.
The Hound raised himself on his elbow and watched her through heavy lidded eyes. "There's a creek that way if you want to clean up," he said, nodding lazily to his left.
"Thank you," Sansa whispered more out of habit than genuine gratefulness.
Bowing down, she picked her shift from the ground and pulled it over her body before hurrying in the creek's direction. As she strode from the heat of the fire, she realised how cold it truly was. The forest's soil was moist and cool against her bare feet and her limbs were shivering but she didn't care and kept on going.
The girl had only made a few steps that Sandor Clegane's seed had already dripped down to the middle of her thighs and when she arrived at the creek, it had reached her just below the knee on one side. How messy, she mused while crouching by the banks. After having bunched her skirt around her waist, she spread her legs and splashed some freezing water over her folds and the inside of her thighs with her joined hands. She was attempting to rinse all traces of the man's semen away when an image of her Lady Mother and brother Robb gazing down at her from some higher ground flashed in her mind. The notion that her family could somehow see her as she performed such a disgraceful task made her heart skip a beat – no matter how irrational it was. In a sudden state of distress, Sansa paused in her action, the weight of her shame crushing her completely.
"It's not my fault!" she pleaded aloud, her voice breaking on the last word.
Her face contracting as if she was about to cry, she lowered her gaze to unseeingly stare at her spread out thighs. What if they don't believe me? Or worse, simply don't care how it happened and judge me for it anyway? She couldn't bear to behold her Lady Mother and bother's disappointed expressions. To see herself depreciated in the eyes of those she loved most would be even worse than the actual loss of her maidenhead.
But they'll never learn, Sansa reminded herself while biting hard at her lip and trying to steady her breathing. She would die before she confided her secret and the Hound would certainly not tell anyone either. She was worrying for nothing.
Regardless of how true this all was, the girl was still not soothed. She was beyond exhausted from having been so nervous all day and she could sense her body was on the verge of breaking down. She lifted both her hands to her face in a will to hide it from the harshness of the world and lost it. Her body shaking, she uttered a small lament and started sobbing for real.