A/N: To all those who are not members of and left reviews, I want to say I'm sorry I can't respond to each of you personally but I really appreciate your comments, thank you so much :D
Sansa strained to see through the narrow slats of the closet. Slumped down on the bed, Sandor held his head in his hands for several long moments before running long fingers through his hair. Then he drew the dark green piece of her torn skirt from his tunic pocket and rubbed it between his fingers, almost gently.
Panic surged through her, and Sansa struggled to still her trembling. He must have gone back to the godswood! He must know I was the one spying on him! Gods, whatever will he think of me now? Hot tears burned her eyes until she saw Sandor do something strange: he raised the material to his nose and inhaled deeply with a low growl before carefully rubbing the velvet material against his cheek.
Slowly he peeled off his boots and tunic before turning to face her and unlacing his breeches. Oh, gods, he is going to take his bath… Gaping with all her might, she drank in the sight of his hardened cock jutting out from a mass of thick black hair below his stomach. It's so very long and thick-and the same color as his mouth! Oh, gods, she would never be able to look at him again without that thought coming to mind...
Sansa unconsciously licked her lips at the sight of Sandor's aroused state. Seven save me; his manhood reaches clear up to his belly button. She knew she should turn away, but Sansa could not resist this opportunity to relish the sight of him. She had no idea when she would see him like this again and his manhood, after all, was every bit as impressive as the rest of him.
Her breath started coming in short gasps, and the young woman squeezed her thighs together to ease the sudden surge of aching want throbbing in her woman's place. Swallowing hard, she wondered that he would even be able to fit inside a woman-and not just any woman, but her. One way or another, Sansa was now determined she would throw propriety to the wind and find a way to get Sandor into her bed, no matter the consequences.
After rinsing the warm water of his massive form, Sandor began leisurely lathering his chest and arms while humming softly to himself. Sansa immediately recognized the tune from the many weddings she attended: The Bear and the Maiden Fair. That seems appropriate enough; Sandor certainly could pass for a bear, he is so very large and hairy.
A small giggle slipped out at the thought, and covering her mouth, Sansa gasped in horror when she saw Sandor's eyes dart over to the closet doors. Suddenly he was on his feet and heading her way, sending bathwater sloshing all over the marble weirwood floor in his haste. Panicked, Sansa burrowed deeper into the closet behind his cloaks and held her breath as he yanked open the door. She remained perfectly still behind his clothes, all the while hoping he would not look down and see her feet.
"What the fuck? Little bird, come out of there! What in Seven hells has gotten into you?" Sandor bellowed, pushing aside the cloaks and dragging her out of the closet, seemingly oblivious to his naked state. "What would your septa say? Bloody hells! Since when did you start peeking at your sworn shield?"
Sandor stood before her naked as his nameday with his hand on his hip, dripping suds all over the floor. The soap began trickling down his stomach and trailed a wet path toward his manhood, gathering in the hair that covered his body. Speechless, Sansa turned scarlet and gaped at him once more and then covered her face with her hands.
Sandor's deep rasping laugh echoed in the sparsely furnished room. When she peeked through her fingers he chuckled, and she watched his eyes heatedly sweeping over her body. "Not that I mind. Not every dog has such a pretty little bird spying on him. Go ahead, have your look, woman. I've no shame about it."
Bursting into tears, Sansa raced past him out of the room. Faintly Sandor called out behind her but she was too humiliated to stop. Surely he wouldn't dare follow me in his state of undress!
With Sandor one could never be sure but it would certainly cost him his head if any of her brother's men saw him chasing after her naked through the halls of Winterfell.
Once safely in her rooms, Sansa sobbed out her embarrassment in her pillow. She half expected him to follow her and was relieved when she discovered that he had not. Still, Sansa felt certain he would be along shortly and so she sat down at her dressing table, washed her face and smoothed down her hair.
A very long tedious hour later, she found herself somewhat disappointed when still he did not come to her. I left him crying; as my sworn shield, surely he will check on me. Is it possible she imagined the instances she believed were proof of his feelings for her? Perhaps it was only her girlish fancy that allowed her to believe he cared for her. Still, she was certain he found her desirable to look upon. He couldn't very well just stay away and pretend he didn't find her in his closet, could he? Disillusionment settled over her as the hours ticked by with still no sign of Sandor.
A bitterly cold evening storm blew down from the Frostfangs, chilling her quarters. Not wishing to call the maid, Sansa went about building a fire and then reclined on the chaise with a glass of wine. The last call of the nightwatchman sounded through Winterfell, and still no sign of Sandor. Confused and disheartened, Sansa decided she would prepare for bed. On her nightstand she spied the new book Sandor brought her but after struggling to focus, she gave up. She was too distracted to read. As she set it down, she thought she heard footsteps outside her door. Pausing, she went to the door and paused, straining her ears against the wood. He wouldn't dare sneak up on me at this time of night. It is nothing more than my nerves playing tricks on me, Sansa decided after several moments passed and still she was unable make out any further noise.
Distractedly Sansa sat down to her vanity, reached for the lavender oil and inhaled deeply from the flask, willing herself to relax. It helped some but still she felt agitated and cross. Eyeing her hairbrush, she remembered the comfort it brought when her mother used to brush her hair as a child. Yes, it is just the thing to settle my nerves before bed.
Methodically Sansa began running the brush through the length of her hair, carefully detangling the knots with her fingers while humming Sandor's earlier tune. To her dismay, the lace bodice of her sleeping gown caught on the fine boar bristles, snagging the delicate material. Annoyed, Sansa hastily slipped the gown of her shoulders, kicked it off to the side and continued brushing her hair.
Images of Sandor's body came unbidden to her mind, bringing a small smile to her face and filling her body with a delightfully warm sensation. She would certainly dream about him after the extraordinary events of the day. The distinct clicking of the door handle startled her out of her reverie. Whirling around, she saw Sandor standing inside the doorway, his mouth pulled into a wicked grin.
"Let's see how the Little bird likes having her sworn shield peek at her for a change," he growled, dangling the torn piece from her skirt in front of her as he entered the room and closed the door.
A hot flush of embarrassment spread over her cheeks. "Sandor, this is-this is not-" she sputtered, trying to pull the lace robe she sat on over her shoulders. The garment was trapped beneath her and so she settled on covering her breasts with her hands and crossed her legs in an final desperate attempt to preserve her modesty.
Chuckling darkly, he stepped closer to her. "What? Decent? Appropriate?" Sandor mocked, the corner of his lips curling devilishly as he allowed his eyes to slowly take in her body. "Seems the Little bird didn't mind those things when she was the one getting the eyeful."
Sansa watched Sandor's gray eyes darken with lust as they leisurely traveled from her face to her hair draped over her breasts and then down the slope of her stomach to the dark red curls concealing her woman's place.
Laughing coarsely, he licked his lips at her and stepped closer. "What's good for the bird is good for the Hound, woman."
