Small changes to Arya/Sandor scene. Full version on Ao3


Sandor

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"A man's gotta have a code."

"You are the biggest idiot in the Seven Kingdoms!"

"Your words wound me deeply," he said dramatically, pulling her back in his arms. "What's one more night to wait?"

"You are cruel."

"You said that before."

When she asked him to go with her to the Arbor as her shield. And her secret lover.

"I was right," she said.

He heard the note of pain in her voice. If she had suffered half as much as him while they were apart, she'd been in hell. He had to tell her.

"Do you know how many times I thought about what you asked me?" he said. "How much I wanted to leave everything and come to you?"

"Why didn't you?"

"You're the smart one. You should know."

"Your stupid honor," she said.

"Fuck honor," he spat. "Honor meant nothing when all I wanted was to touch you again. To make you shake and call out my name. To give you everything I had to give."

"Then why?"

Her voice was soft, pain, like his own, echoed in it.

"Because I'm dumb. And I would have died to see you with another man. To know you share his bed. To see him touching you."

He paused. That wasn't everything.

"I dreamt of killing him," he said. "And you."

He'd seen a mummers' play once in which a jealous king had killed his innocent wife because he believed she was unfaithful. He'd laughed at the stupid premise. Plenty of real reasons to kill someone. Who needed made up imaginings? He understood that play when he woke up night dreaming he killed her.

His hand rested on her neck. It looked much like those dreams. He'd never harm her in the waking world. But those dreams. They tortured him for so long.

She was there. Alive and well and his. He leaned over and hovered over her lips. To his surprise, she allowed the soft touch to go on without complaining. He expected her to pull him into a proper kiss.

"What would you have thought if I bedded the girl in the tavern not knowing it was you?" he asked.

He got distracted when her bosom rose as she drew in a deep breath. He cupped her breast and started playing with her nipple.

"It was still me. I would have enjoyed it."

"Would we still be here? The night before our wedding?"

"Probably not. I'd probably already be with child by now," she said.

He looked at her surprised. "It might not have happened from one fucking."

It was her turn to look surprised. "How can you possibly think it would have happened only once?"

He smiled back at her. That was true. They were going to have a problem leaving Casterly Rock after their wedding night. Leaving their room.

"Until tomorrow," he said. "We'll have to make due with other games."

The eagerness with which she looked at him told him all he needed to know. He hadn't been the only one to live off the memory of those games.

He'd been thinking about her for so long, he'd been imagining things to do to her, things she'd do to him, he had a hard time choosing what he wanted to do first. The indecision lasted for a moment.

He flipped her on her belly.

"Up," he said, with a slight upward pressure on her hip to let her know what she wanted.

Arya stuck her ass up in the air, and he groaned at the enticing sight. It was going to be very hard not to fuck her that night. He slid along her flesh. She gasped and shivered and wriggled her ass, trying to get it to enter where she needed it.

He put his hands firmly on her hips and kept her still.

"Don't even think about it," he said. "Actually, no. Think about it. Think about it long and hard but don't try to get it tonight cause it ain't gonna happen."

"If you don't make me finish tonight, I'm not marrying you," she said.

"That so?"

He began moving his hips. His mouth watered at the sensations. He had to taste her again.

Arya started to shake as soon as he found the right pressure and speed. The first climax came swiftly, and she bucked her hips wildly.

"Fuck," he cursed and barely pulled his hips back in time.

He was not going to accidentally fuck her. That would come the next day. And there would be nothing accidental about it.

She flopped down on the bed when she was done.

"Ok, I'll marry you." Her face was buried in the mattress and her voice sounded muffled.

He was still straddling her hips, when she turned around underneath him. He was not going to last long.

She slid her fist up and down his length a few times, bringing him closer to the edge. He opened his eyes when she stopped.

"I want that," she said.

He had re-lived their few times together obsessively over the years. It had been just a game then, but he had promised her that next time he would come all over her breasts. He finished with his own hand. He whispered her name while he spilled his seed over her breasts.

"It was worth the wait," she said looking up at him.

He crashed in bed next to her, and smiled at the confirmation that she had lived off those same nights.

He pulled her into a sloppy kiss.

"As soon as I get my breath back, we'll make new memories," he said.


Sansa

How different everything felt with Tyrion.

The first thing she needed to wipe out of her mind were Petyr's kisses. Dutiful daughterly kisses he'd demanded. She wasn't angry with Petyr. When Arya spilled his blood on the Winterfell floors, all that was left of Petyr were his teachings. And those were useful. But the memory of his kisses had to go.

She wondered if it was wrong to use Tyrion like this. Even if she'd been honest with him. Her beauty influenced men whether they were aware of it or not. She had to believe that Tyrion was strong enough to get passed being used. He cared for her, and once he kissed her back, Sansa didn't mind if he only did it out of pity or out of a common fascination with her beauty.

She saw him hesitate to return into her bed once the room was lit once again. She was going to tell him all the truth she could. As much as it as she allowed herself to know.

"I didn't answer your question," she said, sitting up in the middle of the huge bed.

He raised an eyebrow, and walked back to her. Curiosity. That would be a key to opening him up. She didn't count on him believing that she had no other reason to share his bed beyond what she told him. His sharp mind no doubt looked for her hidden reasons.

"Why I'm so sure I'll treasure the memories we forge this night," she said.

"And the answer is?"

"Your reputation."

He frowned. "My reputation is not good when it comes to women."

"Depends on the source," she said. "I doubt even you know this, but whores talk. And sometimes others listen."

"Littlefinger," he said, and the grimness of his frown increased.

She shook her head. "Only fools trusted him," she said.

"And you are no fool."

She shook her head again, and this time she smiled. "You are not going to believe who has a good opinion of you when it comes to pleasing women."

Curiosity, but also apprehension. She was glad for the light in the room. He was such a complicated man, she needed to see his face to try to guess his thoughts.

"Sandor Clegane, in his youth, worked for you. He heard the whores you visited talking about you."

Apprehension was winning against curiosity.

"Do I want to know what he said they said? Also, how did you get to talk to Clegane about it is even more of a mystery."

She cupped his cheek. "Would we be here if they didn't praise you?"

He conceded her point and climbed in bed next to her again.

"They said you take time to find out how they like to be touched, what they like to do. You give them pleasure, not just taking it."

He seemed flustered. Tyrion Lannister was in her bed, and he was the one to be blushing. Well, maybe not blushing, but slightly rattled. She beamed and leaned in to kiss him.

"As for how I know," she said between kisses. "He told my sister."

"So, I'm in your bed because I have good references from Sandor Clegane?" he asked.

"Kind of."

She lay on one side, and trailed her fingers on his chest. He was still wearing formal clothes. That jerkin had a pretty simple lacing, not much different than on her dresses, but under it there was a shirt and he'd have to take that off himself.

"The things he did to Arya…" she said, starting to loosen the lacing. "If she enjoyed them enough to marry him after not seeing him for two years… there must be something worth exploring."

His jerkin was open when she said the last word. She touched the fine linen of his shirt.

"I'm not sure I want to think of your sister with the Hound right now."

His voice sounded gruff, but almost playful.

"Really? Why?"

His chest rose when he took in a deep breath. The solid flesh bumped into her fingers.

"I'm having trouble concentrating as it is. Where are they anyway?"

"I sent them to get Lady Redwyne from the inn. They needed some time alone before the wedding."

"The Queen and King confirmed they will be here tomorrow," he said. "For your wedding."

She burst out laughing. He was going to look adorable explaining that to the Queen.

"It was an informal note," he said sulkily. "I'll straighten it up tomorrow."

"Let's hope they kept the information to themselves."

"Themselves and the people they trust," Tyrion said.

Ser Jorah, Misandei, Ser Davos, Varys… she stopped herself from unravelling more names.

"Can we not think about it now?" she asked.

"Until dawn, we are the only two people in the world," he said solemnly.

'Us and our ghosts,' Sansa thought. 'But maybe some ghosts will disappear after tonight.'

Ramsay and Shae. If she could get rid of those, she could deal with all the others.