Thunderstruck
Chapter Ten: Heaven's On Fire
The ivy lattice's rhombus-shaped holes fit Arya's hands and feet nicely. She scaled the side of the Stark house with ease, but the maneuvers no longer challenged her. She knew the routine: up the lattice, tiptoe onto the front porch overhang, pop the screen, nudge open the bedroom window, home free.
Only when she did this now, the bedroom she shared with Sansa was dark – lights off, the door shut to the hallway, and no Sansa in sight. Strange, she mused momentarily before resting her hand against the nightstand for purchase. Carefully, her leg eased into the darkness, the tip of her shoe poking around the floor. Bending and contorting like a cat, Arya managed her way through the window without causing much of a ruckus. A satisfied smile curled across her lips as she flicked on the nightstand lamp.
The powder pink phone on Sansa's nightstand let out a shrill cry, loud enough that Arya yelped with a startle and dashed towards it. Halfway through the second ring, she snatched the phone and pressed it to her ear.
"Hello," she half-whispered, expecting Gendry on the other end calling to confirm she'd made it home safely. The boy was daft at times, but she liked to think he wasn't stupid enough to call while her dad loitered around somewhere in the house.
"Arya," Sansa's voice came through in a panicked hush. "It's me!" she added with insistence.
No shit. Arya rolled her eyes and plopped down on the edge of Sansa's bed.
"Yeah, I know it's you," she retorted. Through the other end of the line, Arya heard the whizzing of passing cars and the wind picking up. "Where are you? It's almost past curfew. And why are you whispering?"
"I can't talk long. I need you to cover for me."
A round of laughter infiltrated Sansa's words – three, maybe four, men all cutting up and talking over one another. Intrigued, a smile bloomed across Arya's lips and she began twirling the phone's cord around her index finger.
"Who's that in the background?" she pressed.
"I'm with Sandor," Sansa nearly hissed, impatience growing.
Arya's brow folded in confusion until the realization dawned on her – the other voices sounded familiar to her.
"Is that…is that Cannibal Star?" she began, voice drawn low with incredulity. Sansa remained silent on the other end. "Woah, woah, woah! Back up a minute. Are you with Cannibal Star, yes or no?"
"Yes. I'm in Milwaukee," Sansa sighed as if her current situation – hanging out with fucking Cannibal Star – was some trivial, commonplace occurrence. "I need you to make something up. Tell dad I had to go back to campus for something. Just make it believable and buy me some time. Like, a lot of time."
"In what twisted reality do you get to live my dream?" Arya huffed indignantly.
"Arya, how many times have I covered for you?" Sansa reasoned and the pleading in her voice sent a deviant smile to form on Arya's lips.
"I value quality of lies over quantity. By that metric, zero times," she responded, mimicking Sansa's penchant for haughtiness.
An exasperated sigh drifted through the phone – a mix of frustration and emergent disappointment.
"Fine," Arya relented. "I'll tell him something, but you owe me big after this!"
"Thanks. Love you. Bye." Sansa's parting words came exuberantly, all running together before the line abruptly went dead. Arya stared at the receiver in her hand and shook her head.
"Lucky bitch," she murmured before replacing the phone back to its cradle.
Pushing herself from the bed, Arya crossed the room and poked her head into the darkened hallway. Rickon was already asleep by now. She eased past his room and towards the end of the hall. Bran's room was empty – the kid likely at some school function; leading band practice, organizing a student council event, poising himself to become some sort of wunderkind, ready to take over the world. Good for him, Arya thought and smiled to herself because at least one Stark kid had their shit together.
Halfway down the stairs, Arya noticed a light in the living room was on – the tall lamp that resided next to the hideous recliner her dad favored so well. The other half of the room, along with the adjacent dining room, was shrouded in darkness. Rising onto her toes, Arya willed her steps towards silence. Her plan was to ease past the living room and straight to the kitchen. It would have worked except the floorboard at the bottom of the stairs creaked loudly against her weight.
"Living room. Now," she heard her father say, authoritative yet still gentle.
Four, Arya estimated. She'd devised what she called the Ned Stark rage scale based solely on his tone of voice or the look on his face. The man normally functioned within the two to six range, but every so often, after his hoard of children relentlessly pushed his buttons, he'd reach a nine. He'd get quiet, but the veins in his neck would bulge and his cheeks turned red. He'd lose it momentarily and then sulk in some parental existential crisis until he ultimately apologized.
Arya slinked around the corner to the living room, putting on her brightest smile as she bounced up to the edge of the recliner. She ruffled her fingers through her dad's salt-and-pepper hair. He swatted her hand away from his head and pointed to the front door.
"Arya, front door. Front door, Arya. It's high time you two met," he lectured. "You're tearing up the screen on your bedroom window climbing in like that," he continued and set about folding his newspaper into neat quarters. "I assume that was your sister on the phone. When will she be home?"
"Listening in on phone conversations again? I thought you learned your lesson about that one." Arya sunk into the couch and rested her head back against the cushion. With her hands folded across her stomach, she stared at the ceiling.
"Is she with that idiot what's-his-bucket?" her dad grumbled and tossed the newspaper onto the table next to him.
"You know his name," Arya scolded and cut a glance towards her dad. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed where the pads had dug into the bridge of his nose.
"Sandork," he sneered before laughing at the moniker. Arya responded with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
"That stopped being funny a long time ago. In fact, that was, at no point, actually funny." She leaned into the padded armrest of the couch, the side of her face cradled in her palm. "Also, he's a veritable rock god. Show some respect."
With her free hand, Arya picked at the clumps of lent that invariably clung to the couch. She could hear her dad pull in a deep breath, either ready to shout or sigh his frustrations. He favored the latter tonight, probably too exhausted to engage in the former.
"Arya, you need to show me some respect," he cautioned. "Where is your sister and when will she be home?"
With the question, Arya sat up and turned a serious look towards him, something that usually preceded her lies. Only this time she hadn't quite devised a foolproof narrative that included contingences should he press for details or question her sincerity.
"She's in Milwaukee with the Hound and the rest of Cannibal Star," she replied honestly because, truly, what was the big deal if Sansa was out gallivanting with a metal band? "They're probably having an orgy right now – everyone just bumpin' uglies, gettin' right up in each other's business. I bet she's smoking three kinds of pot and–"
"That's enough," her father snapped and lifted a hand as if to create a barrier to the rest of Arya's sardonic diatribe.
"Dad, there's nothing you can do. Okay?" Arya sighed. "Sandor's a good guy. He won't let anything happen to her. She'll be fine."
Her dad grimaced at the sound of Sandor's name, perturbed that anyone might say reasonably kind things about the guy. Nodding, he placed his glasses back on his face.
"I wouldn't hold out on her coming home tonight, though," Arya continued carefully. Sansa wanted time, but the clock read well past nine. Whatever Sansa planned on doing tonight – orgies, pot smoking, or otherwise – the girl wasn't going to be home anytime soon.
"What is that supposed to mean?" The vein in her dad's neck twitched and, even in the soft light of the lamp next to him, Arya saw red starting to flood his cheeks.
She cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow lifted as she gave her father a pointed look. If she knew damn well why Sansa wasn't coming home tonight, her dad certainly should know too and she wasn't about to get trapped in another awkward and excruciating sex talk.
"I never expected this from her," he mumbled dejectedly and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but, hey, I'm home on time!" she offered with an enthusiastic and cheesy smile. "At least Sansa and I alternate being disappointing screw-ups."
Her dad shifted a fatigued glance in her direction and relented. A tired laugh eased from his lips followed by a heavy sigh. Arya pushed herself from the couch and began towards the foyer. Her father lifted one hand to stop her movements and stared up at her with questioning eyes. He hesitated momentarily, measuring his words with his brow folded in contemplative reserve.
"Arya, about that thing with the pot and the orgies, that's not…I mean, people don't really…anymore…do they?"
Horrified he'd even think to ask that, Arya gaped at him, not entirely certain if she should respond or laugh away the awkwardness of the question and high tail it back upstairs.
"God, dad! No!" she screeched. "It's not the summer of love in the Haight-Ashbury district. Sansa's in Wisconsin. Wis-con-sin. What trouble could she possibly get into there?"
"Mmm." Sandor's deep voice hummed quietly in the far back seat of the van. They'd stopped to get gas and the rest of the Cannibal Star members wandered off to an empty field next to the gas station to smoke and stretch their legs.
"So everything's cool?" he inquired between kisses pressed against Sansa's neck.
"Yeah. It's fine," Sansa breathed, hardly content to discuss her call home now. Arya would cover for her. Whether or not her dad actually bought it, Sansa didn't really care.
As soon as she returned to the van after making the phone call, Sandor had asked – no, told – her to take her panties off again. Without a word of protest, Sansa slid them down her legs and Sandor monitored carefully before tugging her onto his lap.
Her crop top had slipped off easily enough and gathered around the small of her waist. Similarly, her bra had disappeared somewhere on the floorboard near Sandor's feet, probably resting amongst empty beer cans and food wrappers. She didn't care about that either. Right now, all her thoughts were on the way his hands smoothed over her breasts and his tongue swept across her nipples until they hardened.
Sansa slid back on his legs until her back rested against the seat in front of them. She propped her feet up on the edge of the seat, one foot on each side of Sandor and her legs spread before him.
With the pad of his thumb, he teased her clit in circular motions until Sansa's back arched and she writhed with his movements. He swiped between her folds, spreading the wetness around in soft strokes and watching his own ministrations between her legs.
"I want to fuck you," he declared, staring between her legs. Sansa continued to rock her hips gently against his touch and her legs fell further apart.
In between the waves of pleasure, she discerned the shadowed outlines of Sandor's band mates across the parking lot. She saw the glow of their cigarettes moving through the darkness. For now, they seemed occupied, but she couldn't say for how long.
"You do?" Sansa inquired breathlessly and on the dying end of a moan.
She already knew this of course. He'd been murmuring dirty declarations into her ear the whole drive up to Milwaukee. With the music blaring from the van speakers, no one else could've possibly heard. Sequestered in the far back seat, the others also didn't see how Sandor's hand had slipped underneath her shirt and swept against her nipples. He had guided Sansa's hand into his pants and she curled her fingers around his cock. In steady motion, she had stroked him as best she could in the small amount of space afforded by the tightness of his jeans.
By the time the other band mates declared they needed to stop, Sansa was soaked between the legs and Sandor looked wholly uncomfortable and frustrated with how hard he'd become.
"We'll stay in here," he'd grumbled as his band mates filed out of the van. They all understood perfectly well the subtext to Sandor's statement. Bronn winked at them and Beric had laughed wickedly. That'd only been ten minutes ago.
Sandor's touches now were delicate and meant for him to watch how wet he made her. He seemed hell bent on taking his time, though Sansa wasn't sure how much time they had.
"I've seen one set of lips wrapped around my cock." Sandor momentarily pulled his hand from between her legs. His fingers glistened from her wetness and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "Now I want to see the other." His eyes drifted down her faintly heaving chest and then back to her folds and swollen clit that ached to be touched again.
Slowly, he eased two fingers inside of her, admiring how easily they slid in and out. Sansa circled her hips again, urging Sandor's fingers deeper inside and letting out a sharp moan when his thumb brushed her clit. She wanted more. Her mind raced with thoughts of his cock buried inside of her, covered in the same wetness as his fingers. He'd awakened a part of her she'd kept hidden for so long, shameful and embarrassed it even existed, but now the physical want was coupled with an insatiable urge to explore these desires. Sansa cupped her breasts and swept her fingers over her nipples.
"I'm starting to have suspicions you only want me in inappropriate places." She gasped when Sandor added a third finger inside of her, all three in a tight bundle that stretched her further. "The backs of cars and vans, fitting rooms…"
"I want you everywhere," he grumbled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her neck again. He sucked softly at the hollow space right beneath the edge of her jaw. "I offered to take you back to my place once."
Did he? Sansa scanned her memories of their time together, which was always rife with innuendos and blatant suggestions. At the diner, she remembered. She hadn't taken him seriously then and assumed he only said those things to watch her blush and squirm.
"That was when we first met." Sansa dipped her head and licked at Sandor's lips. When she deepened the kiss, he matched her fervor. Her hand slipped towards the front of his unzipped jeans and gave a tug, enough that his hard cock sprung from the confines of his pants. Sansa wrapped her fingers around his shaft and worked her palm up and down in smooth motions. The fingers of Sandor's right hand still worked between her legs, but he wrapped his other hand around Sansa's and guided her movements.
"Is this what you want?" Sandor groaned and squeezed her hand tighter. He nipped gently at her bottom lip, a subtle demand for an answer.
Sansa matched his eyes in a heavy-lidded gaze and nodded. A devilish smile broke across Sandor's lips and he shifted his eyes to between her legs.
"I know it is," he chuckled darkly. "You're soaking wet, spreading your legs for me. I'd say you want it. God, I'd love to see you riding my dick right now."
Sansa shifted forward, easing herself towards Sandor until she was straddled on his lap. Pulling her hand away from his cock, her arms draped over his shoulders. Sandor removed his fingers from between her legs and let his hands settle at her hips.
In the darkness of the van, she still made out the strong features of his face – sharp jaw, hooked nose, eyes grazing over her nakedness with fond admiration. Though he was certainly rough-around-the-edges, he regarded her with a surprising gentleness. The contrasting qualities only fueled her attraction to him and she surged with want now.
Sansa placed slow kisses at Sandor's neck and cheek before her lips swept softly against his. Curiosity bid her to let her folds brush against his hardness. She grinded gently and felt how Sandor's body stiffened. His hands gripped her hips tighter and his shoulders went rigid. His eyes narrowed and his mouth contorted with a pleasured groan.
With careful movements, Sansa pressed the soaking juncture between her legs against his cock, easing up and down to spread her wetness there. With each pass, Sandor's chest heaved with increasingly heavy breaths. Sansa slipped one hand to his manhood and rose to her knees. She eased herself down enough that the tip of his cock brushed against her clit. Sansa guided the movements there with steady circular motions. Her knees trembled, ready to buckle until Sandor replaced her hand at his shaft with his own.
Sansa gripped his shoulders to steady herself and Sandor continued the circular motions at her clit before gently sliding the tip of his cock against her opening.
"Mmm," Sansa moaned, half a protest, but she eased down just enough that she felt the pressure at her opening. She rotated her hips in swiveling motions, taking a tiny bit of him inside of her. Sandor sucked in a sharp breath, which then exited his lips on a rumbling moan.
"Are we doing this here?" he breathed and matched her eyes, appearing both enthralled to the point that his breaths came panting, but also flustered, as if he hadn't truly thought they'd take it this far in the back seat of the Cannibal Star van.
Sansa stilled and chewed her bottom lip as she held his stare. The shamefulness emerged, the prudent part of her screaming from within that this was complete madness. She'd held out on Joffrey for years, the lack of sexual advancement in their relationship a solid sore spot that eventually led to the break. With Sandor, her inhibitions fled and the idea of sex became a demonstration of how much she adored him, rather than a milestone to reach at some arbitrary point.
"I want you," Sansa finally whispered against Sandor's lips, arms clinging tighter around his shoulders. "But no, not right here."
Ashamed of herself and feeling guilty for having teased him like this, Sansa shifted away from Sandor, lifting one leg in order to remove herself from his lap. His hands gripped firmly at her waist and he tugged her back towards him until Sansa's naked chest was pressed against him.
"That's fine," he said with a grin. His fingers brushed through her hair and he placed tender kisses to her lips. "I want to take my time with you, fuck you how I want to. Can't do that here."
A heat hit Sansa's cheeks, thrilled at the thought and nervous too. Everything between them seemed to have escalated so quickly and yet she wanted him more than anything else. Both curiosity and desire had come to outweigh any fear or reservation. Sansa smiled and pressed her hands against his chest, propping herself back up as she did so. Sandor sunk his fingers into her hair and yanked gently, exposing the length of her neck. His lips nipped and sucked there before his mouth swept towards her ear.
"When I do, you're going to be a good girl and tell me how much you love it, how badly you want to be fucked." His voice was a deep rumble, not loud by any means, but no less forceful. He coiled his fingers tighter into her hair. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes," Sansa sighed with a shudder running through her.
Sandor shifted, arms wrapped around the small of Sansa's back as he rotated towards the empty part of the seat next to them. He eased her towards the far end of the seat, until her back rested against the side of the van. Sansa lifted her arms over her head, only now taking note of the extent of her nakedness. Sitting next to her, Sandor's hands urged her thighs open until her legs were spread as far as the backseat would allow. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth between her legs.
"You're always such a sweet little thing," he murmured. His lips worked against her folds, brushing with each soft kiss pressed there.
"Your sweet little thing," Sansa added and gently lifted her hips to meet his kisses.
Sandor pulled away slightly with a wicked smile. "Don't you forget it," he said, equal parts threatening and playful as he stared up at her.
With that, he turned his head and ran his tongue down the inside of her thigh. With the tip of his tongue, he traced one slow line across her opening and up to her clit where he licked.
Sansa's chest heaved at the sensations rolling through her. Her eyes drifted to Sandor between her legs. Her stared up at her, while his lips and tongue moved in perfect concert.
He sucked at her clit before letting his tongue circle her opening. Back and forth, he cycled through the movements before he dipped one finger inside of her and stroked slowly. His tongue lapped at her folds and swept against the sensitive spot that left Sansa panting and moaning. She ground her hips against him and her head fell back against the side of the van. Sandor followed the sound of her heavy sighs and the trembling of her legs draped over his shoulders. He found what drove her wild and sent blinding bursts of pleasure to erupt at her core – the delicious combination of licks and swipes, sucking and stroking.
All of it brought her to the brink, certain she couldn't take much more, but more, she wanted more. She wanted to ride him, wanted him inside of her. She wanted the weight of him on top of her, sliding in and out of her, whispering all the sinfully delightful things in her ear, telling her what he wanted to do to her and then demanding certain things, dominating and consuming. She wanted it all and thought to ask for it; to say, "Fuck it and fuck me," but the silhouetted movements coming towards the van caught her attention and Sansa gasped loudly, shifting away from Sandor.
"They're coming back!" Sansa frantically tapped against Sandor's shoulder until he removed himself from between her legs.
"Fuck," he sighed and began tucking himself back into his pants.
Sansa snatched up her bra from the floorboard and hastily slipped it on. After smoothing down her skirt and putting her top back in place, she felt around the floor for her underwear. When she looked up, Sandor cracked a devilish smile at her, panties dangling from his finger.
"I need those back." Sansa tried to snatch them quickly from his hand, but Sandor yanked them away. He slipped her panties into the inside pocket of his jacket and laughed brusquely when she pouted.
"That's what you get for being a tease," he grumbled and slinked his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. "Besides, I like knowing you're wet and not wearing any panties."
Sansa felt his breath warm against her lips, the words preceding the kiss he placed there. His hand grazed up her thigh and his middle finger brushed delicately at her slit. He teased her with the lightest of touches until she spread her knees apart, just enough so that her lower lips spread and, when he stroked again, his finger slid inside of her.
Harwin flung the door of the van open and climbed in. The rest of Cannibal similarly piled into the van. Sandor removed his hand from underneath Sansa's skirt and placed it demurely on her knee.
"Smells like sex in here," Thoros commented and swiveled in his seat towards Sansa and Sandor with a raunchy smile plastered to his lips.
A flush of heat hit Sansa's cheeks at once with a deep blush. She lowered her eyes from Thoros and ignored the look Sandor shot her, one that likely savored her timid mortification. Tucked close to his side, Sansa could feel the low rumble of his laughter and the hand at her knee gave a gentle squeeze.
The remainder of the ride commenced much as it had before – metal music blaring from the speakers, Harwin easing through riffs on his air guitar, Thoros drumming his fingers against his knees, and Beric belting out the lyrics of the songs. Sansa had never heard of any of this music before and, while she made no fuss about it, she certainly didn't understand the appeal. Everything sounded shrill to her ears. With his band mates preoccupied, Sandor turned his attention to Sansa.
His kisses started at her neck in small nibbles and gentle licks. Slowly, he moved from her neck down to her collarbone, back up and along her jawline, and finally to her lips. He savored each of their kisses, apparently not minding the presence of his band mates. With slow, deliberate movements, his tongue swept against her own.
Eventually, the van turned into a gated neighborhood and came to a stop at the end of a long, paved driveway that wound towards a sprawling home. With a frustrated groan, Sandor tore himself away from Sansa, pulling his arm from around her shoulder while Cannibal Star hopped from the van.
"Where are we?" Sansa asked. The house rivaled some of the homes in Winnetka in both size and extravagance. Everything looked new and well kept – from the landscaping to the architecture. Of course, the shiny red corvette in the driveway also seemed to suggest whoever lived here didn't want for much.
"This is our manager's place," Sandor replied.
"Oh," Sansa nodded and carefully climbed from the far backseat of the van. Bent over, she had no doubts that Sandor was enjoying the view of her naked bottom peeking out from beneath her skirt. Outside the van, Sansa tugged at its hem, almost certain a gust of wind would come at an inopportune moment and reveal her nakedness.
Sandor slipped his hand into hers and they made their way towards a large porch framed in tall columns. Without knocking or ringing the bell, Beric flung open the front door of the house like he owned the place and strutted inside. The rest of the Sandor's band mates followed after him. Sansa found the inside to be just as exquisite as the exterior. The foyer floor was covered entirely in large slabs of marble that held the reflection of a large crystal chandelier hanging from above.
Off the foyer to the right, three women had seated themselves in a formal living room. With Cannibal Star's arrival, all three pushed themselves from the oversized pieces of furniture they'd been lounging on. The far wall of the living area was mirrored and reflected the space of the room – a chaise lounge, a loveseat, and a small couch, all covered in white leather and arranged around the room with a white baby grand piano in the corner.
"Hey boys," a tall woman with teased black hair greeted. An off-the-shoulder leopard print shirt showcased her tattooed arms and bare midriff. She slinked across the room, hips swaying within the skintight confines of her black leather pants. She was pretty, Sansa noticed. In fact, all three of the women were stunning in their own way.
The other two – both blondes, though one looked considerably younger, closer to Sansa's age – fell in next to the woman in the leather pants. With similarly teased hair and heavy make-up, they both smiled coquettishly.
"Girls! Looking fine as ever!" Bronn commented, though his eyes continually roved over the older blonde.
"We aim to please," she responded and wiggled her shoulders enough that her breasts jostled in her low-cut dress. That earned her another appreciative glance from Bronn who licked at his bottom lip.
Sansa shifted next to Sandor's side, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling sorely out of place. With a glance at her own outfit, it looked derivative of a Palo Alto valley girl and juvenile in comparison to what the other women were wearing. She was Debbie Gibson to their Lita Ford. Her movements closer to Sandor roused the attention of the black haired woman.
"I see you picked one up along the way. Who is this?" Her eyes dazzled with intrigue and she stepped closer, a curious smile forming on her rouged lips.
"Sansa," Sandor announced. "She's with me." Sansa clutched his hand tighter, but smiled politely when the woman approached.
"Mona," the black haired lady introduced. "C'mon, darlin'. We'll keep you company while the men talk shop." Mona took Sansa's hand from Sandor before motioning her head towards the large staircase of the foyer.
"Jerry's upstairs in the office," she informed and gently tugged Sansa towards the living room. The band retreated to the staircase, raucous laughter echoing through the foyer along the way. Eventually, the laughter faded as they headed down the upstairs hall.
"This is Lexie." Mona pointed to the older blonde haired woman in the low-cut pink dress. She gave a small, distracted wave while digging into her purse.
"And this is Candy." The younger blonde smiled sweetly at Sansa and patted the space next to her on the couch.
"Ladies, this is Sansa. She's with the Hound," Mona announced and resumed her position sprawled out on the chaise lounge.
"Nice to meet you," Sansa greeted shyly. She seated herself carefully next to Candy and tightly crossed her legs. "Is Jerry the manager?" she asked.
"Jerry Vale," Mona confirmed with a nod and paused briefly as she lit the cigarette pressed between her red lips. "He manages all the metal bands worth their salt," she continued on an exhale of smoke.
Scanning the collective looks on Mona, Lexie, and Candy's faces, Sansa gathered that she was supposed to be impressed by this bit of information. She hadn't heard of Jerry Vale before, but feigned a look of understanding, one that left at least Candy and Lexie convinced. Mona flashed a knowing, but kind smile at Sansa.
"Are you his wife?" Sansa asked Mona, a question that elicited giggles from Lexie and Candy.
"No," she shook her head and ashed her cigarette in a heavy ashtray next to her. "Have you seen him? He's short, ugly, and bald."
"He still pulls a lot of tail," Lexie countered before snatching up a wine glass on the table next to her and taking a long sip.
"All thanks to Cannibal Star," Mona laughed. "Jerry gets the hand-me-downs." The woman titled her head back, smoke billowing through her pursed lips.
"Hand-me-downs?" Sansa repeated, brow folding at the term. She clutched the purse on her lap and felt stupid for asking. She didn't know who Jerry was and certainly didn't understand the term, though she could probably guess what it meant.
Slumped back in the couch, Candy rotated her head towards Sansa.
"The girls that get backstage, but none of the guys are interested in. Those girls end up with managers, the road crew, publicists."
"Oh. So why are you all here?"
Sansa winced as soon as the question left her lips. She didn't mean to imply any of these women were "hand-me-downs" and expected at least one of them might be offended that she'd even suggest – inadvertently or otherwise – that they were. Mona and Lexie both looked nonplussed by the question as both now occupied themselves with the cigarettes they smoked. Candy simply held her vapid smile.
"We knew the guys were coming in town," Mona answered. "We're not here for Jerry," she added with a laugh. Sansa laughed along with her, if nothing more than to ease the inexplicable nervousness settling at her belly.
"So, you and the Hound?" Mona quirked one eyebrow suggestively at Sansa and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.
"What's he like in bed?" Lexie pressed. "God, I bet he likes it rough," she speculated, voice like gravel and her words manifesting on something akin to a groan. All three women stared expectantly at Sansa. She lowered her eyes to hands that coiled around the strap of her purse.
"I wouldn't know," she admitted quietly and with a shrug.
"Honey, you haven't fucked him yet?" Mona asked incredulously.
"No," Sansa shook her head and steadied her gaze towards Mona. The woman narrowed her eyes at Sansa, not unkindly, but still it seemed she didn't believe her or, in the very least, something didn't add up in Mona's mind.
"We're taking our time," Sansa explained. "We've only been on a few dates."
"Dates?" Lexie all but reeled and the confusion around the room grew, befuddled looks remaining on all the women's faces.
"So this is something different." Mona shook her head and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.
"Are you with the guys?" Sansa ventured, eyes drifting to each woman. While it'd been made clear they weren't "hand-me-downs", Sansa didn't understand how exactly they fit into Cannibal Star's world.
"I've been with Bronn, Beric, and Thoros. Bronn's my go-to, though" Lexie answered and then shifted a glance to Mona who replied next.
"All, but Sandor."
"Just Harwin," Candy announced with evident pride and a widening smile. "Actually, I think I gave Bronn head once on the way to a Seattle gig." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling in thought about that last bit, as if she couldn't quite remember.
The answers still left Sansa confused. She chewed her lip and cast another glance around the room.
"Are you their girlfriends?"
"Girlfriends?" Mona repeated and abruptly shook her head. "No. Those boys don't usually bed down with one chick. They can't. They're on the road most of the time. I have a full-time job and my own life. I'm not going to throw that all away to follow them on tour." She paused momentarily and looked at Candy. "No offense, sweetie. When they're in town, I show them a good time. Works me, works for them, everyone's happy."
Are they happy, though? Sansa wondered. They certainly looked it, at least for now, but what about later? When the men were gone and they were alone again, would they be happy then? Sansa nodded, as if she understood, but the concept seemed troubling and unnatural to her, and Mona's answer succeeded only in tightening the knot in Sansa's belly.
"I stay here while I finish school," Lexie began. "Bronn goes out on the road. We have an understanding." The emphasis on the last word intimated the meaning. Sansa knew what Lexie was getting at, but could do little to stop the faint look of shock surfacing on her face.
"Look, the tours are long," Lexie asserted. "They don't come home much and when they do, they're beat. I know he fucks other women on the road. He wears protection and I don't ask about it. Out of sight, out of mind. My only stipulation is that when he's in town, he only fucks me."
The room went silent as the women quietly evaluated Sansa's reaction. Under the heaviness of their curious stares, Sansa let out a nervous giggle and turned to Candy.
"What about you and Harwin? It sounds like you two are together."
Sansa cringed at the sheer optimism of her words and immediately understood how incongruent the sentiment was within the context of this conversation. Still, she smiled at Candy, hoping that perhaps her situation wasn't so unconventional as the others.
"About a year ago, I went to a Cannibal Star show in Phoenix," Candy began. "Harwin invited me on the tour bus and asked if I wanted to come with them to Santa Fe. So I did. I traveled with them around the west coast for a month while they wrapped up their tour. Afterwards, I got a job in Chicago so I could be closer to him in between tours."
Given her pleasant countenance and nonchalance, Candy didn't appear miffed by her situation. Sansa willed her smile to remain, though she felt the pity for Candy swell up within her.
"What do you do for a living?" Sansa asked.
"I'm an exotic entertainer," Candy informed proudly, an attempt to brace herself for whatever judgment Sansa might throw at her.
"I see," Sansa nodded. It's rude to be judgmental, she quickly reminded herself. Her mother always told her to add a polite follow-on question in situations like this, a way to tame any awkwardness and reassure the other party that no judgment had been passed. "What's your favorite part of the job?" she asked.
"Hmm," Candy hummed in thought. "I guess it makes me feel sexy and empowered," she shrugged and her answer sounded uncertain, as though she hadn't ever thought much about it and had never been asked either.
Across the room, Mona pushed herself from the chaise and shuffled towards the piano where an uncorked bottle of wine sat.
"Have you ever dated a musician before?" she asked as she refilled her empty wine glass.
"No," Sansa shook her head.
"I figured as much." Mona winked at Sansa and eased herself down into the chaise with a heavy sigh. "You seem like a nice girl, Sansa. Save yourself the heartache and let Sandor know what your boundaries are. Whatever it is you expect from him, put it out on the table in clear terms. He may not agree to those terms, but at least you were upfront from the start."
The sudden advice caught Sansa off guard. She hadn't truly given any of this much thought. It all seemed rather simple: they liked each other, they went on dates, and eventually he'd become her boyfriend. Wasn't that how it worked? Looking around the room, Sansa quickly understood that the rules had been rewritten. Nothing here seemed to work as it normally would.
"That makes sense," Sansa agreed, but her throat felt hoarse and dry. She averted her eyes to her lap again.
"Don't expect much from him outside of the bedroom," Lexie offered sincerely, though Sansa couldn't quite stomach any more well-intentioned advice she hadn't asked for.
"They're sweet, but they're still men," Candy chimed in and lifted both brows at Sansa, as if her vague statement should illuminated everything.
"Men with pussy being thrown at them left and right from beautiful women," Mona added with a loud laugh.
All three of the women then laughed at the same time, as if they all understood the same inside joke. It seemed to Sansa, though, that the joke was at their expense and the price was a broken heart. Perhaps Mona and even Lexie felt in control of their arrangement with certain Cannibal Star members, but clearly Candy was simply along for the ride. She seemed to harbor feelings for Harwin and probably hoped that one day her set-up with him would pay off; that he'd realize what a catch she was and commit to her.
Sansa didn't join in on the laughter and couldn't stop the frown that formed on her lips.
Was that what would happen with Sandor? Would he go on the road and expect her to agree to his terms, whatever those were? The thought left an empty ache in her chest. The women in the room were nice and meant well, but Sansa couldn't imagine herself happy in any of their situations.
"Is there a bathroom around here?" she asked after the laughter waned.
"It's the last door on the right," Mona said and motioned her head towards a hallway extending off the foyer.
Sansa stood from her seat and gave a polite smile before leaving the room. The foyer carried the faint echo of the women whispering as Sansa made her way towards the hallway.
They think I'm naïve, she concluded. And maybe I am.
In contrast to the foyer, the bathroom was bedecked in black marble that covered the floor and walls. Sansa set her purse on the back of the toilet. She turned on sink's gold faucet and let the water run over her hands. She lifted her eyes to the mirror and studied her reflection. She looked nothing like the women in the other room. She didn't wear heavy make-up and her hair wasn't teased. When she left home in a crop top and mini-skirt, Sansa had been convinced her outfit was scandalous and borderline inappropriate. Now, it looked like child's play in comparison to what the other women had on.
Sansa turned off the sink and dried her hands with a towel hanging on the adjacent wall. With her shoulders thrown back, she paid herself another look in the mirror without the burden of comparison. I'm a catch, she thought and smiled. Smart, and sweet, and loyal.
Still, that didn't change the reality that Sandor was in a metal band, one that apparently garnered a lot of attention from women and meant his lifestyle would put him on the road, away from home and traveling for large amounts of time. Sansa watched her smile fade in the mirror. Maybe Sandor thought Sansa understood, that their arrangement was implicit. They'd never talked about where this was going. Whatever they were, it wasn't bound to be normal or to follow the typical set of dating rules. She understood now what Mona meant about establishing expectations and boundaries.
Sansa emerged from the bathroom and heard Mona's laughter drifting from the living room. She stood in the darkened hall, contemplating whether she should go back to where the women were. She found herself caught between two worlds – dissatisfied with the haughty snobbery of her sorority sisters and appalled at the uninhibited acceptance of moral ambiguity that the ladies in the living room favored.
I don't belong to either, Sansa thought and wandered further down the hall towards the room at the end. A small lamp had been left on in there and Sansa found herself in a mostly empty space. A Victorian-style tufted loveseat sat against the far wall with the lamp next to it. Along the walls, framed platinum and gold records hung in rows. Slowly walking the perimeter of the room, Sansa read the band names associated with each record. Most were Cannibal Star, a few from other well-known bands, and a handful were from bands she'd never heard of before.
"What are you doing in here?" Sandor's voice suddenly sounded from behind her.
Sansa spun around and found him leaning against the doorframe with a smile on his lips. His eyes slowly drifted up and down her form, roving over her curves and her bare waist before finally settling on her breasts.
He pushed himself from the doorframe and paced towards her with deliberate steps. When he reached her, Sandor grabbed Sansa by the waist and yanked her towards him. Dipping his head towards her, he almost captured her lips in an intended kiss, but Sansa lowered her head in the space between them. Gently, she pulled away from Sandor, taking a step backwards and letting her eyes fall to the floor. She could feel him staring at her, confused by her sudden rebuff of his affection.
"Sansa, I don't read minds," Sandor said with obvious frustration. "What's going on?"
Play it cool. Not now. Sansa met his insistent stare and tried to feign a smile, but the words bubbled up uncontrollably, bursting through her lips before she could stop them.
"I really like you, but I don't know how this is going to work. I'm not like Lexie and Mona. I'm not going to stay here and just have an understanding when you're on tour. I'm not like Candy. I'm not going to follow you around the country just so you won't sleep with other women."
The words must've come out all in one long, frantic breath. Sansa found herself nearly heaving by the end of it. Her hands trembled so she folded her arms across her chest and shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
She watched Sandor's jaw tense and his Adam's apple move with a heavy swallow, appearing entirely uncomfortable with the conversation that'd hardly started. He shook his head and let out an exasperated laugh, though it did nothing to lighten the mood. It sounded mocking to Sansa's ears and she steeled herself for whatever it was he had to say.
"I know you're not like them," he told her.
She probably should've been satisfied with that, but more words found their way from Sansa's lips, words she swore she would keep in check.
"I don't know what you want from me. If its just sex while you're in town…"
Though weak and timid to begin with, her voice waned to nothingness, tapering off with an incomplete thought. If he just wanted sex, then what? Sansa thought she'd been clear about the "then what" part of it. Perhaps her wonton behavior earlier in the evening had given him the wrong impression. She pulled her arms tighter against her chest and tipped her chin up towards him so she could match his eyes.
"We already had this conversation." He kept his voice down, but Sansa saw the agitation stirring within his countenance and edging his words. She knew he could be crude, but not like this, not defensive and cross. "I told you I want more from you than just to get laid."
Sansa lowered her eyes and sealed her lips shut lest more words flew from her mouth and irritated him further. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have brought it up.
"Is this because I said I want to fuck you?" Sandor demanded. "Or was it something those twats told you?"
When Sansa lifted her eyes, she met his insistent stare, but merely shrugged uncertainly. At the time, Mona's advice seemed solid. Now, Sansa felt ridiculous for having brought it up in such a manner, effectively cornering him with accusatory assertions.
"I shouldn't have brought you here," Sandor grumbled and Sansa wondered if he meant to say it out loud. "Not with them hanging around," he added, but his words still stung. Sansa drew in a sharp breath.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she nodded. "It's late. You should take me home."
Her voice waivered and the lump in her throat burned. I won't cry, she decided, but the tears clung to the corners of her eyes and, when she lowered her gaze to the floor, the tears broke free.
"What is it that you need?" Sandor asked softer than before. He crossed the room and sat at the edge of the loveseat. Resting his elbows on his knees, he cradled his forehead in the palm of one hand. "Commitment? Is that what you want?"
He sounded fatigued now more than angry, at a loss and confounded by the evening's turn of events.
"Eventually," Sansa answered. "We've only been on a few dates."
"Who the fuck cares? I'm not keeping tabs on that," Sandor sighed, head still in his hand. "Commitment. You want me to nail you down, am I right?"
Mouth agape, Sansa narrowed her eyes at Sandor, though he could not see.
"Don't mock me!" she seethed with her own anger. Her fingers curled towards her palm and she pursed her lips. Sandor lifted his head from his palm to look at her. He stared at her momentarily before a sudden smile bloomed across his lips and he chuckled.
"I'm not mocking you, Sansa," he continued, still laughing. He lurched forward and encircled his arms around her hips. He settled back against the loveseat, pulling Sansa onto his lap in the process.
"I want to know. Is that what you want?" he asked again as Sansa squirmed within his hold.
"Stop it!" she insisted, her cheeks flushing red. Her palms pressed against his chest to push him away.
"Not until you tell me." With a devilish smile, Sandor tightened his hold on her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other across her lap until she was wedged against him and unable to move. Sansa wiggled to urge her release, but the effort was futile.
"Yes," Sansa huffed with a pout and settled in his arms. "Is that what you want?"
"Of course," he said as if any notion suggesting otherwise was ridiculous. "You're fucking cute when you're angry," he added with a grin. Sandor lifted the arm from her lap and cupped her cheek. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to hers and slowly parted her lips with his tongue. With her anger dissipating, Sansa surrendered to the kiss. When she finally pulled away, Sansa sat up and repositioned herself on his lap. Straddling him, she rested her hands against his chest.
"Have you been in a relationship before?" she asked.
"Once," Sandor answered with a nod as his hands smoothed up and down her back.
"How long was it?" Sansa wasn't sure if she truly wanted to know. While pleased Sandor wasn't entirely inexperienced in relationships, the thought of him with another elicited small pangs of jealously.
"Three years," he told her and settled his hands around Sansa's waist. "She knew me before Cannibal Star got signed."
"Why'd you break up?" Sansa ventured carefully. Perhaps this was another sore topic for Sandor, something he'd rather not discuss. His face remained impassible as he gave a shrug.
"It just got too hard. Me being on the road, girls being around. She didn't trust that I wouldn't slip up. I never did and I never wanted to. Didn't matter, though. It still fell apart."
"I'm sorry," Sansa whispered, uncertain of what else to say so her eyes drifted to her hands resting against his chest.
"Don't be. I'm not." Sandor leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her lips, unhurried and sweet.
"Sandor," Sansa whispered against his mouth. "I don't want you to sleep with other women, not that I think you would. It's just…that's my boundary. No cheating."
"That's a given," Sandor agreed. "Look, I don't want to see other women," he murmured in the small space between them. "My band mates do it, but it's never been my thing. I only want you. I don't care how hard things get. I'll bust my ass to keep you, little bird, but I need you to trust me. That's the only way this thing is going to work."
The tips of his fingers traced over her collarbone in soft, sweeping motions.
"So you and me – what do you say?" A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stared at her.
"Yeah," Sansa nodded with a smile before settling her head on his shoulder. Sandor held her tightly against his chest and kissed her forehead.
A moment later, the sound of knuckles rapping against the doorframe roused their attention. Sansa sat up and turned to find Thoros standing in the doorway.
"Hey, sorry," he apologized. "You guys ready to go? Bronn and Harwin are staying behind."
"Yeah," Sandor nodded. "We'll meet you outside."
When Thoros disappeared back into the hall, Sansa removed herself from Sandor's lap and gathered up her purse.
"We'll be passing through Winnetka. We can drop you at your place," Sandor offered.
Though Sansa forced a smile and a dull nod, both came crestfallen and with the weighty acknowledgment of what she'd have to face when she got home. She'd already exceeded the shelf life of Arya's lie; whatever it was, it couldn't have bought her this much time. Sansa felt Sandor's hand encircle her wrist and he pulled her towards him.
"Or if you wanted to avoid any Papa Stark lectures tonight, you could come home with me. It'd be nice to have you in my bed tonight and wake up to you in the morning. I'll make you breakfast and take you to school."
Sansa stared up at him. His proposition came sincerely, but the uncertainty lingered, as though he'd been momentarily afflicted with the worry that she might decline. She understood then something she hadn't considered – that Sandor had invested his heart in her too. All the lascivious remarks and the seeming precedent on sex masked something more that'd begun to develop and Sansa could see it in him now as plain as day.
"I'd love that," she smiled and rose to her toes to sweep her lips against his cheek. "I guess it's about time I finally see your place anyhow."
"You guess right," he quipped with a rough laugh and took her hand, his fingers intertwined with her own.
Sandor led the way down the hall and through the foyer. Mona, Lexie, and Candy gathered near the front door to see Thoros and Beric off while Bronn and Harwin descended on another bottle of wine in the living room.
"Excuse me," Sandor grumbled and began towards the door, shouldering past Mona with Sansa's hand still secure in his own.
"You two can stay." Mona lifted one brow and cast a pointed look at Sandor. Sansa didn't fully understand the implicit suggestion, but noticed how Sandor grimaced and glowered at the woman.
"Nope. My girlfriend and I are going home." Sandor squeezed Sansa's hand and pulled her closer to him.
"My mistake," Mona acquiesced with a fading smile and her eyes flickered over Sansa. "Moving up in the world, I see," she added with a wink.
At that, Sandor stepped out onto the porch and led Sansa towards the van.
"Stay away from that one," he cautioned. "She's no good."
A/N:
Per usual, thank you all so much for your patience between updates and for all the love surrounding this story! It means a lot to me :) I hope you enjoyed!