Timeline
This chapter happens at the same time as chapter 11 of "Marriage"
I removed a few sentences of graphical description. Full smut on Ao3, but it's not much of a difference
The wedding ceremony was short, as she had requested. The presence of Jon and Daenerys had come as something of a surprise, but she couldn't complain.
Jaime was the odd man out at the wedding feast, and Arya was happy that he and Sandor had found something to talk about. Sansa was doing her best to fill the uncomfortable silence between her and Jon, but she seemed distracted.
The Queen was talking to Tyrion, but when he left, she turned to look at her and Sandor.
"Do you intend to spend all your wedding night with us?" Daenerys said.
Arya blushed, and she felt Jon tense next to her. She shook her head, unable to speak.
"No, your Grace," Sandor said. "If we may be excused."
The Queen nodded, and Sandor took Arya's hand.
She couldn't look Jon in the eye when they left. She couldn't imagine anything more mortifying than her brother knowing she was going into another room to fuck. Except possibly the Queen's delighted smile as she looked the two of them up and down, and then seeing her mouth the word: enjoy.
"Your brother-" Sandor said when they were in the room.
"The King," she interrupted.
"Said I took advantage of you," he finished.
"You kind of did."
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
"I did not," he said.
She heard anger boiling under the words. She meant it as a tease. He'd taken advantage of his experience and made her want him to despair, but he was thinking of another time in their lives. She knew his feelings on the matter.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was teasing you."
"I could have," he said. "I could have done things to you. Things people thought I'd done before."
Despite his contempt for knights, he had behaved like a true knight from stories while they walked across Westeros, looking for her relatives. He had treated her like the willful child that she was. Even after she had flowered and became a woman.
She took his hand and forced him to look into her eyes.
"Sandor, it's me. I know. You fed me, and kept me safe without asking for anything. You didn't let others have me to get out of a fight even though you were outnumbered. You didn't get mad at me for killing men. You taught me to be better at it. I remember everything we've ever done together."
"Why do you let me touch you?"
His voice twang with despair. She knew that feeling. The tightness in the chest. The racing heartbeat. The need to throw herself in mortal danger to earn salvation. The fear of anything good that happened to her.
"You know why, or you wouldn't be here. We wouldn't be here if you didn't feel the same."
"Aye."
He reached out and cupped her face in a big hand. Arya pressed her cheek in his open palm. She leaned to press her lips on his wrist.
Strange as it was, she loved him with heart, body and soul. He'd been her entire world during harsh times, she wanted to share with him the good times. She planned to add a thousand good memories for every bad memory he had in his childhood home. But until they made it to Clegane Hall, they had to get over their wedding night in Casterly Rock.
She forgot about her plans when his mouth opened hers. He thrust his tongue in her mouth and heat spread through her body like wildfire. She pulled him toward the bed. They stumbled their way through the unfamiliar room, kissing and groping.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping her standing between his legs. She tried to push him backwards, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her cleavage. Her breasts were squeezed at the top by the tight lacing, and she finally got the reward for surviving in Sansa's uncomfortable dress. His beard chafed against her skin as his lips and tongue explored her with delicious fervor. The sound of his hungry growls drove her crazy. She wanted him to fill her where she was wet and aching.
He was trying to undo her lacing at the back without much success.
"Should we wait one more night?" she asked teasingly.
He looked up at her, with lust in his eyes and a wicked smile on his lips.
"It's your fault," she said. "Your games unleashed a monster."
He put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her forward into a devastatingly heated kiss that left her breathless.
"You have my word that I won't fuck you until you ask," he said, breathing almost as heavily as her. "You did it to me last night, let's see if you can resist."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Yes," he said, and jerked down the front of the dress. Her breasts popped up above the cleavage.
As far as challenges went, Arya was sure she did not want to win this time. Not when he sucked on her nipples hard, making her dizzy with desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her back, offering her breasts to his hungry mouth and hands. He bit and licked and kissed her skin, he squeezed and kneaded and crushed her breasts, he pinched and rolled and sucked her nipples. Her chest was red, wet, and throbbing. Much like another part of her he hadn't even touched yet.
As if he read her thought, his hands began exploring the underside of her dress. It was a frilly thing, with lots of skirts underneath to make it look voluminous, but he found his way into her small clothes in no time.
"You liked that," he said in a low, raspy voice while he dipped his fingers in her wet pussy.
She didn't get a chance to answer because he began circling her clit with his fingers. Arya moaned, and started shaking when he found the perfect pressure and speed. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, whispering his name when she came.
He held her in his arms until she came back to herself.
"You let me finish," she said. "That wasn't very smart."
"I'm not that smart."
She claimed his lips in a soft kiss that became more and more passionate with each heartbeat.
"Yes, you are. The more you give me, the more I want."
His smile lit up the room. He really had no idea how handsome he was.
"I want to be yours," she said.
"Are you asking me to fuck you?"
"Yes."
"Then get out of this dress," he said, and tried to work on the lacing again.
Frustrated, he reached down her leg, looking for the Valyrian steel dagger she had strapped to her shin.
Arya put her hand on his. "I think the dress should stay on. For practical reasons."
He raised an eyebrow.
She disentangled herself from his embrace, and flopped on the bed next to him. Her breasts spilled obscenely over the top of her dress. He leaned over her and resumed playing with them. She lost her train of thought looking at his shaggy head pressed against her chest. That mouth of his drove her crazy when he talked, and crazier when he was using it on her skin.
He raised his head enough so he could look her in the eye when he asked in a muffled voice.
"What's the practical reason?"
"Sansa pointed out…" She sighed when his hand reached under her dress again. She gathered her courage and fought to focus on speaking when his fingers burrowed under her small clothes. "… that people might get the wrong idea if they found blood in the room."
He raised his head, but kept fingering her. "What sort of stupid thing is that to say?"
"Actually… There's something I have to tell you."
She closed her eyes when he reached a spot inside her that made her see stars. She put her hand on his wrist, and gently pushed away.
"Arya? What's wrong?" he asked cupping her face.
"The dress has enough fabric underneath to soak the blood."
"Arya?"
"You know how you insisted to bring me back to Winterfell? Well… that hasn't changed."
His eyebrows knotted, then the realization hit him. He scrutinized her face, weighing her words.
"You're not joking," he said.
"Of course not!"
He looked at her in silence for a long time. The intensity in his eyes made her shiver. He pressed his lips on her forehead.
"Gonna hurt you," he whispered.
"I know," she said hurriedly. "I want this. Want you."
He might not have had much experience with virgins, but there was that first time, when Gregor made him rape a girl. She needed him to know there was a world of difference between that nightmare act and what was happening with them.
"I'm not sorry," he said hoarsely. "I want it to hurt. Want you to feel you're mine."
Her sigh of relief turned into a whimper of need. His raspy voice did things to her as much as his fingers or his tongue. It made her writhe with need. She'd welcome the pain that came with him.
"Please," she said. "Don't want to wait any more. Please."
"The dress stays on," he said.
He pinched her nipple between his lips before standing up. Arya watched him take off his shirt with steady, measured gestures. It wouldn't do to get blood on his clothes, but he was annoyingly calm.
"If you fold the shirt, I'll scream," she warned him.
The words caught in her throat when he unlaced his breeches. Two dozen candles lit the room as if it was daytime, yet she craned her neck to see even better. She knew his cock with her eyes, hands and mouth, but she felt like she was going to see it for the first time. He took off his trousers, and stood fully naked in front of her. The shadow of a smile quirked his lips. His hardened cock rose higher under her eager gaze.
"Fucking hell," she whispered.
The low growl in his throat resonated in her body. That was getting too much. He could turn her on without even touching her.
He knelt between her legs, and started uncovering her, layer by layer. He pushed up the brocade dress, then worked his way systematically through the white linen skirts underneath. She was panting like she'd been running for miles. When she felt the cool air on her skin, she shut her eyes tightly.
His fingers trailed at the edge of her panties, then over them, down between her legs where the fabric was soaking wet. She barely heard the sound of her dagger being unsheathed over the noise of her heavy breathing.
She felt the coolness of the steel over her hipbone for a moment, before he sliced through the fabric in one swift move. He did the same on the other side and he leaned over her. He took advantage of his height to suck at her nipple while he reached down her leg to put the dagger back in its sheath.
His hands were now free to roam over her partially uncovered body. Arya arched up to help him remove the scrap of fabric remaining from her panties. He skimmed over her folds with his fingers, as if making sure he was welcome. She had no idea how much longer she could stand the anticipation.
"Not gonna stop," he said. "Even when it'll hurt."
She nodded enthusiastically, spreading her legs wide to accommodate his body. She knew how to ignore pain, but this time, she didn't want to. She wanted to feel it all.
He advanced without another word. Pleasure flooded her body while he moved slowly, giving her time to adjust. There was no pain until suddenly, there was. The piercing pain was nothing like being stabbed and yet, the contrast with the intense pleasure brought tears to her eyes. She dug her fingers in his back, and held her breath, not wanting to ask him to stop. She put her forearm over her mouth to stop from screaming. He hesitated at her muffled grunt, but proceeded.
"So fucking tight you are."
His thickened voice and heavy breathing released a timid wave of heat inside her. Soon, the pain blended with pleasure when he started rocking his hips back and forth slowly. Her climax built up hesitantly, faint in comparison to the many others he had offered her. And yet, being at one with him filled her with joy. She was his, and nothing could change that.
He kept his movements slow, but he stayed inside her longer with each thrust. Her inner muscles tightened around his cock, squeezing him, burning with pleasure and lingering pain.
"Fuck." He stayed buried inside her for a long time, tremors coursing through his body. "Fucking hell," he whispered hotly, as if he lost an inner battle. "Hold on," he said, and his hips began moving until he lost himself with her name on his lips.
He collapsed next to her, and gathered her to his chest. She nestled into him, and relished the mixture of satisfaction and restlessness in her body.
They had slept close to each other many nights. She knew the pattern of his breathing before falling asleep. Long ago, she waited for it planning to kill him. He was wide awake, something spinning around in his mind. Whatever it was, his silence annoyed her.
"What?" she asked.
He ruffled her hair. "You, in a dress… I'm going to like it."
"You're not going to expect me to wear dresses all the time, I hope."
"Not all the time," he said. "Can't imagine you sparring in a dress."
She perked up. She hadn't sparred in years. In the Arbor, all she managed to do was her water dancing practice alone in her room. Running the castle, overseeing the fleet, and all the other hundreds of little things expected of lady Redwyne had left her no time to sneak out wearing another face and spar like a free person. Lady Clegane was going to be free to do so many things she had denied herself over the years.
"Do you still spar?"
"Not really. I taught the boys how to fight, but I don't fight them. You can be the Master at Arms."
"I can teach them water dancing."
She elbowed him in the ribs when he puffed in mock disdain.
"Speaking of the boys… I think we should take in girls, too."
He turned to look at her. "Just how far ahead have you planned?"
"Now that you ask… I have some plans. When I visited the Keep, and I heard you're already training boys… made me think. Once you told me you considered crossing the Narrow Sea and joining the Second Sons. That's an option for someone who is already a seasoned fighter. We can do something here, for children who have nothing. We can teach boys and girls, not just how to fight, but also how to read, how to survive."
She had other plans, as well. Before leaving the Arbor, she had promised to go with the Redwyne ships to Essos at least once each year, to negotiate conditions in the Free Cities. She was going to enjoy having him at her side during the negotiations.
His eyes sparkled. She didn't remember when she last saw that expression on his face. Pride. And hope. For as long as she'd known him, all they had done was survive from one day to the next. Now they could dare to believe in a future.
"I'd like that," he said with the shadow of a smile on his face.
"And I'll give you private water dancing lessons."
"You bloody won't."
"I have to thank you somehow for all the things you taught me," she said, and rolled on top of him.
She kissed him before he made any other protests. He wrapped his arms around her and roaming over her back while he allowed her to kiss him. His fingers worked the lacing until the dress opened.
"Take it off," he said.
She kissed him one more time before sliding off his body. She shed the dress to the floor. She was naked except for the dagger at her ankle. She bent to undo the straps.
"Leave it on," he said, and pulled her back in bed.