A/N: Just one note this time. The quote from Shae that Sansa remembers is originally told to her by Cersei Lannister during the Blackwater Battle, so if it seems familiar, that's why. I just changed who said it because in this story, Cersei isn't exactly around. This chapter marks the end of the SanSan sexual tension, and we all know what that means. Also, there's a bit of The Bear and the Maiden Fair in here, but I switched it around so it made more sense, so yeah. Just changed that a bit. Anyway, enjoy reading. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. It all belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin.
Rating: M for strong language, sexual content, and the consumption of alcohol.
"Up." The command was growled with a slight drunken slur and accompanied by a rough nudge in the side with an iron boot. Sansa jumped at the contact and sat up, rubbing her eyes. After collecting herself and absently brushing her fingers through her tangled hair, she looked up at the man who stood towering over her and gave him a small smile.
"Good morning, my lord."
A day past, she had been angry at him, and hurt. But, the story of his burns had changed that. In fact, it had only made her feelings for him grow stronger. That he trusted her enough to tell her of his past spoke volumes more than his inaction when she had kissed him. Goodness knows she would've been just as hesitant if he tried to do something like that before she was ready.
"I'm not a lord," Sandor grumbled, trudging away when he was sure that she was awake.
Sansa frowned in confusion, watching him go. After what had transpired between them, she thought they would be closer if anything, but now he was acting distant and cold. She didn't think she could take another day passed in sullen silence. Not again, and not now.
Scrambling to her feet, she brushed off her dress and hurried after him, stepping over the empty wine bottle that was lying beside the remnants of the fire. "Lord Clegane!"
Sandor turned with a scowl and then looked back toward Stranger when Sansa found herself staring at his burns, uncertain of what to say.
"We're going," he said shortly.
Sansa felt tears welling up in her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to run to him, to shake him, tell him to talk to her, tell him how desperately she needed him, that he would see as much if he just looked. Instead, she took a deep breath and forced her lip to stop trembling as she stepped out into the clear morning air. She stood beside Sandor while he loaded the saddlebags, squinting up toward the sun.
"To Dawnstar?" Sansa asked coldly, trying to keep her voice from betraying the emotions that raged inside her.
"Yes," came the curt reply. "We'll stay overnight and then leave in the morning. We should be to Windhelm in a few days." She heard him add a muttered, "Good riddance," under his breath and it took every bit of self-control she possessed not to scream. Or kiss him again. Or both.
She nodded and defiantly tried to get herself up onto Stranger's back without the Hound's help, tensing slightly when she felt his hands around her waist. He lifted her up and then motioned her backwards with a wave of his hand as he done the day before. Sansa didn't say anything, but slowly wrapped her arms around Sandor's chest, closing her eyes to try and clear of them of any remaining tears as the sellsword's courser started off again at a trot.
The time passed quickly as she lost herself in her own thoughts and when Stranger's hooves stopped setting the steady clip clop that had saved the pair from complete silence over the last hour of travel, Sansa glanced around the broad shoulders of the man in front of her to see that he had steered them off of the road and into the heavy snow that covered the path down to Dawnstar.
She admired the town around them as they rode down and then shifted in the saddle when Sandor swung down onto the ground and tied Stranger to a post outside the inn, waiting for him to lift her down. He looked around with a scowl and then walked into the inn, leaving her behind. "I'll get a room."
Her breathing labored and her eyes welling with tears, Sansa watched him go, feeling as if she'd been punched in the gut.
Slowly sliding down off of Stranger's back and into the snow, she patted the horse's neck and murmured softly in his ear when he bent his head to nuzzle her hand. Sandor had always been surprised by how affectionate the courser was around her. She only wished she could say the same for his owner.
A young man walked past her as she wandered down into the heart of the town and she smiled warmly at him, earning a smile in return. He never smiles at me, she thought bitterly. I deserve better. As much as she tried to make herself believe that, she knew that she would never want any better. Because she'd never want anyone else.
By the time she cleared her troubled mind and stopped walking, she found herself standing beside a forge. There was a Nord who appeared to be a few years older than Sandor working it, so concentrated on the task at hand that he didn't notice her presence. Smiling, she stepped into his field of vision and watched him for a moment before speaking.
"Is this your forge?"
The man looked up and nodded as he pushed a lock of thick white hair from his eyes. "Aye. My wife Seren and I run it together." He shook his head and added with a smile, "She still smiths even though we found out she is with child. I think it helps her keep her mind off the fact that our son or daughter isn't going to get much Redguard culture here in Skyrim. I know my wife worries how she will pass along her traditions." He looked Sansa over for a moment then frowned slightly. "You look like a traveler...if you find a book called Night Falls on Sentinel, could you bring it to me? It's a story from my wife's people. Be good to have."
Sansa frowned and wracked her brain for a moment. "Night Falls on Sentinel? Is that the one about Jomic and Haballa?" She couldn't remember for certain, but thought that perhaps it was among the books she had taken with her from King's Landing. It had always been one of her favorites, and she couldn't stand to let it burn.
The blacksmith shrugged and Sansa nodded. "Yes. I'll get it for you. In fact, I think I have a copy on me...do you mind waiting for a moment?"
He shook his head and laughed. "I've been waiting for a long time, girl, and I have another few moons before I need it, so yes, I think I can wait a moment."
Smiling broadly, Sansa nodded and told him she'd be right back before lifting her skirts up to her ankles so she could hurry back up through the snow toward where Sandor had tethered Stranger. She checked the horse to see if the saddlebags were still on him before entering the inn and heading for the bar.
"Good day, ser. My sworn shield just came in and purchased a room for us. Could you tell me which one it is?"
The innkeeper nodded and gestured toward the room nearest where she was standing, to the left. "I offered this one, m'lady. If it does not suit your needs, I can move you."
Sansa smiled and shook her head. "There's no need for that. You've been very kind. Thank you." She offered a shallow curtsey before walking into the room and avoiding Sandor's gaze as he promptly got up from the chair he was in and brushed past her.
Sansa watched him leave, her jaw set in frustration. If he still hadn't spoken to her by the time they got the chance to be alone that night, she would find a way to force him to. Unbidden, something that Shae had once told her came to mind. "Tears are not a woman's only weapon. You've got another one between your legs and you'd best learn to use it." Sansa blushed and hastily pushed the thought aside. Kissing him had been improper enough. And yet...
Rummaging through her things, she pulled out the book that had been asked for and flipped through it for a moment before standing up and walking back out into the common room. When she walked back into the village, she noticed Sandor's familiar footsteps in the snow and followed them for a short distance before branching off to return to the blacksmith.
"Is this the one your wife wanted, ser?"
The Nord paused in his work and wiped his hands off on the leather apron he was wearing before taking the book from her and nodding. "Aye. Don't know what the Redguards see in books, but this will make my Seren happy. Thank you." He hesitated and then shrugged. "Here, let me show you some tricks around the forge. It's the best I can offer as payment."
Sansa accepted the offer with a laugh and stood before the forge, allowing him to settle a bit behind her and put a hand over hers to guide her movements. With his assistance, she helped him finish the sword he had been crafting and when she stepped aside with a laugh, her gaze swept out past the lake and she saw Sandor standing not too far off, a look of anger twisting his unburnt features as he stared in her direction. As he caught her gaze, he raised the bottle of wine in his hand up to his lips and stalked off.
Sansa narrowed her eyes and steeled her resolve.
Tonight...something will change.
Sansa spent the day out in the town, speaking with the townsfolk and spending a few hours in a new museum that had been constructed. She didn't see Sandor again, and when she returned to the inn at sunset, he wasn't in the common room where she had expected him to be.
Walking to their room, Sansa opened the door and met Sandor's gaze where he sat in the chair in the corner, another bottle of wine in hand. When she stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her, he quickly stood and moved toward the door, his jaw visibly clenching when she remained where she was, blocking his exit.
She stared up at him, brow furrowed as she considered what it was she intended to do. She couldn't stand another second of him being so distant. With the exception of their last night together, he'd barely looked at her, let alone spoken with her in two days.
"My lord," she began. "I...If I somehow...offended you..."
She hesitated then stepped forward, suddenly self-conscious and insecure. This had all sounded better in her head.
Her hand raised toward him and her fingers brushed softly against the burned flesh of his throat, ghosting upwards until her palm cradled his scarred cheek. She wanted so badly to tell him how much she had grown to care for him, but she was afraid of what his reaction might be. If he even chose to answer.
When he slowly met her gaze, all she could see in his eyes was the reflection of her own, filled with fear and hesitant desire. The muscles in his neck moved as he swallowed and her heart leapt to her throat as she caught the look in his deep grey eyes. He wants me. Suddenly, it all made sense.
Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots but she managed to quietly get out what she hoped he wanted to hear. "You can...kiss me...if you like..." Just the thought made her heart beat faster. She had never felt this way before, and as she held his stare, she wondered if this was how it felt to be in love.
"If I like?" Sandor's voice was low and rough when he spoke and he laughed sharply. "Bloody hell, girl...Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
A rosy blush crept up to Sansa's cheeks and she smiled softly, her hand caressing the burned side of his face as the other fell to twine their fingers together. Her eyes met his again as he unconsciously moved into her touch and she swallowed down the lump in her throat. They were eyes she could drown in.
He continued to stare at her for a moment and then before she had the time to do anything, he grabbed her around the waist and crushed his lips to hers in a rough and passionate kiss. She gasped against his mouth before falling into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, allowing his tongue the access it sought for. It's a bit clumsy, she thought absently, and her stomach fluttered as she wondered if she had been the first to ever kiss him. Whether she had been or not, she didn't really care. It was perfect.
Her hands clung tightly to his broad shoulders and when he pulled her body flush against his, Sansa sighed softly into their kiss, sliding one of her hands down his back. Her touch elicited a low growl from Sandor and she was slammed up against the wall before she had the time to process what he was doing. It was all moving too fast for her to collect her thoughts, but she knew that even if she was able to, nothing would change. Somehow, in spite of everything, she knew this was what she wanted.
When he bent down to kiss her neck, she moaned against his ear, fisting her hands in his long hair and blushing furiously.
Gods, I sound like a heathen, not a lady.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Sandor chuckled. "You're supposed to make those sounds, little bird. Don't think about being a lady right now." He trailed his lips up her jaw and whispered lowly beside her ear. "I'm going to fuck you. Don't think about anything but that."
A quiet and somewhat nervous laugh escaped her lips and she teasingly murmured against his chin, rough with a day's worth of stubble. "What happened to me being worth more if I was still a maiden?"
Sandor snorted and nuzzled his unburnt cheek against her neck. "Fuck that too."
She smiled at him, but her stomach twisted in nervous apprehension. She didn't know what he was going to do to her, not truly, and she couldn't shake the memories of what Septa Mordane had always taught her. Her thoughts were interrupted as Sandor lifted her and tossed her onto the bed, earning a gasp of surprise. He looked down at her for a long moment, chest heaving, before climbing on top of her. He straddled her hips as he brought his hands up to the top of her gown and ripped it clear down to her stomach.
Sansa gasped and he ignored the sound as he made short work of her corset, tossing it aside. She felt as though she were in one of the racy stories she and Jeyne Poole had blushed and giggled over as children.
"Sandor..."
Although it was used as a chastisement for his treatment of her dress, finally using his given name sent a pleasant shiver down her spine and she could feel his body react when she said it. His eyes raked down along her newly exposed torso and his eyebrow lifted slightly when she quietly repeated his name.
"Hm?"
"I..." She blushed and bit her lip. "I...umm...I've never...done this before..."
Sandor laughed and lifted his gaze back up to her face. "I know that, little bird."
Embarrassed by his amusement at her innocent confession, her blush deepened and she looked away, running a finger down along the laces of his tunic. "But, I don't know...what to do..." I don't know how to please you.
Turning his dark eyes toward her, Sandor placed one of his large hands flat on her stomach and slid it slowly up, cupping her left breast and running his thumb lightly over her nipple. "I can teach you what you want to know, little bird. In fact, we can teach each other. But for now, you'll know what to do when the time comes."
She moaned when his thumb and forefinger tugged gently, but still tried to speak. "I...oh...S-Sandor...how many women..." Sansa threw her head back against the pillow and arched her back, crying out when his lips found their target.
"You should stop talking, little bird," Sandor murmured, and she acquiesced after a moment, letting herself drown in the intoxicating smell of dirt, sweat, and sweet red wine that she'd come to know so well.
Does he treat all his whores like this? Try as she might to forget everything but the feel of Sandor's lips against her bare skin, her mind was eager to remind her that she wasn't the first woman he'd been with.
"Stop," she gasped, and Sandor pulled away, looking down at her with a confused and slightly apprehensive expression.
I'm not the only one.
She tugged at the bottom of his tunic and when he helped her pull it over his head, she ran a hand down along his chest. It was heavily muscled as was the rest of him and covered in dark hair that trailed down beneath the line of his trousers. She could feel her skin growing hot just looking at him and the unburnt side of his mouth curved into a smirk.
"You've been with women before..." She found herself whispering.
Sandor sighed and his smile faded as he ran his thumb along her jaw. "No little bird. I've been with whores. There's a difference."
"But they—"
He shook his head and leaned down to silence her with a deep, open-mouthed kiss. "Don't think about them. I know I'm damned well not. I'm with you, Sansa," he murmured huskily. "Only you."
When he said her name, she felt a sudden and surprising rush of moisture between her thighs. "Say that again..." she breathed, staring into the depths of his eyes. It was the first time he had used it, and she loved the way that it sounded on his lips.
He must have known what she meant because when he lowered his mouth back down to hers, he murmured it against her lips. "Sansa..." Her neck. "Sansa..." Jaw. "Sansa..." Looking into her eyes, he smiled roguishly and slid his rough hands further up the inside of her legs. "So you like that, eh?"
She blushed and nodded, replying in a breathless gasp. "Yes..."
Her breathy admission of how he made her feel seemed to spur him back into action and he growled low in his throat as he pawed at what remained of her gown. Sansa blushed and continued her hesitant exploration of his bare chest as he snarled in frustration, but her naïve curiosity as she looked up at him seemed to slow him down a bit. His grey eyes bore into her as her fingers ghosted gently across the scars on his chest.
"How did you get them all?" she asked in a whisper.
"Ask me later, little bird," came the gruff reply as he managed to work her dress off over her hips. Her smallclothes were hastily added to the floor a moment later and Sandor exhaled slowly, his eyes wide and dark as they took in every inch of exposed skin. "Gods, Sansa...you're perfect..."
The haze of desire in his eyes made her feel strangely powerful and she brought her fingers down to Sandor's trousers, blushing as he inhaled sharply. Deftly untying the laces, she left him to push them and his smallclothes onto the floor once they were undone.
Trying her hardest not to stare, she chewed on her bottom lip and turned her head as Sandor chuckled. "Have you never seen a man naked before, little bird?"
"No," she stammered. "I mean, yes, in King's Landing, but..." She smiled timidly and looked back up into his eyes. "Not you."
His eyebrow rose slightly. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."
When she smiled shyly and nodded, he moved his hands to her hips and slowly, almost hesitantly lowered his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing his way across her ribs and down her stomach. The burned side of his mouth felt strange, but every time it brushed against her skin the pool of heat in her lower belly was stoked further and she watched him carefully as his lips neared the inside of her thighs. His ministrations seemed almost shy and Sansa gave him a weak smile of encouragement when he looked up at her. In response, his mouth landed squarely between her legs and she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as she shook her head.
She sighed and squealed and kicked the air.
As he licked the honey, from her hair!
"Sandor, wait." When she had his attention, she bit her lip and blushed. "Make love to me." As her blush crept down to her chest and turned her cheeks a deeper shade of red, Sandor nodded slowly and moved back up. His hands found her hips and when he tried to turn her over, she stopped him and shook her head again.
"I want to see you." The fact that he would think she would prefer not to see his face made her heart ache and she brought a hand up to rest lightly against his burned cheek.
Sandor looked confused for a moment before letting her go and allowing her to settle onto her back beneath him. Sansa watched him as he situated himself comfortably and then whispered quietly. "Please be gentle..." Though her body craved the contact she knew was coming, she had been told time and time again in her youth that it would be painful, and she didn't want to go through any more unpleasantness than necessary.
He looked down at her with an almost pained expression, but nodded again and loosened his grip on her waist. When he tucked one of her legs inside his own, she placed a hand on his chest and looked up into his deep grey eyes. "Sandor..."
His voice was a deep rumble when he spoke and she tensed slightly as she felt him between her thighs. "Yes, little bird?"
She smiled softly in a weak attempt to reassure them both. "I trust you."
He nodded in acknowledgment and took a deep, shaky breath before pushing inside of her, his large body flush with hers. Her body accepted him more readily than she had anticipated, but the tension that belied her nervousness created a sharp ache that made her gasp nonetheless.
Sandor's fists clenched where they rested by her shoulders and he slowly opened his eyes to meet her gaze. "Are you okay?"
Sansa hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and trying to relax as much as her muscles would allow. As she did, Sandor's hips jerked inadvertently and he swore under his breath, his forehead beading with sweat as he hovered motionless over her. "I can't...I need to..." His jaw clenched and he looked down at her in desperation.
Steeling her nerves, Sansa smiled and leaned up to give him a quick kiss, a foreign sensation fluttering through her lower body at the momentary shift in position. "I'll be alright. Keep going."
As soon as he had her permission, Sandor moved inside her, his eyes screwing shut and a rush of air blowing out through his flared nostrils. "Gods, Sansa," he groaned, his movements evening as he established a rhythm. "Your cunt feels too damn good. I won't last long."
She let out a quiet moan as his pelvis brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. "Then just let go."
Nodding, he dropped his head to her shoulder and increased his pace, his fists clenching and unclenching as he grunted and swore. "Fuck...By the Divines, Sansa. They made your body for this."
Even as he said it, she felt the beginnings of some strange pull deep in her core, and she gasped at the surprisingly pleasant sensation. Before she could tell him to keep going, his hips jerked fully against her, sliding deeper and drawing gasps from them both. An impressive string of curses escaped between his clenched teeth and after a few hard thrusts, he moved to pull out. Impulsively, Sansa wrapped her legs tightly around his waist at the last moment, pulling him even deeper inside her.
His eyes widened at the movement and he opened his mouth to protest, but Sansa shook her head. He slowed for a moment of indecision before accepting the look of determination in her eyes and pushing back in, her name torn from his lips in a hoarse shout as she felt him spill his seed inside her.
When he stopped trembling, Sansa allowed her legs to fall apart and he collapsed beside her, one arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her to him.
Sansa moved willingly into his side and curled against him, one leg draped over both of his and her head resting against his heaving chest. A dull ache had settled between her thighs, and she knew she would be sore in the morning, but she found that she didn't mind. As unladylike as she supposed it was, she had rather enjoyed the "duty" that her mother and Septa Mordane had always vaguely informed her of. Though it hadn't been the most pleasant sensation, she liked knowing that she was the one who brought the man beside her to his current state. And there had been something, some distant feeling that made her believe it could be pleasurable, if perhaps they tried again.
After a few minutes of silence, his hand tightened its hold on her slightly and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that you didn't-"
Sansa cut him off with a gentle kiss and shook her head. "Don't apologize."
Nodding, he gave a tired grunt in reply and closed his eyes again. Just as his breath began to even and his frame relaxed, Sansa shifted and looked down at him, a small smile on her face.
"Sandor..."
One eye cracked open slightly and he raised his eyebrow. "Yes, little bird?"
Her lips found his and she gave him a lingering kiss, her forehead resting gently against his. "I love you."
