Author's note: It's been a long time coming, but this chapter is pure smut. If you're not into that, you can skip to the next chapter without missing any plot points. If you are into it, and you like it, let me know!

You're mine," he had growled, and Maud's body had melted to her core. She let him drag her to his room, those words reverberating in her mind with every step.

What was this power he had over her? Even the feeling of his giant hand on hers made her tingle.

When they reached his room - a small, cramped affair, but neither cared right now - Sandor kicked the door closed behind him, eyes dark with hunger.

Wordlessly, he reached for Maud and she stood on tiptoes to kiss him fiercely, his hand grabbing a fist of her hair, hers on his back, trying desperately to feel him through the layers of fur. He noticed with a huffed laugh and tore their lips apart for long enough to peel off the thick coat and his leather doublet. Maud smiled in satisfaction before kissing him again, feeling the heat of his back and the heavy muscles.

His tongue was in her mouth and she remembered with a thrill when he had used his tongue on other parts of her. Maud wondered if he'd do it again. She'd like that, but more than anything she just wanted to fuck Sandor. She'd been dreaming of it for years and now she was here and he was willing...she wasn't going to pass it up. She ground her groin against him.

A predatory noise erupted from Sandor's throat, as the friction almost pushed him over the edge. Impatiently, he fumbled with her tunic, stopping the kiss for long enough to pull it over her head. With one hand, he removed his own shirt, then groaned as Maud's mouth went to his chest, teeth experimentally scraping over one of his nipples. Her hand started on his chest, running through the downy dark fur that coated his skin, down his stomach.

Sandor pulled back as Maud's hand went to the ties on his trousers and she made a noise of frustration. He tried not to smirk. By the Seven, he wanted to pounce on this woman. He kicked his boots off, then placed his hands on Maud's shoulders, forcing her to sit on the bed. When she complied, he removed her boots and thick wooden socks. She cringed at the cold of the stone floor under her feet.

He grunted, as he suddenly remembered to lock the door. The task only took a matter of seconds, but when he turned back, Maud had shed her trousers and was in the process of removing her undergarments. Seeing him looking, she kept eye contact as she slipped her coverings off her breasts and down her legs.

"Gods, woman!" Sandor hissed. In two steps he had covered the distance between them. She laid back on her elbows and wondered what had come over her to make her so bold, but then all thoughts left her head as he put a knee on the bed and bent down to kiss her fiercely, one hand fisting her hair. The other hand went to his own trousers and he tugged them loose before his cock could strain out. He'd been aroused since their kiss, and her teasing had not helped at all. He pumped his cock twice, feeling it twitch, before reaching down to Maud.

At his touch, she willingly parted her legs and whimpered into his mouth as he experimentally stroked a finger down her wet folds. She shuddered as his calloused finger caressed her, blushing slightly as she realised how slick she had gotten. He realised too, inserting one then two fingers inside her core. He was pleased, and a little surprised, to feel the juice on his fingers. "Fuck, you're wet," he reveled, moving his fingers in tiny, teasing strokes. She wriggled and made to reach for his cock, but his other hand left her hair and clamped down. "Later," he said, his voice dark with lust.

To her disappointment, he removed his hands from her and she felt empty. He pushed his trousers down, then grabbed Maud's legs, positioning them just so. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded faintly. I've been ready for years, she thought.

With one push of his hips, he sheathed his cock, and her world broke. She'd known his length, his girth, but when he was in her and stretching so beautifully against her walls...she'd never felt contentment like it. For a second he held still, and she wanted more. He rolled his hips, pushing himself in further before teasing out and she bucked her hips in response.

He bit his lip to stifle a groan as he pushed himself further into her wet warmth. By the Gods, she was like a vice around him. How long had it been since he'd had someone by the cunt? Years. He seemed to remember the whore talking about Ned Stark's death.

Thoughts of Ned Stark left his head as Maud raised one of her legs, placing her heel in the small of his back. He winced at the cold of her foot, until she used that foot to hook him closer, acting as a piston. The sweet friction as he slid into her made him grip the flesh of her hips, and in some corner of her mind she wondered if she would have bruises the next day. But that thought was fleeting and disappeared with his next thrust, as he filled her again and again.

It took mere seconds for the two of them to reach a rhythm and Maud had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning as Sandor became more confident with his thrusts. She wanted to run her fingers down his back, bite his nipples, grope the twin globes of his toned arse, but she couldn't reach. Desperate for more contact, she removed her hands from where they were bunched in the sheets, one grabbing his hand on her hip.

His hair hung in his face as he rocked into her and his world melted to nothing, the long night be damned - there was just him and Maud and the tiny little noises she'd begun to make without realising. He wished he could stay buried balls deep in her forever, but far too soon he realised he was reaching his end. Maud realised too, as his thrusts became more frantic, and experimentally clenched her walls tight around him, making him a part of her. He roared, eyes aflame, and his fingers almost crushed her hipbone as in one move he pulled out and wrapped one hand around his cock.

Maud didn't even have time to whimper at the loss of sensation before he spilled his seed over her stomach, cursing all of the Seven and every other God he could think of. His breath was coming almost in pants, hair over his face, and there was a twitch in his lip of something (release, she decided).

Tossing his hair out of his face, he turned and reached for his discarded shirt. Carefully, more gently than she knew the man could be, he wiped the pearly white seed off her midsection and she stifled a giggle at the sensation. He heard the noise and raised his face to look at her, eyebrows knitted.

He thought she was laughing at him, at what had happened, Maud realised with a start. "It tickles," she said nodding to her stomach by way of explanation. Then she almost punched herself. In all her fantasies, dreams of Sandor making her his, she'd never imagined her first words after to be 'it tickles'. She'd imagined she would be cool and collected while he collapsed beside her. But when did Sandor ever lose his cool? He was as sure and still as stone, and just as dependable.

He didn't respond, just finished cleaning her up and wadded the shirt into a ball, throwing it in the corner. He didn't know what to do or say - at this point he normally tossed a few coins on the bed or in the whore's hand and left. He wasn't one for...aftercare. He pulled her trousers back up and buttoned them in silence.

Maud noticed the change and sat up. "You must be tired after...everything. You should get some sleep. Do you want me to leave?" Say no, she pleaded. No, you want me to stay.

He bit his tongue. Maiden help him, he didn't know what to do. "Do what you like," he said, shortly, to hide his discomfort.

Her eyes pierced through his armour. The sex had been good, she knew that much. She might not have reached her release but she had been damned close and in time she'd be confident enough to ask for what she wanted, if he couldn't give it. That was...if there was a next time. She wanted there to be. She wanted to feel his hands on her and his cock in her every day for the rest of her life.

"I'll stay," she said, with a boldness she couldn't quite own. "For the evening." She didn't wait for his reply, slipping on her small clothes and moving back on the bed so her head was on the pillow.

Sandor was relieved. "Aye, fine," he responded. He sat on the bed, his head spinning. Gods, he wanted some wine. He needed to settle his fucking nerves. But there was no wine, so he lay down beside Maud in the small bed.

Maud shuffled so her head was on his chest, the soft hair that coated it tickling her nose. She could feel his heartbeat slow from a pound. Hesitantly, he moved his left arm, wrapping it over her and holding her close to him. He stroked her arm single mindedly until she began to doze off. Despite his bone-weariness he felt something he hadn't felt for a long time. It wasn't until just before sleep took him that he realised. He felt happy.