Author Note:

More mature content awaits you. I am trying very hard to keep things believable between these two. Be sure to tell me if I accomplished that.

After her morning bath Sansa found herself wondering how to fill her day. She couldn't deny the fact that at the back of her mind lingered the fear that the Hound had left. Even though he left his beloved sword. And even though he left his little bird. Sansa allowed herself a few moments of fear while she dressed and sloppily braided her hair down her back. Enough. She wiped away a loose tear and looked out the small window next to the bed. The sun was high in the sky now. She could see a majority of the town through the pane of glass. Her eyes wandered over the villagers, the few that were out in the open, scurrying around with armfuls of food and ushering children back to their dwellings. War is nearly here. Sansa knew that her brother was fighting battles all around them. The Hound probably thought she was blind to it, but she listened in King's Landing. Despite being told to not speak, they never told her not to listen. And that's why she looked at the villagers and knew they were not hurrying because they desired to, but because they had to. War was coming for them. Men were marching to destroy this town. It was amazing it was still left untouched. She knew the Hound would probably have them leave in the night or early morning. She had to admit that she was even surprised they had stayed this long. It's a clean room, bath water, and small sense of safety.

Sansa smoothed her dress of lavender over her stomach. The ache between her legs was still present, but had subsided while she had soaked in the water. Her walk was a bit awkward, her thigh being bruised and her core being torn, but it almost brought a smile to her face. I'm free. The thought kept pestering her. It wasn't simply losing her maidenhead or running from King's Landing. It wasn't just about journeying home. It was about being free. After years of being pushed into the dirt, pressed under Joffrey and Cersei's thumbs, to be without a weight holding her down was exhilarating. To be touched in a way that wasn't with intent to harm or be vicious was something she never thought she would experience. To be touched in a way that she desired, that she invited, was unheard of in her years at King's Landing. Sansa smiled out the window, the sun kissing her face, spreading a warmth over her skin that felt like her blush when the Hound looked at her a certain way.

Once again a knock startled Sansa. This time she was certain it was the small girl coming to collect her empty breakfast bowl and dispose of the water. "Yes?" Sansa called as she walked to the door.

"Miss, I've come to tidy," the young girl answered. Sansa wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood up, covering her hair. She unlatched the door and stepped back as the girl entered.

The girl gathered the empty bowl and spoon and began to leave the room when Sansa stood and said, "I'm sorry, but I was wondering if there may be somewhere I could wash our clothes? I'm afraid we have traveled a long way and there are few inns along the road." Sansa smiled, even though she wasn't certain the girl saw with how far down the hood went on her face.

"Of course! Grab your items and I will bring you down to the wash basin." Sansa could hear the smile. As the girl emptied the tub Sansa gathered up their few articles of clothing and shoved them into the bag she had brought from King's Landing. When the girl had her back turned Sansa quickly ripped the sheet on the bed off and shoved it into the bag. The blood was bright red and painfully noticeable.

Sansa slung the bag over her shoulder and made to follow the girl out of the room, but she hesitated at the threshold. The voice in her head that sounded like Sandor was yelling. Don't do anything stupid! Sansa swallowed the lump forming in her throat. It was early afternoon. He wouldn't be back until evening. She had plenty of time to quietly wash their clothes and come back upstairs. With a nagging feeling in the back of her mind trying to pull her back to the room, she stepped out and shut the door behind her, following the young girl down the stairs. The stairs were a bit challenging, but once they reached the bottom Sansa followed the young girl to the back of the inn where the kitchen was. The inn was oddly quiet. Not a soul sat next to the hearth or came through the front door. The kitchen was equally deserted. Sansa's view was obstructed by her hood, so she could really only see the young girl's shoes, but she heard no noise. And when she brought her head up awkwardly, no one was around.

"Where is everyone?" Sansa asked as they went to a small room off of the kitchen. A large tub was filled to the brim with soapy water. Sansa dipped a finger in and widened her eyes at how cold it was.

"War is coming," the girl answered. "Be quick down here. There is a line out by the stables where you can hang your items to dry. Use this door here." And with that the girl left, hurrying out of the room and beginning to make a racket in the kitchen.

Be quick down here. Sansa's heart had begun beating rapidly as soon as she had left the room. As soon as she had broken the unspoken rules the Hound had made. Don't do anything stupid. Sansa was certain she wasn't being foolish, but she couldn't shake the guilt in her chest as she dumped their clothing and the sheet into the tub. She scrubbed quickly, looking over her shoulder at the floor every few moments. The hood was making her face hot as she wrung the clothing out and hastily shoved them in her bag and shuffled out the back door.

The fresh air was alarming at first. She hadn't realized how stuffy the inn's air was until she was breathing in fresh grass and the hay from the nearby stables. She hung the clothes on a makeshift line that ran from the inn to the wall of the stables. The breeze took hold of the sheet and threatened to take it away. The spot where she had bled was now a dull pink, barely noticeable. Once she finished and watched the clothing blow in the breeze, she went to the stables while holding her hood secure from the blowing wind.

The smell of hay was overwhelming and made Sansa sneeze, startling Stranger and Windstorm. Both horses whinnied and then settled when Sansa shushed them with soft words. Stranger kept a weary distance as Sansa did from him. But Windstorm welcomed the affection. She pet the horse and ran her fingers through the mane. The sun began to set in the sky by the time Sansa felt content leaving the horses with their hay and water and Windstorm's freshly brushed coat. With a smile and kind farewell Sansa walked out into the evening. She gathered the clothing as quickly as she could, folding it sloppily into the bag. As she put the last item, the large blanket, into the bag and went to stand she felt a presence behind her. Before she could speak or turn she was being held from behind and something cold was touching her neck. A blade.

"I-

"I told you not to do anything stupid," his voice was menacing. The blade pressed against her throat hard enough that she felt a quick pinch and trickle of blood travel down her throat and between her breasts. "Inside, little bird." The knife disappeared quickly. Sansa watched the Hound walk in front of her, heading towards the front of the inn. She stared for a moment longer before grabbing the bag and hurrying behind him through the front doors and to one of the tables. "Sit." He gestured to the seat across from him at the rough table. Sansa's hood prevented her from seeing anyone, but she could hear distant voices in the room.

Sansa reached up to the hood and pushed it back to rest where her hair began. The Hound reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. "I'm sick of staring at feet and darkness." Sansa pulled away from his grip and adjusted the hood to conceal her hair but expose her face.

The Hound snorted. Sansa watched as he slapped two gold coins on the table and make eye contact with a woman roaming the room with cups and plates. She nodded and went back to the kitchen. Sandor licked his thumb and reached across the table and pushed his thumb down the front of her dress to rest between her breasts. His face stayed blank as he ran his wet thumb up her chest and neck to where the cut stung on her neck. The blood collected on the edge of his thumb, a perfect large drop. He brought it to his mouth and sucked it while watching her. "Someone cut the little bird."

Sansa tried her best to not watch the way his mouth surrounded the pad of his thumb and licked her blood off of it. As much as she wanted to break the eye contact they had made, she couldn't. His eyes were stripping her of her clothing. A blush crept up her neck. The cut stung from his saliva. "Where were you?" The woman brought over two mugs of ale, took the coin and scurried back to the kitchen where a delicious smell was wafting out.

Sansa noticed that his hair was wet, his clothing clinging to him and stained red. "Killing pigs," he answered into his flagon. Sansa scrunched her nose as she took a small sip and nearly began coughing her lungs out. "One more night then we leave for the Twins in the morning."

"Is that where Robb and Mother are?" Sansa took a longer swig of the beverage and nearly choked. She managed to swallow her distaste at the thought of seeing part of her family again.

The woman brought two bowls of stew. The Hound took a large spoonful. "Aye," he said while chewing. "Eat," he said through carrots and onions in a broth of rabbit.

Sansa did as she was told and ate. She was much slower than Sandor. He was finished his ale and the stew before she had finished her bowl of stew. He sat as patiently as he could and flagged down the woman wandering the room as more men and women shuffled in. It was mostly men staggering through the rickety front entrance. Sansa kept her eyes down as he asked for a bath in their room. The girl nodded and walked away quickly. His voice did not leave room for any kind questions or fancy words. It was as if everyone who spoke with the Hound knew he didn't take any pleasure in talk. However, Sansa noticed that he made no attempt to hide his face this time. Do they not know who he is? Or does he simply no longer care? Sansa took the last spoonful of stew and savored it the best she could. In a way she dreaded going back out in the wild. She was certain he would keep her safe, just as he had this whole time, but a new fear began eating away at her. She sipped her ale while a wave of anxiety fluttered behind her ribs. What will Mother say? What will Robb think? Will Sandor leave? The Hound was drinking his third cup of ale while Sansa unknowingly stared at his face. Each sip of her ale was simply instinctual to quench her thirst as she studied the lines of his face. His thick beard covered his jaw, but stopped awkwardly on the burnt side of his face. Flecks of gray scattered through the hair. The burn was terrible. Sansa had known that all along, but he was too busy watching the rest of the room to care where her eyes settled. Now she could truly see the texture. She remembered the feeling on her fingers, how rough and almost calloused it felt. Looking at it made her feel sad. The skin looked like hardened candlewax that had once been dripping off of his bones.

"That'll do," he growled looking right into her eyes. "I told you, I'm used to stares." He chugged the rest of his ale down and slammed the cup down. Sansa jumped and blushed purely from embarrassment. "Finished yet?"

Sansa nodded and let him pull her hood back down to conceal most of her face as they went to the stairs just as the older woman that had been serving tables came down with an empty pail. "It's all ready, ser." Mistake, Sansa thought gripping the bag with their clean clothes a little tighter, preparing for his rude retort.

The Hound snorted and took Sansa's hand, roughly pulling her up the stairs. "Fucking knights," he murmured only loud enough for Sansa to hear as they walked briskly down to the end of the hall to their room. The door was left ajar. As soon as they stepped in the Hound slammed it shut behind them and latched it.

"What were you like before?" Sansa asked as she unclipped the cloak and tossed it on the bare bed. Her heart hammered at the silence he answered her with. Her bravery was indeed more prominent, but she often regretted it when she saw the rage in his eyes. So instead of watching him while he chose whether or not to respond, she took the blanket from the bag and made the bed. The Hound stood by the bath, his shirt already stripped and in a heap at his feet.

"I was a child," he answered pulling his breeches down with little hesitation and stepping into the bath, sitting in the steaming water. Some water sloshed over the edge, slapping the floor. "Enough of your questions." Sansa swallowed as she tucked the last edge of the blanket beneath the straw. The woman had started a roaring fire in the hearth. The room was heavy with heat. A bead of sweat trickled down Sansa's back beneath the dress she wore.

The Hound sat with his eyes closed in the bath. Sansa's heart began beating rapidly watching his chest rise and fall, the hair clinging to his chest. Her feet moved with a mind of their own and she was next to the bath. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. The sun had almost completely set, but the fire glowed across his scarred skin. Sansa took a deep breath and brought her trembling fingers up to the front of her gown. The laces were simple enough to untie, but she paused not out of hesitation, but because the Hound was staring at her so strangely. They simply looked at one another. Sansa had fingers halfway through the laces, her heart pounding behind her ribs. She was certain they could both hear it.

"Why?" he asked it quietly, his hand reached out of the bath and rested over her stomach. The fabric immediately absorbed the water, chilling her stomach. "You should want a prince, a knight even. Fucking knights," he muttered as he let one finger travel down her stomach, over her woman's place, and then drop down to the water. He turned away and looked into the flames. "I'm a dog, little bird."

Sansa had no answer. Instead she continued the laces and let the dress drop down in a puddle at her feet. She had foregone small clothes since he had first touched her. She was desperate to taste freedom in any way she could. He must have heard the dress drop, but he kept his eyes on the flames. Sansa counted several breaths, and almost began to feel uncertain of her actions. Does he regret last night? Does he no longer want me? Sansa felt her lower lip tremble. She bit down on it, hard enough to open the cut again. The blood filled her mouth, tasting like a golden coin. She knelt and began to bring her dress back up over her shoulders when a hand quickly stopped her. He held her wrist firmly, the fingers easily wrapped all the way around.

"I shouldn't have touched you, I shouldn't have taken you." He looked into her eyes. He almost looked sad.

"But you did."

"Aye, and it was a mi-

"Don't you dare," Sansa snapped. A heat rose inside of her that was no longer arousal. A rage spiked inside. "For years I was a prisoner in King's Landing. I have seen princes, kings, and knights. I know what I want and it isn't any of those men. Lannister or not, they're all the same." Sandor watched her with curiosity. His eyes burned her skin. He let go of her wrist and let the dress fall. Her naked body stood before him. "You never just wanted to take me home." The words spilled out before she could weigh the consequences of saying such words to a man filled with rage. "I chose to go with you for the same reason you saved me."

The Hound tugged at her wrist. "In," he said. Sansa lifted her leg and stepped into the bath, the rage on her skin melting away. "That rage I have only seen one other time," he said as Sansa stood with her feet on either side of his thighs, hovering above him. He reached up and rested his hands on her backside. Her eyes fluttered as she sunk into the water, legs curled behind her, sitting on his thighs. Water lapped at the edges of the tub, spilling onto the floor. Some even splattered into the close flames causing a hissing noise to erupt in the room.

His hands cupped her breasts. Sansa felt heavy. Her core was aching, not just with a primal need, but with soreness. "When?" she sighed as she rubbed her pink nipples with his thumbs. His hands disappeared beneath the water and rested on her lower back, pulling her closer to him. She felt his manhood stiff against the tuft of hair between her legs and rest against her lower stomach. He began planting kisses along her shoulders and collarbone.

"Not now," he answered while sucking at her throat.

When his lips found hers Sansa tasted her own blood mingled on his tongue that tasted of stew, ale and his own unique flavor. No wine, Sansa thought with a smirk as their tongues danced. The water felt even hotter the longer their lips lingered together. Her hands curled on his chest. She could feel his heart beating steadily beneath her palm. "I thought you had left me today," Sansa muttered as he pulled away and rubbed her against himself.

"Never," he grunted while gently lifting her. His manhood rested at her entrance, the ache more noticeable than ever.

Sansa took a shaky breath and looked into the lust-filled eyes of the Hound. He gripped her hip with one hand and brought his other down to where they would connect. He rubbed her sensitive nub and made her moan. Sansa closed her eyes and remembered the fire that had traveled with alarming speed through her limbs. It had even ignited a fire behind her eyelids. She swore she saw the comet streaking through the sky behind her closed eyes. His fingers left and instead she only felt the graze of them as he moved his hand up and down himself beneath her. Sansa's legs began to shake from holding herself up on her knees. He was poised beneath her, ready to take her again. A tear slipped from Sansa's eye as he plunged a finger into her. The ache was hard to ignore. She hissed and bit her lip. The taste of blood was becoming far too familiar.

"Who hurt the little bird?" it sounded like a mock as he pumped into her again, his other hand sinking into the skin above her hip. "Tell me," he growled into her throat as he added a second finger. Sansa's legs shook as he stretched her.

She gripped his back and dug her nails into his already scarred flesh. His burnt skin was pressed against her shoulder, his good ear next to her lips. "It was you," she breathed. He removed his fingers and held her hips while guiding her down onto his manhood.

Sansa cried out as he slowly began to fill her. A sting traveled from her center out to her fingers and toes. He didn't pause, but pulled her down so he was completely inside of her. A tear trickled down her cheek. She rested her forehead against his shoulder as he groaned. She stifled another cry when she knew he was completely immersed in her. Sandor kissed her neck as his fingers trailed up and down her spine. They were light as feathers above the surface of the water, then beneath it felt like the tickle of fish swimming by. Sansa opened her eyes and pulled back, resting her forehead against his. She sucked in a breath while bringing her hands up to grip his shoulders. Their lips met. The kiss was sloppy. Sansa was concentrating on not moving her hips and keeping her body as still as possible. The longer she stayed still, the number she became to the sting. The ache dissipated as they kissed. The Hound made no attempt to move her. His hands rested lightly on her hips, his thumbs making small circles over her protruding hip bones.

Sansa made small movements at first. But even the smallest sway of her hips made the Hound growl in his throat. At the time Sansa was unsure if he wasn't moving to help ease her discomfort or simply to prevent himself from going too quickly. The pain withered away after several minutes of small movements. But Sansa grew suddenly extremely reluctant to move on her own. "Like this, little bird," he muttered while kissing her lips. His hands gripped her hips a bit harder and gently moved her body up along his manhood and then back down. A shiver ran up Sansa's spine. The ache came on strong, but she bit her lip and pressed her forehead harder against his. His hands left her hips and she moved by herself. Up and then down. A little faster each time.

The Hound began to groan each time she came to rest down on his lap, his manhood completely filling her. Each time she came down, her sensitive nub would rub against the base of him and send a shiver up her spine. As her pace quickened, the louder his groans became. His hands dug into her and he pulled back from her face. He gripped her chin between his fingers and stared into her drowsy eyes. Her eyelids were feeling heavy, the feeling of pure bliss swiftly traveling from her center to rest in her chest. The Hound began moving with her, the water steadily flowing over the edges of the bath. He released her chin and moved his hand below the water to where they were connected. His fingers moved in circles around her causing a moan to escape her lips. Sansa moved up and down faster, the feeling of being full and his hands sending currents through her arms and legs was bringing her to the edge. Only a moment later she saw the fire behind her eyes and heard the fire crackling and the water splashing loudly. It filled her ears and her mouth hung open as she whimpered and came down from her ecstasy.

The Hound growled and suddenly Sansa was empty and Sandor pulled her close so his manhood was spilling onto her stomach beneath the water. His teeth ground together and his forehead came to rest on her shoulder. Sansa opened her eyes and watched his back heave. The silver scars moved with his skin as he breathed in and out. The water felt cold compared to the heat radiating off of their bodies. The water was down several inches and splattered across the floor. Sansa's body felt limp as she rested onto Sandor's chest. Her breasts pressed into him, her mouth open and breathing into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her and simply held her, cradled her.

After a few moments of only the fire and their breathing, Sansa shifted. Her legs felt stiff, her core was painful. She tried to stand but her legs shook. The Hound pulled her to his chest, held her securely with his arms and stood. The water lowered even more as he stepped out and brought her to the bed. He lowered her onto the sheet, letting her head rest on the pillow. Her red hair spilled around her shoulders. Her Tully eyes threatened to close. Sandor lazily pulled up his breeches, leaving them untied and draped his cloak over Sansa. She felt the bed creak as he joined her on the bed. His arm draped across her stomach. Sansa turned her head and looked at the Hound. His eyes were closed, his breathing becoming even. His scars were on full display, the burned side of his face exposed. Sansa smiled, watching him drift into sleep, finally not caring about her looking at his scars. Sansa took one of her hands from beneath the cloak and rested it on his large a calloused one resting on her stomach. Only then did she let her eyes close. Tomorrow we leave this place. Then what? Sleep took her before she could even attempt to conjure up an answer.

I only have a couple more chapters I want to write. Tell me your thoughts. Was it still believable? Reviews are superb.