Part 8; To Strengthen a Bond.

Make peace with your

broken pieces.

Sansa

Steaming rivulets within the bathing tub's water, squiggled up, engulfing the bathing chambers, with humidity. Timid eyes met the slender-straight of her back. Sansa could sense, his lustful-gaze upon her.

She turned. Permitted silken-furs to cascade to the stone. Rough against her foot-pads, the sedimentary surface, felt cold. Despite heat swirling in the air.

Mouth-agape. Theon's pale skin, blemished with scarlet-heat. Pulsed thoroughly with heat.

Calloused, rough fingers relinquished the hold on his own furs. They too—met the stoned floor.

Taunting eyes came to pair with Theon's. Soft, teasing, little fingers danced over the space of his chest. She knew of his weaknesses. Longed to kiss, the swell of reddened petals.

"Climb in." Tilting up her chin. Soft petals connected to rough-lips.

Unwilling to deny her—Theon stepped within the steaming heat. Sank down, underneath—heat-borne surface. Muscles rippled with shock, from the intense burn—she witnessed, his resistance in silence. Warmed petals tugged into a gentle smile.

Expectant sea-green optics, gawked up at her. She complied to his silent question.

Dipped a toe into the water. Felt ripples of the burn tingle up her leg, straight up her spine. And shivered.

Sinking underneath the surface. Either knee met the wooden-bottom of the tub. Perched astride Theon's waist—all the while.

"Do not ever sleep out in that pen, again, Theon. Promise me." Fear struck deep within. If he broke apart again…Would she be able to bring him back?

Haunted, unreadable eyes returned the strife shone from within. "I promise."

Index finger, traced the stubble-laden curve of his set jaw. Right down his chin. Adam's apple. Jutting clavicle. She felt his shudder, impulsively, wrack throughout her own bones.

"You are meant to be clean—" Lifting a tattered rag, she wiped down his chest, "—handsome, pure. And mine. Always mine, Theon." Whispers dalliance over scarred skin.

"Sansa…" Disagreement rose in his tone. Cat-like, Tully-eyes, however. Silenced him.

"Reek is dead. Gone. You are Theon Greyjoy. And your skin is clean. Pure. Loved. Mine." Tears rimmed dark-circled eyes. Quivering of his jaw, began.

Still, Sansa scrubbed the rag over, filth-laden skin.

"Tell me. Who are you?" Rosy-lips skimmed the surface of red ones.

"T-Theon Greyjoy."

"Lord Theon Greyjoy." She corrected.

Theon flinched. But nodded.

"Tell me what you want, Theon." Curiosity flickered within her mind.

"I want…to be whole." Her hand paused. The rag midway to his pelvis.

She knew. Of course, she knew there was no reality in which she could ever make him truly, whole once more. Gods, she had prayed for guidance—strength. Prayed for his rebirth.

"You will be. I will make you whole, again. Do you trust me?"

Theon's conflicted glance, shifted. He offered her a nod.

"You are the only one I trust."

Warm toned smiles converged onto her face. Deft fingers sought out the cusp of a rough cheek. And sultry-lips, crashed to his uneven-pout. Muscled hands found womanly-curves just at her trim-cut waist. Exploring with hastiness. Skimping over supple-protruding, breasts. Nipples roughed over, by experienced thumbs. Guttural moans flowed from his throat, when her thumb-pads traipsed over his stub.

Theon's face jerked back. Departing from the kiss.

Seeking fingers coiled around her wrist. Afflicted optics stained hers. His head shook, rapidly.

I cannot…again…just yet…." Cheeks pinkening, Theon attempted to belay something to her. Sansa's eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you…Do you not desire to…?" Heaving breaths escaped strained-lungs. Sudden, embarrassment fluttered through her. She meant only, to comfort.

"I am not as…resilient…now that—" Stammering. Theon's eyes would not meet hers.

Realization hit. Although, his motions were eager. Raw. She had noted the lack of throb from his fleshy-stub. No reaction.

"Have I…depleted you?" An amused smile graced her petals.

In the pen, Theon had spent three times over. By his hand, with her; on the floor, and finally, against the firm-wooden wall, when a guard caught them.

Shame burned in his eyes. Lowering his head—he refused to meet her own. His jaw, set, firmly.

"Forgive me, I meant you no jest. It is only…I used to hear that you would last all night. Tired out the whores, kitchen wenches…Whomever took to your bed. You always harbored inhuman, vitality. Were the rumors, false?" Rumors often were. It would have made no difference to her.

Theon winced. Those tears collected in his rimmed eyes, fell. She went to stroke his cheek—he turned away. "I warned you, My Lady. I am not a whole, man…Not anymore." Forced words, choked out in throaty, whispers

Sansa felt the internal struggle, he fought. Waged a war inside of his heart—for her. It suffocated her. Broaching on her heart. Until all else collided with her soul. She fought for him. No matter the brokenness inside—this was her Lord. Her Iron-born, lover.

If his stamina was not what it once was, it mattered little. She never doubted his infatuation with her—his love.

"Sansa." She corrected. Refusing to allow him to backslide—not over this trivial thing.

"Do you recall how you would bed, other girls? How you would touch them? Kiss them?" Theon's chest rippled under her touch. Shudders traveled up his spine. She felt them.

Inquisitive eyes searched hers. But; he nodded.

"Show me." She would not have him view himself as worthless. Useless. Never again.

Seeming to snap out of it. He connected their lips again. Sucked her petal, between sharp teeth. Kissed. Sucked. Licked, at her lowermost petal. Returned the scorch of his touch to the heat of her frame. Thumbed over a puckered pink-teat. Used his mouth to release hers. Only to worship her neck. Kissed down slender-slope of her neck. Used rough fingers to pinch her. Within seconds—she was alight with the burn of his touch. In heat. Need for him.

With thighs already spread wide—eager rough hands found her pleats. Spread her apart. Brushed her little button—She dug clean-cut nails into his muscled shoulders. She was on fire. Just from his touch-memory. Three fingers plunged up inside of her. She squeaked—Jilted—her hips upward. Lost touch with reality. Felt rough petals suck a nipple, between his teeth. Lapping needful—she whined. Shuddered. Squirmed—then came, over those invading fingers.

Lowering—spent—upon his shoulder. Twitching uncontrollably, from over-stimulation. She sighed in contentment.

"See? You have so much inside of you, Theon. I will never fault you for staying capabilities." Little whispers of encouragement resounded. Billows of steam still coated the air. Thick steamy incense—were all around.

"What happens, when my fingers are no longer enough? When…you need a whole man." Sansa shivered.

"You are the only man, I want. The only man I will ever want. Promise." She kissed away, hot tears. Rubbed her nose against his cheek. Low hums, caught in her throat.

Rose petals scented the water. Sweat built on creamy skin. They would both be clean. Sansa would make certain of it.

"How I wish…I could have you properly." Longing tones engulfed the air. Shock instilled in her.

"I know. I wish you could, too." Despite fear of what a man's cock could do to her. There was no shudder at the thought of Theon's.

Once, long ago—she had felt the press of Robb's erection to her belly. Woke, entwined in his arms. Thick with need. Dreams of maidens caused his nighttime stimulus. Still, it was the first time she viewed a man's part. Thought instinctively, that she would know one inside of her. Each night, after her marriage to a fine Lord. Robb had flustered upon wakening. Apologized for it. She had felt no shame. Still felt no shame at the memory.

"I would have let you; you know." The declaration was timid. Shy.

"Let me?" Puzzlement overcame Theon's features.

"When you kissed me, that first time. I would have…I would have told you I wanted it, too. I was not afraid of the marital bed. I told you that I would have Robb alongside of me. Naked. Well, I felt it. The hardness—pressed to me. More than one morning." With pinked cheeks; she pushed on. "I was not afraid. Not then." She relinquished a sigh of regret. "Had you not been so quick to leave me ashamed, I would have told you. I would have never left you for King's Landing." She swallowed thick in her throat.

There was a war in his eyes. She glimpsed it, briefly. Something only he could understand.

"You were like a sister to me, then. I was ashamed. To want you, Sansa. I did not want to feel, what I felt. I tried, everything. Even red-haired whores—" As though realizing what he spoke—he ceased.

Blue-optics widened. "You thought of me?"

"Every time I bedded them."

She held his gaze in horror. Wiped her thumbs across his stubbled cheeks. Captured any tears that fell. "Theon…" Her heart shattered. What could she say to that? What could she do to change it now?

If she could. She would make him whole. Give him pride. Joy. Love. All of it.

But she was helpless as a newborn kit. Helpless. Just as she had been when Ramsey preyed on her flesh. Just as she was when Joffrey preyed on her mind. Just as she was—Always.

"I am sorry."

"As am I, Sansa—As am I."