Disclaimer: I don't own "Game of Thrones." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Missing scene after the end of 8x02. On the eve of battle, biology and the Gods bring Sansa and Sandor together in the most biblical way possible.
Warnings:missing scene, alpha/omega/beta dynamics, sexual content, possible dubious consent issues due to trope, one love bond, soulmates au, mating cycles/in heat, romance, drama, angst.
Safak
Chapter Two
It wasn't until the door was closed and bolted from the outside that she exhaled and shrugged out of her cloak. Fingers sinking into the rich wolf fur as she placed it on the chair with deliberate slowness. Stomach fluttering as his nostrils flared.
"You're mine," she told him softly. Pleased when her voice didn't shake. Feeling the cusp of a feeling so strong she couldn't put it to name as she took off her heavy iron necklace. Pleased when he let go of a wordless sound. Calling to her.
"Stubborn man..." she murmured, as she untied the laces of her dress and pulled it over her head. "Look at you. How long did you hold out after the pull started?"
In all the stories, the pull was unmistakable. When it started, it didn't stop until you bonded with your true mate. Triggered by nearness and a hundred shades of instinct she'd never understand. But she did know he would have fought until the bitter end. Until the need consumed him. Able to picture the moment he'd rasped a vicious, guilty, exhausted curse and stumbled to his feet. Lurching heavily as the animal under his skin directed his steps. Snarling as he followed her scent. He would have fought to get to her, that much she knew. Maybe he'd even howled his intent. Drawing the others attention as he staggered like a man possessed.
"So strong," she cooed, watching him watch her as her hands smoothed down the ivory-silk of her shift. The lacy chemise heaving every time she breathed. "…And so utterly daft."
His eyebrow twitched at that, nearly making her laugh. Imagining he felt offended as the urge to giggle rose in her throat. The burnt side of his face had never seeming less frightening. Instead, she couldn't imagine him without it. It was just as him as the rest. And he was hers. Every part of him was hers. Especially the scars.
She bit down on a building smile, taking it as her due the shift joined the rest of the pile. Leaving her in just her small clothes as Sandor stared hungrily. Straining for her as he gummed at the leather gag.
"How long did you fight it? Trying so hard to stay away? Days? Since you arrived with Jon and the others? Why? Is this really so bad a fate? Being mine?" she hummed, rapt as his legs swayed wide - inviting. His manhood tightening the heavy cloth as she stepped out of her boots and stockings.
The last of the words came out teasing. But there was no jape in them. Knowing full well the Hound had demons other than fire that he struggled with. The most crippling fears come from within, after all. Not from the darkness. Not even from the flames.
She took a step forward, then another. Approaching him carefully – reverently - but with the same firmness she'd displayed before. She would not be denied. She would know him. All of him. Lost as he was in the pull, he still stiffened and tried to jerk away when she reached to touch him. Finding herself on her knees beside the bed as the wood creaked under his weight. Like a supplicant coming to pray at a strange alter.
"Let me? Please..."
She didn't know she was holding her breath until the world didn't end when her hand finally settled on his face. Breathing unsteadily as she slowly acquainted herself with him. Smoothing down the dips and blurs of his burned side first - as if to prove she found nothing beneath her notice. Every scar was part of him. And therefore, part of her.
He was tense under her hands, but she didn't stop. Feeling a stab of guilt at the knowledge that he wouldn't have let her do this if he wasn't bound. Distantly ashamed as she had her fill greedily. Mapping the coarseness of his beard and the way it thinned the further she went down his neck.
She grew frustrated when his shirts impeded her progress. Placing her hand on his belly, muscles jumping hard against her palm, as if to reassure him, before she reached for the dagger she was sure was hidden in one of his boots and- yes!
The shirts gave way like creamed butter against a hot knife. Making him growl, only to hitch off to a choking noise when her hands smoothed down his chest. Letting go of an answering sound that was so purely Omegan it made him still again - breathless and pleased. Calmed by her presence and approval.
He was just as she imagined. Just as he should be. Littered with scars that wrapped around fit muscles and the large frame she'd only seen hints of over the years. Always tucked away under layers of armor. He was strong and barrel-chested, with dark brown hair she delighted in combing her fingers through. Yet, still deceptively graceful. It was there in the lines of him. The indented muscles that framed his hips and belly. Even the studded moles that speckled his shoulders seemed fitting in their own way.
All of it, she claimed for her own.
"So beautiful..." she whispered. Hardly aware of what she was saying as she thumbed the waist of his pants and nudged his laces. Wondering if she dared before- abruptly- she did. Tugging down his pants as Sandor's thighs trembled with tension. Lifting as much as his bonds would allow. Breaths coming in throaty pants as his chest rose and fell like bellows.
She wasn't sure when it happened, but he'd finally relaxed into it. Ribs all but quaking with a low, continuous purr she doubted he was even aware of. Butting into the press of her hand when she cupped his burnt cheek, starved for touch and affection. Small clothes barely covering his arousal as his hips jerked when she let her hand trail down again. Skirting the worn linen of his intimates.
It was the Alpha who was in charge now.
Not the man.
"I was waiting for you..." she murmured, feeling an excited thrill spark in her woman's place as she untied his small clothes. Leaving him bare as his manhood jerked upward - free of its restraint. Red, large and glistening with his want. "I didn't realize I was. All this time, until-"
She trailed off, shaking her head. Fumbling inelegantly with the ties of her own small clothes until they fluttered to the floor between her legs - baring her woman's place. Ginger curls wet and glistening as she pressed the heel of her palm against her mound and let go of a low moan. Cheeks warming when a low, pitching whine left the gag.
Gods.
The scent of him was so strong she wanted to fold down to the floor and present. But she didn't. She couldn't. Her Alpha was here, tied up, waiting and- Mother help her, but she couldn't stop herself from having him like this. Even if it was just this once.
She clambered onto the bed with a desperate hitch. Long hair trailing down his chest as her breasts tried to follow. Nipples tightening with excited heat as he growled and strained to meet her. Hands curled into such tight fists around his bonds that his blood had almost drained white.
"Shhh...I'll not leave you," she assured, dragging her lips down the fat of his bottom lip. Stealing a kiss that'd been long promised as his jaw clenched against the gag. "Not ever again. But I fear you'll have to indulge me, just this once...I find having you like this is quite intriguing."
The reflection of her eyes in his was wolfish.
She took pity on him and untied the gag. Ready for it when he reared up and took her lips in a brutal kiss. Tongue spearing into her mouth like a sword thrust as the coarseness of his beard tickled her skin - rasping a rash she knew would be clear for all to see in the coming hours.
The thought was surprisingly delicious.
Let them see.
Let them know.
"Mine," he grunted, baring his teeth. Cock bumping against the pale of her inner thigh. Smearing his excitement in a line of thin milky-white. Knot already swelling as his shaft nudged against her slit when she straddled him. "Mine."
"Yes," she agreed, dragging her hand down his burned cheek with a boldness she could have never imagined, even a few day ago. Belly feeling like it was full of lit coals when again, he did not flinch. Trusting her with his broken parts as she let go of a soft little mewl. Almost overcome when he leaned into her hand. Drawing her down with a needy moan as their foreheads rested against each other for a long, perfect moment.
It was a good omen.
Still, it wasn't until she slowly sank down on his cock that the exhale she'd been holding onto all this time – maybe ever since that first moment, all those years ago - left her in a long satisfied rush.
Finally.
He watched her dress as the sound of raised voices rolled distantly down the hall.
Long before the sun lightened the sky and barely an hour since the fever had left them both.
It was time.
Still, she lingered. Smiling softly to herself as his fingers twitched. Fighting the desire to reel her back into the sheets. Knowing full well there wasn't time. That the white walkers were here, yet there was nothing she wanted more than to turn to him and let him have her until neither of them could stand.
Time was never on her side, it seemed.
She took a moment to compose herself before she faced him. Finding him half-feral and bare as the lamp-light flickered shadows down the burnt side of his face. Leaving the rest of him in hopeful light. Alpha and man one and the same, as his cock twitched against his spend-speckled thigh.
"Come back to me," she told him simply. Letting it stand for far more than the meaning of the words alone as she rested her hand atop his. Doing her best to make a mark despite the smallness of her palm.
He nodded, throat bobbing.
His promise freely given.
And by the old gods and the new, she would hold him to that.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. This story now complete. – There will be an accompanying drabble to show Sandor's perspective that will make this a short series. It will be called: "Perenne."