I've been having such a fun time writing this, thanks to everyone who is having as much fun reading it.

Sandor:

The wine had Sandor's blood up again. He had never truly convinced his cock to go all the way down since he unlaced Sansa, and seeing her sit at a table, her breasts practically in his face and the wine in his system had been too much. He watched her and it was all he could do to not reach out and touch her. When she told him she would go to the room to bathe, he panicked. He could not let her go up before he checked it, and his cock was like Valyrian steel. Don't let her see it, dog. He barked at her and told her he had to take a piss. He got up and hid himself as best he could and stalked outside.

Walking toward the back of the inn, Sandor unlaced his breeches hurriedly. He pulled out his manhood and slowly spread the wetness that had gathered at the tip. He stroked himself, starting slowly and gaining speed and power as he went. In his mind, he saw his Little Bird peaking for the first time in the cave. He heard her cry out, saw her flush, felt her wetness. He saw her hands on his cock, his cum on her breasts. He tasted her lips and felt her body melt into his own. He imagined what she would look like if he ever had fucked her. Imagined her eyes widening as he entered her, her breasts bouncing as he thrust into her. Growling loudly, Sandor released his seed into the trees and tried to regain his breath. Control yourself dog. You have to share a bed with her tonight. Don't ruin her. You love her. Act like it.

He steeled himself for a hard night and walked back into the inn.

The first thing he noticed was his missing Little Bird. He felt a rage wash over him, thinking she didn't listen and went upstairs alone. Stupid fucking girl! He started for the stairs when he heard her laughter. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards the sound. There she was. Dancing. Dancing with some boy. Dancing with some boy who had his hands on her. Dancing with some boy who had his hands on her, while she laughed and smiled for him. For him.

He saw red.

What the fuck does she think she's doing? I told her not to talk to anyone and there she is dancing with some fucking little shit! And she is letting him touch her! Bugger that, he is a dead man. Touching what is min-He realized it then. The answer the question he asked himself before he scared Sansa away from him. No. He could not let her go. He loved her too much, and he was too possessive for that.

I'm too much of a fucking dog to share what is mine. I can't stand by and watch the girl I love be given to someone else. I can't watch her be loved by someone else. And why should I? So I'm an ugly old brute of a lowborn dog. I love her. I love her. I love her more than anything. That is good enough. If she'll have me, that's all I need. Can't force myself on this girl anymore than I could back in King's Landing, but she started whatever the fuck we were doing in that cave. She started it, not me. And if she started it, that means she wants it. Don't know why in seven bloody hells she wants me, and maybe she doesn't, but something made her do it. And bugger me, but I'm going to find out what and why and what it all means. If she wants me, I'm hers. If she doesn't, I'm fucked, but I'll stay like a good dog for her. But I won't stand here in some fucking inn watching some fucking boy touching my Little Bird and making her happy, when I can do that my fucking self. Upstairs. Alone. In bed. Bugger it all.

And he walked up to the two of them, reared back, and punched the little shit square in his face, knocking him to the floor.

"Do not touch her," he growled as he gathered up his Little Bird in his arms. Several people were watching him warily, and the boy looked up from the ground, blood flowing from his lip.

"She said you weren't her husband! How was I supposed to know she lied?"

"Don't speak again unless you want to have a good look at your guts before you die, little shit. Blind, were you? Didn't see me? Must have if you asked her about me. You must have a death wish, boy, or you're too fucking stupid to survive." Sandor glared at the boy menacingly and started forward, but his Little Bird stopped him. She turned around in his arms and faced him. She stared at him for a minute before bringing her hand up to his cheek and whispering, "Please."

"You are lucky, boy." And with that, Sandor walked himself and his Little Bird out of the hall and up to their room, shouting at the innkeeper for his hot bath water.

Sansa could not let the Hound kill poor Willem because he asked her to dance so she looked up at him, touched his face, and said please. Her mind was spinning. She could not understand what he was doing or why. As he swept her up the stairs, practically carrying her, all she could think was how nice it felt to be in his arms again. She was too tired to fight with him. She was too tired to fight with herself. Heartbroken though she was, she still loved him and fighting it was too exhausting this close to bedtime.

Getting into their room, Sandor led Sansa to the bed and sat her on it. He started pacing back and forth in front of her. She watched him curiously. What is he doing? What has him so upset?

"Are we in danger?" she asked.

Sandor stopped and looked at her. "No. Why would you think that?"

"You just seem so agitated. It worries me. What is wrong?" She asked.

Sandor laughed at her, then, low in his throat. He looked in her eyes. "Always so innocent, Little Bird," he said, slowly walking back toward her on the bed.

Sansa's breathing caught in her throat and she almost passed out from the intensity of her feelings and his gaze in that instant. Little Bird. He called me Little Bird. Is he drunk? What is happening? What do I do? Gods, I want him to kiss me...