Ah, amore...
Sansa:
I love you. The words had popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She had wanted him to tell her first. But he told her why he wanted her and then demanded to know why she would want him and she got angry. She couldn't stop herself from explaining just how good he actually is, and it came out. Well, now you've done it. You've told him. There is no taking it back now.
So instead of trying to take it back or pretend it didn't happen, Sansa just said it again.
"I love you, Sandor." It felt good to say it, no matter how he would react.
Sandor was staring at her. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking straight into her eyes. Seconds ticked by while she waited for him to say something.
"Say something, Sandor, please."
"You are crazy, Little Bird," That was disappointing. "But I love you, too." Gods, Yes! "You are the only thing in the world that matters to me. I would die for you a thousand times if I could. I live for you, Little Bird. I love you. You're the only thing I've ever wanted for myself, except for killing Gregor. But that feeling is not even a fucking fraction of how I feel for you." With that, Sansa felt tears leaking from her eyes again (weak, stupid, woman) but she also felt Sandor kissing them away softly. "Don't cry Sansa, don't be silly." He chucked as he took her mouth in his own, passionately. "I love you," he breathed as he pulled away slightly.
"I love you," she replied before surging back to his lips, kissing him and holding onto him hard.
Sandor felt Sansa bring her body closer to his, and pressed against him insistently. His cock was still hard, of course, and leaking.
"Will you take my maidenhead now, Sandor?" Gods, I want him to. I want him to love me. I want him to make me his.
Sandor chuckled. He always does that, she thought with a huff.
"No, Little Bird, not yet. I don't want to rush you."
"But I want to. I want you to. Please, Sandor."
"No, Sansa, please. Just trust me. We need time to get used to this. And you're so young, Little Bird. There is no reason to rush. I'm not going anywhere. I love you. That won't change. Besides, I'm no honorable bloody knight. I'm bound to lose control sooner rather than later and take you, anyway. Please just let me try to take it slow with you."
He may not be an honorable knight, but he certainly is acting like one. Sansa was disappointed. She wanted him so badly. Ached for him. She wanted their love to be real, to feel real, and she was sure that him taking her was the way to do it. But she wouldn't push him on this. He was right, of course. There was no reason to rush. Sansa just loved all these feelings. The intensity of them. She wanted them to continue, and she wanted more. Sandor was older, though, he had more experience, and she would listen to him about this-for now.
But that doesn't mean you need to completely stop yourself, either, Sansa! He's hard. Do something about it.
She loves you, you love her, everything is perfect, and you won't take her, dog? Bloody stupid buggering bastard. His mind was angry at him, but Sandor knew he made the right decision. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself for long, and he might as well try to be noble with her while he could. She was still so young, after all. And so new to this kind of pleasure. Aye, let her get used to this first, before you up the ante. At least this way you don't have to worry about getting her pregnant...although that will be nice, one day. Sansa fucking Stark, big with your child. Seven hells. Sandor never wanted to have children, but something about Sansa changed that for him. Now, the thought of planting a baby in Sansa's belly was very... appealing. Take it slow, dirty fucking dog!
He was musing on his own ridiculousness, and kissing Sansa's lips lightly when he noticed little hands start to work on him again. Crazy bird. Stubborn, crazy, wonderful Little Bird.
Sansa shifted in his arms and sat up, watching him while she stroked, with a satisfied look on her face. Let her be smug, she's earned it. She descended slowly, then, kissing down his chest. Yes, yes, yes! Mouth! Sandor was already close to the edge from her work earlier, from pleasing her, and from hearing her tell him that she loves him. He wouldn't last long now.
Sansa brought her mouth to his balls first, which he was not expecting.
"Fuck, Sansa!" She sucked one, then the other, gently, while her hands continued to caress his cock. Abandoning them, she turned her mouth back to his manhood. She took him in, deeper than she had before. Gods, she is fucking perfect. I love her. "I love you, Little Bird, so fucking much. You're too fucking perfect, I swear. The most perfect thing in the world!"
Her hands left his cock and moved up, searching for something. She grabbed on to his hands and brought them to her head, before returning her hands to his manhood.
"You like when I grab your head when you suck me, Little Bird?"
Sansa hummed her reply against his cock.
"Seven hells, so do I," he grunted as he held her head tighter with one hand, and gathered her hair out her face with the other. "I like to see you, too, Little Bird, while you do this. It's the best thing I've ever seen. Gods, I'm the luckiest bastard alive." Sansa looked up at him, her mouth full with his cock, and Sandor lost it. He was barely able to grunt out a warning before he was coming in her mouth. Sansa swallowed around his dick, picked up her head, licked her lips, then came up and snuggled into his chest.
"I love you," he laughed, disbelieving what his life had become.
"I love you, too Sandor." Sansa looked up at him and smiled.
Sansa and Sandor spent the next few hours in each other's arms. Sandor decided they would leave in the middle of the night and continue their journey to Riverrun, so they had time to sleep and time to play.
It feels so good to tell him I love him, Sansa thought to herself as she lay naked in his arms. She had told him hundreds of times, already, it seemed, but she never tired of the words escaping her lips, or of the look he would give her when they did. She never tired of hearing Sandor say it back. I could do this forever and still want more.
It was a combination of the newness of the words as well as the raw emotion that spurred them on, Sansa decided. She had never had much occasion to say "I love you" to anyone before. She had told the members of her family, each a few times. But there just not very much reason to repeat it to them often, it was so engrained within their relationships. But telling Sandor was completely different. So much stronger, so much more real, so much more powerful. There was also danger in it, she thought, and uncertainty, that she never felt with her family. He could hurt me. He could leave me. He could die. We could be torn apart. And I shouldn't love him, at least not in the eyes of our society. He is too lowborn, and a Lannister pet, at that. Not anymore. Now he is mine as I am his. But others might not understand it. Might not accept it. What will you do then, Sansa? She knew the answer, it was one she had heard Sandor say, often. Bugger that.
She knew she trusted Sandor. She knew he would not let her go, certainly not willingly. And she would never let herself be taken from him, not without a fight. This love wasn't easy, she realized. But that was what made it so much more important. Sansa finally found something she would fight for. Something to be strong for.
The only thing missing, now, was the perfect ending. Sansa wanted Sandor to take her and make her his own. She used to care about the ceremony of it all. Wedded and bedded. Now, Sansa found she really didn't care. Sandor's influence, I'm sure. All that mattered was the love they had for each other. All that mattered was being happy with each other. What difference did it make if they were bedded first? If they never even married? No. Silly Sansa, you know you want to be wedded. You want to be bound together, in the sight of the old gods and the new, in the sight of the world. You just don't care if you happen to be bedded first. Sandor did that to you. Opened up these feelings. And now he won't finish the job. Frustrating!
Sansa was frustrated. She had spent the last hour basically begging Sandor to take her maidenhead, but he kept refusing. Telling her not to rush. Telling her that would change too many things and put them in too much danger.
"What if I get a child on you, Little Bird?" he had said. "I don't have moon tea growing out of my fucking armor. We're on the run, girl, without a maester to watch over you. And what if your kingly brother finds out and has my head because of it? I love you, but we won't be able to stop that in time for you to explain yourself. And even then, it might not be enough. Easier to say the Lannister Hound raped you after he stole you away. Easier to make a better match with you for his cause."
That had upset Sansa. She still didn't believe that Robb would use her that way. But Sandor would not budge. He would hold her and pet her and hush her until her body took over and gave in to the pleasure he was promising it. She would forgive him because he believed he was right and because he was still just trying to protect her. But she didn't like it, not one bit.
"Get some sleep, Little Bird. We'll leave in an hour. You need your rest." Sandor was sighing into her hair, gently rubbing her back while her head rested on his chest. So, she let herself drift off, safe and happy in Sandor's arms.
Stubborn fucking bird. Sandor was going crazy trying to get Sansa to forget about giving him her maidenhead. As if it is not fucking hard enough to do without her begging you, dog. You deserve a fucking reward for your restraint. Finally, Sandor had barked at her about her kingly brother and that proved enough to silence her. Aye, silence and upset. Nice work, again, dog. You always have to make her sad. It was for her own good, though. Her brother may not be a complete idiot, or a cruel bastard, like Joffrey, but they were playing the same game. Sandor knew that the Starks would need his beautiful Little Bird to marry, and marry well. Honor could only get them so far. A marriage could get them farther. Bugger that. They can't have my Little Bird.
They would make for Riverrun, as Sandor promised, but he was thinking of ways to get Sansa to abandon her family. Since she came into his life, it was like his world gradually shifted from revolving around getting rid of Gregor to her. Sansa had become his new reason for living. He had to keep her safe and he would try to keep her happy as well. And in turn, he kept himself happy. It was a new experience for him, feeling happy. Living his life around Gregor had turned him hard and angry and bitter. Now that he was living for something so pure and good, his entire outlook had changed. He could be happy instead of angry. He could care about giving life instead of trying to take it constantly. In just a few days his future changed. But how to get the Little Bird to go along with it. Aye, she told me she loves me and believes it too, but no one would just let a Lannister hound and a lady Stark be together. Princess of the North now. Bugger that. The Little Bird is mine now, and I won't give her up. She's too naive to understand what this means, but I can't bring her home to her family. Her kingly brother will take my head and give Sansa to some high lord that'll help him beat the Lannisters. And if I manage to kill the Young Wolf before he kills me, the Little Bird would hate me for it. Bugger that.
Sandor found he could not make a plan. There was likely a week of travel between this inn and Riverrun. A lot could change in a week. So much already had. Sandor decided to roll with the punches. He knew his end game: to keep his Little Bird, make her his wife, and keep her safe and happy. Now he would just have to make his decisions based around that. You can do that, dog.
He woke Sansa gently. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, her lips, and her nose. He kept kissing her lightly until she blinked up at him and smiled so brightly.
"I love you," she said.
Fucking hells, lucky dog.
"I love you, too, Little Bird. We have to go now."
Sansa was wet and aching.
They had ridden for a day and half since leaving the inn. For the first few hours, everything was fine. Stranger met the grueling pace he was used to running, and Sandor was his normal, brutish self. He had snarled at the stable boy, who he had woken up rudely, cursing about Stranger's saddle. He had hauled Sansa onto Stranger's back the way he had each time before, and jumped up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her, and spurred Stranger into a gallop. They rode hard as the scenery changed around them, as the sky lightened, and as the air warmed.
We have been so lucky, she thought to herself. They were not being chased. Or, at least, they were not being found by whoever was surely chasing them. Sansa did not know how long their luck would hold, though, and she knew Sandor was on edge because of it. He was alert and ferocious as they rode, sweeping the surroundings with his eyes constantly, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword whenever they were close to villages, or whenever he heard other horses or people nearby.
Seeing Sandor so intensely focused on her protection was exciting her. You are out of control, Sansa Stark. So wanton. You really should be ashamed. Surely, this is not proper. Surely, there is something wrong with you. Sansa was worried that there was something wrong with her. These feelings were not spoken about by ladies. Her lady mother had never discussed this. All she had been told by Catelyn Stark and Sept Mordane was to listen to her lord husband, when the time came, and to do as he told her. To give him pleasure. To give him children and run the household. But Sandor made her feel so desperate and wanton and needy all the time, Sansa did not think it was natural. And there was no one to ask about it. You can ask Sandor. This was true, but what did Sandor know about ladies and their desires? Sansa was finding that, although she felt no shame when she was alone and naked with Sandor, she was having trouble accepting her behavior and her feelings when her blood was not up.
Still, this acknowledgement did nothing to quell her desires. And sitting on a swaying horse with a man who was exuding passion and heat and who was conveniently hard against her back made everything worse.
So Sansa was wet and aching.
She was also surprised that Sandor was not the only thing her body could use to make her feel jolts and spasm of pleasure. She found that she could shift her hips down, and Stranger's saddle would hit the spot she needed touched. And after two hours of wanting Sandor to touch her, Sansa found she could not stop herself from grinding herself down, desperately seeking friction. Truly, there is something wrong with you. She was burning with shame, but she could not stop herself. She ground down again and again, trying to stop, but failing miserably.
Suddenly, the arm that was wrapped around her so tightly loosened, and Sandor grabbed Sansa's waist, halting her movement. I should have known he would notice. He notices everything, all the time. How can you be so wanton, Sansa Stark?
Sansa wanted to cry she was so embarrassed. Then, Sandor's voice rasped, close to her ear, sending her jumping back into him.
"You're driving me crazy, Little Bird. Can't you tell I'm distracted enough having you pressed into me this way? Can't you feel that?" To make his point, Sandor shifted himself forward slightly, while pulling Sansa back. She moaned at the feel of his cock pressing hard against her back. "We can't stop, Sansa. We haven't ridden nearly enough. And you're making me lose my mind. All I want is to get off this horse and fuck you into the ground, girl. Fucking hells, what am I going to do with you?" He pulled her even closer now, so that every step forward Stranger took had Sandor grinding into Sansa's back. Gods, I love when he says things like that!
Turning her head around as much as she could, Sansa strained to make herself heard over Stranger's breathing and the crash of his running through the woods.
"I'm sorry, my love. I can't help myself. I don't know what is wrong with me to feel this way so much. Maybe I have a sickness." Sansa was upset at how strongly she believed that might be true. "I can stop. I will stop."
"Silly Little Bird. You have no sickness. It is supposed to feel this way. And I love that you are this way. Perfect for me, Sansa, you're fucking perfect. Don't stop. Here, I'll even help you along. Turn back around."
Sansa was blushing furiously, but Sandor's reassurance made her feel better, for now. She did as she was told, and turned back around so she was facing the back of Stranger's head. Sandor moved his arm back around her waist, holding her to him tightly. He used his arm and Stranger's rhythm while he ran to shift Sansa's hips, so that her covered woman's place could get friction with Stranger's saddle.
"Gods," she whispered. They continued to ride. Sandor was more distracted now, not paying as much attention to his surroundings, and Sansa vaguely hoped that would not hurt them. She could not bear the thought of her own lack of control being the reason they were attacked or captured. Luckily, Stranger could steer himself. He was as smart as he was dangerous, this warhorse.
Sansa gave into the feelings. She leaned her head back against Sandor's chest, ignored the harsh bite of the armor and mail and how her hair was stuck in it at places. She looked at him this way, seeing him looking down at her. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss on her lips, then surged her hips forward and down, harder than he had before. Sansa could not stop the groan that escaped her lips as he did this. And then again. And again.
He was driving her crazy and it felt amazing. But it was not enough. There was not enough pressure on her woman's place to bring her to her peak. After several more minutes, she cried out in frustration.
"Sandor, please, it's not enough. I need more, please, gods!" She was desperate. She could ignore the ache for a while, but now that he was aware and was trying to do something about it, she could not forget it. She felt like she was kindling that was just about to catch. But there wasn't enough to set her on fire the way she wanted to be.
She heard his rough growl as he shifted her again, and this time his arms as well. He gripped Stranger's reins tightly with one hand. The other was holding her hip now, and running down her thigh. He growled again.
"Pull up your skirts, Sansa." Both of his hands took the reins again, while she complied.
"Here, hold on to my arms, and do not let go." Sansa held on tightly to Sandor's arm that held the reins, and wrapped her arm about his other arm, which was now between her legs.
The Little Bird is going to kill us yet, he thought, in wild disbelief.
Sandor had been hard for what seemed like hours. Might have been. Sansa just was too much. She held on to him so tightly, and he could feel all her warmth and love and trust in how she held him. She was pressed back into him, and her body was too delicious to ignore, even as he tried to focus on keeping them moving and keeping them safe. Almost two days in that inn, in a bed, had programmed him to react too strongly to his Little Bird's body. Stranger's constant motion made it impossible for Sandor to will himself down.
Then Sansa started grinding her hips into Stranger's saddle. Seven fucking hells, this girl is insatiable! I fucking love it! He could not believe it as he felt her shift and move herself, getting herself pressure where she needed it without his help. Who would have ever believed that perfect little Sansa Stark, the perfect innocent lady, would be trying to find her pleasure on a warhorse's saddle? You've fucked her up well and proper, dog.
Sandor couldn't help but love it, though. She was everything he would have ever wanted. So spirited and excitable. Won't stop it from killing us though, whether you like it or not dog. He had all but abandoned his watch while he rode Stranger. He had all but let Stranger take control of their journey, so he could play with his Little Bird instead. He had grabbed her and took control of her motion, so he could be the one driving her to her peak. Be the one to send her over. He liked being able to do that for her. But it wasn't enough for her and she was getting frustrated. Aye, I know the feeling, Little Bird.
So Sandor had done the honorable thing (yeah, right, dirty fucking dog!) and told his Little Bird to lift her skirts. She had, desperately and whimpering. He had took hold of Stranger's reins in one hand and placed the other at Sansa's cunt. He had told her, then, to grab his arms, which she did. He couldn't have his Little Bird falling off of Stranger, after all.
Sandor found her cunt dripping through her smallclothes. Bugger me, I love her. Love that I do this to her. Lucky fucking dog. He wasted no time in pressing her nub, exactly where she needed to be touched. He knew how badly she needed to come, so he did not take his time with her. He started rubbing her hard and fast. Aye, and maybe she'll give you some relief and fall asleep after this.
Sansa had her head back on his chest and he found it impossible to not stare down at her. Good fucking thing I can trust Stranger to lead us right. He won't run us into any ditches or off any fucking cliffs or into any traps. This horse is smarter than I am, and probably more deadly. Good thing, too, considering the position you're in now, dog. He watched her eyes widen and then close as he rubbed her. Saw her mouth moving, whispering his name and "my love" and begging and pleading. Fuck. He moved his hand faster, pulled her back to him tighter. Wish we weren't on a bloody horse.
"Come on, Little Bird," he urged her, "come for me, love." He bent to kiss her again, and fought the urge to plunge his fingers deep inside her as he felt her muscles start to clench and spasm. Soon, dog. Soon you'll be doing that with her. Won't be able to stop yourself.
He kept rubbing her gently, throughout her orgasm, until she was whimpering and melting into him completely. He took his hand away then, lowered her skirt as best he could, and kissed her head.
"Rest now. We have much farther to go before we can stop." You're going soft, dog, he thought, as he looked down at his blushing Little Bird and smiled like a fool.
Honestly, what can I say? These two like to play...