Welcome back all! I hope we're enjoying my OC bc I love her.
Sandor Clegane has had just about enough of the royal twits ninnery. He'd decided mid way through his fencing lessons that he was finished with his whining and took to looking at the sky instead of watching Jofferey's instructor. If the swordsman hurt the boy it would've been entertainment, The Hound decided he'd even congratulate the poor bastard as the executioner took his head.
"You're supposed to let me win you half wit!" Jofferey screeched, lunging angrily at his teacher. The Hound groaned inwardly as the instructor started to slow his pace.
"The boy won't learn anything if you coddle him!" A voice came suddenly from the grand stand. The Hound huffed, relieved as the imp, Tyrion Lannister, made his way to the practice grounds. Jofferey glared at him coldly, sword not dropping to his side. Sandor raised an eyebrow as he watched the passive aggressive statement from his king. Tyrion Lannister seemed to notice it too as a sly smiled played on the imp's face. "Careful nephew, the pointy end is at eye height."
"What do you want imp." Jofferey demanded. Tyrion ignored him with a simple tut, taking his index finger and pushing the sword towards the dirt.
"The Queen Regent wishes an audience with you, Your Grace." Tyrion playfully pouted at being called imp, much to his nephew's chagrin. The Hound bit back a smirk; as irritating as the imp was it was surprisingly refreshing to see it directed at someone other than himself.
"What for? Can you not see that I am practicing?"
"Oh, indeed, My Lord, and your practice is obviously necessary, but as King of the Seven Realms, there are other tasks that need your direct attention, besides fencing practice and showing young women of the court their father's head on a spike." Tyrion told his nephew. Sandor grew rigid, he had been there that day when Jofferey had taken Sansa to see her father's head. The little wolf had nearly pushed him to his death, now that would have been a sight.
"You hold your tongue, imp, or I'll-"
"What? Show me someone's head on a spike?" The imp goaded. The Hound stood taller as Jofferey threw him a look.
"Dog, take the evening off." Jofferey commanded, to which Sandor did not complain. It'd been weeks since he'd had a night off and he missed his wine.
"Go find a brothel. Your mood has been foul as of late." The Imp called to him, as Jofferey tossed his sword absent mindedly at his intructor, nearly cutting the fools hand off. Sandor growled, he hated that imp, like he could read his bloody thoughts.
"Aye." The Hound barked, bowing to his king. The little shit was right, he's been needing good cooze, it had been just as long since he'd been with the Dornish whore.
Littlefinger's brothel was much busier today than it had been the last time he'd visited, so he was surprised to find that the Dornish woman was free for his taking. Once again when he walked in, every woman stopped to look at him and every man shivered at his presence. The brothel stopped around him and he relished in it, biting back a self satisfied smirk.
"Ah, Hooouuunnd." He heard from a far corner, his name spoken with a very distinct accent as it's speaker drew out the word playfully. The Dornish whore, she remembered him. She smiled at him wryly from where she sat on a well cushioned chair, a large book in her hand. He scanned the cover, a romantic tale of course, which surprised him in a whore house, even if it was a woman reading it.
"Woman." He spoke cooly. The girl's smile only widened as she slunk off her chair, placing her book where her perky ass once sat. She was bare foot and today wore her hair in a tight, southern updo, which didn't suit her high, foreign cheekbones. A sheer tunic dress covered her lithe body, leaving little to the imagination. She placed two, tiny fingers on the abdomen of his breastplate, walking them slowly up his breastplate before tapping it with her nails, almost as if she were annoyed.
"You always come in here so... armed." She told him sweetly, rubbing her palm down his armor. "We're whores, not assassins, Not Ser." Again with the teasing, but even Sandor had to admit, her mischievous smile only increased her sex appeal. He followed her eyes around the brothel, by now it had returned to its bustling, lascivious nature. She went to pull her hand away but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist suddenly. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, her brown eyes sparkling.
"I wish to keep you for the night, woman." Sandor growled, shoving her hand away from him. She looked down at where he had just been holding her wrist, before glancing up at him, that mischievous sparkle gone.
"Elyria." She leered at him, annoyed?
"I don't care." Sandor told her plainly. If he wanted to know his fuck's name he would have asked.
"You will if you want to spend a night with me." The girl told him quietly as she began to walk away.
"You would turn away a customer?" The Hound growled, stopping her in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking.
"I would."
"You can't."
"I can." She said evenly, turning her body to look at him. "That was my agreement for working in the pleasure houses. Dornish women have certain... beliefs we uphold."
"Even whores like you?" The Hound questioned.
"Even whores like me." The girl told him. Slowly she approached him, stopping with mere inches between them. "You may pay me to fuck you, but I let you inside of me, and that my hung friend-" She grabbed his member through his pants, squeezing it like the tease she was. "Means that I respect you and would like some in return." Sandor exhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes at her. If she had been anyone else who had talked to him like that, he'd have knocked her down a peg or two, but since she held his cock in her hands, and quite well, he relented. He'd have her snatch again, even if it meant that he had to learn her name.
"Elyria." He muttered huskily, scowling as he did. It felt wrong in his mouth and he felt weak in her hands. He should have stood his ground, found himself another whore, another would have probably been cheaper. Elyria smiled at him, but not like she was proud of herself, not like she was going to rub it in his face that he had yielded to a whore. Her smiled showed nothing but actual pleasure at hearing her name.
"Come." She whispered, leading him to her chambers once again. This time upon entering he noticed a pleasant smell, something flowery and womanly. In several large vases scattered about the room sat colorful bouquets of flowers all with a heavy aroma. "You like them?" Elyria's voice came suddenly, as Sandor had been caught lingering too long on one of the vases. "Lilies of the Vale, my favorite."
"I don't care." The Hound growled, going to remove his armor. "I'm not your lover, tell it to him." He muttered, his armor removed. Elyria frowned, crossing the room to him and finding the string on his pants. Slowly she began to work it loose her eyes never leaving his face. The Hound growled at her, shoving her away.
"Intimacy is not your forte, is it, Hound?"
"Fuck intimacy. If I wanted intimacy I'd get a wife." He snarled. Elyria raised an eyebrow at him.
"What an interesting sentiment. You'd get a wife for intimacy? Perhaps you're not a dog after all." Elyria told him. She was trying Sandor's patience, he was determined to walk out of this damn whore house and never come back.
"You read to much into it, girl. If I wanted fucking intimacy I wouldn't be in a whore house."
"Yet you chose the Dornish whore who believes that every sexual partner is intimate." Elyria smiled at him before kneeling in front of him. He groaned as she took him in her mouth, fighting the urge to bury his fingers deep in her thick, black hair.
The woman was good at what she does, the Dornish are known for their sexual prowess, that is why he picked her. She was letting her fantasies get to her head, that damn romance novel she was reading when he arrived, no doubt. Another groan, as he focused on her ministrations and less on what she'd said to him. He began to meet her face with thrust after thrust, finally grabbing her head with his hands.
And then she stopped, pulling away from him completely with a sinful smirk. It took all of the hounds effort to not slap her silly, he was so close to completion. Slowly she crawled onto her bed, looking at him before stretching out on the sheets.
"We have all night, do we not?" Sandor said nothing, instead he glowered at her angrily. Elyria pointed at him, beckoning him with a single, manicured nail. The Hound couldn't keep himself from following her order as he clumsily made his way up the bed after her.
Stay Beautiful!