She'd done her very best to appear a woman, a true lady, to Lord Wyl...and apparently something – or everything – that she had done had worked. As the handmaiden and the guard - Sarai and Willem, Sansa reminded herself, wanting to remember their names so that she could properly thank them - led them down a long, narrow passage and up a set of winding stairs to a guest room high up in one of the towers, Sandor continued to glance around suspiciously. She was at once amused at and grateful for his caution, and after the harrowing hour or so that they'd just endured she wanted more than anything to be swept into his arms, to feel his lips on hers.
Unfortunately, at the last moment Lord Wyl had decided that if Sandor was to sleep in the room with her, the handmaiden Sarai must do so as well. Propriety, he had called it, and though Sansa had of course agreed, inside she was practically seething. She'd had to take a deep breath and tell herself that this was how it would be from now on - that no respectable house would allow her and Sandor the closeness, the intimacy, the privacy, that they'd had in the godswood at King's Landing or during their many nights on the road to the seat of House Wyl.
Though it was clear that they were to be housed in a chamber befitting Sansa's station, she could not help but note how far they had climbed up into the tower. The windows here had no panes - probably they didn't need them, not this far south - but they were high on the walls and so narrow that while she could possibly squeeze out of one of them, Sandor certainly couldn't. And even if she were able to scramble up to one of the tall, narrow slits in the wall, how would she get down to the ground once she'd slipped through it?
Sandor must have caught her eying the windows, for he chuckled darkly and leaned in close to her ear. "Looking for escape routes too, I see." Sansa grimaced, and he continued, "We'll figure it out if we have to, but don't think for a second that they don't know what they're doing, putting us up in this particular room."
Willem the guard suddenly cleared his throat. "Pardons, my lady," he said, "but now that you're here in the room, I must go find a pallet for your man and a kitchen maid to bring you food and drink. Will you be needing anything else?"
"No, thank you," Sansa waved him off. "Once we have eaten I think we will be more than ready to sleep. I'll need a bath in the morning, though...if that's possible. It's been some time since I had a proper one." Though she'd bathed in a stream the day before, the water had been almost brackish, and she still felt positively grimy...but she was too tired to wait for a tub and water just now, so tired that she could not stop her eyes from wandering to the bed over and over again as Willem spouted a few more courtesies and promises to return soon with bedding for Sandor and food for them both. The girl, Sarai, settled herself in a chair by the fire, eliciting a glare from Sandor that thankfully only Sansa noticed. After all, the poor maid couldn't help that she'd been assigned to keep watch over them.
Soon a straw pallet - musty, but clean - arrived in the arms of Willem and another guard. They laid it on the floor just to the left of the doorway and took their leave, though only a few minutes later a plump, almost pretty young woman arrived, carrying a platter of thin, almost sweet-smelling breads, a sort of brown paste with a garlicky tang, a bowl of cheese crumbles whose taste seemed to sit in the back of Sansa's nose, some rich dark olives and a jug of strongwine that she and Sandor enjoyed overmuch. By the time the fire had died down to mere embers and the candles had been blown out, Sarai was snoring softly in her chair and it took every bit of self-restraint Sansa possessed to place only a single gentle kiss on Sandor's scarred cheek and slide under the coverlets of her own bed. She listened to him divest himself of most of his clothes and lower himself onto the rustling straw pallet, but after laying there for quite some time his breathing still hadn't slowed and deepened, and she knew that he still hadn't fallen asleep, either.
Sarai, on the other hand, was still snoring - and making quite a bit more noise than she had been, to boot. All Sansa could think of just now was how she wished to be laying at Sandor's side. She imagined him running his hand over her thigh, cupping her bottom, gently pressing his fingers into her folds...these thoughts were almost maddening; she could feel the familiar hot pressure begin to build in her woman's place, and eventually she simply couldn't take it anymore.
Sansa slipped out of her bed as silently as she could, creeping across the room and hoping that she would not bump into or trip over anything. Thankfully, the first and only thing her foot connected with was the edge of Sandor's pallet, and when she felt her toes hit it she immediately crouched down and slid onto the bed next to him.
"What are you doing, little bird?" Sandor asked, his voice a low rumble with more than a hint of warning to it.
"Hush," she murmured, pressing her body against his side and reaching for his manhood. He was wearing some sort of smallclothes, but they were loose enough and she was able to slide her hand down inside to find him already hard for her. Sansa couldn't help but automatically roll her hips against him, until with a sudden but soft growl Sandor slid one arm under her, tucking his hand into her smallclothes as well, running it gently over her arse until his long fingers reached between her thighs to tease her already-wet opening. She breathed a soft sigh into his ear, wishing he could speak to her, or her to him…but she knew that if they were to play like this they must remain as quiet as possible. She cupped her hand around his member and worked at him, so slowly that she worried her motions were more of a tease than anything else...unfortunately, even the slightest of movements caused the straw beneath them to rustle...
Suddenly Sandor jerked away from her, and for a moment Sansa wondered if she'd done something wrong - but no, he rolled onto his right side and reached for her with his free arm, then used his grip to spin her around, lifting her just slightly off the mattress to lessen the amount of noise these movements made. He then hugged her against himself, pressing his cock in the cleft of her bottom as he reached down the front of her smallclothes and began working his fingers over the little pearl of flesh that had become a nub hard with arousal. He was so practiced at this now as to be almost deft, and the feel of his calloused fingertips circling this most sensitive spot combined with the pressure of his erection nestled between her arse-cheeks quickly drove Sansa into a frenzy. She found herself arching her back, for doing so simultaneously increased that divine pressure caused by his cock and the urgency of his fingers between her legs.
Somehow the fact that they needed to be as silent as possible made it all feel even more intense, especially when Sansa had to bite back the maddening desire to moan, to pant, to speak his name. Instead she buried her face into the rough cloth of the pallet, buried it until she almost couldn't breath, and suddenly, with little of the buildup that she had come to expect from all their times together, her body convulsed in its pleasure, forcing her to clench her thighs and her teeth as tears came to her eyes due to the sheer strength of this physical completion. Sandor clearly realized what was happening, for he suddenly stilled his fingers over her nub, pinching it and moving with her as she rolled through her finish until suddenly he bit down on her shoulder, hard enough that she nearly cried out, his body trembling violently for a few moments before he stilled and quickly pulled his mouth away from her.
They lay there for some time, she still wrapped in his arms, though quite a bit more loosely than before. Sansa felt herself drifting off to sleep, her body sated, exhausted, happy to be held by this man...but Sandor was clearly more concerned about the other person in the room, for eventually he released his hold on Sansa and pushed her away from him, not ungently. "Go to your own bed, little bird. We don't want to ruin the good luck we've had here by being discovered sleeping together. Half naked," he added, as if that would matter so much were they to be found in such a compromising position in the first place. Sansa sighed, but she knew that he was right; and so, brushing a soft kiss across his forehead, she slid out of his bed, tiptoed across the room, and climbed back into her own. Her whole body was still pulsing with warmth - and gods, was it still need, somehow?
One thing was for certain; she would definitely need that bath tomorrow morning.