[A/N]: Yay it's AxG week! I couldn't help myself and had to at least attempt to respond to one of the 7 prompts. Here is my take on the 'frenzy' tag and as always I couldn't help but weave a bit of smut in there. Enjoy and as always reviews are loved :)
He stormed out of the inn and into the pouring rain that did little to temper the boiling rage that bubbled within him. His breathing was unsteady and his heart beat furiously against his chest, begging to be let out of the rib encased cage. Pushing roughly at the door to his forge he slammed it shut behind him, causing the walls of his home to shake in response. "Fuck!" he shouted at no-one in particular, his voice echoing around the soot clad room.
He paced back and forth in an attempt to sooth the fury that beckoned to be released, but it did little to block the vision of her out of his mind. He had no right to feel the way he did he knew, yet as soon as he saw the man's hand caress her in a way he could only ever dream of something in him turned. His jaw tightened and all he could see was red. He wanted blood, his blood for touching her that way and looking at her that way. He wanted to kill every single man in that bloody inn for the impure thoughts he knew would be running rampant in their minds. The same thoughts that continuously ran through his mind day and night when he thought of her.
Shaking his head he planted both of his hands on the anvil, his fingers curling over the edge as his grip tightened. He tried to slow his breathing, taking in long deep breaths but nothing seemed to work. Images of her and that blonde haired, purple eyed lord kept invading his thoughts. They were probably already locked away in one of the more expensive rooms, a room that he would have to save moons for. He imagined Ned's greedy hands roaming over her petite frame. Groping and grabbing at everything as she wriggled beneath him. He imagined him slanting his mouth over hers and his tongue prodding in and out of her plump pink lips. He imagined the sound of her soft moans of pleasure as Ned inserted one of his fingers into her wetness, pushing in and out until she came screaming his name.
He closed his eyes to try and focus on anything but her. "Think of Hot Pie, think of Hot Pie," he mumbled over and over, but his mind wouldn't stop torturing him. The possibilities of what she and Ned were doing was making his head spin. He shouldn't have left her in there with him. He should have had the balls to go up to her and tell her how he felt. Instead he ran away like a craven, too scared to face her, too scared to tell her the truth about why he wanted to be knighted all those years ago. He did it for her. Everything was for her, why couldn't she see that? It's because she doesn't want you. She never wanted you. You're nothing but a bull-headed bastard. Not worthy of the Princess of the North, his mind taunting him.
Letting his rage consume him, he pushed over the anvil with ease, the loud thud and clattering of tools ringing in the room. Picking up one of the small wooden stools he had placed in the corner, he hurled it at one of the walls, watching as it splintered into tiny pieces. He grabbed at whatever he could find and flung it or snapped it. He was broken and he wanted everything around him to be broken too. When there was nothing left to smash he punched at the wall. His fists were bloodied, the skin peeling off his knuckles with each punch. He ignored the searing pain that shot through his body, gritting his teeth as he continued to pummel the defenceless wall.
"GENDRY!" he heard someone scream his name. Thinking it was his mind playing tricks on him, he continued to punch furiously at the still wall. The pain now forgotten as he was lost in a trance. "GENDRY!" he heard again. The high pitched shrill stilling his movements. Twisting his body he turned to face the owner of the voice, but was greeted by the silhouette of a hooded figure.
"Who are you?" he grunted, annoyed at being disturbed. He watched curiously as the person approached him slowly, drawing the hood down around them.
"What have you done?" her voice softer than usual. Her chestnut curls tumbled over her shoulder in a loose braid and her steely grey eyes looked like melted silver in the faint moonlight that streamed through one of the shattered windows.
He looked around him, the realisation of the damage he had done hitting him full force. "I…I" he stammered, before lowering his head in shame. He was unable to maintain eye contact with her, his actions surely proving he really was what they all said he was. A bastard.
"You're bleeding," she said as she took small tentative steps towards him. He felt her small hands clutch at his, his body flinching as her fingers ghosted over the tender flesh. "Why?" she asked.
He shook his head, unsure of how to answer. Because of you. It's always because of you. "I was angry," he confessed, still not looking her in the eyes.
"I can see that," she said with one eyebrow raised. "But why were you angry?"
"It's nothing you need to worry about princess," he replied flatly.
"Princess," she scoffed. "So we're back to that now are we?" bitterness creeping into her voice. "Well Sir Gendry, as your princess I demand you answer me."
His blue eyes shot up to find grey ones glaring back. "I saw something I didn't like," he shot back, the feelings from earlier beginning to resurface.
"And so you did this?" she said motioning towards the mess surrounding them. "And your hands Gendry. Whatever it was couldn't have been bad enough to make you do that to yourself."
It was, he thought. I'd cut my own arm off for you. "You wouldn't understand," he huffed turning away from her again.
She was too quick though, positioning herself directly in front of him again, only this time she was closer. A lot closer. "So help me," the softness in her tone returning. The cold steel that had been present in her eyes was now replaced with the glittering sparkle that had him falling in love with her all over again.
"I…I can't…I shouldn't," he said trying to distance himself from her but she had him cornered, his back now firmly planted against the wall. Although he towered over her, in that moment Arya Stark seemed like the most frightening yet beautiful creature he had ever seen. "Please Arya," he begged. Being this close to her was torture. The way she was looking at him, right through him, had his stomach churning and his heart racing. His throat was dry and his balls tightening as her scent filled his senses and the warmth of her body muddled with his.
Noticing the effect she was having on him, she grinned at him wickedly before pressing her body even closer to his. He groaned in response, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest sending a spark straight to his groin. "Why were you mad Gendry?" she asked again.
Just tell her you idiot. "He was touching you," his voice gruff. "And you seemed to like it," his teeth grinding with each word.
"You're jealous," it wasn't a question but a statement. "Ned means nothing to me," she said strongly. "He was never part of my pack." Her hands moved back down to grab hold of his. Without breaking eye contact, she brought his bloodied knuckles to her lips, blowing over them softly before pressing tender kisses to them. "But you…I could never forget you. No matter how hard I tried, you were always there."
He felt himself release a breath he didn't realise he was holding in. What was she saying? "I…I don't understand."
She giggled at his confusion, a bright smile forming on her pretty face. "And you wonder why I call you stupid," she japed. "I don't want Ned Gendry, the only man I've ever wanted was you."
He shook his head, "but I'm just a bastard."
She smiled at him. "My bastard," she said possessively. "My Gendry."
His eyes flicked down to her lips before he licked his own subconsciously. Her hands found their way to his shoulders and his rested on her hips. Who moved first he couldn't tell, all he knew was that her lips were on his and they felt softer and tasted sweeter than he ever imagined. His tongue begged her mouth for entrance as it ran along the bottom of her lip. Arya obliged, their tongues clashing against one another for control. To his surprise Arya yielded, something in the back of his mind warning him that it wouldn't always be this easy. They broke contact momentarily, both gasping for air before returning to their heated kiss.
Her hands travelled up to the base of his neck, anchoring herself to him as he pushed her body closer to his. Moving his grip from her hips to her arse, he lifted her tiny body off the ground, allowing Arya to wrap her legs around his waist. With her centre pressed firmly against his growing arousal, she began to rock her hips as the kiss deepened. His mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses along her jawline and neck until he reached the crook of her neck that had her whimpering with want. "Do you like that m'lady?" It was his turn to tease. When all he got was a low threatening growl, he returned to his kisses, the wanton sounds he ripped from her lips urging him to continue.
His head was spinning, the accumulation of her moans and the feel of her body writhing with his almost making him come undone in his breeches. Mustering up the will power to stop he pulled away from her, earning another less than pleased bark from Arya. Before she was able to barrage him with a long list of insults, he threw her over his shoulder and hurriedly made it to the small cot he called his bed. As gently as he could, he lay her down before proceeding to crawl on top of her and resume their actions from earlier.
"Please Gendry, please," she begged. He knew what she was asking and maybe if he wasn't made of bastard blood he would ignore her urgent pleas. Being the bastard that he was he complied, swiftly helping her out of the blue grey gown that made her look every bit the lady she so desperately tried to hide. In nothing but her small clothes, Gendry sat back, his eyes taking every inch of newly exposed skin.
"You're so beautiful Arry," his voice husky. She blushed at that, her cheeks a pretty pink to match her now swollen and reddened lips.
"Thank you," she said shyly before reaching up for him. She helped him out of his tunic, his bare chest now on display for her wondering eyes. Her long fingers traced patterns along his torso, mapping out the contours of his defined abdomen. His eyes shut on instinct, her feather light touches providing a calming effect. Her touches went lower and lower until they hooked into the waistband of his breeches.
"Arry," he said pained. Wanting so very much to be able to resist but not wanting to at the same time.
"I'm sure Gendry," she answered in understanding to his warring mind. She eased himself out of his breeches, his cock jutting out proudly. Her eyes widened in shock, but that was short lived as one of her tentative hands began to stroke him. Moving up and down he groaned as she tightened her grip, her thumb rubbing at the pools of pre-cum on the head of his throbbing shaft. "Stand up," she ordered.
His eyes flew open, the confused look on his face apparent as she giggled. "Whhatt?" he choked out.
"Stand up," she ordered again, her voice unwavering. He stood on shaky legs, still at a loss at what was going on. Has she changed her mind? He watched as she stripped the last bit of clothing covering her body, his hand reaching out to cup one of her perfectly rounded breasts. "Later," she grinned, slapping his hand away. He was nervous but excited at what Arya had planned. She was eyeing his cock hungrily, her tongue peeking out of her mouth as she licked her lips. Before he had time to react she lowered herself so her face was level to his crotch. In one swift movement her mouth was on him. The wet and warm sensation making him buck into her.
"Fuck!" he growled as she took him in bit by bit. His hand grasped the back of her head as he weaved his fingers into her thick unruly curls. "Gods Arry," he said over and over again as she moved up and down his length. One of her hands gripped his backside with the other cupping his balls, rolling them with her nimble fingers. He bit down on his tongue in an attempt to delay reaching his peak, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. It didn't help that Arya was making these sounds that only made him want to drive into her harder. "Arry…I'm…I'm," he started but before the words could spill from his mouth, he felt his release hit him. He did his best to pull out, but Arya held her position firmly swallowing his seed with ease.
She looked like a goddess, her hair now loose from its braid, cascading over her shoulders and covering her pert breasts. With one final lick to the tip of his cock she sat back on the cot, her hand seizing his as she pulled him on top of her. "Who would have thought you could be so sweet," she smiled pushing the hair out of his eyes.
He smiled back, grabbing hold of her hand and placing soft kisses along her wrist. His mouth captured hers, the kiss slower, deeper and full of longing. He let his fingers travel down the planes of her lithe body, lingering at her breasts longer than necessary and toying with her nipples until they were stiff and hard under his touch. They ventured down further to her slick heat, her arousal coating his fingers. He attempted to insert a finger into her tight folds but hissed in pain. "Your hands," she panted memories of his earlier actions plaguing his mind. You bloody idiot, he chastised himself mentally.
"It's ok," he assured. "It doesn't hurt that much," he lied. "I just forgot," he finished lamely.
"No," she replied firmly. "I don't need you to do that Gendry," she said stroking his cheek. "I'm ready."
Before he could summon a reply she cut him off, briskly crashing her mouth on his. This time she took charge, her tongue victorious in their little dance. He positioned himself at her entrance, allowing his member to slide up and down her slit before working its way into her. She was so tight and he was afraid she would break if he pushed any further. "I'm ok," she smiled. "I promise." He rest his forehead against hers and continued to ease himself into her. It took every single bit of restraint he had to stop himself from pounding into her. He could feel the barrier of her maidenhead, his eyes seeking hers for final approval. She kissed him in reply and he held that kiss, until he was all the way inside her.
Her movements stilled as she allowed her walls to accommodate the intrusion, but began to roll her hips experimentally. "Move," she whispered and he happily complied. He moved slowly at first, allowing her to match his pace, but soon it became frantic. Her sounds of discomfort evaporating into shrieks of pleasure. "Ge…Ge…Gendry," she howled over and over. Their bodies were dripping in sweat, causing them to slip and slide over each other. It was a frenzy of moans and groans and slaps and snaps as he bucked wildly into her.
He was on the verge of seeking his release but held out for her. He wanted to feel her come undone with him still inside her. "Please Arry," he begged. "Come for me, come for me," he pleaded. Their eyes locked, blue focused on grey and that was all it took to send her crashing over the edge. He watched in wonder as the aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her body. The flood of her juices and the clamping of her walls helped him find his second release of the night, his seed spilling into her.
He placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then to the tip of her nose, rolling to the side so his full weight wasn't pressed against her. He pulled her small form into him, her body fitting perfectly against his. The missing piece to make him feel whole again. "I love you," he whispered into her hair. "I've always loved you."
She stroked his face in amazement, a radiant smile planted firmly on her face. "I know," she confessed. "That's why I came back. Every wolf needs a mate Gendry and you're mine. So if you ever try and leave me again I'll cut off your balls and feed them to Nymeria."
He chuckled at her idle threat. "I'd rather die than leave your side," he said tightening his hold on her. "And if I see Ned so much as look at you like that again I'll cut off his balls and feed them to Nymeria myself."