A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM. And the title of the fic is taken from Loreena McKennitt's, Dante's Prayer which is a huge inspiration for this story ;) and there will be times when her lyrics are used here.
* My thanks as always go to the great onborrowedwings & nysandra for their help with the chapter!
*Also, to my dearest friend Luvxena, you know how much I owe you for your help in this chapter! Thank you and *Hugs*
- The story though mainly book canon, can still apply for the HBO show (I don't anything from the tv show either).
- The story will contain dialogue from both the books and the show.
*Warning: This chapter has explicit (yet consensual) content, thus the rating goes up for it. So yeah… you've been warned beforehand ;')
39. How Fragile is the Heart
Sansa was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the beeswax candle burning on the bedside table, waiting for Sandor. Waiting for my husband. Gods, these words were so hard to believe, even after their wedding ceremony. She couldn't stop thinking of Sandor as anything but her husband, hoping that maybe this way the truth of their new reality would finally sink in.
Sandor had left her to briefly check on Stranger and Nan, and to make sure he didn't see anyone suspicious lurking around at The Inn of the Green Eel. Sansa didn't know what to do with herself from the moment her big man had left her. She had gone to stare for a long moment at the parchment the septon had given them, which confirmed that their marriage had indeed happened and was legitimate. It bore the signatures of Lord Davos, Hagen Edar and a cross that represented Osha the wildling's mark.
Sansa had even unlaced the back of her wedding gown when she gathered that she didn't want it to be ripped off of her in their haste and eagerness once her husband was back. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the laces and the buttons at the back of her dress, then she hugged herself and paced across the bedroom floor, gulping nervously, and walked over to sit on the bed, losing herself once again in the memories of their wedding. Of the songs, the promises, the cloaks and kisses that had been exchanged; how they had all bound her and Sandor together and forever in marriage in sight of the Seven.
When Sansa was a little girl she had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, so it was no wonder that when the septon had at long last proclaimed her and Sandor joined together in marriage, she had been overwhelmed. Even now it was difficult to keep herself from smiling as she recalled the way Sandor had looked throughout the whole ceremony, and humming a songto herself.
Sansa could not so easily forget the losses she and little Rickon had suffered, but it would have been impossible for her not to feel happiness beyond what words could ever express as Sandor pledged his love for her, everything they had lived through together in the past months rushing through her mind. It gave their wedding a beautiful meaning Sansa would never have imagined possible, for there was nothing between her big man and her now but the most sincere and purest love, of the sort that could endure and survive any sort of tribulations.
He is my home, Sansa told herself, realizing that she wasn't scared about what was about to happen between them, though she was nervous. Her gaze swept around the room, thinking it odd that rather than feeling hatred towards this chamber–the place where only yesterday she had given herself over to grief–she was actually finding it a comforting space.
It was barely an hour after dusk, but the Secret City was already quickly getting dark. The roaring fire and the few candles kept the night's chill and the shadows away, though. Sansa reached out for her little wooden figures of the gods, the carved Warrior and Maiden that had accompanied her and her big man ever since Pentos, and brought them to her lips, kissing them once.
"Thank you for allowing us this," she whispered to the gods, her mouth moving above the wood. "For sending Sandor to me on the night the Blackwater burned."
Now all that she could hope for was that they had a lifetime to enjoy this new bond. A few moments later, as Sansa ran her fingers through her curls absentmindedly, Sandor finally returned.
Her husband knocked the secret code they had established between them, calling to her to open up. With her heart beating quickly, Sansa made for the door, looking for a moment at her reflection in the mirror of the room, happy to see that she looked as beautiful as earlier in the day, when she'd first donned her wedding gown in the colors of House Stark. She unlocked the door, letting her big man in, stepping beside the door.
"Is everything all right?" Sandor asked her in his rough voice, looking around the room before settling his grey gaze on her.
Sansa gazed up at him through her long eyelashes, and blushed as she answered, "Yes. You?"
"The horses are fine, and I don't think we are being followed," he grinned down at her.
Sandor was dressed plainly, wearing an old yet clean set of breeches, his tunic and his mail. Both their wedding cloaks had been left behind with Osha, who had taken them as well as Sansa's brother back to the small house by Ragman's Harbor.
He barred the door, staring at her like a hawk might a little bird, both very aware of what was about to happen, causing an awkward silence to descend between them. But it only lasted for a few heartbeats, for Sandor snorted at their behavior and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close to him. Sansa leaned into him as he stroked her back, hearing the strong beat of his heart as she pressed her cheek on his chest.
When he kissed the top of her head, Sansa's eyes fell on the two wooden cups and the flagon of wine sitting on the surface of the sideboard.
"I missed you, little bird," Sandor growled, his breath hot in her ear as he brought his burned mouth to kiss her forehead and her cheek.
"Me too," she admitted, hugging him tighter. "Would… would you like some wine?"
Shrugging and tucking a strand of her hair away from her face, he said, "Sure, if you like."
She stepped away from him and made her way to the sideboard, filling a wooden goblet for each of them. She handed Sandor his cup, and smiled at him before draining her cup in three long swallows, her eyes never leaving his face. He reached out to hold her hand while he drank his own wine. Sansa was more aware of her big man's eyes on her than she was on serving herself a second cup of wine until Sandor chuckled, a sour sound, part chuckle, part a snarl.
"I wouldn't drink too much if I were you, little bird," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze. "You can't hold your wine."
Sansa laughed at those words. "You're one to talk. Do you remember Great Norvos?"
Laughing with her, Sandor replied roughly, "Buggering hells, Sansa, I do remember, but that's the only time I ever got roaring drunk. Do you remember the first time you drank too much wine in Pentos, little wife? Or the visits to the taverns with Frema and Vintos, or that inn in Lorath when you made me dance with you?"
Sansa smiled. She had often daydreamed of how she would dance at her wedding, with every eye upon her and her handsome lord.
"Sandor, first, I–I didn't drink so much on those occasions, and secondly, are you really telling me not to drink too much?" she teased, taking another swallow of the wine just to provoke him further as his hand pulled her close to him. "Gods be good, what is the world coming to?"
"Bugger me if I know, little bird, but I'll be damned if I start complaining about how things are turning out between us," Sandor replied, laughing.
When Sansa's chuckles died away, she looked around the room and walked over to the open window, taking a deep breath. She stood on the spot where moonlight was spilling across the wooden floor, still holding the wooden cup in her hand, with her back to the man who had become so very dear to her.
She swirled the wine around in her cup while her eyes were closed as she recalled the past, wondering at the way things had indeed turned out between them. Hearing the sound of her husband pulling off his boots, and the rustle of clothing as he undressed himself and unbuckled his swordbelt while the cold night air caressed her cheeks, a familiar warm funny feeling settled below her tummy as the tension between them increased. Reacting to the sounds of Sandor's boots hitting the floor, and of his swordbelt being placed on the bed's head post, fear and excitement clashed to win her over, feeling Sandor's eyes upon her all the while.
Sansa tried to listen instead to the wind howling outside, or to the sounds coming from the streets of Braavos, even to the crackling of the fire. Anything not to let the sound of my beating heart distract me. The night was so cold, too cold. Maybe that was why she was able to feel the warmth of Sandor's body when he strode over to stand behind her as she barred the window, shutting the world away for this night. Her husband began to massage her shoulders in soothing movements, easing the tension away.
"Are you all right?" Sandor asked her with concern in his rasping voice, placing his chin on her shoulder as he brought his strong arms around her, wrapping her in a powerful embrace. She gulped in awareness that he was no longer wearing his tunic.
Sansa stared down at the cup in her hands. "Yes, darling."
"What is it, Sansa?" he insisted, not one bit persuaded, pressing her closer to him.
"Nothing," she said, as her tummy tightened into a knot.
"Tell me, little bird."
"It's just that I was thinking about something Lord Davos told me as we waited outside the sept once everyone had gone inside."
Stiffening behind her, her big man snarled, "And what did that stinking Onion have to say?"
"He told me what you said to him about me yesterday," Sansa confessed, running her hands across Sandor's forearms. "He said that you truly do know me, for you had seemed so certain that by today I would be able to lift my head up high, ready to go back to Westeros at once. He told me that he was glad to see I had the courage to survive."
Sansa had stood speechless as Lord Seaworth told her about the length Sandor had gone to defend her to him, a memory that made her reflect upon the words of her family. Winter is coming. If what I am doing right now is surviving, Sansa thought, then it is surely because of Sandor that I find the strength to do so.
Sandor had never missed an opportunity to tell her how awful he believed the world to be since she first met him, and yet Sansa knew that her big man could not bear to have its cruelty touch her in any way if he could help it. And he had behaved like this ever since their time in the Red Keep. He told me he hated liars again and again, and yet lied on my behalf more than once, and encouraged me to lie if I wanted to survive Joffrey. She could never doubt his love now, nor that he would ever fail in keeping her safe and protected.
"My strong she-wolf," Sandor whispered behind her, kissing her neck and making her lean against his comforting hard chest while she trembled slightly. It only served to make him embrace her ever closer, a gesture she found reassuring.
"Do you know how lucky we are?" Sansa heard herself ask out loud. "People usually end up marrying someone who either loves them more than they do them, or less, but we both truly love each other."
"Aye, little bird," her big man growled behind her in his rough voice. "And that's not something I'm likely to ever forget."
She suddenly felt Sandor's hard manhood pressing against the small of her back, sending a ripple of arousal coursing through her body, and she whimpered slightly. Closing her eyes, she dropped her wine cup to the floor. She felt Sandor shudder while he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He always seemed to know how to touch her, for his every movement and his every caress felt just right.
Sansa leaned the side of her head on Sandor's as he asked her, "Do you remember our first night in Pentos? When we first arrived in Essos?"
Smiling, Sansa nodded and ran her hands alongside the length of Sandor's arms again, entwining her hands in his huge ones. "I remember."
I was no longer scared of you by then. I wanted you to kiss me, Sansa recalled. I think I may have even started falling in love with you since that night, so long ago.
"It was the first time I sang Florian and Jonquil to you, big man," she continued.
Sandor laughed at that for some reason. "Aye, it was. Time flew by so damned quickly, didn't it?"
She knew what he meant. By dawn they would be sailing for Westeros, leaving the East behind them, possibly forever.
"This is the last night of our journey, my beautiful little bird," Sandor told her.
"No," Sansa heard herself reply in a strong and steady voice, turning around so that she could face him, determined to find happiness tonight with the man she loved, joy to distract her if even for the briefest of moments from her grief. I will only ever be able to trust him with my secrets. Only allow my true self to show around him. Maybe tonight shouldn't be any different. If there was anyone who could help her cope with the pain, whom she could show her vulnerability to and lose herself in, it was him.
Looking up at Sandor and raising her hand to cup his burned cheek, a gesture which he had long ago stopped shying away from, Sansa went on. "No, Sandor. This is our first night together."
Sandor, her lord and her husband, grinned at her words, a glint appearing in his grey eyes that transformed him into the most handsome man in the world to her. Allowing her eyes to drink in the sight of her husband, at all of him, Sansa looked to her heart's content, letting her gaze roam over Sandor's hard body, and at the way the firelight and gathering darkness played shadows across his skin and long limbs. He has the body of the Warrior made flesh. It was there for her to see, on his heavily muscled chest, arms, torso, and the wide expanse of his shoulder blades. Even across his jaw.
He had the finest wide chest, covered in smooth dark hairs that trailed down the hard defined muscles of his stomach. He is so strong, and he's all mine. His magnificently muscled torso made Sansa lick her lips while her eyes returned to meet Sandor's, who had been holding his breath with an approving grin upon his face as he looked down at her, watching her hungrily.
She took in the fine details of his gaunt face in a way she had never done before, peering deeply at both sides. From his sharp cheekbones and heavy brow to his large and hooked nose, looking over his thick shoulder-length dark hair, which he still wore long and brushed sideways to hide the lack of hair on the other side.
Trailing her fingertips lightly across his scarred temple, Sansa brushed away the strands of dark hair there, gazing at the hole that remained of his ear and at the twisted mass of scars covering half his features. She looked over the slick dark flesh that was hard as leather and pocked with craters and fissured by deep cracks, and saw the hint of bone where his flesh had been seared away, down by his strong jaw.
"My husband," she whispered, relishing the way those two words sounded when she said them out loud.
Sandor's eyes were narrowed, searching for something in her eyes, trying to confirm that there wasn't a single trace of reluctance regarding what they were about to do within her features. It only served to make her love him even more in these moments, for the intensity of his gaze had her shivering pleasurably.
Sansa stood on tiptoes, tilting her head up as Sandor leaned down, drawing closer, his large hands resting on her waist to help steady her. Whatever tension there had been within her body had slipped away easily, smoothly, as their faces drew closer to bare inches from each other.
Sandor claimed her mouth, his scarred lips searching for hers slowly, nibbling at them before they deepened the kiss. Sansa threw one arm around his neck just so she could cling to him, as the other hand started to caress and run down Sandor's bare chest, before going over the small of his back, the hard muscles underneath her palm making her legs go weak.
Having such a powerful male body shudder underneath her touch woke something deep within Sansa, and it had her gasping into the kiss as their tongues slid together. Sandor traced her upper lip with the tip of his tongue while their teeth clashed together almost in desperation. His huge hands gripped her body urgently, almost roughly, before moving to her back, sliding up towards the laces of her wedding gown.
When she felt his hands trying to tear at the fabric of her dress and undergarment, Sansa broke the kiss with a moan, driving Sandor to open his eyes while he blinked down at her, a slightly puzzled look on his face. She reluctantly let go of his lower scarred lip which she had been biting.
"You taste of wine," Sandor told her at last, grinning, arching his eyebrow down at her, his hands spanning her waist.
"You too," she replied, giggling at how silly that sounded, conscious of how swollen her lips felt and the blush that was creeping up her neck.
She buried her face against Sandor's chest before kissing the hollow of his neck and the underside of his jaw as she stood on tiptoes, loving the way he smelled and how warm his skin was, as her arms went around his waist, her hands trailing down his back.
"Sandor, I…" she began to say, but her big man nodded, leaning down to press another kiss upon her mouth. "I know, little bird. I love you, too. So fucking much you have no idea how it hurts."
She started pressing little kisses all over his muscled chest at that, remembering the first time she had explored his body with her mouth. Her tongue then licked the burn scars that lingered on his neck since he had been a little boy. Sansa was glad to have done this to Sandor when they were back in Lorath, or she would have been even more nervous than she was now. Yet tonight, knowing that they didn't have to stop, that there was no need for drawbacks or restraints, made it even better, for it was all so new and exciting.
Sandor dug his fingers into her skin, holding on to her while she brushed her lips against his shoulder blade, biting at it playfully. Her eyes were closed and her hands were tracing the battle scars on his large chest and narrow waist.
"I am yours completely, my love," Sansa whispered in his good ear, making him shudder at her words. He's waited so long for this, she reasoned. We both have.
She drew back from a reluctant Sandor and swallowed. Her hands never trembled as she started to take her wedding gown off, pulling it down from her shoulders, conscious of how much Sandor always loved to watch her undress. The gown slid down to the floor to lie as a white and grey puddle at her feet. Sansa kept her eyes on Sandor's face the entire time, his eyes widened, almost devouring her, the muscles in his neck working as he gulped and clenched his fists at his sides.
Sansa swiftly stepped out of the gown, gooseprickles covering her arms and legs, the cold night air making her tremble slightly as she stood before Sandor in nothing but a sheer white light linen tunic that covered her to mid-thigh, her auburn hair falling down to the small of her back.
Sandor's deep gaze raked over her body, lingering everywhere; from her breasts and her stiff little nipples, to the womanly curves of her waist and hips, then to her bare long legs. Breathing shallowly, Sansa's heart started pounding with excitement in her chest.
Suddenly, any restraint they had left between them crumbled away and they threw themselves upon each other, losing themselves to the world–to anything and anyone beyond this room. Sandor only had to take one stride to reach her, and as Sansa gasped as something overwhelming ran through her body that left her staggering, he had her in his arms again. He kept her from falling by wrapping his strong arms around her, kissing her hard, groaning into her mouth. Sandor broke their deep embrace so he could kiss her neck with his half-scarred lips, his hand brushing her loose long hair out of the way before he started to lick and suck at her pulse point.
He then nibbled and licked at her shoulder with his teeth and the tip of his tongue, before lowering his head to her chest. Without a warning, Sandor's large hands cupped her breasts, making Sansa moan at the sensation, while Sandor's hot mouth kissed the hollow of her throat before moving over the exposed roundness of her breasts. Sansa's chest started heaving up and down in arousal as he lightly rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, her own hands drawing smooth circles against Sandor's wide chest before moving them down to his firm arse.
Sansa moaned again and breathed excitedly when her big man suddenly fell to his knees before her, groaning in overwhelming lust, his head now of a same height with her chest while she buried her hands in his hair, gathering it around her fingers, her nails scratching the scalp. Sandor tore at her white shift in eagerness, discarding it on the floor with a grunt and revealing her bare breasts and her flushed, naked body to his roving eyes. She did not even try to cover herself up. I have nothing to hide. Not from him.
In a heartbeat, Sandor had buried his face between her breasts, covering them with his warm hands. The gesture made her shudder in pure bliss, despite the night's cold, at the way it felt to be naked in Sandor's arms.
She then gasped in unexpected pleasure when Sandor closed his mouth around one of her breasts, sucking and licking at her hardened nipple, making her arch her back into him so she could press herself closer to him, her hands still scratching the back of his head while he grunted in pleasure. Sandor's tongue was flicking around and over her stiff nipple, then grazing at it gently between his teeth, ripping a strangled moan from her throat. His free hand ran over the remainder of her body, from her free breast to her backside, running over her tummy, her thighs, her hips, her arms, and hovering dangerously near her lady parts and the curly reddish hair down there, finally settling it on her waist, steering her closer against him.
Sansa curled into him in pleasure, running her hands across the length of Sandor's broad back and wide shoulder blades, loving the way they both reacted to the other's touch. Their hands and caresses saying so much, almost making the need for words completely meaningless. Sandor then turned his attention to her other breast, molding it to his large hand and growling in a throaty voice, "You're so fucking beautiful, little bird. So soft."
Her cheeks reddened and her lips parted at the way his voice sounded when he said those words, his breath hot against her naked skin, a whimper escaping her lips. Sansa trembled as an intense, wonderful feeling sparked between her legs and below her tummy overtook her. She felt something wet between her thighs and her knees buckled beneath her, making her slide down against her husband, unable to stand anymore and needing him for support. He caught her in his arms as he moaned her name.
With a shaky groan, Sandor lifted his burned face up to look at her as he returned his mouth to her breast. Their eyes were locked together, Sansa's long soft auburn hair falling to create a curtain around them both as she moaned raggedly and threw her arms around Sandor's neck when he stood up again, dragging her up with him. Sansa kissed him hard, his thick arms going around her, crushing her to him while she tried wrapping her legs around his waist, sliding them both down to the floor.
Feeling bold, she let her hands roam over his body and down towards his hard stomach, caressing him there with light fingertips before she tentatively reached further down until she touched the laces of his breeches. The outline of his manhood drew her gaze, but just thinking about how large it was had her blushing like mad. So instead Sansa raised her head, searching Sandor's eyes, finding his features twisted with plain desire. She stared at him, still half-dressed while she stood naked as her nameday before him.
"Sansa," he growled huskily after a moment, breathing hard and grinding his teeth when she reached both hands to tug at his breeches and started to unlace him.
"Yes?" she cooed softly.
"Fuck," was the only thing he managed to rasp, stepping back from her so he could quickly pull down his breeches.
Sansa was rooted to the spot as she looked down at Sandor's large, stiff manhood while he finally stood before her as naked as she was, not even realizing that her mouth was hanging open in a little O of desire and surprise as she gaped down at him, unable to do anything else. She almost gulped as she tried to imagine how it would feel to have him sheathed deep inside of her.
Sansa moaned softly in slight trepidation as she roamed her eyes over Sandor's perfectly muscled body, over his lean hips and then over his long muscular legs that were covered with fine dark hair. But then her eyes flickered back to his hard manhood again, gazing at the way Sandor's hand closed around it when she noticed the tip of it had a wetness leaking from it.
Oh, gods, was the only coherent thought she had before her big man closed the short distance between them, claiming her mouth again with his hungrily. His right arm stood between them as Sandor was slowly stroking his hardness.
"Sansa," he suddenly growled in pleasure, asking her with a hint of vulnerability in his rough tone, "Please, touch me."
His free hand tightened around her wrist while he brought her hand over his hard length. Sansa softly closed her hand around her husband's manhood, moaning loudly while she rested her forehead over his large chest, marveling at the way his manhood felt under her fingers and palm.
"Yes, like that," her big man rasped low in his throat. "Squeeze it harder."
Sansa started stroking him slowly, squeezing him hard the way he was showing her how to. She was alternating between blushing madly at her audacity and laughing into Sandor's chest lovingly while he was breathing hard in pleasure, his chest heaving up and down. Then her big man made her yelp in surprise as he snarled, "Right."
Sandor lifted her up in his arms with a wicked grin on his face, which had Sansa laughing even more as she clung to him after she feebly asked him to put her down, pressing a kiss on the good side of her husband's face.
Instead of putting her down, Sandor's hold on her tightened to the point where she thought fleetingly that she would probably have bruises covering parts of her body on the morrow. He strode over to the bed in a few steps and carefully deposited her on it, his grey eyes never leaving her face, her arms still around his neck and drawing him closer to her.
In their enthusiasm and eagerness they accidentally bumped their heads together, making them both laugh breathlessly for some moments before Sandor climbed into bed with her, lying down by her side. Sansa was glad for the candle that was lighted beside the bed, which allowed her to see his burned face perfectly.
"I'll have a song from you," he rasped then, his hand smoothing away some locks of hair from Sansa's face, making her frown at him when he propped himself up on his elbows.
What? she thought, puzzled for a moment. What song? But Sansa didn't have time to think on the meaning of these words once Sandor started kissing her again slowly, before turning over so he was now lying on top of her, making them both press heavily into the mattress, drawing a happy smile from her.
Gods, she was tall for her age, but Sandor always made her feel so small and never more so than right now, for he was a grown man of six-foot-eight. She ran her hands across his back in anticipation, shifting her weight upon the mattress since she was slightly uncomfortable. Once he had her pinned down to the bed, their long legs entwined. She felt his manhood rubbing and hardening against her thigh when he started moving above her, making her shudder nervously.
Sandor grabbed her hips and ground himself against her as he loomed over her naked body. He then shoved his large hand underneath her bottom, hoisting her up before he pressed his hard member against her belly, where it leaked sticky fluid over her, making her moan in what she realized was pleasure.
When Sandor took her nipple back in his warm mouth again, Sansa whimpered, and tried to press her breasts against him, drawing a groan from him even as his tongue played with her tiny hard peak. Sandor took hold of her wrists in one large hand, not ungently, bringing her arms high above her head.
Letting go of her nipple, her big man started to caress her skin feverishly with his huge hand while his scarred lips traced lover's caresses over her, his manhood still brushing against her belly; from her arms to her chest, and down to her belly, making her sigh contentedly while she closed her eyes tightly. Allowing Sandor to do whatever he wanted, relishing in the way his touch upon her bare skin made her feel, as if she was on fire, making her happy in the knowledge that as her husband, he would be the only man who could ever touch her this way.
Sandor's mouth moved slowly down her tummy and Sansa shuddered, her blood boiling in her veins as she realized what he was about to do. This can't get any better, she told herself, while she panted in anticipation. Caressing her long legs, her knees, and the inside of her thighs with his hands, her big man spread her legs, settling between them as she whimpered in need. Her hips jumped when she felt his hot breath fan over her entrance, while he stared at her for a long moment as he growled something under his breath, making her blush self-consciously.
Sansa tilted her head back on the bed in arousal, a throaty moan ripped from her lips at the thought of what Sandor was about to do, lust increasing inside of her, making her move her hips in small circles of their own accord.
Her big man needed no more reassurance from her than that. Grinning like a fool, Sandor raised his head for a moment to look at her with a stormy look over his scarred features, before he lowered his face down between her legs, the sight making her tilt her hips upwards to meet him, aching for release.
She gaped in pleasure when Sandor finally put his mouth on her before he started lapping at her lady parts. It seemed to Sansa then that time lost its meaning for her in that room. Sandor kept on teasing and licking at her womanhood, as she ground her hips against her big man's face in complete abandon, for neither of them knew what the hour was, but the night was still young and they had it all to themselves.
Sansa's hands moved from his shoulders to grip the edge of the mattress, fisting the sheets tightly in desperate need.
"Oh, gods," she moaned over and over again, her legs now sprawled over Sandor's large shoulders, the sole of her feet digging into her big man's back. Without any warning, Sansa's body stiffened and she shuddered, feeling a long, long wave of pleasure coursing slowly through her body as she reached her very first peak. She tried to cry out, but no sound came from her throat while she arched her back and pressed Sandor's face against her lady parts deep between her long legs, forgetting everything; and when she did cry out, her body stilled, and Sansa had to bite her hand hastily at the loud sound she let out.
Looking at Sandor with eyes glazed with lust, she threw her arms around him once he had moved back on top of her and claimed her mouth again, kissing her tenderly for a moment. His long dark hair fell limply over his face, shielding his burns from view as he leaned down. He breasts were pressed hard against his chest while Sandor raised one of his hands to cushion the back of her head
After he kissed her deeply for a few long moments, Sandor drew back, looking intently at her, his breath coming in short and ragged.
"Sansa…" he groaned.
"Yes?" she replied in a low exhausted tone, lips parted in desire and love for him, her voice so low she wasn't sure if he had heard her despite their proximity.
Sandor's fingers held her jaw in an iron grasp as he rasped, "Trust me, little bird."
Blinking up at him, crushed under his heavy weight, yet with certainty that she was ready, Sansa gave a tiny nod and whispered softly, truthfully, "I do."
Her husband's scarred mouth nibbled at her lips as her hands clutched at his shoulders when she felt Sandor bring his hand between them so he could start stroking his hard manhood against her again. Sansa's arousal increased tenfold when she felt him steadying the head of his hardness into her swollen lady parts, his powerful body moving between her and parting her legs with his knees. The way Sandor was teasing her only sent her heart thumping even faster in her chest, in fear, nervousness, anticipation and excitement.
Sandor stilled for a heartbeat while his eyes searched hers. When Sansa smiled and nodded at him, Sandor slowly sheathed himself inside her with a grunt, pushing his hips forward. Sansa hissed sharply at the strange feeling of his hard manhood entering her, the world going blank for a painful moment.
"Are you all right, bird?" she registered Sandor asking her a couple of heartbeats later, worried.
She gave him the tiniest of nods, knowing that this had to happen, and the pain was a small price to pay in return for having the man she loved claim her maidenhead. Sansa barely managed to whisper, "Yes, darling."
With a loud moan that rumbled from deep within his chest, Sandor pushed deeper into her tightness while her body trembled, driving her to bite down hard on her big man's shoulder as they clung to each other. The sharp feeling of being stretched lingered as she stiffened underneath her husband's heavy bulk, and when she finally felt her maidenhead yield to him, Sansa was surprised to realize that it wasn't really hurting her as much as she would've expected, for she was only feeling discomfort.
Sandor buried his face on her neck while a strangled sound escaped his lips and he stopped moving inside her. Sansa was trembling all over, from her head to her toes while she felt herself adjust around him, the burning muscles within her womanhood almost crushing Sandor, who groaned deeply once more.
Breathing slowly, letting these entire new overwhelming feelings take over her, Sansa threw her head back down on the pillow. There she met Sandor's gaze. He was looking deeply at her with a burning light in his deep grey eyes.
After blinking away a couple of tears that slid down her cheeks, Sansa returned her big man's stare with wide bright eyes as he brought one hand to her face, brushing the tears away with his thumb.
Sandor reached with his other hand down between them to gently stroke her lady parts which brought her more pleasure as she moaned and writhed beneath him, realizing that her tears were of joy. Joy at this, at what they were doing, burying deep within the other, molding their bodies to become one to match the state of their hearts.
When Sandor pulled out of her slowly, he reminded her how much he cared for her with his next words.
"I love you, Sansa," Sandor managed to say in a dark rumbling growl as he pushed back into her carefully. Sansa never wanted this moment to end, for she felt whole, even if for a brief moment she could not breathe, but then Sansa heard herself reply, "And I you."
Accepting this intrusion to her body at last, Sansa started to roll her hips slowly against him to meet each of her husband's thrusts as they looked at the other with wonder and love etched plainly both their features. There was nothing between them now but this sweet intimacy, nothing to hold them back, everything to give.
At first, Sandor restrained himself as he moved slowly inside of her, not wanting to hurt her. Her husband pulled her close and held her in his arms, kissing her forehead or gasping words of love in her ears in the gathering dark of this endless night until the discomfort turned into a sweet ache.
But then, with his burned cheek resting against hers, and his lips upon the edge of her mouth, Sandor increased the speed of his hips inside her with every single beat of their hearts, the sounds of their slapping skins rising loudly in the room while her moans hitched higher in pleasure.
Sansa had never expected this to feel so good, and it wasn't very long before her husband's jaw clenched hard and he growled deep in his throat as he lost what was left of his restraint, a savage look appearing on his features. Her big man's thrusts became desperate, making her moan so loudly he had to kiss her to keep her quiet. Sandor was unable to slow down by then, his hips moving jerkily inside her even as her own pleasure built up within her.
"Sansa!" he rasped loudly, hoarsely, just before he came between her thighs, spilling himself inside of her while Sansa reached her release too, her body racking with waves of pleasure, gasping for breath as Sandor collapsed on top of her, shaking and panting, burying his head on the crook of her neck; she clung to him, new tears stinging her eyes at the overwhelming sensations that she was feeling in these moments.
Minutes became moments, yet neither of them moved. Sansa's breathing slowly returned to normal as she felt the muscles deep within her twitch while she and Sandor where still joined as one. Her big man had buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily into her hair as they refused to let go of the tight hold they had on the other. Sansa had never felt more loved in her life.
I can't believe we waited so long for this, she thought dimly, her hands stroking her husband's damp back absentmindedly as their bodies relaxed at last. Memories of what they had just done flashed across her mind, making her cheeks glow red in pleasure. It felt so strange and yet empowering to know that a man like Sandor could react like this because of her.
With a deep grunt, Sandor shifted most of his weight off of her, letting his head rest upon her breasts, their legs tangled together underneath the sheets, warming each other with the heat of their bodies.
Dimly, Sansa became aware of the wet stickiness between her thighs. Her eyes fell on the water basin in a corner of the room where water and a cloth that awaited her, but she felt so good and so content she didn't want to move, didn't want to step away from her love after this for even a moment.
Her big man breathed deeply as he hugged her possessively, making her smile into his hair, making her understand then how fragile was the human heart, for she would give up her life for Sandor's without any hesitations at any moment, treasuring him beyond everything and everyone.
"I love you," she whispered.
Sandor was breathing loudly in rhythm with the strong beating of Sansa's heart beneath him, his face buried between her breasts as time went by, utterly spent. He wondered how he had ever managed to live without this, as he heard Sansa moan, or sigh. He wasn't sure which one. Not until she had come into his life had Sandor been struck with the realization of just how love-starved he'd been all his life, but the little bird had certainly made him remember.
The night air was stinging on his back where Sansa had dug her nails into his skin, but he welcomed the feeling. Anything that proves to me that we just fucked, that this is real and I am not dreaming, is good enough for me. Sandor just needed to lie down like this for some moments, to feel the way his wife was running her soft hands on his back as she murmured some nonsense to him which only served to make him love her more, and wish that they could stay like this forever.
Bloody hells, to think of all the time that they'd lost without this sweet, mind-blowing pleasure in their lives. At the back of his head, Sandor knew that it had been best this way for Sansa, and even if though the months and months of longing had been soddingly unbearable for him, tonight had been beyond anything he'd ever felt before.
What a lucky bastard I am, he thought then and not for the first time, as pleased with himself as any man could be when he's just fucked the most beautiful woman in the world, a woman who loved him back in return. And the little bird was truly his now. His woman, his wife, his life. There had been no need to ask her if she had enjoyed it, or if she now somehow hated him, for her love for him had been plain and clear on her face as she gazed up at him with eyes opened in wonder, holding him back just as tightly as he was her, making him drown in her Tully waters as his heart ceased its steady beating.
As he rested on his stomach next to Sansa, their limbs still jumbled together, Sandor could do no more but breathe the smell of her in, playing over in his mind everything that had happened between them. From the way he had made the little bird ready for him when he took her so that she'd enjoyed it just as much as he had, to the way in which her sweet heaving teats had felt underneath his hands and mouth, and to the way she had moaned and whimpered when he had teased her with the head of his cock, making it hard as steel, and his balls clench painfully in pure desire for her.
At first, Sandor had been afraid he would hurt her, yet Sansa had ended up fucking him back eagerly after a short time, making him fuck her harder than he'd intended and peak so bloody hard and deep inside her sooner than he would have wanted.
When his breathing had finally returned to its regular steady rhythm, Sandor shifted around on the bed, feeling a pang as he left the sweet comfort of Sansa's chest. He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling before he drew the little bird to him, pulling her closer, and scooping her up in his arms.
Sansa snuggled up against him, resting her pretty head on his shoulder and looking up at him with a sleepy smile. Her chest had been rising sharply since they'd finished, but now she simply fell with a gentle sigh. Sandor nosed her hair out of the way and found her mouth, kissing her full red lips long and deep, and his hand gently tracing the outline of her jaw as she tilted her neck back so she could reach him better.
When they opened their eyes, their mouths still pressed together, they took a long moment to stare at each other. Sandor placed his free hand on her hipbone, relishing in the feeling of lying naked in bed with Sansa as she threw one long leg over his own idly, taking hold of his hand, their fingers brushing together as they interlaced.
"I fucking love you, little bird," Sandor rasped yet again in answer to her previous whispers of love, for he meant it and would never tire of letting her know.
His little wife smiled up at him again and kissed his neck. "I know, darling. Me too."
Smirking, Sandor kissed the top of her head and smoothed her auburn hair out of her face, before he snorted and commented airily, "You sang a loud pretty song for me, little bird."
It took Sansa a moment to finally understand what he really meant. She raised her head from his chest to look at him with a little puzzled frown, saying, "Song? What… oh!"
Sandor broke out into barks of laughter, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his wife's ear before she buried her face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment.
"You meant that song all along, didn't you?" she asked him, her voice muffled. "From before we even escaped Maegor's!"
Ruffling her already messed up trestles, Sandor went on laughing, highly amused at her reaction, thinking in wonder how innocent the little bird was at times. But then Sansa bit his shoulder blade, making him hiss as she punched him lightly on the spot where only moments ago her teeth had grazed his skin.
"Gods, you're incorrigible!" she exclaimed, her face threatening to break into a wide smile for a moment before she also started laughing with him, kissing his burned cheek. "You're making me blush. Stop it."
He rolled his eyes at her affectionately, wondering how could she blush after what they had just done. Bloody lady that she is, no wonder. But Sandor loved her for this, for it meant that despite what she had suffered through life, Sansa was still in a way the sweet innocent little bird that had caught his eye long ago.
Sandor grinned at her brightly before his eyes fell to the little bird's legs then and on the blankets underneath them, noticing for the first time the blood staining the sheets and their legs, along with his seed. Seaworth will have to see it if we want to keep him on our side for as long as we are able to.
Sandor's hand started caressing his wife's hip before he suddenly stilled when he felt a scar underneath his finger, which he had not known was there before, for when he'd kissed the little bird's body before, he'd been too bloody eager and the room too dark to take a proper good stare at this.
Yet he knew at once what it was.
Seven bloody hells, bugger them all to burn forever! he thought in fury, feeling hate and loathing coil in his belly at once, cursing his own guts for having done nothing back then. Sandor didn't need to ask the bird where she had gotten this scar, for the memory of seeing those fucking shits, Meryn and Boros, strike the little bird with the edge of their blades under Joffrey's command was something he would never be able to forget, or forgive himself for. And now I've caused her pain as well.
"What is the matter?" she chirped, looking beautiful and perfect beside him, noticing his scowl, oblivious to the dark struggles that were running through his mind.
Sandor had to look away from her. He practically threw the words at her when he growled, "Did I hurt you too much?"
I clasped her so tightly there are sure to be bruises on her, I bet. Just as there are scratches on me. Sandor would not have minded this way of branding each other, but after recalling the way Sansa had suffered, he couldn't stop his belly from clenching tightly in disgust. You did nothing for her, and what little you did do was not enough. It took you long enough to take her away from King's Landing.
"It did hurt," the little bird finally admitted. Sandor looked at her at that, only to find her gazing at him with curiosity and love. She kissed the corner of his mouth as she continued. "But not very much. It is a pain I would gladly suffer again because of what it meant, my dearest. My big man."
Something in the way she said that, in the way she looked at him and brushed his scarred lips with the tip of her tongue made him relent. I shouldn't fuck up this night. Sansa deserves so much better than a brooding sullen husband.
Sandor brought his hand to the back of Sansa's head and kissed her, which in turn had her sighing softly against his mouth. It made his cock harden again. As they kissed, he felt his little bird tremble beside him.
"You're shivering," he rasped, not wishing her to catch a cold. "Let's get under the covers. Where's your sleeping shift?"
Laughing, the little bird asked him, "Don't you remember? I can't wear my tunic. You ripped it off earlier."
That had him snorting and remembering how fucking happy he really was tonight. If only we could stay like this forever and forget the whole damned world.
"Bugger me, you're right, Sansa. Sorry about that," he grumbled, drawing the sheets to cover them.
His little bird chuckled. "You are not one bit sorry about it, Sandor Clegane."
Sandor couldn't help himself then. He threw his head back and laughed raucously, rasping in honest answer, "You're right, bird. I'm not. Not one bloody bit."
"Oh, my big man," Sansa sighed, running her hand across his chest, drawing her fingers through the hair there.
Afterwards, for the first time since their arrival in Braavos, Sandor allowed himself to get some proper rest for a couple of hours. They had to be at the shack where the others were an hour before dawn, and midnight was still hours away if Sandor was right. He and the little bird still had plenty of time to make the most of their wedding night before the hour of the wolf went by.
A/N: I thank you not only for reading this, my lovely readers, but for your patience until this chapter came along! I just hope you all liked it! Please let me know Wishing you all the best Easter holidays!