Work Text:
It's the fifth day on the road when Sansa notices it. The first few days are a blur -- the group of brothers pushed their steeds hard so as to get as far away from the Eyrie as they could. They camped after the sun set, and the watch, armed with swords and axes, rotated each night. By the fifth day, however, the pace slows and Sansa finds she doesn't spend all her time looking nervously back over her shoulder. Instead, her attention falls upon her horse. Sansa is surprised she never noticed it before.
The movement of the horse, a rhythmic back-and-forth motion, feels very... pleasant. She blushes a little, but is relieved when she sees that no one seems to notice what's happening.
It's the eighth day on the road when it get worse. That day she rides with Brother Sandor on his black horse. He says nothing to her during the entire day, even though she knows he knows who she is. He does put his arms around her, though, lightly, just so that he can hold the reins, but Sansa's mind goes back to the night when he lay in her bed and stole a kiss, and nearly something more, from her, and her heart starts pounding in her chest. And she finds when she leans just a little forward... the horse's motion feels even better. She spends most of the afternoon with her eyes half-lidded, the motion combined with his closeness constantly stimulating her. She imagines it's his hips that are grinding into her, slow and regular, constantly keeping her near a climax, but never close enough.
When the sun sets and she finally dismounts, she's half-mad with need. She asks Sandor to help set up her tent, and once it's done she motions him inside. Sansa wastes no time -- she slowly unlaces her bodice, watching his expression intently. She hopes he still wants her as he did before.
Sansa lets her dress slide to the floor, her breasts only partly covered by her hair. She steps closer to the brother and for the first time since she saw him at the Gates of the Moon, he breaks his silence, saying, "We shouldn't." But when Sansa glances up at his eyes, she sees a hunger there that matches her own.
She rests her hand lightly on his chest, and then slides it down slowly to his stomach and then to his breeches. He's already hard underneath and Sansa wonders briefly if the ride was as good to him as it was to her. The thought of him sitting behind her getting hard arouses her even more. She continues to stroke him through his pants and smiles when his breathing becomes uneven. She undoes his laces then, drawing his cock from his pants and giving it a few strokes with her hand.
After a while, he gently removes her hand and pushes her down on the bed roll, kissing her with his rough lips -- what's left of them anyway. There's no more fear when she looks at the twisted side of his face -- she's imagined it in her head so many times it's as familiar as her own reflection. Sansa moves her legs so that they're straddling his and hugs him close. She can feel his manhood pressing against her, and then he pulls back to spread her legs apart even further and to place the tip of his manhood at her entrance. It feels so good.
"Please..." Sansa says. She lifts her legs up and Sandor pushes slowly into her moist opening, a little at a time until he's fully in her. Sansa gasps at the feeling of being so filled. He pulls back then and pushes in, quickly picking up speed.
She's so aroused from the ride that it's not long before she feels her climax coming. Her back arches and she lets out an "Ohhh," as waves of pleasure wash over her and her muscles clench. His rapid pumping as she recovers feels amazing, and then it's his turn to climax. With a shudder, Sandor shoots his seed deep inside her.
Sansa lays back, catching her breath. It had only lasted a few minutes, but oh they were a good few minutes.
