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It all happened so fast.
His mouth was on hers while powerful hands tore away the fabric of her dress. Or was it her bedclothes that were torn away? Sansa could hardly remember one second from the next as she was filled with a heat she had yet to experience in truth.
The Hound tasted of spiced wine and his lips were softer than the girl ever would have thought, though what they lacked in roughness, his calloused hands made up for as they groped possessively at the skin of her shoulders, her back, her breasts. Sansa couldn't help but moan at the sensations running wild across her nerves and the Hound had not wasted the chance to put his tongue in her mouth, drowning her in the taste of him.
"M'lord—" she gasped, but was quickly silenced by the man atop her.
"How many times must I tell you to save your 'lords', little bird?"
His voice was like glass being ground into gravel, rough and sharp. Deadly. As much as the girl wanted to reply, to prove she wasn't only a little songbird repeating taught courtesies, the yearning between her legs was clouding her thoughts, blocking her wit. Instead, she only managed to take a breath as uneven and shakey as her resolution, her eyelids felt heavy over her deep blue eyes as she only half looked up at this beast. Her eyes longed to close, her body desperate to be lost to touch alone, but she needed to look at him.
All of him.
The thought came unbidden but tightened the coil beneath her stomach all the same. The Hound was breathing just as heavily as she was as he held himself above her on strong and sturdy arms. She made herself look at him — really look — and Sansa brought her hands up to his face, cupping the clear side of his face first in one hand before, very carefully moving the other to the scarred side. The tips of her fingers were little more than a hair's width away from touching the gnarled flesh when the Hound stopped her with a hand grasping firmly at her wrist.
"The little bird plays a dangerous game," he almost whispered, a different kind of roughness in his voice now.
"Perhaps I'm not so little a bird as you think," Sansa whispered back, though her heart raced against her ribs as both of her hands dropped back to the sheets beneath her.
She knew he could hear it pounding even before his mouth twisted into the smug sneer he always gave her before he lashed out with his cruel truths in the name of both teaching her the way of things as well as mocking her sheltered upbringing. What made this instance worse was how he buried his face in her chest, placing firm kisses against her sternum before his lips came up the side of one breast as he nipped at the edges of her nipple with his teeth. The sensation ran through her fast as lightning and she gasped while the Hound's hot breath tickled her skin as he chuckled at her.
"Little enough," he said against the skin of her chest, punctuating his words by biting at her other nipple.
Sansa hadn't realized that she had brought her knees up, until she felt herself pressing her thighs against the man who lay between them. She could feel his arousal against the tatters of her clothes, and it made her blush to think that she had been able to pull such a warm reaction from such a cold man. A man who enjoyed nothing better than murder was here in her chambers, hard between her legs as he touched her. As aggressive as his actions had been to this point, Sansa had not missed the control he was exerting. The Hound was eager for her, that much was obvious, but the girl knew he would not go further without say-so. As much as the royal family had come to dislike her, it would be the Hound's head on the next spike should it be discovered he had stolen her maidenhood by force.
"Little," Sansa breathed, shifting her hips just slightly, "but not easily broken."
The scarred side of the Hound's lips twitched up in another small smirk. "A challenge?"
"A promise."
He was gone from her then, standing at the edge of her bed, and Sansa feared she had said the wrong thing. The girl pushed herself up onto her elbows before the man barked at her.
"Lay down," he snapped and she did as instructed instantly. "Put your hands above your head and keep them there."
Again, Sansa obeyed, feeling suddenly vulnerable as she kept her eyes on the ceiling. She listened in the quiet as fabric fell against the floor, and kept her gaze upwards as the mattress shifted and she felt the rest of her bedclothes pulled away from her. It left her milky white skin entirely exposed and as the Hound's face came into her line of sight, she could see the hungry light in his eyes as he looked her body over in the dim light. Sansa made herself look at him again, not just at his face, but lower still. Her gaze fell upon the strong and battle-scarred body as best she could, down to his stomach as it pressed against her own, hiding the rest of him between her legs.
The weight of the man was scary and comforting in equal parts, growing heavier as he shifted himself. A hand snaked behind one of her stretched arms to take a handful of her hair, the other trailing up her side almost tenderly until it slipped beneath the weight of her shoulder. As his grip tightened, Sansa fought the hold the Hound had on her hair, silently begging to arch beneath his touch as his cock rubbed against her crotch.
The Hound's face dipped and his teeth suddenly gripped hard on her breast. The gasp that it wrenched from her lips seemed only to spur the man on harder as the other hand clutched against the bare skin of her back. His teeth scraped against her nipple as he sucked on it, hard, and Sansa gasped again, arching in full this time against him. The need between her legs threatened to drive her mad and she wrapped one leg around his hips as the Hound shifted his attention to her other nipple, biting on it just as hard. Sansa longed to wrap her arms around him, to beg him to enter her with whatever words he could want to hear, but she feared the consequences of lowering her hands and the fog of desperation in her mind hid all of the words she knew.
The hand in her hair relaxed while the other moved too slowly down her back, nails digging painfully into her skin and making her arch more severely against the Hound. That seemed to be his aim, though, as he let out a growl against her chest. His hand came out from under her then and slid between them, his knuckles brushing against her soaking slit and making her moan.
"That's the only song I care to hear," he murmured, at last taking himself away from her bruising breasts to kiss and bite at her neck. "Keep singing for me, little bird."
The Hound's knuckles pressed against her again, and Sansa couldn't help the noises that escaped her. And then she felt something different, something strange, pressing between her legs. It made her gasp and he tried to shift in order to look down between them, but the Hound tugged on her hair again to hold her in place.
"Last chance," the Hound said into the crook of her throat.
Sansa still had no words. She was hot and overwhelmed and... she needed him. She needed this man closer than he already was. This man who terrified her and yet was the only one who continued to keep her safe in this gods forsaken city. She was panting with her breathlessness, her chest rising and falling heavily with every shallow breath. He was waiting for her answer, sucking at the spot where her neck met her shoulder in a way that was sure to make a mark that would be troublesome to cover. He would not wait forever, Sansa knew, but she couldn't say what she so desperately wanted to... so she turned her head and looked at him.
Her eyes met his, met the Hounds, met Sandor's.
It was unclear how long they gazed at each other like that, in the dark of Maegor's Holdfast, but all moments end. When this one did, it lead to another where Sandor kissed her on the mouth, hungry and violent and possessive. In that same moment, Sansa felt a pain she had never felt before mixed with a sensation of being impossibly filled. Her legs wrapped tightly around Sandor's hips and her eyes watered as he pulled her hair and devoured all of the noises she made. His kisses made her head swim but they also made the pain more bearable, more pleasurable, as her cunt held tight around the cock who would be the first to taste her. A calloused hand ran along one of Sansa's legs, soothing the tension of her muscles with every stroke.
When at last she felt comfortable again, Sansa couldn't help herself any longer and brought her arms down to wrap around Sandor's back.
He growled against her swelling lips, "I told you to leave your hands above your head."
"Give me a reason not to move them a second time."
Sansa wasn't sure where her courage came from, but she again thought her words had been wrong when it felt like Sandor was pulling away from her once more. She was ready to apologize, to try and convince him to stay, when Sandor slammed back into her hard enough that she saw stars. It made Sansa yelp and her nails dug into Sandor's shoulders and made him growl. When he did thrust into her again, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling the scars against her nose. The man held her just as close as he fucked her. He was unforgiving for those first thrusts, making Sansa dig her nails deeper into his back as she whimpered into his burned throat. But then something changed. A rhythm was formed and Sansa's whimpers began to turn into mewling.
"My favourite song," Sandor said, rocking into her at an angle that had Sansa throwing her head back against the pillows. "But do you know the whole of it?"
He thrust into her hard again, and Sansa dragged her nails across Sandor's muscular shoulders as a cry of pleasure forced its way out of her. Above her, Sandor growled low in his throat before his mouth found the girl's. The kiss was sloppy and wet, their teeth knocking together constantly as desire outweighed thought. Sansa felt like she was on fire, sweat causing the sheets the feel damp under her while he body was sticky with it. Her mewling had long since turned to moans she didn't bother trying to stifle, each one pulling growls and grunts from Sandor.
"M-m'lord, I— Ah!" the girl cried and she clung to Sandor as her vision suddenly went white and her body began to tremble violently.
"Fuck," Sandor grunted, and held her even tighter, biting his lip as his young lover orgasmed.
Sansa's body had clenched around him so tightly that the man briefly worried he wouldn't be able to hold himself back. Luckily, the girl relaxed around his cock in time for him to be able to pull out of her. He emptied himself across the fading bruises of her stomach while she panted, her face flushed. He looked down at her, breathing heavily himself, and found he wanted to see the colour of the little bird's cheeks in the daylight. He bet to himself that it would be a beautiful colour to behold, especially if it reached down to those sweet breasts of hers that smelled of wildflowers and tasted sweeter than fine wine.
Her eyes opened, but Sandor didn't think she was truly seeing him in the darkness. Her hands moved slowly from his aching shoulders to his chest and then up his neck, her velvet soft thumbs running along the line of his jaw. Sandor allowed her to pull him back down to her and their lips met sweetly in a slow kiss that Sanda led. The seed on her belly squished between them but neither seemed to mind, or even really notice, while they kissed and let hands roam once more.
Tired of holding himself up, Sandor wrapped an arm beneath Sansa's waist and rolled them so he could relax underneath her. The tiny yelp the girl made caused him to breathe a laugh as he ran his hand up and down her smooth back. With the way she held herself above him, her tender breasts were in his face once again and he couldn't help but take one of them back into his mouth.
Sansa let out a small noise somewhere between annoyance and pleasure while her back curved. Sandor chuckled again as he let her go before he sighed and sat up... or at least he tried to sit up.
"Are you leaving now?" Sansa asked and she cringed at how desperate she sounded.
"Even dogs need to sleep sometime, little bird." He did sit up then, but Sansa only shifted enough to still be in his lap, straddling his legs as she looked down. "What?"
She shook her head and tried to move away, "Nothing..."
Sandor stopped her with a firm hand on her upper arm. "I won't have lies."
"I..." she started to reply as she ran her fingertips through the sticky mess of her stomach. For some reason, she instead said, "You finished on my stomach."
"It wouldn't do for either of us if you were to be whelping pups, girl."
Sansa nodded and Sandor found his patience running out. He pushed the girl's hair back with one hand while he used the other to guide her cum-dipped fingers to her lips. Obediently, Sansa put her fingers in her mouth, accepting the taste of Sandor while he tenderly kissed her collarbone. When she lowered her fingers, he pulled away and her eyes met his with a watery look.
"Sing for me, little bird. Use your words."
"Stay," she whispered. "Please."
Before he could say anything, Sansa kissed him again, and Sandor saw no other choice than to return it and fall back against the pillows. The girl fell with him and they kissed and touched and held each other until she fell asleep against his chest...
###
A dull throbbing in his head and the unwelcome morning sun woke Sandor well before he would have liked. As he blinked his eyes to adjust to the light, the Hound realized two things: first, that he had no idea where he was, and second, there was a weight pinning down an arm that felt numb. He turned his head and was greeted by a wild mess of auburn hair that he carefully pushed out of the way to reveal... Sansa Stark.
Shit.
He had almost hoped that it had all been a dream, and then the girl moved in her sleep, snuggling closer against his side while her hand rested low on his stomach and...
"Seven hells," he muttered to himself and he carefully removed himself from Sansa's bed.
When it was clear that the girl wasn't about to wake, the Hound took care of his morning wood in the chamber pot and got dressed. He headed for the door, but just as he was about to open it, he heard the girl shift and he turned back around.
Sansa's chest was visible now, bruised from their night of passion, and her skin still appeared dewy with sweat. Her slightly parted lips were dark pink and swollen, and the Hound wasn't in control of himself as he knelt at her bedside and watched her sleep. He could see the dried blood under her fingernails — which explained the ache in his shoulders — and it made him smile to think of how she would most certainly try to apologize to him for it. He wondered how flustered she would get, and if he would get to see the shade of pink her cheeks turned when she blushed in truth.
But he needed to leave, and quickly at that.
He had fucked his king's betrothed. He had stolen the girl's maidenhood from her would-be husband and remained in her bed overnight to hold her while she slept, coated in his seed. There would be no shrugging that off, no moving on, if they were found out. There would be only death for the both of them in that case.
And yet, as he placed a careful kiss to Sansa's forehead and covered her breasts with the sheets, the Hound couldn't help but hope the little bird would call on him to repeat their little game. Drunk as he had been, Sandor would remember the song of her moans until his grave.
"Sleep well, little bird," he whispered.
And then he was gone.