Chapter Text
Early morning rays of light peak through the windows lining the top of Sandor's basement bedroom, the birds already a busy flutter and chirp outside the comfort the converted barn gives them. A typically early riser, Sandor has been awake for nearly an hour already, his fingers running through the red satin silk of Sansa's hair.
It's supposed to be winter here in Erie, an area famous for it's lake effect snow storms and continuously topping the lists for most snowfall in a season. Not this year, not with El Nino in full effect, it felt like being back in Texas.
The last week and a half has been balmy, warm almost most days, what Sansa refers to as “sweater weather”, even if Sandor had never owned a sweater until a few days before Thanksgiving. His girlfriend unceremoniously dumped a red and white Macy's bag on his lap late one afternoon, telling him this is what he was to wear to dinner with her family, no exceptions, before throwing him a suggestive wink while sauntering towards the bedroom.
He wore the damned thing without complaint after she wrapped those pretty pink lips around his cock and stared up at him with doe eyes so blue it made him weak in the knees.
Beside him Sansa makes a soft sigh while wrapping herself tighter in the gray and black comforter on his bed, her eyes fluttering enough to make Sandor think his girlfriend might be waking up. Instead she burrows down deeper in the bed, a soft snore escaping from her lips.
A year ago he was complaining about this damn party Bronn and Marge wanted to throw, spent the day brooding in his bedroom until he heard the deep bass of the DJ pounding through the house, even in his sound proof room everything was vibrating. At that point he had given up, trudging upstairs to get himself a lowball glass of whiskey and maybe shoot the shit with some of the guys that he and Bronn employed.
Never in a million years would he guess that he would have met the love of his life at some stupid fucking house party his roommate/business partner had insisted on throwing for New Years Eve. Yet the moment he laid his eyes on Sansa Stark, he was a fucking goner.
Today was their anniversary of sorts, one year since locking eyes on the dance floor that was his living room. All those heated looks and lingering touches building up and over to a boiling point, until they ended up naked in this very bed together. Of course their “official” dating anniversary was a few weeks away, once Sandor was finally able to pluck up the courage to ask Sansa to be his actual girlfriend and not just the girl he was sleeping with.
Bronn had told him he was a moron for even thinking that Sansa wasn't totally head over heels for him, but he still had his reservations on the matter. He had wanted to tell her the full story about his scars and about his godforsaken bastard of a brother, Gregor, before tying her to him in such a substantial way.
Just as in everything else, Sansa took his story with such a measure of grace and concern for him, it had truly blown him away. That had been the moment that sealed the deal, he asked her to be his girlfriend while deciding that someday he'd ask her to be his wife.
By Thanksgiving Sandor had already purchased the ring, hiding it in an inner pocket of his coat on the drive to Pittsburgh. He had met Eddard and Catelyn Stark on a couple of previous occasions, Easter and the 4th of July weekend were celebrated family style for the Starks. Sansa had even surprised him with tickets to see his beloved Texas Rangers play her Pittsburgh Pirates during the summer, her father giving her use of the Stark Steel company box at PNC Park, Ned and Catelyn bringing the two youngest boys along to watch the Bucs win in walk-off fashion. He and Ned had a mutual respect for each other, both of them being involved in the construction industry, and Catelyn had been surprisingly welcoming to him as well.
Walking into the Stark house the night before Thanksgiving, Ned had ushered Sandor to his study for a cigar and some bourbon while the women caught up in the kitchen over a glass of wine. His hands were shaking and drank the bourbon like a regular shot, before pulling the velvet case out of his pocket and opening it up to show the man he was hoping would be his father in law.
“Now we both know that Sansa is a grown woman, and she'll make whatever choices she wants to, but it wouldn't feel right for me to put this ring on her finger without asking for your blessing. It's not your permission that I seek Ned, because I'm in love with your daughter and all I want is to get to spend the rest of my life with her, and she's the only person whose permission counts in that case.” He remembers saying, the older man staring at him intensely, face void of emotion.
“Well, I guess I have a phone call to make.” Ned had said, putting his own glass down onto his desk.
“What?”
“Arya bet me $50 that you would be asking for my blessing this weekend to propose. I said you'd at least wait until Christmas.”
Right now the velvet box was buried deep in his closet, somewhere in a pocket of a coat he wouldn't be needing anytime soon, unless the weather took a sudden turn for the worse. Sandor knew that Sansa would hardly have the chance to accidentally find the ring with it in some heavy winter coat he never wore, not that she made a habit of peaking around in his closet anyway.
Most nights she spent at her own little apartment, she still had time on her lease agreement and it was closer to her school. Though a good chunk of her weekends were spent tucked away in his room, drinking tea while working on her homework for the Masters Degree, eating a variety of takeout meals, or fucking on every available space in his personal suite. She had practically lived here all summer, being a teacher meant summer vacation for her, while it was the busy season for him. Every spare minute he was able to get off the job site he spent nestled between Sansa's creamy white thighs, never being able to get close enough for his own liking.
She's a yawn and a stretch beside him now, the over sized t-shirt of his she wears as a nightgown slipping indecently down her shoulder and chest, exposing white flesh inch by glorious inch. He's spent many hours mapping out her entire body with his hands, his teeth, his mouth and his eyes. He knows every nook and cranny of Sansa Stark, where and how she likes to be touched, how to make her come quick, how to hold off her release in such an agonizing way (to both of them) that she's actually screamed loud enough at the end that the sound proofing in the basement hasn't been much help.
Lifting the blankets away from her, Sandor sees that the t-shirt has ridden up as well, the black lace of her panties a striking contrast to the pale peach of her skin. He wants to touch her, wants to taste her, to wake her fully up in the best way he knows how. Easing his way down the bed, moving slow enough as to not completely wake Sansa up yet, he pulls the blankets off of her at the same time. It's not too chilly in this room of his, though he notices her slight shiver and her skin breaking out into goose flesh where her skin is exposed to air around them.
Sansa shifts slightly, laying fully on her back where she continues to make soft, muffled snores into her pillow. Sliding his fingers up the silky smooth expanse of her thighs, Sandor runs his thumb over the black lace in a feather light motion, causing his girlfriend to sleepily part her thighs to give him better access. Sandor bites back a groan of pleasure as he rubs her cunt through the flimsy material, and thanks his lucky stars that this beautiful woman is his.
Sansa is already warm and wet for him, and it's more than enough to make him want to take her right there. He holds back though, seeing her eyes flutter and her hearing her breath gasp. He presses a lingering kiss right over her center, so warm and welcoming even with the garment in his way. He hears Sansa murmur something, but he's so caught up in the intoxicating scent of her that he can't even pay attention to anything else until he feels her nails scratching in his scalp.
Letting out a low chuckle against her, Sandor wraps his fingers around the band of the scrap of material she calls panties, giving them a tug as Sansa lifts her ass off his bed, spreading her knees to make room for the bulk of him. Throwing her knees over his shoulders so he can feel the press of her heels into his back, he runs a finger through the glistening pink flesh of her cunt, tilting his head up to catch her eyes, half asleep as they are. With a wicked grin, he reaches his tongue out to get a taste of her, holding eye contact until Sansa's baby blues roll back into her head.
“Mmhmm baby.” Sansa moans low in the back of her throat, grasping hard into his hair.
“You like this little bird?” Sandor asks, dipping his mouth back into her folds as she squeaks out a gasp of delight.
She only nods in encouragement, twisting her nimble fingers threw the knot on the top of his head as he continues his assault with his mouth, and digs her heels into his muscled back. Sandor drags his slowly up her middle, latching his lips around her nub and giving it a hard suck, causing Sansa to buck into his mouth and cry out a moan that sounds so sweet.
“More. So close.” She whimpers from above him, dragging her nails across the nape of his neck, breathless from his ministrations.
He's done this so many times, more than anyone could keep count, and he's learned what she likes and what she needs to come for him. Unwrapping his fingers from where they are holding her hips down, he slides one finger through the wet of her before slowly inserting it inside her. It's hotter and wetter, a delicious tightness that he'll never grow tired of, and while it feels like heaven around his cock, it's just as good around his finger.
Her moan is low, almost a growl when he pulls his digit out and quickly replaces it with two fingers, increasing his tempo as he laps at her clit. Giving her something to hold on to, her hips are moving at a frantic pace, chasing the orgasm he so desperately wants to give to her. With a light bite to her nub, all the sudden Sansa stills and cries out, and Sandor removes his fingers to lick at the juices she gives him freely.
Her thighs tremble around him as he continues to edge her towards a second orgasm, this time with light licks and flicks of his tongue to her nub. Quicker than the last one, the second time she comes is soft and sweeps over her like waves on the beach, and with a pull of his hair he is up and out of the cradle of her thighs, kissing her full on the mouth and delighting in the way her fingers are skirting around the band of the sweatpants he's wearing.
“This was a nice wake up call baby.” Sansa whispers into his ear, wrapping her delicate fingers around the length of him from the outside of his pants.
“Well there's more where that came from little bird.” Sandor pants, helping Sansa drag down his pants with the heel of her foot.
“Well why don't you show me.” She half taunts, a come hither look in her eyes that would make any man weak with need.
“Oh, don't you worry you're pretty little head about that. I wasn't planning on letting you out of this bed until we're both completely satisfied.”