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Serpentine - Ch. 6
leighofoldstone

Sansa knew that if she and the Hound were seen speaking to each other for more than a word or two, it would cause problems. She had to find a reason for him to be with her, alone, as part of his duty to Joffrey. His Grace often sent the Hound when he wanted her summoned. If she could think of some way to make the king order the Hound to watch her, surely there would come a time when they would be alone together…



Perhaps in the godswood. She would be able to… to kiss him and touch him and feel his hands on her waist and her breasts and feel his hips thrusting against hers… She felt the blush rising in her face as she remembered their night on the serpentine, and how she had taken her pleasure thinking about him once she was safely back in her rooms.


The longer she thought on it, the more she realized that, somehow, she had to get back to the godswood with the Hound. It was the only place they could be alone. The godswood was a forgotten relic of the Red Keep. No one ever went there but her, and that was because she was from the north, where the old gods were still worshipped. In Winterfell, she had favored the Seven, her mother’s gods. But since her family had been torn apart after she came to King’s Landing, she found herself drawn to both the new gods and the old equally. She found peace in the godswood, and had never seen anyone besides herself there except for the day she answered the note Ser Dontos had left under her pillow. She had not seen him there since. When she saw him at court, he avoided looking at her and never attempted to speak to her again. She was glad of it. The godswood was the one place she had to herself in all of Westeros.

It was no secret to anyone in the castle that Sansa visited the godswood daily. Most people paid her no mind, but surely some of the inhabitants of the Red Keep might have wondered if she was really going there to pray, or if she was in truth meeting a lover… If Joffrey ever heard such whisperings, he would make her bleed. But if she could find a way to plant rumors in court so that Joffrey could not ignore them… And if the Hound was with him when he heard the gossip… Perhaps the Hound could suggest that Joff set him to guarding her on her trips to the godswood, to ensure her loyalty and enforce her fear of him. Could she convince the Hound to lie for her? It was a risk, but she’d endured so many beatings, she thought she would bravely face one more if it meant she could spend time alone with the Hound.

That evening, Sansa went to the godswood to pray for guidance. As she stood in front of the heart tree, a sudden vivid image of the Hound stepping out from the shadows to take her in a hard embrace, his mouth hungrily seeking out hers, came to her unbidden, and she suddenly wanted him so powerfully that she sank to her knees. Gods, please, let me talk to him soon, let me be near him soon, she prayed. Let him kiss me and touch me and want me. Please. Let him want me as much as I want him. Help us… Help us to be together without anyone knowing, so long as we meet in the godswood. She stayed there for a long while, letting the rich smells of the earth and grass and trees and the soft song of the crickets wash over her until she no longer felt so feverish with longing for the Hound.

When she stood and turned to leave, she saw him.

“My lord!” she cried out, not sounding nearly as composed as she should have been. Could the gods have answered my prayers? “My lord, pardons, I did not hear you enter the godswood.” He had long since stopped correcting her when she called him that. He was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest, and was wearing an olive green cloak over a brown roughspun tunic instead of his white Kingsguard cloak.

“Seems Queen Cersei has had reports about your trips to the godswood. She thinks people might talk if you were to continue walking about unattended. Her Grace has commanded me to escort you on your visits to the godswood from now on, that no one may question your honor and bring disgrace upon yourself or the royal family.”  His face was shadowed, and she wished she could see his eyes.

Sansa realized she was gaping and quickly regained her poise. It’s all coming true, and I never had to do anything. “I thank you, and the Queen, for seeing to it that my person and my honor are kept safe. I am ever loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

The Hound snorted. “Aye, and she means to see that you stay that way.”

Sansa’s heart was like to beat out of her chest. She couldn’t think of how to proceed. They were finally alone together, and she suddenly realized it would not be an easy thing to seduce a man such as the Hound. She was a lady, she could not simply throw herself at him like an inn keeper’s wench, but neither would he fall for the teasing and the charming conversation in which she had been trained. Besides, she had to make sure he wanted her too.

She also couldn’t stand here gaping at him wordlessly all night. Use your lady’s weapons. Courtesy, yes, she must remember her courtesies.

“Have you been to the godswood before, my lord? It’s ever so beautiful. A hidden pool lies some ways from here in the deeper parts of the wood, where the moonflowers grow thickly. They bloom at night and smell like the seven heavens. It would please me to show it to you.” Good, very good, she thought, proud of herself.

They walked side by side along a narrow path, forcing Sansa to walk so close to the Hound they were almost touching. She could feel the heat radiating from his powerful body. It surprised her—she had never realized that a man’s body could warm the air around him. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. He was looking at her. She was having trouble thinking. All of her excitement and nervousness and lust and fear were pooling in her belly and chest, and now it felt as if her heart were beating in her throat so that she could hardly breathe.

They reached the lovely pool in the godswood in what seemed like no time at all. Sansa looked into the mirror-like waters, staring at the reflection of the few stars that showed through a thick canopy of trees. The air felt charged between herself and the Hound, and she felt gooseprickles on her arms. She knew she would have to say something, do something, begin things, before the moment drifted away and the spell was broken, and they walked back to the Red Keep in silence and were never, ever caught again in that power that had swept them together on the serpentine. The gods have already helped me. I must not throw away their favor. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and looked him in the face.

“I am glad you are here, my lord. I have wanted to meet you again… alone… since the serpentine.”

“Why?”

His response surprised her. “I… I have felt so drawn to you since that night.”

The Hound made a sound that might have been a laugh. “Why?”

Now she was flustered. How could she possibly answer his question without embarrassing herself or sounding like a… a whore? “When… When you held me, I…” She lost heart. This was not how she imagined their first meeting alone after the serpentine. Her voice trailed off and she turned her face away from his, pressing her lips together and willing the hot tears stinging her eyes not to fall. I am a fool. He is mocking me, she thought, defeated.

The Hound grasped her chin and turned her to look at him again, his other hand heavy on her shoulder, holding her still. “When I held you?” he growled.

She was breathing as quickly as if she had run up the serpentine just a moment ago. Calm yourself. “Yes,” she whispered.

He seized her in a rough embrace, pressing her hard into his heavily muscled body, one hand tangled in her hair, the other wrapped around her waist, and he brought his face so close to hers that she could no longer see his eyes.

“Like this?” he whispered hoarsely, his lips brushing hers, breath hot and smelling faintly of wine. He is not drunk, she realized.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. She was breathless with expectation. They were so close. Sansa could feel the Hound’s heart beating hard in his chest. Their lips were touching, and his hand on the back of her head kept her from pulling away from him. Not that she wanted to. She licked her lips, and her tongue brushed the Hound’s mouth.

“Ah…” She sucked in her breath, and felt a rush of wetness between her legs. The Hound began to kiss her. She clutched at his tunic as he grazed his mouth softly against her own, his tongue almost lazily stroking her lips, coaxing her to follow his lead. Sansa shyly parted her lips to touch her own tongue to his and he groaned in approval and tightened his arm around her waist. She felt awkward and self-conscious, but soon she was kissing him like she’d been doing it all her life. He kissed her more urgently, and she pressed her lips into his fervently. She swept her tongue along his lips as her mouth moved against his, tasting, feeling, melting into him.

When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, Sansa welcomed him with an urgency that astonished her. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck and Sandor growled as they thrust their hips hard against each other, mouths hungry and fingers tangled in each others’ hair in a desperate need to get closer. Sansa could feel his manhood pressed into her lower belly and she wanted it so badly. The ache between her legs was unbearable and she needed to ease it. She stood higher on her toes so she could try to rub his cock between her legs but it was no good, he was too tall. She whimpered in frustration.

The Hound finally broke their kiss, and they stood there, panting in arousal. Sansa still clung to his neck and ground her hips against his. He thrust against her once more.

“Touch it,” he commanded. “You know you want to.”

Sansa held her breath. I couldn’t… Could I? She could not imagine any lady she had ever known actually touching a man’s… cock… with her hand. The idea shocked her even as it inflamed her desire for him. She had only hesitated for a second, but it was a second too long. The Hound grabbed her hand and thrust it between his legs, rubbing it forcefully against the huge bulge in his breeches. Sansa cried out in surprise.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that what you were drawn to?” he asked roughly.

Sansa’s face was hot with both lust and shame. She was suddenly horrified at her behavior, though her body was still begging for his touch. This is not ladylike. I am behaving like a harlot. I must try to salvage my dignity. Her first instinct was to pull her hand away, as if she had touched a hot kettle, but he held it in an iron grip. “My lord, that’s…” She was going to say “unkind,” but then she remembered how the gods had helped her and how much she wanted the Hound, and wanted him to want her, and so she looked up at him and softly answered, “Yes.”

The Hound let go of her hand but she kept it there, pressed hard between his legs. His eyes were dark with desire and his whole body was tense with the effort of restraining his passion. Sansa could feel it. She stepped closer and softly ran her hand down the length of him, imagining how it would feel without the fabric of his breeches coming between them. She felt an even bigger bulge when she reached the end, and traced it with her fingertips, running over the tip, circling the ridge that separated it from the rest of his… cock. What does it look like? She drew in her breath. It almost seemed like it moved, all on its own. She stroked his bulge again, where his manhood ended, and now there was no doubt, his cock actually jumped as if it was trying to touch her.

Sansa was trembling with excitement and her insides felt like wildfire. The heat between her legs was aching and throbbing, and she knew her smallclothes were soaked with the wetness of her desire. She slowly moved her palm up and down the Hound’s erect cock, marveling at how big it was. It’s long, longer than a dagger, and I wouldn’t be able to wrap my hand around it. She would need to use both hands to hold him. She increased the pressure of her grip and the Hound started moving his hips rhythmically, rubbing himself against her hand. His breathing was ragged. Hers was too, she realized. With her fingertips, she stroked the bulge at the end of his manhood once more, and then squeezed it lightly.

Gods.” The Hound tore off his cloak and wrapped it around her, then swept her up and laid her on the ground before she could even catch her breath. He loomed over her in the darkness. “Sansa…” He kissed her hard as his hand skimmed over her breast. Her nipples were already stiff, and she arched her back, demanding his touch.

“My lord, I cannot reach you…” she gasped, squirming as her hand fumbled for his manhood.

“Good,” he rumbled. He was struggling with the laces on her bodice. She reached up to help him, but her fingers were only in his way so she clutched his shoulders and pulled him down to kiss her again. Her body was on fire and she knew she was about to lose control. She wanted to be close to him so desperately, wanted to feel the weight of his body on top of her, wanted to feel his hips between her legs, bucking and thrusting against her own as he drove his cock deeply inside her, filling her completely. She could not get enough of him.

The Hound gave a sharp tug and her laces finally gave way and her breasts spilled free. Sansa hoped they were pretty enough for him. She thrust her bosom towards him impatiently, her pink nipples hard with arousal. “Such an eager little bird,” he murmured. She closed her eyes and felt his rough fingers tracing the edge of a breast before he cupped it in his hand and ran his thumb over her nipple, over and over. She wriggled and arched her back and thought she had never felt anything so good in her life. Until he put his mouth on her other breast and rolled her nipple between his tongue and teeth, sending a stab of pleasure through her belly so sharp it took her breath away, and she cried out to him as she felt another flood of wetness soak her small clothes.

“My lord, please, please… I need… I need you, please,” she begged. She could not breathe properly.

“Need me for what, little bird?” said the Hound as he drew his tongue slowly over her nipple. He was watching her intently, and when she met his eyes she found she could not look away. He held her gaze and started pushing his hips against her thigh as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. She could feel his hot, heavy cock and she wanted it, wanted it so badly it drove all other thoughts from her mind.

“I need you to… I need…” She tried to work up the courage to say the words. She wasn’t embarrassed anymore, how could she be? It was just that she had never said anything like what she was about to say, even to herself in private.

He stopped moving. “Say it.”

Her fevered need was so strong she didn’t think twice about her dignity. “I need you to… to… f-fuck me,” she pleaded. “Please.” She always remembered her courtesies.

The Hound brought his face close to hers. “With what?” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

‘With what?’ What does he mean? There was only one way a man could… fuck a woman, wasn’t there?

“With your manhood, my lord. With your …c-cock,” she blurted. “Please, please, take me…” she insisted, and strained against him, feeling near tears with impatience.

Sandor Clegane stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her gently. “Hush, little bird, calm yourself,” he said. “I’ll give you what you need.” The Hound cupped her breast again with his huge, calloused hand and slowly moved it down to her belly, over her waist and up her side again. He caressed the edge of her breast, and then brushed his fingers across her nipples. “But I’ll not fuck you.”

“My lord, take me, please!” Sansa implored him. She was panting with her need.

“Say my name.”

“My lord…” she protested. Sansa had never, ever called a grown man by his first name before. It was so familiar, she had only ever expected to call her lord husband by his first name. But then again, she had only ever expected to give her maidenhead to her lord husband, and here she was begging the Hound to take it from her, even though she knew she would never marry him.

“Say my name or I’ll go no further,” he warned, even as he slid his hand lower. Sansa could feel the heat of his touch burning her even through her clothes and she spread her legs in anticipation, tilting her hips wantonly in her eagerness for his touch.

“Sandor. Sandor!” He growled and kissed her fiercely, and finally slipped his hand between her legs, rubbing his fingers along her cleft, the fabric of her gown magnifying the sensation of his touch so she thought she would find her release right then and there. Her cry of pleasure was muffled by the Hound’s mouth, intent upon her own, kissing her as if tonight was their last night on earth. She rocked her hips against his hand, and squirmed shamelessly underneath him, pushing her breasts towards him and throwing her head back. He bent to take a nipple into his mouth and started circling her nub with his thumb as she… as she fucked his hand. Her breath was coming in shuddering gasps. She was almost there, almost there… But it wasn’t enough. “Sandor please, I need… I need more. Please.” She didn’t know how else to say it.

*****

Sandor knew what she needed, even if she didn’t know how to tell him, and he was more than ready to give it to her. His cock was so hard, he didn’t think his breeches could contain it much longer. She was driving him out of his fucking mind as she thrust her breasts at him and rocked her hips under his hand, saying his name so sweetly as she gasped for breath and clung to his neck and kissed him.

He hooked his leg over hers and pulled her legs open wider. Sansa moaned in anticipation as he began to push her skirts up, running his hand slowly along her bare thigh and stroking her along the way. She squirmed and gasped and thrust her hips beneath him. He could have spent hours there touching her and tasting her and looking at every inch of her beautiful body… But she was in too much need, and it wouldn’t be very gallant of him to make her wait much longer.

He gently put his hand over her mound, and then slid his fingers between the folds of her sex and almost lost himself. He exhaled sharply. She was so fucking wet, he had never felt anything like it. His fingers moved smoothly up and down her cleft, between her folds, over her swollen nub again and again, and she cried out wordlessly as the touch of his hand brought her to the edge of release. She thrust her hips against his hand in wild abandon, and looked him straight in his face, into his eyes, and when she reached her peak she closed her eyes and threw her head back for just a moment, and then she looked at him again and he could see her soul in that beautiful blue gaze just then, as her body shuddered with release, and he knew he had to have her.

Sandor Clegane’s breathing was ragged. “Unlace my breeches, Sansa. Hurry,” he whispered hoarsely. She moved with an intensity that matched his own, even though she was still trying to catch her breath. Her fingers, so used to coping with the laces of her own gowns, deftly loosened his laces.

“Take me out. Hold me, not too tight.” he said, as she wrapped her hands around his straining cock. Oh gods, her fingers were so soft and smooth and he couldn’t wait any longer. He moved fully between her legs, nudging them wide apart and throwing her skirts above her waist so that he even in the moonlight, he could see that she was still wet and eager. He started to pump his cock into her hands in hard thrusts. She was writhing beneath him again, breathing excitedly and trying to bring her hips up to his.

“Sansa… Sansa.” His release came upon him so fiercely he had to fight himself not to shout, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered her name as his seed spilled out into her hands and onto her belly, and she softly murmured his name and stroked his hair as he collapsed on top of her.




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