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You wandered through the castle, distantly aware of the men around you in varying states of distress. Of those who had finished preparing their weapons and stations, some were praying, others openly sobbing, and the rest were drinking. You were numb to it all, focusing on the impending fight.
‘Just another battle,’ you thought, fidgeting with the pommel of the sword at your hip. ‘I’ve made it this far in life without dying, but if I go, then I go.’
You said your own, silent prayer to the Old Gods, partly wishing you could go to the Godswood. However, the Stark boy was there, and his dead-eyed stare made you uneasy. So, you continued to wander, finding yourself heading for the top of the wall.
You passed Lady Arya in the corridor, nodding your head in respect and noting the resolved, confident air with which she walked. Her eyes were focused dead ahead; she was going somewhere with purpose. The girl was a decade younger than you but seemed completely cool and unaffected by the sense of impending doom that had settled over the castle. The corner of your mouth twitched in a small smile and you wished you had half the strength of the young woman.
You climbed the steps and took a breath as the cold air sweeping over the wall struck your face, a chill creeping through your armor despite the leather insulation. You gazed over the open field in front of you; soon that field would be engulfed by the dead and dying. Your eye was caught by movement to your left and you glanced along the pathway. You blinked at the sight of Beric Dondarion, swigging from a wineskin and sitting opposite someone who’s face you could not see. You approached, not exactly wanting to spend your final hours listening to him talk about Rhollor, but at the very least you wouldn’t be alone.
He noticed your approach and greeted you by name, nodding and tipping the wineskin your way.
“What brings you here?” he asked, offering the wine to you, which you gratefully accepted.
“Just trying to find a place to spend what may be my final moments that’s not completely miserable.” You replied, sipping the wine, warmth trickling through your chest as it flowed down your throat.
The man cast in shadow snorted.
“Picked a hell of a spot then,” he growled. “The wolf girl called us some miserable old shits before she left.”
Your gaze snapped to the man, finally focusing on his dimly lit face, half of which was a melted and scarred ruin.
“Clegane?” you said, more warmth flooding you that definitely wasn’t the wine.
“Aye,” he said, reaching for the wine and plucking it from your now loose fingers, slugging it back and taking several messy gulps, wine trickling from his lips to disappear into his beard. “Tried to get away from everyone simpering and crying down there, but everyone seems to keep coming up to bother me.”
You swallowed, feelings you thought you had crushed long ago rising back up. This wasn’t the time for those sort of thoughts or desires.
Or… perhaps it was.
“Clegane,” you said, swallowing the timidity threatening to enter your voice. “I wonder if I may speak to you somewhere else for a moment?”
The Hound regarded you for a moment, expression unreadable, before taking another pull of wine and tossing the skin back to Beric.
“Sure,” he grunted as he rose to his feet. “Not like I have much else to do besides listen to this fucker go on about ‘The Lord of Light’.”
Beric chuckled quietly at that, giving you both a small wave as you turned and lead Clegane back into the castle.
Your feet moved automatically, taking you to the small room you’d taken as your quarters. Well, really it had been a small storeroom, but now it contained a bed of straw and furs, along with the few belongings you had brought on your journey North. You closed the door after Clegane entered, taking a moment to light the lantern by the door. You turned to find him staring at you expectantly.
“What’s this about then?” he asked. “What’s so important we had to come all the way here to discuss?”
You swallowed and inhaled, finally squashing down your doubt and insecurity.
“I want you.” you said bluntly. “We may die tonight. Hell, death is probably more likely than survival. My feelings haven’t changed, Sandor. And I want you. Right now, right here.”
His expression seemed to be frozen, lips slightly parted and deep brown eyes staring into yours. Some may have thought it was a neutral expression, but you knew him well enough to recognize that he was startled. Though just as quickly as it appeared, it faded and he turned his head away.
“Of all the things… you choose this? You want to go into this battle disappointed?”
“I’d be more disappointed if I hadn’t found the courage to tell you,” you replied. “We don’t have a lot of time and…. Gods, Sandor, I just… I fucking need you.”
He remained silent, and you noted the clenching of his jaw and hard gaze of his eyes focused on the stone wall.
“You can have any man out there,” he grunted. “You’re not a hulking monster like Tarth, and you’re the only woman fighting who isn’t a Lady or a Wildling. There’s prettier men than me who’d bed you.”
‘Oh, fuck it all’, you thought, and fumbled your sword belt off, tossing it aside. His gaze snapped to you at the action.
“What in Seven Hells are you doing?” he growled.
]“I’ve made my decision.” You snapped, all but ripping your bracers and breastplate off and hurling them to lay with your sword. “Make yours. You can spend this night with me and forget about the dead marching towards us for a while, or spend it drinking alone like a miserable old shit. Either way, I’m going to spend this night feeling something, with or without you.”
Your shirt was whipped over your head and dropped to the floor, baring your breasts to Clegane’s eyes. Like any man, he stared, mouth dropping open again. You could see the conflict between desire and refusal inside him and you spoke again, gentler this time.
“Sandor,” you murmured, stepping within arm’s reach of him and touching his chest carefully. “You’re right, if I just wanted to fuck, I’d ask any of the men in this castle and probably end up with one or two in my bed. But I don’t want to fuck just anyone, especially not some pretty man. I want to fuck you.”
Huge hands locked onto your shoulders and your eyes flung wide with shock, but it faded when he mashed his mouth to yours roughly. The kiss was sloppy and tasted like wine and stale breath, but you reciprocated just as fiercely. Your hands tangled in his long, greasy hair and you groaned as he yanked your smaller body flush with his massive one.
He broke away for a moment to breathe, your ragged breaths mingling with his own.
“Don’t expect me to be gentle,” he rasped. “I don’t… do this sort of thing. Certainly not with any woman I plan on seeing again.”
You dragged him forward again and sank your teeth into his lip in reply, worrying it roughly until he snarled and bit you hard in response. You tasted blood in your mouth and a fire began to roar in your belly.
“Don’t want it soft. Fuck me so I’m still feeling it while I’m fighting not to die.”
His beard scraped your throat as he moved to attack that next and you blindly scrabbled for the ties on his tunic. No sooner had you got the damned thing off then he roughly picked you up by your waist and slammed you against the wall, rutting against you like, well, like a hound. The breath whooshed from your lungs and you had a moment of dizziness from the impact, but your actions didn’t sway a bit. You hooked your legs around his waist and rolled your own hips against his. He broke away from your neck to return to your mouth and you dragged your hands over his broad chest, scratching your nails through the coarse hair covering it. He growled, a sound that sent a jolt through your core, and ground his hips with yours again.
“Sa-Sandor, oh Gods,” you gasped when he broke away, clutching at his biceps. “More, please… more.”
He obliged, tangling a hand in your hair and digging the fingers of his other into your buttocks. After a moment, his hand dropped to your breasts, squeezing and rubbing, rough palms massaging your pert nipples. He hiked you higher up on the wall so he could reach them with his mouth, latching on and sucking harshly.
True to his word, he was not a gentle lover, actions harsh and abrupt as he took pleasure in your body. But then, you weren’t one for fluttering kisses and teasing little touches like some perfect, porcelain lady. You were a warrior and your body was littered with scars and rippled with muscle. You craved the bruises and the bitemarks and scratches from nails and coarse beards. Sandor’s desperate, crushing grip and sloppy kisses were engulfing your senses, and the moment he sank his teeth into your collarbone hard enough to draw both a harsh cry from your lips and blood from your skin, you completely forgot about the swiftly approaching battle.
“Sandor!!” Your wail muffled against his neck. “Sandor, fuck me!!”
He paused for just a moment and you drew back to look at him. The uncertainty was back in his eyes, just barely, but still there. In a moment of tenderness, you reached for his face, one hand carefully stroking the burned ruin covering most of the right side of his face and scalp.
“Fuck me hard, you damn dog.” You whispered fiercely.
The doubt disappeared from his eyes and he bared his teeth, roughly dropping you to your feet.
“Take these off,” he snarled, yanking the top of your pants before seeing to his own, only going so far as to shove them midway down his thighs.
You openly stared at his cock as you finished stripping yourself, standing straight up from a mess of dark pubic hair above his heavy balls. You were hungrily taking in the heft and length of him and imagining the stretch from him slamming deep inside you. Once your pants and boots were on the floor, he grabbed for your waist, shoving you against the cold wall and covering your mouth with his. You resisted his initial move to hoist you up and smirked at his irritated growl.
“I want to touch you, first,” you whispered roughly, cupping him in your hand. You felt his chest heave and heard the jagged breath he sucked in as you stroked, weighing the thickness of him in your palm, so thick you couldn’t even wrap your fingers around the widest part. Your other hand dipped lower, massaging his sizeable balls. His breath stuttered and he groaned loudly, pressing his forehead to the wall alongside your face. You turned his head to bite his ear.
“I’ve ached for you a long time, you know that?” you growled. “You’re strong, and fierce, and a better-looking man than any of those pretty-boy knights in the songs. I’ve pleasured myself at night thinking of you – all of you – crashing into me and making me yours… as I make you mine.”
Clegane surged forward, hiking your legs about his waist and kissing you so harshly you bit your lip, his cock sliding along your slick cunt. He reached below for a moment to align himself and stared fiercely into your eyes before shoving his length deep inside you.
You slammed your head back against the wall and screamed, only to have the sound cut off as he clapped a hand over your mouth.
“You want to entire fucking castle to come running?!” he hissed, pulling back and slamming in punishingly, forcing a guttural moan from your throat that was muffled against his rough palm.
He withdrew his hand and you mumbled an apology, gripping his shoulders tight as he fell into a harsh rhythm, fucking into you with brutal force. Your eyes watered at the ache and sting of the stretch, but it was glorious and the pleasure of being filled so full far outweighed any discomfort. Pairing this with the scratch of the stone against your back, the scraping of his chest hair against your sensitive breasts, and the sting of his blunt nails gouging your thighs… it all had your senses ablaze. He was burning you with more than just his body heat and you couldn’t get enough. Your arms tightened around his neck and you bit down wherever you could, half sobbing his name raggedly. The sound of your pleasured cries combined with his wordless, labored grunts and the slap of sweaty skin on sweaty skin.
He adjusted your position in his arms, pulling your legs higher and allowing himself to penetrate further, and stars exploded behind your eyes as his cock struck something deep within you that no other man had managed to hit before. You desperately tried to muffle your scream in his neck, burying your nails in his back.
“SANDOR!” You wailed weakly. “There… oh, oh yesyesyesyes, right there!”
He held his position, pounding harshly and quickly. You began shaking, your senses full of so many things; his cock, the sounds he was making, the pleasure of the dull pain of everything he was doing, the harsh and sweaty smell of his body. In that moment, Sandor Clegane was your entire world.
“Ah… ah… aHHHHH, San - ….!!!!”
Pressure burst inside your chest and your vision went black, your cunt slamming tight around him as every muscle in your body tensed at once. You stopped breathing, physically unable to make your lungs work for a few moments. You came down from the place you had gone, slowly, body shaking as your muscles fell loose in his arms. He was still pounding, his face buried in your neck. You tugged his beard until he lifted his face to yours and kissed you, easily overpowering you in your exhausted state. You could hear his breaths turning short and felt his rhythm become faster, more desperate.
You pulled at his hair and pressed your lips to his ear, murmuring quietly.
“That’s it, finish in me, Sandor. I want everything you can give me. Come on…”
It only took a few more rough thrusts before he was crushing you to the wall, snarling from deep in his chest as he pulsed inside you. He had been largely non-verbal the whole time, but you now felt his mouth moving against your throat, hissing words into your skin. You strained your ears, stilling your own heavy breathing. An intense wave of emotion suddenly flooded you as you realized what he was saying. You name, whispered over and over like a prayer, his lips brushing against one spot as he chanted softly to himself. You choked back a sob, wrapping your arms tight about his neck and holding on.
After a few moments, his hips pulled away and his cock slipped from your body. His knees bent and his grip on you loosened as you unwrapped your shaky legs from his waist. For the first time that night, his touch was gentle as he held your waist, ensuring you could stand on your own. You felt his seed spill down your thighs, but paid it no mind, staring up into his dark eyes. The flickering lantern made it hard to read his expression. He always looked hard and sullen, but there was a tired, almost soft droop to his eyelids. He said nothing, though he looked like he wanted to. His mouth opened but for a moment, closing quickly with his lips pressed into a tight line as he sighed through his nose and stepped back.
“You should get dressed,” he mumbled, pulling his pants up and tucking himself away. “We’ll be fighting, soon.”
You swallowed, remembering the horror approaching the castle. You picked up your clothes, taking just a moment to wipe yourself clean with a rag before you began dressing. You half expected Clegane to leave as soon as he was dressed and had his weapon in hand, but he waited. He stepped forward and wordlessly helped you strap back into your armor. You turned when the last fastening was done, staring at his face once again. You didn’t know what you were expecting. A hug, a kiss, a word or two acknowledging your coupling. But then, that wouldn’t be right for him. You reached up and touched his face, his dark brown beard scraping your palm. He leaned into the contact almost imperceptibly and you smiled tightly.
“I’ll be seeing you, Clegane.”
He exhaled lifted a hand to your hair, stroking it just once.
“Aye.” He said simply.
Your hands left one another and took up your respective dragonglass weapons. He hefted his massive battle axe and you strapped on your swordbelt. You extinguished your lantern and followed him out of the store room. You walked together in silence to your respective posts, the heaviness of doom creeping back in with every step. Your chest was tight, but your mind was clear. You didn’t want to die tonight, but if you did, it would be with no regrets.
The deep, winter darkness was approaching, and so too was the army of the dead. But at least you were able to feel a final night of autumn warmth.