All characters belong to the great GRRM
I said I would never write a Red Keep fic and once again I have proved myself a liar. Enjoy!
Sansa stood in front of her chamber door, debating if she should leave the room or not. She knew the dangers that lurked outside of her confinements, The Hound had warned her about them several times when he had caught her in the shadows, dragging her back once again to her dreaded cage. It seemed he used to follow her and reach out of the shadows for her, now she was the one following and desperately reaching to him, but not knowing how. Since the Battle of Blackwater, she had felt herself wanting to be around him more and would often seek him out. She would wake up most nights in a burning sweat, her body begging for his hands to roam over her, his eyes exploring her with a need her mind did not yet understand. She would leave the uncertain safety of her chambers, draped in her dark cloak and roam the quiet, softly lit halls, lingering in the shadows waiting for a glimpse. Sometimes he would walk right past her and other times he would stop and firmly pull her out of the darkness and curse the Seven Hells and push her gently towards her chamber.
Something had changed between them the night he held a dagger to her throat and she sang for him, and for herself, she had been so terrified at that moment, but when she felt his hot tears falling down his cheeks, she knew he would never hurt her. She had watched her fathers beheading, seen his head on a spike and was beaten down by Joffery's guards. The Hound was the most feared warrior in Westros, but Sansa did not fear for her life when she was near him, though he would make her feel intimidated and unsure by his crass words and burning stare. When she saw him in the Throne Room the next day, she tried so desperately to keep her eyes adverted but when the king broke his betrothal to her and took Margaery as his future bride, Sansa could feel The Hounds eyes on her, and she had met his glittering, surprised look at the Kings decision.
Sansa opened the door, crept out and walked away. She felt nervous, but bold at the same time as she made her way towards the hallway that would lead her to the now quiet part of the keep. She knew he would be there somewhere, and tried to come up with excuses to chirp out if he caught her.
Suddenly she heard the familiar sound of The Hounds clanking armour and knew if he caught her out in this area of The Keep he would be furious and haul her immediately back to her chambers and she was just not ready to go back to her cage yet. Forgetting her flimsy excuses, she quickly opened the first door she came to and tiptoed in. Sansa silently closed the heavy door and ran frantically to the furthest, dark corner she could find and hovered down in the darkness so she might not be seen. The only light in the chamber was coming from a pair of tall candles that were placed on a small table close to a large wooden tub. Sansa's hands started to sweat with panic when she realized she was in bathing chamber, ready for someone to use. She could see the bath was already filled with steaming water and large towels were hanging on the wood pegs on the wall, a chair near the foot of the bath.
Her heart jumped when she heard the heavy footsteps stop in front of the door. She stifled a gasp when the door was thrown open and large, hulking figure bent his head down and stepped into the chamber and then slammed the door and shoved the bar across it. He walked noisily over to the change table and unbuckled his dagger and placed it on top, then reached across his chest to his back and removed his long sword carefully, leaning the sheathed sword against the side of the tub.
Her heart was beating rapidly as she froze and watched as he started removing his armour and dropping it noisily to the stone floor. She let a breath out and sucked another in at the loud sound of heavy pieces dropping where he stood. He slowly pulled the dirty chain mail off and shrugged it off with a loud grunt.
She knew she should announce her presence but something inside of her would not let her. She watched in awe as he pulled his tunic over his head, leaving his heavily muscled back to her eyes and draped the tunic over the back of the chair. He flexed his shoulders and reached his arms over his head touching the ceiling above him with his fingertips, and arched into a long, drawn out stretch. Sansa could hear his bones cracking and popping as he clenched and then relaxed his arms and shoulders, dropping them to his side. Something inside of her was making her weak and almost desperate to touch him. She could see a cover of dark hair coming up his forearms and stopping near his shoulders, her eyes roaming, slowly taking in the scarred, expansive back that was facing her. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and then slowly opened one eye as The Hound undid the lacing on his breeches and kicked his tall boots off. She silently covered her mouth, to hold back the shuddering breaths that were wanting to escape. He then hurriedly pushed his breeches off and turned towards the bath and slowly stepped into it, facing her direction. She watched as he submerged himself deeper into the steamy water, his large knees raising up as his head sank down under the water. Sansa could feel her woman's place tingle in a strange primal need, a strong sensation going up her belly and to the tips of her nipples.
The Hound rose up out of the water shaking his mane of raven black hair and pushed it out of his eyes with large calloused hand. He reached beside the bath to the small table and grabbed a bar of fresh soap and a cloth. Suddenly he froze and then lunged, grabbing his sword and growled sensing someone else was in the room. He took a long sniff and then relaxed as if he knew the scent that was lingering in the room.
The Hound could feel Sansa's stare on him, and snorted angrily, the smell of lavender and lemons were a dead give away. He knew she thought she was being quiet as a little lamb, but he could hear her heart beating leagues away. He stood up in the large wooden bath, water running down his hard, warriors body. Little droplets hung on to the tips of the scruff that spread from his cheek, down his neck and met the soft, but coarse hair on his chest. He stood there, facing her, and rasped in a low growl, "Come here Little Bird, if you want a look, don't sit in the shadows, best come over and put yourself to some use." The burned side of his face gleaming in the candlelight and the edge of his grim mouth twitching.
Sansa rose up shakily and stood there dumbfounded, her mouth hanging agape, the fierce blush had taken a new shade of red.
"I said get over here now," The Hound repeated hoarsely, "if you plan on sitting in the dark watching me bathe, your sorely mistaken girl."
Sansa gasped and slowly padded gently over the stone floor to the side of the bath. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor, trying to avoid his manhood that was growing larger by the second, in her peripheral vision.
"I...I am sorry, ser," she sputtered shyly. "I did not want to disturb you...I wanted to say something, but it was to late and you were already in the bath."
"Bugger that Little Bird, and your fucking Sers" he snarled " don't think I never notice you following me around the keep lately, seems you have been flapping your wings and getting a little braver suddenly." He glared down at her, his steely eyes roaming her up and down, making her shiver in bashful anticipation and he cast his sword to the side. "I meant what I said," he rasped handing her the bar of soap and cloth. "Wash me!" He sat back down with smug smile. This will scare the bird off, he thought.
Sansa gulped and then to her and The Hounds amazement she slowly stepped closer and took the soap and began lathering his large shoulders with shaky hands. She could not leave now, what if someone saw that he entered the bathing chamber and then seen her leave. Thank the gods he barred the door to avoid a sure beheading if the king were to find out. She would just quickly wash his back and then turn around and wait till he was done. Then she could leave once it was safe, she reassured herself quickly. The Hound would not tell the king that she had been here, his head would be on a spike beside hers in an instant...or maybe not if Joffery found out, feeling sickened at the thought of what her former intended husband could do. It was a risk she could not take but the feeling of washing The Hound was outweighing any of the doubts she was having.
She quickly finished washing his back, wishing she could keep touching the rough scars and hard muscles. She softly sighed and bent down to pick up the bucket intended for rinsing and placed it in the tub to fill it. She glanced up to The Hounds face and stopped at the dark look in his eyes, replacing the usual cool grey steel. He held her eyes till she could bear it no more and quickly looked away and rinsed his back off with the water from the bucket.
"The Little Bird can watch from afar can she, but can't look me in the eye," he scowled at her roughly.
Sansa put the bucket down and made to walk away, a large hand grabbing her arm made her stop in her tracks. His fingers tightly keeping her rooted.
"Might be I want a look at a bird, if she would be daring enough," he teased with a growl. His hand moving up her arm almost gently, but still gripping firmly.
Sansa looked at The Hound. "That is most improper and if the king..." she faltered.
"Improper?" He sneered at her, "What the fuck did you think it was when you were hiding in the corner, watching me?" He let go of her arm abruptly and pushed her away.
Sansa stumbled and caught herself quickly. What could she say? That yes she wanted him to look upon her, that she wanted those killing hands touching every inch of her. She stood there, conflicted.
"Turn around and face the wall, let me finish up here and I will walk you back to your cage Little Bird," he muttered quietly. "I would not force you to look upon me anymore or subject you to my desires." He rubbed his large hand over his face quickly in frustration.
Sansa stood and stared at the blank wall, shifting back and forth on her feet and slowly she absorbed his words; did he desire her like she desired him? She always felt his eyes on her, intense and harsh, leaving her with a wanting feeling that she could not understand. Sansa took a deep breath and turned and faced The Hound.
He sat there, steam rising out of the bath, his hands gripping the edge and his hair covering part of his burnt face and his steel eyes boring though her, holding her still, a surprised curiosity taking over them.
Sansa stood there, a little unsure and slowly reached her trembling hands up to her hair and started unthreading the loose braid, that hung down past the middle of her back. She could feel his burning eyes on her, watching every finger comb back and forth through her auburn tresses. Her skin felt hot and a sheen of sweat started to creep around the soft curls that framed her face. She left the hair hanging over both her shoulders. She bent down and unlaced her boots, her fingers shaking, and pulled them off, gently reaching up her skirts, removing her stockings, placing them along side her discarded boots. Steadily she grew bolder and started loosening the ties that held her dress closed and then slowly pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let it drop to the floor. She rose her eyes up and locked them with his fleetingly. She could feel the bumps of anticipation forming on her exposed skin and the flush spreading down her body like wildfire. The Hounds eyes were hooded in a lustful gaze, daring her to keep going. She stood there in a simple white shift, looking every bit of the maid she was. Her face glowed in the candlelight under the guise of The Hounds intense smoulder. She looked everywhere but at his face. She felt under his control and could not meet his eyes, she had no idea what to do next, should she take everything else off or would just being in her shift be sufficient enough. She did not have to wait long.
"Take your shift off, you've seen all of me, might be I want to see all of you, " he growled at her, his rough voice sending a thrill from her maiden parts to her toes and back up her spine with a tremulous force.
She gasped and finally met his stare, she looked quickly away glancing at her feet, slowly chewing on her bottom lip in a unsure anxiety. He had saved her from the mob on his own decision, he gave her his cloak and had never raised a hand against her, even when the King ordered it. "Would you stop this if I asked you?" She asked in soft whisper, raising her chin up and once more meeting his eyes.
He looked at her, his gaze softening slightly and he gave her a twisted smile. "I would never hurt you little bird and if you want to stop, the choice is yours, I will never force myself on you," he said in a hoarse voice, almost gentle. His eyes, slowly running up and down her small form taking in her long waves of auburn hair, her darting blue eyes, her translucent shift giving way to the slender, maiden form that was hiding underneath. He could see her shapely, milky white calves and long feet shifting side to side occasionally. He smiled inside himself, at this woman child standing in front of him. Just to see her like this was enough for him, her innocence was addictive and though he yearned for a touch of it, he would never take what was not offered freely, he knew a dogs place and if he only saw what he was seeing in this moment, it would be enough.
Sansa stood there, and then gathering courage from somewhere inside of her, she reached for the hem of her shift and pulled it slowly over her head. Sandor sucked in sharp breath and his mouth was left agape. She stood there in her small clothes, they covered her chest, middle and down to her knees, long laces holding them together. She avoided his eyes and carefully, slowly started unlacing the delicate material. When she got to the last lacing at the bottom of her top, she glanced up to The Hound and was startled by the look of hunger and trepidation coming from his eyes. She notice him swallow hard, and heard more than the usual raspy breathing coming from his depths. She felt a sudden rush of control flow through her veins making her feel slightly bolder and she shrugged the top off and bared her small, rose tipped breasts to his starved gaze.
The Hound stared in disbelief as Sansa's maiden blush creeped from her cheeks, down her neck to her chest. Her hair softly flowing over her shoulders, giving a blanketed view of her slender shoulders and breasts. He could see light brown freckles dancing across her shoulders and her ragged breathing was causing her gentle breasts to heave and her flat stomach to suck in with every inhale. Her ribs were ghosting under the pale, smooth expanse of her middle and her tiny hips curved gracefully into her bottom small clothes. He ground his teeth together, and clenched his fists to keep himself from raising out of the tub and throwing her on the cold stone floor and ruining her. He would make her sing so sweetly by the time he was done with her, they would hear her from the top of The Great Sept of Baelor and to the end of Fleabottom. Yet he remained sitting in the steaming bath, knowing his place.
Sansa raised a hand up and nervously twisted a lock of hair between her long fingers, pulling it across her face inhaling the sweet scent. She knew what she wanted to do, but did not how to approach him. She had never seen a man naked, never had a man look at her like The Hound did and she did not know if he could just be content with what she could offer him. She was not ready to give up her maidenhood and even then, if she wanted to give it away, she could not. It was the prize to be claimed by her husband whether she willed it or not, her future was not hers to direct, but this moment, maybe it could be hers. She slowly stepped toward the bath, finally locking The Hounds eyes with hers and not looking away. She stood there quietly. "What would you have me do, Ser," she simply asked.
The Hound stared at Sansa in amazement. What the fuck was she playing at? Fuck if he touched her at this moment there was no telling what he would do. He kept his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He ground his teeth together and spoke firmly, "Get away from me Little Bird, get away now, or else your maidens blood will be on your thighs, I would not take what is not mine, but do not tempt me like this." He shook his head. He could feel his desire under the water. He was so hard it was starting to hurt. He just wanted to take himself in hand and release the pressure that was ready to explode.
Sansa looked at him, "I can't walk away," she whispered, her eyes pleading with his. "I don't know what to do, but don't turn me away, please."
Sandor groaned in frustration, he looked away from her pleading eyes, and settled his gaze on the chair in front of the bath. An idea flickered across his mind and he turned to look again at Sansa, her chest slightly heaving and her clear blue eyes questioning, looking back at his. "You crazy, naïve Little Bird, do you know what kind of fucking torture you are putting me through? Your head would be on spike alongside mine if the prick of a king found out that you were standing here, tempting his dog," he growled harshly.
"Torture? You mean to tell me about torture? Sandor, the King could take me anytime he wants, he could hand me over to his Kings Guard and laugh the whole time as they took me. I am not afraid of you, I dream of you taking me, I think about you taking me yet it cannot be, that is torture. Standing here, completely bare to your gaze and not knowing what to do, terrified of your rejection or your mocking words when you come to get me from my chamber in the morning after seeing me like this," she cried, her eyes filling with tears and suddenly feeling completely vulnerable. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stood there. "I know you think of me naïve but I can't help it, I need your hands on me..." She started again.
"Fuck!" He swore under his breath, he could take it no more. "Stop talking and go sit in that chair Sansa, bugger it all to the Seven Hells."
She looked at him feeling rejected and sadly turned to the chair and sat facing him, her hair falling in front of her face, she could feel the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Stupid Bird, she thought to herself, what were you thinking? She could not raise her head up to meet his glare.
"Sansa, look at me," he commanded softly.
She shook her head.
"Look at me," he repeated, this time more reassuring.
She peeked out beneath her hair and met his gaze, timidly.
Sandor leaned back against the tub and took her in a slow leer. He placed his arms on the edge, resting comfortably, gradually releasing the tension in his clenched hands. He swept over her, top to bottom, her soft auburn tresses flowing gracefully down her front, her beautiful blue eyes, a little confused, gazing back at him, her perfectly grown breasts peeking out from under her waist length hair, her long, slender legs with little knobby knees facing him and her constantly fidgeting feet curling her long uneven toes. Her arms were down her side, clenching the sides of the chair, fingers gripping hard. He glanced back to her face and there it was again, a flush slowly creeping down her cheeks heading towards her neck and chest. He gave her an amused scowl.
"So the little bird wants my hands on her does she? Might be I would like to place my hands on her too, but in the meantime show me where you want my hands placed," he said hoarsely removing a hand from the edge of the bath and placing it in front of him, under the water, slowly wrapping his large fingers around his throbbing shaft and slowly moved his hand up and down relieving some pent up pressure.
Sansa's eyes shot up in surprise, "What are you doing!" she gasped.
"Imagining your hands on me Little Bird, would you like to put your hand around me and stroke me to release? Might be you would, but not today," he panted clenching his teeth together, holding her gaze with his own. "Show me how you want to be touched Sansa."
Sansa could feel the heat pooling in her woman's place, a intense feeling threatening to consume her. She felt a sudden wave of shyness come over her again, one moment so bold, the next a timid fluttering bird. She pushed the feeling away, bent her arm down and slowly brushed her fingertips up the sides of her legs, then across her belly, up through the middle of her chest and across her shoulders and down the other arm. She let her arms rest lightly in her lap. She chewed nervously on her trembling bottom lip, knowing what she should do next, but lady's properness holding her back.
Sandor watched her, he could tell she was nervous, he wondered if she had ever touched herself before. Had she ever brought herself to release, he was beginning to have his doubts. He slowly stroked himself, enjoying the vision in front of him. He had never had a shy maid in front of him and especially one who he only lived for. In that moment he knew he had to instruct her otherwise he would be the only one coming out satisfied, and she looked like she was going to snap in anguished frustration. He grinned, and stopped stroking himself for a minute.
"Little Bird, have you ever touched yourself, really touched yourself, might be you need some instruction," he teased her in a low rumble. "When you dream of me touching you what do you do in these dreams, show me," he demanded. His eyes glittering darkly in the candlelight.
Sansa sat rooted in her chair, her hair was clinging to the side of her face and shoulders. She took a deep breath and slowly raised her hands to her chest and softly traced small circles over the expanse of her heaving breasts. She stared Sandor straight in the eye and gently tugged her perk nipples and a ragged breath escaped her open mouth. Her heart was thundering inside and she could feel her woman's place clench tightly, overwhelming her senses. She licked her lips.
Sandor groaned deeply, he picked up the pace of his strokes. "Fuck, your teats are glorious, they would feel even better under my hands and I would lick them till you were screaming for me to lick you somewhere else," he rasped hoarsely. His eyes were heavy lidded in lust and he could feel himself wanting to let go. He knew he had to slow down.
Sansa gasped at his crude words, she could feel her thighs spreading under his stare and the thought of his mouth on her nipples made them harder than she ever felt before and a sudden wetness escaped her maiden lips as he said he lick her somewhere else. She moaned at that and suddenly froze as she realized his meaning. Her legs were spreading further apart as she contained to rub and squeeze her breasts, her eyes locked in a stare down with his. She could not look away, the intensity of his gaze made her quiver in wanton desire.
Sandor noticed her legs opening gradually and saw how her feet were now planted on each side of the chair, she was starting to slump down in her lustful state, her mouth half opened. Her hands busily cupping and stroking her breasts and he needed her to move them down to her covered womanhood. He flicked his eyes to her bottom small clothes and back to Sansa's eyes, he wanted to see her hand slip beneath them and pleasure herself and completely let go. He flicked his eyes back down again desperately needing her to move her hands down. His breath was getting ragged at the thought of her rubbing her nub and he knew he was close to release.
"Sansa, move your hand down, under your small clothes, now," he demanded urgently.
She stared back at him, and then slowly moved her hand down from her breasts and crept down to her small clothes and gently placed a long finger between her wet folds. She gasped at the feeling and stopped suddenly. Her eyes widening at the wonderful, but shocking reaction she felt.
Sandor nodded her on, his hand motions getting frantic and he watched as she tilted her head back, her front completely arched forward and she started moving her hand faster under her small clothes. "Fuck Sansa!" He moaned as his release came upon him and he slumped down in tub, slowly relishing the last of his control and stared at Sansa, who was coming completely undone in front of him.
Sansa rubbed herself furiously, her eyes were glazed over and were slightly closed. She could feel a build up of intensity ready to burst. She needed more and the hungry look on Sandor's face made her suddenly stand up and rush to the side of the tub and kneel down beside him. She gripped his muscled arm and urgently tugged him close to the edge. He looked down into her wild blue eyes, as she pulled him closer. Her hand was still rubbing quickly in her small clothes and she brought her face up to his, her lips closing on his in desperate need. Sandor reached down and hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her up over the side of the tub, leaving her resting against it as he crushed his lips to hers and stifled the moans that were coming out of her luscious mouth. He firmly but gently, held her face in the palm of his large hand and slipped his hot tongue in her mouth and captured the final moan as she finally found her release, shuddering against him. She kissed him passionately like he was the air she breathed, her eyes closed and her fingers gripping his arm with a strength she did not know she had. She finally let go and Sandor slowly released his mouth from hers and watched in amazement as she sank to the floor beside him, her body heaving in spent exhaustion.
Sansa laid on the floor and stared up at the wooden tiled ceiling. Her heart still pounding from the aftermath of this unexpected experience. She raised her hand up to the edge of the tub and searched for Sandor's hand. He grabbed it and squeezed gently and then peered over the edge and stared down at her. Her body was flushed and her mouth was hanging open and her hair was laying around her in a complete disarray. Her breasts were heaving towards him and one leg was spread wide while the other was bent and her foot was resting against the opposite shapely calve. Her other arm was resting behind her head and she looked at him and smiled, a bit of shy smile. He twisted his face at her and grinned.
"What in the Seven Hells was that Little Bird?" He growled roughly, his usual steel eyes relaxed at the sight lying to his side. He shook his head and pressed his lips to her hand before releasing it and stood up and reached for a towel. He wrapped himself in the towel and stepped out of the bath and walked around the tub and loomed over her, extending his hand towards her. Sansa quickly grabbed it and he pulled her up against him and wrapped his huge arms around her and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, deeply breathing in the scent of her hair. Sansa placed her arms over his shoulders and placed her face into the soft curls of his chest. She ran her fingers through the ends of his dark hair and sighed continently, forgetting the world for one moment and smiled.
Sandor gently broke their embrace and ran his hands through her hair and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He cleared his throat and looked thoughtfully into her eyes. "Right," he said, "best get dressed and get you back to your room before the whole Kings Guard is sent looking for you Little Bird, we don't need our heads sitting on spike by the morning."
Sansa nodded and went to put on her small clothes and stockings and then pulled her shift over her head. She sat on the chair and put her boots on and laced them up. She looked over to Sandor as he quickly dressed himself and buckled his armour on. He turned to her as he finished strapping his sword and dagger on himself and took in her beauty. She smiled at him and started combing her fingers though her tangled tresses and braided it back into the same loose style she arrived in. He went over and picked up her discarded dress and handed it to her. She pulled it on and quickly laced it up. A quiet silence hovered between them as they each thought on what had happened between them.
Sansa walked to Sandor and placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"Nothing to thank me for Little Bird," he scoffed down at her, gently placing his hand over hers, drawing small circles on her wrist with his thumb. "You did all your own work," he chuckled coarsely. "Might be next time I can lend you a hand."
Sansa gasped and turned bright red and started pulling away from him. Sandor pulled her back and placed his hand under her chin and raised her face up to his and bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Sansa moaned under his mouth and slightly opened hers and flicked his bottom lip with her tongue. Sandor gently pushed her away and put his hands firmly on her shoulders and then looked at her with narrowed eyes.
"Do not let me find you out in this area of The Keep again, understand, I said I would keep you safe but you have to stay close to your chambers, there all kind of rats lurking about and would not think twice in ruining you, do you hear me!" He shook her gently to make his point.
"Yes I understand, I am sorry, it won't happen again," she said quietly, looking down at her feet then meeting his eyes again, "but I am not sorry what just happened here, do you understand that, Sandor?"
Sandor nodded and started towards the door, he removed the bar and glanced down both ways and then beckoned her to follow. "Keep close to the shadows bird, and I will take you back to bed," he whispered with a gentle rasp.
They walked quickly back to her chamber, Sansa lost in thoughts about what had happened and Sandor, his stoic self again, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who was lurking in the hallways.
Sandor stopped beside the door and looked around once more and opened it for her and motioned for her to go in. Sansa looked up at him and nodded and went to go in when he suddenly pulled her back towards him. He held her arm firmly and held her in a stare. Sansa felt a pull in her heart as he studied her with mixed emotions that she never seen before in his eyes. She could see a longing and softness in them and she knew in that instant that he stayed for her. Sandor raised his other calloused hand and cupped her face, softly brushed his rough thumb across her gentle lips and bent down and kissed her.
It was a slow and heartbreaking kiss, for he could not say beautiful words to her. Sandor was not a man filled with tender words of love, but Sansa did not need the words to spill from his ruined mouth, she knew what he wanted to say when he laid her hand over his heart and covered it with his own.