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Sansa left the Great Hall, hands clasped behind her back. Ever since she came back to Winterfell, a woman grown and twice as bitter, she took much pleasure in the rebuild. It would never be the Winterfell of her parents, but slowly it was home. She couldn’t stand the mumbling of large crowds, even those of loyal banner men and family. So she snuck away for cooler air and quieter hallways. She smiled to think of Arya sneaking away when she was a child, hiding for hours at a time. She was snatched out of her reverie by a large hand clasping around her dainty waist, pulling her into a small alcove.
“Little Bird, there are dangerous men about…you must be careful”, a rumbling voice answered her. Sansa feigned shock on her face.
“I’m the Lady of Winterfell with a ferocious sworn sword. A large, POSSESSIVE man who always make sure I’m safe and satisfied.”
Sandor laughed, his chest rumbling against hers. She leaned up to kiss him, his mouth hard on hers, her nipples rubbing against his muscular torso- stimulating them even through all the layers of fabric. They paused, a few of the serving women passing by very close. She even felt the movement of air from their passing.
He snaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, if it was even possible. Kissing her further down onto her neck, collarbone, delighting in her small squeaks he ignored her tiny protests.
“Sandor someone is going to see us!”
“What of it?” he answered, his voice slightly muffled by the top of her bodice. Sansa gave in- closing her eyes and reveling in the feel of his stubble on her soft skin, his hot tongue swirling on her sensitive flesh. Feeling warm between her legs, her knees buckled slightly, Sandor’s hands on her waist holding her up. They froze again when they heard a loud voice-
“HOLD ON THERE! Bring back that mutton!” – an inebriated Lord Manderly barely noticed them, waddling past pointing at one of the cooks.
Sansa began to laugh, and squealed a little too loudly as Sandor turned them around, pressing her back to the wall. She hiked herself up, her legs wrapping around his waist and rubbed herself against him, grinding herself wantonly against his hardness. Growling, he put one arm under her butt, holding her up and started hitching up her skirts with the other.
Sandor began to thrust a bit against her in her smallclothes, reveling in the heat of her even though his breeches were still laced. He was rewarded with her tiny gasps, her coral mouth set in an “O”. Feeling her silky smooth thighs against his calloused hands was a pleasure in itself. He didn’t think he would ever get over being able to touch her in this way, to kiss her, to smell her, to pleasure her. Suddenly he was overcome, and ducked his head, ripping the top of her bodice with his teeth.
“Oh!” Sansa proclaimed as her milky teats spilled out to the mercy of the Hound’s hungry, warm mouth.
“Thank the gods”, he said, nuzzling the warm skin with the side of his face, the scars rubbing her nipple in a most stimulating way. He had just suckled one in his mouth, a vibrating starting in her chest when he felt her fluttering hands start to work on his laces, his thigh in between her legs suddenly not enough as he gently bit down on her hard point.
Sansa was enjoying the play on her breasts so much that she hadn’t noticed that he had unlaced the ribbons on the side of her small clothes and his finger now teased up and down her slit. Again, freezing when a group of the musicians stomped by, tuning their instruments and laughing into the ale.
Sandor smiled- the scare only caused her to get wetter, the tops of her thighs trying to tighten more around his hand.
“Like the risk Little Bird?” he said, once more kissing her full lips.
“It’s exciting”, she breathed back against him.
His breeches suddenly became loose and he shifted her up, letting them drop the floor in a heavy thump. He removed his hand from her, pressing his bare erection against her bare mound. They both sighed, relishing the feel of skin on skin. Sansa rubbed against him, the friction just not enough.
“Please Sandor! PLEASE!” she huffed. Sandor growled, grabbing her hips and slid into her wet heat, relieved as he felt her tightening around him. She leaned forward, kissing his neck, rubbing her breasts against his leather jerkin.
He ground against her, working her on his hard member. His hard abs rubbed against her clit, and every time he slid into deep she could feel him hitting a ticklish spot way inside. Sansa’s breath hitched high in her throat; she reached behind her with one hand, grabbing at anything to keep her in place. Her other hand curled around one of Sandor’s massive shoulders.
He could feel her legs tighten around him, but he was lost in her. Her scent, her breasts bouncing against him, her wet heat surrounding him as he draws out and plunges back in.
“Harder”, she whispered against the shell of his ear. He increased his intensity, and when he felt his balls tighten he knew he had to hold on till she peaked.
“I don’t know where she went”, suddenly said a feminine voice out of nowhere. Sansa stopped, tapping Sandor to stop thrusting and groaning. He did, but it took all the self-control he had. He paused inside of her, both of them on the precipice of release. He pulled back from her, looking into her dark blue eyes…and started again, grinning wickedly. She shook her head, but couldn’t help the sensations once again culminating in her belly and between her legs. Pursing her lips together, she saw the new Maester stop with Beth Cassell about two feet away from the darkened hideaway.
“She did seem out of sorts” he replied, the chain clanging around his neck. The thought that they could look over and see her and Sandor caused a pang of anxiety, making the oncoming peak even closer. Beth and the Maester began to move on, and just in time to have Sandor increase his thrusting to a fever pitch. He kept hitting that little place inside of her and when he reached down and circled her clit, it was all she could do not to cry out in unbelievable pleasure. Just as the two finally turned a corner she gasped aloud, her legs trembling around his waist. He felt her peak around him, her hot breath on his beck and finally let go, releasing his seed into her. He spasmed against her, his softening cock prolonging her pleasure. His hands still capable- just barely- of holding her up.
Sansa could barely catch her breath- he would never stop surprising her with his passion. She slinked down the wall, her legs framing his on the way down. She ended up sitting on her skirts, absentmindedly trying to mend her bodice. Sandor pulled his breeches up- as much as he liked the public rutting, he didn’t want his arse out there for all to see. He kneeled in front of his bird, smoothing her hair off her sweaty brow. He met her eyes, gray meeting blue.
“Unbelievable”, she said to him, all her limbs still tingling, her legs still weak from her release.
“I’m sorry about the dress”, he said, kissing her breasts again, her oversensitive nipples. Just as Sansa’s breathing became heavy, he tucked one of the edges inside, making her presentable again. She hit him playfully, again aroused. Smiled and stood up.
“I found her”, Sandor announced loudly, never taking his eyes from her face. Beth and the Maester saw them and came over, smiling.
“I just needed some fresh air; thankfully I had Sandor to give me a ride- I mean escort me around the Greenhouse.” They nodded, and started back to the Hall. Sandor grinned at Sansa and she playfully swatted at him again.
“Anytime My Lady”.