Story involves SEX. I'm cutting out the most explicit stuff because I've had stories booted off this site before, but if you want the full monty you can go over to A03 and find it there.

I'm not specifying Arya's age in the text – I'm sure it's whatever it needs to be to comport with everybody's comfort level and local laws regarding age of consent. *settles halo on head*

You'll probably be confused if you didn't read Over the River first. If you're too lazy, the basic synopsis is: the Hound has successfully gotten Arya to the Eyrie and helped her kill a lot of people, a process during which they bonded a great deal.

The wolf girl stomped into his bedroom one morning and shook him awake. "Up. Up. You owe me."

"What?" He'd drunk too much last night – much too much. There was a foul taste in his mouth. "Owe you? The fuck do I owe you?"

"You promised," she said – lowering her voice when she realized his state. He managed to grunt a thank-you before stuffing his head under a pillow.

Arya followed him in there. "You promised me," she whispered into his ear, "That when I flowered you'd take me to a whorehouse and get me one to celebrate. Remember? It was ages ago but I-"

"I remember." Not really, but it sounded like something he'd say. "I'm in no shape to go whoring now, girl. Come talk to me in a couple of hours."

She sighed and crawled out of bed.

She caught him later on in the training yards. "You look like shit," she told him.

He'd thrown up twice already and his stomach was warning him that it wasn't done. "You ever tried fighting the morning after you drink?" He swung the sword again. Actually hit, more or less, what he was aiming for. "It's not easy. Takes fucking practice."

"You're not serious."

"Be glad I'm good at it. I've fought sick for you before." He walked over to the rail and leaned out – it would be impolite to actually foul up the practice floor – and puked again. Not much came up this time. Still, there was something undignified about hanging over the edge and heaving helplessly, and he stopped as soon as he could. "What do you want, girl?"

"I want to go whoring. Not til you're done being sick, obviously. But you said we could, once I bled."

"Mm." He was still drooling. Might retch again in a moment.

"And now I'm bleeding." She looked over her shoulder, to see that nobody was nearby. Stuck her hand down her pants and then held it out. "See?"

The sunlight was too bright for his eyes to focus right away. When he realized what she'd done he flinched away from her and made a face.

"What?" She wiped it off on her clothes. "It's just blood."

"Aye but-…" He hung back over the railing just in case. "Ugh. And you can't go fuck now anyway," he said. "You have to wait til it stops."

"Why?"

"What why. You don't kiss with a mouth full of food, do you?"

"Oh." Then she was beside him, offering him water. "When does it stop?"

"I don't know." He rinsed his mouth and spat over the railing. "It's moon blood. Comes at the full moon, or something. Goes away… later."

She laughed at him. "You have no idea at all, do you."

He shook his head. "Not a fucking shred." Took a careful sip of water and stood up. "Now go away, I'm busy."

"Gladly. Can we go once I stop bleeding?"

Anything to get rid of her. "Fine."

She managed not to cling to his arm, but she couldn't stop herself from pressing against him and keeping one hand on her sword. She'd never been to a brothel before – and this one was very intimidating. It was a nice brothel, big and fancy, a week's ride away from home. ("If your uncle finds out," the Hound had warned… and then stopped, because they couldn't even imagine what Littlefinger would do.)

The Hound was negotiating with a pretty lady in silk. "Nothing special for me," he said. "I like them to move and follow orders and not stare at me. Older's fine, and I don't care about the face." The pretty lady nodded, and spoke privately to an even prettier assistant, who nodded and swept out. "The important thing is this girl," the Hound said, nudging Arya forward. "She's virgin and needs to stay that way. Just looking for some pretty little thing to lick her cunt and make her happy. Boy, girl, she doesn't care. Can you help us with that?"

To lick her-…? Arya tried not to look surprised. Tried not to look like she had no idea what she was doing.

"Of course," the woman said, smiling at her. "Together, or separate rooms?"

"Together," Arya said at once. Not that she was scared, or out of her element, or anything. The Hound was looking at her with raised eyebrows, so she gave him a shrug. "What? It's cheaper, isn't it?"

It was a mystery to him why he was suddenly shy about fucking in front of the wolf girl; he'd done it a dozen times since he'd known her. Still. Now that she was a woman (technically. He'd seen horses more womanly than this) it felt odd, but what did it matter, so he just shrugged it off and went where he was led.

It was a big room with oversized mattresses covering near half the floor and transparent gauze curtains hanging down at intervals. He took off his sword belt and his boots, and then a woman came in for him and pushed him down into the cushions. "Does milord want me to undress him?"

"No," the wolf girl answered for him, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Watching. "Milord doesn't undress to fuck."

He sighed up at her. "You've got your own girl to mind for a change," he said. "Leave me alone."

[[[REMOVED FOR RATINGS REASONS. SEX SCENE IN WHICH SANDOR & ARYA MAKE ACCIDENTAL EYE CONTACT WHILE HOOKING UP WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE PROFESSIONALS. OOPS.]]

Arya was so worn-out by the end that she lay boneless and sleepy for an hour, but as they left she was bouncing off the walls with excitement. "That was so much fun. It was! How do they learn to do that? Why doesn't everybody do that? When can we come back?"

He tried to be gruff with her. "You're the one always complaining about the cost of whoring. Do you have any idea what this place runs? I could have fucked for a year on this."

She rolled her eyes. "This was better than a year of those awful girls you usually get."

He didn't disagree with her, necessarily. His woman had had him twice – and she'd been excellent. The second time she'd gotten on top and done it all herself, reproducing his rhythm perfectly and slithering her hands in to find skin underneath his leathers. The freckled girl, for her part, had put on a quite a show with Arya (which he wasn't prepared to admit to enjoying) and then gone on to put on a show with her twice-fucked colleague as well.

(Arya had been fascinated with that. "Is that what she was doing to me?" she'd asked, sprawled out exhausted against him. And he'd answered – before it occurred to him that he ought to lie and say he hadn't noticed. "Some. The mouth. Didn't have that hand so deep in you though.")

"We are definitely coming back," Arya said with authority, and swung up onto her horse.

And then gasped, eyes bugging out, practically convulsing on her saddle.

He had to laugh at her. "Should be an interesting ride home."

TBC.

Let me know what you think!