This is a very special short fic written for Westeroswolf's name day! Happy birthday to you, Westeroswolf! It's a bonus scene from my other fic, 'The Exchange', and takes place right after Sansa kisses Sandor for the first time in chapter 6. If you have never read 'The Exchange', I think it's possible you'll enjoy it anyway but if you are currently reading it, I suggest you to finish it first and read this after since this is more like a bonus scene and wouldn't fit with the progression of the story.
A giant thank you to one of our fandom's best author/creator! Kimberlite8 is so generous and she proved it once more by dedicating some of her precious time to beta this fic for me! :D
The sound of dry twigs and dead wood crackled underfoot with each of Sandor's steps as he strode through the dark woods. His heart pumped wildly in his chest and his mind raced at full speed. The girl, the bloody girl, had just kissed him. What the fuck was that crazy little bird thinking doing things like that? From those pretty and courteous knights he'd so often seen her swoon over to himself, there seemed to be quite a descent. She couldn't really have lowered her standards that much, could she?
Stop dreaming, you bloody old fool. That girl has not an ounce of interest in unsavoury dogs like you. She did it solely to thank you, Sandor reasoned, that idea somehow even more absurd than the previous one. Stupid little bird. Maidens or whores, it made no matter, females shouldn't kiss men like him unless they were ready to pay the consequences and go all the way. She was playing at a dangerous game here but the most amazing part in all of this was that the girl was truly oblivious as to how much she was looking for trouble with her actions.
Calm down, dog, Sandor told himself. You can't blame her. She's been raised in a parallel world that has nothing to do with reality by those senseless parents of hers. If she'd have understood the evil she had awaken by breaking the barrier that existed between them, the barrier which had kept him from acting on his most basic impulses so far, there was no doubt she'd have stayed on her bedroll with her eyes squeezed shut to give the pretense of sleep.
Why so fucking fast? Sandor suddenly wondered, slowing his pace. If I didn't know any better, I'd believe I was fleeing from something. The man snorted at the thought. Perhaps he was - there was no knowing what might have happened if he had stayed with her even a moment longer. He'd been hard from the moment she had pressed her lips to his - no matter how innocent the gesture had been - yet his arousal had become even more intense once he took charge and kissed her for real. To taste her delicious plump lips and soft little tongue had been intoxicating to him – overwhelmingly so - to the point that Sandor soon realised his control would evade him if he kept at it for even an instant longer. There was only one cure he knew of for the state she had put him in that didn't involve sullying her in one way or another and Sandor had every intention of resorting to it now that he was on his own.
And here's a good place as any other, he surmised, halting and turning around to peer toward the clearing in which he and the girl were installed for the night. The light their fire emitted was dim and faraway enough by now, although not so much so that Sandor had to worry that anything might happen to the little bird without him noticing. He would do what he had to standing up and alert, fulfilling his duty protecting her even as he let off some steam.
His eyes on the distant glow, Sandor leaned his back against the trunk of a large tree and unlaced his breeches until his swollen member was freed. Without waiting an instant, he took himself in hand, circling his width in a firm hold. He was certainly at his hardest, the man realised, feeling the taut skin and the stiffness under it. Glancing down, he could see a drop of seed was already pearling at the end of his manhood and reflecting in the firelight.
Time was not something Sandor had and thus he immediately started to stroke himself. His cock was staggeringly sensitive and from the very first pump, the ache that had burdened him was chased away and replaced by the familiar but no less exhilarating thrill that always preceded his peaks. Seven Hells. And to think that a simple kiss had heated his blood more efficiently than a whore on all fours, cunt ready to receive him, could ever have. Was it because of how unusual it was? Of all the wenches that had serviced him over the years, very few had ever kissed him at all. Women who had made coupling their profession didn't have time to waste on such trifles and besides, none were naïve enough to believe that was something a man of his sort might long for. Sandor almost laughed at the thought. Had he longed for it now? The mere notion was bloody ridiculous, nevertheless, seeing how his body had reacted, there was no denying he had relished it. He would gladly take more sweet little kisses from her. That and much more…
His large hand tugging down and squeezing harder at his member, Sandor shuddered and groaned at the almost painful increase in sensation the action triggered. The rough sound of his own voice surprised him as it cut through the thick silence that enveloped the night. Loosening his fist and slowing his movements, he laid his eyes on the glimmer of the campfire again. The little bird most likely had not heard him due to the distance but the very fact that he had briefly considered the possibility reminded him of how truly near she was. What would the girl's reaction be if, frightened by some noise coming from the gloom around her, she ran to his side only to find him like that? She'd probably be scared – and with good reasons, Sandor thought wryly. Still, the man also hoped that she'd be at least a little curious. It was ludicrous and something he'd never admit to anyone but he secretly dreamed that she would want him back.
His mood souring at the thought, Sandor scowled into the darkness and stilled his hand completely. While he knew there was no hope that she'd ever desire him, the fact that he yearned for the little bird's willingness made him feel somewhatguilty for using the memory of a perfectly innocent gesture to satisfy his own depraved urges. She was clearly clueless of the effect she had on him and the idea that a simple kiss from her could spark his lust had obviously never even crossed her mind. To look with lecherous eyes on what was nothing more than the silliness of a bloody child – for that was what she was, no matter the deceptive curves that showed through the fabric of her gown - felt almost as if he was abusing her somehow.
"What a load of horseshit," Sandor hissed under his breath, abruptly changing his mind.
Why by the seven buggering hells should he feel any guilt for relieving himself by his own means? In truth he was doing her a favour. Wasn't he saving her from far worst by taking himself in hand? No matter her ignorance, the fact was the little bird had been the one to provoke him and a man like him could easily save himself a lot of trouble by simply taking her right there and then on the forest ground. If the girl had a lick of sense in her, she should be grateful he took care of himself, for that meant he was leaving her a maiden still.
With that in mind, Sandor stopped holding back and let his hand do the dirty job with no more restraints. He would fuck her in his mind. Anyhow, there was no denying the truth: he had done it often enough already, only never without a wall in between them and certainly not with the taste of her skin and mouth still lingering on his tongue.
Putting more of his weight against the tree behind him, Sandor began thrusting his fist around his cock with added vigour. Although he could discern the light of their small fire and even the outline of his horse further away, it was impossible for him to see the little bird, settled as she was on the bedroll. Still, he could picture her well enough. In his mind's eye, she was lying under her furs, all chaste and inviting. When he'd come to her, she'd not reject him, she'd allow him to push all the unnecessary covers away from her alluring little shape. He'd raise her skirts high over her waist and since this was his fantasy, he decided she'd be wet when he dipped his fingers into her.
"Gods," Sandor murmured while adding pressure on his cock. As if it had a life of its own and was begging for more, the damned thing was pulsating under his palm and propelling him to ground his hips against the flat of his hand as if it believed the girl's tight and warm cunt was right in front of him.
His agitation intensifying by the second, Sandor moaned and shifted against the trunk. How fucking good it would be to feel the little bird's virgin cunt open for him. While he had never understood what all the fuss about maidens was, to be the girl's first man and break through her veil would be a dream come true. He craved to soil every bloody inch of her pure, smooth skin until there was naught left of her he hadn't consumed and put his mark on. Was it dirty of him to want her so and to long to subject her to his thirst?
No, not at all… he hastily concluded. It fact, it was as natural as the air he breathed. And in some inexplicable fashion, while she didn't know it and would never agree, the girl was his already. He had hungered for her for so long and so bloody intently that no other man could ever touch her without stealing something from him. Something that was undeniably his.
I'd take her. Again and again and she would like it. Love it even, oh yes she would, he decided, increasing the speed of his shoves into the tight circle of his fist all the while feeling the sweat beading on his brow and rolling down his cheeks. If only the little bird could know how much she was his… perhaps then she'd willingly open her pretty white legs for him. I'd kiss her teats, lick at her soft skin, spread her thighs and bury myself into her… He could almost picture her all open up like a flower before him as he fucked the hell out of her and destroyed all traces of that oh so precious maidenhead …
Fuck… Sandor cursed, sensing his climax coming near. Throwing his head back, he grunted as waves of burning pleasure came from his all too full balls and spread throughout his groin area. A thousand pounds was lifted from his shoulder as his seed came splashing out of his shaft, falling in heavy drops onto the forest ground. For a few seconds, he shivered, desperately moving his hand over his cock while pretending he was spending himself in the deepness of her belly as she greedily took it all in.
For as long as his release lasted, Sandor was content and didn't care for anything in the world that wasn't the bliss that he was assailed with; however, the moment was shortly over with. As it always did whenever he relieved himself with the little bird on his mind, the aftermath left a bitter taste in his mouth. Drained of all fervor, he gazed at the faraway flames of the fire and felt pathetic. The excuses he had made for himself in the heat of passion suddenly sounded abject and empty. Why should it matter? he wondered honestly once his mind was less foggy. Fantasising about a female he had set his interest on was nothing to be ashamed of. Every man did it when a woman took his fancy and it was only natural that he'd want to calm his ardour by his own means if the latter was out of his reach. Although with that kiss, the bloody girl now felt all too reachable…
Fucking rubbish, Sandor mused, lacing his breeches. No matter the kiss, Sansa Stark was still as inaccessible as the buggering Maiden herself … unless he took her unwilling.
Sandor winced. That was a sensible solution to his problem but for some reason, he was averse to truly consider it. Shaking his head to chase the idea away, he slowly started to make his way toward their camp, his mood as dark as the woods around him. He'd see in time how to deal with the issue but for now, he'd leave her alone. As long as she left him alone too.