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nevermorered · 6 years ago

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SanSan #6 please. (And I hope you are feeling better)

#6. Walking in on the other jerking off.

Pairing: SanSan

Rating: M

The castle was always packed and humming with soldiers and people milling about, especially now that there was no daylight. It didn’t matter the hour, there was always people awake. Like Sansa. She found that she hardly ever retired to her chambers anymore, and now that she shared it with Arya and Brienne to help make room for everyone, it wasn’t like it offered her any real privacy.

The hour was lost on her anymore, and it wasn’t like it really mattered. The dead didn’t seem to keep polite hours either. For the past several hours, she had been repairing clothing and helping to add layers ofleather and wool to the newly repaired pieces of armor. Her fingers stung, her back ached, and her head was starting to throb with the constant noise around her. She wanted a moment of silence to just breathe, and possibly cry because she’d wanted to cry for so long but everyone looked to her, the Lady of Winterfell, for strength. After making certain that Brienne had really, truly retired for a couple of hours and that Arya would keep an eye on things for a bit, Sansa went in search of a quiet place with no people.

It took a while. The few places that she’d originally planned were otherwise…occupied. Sansa couldn’t blame them. War brought out priorities and heightened desires. Lovers, and sometimes complete strangers, needed the release, the closeness, the thrill of still being alive. Sansa herself had been burned with those desires of the flesh, but not for any stranger. There was only one that caused her belly to ignite with want and her skin to itch with the need for touch.

Unattainable. Sandor Clegane was not so weak as to give into the desires of the flesh. His focus was fighting and winning the war.

Finally, back behind the kitchens, she found an empty hall.With a deep breath, she leaned back against the warm stone wall and let her eyes fall closed. Her ears hummed with the lack of noise, but her headache seemed to increase with the silence. Reaching up, she pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve the pressure, but the action stung the tips of her raw fingers. Sticking them into her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears build up behind her lids.

But then she heard it. At first it was just heavy breathing, there behind a door that Sansa thought led into a storage pantry for unused kitchen supplies. For a brief second, fear flared up in her chest as she thought perhaps a wight had managed to sneak in through the castle walls, but then there was a deep grunt, most assuredly a man’s. A living mans. Whoever he was sounded like he was in pain and Sansa rolled her eyes in exasperation. Too many of the soldiers tried to hide their injuries, not wanting to seem weak. With a gentle scolding on her tongue, Sansa moved to the door and grasped the handle, but the next noise stopped her.

The man was moaning, but it wasn’t a sound of distress. She’d heard it enough by now to know the sound of pleasure. There was a man, likely with another person inside, engaging in some sort of sexual release.

“Gods.” The man rasped and a cold chill quickly ran through her body with a shiver at the same time as a tiny flare of want tightened herwomb. That voice was known to her, engrained in her mind forever. It wasn’t some unknown man behind that door, it was Sandor Clegane. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she tried not to cry out loud at the idea of him engaged in something so intimate with another woman.

“Fuck me, little bird.”

Sansa sucked in a shocked breath. That was her nickname, that was what he called her. Was he calling this unnamed woman the same thing? Was it not so special to her that he called others it as well? But then he groaned, a broken sort of noise, and started chanting something softly. Sansa leaned into the door, straining to hear better, but then her stomach dropped pleasantly as heat engulfed her when she finally made it out.

Sandor Clegane was saying her name over and over again, his voice labored and broken and full of need that bordered on begging.

Needing to see this woman that he was pretending was her, Sansa carefully tugged on the rope handle until the wooden door was cracked enough that she could make out what was inside by the flickering light of a candle that was sitting on an upturned bucket. But there was no woman. Only Sandor. His armor was piled on the floor near him, his breeches bunched around his spread knees. He had his back braced against the wall, head thrown back and jaw clenched tightly as his heavy breathing hissed through clenched teeth. One of his hands had his tunic balled up just under his chest, fingers turning white with his grip, leaving his stomach muscles in view. They were flexed and hairy, gleaming with a bit of sweat in the light of the candle. But what held her rapt attention was his other hand. It gripped his erect manhood and was stroking it with quick flicks of his wrist.

Sansa couldn’t look away. Her entire body was flushed with want, her stomach tightening with it while the place between her legs began to throb. A part of her mind was telling her that she needed to turn and leave, to give him his privacy, but her legs wouldn’t work and her eyes wouldn’t pull away from the sight in front of her. He was stunning like this. Exposed and wanting ,so achingly masculine yet vulnerable. She wanted nothing more than to place her hand on his and feel that hard length of him. To wrap her hands around him and bring him that sort of pleasure. She could mimic the movement he was doing, she was certain, but then, as she watched, his movement ceased completely, hand still holding himself.

Pulling her eyes away from that part of him, she peaked up to find his grey eyes staring right back at her. They were wide with shock, but the rest of his face was completely stoic and blank.

“I…” Sansa was going to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. His eyes tracked her face, the column of her throat, the length of her body. Unable to help herself, Sansa clenched her thighs tightly to ward off the throb between them. Sandor caught the motion, eyes flying back up to hers. His face was no longer stoic. The tense lines were all relaxed and he parted his lips to let out a breath, his tongue coming out to wet them. An undignified squeak erupted from her throat, and Sandor’s mouth quirked in amusement.

“If you’re going to watch,” he growled, his hand picking up it’s movements again. “Step in and close the door.”

Without her conscious permission, Sansa stepped inside and pressed the door closed and leaned back against it because her legs felt far too wobbly to hold her weight.

“Sansa.” He rasped her name, the amusement that had been there in his face and voice were now gone. Now he was filled with vulnerability and naked desire. It gave Sansa strength. Pushing herself off the door, she stepped into his space, holding his gaze the entire time. When she was within reach, she reached out to place her hand on the one of his still clutching his tunic. She tugged it free, and Sandor watched with wide eyes as she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

Something like a sob rumbled in his throat. Sansa stepped closer to him and brought his hand around her waist, pressing it into her lower back so that he would keep it there. Bringing her hand back around, she pressed it to his chest and with her body almost touching his, she lowered her other hand to his erection. Still watching his face, she danced her fingers down from the head of him to where his hand clutched the base.

“Show me.” She whispered and finally Sandor moved. Letting go of himself, he took her hand and gently wrapped his much larger hand around hers so that she was encircling him. Then he started guiding her hand up and down.The feel of him surprised her. It was hot, like steel, but pulsing with life and wrapped in skin so soft it felt like velvet. She had the insane urge to press her lips to it. Instead, she focused on his face and let him move her hand.

It wasn’t long before his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his face twisted in something like a grimace. His breathing started to come out in harsh pants and he pulled her tighter against his side, his face dipping down to press into her neck.

“Ah, gods, Sansa.” He groaned and his penis flexed, swelled and then a sticky, warm fluid covered their entwined hands. Sansa gasped when it happened, knowing that he’d found his pleasure and had spilled his seed on her.

When the tense line of his body went relaxed and his hand dropped hers, Sansa suddenly felt awkward. Did she leave? Did he regret this? What was the next step? What was she supposed to do or say? But then he was pulling his face from her neck, the hand on her lower back reaching up to cup the back of her head. And then he was pressing their mouths together and it was like no other kiss Sansa had ever received. It was gentle and sweet, but a simmering heat burnt her lips as she let them part on a gasp. The rest of it was a bit sloppy and hesitant, but it was so full of feeling that it brought tears to her eyes as she tentatively swirled her tongue along his.

A few moments later, Sandor pulled back, both of them breathing heavily. He lifted his head so that they were able to look at each other and Sansa couldn’t help but smile at the wrecked look on his face.

“That was wonderful.” She beamed. “You were stunning.”

He snorted, but didn’t argue for once. Instead, he took hold of her waist again and turned them so that she was the one against the wall.

“I imagine you’re pretty damn stunning when you orgasm.” He leaned forward to touch their lips together before pulling away again. One of his hands pressed into the wall above her head and the other flattened low on her belly. “Show me how to make that happen.”

Tipping her head back, Sansa inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily.Then she placed her hand over his and decided that this was a much better way toget rid of her headache than resting in a quiet corner of the castle.

Prompt list here!!

#sansan #ask #lemon

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