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The feast to celebrate the defeat of the wight army also became, much to the surprise of many of the guests, a wedding feast for Sandor Clegane and Lady Sansa Stark.

Although surprised by the hastily put together wedding, most of the guests could admit that the new couple seemed happy as they sat at the raised table on the dais with the remaining Stark family.

When some drunken guests began to call for a bedding, other more sober guests laughed in amusement as Clegane scowled and led Sansa hastily out of the room.

* * * * *

Sandor stalked down the corridor, Sansa trying to match his stride.

"Sandor, please, slow down!" Sansa exclaimed unable to stop a few giggles from escaping.

Sandor slowed his pace and turned toward Sansa as they walked more slowly toward their new rooms. "Had to get you away from there. Those drunken bastards, thinking they were going to get their hands on you."

Sansa smiled, snuggling against Sandor's arm. She knew some people would question her marriage to this man, infamously known as "The Hound." But, they didn't know him as she did. This side of him was just for her.

Reaching their chambers, Sandor twisted the knob, opening the door. He ushered Sansa in, a hand on the small of her back.

Sansa turned at the sound of the door closing and locking behind them to find Sandor inches away, towering over her. Sansa gasped in excitement as Sandor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her toward him.

A thrill raced through Sansa as he whispered heatedly in her ear, "I've waited so long for you, woman. I'm not sharing this time with anyone else."

With that, Sandor's hard mouth captured Sansa's in a demanding kiss.

* * * * *

As Sandor greedily claimed Sansa's mouth for his own, he was glad to hear her moan against his mouth. He didn't want to scare her, but damn was he eager for her.

Sandor was surprised, but gladdened, when she participated in the kiss, reaching up on the tips of her toes, to slide her hands across his broad chest and up to his shoulders.

Sandor groaned and stooped down, lifting Sansa into his arms and carrying her over to the bed, already turned down and waiting for them. Laying her gently across the mattress, Sandor followed Sansa down, bracing himself over her.

Feeling her pulling at his shirt, Sandor was glad to note that Sansa seemed to be as eager for him as he was for her. Sandor chuckled, his lips still pressed to hers, and swatted her hands away.

“I want to undress you first,” Sandor rasped against her lips.

Sandor climbed off the bed, helping Sansa up and together they worked on removing her dress. Finally, largely through Sansa's efforts (Sandor often alternating between eagerness and frustration), the dress pooled on the floor at her feet.

Sandor once more lifted Sansa into his arms and laid her down on their bed.

Sandor's lips pressed roughly against Sansa's in a demanding kiss as his hand slid up her waist to the neckline of her chemise. Tugging her chemise down her shoulder, he exposed one lush breast to his gaze. Sandor groaned, bending over to capture the dusky pink bud into his hot mouth.

Sandor chuckled as Sansa cried out as his tongue circled her nipple, lapping firmly at the tight bud. Their gazes locked, he watched her eyes flutter shut as he suckled at her breast, while squeezing the other, still covered by her thin chemise, in his rough palm.

Wanting more, needing more, Sandor reared up on his knees, one on either side of her hips, and tugged at the chemise guarding most of Sansa from his view. He began working on the little buttons, but was soon impatiently ripping the chemise open straight to the hemline, buttons flying across the room.

Sansa gasped and grabbed the torn fabric, trying to pull it back together.

Sandor looked down at Sansa, registering in his lust-clouded mind that while Sansa wanted to be here him, she was still an innocent and that this was all new to her.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. You know I won’t hurt you, right?” Sandor settled beside her on the bed, trying to put her at ease.

“I know that,” Sansa replied. “You didn’t scare me.”

Sandor was confused. “What’s wrong then? You looked upset.”

Sansa looked accusingly at Sandor. “Of course, I’m upset! This was my favorite chemise and you just ruined it.”

Sandor started at her in surprise for a moment before throwing his head back, roaring with laughter.

Sansa looked questioningly at him. It truly surprised him how unafraid of him she was. He would never hurt her, but her lack of fear was still unfamiliar to him. Everyone had always feared him, whether warranted or not.

Sandor shook his head in wonder, before leaning over her, kissing her once more.

Sandor tossed the remnants of the chemise over the side of the bed and cupped her ass in his large hands, pulling her against him, eliciting a moan from her as his hard cock strained insistently against her hip.

He felt Sansa tugging once again at his shirt and he helped her by whipping it quickly over his head. (Sandor would later be amused to know that Sansa had tried tearing his shirt as he had torn her chemise, but where he had succeeded, she had sadly failed.) His britches soon followed as he kicked them down his legs to land in a ball at the foot of the bed.

Now both completely naked, Sandor shifted his body so that he was lying fully across her. His knee slipped between her legs and pushed them apart.

Sansa opened her legs wide, eagerly allowing Sandor’s hips to nestle between her legs, his cock straining between them.

Sandor slide his arm behind Sansa, arcing her back, so that her tits stood proud before them, offering themselves up to Sandor’s mouth. Leaning down, Sandor buried his face between them, before turning his head to one side to rain kisses from one nipple to the other. He repeated the path his lips had taken, this time with his tongue.

Sandor latched onto one nipple, sucking hard as Sansa gasped and moaned. Sandor trailed one hand, tickling her lightly as he went, down her stomach to her cunt. Sliding one finger between her cunt’s lips, Sandor grunted in satisfaction to feel Sansa’s soaking wet cunt.

Sansa cried out, clutching at Sandor’s shoulders.

Sandor swirled his finger across her clit a few times before withdrawing his finger from her, smiling to himself when he heard Sansa cry out in dismay.

With the hand slick from her juices, Sandor grasped his thick, long cock jerking it roughly a few times. Satisfied that he was ready now, he brought the large, blunt tip of himself to line up with Sansa’s wet cunt, grazing and teasing her silky entrance.

“Are you ready, Sansa?” Sandor whispered, looking down at her.

She met his gaze, and nodded.

Sandor’s mouth claimed Sansa’s is a slow, drugging kiss as his cock pushed into Sansa's body, claiming her as his. Finally.

Sandor felt Sansa gasp against his mouth as his cock breached her maidenhead, soon filling her full to bursting.

Sandor held still, waiting a few moments for Sansa’s body to adjust. When at last he felt her body begin to relax, he needed only to glance at the wondrous look on Sansa’s face to know that she was ready to continue. Sandor began moving slowly, then more quickly, as he thrust in and out of her wet cunt. She was so tight, it felt so bloody good. She was truly his now. It was only fair, he had been hers all these years, even when they had been separated.

Sansa’s hands slide and clenched down his back, her nails raking across the broad plane of his back as she soon found and screamed out her release. In response, Sandor sped up, the headboard slamming against the wall above them with each thrust. (It would later need to be repaired, much to Sandor's amusement, Sansa's embarrassment, Arya's disgust, and Jon's outrage.) He thrusted hard and quick, just as he liked it, for several moments until he exploded into her, his seed filling her.

Sandor collapsed beside Sansa on the bed, drawing her across his chest. Sansa sighed softly. Sandor smiled to himself, wrapping his arm firmly around Sansa’s naked body.

They drifted off to sleep with contented smiles on their faces.

Together. Finally.