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The Hounds Choice

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Arya had found him with Beric Dondarrion, drinking up on the castle wall. Waiting to fight the dead, waiting to die. Burying himself in misery in the meantime. She could only listen to them drone on for so long before interrupting.

“I need a moment with Clegane.” She announced coming into view from the shadows.

“Is the little wolf getting nervous before the big battle?” Sandor rasped from his spot on the icy stone ground.

Ignoring him, she turned to the one-eyed man. “Dondarrion, would you mind leaving us?”

“Of course, my Lady, Clegane.” He bowed his head a fraction and stalked off.

“What is it girl?” He shifted around on the ground, taking a long pull from his almost empty wineskin.

“Why are you up here wallowing?”

“I’m also getting drunk, don’t forget that.”

“Why aren’t you bedding a woman? Could be your last night on earth.”

He laughed, full bodied. “A cruel woman you are, I see” he finished off his drink, tossing the skin over the wall. “Perhaps I don’t want to force some poor wench to endure me on HER last night on earth.”

“It doesn’t have to be forced you know.”

Becoming agitated, Sandor grumbled angrily. “The fuck are you on about girl? I’m not in the mood, spit out what’s on your mind.”

“I don’t want to die a maiden.”

“Nor should you. Go find the blacksmith boy, he’ll get the job done.”

“Not the way I’d want it to be done.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He was rapidly losing what little patience he’d started with.

“He’d treat me like a lady. Be gentle and...soft. I don’t want that.” She said matter of fact.

“If you want to be treated like some whore then just tell him. He will treat you as such, as long as he gets his dick wet, I assure you.”

“I don’t want him. He’s just a friend, nothing more.” She huffed. Her fists opening and closing in frustration.

He looked at her hard. Standing to his full height he kept glaring at her. “You have thirty seconds to spit it out girl.”

She stared straight at him, her voice sure and steady. “I want you to take me. To fuck me as you would any other women. I don’t want to be treated special, like some bloody lady.”

“Fat fucking chance.” He said without missing a beat.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Why?”

“You are a child. An annoying one at that.”

“I am fully grown and more than willing to prove it.”

“Not happening.” He went to walk past her but her hand on his arm stopped him short.

“Why?” She demanded more forcefully.

“You’re not my type.”

“Then close your eyes. A cunts a cunt, right? That’s what I’ve heard plenty of men say around the yard.”

“Yes well, I’m still not interested in yours.”

“Why? Because I don’t have red hair?” She challenged.

His eyes shot warning daggers. “Shut your mouth girl.”

“You can call me by her name if you want.”

“If you don’t shut that mouth of yours, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll bear my print on your face for life.”

“Do it then. Take it out on me if you want. All the years of pent up frustration. You said you wanted to fuck her bloody. Well, fuck me bloody instead and pretend it was her.”

He slapped her then. Hard across the right cheek. Her hand shot up to cover the stinging flesh. She smiled, red staining her teeth from her lip splitting open.

“There you go.” She took a step towards him, her eyes dangerous. “Am I getting your blood up?”

“You’re making me want to kill you, not fuck you.”

“It’s a fine line, don’t you think. Whenever I kill a man, I want to fuck anything walking. Do you not get the same way?”

“Aye, but it’s best not to confuse the two feelings though. It will get you in trouble one day.”

“Speaking from experience? Did the big bad Hound get himself in trouble with a fair maiden perhaps?” She swayed her hips back and forth.

“You’ve gone quite mad, girl.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious? I bet it’d feel amazing, don’t you think?” She looked his body up and down, predatory.

“No.” He turned his back to her to walk off again.

She dropped the flirtatious attitude. “She’ll never have you, you know that, right?”

He stopped. Shoulders slumping, he breathed out heavily.

“Never in a million years will she let your dirty old hands near her.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He hissed out through clenched teeth.

“And yet you’re still in love with her, still pine away for her, like some love-sick puppy. Denying yourself a willing woman!” She scoffed. “Her blood runs in mine. We are one of the same.”

He spun around, eyes flashing with anger. “You are nothing like her!”

“And you are nothing like the kind of man she wants, that she’d ever want! But you, Sandor Clegane, are the kind of man I want.”

“You couldn’t handle me, girl, even if I did want to. Just give it a rest.”

“I’m not some fragile little lady, I can handle whatever you give me.” She refused to back down.

He turned to face her. His face full of menace. “No.”

She shoved him with all her might. “I’m that ugly, huh? Not even the hound will fuck me?”

“Girl.” He growled. Looking down and snatching her wrist, he shook his head, tired of this fight. “That’s not it at all, you’re not ugly. We just can’t.”

She pleaded with him now. Her eyes sorrow filled saucers. “We might die tomorrow. We’ll probably die tomorrow. Please?”

They looked upon one another, her face begging him. His morphed from sympathetic to anguish.

“Fuck you!” He shouted at her with a burst of energy as he pushed her away. His breathing sped up. “Why does it have to be me? Why? It’s not right.”

“When has anything about either of us been right, Sandor?” Her neck craned up at him as she came closer, her eyes pleading with him.

A calm settled over him then. He would die tomorrow and end up within the seven hells no matter his choices tonight.

He grasped the back of her head, yanking it hard. “If you say stop, I’ll stop. But if you don’t, I will not show you any mercy.” He warned.

She smiled in triumph. “I didn’t show you mercy. So why should I expect it from you.”

“Undo your belt and turn around. Hands on the wall.” He instructed defeated.

She did just as he asked while he unlaced himself. Bringing his soft member out, tugging at it a dozen or so time before it began to harden. He brought his body closer, letting his cock rest against her clothed back.

Bending over her, his much larger body encased hers. One hand rested on top of the stone wall, he spread his legs a little wider. Coating his fingers with the spit from his mouth, he shoved them into the front of her breeches without warning. She gasped at the sudden intimate contact.

He started rubbing circles around her clit, dipping in and out of her heat, probing at her virginal opening until he felt the tell tale signs.

“You’re getting wet, girl.” He rasped next to her ear. “Like some common whore.”

“More. I want more.” She quivered with her eyes closed. His finger pushed its way deeper into her, teasing. Pushing two fingers in now, he worked on widening her entrance to accommodate him. “Please. Do it.”

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he easily lifted her tiny body against his hip. His other hand grasped his cock and lined himself up. “Hold onto the top of the wall.”

Once the tip of his cock had entered her, he placed both hands on her hips, securing her body from falling. Slowly pulling her down onto the length of his shaft, he felt her maidenhead tear away and her body tense.

Arya winced at the sting, sucking in a sharp breath and holding it until the pain eased.

After a short moment Sandor continued pulling her hips down until she completely swallowed him whole. They simultaneously groaned out in pleasure and relief.

His hips retreated, pulling almost completely out before thrusting back up into her. He quickly formed a rhythm of snapping his hips up and forcing her body down at the same time. Over and over. It didn’t take long for her to become a whimpering mess, hands scrambling for stone as he sped up his movements.

He snaked a hand up her chest and around her throat. His other arm secured tightly around her waist, giving her shallow hard thrusts. He squeezed around her throat and her entire body convulsed, her cunt clamping down and fluttering around his shaft as she moaned out through her climax.

“That’s right.” He pumped frantically into her about to lose his control. “Try and milk my cock you little whore.” His hand released her neck and traveled up, fingers entering her mouth, pulling it open. She drooled down his digits. “Should I cum inside you? Watch my seed drip down your leg and lick it all up, like the good fucking dog I am?”

She couldn’t say anything with her jaw forced open. All she could do was wimper and moan.

“Do you want to cum again? I don’t know if I should let you. You haven’t been a very good girl, forcing my hand, begging me to soil you. Maybe I should take you off my cock and spank you instead?”

She whined out louder this time as he continued on with lazy thrusts into her swollen cunt.

“I bet you’d like it. My hand on your ass, beating it red.” He laughed breathlessly and taunted her. “Make it red like your pretty sister, huh? Now I’ll have to fuck her and compare notes. Perhaps I’ll take her while she sleeps. Sneak into her room, force her legs open and shove my cock up her cunt.” He groaned. “Hell of a way to wake up, don’t you think?”

She cried out in displeasure, wiggling against him.

He hummed a chuckle and his thrusts got harder again. “Do you wish I do that to you, little wolf? Sneak in and take you? Naked in your bed, wet and writhing underneath me. Maybe I’d stick my cock in your mouth, maybe next time you’d shut it properly and not get yourself fucked by dog. Learn a fucking lesson.”

He grabbed both hips again, slamming her down hard as he rutted up. Bruising her for sure. He pushed her fully against the wall as her short legs dangled in the air between them. Impaled on his cock, helpless, he pounded her into the wall. His hand grasped her hair and yanked her neck back uncomfortablely as he sputtered his release into her and let out a primal growl of satisfaction.

His knees gave out and they fell to the cold ground in a heaping mess of limbs. She clambered off each other, pulling up her breeches, the white sticky mess soaking itself into the fabric. After he caught his breath he collected himself back into his own breeches. They sat there in silence, content in the after effects of their release.

“If we live, I want to do that again.” Arya panted.

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“I only gave in because we probably will in fact die and my last fuck was too long ago.”

“Did you like it.”

“Does it really matter?”

“I wanna know. Was I bad?”

“I didn’t realize by agreeing to this, I was agreeing to be tortured afterwards.” He muttered looking away.

“Just answer the question.”

“It was fine.” He conceded.

“Then we’ll work on technique if we survive.”

“It’s not fucking swordsmanship and I’m not fucking you again. You didn’t want to die a maid and now you won’t. We’re done here.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Did I claim to be some gallant knight? I don’t think so.” He sighed and stood up, fixing his clothing, speaking softly. “Listen to me. You don’t want me, not truly. I do care for you, as one cares for a little sister or Gods help me a fucking daughter. I can’t be your bed warmer, I told you, it’s just not right.”

“You’re not my father.”

“Aye. He’s long dead and perhaps you’ve needed his guidance and perhaps I’ve been the one to offer you just that during our time together. I may not be your father, but I may also be the closest thing you’ve got to one.”

“Fine. I’ll find somebody else if you can’t get over yourself.”

“Good.” He started to walk away, but turned halfway to the turret. “And if by some miracle we survive, give the blacksmith a gods damned chance. He’s a good man. A bit of a whiner, but he’ll be good to you.”

“This fatherly act is going to get real old, real fast.” She rolled eyes.

“Try not to get yourself killed.” He turned away again to leave.

“Yeah. You too.”

 

They never heard or saw Sansa hidden in the shadows of the turret. Listening. Watching.