He'd married her straight away. Stannis had observed her through the day as he and his adopted son forced the small group to await the king's summons--his summons--and she would be his. Just as the foundling infant had become his child, when his wife had failed for so many years to bear anything but blood, he felt viscerally drawn to Lady Sansa. It was similar also to how possessive he felt over the daughter his wife had died to give him--despite her illnesses Shireen was his blood in ways that the handsome Loras would never be.
A marriage would tie him to Lady Sansa willingly, as he'd willingly taken in the infant child that had grown into his handsome son, and it would make her of his blood as Shireen was. Her eyes, blue as the sea on a calm day and hair as red as the bullish stag that he'd trapped with blood magic decades ago, haunted him through the first night she stayed at the castle. Loras commented on how beautiful he found her but Stannis swiftly curtailed the boy's desires--as Stannis' heir, Loras had to wed according to his station.
Such a foundling woman as Lady Sansa was not suitable for a prince--though a foundling himself in truth.
Lady Sansa had seemed bemused at the experience of a wedding and been more surprised than anything when he demanded she disrobe in his chamber afterwards. Those blue eyes had him hard and wanting and she had not begun moving fast enough before he walked stiffly to her--his kiss bruising both of them as he walked her backwards to the bed. She was his--his--his--
Her whimper when he bit and sucked at her neck left Stannis cursing under his breath the clothing that the peasant girl Arya had contrived to cover his bride with. Outside of their chamber, outside of the towers of his castle, the wolves in the storm howled and snarled as they thought to escape the clouds the red stag had driven them to--but these sounds Stannis did not hear as he did away with his wife's smallclothes and pushed a finger into her, groaning as his cock jumped at the same moment.
She was tight--and not nearly wet enough to enjoy him. And she would enjoy him he decided, gentling his kisses for a moment and returning to her mouth. He had her panting soon, rubbing circles at her clit and working another finger into her--he moved back to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her flesh and feeling her whines rather than just hearing them, and he bit her when she started to orgasm. Lady Sansa's back arched and she howled as he didn't let up--the sounds of his fingers in her cunt were beautifully vulgar in their counterpoint to her cries.
"You are mine," he said into her ear, pushing his fingers into her and curling them--pulling and relishing in the full-body spasm he got in return for it.
"Just like my right as king, my son, my daughter," he worked a third finger into her and pushed down his thumb on her clit, his little wife moaning and begging with half-words, "my hounds. That's what you are isn't it? I hear it, you know," he hissed, easing his thumb into gentle circles that had her whimpering again, her whines so high that they barely made a sound, "my wolf girl. The last, the one I couldn't find--the bitch the stag couldn't mount."
"I--I'm not--my king, I," she tried to say, shaking her head wildly as he started pushing and pulling his fingers in her sex. She climaxed again, shaking and arching towards him.
"You might have forgotten through the magic but," he said as he let her relax, reveling in her panted breaths, "I know. I see it in your eyes, in the way you move. I thought I had all of the white wolves of the north, but I never felt complete. No matter their singing around the tower, a voice was missing. I knew it. But you are mine now, and we shall be at peace."
Then Stannis let her rest for a time, leaving his fingers buried in her still but no longer torturing her with them. There were so few people close to the castle that producing a bedding sheet was of no pressing consequence, and he knew it would not be easy to keep his head if he pushed his cock into her so soon after getting drunk on the sounds she made.
"You were rough with me," she said when he started to move his fingers in her again, putting her hands at his wrist to stop him. Stannis looked into her eyes, wanting to shake her off but she froze him in place. Though she was alone she was still a wolf, and he still a deer no matter his crown. Sansa did not take her eyes from his as she changed her grip on his hand and shifted her hips a little--and Stannis nearly spent himself in his breeches as she pulled his fingers from her sex only to push them back in, using him for her pleasure.
It took longer this time for her to peak but he got to watch her flush, the color spreading from her face down her neck and chest, and the sounds she made were heavenly and they were his. Her eyes stayed on him until nearly the end when they slipped closed and her grip on his hand tightened as she worked herself harder using his curled fingers.
They lay in silence after she finished herself, her on her back and he on his side next to her. Watching her Stannis debated on how he wanted to take her. On her back with her knees bent over his shoulders? Like the wolf-bitch she was, on her hands and knees? Would she ride him, still in her dress and tortured by the touch of it as he filled her? That was certainly appealing enough he decided as he dragged himself up and undressed. Her dress laced up the front and he could free her breasts but nothing else. The cold of the room and the warmth of her dress would add their own conflicting pleasures on her.
"You'll straddle me, hold up your dress," he rumbled as he fell heavily back to the bed. His wife was slow to comply but he allowed her time now, knowing he'd well exhausted her. It had been exquisite to pull those noises from her, it made him feel forgiving. Gods--even her sex was covered in red curls, curls that were damp against his cock as he teased her just once before lining himself up with her with one hand and pulling her down onto him with the other. She was gloriously hot around him and Stannis groaned out a series of curses as he guided her into riding his cock.
The sounds this time were muffled by her dress but Stannis couldn't find it in himself to mind as he plucked open the ties of her bodice and palmed one of her teats. He could feel her heart racing, his thumb resting below her breast where her pulse throbbed madly. Sansa was the last--and she was his. Even if the magic that made her human closed her womb and she never bore a child she was his. The thought rocketed straight to his sac, tightening it painfully and all too soon he spent himself.
His wife's shoulders slumped and she swayed over him, twitching when he put his hand under her skirts and rubbing her to one last peak before letting her fall to his chest. Outside the storm that he'd purposefully engulfed his castle in howled and shrieked--the pack of wolves beautiful in their song now that he held one of their own in his arms.
Stannis stared at her until the candles had nearly burned out, dozing off in the wee hours. He must have dreamed of her sweet little voice grumbling that she'd never thought to have such a grumpy alpha when she was young.