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Little Bird, Wild Wolf	By : Lempo Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire Views: 5923 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own a Song of Ice or Fire nor any of the characters written by George R.R. Martin. I do not make any monetary gain or profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Aflame
- 1
The words slipped from her mind as she felt the Hound tense up next to her. His breath quickened as her singing faltered and suddenly the room was filled with a deadly silence. In that single moment, the world stood still around them and even the faint cries of battle outside did not penetrate the tower room as Sansa sat there trembling, listening to his ragged breath as she held her own. Her heart pounded in her chest as the knife moved against her throat. But just as he expected to feel cold steel slicing through her skin, the hound dropped his head and sheathed his blade.
Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his scarred cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of blood, and further up a wetness that was not.
“Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. When he rose from the bed, Sansa brought her head forward and kissed his cheek.
She couldn’t comprehend why, but something stirred inside of her as she brushed his scars with her lips. “It’s okay,” she whispered, tasting the saltiness of his tears on her lips as he sat back in surprise.
“I’m not interested in your empty words, little bird.” He growled, closing his finger on her arm in an attempt to pull her away.
But as she pressed her lips onto his cheek a second time, she realized that his threatening behaviour did not frighten her any longer. More than that, she felt herself getting swept by a tingling sensation in her tummy as her lips brushed the wrinkled skin on his face. He’d ever tried to help me, she thought to herself, and her mind reeled as she saw it now. Everytime Joffrey or one of his lackies had hurt her, the Hound had been there, attempting to comfort her or soften the blow. And even now, he was willing to risk his life in helping her escape the city.
Her mind reeling, she trailed kisses towards his gasping mouth. But when her lips touched his, he grabbed her by the throat and stared into her eyes with a pained look on his face. Still, he is being gentle, she realized again as his fingers firmly held her in place, he tries to keep me at bay, but ever without hurting me. The sweet feeling in her tummy intensified as she met his angry stare and smiled gently.
“I don’t want your pity.” He rasped, but she could see there was doubt in his eyes.
“It’s not pity I’m offering.” She replied, pushing her head towards him. He needs me, she thought to herself, just like I need him. And to her surprise, he didn’t push her back as she edged closer.
“I don’t want your pity.” He repeated, just before her lips closed on his mouth.
“It’s not pity.” She whispered against his lips.
His hand shot into the nape of her neck as he opened his mouth to hers. Pulling her against him, his free hand tore open her dress. “More empty words.” He snarled as he jerked his head back drunkenly.
“No.” Sansa whimpered, smothering his face with kisses as she pulled his head toward her. “Only love.”
With that he grabbed her by the throat again, more forcefully this time. “Pretty little birds in castle towers don’t love the lowly dogs in the muck.”
She just smiled confidently and followed his eyes to the ripped dress, now brazenly exposing the swell of her breasts. He needs me, same as I need him, she realized, Not only for his sword nor his shield. Even if his words are foul, a reflection of his scarred face, his actions are true, and valiant, as a reflection of his soul, she told herself, How can I show him that his scars scare me no longer, nor his vicious growl. “I am no longer afraid of you!” She said finally.
The Hound merely shook his head with disbelief as she defiantly raised her chin ”Maybe I’m not the little bird you think me to be.” She stated as she leaned forward once more.
This time he didn’t stop her, or even pull back, but answered her kiss with barely constrained lust. Sansa yelped in surprise as he leaned forward and forced her down on the bed. And when he broke their kiss she was shocked by the pain in his eyes.
“So she’s a little bird no longer, and the wolf bitch truly wants to lay with the hound?” He grunted as his hands widened the rip in her dress, exposing her pale breasts further as he growled with lust. But before Sansa could answer he began to suckle her teat, and she threw her head back in delight. He’s been hurt deeply, as was I, she thought to herself as pleasure rippled through her nubile body, How can I make him see that I’m not simply enduring his caresses, however crude they may be, but rather more enjoying them. Suddenly all those years of ladylike constraint seemed laughable to her as she felt her body respond to those savage caresses.
When he finally released her from his mouth, Sansa looked up and saw him hovering over her with a determined look on his deformed face. Her mind still reeled from the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on her breasts, and she couldn’t bring herself to anything other than stare up, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. The dreadfulness of his scars became irrelevant all of a sudden.
“No more pretty words, ay?” He rasped. “Right! Guess there’s only one way to find out if the little bird’s not just singing her empty little words to me.”
She squealed in surprise as his hands shot between her legs and pulled up her dress. Don’t let him think I don’t want him, she thought to herself, Show him how much I need him. How much I want him. A new wave of excitement filled her as he loomed over her, watching her face closely as he tore aside her undergarment.
“The little bird is drenched.” The hound grunted with surprise as his fingers brushed against the wetness pooling between her unspoiled lips. Sansa looked up at him open mouthed as his fingertips slipped against her opening.
“Don’t call me a little bird.” She gasped as she pushed her hips up, feeling his calloused palm pressing against her drenched pubic hair. A sudden trembling rippled through her body as his fingers circled between her folds, “I think I rather prefer wolf bitch!.” She whispered.
“And then what? Wolf bitch!” He spat hoarsely with madness in his eyes, pulling his fingers out from between her legs and showing her the juices on his hand“You think this wet little wolf cunt of yours proves anything?”
He thinks it can’t be true, she realized, He thinks no woman could ever lust for him. Sansa felt her head spin as she saw the proof of her lust glistening on his fingers and realized that something inside her had changed indefinitely. Gone was the chaste little bird, repeating all those proper little words the Septa had filled her head with. I do lust for him, she thought to herself, the little bird is dead and a wolf bitch rises from her ashes. I am not at all like Jonquil, she chuckled as she met his eyes, I am like my aunt, Lyanna, wild, dangerous and filled with hunger.
With a growl she thrust her head out and began lapping her wetness from his hand. The Hound looked on in shock as she greedily suckled on his fingers, hungrily cleaning them one by one from her juices. Before long she dropped her head back with a wicked grin as her bare bosom heaved with excitement “Mayhaps the Hound ought to consider it his wet little wolf cunt?”
“Little wolf bitch!” The hound growled as he pounced on her like a hungry animal, filling her mouth with his tongue as his hand slid over her chest. Sansa growled in response and ran her fingers through his hair. He broke their kiss and trailed his mouth down her neck, licking and biting her as he surged towards her breasts.
“Your little wolf bitch!” Sansa gasped as once again his lips suckled at her teats while he forcefully pushed them together. The rough edges of his burned scars only added to the pleasure of his touch on her skin.
“My little wolf bitch!” The Hound agreed as he hungrily moved from one nipple to the other with his teeth.
“My big dirty Hound!” Sansa squealed with delight as his tongue swirled around her stiffened nipple.
“The bitch wouldn’t know dirty if it bit her in the arse.” The hound grunted as he ripped her dress further, opening a path from her quivering breasts down towards her creamy thighs. And with a wicked glint in his eye, he started to trail a path of wicked kisses down over her tummy.
“Perhaps you’d be so gallant as to show me then?” Sansa giggled as his tongue played over her belly button.
“Nothing gallant about sticking my tongue down your twat.” He answered hoarsely before pushing her legs apart as he moved down between them. He looked up at her for a moment as he gently pulled her folds apart with his thumbs. “Is it true, the Imp never-?” His voice trailed off as he brushed his thumbs up and down her opening.
She felt her head spin with excitement as his fingers opened her sex while he looked at her possesively. He wants me to be his, and only his, she realized, Just as I want him to be mine. Feeling her body being overcome by anticipation, Sansa struggled to keep her voice even as she answered him, “Tis true.”
No sooner had the words left her lips or his lips were pressed against her folds where he kissed her in the most carnal ways. Her head dropped back in bliss as a stab of pure ecstacy surged up from between her loins. She trashed her head from side to side as the Hound suckled at her, teasing her to open her legs wider as his tongue circled around her opening. The wet slopping sounds of his kisses filled the room as Sansa lay there, trembling with delight as his mouth worked wonders unknown between her virgin legs.
“Fuck!” The Hound panted as he looked up from between her legs. Sansa looked down at him gasping, feeling her body yearn desperately for the return of his mouth to her pulsing folds. “That wolf cunt tastes sweeter than honey.” He growled appreciatively before sliding his tongue back up between her swollen lips.
As he brushed the top of her opening, Sansa shivered violently as another lance of pure pleasure shot out through her pristine body.
“That’s your spot?” He grinned up at her before giving her another languid lick of his tongue.
“Oh gods, yes!” She exclaimed as her body convulsed in absolute delight.
“Look at that needy little virgin cunt.” The hound grunted as he took a moment to examine her pulsing sex.
“Do it again!” Sansa pleaded as she tried to lift her pelvis towards him.
“You really want it, do you?” He rasped, sliding his hands towards her quivering breasts.
“Gods yes!” She shivered in anticipation as his fingers found the end of her teats hard and ready.
“Maybe I’ll give it another taste then.” He answered as he rolled her nipples and brushed her sweet spot with his tongue once more.
“Don’t stop.” Sansa begged, feeling her core inflate with overwhelming pulses of sweet lust as his tongue touched her briefly.
The Hound merely growled as his mouth hungrily claimed her sex. It took only the slightest touches of his tongue over her sweet spot to bring her to a violent climax.
“Mother above, oh gods, oh gods, oh my..” She murmured as the hound clamped his mouth down over her pulsing sex and savagely swirled his tongue over that little nub between her folds.
“Fuck, fucking oh my gods. Don’t fucking stop!” Sansa cried out, shedding the last of her ladylike constraints as she cursed herself hoarse. No longer caring for the gilded cage her ancestry had forced upon her and now, finally allowing herself to just be. Tears flowed over her cheeks as she sobbed in relief, feeling herself being liberated both mentally and physically. Meanwhile the hound played her body like an instrument, releasing and increasing the intensity on her most intimate places as she rode wave after wave of pleasure more sweet than she had ever imagined.
When he finally released her from his mouth he crept up over her body and stared down with apprehension in his eyes.
“Still no longer repulsed by this ugly face?” He said with a tremor in his voice. Sansa shook her head and smiled sleepily as her hands cupped his disformed face.
“Not the slightest.” She answered as she kissed his soaked mouth, tasting herself on his lips.
“I know I’m not no knight of flowers-” He murmured, looking away as his voice trailed off.
“I think I’m pretty enough for the both of us.” Sansa grinned.
- 1
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Little Bird, Wild Wolf