The Hound, a notoriously impervious man, was worried. The little bird had been acting odd lately.
He tried to recall when it had started. He pondered for a moment, counting back in his head and then paused as a thought occurred to him. Aye, her behavior had changed in the days since she had gotten her moonblood. But not in the way he would have expected. She no longer seemed at all frightened as she had initially, when he had discovered her in hysterics, desperately trying to hide the evidence of her flowering.
No, she seemed like a different girl altogether. And he, whose eyes always secretly tracked and studied her, was the one person who would notice even a subtle change in her behavior.
Changes, such as…instead of nibbling at her meals as she normally did, she now ate ravenously, falling on her meals not unlike a soldier at his mess after a long campaign. Even more unsettling, at such times, she seemed unaware of the courtside stares and titters. On one occasion even Joffrey, typically self-absorbed and oblivious, scoffed disdainfully at her, likening her behavior to that of a starved dog. She had whipped her head up, cocked to the side, confused for a moment before she returned to herself, momentarily red-faced and embarrassed. She was able to curtail her strange behavior for a while, but he noted she later ferociously attacked her evening meal.
And as if that were not disturbing enough, just now, he could have sworn she had been sneaking sniffs of his arm as he escorted her to her chambers. Aye! She had just done it again at her door…
And as he turned away, he could have sworn he saw a silver glint in her eyes.
A look of hunger.
Sansa knew on some level that she was not herself since the arrival of her moonblood. There was the initial shock of seeing the blood and subsequent fear of reprisal, but she had stoically accepted the degradations offered by Cersei and her golden monster. That, of course, was to be expected.
No, she disturbed by something else. Such as the other physical changes she was experiencing.
For one thing, she began noticing that she was uncomfortably hot…It was as if she had an internal furnace which bubbled up and out from her core. And then there was the gnawing hunger in her gut, and despite the deeply ingrained teachings by her mother and septa of a proper lady’s behavior, she just could not stop herself around food. Everything smelled and tasted so very good…
And now, after dinner, when Sandor had escorted her to her room, she noticed how…delicious he smelled. Strong, dominant, masculine. And underneath it all, was a maddening scent.
She had just entered her room when the latter thought drifted through her mind. She turned to look at him, trembling with lust.
When she caught his eye, she noticed his expression of shocked intrigue, and she knew on some primal level he could read her thoughts.
She smiled at him and licked her lips.
Eyebrow raised, he had turned and quickly walked away.
Later that night
The full moon, huge and luminous, beamed straight through Sansa’s chamber windows, bright enough to light up her entire room.
She tossed and turned on her bed, long since having thrown her covers to the floor. As she writhed on the mattress, a confusing chorus of howls echoed through her mind. The cry of a wolf pack called out to her, compelling her...
She cried out in pain. She was burning alive, her hair drenched and clinging uncomfortably down her neck and back. Her shift, now near transparent and sticking to her skin, was driving her to distraction. She clutched and tore at the fabric, hardly aware of the delicate cloth shredding beneath her sharp nails.
Finally freed from the confines of clothing and possessed by an unknown well of strength, she leapt up and squatted on all fours, head swaying side to side. Her head tilted up and she tested the air with her nose, searching…
Like an arrow loosed from a bow, she bounded out of her room, driven to find what she was so desperately needing while instinctively remaining unseen. Always keeping to the shadows and hidden hallway alcoves…
Running, running, driven by the heat burning her from the inside out, propelling her onward, faster, faster, finally, jumping, up and out…with only one conscious thought in her frenzied mind.
Sandor returned to his room after escorting the little bird to her chambers. He stripped off his Kingsguard shite, and then sat heavily at his lone chair to remove his boots. He grabbed the wineskin he had left on his table and took a heavy draught while he mused, his thoughts straying to the red-haired beauty’s bizarre behavior, of the expression on her face as he had turned away.
It was not the face of an innocent maid, not of a little bird.
Unbidden, a thought popped into his mind.
No, not a little bird.
He had just blown out his lone candle and slipped into bed when he had the eerie feeling of someone…or something watching him.
He heard her before he saw her. A low, guttural, but somehow feminine growl which caused a shudder that resonated deep within him.
He sat up quickly, pushing his legs to the edge of his bed. Although darkened in shadows, the moon limned her body in silver. He knew instinctively it was her. The little bird. Crouching…Naked in his window.
He stared, wide-eyed. Her hair was matted and wild, arms hanging low and fingers clenching and unclenching in time with her breathless pants. Goose pimples erupted on his flesh when he beheld the predatory and completely alien expression on her face.
Aside from his obvious shock at her appearance, he was dumbfounded about how in the fucking seven hells she was able to navigate the outer wall to his window. A window that she had somehow opened from the outside, with no ledge to have even stood upon? She sure as hell didn’t scale down with a rope for fucks sake!
“Sansa? What in—“ he began, but was cut off when she pounced on him, landing with her thighs straddling his hips, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. She then roughly pushed him down on the bed.
Sandor Clegane had never been so stunned in all of his life, and the man had seen many a shocking sight. In fact, he was briefly paralyzed as the little bird snuffled and nipped at his neck, all the while alternating between frustrated growls and keening whines. He couldn’t control his shivers, nor his fast hardening cock, as she began rocking furiously against his groin.
However, the spell was broken when she raised up and with one quick swipe, tore his breeches from his hips.
He looked down in shock at her fingernails, which had grown long and curved. He reached up and held her face in his hands. She fought him momentarily, and he was barely able to hold her head still. Holy hell, but she was strong! And, Stranger take him, her eyes were glowing again. Then, she bared her teeth at him, which were bizarrely sharp…By the Seven, what in the fuck was happening?
He mentally scrambled for answers but then, in one violent thrust, she impaled herself on his length, and all coherent thought fled from his mind.
She stopped momentarily, letting out a victorious sound, halfway between a howl and moan, but then began rutting on him while running her nails down his chest, leaving thin red trails in their wake.
Sandor groaned as he watched her ride him, her sweat soaked breasts bouncing in a most erotic manner. Despite his shock, he sat up, grabbing her teat with one hand, and a handful of sweat-soaked hair in the other. He yanked her head back and growled in her ear, “Just what in the fuck do you think you’re doing, little one? Hmm?”
She whimpered and licked his face while raking her nails down his back. Then, without warning, she bit his neck, right at the juncture of his shoulder, deep enough to draw blood.
He shivered as his eyes rolled back in his head, his cock pulsing as her cunt gripped with inhuman strength. So Sansa wanted it rough eh? Well, he’d show her who was in control by the gods!
He lifted her up and off his cock and pushed her down on all fours, immediately resheathing himself up to the hilt.
She moaned in approval as he gripped her hips in his massive hands and began setting a punishing pace. All too soon, he felt his balls tightening as he brought himself to a quick release. He attempted to pull out but she turned her head and growled, reaching up behind her to lock his sac in her grip.
Groaning in agonized bliss, he shot his seed deep in her core, at the same time he could feel her channel milking every drop from him. He fell heavily on top of her, though was coherent enough to catch himself with his hands. She squirmed and was able to somehow twist in his arms, letting out happy sounding whimpers, not unlike that of a sated canine.
Sandor shook his head, the surreal nature of the entire scenario hitting him like a hammer. Had what he thought happen really just happen?
Aye, the the deed was done. He had actually fucked Sansa Stark. Well, to be fair, she had forced the issue a bit, hadn’t she?
He sighed and ran a hand down his face, but then winced as he drew upon the bite at the base of his neck. He gingerly looked at his fingers, which were lightly covered in his blood.
He glanced down at his attacker, who was now lightly snoring as she lay snuggled into his chest. He noticed that her hand was curled around his arm, and her fingernails once again seemed a normal length.
He shrugged internally. He’d deal with the consequences later, he supposed, but now, he felt strangely exhausted. He decided he’d rest his eyes, just for a moment…
Sandor awoke as soon as dawn’s light filtered through his open window.
He startled, realizing why the window was left open. The little bird!
He sat up, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings, but there was no sign of her. As he glanced down at his bedding, he saw that was not completely true, as there was traces of blood staining the sheets. He grunted, knowing that it was likely both from her maidenhead and from his neck wound, which he suddenly realized was quite warm to the touch. He reckoned it might be sign of the start of an infection, but right now he had other matters to attend to. He’d have to find her, to make sure she was safe…
After finding her chambers empty, he began frantically searching for her, only to later discover her at breakfast with the other nobles.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her, dressed in her finest silks, hair styled and coiffed, as she daintily ate her meal, once again a refined lady.
What the fuck?
He cleared his throat, which caused her to raise her head. She met his gaze with calmness, and had it not been for his experience last night, he would have missed it:
Her eyes glowed for the briefest of moments.
His breath caught and heart quickened.
She smiled a small, secretive smile at him and then lowered her eyes again as she resumed her meal…