Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/438226.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      kink_meme_fic, Female_Masturbation
  Series:
      Part 2 of Lemoncakes_and_Tea
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-19 Words: 1527
****** Idle Hands In the Night ******
by Mirime
Summary
     Kink meme fill. Sansa has a hot dream about Sandor and then relieves
     the tension when she wakes up.
Notes
     For a prompt at this_kink_meme (friending necessary): Sansa has
     dirty, thoroughly descriptive, coming-of-age dreams of Sandor after
     he rescues her from the riot. And she has to do something about it
     when she wakes up all hot and bothered :X
     This turned out more into a "virgin!Sansa experiments with herself"
     than I planned but I rolled with it anyway.
See the end of the work for more notes
She finds him in the training yard, beating down on his opponents mercilessly,
his size and skill overwhelming everyone present. She watches for a while in
amazement because even if she lacks Arya's fascination with fighting, she
thinks it strangely compelling, seeing that raw strength being unleashed.
She waits until she sees him leaving and follows at a distance until she is
sure they are alone. She's feeling strangely bashful all of a sudden but she
picks up her pace nonetheless and he stops and turns as he hears her approach.
"I have been looking for you, Ser," she starts saying only to be interrupted by
him.
"I am no Ser, little bird."
She fumbles for a response, blushing in embarrassment. She should have
remembered. He takes pity on her and steps closer, raising her chin so she is
looking at him.
"What was it you wanted from me, little bird?"
"To thank you, my lord," she replies and he doesn't chastise her this time so
she continues. "For saving me from those men. You were very brave."
"Was I?" he asks and he stands so close that she feels the warmth of his body
through the black armor he always wears, even though he's a member of the
Kingsguard and should wear the white. He towers over her, one of the tallest
men she has ever met but she feels safe with him. He has been good to her, not
like the others.
"You are the bravest man I have ever met," she declares sincerely, meeting his
eyes fearlessly. His face is turned away from her and she can only see the good
side of it and he looks quite attractive that way. She stands up on her tiptoes
and presses a kiss into his cheek. That is what ladies of the songs do for
their saviours, after all.
She doesn't cry out in alarm when he takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her
into him. She leans into his embrace and turns up her face and he kisses her
properly, his lips exerting a wonderful pressure on her own and she feels like
falling. And then she is falling for real, her back meeting the soft mattress
and she is in her bed, in her room and she doesn't find it strange at all.
His armour is gone when he leans over her, the scarred side of his face sliding
over her skin as he trails kisses down her neck and into the cleavage of her
dress, his big, strong hands cupping her still small breasts through the cloth.
She is squirming on the bed, her thighs rubbing together to ease some of the
ache until he pushes his knee between them and then even higher, pressing into
her and the ache ebbs only to build up even stronger.
He pushes the dress off her shoulders, baring her breasts to his hands and
mouth and she moans at the sensation. And then one of his hands smoothes down
her stomach and slips into her smallclothes, rubbing and pressing and teasing
and she closes her eyes and writhes under him, thinking that this can't
possibly get any better. And then it does.
"Is this what you wanted, little bird?" he rasps into her ear, his hands
touching her seemingly everywhere. "Or is there more? Do you want me to fuck
you, maybe?"
She arches her back at those crude words and opens her eyes only to find
herself alone in the room, her bed sheets disheveled, her clothing sweat-soaked
and no Hound in sight.
"A dream," Sansa breathed and fell back against her bed but then the dream
flashed before her eyes and she sat up, her heart beating ridiculously fast.
The room was dark, lit only by the waxing moon. It was still the deep of the
night but Sansa felt too awake to go back to sleep. Besides, the cooling sweat
made her feel uncomfortable. As did the ache in between her legs, the very same
one she had felt in the dream. Sansa flushed even though no one was there to
see.
Why would she have such a strange dream? And stranger yet, why wouldn't the
feeling go away upon awakening? Still feeling hot, Sansa pulled away her covers
to let the night air touch her skin to chill her. The fabric of her nightdress
was pulled tightly across her chest and she could see two small protrusions
sticking out. Peeling the light cotton away, she could see that her nipples
were standing out much more than usual. Curiously, Sansa ran one hand down her
body the same way the Hound had done in the dream. When she brushed her nipple,
a short bolt of... something shot down in between her legs, making the ache
much worse.
Sansa bit her lip. She had touched herself down there before, mostly to satisfy
her own curiousity about her body but she had never carried on beyond a couple
of fumbling caresses, growing embarrassed quickly, knowing that a lady wasn't
supposed to do such things. But the dream wouldn't leave her mind and she
wanted to see if her fingers compared to his. His fingers in the dream that
was, because she knew that the Hound touching her like that for real was out of
the question. Not that she wanted him touching her, she added quickly in her
mind. Even though it would be better than Joffrey putting his hands on her. She
would take the Hound over Joffrey anytime.
That strange achey feeling was spreading into her tummy and Sansa instinctively
knew that unless she did something about it, a sleep would be long in coming.
She worried at her lip but finally decided that she would try and please
herself. Sure, it wasn't ladylike but maybe she didn't want to be a lady
anymore, for a while at least.
Recalling the dream, Sansa took a hold of her right breast and squeezed
lightly. It felt pleasant enough and so she repeated the motion, her fingers
spreading and she brushed her nipple, this time welcoming the tingling that
accompanied the gesture. While her left hand was tending to her breast, she
moved her right one down under her smallclothes. Brushing the growing hairs,
she hesitated for a moment but then pressed her hand resolutely down, letting
out a shaky breath at the pleasurable feeling it caused.
Emboldened by the sensation, she spread her legs more, her fingers groping
around blindly. She could feel a weird slickness gathering around them and for
a moment she embarassedly thought that somehow she had wetted herself. But that
thought disappeared quickly when her hand passed over the beginning of her slit
and found a small, firm bump there. Touching it made all of those feelings she
had been experiencing up til then much more intense.
Her curiousity burning now, Sansa started to experiment with ways to touch
herself down there, noting how her body reacted. She could feel herself flush,
her skin perspirating, her muscles giving involuntary twitches as her breath
grew short and ragged. Her thin nightgown was rubbing against her nipples as
she writhed on her bed, the feeling pleasurable but secondary to the sensations
that her fingers wrought in between her legs. But something was still missing.
Closing her eyes, Sansa imagined it was the Hound touching her, like he had in
her dream and was surprised at the welling up of pleasure the thought brought.
A quiet moan escaped her lips and Sansa quickly brought up her left hand to her
mouth, biting down lightly to keep herself quiet. She didn't open her eyes,
though, nor did she stop moving her fingers against herself, discovering the
stroking motion that fed the burning in her body.
Sansa could feel her muscles growing taut, her back arching off the bed as
something built up within her and she stroked herself faster, turning on her
side and clamping her thighs around her hand. She whimpered in need, knowing
that she was close to something wonderful, all she needed was a little push to
reach it. Just a little more.
"What a needy little bird," the imaginary Hound's voice rasped and Sansa cried
out as pleasure bloomed in her body, spreading from where her hand was touching
to every part of her. She was shuddering, her breathing laboured as she gave
herself over to the sensations pulsing through her body, keeping her eyes
closed while it lasted. The wetness between her legs soaked through her small
clothes but she didn't mind, her mind still hazy from her experience.
Sansa rolled lazily on her back, stretching out and smiling. That was nice.
More than nice, if she was honest with herself and she wondered why such a
thing would be considered unladylike until she looked herself over, her bed and
clothing in disarray and Sansa didn't even want to imagine what her hair must
have looked like. She didn't look like a lady at all. But remembering the
previous moments and all of the feelings they brought, she decided that she
didn't mind not being a lady sometimes.
End Notes
     It seems I am going to spam the archives with SanSan smut. You don't
     mind, do you?
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