Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/472624.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane
  Additional Tags:
      Frottage
  Collections:
      Game_of_Thrones:_Sansa/Sandor
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-29 Words: 655
****** The Way You Say Thank You ******
by TigerOfSummer
Summary
     Sandor engages in frottage with Sansa.
Sansa hugged herself, suddenly cold. “Why are you always so hateful? I was
thanking you . . .”

“Just as if I was one of those true knights you love so well, yes.” He grabbed
her arm suddenly, pulling her closer to where he was sitting. The light of the
setting sun in the smoke filled sky shone on his marred face, looking up at
her. She didn’t struggle against him; she knew her attempts would amount to
nothing. His knee was just grazing her dress, right between her legs.
“Go on,” he said, “Sit.” Sansa made to move away, but not fast enough. She felt
his strong hands grab the back of her thighs, just bellow her bottom, and pull
her closer so that she was straddling his thigh. It reminded her of riding her
mare, expect here she had no saddle and she sat face to face with Sandor
Clegane, his leg between hers. He caught both her hands in one of his, holding
them behind her back.
“What do you think a knight is for, girl? You think it’s all taking favors from
ladies and looking fine in gold plate? Knights are for killing.” His other hand
reached up on her spine and took hold of her hair, tugging it back gently. She
could smell his musky scent, like the trees and grass, as if he’d been out
hunting all day.
He leaned in towards her and bought his face into her neck, kissing her just
under her ear. His thigh became all too warm all at once. She moved her hips
against him, basking in the feeling between her legs and the feel of his lips
on her neck.
“I killed my first man at twelve.” His harsh voice was a whisper in her ear,
the warmth of his breath sending aches to her lower abdomen.
“I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed since then. High lords with old names,
fat rich men dressed in velvet, knights puffed up like bladders with their
honors, yes,” His hand moved from her hair and grabbed her buttock, his fingers
pinching into her skin through her dress.
“Ohh…” she gasped as his hand forced her to move her pelvis against his thigh
again. The aches were turning into pleasure, her chest pressed up against his
breastplate. With her own thigh between his widespread legs she could feel his
hardening manhood, which only served to reinforce her movements.
“The little bird likes that, doesn’t she,” He said, his lips only an inch away
from her own. He took one of her hands from behind her and bought it the large
bulge in his breeches. “Can you feel what you do to me,” he whispered, her hand
now traveling the length of him on it’s own. She stopped one third of the way
down the length of his thigh. Her hips moved against him on their own accord, a
pleasure centering in her groin so strong she could barely contain herself. “Do
you see what you’ve done to me?”
Her lips crashed into his, and his own ravaged and kissed her in a way she
never knew men and ladies to kiss. She opened her lips to his tongue, and he
kissed her harder. Not knowing what to do she decided to suck on his tongue,
and the low groan in his throat that it bought forth sent her over the edge.
She felt her climax hit her, and she moaned into his mouth, his manhood
throbbing under her palm, the heat of which making her climax all the more
sweeter. She rode out every second of it on his thigh, not feeling the least
bit scandalized. Who knew one could gain such pleasure without removing a
single article of clothing, she thought.
She pulled her head back to look at him then, but his stare was ravenous. She
might have finished, but he was only getting started.
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