sandorclegane-thehound replied to your post: *trudges back into the room nearly two hours later, breathing heavily*
*sets his helm on the bed and unbuckles his swordbelt* Well enough, I suppose… I didn’t get my ass handed to me, at least…. Help me out of this armor?
*carefully sets Pup on the bed, safely cushioning him amidst the blankets as she moves to help him. She blankly stares at him for a moment, unsure of where to start, then simply works on his shoulderguards and grins a bit* You'll be wanting me to rub your shoulders then, hm?
sandorclegane-thehound replied to your post: *wakes in the middle of the night, panicked and gasping for breath, after a nightmare. He sits up slowly and runs a hand through his hair, then reaches out to pet Bear to try to calm himself down*
*nods, pulling her close* Bad dream…. That’s all. M’fine.
*kisses his shoulder as she rests her hand on his chest, gently patting him as she yawns* You can tell me about it....if it'll help. *tries her best to ease him back down, glancing him over worryingly*
*grunts softly as her hips move against his, shifting slightly to reposition her against him, allowing her a greater range of motion, and opens his mouth a little wider for her as one of his hands finds a breast and plays with it idly*
*moans quietly, slowly rolling her hips over his to further increase his arousal, the welcome friction sending waves of desire through her. She deepens the kiss hungrily at his movements, stroking the roof of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, a trick she learned all the way back in Winterfell. One hand finds it's way atop his as he caresses her, encouraging him to touch her as she groans softly*
Part one of an AU take on Blackwater partially designed as an alternative to the ever popular Sansan and as a present for sandorclegane-thehound.
It had burned her eyes, that gods damned fire. She had crossed the room, away from the whispering girls, when the drums could first be heard. Each deep thump send a shiver through her and she found her knuckles were white as they pulled back the silk from the window as the steady tempo grew and grew until it was beating in time with her racing heart. Ros could see the sails, dark outlines against the darker sky as she squinted, and a surge of dread coursed through her as she got closer and closer.
Once she would have casually sat along the windowsill, breathing in the cool night air as the clouds above her crackled with the whispers of a growing storm, her eyes focused on a battle whose victor she cared nothing for. Either side would still need their whores after the battle, would need to use something to forget about the blood and muck and death and their need would mean profit. If Stannis were to win, well, Littlefinger would more than likely lose his much beloved position, his titles and lands stripped and she, in turn, would be more than willing to make the brothel her own business as the girls looked for someone to obey. If the Lannisters held their own, well, life would go on as normal after a furiously busy week, one customer after another.
But things were different now, because of him. He had come late last night and Ros had no doubt he should not have been there, should have been planning the defense alongside the rest of the guards or even instructing the bastard king on how to protect himself, but somehow he had found his way to her even as the city trembled both in anticipation and fear of the battle that was to come.
There had been no hushed laughter and teasing nibbles as the door had closed behind them, no playful caresses and muffled groans. He had never been one for conversation, she knew that much, but his silence had worried her as he pulled her close. She had instead attempted the only thing she often feared she knew how to do, her slender hand gently sliding down his thigh to rest against the familiar outline of his cock, but he had instead taken her hand and gently kissed it. He shook his head, smiling very faintly at her confusion, and whispered that he just wanted to be for the night.
And so Ros had lain within his embrace, his lips pressed into her wild red hair, until he had fallen asleep. Once his breath had steadied, she had allowed herself to cry, because she knew that there was a possibility, perhaps even a true, great chance, that she would never know this again. She had taken the chance to memorize the way he felt at that very moment, willing each piece to memory. The weight of his muscled thigh as it rested over her hip and pulled her close. The gentle scratch of his chest hair beneath her cheek as she curled against him. The rough callouses of his fingers while they languidly traced little circles along the pale of her back. Ros memorized every inch of it to detail as she laid against him and watched the sun rise through silken curtains.
As he stirred, she had gone still and closed her eyes, her breathing deep as she pretended to sleep. She choked back a sob as his fingers trailed through her messied hair and his lips moved to her temple with a tenderness she had never seen from him before; his touch so delicate it was as though he feared she might shatter beneath him but took the risk all the same.
Part exhilarating courage, part heart breaking foolishness.
He had moved to rise then and she found herself suddenly clinging to him, her ruse of sleep utterly shattered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head against his shoulder. She willed herself not to cry, to be strong, to be brave for him and the idea itself was so preposterous, a whore steeling herself so that she might comfort Sandor Clegane, she let out a whimpered laugh. He blinked and Ros saw that he understood, his eyes growing tender and he pulled her close.
Don’t go. I have to. I don’t want you to. I don’t want to. Come back. I will. Promise me. I can’t do that. I don’t care. I promise. Please. I will. I love you. And I love you.
He turned and left then and she thought of that moment as the bay exploded into flames, into tendrils of searing green light and the screams of burning, dying men. She thought of his promise.
sandorclegane-thehound replied to your post: *wakes up just before dawn and simply lays there, watching her sleep, for a long moment before he carefully reaches up to touch her hair*
*chuckles softly and closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around her once again before drifting back to sleep*
*perks open one eye as she bites her lip to stifle a yawn so as not to wake him, smiling sleepily as she brushes a bit of hair behind his ear*
sandorclegane-thehound replied to your post: *wakes in the middle of the night with an aching head and realizes he has no idea where he is. A quick, cursory glance around lets him make out the vauge familiarity of Ros’s chambers, and her body curled up against his. Wincing against the pain of moving, he gently kisses her hair and closes his eyes again, hoping the pain won’t keep him from sleeping.*
Mmmmm…. For the moment, yes. *reaches for her hand and laces his fingers through hers* Seven hells, my head hurts… What happened?
*swallows hard, biting the corner of her lip as she's silent for a long moment, then quickly turns her back to him and scootches up against him, letting her hair fall over his face. She squeezes his hand softly and tries her damnedest to keep her voice cheerful as she whispers* We had quite a nice time last night, if you get what I'm saying, but you got so into it you fucking fell off the bed and near about took me with you. Got a nasty bump on your head. Don't you remember?
sandorclegane-thehound replied to your post: *wakes up the next morning to find himself tangled up in her limbs, and chuckles softly, kissing the top of her head to wake her* Good morning, Kitten.
*chuckles softly and lays back to let her sleep a while longer*
*smiles as she yawns once more, nuzzling his chest as she does so. She opens one eye and gives him a bleary grin, her words slurred slightly in her sleepiness* You sleep well?
