A/N: Arya and Gendry week forever! Also, laziness forever! Sorry y'all, been crazy busy, but for all you smutty fiends, this is for you.

The years had worn on with Brotherhood, times getting tougher as the way dragged on. Gendry had a makeshift forge that he called home, beating away at shoddy metal, focusing on quantity over quality. Some days it irked, and others he was just thankful to have a place of his own where he could beat something senseless, and bend it at his will.

As of late, he'd taken to his work much more diligently, channeling his emotions into the swing of his hammer. His brow was damp with sweat as he made the steel sing, and his mind started to drift, wondering if he could make her sing like that for him…

He quickly shook off the thought, knowing it wouldn't do any good to dwell on it. He needed to concentrate.

But try as he might, he couldn't.

He had seen Arya early one morning, figuring he'd go to the nearby river and give himself a good scrub, something he'd neglected to do as of late, but stopped dead in his tracks.

She rose from the water, looking more divine than the Maid herself. The water streamed down her pale back, flattening the normally unruly dark hair against the curve of her spine. Gendry never really noticed how long it had gotten, but the tips just brushed above her athletic bottom, framed by two dimples on her lower back that he'd never noticed either. He felt his cock throb as he realized he was looking at a whole body of things he'd never noticed, like the hips that had been hidden under oversized breeches, and the tiny waist shrouded by grungy tunics. Gendry stood there, unable to tear his eyes away, and Arya pushed her hair back, causing her lean muscles in her back and slender arms to shift and ripple, and before Gendry knew what he was doing, his hand was reached towards his breeches.

Arya ducked back down beneath the water, and Gendry finally sobered up, and realized for one, he'd be a dead man if caught, and two, these thoughts were impure, expected of him being the bastard he was. Neither of those thoughts sat nicely with him, and he charged back into the forest hoping to make his getaway before Arya would notice his presence. That night though, he found himself on the cot in the forge with cock in hand, flashing imaged of a naked Arya bathing in the river in his mind.

He never let himself do that again though, and for a week could barely look at her out of embarrassment. Finally though, he started staring at her as she practiced with the other outlaws, imagining how her body looked as it danced underneath the dirty rags that passed as clothing. A few times, he even let himself imagine her in a dress. That would bring a smile to his face, until he imagined how it would push her bosom up, and hug her waist. Moments like those drove him straight to the forge, where he felt he could work out his sins if he tried hard enough.

It was a few weeks later when he sat down at a table at the inn... or rather brothel, with some men of the brotherhood, carrying over a few drinks Thoros had sent him to get. Arya was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't terribly unusual. She'd have more drinks than usual, saying it'd help her sleep and ignore the wanton sounds from the neighboring rooms. She wasn't overly fond of the servers (of any sorts) either, or any other women they seemed to meet. Gendry couldn't blame her, honestly, the women annoyed him too, what with how they'd throw themselves at anything with a cock and coin.

He set the tankards on the table and sat down, enjoying the free drink for a change, occasionally shrugging off the odd wench or two. As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, Gendry felt the absence of Arya more and more, wishing she'd join him with her company, japing, teasing, just ebing Arya. He was lost deep in his thoughts when Anguy clumsily sat down at the table, a whore trailing him down the stairs red faced and giggly.

"Aye, what's wrong with our bull?" He had a smile on his face from ear to ear, no doubt mostly from the woman he'd taken upstairs, but something about it was mischievous.

"The lad's sour as usual, I say he needs a wench, dip his prick and relax. Yer too wound up boy. It'll do ya no good." One of the men with them raised his glass and Gendry just rolled his eyes.

"Yer partly right, about dipping his prick, but you're a picky one, aren't yea Gendry?" Anguy was staring him down and Gendry pulled his tankard closer, avoiding his gaze. "Not any lass will do for our smith, no he wants a she-wolf." The men started laughing, and Gendry just drained his drink and got up for another one.

"Aye mate, get one for me! If ya do I'll share a tastey bit of something I've just heard. It'll make your head spin." Anguy winked and Gendry just nodded, deeper in his cups than he'd realized while sitting.

He set the ale in front of the gloating archer, staring him down.


"You'll like this, I guarantee it."

"Just tell me."

"She's calling for ya Gendry, I heard her moans from the room next door, saying your name. She wants ya." The table roared with laughter and someone smacked him on the back, but Gendry just froze with his drink in his hands, not believing.

"You're lyin. It ain't like her."

"You say that now, but I heard her keenin for ya with my own ears."

"Bet she's a wild one between the furs? We know how feisty our wolf is, seen what she can do with her little sword? Bet she's got quite the body underneath them rags!" Gendry flushed furiously at the memory of her rising from the water. "She probably howls when she comes that one!" The men cheered and drank some more.

Gendry slammed his now empty tankard on the table, silencing the hoots and yells of the drunk men. He wouldn't tolerate this. She was a lady. She wasn't here to defend herself, so he would.

"The lot of you sorry drunks better shut yer fucking mouths about her, unless you want my hammer to do it for you. She was raised a lady! She may not act it and deny it till she dies, but we should still treat her as such! Fuck the lot of you asses!" The men were silent, watching him as he stormed up the stairs, and one of the bar maids cheered him, causing the outlaws to laugh and holler, turning back to their drinks.

Gendry made his way back to the room he shared with Arya, pausing before opening. He could barely hear the ruckus downstairs and gently put his ear to the door. His heart fluttered then felt as if it had stopped beating. He was certain. Anguy was right.

"Uhnn… Gen…. Gendry… ohh…"

He was sure his ears must've been on fire. He Held his breath and placed his ear back on the door. Her breathing was becoming more frantic, and the only reason Gendry knew his heart still had a rhythm was because it had just pumped all the blood down south. He heard the stairs creak, and before he could think, he opened the door, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping.

There was a yelp as Gendry stumbled into the room red faced, but not as red as Arya. The faint light of the moon shed just enough light to see the blush across her face and the glow cast over her bare shoulders, tensed and porcelain like.

"What in seven hells!? Knock please?" She looked angry and frustrated, and he just sat there mumbling apologies while standing there unable to take his eyes from her and the gentle lines of her neck, the halo of wild hair, and the unusually dark eyes glaring at him.

He shut the door to the room, and cautiously took a step forward, emboldened by the alcohol in his veins, and probably by the bulge in his breeches. When he spoke his voice was unusually gravely, still deep, yet quiet.

"I thought I heard you say my name, so I walked in." She went beet red, clutching the furs.

"No stupid, you're hearing things." She started chewing her lip. He licked his in return.

"You're right, I am hearing things. I know I heard my name Arya." He took another step forward, hating himself for defending her honor as a lady and now treating her like this. He never should've eavesdropped but now he was in too deep, My bastard blood is getting the best of me… He took one more step until he was at the side of the bed, looking down at her grey eyes, wide with curiosity. "What is it Arya, what do you want from me?"

Arya bit her lip, and looked at his body. He felt his cock stiffen, and she mumbled something. "Excuse me?" He sat down on the bed, reaching out a hand, cradling her chin while running his thumb along her jawline, tilting her head towards him.

"Everything." She shrugged the furs, revealing her bare chest. Gendry moved his hand to cup the back of her hand and pulled her into a deep kiss full of pent up passion. Something about knowing his want for her was returned set his soul aflame. He was desperate to share every feeling he had with her, knowing that if she really wanted everything, he'd gladly give it to her.

Arya crawled into his lap, and he wound a hand around her back, clutching her closer as she ran a hand through his hair and another on his chest. He traced her lips with his tongue, and she nibbled his lower lip in return. She started to kiss her jaw, whispering her name. The combination of his breath and his stubble rubbing her skin caused her stomach to flutter, reminding her of her pleasure interrupted earlier. She hastily started working at his tunic, all but ripping it off him.

Gendry just let his hands wander over her skin, tracing all the scars he'd seen that day at the river, and discovering new ones along the way. He moved his lips downwards, lightly kissing any of the bruises he saw, wishing he could make them disappear. She started to unlace his breeches, her fingertips dancing across his erection. He groaned and buried his head in the crook of Arya's neck.

"Fuck Arya, you have no idea what you do to me, how long I've wanted this…" She cut him off with a furious kiss, diving on top of him, hands back in his hair, pulling him closer. When she broke away to catch her breath, she went back to his breeches, pulling them off, leaving them both bare on the bed.

Gendry sat back on his knees, taking in Arya's body, thinking if he went blind, it wouldn't matter. Nothing could top the vision in front of him now.

She sat up and started to kiss his torso, dipping her tongue into the grooves that the muscles of his well worked abdomen created. He tilted his head back and let her explore. One of her hands ran along his bicep, not even able to go halfway around. She was so small next to him, something he normally forgotten with how loud she was and the sword on her hip. Arya acted as if she could take on the Mountain himself.

But here she was, kissing every inch of his body she could reach, her tiny waist giving way to her curvy bottom in front of him. Gendry reached down, cupping it and pulling her up against him. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his, now kissing her way along his stubble. He groaned as he felt the wetness between her legs press against him. She pulled his hair exposing his neck, eliciting another growl from him, and he turned, laying down on the bed with her atop him.

Finally Arya's lips found his again, and he attacked her with purpose, cupping her breasts as his tongue lashed out against hers. She was left panting when the kiss ended, but met his admiring gaze and slowly without breaking eye contact, began gyrating her hips, pressing her warm centers on his now aching cock.

"Please Gendry… I need this." Her voice softened, "I need you."

She wrapped a hand around his member and bit her lip, lifting her hips, not even giving him a moment to stop her, as if he wanted to. She sank down onto him with a yip, scrunching her eyebrows together. Gendry arched his back, opening his mouth and throwing his head into the pillow.

He imagined nothing could feel better than this, so warm, wet… tight. He fisted the furs, trying not to ram his hips in her, willing himself to remain still as she adjusted to being filled. She let out a long breath and moved her hands from his arms to his chest, bracing herself as she experimentally moved herself, lifting and lowering, slightly moving her hips in circles.

Gendry was wrong, this was better. Better than anything. She began to moan and gasp as she found spots she couldn't reach on her own. Gendry began moving his hips, and with the first thrust up, she called his name again and he grinned. She began to move faster and Gendry eagerly met her pace, chanting her name and grabbing at her hips, helping her reach her peak. She started to cry his name louder and in a higher pitch, and he sat up and kissed her in an attempt to keep her quite. She just kept riding him relentlessly, her chest bouncing against his.

He leaned back down on the bed, pulling her with him until she was hovering over him, and palmed one breast, while taking the other in his mouth. She arched her chest into the feelings, clutching the back of his head pressing him harder against her. Her desperation sent his head spinning, and he flicked her stiff nipple with his tongue, pinching the other with his hand. She growled at his touch and frantically slammed down on him, desperate from release. Gendry knew he couldn't last much longer, and with one last kiss to her breast, began mumbling into the soft flesh as his other hand reached to where they were joined, rubbing softly.

"Come for me Arya, let go, please."

She came with nothing short of a howl, cursing and shouting his name and he thrust up into her with abandon, craving his own release. Seconds later, as her walls tightened and rippled around him, he came, and clutched her hips, filling her, and with a grunt and one last thrust, fell back into the furs, Arya crumpling on top of him.

They spent the rest of the night lying in each other's arms, tracing patterns with their fingers, neither wanting to break the peaceful silence. Gendry couldn't help but smile before he drifted off, looking at Arya asleep on his chest, her hair splayed widely across it as well as her back, her lashes resting on her cheeks. The drunk was right, she howled like a wolf. His little she-wolf, fierce in the bed as in everyday life. Not that he should've expected less.

Meanwhile a very drunk Anguy sat across from a very drunk Thoros sat listening to the noises coming from Arya's room.

"I don't know why yer in a tiff about this, the girl has no family left, she doesn't have anywhere to go, and no one's going to think her a lady with that mouth and those manners." Anguy drained the last of his ale.

"You never know, we could've found some lord willing to have her." Thoros's face was knitted in thought… and trying to focus on the spinning cup before him.

"Setting aside the fact she'd run you through, you know we couldn't do that to her now, now with how long she's been with us. She fits in oddly well, and she's useful. Ya know this is mutual, everyone knew but the two of them, the idiots." Anguy caught the wink of a whore from earlier over Thoros's shoulder, and winked back as he stood up to meet her.

Thoros rubbed his beard looking at his empty tankard.

As Anguy walked away, he grabbed Thoro's shoulder.

"Come on mate, it was bound to happen."