A/N: While Mr. Littlefeather watched the Super Bowl, I wrote this! Enjoy! This chapter is explicit, so be forewarned.

The flickering embers of the dying fire roused Sandor after the third quarter of the moon. Looking down, he saw the little bird was still peacefully sleeping with her ivory cheek resting on his chest. At the sight of her, his manhood instantly hardened and he pulled her closer against him. Sandor reached down and brought his long fingers through the silken strands of her hair. Emboldened, he shifted closer to her but still Sansa did not stir. Sighing softly once more, she snuggled down closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Never had Sandor touched or held anything as perfect as his beloved bride. Under his hands, Sansa was unbelievably delicate and smooth and the youthful softness of her body set his blood boiling. Sandor smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down the slope of her back. Sansa stirred and then tensed for a moment before relaxing into his touch.

She craned her head up to face him. "My love, forgive me, you startled me. I am not accustomed to waking up to you."

The graceful curve between her neck and shoulder called to him. Sandor leaned down and nuzzled into her neck before carefully placing his mouth against the downy softness of her nape, gently nibbling her there.

"Oh, my, this is a nice way to awaken," she cooed, twisting the length of his hair between her fingers.

"Warm enough, wife?"

Her eyes lit up as she regarded him. "Oh, yes, very. You feel so very good. Would you like to, um, try again?" Nervously she fidgeted with the blanket before stealing a glance at him through a curtain of red hair.

"Aye, very much so, wife," Sandor traced his finger under the strap of her sleeping gown while tasting the tender skin along her collarbone. Sansa arched into him, her eagerness delighting the man. "I want to see you."

Shyly Sansa nodded, a mischievous smile playing across her luscious mouth. Deftly he slipped her gown off her shoulders and smoothed the material to her hips, baring her completely. Blushing, Sansa raised up to help him remove it.

Her receptiveness startled Sandor. While his hands rubbed circles over her sides and back, Sandor let out an appreciative growl at the sight of her body in the firelight, the shadows casting her lovely curves in a deep orange glow. Sansa was perfect, far more beautiful than any woman he had ever been with. His feelings for her went far beyond admiring her beauty; he was in love with her, he had to admit, and the intimacy of having her in his arms threatened to overwhelm Sandor. Every fiber within the man ached for her, but Sandor was determined he would not rush Sansa.

All that stood between them now was her cursed smallclothes but Sansa blushed so furiously when Sandor eyed them that he decided to leave them on for the time being. Sighing to dispel his pent up tension, Sandor gently kneaded her back and once she relaxed, he then allowed his hands to then explore the small dip in her waist, the rounded swell of her hips, her creamy thighs and legs that seemed to stretch on forever.

Catlike, Sansa rubbed her cheek against his and mewled softly at the contact, burying her face in the crook of his neck contentedly, her response pleasing the man immensely. Good girl. Her sweet honeyed scent paired with the press of her sensuous body against him was so thoroughly intoxicating that before long Sandor's control wavered sharply. She is young. Take your time, dog, or you'll scare her. Drawing in a deep breath, the man held her gaze and tentatively reached out and caressed her beautifully full breasts, carefully squeezing them in each hand. Soft and supple, they were more perfect than he imagined in his most heated wine dreams.

Sansa gasped softly and then giggled. "Forgive me, you merely surprised me, Sandor," she offered by way of explanation. "Your hands are a bit cold." Sandor figured as much; her rosy nipples hardened as soon as the cool air touched them. He could fix that easily enough. Cupping each one in his large hands, he rubbed them against his cheek, warming her silky skin as he pressed his face there between them and placing soft kisses up to her collarbone.

Gasping softly once more, he felt Sansa's hands cup his head and then smooth through the length of his hair, his wife sighing out a soft moan as she did so. Watching the little bird squeeze her eyes closed, a familiar nagging self-doubt boiled through the man. In his heart he knew her reaction was a sign of pleasure but the dark idea that she could not bear the sight of his scarred face assaulted his mind. Angrily Sandor tilted his head back and rasped, "Look at me."

Her eyes fluttered open. "What is wrong, love?"

"If you want to stop, just say so," Sandor growled roughly, pulling her chin mere inches from his face.

Recognition flooded the little bird's lovely eyes as she returned his gaze. Reaching to caress his chin, Sansa stared deep into his dark countenance, tugged at the lacings of his smallclothes and whispered heatedly, "Sandor, I have always wanted you to be mine and I want nothing more than to give myself to you. Please, make me your wife and never again doubt my love and desire for you."

Groaning, Sandor rested his face against her breast while hot tears pearled in the corners of his eyes. "I will lass, but I have something to say first. Sansa, you are young yet, and I won't plant a babe in you until she want one," he murmured against her skin.

"Alright, I wish for us to learn each other for a while before we start our family," Sansa continued stroking her fingers through the length of his hair. "But how can we keep from bringing forth children?"

The last thing he wanted to do was explain that to her just then. "You let me worry about that."

Sansa shifted beneath him. "I-I have heard from the maids and a few of the older women that there are teas of some sort…"

"No, lass, NO," Sandor roared out louder than he intended. Cursing himself, he glanced up at her. She was not scared, though; Sansa squarely met his gaze and waited for him to continue. "They are dangerous to both the woman and the babe. It could kill you." He gripped her chin tightly. "Promise me you will never drink such. Swear it."

Understanding filled her eyes. "I swear on our marriage and on the old gods that I will never drink any tea that would end pregnancy."

Satisfied, Sandor kissed her soundly. "Anyone who brings that substance anywhere near you will taste my steel, believe that."

Sansa nodded, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. While holding her eye, Sandor lowered his head for another kiss, languidly tracing his tongue over her lips. "Now, where were we?"

Wriggling impatiently beneath him, Sansa rolled over to face him. "Let me touch you now, husband."

Her request both surprised him and inflamed his passion even further; he would never manage to keep from spilling his seed again at this rate. Cursing under his breath, Sandor steeled himself and cleared his throat. "Go ahead then, girl."

Pressing the flat of her palms against his chest, Sansa turned him over on his back, blushing madly as she lightly stroked his skin. Amused, Sandor settled himself among the pillows while Sansa awkwardly straddled his lap. To his delight, she was already wet, the dampness seeping through the silken material of her smallclothes.

His eyes fell to her undergarments, and the man silently cursed himself for not removing the damnable article of clothing earlier. Still, it did little to diminish the heat radiating from her core, and the sensation brought a sudden surge of lust throughout Sandor's body once more. Gripping her thighs, he ran his thumbs back to her woman's place, fingering the soaked material and pushing it aside.

"Oh!" Sansa's eyes twinkled mischievously, causing him to laugh sharply. "Oh that feels good."

"Does it now?" Sandor murmured, pulling her further down over his cock.

"I feel naughty, somehow," she confessed, and before Sandor could answer she sank down over his hardened manhood and began running her hands over the ridges of hardened muscle carving his chest. Leaning forward, Sansa then moved her hands down to the tapering of his waist in rhythmic, sweeping movements. The soft, warm feeling of her skin gliding over his sent a powerful wave of lust to Sandor's core. Concentrating on keeping his self-control, he allowed his eyes to drift closed under her ministrations.

Feather light fingertips continued tracing further downward and over the vee of his pelvis, massaging him there. His manhood painfully throbbed in response, begging for her touch. Above him, Sansa giggled softly, pleased with herself, and daringly she unlaced his smallclothes, easing them down his hips. Startled, Sandor's eyes snapped open to see Sansa's cheeks flush bright red but her apparent embarrassment did not stop her from removing them completely.

"The hair on your chest is very soft, but the hair here is quite different," Sansa commented curiously, dragging her nails through the course curls at the base of his manhood.

"Aye," was all Sandor could manage, his body jerking in response as Sansa wrapped her silken fingers around his cock. Unable to hold back, he gripped her hold around him and squeezed, then slid her hand up and down his shaft, setting a rhythm and thrusting to match the pace.

Sansa's eyes widened while her breathing came in shallow gasps as she watched the head of his manhood appear and disappear in her palm. Watching her pleasure him soon became too much for the man; throwing his head back, Sandor closed his eyes and blew out the breath he was holding in an effort to stem the rush of pressure to the head of his cock. His release was barely held at bay when suddenly the little bird's tongue lightly swirled over the head of his penis, tasting the wetness there.

Groaning loudly, Sandor fisted her hair in his hands, fighting to resist thrusting into her lush mouth. Gently she began suckling him; the soft little wet noises Sansa's mouth made instantly brought his release. Quickly he moved her away from his cock and settled her on her back, pulling on his painfully hard member to relieve the pressure. It was too late though, for he spilled his seed over her breasts and stomach.

Curiously she watched him, then shyly looked into his eyes. "Did you not like it?"

"Fuck me, I liked it a bit too well," he gasped. "Can't you tell? I peaked on you, girl; forgive me."

Sandor sheepishly reached for a towel and began cleaning her off. "This is the way I'll keep you from getting with child, if it isn't too objectionable to you."

"Oh," Sansa glanced down and smiled. Stilling his hand, she lightly touched the wetness there, spreading it over her skin. "I do not mind it; your pleasure is mine. It should be thus between us. Now will you come into me, my love?"

Watching her rub his seed over her luscious body instantly aroused him once more. "Easy lass, there's no hurry," he growled, his cock already hardening again. "We have all night and I mean to make you ready."

Smiling, she held her arms out to him. Wrapping her close, he stroked her cheek, jawline, and neck with the back of his hand, all the while wondering how the gods ever saw fit to give him such a fucking perfect goddess as a wife. "Now, let me taste you."

Her huge blue eyes widened before Sansa breathlessly nodded. Sandor caressed his hand over her tiny waist and the flat plain of her belly, kissed and nibbled the inside of her thighs as he made his way to the apex of her woman's place. Instinctively Sansa tightened her legs. "I want to taste you here," Sandor rasped against the tender flesh of her mound before running his index finger over the length of her opening.

"Oh, my, truly?" Sansa breathed out.

Glancing up at her, Sandor was pleased to see Sansa's skin flushed with desire and covered in sweat, a vision out of his dreams. "Open your pretty legs for me and let me taste your sweet cunt."

Panting, she finally managed to nod once more. Slowly Sandor drew his tongue over her folds, and then dipped it inside her slit, tasting the length of her. Sansa was even sweeter than she looked, more succulent than the finest Summer wine or the first fruit of spring, and Sandor swore then that he would never get enough of her.

Crying out, Sansa arched her hips toward him, wriggling impatiently. He meant to only tease her a bit before thrusting inside but her delicious flavor irresistibly captivated him. Taking himself in hand, Sandor gave himself a long, hard stroke as he continued hungrily licking and plunging his tongue inside his beloved wife.

"Husband, oh!" Sansa whined, bucking toward him. She's close, gods save me; I'll never keep myself in check. Anchoring her firmly with his powerful arms, Sandor eagerly laved his tongue over her until suddenly she cried out sharply, her entire body quivering in release. Gently he prolonged his ministrations, licking and suckling her until she finished riding out her peak.

"Sandor, oh my, that was…" Sansa gasped out breathlessly.

He chuckled knowingly. "It was beautiful, wife. I've never seen anything prettier than watching you release in my mouth," Sandor devilishly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Trembling, Sansa flushed deep red and giggled self-consciously.

Pressing his lips against her ear, Sandor then positioned himself over her and growled, "Let me have you now, lass."

"Yes," she moaned long and low, arching her back toward him.

Sandor dipped his head to kiss her mouth while grinding his cock into her mound. Sansa instinctively tilted her hips up when the tip of his manhood pressed against her woman's place. Taking himself in hand, Sandor pushed forward into her opening; when she neither tensed nor cried out, he carefully slid the length of his into her. A small gasp escaped her lips while her nails dug into his shoulders slightly.


"No, Sandor, just a feeling of fullness," came her response from the crook of his neck. He pushed forward again, breaking her maiden's veil. Sansa gasped sharply as her inner walls clenched tightly around him. Her cunt was so tight he hardly dared move; ever so slowly, Sandor began to rock his hips back and forth, gradually increasing his movements as her body relaxed.

"Yes," she breathed out. "Oh, that feels wonderful."

"Good," he muttered through gritted teeth. Sandor kept moving at a gentle pace, slickly pulling back before sliding forward, and grinding his flesh against her apex. The pressure of her squeezing his manhood combined with the friction of their bodies moving as one nearly unmanned him.

Sansa sighed softly and wiggled against him, inexpertly trying to match his cadence. Gripping her hips, Sandor began thrusting faster, guiding her movements while swearing softly.

"More Sandor, please," she begged, thrusting her hips against him. Hearing her words broke the last of his will; unable to hold back, Sandor began pounding into her at a frenzied pace.

Sansa's held onto him tightly, her face contorted in pleasure. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she used her thighs to squeeze him tightly, urging him onward. Her body suddenly pulsed around him; Sansa cried out her release, grinding down hard against him as she did so.

Thrusting deep into her, Sandor quickly followed; he narrowly pulled out in time, stroking his shaft against her woman's place until his entire body shuddered out his orgasm. After the last pulses of their completion subsided, the spent couple laid sprawled out in each other's arms, laughing softly and kissing as they settled into the pillows.

Sandor leaned over, took a goblet of wine from the nightstand and offered it to her. Smiling softly, she daintily sipped from it before handing it back to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she nodded sleepily, snuggling against him.

Tilting her face up to his, Sandor suddenly grew serious and warily studied her. "Did I hurt you? Tell me truly, wife."

Drawing his face down to hers, Sansa kissed him softly, then said, "No, my love. It was beautiful…I feel very relaxed and satisfied in a way that is hard to explain. It was a lovely way to seal our wedded union. I love you so very much, Sandor."

Never a man to make declarations, he knew what Sansa needed to hear, and Sandor was determined he would give it to her. "As I love you, wife," he caressed his thumb over her bottom lip. "It will always be thus between us, lass, believe that. I swear it on our marriage."

Sansa beamed up at him. "And I swear I will fill your life with love, Sandor."

Choking back his tears, Sandor rested his cheek on her forehead and felt her breathing soon slow as he stroked her back soothingly. In the silence of their bedchamber, Sandor awkwardly offered his first prayer, vowing to the old gods that he would keep Sansa safe. He swore she would never doubt his love and appreciation for her all the days of his life, for she alone completed him in a way he never knew possible. Determined to begin a new way of life, Sandor concluded by thanking the old gods for the best name day gift he had ever received, his beloved Sansa.