Bolton Rising Part 65 - Sandor & Alayne

After returning from his brother’s home and dealing with Gregor’s woman, Sandor was on the edge. He stormed into the quiet penthouse and headed right for the bar, pouring himself a straight shot of hard whiskey. Clegane tossed the drink down and slammed the glass on the counter, reaching for the bottle to refill his drink when he heard the girl’s soft humming from the rear of the residence. A dark smirk crested the Dog’s scarred face as his blood instantly ran hot, stoking an intense desire to hunt, while he stalked his way down the dark hallway towards the master bedroom. Sandor strolled into the lavish room like he had pissed on the pricey furniture and claimed possession over Littlefinger’s property. He stood by the open door of the bathroom, letting the heavy steam mask his presence as he drank and watched the naked silhouette of Alayne moving under the waterfall of shower heads. As her sweet singing grew louder, Sandor clenched the clear glass in his hand harder, growing more aroused yet agitated at the same time. The Little Bird in the gilded cage tormented his senses night and day, causing conflicting emotions of wanting to protect and destroy this princess he had been tasked to guard with his life. Clegane barely registered the pain as the glass shattered and cut his hand open, blood dripping on the floor. A low growl rumbled as he tore at his clothing and then surprised his prey from behind, pinning Alayne against the tile wall before she could even utter a protest. Sandor’s kiss was hard and demanding, parting the girl’s soft lips open and shoving his rough tongue down her throat, while his knee slid between her legs and an arm yanked her forward, sliding the girl’s wet soapy cunt over his firm muscled thigh.

Alayne sang without knowing that she did so, an old song about love and longing. Sometimes she found herself singing the words, other time she would hum a bar or two as the water rushed over her and the scent of bluebells filled the air. She loved that scent; it was "hers." Petyr had the fragrance specially created for her on one of his business trips. He never went away and returned empty handed and his taste was impeccable. She loved pretty things, and he knew exactly what would be right for her, even better than she did. Her mind wandered back to the night he'd presented her with the bluebell scent, the way he'd rubbed the cream into her skin so tenderly, yet so seductively. Petyr had touched all the pulse points of her body with the parfum, each touch followed by a soft caress of his lips. She sighed at the memory, closing her eyes, and could almost feel his touch on her skin. "So different..." she thought, her mind unable to suppress yet another memory, this one of rough hands running over soft curves, teeth nipping at her neck as she moaned, urging him on. Huge hands gripped her hips and lifted her effortlessly... Alayne bit her lip, trapping a whimper in her throat, her tummy clenching, a deep throbbing beginning between her thighs.

It was a moment before she realized that the hands sliding over her wet skin were not, in fact, a memory. Clegane pressed her against the shower wall, his massive form towering over her as he bent to kiss her roughly. Her mind could barely register whether or not this was all really happening, or if she'd slipped into some kind of fantastic dream where sensations were felt so intensely that she thought she might die from them. He swallowed her gasp as their tongues met and she licked at his like a hungry kitten. She moved her hips, grinding her sex against his thigh, and he growled deeply, biting her lip, his erection pressing hard into the small of her back. Alayne knew without a doubt that she wanted nothing more than to be overpowered by this man, to be utterly consumed by the beast within him.

"You think you can have everything and not suffer the consequences, Little Bird?" Sandor rumbled with a fierce tone, pinning Alayne's wrists over her head, keeping his beautiful prey trapped against the wall as he palmed and squeezed her breast. Rough fingers ran across hard, pert nipples, pinching a tender bud to make Alayne gasp and squirm against her entrapment. "I plan on making you pay for your games tonight... and every day I'm denied the pleasure of your body," the Hound snapped with clenched teeth, his thickened cock finding a perch against the girl's pink folds before thrusting inside, savoring the feel of her tight resistance as he wedged his pelvis between Alayne's thighs, wrapping himself with her legs. Clegane fucked her hard and raw, hoisting the girl's weight easily in his arms as his mouth licked and sucked the rapidly beating pulse in her neck.

There was no question that she should yield to him. Alayne gave herself to him entirely, letting him take full possession of her body. She became a vessel for his rage and she knew that this was right; he was right to feel this way. Most were afraid of Sandor Clegane and yet for her, this was safety. Being so close to him every day was torment for her as well. Her love for him was so strong that her heart ached to think of him and her longing was so great that she often felt faint from it. She wanted him to own her, to eat her alive in his furious frenzy of possession.

Alayne tried to answer him, but she could not bring the words past her lips. Her body burned hot and her every pore was alive with the fire of his touch. He moved her on his thick erection, filling her with every thrust, his animal instinct bubbling to the surface as she mewled into his ear. This was not like before. He had not unleashed his
full fury upon her when he took her the last time, and yet this felt perfectly right to her. Like coming home. Never had she allowed herself to lose herself so completely and with such abandon, so that all she knew was the pleasure he gave her and her overwhelming love for him. Large hands bruised her tender skin as he rammed into her again and again, hands that she knew could be deadly, and yet for her, those hands were sanctuary. "Take everything..." she finally managed to gasp. "Make me pay for it all..."

Sandor pulled Alayne's head back by the hair, forcing her soulful dove-like eyes to meet his dark pointed glare. "I'm a man of my word, girl. Tomorrow when that smirking bastard puts his hands on you, it will be me you'll still be feeling inside you!" Clegane practically bellowed with frustration, dragging his weakened prey out of the bathroom, and shoving Alayne face down on the master bed. The way the girl struggled and grasped at the fancy silken sheets only inflamed the Hound's brutal passions as he mounted her from behind, spearing his hard cock back inside that wet embrace. Clegane yanked aggressively on Alayne's full hips, repeatedly pulling her smaller feminine frame under his masculine body, pumping like he wanted to break the girl apart, before he exploded in release.

There was nothing but him, the power of him, his brute strength, manipulating her, bending her to his will. Sandor offered her no mercy, pounding his anger into her, staking his claim. She knew that his anger stemmed from a deep, furious love that neither of them could explain, yet nor could they deny it. She clawed at the bed sheets, trying to gain purchase, but he would not allow her even the slightest bit of stability, his need to control her body was so deep, so primal. Tears streamed down her cheeks, not of sorrow, but relief. She needed him. As he groaned his release, her body convulsed in his vice-like grip and she screamed for him as he continued to thrust savagely through his climax, her own pleasure ascending to heights previously unimagined. Her every sense was heightened and she could smell the scent of their combined fluids and their sweat, mingling with the bluebells. Hot blood from the Hound's wounded hand trickled down her thigh as she panted, going limp in his iron grip. Sorrow washed over her then; she'd already begun to feel the loss of him before he'd even let her go. "Oh Gods, please don't leave me..." Alayne gasped, her heart twisting in her chest, unable to comprehend how someone so near could feel so far away.

“Where would I be going?” Sandor snapped with a flicker of anger, flipping Alayne to face him as he pulled out and ran his hands up that quivering body. “Unless you…yes, you, drove me away in madness!” The Dog let his dirty paws encircle the girl’s fragile neck, ready to squeeze the life out of his obsession if only to quell the confusing thoughts swirling in his mind. Clegane brought his sneering ruined face closer and licked a few tears off her soft cheek, tasting the salt on his tongue with a soft growl. “If you ever bear another man’s pups, I will kill him with these hands. Do you understand, girl? I will murder your precious Petyr right in front of your eyes and I'll enjoy it.” Sandor grinned coldly, pushing himself away with one final lingering glance over Alayne in her state of undress, ravaged and left weeping upon the bed. He yanked his pants back on and wrapped a towel around his cut hand, pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding as he waited for the girl to recover her breath and respond to his demands.

Stunned into a weakened silence, she struggled to rise, her arms quivering as she tried to push herself up to face him. How could he ask this of her? He owns me.  She understood, and she was not sorry to come to the realization, and yet she was frightened. Her love for Petyr had not diminished, so how could she love this man so completely? "Sandor..." she whispered, wondering if she'd ever spoken his name aloud before. "I... " Alayne paused, trying to corral her thoughts into something that might make even a small amount of sense. "Our situation is complicated... we both belong to him. But I can't deny you what you ask. It isn't that I don't love him..." The tears still flowed and her breath caught in a sob as she tried to go on speaking. "But my soul belongs to you ... I don't know how I know it, but I feel you in every pore of my body, and in the darkest corners of my mind. I... remember you."

"Are you speaking to me in riddles now, girl?" the Hound scoffed, tossing the bloody hand towel onto the ruined bathroom rug, then rolling it all up to dispose of along with the shards of glass. Sandor turned back around to face her, wishing he could be one of those romantic men, suave and dashing like Baelish, and able to take Alayne into his arms to hold through the night. But instead, his animalistic need was raw and powerful. Clegane wanted to fuck her again and again, until only his name alone spilled from Alayne's lips and not Petyr's. "If that's how you feel, girl, then don't test me. Somehow I will find a way to free us both and then you're coming with me whether you wish to or not." Sandor leaned down and gave her another hard kiss, sucking on Alayne's lower lip as he pulled away. "Next time, I will have you on your knees, sucking me off, princess. But best you clean up now, before the Mockingbird returns home." The Hound cocked a dark grin, exiting the master bedroom, knowing no matter how hard she scrubbed herself clean, Alayne would never get the scent of him off of her again.