The Snow Keep

After Ramsay had left for Winterfell, Gregor took a long shower, ice cold, hoping the chilled temperature would cool off his rising lust. As the soothing liquid rained down over chiseled, sculpted but tense muscles, the Mountain growled with a low, ominous tone. He stroked a hard, full erection with a soapy hand, while erotic thoughts of the two females filled his mind, making him dizzy with desire. He couldn't believe the Bastard of Bolton had granted his request so easily, and he wondered how long Ramsay had planned for such an event. His friend knew him better then anyone when it came to the monsters that lived inside them. The dark and dangerous part of him was starved for prey, and for once, Gregor wasn't suppressing his need. Clegane pumped himself to completion, washing away the hot seed from his thick fingers before stepping out of the shower. He felt a bit more under control with the sexual release, but he knew that would only be temporary. The women had no idea wh...

A lone figure staggered through an overgrown pathway, wandering past several rows of crumbling tombstones under the soft moonlight. The drunken man stumbled but caught his balance along the way, spitting out vile curses as he held onto a bottle of half consumed liquor. A pack of hungry wolves howled in the distance, but he paid them no mind while making his way towards the dilapidated monastery. The worn down steps creaked under his bulky weight and the front doors groaned as they were opened and closed. Once inside the chapel, the Hound made his way towards a middle pew and sat down, staring up at the empty altar, framed by intricate stained glass. Ambient light illuminated the sermon podium, covered in dust and a mass of spiderwebs. It had been years since the old, but dutiful priest had given voice to the will of God and the purpose of man. But Sandor Clegane could still remember the kindly soul that had given a beaten young dog shelter and a chance at redemption. Any time he n...

Oblivious to the plans being made by their men, the two girls spent the afternoon in Melly's dressing room, sorting through her wardrobe in order to temporarily outfit Arya. Normally, Ramsay had all of Arya's clothing meticulously chosen by elite personal shoppers before making the final decisions himself. For now, however, Gregor was allowing no visitors to enter, or even approach, his fortress. The cleaning staff, gardeners, even the chef who came in from town five days a week to prepare their dinners, all had been put on hold until he and Ramsay deemed it safe again.  Melly knew this was the best way to proceed. She'd been on edge since Sandor Clegane had breached the gates of their home and forced his way into the house. If she had to cook more often and clean the house for a little while, she didn't mind. Before she'd come into Ramsay's possession, she'd had to take care of these kinds of everyday things for herself.  The house was so vast that she an...

"Come on, you damn pussy. That's all you got?" Gregor prodded with a dark laced humor, talking over the death metal playing on the sound system and the repetitive clanking of heavy weights. "You're never going to get any better with everyone babying your pale ass. What would your father say if he saw you this weak?" The Bastard's only reply was the fury building behind a pair of ice blue eyes. "Yeah... that's what I thought. Give me ten more and then you can stop for today. This basic routine is hardly even a warm up for myself." Gregor smirked, boastfully as Ramsay gritted his teeth, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, while the bastard pushed through a final set of leg lifts that had his muscles burning with fire and screaming in agony. “Fuck…You... Asshole!" He spat out curses with the final thud of the weights, wondering why in the seven Hells he had ever agreed to let Clegane be his physical therapist. "You're the s...

"Petyr… My sweet Petyr…" Littlefinger heard someone rousing him from a deep sleep. For a moment, he hoped it was Alayne’s naked body curling up next to him, running her hand over his bare chest, tracing the faint birthmark pattern. Baelish had always teased her that it was an old scar from his days as a knight. A chivalrous fool for the love of an unreachable princess. How he despised such fairytales, for even now they mocked his grand ambitions. There was no honor to be had when one played fair. "My sleepy Petyr… I know how to wake you up." Petyr felt the shift in the bed's mattress as the persistent female moved and straddled his hips, her hand curling around his flaccid penis, stroking enough firmness into the shaft so she could penetrate herself. She gave a sultry cry and rode him eagerly, while he laid there with feigned interest, barely acknowledging her presence, only reaching up to squeeze her breast. The woman cried louder ...

Melly remained in the kitchen, keeping herself busy peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables, trying to let the mundane tasks of dinner preparation occupy her mind. She would get through this, just as she'd endured everything else that life had put in her path. As she worked, she could hear the deep rumble of Gregor's voice coming from the direction of his office. He must have been on a call, she thought, as Ramsay and Arya had retired to the guest suite upstairs. Once she'd gotten the dinner underway, she let the dogs in from the garden and fed them their meals. Isis, the tiny kitten, stuck her head into the dogs' bowls as they ate, but they just nosed her aside and continued eating. Melly scooped up the kitten and brought her to where her own dish was waiting for her, praising the dogs for their patience with the naughty little creature. It amazed her how these animals, who would rip out a man's throat if provoked, could be so gentle with the little cat. In t...

"I still don't understand why you want to stay here for the weekend," Gregor grumbled while typing away on his computer, searching through a blacklist of secure military grade dog breeders. He needed a batch of suitable puppies to replace the dogs that had been killed at Ramsay Bolton's compound. "I'm tired of being fussed over," Ramsay replied with an annoyed glare. "The Bastard Boys are acting like a bunch of mother hens, and even with my pet's delicious mouth around my cock for comfort, being stuck in bed all day has lost its appeal. I want new scenery and time away with Arya. Besides, what do you care? You got plenty of room in this place to host some company." "I wouldn't have minded if you had at least given me a call first and asked, Bastard. I doubt Melly finds your presence comforting, even if you did bring the girl along for socializing. But you need to quit leering at my wife before I gouge your eyes out with my thumbs....