Chapter Text
When Queens Misbehave 1
Sandor Clegane had had enough. It was one thing to be the sworn shield – as well as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard – of one Sansa fucking Stark, the Queen in the North; it was another to let her make a fool of him in front of her small council by telling him that he couldn't bloody well lead a party against a group of unruly wildlings that had started raiding the surrounding small villages and holdfasts.
“What do you mean I can't lead a party to stop those buggering wildlings from harassing your own people,” he snarled at her when they were alone in her room.
It was well-known in Winterfell that the former Lannister Hound was bedding and pleasuring their queen almost every night. They never made a secret of it and even if they'd tried, their lovemaking was often so loud that it was impossible for anyone not to know they were lovers. In fact, it was the worst-kept secret in the whole castle.
Sansa looked up at him fiercely and showed him her perfect white teeth, blue eyes blazing with fury. Fuck she's beautiful when she's angry, he thought wildly. A real Stark wolf.
“Because I need you besides me, that's why.” She spat back in his face. “You can let Ibben lead the party against the wildlings. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”
Sandor was furious. “I'm not a child to be told what to do. I’m the Commander of your Queensguard as well as your sworn shield. It's my bloody duty, my lady, to make sure you are safe, or have you forgotten it was your idea to turn me into your buggering Lord Commander against my will in the first place?”
Sansa walked up to him, hands on her hips, her red face raised up to his in pure defiance. Sandor was glowering at her so hard he felt his gaze could bloody well pierce right through her.
“I have not forgotten it, my lord. It is you who is forgetting yourself. As the Lord Commander of my Queensguard you are to remain by my side at all times. I am your queen and I refuse to let you lead that mission. I need you here besides me,” she threatened him pointedly.
“Stop calling me your bloody lord. You know I hate it when you call me that, little bird,” he growled, his voice thick with menace. “And what in the seven hells are you so fucking afraid of? I am a trained warrior, a fucking killer, my lady, and while these are dangerous men and women out there, I’m the real terror here. I'll take a party of armed men with me and we'll kill them all. End of problem.”
Sandor was now inches away from Sansa's face, his head bowed low to look her deep in the eyes, the burnt-side of his face twitching madly as he almost roared his last words to her.
“I don't care. Ibben will go and that's the end of it,” Sansa replied coldly, her tone as cold as the winter ices that now covered the north.
Sandor was now so close to her face he could smell her breath . . . lemon cakes and sweet mint mingling together into one unholy alliance. “Oh no, he won’t,” he growled low in his throat. “He's a bloody idiot.”
“No he's not. He's as capable as you. You just want to go yourself because you're bored, and I don't want you to get killed just because you don't know what to do with yourself.”
Sansa smirked at him, her nose now almost touching his as she stood on tiptoe, her eyes glazed over with fury and . . . something else Sandor couldn't quite put his finger on.
They had never really rowed like that before, never had a fight like they were having now. But if she wanted to act like a spoiled highborn lady, Sandor would give her a lesson in humility.
Grabbing Sansa roughly by the arm, making her gasp in surprise and pain, Sandor dragged her with him to the large bed in the middle of the room.
He sat himself heavily on the edge of the feathered mattress and pulled her over his lap so she was lying on her stomach over his thighs, dragging up her skirts well over her back, exposing her exquisite bottom to him.
Fuck, she's not wearing any smallclothes. Sandor's cock suddenly jumped at the sight of Sansa's smooth white arse cheeks exposed to his eyes. But he was too angry to stop and register his sudden excitement at seeing her naked and exposed like that, her pink cunt slightly showing through curls of red hair when he fully expected her to wear something underneath her skirts.
“What are you doing?” Sansa almost screamed, furious.
Slap!
Without thinking, Sandor's huge large hand slapped Sansa's perfect arse in one sudden move. Not too hard – he didn't want to hurt her. But the act made them both freeze in complete surprise and shock.
Sandor hadn't really wanted to slap her like a parent disciplining a child. She was his queen, his lover for the Seven's sake's! But she had infuriated him so much he'd completely lost his wits.
His hand was still on Sansa's arse when a heavy pang of remorse hit him, and it suddenly felt very warm against her skin –almost as if it were on fire – when he heard her moan. She fucking moaned.
“Do it again,” she panted underneath him.
“What?” he rasped dazedly, suddenly breathing hard. Was it him or did the room suddenly begin to feel very warm?
“Spank me again!” she squirmed against his thighs, her head turned towards him with a look of unmistakable arousal on her face, biting her lower lip with her teeth, making his cock suddenly harden underneath her writhing body.
He was dimly aware that her breasts were pressed against his right leg and that her cunt had suddenly moistened under his hand, making his cock strain against his breeches, creating a sudden, unbidden surge of pleasure in him.
Sandor's hand started stroking her smooth bottom in light circles and then Slap! He spanked her again, making her moan through gritted teeth.
“Yesss...” she hissed, squirming harder over him, rubbing his cock with her every movement. “More, I want more.”
“Gods!” He groaned, suddenly breathless and aroused beyond belief, his cock throbbing painfully against his breeches.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
Sansa moaned every time his hand slapped her arse cheeks, dazedly aware that her cunt was getting some friction with each slap, making her wetter and wetter each time. Even if he was refraining from hurting her, the smooth white skin of her arse had become a deeper shade of pink.
Sansa had stopped moving. She was panting and breathing hard, almost lying limp over his legs. She raised her head again and looked back at him, cheeks red in arousal, auburn hair in complete disarray and trailing on the stone floor, eyes glazed over and pupils blown. Sandor's cock was now so hard he started to feel himself leaking through his woollen breeches, making him moan like a bloody maiden.
“Fuck me with your hand,” Sansa demanded, half-moaning half-commanding while she pushed her arse up towards his hand.
Sandor just obeyed her and shoved three of his big fingers up her very wet cunt, filling her up with his long and large digits, making her moan louder. “Yes, yes, fuck me.”
“Seven hells,” he groaned, too dazed to think and started fucking her hard with his fingers, pumping them in and out of her wetly. Fuck this was so exciting. He wanted to rub himself over his breeches but with Sansa lying over his lap like that he couldn't possibly manage to reach his hard aching member.
Thankfully, Sansa seemed to sense his need for some blessed friction and pleasure too and squirmed again over him, managing to twist her right arm and roam her hand over the hard bulge in his pants. Palming his hard cock, she started rubbing him over his clothes, making him groan deeply.
They just stood there; Sandor fucking Sansa hard with his hand while she was stroking the length of his engorged member almost desperately over his clothes, making his pleasure coil from his cock to his balls and sending goose bumps up and down his spine.
Sandor could feel his release coming hard and fast with the sight of his little bird bent over his knees like that: her skirts dragged high up over her sweet arse, the wet sound of his fingers fucking into her, her rubbing his throbbing, aching cock with a force he hadn't known she possessed, making him soar on pure pleasure while the blissful sensation he was feeling in his cock and his balls threatened to surge outwards all over his body. Bloody hells! Shit, I’m going to come soon.
Sansa's moans had now almost turned into small cries of pleasure and he realized that she had managed to reach her nub with her other hand and that she was frigging herself off at the same time.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, he was nearing! This was too good, too bloody exciting.
“Sansa,” He growled, head bowed down in a ragged exhale, his dark hair falling over his eyes. “Shit little bird don't stop, you're too fucking arousing like this . . . too good . . .”
“Spank me again!” she whimpered. “NOW!”
Too aroused for any coherent thought, he slipped his fingers wetly out of her cunt and gave her one last Slap! over her arse and Sansa suddenly wailed as she reached her peak, her body convulsing over his thighs while she rubbed him harder over his clothes, making him slam into a release so powerful he saw stars exploding behind his eyelids.
Sandor felt his seed spurt hot and fast and wet into his breeches, making him breathe hard in overwhelming, shuddering pleasure, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
They stood there for long minutes, unmoving, breathing heavily against each other, the both of them slowly coming down from their powerful climax.
“Fuck Sansa, that was amazing.”
Sansa was already getting up from Sandor's lap with all the dignity that was left to her. He saw she was still dizzy from the spanking, the finger fucking, and the all-around strange sexual thing they had just done together.
“Well thank you, my l . . . Sandor.” She said, smoothing her skirts down with her beautiful soft hands.
“Now, where were we again? Oh yes, you're not going.” Making Sandor glare murderously at his bloody queen again.