25.9.12

Bolton Rising - Part 20 - Sandor & Alayne

Sandor: Petyr Baelish had been gone now for several days. A business trip overseas, securing rights to some ancient castle left behind in a will from a deceased relative. Why that smirking, smug ass wanted such a thing, was beyond him. It sounded like a ruined shit hole, but Baelish had said the land alone was worth a fortune, and money always called to the Mockingbird. The Hound turned his thoughts away from such trivial matters and turned his dark gaze upon his own responsibilities. Watching over Alayne Stone, the boss's pretty Little Bird. She was fluttering around the penthouse now in nothing but short shorts and a loose tank, headphones in her ears, dancing to some pop tune and driving him mad with thoughts of her naked body bent over the yacht railing from days past. He could still hear her soft sexual cries in the wind as he laid in his own bed at night, stroking his hard cock, groaning as he imagined her spread wide to take him. 
 Alayne: Alayne wonders what her bodyguard is thinking about, his dark brooding stare gives her no indication of what goes on inside of his head. He frightens most people, but he's always been kind to her. Kind, in his way, which is rough and a bit awkward. She glances at him again. He's so big, he makes the couch look small, as he sits, legs stretched out before him, booted feet crossed. She goes to the kitchen for a Perrier, finds a bottle of beer and returns to the Hound. Pulling the headphones from her ears, she places her iPod on the end table and stands in front of you, holding out the beer Here. I thought you might like this. she watches your eyes run over her and a lone butterfly flutters in her tummy as she notices, not for the first time, how you've somehow grown handsome to her. She flops down on the couch beside you 
Sandor: I shouldn't be drinking on the job, girl. A hint of amusement touches his lips, popping the beer cap off with a flick of his thumb before taking a long swig. His eyes stare at the low scoop of your tank for a moment, admiring the shape of your breasts before returning his gaze back to the zombie flick on the big screen TV. He could relate to the lone sheriff riding on his trusted horse, down a lonely abandoned road, towards the unknown. "After tomorrow, you won't have to keep me company anymore. The boss will be back and the club renovations should be done. You can return to the stage and sing." 
Alayne: "I like having a break from singing every now and then. Its nice to relax, isn't it? And who says I don't want to keep you company?" She turns to you, smiling. "You're company isn't so bad, you know. I like the way you don't try to make me talk like most people do. It's nice to just be quiet with you." Watching you drink, your big hand making the bottle look so small. "You're watching zombies? I'm not very brave. Not at all, really!" She shivers a little. "Should we turn off the lights? It would be even scarier that way..." She hops up and switches the lights off, the flickering light of the television now the only thing illuminating the room. 
 Sandor: The Hound narrows his eyes in the darkness, glaring at you as you hit the lights, thinking how easily you just wiped away his safety net. "That isn't necessary." he growls, setting his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and scooting a little bit further towards the end corner of the sofa. He is trying to put some distance between you and him, as your scent arouses his senses and tightens his jeans.

 Alayne: "But it's ever so much more fun to be scared in the dark... Nothing scares you though, I'm sure, not even Zombies." Alayne puts her drink on the table and curls up in the middle of the couch, unconsciously closing some of the distance. "Do you ever get scared? Everything scares me. Zombies most of all." She squeals as the hero has a close call on the big screen and scoots closer to you. 
Sandor: Why should I be afraid of something that doesn't exist? He grunts back, turning his head to watch you enjoying the show. His eyes raking over your bare legs, those tiny shorts riding up over your ass and giving him a view that has him clearing his throat. You can stretch your legs out if you want, he mutters before catching himself and clenching his jaw tightly, tension suddenly strumming him hard. 
 Alayne: "Do you mind? I'm stiff from the gym. I hate to work out, ever so much." Stretching out beside you, she rests her head on your thigh. "You don't mind my using you as a pillow, do you? Not that you're very soft, your leg is like a rock!" She wiggles to get comfortable, her tank riding low on her chest as she settles. She isn't conscious of her charms, she only knows she feels something pulling her closer to you. She suddenly remembers a dream she'd had. A dream about you. Her cheeks burn and she pushes the thought to the back of her mind. "I wish we had some popcorn. Shall we order Chinese in a little while?" She chatters at you, trying not to think, trying not to watch the monsters on the screen too closely." 
Sandor: The Hound's fingers dig into the sofa cushions as you lay your head on him, your soft auburn hair spilling over his thighs like water. Your voice clouds his mind as a hot rush of arousal flows through his entire body, making him groan softly as the zombie horde on screen do the same. "Alayne... this..." He can't help himself as his hand comes down and starts stroking your hair. Fingers combing through your soft locks, curling a loose end over your ear, his index finger shaping the contours of your face in profile. 
 Alayne: Your fingers in her hair feel surprising and wonderful. Suddenly she needs you to touch her, so desperately. And yet, not suddenly. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't felt this inexplicable desire to be close to you for a long time. Her dream. And yet not just her dream. She sighs as your finger touches her skin, her body tingles all over and she closes her eyes. "Yes... Sandor?" She says very quietly, aware of her nipples hardening beneath her tank top and goose bumps forming on her skin. She opens her eyes, glancing at the screen as a horde of zombies begin to tear a horse to pieces. "Ohhh!" She cries out, upset, and without thinking, she buries her face in your lap. 
Sandor: He sucks in a breath and fists a handful of your hair, pulling your face upwards to meet his fierce glare. "What are you doing to me girl?" He growls hotly, before crushing his lips down upon yours, silencing your protest as his tongue slides between your parted lips, taking your breath as his own. 
Alayne: Gasps as you pull her up roughly, shocked at the way she'd forgotten herself, surprised at your ferocity. As your mouth covers hers, she accepts you without protest, sliding a hand behind your neck, cupping your face with the other. She feels a surge of wetness between her thighs, and the little ache that's been growing deep inside of her suddenly fills her whole body with an unquenchable thirst. Blood rushes to her nipples, hardening them to stiff, painful peaks as she moans into your kiss. 
 Sandor: The Hound growls with a deep rumble, sucking on your lower lip as he pulls away, staring into your eyes. He sees something inside you he doesn't quite understand, but he knows he wants it for his own. He says nothing as he he moves and rolls you under him, that huge frame covering you, his Little Bird, locked between his arms, his dark eyes so intense with emotion, never once breaking his stare. "I feel... something... for you girl." he cups your face with his lightly scarred hand, your skin so soft and warm against his palm. 
Alayne: She is shaking all over, needing you. Your closeness is intoxicating and she whimpers softly as she stares back into your eyes. She's not afraid of you. "I want this... I feel so much for you... I have for so long..." You want her too.... for this she is so grateful... "I dreamed of you..." She needs to be devoured by you. "What is it... something draws me to you, something I can't explain..." She reaches up to touch your face, surprised for a second that it's not rough and pitted beneath her fingers. But she's never known you to be that way... "It's like... you know me..." 
 Sandor: "I know you. You're mine." He growls like an animal, fisting your tank top and ripping it straight down the middle, baring your breasts to his hungry mouth, his hands palming them roughly, squeezing the soft globes and rolling the nipples between his fingers. The Hound moves between your thighs, grinding his hardness against you, letting you feel how full and thick he is, before his mouth comes down to capture a hardened peak, suckling on you as his hands roam over your body, touching you with a known possessiveness. 
 Alayne: She can feel tears prickling in her eyes. How can this be? Nothing has ever felt so right to her in her whole life. She loves Petyr so much... but the intensity of her feeling for you burns inside of her, as though something long suppressed has finally awakened. "Yes..." she breathes, knowing that it's true. She lifts her hips, wrapping her legs around you, grinding into your erection, opening herself wide to you. Burying her hands in your hair, she moans as your mouth covers her aching nipple and she trails a hand down your neck, digging her fingernails into your back. "Please don't let me go..."
 Sandor: He bites the underside of your breast in response to your words, needing to mark you, so you won't ever forget him and the way he owns your body. "Alayne..." the Hound groans, the name feels wrong for you, almost bitter on his tongue, but he doesn't understand why. The answer eludes him for the moment, but he has you now right where he needs you... and he's not stopping... He rears up, a massive wall of masculinity, kneeling between your thighs and popping the button open on your shorts a little too hard. The metal nub flies off and rolling across the floor. 
 Alayne: Your teeth sinking into her soft flesh sends a surge of pleasure shooting through her entire body. She reaches down to push at the material of her shorts, needing to bare herself to you, lifting her hips as you rip the shorts roughly down and over her thighs. Her wetness is beginning to seep through the fine white silk of her panties and she shows you, parting her thighs for you again. "Sandor..." your name is like a prayer, a husky whisper on her lips... it comes easily, as though she's spoken it this way many times before. Her hand skims over her stomach and rests over her heart for a moment, as it pounds so hard, she thinks it might burst. 
 Sandor: He runs a hand over his face and jaw, peering down at you spread for him, his mouth watering in anticipation of ripping that sheer fabric off and tasting you. His cock throbs in the close confines of his dark jeans, wanting to spear you and make you cry out his name. The need to fuck you is urgent and demanding. "Little Bird..." he speaks easier, that nickname cleansing his palette as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and yank them off. Your glistening wet folds revealed to him cause him rumble with a heated growl. 
Alayne: "Hurry..." She breathes, her eyes blurring, then clearing again. Looking up at you she feels sure that her dream was really a memory. "Touch me... or... I'll die..." She gasps, rolling her hips, tilting her pelvis up toward you. She reaches up toward you, her need is so strong. 
 Sandor: His hands slide up your creamy thighs, spreading and pinning them down, watching as your core grows wetter, feeling like he's going to lose control over your desperate need. The Hound moves his hands under you and lifts your hips up into the air, bringing that sweet offering to his lips just as his phone starts to ring. He turns his head towards the offending sound, glaring as the device keeps ringing, knowing it can only be one person who would be calling this late at night. The time difference between here and there. "Fuck it all!" he grunts, letting you go and stomping towards the kitchen, snatching the cell phone off the counter and answering with a tense tone.  Alayne: The ring of the phone sending her plummeting back to reality "Nooo... no...." She moans softly, choking back a sob.... She knows it must be Petyr and tears begin to spill down her cheeks. Struggling to a sit, she curls up, naked, her head in her hands. guilt washes over her in a huge sickening wave. She loves Petyr so deeply, and yet you.... She needs you, needs to belong to you... the thoughts swirl around her head until she's dizzy. 
 Sandor: "She fell asleep on the sofa watching a movie. Yes... of course. Right." He hangs up and turns to look at you, he sighs and walks back, grabbing his coat off the side armchair and wrapping it around your shoulders. "It's not your fault girl. It was me. I should have stopped things sooner. Go to bed now. Baelish will be heading home tomorrow." The Hound gives you one final tender look before that steel hardness returns to his face and he stalks off to his own room, needing a hot shower and some relief. 
 Alayne: She feels sick. Empty. "No, you shouldn't have stopped..." She whispers after you, tears flowing freely. Alayne walks slowly to the bedroom, climbing into bed, still wrapped in your coat, breathing you in. The tears flow for a long, long time. Finally she drifts off and her dreams are filled with war and fire, and you leaving her again and again.

2 comments:

  1. OMG NOOOOO!!!! Don't stop now!!!! *SOBS* This is SOOO sexy!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you! There will be more to come!
      -alayne

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