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“Ugh! Worst. Date. Ever!” The little shit’s sister waltzed up to their table and pointed at the glass sitting between Sandor and Arya, “That whiskey?” she asked her sister.
Arya shook her head, “Tequila.”
“Screw it,” Sansa downed the rest of the drink – Sandor’s drink – in one pull and shuddered afterwards, “That’s how bad this night has been.”
“Wow, you hate tequila,” Arya responded flatly, “That was Sandor’s, by the way.”
Sansa’s eyes went wide as she turned to look at him, “I’m so sorry!”
“No problem, I only had to wait twenty minutes for the waitress to bring it,” he snipped back. He wasn’t sure why he was always snippy with her. Well, he was snippy with everyone, but she brought out the worst in him. Thankfully she wasn’t part of their group, just something of an honorary member since she was Arya’s sister and because she’d occasionally helped to make or alter the costumes for their LARP group. Sandor still didn’t know why he was a part of it; it was nerdy as fuck. The first time he joined was because he lost a bet to Tormund. Sandor had grumbled the whole time as he participated with as little enthusiasm as humanly possibly. But at the end of the day he’d realized he enjoyed something about the comradery and anonymity – since his character always wore a helm. Even when he took it off the other players, who were medieval junkies, found his scars fascinating instead of frightening. He could cosplay without wearing makeup, and they said that like they were jealous.
“Sorry, I’ll get you another,” Sansa turned and disappeared.
Good luck with that. Bar is fucking packed.
Two minutes later Sansa appeared with another tequila for him and some type of clear fizzy cocktail for herself.
“How did you get these so fast?” he asked as she handed him his drink.
“It’s called a smile,” she grinned down at him.
“It’s called cleavage,” Arya grumbled beside her.
Sansa huffed, “Scooch over so I can sit.”
Arya frowned, “No way, find your own chair, your hips are too wide.”
Sansa glared down at her, “Now why do you always bring up things I’m self-conscious about?”
Arya shrugged, “Nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t you remember what Grandma Tully used to say?”
Sansa rolled her eyes as she used her hips – which were a work of art, in Sandor’s opinion – to nudge her sister over, “How can I forget? I was traumatized for years after that.”
Arya giggled, “You gotta tell Gendry that story.”
“He won’t get it, Arya.”
“Yes, he will. Tell him.”
Gendry – Arya’s boyfriend – pried his eyes away from Tormund’s animated tale to look at the sisters, “What story?”
“It’s not even a story!” Sansa threw her hands up as she looked at her sister, “A story involves things happening. Like Rick face-planting in the driveway when you dared him he couldn’t ride his bike down the windshield of Mom’s car.”
Arya laughed, “You’re right, that is a story. But the hips story is funny too. Come on, tell him.”
Sansa huffed so forcefully a stray lock of hair drifted away from her forehead then floated back down again, “When I was sixteen I was all beside myself because I didn’t have boobs yet, so our Grandma Tully tried to cheer me up by saying I had good ‘birthing hips’.”
Gendry stared at them for a beat before shaking his head, “That’s the story? Sorry Arya but Sansa’s right – that’s a shite story.”
“That’s not the whole story,” Arya elbowed Sansa in the ribs.
“Ow, why are your elbows so pointy? Ugh, anyway, Grandma proceeded to tell me that big men would subconsciously be attracted to me because I had good hips for bearing their enormous children.”
Gendry shrugged, “Okay, that’s a little funny, I guess…”
“She’s not done,” Arya giggled.
Sansa sighed, “So I asked her why that mattered, and she said it was because – oh God, this is so embarrassing to say – ugh… she said it’s because a long body meant a long… manhood.”
“She said cock,” Arya corrected bluntly.
“Yes, she did,” Sansa nodded, “then she nodded her head toward our grandpa who was asleep in the recliner and winked at me. We only knew him as a shriveled up old man but apparently in his prime he was like, six-two.”
“And that’s how we learned that our Pop-Pop was hung like a horse. The end.”
Gendry rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh but was unsuccessful.
“You know, I don’t think she was right though…” Arya said to no one in particular.
“What do you mean?” Sansa asked after taking a sip of her cocktail.
“Well Gendry is only 5’10” and he’s got a nice long cock.”
Gendry’s face turned the color of a beet, “Arya!” he scolded through clenched teeth.
“What? It’s a compliment.”
“I don’t want your sister knowing… ugh, forget it.”
“Hey Clegane,” Arya leaned across her sister to get his attention, unaware that he’d been listening to every word of their conversation, “How big is your cock?”
“ARYA!” Sansa screeched.
“What?” Arya shrugged, “He’s like six-seven, so if he doesn’t have a proportionally big cock it proves that good ol’ Minisa wasn’t right.”
Sansa buried her face in her hands, “I should have just gone home. This is the worst night of my life.”
“So the date was that bad?”
Thank God Arya had the attention span of a gnat, because Sandor couldn’t even fathom how to get himself out of answering her previous question.
“It was horrible,” Sansa moaned, “He talked about his car the entire time. I changed the subject five times, and he kept finding ways to bring the conversation back to his car. It would have been admirable if it wasn’t so bloody annoying.”
Beric leaned across the table, apparently having been eavesdropping just as much as Sandor, “You know that men who brag about their cars are just trying to compensate for something.”
“Ooh – was he short or tall, San?” Arya chirped.
“He was average, I guess. Ugh, but such a tool. I even tried talking about football. I don’t even like football, but I mentioned something I saw on my news feed about the Kings signing that bigshot player from the Vipers. I figured every guy likes to talk about football, right?”
Arya shrugged, “I guess.”
“Well it didn’t work,” Sansa crossed her arms, “It led to him talking about another player on another team who – get this – drives the same kind of car as him.”
Everyone chuckled. By then all other conversation had ceased and everyone was listening to Sansa. She had that effect on people with her dulcet voice that contradicted the acerbic way she often spoke. She was the darling of their group – to everyone but Sandor, of course. He tried to limit his interactions with her since the first time they met, and she had looked like she wanted to scream and run away. Since then she’d always been pleasant enough to him, and never looked at his scars in a way that made him feel self-conscious, but first impressions weighed heavily for Sandor.
“So did you fuck him?” Arya inquired casually.
“Why would I sleep with someone who spent ninety minutes talking about his Aston Martin?”
“Aston Martin!” Gendry’s eyes went wide, “Sansa that dude is loaded.”
“So what?”
“Soooo…” Tormund circled his hand in the air, “Why not put up with carboy for a few months, get yourself some sparkly things out of the deal?”
Sansa huffed, “I can buy my own sparkly things, thank you very much.”
Arya shook her head, “So the quest continues?”
Sansa waved a hand dismissively, “I’m tired of the quest. I think I’ll just become a spinster. I already like to knit. And I love cats.”
“Yeah, and you drive like an old lady.”
“Only compared to you, ya little speed demon.”
“And you make really good pies and cookies. And you have a bathrobe for every season. And you watch Jeopardy. Holy crap – you already are a spinster!”
“Wait,” Brienne leaned forward to look at Sansa, pressing her giant hands on the table, “You can’t find a boyfriend? If I can find a boyfriend, and Arya can find a boyfriend, you should have no problem.”
Arya snorted, “Gee thanks… and anyway Sansa isn’t just looking for any boyfriend, her criteria is much more specific.”
Brienne shrugged her lips, “Like what?”
“Arya…” Sansa growled in caution.
Arya – no surprise – ignored her sister, “Well, he has to be taller than her – so at least six feet tall.”
Brienne rolled her eyes, “Lots of guys are that height or taller.”
“Right, but he also needs to make her laugh…”
Tormund grinned, “I’m six-three and I make her laugh.” Brienne smacked him hard in the chest.
“And he needs to be able to make her cum so hard she forgets her own name.”
Sandor chose the wrong moment to sip his drink. He coughed and sputtered as the tequila burned everything from his sinuses down to his esophagus.
Sansa’s face was as red as her hair and she looked at Arya with an absolutely murderous glare, “I am never telling you anything ever again.”
Arya shrugged and faced Brienne again, “See, Sansa has this problem—”
“Arya! God, you make it sound like a medical condition!”
“Anyway,” Arya rolled her eyes, “She’s never had an orgasm during sex.”
Thank God Sandor hadn’t taken another sip. He was sympathy blushing for the poor girl – and he never felt sympathetic for anyone.
Brienne shrugged, “You mean during intercourse or also during foreplay?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Sandor growled, “Is this really what we’re going to talk about?”
Arya eyed him coolly. The little shit had never been intimidated by him even though she only came up to his sternum. “What’s the matter, dude? We’re all adults here.”
“I don’t want to hear about your sister’s sex life, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Oh my God, Arya, please shut up,” Sansa whined.
“Anyway, Brienne, to answer your question – neither.”
“Arya!!”
“Chill out, maybe Brienne can help. She’s wise as shit.”
Sansa stood up, “This is so humiliating. I am not having this conversation!” she grabbed her clutch from the table, spun, and headed toward the exit.
“Whatever!” Arya shouted at her back, “Guess I’ll just keep buying you batteries for your birthday!”
<<<<>>>>
“You think Sansa is hot, right?”
“What?” Sandor lowered his earbuds and looked up from the bike he was detailing to Arya, who was standing over him.
“My sister. She’s hot, right?”
“I guess,” Sandor shrugged, wondering why his cheeks felt warm.
“So you’d fuck her?”
“What the hell is this about?”
“Just answer the question.”
Sandor let out a put-upon sigh, “She’s fuckable, yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”
Arya held up a hand, “Okay, so we’ve got the first part sorted out. Now, tell me about your sexual history.”
“My what?”
“Your sexual encounters. With women. If you’ve ever fucked a dude I don’t need to know about it.”
“I don’t fuck dudes! And I’m not telling you about my sex life.”
“Alright, let’s back up a step. Do you have a sex life?”
Sandor rolled his eyes as he stood up, “What part of ‘I’m not telling you about my sex life’ did you not understand?”
“Look, I didn’t want to do this, but if you don’t answer all of my questions honestly, I’m going to be forced to tell Tormund what you said about Brienne two weeks ago.”
Sandor’s heart started beating quickly, knowing precisely what comment Arya was alluding to. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to play it cool, “So? I don’t care.”
Arya shrugged and turned to walk away while shouting, “Hey, Tormund?”
“Fuck,” Sandor groaned and reached out to pull her back. “Fine. Ask your bloody questions.”
“Tell me about your sex life.”
“What about it?”
“Are you involved with someone currently?”
“No?”
“When was the last time you had sex?”
Sandor shrugged, “I dunno… a year or so.”
“Really? Why so long?”
Sandor scowled at her, “You really need to ask that?”
“Dude, get over your insecurity already, you’re too old for that shit.”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“Yeah, and that’s really fucking old.”
Sandor rolled his eyes, “Whatever, are we done?”
“How many partners have you had?”
“What?”
“How many women have you fucked?”
“Like – ever? In my whole life?”
“No, at the same time, cause I know you have wild orgies every weekend.”
“Shut up, smart ass… I dunno how many women,” he shrugged, “Ten? A dozen, maybe?”
“That’s it?”
Sandor sighed, “Once again – fucked up face, permanent scowl, shite personality… what part of this aren’t you getting?”
“Fine, I’m going for quality over quantity here, anyway. Now, on a scale of 1 to 10, how satisfied are your sexual partners, on average?”
“Sorry, I don’t survey them afterwards.”
Arya let out a loud sigh, “This is like pulling teeth… how many have come back for seconds?”
Sandor shrugged, “Well most were kind of one-night stands and both of us knew that going into it. But the ones that were kind of like… I dunno, dates… all of them. So, three out of three.”
“Wow… I’m impressed. Next question: do you enjoy giving oral sex?”
Sandor closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose, “When the girl is into it, yeah.”
“And do you know where the clitoris is?”
Sandor glared at her with his best ‘are you fucking serious?’ expression.
“Fine,” she held her hands up, “and how is the clitoris best stimulated?”
“Fuck, girl! This is the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had, you know that?”
“Answer the question please.”
He shook his head, “Fine. It varies for every woman. Some like it to be circled, others like it rubbed back and forth, some like it to be sucked on.”
Arya nodded, “You’re doing great, just a few more questions…”
“Thank fuck.”
“Do you have any stamina issues?”
“Huh?”
“Well I didn’t want to phrase it this way, but have you been known to prematurely ejaculate?”
He crossed his arms, “It ain’t always a marathon, but I last long enough.”
“Alright, fair enough. Honestly, women don’t always want a marathon anyway. Personally, after my third orgasm I’m ready to just conk out.”
Sandor groaned, “Please stop talking.”
“Right, back to the matter at hand. Are you clean?”
“What, like, are you asking if I shower before sex?”
She rolled her eyes, “No I’m asking if you have any STDs.”
“Oh,” Sandor blushed again, “No. I mean no STDs, yes I’m clean.”
“Great. Last one… have you ever talked dirty to someone during sex?”
“Umm… I guess that depends on your definition of ‘talking dirty’…”
“I’m not talking about weird shit, just the normal stuff, like ‘God girl, you’re so wet’, or ‘come on baby, cum on my cock’, or ‘you’re so fucking sexy when you cum’. You know, that kinda stuff.”
“I’m not answering that question, and please don’t ever say any of those words to me again.”
Arya shrugged, “Alright, that was a longshot anyway. I just remember this one guy Sansa dated for a while was a dirty talker, and she told me she kinda liked it, but she still couldn’t cum, so it’s probably a moot point.”
“So that’s what this is? You want me to fuck your sister so she knows what it’s like to have a guy get her off?”
“Not yet. I have a few other candidates to interview first. I started with you because – no offense – I thought it was going to be a quick elimination. But now I need to talk to Beric and Pod, and what do you think of that guy Loras that works at the costume shop? Or that hot bartender at Cooper’s – I think his name is Harry?”
Sandor blinked at her, “Harry is a fucking ass-douche. And I’m pretty sure Loras is gay. And Pod? Seriously?”
“I know he totally looks like a baby bunny, but Gendry knows this guy Bronn who knows one of Pod’s ex-girlfriends and she swears Pod has, like, a magic tongue.”
“Ugh, I don’t wanna hear that shit. But hypothetically, if that were true, then Pod should be the obvious choice.”
“Yeah but he’s two inches shorter than Sansa and she says she can’t get horny for a guy who’s shorter than her. So that’s gonna be a problem. Actually, I was thinking of asking Brienne if she’d lend Tormund out – you know, like a public service kinda thing? She says he is an absolute animal in the sack.”
“Eww! Why do you keep telling me this shit? I’m not going to be able to look Tormund or Pod in the face for at least a month now… not to mention your fucking sister.”
“Whatever, it’s just sex. Anyway, I guess I’ll talk to Beric next. Sansa once told me she finds the eyepatch kind of sexy, so he might be the frontrunner.”
“She did?! I mean… she did?”
Arya snorted, “Yeah, but don’t feel bad, she said your hands are sexy too.”
“My hands?”
“Yeah, something about having fuckable fingers,” Arya stuck her tongue out, “It’s weird, but she finds guys with thin fingers to be a real turnoff, and not just due to the sexual implication.”
“So that’s it? My hands?”
Arya rolled her eyes, “Are you trying to ask if my sister thinks you’re hot?”
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“Fuck. Yeah, I guess I’m asking that. Only out of curiosity, though,” his cheeks felt warm again.
Arya sighed, “She said you’re hot in a dark and mysterious way, and that you have shoulders that women would start wars over. Satisfied?”
Yeah… I really fucking am.
<<<<>>>>
“Arya I’m not just going to fuck one of your friends just because you tell me to!”
“A – don’t ever call Sandor my friend again, B – he really likes you!”
“Look, I’ll admit he’s hot in a rough kind of way, but I don’t even know him and he always seems kind of… I dunno… he seems mean sometimes.”
“He’s always that way around pretty girls. It’s like a defense mechanism since he has been teased about his scars since he was a kid.”
“Ohhh…” Sansa chewed her lip.
“But he’s actually a good dude – don’t tell him I said that – and I heard through the grapevine that he knows his way around a woman’s body.”
“So he’s a player?”
“No, he hasn’t had sex in over a year. It was a while ago I heard this.”
“Why hasn’t he had sex in over a year?”
Arya shrugged, “Busy with work, ya know. Plus he’s a bit older than us so he’s not your typical frat-boy-gotta-get-laid-every-weekend type. And I think he’s selective about who he sleeps with.”
“So why would he sleep with me? He barely knows me.”
“I dunno, he just said he thinks you’re really pretty and smart and funny and he thinks you have the voice of an angel.”
Arya was making all this shit up, but knew her sister well enough to imagine what a guy might see in her.
Sansa looked unconvinced. Arya sighed and continued, “And a while ago all the guys were talking about boobs – ya know, because they’re guys – and Pod said something about some actress who has really big titties and Sandor said her boobs are too big. He said he cares about shape and symmetry more than size.”
“Exactly! Why doesn’t everyone else get that?!”
Arya rolled her eyes. Sansa had been self-conscious about her 34Bs forever. Arya didn’t really get why it should matter since Sansa had a slender figure and her pretty face more than compensated for any perceived bosom-deficits, but she supposed everyone was entitled to their irrational body issues.
“So you’ll fuck him?”
Sansa’s smile dropped away, “What? No! Arya, this is so stupid. If Sandor wants to date me then he should ask me out. Not use you as intermediary to set up some type of one-time hookup.”
Arya huffed in frustration, wondering why the hell she was wasting her time and energy on this foolhardy mission.
Oh yeah, it’s because I love my sister.
Fucking love. It’s so overrated.
“So if he did ask you, you’d say yes?”
Sansa thought about and then nodded confidently, “Yes.”
<<<<>>>>
“Alright, change of plans. You need to ask Sansa on a date.”
“What?”
“She won’t just fuck you. I guess she’s too good for that or something. But if you ask her out she’ll say yes.”
“Why do I feel like you’re setting me up to look like a fool?”
“I’m not. I promise she’ll say yes. Oh and if she mentions anything about how you think she’s pretty and smart and funny and has a nice voice and that you like small tits, just go with it.”
Sandor ran a hand down his face, “What did you do?”
“I told her you’re into her so she’d agree to hook up with you. Trust me, if she thought you were just doing her a favor she’d never go for it.”
“So now your sister thinks I have a thing for her. Great.”
“It’s alright, she likes you too.”
“She said that?”
Arya shrugged, “In so many words. She thinks you don’t like her because you’re mean to her and I told her it’s just an insecurity thing because of your scars.”
“Arya!” he hissed.
“What? It’s true.”
“You make me sound like a pathetic loser.”
“No, she thought it was sweet.”
“Sweet?”
“Yeah, she said ‘ohhhh….’ And she crossed her hands over her heart and was like, ‘it’s so sexy when guys show their vulnerability’.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m paraphrasing because Sansa yaps a lot, but you get the idea.”
“Alright, so when should I ask her out?”
Arya shrugged.
“Where should I take her?”
“I dunno. Dinner, I guess. Can you cook?”
Sandor nodded.
“Perfect. Offer to make dinner at your house. Cook her dinner, watch a movie, and sometime during the movie you can put the moves on her.”
“Moves? I don’t have any moves.”
Arya sighed, “Put your big hairy arm around her. Or put your hand on her knee. If she moves closer or leans into you, you’re good to go.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She will, trust me. She’s super horny.”
“She said that?”
“No, but she’s my sister, I can tell.”
“Okay, what movie?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Arya threw her hands up, “Who cares?! The movie is just pretext for sex. You can put on Jaws if you want, it doesn’t matter.”
“Wait – so does this mean Pod and Beric have been eliminated?”
“Yeah. Pod looked like he was going to piss himself when I asked if he thinks Sansa is hot. And Beric is apparently into some tantric sex shit where you fuck for hours but don’t actually enjoy it. I know it sounds crazy, but you’re the best option.”
“Yeah, that does sound crazy.”
“So you’ll do it, right?”
“Yeah. Give me some time to work up the nerve, then I’ll ask her out.”
“Great; just remember the end goal here – you need to get Sansa off. Whether it’s during foreplay or the actual deed I don’t care, just make sure it happens. I have a feeling it’s going to be like Pandora’s box, once she realizes she can cum during sex she won’t be able to stop. It’s kind of like the first time I used a dildo, it didn’t really—”
“Ugh – stop!”
Arya shrugged, “So you’ll ask her on a date, wine and dine her, and then make her cum. We good?”
“Wait – hold on. This sounds like a lot of pressure. You said your sister’s been with other guys but none of them have made her cum. What if she can’t?”
“She can. She masturbates all the time and has no trouble with that. It’s probably a comfort thing, come to think of it. So try to put her at ease.”
Sandor swallowed, “She masturbates all the time? That’s so fucking hot.”
Arya blinked at him, “Oh, so my sister masturbating is hot but me using a dildo is gross?”
“Umm…”
Her serious glare fractured, “I’m just fucking with you, man. Honestly, if I need to make myself throw up, I picture you or Tormund spanking it. Works every time.”
“Wow… I feel kind of violated.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
She shrugged, “I tried, alright?”
<<<<>>>>
Sandor shoved his hands in his pockets. It was so cute to see such a big guy looking sheepish, but ever since Arya told Sansa that Sandor had a crush on her, she kept noticing how adorable he was.
Like how he saved the crispiest, crunchiest fries for last, because they were his favorite.
Or how he didn’t talk much but his every thought played out on his face. His face was like the visual aid for everyone else’s stories.
Or how he blushed whenever they made eye contact now.
Or how his lips were a really nice shape, and his eyes were a lovely shade of gray with a touch of blue.
“So, umm…” he scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been meaning to ask you… Uh… If maybe… sometime… you might want to, um…”
Sansa felt horrible. Arya had told her that Sandor liked her, and Sansa was willing to give him a shot, but she’d insisted that he be the one to ask her out on a proper date. But now she realized just how hard that was for a man like Sandor Clegane.
So, as his words trailed off, his eyes completely averted, his cheeks gone an adorable shade of pink-tan, she decided to throw him a life raft.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, too.”
He brought his eyes up to her, wearing an expression equal parts wary and hopeful, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, “I was wondering if you might want to go out some time. With me. I mean, with just me, not Arya and Brienne and the guys and…” Shit, I’m worse at this than he is. Have I ever asked a guy out? No, I think they usually ask me out. Arya’s right, I am a pussy.
“…Anyway,” she forged ahead, “we could grab a bite to eat or go to the movies or—”
“I can cook,” he blurted out, then his blush deepened.
“Oh, yeah, um…” she began to panic, wondering if his offer to cook was all a pretense to get her alone at his house where there’d be plenty of opportunity to have sex.
Which she wasn’t opposed to, except she wanted to have the right to end the night without sleeping with him if they proved to have no chemistry.
“That would be nice, just, um…”
“No pressure,” he interjected, “I mean, no pressure to do anything but eat. And maybe watch a movie?”
She smiled, “Then that sounds perfect. I’m kind of tired of eating out, anyway. I’m not the best cook. It’s weird, because I can bake cakes and pies and cookies and all sorts of sweets but I can’t make a hard boiled egg to save my life. Well, I can, but the shell always sticks to it until I lose half the egg when peeling it. And I can’t make rice, either. Like, it always comes out a block of starchy moosh. And my roast chicken always has pink in it, unless it’s so dried out that it’s good for nothing but chicken salad. But my chicken salad is bland. It’s always missing something and I don’t know what.”
At realizing she was rambling she snapped her lips shut.
Sandor blinked at her a few times before nodding, “Yeah, um, probably dill. You can never put too much dill in chicken salad. Fresh parsley is good, too. And you need to use old eggs when hard-boiling them. And you’re probably lifting the lid on the rice too often. Really you just want to get it to a simmer then ignore it. Oh, and make sure you rinse the rice thoroughly first.”
She smiled at him, “And my chicken?”
He shrugged, “Just use a meat thermometer.”
“Are you going to make roast chicken and rice for our date?”
His eyes widened, “Um… if that’s what you want.”
She nodded, “If you don’t mind. I can make a salad – that much I can manage. Or dessert? What’s your favorite dessert?”
He shrugged again, “Brownies? Or, um… well, don’t go to any trouble but I also like raspberry tartes or lemon bars.”
“Lemon bars and raspberry tartes are my favorite!” she squealed while grabbing his forearms. Was it weird that she no longer worried about whether she’d feel pressured to sleep with him? No, not weird. Any man who liked lemon bars was good in her book.
“Right,” Sandor looked down at her hands, “So… are you free on Saturday?”
“Yes! What time?”
“Um, whenever, I guess. Six?”
“Yes!”
She realized her enthusiasm was perturbing him, so she turned it down and gave a shrug, “I mean, whatever time works for you. You’re the chef.”
“Six,” he confirmed, “I’d serve white wine with chicken but you prefer Cabernet, don’t you?”
“You noticed?” she beamed.
“Um, yeah.”
“Well, I’m okay with any white that isn’t too sweet. I know it’s a paradox – I could live on dessert foods but hate sweet wines.”
“It’s alright. I hate sweet wines, too.”
She couldn’t stop smiling and feared she looked like a dolt so she cleared her throat, “Great. Well, I gotta run but, see you Saturday?”
He nodded.
She nodded back.
<<<<>>>>
“This is why I don’t do nice things,” Arya spoke to her reflection.
Behind her, Gendry rolled his eyes, “Not that my opinion seems to matter, but I think you look great.”
“I’m wearing peach. Peach, Gendry.”
“Sansa called it blush pink.”
“Is that better than peach?”
Gendry shrugged, “It looks great with your hair and complexion.”
She scowled at his reflection, “Did Sansa tell you to say that.”
“Um… No?”
“Ugh!” Arya threw her arms up and then walked to the bed so she could collapse dramatically and hopefully wrinkle the silky material of this damned bride’s maid dress. Jeyne and Mya and Beth had cooed over their dresses, commending Sansa on choosing a color that suited all of them and a style that wasn’t “poofy”. Arya supposed she’d rather wear a slinky little number than some taffeta blob but what had been wrong with her suggestion of dove gray or navy? What did it matter that they’d be getting married on the beach and that it was summer?
Then, an idea struck her…
“When we get married I’m going to have creamsicle orange bridesmaids dresses.”
“Do I get a say in that?” Gendry sat next to her thigh.
“It’s Sansa’s worst color, or so she’s told me a couple hundred times.”
“Hon, you really look nice. The color suits you.”
“Yeah, everyone always says I’m a peach…”
Gendry groaned and stood, “I give up. I’m going to order a pizza.”
“Make it meat lovers – maybe if I can gain enough weight in the next two months Sansa will let me wear a dress out of my own closet.”
“Do I get a say in that?” he shouted over his shoulder.
Then he was gone down the hall and Arya was left to stew in her own regret.
It had been bad enough when Sansa described how Sandor made her climax not once but THREE times during their first night together. Arya didn’t want to hear that shit about him! She didn’t want to see his hands and think about how his fingers were the perfect ‘girth and roughness’ to stimulate her sister’s g-spot while he sucked her clit. Nor how his cock was so thick that Sansa climaxed even as it hurt her, which was a new and obviously pleasant turn of events for Sansa.
Ugh, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.
It was supposed to all be about sex but apparently they hit it off from the start. Sandor was such a good cook, so down to earth, not arrogant but also not insecure once he got into his comfort zone. Not toothache-sweet but surprisingly considerate of Sansa’s needs and emotions. A great snuggler. Tall and with a fast enough metabolism that he could be Sansa’s taste-tester for her various confectionary concoctions without gaining weight. He was funny, though never laughed at his own jokes. He was a good listener. He was smart but not a know-it-all. He made good money (as Arya already knew) but remained humble and didn’t spend like crazy, but nor was he cheap during their dates.
Arya had set out on a quest to find her sister a guy who could make her cum.
She ended up finding her a husband. Well, in two months.
Then again… She could do a lot of damage in two months. She was a one-woman wrecking ball, or so her family and friends and past lovers all agreed.
But, ugh, her sister was so happy. And Arya loved the bitch too much to ruin that.
Fucking love. It’s so overrated.
Well, at the very least she would get pizza grease on this dress. She might love her sister, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy tormenting her, from time to time.
Yeah, she’d feel better after sending Sansa a photo of the “accidental” stain.
As far as she was concerned, Sansa owed her anyway.
Big time.