Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Three

Sandor Clegane X Lannister!Reader - Sinner's Prayer

A/N - This chapter is based on the song 'Sinner's Prayer' by Lady Gaga. I'm almost certain I've used this one for inspiration before, but we're going to pretend I haven't. I hope you all enjoy it.

"Seven Hells," you murmured, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You raised your hand to rub at the hickey on your neck, uselessly attempting to wipe it away. "I told you not to mark me before tonight," you grumbled, turning to look at Sandor with a frown, your hands on your hips as though you were scolding a child rather than your lover. 

"You weren't complaining when I was doing it," he told you, still strewn across your bed, a happy little smile on his lips. 

"My father will go mad if he sees them," you muttered, returning your attention to your vanity. "I'm supposed to be a maiden, remember?" 

You heard Sandor shift on the bed beside you, his feet making contact with the ground, and you quickly glanced at him in the mirror. In all honesty, you couldn't be mad at him. When he was kissing at your neck you lost all logical thought, and he seemed to have the exact same problem. 

His lips pressed to your cheek in a chaste kiss, and you were rolling your eyes at his attempt to soothe your flared temper. "In my defence, I don't think a soul in this city believes you to be a maiden," he murmured, receiving a slap to his leg as he let out a hearty chuckle. 

"You're an ass," you bit out, growling at his as he took your chin in his hand, drawing you into a kiss. 

"Yep," he uttered against your lips.

You released a small sigh when he released you, moving across the room to dress himself. Getting ready to leave you again. "My Father will expect me to dance with suitors tonight," you murmured, watching as he stilled in his movements for a moment. 

"It's a ball," he answered softly, keeping his attention on the clothes bundled at his feet. "You always dance with men at balls." 

You hummed. "But Father wants me to start thinking about choosing a husband," you started again. "He'll expect me to marry one of the men I dance with." 

Sandor released a small grunt, finally allowing his eyes to find you in the room. "What are you trying to do here, Sweetness?" 

"I know that you can get pretty jealous, I just don't want it to be an issue tonight-"

 "It won't be an issue." You fell silent, your eyes fixing on the stone floors of your chamber. "I love you, Sweetness," he murmured, closing the space between you. His hand cupped your face, turning your gaze up to meet his. "But we both knew you were going to have to marry some high born prick, eventually."

"But I want you." 

Sandor pulled you to your feet, wrapping you up in his arms. It felt right being held like this, being completely engulfed by him. "Don't go crying on me, Sweet," he murmured as you burrowed closer to him, sniffling. 

*Time Skip*

If you could have blended back into the walls of the Great Hall you would have. You wanted nothing more than to cross the room and tuck yourself into Sandor's side. No other man would dare attempt conversation with you with him standing next to you. But alas, your father had made it very clear that you were to mingle amongst the other party-goers, and so you had wandered the room in the hopes that you could remain hidden from prying eyes. 

"My Lady," a man started, blocking your view of Sandor as he moved in front of you. "I was wondering whether you would like to dance with me." 

Gods, if it had been up to you the answer would have been a firm no. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the man, but he wasn't Sandor, and as such, he would never come close to measuring up to your expectations. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to you, and you forced a half-smile onto your lips. "Of course," you started softly.