It isn't lost on her how perfectly compatible they are. Jon was a natural leader, the sort of man that others would want to be king. He could lead an army and preside over a court with authority, something that Joffery and Tommen lacked. Unlike Renly, however, Jon was willing to fight alongside his men and do more than just enjoy the pageantry of the monarchy. He bore all the qualities that the previous kings in her life lacked. More than that, he welcomed her advice and presence, heeding her warnings as though she were one of his councilors.
It would lead to resentment, she knew that much. With her presence in his bed, she was already walking a thin line. Others would be affronted by the flaunting of propriety. Sansa would begrudge her one time friend for usurping her place at Jon's side and his advisers would view her as an interloper, overturning their policies. It was a dangerous game, one that she had only just lost in King's Landing. Was she willing to risk her safety again? There was no guarantee that she would survive this next time.
These questions swarm her mind when he takes her hand, speaking the words that were engraved n her soul. It was as though he peered into her heart and spoke aloud what she had only just realized herself. He was the sun, the light in her life and the breath in her lungs. She needed him as much as she needed the beating of her heart. He set her afire and returned her spark of life. Without him, she was nothing more than stone and ice, the ashes of a rose that once bloomed beautifully. He was more than a man to her, he was the part of her that had been missing from both this life and her previous one.
"You are mine," she whispered the words fervently, cupping his cheek with her free hand. She pressed her brow to his, staring into his eyes. It was more than words of desire she gave him, it is all she was. "I wasn't alive until now, not even before the Sept. I didn't know that until I saw you seated at my bedside." It was only then that she was born truly.
"You can hope so, my love. You should brace yourself for reality." Once they were slightly sated (as well as they could be), they would need to make more solid plans. She would even venture below for the first time since she woke in Winterfell. This matter was too important to ignore. "But I don't wish to think about another woman in your bed. Not at this moment. We will let Arianne Martell intrude afterwards. This day and night are ours."
Gods but they had no shame with each other. Simply the thought of being bent over his desk or tactical map had her humming with need. She didn't care if the entire Stark household witnessed it. What was the harm in him claiming her so openly? What did they have to hide? She was his and he was hers. Let them seek gratification whenever the need arose. "Only so long that I may sit upon your lap during a feast and ride you fearlessly. When we hunger, you may have me, no matter the place or time."
She grinned, feeling his dark eyes on her, locked on her movements and form. "I should like to be marked in such a way." She responded, shivering at the thought. Gods, he didn't need to touch her, the caress of his stare was enough stimulation. His mere presence was enough to heighten her arousal and drive her into a near frenzy. The game may be designed to push him to his limits, but it was working as effectively for her as well.
She had been so focused on his gaze and the feel of the cloth, straining for even the smallest brush of his skin, that when his hands find her hips, it overwhelms her. The tight grip and the fervency in his touch causes her to moan. Part of her wanted to deny him that command, wanting to see his face when he was inside her for the first time. But she had set the tone of the game and couldn't find it in her to do anything but get on her hands and knees. She wanted to be rutted with and she wanted it now!
She sinks to the floor, lifting her rear higher, allowing him a view of where his tongue had been before. "Hurry," she whispered, her breathing harsh and ragged. "I need you now."
no subject
It would lead to resentment, she knew that much. With her presence in his bed, she was already walking a thin line. Others would be affronted by the flaunting of propriety. Sansa would begrudge her one time friend for usurping her place at Jon's side and his advisers would view her as an interloper, overturning their policies. It was a dangerous game, one that she had only just lost in King's Landing. Was she willing to risk her safety again? There was no guarantee that she would survive this next time.
These questions swarm her mind when he takes her hand, speaking the words that were engraved n her soul. It was as though he peered into her heart and spoke aloud what she had only just realized herself. He was the sun, the light in her life and the breath in her lungs. She needed him as much as she needed the beating of her heart. He set her afire and returned her spark of life. Without him, she was nothing more than stone and ice, the ashes of a rose that once bloomed beautifully. He was more than a man to her, he was the part of her that had been missing from both this life and her previous one.
"You are mine," she whispered the words fervently, cupping his cheek with her free hand. She pressed her brow to his, staring into his eyes. It was more than words of desire she gave him, it is all she was. "I wasn't alive until now, not even before the Sept. I didn't know that until I saw you seated at my bedside." It was only then that she was born truly.
"You can hope so, my love. You should brace yourself for reality." Once they were slightly sated (as well as they could be), they would need to make more solid plans. She would even venture below for the first time since she woke in Winterfell. This matter was too important to ignore. "But I don't wish to think about another woman in your bed. Not at this moment. We will let Arianne Martell intrude afterwards. This day and night are ours."
Gods but they had no shame with each other. Simply the thought of being bent over his desk or tactical map had her humming with need. She didn't care if the entire Stark household witnessed it. What was the harm in him claiming her so openly? What did they have to hide? She was his and he was hers. Let them seek gratification whenever the need arose. "Only so long that I may sit upon your lap during a feast and ride you fearlessly. When we hunger, you may have me, no matter the place or time."
She grinned, feeling his dark eyes on her, locked on her movements and form. "I should like to be marked in such a way." She responded, shivering at the thought. Gods, he didn't need to touch her, the caress of his stare was enough stimulation. His mere presence was enough to heighten her arousal and drive her into a near frenzy. The game may be designed to push him to his limits, but it was working as effectively for her as well.
She had been so focused on his gaze and the feel of the cloth, straining for even the smallest brush of his skin, that when his hands find her hips, it overwhelms her. The tight grip and the fervency in his touch causes her to moan. Part of her wanted to deny him that command, wanting to see his face when he was inside her for the first time. But she had set the tone of the game and couldn't find it in her to do anything but get on her hands and knees. She wanted to be rutted with and she wanted it now!
She sinks to the floor, lifting her rear higher, allowing him a view of where his tongue had been before. "Hurry," she whispered, her breathing harsh and ragged. "I need you now."