It still mystified her that Jon had died and been brought back to life by some mystical means. She had seen the proof of it, even having traced her fingers over them and placed kisses along the scars. Yet, it defied reason to know that his brush with death went so much deeper than her own. Yet...how else should it be? How else would he understand her so well. What happened to her might not have been actual death, but it nearly was. She had hovered between the two planes, not yet slipping away, but not holding firmly to life. It had changed her, marked her soul and no man would be able to understand or see the deep changes it made in her.
Only Jon could. He still carried the shroud of death around him, his eyes as deep and dark as a tomb. Those first few days after she had woken, simply feeling Jon's presence had been enough to calm her, chasing away the specters that followed her like shadows. The past was burned fiercely on her skin and seemed inescapable. The maester, Sansa and Jon's men had assured her that they would get revenge, that she would recover and grow strong again. So many pointless statements that failed to take into account that it was impossible for her to go back. Who she was had burned away while her body had survived.
Jon understood and simply spoke to her of small things. She couldn't remember what was said, but she could remember how comforting and soothing he was. That feeling emenated from him still, rising to the surface as he kissed over her body, caressing her with lips and hands. She shivered, clinging to him so closely that she believed she could crawl inside of him and reside in his heart.
The image of their small home in Lys or Pentos or Braavos brought a smile to her face. She nuzzled into him, dragging soft kisses over his shoulders and neck. "You wouldn't melt." She promised him. "You would be a winter rose in my garden, growing strong and free from the cold." She teased him, winding her fingers through his hair as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. "There are no morals there, not the same as there are here. No one would question us when he took our pleasure in the open air. We could exist in our world without interruption." In a sturdier place than behind her door.
She couldn't imagine this passion existing in the past. Had she met him before the Sept, it was unlikely that she would have paid him much mind. There might have been desire and a wish to fuck freely, but ambition had been her singular concern. She had given up so much for it, it stood to reason that this bond she shared with Jon would have fallen by the wayside as well. The mere thought of that causes her to grip him harder, letting tenderness shift to near frenzy and fear.
No! No, she couldn't have done that. She wouldn't cast him aside and resign herself to a meaningless, cold existence. How could she breathe or function without the feel of Jon inside her? How would she have managed without him rooted in her heart? She couldn't comprehend it, but the mere idea was enough to frighten her to the point of near tears. It shamed her that a simple contemplation would be enough to jolt her in such a way, but it was the reality of losing him. It would destroy what was left of her.
Their joining was like stepping into the presence of the gods. She never believed in the divine before, but the moment his cock pushed through her folds, she understood what true faith and true magic were. She could hardly put words to it, only know that it was more than simple fucking. She knew that from her previous life. This...gods, it was something rare and precious and fragile, but surging with a strength she never imagined could be possessed before.
As he starts to move rapidly in her, it's all she can do to keep up with him. Her legs begin to strain at the tightness with which she holds him. Her back aching against the floor but largely ignored. Instead, all she could hear was the hammering of her heart, the sting of their skin slapping, and the sound of their moans echoing through the room.
Somehow, she manages to find that impish spark in her once more. "It's you who is supposed to fuck me." She teased him, dragging her nails fiercely down his back. Leaning close to him, she bit him savagely on his shoulder, marking him as he had done with her moments before. "Harder." She whispered harshly.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2016-12-19 01:38 am (UTC)Only Jon could. He still carried the shroud of death around him, his eyes as deep and dark as a tomb. Those first few days after she had woken, simply feeling Jon's presence had been enough to calm her, chasing away the specters that followed her like shadows. The past was burned fiercely on her skin and seemed inescapable. The maester, Sansa and Jon's men had assured her that they would get revenge, that she would recover and grow strong again. So many pointless statements that failed to take into account that it was impossible for her to go back. Who she was had burned away while her body had survived.
Jon understood and simply spoke to her of small things. She couldn't remember what was said, but she could remember how comforting and soothing he was. That feeling emenated from him still, rising to the surface as he kissed over her body, caressing her with lips and hands. She shivered, clinging to him so closely that she believed she could crawl inside of him and reside in his heart.
The image of their small home in Lys or Pentos or Braavos brought a smile to her face. She nuzzled into him, dragging soft kisses over his shoulders and neck. "You wouldn't melt." She promised him. "You would be a winter rose in my garden, growing strong and free from the cold." She teased him, winding her fingers through his hair as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. "There are no morals there, not the same as there are here. No one would question us when he took our pleasure in the open air. We could exist in our world without interruption." In a sturdier place than behind her door.
She couldn't imagine this passion existing in the past. Had she met him before the Sept, it was unlikely that she would have paid him much mind. There might have been desire and a wish to fuck freely, but ambition had been her singular concern. She had given up so much for it, it stood to reason that this bond she shared with Jon would have fallen by the wayside as well. The mere thought of that causes her to grip him harder, letting tenderness shift to near frenzy and fear.
No! No, she couldn't have done that. She wouldn't cast him aside and resign herself to a meaningless, cold existence. How could she breathe or function without the feel of Jon inside her? How would she have managed without him rooted in her heart? She couldn't comprehend it, but the mere idea was enough to frighten her to the point of near tears. It shamed her that a simple contemplation would be enough to jolt her in such a way, but it was the reality of losing him. It would destroy what was left of her.
Their joining was like stepping into the presence of the gods. She never believed in the divine before, but the moment his cock pushed through her folds, she understood what true faith and true magic were. She could hardly put words to it, only know that it was more than simple fucking. She knew that from her previous life. This...gods, it was something rare and precious and fragile, but surging with a strength she never imagined could be possessed before.
As he starts to move rapidly in her, it's all she can do to keep up with him. Her legs begin to strain at the tightness with which she holds him. Her back aching against the floor but largely ignored. Instead, all she could hear was the hammering of her heart, the sting of their skin slapping, and the sound of their moans echoing through the room.
Somehow, she manages to find that impish spark in her once more. "It's you who is supposed to fuck me." She teased him, dragging her nails fiercely down his back. Leaning close to him, she bit him savagely on his shoulder, marking him as he had done with her moments before. "Harder." She whispered harshly.