Beyond life and beyond death, there existed this passion that defied explanation or understanding. It had been forged by something more powerful than the gods and resided in a realm that Margaery might never have imagined or known about until she had come to Winterfell. She had been reforged and left behind the woman she had believed she knew. Whoever Margaery was before this moment, she was gone now and could never find her way back. The path had grown over and been consumed by this pulsing desire and need. There was only Jon, he was set before her like a mirage in the distance. She possessed him wholly, but she would never have him enough that she could be sated (if it were ever possible.) Each time she neared the point that she believed she could be, it slipped out of her fingers and disappeared over the horizon.
She would never stop chasing this feeling, no matter the place or time, no matter who might be in the room. She was on a journey, all roads leading to Jon and the culmination he brought her body to. It was more than simple fucking, it was worship to a more ancient god and a more powerful existence.
She lazed in his arms, her body still humming and that clawing lust still grasping in the back of her mind. She could at least rest a moment and reclaim her breath before it consumed her again and drove her into a near frenzy of madness. For a brief time, she could simply hold Jon in her arms and stroke his back gently, marveling at the hardness of his muscles, yet the softness of his skin. She could feel his heart pounding against his body and the sweat that rolled from his limbs onto the alabaster plains of her form. This was contentment, no matter how momentary it was.
Her blue eyes found his, still darkened to the color of a midnight storm. She could hear the rattle of the shutters, the winter wind trying to make its way inside. Her fire sputtered, interrupting the sounds of their heavy breathing and the soft footfalls in the distance. The world returned around them, intruding on their solitude and paradise. The word would spread soon, if it had not done so already, that Jon and Margaery were lovers. Her reputation would be slighted now and she'd be viewed as little more than a whore, but she found she couldn't care. She had been called that before with little cause. There was nothing that made it so now, only that she had given herself to Jon. His men wouldn't understand, Sansa wouldn't as well. How could they? They could whisper what they pleased and they could advise Jon to send her away, but she knew absolutely that she would never leave his side. Her nights were his, as were his days hers.
"There is no going back," she assured him gently, feeling nothing but tenderness as she stared down at him. "You are mine and I intend to keep you all to myself." No matter what his councilors would demand, he would never belong to another woman. "Do you still intend to remain in my chambers for the day and night?" She grinned, hoping to keep him and explore the multiple ways their bodies might come together. She was filled with him still, but there was an emptiness inside her where he was a second ago. He had a promise to keep, as did she. She would ride him, as he wished. They would play like beasts before the fire and they would break her bed under the sheer weight of their hunger. Yet they would not leave her chamber, not until a full day had passed. Food may be brought to them, if they craved it. They would keep their own fire roaring and they would care and dress each other, if need be (though she doubted clothes would remain on their body for long.) No one would be allowed into this room.
"In all of your visits, I never knew or suspected that this was how it would end for us. I simply assumed I would go on as though I were in a fog. One touch and one whisper of desire and I came to life, fully and completely." She would never be able to express or offer him the full extent of her gratitude, but she could at least show him by living completely for him.
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She would never stop chasing this feeling, no matter the place or time, no matter who might be in the room. She was on a journey, all roads leading to Jon and the culmination he brought her body to. It was more than simple fucking, it was worship to a more ancient god and a more powerful existence.
She lazed in his arms, her body still humming and that clawing lust still grasping in the back of her mind. She could at least rest a moment and reclaim her breath before it consumed her again and drove her into a near frenzy of madness. For a brief time, she could simply hold Jon in her arms and stroke his back gently, marveling at the hardness of his muscles, yet the softness of his skin. She could feel his heart pounding against his body and the sweat that rolled from his limbs onto the alabaster plains of her form. This was contentment, no matter how momentary it was.
Her blue eyes found his, still darkened to the color of a midnight storm. She could hear the rattle of the shutters, the winter wind trying to make its way inside. Her fire sputtered, interrupting the sounds of their heavy breathing and the soft footfalls in the distance. The world returned around them, intruding on their solitude and paradise. The word would spread soon, if it had not done so already, that Jon and Margaery were lovers. Her reputation would be slighted now and she'd be viewed as little more than a whore, but she found she couldn't care. She had been called that before with little cause. There was nothing that made it so now, only that she had given herself to Jon. His men wouldn't understand, Sansa wouldn't as well. How could they? They could whisper what they pleased and they could advise Jon to send her away, but she knew absolutely that she would never leave his side. Her nights were his, as were his days hers.
"There is no going back," she assured him gently, feeling nothing but tenderness as she stared down at him. "You are mine and I intend to keep you all to myself." No matter what his councilors would demand, he would never belong to another woman. "Do you still intend to remain in my chambers for the day and night?" She grinned, hoping to keep him and explore the multiple ways their bodies might come together. She was filled with him still, but there was an emptiness inside her where he was a second ago. He had a promise to keep, as did she. She would ride him, as he wished. They would play like beasts before the fire and they would break her bed under the sheer weight of their hunger. Yet they would not leave her chamber, not until a full day had passed. Food may be brought to them, if they craved it. They would keep their own fire roaring and they would care and dress each other, if need be (though she doubted clothes would remain on their body for long.) No one would be allowed into this room.
"In all of your visits, I never knew or suspected that this was how it would end for us. I simply assumed I would go on as though I were in a fog. One touch and one whisper of desire and I came to life, fully and completely." She would never be able to express or offer him the full extent of her gratitude, but she could at least show him by living completely for him.