When the bastard of Bolton had finally been slain, Jon had feared the loose alliance of men and women that had fought for him might dissolved; worse, he had feared that those who had held back or who had fought for Ramsay might not allow the rift that had grown between them to heal. Instead, they had named him king. Jon Snow was not his brother. He did not have Robb's easy way with people. He was solemn and too dour. His father had ensured that Jon had access to many of the same lesson's Robb did, but he had not been raised to be a lord and certainly not a king. Their people had chosen him only after Robb had perished, but they'd chosen him regardless. He might not have been the son of Ned Stark they would have preferred, but he'd do the job regardless.
The question of what came next still plagued him. With their lust having abated, it was one of the considerations that tormented the back of his mind. Margaery's presence changed things on a personal level, but there was still the question of the North itself to consider. Sansa's connection to the Vale had bought food to last the winter, but when spring finally came, all bets were off. A dozen different plans of action had been suggested, each backed by this lord or that, and none were exactly the same. Some argued, as Margaery had heard whispers of, that they send envoys to Dorne now to ensure their supremacy come spring. Others wished to strike south and take the Riverlands back from Lannister control; Southron winters would prove even easier on a Northern force than a Northern one might. Rumors flooded out of King's Landing as well, though, and they suggested that Cersei's hold on the rest of Westeros might well end with her subjects in revolt again. There was no agreement to be found on what the right course of action would be and it was his task to decide upon it.
For a long while, it had been a popular suggestion that Jon take the Lady Tyrell as wife. That had been before news of the Lannister's incursion had come north. Northern families always thirsted for vengeance and they had believed that the Reach would not rest until justice had been found for Mace and his children. It had been an idea that Jon had toyed with, in that theoretical, abstract way that one considers a political alliance. What his councilors had proposed was different what he considered, however; such a marriage would only have happened if Margaery willed it. From the first true conversation they'd had, he'd known just how deeply her loss had cut her. If possible, he'd prefer to bring her happiness instead of more pain. There were other options. A part of him regrets that now. Only a part, though. A wedding would have little meaning now.
And while he had considered the possibility of having her, those thoughts seemed so dim compared to the brilliant reality; his thoughts had been those of a man desiring a woman instead of a wolf needing his mate. "I think I recall you issuing a challenge not so long ago as all that. Something about not touching. It's difficult to recall after the last fucking I gave you." He bares his teeth in a sharp grin, a shiver accompanying the rising desire that her fingers stoke in his skin. "Well, I shan't refuse you that, Margaery. I was thinking much the same. The easiest way to ensure that I spill my seed will be to find the best ways to make you find your pleasure. I do not wish to find release until I'm certain you've done the same." No doubt there would be times where it would happen anyway, but it was also his desire to make certain she find relief, even as temporary as it would inevitably be. During his limited experiences with other women, that desire had been one of the things he'd discovered about himself. To that end, he wanted to know her body like a master singers might know a harp or a sitar, to be able to play her in just the right way to make her sing with pleasure when the time came. "Not at all. With you close at hand, my body will ensure that I remember them whatever might occupy my mind." Of course, chances were that his mind would almost always be pre-occupied with her.
Right now, that was certainly the case. A dark haze was beginning to settle in his mind, the tendrils of heat making themselves known to him as his mouth asserted his desire to her skin. Tension was starting to rise inside of him, muscles thrumming with a surplus of energy, as warmth spread across his skin and a gentle flush developed on his cheek. "I am very pleased to hear that. Not that I ever doubted you." And he hadn't. Everything he feels, she feels just as intensely. If his body would wake him in the middle of the night with it's stirrings, hers would certainly do the same. In a way, he almost looks forward to that more -- waking in pleasure, waking with her pressed against him, close and his. "Don't worry." He tries very hard to be reassuring, but it's difficult with her fingers stroking the skin on his chest and fondling his rear in turn; his voice is more than a little rough with desire now. "I will do what's best for my people. But I'll also do what's best for us, Margaery, and that means taking you whenever the need strikes us." If there were no responsibilities to deal with, he very well might spend the whole of each day just like this, chasing and seeking pleasure with the woman that was his other half. Even now, that's exactly what he wishes he could do. He's king, though, and that requires some restraint. Only just enough to do what's right for his people, but even that almost seems like unfairly much to him. "Then I will be happy. That's all I want out of life: you."
The sound of her colluded with the sensation of her thigh, skin warm and textured, to bring him to full stiffness in what felt like an instant, a point that only served to underscore her words. Jon grins and takes her offering eagerly, nipping at the taut point and giving it a gentle tug, while his fingers skim down her belly and slip between her legs to find her just as fully aroused as he is. His lips curve into a wicked smile as her wetness, mixed with his seed, clings to the skin on his fingers. "I see that," his voice is very nearly a purr of approval, eyes flashing hotly as he lashes her other nipple with a quick flick of his tongue and then stares up at her, fingers pulling away from her cunt and slipping into his mouth a moment later. Jon groans softly at the taste of them, subtly different from just her own, and sucks his fingers clean. "And taste it too."
His back curls more as he presses a hot kiss to her belly and then returns to his knees, grabbing her wrist with one hand and gesturing to the rest of her rooms "I tire of the floor. Let's find somewhere else to enjoy ourselves before I'm too lost to lust to do anything but rut with you."
no subject
The question of what came next still plagued him. With their lust having abated, it was one of the considerations that tormented the back of his mind. Margaery's presence changed things on a personal level, but there was still the question of the North itself to consider. Sansa's connection to the Vale had bought food to last the winter, but when spring finally came, all bets were off. A dozen different plans of action had been suggested, each backed by this lord or that, and none were exactly the same. Some argued, as Margaery had heard whispers of, that they send envoys to Dorne now to ensure their supremacy come spring. Others wished to strike south and take the Riverlands back from Lannister control; Southron winters would prove even easier on a Northern force than a Northern one might. Rumors flooded out of King's Landing as well, though, and they suggested that Cersei's hold on the rest of Westeros might well end with her subjects in revolt again. There was no agreement to be found on what the right course of action would be and it was his task to decide upon it.
For a long while, it had been a popular suggestion that Jon take the Lady Tyrell as wife. That had been before news of the Lannister's incursion had come north. Northern families always thirsted for vengeance and they had believed that the Reach would not rest until justice had been found for Mace and his children. It had been an idea that Jon had toyed with, in that theoretical, abstract way that one considers a political alliance. What his councilors had proposed was different what he considered, however; such a marriage would only have happened if Margaery willed it. From the first true conversation they'd had, he'd known just how deeply her loss had cut her. If possible, he'd prefer to bring her happiness instead of more pain. There were other options. A part of him regrets that now. Only a part, though. A wedding would have little meaning now.
And while he had considered the possibility of having her, those thoughts seemed so dim compared to the brilliant reality; his thoughts had been those of a man desiring a woman instead of a wolf needing his mate. "I think I recall you issuing a challenge not so long ago as all that. Something about not touching. It's difficult to recall after the last fucking I gave you." He bares his teeth in a sharp grin, a shiver accompanying the rising desire that her fingers stoke in his skin. "Well, I shan't refuse you that, Margaery. I was thinking much the same. The easiest way to ensure that I spill my seed will be to find the best ways to make you find your pleasure. I do not wish to find release until I'm certain you've done the same." No doubt there would be times where it would happen anyway, but it was also his desire to make certain she find relief, even as temporary as it would inevitably be. During his limited experiences with other women, that desire had been one of the things he'd discovered about himself. To that end, he wanted to know her body like a master singers might know a harp or a sitar, to be able to play her in just the right way to make her sing with pleasure when the time came. "Not at all. With you close at hand, my body will ensure that I remember them whatever might occupy my mind." Of course, chances were that his mind would almost always be pre-occupied with her.
Right now, that was certainly the case. A dark haze was beginning to settle in his mind, the tendrils of heat making themselves known to him as his mouth asserted his desire to her skin. Tension was starting to rise inside of him, muscles thrumming with a surplus of energy, as warmth spread across his skin and a gentle flush developed on his cheek. "I am very pleased to hear that. Not that I ever doubted you." And he hadn't. Everything he feels, she feels just as intensely. If his body would wake him in the middle of the night with it's stirrings, hers would certainly do the same. In a way, he almost looks forward to that more -- waking in pleasure, waking with her pressed against him, close and his. "Don't worry." He tries very hard to be reassuring, but it's difficult with her fingers stroking the skin on his chest and fondling his rear in turn; his voice is more than a little rough with desire now. "I will do what's best for my people. But I'll also do what's best for us, Margaery, and that means taking you whenever the need strikes us." If there were no responsibilities to deal with, he very well might spend the whole of each day just like this, chasing and seeking pleasure with the woman that was his other half. Even now, that's exactly what he wishes he could do. He's king, though, and that requires some restraint. Only just enough to do what's right for his people, but even that almost seems like unfairly much to him. "Then I will be happy. That's all I want out of life: you."
The sound of her colluded with the sensation of her thigh, skin warm and textured, to bring him to full stiffness in what felt like an instant, a point that only served to underscore her words. Jon grins and takes her offering eagerly, nipping at the taut point and giving it a gentle tug, while his fingers skim down her belly and slip between her legs to find her just as fully aroused as he is. His lips curve into a wicked smile as her wetness, mixed with his seed, clings to the skin on his fingers. "I see that," his voice is very nearly a purr of approval, eyes flashing hotly as he lashes her other nipple with a quick flick of his tongue and then stares up at her, fingers pulling away from her cunt and slipping into his mouth a moment later. Jon groans softly at the taste of them, subtly different from just her own, and sucks his fingers clean. "And taste it too."
His back curls more as he presses a hot kiss to her belly and then returns to his knees, grabbing her wrist with one hand and gesturing to the rest of her rooms "I tire of the floor. Let's find somewhere else to enjoy ourselves before I'm too lost to lust to do anything but rut with you."