[Musebox] - Resurrection

[thekittenqueen]

Continued from here.

Margaery knew Littlefinger and what he was capable of. The man had the good sense to avoid the former queen and alert her to his presence. He had always been a shrewd figure and likely understood that if Margaery knew he was about, she would likely have several stories to share about him. He was hardly the sort fit to spend time with Sansa and his influence on the young woman was pronounced. There was a quality to her that was no longer as compassionate as before. She was self serving, seeking power with reckless abandon, all with unclear ends. She had a smile now that could not be trusted, seemingly masking thoughts beneath the surface. While Margaery had missed her friend, it was with grim understanding that she recognized that her friend was gone. Someone else had taken her place.

It would take time for Margaery to learn all of the noble lords that served the Starks. Her education had included the make up of each of the bannermen to the great houses of Westeros, but that knowledge had been lost along the line, disappearing like a stone dropping beneath the surface of a pool. There had been greater thinks occupying her mind and, only now, did she realize that she had become lax with her skills for the game.

As much as she didn't want to, she would need to spend time below with the men and the forces of the Stark army. It would grant her the chance to observe and analyze those that gathered about her lover. She could read into the hearts of men and would find the means to learn their motivations, singling out those who could be trusted and those who couldn't. It was dangerous, as all of her scheming had once been, but there was more to lose now. It was no longer her life or her family's, it was a life she shared with another, the other part of her.

She feels the warmth he exudes and curls around it, basking under his affection and the glow of their earlier efforts. Despite the swirling lust, she found herself floating along the surface of bliss and contentment. It had been so long since such feelings coursed through her, for a moment, she had nearly mistaken them for something else. He carries her gently against the tide of her apathy and sorrow, drawing her back under the warm sun until she is thawed and alive once more. His arms shelter her, a tree in the midst of a rainstorm. He is her godswood and she would be devout to him in all ways, worshiping at his feet as they rutted like beasts, drawing their power from a more ancient magic. It was magnetic and addictive, but it was the source of her life now.

She considered his words, curiously trying to put a name to all that she felt. It seemed like a useless struggle, but there was something she wished to know. She was aware he shared the frenzied longing of her body, but there was something else as well, something rooted deeply inside her, past her heart and soul. She was bound to him, but didn't know how best to explain it. "I stir more than your cock, I believe?" Margaery asked, placing her hand over his heart. "It's more than that and I think that it is something..." it wasn't love. The word was paltry and pale compared to this, but how else could it be described? Such names didn't exist on the tongues of man. "Do you understand what it is?" She couldn't go into detail if he didn't. It was something that was simply known.

"Davos," her smile became one of amusement. "I think he is afraid of me or rather, doesn't know how to respond to my presence. I am too much a reminder of Stannis for him." He had at least been polite and kind, as had Tormund, though the Wildling didn't seem to have an idea of how to speak to her or how to behave. She wasn't a shield maiden and she imagined that he didn't want to frighten her off. They had good hearts and she hoped to open hers to them, if it ever truly could be.

"I speak of it because you might have to make the offer yourself." Margaery whispered, running her fingers through his hair. She hated to interrupt their love play with talk of politics and marriages, but there was no other time that they would be alone like this. Her opinion and advice would be dismissed by his men and she would gain their ire for interfering, but at least here, there was no one she would have to argue against. Jon would understand why she was offering it and how she might know better than the rest. She had three politically arranged marriages, after all. "If you make the offer, you will not make them feel as though they have to beg for aid. You are the stronger force with the larger kingdom." It would at least save them face before he flaunted a lover around his court.

Politics were left behind as their urges screamed back to life. Her hips subconsciously rolling against him as she sought the same friction he had wanted before. The stimulation against her sensitive sex bringing soft moans from her lips, as tender and gentle as a dove's coo. "I wouldn't deny you, as I might very well do the same." She was never a woman of such force before, but her body now cried out to be. She wanted to to pull him against a wall, free his cock from his breeches and rut happily for all to see. Modesty and decorum were simple, pretty words for those that didn't know what they wanted or how to enjoy it. She wasn't such a maiden anymore, she was as wild and untamed as he was and the desires they shared demanded immediate attention.

Yet she instead chose to toy with him, forcing him to remain seated and stationary as she explored her body with a cloth. The act of washing herself turning sensual and erotic as she cleaned away the places he marked her with lips, teeth and seed. She was wiping away the slate, indicating he would have to start all over again. "Am I yours?" Margaery asked with a wicked smile. "It seems that there are no signs left that I am." She was playing with fire and longed to be consumed by it, her flames and his inferno, swept up into the maddening blaze until she was burnt and broken by their passions.

He obeys her instructions, much to her chagrin and amusement. Given their earlier efforts, she had imagined he would break right away, but Jon seemed to be a man of remarkable will power. For the sake of pushing the game further, she moved close to him. Turning her back, she offered him the cloth. "You will have to wash where I cannot reach, but you cannot move from your chair or touch anywhere else." This would be enough, she was certain of it. She was pulling a string taught and sooner or later, it would snap in half and the force between them would smother them both.

Comments

[starkish]

It was strange to think that it was not so long ago as all that when he'd been paralyzed by the trauma of his own death; in those days after, he'd been rudderless and without direction, unable to see what laid beyond giving justice to those who had betrayed him. Staying at the Wall was unthinkable after all that had happened, but there had been nowhere else for him to go; now, he rules half of Westeros and cares for the well being of his people almost as much as he cares for Margaery herself. That passion is something else that they share -- a desire to see some good done to the realm, to see stability and a just ruler sit the iron throne. He was not greedy; Jon cared not for the Iron Throne, but it may very well be necessary to take it, at least for a time, to ensure the people of their realm are united.

Jon drank in the breathless whimpers of enjoyment that she let loose, smiling shakily as his eyes watched her with intense fascination. He knew that neither of them would achieve anything approaching gratification like this; they were too close to one another, too wild with desire to find their hands and fingers to be satisfactory, not when they were this close. With each motion, his lust sharpened more, becoming a fine point that pierced through all other thought and needs. His want was growing, slowly becoming incapable of being tamed; already, he could feel his body urging him to pounce on her, to sate both their lust in the best way he knew how. "So you do know what kind of games I have in mind." Under his breath, Jon chuckled softly. Truly, he wouldn't mind losing every time if their games ended like the last one had.

"No," his lips curved into a playful smile and, abruptly, his hands seized hers by the wrists, holding them tight. Jon pressed a soft kiss to each palm. "Else it'd be chains and manacles binding your wrists in place instead of my fingers." There were too many that believed smuggling her out of King's Landing entitled them to some say in her future; Jon had tried to put a stop to it where he could, affording her every luxury that one could afford a guest here, but some men were blind to even the most obvious things. Margaery's future was her own. If she wished to depart for High Garden today, he would send as many men with her as she required to see her safe. Many disagreed might be dissatisfied, but Davos and Tormund both understood, even though they might have handled things differently. "You need not fear on that front." He kissed her palms again and grinned at her. "You are my other half, love. Nothing you will do will make me doubtful or suspicious of you. I can say that with certainty."

From some, that might be a reckless sentiment or foolhardy, but he knew the way their hearts were bound; to doubt her would be to doubt that and that he would not do.

"I could not trust a man that treats his son the way Randall Tarley treated Samwell. I have no intention of asking his aid." Sam still resided in Oldtown. He'd sent a letter to him recently, asking for his advice and for his travel to Winterfell when able, but he'd yet to hear back. Sam was no warrior, but the more people he had that could be trusted to give true council, the better they all were. "As you say," he nodded in agreement, seeing the sense in that. "None will know the Reach near so well as you do. Then I shall go with you. Once the Riverlands are taken, my men would have to wait for our return as it is. I'd feel better knowing that we'd cut off Cersei's reserves before we even think about marching towards King's Landing." It was all fine reasoning, but, in truth, he did not want her far from his side, couldn't let her leave him so soon, especially if, as they suspected, their negotiations would end with a betrothal or a marriage.

Such a statement would have shocked him, once, but he'd conspired to end Mance Rayder in his own tent to keep him and his Free Folk from breaking through the Wall. He saw the sense in what she proposed. "Cersei is not warrior, either. She will not march into battle. There are crimes for her to answer to. If we could find someway to seize her and drag her from the city in secret, then we'd win. She has no other allies with the power to hold King's Landing." And once they had her, she could be tried for her crimes.

Politics ceased mattering a moment later. His skin prickled at the sound of her gasping, a pleased smile settling on to his face, just before he made a very similar sound, soft and sudden, as her fingers closed around his cock. When she broke their kiss, he nearly chased it, eyes gleaming with desire in the firelight, teeth gently chewing on his lower lip once he noticed her pulling further away. A shiver of anticipation slammed into him as realization dawn and the heat that blazed inside him, reflected in his gaze, seemed to become amplified several fold. He held his breath without realizing it and shuddered, the sight of her wetting her lips as arousing as any kiss or touch, fingers tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear in that moment just before her lips slid past the head of his cock.

His legs tensed and he moaned her name loudly as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped him, head rolling back for a moment before he returned to level a hungry gaze on her eyes.

[thekittenqueen]

She didn't want to consider the Iron Throne. Once it had been something precious to her, something that she wanted and schemed for. She had Loras had angled for marriage to a Baratheon, but when that failed, she had turned instead of the Lannisters. Had she thought more clearly, it was possible she could have wed into the Stark family and helped them claim King's Landing. With the right resources and army, any man could be king (and any man tried to be.) However, she could at least be grateful now that she hadn't turned that way. Without wedding a Lannister, she would never have ended in the Sept and never would have been brought to Winterfell. She would not be in Jon's arms now or sharing a bed with him. Perhaps for the first time since waking, she could see the grace of the gods and a light piercing through the darkness. She had been drowning in her grief, submerged beneath the ice in her heart. Through Jon, she was able to pull to the surface and breathe again. He made her struggling worth all that she endured.

Her hand could at least intensify her desires, but it would never satisfy. The ways his eyes held on her made it more than clear. Even the simple caress of his gaze was enough to bring her to the dizzying heights of lust. She was hungry for him and her fingers, while gentle and teasing, couldn't compare. She was struggling as well. Her body screamed for her to pull her hands away and mount him, riding him as fiercely as the wind rattled against the shutters. She wanted to lose her breath in him and to draw him into the depths of her lust. "We share similar ideas." She whispered, more than confident in that.

Her wrists were held tightly by him, doing more to stoke her desire than her own teasing. She smiled, giving a whimper as his lips connected to her palms. "I think I prefer your hands to chains and manacles." They were soft and warm. She was safe in his grasp, even when the ferocity of their passions raised its head. She didn't doubt that he would protect her from those that schemed against her, but her own state was less her concern. She needed to keep him safe from the rumors that her presence could create. "I would never act against you or harm you. It would be like harming myself. You are a part of me."

It hadn't occurred to her that he might know the Tarleys. There had been some rumblings about Randall Tarley passing over his oldest as heir, as well as him being sent to the Wall, but there was little else beyond that. Other matters had occupied her family and she hadn't thought much of her father's bannermen. "If we supplant his father, perhaps Samwell would take his father's seat instead?" They would need someone loyal to them and capable. "Are you certain you should separate from your men so soon?" It needed to be asked, though she had little intention of him remaining behind. If she went to High Garden, she wanted him with her. They had promised to stay together."

It should frighten her how much she wanted Cersei to suffer. She had never been a vengeful or cruel woman, but "Queen" had taken everything from her. Her family, her home, all of it had been destroyed by Cersei. It didn't take much to suspect that Cersei would take more, if she was given the chance. The people of King's Landing meant little to her, she only wanted power.

This wasn't something she did often. It opened up a level of vulnerability and submission that she did not intend to give other men. Jon was different. She craved him, to taste him and please him. Her lips encompassed him fully, drawing his cock further into her mouth. Her tongue traced over him, feeling the hard ridges and the hint of her juices still on his skin. She gripped tightly to his hips, holding him steady and he was pressed fully inside. She could feel him at the back of her throat, her nose brushing against her abdomen. She would need to pull away soon, if only so that she might have his cock inside her once more. This was only furthering her anticipation and hunger.

[starkish]

Although they'd never spoken after he'd taken his crown, Jon knew Robb and knew that his brother had never once truly considered the possibility of taking the Iron Throne for himself. He had been raised up as King in the North by his leal bannermen, true, but that had not been something that he'd asked for, no more than Jon had asked for the same. Still, had he set his sights upon it and sent word to House Tyrell asking for their support in the endeavor and more still, perhaps things would have ended differently. Perhaps it would have been Robb abed with her tonight while he froze on the Wall. Northmen like himself had no interest in septs or iron chairs, but Robb had learned much of the southron ways thanks to his mother. All Jon knew of them came from Maester Luwin, his friends and brothers on the Wall, and soon, Margaery herself. It was strange, then, that he might yet need to take it to end the bloodshed; ruling south and north had no appeal to him, but an important question remained: once Cersei Lannister had been deposed, who would rule in her stead?

"That we do." His voice was deceptively soft, breath having hitched sharply in his throat, as his body was filled to brimming with torrent of lust. He needed her, and not just her hand regulating the strength and speed of his stroking, but all of her: he needed the warmth of her kisses as she brushed them against his skin; he needed the softness of her body against his, two forms moulding perfectly neither; and he needed the tightness of her cunt surrounding him, welcoming his arousal and urging him on to release. What she offered now was a fine way to fire up his desire, but he would never truly be sated until he was inside her in some way.

His teeth were exposed by the fierceness of the grin that he presented her, leaning in close so that their foreheads pressed together and their lips hovered less than an inch from one another. He could peer into her eyes and lose himself this way. "My hands would rather be on you than elsewhere, so we're well matched in that regard. Let's leave behind cold iron, then." His grin widens and he erases what gap remains, pressing a searing kiss to her mouth, teeth nipping lightly at her lips as lust slowly begins to overwhelm what sense remains them. Her words bring another smile to his face and his hands release their grip, favoring a gentle caress of his fingers along her cheek. "I know. I would never believe you capable of such a thing, my love. We are one."

Her idea was, unsurprisingly, a good one. Jon hummed in thought, considering Sam for a long moment, brows drawn together in thought. "Perhaps. He was very glad to be going to Oldtown to become a Maester, but... Sam has a sense of duty very much like my own. I have heard rumors of men that went to the Citadel for a time, though, before leaving to do something else with their lives. And it would be one less set of vows he must take." Like most of the brothers of the Night's Watch, Sam had discarded one vow in particular with little care. "I will be separated from the larger portion for a time already," he responded with a gentle shrug of his shoulders, "If I must extend that a little, it will be fine. Lords will always scheme, but this group is loyal enough." Davos would keep them in line.

If Cersei Lannister were to perish in their attempts to safely tear her down from power, Jon would not shed a single tear. He would gladly welcome the destruction of what remained of House Lannister. It was a northern thing, this desire for vengeance upon those who had wronged them, but she deserved no less than utter annihilation for the death and destruction she had wrought upon this kingdom.

This was new, for him. Ygritte had never used her mouth on him. That merely served to heighten his arousal, to know that he still had something new he could experience for the first time with her. His eyes, a black darker than smoke, watched her, eyelids drooping from the lust that tumbled about inside, teeth worrying his bottom lip. The contact between the heated flesh of her tongue and the rigidness of his cock sent sparks of pleasure up the shaft, girth twitching it's approval inside her mouth, and his lips parted as a throaty, ragged groan slid past them, the sensation of being fully inside her mouth nearly as good as being buried within her cunt. His fingers lightly grasped strands of hair as the rest of him trembled with a desire for more.

[thekittenqueen]

It never truly occurred to her, but there was a measure of truth to it. Had the Tyrells chosen the Starks over the Lannisters, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be in bed with Robb and be called his wife. The Sept never would have served as her family's tomb, Jon would not be king, and this connection between them would never have been discovered. She knew little about Robb or what sort of man he was, only the rumors that were spoken and the reputation that proceeded him. He was said to be honorable like his father and a capable commander. Beyond that, there were only the tales that Sansa later shared. It had been obvious then how much the young girl loved her family, though tragic now, as Jon was hardly mentioned. How he must have felt to be in his brother's shadow, a bastard and a second son. Suddenly he was in Robb's place, wearing Robb's crown and assuming Robb's title. It pained her to imagine what guilt that might cause Jon. He was just as loyal as any Stark, but received little gratitude for it.

She couldn't wash away the loneliness of his past, but she could ensure that his future was filled with warmth, love and passion. Beyond the hunger, she could complete him and join with him in ways reaching beyond the physical. Just as he melded with the emptiness in her, she knew she could do the same for him. He deserved nothing less than that, and so long as she provided him that link, she would offer it to him completely. That was her purpose now, no longer ambition and calculations, but to give herself completely to the man she was always destined to be with. "Whatever may have happened in the past, it lead us to this moment. I don't wish to ever feel guilt over it. How can I when I have been given you?"

She gave a small growl, matching the fierceness of his grin. Her eyes glimmered with heat, stoked back to life like a dying fire. She nipped at him in return, they were playing like wolves, biting and growling at one another. It was leading up to a coupling that she knew would transcend all the rest. Her body pressed to his, letting him feel the heat of her sex wafting towards him, even as her hand increased in speed. She was pumping him, matching the rhythm of her quickened heartbeat. "Are your hands even capable of being preoccupied by other things? Mine seem unable to do anything but touch you." There was so much of him to explore. Her fingers were drawn to him, all the places that she had kissed and bitten now had to be caressed and memorized.

She knew little about Samwell, but she knew much about men. The rules and vows of the Night's Watch were stifling. How could anyone enjoy the idea of forced celibacy or the inability to uphold their family's legacy. No matter the family they came from, they were all bred with a certain level of pride and loyalty to their houses. A simple oath to surrender their claims would not be enough to remove the years and teachings of their house. Jon was the perfect example of that. When the Starks and Winterfell needed him, he abandoned his place as Lord Commander and returned to the place he called home. She had little doubt Samwell would be the same. "If he does assume leadership, I will surrender High Garden to his care. Better it be with a good man than the Lannisters." She had no intention of returning to the ghosts of her past or the ever present reminder of her loss. "My place is here with you."

She could only manage so much more of this, offering him the complete sensation of her lips around him and her tongue swirling about his length. The taste of him, the feel of his rigid length, it only fanned the flames inside her, causing her to ache for him to be pressed within her again. She was ravenous for him, shaking even as her head bobbed steadily, hitting the tip of his cock against the back of her throat. She moaned, the vibrations of her lips throbbing against him. Finally, she broke away and crawled over him, settling against his hips astride, pressing herself firmly against him. "I need you." She whispered harshly. "I need to ride you."

Without any fanfare and in one deft motion, she pushed him against her entrance and slid herself down his length until he was firmly encased by her walls. The sensation was just as overwhelming as before, drawing out a breathless cry as her body's craving was finally sated...at least temporarily. Once more, she felt completed and safe, joined with her other half and ready to chase that burning passion with reckless abandon. "I can't get enough of you."