#it's past Jon's bed time but he's along for the ride lol

[batbabydamian]

super babies on patrol (at the dog park)

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “From Instep to Heel”, Part 7

Finally catching up on posting my chapters on tumblr now that I’ve got the time to do the freakin’ formatting, lol.  I’ve been lazy.  My bad.

“From Instep to Heel”

Chapter Seven: Taken

"(His calloused palm at her thigh, the graze of his fingers along the edge of her smallclothes, the hot pant of his breath at her ear.)

Did you like it?

The question presses sharp and insistent at the edges of her mind." - Jon and Sansa. Like the curve of the horizon, when the moon breaks from beneath its bow.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 fin

* * *

"You slept well, I hope, brother?" Aegon's eyes crinkle with his smile as he bites off a piece of salted seabass.

Jon offers a tight smile in return, leaning back in his chair at the table, shoulders bunched. Aegon does not wait for the ladies of the house to join them, tucking into his breakfast with poised and slender hands. Jon picks at a piece of brown bread, eyes lingering over his untouched plate. He glances to the door again, half expecting Sansa to walk through it this very moment. "Not particularly," he sighs, tearing off another piece mindlessly.

"Yes," Aegon muses, "I see you're clearly distracted."

Jon raises a brow at him.

Aegon continues chewing, waving a hand nonchalantly, knife in his grip as he speaks, "The first night can have that affect."

"And you've enough under your belt to advise me on it?" Jon bites out, tongue smarting instantly when the words leave his mouth. He pulls a sharp breath in, turns his gaze to the table.

Aegon stops chewing, swallows slowly – demurely. A humoring smile tugs at his lips. "A wife is different."

Jon does not argue him that one, but he decides to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself, drawing his shoulders back, trying to ease some of the tension there.

Sighing almost wistfully, Aegon sets his cutlery down. "Daenerys has not changed much since that first night." A chuckle lights his lips, almost nostalgic. "Still as demanding and insatiable as ever."

Jon scrunches his nose in distaste, resisting the urge to reach for his wine, wash the lump of bread in his throat down.

"I don't imagine Lady Sansa was so, however."

Jon's gaze snaps to his brother, hand clenching into a fist atop his thigh. He draws a slow, tight breath in.

Aegon cocks his head at Jon, leaning back easily in his chair, eyes glinting sharply – a violet lance cut through the brisk, morning light streaming through the windows. He smiles again, the ends of his lips curled like the whip of a dragon's tail. And then he returns to his food, resuming his meal smoothly. Another bite. A slow, long chew.

Jon watches his brother, knuckles white. "Is this really the conversation you want to be having over breakfast?" he manages tightly.

Aegon makes a small sound of contemplation in his throat, glancing back up at Jon. "My appetite isn't so easily curbed, brother. Is yours?" Aegon swallows, a flash of teeth peeking out beneath his curved lips.

Jon grinds his jaw, his bitterness curling like smoke in his chest – sour and lung-scraping.

Aegon continues with ease. "I do hope at least you enjoyed your evening, brother. Mine was terribly lonesome." He laughs, short and disturbingly bright. "Daenerys would not have me last night."

"I can hardly suspect why," Jon snaps dryly, mouth clamping shut when he realizes what he's said.

Aegon watches him with unblinking eyes, rolling the food around his mouth leisurely, wrists resting atop the table edge, cutlery still in hand.

Jon thinks of the petal crushed under Aegon's boot in the garden, and the flick of the riding crop to the backs of his calves, and the smooth, weathered stone sitting pointedly atop their father's desk.

And then he thinks of the way Aegon had stepped back from Sansa at the wedding feast, a relinquishing sweep of his arm and a brotherly smile aimed his way – how he had not objected to Jon's intrusion, nor his brusque manner.

Jon swallows tightly.

But of course.

He should have known better. Aegon forgets little, and forgives even less.

Jon smooths his hands along his thighs, chest constricting, waiting, poised at a knife's edge.

(He should have known better.)

Aegon leans forward across the table, smirk adorning his lips, brows arched in a conspiratorial look, as though eager to share a well-kept secret. "You've never spilled in a woman before, have you?" he asks softly, almost carefully to any other ear.

Jon hears the edge to it, easily enough.

He works his jaw, eyes fixed to Aegon.

His brother leans back smoothly, smirk still curling the edges of his lips. "Too fearful of spawning a bastard, weren't you?"

Jon has no answer for him, can only turn his gaze away, fix it glaringly to his wine glass, feel his skin prick with a resentment too familiar.

"They're not such terrible things, you know – bastards," Aegon says nonchalantly, setting his knife down to reach for his own glass, bringing it to his lips before he pauses, as though in sudden remembrance, "When properly kept."

Jon blows a breath through his lips, heated and halting, unable to keep the glare from his gaze when he looks back to Aegon.

His brother only offers him a lifted brow, lips stained red with wine when he pulls the glass from his mouth.

Jon feels the words brimming in his throat, rancid and airless – a choke, a strangle – feels his mouth open even still, a recklessness blooming beneath his skin, as heady as it is unfamiliar, and –

The door swings wide, Sansa stepping through, Rhaenys following behind her with a dour expression.

Jon swallows that slice of shame back down –stinging and raw.

"Sisters," Aegon greets, and Jon does not miss the address, nor does Sansa, it seems, as she stops short, blinking doe-eyed at him for a spell, before she's nodding her greeting, cheeks a faint pink, stepping gracefully toward the seat beside Jon. She doesn't meet his eyes.

Rhaenys lets out a scoff at Aegon, shaking her head with pursed lips, settling into the empty space beside him.

Aegon cocks his head in question, eyes drifting to the closed door. "You seem to have lost my wife along the way," he says, amusement lilting his tone.

Rhaenys reaches for the sugared plums instantly. "Daenerys says she's too ill to break her fast with us this morning." Sucking a piece of fruit between her teeth, Rhaenys sends a meaningful look Aegon's way, swallowing after a pointed chew. "She sends her regards." A sugared smile follows the words.

Jon manages to bite back his scoff. It isn't the first time Daenerys has sought to spite Aegon with her absence.

Aegon picks the napkin up from beside Rhaenys' plate and raises it to her with an arched brow. She takes it with a roll of her eyes, dabbing at her sugar-smeared mouth. "I'll have to see to her later, then." His gaze flicks to Jon and he has the unexplainable urge to grab for Sansa's hand next to him. He resists the inclination – only barely. "Make sure she's not too unwell," Aegon finishes, his violet gaze settling back on Rhaenys

She's already filling her plate, well past the conversation.

Beside Jon, Sansa is quietly cutting into her own food. He takes a breath, wills the lingering rage from his face, tries to smooth his brow and his frown and his hardened gaze, dipping his head to catch her eye. "My lady?"

She flickers soft blue eyes up at him and for an instant, they stay staring at each other.

All at once he remembers the way his palm had fit around her thigh and the gasp she'd sounded at his ear and the drowning, bone-singing heat of her when he'd finally sunk inside her. His gaze flicks to her mouth, and watches it purse.

When he glances back up to her eyes, he finds her staring unblinkingly at him, fork halted halfway to her mouth. She clears her throat, settles the fork back to her plate.

Jon glances away, wiping a hand down his mouth. A gruff exhale leaves him, and he reaches for his own fork, eager for a distraction. "I'm sorry for leaving before you woke this morning," he says softly, careful not to let the conversation reach his siblings' ears. He glances up to find the two already occupied by their own discussion, and looks back to Sansa with a barely discernible sigh of relief.

She only nods, glancing down to his hands as he digs into his quickly cooling roast.

"I...had matters to attend to," he mumbles.

He feels the lie shrivel up along his tongue even as it tastes air.

Blessed air.

And that's what he had needed – after waking groggily in the early hours of the morning, body curled loosely around her sleeping form, half-hard at her backside, and he'd wanted nothing more than to trail his fingers down the smooth line of her arm, and then lower over the curve of her hip, her skin warm and supple to the touch, and he'd nearly rocked into her on instinct, lulled by sleep and hazy desire, before the night rushed back to him in a flood of memories.

The pained whimper she'd tried to smother when he'd first entered her, the stiffness of her frame, muscles bunched achingly tight, the way she'd squeezed her eyes shut, those soft, iridescent blues blanking out into shadow -

The way he'd clearly hurt her.

(Warnings mean little to nothing in this house, and Jon should know that by now.)

He swallows thickly, pausing in his determined cutting, eyes blinking furiously down at his plate.

Jon had torn himself from the bed that morning, dressed as swiftly and quietly as he could, and then left Sansa to her slumber.

He tells himself it couldn't have been helped.

He'd tried to be quick about it, tried to bring himself to completion without prolonging her pain, and truth be told, it wasn't particularly difficult when she was so warm beneath him, so soft and breathy, so tight around his cock.

It's easy to get lost in Sansa Stark, he finds.

Except, there's a smaller, more insistent part of him, that tells him he is wrong.

"I intend to do my duty," she'd said, and it had been his unraveling

Jon glances up to Rhaenys, finds her watching him with a perceptive stare. He growls his frustration beneath his breath, tearing back into his food.

Sansa does not answer him, only nods mutely, gaze flicking back to her own plate.

His eyes sting.

And what a stupid, foolish hope.

(The realization is blinding.)

He understands now, what he'd been so adamant to smother before, what he'd been unable to admit to, even in the darkest parts of him.

He wants her.

He wants her – maddeningly.

"You will never be more to her than duty."

He only wishes she wanted him back.

* * *

"Alright, I've been patient enough I think," Margaery says on a laugh, shuffling closer to Sansa in her seat. "You must tell me how the wedding night went. Was it everything you'd hoped for?"

Sansa blinks alarmingly wide eyes up at Margaery, hand stilling halfway off the table, cream puff caught between her thumb and forefinger. "The wedding night?" she manages after a gulp.

Margaery cocks her head, a mischievous smile tugging charmingly at her lips. "Yes, of course. From what I saw at the feast, your Jon simply couldn't wait to get you back to your chambers." She shivers deliciously, leaning closer to the younger woman over the armrest of her chair.

Sansa drops the pastry in her hand back down to her plate, going for the napkin in her lap, throat tightening. "Yes, well, it was...unexpected." She smooths her hands over the napkin in her lap, the breeze from the open gardens fluttering strands of copper around her face.

"I'm sure," Margaery smirks. She urges her on with a waving motion of her hand.

Sansa bites her lip, and then she turns fully in her seat to face the Tyrell, brows furrowed sharply. "Margaery, he... he tried to touch me... well, there." She bites her lip again, a flush of remembrance branching through her, cheeks heating.

"I should hope so," she says, a laugh bubbling at the edges of her lips, before she catches the expression Sansa wears, her smile wilting instantly. She clears her throat, straightening in her seat. "And that...unsettled you?" she asks now, voice calmer.

Sansa wears a worried thumb into her opposite palm, watching the motion. "I didn't want him to," she says, and she remembers, instantly, the heat that had suffused her when he did, the almost uncontrollable urge to shift her hips up toward his touch, to chase that fluttering thrum of nerves that ricocheted through her. She clamps her mouth tight around the words, chest tight with her embarrassment.

Oh, but what would Margaery think of her? What would her mother think of her?

"Sansa," Margaery says, infinitely soft, her gaze concerned, body shifted toward her. "Did he..." She stops, brows bunched tightly together, voice working over hoarse words. "Did he hurt you?"

Sansa blinks back up at her, head shaking vehemently. "Oh no, I mean, yes, well – Mother always said – I mean –" Sansa sighs, takes a deep breath, tries to control her raging heart. "I knew there would be some pain the first time, but I... I didn't..."

Margaery's hand curls over hers in her lap, stilling the nervous motion of her thumb against her palm. The touch is light, comforting. "Sansa," she begins, eyes imploring on hers, "When he kissed you, when he touched you, did he not – "

"Oh, he never kissed me."

Margaery blinks at her, suddenly alarmed. "Sansa."

"I couldn't... I couldn't let him."

Margaery's brows dip down in confusion. "You couldn't...?"

She shakes her head, hand turning beneath Margaery's to link her fingers through hers, palm to palm. "I wasn't ready for that. To be kissed – oh, but I want it to mean something, Margaery. I want it to be more than expectation, and I couldn't help remembering all those stories from the books, and the songs, and the tales, and is it wrong? To want such a thing? Even still? Is it wrong, Margaery?"

It was too intimate.

His hand on her thigh, and his stiffness pressed between her legs, and the heat of his bare stomach braced against hers and still -

None of it could compare to the intimacy of his breath fanning her lips, his dark stare through the candlelight, the pink tip of his tongue edging out to wet his lips.

He could fuck her ragged and still, she'd never be as breathless as she'd been in that moment, when he'd stared at her, leant down, moved to take her mouth with his.

To taste and touch and know each other.

To share breath.

No, Sansa had not been ready for such intimacy. And even when he'd slipped inside her, and even when he'd spilled inside her, and even when he'd fallen asleep beside her once they'd taken their turns at the wash basin – even then -

She couldn't let him kiss her.

Margaery rubs a comforting thumb along her knuckles, a sad sigh leaving her. "Oh, dear girl."

"It will come with time," Sansa says reassuringly, mostly to herself. "With care and time, I will try to love him. And maybe then..." She trails off, eyes glancing over the table. She never finishes the thought.

Margaery stays silent at her side for many moments, just holding her hand, letting the silken afternoon light dance across the table set. And then she makes a sound like a hum, thoughtful and cautious, leaning back in her chair as her hand slips from Sansa's. "Sansa, let me ask you something."

She raises a brow in question, expectant.

Margaery seems to mull over her words a moment, expression still cautious and concerned. "When he touched you – when he tried to... to ease you – did you like it?"

Sansa's mouth parts, cheeks heating.

(His calloused palm at her thigh, the graze of his fingers along the edge of her smallclothes, the hot pant of his breath at her ear.)

Did you like it?

The question presses sharp and insistent at the edges of her mind.

Sansa swallows tightly, eyes searching Margaery's. "That would be... improper."

Margaery cocks her head, voice still soft and careful. "Why?"

"I do not love him." The answer leaves her far more readily than she expects, and it carves a longing in her chest she isn't prepared for – a gentle throbbing between her ribs. She swallows back the trepidation.

Shifting in her seat, Margaery inclines her head toward Sansa, eyes focused. "And what if I told you that didn't matter?"

Sansa stares at her, brows scrunched in thought, hands bunching together in her lap once more. "What do you mean?"

Margaery blows a steady breath through her lips, a thoughtful expression gracing her face. "What if I told you, there can be pleasure regardless of love? What if I told you, you deserved it, even still?"

Sansa blinks at her, a frown marring her features instantly. "But I don't..."

"Dear girl, there is already enough grief in this world without you sabotaging your own marriage. Let the man please you. It seems he wants to, at least, which is more than can be said of most husbands."

Sansa's frown deepens, an uncomfortable warmth unfurling in her chest, something close to yearning, if she lets herself linger on it for too long. "And what makes you think he has any interest in that regard?"

At this, Margaery throws a baleful look her way, lips pursed as though in disappointment. "Anyone who saw him with you at the wedding feast couldn't say otherwise," she remarks pointedly.

"Gods, but that was embarrassing," she sighs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, hands tightening in their hold atop her lap.

Margaery seems to notice the shift, straightening somewhat, interest piqued. She rests her hands along her armrests languidly, a finely-arched brow aimed Sansa's way. "Was it, now?" There's a devilish curve to her lips that Sansa thinks she should be wary of, but she's too caught in her remembrance of the night to notice.

She huffs her irritation. "Of course," Sansa presses on a heavy exhale, chin turned up. "To be so... so rude and brazen, in the midst of everyone, and to the crown prince! To paw at me like some... some... possession. To touch me so in public." Sansa scoffs, her derision staining her tongue. "No, no, I did not enjoy that one bit." Her chest heaves, her hands wringing in her lap, tongue caught behind her clenched teeth.

Margaery merely peers at her.

She finds the look disconcerting, a hesitance washing over her when she looks at the Tyrell, suddenly small and unsure in her midst. "What?" she asks tentatively, barely trusting the word.

A slow, knowing smile slips across Margaery's lips, her hand reaching for Sansa's once more.

Sansa startles at the touch, but doesn't pull away. She glances down to their joined hands, finds her gaze fixed to Margaery's sun-touched hand as she swipes a comforting thumb along her knuckles once more.

"You know," she starts, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips, "It'd be okay if you did, Sansa."

Sansa only furrows her brows at the words, her confusion lighting her face.

Margaery's smirk goes full-blown. "If you enjoyed it, that is."

Sansa pulls her hand from hers, a sharp breath sucked through her lips. "Margaery!" she scolds, even as the smile touches her lips.

But the other woman only laughs, settling back along her chair. She takes a moment, smothering her chuckle behind a graceful hand. "Don't be so cruel to yourself, dear girl." Her smile grows fond, and then an abstract sort of sorrow lines her face, softening her beyond measure. "You don't have to love him," she says, hand tightening over Sansa's. "That's not what this is about."

Sansa sighs, her humor leaving her instantly, eyes drifting to their joined hands.

"We women deal with enough pain in this world without having to endure it from our husbands," she says solemnly, hand tightening over hers. "Take your pleasure where you can, Sansa. And do not be ashamed of it." Her eyes are fervent on hers, imploring, and Sansa feels her chest constricting beneath the look.

Did you like it?

Sansa thinks of the way he'd yanked her to him, the dark gaze he'd leveled Aegon with, the greedy press of his fingers along her ribs.

Did you like it?

Gods help her, but she did.

And nothing had scared her more.

* * *

Sex becomes perfunctory.

"I'll be gentler," he says on the second night, voice hesitant – the pale imitation of an apology, even in its sincerity – and Sansa fiddles with the tie of her robe, standing near the bed.

He's watching her from the threshold, his tunic already unlaced, and when she nods in response, a cool breath leaving her with the motion, he takes a breath, flexes his hands at his side, and then strides across the room toward her.

It begins anew.

They each know what is expected of them, after all.

When he eases into her this time, it's impossibly slower, a long, ragged breath leaving him, his jaw clenching at the effort. Beneath him, Sansa bites her lip, seizing up again, staring up at him in the dark, never looking away, and he has to glance down to her chest, the edge of her shift still adorning her, has to brace a hand along the bed at her head and still himself, let her adjust.

She reaches for his shoulder with a gentle squeeze, an indication to move, and Jon does.

Her legs fit around his hips easily now, her hands more sure at his shoulders. Every night, he still finds hazel oil at her folds when he sets himself to her entrance. Perhaps he is foolish in hoping to find otherwise. She doesn't jump like that first night anymore though, when he touches her between her thighs to line himself up.

He never touches more – knowing how unappreciated it is.

He never tries to kiss her either, and he thinks he hears the light breath of relief escape her lips when he drops his head to her shoulder instead, unable to bear her gaze any longer without wanting to crash his mouth to hers, to hike her thighs higher up his hips, to reach between her legs and ease some of that tension out with a wet thumb.

So, he braces his mouth to her shoulder, panting into her flesh, pumping into her with a steady, even pace that draws no whimpers but draws no winces either, and this he will have to be satisfied with.

Because if he cannot bring her pleasure than at least he can avoid bringing her pain.

He tries to make it good for her, in what little ways he can – always settles her with the pillow beneath her head, tries to massage the smooth flesh of her thighs when he's spreading her wide, manages to keep his teeth from catching along her collar bone with his ragged need, never drops atop her when he's finished, passes her the wet cloth from the bedside basin first and keeps his dark gaze turned from her when she's sopping up the seed spilling from her cunt with flushed cheeks and a still-heaving chest.

One night he swears he hears her breath hitch when he angles himself deeper, strokes inside her along a spot that has his eyes rolling back, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as her knees tighten at his waist. But when he finally looks down at her, her eyes are closed, her brow scrunched, as though she is trying to ride something out, and Jon thinks it must be pain.

He curses himself and draws back out, keeps to shallower thrusts, misses the curl of her nails along his back when her grip relinquishes him.

Another night she lets him cup her breast through her shift, his hand toying at the end of the fabric until she nods hesitantly, his rough palm closing around the mound unsurely, the sigh raking from him when he feels her heat beneath his touch, her heartbeat beating a rhythm against his palm, and he squeezes – gently. She arches imperceptibly, a sound curled in her throat, and she turns her head away. He barely contains his growl of impatience, dipping his head to her throat instead, lips latching to the skin there and palming at her through the shift, rutting until he spills, and her heartbeat never wanes, still frantic beneath his hand. He stays inside her for as long as he can get away with, pulling from her when she touches a delicate hand to his neck, the press of her fingers light enough to send him spinning, aching and desperate again.

He rolls from her with a hand raked through his curls, jaw clenching, his control like a taut string she plucks at precariously, unknowingly.

Because her every sigh he wants to drag out into a breathy moan, every rise of her chest he wants to bow into a delicious arch, every purse of her lips he wants to draw into a needy howl of his name.

To have her writhing beneath him, whining at his ear, coming apart for him with a splintered cry and her cunt clenching around his cock, to watch her break and crest and surge beneath his hands, to drive her to madness for him.

To draw it wildly from her – like a snarling wolf.

To sink his teeth in her and let her do the same.

To taste.

Sansa buries her face in his shoulder when he grunts his release atop her, a low curse panted in her hair, his fingers dug into the flesh of her hip.

She'll drive him mad soon, he knows.

She sleeps always with her back to him.

Jon takes to sparring with the eldest Stark often, a means of releasing some of the frustration he cannot release upon her, and Robb offers little but a raised brow when he comes demanding his presence in the training yard with a scowl and a nod jerked in the opposite direction. Robb always follows with a laugh, and more than once, Jon has found himself panting ragged at the end of a fight, tugging the collar of his tunic open harshly, chest heaving, sweat matting his curls to his forehead, and his body's absolutely thrumming, absolutely screaming beneath his skin, ready to rip and roar and -

And fuck.

Jon rakes a hand through his hair roughly, catching sight of Sansa at the edge of the training yard, gripping at the column she leans against, watching him with unblinking eyes.

He thinks he must be imagining the way she licks her lips, the way she bares her throat just so, the way her nails curl along the column.

(Because he can't be the only one – he just can't be.

Even when every trembling line of her body is telling him otherwise.)

Jon frowns at her presence, mouth opening, but never getting the chance to speak.

"It's been a while since we've had a turn, brother. Shall we?"

Jon's gaze whips to Aegon coming up behind Robb, swinging a blade casually, the hilt rolling through his fingers with practiced ease.

Robb frowns at the motion, eyes alighting the blade. "Live steel, my lord?" he asks cautiously.

Jon bites his tongue.

And so, the punishment continues.

Aegon's eyes dance with violet exhilaration beneath the afternoon soon and Jon nods toward Robb, motioning for him to join his sister. "Step aside, Stark." It isn't said callously, but Robb seems to recognize the edge to it regardless. He joins Sansa at the edge of the yard without further word.

Jon sighs, catching the blade Aegon tosses his way, and the spar begins.

Aegon has always been exceptionally good with a blade, but Jon's always been better. He weaves around Aegon with surety, stepping lightly, letting his blade miss just barely, letting Aegon's swings avoid him just barely.

It is a dance he learned the steps to long ago.

He is a well-kept bastard, after all.

Jon swings low – too low. And Aegon parries it easily, as he'd expected, knocking him back, and Jon stumbles a step, muscles tensing in anticipation, ready for the blow, as he turns his head just enough to miss the brunt of Aegon's responding swing, but not enough to miss the slice of the tip up his jaw, a thin arc of blood catching the air and Jon winces at the pain, a hand clamping over the wound when he stumbles back.

Aegon smiles triumphantly, blade stilled in an over-arch.

Sansa's gasp of "Jon!" has him nearly biting down on his tongue, and it takes all of him not to turn to her, a feral sort of need curling in his chest.

Aegon's blade tips into the dirt. "Well fought, brother." The words are accompanied by an appreciative nod, a narrowing of his eyes, fair skin glinting with a sheen of sweat that Aegon somehow manages to make look graceful rather than grimy.

Jon pulls his hand from his cut, collaring his glare, a tight swallow his only answer.

And then Sansa is at his elbow, one hand turning him in her grasp and the other reaching for his jaw. He pulls from her more harshly than he intends, but he doesn't think he can manage to bear her searching touch or her scrutinizing gaze this very moment.

Sansa retracts from him slowly, clearly hurt by the rejection of her touch.

Jon closes his eyes, breathes deep, opens his eyes on the exhale.

Aegon is standing with his hands behind his back, sword still held in his grip, head cocked toward Sansa. "Did you enjoy the match, my lady?"

Sansa opens her mouth, closes it, folds her hands demurely before her. "You are an exceptional swordsman, my lord," she says softly.

Jon's gaze snaps to her finally, watching the way she doesn't meet Aegon's eyes, her thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a motion of unease. He narrows his eyes at her.

"Well," Aegon begins, a light smack of his lips following the words, "With such a fair lady in the audience, I imagine it is any man's wish to prove their prowess." His smile branches out like a spill of rich wine, his head dipping down toward hers, voice lowering. "I admit, I am not immune to such powers, my lady," he says without faltering, eyes never leaving hers.

Jon glances to the side, fist already curling, tongue already tart with his rage.

"You're too kind," Sansa answers, and Jon feels her gaze on him, her figure a rigid line in his peripheral.

Jon presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, holds it there, tries to drown out the rush of blood.

To rip and roar and fuck.

His hands burn for her – maybe especially so with Aegon eyeing her so intently.

But his brother only chuckles, glancing back to Jon. "You should tend to your husband, Lady Sansa." His voice goes hollow – a dead expel of air. The ends of his mouth ease down, his smile uncurling like smoke. "He's bleeding," he says, sharp and cursory.

Sansa's hand slips along Jon's elbow, curling along the crook of it. "I shall," she says evenly, no tremble to be heard.

Jon, however, is practically quaking with his fury.

It doesn't abate until Aegon is stalking from the courtyard, until Sansa is turning him in her hands for another look at his jaw, huffing at his reluctance, until he meets Robb's eyes over her shoulder, intent and watchful.

Until Sansa is tugging him from the yard and he's trailing after her skirts, mouth full of useless words, his hand clutched in hers.

Until the spot between her shoulder blades becomes a blur beneath his heavy stare.

Until he is too far gone to ever turn back now.

* * *

"Take off your tunic," she says, wringing out the cloth in the basin beside him. When he doesn't move to do so, Sansa glances over to him, finding him leaning with his elbows over his knees, a bemused brow quirked. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "The blood will set if we don't clean it immediately," she explains, motioning to the splatter of blood along the collar.

Jon considers her a moment quietly, and then he's reaching along his back for the material, tugging it up and out of his breeches, over his broad shoulders and head. He bunches the tunic in his hands, holding it out to her expectantly, chest sweat-lined and sun-kissed.

Sansa keeps her gaze deliberately fixed to his as she grabs for the soiled garment, handing it off behind her to the waiting handmaid without breaking her stare. Her throat flexes tightly, and Jon seems to catch the motion, a slow, predatory smile tugging at his lips, half hidden in his beard.

Gods, but she can clearly see every sinewy cord of muscle she'd only ever seen before by candlelight.

The handmaid exits the rooms with the tunic swiftly, closing the door behind her, and then they are alone.

Jon leans back in his chair slowly, hands sliding over his thighs, shoulders pulled back as he watches her.

Sansa frowns at the deliberate display, reaching for his chin with perhaps a bit too much force and turning his head away from her. "We'll have to clean the cut," she gets out in a hoarse voice, dabbing the wet cloth to the wound.

Jon lets out an exasperated sigh, but does not fight her touch, letting her clean the thin cut down the length of his jaw. Sansa is focused, brow furrowed, swiping the blood clean that she can through his beard, dipping it back into the water, wringing it out, drawing it further and further down his jaw. She hardly notices the soft puff of his breaths or the way he watches her out of the corner of his eye, so intent on her task as she is. She cocks her head to see the underside of his jaw, to swipe at the blood drying there, tipping his chin in her delicate hold, and he acquiesces easily. But the light isn't good, and it's a bad angle from where she stands at the edge of his knees, so when she presses into them on instinct and he parts them for her, her skirts brushing along the inside of his thighs as she steps into the vee of his legs, she doesn't even note the shift, instead, taking advantage of the new position to better see the trail of blood drying along his throat.

She bends further, hair slipping over her shoulder, fingers perched beneath his jaw. Another swipe of the cloth. Slow and measured. Sansa watches the faint bob of his Adam's apple, the flex of sweat-soaked skin across his throat, and suddenly she remembers the way that throat had looked above her just the other night, with him braced atop her, driving into her with sure and steady thrusts. She remembers the clench of muscle along his neck when he'd spilled inside her.

Sansa's lips part, an unsteady breath leaving her. She's suddenly very aware of how close she stands to him, the steady rise and fall of his bare chest beneath her, how she need only lean a handful of breaths closer to bury her face against his neck. She presses harshly along the half-dried blood marring his jaw.

"You could have parried that last swing," she manages in a thin voice. She clears her throat, swallows back the quiver, hopes he doesn't notice it.

Jon doesn't answer her.

She frowns at the silence, wet cloth dipping along the edge of his collar bone now. She huffs. "Why didn't you?"

Jon takes a slow, deep breath, and Sansa can't help the way her eyes drift to the broad expanse of his muscled chest at the motion. She averts her eyes quickly.

And then he's reaching for the hair spilling over her shoulder, fingers snaking around the end of a softly curled tendril. Sansa stills with her hand at his throat, glancing at the gesture from the corner of her eye.

A sound brews in his throat, low and contemplative, his dark eyes fixed to the strand of copper between his fingers. "At our wedding feast," he begins, ignoring her question, "When you danced with my brother – were you not as upset with his familiarity as you were with mine?"

Sansa grips the cloth between white knuckles, drawing back enough to properly look at him. His hand at the edge of her hair keeps her from stepping back out of the space between his legs. She wonders if he intended it so. She stays resolutely silent.

A short, subtle quirk of his lip lights his face before it's gone. "Or did you welcome it?"

Sansa swallows tightly. "A lady must always be courteous."

Jon's gaze drops to her laced-in side, the fingertips of his free hand suddenly grazing the edge of her waist. His voice is low and breathy. "And your compliment on his swordsmanship? That was courtesy?"

Raising her chin, Sansa watches him with wary eyes. "A lady must also be conscious of her station."

Jon scoffs at the word 'station', his hand folding more surely around her waist, giving it the slightest tug so that she stumbles even closer, her hands going to his shoulders to steady herself. She sucks a sharp breath between her teeth at the jostle, watching as he gazes up at her, his face hovering just above her stomach. "A lady must be so many things," he mocks, his other hand curling tightly over the hair in his grip. "One has to wonder if she manages to ever be herself amidst all that decorum."

She remembers his warning to curb her tongue, suddenly. She smarts beneath the hypocrisy. Sansa's chest tightens with her frustration, the air stalling in her throat. She stares down at him with an air of incredulity.

Jon's hand branches over her waist possessively. "Or have I simply married a pretty little doll? Easily filled with other people's opinions about what she should be?"

Sansa's eyes narrow so quickly he almost misses it, her jaw clenching beneath her ire. His responding smirk incites her more, and she's reaching over to the basin then, dropping the cloth back into the water unceremoniously. "I've watched my brothers sparring often enough back home to recognize a thrown match when I see one."

Jon's hand tightens over her waist, his mouth pursing up at her.

"If even I can see it, who else do you think has noticed?" she says sharply.

Jon untangles his fingers from her hair.

Sansa raises her chin, a tight breath drawn through her lungs. "I doubt Prince Aegon would care very much for you coddling him, were he to know." She moves to step back, but he reaches for her with both hands now, gripping at her hips, steadying her against him as he glares back up at her, eyes hooded and dark.

"You have a particular interest in what my brother cares for?" he intones darkly, fingers curling tight along her hips, bunching in the fabric of her dress.

She glares back just as intensely, trying to ignore the way his steady grip lights a heat even through her heavy skirts, his fingertips marring the curve of her hips with his imprint. A long, charged moment passes between them, with neither relenting, until finally, Sansa brushes a delicate hand to the cut at his jaw, eyes still steel, mouth still cut into a sharp frown. "I'll call Maester Gregor to stitch that for you." She doesn't acknowledge the quiver underlining the words – swallows them back quickly. Her hand falls from his face. "Have you any further need of me, husband?"

Jon grinds his teeth, still glaring up at her, a shadow passing over his face, and then gone. He releases her instantly, almost forcefully. "No," he says simply, gaze falling to the wayside.

She steps from his overwhelming presence immediately, pretending to miss the clench of his fists along his thighs when she does.

"My lord," she says, nodding in farewell, before turning for the door and never looking back.

* * *

Daenerys is pregnant.

They discover it when she doesn't arrive for breakfast one morning, Aegon striding into the room to his chair, hands resting along the back of it as he blinks dazedly at the table.

Rhaenys pulls the spoon from her mouth. "No Daenerys tonight? Is she ill again?" A worried furrow of her brow mars her features.

"I've just come from the maester," he says slowly, eyes drifting to his sister's. "She's with child." He releases the words on a heavy breath.

Sansa's mouth parts, her shock overcoming her for a moment, before she regains her manners, setting her napkin to the table with a warm smile. "That's wonderful news, my lord."

His gaze flicks to Sansa, settling on her a moment, before returning the smile with a lilt of his lips, an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Lady Sansa."

"How is she?" Rhaenys asks, spoon stilled over her grapefruit.

Sansa glances to the princess at the tender exhale of her words.

Aegon steps around his chair, settling a hand at the back of Rhaenys' head. "It is no more than the common sickness, they say. She is well." He offers her a reassuring smile, fragile and barely there.

The image is striking to Sansa.

Aegon's hand falls from Rhaenys' hair when she nods in answer, lips pressed into a concerned but warm smile.

"Congratulations, brother," Jon says beside her, voice gruff as he leans back in his seat. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Aegon looks at him, then to Sansa, and then just as swiftly, back to Jon. "Yes," he says, "It is." A lick of his lips, hands returning to the back of his chair.

It's a decidedly delicate flicker of movement, nothing deliberate about it. It's almost...unnerving, in its fragility – the way Aegon's fingers curl around the back arch, the way his chest fills with his breath, lips turning up into a faint smile.

Sansa shifts in her seat, hands smoothing out over her thighs, before curling in her lap. She glances to Jon out of the corner of her eye. He's staring at his plate now, his hand curled into a loose fist along his armrest, and he's so close, she realizes suddenly. Close enough to touch.

Her hand moves to curl around his forearm, hovering hesitantly in the air, before retracting back to her lap. He takes no notice, and Sansa breathes deep, settling the roaring pit of her stomach.

To taste and touch and know each other.

She sighs, eyes flicking back up toward Aegon. He's watching her steadily, and Sansa almost startles at the look. She flutters another encouraging smile toward the prince, throat tightening. "I'm sure you're very happy," she says.

Aegon cocks his head, a thoughtful purse to his lips. "I am, my lady."

Jon picks his fork and knife up beside her, cutting into his food with a single-minded focus. "The quail's getting cold."

Sansa turns to him, mouth open to scold his brusqueness, but she sees the tight clench of his jaw, and her mouth closes abruptly.

It isn't until later, when she's walking the gardens arm in arm with Margaery beneath a slowly waning sun, that she thinks on it again.

That stiffness in his jaw, the muscles of his arm flexing – all cold and callousness when he's bristling beneath something, and yes, she's become accustomed to his moods long enough to notice when he's bristling.

She wonders when that happened.

Maybe it's because she knows now, the gentle ease that can be found in his palms, the vulnerable quake that can be found in his breath, the decidedly not cold and callousness of his gaze when she's spread beneath him, taut beneath his fingers like the chord of a harp.

Maybe it's because of the way he looks at her these days.

Maybe it's because she's starting to look back.

"Margaery," she says, clearing her throat.

The Tyrell cocks her head to listen, a quirk to her lip in answer.

Sansa's hand tightens along Margaery's elbow. "Do you think Aegon and Daenerys love each other?"

Margaery laughs, short and bright, tapping Sansa's hand affectionately as they continue their stroll. "I think there are many things those two feel for each other, but I cannot rightly say whether any of it is love." She offers an impish grin. "Why do you ask?"

Sansa's gaze turns toward the path, lips pursed. "I don't know. I think I just..." She sighs, shaking her head. "I suppose there must be something of love between them, indiscernible as it may be to others."

Margaery plucks a nearby low-hanging flower off the vine, twirling the short stem between her fingers as they continue. "Because they're expecting?" There's something incredulous to her tone. "Sansa, any beast can breed."

She's taken aback by the words, even as softly-crafted as they are, melodically spoken, no hint of malice.

(The image of Jon, sweat-lined and panting above her, streaks through her mind. Her stomach turns without warning.)

Sansa bites her lip. She thinks, instead, of the look Aegon had let flutter across his face, perhaps even without meaning to, earlier that morning.

More exposed than she's ever seen him, except perhaps during their dance at her wedding, his eyes sweeping out over the room for his salt-haired wife upon her question.

"It is the wish of every marriage, is it not?"

Sansa blinks back the memory, another one stealing swiftly behind it. Jon's breath fanning her lips, his chest hard-pressed to hers, a dangerous glint to his eye – how the heat of him had burned her to the bone when he took her in his arms across the dancefloor, even as her sharp tongue cut into him with a branding chastisement.

He'd only held her tighter, never relinquished his hold, let her rebuke him without interruption.

That heat hadn't dissipated until well into the night, long after he'd spent inside her for the first time, long after she laid awake staring up at the canopy, listening to his soft breaths behind her, wondering if sleep eluded him as well.

She thinks she should have turned to him then, broached the silence, reached for something tentative and shadowed between them – something to hold onto in the comfort of night, where they may be free to be 'Jon and Sansa' outside of 'husband and wife'.

(She hadn't though, in the end. She'd only pulled the sheets up to her chest and turned her face into the pillow, craven and lonely – but mostly –

Mostly, afraid.

Of herself, more than anything.)

"That's not it," she tells Margaery, brows furrowing, steps never stalling. She glances out across the gardens, catches sight of the fountain coming around the bend, the faint light of dusk glinting off the waters like a mirage. She keeps her silence for many moments, watching the soft splash of water as they glide past, her throat tight.

Margaery fondly taps her cheek with the flower, a cheerful motion, even when her voice goes solemn, hesitant. "Is this about you and Jon?"

Sansa gives her an exasperated look but Margaery is undaunted. She merely raises a brow, a pointed look thrown Sansa's way.

"Jon and I – we..." A heavy sigh, a one-shouldered shrug. "We're still learning each other."

Margaery gives her a sharp look, barely managing to keep the disappointment from her face.

If she thinks Sansa a coward, she kindly doesn't say so. It wouldn't matter, though.

Sansa already thinks herself coward enough.

She sighs again, brushing a tendril of hair from her face. "Gods, I'm pathetic."

Margaery stops then, her hold on Sansa halting her as well, and she turns fully to her, eyes searching hers, lips tipped into a pretty frown.

Sansa blinks at her, brows raising in question.

Margaery takes a breath, hand sliding down Sansa's arm to clasp along her own palm. "Do you think Daenerys happy?"

She blinks at the question, glancing down to their joined hands, and then back up. Margaery is staring at her intently, and Sansa finds herself growing hesitant under the gaze. She fumbles for her words. "I don't..."

"In your eyes, does she seem happy to you?"

Sansa clamps her mouth shut, the words stalling along her tongue. She takes a breath, shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "No," she manages, a soft expel of breath.

Margaery only nods, a gentle thumb grazing over her knuckles. "And do you really think a babe is going to change that?"

Sansa bites her lip, a sudden sorrow lighting her bones. She thinks of Daenerys' self-assured words and her perfect posture and her unabashed gaze, all exceedingly graceful, and yet... somehow empty.

It saddens something great in Sansa.

"No," she answers – truthfully.

Margaery looks at her a moment longer, contemplative. "A babe is not the highest aspiration of love, Sansa, no matter what your Septa told you," she scoffs gently.

Sansa opens her mouth –

"Nor should it be," Margaery continues, hand tightening over hers.

Sansa's mouth clamps shut, her brows furrowed.

"Duty is all well and good, Sansa, but will it keep you warm at night? Will it weather the years with you? Will it grow old and grey beside you?"

Her chest aches at the words, her eyes stinging suddenly. She lets out a rueful laugh, the sound catching in her throat. "Take my pleasure where I can?" she asks, repeating Margaery's earlier words with a sardonic smile.

The other woman only offers a comforting gaze, patting her hand once more before releasing it, winding her arm through hers and continuing their trek through the gardens. "Quite," she says succinctly, chin tipped high.

The light has grown dim across the gardens, and they turn back toward the keep in unison. Sansa considers the other woman a moment longer, before leaning into her, whispering almost conspiratorially, "Do you think pleasure can become love with time?"

Margaery mulls the question over, rolling the stem of the forgotten flower between the pads of her fingertips once more. "Perhaps. For some."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then it is still pleasure," she says simply.

Sansa raises her brows at that, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

It's not an untruth, really.

And what guarantee does Sansa have that her union with Jon will nurture love? What guarantee has she at all that he even wants the same?

Sansa looks ahead, steps light and even, hand crooked into the hollow of Margaery's elbow.

Wolves have never been craven things.

So why should she start now?

Sansa draws her back straight, eyes instinctively searching for the high window that is hers and Jon's bedchamber.

Yes.

She will take her pleasure where she can.

"Sansa, would you..." Margaery trails off, fingers clenching around the flower in her grasp, a nervous sort of tremor making her shake her hand out, tossing the flower to the wayside with a long look. She breathes deep, tucks her hand more surely into Sansa's arm. "Would you find it terribly improper of me if I asked to write your brother back at Winterfell?"

Sansa turns wide eyes to Margaery, but the other woman's staring intently ahead, cheeks deceptively unflushed in the growing shadows, a nonchalant sway to her walk that is entirely too contrived in Sansa's eyes.

She smiles devilishly. "Well, I don't think he'd particularly appreciate letters from a strange woman, even one of such a noble house."

Margaery glances at her, brows raised, mouth parted with no sound coming out.

Sansa can hardly contain her giggle. "Though my brother Rickon is too sweet to tell you such himself," she teases.

Margaery stops, mouth gaping, and then a laugh breaks from her, a hand swatting at Sansa's arm good-naturedly. "Sansa, you terrible thing, I meant Robb," she near shrieks in laughter.

"Oh, Robb, is it? Just Robb? Not 'Lord Robb'? So intimate already?" Sansa cannot curb her smirk as she watches Margaery huff.

"You're teasing me."

"And rightfully so." Sansa beams.

Margaery tuts dramatically. "I find this friendship terribly one-sided, Lady Sansa. I am aghast at your insensitivity to my plight."

"Oh, how unladylike of me."

Margaery nuzzles at her cheek, laughing.

Sansa can hardly imagine why such a self-possessed woman would need her approval or opinion, but she is glad to give it, nonetheless. She clutches at Margaery's arm, keeping her close, smile never breaking from her face. It's a meaningful look she gives her, a warmth blossoming in her chest. "Take your pleasure where you can, Margaery," she says.

Margaery presses a swift, full kiss to her temple, smile etched against her skin, hand braced to the back of her head. "Then I shall," she whispers gleefully.

Sansa shakes her head at her, pulling back slightly. "Though I do imagine Robb is like to be the one to write first. Horrendous restraint, that one."

Margaery's laugh fills the night air.

Sansa is warm all the way back to her room.

* * *

Sansa sits at her vanity table, turning the vial of hazel oil over in her hand. She glances back up to her reflection in the mirror, braid undone over her shoulder, the thin silk robe parted over her white shift, the faint outline of her breasts barely visible in the flicker of candlelight atop the vanity.

And this is what Jon sees each night before they go to bed.

Sansa sighs, placing the vial back on the table top.

Do not be ashamed of it, she tells herself, repeating Margaery's words like a mantra. But she doesn't quite understand how it works without it.

She closes her eyes, thinks back to that first night he'd slid his fingers up her folds, and the jolt that shot through her at the touch. She curls her fingers around the edge of her shift at her thighs.

Maybe it all starts there.

Her knees part hesitantly, her eyes still fluttered closed, drawing the hem of her shift up her thighs, settling it at her hips. Taking a long, slow breath, feeling the tightness pricking at her chest, she trails a finger over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, dipping down between her legs.

She imagines spreading her legs for him, the warm, rough pressure of his palms urging her thighs apart, settling his weight in the cradle of her hips.

A shuddering sigh escapes her parted lips. Her hand presses against her clothed cunt, a sharp drop in her gut jerking her hips unconsciously at the motion. She snaps her eyes open.

Her image in the mirror is the most scandalous Sansa has ever seen, thighs parted eagerly, shift bunched up at the waist, chest already heaving, cheeks flushed, and then there – there – her cunt pushing toward the pressure of her palm, fingers curling down over her smallclothes. She gasps at the image, her hand retracting, and she brushes something – gods, something wonderful, a shudder racking her, a soft moan caught between her teeth, surprising herself, and before she even knows what she's doing, her hand is returning, seeking that spark, that surge, fingers more sure now, pressing over her smallclothes for something – for –

"Ah!" Sansa whimpers, hips jerking, fingers finding home. She rubs at the soft nub through her smallclothes again, feeling the dampness, head lolling back, hips bucking up into her own tentative touch, and another moan makes it past her clenched teeth, nearly loud enough to cover the sound of the door unlatching, but not quite, and Sansa rips her hand from between her legs, fumbling to replace her shift, smoothing her breath out, feeling that clench in her cunt even now, aching and eager, and she bites down on her lip to keep from trembling just when Jon stalks through the door.

Her eyes catch along his in the mirror when he stops short, the door slipping closed behind him.

For the horrifying stretch of an instant, Sansa thinks she's been caught out.

Her mortification is almost enough to drown out her arousal.

(Almost, but not quite.)

Jon's brow furrows as he steps toward her. "Are you well, my lady?"

Sansa releases a forced chuckle, a practiced scoff. "I'm still unused to this heat," she says, brushing the hair from her shoulders, hoping the light sheen of sweat at her brow is not construed otherwise, nor the faint flush of her cheeks she still catches in the reflection.

Jon stares at her a moment, considering, before nodding silently, seeming to accept her answer, and then making his way to the bed. He sits along the edge and goes to remove his boots.

Sansa feels the air rake from her chest in faint relief. Her body is still wound tight, her skin thrumming, heat lancing through her, and she watches Jon undress in the reflection of the mirror, hands curled over her knees in anticipation, lip caught between her teeth.

He's down to his sleeping tunic when he sits back along the edge of the bed again, his back to her, a heavy sigh leaving him.

Sansa stands with a surety she hasn't felt in many moons. She makes her way to the bed, settling along the opposite edge. In her peripheral, she can see the vial of hazel oil still lingering atop her vanity – untouched.

It will be the only thing untouched tonight, she promises.

With trembling fingers, she begins to slip the robe from her shoulders. It flutters to the furs just as Jon's voice hits the air.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I – I think I've had the wrong of it all this time."

Sansa stills, hands curled along the material of her robe, ready to drag it from the bed, her gaze flicking over her shoulder toward him.

His back is still to her, his hands hung between his knees as his elbows rest along his thighs.

She licks her lips, shifts to pull a knee up along the bed, angled toward him. "My lord?"

Another sigh racks him, and he's rubbing his face then.

Sansa's chest tightens inexplicably.

Jon straightens finally, turning so that he can meet her gaze across the bed. "When you said you wanted to be a proper wife."

Her mouth opens, words ready along her tongue, but the look in his eye stops her.

They stay staring at each other across the bed, half-turned with their backs to each other, half-leaning into the other's words.

And then Jon offers a rueful chuckle. "You wanted civility, not affection."

She thinks she means to say something, she must, she surely will but... but the words lay dying in her throat. She swallows them back like turned wine.

"But I'm a bastard," he says, gaze falling to the bed. "And it seems I exceed at neither." A light quirk of his lip, the curl of his fingers in the furs, fist white-knuckled and stiff.

Her gaze stays rooted to that fist, chest rising slowly and steadily. Her throat is dry, her tongue heavy. She does not meet his eyes.

"I apologize, my lady," he says now, turning from her fully, back a curved line, like a scream.

Or a howl.

Sansa blinks back the imagine, eyes stinging uncontrollably. She shifts over the bed toward him, hand outreaching. "Jon - "

"We should get some rest." He goes to put out the bedside candle, dousing their room in darkness.

Sansa can still follow his outline in the dark, still make out his form in shadow. She has grown used to the shape of him, the weight of him. She has learned to find him in the absence of light.

"Jon, please, I – "

"It's okay, Sansa," he says lowly, already turning under the covers, gaze fixing to the canopy of the bed. "Duty can take a night's respite."

Sansa curls her lip back in a trembling grimace, hand bunching in the furs, that sting at her eyes a sudden, wet sheen. She blinks back the tears in the cover of darkness, grabbing for her ends of the furs. She shuffles into her side of the bed, curling on her side, watching him.

He takes a breath in, heaves it back out.

Sansa curls her fist beneath her chin, huddled in the furs. "I don't think you exceed at neither," she says softly, watching him in the night.

He makes no move to turn to her, but she can see his eyes searching the dark – skyward, unfixed.

She almost reaches for him.

But instead, her hand stays bunched in the furs beneath her chin until sleep takes her, Jon's outline painted in shadow against the backs of her lids.

* * *

Jon wakes groggily to a noise at his ear, the film of night still dowsing him, sleep still fogging his mind. He blinks in the darkness, a grumble lighting in his chest. He's laying on his back, a warmth at his side, a steady rocking. Another sound at his ear – low and breathy.

Jon stills.

He blinks again, quickly, a hand rubbing at his eyes, straining to see through the shadows as he turns his gaze to Sansa beside him, half-draped over him. She's on her stomach, one of her legs thrown over his, fist bunched in the sheets at her cheek, her warm center pressing into his thigh and she's – she's –

Jon's throat goes dry.

Sansa rocks into him in her sleep, slow and even, rubbing herself against his thigh. Even through his breeches and her rucked up shift, he can feel the throbbing heat of her, her cunt damp against him. Another sigh leaves her, and Jon's gaze snaps up to her face, watching her lashes flutter in her sleep, her mouth pursing tight. He takes a moment, blinking wildly at her, jarred by the sight of her. And then he shifts just slightly beneath her, pressing his thigh more firmly against her.

The soft moan that leaves her has the blood rushing to his cock instantly. His mouth drops open as he watches her. Another rock of her hips against him, a keening sound in the back of her throat, and Jon's breath comes quicker, his thigh pushing against her cunt on each intoxicating grind.

He can feel his growing hardness pressing into the thigh she has between his legs and he shifts slightly on his side to better fit into her rocking. His eyes never leave the enthralling expression on her face, watching the scrunch of her brows, the purse of her lips, the pale column of her throat flexing as she strains in her sleep, drawing closer to him, back arching as she grinds against him, and she's wet, Jon finds, so unbelievably wet, and his mouth goes slack, his breath hitching, a maddening haze overtaking him, and he grabs at her thigh before he can stop himself, fingers inching up past her bunched shift, fixing to her hip. His fingers dig into her flesh, dragging her into him, grinding her against the hard muscle of his thigh, eyes fixed to the look of rapture on her sleep-touched features. His hand reaches further, encouraged by her breathy moans, grabbing at her ass and dragging her harshly against him, pressing his cock into her hip as his thigh wedges further between her legs, pressed up against her slick cunt, that sodden, intoxicating heat of her, grinding her against him, and the chest-rattling groan rakes from him before he manages to bite it back.

Sansa stills.

Jon's breath stalls in his throat and he stills as well, blinking deliriously at her in the dark, hard and aching at her hip, fingers digging into her flesh.

Her lashes flutter, her fist uncurling in the sheet beneath her, eyes lifting in a sleepy daze to catch brilliantly along his. Her breathing is short and shallow, her body stretched taut, a line of precarious rigidity. She blinks at him, her eyes focusing in the dark.

Jon barely breathes. They lay staring at each other, chests heaving, legs entangled. He watches the light of recognition in her eyes, even amongst the shadows, the flicker of a tremble at her lips, her tight swallow as she fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

And just when he's about to release her, to draw back, to turn from her in heated shame and attempt to will his straining erection down, curled as far away from her on the bed as he can be – he catches the tentative shift of her thigh against him.

Her mouth parts, her breath hitching, and he doesn't dare move. She's still staring at him when she shifts again, this time just as hesitant, but it's a shallow rock of her hips rather than the simple press of her thigh.

Jon sucks a breath between his teeth, fingers tightening over her hip.

She seems to catch the reaction, because then she's biting her lip, brows drawn down in concentration, eyes never leaving his when she rolls her hips very purposely, very surely against his thigh now, a thready moan building in her throat.

Jon's control snaps. He grips at her thigh, pulling it from between his legs, ignoring her delicate whimper at the loss and shifting her so that her leg is swung over his hip instead, angling them so he's on his side fully, pressed into her, his other thigh braced at her center now. She sighs at the return of the pressure, an instinctual roll of her hips meeting him when he presses more forcefully into her. Her eyes go hooded, fixing to his mouth, the hand that was bunched in the sheets reaching tentatively toward his hip, anchoring there to steady herself against his thrusts. Even in the dark, he thinks he can see the pinks of her cheeks at the motion, at the steady rock of their hips, her cunt rubbing incessantly at his thigh through their clothes, and the thought has him impossibly harder, groaning in the space between their panting mouths.

"That's it," he tells her, voice gravelly from sleep and desire, hand guiding her hip against him. Watching her chase her pleasure like this, her cunt soaking him through his breeches, her chest heaving, her lip swollen and plump beneath her teeth, eyes hooded and fixed to his – it has him near on delirious. "That's it, Sansa, just like that," he grinds out.

She moans so prettily at his guidance that the sound staggers the breath in his chest. He ruts into her mindlessly, watching her face screw tight. His hand leaves her hip and fumbles for her shift, tugging the sleeveless thing past her shoulder, almost baring a breast entirely when he stops his frantic tugging, glancing back up at her, eyes boring into hers. She nods fervently, never stopping her grind against his thigh or her enticing mewls. Jon doesn't wait for a second confirmation, yanking the material down, breath catching when a perfect, pale breast spills out, nipple a dusky pink and pebbled to hardness. He cups her eagerly, groaning at the responding sigh that leaves her. He palms at her breast as she rubs herself more fiercely at his thigh, her hand curling tight at his hip.

Jon licks his lips, hungry, aching for a taste of her, growling impatiently as he dips his head down and takes her nipple between his lips, lapping at her, sucking eagerly. Sansa cries out, arching into him, panting above him.

"Fuck," he groans into her skin, teeth catching at her nipple, relishing the tremble that racks through her. His hand returns to her ass, hauling her against him, rutting shamelessly against her still-clothed cunt like a green boy. Jon imagines the slick heat of her, that tight cunt sheathed around his cock, so absolutely drenched for him, as he fucks her senseless, burying himself deep inside her again and again. He clamps down on her nipple, tongue swirling over the pebbled flesh, moaning with her in his mouth, sucking her harder.

"Jon," she gasps sharply, and the sound of his name in her breathless voice has him quaking, so painfully hard against her, wedging his thigh up, grinding her against the lean muscle of his leg, mouth releasing her breast on a needy growl.

"Come on, Sansa, just like that," he grunts. "Harder. Yes – fuck, just like that." His teeth catch at her collar bone, his tongue lashing at her sweat-slicked skin. "I want to feel that hot, wet cunt rutting against me. Want to hear you moan with me between your legs."

And she does moan – loudly – at his urging, grinding wantonly against him now, nails digging into his hip. Her eyes screw shut and Jon pulls back just enough to watch her, just enough to catch the disarming scrunch of her features as she chases her high, whining low in the back of her throat, pressed nearly flush up against him. "I want to see you cum for me, Sansa," he groans out, gaze fixed to her, breathless, and she cries out sharply, shuddering against him, wet and throbbing at his thigh, fingers like talons at his hip, face screwed tight, and it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen, the pleasure crashing through her. He's spilling instantly, vision going white, grunting into her shoulder as his hips jerk painfully, the force of the hardest orgasm he's ever had washing through him in waves and waves and waves.

It seems an age before he's able to regain his breathing, his thoughts.

"I've got you," he mutters, voice coarse, rocking into her languidly, steadily, drawing her close. Her hand edges up from his hip, gripping at his tunic, an anchor. She's trembling, her chest heaving, her mouth at his ear. "I've got you," he says again, swallowing thickly, ignoring the sticky mess his seed has made in his breeches, against her shift.

Like a fucking green boy.

Jon sighs, biting back a curse.

(Too far gone to ever turn back now.)

Sansa's fist doesn't unfurl from his chest until sleep well and truly claims her.

"I've got you," he breathes into her hair, ragged – taken by the sight of her.

Taken – wholly and recklessly.

"I've got you."

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Chap 17

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/61783012 Taglist: @bluesimani TAGLIST OPEN

Ok, so here’s the next chap!! And if your wondering.....ya, the new revision of the mermaid au is paused....again. Ya....I dont think I’ll ever get that done. Lol. hope you guys werent TOO excited bout it. But anyways. Here’s the next chap! Feat Bustier bein a stupid bitch!!!!

“Ya, Als is apparently seeing if Clark would mentor me. I...I dont know. It just...seems too good to be true? I guess. Clark is an awesome reporter. But I doubt he’d want to mentor me when I graduate,” Lana said with a shrug as they ate lunch. Bee frowned as she squeezed her friend’s hand.

“Don’t say that Lana,” Mari said and her friends nodded agreement. “Have hope! It sounds like a lot of people think you’re doing great in your journalism classes, so I bet you’ll get that mentorship.”

“Ya! Don’t let that doubt control you. You just gotta have hope and wait. You’ll only know for certain when it’s your final year,” Xan said giving her a small smile from his spot between the Lila’s. Mari reached across the table, which was a feat in itself from how big the table was, and squeezed Lana’s hand. Tho she didn’t last long before pulling back since that position wasn’t the most comfortable to be in. Adrien nodded his agreement to both of what they said.

“Can I ask you a question about GU?” Chloe asked as she leaned against Adrien. Lana gave a soft him as she nodded.

“Sure. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” she replied honestly.

“You’ll be lots of help. Our boyfriend Jon wants to be a reporter like his parents. He knows how the program is in Metropolis but, I was wondering, could you tell us about GU’s journalism program? He wants to stay with his dad and friends here,” Chloe asked and Lana gave a small smile as she nodded.

As Lana talked, Mari sent a wary glance when she saw Bustier making her way over to them with Sabrina, Kim, and Max trying to get her to stop. Her glance turned into a glare, that had her hesitating but Bustier continued forward. The rest of the class was behind her looking wary.

“Marinette! Why don’t you introduce us to your friends?” Bustier asked with a sweet but demanding smile. Lana tensed a bit as she looked at the group.

“I already said no. Leave,” Mari said with a glare but Bustier didn’t care and moved to stand next to Lana.

“Hello, I’m Ms. Bustier, Marinette’s teacher. I couldn’t help but overhear, you’re in the journalism track here? Could you tell us about the programs?” she asked and Lana swallowed the lump in her throat. She started shaking her head as she squeezed Bee’s hand.

“She doesn’t want to,” Bee said softly, a hint of anger tainting her voice. She wasn’t about to let some woman tell her friend what to do.

“What’s the big deal? She should be more than willing to talk about her school!” Bustier said, slapping at Kim and Ivan’s hands as they tried to steer her away. Lana’s lips parted a bit as shallow breaths left her. She dropped Bee’s hand and wrapped her arms around herself, hunching in.

Seeing that, everyone at the table moved to glare at the teacher. All the work they’ve done to help Lana get past Steve’s abuse is being undone. Mari pushed out of her share and slammed a hand on the table. Whatever little conversations remained stopped as everyone turned to watch the foreigners.

“What about the word ‘no’ do you not get!? I have said no, Lana has said no! No means no! So leave her alone!” Mari yelled into Bustier’s face, the woman looked outraged as she then grabbed Mari’s wrist.

“That is no way to speak to me, young lady! I understand the word no perfectly fine. It is Lana that doesn’t know it seems. Nor you. She hasn’t said anything yet,” Bustier said pulling her back toward the group of shocked teens.

“I do, it’s you that doesn’t!” Mari yelled pulling her arm back. By then, a few college students got up to do something when a loud bang resounded. Lana was standing, her chair knocked backward behind her. Her hands were gripping her arms painfully, her fingers dug in, the tips of her fingers were white from the pressure. She was shaking a bit as she looked up at the teacher.

“Just leave me alone!” she shouted before booking it out of the cafeteria. Tears rimmed her eyes as Steve’s harsh words rang throu her head. Bee and L glared before grabbing their things and Lana’s and hurrying after her, knowing Xander and the others would deal with Bustier. Xander stalked toward the teacher, a deadly glare in his eyes pointed at Bustier.

“What is wrong with you!? Are you so fucking blind that you couldn’t see how badly she wanted you to leave her alone!?” Xan yelled angrily at his ex-teachers face. “I don’t know where it got into your head that you can ignore someone’s response but you can’t! Mari has told you no! You could see Lana shaking her head not wanting to do this, but you didn’t care! I hope you get fired for being a terrible teacher!” he shouted, poking her shoulder harshly as he yelled, actually forcing her back as she stumbled. He then picked up his bag and ran after the three.

By then a couple of college students went over to them and glared at the teacher. The two knew Lana from class and didn’t like seeing her being disrespected by a foreigner. Mari’s classmates were near the door already, having moved their as the confrontation happened, already wanting to be back at the hotel. “I think you should leave now,” the taller of the two said and Bustier harrumphed before spinning on the heel of her shoe and leaving. They all watched Bustier storm from the cafeteria with Mari’s classmates following. Mari and her friends followed behind since they did need to go back to the hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just! Oooh!” Mari grunted out as she fell into the chair next to Tim’s desk after dropping the papers she held.

“She really did that?” Tim asked and Mari nodded as she crossed her arms. “Man, I can’t believe she did that. Do you want me to start a case against her for the French Board of Education?” She groaned in response as she nodded.

“Yes, please.”

“Ok, I’ll start that up. How about you head home. I’m sure Alfred would be more than willing to bake with you,” Tim said and Mari smiled softly as she squeezed Tim’s hand and rushed out of his office and to the elevator. She was bouncing in the elevator, causing some of the occupants to chuckle. As soon as they reached the lobby, she was out of the elevator and out the swirling door in seconds. Adrien laughed from his spot next to the front desk lady at watching her book it.

That’s how Damian and the others found her hours later when they got home. Mari bustling about the kitchen making cheesecake and macaroons while Alfred started prepping dinner. “Everything ok, Mari?” Damian asked and Mari sighed. Dick already knew from Xan calling Alya and Alya telling him.

“Not really. Bustier was......a jerk when we visited GU. She uh....she got Lana to panic and rush from the cafeteria crying. Xan yelled her off before rushing after Lana. I haven’t heard anything since,” Mari explained with a sigh while Jason grumbled under his breath at hearing that.

“How did she even get her license?” Jason asked angrily and Mari shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

“Don’t worry, Alya got a message saying that Lana’s doing better,” Dick said and Mari sighed, relaxing slightly.

“What got to her exactly?” Mari asked softly and Dick scowled.

“The part of Bustier ignoring her wishes. Reminded her of, you know who,” Dick replied which had everyone scowling.

“Ah yes, that fucker,” Mari said causing everyone to look at her shocked. “What? Am I wrong?” she asked and they shook their heads.

“How about we invite them to dinner tonight? Make their days a bit better,” Dick offered, and that had Mari smiling.

“Way ahead of you, Master Dick. Ms. Lana and Alya along with Masters Xavier and Xander have been contacted,” Alfred said and Dick blushed at the look Alfred gave him.

“Wha-! I just meant Lana, Alya, and Xan!” Dick said hastily, especially at Alfred’s look.

���Of course, Master Dick. But Ms. Alya and Master Xavier already had something planned but were willing to change their plans if they could come together,” Alfred explained.

“What can’t handle both of them at the same time?” Jason said teasingly with a smirk as Dick scowled at him.

“Excited to see Lana now that she knows it was you who got her that necklace?” Dick countered, smirking at seeing the blush dusting Jason’s cheek.

“Fuck off,” Jason said walking out of the kitchen up to his room to change. Mari giggled at the exchange with a small smile.

“Well, all that’s left is the cheesecake, but that has to cool and set. So I should get back to the hotel and change,” she said looking down at her flour-covered clothes.

“I’ll take you back to your hotel,” Damian said and Mari beamed at him while Dick and Tim sent him looks. “Tt. You two should prepare yourselves for this dinner. Especially make sure there isn’t anything out to out us. Lana doesn’t know about our nightly activities. Xan knows about mine but no one else,” Damian warned and the two went to work to make sure nothing was out to expose them before they were ready.

While they were busy, Damian sent a smirk over to Mari as they walked to the garage. Mari giggled softly as she slipped thru the open car door that Damian held. After she got in, he closed the door and walked around the black car to the driver’s side and got in himself. The ride back to the hotel was a quiet affair and was quick. Mari was quick to clean up and change into a fresh dress and leggings, hopping on one foot as she tied her combat boots and heading to the door while Lila laughed from her seat on the bed.

“Mari, take a moment, you’re going to hurt yourself in your rush to get back to your boyfriend,” Lila said between laughs, laughs that grew with a teasing smirk at seeing Mari’s blush decorate her skin.

“H-he’s not my boyfriend!” Mari protested and Lila hummed.

“Sure. But you want him to,” she countered and Mari pouted as she nodded, her heart fluttering at the thought of it being real.

“Maybe,” Mari mumbled before looking at the time and yelping. She finished tying her shoes and rushed from the room. “Gotta go bye!” Lila could only shake her head and laugh as she watched Mari book it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

A frown decorated Xavier’s lips as he leaned against the wall in Alya’s bedroom. Alya was leaning into a mirror as she put in new earrings and put on lipstick. They could hear Xan in the other room moving around. Alya had taken a break from talking so that she didn’t miss putting her earring in. she looked over at him thru the mirror. “I get it, I do. He’s hurting, he officially broke up with Babs. But....why is he pulling away from us? I was there for him every time when they broke up before! Why does he feel the need now?” Alya asked turning around to look at Xavier, her eyes tearing up at the thought that she couldn’t help Dick this time.

“Hey now, don’t you go thinking that. Dick just broke up with her. Perhaps he needs some alone time. I’m sure he’ll talk to us when he’s ready. I mean, their butler invited us to dinner. That has to mean he’s willing to talk to us,” Xavier said rubbing his hands along Alya’s upper arms. She nodded slowly in understanding, knowing he was right.

“Yes, you’re right. I know you’re right. He just needs time,” she mumbled with a sigh.

“And you’re right to worry. This hasn’t happened before for you, it’s understandable,” Xavier replied and Alya gave him a small smile as they left her room.

“Come on, we gotta pick Lana up,” she said and the two nodded. Xavier slipped into the passenger seat next to Alya while Xan went into the backseat. When they reached the apartment complex that let students from GU dorm there, Lana was in the lobby already, her leg bouncing. “Hey.”

“Hey, Als, Xan, Xavier,” Lana greeted and Xavier gave her a smile while Xan greeted her with a hug.

“Ready to see everyone?” Alya asked and Lana nodded.

“Ya, I’m glad to finally tell Jason thanks for giving me the necklace all that time ago,” she said, fiddling with said necklace.

“Good,” Alya replied, sending Lana a smile thru the review mirror.

Alster @Bi_Arrow

Change of plans! Heading out to eat dinner with Dick and his family with Lana, Xan, and Xavier! #thiswillbefun #dinnertime #hangout #changeofplans 

Ok, So here’s the next chap!! The dinner will be in the next chap. I hope you guys enjoyed this new chap!!! Ms. Bustier is finally seeing the consequences of how she teaches! Anyways, until next chap!! -Love Willa<3<3<3

[laboratorioautoral]

Lol i got hit me with your best shot stuck in my head now, so how about a chance meeting at a club with it playing? Preferably with missing each other and not instantly realizing who they are dancing with?

I guess I got a bit too excited about this plot and things got…Hotter than I expected. So…This is M rated for security reasons. Not sure if that’s what you wanted, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonny.

Itwas claustrophobic inside the club, but she wasn’t going home thatnight without being completely wasted. Arya grabbed a shot of tequilabefore she could try to reach the stage and listen to whatever bandwas playing.

Ithad been Myrcella’s idea and it was surely a bad one. Cella’sbreaking up with Trystan wasn’t even something unusual, but she haddecided she would have a girls’ night and picked the lamest club intown.

Thesongs were old rock’n roll. Something nostalgic and loud, all aboutrebellious youth and booze. It reminded Arya of one of those musicalsSansa was so fond of. Rock of Ages or something…Well, at least TomCruise was worthy of her time and patience, and the music was dope,but Arya honestly wished Cella had a better sense of fun than a GunsN’ Roses cover, or something just as bad.

Tequilawould have to help Arya to get through the night. Maybe she couldfind a cute boy and have some fun. Preferably forget what Robb hadtold her earlier that day. This is not the time nor the place foryou to think about him! Her mindscreamed over the noise in the room.

Jonwas back in town. That was no big deal. He was just a guy. One ofRobb’s mates and surely not better than Theon…Just another guy,except that he wasn’t. Not for her.

Somecrushes are embarrassing, but that in particular should have turnedto smoke a long time ago. It was ok for them to be friends. When Jonleft town Arya was probably too young for him to think about her asanything but Robb’s little sister. She was probably in the friendzone – if such a thing existed – or maybe in an even morefrustrating position. Arya was probably placed in an altar among anydeities he might worship. Some genderless being.

Thatwas probably why they kept talking along the years. It was harmlessand Jon missed home. They had always been close and they talked abouteverything, until they didn’t talk anymore. Since he found anotherto date. A real woman for sure and a red head to make it worst. Thatwas too much for Arya to bare and she had been the one avoidingcommunication for most of the time.

Ithad been a good decision and she was fine with it. She even datedsome guys along those years. IfJon appeared right in front of her, Arya wouldn’t even recognizehim at that point. She was incollege now and she was way more confident than she had been in thepast. Nothing could possibly make her lose her cool, or so shethought until that morning when Robb told her that Jon was in townand had asked about her.

Shewas a mess ever since and at least Cella, the loud music and thebooze would keep her away from doing something stupid…As long asher cellphone was out of herreach.

Afterthe second shot Arya decided that she would need more than alcohol tokeep her entertained. She need a guy. Someone to flirt with and havesome kisses. Casual sex was also a possibility but she doubted thatshe would be in the mood since the only thing inside her head inbright neon lights was Jon’s name.

Aryalooked around and tried to find someone worthy of a second glance.Like a she-wolf sniffing the air looking for a prey, Arya tried todistinguish between the shadowy figures all around. A dark and smokyroom surely didn’t make it easy and the alcohol seemed to improveeveryone’s looks around her.

HitMe With Your Best Shot wasplaying and at least that song spoke to her soul in a very particularway. Arya couldn’t help moving her hips a bit as she walked aroundthe club and leaving Myrcella behind. It was a discreet attempt atdancing, but she wouldn’t give away her talents so easily andcertainly not in that place full of guys dressed in black leather.

“Hey!”Someone shouted behind her, trying to call her attention, but Aryacouldn’t hear until the guy touched her shoulder. “Hey, you!”

Aryaturned to face whoever it was. Maybe something had fallen from herpockets and the guy was trying to return it to her.

Ohmy gods! It was the only thingher brain managed to process about the stranger standing in front ofher. Dark curly long hair,a full and well cut beard,lithe and elegant even all wrapped up inside black jeans and leatherjacket. Oh baby…You had to be exactly my type, hadn’tyou? I think we could be friends tonight.Her mind at this point was roaming among all of her wildestfantasies.

“Hi!”Arya answered simply. “Can I help you?”

“Maybeyou can.” He said before flashing a sly smile at her. One of thosemeant to start that game she liked so much. Small talk, sensuousmoves, slow hands and clothes falling all around if she was luckyenough. The guy offered her his hand. “Will you dance with me,Miss?”

“Idon’t dance!” Arya shouted so he could hear her over the loudmusic.

“Ithink you do!” He replied insistently. “C’mon! Just a dance.”

Wellyou’re a real tough cookie with a long historyOfbreaking little hearts like the one in meThat’sokay, let’s see how you do itPutup you dukes, let’s get down to it

It was just a dance. It couldn’thurt and he was handsome like the devil. She had a thing for a shortaffairs with tall dark strangers and that guy was surely her type oftrouble.

Arya accepted his hand and theystarted to dance in the middle of the club. Nothing too complicated,only some random moves dictated by the alcohol and the lust. He was aterrible dancer, but she could overlook that as long as he made it upfor her with a mind blowing kiss.

Hitme with your best shotWhydon’t you hit me with your best shotHitme with your best shotFireaway

Aryaspin around and turn her back at him. That certainly felt like aninvitation for him to come and chase her and at least the guy got thehint. His arm held her by the waist and pulled her body closer tohis. Arya swayed her hips in the rhythm of the music, just to teasehim a bit.

Heburied his nose in the curve of her neck. His beard tickling hersensitive skin and making her shiver in anticipation for a kiss thatdidn’t come for a while. His hips tried to follow hers and hesmelled of cigarettes, bear and post shave cologne. Something in thatsmell was inviting and familiar, but Arya couldn’t tell why.

Youcome on with it, come onYou don’t fight fairThat’s okay,see if I careKnock me down, it’s all in vainI get rightback on my feet again

Thatguy was a gentleman through and through. He teased, he provoked, butnever once tried to cross a few lines, like kissing her neck orsliding his hand under her pants. He was waiting for her to make upher mind and go down that road with him. She had the wheel, she wasin control and the gods knew she loved it.

Aryaturned around again and looked directly at him. His hand restedagainst the small of her back and pulled her closer once more. Theyforeheads touching and their breath entwined as they flirted with thepossibility of making of that dance a one night stand.

FuckJon! I already have company tonight!Her mind finally decided and Arya threw her arms around his neck andkissed him hard. That guy wasn’t much of a dancer, but with a kisslike that she couldn’t care less.

Hishands got bold and grabbed her ass covered by her tight jeans. Thatwas a kiss you only get to experience once in a life time, when youeither think you are gonna die or when you are so high that the worldaround you might be ending.

“Wannago somewhere quiet?” He asked in a low voice close to her ear.

“Can’tgo for long. My friend is waiting for me to take her home.” Aryaanswered lazily. Why did she agree to give Cella a ride?!

“Wecan be quick.” He replied sensuously. “Or she can take an Ubberback home.”

“I’ma good friend, ya know?” Arya grinned at him. “You’ll have togive me one good reason to leave Cella behind.” The guy smiled ather as if he was the catthat just ate the fucking canary.

“Iwant to suck you until your toes curl.” Oh gosh! If that wasn’t areason good enough for her to tell Cella to find another ride backhome, than Arya had no idea of what it was.

“FuckCella! You lead the way.” Arya answered.

Theywalked out of the club and got inside an old black Camaro that wasparked outside. He pressed her back against the car and Arya closedher eyes to receive another kiss. His hand unzipped her jeans andslid under her pants to rub her clit.

Hewas good. He was verygood.

Herbreath became labored as his fingers played with her body. He kissedher neck as Arya got half way to paradise. If that was just theforeplay, she could barely wait for the real deal. It was only fairthat she would repay his gesture and to feel him hard, thick and hotin her hands made her feel the most powerful creature on earth. For amoment his fingers stopped as he gasped for air.

Heheld her wrist after a few strokes, making her stop completely.

“I’mnot doing this in a parking lot.” He said with difficulty. “I’mstaying at a hotel a couple of blocks from here. Not fancy, but ithas a nice bed.”

“Ifwe are doing it tonight, you should at least tell me your name,stranger.” Arya grinned at him.

“Ladiesfirst.” He insisted before getting his hand out of her jeans andtry to recompose himself.

“It’sArya.” She said lazily.

Fora second there was utter silence between them as they stood in a darkparking lot. Arya sensed a change in the air. Something between shockand panic.

“AryaStark?” He asked breathlessly.

Hitme with your best shotWhy don’t you hit me with your bestshotHit me with your best shotFire away

Thatwasn’t what she had expected to hear. Yes, there was somethingfamiliar about him, but Arya was pretty sure she had never seen thatguy before. Long hair, full beard, leather jacket…He looked likemost of the guys inside the club, exceptfor the white wolf emblem on his chest.

“Jon?”Her eyes were suddenly wide open and she thank the gods for thatfucking parking lot being too dark for him to see her bright redface.

“I…Ican’t believe it.” Jon was clearly in panic at that point. “How…?You are a kid! How did you get inside this place?!”

OHGREAT! After getting his hand under her panties now he wanted to giveher drive license a look! Arya was pretty sure that some deity up inthe sky was having a great laugh at her expenses.

“I’m21.” She said as a matter of fact and pretty annoyed by his suddendistress. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman.”

“No!You are Arya!” He insisted in the middle of his panic attack. Thatcouldn’t get any worst, could it? “You are Robb’s little sisterand I should…I should probably take you back home before eitherRobb or Ned come for my head.”

“Gosh!I forgot how dramatic you can be at times!” She rolled her eyes asshe tried to straighten her shirt and fix her hair. “It has beenwhat? Seven years? I wouldn’t stay frozen in time waiting for youtocome back and mess up with my hair.”

“Arya…Idon’t…I don’t know what to say!” Jon answered exasperated.“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Well,guess what?” Arya looked directly at him and this time the tequilaand the sheer need for him took the best of her. Sometimes all thatyou need is five seconds of insane courage. “I’m not and I’mstill waiting for you to suck me until we both forget our names andI’ll not pretend that I haven’t dreamed of this for most of myteens so…You either get your shit together so we can continue withwhat promises to be a hell of a ride, or you go joying the church andembrace celibate, but if you turn your back on me you’ll have tolive with your conscience and all the “what ifs” inside your headforever.”

“Whatthe fuck, Arya?” He looked at her scandalized for a second.

“Youwere with your hand inside my jeans to not say something moreintimate, so…We are going to hell anyway.” Arya said as a matterof fact. “It’s up to you to decided if you are going to enjoy theride or not. Robb doesn’t have to know what we do in dark parkinglots.”

“Fuckit!” Jon growled and Arya prepared her spirit to turn around andpretend that night never happened. She just wanted the ground to openand swallowed her whole so she wouldn’t have to look at his faceever again. “Get inside the car.” Jon commanded angrily andkissed her one more time before the night got wild.

[its-glum-and-dumb]

Screw it I’m doing them all

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

I don’t know. I’m not exactly the touchy person. It was probably my friend.

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

Shy. Definitely shy. I mean, there’s certain people I’m outgoing around but I’m mostly shy.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

My friend Jonathan when I’m home for Thanksgiving :D

4. Are you easy to get along with?

I like to think I am.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

Considering I don’t like anyone, I’m gonna say no 

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

People that make me happy. If they can make me smile, laugh, or I just really like talking or being around them, that usually makes me develop feelings for them.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

Probably not. I don’t do relationships haha 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

My friend Jon because he was just in an answer haha 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

Not usually. But my friend and I roleplay and I’m only just starting to not skip over the sex stuff 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My friend Sheri 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“Call me when you get a chance. I have a couple questions about your tv” 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

It’s All Coming Back to Me Now –Glee Version (I’m in love with Lea Michele’s voice)

Shiksa Goddess –The Last Five Years

King of New York –Newsies

Don’t Rain On My Parade –Glee (Again- Lea Michele’s voice is magic-)

I Won’t Say I’m In Love –Susan Egan 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

Not really no 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

nope 15. What good thing happened this summer?

I got back in contact with an old friend and I started a job I actually liked 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Never kissed anyone so I’m gonna say no 17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

I mean, there’s always that chance 18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

Nope! Couldn’t even tell you who it was but I don’t talk to anyone from that time. 19. Do you like bubble baths?

I guess? 20. Do you like your neighbors?

I mean, they’re okay. We don’t really talk anymore 21. What are you bad habits?

Nail biting, apologizing too much, complaining 22. Where would you like to travel?

Pretty much all over Europe, starting with Paris 23. Do you have trust issues?

You bet. 24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Sleeping counts right? 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

I have to pick one part? 26. What do you do when you wake up?

Grab my phone lol 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

DARKER. I’M A FREAKING GHOST 28. Who are you most comfortable around?

Definitely my friend Jon 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

I don’t really talk to any of them anymore but a small part of me regrets breaking up with my ex girlfriend because I really did care about her 30. Do you ever want to get married?

Maybe if I meet the right person but I don’t see that happening like ever 31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

It was, but since I chopped it off, nope. 32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

Ben Cook for sure and uhhhh. Dove Cameron. :D 33. Spell your name with your chin.

Czgndefined. Dear god. That was an epic fail. It’s Catherine guys 34. Do you play sports? What sports?

HA. HA HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. 35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV. Definitely TV 36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

All the time 37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Nothing. I just rock back and forth on my heels haha 38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

Funny, goofy but knows when to be serious, genuinely cares about me and makes sure I know it, good sense of humor, understands my sense of humor, is able to calm  me down when I get panicky, and yeah. Just stuff like that 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

Hot Topic, Claire’s (for the paris stuff), Box Lunch, and Walmart lol 40. What do you want to do after high school?

Um, I’ve already graduated so I guess just continue in college? 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

I think everyone deserves a second chance but after that, if they make the same mistake, they’re done 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

I’m usually overthinking something or just really sad 43. Do you smile at strangers?

I try to smile at people and compliment at least one person every day bc you never know what people are going through 44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Space. Most fish freak me out. 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

The fact that I’m paying hundreds of dollars for the classes and literally can’t afford to miss them? 46. What are you paranoid about?

Where to begin? 47. Have you ever been high?

nope 48. Have you ever been drunk?

nope 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

Not that I can think of off the top of my head? 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Black? 51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Every day. That’s why I put my name as Catherine 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

Does everything count? No? Um. Probably my brain. 53. Favourite makeup brand?

Depends. For lipstick I like Loreal and Revlon and for everything else, I like Maybelline 54. Favourite store?

Probably Hot Topic 55. Favourite blog?

@almostoyster 56. Favourite colour?

Blue or red 57. Favourite food? 

Pasta <3 58. Last thing you ate?

A cupcake 59. First thing you ate this morning?

Chimichangas at noon haha 60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Nope! 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

Nope! 62. Been arrested? For what?

Nope! 63. Ever been in love? 

Once. Never again 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

Can’t do that 65. Are you hungry right now?

I’m always hungry 66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

I consider my tumblr friends to be my real friends, thank you very much 67. Facebook or Twitter?

Facebook, but then again, I don’t have Ben Cook or AKB on facebook so… 68. Twitter or Tumblr?

TUMBLR 69. Are you watching tv right now?

nope 70. Names of your bestfriends? 

Sheri, Ali, Jon, Hannah, Alyssa, and Marissa 71. Craving something? What?

candy 72. What colour are your towels?

Yellow and gray 72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

2 as pillows and 1 as a cuddle buddy 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

I have so many (koala, dog, eeyore, toothless, 2 pillow pets, and several bears) but I don’t actually sleep with them 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

See the previous answer 75. Favourite animal?

Kitties :D 76. What colour is your underwear?

purple 77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Depends on what I’m eating 78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

COOKIE DOUGH 79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

gray 80. What colour pants?

Blue 81. Favourite tv show?

Can’t pick, I have too many 82. Favourite movie?

Probably Newsies at the moment 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Mean Girls. It’s a classic! 84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Mean girls, hands down. 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

Janis 86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

The one that’s obsessed with bubbles 87. First person you talked to today?

Hannah <3 88. Last person you talked to today?

Hannah lol 89. Name a person you hate?

homophobes 90. Name a person you love?

My friends 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

probably 92. In a fight with someone?

Not that I can think of 93. How many sweatpants do you have?

Four? 94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

seven 95. Last movie you watched?

The Last Five Years 96. Favourite actress?

Dove Cameron 97. Favourite actor?

Jeremy Jordan 98. Do you tan a lot?

Nope. Whenever I try, I burn 99. Have any pets?

nope 100. How are you feeling?

Okay I guess 101. Do you type fast?

yep 102. Do you regret anything from your past?

Quite a lot actually 103. Can you spell well?

I got third place in a spelling bee. You tell me. 104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

definitely 105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yep! 106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

I hate thinking of this but probably 107. Have you ever been on a horse?

I love horseback riding 108. What should you be doing?

A powerpoint for class 109. Is something irritating you right now?

The fact that I can’t get myself motivated 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

definitely 111. Do you have trust issues?

absolutely 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

I don’t remember because I try to not do it 113. What was your childhood nickname?

AlyCat 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

On vacation, yeah 115. Do you play the Wii?

Yep! We had to throw it away because it stopped working but we might get a new one 116. Are you listening to music right now?

Of course! 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Yep! I usually only eat it when I’m sick though 118. Do you like Chinese food?

Yep! 119. Favourite book?

Hm. Either Beyond the Garden Arbor by Cynthia Jean Mueller, The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, The Breakable Vow by Kathryn Anne Clarke, or Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt 120. Are you afraid of the dark?

sometimes 121. Are you mean?

I try not to be 122. Is cheating ever okay?

no 123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

I’ve honestly stopped trying 124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

nope 125. Do you believe in true love?

I believe that some people happen to find it, but I don’t believe that I will 126. Are you currently bored?

always 127. What makes you happy?

Newsies, my friends, music, and reading 128. Would you change your name?

I’m actually thinking about legally changing it, yeah 129. What your zodiac sign?

Scorpio 130. Do you like subway?

Yep but Jersey Mike’s is the best sub place 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Panic and probably push myself away from him. I’m not going down that road again 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

My sister 133. Favourite lyrics right now?

134. Can you count to one million?

Probably but who’s got that kinda time? 135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

Man, I don’t know 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Closed bc they close automatically. They’re heavy doors so they don’t stay open unless you use a doorstopper 137. How tall are you?

5’0. I’m a shorty 138. Curly or Straight hair?

Um. Pixie cut? But it’s naturally straight 139. Brunette or Blonde?

blonde 140. Summer or Winter?

Summer. I hate the cold 141. Night or Day?

day 142. Favourite month?

I don’t know man 143. Are you a vegetarian?

HA. HAHA. As if. 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

milk 145. Tea or Coffee?

Pop 146. Was today a good day?

So far, I guess 147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers 148. What’s your favourite quote?

“Fake friends are no different than shadows. They stick around during your brightest moments, but disappear during your darkest hours.” 149. Do you believe in ghosts?

nope 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

Flexibility refers to the achievable range of motion at a joint or group of joints without causing injury.

[disasterdessi]

1-104 please

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? Hi babe 💕2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed?We are in a relationship3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care?Depends what drugs, I'm okay with them smoking weed but that's pretty much it4. Is your last name longer than six letters?No its 6 letters5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober?Sober6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up?Yeah it sucked7. What does your last received text say?"Noooo" from my boyfriend 8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?I can't count9. Where was your last kiss at?Boyfriends car 10. When is the last time you saw your sister?Don't have one11. What do you drink in the morning?Coffee12. Where did you sleep last night?My bed13. Do you think relationships are hard?Yes but they are worth it if it's the right person14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you?Probably break up with my ex sooner than dragging it out as long as I did15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems?None except maybe claustrophobic for both of us16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?Rainy17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?A lot it's common18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants?Pajamas19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now?Hopefully 💕💙💚20. Does anyone like you?Not to sound conceited but a lot of guys have told me they like me recently, but I really only care about my boyfriend and I sure hope he likes me21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S?Nope, well actually maybe? My childhood friend Steven and I might have kissed one time but the memory is foggy and it was innocent if anything 22. Is the last person you kissed gay?I fucking hope not, he's my boyfriend23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand?Yes! Ugh24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?Yes a lot of them25. In the past week have you cried?Yeah26. What breed was the last dog you saw? Abbie my dog is a golden retriever mix27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower?Both?28. Have you ever kissed a football player?Yes, 2 of my exs played football29. Do you think you’re old?Ehhhh30. Do you like text messaging?Yes but I like phone calls more31. What type of day are you having?An okay one I guess32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?I have my nose pierced on both sides XD33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather?Medium34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you?Yes my boyfriend and my best buddy's mikey and peachy35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling?Relationship 💯36. Are you a simple or complicated person?Complicated af37. What song are you listening to?Here to mars-coheed and cambria 38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it?Yes always do39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you?There are 3 and they are some really close friends 40. What made you start liking the person you like now?Well I was always really attracted to him, but I love his personality and the fact that he gives me a lot of attention and wants to make me happy41. When did you last receive a text message?Ummm maybe 10 min ago42. What is wrong with you right now?Oh there's a list......but it's personal, I view a lot of things wrong with me43. How well do you know the last female you texted?Really fucking well, she's my ride or die bitch44. Does anyone disgust you?Jon45. Would you date someone right now if they asked?Only my boyfriend 💙💚46. Are you in a good mood right now?Yes 💙47. Who was the last person you talked to in person?Lisa my roommate 48. What color shirt are you wearing?Orange?49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?Yeah I mean but that happens a lot50. Anyone you’re giving up on?Yeah , my ex, gave up a bit ago51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for?Hmmm no I love him?52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t?Yeah until I finally had enough of emotional abuse53. Do you like rain?Yes I love it and I love being kissed in the rain at Disneyland 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?Not really? I just will watch him more next time55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?Yeah56. Do you like to cuddle?I LOVE to cuddle I demand cuddles57. Are you shy?Depends58. Do you get along with girls?Sometimes59. Have you dated the person you texted last?I am dating him60. What do you carry with you at all times?Deodorant, keys, wallet, phone, phone charger 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you?No fucking way62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months?I've only ever been in relationships that lasted longer than that so I would be fine63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship?Yeah64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute?I love them and yes so cute65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week?Tons of cute things66. How old are the last three people you kissed?Eddie, I believe was 22? Austin,23. And cody is 20.67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself? I can do them myself but I like being pampered so pay lol68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print? ZEBRA !!!69. Do you have any stickers on your car? A couple and I hate them, they are from my mom70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne? Ummmm neither71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone? I've had all, I like my iPhone72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut? A couple months ago73. Do you like diet soda? Ehhhhh74. What color are the walls in your room? White but lots of posters75. Are you 16 or older? I am 22!!!76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars? Yes love that show secretly77. Do you have a job? Yes I'm a barista78. What are your initials? DKK79. Did you ever have braces? Yes80. Are you from the south? South cali lol81. What does your last status on facebook say? It's about new year and sappy bullshit lol I'm sappy82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed? No actually, I don't, sadly we lost touch. It's whatever tho.83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad? Dad I would say, tho he's not biological84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics? I tried to be a cheerleader once , not my thing85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters? Rogue one!!!86. Do you smoke? Used to, don't anymore87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? Heels!!!!88. Is your phone touch screen? Yes89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly? Straight 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house? Nope91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool? Pool92. Have you ever made out in a car? I've fucked in a car quite a bit now lol 😘😜👌93. …Had sex in a car? See above lol94. Are you single or in a relationship? In a happy relationship 95. What were you doing last night at midnight? Ummm cuddling cody96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks? I don't remember97. Do you like the camera on your phone? Yeah I guess98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits? Yeah, didn't last long99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? I think so100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate? Yes, I keep tabs on people.101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? Yeah but not now thanks to IUD102. Name your favorite Kesha song: Ummmm I like a lot of her songs actually103. Do you have any tan lines right now? Nope I'm pale af104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? I have before

[trying-out-stuff]

CUTENESS OVERLOAD AHHHHH

super babies on patrol (at the dog park)