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fierypen37 · 6 years ago

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The Oasis: Chapter 13

Another chapter up!

There was nothing like hot sausage pizza with plenty of garlic sauce and dragon peppers at four in the morning. The cheap soda was good too. Beer would have been better, but there was no way in hell he’d risk running the gauntlet while anything less than fighting-sharp. The meal was even better with a half-naked Daenerys Targaryen sitting cross-legged in bed. Pure decadence.

He watched in awe as Dany ate the peppers by the handful. The woman had a stronger stomach than Tormund. Jon leaned back against the headboard, replete. Wiping sauce from his face with a napkin, he admired her in greedy, glancing looks. Falling asleep in her arms after making love felt so . . . right. ‘Making love,’ the phrase seemed trite, but there was no other word for it. Kinky power games swept to wayside in a tide of yearning. That last mutual climax felt like his soul was pouring from his body. Cartoon hearts, starlight, and fireworks, all those clichés were true.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, combing her hair behind her ear. Mm, that sexy hint of hoarseness in her voice from moaning in pleasure. The blanket draped on her shoulders slipped, giving Jon a tantalizing glimpse of her breast. Jon was lost for a moment admiring the grace knit into her bones as she took a sip from her drink. Every movement smooth and measured, like a dancer.

I am well and truly fucked. It would only get worse. The lake house north was private, cozy. Romantic. Gods. Next, he’d be feeding her chocolate covered strawberries or offering his services as a love slave forever. A thousand rationalizations told him why it wouldn’t, couldn’t work between them. But there it was all the same, so real it hurt. Jon coughed, realizing he’d spaced out staring at her.

“Uh, our train will take us north . . . to the Cailin Canal. From there, we board another train to Torrhen’s Square. Silver Lake is about a 30-minute drive from there.” A frown line appeared between her brows.

“And why not Winterfell? Isn’t that where you grew up?” Jon raked his fingers through his hair.

“Aye, but the goal is to find a place that the bastards wouldn’t expect. If they find out it’s me helping you, Winterfell will be the first place they look. Not to mention my brothers and sister are there.” Daenerys gave a solemn nod.

“Of course. I would never risk endangering your family,” she said. Her fingers picked restlessly at the hem of the blanket.

“I’d love to meet them, once all this is over,” she said, not meeting his eye.

Jon lost himself in imagining it. Robb and Margaery would insist on hosting them for dinner. Barbeque and beer. Sansa—if she was home from uni—would be a gracious hostess. Arya would pepper her with insightful (and probably embarrassing and invasive) questions, Bran would ogle her and dazzle her with his encyclopedic knowledge of Targaryens, Rickon would be too shy to do more than peek at her from Mrs. Stark’s leg. The image of them eating and laughing on the patio under a big northern sky was so tangible, he could almost taste it. Jon swallowed hard.

“I’d like that too.” The silence that followed was a pleasant one, broken by Daenerys’ jaw-cracking yawn.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Jon suggested.

The food dealt with, there was a degree of shyness as Daenerys curled up, the blankets folded back in invitation. Jon pressed a glancing kiss on her forehead and tucked in behind her. One arm around her, snug and possessive. A statement. Daenerys settled into his embrace with a soft sound. So sweet and trusting. Jon flicked off the lamp. Sleep hung leaden on him, but he spent some time listening to her breathe. He turned the precious gift over in his mind, puzzling at it, admiring it. Three days, maybe four in her presence and voila, here he was, in love. And it scared him shitless.

Jon was in a strange mood. Quieter. But not the broody, seething energy of the night before. She’d grown used to the tenor of his silences, but this one she couldn’t put her finger on. He was already up when she woke, dressed and gathering what little they had. Breakfast was cold pizza, and they donned the same filthy clothes—washed as best as cold water and cheap bar soap could manage. Daenerys puzzled as she stuffed her hair under the ball cap. Maybe talking to his family had spooked him? Making plans, setting up a future . . . that should be off-limits.

Despite her girlish crush (and it was a crush, she insisted fiercely), there was no guarantee of tomorrow with them. After all she’d put him through, maybe he was trying to gently disengage. That was it. The sex got too intense. The whole godsdamned situation was too intense. Boundaries were good. The smart thing. The mature thing. Daenerys choked down the knot in her throat. Why did that thought make her so miserable?

The PA announced the departure of their train promptly at six a.m. Jon’s hand was warm against the small of her back.

“Ready?” he asked, his first words beyond ‘good morning.’ Daenerys nodded, slipping into the narrow cabin. Her stomach churned, a nervous acid roil. She chose a pair of seats midway back in the car. There were few other commuters. An older couple sipping tea, a square-jawed business type staring into his computer screen, a middle-aged woman reading a book. No goons, or potential goons, that she could see. Daenerys exhaled a breath as she sat. The Harpies weren’t all powerful. They could get away safe. The press of Jon’s gaze drew her from her thoughts. Gods, even this garish lighting and little sleep didn’t diminish how gorgeous he was. Jet black curls yanked back into submission, his dark eyes magnified by the lenses of his glasses. Daenerys managed a wan smile.

“We can relax, Dany. We bought our tickets with cash, we switched routes and drivers several times.”

Daenerys nodded.

“The farther we get from King’s Landing, the better I’ll feel,” she said. Jon took her hand and Daenerys was so grateful for the contact, she nearly melted.

“Me too. I think you’ll like the cabin. The lake is beautiful. No internet though, or fancy tea.” Daenerys snorted at his half-hearted attempt at teasing.

“I think I can rough it for a while. I’m sure we’ll find something to occupy our time,” she said, lightly stroking the inner curve of his thumb with her own. Jon gulped visibly. Whatever his silence had been about, it relaxed as the train lurched from the station. Talk flowed easily as the tangle of low concrete buildings and narrow streets abruptly gave way to rolling fields and thick forest.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been north. The last time was Bran’s nameday three months ago. I bought him some climbing gear.”

“Climbing? Like rock climbing?” Jon’s smile was quick.

“Aye. Bran’s been climbing since he could walk. A lot of magazines wrote articles on him; he was the youngest one to climb the Wall. He had an accident some years back. One of his anchors broke, he fell some one hundred feet before the harness caught him.” Dany tightened her hand around his.

“Gods! Was he hurt?” Jon gave a grim nod.

“Broke his pelvis, three ribs and a hairline fracture of his spine. If he’d fallen even a foot farther, the doc said he could have been paralyzed.” Daenerys squeezed his hand.

“How old was he?”

“Ten.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jon raked his hand through his hair, tearing out the tie. His wild hair fell around his face.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, off-hand: “That’s why I learned massage. He had terrible muscle spasms in his legs and back during rehab.” In the words, she heard a wealth of love and care. Daenerys swallowed the lump in her throat. A contemplative moment passed in comfortable silence.

“I found out I liked it. It’s soothing, not really like work. Except with you.” A hot flash arched through her at the words. She couldn’t bite back a startled smile.

“With me?” A hint of color crept up Jon’s neck. He glanced out the window at the blur of sun-dappled greenery flying by.

“I told you that,” he said, shoulders hunched.

“Told me what?” Daenerys stifled a giggle. She felt giddy, intensely female. Teasing him was such fun! Jon gave her a sharp look, and noticed the humor dancing in her expression. He relaxed. The curve of his lips hinted at all manner of depravity.

“During our session at The Oasis, just the feel of your hair and the way you smelled made me hard,” he whispered, his thumb tracing distracting circles on the tender skin of her wrist.

“I felt like such an ass, perving on an innocent client.”

“I wanted you too,” Daenerys whispered. Despite the armrest between them, Jon loomed close, his breath a phantom caress on her cheek. Just barely she could smell him, musky and male. She chewed on her lower lip. The look in his eyes made a shiver race through her.

“You did?”

“I was so embarrassed. You just rubbing my shoulders made me so . . .”

“What?” Jon pressed. His expression was intent, dark eyes alight with hunger. Daenerys licked her lips.

“So . . . aroused,” she said. Jon’s eyebrow arched.

“‘Aroused?’ So clinical. Tell me how you felt.”

Daenerys cast a nervous glance around. The near-deserted car was quiet, save for the hum of the train itself. The rows around them were empty. Her heart thudded. Something as mundane as a commute was fun and sexy with Jon. The first air-soft kiss behind her ear made her shudder. Jon nuzzled her hair with his nose.

“It’s ok, baby,” he purred in her ear, “No one can hear. Just me. You know how I love it when you say those filthy words.” His hand crept beneath the shirt draped over her lap. Daenerys bit back a whimper as he petted the inner seam of her jeans. A kiss, a few sexy words, and here she was, panting and yearning for whatever he wanted.

“Do you want to stop?” Jon said, his eyes searching her face. In answer, she kissed him. Soft, lingering. When she pulled back, Jon looked a little dazed.

“It was the first time. When—when you rubbed my back, I . . . gods, it felt so good. I was wet. Aching.” Gods, that look. Avid, lips parted. And his eyes, that fierce glow.

“The first time?” His fingers plucked at the button of her jeans, worming beneath her panties. Daenerys bit her lip to stifle a whimper, arching her hips to give him better access.

“Yes. Oh yes. It was even w—worse the second time. Pure erotic torture. I thought I was going crazy.” Jon’s fingers parted her folds, finding her hot and slick. He cursed softly under his breath. Daenerys measured her breathing, fingers white-knuckled on the armrests. The first soft touch on her clit worsened the hot ache.

“Is this what you wanted? You wanted me here?” a gentle, circling rhythm. Slick and secret. Gods, yes that gentle circling. Both soothing the ache and making it worse. Letting the pleasure build and burn. Good. So fucking good. Daenerys squirmed in her seat.

“Jon, faster. Please.” His ragged breathing was warm in her ear, his fingers driving her towards sweet relief. Daenerys clenched her thighs around his hand, tense around that delicious rising tide of pleasure.

“Tell me, baby.” His accent was thick, his voice rough.

“Gods, yes. I wanted you. If you’d asked, I would have let you.” Daenerys clenched her hand over his as the pleasure burst behind her eyes. A hot, delicious wave drowning her. When the roar in her ears receded, she was slouched in her chair. Jon’s fingers lazily stroked, setting off sweet, shivery echoes.

“Fuck, Dany. That was beautiful,” Jon said, kissing her neck. Daenerys hummed.

“What about you?” she asked, glancing down. His erection strained against his jeans. Jon shrugged.

“No help for it right now. No biggie. Can I keep my hand here? I love touching you like this.” Daenerys blushed, embarrassed by how wet she was. At this rate, she’d soak through her underwear. Worth it, though.

“It feels wonderful. Gentle, though. I’m a bit sensitive.” Jon grinned, leaning against her shoulder.

“Of course. I can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”

The feel of her hot and slick around his fingers kept him perpetually hard for the next two hours. And probably would until the end of time. Jon didn’t particularly care. Seeing her squirm and whimper under his touch was potently erotic. In between easy conversation and working on a crossword, Jon made her come. Watching her unravel was pure bliss, even more so when she tried so hard to keep it together.

The best part was when the snack cart rolled by, and Jon feigned sleep against her shoulder. He listened as she calmly ordered with two of his fingers deep inside her. Sexy as hell. If the bored attendant looked closer, she would have noticed the sheen of sweat on her face.

Jon sadly pulled back before their food arrived. The rich smell of her wafted from his fingers. He checked the impulse to lick them clean. He tucked into his turkey sub and chips with relish. Through lunch he imagined licking her into a frenzy while she was in a board meeting or something. Yeah. He liked the fantasy. He’d take care of her. Make her dinner. Fetch her dry cleaning. Make her come. Trot after her like a loyal hound, panting and wagging. Forever. Gods, he was fucked.

The train to Cailin Canal flew by. With a certain smug male satisfaction, he noticed Daenerys’ slightly wobbly gait as they disembarked. Jon dragged in a breath of fresh air through his nose. Hundreds of years ago, the Neck had all been swampland. If he remembered right, it was another Daenerys who had ordered to bridge the Neck to connect the Sunset and Narrow Seas. The locks had been widened and modernized since.

“I’ve never been this far north,” Daenerys said, casually tucking her hand into his. Jon managed to knock his big idiotic grin down a few notches.

“We have about half an hour until our next train. Let’s go see the locks,” Jon said.

The air was rich with the smell of water and fried food. Crowds were thin on a weekday, mostly confined to a few couples and the occasional tourist. Jon led Dany to the railing along the lock, peering down to the waterway below. Layers of green slime coated the metal walls, and in the grey-blue water below they passed the time pointing out seals and turtles and the occasional duck. Dany towed him by their entwined hands to the educational plaques, her face alight with curiosity.

“How does it work? I see the doors, but I wonder how many ships can go through at a time? The Sunset Sea is several degrees warmer than the Narrow Sea. Does that effect the wildlife?” Daenerys asked. Jon checked the impulse to drag her close for a kiss. Smiling in the sunshine, all worry or stress hundreds of miles away, she was the most radiant thing he’d ever seen. It took a minute to restart his short-circuiting brain.

“I—I’m not sure. They have guided tours, but not on weekdays,” Jon said. He glanced at the clock.

“Damn, we have to rush if we want to make our train!”

Jon would have happily resumed the sexy teasing on the next leg of their journey, but the train leaving Cailin Canal for Torrhen Square was packed. Commuters and families alike. He and Daenerys wedged their way into a middle and aisle seat two rows from the head in the back of the car. Despite that, soon after the train lurched from the station, Daenerys nestled against his shoulder.

“Is this ok? I need to shut my eyes for a minute,” she asked, those limpid violet eyes trained on him.

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable,” Jon said, wadding the spare shirt as a makeshift pillow. Even awkwardly draped across the armrest, she was soon fast asleep. Jon’s heart thudded in his chest. Jon breathed in the smell of cheap soap in her hair along with her own underlying sweetness. Restless fingers toyed with flyaway strands of her hair. He loved having her close.

One of the attendants flicked the aisle TV on. The channels flicked by, an informercial, a vacation channel detailing the wonders of the Summer Isles, an old rugby match, the news . . . Jon’s ears perked up at the mention of Daenerys’ name. Even this far north, the main news stream came in from the capital.

“Government officials and local law enforcement are searching for suspects in the shootout on Loom Street late yesterday evening. This attack is thought to be linked to an attempt on the life of King’s Landing CEO Daenerys Targaryen. The motives are yet unclear, and Miss Targaryen hasn’t been seen since the attack. If you have any information on possible suspects, call the number on your screen.” Jon squeezed her closer, as if to shield her. So strange to hear some of the worst moments of her life pared down to bloodless facts.

The report droned on. Barry and Rakharo were still in intensive care. Daenerys’ brother Viserys appeared on screen. They were similar in coloring and build, but there was a hawkishness in the nose and narrow violet eyes that Jon distrusted.

“Turn the game back on!” a couple passengers grumbled. The attendant obliged before Jon could hear Viserys’ statement.

Jon leaned his head back on the headrest and sank into a thin doze. No matter how tired he was, he could never really fall asleep while traveling . . . He and Dany were walking on the beach hand in hand. Jon closed his eyes and listened to the crash of the surf and let the warm sunshine sink into his bones. Then her hand was gone. He opened his eyes and she was gone, the beach was gone, the sun was black and lifeless. Gone, gone, gone. He ran, shouting her name. They had her. They had her and he didn’t know where . . .

“Jon? Jon, can you hear me?” Dany’s voice woke him. Jon swallowed hard, blinking back to reality. The train had stopped, and passengers were shuffling about, gathering luggage, swilling the last of their drinks.

“Yeah, yeah. Just dozed off. Let’s go.” Jon shook off the dregs of the dream and grabbed her hand.

The clock in the terminal read six o’ clock. It took some time to wade through the crowd of commuters to the car rental desk. Thanks to Robb, there was a small SUV ready for them. Dinner was a brief detour at a greasy spoon diner. Torrhen Square was a lakeside town, full of kitschy shops, hostels, fishing stores. It took maybe ten minutes to wend their way to the edge of town.

“If you need to make a call, best do it now. There’s no much reception out at the cabin,” Jon said when they pulled over to fill up on gas. Daenerys gave him a tired smile and dug for the burner phone.

“Good idea. I should call Vis. I’m glad Barry and Rakharo are ok, but it would be nice to know if they’d heard from Missy or Shae.”

Jon nodded, stifling a yawn as he attached the gas hose. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Almost there. They could finally get some decent rest at the cabin. The pump ticker clicked rhythmically. Through the cracked window, he could hear the soft music of Daenerys’ voice. A cold breeze ruffled his hair. Beyond the sharp smell of petrol, he could smell the lake. Open water and plant life. With it came a flood of childhood memories. All of them piling into a van, snacking and joking as they drove.

“What?” It was the sharpness in her voice that drew Jon from his wool-gathering. Jon peered through the window. Her face was pale, stricken. Jon’s belly clenched. What now?

“What is it?” he hissed. Daenerys waved him off, clinging to the phone with a claw-like hand. Jon bit back a rush of irritation. Don’t mind me, I’m just following you around, sheltering you, falling ass over head in love with you--

“And Rakharo, did he--?” Jon cursed under his breath. Whatever his problems, at the end of the day, the harpies were trying their level best to rape and murder her. Besides that, the body count was rising, for which she blamed herself. He had little room to complain after all that.

Jon finished with the gas and slid into the cab. Tense, he jerked the car in gear and focused on speed and negotiating turns as he listened to half of a very heated conversation. Not with the brother. The detective guy then. The fuckers had made another move.

Daenerys hung up. Silence was as thin and sharp as a blade of glass. Her tears shone in the eerie glow of the dashboard.

“Dany?” Jon said, trying to keep his voice even and calm.

“Barry’s dead. They tried to repair the damage, but he died on the table.”

#jonerys #fanfic #fp37fic #the Oasis #Massuer!Jon #CEO!Dany #a little smut

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