Jon Snow (he would always consider himself Jon Snow, regardless of the name he was given at birth, just as he would always consider himself the son of Ned Stark even if it turned out he had no Stark blood whatsoever) wasn't sure what to do with himself that night. Jon should join the celebration along with the rest of the survivors from Winterfell. They had managed to survive the Long Night, and the King of the Night and his army had been killed. The living had fought against the dead, and the living had prevailed. Jon wanted to celebrate being alive. He wanted to share joy and feel the satisfaction of knowing that this was what he had worked for; that literally he had died at the hands of his own sworn brothers from the Night's Watch. However, although he could hear the joy, laughter, jokes, and drinking taking place in the Great Hall where most of the survivors had gathered, Jon remained alone in the Lord's Chambers. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Ghost was with him, curled up on his bed in front of him as Jon absent-mindedly stroked his white fur. He was the most faithful companion Jon could ask for. —There are worse ways to spend the night —murmured Jon to himself, thinking about Edd, who had died today, and Pyp, Grenn, and all the other brothers he had lost on the way, whether in the army of the dead, at the Free Folk when Mance led them or at Ramsay Bolton's fight to reclaim Winterfell. Then he thought about his other brothers, the brothers he had had before taking his vows. He thought about Robb, betrayed by his own men, and Rickon, who had died in his arms after Ramsay shot him. He even thought about Bran, who could still be alive but didn't seem to truly live . Even if they had never been his brothers after all, he still thought of them as such. How was it possible that Jon was the only one of them who had managed to get out With life and almost whole? Someone knocked on his door and Jon lifted his gaze, surprised. He didn't expect anyone from the Free Folk to be looking for him; with how drunk they seemed when he saw them before, he couldn't see how they could put one foot in front of the other. He knew who wasn't there, even though he wished she was looking at him like she used to. He got rid of that thought, not wanting to sink further into his own thoughts. —Come in—he shouted. He didn't know who would be visiting, but whoever it was, he appreciated the distraction from his own thoughts. The door creaked open slowly and Sansa appeared, the girl who had spent her whole life thinking she was his half-sister. She had always kept her distance from him, at least when she was old enough to understand the difference between bastards and legitimate children, but that distinction had faded quickly after she came to him after escaping Ramsay. After that, they had been much closer. She had become one of the people he trusted most, and he liked to think it was the same for her. It turned out they weren't half-siblings, as Bran had told him. He wasn't Ned Stark's son; he was Rhaegar Targaryen's son, born of one of Lyanna Stark's ladies-in-waiting when she proved infertile. He was still trying to accept the idea that there was no familial connection between him and the woman standing in front of him, but he knew she would always be a very important person to him, regardless of whether they shared blood or not. —Tormund told me I'd find you here—Sansa said, smiling at him as she accepted his invitation and entered his chambers—. Well, at least he tried to tell me. It wasn't easy to understand, between her drunkenness and how distracted she got when Brienne walked by halfway there and started mumbling about having sex with her. But I understood anyway. Jon smiled. “I'm impressed,” he said. —I could have” account for that with considerable ease, he said. What's hardest for me to understand is why you're locked up here when you should be celebrating with the rest of us. You have just as much right to participate as anyone else. More, actually. You did more to defeat the King in the Night than anyone. —That's not true, he said, shaking his head in disdain—In reality, I did very little in the end. It was Arya who killed the King in the Night, and it was Bran's plan that allowed it to happen, and Theon's sacrifices and others gave him enough time for it to really work. And none of this could have happened without Daenerys and her two dragons. Although she tried to fight against it, she couldn't help but furrow her brow when she thought of her beautiful dragon queen. She was still his queen and always would be, but she was no longer his and he doubted she would ever be again. Sansa's smile dipped slightly. —Whatever Arya, Bran, Theon, or anyone else may have done, none of us would be here without the Night's Watch, led by you. Maybe you didn't deliver the final blow, but you're the reason we all knew there was a fight to be had before it was too late to do anything about it. —He shook his head—But I think now I understand why you're here. It's about Queen Daenerys. He looked at her fixedly, expecting a response, but didn't phrase it as a question. Jon didn't have the energy to try to deny it. Is my despair so obvious? he asked. —I'd say the way you furrow your brow and turn away every time our paths cross is the most obvious sign, Sansa said. She paused, as if trying to decide what to say next—I suppose you're still not softened up with me. —Not at all, Jon said, sighing—I made it clear I have no interest in her throne, but that doesn't seem to matter much to her. She's been cold towards me since she ' told about his true origin. He had hoped that surviving the Long Night could change things, but his walls had remained standing. —And that's why you stayed here instead of celebrating our victory —said Sansa—. Instead of sharing our joy and celebrating that you're alive, you, the King in the North, have hidden in your room rather than facing the fact that your old lover ignores you. It hurt a bit to hear Sansa refer to Daenerys as her ex-lover, although he couldn't deny it seemed accurate. Certainly he couldn't deny she was right about why he was up there instead of down there. It's not that I'm not happy or that I don't want to celebrate, he said. But I know what would happen the moment I entered that hallway and saw her sitting there, ignoring my existence altogether. Being near her takes away all my joy. And at least I have Ghost as company. As he said that, Ghost got up, jumped off the bed, and left the room, although not before sniffing Sansa's fingers, accepting her head pat, and licking her hand. —Don't worry, Jon —said Sansa, laughing at his furrowed brow when Ghost was gone—. You still have me to keep you company. “You can probably find better company to spend your time with,” said Jon. “Someone who's more eager to feel joy in this moment.” Sansa's smile widened. —Oh, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather celebrate our victory with than you, Jon —said she. She walked slowly towards the bed where he was still sleeping, not bothering to close the door behind her—. Someone has to make sure our hero doesn't spend all night thinking about something. If your dragon queen isn't willing to celebrate with you, I'll be more than happy to take her place. There was something in the way Sansa said it, as well as the expression on her face while doing so, that caught Jon's attention. It reminded him a bit of how Ygritte used to behave When he tried to get her to climb onto his skin with her. But surely I was mistaken. There was no way for Sansa to think of Jon in that way. Anyone who was or wasn't related by blood, they had been raised as brothers, at least like half-brothers.
-- Occupy your place? -- repeated Jon slowly, trying to connect his words, tone and facial expression in a way that made sense to him.
-- Yes, Jon -- said Sansa, nodding her head --. You're not the only one who needs to celebrate being alive. I do too.
She brought her hands to the black dress.
We did it, Jon. We won. Let's celebrate being alive... together.
Sansa's hands slid down the dress over his shoulders and pushed it all the way down his body before Jon's brain could even process what was happening. Not many high-born ladies would take off their dresses so easily, so Jon could see. But that wasn't the clearest sign that Sansa had come into her room with a plan. What made it really obvious that this wasn't an impulsive decision by Sansa was that she wasn't wearing anything under the dress; not even underwear. Jon doubted many girls, even in the South, would dress like that, but here in the North it was too cold to walk around like that. There was no way Sansa could normally go without normal underwear. That she was doing it now, here, in her room, was all Jon needed to see to know she had come specifically for this.
-- Sansa -- growled --. Please put your dress back on.
He tried to look away from his naked body, but discovered he didn't have the willpower to look away or close his eyes. She was tall, pale and absolutely beautiful standing there in her room like that, bringing thoughts to his head about her he had never expected to have.
-- Why? -- she asked --. Don't you find me... Attractive? Her surprised eyes parted from her joyful breasts and fixed on him at the absurdity of that question, but she saw he was smiling with scorn. She was just playing with him. She saw how he reacted to her body. She knew what was going through his head. She knew it and liked it. —Not that— said with a rough voice anyway—. You are absolutely beautiful, Sansa, but you... us... —I hope you're not about to insist we're family— said Sansa calmly—. Now we know it's not like that. Arya felt disappointed to discover she wasn't even our half-brother. But I was happy. That meant I didn't have to feel so guilty for feeling attracted to you. —Do I feel attracted to you?— said Jon, dazed. It seemed pretty obvious; why would she be standing naked in his room if not? But his head was still reeling from the shock of Sansa making such a bold proposal. —How could it not be?— asked her, smiling and seeming perfectly comfortable standing there naked in front of him—. You're my hero, Jon. You're everyone's hero now, but first you were mine. I restrained myself first because I thought you were my half-brother, and then because Daenerys was on the way. —She smiled and shook her head—. But none of those things are a problem now, right? You're Rhaegar Targaryen's son, not Eddard Stark's. And because of that, and what it could mean for his claim, Daenerys no longer wants you. But I want you, Jon. She bit her lower lip for a moment, and there was so much hunger, such longing in her face that Jon really gasped. Ygritte had been very direct about telling him what she wanted, and Daenerys was a passionate woman. But no woman had looked at Jon with such desperation; such need. Thanks to her beautiful naked body in front of him, his cock had already started to come alive in the comfortable pants he'd put on after returning to his room. But now it began to throb positively. I could feel the reasons why I could argue against this disappearing into nothing as quickly as the King of Night had once Arya's dagger was stuck in him. —We live, Jon—said Sansa, her voice loaded with emotion and hunger—. We survived. The living fought against the dead, and we are still alive. So let us live. Let us celebrate being alive together. At least for this night. Jon's blood was pounding and his penis seemed to be screaming to be freed. She was right. There was no real reason why they shouldn't do this. They weren't really relatives, regardless of what they had been told during most of their lives, and Daenerys had made it clear she had no interest in talking to him, let alone celebrating with him. And Jon wanted to celebrate, don't lie. He wanted to remind himself that the Long Night was over and the dead had been defeated once and for all; he wanted to live, and there was no better way to celebrate being alive than sharing his bed with a beautiful woman. It just so happened that he had a naked and willing woman in his room; an absolutely beautiful woman, besides. Ygritte possessed a wild and rough beauty, and he would never forget the astonishment he felt the first time they had sex. As for Daenerys, he had been completely convinced she was the most beautiful woman in the world the first time he saw her naked. Now he wasn't so sure. Sansa presented a tough competition. More importantly, she was here and wanted him. What would tomorrow bring to them and all of Westeros? Jon had no idea. Between Daenerys and the still imminent threat of Cersei, the future remained difficult to predict. But Jon knew that he and Sansa were alive, there, that night. For now, that was all he needed to know. Jon began to unbutton his shirt as he got up from the bed, And Sansa hurried to approach him, passing her hands over his bare chest as he took off his shirt. She kissed some of the scars on his body and helped him undo his pants and slide them down his legs. Without knowing what was coming, she had put on underwear underneath but quickly got rid of it too. Sansa gasped when she saw his penis and touched it with her hand as if testing it. Jon suddenly remembered his previous sexual experience, which he knew had been limited to his second husband, fortunately deceased (his first husband, Tyrion, had told him they hadn't consummated their marriage). He thought about that and compared it to his own first sexual experiences with Ygritte, and his heart ached for Sansa. Suddenly, he wondered if he needed to calm down a bit and treat her gently. That went out the window quickly because Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, with force. Her lips pressed against his with more aggression than any woman's had, and not even Ygritte in all her boldness had put her tongue in Jon's mouth as insistently as Sansa did now. Maybe he needed to take the opposite approach. Whether it was because this was the first time he'd done this with someone of his choice, because she was so excited and euphoric about being alive like him, because she'd been repressing her attraction to him for some time and was happy to release it or a combination of everything before, Jon thought Sansa wasn't in the mood for gentle treatment. As appealing as the idea of taking her to bed gently, treating her with the kiss of the lord and then making love slowly, he felt Sansa didn't appreciate that; not tonight at least. Unless he was wrong, Sansa wanted to fuck tonight. Jon hoped she would let him know if he was wrong; since she had initiated everything By her own will, she surely knew that all she had to do was ask for what she wanted. But when he slid his hands over her smooth back, grabbed two firm handfuls of her soft buttocks and lifted her off the floor, she tightened her grip on his neck and kissed him harder and pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth. She felt almost as if she were trying to stuff him down her throat, and that was enough for Jon. He guided his cock to the position at the entrance of her pussy, and when Sansa responded by holding him tighter, he pushed forward and penetrated her. She growled and pulled his hair, but he could tell she wasn't trying to get away from him. Although he didn't think even Ygritte would have been that wild once, he was sure that the normally elegant and proper Sansa was getting exactly what she wanted. That made two, because Jon had never felt such a strong urge to fuck any woman before. Something inside him, some animal instinct, demanded that he fuck the beautiful redhead in his arms as hard as he could, and Jon had no intention of ignoring that impulse. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment or the excitement of being alive, but he had never felt anything so perfect as being inside Sansa's pussy. She felt so wonderfully comfortable around his cock, and that made him want to penetrate her as deep as possible. A part of him felt like they were rushing ahead faster than would be prudent, but wasn't that what this night was about? This night wasn't about caution or preparation; it was about living in the moment. And that's what Jon thought. He took her across the room, holding her by the ass and making her bounce smoothly over his cock as they moved forward. He kept going, taking her to the wall just beside the still-open door. Her back hit the wall without too much softness, but that was only the beginning. immobilized against the wall, she threw her hips back and pushed forward, forcing her cock to enter deeply into her in a great thrust. Then she did it again and again and again. Her thrusts began rapid and deep and only increased from there. Sansa's pussy had felt sweet enough on his cock just with initial penetration, but now that he was really sliding forward and backward inside her, she couldn't get enough. Her body made him wild, wilder than he had ever felt before, and he wouldn't have stopped even if his life depended on it. If Daenerys had heard him fucking Sansa against the wall and had come to investigate, she wouldn't have doubted it. The fire of Drogon or the knives of Alliser, Olly, and the rest of his traitors couldn't have made him stop fucking Sansa. Even if the King of the Night re-materialized in front of him right now, he'd tell the bastard to wait because there were more important things to focus on right now. Was he being too rough hitting her against the wall like that when the bed was just there? Of course. Had it been an imprudence for him to take her just beside the door and not even bother to close it? Without a doubt. But Jon didn't care. Caution was something he didn't have time for tonight; not now, not after surviving the battle with the dead. Sansa's body was hot against him, and her kisses were even hotter. He didn't care that each thrust he gave made his back and buttocks hit the wall behind her, and considering his kisses became more ferocious as brutally as he drove his cock into her, it was obvious she wouldn't do it any other way. Finally, he pulled his lips away from hers so they could both catch their breath, although she didn't make it easy with the firmness of her... That her mouth was joined to his. However, the rhythm of their hips didn't diminish in the slightest, and when Jon pressed his face against her sternum instead of returning to hers with hers, she simply found a different way to express her pleasure that wasn't trying to push her tongue into her throat. —Jon! —she cried out, and didn't stop—. Oh, yes, Jon! Fuck me, Jon, yes! Jon thought he had already been fucking her as hard as it was possible for him, but hearing her moan and beg for more allowed him to move his hips with a speed he didn't know he could achieve and with an energy he shouldn't have possessed yet after the exhaustion of battle. —Jon! —Sansa repeated. It wasn't even the desperate and excited cry of before; it was a cry, a howl. He had never heard a sound like that from any woman, and hearing it come from Sansa and knowing he was the reason pleased Jon more than he could say. He had no doubt they could be heard far beyond their bedroom, and that thought also pleased him. The Jon of just minutes before wouldn't have wanted anyone to hear them having sex, especially not in a castle that housed his (ex) lover Daenerys and her followers. That Jon didn't exist, at least not for the moment. Instead there was a wolf with human skin, a beast that roared while he fucked his companion with all his might. Letting their cries be heard by everyone wasn't a concern; it was an advantage. The beast was proud to let all of Winterfell, all of the North, hear the ecstatic screams of her companion as she claimed her. They were having a great time with all the carefree euphoria of two beings who had survived unimaginable horrors, fought against dangerous enemies and overcome overwhelming obstacles to be here, sharing this moment together. Jon started nibbling on Sansa's pale and delicate neck skin, not hard enough to draw blood but with enough force to make her feel it. sufficient force as if she could feel his teeth against her. Sansa didn't flinch; she ran her nails down his back, scratching his skin and leaving her own mark on him. And throughout all this, the growls, moans, and screams continued, along with the blows to his back and ass against the wall while the King in the North was fucking the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark harder and rougher than any slut in Winter Town or Flea Bottom could have managed. A woman of lower status wouldn't have been able to withstand such a fierce fuck, but Sansa wasn't the girl who had left Winterfell with dreams of tournaments, songs, and handsome knights in her head. While Jon was adapting to life at the Wall, and later beyond it, Sansa had gone through her own trials. The Sansa he knew had been a sweet, innocent, and naive girl. The Sansa pinned against the wall had hardened by the life she'd lived since leaving Winterfell with her father and sister. She had left a pup and returned as a wolf, and the wolf of the North not only endured Jon's aggressive fuck; she accepted it. Although Jon could have easily finished there while fucking her against the wall, he realized his feet were moving towards the bed without conscious thought. They didn't change to a softer rhythm in any way. When they reached the bed, he threw Sansa onto it and she got down on her knees, knowing what he wanted without him having to ask. Or maybe both just wanted the same thing. That seemed plausible, because Sansa let out another bestial howl when Jon pushed his cock back into her again. She continued right where he had left off, thrusting against her pussy with the same force as before, only now she was being fucked from behind instead of against the wall. Her hips slammed against his pale ass with each thrust, and her hands held him by the hips, keeping a secure grip as he took her. It wasn't a romantic position, but nor did it pretend to be one either. Sansa hadn't come here hoping to make love; she'd come because she wanted Jon to fuck her. That's what was happening, harder and better than he'd ever done with anyone before. He never would have expected the sweet Sansa to bring out things in him that wild Ygritte and dragon queen Daenerys hadn't, but there they were, fucking like animals in the lord's chambers. The slapping of her back against the wall was no longer audible; now their bodies were crashing together and the bed was rocking beneath them, valiantly trying to contain their aggression. Jon was absolutely sure that no Lord of Winterfell or King of the North had ever fucked his Queen or Lady with such roughness as he was fucking Sansa. But he was also sure that no queen of the north or lady of Winterfell had ever howled like Sansa did. No matter how hard her hips pounded against his backside, no matter how deep his cock penetrated her beautiful pussy, Sansa kept screaming and moaning. Jon wouldn't have maintained that brutal rhythm if he hadn't been able to tell she was enjoying it, or at least that's what he'd like to believe. But Sansa's cries left no doubt in his mind, nor anyone else within earshot, that she was a woman receiving the best fuck of her life and loving every second of it. She loved it so much that her body trembled and cried out when she came. Jon wasn't always sure if his lovers had orgasmed and when, but he didn't need to ask with Sansa. Her climax was loud, explicit, and intense, resulting in a sticky mess not only on the bed beneath them but even some of it landing on Jon's skin as well. It also pushed Jon further than... any point from which he could recover. He managed a handful of furious thrusts forward and then shot his seed inside Sansa's pussy with a strong groan of his own. Maybe it was because he had been repressed after being cut off and ignored by Daenerys, or the rush to survive the battle for which he had spent years preparing the kingdom. Maybe it was the result of the intensity of the screwing, or simply because it was Sansa whom he had just fucked. Whatever the cause, Jon had never released so much seed as he did now inside Sansa. He just kept coming and when he finally finished, he felt more exhausted than after the end of the battle. Wherever he had gotten the resistance to screw her like that, there was nothing left now. Jon barely had energy to pull his penis out of Sansa and turn over to lie on his back, and she seemed equally exhausted. She collapsed face down and her face hit the pillow, and whether intentionally or not, her arm ended up on her chest. Jon made no attempt to remove it and in fact brought his body closer to hers so he could press against her side. By chance, he saw some of his seed staining the sheets when he looked down, and for a moment that made him think about tomorrow. Would Sansa take moon tea? Would she never share her bed again or should he wait for her to join him in the lord's chambers from now on? And the door, still open wide, brought more thoughts to his mind about how the North, the rest of the kingdom and the remaining Starks would react to what they had no doubt heard that night. He thought especially about how Daenerys might react. Those thoughts were pushed aside with equal speed. Whatever came tomorrow - Arya, the North, Cersei, Daenerys or anything else - would come tomorrow. Tonight, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark had celebrated the end of the Long Night and the freedom of one. war won. Tonight, the wolves of Invernalia howled together.
-- Occupy your place? -- repeated Jon slowly, trying to connect his words, tone and facial expression in a way that made sense to him.
-- Yes, Jon -- said Sansa, nodding her head --. You're not the only one who needs to celebrate being alive. I do too.
She brought her hands to the black dress.
We did it, Jon. We won. Let's celebrate being alive... together.
Sansa's hands slid down the dress over his shoulders and pushed it all the way down his body before Jon's brain could even process what was happening. Not many high-born ladies would take off their dresses so easily, so Jon could see. But that wasn't the clearest sign that Sansa had come into her room with a plan. What made it really obvious that this wasn't an impulsive decision by Sansa was that she wasn't wearing anything under the dress; not even underwear. Jon doubted many girls, even in the South, would dress like that, but here in the North it was too cold to walk around like that. There was no way Sansa could normally go without normal underwear. That she was doing it now, here, in her room, was all Jon needed to see to know she had come specifically for this.
-- Sansa -- growled --. Please put your dress back on.
He tried to look away from his naked body, but discovered he didn't have the willpower to look away or close his eyes. She was tall, pale and absolutely beautiful standing there in her room like that, bringing thoughts to his head about her he had never expected to have.
-- Why? -- she asked --. Don't you find me... Attractive? Her surprised eyes parted from her joyful breasts and fixed on him at the absurdity of that question, but she saw he was smiling with scorn. She was just playing with him. She saw how he reacted to her body. She knew what was going through his head. She knew it and liked it. —Not that— said with a rough voice anyway—. You are absolutely beautiful, Sansa, but you... us... —I hope you're not about to insist we're family— said Sansa calmly—. Now we know it's not like that. Arya felt disappointed to discover she wasn't even our half-brother. But I was happy. That meant I didn't have to feel so guilty for feeling attracted to you. —Do I feel attracted to you?— said Jon, dazed. It seemed pretty obvious; why would she be standing naked in his room if not? But his head was still reeling from the shock of Sansa making such a bold proposal. —How could it not be?— asked her, smiling and seeming perfectly comfortable standing there naked in front of him—. You're my hero, Jon. You're everyone's hero now, but first you were mine. I restrained myself first because I thought you were my half-brother, and then because Daenerys was on the way. —She smiled and shook her head—. But none of those things are a problem now, right? You're Rhaegar Targaryen's son, not Eddard Stark's. And because of that, and what it could mean for his claim, Daenerys no longer wants you. But I want you, Jon. She bit her lower lip for a moment, and there was so much hunger, such longing in her face that Jon really gasped. Ygritte had been very direct about telling him what she wanted, and Daenerys was a passionate woman. But no woman had looked at Jon with such desperation; such need. Thanks to her beautiful naked body in front of him, his cock had already started to come alive in the comfortable pants he'd put on after returning to his room. But now it began to throb positively. I could feel the reasons why I could argue against this disappearing into nothing as quickly as the King of Night had once Arya's dagger was stuck in him. —We live, Jon—said Sansa, her voice loaded with emotion and hunger—. We survived. The living fought against the dead, and we are still alive. So let us live. Let us celebrate being alive together. At least for this night. Jon's blood was pounding and his penis seemed to be screaming to be freed. She was right. There was no real reason why they shouldn't do this. They weren't really relatives, regardless of what they had been told during most of their lives, and Daenerys had made it clear she had no interest in talking to him, let alone celebrating with him. And Jon wanted to celebrate, don't lie. He wanted to remind himself that the Long Night was over and the dead had been defeated once and for all; he wanted to live, and there was no better way to celebrate being alive than sharing his bed with a beautiful woman. It just so happened that he had a naked and willing woman in his room; an absolutely beautiful woman, besides. Ygritte possessed a wild and rough beauty, and he would never forget the astonishment he felt the first time they had sex. As for Daenerys, he had been completely convinced she was the most beautiful woman in the world the first time he saw her naked. Now he wasn't so sure. Sansa presented a tough competition. More importantly, she was here and wanted him. What would tomorrow bring to them and all of Westeros? Jon had no idea. Between Daenerys and the still imminent threat of Cersei, the future remained difficult to predict. But Jon knew that he and Sansa were alive, there, that night. For now, that was all he needed to know. Jon began to unbutton his shirt as he got up from the bed, And Sansa hurried to approach him, passing her hands over his bare chest as he took off his shirt. She kissed some of the scars on his body and helped him undo his pants and slide them down his legs. Without knowing what was coming, she had put on underwear underneath but quickly got rid of it too. Sansa gasped when she saw his penis and touched it with her hand as if testing it. Jon suddenly remembered his previous sexual experience, which he knew had been limited to his second husband, fortunately deceased (his first husband, Tyrion, had told him they hadn't consummated their marriage). He thought about that and compared it to his own first sexual experiences with Ygritte, and his heart ached for Sansa. Suddenly, he wondered if he needed to calm down a bit and treat her gently. That went out the window quickly because Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, with force. Her lips pressed against his with more aggression than any woman's had, and not even Ygritte in all her boldness had put her tongue in Jon's mouth as insistently as Sansa did now. Maybe he needed to take the opposite approach. Whether it was because this was the first time he'd done this with someone of his choice, because she was so excited and euphoric about being alive like him, because she'd been repressing her attraction to him for some time and was happy to release it or a combination of everything before, Jon thought Sansa wasn't in the mood for gentle treatment. As appealing as the idea of taking her to bed gently, treating her with the kiss of the lord and then making love slowly, he felt Sansa didn't appreciate that; not tonight at least. Unless he was wrong, Sansa wanted to fuck tonight. Jon hoped she would let him know if he was wrong; since she had initiated everything By her own will, she surely knew that all she had to do was ask for what she wanted. But when he slid his hands over her smooth back, grabbed two firm handfuls of her soft buttocks and lifted her off the floor, she tightened her grip on his neck and kissed him harder and pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth. She felt almost as if she were trying to stuff him down her throat, and that was enough for Jon. He guided his cock to the position at the entrance of her pussy, and when Sansa responded by holding him tighter, he pushed forward and penetrated her. She growled and pulled his hair, but he could tell she wasn't trying to get away from him. Although he didn't think even Ygritte would have been that wild once, he was sure that the normally elegant and proper Sansa was getting exactly what she wanted. That made two, because Jon had never felt such a strong urge to fuck any woman before. Something inside him, some animal instinct, demanded that he fuck the beautiful redhead in his arms as hard as he could, and Jon had no intention of ignoring that impulse. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment or the excitement of being alive, but he had never felt anything so perfect as being inside Sansa's pussy. She felt so wonderfully comfortable around his cock, and that made him want to penetrate her as deep as possible. A part of him felt like they were rushing ahead faster than would be prudent, but wasn't that what this night was about? This night wasn't about caution or preparation; it was about living in the moment. And that's what Jon thought. He took her across the room, holding her by the ass and making her bounce smoothly over his cock as they moved forward. He kept going, taking her to the wall just beside the still-open door. Her back hit the wall without too much softness, but that was only the beginning. immobilized against the wall, she threw her hips back and pushed forward, forcing her cock to enter deeply into her in a great thrust. Then she did it again and again and again. Her thrusts began rapid and deep and only increased from there. Sansa's pussy had felt sweet enough on his cock just with initial penetration, but now that he was really sliding forward and backward inside her, she couldn't get enough. Her body made him wild, wilder than he had ever felt before, and he wouldn't have stopped even if his life depended on it. If Daenerys had heard him fucking Sansa against the wall and had come to investigate, she wouldn't have doubted it. The fire of Drogon or the knives of Alliser, Olly, and the rest of his traitors couldn't have made him stop fucking Sansa. Even if the King of the Night re-materialized in front of him right now, he'd tell the bastard to wait because there were more important things to focus on right now. Was he being too rough hitting her against the wall like that when the bed was just there? Of course. Had it been an imprudence for him to take her just beside the door and not even bother to close it? Without a doubt. But Jon didn't care. Caution was something he didn't have time for tonight; not now, not after surviving the battle with the dead. Sansa's body was hot against him, and her kisses were even hotter. He didn't care that each thrust he gave made his back and buttocks hit the wall behind her, and considering his kisses became more ferocious as brutally as he drove his cock into her, it was obvious she wouldn't do it any other way. Finally, he pulled his lips away from hers so they could both catch their breath, although she didn't make it easy with the firmness of her... That her mouth was joined to his. However, the rhythm of their hips didn't diminish in the slightest, and when Jon pressed his face against her sternum instead of returning to hers with hers, she simply found a different way to express her pleasure that wasn't trying to push her tongue into her throat. —Jon! —she cried out, and didn't stop—. Oh, yes, Jon! Fuck me, Jon, yes! Jon thought he had already been fucking her as hard as it was possible for him, but hearing her moan and beg for more allowed him to move his hips with a speed he didn't know he could achieve and with an energy he shouldn't have possessed yet after the exhaustion of battle. —Jon! —Sansa repeated. It wasn't even the desperate and excited cry of before; it was a cry, a howl. He had never heard a sound like that from any woman, and hearing it come from Sansa and knowing he was the reason pleased Jon more than he could say. He had no doubt they could be heard far beyond their bedroom, and that thought also pleased him. The Jon of just minutes before wouldn't have wanted anyone to hear them having sex, especially not in a castle that housed his (ex) lover Daenerys and her followers. That Jon didn't exist, at least not for the moment. Instead there was a wolf with human skin, a beast that roared while he fucked his companion with all his might. Letting their cries be heard by everyone wasn't a concern; it was an advantage. The beast was proud to let all of Winterfell, all of the North, hear the ecstatic screams of her companion as she claimed her. They were having a great time with all the carefree euphoria of two beings who had survived unimaginable horrors, fought against dangerous enemies and overcome overwhelming obstacles to be here, sharing this moment together. Jon started nibbling on Sansa's pale and delicate neck skin, not hard enough to draw blood but with enough force to make her feel it. sufficient force as if she could feel his teeth against her. Sansa didn't flinch; she ran her nails down his back, scratching his skin and leaving her own mark on him. And throughout all this, the growls, moans, and screams continued, along with the blows to his back and ass against the wall while the King in the North was fucking the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark harder and rougher than any slut in Winter Town or Flea Bottom could have managed. A woman of lower status wouldn't have been able to withstand such a fierce fuck, but Sansa wasn't the girl who had left Winterfell with dreams of tournaments, songs, and handsome knights in her head. While Jon was adapting to life at the Wall, and later beyond it, Sansa had gone through her own trials. The Sansa he knew had been a sweet, innocent, and naive girl. The Sansa pinned against the wall had hardened by the life she'd lived since leaving Winterfell with her father and sister. She had left a pup and returned as a wolf, and the wolf of the North not only endured Jon's aggressive fuck; she accepted it. Although Jon could have easily finished there while fucking her against the wall, he realized his feet were moving towards the bed without conscious thought. They didn't change to a softer rhythm in any way. When they reached the bed, he threw Sansa onto it and she got down on her knees, knowing what he wanted without him having to ask. Or maybe both just wanted the same thing. That seemed plausible, because Sansa let out another bestial howl when Jon pushed his cock back into her again. She continued right where he had left off, thrusting against her pussy with the same force as before, only now she was being fucked from behind instead of against the wall. Her hips slammed against his pale ass with each thrust, and her hands held him by the hips, keeping a secure grip as he took her. It wasn't a romantic position, but nor did it pretend to be one either. Sansa hadn't come here hoping to make love; she'd come because she wanted Jon to fuck her. That's what was happening, harder and better than he'd ever done with anyone before. He never would have expected the sweet Sansa to bring out things in him that wild Ygritte and dragon queen Daenerys hadn't, but there they were, fucking like animals in the lord's chambers. The slapping of her back against the wall was no longer audible; now their bodies were crashing together and the bed was rocking beneath them, valiantly trying to contain their aggression. Jon was absolutely sure that no Lord of Winterfell or King of the North had ever fucked his Queen or Lady with such roughness as he was fucking Sansa. But he was also sure that no queen of the north or lady of Winterfell had ever howled like Sansa did. No matter how hard her hips pounded against his backside, no matter how deep his cock penetrated her beautiful pussy, Sansa kept screaming and moaning. Jon wouldn't have maintained that brutal rhythm if he hadn't been able to tell she was enjoying it, or at least that's what he'd like to believe. But Sansa's cries left no doubt in his mind, nor anyone else within earshot, that she was a woman receiving the best fuck of her life and loving every second of it. She loved it so much that her body trembled and cried out when she came. Jon wasn't always sure if his lovers had orgasmed and when, but he didn't need to ask with Sansa. Her climax was loud, explicit, and intense, resulting in a sticky mess not only on the bed beneath them but even some of it landing on Jon's skin as well. It also pushed Jon further than... any point from which he could recover. He managed a handful of furious thrusts forward and then shot his seed inside Sansa's pussy with a strong groan of his own. Maybe it was because he had been repressed after being cut off and ignored by Daenerys, or the rush to survive the battle for which he had spent years preparing the kingdom. Maybe it was the result of the intensity of the screwing, or simply because it was Sansa whom he had just fucked. Whatever the cause, Jon had never released so much seed as he did now inside Sansa. He just kept coming and when he finally finished, he felt more exhausted than after the end of the battle. Wherever he had gotten the resistance to screw her like that, there was nothing left now. Jon barely had energy to pull his penis out of Sansa and turn over to lie on his back, and she seemed equally exhausted. She collapsed face down and her face hit the pillow, and whether intentionally or not, her arm ended up on her chest. Jon made no attempt to remove it and in fact brought his body closer to hers so he could press against her side. By chance, he saw some of his seed staining the sheets when he looked down, and for a moment that made him think about tomorrow. Would Sansa take moon tea? Would she never share her bed again or should he wait for her to join him in the lord's chambers from now on? And the door, still open wide, brought more thoughts to his mind about how the North, the rest of the kingdom and the remaining Starks would react to what they had no doubt heard that night. He thought especially about how Daenerys might react. Those thoughts were pushed aside with equal speed. Whatever came tomorrow - Arya, the North, Cersei, Daenerys or anything else - would come tomorrow. Tonight, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark had celebrated the end of the Long Night and the freedom of one. war won. Tonight, the wolves of Invernalia howled together.
0 comentários - Aullar como lobos