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It had started so well. That wasn’t true. They hadn’t exactly hit it off on their first meeting, but their relationship had bloomed into something great. Daenerys didn’t think she’d been so happy before. She’d loved and lost. She lusted and fucked. But Jon was the first man she’d done everything with, he was the first man she actually thought she could marry. It had been bliss.
Then his family intruded on their perfect little bubble and popped it. Those fucking Starks.
Daenerys kind of hated them. She’d wanted to like them. Jon had spoken so well of them, and when Daenerys had first come to Winterfell, she had been eager to make a good impression. She had wanted to win them over.
She hadn’t, and her failure had poisoned her relationship with Jon. She didn’t want to blame it all on the Starks, but it was hard not to. Daenerys had known that Jon had issues with his family. He had told her that he always felt like he didn’t belong; that he’d intruded on their perfect family as he’d been taken in after his mother died in childbirth. But he’d still loved his family, and his issues were nothing compared to the crap Daenerys had suffered with her own father and brother. So she’d been foolishly optimistic meeting them.
That optimism had been misplaced as Daenerys had been hated by the Starks on sight. It had caused a lot of tension between Jon and Daenerys and not the good kind they’d had at the start of their relationship.
They had been happy, and then his family decided she was the enemy, and now Jon was picking up a box of his things, exiting her life for good.
He went through the box. Daenerys wasn’t sure if he really didn’t trust her anymore or if he was just using it as an excuse to linger. She rolled her eyes as she uncrossed her arms and stopped leaning against the wall, “Jon, do you really think I was that desperate to keep your Direwolves t-shirt?”
Jon glared at her in response, and Daenerys resented the way her heart sped up at the sight. How dare he still have such power over her. He was leaving, he deserved nothing.
But her body didn’t seem to agree, still wanting him, remembering every sweat-soaked night. Why did his bitchy family have to take away the best lay of her life? As Jon continued to look through the box of his things, Daenerys imagined scenarios where she and Jon might stay fuck buddies, not be together but still have sex.
She knew it would never happen. Even if her heart could take it, Jon was more of a romantic than he liked to admit. He’d told her once that he had no interest in sex without a relationship. That causal sex seemed so empty and hollow to him. Daenerys had loved him for the confession at the time and had thought she had caught herself a good man. As it turned out, she’d been a fool to think Jon Snow better than any other jerk she’d met. His only good quality was that he was better at hiding his asshole behavior.
For an honest man, Jon had said plenty of things that turned out not to be true. He’d told her that his family would come to see her for who she really was and had reassured her that while they may not love her right away, they would learn to, for him, if nothing else.
His family hadn’t even tried, which Daenerys could’ve lived with. Her own family was so fucked up, she could’ve put up with Jon’s family being rude to her without a problem. What she couldn’t stand for was Jon’s utter lack of spine around them. It was as though he’d become a completely different person than the confident equal she’d grown to love in Dragonstone. He hadn’t spoken one word of defense for her. Daenerys felt the anger rise up as she watched Jon lift his box. She had to say something. Their relationship was already over, it wasn’t like she could injure it more. “You know, Jon, of all things, I never thought you would turn out to be a coward.”
Jon’s glare returned. Daenerys felt another rush of heat. She ignored it. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Daenerys lied.
“No, say what you so clearly want to say,” Jon pressed.
Daenerys' eyes met his. She had once thought his eyes the color of stone, stable and reliable, but they reminded her more of a foreboding storm now. “I guess I just thought you might have fought a little harder for us. Not give in as soon as I was inconvenient for you to love.”
“Oh, this is my fault? That’s what you’ve been telling yourself?” Jon yelled, throwing down the box. “How is this my fault? You’re the one who made me choose. You’re the one who put me into an impossible situation, Dany.”
“It’s my fault?” Daenerys wasn’t surprised that Jon decided that, but it still hurt to hear it.
“Of course it is,” Jon’s hand went to his hair, messing it up in a way that Daenerys once loved. Disheveled Jon was still hot to her, and Daenerys wasn’t happy to discover as she felt herself begin to throb at the delightful picture he presented. “You were the one who told me that I needed to abandon my family, my friends and my roots up north and move south with you. How was that fair?”
“I only pointed out the truth. Your family hates me, Jon. They hate anyone that doesn’t fit into their little picture of perfection. You were perfectly fine moving to King’s Landing before your sisters and friends started in on you.”
“Yeah, it’s all their fault. When you’re the bitch who told them you would burn them all alive if you could. You remember that? That was a great day for me, let me tell you.”
“Oh, it was a fantastic day for me. Having your sisters tell me I was an outsider who could never be a part of your family,” Daenerys sneered. “But you tell yourself that I’m the bad guy, Jon. When it’s just you and your dog. You tell yourself how I’m the bad guy and you did nothing wrong.” Daenerys snorted. “You certainly did nothing.” She remembered every snide barb thrown her way from Sansa, Arya, and the rest of them, and how Jon sat there and said nothing and did nothing to defend her. She could tell from the look of guilt he’d had at the time that he knew what he was doing was wrong, but he’d obviously absolved himself of his sins.
If only he could be so forgiving with her.
Jon stepped in closer to her, their noses almost touching. “You are such a bitch.”
Daenerys refused to back down. “Takes one to know one, darling.”
She expected him to turn and walk away or continue yelling at her, but it turned out Jon Snow still had a bit of spine left after all. He stepped forward and kissed her. His teeth were out, nipping her lips as his tongue invaded her mouth after she gasped in response to his teasing. Jon’s hands pulled her to him, Daenerys’ body automatically conforming her body to his, as she had so many times.
As her hands went to his curls, she thought, “Gods, but I’m going to miss this.” She began to rub herself against his leg, wanting him in her now, wanting to keep him inside her forever.
Their tongues dueled as Jon picked her up, grabbing her ass roughly as he did so before slamming her against the nearest wall. Daenerys cried out as their kiss was broken by the force of hitting the wall. But her lips were immediately taken over by Jon’s once more.
Daenerys’ nails curled into Jon’s scalp and she keened at his grunt of pain. He slapped her on the ass in response. Fuck. He’d used to be so sweet with her. Their love-making lasted hours as he treated her so gently. She’d been the one who’d had to push him into roughness. Now it seemed that Jon liked it as rough as she did.
Her mind wondered if he’d be the same with the next lover, but she forced such a thought from her head, pulling back so she could rip his clothes off. Mindlessly, she pushed the jacket from his shoulders and pulled his shirt over his head.
Jon responded in kind, pushing her top up and whipping it off. His eyes darkened at the newly revealed skin and he went straight for her neck as both of their hands began to fumble with the buttons and zippers on the other person’s jeans. She finally made progress with his as he bit her neck, causing her to cry out as she pulled down his zipper. Daenerys then moved her hands to push down both his jeans and boxer-briefs.
Jon did the same, throwing her jeans and panties behind her. He bent over to unlace his shoes so he could completely disrobe and Daenerys used the moment to remove her last article of clothing: her bra.
Both naked, they took each other in, eyes greedily consuming the other, lingering as if to memorize the sight, as it was very likely it would be the last time either of them would ever be in this position.
Jon stepped forward, his hand gently cupping Daenerys’ face. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. Daenerys felt her heart melt and knew there were tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She would miss him so much.
Refusing to let him see any weakness or dwell over any feeling but lust, Daenerys forced her tongue into Jon’s mouth, making the kiss deeper and turning it more passionate. Jon responded, letting the intensity return, grabbing her once more. He slammed her back into the wall again, her legs wrapping around him as she teased the tip of his dick with the wetness between thighs. He seemed eager to enter her, but she avoided him. When he growled at her, she responded by leaving bloody scratches down his back.
His grunt of pain might have caused her to pause in the past, but as it was, she wasn’t about to stop if Jon didn’t. If they stopped, they might think. Thinking wasn’t going to help anything right now.
Jon moved her away from the wall, pushing her down onto the rug over her hardwood floors (the one he’d thought was too much money even if he admitted to liking it later). He flipped her, forcing her to go to her hands and knees.
Daenerys had hated this position before Jon. One bad boyfriend, who’d decided that it was perfectly fine to do anal with his girlfriend without lube or permission, had ruined it for her. But Jon had asked and she’d trusted him, and she found that who your sexual partner was was far more important than what position you employed.
Jon slapped her ass once more and Daenerys moaned, wiggling her ass to get his attention. It was rare for Jon to get like this. He must really be pissed at me, she thought before Jon pushed into her, erasing any more thoughts from her mind.
Fuck he felt good. Daenerys moaned, arching her back and throwing her head back as though she were a wolf howling at the moon. She remembered that wolves were Jon’s favorite animals before he moved against her, one hand holding her hip and the other grabbing a breast.
Daenerys pushed back against him and they found a rhythm with an ease that only came to seasoned lovers. The pace was fast, hard and dirty. It didn’t take long for Daenerys’ arms to fold and her head to land in her forearms as she cried, “Fuck, Jon.”
Jon’s fingers migrated from her hipbone to her clit and he rubbed furiously. Daenerys keened. She loved those clever fingers of his almost as much as his tongue. Gods, would she miss this.
Her guard down, Daenerys began to babble in a way Jon had once told her that he loved. “Fuck, so good Jon. Faster. Harder. Fuck. Make me miss it baby. Make me want you to stay.”
Her words clearly had an effect on Jon as he began to groan and swear. “Fuck, Dany. So good. Never want this to end.” He leaned forward to bite her shoulder, stopping his own babbling nonsense.
Daenerys didn’t care. She threw back her head and damn near howled. He felt so good. He knew every button to push. Damn it. Where else was she going to find this? She could feel her orgasm building and she threw one leg around his hip, trusting Jon enough to keep her up.
Trust.
They’d started going bareback about a month ago. She’d trusted him and they had been planning to move in together after visiting Winterfell, so it didn’t seem like much of a risk. Plus, while all talk of children had been theoretic, Daenerys knew they’d been on the same page. She’d even taken to picturing imaginary sons and daughters in moments of daydreams, with his hair and her eyes or vice versa. They would make such adorable kids.
Fuck him for that, she thought, suddenly mad. Fuck him for making her fall in love with him, begin to dream and plan a future with him only to take it all away. And for what? Some cousins he’d barely talked to in the year they’d known each other?
She took the sudden hatred she felt for him out on his hard and willing body. She threw herself back, clearly surprising Jon as he lost his balance and fell backwards. Not giving him time to complain, Daenerys spun around and began to ride him.
Fuck him, she thought. Fuck him and his whole family. He wanted to pick a bunch of ignorant assholes over her? Fine. She didn’t care. She loved his hard dick, his perfect abs, his beautiful hair and everything else about him. But she could find another one just like him. She was Daenerys motherfucking Targaryen and Jon Snow was replaceable.
She knew that was a lie.
Daenerys pushed such thinking aside as she chased her orgasm. One hand pressed down on his pec and the other went to her clit. Jon pushed himself up and captured one of her nipples between his teeth. Daenerys groaned and she brought her hand around to attempt smacking his ass, but she could only reach the top portion of it. Jon didn’t seem to notice or care, thrusting up to meet her every time she crashed down on him.
The sex was almost violent. That wasn’t how it used to be. They’d once been sweet and loving. Now, the rougher it was, the better the sex. Neither cared as they chased their completion with a single-minded selfishness that also used to be so unlike them.
They found release together, screaming into each other as they humped their way through their orgasms.
Daenerys collapsed on Jon, as both of them caught their breaths. She could feel the sweat droplets on his chest and thought about licking them off, but it felt like something she would have done in the days before Winterfell.
They’d fucked in his family home, but it hadn’t been the slightly naughty way she’d pictured before the trip. The taboo of doing an adult activity in his tiny childhood bedroom. Instead it had been a way to say everything they couldn’t say in front of his family. Every grievance and annoyance they’d had with each other had found its outlet in the bedroom.
Maybe if Daenerys had just kept her mouth shut the whole trip and just took her anger out on him when they were naked, they could have made it. But she refused to think such things, as she sat up. If I look back, I’m lost, she thought, never wanting to dwell too much on the past.
She looked around for her clothes but decided that this was her place. Jon would be the one to leave. So rather than dressing, Daenerys got up, walked to the couch and wrapped herself in the blanket on there. She sat down, tucking her legs underneath her and willing herself not to cry.
She could hear Jon dressing but refused to look at him. She needed to shower, as she could feel his semen drying on her thighs, but she didn’t want to leave Jon, didn’t want to let him walk out the door without at least being present for the end. She still refused to look at him though and she didn’t understand her own contradictions. Until she heard him clear his throat, causing her to look back.
Jon was zipping up his fly and stood there for a moment, looking at her like he wanted to say something.
Daenerys wanted to say something. She wanted to apologize, wanted to tell him that she didn’t care about his family or any of what had happened in Winterfell. She wanted to tell him that she would do whatever it took to stay with him. She was even willing to beg.
But her pride stopped her. Her pride, which had seen her through so much in life, stopped her from saying a word to Jon.
He left without saying another word to her. Though an hour later she noticed that he hadn’t managed to remember to pick up the box of his stuff he’d come over for in the first place.
She tried not to read into it or the very real possibility that he might return.
Daenerys also didn’t read into the way the thought of his return made her heart skip a beat.