Made your mark on me (a golden tattoo)

by WinterRose527

Summary:

Jon and Myrcella are friends, and as friends, they feel as though it is very important - for their friendship, obviously - to indulge each other's deepest sexual fantasies. For friendship reasons.

but actually, Jon & Myrcella fall into a role playing sex only thing, with dom/sub tones (not sure whether to catalogue them as over or under)

*this a real don't like/don't read situation. I've tagged this VERY consciously. (of course if you feel that there are other tags to add, please let me know, but otherwise not so much!)

obviously the title is from Dress because I'm obsessed with Taylor Swift an in my opinion it is Joncella's unofficial (re: official) theme song

Chapter 1

She was a quick little thing.

 

Not quick enough though. It was inevitable, that he’d catch her, they both knew it. All she’d succeeded in was hardening his resolve.

 

Amongst other things.

 

He pinned her, taking her small wrists in one hand, raising them above her head. His other hand took hold of some of her soft hair and he lowered his nose to it, breathing in her sweet smell. Her chest was heaving, either in anticipation or exertion. A stubborn blush rose on her creamy throat, and he wanted to know how far it spread.

 

“What’s a highborn girl like you doing out here on your own?” he asked her. A stubborn look set on her lovely face, those pink lips set into a firm pout, her pale green eyes alight like wildfire. The fight hadn’t left her yet. That was good. With her hair still in his grasp he brought his hand to her throat, squeezing it. “Tell me.”

 

Her breath came in shallow spurts, her wrists moving against his hand. He kept his grasp on her loose, to show her she could try all she wanted but she wasn’t going anywhere.

 

“I was… I was out for a ride and I got lost,” she told him. Her eyes looking into his, “Wildlings aren’t supposed to be South of the Wall.”

 

He grinned, “And highborn ladies aren’t supposed to be out on their own, but here we are.”

 

“My betrothed will kill you when he finds you,” she warned.

 

“He’s welcome to try,” he told her, tightening his grip on her throat, “Either way, I’ll have had you by then and will die a happy man.”

 

He turned her around then, one hand still on her wrists, the other roaming about her freely. She struggled, but it only served to push her ass against him. He took hold of her waist to steady her, but his hand wasn’t satisfied, moving around her and then up, taking hold of a warm, soft breast through the silk she was wearing, squeezing in his hand as he thrust his hard cock against her.

 

“Please,” she begged.

 

He tugged on her nipple and she whimpered. His forehead fell against the back of her head.

 

“When I’m done with you, you won’t want your betrothed,” he promised her. His hand slipped under the silk and he grasped her bare breast, feeling her heart beating erratically under his palm. “That’s when you’ll know I’ve stolen you for good.”

 

“No,” she struggled, “I’ll never want a savage like you.”

 

He chuckled, “We’ll see about that.”

 

With that he pushed her down to her knees. He let go of her wrists and she took advantage, trying to crawl away. He’d hoped she would. The sight of that pert little ass and her golden hair. She looked wild herself for a moment.

 

He sank down to his knees too, taking hold of one ankle, dragging her back. The slightest push of his hand on her hip had her turning over, falling onto her back.

 

“I’m a princess!” she cried out, “My father is the king. He’ll pay you all the gold you want for my safe return.”

 

“A princess,” he sighed in surprised delight, his hand on her silk hem, pushing it up her legs. She was bare for him then, and he pushed her thighs apart. “Well your father can keep his gold,” he said and lowered his face to her cunt, nuzzling his nose against the hair that was as soft as that on her head, “I prefer yours.”

 

She was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flattened his tongue against her, greedy for every drop of her. He wanted to be covered in her dew. Proof that she wanted this as much as he did, whatever she may say.

 

“Oh,” she cried.

 

His hands moved up her body, tearing the silk off her as his tongue lapped at her. Her nipples were peaked and he took them in between his fingers, twisting them gently, groaning against her as her hips rose to meet him.

 

Women were all the same, even proper ones like her. Get your tongue on them and they were yours.

 

“Please,” she whimpered.

 

“Please what,” he growled against her.

 

She shivered and nearly whispered, “Please don’t stop.”

 

He smiled against her, his tongue lapping at her little pearl before he licked down and pushed it inside of her. She cried out and he rubbed his nose against her pearl as he fucked her with his tongue.

 

“I… I don’t… ohhhhh,” she cried out, her body undulating as she peaked.

 

He raised up on his knees, looking down at the sight before him. Her legs were open to him. Her cheeks flushed, her necks flushed, her rosebud nipples pink and pert. Her golden hair surrounded her, raising with her rapid breaths.

 

Her eyes were on him the way an animal might look at you from a trap. They knew what was coming and even still had to watch you approach.

 

He rid himself of his clothing, only stopping every so often to take hold of her thigh, lest she try to think to get away even now.

 

Those eyes of her went wide when she saw his cock, hard and weeping for her.

 

He placed his hands on either side of her head, boxing her in as he lowered himself between her legs.

 

“Please,” she said softly, “You’ll ruin me for my husband.”

 

He shook his head, “You still don’t get it do you, princess?” He took hold of one of her thighs, bringing the tip of his cock to her warmth, “You’re not going to have a husband.” And then he shoved inside of her entirely, letting out a groan as she cried out, “You’re my woman now.”

 

She was warm, and wet, and tight and he lost himself in her. He thrust hard, too hard, but her body welcomed him again and again.

 

He felt one of her hands on his bare back, her fingernails digging into it. He took her other hand in his and raised it above her, interlacing their fingers. Her nails there bore into his knuckles.

 

“That’s it, princess,” he agreed, rolling his hips into her, “I’ll making a wildling of you yet. Now that you’re mine.” She moaned and he lowered his lips to hers, his tongue licking into her mouth. “Mine.”

 

“Yours,” she cried out.

 

Her submission turned him into an animal and he bucked into her wildly, making her say it over and over again.

 

He felt her building once again, the way she clenched him, the look in her eyes. He kept his on her lovely face, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

 

“Come on my cock, princess,” he urged her, “Come with me inside of you. Show me whose you are.”

 

“Yours,” she cried out again, and he felt her body contracting around him.

 

“Mine,” he groaned as he released inside of her.

 

He collapsed on top of her, laying down on top of her small body, his cheek against her soft, warm breast. They were both taking greedy gulps of air, and his fingers played with the silky hair that had fallen against her other breast.

 

Closing his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

 

That turned to a laugh when she said, “So uh, let’s put that firmly in the repeat column.”

 

He looked up at her, “Yeah?”

 

She nodded, her fingers playing with his hair, “Definitely.”

 

He eased up her, kissing her breast and her chest and her neck and her cheek, stroking her hair, “It was a really good call upgrading yourself to a princess.”

 

She giggled, “You know me, Snow, go big or go home.”

 

“Let’s get you up,” he said.

 

“I’m a little afraid to move,” she noted.

 

He chuckled, “I’ve got you.”

 

He got up on his knees and then put one arm under hers and the other underneath her back. He stood up, picking her up off of the floor and carrying her tiny form through his living room where they’d acted out his most recent request.

 

Laying her down gently on his bed he went to his closet.

 

“T shirt or sweatshirt?” he asked her.

 

“Is that black sweater clean?” she asked hopefully.

 

He looked in and grabbed it off the hanger. It was his favorite, hers too. He’d just had it dry cleaned, and now she’d improve it with her smell.

 

He pulled on some boxer briefs and then brought it over to her. She raised her arms and he pulled it on her, easing her golden hair out of the neck.

 

Wordlessly she eased forward on the bed and he got on behind her, pulling her between his legs, until her back was to his chest. He felt the soft thread of the sweater, smoothing it against her softer skin.

 

He sat high up against the pillows and grabbed the glass of water that was on his bedside table and handed it to her. She pushed it away.

 

“Come on, a few sips,” he urged. Saying in her ear, “Be a good girl for me.”

 

She whimpered, “That’s so unfair.”

 

He grinned, kissing her cheek, “I know, but come on.”

 

She took a sip of water, and then another one, before handing the glass back to him. He set it on the table and leaned back against the pillows, and she leaned back against him.

 

The first time he tied her up, well, before the first time he’d tied her up, he’d read about aftercare. He wasn’t sure what to call exactly what it was that they were doing, only that she seemed to crave some tenderness afterwards. They weren’t following any sort of guidelines or anything, but this worked for them.

 

Her head tucked underneath his chin and she took hold of his forearm, hugging it to her. Her eyelashes were tickling his skin and his other arm wrapped around her, holding one of her knees.

 

He’d never tell her, but sometimes he looked forward to this part as much as whatever roleplay they were indulging in.

 

Her mood always varied, and he could never really predict it. Sometimes it was her ideas that made her silent for a long while, until she finally fell asleep against his chest. Other times, she was absolutely wired.

 

Like now.

 

“Ooh,” she said, “What if next time I have to like… negotiate for my people.”

 

He grinned, tilting her chin up so that she could look at him, “Like I’m uh… gonna conquer you all?”

 

Her eyes flashed but she nodded happily, “Yeah and I have to like… bring peace to the kingdoms and you only have one demand.” She then nuzzled his nose with hers, “Want to know what it is?”

 

He could guess, but he wanted to hear her say it, “Tell me.”

 

“I have to take you in my mouth in front of all the lords,” she told him excitedly.

 

Because somehow, this was the sort of thing that Myrcella Baratheon now said to him. Often.

 

Two months ago, even his daydreams of her wouldn’t say things like that. She was so dainty and prissy – it was no real surprise that she had upgraded herself to being a princess. He’d wished he’d thought of it, but honestly her reveal was better.

 

Now, here she was though, in his bed, freshly fucked and musing about going down on him.

 

He kind of couldn’t believe this thing had been going on for two months. It was unbelievable, even though he could hardly remember what life was like before it started. Though he knew it was duller, definitely.

 

The night it started had really been like any other. They were at a bar with their friends. Theon, Marg, Elinor, Gendry. A couple of others. They’d gotten one of the big, round tables that always made someone determine they had to have a big group discussion.

 

For whatever reason – actually, probably due to Theon or Marg – the discussion that night had been about sexual fantasies.

 

It kept getting interrupted, by someone going to go get another round, or hit on someone or load up the jukebox before the other group across the way could, but they’d been going around the table.

 

The fantasies had ranged from the standard – a fireman saves me from a burning building and then ravishes me (Elinor) – to the predictable – I have a harem of women who all love each other but they love me more and all they want is to serve at my beck and call (Theon) – to the weirdly specific – I live on a farm in medieval times. The girl on the farm over from me is someone I’ve known my whole life, but suddenly she’s this woman. And she’s milking the cows, and I go in there and – (Grenn).

 

It was a little hard to disclose his when he was sitting next to Ella. She was the star of every one of them. Especially difficult with Gendry right there. She’d been so adorable, covering her ears when it had been her brother’s turn saying bread and butter bread and butter bread and butter. That’s for bees Theon had informed her. When it had been his turn he’d offered something as traditional as possible, couldn’t even remember what it was. The trick with Theon was to bore him, so that he’d move along.

 

He'd gone to the bathroom at one point and when he’d come back he’d found that the group had dispersed. He could see them throughout the bar, but when he’d looked at the table he’d seen her sitting there by herself.

 

She was texting on her phone but smiled at him as he slid back in the booth next to her. Hey, she’d said, I didn’t want you to think we’d abandoned you! Because she was more than prim and proper and delicate, she was sweet.

 

It was so hot.

 

It was that, which made him say we never got to your fantasy. She’d blushed and smiled probably a good thing with Gendry around. Do you think it’s possible to punch a fantasy? He’d chuckled, if anyone could it’d be him. Her eyes had caught on his for a second and whatever he’d seen there had caused him to nudge his arm against hers, But go on, he’s not here. She’d blushed and told him it’s embarrassing. To which he’d pointed out Grenn has a milkmaid fetish. She had giggled and taken a small sip of her drink and then looked at it on the table rather than him and said I guess, um… I guess I’ve always sort of… imagined like a teacher/student thing? You know where I have to go and offer to do anything for a better grade…

 

His cock had hardened immediately at that. The idea of her in a little plaid skirt, asking with those wide green eyes isn’t there anything I can do? Because fuck, yes, there was plenty she could do. But you got straight As in school… he reminded her. Her blush had deepened and she’d nodded, and he’d found himself murmuring always such a good girl.

 

Her eyes had met his and her lips had parted and a half hour later she was bent over his couch as he reprimanded her for passing notes in class.

 

It had been an illuminating night. People said you shouldn’t meet your heroes, but in his opinion, you should definitely fuck the girl of your dreams. Everything about her was better than imagined, more. He had rumpled her entirely, making her come so hard she cried, and then done it all over again.

 

He had sort of expected it to be just that night, but two nights later she’d texted him, even though they were at the same party. So is that really your fantasy? Strangers on a plane? He looked at it for a moment and failed to comprehend, both that she was asking him about his fantasies and that he’d chosen one as lame as the mile-high club. After a moment he’d texted her back and said not even close… are you going to be a good girl for me and make them come true?

 

Ever since then, they’d been going back and forth. It wasn’t necessarily a tit for tat sort of thing, and honestly, a lot of times she’d mention one of hers and he would watch her lips move as she voiced his dirtiest thoughts. They had a lot of overlap.

 

Tonight had been his. A wildling steals a highborn girl. It was inspired by a show they both watched, and though she’d giggled when he first told her, he’d shown her some scenes that had inspired it and she’d nodded along saying oh you kind of look like that actor… no wonder I like him.

 

As was so often the case, even when a situation started off as one person’s it became both of theirs. There was no situation she could ask him for that he wouldn’t fulfill, and he’d yet to find one that she wouldn’t. He loved getting her off, loved causing that little hitch in breath when he played out her kinks, loved this part. The holding and the debrief and the plans.

 

There were always plans. He had stopped thinking this would end, because often no sooner had she drank her half glass of water than she was saying ooh what if… !

 

“So you bring peace to the kingdoms with these perfect lips of yours?” he asked her, kissing them lightly. “I’ll buy that.”

 

“Don’t forget this tongue,” she licked his lips and he growled at her, causing her to giggle. She then held her arms wide, her eyes closed, looking far too adorable for what they were discussing and said, “And all shall know that good Princess Ella swallowed her pride – amongst other things – for them!”

 

He chuckled against her lips, kissing her again. She kissed him back, her hand, half covered with the sleeve of his sweater, cupping his cheek.

 

He pulled away and mused, “Hey… do you think that’s what Marg means when she says she gives legendary head?”

 

Her eyes went wide for a moment and then closed as she let out a hysterical, surprised laugh, falling back against his chest. He felt her body shaking against his, and he hugged her closer. She tucked her head underneath his chin again, twisting in his arms and hugging him around the waist.

 

He could tell her eyes were closed just by the sound of her voice.

 

“You kill me, Snow,” she breathed against him.

 

He sighed, his hand seeking her soft hair and agreed, “Right back at you, Baratheon.”

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

So glad you guys are here for this one! The first ch definitely has the most non-con fantasy that I think they'll do. I could note in the summary which kinks/roles they are going to explore in the ch but idk I feel like some of the fun is not knowing?

I will say that the kink they explored in this ch was absolutely my intention but where it ended up was not? These fuckers really just did what they wanted, I am but a vessel.

Hope you enjoy!

She lay back, adjusting the throw pillow beneath her head.

 

“Are you comfortable?” her therapist asked.

 

“Yes,” she lied.

 

The couch itself was comfortable, but she never laid like this. It made her feel like a dead person. Even still, she didn’t think this was the sort of scenario when she could curl into the fetal position, which is actually what would have made her comfortable.

 

“How do you feel this week?” he asked her, in his deep, thoughtful voice.

 

“Conflicted…” she answered.

 

“And why is that?” he asked.

 

“Well…,” she sighed, “I’ve been having those… fantasies again.”

 

He was silent for a moment and then asked, “Tell me more about that.”

 

She opened her mouth to do just that, but a laugh bubbled out of her lips instead. She sat up and looked across the living room at where Jon was sitting in his armchair.

 

“I’m calling it,” she laughed, “I can’t do it.”

 

Jon sighed and leaned his head back against the chair, “Thank god.” She giggled and then he gestured down to his blazer, “Is this even what a therapist wears?”

 

She laughed and got up from the couch. He was such a trooper for going along with this one. She had texted him the night before, calling him Dr. Snow, and he’d just rolled with it.

 

Walking over to where he sat, he put the notepad and pencil he was holding down (he’d even gotten props) his hand going to her waist and then the back of one of her thighs as she climbed onto him, straddling him.

 

His hands met in the middle on her ass and he squeezed it as her lips touched his.

 

“I don’t even know where I got the idea,” she admitted, then smiled, “I think I just like you in those.”

 

“These old things?” Jon asked, peering down at her over the tops of his glasses.

 

She nodded and he kissed her again, and she widened her thighs so that she could get even closer to him, her hands pushing the blazer off his shoulders.

 

He let her pull it off him, dropping it to the floor, and then he cupped her cheek in his hand, kissing her deeper.

 

“Sorry it didn’t work out,” he told her.

 

“That’s alright,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips close to his, “I guess I just want to be this close when I’m divulging my darkest fantasies…”

 

He groaned against her lips, as his wandered over them languidly.

 

“Tell me now, then,” he urged.

 

She giggled against his lips, her hands going into his hair to hold him steady so she could kiss him more purposefully.

 

“I think you know most of them,” she reasoned, in between kisses.

 

He kissed her jaw, up to her ear, “I want them all.”

 

His breath was hot but she shivered anyway. There was no explaining the way her body reacted to his, but she felt everything. His soft curls in her fingers, his strong hands wandering over her, the barest touch of his lips against her skin. She breathed him in for a moment.

 

There was one fantasy she had. It was a biggie.

 

Him and her. Just them. No roles. No story. Just them.

 

It was the one that plagued her more and more lately. And that wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy what they were doing. Enjoy didn’t quite capture the absolute ecstasy she felt when they were together. The way he controlled her body, her mind, the way he took everything she wanted to give him, gave her everything she wanted. She had never felt anything like it.

 

Even still, when her eyes closed at night, or when her mind drifted at work, it was to the same fantasy again and again.

 

He pulled away from her slightly, a small smirk on his face. He saw her blush and tried not to smile, his thumb stroking it gently.

 

“Tell me,” he urged. The charcoal of his eyes was thin, as it usually was when they were together, his pupils dilating as though he was trying to see everything all at once. Even still, they were warm as he looked at her, crinkly slightly at the edges. “You know I’ll do whatever it is.”

 

She wondered what he would say if she asked. If he’d be surprised. He would do it, she knew. Because he was right, she did know that he’d do anything she asked. But she didn’t want him to indulge her.

 

She wanted him to want her. And he did on a certain level. That was obvious. But her her was a different story.

 

Sometimes after they’d gone through whatever fantasy, one of them would reach for the other again. Sometimes it was clear they weren’t finished. But they’d never started out that way.

 

“Oh this has to be good,” he grinned at her. She looked into his eyes and his softened, kissing her gently. She closed her eyes and his hands took hold of her cheeks, pressing gentle kisses to her temple and her brow. It filled her with want, even as she felt contentment wrap around her. His voice was low, and soft and irresistible when he said, “Be a good girl and tell me.”

 

She whimpered and she felt his smile against her.

 

That voice, those words, could convince her to do anything and he knew it.

 

She couldn’t risk it and tell him the truth. She knew the first words that would come out of his mouth. Oh, El, he’d say with a sigh. Oh sweet, innocent Ella who can’t separate things. She didn’t want to be that person.

 

But he was too smart to trick.

 

She couldn’t give him some obvious one like boss/employee because he’d know she was lying. So she went into the archive and thought of the ones she’d held back.

 

“Well…,” she started and felt him still his attentions on her. “There is sort of something, but if it makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me.”

 

“Mmhm,” he mused against her forehead.

 

“Well I… have always been… a little curious about… the daddy kink?” she all but squeaked.

 

Her second most illicit fantasy, right after Jon Snow making love to her.

 

She wasn’t even sure that she was all that interested in it. They could be looking at an 0 for 2 kind of night, which had never ever happened. But the naughtiness had always sort of intrigued her, and it fit with her more submissive nature in the bedroom.

 

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said, “This uh… does feel a little wrong.”

 

“Oh,” her cheeks flamed, “Yeah, of course sor-“

 

“I’d never let my baby girl wear so many clothes,” he told her then.

 

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes flicked up to his. The charcoal was entirely gone now, black shining orbs drank her in.

 

And just like that she had a daddy kink.

 

“I’m sorry daddy,” she offered, because it felt like the right thing to say.

 

His fingers took hold of her chin, bringing her lips close to his. Hers parted and he saw it, the beginnings of a smile on his.

 

“Then be a good girl and take them off before daddy has to punish you,” he ordered.

 

One daddy kink would now live in her head rent free going forward. It had a lot of roommates, but still.

 

Though she definitely would enjoy his punishment, she hurried to follow instruction. She couldn’t help it. She wanted a gold star at everything, including sex with him. She had long come to terms with this about herself. He’d helped.

 

She had dressed specially for the therapy session, knowing that Jon liked her in layers that he got to remove one by one.

 

His legs opened and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his legs in that way that made him look like he could take over the world if he wanted – or at the very least throw her over his knee.

 

She unbuttoned the cardigan she had on overtop her plain white t shirt. His eyes stayed on hers as the pushed the buttons through the holes one by one. She pulled it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She untucked her t shirt from her high waisted skirt, inching it up her body. As she did, his eyes panned down until it traveled up her stomach with her. She paused when the hem was just below her bra.

 

“Go on,” he urged, his voice low and sexy when he said, “Show me what’s mine.”

 

She rubbed her thighs together as subtly as she could, but his eyes caught it in anyway. He wet his lips with his tongue.

 

Inching the t-shirt up more fully she heard his breath catch as she revealed the bra he liked more than any others. It was a white lace bra with sheer cups and only a light lift, delicate and feminine.

 

She lifted the t shirt over her head, letting her hair swing back against her.

 

She went to undo her skirt but he said, “Wait.”

 

“Yes, daddy?” she asked.

 

He took one of her hands in his large one and pulled her in between his legs. His other hand traced from her collarbone, down in between her breasts, to the little bow on her bra. His fingers then splayed, his pinky and thumb stroking the small swell of her breasts.

 

She was certain he could feel her heart beating quickly, but he was used to it by now.

 

“Did you wear daddy’s favorite bra to please me?” he asked.

 

“Yes daddy,” she answered truthfully.

 

He sighed in approval, “Such a good girl.”

 

With that he removed his hand from her and kissed in between her breasts. She felt goosebumps rise and her nipples were already peaked. One of his hands went to her leg, moving up her stocking-clad thigh, underneath her skirt and stroked over her butt.

 

“Are you wearing the matching panties?” he asked her.

 

She shook her head, “No daddy.”

 

He tutted against her left breast, his teeth baring, grazing over it in a way that made her shudder.

 

“Why not?” he asked.

 

“Y…you ripped them,” she reminded him.

 

“Oh,” his brow knit, “Right.”

 

She giggled and he smiled, shaking his head and getting back into character. His hand went into the waistband of her stockings and he pulled them down quickly, in one sure motion. She gasped and he turned towards her right breast, sucking a bloom on it as his other hand cupped her butt as he eased the stockings down her so that she could step out of them.

 

“Silk?” he asked, his finger tracing just under the edge of one side.

 

“Yes daddy,” she breathed unsteadily, his fingers were so close to her.

 

“What color?”

 

“White,” she told him.

 

“Turn around,” he ordered. She did as she was told. “Bend over.”

 

She bent at the waist, placing her hands down on the coffee table. One of his hands took hold of the hem of her skirt, lifting it up and holding it against the small of her back. She felt his nose travel in between her cheeks through her underwear, his other hand moved in between her thighs, moving up one. He stopped a centimeter away from her, holding her thigh in his hand.

 

“Daddy,” she whimpered.

 

“Be patient, baby girl,” he urged, “So I can give you a reward.”

 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she closed her eyes, trying to keep it together.

 

“I can feel how badly you want daddy to touch you,” he told her, “I can feel your heat and I’m not even touching daddy’s pretty little cunt.” She bit her arm to stop herself from crying out for him. “Hey hey hey, no baby girl,” he swatted her butt gently, “No hiding from me.”

 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she whimpered, “I just want you so badly.”

 

He groaned, biting one of her butt cheeks, “Daddy wants you too. I’m so hard for you baby girl, you don’t know what you do to me.”

 

“Can I see?” she asked.

 

Jon kissed her butt and then the hand holding her skirt lifted her up by the waist until she was standing straight then turned her around.

 

His hands unzipped her skirt and then he pulled it down her thighs, letting it drop down her body entirely.

 

Jon’s eyes wandered over her, and he swallowed hard.

 

“On your knees,” he told her.

 

She dropped down to her knees, looking up at him. He brought his finger to her bottom lip and he traced it along. Her tongue went to meet it and his eyes widened slightly and then pushed his finger into her mouth, resting it on her tongue. She closed her lips around and then glided down so that her lips were at his knuckle.

 

“You need something bigger in there, don’t you?” he asked her. She nodded, her tongue swirling over the pad of his finger. “Do you think you deserve daddy’s cock?” She shook her head. “No?”

 

She glided back down his finger until only the tip of it was back on her lip, “Let me earn it though, daddy.”

 

Her cheeks were in his hands so quickly and then his mouth was against her lips, devouring her. She gasped into his mouth, kissing him back and then giving up and letting him kiss her however he wanted.

 

He released her cheeks but not her lips and she heard his belt undoing. She moaned into his mouth, but he pulled away from her.

 

Her hands went to his thighs, kissing his knee through his pants, “Please daddy.”

 

She felt his hand in her hair, grabbing a fistful of it as his other went to the back of her neck.

 

“Fuck, baby, take it out,” he half groaned half plead.

 

She lifted her head and unzipped his pants and then pulled them and his boxer briefs down. He lifted up so that she could pull them off entirely and she tossed them behind her.

 

His cock was hard and big and perfect.

 

She took hold of it in her hand and then brought it into her mouth, licking around the tip and then down the underside in a way she knew he loved.

 

If you had asked all two of her ex-boyfriends, they would have told you that she was entirely indifferent to giving head. She had done it because she knew she ought to and she knew they enjoyed it and she hadn’t minded it.

 

Jon’s cock in her mouth was something entirely different though. His skin was velvety smooth, which only amplified how hard he was. She couldn’t explain why it was such a comforting weight against her tongue but it was, and she loved to find new ways to make it twitch in her mouth, to make him grab hold of her hair or her shoulder or any other bit of her that he could.

 

She looked up at him as she licked back along the vein.

 

“Thank you, daddy,” she said, with the tip of his cock against her tongue.

 

Before he could say anything she wrapped her lips back around him and took him as deeply as she could, spitting saliva on him until it ran down his length enough to make her hand move up in down him more enjoyably to make up for the part she couldn’t fit.

 

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned.

 

She gagged on him and then ran her lips along him again only to take him further until he was at the back of her throat. Her hand moved along his base and she brought her other hand to his balls, cupping him gently.

 

“El, oh god, your mouth is perfect,” Jon cried.

 

It urged her on. She loved getting him off. Loved when he forgot what they were playing, forgot everything except her.

 

She popped off his cock and took his balls in her mouth, sucking on them, her hand rubbing his cock faster.

 

Jon’s hands went into her hair and he pulled gently until she released him.

 

“Daddy’s going to fuck your mouth now,” he told her. She whimpered, rubbing her thighs together. He stood up and she opened her mouth, and he stroked her cheek once before he pushed his cock in between her lips. He started shallowly and she kept her lips puckered, her tongued licking along him anytime he went inside of her. “Fuck, baby. Daddy wanted inside his perfect cunt too, but your mouth feels too good. Open wide, baby.”

 

His hand held her steady and she opened her lips wider and he thrust into her deeply, making her gag, before he pulled her off him once again.

 

“Show me daddy’s tits,” he ordered.

 

She leaned back, placing her fingertips on the floor, her back arched.

 

“Fuck you’re a picture,” he growled, his hand rubbing his cock for another moment and then he came, his come falling in warm droplets on her breasts.

 

She leaned her cheek against his leg, catching her breath, and she felt his hand stroking her hair gently. He pulled it back softly and crouched down, kissing her lips.

 

She kissed him back, her fingers weaving into his hair, the other arm wrapping around his shoulder. His arms went around her and under her and then she was in his arms.

 

“We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he told her, “And then we’ll see about that reward.”

 

She leaned in and sucked on his earlobe, “I thought that was my reward.”

 

He chuckled, “Sweet baby girl.”

 

Usually he brought her into his room, but he brought her into his bathroom, setting her down on her feet as he turned on the shower. He pulled off his t shirt and she drank in his hard, muscular body, his perfect olive skin. While they waited for it to heat up, he nosed at her hairline, his fingers trailing down her arms, making her shiver.

 

“We’re going to warm you up too,” he told her.

 

She blushed, “You know I’m not cold.”

 

He chuckled against her, his fingers going to her hard nipples, “My mistake.”

 

She giggled but it caught as she felt his fingers moved into the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down her hips. She looked up at him as they fell down her legs and she stepped out of them.

 

His eyes were on her body, his fingers moving up her waist, around her back to undo her bra. He pulled the straps down her arms, folding it carefully and placing it next to the sink.

 

She giggled and he blushed, looking at her, “I really like it.”

 

“Thank you, daddy,” she said.

 

His eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat, “Of course, baby girl.”

 

She stepped closer to him and stood up on her tiptoes, tilting her face up to his. He took her not so subtle hint and kissed her, softly at first and then deeper, his strong arms wrapping around her body, pulling her to him. Her hands moved up his arms to touch his cheeks, her fingers stroking at his beard as she sucked on his bottom lip.

 

She was against the wall then and he took control of the kiss. She gave it up willingly, as she always did. His hands moved down her again, squeezing her butt.

 

“Daddy,” she whimpered.

 

One of his hands took hold of her throat, tilting her head back and licking down her neck and to her ear.

 

“I was going to wash you off first, but you’ve been such a good girl I think you deserve your reward right now, don’t you?” he asked.

 

“Yes, yes daddy,” she agreed, desperate for any part of himself he was willing to give her.

 

“You made me feel so good with your mouth, baby,” he told her, “Should daddy do the same for you?”

 

“Yes please,” she nodded.

 

“So sweet and polite,” he encouraged. He picked her up by her waist and settled her on the counter. “Spread your legs for me, baby, nice and wide. Lean back and let daddy see all of you.”

 

She did as he said without hesitation. He had seen every inch of her. Never had she felt more comfortable, sexier, being so exposed as she did when he looked at her when she was like this.

 

He lowered himself to the floor so that he was at eyelevel, and then hooked his arms around her knees and pulled her closer. His hand went to her first, rubbing her purposefully, slipping inside of her.

 

“You liked getting daddy off with your mouth, didn’t you?” he asked her. She nodded and he looked at her, removing his hand from her, “Answer me.”

 

“Yes, daddy,” she told him, “Yes, I liked it.”

 

“Did you like it went daddy fucked that lovely face of yours?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she agreed, nearly crying with want, “Please.”

 

“Shhh shhh I’m going to take care of you,” he promised, kissing the side of her knee. “You know I’m going to take good care of you, don’t you baby?”

 

“Yes daddy,” she whimpered, squirming but trying not to.

 

“That’s my girl,” he licked at her thigh.

 

She had tears in her eyes as he kissed up her leg. They fell out when he moved to the other rather than going to her center where she needed him most.

 

On the other leg he didn’t just go to her knee. He kissed and licked and nipped all the way down her leg, his teeth grazing her heel, nibbling on her toes.

 

Without warning he brought his face to her center, but he didn’t touch it, blowing on it gently, enough to make her cry out, only for his attentions to be diverted elsewhere.

 

There was a safe word she could use. She knew it. But everything he was doing felt so good, even as she felt madness taking over. Every touch of his lips made her squirm, and he was murmuring praise against her, telling her that she was good, that she was perfect, that she was beautiful, that she was his.

 

When it finally happened, she wasn’t prepared. She had been fooled before, she thought he’d pull away, but he didn’t.

 

Whatever sound she made when his lips touched her pearl had him looking up at her.

 

His eyes widened, he nearly flinched, and his hands covered her thighs, squeezing comfortingly, “Okay, okay, daddy’s sorry, shh shh baby.”

 

And then he was done teasing her entirely, focusing all of his attention on her center. Her orgasm came in seconds but it barely took the edge off and as though he knew it he kept licking and kissing and stroking her until she had another. It hit her harder than anything ever had and she lost all of her senses except one as she felt it go through her.

 

He leaned his cheek against her thigh as she regained vision, holding onto his shoulder for support. His hands were flat against her body, rubbing her leg and her arm and her stomach and her hair as he stood up.

 

“Ella, baby,” he said, stroking her cheek, “Can you stand up?”

 

“Will you hold onto me?” she asked pitifully.

 

“I’m right here, I’ve got you,” he promised.

 

He helped her off the counter and then into the shower. The warm water felt good against her skin and he felt good against her back, holding her steady. He brought soap to her chest, ridding her of the remnants of him, but then he continued washing her, his strong hands rubbing her purposefully until she felt herself start to return to her body.

 

“Jon,” she took hold of his forearm, feeling weak.

 

“I’m here, El,” he promised, his lips against the back of her head.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 

His hand cupped one of her cheeks and he pressed kisses to the other. She felt a few more tears escape her eyes and she was glad he wasn’t looking at her.

 

“You’re safe,” he told her, “We’re all done. There you go, let it out.”

 

Ever quick to obey, she let out a cry then, and told him again, “I’m sorry.”

 

He reached around her and turned off the water.

 

“Come on,” he urged.

 

They got out of the shower and then there was a large, soft towel being wrapped around her. He wrung her hair out in the sink and then grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his waist.

 

His bed looked so inviting when they went into his room. She always slept so well there.

 

Usually he asked her what she wanted to put on but he went to his dresser and came back with sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts. She dried herself off and pulled on the sweatpants, drawing the string as tightly as it could go, but it was still loose, the ankles pooling over her feet. He lifted the sweatshirt and she raised her arms and he pulled it over her, removing her hair from the neck. He brought her over to his bed and lifted the glass of water he kept there for her to her lips, his other hand on the small of her back. She took a sip, and then another, and then two more. Finally she took hold of the glass and offered some to him. He shook his head so she drained it.

 

He pulled down his covers, lifting them, and she laid down, turning on her side. A few moments later the lights turned off and then the other side of the bed dipped as he got into it. He slid over to her.

 

She found his cheek in the dark and his lips kissed the heel of her palm.

 

“I really liked it,” she told him.

 

“I know,” he said. “I took it too far though, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, no I just… it um… you… really um…,” she started but couldn’t figure out how to say it. “It’s… play but it’s not. Because you really could do anything to me. And I don’t… I know you’d never hurt me, I feel so safe, but it’s really overwhelming to feel like that sometimes?”

 

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised. “I’ll check in more. We can come up with a yellow word or something. Or we can take a break.”

 

She felt tears in her eyes again, at the barest hint of his rejection, “Is that what you want?”

 

“No,” he said, his warm forehead against hers, “God Ella that’s the last thing I want.”

 

“I don’t want that either,” she told him. “I don’t want to stop. Fuck I’m sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, “I took it too far. I did. Cry if you need to, it’s alright.”

 

She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His strong arms wrapped around her too, bringing her into the barrel of his chest.

 

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “This sounds like I’m blaming you, but I’m not. It was my fault. But… no shit that’s… never mind.”

 

“What is it?” she asked.

 

“I think I’d wanted to try that… those roles for a while, now, and uh… you’re really, really perfect at it,” he said.

 

“I am?” she wondered, hoping for that gold star even now.

 

“Better than anything I’ve ever imagined,” he told her, “And I got lost in it. But that isn’t an excuse. I just… I’m not saying it to like… I just don’t want you thinking you ruined anything.”

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she told him, “I… I just… I don’t know I’m just really glad that you did.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she told him, “I didn’t know what to expect, but it was different than the other things we’ve done? It felt like… I don’t know. Like I was in a trance or something, and I was so glad you were there with me.”

 

“I felt it too,” he said, his hands rubbing comforting patterns over her skin, “I didn’t – that’s never… it felt amazing, being in that space with you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to get to that point. There are so many things that I want to make you feel, but none of those things matter more than you feeling safe and comfortable with me.”

 

“But I do,” she told him, “I know I’m safe with you, and I’ve never – I couldn’t get to that point if I wasn’t comfortable. You didn’t do anything wrong, it just took us both by surprise. I know you would have stopped if I asked, but I didn’t want to…”

 

He was silent for a few moments, one of his hands cupping the back of her head and pressing his lips to her temple. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, hitching her leg over his, the other going in between his, crossing at the ankles so she was hugging that part of him too.

 

“I’m going to take better care of you,” he promised. Before she could protest he went on, “I know that you know I would stop if you asked. But I think – I think I didn’t realize that you… it’s more than that I’d stop. I think… maybe I’m wrong… but a part of me thinks that you think I’d be turned off if you asked me to? Like… you’d be failing at this somehow. Is that right?”

 

There was little point in lying. Her desire for perfection was well known. And he knew better than anyone how much she wanted to be a good girl.

 

“I think maybe a little,” she admitted. “But I don’t want you to think that means I’ve been wanting you to stop all this time. I’ve loved everything that we’ve done and you do take such good care of me. And tonight I – you turned me on so much I couldn’t have imagined asking you to stop. But yes… I want… to do things that make you want me.”

 

“Everything you do makes me want you,” he told her. She felt her heart seize and he cleared his throat, “I mean you… you never have to worry about that.”

 

“So you’d…” she started but stopped.

 

“I’d what, El?” he asked.

 

“Would you ever want it to be just um… us?” she wondered.

 

He was silent for a moment, and then he clarified, “Like… no roles or anything?”

 

“Yeah I’m sorry I shouldn’t –“

 

“No… I mean, no don’t be sorry, but uh… yes. To. You. You and me I mean. That’s – fuck Ella, whenever you want,” he said and then chuckled, “Sorry to uh… just name the time and place.”

 

She let out a giggle, “So that’s a yes, then.”

 

She heard his smile in the dark, his voice little more than a murmur, “Yeah it’s a yes.”

 

“I do want to try that again though,” she told him. “Can we put Daddy in the repeat column?”

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“Is it turning you on too much to think about it right now and still take care of me?” she wondered.

 

“Yes,” he repeated.

 

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it, a feeling of delirium settling in around her. She often got a little punch drunk after they’d finished. And it was impossible not to feel at least a little starry, knowing that he wanted her, even if it was just her.

 

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’ll be good,” she teased.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Ella,” he whimpered.

 

She tilted her head up and kissed him softly. He sighed into her mouth, his knuckles grazing her cheek, filling her heart with roses and her veins with wildfire.

 

“Goodnight, Daddy,” she whispered.

 

He rolled onto his back, pulling her until she was nearly on top of him, his hand smoothing over back, the other stroking her hair.

 

“Sleep well, baby.”

Chapter 3

He felt like an idiot. He knew that he at least looked like one.

 

He remembered when his cousin Robb met his wife Jeyne. Their first big fight. He’d stood outside of her window singing their song – which actually was just a popular song on the radio at the time – at the top of his lungs until one of her neighbors called the cops. There’s no way she’s that hot, he’d said. There’s no way anyone is that hot, Theon had pointed out. She is, Robb had told them, that’s not why I did it though.

 

Myrcella was not his girlfriend, and they had not gotten in a fight, and he was not standing outside of her window about to sing at her. They didn’t really have a song, though she had been humming something the other day and told him it reminded him of them. He hadn’t asked her what it was for fear of doing something completely normal like making a playlist only of that song and listening to it on repeat until he passed out. Regardless. If anyone in the world was hot enough to do what he was doing for, it was her. And that wasn’t why he was doing it.

 

Oooh it’s me, I’m hereeee oooh thank you! the voice memo she’d just sent him had said. Half of it was to the cab driver that had dropped her off. She knew he wasn’t a fan of texting so she sent him voice memos sometimes. He didn’t mind texting her, but he preferred the sing-song sound of her voice. She would sometimes send him a stream of consciousness, halfway through coming to and asking what was I saying? as though they were on the phone and he could tell her.

 

He was going to take one more look in the mirror, but honestly, ignorance was bliss in this scenario.

 

She knocked on his door and he opened it, hiding behind it, and she came inside. He closed the door and she took one look at him and screamed.

 

“NO!” she shouted, backing away from him.

 

“Ella, baby it’s me!” he held out his hands.

 

He couldn’t stop calling her that. Ever since the daddy kink night it had just rolled off his tongue. Ella, baby… Ella, baby… Ella, baby. It just fit. It just sounded right.

 

They’d been out the other night and he’d called her baby, to which Gendry responded in the most predictable fashion: the fuck did you just call her? Everyone had turned to look at him and so all he could do was squish her cheeks and coo look at the babyyyy. She had been so annoyed.

 

Which was better than horrified, as she seemed now.

 

She looked at him, her mouth dropping open, and then doubled over. He wanted to go to her, but then a hysterical laugh escaped her lips.

 

“Oh…oh my god,” she cackled. “What are you doing?”

 

“It’s Pennywise!” he told her, “You said it was hot!”

 

This set off another round of laughter, golden hair touching the floor she was crouched down so fully.

 

“I’m… I’m going to pee my pants,” she announced.

 

“You’re not wearing pants,” he pointed out.

 

“Ahhhhhh,” she laughed again, “Stop, oh my god, oh my god don’t say anything else, turn around.”

 

He chuckled but did as she asked and he heard her heels running across the floor and then the bathroom door slamming shut. A few moments later, it opened again and she walked out, her head held high.

 

“I…,” she started, “Feel like I owe you an apol-“

 

She started laughing again.

 

“Okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm, even though he was about to laugh too. Hers was so infectious. “I’m going to guess some things, and you tell me if I’m right.”

 

“That sounds fair,” she allowed.

 

“So glad you agree,” he seethed. She giggled and then covered her mouth and nodded. He tried to start talking but she sputtered out another laugh and he had to wait for her to be done. It didn’t help because he couldn’t stop smiling. “So the other night, you were uh… pretty pissed at me for –“

 

“Somehow starting something where now every time I go to sip a drink Theon says baby wants her bottle?,” she suggested.

 

He had forgotten about that.

 

“I feel like taking responsibility for anything that Theon does or does not do isn’t wise,” he noted. “However, I can understand the state of mind you were in, when people started talking about the weird clowns of 2016, and It. However…”

 

She held up her hand, “Okay, okay, I see where this is going and I would just like to say, that if I am guilty of anything – it is underestimating you.”

 

“Alright,” he nodded, “And I would just like to say that in addition to underestimating me you are also guilty of saying that you thought Pennywise was hot. And then… Oh Baratheon, that wasn’t all, was it?”

 

She looked down at her feet, “Not exactly.”

 

“What did you do when I clarified that statement?” he asked her. She mumbled something. “What was that?”

 

“I –“ laughter, “Smiled and I winked at you.”

 

“And in retrospect do you think that may have been misleading?” he asked her.

 

She nodded, “Yes, I do think it is possible I misled you. But you squished my cheeks!”

 

“Gendry is unhinged!” he protested.

 

“You are making some valid points, Snow, but it is very difficult to take you seriously when you look like that,” she told him.

 

“Ella, baby,” he sighed, right off the tongue, “I have no idea how to take this off.”

 

This, of course, was nearly full clown make up. He was surprised, now, that she hadn’t decked him.

 

Actually, she probably should have decked him. Maybe he’d have to teach her some self-defense.

 

That could wait though, the make up was itchy.

 

“Come on,” she held her hand out, “I’ll help you.”

 

He went and took her hand and she brought him into the bathroom. She gestured for him to lean against the counter, so he did, bending his legs so that he was lower for her.

 

She grabbed a wash cloth and turned on the water, holding it underneath. He could see that she was biting her cheek as she shook her head.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

She smiled, “You really would do anything, wouldn’t you?”

 

He swallowed and nodded, “I had some reservations about this one, though.”

 

“Thank god,” she joked and he smirked. Her brow knit and she looked at him. “I… it’s… that’s really sweet. But I… hope you know that I’d never want you to do something you were uncomfortable with, if I ever pose something to you that feels icky or whatever.”

 

“The only thing that feels icky is that I have this junk on my face,” he told her.

 

She grinned and cocked her head to the side, “You did a pretty good job. Better than I ever do with my make up.”

 

He peered at her, squinting, “Are you wearing any?”

 

“Now? No,” she shook her head.

 

She turned off the water and raised the wash cloth, first to his left cheek. She swiped down it gently, nodding to let him know it was coming off. He nearly closed his eyes at the sensation of her attentions, the warmth of the water, but she was so close.

 

Looking at her more closely, it was clear she wasn’t wearing make up. Her skin was so delicate, the subtle pink in her cheeks mixing with the cream of them. Underneath her eyes were pale purple half-circles, probably from a lack of sleep. Her perfect lips ever so slightly chapped.

 

She wrung out the wash cloth and wet it again and then moved to his right cheek. He could smell her light, sweet smell, most especially on her wrist where she would have put her perfume that morning.

 

“There’s that handsome face,” she smiled, after cleaning his forehead.

 

She put that wash cloth down and grabbed another, wetting half of it and working to rid his face of the remnants, before patting it dry with the other half.

 

All the while he was looking at her. Her pearly white teeth and her aristocratic nose, her dark golden hair framing it all.

 

She glanced at him and he saw a blush rise on her cheeks when she realized he had been staring.

 

“You uh… look really beautiful,” he told her, and then gestured down to the pale pink long sleeved dress she was wearing. It fell to her ankles and was made of some gauzy material, a pair of diamond studs winking at him in her ears. “Did you have something tonight?”

 

Her brow knit and she shook her head, “No it’s for you.” His mouth went dry and she stepped away, “Lady Myrcella, reporting for duty,” she told him, and then twisted this way and that, the dress swishing around her legs, showing off her tiny waist. She looked down, “Is it wrong?”

 

He’d entirely forgotten that they’d made a plan for tonight. No wonder she’d been so surprised. Not that there was ever an unsurprising moment to be accosted by a clown, but still, that couldn’t have helped.

 

“No, no, it’s – you’re perfect,” he told her.

 

She beamed at him and he felt his eyes crinkling.

 

Lady Myrcella and her father’s servant had been his idea. It was inspired by a show that she and Elinor were watching, that they’d all sort of been second hand watching because as soon as the two of them were together they would trade oh and remember! and oh my gosh no I do not like her? and so now unwittingly they all had an opinion about who really should have won the village flower show from a series they’d never seen. He’d asked Marg what it was called and she’d told him but said but seriously set yourself on fire, Snow, it’ll feel quicker than an episode.

 

Even still, he’d been curious about one couple that Ella and Elinor talked about, youtubing just their scenes.

 

Ever since the daddy kink night, he’d been trying to choose fantasies that were a bit less intense. Mostly, it was about ones that didn’t have excessive teasing built into it. But overall they’d been softer.

 

And it was because of that night, but it wasn’t all to do with how it had affected her.

 

It was because of that question she’d asked him as they lay in bed together, would you ever want it to be just um… us?

 

He did. He wanted it more than anything. He was still having so much fun doing what they were doing, but there were so many nights when he wanted to pull her into his arms and say how about just you and me tonight, baby?, but then she’d suggest something and it was so hot, and so hot that it had come from her mind, that he didn’t.

 

So, as a compromise, he’d been choosing roles that were not only softer, but closer to her. Because she was who he wanted.

 

You couldn’t get much closer to her than the brave, kind-hearted daughter of a lord or a duke or whatever. The fact that she was wearing something she would for an event anyway was proof of that.

 

Lady Myrcella. The two words were synonyms.

 

“I like this idea,” she told him. “They’re my favorite couple.” She tilted her head to the side and said, “You could just take off the jacket and tie and roll the sleeves and you’d be ready… if you’re ready…”

 

He nodded and went to tell her that he was, but then leaned in and kissed her instead. She gasped lightly and then her lips curled upwards, but she kissed him back, her fingers resting against the scruff of his beard.

 

She pulled away and said, “I will say this is a good dress though so um…”

 

He smirked, “I’ll be gentle with it.”

 

And you, he wanted to say.

 

That night had really affected him too. He hadn’t realized quite how much power he had over her. It was intoxicating and hot but it also meant he had to be really careful. All of the roles she chose seemed to give him control in one way shape or form, she was so naturally submissive, she seemed to crave relinquishing it. So that meant he had to be especially in control. Which was what he liked, anyway. He always had.

 

The only problem was that he’d never felt so out of control as when he was with her.

 

“Did you… have a scenario in mind?” she asked.

 

He nodded, “You’ll see.”

 

A ghost of a smile appeared on her gorgeous face and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

 

He could still take control without it going too far.

 

“You remember the yellow word,” he prompted.

 

She nodded, “Icicles.”

 

Their safe word was ‘Theon’, because to quote Ella I can’t think of anything that’ll make you lose your erection quicker.

 

He didn’t think she’d need either tonight, but just in case.

 

Stroking his hand through her hair he said, “Why don’t you go in the living room.”

 

Her eyes wandered over his face, and then to his body. He had no idea what she was thinking, but knew that she liked to be surprised, same as he did. The night they’d replayed their first roles, where she was his student, he’d sat in his home office and waited for her. She had come dressed from work, and changed in his apartment, so it was wholly a shock when she’d knocked on the door to his office, revealing her in a plaid skirt and white button down, one of his ties loosely around the collar, her hair pulled back in a headband. He’d nearly come on the spot.

 

Usually, he knew, a girl would have worn her skirt extra short, the button down unbuttoned, tied to reveal stomach, looking like an extra in a Britney Spears music video. But Myrcella Baratheon committed to the bit, looking every bit as beautiful and innocent as she had in her prep school days, which made it all the sexier when she offered to do anything he wanted if only he’d raise her grade. The look in those pale green eyes of hers when she’d perched on his leg would haunt him forever. He wasn’t mad about it.

 

He pulled off the jacket and the tie, checking in the mirror to make sure she’d gotten everything off. Of course she had though, so he rolled his sleeves, revealing his forearms which she’d once told him was his slutty look. He’d taken her over his knee for that.

 

Fuck. He was in so fucking deep. It was impossible to do anything without thoughts of her interrupting him – even thinkingof her got interrupted by that.

 

That was another night’s problem, because she was in there waiting for him, stunning and lovely.

 

He opened the door and she turned towards him when he stepped into the living room. Her eyes roamed over him again, and he fiddled with his hands as he stepped towards her.

 

“You got my note,” he offered. She swallowed thickly and nodded, “And you just now managed to steal yourself away?”

 

He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes, a small smile on her face. He gave her a moment and she collected herself and then those pretty lips formed a stubborn pout.

 

“You do not just get to summon me,” she warned.

 

She hardly even had to change her voice to perfectly capture it. All she had to do was let that haughtiness out, her head held high, imperiously. He felt himself on overdrive, as he always was when they did roles like this. Roles where she was pristine and elegant and aristocratic and he was going to get to be the first to undo her.

 

He didn’t need to be a fake therapist to understand why that was the case.

 

“Forgive me, my lady,” he offered sarcastically, “By all means then, go back to your party and your suitors and pay no mind to lowly me.”

 

“Don’t do that,” she chided.

 

“Do what?” he asked her.

 

“Make it about that, it isn’t about that!” she argued.

 

“It’s always about that,” he argued back.

 

“Of course, you think that,” she offered softly, shaking her head. The girl should have been an actress. He started crossing to her, and she backed away slowly. He quickened his strides and took her by the waist, pulling her towards him. Her hands went to his chest, half pushing him away, half pulling him closer. “It’s so simple for you.”

 

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, his forehead falling against hers, “Everything is simple because I love you.”

 

She let out a gasp and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d actually said that or because that’s what she thought her character would do, but she couldn’t manufacture the blush rising on her cheeks.

 

Her fingers gripped his shirt now and her eyes looked into his.

 

“You’re asking me to give up my whole world,” she noted.

 

One of his hands moved from her waist to her cheek, “I know. It isn’t fair. I’d give up mine, instead, but they won’t let me.”

 

“Jon,” she whimpered.

 

He touched his lips to hers gently and waited. He felt her sigh against him and the firmer press of her lips against his as they opened. Everything unfurled in his chest and he kissed her more deeply for a moment before he pulled away. She leaned forward to catch his lips and he stopped her with his own to her forehead.

 

“Tell me, my lady,” he ordered, his voice hollow, “Tell me what in your world feels more right than that.”

 

“Nothing,” she told him softly, those green eyes looking up at him. She shook her head, her arms wrapping around his neck, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing. Nothing I need more than you. You’re the only thing I can’t live without.”

 

That was where the scene in the show ended, but it wasn’t where theirs was going to. He kissed her again, hooking one arm behind her knees and lifting her into his arms. She was kissing his cheek and his temple and his jaw as he carried her into his bedroom.

 

He lay her on his bed and then placed a hand on either side of her head, crawling over her.

 

She was so fucking beautiful looking up at him as her hands reached for the buttons of his shirt.

 

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he told her, as though he hadn’t just laid her on a bed and gotten on top of her, “There’s plenty of time.”

 

She shook her head, her fingers deftly undoing his buttons, “I’ve waited so long. We’ve waited so long. All through this awful war. It feels like I’ve waited my whole life. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

 

He cupped her cheek, making her look at him, “Once we do this, there’s no going back.”

 

She lifted off the bed, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, her voice sweet and desperate and perfect when she told him, “I don’t want to go back.” And then, always giving him exactly what he wanted, she begged him, “Please Jon. Ruin any chance of them keeping us apart.”

 

For fucking fuck’s sake.

 

He chucked his shirt off and captured her lips with his, tackling her back to the bed. Her hands went to his back, her fingers soft and gentle as they wandered over him. He undid his pants and pulled them and his boxer briefs off and then reached underneath her dress.

 

His fingers danced over her through her underwear, barely whispering against her. They were more than a little damp. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her underwear down.

 

He pushed her dress up, but she stopped him when it was just hovering at the apex of her thighs. He looked down at her and she all but winked at him.

 

She wasn’t going to let him see her. So fucking prim.

 

Easing between her legs, he pressed his cock against her warm, wet folds. All he wanted to do was shove inside of her, but he eased in slowly. She was clenching herself closed to him.

 

This fucking girl.

 

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, her temple, breathing her in.

 

“It’s going to be okay, my lady,” he promised, “You’re safe with me.”

 

He got inside another inch.

 

“Jon,” she whimpered.

 

He rolled his hips the way he knew she liked, but slower than he’d ever done it, and she gasped and then he was inside her fully.

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he started moving inside of her. Her smooth calves rested on his, her lips at his ear so that he could hear every delicate noise that came from them.

 

He gripped her thigh, allowing it to anchor him as he felt every bit of her tight, wet, heat.

 

“I’m yours forever now,” she told him.

 

He clenched his eyes shut as a grunt left him, snapping his hips into hers harder than he meant to.

 

“Oh,” she cried.

 

She was too much. He rolled them so that she was on top of him.

 

“I…,” she shook her head, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

He lifted up so that she was sitting in his lap, cupping her cheek, “I’ll show you, my lady.”

 

Bringing one of his hands to her perfect ass he squeezed it and then pushed her against him. Her lips fell open and she eased back on him slowly and then did it again.

 

His hand moved to her waist and he rolled her slowly, until he was so deep inside of her, her body started shuddering.

 

He gripped her dress and then remembered what she’d said. So he brushed her hair to the side and unzipped it as gently as he was able, pulling it open, off her shoulders.

 

She raised her arms up and he pulled it from her body, and then this hands went to the straps of her bra, pulling them down her arms. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her collarbone and then her shoulder. Her arms were around his neck and her fingers crept into his hair, taking it between her fingers as she rocked on him slowly. He felt her lips at his temple.

 

He thrust up into her gently and her fingers gripped his hair, her lips parting against him. One of his hands held her butt, the other holding her slender arm in his hand so that he could kiss it.

 

“Jon,” her head fell back as her body rolled against him.

 

The creamy column of her throat was exposed, her soft hair swishing against his legs as she moved.

 

He buried his face in her neck, sweeping his tongue up it.

 

His hand went to hold the back of her head, supporting it, and he felt her clench around him.

 

Her hands went behind her and undid her bra, pulling it off, revealing her small, soft breasts to him. His hand moved off her butt, to the small of her back, pushing gently. She was so responsive to him, her back arched under his hand immediately.

 

He was supporting her entirely and his lips sought her breasts. He rested his cheek against the warmth of one, taking her nipple in his mouth.

 

“Jon!” she cried.

 

“Is it worth it,” he asked against her. Her head lifted and he looked in her eyes as he thrust up into her. “Knowing you’ll never be welcome in society now.” He cupped the back of her neck, squeezing it gently, “Tell me, my lady, is this worth it?”

 

“Yes, yes,” she cried, and then leaned in and kissed him, her tongue licking at his. He swallowed her moans as she started riding him faster. “I want no society apart from yours – oh just yours, yours, yours, yours.”

 

That was how she came, crying out yours again and again. That was how he came, hearing her crying out yours again and again.

 

When he’d come back to himself he lifted up and flipped them again so that she was on her back. One of her feet was flat on the bed, her knee bent, her fingers trailing over his body.

 

He kissed her knee and then her neck, feeling her palm smooth over the back of his head before her fingers slid into his hair.

 

“That was so nice,” she told him.

 

He looked down at her, “Too nice?”

 

She smiled and shook her head, “No. No I really liked it. Wasn’t that obvious?” He nodded, because it was, and her knuckled grazed his cheek, “Did you like it?” He nodded again and she smiled, “Repeat column?”

 

That column was growing longer and longer. Even if their imaginations entirely dried up – which didn’t seem like it would be happening any time soon – they could live off that repeat column for some time.

 

Though he loved trying new things with her, he really enjoyed doing things for a second, or even third time. It was helpful, to sort of know some of the parameters, but it was also uniquely thrilling when she did something that she’d clearly planned. Not only was it usually mind-blowingly hot, but all it took was the connotation – that she’d clearly been thinking about it, ways of pleasing him, when they were apart.

 

It was obvious that she did, but it didn’t affect him any less for being so.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “Repeat column for sure. Maybe next time I’ll disguise myself as a lord.”

 

“Oh, but what if my father catches you?” she teased dramatically, with a giggle, her eyes closing and her head tilting back.

 

He chuckled against her throat, trailing kisses down it to her chest. He nuzzled his face in between her breasts, making her giggle catch because she loved the feeling of his beard against them. Her breath started coming ragged as he kissed her more purposefully, his lips moving to her stomach. His tongue licked into her belly button and it growled.

 

And then he was the one laughing.

 

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed when he looked up at her. He smirked and she propped herself up on her elbows looking at him sheepishly. She scrunched her nose adorably, “I skipped dinner. Could we… order a pizza or something?”

 

“We could,” he agreed, and then he kissed her ribs, up to the side of her breast, his teeth grazing it. She shivered and he had to stop or he’d starve her just so that he could have her again. He rested his chin on her breast, and told her, “Or you could ask me for what you really want.”

 

She smiled and asked innocently, “Jon?”

 

“Oh, Myrcella, what are you doing here?” he asked her breast.

 

She giggled, “Please will you make me grilled cheese?”

 

“We’ll finish this another time,” he told her nipple, making her giggle-moan when he took it in his mouth.

 

He got off her and pulled her up. He went to his dresser and pulled on boxer briefs and then turned to her.

 

“T shirt or sweatshirt?” he asked.

 

“T shirt, please,” she said.

 

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t really help it. She looked away from him, a blush on her cheeks, a small smile on her lips too.

 

Pulling out a black t shirt from his dresser he walked it over to her. He kissed her blush and then she caught his cheeks and kissed his lips.

 

He pulled the t shirt on her, watching as it fell to her upper thighs.

 

“Why don’t you go,” he told her.

 

She looked at him, tilting her head to the side and grinned, “You want to watch me walk away?”

 

“Yes,” he chuckled.

 

It was such a cliché and he didn’t care because she looked so fucking good in it. The hem would just cover her ass, making every step she took a pleasant little bit of torture.

 

She walked backwards away from him and then stood on her tiptoes, her arms raising slightly, the hem climbing, and then she turned around. She walked slowly and then turned back and smiled at him before scampering away.

 

He chased her, catching her and lifting her off the ground carrying her into the kitchen and then setting her down on the counter.

 

He got them both glasses of water and then pulled out the butter and cheese and bread. She grabbed the pan and spatula out of the drying rack and set it down on the stove for him.

 

“This is awfully kind of you, old chap,” she informed him. “I may have skipped dinner on purpose.”

 

He smirked, “You can just ask. No need to be so coy.”

 

She giggled and shrugged, “All part of my charm, Snow.”

 

He wasn’t one of those guys who didn’t cook. He lived alone and eating take out every night of the week was neither appealing or healthy, so he’d learned over the years. He would call himself proficient in the kitchen. There were a few things that he made well, one or two things he made really well.

 

But if you asked Ella, he made the best grilled cheeses in the world.

 

Before they’d even started hooking up, she’d call him every so often after she’d been out with the girls. Are you home? she’d ask into the phone. It wasn’t a booty call, it was a butter call. She’d come over and hop up on his counter and regale him with the antics of their girlfriends and then she’d smile widely, like it was the most surprising wonderful gift when he handed her a buttery, oozing, just so very lightly burnt grilled cheese.

 

He sliced the bread and put the butter in the microwave for ten seconds just to soften it before spreading it on either side of each piece. He started slicing cheddar and then held up the gruyere.

 

“Give it to me, baby,” she grinned.

 

“Don’t be hot while I have a knife in my hand,” he warned her.

 

She laughed, “I’ll be good- shit no sorry I mean… I won’t?”

 

He chuckled and shook his head, “It was an unfair ask, you just can’t help it.”

 

The blush returned to her cheeks and she tucked some golden hair behind her ear.

 

“Jon?” she asked. He glanced at her and she said, “Are you free later this week?”  

 

She always asked that and he always said yes even if it meant cancelling plans.

 

He nodded, “How about tomorrow?”

 

She smiled at his overeagerness but then her brow furrowed, “I can’t tomorrow…and I don’t think you can either? That fundraiser for Randyll Tarly…”

 

He sighed, he’d forgotten about that.

 

“Right,” he nodded. “Let’s go help get a man elected to the senate who goes against everything we believe in.”

 

She nodded, “I know. It’s like, when the revolution comes, they’ll hold up pictures of us in black tie at that party before they execute us.”

 

“Dark,” he joked. She giggled. He then asked, before he could stop himself, “Should we uh… I mean, we’re both going… want to go with me?”

 

Her eyes widened and then winced and she shook her head, “I’d love to, Jon, really. But um… Dickon asked me to go with him.”

 

“Oh,” he nodded, tasting bile. “Yeah, right, of course.”

 

“It’s not a date or anything,” she said, looking down at her knees.

 

“He know that?” he challenged. She glanced at him and he shrugged, “Come on, El, he’s been after you for years.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Elinor,” she told him, “But she’s taking Gendry. He’s so annoyed to have to wear a tux.”

 

He nodded, “Sounds about right.”

 

It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like Dickon. Dickon was fine. He was a little too into his own status and whatever, but that was what it was. His loyalty was to Sam, but Sam wanted a relationship with Dickon and his little brother seemed to want that too, in spite of their father. And Randyll Tarly was not an easy many to go against, so that wasn’t nothing.

 

But he was after Ella. He always had been. It wasn’t like he was in her face about it or anything, but he was definitely into her and had been as long as he’d known him.

 

Which was fine, because anyone with eyes and two braincells to rub together would be into her.

 

That didn’t mean he liked her going out with him, even if it wasn’t a date.

 

The pan sizzled when he dropped the bread into it, and he pressed down with the spatula, punishing the bread for his own stupidity.

 

It wasn’t even that he was stupid to ask her out. That was actually probably the smartest thing he could do. They could have gone as friends at the very least, no one would have batted an eyelash. She and Marg and Elinor had so many of those things that he and the guys kept their tuxes permanently dry cleaned, because it was a little hard to resist when Myrcella Baratheon called you up and said Hello Mr. Bond…

 

The stupid thing was not asking her the moment he’d heard about it. You couldn’t ask a girl like her out the night before something. Especially not with anything so lame as should we uh… like what the fuck was that?

 

He didn’t even want to think about what she’d be wearing, which meant that he’d probably spend the entire next day thinking about it. She was a knockout in sweats, but when she attended one of those things she was every bit the golden girl everyone called her. Daisy fucking Buchanan, but with a heart as lovely as her face.

 

“I’d rather go with you, we’d have more fun” she told him, just to prove it. She tried to smile and tease, “Even if you don’t like to dance.”

 

His stomach clenched and he squeezed her leg, “Next time.”

 

“Promise?” she asked.

 

He swallowed hard and looked at her, nodding, “Yeah, promise.”

 

She smiled for real, then her nose scrunched, “You should wear your hair down.”

 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, flipping the grilled cheese.

 

She nodded, “Yeah it looks really good down with the tux.”

 

“Down it is,” he agreed.

 

She was the one with the praise kink but he gobbled up every compliment she gave to his appearance. Not that she withheld them, or anything, but it didn’t matter.

 

“What uh color is your dress?” he asked to torture himself.

 

She grinned, “You’ll have to wait and see.”

 

He chuckled and nodded and then grabbed a plate and plopped the first grilled cheese on it, cutting it with the spatula diagonally.

 

She picked up one of the slices and offered it to him.

 

“I’m making a second one,” he told her.

 

“We’ll split that too, then,” she noted.

 

He took the piece and she grabbed hers and then tapped it against his as though they were cheersing. She took a bite and moaned.

 

“You’re so good to me,” she told him, taking another bite.

 

He bit into his, knowing that he was hungry for something else entirely. They polished that off quickly as he made the other one, and then ate that too. She finished her glass of water and then insisted on doing the dishes and he made sure everything was turned off before they walked back into his room.

 

She looked at him and then put one of her knees up on the bed. That was all it took. One look. His heart started racing as she bent over, placing her hands on the bed too and then crawling into the center of it.

 

She lowered her cheek and her breasts to the bed, her arms extended in front of her, her back arched enticingly, the hem of his shirt climbing even further.

 

The sight before him was one of his favorites in the world. Every other one at the top was her as well but fuck did she look good like that.

 

“You haven’t had enough then,” he growled at her.

 

“No,” she told him softly.

 

He had known this was coming. They both had. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but somehow it had become a signal between them. When they finished whatever fantasy they were going through, he’d ask her if she wanted a sweatshirt or a t shirt. If she said a sweatshirt, that was that. They were done. They’d kiss and cuddle, but that was her way of telling him she couldn’t handle anymore.

 

When she asked for a t shirt, though, she wanted him again.

 

Not a second fantasy. Him.

 

He walked over to the bed and trailed his fingers along her smooth calf, watching and feeling as goosebumps rose all over her.

 

“I gave you dinner,” he told her, his index finger trailing up her inner thigh, “Are you going to give me dessert?”

 

She squirmed, “Yes.”

 

“Are you wet for me?” he asked her, “I’m not going to touch you until you are.”

 

“Yes,” she whimpered, her back arching more.

 

“Tell me,” he ordered.

 

“I’m wet for you,” she told him. “Please, Jon. Don’t tease me. I can’t…”

 

Right. No excessive teasing. She was so fun to tease though. That fucking whimper, those eyes, the way her voice sounded when she beg-But no. No.

 

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, cupping her butt. His traced his finger lightly in between her butt cheeks before entering her cunt shallowly. She was sopping. “Good girl, you told the truth.” She thrust against his fingers, “That’s it, baby, I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers.”

 

She moaned but did as he asked, sliding down them, crying out when he curled them inside of her.

 

“Like this?” she asked, and he watched her ass and hips move.

 

“Just like that baby,” he agreed. “Will you fuck my mouth like that?”

 

She moaned, her hips rocking against him, “God yes, please.”

 

He got on the bed behind her and buried his face in her ass, gripping the cheeks tightly. She cried out and he pulled her by the hips and then his lips and tongue were on her sweet cunt. He licked at her desperately and he felt one of her hands reach back and hold the back of his head. He would love nothing more than for her to shove his face against her, but this was more than good enough. He growled against her, thrusting his tongue inside of her and she cried out his name.

 

Just as he’d asked her to, she fucked back against him. His beard was covered in her and he ground his hard cock against the bed, hoping for some relief though he knew he wouldn’t get it until he was inside of her again.

 

“Oh god Jon,” she moaned, “You… you have oh goddddd.”

 

He didn’t even wait for her to come down before he pulled off his boxer briefs as he kissed up her body and then shoved inside of her. She let out a shocked moan, her cheeks and neck were red and warm as he kissed them, thrusting into her again and again.

 

“Do you have any idea how perfect your cunt is?” he asked her, marveling at it as she welcomed him again and again and again.

 

“Wait,” she pleaded.

 

He stilled, but didn’t pull out. She had promised him she’d use the words if she needed them, and that wasn’t one of them. She’d asked him to trust her that she’d tell him if she needed him to stop.

 

“Tell me what you need, Ella,” he urged. “Whatever it is.”

 

“I need you,” she told him. “Closer.”

 

He was as deep as he’d ever been inside of her, his stomach and chest covering her back, and she was asking for more. She was going to kill him one of these days and he was going to thank her for it.

 

Smoothing her hair, he brought one of his legs forward, pushing it underneath her thigh, he lifted her calf and brought it until it rested over his. He wrapped his arms around her, one of his hands taking her breast in his palm, the other taking hold of her neck gently, his upper arm hugging her shoulder to him. He kissed the back of her neck, up to her ear, nibbling the shell of it.

 

“Is that better?” he asked her.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she offered softly, reaching behind her like she had before and carding her fingers into his hair. “That’s perfect.”

 

He thrust into her, and gritted his teeth, “Fuck.”

 

It felt like he was fucking her entire existence. He could feel her pulse and her heart thudding in her chest, see the flutter of her eyelashes as he moved inside of her.

 

“You feel so good,” she told him. Whimpering, “Thank you.”

 

As though he was doing her a favor.

 

“You know I’ll always give you what you need,” he offered. Her lips fell open, and he thrust again, “You know I’ll take care of you. Don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” she cried.

 

He moaned, “That’s my girl. And all I ask is one thing in return.”

 

“Anything,” she promised immediately.

 

She drove him crazy. He fought to keep control though.

 

“When you need this, come to me. Only me,” he ordered. She moaned, her fingers scrunching in his hair. The sounds of their bodies joining were obscene, she was so wet it urged him on. “Not Dickon Tarly,” he told her and she gasped, “Or anyone else. I don’t care whose arm you spent the night on, end it in mine.”

 

“Yes, yes,” she cried, “Anything you want just please don’t stop.”

 

“Why would I stop, baby?” he asked her, squeezing her breast and her neck. He thrust harder. “You haven’t come on my cock yet.”

 

“I’m so close,” she told him, “Oh oh will you do that again?” He repeated the thrust and she cried out. And then she was babbling, “Jon, oh god. You feel so good. So deep, so perfect. I love oh god I love this. I want, I want to come on your cock. Nothing feels like this. Only you oh god JON.”

 

If her words didn’t send him over the edge, the way her cunt milked his cock as she came did. He shuddered into her, grunting out her name.

 

His hands wandered all over her, smoothing over his t shirt on her perfect little body.

 

“Mmm,” she smiled, a contented smile on her dewy face. He went to get off of her and her brow furrowed and somehow it translated to no this time when she went, “Mmm.”

 

“I don’t want to crush you,” he told her, kissing her shoulder.

 

“You feel good,” she told him. “And besides…”

 

“Besides?” he asked.

 

“There’s no use going too far,” she told him, “I’m going to want you again shortly. Is that alright?”

 

 

Notes:

I know this story isn't super popular, but I'd love to know if you're enjoying this!

Chapter 4

Summary:

ahh okay so this is the first ch devoid of smut, but I hope you enjoy!!

“We’re almost done, I promise,” Dickon said in her ear.

 

Her body sang at the words. Not because of him, but because of a memory of Jon. She didn’t even remember what the roles had been, but somehow it had involved him kissing every inch of her body, his large hands smoothing over the parts of her where his lips weren’t. Jon, she’d plead. We’re almost done, he’d said against her shoulder blade, his fingers stroking into her hair, I promise.

 

There was almost nothing that anyone could say to her these days that did not recall memories of being with Jon, his perfect body against hers, his smell, his gaze. She lost hours, literal hours thinking of him, aching for him, all of him. His company, most of all.

 

And tonight she could have had him, but here she was with Dickon Tarly’s arm around her waist as flashbulbs blinded her.

 

“Rita, you’re looking gorgeous,” he said to the reporter they were currently in front of. Lucy had also looked gorgeous. Tina was ravishing. Tim had clearly been working out. He was good at this. A credit to his father. The pretty smile and youthful ease that smoothed the uglier parts of his father’s agenda. Shh shh everyone, look at how strong my son is as I muscle you out of healthcare. He nudged her forward ever so slightly, “Do you know my lovely date, Myrcella Lannister Baratheon?”

 

Her middle name is Penelope, Jon would have said if he had been standing there. She merely smiled.

 

While her mother still went by her maiden name, she was strictly a Baratheon. The Lannister name meant more though, so Dickon had given it to every reporter they spoke to.

 

“Myrcella, of course, so lovely to see you again,” Rita said.

 

They had never met.

 

“It’s been ages!” she smiled back. “Everyone well?”

 

“You’re such a darling, all is well,” Rita told her, “This dress is to die for. A Tyrell?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled, “Olenna was kind enough to lend it to me for tonight.”

 

“So, can we take your being here as your family’s endorsement for Tarly?” Rita asked.

 

“You can take my being here as an endorsement of how this man here looks in a tuxedo,” she offered cheekily.

 

“So your grandfather has not backed him? There have been rumblings that he will…,” Rita pressed.

 

“You’ll know who my grandfather backed when you see them on the floor of the senate,” she shut her down, “Have a good evening.”

 

She could be inside right now. Laughing with Marg, rolling her eyes at Theon, staring adoringly at Jon. But no, she was out here, being asked question after question as though she was a spokesman for her grandfather.

 

Which, admittedly, she was. She had gotten those lines approved by him earlier that day. Even still.

 

The almost done meant that they spoke to no less than seven more reporters before they went inside. All of them asked if her grandfather was backing Randyll. All of them asked if she was dating Dickon. She wasn’t sure which question grated on her first.

 

“I’m just going to go freshen up,” she told Dickon when they were finally inside.

 

He was already waving to people, and nodded, “I’ll find you later.”

 

Feeling free she went into the bathroom. Girls and women were already in there. All in gowns and jewels. All talking about what a wonderful party it was.

 

She checked her make up, which she’d gotten professionally done because she had never quite gotten the hang of it. The guy who’d done it was true to his word and there wasn’t a bit out of place.

 

Taking a deep breath she went back outside, and headed towards the bar, knowing that’s where her friends would likely be.

 

The bartender a model/actor type with a soulless perfect smile came right over to her, “What can I get for you?”

 

“She’ll have a dry gin martini, and I’ll take a whiskey, thanks,” a deep voice said.

 

Just like that her skin was on fire. She gripped the counter.

 

“Hi,” she tried for an easy smile.

 

She turned towards him and her mouth went dry. He had worn his hair down as she suggested, and he’d trimmed his beard, his soft lips all but scowling. For all of his disdain for them, he was who designers imagined when they created tuxedos. His broad shoulders and trim waist, the onyx buttons of his shirt matching his eyes. He was so beautiful it was like a physical assault.

 

His forearm rested on the bar, his fingers inches from her arm. She could practically feel him, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to step into his space, feel the hard lines of his body against her. She wanted to feel his beard as he kissed her temple in that warm, comforting way of his.

 

“You finally escaped,” he noted instead of saying hello.

 

“Dickon had to walk the rope line,” she explained.

 

Jon nodded, “He did, you didn’t.”

 

“He wanted me to,” she told him.

 

He smirked, “Obviously.”

 

“You’re in a mood,” she realized.

 

Why was this man’s inability to put on a happy face such a fucking turn on?

 

“I’m not a fan of watching you be used,” he told her. “Introducing you like he invented you.”

 

And now he was in her space. His forearm had extended in front of her on the bar, his lips so close to her temple she could feel his breath against her.

 

She couldn’t defend Dickon. He had used her. She knew that he would. That was why she’d been so confused when Jon had spoken to her like this was a date. She knew what this was. Even still, Dickon was a pal. She had thrown him a bone. And yes, she’d wished she’d spent the last hour and a half differently but it was over and done with. There were so many better ways to spend the remainder of the evening than arguing about it.

 

“You look handsome,” she told him. The bartender placed their drinks down, “Thank you.”

 

They cheersed their glasses and each took sips before setting their drinks back down on the bar.

 

“Is there any point in telling you how beautiful you look?” he asked her, his eyes crinkling slightly, “Or have too many people done so and you’ve stopped believing it?”

 

She looked into his eyes and admitted, “I believe everything you say to me.”

 

His eyes widened slightly, nearly taking a step back from her. Good. She wanted to disarm him. He may be sexy when he was broody but she had no desire to discuss Dickon Tarly all night.

 

“You don’t need all this though,” he gestured to her face. Her cheeks flamed and then she felt his hand on her arm, “No, no, Ella, baby sorry I didn’t – you… it’s not… you look stunning. I just…”

 

“You just what?” she wondered.

 

“I just like you bare faced and barefoot in my apartment,” he said in her ear, his index finger stroking down her arm, “But don’t let me being grumpy about us not being there make you feel bad.”

 

“Don’t you like my dress at least?” she asked petulantly.

 

He chuckled in her ear, “Did you pick it out for me?”

 

“Jon,” she breathed.

 

“Tell me, El,” he urged, “When you put this on your body for the first time did you imagine me taking it off? Because it's all I can think about seeing you in it.”

 

Yes. Yes she fucking had.

 

Marg had invited her last weekend to her family’s showroom and she’d tried on a dozen frocks at least. As soon as she’d seen herself in this one though she’d imagined Jon seeing her in it.

 

He never seemed to crave her in anything overtly sexy, which wasn’t her thing anyway. It seemed to drive him most wild when she was at her most feminine, her most delicate. Honestly, her most her.

 

“Yes,” she admitted, and then noted, “But I’m regretting going through the trouble now.”

 

“Are you?” he asked.

 

“No,” she admitted again, “I wish I was though.”

 

He laughed then, a real one and pulled away from her slightly, “You’re feisty tonight.”

 

“Well I just spent for fucking ever dodging questions from reporters and I was cold the whole time and Dickon didn’t offer me his jacket because he was so busy showing me off and I knew that you all were in here having fun without me and then I come in here and I want you to be nice to me but you seem intent on disapproving of me instead,” she told him.

 

He looked at her for a moment and then grinned, “Feel better?”

 

She sighed and smiled, “Much, thank you.”

 

“Hi,” he said to her, his hand stroking her arm.

 

“Hi,” she breathed. “Are you happy to see me?”

 

“El,” he scoffed.

 

She grinned, “I bet you are. That’s why you’re so grouchy.”

 

“Then why do you even ask?” he asked her. She fluttered her eyelashes and he palmed her face, trying not to laugh, “Get out of here with those.”

 

“Is everyone else here?” she wondered.

 

“Somewhere around here,” he nodded, his eyes locked onto her.

 

As though it didn’t matter. As though no one else did.

 

She wanted that so badly to be true, but while she believed everything he said, she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t reading into his looks.

 

“Are you going to ask me to dance later?” she wondered.

 

“Doesn’t sound like me,” he mused.

 

She shrugged, “Then I guess I’ll just have to dance with Dickon all night.”

 

His eyes leveled her, “Are you sure you want to play this game?”

 

She blushed, “Well… I… had actually thought of one. Roles… I mean. That we could start here.”

 

He was silent for a moment and then nodded, “Oh yeah?”

 

She nodded, glancing around quickly and then said, “We could pretend that we’re having an affair. That no one knows about us…”

 

He looked at her, “So… what we’re doing.”

 

Oh. Shit.

 

Somehow she had not realized that when she was dreaming it up. All she could think of was a cover for the longing glances she would send his way all night, plus forbidden sex later on where he told her who she really belonged to.

 

She was even dumber than him thinking she’d want him to dress up like a murderous clown.

 

He watched her have this mental breakdown and he took pity on her and said, “Except different because we’d be pretending to have spouses.”

 

“Yes,” she nodded, “Totally different because we’d be pretending to have spouses.”

 

So very fucking different.

 

He swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing and nodded, “Yeah uh, that could be good.”

 

He really was a good old chap.

 

“Great,” she squeaked. His eyebrows quirked. She tried to take a sip of her martini. It dribbled. “I’m doing great.”

 

He laughed at her, swiping her face with his thumb and raised it to his lips, his eyes on hers. He hated gin. He told her it was like running through a forest with his mouth open. He didn’t look like he minded the taste now.

 

“We probably shouldn’t be talking to each other,” he told her.

 

She took a small sip of her martini, keeping it entirely in her mouth this time like a damn champion and nodded.

 

“No,” she agreed, “My husband wouldn’t like it… he’s never trusted you.”

 

“Then he’s not as much of an idiot as he seems,” Jon reasoned easily. He glanced behind her and his jaw set in annoyance and he said, “I’ll leave you to it.” She missed him already, but as he went to leave he turned back and said in her ear, his fingers ghosting at her waist, “Oh and Ella, baby… if your intention was to torture me all night, you chose the right fucking dress.” With a gentle squeeze to her waist that made her knees buckle, he pulled away from her, “Dickon.”

 

“Jon,” Dickon said, and then it was his forearm in front of her on the bar, his large form behind her, “Good to see you mate.”

 

“Sure,” Jon nodded then bid her farewell, “Myrcella Penelope.”

 

That was really for Dickon so she rolled her eyes at him and turned around, realizing a half moment too late that he wasn’t just speaking generally when he said he didn’t like to watch her be used. He had seen it, heard it.

 

“Sorry, I got caught up,” Dickon told her.

 

“That’s alright,” she noted. “Baby’s to kiss and all that.”

 

“I wish. It was actually the asses of old men,” Dickon grimaced.

 

She giggled, “Tasty.”

 

He grinned and then looked sheepish, “Myrcella, I have… a question for you.”

 

“As long as it is not who my grandfather is endorsing…” she teased.

 

He chuckled, “No no. It’s… are you on good terms with Trystane’s family?”

 

“Very good terms,” she told him.

 

Dickon sighed, “We somehow got Oberyn here but he’s making a big show of not speaking to us.”

 

She laughed, “Sounds like him. Do you want me to make an introduction?”

 

“You’re an angel,” he told her.

 

“He’s not,” she smirked, “Where is he?”

 

Dickon pointed across the room and then offered his arm. She had no interest in rallying the Martells to the Tarly’s side but she loved Oberyn. She’d dated his nephew in college, and though they’d sort of fizzled when they got to the get serious or break up stage, they’d stayed friends. Just last summer she’d gone and stayed with them for a little while when she was on an extended business trip in Sunspear.

 

They got waylaid on the way over, but they spotted Oberyn in the middle of a group of people, all of them hanging on his every word.

 

There was no sneaking up on him though, and he caught sight of her as he walked over. He held his arms wide to her and as though he had them on a string the circle around him parted.

 

“Finally,” he said, “A sight worth coming to this putrid city for.”

 

She smiled and released Dickon, stepping closer to him, “You never change.”

 

“And who would want me to?” he asked. He then took her cheeks lightly in both hands, kissing each cheek bone, “You on the other hand grow lovelier by the moment, my darling Myrcella.”

 

“You certainly do,” Ellaria embraced her next. The pair were so bewitching to stand in front of, but they both were looking at her curiously. Ellaria then gestured to those around them, “Excuse us.” As everyone walked away, Ellaria asked Oberyn, “Do you see it?”

 

“Who could miss it?” Oberyn asked. She blushed and Oberyn’s eyes narrowed at Dickon and then back at her, “Not him.”

 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, then brought Dickon forward, “This is my dear friend Dickon Tarly.”

 

“Oh yes,” Oberyn noted, “The son of the man who is trying to make it harder for the children of my city to have food in their bellies and roofs over their heads.”

 

“My father’s plan-“

 

“Your father’s plan is to strip the rights of every single person in this country who does not look like or agree with him,” Ellaria noted, “Excuse us, please.”

 

She cringed and looked at Dickon, but he was already looking towards the next person. He would be a good politician. Nothing got him in his soul.

 

“Well,” he smiled, clapping Oberyn on the arm likely in case there were any photographers about, “Enjoy the party anyway. Myrcella, come find me.”

 

As soon as he left, the pair of them set upon her.

 

“So tell us,” Ellaria urged.

 

“Tell you what?” she asked.

 

It was a trick her Uncle Tyrion had taught her. Never do someone’s work for them. If they were going to ask you to do something outside of your best interest they should have to say it, you didn’t need to fill in the blanks. Sometimes it even deterred them.

 

That was all well and good for anyone apart from a Martell.

 

“Tell us who is making you look so…,” Oberyn shook his head, his gaze wandering over her nearly hungrily.

 

“Freshly fucked,” Ellaria finished for him. “And fucked well.”

 

“Guys!” she protested, cupping her cheeks in her hands. Then wondered, “Do you think everyone can tell?”

 

They shrugged as though it didn’t much matter. She glanced around the room, searching for Jon. Not that she’d tell them who it was but just wanting to see him. She caught sight of him standing with Gendry and Elinor. Her breath caught as he glanced at her and then she kept her eyes moving.

 

“He’s lovely,” Ellaria noted, too quick for her.

 

“This party however…,” Oberyn shrugged.

 

She laughed and said goodbye to them and then moved through the party. Sam was there, though his girlfriend Gilly wasn’t. His father didn’t approve of her, and though Sam had stuck up for her on a number of occasions, at a certain point he wanted to stop putting her through it.

 

She spoke to him for a little while and then saw Marg and Theon who had come together. They looked like they were half a second away from either murdering or fucking one another and she had no interest in being near them when they decided.

 

On her way to Dickon, she was intercepted by Elinor.

 

“Oh I’m so happy to see you,” she told her friend.

 

Elinor hugged her, “Ugh you’re telling me. Walder Frey just spoke to me.”

 

“Noooo,” she rubbed her back, “Where is that old pervert?”

 

“Icing his pride probably,” Elinor noted and she giggled.

 

They pulled away from each other but Elinor looped her arm through hers and they started walking through the party.

 

“I’m surprised Gendry let him anywhere near you,” she told her.

 

Elinor rolled her eyes, “He was in the bathroom… in my hour of need!”

 

She giggled, “How dare. Where is he now?”

 

“Hiding from me so I don’t make him dance, you know, it’s like… why does he even want to come with me if he’s going to be such a stuck in the mud?” Elinor asked.

 

“Don’t fish,” she chided.

 

Elinor grinned and shrugged, “Can’t help it. And he does look good in a tux, I’ll give him that. Sorry, is that weird for you to hear?” She shrugged because she was sort of used to it. Then Elinor leaned in, “Do you know who is looking really good tonight? Jon Snow.”

 

Her stomach clenched but she tried for lightness and turned towards Elinor, making a fist and holding it towards her mouth like a microphone, “This just in! Gorgeous man looks gorgeous.”

 

Elinor laughed and then looked behind her, “I think he thinks I look good too.”

 

Um, he better not.

 

That was unfair. Of course, he should think Elinor looked good. Elinor was beautiful and she was one of their closest friends.

 

“Oh, no,” Elinor said, “He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at you.” She was about to protest when Elinor said, “Staring at you more like.”

 

She felt her cheeks flame and all she wanted to do was look at him, but she was afraid to. If he was really looking at her she might combust on the spot.

 

“I’m sure he’s just staring off into space,” she shrugged.

 

“Uh, no, he’s looking at you like he’s going to eat you,” Elinor told her. God, I hope so. Elinor then looked at her. She shook her head but Elinor’s eyes were already widening, “No.”

 

“No,” she repeated.

 

“Oh my god you two are sleeping together!” Elinor accused.

 

“Shhhhh,” she ordered, “Don’t look at him.”

 

“Honey he can’t even see me,” Elinor told her. “Watch this.”

 

She turned and watched as Elinor waved at Jon. He didn’t even register it. He was pretending like he wasn’t, but he was staring at her as he stood with Sam. She wet her lips and he all but snarled.

 

He was so good at this.

 

“You and Jon,” Elinor sighed dreamily, “How perfect. You’re the only person who makes him smile.”

 

“Wait, shush, please, no one knows,” she told her. Though that wasn’t entirely true. Somehow in the span of an hour she had let three people into their secret. Jon would be so thrilled. Ooh, she thought, maybe he’ll punish me. No don’t think about that now. She shook her head, “And it’s not even… it’s… we aren’t like… together or anything. And that’s not true.”

 

“Well, maybe not the only person,” Elinor agreed, “But more than anyone else. You’re like his little sunshine baby – oh my god that’s why he called you baby! What a dumbass.”

 

She laughed, “He… he calls me that sometimes but… we aren’t…”

 

“Official?” Elinor asked. She nodded. “Who needs the talk when he looks at you like that? Oh – no shit get away from him, you beautiful demon.”

 

She looked at who Elinor was talking about and her heart sank. Oberyn hadn’t been the only Martell at this party. His niece, Trystane’s older sister, Arianne was here too. She and Jon were speaking, and he proved her right because he was certainly smiling now.

 

Arianne looked lethal. There was no other word for it. She was her exact opposite. Her dress was cut practically down to her belly button, gorgeous hair piled up on her head, every gesture enticed you and she hardly even tried. Bile rose in her throat as she watched Arianne press her hand to Jon’s chest as she laughed, as though he was just so funny.

 

He was so funny, she’d always thought so. No one else seemed to, though.

 

But Arianne did. And she was no demon. She was a goddess. In truth she adored her, or she had anyway, until this very moment.

 

“They look good together,” she realized, her heart sinking.

 

“No, they look horrible together,” Elinor told her loyally.

 

“No, they don’t,” she said as Jon nodded at whatever it was Arianne was saying.

 

Men loved to agree with her.

 

“Oh honey,” Elinor pulled her towards her, “How didn’t we see this? You’ve got it so bad.”

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Can we… can we not talk about it? I don’t want to get upset. Are they still talking?” Elinor nodded and stroked her cheek, “But it doesn’t matter.”

 

Elinor didn’t think any boy mattered. But Jon did. She nodded anyway.

 

“Smile,” Elinor ordered. She glanced at her and Elinor laughed, “Smile, now. They are looking at you.”

 

She laughed, “Still?” Ellinor nodded. “Fuck me.”

 

“Well here’s someone who would like to,” Elinor noted, then cheered, “Dickon, looking dapper as always!”

 

“Elinor, looking exquisite as usual,” Dickon returned. “I was hoping you’d let me steal my date for a dance.”

 

“Oh yes, give her a spin,” Elinor urged, “She won’t even step on your toes.”

 

She glanced at Dickon and noted, “She does my PR.”

 

He chuckled more than she deserved and took her hand and let her out onto the dance floor. The string quartet was a little heavy handed for the event, but the song they were playing was beautiful and Dickon led her easily in a waltz.

 

Like her, he had attended lessons as a kid, so he could do it blindfolded. Or, in this case, while he was smiling at half the room.

 

She kept a smile on her face, looking up at his shoulder. She didn’t want to look around, knowing where her gaze would lead. Though it was part of the game, to have lovelorn glances thrown at Jon, she didn’t want to see him with Arianne.

 

She knew that she was being crazy, but it was impossible not to be jealous. She wasn’t usually the type, but she had all of these feelings for him and no real claim on him. He was free to do whatever he wanted. She just hadn’t had to see him do it. As far as she knew, he hadn’t hooked up with anyone else since they started. She didn’t think that he would. They were together so often. They didn’t use condoms. They’d never spoken about it, but she’d sort of just assumed.

 

It was worse than that though. Because it wasn’t just that she didn’t want Jon not to sleep with Arianne. She didn’t want him to want to. Which was an impossible ask. She wasn’t sure that she’d turn her down if propositioned, how was he supposed to?

 

“I’m sorry,” Dickon said, and she realized she was frowning. “I can be a much better date.”

 

“Oh, that’s alright,” she told him, not bothering to pretend like he was being a good one. It didn’t much matter. She was being a dreadful one. “I know you have to work.”

 

“Some other time, though,” Dickon mused. “I could… show you.”

 

“Oh…,” she started.

 

But then the song stopped and Dickon squeezed her arm and said, “Think about it,” as though they’d just been talking about an agenda point and then nodded at someone else and headed towards them.

 

She was walking off the dancefloor when she felt a hand take hold of hers and spin her back around.

 

Without even looking up she knew it was him. His clean, masculine smell, his little onyx buttons, the feel of his hand surrounding hers.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked as she looked up at him.

 

 His eyes crinkled as he smirked at her, “Dancing with you.”

 

One of his hands was holding hers to his chest. The other was wrapped around her back, gripping her waist.

 

“You hate dancing,” she said stupidly. He knew that.

 

He pulled her closer and she wanted to lean her cheek against his solid chest, hear the comforting beat of his heart.

 

“You want to know what I hate?” he asked in her ear. His voice was sharp gravel, grating on her bones, tearing her up. “I hate watching you walk around on his arm, like you belong to him. Watching him show you off as though he’s earned the smile you fake for him.”

 

Oh. Right. The game.

 

She wondered if he realized how close it was to what he’d told her earlier in earnest.

 

Well. If he could do it, so could she.

 

“Do you think it’s easy for me seeing you with her?” she wondered. She looked up at him, looking into his beautiful charcoal eyes, “Laughing with that beautiful woman?”

 

And then his jaw was at her temple. She closed her eyes at the feel of him, gripping his shoulder.

 

“She doesn’t matter, no one except you matters, you know that,” he told her.

 

“You shouldn’t hold me so close,” she told him.

 

It was part of it, but not. Because it was the sort of thing she imagined a married woman would say, but it was also something a desperate one would.

 

And she was hanging by a thread.

 

Didn’t he see that? Elinor had, so had Oberyn and Ellaria. He knew her better than any of them.

 

“Don’t try to push me away,” he ordered, “Or I swear, baby, I will take you right here, right now in front of everyone.” She gasped, pulling away from him and looking up without thinking of it. His eyes were molten and his smirk was cocky and she was a puddle and he knew it. “And we both know you’d let me.”

 

She felt her knees buckle for real this time, but he caught her, holding her steady.

 

It was true. She would probably let him if he really tried. He could do anything to her. And they both knew it. It was horrifying and intoxicating.

 

His lips were back at her temple, “You’re wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?” She gasped and squeezed him in warning. He didn’t heed it. “Be a good girl and tell me.”

 

“Yes,” she whimpered.

 

He groaned and then chuckled against her, “They wouldn’t believe their eyes. Their precious golden girl down on her knees for me. That’s where they all want you, but only I get you. Isn’t that right?”

 

“Jon please,” she said.

 

“You’ll say that again later,” he promised. “Don’t go home with him. Don’t even let him kiss you goodnight. Make up some excuse and come to our spot.”

 

She gulped and nodded against him.

 

The song was ending and she held him tighter.

 

He squeezed her gently and said, “Oh, and baby? I don’t hate anything that lets me hold you in my arms where you belong.”

Notes:

the next ch is going to be from Myrcella's POV also, and is almost written!

Chapter 5

Summary:

Oh my god I loved the reactions to the last ch!! It made me so eager to finish this one up!

This takes place later that night, and is once again from Ella's POV.

The rest of the night went by in a haze. She laughed, she smiled, but she wasn’t there, not really.

 

It felt as though she spoke to everyone except for the person she really wanted to. She could have called it, she knew. If she’d gone to him and told him it was too much he would have stopped without question. He would have made her laugh and talked to her about something real or something silly. If she’d asked he would have taken her home, to his or to hers. He would have made her a grilled cheese and let her put on some old movie and just hung out with her. She’d almost gone to him half a dozen times to ask for just that, but then she’d catch sight of him or feel his eyes on her and she had changed her mind.

 

She had nearly done it though when their dance ended. She had wanted to shout Theon as he released her. It was their safe word. She’d suggested it as a joke because she was certain she’d never need it with him. But she did. This was too much. He was too much, too good at this. It felt too real, too good, too right.

 

And she was powerless against him, so even though it was confusing and probably terrible for her heart, she had said goodnight to Dickon fifteen minutes earlier and taken the car he’d gotten for the evening to Jon’s. She could commit to the bit, too.

 

His doorman waved her up, having long stopped calling Jon to let him know she was there. She wondered what he thought of her, but only absently.

 

She knocked on his door and it opened nearly immediately. He’d taken his tuxedo jacket off, and his shoes, but was still wearing the shirt and tie and pants.

 

There was no look that was a bad one for him, but she loved this. Him, at the end of a night.

 

She wanted to end all her nights with him. Brush her teeth next to him. Have him draw her legs into his lap as they spoke about the night. She wanted his sighs in the back of taxis, his relief that it was just them. The next morning, milky coffee and tired smiles and let’s just stay in tonight.

 

And yes, she wanted this too. She wanted all of it, all of him.

 

“I got away as quickly as I could,” she told him. He nodded but said nothing. “I came all this way and you’re not even going to speak to me?”

 

“You’re not here to talk,” he said, anger in his voice.

 

“You didn’t ask me here to talk,” she said, sadness in hers.

 

“No,” he agreed, “I didn’t.”

 

And then his hands were on her cheeks and he kissed her so forcefully she fell back against the door. He nipped and licked and she moaned and whimpered. Her legs were liquid but it didn’t much matter because he was holding her up, pinning her.

 

He held her head to the door, his thumb trailing her lips as he pulled away from her.

 

“Did he fuck you?” he asked her.

 

“No!” she protested.

 

He snarled, “Did he kiss you?”

 

“No,” she tried to shake her head but he had her locked in place.

 

“Why not?” he asked her.

 

“You… you told me not to, I didn’t want to,” she told him. Both were true. “It… it makes me sick when anyone else touches me. I only want you.”

 

That was true, too.

 

His eyes softened and he pressed his lips to her temple as she’d been craving all night. They traveled to her forehead and the other side.

 

“I know, I know baby,” he told her. “Show me everywhere he touched you.”

 

“W-what?” she asked.

 

He looked in her eyes, “Show me everywhere he touched you. Every single spot.”

 

“Here,” she held up her hand, “He held my hand.”

 

He took hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth, his nose nuzzling her palm, “Here?”

 

She nodded and he bared his teeth and then bit it. She felt a jolt right to her center, and realized she was wet already. His lips smoothed over where his teeth had just been and she could feel her breath coming in shallow spurts.

 

“Where else?” he asked her.

 

She thought about the night and pointed to her upper arm, “He squeezed me here.”

 

He shook his head and then lowered it, sucking a bloom on her arm. He didn’t stop though, and she was sure she’d have a hickey.

 

He was marking her.

 

“Where next?” he asked.

 

“My ear,” she pointed to her right one, “The shell of it.”

 

He looked at her, “Why?”

 

“He… he brushed a lock of hair behind it,” she told him.

 

It had felt so strange when Dickon did it. Too intimate, given that it was really just a spectacle. It hadn’t felt natural, like he was doing something he thought he should. Nothing ever felt like that with Jon.

 

He growled but his lips were gentle, so gentle and teasing against the shell of her ear that she shuddered, her eyes closing, her hand gripping his bicep.

 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asked softly in her ear.

 

She nodded, leaning into his voice, “It’s like you’re erasing him.”

 

His hand cupped her cheek then, “I am, I’m going to, you’ll see.”

 

“My waist,” she told him. “He touched my waist. A lot.”

 

“Turn around for me,” he said.

 

She did as he said, and then he was brushing her hair off her back, pushing it so that it fell over one shoulder. His hands undid the zipper of her gown, and then let it pool at the floor. She stepped out of it, nudging it with her foot, that were still in her heels.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned.

 

She couldn’t help but smile, facing the wall where he couldn’t see it. The dress was strapless and since her breasts weren’t really capable of holding a strapless bra up she’d essentially worn a corset underneath, and little silk underwear shorts. Both in pure, pristine white.

 

That was the reaction she’d been hoping for when she got dressed earlier.

 

His hands went up the outside of her thighs, underneath the shorts, until he was holding her hips.

 

“He didn’t touch me there,” she told him.

 

His fingers moved towards her center, his lips against the back of her neck, “What about here?”

 

“N-no,” she trembled, her legs parting for him automatically.

 

“I’m not going to rip these,” he told her, “Because this is how I want you dressed the next time you take my cock in your mouth, is that clear?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded eagerly, pressing her butt back against him and finding him hard. She grinded into him and he groaned. “I could do that for you now…”

 

He chuckled against her back, “My eager, good girl. Step out of your heels for me.”

 

She did as he asked and he kissed her hair, his fingers going to the buttons at her back. He released them one by one, and then pulled the corset off her entirely, tossing it to the ground.

 

“Tell me again where he touched you,” he said.

 

“My waist,” she said, “And the small of my back.”

 

“He couldn’t keep his hands off you, could he?” he seethed.

 

And then she felt him kneel down behind her, his lips and tongue and teeth moving from one side of her waist to the other.

 

“He didn’t touch your ass, did he?” he asked her.

 

“No,” she whimpered.

 

“Too bad,” he said, his hand smoothing over it and then spanking it lightly, “I have more than one way I’d like to mark you there.”

 

“Fuck Jon,” she cried out, her knees buckling.

 

“Some other time,” he mumbled against one of her butt cheeks. He stood up and pulled her underwear shorts down in one fluid motion. “Put your hands here on the wall.”

 

She placed her hands together, her palms flat against the wall above her. She loved being naked when he was fully clothed. There was something so horribly naughty about it, like she was his to do whatever he pleased with. Which was true.

 

He took her wrists in her hands and turned them towards one another, so they were palm to palm, and then she saw that he was holding his bowtie in the other hand.

 

“Oh my god,” she cried. She loved it when he tied her up.

 

He secured the bowtie tightly around her.

 

“Keep your hands against the wall,” he told her. “And- fuck, yes, Ella, baby, I love when you do that.”

 

She was glad because she couldn’t help it. As soon as his hand was placed to the center of her back, she was arching it for him.

 

“Stay just like that,” he ordered.

 

She could hear him undressing behind her. He did it slowly. She wished she could see him. She wished he would touch her. She wished he’d never stop torturing her.

 

“Jon,” she whimpered.

 

“I know what you need,” he told her and then she heard him rubbing himself. She cried out and he groaned, “I should make him come here and see you like this. Then he’d know who you really belong to, wouldn’t he?”

 

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, and she was so wet that she felt herself dripping down her thighs.

 

He clearly saw it too because his fingers went to her and he hissed, but then he pulled them off her and started stroking himself harder, likely coated in her.

 

“I should make you stay like this while I cover where he touched your back in my come,” he said, his voice low and dizzying, “Give you a little taste of what it’s like to not be able to have what you want.”

 

“Please, please don’t,” she cried, “Please fuck me, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you want. I need you, please.”

 

“That’s the problem, baby,” he said, his hand on her hip, and then he shoved inside of her. She cried out in pleasured pain. “This is the fucking problem. I need you, too. This perfect cunt of yours is all my cock wants. Every second of every day.”

 

He was thrusting into her hard and rough and it wasn’t enough, nothing would be.

 

“It’s yours, you can have it always,” she admitted.

 

He groaned and then one of his hands was around her wrists, the other on her throat. He tilted her head back, far back so that she was looking up at him and he down at her.

 

“It doesn’t feel like that,” he told her, fucking her harder, squeezing her throat gently, “It feels like I get you in little bits. And I want. It. All.”

 

A wave of pleasure overtook her, her mouth falling open, fighting to keep her eyes open so she could watch him watch her come. He leaned down and kissed her and then he was groaning into her mouth as she felt him pulse inside of her.

 

He held her to him as he came, a deep sound of pleasure coming again and again.

 

When he stilled, he released her throat, kissing her temple. One of his hands went to her waist, pulling her so that she was standing up straight. The other still held her wrists, but he brought them against her chest. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her gently.

 

“You did so good,” he told her.

 

She hadn’t done anything but she said, “Thank you.”

 

“How do you feel?” he asked her, his hands smoothing over her body.

 

“Is that a trick question?” she wondered.

 

He chuckled against her, “No, baby, tell me. How are you doing? Do you need to take a break? Do you need some water?”

 

Her eyes closed, giving herself up to his gentle care.

 

“I feel amazing,” she told him honestly, “I don’t want to take a break.”

 

“Okay, okay, just a minute though,” he said, “Just take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

 

She nodded against his jaw and sunk back against him. She took calm, steadying breaths and felt him do the same thing behind her, around her. This was what she wanted, him and her, just them.

 

“Jon,” she said, “I want… um… I don’t know how to say it.”

 

“Try, El,” he urged, “I’ll give you anything.”

 

She felt tears in her eyes but she blinked them away.

 

“I want to be in that place with you again,” she told him, “I know it’s… I know it overwhelmed me the first time but… I want to be there with you.”

 

“Are you sure?” he asked her. She nodded. He was silent for a long moment but then said, “Okay, let’s go talk about it.”

 

He turned her around and brought her into his living room. He sat down in his armchair and pulled her into his lap.

 

She tucked her feet up and leaned against his shoulder.

 

His fingers went underneath her chin and tilted her face up to him. His lips were soft and warm and comforting as they pressed to hers. She kissed him back, her body curling into his.

 

“I read a bit about it, after last time,” he told her.

 

It was surprising that there was anything written about it, because she was fairly certain no one had ever experienced what she had that night.

 

“You did?” she asked though.

 

He nodded and she kissed him again, because he wasn’t just somebody who said he was going to take care of her, he actually did it.

 

He stroked her hair, looking at her with warm charcoal eyes and he explained, “If you get to that place, you won’t be able to tell me to stop.” He shook his head, “Not that I – if you asked me to I would, but what I mean is you won’t be able to ask me because you won’t um… really be able to make decisions necessarily.”

 

She knew that. When she went into that space he was in control of her entirely.

 

“But I’ll be paying attention to you every second,” he promised, “And if it feels like it’s going too far I will stop it. But you need to know that it will likely need to be my decision and decide whether you’re comfortable with that.”

 

“I am,” she told him, realizing that it was him who needed to be comfortable, not her. “But if you don’t want that, if it’s too much for you, then I won’t ask you to do it.”

 

“I do want it,” he told her, and shook his head, “I just need you to know that…” he cupped her cheek, his forehead against hers, “You’re so important to me, and I will never let anything happen to you. I care about you so much, Ella, and I want you to take that in with you, and know that I’ll bring you back.”

 

I’m in love with him.

 

It didn’t even surprise her, really, though the realization came suddenly enough. Of course she was in love with him. It was the only thing that made any sense at all.

 

“I trust you more than anyone,” she told him though, instead. “And I want to give myself over to you entirely for as long as you want me.”

 

“God, Ella, baby,” he whimpered and kissed her deeply.

 

He stood up, cradling her in his arms and brought her into his bedroom. He laid her on the bed and then turned on his bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft, muted light.

 

“Put your arms up for me,” he urged her.

 

She raised her arms above her head on the pillow. He opened his bedside table and pulled out a tie they’d used before, and a bottle of something.

 

Rather than tie her wrists more, he hooked it between them, around the bowtie itself, and then tied it to one of the bars of his headboard.

 

“Does that have a little give?” he asked her, “I want it to stop you but I don’t want it to hurt you if you try to move.”

 

She tested it and nodded, “It feels good.”

 

“I’m going to fuck you again,” he told her, “But not for a while. I’m going to decide when it’s time, but you can ask me for anything else, okay?”

 

She nodded, “Will you kiss me?”

 

His eyes crinkled and he leaned over her and kissed her tenderly, sucking on her bottom lip.

 

“Anytime you want,” he promised. And then kissed her again.

 

He sat up then, on the bed next to her, his fingers trailing over her stomach, up between her breasts, tracing along her jaw.

 

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked her. His eyes wandered over every part of her face, around her body, lingering over parts where she couldn’t touch without remembering him touching them too. “It’s hard to believe you’re even real, let alone in my bed. That I get to touch you,” he said, his fingers ghosting over her ribs. She was covered in goosebumps and her skin was on fire. “That I get to decide how and when you come.” She whimpered and his eyes looked into hers, “That you look at me like that.”

 

With love, she wanted to say, That’s what you’re seeing in my eyes.

 

But he was already going on, his eyes trailing her body, “I spend a lot of time thinking about it. How to make you come.” He leaned down and kissed her breastbone, nuzzling against her, his beard scratching against her breasts in a way that made her pull at the ties, clenching her legs. “I have my favorites. But we’re going to find a new way tonight. Would you like me to tell you what that is?”

 

“Yes,” she said desperately.

 

He lifted off her so that his face was hovering over hers, “I’m not going to touch that precious cunt at all, just your breasts.”

 

She gasped and then a wave of worry washed over her, “But what if I can’t? I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

His face crumbled and he kissed her lips, stroking her hair, “You can, and you will. Do you want to know how I know?” She nodded, and he looked deep into her eyes and she felt the world go blurry at the edges, “Because I’m going to make you. So you just relax, baby, alright? You’re perfect, you could never disappoint me. All I want you to do is feel what I’m doing to you.”

 

“Okay,” she agreed.

 

He kissed her again slowly, and she leaned up, into him, as much as she could.

 

She wondered if he knew how rare he was. To have a girl in his bed, who he could do anything to, and choose tenderness like this.

 

“Keep your eyes on me as much as you can,” he told her, lowering her back down to the bed.

 

As though she’d want to look elsewhere.

 

He got up on his knees and reached for the bottle on the night stand and then straddled her, resting on his calves hovering over her. Her eyes wandered all over him, his strong thighs, his cock that was still wet from her, the muscled torso and broad chest, his black curls kissing his shoulders, the focused set of his eyes, his mouth that was so often in a pout, unless he was looking at her.

 

She watched as he poured some oil on his hands and then rubbed them together. Her arms were up, raising her shoulders. His hands smoothed over them, gliding over her skin. The oil was warm, making her shiver. He gripped her shoulders, his fingers undulating against her skin and then moved them further down her back, pressing harder against it as he moved back up.

 

“Oh,” she breathed.

 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he told her.

 

She hadn’t realized she had closed them and gave him a sheepish, “Sorry.”

 

His eyes crinkled at her and he gripped one shoulder and then massaged the back of her neck. She let out a whine of pleasure and Jon nodded at her as though she was doing exactly right.

 

It was difficult to keep her eyes on him as they were rolling into the back of her head as his hands moved in sure, lulling rhythms over her back and shoulders.

 

He moved his hand to the side of her neck and hit some spot that had her ooh in pain and then giggle in pleasure.

 

“Oh,” she smiled.

 

He chuckled at her, and moved immediately to the same spot on the other side. The same reaction but stronger, and Jon leaned down and caught it on his lips. He kissed her until she stopped giggling, until she stopped thinking. All the while his hands were moving all over her neck and back and arms.

 

She was liquid, entirely.

 

His eyes stayed on hers as he grabbed the oil. This time he squirted it directly onto her stomach. Her mouth fell open and her hips rose, surprised by the sensation. Hands on her stomach, on her ribs, up her side, underneath her back, to her butt and then up again.

 

Hands, eyes, hands, eyes, hands, eyes. Him, him, him.

 

They kept coming nearer. The whisper of his pink against the underside of her breast. His hands rubbing her ribs would ghost against the side, his thumb kneading at her breastbone.

 

Every whimper, every sigh, every gasp was met with his thoughtful nod, as though she was doing everything she ought to be. As though she was doing anything at all.

 

When his hands cupped her breasts she cried out.

 

They continued on their exploration and she cried out again, desperate for him. His thumbs worked at her jaw, and then took her earlobes in between his fingers and pulled on them gently. And then they were back, ghosting against the sides of her breasts. Her hips thrust upwards again as he traced around her nipples.

 

She was crying, begging, and he was soothing, pacifying.

 

He squeezed her breasts and she felt warmth pooling but then it was more than that. It was heat. Sparking wildfire.

 

His thumbs and forefingers closed around her nipples, pulling, twisting, teasing. Gentle and patient, coaxing.

 

All the while his eyes were on her and hers were on him.

 

There was no one thing that did it. She was writhing and panting and entirely his and then all at once everything exploded.

 

His lips fell open as though he was the one in pleasure, as though he was feeling it too.

 

All she could say was, “Please.”

 

But it was enough. And then he was moving down her, and inside of her, and everything was gentle, and warm, and lovely, and he was so close, but not close enough. He was saying things, wonderful things, and she couldn’t say anything at all.

 

This time when the pleasure overtook her, he came along with her, and everything went black and shimmering all at once.

 

She felt his lips at her temple, his hand on her cheek.

 

“So good, baby,” he was saying, “You did so good, El, that’s my beautiful girl.”

 

She felt him untie her wrists and she cried out as she went to bring them down.

 

“Slow, slow, that’s it,” he urged, rubbing her wrists and bringing them to his lips.

 

When she could do anything, she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in it. She felt his hands on her back, in her hair.

 

“Shhh shh that’s right, you’re alright,” he promised. “Stay right here –“

 

“No,” she held him tighter.

 

“I’m just going to get you a sweatshirt,” he told her.

 

“I don’t want one, please, not yet, not now,” she argued.

 

He was silent for a moment, his lips kissing arm, “We’re done for tonight, baby.”

 

“I know, I know,” she promised, “But I just…,” she moved her arms so they were wrapped around his back, hugging him to her, “I just need to feel your body against mine, is that okay?”

 

He hugged her more firmly, “Yeah baby, that’s okay. You feel so perfect in my arms, just like I told you, it’s where you belong.”

 

And he was adjusting her as he was talking, intertwining their legs the way she liked. But his was between hers, and the movement pressed her center to him and –

 

“Oh, god Jon what’s- mmm,” she was crying now as she felt an aftershock, something she’d never had before.

 

He looked at her, his breath coming out in ragged spurts, holding her as her body lost control entirely.

 

“Jon I can’t,” she told him.

 

She had no idea what she couldn’t do. She didn’t know if she meant that she couldn’t come again, or if she meant that she couldn’t continue on like this, or if she just couldn’t understand how he was able to make her feel so unlike anything she’d ever known.

 

But it didn’t matter. Because he was holding her tightly, and telling her that it was alright, that he was here, that he would take care of her, that she was important, that she was lovely, that she was his.

 

And she fell into a deep sleep, and dreamt it was all true.

Notes:

Next chapter we are back to Jon's POV!

Chapter 6

 

He hated everyone who wasn’t Ella, and he was surrounded by so many of them.

 

“Should we get closer to the front?” Gendry asked.

 

“Whatever,” he said.

 

It was vaguely offensive that Gendry wasn’t offended by his snarly, one word answers. He knew people thought he was broody, but he was sort of being a dick.

 

He couldn’t really help it though. He’d been on edge all day. Longer than that, actually.

 

He’d made a decision two nights prior, when Ella was in his arms after their third time.

 

I’m going to want you again shortly. Is that alright? She’d asked in that soft, sweet voice of hers.

 

It had been him who’d started it again. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. She’d given him the greenlight that they weren’t finished and he’d rushed them forwards because he couldn’t resist doing so.

 

She’d been on top and when they were done he pulled her down onto him, where she’d stayed the whole night. Her fingers were stroking his arm and his were stroking her hair and she’d told him something sleepily, giggling into his neck and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

I’m in love with her.

 

That was all he could think of for the rest of the night. He’d stayed up long after she’d fallen asleep, feeling her body against his, her head tucked under his, the way she somehow continued stroking his arm even after she’d gone to sleep.

 

It shouldn’t have caught him by surprise. He knew that he was infatuated with her. And he’d loved her as a friend for a decade. She’d been the girl of his dreams for nearly as long. So really, it was kind of obvious that he would. But the sheer swell of it caught him off guard.

 

As he lay there, he thought of her lying there on top of him. And he realized that he could make her love him too. She did love him as a friend already. She showed him all the time. The last birthday card she’d given him had been signed love you madly, Ella. He still had it somewhere in his office. And she was attracted to him to a nearly unhealthy degree.

 

So he determined that with those raw materials he could convince her to fall in love with him.

 

It wasn’t that he wanted to trick her or anything, just that he wanted to help her see him in a different light. So he’d worn his hair the way she’d suggested and showed up ready to steal her attention from Dickon at the fundraiser, only to see her caught in a rope line with his paws all over her hoping some of her shine would reflect on him. He’d gone inside and found their friends and everyone else had rolled their eyes when he’d mentioned it and that had only made him more annoyed.

 

So then he’d been a dick when he first saw her, which was sort of the exact opposite to how he wanted to interact with her. She was so easy to be kind to, he usually didn’t have to try, but he was so pissed. That had riled her up which though he loved her sweetness he always actually liked to see. And then they’d finally gotten to an okay place and she’d suggested the roles she’d thought up.

 

You’re right there, baby! he’d wanted to shout at her. Just come a little closer. But she’d seemed so flustered when he’d tried to point that out that he had found himself smoothing it over for her rather than pushing her on it. He couldn’t help it though, he wanted to protect her from everything.

 

So then he was annoyed with himself, because rather than say hey, Ella, baby, don’t you think it means something that your fantasy is our reality? he had committed them to it.

 

Admittedly, that was freeing. It allowed him to say and do every single thing he wanted to under the guise of pretend. It had been therapeutic, almost, which was probably pretty fucked up.

 

The plan was still the plan, but he’d just put it off for a night.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Because then she’d told him she wanted to go there, to that place. That she wanted him to take her there. That she wanted to give herself to him. And all of his impatience and annoyance dissipated entirely, every single bit of his energy going to loving her.

 

It was indescribable, what it felt like getting her there. He would have touched her for hours, days, but it had happened in minutes.

 

It was unbelievable, the power that he had over her. The way she eagerly gave it to him. Her trust meant everything to him.

 

So when they were done and she was back in his arms he’d held back. He had to bite his tongue from telling her that he was in love with her, because it wasn’t fair to tell her when she was in that space. She was so open to him, so under his control, that she wasn’t in her right mind. She would have agreed to anything that he said, so he hadn’t said it.

 

He had decided that he was going to cancel the plan though. He was just going to tell her that he was in love with her and see what she said. Because to continue on like this would lead to madness.

 

As he lay there, he planned to make her coffee in the morning. He could see her sipping it with her eyes closed, a sweet little smile on her face, and him saying There’s something I want to talk to you about. Her eyes would open and she’d say You can talk to me about anything, because she’d hear in his voice it was something serious. And he’d tell her I’ve always loved you, but I’m now in love with you. And I want to be with you for real. He couldn’t quite imagine the response he’d get, but he was going to say it and just let those chips fall where they may.

 

Instead though he’d been woken out of a dead sleep and answered the phone only to have Mormont say Snow, get in here, we’ve got problems. So he’d hurried to get dressed and looking at the early hour he hadn’t wanted to wake her. He’d written her a note and placed it on the bedside table beside her.

 

Ella,

 

I got called in early to work, but don’t rush out. There’s coffee if you want it, or you can just snoop as I know you like to do (don’t tidy, though).

 

I’ll see you tonight for the concert, maybe I can pick you up and we can go together?

 

Love,

Jon

 

An hour later he’d gotten a text from her I snoop because I care, Snow – by the way, you need more spices. Garlic powder only goes so far. And then another I’d love to go to the concert with you, but me and the girls are getting dinner first. I can’t wait to see you there! Followed by a third Thank you for last night, it meant a lot to me and so do you.

 

Once again, he’d been annoyed with himself that he hadn’t thought to ask her before. He loved that she was such a girl’s girl, and that she always refused to give up time with the Tyrell cousins for any guy. Even him. But he should have realized that she’d have a plan and asked her sooner.

 

So instead, he’d gone and gotten a beer with Gendry. Checking his phone every five seconds to see if she’d texted. Being taciturn at best and an outright ass at worst.

 

She hadn’t, but she had posted a picture of her, Margy and Elinor. Clearly it hadn’t been the photo they’d intended to take – Marg had posted that one, a gorgeous shot of the three of them smiling, heads tilted, the works - it had been the three of them laughing in a state of chaos. Elinor trying to signal to someone, Marg, burying her face in Ella’s neck, Ella’s mouth open in surprise, her eyes scrunched closed. The caption had read decorum, never heard of her.

 

She was so adorable.

 

And she wasn’t here. They had texted the girls when they got here, telling them to let them know when they did too. It was a great outdoor venue, but it was a bit wild. It was just the opening band playing now, but the headliners – a band he and Gendry had gotten into in high school – would be on soon.

 

“HOW CAN YOU BE SNOW WHEN YOU’RE SO HOT?!?!” he heard Margaery Tyrell shouting from behind him.

 

“Elinor looks fucking fit,” Gendry noted.

 

He was sure she did. Elinor and Marg were beautiful girls. All he could see though was Ella.

 

Even still, he tried not to be such a grouch and hugged Elinor and let Marg slap his butt. Ella was hugging Gendry, laughing at something he was saying.

 

He went to her, waiting for Gendry to release her, and then got impatient.

 

“Hey,” he interrupted them.

 

She turned and smiled at him, “Hi you.” Then giggled, “Gendry let me go.”

 

Gendry released her and he sort of pushed his way in and kissed her cheek. Her hand rubbed his side, squeezing it gently.

 

“Loras is towards the front,” Marg announced, “Let’s go there.”

 

“I want a drink,” Elinor said and then looked at Gendry, “Buy me one and maybe I’ll forgive you for last night.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Buy me one and maybe I’ll forgive you for last night.”

 

The pair of them left to go towards the bar, not bothering to ask if the rest of them wanted anything. Weirdly, Elinor gave him an odd look before they left. Seemingly in warning of something though he had no idea what.

 

“Guys?” Marg asked.

 

“I’m too short to stand at the front,” Ella lamented, “My neck always hurts, and I get elbowed. I don’t want to ruin your fun though.”

 

“I’ll find us a good place,” he told her, in her ear.

 

She squeezed his forearm and nodded and Marg, seemingly understanding he was sticking with Ella, told them she’d catch up with them later and went off to find her brother.

 

“Do you want a drink or anything?” he asked her when they were alone.

 

She shook her head and asked, “Do you?”

 

“No, no, let’s go over here,” he pointed to a place closer to the front but off to the side. She looked and nodded and then turned around fully and – “God, Ella, baby, you’re killing me in that.”

 

From the front she looked like she was just wearing a normal white tank top, cut primly across her collarbone, but when she turned around it was entirely backless apart from a tie at the center of her back. She’d paired it with jeans that cupped her perfect little butt that the only logical response to was wanting to either bend her over your knee and spank her or get down on your knees for her and bury your face against it. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a way he’d never seen on her but was still vaguely familiar, little golden tendrils escaping in the sexiest way possible.

 

She turned her head, looking up at him, “I hoped you might like it.” Then took his hand, “Come on, show’s about to start.”

 

Her hand was so small and delicate but it felt grounding in his. He interlaced their fingers and let her lead them through until they got to the busier part and then he moved in front to keep people away from her.

 

He got them to a little alcove where people hadn’t yet thought to be. They had a perfect view of the stage without the idiots thrashing around.

 

“Sorry I had to leave this morning,” he told her.

 

“Did I hear you talking to Mormont?” she wondered. He nodded. She winced, “Sounded pretty bad, even in my sleepy haze. Is everything alright?”

 

“It is now,” he assured her.

 

She smiled up at him, “Because of you.”

 

His chest seized at that smile and that confidence in him. She had always been like that. So sure about him. He remembered she’d say things like that after his rugby games in high school. Everyone was freaking out, which was silly, because you were on the field. What was there to be nervous about?

 

“El I-“ he started but before she could even register that he was speaking to her, the crowd was going wild.

 

The band announced themselves and then started playing one of their most popular songs and the place erupted. Everyone was dancing at once.

 

He looked at Ella who was bouncing adorably, her eyes shut, her head moving to the beat with a delighted smile on her face. Without thinking he took her hand and twirled her.

 

She threw her head back and giggled and then she was wrapping that arm around her waist, her back against his chest, moving to the beat. He felt her butt shimmying against him slightly and he placed his free hand on her hip, his thumb moving underneath her shirt to touch the warm skin at her waist.

 

“It’ll be over soon,” she promised.

 

Don’t say that, he wanted to say.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

 

She tilted her head back and looked up at him, “This song. I know it’s too mainstream for you.”

 

He looked in her eyes, squeezing her hip, “I uh hope it doesn’t end too soon.”

 

She grinned and closed her eyes, leaning her back more solidly against his chest and raising the hand she was holding as she shimmied to the beat. He was used to her body moving against his but he wasn’t used to not being able to really do anything about it and he felt like he was going to go blind.

 

The song ended and everyone cheered. Ella released his hand but didn’t move away from him, so he clapped around her keeping her in the chamber of his chest.

 

They started playing one of his favorites. A slower, heavier beat, putting the crowd into some sort of trance.

 

He rested his arms on Ella’s tiny shoulders, wrapping them around her chest, as they moved slowly in tandem with everyone else.

 

“I remember the first time I heard this song,” she told him. Then added, “Sorry, I won’t ruin your favorite song by talking.”

 

“You couldn’t ruin anything for me by talking,” he said in her ear. “When did you hear it first?”

 

She leaned her temple against his jaw and said, “I was with you.” He started slightly, wanting to place the memory, but she gave it to him. “It was after one of those parties in the woods. I couldn’t find Gendry so you gave me a ride back. You had it playing in the car.” She was silent for a moment and then said, “I was too embarrassed to tell you I didn’t know who the band was. But I looked up the lyrics as soon as I got into my dorm room. I think I listened to it on repeat for a week.”

 

“You could have asked,” he told her.

 

He saw her cheek lift in a smile and she said, “I know that now, but I wanted you to think I was cool.”

 

Cool had never really been something he’d associated with her. She was warm. Warm and vibrant. Caring and thoughtful.

 

It would never occur to him that she’d want to be thought of otherwise.

 

He remembered that night now. He hadn’t been drinking because he had an early morning meeting with a scout for university. The guys had convinced him to go out anyway, but he had been ready to go the minute that he got there.

 

They knew each other a little at that point, but it still felt strange having her alone in his car. If he was Theon, he would’ve tried to park somewhere with her, but he had it in his head even then that she was precious and he’d driven with both hands on the wheel, hardly giving her anything more than a grunt in response because he was so focused on the road.

 

He’d dropped her off right in front of her dorm and she’d turned and smiled at him and then her face had fallen and she’d said oh I could’ve gone to the student parking lot with you, I hope this wasn’t too out of your way. And he’d thought she was the most innocent person he’d ever met, because even at sixteen she somehow hadn’t learned yet that guys were going to fall all over each other trying to go out of their way for her.

 

“I thought you were amazing,” he told her, “I was right.”

 

She sunk back against him and he saw that her eyes were closed. He lowered his lips to her temple, because it was there and warm and he couldn’t explain the comfort he felt when he kissed her there.

 

I love you, he wanted to say. And then maybe this would be their song for good.

 

“I have an idea for some roles,” she said though.

 

His stomach sank and he almost said you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, but it wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t get mad at her for doing exactly what they’d been doing all along.

 

Even still, he couldn’t put any enthusiasm into his voice when he said, “Oh yeah?”

 

She nodded, “Well, actually I just have my role. You’d have to figure out yours.”

 

“Tell me about her,” he said, because he had to say something and against his will he was curious.

 

"Well... the thing about her that is really important… is that she’s crazy about your character,” she said, “Actually, she’s really very in love with him.”

 

He was nodding along and then stopped, realizing what she was saying. This was either meta to the extreme or she was confessing her love.

 

There was only one way to find out.

 

“Theon,” he said.

 

“What? Where?” she asked.

 

He turned her around and took her gorgeous face by the cheeks, tilting her face up so that he could look at her, “No, no, I’m saying Theon.” Her eyes showed recognition and then her face crumbled and he realized she thought he was saying no, this is too much, so he said, “No, Ella, baby, I just… I need to know if you’re serious.”

 

Her beautiful eyes widened and she nodded, “I’m serious. Jon, I’m so serious. Unless you don’t feel the same way. In which case…,” she shook her head and let out the sweetest, most nervous laugh, “In which case I just have a really niche kink.”

 

“You can have whatever kinks you want, we’ll indulge them all,” he chuckled, leaning down and kissing her lips. She giggled against his and then he released one of her cheeks and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground. He kissed her again and then pulled away slightly, “I will be your teacher or your bus driver or your king or your court fucking gesture just let me be your boyfriend too.”

 

Her eyes softened and she smiled, tilting her head to the side, “You want to be my boyfriend?”

 

“Well I’m in love with you,” he told her, “So that feels like a good place to start.”

 

Her eyes closed and she leaned forward and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He sunk against her, dipping her backwards as their lips wandered over each other. Their song was still playing and he didn’t care that they were PDAing because Myrcella Penelope Baratheon was in love with him and she knew it.

 

He set her down and the moment he did she wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek to his chest. She held him like that, like she’d long been waiting to, and he kissed the top of her head, her silky hair.

 

“So… Arianne didn’t seduce you away from me?” she asked.

 

His brow knit, “What?”

 

She looked up at him sheepishly, “I feel silly now but when I saw you two talking last night I –“

 

He chuckled, closing his eyes, “You mean when she saw me look at you for three seconds and called me out for being in love with you?”

 

“Oh,” she giggled. “I’m so stupid. I wore my hair like her to entice you.”

 

“That is stupid,” he agreed, hugging her tightly, “Though uh it looks really good.”

 

She looked up at him, her chin on his chest, “I think I’ve loved you for some time now. I’m just glad I didn’t know it, because this last day has been torture.”

 

“Well pity me, then, because I had two days of it,” he noted.

 

She smiled and reached up and took his cheeks in her hands and pulled him towards her, “You poor thing.”

 

“I know it’s just been terrible,” he agreed against her lips.

 

She giggled but kissed him again and he kissed her and she loved him. He could feel the strength of it. He had no idea how she held that much sturdiness in her little body but it was something strong enough to build his world around.

 

“Should we um… go?” she asked.

 

He grinned, “We can but… I sort of…”

 

“Want to be out in the open?” she guessed. He nodded and she nodded. “Me too… for a little bit though…”

 

He chuckled, “Yeah, just for a little bit. Three songs at most.”

 

Confident that he could keep elbows away from her, he lead her closer to the front without getting too close so that she’d have to strain her neck. She started dancing and he watched her body move until she turned around and gave him a pointed look. He shimmied his hips and she giggled but nodded.

 

And then she jumped into his arms.

 

“Hi,” she said, her fingers going into his hair and kissing him.

 

He kissed her back, the chaos all around them. He felt people jostling him but he didn’t much mind.

 

Until he felt someone pointedly jabbing their finger into his arm.

 

He went to pull away from Ella but she said no against his lips and kept kissing him and then ow!

 

She pulled away from him and turned to the side, “Did you just flick my ear?”

 

“Did you just mount my best friend?” Gendry asked in her return.

 

“I’m your best friend?” he wondered. “That’s so sweet, man.”

 

Ella giggled, and pressed her cheek to his. They both looked at Gendry, who didn’t really look pissed but looked confused.

 

“If it helps, we’re in love,” Ella told him. “But um… why don’t you tell Elinor how you really feel and then maybe you’ll calm down.”

 

“El,” he tried to chide but couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

 

Especially when Elinor looked at Gendry and crossed her arms and said, “Go on.”

 

They left them to handle that and then went and found Loras and Marg. They ended up staying for a good half of the concert, each of them wanting to leave but then turning to each other and saying wait this is a good song.

 

Finally they left and somehow kept it together as they waited for a taxi. His hands were roaming once they were in it, but thankfully it was a short ride to Ella’s apartment.

 

“Good evening, Miss Myrcella,” Sid, her favorite doorman, said.

 

“This is my boyfriend, Jon!” she told him.

 

“He’s known me for years,” he pointed out. “Hey Sid.”  

 

“Not as my boyfriend,” she reasoned. Then asked Sid, “Isn’t it wonderful?”

 

Sid smiled kindly at her, “It’s very wonderful, Miss Myrcella.”

 

They went up in the elevator to her apartment and then she unlocked the door and let them in and then before he could push her against it, she was pushing him against it.

 

She threw her body against his, kissing him wildly and all he could do, all he wanted to do, was kiss her back. He felt her moving his t-shirt up his body so he helped her pull it off and then he was kissing her as she was focusing on undoing his jeans and then her hand was slipping in and she was taking hold of his cock.

 

Before he could tell her that they didn’t have to rush, he heard her say something against his chest.

 

He took her cheeks in his hands and tilted her face up to his, “What was that?” Her cheeks warmed underneath his hands, turning pink. He rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. “Tell me.”

 

“I said mine,” she said softly. Her head tilted to the side and she removed her hand from his pants and both of them moved up his chest and she leaned her body against him, “You’re mine, aren’t you? As I’m yours?”

 

“Yeah, baby,” he agreed, “I’m yours alright.”

 

With that he scooped her up into his arms and lead her into her bedroom. He’d been in it many times, but never in her bed, not in any real way.

 

“Ooh you’re like a fireman rescuing me from a burning building or a – hmm…” her brows furrowed, “What else?”

 

He chuckled and sat on her bed and then laid her down beside him. He twisted and hovered over her, his knuckle running down her cheek.

 

“How about just you and me tonight, baby?” he asked her finally, as he’d envisioned doing a hundred times.

 

“You and me?” she smiled, “Boyfriend and girlfriend and totally in love?”

 

“El,” he chuckled.

 

“I’m sorry,” she closed her eyes, scrunching them, “I’m sorry I’m just excited. Aren’t you excited?”

 

“I’m excited,” he confirmed. And then before she could say yes, you really sound it, he explained, “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

 

 Her eyes opened and her face fell. She reached up and stroked his cheek in a way that made his heart clench.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” she told him.

 

He lifted her up once again, pulling her so that she was sitting in his lap, but straddling him. He kissed her and she kissed him back softly, her palm against his cheek, her forehead against his.

 

“You’re not overwhelming me,” he promised her, smirking, “Except in that way that you always sort of do. I’m overwhelmed by how happy I am.”

 

She smiled, “Me too. Obviously.” He chuckled at her and she kissed him again and then his cheek and over to his ear. Her fingers trailed down his chest, “You just have to relax. I can help you.”

 

With that she reached her hand into his pants again, closing around his cock. She started to rub it.

 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me relax, baby,” he told her, “But don’t stop.”

 

“I love feeling you get hard in my hand,” she told him, sucking his earlobe in a way that made his eyes roll back as she stroked him, “Or my mouth. It makes me feel so wanted. Like I know how to make you feel good. Does that feel good?”

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

He lifted up slightly so that he could pull his pants down further. His cock was fully hard now and it sprang out and she rubbed all the way down to the base and then cupped his balls gently.

 

“Can I have you in my mouth, Jon?” she asked in his ear.

 

“If my cock goes an inch past your lips I’m going to come,” he warned her.

 

“I love it when you come in my mouth,” she said in his ear, stroking him more firmly. She then flicked her tongue against his ear, and he groaned, “Come on, honey, just a taste.”

 

He pulled her face towards him and kissed her hungrily, “If that’s what you want. I’ll be hard for you again in no time, but first I want this off.”

 

With that he undid the tie of her shirt, pulling it off her body and revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d suspected and that suspicion had drove him nearly crazy.

 

He placed his hand to the center of her back and she arched it for him like always. His other hand cupped one of her breasts and he lowered his lips to the other.

 

“Or I could make you come again with just my mouth on your perfect breasts,” he told her.

 

“Jon,” she whimpered and then asked, “How did you know I would come that way?”

 

“I didn’t,” he told her. She giggled and he smiled and looked at her, “Did I seem confident?”

 

“Very confident,” she smiled, kissing him again. He kissed her deeply, their hands tangling in each other’s hair, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Against his lips, her center rocking against him, she told him, “I want you inside of me.” And then realized that they’d made other plans and said, “But I want to lick you…and I want you to –“

 

“Ella, baby,” he stopped her, “We are going to do it all. We have all night, and the rest of our lives.”

 

“Say that again,” she breathed.

 

He pulled away slightly and looked in her gorgeous green eyes, “We have the rest of our lives… don’t we?”

 

Those eyes filled and a tear escaped, running down her cheek as she nodded, “We do.”

 

He kissed the tear off her and suddenly there was no need to talk about it or plan because it was just happening.

 

They did all the things they had talked about, and many more that night, and as he’d known it would be, just them, boyfriend and girlfriend, totally in love, were their best roles yet.

Notes:

It sort of feels like this should be the last ch, but if people are interested in an epilogue let me know!

Also, I definitely can imagine me writing in this universe again - this story just didn't have much plot and I didn't want to complicate it now - but if you have any kinks you'd be interested in seeing them explore let me know and I could maybe write some supporting one shots down the line.

Chapter 7

Summary:

ooooh thanks to all of those who came along on this one and commented! it was so fun to write

this is just a quick little epilogue

“So how exactly is this going to work?” Sam asked.

 

“What confuses you?” Elinor asked petulantly, and Myrcella bit her lip to hide her smile.

 

“Well you’re literally sitting next to one another,” Sam gestured to Elinor and Gendry, “His hand is on your thigh – right there we can all see it – and yet you refuse to speak to one another and we aren’t allowed to speak to either of you and reference the other?”

 

“Just go about your business,” Gendry shook his head, sipping from his glass of whiskey.

 

Sam stared directly at her and she giggled but shrugged.

 

Elinor and Gendry was sort of her fault. Apparently in her stupor of her and Jon confessing their love, she had outed them as well. That had actually been a good thing, for like three days anyway. Ever since it had been on and off and on and off and so on. Elinor was a flirt and Gendry refused to give her the reaction she wanted even though he’d silently brood about it and it was all very juvenile but they honestly seemed pretty happy.

 

“Is Jon already drunk?” Gendry asked, “Why is he all smiley?”

 

She smiled, “It’s because of me.”

 

Gilly said aww and Theon rolled his eyes. She turned around and got up on her knees on the booth right as Jon was reaching their table. He took her cheeks in his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips.

 

All at once, everything was right.

 

“Hi baby,” he said and then kissed her gently again.

 

“Come sit,” she smiled. “I got you a beer.”

 

He walked around and she turned back around and plopped down as Jon was sliding into the booth next to her. He placed his hand on her leg and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He squeezed her leg as he greeted everyone else.

 

“Oh, I made a reservation at Winter for when your mom is in,” she remembered, once the greetings were done.

 

He sighed and closed his eyes, “Thank you, I’m sorry, I meant to.”

 

She stroked his hair softly, “I know you did, honey, but you’ve had such a busy week and I knew you wanted to take her there.”

 

He smiled and shook his head, “You take such good care of me.”

 

Before she could tell him that he took better care of her, Theon said, “Enough.”

 

She and Jon turned to look at him.

 

“What?” Jon asked.

 

“We weren’t even kissing,” she noted.

 

“It’s enough, it’s really enough,” Gendry told her. “For two months we’ve been watching this shit.”

 

“Do you really want to discuss what people at this table have been watching for two months?” she challenged him.

 

“Yeah you have no leg to stand on,” Theon said, and then looked at Elinor and Gendry, “You either want to be together or you do not want to be together. Choose I can’t stand this anymore. And you two,” he looked at her and Jon, “We get it. You love each other. You’re perfect for each other. Enough.”

 

“So they aren’t happy enough, and they are too happy,” Gilly suggested.

 

“Thank you, Gilly,” Jon noted. Then asked Theon, “Do you need a hug, buddy?”

 

She giggled, leaning her forehead against his temple. He chuckled, squeezing her leg.

 

In fairness to Theon, she knew that they were a lot. It wasn’t like they were full blown making out around everyone or anything, but they were just really happy. Everyone noticed it in Jon, but she was no less over the moon. She believed she was more so, actually, but he disagreed.

 

Either way the past two months had been the best ever.

 

Jon was the love of her life. It was as simple as that. She felt a contentment with him, even when he had her whimpering and begging. There was an undercurrent of total comfort. A knowledge that she was it for him, as he was it for her.

 

They had gotten very serious, very quickly. Having been friends for a decade, they knew so much about each other, that it was easy to fall very quickly into a full blown relationship.

 

We’ll be there. Oh sorry, we can’t make it. We love that place!

 

Somehow, she had convinced him that they ought to take a trip. Jon never took a real vacation, so she’d thought it was a lark when she’d suggested it. Then two nights ago, they’d been sitting drinking wine on his couch and he’d handed her his phone and said what do you think of these places? Maybe we could drive along the coast and spend a couple of days here and there?

 

He had met her mother. She had already known him of course but now as her boyfriend. It hadn’t gone great but it was a work in progress.

 

She hadn’t seen Lyanna since they’d gotten together, but whenever Jon called her when they were together Lyanna would say now go away and let me talk to my girl and they’d catch up for a little while. She was coming in next weekend with her new boyfriend Arthur and it was very clear that Arthur was the one being sussed out, not her.

 

They were serious, really serious. There were talks of moving in.

 

Jon was so cute about it. He’d talk about how much sense it would make and since it would happen anyway wouldn’t it be practical to just do it soon? She would nod along, a small smile on her face and he’d finally tackle her backwards and say fine I want to be with you all the time, is that what you want to hear?

 

Theon got over it for a little bit, and they all started making plans for the weekend.

 

When she finished her drink, she and Jon headed for the bar.

 

“Do you have any cash?” she asked.

 

He pulled out his wallet and handed her the whole thing, pulling out one of his cards, “I’ll get you another.”

 

She squeezed his forearm and headed back towards the jukebox. She was going to put on their song and make him dance with her. It wouldn’t take very much effort but he’d pretend just so she’d smile and tilt her head and say please, honey?

 

Opening his wallet filled her with warmth as it had the first time she’d seen the picture of her in it. She grabbed out a dollar and found the song and inserted it.

 

“Good choice,” a man’s voice said next to her.

 

She turned and looked into a cold pair of blue eyes, her stomach turning immediately for some reason.

 

“Oh, thanks, it’s mine and my boyfriend’s song,” she answered.

 

His eyes flashed at the word boyfriend and her stomach twisted even more. On most guys the boyfriend card worked – so much so, that she’d used it even when she didn’t have one – but for others it made a girl more enticing. The idea of stealing her from someone else. He clearly was one of those.

 

She scanned the crowd for Jon and saw that he was talking to the bartender.

 

“Excuse me,” she said, offering a vacant, impersonal smile.

 

“Now wait, wait,” the guy said, a hand on her forearm, “Don’t run off so quickly. Surely you’re allowed to talk to me.”

 

“I’m allowed to do whatever I want,” she noted, emboldened by the fact that Jon was in sight and that Gendry and Theon were close by too. Usually she’d do her best not to ruffle any feathers with a guy but she disliked that this one had put his hand on her. “Including leave this conversation.”

 

“Ohhhh you’ve got some spunk, don’t you?” he said, cornering her against the jukebox.

 

He wasn’t hurting her, he wasn’t even really scaring her. But he was bothering her.

 

“If you don’t let go of me you’ll see just how much,” she informed him.

 

“And after that you’ll see how much spunk I have,” the most comforting voice in the world growled. Jon didn’t touch the guy, he’d learned the hard way when they were younger that she didn’t take kindly to him working things out that way. Instead, he came right next to her, setting their drinks down on the jukebox, his arm going around her shoulders. He looked pointedly at the guy’s hand that was still on her wrist, though now it was holding it sort of limply. “Either way, in three seconds you lose that hand.”

 

The two of them shared a look that was quite similar to the way she’d seen dogs assess one another in the park. Jon won whatever it was and the guy released her and walked away.

 

Just like that, their song came on, and she didn’t even have to ask. Jon took her by the hand and then into his arms, moving her to the familiar beat.

 

“You alright?” he asked her.

 

She leaned her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes, “I’m perfect.”

 

“That I know,” he noted, rubbing her back.

 

She smiled and snuggled against him, “You’re really rather gallant.”

 

He chuckled, “Not sure about that. Wasn’t really thinking about being gallant.”

 

There was something in his voice, something familiar, that made her lift her cheek off his chest and look up at him.

 

“Oh, no?” she wondered.

 

“No,” he shook his head. His eyes were black orbs, glimmering down at her. He leaned closer and told her, “No one gets to touch what’s mine.”

 

She tried not to smile, but it was difficult.

 

They really were getting very serious, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still room for play.