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ONE YEAR EARLIER
“Agatha... what are those symbols you’re painting?”
“You seriously don’t know?”
“Well, from here they look like several examples of ‘surrender to your desires’, ‘increase affection’, and ‘increase libido’.”
“So why did you ask?”
(sigh) “Agatha, I was asking with the sub-text “Why in Hecate’s name are you painting magic symbols inside our carnival attraction, which we will be exposing many members of the public to?” Do you want us to get sued? Or called in by the Misuse of Magic Office?”
“Don’t be silly! It’s not mind-altering or anything, it’s just giving things a little... push. This is going to be a ‘Tunnel of Love’, so the couples that go through it will come out feeling lovey-dovey and horny. Just think about the Yelp reviews we’ll get!”
“And what about people who aren’t couples, who are just going through it for laughs? Or people who are going on this because they get sick on other rides, and who’s significant others are on the coaster? Or tweenage girls going through with their besties because it’s so romantic?”
(eyeroll) “It’s like you think I’m stupid or something. All the boats are floating on water, so the customers won’t be around any of the symbols long enough for anything to happen inside the ride. If anything, their partners will have a good time when they get home, or they get to discover the joys of masturbation. Honestly, the worst that will happen is that a few of the security guards might bust some couples fucking in the parking lot because they don’t want to wait to get home. So what?”
(deeper sigh) “If something goes wrong, I’m throwing you off the flying carpet.”
“Fine, Miss Scaredy-cat! And when we get asked to hire it out all over the North, I get all the bragging rights!”
ONE MONTH EARLIER
“Agatha, did you hire out our Tunnel of Love to a Halloween carnival?”
“Yep! Their Ghost train got derailed somewhere in the Neck, and they’re paying us triple the usual hire fee plus ten per cent of the gate! It’s easy to re-decorate – the whole tunnel looks like a cave anyway. We put Halloween costumes on all the dummies, add in a few fake coffins and bubbling cauldrons and maybe put in a mad scientist lab or zombie graveyard to replace the masqued ballroom? We hang fake spider-webs and black drop-cloths from the ceiling with ghost outlines, and instead of the love songs we play spooky sound effects over the sound system. We haven’t painted the spare set of boats yet, so we make them black and use stencils for skulls and bones over that. Hey, if we keep them that way maybe we can add a pirate cave option?”
PRESENT DAY - LAST FRIDAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN
“Sheesh, Sansa, you’re such a scaredy-cat. We wait any longer to hit the really good rides, we’ll be stuck in line for ages. All the college students will hit the carnival soon – trust me, I know.”
“I’m not scared, Arya,” Sansa told her step-sister. “I just get motion-sick easily, remember? I ride the roller-coaster, the Hurricane and the Zipper within an hour, and I’ll be bringing up dinner with a vengeance. Just go without me.”
Arya made an expressive face. “I forgot about all those meds you had to take for our family honeymoon. But seriously, what was the point of getting to leave Rickon and the parentals at home if not to go on all the rides?”
Jon ruffled her hair affectionately. “You can still go on all the rides. At least the ones you’re tall enough for.”
Arya scowled and hit her older brother in the side. “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet! That’s why Sansa found me these platform combat boots.”
Jon smiled, not even feeling Arya’s punch. While Sansa had corralled Arya and Bran through the shooting games and stashing Arya’s armful of prizes in the car, Theon had split a joint with him and Robb. As a result, Jon was feeling as chilled as a capybara.
“Robb and Theon are coming back now,” Sansa pointed down the midway. “Robb loves those rides, too. If he hesitates, tell him it’ll be a sibling bonding moment – that always gets him.”
Bran snickered. “Sansa, the mastermind. But seriously, Theon loves the arcade but hates admitting it. I’ll ask him to go through it with me and that’ll leave Robb for you.”
Sansa grinned. “That leaves Jon to go through the haunted house with me.”
“No it doesn’t! I want to go through the haunted house too!” Arya protested.
“And me!” Bran added. “What about the mirror maze, or the Ghost Tunnel? I think you’re the only ones who wanted those.”
“Um, maybe not the maze,” Jon mumbled. “Reminds me of my ex.”
“The one who shot you with an arrow or the one who’s now running that cult?” Sansa asked.
“Dany,” Jon replied. He hadn’t even told his best friend Sam, or Robb, that his narcissistic to the point of God-complex girlfriend had once hired out the entire mirror maze for an hour so she could make him fuck her while she watched their reflections in about ten different mirrors. There were reasons he’d stayed with her as long as he had - almost all of them sexual.
“Ghost Tunnel then?” Sansa asked brightly.
“Sure,” Jon said agreeably. “It hasn’t been here before, so I’m up for the new experience.”
Leaving their younger siblings in Robb and Theon’s sometimes-capable hands, Jon and Sansa headed across the fairgrounds.
Sansa looked up at the night sky, and smiled. “I love full moons, and this one’s special, did you know?”
“Wasn’t Bran talking about this at breakfast the other day?” Jon asked. “It’s a blue moon, yeah? The second in a month?”
“Exactly. It’s very good for charging spells and ceremonies.”
“You don’t talk much about your magic studies,” Jon remarked curiously. “Even when I helped you study for the botany section.”
“It tends to upset Mother. I inherited the talent from her, but she’s so devoted to the Seven she always refused to do anything with it. At least she’s never tried to keep me from it. Though I think it’s partly because Uncle Brynden and Aunt Lysa had a discussion – the kind with a capital D - with her about it when I was younger.”
“So you’re not doing any of those spells or ceremonies?”
Sansa shook her head. “My mentor’s doing something tomorrow, but as a solo practitioner I’m not at the stage yet where it would be useful for me. At my level, without a circle or coven, I might even do myself some damage.”
Arriving at the head of the line, Sansa and Jon tore some tickets off their pre-bought roll, and handed them over to the attendant, dressed in what looked like a Shakespeare heroine costume with a fake vampire bite dribbling down her throat and pale sparkly face paint.
“A water ride? I haven’t seen one of those in a Ghost tunnel before,” Sansa remarked, as Jon handed her into the boat. She stashed her messenger bag in a cage underneath the prow, before she settled into the seat.
The boat’s shape forced them to sit very close together and it took several attempts to find a comfortable position, Jon having to put his arm around Sansa as they headed off into the dark.
A lifelong connoisseur of haunted attractions, Sansa murmured comments to Jon as they slowly floated along.
“Glow in the dark paint usually looks a bit tacky, but these ghosts are painted really well.”
“Oooh, that’s a lovely effect on those floating candelabra! Maybe there’s some actual magic being used here?”
“I wonder why there are no scare actors? There should have been at least one by now if this ride has them.”
“Can you hear a crackle? You think there’s a set-piece up ahead with lightning effects?”
Just as Jon muttered his agreement, they rounded the curve and saw a large alcove holding what looked to be Frankenstein’s laboratory, complete with a semi-covered body on a lab table, and even a pseudo-skylight above showing lightning constantly flashing. Their boat settled to a halt, either to change passengers at the beginning or to let them admire the showpiece, when a particularly large thunderclap made them jump.
Then the already dim lighting went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.
“What the hell?”
Silver runes glowed at several points along the wall, and Sansa exclaimed, “So they are using real magic!”
A soothing voice echoed through the darkness. “We are currently experiencing a power failure, and are working to restore the lights and movement of the boats. In the meantime, we are providing an alternative soundtrack.”
Piano music echoed in the tunnel, and Jon absently identified, “Tchaikovsky. Kind of romantic for a haunted tunnel.”
“Still better than the creepy sound effects, given the situation,” Sansa murmured.
Sansa wasn’t sure how long they floated in the dark, before she found herself snuggling closer to Jon. His arm tightened around her in response.
“Cold?” he asked quietly.
“Not exactly.”
Actually, she was feeling quite warm. Sansa opened up her zippered hoodie and pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her short skirt. She turned her head sideways to bury her face in Jon’s neck. He smelled really good, and Sansa absently pressed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation.
Jon rested his head on top of Sansa’s, as his hand curved around her hip, his thumb at just the right angle to dip under the hem of her sweater to stroke her soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt. It felt really good, holding her close; her slim form fit perfectly into the angles of his own. He felt her lips on the sensitive skin on his throat, and bit back a groan as his cock stirred. Now was probably a bad time to remember all the times he’d fisted his cock to thoughts of his lovely step-sister. Even if those pretty tits of hers were pressed softly against his chest, and he was fairly sure that he could feel her hardened nipples through her sweater and his shirt.
Sansa could admit to herself, here in the dark, that her panties were wet and her breasts ached with need. That she wanted to be even closer to Jon. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, and to wrap her arms and legs around him. Her heart pounding, Sansa let her hand drift along the contours of his torso and down, until she could feel the hard bulge between his legs. She sighed as she curved her hand around it, then gasped as she felt Jon’s lips against her ear.
“Let me,” Jon murmured, his voice almost soundless as he brought his free hand down to cover the fingers rubbing at him through his jeans. He moved them aside just enough to undo the button and zip, and groaned in relief as he parted the slit in his boxers to free his erection. Had Theon added something to that joint? He was so horny he was pretty sure he could hammer nails with his dick.
Jon couldn’t see Sansa’s fingers gently, tentatively wrap around his rampant cock, gingerly fisting and stroking him, but it was really working for him. The hand he’d latched around her hip slid up and under her sweater, until he could feel the lace of her bra. He ran his fingertips along the curve of her breast until he found the hem of the cup, gently tugging until her now-exposed breast fell into his palm, where his fingers could rub and flick at her nipple. She was half-way in his lap, her knee hooked over his thigh, and Jon used it as a guide for his other hand, gliding his fingers along her inner thigh until he found her mound.
Sansa whimpered as he stroked and rubbed her pussy through the soaking wet fabric of her underwear, but he wanted more. Jon pulled and fumbled until he felt her bare folds, and expertly found her clit. Sansa moaned, and Jon’s cock all but jumped in her grip in response.
Sansa’s head was spinning, and in the dark she was blind to everything but Jon. His touch on her breast and between her legs, and the hot throbbing rod of muscle in her hand. She felt so good, and she loved it. Why had no one ever told her she could feel so good? She moved her hips against Jon’s hand, and his thick fingers slid in her slick folds until one slipped right inside her. She felt herself squeeze down on him in reaction.
“More. Jon, I want more,” she whispered. Another finger pushed it’s way inside her, and they both wriggled and curved, and when Jon touched a certain spot Sansa slammed her hand over her mouth as she shivered and writhed through her first climax.
Jon had never fucked a virgin before, but Sansa was so tight around his fingers he was sure he was about to. She was so wet she was dripping onto his hand, and he wouldn’t have any issues working his dick into Sansa’s cunt even though he was on the larger side and she was so tight.
“You need to sit on my lap,” he murmured. It took some manoeuvring, untangling their legs by feel, but both Jon’s hands latched on Sansa’s hips, and he pulled her body flush to his with her knees bracketing his hips. His cock rubbed against her soaked underwear, and Sansa sighed and rocked her pelvis to increase the friction. Jon could already feel the pressure building along his spine; he needed to move quickly. “Sansa? If I lift you up, can you put me in the right place?”
Sansa reached down and gripped his cock in answer. He felt her pull her underwear aside with one hand as the tip of cock brushed against her folds. As it notched into her opening, Jon eased Sansa down, groaning as he sank into her tight, slick cunt.
Was it her delectable pussy that felt so good, or was it because he’d never fucked raw before? Either way, Jon was pretty sure he was having the best sex of his life.
“Your thing is inside me!” Sansa whimpered. “It’s so big, I’m so full.”
“Are you hurting?” Jon rumbled softly in her ear.
“Mmmph, ah! It feels really good, though,” Sansa gasped. She wriggled and squirmed, not sure whether she was trying to get Jon deeper inside her or find a position that didn’t feel like she was going to burst. She pushed her sweater up to her armpits, and wrenched at the front hooks of her bra. As Jon’s grip on her hips urged her to rock back and forth, Sansa slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her bare breasts against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.
“Lean back a little,” Jon ordered.
Sansa arched her back, mourning the loss of stimulation to her breasts, but Jon somehow shifted his hips, changing the angle of his hardness and Sansa yelped as he rubbed against the place inside his fingers had found earlier, making her feel like a lightning-bolt, sizzling and ready to strike. He did it again and again, and Sansa felt herself explode.
“That’s it, sweetheart, clench down hard on my cock,” Jon growled in her ear, and Sansa convulsed, her inner muscles trying to squeeze the delicious intrusion that already stretched her open without remorse.
Jon moved his hands to her tits, just the right size to fill his hands, and clutched them as his own climax slammed into him.
“Ah! I can feel your hot stuff coming out, it’s squirting inside me,” moaned Sansa.
Thing? Hot stuff? In the fragment of his mind that wasn’t drowning in pleasure, Jon wondered just what version of The Talk his stepmother had given the girl taking his dick like she was made for it. At least he could cum inside her without reservation; having helped Sansa study for her herbalist lessons, he knew she was licensed to brew moon tea.
Sansa pressed her forehead against Jon’s as she gasped for breath, and his tight grip on her breasts softened, gently cradling them in his big hands.
The rattling of chains broke their silence, and the boat jerked. Sansa sat bolt upright as the boat started to move.
“Fuck, we’re moving! You need to get off me!” Jon yelped.
Sansa nearly fell out of the boat, trying to disentangle herself from Jon and sit back down while shifting her panties back into place. At the same time, Jon was cursing beside her; Sansa caught a glimpse of his still-hard cock as he pushed it back into his jeans, and a swift after-shock of need ran through her. The dim light grew brighter, and Sansa gave up fumbling with her bra to yank her sweater down, hurriedly zipping up her hoodie, glad she’d borrowed it from Jon earlier in the evening and it was thus two sizes too big.
Their boat cruised through a curtain of strings of moss, and bumped into the dock. Blinking away after-images of the bright carnival lights, Sansa ignored the ride attendant’s droning voice.
Looking down at the bottom of the boat, Sansa’s eyes widened in horror at the obvious stains surrounding Jon’s fly. His leather jacket wasn’t long enough to cover them.
“Hang on, I need my bag!” she exclaimed. Bending forward, half-over Jon’s lap, Sansa groped for her messenger bag with one hand. With the other, she passed her fingertips, faintly glowing river-blue, over Jon’s crotch while she whispered a key-phrase.
Jon had to help her out of the boat, too – her legs could barely hold her up.
Jon’s fingers circled her wrist, as he led her away from the ride, the attendant’s smirk not hidden by the fangs of his B-movie Dracula costume.
“There’s bathrooms under the stairs to the grandstand, hardly anyone should be there until it’s time for the fireworks,” Jon told her. “Meet you outside once we’ve both cleaned up.”
Keeping his body turned away from the man at urinals, Jon shut himself into the farthest cubicle with a sigh of relief. What in the seven hells had Sansa been playing at, fondling his crotch like that in front of that vampire jerkass?
Jon grabbed a fistful of toilet tissue and looked down to assess the damage. In the bright light of the bathroom, he could see no tell-tale stains. Looking in the direction of the ladies’ room, Jon sent a mental apology to Sansa. She’d been using her favorite cleaning spell; if he’d been paying attention to her words instead of her touch he’d have recognised it. She’d certainly used it on Arya and Bran to help them avoid Catelyn’s wrath enough times.
In the only available stall in the ladies’ room, Sansa hung her messenger bag and hoodie on the hook on the back of the door. Reaching underneath her sweater, she pulled the cups of her bra back into place but couldn’t quite fasten it. With a sigh of exasperation, Sansa pulled off her sweater, static electricity making her hair crackle, and shrugged out of her bra.
Standing topless in the small concrete-walled building, Sansa felt her nipples harden again from the chilly air as she inspected her bra. She’d somehow managed to pop the stitching that kept the hooks in place. It would be quite uncomfortable if she tried to wear it now and she was sure to lose at least one set of hook-and-eyes. Folding the garment carefully, Sansa slipped it into the laptop sleeve of her messenger bag. Sitting down on the toilet, Sansa needed three lots of tissue to clean Jon’s spend from between her legs, and two castings of the ‘neaten-up’ spell to make her sodden panties wearable again.
Dragging her sweater back over her head, Sansa inhaled sharply as she tugged it into place over her hips. The soft wool felt so good against her still-sensitized breasts, and the place between her legs ached with longing. Even though she was sore down there from being forced wide open, she missed the fullness. Shrugging on the hoodie, she left it open. After washing her hands at the communal sinks, Sansa settled the strap of her messenger bag in a cross-body position between her breasts. Looking at her reflection, Sansa could see her hard nipples ever so slightly distorting the surface of her sweater, her unencumbered breasts framed by Jon’s hoodie at the sides and the bag-strap pulling the wool flat between them and taut across them. How easy would it be, for Jon to slide his hand under the hem of her sweater and feel her bare breasts?
Sansa smiled at her reflection as she smoothed the static from her hair.
When they met outside the bathrooms, Jon and Sansa were almost as immaculate as when they went into the Ghost tunnel. Maybe Jon’s curls were a little wilder, and Sansa’s lips were so red it looked like she’d been drinking the smoothie van’s ‘Bloody Brew’. But so what?
Jon’s eyes traced along the curves of his step-sister’s breasts, which he was certain were bare beneath the jack-o-lantern patterned sweater. He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees and bury his face between her thighs. He’d come inside her fifteen minutes ago, and all he could think of was getting Sansa somewhere private enough that he could see her naked before driving balls-deep inside her.
Sansa licked her lips as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his crotch and back, and Jon knew without a doubt that she wanted the exact same thing.
“We could say that you’re not feeling well. Theon can fit everyone else into his Rover, and we can take the car and find somewhere to park on the way home.”
Sansa shook her head, her face regretful. “If I’m sick, Robb would insist on taking me home himself. We’ll have to wait.”
“How long?” Jon asked, his voice gravelly with need.
“I’ll get Theon to invite Robb to stay over, so we can drive Bran and Arya home. Once they’re in bed, come to my room. I can close the curtains around my four-poster so no one can see in even if they open the door.”
“Keep the curtains open to the window,” Jon ran his eyes slowly, deliberately over her breasts, tracing every covered curve with his gaze. “I want to see you naked by moonlight.”
Sansa moved closer, until he could feel the heat of her body against the bare skin of his hand.
“Same here.”
ONE WEEK LATER
“I have to admit, Agatha, that ghost caves idea made us a mint. Maybe we should look into levelling up the spooky decorations, and offering it as a permanent alternative option? Could be in more demand than the Tunnel of Love for things like school carnivals.”
“Ha!”
“Agatha, what are you doing?”
“I’m doing the ‘Agatha was right and she’s telling you so!’ dance.”
“Well, could you please point your booty that way,” (point) “before you shake it?” (mutter) “Like I don’t see enough of your ass during sky-clad ceremonies.” (paper rustling) “The switch from romance to spooky takes, what, a day? And that’s mostly covered during set-up anyway. The only thing I don’t have a cost breakdown for is the spell-paint and spell-removal.”
(full-body pause) “Spell-removal?”
“Yeah, what did it cost to erase the lovey-dovey and horny spells? And what will it cost to re-apply them for the Tunnel of Love? It’s not like that shit works off decals.”
(silence)
“Agatha... you did remember to remove the lovey-dovey and horny spells, right?”
“Um...”
“RIGHT?”