Chapter Text
Daenerys knew it could never be. They were both from different worlds, he the ordinary boy from the distant, icy cold North and she a Targaryen of old. Even if her family name no longer had any value today ... the bright star of the once mightiest family on this globe had long been in decline, its political power and almost limitless fortune lost over the last few generations. But still, Jon would never love her, never marry her, or so she thought at the time, at just fifteen years old.
She was head over heels in love with him, her one true friend, but like all young girls, she feared that her beloved would never return those feelings, and even if he did... he would surely tire of her. Daenerys was almost certain that he would marry a decent girl from the North, as the world was different up here in the eternal icy cold of Winterfell. The North sticks together, how often had she heard those words and how much they hurt the young Targaryen each time anew, as they were proof in her naïve eyes that Jon could never belong to her ... Sansa Stark was the most promising candidate as a future wife at Jon's side, a decent, well-behaved and sheltered girl – not that she didn't fulfill all these criteria herself to perfection, she just wasn't from the North.
The thoughts hurt, even more with Jon sitting here next to her, her on his bed, so close and yet out of her reach ... Daenerys couldn't look at him, not when he stared at her like that, almost as if all her banal doubts were completely irrelevant. But they weren't, the then fifteen-year-old was so sure of that. So she turned her gaze to her hands, in her lap. And then she realized that he wasn't pressing her for an answer. Jon Snow was waiting – the way he had been waiting for the last few months, the way he always waited when it came to her ... he always gave her all the time in the world, let her explore everything at her own pace and yet he was always there to catch her, to hold her, protect her and support her in everything he showed her.
The dark-haired boy next to her wanted her to feel comfortable and safe with him. And why not – when he always did everything he could to make her feel that way. Jon had always been completely honest with her, he had never lied to her ... and now it was her turn. Daenerys could no longer hold back her innermost desires, being so close to him hurt her heart too much. “I...” she began, stammering, before swallowing, gathering her strength and regaining her courage. “I like the way you touched me.”
He asked his next question quickly, far too quickly, as if he had already expected her words. “Do you want me to touch you again?”, Jon offered and the young Targaryen nodded sheepishly as heat gathered inside her. She had never been touched before, not like this, not ever. She was completely pure and although she knew it would only be a one-off, that it couldn't bring anything good, she wanted it. So much.
Why would someone like Jon Snow, of all people, one of the most popular guys in school...who could have just about anyone, desire her. He was her friend, her very best friend, who always cared about her, who always made her feel seen and heard, a feeling no one else in the world gave her, and yet the silver haired maiden knew he would never want anything sexual with her ... she was just far too uptight for that – and if she trusted her own destructive thoughts, far too unattractive as well. The bittersweet thought that she would be allowed to taste the sweetest delicacy of all, only to be denied it for the rest of her life, hurt, even brought tears to her otherworldly eyes, and yet Daenerys couldn't help herself.
Jon took a deep breath, almost as if he had to keep himself under control, yet it was she who was almost going crazy here. “You should say it ...”, he finally demanded of her, his words so quiet and yet echoing. “I want you to be clear about what you want.” Damn it, why did he have to be so perfect, so concerned about her well-being. Why couldn't he just be like a fuckboy, taking advantage of her and her almost obsessive affection for him, at least this once. “I want you to touch me again.”, Daenerys admitted meekly, more to herself than to the boy in front of her. Jon rose from his bed and her eyes followed his movements upwards... an all too familiar position for her, as she always looked up at him. As if it were the most normal thing in the world, he suddenly went down on his knees in front of her. His hands gripped the wooden frame of the bed to the right and left of her short legs, his fingers slipping between the mattress and the support.
Caged in like this, the Targaryen instantly began wringing her sweaty hands before her, worrying her lower lip, already questioning her decision from earlier, that led her utter these words. Jon’s cold grey eyes traced her every movement, as her body twitched with nervousness. “Now Dany, I’ll need to know a little more about you. Since I want to give you the very best orgasm that you’ve ever had in your entire life.” His considerate words sent another wave of nervousness through Daenerys, while her body chuckled darkly. “Which will be a really easy feat, considering I’ve never had one …”
Jon looked actually startled at that remark. “You haven’t? Truly? Have you never even pleasured yourself?” Beginning to blush red underneath his scrutiny and the turn his questions were taking, Dany shifted a little bit further away from him on her comfy bed, an unsettling feeling momentarily outweighing the calmness that he typically invoked in her. “Well, yes, I have. I just somehow haven’t gotten to … that.”, the young girl confessed quietly.
Jon stared at her, seeming to be lost for words for a long moment. But then his whole energy changed. “Where can I touch you, princess?”, he asked, his voice hoarse with desire, a realization that made her skin tingle. “Everywhere...”, she replied breathlessly. “I want you, Jon please.” His knuckles turned white, and his grip on the wood tightened. “You're going to tell me to stop ... if I go too far?” The young Targaryen didn't know how he could go too far. She wanted those big hands all over her, but she didn't tell him that, far too ashamed of her own sinful desires. She could only nod, and somehow his fingers pressed even harder against the wood. “You have to say it, sweetie!”, he demanded of her, his voice sounding almost pained. “I ... I'm going to tell you to stop.”, she stammered helplessly, not knowing exactly what those words meant.
“Good girl!” Jon praised, making butterflies dance in her stomach. His grip loosened before his hand moved to her knee. “Here okay?”, asked the boy who alone owned her heart as his strong fingers traced patterns on the denim of her jeans that led to her inner thigh. But he paused when Daenerys remained silent and lost herself in the touch. “Yes!”, she blurted out, remembering that he wanted to hear her. “Go on...PLEASE!”, the teen pleaded, she had never begged anyone else for anything in her life, only her mother and of course Jon Snow.
“And if you want me to stop ...”, he began, his fingers moving to the top of her thighs, “... what will you say to me then?”. Jon was driving her absolutely crazy. Every single word he uttered only left her more confused, why would she want him to stop, he to whom she had lost her heart so many years ago. “Stop?” Dany suggested. Jon smiled at her before leaning closer and whispering in her ear. “We should have something safer than that.”
Safer than 'stop', she thought about his words, realizing that he intended to go far tonight if he meant for them both to have something like a Safeword... the idea was so ludicrous to the young girl that she couldn't suppress a soft innocent giggle. When they were younger, shortly after she had moved to Winterfell with her mom and had been instantly befriended by Jon, he had suggested such a word to her. At the time, it was so that whenever she didn't feel completely comfortable around his friends, she could say the word without anyone but Jon understanding the meaning and he could make up an excuse to leave with her... so they could both be alone and he could focus on her alone.
Dracarys, had been their word back then and as much as Dany was shocked by the sudden realization of how far Jon seemed willing to go with her, she felt just as safe with her best friend, since she realized that all his asking, all his hedging, something that had only made her more insecure in her naivety and inexperience, was solely to make sure that she would not regret what was to happen in the coming minutes. From one moment to the next, her last doubts were suddenly gone and Daenerys knew that this was what she wanted ... with him. She had no experience, was completely pure, having grown up completely sheltered, but she knew how this boy in front of her made her feel.
It was absolutely clear that her body wanted him. Her underwear was already soaked from her arousal, and her bra felt too tight for her small breasts, her rock-hard nipples pressing against the fabric, rubbing against it. And the rest of her wanted him too – the six-year-old girl who had fallen in love with his kindness, and the teenager who needed someone to hold her in difficult situations... Jon had always been there for her, from her first day in Winterfell going forward. He had never asked for anything in return, even though he could have spent his time with so many more interesting people, but none of that mattered at that moment ... all her trivial doubts slowly faded away.
Behind his intensity and stern demeanor, Jon made her feel safe, and Dany didn't want to let him go, not now, not ever. “Dracarys!”, she finally muttered. “If I want you to stop, I'll say Dracarys.”, she declared fiercely, despite her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. Without knowing exactly what she was doing, simply following her own feminine instincts, the young Targaryen spread her legs a little as a further invitation. Not as exaggerated as some bitches would do when Jon was kneeling in front of them, but just the slightest bit. Barely enough for Jon to notice her movement and recognize her intention.
He did not hesitate. Jon leaned forward slowly to kiss her as his fingers pressed hard against her most intimate part, separated only by two layers of cotton. Dany gasped, but the sound was lost in the kiss. Their lips melted together, her very first kiss. It was messy, wet, full of spit and if she'd only had a moment to think, Daenerys would have been sure she'd just embarrassed herself all the more and disappointed Jon with her lack of talent. But she didn't come to that, Jon simply didn't let her get that far.
His left arm moved away from the edge of his bed to wrap around her petite physique from behind and pull her closer, while his fingers rubbed against her jeans, right above her clitoris. Her body trembled and she had to hold on to his shirt to steady herself.
He kept up the rhythm until she turned against his hand. Only then did he break away from their kiss, but his talented fingers continued to create friction, melting her mind. To top it off, Jon whispered in her ear, “Can you come like this, sweety?” and his words made her head spin. “I... I don't know.”, she whimpered sheepishly, completely at his mercy. It was always so exhausting with her fingers; she herself had tried several times to achieve what all the other girls at school were talking about but had never managed it. However, the pressure Jon exerted was pushing her so easily towards the edge, to the edge of something she'd never felt before, without his fingers even being inside her. “I'm ... oh ... I'm close.”, she confessed meekly, unaware of the satisfaction she was giving Jon with her breathless comments.
The dark-haired boy next to her kissed the shell by her ear, his sinful words making her head spin even more. “If I asked you to come for me – just like that – would you?” Daenerys turned so that her eyes met his. “Yes!”, she confessed, knowing she couldn't refuse him – not when he held her so firmly.
And she didn't want to deny him either. Daenerys wanted to peak for him as often as he wanted to provide her that feeling. Jon smiled teasingly at her. “Then come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch you.” His magical fingers moved at that moment, somehow caressing her at the perfect angle, with just the right amount of pressure. She couldn't hold back the pleasure that coursed through her, swallowing her whole.
The sensation of having her bundle of nerves rubbed, even if only through the layers of clothing that hid her from his view, made Dany arch up even more and a moment later she saw what looked like tiny stars explode behind her inner eyes. Meanwhile, her core sent forth a spark of pleasure so great it was encompassing her whole body from the soles of her feet to the tips of her hairs before it gradually released.
Breathing heavily, she fell back against the mattress behind her, only being marginally aware that Jon had withdrawn his finger and was leaning back now, staring at her with an open mouth that turned into a full-fledged grin as she met his gaze. “Congratulations … you’ve just had your first orgasm.”, his praise was more of a tease, but in her current state nothing could ever deter Dany.
She giggled as she looked at him, sitting so composed between her spread legs, not a single dark hair out of place. But her joy was diminished the next moment when she realized that he hadn’t even been close to coming. She frowned, wondering what he would ask her to do in exchange for her own climax. “So, what about you?”, she piped up, but before her nerves had any chance coming back at her, Jon shook his head. “Maybe next time.”, he told her, shrugging the question off.
Daenerys didn't remember Jon lifting her into his arms after that, but she soon came to, only to realize that he had laid down on the soft bed with her safe in his arms. He enveloped her like a cocoon while his eyes stared and scrutinized her uninterruptedly. Protected and yet so exposed at the same time, the denim of her yeans displaying a huge dark spot, Dany felt incredible shy under the devouring gaze of her beloved. She wondered whether she should ask him questions. Thoughts raced through her mind until he finally silenced her by speaking.
“You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.”, he whispered as his large hand stroked her ribcage, just below her covered breasts. But the only things Dany could think about were the old clothes she was wearing, the prudish underwear you'd expect to see on a single forty-year-old rather than a young teenager, the messy bun on her head that she hadn't fixed after the rain, and numerous other flaws ... her flat, small breasts, her petite bottom and her generally very small size. “You can't be serious.”, she protested weakly. But Jon only pressed her head against his chest. His hand in her silver hair.
She could hear his heartbeat, feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took, feel his left hand stroking her back. Daenerys had fallen asleep before a single question crossed her lips.