Chapter Text
The candles burned brightly in their chambers, dusk had just arrived.
Regretfully, Jon rose from the bed and padded to the basin, taking a moment to clean himself before searching for his trousers. He located them quickly, pulling them on and then turning, taking in the lovely sight of his wife still lounging in their bed, her body nude and exposed for his pleasure.
A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight. He didn't think it was one he would ever get used to, but he was grateful all the same. Grateful they had both survived, that their child would be born, and with the wars won they would have time to grow together. Instead of spending his days and nights with Robb and his mother, war planning and training their men, his time could now be dedicated to his wife. The thought excited him and they had already taken full advantage.
The war was over. Roose Bolton had been captured alive and his punishment was set for tonight. Once the deed was done, their people could begin to move forward as well.
It had taken just over a moon to arrange the details, as recovery and rehabilitation of the castle needed to be prioritized. Bolton banners were torn from the walls and replaced with Stark ones, the rightful ones. Chambers were restored, blood cleaned from the walls. There had been a massacre.
Jon wished Roose had been executed without delay, but Robb decided it would be best to hold a trial, to do things the right way, even if Roose’s guilt was already known to all. The trial itself was quick, ending with Robb sentencing Roose to death.
Not all of the Boltons would die though, a mistake in Jon's opinion. Roose's trueborn son, Domeric Bolton, would be spared. He had sworn fealty to Robb and would return to the Dreadfort, to rule as Robb's vassal under the careful watch of their uncle Benjen.
Jon did not agree with letting any Boltons live, but he could agree that enough people had already died in the senseless fighting. In the end, Jon supported his king's decision. The North needed to retain numbers – loyal numbers. Domeric was said to be reasonable, unlike his bastard brother.
The thought of Ramsay filled him with rage. Ramsay Snow had managed to escape – to flee during the battle. His current whereabouts were unknown, but Jon knew they would find him eventually and when they did, Jon would execute him personally.
Ramsay and his dogs had taken him by surprise in the tunnels, resulting in a gruesome injury to his arm that had yet to heal. Flesh tore from bone, but in the end, the direwolves saved him – Ghost and Nymeria specifically. The pain that seared through his body was something Jon would never forget and he was always bear a scar, but he would recover and when he did, he would take his revenge.
The fear in Dany's eyes when she’d seen him arrive back at camp, bloody and disfigured, still haunted him. He could easily remember how she would not leave his side those first few days, not even to rest. His wife was stubborn to a fault. When his fever passed, she finally relented, resting for the sake of their unborn child.
Jon was interrupted from his thoughts when he noticed Dany sitting up on the bed, the fur falling from her legs as her arms outstretched over her head. Jon could not tear his eyes away, something his wife was acutely aware of as she shot him a cheeky smile.
“You're staring.” She observed plainly, lowering her arms. One hand came to rest on the bed, to steady herself, while the other came to rub her stomach affectionately. Jon’s eyes did not move from her stomach.
He could not wait to become a father. It was not something he thought would happen so soon, or ever, but he was glad for it. He wanted this life with Dany. Since he laid eyes on her, she made him want for more, even if he didn't realize it immediately. He could already imagine Robb granting them a keep of their own keep and ruling together with a pack of children, if she was willing, of course.
He prayed childbirth would not be too difficult for her, but he knew it was never easy. Dacey had recalled the horrors to him plenty of times with his mother agreeing.
There's a reason I only did it once, his mother liked to tease but Jon knew there was more to it behind her teasing. Even as an adult he could still recall the fighting that used to occur between her and her late husband. Of how he demanded an heir from her, how much he disliked him. Jon thought he might kill him, yet it never happened.
“Aye.” He finally replied as he finished dressing, careful not to agitate his injured arm. He circled the bed and leaned down, placing a gentle but lingering kiss on Dany's lips. “I cannot get enough of you.”
A light blush spread across her cheeks and it only endeared him more to her. She had come to him, seduced him – rather boldly, he might add – and yet she still blushed like a maiden when he complimented her. She was certainly no maiden now, he made sure of that. They had seen every part of each other, explored each other's bodies in full, yet in many ways they were still strangers. The language barrier had proved more difficult than Jon believed it would, but Dany was a quick learner, picking up more of the Old Tongue each day.
She pressed their lips together once more, biting his bottom lip as he pulled away to stand back up. Jon sucked in a sharp breath, calming his body. His seed still leaked from her cunt and there was simply no time for more of that. They had an execution to attend.
“Are you coming tonight?” Jon asked.
He was unsure if she should come, though he already knew what her answer would be. Hiding away was not in her nature. If there was anything he had learned about his wife in these few months, it was that she was determined to fit in, to become one of them. Dany was determined to immerse herself in their culture.
It made him proud and relieved him. He decided long ago that he needed to learn nothing about his father or that part of his heritage, so to see her so easily accept the North calmed him. It would be difficult if she wanted him to honor both sides. While he did not equate her to her brother, he did not like to think about it more than necessary.
Her eyes fell for a moment. Jon understood why. The execution would be long and arduous, painful to watch even. He did not think she had seen anything as bloody as what was to come. Dany considered his question a moment longer, her eyes finally lifting back up, meeting him with her ever growing confidence.
“Yes.”
He responded with a firm nod, taking her hand and helping to lift her from their bed. He kissed her again, lingering only a moment before his lips traveled to her forehead, placing another gentle kiss there. They stayed that way for a minute, simply savoring the quiet peace of their chambers.
After one last moment, he pulled away, searching for her hastily discarded clothes. Jon located each item and picked them up before standing before her.
He could not stop his eyes from appreciating her body again – he would never get enough – and he gently cupped her stomach before he rubbed, finding the act soothing. He still worried for Dany, but it was good to expose her to this. This was part of their lives, the way of the North. Roose Bolton deserved to die and he earned the Blood Eagle as his punishment. Jon would be glad when it was over.
His mother had not so subtly offered to do it for Robb, knowing this task was not easy, but Robb was too prideful and needed to show that he was a capable leader. That the blood of Brandon Stark ran through his veins, as did his strength. This was his moment and he would not let anyone else do it for him. Besides, Brandon was his father and it was his life, and the life of his child, at stake. The Boltons would have killed him and his son – all of them – if they had the chance. He did not take it lightly.
Dany's hand covered his, resting gently there and guiding them to where the babe was currently pushing, or rolling perhaps. The movement was not as hard as a kick, yet still strong enough to feel. Jon smiled, stealing a glance at Dany. She was smiling too.
When the baby's movements stilled, Jon removed his hands and lifted her shift above her head, pulling it down gently while she put her arms through the sleeves.
Their eyes connected, small smiles emerging from both at the intimate gesture. It had been like this since the battle, since his near death experience. They were taking no moments for granted, reveling in the truth that they were alive and together.
Jon was unfamiliar with this softer side of himself. He did not know he had the ability to be a caretaker but he found he enjoyed it, at least when it came to Dany. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her.
Once her shift settled on her body, Jon guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. Dany complied easily, quickly understanding his intentions. As he grabbed her underskirt, she lifted her legs first, and then her hips, allowing him to pull it on all the way. He pushed the bottom of the skirt up around her waist, grabbing her stockings next.
Jon's fingers softly traced her legs, feeling the smoothness of her skin. There were methods in the South he had been unaware of to remove hair and despite her growing belly, Dany was nothing if not consistent with this practice. He did not mind either way but he could not lie that found he enjoyed her smooth skin. Unable to stop himself, Jon began to pepper playful kisses up her leg. Dany began to giggle, trying to squirm from his hold.
"Your beard tickles!" She giggled. Jon did not understand her words exactly, though he had a feeling he knew what she was saying. As if to make a point, he rubbed his beard on her inner thighs, causing her to gasp. She tried to close her legs but he held her firmly, maintaining playful eye contact despite the other thing this made him want to do.
Slowly, he made his way back down her body, leaving lingering kisses before he put her stocking on. Dany continued to giggle despite the tickles ceasing and Jon thought he had never heard a more beautiful sound.
Once finished, he helped her stand again, stealing a quick peck before he grabbed one of the looser dresses Sansa had worked on for her. This one fit over her growing bump and had become one of her favorites. It was a deep red, cut in the Northern fashion and embroidered with the Targaryen sigil. Two black panels were added to the sides, these with the Stark sigil. Combined with her cloak, Dany truly looked as though she belonged in the North.
Jon pulled the dress over head and waited for her arms to slip through the sleeves before pulling it down and smoothing out the fabric.
"You look beautiful." Jon told her, pushing a stray strand of her silver spun hair behind her ear, earning a grin from Dany. She twirled around to show off the dress before her hands came to rub the fabric over her stomach. The ruby red ring he had gifted her caught the candlelight, stealing his attention. He knew how special the ring was, not only had he gifted it to her but the stone had once belonged to her mother.
Dany sat at the vanity in their chamber, her fingers working quickly to braid her hair. Jon took the seat next to her, simply admiring her as she finished readying herself. He would offer to help but he had learned he was much better at removing her braids than putting them in.
It did not take her long to fix her hair, and when she stood, Jon stood with her.
"Are you sure about this? You can still say no." Jon told her, but she met him with fire in her eyes.
She slipped the silver Stark band on her wrist, the one that matched his. "I can handle it."
Walking arm in arm, Dany entered the courtyard with Jon. The area had already been set up for tonight’s punishment, tension thick in the air. Countless torches lined the area, providing just enough lighting for all to witness what was to come. Though the Northerners were all excited to see Roose Bolton executed, the method was quite extreme and a general feeling of excitement and nerves were palpable.
“What is a blood eagle?” Dany asked Jon as they supped with Lyanna, Satin, and Ser Barristan the night prior. She'd never heard that term in the South. While her own family had a history with cruel methods of execution, Rhaegar had limited himself to quick and painless executions. Beheadings, that was. It was all she had heard of and Rhaegar made it a point to keep her away from them.
“Is e peanas air leth sònraichte a th’ ann.” Jon spoke, but she did not understand his words.
Out of habit, her eyes instantly shot to Satin, who smiled in understanding. “It is a very special punishment.” He lifted his chin, indicating for Jon to continue.
Dany sensed some frustration from Jon, a huff escaping him. He wanted to be the one to speak to her, but it had only been a few months. He could not expect her to know every word of the Old Tongue just yet. She did have most the basics down, enough to get by, but it had already proved more complicated than she imagined to have an actual conversation with her husband.
Jon let it go, not arguing further as he continued to speak while Satin translated.
“It is a punishment reserved for those who have especially angered the gods. Roose Bolton killed Brandon Stark in a dishonorable manner, as was agreed upon at his trial. He will have this one opportunity to atone.”
Dany's throat bobbed as she nodded, looking at Jon. “What will happen?”
Jon's eyes flickered to Lyanna, who took over speaking. Lyanna glanced at Ser Barristan first before her gaze trapped Dany.
“Roose will get down on his knees and his back will be opened with knives.” She began, and Dany already felt uncomfortable. Her hand found Jon's and he gave her a reassuring squeeze under the table, but she did not look away. She learned quickly these Northerners respected strength and she would need to do her best to fit in – to be like them. They revered Lyanna and Jon by extension. She could not be a weak and spoiled princess married to a Stark, not if she was to survive here.
Lyanna continued. “And then, with axes, his ribs will be chopped away from his spine.” She demonstrated the action of pulling them apart with her fingers. “His lungs will be pulled out and laid atop his shoulders so they look like the folded wings of a great eagle.”
Dany knew her eyes were wide, stunned by the details of the ritual. She turned to look at Jon, to see his reaction but he was stoic as ever. Ser Barristan caught her eye, studying her intently. Her brave knight worried for her, though he would never say it. She then looked at Satin, who looked almost apologetic.
Satin fascinated her. A Southern man, kidnapped by Northerners who adapted to their culture, and when he had the chance to stay in the South – to return home – he refused. It gave Dany hope that she too would adapt.
“If he suffers in silence, the Old Gods will accept him and he will atone for his crimes. But if he screams…” Lyanna paused dramatically, her brow raising. “Then the Old Gods will reject him for eternity.”
“That sounds horrible.” Dany could not stop the words from spilling from her lips.
“It is.” Lyanna agreed firmly, a calm look in her eyes. “But it is our way. And it must be done.”
Dany's eyes slowly traveled to the raised platform sitting in the center of the courtyard. It was raised so all would be able to witness. Upon it stood a small table, set up with a few knives and two axes. Two sticks protruded from the ground and through the platform where Roose's hands would rest during the ritual, but there was nothing more. Robb stood at the ready, dressed in a simple linen shirt and breeches. Dressed as an executioner tonight – not a king.
She turned back around, the reality of the situation overtaking her, and caught Jon studying her closely, his brow furrowed in concern. His hands came to hold the sides of her face, gently stroking with his thumb. “You do not have to watch.”
“I do.” Dany replied seriously. “I am your wife. I must show strength.”
Jon chuckled as he placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “You are strong.”
Dany lifted herself on her tippy toes to kiss him, a kiss he returned before they took their places next to Lyanna, Ned, Benjen and the rest of the Stark family. She was flanked by Jon and Ser Barristan. Dacey also stood with them, though her son was not present, and Wynafryd Manderly stood alongside her. Wynafryd and Robb were to marry in a fortnight. After all of this was behind them, a celebration was in order and the Manderlys wanted to claim their reward.
Learning that Robb was taking two wives surprised Dany. She knew of his infidelities, knew it was accepted in their culture, but taking another wife was no small matter. Jon explained that it was necessary – that the Manderly's supplied the coin and extra troops they needed to take back their home and Lord Manderly would accept no less than a Stark in exchange.
It should have been him, she realized. Bran and Rickon were too young. He was supposed to marry Wynafryd but had instead defied his King and chosen her.
She felt overwhelmed with guilt initially. Guilt that she had played a part in hurting her new friend by disrupting Robb's plans. Dacey had been accepting of her from the start and had only ever treated her with kindness.
Still, she did not regret her decision and learning that Jon chose her in spite of his duty to his family only made her realize how deep his love for her ran. She was more than just the mother of his soon to be born child. Their love was true.
Whenever her guilt bubbled up, Dany reminded herself that she had no intention of marrying Jon when they slept together the first time. She simply wanted a choice in the matter.
She still longed for her home sometimes, for the warmth of King's Landing or the cool ocean breeze of Dragonstone. For her brothers, her good sister, her nephew, and even her niece. But now that they had a castle and their own rooms, perhaps this place would begin to feel like home. And when their baby was born, that was when she would feel whole again.
The sound of chains dragging caught her attention and silenced the crowd. Stark soldiers dragged Roose Bolton to the platform. He was dressed only in breeches, already prepared. They would waste no time tonight.
Robb Stark stood, waiting. He looked strong and prepared, but Dany knew he was nervous. Though she and Jon had spent the evening together, Jon had been helping prepare Robb for days now.
It was no easy thing to execute someone like this, he told her. You Southerners use executioners, keep yourself distanced from the actual act of taking a life, but here in the North, he who passes the sentence swings the sword.
As the guards pulled Roose to the platform, Dany could see his façade cracking. Could see the fear in his eyes when he met Robb's hard stare. Roose was a cold, stoic man. She witnessed as he sat through his entire trial showing little to no emotion. The few times he spoke, he was soft spoken, but his eyes were always cruel. It seemed now that his reckoning was here, the gravity of it sank in.
“Any last words?” Robb asked loudly, for all to hear.
Roose held his stare but shook his head, declining to speak.
Robb simply nodded, tilting his head to wooden stakes. Roose eyed them, unmoving, seemingly rooted in place.
Robb waited a moment, giving him time to get into position. It was a kindness he did not deserve.
Jon had told her he believed Roose would fight it. She felt his body tense and she knew he wanted to help Robb, but he could not. This was Robb's duty and his alone.
When Roose still did not move, Robb lightly shoved him in the direction and pushed him onto his knees. He whispered something into his ear but Dany could not hear it. She simply watched as Roose lifted his arms, putting each one in the holder. Sweat had begun to bead at his forehead and if she was not mistaken, he was lightly shaking.
She watched as Robb's eyes traveled to his wife. Dacey nodded and that seemed the final push Robb needed to begin. From what Jon had explained, their marriage was arranged but they had fallen in love. Jon believed they truly loved one another and gave each other strength. They were well matched, even in spite of their current issues.
Robb lifted the knife, inspecting it one last time before he turned swiftly and stuck it in Roose's back. Roose groaned, biting his lip to not scream but somehow managed to keep his composure. Dany could not look away and all she saw was fear in the older man's eyes. His head turned in the direction of his son, Domeric, who had a pained expression on his own face.
Her grip on Jon's arm tightened as she realized this was happening, and although she could not look away, she suddenly wished they hadn't left the safety of their room.
Robb removed the knife from his back, but not before dragging it down. He tossed the bloody knife back on the table, wiping his brow, before grabbing the axe next.
Roose cried out at the first blow and a sudden hush overtook the yard, as they all realized what that meant.
Roose Bolton would not be accepted by the Old Gods.
He had failed.
As the realization hit him, he seemed to lose all composure. His arm fell from the holder, his instincts clearly telling him to get away. Robb remained calm. He simply stopped hacking at Roose's back and set the axe down, coming to squat in front of the man. Robb lifted Roose's arm and placed it back in the holder, staring at him for one extra moment before getting back to work.
This time, when the axe hit again, Dany found herself turning away. Her eyes searched the courtyard and landed on Roose's wife, Lady Walda Bolton, and Domeric. Walda was pregnant with Roose's child and Dany watched as the pregnant woman fainted, falling to the ground. Domeric tried to help her, probably preferring that to watching his father’s gruesome death.
It was then Dany noticed many of the onlookers had looked away as well. She was not alone. It was a truly horrible sight.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but suddenly Roose's screams ceased. An uneasy silence filled the area, aside from the sound of Robb hacking his back apart. Dany hesitantly glanced back to the gruesome scene to confirm her suspicions.
Roose was dead but Robb was still at work. He would not stop until the ceremony was complete. The first thing she thought when she looked at Robb was that he looked strong. His eyes were wild and blood spatters marked his face, but he did not look afraid.
Nausea crept up her throat, but she pushed the feeling down, turning and finding Lyanna Stark. Her eyes were glued to the scene before them, an approving glint in them. Dany was aware that she wanted to perform this ritual herself, had even offered to do it so Robb would not have to experience it, but Robb refused her offer.
That had set some of the Starks off. Cat had been thoroughly upset, shouting that Lyanna wanted her son's throne and was trying to make him look weak so the other families would support her instead. Lyanna, of course, denied it and Dany believed her. All Dany had witnessed was Lyanna's unyielding love and concern for her family. It was clear she only wanted to ease the burden for Robb and that she herself had no qualms performing this ritual. Lyanna feared nothing, a trait Jon had inherited.
Ned had been the one to calm the women down. He was close to both of them, as Lyanna loved her brothers. In her short time with the Starks, Dany had also learned that Cat trusted Ned more than anyone and they had a close relationship. Ned was married to a Karstark woman but sometimes Dany wondered if there was something more between the two. Perhaps Cat saw her dead husband in Ned and found a comforting presence there.
She felt Jon's hand upon her cheek, lightly turning her to face him, bringing her back to the present. Much like his mother, he had not looked away once. Dany was unsure if it scared or impressed her.
Impressed her, she decided. Her husband was strong and brave, of course he could stomach this.
He did not speak, but his eyes held a silent question. He wanted to know if she was alright still. It was only then she realized how tightly she had been gripping his good arm.
She nodded her head, trying to reflect strength in her own eyes, but when the sound of bones cracking filled the air, she briefly lost her composure. Jon quickly grasped the back of her head, pulling her to his chest in a comforting gesture.
At least it was a sign that this was almost over.
Dany clung to Jon, his scent filling her senses. Dany craved his smell and it seemed their child did too, because the baby chose that moment to begin to kick wildly. He was always excited when Jon was around, waking to kick as soon as he heard his father's voice.
Dany stayed buried in Jon's chest for the rest of the execution, choosing to focus on that for the rest of the execution. Her family, her love, and her future.
The candles in their chambers had long burned out, the only source of light a small beam from the moonlight lingering outside their window.
It was the hour of the wolf and the entire castle was still. Dany lay in Jon's arms, desperately trying to find sleep. For once, it was not the baby bothering her, but her own mind. She could not stop replaying the execution, the brutality of it setting in and certain realities becoming more obvious.
It wasn't that she pitied Roose Bolton – she did not. He brought this upon himself and he earned his death, earned the retribution of the Starks, but now she worried for her own family.
His bastard son escaped and another would be returned to his family's castle in exchange for fealty. The men who had fought with the Boltons marked with their shame but let free again. Dany had little experience with these things, but should they not have all died?
Why leave them alive? It left them an opportunity for them to seek revenge.
What if they hurt Jon because of his relation to Robb? What of her own self and her child?
Rhaegar was a good king. His people loved them and he had firm control of his lords. Could the same be said of Robb Stark? The Boltons were able to overthrow them once. Who was to say it would not happen again?
A frustrated huffed escaped her and she was acutely aware of the change in Jon's breathing next to her.
She had woken him up.
His hand reached out blindly, immediately finding her stomach and rubbing. Unable to stop herself, her hand covered his. She entwined their fingers and squeezed, desperate for connection.
Jon's nose nuzzled into her hair, his voice thick with sleep. "Everything alright?"
A quick shake of her head had him bolting into action, sitting up and studying her with a worried gaze. "The babe?"
Her eyes widened. The thought had not even crossed her mind. Quickly, she shook him off. "No." She huffed again, at a loss for the right words to speak.
Jon's body visibly relaxed and he laid down again, wrapping his arms around her. She was happy they could do this again now that his arm had healed more. Talisa, a healer from Essos, had shown her how to wrap his arm in a way that he could tolerate holding her again at night. Just being in his arms brought her a semblance of peace and she was grateful for it.
Dany inhaled slowly. She trusted her husband completely and he trusted Robb. That was enough to ease her concerns, right?
His lips found her shoulder and he laid a few soft kisses there before changing his mind and urging her to sit. Dany's lips curved into a smile when he sat back against the headboard and pulled her between his legs, understanding his intention. She situated herself until she was comfortable, her hands resting on his knees as she laid her back against his chest, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck.
The memory of the first time Jon did this filled her mind. She had not yet learned she was with child but was feeling the symptoms. She felt quite terrible and Jon did this then, comforting her the only way he could. She loved it then and she loved it now.
Once settled, Jon's fingertips began to lazily trace her arms, the sensation causing her entire body to break out in goosebumps. His hands slowly moved from her arms to her stomach, tracing circles into her skin, before moving up to her breasts. Gently, he cupped each breast and then allowed his fingers to circle her nipples. She was extremely sensitive but this felt so good and a light moan escaped her lips. Before he got too carried away, his fingers were trailing up her neck, scratching her scalp ever so lightly.
Her eyes fluttered shut and Dany felt her body relax, allowing his imitate touches to soothe her.
Jon continued his ministrations and though she found she could easily fall asleep now, she wanted more. Jon would never push her, that wasn't what this was about, so she would need to show him what she wanted.
The next pass he made at her breasts, she covered his hand with hers and squeezed. Her message could not be any clearer and yet he waited until she repeated her actions, more aggressively this time.
He tilted her chin up, their noses bumping as their mouths connected in a sensual kiss. Her mouth opened, allowing him access as he thrust his tongue inside to meet her tongue. His grip on her chin shifted, his hand cupping her cheek as he pulled her further into him.
He was already hard, she had felt it the entire time as some things could not be avoided, but now his length seemed to poke into her back aggressively.
She turned in his arms, pushing him down to lay flat on their bed, and then lay beside him, not ready for their kisses to cease quite yet. Their tongues continued to tangle, almost lazily as their breaths came in hotter and quicker. Dany felt her wetness growing, her need for him increasing, and whimpered when he sucked her tongue into his mouth.
Jon tore his lips away, his head dipping between her breasts and licking. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts into his face, begging him to suck. They had grown more sensitive, so sensitive she used to push his head away but now she had adjusted and craved his touch once more.
Jon's tongue circled her nipples before he began to place hot kisses around her peaks, giving her more but not quite what she needed. Finally, he took mercy on her and sucked her nipple into his mouth, his tongue laving it until the peak furled. Dany gripped his hair, holding him in place until he broke free and took her other nipple into his mouth, repeating his actions.
She could have come from that alone, the sensation so overwhelming. When Jon finally pulled back, they both admired his work, her nipples rosy and wet, furled out from his attentions.
Dany lightly pushed against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She grabbed his cock, taking a moment to enjoy the weight of him in her hand. She wanted to lean down and suck him into her mouth, but it was not possible with her stomach in the way.
Slowly, teasingly, she pumped his cock a few times, her thumb swiping over his leaking tip, earning grunts from him. She brought her thumb to her mouth and licked, savoring the salty taste of him. She did not plan to torture him long, but before she could mount him, Jon was taking matters into his own hands. He grabbed her hips firmly and pulled her up his chest.
Dany understood his intentions and did not hesitate to balance on her knees and straddle his mouth, and he did not hesitate to pull her down roughly. Jon did not waste a moment, separating her lower lips with his tongue, his nose bumping her clit. Dany gasped and ground herself on his mouth, but his hands stilled her.
He went to work quickly, his tongue dragging up and down her cunt before dipping inside of her, drawing out the juices he so craved. Jon did not hide how much he enjoyed her taste, how he claimed he could spend hours down there if only she would let him. Another moan left her lips as his tongue stiffened and pushed inside of her again, her hips beginning to rock against him. Her hands found balance on the headboard and soon she was riding his face shamelessly. This time, he allowed it. The lewd noises coming from their room should embarrass her but she did not care, not with how good it felt.
"Yes, Jon, yes!" Dany moaned when his tongue traveled lower, between her cheeks to clean the juices that were leaking from her, licking one long stripe up her cunt before bumping her clit. One of her hands tangled in his hair as she rode him, tugging firmly. He teased her first, nudging the sensitive nub between her legs with his tongue a few times. Dany was breathless, and Jon finally took mercy on her, wrapping his lips around her clit while he sucked and pulled at it.
Dany had lost complete control of herself. Her orgasm was building, it was so close she could feel herself ready to explode. She continued to grind on him, to chase the feeling she desperately craved. Finally, she exploded, a moan tearing from her throat.
Jon did not let up, he continued to lick and suck at her, lapping up her juices while she rode out her high. She was getting better at this, at letting him continue even after she had peaked. When it became too much she pulled off of him, flipping onto her hands and knees. As much as she wanted to face him, this position was just easier with her belly.
Jon followed wordlessly, settling on one knee behind her and pushing his cock inside of her tight channel. He slipped right in, his pace slow to begin while she adjusted to him.
Jon's hands traveled to her hips and pulled her into him, his pelvis slapping against her ass with every thrust. He built momentum, speeding up when she began to push back against him. Dany clutched the fur blankets in front of her, trying to hold herself up as he took her. It had taken him some time to take her like this once he found out she was with child. He did not want to hurt her or the baby, but she assured him it felt good and did not hurt. It seemed his worries were gone now, because now he took her without abandon.
It did not take much longer, both of them wound up from their foreplay. Jon grunted as he came, filling her with his seed, before he pulled out and flipped her again, the pad of his thumb coming to rub her sensitive nub. Jon inserted two fingers into her cunt and together, it was enough for her walls to clench around him again. He swallowed her cries with another kiss. Dany could not stop herself from licking inside his mouth, enjoying her own taste on him.
Jon stood from the bed and dipped a towel in the water basin, coming back to gently clean the mess between her legs. Dany's eyes tracked his every move, admiring his body in the moonlight. She was not sure there was a stronger or more beautiful man than her husband.
It did not take him long to finish cleaning her, and soon he was scooping her back into the safety of his arms.
"Jon." Dany spoke softly, unsure if he was even still awake.
"Hmm?" He responded, his shallow breaths in her ear.
"We're safe now, right?" She asked, hoping the words she had chosen were the right ones. It was much easier to understand when he spoke than it was for her to think of what to say.
Jon turned her on her back, his stormy gray eyes searching hers as his brow furrowed. "You are worried?"
Dany shook her head, not sure she was actually ready for this conversation this late. "No...just." She inhaled. "It's... It's nothing."
He did not look like he believed her.
"I will always protect you." He said firmly, his fingers gently stoking her cheek. "You are safe with me."
Dany nodded, accepting his kiss as he settled back behind her. She believed his words, she really did. Jon would do anything to protect her. She only hoped it was safe here in the North.