Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13184367.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A
      Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_&_Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Jon_Snow/Sansa_Stark, Catelyn_Stark/Ned_Stark_(background), Dacey
      Mormont/Robb_Stark
  Character:
      Jon_Snow, Sansa_Stark, Robb_Stark, Arya_Stark, Ned_Stark, Catelyn_Tully
      Stark, Bran_Stark, Rickon_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Seduction, Vaginal_Fingering, Blow_Jobs, Loss_of
      Virginity, Breast_Fucking, Dom/sub, Dark_Jon_Snow, Anal_Sex, Forced
      Masturbation, Cumplay, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Dirty_Talk, Jon_Snow_is_a
      Targaryen, Cousin_Incest, PWP, Porn_with_Feelings, eventually, starts_off
      as_filthy_revenge_fucking_though, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence,
      Jon_has_always_known_his_parentage, Targaryen_and_wolfsblood_make_Jon_a
      literal_horny_bastard, using_mirrors_for_kinks, Nipple_Play, First_Kiss,
      Manipulation, Anal_Play
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-28 Updated: 2018-02-19 Chapters: 4/? Words: 12395
****** I'm just an animal ******
by Queenofthebees
Summary
     So prim and proper, he thought with a scowl. Sansa was Lady Catelyn’s
     pride and joy. She raised Sansa to be loyal to her, to be a proper
     Lady and not spend time with her Targayen bastard of a cousin. At
     least Sansa didn’t seem to want Jon dead, unlike Catelyn who Jon felt
     would have his head for sneezing at the wrong time.
     I’ll give her a good reason to want me dead. She thinks I’ll take
     Robb’s or Bran’s or Rickon’s claims, she never thought of how much of
     a threat I could be to Sansa’s claim.
     How he’d love to have sweet, proper Sansa writhe and keen beneath
     him, beg for his touch, beg for her own ruin. And he would ruin her,
     over and over, in every way.
Notes
     Long overdue anonymous tumblr prompt response lol. Prompt was 'it was
     never her sons' claims Catelyn should have worried about - a
     Targaryen Jon, fully aware of his parentage and victim of both
     Lyanna's wolf blood and the Targaryen blood, seduces and ruins Sansa
     in revenge against Catelyn's treatment of him. Absolute filth
     please!" They wanted absolute filth, they got it :p
     For this, I went with canon divergence that Jon has always known and
     accepted his parentage and his Targaryen blood is more prominent as
     is his wolf blood hence a literal horny bastard :P. Lets not get too
     hung up on plot etc as this is mostly PWP. I just needed an excuse
     for Jon to be dark when he hasn't died. That darn Targaryen blood has
     its uses after all *shakes fist*
     This is going to be dark and filthy, heed the tags, you have been
     warned.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Jon gritted his teeth as he continued hammering his sword into the sack body in
front of him. Lady Catelyn had ordered him away from the feast, not wanting his
presence to shame her visiting family. It didn’t matter that he was not Ned
Stark’s bastard (at least as far as the Starks knew), he was still a bastard
who was living under her roof and, as far as she was concerned, planning to
steal her children’s’ rightful places.
He had no desire to take Robb’s place for he loved him dearly. He would never
wish harm on Robb or Bran or Rickon that would lead to himself becoming Lord of
Winterfell. The fact she could even think that he would want to take their
claims away from them made him livid.
But Catelyn would never acknowledge anything good Jon did. If he won in a
sparring match, she would glare but when Robb or Bran or Rickon beat each
other, she would clap and congratulate each of them, even the one who lost,
encouraging them to keep practicing. When Robb first wrote his name at four,
Catelyn had pulled him onto her lap and kissed his cheek, whispering how proud
she was of him. Jon had learned to write his name four weeks before and she had
pretended not to have noticed. When Rickon brought Sansa flowers from the
Godswood, Catelyn praised her son for his thoughtfulness even though Ned had
said the Godswood was too sacred a place to pick flowers from. When Jon had
supported Sansa’s wish to have a few extra lemons ordered for her one and two
name day celebrations, despite her father saying it could not be justified with
the finances being as they were, Catelyn had accused him of causing unnecessary
drama between Sansa and her parents.
A laugh cut through his thoughts and he turned to see Sansa and Jeyne Poole
crossing the courtyard, arms linked and heads bowed close together as they
whispered. Jon frowned. Sansa was the image of her mother, a true beauty with
her auburn hair and bright, wide blue eyes. Many Lords had already asked for
her hand but Ned had insisted she was too young still, despite her four and ten
name day passing days ago. Sansa at least acknowledged him, even if it was just
the word ‘cousin’ as she passed him in the corridors but Sansa’s courtesies
were merely just that as far as he was concerned. Still, at least she wasn’t
outright cruel. Just a spoiled Princess, Catelyn’s precious Lady of a daughter.
Sansa looked over then, her auburn hair shining like copper in the torchlight.
She stopped, causing Jeyne to look over and give him an accusatory stare.
“You should go inside Jon. It looks like we may have summer snows tonight,”
Sansa said. Jon shrugged and turned away, returning to take his anger out on
the dummy. He heard Sansa sigh before she urged Jeyne into the keep with her.
Jon let his sword drop, looking in the direction his cousin had disappeared in.
So prim and proper, he thought with a scowl. Sansa was Lady Catelyn’s pride and
joy. She raised Sansa to be loyal to her, to be a proper Lady and not spend
time with her Targayen bastard of a cousin. At least Sansa didn’t seem to want
Jon dead, unlike Catelyn who Jon felt would have his head for sneezing at the
wrong time.
I’ll give her a good reason to want me dead. She thinks I’ll take Robb’s or
Bran’s or Rickon’s claims, she never thought of how much of a threat I could be
to Sansa’s claim.
How he’d love to have sweet, proper Sansa writhe and keen beneath him, beg for
his touch, beg for her own ruin. And he would ruin her, over and over, in every
way.
Lady Catelyn would be so ashamed and that just seemed to make the image even
more sweet. To see Catelyn’s face when she caught Jon buried balls deep inside
Sansa, her precious Lady daughter begging for more of Jon’s fingers and cock.
He reckoned it would almost be worth the beheading she would surely demand.
It would almost be too easy. Sansa craved romance and was so sweetly naive to
the world, he could easily win her around and have her come to his bed. Her
confusion as she discovered her feelings for him, her innocent curiosity as she
caved in and told him that she needed him, that she wanted him. It would be so,
so sweet.
He could hardly be blamed really though for the way he was thinking. He was
thrice cursed after all. He had bastard blood, born of lust and a prisoner of
desire. He had inherited the wolfs blood from Lyanna, harsh and unyielding when
he had an idea in his head. And he had Targaryen blood in his veins too.
Targaryens with their lust and love for family members.
Sansa wouldn’t stand a chance.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Jon finally begins his seduction of Sansa.
Chapter Notes
     So...yeah not really smut smut in this chapter. Buuuuuut Jon does get
     Sansa all hot and bothered, and uses a mirror for kinks and giggles.
     Hooray!
     Lol I keep having to remind myself this is PWP, one part of me is
     screaming "But this makes no sense!" and the other is like "just bang
     already kids!" lol
He knew he had to get this just right.
Sansa could very well withdraw with confusion of his sudden interest in her
life. They had never been close and if he were to suddenly act as though they
were, she would tell someone that he was acting strange. She may even tell her
father and mother about it and he would be watched day and night, his chance
gone before he could even start. Jon had no doubt that Eddard Stark, as much as
he loved Jon like a son, was afraid of his Targaryen blood and Lyanna’s
wilfulness rearing its head. So far, Jon had managed to appear the dutiful,
loyal bastard ‘son’ he was meant to play, under nobody’s suspicion except Lady
Stark’s.
It would be frustrating for a while, especially when he thought of what he
would do to her once she willingly came to his bed. But, Sansa was naïve and
innocent, and could be seduced with the right approach.
He could wait a while, like a wolf going in for the kill.
                                      ***
He started by making sure he passed the sewing lessons every few days as they
were finishing. He kept them random to avoid any sudden curiosity and he would
ask if Sansa needed to be accompanied to her next destination. At first, Sansa
had been hesitant to accompany him, fearing her mother would see them. But
eventually, she had started to beam at him when he came passed the doors and
popped his head inside.
He had read a couple of her favourite stories in the library, memorised them
and then he would discuss them with her as they walked. When he first mentioned
her favourite pairings from history or the books, her eyes had lit up.
He had pretended to be embarrassed, asked her if they could discuss such things
privately to avoid the teasing from Robb and Theon. Sansa had bit her lip,
hesitant with her approval. Jon waited, and when she said yes, that they could
meet in the godswood, or perhaps even her chambers, he knew he was on the right
track.
He started reading lines of the book to her as they sat in her rooms, her
spread across her bed with her red hair fanned around her head as she sighed
dreamily. He started off in the chair by the fire but as the weeks went by, he
had started to sit by her in bed after she had given permission for such. He
would touch her hair, her hand and pull away as quickly.
He was so close, he could see it in her eyes, in the way her cheeks heated up
when he placed his hands on her. She was thinking about him, he knew it. Still,
it wasn’t quite enough, she wasn’t begging for him yet.
He would have to wait just a tiny bit longer.
                                      ***
Northern Lords had been sending ravens for months, trying to match their
daughters with Robb. Jon had listened to Robb talk about the matches, what he
had heard about the women and what Jon thought of it all. He had asked Jon if
he had any intention to marry to which Jon had snorted and denied such a
notion.
When speaking with Robb, he felt guilty about he was planning to do with Sansa.
Robb had never done Jon wrong, he was forever trying to defend Jon from
Catelyn’s wrath. But whenever he started to doubt what he was doing, Lady
Catelyn found another fault with something he had done and Jon, seething would
storm to his chambers and take his cock in hand, thinking about how one day, he
would have Sansa on her knees taking him, how he would bend her over the bed,
the desk and fuck her like a wolf in heat.
Eddard Stark was holding a feast for the Northern lords to attend with their
daughters, so Robb could meet them and perhaps come to show a liking to one.
And as it happened, it ended up being the perfect opportunity for Jon to up his
seduction of Sansa.
In his mind, he thanked Arya for her impulsiveness. She had taken Sansa’s dress
and twirled around the room with it, pretending to be a fawning maiden. Sansa
had yelled at her, chased her across the room and when she grabbed the dress,
Arya’s fingers had been holding too tightly and the dress had ripped.
Sansa had screamed at her sister, tears pouring down her cheeks at her ruined
dress, her favourite dress. Arya had apologised profusely, trying to ask what
she could do to make it better but Sansa had thrown the ruined garment at her
and told her to leave her alone.
When Arya had told Jon what she had done, Jon had assured her that Sansa would
calm down eventually, that he knew she hadn’t meant to hurt her sister but
perhaps she should let Sansa calm down for a while and apologise again later
when she had had a chance to sort herself out.
He had then gone to Sansa’s chambers, finding her sitting on the bed with the
dress over her lap and a hand over her eyes as she sobbed. She glanced up at
him in surprise when he entered, harshly wiping her eyes as he looked at her.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, moving to kneel before her. His hands
brushed her thighs briefly, enough for it to appear accidental before he placed
his palms on the bed on either side of her hips. She sniffed.
“You’ll take Arya’s side,” she muttered.
“I’m not taking any sides,” he replied, glancing at the dress. “Is it
unfixable?”
“Yes!” she snapped, eyes blazing. Jon felt his hand clench in the covers. When
she spoke like that to him, he was reminded just how very like her mother she
could be. For a split second, he pictured her face down on the bed as he
spanked her for her attitude. Gods, his patience was wearing thin now, the
wolfsblood howling through his veins.
Take her. Take her already!
But Jon wanted her to desire her own ruin, wanted her to beg for her bastard
cousin to ruin her first.
That didn’t mean he was just going to sit and stare at her though and wait. He
knew he had to start touching her more, get her mind thinking about him in such
a way. Over the time he has been spending with her, he has noticed her looks,
the way she bites her lips. There is attraction there, whether she recognises
it as such or not. It is enough for Jon to move on with his plans.
“You know,” he murmured softly, fingers tracing the material. “There are some
places in Essos where the fashion is to wear dresses that reveal a breast,
sometimes both.”
He had no idea if it were true or not. Sansa wouldn’t know either but more
importantly, she wouldn’t check. She glanced at him, her cheeks turning a
pretty pink colour. Jon smiled at the sight, wondering how often he would see
her cheeks colour in such away before she would come to accept the fact she
loved being treated so filthily.
He hoped her blushes would last a while. The thought of her shameful arousal as
he did all manner of things to her was ridiculously appealing.
“I doubt that would go down well with father,” she replied after a moment,
breaking Jon out of his thoughts to look at her. Jon hummed, a wolfish grin
spreading across his face.
“It would no doubt bring a handsome Northern lord forward though,” he quipped.
“All of them will be begging for your hand if they saw your lovely teats on
display.”
“Jon!” she screeched, her whole face heating up in shock of his words. But Jon
noticed she made no move to scramble away from him, made no indication that she
would call for someone and tell them about what her bastard cousin was saying.
He had to restrain his smile as he felt his lips twitch.
I almost have her.
“I hope to find myself a lovely girl at the feast too. Perhaps I will be lucky
enough to get a kiss,” he continued, moving to stand. Sansa blinked her wide
blue eyes and he smirked, seeing the unspoken desire and question burning
through the innocence of her stare. “Have you ever been kissed Sansa?”
She flushed, as he knew she would. She had never been left alone with a male
long enough for them to steal a kiss from her.
“No,” she affirmed, glancing away.
“Hmmm, that is a pity,” he sighed and she looked at him again. So close, he
almost has her. Just a little more pushing. “Perhaps we shouldn’t introduce you
to any Lords yet then.”
“Why?” she questioned, her head tilting to the side in puzzlement.
So innocent, Jon mused with mirth. She will be anything but when I’m through
with her.
“Well, you’ll need to know how to kiss your Lord husband, won’t you?” he said
casually.
“But how would I learn?” she asked.
“Practice I suppose,” he responded with a bored shrug. She stared at him and he
could tell she was on the very edge of asking him. He could see the want in her
eyes but the way she held back, those precious teachings of being a proper
lady, being chaste and virginal were fighting to stop her.
He waited.
“I don’t know who I would practice with,” she said softly after a moment, her
eyes darting down. “There is nobody I would trust not to run and tell father.”
He fell into the role easily enough, shifting guiltily as though the idea had
just occurred to him and he hadn’t been planning for this for over two moons.
“I could teach you,” he whispered gently, watching her eyes widen, those full
pink lips parting in a shuddering gasp. “I won’t tell anyone. You won’t tell
either, will you?”
She shook her head slowly. She looked so vulnerable and curious, a sweet little
thing that was his to take as he wished. He all but had her under his spell
now, all that was left was push her towards the edge, make her beg for him to
take her, make her his in every way.
He moved slowly, watching as her chest heaved from nerves. He wondered if her
breasts were as milky and smooth as the rest of her skin, wondered if they were
sensitive enough to have her writher from the slightest stroke. Gods, he
couldn’t wait to find out just how sweetly Sansa Stark would sing for him as
his fingers played with her body.
But for now, he had to pretend to not want this, had to make her come to him of
her own free will. Least then, he would have a defence when Catelyn accused him
of defiling her precious daughter. He would swear blind that Sansa begged for
it and she wouldn’t be able to deny it. Oh, the look on Catelyn’s face when he
would confess to all the things he will have done to Sansa by then. Sansa would
be lucky to be sent to the Silent Sisters, he thought amusedly, though there
would be absolutely no virtue of hers to save once he was through with her.
So, he gave a big sigh, pretending to hesitate as he sat beside her. He cupped
her cheek, stroking the soft, hot flesh. His thumb dropped down, stroking her
parted lips and he watched her eyes flutter close, that beautiful ivory skin
turning pink once more. Jon smirked at the sight.
She’ll be completely mine by the next moon.
He moved his thumb and pressed the briefest of pecks to her lips and then moved
back. He watched her open her eyes and regard him with confusion.
“You’ve had your first kiss now,” he teased. Her frown only deepened.
“Is that all it is?” she asked and he loves the disappointment in her voice for
it only reminds him of how innocent she is, how easy she will be to make his.
“No,” he replied huskily, tilting her chin up. “I’m just getting started
sweetling.”
He pressed another closed lipped kiss to her mouth, still not intimate but
enough pressure to have her curious. He moved back, chuckling darkly when her
head moved forward to chase him. Her eyes opened wide when he placed a hand on
her chest to stop her. He grinned at her horrified expression, no doubt she was
internally berating herself for acting so forward.
He put her out of her misery, hand moving to her neck and bringing her forward
to meet his mouth once more. But this time, he doesn’t hold back. He pulled on
her bottom lip, her startled gasp sending his blood straight to his cock. He
pressed his lips harder against hers, taking advantage of her surprise and
slipping his tongue past her lips. She moaned, a low questioning sound but he
heard it all the same, the same as he felt her hesitant fingers clutch at the
hem of his tunic.
She’s practically mine already.
He pulled back, relishing in her needy whimper and the way her eyes had
darkened. He stared at her lips, swollen from his attentions and he thought of
how lovely they will look around his cock when he finally gets her to do such a
thing.
“I…I don’t…” she started, fingers tracing her lips as she blinked at him in
confused, shameful arousal.
“We shouldn’t have,” he replied gently, standing. He paused at the door turning
to her. “I am sorry Sansa. I should not have gotten so carried away.”
“No,” Sansa said immediately, letting her hand drop from her face as she looked
over to him. “No, I…I shouldn’t have asked you to.”
“Did you like it?” he pressed, desperate to make her admit her desires, the way
she is starting to feel towards him. He is desperate for her to be in his bed
now, he hasn’t even been with anyone else in weeks as all he can think about is
all the things he will do to her.
He thinks about her pleasuring him, sucking his cock until he cums down her
throat, thinks of fucking her teats and spilling his seed across her and he
thinks about what her cunt will feel like when he takes her maidenhead.
But he thinks about how sweet it will be to give her pleasure of her own too.
He will focus on her first, play with her breasts, her cunt, her ass until she
is moaning and begging, desperate to be taken and filled. He’ll spread her legs
and devour her cunt with his own tongue and relish the sweet sounds of shameful
arousal she will sing for him, relish how her cheeks will light up with her
shame as she pleads for her release.
“Yes,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.
“I liked it too,” he said, making sure to look straight at her. “But we can’t
Sansa, we can’t.”
But we will, we will.
“I know,” she shuddered, looking away from him as he went to open the door. He
barely bites back the smile as she calls his name, turning to look at her. “Can
I…can we dance tonight?”
He smiled, knowing Sansa would take it as a sign of his consent. But he was
smiling because she had placed the final piece in place.
                                      ***
Lady Catelyn’s eyes are boring into him as he spins Sansa around. No doubt she
is furious that Jon has apparently taken the only child who took her side away
from her. Jon chances a glance at the high table, where Ned is talking to Lord
Karstark, and Catelyn’s eyes are like ice upon him.
He curls his hand tighter around Sansa’s waist, bringing her back to him with
such a force, she had to throw her arms out to grasp his shoulders in order to
steady herself. She giggled at him, eyes bright with exhilaration, her chest
heaving.
She had worn another dress, a silken silver one and Jon appreciates it. Not
just for Stark colours and the fact Sansa suits such colours, no matter how
much she tries to deny her Northern roots, but he likes it because it clings to
her hips and pushes her breasts up. Her chest is heaving from the dance and he
lets his hand drop to her hip, meeting her eyes.
They widened at the touch and she bit her lip, her fingers digging into his
shoulders. He moved his hand up again, curling it under her breast and she
shuddered. So easy, he thought with a barely contained smirk.
“I can’t stop thinking about earlier,” he whispered, trying to sound remorseful
and guilty of such a thing. He heard her gasp, delights in the way she tried to
avoid his eyes so that he can’t see, even though he already knows, she has been
thinking about it too.
“Jon, we…we mustn’t,” she replied softly.
“I want to kiss you again,” he persisted, feeling her shiver before he spun her
again, his hand grasping the small of her back as he pushed her against him
once more. “Sansa, please. You’re driving me mad. Just one more kiss, please.”
She shuddered again, closing her eyes for a brief second before she opened them
to meet his own, giving the barest of nods.
                                      ***
Sansa waits a while before declaring she is tired and going to bed. Jon waits a
little longer, dancing with Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole before he too declared
he was tired and going to bed.
She was sitting on her bed when he entered her chambers. She had changed into
her shift, with a cloak over her shoulders and wrapped around her and Jon
thanked the Old Gods that she just seemed to keep making this too damn easy for
him to carry out without even knowing what she was doing.
He strode purposely towards her and she barely has a chance to open her mouth
before he shoved his hands in her hair, tilting her head up to meet him and
claimed her lips in a brutal kiss. She gasped at the force, allowing him to
slip his tongue and caress her own, coaxing it to move. Her hands grab his
shoulders for purchase.
He smirked against her lips when her breath hitched as he pressed forward,
causing her to fall against the covers, her hair spread all around her and the
cloak falling from her body. She broke away, eyes wide and dark and oh, they’re
begging for him, he is so close, so close to winning this game.
“Jon,” she whimpered as his hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her swollen
lips.
“I don’t care anymore,” he growled and she was barely able to respond before he
crushed his lips against hers again, relishing how her body arched in shock of
his actions. His hands grasped her waist and he can feel the warmth of her skin
beneath them.
“Jon!” she gasped as she broke the kiss again, blinking up at him.
“I don’t care anymore about what will happen,” he said again. Gods, she is so
easy to win around. Pretty words of devotion and she is eating out of the palm
of his hand. Sweet, naïve Sansa. The one thing he can thank Catelyn for is how
easily he will make Sansa a desperately wanton creature thanks to her lessons
of being obedient and her easily influenced mind.
“But…but we’re…”
“Cousins,” he interrupted. She bit her lip again and he smirked, dipping down
to kiss her cheek and up to her ear. “Is it me being a bastard that bothers
you?”
She shook her head but it was too fast and he knew she was feeling ashamed of
how she was acting with him. And his bastard status was making her feel even
more guilty.
“Bastards are sometimes the ones who bring the most pleasure,” he murmured
against the shell of her ear and he felt her tremble, her breath catching and
the way she flushed from her neck to her ears. He bit the earlobe gently. “Tell
me honestly Sansa. Do you want me to touch you?”
She whimpered and he can feel her shake under his fingertips. But he knows he
has her, even before her breathy consent reached his ears.
He moved quickly, rolling off of her and shifting to sit against the headboard.
He pulled her up, sitting her in his lap with her back to his chest, her legs
on either side of his own. He pressed kisses down her neck as his hands grasped
the hem of her shift, pulling it up roughly. She squirmed as his knuckles brush
her bare skin with the movement.
“I won’t take your maidenhead,” he whispered, letting the material fall back
down.
Not tonight, not yet.
She nodded breathlessly, letting him turn her head for another kiss as his
other hand instead grasped her shift at her shoulder, pulling it down roughly
until it is at her elbow, her perfect white breast bared to him at last. She
mewled, shifting in his lap and her fight between her shame and her arousal is
driving him mad He repeated the action with the other arm, effectively trapping
her and leaving her at his mercy.
He cupped her breasts gently, relishing the weight of them in his palms. Sansa
shivered in his arms, her own twisting slightly against the sleeves that trap
them. He gives the mounds a gentle squeeze, his thumbs reaching out to stroke
just around the nipple area but not close enough to touch.
“Ah, Jon?” Sansa questioned softly, her wide blue eyes glancing at him as he
let his thumb roll over a nipple. She jerked, her fingers digging into his
knees as her body arched towards the touch. Jon grinned against her shoulder,
his other thumb moving to the other, running over the pebbling bud.
“Is it good?” he whispered as she gasped, biting her lip to stop herself making
a noise. That won’t do at all, Jon thought with a frown, giving her nipples a
hard pinch.
“Ah ah!” she moaned helplessly, her head falling back against his shoulder as
he continued to play with her.
“You like this don’t you?” he said as he placed kisses against her shoulder, up
her neck. “No, you love it. You love me touching you!”
“Nnn…no,” she groaned as her cheeks flushed that sweet pink shade.
“No?” he questioned lightly, his left hand continuing to pinch and roll her
nipple and his right returning to the hem of her shift. He felt her tense.
“You said you wouldn’t!” she gasped, shivering. Jon kissed her cheek.
“I won’t,” he assured her, moving to bite her earlobe. “But I still want to
touch it.”
She opened her mouth to say something, probably tell him it wasn’t proper. He
doesn’t give her the chance, shoving his hand up the material and pressing his
palm flat against the damp material of her smallclothes. He took a shuddering
breath as he realised how wet she was.
“You’re soaking,” he whispered in her ear.
“I…I’m sorry,” she whined as Jon moved his fingers to the ties that kept her
bare skin from his touch.
“No,” he groaned. “It is good. It means you want this. I told you, you love me
touching you Sansa. Let me touch you some more.”
“I…I don’t…” she started and Jon can’t afford for her to question this now. He
pulled the ties of her smallclothes quickly, his fingers instantly seeking out
her warm, wet cunt. His hand left her breast, grasping her left thigh tightly
as he felt her jerk and try to close her legs as he ran his fingers across her
lips.
His eyes catch her reflection in the mirror and he smirked, pressing another
kiss to her cheek as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She blinked at him
in confusion as he pulled her back into position on his lap, her legs dangling
on either side of his own. Her whole face flushed as he rested a hand on her
stomach, holding her against him as he parted his legs, spreading her own with
the movement.
“Jon?” she questioned, looking at him in confusion, lips parting in confused
pleasure as he let his fingers return to her sex.
“Watch,” he commanded gently, the hand on her stomach moving to turn her head
to face the mirror. She shook her head, wide eyes looking at him again but Jon
turned her head again, his fingers moving to find the spot he knew would have
her writhing and moaning against him.
He stared at her in the mirror, watched as she succumbed to his touch and
slowly met his eyes in the glass, her cheeks aflame with shame and desire. His
fingers rub gently, slowly gathering the wetness that is starting to form.
Sansa whimpered, her body jerking against the new sensations. Still he kept his
eyes on her reflection, staring as his middle and third finger part her folds
and bare her completely to him.
He could take her now, he knew. She was starting to fall under the spell of her
pleasure and he knew if he told her he was going to lay her down and fuck her
she would put up little protest. He could put his fingers inside her and fuck
her that way, he thought. She would let him do that too, even if it might
breach her maidenhead. But Jon refused to give into the wolfblood just yet,
refused to rise to the need to fill her and claim her with his fingers.
His cock was going to be the first thing she ever felt inside of her.
“Jon? Jon!” she moaned, her hips beginning to rise to meet his movements as he
placed all his fingers on her bundle of nerves, pressing harder. She arched,
fingers digging helplessly into his breeches, her eyes darting between her
reflection and to the wall as she realised how debauched she looked. even as
her lessons of chastity and purity were still trying so hard to hold her back
from letting go and embracing what he was doing to her.
“Don’t fight it,” he growled, feeling her body beginning to tense. “Think about
how good it is, how good I’ll make it every time you let me touch you.”
She mewled, her back arching in a tight bow, her head thrown back as she cums
on his fingers. Her eyes are dark when she looked at him and he loved how
innocent she can still look after he had just spread her legs and made her
watch him touch her.
He moved his fingers, pressing them against her lips. Sansa jerked away,
frowning at him. Jon grinned.
“Don’t you want to taste yourself?” he asked lightly, taking a finger and
popping it in his mouth, giving her a long moan. "Delicious."
She gasped, wide eyes staring at him as he removed them. And when he pressed
his fingers against her mouth again, he could barely bite back a groan as she
parted her lips and let him slip his fingers in her mouth. Her eyes darted to
his and then away again as he started to move his fingers, a gentle in and out
motion, imaging his cock sliding between those sweet, pink lips.
He pulled them out after a moment, wiping his fingers on his breeches as he
stood up and looked down at her. She was a vision, he thought wickedly, spread
out with her cunt and teats bared to him, her hair a mess on the sheets and
sweat glistening on her chest.
And he was just getting started.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     REMINDER: This is a dark revenge/manipulation story (to start with).
     Jon IS a dick right now for what he plans to do. I have used my
     psychology undergrad to get the way manipulation and power play works
     and from Jon's POV it is meant to be dark etc. This may very well
     upset folk. Unfortunately, the minds of such people can be upsetting
     and that is sort of the point. Read the tags, read the notes and we
     can all have a happy day okay kiddos? :)
When Sansa came down for breakfast the next morning, Jon could barely hold the
smirk on his face and had to raise his cup to his mouth in an attempt to do so.
She looked exhausted and when her eyes caught his, she flushed and ducked her
head down.
“Are you alright Sansa dear?” Catelyn asked, frowning at Sansa’s pink cheeks.
Sansa nodded quickly, piling food upon her plate. Catelyn continued to stare at
her daughter for a moment and Jon deliberately kept his head down before she
could turn her gaze upon him.
Eventually, her mother looked away to discuss something with her husband. Jon
glanced over to Sansa, smirking when she looked over to him at the same time
and her cheeks flushed again. She picked up her bread, taking delicate bites
and staring down at her plate. Jon shifted, stretching his right foot out to
touch hers. Sansa squeaked, her chair scraping back in shock.
“Sansa, what is wrong?” Catelyn asked.
“N-n-nothing…I thought I felt a …a spider on my leg…” Sansa replied. Jon met
her eyes again as he popped a bit of bacon in his mouth, his finger pushing
past his lips and sucking the digit clean. He gave her a wink, knowing she was
remembering sucking his fingers last night when they were still covered in the
taste of her.
“I think I’m ill!” Sansa declared, standing quickly.
“You do look like you have a fever coming on,” Robb commented pityingly as he
regarded her. “Would you like me to escort you back to your rooms?”
“I’ll manage!” Sansa answered, turning and departing the room quickly.
Jon took a long gulp of his drink, picking at his food idly until he supposed
enough time had passed to excuse himself. 
“If Sansa is ill, do I still have to go to sewing lessons?” Arya asked.
“Of course you do,” Catelyn responded.
Arya huffed, her knife pushing her bread across her plate. Jon ruffled her
hair, giving her an apologetic smile as he passed her, picking up Sansa’s
abandoned piece of bread and pocketing it. Catelyn glared and Jon lowered his
eyes in an attempt of looking shameful, leaving the hall.
He made his way quickly up to Sansa’s rooms, knocking urgently on her door. He
grinned when she opened the door, her eyes wide when she saw him. He pressed a
hand to her door, holding her gaze and she stepped back, letting him come in
and close the door behind him.
He grabbed her hips, pulling her against him and slotting his mouth to hers,
relishing in her moan, her hands desperately running across his shirt. She
broke away suddenly with a gasp, blinking in shock of her reaction. Jon cupped
her chin, leaning to claim her lips again but she turned away. Jon growled in
his throat before he could stop himself.
“Jon, we have to be more careful!” she whispered, although she did nothing to
stop him stepping forward, urging her back until her knees hit the bed, sending
them sprawling on top of it.
His mouth found hers before she could protest again, his fingers grasping at
her dress. As he grabbed the hem, hiking them up she wrenched her mouth away,
her hands travelling down to grasp his wrists.
“Jon, mother will come and check on me at any moment!” she hissed, her words
trailing into a gasp as he licked a trail up her neck, kissing along her jaw
and up to her ear. She whimpered as he bit at the lobe, his hands grasping her
hips through the material of her dress. Gods to take her now and have Catelyn
enter the room to see her perfect daughter in such a state of disarray and
lust. The sweet thought was going to serve him well tonight.
“I’ll come to you later, sweet girl,” he murmured, smirking as she shivered
beneath him. Her eyes darted towards his, her cheeks a pretty pink and Jon
grinned, thinking of how much he will make her blush when he comes to her
later.
He has touched her sweet cunt, seen it bared to him but he has not yet tasted
it and he was going to rectify that.
                                      ***
"Have you decided on a bride yet?" Theon asked Robb as he shot another arrow at
the target.
Robb shook his head, arms folded across his chest as he watched his friend
practice. Jon chuckled lightly and Robb frowned at him.
"What?"
"I'm just glad I don't have to deal with all of that," Jon replied with a
shrug.
"Being a bastard has its perks after all then Snow?" Theon teased, smirking
over his shoulder at him. Jon glared, opening his mouth to tell the older boy
to fuck off. But then Theon glanced up at the balcony. Jon followed his gaze,
seeing Beth Cassell and Jeyne Poole up above, watching them. When Robb looked
up, Jeyne blushed and ducked her head down and Beth giggled as Theon grinned up
at them.
“Ladies,” he drawled, dipping into a bow. 
“Is Sansa feeling better?” Robb asked, stepping back slightly in order to look
at the girls better.
"Lady Catelyn just went to her rooms to check on her. She isn't to be disturbed
for the rest of the day, so she can rest," Beth answered.
Jon continued with the practice session, ignoring Theon's taunts when the ward
would hit the target every time whereas Jon was not so lucky. For years,
Greyjoy's sneers had irked Jon to no end, souring his mood every time. But now,
Jon cared little about the taunts. After all, he had seen Theon look at Sansa
the way men always looked at a pretty girl. had heard him say to Robb that if
he married Sansa they could be brothers. Theon liked to remind Jon of his
bastard status, the fact that Theon was a true born son with more respect from
Lady Catelyn than him. Now Jon just thought of how wet Sansa's cunt was beneath
his fingers, the way her whole chest flushed at his attentions. The fact that
Theon wanted Sansa so much, whatever the reasons, just made Jon think about how
he was going to make her peak over and over later. He would have something
that Theon never would. It was almost as good a motive as seeing Catelyn's
horror.
Eventully, the practice session finished and after cleaning themselves in the
hot springs, Jon dismissed himself. He rushed up to Sansa's chambers, careful
not to get caught and rapped on the door three quick times. She opened it
slowly, her eyes wide when she saw him.
"May I come in?" he asked gently.
She bit her lip, eyes darting briefly to the floor before she stepped aside. He
waited for her to close the door softly behind her and then he moved
quickly, his body pressing her back against the door as his hands came up to
brace against the wood. He stared at her for a beat before his right hand left
the door to stroke down her neck. He smirked as she tilted her head and
shivered in submission and he moved to press a kiss beneath her hair and down
her jawline.
“Sweet Sansa,” he mumbled against her skin as he descended down her neck, his
hand now cupping her breast through her dress. "You taste so sweet darling."
He pulled the ties of her bodice, both hands now moving quickly to unlace them
and shove the material aside to reveal her breasts to him. He grasped her
waist, turning her so her back was to his front, his hands gripping the full
flesh of her breasts. He wasted no time, his thumb and finger moving quickly
against her nipples and rubbing them into hard peaks as Sansa moaned and her
back arched, pressing her ass against his hardening cock.
“What did you tell your lady mother when she came to you?” he asked, giving her
buds a sharp pull that made her whimper and her hands fly up to his. He pinched
them again, grinning at how she responded with another whimper., her hands
falling away slightly in surrender. The Gods were making this too easy, he
thought with dark amusement. He gave her earlobe a warning nip. “Answer my
question.”
“That I was feeling sick,” she gasped, her head falling back against his
shoulder, her eyes closing as he removed his fingers from her nipples, instead
stroking around the curves of her breasts.
“Sick?” he repeated with a small chuckle, squeezing her flesh under his hands.
"Is that because you don't want this?"
She shook her head so hard, curls fell out of the braid she had worn. Her hands
pressed against his own again, keeping his touch on her.
“I want you,” she whimpered. “I do. Please, Jon!”
“How do you want me Sansa?” he whispered, rutting his hips against her arse.
She was almost there, almost on the edge of giving herself completely to him.
“I….I don’t know…” she mumbled, her eyes falling shut once more as he returned
his fingers to her nipples. He bit back a sigh at the response. He still wanted
her to say she wished for him to take her maidenhead. And he was a patient man
even if his cock begged to differ, urging him to fuck her now.
“Well I have an idea,” he whispered, giving her ass a small pat and when she
glanced at him, he raised his eyebrows towards the bed.
As she stepped away however, he grasped at her skirts suddenly realising the
problem. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he grinned, his hands
pushing where the material bunched against her waist and until the skirts
pooled at her feet.
He patted her again in reminder of his silent request. Sansa moved, glanvcing
over her shoulder as Jon followed her.
"Lie back and spread your legs sweet girl," he commanded.
"Jon?" she questioned, hesitating at the edge of her bed.
He wrapped his arms around her, his left hand stroking up and down her stomach,
his right traveling up to her breast once more. He rubbed his cheek against
hers.
"I want to touch you," he whispered. "You liked it did you not?"
"I did," she sighed softly, tilting her head slightly, desperately seeking his
mouth. He allowed a quick peck before he moved back.
"Can I try something else then?"
"What?" she asked turning in his arms.
"I want to kiss you," he murmured, grinning when she frowned.
"Very well," she answered, closing her eyes.
"No not here," he chuckled, his thumb stroking her lips. "Somewhere else."
"Where?" 
He grasped her hips gently, pushing her back onto her bed. He crawled on top of
her, a hand pulling at the ties of her small clothes, tugging the material
away. Her cheeks bloomed instantly as he looked at her.
"You will love this," he promised, watching her brows furrow as he shifted to
lie on his stomach.
He smirked at her sharp inhale as he slid his hands beneath her thighs and
spreading them wide.
"Jon, what...oh!" she gasped as his tongue swiped up the length of her.
She shifted slightly as he repeated the motion, as though the proper part of
her nature was reminding her not to be wanton. He growled, hands pushing her
legs up further, her cunt at the complete mercy of his tongue as he let it
slide to the sensitive nub hidden at the top.
Sansa moaned, a hand pressed quickly to her mouth as if to stop the sound
escaping again. The fingers of her other hand gripped the furs tightly as he
pressed harder on the centre of her pleasure.
He could feel her thighs tightening beneath his fingers, could hear her breathy
gasps and groans beneath her hand. He pulled off of her.
"You were so pretty when you peaked for me last night," he whispered, grinning
as her flush spread over her neck and chest.  "I want to see it again."
He dived back down, tongue moving in harder and faster circles as Sansa's hips
canted up to meet his mouth, her chest heaving as she started to tense beneath
him.
He glanced up at her, her eyes closed and mouth parted as she panted. But as he
continued his movements, her eyes flew open, a desperate gasp escapin her.
"Oh oh Jon....Jon.... I ... it...!" she trailed off with another high keen, her
head tilting back and knuckles turning white with how hard she gripped the
furs.
He retreated, watching her eyes widen as she looked at his wet lips. He grinned
again, rearing up to kiss her slack mouth before she realised what he was
doing.
"I could taste you all night," he murmured. "I think you would love that."
"But... it isn't proper," she mumbled, blushing once more.
"How so?" he teased. "Women are asked to do the equivalent for men often
enough."
"Are... are they?" she asked, her eyes briefly glancing towards his breeches
and then away again. His lips twitched as she deliberately looked away, biting
her lip.
"What are you thinking about hmm?" he whispered, a finger tracing her lips
slowly. She flushed her eyes darting to him and then away again. "Sansa?"
"I ... is it...how would I...?" she questioned, hand gesturing to his breeches.
"You want to do that?"
She bit her lip again before she gave a small nod. He inhaled sharply at the
thought of his cock in Sansa's mouth. He hadn't thought to get anything from
her this soon, had been prepared to spend time seducing her. He wasn't going to
complain if she wanted to move things along though.
"Untie my breeches sweet girl," he commanded, lying down on his back beside
her.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the laces, her eyes flickering between
his face and her task. Once done, she looked at him expectantly, awaiting
instruction.
He reached to shove the clothing down his legs, watching her blink at the sight
of his cock. He reached for her hand, curling it around the base of him. He
kept his hand on hers as he guided it up and down a few times.
"It... I didn't think it would feel like that," she said, staring between his
legs. She glanced up. "Do I put my mouth on you now?"
"Yes, not too much though," he replied. "Just take this bit first."
He gripped his cock as Sansa parted her lips, het eyes looking up once more
before the head of his cock was engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth.
"Good girl," he cooed. "Now slide your tongue ov...yes!" he groaned as her
tongue moved along the length of what was in her mouth.
He licked his lips as he hiked himself up to watch her. She was clumsy, as any
first timer was bound to be. But she was eager to please, he thought, barely
biting back a grin. He would teach her to suck his cock properly soon enough.
For now though, he was happy taking he slow path to release as he slid a hand
in her hair and guided her into a gentle rhythm. He relished  the way her eyes
kept flickering up to his face, seeking approval as she worked. And when he
told her how good it felt, how good she was, her eyes slid closed as though
genuinely pleased at his praise.
She attempted to take more of him but she ended up choking and rearing off of
him, spluttering and coughing. She stared at him wide-eyed.
"I...I'm sorry!" she whispered.
"Don't worry, it was good," he assured her. "It takes practice."
"What...what should I do now?" she asked, glancing at his cock again.
"I can finish myself in my chambers," he replied and seeing her crestfallen
expression he quickly followed up. "I don't want to scare you off. Doing such a
thing for a man for the first time is overwhelming. I'll see you tomorrow."
In truth, he had briefly thought of finishing himself off and spilling across
her breasts as he often thought when he took himself in hand. But Sansa was
still so nervous and innocent about all of this. He had to let her set the pace
to keep her near and curious enough to pursue him without scaring her. She
might run if she were to see his seed on her or if he had finished in her
mouth.
Until she surrendered her maidenhead to him, he would have to wait for such
sweet treats.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Breast fucking, dream sex (sort of) anal play (a little in the dream)
     an angry Sansa and an increasingly confused Jon.
Chapter Notes
     Remember I said Sansa was not going to be a totally meek case ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
He never grew tired of the little desperate sounds Sansa made when he touched
her. How she tried hard to keep quiet, knowing a lady shouldn’t enjoy such
things, but unable to stop herself as he plucked and pulled at her spots like a
musician with an instrument.
“I love your teats, sweet girl,” he mumbled into her neck as his hands
continued to squeeze her breasts, his thumbs brushing slowly across her
nipples, making her shiver against him. “I think you like me playing with them
too. Do you Sansa? Do you like your bastard cousin touching you?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, her hands pressing flat on his clothed thighs as she
arched her back, pushing her breasts further into his hands.
“Would you let me fuck them?” he murmured, moving to nip her ear as he
whispered his filthy requests to her. She gasped, her skin flushing from her
chest to her hair. Jon grinned at the display, the ultimate sign of her
innocence and how he was responsible for taking it all.
“Jon…” she sighed, gasping as he gave her nipples another quick pinch.
“What…how would…oh!”
Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as his hand
snaked between her legs, seeking out the bundle of nerves that made her fall
apart. She bucked up against him as he pressed his fingers to the little nub,
rubbing in small, teasing circles while his other hand continued playing with
her breast.
“Will you let me?”
She opened her eyes halfway to meet his, her teeth digging into her lip as she
wavered. It felt like an eternity before she nodded slowly, a whispered “yes”
following.
Jon pressed a kiss to her forehead as he removed his hands, grinning at the
soft protesting whine she gave.
“Lie back,” he commanded as he stood and untied his breeches.
Sansa licked her lips as her eyes drove down his body and Jon groaned under his
breath as his cock twitched at her attention. Sansa really didn’t realise how
her innocent gestures made her all the more endearing.
He climbed back on the bed, slotting his mouth against hers. He moaned as she
parted her lips to him, her fingers burying in his hair, sliding her tongue
against his own as he positioned himself more comfortably above her.
He pulled back, his eyes raking over her naked form as she blinked up at him,
her lips swollen from his kiss and her cheeks still stained a pretty pink. He
groaned, his hand stroking up her side, revealing in her soft skin.
She arched beneath him, her eyelashes fluttering as she moaned softly at his
touch. She truly was beautiful, he thought, his lust as much a drive for his
actions as his hate for her mother. She opened her eyes again, dark and begging
and Jon was leaning down to kiss her again before he could think to do anything
else.
“Are you going to…?” she murmured against his lips. Jon’s breath hitched at her
sweet tone, his cock twitching against her thigh.
He sat back on his heels, his hand reaching down to tug on his length. She
followed his movement, her eyes wide as she watched him stroke himself into
hardness, the tip beginning to leak. She licked her lips, the sight causing Jon
to pause and clench his eyes shut.
“Don’t do that,” he growled, opening his eyes again. She blinked, a small smile
curving across her lips.
“Why not?” she whispered. “Would you change your mind about where to put it?”
You little minx!
He laughed despite himself, smiling at the soft giggle that Sansa in turn
responded with. He moved over her again. He raised his hand to cup her cheek,
his thumb moving to trace the shape of her lips, his eyes dropping to follow
the movement.
“I do love your mouth on me,” he admitted, grinning as he felt her breath
hitch. “But I love your teats too. And I want to try this with you.”
He moved once more, his legs bracketing her ribs as he hovered over her. She
giggled again as he slid his cock between her breasts, her eyes wide and
curious.
“Push them together,” he murmured, raising her hands and pressing them against
her breasts.
Her blush spread all across her face and down to her chest as Jon started to
rut against her skin, the softness of her skin driving his own desire. His eyes
dropped slightly to watch him move against her, his precum glistening in the
dim torchlight and Jon growled at the sight.
It’s like I’m marking her.
His hips jerked as he spilled, just having the wits to move back enough to
allow his seed to splash across her chest and stomach. She gasped as it hit
her, her eyes blinking down at the sight and her cheeks growing darker as she
raised her wide eyes back to him.
Jon panted at the sight, moving to press his mouth to hers in a forceful,
desperate kiss.
“That was amazing sweet girl,” he murmured, kissing her again before moving
back onto his heels once again, his eyes roving across her marked skin.
He reached out, his finger trailing through his seed, spreading it across her
breasts even more. Her chest heaved as she watched him silently. He smiled as
he placed the finger against her lips and she parted them instantly, her eyes
closing as she sucked against the digit.
He removed his finger, feeling his cock stir once more. If he continued, he was
going to find it hard to resist seducing her fully. He has thought about little
else for days.
“I should go back to my chambers,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her
forehead.
She nodded, raising herself from her arms and moving to the wash basin. He
watched as she washed the evidence of his visit from her. He smirked as he
imagined Catelyn bursting through the door right now, seeing him lying naked on
Sansa’s bed while her perfect little daughter washed his seed from the breasts
he had fucked.
He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to
her forehead as he wished her goodnight. She smiled shyly at his affection,
reaching to cup his cheek before pressing a kiss there.
Jon stared for a moment, unsure of how to process the action. He hoped the
smile he gave her wasn’t more of a grimace from his confusion as he bid her
goodnight once more and left.
                                      ***
He growled as he slammed the door shut, running his hand through his hair.
Everything had been going just fine, he seethed, glaring around his chambers as
though they had been responsible for his foul mood. He had more or less seduced
Sansa, had her coming to him almost every night for him to touch her, to taste
her.
But instead of accepting his kiss, or following his silent instruction to the
bed, she had turned and picked up the black material that had been draped
around her sewing chair, handing it to him with a soft, giddy smile.
When he had realised it was a linen shirt, and she had taken the time to stitch
both a direwolf and dragon upon it, he had frozen. And when she had touched his
arm, asking him if it was alright he had tossed the shirt back at her and ran
back to his own chambers.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, his teeth bared in his anger at Sansa, at
himself.
“It is just a shirt,” he muttered, taking another deep breath as he lowered his
hands. He turned, opening the door and quickly making his way back to Sansa’s
chambers.
He grimaced as he heard her soft sobbing, his hands rising to rap three sharp
knocks on the door. She continued to sob on the other side, not even
acknowledging that she had a visitor. He knocked again, more furious, hard
knocks that rattled the wood. But still she did not stir.
He reached for the door handle, pulling it down and growling when the door
didn’t budge. She had locked him out, he realised dumbly, baring his teeth at
the door. He slammed his palm against it over and over.
“Sansa, open this door to me right now!”
“Go away!” she snapped.
“I swear I will break it down if you don’t let me in!”
He withdrew his hand as he heard the soft rustling of fabric, likely her dress
sliding across the stone floor. And then he heard the heavy slide of the bar
being removed but the door remained closed, she wouldn’t open it for him it
would seem.
Jon shoved at the wood roughly, storming into her chambers and tossing the door
shut behind him. Sansa barely flinched. She stood with her back to him, staring
into the flames of her fire, her arms wrapped around her waist.
The shirt she had made was nowhere to be seen.
“You locked your door on me,” he growled, striding up to her and pulling on her
shoulder to get her to face him.
“Apologies,” she simpered sarcastically, dipping into an exaggerated curtsy. “I
didn’t think you would want to see me anymore. You clearly want one thing from
me Jon. I thought you cared about me!”
“I do,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I do!” he
repeated at her raised eyebrow. “You’re pretty and sweet and...”
“And I have a virgin cunt,” she added, smirking as Jon’s jaw dropped at her
language. “That is what you want isn’t it Jon? I thought you wanted me but I
was just to be another conquest to you!”
He scowled towards the fire, annoyance and shame flooding him. Because she was
both right and wrong. He had meant to ruin her for his own selfish desire of
revenge, but she was merely thinking he craved her maidenhead for a trophy. If
she knew the whole truth, she would hate him so much more.
“You should leave,” she said, turning away from him once more. “Leave before I
summon my mother and tell her she was right about you.”
Jon growled, the thought of Catelyn here and judging him sending white rage
through his veins. He reached for her again, turning her and using his whole
body to push her back against the wall, his hand cradling the back of her head
from the stone.
“I want your maidenhead aye, I won’t lie about that,” he murmured. “But don’t
pretend you didn’t love everything I have done to you, that you haven’t thought
about all the things I still plan to do to you. You can run to your mother all
you like, tell her that your bastard of a cousin is even worse than she
imagined. Tell her if you want. But I will tell her that you were begging for
it, or at least you managed to beg for it when my cock wasn’t filling your
mouth!”
She snarled, teeth bared as she glared at him. She wrenched a hand away from
the wall, her palm colliding with his cheek with such a force it sent him
stumbling backwards and left him blinking in shock.
“Get out!” she screeched, pointing to the door. “I will scream Jon, I swear!”
“I came to apologise about upsetting you about that stupid shirt,” he snapped,
gesturing wildly around the room as if to conjure the damn garment. “I felt bad
that I had upset you because I was too overwhelmed by the fact you had done
something so nice for me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry my genuine affectionate feelings made you feel guilty about
seducing me,” she grumbled, shaking her head and though she was turned away
again, he bet she had rolled her eyes as well. “Leave Jon, I won’t ask again.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair once more and casting a look at the
door before he made his way out of the room. He paused, a hand lingering on the
door’s edge as he glanced back at her but she made no move to acknowledge him
as he slipped back into the corridor.
                                      ***
He noticed the sept was empty but for the three of them.
Sansa was standing at the alter, wearing a dress of ivory and a grey cloak on
her back., the direwolf taunting him. Standing beside her was a man Jon didn’t
know, a blonde man, tall and handsome with a charming smile. He looked every
inch a prince as he stood, smirking at the prize beside him, the rose of
Winterfell.
Sansa was sobbing.
“You won’t have her,” Jon snarled, shoving the man aside and watching as he
disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Sansa barely got her gasp of surprise out before he turned, hands fisting in
her hair and pulling her towards him. His lips crashed upon her, biting and
licking her own until she gripped his shoulders, her body surrendering to his
assault.
Surrendering to her mate, her alpha wolf.
“Mine,” he growled against her lips before turning her around, her back to his
chest and pushing his hips against her arse as he moved backwards until his
back hit the wall where the maiden’s face looked down upon them.
Sansa shivered as his hands reach the front of her dress, tearing it aside. His
hands grasped her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples into hardness until she
was nothing but a pliant, trembling mess in his arms.
And then, she was upon her back with his hands holding her behind her knees to
keep her legs up and spread wide as he feasted upon her. She was fully naked
now, flushing pink as her wide eyes looked up at the maiden’s face above her.
“I will take you right here,” he murmured.
And he did.
He howled at the feeling of her cunt around him, the tight, wet heat of her.
She mewled as he filled her, lips parted and eyes wide as he grinned down at
her until something made him look back and his grin widened as Catelyn stood,
horrified in the doorway.
He pulled out of Sansa and brought her to her knees, pulling her hair to look
upon her mother’s face as he slowly pushed himself back inside of her, smirking
at the way her eyelashes fluttered, her breath hitched as she gasped his name.
“Your daughter loves my bastard cock, my lady,” he whispered, rocking his hips
in slow, gentle circles that made Sansa gasp and arch and keen.
Catelyn was screaming at him, tears pouring down her cheeks as Sansa started
chanting his name over and over, her cheeks flushing as he tells her to beg for
it, to beg for his cock to fill her faster and harder, tells her to push back
and fuck herself upon him.
“Shall I spill inside of her?” he taunted. Sansa nodded frantically, pushing
back against him as she cried out how much she wanted him to spill inside of
her. “Shall I put a bastard in her?”
“Yes, yes yes!” Sansa moaned.
“I’ll kill you!” Catelyn screamed. Jon shrugged, bringing his finger to his
mouth and sucking it softly. He smirked at her as he moved his arm down, until
the finger was rubbing up and down the cleft of Sansa’s ass.
“Aye,” Jon shrugged as he found the puckered entrance and pushed the tip of his
finger inside. Sansa gasped, her entire body trembling with the sudden climax.
Jon held Catelyn’s gaze. “But I’ll enjoy her for now.”
He tugged Sansa’s hair, pulling her up until her back is to his chest, his free
arm curled around her stomach, keeping her held firm against him as he
continued to thrust up into her.
“And she will love it as well.”
The dream shifted again. Sansa was sitting upon her bed, head tilting back
against a pale shoulder, her mouth parted.
Jon growled, trying to move towards the bed. For the man behind her was not
him.
She looked at him then, blue eyes cold and clear and beautiful.
“You could have had me, all of me,” she whispered, moaning as the man traced
kisses up her neck.
“Sansa, stop,” he begged, his voice high and needy as he willed his legs to
move, to throw the man aside and take her again, make her know that she is his
and he is hers. He cannot move though and only his mouth seems capable of
working.
“Sansa, please. I know this isn’t what you want. This is not who you want. You
belong with me! I know that is true!”
She blinked slowly, her lips curving up into a smile as her hand reached back
and curled into the man’s blonde hair.
“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”
He gasped as he shot awake, glancing around the room as though he expected to
find himself in the sept or Sansa’s room rather than his own chambers. His
chest was heaving, the images still so vivid in his mind as he pushed a hand
through his hair.
He grimaced flopping back into the pillows and staring up at the canopy as he
tried to make sense of the dream.
The explicitness was no surprise. Lately, he had been dreaming of Sansa in such
ways, of seeing her writhing beneath him as he feasted on her skin, of hearing
her moan as he moved inside of her.
But the possessiveness, which still lingered in his chest even now, that was a
new feeling.This increasing need to be around her, his appreciation of her
attractiveness was all new sensations.
He swallowed thickly, licking his dry lips as he waited for his heart to slow
down before he rose and started to get ready for the day.
                                      ***
He didn’t get a chance to spend time with Sansa all day. Since their fight and
his dream last night, he had a frantic need to be near her, to touch her again
and again.
But as if sensing his uncontrollable desperation, the people around him seemed
to keep him from getting anywhere near her. Catelyn had decided to sit with her
daughters in their sewing classes, her eyes boring through him when he had
peered into the room. He caught Arya’s eye roll and had to bite his lip as he
retreated.
Ned had then found him, telling him that he should come hawking with Robb and
himself. And so, Jon had spent the afternoon in the Wolfswood, even more silent
and brooding than usual as his father and Robb chatted away.
Arya had then begged him to practice swords with her when they returned. He
never could refuse her anything so had met her in the courtyard. She had kept
him busy for the rest if the afternoon until Ned had come and told them to
clean up for dinner.
Sansa had been sitting on the other end of the table, next to her mother. And
she barely glanced his way, instead determinedly chatting to her mother and
Jeyne Poole, leaving Jon scowling into his bowl of broth.
He had hoped to sneak to her chambers after but Robb had cornered him as he
came out of his chambers.
“Can I speak with you?”
“Now?” Jon asked before he could stop himself, glancing along the corridor.
“Please,” Robb said and it was the desperate tone that made Jon look back to
him and step aside.
He gestured to his bed and Robb strode across the room, sitting on the edge and
pressing his hands together under his nose. Jon closed the door and slowly made
his way to sit next to him.
“Father keeps asking me to make a decision about a bride,” Robb stated after a
moment.
“Is there any that you liked?” Jon asked and grinned as Robb’s face flushed. He
nudged his cousin’s shoulder expectantly.
“I…um…Dacey was nice…”
“Mormont?” Jon replied, barely able to stop the laugh tumbling from his lips.
Robb glared at him.
“What?” he snapped and Jon pressed his lips together in an attempt to control
himself.
“Just… she would eat you alive,” Jon snorted.
“Well at least one of us would be doing something then,” Robb sighed. Jon
raised an eyebrow.
“You haven’t…ever?”
“You have?” Robb asked, turning his wide eyes to him.
“A few, yeah,” Jon replied with a shrug. Robb blinked repeatedly for a moment.
“How did I never know about this?”
“I am pretty discreet,” Jon said, shrugging again. “I don’t think your mother
would have approved.”
“So…um…how is it?”
Jon almost told Robb exactly how good a woman’s cunt feels and tastes. But then
he remembered his dream, how he has been touching and seducing Sansa and he
felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dropped upon him.
For if Robb were to marry, Ned would then turn his attention to possible
suitors for Sansa’s hand. She would be taken from the North, from him. The
thought made him growl, that possessive feeling thundering through his chest
once more as he leapt to his feet.
“I need to go,” Jon gasped, racing for the door before Robb can even ask what
was happening.
He tore around the corner, skidding to a stop outside Sansa’s door and pounding
on it like a man possessed until he heard the slow slide of the bar and then
Sansa’s wide eyes peering through the gap as she opened the door.
“Jon, what…?”
He pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind him before he grabbed her,
pulling her flush against him and slotting his mouth to hers. For a brief
second, she sagged in his arms, a soft moan escaping her as his hands ran
through her hair, pressing her harder against him as he slid his tongue past
his lips.
And then she tensed, her hands pressing on his shoulders and shoving him away.
She ran her arm across her lips, glaring at him.
“What in seven hells do you think you are…?”
“I’m sorry!” he interrupted, his hands grasping her shoulders and desperately
holding on to her. “Sansa, I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He had been selfish, he knew. And part of him still got a thrill in knowing how
horrified Catelyn would be if she were to ever find out what Jon had done to
Sansa, what he planned to do with her. But he hadn’t thought about the
repercussions that Sansa would face. And in truth, while Sansa could be cold
with him sometimes, she had never been outright cruel, had never wished him
gone from the castle or her life. And he didn’t truly want her to suffer the
shame.
And yet, he did still want her for herself, perhaps even more than his revenge.
She was a beauty after all, her innocence was a sirens call. And her skin was
soft beneath his fingers, her cunt tasted divine. He didn’t think he could give
her up even if he had wanted to end this game.
He trailed one hand down her left arm, his other reaching to tuck her hair
behind her ear. She blinked at him, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
“Sansa, I want you,” he murmured. “I want you for more than your maidenhead. I
think about you constantly. Perhaps it was selfish to begin with but now, now I
can barely breathe without the thought of you, without imaging you beneath me
and the taste of your skin. I won’t touch you again if you truly don’t want me
to.”
She swallowed, her eyes slowly rising to meet his and then she shook her head
slowly.
“I still want you to,” she whispered, ducking her head down and shaking it
again. “I know I shouldn’t but I do.”
He tilted her chin up, sliding his mouth against hers but she turned away
again, her eyes narrowing upon him as she stepped back, out of his reach.
“You truly want me Jon?” she asked, her gaze flickering across his face as
though she could read his thoughts.
“Yes,” he replied instantly, his own eyes dropping to where her breasts heaved
against the tight bodice of her dress.
“Prove it,” she said, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows at him. Jon
blinked, feeling his brows knit together in confusion.
“Prove it?” he echoed. Sansa gave one firm nod.
“Ask father for my hand.”
Chapter End Notes
     Lol we all know Ned will never let it happen. Sansa is just testing
     Jon :p
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!