The night's wind ran its thin fingers through her brunette locks as she awaited Jon Snow near the riverside. Moonlight dashed kisses upon her cheeks while the trees rustled and stirred. Lady Rheanne sat upon the gnarled root of an old tree, hands folded in her lap as she gazed into the night's sky. The cracking of a stick sounded behind her, and Rheanne tilted her head in its direction. Snow emerged from the wood, his black cloak trailing behind him as his dark hair rippled in the breeze.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, my lady," he spoke softly. "It was rather difficult exiting the Inn unseen."
"Surely, Lord Snow," she smirked, using the name she heard his black brothers call him. "The men of the Watch wouldn't want you sneaking off to fornicate in the night, would they?"
"Quiet, you," Snow muttered. "You talk too much."
"Yea, I may. But I am a highborn lady, and you are but a bastard, my handsome Lord Snow."
"A highborn bastard of the Night's Watch," Jon retorted, kneeling before her. "And you will yell my name tonight."
"You will yell my name tonight, Snow." Rheanne directed his face to hers, and seized his lips. Jon edged her into his lap, her silken skirts pooling around him.
"I mean to take you by this riverside," Snow growled, sliding his hands under her gown. "If you please."
Rheanne smirked again, and lifted the silk over her head. She flung it behind her, to the base of old tree, and Jon gripped her wide hips as he forced his tongue into her mouth. Rheanne's breasts laid against Snow's chest, nipples pinched to attention by the crisp wind. She tugged at Jon's cloak, and he shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the grass behind him.
Snow lifted Rheanne and laid her upon the cloak. He tore off his shirt, exposing dark hair and thick muscle, and leaned forward to take her lips in his mouth. He gripped a breast in one hand and unbelted himself with the other. Rheanne threw her legs around his strong back, pressing her wetness to him. Snow opened his trousers and yanked her center toward his. He prodded her twat, causing her to squirm underneath him.
"On with it, Snow," Rheanne hissed, gripping the back of his neck.
Jon rammed his prick into her, forcing a cry from her lips. He pulled himself fully out and rammed again and again, as if he was laying siege. Rheanne cried out once more, her nails leaving gashes across his back, and she bit down on Snow's shoulder. He grunted and slapped her hard on the ass as he continued to ram into her. Rheanne yanked hard on his hair and Snow growled. On his down-stroke Rheanne caught hold of his prick and gripped him roughly.
"Woman," he warned.
"Man," she laughed, shoving him down to the grass. Rheanne lowered herself upon him and began to grind against his prick, rising up and down, a hand between her legs and the other against his chest. Snow grasped her breasts painfully and a drawn-out moan left her. Jon felt his gut clench and his prick spasm inside her, and groaned her name as he spilled his seed.
Rheanne gasped and clenched her muscles around Jon. She slid off him and laid down in the grass, her chest heaving. Jon went to his cloak and pulled Rheanne with him, her sweat-slicked body sticking to his.
"You said my name," she finally spat out, "and I did not say yours."
"You talk too much," he sighed, putting his fingers to her lips.
"Still, I did not say your name, Snow."
Jon Snow said nothing. He put his nose to her hair, which smelled of strawberries, and listened to the breath slow on her lips. They laid there, chalice and blade, until their strength returned.