Part One

a/n: Yeah, so, this. Written for amusement. I have no idea if there's readers out there interested . . . so make sure to review if you like it 'cause I may not get around to uploading the rest of it if no one comments~!

Theon made a face and kicked the detached head as it rolled near him.

"Asshole," Jon muttered. Their caustic relationship was the front they put up in public, so no one would suspect it's true nature.

Blah blah found direwolves blah blah.

Later that night, Jon was sitting in the room he shared with his brothers, playing with his new puppy. He poked the helpless ball of fluff and it rolled over on the bed, stuck in the small rut that it's weight made in the bedsheets. Ghost whined.

"Teehee," said Jon.

The door opened. "Mmm," said Theon, coming up behind him and leaning his chest against his back, resting his head on Jon's shoulder. "All these wolves are putting me in the mood for a little doggy style." Before Jon could react his hand darted downward, snaking under his belt and fingering his bulge through his breeches.

Jon yelped. He had just enough time to save his puppy by flinging it off the bed before Theon picked him up and threw him down, crushing the spot where his delicate wolfie had just been flailing. Ghost landed on the hard wooded floor boards with a small thump that went unnoticed in the wake of the much louder thumps that were issuing from the bed. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself into a corner. First his mother had died, then he had almost frozen to death forgotten in the snow, then his new owner had tormented him with pokes and now he was being flung about the room. It wasn't the best day to be Ghost.

Sounds of flying bedsheets and limbs knocking against the bed frame filled the room as Jon fought fruitlessly to gain the upper hand. Not that he didn't want to have obnoxious gay sex with his kind-of brother, but, being a proud Stark, he did feel the need to at least give a cursory objection to being buggered like a dog.

With a victorious, dramatic whoosh Theon whipped off Jon's pants with a flourish one may use to reveal a gourmet meal. No doubt the sight of his lover's rosie arse was just as delectable. He sunk his happy penis into it without further a due.

Jon yelped again, his muscles contracting around the intrusion. "Lube!" he cried.

"Sorry, hasn't been invented yet." Theon grabbed the younger boy and yanked his hips higher, holding him in a more helpless position with his behind up in the air and his head smooshed into the mattress. Jon wailed but his erect penis assured Theon of his pleasure. He fingered the little rod, working a finger into the slit at it's head. "To-hoho," he laughed gleefully, and began to thrust.

"Uwah! Uwah!"

"Huff Huff"

"Pant Pant"

"Oh my God!"

"Huh!"

Theon halted in mid thrust and both boys turned their heads sharply to see a figure standing in the doorway. The light from the hall fell squarely on their scene of sin.

"Who is it?" grumbled Jon, unhappy at the interruption, trying to turn his head but unable to move it while Theon still held him by his hair, pushing his head down.

"Jon!" squeaked the figure in the doorway in alarm.

Jon froze. "That's not my father, is it?" he asked, voice muffled by the layers of blanket that had fallen over him.

"It's just Rob," Theon assured him, and made to go back to fucking him.

"Hey!" shouted Rob, running over to the other side of the bed and putting his hands protectively on Jon's back. "You don't get to just fuck my brother like that! Speaking of which . . ." he grabbed Jon's ears and pulled his head up to face him, straining Jon's neck painfully in the process. "How could you cheat on me like this!"

"Sorry," mumbled Jon, disoriented and relieved when Rob released his ears and let his head fall back down.

"Well, it could be worse," said Rob, surveying the pair. "At least you scored a hottie!" Rob ripped off his shirt and jumped in bed eagerly.

"Whoa!" cried Theon, confused.

"It's okay; the bed is big, so this will work," Rob said, speaking from experience. Many things had gone down on that bed, shared by many generations of Stark brothers. Rob lifted his brother's upper half up tenderly wiggled his own groin under him, placing him back down on his hips.

Jon groaned once the rutting resumed, unable to protest as his mouth was full of Rob's shaft. Squeezed by his brother's bare thighs and urged on by the new second hand in his hair, he began reluctantly to suck his brother's seed out. It was a job he had preformed many times before, but as the bed shook with the increasingly violent plunges into his nether region, he became more and more aware that as he was pleasuring both the other boys, his own needs were going largely unattended. He sighed mentally. It was because he was the bastard and at the bottom of the . . . erm . . . fucking order.

He tried to take a hand off Rob's legs (which he was clinging to) in order to reach between his legs and . . . ah . . . take matters into his own hands but the movement behind him grew to such fever pitch that it was all he could do to hang on.

With a triumphant roar Theon spent himself and collapsed, not bothering to extract himself from Jon's tight anus, resulting in Jon being dragged down with him, forcing him to turn his head awkwardly as to not bite his brother. A moment later Jon felt a tensing and then the familiar, although still unsavoury salty taste of his brother's cum in his mouth.

After a moment of rest, the two boys finally turned their attention to the one remaining hardness in the bed. Jon lay on his back, feeling he deserved the pampering. Rob sat up and lazily massaged his brother's little penis with one hand. Theon joined him, rubbing the base and, leaning down, kissed him passionately. Jon opened his mouth eagerly.

The door creaked open again. Jon opened his eyes in shock. "Dad?" he asked, muffled this time by Theon's tongue, which has been licking his pallet.

"Jon?" asked a little voice, sickly sweet as ice cream.

"Bran!" said Rob, startled. "N-no no, Bran, don't come any closer, ah, just, go . . . go back outside. Leave."

"But it's bed time!" the little boy complained, drawing closer regardless of his big brother's pleas. He squinted at the three big kids on the bed, trying to decipher what was going on. His eyes lighted on Jon's stiff penis. His eyes widened. "What's wrong with it?" he asked incredulously, "Does it hurt?"

"Um, yes," improvised Theon, drawing away. "Jon hurt his weewee, and we were just, uh, rubbing it for him."

Bran reached out a curious finger and poked the boner. Jon squeaked and clamped his thighs shut, twisting away. Now he knew how Ghost felt.

Bran climbed up in bed and showed every intention of going to sleep. Heaven be if anything should get in the way of a child's sleep. Theon grabbed his clothes and slipped out of the room before someone else showed up. Rob lay down next to his little brother and played along, getting ready to fall asleep. He slapped Jon in a most unforgiving manner, telling him to lose the boner and go to sleep.

Jon groaned and rolled over, trying to think unsexy thoughts. It wasn't easy being a bastard.

Somewhere in a corner, Ghost whimpered.