Daenerys admired the ice-kissed landscape with a childlike wonder in her eyes. "We could stay a thousand years," she said with a smile that brought out the slight dimples in her cheeks. "No one would find us." The cascades raging loudly behind her were beautiful, but not as beautiful as her, not to him.
"We'd be pretty old," Jon said. She smiled at him, amused, and moved towards him. He closed the distance between them, his heart still racing from the thrill of riding a dragon for the first time only minutes earlier. They say only a Targaryen can ride a dragon, he thought. And yet, he had done it... and it had felt right. "It's cold up here for a Southern girl," he teased when she finally reached his side.
"So keep your Queen warm," she replied in a smug tone. He pulled her close to him by her waist and kissed her obediently, unable to resist her charm, until he heard the dragons snarl behind him. Startled, he pulled away, and she shot him a coy smile. "Don't be afraid," she teased him, tugging on his thick fur cloak to pull his mouth back to hers.
But his mind still lingered on the dragons watching them. He glanced over his lover's shoulder to see their beating eyes fixated on him like a warning. He often wondered how much the dragons understood of their mother's complicated life. Do they know that I love her? That I would never hurt her? That if I rip her clothes off and pin her body to the ground, it's only because I want to fuck her, not attack her? He could only hope. He wanted to take advantage of their solitude and fuck her right there in the open, on the pure white snow, letting her scream as loud as she wanted for once.
He pulled away and gave her a playful look, then turned towards the waterfalls and started walking towards them. Curious, she followed him. Once they reached a ledge close to the rushing water and far enough away from the dragons for Jon's comfort, he stopped, turned back towards his lover, and pulled off his gloves wordlessly. She moved closer to him expectantly.
As soon as she was within his reach, he pushed her up against one of the snow-dusted boulders behind them and kissed her deeply without holding back. Her hands wandered under his cloak, struggling to find her way to him through so many layers of clothing, knowing that neither of them could be fully exposed out here in the cold winter wind. Noticing her urgency, he lifted her legs off of the ground and knelt down before her, pulling off her undermost layers of clothing with ease, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he kissed his way up to her clit. She leaned back onto the rock, shivering, knotting her pale hands into his thick black curls and holding his face against to her cunt.
When he heard the sighs of pleasure escaping her, he pulled her off of the rock she'd rested on, laying down on the snow and guiding her down to fall gently on top of him, making her gasp in surprise. But as he held her up over his face and continued to lick her cunt hungrily, he felt her tremble in pure bliss. He'd never had her sit on his face before, but she was clearly loving every second of it as she began absentmindedly grinding her clit against his mouth. Was she going to scream for him? They were finally truly alone, too far from Winterfell for anyone to hear her cries of pleasure.
As he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking and circling and caressing it with his curious tongue, he finally heard her start to lose control. "F-f-fuuuck..." she moaned loudly. "Oh Jon... your mouth feels s-so... so fucking good..." He smiled when he heard her filthy words, sliding one hand from where it held up her inner thigh to push his cold fingers upward into her dripping wet cunt. And then there it was... the scream he'd been waiting for. His fingers stroked the most sensitive spot inside of her cunt as he felt tighten around his fingers, shaking as she climaxed on top of him.
When she'd finished, he sat up, and she slid down into his lap. She panted in the afterglow of her orgasm, trying to catch her breath. He loved to see her this way and kissed her forehead affectionately. "I love you, Dany," he said.
She leaned into him, warming herself in the heavy furs draped around his shoulders. "I know," she replied, smug as he'd just spoiled her with pleasure. And then, in a more serious voice, "I love you too, Jon Snow. I don't ever want to leave this place."
Her words sounded so familiar. A pang of guilt twisted in his heart as he was reminded of the cave he'd found with his first love, Ygritte, years ago. Even though he'd known they could never truly be together, it had destroyed him to lose her, to hold her in his arms as she'd drawn her last breath, to watch her body burn in the pyre he'd built for her. He didn't want to remember it now as he held Dany close, but the memory ignited a fear inside of him as he thought of losing his new lover. He'd been through so much pain since he'd loved Ygritte, and sometimes he thought of himself as a new man after the Red Woman had brought him back to life at Castle Black.
Still, he didn't want to feel the grief of losing a lover ever again. He knew he had to do whatever it took to keep Daenerys safe, to serve her and protect her, to help her fulfill her destiny. He gave her a gentle, loving squeeze as he thought of their future together, full of possibility and hope. If he had to see her die, he wanted it to be at the end of a long life together, at a natural old age, their minds full of joyful memories. As unlikely as happiness seemed in this fucked up world, he knew that he belonged with her. Holding her like this felt so right, and he never wanted to let go.