Please adhere to the rating of this fic, NC-17! Thanks for all the comments and follows :) enjoy!
Chapter 4: Emotions Laid Bare
Andrea knows Leo will probably want some space; so she gives that to him. One day passes, and then two, she's waited in the courtyard for him, wooden sword ready—but he never shows. Three days turn into a week and by then she's lost her temper. She understands that she's lied to him, that she hurt him—they're friends and she should have just told him regardless of his response. But shouldn't he also try to understand where she's coming from? How conflicting her emotions have been?
She understands taking time for himself, to cool down, to work on not being angry with her…but he seems to be avoiding her now and that's childish.
Maybe this all comes down to the fact that she should have known better to get involved with Jon Snow in the first place, but it's too late to pull back, she's in too deep.
Jon's hands and mouth continuously fill her thoughts, even when she least expects it. His fingertips pressing into her back in soothing circles…but somehow traveling elsewhere: along her neck, cupping her breasts, sliding between her thighs. His lips brushing hers, kissing her deep until she can't breathe, tongues battling for dominance.
It's when she can't stop thinking of him like that she knows it's a losing battle, she can't pull away even though she should. Even though it's the safer and probably smarter decision.
You can, you just don't want to, a voice whispers. She chews on her lower lip, clamping down until it's quiet.
Andrea pulls her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders as she walks through the gates of Winterfell, her feet crunching through the snow. She breathes in deeply, ice sticking to the inside of her lungs and a shiver coursing down her spine as she lets the air out through her nose. It's a beautiful day out, regardless of the frigid cold. The sun isn't out, a slight grey fog of patchwork clouds in the sky—but she finds she prefers it that way, somehow easier for her to think.
She makes her way towards the woods, tugging her hood up to cover her ears as the wind blows. Andrea can't find Leo anywhere, he's clearly avoiding her…Winterfell isn't that big so coming out here to clear her mind seems like the next best thing. Maybe a break from him is what she needs even though she's not thrilled about it. Her back is a lot better, the muscles calming after much needed heat and rest but she doesn't want to get rusty. If Leo isn't willing to speak to her, let alone train with her, she's going to have to do things on her own or find someone else prepared to help.
And those thoughts wander to Jon once again.
She's been spending more time with him lately, on and off, usually in the kitchen late at night while she waits up for Lady Sansa or because neither of them can sleep. It's a comforting feeling, that he seeks her out, even just to talk.
He tells her about the places he's been, the things he's seen, the mistakes he's made. She tells him about what she remembers about her home, the food her mother used to make, and how her sister loved bears—misunderstood creatures for sure, seen as ferocious beasts but capable of giving so much love and affection towards their own young.
Jon listens to her, in a very different way than anyone else. He hangs on her words, asks her questions like he's genuinely interested and smiles when she talks about Mia because he can sense how much she loves and misses her just from her voice.
Andrea lets out a soft sigh, pausing at the edge of the woods—there isn't a sound, not one animal or a breeze rustling through the dead trees. She absently nudges a broken tree trunk with her foot, wondering if she could find her way back home, her old home, from here.
It's been so long, she doesn't even know if her house is still standing. She pictures the frame crumbled in on itself, rotted wood, snow living inside instead of people. Her parent's bones are probably there, her sister's too, buried beneath the earth from weather and time.
Something solid bumps her in the back of her leg and when she turns around to see what it is, Ghost greets her by jumping. She laughs, the direwolf completely knocking her over and into the snow. She lands with a soft oof, the wolf standing over top of her and licking her face. Snow manages to get into her hood and the longer she's on the ground the more she feels the cold seep into the fabric, closer and closer to her skin.
"Ghost!" Jon scolds but there's barely contained laughter lacing his tone. "Off."
She sits up, brushing the snow off herself and ruffling the fur behind Ghost's ears. "Don't act like you didn't tell him to do that."
Jon offers his gloved hand to her, which she takes. He pulls her up off the ground, their hands momentarily linked between them. "I would never."
A laugh leaves her lips, "Course not."
Her eyes trace over his form, heavy leather and fur on his cloak. She wonders why he never wears a hood or at least has his hair down to frame his face…don't his ears get cold? His nose and cheeks are gently kissed red, however. She wants to run her thumbs along his cheekbones, lean in to brush their noses together.
"How did you find me?"
Jon looks to Ghost, who's rolling around in the snow, nearly blending in with the surroundings except for the bright red eyes. "Now that I did use him for, I was looking for you."
She tilts her head a little, confusion resting in her eyes. Did Lady Sansa need her? Did Leo ask Jon where she was? Was Rose not feeling her best…if she had to cook again she's not quite she could put something together other than the stew from the other night.
"Is everything alright?"
He nods, his eyes glancing to the snow at their feet. She watches him carefully…is he nervous about something? Jon reaches inside his cloak and pulls out a small shape made from wood. He turns it in his hands a moment, his thumb running over a ridge before he hands it to her.
Her eyebrows crinkle together as she takes it from him, putting it her one palm before she recognizes what it is. Andrea's mouth falls open, a breath catching in her throat as her heart starts to pound in her chest.
It's a bear. It's a bear carved out of wood.
"I had Ser Davos make this for you." He says softly. She stares at it too long, her eyes glazing over with sudden tears. Her one hand covers her mouth as she listens to him, "I figured it was a nice way to remember your sister."
She's suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, thoughts and memories of Mia assaulting her senses. Warmer days in the woods together, how the sun would filter through her auburn hair, gathering up together under a blanket by the fire at night, listening to mother's stories. How Andrea used to take her hair and make haphazard braids that'd end up falling out anyways. How Mia would hug her so tight her ribs felt like they might break.
Andrea doesn't remember the last thing she ever said to her. She can't remember the last time she told her she loved her.
"'Drea," He's trying to get her attention, the nickname warm and affectionate on his tongue, something she's never heard him use before. He's worried his gift has made the wrong impression, that he's upset her in a way he hadn't intended.
When she manages to look up at him, a tear slides down her cheek, a choked noise leaving her lips that sounds a lot like a sob. She doesn't know what to say, if words will even suffice with how touched she is.
So she doesn't speak at all.
Instead she moves, leans up on her toes and kisses him. It's quick and tender and not how she pictured the first time kissing Jon Snow going. He looks at her a moment, eyes tracing over her face before he cups her cheek and pulls her into another kiss. This time it's deeper, his mouth memorizing hers, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her in place.
When she pulls back from him to breathe it's a messy combination of tears and sniffles. Andrea wipes her face, Jon leaning forward to press a long kiss against her forehead before bringing her into his chest, hand resting on the crown of her head to anchor her to him.
"Thank you." She chokes out into his neck, breathing him in, his skin warm and inviting.
He squeezes her once before nodding but says nothing, his hand moving to stroke her hair. They stay like that for a while, bodies pressed together, snow starting to fall around them.
"You're shaking," Jon tells her, tilting his head so he can try to catch her gaze.
Andrea wants to tell him that she's fine, that she can't tell whether it's from her emotions or because it's cold but either way another shiver travels down her spine. His hands grasp her shoulders, thumbs circling her collarbone even through her layers of fabric. Her throat burns with unshed tears, with the effort of holding back sobs, but she can't fall apart like that. It's not fair to Jon even though she knows he wouldn't mind; he knows what it's like to have a sibling and lose them. She doesn't want him to think that his gift wasn't a wonderfully kind idea.
"Come on, let's head back inside."
She nods and allows him to wrap an arm around her waist as they walk to guide her through the snow, Ghost taking the lead. Andrea can't take her eyes off the little wooden bear in her hands.
Mia would have loved it.
There's whispers and stolen glances when they walk back into Winterfell together, Jon's arm still around her. He doesn't let her go, even as they pass Lady Sansa on the way to his chambers. She distantly wonders what the repercussions will be for this, what kind of conversations he's going to have now, if her known presence is going to be a problem. Her eyes don't stray from the gift in her hands, even as he stands her in front of the hearth and whispers to Ser Davos right outside his doors that he doesn't want to be disturbed before closing them.
Andrea sets the bear down on the table near Jon's bed and takes off her gloves, watching him start a fire. He then turns to her and his hands hesitate near her arms, fingers brushing over her cloak.
"Probably should take this off."
He's not wrong, the fabric is damp, she can feel it rest heavily on her shoulders. She nods and allows him to unclasp it before he lays it over the back of a chair. His gloves and cloak go next, his hand running through her long hair, playing with the strands at the ends.
"Think your hair has ice in it." He teases, a soft smile toying with the corners of his mouth.
Andrea allows herself to smile, doesn't fight it even though grief is still sitting heavily in her chest, right under her ribs. "I wouldn't be surprised." She clears her throat, trying again. "Thank you for the gift. I don't…want you to think I didn't like it."
Jon's fingers trace her jawline, thumb pausing on her lower lip a moment. "Unless you kiss people when you're angry," A soft laugh leaves her chest, "I'd suspect it was taken well."
"I just didn't mean to…" She trails off, shaking her head, her eyes falling to the floor. She licks her lips, wants to explain somehow.
Luckily, she doesn't have to because Jon's hand moves to rest on the back of her neck, squeezing gently until she meets his eyes again. "It's alright. You have nothing to be sorry for."
Andrea smiles, leans forward until her forehead is resting against his nose and lips. She stays there for a moment, her hands against the leather on his chest, body trembling—but that's probably because his mouth moves to kiss her temple, then directly under her ear, before her neck. Its feather light, not hinting at anything more, yet it seems to set off a wildfire in her veins.
Their eyes meet and he brushes their lips together, teasing.
"Not going to freeze to death on me, are you?" He smirks against her mouth in an incredibly frustrating way.
"Not if you keep doing that." Andrea whispers back, nipping at his lower lip.
This time, Jon shudders and she can't help the satisfied thrill that runs through her body. He kisses her again, taking his time, backing her up into the table. She lifts herself to sit on the edge, his body pressing itself between her legs. Andrea wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, kissing him greedily, like she might not get another chance again once she leaves this room.
His hands fall to the small of her back, gathering fabric between his fingertips. She finds herself pulling at the leather that's strapped and buckled to his chest, yanking until some of it comes free. Jon shrugs it off, tossing it to the side. She pulls back, panting softly, going to kiss his shoulder blades but caught off guard by the scars on his chest.
Andrea traces one with her fingers, the crescent moon mark right over his heart. He tenses, she can feel it under her fingertips. Before he can pull away, she leans forward and presses a kiss to it before kissing him again, her hands falling to his small waist. She doesn't ask him what's happened and he seems relieved that she doesn't prod; licking into her mouth, her fingers digging into his skin.
A soft moan leaves his lips, empties into her, which lights a fire between her thighs. She aches for him, wants him to touch her everywhere all at once—she finally has to encourage his hands to tear at her dress. She doesn't care that she only has a few of them, she just wants the fabric off. He cups her one breast when they're exposed, his thumb working circles over her nipple.
"Jon," She sighs out, the first time his name has ever left her lips like this. "Please."
Her hips stutter at the sensation, wanting friction. Her hand wanders down between them, tracing the outline of his cock through his trousers. A groan hisses between his teeth, her thumb pressing along his length. She then tugs the strings so there's no fabric left between them, her dress finally removed, lying in pathetic strips on the table.
Jon wraps an arm around her, almost tugging her off the table, the furniture skidding loudly across the floor as he pulls her towards him. She laughs a little, can't help it, a smile matching her response as he kisses her again. She reaches down to grasp him, lining them up perfectly, groaning as he slides inside of her.
He doesn't move for a moment, adjusting, feeling one another completely.
Andrea wraps her legs around him, a soft whine tearing at her throat. She wants him to move, he needs to move. She rolls her hips, fingernails digging into his back, his hands working their way through her hair. He takes her initiative and thrusts into her, their hips beginning a nice rhythm that have them grasping onto one another like anchors.
Heat blooms in her chest and leaves petals throughout body, her eyes slipping closed as his lips move to her neck again. He kisses her pulse point, his hips picking up a pace, gentle groans echoing out against her throat.
They quickly become one in their movements, a dull ache beginning inside her, a frustrated whine sounding as she needs more. More, more. Jon understands her without speaking, pulling her even closer, angling his hips so he goes deeper, hitting that very same spot over and over.
A gasp claws out of her lungs, her entire body shuddering. She's close to having that feeling swallow her up completely, like a wave of water crashing down, hard, against her chest. He pulls his head back so he can look at her, their eyes meeting and not straying from that as he rolls his hips.
Their lips brush, teasing kisses, not quite there but just enough. He nips at her upper lip and when his hand moves to cup her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone like he's trying to remember every part of her in this moment, that's when she lets herself go.
Her eyes squeeze shut, her body wracking with shudders, soft murmurs leaving her lips over and over—she pushes him over his edge and he finishes with one more thrust inside of her. His body rests heavily against hers, skin kissed with sweat, his lips brushing over her shoulder as she kisses his collarbone.
Andrea brings her one hand up and tangles her fingers in his hair, undoes the bun that rests at the crown of his head and strokes through his strands. He's beautiful, of course, curls framing his face just as she thought they would.
He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth when he pulls back, sliding out of her and almost making her feel hollow inside, missing him already. He grabs a fur from his bed, wrapping it around her shoulders before taking a few others and lying them down in front of the fire.
She gets up off the table and joins him on the floor, her cheeks kissed pink. She's glowing, she has to be, she can feel it when she smiles. "Won't you be cold?"
He gets hold of the fur that's around her and tugs so she's straddling his legs, "We're sharing this; nothing keeps you warm quite like body heat."
They meet again in a soft kiss, before Jon wraps his arms around her and lies them down.