I've just put this on- I haven't thoroughly checked it though. Still got to sort out internet at my new place.

Sansa woke up, feeling sticky. It wasn't a bother to her. Well, it wasn't a good way to wake up- but there was a reason and it was a necessary evil for...progress. Odd how a beautiful act- 'yes she just referred to an act she once hated- as beautiful' – but it was funny how something so beautiful, was so messy. She rolled over to her husband, he was still there, snoozing. Jon normally rose before her, tired out perhaps? She blushed despite there being nobody present to observe or listen to her thoughts.

Sansa snuggled up to him, pulling the covers up to their chins- well she took a quick peep beforehand. She drifted off to sleep again with a smile on her face, serenaded by her husband's breathing.

She didn't know what time it was when she woke up, but she felt her mouth being kissed, it arose her from her slumber. Her lashes fluttered, and she stared into his eyes, silently. Her husband's silence was also unbroken, even when their faces split with serene smiles. Jon nudged up to her, butting her forehead, he was trying to get under her head- to feel it's weight, and absorb her essence from between her cheek and pillow. The presence of beard made her feel at home. If only she could grow her own- oh Sansa, you're so silly. She wanted to put both arms around him, she had to make do with one. But she made the most of it, stroking that toned back. He was doing the same, putting an extra bit of pressure, so their chests were flush against one another. They were still very naked, so the contact was warm, and arousing. Yes, she can admit, this was certainly arousing. Their faces levelled, they were nose to nose. They then kissed languorously, and rolled about, tangling themselves in the sheets. Sansa leaned back, her head hanging off the bed, eyes closed, enjoying his lip caresses. When she opened her eyes again with a hum, she found the sunlight misting the window, as if shining from directly above the castle. "Jon?"

"The answer is yes, always yes." Jon murmured into her flesh. "Morning, noon, and night." He placed a knee between her legs.

Oh, he wanted to take her again, please have mercy, this man would drive a septa wild with lust. "I think you're right about 'noon.'" Sansa said, the sunlight mocking them.

"Huh?"

Sansa craned her neck from its slump off the bed. Jon looked like an animal this morning- and it sent her heart aflutter. "I think it's noon. Look." She stretched her arm up to point at the window above her head, her other arm followed when he failed to look, he had been busy studying her. But since both her arms were up, it accentuated her meatless chest cavity, and full breasts, untouched by age and sun. A part of her believed she had done it on purpose to goad him into another heated session. Her voice husked."We have slept away the morning, neglected our routine, what will they think of us?"

"Fuck 'em."Jon growled, and mouthed her bust zealously, she laughed at the descent into debauchery. "My duties consist of you." He rumbled over her nipple, and her laughter died into a breathy moan. The noises he was making were reminiscent of wolf pups playing; with mouthful growls and rumbles.

She only just managed to piece a sentence. "But still...my love...my maids have probably been by...and failed to get the door open... They will know...gods, they will know."

"And so they should!" He announced, burying his face between the mountains of milk and rose. Sansa was inciting him, ruffling his hair, and holding him there. "How am I 'to King'...with you...lounging in this chamber...hmm...waiting...for me." They had lost the ability to speak.

"We're...toxic."

"You're better than sweet-wine, wife." He finally left her bosom, staring at her heatedly. "Am I better than lemon cakes?"

"Don't you dare make me choose between you and my babies!" Sansa said with mock horror, and there was further descent into debauchery. He was grinding into her, preparing her for another...

KNOCK KNOCK.

FUCK! "What?!" Jon called behind him, still above and between his wife, she was looking at him, covering her mouth, to stifle her shameful hysteria.

"It's only me, Davos. Just to let you know- it's past noon..."

Jon rolled his eyes, he knew his advisor was merely snooping- and so he descended to peck his wife's lips, they pecked like birds, something he never would have done had he not known Sansa, and her gentle ways. Gods, she had the beauty and sweetness of a maid, but the raw sensuality of a fertility goddess in need of sowing. He was grunting again, and his wife gave him a tap on the cheek in warning, and pointed to the door.

"-We've had a raven back from the wall."

Jon and Sansa shared a look, lips still pursued."And?" They said in unison.

"It's still up." They sighed in relief, but Davos continued. "They're requesting more men, they grow anxious, the white walkers are visible from the wall, they have stalled- as if waiting for something...it certainly makes me edgy."

Jon held his wife in a embrace, but kept a void so he could reply to the older gent on the other side of the door."I will get around to doing that, perhaps you could send some guards to the neighbouring villagers to collect some miscreants? We might have to resort to sending my whole army to the wall, tell the men of my intentions..." The King waited for Davos to leave. He didn't. Jon drew back slightly to look at the door. What's he want, a warrant?

"I hope you both slept well, your graces, it appears we have a busy day."

The king sighed and got onto his knees over his wife. "Yes, very...restful." His wife reached up and pinched his nipple and he mouthed an elaborate 'Ouch' at her. He grabbed her hand, and of course, she had a spare, with which she cheekily went for his other nipple, while biting her tongue in a suggestive manner. "Ah." He uttered, and he snared the other hand, to restrain her. "You little-"- fertility goddess.

"-The Tarly party are getting restless, I think they are planning to head south for warmth."

"Alright, I suppose I can't stop them." He crossed her wrists across her chest and held them there, she was fighting to get to him, biting her lip to contain herself. "I take it Sam has tried to sway them, they aren't buying the whole white walker plight?"

"You'd be right, your grace." He had a chuckle in his voice.

Jon snared his wife's pillow and tucked it under her head, she twisted on it wondering -why he had done that? "Is that all?" He clambered in between his wife's legs, kneeing them further apart. The sheets were rustling as Sansa playfully tried to free her arms. She wriggled like she was ticklish.

For Sansa, the bliss of last night still hung in the air, but she felt a little unclean. They were on damp sheets, and she had traces of 'stuff' around her intimate area. She supposed she would have to get use to that, but would that mean she had to be ready at all times for love making? Like before. Stop that!- You're over that! If your husband wants to bed you, let him bed you. She felt she needed to be clean first, shouldn't they have each other fresh?- He must not mind.

'Can I?' He mouthed at her, and she cocked her head in a adorable manner. "Can I?" He whispered.

"If you must." Glancing at the door.

Jon pulled a face. "Come on." His jovial manner crept into his voice.

"But I just said if you must, then do it." Sansa gave him a straight lipped smile.

"You had an odd tone."

Sansa screwed up her face. "I don't think so, I granted permission...how can I have a tone?" She did a little shimmy under him. "You're the one that normally has a tone." She brushed the hair on his arms, and he dipped to kiss her again.

"What's wrong?" His tone was sweet, and it put her at ease.

"I'm sticky." She said honestly, shimmying again. "It's...you know."

Jon frowned, and his hand disappeared between them, and she raised her head from the pillow to see what he was doing. She felt him fawn over her thighs, mound and then between. Her chest cavity heaved a little with the attention he paid to her flower. He was gently rolling his finger against her, watching her as he did the night before. "You feel alright to me, would you feel better if we did something first?"

That was a tone, a tone she liked; the heated one. And her breath hitched. "Erm..." She wet her lips. "C -could I just water why inner thighs?"

Jon's eyebrow quirked. "You may, but I don't mind tackiness Sansa, it has a purpose." He looked at her flower, it always made her blush when he looked at it with rapt interest. "I could use my tongue..." Oh gods. Sansa writhed on her pillow at the thought. "Would you like that?" He was good at the power of suggestion.

Cuss. Sansa nearly voiced that little exclamation. Jon hands went to her breasts, and they complied- the nipples that is. She sucked in her lips to contain her moan, it came out as a blissful hum.

"That's a good sign." The King rumbled above her, she hadn't realised she had closed her eyes. "Now can I?"

They heard a cough, then- "Well...the Tarlys." Davos had hesitated for an alarmingly long time- as if he was listening, and they stalled in horror. Oh shit! Sansa covered her mouth like a naughty child. "Their party are malingering-" When the advisor had started to speak, the King thrust into her, she cried behind her hand, she nearly moved off of the bed, the bed jolted and the headboard bumped into the wall. "Whoops, sorry about that, love." He whispered.

"It's alright." She rasped, her eyes squeezed shut.

The advisor stalled again, he had heard something. "The Tarlys wish to have an audience with you before they decide to leave...I'm assuming."

Jon gave a disgruntled sigh, and pulled out of his wife- she made a noise as the fullness left. "Fine, I'll come down."

"I'll call for a squire and a handmaiden."

"No need, we can manage, ser Davos, thank you." The man finally retreated, as did Jon from his wife. He smiled ruefully at her as he set his feet on the ground, she closed her legs politely, sitting up in her pretty ladylike way, despite being naked. "Can't they give me the day off? I'd rather spend it with you."

You mean 'in me.' Sansa pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts, tucking a strand of her hair sweetly behind her ear. He looked deliberately sad at her, she was turning the sheet into a dress, covering her body from his prying eyes. Sansa stood carefully, walking the chamber with her makeshift dress on, she heard her husband grumbling in his throat while watching her, until she disappeared around the divider.

Jon didn't agree with the move. "I was hoping you would stay in bed."

"What, waiting supine for you to come back and ravage me?" Now, she had a tone. "I have stuff to do as well."

"Can you help me get dressed, love?"

She looked shrewdly around the partition, he looked hopeful- and very naked, why was she blushing? "Pass me my nightie." He skirted around, and found it on the floor, he crossed the room with it. She held out an expectant hand, which he ignored and came around the divider. "Oh Jon." He was unabashed with his nudity.

"Oh yes, let me assist you." He fingered the blanket she was holding to herself, and she finally let it drop. They both stood nude behind the divider, like something out of a painting. He made a hole for her with the nightie and pulled it over her head. "There, do you feel better?" He was still eyeing her through the sheer material, and she flushed. He smiled. "Gods Sansa, why are you getting embarrassed?- You sweet thing."

"Your turn." She shambled out into the chamber, with her husband following close, still fingering her hip and stomach. She stopped to pick up his trousers, and he walked into the back of her. Rammed into the back of her. "Oh!" She snapped up. "Jon dear, must you behave like a beast?"

"Yes." He swivelled her around and pulling her flush against him. "You've woken the dragon." She could feel what he meant, his 'dragon' was pressing onto her...'wolf?' "Go on, ruin me again." He rasped into her face, and she drowned him with her big blue eyes. "Oh my sweet." Her eyes were wonderful.

"But the Tarlys want to see you now."She made it worse by stroking his arms. "I don't want a rushed rough love making session." She drew back and pushed him down onto the hope chest, he sat on his sword and sheath by accident.

"Aah." He pulled it out from under him and dropped it onto the floor. "You spur me, woman."

"You spur yourself, man."

They had assisted each other with their clothes. It had taken twice as long as usual. Jon kept taking stuff off like an irritable child; both his and her clothes. The Queen was fighting to stay dressed, but her laughter was encouraging. Stop giggling, he likes it. When they were finally dressed, they dwindled to their areas of the room for the final stages of grooming.

"You know you can ask for it, yer' know? No shame in a woman asking." He was tying his hair back into a bun.

Sansa was brushing her hair, staring at him in the mirror. "Ask for what?"

"You know." He wasn't stupid. Sansa had spent the early afternoon, brushing past him and stroking the stomach of her bodice, and dropping things...just so she could pick them up. It was tactical, she was touchy feely in bed, but once they were up, she didn't do anything other than titillate. Oh, she was playing with him. "You are allowed to approach me when we're dressed, in the middle of the day, and tell me ...you have...a craving."

Sansa did a swivel, just so she could flick her locks in that flirty manner, he believed. "But they ran out of lemons, Jon." She blinked as she had made a valid point. "No lemons, no cake- I only will have lemon cake, it's all I crave."

Jon snorted. "You're very good." He said darkly, with an amiable lilt. She continued brushing her hair, it inflamed him. "I know what you're doing, you want me to be the one to press you- so you feel like you have regained some of your dignity or virtue, my sweetness." It rumbled out of him, sensually. His cock was hurting again. "You are my wife, you are entitled to ask me, gods be damned!"

"A Queen doesn't beg." She murmured so quietly, the King had to replay the rumble to gather what she had said.

"You took control last night, do it again, that isn't begging."

Her eyes had wavered between wide and narrow, as if realising he had heard. "Maybe, but not now...no."

"Well maybe I should leave you here to stew in your own lust?" He made it final he was going to leave, by putting on his gloves. The action made her pause, she watched him flex his hand in the leather, he followed her keen eye. He didn't think something so tedious and simple as gloves could capture a woman's rapt concentration. Jon gave her a quizzing smile. "Maybe I should leave them on next time, would you like that?"

It was as if Sansa had been patted heavily on the cheek, she jarred and flushed. "What?- What do you mean?- Next time for what?...Wait-what have the gloves got to do with this?"

Sam and Davos couldn't stop chortling. The portly gent peered over the balcony, trying to be subtle in his objective. "Look at him!...It's like he's sprouted wings." He was tickled pink, it was a contagious ailment, Davos was grinning abashed as well.

"Stop it." The older gent dragged him away from his stare. "There's only a slight difference...only because you've pointed it out. I saw no obvious change, he still looks...like Jon."

"Moody and broody?" Sam eased, and shook his head. "No..." He was adamant, he tipped his head. "Look at that skip."

Davos studied his King in the courtyard, and snorted. "Well bugger me." Jon had his normal stormy walk but after every forth stride- there was a bounce, before swaggering back into the march. "It's like he's trying to find rhythm in the middle of a dance."

The two men should have been working, but this was too fun. "He wouldn't be able to do that skip if...he still had a heavy load." Sam was very suggestive.

It amazed the advisor how easy it was for this shy gent to be so crude. "I was worried." Davos began, his companion looked shrewd. "I mean with the act, not the King's...load."

"He would have been fine, and he was...look at him." The young man saw his friend begin up a stair that led to their wing of the castle.

"I was worried for Sansa." Davos elaborated. "The Queen isn't keen...and she could have changed her mind at any moment."

"Oh, of course." This was sobering. "He wouldn't have hurt her, you know?- He's quite reserved..."

Both men shared a peculiar look and started chortling again. "Yeah right!"