Jon POV,

In all honesty, Jon expected Robb would push him off – tell him it was enough joking for one day, laugh it off, wipe at his mouth, stare at him in shock – you know, do all of the stuff you would normally do if your brother kissed you. So when his brother looked at him, with those unreadable eyes of his and said "I am very much so.", his heart almost stopped beating. What did he mean by that? Did he actually want to keep doing this, whatever it was they were doing? Didn't he mind that they were brothers? Or was he just that desperate to feel something other than misery that blood and such things no longer mattered to him? Questions ran through his mind, in the few seconds while he felt Jon's breath on his face – enjoyed his warmth, and smelled the scent of sweat and skin that radiated from him and his bare chest. Who was he to judge anyway? Things like family, or blood, hadn't mattered that much to him ever since he'd first found out he'd fallen in love with someone he definitely shouldn't have fallen for. He'd never had an actual family – and if he'd had any form of family it would have been in his younger siblings. Robb – despite the fact he'd always considered him a brother, he was more than that. He was more than just simple family, or blood to Jon. Because if there was a soul mate in this world, someone who was everything you're not, someone you fit you so completely not with their body but with their soul – their existence – there would be no one on this Earth who could be his soul mate, besides Robb. And so what if they were half-siblings? It wasn't something he'd chosen, it was the hand fate had dealt him. To have a soul mate in a sibling – the kind of soul mate that losing him would stop your breathing, the kind of soul mate who'd made it especially easy to fall in love with despite honor, and family and glory. There was nothing left for him – only Robb. So who was he to judge?

It was Robb now who kissed him, and pressed their bodies closer together – so close he could feel Robb's erection pressing into his thighs. He'd reacted – which was good news at the very least, the fact that he was able to react. When Robb sucked at his lower lip, a strange whisper came out of his mouth – almost a silent groan – because this had been the one thing he'd missed since that night with the wine; feeling his tongue and his teeth on his lower lip – the lip that sometimes seemed to tingle with that sweet pain, despite the amount of time that had passed since. Robb lips pressed against him so tightly, with such furious need, that Jon thought for a moment he might faint – because this feeling of extreme pleasure seemed too much for him, a boy who'd known only torment and pain for as long as he could remember. He felt Robb's fingers twisting in his hair, pulling, as if he was trying to pull him even closer than he already was – as if he was trying to fuse their bodies together. Not that Jon would mind that – because there didn't seem to be any other way to quench this insatiable thirst he felt for Robb, even know, as his tongue explored the inside of his mouth, as his hands clutched at his hair, or pressed into his back or chest, the thirst was still here – wanting more, always wanting more – as if he was a thirsty man in a Sahara that had finally found water, but the thirst would always linger within him, as if a memory, a need. "Do you even want me?" He heard Robb's voice through the haze of pleasure – but the question sounded so ridiculous Jon had to resist the urge to laugh, because Robb's face showed his was serious, the sadness returning back to it. Was that what Robb was so afraid of? People rejecting him? People leaving him? People not wanting him? Was that why he was doing this, with his brother, because he knew his brother would never reject him anything? Gods, how he could even ask such a question was beyond him. He was about to open his mouth to explain how stupid that question was, when Robb gently caressed his cheek – not the way you would caress someone you were just sleeping with for entertainment and to take your mind from things. No, it was the kind of caress you would give to someone you cared for, someone you loved – and for a short moment until Robb spoke, Jon allowed himself the utter happiness of imagining that Robb had felt about him the same way Jon felt about his brother – something he knew was an impossible love but even so, it was his love, and no one could take it away. "You know, you deserve much better than myself." When he spoke those words though, something in side of Jon snapped, and a fury consumed him. Had he seriously said that? That the bastard son deserved better than the King of the North? Jon wasn't sure whether to laugh, or cry at this bizarre thought. It was Robb who deserved better – he deserved better than to be pinned down on this cot by his brother, better than being lusted after by a man. He deserved the life of a King that he was – a beautiful wife of some Nobleman at his side, a wife that would give him adorable children and happiness – an existence Jon could never provide him, but would sell his soul if he could. How could he say such stupid things. "Shut up." Jon bellowed, anger boiling inside him as he untied the hooded cloak that still resided around his shoulders and took of the shirt and furs he wore below it. He pressed his bare chest against Robb's – heartbeat sounding over heartbeat – and it seemed like they sounded in unison, as if they were one, which only pained Jon further. He trailed his thumb over Robb's lips, gently, much gentler than any of the kisses they'd shared had been, and leaned towards his ear. "Does it look like I want someone else?" He whispered gently, his voice still husky with the anger, as he bit down on his earlobe – licking it after.

He trailed kisses down his neck, gently, and slowly, sucking certain parts of it – but not hard enough to leave a mark – despite this overwhelming desire to mark Robb as his own, to leave a trace that he belonged to Jon, he knew that such a thing wasn't true, and that explaining how he got the marks would be tricky later on. His kisses lead him down the collar bone, and to the chest he always admired from a distance. His thumb ran over the nipple he'd touched a year ago, almost reminiscing in his mind for a second before being pulled to this blissful reality – and he pressed his hot lips against it. His tongue ran a circle around the nipple, and over it, gentle but still demanding – whishing he'd done that a year ago and had not waited for now – as his thumb ran over the one on the other side. His other hand reached over to touch the bulge in Robb's pants, and he felt a shiver rock Robb's body, as his hands grasped it, rubbing it gently. He wanted to look up, he wanted to see his brothers face, he wanted to see the emotion that played there – but he was afraid, so afraid. He wanted him to love Jon. Gods, he wanted it so much it was like a bottomless pit of despair had form itself inside him. He wished they were just farm boys, or regular folk, no one important – not a man who needed to produce an heir eventually, and a bastard of someone who produced one too many. He wished they lived in a world where Robb loved him, and could allow himself to love him. He wished so hard, it felt like it was tearing his soul in two, as he leaned his forehead against his brothers chest, warm breath tickling the nipple he'd been kissing. He wished he wouldn't love Robb so much. "Robb." The name came out of his voice with so much emotion, a blind man would know what it meant, his voice shivering. "Robb." He repeated it silently, so it sounded almost like a prayer. A prayer to any of the Gods, or all of them. It didn't matter what happened to him, it didn't matter if he died or lived the rest of his life in torture – as long as he could have this. Gods, please just let him have Robb, and he would pay any price.

Robb POV,

Breath shallow, Robb closed his eyes and let Jon prove that his words were true. That he did want this, that he wasn't doing this to just get a rise out of the Stark, that he wasn't doing it just to bring him out of the almost comatose state he found himself drifting towards. Soft pants left his mouth when Jon's tongue found his taut nipples, the warmth of his mouth almost making him melt beneath his brother. His mind had been so far away, that when he felt the hand on his groin, his whole body trembled. It wasn't a horrible feeling at all, it was pleasure at its greatest and Robb's hands grasped Jon's hair tighter. "Your teasing is not fair, Snow." He murmured, his breath coming out in short spurts. He just wanted all of Jon, he wanted to bury himself inside him and take him as he should have a year ago. Untangling his hands from Jon's locks he dropped his hands to his pants, untying the cords on his pants. "Stay here, don't make a sound." He pushed Jon back and placed his lips on his before standing. He felt like he was floating as he walked to the opening of his tent, sticking his head out. "If anyone dares near the tent, attack...If it's Jeyne," His voice dropped lower, so Jon could not hear. "Advance, but do not hurt her, only scare her away." He gave the wolf a pat on the head and drew the tent shut tightly.

He turned on his heel and looked back at Jon, a small smile on his lips. He didn't want Jeyne - he wanted Jon. His mind faltered to the woman he had bedded only days before, in a haste to make himself feel better. She had tended to wound he sustained during one of the battles and he had found himself desperate and needed something to take his mind away from all the matters, but that night he found himself stricken with horror. He could barely keep it up that night and he had forced himself to see Jon before him and not her. It might this night so much better and as he crossed the short length back to Jon, he pulled Jon into him and kissed him fiercely. He kissed from his lips to his jaw, lightly biting as he reached his neck, taking his skin in his mouth, sucking hard. He could leave all the marks he wanted on Jon, because it wouldn't matter. No one would know who it was that left them and if Jon had left the watch, they would figure it was for one of two reasons. He had met a girl and they had run away together or he had come here to join Robb at war. How would they know that he hadn't bedded someone on his way here? They wouldn't. Falling to his knees in front of Jon, Robb worked his fingers through the laces of Jon's pants and pulled at them, his cobalt hues watching his brother's face.

His hands pulled the trousers down and he took Jon's length in his hand, stroking him. He had touched a man like this and he found himself nervous. He wasn't sure if he was even doing it right. He stood and let go, pushing Jon towards the fur lined cot "Forgive me if I do this wrong." He spoke softly, pushing Jon back, before sitting down beside him, his hand moving along Jon's manhood in quicker strokes. He leaned up, pressing his lips against Jon's again, his tongue making swirling motions inside his mouth. He wanted to taste him, but he would let Jon tell him what he wanted, if he would even do so.

Jon POV

Jon couldn't help but enjoy this whiff of power he felt – the ability to make Robb produce sounds like that, sounds that were so much better than they had been in his dreams. The feel of his fingers grasping his hair, made Jon want to moan himself – but he kept himself in check, after all, he was supposed to make Robb feel better right? Not allow himself to fulfill his dirty fantasies. He heard Robb mutter something about him not being fair, which made him grin, as his teeth grazes his nipple gently, and his thumb and hand ran over his bulge with more strength and speed. "Who ever said I would play fair, Stark?" He said, a smirk in his voice, as he raised his eyes to meet his brother, a devious glimmer in them. Robb's hands moved from Jon's hair, and went to undoing his own pants – which made Jon silently chuckle – someone was obviously eager. Which is why he was slightly surprised when Robb told him to stay in place, and gave him another kiss before standing. Was this it? Was this all he needed? A little bit of arousal and now he's going to go find someone else? No he'd said to stay here, and Robb wasn't the kind of man who would do such a thing – then again until this moment Jon hadn't thought Robb was the kind of man to act this way with his brother. Letting out a sigh that sounded more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time, and he threw himself against the pillow. What was he doing? One of his hands covered his eyes, while the other rested on his chest. He'd told himself he wouldn't go there, that he wouldn't get physical with Robb, when it meant more to him than it did for his brother. When he knew that there would be no way he could go back after this – if a passionate kiss was enough to make him yearning and to taint his memory every moment of every day for a year, he wondered desperately what this would do to his mind. It was too late though, he noted as his hand went from his chest to the bulge in his own pants, he couldn't bare to just stand up and walk away nor, he was too aroused for that and he didn't have that much strength of will – he didn't have much of anything when it came to Robb, it was like he stripped him of his reason and sanity and everything except this deep love and lust he felt for him. He heard Robb talking – probably to Grey Wind – but nothing much caught his attention, until he heard a females name mentioned.

"If it's Jeyne," his brother had said, and then his voice became too silent for Jon to hear. Jayne. The name made Jon have a vile taste in his mouth – that he knew quite well was likely jealous. So Robb had a girl in his life, that he knew well enough to call her by her first name. A girl that obviously wasn't a whore, because whores don't just come to your tent uninvited. This was someone he knew, someone that had probably been a part of his life, while Jon had been stuck on that Wall, spending every minute thinking about the brother he could never have. Why was he so surprised though? Why did it hurt so badly, he felt like he would cry out in pain? He knew this was just sex. He knew that for Robb, there were no emotions behind it – just curiosity and pleasure probably. He knew Robb would have to find a woman and marry – he just didn't think it would happen so soon, and that he would be close enough to watch it develop. His sour mood didn't last long though, because Robb was there, and he was pulling him into his arms, and he was kissing him, and his tongue was doing things Jon couldn't even imagine, and he was leaving marks on his neck that Jon was secretly glad for – he didn't care if he was discovered to be a freak or something anyway, he'd always been a bastard, might as well add bastard who loved his brother – wear what you are as a shield, someone had once told him. Then his brother fell to his knees, and Jon immediately looked down to see if he was alright – but his brother was already untying the lace on his pants, his blue eyes fixed on Jon. Jon's eyes widened at the sight – his brother, the King of the North, on his knees in front of the bastard son – it somehow didn't feel right. He should be the one kneeling, he should be the one giving his brother pleasure. And he was just about to open his mouth and voice his mind when his brother took hold of his manhood, and started stroking it with awkward movements that made it obvious he'd never done this before – and there was this sick feeling of gratitude over that fact somewhere within Jon. But as soon as he felt Robb's hand, stroke him, like he'd touched himself so many times imagining it was Robb doing it, his whole mind exploded and all rationality and sense disappeared – everything but the feel of his brothers hand stroking his throbbing cock that was growing with each movement of his hand. Jon's fingers tangled into Robb's hair, pulling it, because he couldn't grasp anything else, moans of pleasure leaving his mouth. Far too soon for comfort, Robb had stood up and let go – and Jon who had grown to be even more hard than he was, was ready to stab his brother with a sword if he'd left him like this. But it seemed that had been just the beginning as his brother pushed him on the cot and took his seat next to him, saying something Jon couldn't even understand.

Wrong? What was wrong? Well, this probably qualified as very wrong, since brothers didn't usually do this kind of thing. But seriously, even if it was wrong, it was far too late to stop now – and he hoped Robb felt the same about that. As if in response to his thoughts, Robb's hand found its way back to his hot cock, and started moving with swifter motions again, which made Jon clutch onto the fabric on the bed, and bite down on his fist to stop from making too much noise. That was when Robb's lips came crashing on his own, his hand still making him feel more pleasure with each stroke, and his tongue exploring his mouth with a passion – at which Jon couldn't help himself and a grunted moan escaped into Robb's mouth, as he clutched to his brothers hair, as if it was the thing keeping him bound to Earth – keeping him from simply floating into space, because that was exactly how he felt, like he was floating. But he didn't want to be the only one feeling it, it didn't seem right, because he was here to make Robb feel better, wasn't he? He could barely remember what he came here for in the first place, now, consumed with this feeling of burning pleasure as all the blood in his body focused on the part Robb's hand was rubbing passionately. "You Stark's, you talk too much." He mumbled now in response to his pervious statement, that seemed to have been spoken ages, ago, his voice rough with passion. His hand took hold of his chin, and he made his brother face him directly – his breath coming out in fast and shallow gasps. "If you stop doing that, I'll kill you." He muttered, his voice serious, before his eyes rolled back, and he pushed his head back, enjoying the wave of pleasure that rocked him. He didn't want to come yet, but Gods, if he allowed himself he could. He'd been ready to come from that first kiss, that first touch, that first caress – this was pushing it. His hand left his face and went down Robb's stomach and into his pants, pulling his dick out and mimicking the motions Robb was making. His cock was already wet, seeping, just as aroused as Jon had been, and he let out another moan of pleasure at the thought, that Robb was feeling the same as he was. His hands were firm, as they glided over his manhood, playing with a few fast movements, and slowing down before he picked the pace up again. He pushed himself further onto the bed, pulling Robb with him – one hand still stroking his cock as the other tugged at his neck and the hair there – so that they were now facing each other, their legs a tangled mess, where you could barely see which limb belong to who – so close Jon's head was leaning on Robb's shoulder, he took a few sharp breaths, before he leaned his forehead against his brothers. Using his index finger, he caressed the tip of his cock, as his other fingers slid gently along the rest of it. His tongue licked Robb's lower lip, and his teeth gently nibbled on it. "Do you like that, Stark?" he teased, his voice hoarse, as he quickened the speed his hand moved. "Do you want to feel more of me?" He asked, using the hand that was tangled in the back of his hair, to pull his head up, so that his neck was revealed – and he licked and kissed it, his eyes closed. Oh yes, Winter was coming. But Snow would make sure the Stark came first.