Hey guys - sorry about the delay. In response to a note I got last time - yes this story does involve an Arya/ Jon Snow romance, so if that's a deal breaker for you sorry!

Jon

He stood stock still, his arms still wrapped around him as her soft lips assaulted his own. A voice in his mind told him it was wrong but it was quickly silenced as she shifted in his arms, pressing herself against him. Suddenly he was kissing her back feverously, his arms wrapping around her greedily. She moaned pleadingly and her hands came up around his neck, burying themselves in his hair. Gods she was so soft… so hot… so…

Her hands moved down his torso and jerked at his shirt, pulling it free of his britches hungrily. The friction against his lower abs only increased the tension building in his groin but the movement was enough to make him realize what he was doing he broke the kiss with a gasp, catching her hands before they could do any more damage.

"Stop. We shouldn't…"

"Why?"

"Because its wrong."

"It's not. I want you to show me."

"Arya I can't—"

"Liar. You were about to before you stopped yourself."

I can't! Ok? God's above!" he shouted his mind a queer mix of anger and lust. He needed to get out of this tent, he needed air...

She cocked her head at him appraisingly, her eyebrows raising in disbelief.

"Really? I knew you were more discrete than Robb and Theon when we were children but I had no idea… and all this time? Not even once? It's no matter though, I know how it's supposed to work, we can learn together."

He felt heat rise in his cheeks, as his mind flashed back to the scenes of lust from his time with Ygritte, wondering in spite of himself which lesson she'd want to get first. Gods in heaven.

"That's none of your business, and that's not what I meant. I didn't mean I am incapable of showing you, I meant my honor will not allow me. You're a Stark of Winterfell and you'll not lose your maidenhead to any man but your husband. It wouldn't be right."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Jon how many times do I have to tell you, the days of being a highborn lady are long behind me. I almost lost my maidenhead to Ramsay Bolton tonight, I would have had the milk of poppy not sunk in when it did. Is that what you want for me? You want my maidenhead going to the first man who bests me in a fight? Because one day Jon, it will happen. Valar Morghulis – all men must die. But when I do, I'd rather not go with my virgin's blood still wet on my thighs if it's all the same to you."

His hands fisted in rage at the thought. He grabbed her hips, gripping the loathsome trousers she was wearing and barely resisted the urge to tear them from her body.

"I would never let that happen," he said, staring her in the eyes as he did to show her how much he meant it. Instead of filling with relief as another girl's might have hers just flashed in anger at his words.

"You can't stop it with promises Jon! Can't you see how little promises of protection mean to me after all these years? No one knows the future and I don't begrudge you for not being able to assure me of how it will go. But you can stop that fate with action, and I can see that you want to, so I don't see what the bloody problem is."

He released her hips huffing in fury, and turned from her, bending to gather up his things. He'd sleep in the snow outside if he must, but he needed to get out of this tent. Just as he was about to leave, she came up behind him, pressing her body against his side and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I haven't told you everything. It excited me. When I saw Ramsay's cock stiffen in his breeches while we were fighting it excited me in spite of myself. When I sleep next to you and feel you hard against my back it excites me too, so much I feel as if I'll explode if I don't get relief from it. I want to know about that feeling Jon, and I won't stop until I do. If you won't show me, I'll find somebody else who will."

He growled in fury and whipped around, pulling her against himself and kissing her ferociously. There is only so much prompting a man can take.

She moaned softly into their kiss and her fingers renewed their efforts at the hem of his shirt. They broke the kiss just long enough for her to pull it hastily over his head and then she was back in his arms, her bodiced breasts pressing tantalizingly against his bare chest. She ran her hands greedily over his torso exploring, seeming to marvel at the smattering of dark hair that had sprouted there since she had last seen him without a shirt. Her hands worked their way down over his abdomen and her teasing fingers seemed to send a jolt of excitement straight to his groin. He was just thinking that it was time for him to get her out of her bodice and get a better look at those exquisite breasts he'd glanced the other night when she dropped to her knees in front of him, fingers reaching greedily for the stays in his trousers.

Mother be merciful.

"What- what in the seven hells do you think you're doing?"

She gave him a pointed look as if he were incredibly dim. "This is how you're supposed to start it. I've seen it done in Braavos. I take your cock out and—"

He stifled a groan as the offending member jumped at the suggestion. His baser half volunteered bravely to let her do things her way but he suppressed the thought, removing her hands from his stays and pulling her to her feet.

"Arya that's not—what I mean to say is what you've seen, you've seen mostly in whore houses correct?"

She nodded, giving him a look that told him she was unsure why this was particularly relevant.

"Well, what they do in whore houses, it's different than what people do who care for one another."

She nodded, seeming to consider this for a second and then said casually. "Alright then. Show me both."

Gods in heaven. He shook his head to clear his mind of the images that began to fill it.

"I can't. That is to say I can't show you both tonight," he added hastily, seeing her jaw square for an argument, "men can't do such things over again so quickly we need time to recover. Besides you want like the things they do in whore houses, they're designed only to give a man pleasure, women get nothing out of them."

She nodded again, her eyes fixed on his attentively.

"For tonight, all I can show you is how to relieve that feeling you were describing. Are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

"Yes." She said without hesitation. "Show me."

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Come here then," he said in a voice so husky that he hardly recognized it as his own.

She came back into his arms and he kissed her, slowly this time. His hands worked between them, skillfully undoing the laces of her bodice and pulling the strings free loop by loop. Her unbound breasts surged forward and he brushed the curve of one lightly, but didn't stop in his work. He felt her shiver at the contact and wished death and destruction upon whomever was responsible for bodices taking so long to unlace properly, but stayed the course nonetheless. Finally she was free of the garment, standing before him in her loose shirt and those accursed trousers. His hands itched to yank the shirt off immediately but he stayed himself, reaching instead to cup her breasts with the thin linen barrier still in place. Her nipples were already hard, and he slowly rubbed the pad of his thumb across them, dragging the fabric along as he went. She inhaled sharply, breaking their kiss and throwing her head back in pleasure, while arching her breasts deeper into his hands.

"Jon…" she gasped as he repeated the motion on her other breast, "Oh Jon I want…"

She was weak in the knees he could tell, leaning her hips against him and gripping him for support. Gods she was so responsive.

"What do you want?" he heard himself ask huskily, lift the shirt at last from her frame to reveal her beautiful swollen breasts.

"you—Oh gods Jon!" her exclamation came as he bent his head and took her one nipple into his mouth, his beard rasping against the soft flesh of her chest while his hand continued to massage the other breast expertly.

He growled and continued his attentions until she was so weak kneed that he thought she might collapse if he released his hold on her back. He scooped her up into his arms then, and laid her out gently on his pallet. She was magnificent to behold; writhing around impatiently and begging him to join her with her eyes.

Before he would lay down beside her though these accursed trousers had to go. He undid the stays and ripped them from her body in one swift move, tearing them in a renewed fury that anything of Ramsay Bolton's had been allowed to touch her.

He glanced back down at her, only to realize that she'd forgone her small clothes for the day and was now laying before him stark naked. He sent a prayer to the Old Gods, begging for the strength he'd need to stick to his original plan. Then he dropped on the pallet beside her, and set his hands and mouth to work.

When he felt her find her release, he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, and then before he could give her or his baser side time to protest, strode through the tent and out into the cold darkness of the night. He heard her call after him but stayed his course, he'd be damned if he would defile her with his unworthy lust any more than he already had.