Jon had always excelled in sums under Maester Luwin's tutelage, and even though his work as Lord Commander and now King in the North had required a sword more often than a ledger, he was still infinitely better at understanding a spreadsheet than Sansa. He was the commander of their armies, but he was leaving her to rule, and so they needed to install a trusted steward. One who could explain what needed to be done, and handle any calculations. Sansa knew how important it was. She was to be the face of the North, and if he fell she would have to pick up the banner and manage without him.

But Sansa turns to their new steward, and politely says, "that will be all."

He gives her a look. They'd discussed this in bed this morning, she knew that they needed to go over it together. She had agreed it was essential to the management of their kingdom.

But now she sighs. "I don't want to look at ledgers. Not now. Aren't there better things to do on your last day here?"

"What's more important than keeping the people fed?"

"I can look after that when you're gone. I'm very competent. But the business of creating an heir… well, I need you here for that."

It brings a smile to his lips, though it shouldn't. "I can't spend my last hours abed. We have responsibilities."

"Not abed. Here…" she stands up and walks over to him, sitting in his lap. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of her eye. "It won't take long. I promise."

It was hard to argue with that.

He kisses her, and she must know she's won for he can feel her smile against his lips. Their kiss doesn't last long, it can't last long. He's to leave before noon to ride North.

Sansa stands up and turns around. "Will you help me?"

He stands and runs his hands through her soft hair before pushing it over one shoulder. She had the prettiest neck, long and thin. He brushed his lips against her smooth skin. She smelled good too. He would miss the way she smelled. Clean, like lavender soap and scented lemon oil, and like sex, too. At the wall people just smelled bad. Sansa leaned her head back onto his shoulder, so they were intertwined like two swans. His hands encircle her waist and he draws her closer.

He bites her neck, and she laughs. He can feel the vibrations against his lips. It would be so easy to tell her now. He had to, didn't he? Could he leave without letting her know that he loved her? That she'd brought him back from the dead, that without her there would be no world to save? Maybe he wouldn't come back. And then she'd never know.

But just because her body wanted him didn't mean she was ready to hear the words, and it certainly didn't mean she felt the same way. The words were on his lips, he could unburden himself. But he didn't think he could handle rejection before he left. He'd rather live a lie, if that's all the past six weeks had been. He caresses Sansa's cheek with his burned hand. He brings her lips to his and swallows down any ill advised love confessions.

They kiss, and this time he lingers on it. If this was the last time he was to hold her he would make the best of it. Sansa breaks away first.

"I thought you were in a rush," she teases.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I need to keep the whole North fed, don't I? Play with my little abacus. Remember to carry the ones."

Jon grins. "Alright then, hitch your skirts up."

"Oh no. You'll want a last look, won't you? It's my duty, for the good of the North." She says it with a smile in her voice, and he can't help but smile too. Her smiles were contagious, always making him feel at ease, unburdening him, like it was just the two of them, here and now. He could live in these moments forever. This is what he was fighting for. He could see it stretched out before his eyes, a lifetime of her smiles. Not just stolen moments. A future, and a child or five.

He helps her with the laces of her corsets.

"Your duty?" he questions. There's no need to hide behind pretence anymore. Almost two moons had passed since they'd said their vows under the Heart Tree. Can she not admit that she just likes it, likes his hands, likes him, likes to be fucked?

"Morale. I can't send off a sullen king, can I? The safety of the North is at stake," she says, and then she laughs once more, all but admitting the charade. He'll let her keep her lies.

Unbound, Sansa turns around. Her dress seems to fall easily to the ground. As though she'd planned this. She's not wearing any small clothes, she must be cold. Her nipples are hard. It doesn't matter how many times he's seen her, he's still mesmerized. If only she knew the power she had between her legs… gods, he almost wanted to scoop her up and steal her away to Essos, the Others be damned.

She pushes him back down into the chair.

Sansa is naked except for silk stockings with little direwolves sewn into them. He clutches her thigh and brushes his thumb against the embroidery. He smiles at the intricacy of her needlework. He must look awful stupid when he looks up at her grinning, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"One last look. To commit me to memory," as if he could forget, "so you can…"

"So I can…?"

She's naked, but it is this that makes her blush. "You know."

"What would you have me do, my lady?" He refuses to help her. He is dirty minded and likes to toy with her. He wants her to spell it out. He wants to know all her filthy thoughts.

"Think of me… before you fall asleep… or… when you're lonely…"

He lets his eyes linger on her cunt, and wets his lips. "Believe me, I'll be thinking of little else."

That's all there was — oblivion, or her. It had been so much easier before she'd rode back into his life on that dying horse. He could've left everything behind, left everyone to fend for themselves. He was angry and bitter and tired and alone. But it was different now. Harder. She hadn't gotten her last moonblood. It could be nothing, it was too soon to tell. But maybe the woman before him carried his child. Maybe they could have everything.

Jon opens his arms. "Come here." Where you belong, where I can protect you.

And she does. She sits in his lap and leans his head onto his shoulder. When they were this close, when he closed his eyes and all he could hear was their breathing, when their hearts seemed to beat as one, he understood why men fought wars for women, why they broke oaths, why they wrote songs. That love was the death of duty.

She must have been thinking the same thing, for when she looked up at him there were tears in her eyes.

"Jon?"

"Hmmm?"

"We love each other, don't we?"

He was struck by the way she asked it, with probing eyes and baited breath. It is not possible for him to soften any more for her, but he does.

"Aye. We do."

"Then you have to come back."

"I'll try."

"You have to. It can't be over yet."

He has no words for her. It would be dishonourable to make a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. He would die for her, but she's asking him to live instead, and that was an infinitely harder task.

So instead he picks her up and sits her on his desk. He drops to his knees.

If this is the last time he'll get a taste of her, he has to make it count. He sucks on her hard and makes circles with his tongue. He can feel her brace herself against his desk. She's whimpering his name, but then her hands are in his hair, pulling him up. He looks up at her.

"Together. There's not enough time."

Jon smiles and thinks back to before they'd wed, before he'd tasted her, when all he'd had was his hand and the fantasies of her that played on loop in his head. They'd nearly driven him to madness.

"I dreamt of having you here."

Sansa's eyes sparkle. "So did I."

"Of pushing everything off my desk and taking you."

"Do it," she whispers.

And so he does. There is not much on his desk, and so it's anticlimactic when the ledger and abacus fall to the ground. But they laugh, and he'll remember the way she looks at him more than he'll remember the curve of her thighs or how her breasts felt in his mouth.

She turns around and he pushes her down into the desk by the back of the neck. He looks down at her and commits this to memory too. Her ass, her spread legs, her cunt. When he enters her she is warm and wet and tight. He takes her from behind and they fuck like animals, like the wolves they are. It's different this time. It's not gentle or slow. But he must leave, they're out of time.

Author's Note: you can find more of my work at theonbaejoys on tumblr.