The rest of Jon's day passed in a haze of worry and stress. He had a job to do, what came over him? He regretted his decision to give into a heated night with Sam. He had never felt that way before, especially not with a man. What was Thorne going to do? What would his father and brother say if they ever found out? A sick feeling crept into his belly and would not leave. "What have I done to myself?" he murmured into his bowl of bean and bacon stew during his midday meal. The hearty aroma of the dish doing little to entice his dwindling appetite, as he poured over his irrational behavior. Yes he cared for Sam, of that there was no doubt, but to make love to a man? He had joined in with the men on several nights cajoling around the mess hall and remarking on Renly Baratheon's affinity for his little peach, Ser Loras, and how no proper man could ever delight in the flesh of another man. Yet here he was, steward to the lord and commander on the Wall and the son (if only a bastard) to Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and he had fallen into bed with a gentle pink boy from the south and had reveled in his flesh.
Every time he tried to drive out the impure thoughts, they would overtake him again replaying in his mind's eye. The way he moaned in pleasure as Sam's lips wrapped his lips around his sensitive length and pulled him toward the edge of release, so slowly Sam sucked him Jon thought he may die with the raging need to grab him by the hair and pound into his warm wet mouth until he found his escape from the torment. But the torment was what he reveled in, and so the night proceeded, shaking his head free of the unclean thoughts
"By the old Gods Jon..stop this," Jon scolded himself aloud, turning around, bowl still full as he passed it to Dolorous Edd, who proffered the bowl with a suspicious glance and narrowed his eyes at Jon. "Never was a sane man give up his bowl 'o stew, unless there be somethin' wrong with it.. did the cook put prunes in it boy? I'm always getting pruned. I figure everyone here is trying to prune me all the time, just for fun." He sighed in self pity and began spooning the thick substance into his mouth.
Leaving the hall with Ghost, he knelt down to pat him behind the ears, glancing about the yard where the men trained, sliding his hand over Long-Claw, thinking some time with a sword in his hand may help clear his head. He stood and trudged through the snow to the armory to see if anyone of the new boys needed some practice or if there was anyone around to spar with...