Jon felt Sam tense and questioned him softly, his breath grazing over Sam's left ear and sending chills of anticipation down the larger boys spine.
"What's wrong Sam?" Jon's voice had a dark husky tone that sent chills up through Sam's shoulders, the need pushing though him like a river rushing over a dam. If he didn't stop now, he never would. "Jon I can't keep doing this. I don't know if you really want me, the real me or if this is some sort of consolation prize because we can't have women. I'm risking just as much as you here. I need to know what is going on in your head. What do you feel for me?" The words fell from his mouth, and this time Ser Piggy found some foothold of confidence because he stood up and pulled his hand away from Jon's lean body and leveled his gaze on the man before him.
Jon sat up on his elbows and listened to Sam's tirade, growing ever more irritated with him by the second and not fully understanding why - but the anger was there growing in his chest and spreading though his body. His lips twisted into a scowl and his eye narrowed.
Silence engulfed the room and a miasma of scorn descended upon both men - Sam unwavering in his strives for dignity and acceptance; Jon steadfast in his refusal to admit what had been happening for the past few days.
Jon's thoughts consumed him as he stood up, wincing at the renewed pounding in his head. He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and tensing his jaw in anger. He was not that much taller than Sam, but at the moment Sam felt like a mouse in the shadow of a giant, a brave foolish little mouse, but a mouse nonetheless. Jon inhaled deeply and took a step up to Sam.
Jon's response was a harsh angry whisper. "Do NOT demand answers from me Sam. You have no right. You are in the same position I am. You cannot expect me give you more than this…right here." He gestured to himself and the chambers they were in, fire popping quietly in the corner. He reached up with his right hand and prodded Sam in the chest accusingly, but his tone lost the edge of anger. "You're my friend Sam, and I don't want to hurt you, but stop trying to analyze this. I won't do it." Jon pulled on his shirt and cloak and boots and was gone in an instant.
Sam was left alone in the room, hands still moist from the oils and the perfume of the salts in the air. He sat in the chair by the fire place and wept. Wept for himself and the unrequited love he had no control over and wept for the loss of his friend.
Later that evening, Jon ate with Grenn and Pyp in the kitchens. After inquiring briefly about Jon's injury, the talk turned to Mole's Town. The underground brothel was to be their destination that evening, since neither man had watch that night. Then and there Jon saw his escape - he would go with them and forget about this catastrophe he had been part of. Pyp looked at him in surprise, but did not question it. Lord Snow's view on honor did not often contain whores, but even the strongest trees lose some leaves in the deep white north. If Jon wants to warm himself in between the thighs of inequity, that was his decision.
The trio departed on with the excuse for going hunting. Everyone knew what they were doing and what they were really hunting but said nothing, all men on the wall are guilty of breaking this rule and turn the cheek to anyone who does so it will be reciprocated when the time comes.
Upon arriving in the brothel, Grenn and Pyp disappear quickly with two homely looking women, all smiles and giggles in the face of the young crows coming for a meal only they could provide. Jon slumped at the bench in the front of the brothel nursing his ale and his honor. A young women sat down quietly beside him and put a hand to his cheek to turn his face to hers. Jon turned to her and glanced suspiciously at the women who halted his dissent into self pity. She was very pretty, dark hair held back loosely and wisps of her ebony tresses cascaded down her naked shoulders. Her dress was modest and unrevealing in itself, but she had the front unbuttoned to a dangerous level, and the way she straddled the bench with her dress hiked up over her thights left no question to her purposes.
"Feeling lonely Ser? Would you like some company?" She eyed him demurely from beneath her lashes. Quite the trick for a whore. Her accent was of the south, perhaps kings landing, but Jon didn't care where she came from. He finished his beer quickly and looked her up and down. This, he hoped, would get his mind of his current failures, and she wouldn't question his intentions. He smiled and nodded "Yes, I would love some company."
She guided him back to her small room, the moans of pleasure and lust echoing from the other rooms, accompanying them on the journey down the hall. He sat back on the bed and watched her remove her clothing, eyeing her soft breasts and aching to taste them.
Sam.
He shook his head from the thought of the fat boy as he watched the whore undo his laces and free him from his pants and begin to stroke him to his fullest before lowering her head to taste him. Jon leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes slowly, thrusting up to driving deep into her mouth, breath becoming ragged as he began to relax.
Sam.
He grabbed her with a grimace as he pulled her mouth off his cock and pushed her back on the bed, intent on freeing his mind from its burden between her creamy white legs. He jerked his pants down and pushed her legs apart and looked at her feminine body, as she stared up at him, yearning for more. "This is what I want. A young girl on my cock squirming beneath me," he reassured to himself as he entered her with a groan, her body tight and wet around him.
Sam.