For Sansa, the past three moons had been torture. She had missed Jon more than she could ever imagine. There were similarities to when he had gone to Dragonstone in their previous life and returned with Daenerys. Even though they had thought themselves siblings at the time, she still felt like part of her was missing. Jon becoming her husband had made the separation worse.

Ghost and Lady followed Jon and Sansa as they made their way to Sansa's childhood bedroom. The fire was already lit, Jon had made sure of that, and a bath was already being prepared for her. They had not spoken a word since the courtyard. They were too bothered about getting to their chambers and being alone together. Too many people would overhear any conversation they had.

Jon closed the door and bolted it, ensuring their privacy, except for Ghost, Lady and the dragon egg. He put the box down and pressed his hands to his temples and screwed up his face.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"The dragon, it's... singing, I think."

Sansa laughed. "A dragon who sings. I hope he is friendly," she said.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Jon opened it. One of the maids was standing outside.

"I'm here to help Lady Whitestark prepare for her bath," she said.

"I'm quite capable of taking my wife's clothes off," Jon replied, much to Sansa's shock. The maid blushed.

"Of course, Lord Whitestark. I'll leave you be," she curtseyed and left.

Once Jon closed the door and turned to Sansa, she started giggling.

"What?" Jon asked.

"You have caused a scandal," Sansa scolded him.

"Why? Am I not allowed to undress my wife? We did it in Queenscrown."

"Of course you are. But for baths, maids are supposed to bathe a Lady," Sansa replied.

Jon pulled Sansa into him, taking her left hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. "You're not a Lady. You are a Queen," he whispered, peppering kisses on her wrist, which sent tingles down Sansa's spine. "And I am a King. Let me enjoy one aspect of my..." he stopped and frowned. Sansa could tell he was uncomfortable with his real identity.

Sansa cupped his face and gave him a loving look. "You will always be Jon to me. No matter whether you are King Aegon or Azor Ahai, or The Prince that was Promised," she smiled and Jon nodded. "Now, shall we have that bath?"

Jon shook his head. "I'm going to bathe you. You just tell me what to do and I will serve you," he gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. "I am all yours."

Sansa didn't know what to say. She had never been given this level of power. Jon had been sweet and gentle before, but he had never suggested she was in complete control. He was the one with experience. However, this was only a bath. Afterwards, he would be in control.

Jon turned her around and hummed. "What is it?" Sansa asked.

"I'm just trying to work out how this contraption works," he said.

Sansa wanted to laugh. As sweet as his idea was, her bath would be icy cold by the time he figured out how to remove this particular dress. Especially as one had to start at the front. She untied the tiny bows which kept the front of her dress in place and removed it. She then worked on the tie which had been concealed underneath.

Jon peeked over her shoulder. "That's cheating," he complained.

"I want a hot bath, Jon," Sansa chided.

"Fine," Jon sighed. She didn't need to see his face to know he was pouting.

Sansa unfastened the kirtle and let it drop to the floor, along with the underskirt. Jon must have realised she was now free, as he pulled the rest of her surcoat over her shoulders. That left her shift, which was fastened by laces at the back. Jon hummed triumphantly as he unfastened the laces. As he revealed her skin, he peppered kisses along the top of her spine, then down the side of her neck, before nibbling her ear.

Jon pulled her shift over her head and helped her out of her small clothes. He never touched her inappropriately, which Sansa appreciated. Not that she didn't want him to touch her like that, in truth she wanted his hands all over her in the most inappropriate manner possible. His lack of touching was a promise to her, one of trust which only a man who loved her and knew her would do.

He took her hand and helped her step into the bath. At all times, he kept his eyes on the floor, never looking at her. Jon was acting like he was her servant. It was very sweet. It was only when she was sat down in the bath, covered in the lemongrass oil scent water, did his eyes drifted towards her in the most adoring manner. Sansa could have wept at the sight.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the whole of Westeros and beyond," he whispered, with a chaste kiss on the lips.

"And you are the most handsome man in the world," Sansa smirked. Jon wasn't the traditional handsome knight. Instead, he was dark and brooding, whilst maintaining a beauty about him, which Sansa suspected was his Valyrian heritage. When the fire reflected over his face, she could see some similarities to Daenerys. With hindsight, it was abundantly clear they were closely related.

"I have something for you to wear once you are finished," Jon told her. "It is on the bed. I bought it from Kings Landing." Sansa tried to look up, but couldn't see anything. She couldn't remember what was on the bed when she entered the chambers. Only then did she realise Jon had been trying his best to distract her.

"What if it doesn't fit?" Sansa asked.

"It will," Jon assured her. "Now come, let's get you bathed."

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By the time the bath was done, Jon was down to his black tunic and matching black breeches. He wasn't used to bathing another like the maids were and got water everywhere, much to Sansa's amusement.

To give her some privacy, Jon sat on a stool with his back to her. Once she was dry, Sansa walked over to the bed to see what he had bought her. It was a pale grey, translucent, silk chiffon robe, with a matching shift. Along the cuffs and hem, was a beautifully stitched white direwolf with red eyes, there to remind her of who had gifted it, not that she would ever forget.

"Do you like it?" Jon asked. Sansa sensed a nervousness in his voice.

"It's beautiful," she gasped, placing the sleeveless shift over her head, which fell to her ankles. She then wrapped the robe around her waist. However, the fit was strange. It tied at the front but didn't cross over. Sansa checked her appearance in the mirror and was shocked.

Despite knowing the material was sheer, she wasn't expecting to see her nakedness in such a way. It was covered, yet every curve was on show. Especially emphasised were Sansa's breasts, nipples, and even the red curls between her legs. Yet, there was a dignified sensuality to it. She wondered what had driven Jon to choose it for her.

"What inspired your choice?" Sansa asked him.

"Ros," Jon replied. "She was working in Littlefinger's brothel and asked how you were. She suggested I get you something beautiful, and personal. Arya agreed, and Ros accompanied me to the market to choose fabric. She has red hair like you, so I knew it would suit you," he replied.

"Arya knows?" Sansa was astounded. She didn't know whether to be impressed by her sister's understanding of fabrics or disgusted by the thought of Arya helping Jon buy Sansa something for the bedroom.

"Arya came with us. We had one afternoon available. She bought some material of her own, but wouldn't show me. Expect her to ask you to make her something when she returns. But please, let us not discuss Arya," Jon complained.

"Close your eyes and turn to face where you think I am," Sansa commanded.

Jon covered his eyes and shifted around on the stool, positioning himself almost facing her.

"I've missed you," his eyes looked up at her with longing, although it wasn't one of lust.

"I've missed you too, Jon Snow," Sansa whispered back.

Jon sat forward a little, Sansa wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight into her body, his head resting against her pelvis, one arm around her behind, the other still around the backs of her thighs.

Jon closed his eyes and rubbed his head against her, just above the apex of her thighs; something fluttered inside her; was it nerves or was it desire? She couldn't tell. Sansa took his chin in her fingers and lifted it, while she got down on her knees. Jon glanced at her lips, telling her what he wanted, but not daring to ask. However, Sansa understood and was eager to give it to him.

She had waited over three moons to make love to him once more, to see if it was as good as she remembered. The moment their lips touched, she knew it would be a thousand times better. Nobody was encouraging them, or forcing them to do this, it was of their own accord. Two people who had missed one another and felt lonely whilst apart, were now back together.

Their kiss began chaste, but something seemed to change like it had the times before, but this time they no longer had the constraints of having the bodies of children. They deepened the kiss as best they could, considering Sansa standing tall above him.

Sansa ran her hair through his curls, while her free hair curtained them, hiding them in their little world.

Jon's hand cupped her behind, while his fingers grazed the inner apex of her thigh from behind. She knew he was asking permission to take their kiss further.

Sansa pulled from the kiss and stared into his grey eyes, dark as onyx, which seemed to fuel her want for him. A tiny nod was all she gave him, but it was enough.

Jon unlaced the sheer robe placed his hands and mouth on her belly and kissed it. Sansa had forgotten how much warmer he was than a normal person.

"One day there will be our babe in there," Sansa told him.

Jon rested his chin on her stomach. "I can't wait to see you with child. Gods, you'd be even more beautiful than now, if that is possible."

"There's a difference between carrying a babe and fat. A woman carrying your baby is the sexiest thing in the world," Jon's face lit up.

"When the wars are won, and you are King, how many babes should we have?"

"Whether it be one or one hundred, I will leave that up to you," Jon replied. "But we're not making one tonight."

"No, we're just practising," Sansa smirked.

Sansa tugged at his tunic and pulled it up. Jon lifted his arms, allowing her to yank it over his head. That was enough time for Sansa to be able to see him. Jon had almost the same physique as when they reunited, although he didn't bear the never-healing scars of death.

Jon leaned back and pulled her hips down towards his, so she straddled him on the stool. This time they were no longer separated, and their lips met again. There was nothing chaste about this kiss. They were desperate and hungry for one another, their tongues fought and danced and explored.

Sansa ran her hands down Jon's chest, taking in the hardness of his muscles, his heat, and the feel of his soft pale skin. Jon's left hand slipped under her shift and stroked her naked thigh. His other hand was exploring her body through the outside of her shift. His hand cupped her breast, his thumb running over the area where her nipple was, which was visible through the blue silk chiffon.

Sansa's response was to rock her hips, rubbing herself up against his manhood. Jon moaned into her mouth, and then his lips left hers and made their way down her neck. He kissed her shift-clad chest, and down to her breasts, he took her chiffon-covered nipple in his mouth, staring her in the eyes at every moment.

Sansa wanted to feel his wet mouth on her, not on the silk separating them. She pulled away and removed the robe, and then the shift, stretching her body as she lifted it over her head. Jon's eyes darkened with lust at her nakedness.

He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking and flicking it with his tongue, all the while his other hand played with the other one. Sansa moaned at the sensation which came from such a simple act.

Part of the thrill was watching him. There was something about the sight of him with his mouth on her breasts that made her feel warm inside and gave her an itch which needed to be scratched between her thighs.

She rocked her hips harder against his manhood, but there were too many layers of clothing between them. Jon was still in his breeches and small clothes, and Sansa wanted him naked.

As she watched Jon give her pleasure, it inspired her to want the same for him.

"Jon," she whispered, he looked up at her as she pulled away. His eyes dropped, but he didn't complain. Sansa knew he would always let her stop at any point, but she doubted he would expect her next move. She climbed from his lap, knelt and unlaced Jon's breeches. His eyes widened in shock.

"Sansa, what are you doing?"

"What do you think?" she replied as she freed his already hardened manhood from his breeches.

She spat on her hand like she remembered and pumped his shaft. Jon's head fell back in ecstasy, however, it shot forward when she took him into her mouth and stared at her with his lips apart.

Sansa's tongue worked its way up the underside of his shaft, circling the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on her tongue. She knew there was no going back after this. However, she didn't care.

To make Jon realise she was intending to enjoy what she was doing, she slid her left hand down between her and made sure Jon knew what she was doing. She took his balls in her mouth and sucked on them while pumping his cock with her free hand.

"Seven fucking hells Sansa." Jon groaned as her mouth returned to his shaft and she took him deeper into her mouth.

Jon grabbed onto her hair and guided her as he needed her. Almost every inch of the way, she stared at him, while his grey eyes couldn't tear themselves away from hers. She relaxed her gag reflex to fit him in her mouth, but she could tell he was nearly undone. Sansa moaned herself at the pleasure from her ministrations, which seemed to tip Jon over the edge.

"Sansa, stop, I'm going to come." he pleaded, but she looked at him with smiling eyes, willing him on. "Oh fuck..." he cried, his forehead screwed up, and if it wasn't for the fact he was having an orgasm, Sansa would have thought him in pain. The sheer pleasure looked almost the same, except it had a beauty to it. She suspected it was more about the knowledge of his ecstasy than anything else.

She felt his cock pulsate and his seed sliding down her throat. Sansa pulled away, releasing him and smiling before removing her fingers from her between her legs and was about to suck on them when Jon grabbed hold of her wrist and brought her fingers to his mouth.

"Naughty girl, having all the fun to herself," he growled, sucking on her fingers, which sent heat to her already sensitive groin. "My turn," he smirked. "Stand up," he ordered and Sansa did as she was told.

He pushed her up against the vanity table, so her bottom was resting against it, while he spread her legs wider.

"Will you take yourself in hand while you do it?" Sansa asked.

Jon looked at her in shock. "I might need a few minutes," he admitted. "Why?"

"Mayhap I might like to watch you take yourself in hand," She smirked.

"Hmm. Let me concentrate on tasting you first," he said as he kissed the top of her inner left thigh.

Jon then did the same on her right thigh, only this time he placed small kisses up until his mouth met her folds. "Gods you're wet already," he murmured before stroking his fingers up her slit.

He moved his head between her legs letting his tongue follow the line his fingers had just made. With his fingers, he opened her labia and licked her entrance, causing Sansa to jump at the sensation. Jon placed his hand on her stomach and circled her entrance with his tongue, delving deeper inside with every swoop. Sansa thought she would explode with need.

Jon then upped the ante as he massaged her nub with his thumb. The pleasure was so intense that the heat which had been pooling in her stomach threatened to turn to boiling point as her core felt as if it had become red hot.

Jon changed tactics as he inserted two fingers inside her and sucked and circled her nub whilst his fingers pumped her, and then curled towards the front, hitting a sweet spot, taking her over the edge as red hot spasms took over her core, causing her to arch her legs to wobble. Her body tensed up, and she grabbed onto Jon's curls.

"Gods... yes... oh yes... oh yes... ah" she moaned as the spasms continued for a few moments longer, pulsating around his fingers before they died down, with Jon slowing down before pulling his fingers out. He sucked her juices from her fingers and stood up, pumping his cock right in front of her before kissing her again.

"Do you want the bed or here?" Jon asked.

She looked over to the bed. "I suppose it will be more comfortable," she said.

Without warning, Jon picked her up and carried her to the bed. He kicked off his boots and pulled down his breeches. Sansa lay flat on the bed watching him.

Jon crawled up her body, his arms caging her in, yet she didn't mind. This wasn't a prison, these were the arms of safety. "It is all I've thought about since we left for Kings Landing," he told her.

"Me too." Sansa smiled. "I have been dreaming about the most romantic, handsome, heroic prince making love to me. What more could a woman want?" she asked.

"Seven Kingdoms?" Jon suggested.

"I'd be happier with pigs, sheep and chickens." Sansa smiled, reminding him of something he once told her. "But I'd be even happier if you were inside me now." She frowned.

"Give me a few moments, I'm still recovering," Jon laughed.

"Seven hells." Sansa huffed, lowering her hand between their legs and taking his cock in her hand.

She gave it a few pumps, hardening his recovered cock, and lined it up at her entrance. She placed the tip inside and pressed her hips to his so that he was edging into her.

"Gods you're tight and wet." Jon moaned.

Sansa had missed the feeling of fullness. She had noticed, that after he had made her peak with her mouth, she felt the need for him to be inside her, not just for pleasure, but to feel complete.

They moved their hips in unison together, but Sansa wanted more. She was feeling adventurous and wanted to watch Jon's face throughout.

"Let me be on top," she told him. "I want to ride you."

Jon rolled them over, and she was looking down at him. They were still joined as one person. Jon grasped her hips, while she pushed her arms up and rocked herself up and down his shaft, with his help.

Sansa leaned down and caught his lips, they kissed with desperation and need. She rolled her hips so she could feel her nub brushing up against him. She pulled away and rested her forehead against his, panting as she did.

"Oh gods Sansa. That is good." Jon's eyes rolled into the back of his head as his hips moved faster, while he licked his thumb and rubbed Sansa's nub, increasing the sensitivity, and guiding her to her next peak.

She was already feeling his heat inside her. The sensation in her stomach, which seemed to be joined with her womanhood, was pulling and pushing, his thumb seemed to add to the burn, the need. It was something she couldn't explain. A pressure burning inside her, needing release. Her hips pounded his and Jon sat up, he wrapped one arm around her while the other rubbed her nub. Then he kissed her, which seemed to release her need.

"Jon..." she cried.

"Sansa..." Jon moaned as she felt her insides pulsate around him, pulling on the fullness, tempting his seed inside her.

Jon's body responded, and she saw his face crumple up in ecstasy, his mouth open, panting. Both their bodies tensed up as their peaks came together. Sansa clawed at Jon's back, while her pulsating insides squeezed his seed inside her womb.

Their sweating bodies stopped, they were both panting, trying to regain their breath. Sansa's head dropped into the crook of Jon's neck as she regained her composure. While she could perceive him becoming softer inside her, she couldn't bring herself to release him.

There was a special feeling about him being there, especially now she wasn't chasing pleasure. Instead, it was more about being one person being joined. There was beauty and poetry to it, yet no song was ever sung about this part, the true intimacy.

"I love you," Sansa whispered.

Jon tucked a damp tendril behind her ear and smiled. "I love you too," he said.