Warning for smut

The water's subtle movement hinted at Jon's presence behind Sansa. "You can turn around now," she said in a tone that carried both warmth and familiarity.

Illuminated by the dancing flames, Jon appeared almost otherworldly, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. In many ways, he was more than just a man; he was entwined in a prophecy echoing through millennia and the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, amidst the water's embrace, Sansa perceived him simply as the man he was.

Jon embodied the virtues of bravery, strength, and gentleness her father had once promised. His handsomeness surpassed her previous standards. Despite the bitterness she harboured for how her mother treated Jon, a latent satisfaction lingered within Sansa. If not for the distant relationship they shared in their youth, they wouldn't be standing in the pool, their naked forms concealed beneath the water's surface, shoulders submerged in the intimate embrace of the moment.

Sansa detected a subtle undercurrent of nerves emanating from Jon, a surprising revelation given the circumstances. Traditionally, she would be the one grappling with nervousness, yet a firm decision had settled within her; she was ready for intimacy with Jon, willing to explore the depths of connection if the moment called for it.

Approaching Jon with deliberate slowness, like a direwolf stalking its prey, Sansa observed him standing still, resembling a green boy caught in a moment of uncertainty. In a way, she acknowledged, he still bore the essence of youth in this particular body. Without hesitation, just as she reached him, Sansa leaped, placing her hands on Jon's dry head, submerging him in the water. She let go, retreating with laughter dancing on her lips.

Jon emerged from the water, his dark curls now adhering to his head like wet ink on parchment. Shaking himself off, reminiscent of Lady coming in from the storm, droplets scattered in all directions.

"You've just declared war, my lady." Jon declared with a laugh, retaliating by cupping his hands into the water and flinging it playfully over her.

"I believe I'm already winning, Your Grace." Sansa playfully asserted as she scooped up water and flung it toward Jon. Squeals of laughter filled the air as he retaliated, ensuring the exchange was both playful and spirited. Sansa, anticipating the playful onslaught, turned her back to shield herself from a direct hit to the face.

"Ouch, my hand!" Jon exclaimed, a momentary distraction that drew Sansa's concern. She pivoted to face him, swift in her approach. "Have you split your stitches?"

"No." Jon laughed, diverting her attention by tossing water into her face.

"That is most unfair." Sansa chided, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I can play dirty too."

"I'm sure you can." Jon said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sansa lunged at Jon, who instinctively moved back, but she skilfully caught him, wrapping her arm around the back of his neck and pulling him towards her. Jon attempted to break free, yet she secured her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. In that intimate closeness, Sansa felt an unexpected sensation as Jon's firm presence brushed against her most private place, eliciting a breath of surprise.

Any intentions Sansa might have had for more splashing were swiftly abandoned. Her gaze fixated on Jon's plump lips, an overwhelming desire to taste them taking hold. Jon, attuned to her unspoken wishes, encircled her waist with his arms, drawing her even closer. Sansa's eyes briefly met his, dark and hooded, a tacit signal that emboldened her to proceed. In this delicate dance, Jon respected her boundaries, understanding that every step had to be of her own accord.

Their lips met in a chaste union, a stark departure from the innocent play of their childhood in the godswood pool. This was a different play, one reserved for adults, a realm where erotic satisfaction surpassed the simple joys of splashing around. The air thickened, an understanding that this moment marked a profound shift, transcending the boundaries of childhood innocence, to that of man and wife.

The chaste kiss transformed into an exploration, as their tongues intertwined in a dance of newfound intimacy. Sansa's hips moved in tandem with Jon's, instinct guiding her body's search for his manhood.

Jon's hand firmly cupped her behind, as if unable to draw her close enough. The entwining of their bodies left them yearning for more than the mere sensation of being tightly wound together. Sansa, breathless and flushed, was the first to break the kiss, though it was clear Jon's appetite for closeness had not been sated. His lips traced a path down her jawline and neck, her head instinctively tilting back to grant him access.

"Gods, Jon. That feels good." Sansa panted, revelling in the desire coursing through her.

"Can I touch you?" Jon's desire was unabated.

"Yes."

"Where?" Jon asked, his gaze filled with a mixture of passion and respect.

"Anywhere and everywhere." Sansa replied, her voice a tender invitation. "Can I touch you back?"

"You already are, but yes, you can."

Sansa's hand traced down his back. Clinging to his neck with the other, her fingers wove through his hair. As Jon continued to lavish attention on her throat, Sansa gyrated her hips, seeking the friction that would bring her womanhood against his firm length. In response, Jon emitted a primal growl, the air pulsating with the electric charge of desire.

"Fuck, Sansa. I'll be spent before we start if you carry on like that."

Normally, Sansa would chide Jon for using such crude language in her presence, yet for some reason it had the opposite effect on her. Desire flooded her insides at the profanity. It gave her a confidence to do something she'd never considered in her life, for it was far too vulgar for a lady. Yet here, out in the wilderness, she was no lady.

"Jon, I want you to…" she stopped, the words were stuck in her throat.

Jon halted their intimate exchange and gently pressed his forehead against Sansa's. "Lay on the blankets?" he suggested. Sansa, unable to trust her voice, nodded in agreement.

Guiding them to the pool's edge where Sansa had arranged the blankets, Jon, with apparent ease, unwrapped her legs from around his waist and hoisted her up and onto the blankets. A newfound awareness dawned on Sansa regarding Jon's strength, something she hadn't fully grasped until that moment. The revelation stirred a flutter in her stomach, a recognition of his physical prowess.

Seated at the pool's edge, Sansa found herself entirely exposed, while Jon remained covered. Normally, this vulnerability would unsettle her, but Jon's unwavering gaze fixed only on her face dispelled any sense of insecurity. His deliberate choice not to let his eyes wander without her consent was a testament to the respect he held for her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jon inquired, a glint of sincerity in his eyes.

"More than anything in the world."

"Do you trust me?" Jon's eyes held a subtle sparkle.

"Yes." She whispered.

"I want to make you feel good. My suggestions might sound a little strange, but believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"I trust you to know how to make me feel good," Sansa affirmed with a nod, convinced that Jon's expertise would surpass any expectations she held.

"Lean back, or lie on your back, whichever is more comfortable," Jon commanded.

Sansa, desiring to stay aware of every move, leaned back on her elbows as Jon gently parted her legs. Throughout, his gaze remained hooded, locked onto hers. Closing his eyes, Jon planted kisses on the inside of her left thigh before repeating the gesture on the other side.

"You can look," Sansa assured him.

Jon's eyes snapped open. "Good, I like to see what I'm doing," he smirked, continuing to trail kisses up her thighs. Sansa felt a mounting anticipation, a shiver running down her spine as Jon's lips approached ever closer to her womanhood.

"Can I kiss you there?" he asked, his voice filled with a blend of desire and consideration. "It will make you feel good, as long as you relax."

Sansa frowned, uncertain. "Won't that be horrible for you?" she asked, struggling to comprehend what Jon found appealing about it.

"There's nothing that would turn me on more than seeing you peak." Jon assured her with a warm smile.

"Peak?" Sansa admitted, feeling a bit in the dark. "How would I know you are enjoying it? You are submerged in the water." She added, a desire to witness the impact of her effect on him clear in her words.

Jon lifted himself out of the water, rivulets cascading down his body, accentuating the defined muscles on his torso. Sansa's gaze involuntarily gravitated towards his erect member, standing proud and ready. It wasn't the first time she had seen a man naked, even in a sexual context, but this time was different—a warmth spread between her legs, an undeniable response to the raw desire she felt.

Kneeling between Sansa's legs, Jon didn't immediately focus on her core. Instead, he crawled up her body, capturing her lips in a chaste kiss. He continued to trail kisses down her throat and chest until reaching her breast.

Jon swirled his tongue around her nipple, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Sansa. His gentle caresses and the suction of his mouth sent waves of warmth radiating through her. The sensations intensified as he repeated the actions on her other breast. Sansa found solace in stroking his hair, raven curls springing back to their natural state in the heat, just the way she liked them.

Regrettably, his lips departed from her breasts, embarking on a journey downward, exploring her abdomen and stomach before reaching the thatch of curls between her legs.

Jon's skilful touch sent shivers of desire through Sansa's body, a moan emanated from her lips as his finger traced along her womanhood. "Gods, you're wet already," he murmured, his words resonating with a mixture of awe and desire. Jon continued his exploration, moving his head between her legs, allowing his tongue to follow the path his fingers had just traced.

Opening her folds, Jon's tongue delicately licked her entrance, provoking a startled jump from Sansa at the overwhelming sensation. His hand rested gently on her stomach, guiding the rhythm as he circled her entrance with his tongue, each sweep delving deeper than the last.

Sansa, overcome by sensations she had never experienced before, felt exquisite jolts shooting down her back, mirroring the lightning outside. The warmth between her legs intensified with each tender touch. Jon, taking things further, massaging her rosebud with his thumb, introducing a tingling sensation that blended seamlessly with the warmth, stretching from her spine to the very core of her being.

Slowly, Jon inserted one finger, his movements carefully calculated. The sensation left Sansa yearning for more, and she pushed herself against his finger, craving an intensified connection. Responding to her desire, Jon added another finger, widening them into a v-shape, stretching her inside while his mouth latched onto her rosebud, and worked his magic on her.

As Jon moved his fingers in and out of her, with incredible skill, his mouth working wonders on her rosebud, Sansa abandoned any sense of propriety. When he pushed her legs up to her chest, widening them, she cared not for convention. Instead, she clutched onto his hair, urging his mouth closer to her womanhood, for something powerful was building inside her.

The initial warmth and tingling had transformed into a potent force, a spring winding itself up within her, tightening with an unknown purpose. Jon ceased the pumping motion of his fingers, opting to stroke her insides while his tongue continued its artistry on her folds and rosebud.

Then, like a snapped coil, spasms seized control of her core. A tingling sensation at the base of her spine compelled her to arch, the rapid beat of her heart synchronising with a force she could feel intimately tied to her womanhood. Her legs instinctively tried to close around Jon's head as the most intense wave of fulfilment flooded her senses. Sansa tensed and seized hold of Jon's damp curls, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy of the moment.

"Gods, Jon... yes... oh yes... oh yes... ah."

As the waves of her peak subsided, Sansa's body relaxed, limbs turning floppy in the aftermath of the intense peak. Breathless from the experience, she shifted her gaze towards Jon, who looked up at her with eyes sparkling in awe, as if he had witnessed a miraculous event.

Jon, after sucking on the fingers that had brought Sansa to such heights, pressed them to her lips. Without hesitation, she took his fingers into her mouth, tasting herself, which was surprisingly not unpleasant. Her actions seemed to have a profound effect on Jon.

"Seven hells, Sansa. You are beautiful." He exclaimed, his admiration clear in his voice.

Rising to his knees, Jon's manhood remained as hard as ever, capturing Sansa's attention. An urge to touch him overwhelmed her, but a concern for causing any discomfort held her back.

"Show me how to touch you," she requested, a burgeoning need to reciprocate stirring within her.

"Just a little, I need to be inside you," Jon responded. Sansa nodded, her yearning to be filled growing with each passing moment. The tingling sensation between her legs returned, intensifying the desire for a connection that went beyond mere exploration.

Jon took Sansa's hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his member. With his hand atop hers, he ensured she held it with just the right amount of grip. The skin felt soft, almost velvety, betraying the hardness that lay beneath her fingers. Jon led her hand, demonstrating a few up-and-down motions, before granting her control.

Sansa stole a glance at Jon's face, finding his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. It was one of the most erotic sights she had ever witnessed. In that moment, she comprehended why Jon enjoyed putting his mouth on her womanhood. Sansa's focus returned to Jon's length, where she noticed a bit of fluid at the end – his seed. Curiosity seized her, and she licked it, curious about its taste. To her surprise, it wasn't much different from hers own taste, slightly salty and bitter. The taste ceased to captivate her, and now, Sansa wondered if Jon would have a similar reaction if she took him into her mouth.

"Fuck!" Jon swore before Sansa could put his member in her mouth. Sansa glanced up, momentarily worried she had done something wrong. Instead, Jon stared down at her with incredulity. Emboldened by her own courage, Sansa placed her lips around his member, taking him into her mouth while maintaining eye contact with him. Jon's hands found her hair, gently stroking as she pulled back and took him further in.

Jon, taking a deep breath, spoke with a mix of desire and restraint. "Sansa, as wonderful as that feels, if you wish for us to make love now, you need to stop."

Sansa halted, looking up at Jon. "Was it nice having my mouth there?"

"It was incredible. Almost too good." He admitted with a smile as Sansa pushed herself back up.

Jon, seizing her by the waist, pulled her in for a fervent kiss. The desire for him to be inside her reawakened. He laid her down on her back and crawled above her, gently massaging her rosebud with his thumb, reigniting the tingling sensation between her legs.

"I want you inside me." Sansa whispered. "Please, Jon," she begged.

Jon positioned his member at her entrance, then slowly guided himself inside her. Sansa braced herself for the pain as her maidenhead was breached, but to her surprise, there was nothing but a wonderful sensation of fullness.

"Are you alright?" Jon whispered. "Any pain?"

"No, nothing. It doesn't hurt. You can move." Sansa assured him.

Jon, with a slow retreat and a subsequent more assertive movement, set a rhythm with his hips, eliciting a preference from Sansa. Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him, their lips and bodies moving in sync with each other—slow at first, then increasing the pace.

In the cave, the only audible sounds were their moans of gratification, and the slapping of skin, for the intense heat and exertion was making them both sweat. It would have proven the most passionate moment of Sansa's life, however, she was distracted by a stone stuck in her back, hindering her from reaching her peak. She knew she needed to move.

"There's something stuck in my back," she complained.

Jon stopped. "Do you want to go on top? I don't mind."

"Go on top?" Sansa was confused.

"Aye, I lie on my back, and you straddle my hips. I've been told it's better for you that way. I wasn't sure if it would be alright the first time, just in case it hurt. But you seem to be alright."

Sansa nodded as Jon withdrew his member, leaving her with a sudden emptiness, as if she'd lost a part of her own body. It was a strange sensation, unlike anything she had ever experienced. They swapped places, and Jon lay on his back. Pumping on his member, he watched as she climbed over him, like mounting a horse. The sight of Jon with his hand wrapped around his length in that manner was highly erotic, and he sensed how much she enjoyed the view.

"Does this please you, my lady?" he asked.

"Only if it pleases you, your grace." Sansa smirked as she lowered herself onto him. The feeling of fullness was a welcome return.

Once settled, Sansa took control of the pace, gyrating her hips to find a rhythm that allowed her rosebud to rub against Jon, creating a friction reminiscent of his earlier actions with his thumb.

"Seven hells, Jon. This is good." She moaned.

"Aye." Jon agreed as Sansa lowered her head to his, her drying hair creating a curtain that hid them from the world.

The coil-like sensation built up in Sansa's body. The tingling of her rosebud, the sensations on her back, and the warmth within signalled her impending peak. Jon, running his fingers gently down her back, heightened the sensations. Throughout, they stared into each other's eyes, Sansa wanting reassurance that everything she was experiencing was real and shared with him.

Jon tucked her hair behind her ears. "I love you." He declared, and Sansa knew he meant every word.

"I love you too, Jon," Sansa admitted, feeling a tremendous weight lift from her chest. Saying those words had worried her, but they proved easier than expected. Leaning down, she kissed him, and Jon's hands cupped her behind, pulling her in tighter. She sensed they were both getting closer, but she needed more pressure on her rosebud. Jon, attuned to her desires, pulled away from the kiss and spat on his thumb.

"Sit up and keep moving." He commanded.

Sansa followed his instructions, hands on his chest for balance. His length touched her in delightful places, but her rosebud yearned for attention. However, Jon had already grasped her needs. He rubbed his thumb up and down her rosebud, recreating a sensation similar to when his mouth had been on her.

Her hips pounded his, and Jon sat up, wrapping one arm around her while the other teased her nub. Then he kissed her, a gesture that seemed to release her pent-up need.

"Come for me, Sansa." Jon begged.

The coil inside her snapped, a tingling sensation running from her back, into her bottom, and inside her womanhood. "Jon... yes." Sansa cried, uttering incoherent words as she felt her insides pulsate around him, pulling on the fullness, tempting his seed inside her.

"Sansa..." Jon's body responded, his face crumpling up as he peaked, mouth open and panting. It was the most glorious sight she had ever seen.

The warmth of his seed filled her as both their bodies tensed up, reaching their peaks together. Sansa clawed at Jon's back, her pulsating insides squeezing his seed deeper inside her.

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. She could feel him softening inside her, yet she didn't want to let go. There was a special feeling about him being there, especially now she wasn't chasing her peak. Instead, it was more about being one person being joined as one. There was a beauty and poetry to it, yet no song was ever sung about this part, the true intimacy of making love.

They eventually broke apart, and a sense of emptiness overcame her once more. His seed ran down her thigh, but Sansa didn't care. Jon pulled her to his body, and they lay down on the blankets while they regained their breaths.

"Jon."

"Yes, Sansa."

"I was told my first time would hurt," she said. "But it didn't."

"I think your maidenhead broke when I used my fingers," Jon admitted. "You were a little distracted to notice. I suspect you might be sore soon, though. Did you like it?" Sansa could tell from the tone of his voice he was a little nervous.

"Now I know why mothers lie to their daughters about it being about duty," she said.

"Why?"

"Because we'd never want to stop," she smiled, but then her mind flashed back to Ramsay, and her face dropped. "Although, I suspect it depends if the man is as good as you."

Jon must have realised what was wrong. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckle. "We should get back in the pool." She knew he was trying to distract her.

Sansa frowned. "Why, my hair is only just drying."

"We need to clean ourselves up, and I know you said you aren't sore, but the warmth of the pool might make sure it doesn't hurt for later," he said.

"Later?" Sansa asked.

"We could be here a couple of days. We'll need to find something to do to pass the time." Jon said in the most innocent manner he could muster.

"The pool it is." Sansa smiled as they got up and climbed into the warm water.

Jon leaned against the wall of the pool, and Sansa was wrapped in his arms, her back against his chest.

"I meant it, you know." Jon whispered in her ear.

"Meant what?"

"I meant it when I told you I love you."

Sansa turned her head around and stared at him. "So did I." She said and met his lips with hers.