More and more stimulation... it's easily returned in kind as she rolls her hips in time with his, grinding their pelvises together in a deliciously maddening way. Her time on the boat was still so recent in memory, but this... this is nothing like that. Is that because Jon missed her so? Or because they've both grown so desperate for one another?
It must be desperation, the way she responds to him. Arching her back against his touch. Tilting her head so he can focus on her neck. Neither slows her down--she's focused on the feel of him against her cunt. Even drags her fingers against his scars, gentle touches which smear sweat and paint.
He takes a sharp breath at her exclamation, losing his rhythm as he frantically rocks up again. He had never thought of himself as a lustful person. There had only been one other woman in his life, all other attempts had been brushed off and ignored. He hadn't needed sex in his life.
But now, just the feel of her was enough for him to feel desperate to be inside her again. Her kisses were an oasis for a parched man, his heart having been left dry and barren for years. Now, emotion surged through him, far too deep and powerful to be controlled. He didn't see any reason to fight her or it, he needed this and he needed her.
"Dany," he whispered her name roughly, angling himself so he could begin pressing past her folds.
The head of his cock presses against her slit, slickened by the water and her arousal. It's a maddening pace, slowly pressing past her folds, the head of him entering her, pressing her open. She stiffens briefly in his arms, breath hitching, and then her arms are looping around his shoulders, hugging him close as she aids his efforts.
Leaning less on her knees, slowly lowering herself. Slow, and it feels as if she can identify every part of his cock, from the head to the veins throbbing in time with his pulse. Her fingers are twisted in his hair, unknowing that she smears edible paint in his dark locks. Uncaring that she does as she sinks lower onto him.
She might've dragged it out, felt every single inch of him as he entered her, but impatience wins out. So after a few moments of teasing them both, she settles back on his lap in one sharp movement--pressing him from tip to end inside her. Filling her in seconds. Ripping a moan from her throat as her inner muscles spasm around him.
A mix between a groan and growl tears from him, filling the room and drifting into the hall. He didn't wait until she was firmly settled on his lap before rocking his hips up, thrusting fiercely into her. Paint, water and sweat mixed together, causing the colors to run and smear over his skin.
His arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her against him. His head was pressed to hers, brow to brow as his eyes held hers. Being in her, filled and surrounded by her, it felt peaceful and maddening, both pulling at his mind. While his thrusts were primal and hurried, his kisses were tender and soft, trying to soothe and caress her skin where he marked it before.
His hand danced over her spine, following the length of her back. His breath hitched in his throat, tight in his chest. He wanted to ask her to never leave him again, to not let any argument come between them, but he didn't know how to say it or even how to speak. She had stolen all thought and feeling, save for this.
Water sloshes around them as they begin again. He thrusts, she rolls her hips to meet his motions, and the liquid heat between them builds once more. There is nothing here. Nothing but he and she. Nothing but their breaths, their touches, and the sound of water.
She's trapped like this, staring into his eyes. Despite her own being so heavy-lidded, she cannot look away from him--not even whilst they kiss. It's a sparse spattering of kisses, the smearing of lips and breath, sweetness on her tongue from the paints they'd played with. The paints on his chest smear against hers, covering her in pastel colors, bleeding into the red he'd painted onto her. A red seeping down her neck and chest like blood, no thanks to the heat of the room and her sweat.
Speech is one of those higher functions lost to her. She instead of verbalizing anything, she touches him while riding him. Fingers and palms smooth along his shoulders, the back of his neck, his cheeks. Her touches are fervent, trembling.
It's a different sort of lust and passion that drives him from what he has known in the past. There is no guilt connected to this, no understanding that he is breaking a vow or betraying his honor. He can give himself over completely to the feeling and the desire to be part of Dany, to fill her and chase every wave of pleasure. He was starved for it.
There was less ferocity than before, a surge of relief and contentment taking its place. Despite their fight before and the frustrations around him at the treatment she's received, he can't help but marvel at having her back. They weren't on the ship anymore, but they were still together, two halves reuniting again across the universe and against time. She wasn't a distant memory, she was here.
To prove that, his hips surged forward again and again, filling her to the hilt. She rides him expertly, understanding his body instinctively. His touches are just as frantic and reverent, running over her and worshiping each patch of skin properly. He caresses her, only to have his fingers replaced by his lips. This wasn't about memorization. He wouldn't need it. He would do everything in his power to make sure she never left his side again.
This isn't about memorization, it's about mastery. She would master every part of him until, effortlessly, she could make him see stars with a chorus of knowing touches. One step toward that was knowing he was sensitive when it concerned his scars. The other details would fit into place as time passed.
An arm hooks around his neck to keep them close. Her free hand grips his knee behind her. The positioning allows her to shift, rise up on the balls of her feet, and grind herself down atop his cock with the snack of her hips. This new positioning, balancing on her heels, puts more of a strain on her muscles the more she rocks with him, but it presses him deeper into her. Has her head falling back when jolts of excruciating pleasure wreak havoc on her body.
There was much about his body that was still a mystery to him, learning alongside her. For all he shared with Ygritte, there hadn't been enough time for them to truly revel and learn what it was to be lovers without a shadow hanging over them and walls pushing them apart. While he wasn't shy or afraid of giving himself this way anymore, there was still a threshold to cross, something that made this profound and deep. Everything missing in him, he was about to learn from her.
She's more skilled than him, fully aware of what she wants and how he should move to bring her the most pleasure. He is quick to learn and follow her guidance. She leads the way in this, pressing down on him and grinding her hips until it seems like she is building with pressure. He huffs for breath, thrusting up into her roughly, trying to match her and add more to the pyre.
It's growing in him, that feeling of culmination. He can see it on the horizon and taste it on his tongue. He bit at her lip, urging her along and begging for more.
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no subject
It must be desperation, the way she responds to him. Arching her back against his touch. Tilting her head so he can focus on her neck. Neither slows her down--she's focused on the feel of him against her cunt. Even drags her fingers against his scars, gentle touches which smear sweat and paint.
"Gods, Jon."
no subject
But now, just the feel of her was enough for him to feel desperate to be inside her again. Her kisses were an oasis for a parched man, his heart having been left dry and barren for years. Now, emotion surged through him, far too deep and powerful to be controlled. He didn't see any reason to fight her or it, he needed this and he needed her.
"Dany," he whispered her name roughly, angling himself so he could begin pressing past her folds.
no subject
Leaning less on her knees, slowly lowering herself. Slow, and it feels as if she can identify every part of his cock, from the head to the veins throbbing in time with his pulse. Her fingers are twisted in his hair, unknowing that she smears edible paint in his dark locks. Uncaring that she does as she sinks lower onto him.
She might've dragged it out, felt every single inch of him as he entered her, but impatience wins out. So after a few moments of teasing them both, she settles back on his lap in one sharp movement--pressing him from tip to end inside her. Filling her in seconds. Ripping a moan from her throat as her inner muscles spasm around him.
no subject
His arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her against him. His head was pressed to hers, brow to brow as his eyes held hers. Being in her, filled and surrounded by her, it felt peaceful and maddening, both pulling at his mind. While his thrusts were primal and hurried, his kisses were tender and soft, trying to soothe and caress her skin where he marked it before.
His hand danced over her spine, following the length of her back. His breath hitched in his throat, tight in his chest. He wanted to ask her to never leave him again, to not let any argument come between them, but he didn't know how to say it or even how to speak. She had stolen all thought and feeling, save for this.
no subject
She's trapped like this, staring into his eyes. Despite her own being so heavy-lidded, she cannot look away from him--not even whilst they kiss. It's a sparse spattering of kisses, the smearing of lips and breath, sweetness on her tongue from the paints they'd played with. The paints on his chest smear against hers, covering her in pastel colors, bleeding into the red he'd painted onto her. A red seeping down her neck and chest like blood, no thanks to the heat of the room and her sweat.
Speech is one of those higher functions lost to her. She instead of verbalizing anything, she touches him while riding him. Fingers and palms smooth along his shoulders, the back of his neck, his cheeks. Her touches are fervent, trembling.
no subject
There was less ferocity than before, a surge of relief and contentment taking its place. Despite their fight before and the frustrations around him at the treatment she's received, he can't help but marvel at having her back. They weren't on the ship anymore, but they were still together, two halves reuniting again across the universe and against time. She wasn't a distant memory, she was here.
To prove that, his hips surged forward again and again, filling her to the hilt. She rides him expertly, understanding his body instinctively. His touches are just as frantic and reverent, running over her and worshiping each patch of skin properly. He caresses her, only to have his fingers replaced by his lips. This wasn't about memorization. He wouldn't need it. He would do everything in his power to make sure she never left his side again.
no subject
An arm hooks around his neck to keep them close. Her free hand grips his knee behind her. The positioning allows her to shift, rise up on the balls of her feet, and grind herself down atop his cock with the snack of her hips. This new positioning, balancing on her heels, puts more of a strain on her muscles the more she rocks with him, but it presses him deeper into her. Has her head falling back when jolts of excruciating pleasure wreak havoc on her body.
no subject
She's more skilled than him, fully aware of what she wants and how he should move to bring her the most pleasure. He is quick to learn and follow her guidance. She leads the way in this, pressing down on him and grinding her hips until it seems like she is building with pressure. He huffs for breath, thrusting up into her roughly, trying to match her and add more to the pyre.
It's growing in him, that feeling of culmination. He can see it on the horizon and taste it on his tongue. He bit at her lip, urging her along and begging for more.