song_of_ice | Duplicity Inbox

He has no intention of leaving for some time. Now that she's nestled against him in his bed, he has no reason to get up. Once again, he was filled with a sense of peace, a realization that this was how he wanted to die, if it happened again. Let it be in bed beside the woman he...what exactly? He knew the word, but it felt elusive on his tongue. His mate, maybe? She was latched on to his heart now. There was no removing her, as if she were a barnacle on the side of the ship. She was a part of him.

He followed her urging, rolling onto his back. It meant, unfortunately, he had to pull out of her. The air felt cold against his cock, now deprived of her heat.

"I wouldn't say that. Yours are different..." how could he even say it? It sounded so trite in his head, but nevertheless true. "You're more beautiful than anyone I've seen."

What a great loss when he pulls out of her. Like she's in heat and suddenly dumped in a cold pool of with his withdrawal. Even if she rolls atop him, hands pressed to his abdomen, straddling his lap, she feels a little more empty than moments ago.

"My turn." She leans down to press a kiss to his lips, turns at the last second and kisses his chin. Then lower she does. Throat, clavicle, sternum. He's struggling to describe her breasts when she reaches his abdomen. And what he says...

She stills, looking up his chest from beneath her lashes. Her lips hover an inch above his skin.

She's more beautiful than anyone he's seen? Some have told her that in the past. Women shot her dirty looks, men lustful ones. Is that not why Drogo wished to purchase her? Because she was exotic, being the blood of Old Valyria?

"In Westeros?" Or here as well, she wonders.

"Anywhere." He replied, watching her under hooded eyes. It was strange. When he was with Ygritte, he often felt like he was on the back foot, a green boy against a more experienced woman. He didn't know how to flirt, untrained in that sort of game. But with Daenerys, even in his most shy moments, he felt comfortable and at ease. Everything was by his own desire and terms, she was...is an equal, no matter their arguments.

Hands whispered over her hair as she moved further down his body, stilling at his admission and watching him as he gave his answer. He felt soft with her, different than the hardened soldier that knew no other life than the way of the sword. With her, there was quiet and peace, a light across the horizon that reminded him another day would break.

He wanted to say the words in that moment, something that frightened him, sending a cold wave of surprise through his blood. He could only look at her, the expression in his eyes.

"You're not like anyone else."

Anywhere. Even here?

That look... she watches him for a beat longer, then returns to what she's doing, requiring the distraction now. Something roils in her chest, a thundering boom that makes her want to fidget under the look he gives her. He said he saw her, that she's seen him, and... it's a terrifying thing to consider, particularly in this place.

By now, she's reached his hips. No teasing this time. No warning prior to her leaning in and wrapping her lips around his flesh by the ridge of his hip bone. Teeth press against his flesh and she's sucking just has hard as he had. Bite for bite, suck for suck.

He's right in saying she's not like anyone else. There may be others playing at queens in this world, but none could be the Dragon Queen.

She at least didn't run, not that he had expected her to. But with the bald look he offered her, he could see how it would be disturbing to her. Yet she withstood it and met him, turning the tables as she sucked at his hip. The fierce bite has him hissing, his fingers tightening around her hair as he watched her intently.

Much like him, she was fierce, willing to show the beast inside her. Hers just happened to be a dragon next to his wolf. He bit his lower lip, feeling his cock stir optimistically, but still remained soft after the thorough fucking they had a moment ago.

"Why there?" It was a question worth asking her as well, though she had indicated a possible reason when she first gave him her mark. The idea that she was claiming him, showing the rest of the city that she had chosen him was as exciting as knowing others would see his mark.

Those sounds he makes are addictive, causing an immediate response in her. Interest. The flush of heat again. They'd just fucked, he having come twice now... and even so, she wants him again. Already.

One last bite, harder by the end of it, her suck equally harsh. He would be bruised, tender to the touch. It's much the same has his bite to her is. After she releases him, she swipes the flat of her tongue along the indentation of his hip bone.

"Because they'll see it." She sits up again, lifting her chin in defiance. "And even if you fuck them, they'll know you're not theirs."

She had been given the title of "egotistical" and this was just one more example of it, but it's enough to get his cheeks to flush and his eyes to darken with desire. Not theirs. She hadn't made a true claim to him before, but it was obvious now where her mind was. Perhaps not fully expressing her feelings, but it at least made him feel there was an intensity that she had covered.

There was no saying what would happen when they returned home, whether they would remember this or not. Regardless, this was always inevitable and it was clearer now than when they met that this was where his path was leading. He might have been resurrected to fight an impossible war, but he was also raised to care for a woman that he could never have conceived of.

"It's never like this." It was hard to explain the difference, but there was clearly a line between the others and Daenerys. "I want you."

The flush to his cheeks makes her wonder if, perhaps, she'd been too frank with him. "You don't approve of that?"

She'd implied as much the first time. He may not have bent the knee to her, may not be hers, but she could still lay a claim to him--especially if he's to do the same on her. She's never been one to be claimed.

"Like you're on fire?" She traces the outline of the mark she'd made with her nail. "And if you don't fill me with your cock, you might explode?"

"You know I do." He had made clear his desire to be claimed by her, to be more than a bed mate. He had wanted to make a claim as well, but understood that she wasn't a woman to accept such things unless it was her own decision. He certainly wouldn't raise it in words.

"There is that." He grinned, watching as she traced the mark. The sexual desire was strong and potent between them, but that wasn't what he had been thinking of when he spoke about how different this was to anything else. "It's...like being consumed with another person, where the rest of the world doesn't exist. Only the two of you. It's intense and strong..."

He gave a huff, "I'm not a bloody poet. I don't know how else to describe it."

The more he speaks, the quieter she becomes. She considers her mark on him, lightly grazing the pad of her finger along it before smoothing her palm up his abdomen. She's naked on his lap, and he's naked beneath her, and it seems fitting that such a thing would be said right in this moment.

It surprises her, certainly. The thing he describes. And it's frightening, to think he feels this way of her... and she of him. Because, if she's to be honest with herself, that is what happens between them. Nothing else exists in these moments.

Her lips twist in amusement when he huffs.

"I thought you described it well."

His thumb brushes across her cheek as he gazes down at her, that warm expression still clear on his face. She didn't skitter away like a frightened stag. She didn't have that restless energy she normally did when they discussed these things. It seemed that slowly, they were both becoming comfortable with the growing reality between them.

"No one else gives me this." It's said as a murmur. Every caress, every touch was a marvel to him, amazed at the beauty of her and the reality that she was actually in his bed. He had dreamed often during these two weeks that she would appear at his side or sneak in his bed at night. Now, she was finally here.

"I don't want it to go away."

Sweet, simple affection. That's what this is. There's still so many problems and barriers between them, all related to home... but for the time, she can ignore them. It's not a king beneath her, but Jon. And Jon...

She leans into his touch, reaching for his free hand and lifting it up toward her chest. She'll press his palm flat, then guide it lower, until he cups one of her breasts. It won't take long for her nipple to pebble if he toys with it.

"I don't enjoy people touching me." Marveling over her as if she weren't another person. He doesn't. Everything he says is sincere, she's come to learn, and though he's not a poet, she prefers it that way. Pretty words can be misleading; whatever he says tends to be his truth. "But I prefer your hands on me. Your mouth as well. I don't feel like a broodmare with you, something to be marveled at."

There's no way to guarantee this won't disappear, but she doesn't say that and instead bends forward to kiss him.

His hand follows her urging, first feeling warm skin beneath his fingers before the fullness of her breast meets his palm. He sighs as he presses more against her, teasing and twisting her nipple until the rosy bud was rigid under him. Pale white contrasted against the dark blue and purple of his bruise. His eyes darkened with desire, drawn in by her offer of affection and touch.

It was an understandable concern, given what he was told about her first marriage and how she would be viewed by men because of her sex. Even a queen wasn't safe from being bartered over. Perhaps because he was a bastard first, he never imagined he could be with a woman like her. Or maybe he had always been the rare exception, seeing a woman as an equal? The women in his life prepared him for someone like Daenerys, Arya and Ygritte showing him that strength existed in both genders.

Her kiss heated and full of emotion, surging him forward until he raised himself to be pressed chest to chest with her, his hand sandwiched between them, still toying with her nipple. "Inevitable." He murmurs the words against her lips, reiterating what they had come to acknowledged. This was always meant to happen.

Maybe it is inevitable. Maybe this place merely showed them what might happen in their world, still. Or perhaps it's this place which reveals an impossibility elsewise. She doesn't know and doesn't think on it too much right then and there--a time would come to reflect on these things when her tit wasn't in his hand, and when his lips weren't slipping against hers, tongues brushing.

She does hum in answer, though, into their kiss. She presses a hand against his shoulder to push him back into the bed, and she'll follow, keeping their chests pressed close as she stretches out beside him, a thigh still hooked over one of his.

The kiss only breaks when she's settled, and so she can press her cheek to his shoulder with a quiet sigh.

His arms wrap around her protectively, holding her close as she settled back against him. They were tangled together, as pressed together until he could feel their hearts beating in time. His breath was heavy, riddled with lust and the overwhelming feeling of having her at his side. She was such a potent presence that it felt as though he were being dragged beneath the water's surface.

She filled his life and the air with a perfume and soft light he had never imagined before. She was pure snow, but far from cold to touch. He nuzzles against her, struggling with the word that this was. Deep down, he knew it, which made it all the more strange as they were still learning each other. Maybe it was because he truly saw her, as she saw him. This connection didn't need time.

"I wish we could stay here forever."

He sounds like an innocent boy when he says that. Despite herself, she smiles, tucking closer. Whether it's a single night, or something which occurs more often, it would be better to focus on these single moments versus an impossibility. Whether in this place, or at home, they wouldn't be able to stay like this forever. Duty called.

She presses a kiss to his throat, pushing up to her elbow so she can reach for the blanket kicked down by the foot of the bed.

"I wish I knew you sooner."

As soon as the blanket is wrapped around them, he brushes his hand against her hair, sweeping the loose locks from her face. His eyes search her face, seeking the answer to this overwhelming feeling, as though it would be written on her features or painted on her skin. The swell of his heart, the rapid beating that she seemed to induce. It was like a runaway horse and he was stuck in the stirrups, forced to do nothing but follow the ride wherever it lead.

He let out another deep sigh, burying his face against her hair, bringing her closer still. "I wonder if you would have liked the man I was before..." before his death. He wasn't someone who wondered about "what ifs" or "if onlys". He had done it when his father died and then Robb, after, he learned that it was better to focus on the present and the future, what could be helped.

But still, it was an interesting prospect. They came together after a long journey, but how would it have been if they had started it together?

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