Chapter Text
Arya grunted as her back hit the wall, Jon's hand around her throat. She barely had a moment to think before his lips were on hers, his tongue licking across her lips and into her mouth. Jon was all she knew, crowded around her, filling her senses completely, and she felt her knees go weak with all of it.
"Jon," Arya moaned, arching her head back as he kissed and bit his way down her neck.
"Mine, all mine," he growled. The sound of it in the darkened alcove sent a shiver down her spine. "Open your mouth."
Jon's eyes were black with lust as he towered over her, his face inches from her own. Arya parted her lips and watched the spit drip from his mouth into hers. She waited, knowing this was his game, to do things that would make a normal person turn away, but which only made her cunt clench in need.
"Good. I want you to keep the taste of me in your mouth on your trip," he whispered roughly. "Swallow."
She did, her heart thumping in her chest. "And what about you? How will you keep the taste of me?"
His answering grin was nothing short of feral. Arya barely had time to react before he had dropped to his knees and crawled under her skirts. Her hands scrabbled desperately against the stone wall for purchase as his breath ghosted over wet core. The quick, firm press and swipe of his tongue against her wrenched a noise from her throat that would have made the whores of Braavos proud.
Arya bit down on her fist as he fucked two fingers into her, twisting and curling to drag them against the spot which sent frissons of pleasure racing to every inch of her. He was going to be the death of her, his mouth and fingers drowning her in pleasure until her mind broke, but she needed to stay aware. Their noble guests might not wander this far from the great hall, but the servants certainly could.
She could faintly hear the lewd sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of her, Jon moaning as he worked. It wouldn't take much for her to fall over the edge into bliss, not with the rush of Jon on his knees for her, liable to get caught at any moment. Vaguely it seemed almost like when they played as children, running around and giggling when they were supposed to be somewhere else.
Her climax came upon her in a rush. Arya keened as her cunt clamped down around his fingers, fire licking out through her body from her core. She leaned against the wall heavily as Jon gently carried her through the high, as he always did.
Jon finally emerged, his face flushed and sweaty, but a smug grin tilting at his lips. He slowly cleaned the fingers he had used on her, groaning as he did so, her essence dampening his chin. Arya inhaled sharply at the sight of it and caught his face between her hands.
"Open your mouth," she said. Arya let her spit fall into his mouth, then pushed his jaw closed. "Swallow."
His throat bobbed as he did so and she had only a moment to revel in the heady afterglow before he was kissing her again, their taste mingling together.
"Now neither of us will forget the other," he whispered against her lips. It was plea, a prayer, a promise.