- I hate you. I hate you so much. -
Her voice and her moans fill the room, her nails scratch his back so hard Theon is almost sure he's bleeding, but her body feels so good under his and the faces she makes when he cups her breasts or kisses her nipples make him unable to care.
She bites her lips and her eyes are so big and so deep and so filled with pleasure and anger and desire and her body is warm and sweaty and the sea is raging outside the window and when he puts an hand between her legs and starts touching her she kisses him to silence her own moan and her lips feel amazing under his: he wishes he could keep kissing her forever.
- You're annoying, the worst lady I've ever met, you talk too much, you think you can fight better than me and you have no respect for your lord husband. I really hate you too. -
Joan smiles and bites his neck.
- I can fight better than you. You are a mean bastard, you were my torment for years when we were children, you made me cry and you never cared. I hated you so much, you have no idea how much I hated you. -
He stop moving, stops doing anything and they look at each other for a few seconds: then Joan's hands cup his face, caress his cheeks and bring him down for a kiss, a sweet, slow, real kiss and Theon can almost believe she really wants him, that maybe she feels something for him, deep in her heart, that maybe this is not just one big mistake, that they are not just puppet sacrificed on the altar of politic.
Joan spreads her legs more and takes a deep breath against his lips, caresses his hair and moans when he starts moving his hand again.
- Just... just do it. -
- Are you sure?-
She nods and grabs his shoulder, closes her eyes and waits: she's so beautiful, her black hair scattered on the pillow, her face slightly flushed and her breath rushed; in the cadlelight she looks like one of the mermaids his mother used to read him about, beatifull and deadly at the same time.
She bites her lip hard when he enters her, digs her nail into his skin and still can't help but moaning in pain, two tears escaping her still closed eyes: he kisses them away and caresses her face, presses light kisses on her lips and her neck, trying to distract her from the pain.
When Theon starts moving, Joan opens her eyes and kisses him, her tongue caressing his, bringing him closer to her, her breasts pressing against his chest: he's gentle at first, he doesn't want to hurt her, but after a while she starts moving her hips and scratching his back to make him move faster.
He laughs because that's so much like her, always trying to be the one in control, no matter what.
- You are really something, Joan Snow. -
Her laugh is interrupted by his faster trusts, by his hands that cup her breasts again and she feels so good: she's hot and wet and tight around him and he never felt like this with the other women he fucked before, never felt so good and so right, like he was meant to be inside her like this since the day he was born.
- I'm not Joan Snow anymore. -
She caresses his war scars, always searches his lips and every time they kiss his head feels lighter and lighter and the more he moves inside her, the more he feels closer and closer to the orgasm.
- Joan Stark, I'm sorry. -
She shakes her head and her moans grow louder and louder as he pushes inside her and her whole body is shaking in his arms.
- I am Joan Greyjoy now. -
Theon stops moving and looks at her with a surprised expression on his face: she laugh and kisses him again.
Joan screams his name when she comes as his release fills her.
He holds her close that night, caresses her dark and soft hair, enjoys the light weight in his arms, her hot breath against his chest, her hand on his heart: he know she's not sleeping when he kisses her forehead and can feel her smile against his skin.
- We will make this work. -
Joan kisses his chest where his heart is.
- We will. -
It's not "I love you", but they have their whole life to get to that.