She woke in the hour of the wolf.
The smoldering fire gave off a dim light, the sound of the logs settling with a pop causing her to blink as she gathered her bearings, the gentle sounds of snores from both Jon and Ghost breaking the stillness of the air. She was warm in the shelter of their bed, heat generating from the solid mass behind her, a possessive arm thrown over and she let out a long breath, savoring the flavor of of being alive.
It was something she had learned, even after the sun broke after so long of being night, the quiet of after war was almost as morbid as the war itself. For many moons, enough to grow and birth a child, there had been dark, chaos, the eerie silent before the noise of the dead, screams of dying.
Now, it was a desolate quiet. The quiet of people learning how to rebuild from the wreckage of what used to be homes and families.
They were all learning how to live again, learning what life now meant and Daenerys found she really had no care for the throne she had won, that Jon had won. They would rule, just like they had lead the fight for life, but it was not as important as it once was. No, not with her sweet boy snuffling softly, barely heard through the open door of the room next to them, a small warning of his impending hunger before the noise went to unrestrained squalling. Her husband sleeping peacefully, finally, the strain of keeping people alive no longer sitting on his shoulders.
Their love, their growing family is what mattered in the end.
Getting up, she crossed into the room to pick up Daeron, shushing him with a smile on her lips, a fingertip down the little nose to distract his fussing as she settled into the chair, cooing words of love she had not known before him.
Pulling her neckline down, she stroked her fingers over soft curls as he rooted around at a breast, before finding what he was looking for and latching on. Laughing at his eagerness, she draped a robe over them, settling into a chair, the low banked fire taking away any chill from the air.
She had borne their son with a winter storm raging around them, in the middle of a war for life, secured behind the walls of Dragonstone, the high stone walls and endless water muffling her toiling and screams. He had come into the world red faced and squalling, making her laugh through her tears when she seen the dark head of hair. It was only fitting that he was the image of his father, the man who had so abruptly changed her life.
Holding their babe in her arms, her strength had faltered, Jon’s parting words of stay there my love, have our child and if we win, I’ll come get you. If not, then run across the sea. Live-, had echoed in her ears, almost enough to keep their son tucked in close and safe.
But she had relented, unable to leave everyone else, leave Jon, to fight without her and handing him over to the people she trusted the most in world, she climbed back onto Drogon, tears freezing as they fell.
And she had cried, big heaving sobs, Jon wrapping her tightly in his arms, keeping her from breaking apart when she had landed at their dwindling camps, taken in their losses, the ache of leaving their son overwhelming her.
But now, they were here, back on Dragonstone, victorious in stopping the march of death, still mourning the loss of so many of their beloved. But living, putting the pieces back together.
A small pop of broken suction, tore her away from somber reflections and she looked down into his eyes, holding steady at her blue, bringing him close enough to nuzzle his soft skin before putting him over her shoulder to burp.
Daenerys cuddled him in close, taking in every feature on his small face, letting it etch into her mind, imprint under her eyelids, to keep locked away in defense of the passage of time. Finally he was no longer content with being fussed over and she stood, knowing well her son’s routine in the short time of being reunited, moving to change him, whisper more words of love as she wrapped him up.
Everyone had told them he should have his own room, but she had protested, Jon readily agreeing, neither one ready to part any distance from the new family they had created. So they settled into their chambers with an adjoining room, able to hear him easily. She had also refused a wet nurse once she was home, the baby who has been fussy while they were apart, settling in happily with his mother, the feeling of it an endless joy
He yawned tiredly, dark little lashes fluttering as his eyelids grew too heavy and Daenerys watched, her heart near bursting with all the love she held in it, as the little mouth rounded and he lost his battle against sleep.
At the edge of the crib, she nestled him close inhaling the scent of her baby, when she felt a warm presence, a familiar hand at the small of her back, a whiskered cheek pressed to her own. Her own eyes closed as she leaned back into the solid bulk of her husband.
“Looks like you two have been up for some time.”
She turned and kissed the corner of his mouth, the warmth of all she felt filling her chest. “You slept soundly my love. I could not bear to wake you.”
He nuzzled her ear in appreciation, a rough thumbing tracing over the mini brow much like his own. “He’s a handsome lad.”
“He looks like his father.” Her tone was laced with humor as she tilted her head to look at Jon. “And he’s a handsome lad. Though I’m not sure lad is appropriate for you.”
He snorted in denial before distracting her with kiss planted under her ear making her shiver in delight, a heat kindling low in her belly.
“Maybe next we’ll have a daughter. Silver haired like her lovely mother.”
The thought of another when she had been convinced for so long that she’d never have any, brought tears to her eyes, her head shaking, strands of hair getting caught in his beard. “You think we’ll have more?”
“Aye.” He wiped his face free, chin resting on her shoulder while he stared at their son. “I want to make more babies with you Daenerys.”
The gruffness of his voice sent a tingle all the way to her toes and she sighed, the thought of raising more children with Jon filling her with joy. “We seem to have done well with our first attempt.”
He chuckled, a warm sound in her ear. “I had somethin’ to prove.”
It was her turn the laugh, careful not to jostle Daeron whom was sleeping soundly. “I think you proved a lot on that ship.” Her cheeks heated in remembrance, even though she’d had him so many times since he first knocked on that door.
“I intend to keep provin’ it.”
It was a promise intended to heat her with lust, to reassure what was once a bruised and broken heart and she let it do both, drinking in the peaceful bliss of Jon’s hand splayed across her flattened belly and the life they had created.
Finally and with reluctance she moved to put him down, Jon’s thumb grazing over the rounded cheek, before she followed it with a kiss, settling him amongst the blankets and furs.
“Soon it will be too warm for all this.” Jon squeezed a small foot before moving back, tucking Daenerys into him. “He was born in winter, the cold won’t be more than a nuisance to him.”
Turning in his arms, she went up on her toes, staring into the dark eyes that captivated her from the first. “He is also the blood of a dragon. The cold will not touch him.”
Those plump lips turn up in a smile and she was unable to resist, arching up to take his mouth in a sucking bite. Large rough hands cupped her buttocks, squeezing firmly, pulling a wanton moan from within her chest, his fingers digging in deep, his arousal captive between them.
A whimper had her pulling away, vision blurry as she peeked over the edge of the crib, to find Daeron still sleeping despite the disturbance. Still, there was no use waking the baby and she threaded her fingers through Jon’s, pulling him back through the door. A little distance to muffle noise.
In their room, a strong arm caught her around the middle pulling her back into that warrior’s chest, all hard muscle and cut lines, marred by ugly scars and she did not protest, hands clamping down over his wrist to steady herself as the buzzing of need sounded in her ears. His lips found her neck in an open mouthed kiss and she shivered against him, heat building rapidly.
“The Maester said no strenuous activity with your ribs.” She chided even as she lifted her chin to allow him better access to the sensitive flesh. He had taken a blow to the chest, among the multitude of injuries, breaking four ribs, leaving his chest mottled purple and black, then worry of fever settling in as he was binded and bed ridden. She had been a bundle of raw nerves, a new baby, an injured husband, a broken kingdom.
“They’ve near healed.”
His furred cheek was scraping in a delicious slide against the spot under her ear, his erection nestled into the roundness of her buttocks. She whimpered as a hand dipped below the neckline of the tunic she was wearing, Jon’s tunic, sucking in a breath as he scooped up a heavy breast. Her neck could no longer hold the weight of her head, lolling back to his shoulder, hissing in appreciation of his gentle manipulations.
“Near healed is not healed.” Her breath was lost at the end of her words, his clever fingers sliding up her thigh and she could feel her arousal, a hot heat of wet traveling to greet him.
It was almost three turns of the moon since she’d given birth, one moon since the long night had ended and one fumbled attempt at seeking comfort in each other somewhere in between.
Too long since they’d properly had each other. And Dany found it suddenly unbearable to make it any longer.
“I’m willin’ to risk it.” Fingers found the inside of wet thighs. “Oh, gods love.” His face buried in her neck, teeth biting sharply. “I need you.”
Whimpering with need, reaching back to thread her fingers through his loose hair, the other hand feeling the healing scar on his forearm, a throbbing ache between her legs, she tried to stand strong if he was going to be such a temptation. “If we re-injure them….”
She trailed off as he spun her around, her skin feeling hot and too tight when his nose bumped hers, a devious smile on his lips.
“I’ll let you do all the work.”
“Is it not enough to just be with me?” She tried, brushing her lips against his, in a half hearted plea, worry warring with want.
“Yes.” His expelled air tickled her mouth. “No. Come to bed Dany. I want you, if you still want me?”
Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she hummed, pinching the flesh above his lovely arse before sliding her hands down his underclothes, grabbing gleefully at the rounded offering. His mouth closed over hers, seeking to give and to take and with a sigh of surrender she opened for him.
Jon Snow always had a talent for knocking her off balance, whether it be with his muleish stubbornness to do right, the ferocity in which he loved, or the ease in which he could tie her up in knots and then subsequently unravel her. She succumbed, throwing herself wholeheartedly under his spell.
Any leftover residue of uncertainty was swept away in a wind of want with his fingers stroking her skin, his mouth delving with a magic and she became greedy, her own desperation shown with a hand sliding between them, the tracing of ridges and bumps of his abdomen.
Whispered words of love were spoken against her mouth, then her neck and she clung, trying to keep up as he pulled the tunic over her head, dropping it unceremoniously behind him. She shivered when his mouth dropped to her breast, a hardened tip ready to meet him as he sampled and nipped, her needy groan filling the room.
It was difficult to remain on task when he was doing that, her head beginning to fuzz like she’d had too much wine, but she found the trail of hair between narrow hips, eyes closed to enjoy the sensations he was pulling from her, enjoying the journey down to her goal. When she fisted his cock, heat washing over her in a wave, he made a low growl in his throat and she found herself being backed towards the bed at the rapid speed of a man with a need.
He tipped her and she bounced gently on their mattress, the shadows on the walls giving her the sense of secrecy, a delicate lesson of coming back together and she pulled at his shoulder, a silent eager begging.
As soon as he settled in beside her, he threw a leg over hers, shoving her other thigh away, a long sloppy kiss while his fingers tested the ripeness of her cunt causing another turn of the coil in her belly. Mindless gasping reverberated against his lips, her hips shameless tilting towards him in a wordless plea to fill her up, make the ache of emptiness disappear.
She could feel him through the thin fabric, the weight of his cock pressed to her leg, her hands trying to move towards it when tapped on her sensitive nub, her body jerking, his teeth scraping over the flesh at her clavicle. A wave of want flowed over her, the need to have him under her mercy and she pushed at his shoulder, whisper over against his lips. With a show of pulling his hand away from her core, the gleam in his eyes as he licked her essence off his fingers, making everything inside tighten with a rush of lust, he obeyed.
Watching him, the long lean line of temping flesh and muscle, her mouth watering as she struggled to her knees, limbs clumsy as she tugged the small clothes off of him.
Finally, with him sprawled out like a feast in front of her, Dany took a breath, trying to gather control of her wildly pounding pulse, dragging her eyes over him in a wanton study. Dark eyes were wild and feral, black as night, looking barely under control, those plumps lips parted on a breath and she felt the thin thread of control start fray, the urge to beg him for an end to the burning inside of her.
Sliding her hands up calves covered in course hair, she watched his response, his cock twitching when she skimmed over his thighs, every inch of him honed down from endless fighting, nothing spare over his frame. Hands flexing restlessly, he finally grabbed for her, catching the ends of silver hair and she went with his pull, straddling him as she went, settling her wet folds over him, both whimpering with the sensation, her teeth settling into his bottom lip. She wriggled, the blunt end of his cock bumping through sensitive folds and she blew out a breath, torn between drawing it out quietly and conquering swiftly.
The need for more driving her, she found the cord of his neck, worrying it with sharp teeth, his hands bound in silver tendrils as she nipped her way south, the sound of heavy exhales a map that she did not need. No, she had studied and learned him well. Kissing lightly over the fading bruising on his chest, she paused to lave his little nipples, the grip in her hair tightening. A nip to remind him to behave and she moved again, settling onto the mattress between his legs.
Her hand wrapped around his cock, pulling it away from his belly, approving of the red flush, the weight, how the girth would fill her as she reached out to flick the head of it with her tongue.
Jon jolted, curling up to rise and she placed a hand on his stomach to halt him, made an admonishing noise in the back of her throat, trying to reassert her dominance. She knew once he was fully riled, wits lost, she’d be subject to the wonderful agony of being under his control and greedily she wanted the reins for a bit longer.
“How long are you goin’ to tease-“
She cut him off, the wet heat of her mouth closing over him as she sucked down, his long groan filling her ears as the rest of her sense filled with his taste, the scent of him in her nose. Looking up through her lashes to drive him a bit mad, she shifted, her neglected core empty and needy, the itch of delayed pleasure skating under her skin.
Pulling off with a pop, she licked at him again, almost undone by the black look on his face, understanding it as his need for selfishness and rewarded him by closing her mouth back over and trying to swallow his cock. His hips surged up, her hair pulled as she gagged, eyes watering until she released him with a heaving breath, both of them eyeing each other with a ragged determination.
He broke first, a crook of his finger, voice rough and thick. “Turn around love. Let me have a go at that pretty cunt and lovely arse.”
She fumbled, whining as he helped her move, helped settle her over him, her face pressed at his hip while he slid a bit lower, head between her knees, a hand on her lower back to encourage a crouch.
The first sweep of his tongue had her limbs shaking, a low keening she silenced by putting his cock back in her mouth. He ran a soothing hand down a flank, before using it to pull her open, fingers probing. She shuddered under it, trying to turn back to her task while he went back to his work.
Legs were trembling as she tried to keep herself up, his arms bracing her as his tongue slid over her nub, flat sweeping strokes that had her crying out around his cock, two fingers inside rubbing along her walls. Trying to not catch her teeth on his delicate flesh, she pulled her mouth off him, burying her face in thigh, the coil inside her wound as tight as it could go.
He caught her clit and sucked. It released, flowing outwards, vision greying as she shook, the air escaping her chest in one long wail. He was well practiced, fingers still wriggling inside her as she seized around them, mouth still pushing her along, until she collapsed on him, arms and legs no longer working.
The chuckle sounded from behind her and she carefully rolled off of him, landing on her back as she tried to catch her breath. “Jon.” She whined, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. There was a smug look on his face, beard shiny and wet as he carelessly wiped a hand across it.
Huffing at him, letting herself collapse back down to tease him, already feeling the ball of need sitting in her womb at the thought of him still aroused and in need of completion.
“Time to fulfill your wifely duties Dany girl.”
She laughed this time, gathering the energy to move, slithering over him, enjoying the contrast of his hard body and scars against her softness. He apparently did also, groaning in appreciation, fingers digging into her buttocks as she caught his bottom lip, sliding her tongue over his mouth to taste.
His grip pulled her up higher, his cock at ready between them and she wriggled a bit in preparation as she licked away the last of her essence from his face with a purr. Finally she sat up, pushing off his chest, his thumbs brushing over the silver marring of her belly with adoration and the fierceness of love that overcame her almost left her shaking.
“Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” She confessed, grabbing his cock, stroking her fingers over it as she admired it, before looking up at him.
“I love you too.”
The reflection of it was in his eyes as always when he looked at her and the thought of it alone could make her weep. Instead, she turned back to the heat of want boiling through her, how wet her cunt was in preparation for him and prepared herself.
After everything, she wasn’t sure if her body was ready or his injuries, for the type of coupling they usually preferred, hard and rough and demanding, but she was ready to try for something as she positioned him, encouraged by his rasping of her name.
It was a burn of sensation flickering through as she slid down his cock slowly, her tongue between her teeth in concentration, the wonderfully familiar parting of flesh as her walls fought the intrusion before welcoming him, coming to rest fully impaled. They were both heaving for air, adjusting to their again, reacquainting flesh as she gave a testing roll of her hips, biting her bottom lip at the stab of pleasure, the overwhelming fullness of him being snug inside of her again.
Leaning forward her hands fanned over his chest she began to move, little whimpers of a steady rhythm, his hand cupping her cheek. She nuzzled into it, kissing lightly the healing scar that ran from his wrist to elbow, closing her eyes to shut out the memory of the flayed open flesh being sewn back together.
“Stay with me love.”
Her breath hitched at his words and she realized she had stopped her ride. She opened her eyes to look at him, losing what was left of her wits at the gaze open and raw, full of love. With a half cry she crashed down onto him, needing his taste in her mouth, her tongue slicking eagerly along his, hips moving again, catching his groan against her lips.
A hand between her shoulders was his tell and she went as he rolled them over, legs hugging his hips, belly to belly. Finally. “I’ve missed this.” She confessed, arching her neck with his first thrust, the pleasure of being this close without a baby in the way a novelty, the intimacy bringing the burn of tears.
His nose brushed hers, an extra grind of his hips causing little stars to explode behind her eyelids. Hands slid easily over his back, her nails digging into his arse as he began to fuck her in earnest, the noises spilling from her throat spurring him on.
It was a fire, combustible and unstoppable racing through her veins, feeding her need, being pulled apart as her body clamped around him. His face buried in her neck, his control spiraling and she slid her hand between them, an extra push needed. The area of their joined bodies was slick, heat pouring forth as she circled her clit, a low growl in his chest when he figured out what she was doing. Normally he was possessive, wanting to do it himself but they were both on the slippery slope of completion and he let her be, her teeth biting at his shoulder.
As she teetered on the edge, a ragged groan ripped through him, hips slamming into her roughly, the hot spill of him inside of her and she was letting go, falling into the cracks, clamping around him even as she clung to him to keep herself together.
Finally they both stopped, his weight pressing her into the covers and mattress and she let her eyes closed, fingers trailing down his back, relishing in the carnal delight of having him in this manner again. He roused slowly, elbows coming underneath to prop himself up and she smiled, heart thumping wildly at the sight of him rumpled and flushed. “Well done Jon Snow.”
His teeth flashed when he laughed and he dipped down to kiss her lightly, love and affection flowing through her veins. When they pulled apart, he rolled off of her, hissing at the strain of his ribs before looking over to her from the flat of his back.
“They’re fine love, don’t fret.”
Wiping hair out of her face and deciding to believe him, she sat up, wincing when she looked down at him against their covers.. “You’re a mess.” She looked down at her own chest. “And I’m a mess.”
“Aye, well that was bound to happen. A bath to start our day then?”
Looking back out the window, noting the dark still filling it, she collapsed back into his chest with a determination. “Daeron will sleep for some time still. We should try that also. A bath later.”
With reluctance she let him up, grateful when he brought back a wet rag to wipe them both down, ignoring the plop it made when he tossed it to the floor. Stretching out her length along him, luxuriating in the feeling of skin against skin, she snuggled in close, his heartbeat under her ear, his fingers tangled in her hair.
She closed her eyes.