THE FALLEN LORD COMMANDER
Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he's been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him. Val would rue the day she said those words to him as she idly flipped her bone-hilted knife around, her pink lips curled in that insufferable mocking smile of hers as she gazed at him.
Lord Snow this, Lord Crow that; if she's so insistent on calling me a lord, the woman is in dire need of getting taught how lords take their rights then. Trudging through the snow, Jon caressed Longclaw's pommel, Ghost snapping at his heels not too far. Val's tent was but a short stride away, set up around the ground of Castle Black in the midst of the wildling camp made as a refugee for the survivors of Hardhome.
They came upon her tent, him and Ghost, like two thieves creeping in the night, about to steal some precious object. Val is precious to the free folk, and I'll have her for my own at the end of the night. Jon threw a look at his white companion, looking into his blood-red eyes purposely. Ghost needed no further instructions and knew what he was tasked to do. Taunting a wolf is beyond foolish. Show the bitch what the consequences are. Show her that wolves do not like to be snarled at.
Jon opened Val's tent and crawled inside, silent and quick as a shadow, hand clutching Longclaw tighter. What he was about to do would have horrified his old self, 'honourable' Lord Commander Jon Snow.
Right now, Jon could not find a bone inside himself to care; as sinister as it sounded, Jon felt liberated after being brought back from the dead. When Melisandre had resurrected, his first act was hanging the traitors who plunged their daggers into him, watching them dangle with dark satisfaction, a butcher gazing at his best lumps of meat right before hacking them to pieces. Then, instead of showing his gratitude, he executed the Red Woman himself, taking her head for burning Princess Shireen for her savage ritual to bring him back from the dead.
Now, the mirage of death clung to him, a sharp smell he could not wash out of his clothes no matter how many times he tried, still reeking of something utterly repugnant and despicable; the scent reminded him of a lichyard theatre, rotting corpses dancing across the dais.
Death had a way of perverting the soul of victims who survived the encounter, it seemed; corrupt and rot one's heart until a twisted shell of their former self remained, decay inside dripping like droplets of blood. Jon was ready to indulge in the suffering of others with no regards whatsoever. He had seen it in countless of wights, this undead desire for savagery. Was he a wight now? It would explain this urge to do violence.
It should have scared him, but it did not. If Jon was honest, he revelled in the knowledge that, for once, he was about to set loose, no more bound by the laws of virtue and honour; he was done being the virtuous Lord Commander, done with trying to show the world that his 'honourable' father had four sons instead of three, done with swallowing done insults and injuries from those around him who were worthless and of no use.
Done with keeping himself warm with the thought that he could rise above his bastardy.
Done with caring so fucking much about the world that kept pushing him towards the precipice.
Jon was done being an honourable fool.
He wanted to fuck his frustrations out of his body.
And he had the perfect candidate in mind for that.
Val's hair surrounded her pretty face like melted honey, a halo of bright tresses, lying sideways, with the rims of her furs reaching the edge of her waist, the curve of her wide hips supple and accentuated. Her full breasts rose and fell with each soft breath steadily leaving her full lips, the sequence mesmerizing. Jon hummed as he licked his own lips, excitement and arousal flushing up inside his chest. Oh, he was going to enjoy ravaging her, the sharp-tongued woman that she was.
Tying the entrance shut, Jon stalked towards the wildling princess with the hunger of a ravenous predator; Val always dressed in the purest of white clothes; white as a little snow bunny. The need to devour that snow bunny filled him to the brim. Ghost came to mind then, and the numerous times Jon had warged into him while he feasted upon the flesh of his prey. Jon was about to enact a similar act.
She lied there, swathed in thick bear furs, uncharacteristically vulnerable and defenceless, nothing like the snarky and strong wildling who made it her wont to belittle him and his men at every turn. Approaching her prone figure, Jon brandished a dragonglass dagger out of his furs, placing Longclaw on the ground as he crept up towards her; if Val started to give protest, which she surely would, his sword would not be much of help to him, too confined in this little space. A dagger, on the other hand, would help Jon much more.
By a stroke of fate, Val rolled over in her furs, coming to lie on her back, her pale grey eyes fluttering open and taking his shadowy figure in dizzily. Then, they widened in alarm, sleep no longer clouding her eyes, and quickly, she reached for her dagger to her right. Jon was faster, though, and pounced upon her roughly, catching her wrists and slamming them against the ground beneath with a loud thud.
Val glared heatedly above her, baring her white fangs at him, like a snarling wolf, high cheekbones sharp in the light given by the little lamp beside her. Then, she snorted in disbelief, looking at the person pinning her against the ground with unadulterated surprise.
"Lord Crow...?" Jon ground his teeth at the nickname, tightening his hold on her wrists. Gods, how he hated the nickname.
"That's right, Val. Surprised to see me?" He retorted. Val scoffed loudly, wriggling beneath him.
"What's the meaning of this, crow? Have you lost your wits about coming to my bed in the dead of night?" Val's eyes burnt with outrage as she snarled at him, struggling to get free. Jon ground his teeth harder, and brought up a hand in the air.
And then let it fall quickly down across Val's face, slapping her across the cheek with harsh force.
The sound cracked throughout the tent, filling the silence, followed by a feminine grunt. Val's face was thrown to the side, shell shocked and open-mouthed, staring at the wall of the tent. Jon felt an overwhelming sensation of satisfaction seeing the proud wilding princess at a loss of words.
"You fucking kneeler..." She whispered, bringing her raging eyes back at him with enough intensity to melt steel. They had turned a shade of light blue now, burning like fire, unlike those of the undead with their cold and dead eyes. "...have you truly forsaken your life!? How dare you lay your hands on me!"
Jon's instincts rang between his ears, warning him of a sudden assault. They were right. In a burst of surprising strength, Val tried shoving him off of her, but he would have none of that and doubled down on the blonde, pinning her further on the ground as he kept straddling her.
"I'll do as I'll please with you," He snarled back, bringing his face closer to her. "your little act of 'hard to get' ends here, wildling." Jon never took to calling them wildlings after his time with Ygritte, coming to respect them as the free folk, but now, it felt good belittling the woman all of the free folk looked at with deference with a name such as wildling. Wildlings were savages, and with savages, a man could do as he pleased with.
"What the fuck are you bleating about?" Val cursed, glaring daggers at him still.
Again, she struggled underneath his grip, and Jon was tiring of her little squirms and wriggles. Not taking his eyes off of her, Jon flashed his dragonglass dagger, pressing it to her throat. Val grew pliant in an instant, eyes blown wide and fearful with the cold feel of dragonglass pushing against her susceptible throat.
"I've decided to take you up on your offer, Val." Jon began, tilting his head slightly. He gave her a sinister smile. "I'm going to honour your tradition and fuck you right here, right into the furs you like to brag about." He pressed the blade of his dagger against her throat further.
Val did not look in the least bit deterred, smirking at him, derision dancing in her pale eyes. "You wouldn't dare slit my throat, crow; the free folk will cut you open and feed you your own intestines once they find out you killed me. And for what? A fuck beneath the furs?"
Nodding, Jon slightly lifted the pressure. "You're right, I won't kill you just to have my wick dipped. I'm not a fool." Val's victorious smirk bled across her face openly; she thought she had him by the balls with that statement. Jon kept on grinning, though, and brought back the blade of his dagger against Val's pale skin, adding more pressure this time, enough for her to gasp slightly as the skin gave way, piercing it. A trickle of blood started to seep out, coating the blade red. "I'll just cut off your tongue so you won't be able to yap about this to others. Besides, even if I slit your throat, your body will be warm for a few hours. Enough for a quick fuck. I like you alive, however, alive and properly taught a lesson."
Val seemed to finally realize the situation she was in, her earlier bravado now slowly leeching out of her like poison out of a wound, replaced by cold dread. Her beautiful eyes narrowed, conflict taking over, replacing the simmering anger from before.
Jon pushed the rugged furs aside, grabbing the clothes covering her bosom with a rough hand. "I'm going to make you my woman." Squeezing her breast, Jon locked eyes with Val, the edges of his mouth sharp like knives. "I'm going to make you my woman precisely how Mance took your sister, how Tormund took his wife and how all you wildlings like to take your women." Jon bent over, his breathing washing over Val's ear. "By taking you like an animal and fucking you senseless." Straightening his back, the grin vanished from his face, bone-chilling contempt in its stead. "Is that clear, princess?"
After what seemed like an eternity, Val's eyes shifted imperceptibly, biting into her plump lips as she resigned to her fate.
Val's surrender pleased Jon endlessly, a fire lighting up inside his guts and coursing through veins ardently. Most of all, that fire spread downwards, towards his loins, stirring his base desires like logs thrown about a bonfire.
"Good. Now..." Palming her breast again, Jon lowered his dagger so it rested against her soft flesh. "Let's get rid of these layers, shall we?"
She protested, but Jon did not care, as he did for most things right now, and started cutting into Val's white tunic. Her full breasts spilt out once he was done, naked before his grey eyes, her pink nipples taut as the cold air grazed their skin. Jon could feel himself swell at their sight.
"What is it, crow? Did you soil your breeches looking at a woman's breasts? Are these the first pair you've seen in your life?" Val sneered, finding her voice again, a little bit of that smugness so quintessential to her character oozing back. "Ygritte was as flat as a plank, but you already know that, don't you? Poor Lord Crow didn't have anything to play with as he fucked his kissed-by-fire wildling lover like a greenboy."
Jon smacked her again, this time hard enough to leave a red imprint of his hand over her face.
"I don't want to hear witty remarks, Val." Jon growled, working at the laces of his breeches. His cock sprang free once he was done unlacing, and Jon took himself in hand once he spat into his palm, stroking himself to life. "Luckily for you, I washed today, so you won't be gagging on the smell of piss and sweat."
"Gagging...?" She repeated, lips puckering and face scrunching in gradual dread.
Grabbing a fistful of her blonde hair, Jon looked his fill of her grey eyes defiantly staring at him, making him lick his lips. "Never sucked a cock before, princess?" Val declined to answer, instead eying his cock with wariness and thinly veiled apprehension before she threw them back at Jon. Another idea came to mind then. Gurgling, Jon spat a fat dollop of his saliva onto the vale of her breasts, causing her face to twist in outrage. "Push your teats together."
Val snarled up at him, but did as he bid, bringing her soft hands towards the sides of her breasts and pushing them up and together. Jon was finished stroking his member to life, now standing proudly at attention, slick and wet with his own spit.
Grinning, Jon lowered himself and properly sat astride Val, putting his length between her supple teats. One of his hands still clasped the dragonglass dagger and pressed it against her svelte throat while the other started fondling the lovely weight of her tit, tweaking a nipple between his finger. Ygritte had nothing to show for in terms of endowment, hard and bony and all muscle. No soft curves to be found on her. Val, on the other hand, was both a warrior and a woman, with all the strength of a fighter while nubile as a highborn maiden. Jon cursed himself for a fool for refusing Stannis when he offered him both Winterfell and Val that faithful day.
Jon let out a stiff groan, thrusting his cock back and forward into her tits, basking in the feeling of her soft flesh caressing his length. Many of King Stannis' men jeered over Val's breasts, saying how good they looked for whelping children, They were not wrong, for these breasts were firm and soft at the same time. Good for suckling babes, and apparently, also good to serve as an impromptu cunt.
"Stick out your tongue." Jon ordered. Val made a sound of disgust, but Jon would not have that and stopped his shallow thrusting. He raised his dagger and slid it across her cheek. She winced at the feeling of her skin being cut, a thin red line appearing across her once unblemished face. Maliciously, Jon then stilled his dagger at the base of her chin. "Still defiant, are we?" Val shook her head. "Good, now, do as you're told. "
Val opened her pretty lips and poked her tongue out. Jon resumed plunging his cock between her tits, the glans stabbing the tip of her tongue, forcefully making her taste the salt of his leak.
In earnest, his hips began to plunge forward, each hard thrust meeting her tongue and almost making his cock delve into the depths of Val's hot mouth. The sensation was numbing his mind, the pleasure coursing through him like sparks of shock, going all the way down to the end of his fingers and toes. Each time Jon thrust his hips forward, he grunted forcefully, like an animal, like a demon.
"Spit on your teats, make your breasts slick with our saliva." Her face pinched, disgust written all over it, but knowing that she was hapless right now, Val gathered spittle into her mouth and wettened her cleavage, further sleeking his member and allowing him to fuck her teats more ferociously.
A knot began to form at the core of his stomach, furled tight and heavy, building up, up, up to a climax he was desperately eager to reach. He was about to spill. Not like this, though. Jon did not want his seed to sully her breasts. He wanted to peak inside, and it did not matter where. Another idea formed inside his mind.
"Get up." Jon whispered sharply, rising from his place. He commanded his new wildling toy to shed her thick clothes while he grabbed the little crutch flung in the corner of her tent. "Be quick about it, or there will be consequences."
Val gave him a baleful look as she slowly undressed, stripping herself of layers of white lambswool and bearskin. Once she was done, she stood before him in all her naked glory. Jon's cock twitched crazily, throbbing with need. Gods, she was beautiful with her large breasts now in full sight, pink nipples pebbled by the cold, erect and coloured an angry red from his earlier abuse.
The slope of her hips was graceful and honed like that of a weirwood bow, curved and full-fledged, perfect for childbearing. Her long creamy legs were toned and strong from trudging and climbing the harsh soils of the lands beyond the Wall, white as the wools she always wore. Val also had a mesmeric rear, ample with flesh. How they would feel filling up his palms, Jon wondered.
But the prettiest thing about Val was her cunt. Her pretty little cunt, a small thatch of bright hair across her mound, nicely groomed and shiny, like threads of gold. Just the thought of how her most private place would taste like made him feel heady, drunk almost, as if too much ale flowed through his veins.
"Get over here, Val, your mouth is far from done doing its duty." Hesitantly, she padded forward. "On your knees."
"I'm no fucking kneeler..." She hissed back with vitriol. This had to be the most humiliating order Jon could give her. It made him swell painfully in unbridled satisfaction.
Jon came to stand on his feet with surprising speed, his hands landing on top of her naked hips with rough force, fingers digging into her flesh. His hand still held on to the dragonglass dagger, trapped between her hip and his palm. "You'll kneel if I tell you to." The tip of his dagger poked into her side.
Val gasped, and Jon took his chance. Taking a mane full of her hair, Jon crashed his lips against hers, kissing her in the most bruising way known to him. His teeth bit into her bottom lip, hand buried in her hair curled into a fist, throwing his weight forward and forcing Val to accept the intrusion into her mouth.
Then, she moaned into his mouth, her sweet taste invading his taste buds.
Is she enjoying this...?
Their mouths separated, and Jon did not allow for Val to gasp for much needed air, dragging her by the roots of her locks down to her knees, himself taking his place again on the crutch. Without preamble, Jon's cock was pressed against Val's cheek, smearing her face with his leak and their saliva. "Suck."
"In your fucking dreams I'll-"
The defiance on her sweet tongue spurred a raging fire inside him, the enraged but desperate little lilt making him yank at the hair with vicious force, making her open her mouth as she grunted. Not allowing her to recover, Jon pushed her head down, forcing Val to take his cock's entire length. Jon could feel her gag, failing to accommodate him. Grinning in dark satisfaction, Jon took a moment to drink in and indulge in the vision of his cock wrapped around Val's lips.
Before he started to fuck her face in earnest.
He settled with a punishing rhythm, forcing Val's head down when he bucked his hips up, his balls slapping against her chin as their movement went in tandem. The gargling sounds Val was coerced to make obscenely filled the tent, mixed with Jon's groans of pleasure. Once in a while, Jon stilled her movements, seating himself as deep as he could inside her throat, his cock swallowed entirely by the walls of her searing throat.
Val protested heavily, trashing her hands against his thighs as she gagged and spluttered, before coughing as he unburied his cock from her throat before repeating the act. Jon could see how his cock glistened with copious amount of Val's spit.
Jon lost track of time as this went on; a couple of minutes, an hour, maybe half of that, he did not know. He did not care either.
"Oh, I'm about to spill..." Jon suddenly groaned as he kept thrusting, plunging his cock with deep and unabashed power into Val's mouth, pushing himself to the hilt inside her. The knot from earlier came back, unbidden, now unfurling repeatedly until Jon felt himself come apart and peak with violent force, spurting thick ropes of his seed into Val's waiting mouth. He forced her head down as hard as he could, keeping her there as he kept spilling. Feeling his cock cease its twitching did he release his vice-like hold on Val's head, throwing her face back and letting the cool air around touch his girth.
"If you so much as let a drop fall from your mouth, I'll subjugate you to another round of face-fucking." Val widened her eyes as he growled at her. Grinning in malicious content, Jon looked on as Val kept her lips closed and swallowed his seed down her throat, never letting her eyes leave his.
She turned away from him slowly, her back towards Jon; her back and her beautiful rear, her body on all fours. "Are you done now...?"
No, he was not. In truth, Jon wanted to stop here, found himself somewhat satisfied, but Val erred grievously; she turned that beautiful arse of hers towards him. A grievous error indeed.
Naturally, his cock would come back to life, his settling blood stirring once more, when such a flawless backside was presented to him. And to make matters worse, Jon, with his sharp grey eyes, discovered something even more beautiful; her pretty little cunt was gleaming with arousal.
Val was wet for him.
Wet like a bitch in heat.
Growling, Jon left the cruck behind and came to genuflect behind Val, planting a hand roughly on top of her arse, slapping it as he was about to mount her. She flinched, looking behind her, disbelief scattered across her pale eyes. "You're fucking joking..."
"Do I look like a jester to you?" With one fell swoop, Jon sheathed himself inside Val's cunt, pushing himself deep inside her, so deep, his balls rested against her nub. There was no need for him to slicken her folds; Val was more than wet enough for his cock to effortlessly glide inside. She may not have shown it, but Jon was more than assured that despite her flimsy protests, she was liking this rough bout of fucking.
Val, for the lack of a matter word, keened at the sudden incursion, tightening painfully around his member, making him groan the air out of his lungs. Jon knew she was trying hard not to let any sound escape her mouth, grinding her teeth together audibly, but she was disappointing herself in that quest.
Even more so when Jon started to thrust.
His eyes took in how Val's arse rippled every time his thighs hit her from behind powerfully, making him grab a hand full of her supple flesh to knead. Jon spared no time seeking out his pleasure, letting his cock go in and out with determination, slamming his pelvis into her with reckless abandon seen only in patrons of a brothel. She is my whore now, so fucking her like this is only natural.
The wet sound of sweating bodies coming together was music to Jon's ears, further sweetened by the little moans Val was giving each time he buried himself balls deep inside her glorious womanhood. Jon bucked his hips forward, more, and more, and more, causing her rear and cunt to redden prettily from the abuse. But it was not enough. He wanted more. He wanted to go deeper. Jon wanted to go so deep, deeper than he ever went inside Ygritte.
Jon wanted his cock to knock against the entrance of Val's womb.
Not knowing how to get that gratification, Jon reached out with a hand, pulling and twisting Val's mane into his hand, twirling and twirling until Jon forced her to arch her back for him, making him hit an angle so utterly perfect, the raspy growl tumbling over his lips nearly made him spill right at this very moment. Now, he was hitting that sweet spot.
Jon pulled at her locks hard, a hand coming to smack her abused arse each time he managed to 'find home'.
"From now on, you'll be mine, Val. Wildling or not, I've taken you for my own. I'm going to fill you with my seed, again, and again, and again, until you're round with my child." Oh, how that outcome would please him. The thought caused his balls to seize up, taut as a bow about to loose its arrow. Jon was walking across the edge, and ready to tumble down into the abyss.
Jon could feel himself peaking any moment now, but he had no make his point come across before that could happen. He spread his knees, opening Val's legs as a result, allowing him to pound her faster. " You'll suck my cock when I tell you to, you'll spread your legs when I want you to." Thrusting harder, the sound of their bodies meeting grew louder and louder. By now, Jon was sure he had awoken a few of the free folk. Fuck if he cared. "You'll bear my children, you'll let them suckle these..." A hand glided down her back, grabbing her full breast. "...fine teats. But most of all..." Others take him, it was so fucking hard to speak coherently while rutting into Val like a beast. Jon was determined to persevere, however, and with a growl that would make Ghost swell with pride, he slammed his hip a final time into that sinfully tight cunt he was misusing violently. "...you will know that the man who conquered you was the very man you threatened to geld if he dared to steal into your bed! Understood!?"
"Yes!" Val screamed back.
"Who do you belong to!?"
That's right, his soul roared in victory as his cock burst inside her, spurting out six painfully hard ropes of his seed inside Val's conquered cunt. As he peaked, Jon could sense her clamping down on his cock, telling him of her release as well. Peaking from being fucked like an animal, truly a wildling. Jon smirked.
His hand threatened to root out the kernels of her beautiful locks, and when he realized his mistake, Jon let loose his grip on Val's hair, allowing her to fall forward and rest on her elbows. Bowing forward, Jon made her face turn, coercing her to look at him. With overwhelming strength, Jon captured her lips, red from abuse, into a kiss, sinking his teeth into their plumpness like he was biting a plum. Then, he let go of her face and pushed her off his cock.
Panting, Jon wiped the sweat off his face, taking a moment to come down from his high. Wits about him once more, Jon gathered a large brown fur cloak from the ground and threw it over Val's sweaty form. Tugging his breeches up, Jon let out a heavy sigh, his body content and sated. He dared a look over his shoulder. Seed trickled out of her well fucked cunt, and Jon felt another great rush of satisfaction course through him, his lips tucking into a smug smile.
"Dawn is almost upon us, Val. Catch some rest, we'll be discussing our route across the North and see if we can join King Stannis and his host." No response came to him, but Jon had no patience to wait for an answer and opened her tent. Ghost lied at the feet of the entrance, perking up when he stepped outside.
With a pat on top of his great companion, Jon marched through the snow back to Castle Black, the beast, the wolf inside him sated and slumbering.
For now, at least.