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As Jon turned the corner and spotted the Stark family’s estate up ahead, he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Even from a distance, he could hear the screams from playing children, and when he rolled down the window, the air sizzled with the smell of sausages and hamburger patties. He wiped a droplet of sweat off his eyebrow and corrected his shades before giving the bright blue sky a stare. He knew at once that he should feel grateful: it was summer, he was off work, and his family was irking to see him.
People pray for less, Jon reminded himself as he turned into the driveway and parked his truck behind a red Mini Cooper. Only I pray for way less and always get way more.
For a moment, he sat in the sweltering heat of his car and listened to the buzzing from his mobile phone. No doubt his mum was spamming him with WhatsApp messages - Lyanna was fond of sharing minion-memes and inspiring quotes she’d come across on Facebook. Jon wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t for the fact that she expected a reply to each and every one of them. He had ignored her for two weeks. Now, he wondered what scolding awaited him on the other side of the front door.
If there’s a God, he’ll strike me dead now and awaken me once this is over, Jon thought and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His hands clenched around the sticky leather of the steering wheel. He pulled a face as he tried to pray for the first time since childhood. Come on!
“Is there an issue?” someone asked.
Jon jumped and stared out the window at the stranger who’d appeared. A pair of pink-framed sunglasses were pushed to the crack. He could just see the outline of some soft pale lashes bashing in amusement at his fright.
“Is there what?” he heard himself utter. It was only then, as the woman stepped away from the glass to cross her arms, that he could fully take her in: curly silver locks blowing in the hot breeze, a white mini-dress which clashed with skin tanned golden, a hint of sweat visible just by her neckline.
Jon swallowed as the woman sent him a teasing smile: “Normally when a man pulls up behind a woman and stays in his car, it’s a sign of danger.”
“It’s a driveway,” Jon said dumbstruck before adding: “And I’m not dangerous.”
“We’ll see,” the woman replied and bit down on her lower lip. The edges of her teeth turned red from her lipstick. For some reason, it made Jon’s spine tingle. “If you’re not planning a quick escape, why’s your vehicle still on?”
Jon stared at the key in the engine. Then, with a slow movement, he reached over, turned it, and heard the world around them fall silent as the motor whirred to a halt.
The woman sighed in relief. “Thank fuck for that,” she said brashly, “I was getting a headache.”
As Jon stepped out of the car, he couldn’t help but give the woman another lookover. There was something familiar about her frame that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and as his gaze lingered at the depth of her collarbone, he heard her chuckle:
“Do I pass the examination, Doctor?”
Jon flushed. I thought these shades were darker, he mused before pushing them onto his forehead. The sun shined right into his eyes. He found himself squinting at her. “You’re not a Stark,” he said.
The woman cocked her head. “I sure am not.”
“Are you with someone?” Jon asked. He immediately thought of his brother Robb who’d recently started dating. What was her name again? he thought, Margherita or something.
“Aren’t you bold,” the woman smirked. She had started walking the steps up to the front door, and Jon followed close behind, his gaze roaming her body. The dress was tied at her neck, the ends of the ribbons fluttering down her exposed back. A large tattoo of a dragon was nestled around her spine. “Asking if I’m single.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jon assured her, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink, but he also heard himself add: “But are you?”
The woman just sent him a small smile over her shoulder. Jon could’ve sworn her eyes moved behind those dark shades of hers, lingering at his face for a moment longer than necessary before she turned back to ring the doorbell.
Dogs barked. A tired voice groaned, “Arya, get them in order!”, and a lot of grunting and swearing followed before the door flung open and Ned stepped out onto the threshold with a surprised look on his face. He was clad in tight shorts and a pink button-up sporting pineapples. Jon could only assume Catelyn had been shopping in the dark.
“Jon!” Ned roared and pulled him into a hug.
Jon gave his back a few gentle pats as he grimaced. “Good to see you, Ned,” he choked. Despite the greying hairs and fattening form, Ned’s arms were as strong as ever, and he was squeezing every ounce of air out of Jon’s body.
As Ned’s hold on him loosened, he just heard him say: “And you’ve brought-” before Arya’s voice shrieked:
“Dany!” His little sister was like a whirlwind - she stormed between Jon and Ned, wrapped her skinny arms around the woman’s waist, and pressed her nose into her dress as she hugged her tightly. “You came! Dany, you came!”
Jon stared as the woman - Dany, supposedly - lifted Arya with a groan and just managed to give her a proper hug before letting her plop back down. “Of course I did! Couldn’t stay away forever, now, could I?”
“Dany?” Jon mumbled. His brain was whirring. Perhaps the heat was slowing it down, but it wasn’t until she removed her sunglasses and sent him a humoured glance that his memory was jogged. Her eyes were unmistakably Targaryen: glimmering violet. “Aunt Dany?”
It had been five years - at least. Last he remembered, his aunt was some frail-looking thing heading off to university. Catelyn was fond of saying that she looked sick. Back then, Jon almost agreed with her; Daenerys had been skin and bones at best, and her eyes had always been clouded as if she was watching the world through a fog.
But now? - Jon eyed her fleshy hips and confident stance and the cocky smile she wore on her lips - well, now she looked Instagram ready.
Daenerys spoke softly: “It’s so good to see you, nephew - I can see some things never change.” Her eyes did a quick once-over before she added in a small voice: “Whilst others certainly have.”
Jon swallowed audibly. Ned looked like he wanted to ask a question. Arya, however, was quicker than either of them - she zoomed around to Daenerys’ back and gasped in awe. “I knew it was going to be cool!” she chirped as she eyed the tattoo.
“Do you like it?” Daenerys asked, though she never broke eye-contact with Jon. “I have two more.”
Jon averted his eyes just in time to catch Ned blinking in confusion. “Come on, kiddos,” he said and waved them all inside, “the party’s out back.”
Someone had given Rickon control of the sound system. Baby Shark was playing on loop, and as Jon nestled in the shade of the old weirwood tree, he tried to block out the sun as well as the upbeat song. He could feel a headache coming along. He cracked open his third can of beer and downed it as he tried to dull his mind.
Lyanna pinched his side. “Are you even listening?” she asked.
Jon sent his mother an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he mumbled and wiped some foam off his moustache. “I’m just feeling a bit tired.
“It’s the sun,” his mother sighed and keenly eyed the bright sky. “We northerners were never made for hot weather. Although you could help yourself a little.” She gestured to Jon’s dark outfit.
Jon stretched his legs and grimaced as the denim groaned around his muscles. “It’s the style , Mum. It’s fashionable.” In truth, he wasn’t really certain - at least Sansa had been quick to let him know that “Grunge died in the 90s.” She was stalking around the pool in a neon dress. If that’s smart, I don’t want it, Jon decided with a frown.
Lyanna merely rolled her eyes. “At least your father knows how to dress.”
“What, Ned?” Jon said appalled and stared toward him. He was busy flipping burgers on the grill, stopping ever so often to check his pineapple-shirt for marks.
Lyanna scoffed: “Your real father, Jon.”
Jon paused as he tried to remember what Rhaegar looked like. He hadn’t seen him since childhood. A vague image of a silver-haired man flickered before his eyes, but whether his features were real or imagined, Jon couldn’t tell. “It’s because he’s a Targaryen,” he finally said, sensing that his mother expected a reply. “Targaryens are just-”
Before Jon could finish his sentence, his eyes caught sight of something; bright red, glimmering golden, flickering silver. Daenerys Targaryen jumped off the diving board, her trained body arching perfectly in the air before she plunged head-first straight into the pool. Water splashed, Sansa shrieked in surprise, and Arya laughed with glee as she ran around the edge.
As she reappeared, Jon watched it in slow-motion; how she glided from the surface of the water, her curls flattened down the sides of her face, her lips rounded in a breath. Droplets of water ran down her tanned skin, and the red fabric of her bikini appeared to only just cling onto her body.
“Targaryens are just something else,” Lyanna finished his sentence with a warm smile.
All Jon could do was nod; his throat seemed to have clenched shut. He instinctively pressed the metal of the beercan to his cheek as he watched Daenerys flip onto her back and swim toward the board.
For the next few minutes, they quietly watched as Daenerys repeatedly dived into the pool. She did it with such ease and precision that Jon almost expected to see a mermaid’s tail grow from her waist. Arya was elated, insisting that Daenerys learned her way to do a Cannonball (“optimised for most splashing!”). It was only when Catelyn loudly proclaimed that “some people just live for attention” that Daenerys flushed and settled up against the side of the pool in silence, finally bringing Jon’s attention back to the world around them.
“She’s come so far,” Lyanna sighed. She was sipping a bottle of coke, her grey eyes lingering on Daenerys. “In a few years, she’s blossomed into a woman.”
Jon didn’t know what to say. He assumed his mother was alluding to his aunt’s personality rather than her body - but when those violet eyes sought his, he found it hard to focus on much else. His crotch itched. When he adjusted himself, he hoped it looked discreet. “What happened?” he asked.
“Moving away from here did her a world of good,” Lyanna spoke swiftly. Her fingernails clicked down the bottle as she continued in haste: “It’s no surprise, really - I sometimes look at you and wonder-” Her eyes met Jon’s, and she stopped herself.
Jon suckled on his inner cheek. He didn’t have to ask; the guilt on his mother’s face was obvious. Her whole life she’d spent playing what if. What if Rhaegar had never been married, what if they’d fled abroad with him as a babe, what if he hadn’t grown up like a Stark.
“Ned was always good to me,” Jon said. “I love my sisters.”
“Yes,” Lyanna breathed sharply, “you have been treated well - for most part.” Her gaze followed Catelyn as she walked past them. The women exchanged forced smiles. If Jon hadn’t known for a fact that it was July, he could’ve sworn that the air had turned chilly like in the middle of winter.
The moment Catelyn was out of sight, Lyanna whispered: “I swear she hates me.”
“She hates everyone,” Jon assured her with a laugh. “Did you hear the way she scolded Dany?”
“Family should stick together,” Lyanna mused. Then, suddenly, she grabbed the can of beer out of Jon’s hand and waved toward the pool. “You should go talk to her,” she said.
Jon blinked. “What, me? Now? Why?” he blurted flabbergasted. He could immediately feel his cheeks grow warm. As if seeking cover, he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes.
His mother gave him a stern look. “Because she’s family,” Lyanna said. To Jon, it sounded like another what if: would my son be less messed up if he was better acquainted with his dad’s side? Either way, Lyanna kept pinching his side until his skin ached and he jumped to his feet.
“Alright!” he sighed exasperated. “Alright.”
But as Jon approached the pool, he felt anything but alright. His heart was beating quickly. Sweat was dripping down his forehead. He couldn’t help but to push his chest out, making himself look taller and broader as he reached the edge of the water and glanced down at Daenerys.
“Hey,” he said, and she tipped her head back, her sunglasses slipping up her small nose as she greeted:
“Hi.”
Jon clenched his hands into fists, relaxed them, then clenched again. He felt he ought to say something, but no words were coming to him. So he stuttered: “Mum thought we should chat,” and immediately felt like a child sent off to the playground.
Instead of looking disturbed, Daenerys laughed. She turned in the pool to push her arms over the edge, her chin resting on her hands as she peeked up at him. “Does Lyanna run your Tinder too?”
Jon scowled: “I don’t have Tinder.”
“No?” Daenerys said and cocked her head to the side. She bashed her eyelashes innocently as she mused: “What a shame.”
Jon tugged at the collar of his tee. “Do you have one?” he asked.
“Everyone does,” Daenerys said and shrugged. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
“Do you get a lot?” Jon asked before quickly clarifying: “Dates, I mean. Get a lot of dates.” He feigned interest in his jeans. He was rolling them up, scrunching the denim around his knees before sinking his legs into the pool. As he settled on the edge, he sighed in relief at the feel of the cold water bashing against his heated skin.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Daenerys teased. She grabbed at the stone and pushed herself up, taking the seat next to Jon. He felt how her wet elbow brushed to his. He smelled the scent of peaches. When she leaned in, he could taste tequila on her breath: “I never expected you to grow up like this.”
Jon looked into Daenerys’ eyes. She had a beautiful face, he realised; her eyes were framed by sandy lashes, her nose small and rounded, her lips plump and pouty. “Like a meathead?” he joked.
Daenerys smiled and smacked her lips. “You clearly think highly of your gym sessions.” Still, Jon saw her gaze drop, and he tightened his abs the best he could manage.
Why am I trying to impress my aunt? he wondered, feeling slightly ashamed at his own behaviour. It was okay in the driveway before he knew of their relation. Now, with his mum watching his every move and Catelyn sure to be snooping around, he should be casual around her, perhaps friendly at most. He shouldn’t be fiddling with his hair, trying to make sure that his bun wasn’t coming undone, and licking his teeth for any sign of crumbs. She’s not a potential fuck.
All the same, Daenerys rolled her shoulders and lifted her chest up, allowing Jon to eye how her nipples were hardening behind the wet fabric. It was then, as his eyes lowered, that he noticed something. “Hey,” he said surprised, “those are the other dragons!” Sure enough - just below her breasts was a tattoo; two dragons bashing their way across her ribcage, their heads intertwined in the middle.
Daenerys looked down and smiled fondly. “I told you I have three,” she reminded him.
“The way you said it, I thought they were somewhere intimate.”
“More intimate than under my breasts?” Daenery said boldly.
Jon muttered: “I guess that’s pretty intimate,” and glanced down. He kicked his feet through the water, causing droplets to be thrown into the air.
“Do you have any?” Daenerys asked. “Any tattoos?”
“I’ve got a wolf,” Jon said and pulled up the sleeve of his tee. The head of a white direwolf growled back at them from his shoulder.
Daenerys nodded impressed. “Cool,” she said. “It suits you.”
“Because we look alike?” Jon jested and tried to pull a snarling face.
“Not everything’s a joke,” Daenerys said and rolled her eyes. “No, it suits you because it’s different. I’ve never seen a wolf like that.” Her fingertips stroked across the wolf’s red eyes. The mere moments made Jon’s spine shiver.
That’s right, he thought as he pulled his sleeve back down with a little smile, I feel more at ease with her than the Starks.
The day Jon left home, he felt guilty. When his brother Robb moved out, Arya’s heart had broken, but when Jon announced he was taking off for university, his little sister had been inconsolable for weeks. Even Sansa had wept, saying that nothing would ever be the same again, which was true; from then on, everything in Jon’s life changed. But it all seemed to be for the better. Without Catelyn’s mocking words keeping him on edge, he was able to breathe freely for the first time since birth, and whilst revelling in his newfound freedom, Jon hadn’t been keen to report home.
In fact, Jon thought and looked around them - there was Catelyn and Ned holding hands by the grill, and Rickon and Bran and Arya nestled together on a picnic blanket, and Rhaella was chatting with Lyanna over a large bottle of wine. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been back here for years.
It was as if Daenerys could read his mind. She too glanced about before sighing: “It’s weird being back.”
“It is,” Jon said. “It feels different.”
“You look different.”
“So do you,” he said and met her eyes. Something in her violet stirred. “What changed? You used to be-”
“-super depressed? I know.” Daenerys dragged a few wet locks out of her face and wrenched some water from them. “I got used to things just happening around me. Like I was watching a movie. It was actually my mum who finally snapped me out of it.” Her eyes flickered to Rhaella, and Jon followed her gaze.
He had always thought that his grandmother had a sad aura about her. Though no one ever spoke about it, it was understood that her many miscarriages had broken her spirit. When he was younger, Catelyn liked to allure to it as an excuse for her infrequent visits. “Your grandma doesn’t need to be around children,” she used to say whilst proudly watching her own roam around the garden. “It’s just cruel.”
But even then, though he didn’t fully comprehend her slight, he knew that she was wrong. Rhaella needed us more than ever, Jon thought and watched as his mum poured her another glass of merlot. But the Starks don’t collect broken things.
Daenerys continued quietly: “Mum said, The leaf that dies on the tree in autumn never sees where the summer wind could’ve brought it. So I packed up my stuff and left that same night.”
Jon looked back at Daenerys aghast. “That’s never how people say it happened,” but when Daenerys quirked her brows, he admitted, “though I guess that shouldn’t shock me.”
“The only one to bemoan my leaving was Viserys. Now he had no one to bully!”
“Where is Viserys, anyway?” Jon asked. “I swear I heard him mentioned.”
Daenerys shrugged and stretched. “Oh, probably raiding the wine cellar. He likes to sell things he finds online.”
“Things he steals, you mean?”
Daenerys shrugged again, and Jon decided not to press the issue further. He couldn’t care less if Viserys decided to smuggle Sansa’s porcelain figure collection to Essos. Right now, he just wanted time to stand still, and for him and Daenerys to chat themselves tired.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone was so open with him. As if she read his mind, Daenerys said: “I have no secrets.”
“Yet no one knows anything about you,” Jon said amused.
“That’s because no one ever asks.”
Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Ned’s deep voice roared louder than the 90th loop of Baby Shark: “Jon! Can you fetch some more beer?” He waved at him with a pair of tongs. “There should be some in the fridge.”
“Wine too, please!” Lyanna chirped.
Jon groaned, but he dutifully stood up. “Right away,” he said, giving Daenerys a sorry look.
“Don’t forget my coleslaw!” Catelyn said. Her head popped up from behind the grill. Her arms were swung around Rickon who struggled to get his hands on the plate of sausages. Judging by the grease on his lips, he’d already had his share. “You should all try my coleslaw.”
“I’ve only got two hands!” Jon exclaimed and waved them as proof. Catelyn’s lips pursed at once, and her cheeks filled with air, but before she could snap at him, Daenerys jumped to her feet.
“I’ll help!” she said.
As they strolled side by side to the sliding doors, Catelyn watched them with hesitation. “You get the coleslaw,” she said to Jon before he disappeared into the living room.
Jon kept quiet until he and Daenerys were well out of hearing range. “That’s the first time she’s ever trusted me more than someone else,” he said and looked at his aunt in surprise. “You must have really upset her.”
“She thinks I’m bad news,” Daenerys sighed, but she didn’t look bothered. She was letting her eyes roam the large living space with the oversized leather sofas and giant TV. The walls were plastered with family photos. Even Jon had made it onto a few of them. “She’s been like that ever since I turned down Robb.”
Jon couldn’t help but gawk. “Robb fancies you?”
“Used to, anyway,” Daenerys said. She furrowed her brows. “Didn’t you know?” As Jon slowly shook his head, she sucked in her lips in an awkward grimace. “Sorry.”
“When was this?”
“Years ago. Anyway, she took it as a personal offence.”
Jon thought of his brother - strong and handsome with his curly auburn hair and bright blue eyes. Catelyn had always adored him, more so when he followed in Ned’s footsteps and became a police officer. He could vividly imagine the rage she must have felt learning that her beloved child had not only fallen for a good-for-nothing Targaryen girl - but he’d also been rejected. Somehow, it made his stomach flutter, and he merely muttered: “That makes sense,” before letting the subject drop. He didn’t want to seem vengeful.
They walked down what seemed like an endless hallway. Daenerys stopped ever so often to peer into a room. There was the grand guest bathroom with a whirlpool tub, and Ned’s second office where every wall was painted blue and decorated with antlers, and the small nursery which was no longer used but kept tidy should the need ever arise.
“Where’s the private gym?” Daenerys joked, and when Jon replied:
“Upstairs in the back,” she looked at him like he was an alien.
“Do you ever get lost?”
“Not anymore,” Jon said and pointed to a door. “That’s the kitchen.”
The room was the size of Jon’s flat. From floor to ceiling, pale grey cabinets covered every inch of the walls, their shape cut meticulously to fit around a grand fridge, two ovens, and a range of appliances Jon didn’t even know the names of. In the middle, a kitchen island dominated, its marble surface pristine. Everything shined, and a smell of bleach lingered in the air. The only thing that differentiated the space from a showroom was the single unwashed mug of coffee sitting in the sink.
“Wow,” Daenerys gasped. She ran her fingers across the smooth counter, her nails tapping to the stone. “I feel like I just walked into a home catalogue.”
Jon chuckled. “Homely, isn’t it?” He followed close behind her, somewhat amused by the fascinated look on her face. “It’s Catelyn’s pride.”
“Just like her coleslaw?”
Jon grabbed at the fridge doors and swung them open. There, in a glass bowl the size of his head, sat the infamous coleslaw. It was with difficulty that he wrestled it out from in between the shelves, and he staggered backwards until Daenerys grabbed a hold of the other side of the bowl and brought it down onto the island. He eyed it with a huff. “It better be good.”
“It sure is big,” Daenerys said and tip-toed to look through the plastic wrapping.
“So you find size impressive?” Jon asked with a wry smile.
Daenerys’ eyes snapped up to meet his own. “Do you always hide behind a joke?” she asked.
Jon felt his smile falter. As she stared into her eyes, he wasn’t sure what to say - so he said nothing. He turned to the fridge and started pulling a few cans of beer into his arms, making sure to take his time to inspect each of them as if he was picking fruit at a supermarket.
“I’m sorry,” Daenerys said. He could hear her shuffle around behind him. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What way did you mean it?” Jon mumbled.
“You’ve always done that. Put up a facade, not let people in.”
“Can you blame me?” Jon asked. He was still facing the fridge, but his arms were so heavy with beer that he couldn’t grab any more. He could feel the cool metal through his shirt. Drops of condensation were making the fabric wet. “You were able to move halfway across the country. I couldn’t afford that sort of luxury.”
Daenerys scoffed: “You think leaving my mum was a luxury?” As he didn’t reply, she urged: “Look at me.”
Jon closed his eyes. He kicked the door of the fridge shut with his foot, turned on his heels, and took in a deep breath before he allowed himself to seek Daenerys’ gaze. She was leaning against the island, her feet just inches from his own. For some reason, he felt shy looking into her eyes.
“Please let it be different,” Daenerys said, and her voice was surprisingly clear.
Jon squeezed the beer tighter to his body. “Different?” he asked. He felt confused, but something in his chest was also starting to ache. It wasn’t a painful ache, it was one of longing. He tried to suppress it, but the look on his aunt’s face was making it difficult.
Daenerys’ lips tugged into a sad smile. “Five years, Jon. Haven’t you thought of me in all that time?”
Jon swallowed. He averted his eyes and instead focused on the tips of his toes, his feet bare and dirtied from the lawn. I have, he thought, constantly.
When Daenerys left, it was all that the people of Winterfell talked about for weeks. The rumours varied; some said she went to join Rhaegar in Essos. Others guessed she was trying to hide a pregnancy. Whatever the story, they all agreed that she was incredibly selfish - how else could she have left her aging mother behind?
For Jon, it had been the beginning of the end. He spent weeks angry at everything and everyone, but he couldn’t fully comprehend why. He just knew that he felt lonely. “I spent a long time,” Jon said slowly, still looking down, “just hoping you’d come back.”
“I had to find myself first,” Daenerys said.
“And did you?”
Daenerys cocked her head. Thick, wet locks of silver hair brushed across her shoulder. “I am happy,” she said. “Once you stop seeing the world through other people’s eyes, you realise how clear the path ahead is.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Jon said, and he meant it. When he looked back up at her, he smiled warmly. “You deserve it.”
“Look what it did to you,” Daenerys teased and patted at his stomach. Her fingertips lingered for a moment at his abs. “All grown up yourself. Did I inspire you to move out?”
“There was nothing left for me here,” Jon said without specifying. He sensed he didn’t need to - the glimmer in Daenerys’ eyes told him she understood.
“I hear you’re working as a mechanic?”
“Being a cop never was my thing,” Jon said wryly. “I wouldn’t suit the uniform.”
“I doubt that,” Daenerys said. Her hand was still at his abs, but now her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and gently twisted it around her tips. The movement forced him to step closer to her. A can of beer slipped from his grasp to the floor and rolled across the wood.
“Dany,” Jon said, and he could hear his voice was slightly strained. She was licking her lips now as she tugged him along, forcing him to trap her against the counter. “Dany, you’re happy,” he reminded her. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. I don’t want to be the cause of more complications.”
Daenerys laughed. “Complications are exciting,” she said, “besides - I said I was happy. Never said I couldn’t be happier.” She reached up with her other hand to stroke his cheek. The touch was so gentle it almost felt like a breeze against his skin. “All those times I came by,” she said in a whisper. Once more, Jon could taste the tequila on her breath. He wondered if it was the alcohol fuelling her along. “All those times I tried to get you to look at me, but you were too shy. No wonder Robb started thinking it was all a show for him.”
“Dany,” Jon said again. His arms were shivering. A few more cans dropped. “If you continue, I won’t be able to stop.” He felt as if his body was waking up from a slumber - pressed against her almost naked body, something deep inside of him was stirring.
All this time, I’ve kept myself suppressed, Jon thought, watching Daenerys’ lips as they parted in a light gasp, the tip of her small, pink tongue just visible. Am I going to break now?
Daenerys let go of his shirt as her hands pushed through his hair, his bun loosening as she dug into his black curls. “What makes you think,” she said, her voice sultry, “that I want you to stop?”
The cans banged to the floor as Jon carelessly let go of the beer, and his eager hands grabbed Daenerys by the waist as he pulled her into a kiss. His aunt’s lips were soft and wet, and when she moaned to his mouth, he felt his knees weaken.
Jon was overcome by an incredible urge to have all of her at once. His tongue sought her mouth; he pushed between her lips, licking up the last taste of bitter alcohol before revelling in the scent of her. When he nestled his nose closer, he could smell it on her face too; the scent from the pool, and the warm touch of sunlight, and it was in that moment that he realised:
I have never wanted anyone as much as I want Daenerys right now.
His aunt wriggled and gasped in his arms, her own hands grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pushed her tighter to the counter, deepening the kiss. Meanwhile, his hands were searching her sparsely clad body, intent on touching every inch of her. He tickled her taunt sides, brushed the bottom of his palm to the softness of her heavy breasts, dragged his fingertips across the rounding of her stomach until he could loop his thumbs beneath the strap of her bikini bottoms.
The air between them was growing damp. They barely broke to breathe. As Daenerys’ hands greedily pushed beneath his shirt, feeling every bump from his muscles working on keeping them close, he felt as if his nerves were on fire. His cock was hardening. The bulge in his jeans was becoming unbearable.
Still, it was the way in which her heartbeat quickened so much that it echoed in his own chest that made Jon realise that he had no urge to slow down. Nor did they have time to revel in such luxury as tenderness - Jon’s fingers had barely touched the rounding of her arse before Daenerys broke the kiss with a gasp.
“We have to be quick,” she said, her voice out of breath. “It can only take so long to get alcohol.”
“It’s a big house,” Jon reminded her, though he knew she was right. So without further ado, he pulled her up onto the kitchen counter, enjoying the surprised whine she let go of as her back flattened against the cold marble, and he allowed his hands to drag down across her quivering body.
She was soft, and wet, and warm. As he grabbed a hold of the line of her bikini bottoms and dragged the fabric aside to expose her pink cunt, he felt the air get stuck in his throat. Her tan was clearly natural - here, by her sex, her golden skin turned pale like snow, and Jon felt wonderfully dirty gaining such intimate access to his beautiful aunt. He keenly sunk a finger in between her labia and watched with awe as her pink cunt closed in around him, suckling him into her warm inners.
“Oh God,” Daenerys whispered. She let go of his shirt, her lips leaving his own with a pop. She rolled backwards down onto the island, her back pressing flat to the counter. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said, her violet eyes gazing at nothing.
“Do you want me to stop?” Jon asked, though he was already pushing a second finger into her. She was tight, he noted, and sopping. It couldn’t all be from the swim, because as he started moving the tips, brushing across her inside and feeling the hardness of her nub against his thumb, he could smell her - the smell of sex as her juices started coating his fingers, easing his fucking.
Daenerys weakly shook her head, letting go of a pant. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and her feet tugged him closer by the hip. “I said quick,” she reminded him, and Jon nodded:
“Right,” as he reached for his zipper with his other hand. He almost wished he’d brought a pair of swimming shorts himself, because clad in his normal clothes he was dripping with sweat, and watching his aunt squirming before him didn’t help keeping his heartbeat down. It was with urgency that he unzipped his jeans and reached down his pants, grabbing a hold of his already hard cock.
Jon’s hand closed tightly around the length of his member as he drew himself free of the fabric of his underwear. It felt good to no longer be constrained, and he groaned in pleasure as he gave himself a few short strokes whilst watching Daenerys - wet, wriggling, willing, her plump lips parted in a persistent moan, her eyes shut, her hair scattered across the countertop. Then, he withdrew his fingers, grabbed a hold of her waist, and simply dragged her toward him as he pushed himself inside of her in one long, steady movement.
Daenerys’ cunt clamped down around his cock with the same strength of her arms as she dragged him atop of her, her eyes fluttering open in surprise. “Oh fuck!” she gasped. Her legs shivered from the sudden invasion, and her breasts pushed against him as she forced in a deep breath of air. “Oh fuck!”
Jon too growled, burying his nose into the line of Daenerys’ neck as he gritted his teeth together with pleasure. She was tight, and warm, and soft - her insides worked around his fat length as she tried to adjust to the sudden intrusion, but if he worried he’d been too keen, he needed not to. The moment he lifted his head back up and looked into her eyes, her saw her violet gaze glimmering with desire, and when she begged:
“Please fuck me, Jon,” he couldn’t resist.
Jon’s hands flailed to Daenerys’ sides, and he used her as leverage to push himself up, his body hovering hers. Then, as his fingers dug into her soft skin, he started rocking into her. At first, his thrusts were slow, searching for a rhythm which was hard to find as everything in him was on fire. The muscles in his body were shivering, his cock was throbbing from the persistent warm suckling from Daenerys’ cunt, and his mind was trying to catch up to the fact that he was fucking his aunt.
But soon, as his panting grew and small moans started rolling off Daenerys’ lips, he found a pace. It was quick, and hard, and as his balls continuously slapped to her soft skin, he groaned: “How’s that?”
Daenerys gasped: “I’m feeling really full,” before teasingly adding, “nephew.”
It only served to make Jon fuck her quicker. His fingertips dug into her flesh as he jerked his hips, taking her with more need. Her soft inners were incredible around his cock, and he could feel how his balls were tightening, eager to fill her cunt with his seed. Every moan from Daenerys made his spine tingle, and he started dragging her closer and closer to the edge, as if he could rub himself deeper inside of her if he got the right angle.
His movements were making her body jerk back and forth across the slippery surface. He could only imagine what a wet mess they were creating in Catelyn’s favourite room. The thought of pissing her off made him even greedier, and he grabbed a hold of Daenerys’ legs and pushed her knees down toward her chest as he held her in place, claiming her cunt as his own.
“Oh God, Jon,” Daenerys moaned. Her head was lolling from side to side, her hands flailing across the counter as she searched for something close to hold on to. “Please don’t stop. Please!”
Jon held his breath and groaned as he felt himself dragged closer to relief. He couldn’t help it; it was the mix of how good she was feeling and how naughty what they were doing was. I am fucking my aunt, Jon thought, and those words seemed to spin around in his mind again and again. I am fucking my aunt. I am fucking my aunt. I am-
“Fuck!” Daenerys whined. A hollow sound filled the room. Jon opened his eyes just in time to see Daenerys’ fingertips desperately reaching for the bowl of coleslaw before it tipped off the counter and smashed against the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice too heavy with moaning to really sound apologetic. “I was trying to hold on-”
“Come here,” Jon said as he sunk down atop of her again. He grabbed her by the cheeks as he pulled her into a deep, wet kiss. Whatever Daenerys was trying to say got swallowed by his mouth as he rubbed himself onto her, her nub trapped against his jerking body.
That was all it took - as they gasped to each other’s lips, Daenerys’ cunt tightened around Jon’s cock in a shivering orgasm, and her body thrashed to his, her eyes opening in shock at the strength of her own coming. As pleasure rippled across her skin, Jon weakly pushed himself into her one last time as he too came, his cum filling her warm, wet insides.
For a hot minute, neither of them moved. As he tried to regain his breath, Jon remained inside of Daenerys, her body quivering beneath him. Her hands were softly brushing down his back, her nails getting stuck in bits of his shirt, and Jon’s lips were lazily dragging themselves across her cheek to her mouth, ending in a soft, wet kiss between them.
“That was amazing,” he mumbled to her lips, and Daenerys chuckled.
“I needed that five years ago,” she admitted.
Jon only slowly pulled away. As he tucked his cock back inside his underwear, he walked around the counter to get a look at the coleslaw. The shattered glass bowl was completely embedded in the food. “There’s no way to salvage that,” he said and wiped some sweat off his forehead. His heart was still beating quickly as if he’d run a marathon - but he felt amazing.
“Fuck,” Daenerys muttered. She dragged her bikini back in place, the bottoms making a wet sound as they closed around her cunt. She squeezed her legs together as she sat up, her feet dangling down from the counter, and she glanced back over her shoulder toward him. “I’ll make a new one,” she offered.
“She’ll notice.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try?”
As Daenerys started rummaging through the kitchen for the ingredients needed, Jon picked up the glass pieces while watching her shyly. It’s weird, he thought as she dragged out carrots and mayo and half a head of cabbage. I’ve just fucked her, and nothing feels different. I don’t even feel ashamed. He eyed the wet spot on the counter carefully. Daenerys’ nails had made a little mark on the side of the island. He tried to rub it smooth with his thumb.
“Jon?” Daenerys said.
Jon looked up and met Daenerys’ violet eyes. She seemed the same as she had when he met her hours earlier - she stood straight, proudly, her attitude confident. But something about the way she looked at him was different. “Yeah?” he said with hesitation.
“You know that thing I said about being happier?” she asked and waited for Jon to nod before continuing: “Well, I feel that now. Happier, I mean.” She quickly looked back at the cutting board in front of her and continued to slice up the carrots, but Jon could see a faint blush spread on her cheeks. It made his stomach flutter.
“You know,” he said, leaning onto the counter as he watched her work. “I feel it too. Happier.”
For a moment, their eyes met, and they both smiled. Then, Daenerys focused on the coleslaw, and Jon strolled out of the kitchen to grab some wine from the cellar.
“That is the best coleslaw you’ve ever made!” Ned praised Catelyn loudly.
The sky had darkened. For the last twenty minutes, Robb had continuously circled the grill to let everyone know that “now the charcoal is perfect for grilling - why doesn’t anyone ever wait?” But no one else seemed to care that the pork chops were slightly burned. In fact, Arya appeared to enjoy the blackened sausages, exclaiming that it tasted like proper home-cooking. Catelyn managed to avoid commenting on that one, but she did beam at Ned’s compliment.
“You think? It must have been the time it spent in the fridge,” she mused, watching the emptying bowl.
Jon and Daenerys were sharing a bottle of wine. It came courtesy of Viserys whom he’d caught halfway up the stairs, hauling three of the most expensive brands he could find. The lad had insisted that he was just “bringing wine for everyone”. Still Jon was not surprised to see that none of the other bottles had made a reappearance.
Lyanna grabbed her glass of wine and held it high up into the air. “I think we should cheer to my wonderful brother for hosting such a lovely meal.” She slowly added: “And his wife Catelyn, of course.”
“How about a cheers to family?” Daenerys suggested as she raised her own glass.
Whilst Jon blushed furiously, Rhaella beamed: “Yes, dear - to family!”
Everyone raised their glasses. Wine and beer and soda spilled everywhere as people struggled to make sure their drink clinked to everyone else’s. As Jon sipped his wine, he caught Daenerys warm eyes watching him, and he found himself smiling.
To family, he thought, and he reached below the table to give her hand a squeeze. And what a wonderful family it is.
.
.