asoiaf/got ficlet: first light
One more ficlet, written for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cinnatart's Kiss Meme. Originally posted here.
First Light
Jon Snow/Ygritte | adult | ~700 words
Jon wakes slowly, Ygritte's head pillowed on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest. He slides his hand over her hip, pushing it under her rabbit-skin vest, and he buries his face in her hair, her bright curls rusted to a dull, muddy brown in the poor light. He's hard again, has been every morning since she started sharing his furs, since he found out what it feels like to be inside her.
Dawn is barely breaking behind the jagged mountains in the distance, the sky still empty and colorless, and the wildling camp is silent and cold.
He rubs his hand over the front of his breeches, considers taking care of it before Ygritte wakes, before he ends up betraying his vows again, but she suddenly stirs against him, sliding her hand down to curve over his and pressing her wet, open mouth to his jaw.
"Jon Snow," she murmurs, her voice heavy, hoarse with sleep, "are you trying t' start without me?"
"I didn't want to wake you," Jon says, his breath catching as she hides a kiss behind his ear.
"I wouldn't have minded." She shifts until she's on top of him, straddling him, rolling her hips in a way that makes him gasp. "You know nothing."
She kisses him, laughing into his mouth, her tongue brushing his and her hands in his hair, and he can't help the noise he makes, can't help catching her hips, his fingers digging a little too hard as he guides her to where he wants her, where the friction is sweetest, heat twisting over his skin as she rubs against him, as he arches up to meet her. She drags her mouth over his jaw, hot and open and wet, and she hisses his name into his ear, warm breath and slick tongue and her teeth nipping his skin.
Jon rolls her underneath him, his hands clumsy as he tugs at her laces, and he dips his fingers inside her, where everything is hot and slippery and wet, a compromise to the vows still heavy on his shoulders, but she's twisting under him, gasping and pushing up to meet the slow thrust of his hand, and his cock is rubbing against her hip, a desperate liquid heat curling in his gut, and when she pulls him from breeches he doesn't argue, just pushes inside her with a groan and sucks a bright red mark into the soft curve of her neck.
"There, there, oh... oh, yes," she says, her mouth against his, "harder now, yes."
"Gods," he says, his eyes closed because he's still too unpracticed, because she's beautiful like this, and if he looks now he'll spend before she's even started. "I... I can't."
"Here, sweet, I'll show you," she murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to his jaw, "I'll show you."
She catches his hand and slips it between her legs, pushing his fingers over a spot that makes her breath hitch and her thighs shake. I am the sword in the darkness, he thinks suddenly, but she's hot and tight around him, has her hand under his shirt and her tongue in his mouth. I am the watcher on the walls. She arches underneath him, her fingers in his hair and her teeth at his neck, and he thrusts into her harder, faster, because she's whispering his name again, telling him how good he feels inside her.
He spends before she's finished, unable to stop himself, and his face heats at her soft, teasing laugh, but then she kisses him and nudges at the hand he still has hidden between her legs, and he slides his fingers inside her again, rubbing his thumb in slow, slippery circles until she gasps and shakes apart.
"You're learning, Jon Snow," she says, breathlessly, her skin warm and her cheeks flushed pink. "You're learning."
cinnatart's Kiss Meme. Originally posted here. First Light
Jon Snow/Ygritte | adult | ~700 words
Jon wakes slowly, Ygritte's head pillowed on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest. He slides his hand over her hip, pushing it under her rabbit-skin vest, and he buries his face in her hair, her bright curls rusted to a dull, muddy brown in the poor light. He's hard again, has been every morning since she started sharing his furs, since he found out what it feels like to be inside her.
Dawn is barely breaking behind the jagged mountains in the distance, the sky still empty and colorless, and the wildling camp is silent and cold.
He rubs his hand over the front of his breeches, considers taking care of it before Ygritte wakes, before he ends up betraying his vows again, but she suddenly stirs against him, sliding her hand down to curve over his and pressing her wet, open mouth to his jaw.
"Jon Snow," she murmurs, her voice heavy, hoarse with sleep, "are you trying t' start without me?"
"I didn't want to wake you," Jon says, his breath catching as she hides a kiss behind his ear.
"I wouldn't have minded." She shifts until she's on top of him, straddling him, rolling her hips in a way that makes him gasp. "You know nothing."
She kisses him, laughing into his mouth, her tongue brushing his and her hands in his hair, and he can't help the noise he makes, can't help catching her hips, his fingers digging a little too hard as he guides her to where he wants her, where the friction is sweetest, heat twisting over his skin as she rubs against him, as he arches up to meet her. She drags her mouth over his jaw, hot and open and wet, and she hisses his name into his ear, warm breath and slick tongue and her teeth nipping his skin.
Jon rolls her underneath him, his hands clumsy as he tugs at her laces, and he dips his fingers inside her, where everything is hot and slippery and wet, a compromise to the vows still heavy on his shoulders, but she's twisting under him, gasping and pushing up to meet the slow thrust of his hand, and his cock is rubbing against her hip, a desperate liquid heat curling in his gut, and when she pulls him from breeches he doesn't argue, just pushes inside her with a groan and sucks a bright red mark into the soft curve of her neck.
"There, there, oh... oh, yes," she says, her mouth against his, "harder now, yes."
"Gods," he says, his eyes closed because he's still too unpracticed, because she's beautiful like this, and if he looks now he'll spend before she's even started. "I... I can't."
"Here, sweet, I'll show you," she murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to his jaw, "I'll show you."
She catches his hand and slips it between her legs, pushing his fingers over a spot that makes her breath hitch and her thighs shake. I am the sword in the darkness, he thinks suddenly, but she's hot and tight around him, has her hand under his shirt and her tongue in his mouth. I am the watcher on the walls. She arches underneath him, her fingers in his hair and her teeth at his neck, and he thrusts into her harder, faster, because she's whispering his name again, telling him how good he feels inside her.
He spends before she's finished, unable to stop himself, and his face heats at her soft, teasing laugh, but then she kisses him and nudges at the hand he still has hidden between her legs, and he slides his fingers inside her again, rubbing his thumb in slow, slippery circles until she gasps and shakes apart.
"You're learning, Jon Snow," she says, breathlessly, her skin warm and her cheeks flushed pink. "You're learning."