elizabeth

He only shows it when the candles burn low in your shared chambers, long after the servants have gone. When the fire has softened to embers and the dragonglass flask of strongwine sits half-empty between you. That’s when his hand, the one that’s always clenched, always reaching for a sword or a goblet or a threat, loosens. And he lets you hold it.

In private, Aerion speaks quietly. As if the loudness he wears like armor might crack something fragile in him if he lets it out here. He won’t say “I love you” in public, he would whisper it to you in High Valyrian. “Avy jorrāelan.”

He’ll rest his forehead against yours and murmur, “You are the only thing I have not burned.”

He has nightmares, like all of his brothers do. Unlike theirs, about fallen dragons and fire, his is silence. Of waking up and finding you gone, or cold, or looking at him the way everyone else does: with fear. On those nights, he doesn’t demand comfort. He simply curls around you, one arm draped over your ribs like a dragon guarding a single egg, and breathes until the shaking stops.

And the softest thing? He lets you touch his hair. That silver-gold mane he keeps immaculate for the court, the one he threatens to have a maid beaten for simply breathing on—he’ll lay his head in your lap and close his eyes while you run your fingers through it.

When you scratch lightly behind his ear, a gesture you once joked made him look like a cat, he didn’t sneer. He almost chuckled.

He also remembers things. Not grand romantic gestures, those are for winning loyalty. But small things: the way you take your tea (honeyed, not spiced), the song you hum when you think no one is listening, the name of your childhood horse. He’ll drop these into conversation like secrets, offhand, just to watch your face soften.

And once, just once, after a nightmare so violent he threw a goblet at the wall and shattered it, he let you see him cry. Hot streaks down his cheeks while he gripped your sleeves and mumbled about the damn nightmares. Wildfire…his skin burning…your look of horror.

Later, he built the fire back up, wiped his face, and became Aerion again. But before he left the room, he paused at the door. “If you ever leave… take the knife from my bedside. You’ll need it.”

And you knew: that was his way of saying “Don’t let me hurt you. Kill me first”

That’s the Aerion no one else will ever meet.

His breath came in short gasps as he looked up at you, he reached up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"I do... I want everything," he whispered hoarsely. "But I've never... I'm not sure how..."

He gestured vaguely to his body, uncertainty and self-consciousness written across his features. As a bastard, he'd always felt like less than a man. And now, faced with the prospect of making love to you, his inexperience loomed large.

"But with you..." he said softly, conviction creeping into his tone. "I want to try.."

“It’s okay…” you immediately caressed his curls softly, making him follow your touch like a needy puppy. “I’ll talk you through it. Tell me what you want to do”

His hands trembled slightly as he began to undo the laces of your dress, fingers clumsy with anticipation.

"I want to see you" he murmured, peeling the fabric aside to reveal the swell of your breasts encased in delicate lace. His gaze drank in the sight, pupils dilating with arousal.

Slowly, reverently, he trailed a finger along the valley between your breasts, feeling the warmth of your skin. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to the hollow of your throat, inhaling your scent.

"I want to taste you" he said, looking up at you. “Please?” Did that mean he wanted to kiss you all over your body? No one had never asked you before.

“Of course you can Jon”

His eyes widened at your permission, he swallowed hard, nodding fervently. You took his hands and placed them in your thighs, pulling your own dress up your hips.

He breathed, hands gripping your thighs as he guided them apart. The sight of your bare, glistening cunt made his mouth water. Was that a common thing among the high lords? Probably not. Did he want to do it so badly? Yes.

With a shaky hand, he pushed your folds open, exposing your most intimate flesh to his gaze. He leaned, diving his head between your thighs as you layed back in his bed. He inhaled deeply, savoring your heady aroma before leaning in to run his tongue along your slick slit.

“Jon..what are you..?”

"Mmmm..." he groaned, the flavor of your essence exploding on his taste buds. He delved deeper, lapping at your clit and probing your entrance with the tip of his tongue, losing himself in the velvety heat of your cunt. Thanks to Robb and Theon for telling him about the small button that ‘makes the ladies scream’ because so it did.

Encouraged by your moans, Jon increased the pace of his tongue's movements, flicking rapidly against your sensitive clit while thrusting it inside your welcoming depths. He could feel you trembling beneath him, hear your ragged breathing. He started grinding his hips so hard against the bed that he was moaning in your cunt.

Wanting to give you even more pleasure—and being so pussydrunk—he slid a finger alongside his tongue, gently circling your entrance before pushing it inside you. He curled it slightly, again, thank Robb and Theon for that one.

"You’re so beautiful" he urged, nipping lightly at your thigh as he continued his ministrations. His free hand reached up to fondle your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers as he savored your sweet flavors.

“Gods~ Jon!”

The sound of your climax sent a thrill through him, spurring him on as he devoured your quivering sex. He lapped at your juices greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you finally collapsed back onto the bed, panting and spent.

Still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, Jon slowly withdrew his tongue and finger, licking them clean of your essence. He crawled up your body, pressing tender kisses along your inner thighs, hips, and stomach.

“Jon where did you learn that”

He chuckled, kissing your tummy softly.

“Just err…some things my brothers told me”

"You're incredible” you whispered, reaching his lips to claim a deep kiss. His hardness throbbed against you, begging for release, but he held back, savoring the moment.

"I want to be inside you, please" he confessed, breaking the kiss to look into your eyes. "please, please can i?"

“Aww Jon… do you think i would’ve let you do these things if i didn’t want you inside me?”

He whimpered at your words and overwhelmed with the emotion, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss again, pouring all his love and longing into it. As you broke apart, he positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your entrance.

"I love you” he whispered fiercely, his eyes searching yours for permission and reassurance. "Please tell me if this is okay."

You nodded, nervous yourself for what was about to happen. But Jon, with the same nervous smile, made you calm.

With a gentle push, he slowly sank into your warmth, savoring each delicious inch as he filled you completely. He paused when he was fully sheathed, waiting for your permission to continue.

"Yer’ s’perfect my lady” he breathed, then began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained before sliding back in. You felt so good around him. So hot and tight for him, it felt a thousand times better than when he felt you grind on top of him.

You felt the sly burn in your insides, adjusting to his length was harder than you expected.

“Mmm Jon…wait..”

Jon's brow furrowed with concern at your words, fearing he might be hurting you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his beautiful lady. He stilled his movements, hovering over you with a worried expression.

"Are you alright? Am I hurting you?" he asked softly, his hands coming up to cradle your face tenderly. "M’so sorry my lady. We don't have to continue."

Despite the ache in his loins—and cock—urging him to keep moving, he held back, focusing solely on your wellbeing.

"Please talk to me, m’lady.“

After a few seconds of adjusting to his size, you gently nipped his arm. “You can move now Jon”

Relieved that you were okay, Jon smiled softly at you, his gray eyes were shining with tenderness and barely restrained passion. He began to move again, starting with shallow thrusts to allow your body to accommodate his size.

"You feel so good, m’lady ” he murmured, his sounds coming out like whimpers.

One hand slid under your knee, lifting your leg higher to change the angle of penetration. The new position allowed him to reach even deeper, grazing that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust.

"Gods I can’t…" he breathed, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue danced with yours sensually as he continued his rhythm, the wet—and obscene—sounds of your coupling filling the room.

“Jon…m’gonna—Gods”

Feeling you tense and quiver beneath him, Jon redoubled his efforts, thrusting deeper and faster as he sensed your impending climax. Your walls were squeezing him so heavenly some tears rolled down his precious eyes.

"M’… m’lady! " he urged, sweat beaded on his brow as he chased his own release, determined to make this moment perfect. Make him believe he deserved it. He deserved you.

Suddenly, he felt your walls clamp down around him, fluttering wildly as your orgasm crashed over you.

He cried out, burying his face in your neck as his own peak hit. He pulled back immediately, jerking himself off in your tummy. His hips jerked erratically as he spilled himself in you.

“M’so sorry…” he breathed hard, cheeks in an intense shade of red. “I’ll clean you my lady..”

You stopped him, wanting to savor the moment with him for a few seconds. He collapsed beside you, pulling you close and tucking your head under his chin. He pressed soft kisses to your hair.

"I can’t believe you let me do that" he murmured, "Thank you, Gods, thank you."

He ran a gentle hand down your side, marveling at the softness of your skin.

“I’m not a religious man, lady Catelyn never let me in the sept… but if there are Gods up there, they definitely blessed me with you”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling.

“Jon….i love you too”

He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head, your cheeks, your lips. All so tenderly that made you forget the fact he could never be your husband. Not while he was a man of the Night’s Watch.

“Can we…can we do that again?”