neither seen nor heard

She enters the den and takes a seat in an armchair to the right of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. She opens her phone, ignoring Rickon's friend Lucas checking her out, because ew, and checks the message Jeyne had sent her.

Jeyne: are you free for breakfast tomorrow?

Sansa smiles.

Sansa: yes!

Sansa: but can we do lunch?? i'm taking Rickon &co to Robb's game tonight 🙄

Jeyne: sounds good 2 me!

Sansa looks back up at the TV in time to watch whoever is playing die.

"Alright guys, get your stuff and lets go!" She says as she stands, putting her phone in her back pocket.

The boys groan and complain but shut down the gaming console and turn off the TV. Sansa herds the three of them toward the front door, coaching them into their coats.

"Shotgun!" Lucas yells as they push out the front door.

Rickon gasps.

"What?! No way! It's my sister's car!"

"Rickon sits up front," Sansa breaks in before they can argue about it.

Lucas glowers at Rickon then turns a pout on Sansa. Sansa just arches an unimpressed brow at him.

He sighs.

"Where's your scarf, Cody?" Sansa asks the third boy before she locks the door behind them.

Cody shrugs.

"Didn't bring one."

Sansa sighs and nods her head.

"Okay."

She lets the boys lead the way to the car, unlocking and remote starting it from a distance so the heat is running as they clamber in. She slips into the driver's seat and picks a playlist on her phone then pulls up directions to the arena's parking lot before setting it in it's cradle on the dash. There's some grumbling from Rickon about the music, but Sansa pretends she doesn't hear him, humming under her breath as they get underway.

She receives a few texts during the drive, but ignores them.

"Sansa," Lucas starts, leaning forward against his seatbelt to put his hands on the back of her seat, "do you have a boyfriend? Rickon said you have a boyfriend, but—"

"I do," she says immediately.

His little crush would be cute if he wasn't fourteen and way too self-confident.

He scowls and sits back in his seat.

"What's his name?" He asks, frowning.

Sansa sighs.

"Jon."

"How old is he?"

Sansa arches a brow, watching the road.

"Are you interrogating me about my love life?" She asks, mildly amused.

Lucas just shrugs.

"I'm curious."

"He's twenty-nine."

Lucas wrinkles his nose.

"That's way too old."

Sansa laughs.

Lucas perks up.

"What does he do?"

"Dude, cool it." Rickon bites out, turning in his seat to glare at Lucas.

Lucas rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm just asking questions," he grumbles.

Sansa suppresses a smile.

"You can 'just ask questions' about something other than my love life," she says.

Lucas grumbles to himself, but settles.

The boys talk among themselves for the rest of the drive and Sansa sings quietly to herself until the car's in park.

"Everybody ready?" She chirps.

A chorus of "yeah"s.

They walk the ten minutes to the arena in the cold, heads ducked against the wind. They spend an hour from standing in line to getting to their seats, kitted out in Direwolves's gear. Lucas tries to grab the seat beside Sansa, but Rickon is quick to thwart him with narrowed eyes, taking the seat and staring his friend down until Lucas sits on his right, Sansa on his left.

Sansa does her best not to show her amusement.

She spends the time before the game on her phone while the boys chatter excitedly among themselves.

Sansa: good luck! kick dragon ass!

Jon: :-)

Jon: have fun at robb's game

Sansa peeks over at the kids then back to her phone.

Sansa: i think rickon's friend has a crush on me lol

Jon: have i got competition?

Sansa rolls her eyes, smiling to herself.

Sansa: he's 14

Jon: tell the squirt to back off

Sansa laughs out loud.

Sansa: i'll be sure to let him know u see him as a threat

Jon: [a gif of someone pointing two fingers at their eyes then at the camera in an 'I'm watching you' gesture]

Sansa's cheeks hurt from smiling. She shakes her head.

Sansa: you're ridiculous

Sansa: who showed you how to find gifs?

Jon: i'm not completely hopeless with tech

Jon: . . .pyp

Jon: gtg have fun

Sansa puts her phone in her jacket pocket, looking down at the ice in time to watch Robb be announced as a starter.

She cheers as loudly as she can.

It's a fast-paced game and they keep the penalties to a minimum. Robb gets an assist on the game winning goal and Sansa puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out a piercing when the buzzer goes, ending the game in a Direwolves' victory. The boys start to stand, but she stops them with a gesture.

"We'll wait until it empties out more — Robb's meeting us for dinner."

The kids light up at that, sitting obediently even with their fidgeting. They spend the next few minutes excitedly dissecting the game while Sansa checks her phone. She pulls up the Night's Watch v. Dragon's game on the WHL app to see if it's over and winces when she sees it's gone to overtime.

Jon hates overtime.

But it's better than losing.

She switches to Instagram and pulls up the camera. She turns a bit in her seat so the boys are in frame.

"Guys!" She calls and they all turn to face her as one.

Rickon sees the camera and groans, rolling his eyes, but the other two grin dutifully. Sansa arches a brow at Rickon through the lense until he smiles too then snaps a quick picture, posting it in her main feed.

They wait until the arena is nearly empty before they leave, meandering through the concourses.

Robb: I'll meet you at brownie's

Robb: get us a table

Robb: please

Sansa sends a thumbs up in response.

"Alright guys, who's hungry?"

Rickon and co shout their answers.

*

Sansa's phone sits at her elbow on the table while she eats her grilled chicken salad, Rickon to her left in the booth. Lucas and cody sit across from them, Robb in a chair they pulled up at the end. Robb is entertaining the boys, regaling them with stories about what it's like to be a professional hockey player while Sansa sits and listens with a smile.

Her phone rings on the table, Jon's face on the screen. All eyes turn to her and she flips the phone over and silences it with a click of a button, heart racing as she gauges Robb's reaction. He just arches a brow at her.

"That Jon?" He asks.

She feels her cheeks warm. She rolls her eyes, sliding her phone off the table and into her jacket pocket.

"Maybe."

She turns back to her salad, but catches Rickon looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She turns toward him a little and he's gaping at her, wide-eyed.

"Was that—?"

Sansa's eyes go wide. She narrows them.

"No," She says shortly.

Rickon presses his lips together, mutinous.

"Rickon," she pleads.

Robb watches this exchange with instense scrutiny, his gaze flicking between them.

"You saw his face," Robb accuses, pointing a finger at Rickon, "you recognize him."

Rickon opens his mouth.

Sansa pleads with her eyes.

"I didn't see anything," he says.

Robb huffs, sitting back in his chair.

"You and Arya are so annoying," he grumbles, "I can't believe you're on her side."

Rickon rolls his eyes.

"You're gonna be so annoying when we finally meet him," he mutters.

Robb squints at him menacingly then rolls his eyes, relaxing his shoulders.

"Whatever," he says, sighing, "I trust Sansa."

Sansa knows her expression is skeptical, but she can't help it.

"What?" Robb demands when he catches her looking at him, "I do!"

"Okay."

Robb huffs and turns back to his plate.

*

Back at the Stark house, the boys are in Rickon's room getting ready for bed when Sansa stops to knock on his door. He pulls it open in his pajamas, arching a brow at her.

"What?" he asks.

Sansa snorts.

"So polite," she grumbles.

Rickon rolls his eyes. He waits.

Sansa sighs.

"Thanks for not telling Robb," she says quietly.

Rickon shrugs.

"I didn't want him to make a scene."

Sansa sighs through her nose.

"I don't know how to tell him."

Rickon holds his hands up in front of his body.

"Well, don't look at me for help."

Sansa huffs, rolling her eyes. She reaches out and ruffles his hair.

"Goodnight, Rick."

He scowls at her, running his fingers through his mussed hair.

"Night," he mutters.

*

Sansa: you still up?

Jon: unfortunately

Sansa: Kraken tomorrow, right?

Jon: yep

Sansa: call?

Her phone starts ringing in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweet girl."

Sansa smiles to herself. She rolls over onto her stomach in her bed.

"Sorry I didn't answer earlier — I was at dinner with Robb and the kids."

"Ah, dinner with my rival, huh?" Jon teases.

Sansa rolls her eyes.

"You hardly see Robb as a rival."

"I meant Rickon's little friend."

Sansa barks a laugh.

"You're so annoying," she mutters.

"Ah, but you like me," Jon says.

Sansa can hear his smile.

"Gods help me — I do."

Sansa rolls onto her side. She puts the phone on speaker and lays it on the pillow by her head.

"How was the game?" she asks.

Jon groans.

"My right side is one big bruise," he complains.

"That bad?"

A moment later her phone starts ringing with an incoming video call request. She accepts, happy to see Jon's face. He's laying shirtless in his hotel bed and doesn't say a word before angling the camera so she can see his mottle blue and purple torso. She gasps.

"Jon!"

He points the camera back at his face, shrugging.

"Looks worse than it is."

"Do you have any arnica gel?"

He looks around the room idly, shrugging again.

"Somewhere."

Sansa rolls her eyes.

"Who hit you?"

"Targaryen."

Sansa huffs.

"That guy's an asshole."

Jon grimaces.

"Yeah," a beat, "Robb won?"

Sansa smiles.

"Yeah, he's thrilled. He got two assists."

"I saw some of the highlights — he's getting better and better."

"I'm sure he'd be secretly pleased to hear that from you," Sansa teases.

A smirk twitches across Jon's lips.

"He'll get one past me eventually. He hasn't even finished out his ELC."

"He's impatient," Sansa shrugs, "He wants to be the best."

"I'm sure he'll get there if he keeps working hard."

"Yeah."

"Anyway," Jon covers a yawn with his hand, "What're your plans for Sunday?"

"Do you need to go to bed?"

Jon shakes his head.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

Sansa narrows her eyes at him, but lets it go.

"I'm getting lunch with Jeyne."

"Ah, she was in King's Landing, wasn't she? The brunette?"

"Yep! I haven't seen her since, so it's time."

"That sounds nice."

"I'm looking forwad to it."

"What're you doing Wednesday?"

Sansa blinks.

"Wednesday?"

Jon considers her.

"Wednesday, Thursday."

"Jon."

"You're busy?"

Sansa purses her lips, eyes narrowed.

"You can't fly me out every week," she says.

"Why not?"

Sansa opens her mouth. She closes it.

"I want to see you," Jon says quietly, "you're going to find a job eventually and then we're gonna be fucked for the rest of the season — I'd like to see you as much as I can until then."

Sansa's expression softens.

"I want to see you too," she sighs. She chews her bottom lip, "I'll come."

Jon brightens.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sansa smiles, "Yeah, definitely."

"Wish I could kiss you now."

Sansa laughs. She puckers her lips at the camera and says, "Mwah!"

It makes Jon laugh, eyes crinkled. He blows a kiss at the phone screen.

"You'll come as often as I can get you here?" He asks.

"I—" Sansa studies his hopeful expression, her own desire to agree. Her parents probably won't like it, but—, "yes."

Jon grins.

*

Early Wednesday morning Sansa stands bleary-eyed outside Jon's front door. She'd talked him out of picking her up from the small Castle Black airport again — insisting he's too recognizable to be at the airport every week without getting caught.

She frowns at the front door, rubbing her hands together. She knocks again. When he still doesn't come let her in she pulls out her phone to call him. He doesn't pick up, but he does open the door, wild-eyed, flushed, while she listens to it ring.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he rushes out, pulling her into the warm house, "how long were you standing there?"

"Not long," she assures him while he rubs her arms briskly to warm her up.

She smiles at him, leaning forward to kiss him. He kisses her back fervently, sleep warm and mussed. He slides his hands up her arms to cup her face and she smiles against his lips. They pull apart, grinning at each other.

"Hi," Jon says, voice rumbling in the space between them.

"Hi," Sansa echoes, eyes crinkling at the corners.

He pulls her into another kiss before releasing her.

"C'mon," he says, tangling their fingers together and leading her further into the house. He rubs absently at his tired eyes, "I have something for you."

Sansa makes a curious noise, dropping her bag over the back of the couch as they pass it, letting Jon tow her into the kitchen. He snatches a small envelope off the kitchen island, letting go of her hand and spinning to face her. He looks nervous, swallowing hard.

Sansa tilts her head, a little furrow in her brow.

"What is it?" She asks.

Jon holds the little envelope out and she takes it, weighing it in her hand.

It's light.

She opens the flap and tips it in her hand and a house key spills out into her palm.

She sucks in a sharp breath, gaze flicking up to meet Jon's anxious gaze.

"Jon."

He clears his throat.

"This way you're not stuck out in the cold waiting for me to unlock the door."

She clenches her fist around the key, feeling it's teeth biting into the skin of her palm.

"Jon, I can't—"

"Because you don't want to?" He asks quietly, "or because you feel like you shouldn't?"

Sansa bites her bottom lip, pulling her closed fist to her chest, over her heart.

"We're moving really fast," she says, gaze darting between his eyes.

Jon swallows hard.

"Yes," he allows, "but it feels right to me. I—" he takes a deep breath and blows it out slow, "Sansa."

"Jon," she says quietly, eyes a little wide.

"You don't have to accept it," he tells her softly, "but I want you here as often as you're able. I want you here all the time. I know it's crazy, but—"

"I never want to go home!" Sansa blurts, flushing.

Jon's eyes crease at the corners, a soft smile curling his lips. He cups her cheek, thumb swiping across her tender under-eye.

"I'd never kick you out."

Sansa licks her lips, swallowing hard.

"I can't—" she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, "I can't just move up here after knowing you like a month and a half."

"Why not?"

His expression is so earnest it makes her heart ache.

"Jon."

"It's an open offer," he says, "keep the key. Come when you want."

"I'll be here all the time," she tells him, studying his face, "you'll get sick of me."

Jon shakes his head.

"Nothing makes me happier than the idea of coming home after a long day and finding you here."

"Even after a loss?"

"Especially after a loss."

Sansa reaches her empty hand out to clutch at his t-shirt, tugging him closer.

"Really?"

"Sansa."

Her gaze flicks between his eyes, measuring his sincerity.

"I'll keep the key."

Jon's expression breaks open, a smile splitting his face.

He kisses her.

*

Sansa braces her hands on Jon's shoulders and slowly lowers herself into his lap, gasping as his cock breaches her. She bites her lip, lashes fluttering as she sinks down on him. His hands are hot on her hips, gripping her tight. He groans low in his throat.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Sansa lets out a shuddering breath as she settles fully in his lap, pussy stretched and full, the head of Jon's cock crushed against her cervix. She whimpers and sighs. She burrows her face in his neck, arms loose around his shoulders, breathing him in. He wraps his arms around her waist, chin hooked over her shoulder.

A Jeopardy re-run plays on the TV.

Jon strokes Sansa's bare back, broad palm skating warm along her spine. She's naked in his arms, nipples chafing against his t-shirt. He can feel them hard and tight against his chest. He licks his lips and does his best to ignore it, ignore her, hot and tight and wet around his cock. He sucks in a measured breath through his nose and tries to focus on the television.

The longer she sits, the wetter she gets and Jon has to bite the inside of his cheek, broad palm hot on her back, trying to ignore the feeling of her warm slick dripping down to his balls and soaking his pubic hair. She shifts in his lap and lets out a trembling sigh, breath warm against Jon's neck.

"How long?" she asks, whispering in his ear.

Jon's lashes flutter.

"The rest of the episode."

Sansa whines, pressing her teeth to his neck.

Jon's lips quirk up in a smirk. He kisses her shoulder.

"You can be patient," he tells her, low voice rumbling through her, "you're such a good girl, such a sweet girl for me, Sansa, warming my cock with your sweet cunt."

She shudders against him.

He runs his palm down to cup her ass, under her to slide two fingers against the place where her pussy stretches taut around his girth. He closes his eyes, rubbing at her slick taint. He drags his damp fingers across her puckered asshole and she stiffens against him, breath caught in her throat. He rubs it lightly.

"Has anyone ever fucked you here?" He asks, cock twitching inside her.

She shakes her head.

"Hm," he grunts, pressing lightly against her hole, "I bet you'd look pretty with both holes stuffed, Sansa."

"I'm not really interested in threesomes," she says stiffly.

Jon tightens his arms around her.

"That is not what I'm suggesting," Jon says firmly. He pulls back to look at her face, gaze flickering between her eyes, "I don't like sharing," a beat, "you're mine."

Sansa's cunt tightens involuntarily around him at the words. She lets out a shaky breath, watching his face.

"Then what do you mean?"

"A toy," Jon says easily, shrugging, "if you wanted to try it."

Sansa chews her bottom lip, shifting around in his lap. Her lashes flutter at the feel of his cock pressing against her walls.

"I don't know," she says, a little breathless, "I've never thought about it before."

"It's up to you," Jon tells her.

She tilts her head.

"You want to fuck my ass?"

He shakes his head.

"I love getting to fuck your pussy and come inside you too much to give it up even once — I want to put a plug in your ass and have you wear it all day so you do nothing but think of me until I get home. It's like this—" he squeezes her thighs, "like you warming my cock, keeping you on edge all day so you're wet and desperate for me as soon as you see me."

Sansa's heart beats hard in her chest. She licks her lips.

"I'm always wet and desperate for you," she breathes.

Jon groans.

"I know you are."

Sansa swallows hard.

"Can you—? Now?"

"What?"

"Put a finger in me," she tells him, "I want—" her throat bobs, "I want to feel you in all of me: your cock in my cunt, finger in my ass, tongue in my mouth. I want— Jon."

She grinds down against him, moaning. He groans. He reaches between her legs where she's soaking him and wets his fingers in her slick. He reaches behind her, hesitating.

"You're sure?"

"Jon."

The tip of his finger presses against her asshole and she holds her breath.

"Breathe," Jon murmurs, kissing her jaw.

She nods and forces herself to relax, toes curling as he presses the tip of his middle finger inside her ass.

It feels strange, foreign. She presses her forehead to the crook of his neck, breathing slow and even. He moves his other hand between her legs, thumbing at her clit as he pushes his finger deeper inside her and she moans, circling her hips.

"Good?" He asks when his finger is pressed as deep inside as he can go.

"Oh, Jon I—" she whimpers, "fuck, fuck you're everywhere. I can feel you; it's—"

She starts circling her hips without thinking, grabbing his face with both hands to bring their lips together. Jon licks into her mouth, stroking her tongue with his own and starts slowly thrusting his finger shallowly in her ass while she rides him, a slow grind of her hips against his cock.

Eventually she has to pull out of the kiss, tossing her head back, tears stinging at her eyes, overwhelmed.

Jon wraps his lips around one of her hard nipples, sucking and biting at it, and Sansa moans, threading her fingers through his hair.

"Oh Gods," she whimpers, "Jon. I want—"

"What do you want, baby?"

"Want your cock—"

"You've got it, sweetheart—"

"My mouth— Jon, I want you to fill my mouth too, want you everywhere, wish you had another cock just to fuck my throat while you fuck my ass and my cunt."

"Oh my Gods, Sansa, fuck." Jon squeezes his eyes closed, close to coming just from her words. He drags the hand on her clit up her stomach to her neck, long fingers at her throat.

"Oh! Oh, gods, Jon yes," she moans, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.

He squeezes and her eyes roll back her head as she shudders on top of him, coming hard on his cock. Her whole body clenches and his lap is flooded with a clear fluid, soaking his skin when she squirts. His cock twitches inside her tight cunt and halts the movement of his finger inside her. His grip on her neck loosens but doesn't disappear.

"Okay?" He asks quietly and she nods, breathing shallow.

They sit for a few moments before she shifts against him, lifting off his cock. He slowly pulls his finger out of her and she whines when he lets go of her neck, standing in front of him on shaky legs while he watches, hard cock glistening with her slick, mouth slightly agape. She turns her back to him and slowly climbs to her knees and bends forward, pressing her chest to the coffee table, over-sensitive pussy on display.

"Sansa. . ." Jon breathes, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it tightly.

She whimpers, wiggling her hips at him.

"Take what you want from me, Jon."

He swallows hard, sliding off the couch to kneel behind her. He uses his clean hand to guide his cock to her slit and slowly presses into her engorged pussy, moaning at how tight she is post-orgasm. He groans, starting slow but picking up the pace as he snaps his hips into her.

She whimpers and whines, hands flat against the coffee table, taking it.

"Jon," she moans, "Jon, oh Jon, yes, gods, want you to use me. Fuck me like your human fleshlight, whenever you want Jon. I'm so easy for you— want to wake up with your cock already inside me, want you to fill me with your cum while I'm sleeping and the only evidence is your semen leaking out of me when I wake up. I want—fuck— I want to be yours; every hole, every time you so much as think about coming I want it to be inside me. I—I—oh fuck—"

"Sansa," Jon groans behind her, fucking her harder with every filthy word that leaves her mouth, "Gods, I want you all the time. Don't fucking say it if you don't mean it, Sansa, 'cause I'd fuck you every minute of every day, keep you full of my cum and make sure you're always aching from taking me."

Sansa moans.

Sweat drips from the tip of Jon's nose to the back of Sansa's neck. He groans, licking it from her skin.

She clenches her pussy tight around his cock, locking him inside her, and he comes with a low groan, biting at her shoulder. He pants against the back of her neck, arms wrapped around her. He kisses her skin and noses at the nape of her neck.

"Okay?" He murmurs.

"Yeah," Sansa pants, eyes closed, "you always give it to me so good."

"yeah?"

Sansa nods weakly.

"You make me feel good."

Jon kisses her nape, her shoulder. He slowly pulls out, soothing a palm down her spine when she whines. He pushes himself up, back onto the couch. He tucks his cock back into his sweats and takes a moment to admire the view: Sansa bare naked and bent over the coffee table, his cum dribbling out of her cunt.

He licks his lips and reaches out, fingers brushing across her ass cheek, her swollen slit. He fingers his cum back inside her and she gasps, tensing.

"Too much," she complains, pussy fluttering around his fingers.

Jon hums, pressing his fingers deeper, massaging his semen into her soft cervix.

"I think you like it," he says, "you said I can do what I want with you."

"Yes," Sansa moans, hips twitching.

"Touch your clit, baby," Jon says, "I want you to come again. Come on my fingers."

Sansa whines, but does as she's told, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit while Jon plays with her cervix. His touch is gentle, light. He closes his eyes and tries not to think too hard about what he's doing, massaging semen into the entrance of her womb.

His spent cock twitches at the thought and he lets out a quiet moan, feeling Sansa tighten up around his fingers as she comes with a cry. He pulls his fingers out of her and drags her up into his lap. She curls into him, shaking and panting, her breath hot on his neck. He wraps his arms tight around her, kissing every bit of her he can reach.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, "sweet girl, beautiful girl, Gods, Sansa, I—" Jon swallows his next words with a gulp, "you did so well, precious girl. Perfect."

she sighs into his skin, settling in his arms, eyes closed.

"Thank you, Jon," she says softly.