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They sit in front of each other across a table, a prolonged silence hanging between them. Finally, Tormund scoffs.
“The day I ask my people to fight with the Crows is the day my people cut my guts from my belly and make me eat them.” He looks at Jon stoically, but his eyes are sharp. The boy has been getting on his nerves, but he must admit, his resolve and attitude towards his people, towards him, is admirable. So is the man himself, and Tormund finds himself thinking about him way more often than he should. The Crows chose the boy to be their commander, winning by one vote, but still winning. The boy is what, twenty one? That’s twelve years younger than him and they already made him their leader.
“And how many of your people can't fight? The women, the children, the old, the sick-- what happens to them?” Jon gets up to stand over him, his expression grim but also so defiant, so very challenging. “You're condemning them to death,” he continues. Tormund brittles at that, annoyed.“Worse than death because you're too proud to make peace,” Jon spits angrily. “Or maybe you're not proud... Maybe you're just a coward,” he barks, but looks like he instantly regrets it.
“Careful, boy…” Tormund’s nostrils flare and he slowly rises to his full, towering height, and Jon's breath hitches just barely. The smaller man visibly flushes and bites his lower lip while taking a step back when he takes one forward. Is... Is he aroused? Tormund’s thoughts are racing. His eyes move lower and sure enough, there is a bulge in the boy's pants. He can feel himself getting hot at the sight.
To say that he isn’t attracted to the newly minted Lord Commander would be a lie. Jon has shown courage bordering on insanity many times. He’s small, but so bold and strong. And with those long curls, dark as night, long eyelashes, and those pouty lips, he’s prettier than most women he’s seen. His cock twitches.
Tormund takes a step forward and crowds the smaller man against a wall. He raises his bound hands and grips Jon's chin in one, observing his reaction, and when the boy just barely presses into his hand, he moves to breathe into his ear.
“Easy thing to say to a man in chains,” he purrs, and Jon whimpers softly. Frantic eyes search his face until they steel and focus. Suddenly, there is a smaller hand grabbing his and a click of a key echoes in a room. The tension that follows is so thick, Tormund feels like he’s choking on it.
Jon lets go off his hand and his eyes widen as he massages his sore wrists. The boy is about to say something, but it dies in his throat when Tormund presses his knee between the Crow's thighs, feeling how hard he is for him.
“Tormund...” he says weakly, trying to hide a moan, his eyes dark and blown when he gazes up, trying to read the Wildling’s expression.
“Listen, pretty face,” Tormund growls, cupping his chin again. “Your cock is hard as a rock against my knee. I know you want me and I want you, but say a word and I’ll let you go and we’ll forget it ever happened.” Jon's eyes are wild and he reminds Tormund of a cornered animal.
But this animal is no prey, it’s a wolf. And then the brat is smirking and rolling his hips against his leg.
“Seems like our negotiations can wait, Wildling.” His voice is dark, daring.
Tormund’s aching in his breeches at just how damn bold Jon is. The months spent with them beyond the Wall must have awakened The Wild inside the boy, he understands now. He may be a Crow, but deep inside he is and always will be a Wildling, just like them. Jon will never be able to be one of the stuck up southern lords.
“Tell me what you want, Snow,” he murmurs, softly grabbing his wrists, pinning them on either side of his head, and pressing him steadily to the wall. Jon lets him, heavy-lidded eyes looking at him so defiantly. Then Tormund lightly grazes his ear with his teeth, drawing a low moan from the younger man.
“You,” comes a small, light gasp from Jon. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Giantsbane, but never thought you’d be- ahh interested,” he groans.
The fire in his gut is blazing. He’s always been attracted to strong people and gender never really mattered to him. Tormund hums and removes his knee, rolling his hips into Jon’s instead and making them both groan. “Does it seem to you like I’m not interested, Little Commander Crow?”
Jon looks at him, the light in his eyes so vivid that something in his gut scorches. And then Jon licks and bites his plush lower lip and Tormund has to taste it. He nudges his chin up and covers his lips ever so lightly, testing Jon’s reaction. And oh gods his lips are so soft. Jon moans into the kiss and, to Tormund’s delight, tries to deepen it, while whimpering softly against him.
And who is he to deny him when he’s acting so sweetly?
Just then, Jon pushes away from the wall and bites down on his lip sharply, punching a loud moan from Tormund, the pain shooting straight to his already aching cock. Jon’s tongue finds its way to his mouth, and his hands into his hair, tugging, pulling, and Tormund can’t breathe. He’s so aroused. Jon’s wilder and stronger than he ever expected the normally calm and quiet man to be.
And he can’t get enough of it.
Their kiss leaves them breathless, completely cutting them off from their surroundings. Jon’s all teeth, tongue, and needy desperate noises. Tormund’s so lost in the clash of their teeth that he doesn’t notice Jon’s been moving them till his calves hit the Crow’s bed. A moment later and he’s on his back, small Crow straddling his lap. Tormund grabs his round ass, moaning through the kiss at how plump and firm it is, even through the clothes.
When they part for breath, the air is thick, so thick. “Need to see you. Let me see you.” Jon’s voice is so ragged. His black curls are even wilder than normal, slick with sweat, lips bloody and swollen, eyes fierce like his wolf’s. Tormund wants him so badly.
“Only fair if I see you,” he pants back, smirking.
They start to shrug off their clothes and stop to look at each other. Tormund’s breath hitches; he never saw Jon without his furs when he lived with them, and the tight armour he wears now really hides the curves of his body. He’s smaller than him and lean, but his chest and arms are wired with hard muscles. That, and multiple scars obviously marking him as a formidable warrior. Then he looks at Jon’s face and the boy is staring at him in awe.
“Like what you see?” he teases. But Jon’s serious when he replies.
“Fuck yes…” He leans over his broad chest and latches on to Tormund’s nipple. “You’re so gorgeous, fuck.”
He grabs a handful of black curls and pulls, making Jon arch his back deliciously. His other hand goes to palm Jon’s hard cock through his breeches and he smirks. Another pleasant surprise, he hums, marvelling at the smaller man’s size. Nowhere near as big as him, but bigger than he expected. Jon moans and his hot mouth leaves his swollen nipples.
Then he grabs Jon’s hips and, with a surprised yelp, Jon’s flipped underneath him.
“Stay,” Tormund all but growls, and to his surprise, he does. Jon stills, panting underneath him, and he looks so, so needy. Tormund wants to see him wrecked, wants to see him completely ruined and gone. He puts his palm to the boy’s throat and lets it rest there, not squeezing, just letting the smaller man feel it. Jon wets his lips and rolls his head to the side, baring his throat to him with a mischievous smirk.
He moves his hand lower, fingers ghosting lightly over the Crow’s pecs and abs until they find the lacing of his breeches. Seconds later and Jon’s lying completely nude in front of him, panting lightly and grasping the sheets with his fingers. Tormund’s hand leaves his throat and he sheds the rest of his own clothes.
Jon’s gaze is dark and hungry when he looks at him and it lingers on his length. His breathing hitches and Tormund snickers.
“Do you like my cock?” He palms himself for the effect and Jon’s breathing hard, but he looks up boldly.
“Aye, I do.”
“Such a greedy thing you are, Lord Commander,” he teases as he moves over him again. “You’re so hard and leaking all over yourself.” He grabs Jon’s wet cock and pumps him slowly, eliciting a shaking moan from the man. Tormund leans over him. “You want to be manhandled? Is that it, Snow?”
“Fuck,” he moans arching into his hand. “Tormund, please.”
“Please what?” Tormund arches his brow. He has a good idea what Jon wants, but he needs to hear the smaller man say it.
“Let me suck you.”
Tormund’s eyes widen. That’s not what he expected, but fuck. The very idea of those pouty lips around him… If possible, he gets even harder.
If the Crow really wants to, he has no reason to stop him.
He lets go of Jon and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well, get on with it. You really love to kneel in front of me, don’t you?” he teases him.
Jon scoffs. “I don’t kneel to just anyone, Wildling,” he bites back and moves in between his legs, lopsided grin gracing his lips. “And here I thought you were just boasting, but damn you are big.” He takes him in his smaller hand carefully, as if testing the weight of it, and gives him a light stroke. “I’ve always wondered…” he starts, and his tongue ghosts over the glistening head.
“Always wondered how you would feel. Always wanted to feel your hands on me…” Jon presses the hot pulsing cock to his cheek and inhales his scent deeply. The sight is so filthy and erotic that Tormund can’t help a shuddering moan. His cock is twitching in the smaller man’s hand and leaking over his cheek. The dark smile Jon sends him is so fierce that he wants to claim him. “Always wondered how you would taste in my mouth.” He pumps his cock slowly and uses his other hand to wipe the leaked pre-cum from his cheek. Tormund observes him, stunned. He’s not going to… And then Jon’s licking his wet fingers and moaning at the taste.
“Fuck,” Tormund growls darkly, and he grabs those black locks sharply, earning a keening moan from Jon, before leaning over and crushing their lips together in a wild clash on teeth. He can taste himself on Jon’s tongue and they both groan, Jon’s hand not stopping his slow strokes. When they finally part for air, he’s met with eyes so dark with lust they’re practically black. Tormund has known the man is wild deep down, but this? He can’t get enough of him. The fire burning inside of him seems to only get hotter with each shared gesture, each shared look.
“Why don’t you taste more of it, Little Crow?” he all but growls, his throat tight.
Again Jon keens at the name and that’s when he realises that this boy must crave praise and a strong hand. “Do you want this? Do you like it when I call you my Little Crow, Lord Commander?” His hand still in Jon’s hair, he pulls him down so his bobbing cock is in front of him again.
“Suck,” he growls, and Jon mewls quietly at the command. The boy gives him one more look and, without breaking eye contact, wraps his full lips around the head of his cock. Tormund’s thoughts turn to mush.
His hands tighten in Jon’s hair and he groans at the wet heat of the man’s mouth. “That’s it, just like that,” he says, observing Jon’s reaction, and just like he thought, the Lord Commander keens against his cock, eyes closing in rapture.
Tormund wants to see the brat wrecked.
The boy’s so good to him, his soft tongue running up and down his cock buried inside the man’s mouth. He bobs his head, sucking softly on his head, and Tormund can’t help but moan at the sensation.
“You’re doing so well; you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”
Jon mewls softly and tries to take him deeper, his hand leaving Tormund’s thigh to palm himself, but Tormund yanks the boy off his cock then, a startled yelp leaving the swollen lips.
“Who told you you could touch yourself, boy?” he warns, a bit breathlessly.
Jon looks at him pleadingly but doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves his hand up to massage soft circles into Tormund’s thigh and starts stroking the cock in front of him again. When he envelopes him in his mouth again, this time he doesn’t stop and takes him deep into his throat. Something inside Tormund’s gut snaps and he can’t help himself from bucking his hips sharply, burrowing his cock deep inside Jon’s hot mouth.
The Crow chokes and gags, eyes shooting open, but not accusingly. Tears are running down his cheeks, but he tries to take even more of the length down his throat, making Tormund hum.
“You’re such a cock slut, Lord Commander. Never would I think that you’d be such a hungry, needy thing,” he murmurs lowly as he starts fucking Jon’s mouth with fast movements of his hips. The boy lets out a broken moan against him but lets him slide down his throat, gagging less and less. Jon’s looking at him with dark, wet eyes, pleading, silently begging to be used, and Tormund can feel his orgasm approaching. Never has any woman or man made him fall apart so quickly, he thinks, panting hard. But he doesn’t want to come just yet. He needs to see this boy go to pieces.
“Enough.”
Jon looks like he’s about to protest, but obediently lets his cock go, a string of saliva still connecting his mouth to it. He sits back on his heels, still on his knees in front of Tormund, a small puddle of precum underneath his hard, red cock.
“Wanted to taste you for so long,” he lets out a rugged breath. “But I’d like to feel you, too.”
The sight of the boy on his knees looking so wrecked is doing things to him Tormund can’t even name.
“Move back on the bed,” he throws out simply, getting up to reach for the oil he eyed on Jon’s desk earlier. Jon complies and lays himself down on his back, his hand palming himself. The boy makes such a hot, erotic sight that Tormund has to stop to admire him. Muscles glistening with sweat in the light of the fire, dishevelled black curls framing his face like a halo. He truly is gorgeous.
“You’re touching yourself again.”
“So?” comes a cheeky response.
Instead of replying, Tormund sets the oil flagon by the bed and settles in-between Jon’s spread legs. He swats his hand away and replaces it with his own.
“Thought you wanted to be good for me?”
He pumps it and the red swollen cock starts leaking over his fingers instantly. Jon’s only reaction is a loud shuddering moan.
Tormund’s hand stops and he growls. “Answer me, boy.”
“Aye- ahh.” Tormund chuckles lightly and moves back from the bed. At Jon’s confused look, he smirks and yanks him closer to the edge of the bed. “What-”
Jon gives him a somewhat confused look when Tormund lowers himself, smiling darkly at him. Then his tongue traces over the tight ring of muscles and the Crow’s breath hitches and his thighs tremble. Tormund sends him an amused look.
Jon’s head rolls back, panting, and he’s whimpering softly. His hard cock is leaking all over his belly. The boy’s hands move and grab at his hair, pulling him even closer.
“So desperate,” he chuckles against his flesh and wiggles his tongue inside of him. He’s rewarded with a wild keen and sharp pull on his hair.
“Fuck, Tor, it feels so good,” Jon moans.
“Tor? I like that, Little Crow.” His hands massage Jon’s strong thigh while he’s licking into him. Jon keeps shuddering and moaning helplessly. Then there is a thick finger slicked with oil sliding slowly alongside his tongue and the Crow stills and gasps sharply.
“Yes, fuck.”
“You like that? You like to be filled, Snow?” he purrs lowly, his finger working Jon’s hole ever so slowly.
“Fuck. I’ve never tried.” That makes him stop, surprised.
“It’s your first time with a man?”
“It’s my first time ever,” the Commander whispers after a moment.
“What?” He stills his hand, searching Jon’s face.
“I’m a member of The Nights Watch. I can take no wife nor father a child.” he replies after a moment, face flushed.
“But a big, savage Wildling man is fine?” Tormund teases and adds another finger, making Jon shudder and keen softly at the feeling of being stretched.
“Yes, fuck. You’re killing me.” Jon grabs at the sheets, his toes curling.
“Mmm... Just you wait,” he smirks at him and he moves his hand to splay over Jon’s hard abs. Letting the man’s thighs stay on his broad shoulders, Tormund spreads his fingers and starts stretching him. When he adds the third finger, he watches the boy’s face for any sign of discomfort, but he seems relaxed against him, whimpering and panting lightly.
But Jon’s way too collected for his liking. He smiles darkly and curls his fingers, hitting Jon’s sweet spot hard. The scream that all but punches from Jon is music to his ears. Then he notices a puddle of white on the man’s belly and he lets out an impressed chuckle. Jon’s eyes are rolled up and he’s panting, lying slack against his shoulders.
“Can’t lie, Jon, never have I made a man come so fast,” he growls, aching so painfully at the sight. The sounds he makes when he comes… fuck.
“What… what was that?” Jon gasps after a long moment, trying to collect himself and visibly failing.
“Your sweet spot, little thing,” he chuckles, putting Jon’s trembling legs down. The boy’s whole body is trembling and he’s panting heavily. When he opens his eyes, Tormund smirks at the hunger in them. Not only hasn’t it disappeared, but it seems to be blazing even stronger.
“Don’t you- don’t you dare stop now.” Heavy lidded eyes gaze up. Fierce. Challenging.
“Greedy little bastard,” he smirks back.
“Don’t call me a-” Jon hisses, but he’s interrupted when a pair of strong hands flip him so he’s lying on his belly, his oversensitive cock trapped underneath him. The sheer sight of him is breath-taking. Jon’s ass is round and plush, rounder than most of the women’s he’s seen, and definitely better than any partner he’s ever been with. Tormund notices three red, still healing scars on his back and backside and hums, knowing their origin. Jon’s slim, elegant back is laid with hard-worked muscles shifting deliciously when he rises on his elbows and sends him a dark look.
“Damn, Lord Commander,” he huffs, using his title mockingly. “I’m surprised there isn’t a line of Crows begging to fuck you with an ass like that.” He grabs his pale flesh and it’s soft and firm against his big hand. Jon presses up against him and tries to stifle a moan at the praise. “You’re so needy, boy. You can’t wait to have me inside, can you? Want my big, hard cock, Snow?” he purrs.
“Think you know me so well, Giantsbane?”
“I think I do.” He climbs on top of him and runs his teeth over the junction of Jon’s neck making the man tremble in anticipation. Then he bites down hard and Jon screams, just like he thought he would. The sound of pain is mixed with pleasure. “So the little boy likes some pain?” he asks lowly, dangerously. He’s seen people crave pain mixed with pleasure, but never with such hunger.
“Fuck. No. I-” Jon starts but gets interrupted by sharp teeth digging into his shoulder again. A low, rolling moan escapes him and he sobs softly.
Tormund goes lower, kissing, sucking, and biting tight, spasming muscles, feeling them shift underneath his hands with every moan and groan his actions draw from the younger man.
“You can lie to yourself all you want, boy. But during the months you spent with us, the wild crept into your heart and made a home there. Look at you, shamelessly craving to be taken and used. You crave a strong hand, not a soft touch of a southron woman, is that it? You think that your proper lords would act like this?” He grabs his trembling shoulders and flips him around to see the boy’s face.
Jon’s eyes are wide, the hunger in them so wild and strong, his lower lip bitten so strongly it’s bleeding. Tormund surges and claims his mouth again, sucking at the swollen lip and licking the blood from it.
When they part, Jon sighs softly, trying to collect himself. “Are you going to finally fuck me, or are you going to bore me to death with your talking?” the little shit barks at him.
A grin slowly spreads on Tormund’s face. He grabs the seemingly forgotten oil and slicks himself, moaning loudly when his palm finally makes contact with his painful erection.
“You ready, little Crow?” he grabs the smaller man by his hips and drags him closer.
“Will you shut up and fuck me finally?” Jon growls at him, sweaty locks sticking to his face and his upper lip twitching in a snarl when he wraps his slim legs around Tormund’s hips, urging him on.
“That’s my wild thing,” he hums and pushes in slowly, moaning uncontrollably at the hot, tight heat, observing Jon’s reaction.
Jon, whose eyes are shut, is breathing heavily, trying to adjust to the feeling of him.
“Crow, look at me. Am I hurting you?” he murmurs softly. He may be a savage man, but he doesn’t want to bring unnecessary pain to his lover.
Jon’s eyes shoot open and they’re wet, the need blazing strongly in them. “Move,” he orders through a groan and tightens his legs around Tormund’s hips.
Tormund pulls out a bit and rolls his hips slowly, getting deeper and deeper. He’s massive and he knows he needs to work his way in slowly, no matter how much he wants to just slam into the whimpering mess of a Crow beneath him. “You’re doing so well, you’re so good for me,” he murmurs and captures Jon’s lips in a deep and wet kiss, trying to ease the pain for the boy.
Jon melts into the kiss, his muscles going slack, and after a few slow thrusts Tormund bottoms out inside of him. “Look at you, little wild thing,” he purrs into the man’s ears, making him shudder despite already being so full. “You took my giant cock all inside. That’s a feat not many have achieved.” He highlights his words with a sharper thrust and the mewl Jon lets out drives him wild.
“Fuck, fuck. Tor, please,” Jon sobs, rolling his head back and baring his throat to him. The throat that he soon covers in nips and bites which he then soothes with his tongue, undeniably marking the Lord Commander for everyone to see, he thinks, smirking against the swollen skin.
“Please what, Snow?” He raises his head to look him in the face. But, he thinks, Jon must have finally broken as a loud whine comes from him and he sobs out.
“Just move, please, I need to feel it. Make me- ah. Fill me, please.”
His cock twitches inside the man at the way he’s so wrecked that he’s started to beg him.
Something inside of him snaps and he grabs the smaller man’s hips, forcing his legs to unwrap from his waist and move to his shoulders instead. Then he all but pounds into him and the scream that punches out of Jon is so full of need, it makes him piston faster inside the small man. Jon looks so desperate, so ruined like this, his voice going hoarse from all the screams, shouts, groans, and moans Tormund is forcing out of him.
Jon’s cock is fully hard again and leaking. Through the haze, Tormund wonders if he can manage to make Jon come again untouched.
He’s sure he can.
He grabs Jon’s hands and pins them by the sides of the wrecked man’s head. The look that he sends Tormund is pure sex. He wants to have it imprinted inside of his mind until he dies. Tormund runs his hand over Jon’s chest and pinches ones of his hard nipples, making him squeak loudly. He chuckles.
“You’re a gorgeous thing; you know that, Lord Commander? You look so wild and depraved. It suits you,” he teases, alternating his thrusts to long and deep ones, making Jon groan lowly.
“Just imagine if your men saw you now,” he murmurs and moans at how Jon squirms at the humiliating words. “Imagine them seeing their Commander falling apart under a Wildling,” he continues.
“Fuck.”
“Does it make you hot, Jon?” he asks and starts thrusting harder, starting to look for that spot inside him again. He’s close himself now, but he wants to make Jon come first.
“I’ve already told you, I’ve wanted you, Tormund.” Jon hisses at him. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“You’re so easy to rile up, Crow,” he chuckles and rams his length into Jon’s prostate. He’s glad that Jon’s quarters are far away from the rest of the Crows because he’s sure that the scream he just drew from Jon would alarm the guards. He smiles smugly and starts hitting the spot harder, using his weight to pin the man down as Jon’s started to squirm and thrash, his shouts becoming one ongoing moan now. At this point he’ll soon go completely hoarse, Tormund muses to himself. But he has to admire that Jon’s lasting way longer now, the onslaught on his prostate turning him into a sweaty mess of limbs.
“Come on. Come. You can do it. Come for me, sweet Little Crow.” He punctuates each word with a strong, deep thrust.
“I’m. I’m about to- ahhh-!” His voice cracks as he comes. Hot seed hits both their stomachs, but Tormund keeps on fucking him deep into the furs, chasing his own orgasm. He’s so close, and with how Jon’s quivering around him he’ll be done so soon.
When he finally does, he comes so hard that his arms give out and it’s only at the last second that he moves to the side, rolling them, instead of crushing the smaller man with his much larger body.
He closes his eyes and needs several deep breaths to come down from the high inflicted by his orgasm. He pulls his softening cock from the Crow delicately, observing the smaller man’s face. Jon’s so gone that he’s wondering if the smaller man is about to pass out, but when Jon’s eyes open, they’re lighter, the hunger in them well sated. The Crow smiles at him weakly and something inside of Tormund’s chest swells. Something not connected to the desire. He doesn’t know if he should chase it or be afraid of it.
“So about those negotiations…” Jon starts, his smile still weak, but also mischievous, and Tormund thinks then, he’s definitely going to chase this feeling. He roles them so Jon is on top of him again, cups Jon’s messy locks, and lightly kisses the man’s abused lips.
“Hush, Crow. We’ll talk about that tomorrow when our minds are sober.”
“Bold of you to assume that I will let us be sober,” Jon answers against his lips.
“I have a feeling that you’re the one who is the wilder of the two of us, Snow.”
“Maybe. Maybe we’ll find out,” comes the answering whisper.