Work Text:
The storm hit the day after the Queen arrived at the Wall. They stayed inside, travelled through the fort by underground tunnels. Hundreds of feet of snow piled aboveground, massive drifts that spelled death for anyone caught outside. Even the windows at the highest point of the King's Tower were snow-white, completely covered.
This was Jon's first winter at the Wall, truly the first winter he really remembered. His first winter as a man. The men of the Night's Watch were used to the biting cold, staying underground for days, used to dry meats and salted beets.
The Queen's men were not.
Daenerys Targaryen had flown down when they plead for aid, her army had followed. She was intelligent and beautiful, a true leader, fearsome on the back of her black dragon. Aegon the Conqueror reborn.
So, as they dined in his study, wine flushing both of their cheeks, Jon could not help but admire this woman. She was a queen, regal, poised. Yet she was a girl, one who laughed at his poor attempts at humor and bit her lip when she smiled.
She kissed him first. The wine made him slow, his hands reached to her waist to push her away and instead he found himself tugging her closer, pulling her onto his lap. One hand tangled in her silver braids, tugging them loose, the tinkling of bells filled the room.
Her lips were soft against his, her hands caressed his face tenderly, her tongue danced with his.
"I found you," she whispered against his lips, "The shadow man from my dreams."
Jon didn't know what she meant by that but the way she pushed her hips down against his had his questions flying from his mind, all good blood rushed south. He broke from her lips, moved to her neck, laved his tongue against her pulse. She tasted like honey and sweetness.
Her hands were fumbling with the ties on his shirt, pulling at the knots as tiny pants and moans fell from her lips.
Soon after, his shirt was on the floor and she was sitting up, running her hands over the scars on his chest. There was no pity in her gaze, only fascination and admiration. She dragged her nails down his stomach, teasing the taut muscle there.
He gripped her waist and stood, walking a few feet to his desk. Jon didn't bother clearing it before seeing her down amidst the piles of records and texts.
Daenerys gave him a nod and he dropped to his knees, pushed her skirt up and pulled down her underthings. The stuck to her for a second. She was dripping.
"Fuck," Jon swore running a finger through her folds. He licked her juices off, she was sweet and a little tangy. Utterly delicious.
He dived in, licking through her folds up to the top, finding the nub there. Wrapping his lips around it, Jon let out a satisfied moan when she shrieked. It sent fire straight to his cock. Jon drove two fingers in and out of her, curling them up in tandem with sucking on her nub. Daenerys was moaning and shaking above him, thighs clutched tightly against his head, rocking her hips against his face.
Then she shattered.
Her eyes were glassy when Jon looked at her again, blown wide and black. She grabbed him by the hair and plunged her tongue into his mouth.
Hands fumbled at his trousers, soft and small around his cock. Daenerys stroked it once, twice, before leading it to get sopping wet entrance.
Jon groaned as he pushed into her, she was warm and wet and so perfectly tight around him. He gripped her hips and set a fast pace, pounding in and out of her. Her nails scratched down his back, he tore moans from her throat.
He tugged down the top of her dress, watched her breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. Jon bent down and sucked a nipple in his mouth, caressing it with his tongue, pinching and tugging the other one with his fingers. Daenerys was so vocal, breathy sighs poured from her with every ministration.
Stepping away from her, Jon pulled her off the desk and flipped her over, skirt flipped up, buttocks bare in the firelight, silver hair cascading down her back.
He entered her with one smooth thrust, setting another punishing pace. "Feels so good," he sighed in her hair. "So tight."
Fire pooled in his belly, his balls tightened. Jon reached around, fingers rubbing Daenerys' nub until she shuddered and squeezed around him again. With a few final thrusts, Jon pulled out and spoiled himself in his hand.
Daenerys turned, eyes still glassy, a dopey grin on her face. She ran her hands softly through his hair before leading her lips against his.