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Sansa looked at the crack in the ceiling as Jon rutted against her. She’d thought about getting it fixed many times but had decided it was a good focal point at times like this.
Jon grunted above her and then seemed to slow his rutting; that was different. Ususally he picked up his pace as the act progressed.
Sansa peeled her eyes from the crack and saw his face hovering above hers. It didn’t look pleased. He was still rock hard inside her, his body joined to hers in the most intimate of ways.
“Can’t you pretend you enjoy it in the slightest?” Jon asked as he looked at her quizzically.
“I’m a lady, Jon,” Sansa said as she knitted her eyebrows together.
Jon rolled off of her and lay on his back next to her, his cock still hard and glistening in the torch light.
“What?” Sansa asked as she rolled toward him and rested her head on her bent elbow.
“Do you know how degrading it is to fuck…”
“You know I hate that word,” Sansa interrupted.
“To fuck your wife and not even be looked at? Desired? Even acknowledged?” Jon asked, putting emphasis on the word she hated.
“Jon, I’m just trying to make it quick for you,” Sansa said, defensively.
“Can we at least pretend we like each other?” Jon asked.
“I do like you,” Sansa said defensively.
“And I you,” Jon sighed.
And that was completely the truth. They were great friends, wonderful partners and good to each other. It may have been akward to be married to each other at first, but they had mostly found their way.
“Then can we at least pretend we chose each other?” Jon asked.
“But we didn’t,” Sansa acknowledged.
“I do realize that, Sansa,” Jon huffed. “But you are the one who requested the second child. I was happy with just Hugh.”
“So now this is my fault?” Sansa asked, sitting up in bed and allowing her dress to fall back down over her knees.
“I’m not saying it is,” Jon sighed. His cock was completely soft now.
“Do you want me to act like one of your whores?” Sansa asked.
“Whores?” Jon asked surprised. “I promised you on our wedding day I would be with only you and I’ve kept that promise. Who are these whores you speak of?”
“All the women that ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over everything you do. The women that offer themselves up to you like a prized cooked goose,” Sansa yelled.
“I do not partake in those meals,” Jon groaned. “But I’d like to enjoy bedding the only woman I will ever bed again. ”
Sansa thought about what he said for a moment.
“I won’t behave like a tart, but I’ll try to not hate it so much,” Sansa said as she met his eyes.
“That’s all I ask of you,” Jon sighed as he sat up and reached for his robe.
“Where are you…?”
“I am unable to compete the act, so I thought I’d retire to my rooms. We’ll try again in two days,” Jon informed her.
“But…” Sansa began.
Jon turned and looked at her confused. She hated everything about the act, why would she protest when she was relieved of it?
“Sansa, I can’t put a babe in you tonight,” Jon said, thinking that was the issue.
“I know,” Sansa said unsure.
Jon knitted his eyebrows together. She always seemed happy to see him leave in the morning, almost bothered that he dared share her bed on the nights they coupled. And here she was bothered that the act was complete, that he was leaving her for the night.
His wife was a puzzle that after just over a year of marriage and one child together he’d still not solved. They worked together well in the daylight running Winterfell and presiding over the North, but this aspect of their marriage had never quite come together like the rest of their life.
“So what is it?” Jon asked, impatient.
He watched her bite her lower lip and then nod her head, resolved in some way.
“I’m pregnant,” Sansa said as she met his eyes.
Jon looked at her confused. They’d managed to get Hugh in her the first month of their marriage. They’d not bedded the rest of her pregnancy and she’d insisted starting for another only weeks after Hugh was born. He was a 5 moon babe now….
“How far along?” Jon asked, his voice unsure.
Sansa looked at her hands. “Almost 3 moons.”
“I don’t…” Jon stammered. That would mean this babe was in her as quickly as Hugh. Jon saw a lone tear fall down her cheek.
“Sansa,” Jon said as he moved to sit beside her on her bed. “I truly don’t understand. You hate the act, and yet you have not told me you are with child to stop me from visiting you. ”
“I know,” she sobbed, her hands covering her face. “I’m as bad as the whores. ”
“What?” Jon asked, truly confused.
“A lady isn’t supposed to encourage her husband in the act, she’s to bear it. A lady isn’t to act wantonly and desire her husband when she has no need of him for children. A true lady will discourage any…”
“Where is all this coming from?“Jon asked.
"My mother,” Sansa sighed as she met him with a tear-streaked face.
“So that first month….so these last few months…it…you wanted me in your bed?” Jon asked, astonished.
“You deserve better, Jon,” Sansa said quietly.
“I deserve you,” He said as he wiped her eyes. “What do you want? Truly want? Not as a lady…as Sansa?”
Sansa sighed as looked back down at her hands. Jon placed a finger under her chin and made her look at him.
“We didn’t choose this marriage. We didn’t choose this life. But when I married you, I married Sansa Stark, not some Lady version of Sansa Stark. Right now, I want to know what Sansa Stark wants. ”
Sansa looked at him for a long time, so long he wasn’t sure he’d get any answer from her.
“She wants to stop being a lady in the bedroom without disappointing her husband and making a fool of herself,” Sansa said softly.
“I think we can manage that,” Jon said with a smile as he leaned in to kiss her.