One - Game of Thrones - Jon/Robb
Title: One
Pairing: Jon/Robb
Word Count: 925
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written at my Tumblr.
Summary: PWP. Jon and Robb share everything.
Robb's hand tangles in the curls of Jon's hair, too tight to be comfortable, but it makes Jon grunt, makes his lips part. It allows Robb's tongue to push into the wet heat of his mouth, exploring every inch.
It feels like something is breaking inside of both of them; inside Winterfell's darkest walls, there is no one to watch, no one to judge, but Jon can feel it all the same. Along with the hungry grasp of Robb's hand, he can feel the disgust and sneers that would follow if they were ever discovered. It's stupid, to behave like that. Foolish.
Impossible to resist.
"Snow, stop thinking," Robb complains, with a gentle bite to his lower lip in retribution. His eyes are wild and his cheeks are flushed; the sight of him makes Jon's groin ache, his cock hard and wanting. There are no bastards that could come of a coupling between them; he doesn't have to worry, like he did when he was brought to Roz. With Robb, he can let go, part his lips, and give into his needs.
Robb's mouth trails down onto Jon's neck, his soft lips skimming over freshly groan stubble. Jon swallows, his Adams apple bobbing with nerves. It isn't the first time they've done this, won't be the last, but his hands always grasp too hard - he's too used to being denied what he wants. He can't help waiting for Robb to disappear too.
Yet Robb's smile is wide against his skin, and his hand is perfectly hot and tight and there when he thrusts it inside Jon's clothes and takes a firm hold of Jon's prick.
Jon has to muffle a shout, biting down on his bottom lip to hold it back. His lips will be red and swollen by the time they're done, tender whenever he speaks, and he has no doubt that it will be completely worth it. His head thuds back against the cold stone wall and Robb watches him with fascination in his eyes as he begins to stroke him, slower than Jon can take.
Robb's other hand goes to his hip, holding him back against the wall. He crowds in with his body as well, so that Jon's senses are filled with Robb; nothing else could come through, nothing could break this moment between them.
Jon groans helplessly as Robb jerks him off, his hand moving faster and faster. The sparse room is filled with the sound of wet flesh and their heavy panting; Robb's breath comes hot and fast against Jon's waiting lips. He wants to take a kiss from him, wants to steal everything he can, but it's impossible to think about moving when Robb tortures him so expertly.
He pushes away from the wall in complaint when Robb pulls his hand away: not fair, it's not fair, if Robb walks away now then Jon will find his sword and beat him mercilessly when they are next training. Yet all that Robb does is drop to his knees while Jon stares at him with wide-eyed confusion.
"I heard Theon talking about what they do in the whorehouses," Robb says, as he pulls at the belt holding Jon together. Clothing falls away to a limp puddle on the ground, Jon's prick exposed to the air and Robb's attention.
Moments later, he can only cry out, biting down on his fist to keep himself quiet, when Robb takes him into his mouth and swallows him eagerly.
Robb's tongue is like fire against Jon's prick, hot and clumsy as he licks his way over Jon's cock. It's nothing like his hand, and nothing like it is when they grind together in stolen moments in bed. Jon stares down, breath caught in his chest, at the sight of Robb's pink lips spread wide and worshipful.
Oh, gods.
Robb's eyes close, his eyelashes like black smears on his face, and his forehead creases in concentration. The length that won't fit into his mouth is covered with the strength of his fist, and he sucks on the end of Jon's cock with determined inexperience.
Jon's lung burn, and he takes forgetful gasps of air at irregular intervals. His mouth waters; he wants to do this to Robb in return, to make him gasp and moan and feel like this. It's stunning; he has to share it with him, as they share everything, so tangled up that Jon doesn't truly believe his life belongs to himself. Everything, everything, is theirs, not his.
Robb's mouth is impossible to resist, and despite the gently restraining hands on his hips Jon thrusts towards it by instinct, needing so much more. Robb eases back as he chokes, eyes watering. "I'm sorry," Jon says, the words that have been his lines for all his life. "Robb."
Robb shakes his head, covering his mouth, before turning back to Jon in determination. He takes Jon back between his lips before Jon can continue to rush his apologies. Jon pants for air, his fingers curling against the stone wall, unable to find anything to grasp hold of like he needs to.
His body tingles and burns, twitching with white heat as he feels the prickle of his orgasm approaching, firing through his body. He thinks Robb could devour him whole, could destroy him; he wouldn't care. He'd give Robb anything he wants.
With a shout he climaxes, spilling white seed into Robb's mouth. Robb rears back instantly, spitting out onto the ground and rubbing stray spunk from his face. Spent, Jon leans against the wall and groans in delight at the sight. "My turn," he states.
Competitive as ever, he needs to show Robb that he can be just as good.
Pairing: Jon/Robb
Word Count: 925
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written at my Tumblr.
Summary: PWP. Jon and Robb share everything.
Robb's hand tangles in the curls of Jon's hair, too tight to be comfortable, but it makes Jon grunt, makes his lips part. It allows Robb's tongue to push into the wet heat of his mouth, exploring every inch.
It feels like something is breaking inside of both of them; inside Winterfell's darkest walls, there is no one to watch, no one to judge, but Jon can feel it all the same. Along with the hungry grasp of Robb's hand, he can feel the disgust and sneers that would follow if they were ever discovered. It's stupid, to behave like that. Foolish.
Impossible to resist.
"Snow, stop thinking," Robb complains, with a gentle bite to his lower lip in retribution. His eyes are wild and his cheeks are flushed; the sight of him makes Jon's groin ache, his cock hard and wanting. There are no bastards that could come of a coupling between them; he doesn't have to worry, like he did when he was brought to Roz. With Robb, he can let go, part his lips, and give into his needs.
Robb's mouth trails down onto Jon's neck, his soft lips skimming over freshly groan stubble. Jon swallows, his Adams apple bobbing with nerves. It isn't the first time they've done this, won't be the last, but his hands always grasp too hard - he's too used to being denied what he wants. He can't help waiting for Robb to disappear too.
Yet Robb's smile is wide against his skin, and his hand is perfectly hot and tight and there when he thrusts it inside Jon's clothes and takes a firm hold of Jon's prick.
Jon has to muffle a shout, biting down on his bottom lip to hold it back. His lips will be red and swollen by the time they're done, tender whenever he speaks, and he has no doubt that it will be completely worth it. His head thuds back against the cold stone wall and Robb watches him with fascination in his eyes as he begins to stroke him, slower than Jon can take.
Robb's other hand goes to his hip, holding him back against the wall. He crowds in with his body as well, so that Jon's senses are filled with Robb; nothing else could come through, nothing could break this moment between them.
Jon groans helplessly as Robb jerks him off, his hand moving faster and faster. The sparse room is filled with the sound of wet flesh and their heavy panting; Robb's breath comes hot and fast against Jon's waiting lips. He wants to take a kiss from him, wants to steal everything he can, but it's impossible to think about moving when Robb tortures him so expertly.
He pushes away from the wall in complaint when Robb pulls his hand away: not fair, it's not fair, if Robb walks away now then Jon will find his sword and beat him mercilessly when they are next training. Yet all that Robb does is drop to his knees while Jon stares at him with wide-eyed confusion.
"I heard Theon talking about what they do in the whorehouses," Robb says, as he pulls at the belt holding Jon together. Clothing falls away to a limp puddle on the ground, Jon's prick exposed to the air and Robb's attention.
Moments later, he can only cry out, biting down on his fist to keep himself quiet, when Robb takes him into his mouth and swallows him eagerly.
Robb's tongue is like fire against Jon's prick, hot and clumsy as he licks his way over Jon's cock. It's nothing like his hand, and nothing like it is when they grind together in stolen moments in bed. Jon stares down, breath caught in his chest, at the sight of Robb's pink lips spread wide and worshipful.
Oh, gods.
Robb's eyes close, his eyelashes like black smears on his face, and his forehead creases in concentration. The length that won't fit into his mouth is covered with the strength of his fist, and he sucks on the end of Jon's cock with determined inexperience.
Jon's lung burn, and he takes forgetful gasps of air at irregular intervals. His mouth waters; he wants to do this to Robb in return, to make him gasp and moan and feel like this. It's stunning; he has to share it with him, as they share everything, so tangled up that Jon doesn't truly believe his life belongs to himself. Everything, everything, is theirs, not his.
Robb's mouth is impossible to resist, and despite the gently restraining hands on his hips Jon thrusts towards it by instinct, needing so much more. Robb eases back as he chokes, eyes watering. "I'm sorry," Jon says, the words that have been his lines for all his life. "Robb."
Robb shakes his head, covering his mouth, before turning back to Jon in determination. He takes Jon back between his lips before Jon can continue to rush his apologies. Jon pants for air, his fingers curling against the stone wall, unable to find anything to grasp hold of like he needs to.
His body tingles and burns, twitching with white heat as he feels the prickle of his orgasm approaching, firing through his body. He thinks Robb could devour him whole, could destroy him; he wouldn't care. He'd give Robb anything he wants.
With a shout he climaxes, spilling white seed into Robb's mouth. Robb rears back instantly, spitting out onto the ground and rubbing stray spunk from his face. Spent, Jon leans against the wall and groans in delight at the sight. "My turn," he states.
Competitive as ever, he needs to show Robb that he can be just as good.