fic, ASOIAF: to be by your side (Jon/Robb), NC17
Title: to be by your side [AO3]
Pairing: Jon/Robb
Rating: NC17
Word count:
Spoilers: nothing past the first season of the show.
Warnings: half-sibling incest.
Disclaimer: characters belong to GRRM and this is more show-based than books-based, so let's say everything belongs to HBO and the title belongs to Nick Cave. Nothing is mine.
Summary: Jon comes home. Robb is waiting for him.
A/N: written ages ago for toestastegood in a comment porn meme; the prompt was summer is coming. This is totally NOT ever going to happen, er.
There are still some remnants of snow, when Jon leaves the Wall. Spring has come a long time ago, but the Wall is always cold, even in summer.
The folded paper he's keeping in his pocket feels heavier than the supplies he brought for the journey. It's what permits him to ride at all; if not for that warrant that Robb signed, there'd be nothing saying that he hasn't deserted. His clothes are still all black. He can barely imagine himself wearing normal ones again.
Winterfell looks different, from afar; he doesn't know what it is exactly that makes it look so. Maybe it's knowing his father isn't its lord anymore, or maybe it's knowing who is now; most probably it's just that it's been years since he saw it and his mind is playing tricks with him.
He rides slowly to the gates; the grass is so green that the sight almost hurts his eyes, and he can't remember seeing so many flowers blooming in years. It really is spring, isn't it. On the Wall it didn't make a difference.
He doesn't recognize the guards at the gates, but then again didn't most of the people he knew die in King's Landing when they followed his father? It only makes sense that he doesn't recognize most of them.
At the gate, he hands the paper to the first guard he sees. He's escorted inside, but instead of leading him to the main door, he's brought the one leading to the kitchens. The guard leads him where Robb's old room used to be and tells him to wait; Jon does. He's somewhat perplexed, though; he hadn't expected to be welcomed the way his father welcomed Robert Baratheon years ago, but he doesn't understand this need for secrecy. Robb freed him from his vows and ordered him back here, so it's not as if Jon is a traitor - why keeping everything so hidden?
Before he can start wondering whether Robb feels somewhat ashamed of Jon's surname now, the door opens and Robb walks in.
Jon can't help smiling at the sight - Robb looks older than he did when they parted, but his hair is still bright red and his smile is still the same. It isn't changed, Jon knows that.
"Your Grace," Jon starts, and Robb shakes his head before closing a hand on his shoulder.
"None of that, Jon. I was hoping at least you wouldn't call me like that."
"So how should I address the King in the North?" Jon asks, keeping his tone light enough.
"The same way you always did," Robb answers.
Then both of his hands are on Jon's shoulders and Jon's back is against the wall, Robb's mouth crushing against his. Jon doesn't resist for a second, his body remembering the motions even if they haven't seen each other in years. He buries his hand in the hair at the base of Robb's skull and feels him moaning inside the kiss - so Jon still knows where to touch him. Robb's mouth is insistent and his tongue tries to reach as far as possible, and Jon kisses back with the same urgency. When Robb's hands reach for his neck and tear away his clothes Jon can't help laughing against Robb's neck.
"Careful, I only have so many clothes with me."
"If I have my saying, you'll never wear black ever again," Robb answers before proceeding to throw what remains of Jon's tunic to the corner of the room. Jon's heart beats faster at that, and while Robb's hands do the same service to his breeches, Jon gets rid of the gray cloak Robb was wearing. When they fall on the bed the clothes are scattered all over the floor. Jon notices that Robb's chest isn't marred just with the kind of scars you get while sparring - there's one that was most probably because of an arrow wound on his shoulder that is still faintly pink. Jon himself is full of sparring scars and sword ones, not to mention the burns on his arm from when he saved the Lord Commander. While Robb studies his arm Jon leans up and kisses the scar on his shoulder, and then Robb's hands are on his wrists and Robb is kissing him again, so hard that Jon is half-sure it'll bruise.
"Sorry for the secrecy," Robb whispers as he moves away and trails a line of kisses along Jon's jaw, "but if I had received you properly, I'd have had to wait until tonight."
Jon tries not to show that he's relieved to hear that, but then again Robb's teeth are biting his shoulder gently, so Robb isn't even looking at him.
"Far from me to deny my king anything."
"That's what I like to hear," Robb replies, and then Jon gasps when Robb's cock brushes against his. He doesn't have time to do anything before Robb's hand moves down, closing around both Jon's erection and his; Jon's hips arch up as he tries not to moan.
"Be as loud as you like," Robb whispers, his hand stroking the both of them slowly, enough for Jon to feel his own cock harden further against Robb's hand. "No one has slept in this area for a while. And no one is to search for me for the next two hours."
"You - you planned well," Jon manages, even if he can barely put a sentence together by now. Not when he's feeling himself leaking all over Robb's hand (and Robb's cock, not so incidentally).
"You should have never left," Robb mutters against Jon's shoulder, and Jon would like to answer, but then Robb changes the pace and his other hand ends up tangled in Jon's hair, and Jon is beyond speaking or thinking anything that isn't Robb's name. When he comes, it's harder than he can remember, not when he's spent years with only his hand imagining Robb's face as he brought himself off; Robb kisses him midway, loose and messy and lacking all the finesse that comes to him naturally in any other occasion. When it's over, Jon is sweating all over (and it feels nice - he's used to freezing cold, not scorching heat) and he's loathe to move his head from the crook of Robb's neck, where it ended up after Robb rolled off him and lied on his side.
"That was the best welcome you could give me," Jon whispers against Robb's skin.
"It isn't over yet. And then I guess you'll sneak out from the kitchens and then I'll pretend that it's the first time we meet in years when you walk through the main door."
Jon's hand reaches forward, gripping Robb's hip; he moves so that they're chest to chest. The entire room is bathed in sunlight and Robb's hair almost looks like fire in that light. He reaches up, burying his hand inside the curls again, marveling at how warm everything feels.
When he left winter was coming and he was sure he'd never be back; now summer is almost here and he's glad to have proof of how wrong he had been.
End
Pairing: Jon/Robb
Rating: NC17
Word count:
Spoilers: nothing past the first season of the show.
Warnings: half-sibling incest.
Disclaimer: characters belong to GRRM and this is more show-based than books-based, so let's say everything belongs to HBO and the title belongs to Nick Cave. Nothing is mine.
Summary: Jon comes home. Robb is waiting for him.
A/N: written ages ago for toestastegood in a comment porn meme; the prompt was summer is coming. This is totally NOT ever going to happen, er.
There are still some remnants of snow, when Jon leaves the Wall. Spring has come a long time ago, but the Wall is always cold, even in summer.
The folded paper he's keeping in his pocket feels heavier than the supplies he brought for the journey. It's what permits him to ride at all; if not for that warrant that Robb signed, there'd be nothing saying that he hasn't deserted. His clothes are still all black. He can barely imagine himself wearing normal ones again.
Winterfell looks different, from afar; he doesn't know what it is exactly that makes it look so. Maybe it's knowing his father isn't its lord anymore, or maybe it's knowing who is now; most probably it's just that it's been years since he saw it and his mind is playing tricks with him.
He rides slowly to the gates; the grass is so green that the sight almost hurts his eyes, and he can't remember seeing so many flowers blooming in years. It really is spring, isn't it. On the Wall it didn't make a difference.
He doesn't recognize the guards at the gates, but then again didn't most of the people he knew die in King's Landing when they followed his father? It only makes sense that he doesn't recognize most of them.
At the gate, he hands the paper to the first guard he sees. He's escorted inside, but instead of leading him to the main door, he's brought the one leading to the kitchens. The guard leads him where Robb's old room used to be and tells him to wait; Jon does. He's somewhat perplexed, though; he hadn't expected to be welcomed the way his father welcomed Robert Baratheon years ago, but he doesn't understand this need for secrecy. Robb freed him from his vows and ordered him back here, so it's not as if Jon is a traitor - why keeping everything so hidden?
Before he can start wondering whether Robb feels somewhat ashamed of Jon's surname now, the door opens and Robb walks in.
Jon can't help smiling at the sight - Robb looks older than he did when they parted, but his hair is still bright red and his smile is still the same. It isn't changed, Jon knows that.
"Your Grace," Jon starts, and Robb shakes his head before closing a hand on his shoulder.
"None of that, Jon. I was hoping at least you wouldn't call me like that."
"So how should I address the King in the North?" Jon asks, keeping his tone light enough.
"The same way you always did," Robb answers.
Then both of his hands are on Jon's shoulders and Jon's back is against the wall, Robb's mouth crushing against his. Jon doesn't resist for a second, his body remembering the motions even if they haven't seen each other in years. He buries his hand in the hair at the base of Robb's skull and feels him moaning inside the kiss - so Jon still knows where to touch him. Robb's mouth is insistent and his tongue tries to reach as far as possible, and Jon kisses back with the same urgency. When Robb's hands reach for his neck and tear away his clothes Jon can't help laughing against Robb's neck.
"Careful, I only have so many clothes with me."
"If I have my saying, you'll never wear black ever again," Robb answers before proceeding to throw what remains of Jon's tunic to the corner of the room. Jon's heart beats faster at that, and while Robb's hands do the same service to his breeches, Jon gets rid of the gray cloak Robb was wearing. When they fall on the bed the clothes are scattered all over the floor. Jon notices that Robb's chest isn't marred just with the kind of scars you get while sparring - there's one that was most probably because of an arrow wound on his shoulder that is still faintly pink. Jon himself is full of sparring scars and sword ones, not to mention the burns on his arm from when he saved the Lord Commander. While Robb studies his arm Jon leans up and kisses the scar on his shoulder, and then Robb's hands are on his wrists and Robb is kissing him again, so hard that Jon is half-sure it'll bruise.
"Sorry for the secrecy," Robb whispers as he moves away and trails a line of kisses along Jon's jaw, "but if I had received you properly, I'd have had to wait until tonight."
Jon tries not to show that he's relieved to hear that, but then again Robb's teeth are biting his shoulder gently, so Robb isn't even looking at him.
"Far from me to deny my king anything."
"That's what I like to hear," Robb replies, and then Jon gasps when Robb's cock brushes against his. He doesn't have time to do anything before Robb's hand moves down, closing around both Jon's erection and his; Jon's hips arch up as he tries not to moan.
"Be as loud as you like," Robb whispers, his hand stroking the both of them slowly, enough for Jon to feel his own cock harden further against Robb's hand. "No one has slept in this area for a while. And no one is to search for me for the next two hours."
"You - you planned well," Jon manages, even if he can barely put a sentence together by now. Not when he's feeling himself leaking all over Robb's hand (and Robb's cock, not so incidentally).
"You should have never left," Robb mutters against Jon's shoulder, and Jon would like to answer, but then Robb changes the pace and his other hand ends up tangled in Jon's hair, and Jon is beyond speaking or thinking anything that isn't Robb's name. When he comes, it's harder than he can remember, not when he's spent years with only his hand imagining Robb's face as he brought himself off; Robb kisses him midway, loose and messy and lacking all the finesse that comes to him naturally in any other occasion. When it's over, Jon is sweating all over (and it feels nice - he's used to freezing cold, not scorching heat) and he's loathe to move his head from the crook of Robb's neck, where it ended up after Robb rolled off him and lied on his side.
"That was the best welcome you could give me," Jon whispers against Robb's skin.
"It isn't over yet. And then I guess you'll sneak out from the kitchens and then I'll pretend that it's the first time we meet in years when you walk through the main door."
Jon's hand reaches forward, gripping Robb's hip; he moves so that they're chest to chest. The entire room is bathed in sunlight and Robb's hair almost looks like fire in that light. He reaches up, burying his hand inside the curls again, marveling at how warm everything feels.
When he left winter was coming and he was sure he'd never be back; now summer is almost here and he's glad to have proof of how wrong he had been.
End