Fic: maybe we could find new ways to fall apart
Title: maybe we could find new ways to fall apart
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire/Game Of Thrones
Pairings/Characters: Jon Snow/Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Rating: NC-17
Words: 15,300
Warnings: Incest, double-penetration.
Summary: Modern AU. It's Jeyne's birthday and Robb and Jon make sure she doesn't forget it.
Notes: Written for scorpiod1 for the asoiafkinkmeme. This is a highly ridiculous, lengthy Porn-Without-Plot that has really no excuse for being so long. Strongly enabled by scorpiod1; this is all her fault, so blame her.
They shouldn’t be doing this, not here---Robb grins lazy and flippant at the cab driver when he catches his glare in the rearview mirror---but it makes him feel brazen and delirious, feeling Jon and Jeyne against him, their limbs tangled together in a human knot, the three of them making out in the backseat of the cab like horny teenagers.
Or maybe that’s the alcohol, making him warm and loose-limbed and overly affectionate.
Robb holds Jeyne against him as Jon presses her closer, her back to his chest with his hand resting against her stomach, rising and falling with it as she breathes into Jon's mouth, clutching at his hair, the both of them half in his lap as they kiss. Robb remembers the fierceness of her kisses, feeling them still aching on his lips as he licks over them (Jeyne's a biter and she bites at Jon's mouth now, something he hadn't known from their first kiss---gentle, almost hesitant, half an accident, until it wasn't, until he kissed back, holding her face in his hands when she cut her teeth on his lips as she climbed into his lap and pushed him against her couch, together before he had even realized they were).
The volume on the radio increases, 90’s soft rock battling with sighs and moans, trying to mask the sounds they’re making, but Robb can hear them---the soft whimper in Jeyne’s throat when her shirt sides up and his fingers graze her skin, his own choked gasp when Jon’s fingertips inch over the skin of his hip. Robb amuses himself thinking about what the cab driver’s face would look like if they started to tug at their clothes, peeling them away---the thought a dangerous one, growing and mutating and he’s not sure how much time they have, not sure if he cares, but Robb can’t bring himself to look away from Jeyne and Jon to look out the window to check how much longer until home (he likes the way they look when they kiss, when they touch, two pieces of himself sliding into place and fitting together, smiling against each other’s mouths).
Jeyne breaks with Jon’s mouth and Robb feels his lips over his own, distracting him as Jon’s tongue curls inside, and he wants to hold tight, wants to be closer---
But he wouldn’t, not here. He likes showing them off, flaunting them, telling the world they’re his in his own secret ways, but it would almost feel like sharing to let someone see and Robb doesn’t share (only with them, but that doesn’t feel like sharing at all). Robb thinks the anticipation is making him dizzy and wound-tight, fogging his mind---we’re almost home, he thinks, not sure how he knows, just a feeling in his limbs.
They nearly fall off the seat when the cab stops suddenly outside their house, lurching forward together yet balancing precariously with Jon’s hands grappling on Robb as their teeth clack together, pulling away quickly as Jon holds them together, keeping them steady and seated. Jon and Jeyne untangle themselves from him as they both stumble from the cab, while Robb turns to the cab driver, grinning over his shoulder while he fishes money out of his wallet. The cab driver takes the money Robb passes through the window without looking at him, then Robb slides out of the backseat, shutting the door behind him when he feels pavement under his feet.
He turns back on impulse, catching his gaze. “It’s her birthday!” Robb announces to the cab driver, throwing his arms up as the man shakes his head, peeling out of their driveway with a squeal of his tires and speeding away.
Jeyne laughs, high and bright, and she doesn’t stop as grabs his wrist, her other hand twining through Jon’s. “Come along, boys.” Jeyne grins at them over her shoulder, flashing her teeth in the dull light of the street lamps as she tows them behind her.
Once inside, with the front door barely closed, Robb shoves Jeyne up against the wall as he holds her hips, hearing the way her laughter bleeds into a gasp when he ducks his head and grazes his mouth over her throat, when his hand moves to press against her front. Robb hears Jon kick the door closed through the sound of Jeyne’s sharp breathing, hot on his ear as his fingers slip under the band of her jeans, rubbing at the skin of her stomach, skimming lower as her body rolls under his, trying to move his hand where she wants it to go.
His teeth nip at her skin when he feels Jon spread across his back, warm and loose and heavy, pressing them all closer together as his mouth brushes across the back of Robb’s neck, hands exploring under his clothes, until Robb jerks into Jeyne, his hand slipping against her, feeling her wet on his fingers as Jon’s hand wraps around his cock. Jeyne arcs into his touch, grinding her hips down on his hand, her moan becoming his whine, Jon’s fingertips stroking lightly over his length as Robb feels his mouth curve against his neck.
“The bedroom,” Jeyne says, choking on a breath as Robb experimentally runs a finger up and over her clit. She pulls his hand away, out of her pants; Robb grins when she bites down on the moan that nearly escapes her lips at losing the sensation. “Now.” Her eyes are firm, commanding, but there’s a wicked edge in her gaze as she nudges him off of her.
Jon leaves him hard and aching when he lets go, peeling himself off his back as he tugs Robb away from Jeyne by his shoulders, letting her slip from her grasp as she dashes down the hall. They glance at each other, before following closely behind.
“So where are my presents?” Jeyne asks, when Jon and Robb reach their bedroom. “I don’t see them anywhere.” Jeyne looks at them both expectantly (her lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed and hair a mess---but not enough, Robb decides, not nearly enough), then turns around on unstable legs, glancing around their room with searching eyes.
Robb watches Jon’s face from over Jeyne’s shoulder, the slightest flicker in his eyes as he moves closer, the barest hint of a grin on his face as he herds Jeyne up against Robb (he can read even the smallest of Jon’s tells, the way he schools his face to only convey what he wants Robb to hear; it’s useful, even here, when their prey is much easier to ensnare). Jeyne melts against his front, pliant and still buzzed, Jon pressing her further from behind with his lips at the nape of Jeyne’s neck and his hands around her waist. Jeyne tilts her face to meet Robb’s with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as his hands rest on the curve of her hips. She moves in until until she has her lips on his and Robb can taste the vodka from her mouth, the lasting remnants of sour apple sparking on his tongue.
Jeyne pulls away and tries to twist around between them, but Robb holds firm to her hips, fitting himself more firmly against her, pressing her back against Jon. There’s a flare in her eyes, but she doesn’t stop grinning. She angles her head away from him instead, arching her head back and her hand coming up to curl under Jon’s chin, tugging him into a kiss from over her shoulder. Robb watches them as he feels her warm skin slowly revealed to his hands, Jon bunching up her shirt with his fingers at her waist, hands holding the fabric up as she bites at his bottom lip, her hand cupping around his jaw (sometimes with their faces angled toward each other, Robb thinks they look more related than he and Jon ever have, with their dark eyes and dark curling hair).
Robb hears Jeyne moan into Jon’s mouth, feels the sound of it creep over his skin and under it, quivering down his spine when he picks her up by the hips and grins, watching the way their mouths move together, smooth and practiced and comfortable, and wants to keep watching, a fondness bubbling up in his chest (they’re mine, Robb thinks, rubbing soft circles into Jeyne’s skin with his thumbs as she locks her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, drawing him towards them).
Jon breaks the kiss to tug Jeyne’s shirt off over her head as Jeyne lets him, moves with him, lifting her arms as Jon’s fingertips drag over her skin as Robb watches with a catch in his throat, his breath stuttering on it, loving the way they look when Jon peels Jeyne’s clothes off (it shouldn’t look normal, not as natural as it does, as intimate as it does). Robb slides his hands to catch her around her rib cage to keep her steady in the air, keep her balanced and working in tandem with Jon as Jeyne looks at him with bright eyes and hair mussed and tousled over her shoulders, as he thinks, so much hair, and wants to bury in face in it.
Robb ducks his head to kiss up the line of Jeyne’s collarbone, tasting leftover salt from the body shots earlier, the tequila and the lime, the dried sweat lingering on her skin. Jeyne made him dance with her, then tugged Jon out onto the floor after him, until she was dancing between them, laughing and spinning, creating new steps for three; he can still smell the club on her, but underneath he can smell her, smell Jeyne, the heavy woodsy scent on her throat and behind her ears, heated with the spice of cinnamon (she smells like Jon, the cologne he rarely uses, dabbed over her pulse points from the bottle she stole).
He feels her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him up with a sharp pain in his scalp. Jeyne kisses him softly, apologetically, then pulls away, her lips brushing his ear. “Kiss him,” she says, wrapping an arm around his back as she pulls back, her gaze tracking back towards Jon, biting down on her lip (Jeyne likes watching them kiss, likes to take them to bars and clubs and dare them to kiss in public as a thrill shoots through her, like tonight---Robb’s seen her eyes when she watches, intent and blown wide, breath quick because she’s the only one who knows, the only one who knows who they are in a crowd full of strangers). Jon catches Jeyne’s weight when Robb’s hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling his down to meet his mouth as he hears Jeyne’s inhale, feels the pinch of her nails as they dig into his shoulder over his shirt as Jon’s tongue slips inside his mouth with Jeyne pressed between them.
His lips drag against Jon’s jaw when he pulls back, smiling faintly as Robb’s hand drops back to Jeyne’s hip, feeling her pressing hot, open mouthed kisses up the line of his throat as her fingers work open the buttons of his shirt with teasing, agonizing brushes against his steadily bared skin. Jon’s hands slide up Jeyne’s torso, yanking down her bra and letting her breasts spill out into his hands as Robb feels his head grow light and a weakness in his knees starts to build at the sight (they’re hands not his own, but they could be, hands he’s known his whole life that tell the same story---he wonders if Jeyne can feel the difference in the calluses, the rough and smooth patches, if Jon holds her differently; he wonders if she can feel the scar the cuts across his palm, the one that matches Robb’s). Jeyne’s nipples pebble against Jon’s fingers as he rolls them against his thumb and she whines against Robb’s neck, her teeth biting at his skin, an addicting pinch that Robb pushes into as Jeyne’s hips roll against his and her back arches.
Robb takes a few wobbly steps back, directing them all towards the chair in the corner of their room; Jon follows, holding up the upper half of Jeyne’s body, his face buried against her neck. They move with ease, despite the alcohol burning through their systems, slowing their reflexes. They’ve done this before, stumbling together and tugging at clothes, and they’ve developed a rhythm, a knowing in the way they step; Robb knows how Jeyne will shift with Jon at her back, know the weight of her in his hands, knows the shape of her the way he knows the shape of Jon, their bodies worn down and curved to fit each other over time. Robb breathes out when he collapses on the chair and not the floor, Jeyne straddling his lap without a disaster.
Somehow in the relocation, Jon had flicked back the snap on Jeyne’s bra and Robb watches as it slides down her arms, until she untangles her arms from the straps and tosses it over her shoulder. Jeyne brings Robb’s hands to her breasts, molding his fingers to cup around her as she leans forward, pressing against his hands with a cocky grin as her head tilts until Jeyne is kissing him. She finishes working open his shirt, her palms brushing over his skin as her tongue curls against his. He feels Jon come to kneel at his feet and has to stave off the desire to tug him up, pull Jon against him, too as his hands run up Robb’s thighs until they divert towards Jeyne on his lap. When she pulls away, teeth tugging at his bottom lip until she lets go to take off Robb’s shirt, he spies Jon’s hands undoing the front of Jeyne’s jeans, rolling the material as far down as it’ll go.
Jeyne’s hips snap up, then rock down against him when Jon’s hand slips inside her underwear, the friction against his cock sparking up his spine. Jeyne’s hands grip his shoulders as she bears down on Jon’s hand, hips swiveling, demanding more, her body tense and in control, her eyes watching him, challenging him. Robb loves her like this, the commanding way she moves, the subtle shift in Jeyne’s features as she bites down on her bottom lip, moans trapped in her throat, holding back when she knows Robb wants to see her let go.
Robb smirks and turns away, locking eyes with Jon. “Tell me how wet she is,” he says. “Is she ready for us?”
Jeyne gasps out, face falling against his shoulder. “God, Robb,” she says.
Jon is silent as he pulls his hand out of Jeyne’s underwear and brings his fingers to Robb’s mouth, running them over his lips; Robb sucks them in, tasting Jeyne wet on his tongue, smelling her on Jon’s hand, licks her from his fingers. Jon’s face shifts, just slightly, opening up for a moment, looking raw and bare---no one else but Robb could tell, before he shuts down his features. Only the darkness in his gaze remained, a flush in his cheeks and the way Robb saw he was biting down on his lip, the clench in his jaw keeping his mouth closed, locking any sound he might make behind his teeth. Robb grins down at him and it feels like a challenge, a dare (he thinks, I’ll hear you before the night’s over, you’ll make a sound for me, cry out and beg for more). Jon’s fingers slip from his mouth and licks his lips.
Robb feels Jeyne’s eyes on him, weighty and piercing, and he turns to grin at her, too, catching the roll of her eyes. “Does that answer your question satisfactorily? Can we move on?” she asks, the tone of her voice cutting, but there’s a heaviness to her breathing, a shifting in her body, fluid above him, seeking contact. Her eyes are dark like Jon’s.
“I don’t know,” he says, grabbing Jon’s hand and laying it over her stomach, directing both their hands downward. “Maybe I need another taste.” Jon hides his face against Jeyne’s back as Jeyne snorts, brushing their hands away.
Robb feels her unbuttoning his jeans a second later, hissing through his teeth as his hips jerk up when her hand wraps around his cock, pulling him out as she leans forward, her lips brushing his. “Or you could just fuck me,” she whispers, twisting her hand around him, her head tilting to the side as she watches him. “Or maybe Jon can fuck me and you can watch.” A wolfish grin breaks out across her mouth when he whines, bucking against her.
“Come here,” Robb hears Jon say, his voice low, sending a tremor down Robb’s spine at the sound. Jon appears over Jeyne’s shoulder, his mouth at her neck as his hands wrap around her waist. Jeyne leans back against him, arching her neck and exposing her throat as her grip loosens and she lets go of him as Jon tugs her to him; Jeyne slips off his lap, rising to her feet, pulled along by Jon. They make his breath hitch with the way they move, with the sight of them pressed together, it's just enough to send his pulse racing.
Jon turns her, twisting her hips until they stand in profile in front of Robb, silhouetted in shadow with the lamp casting light behind them---curves and long lines and Jeyne’s bare skin against the cloth of Jon’s shirt. Robb thinks maybe they’ve wandered off course---this wasn’t a part of the plan, Jon isn’t supposed to tug Jeyne away from him, touching and kissing her like Robb’s meant to watch. Robb wonders if he should mind, if he should pull Jeyne back, but he doesn’t move, just curls his hands around the arms of the chair, waiting with anticipation buzzing underneath his skin, hot and itchy as he shifts in his seat, feeling like his pants even half-undone are far too much clothing to be wearing.
(He imagines how Jon will do it, fuck Jeyne---if he’ll spread her out across the bed and go at it slowly, steadily working her up to a fever-pitch, or press her against the wall and take her hard and fast, let her nails bite into his back, or pull her on top of him and make Robb watch as she Jeyne rides Jon with her back to him, unable to reach, unable to touch.)
Jon cups her face in his hands and Jeyne tilts her mouth into his, but Jon kisses her jaw instead, moving to her neck, licking along her throat as he moves downwards, kissing along the line of her sternum between her breasts. Jeyne’s hands weave into his hair, tangling in the dark curls and pulling to direct him to put his mouth to better use, but Jon stays his course, ignoring the peaks of her nipples and the whine in her throat, enduring the sharp tugs at his scalp. Robb doesn’t think he would be able to resist, his own fingers digging into the arms of the chair to keep seated, to keep from getting up and doing what Jon won’t, growing impatient of just watching when Jon won’t make an effort for a proper show.
Jon kneels at Jeyne’s feet, kissing over her stomach and then his eyes flicker towards Robb’s, holding his gaze as he rolls her jeans and underwear down over her hips and it dawns on him: Jon’s still playing the game. Robb grins at him as Jon’s lips curve against Jeyne stomach, pulling her jeans down her thighs as he moves lower. Robb shrugs out of his own pants, casting them aside and waits, anticipation thrumming through his veins like a caffeine spike, leaving him shaky and ultra-focused, unable to tear his eyes away, his breathing shallow and fast.
Her jeans pool at her knees when Jon presses his face between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, his fingers working her jeans lower, letting the material slide down her calves; Robb can see the way Jeyne’s hands clench in his hair, her hips rocking towards him, trying to angle Jon just right (Robb can feel her hands in his hair, a phantom grip, tugging like she holds onto Jon’s head; he can feel Jon’s hair slip through his fingers, memory playing tricks on his senses as he imagines himself in both places, familiar with both ends). She lets out a small cry, biting down on it before it grew louder, her teeth pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as a surge goes through her body, her back arched and hips rolling towards Jon when his tongue strikes out, licking up over her folds, swirling up inside her.
“Is he sucking on your clit, Jeyne?” he asks, aiming for a reaction, enjoying sight of the tremor that goes through her body, Jon working her over just like he taught him, hitting all the secret spots Robb showed him and how to apply pressure, how to make her lose control. “Tell me how it feels. Is he good?” Jeyne doesn’t respond, refuses to, but he can tell from the noises he makes, the ones she can’t easily cover up, the low, guttural moans that would almost become growls if she would open her mouth instead of chewing her lip raw. She presses Jon’s face against her with her hands holding tight to the back of his head, glancing over at Robb with hooded eyes and a taunting grin. Jon manages to get Jeyne to step out of her jeans in a heap at her ankles, moving on wobbling legs with hitching breaths as Jon’s tongue works over her.
Robb watches Jon shifts her around, herding her back with his tongue, her steps slow and unbalanced, but he holds her up, guiding her with his hand on her hip. Jeyne gasps out when Jon gets to his feet in a swift move, sweeping her off her feet and hitching her legs around his waist. Robb watches, squirming in his seat as impatience edges at him as Jon captures her open mouth with his, kissing her an urgency not in his steps. Anticipation threads through Robb’s body as Jon carries Jeyne the rest of the way to him and he reaches out as Jon unlocks her legs and Robb catches her by the hips. Jeyne clings to Jon with his hair still coiled tightly around her fingers, her teeth still biting at his lips as she kisses him, even as he lowers her down. Robb feels her hot and wet at the tip of cock as he angles her, hissing out when Jon’s fingers curl around the base of his cock, thumb stroking the underside as he shifts him. Jeyne cries out, her mouth breaking from Jon’s as she slides down the length of Robb, jerking with the surprise as he thrusts the rest of the way inside.
“Fuck,” she grunts out, rocking against him. “Fuck.”
“You did say you wanted me to fuck you,” he whispers in her ear, tracing the curve of the shell with his tongue, biting at her lope.
She rises up, twisting her hips as she thrusts down. “Shut up,” Jeyne gasps out.
Robb grins against her cheek. “You like it,” he says, just to hear the noise she makes at the back of her throat, then he cups her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching lightly as he bites at her shoulder. He feels Jon settle between their legs as running his hands up Robb’s thighs as he spreads them wider to make room for himself. “I know you do, just like you like Jon's mouth on you,” he tells her, trying to keep the hitch out of his voice when Jon breathes hot over where he and Jeyne are joined as his mouth descends.
He licks up the underside of Robb’s cock, shocking a cry out of Robb’s throat, feeling the rough slide Jon’s tongue instead of Jeyne’s slick cunt. She slips back down, clenching over him as tremor runs through her when Jon sucks her clit into his mouth. Robb feels his lips rub up against the base of his cock as Jeyne’s hands find Jon’s hair again. Robb works his hips underneath her as she curses under her breath, moving with him and pressing herself against Jon.
“Don’t touch yourself,” she tells Jon, her voice thick with a groan rising up in her throat, but direct, catching Jon’s hand before it drew near to the front of his pants. “I don’t want you to touch yourself until I say.” Jon obeys, his hands moving to grip Robb’s knees, his fingernails digging into Robb’s skin.
Robb whines against Jeyne’s neck when Jon’s tongue slips over him again when Jeyne rises up, lips sucking along the shaft of his cock, until Jeyne slides down over where Jon’s mouth had been; it’s maddening, distracting, sending hot spikes of pleasure through his limbs, pushing him to the verge and pulling him back, his heart pounding and bruising his ribs---his hand drops down to tangle in Jon’s hair beside Jeyne’s, tugging at his curls, hoping for mercy he’ll never give. Jeyne’s breathing matches his, shallow panting breaths broken up with hitches and moans, sharp cries when he moves just right inside her or Jon bites ever so gently, smoothing the pain away with a sweep of his tongue. Her heart keeps tempo with his, rapid and heavy, sounding like the beating of a bass drum in his head while her back sticks to his chest, sliding in places slick with sweat; they’re moving in tandem now, finding a rhythm that works, one that will bring them closer---he can feel it in the tightening of his muscles, the clenching of hers.
Jon keeps their legs open with his hands on Robb’s knees, Jeyne’s legs draped his thighs trying to close, to wrap around Jon’s shoulders, to push him closer; he moves in anyway, his mouth moving over her and over Robb (he can feel it constantly now, Jon’s lips and tongue and breath, working at the edge we’re they’re joined, making them both feel it). Their thrusts grow sharper, shallower, Jeyne riding him with quick shifts of her hips, angling her head to kiss him, catching the corner of his mouth and his chin, until he captures her mouth, kissing her as his fingertips rubbing circles against Jon’s scalp.
Jeyne cries into his mouth, biting down on his lip when she comes, her body convulsing and trembling against him, jerky spasms working up her torso as her cunt grips him tight. He follows her over with his face buried in her neck, masking the moan that comes out more like a growl, leaving him with a whimper; Robb comes with Jon’s mouth at his thigh.
Robb slips from Jeyne, slick and sticky and dripping, as he releases his grip on Jon’s hair, head foggy and feeling warm, feeling content as he lays his hand to rest over Jeyne’s stomach, curling around her with his cheek against her throat. She doesn’t sink into him, boneless and sated as she should, but rather she remains tense, a high keening whine escaping her lips. “Jon, god,” she gasps out, wriggling against him. “Stop.” Robb looks down and sees only Jon’s dark head still between Jeyne’s thighs, her legs draped over his shoulders as he holds her hips.
”That’s enough,” Jeyne says through clenched teeth and Robb realizes Jon is still licking her out, tongue dipping in between her hyper-sensitive folds, licking her clean. His cock aches between his legs and Robb feels dry, rubbed raw; it hurts, he can’t feel like this so soon afterwards, hot and peaking towards arousal at the sight of Jon licking up the remnants of his come from Jeyne’s cunt, seeing it on his chin when Jeyne pulls him away, a pink flush in his pale cheeks and his eyes blown-wide, tongue darting out over his swollen lips.
“Jesus,” Jeyne says, panting in Robb’s ear as her head falls on his and her body collapses against him as she drags her legs up and folds them against the arm of the chair. “Fuck,” Robb says, returning her sentiments, leaning up to kiss her sweaty temple.
Robb manages to grab a hold of Jon’s wrist and tugs him up by his arm. “Come here,” he says, latching onto the collar of his shirt when he gets near enough, pulling Jon down to him as he grins, a smug heat in his eyes. “That’s not playing fair,” Robb says, arching up to kiss him, tasting them all in his mouth. “That’s cheating,” he says when he breaks the kiss.
“Cheating?” Jon says, cupping Robb’s jaw, tilting his face to meet his mouth again. “Or winning?” Jon bites his lip when he lets go of his mouth, flashing his teeth.
“Is this a game?” Jeyne asks, winding her arm around Jon’s back, dragging him closer and nuzzling her face against his neck. “I thought this was my gift.”
Jon grins over her head, running the tips of his fingers down her spine, curling them in the ends of her hair; he’s smug, Robb realizes, satisfied even though he was still dressed, probably still aching in his pants, dripping and making a mess of himself. Robb thinks he would have gone mad by now, but Jon looks sated, content with an edge of amusement alight in his eyes. Is this a game? Robb thinks, curling his fingers over the collar of Jon’s shirt, tracing over his skin up through the hollow of his throat, what are you playing at? It feels like it’s all gone out of control, spiralling out of his hands as he loses his grip (was it ever that strong, anyway?), Jon chasing him with a challenge he shouldn’t rise to meet, but he was never smart enough to listen to that small, distant voice in his head telling him to stop, to think, telling him no, don’t do that.
(Sometimes he doesn’t think he was born with a conscience, leaving him warped and wired wrong---he never thought when he kissed Jon, he just did, like a reflex he never knew was there until the right nerve was hit. Sometimes he thinks he broke Jon’s, cracked it and kept applying pressure until it crumbled. He remembered Jon used to run, used to whisper the things Robb should have known himself, used to be the voice in his head, pulling him back---now Jon meets him head-on, no holding back, throwing himself against him like Robb once did to him.)
“It is your gift,” Jon says, breaking their gaze and lifting Jeyne’s chin, angling her head towards his with his mouth curved, less smug and more light, almost cheerful if it weren’t for the heat in his eyes. “We were just playing.”
“Well, it’s not fair I didn’t get a kiss,” Jeyne says, resting her forehead against Jon’s. “It’s quite rude, actually.”
“We’ll just have to rectify that, won’t we?” Jon says, close enough to breathe it out across her lips, then he pushes forward, slotting their mouths together like interlocking puzzle pieces. Jeyne wraps her arms around his neck, curling towards Jon, fitting her body to his as she slips off Robb’s lap, the pair of them hovering before him.
Robb likes the way they look together, pressed up and tangled, blurring lines that should be clear and distinct---his brother and his wife, kissing like that belong like that. Jeyne’s body is made up of lean lines and dangerous curves, covered in brown skin completely bare against Jon’s clothed body, striking to witness and the sight of it draws his breath in like a punch to his gut. He imagines what it must feel like, the cloth rubbing up against her sensitive skin, intimate despite the barrier, far more intimate than they should be. Robb wants to tear Jon’s clothes off so he can see his skin, too.
(Sometimes he thinks Jeyne should stayed away when she ran, that it would be better for her if she got out before he pulled her under. He remembers her face when she saw them, him and Jon too wrapped up and tangled in each other to be anything different, wide-open and devastated and paler than he’s ever seen her. He thinks he broke her then, when he couldn’t keep his mouth off Jon’s, couldn't keep his hands to himself, when she saw the part of him he never could quite shake. Resilient, adaptable Jeyne, she could make it anywhere, she didn’t need in the way he did---but she came back, wanting with hollow, determined eyes he can’t forget, wanting him and taking Jon and shedding off pieces of her rationale, bit by bit. She made herself fit between them, carved out a place for herself inside Jon and let him under her skin, then built new foundations they could all stand on. But Robb will always remember there’s something he cracked inside her, a fracture that never healed and only kept growing wider.)
Jeyne slides away from Jon, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as she crawls back over Robb, careful to make their skin rub in places as she moves up. Her hand curves around his cheek, holding his face as she leans in and he feels her breath, hot across the shell of his ear. “Jon is still hard,” she whispers, her thumb stroking over her cheekbone, her mouth dipping down to kiss his jaw. “You should take care of that.” Jeyne presses closer as he feels the scrape of her teeth against his skin. “I want to see you together,” she says, voice low and thick in his ear; there’s a hitch in her breathing, stuttering the deep inhales. “Please.”
Robb lets his face fall against her neck, nuzzling her skin as his stomach twists and his heart picks up, feeling heat rush to the surface of his skin. (He thinks, I did this; he watched her settle so comfortably into this, without him asking her to, fitting in like she had been there all along, wanting in the way he and Jon want---it should make him sick with guilt, but all he feels is a delirious sense of happiness, a contentedness settling in his bones.) “Okay,” he says, feeling shaky and wound up as he pulls away. “Okay.”
They turn towards Jon in tandem, feeling Jeyne shift around as Robb’s eyes lift to catch his gaze. Jon’s still smiling when he looks at him, but the curl at the corners of his mouth falters, then slowly starts fall as he looks at them both, a realization dawning in his eyes. There’s a nervous clench in his jaw, which Robb can see tightening under his cheek. He looks at them as if he’s been faced with a pair of wolves, like he’s deciding how to back away with their eyes still on him, how to be careful and not draw their attention closer---like he’s waiting for them to descend upon him, leaping to attack.
Robb can’t help but grin.
Part Two || Part Three
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire/Game Of Thrones
Pairings/Characters: Jon Snow/Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Rating: NC-17
Words: 15,300
Warnings: Incest, double-penetration.
Summary: Modern AU. It's Jeyne's birthday and Robb and Jon make sure she doesn't forget it.
Notes: Written for scorpiod1 for the asoiafkinkmeme. This is a highly ridiculous, lengthy Porn-Without-Plot that has really no excuse for being so long. Strongly enabled by scorpiod1; this is all her fault, so blame her.
They shouldn’t be doing this, not here---Robb grins lazy and flippant at the cab driver when he catches his glare in the rearview mirror---but it makes him feel brazen and delirious, feeling Jon and Jeyne against him, their limbs tangled together in a human knot, the three of them making out in the backseat of the cab like horny teenagers.
Or maybe that’s the alcohol, making him warm and loose-limbed and overly affectionate.
Robb holds Jeyne against him as Jon presses her closer, her back to his chest with his hand resting against her stomach, rising and falling with it as she breathes into Jon's mouth, clutching at his hair, the both of them half in his lap as they kiss. Robb remembers the fierceness of her kisses, feeling them still aching on his lips as he licks over them (Jeyne's a biter and she bites at Jon's mouth now, something he hadn't known from their first kiss---gentle, almost hesitant, half an accident, until it wasn't, until he kissed back, holding her face in his hands when she cut her teeth on his lips as she climbed into his lap and pushed him against her couch, together before he had even realized they were).
The volume on the radio increases, 90’s soft rock battling with sighs and moans, trying to mask the sounds they’re making, but Robb can hear them---the soft whimper in Jeyne’s throat when her shirt sides up and his fingers graze her skin, his own choked gasp when Jon’s fingertips inch over the skin of his hip. Robb amuses himself thinking about what the cab driver’s face would look like if they started to tug at their clothes, peeling them away---the thought a dangerous one, growing and mutating and he’s not sure how much time they have, not sure if he cares, but Robb can’t bring himself to look away from Jeyne and Jon to look out the window to check how much longer until home (he likes the way they look when they kiss, when they touch, two pieces of himself sliding into place and fitting together, smiling against each other’s mouths).
Jeyne breaks with Jon’s mouth and Robb feels his lips over his own, distracting him as Jon’s tongue curls inside, and he wants to hold tight, wants to be closer---
But he wouldn’t, not here. He likes showing them off, flaunting them, telling the world they’re his in his own secret ways, but it would almost feel like sharing to let someone see and Robb doesn’t share (only with them, but that doesn’t feel like sharing at all). Robb thinks the anticipation is making him dizzy and wound-tight, fogging his mind---we’re almost home, he thinks, not sure how he knows, just a feeling in his limbs.
They nearly fall off the seat when the cab stops suddenly outside their house, lurching forward together yet balancing precariously with Jon’s hands grappling on Robb as their teeth clack together, pulling away quickly as Jon holds them together, keeping them steady and seated. Jon and Jeyne untangle themselves from him as they both stumble from the cab, while Robb turns to the cab driver, grinning over his shoulder while he fishes money out of his wallet. The cab driver takes the money Robb passes through the window without looking at him, then Robb slides out of the backseat, shutting the door behind him when he feels pavement under his feet.
He turns back on impulse, catching his gaze. “It’s her birthday!” Robb announces to the cab driver, throwing his arms up as the man shakes his head, peeling out of their driveway with a squeal of his tires and speeding away.
Jeyne laughs, high and bright, and she doesn’t stop as grabs his wrist, her other hand twining through Jon’s. “Come along, boys.” Jeyne grins at them over her shoulder, flashing her teeth in the dull light of the street lamps as she tows them behind her.
Once inside, with the front door barely closed, Robb shoves Jeyne up against the wall as he holds her hips, hearing the way her laughter bleeds into a gasp when he ducks his head and grazes his mouth over her throat, when his hand moves to press against her front. Robb hears Jon kick the door closed through the sound of Jeyne’s sharp breathing, hot on his ear as his fingers slip under the band of her jeans, rubbing at the skin of her stomach, skimming lower as her body rolls under his, trying to move his hand where she wants it to go.
His teeth nip at her skin when he feels Jon spread across his back, warm and loose and heavy, pressing them all closer together as his mouth brushes across the back of Robb’s neck, hands exploring under his clothes, until Robb jerks into Jeyne, his hand slipping against her, feeling her wet on his fingers as Jon’s hand wraps around his cock. Jeyne arcs into his touch, grinding her hips down on his hand, her moan becoming his whine, Jon’s fingertips stroking lightly over his length as Robb feels his mouth curve against his neck.
“The bedroom,” Jeyne says, choking on a breath as Robb experimentally runs a finger up and over her clit. She pulls his hand away, out of her pants; Robb grins when she bites down on the moan that nearly escapes her lips at losing the sensation. “Now.” Her eyes are firm, commanding, but there’s a wicked edge in her gaze as she nudges him off of her.
Jon leaves him hard and aching when he lets go, peeling himself off his back as he tugs Robb away from Jeyne by his shoulders, letting her slip from her grasp as she dashes down the hall. They glance at each other, before following closely behind.
“So where are my presents?” Jeyne asks, when Jon and Robb reach their bedroom. “I don’t see them anywhere.” Jeyne looks at them both expectantly (her lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed and hair a mess---but not enough, Robb decides, not nearly enough), then turns around on unstable legs, glancing around their room with searching eyes.
Robb watches Jon’s face from over Jeyne’s shoulder, the slightest flicker in his eyes as he moves closer, the barest hint of a grin on his face as he herds Jeyne up against Robb (he can read even the smallest of Jon’s tells, the way he schools his face to only convey what he wants Robb to hear; it’s useful, even here, when their prey is much easier to ensnare). Jeyne melts against his front, pliant and still buzzed, Jon pressing her further from behind with his lips at the nape of Jeyne’s neck and his hands around her waist. Jeyne tilts her face to meet Robb’s with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as his hands rest on the curve of her hips. She moves in until until she has her lips on his and Robb can taste the vodka from her mouth, the lasting remnants of sour apple sparking on his tongue.
Jeyne pulls away and tries to twist around between them, but Robb holds firm to her hips, fitting himself more firmly against her, pressing her back against Jon. There’s a flare in her eyes, but she doesn’t stop grinning. She angles her head away from him instead, arching her head back and her hand coming up to curl under Jon’s chin, tugging him into a kiss from over her shoulder. Robb watches them as he feels her warm skin slowly revealed to his hands, Jon bunching up her shirt with his fingers at her waist, hands holding the fabric up as she bites at his bottom lip, her hand cupping around his jaw (sometimes with their faces angled toward each other, Robb thinks they look more related than he and Jon ever have, with their dark eyes and dark curling hair).
Robb hears Jeyne moan into Jon’s mouth, feels the sound of it creep over his skin and under it, quivering down his spine when he picks her up by the hips and grins, watching the way their mouths move together, smooth and practiced and comfortable, and wants to keep watching, a fondness bubbling up in his chest (they’re mine, Robb thinks, rubbing soft circles into Jeyne’s skin with his thumbs as she locks her legs around his waist, bringing him closer, drawing him towards them).
Jon breaks the kiss to tug Jeyne’s shirt off over her head as Jeyne lets him, moves with him, lifting her arms as Jon’s fingertips drag over her skin as Robb watches with a catch in his throat, his breath stuttering on it, loving the way they look when Jon peels Jeyne’s clothes off (it shouldn’t look normal, not as natural as it does, as intimate as it does). Robb slides his hands to catch her around her rib cage to keep her steady in the air, keep her balanced and working in tandem with Jon as Jeyne looks at him with bright eyes and hair mussed and tousled over her shoulders, as he thinks, so much hair, and wants to bury in face in it.
Robb ducks his head to kiss up the line of Jeyne’s collarbone, tasting leftover salt from the body shots earlier, the tequila and the lime, the dried sweat lingering on her skin. Jeyne made him dance with her, then tugged Jon out onto the floor after him, until she was dancing between them, laughing and spinning, creating new steps for three; he can still smell the club on her, but underneath he can smell her, smell Jeyne, the heavy woodsy scent on her throat and behind her ears, heated with the spice of cinnamon (she smells like Jon, the cologne he rarely uses, dabbed over her pulse points from the bottle she stole).
He feels her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him up with a sharp pain in his scalp. Jeyne kisses him softly, apologetically, then pulls away, her lips brushing his ear. “Kiss him,” she says, wrapping an arm around his back as she pulls back, her gaze tracking back towards Jon, biting down on her lip (Jeyne likes watching them kiss, likes to take them to bars and clubs and dare them to kiss in public as a thrill shoots through her, like tonight---Robb’s seen her eyes when she watches, intent and blown wide, breath quick because she’s the only one who knows, the only one who knows who they are in a crowd full of strangers). Jon catches Jeyne’s weight when Robb’s hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling his down to meet his mouth as he hears Jeyne’s inhale, feels the pinch of her nails as they dig into his shoulder over his shirt as Jon’s tongue slips inside his mouth with Jeyne pressed between them.
His lips drag against Jon’s jaw when he pulls back, smiling faintly as Robb’s hand drops back to Jeyne’s hip, feeling her pressing hot, open mouthed kisses up the line of his throat as her fingers work open the buttons of his shirt with teasing, agonizing brushes against his steadily bared skin. Jon’s hands slide up Jeyne’s torso, yanking down her bra and letting her breasts spill out into his hands as Robb feels his head grow light and a weakness in his knees starts to build at the sight (they’re hands not his own, but they could be, hands he’s known his whole life that tell the same story---he wonders if Jeyne can feel the difference in the calluses, the rough and smooth patches, if Jon holds her differently; he wonders if she can feel the scar the cuts across his palm, the one that matches Robb’s). Jeyne’s nipples pebble against Jon’s fingers as he rolls them against his thumb and she whines against Robb’s neck, her teeth biting at his skin, an addicting pinch that Robb pushes into as Jeyne’s hips roll against his and her back arches.
Robb takes a few wobbly steps back, directing them all towards the chair in the corner of their room; Jon follows, holding up the upper half of Jeyne’s body, his face buried against her neck. They move with ease, despite the alcohol burning through their systems, slowing their reflexes. They’ve done this before, stumbling together and tugging at clothes, and they’ve developed a rhythm, a knowing in the way they step; Robb knows how Jeyne will shift with Jon at her back, know the weight of her in his hands, knows the shape of her the way he knows the shape of Jon, their bodies worn down and curved to fit each other over time. Robb breathes out when he collapses on the chair and not the floor, Jeyne straddling his lap without a disaster.
Somehow in the relocation, Jon had flicked back the snap on Jeyne’s bra and Robb watches as it slides down her arms, until she untangles her arms from the straps and tosses it over her shoulder. Jeyne brings Robb’s hands to her breasts, molding his fingers to cup around her as she leans forward, pressing against his hands with a cocky grin as her head tilts until Jeyne is kissing him. She finishes working open his shirt, her palms brushing over his skin as her tongue curls against his. He feels Jon come to kneel at his feet and has to stave off the desire to tug him up, pull Jon against him, too as his hands run up Robb’s thighs until they divert towards Jeyne on his lap. When she pulls away, teeth tugging at his bottom lip until she lets go to take off Robb’s shirt, he spies Jon’s hands undoing the front of Jeyne’s jeans, rolling the material as far down as it’ll go.
Jeyne’s hips snap up, then rock down against him when Jon’s hand slips inside her underwear, the friction against his cock sparking up his spine. Jeyne’s hands grip his shoulders as she bears down on Jon’s hand, hips swiveling, demanding more, her body tense and in control, her eyes watching him, challenging him. Robb loves her like this, the commanding way she moves, the subtle shift in Jeyne’s features as she bites down on her bottom lip, moans trapped in her throat, holding back when she knows Robb wants to see her let go.
Robb smirks and turns away, locking eyes with Jon. “Tell me how wet she is,” he says. “Is she ready for us?”
Jeyne gasps out, face falling against his shoulder. “God, Robb,” she says.
Jon is silent as he pulls his hand out of Jeyne’s underwear and brings his fingers to Robb’s mouth, running them over his lips; Robb sucks them in, tasting Jeyne wet on his tongue, smelling her on Jon’s hand, licks her from his fingers. Jon’s face shifts, just slightly, opening up for a moment, looking raw and bare---no one else but Robb could tell, before he shuts down his features. Only the darkness in his gaze remained, a flush in his cheeks and the way Robb saw he was biting down on his lip, the clench in his jaw keeping his mouth closed, locking any sound he might make behind his teeth. Robb grins down at him and it feels like a challenge, a dare (he thinks, I’ll hear you before the night’s over, you’ll make a sound for me, cry out and beg for more). Jon’s fingers slip from his mouth and licks his lips.
Robb feels Jeyne’s eyes on him, weighty and piercing, and he turns to grin at her, too, catching the roll of her eyes. “Does that answer your question satisfactorily? Can we move on?” she asks, the tone of her voice cutting, but there’s a heaviness to her breathing, a shifting in her body, fluid above him, seeking contact. Her eyes are dark like Jon’s.
“I don’t know,” he says, grabbing Jon’s hand and laying it over her stomach, directing both their hands downward. “Maybe I need another taste.” Jon hides his face against Jeyne’s back as Jeyne snorts, brushing their hands away.
Robb feels her unbuttoning his jeans a second later, hissing through his teeth as his hips jerk up when her hand wraps around his cock, pulling him out as she leans forward, her lips brushing his. “Or you could just fuck me,” she whispers, twisting her hand around him, her head tilting to the side as she watches him. “Or maybe Jon can fuck me and you can watch.” A wolfish grin breaks out across her mouth when he whines, bucking against her.
“Come here,” Robb hears Jon say, his voice low, sending a tremor down Robb’s spine at the sound. Jon appears over Jeyne’s shoulder, his mouth at her neck as his hands wrap around her waist. Jeyne leans back against him, arching her neck and exposing her throat as her grip loosens and she lets go of him as Jon tugs her to him; Jeyne slips off his lap, rising to her feet, pulled along by Jon. They make his breath hitch with the way they move, with the sight of them pressed together, it's just enough to send his pulse racing.
Jon turns her, twisting her hips until they stand in profile in front of Robb, silhouetted in shadow with the lamp casting light behind them---curves and long lines and Jeyne’s bare skin against the cloth of Jon’s shirt. Robb thinks maybe they’ve wandered off course---this wasn’t a part of the plan, Jon isn’t supposed to tug Jeyne away from him, touching and kissing her like Robb’s meant to watch. Robb wonders if he should mind, if he should pull Jeyne back, but he doesn’t move, just curls his hands around the arms of the chair, waiting with anticipation buzzing underneath his skin, hot and itchy as he shifts in his seat, feeling like his pants even half-undone are far too much clothing to be wearing.
(He imagines how Jon will do it, fuck Jeyne---if he’ll spread her out across the bed and go at it slowly, steadily working her up to a fever-pitch, or press her against the wall and take her hard and fast, let her nails bite into his back, or pull her on top of him and make Robb watch as she Jeyne rides Jon with her back to him, unable to reach, unable to touch.)
Jon cups her face in his hands and Jeyne tilts her mouth into his, but Jon kisses her jaw instead, moving to her neck, licking along her throat as he moves downwards, kissing along the line of her sternum between her breasts. Jeyne’s hands weave into his hair, tangling in the dark curls and pulling to direct him to put his mouth to better use, but Jon stays his course, ignoring the peaks of her nipples and the whine in her throat, enduring the sharp tugs at his scalp. Robb doesn’t think he would be able to resist, his own fingers digging into the arms of the chair to keep seated, to keep from getting up and doing what Jon won’t, growing impatient of just watching when Jon won’t make an effort for a proper show.
Jon kneels at Jeyne’s feet, kissing over her stomach and then his eyes flicker towards Robb’s, holding his gaze as he rolls her jeans and underwear down over her hips and it dawns on him: Jon’s still playing the game. Robb grins at him as Jon’s lips curve against Jeyne stomach, pulling her jeans down her thighs as he moves lower. Robb shrugs out of his own pants, casting them aside and waits, anticipation thrumming through his veins like a caffeine spike, leaving him shaky and ultra-focused, unable to tear his eyes away, his breathing shallow and fast.
Her jeans pool at her knees when Jon presses his face between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, his fingers working her jeans lower, letting the material slide down her calves; Robb can see the way Jeyne’s hands clench in his hair, her hips rocking towards him, trying to angle Jon just right (Robb can feel her hands in his hair, a phantom grip, tugging like she holds onto Jon’s head; he can feel Jon’s hair slip through his fingers, memory playing tricks on his senses as he imagines himself in both places, familiar with both ends). She lets out a small cry, biting down on it before it grew louder, her teeth pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as a surge goes through her body, her back arched and hips rolling towards Jon when his tongue strikes out, licking up over her folds, swirling up inside her.
“Is he sucking on your clit, Jeyne?” he asks, aiming for a reaction, enjoying sight of the tremor that goes through her body, Jon working her over just like he taught him, hitting all the secret spots Robb showed him and how to apply pressure, how to make her lose control. “Tell me how it feels. Is he good?” Jeyne doesn’t respond, refuses to, but he can tell from the noises he makes, the ones she can’t easily cover up, the low, guttural moans that would almost become growls if she would open her mouth instead of chewing her lip raw. She presses Jon’s face against her with her hands holding tight to the back of his head, glancing over at Robb with hooded eyes and a taunting grin. Jon manages to get Jeyne to step out of her jeans in a heap at her ankles, moving on wobbling legs with hitching breaths as Jon’s tongue works over her.
Robb watches Jon shifts her around, herding her back with his tongue, her steps slow and unbalanced, but he holds her up, guiding her with his hand on her hip. Jeyne gasps out when Jon gets to his feet in a swift move, sweeping her off her feet and hitching her legs around his waist. Robb watches, squirming in his seat as impatience edges at him as Jon captures her open mouth with his, kissing her an urgency not in his steps. Anticipation threads through Robb’s body as Jon carries Jeyne the rest of the way to him and he reaches out as Jon unlocks her legs and Robb catches her by the hips. Jeyne clings to Jon with his hair still coiled tightly around her fingers, her teeth still biting at his lips as she kisses him, even as he lowers her down. Robb feels her hot and wet at the tip of cock as he angles her, hissing out when Jon’s fingers curl around the base of his cock, thumb stroking the underside as he shifts him. Jeyne cries out, her mouth breaking from Jon’s as she slides down the length of Robb, jerking with the surprise as he thrusts the rest of the way inside.
“Fuck,” she grunts out, rocking against him. “Fuck.”
“You did say you wanted me to fuck you,” he whispers in her ear, tracing the curve of the shell with his tongue, biting at her lope.
She rises up, twisting her hips as she thrusts down. “Shut up,” Jeyne gasps out.
Robb grins against her cheek. “You like it,” he says, just to hear the noise she makes at the back of her throat, then he cups her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching lightly as he bites at her shoulder. He feels Jon settle between their legs as running his hands up Robb’s thighs as he spreads them wider to make room for himself. “I know you do, just like you like Jon's mouth on you,” he tells her, trying to keep the hitch out of his voice when Jon breathes hot over where he and Jeyne are joined as his mouth descends.
He licks up the underside of Robb’s cock, shocking a cry out of Robb’s throat, feeling the rough slide Jon’s tongue instead of Jeyne’s slick cunt. She slips back down, clenching over him as tremor runs through her when Jon sucks her clit into his mouth. Robb feels his lips rub up against the base of his cock as Jeyne’s hands find Jon’s hair again. Robb works his hips underneath her as she curses under her breath, moving with him and pressing herself against Jon.
“Don’t touch yourself,” she tells Jon, her voice thick with a groan rising up in her throat, but direct, catching Jon’s hand before it drew near to the front of his pants. “I don’t want you to touch yourself until I say.” Jon obeys, his hands moving to grip Robb’s knees, his fingernails digging into Robb’s skin.
Robb whines against Jeyne’s neck when Jon’s tongue slips over him again when Jeyne rises up, lips sucking along the shaft of his cock, until Jeyne slides down over where Jon’s mouth had been; it’s maddening, distracting, sending hot spikes of pleasure through his limbs, pushing him to the verge and pulling him back, his heart pounding and bruising his ribs---his hand drops down to tangle in Jon’s hair beside Jeyne’s, tugging at his curls, hoping for mercy he’ll never give. Jeyne’s breathing matches his, shallow panting breaths broken up with hitches and moans, sharp cries when he moves just right inside her or Jon bites ever so gently, smoothing the pain away with a sweep of his tongue. Her heart keeps tempo with his, rapid and heavy, sounding like the beating of a bass drum in his head while her back sticks to his chest, sliding in places slick with sweat; they’re moving in tandem now, finding a rhythm that works, one that will bring them closer---he can feel it in the tightening of his muscles, the clenching of hers.
Jon keeps their legs open with his hands on Robb’s knees, Jeyne’s legs draped his thighs trying to close, to wrap around Jon’s shoulders, to push him closer; he moves in anyway, his mouth moving over her and over Robb (he can feel it constantly now, Jon’s lips and tongue and breath, working at the edge we’re they’re joined, making them both feel it). Their thrusts grow sharper, shallower, Jeyne riding him with quick shifts of her hips, angling her head to kiss him, catching the corner of his mouth and his chin, until he captures her mouth, kissing her as his fingertips rubbing circles against Jon’s scalp.
Jeyne cries into his mouth, biting down on his lip when she comes, her body convulsing and trembling against him, jerky spasms working up her torso as her cunt grips him tight. He follows her over with his face buried in her neck, masking the moan that comes out more like a growl, leaving him with a whimper; Robb comes with Jon’s mouth at his thigh.
Robb slips from Jeyne, slick and sticky and dripping, as he releases his grip on Jon’s hair, head foggy and feeling warm, feeling content as he lays his hand to rest over Jeyne’s stomach, curling around her with his cheek against her throat. She doesn’t sink into him, boneless and sated as she should, but rather she remains tense, a high keening whine escaping her lips. “Jon, god,” she gasps out, wriggling against him. “Stop.” Robb looks down and sees only Jon’s dark head still between Jeyne’s thighs, her legs draped over his shoulders as he holds her hips.
”That’s enough,” Jeyne says through clenched teeth and Robb realizes Jon is still licking her out, tongue dipping in between her hyper-sensitive folds, licking her clean. His cock aches between his legs and Robb feels dry, rubbed raw; it hurts, he can’t feel like this so soon afterwards, hot and peaking towards arousal at the sight of Jon licking up the remnants of his come from Jeyne’s cunt, seeing it on his chin when Jeyne pulls him away, a pink flush in his pale cheeks and his eyes blown-wide, tongue darting out over his swollen lips.
“Jesus,” Jeyne says, panting in Robb’s ear as her head falls on his and her body collapses against him as she drags her legs up and folds them against the arm of the chair. “Fuck,” Robb says, returning her sentiments, leaning up to kiss her sweaty temple.
Robb manages to grab a hold of Jon’s wrist and tugs him up by his arm. “Come here,” he says, latching onto the collar of his shirt when he gets near enough, pulling Jon down to him as he grins, a smug heat in his eyes. “That’s not playing fair,” Robb says, arching up to kiss him, tasting them all in his mouth. “That’s cheating,” he says when he breaks the kiss.
“Cheating?” Jon says, cupping Robb’s jaw, tilting his face to meet his mouth again. “Or winning?” Jon bites his lip when he lets go of his mouth, flashing his teeth.
“Is this a game?” Jeyne asks, winding her arm around Jon’s back, dragging him closer and nuzzling her face against his neck. “I thought this was my gift.”
Jon grins over her head, running the tips of his fingers down her spine, curling them in the ends of her hair; he’s smug, Robb realizes, satisfied even though he was still dressed, probably still aching in his pants, dripping and making a mess of himself. Robb thinks he would have gone mad by now, but Jon looks sated, content with an edge of amusement alight in his eyes. Is this a game? Robb thinks, curling his fingers over the collar of Jon’s shirt, tracing over his skin up through the hollow of his throat, what are you playing at? It feels like it’s all gone out of control, spiralling out of his hands as he loses his grip (was it ever that strong, anyway?), Jon chasing him with a challenge he shouldn’t rise to meet, but he was never smart enough to listen to that small, distant voice in his head telling him to stop, to think, telling him no, don’t do that.
(Sometimes he doesn’t think he was born with a conscience, leaving him warped and wired wrong---he never thought when he kissed Jon, he just did, like a reflex he never knew was there until the right nerve was hit. Sometimes he thinks he broke Jon’s, cracked it and kept applying pressure until it crumbled. He remembered Jon used to run, used to whisper the things Robb should have known himself, used to be the voice in his head, pulling him back---now Jon meets him head-on, no holding back, throwing himself against him like Robb once did to him.)
“It is your gift,” Jon says, breaking their gaze and lifting Jeyne’s chin, angling her head towards his with his mouth curved, less smug and more light, almost cheerful if it weren’t for the heat in his eyes. “We were just playing.”
“Well, it’s not fair I didn’t get a kiss,” Jeyne says, resting her forehead against Jon’s. “It’s quite rude, actually.”
“We’ll just have to rectify that, won’t we?” Jon says, close enough to breathe it out across her lips, then he pushes forward, slotting their mouths together like interlocking puzzle pieces. Jeyne wraps her arms around his neck, curling towards Jon, fitting her body to his as she slips off Robb’s lap, the pair of them hovering before him.
Robb likes the way they look together, pressed up and tangled, blurring lines that should be clear and distinct---his brother and his wife, kissing like that belong like that. Jeyne’s body is made up of lean lines and dangerous curves, covered in brown skin completely bare against Jon’s clothed body, striking to witness and the sight of it draws his breath in like a punch to his gut. He imagines what it must feel like, the cloth rubbing up against her sensitive skin, intimate despite the barrier, far more intimate than they should be. Robb wants to tear Jon’s clothes off so he can see his skin, too.
(Sometimes he thinks Jeyne should stayed away when she ran, that it would be better for her if she got out before he pulled her under. He remembers her face when she saw them, him and Jon too wrapped up and tangled in each other to be anything different, wide-open and devastated and paler than he’s ever seen her. He thinks he broke her then, when he couldn’t keep his mouth off Jon’s, couldn't keep his hands to himself, when she saw the part of him he never could quite shake. Resilient, adaptable Jeyne, she could make it anywhere, she didn’t need in the way he did---but she came back, wanting with hollow, determined eyes he can’t forget, wanting him and taking Jon and shedding off pieces of her rationale, bit by bit. She made herself fit between them, carved out a place for herself inside Jon and let him under her skin, then built new foundations they could all stand on. But Robb will always remember there’s something he cracked inside her, a fracture that never healed and only kept growing wider.)
Jeyne slides away from Jon, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as she crawls back over Robb, careful to make their skin rub in places as she moves up. Her hand curves around his cheek, holding his face as she leans in and he feels her breath, hot across the shell of his ear. “Jon is still hard,” she whispers, her thumb stroking over her cheekbone, her mouth dipping down to kiss his jaw. “You should take care of that.” Jeyne presses closer as he feels the scrape of her teeth against his skin. “I want to see you together,” she says, voice low and thick in his ear; there’s a hitch in her breathing, stuttering the deep inhales. “Please.”
Robb lets his face fall against her neck, nuzzling her skin as his stomach twists and his heart picks up, feeling heat rush to the surface of his skin. (He thinks, I did this; he watched her settle so comfortably into this, without him asking her to, fitting in like she had been there all along, wanting in the way he and Jon want---it should make him sick with guilt, but all he feels is a delirious sense of happiness, a contentedness settling in his bones.) “Okay,” he says, feeling shaky and wound up as he pulls away. “Okay.”
They turn towards Jon in tandem, feeling Jeyne shift around as Robb’s eyes lift to catch his gaze. Jon’s still smiling when he looks at him, but the curl at the corners of his mouth falters, then slowly starts fall as he looks at them both, a realization dawning in his eyes. There’s a nervous clench in his jaw, which Robb can see tightening under his cheek. He looks at them as if he’s been faced with a pair of wolves, like he’s deciding how to back away with their eyes still on him, how to be careful and not draw their attention closer---like he’s waiting for them to descend upon him, leaping to attack.
Robb can’t help but grin.
Part Two || Part Three