Fic: Fireflies [1/1]
Title: Fireflies
Author: luna_plath
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Jon/Sansa
Word count: 1,250
Warnings: sexuality
Summary: In which Jon is jealous.
“Here you go, sweetheart.”
Sansa took one of the margaritas her mother had just made, sipping from the salted rim and kicking off her sandals while fireflies glowed in the backyard. She heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
“That’ll be Bran,” her mom said. “I’ll be right back.”
This was the first weekend after her exams were completed and all she wanted to do was spend her time in painting clothes, mixing pigments and working on the commissions she’d gotten. Sansa had a job working for a local artist, but she’d be doing the less interesting work like stretching the fabrics and priming the canvas with gesso.
Hearing footsteps on the deck, her back to the door, Sansa called out, “I’m over here, Bran.”
“Sansa!”
Surprised, she turned around to see a reedy, sandy-haired youth that certainly wasn’t her brother.
“Tommen,” she said, standing up to give him a hug.
Beaming, he said, “It’s so good to see you. Bran didn’t say you’d be here tonight.”
“I got here early. I was supposed to be in tomorrow.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in for-ever,” he stressed. “I’m taking an art class at school-mom hates it but I’ve been doing some really cool drawings. I wish I had them with me, then I could show you.”
Sansa smiled at his enthusiasm. It had been two years since she’d dated Joffrey but she had nothing but good memories of his little brother and sister. Myrcella still left comments on her facebook, and each time it made Sansa sad that someone as horrible as Joffrey had to have such nice siblings.
Tommen asked her about school, her paintings, her job, but before Sansa could answer Ghost bound onto the deck, running straight for her and nudging his muzzle against her hip until she gave him her full attention.
“Whoa,” said Tommen, looking at the very large, pure white German shepherd. “He’s really big.”
“He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him,” Sansa said, crouching down and rubbing the dog’s belly.
Sansa sat down and Ghost planted himself at her feet, his blue, unblinking eyes trained on Tommen.
“Is he yours?” he asked.
“He’s mine.”
The both of them looked up to see Jon in the doorway to the porch, his keys in hand.
“I put your wood in the studio,” Jon said, taking the seat next to Sansa.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that! I could have carried it up myself.”
“I don’t mind.”
Sansa reached over and squeezed Jon’s hand, lacing his fingers with her own. Bran came outside eventually and the four of them talked until she’d finished her second margarita, her brain getting fuzzier the later it got.
Ghost looked at Jon and gave a soft whine.
“Aw, I think someone is sleepy,” she said, scratching the dog behind the ears. Each time he wagged his tail it thumped against the planks of the deck, but otherwise the dog was completely still, obviously tired out.
“I’m tired too,” Sansa confessed. She stood up, her hand still laced with Jon’s. “It was good to see you, Tommen.”
Jon and Ghost followed her upstairs. Once they reached the landing Sansa looked around carefully, pulling Jon into her bedroom by the front of his shirt instead of letting him retire in Robb’s empty bedroom.
“Sneaky,” he said, flashing her a smile.
Maybe it was the drinks she’d had earlier, but Sansa felt hot under her skin, her belly dropping low in her stomach when Jon placed his hands on her hips and walked her to the bed. His cheek pressed against hers, she could feel the stubble along his jaw, shivering at the feeling of his hands slipping under her T-shirt.
Feeling along his stomach, Sansa watched his face intently as she slid her hands over his chest. One of Jon’s dark curls fell in his eyes and she brushed it out of the way, standing on the tips of her feet so she could kiss him. He was a head taller than her and she loved the crush of their bodies when he would palm her ass and hitch her leg up, shortening their height difference. Jon sucked on her tongue, pushing her to the bed and tugging at the button on her jean shorts.
“Take these off,” he said, kneeling between her legs.
Half leaning on the bed, Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. She shimmied the clothing past her hips, trying to strip off her panties at the same time but Jon made her keep them on, his dark hair tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thighs while he kissed her through her underwear.
He reached up and pulled down the thin straps of her tank top and bra, exposing her breasts.
“Ah, that feels good,” she said, spreading her legs further.
Jon kissed her through the cloth of her panties, reaching up to tease her nipples. Sansa tried to ignore the restless aching between her legs, her hands fisted in the duvet, Jon’s fingers drawing slow circles over her hipbones. He pushed the cloth of her underwear aside and licked a long stripe along her sex, making her sigh and squeeze her eyes close.
Sansa dug her fingers in his hair, tugging at it while he brushed the edge of his tongue against her clit. She wanted to grind her hips against his face but one of Jon’s hands kept her anchored to the bed. He brushed his tongue over her again and again, only to pull away and kiss her thigh, making Sansa moan in frustration. He did this several times before she tried to reach down and touch herself, only for Jon to grab her wrist and press it to the mattress.
“You’re an evil man,” she whined.
He chucked before sucking on her clit in earnest, focusing all his attention on her little bud until she was paralyzed by the heady waves of her peak. Sansa held onto his arm so hard she was like to leave a bruise, wanting to hold him there until her body was too wrung out to move an inch. Her eyes closed, she barely noticed when he pushed her further onto the bed, scooting her closer to the headboard while he stripped off his clothes.
Jon helped her out of the tank top that was bunched under her breasts. Sansa wrapped her arms around him, shivering at the distinctive, delicious feeling of him inside her without a condom. He sighed heavily and buried his face in her neck, his hips moving quickly. She could tell that Jon was close, and she rubbed his back and dragged her nails over his spine while his rhythm grew faster. Jon pulled out and sat on his haunches, wrapping his hand around himself until he spilled on her belly.
Feeling the tension in his shoulders, Sansa smoothed the hair out of his face. He rolled onto his back while she cleaned up the mess on her stomach with a tissue.
She curled up next to Jon, her head pillowed on his chest, while they both cooled down.
A smile creeping onto her face, Sansa said, “You don’t like Tommen.”
“Hm,” Jon said. “He looks too much like his brother.”
Smirking, she propped herself up on her forearm. “I’ve never seen you jealous before.”
Blinking, he said, “I’m not jealous.”
Drumming her fingers on his chest, Sansa couldn’t keep herself from chuckling. “You’re not a good liar, Jon Snow.”
Fin.
Author: luna_plath
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Jon/Sansa
Word count: 1,250
Warnings: sexuality
Summary: In which Jon is jealous.
“Here you go, sweetheart.”
Sansa took one of the margaritas her mother had just made, sipping from the salted rim and kicking off her sandals while fireflies glowed in the backyard. She heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
“That’ll be Bran,” her mom said. “I’ll be right back.”
This was the first weekend after her exams were completed and all she wanted to do was spend her time in painting clothes, mixing pigments and working on the commissions she’d gotten. Sansa had a job working for a local artist, but she’d be doing the less interesting work like stretching the fabrics and priming the canvas with gesso.
Hearing footsteps on the deck, her back to the door, Sansa called out, “I’m over here, Bran.”
“Sansa!”
Surprised, she turned around to see a reedy, sandy-haired youth that certainly wasn’t her brother.
“Tommen,” she said, standing up to give him a hug.
Beaming, he said, “It’s so good to see you. Bran didn’t say you’d be here tonight.”
“I got here early. I was supposed to be in tomorrow.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in for-ever,” he stressed. “I’m taking an art class at school-mom hates it but I’ve been doing some really cool drawings. I wish I had them with me, then I could show you.”
Sansa smiled at his enthusiasm. It had been two years since she’d dated Joffrey but she had nothing but good memories of his little brother and sister. Myrcella still left comments on her facebook, and each time it made Sansa sad that someone as horrible as Joffrey had to have such nice siblings.
Tommen asked her about school, her paintings, her job, but before Sansa could answer Ghost bound onto the deck, running straight for her and nudging his muzzle against her hip until she gave him her full attention.
“Whoa,” said Tommen, looking at the very large, pure white German shepherd. “He’s really big.”
“He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him,” Sansa said, crouching down and rubbing the dog’s belly.
Sansa sat down and Ghost planted himself at her feet, his blue, unblinking eyes trained on Tommen.
“Is he yours?” he asked.
“He’s mine.”
The both of them looked up to see Jon in the doorway to the porch, his keys in hand.
“I put your wood in the studio,” Jon said, taking the seat next to Sansa.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that! I could have carried it up myself.”
“I don’t mind.”
Sansa reached over and squeezed Jon’s hand, lacing his fingers with her own. Bran came outside eventually and the four of them talked until she’d finished her second margarita, her brain getting fuzzier the later it got.
Ghost looked at Jon and gave a soft whine.
“Aw, I think someone is sleepy,” she said, scratching the dog behind the ears. Each time he wagged his tail it thumped against the planks of the deck, but otherwise the dog was completely still, obviously tired out.
“I’m tired too,” Sansa confessed. She stood up, her hand still laced with Jon’s. “It was good to see you, Tommen.”
Jon and Ghost followed her upstairs. Once they reached the landing Sansa looked around carefully, pulling Jon into her bedroom by the front of his shirt instead of letting him retire in Robb’s empty bedroom.
“Sneaky,” he said, flashing her a smile.
Maybe it was the drinks she’d had earlier, but Sansa felt hot under her skin, her belly dropping low in her stomach when Jon placed his hands on her hips and walked her to the bed. His cheek pressed against hers, she could feel the stubble along his jaw, shivering at the feeling of his hands slipping under her T-shirt.
Feeling along his stomach, Sansa watched his face intently as she slid her hands over his chest. One of Jon’s dark curls fell in his eyes and she brushed it out of the way, standing on the tips of her feet so she could kiss him. He was a head taller than her and she loved the crush of their bodies when he would palm her ass and hitch her leg up, shortening their height difference. Jon sucked on her tongue, pushing her to the bed and tugging at the button on her jean shorts.
“Take these off,” he said, kneeling between her legs.
Half leaning on the bed, Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. She shimmied the clothing past her hips, trying to strip off her panties at the same time but Jon made her keep them on, his dark hair tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thighs while he kissed her through her underwear.
He reached up and pulled down the thin straps of her tank top and bra, exposing her breasts.
“Ah, that feels good,” she said, spreading her legs further.
Jon kissed her through the cloth of her panties, reaching up to tease her nipples. Sansa tried to ignore the restless aching between her legs, her hands fisted in the duvet, Jon’s fingers drawing slow circles over her hipbones. He pushed the cloth of her underwear aside and licked a long stripe along her sex, making her sigh and squeeze her eyes close.
Sansa dug her fingers in his hair, tugging at it while he brushed the edge of his tongue against her clit. She wanted to grind her hips against his face but one of Jon’s hands kept her anchored to the bed. He brushed his tongue over her again and again, only to pull away and kiss her thigh, making Sansa moan in frustration. He did this several times before she tried to reach down and touch herself, only for Jon to grab her wrist and press it to the mattress.
“You’re an evil man,” she whined.
He chucked before sucking on her clit in earnest, focusing all his attention on her little bud until she was paralyzed by the heady waves of her peak. Sansa held onto his arm so hard she was like to leave a bruise, wanting to hold him there until her body was too wrung out to move an inch. Her eyes closed, she barely noticed when he pushed her further onto the bed, scooting her closer to the headboard while he stripped off his clothes.
Jon helped her out of the tank top that was bunched under her breasts. Sansa wrapped her arms around him, shivering at the distinctive, delicious feeling of him inside her without a condom. He sighed heavily and buried his face in her neck, his hips moving quickly. She could tell that Jon was close, and she rubbed his back and dragged her nails over his spine while his rhythm grew faster. Jon pulled out and sat on his haunches, wrapping his hand around himself until he spilled on her belly.
Feeling the tension in his shoulders, Sansa smoothed the hair out of his face. He rolled onto his back while she cleaned up the mess on her stomach with a tissue.
She curled up next to Jon, her head pillowed on his chest, while they both cooled down.
A smile creeping onto her face, Sansa said, “You don’t like Tommen.”
“Hm,” Jon said. “He looks too much like his brother.”
Smirking, she propped herself up on her forearm. “I’ve never seen you jealous before.”
Blinking, he said, “I’m not jealous.”
Drumming her fingers on his chest, Sansa couldn’t keep herself from chuckling. “You’re not a good liar, Jon Snow.”
Fin.