snackback: (game of thrones jon snow)
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touch me soft cool as ice
ASOIAF, Jon/Sansa, future-fic, R + L = J

Prompt fic, for this prompt: a sexy touch in a not necessarily sexy place. Requested by [livejournal.com profile] honey_wheeler



When Sansa visits the Wall, Jon takes her to the top at her request. He'd rather not, but he's found he can't deny her anything, not any longer. If he could, she wouldn't be here in the first place. She'd be safe at Winterfell, with Bran and Rickon and Arya, waiting for her husband to return.

But Sansa refuses to stay behind this time, and insists on accompanying him to the Wall. The first thing she asks, after settling in to the chambers Jon still kept at Castle Black, is to go to the top.

Jon tries to dissuade her. "You don't want to, not really."

"I do though," she says calmly, as she pulls on a thick pair of woolen hose.

"It's far colder up there."

"I'll wear the bearskin cloak, with the hood."

"Your face will turn to ice."

"I have this fine, warm scarf that Gilly made for me." She holds it up to show him, and Jon has to admit to himself, the blue will look lovely with her eyes.

"The winds are very strong. You could be blown away."

Sansa stands, wrapping the cloak around herself. "I will hold fast to your hand." She gives him her most winning smile, the one he is unable to resist. "Please, Jon. We came all this way, and I've never even seen the Wall before."

"You can see it well enough if we walk out the door," he grumbles.

"Please, Jon."

He gives in, of course, just as they both knew he would. As they take the long ride in the cage to the top of the Wall, he wraps an arm around her waist, and she leans her head against his shoulder. "Are you all right, my lord?"

"I'm fine, my lady." But there's something about being back at the Wall that unsettles him. He's no longer a man of the Watch, he has his lady wife by his side, but duties still call him back here from time to time. And when he's here, he remembers the boy he once was, and what happened to that boy, and there's something in Jon that makes him want to take Sansa and ride back home to Winterfell, as fast as he can.

But there are things he must attend to, and fleeing isn't really an option. So he keeps his misgivings to himself, and stays silent until they reach the top of the Wall. Sansa tucks the scarf more firmly around her neck, as she takes Jon's hand, and he leads her out onto the Wall.

"Oh my!" she gasps as the wind sweeps over them, and she clutches his hand tight.

"We can go back down," Jon offers immediately, but she shakes her head.

"No, we came all this way. And see, I am holding you fast." She lifts their joined hands, and gives him a smile.

Jon thinks Sansa is lovely all the time. But up here, at the edge of the world, with her cheeks pink, her hair catching in the wind, whipping around her face, and her blue eyes glittering like the ice of the Wall, she's more beautiful than he's ever seen her, and he's struck by the idea that he must kiss her, immediately.

But there are men around them, going about their duties, and she wouldn't think it proper. So he leads her along the top of the Wall, walking slowly, watching her face as she looks around, eyes wide in wonder.

"It's beautiful up here," she whispers, stopping to peer over the edge.

Jon tends to agree. It's always been beautiful, but now with Sansa here, it's even more so, and he can't resist kissing her a moment longer.

She gasps again as he presses her against the wall, blocking her the view of the men. "Is this why you agreed to bring me up here?" she asks, in between kisses. "So you could have your way with me at the top of the world?" But there's amusement in her voice, and she arches against him as he tugs the pretty scarf down low, so he can trail kisses along the soft white skin of her neck.

"No, but now that you've said it, it seems a rather good idea."

There's something wicked in her eyes. "Or maybe I should have my way with you, hmm?"

The shiver that runs down Jon's spine has nothing to do with the cold wind. "Sansa?"

"Thank you for bringing me up here, Jon," she says, her voice demure. She slides her hand between them, parting his cloak, and presses it against the front of his breeches, and it's Jon's turn to gasp. "But now I think you should bring me back down."

"S-so soon?" he asks, his voice a low groan as her hand works over him.

"I think it would be best. Or…"

"Or?"

"Well, I could always go to my knees right now, but I fear that the cold might be too much for both of us." She laughs as the wind catches hold of her scarf and it blows away, over the edge. "Oh dear! Gilly will be most upset, if I've lost her gift."

Jon nods and steps away from her, drawing his cloak around him once again. His cock aches, and he's as hard as the ice of the Wall, but his voice is mild when he says, "Well, we had best go down then, and see if we can retrieve it."

"What a good idea, my lord." Sansa grins at him, blue eyes shining and cheeks as red as her hair, as she takes his hand and tugs him back to the cage. "Let's hurry."

Jon has no idea what's gotten into her, but he rather likes it. Maybe he should bring her to the Wall more often.

On AO3

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