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Faith - northernlass49

Chapter 57

Sansa rearranged the pillows for the third time while Jon stood by with a bemused expression on his face.

“You know”, he said as she punched at a pillow, “we don’t have to do this tonight. In fact, we can wait until after the baby is born and Sam says it’s safe to resume relations”.

Sansa straightened up and pressed the palms of her hands into the small of her back, stretching backwards slightly. Then she turned to Jon looking crestfallen.

“You do not wish to share my bed tonight?” she asked as her lower lip quivered. “Do you find me that unattractive?”

Jon looked taken aback.

“Sansa”, he sputtered, “you know that is not what I meant. It’s just that you look exhausted and unwell”.

He moved in behind her and drew his arms around her shoulders. Then he pushed aside a lock of hair and kissed the side of her neck.

“I could never stop desiring you…you must know that by now”, he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

“Even though I’m the size of an aurochs and just as bad tempered?” she retorted.

He sighed and laid his chin on her shoulder and splayed his fingers across her belly.

“You look like the fertility goddess worshiped by the inhabitants of the Summer Islands”, he whispered.

She turned to him with a smile playing on her lips.

“And what do you know of the religious rites of the Summer Islanders?” she asked.

“Contrary to what you may have heard I do know things, Sansa”, he replied. “I read it about them in a book when we were children”.

“I don’t recall such a book in the library at Winterfell”, she said.

Jon looked slightly embarrassed.

“It was from Maester Luwin’s private collection”, he explained. “Robb and I used to steal into his study to borrow it from time to time”.

She arched one eyebrow.

“And besides the religious practices of the people of the Summer Islands, what else in the book interested you and Robb that the pair of you felt compelled to dip into this book repeatedly?” she asked, suspecting the answer already.

“Well, it did have rather splendid and detailed illustrations of scantily dressed women”, he chuckled.

Sansa appreciated his candor.

“My word, you were a naughty pair”, she said. “Did you ever get caught?”

“Aye”, he answered with chagrin, “Maester Luwin found us with it behind the stables when we were late for our lessons one day. He boxed our ears and shooed us off. But I swear, on our children’s lives, that he winked at us as he confiscated the book. And he never told your parents about our transgression.”

“For a few years I used to dream of traveling over the warm waters to the Summer Islands”, he continued as he ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms. “I would sail around the islands, making my fortune and marrying a dark haired girl with sloe eyes and ebony skin.”

“And why didn’t you?” teased Sansa.

“It was never in the cards”, he replied with a shrug and an exaggerated sigh. “Instead I was fated to remain in Westeros and marry a pale redhead with eyes like the sky on a clear day, who suffers from chilblains and loves to warm her cold feet on the small of my back”.

“Take me to bed, Jon”, she said as she elbowed him gently in the ribs, “before I change my mind”.

He helped her clamber on to the bed before joining her. While she propped herself up against the pile of pillows, Jon undressed and pitched his clothes to the floor. As he knelt on the bed, naked as the day he was born, he couldn’t help but notice the slight look of disappointment on her face.

“What?” he demanded, his arms akimbo and a frown creasing his forehead.

“Well, with all the tall tales being told of your prowess on the battlefield, I half expected you to have become more… enhanced”, she replied with a cheeky smile.

“My lady”, he said in mock indignation, “it is very unseemly for you to criticize a member of the Targaryen family for its perceived shortcomings. As I recall, little Jon has never failed to satisfy you in the past and will, I promise, continue to do so in the future. But, most importantly, what really matters, my lady, is not size but quality”.

He concluded his short speech with a brief, dignified bow while Sansa giggled hysterically. Then he dropped on to the bed beside her and reached for her hand.

“I’m pleased I can still make you laugh”, he murmured as he kissed her fingertips.

“Oh, Jon”, she said with a sigh, “you do manage to take me out of myself sometimes”.

He reached down to pick up one of her feet and proceeded to massage the sole. Then he switched to the other while Sansa relaxed and made contented sounds.

Jon continued to massage her legs, soothing her tired muscles, focusing on the backs of her knees where she felt the most pleasure. As his fingers traveled closer to her inner thighs, her breathing began to quicken. Then he dipped his head and gave the sensitive skin a lick. She moaned in appreciation and pulled her shift up higher.

He grinned and slipped his hands underneath her buttocks to give him greater purchase. When he dipped his head again he slid his tongue up further until he reached the apex of her curls. Then he paused.

“Don’t stop now”, she murmured happily.

He was relentless in making her feel boneless with pleasure. She hadn’t felt so light in several moons. She gripped the furs tightly to ground herself, fearful she might float away at a moment’s notice.

He hovered over her, the love shining in his eyes, when she came for the second time. She felt his hardness against her thighs and she looked at him with concern.

“How are we…?” she started to ask. He shook his head.

“We don’t have to”, he replied as he sat back on his heels.

She struggled to sit up, grabbing his forearm to provide leverage.

“Oh, yes we do”, she said with determination. Huffing with exertion, she turned herself around until she was resting face forward into her mountain of pillows.

“Jon…are you still there?” she asked, her voice muffled. She heard him chuckle.

“I’m still here, sweetheart”, he replied.

She reached behind to guide him in. Within minutes, she felt him gasp as he reached his climax and then lean panting against her back.

They soon fell into a restful sleep with Sansa surrounded by her pillows and Jon snoring peacefully on the far side of the bed.

Sansa woke up in the middle of the night, plagued by the need to make water. She shuffled across the cold stone floor towards the privy. But before she could reach the door she felt some moisture trickle between her legs. She uttered an oath and cursed her weakened bladder, sopping up the moisture with the hem of her shift.

She turned towards the wardrobe to grab another garment to wear when she felt more moisture gush between her legs, soaking her shift and puddling on the floor around her feet.

“Jon”, she croaked. There was silence.

She cleared her throat and spoke louder.

“Jon”, she cried out more sharply. She could hear him jerk awake and see him sit up in confusion.

“Sansa?” he said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“The baby’s coming”, she gasped as she doubled over in pain.

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