tooktheblack | for Dany [H&M]

Daenerys certainly didn't suffer from a lack of caretakers. If Jon wasn't catering to her every little whim, then Ghost was fetching things for her or curling up at her feet to keep them warm. It was sweet, and though she felt guilty that her lover was leaving their bed in the middle of the night to fetch her sweets, it was nice to let her men take care of her.

Snuggling into Ghost for warmth, Daenerys hummed sleepily and smiled against Jon's lips. "I don't sleep well without you," she murmured without opening her eyes. "You really don't have to go, love."

"Shh. I'll be back, don't worry. You should have what you want," Jon argued, grinning at her.

And he was back quick, relatively speaking, with chocolate and ginger tea and, amazingly enough, lemon cakes. It had been a productive trip.

Despite her claim otherwise, she did doze a bit while he was gone, with her head pillowed on Ghost's back, but she didn't sleep so deeply that hearing Jon come back didn't wake her easily. She sat up with only a little difficulty--it was hard for her to believe, sometimes, that she still had three months of pregnancy to look forward to--and smiled when he came into view. "I will have to think of some way to make it up to you, all of this sending you from the comfort of your bed just because I have a taste for chocolate truffles."

"I think you don't owe me anything but if you'd like to pay up, I'm not exactly saying no," Jon said, tugging his clothes back off before working on the arduous task of getting Ghost to budge up. He put the chocolates on her bedside table for easy reach.

"Ghost, floor. Now. Beds are for me, floors are for you." The direwolf looked annoyed and slunk back down to lay next to the bed, giving Jon room to actually slide in.

"Finally, back in bed."

Even though Daenerys had seen Jon undress a hundred times, she still enjoyed the sight of it, and she nibbled one of the truffles he'd brought her and watched him with a soft, sly smile.

"Poor love," she laughed, kissing the top of Ghost's head before he grumpily hopped off the bed. Still, having her betrothed back in bed with her was certainly worth the price of a grumpy direwolf, and Daenerys sighed happily as she snuggled in close to him. "And now all is perfect again."

"I would hope I was a better partner than the direwolf," Jon huffed, stroking out her long, pale hair. He loved her hair, it always looked like silvery moonlight streaming out over her shoulders and tonight was no exception to the rule.

"Enjoying the chocolates, then, Daenerys?"

"Yes, you do, even though your fur isn't nearly as soft," Daenerys teased, running her fingers through the bit of scruff on his chin and jaw. It wasn't a complaint, not at all. There was nothing about Jon's face or body that she didn't find desirable.

"They're lovely, though I'm pacing myself so that I don't devour all of them one after the other." She drew him in closer and kissed him, the taste of those chocolates still clinging to her lips and tongue. "It helps that you are distracting me."

"I could distract you a good bit more, my queen, and you might forget all about the chocolates in favor of something else."

Jon wasn't sure what it was, exactly, about the changes in her body that drove him to desire her even more than usual but they had. The soft curves, the knowledge that she carried his son - it all made him burn for her in a way he'd never needed a woman before.

"Yes, you could. It is a singular skill you possess, driving me to constant distraction."

Why they were talking in metaphors, she wasn't sure, except that the teasing was really quite fun. It was one of the many things that Daenerys loved about being with Jon, how much lighter her heart was around him. He made her feel her age again in so many ways, instead of so much older than her sixteen years.

"As it happens, I find I am craving my husband-to-be more than anything else, just now."

Daenerys, too, made Jon feel like a young man again instead of being weighed down with the heavy mantle of the Lord Commander. It was something he cherished about being with her and hoped that it would always continue.

"Funnily enough, I crave my wife. Come kiss me, then?"

"Your kisses become more difficult to obtain with each passing day," Daenerys teased with a soft smile, laying a hand across her growing stomach and sliding the other hand into his hair. They'd adjusted, though, even if they didn't fit together as well as they once had, and she tugged him in and angled so that she could kiss him properly.

"I blame the child," Jon said, kissing her deeply even if the angle was awkward. "But I can't help but love him all the same. He's growing strong, Daenerys. I'll bet he turns out all Wolf and no Dragon, at this point. He seems fiesty, though, and that's Targaryen blood."

"He will be strong," Daenerys agreed, gently pressing Jon onto his back and pressing slow, soft kisses to his chest in an unhurried downward path. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and she left it be, let it trail over his skin with her every movement. "Strong, fierce, tall and handsome. Like his father."

"But have the fire of his mother, too," Jon said, one hand sliding up to thread in her long, silvery hair. He loved it, loved how long and silky it was and how it made her look like something so beautiful that she wasn't quite real; Jon still didn't understand why, exactly, Daenerys Targaryen loved him but he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I have never loved anyone or anything like I love you."

He never saw himself properly, her wolf. He never saw his own worth and beauty. She did her best to show him, every day, that she valued him. Saw him.

"No one has ever loved me as you do," she breathed against his skin, brushing her lips over the lean, sculpted plane of his abdomen and feeling the muscles shift and play beneath her touches. She lifted her head for just a moment to meet his eye, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "And no one has ever loved you as I love you, Jon Snow. Do you know that? Do you feel it?"

"I'm starting to," Jon admitted. The way she looked at him sometimes, it felt like having the sun turned on him full force and felt like that, for a little while, the ice that flowed through his veins had thawed just a bit. She was good for him.

"I've never been with anyone who was so devoted to me. It's hard to accept, sometimes, because it's not something I've had a lot of in life."

"Then you will have to try harder to accept it." Daenerys pressed a kiss against his hip, ran her nails gently across the insides of his thighs, taking her time with working her way downward, both to settle comfortably with the burden of her growing stomach and to tease and pleasure her beloved wolf. "I am yours. Your wife, even if not yet by law, in practice. And you are mine, my husband, my love."

"Queen of my heart," Jon said softly, and didn't care if it sounded silly. She was in queen in every way he could imagine even if she didn't have a drop of noble blood. As it was, he was glad she had just enough of the Targaryen madness to want him.

"Show me, then? How you feel?"

"Every day," Daenerys promised him, and lowered her head to take him in her mouth, without shyness or hesitation. It was a skill that Doreah had taught her years back, when it had been both her duty and her brother's demand that she please her husband and make him happy. Now there was no duty or demand, nothing but her own desire to pleasure her lover.

It was something that Jon had often enough from Ygritte but none since then until Daenerys and there was something to be said about a woman who genuinely enjoyed the act. Ygritte had and his wife certainly did but he'd heard from his other brothers that whores, generally, did not, unless the gold was flowing.

And a lady wife? Never. Daenerys was apparently an exception there. He gently ran his hands through her hair, stroking and petting but never pulling.

Daenerys hummed quietly in approval as she drew him deeper into the wet heat of her mouth; she did so love the feel of his fingers sifting through her hair. She wouldn't have minded it if need had pushed them to tighten and twist, not really, but the softness, the tenderness between them, it was one of the many reasons she couldn't stand the very thought of losing her wolf. Not ever.

She lifted her gaze to watch him through the errant strands of her hair, all of her focus on his pleasure and her desire for him to feel her love, her devotion to him, to convey her ever present need to have him at her side, both in their bed and out.

Her eyes, always a favorite of his, were enough to push him over the edge and find release. It was easy to pretend sometimes that she was some woman from Lys that he'd rescued from the pleasure houses or a pretty Lannister bastard but not when he saw those Targaryen eyes. Nobody had eyes like that except the princess and it always struck him, full force, that he was in bed with the Dragon.

"My queen, my beautiful queen. I love you."

There was a surge of triumph to hearing the sounds he made, tasting his release on her tongue. Daenerys never forgot the stories that Doreah had told her, of the moon that wandered too close to the sun's fire and gave birth to dragons, or of the Lyseni courtesan that could finish a man with nothing but her eyes, which came to mind now. She doubted such a skill truly existed, but maybe there was some trace of truth to the tale.

She coaxed every sound and spasm from him that she could, and when he was spent she gently tugged his hands from her hair and kissed his palms. "I love you, my sweet wolf."

"And I love you, my dragon queen," Jon said softly, voice still rough from arousal and release. He toyed with her hair as he came down because he loved it, loved the way it spilled silver over his chest and abdomen.

"You can never cut this, you know. Never."

Daenerys smiled happily and tucked in against his side as close as her belly would allow, pillowed her head on his chest.

"If my lord husband wishes my hair to fall all the way down to my backside, then so it shall," she teased, snuggling in and kissing his chest. Really, she just liked referring to him as her husband. "As a khaleesi, to cut my hair would symbolize a defeat. So, I will simply never allow myself to be defeated."

"You have, in fact, conquered me," Jon said, plucking one of the braids in her hair between his fingers and looking at the little bell. "Is that from the Dothraki, then? These little braids and bells in your hair?"

"It is." Daenerys closed her eyes and hummed softly, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his fingers playing through her hair. "Every bell is a victory. I have earned three."

She lifted a hand and touched each of the three bells in turn. "The House of the Undying. Astapor. And Meereen."

"You should add another. You've conquered the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon teased gently. "And the North itself, truth be told. Nobody could stand in the way of such heat and beauty and deny you anything. And, once our son comes, you'll have conquered your loss in the past. That means something, doesn't it?"

"Jon, it means everything." Daenerys lifted her head, wriggled and stretched until she could kiss his lips lightly. "But I don't believe it counts, as I am as much the conquered as the conqueror. If anything I should surrender one of my bells to you."

"You should, then, and let me wear it," Jon decided, giving her a slow, soft smile. "Because you have conquered me and I have conquered you. I hear that here in this village, a man and woman exchange rings at marriage. I would rather exchange bells with you instead."

"Yes, I've heard of the same tradition." Daenerys tilted her head thoughtfully, her own smile blooming slowly. "I think I like that idea, very much. It would something that's...ours. It would not be a tradition borrowed from those that came before us, it would just be ours."

She lifted her hand to run her fingertips along a lock of his hair. "I believe you'll look quite fetching with a braid."

"You think? I'll have to get you to do it for me," Jon decided, laughing a little. "Because I don't think my fingers are nearly as clever as yours." Nor as clever as her mouth, but that was a different story. His smile slid darker, more wicked.

"Let me bring you pleasure, my queen?"

If not for the suggestion that distracted her from it, Daenerys would have disagreed with his proclamation: she thought he had very clever hands, very clever indeed.

"Only a foolish woman would turn down such an offer," she murmured, flushing and turning her head to nuzzle his skin. "And I am not a fool."

"Daenerys," Jon breathed, easing her back to the bed so he could spend some time merely touching and worshiping her body. He knew that in many ways, he was different from most men; Ygritte had implied that most took without a thought to the woman's pleasure. Jon felt differently. He felt it was a partnership, something to be shared.

"How am I so lucky?"

"I think we were both fortunate to come here, to find each other." Daenerys ran her fingertips lightly through Jon's hair, shivering and sighing and thoroughly enjoying just being touched. He was such a tactile lover, her wolf, and she loved the feeling of being wanted for no other reason than that she was herself.

"You are so precious to me, Jon."

Jon slid between her legs, kissing one of her thighs as he thought. She was so beautiful, his dragon queen, and he intended to show her how much he loved and adored her, if he could.

"My mouth, then?"

Daenerys giggled softly as the touches, the kisses and the scrap of his beard against her skin tickled some. "If you'd like," she whispered in reply, playing her fingers through his hair with gentle, steady drags. "As you should already know that I do."

"I always like," Jon promised, tongue dragging a slow line along one thigh. She was so beautiful and sometimes, a lot of the time, he was not worthy of it

"I love you, Daenerys."

"Oh--" Daenerys gasped softly, torn between giggling again and whimpering. Her wolf was always keeping her on her toes in some way. "Oh, that was...lovely."

She sighed, and ran her fingertips along the shell of his ear. "I love you, Jon."

Jon didn't answer in words, opting instead to cover her with his mouth and tell her that way. Before coming here to the village, he got the sense Daenerys hadn't had much in the way of affection and care and Jon always wanted to be that for her, to be what a husband was meant to be.

He wasn't wrong, but Jon made Daenerys feel cared for in every possible way, loved, cherished, and protected. What they had between them was special, sometimes she believed no one else in the world could hope to understand it or could ever dream of having something equally as precious. He was so singular a man, her wolf.

"Jon," she breathed, and slid her hand out of his hair to find his and twine their fingers together.

No, no words needed for that when his mouth could be set to other things and he merely devoted himself further to the task, lips and tongue doing what they could to bring her pleasure. It was more difficult now that Daenerys' body had changed shape, true, but Jon enjoyed the challenge.

He imagined that no wife in Westeros was as cared for as his Dragon Queen.

Release was always so sweet and so lovely like this, because Daenerys always forgot the rest of the world entirely. There were no wars to fight, no kingdoms to claim or to rule, no strange magic; the world narrowed to just her and her wolf. Jon made it easy and safe for her to be only herself, safe to be weak and spent in the aftermath.

"Sweet gods, Jon," she gasped and moaned, wriggling and quaking with pleasure until she could take no more. "Gods, I love you so."

Jon finished with a messy kiss to the inside of her thigh and came to lay next to her.

"And I, you, until the end of my days."

Daenerys hummed contentedly, tugging his arm around her. Her skin tingled, so that even the lightest of touches nearly made her shiver. "Only until then?" she murmured teasingly, her voice drowsy and low.

"And beyond," Jon said, just as hazy and drowsy as she sounded. "Past...everything. Undying. Always you, Daenerys, always you."

for Dany [H&M]

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