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Daenerys knew the North very well by now, as much as she knew it wasn't hers.

She'd spent practically her whole life in Winterfell, under Lord Eddard's -- protection? Care? Watchful eye? Possibly some combination -- and truly, she was grateful of it. Surely her life could have taken other, less civil turns: exile, perhaps, or being killed like the rest of her family. She wasn't a Stark, she had always known she didn't quite belong, but she was looked after by the Starks, this for reasons she was only just beginning to understand. (It fascinated her that not killing children was considered a matter of politics and not of basic decency, but then, she was only a young girl, she wasn't meant to understand these things.)

It wasn't uncommon for the once-princess to seek out privacy and quiet when her day's work was done. She'd been a striking girl and she'd grown into an even more striking woman, and even despite the whispered worries about her lineage, she had always received a great deal of attention; she was as good and polite as she could be when approached, but this tendency to run off and hide, though not entirely ladylike, stemmed from a desire to avoid such attention. She often retreated to the godswood, though not from any particular religious inclination so much as that she knew it was unlikely she'd be disturbed there, at least by anyone who wasn't welcome to disturb her.

Today's earlier raven from King's Landing, though innocuous enough, had sent Daenerys into a mood: carefully disguised, hardly noticeable to most, but nonetheless one she felt she needed to be alone, or mostly alone, to sort through. If anyone were to look for her, or just to stumble across her, they'd find her in the godswood, bundled in a cloak and deep in thought.

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"Believe me, I do." But then Jon sees the expression on her face and the implication registers. His eyes go wide because just the idea that she would consider it, let alone have a look of anticipation about it is enough that he's swelling even more quickly in her grip.

He groans loud and long. There's lightning and fire coursing all through him, and they haven't even started doing it yet. "As much as it would be heaven to have you do that some more... I'm ready again." Which is an understatement. He's seen bars of iron in the blacksmith's shop less rigid.

There's no reason in her mind that she wouldn't consider it, look forward to it. She wants to know his body as intimately as he's quickly learning hers, it's fair and appealing both. She hopes he's excited about it too, but then she's got all the proof she could need that he is.

"Good," she murmurs, but her hand doesn't yet leave him. She's waiting for him to prompt her, really. "Good, because I -- I need you."

If there's something Jon knows he should remember, it's that Daenerys Targaryen is not and never has been like other women, and so he really should stop being surprised about things like her interest in pleasing him. The fact that they're... whatever they are... was a big enough surprise to start with.

"I need you, too," he whispers. "And as far as I have a say in it, you'll always have me, Daenerys." Jon shifts back into position, stretching out above her, with his cock pressed between her legs. He reaches down and between his hand and hers, Jon finds himself at her entrance and slowly begins to press inside.

The other thing he should remember is that he, Jon Snow, is not and has never been like other men. Not in the ways constantly being held over his head -- those don't mean anything, as far as Daenerys is concerned. But he's not crude and harsh and selfish, he's caring, he looks out for others, why wouldn't she (or anyone else, but anyone else doesn't matter right now) care for him and want him?

She moves her hips to meet him, smiling encouragingly; all her nerves are vanished, have been since that first exquisite high was reached. "Always," she repeats. "I like the sound of that."

It's a bit of slow going-- part because Jon is just overwhelmingly concerned about not hurting her and part because this is their first time and, well, Jon would leave it at the idea he's never been so happy to be squeezed so tightly. But his efforts have definitely eased the way and soon enough, he's sheathed completely inside of her and it takes his breath away.

He's never felt so warm and so wanted. He's never felt this kind of affection wrapping itself around him, and all those feelings are being doubled and increased by the sheer physical sensation of being inside of a girl for the first time. When his head stops spinning a little, Daenerys' words register with him and he smiles. "Yeah, I do, too."

Jon knows he's filling her. He must be considering how she feels around his length. "Are you all right?"

It's slow, impossibly slow; there's a part of Daenerys that feels almost like telling him to hurry it along, though she knows he's going carefully out of consideration and that she'll likely be thankful for it. The second he starts to enter her, though, she starts to feel impossibly needy, her heart's going even faster, she wants him to hurry and take all the time in the world and never, ever stop.

It's a strange feeling, having him inside her like this, but it's -- it's a good strange, like now they're just that much more together. "I am," she assures him, holding his gaze and nodding very determinedly. She isn't sure how to ask for what she wants, she's not even sure what it is, but she settles for rocking her hips against his, hoping he'll keep it up.

It feels good. Amazing, fantastic, unbelievable... all words that just seem too small for what Jon's experiencing, and somehow it seems to not just be the fact that he's buried inside of Daenerys-- it's the way she looks at him and holds him and how very badly he wants to always be this close and this connected.

Jon finds that he understands now why so many of the men's stories of sex describe it as fast and hard and rough. It's taking strength for him not to chase the sensation with abandon, disregarding his lover's needs and comfort. But he can't, not with her gazing up at him as she is. Now that they've settled, he starts to move against Daenerys and the good becomes incredible.

Daenerys hasn't heard a terrible lot about what it actually feels like; she's overheard bragging and innuendos, but no real descriptions. Maybe there isn't a good enough way to, or maybe it feels different for some people, lots of people don't get to lay with someone they feel this -- this connection to. That must be it.

The absolute instant Jon begins moving, though, Daenerys keens, her hands traveling up and down his back. She bites her lip, getting used to the rhythm of him and the way he fills her.

Jon's eyes close almost immediately as soon as he's moving, because the sensation of stroking inside of her is overwhelmingly good. He could be connected this way to her pretty well forever, as far as he's concerned. Between the heat and the wet and the pressure of her around his length, he's certain he's found heaven.

He opens his eyes, though, when Daenerys makes a sound he's never heard before, immediately praying that it was a good one, as he's been moaning and groaning quite a bit already. A look into her eyes reassures him and he presses against her some more, making his gasp out her name.

It's more of that instinct that tells her to move with him, to arch her back and push her hips against him like she had when it was his mouth working at her, and so she does. She wants little more than to bring him the kind of joy he's already brought her.

When he says her name like that, she's sure she's going to, and though they keep moving like this, their bodies quickly learning each other's patterns, she brings his face to hers so she can kiss him, swallowing his sounds greedily.

Admittedly, Jon had been a little bit worried about the prospects of two virgins getting together being able to end up with a result that was satisfying for the both of them, but as it was turning out, having not a lot of preconceived notions about sex was helping things along. For instance, he'd never have thought of Daenerys moving with him, their bodies rising and falling in rhythm. But with the way that feels, it has to be massively better than if she were simply lying there and taking it.

As the sensations intensified down there, so did their kisses. Jon's tongue swept inside of her mouth, tasting her and teasing her. "Gods... Gods, you feel so good, Daenerys."

Daenerys hasn't given too much thought to the act in any context, really. It wasn't a thing that nice ladies spoke of, and what innuendo she'd overheard -- well, she tried not to pay that much mind. She understood the basics, but that the rest was shaping up to be rather something her body could figure out in the moment, something their bodies could figure out together, that was really rather beautiful, she thinks.

And she did know that the reason, or one of the reasons, she'd chose to lay with Jon was that with him, she wouldn't want to just take it. She'd want to participate.

Her tongue meets his, her mouth twists up in a smile, her hands trace up and down his back. "You, too," she murmurs (this dirty talk business is going to take a bit longer, she thinks). And then, with a glint in her eye, she moves one of his hands to her breast.

Kissing Daenerys was-- well, he couldn't fairly say it was his most favorite thing in the world, not anymore-- but it was still pretty amazing, and he was sure it always would be. It was almost disappointing when she moved back from him, but that ended quickly. Jon gently caressed her breast, and even chanced to give it a slight squeeze.

"I know I sound like such a man, but I really do love these," he said, not really able to keep from laughing softly.

And with all that, they still moved against each other, the pleasure washing over him like waves.

Daenerys joined in his laughter, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you might," she replied as lightly as she could, arching up a bit as if in an invitation for him to play more.

The feeling of his hand at her breast combined with that of him inside her was, she thought, one of the most splendid things she'd ever experienced, and she moaned at it unashamedly, leaning to press her mouth against the skin of his shoulder.

As they continued to move and writhe together, Jon's explorations continued. After a bit, he craned his neck downward some to take the rosy tip of Daenerys' breast into his mouth, suckling it gently and marveling at the way it tightened under his lips. "I'd like to spend a very long time finding out all the things that make you feel good," Jon mused.

And even though it wasn't likely they'd have very much of that time, it was a very pleasant thought indeed. He groaned again while warmth continued to grow and swell in his belly as he stroked inside of her.

The feel of his mouth on her anywhere has been almost too much for her -- a good too much -- but that is one of the most wonderful sensations she can imagine at all. "I'd like that, too," she breathed, staring up at him with wide eyes. "And I'd like to learn all of the ways to make you happy, too." Reciprocity, that was the important thing.

They'd have to cram all of that exploration and learning into a very short time, but it was going to be the sweetest time. How couldn't it be, if it meant they'd be getting to feel like this so often?

Jon kissed her lightly, and then again, enjoying far more than he ever expected possible even those little gestures nearly as much as the pure wonder of being inside of her. "I promise to be a much better student at it than I am at my history and sums."

It was then he could start to feel things changing, quickening inside of him. There was a pressure starting to build in his belly that was familiar enough, but magnified so many times by the feel of Daenerys surrounding and holding him tightly. Feeling instinct urging him, Jon shifted his weight a bit forward, and he was deeper within her and he let out as long and shaking a groan as when he'd first entered her.

Daenerys couldn't help but smile into those kisses, though the smile turned a bit chiding at his comment. "I know I'll be, you're a -- a much more interesting subject," she declared, though she had to interrupt herself to let out a high-pitched sigh.

When he drove into her more and that sound fell from his lips, she matched it easily, dragging her nails across his back lightly and holding him in place. Yes, deeper, deeper was a feeling she very much enjoyed.

The scatter of shocks that ran down Jon's back as Daenerys' nails scratched down it was one of the most amazing sensations, one he'd never have predicted would cause so much pleasure despite smarting at the same time. But then, he supposed, they were both learning a great deal about pleasurable sensations.

Hearing Daenerys respond to his movements, Jon's instinct immediately drove him to continue in the same way, keeping himself as far within her as he could, stroking nearly his entire length with every rock of their bodies. "I think... I think I might be close, Daenerys..."

She'd thought once she'd done it to apologize, she hadn't meant to be so rough, she hadn't even thought she might be, but the look on his face meant that she stopped worrying at once, even chanced to do it again.

Every thrust of his hips sent tremors through Daenerys' body, warmth and craving and response. She hadn't quite reached the point he'd brought her to earlier, but it wasn't far off, either. "Take me," she breathed. "I want to feel you." Even more than she had already.

Jon nodded. Instinct had been threatening for the last few minutes to simply overwhelm his control, and now at Daenerys' words, Jon surrendered to it. His body seemed to him to move of its own will, his hips pumping solidly against hers, his length sliding in and out while the pressure deep inside of him grew and swelled.

His eyes were wide, locked on Daenerys and lost in her beauty and the feelings he read in her expression, even if he didn't fully understand them all. It was all too big, too much to contain. "Oh... Oh, Gods, Daenerys--" The dam burst, both inside of Jon's head and in his body as he climaxed.

Daenerys could sense the moment approaching, whether from the feel of him against her and in her or the look on his face or just some other intuition, and she felt herself open even more to him, felt herself approaching release herself.

She moaned upon hearing him say her name that way, grabbing at him and pressing fingers against his back hard, pulling him to her. "Jon, oh, Jon," she whispered in return, breath hot against his skin as somehow she found the strength in her to keep grinding her hips against him to reach her second climax. She thought it would be even more beautiful, and soon she could know it for a certainty.

She wouldn't stop moving beneath him, so somewhere in the back of Jon's mind where he was still able to think, he was determined to keep rocking his hips against hers, stroking himself inside of her even though it felt as if he'd poured all of his energy into her already.

Jon could feel her around him, tightening as she had before, and it was spurring him to continue even though his head spun. Searching for something solid to anchor himself to, his mouth found Daenerys', his breath mixing with hers.

Finally, after what seemed both like no time at all and an eternity, Daenerys felt release washing over her once more. Her cries this time weren't even so articulate as his name, just sounds, sounds that seemed to her like they came from somewhere outside of her body entirely, desperate sounds for Jon to swallow up.

Her hand slid to rest on the slight curve of his arse, holding and stilling his movements almost as if to assure him that it was all right, she was good, she was perfect. She could hardly move at all, but she managed that.

From that moment on, Jon knew he'd never be jealous of other, more experienced men. They'd told him that laying with a woman was a pleasure, that it felt good. He could not imagine they had ever experienced anything like he and Daenerys just had, otherwise they would have been singing songs and reciting poems. Being no kind of minstrel or poet, all Jon could do while quieting himself as Daenerys' moved him to was kiss her again gently and whisper, "Gods, thank you."

And whether he was thanking the Gods of Daenerys herself didn't matter. Jon agreed with both.