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It is truly a lovely way to spend an evening.
Val is no stranger to pleasure. Even before she’d been wed to Jon in all but name – spending her evenings and mornings and often her days in his bed – she’d had other partners. Freefolk were not near so precious about coupling as kneelers. Val had first lain with a man when she was but 14, and there had been men since, as well as some women, and she’d experienced a great many pleasurable things. But lying here, trading long, deep kisses with Sansa while Jon’s mouth worships her cunt with Sansa’s pleasure still on his lips and tongue…well, that puts most other pleasurable things to shame.
Sansa is making needy, mewling sounds into Val’s mouth. She writhes, working her hips against their fingers, Val’s and Jon’s both. She’s close to her peak, closer than Val. Jon, sensing it, lifts his mouth from Val’s cunt and noses her fingers away from Sansa’s so he can devour her, tipping her up towards her release. Sansa cries out into Val’s mouth, her body jerking in time with the movement of Jon’s tongue against her.
“That’s it, kitling,” Val murmurs, dragging her lips from Sansa’s mouth to her jaw to her ear. “Come for us, lovely. You come so sweet, I envy Jon his position.”
“You can swap with Jon for his position when he’s done,” Sansa pants, her cheeks pinking at her own daring, and Val laughs in delight. Jon makes a rumbling sound against her, and then moves his hand to Val, curling two blunt fingers inside her and rubbing his thumb in slow circles at the top of her sex.
“His fingers are still wet from you, pet,” Val purrs to Sansa, opens her thighs more for Jon’s touch. “I can feel it inside me. Do you like that? Do you like him fucking me with fingers that have your pleasure on them?”
They both moan at that, Jon and Sansa, and Sansa gives a great shudder, her hips snapping up convulsively to meet Jon’s mouth as she peaks. Val fixes her eyes on him; he loves when they peak under his tongue and Val loves to watch him, loves the way his eyes roll back, only slivers of white showing beneath nearly closed lids as he sups on his wives as if they’re the most delicious things in the world.
Val coos wordlessly at Sansa as her shivers subside, her hand moving soothingly over Sansa’s belly. Jon holds his tongue against her, all while his fingers still move inside Val, keeping her just on the edge of pleasure.
“It’s,” Sansa pants, struggling to catch her breath, “it’s your turn, Val.” She slides her hand to join Jon’s on Val’s cunt. Jon gives a rough, muffled laugh, and transfers his mouth back to Val, his tongue driving her to her peak with ruthless efficiency. A laugh escapes her when she reaches her release, a high, girlish sound that sounds more like Sansa than Val herself. A lovely way to spend an evening indeed.
“You know,” Val says after Jon has crawled up and wedged himself between them, head pillowed on his arms. “It hardly seems fair.”
Jon makes a questioning grunt. Sansa has propped herself up on one elbow to run her hand in slow strokes over his back and ribs, pressing kisses to his hair and nape and shoulders in a characteristic display of affection, her appreciation for Jon’s attentions showing in each touch. “What doesn’t seem fair?” she asks absently.
“That Jon spends so much time pleasuring us with his mouth but never receives such pleasure in return.” Jon’s body grows suddenly still and alert. Val has an image of him with his ears pricked in interest, like Ghost when he’s scented prey. Smiling, she places her hand alongside his spine beside Sansa’s and is pleased to feel his muscles tensed and quivering.
“In return…” Sansa asks. “You mean we…?” Her voice trails off in a question and she flushes the color of Dornish red, but looks so intrigued and eager that Val laughs in delight. Few things are more enjoyable than introducing Sansa to some new activity for the three of them to enjoy. And for Sansa, come to their marriage bed a maid only a handful moons ago, near all activities are new.
“Oh yes, I mean we…” Val answers, mimicking Sansa’s tone and raising her eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. She leans close to Jon, so she can croon in his ear. “You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you Jon? Would you like to be rewarded?” Jon lets out a long, low moan that has Sansa blushing even more fiercely.
“How…” she says, shy and needy and sweet. “What do we… Will you show me?”
“Always,” Val answers, leaning across Jon’s back to steal a kiss. Then she gives Jon a smack on the arse that echoes with a sharp sound to make Sansa jump. “Onto your back, Jon. And out of those breeches.”
He obeys readily, a look of giddy anticipation mixed with a strange regret on his face when he sits up. This is something Val has done only a handful of times for Jon. It always seems to make him queerly guilty, as if he thinks it something he shouldn’t want, let alone allow. Val has let it go – it’s not especially her favorite activity, though she does enjoy doing it for Jon and seeing him come utterly apart for her – but perhaps the addition of Sansa will undo his reticence.
Val had intended for Jon to remove his breeches himself, but Sansa reaches for the laces, saying, “Let me,” soft and sweet. Jon stills for her, letting her pull at the laces, his stomach jerking each time her knuckles brush his skin. She urges him to his back with one light hand placed against his chest. Sometimes Val thinks Sansa could keep Jon from launching into battle with a single gentle touch. He cants his hips up to allow Sansa to tug his breeches over his hips and down his legs. Val takes advantage of the posture to ghost the heel of her palm up the underside of his cock, her fingertips dragging along his belly below it. He makes a strangled sound, surges up into her palm, and she smiles.
“Gods, but you will be the end of me,” he says, his mouth open in a pant, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“That would be the idea,” she says with a wicked grin. She wriggles down the bed until her chin is level with Jon’s hipbone. Shyly, Sansa does the same, until they are looking at each other over his belly, his cock a pleading and insistent presence between them. Val knows that whatever she does, Sansa will mimic it, so she strokes her hand over Jon’s thigh and hip, runs her knuckles lightly from the tip of his cock to the base. Sansa hesitates, then reaches out to do the same. Already Jon quivers from only these small touches, but he holds himself still, so still for them, for Sansa. Val encourages Sansa to continue with a nod, the two of them exploring and caressing Jon until his breathing grows labored and his heart beats heavily in the flesh under their fingertips. Knowing it will drive him nearly mad, Val leans across him and licks a delicate stripe up the underside of his cock, flicking her tongue beneath the head with practiced ease.
“Gods!” Jon explodes, his hands fisting in the furs beside him, his head dropping back onto the pillows.
Sansa’s eyes widen, her mouth a pink circle. “I think he liked that,” she says breathlessly, then giggles at herself, granting Val a grin that creases her cheeks with dimples.
“I think he’d like it even more from you,” Val says, grinning when Jon immediately raises his head to say, “please, yes please Sansa, if you like.”
Shyly, hesitantly, Sansa dips her head towards him, her hair falling in a curtain that shifts over his thighs and settles between them. Val tucks it behind Sansa’s ear and shoulder, giving her cheek an encouraging caress. Carefully, tentatively, Sansa drags the tip of her tongue over Jon’s cock. Jon’s answering moan is so loud that she jumps back, startled, before laughing at herself and shaking her head in chagrin.
“I told you he would like it,” Val says. Again, Sansa lowers her head and begins to explore him with her tongue, becoming more sure and bold, eventually lapping at his cock with dainty greed, a kitten with her saucer of cream. Wordlessly, Val takes Sansa’s hand and wraps it around the base, showing Sansa how to move her hand to complement the ministrations she gives with her tongue.
“Do I…?” Sansa asks, growing shy again as she looks at Val. “Is it only this, or should I…”
“Here, pet,” Val says, holding Sansa’s hand beneath hers. “Like this.” Sansa’s eyes widen once more as Val slides her lips around Jon’s cock, lowering them to meet her and Sansa’s hands before pulling back and sucking with firm pressure. Jon’s moans have become tortured now, leavened by grunts and heavy exhalations as he struggles for control. She sucks at him, laves him with her tongue, and then pulls away and smiles at Sansa encouragingly. Once more, Sansa tentatively draws her lips over him, then closes them around the head of his cock, sucking at him as Val had, but more shallowly and far more inexpertly. It touches Val, how sweet she is, how eager to please. She’d been so shrinking and frightened during the bedding ceremony on their wedding night, so uncertain of the men all around her. Val remembers how Sansa had clung to her hand, huddling at her side. Such a brave girl, she thinks.
“Val,” Jon grits out, disrupting her thoughts. “Val, I can’t… There’s only so much I can take.” Sansa lifts her head, her lips red and shiny in the firelight, her eyes suddenly concerned.
“Am I not doing it properly?” she asks, looking so stricken that Val stifles her instinctive laugh and instead kisses her, tasting Jon on her lips and tongue and finding it a pleasing combination.
“You’re doing it far too properly, pet,” she says. “Isn’t that right Jon?” He only makes a strangled sound, his cock jumping in their hands where they still hold him together. Reassured, Sansa leans down again, but Val stops her.
“We should share this duty, do you not think?” she asks. Pleased, Sansa ducks her chin and nods, smiling shyly.
“What?” Jon asks, sounding almost panic-stricken as he lifts his head to look down on them, his face hazy with desire, tense with the effort of his control. “Wait, you aren’t going to… Please, I can’t-”
“Oh, but you can,” Val purrs. “You will.” She lowers her head again, for a moment letting only her breath wash over his sensitive skin. Sansa watches carefully, waiting for a cue of some sort. When Val runs her tongue up the side of Jon’s cock, Sansa studies her for a moment and then joins her, the two of them licking over him, up to the tip where they share sweet, messy kisses before returning to their task, repeating the pattern over and over until Jon is practically vibrating. Val thinks he might explode like a glass bottle in a fire. Her smile would be unbearably smug if her mouth weren’t too occupied for something such as smiling.
“Val, Sansa,” he says, in a voice so choked that Val knows he’s a heartbeat away from spilling. “Gods, oh gods.” Val pulls back and Sansa does as well; it is but a moment after they’ve moved their heads that he peaks with a hoarse cry, spending in hot pulses over his belly as Val squeezes Sansa’s hand beneath hers, moving it from base to tip as if wringing his pleasure from him. His hips buck up so forcefully that Val is glad he warned them. Best not to frighten poor Sansa, or worse, choke her. His peak lasts longer than Val thinks it ever has, something that’s not escaped Sansa’s notice either, given the look of shy delight that crosses her face as they watch him spend. There’s an undeniable power in it, a power that’s especially satisfying with a man as responsive and ardent as Jon. Val wonders if Sansa’s ever felt such power before.
“Oh, that was lovely,” Sansa breathes, and Val can’t help but kiss her senseless at such a thing. She kisses her until Jon has stopped jerking beneath them, until he can only lie quivering and panting, growing soft in their hands.
They crawl up the furs then, each lying alongside his wrung out body in the circle of one arm. Sansa smiles blissfully, folding her arms against her chest and cuddling so close to his side there’s not a breath of space between them, her cheek lying over his heartbeat. Val does not lie so close; she likes looking upon the two of them together, something she’d never expected to enjoy so much. Each is so suited to the other, Sansa’s sweet softness perfectly complemented by Jon’s gentle nature. Val would almost feel unnecessary, were they not sorely lacking the fire and life she could bring to them. Strange how such a political match could become one of such affection and harmony.
“We should do that again,” Sansa says with a happy sigh. Jon’s answering chuckle is weary and exhausted.
“I may never move again, after that,” he counters.
“Pity,” Val says idly, drawing a pattern over his chest with one fingertip. “I feel need still. I think Sansa may as well.” Sansa looks at Val, her eyes darkening. When Val reaches over Jon’s belly to tuck between Sansa’s thighs where she’s hot and wet still, Sansa shivers and lets out a low, rippling sound. Val grins and gives Jon a challenging look. “Perhaps you’d like us to take to my chambers instead while we serve each other? You’re so tired, after all. We’d hate to disturb you.”
Jon gives a mighty groan. Then with a strength that would surprise Val even if he hadn’t just spent to the point of exhaustion, he gathers them both to his chest and rolls them across the bed, until he lies half atop each one of them, both of them sharing his weight.
“You are a wretched woman,” he says to Val, “and I shudder to think of the effect you’re having on Sansa.”
“Jon!” Sansa protests, quick to defend Val against any slight, even one coming from him, but Val chuckles and wriggles against Jon, hooking one leg about his hip.
“And pathetically grateful you are for that effect, as well I know,” she says, rocking her hips up against him.
“Aye,” he sighs. “That I am.”
“It’s all right,” Val tells him. “I know a way you can thank me.” Jon, gods bless him, takes the hint, dropping immediately between her thighs and setting his tongue to her cunt. Val pulls Sansa to her, captures her mouth in a kiss, making the circle to the beginning of their night complete, and she makes a happy, wordless sound into Sansa’s mouth. That’s the wonderful thing about these lovely evenings, she thinks; there seems to be no end of them in sight.