m_findlow

Title: Kissed by fire
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Jon Snow, Ygritte
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 925 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, tentative first touches" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jon discovers something far scarier than white walkers

'Don't move,' she said, stepping forward, closing the gap between them. He didn't think he could have moved even if his life had depended on it. He caught the way she stared up at him, those fierce blue grey eyes that stopped him dead in his tracks. She might have been a foot shorter than him, but when she met his gaze, it was as if they were equals.

'Someone might see us,' he said, finding his voice hoarse, having to struggle to force the words out.

'Do I look like I care? Do they look like they care? We're free folk. We do what we like and there's no one to tell us otherwise,' she replied.

The answer wasn't unexpected but it made him nervous all the same. Someone might put an arrow in him before he even knew about it for being this close to her. Ygritte might trust him, but he was almost certain she was alone on that front. To most of them he was still a Crow, and the only good Crow was a dead Crow.

Her fingers toyed with his furs, and though they were thick, he imagined he could feel every fingertip, hot against his skin. It made his breath catch in the back of his throat.

'Have you ever kissed a girl, Jon Snow?'

He wanted to laugh. 'Of course I've kissed girls.'

But the girls in Winterfell weren't like Ygritte. Most of them were shy things, all giggles and fiddling with their hair. Plus, they only kissed him because there was no one else. They all fancied his brother Robb, or even Theon. Theon though had done more than just kissed them. He'd laid with several of them, telling stories of his conquests that made Robb laugh nervously and Jon almost flush red with embarrassment. He was a consolation prize when the other two had finished wooing their pick of the crop. No one really wanted a bastard, even if he wasn't that bad looking.

'But you've never touched a girl, have you?'

Why did she have to be so direct? He felt almost embarrassed to admit it. He'd come close, once before, but he'd been scared. He didn't want to because he might get her with child. What would his father have thought? Just another bastard for Winterfell. No, it was much better that he didn't. And there was something else too, that he hadn't known back then. He didn't feel the same way about her that he did about Ygritte. He couldn't explain it. Love seemed like too strong a word for it. How could you love someone you barely knew? It was more like being halfway drunk and a bit dizzy. Like when they took turns to stand atop the Great Keep, spinning in circles with their eyes closed, and then daring one another to stand right next to the edge and not fall off.

Before he could stop her, she'd undone the ties holding his coat together, revealing the pale white flesh underneath, running those same fingertips along its length.

'You're shaking,' she said, almost conversationally.

And he was. He hadn't known it, but his whole body was shivering; not at the cold, but at the warmth of her hands. It was nonsensical. He'd grown up with a sword in his hand, faced the country north of the Wall, fought Wildlings and killed Quorin Halfhand. He was a man of the Night's Watch, afraid of nothing, but a girl's fingers on his chest had him quivering like a leaf in the godswood.

'You are mine, Jon Snow,' she said, before leaning in to press her lips to his. They were so warm and sweet. Her tongue was in his mouth and though he didn't consciously think about it, he found his own delving into hers, tasting her sweetness for himself. This wasn't like the kisses he'd had before. There was a new hunger inside him. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to keep kissing.

His hands snaked around her lithe frame, thin despite the layer of furs, and she reached down to release her own ties, letting the two halves fall away. He pressed up close to protect her modesty, but the heat of her skin against his was all consuming. Hair kissed by fire, and body equally hot like fire.

'Come here,' he said, pulling her down and covering their bodies with furs. He knew what he wanted now, terrifying a prospect as that was, but he'd be damned if anyone else in the camp was going to see them. He had his oaths to keep, even if he was meant to pretend he no longer held to them. "I shall take no wife and father no children." He hadn't done either of those things yet. Then he felt Ygritte's hand slip lower, pulling away his clothes and touching him somewhere no one had ever touched him. The reaction was instantaneous.

'You are all mine, Jon Snow,' Ygritte repeated, before kissing him again, letting her hands wander all over his trembling body. He reached out his own hand and tentatively felt her firm bosom, liking the way it curved into his hand, and the way she pressed closer, begging him to touch more of her.

Yes, for tonight at least, he was all hers, whether he wanted it or not. Luckily he found himself wanting it very much. He just hoped it wouldn't be too much when the time came to leave.

'I am yours,' he replied.