Heat in the North [Jon Snow x Sansa Stark] - One-Shot Prompt Winner

Synopsis: Jon Snow realized that Sansa might not be the best to rule the North. But to win control, he had to give something in return, something intimate and special.

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In the heart of Winterfell, where the icy winds whispered tales of old and the stone walls held the memories of fallen kings, Jon Snow marched with purpose.

His footsteps echoed through the corridors, each one a resolute beat against the ancient stones. He had just received word of the happenings in his absence and of the bold moves Sansa had made in his stead. Whispers of Sansa Stark's actions circulated through the castle like a bitter wind, and hints of talk about her being the true Queen of the North murmured.

Ramsay Bolton, the sadistic lord who had tormented her for so long, had met his end in the jaws of his own hounds. Little Finger, the master manipulator whose machinations had threatened to tear their family apart, had faced the sharp edge of ruthless justice.

As he entered her chamber, his heart pounded with a mixture of frustration and worry.

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The door swung open, revealing the warmth of the hearth and the flickering light of candles that danced on the walls. Inside, a maid was busy filling a wooden tub with steaming water, while Sansa stood at its edge, shedding the heavy burdens of the day.

Jon's jaw tensed as he took in the scene before him and quickly turned his body towards the door, attempting to maintain a semblance of privacy despite the urgency of his visit. He watched as the maid scurried away, leaving him alone with Sansa and the rising tension between them.

He could hear the water splash in the room as Sansa's smooth, pale skin plunged into the water, engulfing her body in its warmth.

"Sansa," Jon's voice carried an edge, a mixture of urgency and exasperation as he focused his eyes on the wall.

Sansa glanced up, her expression cool and composed, as if she had been expecting him. "Jon," she greeted, her voice carrying a hint of indifference.

Jon's entrance was abrupt, his presence a storm brewing on the horizon. She knew there was something on his mind, probably something she wouldn’t like judging by the way he didn’t leave.

"What in the Seven Hells is going on?" Jon started, his tone edged with frustration.

Sansa, ever the picture of poise, answered coolly as she eased herself into the comforting embrace of the hot water. "What does it look like, Jon? I'm taking a bath."

Jon fought to keep his anger in check, his brow furrowed. "I'm not talking about the bath, Sansa. I'm talking about what's been happening in Winterfell in my absence. What you did to Ramsay Bolton, to Little Finger... It's not justice."

Sansa's gaze remained steady as she reclined further into the warm water, her movements deliberate and her voice cutting through the air like a dagger. "Justice, Jon? Tell me, what justice did Ramsay deserve after what he did to me, to our family? Ramsay was a monster and Little Finger... Little Finger got what he deserved."

Jon's chest tightened at the mention of their names. He knew the depths of Sansa's suffering, but he also understood the precarious balance of power in the North. Each death would be spoken about, each judged by what little information the people knew.

"This isn't about what he deserved," Jon countered, his voice growing more impassioned. "It's about how we maintain order, how we inspire loyalty with honorable justice. He is still known as the person who brought you back to the North."

Sansa's lips curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes flashing with defiance. "And what would you have me do, Jon? Sit and embroider pretty little flowers?"

Jon felt the heat rising within him, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I would have you think with your head, not your heart! The dead rise in the North, and Cersei prepares in the South! This is war, Sansa, not some petty feud. We cannot be careless."

Sansa's features softened for a moment as she regarded him, her eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath her steely exterior. "Jon," she murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow, "You don't understand what it was like, what I endured at the hands of Ramsay. The things he did to me..."

“But…” Jon tried to argue.

The tension in the room crackled like lightning as Sansa's temper flared. With a swift motion, she splashed water toward Jon, the droplets glistening in the firelight like crystalline tears. “You, of all people, should understand! Nothing about this is petty! The North isn't yours to give, Jon! You knelt to that wretched..."

Jon staggered back, the back of his head and cloak soaked. His furrowed brow in disbelief.

"Sansa, I didn't—" His words caught in his throat as he turned back to face her in annoyance, his eyes widening in shock. The sight before him halted his protests, leaving him speechless and unsettled. Sansa had already come out of the tub, fully naked, skin glistening with drops of water.

Despite everything, she remained a vision of ethereal beauty, her porcelain skin glowing in the firelight, her auburn locks dripping wet, sticking to her neck and shoulders. Sansa's features were illuminated by an eerie light, her eyes gleaming with a hint of something otherworldly. In that moment, she seemed more than just Sansa Stark, more than the arrogant girl he had grown up alongside. She was now a woman; The slopes of her waist, and the ampleness of her bosom were obviously something he never imagined.

But now, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her body.

"Looks like someone is out of control," Sansa muttered with a slight sneer as her gaze went down Jon’s torso.

"The only one out of line is you," Jon responded. He took a step closer, trying to show her a gentle, harmless gesture, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Sansa, you can’t fight what's coming for all of us."

"I'm a survivor, and I will survive!" She swatted his hand away and tried to push. However, after everything, she was still a maiden after all, lacking the strength to push him away.

Jon glared at her in anger, "What of the people? This is not about me and you!"

"Yes, this is about my right!"

Jon felt even more angry, "We have the same father, the same rights."

Sansa scoffed. "You’re the one giving up those rights. Not me!"

Jon exhaled a heated breath, carrying a hint of exhaustion. His grip on her shoulders tightened a little. “You’ve changed…”

His words were heavy and low, but Sansa could still hear the subtle gulp in his throat.

“For the better, Jon. For me and everyone else in Winterfell.” Sansa’s face inched closer to his as she spoke, her piercing eyes never leaving his gaze. Her hand crept up his torso, hooking both claps of his heavy, fur-trimmed cloak with her fingers, letting it fall to his feet.

She came even closer, her lips an inch away from his, and placed her hand on his hidden erection. “If you dislike it so much, then why do you have this?”

Jon’s hands went down her shoulders and arm. One cupped the curve of her smooth waist, while the other pinched her hardened nipples between fingers. "Same reason as this," his words dripped with challenge.

Like a wild cat, Sansa’s mouth collided with his, passionately kissing him with her tongue. Both her hands got busy taking off Jon’s heavy clothes, tossing them away as they entangled each other’s bodies. Skin touching skin, sharing the heat as their hands drifted all over each other’s skin.

Jon fumbled with his trousers to open it as Sansa quickly pulled his smallcloth down. As they continued to kiss in heated desire, Jon tried to push Sansa back toward the bed at the other end of the room. However, Sansa was a step faster.

She suddenly turned their bodies together and swung Jon’s body towards the wooden tub with the centrifugal force.

Splash!

Jon gasped for breath as his head came out of the water, swiping his wet, messy hair back. He leaned back on the edge and chuckled a little, thinking about how absurd the situation was. He thought she had thrown him in the water to get back at him.

However, he was wrong.

“You know something else I’ve learned out there, Jon?” Sansa said as she parted her legs and went into the water herself. She placed each leg at Jon’s side, slowly lowering her body into the water and straddling Jon’s lap.

Her hands caressed Jon’s face, down his scruffy beard, his neck, and onto his chest. Her hips ground on his erect member, slowly and provocatively, pressing it down on her hot lower lips. “Women are emotional, while men talk about honor. But women make love, while men fuck like beasts…. Tell me, Jon. Are you a man?”

“Fuck! Sansa...”

Jon couldn’t finish his words as Sansa stuck her tongue in his mouth once again, both her hands pulled his head closer.

Jon couldn’t hold back his primal instinct anymore, feeling the yearning creeping up his loins. The way her glistening mounds were squished onto his chest, the way her slender hips swayed, and the way her soft petals were brushing against his strained cock; everything about her was intoxicating, pulling him out of his hesitation.

He quickly caught her slender waist, and pulled her body even closer to him, spilling water out of the tub with their movements. He caught one of her lustrous hills with his hand, kneading and letting her pink nub slip between his fingers, aided by the water.

“Show me, Jon. Show me you're worthy of being the King of the North,” she whispered into his ear as he started kissing her flushed neck.

His lips went down, nibbling on her smooth, pale skin, and eventually found its way to her pink tip. He licked and suckled. His other hand went down between them, curling on her swollen kernel of love, causing Sansa to shiver all over.

His fingers brushed up and down her petals, teasing and taunting her thirst.

“Oh, Jon…” her body bounced in the water as she quivered, holding his scar-marked shoulder for leverage. She could feel the cold hair on her wet skin, teasing her senses.

As her cave of wonders moved back a little, her body slightly floating in the water. Jon got a chance to hold onto his own swollen staff, guiding his head towards her core as her body came back down. He replaced his hard fingers with his even harder arousal.

“Ohhh… Fuck!” Sansa yelped as she felt his manhood part her petals and entered the honey-soft folds of her womanhood.

“Ugh… Sansa, damn it!” Jon almost couldn’t hold it, feeling the tight walls throbbing and clenching on his cock. He moved his hands and held onto her hips, trying to guide her to move down slowly as he glided upward, deep inside her.

But Sansa didn’t want any of that, hugging his neck as her doughy, plump ass moved in circles, trying to take control. Her body moved against him in hot, wet abandon, squeezing her breasts between them. She enjoyed the pulsating, vibrating need of his cock; fully engulfing it in the slick, soft flesh of her pussy.

Jon answered with unconscious rhythm, arching his hips up to meet hers. His thrusts gradually grew faster as he felt her pussy tighten on his girth, coming close to choking him entirely. He moved her up and down, pushing his palms on her mounds to make her body move up, and thrust his burning need upwards as she came back down to meet his urgent thrust.

She pressed down to meet his every ascending thrust with her sweltering pussy. Their bodies collided in perfect tempo, splattering water everywhere. Wave after wave of splashes echoed in the dim room.

“Drink up now, like the good boy you are…” She muttered between moans of ecstasy. Her finger sunk into his dark hair, tossing and clutching a handful of his locks greedily. She pulled his head down towards her jutting mounds.

Jon begrudgingly did so, nibbling and suckling on her perfect pink tips. He captured them between his fingers and licked in circles. His hands harshly kneaded her glutinous flesh, letting them spill between his fingers.

“Ahh… Ahh… Tell me, Jon… Ahh—Are you… A man now… are you My King? Are you… Jon?” She taunted as she threw her head back in reckless abandon. Her muscles started to knot up, that tingling sensation driving her close, tittering on the edge.

“Your… Nothing but… A youngling…” Sansa’s nails dug into the skin of his back, her body shuddering at the edge of release.

But before Sansa fully pierced that last layer of pleasure, Jon suddenly stopped thrusting and grabbed her red hair with one hand from behind. He bit her neck while his other hand clutched her flushed breast. Letting her wiggle on her own, slowly fucking herself on his still cock without being able to reach that blissful release because his hips beckoned back a little.

“I’ll show you a King,” he growled into her silky, wet skin.

Jon pulled her off of him, shoving her straight to the other side of the tub, causing a large spill of hot water on the floor.

Sansa snapped back to reality, feeling the reluctant loss in her loins. The abrupt change of control made her anxious, as she hastily grabbed the edge of the tub.

Jon held onto her shoulders, slowly sliding his hand down her waist and hips, approaching from behind. By the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late. He had already shoved the swollen head of his cock into her throbbing pussy once more from behind.

“Ah! Jon!” Sansa cried out, her tone carrying a hint of protest.

“You wanted a man; I’ll show you a man.” He started moving his hips fervently, plowing into her with heated thrusts. He no longer had that gentle appearance, seeming like a different person.

Intense water sounds surged, and Sansa felt her buds skimming lightly on the water's surface as her mounds swayed. She held onto the wooden tub, her hands applying such force that her knuckles turned white.

The squelching sounds from her pussy mixed with the splashes of the water, her moans and cries muffled by her bitten lips. His heated grunts echoed as he grabbed hold of her plump, pale ass, plowing in as harshly as he could, letting their flesh slap against each other.

Even with her back turned to him, she could imagine his expression at this moment. Serious and stern, he seemed like he would never show emotions or desires in his life.

She couldn’t help but want to see it. Teary eyes and flushed, she turned to look at him with pleading eyes. “Jon… Ah—Ahh… Yes... Take me…” she mewed.

Jon saw her helpless face, the expression filling him up with the desire to break her, claim her, and devour her entirely. His thrusts grew faster and harsher; the sloshes of water grew louder, attempting to drown out their noises.

The water rippled, hot water splashing out. Amidst the chaos, she heard his voice. “Is this… the man… you wanted?” He asked, slapping her wet, glistening ass as a show of control. He needed it now more than ever to manage the North and prepare for the war.

Slap!

Slap!

“Fuck! Ahh…” Sansa couldn’t hold on anymore. Her deepest walls struck with the force of his lengthy cock. The pleasure in her heated core finally pierced through the last walls of defense, sending her over the edge. Her spine instantly went numb.

“Ghhk… Fuck! Sansa!” Jon could feel the tense strain around his cock, her insides bursting onto his with hot nectar; Even hotter than the water surrounding them. Her petals clamped around him with greed, kneading his straining cock with each throb.

He abandoned himself to pleasure and allowed his molten juices to intermingle with hers. As bursts of his white seeds filled her pussy up, his body convulsed in spasm, straining to send in every last drop deep within.

As exhaustion finally sunk in, he leaned forward, both hands resting on the edge of the tub. His chest pressed against Sansa’s back while his arms trapped her in between and cock still resting inside. “Is this what you wanted, Sansa? Do you think you can control me with your body?”

Sansa turned to face him, leaving the warmth of his gradually relaxing cock in the lukewarm water. She leaned back on the side of the tub, circling her arms around his neck.

“You think I can’t? All you men are the same." Her hate-filled words carried a hint of seductive confidence.

Jon looked down and point at her sore pussy in the clear water and his cream seeping out little by little, dispersing in the water, "This begs to differ."

"For now, you’ve won... but I have my ways, Jon." Her eyes turned sharper with every word coming out of her flushed lips, still red from her bites.

Jon ironically tutted, stood up in the tub, and suddenly took her body in his arms, carrying her out of the water. Sansa yelped a little as she tightened her arms around his neck, her dainty feet dangling and shivering from the cold air.

Jon took large and determined strides towards the bed. "Who said I'm done? The battle is still on."

“Ah!” Sansa found herself thrown on the soft bed. “Jon, no… I can’t…”

With a plain face, Jon ignored her words and launched himself on her lustful body. “I’m not asking anymore, Sansa.”

He couldn’t afford to ask. Getting her under control was the key to survival.

“Oooh!” She moaned as soon as his digits entered her soreness again.

The night continued on the large bed as the water in the wooden tub gradually turned ice cold. The squeaks, moans, and groans echoed throughout the night as the battle became intense, hot, and steamy.

Two wolves fought to lead the pack.

Yet the victor was predecided, for one also carried Dragon’s blood.