A Groomed Direwolf

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/22351507.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Underage
Category: F/F, F/M
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A
Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Jon Snow/Arya Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Character: Jon Snow, Arya Stark, Sansa Stark
Additional Tags: Shaving, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation,
Sibling Incest, Porn With Plot
Stats: Published: 2020-01-21 Words: 5999

A Groomed Direwolf
by Lord_Whitefyre

Summary

Arya feels she needs some help from Jon when it comes to shaving. Sansa watches silently.

Notes
See the end of the work for notes

A Groomed Direwolf

Arya sighed in hopelessness as she looked at the razor in her hand. She was standing in her room
naked as her name day as she contemplated what to do with the ever-unruly curls of hair she had
been growing between her legs. Arya’s looked away from the razor and back to the mirror her
mother had gotten her some years back. Candle light flickered and threw shadows over the glass.

It was a large mirror shipped in from the free cities with snarling wolves and swimming trout
carved along its rim. The woman behind the looking glass gazed back at Arya, meeting her eye for
eye. Arya grimaced. She knew she was pretty, in a different sort of way.

Arya had long legs and a thick set of thighs corded with muscle from years of riding. She sported a
slim build with small but firm breasts and slightly wide hips. Her stomach was to some extent
muscled from the years of sword practice she had weaseled out of her father and brothers. Arya’s
hair was undone and she had grown it out. At the moment it was curled and unruly, waves of dark
locks rolling down her shoulders. She preferred it done in a bun and when she was younger had
preferred it short.

That’s the thing—when she was younger. When Arya was younger, she hadn’t cared that her hair
was messy or she wasn’t clean. Then, she had been Arya Horseface and her only wish was to ride
free and play with her brothers. Now she wanted to be held and loved and cherished.
She still didn’t want to marry, too, unless now it was a man she wanted. She knew who she was.
She wasn’t a southern flower who nodded demurely and was destined to be a pretty decoration for
her husband to show off. She was Arya Stark, a she-wolf of Winterfell.

But even wolfs had their own insecurities.

Arya knew she had grown into her beauty. Her long face no longer seemed so long and it
complemented the cheeks she had inherited from her father, flushed out with a woman’s sharpness.
Her eyes were a piercing grey that at times shown bright like the sky and with her dark locks she
was considered a northern queen in all but name. Often did people whisper of her in the same
breath as her long dead Aunt whose beauty had thrown the realm into war. She knew that often her
father was pained to look upon her, seeing his dead sister.

Arya frowned as she looked at her breasts. Her body was slim and when she wore her tight
breeches and tunic for the days she sparred, she knew her figure was accented very well. Jon told
her so. But she couldn’t help feel jealous that her elder sister had inherited their mother’s heavy
breasts and lush hips. Arya had a bum, that she could be proud of. Her ass was far curvier than her
sister’s but that mattered little to Arya.

Arya Horseface was what she was known for years and now when she walked out of the training
yard, it was Arya the Wilding. Her hair would always come undone and she would be sweating and
panting like an animal. Her sister wasn’t so cruel about it like she had been in their youth, but
Sansa’s friends were. Arya hated it. She hated appearing like a wilding. When she was younger,
she would had reveled in it, to be thought as a free woman of the free folk, wild and free.

Now when she looked at her unkept hair and the bush growing over her cleft, she thought she did
look like an uncouth barbarian. She knew Jon loved her anyway, but she always wondered if he
disliked her unkept appearances. She knew he maintained himself.

That was the thing. Arya and Jon… well Arya had always loved her big brother. Jon had always
loved her. Arya knew he always would and they always had sought to please one another. Then
one day something happened and that line of brother and sister began to be crossed more and more.

Arya loved her big brother perhaps more than a sister should but she couldn’t care. No, what she
cared about was making herself look pretty for him. She didn’t want to look like a savage for
him—fuck all the people outside of the chambers that Jon and Arya would sneak into at night.
When it was the two of them alone, Arya felt the best. But…

Arya still wanted to be pretty, she always had been, although she would never admit it aloud. She
knows Jon wouldn’t care if she kept the hairs growing over her mound but Arya did, and she
wanted them gone. She wanted to be for once… lady like. She wanted to appear less a wilding and
more like a woman.

There was one problem, she didn’t know how to shave herself. It was supposed to be easy; Arya
had thought. Then she had bit herself with the blade. Arya pursed her lips as she ran a finger though
her dark curls. She hissed when she felt the fresh cut.

Arya was frustrated. She had tried cutting away the bush for what seemed like hours. She had tried
laying on her bed and sitting on the floor. She had attempted to get all sorts of angles but she
always seemed to catch the blade on her skin and couldn’t run it with the curves of her flesh. For
once she wished she was a Bolton. Arya gaffed at the thought. No, never mind that.

Arya threw herself on her bed as another long sigh escaped her lips. Her legs dangling from her bed
she wondered what to do. She couldn’t go to Sansa or her mother for it. She knew for a fact that
Sansa didn’t shave. The Septa had her claws deep into Sansa and judging from the old croon’s
hairy legs, Sansa wasn’t anywhere close to thinking about shaving her crotch.

Now her mother probably did, but only because of Arya’s father. While it was a weird thought, it
was a realistic truth and Arya had grown up enough to understand it. Arya had originally thought
she could go to her mother about it but… well explaining why Arya wanted to probably wouldn’t
turn out well. Arya’s mother could still see through her lies. Arya couldn’t really just tell her
mother she wanted to shave to please Jon. Nor could she tell her she wanted to do it to feel pretty
because that would imply she was again doing it for someone else since no one should be seeing
her naked in the first place.

It was a problem.

Arya knew that Jon shaved. She knew really well and while she had wanted to keep it a surprise for
him… Arya thought on it before settling on it. Fuck it. Arya leaped out of bed and began to dress
herself. She peaked out the window and saw that the moon was still high enough that the guards
wouldn’t be doing a shift until the next hour. Plenty of time.

Arya peaked her head out her chamber door looking for anyone. Seeing no one, Arya slipped out
the door keeping her candle cupped in the crook of her arm. Her feet padded down the cold stones
silently. Jon’s room was in the servant’s quarters, courtesy of her mother. She hated that her mother
still insisted that Jon was kept from the family. He was her big brother and well, also her lover. But
that’s beside the point.

With her thoughts a jumble, Arya didn’t check the corner before turning around it sharply. She
collided with a body and Arya flinched. “Arya!” She heard her sister’s voice cry out in a harsh
hush. Sansa stood in front of her, with a light blue cloak on. Arya swore she saw crumbs at the
corner of her lips.

“What are you doing up this late?” Sansa demanded which Arya snorted too. “I could say the same,
Sansa. Are those lemon cakes still on your lips?”

Sansa gaped for a moment before wiping her lips with the scruff of her sleeve. “No, it’s just, a
midnight snack. I had some reading to do.”

“Uh huh.” Arya nodded. “Well, how about this I go my way and you go your way?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing? Are you sneaking out to the godswood again?”

“Wrong side of the castle for that.” Arya retorted. “No, I have business for my own reading.”

“I should tell mother.” Sansa warned and Arya laughed a little. “Then you should explain them
why you were sneaking treats.” Sansa pursed her lips before scoffing. Arya’s sister stepped around
her and disappeared into the dark hallway.

“Thank the gods,” Arya mumbled before she went on her way.

***

Sansa was furious. Why did Arya think she could get away with this? Sansa was only there for a
little snack, honest to gods, while Arya was off snooping around for no good. Sansa flushed with
anger. If Arya thought that their mother will care more about Sansa sneaking off for some lemon
cakes then whatever Arya was doing, then she was wrong.

No, Sansa was going to let Arya think she had won. Once Sansa had turned the hallway she had
stopped and waited. Arya had disappeared further into the castle and Sansa contemplated on what
she should do. Originally Sansa had planned to go straight to her parents…

But then she would be stuck arguing with them about Arya’s whereabouts without knowing what
exactly. For all they would know, Arya had been true in her words. No Sansa needed proof. So,
Sansa sought Arya out. Even if it was sword practice, which her father now allowed Arya which
was so unladylike, was still wrong to do at this time.

What mattered now as finding Arya. Sansa had an idea. There was only one reason Arya would be
on this side of the castle and it was because their half-brother Jon lived in this side of the castle.
Sansa grinned in the darkness at the thought of getting her revenge. She knew it was over the top
for one small incident but she had to show Arya who was boss!

So, she walked through the hallways until she reached Jon’s room, giving ample time to catch them
in the middle of whatever they may be doing. Sansa smirked when she saw the door and she slid it
open slightly ajar…

***

Arya knocked on Jon’s door. She waited patiently before the door swung open revealing a half-
naked Jon. His chest was bare and his breeches were thrown on hazardously. “Arya?”

Arya slipped by him as he closed the door behind her. He turned to her with concern on his face.
“What is it?”

“I need your help,” Arya said simply, furthering Jon’s worry.

“Arya has something—”

“No nothing bad has happened! I just need your help.” Arya cut him off.

Jon sighed. “Alright… what is it?”

“I need you to help me shave.”

Jon watched her, a funny look crossing upon his face. “Shave?”

Arya bounced on the balls of her toes as she leapt up at him. Her hands curled up at his shoulders
as she begged, “Please, big brother?”

Jon chuckled lightly as he pushed her off him. “Aright, alright? Shave where?”

Arya’s innocent smile turned devious as she smirked. She began to undue the laces of her own
night cloak and Arya let it fall off her and pool down at her feet, revealing her body to him. Jon’s
mouth formed a silent Oh as Arya gestured at the hair between her legs. “Here,” she said.

Jon nodded dumbly as he swallowed, lust pooling in his eyes. “Did you bring a blade?” Arya’s eyes
glinted dangerously. “Do you even need to ask?” She turned around and bent down to reach into
the pooled clothed. Arya wiggled her ass a little just to tease Jon knowing full well her well curved
rump was on display before she pulled out a small shaving blade. Arya handed it over to Jon who
was blushing and gave him a kiss on the cheek before throwing herself onto his bed.

Laying on his sheets and letting herself sink into his mattress, Arya groaned exasperated. “Jon, I’ve
been trying for hours now but I can’t get it right.” She tilted her head forward, looking at Jon. “I
just can’t seem to catch the blade right.”
Jon looked at the knife in his hand and back to her, “Well, I can’t complain exactly but why can’t
you?” She saw him admire her long legs and the junction in between. Jon walked over to his desk
where he turned away to begin to take out a bottle of some sort of soap.

“Well I keep cutting myself on my skin when I do it. It gets caught.”

Jon quirked an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder. She noticed how his muscles around his
jaw flexed and she could tell he was trying to keep his motions steady and controlled. Arya had
that sort of effect on him. When it was just the two of them, he couldn’t keep himself away from
her. Often did it nearly get them caught. Arya couldn’t count on how many times the two of them
began to get far to close and intimate in the stables too separate in a rush before a stable boy
walked in. Gods, she could even recall the one time the two of them had been fucking in the broken
tower to nearly get caught by their younger brother Bran.

Caught in her thoughts she barely noticed Jon grab what looked like to be a towel and something
else. Arya looked at what was in Jon’s hands as he turned around. “What is that?”

“Some shaving cream. Did you use any when you tried?”

Arya frowned, “No, does it matter?”

Jon laughed as he knelt at the side of bed. Arya scooted up from her position and sat on the edge of
the mattress before Jon. “Of course, it does, Arya. Do you think me and Robb use it for fun?”

“Well, sorry no one taught me how to shave. I thought it was optional.” Arya grumbled as she
spread her legs, giving her brother a clear view of her womanhood. Jon licked his lips at the sight
and Arya knew he was probably forcing down the urge to undress and bury himself in her then and
there. Arya of course intended to share the night with Jon later and the mere thought lead her to
growing a little wet. That furthered when Jon gently caressed her inner thigh. Arya bit her lip at his
ghost like touch.

“Why do you want me to shave you, Arya?” Jon suddenly asked.

Arya thought on her words for a moment. Jon looked at her expectantly. “I want to be… more like
a woman.” Jon gave a slight smile at that. “You’re a woman, Arya.” Jon’s voice was low and she
shivered at the tone of it. She felt him draw a finger down her folds suddenly and she knew exactly
what he meant. “Yes,” Arya bit out. “But I want to be pretty.”

Jon shot up then, leaving the bowl of saving cream on the floor. His face was masked with
concern. “Did Sansa and Jeyne say something again?”

Arya groaned. “No, no they didn’t say anything. I just want to—”

“Arya,” Jon took her in his arms then. She nestled her head in the crook of his arm out of sheer
instinct. She sighed as her naked body molded against his clothed one and a small part of her
thought of the sheer injustice of it. We will have to change that soon. Jon nudged her chin up ever
lightly and their eyes met. “You are beautiful.”

“I know,” Arya smiled. It was soft and full of love, just for him. “And I want to be pretty for you.”

Jon went to say something but Arya shrugged. “I know you always wanted to see it clearer.” Jon
conceded with a nod as she continued. “Besides I also know Theon took you and Robb to the
brothel. Theon was going on and on how he got you a shaved woman, what was her name, Ros?”

Jon’s eyes crinkled with regret. “I shouldn’t had gone that night. I didn’t lay with her, Arya. Yes,
she was shaven, but there’s nothing to compare.”

“But you did see her.”

“Aye.”

“And did you like it?” Jon sighed, “Yes, Arya I did enjoy seeing her cunt if that’s what you’re
asking.”

“I’m not asking that, I’m asking if you want to better see my little cunt.” Ayra leaned into him then.
Jon shuddered as she wrapped her arms around him and her hot breath wafted over his ear. “Do you
want to see you little sister’s cunt bald for you. Just for you. Would that be a prettier sight?”

Jon swallowed. “Yes, I very much would like too.”

Arya grinned knowing she won. “It’s a shame though you didn’t do anything with her. I mean it
would had been nice if you knew what you had been doing those first times.”

Jon looked affronted. “I knew exactly what I was doing.” He knelt down to pick up the shaving
cream as Arya sat back down and positioned herself. “Did you now?” She giggled. “Tell me then
why you couldn’t tell the difference between which hole was which?”

Jon pursed his lips as he said, “It was dark, I couldn’t see.”

Arya mockingly repeated his words, low and throaty. “Lies and excuses just as father would had
said. No, I don’t think you did and my butt paid the price.”

Jon laughed, struggling to keep his voice down less someone wonder why the bastard of Winterfell
was roaring in a fit of laughter in the dead of the night. Arya joined into the laughter, her breasts
heaving. Once the two came down, Arya gestured to Jon, “Well go on.”

“Well, I know what I’m doing here.” Jon said. “So, I want some faith.” He looked at her
expectantly as he pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his breeches. “Blind fold yourself.”

Arya looked at him quizzingly before she took it from him. “You better know what you’re doing,
big brother. Else I might have to teach you a lesson with needle.” Jon shrugged and it was the last
thing Arya saw before she threw the cloth over her eyes. Jon’s voice and touch began her guide as
he pressed her knees wider. Arya relented and she let out a shuddering breath as she felt a cold
substance press over her mound. She noted how vulnerable she was at that moment and that she
was at the utmost mercy of her brother, although she knew he would never harm her.

Jon’s work was gentle but agonizingly long. Though, Arya suspected Jon was taking greater care in
not clipping her with the sharp blade. She knew Jon, Robb, and now even Bran would often walk
out in the morning with a cut or two on their jaws. She already had half a dozen of them down
below, but it warmed her heart knowing Jon wanted to still be careful with her.

Arya let Jon’s work progress. His touch was ever soothing and she liked how his steady hands
brought the blade down softly against her skin. Periodically Jon pushed a wet towel against her
groin and she could feel the change. Her dark coarse curls that had once dominated the crux of her
thighs was coming away in small locks with each brush of a blade and dap of a towel.

Soon she could feel the cream fade away and all that was left was a cool sensation that burnt like
ice strangely. A moment later and Arya nearly jolted as she felt warm lips press against the flesh
that once was hidden by her pubic hair. “Jon?” She uttered out. The feel of his warmth was too
sudden and it had shocked her.
“You had a few cuts,” Jon said plainly, his voice carrying a soft and innocent tone. “I thought I
could kiss them away.” Arya felt her lips widen in a grin. “You stopped doing that when we we’re
children.”

“Sometimes I want to try childish things.” Jon replied. “Come on Arya, taking off the blindfold.
See my work.”

Arya lowly took off the blindfold and blinked as she let her eyes adjust to light as it had been that
long. She looked at Jon and saw he had a small mirror in his hand. In it she could see her red slit
framed by clear flesh. Except for one thing right on the top of her groin’s mound.

“Is that a wolf?” Arya gasped out.

“A direwolf.” Jon corrected flashing a toothy smile.

Arya gawked, unbelieving. “You shaved my hair into the shape of a dire wolf.”

Jon shrugged. “I thought it appropriate.”

***

Sansa was horrified. She had caught Jon and Arya in the midst of a low conversation. From the
looks of it neither had noticed her. Thank the gods. She had been thinking on what her next steps
where when suddenly her sister threw off her cloak and any sense of modesty.

The two of them began to have a conversation she got snippets of and it only further disturbed
Sansa. Their choices of words and the weight behind them alluded to a tryst long in the making.
Gods how long had Arya been allowing herself be dishonored by their bastard brother?

Then the two of them were at Jon’s bed and Jon had knelt between Arya legs to touch her maiden’s
place, but Sansa was sure Arya was no longer a maiden. Then Jon was in the middle of Arya’s legs,
shaving her.

Sansa couldn’t fathom why Arya sought Jon out for this. Any of this? Didn’t she know that she
would no longer be able to have a suitable upstanding Lord as her husband? That this affair would
dishonor their House and herself?

But for some odd reason Sansa couldn’t find the will to remove herself from her sightseeing. She
ought to run and get their parents. By morning Jon’s head would be rolling and Arya off to the
silent sisters or somewhere else before she could bring further dishonor. Yet… Sansa was morbidly
curious what was coming next. Did Arya really seek Jon out to be pretty for him? Why did she feel
the need to shave for him?

And what does it look like when a man lays with a woman?

Sansa bit her lip. It had been sort of cute to see Jon’s concern in that moment. Sansa knew Arya
and her weren’t the best of siblings and a moment of guilt overcame Sansa when she realized that
Arya may had taken her cruel words to heart more often then Sansa thought.

That was quickly forgotten though when Jon and Arya began to lowly talk of Arya’s desires once
more.

It still baffled Sansa that Arya sought Jon out for shaving of all things too. Didn’t Arya know she
could had gone to mother? Sansa for sure would had sought their mother out before anyone else.
Never in a thousand years would she had gone to Robb for something like this. Hells, she had
never even felt the need to groom herself down there. It was not appropriate and the choice was
only reserved for her future husband! Then again, Arya probably went to Jon because she was
laying with him!

She knows she should feel disgusted. She did in a deep unsettling way and Sansa was hoping that it
was just Arya being uncaring of the social boundaries of siblings and did not truly understand the
consequences. Perhaps her sister’s honor could be salvaged? Of course, those thoughts were
quickly swept away once Arya began to laugh.

Sansa’s eyes flashed in shock as she saw a glimpse of the mirror. Did Jon really shave a direwolf
out of Arya’s pubic hair?

***

Arya gave Jon a quirk of her eyebrows. “Appropriate?”

Jon smirked as he threw off his breeches, revealing his hard length. Then he began to climb onto
the bed. He loomed over her and Arya felt another surge of heat between her legs. She could
clearly see the dark pools of lust behind his eyes. Often did people see them dark and grey like their
father’s but Arya had stared into Jon’s enough to see the violet shine in them. “Well you are a wolf.
Wouldn’t it not be right for you to have it?”

“Our House sigil shaved between my legs?”

“Well, to remind us you’re a Stark.”

“And what else? A Targaryan?”

“I suppose it would be fitting considering what we do.” Jon retorted. “Although, a Targaryan
wouldn’t fuck you like I do.”

“Like how, big brother?” Arya breathed.

Jon pushed his lips against her collar bone causing Arya to gasp. “Dragons don’t fuck like wolves.”
Rough and hard, where the unspoken words.

Arya had her legs around him in an instant and she felt a great surge of wet warmth course down
her thighs. She felt his throbbing hard cock press against her stomach and the outline of its warmth
burnt her like fire. A moment later and Jon tore Arya from the bed. He lifted her in the air, holding
her by her perk ass cheeks, steadied by her locked ankles around him. They strolled across the
room where he sat her onto his desk.

Jon’s cock was pushing into her an instant later. Arya moaned as she felt her brother’s length fill
her up. “Fuck,” she said. “Your cock was meant for me, big brother.” He fit her perfectly and she
basked in the sensations of Jon’s cock grazing her insides. Often did they begin like this. Hot and
heavy and fast. Regularly it was the only way they could begin with how long they had to be
beside each other without being unseemly. It was like a dam breaking down and an unbearable itch
finally getting a hint of being scratched.

Jon groaned at the tightness of his little sister’s heat and he began to pound into her furiously. “Of
course, Arya. You were meant for me. You and your tight little cunt.” Unchained as he was, Jon
did not hesitate to give her his full length. Besides, Jon knew she could handle it and often it was
how she liked it.

Arya’s thighs ran wet with her juices as Jon pounded into her. She admired the shine of his cock as
it slid in and out of her, slick lines of her juices coating it. Jon moaned before he laid his lips on
hers. Arya responded with a wet sloppy kiss. Spit ran down their lips at their desperate joining.
Their lips wrapped around each other’s like they were trying to consume the other. Perhaps they
were. Each of them where the other’s half.

Arya whined into his mouth as Jon’s hands gripped her waist and he slammed into her even harder.
She felt him pull her ass back on the desk causing her back to be laid flat and pressed against the
hard wood surface. Jon leaned over her and crashed into her. Arya was glad that Jon had a sparse
desk less there had been more noise.

Jon’s cock slid in and out of Arya’s cunt with long full strokes. Jon loved how Arya breathed under
him, throaty gasps escaping her lips only to be swallowed greedily by him. This is where he
belonged, with her, balls deep buried in his little sister.

Jon felt the tightening of his scrotum when Arya arched her legs higher and locked them. “Fill me
up, Jon. Fill me with your seed, big brother.” The thought of Arya wanting him to cum into her was
tantalizing to Jon. Jon had once made a private confession to Arya that sometimes Jon dreamt of
Arya not taking her Moon tea anymore. He dreamt of him filling her with his seed and watching
her grow round with their child. Arya had in response said, “Maybe one day I will stop and you will
only find out when I am carrying our child.”

He couldn’t hold it back longer before he slammed his cock as deep as he could. He swore he
buried himself so deep into her he reached her womb. His cock spewed torrents of cum into her,
painting his sister’s fertile womb white with his virile semen.

Arya followed right after. She loved the feel of his cum filling her and warming her up like a fire in
the midst of winter. Just as Jon had once confessed, she too sometimes wished that his seed would
find its way into her womb and take root. It was enough to undo her. Her legs quivered around Jon
and she shook under him. The sensations of his warm cum inside her with his cock filling her were
a far cry from the orgasm that tore through her.

If it wasn’t for Jon’s lips on hers, she swore the whole Castle would had heard her cry of pleasure.

Soon, the two of them both came down from their respective orgasms. Heaving and sweaty they
basked in the glow that always came after. “I love you,” Jon whispered. “And no matter what, you
will always be perfect to me.”

Arya nodded breathlessly. She pulled Jon in to lay his head against her breasts. So deep in their
afterglow they didn’t notice the door shut close.

***

Sansa went to her room after that. Her face was redder than a tomato and she felt like she was
burning inside. Equal parts of shame and the unfamiliar sensation of something else burned in her
like coals in a fire. Although she didn’t understand what the shame was for. Shame for their house,
shame for their sister, or shame that she watched and a part of her enjoyed it. Maybe all of them.

She entered her room silently as she could. She undressed and dawned her night clothes, throwing
herself under her covers. She tried to sleep, wishing to forget what she saw but she couldn’t. Sleep
would not come nor could she forget the sights she had endured willingly. She wished she hadn’t
stayed and followed after Arya.

After she saw the small moment that Jon and Arya shared after Jon filled her with his seed, Sansa
had realized that Jon truly did love Arya. He had defiled her but not in the same way as she was
told bastards were want to do. Rather he said his words of love to their little sister like their father
did to her lady mother and comforted her when she spoke of her insecurities. In that moment Sansa
had a glimpse of the romance between the two.

It was a forbidden love like the songs and Sansa did enjoy a good song. It disheartened her to know
that her own family was now one like Aemon the Dragon Knight and his lady love Naerys who
was also his sister. But the Starks were not Targaryans.

Sansa tossed and turned that night. She was conflicted and strangely aroused. Sansa couldn’t tell
her father and mother about this, less she break her little sister’s spirit forever and shatter any
resemblance of family warmth between her and Arya. Jon would no doubt die by their father’s
hand marking him a kin slayer despite the necessity of the act. More so she would forever feel
guilty because the truth was, she liked it.

The next hour saw Sansa unable to sleep. Sansa felt jittery and strangely warm. A fluttering
appeared in her stomach whenever she thought back to that scene when she saw Jon’s strong back
flex under the fireplace light. Sansa would bite her lip when she thought back too how he pounded
into Arya and his cock, what a dirty word, slid into Arya’s tight hole. The mere memory of
watching his seed ooze out of Arya’s nether regions and drip onto the desk was enough to make
Sansa want it herself.

Sansa didn’t know what these feelings were but she had an idea what to do with them. It was
wrong she told herself but as the night dragged on, she found herself losing less and less of the will
that stopped her. Soon Sansa was exploring that part of her body her Septa always told her to stay
away from.

Sansa felt hot. So hot she felt like her room was on fire. She threw off the furs and let the cold air
kiss her skin. She lifted her night shift and bunched it up to her hips. She slid a hand down to her
folds, running fingers through her red curls already glistening with arousal.

Sansa bit back a moan when she rubbed the spot right over her entrance. A gasp emanated from her
lips and she quickly targeted that nub of flesh. She began to spur it on faster, begging silently for
more.

The images of Jon fucking Arya entered her mind. The images quickly changed to her being under
Jon instead, having him steadily fuck her with long hard thrusts of his cock. He loomed over her
sure of himself and she felt strangely safe, even as dark pools of lust ran over her. It was nothing
like Theon’s glances. Arya had changed places with her but instead of hiding Arya was right there
watching in the room. Her own hand between her thighs, carding her fingers inside her bald
entrance.

Oh gods!

Sansa gasped when she felt something in her stomach break and snap. Her legs shut close as tight
they could and she lost all form of control. A strangled low cry escaped her lips and Sansa turned
onto her side rocking on her bed as she rode through her orgasm, her body searching for something
to cling onto.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of mind shattering orgasm, Sansa felt tired. She pulled her
furs back over her sweaty body, too tired to care about how slick and wet her thighs were now or
how her furs clung to her damp body. She began to doze off with thoughts of her bastard brother
and little sister. Satisfied, she drifted off to sleep with a promise that she would make that dream
happen.
 ***

Arya was in the great hall breaking her fast the next day. Her body ached terribly and the spot in
between her legs the greatest of all. But it was a good ache. It reminded Arya of the several more
times Jon took her throughout the night.

Arya squirmed at the thoughts of what they had done. Every time they met, they always seemed to
find something new to do whether it be with Jon or her. So, involved in her thoughts she didn’t
notice Sansa until she sat beside her.

“What do you want Sansa,” Arya asked, annoyed. “Did you tell mother I was off last night?”

“No,” Sansa replied.

Arya’s eyes raised at her tone. She heard nervousness and that was unlike Sansa. Arya turned to
face her and she noted how her sister’s eyes bounced around looking to make sure anyone was
around.

“Then why are you here?” Arya asked curious.

Sansa looked at Arya. “Um I saw you two,” Color left Arya’s face in a flash. Her mouth ran dry
and a cold rush struck her like a bolt of lightning. Oh gods. Sansa continued oblivious to Arya’s
turmoil. “And I… I was, um wondering… Could you and Jon teach me how to… how to shave,
too?”

End Notes

Its been a while since I last posted. Work decided 40 hours sounds good (I'm not really
complaining, I need the money) and my school decided hey we got a 3.0 GPA student lets
kick him out since he got a D in one class. Ha that's not happening bitches. So it been a
rough ride. In good news for all of you, I have like 20 Word documents of various stories
I've been slowly chipping away at. There's a clear road coming up ahead, maybe I will get
to finishing them! Also I'm pretty solid on the idea of a sequel to A First Night in
Winterfell, I just need to put it down on to virtual paper.

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