just let me hold you (like a hostage) - 1

Summary: Jon is back in Winterfell after spending his quarter of year with the Free Folk.
His wife has a surprise for him.
Now he has everything he has always wanted right in the palm of his hand.
Pairing: Jonsa.
WC: 3.4k words
Warnings: Smut. Teasing. Footjob under the table. Exhibitionism. Pregnancy. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (let’s pretend it is possible now, okay?)

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Part 1/Part 2

Leaving to attend to the Free Folk was physically painful for Jon. 

A week before his departure, Sansa had become sick with a cold, with her nose running the whole day, cough, fevers, and headaches so strong she couldn’t bear to leave her bedroom more than twice a day for work, and couldn’t even watch him leave. 

Every night, he wanted to come back home. The moment he left, he wanted to come back. 

It was so strange to be like this now. 

Jon remembered being a young boy, eager to leave Winterfell behind and start a life as a man of the Watch, to find his own glory beyond his bastard status and his father’s name. Now, over a decade later, he was a man eager to come back to the fortress where he’d grown up, for the girl he had had to watch from the corners and was now his wife. 

Yes, his secretwife, but his wife nonetheless. 

Not for long, hopefully. 

Ghost had stayed behind with her. His boy had gone as soft for Sansa as Jon himself had done. It wasn’t so bad - he wanted her to be safe, and he knew his direwolf would keep her safe - but it made his three months away just a little more painful. 

When it was time to come home, Jon moved faster than he had ever moved. The time it took to travel from the wall and Winterfell was a fortnight - even longer when travelling with a bigger group - but he was about to cut five of those days, and arrived home after the sun was already down and the castle was still waking up.

The fortress was slowly changing, but not to something different from what Jon remembered, no. Sansa was eager to make the castle into what it was, into the home they had both grown up inside. 

At night, when he was dreaming through Ghost’s eyes, he loved to sit and watch Sansa sewing the Stark’s wolf into banners, to hang them on the places where they belonged. He loved to sit by her feet and be embraced by her sweet scent, seeing her glorious hair falling on her shoulder and a soft smile on her face while she watched her own fingers working. 

He caught glimpses of clothes she’d been working on behind his back, always hiding it whenever Ghost was back from hunting. Gifts, maybe. Clothes she might deem more fitting to a king than what he wore in the deep North.

Jon rode through the gates with a rush when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face from afar, dismounting his horse in time to see Jeyne Pool walking into one of the internal corridors. 

At this time, Sansa should be having breakfast.

“Your grace,” he heard and turned to his side to find one of the squires rushing to him there. “We weren’t expecting you to arrive so soon!”

Of course they weren’t. Jon would have ridden a dragon home if that meant being home faster. 

“Where is the Queen?” he looked around the yard and into the castle. “Is she breaking her fast yet?” 

“Yes, your grace,” the young man confirmed. “Her majesty is breaking her fast in her study with…”

Jon walked away, not caring about the rest of it, just faking off his outer coat to adapt himself to the warmer temperature inside the walls. 

He ignored the castle servants as they bowed in respect to him, a little too eager, and just raised a single eyebrow to the guard outside Sansa’s quarters at seeing him protecting a closed door, walking inside right after he opened it. 

Brienne was standing with her hand on her sword handle, right in front of Sansa, the moment he stepped inside, and relaxed. He recognised every face in the room - Jeyne Pool, the steward and the head cook - except for one. A tall blond-haired man, wearing light blue clothes and also standing defensively. 

“Am I interrupting?”

Who the hell was that man?

Sansa’s blue eyes watched his face silently for a brief moment before she stood up, and Jon’s eyes darted to her body. 

Something was different. He didn’t quite know what, but he could see something had changed. She was glowing, happier than before. 

“Cousin,” she stood up slowly. “You are here early." 

Jon breathed in deep. 

Cousin.  Of course.

"You weren’t expecting me?” he raised his eyebrow. “Cousin.”

Wife. 

He had made her his wife under the heart tree. Lady Jeyne, who was sitting right by her side, was one of the very witnesses. 

“Not so soon,” she said simply. “I was organising a banquet for your arrival.”

“Her grace is inviting many lords of the north, my lord,” the man told him. “She wanted to give you a warm welcome.”

Oh, Jon wanted a warm welcome alright. Preferably, one where they would be along and naked, and he would be between her legs.

“Your grace,” Sansa corrected him. 

The blonde-haired man turned to her with confusion on his face. 

“Pardon, your grace?”

“My cousin is a king,” she stared coldly at the man’s face. “You shall address him as such.”

The lord went pale and quickly stood on his feet again, and bowed to Jon. 

“Forgive me, your grace,” he faced the floor. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Sansa smirked at him, sly and mischievous. 

“You are forgiven,” he decided, pulling a chair right across from her.

The lord went pale and quickly stood on his feet again, and bowed to Jon. 

“Forgive me, your grace,” he faced the floor. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Sansa smirked at him, sly and mischievous. 

“You are forgiven,” he decided, pulling a chair right across from her.

He scowled, and Sansa chewed through the fruit. 

“Lord Harrold Hardying is my cousin Robert’s cousin,” she told him, sounding amused. “It turns out Lord Arryn is in search of a wife and wants my help finding him a good connection with the North.”

Jon continued to eye the said lord, not quite satisfied. 

“I’m sure the King Beyond the Wall probably hasn’t heard a lot about anything that happens beyond Winterfell,” Harold spoke, a little too cocky. “But until my cousin is married and a father, I’m the heir of the Vale.”

Jon looked at Sansa, who had a look on her face he could quite recognise. Lord Hardying wasn’t too eager to be replaced.

“He was hoping Arya was available,” Sansa told him.

Jon laughed out loud. 

Arya? Marrying anyone?

“Lord Arryn is a perfectly suitable match for Princess Arya,” he argued.

“Of course he is,” Jon continued to laugh. 

Sansa fought a smile. 

“He indeed is, but I doubt Arya is a suitable match for Robert,” she told him in an appeasing tone. “My sister isn’t cut for marriage, and our family respects that.”

Hardying shot her a look, and she turned to look at Jon. 

“And until I have my own children, she is the heir to the North,” she continued. “And I wish to keep her available.”

Jon felt something sneaking over his leg, a soft gentle touch climbing up, caressing his knee and caressing over his thigh, and swallowed down, finding her eyes focused on him. 

The little tease.

“The Vale has done so much in helping the North and you, your grace, in conquering it back,” Hardying spoke, sounding entitled. “We merely believe we should be treated with more respect.”

Sansa’s face turned sour and the touch stopped in place.

“The only reason the bale was brought to help was that Lord Baelish brought the knights to our side,” she shot Hardying a hard look, no longer playing nice. “A man who not only betrayed me, but my parents, and killed Aunt Lysa, your lady.”

Harrold swallowed down, becoming tense. 

“The only thing I have ever owned him was justice, and I brought it to him.”

“Of course, your grace,” he said quickly. “I would never insinuate you haven’t.”

Jon’s cock was hard in his pants just from seeing and heating her fury.

“I am very aware of how much the Vale has brought to our Kingdom,” she pushed her foot further up. “Don’t ever question me again or you will be no longer welcomed into Winterfell in name of Lord Robert, and I’ll see that you are punished accordingly for insolence.”

He could drop to his knees and worship her right there.

“Please, forgive me, your grace,” Lord Hardying said quickly. “Lord Robert and I merely thought that offering the hand of the two most important men in the Vale for the women in your family would be…" 

"Proper?” Jon asked.

Sansa’s foot, naked from any shoes and socks, rested on his crotch, and he swallowed down, adjusting himself. 

She was going to do it right there? Where anyone could catch her?

“Men?” she looked at Hardying. “Lord Hardying, I have only so far heard the proposal for my sister, which I have already discussed can’t happen. Do you have anything else you wish to present me with?”

Hardying looked at Jon, who was trying to keep a straight face. Sansa’s foot was making its way up and down the gusset of his pants, and he couldn’t dare to look down, already taken by the pleasure and the situation.

“I would like to present myself, your grace,” Hardying spoke. 

He stood in his place and knelt, and Jon nearly gasped. If it wasn’t for the cloth covering the table, he would certainly see what was happening under it.

“I’m a gentleman of good breed and education,” he affirmed. “And differently from our cousin, I can and will leave my life behind to be your most faithful servant. I will fight for you and protect you, love you every day of my life and give you many heirs to fill this castle with.”

Jon wasn’t sure if he was amused or angry at the scene in front of him.

“They wouldn’t be your first children, would they?” Sansa asked, foot now caressing the length of his cock. “ If I recall correctly, you have two girls under the age of six and one more child on the way.”

 Jon swallowed down and reached for his mug, drinking tea to muffle his moan. 

Hardying didn’t move from where he knelt. 

“All with different women, I must add,” she continued, unaffected. “I have no use for a man who can’t be faithful to a woman, Lord Hardying. Or who can’t at least try to hide his indiscretions.”

Jon stared at her, and the little warning about their past. 

All was forgiven, but he shouldn’t dare to do any wrong again.

“Now leave me be,” she decided. “Send my answer to Lord Arryn and don’t come to talk to me again until you have it.”

Hardying stood up, red on the face and looking furious, but stood up and stormed off, and Sansa turned to Jeyne. 

“Now that Jon is here, he might be of help with the meal planning,” she decided. “What do you think, cousin?”

He swallowed down, sucking in a deep breath while she played with him. 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “What do you have planned?" 

"The cook suggested auroch,” she told him, eating her blueberries. “It’s a lot of people, so we need something that will please them." 

He gritted his teeth. 

"Of course,” he tried not to grunt. 

“And honey chicken,” she continued. “Ghost loves them.”

She caressed his cock head, and Jon wanted to scream. 

“He does,” he agreed.

“Meat and bacon pies,” she spoke softly. “Gage’s recipe." 

Jon closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, feeling the tell-tale signs that he was going to cum. 

"Your grace, do you need privacy?” Jeyne offered, sounding embarrassed. 

“No,” Sansa answered simply. “Do you need privacy, Jon?" 

He opened his eyes, looking at her face, and Sansa simply licked her lips. 

"No,” he grunted, grabbing his chair.

His wife moved her eyes back to the cook, and Jon could see everyone in the room was trying their best not to look at him.

“We’ll have some mushroom soup too,” she hummed slowly. “And for dessert, lemon pies of course.”

Jon tried to keep himself still, holding himself back from grabbing her ankle. If she didn’t stop, he was going to cum. 

“And blueberries with cream,” she added, smirking. “Is there anything you want to add, husband?" 

The word rolled off of her tongue softly and easily, and it lit up something in Jon’s body, triggering his orgasm. 

He creamed his pants like a green boy, moaning under her watchful and teasing eyes, while everyone tried to ignore him and his sounds, and his mind went a little blank as they continued to talk over him.

“You can go now,” she said before he could even open his mouth again. “I’ll go take a stride before I review the invitations.” 

Sansa stood up and left with Brienne on her heels before Jon could even think, and he quickly moved to his feet, looking at the whole group, and stood straighter. 

“Nothing that happened must leave this room,” he decided awkwardly. “The Queen and I… are going to announce our marriage is the correct time.” 

“Yes, your grace,” everyone agreed. 

Jon rushed out of the room, following the sounds of Sansa’s steps and the way her scent was brought by the wind, too focused on her now. 

The fucking tease, playing with him like that in front of everyone. 

He followed her down and stopped the moment he realised where she was going, seeing Brienne stopping and changing her way the moment Sansa glanced behind her back to look at Jon, who moved faster. 

They only stopped when they were at the hot springs, and Jon was quick to move to take off his shirt when she dropped her cloak and started untying her own clothes.  when his eyes caught her untying her cloak and slowly removing her dress, and stepped closer to Sansa when she threw him a look, smiling mischievously.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded. 

Jon stopped on his spot. 

Close his eyes?

“There is nothing in you that I haven’t seen,” he reminded her. 

Sansa chuckled, still with her back turned. 

“I think there is,” she said simply. “Now close your eyes.” 

Jon rolled his eyes, but closed them anyway, breathing in as the soft wind brushed through his naked body, moving the hairs over his skin, and he could hear Sansa exhale slowly. 

“You can look now.”

Jon complied, and his eyes were instantly drawn to her naked body and her perky breasts, which Jon could have sworn looked bigger - before, they couldn’t fill his hands, but he knew they would overflow his grip once he grabbed them. 

But that wasn’t the only new thing. 

Jon remembered very well running his fingers over the flat of Sansa’s stomach when they had last fucked, praying to the gods that it would change soon, that his seed would grow in her, and they would have a child. 

She wasn’t so flat anymore.

Instead, her belly had a curve to it, with her lower stomach pointing out in a way that he was surprised she had managed to hide from him, and a gentle curve starting to show over her torso. 

“Sansa,” he exhaled. 

She took a hand to her stomach, slowly rubbing it with a smile playing on her lips. 

“I found out the morning after you left,” she told him. “Sam says we can expect him to be born in four and half months.” 

He strode to her with heavy steps, unable to even breathe. 

She was pregnant, carrying his child. 

Jon fell to his knees in front of her naked body, unable to stop himself, taking his hands slowly to her stomach, resting them on both sides, moving his thumb over her belly button. 

She felt so warm, so alive. Of course, that was what was different. 

“Him?” he asked. 

Sansa put a hand over his, and he raised his eye to her face. 

“It’s a lucky guess,” she said simply. “Our boy. Our Robb.” 

Jon nodded. 

Yes, yes, their little Robb. The real King in the North. 

“Our prince,” he spoke slowly. “Our son.” 

He shot up to his feet and grabbed Sansa, kissing her lips hungrily, and Sansa put her arms over his shoulders, chest flushed against his, and Jon pulled back once he realised how it was still a secret. 

Four months and a half meant that half of her pregnancy was gone. In four months and a half, he would have to be with the Free Folk. He was going to lose the birth of his firstborn, and his first months! 

And it was still a secret. 

“We must tell everyone,” he looked at her face. “So that I can stay with you.” 

Sansa nodded, caressing his face. 

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “Our banquet will be an announcement.” 

Jon instantly smiled. 

Sansa was his wife, and now everyone was going to know that. 

He kissed her again, feeling his cock hardening again already. 

“My wife,” he growled, moving his hands over her body, completely unsure of where he even wanted to touch her. 

He wanted to feel her round kips, her round stomach and her growing breasts. He wanted to feel the way her body changed to grow hischild, how she was changing to show how much she belonged to him. 

“Sit,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to see you. Let me worship you.” 

Sansa complied silently, sitting on the branch where she had rested her cloak, and Jon was quick to move his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking her sensitive skin, and moving his hands over her beautiful body. 

Jon kissed her breasts slowly, nibbling and tasting her tender skin while his hands moved to caress her hips, and she gasped when he placed his lips over her nipple, licking it slowly, making it hard and pebbled before gently biting on it. 

“Jon,” she whined. 

He licked her peak, sucking on it, and Sansa arched her body, spreading her legs wider and reaching for his cock, slowly stroking it, making him moan. 

"Want you inside me,” she whined. “It’s been too long." 

He moved his lips away from her skin, panting.

"You teased me the whole time on breakfast,” he lined himself with her pussy. “Didn’t even care that everyone was looking at us.”

Sansa pouted. 

“I needed you,” she whined. “Besides, I’m the Queen! And you are my husband!”

He closed his eyes at the title. Her husband. Not her brother anymore, and not just her cousin. 

Her husband. 

Jon pushed his cock into her, feeling possessive and hungry, and Sansa gasped, arching her body to him, and he reached between her legs, playing with her clit and moving his lips to her breasts again, unable to keep himself away from them. 

She was going to nourish his child - his children - with them, his pups. 

Oh, how eager Jon was to see them grow, to watch Sansa grow, so round she wouldn’t be able to hide it from anyone. His queen, growing his princes and princesses. 

“Jon,” she whined. 

He pulled his hips back, fucking her slowly and playing with her at the same pace, and Sansa whined again, trying to arc her body and get more stimulation from him. 

“What do you want?” he asked against her skin. 

“Fuck me faster,” she pleaded. 

He complied, grabbing her hips with one of his hands, and was suddenly surprised when something sweet touched his tongue. 

Jon pulled away, and his hunger grew when his eyes caught the shimmering white liquid dribbling from her nipple. 

Her milk. 

He latched onto her nipple again, now hungrier, sucking on it like a man starved, ready to devour her and suck her dry. 

“Gods,” she cried out. 

He didn’t stop, fuelled by her taste, and sucked her nipple until it was red and Sansa was crying and panting under him.

She came, squeezing his cock and crying while he continued to suck on her, holding her close as he fucked her, simply turning to her other nipple and sucking again, hungry, expecting - and hoping - to have the same reaction, and moaned when he felt the warm taste on his lips, sucking and fucking her in the same frantic rhythm. 

When Sansa came a second time, she pushed her fingers into his hair, and kissed his lips with near desperation, her wet pussy squeezing his cock with a grip he recalled missing in these months he had spent away, and it was too much for him. 

Jon came inside her with a long moan, and she swallowed his sounds into their kiss, holding him closely while he panted on top of her. 

“You’re mine,” she whispered into his lips. “All mine, my husband.” 

“Yours,” he panted. “All yours.”

…

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