snacky: (narnia susan archer queen)
mr five dollar foot long's sweet caboose ([personal profile] snacky) wrote2014-09-26 05:24 pm

(no subject)

A snippet from the ongoing Narnia/ASOIAF crossover crackfic. Susan Pevensie and Jon Snow, being feelsy and sassy after some post-reunion sexytimes.



He can barely move, but he has enough strength left in him to slide off her, but he doesn't move away. Instead he stays pressed against her, not wanting any space between them, not now. He pushes his face into her neck, still breathing hard, and inhales that familiar, comforting scent. "Don't leave me, not again," he repeats, and it's a plea, he can't deny it. But he's done with being alone, done with giving up the people he loves out of duty to his oath, a duty that's brought him nothing but grief, and the bite of cold steel buried in his flesh.

Susan's fingers card through his hair, and she presses a soft kiss behind his ear. "I won't." Her voice is tender, but there's a note of amusement in it. "Look at what happens to you when I'm gone."

Jon huffs out a startled laugh. "Yes, I find myself in such trouble." He wouldn't have thought she'd joke about it, so soon after the tears she shed before. But he was fine, just as she'd promised he would be. A little sore, but alive and well, and so much the better for her being in his arms.

"I'm just glad I didn't return to find Val had stolen you." Susan's other hand rests on his hip, her thumb rubbing warm, slow circles into his skin, her soft laughter just as warm. Jon finds himself relaxing even more with each touch, and he loves her for it, for all the different ways she's healed him. "I thought that was what might occur."

"She tried," Jon tells her, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her neck. He can't kiss her enough, it seems, now that he has her back.

"Did she?" She pulls away from him, and Jon looks up at her. He can see the traces of the tears still on her face, her eyes red and swollen. But even though she looks tired, her smile is brilliant as ever when she gazes on his face.

He shakes his head. "Not really. I think she feared what you'd do when you returned. But she did call me an idiot for sending you away. Several times."

"Well, she was right about that. And I was an idiot for leaving you. But…"

"…But?"

"But I returned with what you sent me for. A shipment of food and supplies from the Vale, with more to come in three months, and then more again, every three months for the rest of the winter." She beams at him, obviously pleased with herself, and Jon can't help it, he leans in to capture her mouth with his own.

"My clever girl," he murmurs in between kisses. "See, neither of us are idiots. And you did it so quickly! I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Well…there were reasons for my urgent departure."

There's an odd note in Susan's voice, and Jon looks up at her face again. She's still smiling, but there's excitement dancing in her eyes, and he wonders at it, as he tugs at the laces of her dress. She's wearing far too much for lying in bed, especially when he's bare, and he intends to remedy that, as soon as he can. But his curiosity gets the better of him. "What did you get up to in the Vale, sweetling?" he asks. "Aside from adding to your wardrobe, I mean."

"You'll see what I got up to," she tells him, squirming away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Stop that. You haven't even complimented me on the dress, and now you want to take it off me." But she's still teasing, and Jon thinks he's never seen anything as beautiful as her smile. He pushes himself up on one elbow, watching her. Now that she's back, he never wants her out of his sight, he thinks.

"It's a pretty dress, Susan, and you look lovely in it." He reaches out a hand to her. "But you'll look even more lovely out of it. Come back here and let me show you that's true."

She just laughs at him as she stands, straightening her dress. "Oh, you're a sweet talker, Jon. But we can't spend the rest of the day in bed. Come on, let's find you some clothes." She turns to rummage through his chest of drawers.

"Why can't we?" he protests. He doesn't want to leave the bed, not now that she's here. He certainly doesn't want to pick up the mantle of Lord Commander again, not after what happened. He shudders at the memory of the cold, of his men surrounding him, knives in their hands. Daggers in the dark, he thinks, and a note of bitterness creeps into his voice. "I'm sure everyone thinks I'm murdered, or close to dead. No one's going to expect to see me up and around." He reaches his hand to her. "Susan…"

"Jon." She turns back to him, dropping clothes on the bed, taking his hand and tugging on it. "Come now. We can't hide in here, much as I'd like to."

"We should."

"We shouldn't." Susan shakes her head, and hands him a pair of breeches.

"I think I ripped your dress. Before. I'm sure I heard something tear. You'll have to take it off and mend it."

Susan laughs at him again. "Oh, clever you. But no, you didn't tear my dress. Just my smallclothes, and I’ll take those off, shall I?” She reaches under her skirts, and wiggles her hips, until they fall to her feet, and she steps out of them.

Jon knows his mouth is gaping open as he stares. "Do you think that's going to make me want to get up and dressed, when I know you'll be walking around with nothing underneath?"

She leans over the bed, and he can see the excitement on her face again, as she presses a quick kiss to his mouth. "Jon. Get dressed. You need to see what I brought back from the Vale."

He flops back against the pillows. "Can't you just bring it in here to show me?"

Susan looks thoughtful, as if giving his complaint careful consideration. "Well… I could. Although I'd think you'd want to at least put your breeches on before seeing your sister."

"Breeches? Wait… my sister?" He freezes, and no, he can't have heard that right. But Susan is beaming at him and nodding, and Jon wonders for a moment if his heart is actually going to stop beating, and if her cordial could heal that too. "Arya?" He's been waiting for her arrival for so long, worrying over her fate. Could this be something else the Red Woman was right about?

"No, my darling." Susan's voice is gentle as she cups his cheek in her hand. "Sansa. She's here, and I know she wants to see you. So perhaps you can put on your clothes and greet her?"

Jon's already out of bed before she finishes speaking, pulling on his breeches. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Well. We were busy," Susan says, laughter in her voice once again. "And you seemed rather intent on fucking me, as the state of my smallclothes will attest."

For a story I'm not writing, I spend a lot of time working on it. :D

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