Winter Nights

It was messy. It was desperation. The meeting with the Northern Lords had lasted what had felt like forever, and Aegon was eager to tear off Jon's clothes, the impatience having so far seeped under his skin that it was itching to get out. Itching for release. Sloppily, he pushed another kiss to Jon's lips as he grasped for the door behind them to shut it. The cold iron kissed his palm, grounding him for a moment before he slammed the door shut, allowing himself to sink further into his lust-fuelled haze.

The corridor had been empty, but it had been a risky move all the same. He had shoved his brother into the door, planting his lips onto his in hot neediness. He had curled an arm around Jon's torso, so slender, as though it were made for his arms. For Jon to be held by him. Cherished by him. Jon had released a breath of relief which was a half moan when they had gotten inside of Jon's chambers, with the door shut tightly behind them.

Aegon kept walking until Jon's back thudded against the stone wall of his bedroom, and he felt his younger brother gasp, his chest shaking with the urgent need for air. Aegon did not allow him that luxury for long when he pulled back long enough to take his own gasp, and to peer into Jon's pale grey eyes, unfocused and half shut from the pleasure Aegon was thrusting upon him. He invaded his mouth with his tongue, and felt Jon shudder, barely containing the moans that spilled carelessly from his mouth. He sounded so desperate. So needy. So his.

Aegon pulled away long enough to reach for Jon's shirt. As he begun to undo it, gloved hands touched his in a smooth caress, taking a hold of them.

"We shouldn't," Jon whispered softly, as if he didn't wish to utter the words.

Daring to push him, Aegon moved his hands forwards to tug at Jon's shirt, despite Jon's atop of them. For a moment, Jon was stunned, unable to catch himself as Aegon unclasped the cloak he wore.

"Why not?" Aegon asked with a devilish edge to his tone, a mischievous smirk sending a ripple of dimples aside his lips, which Jon thought was the most adorable thing in existence. Aegon's breath was hot against Jon's cold skin, sending shivers shocking down his spine. He couldn't focus when his brother was this close. It was why they had sat a careful distance apart when talking to the Northern Lords, Sansa specifically placed in the centre to separate the two rulers.

"...Someone will hear," Jon weakly protested as the cold touched his skin. His top half was void of clothes, now, and Jon's eyes were dark with lust as he watched Aegon's face twitch into one of mischief, into a sly little smirk, and felt his hands trail down his sides. Jon was made for him.

"Who?" Aegon whispered, allowing his breath to hit Jon's winter skin again. He was hovering over his neck, his tongue flicking out to heat the skin. Jon let out a soft whine, whether it was a protest or a moan, Aegon did not know, but Jon's hands weren't pushing him away anymore, and were in the process of falling down to his sides. Aegon took that as the perfect opportunity to grasp Jon's wrists, pinning them beside his head.

Aegon pushed his forehead against Jon's, white-silver locks brushing against dark curls. He pushed his hands up and away from Jon's wrist, gently intertwining their fingers, a stark contrast from the roughness he had used to grab Jon with at the start. He started to grind against the Northern King, who bit down hard enough on Aegon's lip to cause a shockwave of soft pain and stronger pleasure.

The older male pulled back, licking his lips as his stare bore into those grey eyes. "You're so fucking hot."

Jon snorted. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot." He brought their foreheads together again. It was an action the two were extremely familiar with. Their show of love.

"...I love you."

Aegon pressed his genuine smile against Jon in a hard kiss. "I love you, too, little brother."