"Jon, what's wrong?"
You watch him hack away at a straw dummy. He stops at the sound of your voice, turns to check for a stray person or an acquaintance in the vicinity before grabbing hold of you and taking you to one of your secret places.
His lips are on you immediately, desperate, hungry, and rough. He pulls away quickly, leaving a clear strand of saliva connecting your mouths.
"What's gotten into you," you ask gently.
"Has anyone else bedded you," he blurts out suddenly, causing a bright red tint to cover your cheeks.
"W-what!?" You sputter incredulously, "Jon Snow, what nonsense in the seven hells are you spouting?"
He looks away, as embarrassed as you but he persists. "I heard Theon say that he took your maidenhead last night," he reveals quietly.
You giggle.
"What," he frowns, "it's not funny."
You cup his face in your hands and give him a sweet, lingering kiss, "that's absurd."
"Knowing that bloke he-"
You kiss him again, cutting off his train of thought, then you stand on the tips of your toes, lean into the crook of his neck, and envelop him in a warm embrace. His arms wrap around you instantaneously.
"We both know you were the first one in," you whisper huskily into his ear.
He flushes at the memory.