Author's Note: Many apologies for how long it's been since I updated this story. No good excuses, but I worked on a few of my other stories, and then spent the past several months totally blocked, not writing anything. But I'm back with a direct sequel to the last chapter. Warning: this is my first attempt at writing smut, so I hope you enjoy it. And if smut isn't your thing, well, hopefully I'll have another chapter up sometime soon. As always, reviews are welcome.

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Jon was loosely aware of the fact that Arya, his sister, was naked on her hands and knees straddling him, but his mind was more occupied by her kissing him. And him kissing her. Their mouths were locked together, tongues dancing as control of the kiss rolled back and forth. Then her fingers were in his hair and his arms moved seemingly out of his control as one hand threaded her hair and the other cupped her cheek.

Finally, they broke apart, both out of breath and staring into each other's eyes. The hand on her cheek brushed downward over her shoulder and onto her back, the other hand quickly following.

And the fact that Arya was as naked as the day she was born came crashing back over him, sending conflicting waves of emotion through his mind. She must have seen something in his expression because she attacked his mouth with even more fervor than before and soon thoughts were replaced once again with sensation.

The hunger he'd been feeling for his sister, the one he'd been trying in vain to control for weeks, now blazed within him, unleashed and burning bright. His hands roamed over Arya, caressing smooth skin, sliding over and below her shoulder blades down to the dip of her back. Then he was at her ass and instinctively his fingers squeezed at the soft flesh they found there. Arya moaned into his mouth and she lowered herself so their bodies were flush, her hips pressing down on his cock, which was rock hard and straining against his small clothes and breeches.

Arya evidently felt his length pressing up against her core and began rocking her hips, either out of instinct or knowledge picked up during her mysterious journeys. He hissed as the pressure sent waves of pleasure radiating through him. Arya moaned again and then pulled back from the kiss, a knowing smirk on her face. He met her with his own smile, which turned triumphant when he rocked his hips up into her and watched as her face contorted, another moan escaping her mouth. With a growl, Jon pulled her back until their lips were again locked together.

Assured she was properly distracted, he tightened his grip around her waist and lifted them both off the ground until he was standing straight, her legs wrapped around his hips. Turning around, he, without warning, tossed her from him so that she landed with a puff of surprise on top of the mass of sheets and furs making up his bed.

Arya let loose a keening sound of need, which just poured fuel onto the fire inside him, the hunger spiraling into an inferno which needed to be sated. He nearly jumped onto the bed, straddling her just as she had done him before. He so wanted to kiss her lips, which were now red and swollen and so incredibly inviting, but he didn't wanted to be distracted from the rest of her, and there was so much to explore and discover.

Jon started at her neck, leaving a trail of heavy, wet kisses down her collarbone and to the upper swell of her breasts, which, while flattened against her chest, rose up to, in his mind, two perfect mounds, each peaked by a pebble-sized hard brown nipple. He'd been distracted before by their other activities and hadn't allowed himself the opportunity to appreciate her beauty. Now he did, and what he found was almost literally breathtaking.

It took a moment to realize he had stopped stock-still and was staring. He glanced up to Arya's face in apology, only to find her expression was one of nervous questioning. Understanding came over him. This was most likely the first time she'd allowed a man, especially one she had feelings for, to see her like this.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

Then he set out to prove the vigor of his statement. Bringing over one of the hands holding up his weight, he gently cupped her right breast, squeezing a few times before running his thumb over the hard nipple at its center. Then he lowered his head to the other breast and took its peak in his mouth, sucking at the nipple and flicking his tongue back and forth. Arya cried out louder now, her mouth free from their kissing, her voice filling the tent with the sounds of want and need.

After thoroughly lavishing both breasts with hands and tongue, he continued his trek downward, pausing briefly at Arya's navel to gently kiss her belly. Then he met the first vestiges of the brown hair protecting her sex. From that core, he could smell her, prompting him to let loose another low growl. Kneeling down to give himself better access, he looked up briefly to meet Arya's eyes, silently asking for permission to continue. After so much doubt, they were moving so fast now. He wasn't sure where this path they found themselves on would eventually lead, but at this moment, he needed her consent before moving on to the next fork, and with a silent nod, she gave it.

Still staring at her, he slid off the bed, pulling her slightly toward him, his hands pushing her knees apart to open her to him. Breaking eye contact, he looked down at the prize before him, pink flesh already glistening with her desire. He started with kisses against her inner thighs, first one and then the other, each time working his way toward her center only to break away before reaching his final destination. Arya moaned and cried, her hands clenching into fists around the furs on either side of them, but soon he could hear a growing frustration in the sounds.

"Jon, please," she whispered, the first words she'd uttered since the kiss began.

So he gave her what she wanted, kissing the outer edges of her folds, before lathing his tongue along her length. He did this several times before letting his tongue dive into her, just barely, exploring her. Arya let loose a scream and bucked his hips so hard he had to concentrate to keep contact with her. Grabbing her hips with both hands to steady her, he continued his ministrations.

After awhile, he brought one hand over, running his finger up and down her slick folds before experimentally inserting the tip into her. She was so tight against him, but the resulting cries were of pleasure, not pain, encouraging him to press deeper, Then, on a whim, he added a second finger. His thumb reached up to press against the tiny nub at her core, playing and teasing. Arya's moans turned into incoherently babbling, interspersed with some of the foulest language he had ever heard, which both shocked and enticed him to hear in his little sister's voice. It spurred him onward, interchanging his fingers, thumb and tongue, listening to her cries to guide him through the storm of her arousal.

Arya invaded all of his senses. He could taste her, a tangy nectar that felt at the moment like the elixir of life itself. He could smell her desire and his face was awash with her. Her cries filled his ears. And now her hands were everywhere, threading through his hair or pressing down on the back of his head to encourage his mouth deeper into her, urging him to bring her to completion.

He knew the moment she broke part underneath him, jerking and bucking in his grip, then frozen stock still as a scream unleashed from her tiny body. From his vantage point between her thighs, he couldn't see her face, but he imagined her head arched back, her mouth open in ecstasy. Then her body slackened and he slowed his efforts, carrying her through her release.

Crawling back onto the bed and over her, Jon found Arya's eyes closed, a smile on her face. He placed kisses around her mouth until she opened her eyes, leaning up to catch him in what he could only describe as a loving embrace. He leaned down to rest his forehead against her shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of Arya's chest. Her quick, labored breaths rustled his hair with warm puffs of air.

Jon felt Arya's arms suddenly on his shoulders, pushing him up and away from her. Before he could question her motives, she said, "You're wearing too many clothes. Take them off."

He couldn't hide the laugh that escaped him. Sitting up, he said respectfully, "Yes, m'lady." He knew his smile gave him away, but Arya still met him with a brief scowl.

Her expression turned to one of curiosity, however, when he stood up and began pulling his shirt over his head. When he could see again, Arya was looking at him with such intensity that he found himself overcome with a case of bashfulness, a tiny part of him hoping that what she saw met well with her expectations of him. Then the thought of her wanting him like he wanted her quickened his pace. After unlacing his breeches, he pulled them and his small clothes down in one go, his cock breaking free at last from its cloth prison.

Jon joined her on the bed, holding himself above her before leaning down to kiss her mouth. He slowly lowered himself, careful to keep his full weight off of her but enjoying the feeling of their naked bodies touching at last, his cock pressed between their stomachs. The kiss deepened and her felt her hand against his side, persistent until he rose enough to give her access. Her fingers reached around his length and get a few experimental tugs, not hard enough to hurt but enough to elicit a hiss of pleasure as they continued to kiss.

He felt her thumb rub over the head of his cock, which was already oozing, and he fought the urge to buck his hips against hers. He lost that battle within moments, however, and Arya moved him so his length rubbed against her moist slit which each thrust. She spread the moisture around, closing her fist around him, pumping his cock in time with him.

Despite the mind-bending pleasure, he pulled back from the kiss and looked her in the eyes, searching them for any doubts.

"I've been told the first time hurts a maiden," he said, his voice rising and falling with her motions on his cock.

She gave a nervous laugh. "I'm sure sticking your cock in me," she said, gesturing downward, "will hurt a bit, but while no man has entered me, I lost my maidenhead long ago. In fact, you are partially to blame, taking me horseback riding so often at Winterfell."

"What?" Jon asked, dumbfounded.

'Unlike the stories Sansa loved, life is always a messy affair," Arya said.

"So true," Jon replied, taking a moment to kiss her again.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted himself up and positioned his cock, feeling the head press gently against her sex. Earlier, after Arya made her confession, Jon realized that there was no returning to what they'd had before he walked into the tent with their dinners. He feared that he was losing his sister, the last of his family. Since then, they'd crossed barrier after barrier, acting as their bodies demanded and to hell with what they'd been taught was wrong and right. And before him, she was still Arya, still his sister, but now something more, something they were still discovering together.

But this next step. This last boundary between separation and wholeness was no line in the sand. It was a wall, as tall and imposing as the one he once swore to protect and forsake all others. That had been a vow he was unable to fulfill, and he wondered how he ever expected to be able to forsake Arya.

He lowered himself slightly, not enough to enter her but for both of them to feel the pressure. He met her eyes. And although it pained him, he somehow found the words he had to say.

"Are you sure?" Jon asked.

He had to know. If he were to cross this wall with her, he had to be absolutely sure of her desires, and a simple nod was not enough.

"Please Jon," Arya said, but her expression showed that she understood, on some level, his hesitation.

"I need you to say it, Arya," he said.

"Yes, Jon," she answered. "With you, always."

And then the wall was gone, as if it was never there. All that remained was Arya, his sister, naked and looking at him with such love and wanting, not just for his cock but for him, mind, body and soul.

In that moment, he realized no one else in his entire life had ever looked at him like that. He never knew his mother. Caitlyn barely tolerated his existence and would not show him kindness, let alone love. Sansa has been cordial more out of obligation than from any true fondness. Ygritte, well, he never knew what she was thinking, but he doubted it ever really amounted to love.

Only Arya had ever shown him love. She and she alone. As a sister. As a friend. Now as something more. And he felt a wave of emotions crash down on him. Fear. Love. Loathing. Desire. Sadness. Anger. Adoration. Some were directed at Arya. Some at himself. And the rest at the world lying in wait outside the tent walls, both past and future.

Arya, evidently confused by his frozen state, said softly, "Jon, not sure what happens next? You're the one who's done this before, but I'm fairly certain it is a simple affair. Just stick me with the pointy end."

He laughed and then followed her advice, pressing down to part her lower lips, and he could feel the tip of his cock sink into her. While every instinct shouted for him to bury himself to the hilt, he went slowly, trying to give her time to adjust to his girth. She moaned, and this time he could hear the hints of pain within the pleasure. Soon enough, the head of his cock was inside, her walls squeezing him like nothing he'd ever experienced.

"Are you alright," he asked.

"Yes, keep going," Arya said through clenched teeth. "Just go slowly," she added a moment later.

He thrust himself further into her, feeling her stretch to accommodate him. He pulled out slightly and thrust again, repeating the technique until he his entire length was enveloped within her velvety folds. He leaned forward to kiss her mouth, and she met him, her eyes shut against the pain.

It took every drop of control he had to stay still and give her time. He took the moment to look down at where their bodies were joined, fascinated by the sight of his cock disappearing into her. Into Arya. Into his favorite sister. They were one now. After so much time apart, they had found each other, and he vowed silently that he would protect her and they would be together as long as the gods allowed. And he knew this was a vow he would keep.

"Jon," Arya said at last. "I'm ready."

"I love you," he said in response.

And then he was moving, pumping his cock into her, trying to be gentle but admittedly failing. Soon she was moaning again, leaning up to bury her face in his shoulder, spurring him on, pounding into her harder.

Her moans heightened and now she was bucking her hips to meet the pace he'd set, their motions in sync. He was surprised when he felt her lose control, breaking off the rhythm and her body went rigid once more, her inner walls squeezing his cock like a vice.

It was enough to send him over the edge, and at the last second, he pulled himself free of her, his cock spurting out across her belly, one strand marking the lower swell of right breast. And with that, his energy failed him, his arms unable to hold her weight. He twisted so he fell next to her instead of on top of her.

They were both panting, a sheen of sweat covering both their naked bodies. He craned his neck over and kissed Arya, cutting off her panting.

"Are you alright," he asked again.

"Wonderful," she said.

Rolling over, he left her on the bed and walked over to the remains of their dinner, now scattered on the floor where it landed when Arya knocked over the table. He reached down and grabbed a cloth, dampening it in his water basin before returning to the bed. He gently cleaned her of his mess, tossing aside the cloth when he was done.

Pulling several pillows together, he propped himself against them and pulled Arya so she was sitting in his lap, cradled in his arms.

"Was it good for you?" she asked at last, that nervousness back again.

"Best moments of my life," he said. "The only thing that compares is holding you, having you with me here," he said.

"I love you Jon," she said.

"I love you Arya."