a/n: I couldn't take it anymore, so you're welcome. My poor little heart. Enjoy.

JON

The wooden planks echoed under his feet.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

He sighed. Turned.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Jon's heart was pounding. He could feel it, hear it. Strong in his chest. For every step, there were three.

Thunk.

Thump thump thump.

Thunk.

Thump thump thump.

Thunk.

Thump thump thump.

Hammering so hard it was painful.

Did he dare?

How could he dare?

He must. He couldn't take it another second. His heart would explode.

He'd never felt like this. This….anxious anticipation. The fear.

Oh, gods, what if she doesn't feel the same?

But the way she had looked at him….their conversation in the dragon pit…

The way she looked at him and held his hand on the boat…

There was something…extraordinary there. Something he could not explain. He was drawn to her. And she to him.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

He could go to her, here now, it was his opportunity…there would never be a better one, as the long night would come for them as soon as they stepped ashore – Like this hadn't been in the forefront of his mind when he suggested she sail with him instead of riding her dragon – Or he could sit here in his cabin, pacing, wearing a hole in the solid wood planks beneath him until he fell below decks from wearing them so thin….like a coward.

He took a deep, steadying breath. The well-oiled hinges were silent as he gently opened the thick wood door.

DAENERYS

Her pillows and bedding were soft. The gentle rocking of the boat and the soft sounds of the sea could do nothing to soothe the torment going on in her head.

Jon.

His name echoed in her head, over and over again. Come unbidden to her mind were sweet, soft images of whispering that name into his soft curls and his skin…what would his skin feel like against hers?

Jon.

She had not felt this. She had never felt this…anticipation. This need. She couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight. It was painful. The pain she had felt ever since she had seen her baby fall through the air…she had not thought it possible…she still didn't quite believe….

But it was dulled by this. This need. This want.

Jon.

She needed him. She needed him so badly it ached. Ached deep in parts of her. She had not felt this. Never felt this. Not even with Drogo. Not this all-consuming need. She wanted to kiss every single one of those scars…she hadn't been able to stop fantasizing about it ever since she'd seen them.

Jon.

The burning in his eyes. She had seen it there. Strong as fire.

She wanted him. Their conversation in the Dragon Pit had made her need all that much stronger. Had he done it on purpose? Had he known she would be consumed with this…need for him to show her that the Witch had lied?

Have you ever considered she might not be a reliable source of information?

Yes, but the scaly monster she had birthed from Drogo…. Her miscarriage with Daario, that tiny husk of a baby, if you could call it that…it had had scales…was not entirely human…she'd called for Missandei in shock because she couldn't stand to look at the terrifying monster anymore…her child…so small…of course she could get pregnant, but what kind of child could she ever have?

But Jon…

There was something deep inside of her that called to him. A Fire in her blood that pulled her towards him, like it had pulled her towards the Fire she had birthed her children from…it called to her…she needed him….but the dead were coming…there was no time…

Jon.

You had better take advantage of what little time you might have left, she thought. Gods knew she never had enough time…not with Drogo, not with Viseryion…would she squander the time she had with Jon Snow, as well?

There was a knock at the door.

ICE AND FIRE

Jon took a deep breath. Dare he do this? He would just talk. Talk about this unspoken thing between them. He had to get it out. Had to tell her how he felt. If this was all the time left in the world he had with her…he had to tell her.

"He loved her."

He hesitated. Took a deep breath, then held it. He knocked on the door. Oh, gods, there's no turning back now.

It's probably Missandei, thought Daenerys, snapping out of it. Or Tyrion, wanting to know if I've settled in.

She shook the thoughts of Jon Snow out of her head, and walked towards the door.

The door opened. Their eyes met. Daenerys' eyes widened. Her heart began hammering. It was the last person she had been expecting to see but knew all along she had been hoping for.

"And she loved him."

That fire in his eyes. That intense look. She had never seen anything of it's like in her time. She immediately knew–hoped–what he was there for. She would have to be blind not to see. Her heart burst out of her chest. He was looking at her that way. Dark and lustful and husky.

Her eyes were soft. She knows, he thought. How could she not? It was written all over his face. Without breaking the intense eye contact between them, she opened the door wider and stood aside to let him in.

And in he stepped, with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. He couldn't take another minute of restraining himself. Her pulse quickened. She was rooted to the floor beneath her, like she'd been shocked, as his hand closed around the door and he turned around, his eyes meeting hers again with a jolt. She was not even aware she was not breathing.

She was aware, however, of the soft click of the door closing beside them, of the solid mass of his arm so close to her, immediately making her feel very small and very safe. She was so aware of his scent, the first notes of salt from the sea, and the hard smell of his leathers…and that wonderfully manly husk that made every one of her senses come alive. She felt like she could breath again. The skin of her neck tingled. Just wrap your arms around me, I need to be surrounded by you.

His hand slid off the door and she immediately missed the presence of his halo around her.

"Daenerys…" he said, his voice coming in little more than a husk. "I…"

He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't

"Jon…" she whispered. Her whole body ached with the release of the word that had been floating in her head for hours.

He took a step closer. He was so close. She felt surrounded. Safe. She felt the warmth radiating off him like fire. She had been so cold since she had landed in Westeros. She didn't feel cold now.

Her eyes were what drew him in. Her beautiful, violet eyes…they had trapped him since he had first looked into them…they had trapped him all the way across the throne room of Dragonstone as Missandei had read out all of her titles. How far they'd come. He had not been sure then if they would fight or fuck then, but now…

His fingers brushed her cheek, shocking her. Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her neck craning towards him. Her eyes lowered to his lips. Those beautiful lips. She wondered how they'd feel against hers…

"My Queen," those lips whispered, questioning. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore.

"Kiss me," she breathed, commanded.

And he did.

Fire erupted at the point where their lips met. Was this how it ended? Was this how they would die? Light-headed, unable to breath, every nerve and fiber of their being alight…a fire that had burned deep within both of them suddenly raging…Jon felt the ice melt, the cold he had not been able to shake since he had gone to the wall…suddenly, it was gone, and he didn't need his furs. The ice was gone.

There was only the Fire.

Was this what it meant to be the blood of the dragon? Was this how Daenerys felt? How every Targaryen felt? Jon wondered.

And she did, she felt the blood of the dragon awaken in her, the part that had been wounded and writhing in pain since Viserion's death burned again…roaring within her.

Dracarys, it demanded of her.

He gripped her head in both of his hands, she felt dizzy…but he was there to catch her. Their kiss, which had been so soft and gentle and light, suddenly deepened. Her palms cupped her jaw, setting a warmth there radiating through the rest of her skin.

Jon inhaled the scent of her skin as he deepened the kiss…he wanted to crawl inside her and never leave. He wanted to eat her…eat every part of her. Their tongues intertwined. He felt like he was home. Like he belonged there. He never wanted to leave.

Suddenly he slammed her against the door. He could not get close enough to her on his own. He needed leverage. She was trapped and she loved it. His lips left hers so he could look at her. She was beautifully flushed. Their eyes met. She couldn't breath. His eyes were so dark…

The door jiggled on it hinges and hit the frame with a soft thud as he kissed her deeply again, banging her against it. She felt her feet leave the floor without her consent and wrap around his waist, his hands gripping her bottom tightly to support her.

What a perfect bottom, thought Jon as he squeezed it. Perfect for riding a dragon. But she was the dragon about to be ridden.

He growled like a wolf as he slammed her against the door, securing her in his arms, catching her lips in his with every breath. She was the only air he needed.

Her arms gripped his shoulders tightly, the leather creaking beneath her strong grip. His neck was soft and solid, the soft baby hairs tickling her fingers as it flowed through them. He growled again. Her heart raced. She needed to tease him more. Gods, she needed to tease him more.

She resisted him, pulling away, denying him her lips. He inhaled sharply, their mouth open, and met her eyes with a demanding fire. His lip twitched. She couldn't tell if he was amused or angry. She felt her lips pulling into what might have been a smile, what might have been a snarl, and he captured them again, more fiercely than before, knowing she might get away, and pulling her tighter.

He lifted her, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and suddenly she felt weightless, like she was lighter than a feather to him, and he effortlessly swooped her towards the bed, where she fell with a soft swoosh of air releasing from the feathers of her bed. His hands were on her head again.

Gods, he wanted to tangle his hands in her hair. But he had no idea how to undo the fancy braid her hair was wrapped up in, and he didn't have time for that nonsense anyway. He was the wolf, and she was the dragon, (or were they both dragons at that moment? He couldn't tell…) and he would have her. Now.

His lips moved down from hers, kissing the corner of her soft lips, then the cheek…the soft skin of their cheeks pressed together and she kissed there, inhaling deeply…she had never smelled anything so wonderful in her life.

Her neck was soft and wonderful….he could bury himself in it forever. He wanted to kiss in that sensitive spot under her jaw until he died, want to listen to those soft sighs forever. He caught her earlobe up in his teeth, and she inhaled sharply and her back arched into him. Kissed his way down but was met only by the edge of her collar. He growled in frustration and pulled back.

To come all this way to be foiled by her damn clothes, he thought wildly.

They unfastened, he found that out quickly, they were a simple hook-and-eyelet configuration (gods, he'd been hanging out too much with Sansa, why did he know this nonsense?) and he quickly undid every single one of them, thanking whatever gods there were that he'd been paying attention to his sister in some part of his brain.

Daenerys wore a dress underneath the robe, and he suddenly hated that she wore so many layers like armor. He cursed winter for making her so cold.

But she was not cold, as layer after layer got removed from her burning skin by the King in the North's deft hands. Every inch of skin that became exposed was quickly covered with his warm mouth, setting her very soul on fire until there was nothing left of her armor or the cold, only skin and fire and…

Jon.

She pulled him up to her lips again from where he had been kissing the skin between her pelvis and her hip, swallowing his lips in hers. The rough leathers scraped at the inside of her delicate thighs. She needed to feel his skin against hers…needed it so badly she would light the world on fire if she didn't get it.

She started to work at the fastenings of his leather armor and quickly found she was out of her depth. He smiled, and pulled back, standing up as he began to strip for her. She smiled softly, breathing heavily through her nose, and made herself more comfortable on the bed to watch, propping her head up on her elbow, aching with need. She squeezed her legs tightly shut to relieve the pressure created between her aching thighs.

Layer after layer of his armor came off, and yet Jon did not feel exposed, he stood almost naked and vulnerable in front of this beautiful woman who watched, her eyes dark with hunger. Everything had fallen to the floor except his thin layer of britches that was a large tent in front of him.

Small pecker, Tormund's voice echoed in his head, and suddenly he felt embarrassed. Did he have a small pecker? Would it be enough for her?

Daenerys sat up. Perhaps she sensed his anxiousness. Would she tell him to leave?

She's so beautiful. His heart ached. If she told him to leave he would die, he was sure of it. Chop his cock off and live like Theon and Varys and the Unsullied. What use would it be anyway if it could not please her?

The thought had not even crossed her mind. Why did men think women cared about such things, anyway?

Her only thought was of exposing every inch of that wonderful cock and feeling it inside her.

Suddenly she surrounded him, her arms wrapped around his waist and kissing his stomach, not kneeling but sitting on the edge of the bed. She was the Queen. She would never kneel, he thought. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband and unbuttoned his britches, and suddenly they fell in a heap around his ankles, and there he stood in all his glory. She stood back and looked at him hungrily. Daenerys flushed from top to toes in anticipation. They looked into each other's eyes again. And suddenly he was on her, pulling her up towards him, all insecurities forgotten, everything forgotten but her.

He grabbed her head and captured her mouth in his, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his skin pressed against hers and she was on fire again, much less satisfied than she thought she'd be by the touch of his skin. No, she needed more.

"Jon," she breathed between fiery kisses.

He moaned, heart aching with need. He threw her on the bed again, and kneeled on the floor before her.

"My Queen," he whispered, "My Queen." Again and again against her skin in between kisses, lighting her heart on fire with every repetition. And suddenly he was kissing her, down there.

She gasped, then exhaled, sharp, short intakes of breath as his tongue moved against her folds.

She smells wonderful, she tastes wonderful.

He didn't know how to describe the taste. There was nothing else like it in the world. Her moistness was thick and creamy and tasted somewhat like a fine olive brine, but sweeter and better. Ygritte hadn't tasted like this in the cave. Hers had been thin and slightly salty mixed with the hard scent of the road. But Daenerys tasted like a Queen.

Jon had heard that woman's mucuses tasted different at different times of their cycles, and the men had said the taste was the best and thickest when they were most fertile, when their womb would quicken with a hardy man's seed, and tasting it with his tongue and feeling it with his fingers was the only way to tell. Jon wondered if his Queen was during that time.

He hoped she was.

I can't have children, she had said, her eyes full of pain. He could tell, immediately, that she had never wanted anything more in the world, not even the iron throne, more than she wanted a child in her arms.

He wanted to prove that vile witch that had killed her husband and told her she would never bear children very, very, very wrong. Wanted nothing more than to give Daenerys the child she had always wanted. That he had never known or allowed himself to know he wanted.

He had never wanted to bring a bastard in this world. But this child would not be a bastard. He was determined about that.

The Weirwood tree waited for them at Winterfell. Of that he was certain. It made sense, politically and ….well, for other, more personal reasons. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. It was only now, with his face buried deep between her legs, the taste of her on his tongue, the wonderful scent of her engulfing his nostrils, her curls tickling his nose, and the sound of her soft, stuttered moans filling his ears that the world finally came together. Of course they would get married. Of course they would defeat the white walkers together. Of course she would sit on the Iron Throne. It was destined. Fire and Ice. She was Fire. He was Ice. What else in the world was there but the two of them?

For Dany, she could think of nothing, her mind was nothing but blackness as her eyes squeezed shut and the waves of pleasure rolled between her legs and up her torso. Every time his tongue encircled the tiny nub between her folds, a new wave of pleasure jolted her body. She had never been kissed like this before, not by Daario, and definitely not by Drogo. She never even knew it was possible to feel this wonderful. She felt…worshipped. Every nerve in her body was alight, and she was not in control of her hips bucking against his mouth.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her legs, so her could keep his mouth on her moving hips. He moaned into her, vibrating every single cell of her being and and she moaned and sighed, tears pricking her eyes from the pleasure and release of the pain deep within her.

Her eyes shot open and she looked down at him. She had a sudden need to see him. She had never seen anything more beautiful. His eyes were closed, his face soft, so absorbed in his task. The world was still for what felt like an eternity as she watched him bob up and down between her thighs. Suddenly his eyes opened and their gazes met, and Daenerys felt her whole body melt and come alight at the same time.

"My King," she whispered, breathless.

He stopped. Looked up at her. His beard glistened with her wetness. His mouth was open in surprise. That he had never expected, but her calling him by his proper title (that he had never felt he deserved, really) awakened something…very primal in him. And strangely he felt the need to dominate her, which he quickly shoved back down. She is the Queen, he told himself forcefully. You do not dominate a Queen.

And suddenly, very suddenly, Daenerys felt very small and very submissive. It surprised her, because she had spent the later half of her life trying to overcome that feeling of helplessness. But this was….different. It made her feel…strangely empowered?

She guided him off of her, delicately telling him to stand up. She slid off the bed onto the floor. His breath caught in his throat. She was the one bending the knee. To him.

"My King," she whispered again.

She looked up at him with doe-eyes from her position below him. He couldn't breathe. How could he have ever gotten so lucky as to see the sight of the most powerful woman in Westeros kneeling before him? Her hands gliding across his skin? Her hands grabbing…? Her mouth kissing….? Her mouth closing around….?

Oh…..

Oh gods…

Daenerys had never done this before, but she was suddenly wondering why she never had. His breathless moans were the most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard in her life.

"S–Stop…" he stuttered, breathless. "I – I can't – I won't be able to hold it– oh f-fuck–"

She stopped immediately and laid back on the bed.

He took a moment, breathing deeply, his cock twitching, heart pounding. No one had ever done that to him before.

Keep it together, Snow, he thought desperately to himself, breathing heavily. Keep it together. Fuck.

He opened his eyes.

She was looking at him softly with those violet, doe eyes, soft and gentle and understanding. Her skin glowing softly in the candlelight. She was so beautiful.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed.

Her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly tears pricked her eyes. She knew this, she was not blind, had been told it before, had been told many variations of it, had heard ballads praising the Queen's beauty before, but this…. She realized she had never really believed any of it until Jon Snow said it to her like that. All those years of Viserys telling her what an ugly little girl she was suddenly faded in light of Jon Snow telling her how beautiful she was. She needed to hear it again and again until that ugly voice in her head was gone.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered again, as if he knew she needed to hear it.

He slid into bed next to her, and she climbed on top of him, sliding a leg between his and covering his body with her gentle weight and he wrapped his arm around her. Her breasts were soft against his chest. And they were kissing again, softer than before but needier. He cupped her head in his hand gently like she would break if he touched her. He felt her soft hand on his side, caressing his skin.

She pulled away slightly, teasing him again, needing to feel him need her, and oh gods did he ever need her. He followed her movements, please don't pull away, I need you. Don't you dare.

She must have pushed him too far because quite suddenly he flipped her over, dominating her. And that submissive feeling came back, stronger than before. The wetness between her thighs suddenly felt cool air as he parted her thighs with his knees. She was so wet that his cock accidentally slipped in, just from the change in positions, and she gasped. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

Wet as a baby seal, Tormund's words of wisdom echoed in Jon's head.

Gods, he was a proper lover, thought Daenerys. No one had ever taken the time or thought to make sure she was so wet and needing beforehand, like he had. Daario had just put it in when she was still a bit dry, clumsy as he was though never bad, and Drogo had always shoved it in, like it was his right. It had always slightly hurt, and she had just assumed that was part of sex, but Jon Snow had shown her the error of her ways. She would never accept anything less again. And something told her she wouldn't have to.

He would always take care of her. She knew it deep down in her heart. She would never be alone in the world ever again with him by her side. She would never be raped or abused or used ever again. She would not allow it, but neither would he. In all her years of life, she had never met a man like Jon Snow, King in the North. Hers. And he would protect her. Even when she didn't think she needed it.

She felt his forehead against hers and his hot breath on her mouth. She couldn't breathe and yet couldn't do anything but, holding him tightly as he cradled her beneath him. She had never been in this position before, but it felt so natural and wonderful and simple. This was where she was meant to be.

Her legs fell further apart. His hand came above her head but did not touch, but rested on the pillow, and she felt safe and protected.

He moved deeper into her, and she was so wet it didn't hurt a bit. He pulled back, and her muscles tightened around him. He drew his tongue up her mouth and nose. Gods, she thought, her heart racing. "Yeah," he breathed, in response to her walls tightening.

He thrusted into her again, so deep that she felt him hit a spot deep within her, she moaned, exhaling a shaky breath of pleasure.

Then his lips captured hers, and she felt dizzy, even lying down. She pushed against his lips with need and desire, and he pushed back firmly, always there. Her heart raced. His heart raced. They felt complete, as one. Nothing in the world felt as perfect as the two of them.

And suddenly his lips were gone, and she gasped. No!

Except he was looking at her. Into her. His eyes…oh, gods, his eyes… and…Daenerys felt…him…felt him inside her heart…she felt it…burst, a sudden explosion of such a strong feeling that she could not define. It was so strong it made her weak. And suddenly she knew…she knew that she would give up everything for this man, give him anything he wanted….give him anything… even the Iron Throne. Love comes in at the eyes, Khaleesi. And suddenly she understood. Everything finally made sense.

She loved him.

Jon knew, looking into her eyes. Suddenly, he knew. He felt it in his heart. He would never, ever leave her. No matter what duty called him. If they failed and the White Walkers took over the world, he would take her and run. Suddenly, he knew. Love is the death of duty, and Maester Aemon's words finally made sense. His father's actions now made sense. Suddenly everything made sense.

And he loved her.

"He's never been a bastard. He's the Heir to the Iron Throne."

Drawn to each other, like magnets, their lips met again, and fire consumed them.

How long they made love, Daenerys did not know. It could have been hours. Could have only been a few minutes. But they were the most wonderful moments of her life. Nothing compared to the feeling of him thrusting into her, and her hips coming up to meet his. His cock hit that sweet spot over and over and over again until she came, hard and slow, Her body arching like she was possessed by spirits to meet his hips, pulsing, moaning, and when he felt her come, he could not hold it a second longer. He let out deep gusts of breath as his seed spilled deep into her womb, and she moaned as she felt the hot jets of cum hit the back of her as her walls spasmed rhythmically in time with his heavy, hot sighs.

She doubted his seed would quicken, but hope crashed in like a painful tidal wave. Please give me a child, Jon Snow, she thought, wildly, irrationally, begged.

Please.

They lay there together as their pleasures faded, his cock growing soft inside her as he still thrust gently and slowly to bring them both back down. She could feel his seed settle deep inside her more with every thrust. They stroked each other's faces and hair and looked into each other's eyes, unable to look away. His fingers brushed her temples and every stroke furthered softened the muscles in her face and body. A warm glow grew from within her. The raging fire had faded to soft, glowing, undulating embers, and she suddenly felt very sleepy.

They kissed again, softer, more gently. A slow-burning kiss that made them both sigh heavily at the end of it. He buried his face in her neck and she felt the full weight of him on top of her. She felt herself fully relax for the first time in a very, very long time. And so did Jon.

They just lay there together, fully inhaling each other's scent, enjoying the feeling of their warm afterglow, and Jon softening slowly inside of her, warm and snug and safe.

Dany began to doze.

She woke suddenly after what felt like ages, but in reality could have only been a few moments, to him rolling off her, and his seed spilled a bit. She quickly clamped her hand firmly over her hole, preventing anymore from spilling out, and resettled herself, snuggling up into his chest, removing her hand and placing it on his chest. She pressed her thighs together and angled her body so she felt it drip deeper into her instead of sliding out. He wrapped his strong arms around her, cradling her. They tucked their feet underneath the loose covers, and Jon pulled them up above her shoulders and held her tightly, and she felt warm and safe as she felt the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart.

"I love you, Jon Snow," she whispered gently.

His head raised, his hand cupped her jaw, guided her to look up at him. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, my Queen," he murmured. And she felt her heart explode one last time as her kissed her, ever so gently.

And together, they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, without nightmares or vivid dreams of falling dragons and ice and the dead. No fear of the long night could touch them in their soft, candlelit cabin where their love burned so brightly in the dark.

For the night is dark and full of terrors.

But they could face them.

Together.

a/n: please fav and REVIEW if you liked it! My god, my heart can't take this shit. I fucking love them so goddamn much and I haven't been able to stop fantasizing about them for two fucking seconds. Kill me now I can't wait two more years for more. Also I am SO SO SORRY ABOUT THE TEXT BEING BROKEN BEFORE. I made a stupid mistake by copy and pasting in my rush to get this out. (I lost my word docs with my new computer, so I had to write it on google docs, and I published it first on my tumblr and I made some edits there, and I tried to copy paste straight from there to the doc manager, and I DIDN'T PREVIEW which was DUMB AF I'M SO OUT OF PRACTICE. KILL ME NOW SO EMBARRASSING)

EDIT: Thank you SO MUCH to the reader who pointed out that is was actually TORMUND not Davos that mentioned Jon had a small pecker, I don't know how I could have forgotten that considering how many times I've watched this damn show. omg xD