Here it is, the smut chapter...

Northward

When she opened the door, Daenerys was surprised to see Jon Snow standing there. The hour was late, long after she had thought everyone else asleep, or at least retired to their rooms. She paused a moment, but he made no comment to explain his presence. After the slightest hesitation, she stepped back slightly, allowing him entrance without question, but knowing not what to say.

He walked through and the door shut behind him, the sound seeming louder in the quiet of the room. Jon's face was solemn, as it so often was, betraying little. But as he stood facing her now, there was a quiet decisiveness about him that seemed different somehow than his usual expression. It made her stomach drop. Perhaps she wasn't so surprised to see him here after all, not in her heart.

They stood a few paces apart and looked into one another's eyes, but moved no closer and spoke no words. Words hardly seemed necessary, really. She knew now why he was here, and he knew she knew.

Is this right what we are about do do? Daenerys didn't know. Perhaps she no longer cared.

After a long moment, Jon slowly closed the distance between them. He reached out and gently took her by the hips and pushed her towards the wall. Still slow though, giving her every moment to speak, to object. She allowed herself to be pushed, felt the solid, cool wood on her back contrasted to the heat that seemed to radiate off of him. His hands continued to hold her hips in place. She looked up at him, at this face that had become so familiar to her in their time together. His hair bound back, as it always was. His dark eyes, face marred slightly by the scar running down the side, giving his handsome, youthful face an edge to it, making him ever slightly so menacing. When had he come to mean so much to her?

While she studied Jon, he did the same, his eyes moved all over her face, drinking in her features, moving back and forth, searching her eyes, and falling finally, inevitably to her lips. Her heartbeat quickened and his eyes darted back to hers. He nodded almost imperceptibly, as though her eyes had confirmed something for him. Then slowly, he bent down and kissed her.

It was soft, but sure. He was gentle in the same way he had pushed her against the wall. But the softness began to fade until it wasn't tentative in the slightest. Daenerys sighed with an almost relief, a release of something she hadn't been fully conscious of holding in. Her arms went into his hair and his to her shoulders as he pulled her closer. She opened her mouth and he groaned in response. Tongues duelled. It was mindless.

He pulled away suddenly. Already she missed him. Daenerys opened her eyes in confusion, her breaths heavy. She focused only to find him falling to his knees before her. She laid her hand gently on his head and he gazed up at her, still solemn, but adoring. She returned the look questioningly. Slowly, deliberately and without breaking eye contact, Jon began to push the skirt of her dress upwards. Up, up, up over her knees and then over her hips. Then after a smouldering look that gave her no doubt of his intention, he broke his gaze and leaned in.

Though she had watched all of this unfold unbelievingly, as though it was happening to someone else, now, as his mouth met her most intimate place, Daenerys gasped. She trembled. She felt his tongue and her knees began to buckle. She reached out for his head, fingers curling into his hair to steady herself. Ready for her, Jon supported her at her hip, pushing her once again back into the wall that was behind her. He then reached with his other hand to lift her left leg up, giving him more access to her. She could hear his grunt of satisfaction.

Daenerys threw her head back. Drogo had never done this, he wouldn't have dreamed of it. Daario of course had, many times. Proudly, eager to please her. But not with this... intent, this single mindedness. Drogo she had loved. Daario she had not. And Jon Snow...

Missandei was right, Daenerys thought distantly. Jon Snow had known women, or at least a woman. The thought gave her a brief twinge of jealousy, but as she felt his lips upon her, his tongue drinking her in and touching all the right spots, it drove all thinking away and she gave into the sensation.

She fell apart and her knees fully gave out, Jon supported her weight, she bent over him artlessly, so overcome as he rode her out.

Slowly, when she became aware of herself again, Daenerys looked to Jon. He was looking at her with an intensity that burned, pupils blown wide. Finally, he allowed her skirts to fall and smoothed them down her front and stood before her.

Gods, had they really not even removed their clothes yet?

"I don't know how they do things in the north Jon Snow, but where I come from, we remove our clothing before doing such things."

His lips twitched upward.

"It's cold in the North, my Queen." He said.

"it's not cold in here now." She said

"No it's not." He agreed, leaning in to kiss her again.

She felt the fire inside her awaken again.

This time, she would know him.