AN:

This thing operates under the assumption that Jon Snow is really Lyanna's son. I wanted it to be a reader insert, but apparently that's a no-go. Also, this is my first attempt at anything sexual. Soooo, enjoy.

Surely the old gods were laughing in his face.

Jon was not a naive man, he knew the hand he was dealt, and he played it the best he could. Despite being a bastard, he counted himself lucky he had a father like Ned Stark, and brothers who loved him. His years at Winterfell had been good ones, with the exception of the way Lady Catelyn had treated him, and he should not, would not, complain. Even now at the age of 17 he was still provided with a safe home, delicious food, kinship, and a warm bed. All of this helped ease the dull throbbing pain and self doubt that festered in the back of his thoughts, out of sight and occasionally out of mind.

lately, though, it had become harder and harder to come to terms with what he was, and how he was feeling. And the latter was not driven by the first, at least, not directly.

His emotions were swirling out of control, and he was trying desperately to get a grip on himself. His inner turmoil had slowly been building over the past 3 years, and was nearing it's boiling point. It had crept up behind him like his family's own sigil. A wolf, quiet and surefooted in the harsh snows of the north. If he looked over his shoulder he could catch fleeting glimpses of the ruthless predator, but that wasn't enough to stave off the inevitable onslaught. A carefree smile, and knowing glance, the feeling of Annalysa's delicate fingers grasping his arm as they walked to dinner. Slowly but with a startling certainty she had chipped away his defenses and left his mind open to her; his heart was vulnerable to her unknowing advances, and his body to the dull ache that stirred in his chest and abdomen awhen she was near.

A dry chuckle forced it's way out of his mouth and past his chapped lips at the thought.

He both hated and loved her for it.

Jon had come to realize that he loved her in a way no brother should. He knew he was disgusting, and shameful, and unworthy of being even half a Stark, but none of that could dampen the need he felt for her. He wanted her time, her attention, her body, and the happy life he had often daydreamed about having with her. He yearned to lie with her as a man would his wife, he wished it would be her who would bear him children, and he needed to ensure she was safe and happy.

He could do none of this.

He was destined to take the black like his uncle Benjen. He was condemned to forsake love, family, and Lys, for a chance of making a name for himself and recovering the honor he was denied upon birth.

This isn't what stung him though. If he could have known his sister's affections for even just a day before leaving the wall, he would have been content. If he thought for even a moment that Lys wanted him and needed him even a 10th he did her, he could have died happy.

Jon, however, had no intention of exposing her to the shame his love would cause, and himself to what would be her inevitable disdain, disappointment, and disgust. Loving your sister in such a manner, even if she shares only half your blood, is wrong.

Of all the reasons he wished he were not born Ned Stark's bastard, this was the biggest one.

Analysa was born the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Like the rest of the Stark children she took after her mother in most things. She had the Tully coloring, her sense of pride, and the innate generousness that made her well liked with most. One thing she had not inherited from her mother, however, was Catelyn's disdain for Jon Snow.

In fact, Jon was her favorite Stark, even if he wasn't one. Sure she loved Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and on most occasions Sansa, but Jon held a special spot in her heart. When they were much younger, Lys would follow them around and beg them to play with her. Robb always claimed to be too busy "studying" to be the future head of the Stark family, but Jon would always look at her with his sad, kind eyes and take her off to the library to read or out to the stables to pet the horses.

Lys smiled at the memory and paused her needle work to check on Arya and Sansa. The three of them had been practicing their stiches before lunch, so that they could have the afternoons to themselves. To no huge surprise, her oldest sister was taking great care with her work, and on the other side of the room Arya could be seen wrestling the thread. She shook her head and stood, gaining the Septa's attention.

"I've finished my needlework early today, would you mind looking over it?"

Though it was a bit sloppier than usual because she was trying to get it done quickly, her teacher saw it as fitting of a lady of her stature and she was allowed to leave her lessons to attend to her "duties". She could hear Arya complaining as she left the room, and Sansa chastising her shortly after.

Analysa didn't make it a habit to cut her lessons early- like her youngest sister- but she had no qualms with fudging it a bit if it meant that she would have time to watch Robb and Jon as they sparred. Lately she hadn't seen much of them, and she missed their company and light hearted banter dearly. She also missed watching Theon getting put in his place.

She hummed to herself as she turned the corner into the training grounds and found a spot suitable to watch the boys take swings at each other with the wooden practice swords.

She watched as Robb and Jon exchanged calculated blows and chuckled when they made their witty remarks. She observed the way Robb would pivot his feet, and the manner in which Jon would angle his wrist. Watching her boys was truly one of her favorite things. Sometimes she would do so even when they weren't fighting. Her mother said her observant nature would suit her well when she was married and helping to run her husband's affairs.

She would notice how Robb would subconsciously straighten his back and throwback his shoulders when father entered the room. She even noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Rickon.

The same went for Jon. She loved that when he was truly smiling his eyes would crinkle, and how when he was worried his eyebrows would knit together and his countenance darken. Really, she just loved Jon. He was simply the best.

She had realized lately how much he had grown, too. He wasn't the boy who would sit with her in the library and read tales of noble warrior princesses and dashing knights. At the age of 17, her brother Jon Snow was a man, and a handsome man at that. Though some women might not find the solemn stark face appealing, she thought the strength and honor it held was just as great as any strong jaw or high cheekbones. She hoped that whatever lord she married he would be just as handsome, and at least half the man Jon was.

As practice neared it's end and the boys wrapped up, she called out to them from her comfortable spot on the balcony. They exchanged smiles and pleasantries as the boys cleaned up, and she flew down the stairs so she could meet them on their way out.

"Jon, Robb! You were excellent today." She sent them a pretty smile and took her place at their sides. A brisk nod behind her "Theon".

"Come now, M'lady, no need to be so cold. We both know the real reason you come to watch is to see me." Raising her eyebrow, she ventured a reply. "Hardly. I come for Jon and Robb." "How about I make you come for me sometime? We have a moment before lunch starts. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most"

Theon's brazenness caught everyone off guard, even though it really shouldn't have. Jon was the first to react, a base need to protect Lys and her honor had him whipping around, fist raised. Robb's shock cleared just in time to grab him under the arms and yank him back, but not before Jon had managed to deal a blow below his eye. Lys just stood there staring at the scene in front of her. Theon had always said those sort of things to her, and never once had Jon actually hit him for it. They might exchange harsh words or angry stares, but this had never happened before.

She was delighted that Theon got what he was due, and that Jon had reacted the way he did, but at the same time she knew this wouldn't bode well for him. He had been testier and more quick to anger lately, and she feared what would happen if he and her mother had a confrontation over what had just occurred.

It took a few minutes, but Jon regained his composure. Sensing that it was safe to let go of Jon, Robb briskly loped over to where Theon was sitting on the hard ground, clutching his face. "Lys, take Jon somewhere, I'll handle him."

She nodded and made her way over to the dark haired man, being sure to tread lightly. The last thing she wanted was for Jon to get angry and snap at her. She didn't know if any of them could handle that right now. However he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he spared her a glance and let her tug him away from the scene and towards one of the tall stone structures before them. He didn't notice which one.

Jon was angry. He was angry with Theon for speaking the way he did with his Lys. He was angry with her for the way she put up with his lecherous comments and stares, and most of all he was furious with himself. His stomach churned with a fury wholly unfamiliar with him. He was furious he had no control over his emotions, and that he loved his own sister. He was frustrated and hurt that there was no hope of receiving her love in return. He was irate that he was so weak, that he couldn't do a single thing about it.

His fingernails dug into his palms and his knuckles turned white.

The feeling of hands clutching the rough woolen fabric above his abdomen was enough to break his thoughts. All the rage that had been burning heavy on his breast shot straight down to his groin at the intimate contact between his sister's hands and his stomach.

He nearly let out a strangled groan when he saw Lys' demure expression. She looked up at him through her lashes and seemed to be talking. He couldn't make out what she was saying though, not when she was so close to him. He could practically taste the indistinct murmur of her voice on his lips. The sweet words she spoke in an effort to console him flew right over his head, and straight to his cock.

Jon had never been with a women before, and everything that was happening was nothing short of a maelstrom. He had no hope of controlling himself. He couldn't be near her, or he would do something they would both regret.

"Jon, please!" her voice grew an octave higher when she realized he wasn't listening to her. "Can we please just talk! I've hardly seen you this past month and you're clearly upset! Just tell me what I can do to help make this better, to help make you feel better!"

Jon grasped her warm hands in his trembling ones and pushed her away from his body as gently as he could manage in his agitated state.

"I'm not feeling well. I won't be at lunch. Go." "But Jo-" "Dammit, I said go Analysa"

Startled, she took a step back.

Jon saw the hurt in her eyes, and the way her lips trembled. He didn't know what to do, so he turned on his heel and ran.

The cold, smooth surface of the stones contrasted sharply with his warmth his body was throwing off. After he had ducked away from his sister, he had practically sprinted to the nearest unpopulated corridor of the Stark's labyrinth of a home. He had to get away. Jon was flustered and out of breath, and it wasn't because of his run. Her proximity and words just a few minutes ago set something off inside him that he had been fighting for years.

He took a shaky breath and braced himself against the wall of the old stone corridor. Back hunched and forehead pressed to cool stone, he fought to regain control of his mind, and body- but it was to no avail. The solidarity and indifference of the stone offered no reprieve from the images swarming his mind and the sheen of sweat covering his strong, muscled body. His legs were quaking, his back and shoulders taunt, and his cock erect. A particularly vivid image of Lys' bare body spread across the furs on his bed caused a near-painful twitch in his groin, and effectively silenced any arguments he had against pleasuring himself in middle of a hallway, exposed to any whom happened to wander this far out of their way.

Trembling hands made their way down to the leather ties at the front of his breeches. His clumsy fingers tugged at them for a second or two before he lost his patience, wrenching them open and forcing his hand inside. A throaty grunt escaped as his calloused fingers wrapped around his shaft. The fantasies that he had tried staving off flooded to the forefront of his mind. All thoughts and awareness of the world around him fell away as he saw Lys' delicate hands tentatively caressing him. He could feel the smooth, creamy skin of her thighs as he settled himself above her. Her eyes were shining with a look of want and slight embarrassment becoming of her, but they didn't hold even a flash of denial or disgust. She met his half-lidded gaze head on and only broke it to release a breathy sigh when his hands made their way to the inside of her thigh. His thumb swept a steady line across the sensitive skin of her leg, not daring to touch her without her consent. His body was thrumming with promise of making love to her, and his mind was clouded with her scent.

His other hand was in her hair, pushing the soft strands of her hair away from her sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. The sight of her lithe body exposed, and need that had clouded her Tully blue eyes was heedier than any drug or mead any mortal man could hope to encounter. So he drank from her lips. The kiss started out soft and feather-light, just barely touching his chapped lips to her pink ones. The reverent kiss quickly developed into firm, long meetings, and finally to a battle of tongue and teeth. Jon was a naturally sensible, if not a bit austere, man, but the feeling of her body pressing up against his bare chest sent his mind into a frenzy. His right hand gripped her hair, forcing her closer to his desperate mouth, and his left clutched at her hip, grinding his engorged cock harshly against her stomach. Her startled moan had him biting back one of his own. He buried his face in her neck, his curls mingling with her love-tousled hair, and dragged the palm of his hand from her head, through the valley of her breasts, and straight to her cunt.

They locked eyes as he ran his fingertips across her sensitive skin. The dazed and desperate look she cast him was all the confirmation he needed. He propped himself up on his elbows so that he was hovering over her sweat sheened body, so that he would have more leverage as he pleasured her with his hand. His thick fingers slid back to their previous position. A quick glance at her face told him all the words he had never dreamed of hearing her saying. In them he saw the love they shared, the mutual need and desperation, the same longing.

He dragged the calloused pad of his thumb slowly over her clit, and eased a finger into her tight slit. They both moaned. Jon's arms were shaking with the exertion of holding himself up, and with the weight of his desire. No matter how many times they did this, or would do it, he could never imagine it losing its appeal. She trembled for him, moaned for him, tightened for him, and if he was feeling particularly cheeky, she begged for him. He would gladly kill men, go to war, or sacrifice any of his earthly possessions if it meant that the two could be united like this. He poured all his emotion into the act of making love with his Lys.

As his finger quickened its pace, he slipped in a second and pushed harder and more insistently on her nub. The painful pulsing of his groin intensified as her walls contracted around his fingers, and he had to screw his eyes shut and clench his stomach to stop himself from coming all over her beautiful stomach. He knew if she kept looking at him the way she did, and kept twisting and bucking her hips, he would not last long. Neither of them wanted that.

Jon forced himself away from her body and settled back onto his knees. They locked eyes again, and Jon gave himself three quick tugs before hooking his arms under her legs and pulling her body across the bed and towards him. He kept the eye contact as he guided his cock home.

The sound of a silver platter hitting cold hard stone ripped him away from the women he loved. He had been so close to what he so desperately wanted and deserved.

Jon's stomach dropped and he was overwhelmed with a wave of dread when he locked eyes with startled blue, his hand still fisted around his shaft.