Familiar Faces (Patreon)

A girl sat at the feet of a man, waiting patiently as he communed with the Many-Faced God. A name would be given, and someone would die by her hand. It had happened before, it would happen again, and all that the girl could think in that moment was that she wished that her god would hurry up and give her the name already. One did not rush the God of Death, however, and so a girl sat and tried to be patient.

“A girl has an assignment,” the man said finally, brushing the red hair on the left side of his face out of it. “There are two names.”

“Give them, and they will die,” a girl said simply, earning the tiniest smile from the man.

“Cosso, a whoremonger who runs a brothel called the Garden, and Della, one of his whores,” the man said.

“That should be simple enough,” the girl said, shrugging. “I’ll take the whore’s face and use it to get to her pimp.”

“A sound plan,” the man said. “Valar morghulis.”

“Valar Doheris,” the girl replied, getting up and making her way through the House of Black and White.

A girl knew where the Garden was and had actually killed someone leaving it once. Situated near Hagman’s Harbor in Braavos, it was not a particularly high-end establishment, and she knew that the face she would wear to access it should look sufficiently rough. Among the options available to her was a face she hadn’t seen before, a man with hair the color of sand and wind-chafed skin. He had a gruesome scar across the right side of his face from what looked like a sword wound. The blade in question had taken his eye and the girl recalled that she would have to take care on stairs, having learned that the hard way the last time she wore the face of a man with one eye.

With her selection made, she took the man’s form, dressed herself quickly in rough and bedeviled clothes, and took enough coin to get inside the brothel. She was about to grab a small dagger from the armory when she spotted a thick wire with two handles on either side and paused. She had two targets this time, so making a bloody mess would be ill-advised, at least with the first one. Grabbing it as well as the dagger, she hid them well inside her clothes and made her way to Hagman’s Harbor.

The Garden was just like any other brothel a girl had ever been in, filled with men drinking and eyeing up the women around them while deciding who they fancied for the night. The sounds of moaning and grunting echoed from downstairs, but the girl was not bothered by such things. Some people were, she knew, while others weren’t, but when one was no one at all, nothing bothered them.

“Welcome,” an older man said gruffly as he spotted the girl enter. “What can I get for you?”

“I’m looking for someone specific,” a girl said. “A girl I had the last time I was here.”

“I think I’d remember seeing you before,” the man said.

“As busy as this place is, I wouldn’t bet on that,” a girl said. “Cosso, right?”

“Aye,” Cosso said.

“The girl I was with was called Della,” a girl said.

“Della?” Cosso asked. “You sure? She’s had a...long week.”

“Makes no difference to me,” a girl said, taking out her coin purse and jangling it about.

“Eh, it’s your coin,” Cosso said. Raising his voice, he called out, “Della!”

It took a couple moments, but one of the whores came, looking exhausted.

“Yes?” Della asked.

“This one wants you,” Cosso said. “Seems you made an impression on him last time.

Della looked at the girl and just shrugged. She clearly didn’t recognize the man whose face the girl had chosen to wear, but seemed too tired to care.

“Always happy to give a handsome man like you another taste,” she said, the words sounding utterly forced.

Cosso named her price, and the girl counted out the coins and handed them over before signaling to the whore to lead them somewhere private. Della’s every step looked labored, and a girl wondered if there was anything in particular wrong with her. Between her exhaustion and her lifeless gray-blue eyes, a girl wondered if perhaps the whore herself had been the one to pray for her death and that of her employer. It didn’t matter either way, for names had been given and death would come for them.

“How do you want me?” Della asked, removing her clothes and showing her thin yet shapely body to the girl. With her brown hair, short stature, and thin body, Della reminded the girl of the form she usually wore.

“On your hands and knees,” a girl said, and the whore complied quickly.

Her thick arse was bruised in multiple places, as were her thighs, and her cunt and arsehole both looked an angry red. A girl looked impassively at the sight and pulled the wire from her sleeve. With her unsuspecting victim waiting patiently to be taken like a bitch in heat, she didn’t notice until it was too late, as the wire slipped over her head and wrapped around her throat. She didn’t make a sound, suggesting that she very well might have been the one who prayed to the Many-Faced God, and as the girl crossed the two handles of the wire over each other, spun around, and pulled over her shoulder, the whore’s neck snapped, and it was over.

“Half-over,” the girl corrected herself.

As Della’s lifeless body crumpled on the floor at her feet, the girl drew her blade and got to work removing her face. The power of the Many-Faced God flowed through her, and with practiced ease, she was able to remove the whore’s face cleanly, filling it with the power it would need to transfer the girl’s form to the wearer. With that done, she stuffed the body under the bed, knowing that it wouldn’t be checked for a while. Putting on Della’s face, she changed into her discarded clothes and made her way downstairs.

“That was quick,” Cosso commented as he spotted her.

“So was he,” the girl said, earning a barked laugh from her next victim.

“Well, look alive, girl,” Cosso said. “We have men from the Company of the Rose on their way here.”

“Before they arrive, could I have a word with you in private?” Della asked.

“No bloody time,” Cosso said, and the girl scowled as soon as he turned back to the door.

She could bury her dagger in his throat right here and bolt out the front door. This body was short, but she was used to running in one like it, and all she’d need to do is duck into the first alleyway she found and switch back to the man’s face from before.

“Welcome to the Garden,” Cosso said as the girl contemplated how best to kill him.

She spared the men who entered a single glance, still meaning to carry out her assignment and run the second she had a free path to the door, but then her gaze lingered on one of the men there, and she felt like her heart stopped. He was taller than he’d been when she last saw him and broader, with a couple scars on his face that hadn’t been there when they’d last seen each other, but she’d recognize him anywhere.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, like the Many-Faced God had decided that it was her time and sent this man to end her with one glance. His dark gray eyes looked into hers, and though they held none of the warmth, affection, or recognition she’d seen in them before, they were his. Jon Snow had come to Braavos, and with one look, murdered her as surely as she just finished murdering the whore whose face she wore.

For a man or a woman to become no one, they had to give up all that they had and all that they were, and by the time the girl had come to Braavos, she had so little left that that wasn’t all that difficult. Her family members were lost to her, either dead or beyond her reach, and with each one that left her life, a little piece of her went with them. A girl could not be no one if she had loved ones left in her life, and as Jon gazed at her, all that she had been came flooding back.

A girl wasn’t no one.

She was Arya Stark of Winterfell.

*****

“Don’t go!” Arya demanded, stamping her foot and trying to keep from crying. Rickon cried all the time because he was still a baby, but Arya wasn’t a baby, and she wasn’t going to cry, even if this did hurt more than anything she’d ever endured.

“I have to, Arya,” Jon said.

“No, you don’t!” Arya snapped. “You’re being stupid; you’re all being stupid. Winterfell is your home. You’re one of us.”

“I’m not a Stark,” Jon said. “I’m a Snow.”

“Who cares?!” Arya screeched.

“Everyone,” Jon said glumly.

She rushed over and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, burying her face in his chest and crying openly.

“I don’t,” she barely managed to get out.

“I know you don’t,” Jon said, “and I love you for that, but I can’t make a name for myself here. My options if I want to are to either go to the Wall, which I refuse to, become a hedge knight, but that’s southern nonsense, or become a sellsword in Essos.”

“Wait, you could be my sword shield!” Arya said, her watery eyes alight with hope. “You could be the Dragonknight to my Nerys!”

“You don’t even like being a lady, and now you want to be a queen?” Jon chuckled sadly.

“I’d be anything that kept you home where you belong,” Arya said fiercely.

“Arya, my mind is made up,” Jon said, and she shrieked, punching him in the arm and crying harder.

“Wi...will I ever...ever see you again?” she babbled, her throat feeling tight.

“I hope so,” Jon said. “When I’ve made my fortune in Essos, I could come back and see you, wherever you’ll be living then.”

Arya just clung to him, as though he’d disappear in a puff of smoke if she let go.

“I do have a gift for you, though,” Jon said. “Something I got Mikken to make.”

“Mikken?” Arya asked, wondering what it could be.

It turned out to be her Needle, the sword she’d buried in a place where she could easily go get it again if she chose, because she couldn’t bring herself to truly give it up.

*****

Jon fought the urge to groan as he wandered into the brothel with a few of his more trustworthy men. The years of service that he’d put into the Company of the Rose had paid off, and, now a sergeant in their ranks, he had men under his own command. The captain of the company, a man called Alaric, had become quite impressed with his skills both in personal combat and in command. Their trip to Braavos was a reward for a job well done in the Disputed Lands, and as their Myrish employers had paid quite well for their services, even the lowest of them had coin to spend. He’d been in this brothel before and knew that the girls weren’t terribly expensive and yet were clean.

“Welcome to the Garden,” the proprietor said, though Jon barely heard him as he found himself focusing on the girl next to him.

She was short and quite pretty, with brown hair, much like his, and a heart-shaped face. Her nose was slight and cute, and her lips, were slightly plump. Just looking at them, he couldn’t help but imagine them wrapped around his cock. She looked over at him and froze, seemingly as entranced as he was. There was something about her eyes, or more accurately, her expression, that seemed familiar, though Jon couldn’t quite place it. He usually liked to see a selection of girls before making his choice when he went to a brothel, but knew that he wouldn’t need that this time.

“Well, what’s your name?” Jon asked.

“I…” the girl said, sounding stunned.

“I think she likes you,” the proprietor chuckled. “This is Della.”

“Isn’t she a bit small for you, sergeant?” one of his men asked, chuckling.

“Hush, you lot,” Jon said, grinning. Digging out a few of his most valuable coins, he handed them to the man, saying, “I’ll take her for the night and some wine.”

“Third room on your left upstairs is free,” the man said, handing him a key. Turning the whore, he said, “Make sure the sergeant is very happy by the time he leaves here.”

Arya froze, going white as a sheet. This was Jon, the same Jon that she had grown up with, whose bed she had crawled into a time or two when storms scared her, and she wanted his warm, comforting presence to make it all alright. She couldn’t possibly do that with him.

“You’d be hard-pressed to kill Cosso and escape right now,” a more cynical part of her thought. “Jon paid for you for the night, which means the target won’t expect you down until morning. Once he’s alone…”

She shook her head as Jon walked up and took her hand.

“A shy one are you?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Not usually,” Cosso said, glaring at her.

“Sorry, ser,” Arya said, staring up at Jon and trying to give him a lustful look rather than show what she was really feeling.

She turned and walked towards the stairs, feeling just how tight and revealing the dress she was wearing was now that Jon’s eyes were on her. Deep down, she knew what she had to do. The Many-Faced God had given her a task, and she would do it, no matter what. When she had shoved everything of her past down into the deepest recesses of her mind, it became easy to forget little things, like how furious she had been at Jon, both for leaving her and for not returning when their family needed him most.

“Maybe it’s best this way,” she thought to herself.

She could bed him until he was nice and tired, then slip out, kill her remaining target, and forget that any of this ever happened. Jon was unlikely to remain in Braavos for long, anyway, so soon enough she’d be able to return to being no one and let every day under her god’s sway remove a little more of the past from her.

“After you,” Jon said after unlocking and opening the door.

Arya slipped inside and immediately undid the laces holding her dress together, letting it pool by her feet. She heard Jon groan in approval as he shut the door and turned around to look at him. Even through his clothes, she could tell that he had a warrior’s body, strong and muscular. She had known many dangerous men in her life, warriors who could kill as easily as they breathed, and they each held themselves in a way she’d come to associate with that level of danger. Jon held himself like that, and the look in his eyes was that of a killer, as if they hadn’t looked alike already.

“My, my, but you’re a gorgeous little thing,” he said. “I knew from the second I laid eyes on you that I’d be having you tonight. You seemed to like what you saw too.”

“Perhaps I was just in shock at seeing such a pretty man,” Arya said, and he burst out laughing.

“A cheeky little thing,” Jon chuckled. “Tell me honestly, Della, how many other men have you had today?”

“None, ser,” Arya replied.

It was true, both in the sense that she really hadn’t and because, while the magic of her god let her take the forms of men and women whose faces had been taken by her or his other followers, it did not give her their body in the condition that it had been in at the time of their deaths, with the exception of injuries to the actual faces themselves. Della had looked quite worse for wear when Arya relieved her of her suffering, with a well-beaten arse and holes that looked sore and gaping. Arya had no such issues.

“Really?” Jon asked skeptically.

“I had a very long, hard night, and Cosso was nice enough to let me sleep in,” Arya lied. “Between that and a good long bath, I was good as new.”

“I was going to suggest a bath if I didn’t like your answer,” Jon said, “one we could have shared if your employer could arrange such a thing.”

Arya reached over to cup his cock through his breeches and said, “If it’s a bath you’re after, my tongue should do fine, at least for a couple specific spots.”

“Gods, woman,” Jon groaned even as Arya started to feel concerned.

“How fucking big does this thing get?” she wondered to herself.

Sexual education had been part of her training, as fucking was often a good way to infiltrate a secure location when you needed to do so to get to a target. She had yet to actually make use of that part of her training, as she was still relegated to lesser assignments within Braavos, but she knew enough to know what she felt under her hand was far larger than what most men had. Suddenly, his fellow sellsword’s comment about her being too small for him made sense.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Jon said, removing his belt and letting his breeches fall down.

As his cock sprang out, free from its confines, Arya could only stare in awe and fear. Jon wasn’t just bigger than most men; he utterly dwarfed them.

“I never tire of that look,” he said as he started removing his doublet.

“How the hell are you this big?” Arya asked.

“Blessed by the gods, I suppose,” Jon said, shrugging as the last of his clothes joined hers on the floor.

Looking up at him, Arya felt heat pool in her core. He was gorgeous, and she swore that every muscular inch of him had been sculpted by some god. Scars littered his form, giving him even more of a warrior look and making him all the more attractive to her. She knew that she shouldn’t want him, that it was wrong on multiple levels, but gods, was he gorgeous.

“I think you said something about a tongue bath,” Jon said, sitting down on the bed with his feet firmly on the floor and his knees spread apart.

Arya sank down to her knees and wrapped her hand around his throbbing length, marveling at how her fingers didn’t even touch. This thing was going to split her in half and she could only hope that the body of the whore she had taken could handle it.

“Oh gods,” Jon groaned as she licked the underside of his cock from base to tip.

Keeping her eyes on him, she swirled her tongue around the bulbous head, smirking as he groaned louder.

“So, what’s it like to be a sellsword?” she asked before taking a couple inches of him between her lips and sucking gently.

“Ah, just like that,” Jon said. “Dangerous more than anything. Men who fight for coin fight more often than men who fight for loyalty, and every fight can be a man’s last.”

“You’ve clearly survived your share,” Arya purred, kissing her way down the shaft until she reached his sack.

Wrapping her lips around one of his balls, which she noted were also much larger than normal, she sucked it into her mouth, slowly stroking his cock while she did.

“Gods, what a perfect little whore you are,” Jon groaned. “I’ve been fighting for a long time now.”

“Is it ever lonely?” Arya asked. “Do you have a wife you fight to bring coin home to?”

“I’m not wed,” Jon said. “Do you ask all your clients so many questions?”

“The longer this takes, the more I can draw it out, the harder you’ll cum,” Arya said. “Getting a man to talk about himself can help distract from what I’m doing long enough to prolong things.”

“Oh, shit!” Jon moaned as she started sucking on his other ball. “Well, fuck, ask away.”

“Any family at all?” Arya asked, taking his cock back between her lips.

“Not something I like to talk about,” Jon said, his expression darkening.

“Abandoned, were you?” Arya asked, feigning sympathy. “I understand that. My mum left me here to be raised as a whore.”

Before he could reply to that, she took him deep, until the head of his cock hit her throat. Arya had discovered before that, unlike other newer whores she had seen, she never seemed to gag or choke on cocks. This was going to be a greater test of that than she’d experienced before, but given how unbothered she had been so far, she doubted it would be all that different. Opening her throat, she took him even further, until her nose was buried in his forest of wild, dark curls.

“Fucking hells,” Jon hissed, grabbing her head as his legs started shaking.

She let his cock slip from her lips with an audible pop and asked, “Impressed?”

“No one’s ever managed to swallow the whole thing,” Jon said.

“A downside to your blessing,” Arya chuckled, stroking his slick cock.

“Until today,” Jon said. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t abandoned, but my family’s gone. All of them are either dead or captured by our enemies.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Arya said, hoping that he’d say more.

“I left because I never really felt like a part of it, and when things went very, very wrong for them, I wasn’t there,” Jon said, sounding mournful. “By the time I learned how bad things had gotten, it was already too late. All I can do now is try to seek revenge.”

“Well, I wish you luck,” Arya said, beaming internally.

She had spent many a night hoping against hope that Jon would come and rescue her, rescue them all from the waking nightmare they had stumbled into. When he didn’t, she began to think that he had either died or didn’t care enough to return. Learning that he had just learned too late and was plotting revenge changed things a lot.

“I’m going to need it,” Jon sighed, shaking his head. At her curious look, he said, “Let’s just say that my enemies have a very powerful enemy of their own who hasn’t moved against them yet. I’ve convinced the captain of my company to go offer our services to her in the hopes that I can convince her to begin the war. Of course, she has no more reason to like me than our enemies, so it may turn out to be a terrible idea.”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Arya thought to herself.

The way that he’d worded things, if she were really Della, a random whore serving in a Braavosi brothel, she’d have been none the wiser about what he meant. Given who she was, though, she immediately caught on to what he was getting at, and the idea was both inspired and terrifying. The dragon queen could easily decide that the Starks got what they deserved for attacking her family, the mad king’s actions be damned, or she could even attack Jon.

Arya was overcome by her desire to help him, though she had no idea how, or if she’d even be able to leave with him, given her obligations to the Faceless Men. Those were questions for another time, however, as today there was only really one thing she could do for him. Taking his cock between her lips again, she swallowed him to the base and began bobbing her up and down on his massive length. Her tongue teased him masterfully, and her cheeks caved in as she sucked his cock. Jon cried out and grabbed her head again, his hips bucking involuntarily as he soared towards his peak.

“Gods!” Jon groaned as he came, filling her mouth with spurt after spurt of thick seed.

Arya swallowed it all, enjoying the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, and sucked on his cock one last time to make sure she got every last drop. When he finally slipped from her lips again, she poured a cup of wine from the bottle he had gotten from Cosso and drank it down.

“I’d say...you more than earned that...holy fuck!” Jon panted, and Arya smirked at him, pouring him a glass as well, which he eagerly accepted.

“I knew I picked well with you,” Jon said once he’d caught his breath. “There was just something about you that instantly caught my eye. Something, familiar.”

“Just one of those faces, I guess,” Arya said, managing by sheer force to keep herself from cracking up at her own terrible joke.

“Had you not been facing me, I might have said it was this incredible arse,” Jon said, grabbing her plump cheeks with his large hands.

Arya gasped and felt her cunt quiver at his touch. She hadn’t realized just how hot she had gotten while sucking his cock until she felt a drop of her fluids leak and start running down her thighs.

“You like sucking cock that much?” Jon asked, catching the droplet on his finger.

“Depends on the cock,” Arya shuddered.

Jon brought his finger to her lips, and she accepted it quickly, tasting her arousal on the digit. He added a second finger a moment later, and she sucked it as well, getting it equally wet. He pulled his fingers from between her lips and moved them down to settle between a different pair.

“Fucking hells, you’re wet,” Jon groaned as he stroked her dripping, wet cunt.

“It’s...your fault,” Arya stammered as she felt his thick fingers spread her inner walls.

When he brushed against something inside her that made colors flash before her eyes and pleasure explode inside her, she cried out and stumbled, being caught by him. He started rubbing her clit with his thumb, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, looking up into his eyes. So many times had those eyes looked at her, but never had his gaze made her feel the way it did just then. His already dark eyes were almost black with arousal, and his cock, which had wilted some after he finished, sprang back quickly.

“H...how do you want me?” Arya asked.

“Ride me,” Jon ordered, and she climbed into his lap quickly.

Praying that she’d be able to take every inch of this beast without issue, she lined herself up and pushed down, crying out as she felt his thick head pop inside her.

“Gods, you’re fucking tight,” Jon groaned.

“You could fuck bloody giants with this thing,” Arya hissed, unable to believe how intense it felt.

The pleasure bordered on pain as she was stretched wide, but her inner walls parted for him, hugging his length as she took another inch of him.

“They speak of giants here?” Jon asked. “A woman we called Old Nan told us stories of them when I was a boy.”

Arya smiled at the memories of Winterfell he invoked and wiggled her hips to try and move lower on his shaft, managing to bury a little more of him. Winterfell was the last thing she wanted to think about just then, as she was fucking Jon, so instead she kissed him. He was surprised for a moment, but returned the kiss eagerly a second later, pushing his tongue past her lips and exploring her own with it. The two of them kissed languidly as she continued to take inch after maddeningly thick inch of cock inside her cunt. She had taken most of him by then, and while the burning feeling of being stretched so wide was beginning to hurt a bit, she had no desire to stop at all.

“Fuck, you were made to take my cock,” Jon groaned as another inch of him slipped inside her tight tunnel. “I thought I’d be lucky to fit half of it inside you before I hit your womb.”

“Not yet,” Arya hissed through gritted teeth as she bounced on his length to take a little more of him.

“Shit, that’s it,” Jon said, his voice thick with awe.

“You’re part fucking horse,” Arya panted, her whole body shaking from the effort it took to take him inside her.

“Fucking hells, I might have to take you with me,” Jon chuckled. “I never thought I’d find a woman I could both pick up and fit my entire cock inside.”

“Wait, what?” Arya asked, her eyes widening as he stood up.

With his hands on her arse while she wrapped her arms around his neck, he held her perfectly secure in the air. She had never felt smaller than she did in that moment, and she didn’t know if she should be disturbed by how much that made her cunt flutter and gush or just enjoy it. The next thing she knew, Jon was pulling most of his cock from her clinging depths and thrusting back inside her.

“Fuck!” Arya screamed as intense pleasure lanced all through her body, starting in her core.

She had thought that taking him inside her had been intense, but that had nothing compared to actually being fucked by him. He started out slow, easing his cock in and out of her with long, deliberate thrusts. As she wrapped her legs around him and began to get used to the feeling of him moving within her, he almost seemed to sense it, or perhaps he had felt her relax the faintest bit around him. Either way, he picked up his pace until he was fucking her hard.

“By...the...gods!” Arya cried, each word in response to the feeling of his cock driving deep inside her. Her vision was starting to go white with each deep thrust, and she knew that she was going to cum soon.

“You feel fucking amazing,” Jon groaned, walking them over to the nearest wall and pushing her against it.

The feeling of him pounding inside her again and again as she was suspended in the air, utterly powerless against him, was intoxicating. Any lasting reservations she might have had about fucking Jon were obliterated by the sheer raw pleasure that his pistoning shaft was giving her. In her mind, she imagined a world where her family hadn’t been torn apart by their enemies, and yet she was free to sneak into Jon’s bed each night and ride him until she screamed. He could have her day and night if it was this good.

“More, more, more!” Arya cried, half delirious alread,y as the pressure building in her core became too much to bear. “I’m so close!”

“Gods, what a tight little cunt you have,” Jon growled. “It’s like it was made for this cock.”

“It was, I was, fuck, I love your fucking cock!” Arya babbled. “I’m going to...going to...FUCK!”

With a wail that echoed through the brothel, she came hard, her tight tunnel squeezing Jon’s cock as it spasmed around him. A torrent of fluid erupted from her cunt, soaking the wooden floor beneath them. A sudden memory of her mother scolding her for spilling water on a table and potentially ruining the wood flashed through her mind, and she giggled like she was going mad.

“Agh!” Jon grunted, going still as she continued to cum around him.

The feeling of her tight cunt fluttering and spasming around him was intoxicating, and he thought that he might cum right there if he kept going. He had paid for the night with her, and he intended to make the most of it, which meant pacing himself a touch. As she went limp in his arms, he carried her back to the bed and carefully placed her down.

“J...Jon?” Arya asked as her eyes fluttered open and consciousness returned to her.

Jon went still and asked, “um, how do you know my name?”

Arya froze as she realized what a mistake she’d just made, and her still-dazed mind scrambled to think of a way to explain it without telling him who she was.

“Uh, sorry, we refer to our clients as Jons to each other, and my mind’s just melted from whatever the hell you just did to me,” Arya rushed out, hoping that he’d buy it.

“Ah,” Jon said, chuckling softly. “As it happens, I actually am called Jon. As for what I did to you, don’t tell me that’s the first time someone’s made you cum.”

“Like that, anyway,” Arya muttered, still in disbelief about just how intense her pleasure had been.

“That’s tragic,” Jon said, flipping her onto her belly. “I’ll just have to give you a few more so you can remember what pleasure actually is.”

Without another word, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, and Arya buried her face in the bedding to muffle her scream. He felt so fucking good inside that she feared she was going to go mad before the night was over.

“Fuck me, Jon,” she moaned.

Jon pulled most of his cock from her cunt and slammed back inside, making her grunt. It felt like he somehow reached even deeper in this position, and for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how she was managing to take so much of his cock. She wasn’t about to complain; however, as she was happier than she could say that she was able to make him feel as good as he was making her feel. As he picked up his pace, the sounds of his hips smacking against her arse began to echo through the room.

“Fucking hells, I could watch your arse ripple and jiggle like this for hours,” Jon said. Leaning in, he whispered, “Maybe I will.”

Arya shuddered at that and wondered if she’d even be able to walk straight if he actually fucked her like this for hours. If she was still in her right mind, she would have worried about not being able to reach Cosso and complete her assignment in that case, but in that moment, the only thing she could focus on was the pleasure Jon was giving her as she raced towards another soul-searing orgasm. When he reached under her and started kneading her perky little tits, she cried out in pleasure.

“Pi...pinch my nipples, please,” Arya begged, feeling like she was going to explode.

“Like it rough, do you?” Jon grunted, pinching her nipples as his thrusts began to grow more eratic.

“Just...just like that, fuck!” Arya cried in pleasure, clawing at the bedding in front of her.

“I’m getting close,” Jon warned her.

“Just a little more!” Arya cried. “Gods, I’m so close!”

Jon removed one of his hands from under her and smacked her arse hard, making her shriek.

“Cum again for me,” he ordered, and Arya shrieked as her orgasm hit her hard.

“Fuck!” Jon groaned as he came inside her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

The two of them writhed and shook together as pleasure consumed them. Wave after wave of pleasure thundered through Arya, and when she felt Jon collapse on her, barely managing to hold himself up, she couldn’t help but think about how safe she felt in his arms. She hadn’t felt truly safe since before Syrio saved her from Meryn Trant. Living on the run or as an assassin in service of the Many-Faced God since then, she hadn’t had a single moment where she felt protected, as she was enveloped by the heat of Jon’s body then. As her orgasm ended, all she felt was an overwhelming desire to crawl into his arms and never leave them.

“Fuck me, that was good,” Jon sighed as he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back.

“Good is putting it mildly,” Arya grinned, shifting over so that she could rest her head on his chest.

He looked down at her in surprise but said nothing and wrapped an arm around her.

“I hope you manage to avenge your family like you want to,” Arya said softly.

“So do I,” Jon said, stroking the smooth skin of her back gently.

“There’s really none of them left?” Arya asked.

“The only one I know for sure is alive was still a prisoner the last I heard,” Jon said. “There’s one that’s only missing, and the gods know how badly I’d like to see her again, but there’s no telling what’s become of her.”

Arya was taken by a sudden desire to pull off her face and show him who she was, that she was alive, safe and returned to him. That would ruin the moment, however, and it wasn’t exactly the sort of reunion either of them wanted. She was going to have to wait a bit before she did so, but after the day they had shared, she knew there was no way that she wasn’t going to return to her old life; to Jon. Even if he never learned the truth about what they’d done, it would be enough to have him back in her life again. For now, all she could do was play her role and do as her future victim ordered her to: make him happy.

“I’ll pray for her to return to you, Jon,” she said, grasping his cock and giving it a small tug.

“Mmm, thank you,” Jon sighed as his cock grew in her hand again.

Smirking at his reaction, Arya moved down towards the hardening shaft and took it back into her mouth. Neither of them were going to leave this bed any time soon.