Jon could only deduce that he had a thing for gingers. Ygritte was a sore hole in his chest that never seemed to go away, but as much as he missed her, there was something intriguing in the way that Tormund kept looking at him, appraising and maybe a little flirty. More than once, a bushy brow had been raised and he could see his smirk beneath his beard. He'd been spending time with the wildling like he never would have anticipated, a lot of quiet personal time as they both retreated from the general hubbub of Castle Black. Tormund was still not a fan of the other Watchmen, and Jon had never liked crowds himself. Especially now that he was Lord Commander, it seemed he never had a moment alone. Still, most of his 'alone time' was spent in the company of Tormund, sat before a fire with Ghost laying at their feet.
Jon couldn't deny that he had been looking at Tormund, too. Hells, half the time he caught Tormund staring at him was when he was going to sneak a look himself. There was something there, something that Jon couldn't quite identify, but they never addressed it, and just carried on in their lonely company.
Tormund was currently staring at him, laying back relaxing on Jon’s bed, blue eyes scanning over his body as he bent over to stoke the fire. The cloth of his breeches stretched over his ass, making it look more round and enticing than usual. The breeches looked baggy when he was standing up, but bent over... they were not meant to withstand that fine ass. Tormund snickered to himself.
"Is something funny?" Jon asked, straightening up again. He gave Tormund a politely quizzical look, but the effect was ruined by the stray curls that had fallen over his face.
“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it, little crow. Go back to bending over an’ poking at the fire.” Tormund snorted, wiggling his bushy eyebrows.
Jon's cheeks went pink, and he suddenly had a very good idea of what Tormund had found so funny. These pants were old ones, the material worn soft from use, and they were a little tight in the backside. Still, knowing this, he did as directed and bent over the fire again. He couldn't stop himself; he bent a little more than necessary, legs spread a little wider apart, and he could feel the stretch of the material over his backside and the heat of Tormund's gaze on him.
Tormund groaned softly, reaching down to palm at the bulge in his pants beneath the furs. Jon had a fine ass, truly, better than any wildling woman’s he’d ever seen. And those spread legs... “Got an arse like a woman, Jon Snow.” He taunted, tempted to walk over and give it a nice firm smack.
The glow of the resurging flames masked the sudden flush of red in Jon's cheeks, for which he was grateful. He stood again, turned to face Tormund with his cheeks still red but his eyes sparking with a sort of timid excitement.
"Do I?" he asked, voice low.
“Oh yes, little crow. It sure looks like a woman’s. Why don’ ya come over here and lemme take a feel?” He raised an eyebrow, a wicked sort of grin on his face as he lifted the hand that wasn’t under the furs.
Jon stepped towards him, his footsteps light despite the boots he wore. He paused for a moment, nervous, before squaring his shoulders and seating himself right on Tormund's broad lap.
“Oh yes, that’s a good boy.” Tormund praised, pulling his other hand out from beneath the furs to reach down and grab Jon’s ass with both hands. It was round and firm, perfectly so, and Jon was seated right atop his hardening cock. “Feels better than any damn woman’s arse, too.”
Jon could feel Tormund under him, growing hard, and his thoughts went haywire. Gods, he thought, I'm making him hard. And then... He's massive! He couldn't stop himself. He shifted his hips, eager to feel more of that monstrosity underneath him.
“Little crow...” Tormund growled, reaching a hand around to fumble with the laces of Jon’s breeches. “You doin’ that on purpose? That squirming? Never took you for a whore, Snow.” He said it with no real malice, just teasing, his cock almost fully erect beneath Jon.
Jon didn't answer that, but he also didn't stop his little movements. Heat swooped low in his belly at the feel of Tormund's size.
"I've never laid with a man before," Jon said suddenly. He felt as though he had to say it. "Only Y—..." He trailed off, grief sparking through him again. They both knew, anyways.
“Hush, little crow.” Tormund soothed, his expression softening. Ygritte was family to him, truly, and he knew how Jon had felt about her, how she had felt for Jon. “It’s like fuckin’ women, just a bit more work. Move off my lap, pretty thing. I got somethin’ to show you.”
Jon scooted back, sitting beside him on the featherbed instead. His dark eyes roved hungrily over Tormund's hands and where they were moving. This situation was spiralling far beyond what he ever expected to happen, but he couldn't muster up an ounce of caring.
“Remember what I told you, Jon Snow?” Tormund moves to kneel by Jon’s feet, swiftly pulling off his breeches and small clothes. He grinned widely at the sight of Jon nude, long pale legs and half-hard cock with a nest of dark curls at the base. He took hold of his thighs, the skin soft under his calloused hands, and lifted them up, practically folding Jon in half and exposing his pretty pink hole. “About when you should stick your cock in?”
"When sh— it's slick as a baby seal," he recalled, and flushed again. He stared down at him, pretty brown eyes wide. "But that's..."
“That’s what?” Tormund raised an eyebrow as he leaned down, dragging his tongue flat over Jon’s puckered hole.
"That's— oh..." Jon twitched and made a small surprised sound. Tormund's tongue moved in broad strokes and Jon had never felt anything like this, but he craved more.
Tormund laughed, a low chuckle that caused vibrations against Jon’s skin. He licked at him as if he were starved, enjoying the way his cock was swelling and starting to drip as he began poking his tongue inside.
Jon whined, hips twitching. It felt weird, but good, the wetness on his hole and the soft intrusion inside. He peered up, and the position he was in had his own hard cock in front of his face, and beyond that he could see Tormund, eyes fixed on Jon's face as he ate out his hole.
“You taste good, little crow.” Tormund growled before pushing his tongue back in, wiggling it to get it in deeper.
Jon moaned softly. Was this what Ygritte had felt like when he did this to her? Of course, it wasn't this hole, but... Gods, she'd moaned so beautifully. Told him he had a pretty mouth, a talented mouth. He found himself wanting to put his mouth to use on Tormund, and see what kinds of sounds that he would make.
Tormund moved a hand downward, sliding down one of Jon’s muscular thighs, teasing a finger against his rim beside his tongue. He withdrew his tongue in favor of the finger, continuing to lick around the rim as he pushed a finger in.
Jon's hips jerked and his eyes widened. He clenched involuntarily around the intruding finger; it felt strange, not painful but somewhat uncomfortable. The muscles in his legs tensed as he shifted his hips again, trying to get that finger deeper inside.
“Greedy.” Tormund teased, giving his ass a slap. He pushed it in deeper, to the second knuckle, twisting and curling it to stretch him open.
Tormund's fingers weren't exactly slender. They were blunt and filling, and just the one was starting to feel good and Jon couldn't help but want another.
"Tormund," he begged in a near whisper.
“What is it, little crow?” Tormund taunted, rubbing a second finger teasingly over the rim of his ass beside the first one.
Jon wiggled his hips as best he could. "Another," he insisted, eyes tracing the movements of that second finger. What was it like to be filled?
Tormund obliged quickly, starting to push in the other. He dragged his tongue along the rim, then spat on it, using it as lubricant to work in the second finger.
It should have been gross, but Jon couldn't care less. Maybe it was the years spent in the less-than-pristine conditions of the Night's Watch, or the fact that he desperately wanted to be filled right now, but it was more arousing than anything else. The second finger was a stretch, and Tormund's fingers were thick, but Jon recalled the outline of Tormund's cock that he had felt, and if this was going to go to the extent he thought it was going to, he would need every bit of this stretch.
“Thinking about my cock, Jon Snow?” Tormund grinned, working it in up to the second knuckle, wiggling and scissoring the fingers before curving them upward.
"Aye," Jon admitted, breath hitching. He wanted it, badly. Wanted to feel that stretch, and know what it was like to be truly filled.
“You’ll be stretched wide open.” Tormund warned, carefully adding a third finger. He grinned at the sight, Jon’s pretty hole stretched around three of his thick fingers. His own cock was still hidden away in his small clothes, though it was rock hard and straining against the fabric. “I was nursed by a giant, you know. I got a cock like a giant because of it.”
"Does that happen?" Jon couldn't help but ask. But he had felt it underneath him, and knew the truth of Tormund's words. Three fingers was a lot for him, right now, and he let out a ragged moan, biting at his lower lip.
“Oh yes. You will see soon enough.” Tormund assured him. “The respected Lord Commander, greedy for my giant cock.” He snickered, twisting the fingers, pushing them in deeper, searching for the sweet spot he knew was there somewhere.
"What are y—" Jon's question was answered before he could finish asking it. Tormund's fingers brushed over a certain spot in him that sent sparks of pleasure up Jon's spine. He choked on another moan, staring up at him. "What...?"
“Got your sweet spot there, Jon Snow.” He pushed at it again, prodded, rubbed until Jon was a panting, squirming mess with his cock leaking all over his belly.
"Tormund..." Jon blinked, breathed, and tried to get his head straight. "Please. I-I'm ready."
“Alright, little crow.” Tormund carefully withdrew his fingers, appreciating the sight of Jon loose and open for him, insides dark pink and wet. He stood, clumsily pulling off his small clothes to reveal his cock. It was big, impossibly thick, long and heavy and flushed with arousal. There was precome smeared at the tip, and when Tormund moved forward to let Jon touch it, he couldn’t wrap his hand around the whole thing. “You really want this?”
Jon sat up, curling his legs beneath him. He took Tormund in his hand, feeling the weight of him and way the skin was smooth and warm. He really was big... Jon swallowed the water in his mouth and glanced up at Tormund, who was watching him with amusement in his blue eyes. Jon moved his hand up the shaft and back, before taking a deep breath, bending down, and wrapping his lips around the head.
Tormund’s eyes went wide with surprise. He’d only meant to give Jon a feel, he hadn’t expected for him to wrap his pretty, pouty lips aren’t it. “Fuck,” He groaned, reaching one hand down to lightly grip his dark curls. “That’s a good boy.”
Jon moaned softly. He wouldn't be able to fit him all into his mouth, but he took in his hands what he couldn't fit and moved to take more in. Tormund didn't taste good, exactly, but far from disgusting. There was a salty tang, and the strong, musky smell of him wasn't bad either.
Tormund groaned, low in his throat, relishing the feeling of his cock in Jon’s hot, wet mouth. “That’s it, take more in, good boy.”
He whined at the praise, relishing it and the feeling of Tormund's hand lightly tugging at his hair. Jon took in more while Tormund muttered encouragement, and he could feel the head against the back of his throat. He moaned again and glanced up at Tormund.
His eyes were cloudy with lust as he watched Jon. He thrusted just slightly into his mouth, cock twitching at the way Jon’s throat convulsed around him as he gagged. He didn’t do it again, allowing Jon to take his time.
Jon pulled off, a string of saliva connecting him still to the tip of Tormund's cock. He wiped it free. "You don't have to keep still." He spoke with a hoarse voice, and swallowed again before dipping back down. It was easier this time, taking him in and he couldn't know for certain but Jon thought he must have at least six inches of him in.
“That’s a dangerous thing to say, my little crow.” Tormund warned before moving his other hand to grasp Jon’s hair as well and thrusting further into his hot, wet mouth.
Instinctively, Jon relaxed his throat, and let out a choked moan. It was hard to breathe like this, and he wasn't even down to the base yet. Tears sprang to his eyes as Tormund thrust into his mouth, but Jon forced himself to keep relaxed and work more of him in.
“Hungry, are you?” He forced more into Jon’s mouth. “You can take it.” He assured him, tightening his grip on his hair as he fucked into his mouth.
He could take it. He knew he could. He was almost there, he knew he was, but gods Tormund's cock was thick as well as long and if it was stretching his throat like this then what would it do to his ass? He swallowed around his cock, taking him in deeper still.
Tormund grunted, thrusting lightly. His cock was almost fully in Jon’s mouth, and he didn’t want to pull any of it out, not when Jon was drooling and swallowing around it.
Jon's nose was buried in the tangled mass of dark red curls at the base of Tormund's cock. If he breathed, it was all the personal smell of him, and he moaned loudly, helplessly.
“Fuck,” Tormund cursed, grip tight on Jon’s hair. He was fully buried in his mouth, cock pushed down his throat, and it felt good. Jon looked good, with his dark eyes all pretty and wet and his cheeks flushed dark red, moaning like a whore around his cock.
Jon pulled off again, throat raw. Slick as a baby seal, Tormund had said, and his cock certainly looked slick right now, from Jon's own administrations. He really wanted that inside him, wanted to feel the stretch and burn and more of that sweet pleasure Tormund had shown him with his fingers and that little spot inside him.
"Fuck me," he said. "Please."
Tormund nodded, moving onto the bed behind him and manhandling Jon back into the position he’d been in before- legs bent up, spread wide, ass wet and exposed. He held one of Jon’s thighs in one hand, the other grasping his own cock as he lined it up with his hole. “Deep breath, little crow. Relax.” He advised him, before starting to slowly push in.
Jon's breath hitched and he had to force himself not to tense up against the intrusion. "Tormund," he whined. It hurt, oh gods it hurt, but he didn't dare ask him to stop, or slow down. He wouldn't, he couldn't, he needed... He needed more.
“Do you need me to stop?” He asked, but he didn’t stop pushing in. Jon was impossibly tight around his cock, and so hot, and he looked so pretty with his eyes so dark and wet and his cheeks so flushed.
Jon shook his head wordlessly. He wiggled his hips instead, urging him to sink deeper, in all the way so he could get used to this stretch. Tormund was big, and so thick. He felt full already, and he wasn't even all the way in.
“Deep breaths, pretty boy.” Tormund instructed, grasping Jon’s thighs tightly with both hands as he thrusted, finally pushing himself all the way in, balls flush against his pale ass. He groaned, deep and loud, the tight heat near overwhelming.
Little as he wanted Tormund to stop, he was grateful for the small break. Jon gasped, fisting his hands in the furs beneath them. Tormund was patient, and after a moment, Jon twitched his hips, gazing up at him. He didn't know much, but he figured it would start to feel good when Tormund started moving.
Tormund groaned at the way Jon twitched beneath him, but he didn’t move, blue eyes gazing into dark brown ones. “What do you want, pretty crow?”
"I want... I want you to fuck me," Jon moaned, wiggling his hips again as though to coax Tormund into moving. "With your giant's cock."
“That’s not very well mannered. Are you not a lord?” Tormund teased, a wicked grin making its way onto his lips.
"No lord," Jon panted, trying desperately to grind his hips back despite the awkward position Tormund was holding him in. "A bastard, just a bastard. I want you to fuck me."
“So demanding.” Tormund scolded, tightening his grip and pinning him down as best he could. He stayed still.
"Tormund!" Jon said furiously. Restrained from moving, he settled for clenching tight around Tormund's cock. "Do it!"
Tormund tossed his head back and laughed, hearty and loud. “Oh, little crow, that is not how we ask nicely.”
"Please!" he cried out, going completely limp. "Please, just fuck me!" If Tormund wouldn't fuck him, he thought he may explode of sheer frustration.
“Sorry, I am not sure I heard you correctly.” Tormund continued to tease. “What was it you said? You want me to fuck your tight, pretty ass with my giant cock?”
"Yes!" Jon whimpered, seizing fistfuls of the furs again. "Aye, Tormund, please!"
He sighed deeply, as if it were a great inconvenience. “If you insist...” He slowly pulled his cock out before slamming it back in, groaning loudly at the feeling of Jon stretching to take him in once again, and he quickly picked up a fast pace.
Sound was choked in Jon's throat, his lips parted fruitlessly. His eyes slipped shut and he gave a long, ragged moan. Tormund's cock ghosted over that damned spot and he felt a brief flash of it but it was gone before he could truly feel.
“Open your eyes, crow. Look at me.” Tormund growled, thrusting hard. He shifted his hips, trying all different angles in search of Jon’s sweet spot.
With great effort, he did, but keeping his eyes open was nigh impossible when the force of Tormund's thrusts had his vision blurring with pain and pleasure. Tears beaded in the corners, and he dragged his gaze up to Tormund, moaning incomprehensibly.
“How’s it feel?” He kept thrusting, searching for the sweet spot to make Jon buck and moan and cry out.
"Good," he gasped, "so good." This position was so uncomfortable but Tormund was reaching so deep inside...
Tormund growled, continuing to fuck him a little longer before suddenly, abruptly pulling out. He looked at Jon for a moment, at his stretched open hole. “Flip over. Hands and knees.”
Jon's head swam, dizzy with grief at the loss; he felt so empty, but he followed orders and turned over to rest on his hands and knees, the furs on the bed soft beneath him. He peeked back over his shoulder, looking to see what Tormund was going to do.
Tormund groaned at the sight, leaning down slightly to spit into Jon’s hole. It was obscene, sliding inside his gaping hole, and Jon just looked so fucking greedy for his cock... he gave his plump ass a harsh smack, grabbed hold of his hips, and thrusted back in- only to pull out again a moment later.
"Tormund!" Jon complained, pushing his hips back to chase Tormund's cock. "What are you...?"
Tormund spanked him again. “So demanding. We free folk don’t like takin’ orders, Jon Snow. You would do well to remember that.” Another spank.
Jon raised his ass up higher, still peeking back at him. He whined as he was spanked again. "What if I beg?" he asked innocently, between smacks.
“Beg then, pretty little crow.” Tormund spanked him again, and again, watching his pretty little ass flush dark red with his handprints.
"Tormund," he whined, stretching out the syllables and pitching his voice. He curved his back, pushing his rear against Tormund's grip. All shame had left him, and he focused solely on the swollen length of Tormund's erection, so tantalizingly close. "Please, fuck me."
Tormund groaned, spanking him a few times in quick succession, before thrusting in once again. He practically growled at how tight Jon still felt, how hot he was around him. How needy.
Jon gasped, dropping his head down and muffling his cries in the furs. He was deep, so deep, and— Tormund hit that spot, and Jon's vision went fuzzy. He moaned and pushed back against him, trying to get him in deeper.
“Like that, little crow? My whore of a crow?” Tormund taunted, hitting that spot again, and again, and again- slamming into it repeatedly.
"F-fuck," he cried, mindless with the pleasure, and suddenly he was close, so close. Tormund thrust into him again and Jon spilled, releasing over the furs and clenching, quivering around Tormund's cock.
“Fuck...” Tormund groaned, Jon’s ass clenching and quivering and twitching around his cock as he came. He himself wasn’t even close to coming yet- he had a habit of dragging it out- and he snickered low to himself at the thought of Jon oversensitive, writhing and pleading for more beneath him. “Didn’t even have to touch your cock, Jon Snow.”
Jon let out a senseless mewl as Tormund continued to pound him. "M-more," he begged, eyes slipping shut. He was trembling, but his body was craving—no, demanding more. "Please..."
“Little cockslut.” Tormund taunted. “Ruining your furs.” He took a tight hold on Jon’s waist, slowly tilting back to lay back, pulling Jon up at the same time to sit on his lap.
Jon's hands fell to Tormund's broad chest, bracing himself as he began to move his own hips, fucking himself on Tormund's cock. It was a delicious angle; the blunt head of it dragged slow over his sweet spot with every movement, and Jon was just about out of his mind. He was already hard again, after barely minutes.
“Fuck, yes.” Tormund grunted, keeping his tight grip on Jon’s hips for a minute before reaching around, grabbing Jon’s ass, spreading it as he bucked his hips up into it.
Jon let himself be used, Tormund thrusting up into him and bouncing Jon in his lap, and felt the sparks of pleasure rush through him. His lips parted in a soundless cry, pupils blown wide, staring down at Tormund's face.
“Fuck,” He growled. “Fuck! Alright pretty crow, turn around, get off my cock for a moment- no, don’t ya give me that look. Up, there you go.” Tormund helped maneuver Jon to turn around so his ass faced him before he grabbed his hips and pulled the boy down on his cock once again.
Jon moaned at being filled again, but in this position he had nothing to hang on to besides the furs on the bed, and he seized fistfuls of them as he bounced his hips on Tormund's cock, driving it in deep.
Tormund watched with hungry eyes, gaze fixed on where Jon’s hole was stretched, pink and glistening, wrapped around his cock. Jon had such a nice ass, such a pretty little hole, and seeing it stretched to its limits sent a hot bolt of arousal through his veins.
Slowing his pace, Jon rolled his hips and moaned loudly as he felt every inch of Tormund move within him. "Fuck," he whined, one hand moving to stroke his cock in time with his movements.
“You should see this ass of yours, Jon Snow.” He gave it a small smack before taking hold of his hips again. “So round, so fuckin’ plump. An ass fit for a whore. So pale and smooth, and you should see the way your hole looks all stretched around my cock.”
"You're so big," Jon panted, and Tormund's hands were on him again and Jon let him take charge, let him fill him and use him and send him over the edge again. He clenched around Tormund as he came again, cock twitching helplessly in his grasp.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growled, shifting again so Jon was face-down ass-up, cock still buried in his ass, continuing to fuck him despite his own sensitivity. He was getting close now, but he was determined to drag a third orgasm out of Jon first.
"Tormund," he whined, rutting back against him. "Fuck— Please... Harder, fuck," he murmured, speaking rapturously into the furs. Drool slipped down his lips and he gasped, hitching a breath.
Tormund pounded Jon’s ass like some sort of desperate animal, cock thrusting deep and hitting his prostate almost every time. He reached forward, grabbing a fistful of Jon’s pretty, curly hair and pulling his head back by it, forcing his back to arch.
"T-Tormund—!" He barely lasted four minutes before he was coming again with a strangled cry and he went boneless, vision spotting. Jon made a breathy, inarticulate moan, then whined as his prostate was continually abused.
“Fuck, fuck,” Tormund groaned, nails digging into the skin on Jon’s waist. “I’m gonna come in you, little crow. You want that? Want to be filled with my seed?”
"Aye, fuck... Fill me like a whore," Jon cried, and his cock twitched hopefully as he was pounded but Jon was drained, just wanted to feel Tormund spill deep inside him.
“Good boy,” Tormund growled before moaning deeply, burying himself to the hilt as he orgasmed. His cock twitched and throbbed inside him, filling him up with come.
"Fuck," Jon gasped. He was so full, and Tormund's seed was warm in him, his cock softening. Tormund slid out, and Jon could feel cum dribbling from his ass. He wiggled slyly, raising his ass up for Tormund to see.
Tormund grinned wide, watching his seed dripping from Jon’s gaping hole, his pretty ass wiggling. “You’re a little slut, Lord Commander.” He snorted.
"Aye." Jon didn't deny it; after all that, how could he? Jon relaxed against the bed, letting his muscles go slack and snuggling his face into the sleek furs. He felt Tormund's hands cup his ass, squeezing the round cheeks, and he sighed contentedly.
Tormund moved to lay on his side beside Jon, pulled him so that his back was flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, muscled and strong, pulling him close.
"Again, sometime?" he murmured, relaxed and drowsy in the embrace. For all the chill in the air outside, it was warm in here, and especially so in Tormund's arms. The fire was crackling low again, just small flames and brightly glowing embers.
“Aye.” He agreed, nodding his head. “It’s cold here, little crow. Lucky you got me to keep you warm.”
Jon didn’t respond, so Tormund just stroked his hair, his pretty black curls, until Jon fell asleep in his arms.