Jon Snow & Sansa Stark - Game of Thrones Fanfiction

A form of Art

"Aargh!" Sansa grabbed her paper and shred it to a thousand little pieces. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't do it. She couldn't draw the right lines, she couldn't draw the right shades, she couldn't capture what made her boyfriend unique and handsome.

Jon raised his eyebrows, but didn't move apart from that. "Aren't you a little harsh on yourself?" He spoke softly, but his words echoed loud and clear through the silent dorm room.

Sansa's roommates knew when they had to leave her alone. Luckily. Both for them and for Sansa.

"I'm not a six year old girl drawing Christmas cards for fun anymore, Jon." Sansa rolled her eyes and she reached for a brand new empty paper. "I'm an art student and I don't want them to wonder why the hell they have ever accepted me in the first place."

"They'll never do that." Jon shook his head.

"Stay still!" Sansa hissed between her teeth and she bit on the back of her pencil.

Once upon a time the voice of her mother had always sounded in the back of her mind when she had done that. Pencil's weren't food and leaving toothmarks on them wasn't very lady like. Or something like that.

But biting the back of her pencil helped her to focus, to concentrate, to determine where she would start. Maybe her drawing simply sucked because she always started with the face.

Everyone knew that the face was the hardest. It was barely doable to draw two eyes even remotely alike and then there was a certain vividness in smiles and dimples that was almost impossible to catch.

Maybe this drawing would work out if she would start with his body.

Her steady hand draw a few lines and she cocked her head, staring at Jon once more and back at the paper in front of her. She drew a few more lines and then she looked again before she added some more.

It wasn't the first time Sansa noticed how perfect Jon's body was.

The first few nights they had spent together, her hands had traveled all over his body until she knew all the curves by heart.

When she closed her eyes she could draw his body in thin air with nothing but her hands. She could let her palms trace his imaginary shoulders. She could exactly tell how long his arms were, where the muscles of his abdomen were visible, how tensed they were under her touch. She could picture his hips and butt and knew exactly where to squeeze to make him squirm. And she knew exactly how tight to curl up her fingers to make him scream her name on top of her lungs.

"Sansa?" Jon whispered her name and Sansa's eyes flashed open. "If you're gonna fall asleep, can you at least tell me so I can move again?"

"No!" Sansa shook her head and she concentrated on her empty paper again. "Don't move! Not yet!" She drew more lines, added some shadows and erased some of her work to start over again.

But no matter how perfect her lines were, they couldn't grasp the beauty called Jon Snow.

After another half an hour she once again shred her drawing into a thousand little pieces, falling on top of the other ones from her previous tries.

Jon pushed himself up. "You're really being too hard on yourself, Sansa." He stood up from the couch and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her as close to her naked chest as possible and Sansa placed her hand on his sternum.

She could feel his heart beating in a rapid, but steady rhythm. Under the palm of her hand his chest moved quickly up and down. His heartbeat and breathing had a calming effect on her and while she closed her eyes and breathed in and out as deeply and calmly as she could, her hand started wandering again.

Under her touch all his muscles tensed and he held his breath for a few seconds when she let the tip of her finger circle around his nipple.

Maybe it was so hard and impossible to draw Jon because his body was art in itself already. It was as if the Gods had allowed their masterpiece to roam the earth, as if they had all contributed their talents and hard work until there was nothing but perfection left.

"I should hand you in for my exam..." She whispered while she wrapped her hands around his waist to trace the hardened muscles in his back.

"Wouldn't that be copyright infringement?" Jon stroke her long red hair and Sansa's lips curled up into a smile before he kissed her. "You didn't make me."

Sansa's smile brightened and she opened her eyes again so her glance could meet his. "I could make someone with you?"

Jon's laugh echoed all around her like a warm cocoon that could keep the rest of the big bad world out. "I guess you came up with that a little late."

"Only a little..." Sansa whispered. "But good art needs practice." She pulled her own dress over her head and kicked off her shoes. "I've got two years of study left. If we start practicing now, I can hand in our master piece to graduate."

"You still have to hand in something else tomorrow..." Jon placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "You're killing the mood here, Jon."

"Don't artists create their best works when they're in terrible moods?" Jon left a trace of kisses on her jaw, in her neck and on her naked shoulder.

Sansa moaned. "I don't think it's sadness." She buried her sharp nails in his back and enjoyed Jon's scream hurting her ears. "I like to believe that every extreme emotion works. The terrible moods and the ecstatic ones."

"You want ecstatic?" Jon whispered in her ear and then he sucked on her earlobe. In one smooth movement he lifted her off the floor and carried her towards the bed in the corner. "Your wish is my command, my queen." He gently placed her down, took off her briefs and spread her legs.

Yes, Sansa thought while Jon placed his hands on the insides of her thighs. She just had to get in the right mood and then she would be able to finish her art project before the deadline tomorrow.

A loud scream escaped her lips when Jon let his tongue circle around her clit.

Or maybe she would just tell her professor that the form of art she used for this project couldn't be handed in.