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A Northern Tradition (Game of Thrones)
🕑 Added 2021-06-18 15:57:07 +0000 UTCPoll Winner
Themes: Threesome, Rough Sex, Fucked Silly
Summary: Recognizing that they won't be able to convince Jon to stay in Winterfell and send someone else to treat with the Dragon Queen, the Stark sisters put their heads together and come up with a plan. They're going to make sure he has the clearest head possible before he leaves on his trip. Namely, by offering up their bodies and allowing him to rut them both senseless before he departs. It's the perfect plan, surely.
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“What’s this about, Sansa? What’s so important that I have to attend you in your quarters the eve before my departure South?”
Jon tries not to come across as too confrontational as he sweeps his way into Sansa’s bedroom, but he can’t help the small amount of annoyance that leaks into his voice as he comes to a stop in front of her. The Lady of Winterfell, for there is no other Stark to take up the mantle at this point, sits on the edge of her bed in her nightgown.
Before she can answer him, the door to the room clicks shut, causing Jon to whip his head around and blink at the sight of Arya standing there in her usual leather armor, looking at him as well. Furrowing his brow, the King in the North looks between the two young women, the last two Stark girls in all the North.
“It’s precisely that departure that causes me to call for you, Jon. It’s precisely that departure that makes this meeting a necessity.”
Bristling just a bit, Jon frowns at Sansa.
“We’ve talked about this, Sansa. I’m not going to send a proxy, no matter what you say. We need that dragonglass to have even a chance against the Army of the Dead. More than that, if we can get the Dragon Queen and her dragons on our side…”
He trails off then, both because the rest of it is obvious, and because Sansa is nodding along with him rather than shaking her head in disagreement.
“I understand that, Jon. You’re King now, and your word is law. I’m not trying to convince you to change your mind… not anymore. Now, it falls to me to make sure that you go South with the clearest mind possible.”
“And me.”
Arya steps forward at that, circling around Jon to enter his field of view. Sansa glances to her sister and her lips thin, before she gives a conceding nod in Arya’s direction.
“And her.”
Confused still, Jon looks between the two women, trying to figure out what’s going on. Before he can demand an explanation, Sansa steps up, and together with Arya, moves forward and divests him of his upper layer of furs.
“What… what is this?”
“An Ancient Tradition, Jon. One that has not been observed in quite some time. I read about it in father’s office, in the records of long ago. It’s a tradition that we forgot… and in forgetting, it has cost our family dearly.”
Sansa’s voice has a way of drawing him in these days, Jon has noticed. She’s certainly grown up a lot since they were children, and in a lot of ways he wished she hadn’t had to. But their time apart has changed both of them… and Arya too. There’s no denying that.
“What tradition?”
“Simple. It is the duty of Stark women, usually the Lady of Winterfell, to make sure no Stark Lord goes South without his needs being taken care of first. It is tradition for the Lady of Winterfell to lay with her Lord… or in your case, her King, on the night before his departure, to make sure that the womanly wiles of the South cannot cloud his mind and thus his judgment.”
Jon is so busy listening to her words with growing incredulity that he doesn’t even notice her and Arya stripping at first. As he processes what Sansa is saying however, he realizes both of them have began removing their clothes, Sansa’s nightgown slipping off her shoulders and down her otherwise naked body, while Arya has started working open her leathers.
As the younger of the two sisters’ strips, Sansa moves forward to ostensibly help Jon. He stops her of course, completely baffled.
“That’s… s-surely such a tradition would only exist between a married couple! The Lady of Winterfell and her husband, the Lord of Winterfell!”
Sansa smiles a frosty smile and just shrugs, which does quite interesting things to her… assets. Jon can’t deny that the red head has flowered in their time apart. She’s not the girl he knew anymore, and her breasts, full and voluminous, jiggle with the movement of her shoulders as she begins to pull at the ties of his armor, taking it off of him. He notes to himself that… he’s not really stopping her anymore.
“In the majority of cases, yes. But sometimes that wasn’t how it worked. And even then, it fell to the Lady of Winterfell to make sure that her liege could not be fooled into catastrophe by the women of the South. Just as it falls to me now to make sure the Dragon Queen cannot entice you with her body. I’ve heard she’s very, VERY beautiful.”
Jon’s mouth opens and closes, even as his chest is bared. Meanwhile, Arya is naked now too, the shorter girl no less a woman. Even little Arya has grown up in their time apart from one another. Even she’s flowered, though she’s not quite so voluptuous and soft as Sansa. No, Arya would never be caught growing into any sort of body that could ever be considered ‘ladylike’. Instead, she’s all toned muscle, her athletic build still drawing the eye as she flexes and poses surreptitiously for him, clearly basking in the attention.
“I… s-surely you can trust me at my word when I say I won’t think with my dick, yes? Have I done so before?”
Sansa cocks her head to the side and smiles thinly.
“We can’t risk it. Not now, not after all that the North has done to secure its independence. We are fighting for freedom, Jon. And this tradition has gone… ignored long enough. Father did not follow it when he went South, because mother was too busy with Bran. This allowed Cersei Lannister to run rings around him. Robb didn’t follow it when he went South and look where that got HIM. I refuse to let the same happen to you.”
“WE refuse to let the same happen to you.”
Once again, Arya inserts herself into the conversation, standing with her hands on her hips in a defiant pose. By this point, Jon’s cock is out… and much to his embarrassment, is already half hard from the mere sight of the two beautiful and naked Stark women. Still, he turns to her then, trying to find a voice of reason in the face of Sansa’s insanity.
“Come now, Arya. This… surely this isn’t right. S-Surely we shouldn’t do this.”
A small smile plays across Arya’s lips, and she steps forward, laying a hand on Jon’s chest as Sansa makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat.
“Who’s to say what’s right and wrong, Jon? No, rather… isn’t it up to you, to us, to say what’s right and wrong? You’re the King now. Sansa is the Lady. I’m… me. No one left to tell us what to do. No one left to stop us. And I think you know, deep down inside, that this isn’t wrong. That’s why you’re asking me, rather than simply declaring it wrong yourself.”
In a roundabout way, Arya’s words make a lot of sense. Jon swallows nervously, even as the young woman’s lips curl into a wicked grin and her eyes twinkle as she glances over at Sansa.
“Besides. I wasn’t about to let Sansa get ahead of me.”
Jon… wasn’t sure what that even meant, but before he could ask, Sansa was in his face, and those gorgeous tits of hers were as well.
“Let’s begin.”
Each Stark woman takes him by the hand and leads him over to the bed, where they crawl up and lay down, presenting their strikingly different bodies for him. They rest back in the furs and splay their legs apart in offering… and Jon licks his lips, his cock nearly fully erect by this point at the feast of feminine flesh before him.
“I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.”
“You don’t need to. There are two of us, Jon. Just fuck us already, we’ll last until you’re spent.”
“You can fuck Sansa first. I’m still virginal… might as well save the best for last, hm?”
Sansa throws Arya a dirty look, but Arya is too busy grinning at Jon to pay her older sister any mind. Meanwhile… Jon climbs onto the bed. His own muscular, toned body prowls up the length of the bed, until he’s between Sansa’s legs. She watches him carefully, like he’s a predator that might snap at any moment. Taking in a deep breath, Jon exhales slowly… and then places the head of his cock against her slit.
Sansa’s breath hitches, as he slowly pushes into her. She’s already wet, surprisingly so. Something tells Jon that she prepared herself ahead of time though, judging from the way she’s trying to maintain her composure. Still, it was important to him that she enjoy this, that they both enjoy this. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just… used them up and then left or something.
And so, he takes things slow with Sansa. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and knowing of her past experiences with Ramsay, he’s sure she’s been hurt many times before. Lowering his mouth to her full breasts, he suckles at them as he fucks her, his cock sliding in and out of her wet, prepared hole with ease, practically gliding… though he notes that she’s still quite tight and has clearly never had someone of his size before.
“J-Jon… you don’t, nngh, have to s-spare me. Slake your lust on me… s-satisfy yourself with my body.”
Jon’s eyes lift to meet Sansa’s, but before he can even disengage from her breast and reply, Arya leans in, a smirk on her face as she grabs Sansa’s other tit and gives it a squeeze.
“He can fuck me as hard as he wants. If he wants to pamper you, Sansa, you’ll let him. He is the King, after all.”
Flustered and clearly caught off guard, Sansa scowls… for all of a moment before her face contorts in reddened pleasure, a moan leaving her lips as he hits some particular sweet spot inside of her cunt. Jon keeps on fucking her, keeps on taking it slow, and keeps on lavishing her tits with praise. He thinks he manages to draw at least one climax out of Sansa in the process, and certainly by the time he spends his seed on her belly, she’s left breathless and panting, laying back with her eyes up towards the ceiling in wide-eyed disbelief.
Jon goes to get something to clean her up with, an apology for making a mess of her on the tip of his tongue, but before he can say a word or even move off of the bed, Arya is there, bent over in front of him and capturing his flagging cock in her mouth. The wildest of the Stark sisters slurps and sucks him back to fully erect in next to no time, while at the same time cleaning his cock off with her tongue.
Jon can only stare down at her, baffled and wondering where she learned such… skills while they were apart, before finally she pulls back and spins herself around, presenting her body to him on her hands and knees.
“Go on then, Jon. Grab ahold of my hips and-!”
Perhaps it has to do with his time with the Free Folk, but this… this is almost more natural than what he’d done with Sansa, at least for Jon. Or maybe going slow with Sansa had left him pent up or something. Either way, he grabs Arya’s hips and sinks his cock into her sopping wet cunt before she can even finish her instructions. Arching her back, the petite brunette lets out a joyous cry as he thrusts into her tight, virgin quim.
She’s unbelievably tight, her inner walls clenching and massaging up and down his length in a way that doesn’t seem at all random or sporadic. It’s like she’s controlling her cunt muscles, even as Jon finds himself unable to go slow like he did with Sansa. Not in this position. Not with this girl. Arya, of course, happily eggs him on with her moans and her cries and the way she thrusts her hips back into his pistoning prick. And of course, with her words.
“That’s it! Fuck me, Jon! Fuck me nice and hard! Give it to me, don’t you dare slow down! Fuck me HARDER!”
As he does so, Arya gets louder and louder… until being abruptly cut off by Sansa grabbing her sister by the face and pulling her down into a tongue-filled kiss. When they pull apart a few seconds later, Sansa’s eyes are glittering.
“You’re too loud, Arya. Learn to be quiet, or I will teach you.”
“S-Shut up, you-mmph!”
Sansa silences Arya with another kiss, and Jon goes right back to fucking Arya fast and hard, just like she apparently likes it. Her muscled, toned body ripples in his hands, her cunt clenching around his cock. She feels too damn good. To be fair, Sansa felt amazing as well, but in a different way. The Stark girls have both grown up into fine, amazing women… of two very different types.
In the end, Jon pulls back and spills his second load all over Arya’s back. He covers her in the sticky stuff, and while it’s embarrassing, it’s better than cumming inside, he reasons. He has no desire to get either of the two women pregnant.
As Sansa and Arya lay back on one another, panting heavily, covered in his cum, Jon stares down at them both in awe. Even as messy as they both are, they’re gorgeous right now, utterly beautiful. He finds himself just… amazed by how sexy they’re managing to look.
“… Y-You’re still hard.”
Only Sansa’s voice takes him out of his stupor, and he blinks, looking down to realize what she’s already said, that he is indeed fully erect once more.
“… I guess I am.”
“Then it falls to us to handle it… right Sansa?”
Arya’s determination is soon matched by her sister’s as Sansa nods resolutely.
“Y-Yes… it falls to us.”
Needless to say, the rest of the night is filled with more wanton rutting as Jon fucks both Sansa and Arya senseless. The next day, the two are still in bed when he leaves for the South, and while some of Winterfell’s residents wonder to themselves why the Stark girls weren’t there to see their King off, some of the older Northmen and women, such as Old Nan, have knowing glints in their eyes and nod their approval.
Tradition was important, after all. The death of tradition was the first sign of a culture dying out… and the North had been giving ground to the South’s culture for far too long. No more.
Comments
Lord of Debauchery
Hope there’s a sequel to this prompt
