Tales From The House Of Black And White

He smiled up at her as she looked down at him with a playful look in her storm-coloured gaze. He was leaning back on the legs of his chair. He’d been working at his writing desk when he had heard her wake. She had been lying across the foot of their large bed, reading as he’d worked and, as always, she’d fallen asleep while doing so. She was on her knees at the foot of the bed and had leaned over him, her hands slipping over his shoulders to rest on his chest. “I do believe buying this quaint villa was the best idea you’ve ever had, Lorathi.” She murmured with a soft chuckle. “It wasn’t my idea, she-wolf. If I do remember correctly, you told me that if I wanted to keep seeing you? That it was my responsibility to find somewhere tucked away from prying eyes. In fact I rather think your words were something like; ‘Find us a nest, Jaqen H’ghar and a woman will gladly give him herself.’ So it was your idea, I simply obliged you.” He replied in light-hearted taunting, and before she could swat at him jokingly, he stretched his neck upwards and planted a quick kiss on her lips, making her giggle warmly. When she had left Braavos, he declared her No One, and she returned to Winterfell. She had helped her family through their battles and tribulations, but then decided to travel the seas to the West of Westeros. For two years, she’d been at sea and in that time, she had discovered several new realms and cities. Then a further two years, to equal four since she’d left port from Westeros, she had arrived back. A brief stop with her family to let them know she was alive and well, and then she was at sea again, coming back to Braavos. Initially, she hadn’t come back to meet up with him again. That had been a happy accident as she’d stumbled on what she had thought was a thief running from the law, but was in fact, one of his marks. She had taken him down, and he had found her and his mark fighting in a dark and dirty alley. He’d taken out his mark and then removed the face he’d been wearing and casually thanked her for the assistance. She’d been surprised to see him as she hadn’t expected to run into him. Thus, he had offered to buy her dinner, and she had agreed. It was then that they had caught one another up in the last four years of their respective lives. They had remained in that tavern for a rather large chunk of the evening, eating, drinking and talking. It had been lovely to finally have them both on even footing with one another. He’d noted she’d grown into an even more resilient woman than he had ever expected, and he’d complimented her for it. She’d thanked him and then teasingly joked how she’d noted he’d aged like a fine wine from the Summer Isles. He’d known the undercurrent of attraction and desire had been flowing easily between them that evening. So he’d commented on how lovely she had become in her womanhood. She’d blushed and he’d smiled in victory, the action of blushing alone, enough to let him know that he hadn’t been imagining the undercurrent in the slightest. They had, he was not ashamed to say, ended up in an Inn for the night after that. And no, it hadn’t been because either of them was simply too drunk for anything else. On the contrary, they’d still had plenty of their wits and sense about them. The purpose of the Inn was much more intimate, indeed. They’d made love to one another long into the night, only stopping when neither of them could move any longer. Thus they had settled, cuddled together beneath the covers, the blazing fire in the hearth of the room, adding to the warmth of the space. They had remained awake for a while longer, talking more and enjoying the intimacy between them. It had come naturally and easily, and she’d admitted to holding feelings for him for a long while before that night. A sentiment he shared about her, both of them feeling great relief to finally be able to share those feelings and have it be acceptable. Kisses had been shared then, sensual and deep and promises and sweet nothings had been exchanged before they finally fell asleep an hour before dawn’s light. It had been the most blissful, wonderful night he’d had in a very long time, and it was because it had been spent with her. His lovely girl. His Lady of Stark. When they finally awoke late in the morning the next day, they had made love once more before they’d gotten up and dressed. He’d asked her then when he should expect to see her again, and she'd given him a playful smile, kissed him long and slow, and as she pulled away, she'd given him her condition. “Find us a nest, Jaqen H’ghar. Somewhere we can be alone and away from prying eyes. A place that belongs to only you and me. Then you shall see me again and keep me for a lifetime if you wish. Until then? I will be in Tyrosh. And you may write to me and address it to the Mockingbird Inn.” They had separated then, and he had immediately gotten to work on making her request a reality. He had a home that he kept in Braavos. But that wasn’t what his Lady of Stark had wanted. She had wanted something that belonged to them both. Cosy. Private. A place where they could be together as freely as they wished to be and build their own little world of appreciation and love. A place where their days could be filled with time spent together, sharing their hobbies and interests. And their nights were filled with steaming baths, blazing fires and physical passion so deep that it stole their breaths and kept them moving together, long after their bodies had been spent. A place where they could begin to live a life together. It had taken him a few moons to succeed. But finally, one day while on assignment in Myr, he stumbled on the home they now shared. It had been rundown but still plenty habitable, and he had found, after some light sleuthing and questioning, that the place had been owned by a glassmaker, famed for his ability to craft some of the best Myrish lenses. The home he had built on the coastline, on a more rural stretch of it. This, according to the stories, was so that he could test the quality of his lenses before he sold them. If he could look out over the sea and manage to pinpoint species of marine life that were far out easily? Then he knew he had made a good one, which he would then package up and send with the rest to sell. He had died three years previously, and with no surviving family and his spacious but cosy villa, left to the elements with no one to look after it. It had fallen into shoddiness. But it wasn’t unrepairable; it had been perfectly fixable. So he had bought it for a fair price given its condition, and then he had paid tradesmen and crafters to repair it for him and to redecorate based on his stipulations. Once he had received word that it was complete, he returned to Myr and walked through the place. It was perfect. Bright and airy, the halls were filled with the light from the sun, which danced across the floor in a kaleidoscope of colour. Given the stained panes he’d gotten made and fitted within the frames. Direwolves, ravens and foxes were the designs, and it gave the whole home a somewhat mystical sense about it. Whimsical. But functional. It had four large bed chambers, a good-sized kitchen, two drawing rooms and a large dining room. Beneath the foundations, there was an expansive hot spring that not only fed heat through the walls to warm the interior of the villa. But it also served as their bathing area. He'd been more than pleased with it. He had then travelled to Tyrosh and found Arya. He had then brought her to Myr and presented her with their new home. She had fallen in love with it almost immediately. Charmed by its location, the temperate weather and the interior decoration of the place. It was their little oasis. The place where they were free to love and be loved. It had become a home quickly. The place where they felt the most at ease and at peace. And, apparently, Arya still felt that way about it. As did he. They’d been here two years now, and they planned to remain for many more. They had room aplenty for if and when their family grew. They also had a fair amount of land that belonged to them that could later be used to add an extension to the villa. So, if they filled the other three bed chambers with children? They could build extra space for guest rooms. But for now, they had more than enough space, and they were more than content with it. “Obliging me? Sir, you were clearly doing it to ensure you kept me.” She teased him with a soft chuckle, one he returned. “Where that is true. It still does not remove from the fact that I did oblige you. You told me that if I wanted you, I needed to give you a home. So I did just that.” He retorted with a smile, reaching up with his hand to flick her nose lightly. She scrunched her face rather adorably at this, and a glint shone in her lovely eyes. A glint that he recognised. “Is a man finished with his work for the day?” She queried, and his brow rose before he smirked. “For a woman? It can be. What does she have in mind?” He murmured, and she kissed him again, long and deep. When she broke it, her eyes were filled with heat, and he felt his body answer that call. “A woman has reached the midpoint of her cycle. So she invites a man to contemplate what that means…” She trailed off seductively before she lightly pushed him forward. The motion was both to set him upright and also to give her the necessary momentum to fall back onto the bed without tumbling off it. As soon as all four legs of his chair were firmly on the terracotta tile of their bedroom floor. He was pushing back from his desk and standing. Turning to face their bed, he found Arya leaning back on her hands, lounging most seductively in the centre of the large and spacious feather bed. Her day gown of amber-coloured silk hugging the dips and curves of her invitingly. He noted, as his eyes swept over her, the hardening tips of her nipples. The fabric of the thin material of the dress outlined them wonderfully. He felt as the stirring in his body grew stronger, his gaze sliding further down still, pausing to enjoy the inward curve of her waist before it flared outwards again to lead into her hips. His gaze finally stopped on the teasing ‘V’ of her womanhood, and he knew he was lost. But he wouldn’t give in so easily, though he desperately wanted to. He wished to play first. So, reaching back to drag his chair towards him, he turned it and sat down in it, allowing himself to lounge back against it. Adjusting his body so that he was sitting as seductively as she was. Legs parted, with one stretched out in front and the other bent at the knee. He rested an elbow against the armrest of the chair, bringing his hand up to rest against his face. His index finger pressed against his temple, while the knuckles of the other fingers brushed his cheek. His thumb anchored against the side of his jaw. The other arm he left lazily at his side, his hand resting on his upper thigh. He gave her a wolfish smirk when her eyes skipped over his form hotly. She always enjoyed it when he spread himself for her in such a manner. “Pull it up, my lovely girl. Open your legs and show me where you want me…” He purred darkly, his voice filled with plush sensuality. Her eyes flashed wantonly before she bent her knees, pulling her legs up and allowing them to fall open slowly. Her hand caught the fabric of her dress and tugged just enough for it to naturally slide backwards over her legs and thighs. Soon, she was completely open to his gaze. His nose flared as his eyes were filled with the sight of her dark, neatly kept curls. She hadn’t bothered with small clothes today. Not that it surprised him, he had imagined as much with how clearly her dress had shown the outlines of her form. Spreading her legs wider, he watched as her folds parted with the movement, and he saw the wonderful glistening of her already slickened womanhood. He wanted to groan in pleasure at the sight alone, his tongue aching for a taste of her. But that wasn’t what this was about at the moment. He would devour her later. For now, he had other ideas in mind. “Yes, just like that. Milady follows instructions well. Next, she is to show her assassin what she wants from his body. She should use her hands…” He instructed further, his words taking on the same tone he used to use when he mentored her within The House. A tone that had her shuddering and her eyes snapping with passion. But she didn’t hesitate before she took her hand and brought it to her mouth. She sucked two fingers between her lips, wetting them before running her hand down her form. She traced a path, slow and sensual, from her chin down over her throat to her chest. Here she deviated for a moment and danced her fingers over her breast, where she squeezed and massaged for a moment, plucking at her nipple and coaxing it to harden even more. Her small sighs and murmurs were enough to tell him that the fires of desire were well and truly burning within her. He breathed a shuddering sigh himself as his hand on his thigh twitched before it dragged a tantalising path upwards and over the front of his linen trousers. Where he began to slowly and softly caress his already hardened length. Noticing this, Arya bit her lip as her hand left her breast to glide down the centre of her body, where her fingers slid between her folds and she began to tease herself. Her pace was unhurried as she ran her fingers up and down. Gliding them from her bundle of pleasure nerves to her entrance, allowing them to dip inside of herself and pump lazily. Their eyes only left one another's when they swept their gaze over one another to watch the other in their deliberately slowly building pleasure. But soon their eyes would lock again, and they would maintain contact. As Arya picked up her pace a little, her gasps, soft and pleasured, were growing in strength, as she rocked and swayed her hips against her hand. And Jaqen had never had a vision so arousing as what she presented at the moment with her fingers dipping in and out of her heat, before sliding up to toy and play with her clit. The movement drew the clear and glistening fluid from within her, through her folds to coat the pink and inviting plumpness of her intimate flesh. Plump due to her need and pleasure, causing her to swell delightfully in arousal for him. She worked her bundle of nerves while beginning to softly moan his name, her eyes locked with his. His hand unlaced his trousers and dipped inside to draw his manhood from its confines. He wrapped his fingers around himself and squeezed the space just below the ridge that marked the head of his masculinity. Arya’s tongue darted out to quickly lick her lips as her eyes found the milky fluid that was weeping from the head. He smirked before he rubbed his thumb over the tip of himself, lightly rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers and thumb. He released a sigh of her name, before he drew his hand down over himself, beginning a slow and torturous pumping. Drawing more of that milky fluid with each pass that he made. Passes that had him sighing in building bliss and lubricating his length. As the pleasure washed through him, he gave Arya a pointed and disapproving look. She had stopped in her motions, so infatuated with watching his. Understanding his look for what it was, she swirled her thumb around that sensitive bundle of hers, adjusting her hand so that her fingers could dip in and out of her at the same time. He gave her a lustful look of approval then, as he began to pump himself a little faster. Gods, but this was the most erotic thing, and he enjoyed these moments with her about as much as he enjoyed burying himself to the hilt inside of her. There was no discomfort between them in these things. There had never really been. There had been nerves on her side, sure, the first few times he'd ever asked her to pleasure herself for him while he watched. But they had given way quickly, and she'd soon fallen into the moment, allowing herself to be carried away by it. But this eroticism between them had always been there. Both were so comfortable with one another that they could do this and get nothing but pure enjoyment and bliss from it. It had become one of their favourite methods of foreplay. They edged themselves to the point that they became insatiable and wouldn't be satisfied until they were driving against one another in a crash of lust, love and deep want. Gods, but he could not get enough of her. He wanted her all the time. Day or night. Rain or shine. Moon's blood or not. It didn't matter to him. He wanted her, and he would have her. And she never denied him. Rather, she met his ardency with her own. It was a Gods damned miracle that she hadn’t become laden with child yet. With how frequently he filled her with himself. But then…they were meticulously careful and never forgot to use their seed-killing blend. Of course, now, though, they had agreed to stop using it and let nature do what it would when it would. They weren’t actively trying to make her heavy. But they also weren't actively stopping it either. So they still tracked her cycle and made sure to join together at least once during her midpoint. Four moons they'd been doing this now, and no success as yet. But they still had plenty of time and plenty of patience. If it was meant for them, then it would happen. But they weren't pressuring themselves or each other for it. They simply enjoyed one another as they usually did. Soon, the room was filling with the sounds of their mutual pleasure, and it wasn’t long until he decided they both had too many clothes on. So he spoke, his voice laced with dark sensuality and seduction. “Take it off, my Arya. I want to see all of you. Not just your perfect slit.” He watched as she hurried to do as he told her, taking off her dress and tossing it to the side. He cursed softly as his eyes were graced with her in all of her sensational nudity. The indigo and orange shades of the stained glass of their room windows cast her smooth skin with an inviting and decadent light. His lips burned to enclose themselves around her hardened nipples as she arched with a deep call of his name. Her fingers had plunged deep within herself as soon as she’d tossed her gown. With another curse, he dragged his hand away from his aching cock, and made fast work of removing his clothing. Returning to his open and lounging position, he quickly took hold of himself again and started to pump faster, squeezing harder. The burst of pleasure had him arching as well, as his eyes fluttered closed and her name was dragged from his throat in a deep rumble that reverberated in his chest. Fuck, but he needed to get inside of her and soon. She was soaked; he could see it clearly. Her sheath was not far off from beginning to weep for him. “Come here and sit on me.” He ordered darkly and watched in delight as she tore her hands from herself and slid from the bed, walking over to him with her hips swaying deliciously and her eyes blazing with heat. When she reached him, she slid over his lap, and he captured her wrist quickly. Bringing the fingers she’d been using to pleasure herself to his mouth, he gave her a hot look before he took them between his lips and sucked. He rumbled out a masculine moan, tasting her on her fingers. She cursed crudely as he swirled his tongue over and around her fingers, and he noted how her lower half tensed. He imagined her womanhood had just given a painful clench. He smirked around her fingers then, before he angled himself with her entrance and raised his hips. Understanding his unspoken demand, she shuddered and then she sank onto him fast and hard. Her cry of relief and wanton bliss was enough to make him growl low in his throat as the sensation of her walls clamping around him flooded his system. Gods, but she was fucking perfectly built for him. Releasing her fingers with an obscene popping sound, he gripped her hips and lifted her before slamming her back down on him. She cried out again, bringing her hands to his shoulders where she sank her nails into him. “Fuck!” She cursed with a deep and ragged moan. “You always make me feel so full, my assassin. I can never get enough of you being inside of me. I’d live forever like this if we could.” She added, and his arousal surged even more. But before he could say anything else, she leveraged herself against his shoulders and was rising, to slam herself back down, and it was his turn to moan wantonly. “Fuck me hard and fast, Arya. Use me like you’ve paid for me.” He growled, and she shuddered before she rose again and did just what he’d told her to do. Within moments, they were moving in a frenzy of bodies, their minds being stolen with the sensation of their manic coupling. Harder and faster they slammed into one another, her cries becoming screams and his moans becoming shouts as they writhed together, in abstract hedonism. He tilted her backwards, angling her so that he could pull a nipple into his mouth and drag his teeth over it, before biting down. She released a squeak of surprise, but it soon turned into a moan as she began to roll into him as opposed to bouncing. The new position made it difficult for her to sink up and down upon him. Not that he minded, he was deep, deep within her, and the rolling was divine, especially when he matched her movements. Soon they were rolling, swaying and grinding on each other. The pleasure created a wonderfully deep and blinding sensation that was threatening to pull him over the edge. But he wasn’t alone. Arya’s breathing began to hitch as he suckled on her nipple and swirled his tongue over it. Dragging his mouth away from her chest, his hand came up and wrapped around her throat tightly, as he pulled her into a mind-melting kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth and began to mimic the rolls and undulations of his hips as they moved his cock within her. He tore his mouth from hers but kept his hand around her throat, as their eyes met. “A man swears he’ll put a son in you, this day!” He growled, his gaze never once wavering from hers. He was completely lost to his lust for her, now. And then he was dragging her back into another kiss. She moaned and then gasped as he shifted her again, angling her just so, to begin thrusting into her hard and deep. He was so close now, so very tantalisingly close, and he could tell she was as well as her mouth tore from his and her moans turned to screams of bliss once more. He was deadly serious in his promise to her. He would cage her in this fucking room for the next day or two and flood her over and over again. He was done waiting. He wouldn’t rest until she was filled to the brim with his seed, making it so it would be impossible for it not to take root this time. He knew she wanted his child desperately, though she never said it or pressured him for it. But he could see it in her eyes anytime they talked about it. So he wouldn’t let her down and would give her what she wanted, like he had given her himself, their home and their life together. Because he also ached to see her swollen with new life because of him. There was no other woman more suited to bearing his children than his lovely girl. His beautiful Lady of Stark. She was made to be the mother of his offspring. He knew it like he knew his name. And as he gave one final bone-shaking thrust within her, he felt her explode around him and with a broken cry of his name, she dragged him under with her. The force of her release brought his down upon him as well. And as he released a guttural call of her name. He sent a prayer to the Gods. Let him find his mark so that he may quicken within her. As the last of their explosive releases were wrung from them, he sagged back against his chair, and Arya fell forward. Her body dissolved bonelessly against his as they both panted for breath, mentally coaxing their heart rates to come down. But with the almost instant effects of exertion came a most wondrous melting of their bodies in deep, deep satisfaction. His muscles felt like liquid, and his eyes slid closed in delightful fatigue. A jaw-cracking yawn against his chest from Arya, a split second later, had him smirking in pride while also letting him know he wasn’t alone in the delicious feeling of utter relaxation that he was currently experiencing. Hmm, he thought with amusement, la petite mort indeed. But he knew they couldn’t stay in the chair for much longer. No, their bed would be much more comfortable. So, summoning a strength that he didn’t know he could possess in moments such as this, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Then, with an effort that was greater than he would ever admit, he rose to his feet and within moments was falling into their bed and kicking the covers up and over them. Arya didn’t speak; she simply hummed contentedly and snuggled deeper into his chest. Glancing down at her, he bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as her eyes closed. He knew she would be out cold very, very soon. Not that he blamed her, he was halfway there himself. Adjusting her over the top of him a bit better, he got comfortable himself and soon his eyes were slipping shut as well. -X- “Should we get married, Jaq?” Arya murmured as she rested her head over his shoulder, curled up against his side. They had rested for a few hours, sleeping off their afterglow, before waking not too long ago. Neither was in a hurry to get up from their bed. They didn’t have anything to do today, so they could simply enjoy their time together. As she spoke, her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. He froze for a moment, not expecting the question and blinked at her in silence, before he smiled. “But my fair Lady of Stark? A man thought you swore you would marry none?” He teased her jokingly, and she puffed out an exasperated breath that made her bangs flutter a little. “No, no. What I swore was that I wouldn’t become someone’s wife or give them children.” She retorted with a chuckle. “You’re not someone…” She further teased, her eyes sparking with mischief. “Ah a loophole.” He replied with a smirk, rolling them until she was on her back with him resting over her, her legs shifting easily to accommodate him between them. She tangled their legs together loosely, while he held himself up on his forearms by her head. Taking a hand, he brushed it through her hair gently before cupping her cheek. “Arya Stark is to be No One’s wife, and mother to No One’s children. A man sees clearly now. She is a wily one, isn’t she?” He added playfully before he leaned down and kissed her slow, long and deeply. When he pulled away, he gazed down at her for a few moments and thought about what it would be like to be married to her. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be wed at all. Being No One and all of that. But then he wasn’t overly concerned about this. The House’s thoughts, that is. He wasn’t planning to remain there much longer. He had ideas for a different future for himself now. One that allowed him freedom to do as he wished, when he wished, and to never have to fear what would happen should he and Arya be found by the wrong people. He wanted her for his own in every single way, and that included having her as his wife. They were already trying to make a child, so it was only natural that they would marry as well. He wanted that. He wanted that very much. “Do you wish to marry a man, Arya?” He asked her, running his thumb over her cheek affectionately, his gaze soft and warm. “Because if you truly want to become his wife? Then he will, with honour, take you as such.” He added and watched as her eyes lit up with happiness, and even before she spoke, he already knew what her answer was going to be. And she soon confirmed his thoughts. “Absolutely I do. I don’t know if you’ve realised it, Jaqen H’ghar? But a woman is rather deeply in love with you. Are you sure you’re an assassin and not a sorcerer? Because I imagined I was quite unable to fall in love with anyone until you.” She explained, her tone light and teasing, yes. But it was also brimming with honesty in her words, and his heart leapt at the knowledge. He had, of course, imagined that they were both very much in love with each other. After all, almost three years together would have absolutely seen that happen. But, he realised, it had gone unspoken between the two of them. It was simply something that was. Something that they both knew. But they’d never felt the need to say it, their actions and care for one another, usually doing all of the emotional talking for them. But to hear her say it? To hear her tell him she loved him? It was a heady feeling that sent his heart soaring and racing all at once. And he thought that was probably best, because it made it all the more potent to hear it now. Gave it a much deeper sentiment that it otherwise may not have had, if said more often. “I may have considered the possibility.” He teased gently before continuing more seriously. “Given I am also very much in love with you, Arya Stark.” He replied and promptly found his head pulled down so that her lips could crash over his and kiss him so very deeply that it left him a little breathless. “Then we will marry, yes?” She asked him a little shyly, now that the reality of the moment had caught up to her again. And he smiled warmly. “Yes. We will. Tomorrow. Before I have to return to Braavos. Lest the House come looking for me for being away too long.” He replied, before kissing her again. It was only meant to be sweet and affectionate. However, as it grew deeper and more passionate, he felt his body begin to ready for her again. Something she felt, and as her hips rolled up into him, he knew they weren't escaping another bout between the sheets. Which was just fine with him. After all, he had sworn to her and himself that he would get her this moon. And given that he would have to leave tomorrow, and he was marrying her too? He needed to make the most of the remainder of their day and night. He wouldn’t be back for another couple of moons, given he'd be tying up all of his loose ends in Braavos and selling his home there. After which point, he would move to Myr, where he and Arya would live permanently. -X-