Of Bastards, Brothers and Mended Things (Game Of Thrones)

Rowen snickered and tumbled down into his bunk. "I just can't get away from you... can I?" Rowen mumbled as he pulled off his boots and stretched his toes. He ran his fingers through his long black hair and sighed in relief. "It's been a long day." He added, then smiled and turned over to look at Jon. "I hope you wont be some bad luck charm while we're on The Wall. I'd hate to see what trouble you'd get me into." Rowen laughed deeply and lay his arms and legs out wide, happy to be lying down on a real bed. "Don't try anything funny, got that?" Rowen used his fingers to measure how far away their bunks were and was surprise how little space there was. He looked up, and winked at Jon playfully.
 
Jon burst into muffled laughter as the other made snide comments and seemed to make snow angels in his bunk. “If anything, I should worry about you pulling ‘something funny’ Rowen. You’ve got far more experience in that area than I.” He pulled the thin blankets up farther, a bit distressed by the low quality of bedding. “We’re going to freeze.” He mused, though Ghost seemed to think differently and jumped playfully onto Rowen’s bed, long body stretching across both bunks to warm the recruit’s feet. The Stark bastard chuckled and let his head fall back on the pillow, though his eyes flicked to Rowen’s strong profile every few seconds. “What’s is like to be with a man? Is it like a woman?” Of course Jon didn’t have any experience with both, but he was curious of the difference…despite the fact he would never have a chance at a woman on the wall and the chance for male attention was only marginally larger.
 
Rowen grunted as Ghost flopped on top of him, then chuckled. He thought about how to answer Jon's question as he played with Ghost's soft ears. Rowen licked his lips thoughtfully and stared at the ceiling. "Well..." Rowen began slowly, trying to find a way to gross Jon out the most. "It's about the same as being with a woman... But you do it Dothraki style, it's a lot more painful in the morning depending on where you are in the set up, and just crank the testosterone up real high... Oh... and the noise. It's really fucking loud." Rowen replied, and grinned perversely at Jon. "Especially with me." Then, Rowen burst out in loud laughter. He really had an odd sense of humour.
 
Jon stared at the other man, eyes wide but expression anything but grossed out. He swallowed when the other man finished and burst into laughter and let his head fall back on the bed. Dorthraki style? A flash of sensation ran through him at the image of Rowen’s hands falling on his hips…The Stark bastard sighed, wondering if the other man had any thoughts about him…likely not. Rowen had been sleeping with some King’s Landing man, who was sure to be as beautiful as the city itself. What would he want with some Winterfell bastard? “Interesting…is there any…kissing? Any love to it?” He asked softly, almost like a child inquiring about the ending to a bedtime story. Ghost rolled spastically on his back, legs stretching out into the air as his tail wagged. Jon chuckled at the animal’s yawning whine and shook his head. Across the room, lights began to go out until the two bastards were left in darkness.
 
Rowen shrugged as the candles were blown out and darkness crept down the rows of bunks. In honest truth, Rowen was a passionate and gentle lover. He preferred snuggling and kissing rather than sex, but he had to admit a part of him enjoyed savageness. Rowen's fingers continued to pet Ghost's pure white fur and he lay there thinking. When every light and been extinguished, Rowen finally worked out a response. "Would you like to find out?" Rowen asked. His face was straight, and his eyes were locked on the roof above. It was nearly impossible to tell if he was joking or not.
 
Jon stared at the other man, face flushed and eyes churning with confusion. He licked his lips, considering his answer in the dark of the bunk room. This place is going to be the rest of my life. Rowen is going to be part of this place. I might as well find out now if that will be part of my life. Jon turned over, facing Rowen’s handsome profile. “Only if we both promise that it won’t change anything.” For now. Ghost, as though sensing the sudden decision, hopping gracefully from the bed and trotted off to sleep by the fire.
 
Rowen was slightly surprised that Jon took him so seriously. While Rowen intended to keep the gag running, he stopped as he was about to say something sarcastic. Something churned within the bastard's stomach and he could not stop himself. Rowen rolled over and kissed Jon's lips. "I dunno. You're the sexually confused one." Rowen whispered after drawing back. Rowen smirked mischievously and felt an unfamiliar warmth through his body. What's wrong with you? Rowen's thoughts screamed at him, but the bastard tried to ignore them.
 
Jon’s entire body tensed up when Rowen’s mouth touched his, but within only a second he felt like melted butter. His hands fluttered over the other man’s shoulders before settling on his forearms, gripping him tightly as he returned the pressure of the kiss. He blushed deeply when Rowen pulled away though his grip on the other man’s arms refused to slacken. “And you’re the one with experience.” He murmured, leaned forward for another kiss. Rowen’s lips were chapped just as his were from the long journey, but somehow they felt right against his, more right than the milk maid’s and more right than even Robb’s playful pecks from their childhood. “Rowen…” he murmured in the darkness against the other’s lips.
 
He couldn't stop himself. Each second longer then kissed, Rowen lurched closer and closer. He took a sharp breath inwards as he felt himself grow stiff, only urging his lust. Rowen groaned and gently tugged on Jon's clothes. He heard the Stark bastard mumble his name, but took passing notice to it. "Shut up..." He said quickly and quietly. "You don't... want to wake... everyone up..." Rowen let out a soft but savage groan and began to chew on Jon's lip between each kiss.
 
Jon felt shivers rack his body as Rowen’s hard body was pressed against his, and it seemed his tunic was tugged over his head a moment later. He felt the cold on his skin but Rowen’s lips were hot enough to keep him from complaining. He pulled at Rowen’s clothes as he returned the increasingly frantic kisses. He struggled to obey the other man’s order as his breath became more and more ragged. His calloused hands fumbled clumsily over Rowen’s now bare chest, fingers finding the grooves of the hard muscle and even the pert mounds of his nipples. “You’re not making it…ah! Easy.” he whispered, struggling to contain his moans. It seemed both of their clothes had melted away and the other bastard had wormed his way beneath Jon’s blankets in the small bed.
 
Rowen's entire body throbbed with pain and lust. His eyes fluttered open as he felt Jon's soft breath against his face. Rowen nearly jumped when he noticed how close Jon was to him. Then, he remembered it all. The memory of Jon's moans, smothered by the sheets, made him shiver with delight. But for some reason, Rowen couldn't believe it. Maybe it was just a dream... He thought foolishly, secretly knowing it was true. But at that moment, Rowen remembered there were other people around. Although nobody was awake yet, Rowen still bashfully scotched back into his own back after gently pressing his lips against Jon's. While Rowen seemed relatively calm on the out side, his heart was beating so fast. He was afraid the other heard them. He was also afraid, although he hated to admit it, he may have broken Jon. Rowen grinned to himself. Maybe he was over thinking things.
 
Jon’s eyes fluttered when something soft brushed his bruised lips. He flicked them to the side, studying Rowen’s grin in his peripheral. He shut his eyes again, hoping to sleep a few more minutes. He moved to roll onto his side and had to shove his face into the pillow to stop his gasp of pain from waking the whole room. Pain pulsed sharply through his core for several long moments before slowly to dull ache. He chewed his lip for a moment before tentatively running his hand over his body. His nipples were sore, his shoulders and chest covered in scratches and bites…Gods did Rowen bite. And of course his…backside was less than comfortable. He shut his eyes for a moment, taking in the sensations, savoring them for those silent moments as last night’s events rolled through his mind. He opened his eyes and got his elbows under him, slowly sitting up. His body wasn’t immobile, thank goodness, but training was not going to be fun today. He sighed slowly, tossing a cautious look to Rowen. They’d both said things wouldn’t change…but after spending a night with Rowen in such passion, Jon didn’t know if things could be the same. “Morning.” he whispered.
 
Rowen glanced over at Jon and sighed deeply. "...Do you want something?" Rowen asked. Probably the biggest flaw in Rowen's romantic life was his inability to show affect, specifically while others were in the room. He did not like to act differently around partners. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled his breeches on casually. "The thing I hate about morning: It's damn cold." Rowen muttered to himself. Once the bare minimum of clothing was pulled over his body he flopped back into the cot and stretched out wide. "Care for a snuggle, Princess?" He asked with dry sarcasm and a chuckle in his throat. Dear gods... Rowen thought suddenly, his heart thumping in panic, I hope he isn't a clingy bitch.
 
<DIR>Jon looked at Rowen as if he’d just act if he’d like to be castrated. “Judging by how I’m feeling right now, I don’t think I want to touch you for a month.” That was a lie of course, he wanted to touch Rowen again very soon but…cuddle? Cuddling was what did newly weds and mothers and children did. The Stark bastard swung his legs over the bed and dressed slowly, blushing when his eyes flicked over the marks Rowen had left on him. He sat on the edge of Rowen’s bed when he’d finished, looking over the other male with unreadable black eyes. “Look, I don’t want to sound like a deflowered virgin…Even though that’s what I am.“But last night was…damn good. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.” He offered Rowen a tired but genuinely light filled smile.
</DIR>
 
Rowen sat up and perched next to Jon. Rowen's nose was dangerously close to the Stark bastard's face. He gnashed his teeth like a dog and chuckled. "And that's all you're going to say about it. Y'don't want to be associated with the Sisters of the Wall." Rowen said quietly. "And neither do I." Rowen stared into Jon's eyes for a moment too long, then turned his face forwards. He was slightly embarrassed, but it did not show in his face. Rowen was slightly nervous too. He made a promise to himself not to get involved with anybody on The Wall. The last thing he wanted was immature bullying and blanket parties. He wanted to get as far away from that as possible. "I hope you're not too sore for training." Rowen chuckled, tossing his mussed-up mane of black hair.
 
“I don’t care if people know Rowen.” He moved back to his own bed, curling under the blankets once more. “I won’t brag about it….but the wall is too desperate to send away someone for having a bed partner.” He shut his eyes, contemplating attempting sleep. His lips twitched. “But then again, I suppose I don’t want anyone else crawling in my bed.” He murmured, eyeing Rowen from his place on the bed. The other’s scent wafted up from his blankets, and Jon couldn’t help but wonder if he himself smelled of Rowen. He shut his eyes, thinking over the last few days.

“Recruits up!” Jon groaned and sat up, pulling on his boots and ill-fitting training armor. He tossed Rowen a tired smile and stood up, falling into line for a day on the wall.
 
Rowen was already dressed and ready to get moving by the time the swords-master woke them for the first day of training. While they would be playing with sticks for the first few week, Rowen was just satisfied to partake in legitimate fighting. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but still a few rogue strands swooped in front of his eyes. He nodded his head towards Jon casually to replace a smile, and not long after, the recruits made their way to the dingy training ground.

If there were birds this far north, the you be chirping
. Rowen thought miserably. The sun glimmered off of The Wall, highlighting the blue and deep purple within the massive ice structure. But Rowen could care less. The swords master passed out flimsy wooden training swords, and Rowen suddenly realized that the majority of the new recruits had never learnt to sword fight. He scoffed and tested the weight of the unbalanced stick. He would make do.

"Here's the deal, recruits. Put yerselves into four groups. You'll each get assigned a 'mentor' who will teach you how to fight."
Rowen rolled his eyes and sighed. I should just scram and comeback when the weak ones are weeded out.
 
Jon tried his best not to be agitated with the wooden sword. He’d played with these as a child and it seemed a little silly to be using one when there was a perfectly good sword on his hip. He stood beside Rowen, about to chose a group for himself when it seemed rather suddenly they were in a group that chose them. The Stark bastard felt the scowl before he could think to hide it…all of the weaker recruits must have noticed Rowen and Jon the day before and decided they’d flock with the strongest swordsman thus far. Jon decided to make nothing of it and flipped his faux sword in his hand, trying to get a feel for the awkward weapon. “I think I’d rather beat someone to death with this than actually fight them.” He murmured.

The sword masters wandered out a little while later and dispersed themselves among the group. Within a few minutes of getting into some sort of formation the group was practicing some rather elementary stances and swings. Jon yawned a few times through out the morning, when the instructor wasn’t looking of course, and took to studying the back of Rowen’s head…it was far more entertaining than anything else.
 
After hours of pointless drilling and swordstudy, Rowen was exhausted. Not physically, in truth it was far too easy. But mentally he was sick of his group and his mentor. Rowen nearly cried from joy when the mentor announced lunch break. The black haired bastard threw his wooden sword to the ground and marched off to the dining hall. "'bout fucking time." He moaned loudly as his feet pumped to get to the dinning hall. Just before they entered the massive room filled tables, Rowen snatched Jon by the wrist and silently the two slipped off.

"I was starting to think that would never end. Wadaya say we call it a day, puppy?" Rowen chuckled mysteriously and kissed Jon on the forehead.
 
Jon sluggishly moved towards the dining hall, hungry and tired and sore in too many ways. He was in great shape, but the romping the night before and the agitating mental exercise was just…stupid. He could smell the flavorless food drifting through the open doors and it made his stomach growl. As he reached for the door, he felt himself being pulled away and into the shadow of the wall. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by Rowen’s lips meeting his skin. He blushed and leaned against the nearby wall, eyeing his…bed friend.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, running his hands through his hair to rid the waves of some of the tangles they’d accumulated since his last bath. He eyed Rowen’s strong frame and couldn’t help but recall the fluid motions of his sword play…among other things.