Game of Thrones Meme: Five houses {2/5}
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House Baratheon
- Urgh, what is that?
- Black strap rum.
arya and gendry || 3.04, “and now his watch is ended”
Air is becoming a problem, and when he pulls his lips away from hers, she opens her mouth to suck in a desperate gulp of air, the heat from her skin spreading to her lungs, burning. Her chest rises and falls against his chest, and even though his lips are no longer against hers, his fingers are. His touch is distracting - warm and rough - and it produces a reaction from her so strong, she can barely piece two thoughts together.
Arya realizes she is trembling a bit beneath him, her cheeks flushed, lips bruised and swollen from the desperation of their exchange. There is a warmth in the pit of her stomach, traveling up to her chest and cheeks and shooting like lightening down her legs and toes. This pleasure, it is completely new to her. She has witnessed women squirm and sigh beneath men before, but she’s never understood what actually motivated them. It is becoming clearer and clearer every time Gendry presses his body against her own.
She should be frightened by the intensity of it; on some level, maybe she is, but the pleasure is blinding and powerful, and excites her. Hunting has the same effect; it makes her heart beat and her blood race; makes her feel alive and free; it makes her feel. After years spent trying to eradicate every single emotion in order to become faceless, Arya assumed feeling again would be practically impossible. As with hunting, she enjoys the feeling of adrenaline. This thing they have between them, while new and different, it hasn’t become anything she can’t handle, not yet at least.
Biting her lip, her dark eyes drop to glance down at his bare chest, and her fingers move gently down his neck to run along the length of his collarbone. His voice catches her attention, and she smirks wickedly beneath him, pulling her hands away from his body to stretch over her head, arching her back a bit against him. Oxygen is helping her think once again, and she licks her lips before tilting her head at him.
“And you’re bloody stubborn.”
Gendry’s brows shoot so far up, she expects them to disappear into his hair line, and she makes a face, narrowing her eyes. But his expression is enough and she can already hear his condescending voice in her head. Grunting softly, her smirk widens into a grin, and in an attempt to hide it from him, she pushes against his chest trying to sit up. “Shut up.”
Twisting her body, she grabs his shirt laying next to her and throws it at his lap, before turning over to lay on her side, facing him. Hip and elbow resting on the ground, head supported in her hand, she watches him and takes a deep breath.
“Wouldn’t want you freezing to death,” she mutters, already cold without him pressed against her.
Gendry’d mostly forgotten about the stupid shirt, but pulls it on nonetheless when Arya gives it back to him. He supposes that counted as a kiss then, he thinks wryly, and gives Arya a frustrated look, and a matching noise in his throat follows.
He’s hard, is the problem, would rather go stark naked in the cold than have Arya pull away from him now; he wants to pull her on top of him and—Gods be damned, he shouldn’t have kissed her at all. Or he should have more self-control, be able to kiss her without turning into some sort of… some kind of shoddy prick, like too many he’s encountered over the years, too much wine or ale and not enough good sense to leave a girl alone.
He mutters about the blood when he has the shirt on, breathes in the clangy smell of it anyway, trying to calm his body back down. The cool air doesn’t even seem to helping all that much, but maybe that’s because Arya is still looking at him, expectant.
She’s going to kill him just by looking at him like that, probably, and he groans and turns around, laying down in the makeshift bed of furs they’d abandoned for the ground, for no good reason. “Stop,” he says, probably muffled, “you’ll kill me, and then you’ll end up feeling guilty about it, get caught by gold cloaks, and then we’ll never kill the Queen.”
He wants to turn around and pull her down with him, kiss her neck and keep her close. He clenches his hands into fists instead, and doesn’t turn to look at her even though he can hear her start to move.
The worst part is that he still likes this, all of it, feels good, even though it’s practically torture. It can’t be healthy, he can’t be sane.
Favorite ASOIAF characters » Gendry Waters
“Leave him be,” said the boy with the shaggy black hair who rode behind them. Lommy had named him the Bull, on account of this horned helm he had that he polished all the time but never wore. Lommy didn’t dare mock the Bull. He was older, and big for his age, with a broad chest and strong-looking arms.
Gendry knew,but that was different.Gendry had his own secret,though even he didn’t seem to know what it was.
Only Gendry was different.
