Chapter Text
Robb's thing was the first, it just appeared in their fucking and fumbling without warning, until Jon and Theon founds themselves surprised by the things they were doing – the things Robb was asking them to do. Perhaps Theon's always secretly resented Robb for that, how easy it was for him, how he never even had to ask before he was getting his brains fucked out just how he liked. From the beginning, fawning over Robb was the easiest thing to do. Theon thought it should have been him, older and more experienced showing the two virgins they ways of things, but that was never going to happen. Jon probably would have killed him first. Instead it played out the way things usually do, the two of them desperately competing for Robb's attention and Robb pretending to be oblivious to the fact, but reaping the rewards regardless.
Theon had been behind Robb's back, sliding his prick across his skin while kissing and sucking at his neck, while Jon stroked his cock frantically from the front, teeth dug into Robb's collarbone, looking up at him with big, wide, Stark grey eyes. Robb just threw his head back, and moaned at the pleasure of it all. Theon's hands on his hips were meant to keep him steady, but in the heat and sweat it wasn't hard for things to slip, for Theon to slip until his cock slid between the cheeks of Robb's arse, pretty and pink, and Robb only moaned louder.
He'd become used to running his mouth off while they did this, same as he did in every other situation, and they'd both just ignored him except for once or twice when Snow became embarrassed and snapped, “Shut up, Greyjoy.” Still, Theon didn't see any harm in talking. “You like that Robb, do you? Lordling likes my cock against his arse, up against his little hole?” Robb tensed, and Theon cursed as his tip almost caught in his entrance. “You want me to fuck you, I bet you do. Want me to take you like one of your bloody wolves, like a bitch in heat, is that right?”
Snow groaned. “Theon,” he warned, and Theon just smirked.
“If Robb wants me to shut up, he can tell me himself.”
“Theon,” Robb moaned as Snow jerked him harder. “I do. I want you to.”
Theon had been insulted, vaguely, as Robb gasped at the touch of Snow's hand. He was almost resigned to keeping his mouth shut (not something he's ever been good at), but Robb wasn't finished. “I want you to fuck me, Theon.”
He'd been surprised. Which, given how he'd just told Robb how he knew he wanted it, didn't make a lot of sense. There was no time to think about that though before Robb went on. “I want your cock in me, Theon. I want you to come inside my hole. I want you to leave me dripping with it. I want to feel you inside me the next day...”
“Robb,” Jon choked, biting his lip with a jealous glare. Theon smirked. Robb laughed.
“Y-you too, Jon,” Robb stuttered a little, and that's the closest thing to hesitation they've ever gotten out of him. “I want you both inside me, fighting over who can fuck me better, longer, harder. I want you to get impatient and take me from both ends, in my mouth and my arse, skewer me like a roast pig. I want–” Robb cut off with a cry as Theon fucked up against his hole, wanting nothing more that to plunge straight in and give Robb exactly what he wanted, but not willing to risk it, not yet. “I want you both in me at once,” Robb whispered, and Theon thought he was ashamed for a second but no, his voice had just gone hoarse, “sharing my arse, pressed up against each other inside me. You'd have to get along then, wouldn't you?” He laughed again, and Snow hissed, biting at Robb's neck. “I want – I want the stretch of it. Feeling like I'll break if you fuck me any harder, but you just keep fucking me harder. And I love it, because that's what I'm for; I'm no lord, I'm no heir, I'm just a cheap whore you can put as many cocks in as you like–”
Robb shut up with a final moan, one that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, shuddered its way through his whole body. Snow gasped as Robb's come splashed across his chest. Theon could only shake his head in disbelief, that the heir of Winterfell's mind and mouth were so much filthier than anything he could have come up with.
Robb leaves an afternoon sparring session early, claiming a headache (this makes Theon struggle not to laugh). Once Jon and Theon are done and Ser Rodrik lets them go, they return to Theon's chambers to find Robb perched on the end of Theon's bed, staring out the window inscrutably. He barely seems to notice when they come in. His face looks so sombre and stern he could be his lord father, or at least sitting in his lord father's chair, attending to the peasantry in ways far more dull than the ways he attends to them. Well, that is, except for the fact he's stark (ha) naked, cock red and swollen against his thigh.
Theon smirks as he kneels on the bed, coming up behind Robb, laying his hands on Robb's shoulders. “Have you been waiting long, little lordling?” he whispers, breath hot against Robb's ear. Robb shudders.
“Not as long as I was afraid of,” Robb says. Theon huffs. Well of course, hence why they found him naked, but still refined and composed, keeping his hands to himself. Usually Robb gets impatient, and they find him with one hand around his prick, the other sliding fingers inside himself – two or three, usually, but once four – moaning both their names. Theon remembers that time they caught him with a candle, and not one of the small ones he could have found by Theon's bedside, but something thick and sturdy he must have pinched from the Winterfell kitchens (Theon would never have gotten away with that, neither would Jon, but no-one could ever imagine precious Robb a thief and certainly no-one could imagine what he was thieving for). That was one hell of a sight, watching Robb fuck himself on cold wax like it was a cock, and Theon could hardly blame Snow for what he did, charging across the room to knock Robb's hand away so he could plunge the candle deeper into him himself. It had been a good night, Snow huffing like a wolf as he fucked Robb on an empty object, taking himself in hand until his seed splattered across Robb's spread thighs. Theon had smirked, as always, had teased and taunted until he did the same across Robb's face. Robb had just grinned once they were done, covered with their come. I missed you two.
Theon takes a deep breath. Robb might forgive him if he doesn't last too long, but Snow will never forget it. “Lucky you,” he murmurs, pressing himself against Robb so he knows Robb can feel his prick straining through his breeches. “Lucky we just can't stay away. Not when we've got such a greedy slut waiting for us.”
Robb moans and Theon can practically hear him smiling. Jon's moved so he's standing in front of Robb, and Theon briefly catches his eye. He doesn't smile. Even when he's fucking, he's bloody sullen, Theon thinks (but he knows that's not always true). Snow offers his thumb in front of Robb's face. “Suck.”
He does so without question, bobbing his head like a whore, trying to suck the thumb in deeper even as his lips brush against Jon's knuckle. Theon groans at the sight. Robb and Jon both love giving head, and Theon only half-understands what they get out of it, but he's hardly going to complain about two pretty little things eager to suck his cock. Not that Jon seems like he's in much of a mood to do so tonight, no, for whatever reason his bastardly resentments have gotten the better of him, and he'll take it out on Robb who'll be just too willing to let him. Theon shivers, and tries not to think about it too much.
“You like that, Lord Stark?” he whispers, cock hard against Robb's backside. “You want your bastard brother to fuck your mouth? I'm sure he will, as long as you ask nicely.”
Robb pulls off with a gasp, tilting his head up to plead with Jon with his eyes (Theon almost regrets their positions. He loves Robb's eyes). “Jon, please,” he begs, but he sounds less vulnerable than you'd expect.
Theon expects Jon to go for his breeches, too much of a green boy to deny the promise of Robb's pretty mouth around his cock, but he skips that step, instead grabbing Robb by the hair and just forcing his face against Jon's crotch. Robb moans in shock and arousal, and Theon bites his lip as he watches. Robb fucking nuzzles against Jon's prick, breathing in the scent as much as he can. Snow's eyes roll back in his head as Robb opens his mouth, spreading his lips across the taut fabric, moaning as he sucks at the tip, unable to get any more through dry cotton, Jon's breeches becoming wet with precome and saliva.
Theon can't help himself, starts frantically tearing at his own breeches so he can pull out his cock, so he can spread Robb's arse with his other hand, slide his prick against that tight hole he knows is just aching to take him. Robb doesn't exactly keep that secret; the second Theon does it, he gasps, loudly, and starts thrusting his hips back frantically; Theon can hear him whispering more, more, more. “You're such a fucking whore,” he snarls, but he's not angry, he loves Robb like this (he loves Robb). “Look at you, begging to be taken from both ends, aren't you?”
Robb pulls off Jon and nods, trail of spit connecting his lips, red as his hair, to Snow's wet breeches. Theon smirks. “What would your lady mother say?” he asks, and Robb groans.
Jon groans too. “Theon.” Snow has fixed him with a warning glare, and Theon's not sure what that's about, if it's because he's mentioned Lady Catelyn or because he's stopped Robb sucking Snow's cock or what. Then Snow casts his eyes to Theon's bedside drawer, and Theon rolls his eyes. Oh. I wasn't going to forget, Snow, he thinks, even if up to that point he sort of had. It's not easy, pulling himself away from Robb's body long enough to go looking for the oil (luckily it's oft-used, so its easy to find) and he thinks he'll just have to fuck Robb harder to make up for it.
He turns back around and sees Snow has finally undone his laces, not that Theon can see what's beneath them, because Robb's already there, red curls bouncing as he fucks Snow's cock with his mouth and Snow urges him forward with a pale hand, deeper, even as Theon thinks there can't be much more to take (he's sure Robb would be gagging if weren't so well practiced). A strange wave of jealousy comes over him. Snow's prick is as pretty as the rest of him, Theon knows that, and it would be nice to see it. The same goes for Robb's mouth. Theon's not overly sure what he's thinking, so he decides his best strategy is not to think at all, and the best way to do that is to start fucking Robb is soon as he can. He's back at his back in a second, oil in hand but he can't pull himself away long enough to use it. “Slut,” he spits as he peers over Robb's shoulder, watching that those eager lips take Jon right to the back of his throat. “You can't help yourself, can you? When your lord father tries telling you about duty and responsibility and propriety and all that, all you can think about is having a cock in your mouth and a cock up your arse, isn't it?”
Robb groans, nodding once more. Jon's breath hitches, and Theon grins. Jon can't bring himself to speak to Robb the way he does, too much of a Stark, too honourable (too much Robb's brother), but Theon knows he likes listening to what he says almost as much as Robb does. “What would you do without us, little Robb?” he wonders. “I bet you couldn't help yourself. You need it too much. You'd be fucking every man in Winterfell, wouldn't you?” Well, probably not your own father, Theon thinks but given Robb is currently sucking his half-brother's cock maybe he shouldn't be so sure. “Maybe you wanna do that anyway. What do you think, Robb? Just lay down on the table in the great hall and beg any man who walked by to have his way with you. You're such a cute little thing, I'm sure they'd say yes. I think you're so pretty they couldn't even bear waiting, they'd just crowd around you, shoving and pushing and grabbing, whatever it takes to get a piece. Do you reckon you could take more than two at once? I think you could. You've had us both in your arse before, and in your mouth. Could you take both at once, I wonder, four cocks in your holes, half of Winterfell waiting for their turn, fisting their own cocks so they'll come all over you; would you like that Lord Stark?”
Jon groans, long and low, and Robb is practically shrieking as he writhes in Theon's arms. Theon grins. It's the dirtiest fantasy Robb has, and also probably the stupidest – they all know it's impossible, truth be told; not even Robb's body could handle that. Even if he could, politics. It's one thing for the future Lord of Winterfell to debase himself in private, with two men he trusts absolutely (Theon's stomach always tightens slightly when he thinks Robb trusts him, absolutely) – it would be another entirely to do so with the whole castle. Some things have to be kept secret, and the fact Robb Stark loves being fucked like a back-alley whore is one of those. Still, Theon loves going over the idea, making Robb remember how much he'd like it. Maybe that's a bad idea, but he can't help himself (he knows he thinks about it too much when Robb's not here also). Sometimes he wonders what Robb would do if he and Jon weren't here.
He and Jon are both jealous types, that's another reason it would never happen.
Robb pulls off Jon, the hand in his hair letting go immediately as soon as Robb indicates he wants to break free. “Theon,” he says, voice practically choked out of him, “Theon fuck me. Theon I need it. I need your cock inside me...”
“I'm getting there, Lord Stark,” Theon smirks to himself. He can't help but be pleased Robb said your and not a.
Robb just moans as Theon finally pulls away, frantically opening the oil to dip two fingers in it. Maybe he should go slower, but he can't bring himself to, not with Robb moaning like that as Snow rubs his prick against his swollen lips, hips twitching with the urge to have something inside and be fucked. Theon doesn't even really think about it before he slides two fingers straight to the knuckle, and Robb cries out so loud that Jon pulls on his hair and slides his prick back between his lips to hush him.
Snow isn't looking at Robb though, he's looking at Theon; glaring, almost. You're going too fast, Theon can hear his accusing voice, and he shrugs. “He can handle it,” he says, and immediately starts second-guessing himself. Robb can handle it, Theon knows he can (he has had them both fuck him at once before), but it must hurt at least a little and while Theon knows Robb can take pain, he doesn't enjoy it. He tried once. Robb had been sucking his cock and pulled away, and Theon slapped him, hard across his face. Robb just glared in hurt and confusion. What the hell was that for?!
It had made Theon's grin falter. I thought you might like it.
I didn't.
That rather settled the matter.
As if reading his mind (or maybe Theon just let his fingers start hesitating), Robb pulls off, and laughs. “Theon,” he says, moan in his voice. “If you stop for a second, I will fucking kill you.”
Theon smirks up at Snow. Snow just rolls his eyes, grabs Robb by the hair again and starts fucking his throat, as if to prove a point. Theon thinks it proves another point entirely. See, you like it as rough as I do Snow, just not when you're the one taking it.
Theon shakes his head. Now's not the time.
Theon curses as he feels Robb clench around his fingers, so tight he thinks they might break – really, Robb shouldn't be capable of that given how thoroughly fucked he's been over the past several months, but Theon's not going to complain. He has to be grateful for Jon's prick, because without it he's pretty sure half the castle would hear Robb moaning. It's a damn shame they have to be so secretive, because Robb sounds amazing when he screams in pleasure, and he knows that secretly Robb wants everyone to know. Nothing gets Robb off like thinking everyone knows the heir of Winterfell is a slut, he and Jon both know that – they've had to stop Robb from drunkenly getting on his knees to suck them off under the dinner table before, which required more self-control than Theon ever thought he had (he did let Robb do it with his hands once, at a feast Snow wasn't allowed to, but he's not going to mention it). We should go back to the cottage, he thinks. Theon's still proud of his find, an abandoned cottage in the middle of the woods where no-one would hear them. Jon and Robb had taken some persuading, at least until Robb was on his back, screaming. They started with Robb, because of course they did. They've been back there a couple of times, but it's been awhile, and Theon's not quite sure how to bring it up. He'll think about it later.
He finds he's slipped a third one inside Robb without even really thinking about it. Robb doesn't seem to be complaining, bouncing back and forth between the two of them, hands grabbing at Snow's thighs, his hips, his balls as he lowers himself again and again. I wonder if Robb could fit those in his mouth too, Theon wonders, and resolves that one day he'll find out. Jon has gone bright pink, mouth hanging open in a shuddering, silent gasp, fist in Robb's hair pulling him down, again and again, until it's a wonder even Robb doesn't choke. Theon smirks. He can't last. He thinks about Robb's face, covered in come like he likes, and finds he can't hold out anymore, he has to fuck him.
Robb makes a surprised noise when Theon moves, spreading his legs around him, then pulling Robb down into his lap. Robb lets go of Jon, head left bouncing against his lips, dripping down his chin, and Jon shudders. “I'm gonna fuck you now,” Theon bites on Robb's earlobe, arm wrapping around his waist to take his cock in hand. “Going to make you scream like a bitch when I come inside you. You like that, Stark?”
“Gods, yes, Theon, fuck me, fuck me hard, I need it, you know I do, I need your come inside me–” Theon pushes in while Robb's in the middle of rambling, cutting him off. Pity. Still, the desperate gasp Robb makes as Theon bottoms out inside him does a lot to make up for it. It's not gentle, it can't be, not like this; Theon spreads Robb's arse wider with his hands, and it only takes about three thrusts until they find a rhythm, hard and desperate, Robb's skin smacking against his loudly. Theon groans and moans against Robb's neck, not sure how long he can last like this either.
Snow's hands are back in Robb's hair. “Robb,” he moans, pulling him onto his cock again. By instinct Robb goes back to what he was doing before, taking Jon right to the back of his throat. “Seven hells,” Jon hisses as Robb sucks him, and Theon laughs at the thought of Lady Catelyn's face if she heard her husband's bastard dragging her gods into his defiling her firstborn. As if Robb wasn't defiled long ago.
Jon's groan comes from somewhere deep inside him, and the sound of it makes Theon shudder and fuck Robb harder (if that's even possible). Robb makes a surprised noise as he's pulled away, left with only the tip in his mouth. Jon takes a moment, panting to catch his breath, staring hard into Robb's eyes. “Face, or throat?”
Robb shudders in delight, and Theon buries a smirk against his shoulder. This moment is always fantastic – the moment where Robb realises he loves come too much to know what he wants them to do with it. Swallow it all down, taste it at the back of his throat for hours, remembering every time what they did with him? Or to wear it across his cheeks and his chin, like a badge of honour, as long as he can get away with, and even if he cleans himself he can't be sure he won't miss a spot; that Lady Catelyn won't see something, won't say Robb, you have something on your face, and then they'd both turn red as their hair as they realised. Fuck, Theon's really not going to last.
Once Theon watched Jon fuck Robb, touched himself, and just before he came he was struck with the strangest impulse. He grabbed an empty glass and finished inside it, and then once Jon and Robb were done he handed it to Robb, just to see if he would drink it. And Robb did. Jon and Robb both shivered with lust when that happened, but it slightly disgusted Theon. Sometimes Robb slightly disgusts him. Not so much for what they do to him, but for just how eager he is about it, the way he moans, the way he begs. Theon knows Robb likes being treated like a whore, because he's the heir of Winterfell and he has too much pressure on him and his mother would die of shock, but sometimes Theon can't respect him any more than the actual whores he's been doing these things to for years.
But it's Robb, and Theon's never been able to deny him anything.
“Face. Please.” Robb eventually answers, and Jon nods with a stern frown, taking himself in hand and pulling back. Robb gasps, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in anticipation.
“No,” says Theon, closing his hand tighter around Robb's prick. “Open your eyes. I want you to see.”
It's not like he himself can really see Robb's eyes from here, but he knows how lovely they are, as lovely as Jon's cock. He wants them to be looking at each other went it happens. And Snow thinks I'm selfish. Snow is in fact looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you want to explain to Maester Luwin why he has come in his eyes?”
“No. You'd better aim then.”
Robb groans. “Quit it, you two.” And just like that, Jon and Theon are back under control. No matter how much Robb wants them to degrade him and treat him like a whore, it'll always be him in charge underneath it all. Still, they probably shouldn't go telling him that.
Theon claims victory, in his own mind at least, because Robb does keep his eyes open.
It doesn't take long. Jon bites his lips until they bleed to keep from moaning too loud as he jerks himself onto Robb's face. Robb doesn't think of any such thing; his mouth hangs open expectantly, great shuddering cries coming over him like waves as Theon fucks into him roughly. With some panic, Theon realises he needs to shut him up. He doesn't really think about it, just shoves three fingers in Robb's mouth, then groans as Robb sucks them as eagerly as he sucked Jon's prick. You lucky slut, he thinks as Robb's greedy mouth almost pulls the skin from his hand, unable to to name the emotion the thought is laced with.
(Envy?)
Jon does moan when he comes, but its quiet enough that Theon doesn't really worry about it. Robb shakes all over, grinding his hips against Theon desperately, but he stays quiet. It's actually Theon who's the loudest of them, feeling himself slide deeper into Robb, deeper than he thought was possible and he bites Robb's neck to keep himself under control. Suddenly he thinks of the Iron Islands, his family back home, and wonders what they would think of this for absolutely no fucking reason whatsoever.
Well I've fucked over more Starks than they ever will, he thinks. Namely two. Or one and a half.
Robb is fucking himself on Theon desperately, legs twitching with the effort as he licks Snow's come from his bottom lip. “Theon,” he begs around Theon's fingers.
Theon can't help himself; with his free hand he pulls Robb's head back and kisses him, desperately, biting and bruising his lips. He can taste Snow's come and knows it's smearing all over his face too, but he cannot bring himself to care right now (or maybe he does care, just not how he'd like to). Robb moans into his mouth and Theon wonders what he's done with his own spit-soaked fingers. He discovers soon enough, finds them pressed right against his prick, one spreading Robb's hole open just that little bit further.
What am I doing? he wonders. He knows this is a bad idea. There's a reason that, despite the fact Robb loves having two cocks in his arse at once, they don't do it very often. Namely, Robb loves it too much, and the first time they tried he screamed so loud Lady Catelyn came to knock on the door, asking if he was alright. It would have been hilarious if not for how aware Theon was that, if Robb's flustered denials couldn't make her go away, he could well get his head chopped off. She did go away, that night, but since then they've always been careful. Theon's not very good at careful. He looks to Jon, who usually stops him when he's about to do something stupid – when it involves Robb, anyway. But this time, Snow doesn't say anything. His cock is soft but his eyes are still dark with lust, and he just watches as Theon pries Robb open.
Theon considers that reason enough to blame him if this all goes wrong.
“Oh god, Theon, fuck, yes,” Robb moans as Theon breaches him, and Jon quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. Oh, now you do something, Theon thinks but it's hard to hold a grudge, not with Robb shuddering like that around him. Robb and Jon share a look, warm and soft, as Theon fucks into Robb, and he gets oddly jealous. He wants Robb and his river-blue eyes to look at him like that. He doesn't, he can't really turn at the moment, but Jon does and it does make Theon feel better.
Perhaps I am overthinking this. If he told Snow that, he would laugh, and say he didn't think Theon ever thought about anything at all.
Theon picks up his pace, bouncing Robb on his prick quickly, though not as quickly as he did before. Then he decides to add a second finger, and Robb moans and starts fucking himself quicker, clenching tight around Theon.
“You like that, Robb?” he asks, scissoring his fingers to spread him wider. Robb moans and pulls back from Jon's hand.
“More, Theon.”
Theon chuckles in his ear, his other hand wrapping back around Robb's prick, his thumb pushing his cheeks apart as far as he can (which isn't far). “Always more with you, isn't it?” he whispers. “Fucking insatiable. Sometimes I think you take us for granted, lordling.” Maybe he means it more than he should. “You wouldn't know what to do without us, would you? Without our cocks. We're the only ones who know. That the heir to Winterfell is just a desperate, needy, greedy, filthy slut–”
Theon never gets to add 'more', to use his third finger, because Robb cries out and clenches tight and comes that moment. Theon fucks him through it, but slowly now, easing him down. He can't help but kiss Robb on the neck for reasons he can't quite explain. Softly, Jon threads a hand back through Robb's hair, petting him like a pup, and Robb leans into it with a gentle moan.
Fuck, I love you, thinks Theon. We love you, you little whore.
Theon slowly pulls his fingers out, but when he tries to lift Robb off his cock Robb grabs his thigh so tight he thinks it might bruise. “Don't you dare,” he says, warning – but somehow there's laughter in his voice. “You promised you'd come inside me.”
He looks to Snow, who just shrugs at him. He's gotten half-hard again however, which somewhat undermines his nonchalance. This could not be over for awhile yet. Theon thinks for a second, smiles, and pulls Robb tight against him.
It doesn't take long. He fucks Robb as roughly as he dares, cock pulsing as he hears him moan through the aftershocks, but he doesn't talk anymore. When he comes he bites Robb's skin to smother the noise. I lasted longer than I expected to, he thinks with satisfaction, and longer than either of them.
Robb sighs when Theon finally stills against him, and Theon wants to hold him close while he gets his breath back, but before he knows it Robb is gone, dropping to his side on the bed. Snow smiles as he follows, wrapping himself around his brother's back, kissing over bitemarks Theon left.
“You shouldn't just lie about like that,” Jon mumurs in his brother's ear. “If you don't want someone to have another go with you.”
“How do you know that's not exactly what I want?”
“I bet it is,” says Snow, almost smirking as Theon finally moves, laying at Robb's other side, face to face. “But we'll be late for dinner.”
“We can be late for dinner.”
This bickering is what Theon does, he should be part of their conversation, but he just can't think of anything to say right now. So instead he wears his usual smug grin, and reaches out with one hand, running his fingers through Robb's sweat-soaked curls. Robb opens one eye, peering at him curiously, and then smiles. Theon smiles back, for real this time.
Robb yawns. “Gods, I need a nap.”
Theon laughs. “Think we wore him out, Snow.”
Snow raises an eyebrow, but he's almost smiling as well (it is hard to tell with him). “I'm not sure you can wear him out, really.”
“Well we'll just have to find out.” Theon expects Robb to say something, but he doesn't, and Theon soon realises its because he's fallen asleep. He sighs, running his hand through Robb's hair again. Jon moves his hand to do the same, and their fingers brush against one another. Neither of them moves. It's nice.
“You know, for an insatiable cum-drenched slut,” Theon drawls, “he's very cute.”
Snow laughs, really genuinely laughs, but then just looks at Theon. Suddenly Theon remembers it's not just Robb's face that Jon's come is drying on. He remembers Snow's prick was half-hard last time he saw it. “You shouldn't be so smug, Theon,” he says. “It'll be your night soon enough.”
Theon doesn't know what to say to that. So he doesn't say anything; he pretends to be asleep, pretends the thought doesn't make his cock twitch against Robb's hip, pretends it doesn't make him want to go take care of Jon's hard prick himself.