He will

Jon let the weight of their stares settle over him, the chamber's air thick with jasmine and sweat, the hearth's crackle a distant underscore to the pounding in his chest.

He nodded once, slow and deliberate.

"I'll do it," he said, voice steady. "If Sandra is pregnant I'll be Jocelyn's Sworn Shield." Jon stated carefully not to trigger his power.

At his words Jocelyn's green, emeraldlike eyes flared bright, a high squeal bursting from her throat as she lunged across the twisted sheets, silk sliding under her knees, her gown riding high to expose the pale stretch of her thighs.

She slammed into Jon chest-first, fingers splaying wide across his cheeks to tilt his head back, her mouth crashing down on his with raw ****—lips parting wide, tongue thrusting in deep to sweep against his, carrying the sticky tang of honeyed wine and the sharp bite of her impatience.

Hot and rapid, breaths escaped through her nostrils, mingling with Jon's as Jocelyn sucked at his lower lip, teeth grazing just hard enough to sting, her body grinding close with restless twists that rubbed her soft breasts against his tunic, nipples stiffening through the thin fabric into points that dragged like sparks on kindling.

Hips rocked forward in short, urgent presses, Jocelyn's thighs clamping around his waist to pull him tighter, the heat between her legs radiating through layers of cloth as she whimpered into the kiss, tongue curling insistent around his, chasing every taste with greedy flicks.

Jaime and Tyra moved in unison, Jaime's strong fingers hooking under Jocelyn's arms with unyielding grip, Tyra grabbing her waist with a firm tug that lifted her slightly off Jon's lap.

They hauled her back in a swift, coordinated pull, Jocelyn's lips parting from his with a wet pop that left a glistening thread of saliva snapping between them, her breath coming in frustrated pants as she reached out futilely, fingers clawing at empty air toward Jon's face.

She twisted in their hold, cheeks flushed crimson, eyes flashing with defiant fire as she kicked her legs once, gown tangling around her thighs.

"But Mother—" she started, voice pitching high and insistent, "he's already—why can't I? It's not fair! If he's to be my shield, I should—"

Cersei's voice cut through like a whip's crack, sharp and maternal, her perky breasts still heaving slightly as she sat up straighter, golden hair tumbling wild over her shoulders.

"Enough, Jocelyn," she said, eyes narrowing to slits that pinned her daughter in place. "Jon can't be your sworn shield if he deflowers you. Be patient—wait until you're wed. You'll have him soon enough. Argue again, and you'll spend the night in your own chambers alone."

Jocelyn's mouth opened for another protest, her body straining against Jaime's hold, but Jaime tightened her grip, leaning in close with a low, teasing murmur against her ear.

"Listen to your mother, little lioness," she said, voice laced with amusement but edged in steel. "You're playing with fire you don't understand yet. Push it, and you'll burn alone tonight."

Tyra's hand stayed firm on Jocelyn's waist, her mismatched eyes gleaming as she added her own quiet rebuke, platinum waves brushing Jocelyn's shoulder.

"Patience suits a princess," she said softly, but with a firmness that brooked no backtalk. "You'll get your turn when it's right. For now, sit down and behave—or we'll make sure you do."

Jocelyn huffed again, her flushed cheeks darkening further, but the combined weight of their stares and holds drained the fight from her.

She slumped back onto the silks with a frustrated whine, arms crossing over her chest as she shot Jon a longing, burning glance, her pout deepening into something almost sulky.

Jon shifted above the silks, the power humming low in his veins.

"None will look twice or think on it," he murmured, the words weaving outward like smoke, "me—a bastard of the Warden of the North—being sworn shield to a princess. No questions, no whispers. It's as natural as the direwolf on Stark banners."

The air rippled faintly, the command taking root.

Tyra and Jaime exchanged a glance, their nude forms glowing in the firelight, then closed in on him like lionesses circling prey.

Tyra moved first, her platinum waves cascading over one shoulder as she leaned in, full breasts brushing Jon's arm with a soft, teasing weight.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him close, and her lips captured his in a slow, deep press—plush and yielding at first, then parting to let her tongue slip inside, exploring with clever, darting strokes that tasted of sweet wine and mischief, drawing a low groan from deep in his throat as her free hand slid down his chest, nails grazing skin through fabric.

The kiss deepened, her body arching against him, hips grinding subtly as her breath quickened, nipples hardening against his tunic in firm points that begged for touch.

Jaime pressed in from his other side, her lithe frame warm and insistent, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other traced the line of his jaw.

She waited until Tyra pulled back for air, then claimed Jon's mouth with her own—lips firm and demanding, tongue thrusting in with a warrior's boldness, tasting of salt and steel, her teeth nipping his lower lip hard enough to sting as she sucked it between hers.

Tyra didn't retreat; her mouth found Jon's neck, hot and open kisses trailing down to his collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the sweat there while her fingers worked at his belt, tugging it loose with urgent pulls.

In turn the kiss from Jaime turned fiercer, her body pressed up against his side, thigh slipping between his legs to press against his growing hardness, rubbing slow and deliberate as her free hand roamed his chest, pinching a nipple through the cloth until he gasped into her mouth.

The two sisters worked in tandem now, Tyra's lips moving lower to nip at his throat while Jaime tilted his head back, her tongue tangling with his in a breathless duel, wet and slick, her breaths coming in hot pants against his skin.

Tyra's hand dipped inside his breeches, wrapping around him with a firm stroke that made his hips buck, her full breasts pressing into his arm as she whispered something low and filthy against his ear, her voice a husky purr that sent shivers racing down his spine.

Jaime broke the kiss only to let Tyra claim his mouth again, their bodies sandwiching him, hands and lips everywhere—Tyra's fingers pumping slow and teasing, Jaime's nails raking down his back as she ground against his thigh, the room filling with their shared moans and the wet sounds of kisses that grew hungrier, more **** with each passing breath.

Jaime broke away with a gasp, her green eyes dark with hunger as she pushed Jon down onto the bed, her palms flat against his chest shoving with insistent **** that sank him into the silks.

The mattress dipped under his weight, and Jaime swung a leg over his head in one fluid motion, her lithe thighs framing his face as she straddled him, knees sinking deep into the pillows on either side.

Her slick folds hovered just above his mouth, the musky scent of her arousal—rich and heady, like earth after rain mixed with the sharp tang of desire—filling his nostrils, making his pulse thunder in his ears.

Jon gripped her thighs, fingers digging into the firm muscle that quivered under his touch, pulling her down until her heat pressed flush against his lips, her wetness coating his chin in a warm glide.

His tongue delved in without hesitation, lapping at her core with firm, broad strokes that parted her folds, tasting the salty-sweet essence of her as she ground against him, hips rolling in slow, demanding circles.

Jaime's moans spilled from her lips like wine from a tipped goblet, low and throaty at first, building to sharper cries as his mouth worked her, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud that made her thighs clamp tighter around his head, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place.

Tyra straddled his hips below, her platinum waves cascading over her shoulders as she positioned herself above him, full breasts bouncing with the shift of her weight, nipples hardened to pink peaks that begged for attention.

She sank down slowly at first, guiding him with one hand, her walls stretching tight around him in a velvet grip that drew a muffled groan from Jon's throat, the vibration humming against Jaime's core and pulling a gasp from her.

Tyra's throaty sigh filled the air as she took him inch by inch, her mismatched eyes locking on his face, green and black depths burning with possession.

Then she began to ride—hips rolling in deep, rhythmic circles that ground her down onto him, her walls clenching tight around his length with each upward lift, drawing guttural grunts from his chest that vibrated up through Jaime, making her buck harder against his tongue.

Tyra's pace quickened, her full breasts heaving with every pounding thrust, hands bracing on his chest for leverage as she slammed down, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room, her moans mingling with Jaime's cries in a symphony of raw need.

Sweat glistened on Tyra's skin, trickling between her breasts as she leaned forward, her platinum hair falling like a curtain around them, hips snapping faster, walls fluttering in greedy pulses that milked him relentlessly.

Jaime's thighs trembled around Jon's head, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair as his tongue circled her swollen bud, sucking gently then harder, the musky flood of her arousal coating his mouth as she chased release, grinding down with **** rolls that smeared her wetness across his cheeks.

Tyra's rhythm turned frantic below, her nails raking red lines down his chest as she rode him harder, the bed creaking under the ****, her mismatched eyes half-lidded in ecstasy as she gasped his name between moans.

The heat built to a fever, Jon's hands gripping Jaime's thighs harder, fingers digging into the firm, sweat-slick muscle as her hips bucked wildly against his face, her slick folds grinding down with **** urgency, coating his chin and cheeks in her arousal's hot, musky glaze.

His tongue thrust deep into her, curling and lapping with relentless pressure, circling her swollen pearl in tight, teasing swirls that made her body seize, thighs clamping around his head like a vice, her sharp cries piercing the air in ragged bursts—"Gods, Jon, there, right there!"—her back arching off the bed as release tore through her in shuddering waves, her walls pulsing against his mouth, flooding him with a gush of sweetness that he drank down greedily, her nails raking his scalp until stars burst behind his eyes.

Below, Tyra's pounding rhythm turned frantic, her hips slamming down with bruising ****, full breasts heaving and bouncing as her walls clenched in vice-like waves around him, pulling him deeper with each drop, the wet slap of skin echoing louder amid the bed's creaking protests.

Her low groans built to throaty roars, mismatched eyes locking on his as she ground harder, chasing the edge—"Fill me, Jon, give it all"—until Jon shattered with a guttural growl muffled against Jaime's quivering core, release exploding through him in thick, relentless pulses, spilling deep into Tyra's clutching heat, flooding her womb in hot, endless waves that made her cry out in triumph, her body convulsing around him, milking every drop as her own climax crashed over her in trembling spasms, nails digging red crescents into his chest.

The room filled with their shared moans and cries, sweat-slicked bodies tangling in a fevered heap of shudders and gasps, the air thick with the scent of release as they collapsed together, breaths ragged and intertwined.

Jon eased Tyra off him with a firm push, her body still trembling in the aftershocks, sweat-slicked thighs sliding from his as she collapsed beside him with a satisfied sigh.

He turned to Jaime, her lithe form arched and quivering from the climax his tongue had just wrung from her, storm-green eyes half-lidded in bliss, lips parted on ragged breaths as her fingers loosened from his hair.

Not done yet, Jon gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back in one swift motion, the silks bunching under her as she landed with a gasp, thighs spreading wide in invitation.

Without pausing Jon plunged into her, the slick heat of Jaime's womanhood enveloping him in a tight, welcoming grip that drew a sharp cry from her throat, her nails raking down his arms in delight.

Jon thrust forward, hips crashing against hers in a savage rhythm, the slap of sweat-slicked skin ringing sharp through the chamber like repeated thunderclaps.

Each drive buried him to the hilt, Jaiem's body bucking beneath him in jolts that sent tremors rippling through her limbs, the bed's wooden frame creaking in protest under the relentless pounding, joints straining as if ready to splinter.

With every thrust, Jaime's breast also heaved, full and flushed, bouncing wildly in erratic arcs that drew his gaze, nipples hardening to tight, rosy peaks scraping against the air, swollen and sensitive from the constant friction of their bodies grinding together.

Jaime's cries ripped from her throat in raw, animal bursts, her legs coiling around his waist like vines in a storm, heels gouging into his back as she yanked him deeper, her hips snapping up to clash against each brutal thrust with a **** that sent shocks rippling through their joined bodies, her slick inner walls fluttering and squeezing in frantic, pulsing waves that gripped him like a velvet trap, drawing out every inch of pleasure with merciless tugs.

Sweat flung from their glistening skin in fine sprays, catching the firelight like scattered jewels, her fingers scrabbling first at the twisted sheets in **** fists before raking up to his shoulders, nails carving hot, stinging trails that bloomed red and throbbed with sweet fire, her mouth gaping wide in a torrent of gasped pleas—"Harder, Seven, fuck me harder!"—as her spine bowed off the bed in a taut arc, thighs trembling with the mounting quake, muscles clenching and releasing in feverish spasms that promised the edge was near.

Encouraged by her pleas, Jon surged forward with savage intensity, his hips slamming against hers in a punishing rhythm that shook the bedframe, each drive burying him deeper with a **** that drew guttural growls from her throat.

His hands locked around Jaime's wrists, slamming them above her head against the headboard, fingers digging into her skin as he held her captive, her arms stretched taut and trembling.

His mouth crushed down on hers in a bruising clash, lips parting hers wide to let his tongue plunge inside, tangling with hers in a slick, heated battle—wet and frantic, saliva mingling as he swallowed her moans, turning them into muffled vibrations against his teeth while he thrust harder, faster, the sharp slap of sweat-drenched flesh reverberating through the chamber like rhythmic thunderclaps.

Jaime's body arched like a bowstring pulled to breaking, a raw scream ripping from her chest as ecstasy shattered through her, limbs convulsing in violent tremors that made her thighs quake around his waist.

Her walls clamped down in iron spasms, pulsing around him with merciless grips that squeezed and released in waves, nearly yanking his own climax from him in hot, urgent pulls, her nails gouging deep into his palms until blood welled in stinging crescents.

Tears of overwhelming pleasure streaked her flushed cheeks, hips grinding up in ****, circling rolls to chase every lingering spark, her slick heat flooding around him until the peak ebbed, leaving her slumping back into the silks, body limp and quivering in exhausted surrender.

Jon pulled back, breaths heaving, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Della standing dutiful at the door, her armoured form rigid in the firelight, but her modest face flushed deep crimson, eyes wide and fixed on him with unspoken hunger. While he might not have had Jocelyn, will he have Della?