Lucky for both Jon felt absolutely no desire to voice contrary demands beyond a wriggle and a whinge for first of the day's kisses. Lip to lip, soundtrack a vibrating harumm of mouth caressing where fingers and arms were not allowed, Jon took what Robb willingly bestowed. Be it a nip to inner thigh, peck to the bearded under chin or another slow swipe of wickedly devious tongue from bollocks to glans and felt delightfully light-headed in the process.
"Tell me we're having sausage," goaded between the end of a kiss and an attempt to roll hips into lover's. Any sort of contact allowed sought with all the squirming joy of a child told, "You best well sit still or no pudding for you, young man!" He couldn't help himself - technically didn't have to even try unless otherwise instructed - bairn tendencies to cling and nuzzle, seek out the warmest parts of his boyfriend in the crook of neck and shoulder driving Jon to pull against the cordings and delight in his restriction.
One curiosity, however, ate away at grey matter inside inky black skull. A mouse nibbling holes in the pantry's best Gouda till it more closely resembled a rind of Swiss cheese; plot full of holes overworked mind needed to fill before moving forward with the plan.
"Darling? Not fuss-" words cut short by a particularly ticklish visit to the hollow jut of hip, Jon well forgot the rest of his sentence for a time.
That ruddy cocktease! Painting a masterpiece only he could see into Jon's very flesh, brushes of teeth and silky lips, wet tongue and coarsest beard hairs made manly soft by meticulous grooming habits capturing subject's true likeness with the most skilled sweep and dab motions. Difficult to remember his own name under such ministrations let alone the question still lingering.
Jon was but a proper suck away from earthy eyes rolling back like the grave, two finger salute and a "Sod it all!" in favour of enjoying whatever naughtiness waited for him in the confines of Scotsman's clever mouth when Robb stopped altogether. Raised a brow on that lovable face more expressive than Disney's most detailed animations and simply waited.
You fucking prick, Christ but I love what you do to me...
Lifting his head to make eye contact, Jon sluggishly finished, "Just wondering when in the world you found time to install anchor points... and if I should be mindful of how much I pull on them?"