hidden underneath

Robb knows he shouldn't kiss Jon right now, not this close to supper, not when so many men are still milling around in the yard, but they are all alone in the armory, nothing but dust and shadows and Theon's voice outside the window, and Jon smiles when Robb's hand slides over his hip, his head tilting as his beautiful mouth curves at the corners, his eyes narrowing as if he is daring Robb to do it. Robb nudges Jon back against a barrel full of practice swords; he pushes his tongue into Jon's mouth and curls his fingers in Jon's hair, kisses Jon until Jon's arm wraps around his waist and Jon's thigh works between his, until they are both making soft, urgent noises that echo sharply in the stillness.