Que Sera, Sera (random fics)

[Juno]

15 minutes. Long enough to smoke a cigarette. Long enough to guzzle down lukewarm coffee. By his calculations, long enough to achieve a mind-blowing orgasm.

And Brady never miscalculated.

The past nine and a half minutes had been devoted to a dance as old as time but Brady didn't feel very graceful. On the contrary, lodged against the nearest wall with the sharp edge of a wooden desk digging into his clutching palms, he felt and looked rather undignified.

Still... It had been nine minutes of carnal heaven and they still had six minutes to spare.

Time was precious and reasoning was something he abhorred during these trysts. Every time his mountain of a boyfriend dared to utter any words beyond 'yes', Brady made sure to shut him up right quick. They had no time for words. Not really. They only had time for each other and fortunately, that time involved sex at its grittiest.

Gabe was really giving it to him now. Even amidst his helpless pleasure and frequent mewling, Brady had the sense to take note of his boyfriend's behaviour. The harder he pounded, the closer he got and right about now, Brady was almost certain his arse cheeks were red and raw.

It wasn't Brady's observations and astuteness that allowed them to continue without anyone being the wiser. Oh no. He owed some credit to Gabe who had likely been studying Brady as well and could accurately predict whenever he needed his mouth occupied. He had been swallowing moans and silencing cries with his lips for weeks and it both delighted and infuriated Brady.

12 minutes in and Gabe was applying a firmer grip to Brady's skinny thighs. He held him in place with a bruising sincerity, somehow finding it within himself to hold his gaze and keep it. Even here in a cramped office of some precinct that was long overdue in purchasing new furniture, Gabe managed to take him away from it all. Somewhere between the three remaining minutes, he always lost himself in the stormy blue-grey of his boyfriend's irises.

He was close. They were both close. Gabe was hammering away at his prostate with maddening precision, making his cock jump with every thrust. They were sweating, Gabe's grip slipping on the slick skin but he wouldn't let anything deter him. Brady was watching him, studying every microexpression he could.

His head was beginning to feel too heavy for his neck to support, though he wasn't granted the opportunity to allow it to lull back. Gabe was doing that freaky mind-reading thing that he had clearly learned from hours spent by Brady's side. Or so he haughtily liked to think, if he could think at all with his boyfriend's strong, knowing fingers curling around the back of his damp neck.

His hold was both gentle and rough and Brady was finding it harder and harder to bite back the moans that demanded to slip through his quivering lips. As if on cue, Gabe was pulling him in for a demanding, deep, grunt-filled kiss. The movement of his hips was a blur before his eyes closed.

This was it. He could let go.

"Mmmph...!" And just like that, Brady came in white, hot bursts, splattering come all over his flat stomach.

Gabe almost never had to jerk him off to get him to come. What a bitch.

The detective wasn't too far behind. He kept his lips locked with Brady's and it took a few more erratic jerks of his hips before he went rigid and hummed something unintelligible against their joint mouths, emptying himself into the condom he wore.

14 minutes.

Brady felt him pull out and winced at the slight pain it caused. He always hated this part the most. The thought of having to move at all after such great physical exertion was taxing but Gabe was also responsible along with being a ridiculously good lay. He only bothered to open his eyes when he felt the familiar sensation of tissue swiping over his stomach.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Yes. His darling lover even cleaned up after him. How perfectly adorable. It took a good 10 seconds but soon enough, he was being hauled up onto his feet. As expected, his legs felt like jelly but it was difficult to worry when one had something solid to fall back on. Pulling his pants up was something he had to do on his own.

Can't spoil you, Gabe had once said with this awful parental air about him. Brady could only wonder why.

Becoming presentable was more of an issue for Gabe. Frankly, Brady didn't give a toss but by the time they were all tucked in, he was the only one who showed any signs of rule-breaking. Perhaps this level of skill came with practice. He didn't care to learn himself but he found himself casting an admiring look at his nearly immaculate boyfriend all the same.

Brady glanced at the clock.

15 minutes.

He made sure to pat Gabe's ass on the way out.

 

[Juno]

"La Belle Bête. The beautiful...?"

"Beast."

Ben quirked a brow, eyeing his roommate curiously. "Oh yeah?"

Brady nodded, his blond hair falling forward and curtaining his face as per usual. For once Ben, didn't feel compelled to look away. There was something significant about that title. It stuck in his head and refused to let out until he explored the possibilities of those three foreign words.

The beautiful. Well, that made sense. He hadn't seen anything so unconventionally beautiful in his entire life. Brady had the most confusingly lovely face. It was difficult to assign him a gender. He seemed almost genderless at times and devoid of earthly bindings. He was surreal in a sense. Or so Ben thought every time he dwelled on his roommate's fantastical appearance. He really was a fairy.

"You're staring at me, Benny."

"I know," Ben admitted, not bothering to play the defense card. What use was it to lie to a truth wizard?

"I'm happy to hear that you can differentiate between accusations and observations."

"There wasn't anything accusatory about your tone," Ben concluded, pausing to think a moment, "At least, I don't think. You're hard to read."

Brady glanced up from what he was reading. The corner of his lips were twitching in what Ben recognized as the 'almost-smile'.

"The book reminds me of you."

"You haven't even read it."

"The title, I mean. It reminds me of you."

Brady snorted, his nostrils flaring. Whether it was annoyance or amusement, Ben couldn't tell. Either way, it made the fairy look spectacularly mischievous. Ben was reminded of a Midsummer Night's Dream. Brady could be likened to someone like Puck. He really could.

"The novel is an allegory for French society in the 60s."

"Don't ruin this for me."

"You're not even gonna read it."

"That!" Ben pointed, a grin spreading across his face, "Now that was an accusatory tone."

"You're funny," Brady concluded, returning his gaze to the abandoned text.

Ben shifted restlessly on the couch. He was no closer to finishing his essay than he had been an hour ago but as expected, Brady had once again succeeded in distracting him. He couldn't really complain.

"Don't you wanna know why the title reminds me of you?"

"Not particularly."

Damn it. Honesty. Ben hated Brady's honesty sometimes! He needed to learn to filter from time to time. If only to spare feelings. Though, who was he kidding? This was Brady. That blatant honesty was also one of the main reasons why he liked the blond so much.

"Well, I'm gonna tell you."

"I have no doubt."

Ben sighed, briefly removing his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. "Well, you're beautiful, obviously."

"Obviously," Brady annunciated, as if he were having a hard time dealing with the veracity of that single word.

"Yeah, obviously," Ben continued, a tad impatiently, "But you're also bestial."

This seemed to catch the blond's attention as he was once again forced to look up from his work. "How so?"

"Look at you, dude. You're like a wild nymph who runs through the woods at night, wreaking mischief here and there."

Brady dropped his pen, swiping a tongue over the corner of his mouth. "Okay, okay. So... did you seriously just call me a nymph?"

Ben laughed, getting far too much enjoyment out of this offhand conversation. "Seriously. It's like, when you look at a painting and or read an older play, especially from the Elizabethan era...it's like you just poofed into our time. But then you open your mouth and the illusion's gone."

"It's 'cause I'm Scandinavian, right?"

"Probably." It was his turn to be honest. "But, that's not a bad thing. You're... La Belle Bête."

Brady said nothing and Ben took that as a cue to keep quiet. He found it much easier to focus on the essay this time around.

 

[Jess]

Juno, bravo on these teasers. Do you have stories posted somewhere? I'd love the links, if so.

 

[Juno]

Aw thanks. :3 Unfortunately I don't. I just write random scenes about my original rp characters when I feel inspired lol :B

 

[Juno]

Random Smut Is So Random​

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God..."

"Tsk. Quit using the lord's name in vain, you naughty boy."

Brady bit down hard on his knuckles for the hundredth time all in the span of a few minutes. There were several teeth marks over the fair skin but he payed it no mind. He was sprawled rather messily on his single bed, looking quite undignified with his legs hoisted up in the air and his toes straining and cracking with every curl.

There was a hot, wet tongue currently probing at his arsehole and it was slowly but surely driving him insane. Ben had been at it for a while now. The onslaught was unbearable and his technique was deadly. Ben had done it all. He had licked him and sucked him and tongue fucked him stupid till he was left a blubbering, pleading mess. He'd never known the guy was that good.

"Beeeeen, uuungh..."

The only response he received was the obscene smack sound of lips attaching to his anus and refusing to release him. He dared to lift his head to get a proper look and almost regretted the decision. Ben was... He was making out with his ass!

Brady moaned helplessly, his flushed head falling back against the pillow as he lifted his hips, instinctively driving his arse into that maddening mouth.

Ben paused a moment, holding fast to the blond's thighs as he smirked an uncharacteristic smug smirk. "You look so damn good right now, you know that? All hot and flustered. Beg me some more, Brady. I love it when you beg."

Brady groaned and grabbed at his roommate's hair, giving it a vicious tug. "Fucker," he hissed, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. His back was arching off the mattress repeatedly and it didn't help that he could once again feel that god awful tongue sliding inside. It felt wet and filthy but so very good.

Ben smoothed his palms down the silken calves, licking and biting at the soft skin of the blond's inner thighs. "So pale," he murmured, "Perfect for marking."

"Ben," he panted, refusing to let go of him as he licked over his pink lips, suddenly feeling extremely parched. He could actually feel the guy's spit oozing out of his ass and it was driving him crazy. "I'm gonna come if you don't stop."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a challenging tone, "I don't think you do, Brady. I think you want me to rim your ass till you come hard. Isn't that right?"

Brady said nothing. He didn't have to. The rising of his hips coupled with the desperate look in his eyes said it all. No. He didn't want him to stop. He didn't want this to ever stop.

"Ben...! Ben, oh God Beeeeen!"

"Ben?"

Ben blinked, trying to locate the source of the interruption. Sure enough, his gaze fell upon the object of his intense sexual frustration. He swallowed, thankful for the cushion currently hiding his raging erection. He couldn't say the same for his face.

"Yeah?"

Brady smiled, hair falling forward just in time to conceal an adorable dimple. "Jeez, where the hell do you always go?"

Ben licked his lips, swallowing the sudden dryness in his throat as he dared a glance at his roommate's tiny rear end. "Oh, not far."

 

[Juno]

[Random excerpt I never bothered to finish. Yes, I'm aware it starts in the middle. .___.]

The halls of the house are quite wide, he notices for the first time. They're wide and nicely furnished because Catelyn won't have it any other way and the Starks have always had money to spend on such trivialities. He's not a Stark. Not really. But Jon doesn't have time to brood over his parentage because Brady's golden head is coming into view. When he stops in front of him, there's no hugging or kissing. It's a mutual agreement between them to lay low until they're really alone. Jon can get very creative but tonight he just wants some action really bad and Brady doesn't even have to ask because it's not long before they find themselves in a walk in closet, door locked securely behind them.

Jon wants a blowjob really bad. For months now he's been wanking hard to the thought of how his boyfriend's mouth fits around him like a perfect little glove. His mouth is hot and accommodating and very good at bringing him to mind-numbing release if he remembers well. He'll fuck him too, this is certain. He'll fuck him all night long and then again in the morning and as many times as he wants after that.

Brady isn't the kind to just drop to his knees without a second thought and in spite of how hard he already is, he admires that about him. Brady is a constant reminder that this is the longest relationship he's been in and he intends to keep it for as long as he can. He's only 17 but when he looks into those blue eyes, forever isn't so scary a thought after all.

Brady touches his lips to Jon's for a second and whispers out in a voice that Jon has fantasized about on far too many sleepless nights.

"I missed you, Jonny."

Jon swallows and nods. He doesn't feel awkward or tense, well, at least not where it matters. "I missed you too." He doesn't even care that Brady called him Jonny. He's too horny to care.

There isn't more to be said. Not yet, in any case. They are young and some things take precedent over others, sex being one of them.

The blond's lips are like velvet and his touch is as hauntingly gentle as Jon remembers. When Brady works down his torso to his very obvious bulge, Jon's zipping his lips because Catelyn has got impeccable hearing and he doesn't fancy having his little piece of heaven interrupted by the bitter harpy.

Brady holds him delicately in his hand but there's nothing delicate about his mouth-work. The guy's pretty messy with the oral and Jon's got to admit, his cock sliding in and out of Blondie's mouth is the most obscene sight he's ever witnessed. The sight of Brady sucking him off is like something out of his more erotic fantasies and that coupled with the sounds of his dutiful slurping has Jon planting his hand firmly against the wall before his knees give in. He almost wants to look away but he has learned quickly that sometimes it just isn't possible.

He knows full-well how he tastes after the result of boyish curiosity and often ponders how Brady likes it. If he doesn't, he's kept that to himself and Jon couldn't be anymore grateful. Brady has a habit of making him feel like a real catch. It's love, he realises, not for the first time. Jon loves him too. He can't really help himself.

When he comes, it's a muffled sort of groan that doesn't go very far but the indents of teeth on his knuckles do. And pretty soon he's sprawled over a carpeted floor with six inches of circumcised goodness in place. Jon doesn't consider himself a pro at cock sucking so the act in itself is rare but each time he gets a look at his significant other, he's reminded of just why the heck he bothers.

Brady is a vision with his flushed cheeks and rosy lips, always semi-parted to let forth sounds that make Jon want to dirty his boxers. When Brady is finished, Jon swallows but doesn't move. He rests his stubbled chin on the boy's naked stomach and begins tracing the tip of his tongue around an adorable belly button. Brady likes it when he doesn't shave. He says the extra hair makes him look sexy but Jon has the nagging suspicion that he just wants to add on the years. People are often fond of reminding him that he looks about 12 years old on a good day.

Jon hums a nameless tune and blows gently against the damp skin of his boyfriend's stomach. He can't see it but he knows Brady is smiling in that usual calm manner that far exceeds his years. It's something they have in common, he knows. Boyish and lost one moment and wise and troubled the next. It's in the eyes. They both have expressive eyes.

"We still up for that dinner date, Jonny?"

Jon doesn't respond right away. He's too busy doing nothing at all. It's a strange thing for him to be lying in such cramped quarters, sticky and languid but he figures this is the best it'll get for him and he's okay with that. Nay, he loves that. He has come home and right now, home is where he wants to be.

So Jon presses a kiss to Brady's stomach and smiles a rare smile. "Nah. We're fine where we are."

 

[Snow Danger]

this is the best

 

[Juno]

The halls of the house are quite wide, he notices for the first time. They're wide and nicely furnished because Catelyn won't have it any other way and the Starks have always had money to spend on such trivialities. He's not a Stark. Not really. But Jon doesn't have time to brood over his parentage because Brady's golden head is coming into view. When he stops in front of him, there's no hugging or kissing. It's a mutual agreement between them to lay low until they're really alone. Jon can get very creative but tonight he just wants some action really bad and Brady doesn't even have to ask because it's not long before they find themselves in a walk in closet, door locked securely behind them.

Jon wants a blowjob really bad. For months now he's been wanking hard to the thought of how his boyfriend's mouth fits around him like a perfect little glove. His mouth is hot and accommodating and very good at bringing him to mind-numbing release if he remembers well. He'll fuck him too, this is certain. He'll fuck him all night long and then again in the morning and as many times as he wants after that.

Brady isn't the kind to just drop to his knees without a second thought and in spite of how hard he already is, he admires that about him. Brady is a constant reminder that this is the longest relationship he's been in and he intends to keep it for as long as he can. He's only 17 but when he looks into those blue eyes, forever isn't so scary a thought after all.

Brady touches his lips to Jon's for a second and whispers out in a voice that Jon has fantasized about on far too many sleepless nights.

"I missed you, Jonny."

Jon swallows and nods. He doesn't feel awkward or tense, well, at least not where it matters. "I missed you too." He doesn't even care that Brady called him Jonny. He's too horny to care.

There isn't more to be said. Not yet, in any case. They are young and some things take precedent over others, sex being one of them.

The blond's lips are like velvet and his touch is as hauntingly gentle as Jon remembers. When Brady works down his torso to his very obvious bulge, Jon's zipping his lips because Catelyn has got impeccable hearing and he doesn't fancy having his little piece of heaven interrupted by the bitter harpy.

Brady holds him delicately in his hand but there's nothing delicate about his mouth-work. The guy's pretty messy with the oral and Jon's got to admit, his cock sliding in and out of Blondie's mouth is the most obscene sight he's ever witnessed. The sight of Brady sucking him off is like something out of his more erotic fantasies and that coupled with the sounds of his dutiful slurping has Jon planting his hand firmly against the wall before his knees give in. He almost wants to look away but he has learned quickly that sometimes it just isn't possible.

He knows full-well how he tastes after the result of boyish curiosity and often ponders how Brady likes it. If he doesn't, he's kept that to himself and Jon couldn't be anymore grateful. Brady has a habit of making him feel like a real catch. It's love, he realises, not for the first time. Jon loves him too. He can't really help himself.

When he comes, it's a muffled sort of groan that doesn't go very far but the indents of teeth on his knuckles do. And pretty soon he's sprawled over a carpeted floor with six inches of circumcised goodness in place. Jon doesn't consider himself a pro at cock sucking so the act in itself is rare but each time he gets a look at his significant other, he's reminded of just why the heck he bothers.

Brady is a vision with his flushed cheeks and rosy lips, always semi-parted to let forth sounds that make Jon want to dirty his boxers. When Brady is finished, Jon swallows but doesn't move. He rests his stubbled chin on the boy's naked stomach and begins tracing the tip of his tongue around an adorable belly button. Brady likes it when he doesn't shave. He says the extra hair makes him look sexy but Jon has the nagging suspicion that he just wants to add on the years. People are often fond of reminding him that he looks about 12 years old on a good day.

Jon hums a nameless tune and blows gently against the damp skin of his boyfriend's stomach. He can't see it but he knows Brady is smiling in that usual calm manner that far exceeds his years. It's something they have in common, he knows. Boyish and lost one moment and wise and troubled the next. It's in the eyes. They both have expressive eyes.

"We still up for that dinner date, Jonny?"

Jon doesn't respond right away. He's too busy doing nothing at all. It's a strange thing for him to be lying in such cramped quarters, sticky and languid but he figures this is the best it'll get for him and he's okay with that. Nay, he loves that. He has come home and right now, home is where he wants to be.

So Jon presses a kiss to Brady's stomach and smiles a rare smile. "Nah. We're fine where we are."

---

---

~~~

Jon/Brady This & That​

Touch

"Are you okay?" Jon is busy assessing the damage to his face but Brady has long forgotten the pain. Who is this guy and why is he touching him? It's only after he leaves that Brady realises he liked it.

Ache

Jon knows that feeling well. He aches when he's eaten too much. He aches if he pushes himself extra hard during a workout. He aches if his pants are too tight. But this is a different kind of ache. It's a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye and it aches. It aches real bad.

Sway

He moves like the wind when he wants to. Jon has seen him lose himself plenty of times in the rhythm of the music and later that day when he has him pushed up against the nearest wall, Jon realises that he knows how to sway too.

Reality

"In an alternate reality, we'd be soldiers."

"Watchers."

"And guard this giant fortress."

"A Wall."

"And I'd be a bastard and you'd be an orphan."

"And you'd rise in the ranks and fuck up everyone's shit."

"And you'd be right there beside me."

"Your sidekick."

"No. My better half."

Chocolate

Just let it melt, they say. Jon has and he's busy watching his sticky fingers disappear between a pair of pink lips. Brady isn't particularly fond of sweets, he knows, but when Jon puts his mind to something, he can make anything good and right now, a chocolate covered finger is about as good at it gets.

Furniture

Desks, tables, chairs, kitchen counters. Jon has fucked him anywhere and everywhere. Brady thinks it's time the Starks did a little redecorating. The furniture is starting to look a little used.

"What's this smear?" Catelyn asks.

Jon stifles his laughter and heads off in search of Pledge Furniture Spray.

Baby

"Baby..." Jon rasps, panting and sweating with his forehead pressed evenly against Brady's. He's not yet 16 and Jon has the sudden urge to cradle him protectively in his arms. "Baby," he repeats as he pulls him down.

Pain

There's pain. There's always pain when Jon enters him. It's no different this time and he's fighting the hurt as hard as he always does but then Jon hushes him with a kiss and he knows it's not a battle he has to fight on his own.

Scars

Later, when he's busy buttoning up, he catches sight of the fading bruises on his collarbone. His fingers brush over the one on his neck. "Last Tuesday." He traces the one just above his left nipple. "Sunday before last." He finds the most recent and sees the imprint of Brady's even teeth, smiling fondly. "23 minutes ago."

Worship

"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me."

Brady is smiling, not because he's naked and sprawled out onto the bed like a human buffet, not because he can feel thick curls tickling the inside of his thighs.

"The Bible?"

"Shh. I'm at worship," he says and eats the bread of his boyfriend's body.

Kiss

His kisses leave him breathless. There's passion and desperation and sometimes he gets the feeling it's the last he'll see of him. But Jon always comes back for more and Brady relinquishes his fears to the perfect harmony of their moving mouths.

Hair

He denies his obsession but Brady knows. It's all those times he's grabbed an umbrella on the way out 'just in case'. It's the foreign products that keep the dark curls glistening and styled to perfection. Jon hates it when people touch his hair but tonight, he's murmuring appreciatively as Brady threads his fingers through the beautiful mop.

Love

Jon is the first thing he thinks of when he hears the word love. He doesn't expect him to feel the same way but his heart skips a beat whenever Jon slips his arms around his waist and whispers the "I love you" he never tires of hearing.

Death

He's 16 and a lot less concerned with such finalities. He doesn't brood over things like Jon does. He knows they all have to go at some point but a part of him hopes and prays that his time comes before Jon's.

Thunder

"I hate thunder," he grumbles.

The corner of Jon's lips twitch threateningly. The world outside is cold and grey and the thunder booms loud enough to scare the holy hell out of Brady. Jon doesn't laugh. He's too busy taking Brady into his arms and holding him close. "Don't worry," he reassures softly, "It's just the Gods bowling. Everyone knows that."

Brady can only snort and nuzzle his face into his boyfriend's chest. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Hunger

"Have some more," he urges.

Brady rolls his eyes and helps himself to another slice - his fourth. Jon's always forcing food on him like the fussy mother he's never had. He has to remind himself that it's in Jon's nature to worry and the second Jon stops will be the day he has to worry.

"Here have my frie-"

"No!"

Face

"You're really too cute for your own good."

Jon opens his mouth to protest but he knows anything he says will just fall on deaf ears. Besides, he's too busy trying to pry his boyfriend's hands off of his cheeks.

"Such a cute face. You're like the puppy I always wanted."

For a second, Jon is too shocked to say anything but he doesn't have time to formulate a scathing response because Brady's kissing him and Jon has to kiss back. Something about his pretty face compels him.

Bliss

"When he takes my hand unexpectedly just because he wants to. Even under the table. I remember this one time we were watching a scary movie and he grabbe-"

"I did no such thing."

"You so did."

"You're mistaking me for someone else."

"Jon's clinginess. That's bliss."

"When I wake up and see him asleep beside me. He barks in his sleep."

"I do not!"

"Okay, he doesn't. But... he looks like an angel."

"Smells like teen spirit."

"That you do. But um, I guess... Just being with him. That's bliss."

"Right back at ya, Jonny."

"Don't call me that."

 

[Juno]

Real!Brady/Au!Jon [Had an urge.]​

Brady had never been very affectionate. Jon had learned this the hard way. The last three years had just been a series of fleeting kisses and quick fucks with some tenderness here and there, but the love was undeniable. They wouldn't have lasted this long if not for the love.

But tonight, Jon wasn't having any of it. He had an oddly compliant Brady wrapped up tightly in his arms. The strong smell of smoke and the consistancy of Brady's violent coughing plagued him and it was a nasty reminder that he didn't need. But he was okay. Brady was okay.

He couldn't have counted the number of times the blond had put himself in a dangerous situation. Jon understood that it came with the territory. When dating the world's leading expert in deception, one had to come to live with certain things and coupled with his boyfriend's innate ability to piss the general populace off, he knew it would be one hell of a bumpy ride.

Had he had his doubts? Absolutely. There have been several sleepless nights where he had turned onto his side and wondered when or if his boyfriend would walk through the door and creep in next to him. It seemed as though with every year that passed, the danger only increased. He was a wanted man. If it wasn't the NYPD it was the FBI. And Brady had never had any real regard for following the rules. He made his own rules and the world had to bend to his will. And when it didn't...

Despite everything, they had done well for themselves. Jon with his law-school and Brady with his... everything. The subject of marriage had not yet been broached. Jon knew it would still be a while before they were ready for that kind of commitment but he would have been lying if he said he didn't want it. He did. For once, Jon wanted something that was completely his and his alone, but he knew that no signed document could give that to him. Brady's heart might have belonged to him but that mind... That brilliant mind was meant to be shared with the world and Jon had no right to stop him. No matter how badly he wanted a normal life.

But they were together and they were raising little Evanna. If anything, that had been love at first sight. Jon could vividly recall his first meeting with the little girl he loved above all others and even now, three years later, that feeling never really went away. Just the other night she had fallen asleep on him and mumbled a sleepy 'daddy' that stopped his heart. He knew he should have corrected her. Should have said, 'No, baby, your daddy's not home yet. I'm your Jon.' But he hadn't and he probably never would.

He had spent the last three years falling in love with Brady over and over again. He was stubborn and rude and invasive and Jon felt utterly naked around him all the time but underneath all that, Jon saw. He didn't care how hard Brady tried to hide it but he saw all right. He saw a young man who could have done anything with his life and chose to help other people in his own unique way. Past that mask of indifference, he knew that Brady was just a kid who still needed to be reminded that he didn't need to do everything on his own. That he was loved and it was okay to lean on someone.

Jon didn't know every detail of his boyfriend's life. At times, he could have counted him a stranger but he couldn't and wouldn't pry. When Brady was ready to tell him, he'd be there with open arms. All he knew for certain was that Brady had let him in and Jon didn't intend to screw that up. He had his boyfriend's heart in his hands and he would take care of it. He would take care of him.

Which was why tonight he needed to hold him. Brady's tattered shirt was flapping in the wind and his pale face was covered in soot and Jon knew he had to let go and allow the paramedics to do their job but he needed this. He was shaking so hard he thought he'd never stop. The last hour had been sheer hell and then that explosion...

For 10 minutes Jon had thought that he'd finally lost Brady to his recklessness. That the big guy upstairs had finally decided that his luck had run out and that Jon didn't deserve to be happy. The tears had flowed freely and his heart had hurt so bad he didn't think he would make it home alive. But then he had seen a lone figure stumbling out of the wreckage and his knees had nearly given in. His boyfriend had staggered towards him with that bad ankle of his and Jon had been inconsolable.

He could feel all eyes on them. Brady always hated public displays of affection and he knew they were going to try to pry his arms off of the young genius but right now, he needed this. And so he held him, rocking Brady's thin body gently in his arms. To his surprise, his boyfriend's formally limp limbs tentatively wrapped around him and Jon nearly felt his control shatter again.

No. He had cried enough.

He pressed a furious kiss to the top of Brady's impossibly messy hair and pulled away, gazing at that soot-covered face with anger and love and relief. "I thought I'd lost you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

Brady didn't say anything for a while. No one could make him talk until he was good and ready. He reached out and gently ran his bleeding fingers through Jon's curly hair before tightening his hold. He tugged gently and Jon was forced to move to his will until their faces were mere centimeters apart. Brady's pale blue eyes shined brightly through all the dirt. "Not tonight," he amended quietly, "Not ever."

In other words: I love you and I'm sorry.

 

[Snow Danger]

you are breaking my heart JUST FYI

 

[Juno]

Random Teenage!Evanna/Older!Jon interaction because I can.

~​

Jon missed it.

He missed all those times he'd lie awake and hear the soft pattering of her footsteps, knowing she was coming in to crawl between them. He missed how grubby her hands would get whenever he took her to the park. He missed how she always insisted that he sit with her and watch whatever was currently playing on tv. But most of all, he missed the way she would always look back when he dropped her off to school. Even from the distance he would see the rise of her shoulders as if she were fearful, but then she'd turn around and see him there and smile. He would never leave until she was safely inside the building.

She never looked back nowadays. She didn't have to.

He supposed every parent went through this ordeal at some point in their lives. He had known there would come a day where she would grow up and stop running to him for every little thing. For the most part, he was coping. This was his little girl, after all. He may not have taken any part in conceiving her but he had been there. He had watched her blossom into a beautiful young woman before his eyes, hardly able to believe that she was sixteen. Sixteen. Where had the years gone.

Evanna was definitely her father's daughter. She had the same slim, fair good looks. The same eyes. The same dimples. Even the same mind, though thankfully not as deadly. Jon didn't think he could handle living with two Bradys.

She was only a baby when he had met her. A bubbly, willful, adorable baby who had climbed onto his lap and declared that he was her new friend. Jon had loved her from the very start. He had plenty of experience with kids. Hell, Rickon had only been a little over two years older than Evanna and he had gotten along smashingly with him, but it had been different with Evanna. He had taken to her from the moment he had laid eyes on her.

His unfailing love for her father had only cemented their relationship. He was there to stay and for the past 13 years he had showed no signs of budging. On the contrary, he had married her young father and welcomed the custody that came with it. Evanna was his. If ever he had needed a reminder, Brady was there to give it to him.

Truth be told, he had taken on more of a parental role than Evanna's biological father ever could and with that came the good and the bad. Brady wasn't fit to discipline and so that burden had fallen on his shoulders. Jon wasn't very good at it himself. He always found himself softening whenever he looked into her big beautiful eyes and at times all it took was a well placed daddy and he knew he'd lost the battle. But there were times he refused to budge. She was a teenager and teenagers were stupid and reckless. Groundings had been frequent and each shouting match had ended with an angry "I hate you" before she stormed up to her room.

Jon had always known not to take her words to heart but it stung all the same. But then, she had always come to him and kissed his cheek by way of apology and he would forgive her. She was his baby.

She was Brady's baby too. At times, Jon found himself feeling jealous of their bond. It was stupid, he knew. They obviously shared something on a deeper level because they were blood but it was more than that. Brady was her best friend. He could remember all the times she had stretched herself out on the couch in his study, as if his very presence was enough to soothe her.

But he was the one she ran to when she just wanted a hug. He could never deny her a hug. They did the groceries together. Sometimes she helped him fold the laundry for the hell of it. They both fawned over the dogs in ways Brady never would.

She had gone from being the daughter who always looked back to the daughter who never looked back. He was losing her to the world and it was killing him. He hated it.

Jon missed it. He missed her.

Which was why he had stood by the door far longer than he had intended. She had come down, dressed to the nines and smiling a smile he barely recognised. She was a teenager, he had reminded himself. All teenagers had their secrets. Even Brady didn't pry. Well, he didn't have to. If he saw things, he kept them to himself.

She had offered him a brief goodbye and walked out the door. Jon had watched her climb into a car he had seen several times. It wasn't her company that worried him. She hadn't even waved goodbye.

And so he stood there, a handsome man for his 39 years. There were no greys in his hair yet (thank God) and the harsh lines that came with time had mostly evaded him. It was his eyes that gave away his age. They looked tired more than half the time. So incredibly tired.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jon finally pulled himself away from the door and made for the living room. Brady was out doing things that geniuses did and he had the house to himself. Sirius and Drexl trotted downstairs and brushed past his feet. The dogs had come to sense his loneliness. They knew him well.

He had barely sat down when he heard the front door open. He rose to his feet and wasn't all too surprised to see Evanna looking a little flushed but mostly unconcerned.

"Forgot my phone," she explained.

"Oh," he said and nodded. He had expected her to dash upstairs and promptly take her leave but he noticed that she lingered there for a few moments, her pale blue eyes narrowed slightly. Jon was struck by how much she resembled her father whenever she read him. Jon hated that. He didn't want all of his loved ones playing mind games but he had no real control over it. Besides, she wasn't nearly as good as Brady when it came to seeing things. Thank the heavens for that.

Jon watched her walk upstairs and sighed softly. He bent over to scratch behind Drexl's ears and by the time he rose, Evanna was standing before him. His brows lifted inquiringly and to his complete surprise, she was hugging him. At first, he wasn't sure of what to do. Had someone said something to hurt her? He'd kill them.

"Evie?" he called softly, brushing his fingers through her dark blonde hair, "What's wrong?"

Evanna was smiling when she pulled away, a smile that tugged at his heartstrings in ways only a father could understand. She shook her head and shrugged her slender shoulders. "Nothing. I just forgot to hug you. That's all."

Jon didn't know what to say. He tucked her hair behind her ears and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. "You got your phone?"

She held the obscenely expensive hunk of plastic up for him to see to which he nodded and gave her his most parental look of all. "Don't stay out too late. Your curfew-"

"Is midnight," she concluded, rolling her eyes, "I know, I know. I'm not a baby. Jeez."

No you're not. That's the problem.

Jon released her and walked her back to the door, the dogs following behind him eagerly. As always, he watched to make sure she got safely into the car. She reached for the door-handle and surprised him for the second time that night. Jon felt his breath catch in his throat.

His daughter turned her head and waved at him.

Jon lifted a hand and waved back and then she was off. She wasn't a baby. Not anymore, but she was and would always be his little girl.

 

[Juno]

[Inspired by my new haircut lol >_>;]

~​

"I like it."

"I hate it."

Jon didn't reply right away. He was too busy inspecting Brady's hair. His fingers glided smoothly through the blond strands which was virtually unheard of. Yeah, she had definitely cut it shorter than usual. He wasn't even getting tangled up in the rat's nest like he would have before. Still, he stood behind his initial opinion.

"I like it," he repeated, brushing a few stray locks off of Brady's forehead, "And since when are you so concerned with how you look?"

"Oh, ever since I started dating you, Jon," Brady replied promptly, "You inspire me to look my best."

The sarcasm was not missed but Jon found himself smiling nevertheless. He could finally see Brady's cute ears and for once his pretty face wasn't hidden behind the disheveled curtain he called hair. He looked, if Jon was going to be completely honest, like a boy. A sweet little boy. The look was already growing on him.

He dropped his hand onto Brady's slender shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You look adorable."

Brady furrowed his brow, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever. It'll grow."

Jon was thoroughly amused. Brady had been carded plenty of times in the past and it could only get worse with this new do. They made quite the pair and right about now, he couldn't have been any more fond of his boyfriend.

Brady fixed him with a thoroughly withering look. "What?"

"Nothing," Jon replied with a shake of his head. He slipped his arms around the blond's slim waist and tugged him close. "I'm just falling in love with you all over again."

If Brady was surprised, he didn't show it though the muscles in his face had relaxed somewhat. He puffed out his cheeks and leaned in close enough so that their noses rubbed briefly. "Where's Evanna?"

"Ben took her to the park. Sooo... We're-"

"Alone," he concluded.

Jon could tell that he was thinking about something but unlike Brady, he didn't have the uncanny ability to piece things together and so he waited for his boyfriend to voice his thoughts.

"I'm tired," Brady stated in a quieter tone and sure enough there were dark circles lining his pale blue eyes and Jon had the distinct urge to kiss the weariness away.

"Lie with me?" the blond asked in an uncharacteristically boyish voice that matched his hair.

Jon was pleasantly surprised. Had Brady lost his edge along with his hair? Not likely. "Can I play with your hair?" he asked with a forced air of seriousness.

Brady made no reply and simply grabbed his hand to lead him away. Jon didn't mind. With Brady lying in his arms, he would surely get his way.

 

[Juno]

Young Girl

~​

Theon Greyjoy was incredibly uncomfortable. It was bad enough to pretend to care when a teenager sobbed about her problems but when said teenager decided to use his shirt for a handkerchief, a new level of willpower had to be harnessed and practiced. If she wasn't Robb's niece, he would have left her to her awkward tears a while ago. But she was Robb's niece and he just had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And so he sat there on that bench on a beautiful summer day with a pretty teenage girl clinging to him for dear life. Theon could only scowl at the people passing by who had the gall to stare. He had been forced to look the part of concerned parent and it was that and that alone that compelled him to awkwardly pat her blonde head while she continued to cry.

Somewhere between her first sob and her feeble hiccups, he had managed to call her actual father and if the Gods were kind, Snow would be here shortly and relieve him of this terrible burden. He would probably have to throw the shirt out. No number of washings could remove the stain of underage tears.

"It's not fair," she wept, her voice muffled into the cotton, "Just because I wasn't ready he..."

Now this was an entirely different kind of uncomfortable. Forced comfort was one thing but Theon was not prepared to listen to her go on about her sex life or lack thereof.

"He's an idiot," he cut in before she could go into lurid detail, "He just dumped the prettiest girl he could ever hope to get. I'll kick his arse from here to Brooklyn. Just say the word." That wasn't a complete lie. He would have agreed to anything if it meant getting her off of him. He was no good at this. Theon Greyjoy was no one's therapist.

Surprisingly enough, his words seemingly connected and after what seemed like an eternity, she was finally pulling away and squinting at him through the harsh glare of the sun. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy but otherwise she was still a strikingly pretty girl of 16.

16.

Theon frowned, not daring to say anything lest she wind up sobbing again. For the first time in forever, the sight of Jon Snow was filling him with sheer relief and even a little joy. He tried not to watch when Snow effortlessly swept the teen into his arms and fixed her with that parental look of concern.

"It's all right," he soothed before turning to address Theon. The look on his face seemed strained as if expressing even a little gratitude towards him was a chore. "Thanks for calling me."

Theon didn't reply and rose from his spot. He would never sit on this bloody bench again.

Jon was ready to leave but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Evanna lingering and in spite of his better judgment, he turned back around to see what the holdup was. Perhaps he would regret his decision some day but at that moment, she got up on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste little kiss to his cheek.

Theon didn't react. He simply stared at her. Even after crying for god only knew how long, she looked positively vibrant when she smiled and what a smile it was. Her teeth were straight and even and white and the dimples on either sides of her face only added to the angelic look. The pale blue eyes that reminded him so much of her bloody father were wide and shiny and actually flashing.

Beautiful, he noted. Unfairly, unreasonably, undoubtedly beautiful.

"Thanks for listening," she added shyly before going to her father at last.

Theon ignored the way Jon was looking at him, suspicious and a little annoyed. He stood there long after the pair of them had driven off. The heat of the day had quickly dried his shirt off and it was only when he felt the tell-tale sting of an oncoming sunburn that he willed himself to walk away.

Halfway down the street, Theon Greyjoy began to whistle to the tune of that old classic. Young girl, get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line. Better run, girl. You're much too young, girl...

 

[Snow Danger]

 

[Juno]

Untitled/Unfinished

~​

Theon had never meant for it to happen.

He could vividly recall the first time he had met her. It was a birthday party for one of the brats (he didn't care to recall which one) and she had been there with her well-to-do, hippy, mind-raping, smarmy prick of a father. Theon didn't know who he disliked more. That sullen bastard Snow or his lady-boy 'partner'. From the moment he had laid eyes on Brady, he had known that they wouldn't get along. The invasion of personal space was one thing but the guy (and he used that term lightly) had quite the mouth on him. Better men had been clocked into the next century for simply existing and this pretty boy worked his last nerve.

But Theon had put up with him. Why? Because he was Jon Snow's pet and Jon Snow just happened to be his best friend's brother. As a rule, Theon cared little for the opinion of others and even less for these so-called unwritten rules between men but he had known the Starks since he was about 8 and despite everything, he had grown up with Jon Snow. Perhaps he would even have been a little bummed if the bastard croaked. One could never know these things and Theon Greyjoy didn't like to share.

So he had put up with everything which was well enough because there was a difference between stomaching someone and being friendly. The kids had been too young to pick up on the not-so-subtle jibes they traded and fuck that brainiac for always one-upping him. He reminded him of a half-man he once knew, only much, much worse.

Theon had never enjoyed those pointless social gatherings, especially when they happened for the sole purpose of celebrating a kid's birthday. He didn't like kids. He never would. He had only ever put up with Bran and Arya and the like because of Robb and even as an adult he was pandering to another generation of Starks. He supposed it came with practically living in their mansion as a teen. The Starks were decent people and Theon's lady-friend (because girlfriend wasn't his style) had nagged until he had decided it was better to agree before he cock-slapped her into a permanent silence. That would have been nice if not for the fact that he did enjoy a healthy screamer and scream she did.

He had gone and only barely acknowledged the youngins. His place had been with Robb and the others and the kids were thankfully kept at an agreeable distance though they were always loud. But then she had wandered into their little circle with that petulant look that he would have slapped right off of her face had she been his own child.

She had certainly been cute enough but in that sickeningly perfect way like a little cherub. She had those golden ringlets of hair and big blue eyes that appeared to suck the best of them in. Theon hadn't understood what the fuss was all about. She was just another kid to be annoyed with but even Robb had seemed taken with her.

It was only when she had locked eyes on him with a rather severe look that he had been forced to put his drink down and stare right back.

"I know you," she had piped in her high-pitched five-year-old's voice, "You're Theon."

He had glanced sideways at Robb as if expecting something before nodding. "What of it?" He could feel Snow's eyes on him as if daring him to mistreat the brat. Well, with everyone watching, he couldn't have done that anyway.

"My daddy says you're the reason the world has ruh...-ruh-stray-ning orders."

Theon blanched as if someone had just kicked him in the gut. The laughter that followed had rang in his ears long after a very embarrassed looking Snow had glared at his fairy of a boyfriend and carted the lippy brat off.

If he hadn't been surrounded by witnesses, he would grabbed the little genius and dragged him outside to show him what a real man could do when he put his mind to it. Fortunately for him, Theon had smiled the insult off. She was just a kid, after all. A kid couldn't wound a Greyjoy's pride.

Over the years, he had seen her several times. If it wasn't a party it was Christmas, if it wasn't Christmas it was an anniversary. Whatever the case, she had gone from mouthy kindergartner to mouthy teenager. She was definitely a looker, he had to admit. She had that classic clean-cut beauty to her with the straight nose, high cheekbones and tumble of blonde waves and easily the best set of legs he had ever seen. Even Sansa seemed rather plain in comparison which was always cause for a chuckle. It was only the smile that reminded him of her age, complete with angelic dimples. If Theon had been about 20 years younger, he might have taken his chances. Not that he was doing bad for himself. He was well into his 40s but one would ever know. Still, he wasn't 20 years younger and silent, grudging admiration of her good looks was all he would allow.

While nearly all of his friends had at last settled down and started families fo their own, Theon had remained a bachelor which didn't come as a surprise to anyone, including himself. He hadn't been made for commitment and the Greyjoys were both proud and dysfunctional. It ran in his blood. He couldn't keep a relationship lasting for more than a couple of months and most of the chicks he bothered with only stuck around for the sex.

But he did flirt.

Even Evanna wasn't safe from his advances, harmless though they might have been. He had only ever hit on her in front of Snow to elicit some sort of reaction. The bastard was entertaining like that. No one really approved. Even Arya told him off from time to time but it was Robb and Robb alone who vouched for him. Of course, he could have done it in a nicer way. Pointing out that Theon was quite scummy and philandering and downright dishonest at times hadn't flattered him in the least but at least he had the good sense to point out that Theon would never have stooped so low. Theon had been accused of being a lot of things, most of which had some merit, but a paedophile wasn't one of them. There wasn't enough money in the world for him to bed a 16 year old, certainly not one who could almost have been considered his niece by default. He was a little more involved in the affairs of the Starks and the Fitzgeralds than he would have liked.

But it had still come as a surprise when his doorbell had been rung repeatedly some time after midnight during that endless summer. Theon was disagreeable enough to begin with but when woken up from a fairly pleasant dream, he was downright nasty. He had considered ignoring his nighttime visitor all together but the annoying chime had come one after the other until he had been forced to rise and walk himself to the front door, fully prepared to tell off whoever was on the other end.

It had come as a complete shock to find a middle-aged police officer standing beside a stricken-looking Evanna. His annoyance had turned to confusion but the story had begun to piece itself together quickly enough.

"Is this your daughter?" the cop had asked, calmly explaining that she had been one of the main hosts of a very rowdy party several blocks off that had resulted in many complaints about noise and general ruckus. As she conveniently didn't have any identification on her, they had decided to kindly drop her home and here she was, ready for a grounding she'd remember for the rest of her life.

If he hadn't been half-asleep, he might have smiled as he always did at the hilarity of the situation. Evanna had looked so desperate and for a split-second, he had seen her father there in her place and the feeling had nearly gone to his cock. Such power. In the end, he had confirmed that she was indeed his daughter and that he would see to it that she didn't leave the house until she was married. Thanking the officer for doing his job well, Theon had closed the door behind him and turned to face her. The silence that fell between them had been brief before she had begun to ramble endlessly.

The begging and pleading to not tell her parents had gone on for longer than he could stomach. He had politely told her to shut up and asked what he considered to be a very reasonable question. Why him?

The question had seemed to genuinely trump her for a good while until she had shrugged and sheepishly replied that he had been the first person that came to mind.

He had fixed her with a blank look and told her not to get comfortable because he was going to drive her home and if it hadn't been the middle of the night, her response might have proved quite comical.

"No!" she had screamed in horror, grabbing his arm in her small but vice-like hands, "You can't. I came here because I thought you were cool enough to let me get away with this. Y'know, you're the guy who doesn't care about any of that stuff. You're like the anti-grownup. You can't take me home tonight. You can't tell them!"

Theon had glanced down at her hand on his arm to which she had carefully recoiled. He shifted his weight restlessly. "I can't?" he had repeated, deadly calm.

"Please don't," she had backtracked, looking close to tears, "I promise I'll leave first thing tomorrow and never bother you again. Ever."

Theon had been both impressed and annoyed by her assumptions. To allow her to spend the night would have been poor judgment and really a burden he had no intentions of bearing but it in the end, it was the tears that had sealed the deal. Theon Greyjoy didn't do tears. They made him very uncomfortable.

He had agreed to let her stay and promised to drive her home in the morning if it meant that she'd shut up and stay out of his way. The awkward and unexpected hug that had followed had been highly unwelcome but she had pulled away before he could shove her off. Theon Greyjoy didn't do hugs either, unless there was something in it for him.

She had been dressed in a this little black number that he suspected had not been the outfit she had worn upon leaving Jon Snow's line of sight. Knowing she would probably have bitched about wrinkling her designer crap, he had disappeared and promptly reappeared holding an old shirt of his which he tossed at her.

"Uh... thanks," she had replied with no hint of actual gratitude in her tone, "Do you have a spare toothbrush?"

"No. Use your finger." Whether or not she had heeded his advice was irrelevant but when she had locked herself in the bathroom, Theon had busied himself in the kitchen. He had known from all the years of sleeping over at the Starks' that Sansa was a lot less bitchy when she had a warm cup of milk to help her sleep at night and he could see the parallels between the auburn-haired diva and his new ward. Better to quell the hurricane long before it had a chance to strike.

She had remerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and drowning in the oversized t shirt he had loaned. Her legs had looked longer and fitter than ever but he had said nothing and thrust the cup at her like he intended to throw the scalding milk in her pretty face.

The look of surprise had not gone unnoticed but she had smiled for the first time that night and he had taken that as a small victory. "Tomorrow's Sunday and if you wake me up before noon, I'll be driving you back home in a casket. Got it?"

She had nodded and seemed unperturbed by his grumpy tone. The smile had reached her eyes and Theon had been forced to remind himself that he was a tired old man who needed his sleep but for what seemed like the umpteenth time, she had cut in with more words. Women and their words.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night," she had said, having the good sense to look humbled while she tucked her blond hair behind her ear, "And thanks for not ratting me out to my dad."

Theon didn't need to know which one she spoke of. Snow was crazy protective for reasons he couldn't fathom. Then again, he didn't have a daughter to care for and never would. He couldn't perceive things from a father's eyes.

He had waved off her thanks and watched her settle down onto his expensive leather couch. Being torn between sleeping and leaving a teenager alone in his living room had been quite the battle but inevitably he had decided to keep watch until she went to bed. If worse came to worst, he could order her to sleep. She was the kid and he was the adult. It was a beautiful hierarchy.

The silence that had followed had been broken by awkward and forced comments about the decor. Theon didn't need her praise. He was a lazy bachelor but he also had picky women in his life who insisted on furnishing for him. It wasn't a bad deal. At least he got laid.

Whenever Theon looked back on this particular incident, he found himself frowning because even after all this time, he couldn't say for sure what had compelled her to do what she did.

One second she was asking how much the couch had run him and the next she was setting her cup aside and brazenly mentioning how understanding he was with a look in her eyes that would have had him squirming if he wasn't who he was. Yeah, that was Theon all right. The voice of reason in these troubled times for the youth of America.

All he knew for certain was that he didn't care for the way she had looked at him. Or rather, he did care which made it that much worse. He had excused himself and made a beeline for his bedroom. With the promise of being rid of her on the morrow, he had settled under the sheets and found that sleep would not come so easily. It didn't matter. It hadn't taken her that long to join him.

He had been in that halfway state where he was not quite asleep but very close to it when she had tiptoed into his room and crawled under the sheets with him. It was really the feel of her small breasts pushing up against his arm that had really roused him.

At first, Theon had been certain that he was dreaming. There was no way she would have the nerve to be in bed with him but her touch was real enough and he had felt boneless.

The bare skin of her legs had felt like silk against his own and her hands had been gliding up and down his torso with growing certainty. It had been dark, too dark to get a good look into her eyes and before long, Theon's body had begun to betray him and the kraken was being released. Only when her hand had begun to travel south did he summon such willpower that he had never known. He had grabbed her dainty wrist harder than he had intended but there was no mercy in his eyes. Though she couldn't see the storm brewing in his grey eyes, her trembling, coupled with a soft gasp had been a pretty good indicator that she understood.

"No," he had stated firmly, trying his hardest not to tremble right along with her.

And that was that.

Or so he would have liked to think. The years that followed were torturous. Theon didn't want to believe that he could develop actual feelings for someone who had still been breastfeeding when he was already establishing a career. But he couldn't ignore all the sleepless nights of wondering how she would have tasted had he gone down on her. Sometimes he could still feel her hands on his skin and he was certain he would never meet a woman with a pair of legs quite so lovely. They would have wrapped around him so well while he drove into her and the sound of his name would never have sounded so sweet as she chanted it.

But Evanna Fitzgerald was Jon Snow's daughter. She was Robb Stark's niece... And Theon Greyjoy was an old man.

He'd bury these evil thoughts if it was the last thing he ever did.

 

[Juno]

~​

With a broken wrist and just a few cuts and bruises along his temple, Brady would have considered this a success.

Going undercover wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him. No, a part of him firmly believed that he was born to do these things otherwise deemed unfit for someone of his stature and curious disposition. When the plan had gone awry, Brady had been forced to think on his feet which often worked in his favour but they had all had the misfortune of dealing with one of the more scummier individuals the world had to offer. He was, at the end of the day, a raging sociopath. They were hardest to read of all and when the situation had turned to his being a hostage for what seemed like the millionth time, Brady had not repeated the same mistakes. He was no longer a kid and somehow, someway, he had gotten out alive. He couldn't say the same for Franklin who had been gunned down the second Gabe had had a clear shot.

Gabe.

It had been Gabe all along.

For the past three months Brady had resigned himself to accept the fact that he was dating again. The days had been breezy and mostly painless. In spite of the fact that Gabe had initially been a startling reminder of all that he had lost, he had soon discovered that there were several layers he had needed to peel away to find the real Gabriel Newark.

He was a strapping man who stood at an even 6'5 with short brown hair and light blue eyes that always shined when he smiled, and what a smile it was. He was a man who more or less had his life together but Brady being Brady had discovered that like any other human being in their Godforsaken world, the detective had some unresolved issues of his own. He was generous and kind and could even be fussy at times which was easily the last thing Brady needed considering all the nannies he already had in his life but it was charming all the same. Gabe had that innate desire to take care of someone and while Brady had been reluctant at first, he had let his guard down little by little. They still had ways to go but it was a comforting thought when he realised he usually had someone to see during the week. Someone who in turn wanted to see him and just be with him. That was a relationship, right?

It was funny how these near-death incidents really opened up the doors for some substantial thoughts. For the past three months, Brady had allowed himself to get comfortable with the idea that he wasn't alone anymore. Slowly and with the greatest of care, Gabe was somehow relieving him of the misery Danny's departure had left behind. It was a collective effort. Gabe's gentle kisses and the way he would always reach for him when Brady showed even the barest sign of ankle-induced fatigue were a part of it. He made him tea when he sniffled. He brushed the hair out of his face when it got particularly windy outside. He always reached over and squeezed his knee when they came to a stoplight.

Gabe was being the boyfriend Brady wanted him to be, needed him to be and it was touching to know that all of these traits were inherent. Gabe could be downright scary when he wanted to be but at the core, he was a sweet man who wanted to love and be loved. It's what anyone ever wanted.

All of these thoughts ran through his somewhat muddled brain. He could still feel the razor sharp edge of Franklin's switchblade against his throat though it had fallen right along with its wielder the moment the gunshot had rang. He still hated that sound. He would always hate that sound.

He stood a few feet away from a dead body that had ceased convulsing and now simply lay still and bled out. Sunlight was pooling through the cracks in the boarded up windows of the abandoned building where he had been forcibly taken several hours before. Officers and paramedics were moving all around him, voices chattering away at a disagreeably loud volume.

Through the blur of faces, Brady only saw Gabe who had lowered his gun and was fixing him with a guilty look and he almost wanted to smack him for it. This isn't your fault, he wanted to say, it was never your fault. Instead, he kept his silence and watched the tall man approach him. He could tell that Gabe wanted to reach for him by the way he just barely lifted his hands and promptly lowered them, clenching his fists. The guilt only intensified when mingled with worry in those blue, blue eyes.

Brady regarded him in a thoughtful silence, knowing he had to be the one to break it. "Nice shot, detective," he commented in a relatively calm voice despite the intense beating of his heart. He had been afraid. He would have been stupid not to. "You saved my life." The pain in his wrist was intense but he had broken it before and somehow, he was bearing it in favour of organizing the sudden onslaught of frantic thoughts.

Gabe was eyeing the cuts and bruises on his face, he knew, and then his eyes were dropping down to the swollen wrist. His deep guilt was punctuated by a visible wince as he struggled with himself. He wanted to say something but instead he signaled for the paramedics to come over and attend to 'Fitzgerald'.

Brady blinked and appeared to grow paler than ever. That single word had awoken the fears he had tried so desperately to bury but in a situation like this where death was waiting at his door and the world stood by to judge him, he couldn't do anything but accept the naked truth.

Fitzgerald. It was so... detached. One of the few things Brady had noticed about Gabe right off the bat was his desire to keep things on a first-name basis. Oh sure, he would throw in an affectionate kid every now and then but he had always been Brady. Until now...

All at once he was reminded of Danny. How they had despised each other from the start. And then that mutual dislike had grown into something strong. Brady had allowed himself to think that he would spend the rest of his life with the man who had given and taken the best two and a half years of his life.

Danny had saved him and loved him and cared for him... but in the end... his career had taken precedence over the love. Brady had understood that on an objective level but it had hurt so bad to be second place. He was never good enough. Not for his father. Not for his mother. Not for Danny. But Gabe...

Brady needed to know. There had once been a time where Brady had thought that he would never come out of his heartache-induced depression but Gabe had thrown him a lifeline and coaxed him out of his protective shell with his kindness and willingness to accept who he was. But was he willing to take everything that came with him?

Ignoring the gentle hands of the paramedics who wished to guide him away, Brady took shaky steps towards Gabe until he stood only a few inches apart. He wasn't a short man by any means but Gabe dwarfed the best of them. He was looking at Brady with a level of alarm that was kind of adorable.

"You should let them help you," he urged softly, "You're hurt."

Brady heard all of it and none of it. He kept his arms lowered at his sides and wordlessly leaned up until his lips touched Gabe's and held them there. It wasn't hard. He had kissed Gabe plenty of times and enjoyed the familiarity of the gesture but this was different. Like Danny before him, they had unconsciously decided to keep a certain level of discretion and decorum when in the presence of their colleagues. Like Danny, Gabe was fiercely in love with his job and would have given it his all. Brady just wanted to know if the similarities between the two would make them or break them. Was Gabe the one? Or would he fade into nothing more than a fond but bitter memory.

The initial resistance had been felt and Brady had held his breath and his place. He didn't release Gabe from the kiss until he was satisfied. It take a few seconds but what he had felt then was a definite response. It was the way in which his boyfriend applied the gentlest of pressure against his mouth and tenderly mouthed at his lower lip as if he were fearful of hurting him.

The kiss had lasted no more than 20 seconds which would seem a lifetime with everyone watching. He pulled away and held his breath. When he studied Gabe, he was afraid of finding anger or disappointment or disapproval - everything Danny would have shown if Brady had kissed him in plain sight of his co-workers.

Brady knew he was being selfish and he knew that this could potentially alienate Gabe from the male officers and detectives but he had to know. He couldn't continue on if he knew he was fighting a battle he would never win. It wasn't a fight he was ready for. He never would be.

The pause was making his heart hammer painfully in his chest and for a moment, Brady lost the ability to read anything and all he saw was what his fears allowed him to see. But then Gabe's face was softening and the detective reached out and pulled him forwards. His hand was gentle and soon enough Brady was engulfed by the familiar warmth and solidity of his boyfriend's body. He could feel Gabe's steady fingers rubbing soothing circles into his tense back and then he pressed a kiss to his forehead and Brady knew.

He knew.

He looked up into the detective's eyes and found that he was smiling a tired but utterly beautiful smile. He put his strong arm around Brady's slender shoulders and carefully spun him around. "Come on. Let's get you looked at."

And Brady agreed.

 

[Juno]

~​

He moved like a cat, looked like a puppy, acted like a child.

Or so Theon thought to himself as he watched Brady skip over the dead bodies like he was playing some twisted game of hopscotch. He had this really crazed look in his otherwise dead eyes that made Theon feel antsy. He'd been standing there a good five minutes, taking generous gulps from a half-full bottle of JD. Or half-empty. Depending on how one looked at things.

Today marked their four month anniversary, so to speak. Theon wasn't really the type to celebrate any one event. The way he saw it, every day was an event of sorts and as such, every day was a celebration and he and Brady sure knew how to celebrate.

Walking into the nearest convenience store and shooting up the place was what they called a party. Of course, in the end, it was a party for two but Theon didn't mind. He surely hadn't minded for the past four months. He would never forget the first time he had seen Brady with that lost look in his eyes, hiding behind a curtain of messy blond hair. Theon didn't really believe in true love but even he'd admit that he felt something he had never felt before with this blond enigma.

Four months ago, Theon had seen opportunity and a very pretty face. It had been at one of those ridiculous and unhelpful AA meetings that he still went to for shits and giggles. He had only pretended to listen while people poured their hearts out but when that one kid started to speak, something in his voice had sparked his interest. He sounded broken and scared and so dead inside.

Theon wasn't very affectionate at all but at that moment he had wanted to take this Brady kid into his arms and fuck his worries away. He was 18. Not of a legal drinking age but Theon didn't give two fucks about that. Everything he had said from his being tossed around in foster care like dirty laundry to being molested by the local minister struck a chord with Theon. He could fucking relate.

Nice.

When they finally got to him, Theon had done what he had been doing for the better part of three weeks. He gunned down everyone in sight and left a very horrified Brady trembling in his chair. Theon had been all smiles when he approached the kid which was a feat in itself considering how hard his cock had been. He had stopped only centimeters apart from the blond's face so that he could smell the mint on his breath.

"Hey," he had drawled, "Let's talk."

What had followed had worked better than Theon had imagined. Oh the kid definitely had some learning to do. He was scared and uncertain but he was obedient. Theon loved that. And he couldn't even begin to describe the sex. Good gods the sex. If he had known that they made boys that tight he'd have been buggering them long ago.

Theon had learned that Brady needed something real for once and for a kid who had been anally raped by life over and over again, he sure clung to Theon hard enough. But he liked that. It made him feel powerful.

The first kill was the hardest. They had walked in casually and made-out sloppily in front the chips display when Theon had shot a gawker. He liked an audience all right but not when they gave him those disgusted, holier-than-thou looks. He had urged Brady to shoot the clerk and outright yelled in his ear but the kid had frozen in place like a fucking deer caught in the headlights. Theon had did it for him, but never again.

The 'punishment' had been a hard fuck and he had spanked Brady so hard his ass had sung. He was surprised to find that the kid didn't cry. Oh sure he whined and whimpered like a wounded animal but no tears. Theon had rewarded him with a rimjob to remember. He could make amends when need be.

The second time had almost been a repeat of the first but Brady had managed to come through at the last minute. Now Theon had expected a lot of things. Fainting, trembling, puking, but he hadn't expected that smile. It was fucking bizarre. There was this gangly blond kid with this killer's gleam in his eyes and the cutest smile on his face, complete with dimples. And nothing could have stopped Theon from smiling back.

After that, things ran smoothly. They killed whenever they could. From convenience stores to gas stations to AA meetings and what a thrill it was. Half the time he couldn't wait to stick it in Brady and he'd be shooting some unsuspecting bloke down with his tongue half-way down the kid's throat.

For once, life was good. But they weren't done. Not by a long-shot.

"Come on, let's get the fuck out of here."

"Aw, you're no fun," Brady pouted. Actually pouted.

Theon loved and hated that pout. It made him feel like a damn paedo. He kept his patience in check but he was more restless than ever. He wanted to go somewhere. A field, a highway, a fucking motel. He just wanted to fuck but not here. He fingered the gun in his hand and idly tapped it against his denim-clad thigh.

Brady sighed and stepped over a bleeding redneck, staring at Theon with those damnable pretty eyes. He bit his plush lip and reached for Theon, tugging purposefully at the ends of his shirt. "Aren't you gonna fuck me?" he practically purred, his warm breath hitting Theon's cheek and making him shudder, "Come on, fuck me, Theon. I want to feel your cock moving inside my ass."

Theon inhaled deeply, his cock ready to burst right out of his pants. He swallowed hard and lifted his revolver. He traced the muzzle along Brady's pink lips, watching and listening intently while his lover/partner in crime shivered and panted. Theon felt the blood rush to his dick and smiled that Greyjoy smile of his.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

Brady widened his misty eyes momentarily and did as he was told.

Good boy. Theon gently eased the muzzle between the parted lips, biting his own to keep from moaning at just how hot that looked. "Suck it," he commanded and was greatly pleased to see Brady doing exactly that. Theon had experienced the wonders of the kid's mouth and felt strangely jealous as he watched the blond moving his head along the revolver and even going so far as to lick along the barrel.

Damn.

Theon pulled the gun away and grabbed Brady by his hair, tugging him forwards for a bruising kiss. "Come on," he whispered and they ran to the car, Brady's boyish giggle trailing behind them and echoing in the empty parking lot. Soundtrack of my summer, Theon thought amusedly.

They drove for miles and miles with Brady chugging whiskey and offering Theon generous sips here and there. By the time they pulled over, both of them were properly drunk and practically drenched in alcohol. But he didn't care.

His dick was already hard and leaking by the time he tugged his pants down. He had Brady spread out on the hood of his beat-up pick-up and pushed into him roughly. Brady cried out as he always did but Theon made nothing of it. He fucked the blond long and hard every which way, teasing the revolver along his overly sensitive nipples like the asshole that he was.

Brady came with an ear-shattering cry, again and again until his ass was leaking come.

Theon breathed hard against the blond's sweaty neck, pressing tender kisses here and there strictly out of impulse. Brady still had his arms and legs wrapped tight around him but he didn't have it in him to pull away. Brady always wore him out which wasn't a bad deal at the end of the day.

The blond seemed roused by his kisses and was licking along his ear to which Theon could only grunt his approval. Brady was panting harder than he was and murmuring words he couldn't make it but he did manage to catch the last five.

"I love you, Theon Greyjoy."

Theon pulled away to stare at Brady's face. What he saw there made his mouth run dry. The kid was smiling in that lazy, inviting way he knew too well but there was a look in his eyes that he hadn't seen before. Past the blind devotion and admiration there was a fondness that felt so alien that Theon didn't know what to make of it.

The kid was really in love with him. Him. Theon No-Account/Low-Life/Miserable Dick Greyjoy.

When he swallowed, he could still taste the remnants of their mingling saliva. The sun was going down and casting pretty shadows along Brady's prettier face. He found himself brushing the unruly blond hair out of his eyes which was a rather tender gesture but Theon didn't mind so much. He rather liked this relationship, the only real relationship he had ever had. Brady looked to him for support and care and damn it, Theon was gonna love him too. If he didn't already.

Smiling, Theon leaned in and rubbed their sticky noses together. "Yeah? Well, I fuckin' love you too, Sunshine." They shared a kiss which was far sweeter than Theon could ever remember and would continue to do so for a few precious years.

~~~​

They were surrounded. Sirens blared outside and the telltale flash of cop cars was enough to blind him. He could still feel the coppery taste of blood at the back of his throat. Brady's blood.

His lover had been shot in the struggle and his shoulder was a crimson horror. He was lying in Theon's lap and growing paler by the minute. If he didn't get help soon, he would bleed out and die, he was sure of it. But they had no out. They were surrounded and going outside would mean surrendering and that was a fate worse than death. They would separate them. They would take his freedom away and he'd never get closure. They'd take Brady away from him.

He jerked his head up when a male voice issued another warning/command for him to come out with his hands in the air. Piss on that. Piss on all of that.

Theon rubbed the gun muzzle over his sweaty forehead, staring down at Brady with a stricken look. The smile he saw there broke his heart into a million little pieces.

"It's cold," the blond slurred which resulted in a violent coughing fit.

Theon shushed him and pulled him closer, cradling him gently and possessively in his arms. "Don't talk, baby," he urged, unknowingly rocking him like one would rock a child to sleep, "Save your strength. We're gonna get out of here. You're gonna be fine, okay?"

Brady choked and for a second Theon thought that he had lost him but then the blond's body relaxed and he felt relief wash over him. Brady took shaky breath after shaky breath, trying to lift his hand but finding himself too weak for the effort.

"You love me?" he rasped.

Theon winced, not wanting him to talk but terrified that he'd never hear that voice again if he didn't. "Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, yeah, I do. You know I do. More than anything."

Brady nodded slowly, his lips parted and his breaths coming in little wheezes. "I love you," he managed, "Theon... I... love you."

That did it. Theon couldn't fight it. Years of never once shedding a tear had taken its toll and he was crying as he rocked his Brady to an eternal sleep where there was no pain and no worries. The tears mingled with the blood stains and ran down his stubbled cheeks.

Brady seemingly took notice of his state and mustered up all the strength he had left to lift his fingers, moving them slowly to get Theon's attention.

Theon linked their hands and carefully brought Brady's up to his mouth to kiss it. The cops were growing restless and Brady was dying. He didn't know what to do anymore.

A very faint smile tugged at the corners of the blond's mouth that managed to reach his eyes. He was smiling again but it wasn't a pained smile. "Now and forever?" he asked in that same tiny voice that had grabbed Theon's attention and inevitably stolen his heart.

Soundtrack of my life, he thought.

He was shaking and trying desperately not to sob his heart out but somehow, if only for Brady, he kept it together and nodded. "Now and forever, baby."

Brady's smile widened as he closed his eyes and never opened them again. It took a while for it to register in Theon's mind that his lover had stopped moving. The slow rise and fall of his chest had stilled and he was silent as the grave. Gone.

Gone.

Theon didn't cry. No. He simply leaned down and pressed a final, tender kiss to Brady's lips which were still warm. He brushed the hair out of his face, remembering all the times he had threatened to cut it off in Brady's sleep if he didn't stop being annoying.

Theon clutched the grip of his revolver. He had saved a bullet. One bullet. Lifting the gun to his temple, Theon gazed down at the sleeping Brady with nothing but love in his eyes. "Now and forever," he repeated.

The world went black and Theon Greyjoy knew no more.

 

[Juno]

[idc this pairing is my crack and I'll write it all I want >:[]

Winter is Coming​

It's well into fall but the sun is shining brighter than ever and Jon needs no further confirmation because he can see Brady squinting in that adorable manner of his. It's the way he creases his brows and even goes so far as to wrinkle his nose as if sunlight is the most disagreeable thing imaginable. He can't really blame him. With that porcelain skin of his, it doesn't take very much for him to burn.

But Jon has insisted that they enjoy the weather while they can. After all, winter is coming.

He's seated on a bench he always passes by but hasn't really ever considered making use of until now. Brady's lying on his back with his head in Jon's lap, looking supremely bored while picking at the tattered ends of his sleeve. It's a fairly secluded place and it's only ever so often that a person will pass by and shoot them an odd look or two. They're either homophobes or still not entirely comfortable with the idea of seeing such a blatant display of affection between two teenage boys.

The few who don't bother to look are likely assuming that Brady's a girl. Jon can see the sense in that. That's one of the main reasons Jon finds his boyfriend so attractive. He's different and a constant reminder of their actual age. Jon's only 16 himself but every day spent with Brady makes him feel much, much older.

He's still a child, really. A grave, thoughtful and serious child with this 'come love me' air to him that Jon finds impossible to resist. At 15, Brady's been fucked more times than he will care to admit, but thankfully it's all by the same person. Jon has a sex-drive that could rival Zeus which people find hard to believe. He doesn't care what they think. It works in his favour.

He can feel Brady shifting restlessly but it turns out that the innocent movement of his boyfriend's head is having quite the adverse effect on his nether regions. He clears his throat loudly and places a hand on Brady's forehead.

Naturally this draws the blond's attention. He stops squirming and glances up at him questioningly.

Jon smoothes the messy blond hair away. "Baby, how old are you?" His voice is quiet and inquisitive.

Brady frowns, clearly confused, not by the question but rather why Jon is asking it when he knows the answer. "15."

Jon raises a brow, clearly trying to insinuate at some manner of disbelief. "Are you sure?"

This earns him a glare and Jon notices it when Brady decides not to honour that question with a reply. Instead, he closes his eyes with a great big sigh. "I'm cold," he mumbles.

Jon reacts instantly. "Do you want my jacket?" He'll drape it over him if Brady can't be arsed to move. He doesn't want his boyfriend to get sick. Jon worries a lot. He's a worrier. Robb says.

Brady isn't quick to answer. He draws a skinny leg up and exhales softly, flaring his slightly reddened nostrils. "No," he murmurs.

"Do you want to leave?" Jon asks, forgetting all about the beautiful weather in favour of ensuring his significant other's absolute comfort. If Brady isn't happy, then Jon can't be happy. He's 16 and head over heels. He can't help it.

This time Brady smiles. He cracks open an eye and peers up at an anxious looking Jon. "You dope," he says, pursing his lips expectantly.

It takes a moment to click but pretty soon Jon is leaning forward and granting Brady his lips. The kiss is sweet and chaste and everything it should be for two teenage boys on the cusp of starting a future together. For them, the future is bright and promising but all they really care for is the now and right now, Jon is pretty happy, if a little worried.

"You sure you don't want to leave?" he asks when they part.

Brady wrinkles his nose and reaches for Jon's hand. "Oh, shut up and enjoy this beautiful weather while it lasts. Winter is coming, you know."

Jon smiles a faint smile, nodding his assent. "Winter is coming."

 

[Juno]

[Changed events obvi]

Blast Theon Greyjoy and his needs.

He was currently seated on the aforementioned twit's lap and had been for a good half hour. Every now and then a hand would lewdly grope his arse or even go so far as to try and snake under his shirt to pinch a nipple. Brady didn't protest. On the contrary, he sat there in total silence and endured all these embarrassing tortures of the body. At least Theon wanted him. At least someone wanted him.

The former Stark ward was busying himself with a moderate feast and slowly but surely getting drunk off Dornish wine. Brady could smell the food and it made his stomach churn. The suckling pig looked especially revolting to someone who had lost his appetite ages ago but Brady would still willingly part his lips when Theon held the cup up to him. The wine wasn't to his liking but he knew better than to deny Theon Greyjoy.

Theon's kisses were slippery from the grease and Brady could taste anything and everything his captor had eaten. Some of it bitter, some of it sweet and some far too salty for his liking. But not a word of protest was uttered and Brady kept his seat and his silence.

There was no use in complaining. This was his life now and it had been for over a month. Sometimes, Brady almost wished that no one would come for him. He was but one lost brother of the Night's Watch and a useless one at that. Along with his dignity, Brady had been stripped of all weaponry when Theon had taken him. He had no means of fighting back and he had quickly realised that if he kept it up, he might very well have died. Sometimes, even that didn't seem so bad.

When he really thought about it, Theon was all he had now. Ever since... Well, Brady didn't like to think about that. It hurt too much. All he knew for certain was that a part of him needed Theon a lot more than Theon wanted him. He knew that at the core he was nothing more than a body for Theon to use and abuse as he saw fit but once Brady looked past the superficiality of his situation, he saw a burning desire in his captor's eyes. Theon might have been the scum of Westeros but he still looked at Brady as if he were some truly exquisite dish he wanted to devour. It was both uncomfortable and flattering. No one had looked at him like that since... him.

But he was miles away now and probably in someone else's arms. Brady knew it. He had accepted it. He just refused to think about it.

Which was why he had given in to Theon's lecherous advances. Oh, he had put up quite the fight at first and he had the scars to prove it, but now he was tired. Brady was so incredibly tired of being hurt and sad and betrayed. Theon was horrid, but there was nothing dishonest about his relationship with Brady. They had sex. Frequently. That was all there was to it.

Theon's mouth on his jawline distracted him from his thoughts. Brady didn't respond, only waited for a command.

"Go to my bed chamber. When I return I expect you naked and spread out on the furs, ready for cock."

"Yes, my lord," Brady began, rising to his feet. A sharp slap to his arse had him yelping in surprise. He was still quite sore from his last spanking. He looked to Theon warily, unsure of what he had done wrong this time.

Theon smiled, shaking his head. "You're as stupid as you are pretty, slave. Your Grace."

Brady blinked, bowing his head by way of apology. "Your Grace," he amended and waited until he was dismissed before walking off. The trip to the bed chambers was a short one but he found himself prolonging it for as long as he could. He wasn't in the mood for sex and Theon always went on forever until he was too tired to move. He would be full on his captor's seed by the end of the night.

Closing the door behind him, Brady pulled off his tunic as he approached the bed. There was a warm fire burning in the hearth and the heat of the flames felt good against his aching limbs but it still didn't ease any of his pain. He stripped off his trousers and lay down atop the furs as Theon had instructed. He didn't know how long the wait would be but he knew better than to fall asleep. The last time he had done that... Just thinking about it had him cringing.

One could easily lose track of the time inside these castle walls but he managed well enough. When Theon finally did appear, he looked positively giddy. The slight stumbling of his steps led Brady to deduce that his captor was drunk but there was nothing irregular about that. Theon liked his wine.

At first, Theon seemed to take no notice of Brady and went about tending to the fire to ensure that the flames kept. There was a good deal of rummaging before he finally rested his gaze on the blond, staring in silence.

Brady felt more than naked under that gaze. He felt vulnerable. All the same, he did nothing to hide his shame. Theon was fond of reminding him of how much he enjoyed it when Brady blushed. Like a sweet little maiden, he would say.

The look in Theon's eyes was one Brady recognised very well. He was aroused and ready to rut till dawn, which he would. He approached the bed slowly but with a purpose, pausing in front of him. He placed a hand on Brady's knee and squeezed.

Brady waited.

"Spread your legs. Hold yourself open for me." There was no give to that tone. It was an order and he would be obeyed.

Brady did as he was told. He hooked each of his legs under his arms and held them in place, effectively exposing his arse to the other man.

Theon's look was almost thoughtful as he first studied what lay between Brady's legs and then smiled that signature smile of his. He reached out and fingered the tiny hole, making the blond tense as a result. Naturally this went ignored as he continued to rub his calloused digit over the puckered flesh. "Looks good," he stated in a quiet, calm voice, "Looks so good. So bloody good...so pink...so tight..."

Brady held his breath, biting his lip at the very ticklish sensations currently racking his body. He could already feel his cock beginning to harden due to Theon's blunt swipes and rubbing.

And then Theon was moving to his knees. Within moments he felt his captor suckling softly at his left arse cheek, nipping sharply before licking away the sting. "I bet you like this, huh, slave?" he grinned, "Me kissing your arse."

Brady could only flush with fresh humiliation, choosing not to honour such a question with a response, not that Theon expected one.

"No?" he laughed, still kissing and licking and sucking. He continued to mouth at the soft arse cheeks, working his way over them towards the dark cleft between and Brady went stiff and shook from his position on the bed, earning another laugh from Theon. "You like that, slave?" he whispered between licks, "You like that, you horny twisted sexy little bitch?"

"Oh...ah...mm..." Brady gasped and Theon took that as a "yes."

He continued to explore. The crisp lime scent of whatever soap Brady had used was getting fainter; the musky arousal smell, his male heat smell, was getting stronger. Theon licked and nibbled his way up from Brady's sac to the tight pink pucker just above, and the touch of his lips so near the trembling hole made Brady shudder and moan.

Encouraged, Theon took a longer lick and Brady moaned and squirmed wantonly. Theon stopped, smiled, then he leaned down and did it again, slower this time, making a hot wet circle around the hole.

Brady arched and babbled, nearly dropping his legs in the process.

"I love how you look with your legs spread, your cock bouncing around, your arse cheeks laid open." Theon grinned, nuzzling between them to place sharp little bites along their insides. "Did you know that your hole turns even more pink when it's excited?" he asked, licking warm circles over the hole, "All flushed and wet, like a little pink mouth, it looks like it's trying to kiss me back."

Brady was burning with humiliation now but he was so aroused that he hardly cared. His fingers slipped on his thighs until he found it quite difficult to hold himself in place.

Theon forced his arse cheeks further apart. "That is lovely," he breathed, smiling in that dirty manner of his, "Look at it opening right up for me. Poor little thing. It misses my cock."

Brady could only stare at the grinning face between his legs. He could recall a time where someone else had always asked him of this. To spread his legs out so that they could have their way with him. Only, it had been a lot more tender than this, had it not? What difference did it make. Those days were long gone.

"Shall I tongue-fuck your little boycunt stupid, slave?" Theon inquired, not bothering to wait for a response. He grabbed Brady's buttocks hard and licked all around and over the puckered flesh. His tongue was moving in slow, firm strokes, coaxing it open. Soon he was fucking the hole hard and fast.

Brady was helpless, his whole body jerking and twitching. He knew Theon liked hearing him moan almost as much as he liked getting off but he couldn't have silenced himself if he tried. It was only when Theon replaced a slippery finger in place of his tongue that Brady screamed.

"My lord!"

"Tut," Theon chastised, trailing a hand up the blond's naked chest and pinching his nipple roughly.

Brady jackknifed off the bed and screamed once more. "Y-your Grace," he corrected, cock bouncing with each and every single one of his movements. He was covered in sweat and so flushed he looked feverish. His eyes were wide and moist and desperate.

Theon fingered him slowly, watching with a keen interest how the flesh swelled and stretched and swallowed his digit repeatedly. "I'll tell you this, slave, you're far tighter than any girl I have been with. Look at the way your arse squeezes my finger, like it's hugging me."

Brady groaned, wishing Theon would shut up and get on with it. As if hearing his thoughts, his captor brushed the finger over his prostate and Brady sobbed. "P-please," he begged.

Theon's smile widened and he adapted a look of mock surprise. "Hm? No stretching?"

Brady whined and squirmed, trying to fuck himself on that single finger. If he didn't get to come he would go insane. "Please," he repeated hoarsely, "Your Grace..."

Theon snorted and removed his finger. "As you wish," he replied, promptly rising to undress.

Brady found himself watching in spite of himself. He wasn't overly fond of Theon Greyjoy's face but he had a body he could envy. Broad shoulders and a defined torso. His chest was mostly hairless and often felt smooth under his palms when he clutched blindly at his captor whilst riding him.

Once Theon tugged his trousers down, his cock sprang free and stood to attention. Brady felt no real shame in staring. He had only spent the past month sucking and fucking that very cock like his life depended on it. Well, his life did depend on it.

Theon aligned himself between Brady's legs, tapping the head of his cock against the blond's arsehole with obscene smack after obscene smack. His smile was so lecherous it made Brady's stomach tighten uncomfortably. He bent over and captured the blond's mouth in a stinging, demanding, bruising kiss.

Brady moaned into his captor's mouth. He was certain he would pass out from lack of air but then Theon was pulling away and kissing down his throat. The blond sighed and watched as Theon lifted his legs and placed them atop his shoulders.

He smirked and moved forward. "Let's fuck, slave." And with that, he pushed into Brady and the blond was lost. Their rhythm was harsh and erratic. Theon was relentless in his thrusts, ensuring that he always hit Brady's prostate when he could. Brady didn't think much of it if he came. He knew he would be coming many times that night and would have to accept his fate as an unpaid whore.

Containing his screams wasn't something he needed to worry about. This wasn't Castle Black and he could be as loud as he wanted. In fact, Theon encouraged it and Brady saw no reason to silence himself and so he sobbed and wailed and begged and pleaded while Theon moved inside of him at a rapid pace.

"So hot, so tight," the older man was gasping above him. Brady's legs had begun to squeeze around Theon's neck but he didn't seem to notice or mind for that matter. He just kept fucking Brady straight up to the skies, it would seem.

Had they not been so engrossed in the act, they might have heard the commotion outside of the bedchamber and by the time the door swung open, it was too late.

Theon swung his head around in time to see Jon Snow stalking in, flanked by several rangers of the Night's Watch.

Brady felt his heart stop and winced in pain when Theon pulled out of him. He immediately groped for the furs to try and cover himself up. Faces he knew and had known surrounded him, eyeing him with looks he didn't care to read. Disbelief, pity, disgust. The one face he meant to look at was the one face he couldn't look at.

"The castle is taken, Greyjoy," Jon stated in what Brady knew was his attempt at a calm voice.

Theon scowled and Brady was mildly impressed by how little fear he showed despite being surrounded by enemies. "Is this how the men of the Watch fight? Going to seize me while I'm starkers, Snow? Or would you be kind enough to let me finish buggering your old lover."

Brady had to look up this time and almost wished he hadn't. The fury he read on Jon's face was frightening. He looked back to Theon who had an arrogant smile on his face but it was quickly losing its power. He had known it would be only a matter of time before he was betrayed. The numbers were short and the support even less. Theon Greyjoy could not lead and it was pitiful having to watch him crumble by his own means.

"It's over," Jon continued, clenching his jaw so hard it nearly shook, "If you cooperate, we may allow you to take the black and join our ranks. Otherwise you'll be handed over to Stann-"

"Piss on that," Theon cut in, tugging roughly at the furs and pulling Brady into his arms. He groped for the blond's cock with a smirk and Brady just about died. "Still hard," he tutted, squeezing gently, "Hard for me, Snow. All me."

Jon groped his sword hilt and took a step forward.

"Ah-ah," Theon held his hands up in surrender, "Calm down. He's not yours anymore. Snow. No need to be so cross."

Jon motioned for the rangers to grab him and Theon's smile wavered into a scowl as he was pulled from the bed. "You may think you're a Lord Commander but look around, Snow. Rapists, thieves, beggars... That is what you command. Once a bastard, always a bastard. You're no Robb. You never will be."

Jon did not reply when Theon was dragged off, cursing and struggling.

Brady kept his gaze fixed on his lap. He didn't even have it in him to cover up. His erection had long since died but his shame would remain. He was aware of Jon handing out quiet orders and then the sound of his boots nearing the bed.

Brady clutched at the furs.

"Brady?"

He had no choice but to look up and found himself staring into a pair of misty grey eyes so intense that even now they managed to pull him in. Jon looked grave, far graver than he usually was. The young Lord Commander reached for him and Brady found himself flinching away. He didn't mean to, especially not when Jon gave him the look of a wounded pup.

Strangers. We're strangers.

"Are you hurt?" Jon asked. He was no longer staring at Brady's face now, but the numerous bite marks and bruises littering his chest and thighs.

Brady shook his head. At that moment, Satin came through the door, his raven's ringlets bouncing around his pretty face. He had grown a beard since the last time Brady had seen him, but it didn't take away from his beauty.

Jon's Steward, he thought to himself.

"Satin," Jon called, "Get him some clothing."

"I have clothes," Brady cut in suddenly, briefly glancing at the slightly older young man then back at Jon, "Theon provided me with the black."

"You will not wear Greyjoy's clothes," Jon stated evenly, his voice ripe with anger."

Brady blinked, not bothering to look away this time. "As the Lord Commander wishes."

Jon's anger faded as quickly as it had come. He looked as though he wanted to say more, perhaps even attempt to reach for Brady again. Instead, he nodded and left without another word, his strides swift and forced. The others followed suit, leaving Brady alone with the former whore turned Steward. The beautiful young man who had taken his place. Brady didn't hate him. He was too tired to hate.

"I'll return shortly," Satin explained politely.

Brady didn't respond. He was looking past the Steward's kind face. He wasn't seeing him. All he saw was a bleak, bleak future that he had no choice but to face. He had lost Jon. He had lost Theon. He had lost the respect of his brethren. What was he to do?

Satin seemed to be hesitating and lingered in his spot. He wasn't quite as tall as Brady and had more meat on his bones. He was as dark as the blond was fair and both young men had their own claim to androgyny. Maybe Jon liked his men pretty. Maybe Jon couldn't decide if he preferred blondes or brunettes. Maybe Jon had never cared.

"He loves you," he said, finally breaking the silence.

Brady blinked several times, unsure if he had heard correctly. He fixed Satin with a questioning stare, feeling fatigued enough to collapse. He didn't, of course.

Satin regarded him in silence for a moment before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, pointedly ignoring the way Brady recoiled. He was unusually well-mannered for someone who had once been a whore. Was it inherent... or had Jon taught him? Brady didn't think he wanted to know.

"He loves you," he repeated, "The Lord Commander. He hasn't stopped. You must know that. It's written all over his face."

At first, Brady wasn't sure of how to respond but pretty soon he was smiling bitterly. "Don't speak of things you don't understand," he cautioned weakly.

Satin accepted this rebuke with a nod. It took a moment and then he reached out and took the blond's hand, squeezing it gently and as such, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Brady wanted to wrench his hand away. He didn't want to be touched by this man. He could only imagine what these very hands had done to Jon, what they would continue to do to Jon. And Brady couldn't do anything to stop it. It wasn't his place. It never had been. First Owen, now Satin. He might have known. How long would it be before Satin was replaced as well...?

Satin's eyes were warm and his gaze kind as he studied Brady. "I may not have known love in my short years, but I know it when I see it. The Lord Commander... Jon... Jon loves you. He's half a person without you. You wouldn't know how restless he was without you. He would not stop or listen to reason. All he cared about was bringing you back. And he did. You are safe, Brady."

"But half a person," he whispered in a broken voice. This was awful. He could feel his throat constricting with emotion. He wouldn't break down in front of Satin. He refused.

Satin frowned and squeezed his fingers harder. "Go to him," he urged softly, "Make amends. He needs you."

"He needed an arse," Brady snapped, anger flashing in his normally serene blue eyes, "He has you now."

"No," Satin said firmly, "You're wrong. I... I will not deny that I wanted to be something more but..."

"But what?" Brady asked with a frown.

"I'm not you," Satin finished, "It isn't my name he cries out. Mine is not the face he dreams of. He may give his body to any number of men and women but his heart, his heart belongs to you, Brady. It always has and it always will."

Brady closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear any of this but Satin's words had taken hold and penetrated his mind. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. Jon, his heart cried, Jon, please make it stop hurting. But Jon was neither here nor there. All he had was Satin and his words and for the first time in years, Brady wept. And like a child, he fell into the other man's arms who held his naked body while it shook and shivered.

He would never know that at that very moment, Jon wept with him.

 

[Juno]

[I initially intended to end this with Brady ending up with a girl and Jon and Satin still being together but I knew a certain someone would probably just frown at me so here you are. Tragic Breon and not so tragic Jon/Brady. I dislike how Jon/Satin's relationship worked out but I guess it works for the plot. .__. Not happy with it this at all but w/e]

~​

Theon Greyjoy was fantastically bored. He hadn't known that engagement parties were quite this mundane and even the booze hadn't been all that helpful. It was only when he had commented on livening things up that Jon Snow had sent him a warning about not messing up Robb and Jeyne's special night.

"What's the matter, Snow?" he had taunted, "Can't hold your liquor?"

"The best part of you ran down your father's leg, Greyjoy," Snow had scowled and Theon might have had something else to say if he hadn't shown up, looking absolutely adorable in a dark blazer and loose-fitting slacks that regretfully concealed his perfect legs.

His normally wild hair had been carefully combed and it hung past his slender shoulders in perfect waves of gold. He was chewing his lip nervously and greeting people where he could. Even Snow had stopped his scowling and had been forced to stare. Brady was always a vision. He was just so different.

Theon watched as he approached the recently engaged couple and planted a polite little kiss to Jeyne's cheek. Robb looked quite pleased to see him and Theon had to snort. Everyone knew that Brady didn't do parties. The kid was about as antisocial as one could get.

He had shown up at of respect for Robb, Theon knew. The eldest Stark boy had always been sickeningly kind to Brady, even more so than that bastard Snow at times.

Robb was kind to everyone, well, at least those he thought deserved it, which really made Theon question why he was awarded the status of best friend. Perhaps Robb thought he could rub off on him. He hadn't for all these years. Who knew what Robb Stark's motives were.

His delicate-looking fiancee was currently standing beside him and clutching at Robb's arm like she feared he would disappear if she didn't. It was a little disturbing but not enough for Theon to avoid her.

Jeyne was pretty enough but Theon didn't see anything special about her. She had the personality of a 12 year old girl and spent way too much time clinging to Robb. Theon had a hunch that was one of the main reasons his friend had fallen for her in the first place. She was like his shadow, she depended on him and even made him smile when no one else could. Besides, they fucked. A lot. Theon was surprised she knew how.

"Hey Jeyne," Theon greeted smoothly, allowing his eyes to trail over her slender form, "You sure you don't wanna back out while you still can? I could show you a way better time than Robb ever could. Isn't that right, Robb?"

Jeyne flushed a pretty pink and excused herself to check in with her mother. Theon wasn't all too surprised to find Robb favouring him with a tired look that seemed to say that he didn't feel threatened in the least.

"And when are you gonna settle down with someone, Greyjoy?" Robb inquired, though there wasn't a single note of curiosity in his voice as if he already knew the answer to his question.

"When the bastard marries his whore," Theon replied, blunt as ever.

Robb furrowed his brows and studied Theon like one would study a particularly puzzling map. "At least Jon's happy."

Theon laughed outright, fixing his friend with a look that said it all. "Now I know you know that that isn't true. Snow is never happy. He keeps Satin around to fill whatever gaping void he has in his heart but even his favourite booty call can't do that."

Robb didn't have an answer to that but something about the way he frowned suggested that he agreed with every single word Theon had said. "We're not talking about Jon. We're talking about you and your inability to commit to a brand of toilet paper, much less a person."

"Why do you care?" Theon shot a little more defensively than he had intended. Checking his tone, Balon Greyjoy's youngest and only surviving son ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the nearest chair. "Forget it, Robb. The day I meet someone worth committing to will be the day your brother shits sunshine."

When he looked up, he noticed that Robb wasn't looking at him, but rather past him. Theon followed his gaze and was nonplussed to find himself staring at Brady who looked unbearably cute while pretending to listen to the other Jeyne talk.

Always so polite, Sunshine, he thought.

Theon glanced back at Robb with an exasperated look only to find that his friend was smiling. He scowled. "What?"

Robb stared pointedly.

"What?" he repeated.

Robb sighed and adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket. "I don't get you, Greyjoy. You're so obviously taken with the kid that I don't even know what's holding you back."

"Taken with him," Theon mocked, "What are we living in the 18th century? He's nothing but a tight arse and a hot mouth when I need it. All right? So fuck it and celebrate being a bachelor while it lasts."

Robb regarded him with a look Theon had come to recognise over the years as his 'Greyjoy, you're impossible' look but what came next surprised him. "You're right," Robb relented, "I shouldn't be wasting my time with a lost cause. So if you'll excuse me, I think my fiancee misses me."

"Someone should have told her that fiancee isn't French for Siamese twin."

Robb smiled at that and walked off to find Jeyne. Theon was left alone for the time being and scanned the numerous familiar faces and some unfamiliar. Jon and Satin were still seated on the couch and he wasn't all too surprised to see that the bastard looked uncomfortable. Even Satin looked a little awkward leaning into Snow's side like he was forcing it.

If Theon had been a better man, he might have pitied the both of them. It was clear to him and everyone else that they only stayed together purely out of some misguided sense of right and wrong, and perhaps neither of them really wanted to be alone. He could remember when they first started out, how hard it was for either of them to stay apart and now look at what the years had done to them.

Theon didn't want that to happen to him, which was why he didn't do relationships. It was so simple, he didn't know why Robb didn't get it. Well, he would after he got married. Not that Theon wanted his relationship to fail. In spite of everything, he was rather fond of Robb Stark. They just didn't share the same views and opinions on certain matters. Commitment being one of them.

Theon had committed himself to being a bachelor. But Brady... It wasn't too complicated a story. He had been 16 when Brady had transfered to their school, a year behind and cute as a button. At the time, Theon had never really been with a guy. He liked the look of some of them. Hell, Snow's little whore had been a right temptation but Robb had kept him in line.

Brady had been 15 and shy and so very inexperienced that just the sight of him made Theon's cock ache. He hadn't been the only one. Even Robb had admitted that he was a pretty little thing, if a little gangly. But Theon had called dibs which meant that everyone in the school, including Robb and his bastard brother could not lay a hand on the blond.

Seducing the kid hadn't been hard. Theon had been on the football team with Robb. They sat at the popular table. Everyone knew their names. Even the new kid. And so, he had began a long and torrid affair with Brady that had somehow lasted him up until now and showed no real signs of ending. Theon didn't mind.

He had been watching Brady quietly, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak up on him but even when he found the blond alone, Brady proved unflappable and wasn't at all surprised to find arms snaking around his slim waist.

Theon pressed hungry kisses to the side of his smooth neck. "Boo."

Brady didn't even bother to squirm out of his hold which Theon found a little odd but chose not to comment on. "Not drunk yet, then?" the blond asked with a sigh.

Theon smirked and released him, giving him ample opportunity to turn around before pushing him up against a wall. "Nope," he agreed, "But that could change."

Brady lowered his gaze, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I have to talk to you."

"Later," Theon urged, tucking a strand of blond hair behind Brady's ear. "I've got other things in mind."

"You always have other things in mind," Brady scowled, pushing Theon's hand away, though the tell-tale flush creeping up his neck spoke volumes to Theon. He could tell he was going to win this battle. He always did in the end.

Nevertheless, he decided to play Brady's little game of let's-talk-while-we-could-be-fucking. "Why do you always come back for more then?"

"Because you fight for me," Brady said without any hesitation, but a shadow had crossed his pretty face, "But you don't fight for us."

Theon stared, his face blank. Since when had the mood gone from sexy to tense? Had Brady been spending time with Snow? He was adapting that awful brooding look that only suited emos and goths, not pretty blond boys. "There is no us," he replied flatly.

Brady stared right back, his pale blue eyes narrowing. He was doing that reading thing Theon hated so much. In retrospect, he was just about the only living person who could get away with it. "You don't believe that," he said.

Theon didn't see the sense in arguing with him. Brady might have legally been deemed an adult by the state but he was still a child and would always be a child. It was the way he always came undone under Theon's body, sobbing and groping and pleading like an overgrown baby. It made him feel powerful in ways that being with a woman couldn't accomplish.

Theon shook his head lightly and reached out, tracing his thumb over the outline of Brady's soft lips. He wasn't surprised to find them parting for him and he gently pushed past the plush pair. Brady's mouth was as hot and wet as ever and twice as skilled. He would be. Theon had taught him everything he knew. Years of fucking with the kid had done the trick.

Theon swallowed, watching his thumb disappear between Brady's lips. Gods, he wanted those lips around his cock right now. He gently tugged his thumb out and leaned in so that they almost kissed, but not quite. He was and would always be a tease.

"Let's take this upstairs," he suggested, though with him it was more of a demand.

Brady didn't protest. He never did.

They stumbled up and into one of the many guest bedrooms in Stark manor, kissing and groping and fumbling to get out of their clothes. Theon just barely kicked the door shut and was only a little disappointed to find that it hadn't closed all the way. It didn't matter. He was hardly afraid of getting caught.

As always, Brady was eager and pliant under his touch and his skin was silken smooth against his palms. Theon ordered the blond onto his knees and forced his cock between the petal-soft lips. His groan was appreciative and hoarse as he fucked Brady's pretty mouth slowly. The blond was gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes, lazily stroking his own cock in time with Theon's moving hips.

It was beautiful and erotic and no one could have lasted very long in its wake.

Theon came with in a blinding white haze and emptied himself in Brady's mouth. It was reassuring to know that the kid never spilled a drop of his come, almost as if he craved the taste.

"Gods, what a mouth," Theon commented, cupping Brady's chin and pulling him to his feet for a hard kiss. This time, they worked their way onto the bed and he fell atop the slighter boy with ease, expertly grinding his hips against him.

Sex with Brady was never a dull affair. The blond made the most delicious sounds. His moans and gasps and cries were a giant boost to Theon's already inflated ego and he looked positively ethereal when he was flushed and trembling beneath him. Beautiful. He was beautiful but Theon didn't know how to tell him that. Theon didn't want to tell him that.

He worked his way down Brady's impossibly skinny form, kissing and licking and biting and bruising where he could. Every mark he saw was just another reminder of their last tryst. He knew that Brady didn't fuck around with anyone else. Theon would have liked to think that he was just that satisfying but it was his temper that really helped shape Brady's choices.

He had nearly rearranged Snow's face the one time he had decided to get in on something that was his and his alone. Theon didn't like to share, certainly not with sullen bastards who already had a lot to begin with. If Robb hadn't stepped in and broken them apart, he would have made himself a necklace of out Snow's teeth and forced Brady to wear it.

They hadn't been alone in a room since then, but Theon could read the sexual tension a mile off. It didn't matter. As long as they didn't touch, he couldn't have cared less.

By now he was tongue-fucking Brady's arse furiously, certainly hard enough to make Brady scream with delight. It was the sound of his name, so desperate and hungry that really got him off. Theon could almost taste Brady's need. By the time he found the condom and ripped the packet open with his teeth, Brady was panting like he had run a marathon in a desert.

As much as Theon loved to see that pretty little arse overflowing with his come, these weren't his sheets to dirty and so he would have to settle for being as clean as he could. Sinking into Brady was like sinking into a particularly exquisite dream. He was by far the tightest Theon had ever had and probably ever would.

It was always Theon who set the pace and Brady who followed the best he could. He leaned in and captured one of the blond's hyper-sensitive nipples between his teeth and bit and sucked and licked the fleshy little bud until it was red and swollen.

Brady was weeping and clawing and humping and pleading so much that Theon was almost afraid he would pass out from the strain. His back stung where Brady had broken the skin but it was a good sting. He had clutched the base of the blond's cock tight to keep him from coming. Theon never let Brady come until he wanted him to. That was just the way it worked. He needed to beg very nicely for that privilege.

He was still moving inside of Brady when he heard the voices. He didn't stop, not even when they got closer, but he did listen. Pressing a hand over Brady's mouth to silence him, Theon listened and deduced instantly that the voices belonged to Jon and Satin. He would have recognised that depressive note anywhere.

From the sounds of it, they seemed to be arguing. Well, Jon seemed to be arguing and Satin was more or less disagreeing quietly.

Theon didn't care. He tuned them and their frivolous problems out and returned to focussing on the body beneath him. He removed his hand with a smile, loving how annoyed and apprehensive Brady looked at that moment.

"My apologies, Sunshine," Theon amended with a kiss and then he really began to fuck him. The voices were soon drowned out by the steady slap of their slick bodies meeting and Brady's helpless cries. Theon was very close himself but he had always been freakishly adept at controlling his orgasms.

He leaned in and pressed his moist lips to Brady's ear, gently nibbling at his soft lobe. "Do you want to come?" he asked quietly.

Brady didn't respond right away. It appeared that he was struggling to form words and the sensuous grinding Theon was doing wasn't helping in the least. "Yes," he managed to gasp, "Yes, Gods, yes..."

Theon smirked and continued to roll his hips slowly and in a calculated manner. "Tell me," he ordered calmly, "Tell me what you want." He pulled up just in time to see Brady scowling at him with this erotic look of stubborn defiance that was betrayed by the growing need in his eyes.

He withdrew slowly and thrust in hard, rotating his hips, grinding into Brady. Brady groaned with relief and pushed up as hard as he could. Theon withdrew again; Brady fell back with a curse. "Want...oh!...come...want to c-come..."

Theon's smile widened. "Then ask for it."

Brady shuddered.

Theon moved his hips again, grinding their loins together again, rubbing his cock into every inch of that smooth, shuddering passage. Gooseflesh rose all over the blond's body, and for a moment, he seemed to stop breathing altogether.

"Oh...! P-please...ah!...please m-make me come..." The miserable hunger he heard in that tone was like Christmas having come early.

Another slow rotation, and another, and another, and Theon could feel Brady crumbling even before he heard it, could feel the tremors building against his belly, under his hands, around his own cock.

"What's my name?" he panted above the younger boy, "You haven't forgotten my name, have you...?"

Brady sobbed and tossed his head back, nails digging so hard into Theon's back that they were slipping and sliding over the blood. "P-please...Gods!...please, Theon... Please l-let me come..."

Theon snorted and pressed his nose against Brady's. "As you wish," he whispered and claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss. All it took was a few well-aimed jabs of his cock to Brady's sweet prostate and the blond was coming undone. His arse rippled around Theon's cock and took him along for the ride. They must have heard Brady's cries downstairs but he was too damn spent to care.

And when it was over, he collapsed atop the blond and buried his face into his sweaty neck, trying to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware that Brady was trying to tell him something but Theon didn't rush to hear him out. He only lifted his head once he was more or less under control of himself.

"What did you say?"

"I said I love you, Theon Greyjoy."

Theon's reaction was delayed. It was like getting kicked in the nuts, only this somehow seemed more agonizing because a kick to the sac he could understand. But this? Where in the seven hells had this come from...?

Theon frowned and shifted back to lean his weight on his elbow. "No you don't."

"Yes, I do," Brady explained calmly, looking achingly beautiful in the afterglow of the sex they'd just had, "I've known for a while. I've been waiting for the right time to tell but... I guess there is no right time."

The voices out in the hall had stopped. Theon could hear the faint buzz of music downstairs. It was late summer but the window was open which kept the room breezy enough. Everything seemed totally ordinary and yet, everything was totally fucked. Three fucking words and he had gone from feeling amazing to feeling annoyed.

"No you don't," he repeated and sat up, glancing down at the blond with the frown still in place, "You can't. And in any case, the feeling's not mutual." Harsh, but necessary. Theon wasn't ready for that word and all that came with it. He didn't think he ever would be.

To his surprise, Brady didn't look upset, nor did he argue. He simply lay there, naked and flushed. "I figured as much," he responded with that same air of calm that infuriated Theon, "But it doesn't change how I feel. It just changes everything else."

Theon scowled, quickly tiring of all this. "What are you talking about?"

Brady sat up slowly, looking surprisingly graceful for someone who had just been fucked senseless and rejected all in the span of a few minutes. He pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest, somehow looking even younger than he usually did. "I can't live like this," he replied in a voice that sounded far away.

Theon quirked a brow, feeling somewhat alarmed despite himself. The blond was talking crazy. "Live like what?"

Brady had no response for him this time. He rose to his feet and began to dress in silence. Theon made no move to stop him. He only watched and waited, as if expecting a response to his question any time now. It was only when Brady made to leave that he called after him.

Brady turned around and gave a brief shrug of his shoulders. "It's over, Theon."

"It never started," Theon fired back automatically, feeling angry for reasons he couldn't fully comprehend. When Brady left, he remained where he was for some time. He might even have fallen asleep but he knew Robb would wonder what had happened to him. When he finally returned to the party, he wasn't too surprised to find that Brady was gone.

He would discover later on that Snow had comforted him that night. The very same night Brady had ended their sexual relationship. The very same night Snow had ended his own. After that, they were inseparable.

Theon would have liked to see them being even more mismatched than Snow had initially been with Satin but to his increasing frustration, he only saw them being happy and disgustingly into each other. It made him sick having to see them cling to each other's sides. Snow was always staring at Brady as if he couldn't quite believe he was there and Brady actually held his hand. They fucking held hands. In public.

The others take them and their ruddy happiness.

Theon had assumed that they wouldn't last. That like any other relationship, even they would fail but like always, he was wrong. Like Robb and Jeyne before them, Snow and Brady only thrived over time and their bond appeared to be unbreakable. On the night of Brady's 26th name day, Snow would propose. Theon wasn't stunned when he discovered that the blond had said yes. And yes. And yes again.

He wasn't surprised, but it still hurt.

Or so Theon would think to himself at Robb and Jeyne's 14 year anniversary. The guests had more or less stayed the same with a few new faces and others missing in action. Satin was nowhere to be found but he was too busy modeling and selling his pretty face to the world for an obscene amount of cash. Theon had fucked him a couple of times just to stick it to Snow. The bastard didn't seem to care.

Fuck everything.

Brady and Snow were seated with their hosts, sharing a laugh about something. Over the years, he and Robb had grown apart somewhat but his old friend never forgot to invite him. A part of him almost thought that Robb felt he was doing him favours.

Theon Greyjoy needed no one's pity. He was wealthy in his own right and had a new girl on his arm every week. But what he lacked was everything the likes of Robb and Snow had. They were happy. It was written all over their faces and the faces of their significant others.

Brady was quiet but there was a certain serenity to his eternally youthful face that led Theon to believe that Snow was being good to him. He better be, he thought bitterly. Snow would never be as good in bed as he was. That part he would have bet his life on. But what did it matter? He no longer had the right to make Brady come. He had no hold over Brady at all.

Sometimes, Theon would replay that night in his head over and over again. If he had done things differently, if he had said something, if he had finally admitted to himself and to Brady that he was in love too, maybe he would have been the one sharing a laugh with the Starks with his beautiful husband at his side. Maybe he'd be happy.

14 years hadn't taken the ache away. It had only dulled it into something bearable.

Theon scowled and finished off his wine. Piss on all this. He was going to go out and get really drunk. Then he'd find a pretty brunette and fuck her into the mattress and feel better about everything.

Yes. That sounded doable.

 

[Snow Danger]

 

[Juno]

[but srsly Gabe get in my pants now]

~​

When Gabe was inside of him, Brady forgot that there was such a thing as sorrow. He forgot how to worry. He forgot that they lived in a world so full of danger and sadness that even now none of them understood its purpose. He forgot that he had ever been alone. He forgot about every bad thing that had ever happened to him. He forgot that he was physically broken and emotionally shattered.

When Gabe was inside of him, Brady forgot to breathe.

For all his kindness and worrying, Gabe could fuck. He was a total beast in the sack as Brady had discovered shortly after they had begun to officially date. If it wasn't against a wall, it was on a coffee table. If they had no viable surface, the detective would simply hoist him into the air and hold him in place. And for someone who had never been with another man (and Brady knew these things, he always knew) Gabe was frighteningly good at taking charge.

It had taken him a few weeks where it would have taken anyone else a few years to discover every little thing that made Brady blush and gasp and moan and beg. By the time they were through, Gabe had always left him sweaty and sated and tired enough to sleep peacefully. But that was just one side of the detective.

Brady had always hated foreplay. He hated the idea of having to wait and tease and endure while they could have just gotten to the good part and saved the both of them a lot of time. Sometimes he was too practical, people said. He couldn't very well help it, being who he was. Practicality came with being a bonafide genius.

Gabe had granted him many privileges and adjusted himself to suit Brady's personality and needs. But the romantic in him, that well-masked Don Juan, couldn't be totally silenced and it hadn't been very long before he had taken even more initiative. It had started off small. Sometimes it would take longer for Brady to whine at him and get him to stop licking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Other times Gabe would kiss and grind until Brady was certain he would shoot in his pants. These tiny allowances had slowly escalated into Gabe pinning Brady's wrists down while he left hickeys all over his throat and chest. It still made him blush to recall that one time Gabe had forced him onto his front and groped and smacked his arse-cheeks till they were red and raw.

But it wasn't just the foreplay that had changed. Gabe had gone from fucking him into next week to... Well. Gabe called it making love. Brady called it a colossal injustice and coloured pink whenever his boyfriend professed to wanting to do it again. They still fucked. Brady would have gone insane if they didn't fuck. But Gabe was far too fond of taking things slow and Brady could no nothing but lie there and oblige. Every time Gabe pushed into him, all complaints were forgotten and all he could do was open himself up to the older man. He ceased to be just Brady when they were tangled up in this languid dance as old as time. He was Gabe's Brady and that made all the difference.

Which was where he found himself tonight.

It was early fall and the weather was crisp and chilly but the windows had remained open nevertheless, for the heat in the room was enough to melt anyone.

Brady was spread out on a queen-sized bed, the formally immaculate sheets now wrinkled and sticking to his sweaty back. His head was resting comfortably on a plump, cushy pillow and his hair was fanned out around him, wild and blond and damp.

He was naked and the light of the moon was casting an almost surreal glow to his pale skin. His legs were spread and bent as they curled around the body currently moving between them.

Gabe was thrusting slowly, having propped himself up by his hands which were currently planted on either sides of Brady's body. It was dark in the room, but not quite so dark that they couldn't see each other's faces and Gabe had his blue-grey eyes locked on Brady and refused to budge. Other than his harsh breathing and infrequent low groans, the detective was more or less silent.

The same couldn't be said for Brady who was letting forth little gasps and long-drawn out moans whenever Gabe purposefully brushed his prostate with the head of his cock. His boyfriend was no small man and his flesh had to stretch and strain to swallow him down but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't worth it. Gabe was inside of him and Brady had no intentions of letting him go.

The two lovers were gazing at each other and they moved as one solid being. Brady swayed in time with his boyfriend's moving hips, pushing and pulling, rising and falling. Ever so often he would lift a hand and trail it down Gabe's toned front, both marveling and admiring the deep indents and ridges of muscle. Gabe had a body to die for and had both women and men alike vying for his attention... but he had chosen Brady.

Gabe had chosen Brady.

Brady lifted his head and found Gabe leaning in to meet him halfway for a much-desired kiss. Their mouths locked and sealed, lips gliding and rubbing and caressing in perfect harmony. His boyfriend was swallowing down his moans and cries and soon their slick tongues were dancing for dominance. Brady didn't think there could be a loser in a fight such as this. When they finally parted for air, he was very much aware of how much saliva had gathered between their joint mouths and he licked the taste of Gabe off of his lips with a soft whimper.

Gabe's eyes narrowed in approval and he moved his lips to the side, gently kissing the flesh just beneath Brady's ear before shifting towards his pale throat.

Brady arched automatically to offer the detective better access, quivering at the gentle touch of Gabe's butterfly kisses. Through it all, his boyfriend still rocked with him, driving his cock in deeper and deeper but still not fucking him the way Brady always wanted it. Right now, all he wanted was Gabe and he had Gabe so there was no problem.

He could feel the pressure coiling at his belly. Gabe's thrusts were very precise and despite the slowness of their shared rhythm, every movement was hitting home. He was soaked in sweat and trembling beneath his boyfriend's warm body. He needed to come.

Dropping his hand from its current position around Gabe's neck, Brady tried to reach for his twitching cock and was stunned to find the detective batting his arm away. He went so far as to drag his hand up and pin it against the pillow, linking their fingers tight and squeezing for good measure.

Brady's pale blue eyes widened. "I... I want-"

"I'm gonna make you come," Gabe reassured in his husky, deep voice. His pupils were blown wide with arousal but there was a conviction in his gaze that led Brady to believe him.

He flopped back down onto the bed with a sigh that turned into a strangled cry as he felt a tongue swipe over his incredibly sensitive nipple. He glanced down with bulging eyes and almost wished he hadn't for he could clearly see and feel his boyfriend rolling the tiny bud between his even teeth. Brady wailed and thrashed, squeezing Gabe's fingers hard enough to crack. His other hand fisted the detective's dark hair as he bucked violently.

"Nnng...G-Gabe...!" he cried, his cock twitching again and again with each practiced swipe of Gabe's tongue. His eyes rolled at the back of his head when his boyfriend moved onto the other. "Oh God," he sobbed, the pleasure blinding him into a frightening delirium of no and yes.

Gabe's hips began to move faster now and Brady's foot dug into his boyfriend's arse in an attempt to pull him in deeper. "Yessss," he wailed helplessly, tugging harshly at the short, brown strands in his fingers, "Gabe... Gabe, Gabe, Gabe," he chanted.

His boyfriend's only response was to move faster and suck harder until Brady gave a truly tremendous scream and arched so high off of the bed that he looked as though he would float clear into the sky. His cock spurted forth his young life in violent white bursts and his cries were loud and hoarse. The hand that had formally been ripping the hair from Gabe's scalp now clawed down his back in desperation.

At last, Gabe released his nipple from his wicked mouth and watched, actually watched him come undone with a look of wonder and amazement on his handsome face.

Brady would have felt naked and vulnerable under such watchful eyes but he was too busy losing himself to care. The tight rippling of his arse appeared to shatter Gabe's control and with a helpless groan that was partly muffled into his damp skin, the detective came as well, spilling his seed inside of Brady's hot arse.

No condom. Not tonight.

For a while, they were nothing but a pair of panting dogs who did their absolute best to get themselves under control. It took some time but Brady found himself wincing right along with Gabe when the detective finally pulled out of him. The stream of come that followed his boyfriend's departure had his eyelids fluttering with hot embarrassment but he was too tired to do anything about it.

Brady simply lay there underneath Gabe's furnace of a body, finally coming to his senses once more. His boyfriend was no longer inside of him and the world was what it was again.

Gabe didn't say anything for the longest time, nor did he move. Brady was half-curious to see if he would reach for the tissues in order to wipe the both of them clean and was partially surprised to find his big softie of a boyfriend smiling a shy but utterly beautiful smile.

He pressed tender kiss after tender kiss to Brady's lips until the blond found himself practically melting into a puddle of ecstatic goo. Every time their mouths met, his stomach tied itself into little knots and sent pleasurable jolts throughout his body that made him feel stupidly happy.

With one final kiss to his forehead, Gabe slid off of him. The departure wasn't long-lived as Brady soon found himself being tugged into the warm comfort of his boyfriend's strong arms. He rested his wearied head against Gabe's sweaty chest, finding himself completely soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. Slow and steady, just like their lovemaking.

"You want me to close the window?" Gabe asked quietly while his fingers rubbed soothing patterns into Brady's naked back. "Is it too cold?"

Brady shifted and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's chest. "You move, you die."

He heard Gabe chuckle softly but was too tired to get a read. He was aware of everything again. The good and the bad but he was slowly beginning to realise that when he was with Gabe, nothing else really mattered. All he had to worry about now was getting to sleep and if he knew his boyfriend (which he did) he knew he'd be waking up to a hot meal and a kiss.

Life wasn't perfect but for the first time in a long time, life was good.

 

[Juno]

[These two are just perfect I can't D: <333]

~

~

~​

They appeared the portrait of serenity. Hadley's normally styled curls were mussed and falling in his eyes but he didn't seem to notice. He was too busy focussing on his brother's hands. The imitation of those beautiful hands had filled his sketchpad and he had memorized what they looked like by now, but the contrast that the linking of their fingers created had him wishing he could capture this image as well.

Blake's fingers were long and slender and pale, whereas his were short and slightly more tan. They were both fair of skin but Blake's curls were short and a beautifully fiery shade of auburn that matched the hair on his face. His eyes were bright and blue and everything about him from his head down to his toes was tall and slim. Hadley, on the other hand, was shorter and may even have been described as stocky at one point if not for the significant weight loss. The face that had once been rounded had narrowed considerably which only added to the resemblance between him and Blake. Hadley had curly hair as well but his was a dark brown that appeared almost black. The same could be said for his eyes and despite the beard he insisted on growing, he always looked about four years younger than he really was. They were completely different in every way but the similarities were as solid and real as the surname they shared.

The Turners.

He had spent the last 15 minutes basking in Blake's tender kisses and gentle touch. They never really went beyond that. There had been that one night where Blake had stripped down to boxers and a wifebeater. Of course, the result had been the same. Hadley wasn't looking to rush things. He liked lying in Blake's arms, listening to him breathe. It was familiar and peaceful in ways only they could fully grasp.

Blake was pressing the tips of their fingers together and quietly counting out each digit with an added comment every now and then that would force a smile to Hadley's face. Every time his fingers curled in response to Blake's touches, the auburn-haired young man would grin and poke Hadley's nose in order to get him to smile again. He would have liked to say that he only did it for Blake'e benefit but that would have been a half-truth. Surprisingly enough, he didn't have to force anything. He smiled because Blake made him happy. It was as simple as that.

He liked that even though his life was a veritable mess of complications and failures, every moment spent with Blake was simple and so devoid of negativity that he may as well have been existing in a bubble. He did, in a sense. Blake's love was the perfect shelter where nothing and no one could get to him. Whatever failing grasp he had on societal morals somehow fizzled out into nothing when Blake wrapped him up in his arms. They were brothers. The relation might not have been one bound by blood but they were brothers in every sense of the word, but somewhere along the line, they had become so much more.

What had started with a simple kiss, impromptu but sweeter than anything he could remember experiencing in his short, miserable life had turned into the most profoundly significant relationship he had ever had. Blake was his best friend and perhaps the only family he'd ever need but these days he was... He was a lover and he made Hadley feel things he probably had no business feeling. But Hadley was childishly needy and selfish and he didn't dare push Blake away, not when he wanted this as bad as he did.

Blake had never let him down. He was a young paramedic with everything to gain and a whole world of possibilities ahead of him. He could have been out there having the time of his life but every night, without fail, he would come home and take care Hadley. He didn't want to think about the number of outings and parties and dates Blake had turned down with Hadley in mind. Work exhausted him but Blake never allowed himself to rest until he was convinced that Hadley was content. Every panic attack and every fear and every worry had been chased away by Blake when he really had no obligations to anyone but himself.

Hadley recognised that his brother was a saint. He had only been saving his life from the first that they met. He was the father and the mother and the brother and the best friend that Hadley so desperately needed and now he was a lover too. He would never be able to thank Blake for all that he had sacrificed for him. He worked extra hours and practically murdered his social life just to care for a grown man whose own parents had kicked him to the curb.

They were step-brothers and yet, Blake had never allowed him to remember it. It had to have been love, Hadley often mused, that led Blake to do what he did. He could never deny that he was loved. Heck, he was reminded every night when Blake would show up with takeout and a smile. Blake always looked tired and yet, he always had a smile for Hadley and it was a beautiful smile.

Blake could have had any girl that he wanted and sometimes Hadley feared that this new found relationship of theirs was his brother's idea of settling. But then Blake would slip his arms around him and press their noses together and Hadley forgot all about his worries. Blake loved him. Why did anything else matter?

"Hadley?"

Pulled from his thoughts, the younger of the Turner brothers lifted his gaze and favoured Blake with a questioning look.

Blake didn't reply right away. Instead, he brought Hadley's hand to his lips and kissed the tip of each finger. He could feel the ticklish sensation of his brother's beard hairs against his skin and felt another smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"All right?"

Hadley nodded slowly, chewing his lower lip purely out of habit. The room was a little stuffy considering how often he was in there but they had shed most of their layers and he felt comfortable. It was more than enough.

Blake reached out and brushed his thumb over Hadley's long, dark lashes. He leaned forward and rubbed their noses together before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip, forcing Hadley to wiggle it as a result.

The grin on his brother's face was radiant as he traced Hadley's lower lip. "You're really too cute, you know that?"

Hadley's initial response was to glare which only added to Blake's boyish mirth. He quickly adapted a mock look of repentance and continued on defensively. "Oh, sorry. I meant devilishly handsome. You'll have to excuse me, bro. Can't think straight when I'm aroused."

Hadley widened his eyes at this bold revelation and found himself snorting at his brother's flippancy. He shifted until he had his face buried into Blake's rising and falling chest. "Shut up," he mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, boss," Blake replied at once and fell into a dutiful silence.

Hadley was almost surprised by how long said silence lasted. He had just begun to slip into a peaceful slumber when he heard Blake's voice cut through the silence, causing him to stir grumpily.

"Hadley?" he whispered.

"What?"

"I love you."

He lifted his head and stared at his brother, wide awake once again. Blake was still grinning at him in that adorable, boyish way of his that always made his heart skip a beat. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and before he could stop himself, a big stupid smile had begun to spread on his face. Before he could read his brother's reaction, he dropped his head back down and hid it in Blake's chest, mumbling mutinously.

To Blake's credit, he was doing his absolute best not to laugh but Hadley could feel his chest heaving with the effort. He cleared his throat and swallowed loudly. "Aha. I'm sorry, what was that?"

Hadley kicked his feet onto the mattress. "Go to sleep," he half-ordered, half-requested.

Blake did laugh then, but it was more of an amused chuckling if anything. Hadley felt his brother's lips press to the top of his head and then the comfortable weight of covers being tugged over his body. Blake had nothing more to say and they lay in silence until his brother's breathing pattern slowed to one that revealed him to be asleep.

Hadley lifted his head for a second time that night and stared at his brother's slumbering face. He looked so peaceful and undeterred by life's hardships and Hadley felt a strong wave of affection wash over him. Smiling, he pressed a gentle kiss to his brother's still and slack lips.

"I love you too," he whispered at last. It may have been a delayed response, but he meant it with all his heart.

 

[Juno]

[You probably shouldn't take this story seriously... And I didn't know how to end it. Sue me. D:]

~​

He had been inside of her too many times to count by now. So many times, in fact, that her cunt had started to feel like a glove for his cock. It felt like home though it wasn't nearly as chilly as Winterfell. More like the hot springs that kept Winterfell warm. Or life in the Summer Isles as he had heard. The point was, she was tight and wet and hot and all his.

She was beautiful, a little taller than average but short enough to keep him from questioning his manhood. Her build was slender with a waist so tiny he might have been able to fit both his hands around it. Her olive skin spoke of her Salted Dornish ancestry but it was her eyes that were probably the most remarkable of all. Big and blue, they shined like misplaced sapphires buried in a vast desert.

She had come to Jon a maiden on the run. At first, Jon had meant to turn her away and continue on but something about the way she had looked at him with such hope had shattered his defenses. He had forgotten all about Stannis and his duties and provided her with a hot meal and a bed. What followed that had not been planned.

She had kissed his hand out of simple gratitude and Jon had felt both uncomfortable and astonished by this odd custom. Looking back, he supposed the blame lay on both of their shoulders and while a day didn't go by where he wasn't plagued by guilt, Jon had still kissed her. First on the mouth and then her womanhood. After that, taking her had been easy. Again and again... and again.

Mariah was her name. It was a name he found himself dreaming of almost as often as he dreamt his warg dreams. It was difficult to discern which dreams disturbed him the most but he had no control over it. Even as Lord Commander, Jon had discovered that he had little control over anything.

What Jon liked most about her was just how similar they were. She shared in his awkwardness though he had claimed her virginity many nights ago. Every time he took her it was like reliving a crucial rite of passage over and over again. She still bit her plush lower lip and averted her gaze whenever he moved to undress her, as if she couldn't bear the sight of her own nakedness. At times, he almost felt guilty for taking her but then he would bury himself deep inside of her and all doubts were quelled.

She was lovely, the way she writhed and arched and chanted his name as if she had never experienced something quite so divine. Jon loved the smell of her. It was a sweet scent, and more subtle than overwhelming. He loved the taste of her and how the salted wetness would linger on his lips after he went down on her.

He loved how her breasts pushed up against his chest whenever he lifted her into his arms as she rode out the last of her orgasm. They weren't particularly big but they felt soft in his hands and even softer in his mouth. Her nipples were adorably small and he had once had the gall to comment on them, almost wishing he hadn't. The manner in which she had blushed and looked away in shame had him struggling for an apology. He hadn't, of course. He was the Lord Commander.

He knew that what he was doing was wrong but the gods help him he couldn't stop. Mariah never tried to seduce him, nor did she ask much of him. There were forces at work that neither of them could control. There were nights where he would summon her for a word and then find himself pushing her onto his bed and fucking her till she screamed herself hoarse.

Every since Ygritte, Jon has sworn to himself that he would never again find comfort in the arms of a woman. He had done what he had done under orders and even the beauty of Val hadn't turned him from his path of righteousness. But Mariah... Jon didn't know what it was about Mariah. She wasn't fierce or capable like Val or Ygritte. She was a child. A child trying desperately to be a woman. A child he felt compelled to take care of.

And when next she came to see him, Jon didn't utter a word as he undressed her and eased her onto his bed. He took careful notice of how she kept her legs lodged tightly together and only relented when he guided them open. Her sex was bare and small and intoxicating. He didn't mean to stare so, certainly not with her anxiously chewing her fingernails till they bled, but he couldn't quite help himself. He loved the sight of her womanhood and perhaps this was terribly arrogant but he loved that no one other man had ever known her. He had been her first and he had the blood-stained sheets to prove it.

He ran a calloused finger over her soft folds and glanced up when she shivered and gasped. Her nipples were already hard, whether it was from the cold or her arousal, he didn't know and didn't really care. Her long, black hair hung down her back in gorgeous waves and her cheeks were flushed a lovely red. The flames danced in her bright blue eyes and her full lips were parted just wide enough to allow liberal amounts of air to pass.

Beautiful. Too beautiful.

When Jon brushed over her clit, she cried out and grasped his hand. Her regret was instantaneous and Jon had the good sense to look apologetic though he did not stop. "Does it feel good?" he asked after a long pause.

Mariah blushed with fresh embarrassment as if answering the question was too much. She did end up nodding eventually and soon she released him from her hold and resigned herself to enjoying the moment. She did enjoy it.

Jon trailed his hand down her silken-smooth thigh. The olive tone of her skin created a beautiful contrast against his own marble hue. Jon was still fully clothed himself and had decided only recently that it would remain this way. Tonight would be different. Tonight he simply wanted to watch and pleasure and watch some more. Poor Mariah wouldn't have a clue.

She was very wet by now and Jon felt satisfied knowing that he always got there eventually. It was never forced between them. This just meant that she wanted it just as badly as he did and Jon would give it to her because he was young and she was beautiful and they desired one another. It felt good to be desired again. Especially by one so lovely as she.

He looked up and saw that she was now biting her finger as if that would somehow help keep her quiet. Jon found this strangely endearing and was forced to smile a very small smile that only briefly reached his eyes before fizzling out. "You are beautiful," he remarked quietly, not once taking his gaze off of her, "Mariah."

The smile she gave him was shy but far more genuine than his own. He felt his affection for her growing on the spot and longed to say something. Knowing that words often betrayed him (for he knew nothing), Jon dipped his head between her long legs and inhaled her sweet scent. It made him feel dizzy with lust and before long, he was pressing his lips to her sex and kissing it as if it meant to kiss back.

The reaction he got was marvelous for Mariah bucked almost violently and tossed her head back with a loud cry. Her legs tightened around his skull for a moment before loosening and falling back onto the bed.

Jon made no response and sealed his mouth to her cunt. He flicked his tongue over her clit, relishing in the delicious noises she was making almost as much as he did the taste of her. Wanting more as he always did, Jon held her most sensitive of spots between his clever lips and sucked until she was screaming his name like she meant to die. Jon hummed around his mouthful and was rewarded with a sharp tug to his dark curls. If he wasn't currently eating the girl out, he might have smiled again.

By now, Mariah had forgotten all about feeling shy and was lifting her slim hips and pushing her sweet, sweet cunt forcefully into his mouth until Jon was seeing stars and tasting the nectar of the gods. He released her clit with an obscene smack and promptly shoved his rigid tongue deep inside of her. The steady schlick, schlick, schlick sounds of his skilled muscle fucking her meshed well with her helpless cries.

She went from trying to rip the hair from his head to squeezing her own breasts to wrapping her legs so tight around his neck that he feared he might choke. "Yes," she begged/encouraged/chanted, "Yes, Jon, yes more. Nnn, don't stop."

He had no intentions of stopping. Not until she came which didn't seem far off considering how much she was trembling. Jon licked up and down her folds and sucked at her clit until it began to swell and he was certain he knew what was about to happen. Moving his mouth off of her quickly, Jon stuck two fingers inside her and watched her curse him to the seven hells and back.

Jon didn't mind. He grasped her by her hair and pulled her forward as he fingered her furiously. Their feverish foreheads met and he felt her warm breath hit the skin of his face as she gasped and garbled and continued to call his name as if he wasn't even there.

Jon studied her lovely face, enjoying the way she gazed back at him with an almost worshipful look in her beautiful blue eyes. It was wrong in so many ways for him to encourage this sort of behaviour but tonight it felt right and Jon wasn't going to stop for anything or anyone.

"Jon," she gasped, rocking her hips in time with his fingers, "Gods, Jon, please I can't..."

Jon understood. He removed his fingers with haste and replaced them with his mouth. He was relentless in his oral onslaught, sucking and licking and fucking until she was reduced to nothing more than a shrieking harpy. Jon allowed her to tug at his hair, he allowed her to shove her cunt so deep into his mouth that it might have permanently sealed itself there, he even allowed her to choke him close to unconsciousness with her long legs. Through it all, he watched and waited and then it happened.

Mariah gave a memorable shudder and arched her lovely body with an inhuman scream. Jon felt her walls clench repeatedly around his tongue and nearly soiled himself in the process. Her wetness quickly filled his mouth and Jon Snow was overwhelmed by the taste. Only after she had fallen back onto the bed did he remove himself and swallow what had gathered.

His lips felt hot and overworked but gods it had been worth it. She was still coming down from her high when he kissed his way up her slim body. Her taut stomach to the space between her breasts right up to her red lips. He kissed her and delighted in the little 'mmph' she offered in response.

Oh, Mariah. Sweet, sweet Mariah.

When they parted, Jon found her gazing up at him with a look of wonder in her eyes. He smiled a gentle smile and caressed her naked body. "What is it?"

She licked her lips nervously, making it very easy for him to read the uncertainty in her eyes. "What about you?" she finally asked.

Jon raised his brows thoughtfully, almost touched by her concern and generosity. Or perhaps it was just lust. "Not tonight, Mariah," he explained in his husky voice, "But I will think of you."

 

[Juno]

[Some Jatin at last. O:]

~​

In the end, Jon had chosen Satin.

The heart wants what the heart wants, Brady had said and after that, the decision hadn't been all that difficult to make. He had gone to Satin and wordlessly taken him into his arms and apologised because he was confused and burdened and so very weary of... everything but he wasn't about to lose the one good thing he could call his own. And it was only when the beautiful youth had secured his own arms around Jon's shuddering form that the Lord Commander began to relax at last.

That had been a month ago.

He had sent Brady off as the new recruiter for the Night's Watch, his reasoning being that the boy had the fortitude and was fair of face and could easily have swayed men and boys alike with tales of valour and the flashing sincerity in his pale blue eyes. Deep down, Jon only meant to distance him from himself.

The parting had been mutual and painless, or so Brady made it seem. Jon hadn't heard him utter a peep ever since the night he had told him that he could no longer pretend. The former Steward had went about his days normally which Jon had found most disturbing of all. He knew it was what he had intended but perhaps it wasn't what he had wanted. It was a shameful thing for him to feel angered that Brady was taking everything so well and Satin had seen through his crumbling defenses.

Dearest Satin, he made these cold nights so much more bearable. With Dolorous Edd sent off, Jon had appointed Satin the position of being the Steward to the Lord Commander which had angered many of the brothers but Jon wasn't there to please the likes of them. Perhaps it was a little selfish but Satin was a good man and a good Steward at that. He saw to his every need. Every need.

Satin warmed his bed often enough. Jon didn't like to bring attention to the fact that Satin had once been a whore for the men did it often enough, but there was no denying that the years his lover had spent in the brothel worked in his favour. And Jon's.

Satin made him come alive in ways Brady had never been able to accomplish. He supposed he couldn't really blame the boy. He had been just as inexperienced as Jon at the time but a part of him had always remained that way. Satin was another matter entirely. He was bold and demanding and made Jon ache in places he didn't even know he could ache. His mouth worked like magic and his hands were so very knowing. And Gods, the way he moved. He had put Jon under his spell and the Lord Commander never wished to shake it.

Satin's skin was almost too soft to belong to a man and he was slender in all the right ways where Brady had been thin and sickly. His eyes were remarkably dark and often twinkled whenever Jon kissed him. Though there was nothing shy about him, Satin was still capable of tenderness and would hold Jon in his arms after they made love and simply listen while he spoke. Perhaps that was what Jon liked best about him. Satin listened.

He had become Jon's peace of mind and without him, the young Lord Commander knew that he would have been lost.

Months later, when Jon would discover Brady's desertion and feel forced to make an example, it wouldn't be his late father's words that would comfort him.

"If you take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you can not do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."

"Promise me that she'll be looked after," Brady had said and Jon's gaze had nearly wavered as he thought back to the sight of the recruiter's deceased mother. How easily Kevan had dismissed him and even the achingly beautiful young girl who had taken the blond for a husband. The trust in her eyes. The pain. Jon had been given no choice. He had taken her husband from her and all he could think about was Jeyne and how he had never known her. Robb must have loved her to risk so much. Was that not why they as men did these things? For love?

"What is honour compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms...or the memory of a brother's smile?"

Words. Words always haunted him. It was his words as Lord Commander that had condemned Shana and Nelly and Brady to their fates.

And with that, Jon had lifted his sword and ended a life.

It was only in the privacy of his own quarters that Jon had broken down and wept. The boy hadn't uttered a word when the blade sliced through. It was an even cut. A quick and painless death but the finality of it tore at Jon's soul. He would never regret the choice that he had made, but in the end, he had only lost another friend... another brother.

He had only been vaguely aware of Satin's presence but then the Steward had taken him into his arms and Jon had cried into the raven's curls until he could cry no more.

"I know," Satin had said soothingly, "I know. But it won't always hurt, Jon. It won't always hurt."

And even though Jon had felt as though his heart would never mend, he had believed him. Somehow, Satin had forced his way past the pain and numbed the hurt until Jon could face the world once more.

Jon had wiped his face and pressed his forehead to his lover's, simply allowing himself to breathe in his life. Satin's very aura was far more calming than anything he had ever known. At long last, he had pulled away and asked but one thing of the Steward.

"Bring me his bow," he had requested.

And Satin understood.