Thread: Que Sera, Sera (random fics)

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.