mess me up so good [asoiaf; gerris/quentyn, r]

The sparring session is more of a war-challenge than a friendly spar between two perfectly capable knights. Quentyn would have felt sorry for Cletus’ awkward rambling about ground rules, deaf in the ears of either knight, if he is not the ultimate prize for the winner in this stupid challenge – of sorts.

Really, it is all Arianne’s fault. He looks behind his shoulder, searching for Arianne’s dark brown eyes, definitely twinkling with mirth by now, finds nothing. Maybe she is too satisfied from breaking out to fits of improper laughter in the court this morning, after Ser Arthur has offered him his help on teaching Quentyn how to sharpen his swords on his own, the corner of his lips tugged in a suggestive manner.

A faraway bell rings, drawing his attention back to present. On the corner of the field, right outside the armoury, Gerris strides back and forth, testing the weight of one wooden sword to another. Bright golden eyes lift to meet his own, and Quentyn inhales sharply then looks away.

Or maybe not, he thinks, frustrated as flashes of memories from this morning – Gerris’ loud snort in the dining table, his too ‘subtle’ hateful scowl, Ser Arthur’s questioning brow – invades his mind. Arianne had already started laughing when the verbal fight ensued, so Quentyn is not really sure.

“Well then,” Cletus announces on the middle of the field. Ser Arthur marches in first, his flowing golden hair an attractive sight compared to Gerris’ curly sandy blonde ones, sharp-looking wooden sword sliding through his fingers. They glower at one another for a heartbeat, until Cletus leans back on his heels, voice screeching “Begin!” before anyone is prepared for what happens next.

Gerris charges forward, hard and sudden, graceful and calculated like the royal arrogant sod he is. He thrusts his sword without hesitation, blocks each attack with elegance most knights are lacking these days, spins around in circle after each merciless attack.

Ser Arthur is obviously exhausted, incapable of handling Gerris on his own. Something like pride swells deep inside his chest, warm and hyperactive under his skin. Quentyn ignores the whispers of ‘mine’ inside his head as he watches, a small smile lilting his face.

But then the worst happens. It has to happen due to Gerris being the arrogant smug bastard he is, has to look at Quentyn on the corner of his eyes then gives him an arrogant charming smirk and the opening Ser Arthur needs to throw him on his back.

The sword hangs low above Gerris’ left hip before it hits him hard, sending him tumbling back across the field. He tries to counter the sword, block the attack like it was before, only to have the sword thrown a few miles away from his hand. Ser Arthur’s foot is on his chest then, the tip of the sword touching the nape of Gerris’ neck. Quentyn’s stomach lurches in disgust at the smile on Ser Arthur’s face.

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too late, a revelation [asoiaf; archie + gerris/quentyn]

It’s not like he doesn’t notice at first, the mood-swings, the empty stares, the flat yet rather murderous tone of his voice, full of edges he can’t quite put a finger on. While some people have marked him as ‘dumb’ simply because he prefers not to use his head processing unnecessary details his companions can do in a shorter amount of time, Archibald is not so stupid as to think that Gerris remains unscathed, perfectly fine after Quentyn’s death. He and Cletus are probably, possibly the closest people the Prince of Dorne had, has, will ever have. But sometimes, things are not like the way they look on the surface.

They put a stop at a nearby brothel just outside Sunspear, nearly collapsing into the realm of unconsciousness after hours of travelling from the harbour – by foot. Gerris is obviously hurting both physically and mentally. His smooth lightly-tanned skin is blazing red, sunburn marring the exposed skin of his neck, the worst one so far is the condition of his nose. He keeps moaning and bitching and typical Gerris-ish all the way here, and for a fleeting moment, Archibald thinks that perhaps he is alright. Perhaps it’s just Archibald going soft, overreacting things due to his mind finally put to work after such a long time.

His second theory of Drinkwater being alright is proven wrong however, approximately three minutes later.

Archie puts the big fat purse of dragons on the counter, dangling it in front of two fair-skin whores with their breasts slipping from their clothes. Their eyes are greedy for nothing but the price in an instant. Now, while Archibald is not big on sharing or anything, Gerris has naught on his pocket. He has insisted on spending his share of wealth to take passage from the Free Cities back here, paying for Archie even though it’s clearly unnecessary, leaving them a large amount of gold to spend on whores and food and wine.

Well, only food and wine for Gerris at least. It’s a miracle he hasn’t thought once, not once did he speak of the soft caresses of a whore’s hands or the way their mouths feel wrapped around his cock. Archibald doesn’t care, usually, doesn’t mean he is not grateful for the deafening silence. His suspicion years ago involving Gerris and Quentyn is confirmed when a rather beautiful boy, around Quentyn’s age, complete with the dark black colour of Quentyn’s hair and the blue eyes. These ones are not as intense as Quentyn’s, he notes.

Gerris wraps his fingers around the delicate skin of the boy’s wrist when he passes. The boy halts, flusters visibly at the searching look on Gerris’ face, squirming uncomfortably when the knight leans closer until their faces are inch apart. He seems quite unsure, the boy. Until Gerris closes his eyes and whispers something into his ear.

He doesn’t want to know what kind of dirty words his friends are giving to whores when they’re planning to fuck, really he doesn’t. But now he is sort of, like really curious as of what Gerris says, because the boy scowls at him now, all sharp teeth and glare-daggers, and the knight’s grin is feral and slightly crazed.

To his surprise, the boy crushes their lips together in a scorching kiss, hips bucking violently against Gerris’ breeches-clad thigh, one hand slipping inside Gerris’ pants. Eurgh. Too much information. Archibald raises his drink up in salute as the girls start working on his lap.

Much later, when he finally decides to take Gerris back on the road, Archibald pauses in front of the boy’s room and listens.

Gerris seems to be having the time of his life, fucking the boy like that. He fucks his cock into the seemingly tight nicely-shaped-round of the boy’s ass, marking the sweat-sex-stained of the boy’s pale neck, fisting the boy’s red-angry leaking cock with his free hand. The boy kneels down on all-fours; face that of pure unadulterated pleasure as Gerris pounds into him so deep Archibald thinks he might finally come, until he realizes that the knight’s fist around the boy’s ball is on purpose, solely not to get him come first. It must be a torture for the boy. Archibald pities him more than anything else.

When he finally comes though, Gerris whines and chokes a needy longing whimper of ‘Quentyn’ from his kisses-swollen lips, and it all clicks. The shared-cabin. Sword-practices in the middle of the night. Visiting brothels together when they’re probably off, fucking, somewhere.

Things are clearer now, and Archibald isn’t sure who to pity more – the boy or Gerris himself.

*flails* Quentyn porn for me :DDDDD ? ASDFGHJKL letmeloveyou.gif *sneaks off to read* This is why I like tumblr, people randomly gives you porn on your birthday :D (I think I remember this one a while ago, never got around to reading it so thanks)

haha, yeah, wrote it but never got the chance to actually put it up. so yeah. hope you’ll like it; it’s bloody long but the sex like, totally worth my time, yea? xD

ME NEED MORE GERRIS/QUENTYN PORN KAY

write ALL the Quentyn things :3

I AM PLANNING TOO. JUST THAT I CAN’T STOP WRITING SLASH-PORN-ISH-QUENT. I’M SO SORRY ASSIEE

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAYYY :DDD tis for ya: http://archiveofourown.org/works/505564

I am so on the SS Jon/Satin, I just can’t think of anything to write for them. So if you want to see anything from me, for them, prompt away bb!

ohooo, then lemme join the ss and sail all across the world with their hotness *q* can’t get enough of ‘em. and i don’t mind anything really; even with the most cliche of story about them (which happens to be sex + blowjobs inside jon’s room but can’t complain since all of them are so hot).

if youre like, uhm, into reading some sorts of s&m thing, i wouldn’t mind though >///> or something fluffy like satin is shamelessly trying to get jon’s attention until jon finally, finallyreciprocates the approach will be amazing too ;3

so. my ship is so unpopular it’s like, only two other people ship it.

get on board for ss gerris/quentyn & ss le jon/satin.

like, please? need some gaysmut here guys.