Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/772211.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Renly_Baratheon/Loras_Tyrell
  Character:
      Renly_Baratheon, Loras_Tyrell
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Gay_Relationship, Period-Typical_Underage, Underage_Sex, First
      Time, References_to_Homophobia, Possessive_Behavior, Jealousy, Rimming,
      Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Love_Confessions
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-24 Words: 4131
****** just kids in the eye of the storm ******
by arianne-of-porne_(allnuthatchforest)
Summary
     When Loras gets angry about Renly's visit to a whore, it forces their
     unspoken desire for each other to come to light.
Notes
     I had originally just planned on writing Renly sleeping with Satin
     while visiting Oldtown, but because I felt like writing a Renly/Loras
     first time story instead, this happened, with what happened after
     Renly visited a whore who may or may not be Satin. I'll probably
     write Renly/Satin someday, since I've written Satin with pretty much
     everyone else. The title comes from "Daniel" by Bat for Lashes.
When Renly arrived back at Hightower it was just past eight, and the Great Hall
was full of dancing and singing and revelry. As he strolled through he saw
Garlan and his betrothed dancing a Myrish galliard, Margaery telling a story to
three adoring little Hightower cousins, and Willas engaged in some lively
debate with Lord Leyton, but there was no sign of Loras anywhere.
“Looking for dear Loras?” Humfrey Hightower nearly crashed into Renly, an
elaborate chalice full of wine sloshing in his hand. “He’s gone up to bed. No
doubt ashamed to show his face before me after I nearly unhorsed him this
afternoon. I ought to start calling him Wobbles.” The maid at his shoulder,
whom Renly recognized as Lord Ambrose’s bastard daughter Emmara, giggled behind
her hand.
“Nearly?” Renly smiled. Humfrey, sixteen and freshly knighted, reminded Renly a
bit of his brother Robert, with his barbed tongue and his love of maids and
drink. And, like his father Lord Leyton, he didn’t seem to like Renly much,
despite his best efforts to charm. It was why he’d excused himself early this
afternoon to wander the streets of Oldtown and see the sights, though Lady
Alerie insisted Loras remain with the family. “If we can be named for the
things we nearly succeed in doing, I ought to call you after this maid. But
that would be unkind.”
Emmara’s eyes went wide, and Humfrey’s smile froze.
“I fear that was unkind already, Lord Renly,” Emmara said. Ser Humfrey grasped
her arm and muttered something to her, and she laughed again before they spun
away towards one of Humfrey’s loud friends.
It was not like Loras to be abed so early, Renly thought. Usually he would be
training with the Master at Arms until well past dusk, or, if there were
company, he would drink and jest and ask the singer for songs, rarely allowing
anyone else to get a request in.
His and Loras’s sleeping quarters were in the third-to-highest floor of the
tower's residential section. As he ascended the stairs he stopped from time to
time to look out the windows at Oldtown, still burning bright across the water;
the many bridges that spanned the Honeywine like loose stitches were lit by
glass lanterns that gave the river a samite shimmer, and the outlines of the
manses and guildhalls glowed against the skyline. Last night Loras had stood at
one of these windows with him and pointed out his favorite buildings. It
surprised Renly to learn that Loras liked the Citadel so much, since except for
poetry he largely disdained books, but he liked it even better than the Starry
Sept, better than Hightower itself.
I’ve heard there’s a dragon in there, Loras had said, and he sounded like an
excited child. The only dragons are in here, Renly replied, tapping against
Loras’s skull. I didn’t think you cared about dragons anyway. I thought your
favorite story was the one about the Storm God.
Have I betrayed you? Loras turned to him with a sweet, wicked smile. Have I
angeredmyStorm God? Will I feel his wrath now?
And Renly had growled and lifted Loras over his shoulder, Loras pounding at his
back and kicking his chest and laughing breathlessly.
Renly was a bit breathless himself by the time he got up to their quarters.
“I’m going to sleep,” he told the servant in the solar. “I won’t be needing a
bath, and you can put the lights out in here, if you please. I’ll put out the
fireplace myself.”
There was no sign of Loras when he entered the sleeping chamber until a lump on
Loras’s bed moved.
“I’m sleeping,” said Loras’s muffled voice.
“Obviously,” said Renly, smiling.
“Or I was, until you burst in and slammed the door, thank you very much.” Loras
sat up and pushed the blankets down roughly. His curls were afrizz and his
mouth was like a cat’s, small and sharply downturned. It took all of Renly’s
effort not to destroy that pout with a kiss.
“It’s only eight o’clock. Unless you’re ill, then you must truly be upset about
Ser Humfrey nearly unhorsing you. Is that it?” Renly asked as he hung his cloak
over the door and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Loras’s eyes narrowed. “It was a trick of the light. That jackanapes couldn’t
unhorse a saddle.”
“I am sure.”
“And where in seven hells have you been?”
“Where have I been?” So Ser Humfrey was not the true target of Loras’s wrath.
“I told you I’d be back by evenfall.”
“It’s eight o’clock. Evenfall is before dinner. Which you missed.”
Renly squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “There was never a specific time,
and I was not aware that you were my mother and not my squire.”
“You said I was your friend, and friends keep promises.”
“Oldtown is a big city. I was lost.”
“You’re lying!” Loras sniffed dramatically. “And you smell like wenches!”
Renly sighed. He’d planned on not telling Loras, but keeping the truth from him
would only make it worse, it seemed.
“Yes, Loras,” he said. “I saw a whore. I didn’t plan to. It just…happened.”
He expected Loras to shout at him, but the way Loras looked at him he would
have preferred an explosion of anger. Instead the boy glared, in Renly’s
direction but focused on nothing in particular, brown eyes immobile with rage.
“So when you said maids didn’t interest you, you lied to me, is that it?”
“Loras, it’s…it was something that just happened, and I didn’t really enjoy it.
I won’t apologize; I am a man grown, and you are my squire, and in no position
to reproach me.”
Renly felt a bit bad for the way he had lied and misled Loras; first off, the
whore had been a boy, a clever, lovely creature with deep brown eyes and sleek
curls, and when Renly had bumped into him, in a pale green lace and satin
doublet and carrying a cage of white chickens, he wondered if the boy could
pass for Loras in dim enough light.
He couldn’t, of course, but he’d taught Renly a few things he hadn’t learned
from occasional desperate rutting against hedge knights and stable boys in the
woods of Storm’s End. And Renly did enjoy it. He enjoyed it quite a lot.
“Loras, what if I told you…” Renly began cautiously. “What if I told you the
whore was not a maid.”
“Whores rarely are, are they?”
Renly laughed despite himself. “I don’t mean not a maiden. I mean…it was a
boy.”
Loras’s eyes met Renly’s, two sharp lines between his eyebrows, mouth open. “A
boy?”
Fear seized Renly’s heart and drove a fist into his stomach. There were few
things that frightened him, and few things he was afraid to say, but to tell
his squire, a youth who admired him and lived for his praise, that he had such
unnatural desires—he couldn’t bear the disappointment on Loras’s face. Loras
loved the teachings of the septons and dreamed of becoming a perfect knight of
the Faith, and the Faith was clear on such things. The Mother was made for the
Father, and the Maiden for the Warrior; and we who are made in their images
should not stray from their example.
And I suppose the Smith bangs his own hammer, Renly had said to old Septon
Lowel after that lesson. He liked to think himself responsible for Lowel’s
paroxysm and death not half a year after coming to Storm’s End.
“Yes, Loras,” he said, trying not to let his voice betray his fear. “A boy.”
“So.” Loras lowered his eyes. “You find some excuse to leave me alone here
while you go and fuck some poxy boy-slut? When you could have had me? A Tyrell
of Highgarden? Am I not good enough for you, my lord?”
Renly’s chest felt like it was about to burst open.
There had been times when he had wondered if Loras wanted him the way he wanted
Loras, but even if Loras had wanted him, the fear and the loathing may still
have won out. Gods knew there were times when it almost did with Renly himself,
when he wanted to try to love a woman and make himself be the sort of man who
wasn't the butt of jokes and the object of suspicious glares. But every time he
allowed his mind to walk that path it always ended up the same way. With him at
Loras's side, breathing in Loras's scent during the day and whispering his name
through clenched teeth in the night.
And if Loras wanted him, Renly thought, he wouldn't mind being the butt of
every joke that had ever been told.
“Oh, Loras,” he said. “First of all, you must not shout. Someone could hear.
But no, no, it’s not that, it isn’t that at all.” He reached out and pressed
his palm to Loras’s face. Loras flinched angrily and Renly feared he was about
to pull back, but slowly he leaned into the touch. “I’ve wanted you for nearly
two years, but Gods, you were so young, and so nobly born, I would have been
damned by every power in the heavens and on Earth if I’d touched you.”
“Fuck the gods.” Loras spat out.
“You would say such a thing?” Renly asked. “And what about what your family
would think?”
“I don’t care anymore.” Loras looked down at his fists, still clenched in the
blankets. “I thought it was enough, for both of us, to be closer than brothers.
But for you it clearly wasn’t.” He looked up at Renly with an accusing glare.
“So I want it too. Whatever you gave him, I want it.”
“He wasn’t poxy,” Renly blurted out. “He was a sweet, clever lad. Clean and
bright and lovely as spring,” he said. Loras’s lip curled as if he wanted to
lunge out and bite Renly’s throat like a mad wolf. “But you.” Renly framed
Loras’s face with both hands, fingers tangling in his curls. “You are the glory
of summer. I would never want anything again if I could just taste you. Loras…”
he whispered, letting the name spill over his tongue, remembering what a
pleasure and a sweet pain it was to mouth it alone in the dark as he held his
own prick and balls.
“My lord,” Loras said, and it sounded like something between a petulant mumble
and a sob. And suddenly Loras’s hands were clutching his doublet, fingernails
digging into his shirt, and Loras’s mouth was pressed against his so hard
Renly’s teeth hurt. Loras bit at his lip as their noses smashed together, and
then he yanked on Renly’s shirt hard and pushed him backwards onto the bed.
“You’re mine,” Loras growled, leaning over and sliding his lips over Renly’s.
“Aren’t you? You have to be, or else I…Tell me. Tell me you are.”
“I’m yours,” Renly whispered. He clutched the back of Loras’s head as they
kissed again, and Renly flicked his tongue over Loras’s teeth, and licked at
his lips. Loras whimpered and touched his forehead to Renly’s. “And I want you
to be mine. In every way.”
“So have me,” Loras said. “I want you to give me everything you gave that boy.
Everything.”
“I will.” Renly smiled.
“Now.”
“Some of it might be…unsuitable…for a young man of noble birth,” said Renly.
“Are you sure? Will you hate me for dishonoring you?”
Loras half-sneered again. “I said I want everything.”
Renly sighed. He wanted to ask if Loras was sure again, but he knew he was; he
knew that tone, and that look in Loras’s eyes. And Renly wanted so badly for
him to be sure.
Renly started to push Loras's tunic up slowly, but Loras grabbed Renly's shirt
and yanked it over his his head so roughly Renly heard it rip a little. Loras
undid the laces of Renly's breeches and pushed them down over his hips, and
Renly did the rest of the work of untying his boots and kicking his breeches
off while Loras watched, nostrils flared, panting like a horse.
"You beast," Loras said, grinning, as he raked his fingernails over the trail
of dark hair on Renly's stomach and followed it down to the black curls that
surrounded his cock. "You're huge."
"You're surprised? Runs in the family. Even Stannis has the gift, strange as it
may sound. But I thought you'd seen me naked before," said Renly, pulling Loras
down for another kiss.
"I always looked away."
"You're sure you can handle that inside you? That is what you want, isn't it?"
For a moment Loras was speechless, but his bravado returned quickly. "Yes." He
pouted. "I should've been the first to have it." He squeezed Renly's cock and
clenched his teeth.
"Ow. Who's the beast again?"
Loras shimmied down to straddle Renly's thighs and whipped his bedshirt off in
one fluid movement. He was fully naked now; Renly's hands migrated to the
hollows in his slim hips and held him there in wonder, taking in his small pink
nipples, his long neck and strong arms. With Renly's cock still in his fist,
Loras lowered himself over it so that the cleft of his arse brushed the head.
"Oh no." Renly sat upright in horror. "Not like that."
Loras fixed him with a cold stare. "So this isn't what you were talking about?
How do you plan to get inside me then? By spilling your seed in my dessert?"
"I mean," Renly said, rubbing his fingertips over the goosebumps on Loras's
arms, "that's not the way to take a cock. Especially not one as impressive as
mine." He grinned. "Will you allow me to move?"
Loras sighed theatrically, slid off of Renly to lie on his stomach and groaned
into a pillow.
"I know, love." Renly gave Loras's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't be frustrated.
You've never done this before, have you? I don't expect you to be an expert on
the first try."
"Seven hells, it's just buggering. It's not supposed to be hard."
"I'll let that joke go." Renly laughed. He got off the bed and walked to the
door where his cloak hung, and he pulled a small vial out of the pocket, which
he held up for Loras to see. "My friend in Oldtown gave me this. Well. I
suspect he added the cost of it to my fee, but no matter. It makes it easier,
and takes away the pain."
"Milk of the poppy?" Loras grimaced.
Renly chuckled. "No. It's just an oil, to go on...well, everything that's going
in anywhere. But also," he said, sitting back down on the bed and placing a
hand on Loras's lower back, "it's just as important that you relax."
"Is that also what your friend said? Are you going to be thinking of him this
whole time you're with me?"
"I thought of you the whole time I was with him," Renly said, and dipped his
head to kiss the place he had just touched. "I told him about you. I didn't
tell him who you were, of course, don't worry. But I told him I loved a young
man," he said, punctuating the end of each phrase with kisses down Loras's
spine, "the loveliest I or anyone had ever seen, with eyes the color of earth
touched by sunlight, and the softest sweetest lips, whose walk alone is like a
god's dancing."
"Of course he's going to know, then!" Loras cried.
"You do think a lot of yourself, don't you." Renly kissed the dip at the base
of Loras's spine as his hands squeezed his buttocks.
"There aren't many young lords walking around with coal-black hair and blue
eyes who are half a head taller than most men," Loras said. "Even fewer who
wear clothes that cost about as much as a small keep and chatter like jackdaws.
With all respect, my lord."
"Watch yourself, squire," Renly murmured. "You take great liberties with that
tongue of yours."
"And you take great liberties with yours...oh," Loras gasped as Renly touched
the tip of his tongue to Loras's hole and began to lick. As his tongue applied
more pressure, he felt Loras squirm beneath him, felt his buttocks clench, knew
he was clutching the pillow even though he couldn't see it. Loras moaned and
arched his back and pushed his arse into Renly's face.
This was only the second time Renly had done this particular thing, but his
anxiety dissolved as he closed his eyes and spread Loras's arse wider. He
kissed him there like he'd kiss Loras's lips, sucking and licking and pushing
his tongue against the tightness. When Loras's hole was slick and messy with
spit, Renly pulled back and brushed his fingers over it.
"You need to relax for this part," said Renly, squeezing the backs of Loras's
thighs.
"It's hard to relax when I think about how your little piece must have told
half of Oldtown of your plans to debauch me," Loras grunted.
"Stop whining. I paid him well for his silence."
"Which makes it even more likely that he knows exactly who we both are," said
Loras as he twisted his upper body around and leaned on an elbow to look at
Renly. He blew a tendril of hair out of his face, and Renly wished he had a
thousand hands, one to play with Loras's hair, one to work his arse open, one
to squeeze the knots out of his shoulders, one to touch his lips and the pink
spots on his cheeks.
"Well," Renly said, "if it weren't for him it's more than likely that none of
this would be happening."
"Fair enough." Loras sighed. "I'm still angry with you."
"Save it for the training yard."
Loras huffed and buried his face in the pillow as Renly spread his arse again.
He rubbed slow, determined circles over Loras's hole, pausing to pour some of
the thick oil over his fingers and drizzle it inside Loras's arse, then set the
bottle aside.
"Alright?" he asked, pushing a single finger inside. "Relax. Think about how
satisfying it would be to kill me and use my corpse as a pillow."
Loras laughed voicelessly and drew a deep breath, and Renly's finger slid
slowly in.
"I have to stretch you a bit," he whispered. He realized again how loud they'd
been, and wondered how, if they ever did this again, they were going to keep it
secret. Loras had always brought out this exuberance in him, this loudness of
voice and heart, and now that he was with him like this, a finger inside the
secret heat of his body, smelling sweat and violets on Loras's bare skin, his
throat wanted to let out a shout of joy, louder than a storm, louder than a
god.
Loras made curious little noises as Renly stretched him open, gasps and
whimpers and staccato hums. "Am I hurting you?" Renly kept asking, but every
time Loras said no, no, no. And for Renly, who so rarely cared if he hurt
others, this tenderness was a strange feeling. If he hurt this boy seriously,
in his body or his pride or his heart, he'd never forgive himself.
"Gods," Loras moaned, turning around again. "I want you."
"Now?" Renly asked. The lamp was flickering out, but Renly could see the look
in Loras's eyes, his heavy eyelids, his wet wide-open mouth. He poured the oil
over his cock and then, keeping Loras open with two fingers, positioned himself
over Loras's hole.
"Can you...can you get on your hands and knees? Or would you rather face me?"
At those words Loras wriggled off of Renly's fingers, flipped over onto his
back, sat upright, and grabbed Renly's hands. "Yes. Look at me when you do
this."
Renly bent down to kiss him, slow and deep, and grinned as he pulled away.
"Isn't it we? Aren't we doing this?"
Loras pullled himself up onto his knees and gave Renly a wicked smile in
return. "What if I get on you like this?" he asked, straddling Renly's knees
and bending back to align his arse with Renly's hard, slick cock. "Does your
friend approve?"
Without warning, Loras lowered himself onto the tip of Renly's cock. He winced,
teeth gritted, but he kept sliding down.
"If it hurts, by the gods, stop!" Renly whispered, horrified. But Loras just
shook his head.
"It doesn't hurt."
"It looks like it bloody well hurts." Renly grabbed Loras's hips and held him
in place as firmly as he could. "Slowly."
Loras glared down at him, but lowered himself more slowly.
The tight grip of Loras's arse around his cock was already sending jolts of
pleasure through Renly's core, and he had to focus on the feeling of his
fingers clutching Loras's hips to stop from fucking up into him. He moved his
hands up Loras's back, stroking, pulling Loras toward him as Loras tipped his
head back and let out a yelp.
"Does it--"
"Shut up," Loras moaned, and snapped his hips up so he could lower himself back
down again. When Loras threw his head back again Renly sucked at his throat
hungrily, kissed and nipped the underside of his chin, licked his collarbones
and his nipples until Loras rocked forward. Their noses smashed together when
Renly raised his head and Loras lowered his, but the shock of pain didn't
matter, and only fused with the pleasure, all the different kinds of it.
There were a thousand things Renly wished he could focus on, a thousand things
that by themselves would be more than enough to make him happy beyond belief,
but everything was happening all at once, his mind went down the dark wet
tunnel of a kiss and diffused in the brilliant orange sparks of a scratch down
his spine, and Loras was riding him hard and graceful like he'd been doing this
forever, because everything Loras Tyrell did he did it hard and graceful and
like he'd been doing it forever.
And Loras was his. His, all his, in every way he'd ever dreamed of. It was that
thought that made his center swell and burst like the shout he couldn't
release.
He heard himself moan and shudder as he released his seed, still louder than he
knew he should be. As his cock slid out of Loras, he saw that Loras gripped his
own cock in his fist. Renly had forgotten about that, he realized, and cursed
himself.
"Here," he said. "Get on your back. I'll take care of that."
Loras climbed off of Renly's lap and sprawled in the center of the huge bed,
arms resting on a cushion above his head, sweat glistening in the center of his
chest and under his arms. Renly dropped a kiss over his heart and bent down to
take Loras's erect cock in his mouth.
It didn't take long before Loras was coming in his mouth. The suddenness and
force of it surprised him, and he pulled back without meaning to, so that
Loras's come streaked across his chin and neck.
"Sorry," he laughed. "I didn't mean it to happen like that."
Before he knew it Loras was laughing too. Loras's fingers tangled in his hair
and pulled him up for a kiss, and Renly didn't care about the come on his face,
or his own seed that was no doubt dripping out of Loras's arse and onto the
Hightowers' Myrish brocade bedcovers.
Finally the exhaustion of release caught up to him, and he rested his head on
Loras's shoulder, feeling small and weak and for once not really minding it.
"Loras," he whispered.
"What?" Loras's arms wound around his shoulders.
"Nothing. I only wanted to say your name. I love your name."
When he looked up at Loras, he saw that Loras was smirking.
"So my lord loves me? Or do you say that to everyone you fuck up the arse?"
"You're going to let that go," Renly growled.
"Mmmm. Yes, my lord. Lord Renly." Loras sighed, burying his lips in Renly's
hairline. "My lord Renly," he whispered. And then, so softly Renly felt it more
than he heard it, just Renly.
And then a kiss that landed half on his hair and half on his forehead, and then
nothing but the crackle of the fire, and the rise and fall of Loras's chest,
and Loras's name in his head like a heartbeat, like a prayer with nothing sad
or vexing in it, like an endless flow of water for an endless thirst, like
everything he needed to live and prosper.
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