Now, Loras was kissing Jaime with such fierceness that it made Jaime actually whine into his mouth. The blows Loras had dealt him not long ago left his mouth and cheeks feeling sensitive and pained. Jaime pulled back a little, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, and to admire the younger man in front of him. With his jacket and tunic off, Loras was left in his muddied breeches and boots. Bruises were already appearing on his body from their fight, and there were bruises from all the training he’d done that week.
Jaime gasped softly at the sight of Loras. Breeches low on his hips, bruised and roughed up from fighting–he was truly a sight. He dropped to his knees in front of the knight and reached up to place both hands on the small of Loras’ back in order to draw him closer. Jaime’s green eyes flashed up at Loras before he looked straightforward again, leaving a trail of kisses up his flat stomach. He kissed bruises now, letting his eyes fall closed. Jaime’s left hand slid down to grip Loras’ ass, squeezing it as he gently bit one of the bruises.
The worry Jaime had was still there, nagging him in the back of his mind. You shouldn’t be taking advantage of someone under your command. He’s grieving. You’re grieving. This is truly a terrible idea. Cersei will murder you both. What are you even doing with a man? All these thoughts raced in his mind, but instead, Jaime quieted them by sucking a small bruise by Loras’ hip.
The sight of Jaime Lannister on his knees before him made Loras’ throat dry up and his stomach tighten; he could feel himself growing hard, and he forgot to feel awkward or ashamed as Jaime kissed at his bruises. Loras’ breath left him in a rush as Jaime nipped at another mark; he carded his fingers through Jaime’s hair and let himself imagine Jaime’s mouth on him, their bodies pressed close skin to skin.
“Get up,” Loras murmured, his voice choked with need as he tugged at Jaime’s hair. “You don’t know what you’re doing down there.” And that thought comforted Loras somewhat; he had the high ground here, he would be in charge of this, because in this, at least, he knew what he was doing.
“What?” Jaime looked up at the other man, gasping softly as his hair was tugged at. He wished to argue; argue that he did know what he was doing, but Jaime also knew it was no use. How hard can it be? The older knight wished to say, but didn’t.
Instead, he rose to his feet obediently, looking down into Loras’ eyes again. His own eyes still seemed hungry for Ser Loras. This look was only confirmed by how Jaime was soon on him–golden hand at the small of his back while his left hand palmed at Loras’ prick through his trousers. “You’re hard, I could have actually done something about it from down there.”
Published
The Evil Lair 