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Gwayne rolled his eyes when one of Ormund’s servants told him a bath was already prepared for him. He could already imagine all the exaggerated petitions his cousin had made to the people in charge of that. Oils here and there until the water was perfumed, scented towels and clothes for when he was done and so on. So much for his many offensive comments from before.
Gwayne had known Ormund since they were children growing up to be honourable knights of Oldtown. Needless to say, one of them was significantly more honourable than the other. Because of how long he knew him, he knew Ormund was probably enraged at the idea of Gwayne spending so long in Criston’s company after how positively he spoke of him in his letters to Ormund.
Though Gwayne knew that Criston was most likely already dead by then. That was his wish, and he wasn’t going to pursue him to his grave no matter how fond he had grown of him during their short time side by side. Time full of deadly dragonfire and spilled blood, but Gwayne still admitted to himself that he appreciated the man, as broken and tired of living has he found him.
If years had told Gwayne something about Ormund, it was that he didn’t take kindly when his dear cousin was finding solace with someone who wasn’t him. He could keep insulting Gwayne about his preferences towards men all he wanted, but Ormund was the one who got quite possessive and territorial over his cousin when he noticed a man or a woman took an interest in him.
Even if Ormund didn’t know the extent of Gwayne and Criston’s closeness, even if nothing of the sort happened and Criston was already dead, Ormund still wasn’t satisfied. He wanted answers, he wanted every single detail straight from Gwayne’s mouth. He was too proud to admit he had been punching his own bedpost more than once at the thought of Gwayne being with Criston.
When Gwayne was left alone and sank his body inside the bathtub, a strong flower-like scent filled his nostrils. It was almost too strong that he found it a bit overwhelming at first but got used to it after a few minutes. Closing his eyes, Gwayne allowed himself to simply relax and give his mind a moment to assimilate everything he had gone through during the week he experienced war.
Gwayne knew it wasn’t going to be pretty or easy, but being at risk of being burnt by dragonfire and how brutal fighting a war with dragons involved was, to say he had been terrified was putting it very lightly. It wasn’t the first time Gwayne dealt with a dragon, but seeing Tessarion grow up since she was a small beast was very far from witnessing experienced war dragons in action.
Since he asked to be left alone while he was bathing, Gwayne took his time cleaning himself before wrapping his body around a towel. Its scent was almost a strong as the water itself, nothing he was surprised about at all. He had barely had time to dry himself and put some nightclothes on before Ormund opened the chamber’s doors without knocking. Again, nothing Gwayne didn’t expect.
“That’s much better,” Ormund grinned, visibly satisfied as he inhaled the scent emanating from Gwayne’s body. “You smelled awful earlier today, war truly does not suit you.”
Gwayne found all that pride annoying. “It does not suit anyone.”
“Many men are made for war, dear cousin,” Ormund spoke as he turned around momentarily to close the door, leaving both men alone inside it. “You clearly are not, but tell me,” he paused, beginning to circle Gwayne like a predator ready to pounce on its pray. “Was that Dornish knight you treasured so much made for battle as much as everyone said he was?”
Gwayne scoffed. “I expected you to take longer to ask about him, your restrain has lessened since the last time we saw each other.”
“I am very restrained,” Ormund’s tone was remaining dangerously calm. “If I was not, I would have made that bath you took much shorter and brought you to my room immediately. Instead of that, I waited for you and here I am still, since you did not come to me.”
“How generous of you,” Gwayne couldn’t help but grin a little. He was able to tell Ormund wasn’t as composed as he tried to appear. “Should I be thankful as well about your disrespect from earlier then, in front of Daeron? About how you received me with your petty jealousy?”
“I could have been much more disrespectful,” Ormund put his hands together. “Daeron already knows what you are but he needs not know about the details of your debauchery.”
“My debauchery?” Gwayne’s brows raised. “You were there last time, if I recall correctly. And leave Daeron out of this.”
“You and I are not the same, cousin,” Ormund approached Gwayne from behind, placing his hand on his cousin’s shoulders, a delighted expression growing on his face when the scent of Gwayne’s hair reached his nose. His dear cousin smelled as he wished again, not like disgusting war camps and a certain dead knight. “I have made that more than clear plenty of times.”
Gwayne knew what denial looked like, and Ormund was full of it. Though perhaps the worst part was that he really believed they were not the same. That he was a righteous, morally superior man while he put Gwayne through the mattress at any given chance he got. Gwayne had gotten tired of trying to get Ormund to accept the reality of what he was. And yet, he still desired him.
That frustrated Gwayne to no end.
“War has made you more of a prick than you already were,” Gwayne responded, defiant. “If we are not the same, then why do you keep asking about me and Criston Cole?”
Ormund didn’t respond to that, the mere name of the man who had been near Gwayne for so long already causing him to frown. “What exactly happened between you and him?”
Gwayne didn’t reply immediately just to get on Ormund’s nerves. “Nothing.”
For a moment, Ormund’s sense of smell focused only on the scent, his nose smelling Gwayne’s hair again before his nose moved down to his cousin’s cheek, then his neck. He had personally chosen the scent for his cousin’s bath, towel and clothes, yet it was like Gwayne himself enhanced that very same smell to the point it almost drove Ormund closer to insanity than he already was.
“You better not be lying to me, Gwayne, if you want to remain unharmed for another day” Ormund’s tone turned threatening as he whispered in the other man’s ear. “I would ask the man himself, but I fear the dead cannot speak.”
Gwayne’s jaw tightened. “Then you will have to take my word for it, because I do not know what else you want me to say,” he tried to hide the effect Ormund’s closeness had on him. “Nothing happened between us, Ormund.”
“Ah, but do you wish it had?” Ormund’s fingers danced on Gwayne’s collarbone, getting dangerously close to his neck as he inhaled the other man’s scent – one he was responsible for.
“What if I did?” Gwayne swallowed before voicing his next words, wanting to test how far he could go that night. “What if I wanted Cole to fuck me raw in that dirty war camp?”
Next thing Gwayne knew, one of Ormund’s hands was around his neck. “I dare you to say that again,” he hissed, knowing he was barely giving Gwayne the chance to breathe. As Gwayne began to struggle, his scent filled Ormund’s nostrils again. “You smell so good,” he breathed lustfully against his cousin’s ear, the grip on his cousin’s neck weakening just one bit because of that. “Come on, oh so brave and honourable Gwayne Hightower, repeat what you just said.”
“What if I–” Gwayne somehow managed to say the words, his voice raspy. “What if I fantasised about Cole every night and purposefully invited him to my tent more than once?”
“You filthy sodomite,” Ormund tightened his choke on Gwayne’s throat before letting him go as he pushed him to the bed. “When will you learn how to behave?”
“You almost make me cease breathing and I am the one who has to behave?” Gwayne asked, a hand around his throat as he caught his breath and not moving from the bed. “You keep saying that you cannot stand the Targaryens and their costumes to marry and breed between their own family members,” he provoked Ormund, knowing exactly what his next words could do to him. “And here you are, wanting to fuck the living shit out of your male cousin once again and throwing a tantrum because I briefly fancied a man who is now dead. For the restrained and morally correct man you say you are, you are honestly being quite pathetic, lord Ormund.”
“Enough!” Ormund walked to the side of the bed and placed one knee on it before grabbing Gwayne by his hair and pulling his body up so his cousin was facing him. “On your knees, now.”
Gwayne hissed when Ormund tightened the grip on his hair before throwing him to the bed again. Yet he didn’t disobey him despite giving him one last defiant look. Ormund didn’t have to know Gwayne enjoyed being roughly manhandled by him. Without another word, their positions had switched and Ormund was sitting on the bed while Gwayne was kneeling in front of him.
Ormund could tell the way Gwayne’s breath hitched when he began unbuckling his belt. Gwayne knew him more than well, that was true enough, but that also worked the other way around. He knew exactly what buttons to push to make Gwayne comply to what he wanted – which in bed, meant what Gwayne himself wanted as well. They were oddly compatible in that sense.
Once Ormund’s pants and underwear fell to his ankles, Gwayne swallowed. And of course Ormund noticed. “Do not make me waste my time and start sucking,” he paused, taking a deep breath and voicing the next words mostly for himself. “May the Mother forgive me.”
Gwayne hesitated out of pure spite, because he had been hot and bothered since Ormund began whispering in her ear. He used his hand first, giving Ormund’s cock a few slow strokes before using his mouth, taking the tip first and almost choking on it when his cousin’s hand flew to his hair and made Gwayne swallow him whole, causing him to gag when it hit the back of his throat.
Though that didn’t make Gwayne want to stop. Not only he enjoyed Ormund’s roughness, he was also quite used to it. He began bobbing his head up and down, encouraged by the way Ormund was trying to suppress any sound trying to escape from his throat by biting his lower lip. Gwayne secretly revelled in being the one to make the prideful Ormund Hightower fall apart so easily.
Ormund, the lord of Oldtown, always taking pride in how loyal he was to the faith of the Seven, how even-tempered he was when it came to planning war strategies, and so rightful in his own beliefs about himself. And yet all it took was Gwayne’s mouth wrapped around his cock for him to drop that tough and distinguished facade and become a man who couldn’t suppress a moan.
Small tears began to gather in Gwayne’s eyes when Ormund gripped his hair and began moving his head how he wanted, obsessively looking at the sight below him and effectively almost choking Gwayne in the process. Only when Gwayne’s tears began streaming down his face, Ormund moved his head away, panting as he observed Gwayne cough loudly without a smirk on his face.
“Already so breathless?” Ormund mocked. “Do not die on me now.”
Gwayne dried his own saliva from his chin with the back of his hand. “Have you taken a look at yourself? Perhaps you will find most intriguing how you are barely breathing as well.”
“Quit being irritating,” Ormund patted his lap and pretended his breath wasn’t uneven. “Undress and come here.”
Gwayne blinked, a bit confused. “I thought–”
“You do not need to think now,” Ormund spat. “Just shut your mouth and do as I say if you want me to fuck you.”
Despite the unexpected order, Gwayne didn’t disobey, quickly getting rid of the nightclothes he had worn for barely an hour before straddling Ormund’s lap. A small sound escaped his lips when Ormund grabbed the back of his head and joined their lips, kissing for the first time since the last night they spent together in Oldtown, before Gwayne left their home for King’s Landing.
“Spread your legs,” Ormund commanded between kisses before devouring Gwayne’s mouth again, immediately pushing his tongue between his cousin’s lips.
“Ormund–” Gwayne’s words were interrupted by two fingers entering his hole. He hissed as his body began getting used to that familiar sensation again. “Wait–”
“Do not test my patience, Gwayne,” Ormund warned. “I have waited long enough and it is not like you deserve any consideration after taunting me with you fancying another man.”
“Ormund,” Gwayne grabbed his cousin’s clothed shoulders as he tried to find the right words, which wasn’t easy giving how Ormund’s fingers were already stretching him. “I have not taken anyone after our last night together in Oldtown, just try to be a little gentle at least.”
Ormund seemed to consider it. “I will start gentle,” he assured. “If you ask nicely for it.”
Gwayne saw that coming. Fucking piece of shit. “Please,” he begged. “Please, Ormund.”
In a surprisingly fond gesture, Ormund kissed Gwayne’s chin. “Alright.”
Whenever they shared a bed, Ormund preferred it when Gwayne was on all fours. It was how they usually did it and since it felt pleasurable for both, he didn’t complain about that. Ormund wanting to see his face wasn’t new, but didn’t happen often. Gwayne wasn’t against it – watching the faces he made while being fucked raw would only give Ormund more reasons to insult him.
And yet, Ormund wanted to see Gwayne’s face that night.
Once Ormund retired his fingers, his lined up his cock with Gwayne’s hole. As his cousin asked, he was gentle at first, using just the tip and obsessively watching how Gwayne struggled to take him at first. Gwayne’s hands grabbed his shoulders tighter before moving around his neck, pulling their bodies closer. Ormund, who used to pull away from deeper intimacy, didn’t complain.
Ormund’s hand moved to Gwayne’s hips and slowly made him sink down his cock, earning a strangled moan from the man. He pushed back up until only the tip was in, then back down again. Gwayne’s whimpers became more frequent and Ormund couldn’t help groaning in response, not bothering to hide how very delighted he was to have his cousin so putty in his hands.
As Ormund promised, he was slow at first, his obsessive gaze not missing any of the expression on Gwayne’s face. He hated that no one, man or woman, had been able to turn him on like Gwayne did. That he had never been possessive of someone like he was with him. Just the mere thought of his cousin near Criston had been driving Ormund isane all the weeks they had been apart.
He chuckled darkly when Gwayne release a high-pitched moan which was likely to be heard outside.“You are such a whore, always so loud and obscene.”
Gwayne knew the consequences of his next words, yet he didn’t hesitate. “And yet you seem to be very drawn to my obscenities.”
Ormund’s gentleness began vanishing after Gwayne’s words. He roughly bucked his hips up to match the rhythm of Gwayne’s hips, which he was the main cause of. Gwayne’s hands remained on Ormund’s back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. When Gwayne’s body began to shake, Ormund thrust even deeper inside him and reaching a spot which drove Gwayne crazy.
“What were you saying?” Ormund managed to get the words out between laboured breaths.
Gwayne, however, was too lost in the lust of the moment to fight him. “Harder.”
“Good,” Ormund teased him by leaning in for a kiss but biting Gwayne’s lower lip instead and quickly pulled way, a mischievous chuckle leaving his lips when his cousin let out a frustrated whine and thrusting deeper and harder inside him. “You sound too pretty for your own good,” Ormund whispered mostly to himself before his lips kissed down Gwayne’s cheeks to his neck.
Gwayne would’ve probably complained about not wanting Ormund to leave any marks on his body and how hard it was to keep them hidden, but that was a problem for the Gwayne Hightower who would wake up covered in bites the next morning. Ormund’s tongue and teeth were ruthless, biting and sucking bard all over his neck and collarbone, inhaling his scent in the process.
Ormund’s lips moved down to Gwayne’s chest. Gwayne gasped when Ormund’s mouth closed around one of his nipples, sucking on it without any mercy before doing the same with the other one. He was relentless, pushing his cock deep inside Gwayne and groaning under his breath at the delicious sensation of at how good he kept stretched around him, as he had always done.
It was after one of Ormund’s deeper thrusts inside him that made Gwayne reach his limit. His eyes squeezed shut and the moan he released would’ve probably woken up someone if Ormund hadn’t acted quicker and used a hand to cover his mouth to avoid being heard. He got Ormund’s clothed chest dirty, wrinkling the shirt he was wearing due to how tightly he had been gripping it.
Though that didn’t stop Ormund, the sensation of Gwayne’s hole getting even tighter around his cock only encouraging him to thrust even harder. In a surprisingly gentle gesture, he used a finger to clean an overstimulated Gwayne’s watery eyes and kissed him. Gwayne was shocked at how soft the kiss was but didn’t wast a second of it, instantly allowing Ormund’s tongue to part his lips.
And that did it for Ormund. Soon after, Ormund’s body gave up as well, rocking its own climax and remaining cock deep inside Gwayne and spilling every last drop of his seed inside the other man hole. A deep groan came from his throat as he came, unable to control his shaking body but still managing to maintain a firm grip on Gwayne’s hips so he could keep the man in place.
“You keep smelling good,” Ormund let out a delighted sigh once he had recovered his breath. “It never ceases to frustrate me.”
“You chose every scent my body wears tonight,” Gwayne huffed. “If you keep wanting to smell me, you only have yourself to blame.”
Gwayne let a small whine when he raised his hips and moved away from pulled Ormund’s cock out of him before lying on the bed, drying the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Instead of lying next to him, Ormund stood up and kicked off the pants and underwear around his ankles before slowly began removing his shirt, purposefully showing off while Gwayne watched.
“There is no need for you to disrobe any further,” Gwayne couldn’t help from staring a bit too long at Ormund’s toned chest.
“Your face says the opposite,” Ormund grinned a bit too cockily before lying next to Gwayne on the bed, taking one of his cousin’s hands in his and bringing it to his nose. “Do not come back to me speaking of another man again if you know what is good for you.”
Gwayne would’ve argued in other situation, but he was too tired and too in bliss to do it right there and then. “Just so you let me sleep for the rest of the night, I will comply.”