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Renly had had wet dreams before.
Twenty-one year old males were typically used to them, waking with an erection part and parcel with growing up. A particular dream would remain intact from time to time, Renly able to recall what had left him aching and needy in the morning, but more often than naught it was the sensations that he was left with. The memory of lips against his own, of hands tugging and pulling at soft locks of hair, and of masculine moans and bruising embraces—these all lingered, driving Renly to wake and finish himself off, the ghost of those sensations aiding him in his final release.
His fantasies rarely had names, never came with much emotion, and only left him feeling just a bit sticky and content.
Lately, however, his fantasy had a name, he came with an emotion, and he left Renly feeling guilty, excited, confused, and, of course, incredibly sexually frustrated.
Renly knew it was wrong to think of him that way, and that he was walking a tight rope by even entertaining the idea of doing anything about his needs, but he just could not get rid of his dreams. He tried. Cold showers, avoiding contact—he even went out to a club to find a one-night-stand, figuring perhaps he just needed some real release. None of it worked. The dreams persisted.
Every night he saw golden brown curls. Every night he touched sun kissed skin with his hands and his lips. Every night, long, lithe limbs wrapped around him and held on to him with strength and longing. Every night, Renly dreamed of Loras.
And every morning, he had a guilty wank.
“Fick mich,” he groaned.
Staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room, Renly debated removing his cock.
It would make things easier, he thought, I could become a sexless being, free of thoughts of having sex with my best friend.
He looked down his chest, his cock bouncing, as if it knew he was looking at it. Sighing, he sat up and ran a weary hand over his face, ignoring his erection for the time being. There was a honk outside, and the light shining in his room was still grey and cold, but light none-the-less. It was probably eight, maybe seven. Too early, given he had a late night, his last concert on his tour having left him with a need to celebrate. Wine, good food and classical music in his ears accompanied him to bed.
And Loras coming in his mouth as they fucked in the garden at Highgarden greeted him in his sleep.
Glancing over at the alarm clock, the bright green letters flashed 7:47. He groaned again and flopped back down on to the bed, the plush mattress cushioning his dramatic fall. His erection was still there, the excitement of his dream having not worn off.
It would have been acceptable to desire a man like Loras, if that man did not happen to be the son of two people who had taken Renly in at a young age. Lost, confused, and feeling like he did not belong, the Tyrells took him in and kept him sane, taught him that he was wanted after being forgotten by his brothers all his life. England became his home, Germany nothing but a place he occasionally visited to get drunk.
He had been given Mace and Alerie’s trust. They treated him like a son, included him in all their ventures, and offered their support. Renly had never been supported nor trusted like that before, and he was in a perpetual state of paranoia he would somehow mess up—give them a reason to leave him behind like his brothers had years ago. He did not know how real families functioned, and was afraid he would fuck it all up.
Fantasising about having sex with their youngest son definitely constituted as fucking it all up. It sounded like something Robert would do, which just made Renly’s skin crawl.
He lay on the bed for a little longer, thinking about anything and everything. He was not going to jerk off—not this time. He was going to forget about the dream, go back to England, and pretend that nothing was different when he went to visit the Tyrells for the holidays.
It would all work out.
Just as soon as he stopped thinking about Loras’ ass.
XX
“You look like shit, mate.”
Renly stared at Royce from across the table. The café was busy, people lining up to get their afternoon coffee before bustling off back to work. It was approaching one and yet they still waited in line, no doubt running late. They did not seem to care. It was one of the quaint but maddening things about the English—time had little relevance to them.
“Thank you—you look good as well,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Royce quirked a brow and smirked. “My my, what’s got your knickers in a twist?”
“Sorry,” he said, running a hand over his face. His skin felt stretched and his eyes slightly bruised. “I just got back from my tour—I have not had time to relax since I came back.”
“I can see that.” Royce took a sip of his coffee and sat back in his chair. Normally the two would have gone out for a beer late at night, giving Royce ample opportunity to scan the crowd for ‘eligible birds’, as he liked to call them. But Renly wanted nothing to do with alcohol. He wanted coffee, a sexless environment, and for Royce to pay attention to him and not the blonde woman’s ass behind him.
Renly sometimes wondered why he and Royce got along so well. Royce was obsessed with beautiful women and having sex with as many of them as he could, drinking excessively, and had absolutely no appreciation for classical music whatsoever. His favourite past times was singing Two World Wars and One World Cup anytime football involved Germany, and never hesitated in giving Renly a good ribbing because of his German heritage. He was loud, obnoxious, and had a tendency to shoot his mouth off at the most inappropriate times.
He reminded Renly of Robert, just without the large belly and the complete obliviousness to anything out of his immediate gravitational pull. In all respects, Renly should have loathed Royce. But he could not. There was something appealing about Royce. Perhaps it was because he was completely different from Renly, and offered him a different view on things that Renly might have otherwise not have had.
Or maybe Renly just liked to torture himself. There was always that.
“So, why the loss of sleep?”
Renly shrugged. He did not feel like getting into his issues in the middle of a coffee shop. That was part of the reason he picked the place—it was not private in the slightest, and prevented any awkward conversations from taking place.
But then again, he had invited Royce of all people.
Fick mich, he thought for the seventh time that day.
“Oh come on, mate, open up,” Royce said dramatically, catching the attention of the women sitting a short ways away. “You’re one of the most relaxed blokes I know—you’ve got to be hiding something incredibly incriminating for you to be acting this way. Don’t tell me you knocked up a woman.”
Renly rolled his eyes, but could not help but smile. “The day I knock up a woman is the day my brother cracks a smile,” he said. Taking a sip of his coffee, he shook his head as the dark, rich liquid slid down his throat. “But it is nothing, really. Can we just catch up and not pry into our personal affairs?”
Royce sighed. “You’re no fun. I tell you all about my adventures—”
“Even though I never ask.”
“You love them,” Royce said, grinning. He had a handsome smile. It was lopsided, and his teeth were crooked, his two front ones bent in slightly while the bottoms were a disorganized line-up, but his smile was still attractive in a roguish way. “I mean, someone has got to have stories to tell when you’re sitting there, silent as some innocent school girl. You’re telling me you’ve got no sordid tales from your month long trip across Europe?”
Renly shrugged again. “No, I do not.”
“Come on, mate! You’re killing me here.” Royce was getting loud, the women turning to them once again. Renly sent him a look that was ignored. “You’re the most boring man I’ve ever met. You rarely drink, you don’t have one-night stands. God, when was the last time you dipped your wick?”
Renly quirked a brow. Royce was filled with bizarre English expressions. “Dipped my…” Oh, he got it. “I don’t know. It has been a while.”
“What, do you have like, an extra pair of testicles or something?”
“What?!” Renly almost spit his coffee out. He was positive that was not a classic English expression, “An extra pair of testicles?”
“That is the only explanation I can come up with as to why you’re not getting laid. Look at you—you’re the epitome of a walking sex-god. You’re tall, you’ve got arms that look like they could snap a tree in half, and I’ve seen you shirtless before. You should have men lined up to be with you.”
I do have men who want to be with me, but I only want the one I cannot have, Renly thought. He did not say that, however. Instead, “you sound like you want to date me,” he joked.
“Hey, if you don’t get laid soon I might just suck you off myself. You need to relax. You’re wound too tight.”
“Just because you like to sleep around with as many women as possible, does not mean I want to do the same.”
“I’d hope not. I mean, women aren’t really your forte, eh?”
“You know what I meant.”
Royce smiled and tapped his coffee stick against the rim of his cup. “All I’m saying is you need to start looking.”
Renly had been looking, but he just kept going back to the same person every time. “There has not been anyone I have been interested in…”
Royce caught the lie like a hound on the trail of a rabbit. Renly could practically feel his teeth sink into it, holding Renly in place as dark brown eyes pegged him from across the table. He shook his head slowly, breaking out into his maddeningly smug smile. “Oh, you cheeky bugger. You do have someone—look at your face. Aha, yeah, see, you’re blushing. You like someone.”
“Are you fifteen or something?”
“Is this a thing you German’s do?”
“What? Not talk about our sex lives in coffee shops?”
“Well when you put it that way…” He was still grinning.
“You are a wanker.”
“And you are a prude.”
Renly called Stannis that all the time. A prude with no sense of humour, no sense of adventure, and a sex life worthy of perhaps a single footnote in a history book. “Had sex once in his life. Found it adequate at best.” Renly always prided himself on being the complete opposite of Stannis—fun loving, willing to share, and full of sexual freedom and liberation.
Normally he would have been like that, but normally he was not having a small crisis over having fallen in love with Loras. Loras—still seventeen, best friend and confidant, and foolishly trusting—Tyrell. Any excitement he had over the possibility of a new romance was quickly negated by the sobering reminder of their roles in each other’s lives. He wanted Loras—god how he wanted him—but there was so much riding on the line. What if Loras reciprocated his feelings and they began to date, but then they broke up? Then what? Where would he be in the Tyrell family? Or, what if no one accepted it? What if they all thought it was wrong, and they rejected both of them? Or, maybe, it turned out Loras was actually heterosexual, and then Renly’s feelings would never be accepted and—
“You’re going pale, mate.”
Renly blinked a few times, and looked up from his coffee. For once in his life, Royce looked a little concerned.
“Sorry,” he said. He rested his head in his hands, pushing his heels in his eyes until he saw spots against his eyelids. Lifting his head back up, he stared back at Royce, a bit surprised to see the concern was still there.
“No need to apologize. I didn’t know this was such a… I just didn’t know. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Next time I get off like that feel free to hit me, yeah?”
“Do not apologize. You are right, I should talk about this.” Maybe if he spoke about his issues, conveniently leaving specific names out of it, Royce would have some valuable words of advice. He was right that Renly had been a downer as of late, and he was right in assuming Renly really, really needed to have sex. Maybe he would be right in how to proceed with his dilemma. “There is someone I have feelings for—very strong feelings.”
Royce nodded, and his expression was still thoughtful. He was taking this seriously, and it gave Renly more confidence to continue. It was still odd to speak about his feelings with someone—his true feelings. He had become so used to bottling things up; disguising what he was really going through with a fake smile and witty, but slightly scathing, remarks. He was not used to someone actually caring.
“What sort of feelings? Like, “I-Want-To-Shag-His-Brains-Out” feelings, or “I-Want-To-Declare-My-Love-On-The-Rooftops’ feelings.”
“Both. It started out just as wanting to have sex with him, but… I think I feel for him. A lot. We are good friends, so I have always cared for him, but it has become something more, you know? I want to be with him at all times—just to be near him makes me feel… he makes me feel safe—like I belong for once. Every part about him just amazes me. He is so talented, and passionate, and he just sweeps me up in his emotions every time. I sometimes think he can do nothing wrong, you know? Even the annoying things he does I find cute—like the fact that he literally yells at the television when he is watching sports. It should be infuriating, but I just find it charming. He also has some anxiety issues and some hyperactive disorder? It's a lot to take on but I can't help but want to try.” He paused, and realized he had broken out into a stupid smile. He felt foolish, but he could not help but smile when he began talking about Loras.
“You’re fucking smitten, mate.” He sat back and crossed his arms. The smug smile was back. “I’ve never seen you so caught up in a bloke like this before. So what’s the issue then?”
Renly ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide how to go about explaining it. “The man I like… his family is the issue.”
“They don’t like you?”
“No, they like me. At least, I think they do … see, they trust me a great deal, and if I do anything, I think I would be… treading in dangerous territory. What if… what if I mess things up and this family no longer trusts me? Or, what if they do not like me with their son? Not to mention, I do not even know if this guy likes me back… He is also still younger than me. I mean… he will be eighteen soon, but I still feel like a pervert.” He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. It left an uncomfortable film in his mouth, and he debated going to get a bottle of water in order to give him some time to sort through his thoughts. But his gut was clenched and he was jittery with nerves—it would only get worse with time. He needed to get it all out in one go.
“It’s Loras, isn’t it?”
Renly just stared at Royce. He must have looked a bit like a gaping fish, because Royce reached across and gently tapped his chin. Batting his hand away, he closed his mouth himself, but continued to stare at Royce with wide eyes. How does he know? How could he figure it out? If he knows, than maybe someone else knows. Maybe Margaery knows. Oh god—Margaery probably knows. She has twice the perception of Royce, and a great deal more intelligence. Fick mich.
“How do you know?”
“It’s obvious. Some guy you’ve been friends with for some time, a family you’re afraid to tamper with, and this distant look in your eyes that I’ve seen before when you’re with Loras. It’s practically written on your forehead.”
Renly nodded. He supposed he was not being very subtle. “Yeah, it is Loras. I… I really like him. I mean, I think I love him.”
“And it terrifies you.”
Renly nodded.
“And you’re afraid you’re going to lose the Tyrells support if anything goes wrong, yeah?”
Renly nodded again.
“And you figure, if you just pretend these feelings don’t exist, you can just get over it, continue on with your life, and pretend that you didn’t just miss out on possibly the best relationship of your life?”
Renly began to nod before pausing. “What do you mean?”
Royce chuckled and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “God, your home life really fucked you up, Renly.”
“You could say that again.”
Royce dropped his head back down. “No, they really did. You’re fucking afraid of commitment but you’re also afraid of being abandoned, and because you believe you’re so unworthy of any sense of family or love, you think up all the excuses you can to avoid those things.”
“I don’t…” he said quickly—perhaps too quickly. What Royce said had meaning, but it sunk into Renly like an ice-pick in his heart, making him snap out of instinct. “I want to be loved—that is why I am denying all of this. If things do not work out, I lose the Tyrells and Loras.”
“And if things do work?”
“Then…”
“Then you gain everything. Love is a risk, Renly, but it’s so worth it if you take the chance. And if you’re hung up on feeling like a pervert, just wait a few months till his birthday before you bang him.” Royce scooted closer, and reached across to take Renly’s hand in his own, an oddly comforting gesture. Looking him straight in the eyes, he continued. “I want you to go to see them over the holidays, I want you to tell Loras how you feel, I want you to kiss him and let him know you’re interested, and then come back here and lighten the fuck up.”
XX
Renly arrived at Highgarden a day before everyone else was expected. He had been given permission years ago to visit the family estate whenever he wanted to, but Renly had never come without another Tyrell with him before. He had found it odd to be there without an actual Tyrell in the house with him, despite their reassurances he was welcome whenever. But he needed to clear his mind. He needed the peace and tranquility that Highgarden brought, even in the depths of winter, when the fog was thick and the roses were closed, hidden away until the sun shone bright once more.
He had driven up to the estate with Royce’s words ringing in his ears, and tried to work up the courage to go through with Royce’s suggestion. He had to do something either way. Forgetting about Loras was not an option, and neither was pretending he had no feelings for him. He had to tell Loras…
Pulling his suitcase filled with clothes, and his second suitcase filled with Christmas gifts, Renly walked up the steps and entered the grand house. It was not unusual for the doors to be open, those who kept the house running while the Tyrells were away in London always present shadows in the hallways. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, he made a line straight to the grand staircase that made a casual twist up to the second floor, wanting to get to his room to drop everything off. From there, he would go to the music room. He needed to work his feelings out in the one way he knew how—his piano.
The image of a half-naked Tyrell, however, stopped Renly on the first step. He almost dropped one of his suitcases, and slipped on the step, his heart leaping into his chest as he desperately tried to stop himself from slamming his jaw on to the steps below.
Immediately strong hands were grabbing Renly’s arm, keeping him upright. “Jesus, Renly.”
Renly swallowed his heart back down, but the frantic beat was still there, not at all helped by Loras’ close presence. He tried to look away from Loras, but his eyes caught sight of Loras’ bare chest once more, and he was stuck staring at one of his nipples.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Blinking, he looked away and up at Loras. He was close—terribly close. So close Renly could count every eyelash, and see the flecks of gold in his large green eyes. His breath tickles his neck, and Renly felt like he was in one of his dreams all over again.
The only thing that told him he was awake was the persistent throbbing in his leg from his muscle wrench.
“You alright?” Loras asked.
Renly nodded. “Yeah, sorry, I think my shoes were… slippy.”
English failed him at times. It just made Loras smile, though. “Yeah, sort of wet outside.” It was only when Loras let go of his arm that Renly realized he had been holding on well after the danger had passed. “You’re here early.”
Renly nodded and straightened up further. He felt a bit more in control of himself, despite the fact that Loras was still half naked. “Why are you shirtless?” he asked.
“I was working out in the gym downstairs. My school has got shit facilities for working out in. I feel like I’m turning to mush anytime I go back to school.”
“You do not look like mush,” Renly said, continuing up the steps to his room, this time with steadier feet. “You look lean and… nice.”
Ficken Englisch…
If only Loras were German, then he would have all the right things to say to him then. Instead he was limited, only able to say things like “You look nice” and “I think you have a good butt.”
“Thanks,” Loras said. Renly saw his smile out of the corner of his eye as he trailed along beside him, taking one of his suitcases. “You look good, too. How was your trip?”
“Good. Really good. But I got worn down near the end. It feels good to be back in England, with my own piano and my own bed.”
“I’m glad you’re back, too. I missed you a lot.”
Renly coughed into his hand. “Thank you. I missed you, too.”
Opening the door to his room, he half expected Loras to take off to go and shower and dress, but was not surprised when Loras entered first, left his suitcase by the door, and made himself comfortable on Renly’s bed.
Once again Renly wondered if he was dreaming. Loras was stretched out on the mattress, his shorts riding low, and his arms high above his head, showing off his lean, lank body. And his curls—god, how many times had Renly imagined Loras’ curls fanned out across his pillow?
“You haven’t texted me in forever,” Loras drawled out, a pout on his lips as Renly went to unpack. He had clothes at Highgarden, but they were never the ones he wanted to wear.
“Sorry, I was busy,” he lied. I was trying to forget you existed.
“I’ll forgive you if you tell me you brought those little gingerbread squared with you.”
“Which ones?”
“Those domino things.”
“Dominosteine?”
Loras shrugged and sat up. “Yeah I guess. Did you bring them?”
Renly nodded and unzipped his suitcase filled with wrapped gifts. There were more in the car. Once Renly had people he actually wanted to buy gifts for he went a bit crazy with it. Subsequently, the Tyrells were left with piles of gifts they had no idea what to do with. Pulling out a pack of the treats Loras loved so much, he went to toss them across the room, but when he turned around Loras had jumped off the bed and was stood right in front of him, grinning eagerly and bouncing back on his heels.
“Here,” he said, voice tight as he willed any possible awkward erections to keep away.
“Thanks,” Loras said, taking the dominos. His hand brushed Renly’s. He smelled good—really good. His cologne had rubbed off but still lingered, slightly masked by his natural musk. Renly surmised this was what Loras probably looked and smelled like after sex.
He felt his cock twitch.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered.
I want you to kiss him… and then come back here and lighten the fuck up.
Loras pulled away before anything could be done. He looked completely oblivious as to what had just gone on, but Renly knew he could feel the sexual tension. Loras was a cheeky one who knew exactly what he was doing. There was nothing innocent about him.
And yet… Renly still hesitated. It was clear Loras wanted Renly. He was not shying away from the lingering stares, and in fact was doing much the same, his eyes skirting down Renly’s body on more than one occasion. But Renly still could not find it in him to just go for it. Not yet. He was still so full to the brim with what-ifs. He had no safety net if something went wrong, and that terrified him. Where has your confidence gone, Renly? Your ego? What is wrong with you?
“I’m going to go take a shower and when I come back you can tell me all about your trip, okay?” Loras said before Renly could find his self-confidence.
He nodded and watched Loras leave. He was about to let out a breath of air he was not aware he had been holding, when Loras’ voice behind him made him suck it back in.
“Don’t tell me parents you saw me here early, okay? I skipped out on my last few days of class, so I technically shouldn’t even be here.”
“Why did you skip?” he asked. Loras’ work ethic when it came to school as lacking.
He just shrugged. “I dunno—didn’t feel like going. Anyways; promise me?” He lifted his pinkie up in the air. It was a thing Loras did with Margaery—pinkie promises.
Renly lifted his and nodded. “Promise.”
Loras broke out into a beautiful smile and slipped back out the door, heavy footsteps accompanying him down the hallway toward the bathroom.
As soon as Renly was sure he was gone, he collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Fick mich.
XX
“How do you live alone if you can’t even chop a tomato?”
“I can chop a tomato.”
“Your finger begs to differ.”
“It is just a flesh wound.” Renly looked up from the cutting board and shot Loras a half-hearted glare.
Loras was perched atop the counter across the way, his legs dangling, kicking back and forth as he chewed on a piece of carrot he had stolen. He sent Renly a very self-satisfied, smug smile, one that Renly returned despite himself.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked. He looked over his shoulder at the stove, making sure the pot of noodles had not boiled over. He was attempting to make spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce, going off a recipe he had seen on television months ago. Normally, Renly never cooked, but normally, Renly was not left in a large house with Loras, the two all alone and left to fend for themselves.
“You quoted Monty Python,” he replied. “We’ll make a true Brit out of you yet.” He tapped the carrot against his large bottom lip and nibbled the tip.
“I am learning slowly.” He tore his gaze away from Loras’ suggestive carrot consumption. Things had been going well between the two, Renly slipping right back into the easy companionship that they always had. He had feared things would change between them when he came to terms with his feelings for Loras, but that was not the case. As soon as Loras was fully dressed it was as if the last few months had never happened, and they were once again best friends.
Only this time there was an excitement lurking under the current—a hum between them. A particular energy. They had been flirting; it would be hard to call it anything else. And not only had they been flirting, but it too was coming naturally. It was as if their friendship had just been leading up to this point—moulded over the years until they slipped into the roles of romantic partners.
It felt good. It felt right. It felt like nothing Renly had ever experienced before. But instead of shying away, like he was wont to do when it came to connecting to people, he embraced it with steady hands.
“Soon you’re going to be swearing like a real English person. Wanker, bastard, bloody hell…”
“I said wanker the other day.” He preened as Loras gave him an admiring look.
“Really? Who did you call a wanker?”
“Royce. You know him, right? You met him once.”
“Yeah; he’s the bloke who likes Manchester, right?” Renly heard Loras mumble ‘what a ponce’ under his breath.
“Yeah, that ponce.” He winked and turned around to dump the cut tomatoes in a sauce pan. He has only nicked his thumb once in his adventure. Turning back around, he dropped the cutting board back on the counter and leaned against it, admiring Loras as he stole another piece of vegetable from the plate they had taken from the fridge.
Renly could not help but appreciate Loras. Now that he had him in front of him, no longer just a fantasy in his dreams, Loras was even more attractive. There were certain things Renly lost out on in his fantasies—such as the way one of Loras’ curls always stuck out at the side, or how his hands always looked a bit rough from hours spent out practicing archery and hitting boxing bags. He had a beauty mark beneath his eye and one on his cheek, with a few trailing down his neck, and Renly wanted nothing more than to kiss his way across them, memorizing each perfect blemish so that he would never forget them again—not even in his dreams.
But perhaps the thing that his dreams could never capture in full was the vibrancy and life in Loras’ eyes. They practically crackled with energy; like a lightning storm that threatened to swallow Renly up. He could stare into those eyes all day…
Apparently Loras could do the same, as they had both paused their carefree banter to admire one another. As soon as Renly realised what was going on, he smiled softly and looked back at the pot. It was still bubbling away.
“So how was your trip?” Loras asked, drawing Renly’s attention back to him. Loras stayed sat on the counter, but he had stopped kicking his feet.
“It was alright,” he replied, shrugging a bit as he idly cleaned up. “I enjoyed playing in different concert halls and feeling the different vibes of all these places. Audiences are much different in, say…. Krakow, than they are in London.”
“I get that. When I play a footie match up North it is completely different than down South. I’ve only played a few minor matches in other parts of Europe, but they were always friendly ones, you know? Nothing serious.”
Renly nodded. “Are you still thinking about doing this professionally? Football, I mean.”
Loras nodded. “It would take something special to keep me here in England… or someone.”
Renly looked up from the sink, the water trickling slowly down on the tomato seed covered cutting board. Loras was staring back at him intently. His cheeks were pink.
“You do not mean that,” Renly said. It came out before he even knew it. But it was true—Loras did not mean that. Football was what Loras lived and breathed, and there was no way he would give it up for a person; for him. Renly would not allow it. Suddenly, he was filled once again with hesitation. Loras’ goals had always been football, and to throw that away for a boy? For a chance at love? Renly was not ready to give up his piano—why should Loras give up football?
“I mean it,” he said. He sounded very much like the love-struck seventeen year old he was, full of bold statements and finalities. “It’s my life—I can do with it what I want. If I don’t want to go forward with football, it’ll be my choice.”
“Well… think about it a little?”
“I’d have to find that someone first, anyways,” he mumbled. It stung Renly a little, but why should it? They had been flirting, but that did not mean they were together. Loras was flirtatious even with women—why was he any different?
I might have been reading this all wrong… he thought to himself. Suddenly he felt a bit sick.
He cleared his throat and turned off the water. The pasta was done and the sauce as well. Grabbing the large pot, he went to drain the water in the sink, trying to collect his heart from off the floor. “Have you not found anyone at school?” he asked casually, his voice steady.
He had to look over his shoulder to see Loras shaking his head. “Nah, none of the blokes at school are my type at all. And most of them are straight—it’s a lie when they tell you all boys schools are filled with sexually explorative young men.”
Renly could not help but laugh softly at Loras’ pout. “Okay, so none are your type. What is your type?”
“Someone different than me—I mean, they have different interests than me.”
That was surprising. Loras liked to do what he wanted to do, and rarely made room for any differences. Don’t like football? Well what good were you?
“You’re surprised,” Loras continued.
Renly turned around. “How could you tell?”
“You made a face—I know that face. You get it when I say something astute… see you’re doing it again.”
“You know the word astute?”
“You know it?”
Renly sighed. His English was not that bad. “Okay, so you do not like men who are just like you. What else?”
“Physically? I like… tall men. Taller than me, which I know is hard to find given I’m six foot, but not impossible. And I like dark haired blokes… dark brown or black. Blue eyes are particularly striking. I also like athletic men who would be willing to work out with me, and then pick me up and shag me against a wall.”
Renly coughed into his hand. Maybe I do have a chance…
“Is that all?”
Loras shrugged and smirked. “I also like accents. German accents are particularly attractive.”
“Na da schau an…” Renly said slowly, returning the smirk. His heart was successfully back in his chest, thumping away with rapid excitement. “You are very specific. Are you sure you can find a man like that?”
He nodded and stretched his hands above his head. Renly could hear a pop in his back. “I am a very particular man—I know what I want.” Dropping his arms back down, he pushed himself off the counter and approached Renly. For a moment Renly thought Loras was going to get what he wanted, but instead he peered over his shoulder and into the sink. “What about you?” he asked, reaching out to steal a noodle. “What do you look for?”
He looked at Renly through his lashes. Renly felt his tongue go fat in his mouth, but managed to scramble out an answer fit for the record books. “I like men who know what they want.”
Nailed it.
Loras looked up from the noodles, and Renly could feel his breath against his lips. He smelled like roses and lemons, fresh from the shower, and his skin had a dewy glow to it, cheeks pink and lips soft. His hair was barely dried, curls still damp and soft, and Renly reached up to push them back behind his hear, relishing in the way they felt as they slipped through his fingers.
Loras closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, a soft hum of pleasure carrying through to Renly.
“Is anyone home?”
A loud bang from down the hallway broke them apart, Renly’s hand snapping back and slamming into the counter behind him. Loras looked like his heart had leapt out of his mouth, eyes wide and skin pale, no longer pink and bright.
There were footsteps heard down the hallway, along with a conversation between a man and a woman, with the man saying he recognized the car parked outside.
“It’s Garlan and Leonette,” Loras said. He had taken a step back from Renly in that short time—miles too far, if Renly was going to be honest.
Renly glanced over at the door to the kitchen just as Garlan and Leonette entered, carrying a basket full of English Christmas goods. The English did not know how to make proper Christmas goods, but that was why Renly was here. Eventually, they would see the true light, and know that a German Christmas was the only Christmas.
“What are you doing here?” Garlan asked Loras, forgoing all greetings in order to interrogate Loras. Loras, for his part, had the tact to look ashamed.
“I got bored. We weren’t doing anything anyways—it’s not like I missed a test,” he explained, accepting a hug from both Garlan and Leonette.
“Sure, sure. Just don’t make a habit of it,” he said as he came to shake Renly’s hand. “Good to see you, Renly. How was your trip?”
“It was alright,” he replied. He kissed Leonette on the cheek, smiling brightly at her as she passed him a packet of heart shaped gingerbread.
“They’re from Munich, and they have peach inside them,” she explained as she scanned the kitchen, eying the pasta. She looked back at Renly, “I thought maybe you would enjoy them more than the fruit cake.”
Well now Renly could not be angry they had interrupted—she had given him peach filled gingerbread.
“You’re a goddess,” he said, “I’ll share them with you.”
“You could share this pasta.”
Garlan came up behind her and rested his chin on the top of her head. He raised his brows as he looked at the sink full of pasta. “Oh, what timing. Mind if we join you two?”
Renly glanced over at Loras who had gone rifling through the basket, acting as if nothing had just transpired between them. For a health nut, he sure had a tendency to weak in the knees when confronted with sugared goods. “Yeah, sure,” he said, turning back to the two.
There would be no more romance that night. The mood was ruined.
But the possibilities were just opening up.
XX
Renly never thought he would sleep with Loras before they even kissed.
Literally sleep with Loras. Not ‘rub one out with your best mate’ sleep, but more ‘curled up on a large plush couch on Christmas Day’ sleep.
It had been a long day, filled with copious amounts of eggnog and brandy, dominosteine and gingerbread. Gifts were opened at a leisurely pace, and they relaxed by the fire when all was said and done, wrapping paper and boxes splayed out across the floor as they admired their gifts and thanking one another time and time again. The lazy pace had left Renly feeling tired but content—tired enough to have a nap, but content enough to keep awake for just a little longer, not wanting to miss out on the moment.
Christmas in Munich was something special—something magical, almost. The Night Market was eagerly looked forward to by everyone, the twinkling lights and the smell of fresh baked goods following you in your dreams throughout the year. The traditions of a German Christmas were something to behold, and despite Renly’s shit home life, Christmas had remained a positive in his life.
But nothing beat the company the Tyrells brought. He cherished every moment he had with all of them—even when the extended family came over for dinner, their eclectic mix of personalities something Renly easily got used to. But as the morning turned into afternoon, and those who could cook wandered off to the kitchen to begin the expansive and delicious dinner, Renly began to give in to the urge to nap.
And Loras joined him.
The two excused themselves as Mace watched an old game of football, and wandered down to the den in the converted cellar, where a large, leather, plush couch awaited their imminent nap. Loras did not ask to join and Renly did not inquire, the two easily understanding what one another wanted. If Renly needed any further hints that Loras was interested in him, this was certainly it. The couch was a bit too small for two grown men, but they made it work, Renly lying on his back with Loras squished half on top of him, the rest of him pushed against the back of the couch. Curls tickled his cheek and neck, and his arm was numb, but it had to be the most comfortable position Renly had ever been in his life.
He had to give it to his home life—it certainly made him starved for affection, so much so he was willing to undergo the dreaded arm-numb just to be close to Loras. It was worth it, though. Oh how it was worth it. The nap was not anything special— Renly drifting off almost as soon as they had laid down, but the wakeup… that was the special part.
He woke before Loras did. The room was quiet and dark, save for a lone yellow light that shone in the corner behind them. Warm and comfortable (despite the numb arm), Renly kept his arm wrapped around Loras’ waist and held him close, enjoying the silence…
Save for Loras’ light snore.
Smiling to himself, he rested his chin on top of Loras’ head, briefly wondering if Loras was suffocating. His face was pressed hard against his neck, breath gently tickling his skin, and every sixth breath or so would be a soft snore, punctuating the silence they created in their little bubble. Anyone could come and pop it, but oddly enough, Renly was not worried. It was Christmas—only miracles happened on Christmas.
He found he was idly tracing patterns on Loras’ lower back, fingers gliding across the bumps of his spine and the dip as he went lower. He stopped, finding it a bit intrusive to be doing so (why cuddling with Loras and smelling his hair was any less intrusive, Renly would never know).
On the sixth snore, a grunt was heard, and Renly felt Loras shift on top of him, bony elbows digging into his side briefly before a very groggy voice broke through. “Why’d you stop?”
Immediately Renly started up again, a spike of pleasure coursing through him as Loras hummed with contentment against his neck. His heart started to beat a little faster, and that silly grin he had woken with continued to widen. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and let out a soft chuckle as Loras raised his head. His hair was a complete mess, and his eyes were half-shut as he peered at him with an owlish look.
“Why you laughing?” he asked, smiling lazily. He reached up and brushed his hair back, only causing the curls to bounce back over his face.
“You just look adorable,” Renly said, “Like a… a dandelion.”
Loras twisted his lips and made a face, but it lasted only a second before he was smiling again. Renly feared Loras might get up and leave, as he was beginning to move around, but was pleased to see he was only shifting into a more comfortable spot on top of Renly. “Sorry we can’t all look devilishly handsome when we wake.”
“You think I look devilishly handsome?” he asked, quirking a brow.
Loras shrugged and rested his elbow beside Renly’s head. “I suppose so…” he mumbled as he began to play with Renly’s hair. “Handsome… pretty… no, pretty doesn’t cover it. Gorgeous is a better word. Sexy… manly… and… beautiful.”
Renly felt his cheeks go red. He was the one who was supposed to seduce Loras—not the other way round. “Did you read a book on how to compliment men?”
“Nah, this is all from my noggin.”
“Noggin?”
“Head.” Loras smiled. “I love your accent… teach me something in German.”
“What did you want to know?”
“How do you say… football in German?”
How did I know you were going to ask that? “Fußball”
“Well that’s a bit boring.”
Renly shrugged awkwardly, his shoulders inhibited by the couch beneath him. “German is not very imaginative.”
“Say something else in German. What is your favourite expression?”
Renly flipped through his catalogue of German expressions, trying to think of something entertaining to say, but was distracted by Loras on top of him. He smelled like rich spices and roses, and no doubt tasted of the cakes he had been eating all day. His hair was a mess, but soft and bouncy to the touch, and his eyes were dark and green, flecks of gold swirling about as he stared intently down at him. His weight, his heat, his scent… fick mich.
Love is a risk, Renly, but it’s so worth it if you take the chance...
“Ich glaube, ich liebe dich.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think I love you.”
Renly did not have to wait long for Loras’ response. Almost immediately Loras’ lips were on his, and it was in that moment that all the self-doubt and guilt slipped away. His lips were soft and full, gentle at first, but becoming more forceful as Renly pushed back, his hand sliding up his shirt so fingertips could dance across bare skin.
His lips parted under Loras’, allowing Loras to take the lead as he always did. He tasted of brandy and cinnamon, and of promises and potential.
When they parted it was slowly, neither wanting to move to far from one another, Renly chasing after a second embrace. He opened his eyes and searched Loras’ face, seeing nothing but a love he had dreamed of all his life reflecting back. He wanted to say something—anything—in an attempt to fill the silence, but it was Loras who spoke first, his lips brushing his own.
“See,” he mumbled… he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips, “I always get what I want.”
They kissed again, laughter slipping past his lips, filling Loras with certainty as their hands roamed and their hearts connected. He had missed this; the excitement that came with starting up a new relationship. He had boyfriends before—two, one in Germany and one in England—and they had always started out with that familiar double-beat of the heart, sweaty palms and clumsy confessions.
But it was different with Loras. Yes, there was still the frantic heart beat and the giddy feelings associated with what could only be described as lust, but there was something more with Loras. Like every sensation was that much more—and like every step meant so much more. This was not just a fling or a fun thing to do on the side while he continued on with his life, like all the other men had been. No, this was serious. This was part of Renly’s life, not just a side dish he would indulge in now and again. He wanted to be with Loras at all times; share in everything with him, from the good and the bad.
Their relationship was more than just an orgasm. It was a friendship and, he hoped, a romance. He, for once, felt like opening up to Loras—open up about everything. From his troubled home-life to his feelings of self-worthlessness, and his longing to just connect with someone. About why he pushed away from his brothers so much, and sought the approval and love of everyone—strangers and friends alike. He needed to be loved; he craved affection.
And Loras was slowly giving it to him, whether he knew it or not.
It was a lot to put on the shoulders of a seventeen year old, he realized as they lay on the couch. But Royce’s words were still ringing in his ears, and the taste of scotch on his tongue reminded him he was tipsy enough to go for it, but sober enough to want it, enjoy it, and remember it. They could worry about the complexities later. For now, Renly would enjoy Loras taking what he wanted.