Daffodils
—Loras Tyrell, Jamie Lannister
Summary: 10 sneaky hook ups on how to deceive the mind as one deceives the heart.
(01)
Loras kisses differently from Cerci.
Jamie notices with the quick efficiency of a lover who loves forbiddingly and discards the thought with compromising indifference. But he is not Cerci. Jamie shoves his tongue further inside, head shifting into a new angle.
Loras' mouth is a warm, dry cavern—soft and sweet. Tastes like spring.
His hands brushes, squeezes Loras' smooth thighs. Jamie doesn't mind Loras' taste—if only it doesn't feel like his tasting someone whose been divested of its lover for a long time.
(02)
Back against the wall, hips bucking, hands writhing wildly, legs shaking, hearts beating faster as their breaths come out in a short huff.
Jamies presses himself against Loras, his mouth never leaving his as they slide against each other—wet and desperate.
Loras breathes hotly against Jamie's ear; holding each other upright as they continued to move. Jamie listens quietly; eyes shutting close as he pushes Loras harder against the wall.
(03)
Loras make (—is) a good lover.
He kisses fervently, touches gently, softly, and grinds his hips in the most passionate way.
Jamie agrees, moans in the most softest he can as his fingers tangle themselves—lost in the golden nest of Loras' hair. Loras pushes his hips against him, plants wet open-mouthed kisses on his neck as his hands gripped the mattresses in a pity action of self-control.
Their bodies tangled easily underneath the sheets. Hands fitting in each flesh they palm. Mouths opening with acceptance as they claim each other whole.
(04)
30. Alleys. 40. Bed. 19. Backdoor, kitchen. 25. Training room. 19. Jamie's. 16. Bath—
In truth, they've lost count. But can never forget where; how many times, what position, why at that moment or particular place and what kind of lie they'd told just to have some secret privacy.
Jamie turns his head and starts to kiss Loras in (romantically) complicated angle. Fingers smoothing the sides of his jaw, rubbing an unidentifiable pattern on his skin.
Loras, if he's going to be honest with himself—rather forgets what he is, who he is, what he's supposed to be doing, what he's not supposed to be doing—when Jamie is kissing him, touching him, rubbing against him, pushing flush against him. Smoothing out warm hands against his skin, like what he's doing right now.
Jamie opens his mouth and shifts his head to the side, allowing Loras to press closer against his mouth while he half-distractedly ignores the warm feeling that is travelling upward towards his chest instead of the other way around. It tickles warmly inside, making his heart beat faster, his head slightly dizzy as Loras slides his thighs against his.
(05)
Jamie Lannister is certain that he does not like men.
No. Certainly not ser. But he sucks on Loras' inner thigh anyways as he might suck on Cerci's when they are alone, together on bed.
He takes a discomforting delight in hearing the Knight o' Pansies' soft, surprised gasp—a sound Loras might make if it was a black haired going down on him—reaches for Jamie's blond hair and tangles his fingers there, tugging.
And there it was again—a silent trickle of warmth, pooling inside his chest, making his heart gallop faster than any horse. Jamie lets the feeling stay for a moment before he discards it as he efficiently palms Loras between the legs. No. Does not. Certainly not.
He'll come back for it later when it's…safe, and he hopes to all the gods up there, that when he entertains that feeling, he'll find that it's not love.
No. Can't be. Certainly won't be. Shouldn't be.
(06)
The sun is almost setting, casting a steady orange light upon the open corridor.
Jamie pauses on his walk, spotting from a distance a blonde and raven headed squire in light armors talking, holds his breath upon the sight—Jamie swallows.
And continues his walk. He does not pause nor took time to look at them, but falls for the itch to take a quick glance at the blonde just to check if he was looking at him. He was not.
Jamie exhales shakily when he reaches his quarters, takes off his boots and throws one at the wall. A small part of the fire in his chest has died down in satisfaction of his nonexistent tantrum; Jamie closes his eyes and tries to completely extinguish the fire until it became only an itch that can be satisfied.
Later when he's arduously fucking Loras—he's praying to all gods that he is—can— not be jealous.
(by the fourth time he's already begging that he can't—isn't possibly in love.)
(07)
There is pain throbbing on the fine layer of their skin. Piercing deeper and deeper as they wrestle each other into being still, into submission (of one's feelings).
Jamie holds Loras down, taking advantage of the fact that the man he is pinning is breathless, legs shaking from the continuous onslaught of Jamie's mouth, hands and tongue.
Sweat covers their skin, rolling down the planes of their bodies as they huffed and panted. Loras palms Jamie's cheek softly while he nips and suck the abdomen, groin, inner thigh. The palm slowly, languidly, tiredly travels downwards, catches Jamie's chin and with a swift flick of a wrist—flashing green eyes is staring back up to golden ones.
Loras takes the chance with Jamie looking distracted, turns the tables and pins the golden Lannister against the wall. Golden eyes flashed as a semi-smug smirk and smile that curves Loras' lips. There's no turning back now.
"My turn."
(08)
Not love.
They bodies twists, tangles, shifts.
Not jealousy.
Fingernails marking red up and down, here and there, long and short, deep and deeper.
No love.
Jamie chokes a gasp, passes it to Loras with a sloppy open-mouthed kiss the lasted until their lungs burned and they shift into a new position.
No love.
Wet thighs slides against each other, desperate, begging, furious as hands grappled hair, neck, marking smooth skin, bumping against sharp shoulder blazes along the way.
No love.
Loras inhales deeply exhales shakily, clutching at Jamie's neck as they moved in the sync patter with their beating heart and racing mind.
(nolovenolovenolovenolovenolovenolovenolovenolovenolovenolove—no escape)
(09)
They've been repeating no all over again, wearing a cloak of denial as they spew out lies, fucking—making slow, memorably passionate fake love.
That they didn't notice, somewhere along the way—they had said yes. Yes yes yes yes yes yes. Until the currents of their emotions are sweeping them off their feet, taking them under until they are drowning.
(10)
They'd lie a thousand (millions) more times until they have exhausted each other of each other.
Would do it in a heartbeat, in flashing nano second if it meant having Loras' warm body next to him, if it meant keeping all those kisses to himself, if it meant riding an eternal ecstasy. Even if it meant death.
Jamie grazes his fingertips across Loras' back, observes in a silent manner. Plants the softest kiss, he'll ever do, against the cooling skin. Just between the shoulders blazes—where he knows Loras' heartbeat will be pulsing beneath his lips.