Not Exactly a Secret: Part 1

The mountains of Lycia were torturous. Rutger had expected to be killing Bern soldiers pouring over the passes, but Roy was taking them through the supposedly safer bandit country on the Lycian lowlands—which were only low in comparison to their northeastern cousins on the other side of the border. Mountains were mountains, and Rutger hated traveling through them without a smooth road to follow. Without knowing he was striking at his enemies, there was nothing to make up for the fact that he spent his days plodding tiredly uphill until his legs ached, sliding treacherously downhill, half-terrified that the whole party would fall off the sheer mountainside, and his nights exhausted and cold.

Almost nothing, anyway. One particularly bandit free day, after chipper assurances from the Lycians that Thria was only four days away, at most, Rutger had noticed Dieck alone at the stream they had camped near, refilling his water skin.

For someone whose taste in swords ran to the ridiculously heavy and excessive, the mercenary commander was quick on his feet, and Rutger hadn't been able to catch him alone to test his mettle since Laus. Deciding to begin the dance again, Rutger grabbed his sword, and slid into the bushes, away from camp.

Cresting the ridge of the stream bank Rutger watched the scarred back from the shadow of the trees. Those scars had been made when Dieck was younger no doubt, but memories of the way Deick had blurred away from Rutger's sword only a week ago woke a bitter anger in Rutger. The myrmidon's speed gave Rutger his pay and his chance at revenge, and this huge Ilian mercenary had dodged. He had refused to even meet Rutger's blade, choosing to grin and shrug off the attack, retreating when Rutger pressed him. Dieck should be wearing at least one scar from Rutger's slim blade. Just a cut, to show the world that Rutger was better than those earlier scar makers.

In the noise of camping and getting tents out of the carter's wagon floating over the ridge, he should have gone unnoticed. But Dieck turned, looking puzzled as he scanned the undergrowth. "Shanna? What are you—"

He leaped to one side as Rutger rushed from the left. Scowling, Rutger circled, backing Dieck towards the stream. Yes, the mercenary was looking for ways to retreat. He hadn't even drawn the massive iron blade strapped to his back. No matter. Today Rutger would make him fight back.

His sword licked out, testing the air. It missed caressing Dieck's side by a hair. His target had known that, standing very still, a look of bemused surprise on his face. Then, under a series of lightning jabs, he dashed to the right, rolling back as Rutger's sword snaked out ahead of him.

"C'mon. You're not doing this. We're trying to defeat the same enemy, remember?" Dieck backed up a step, remaining in the space Rutger allowed him. Cool water, glowing bright in the sunset whipped merrily along behind him.

Rutger watched his target. "I need to know your strength as my ally, and you keep running from me."

"Then my strength is in my legs," the easy retort made Rutger's irritation burn brighter. "Look," Deick added, taking another step back, "burning up all your energy chasing me isn't the way to keep up your skills. And it's certainly not going to help mine if you cut me up."

Rutger almost dropped his guard in surprise that Dieck actually seemed to understand his reasons for their fights, and then remembered the conversation they had about boredom. Dieck wasn't so much a quick learner, as he was good at remembering what he had heard. "You're my equal or superior with your style of swordsmanship. When I can mark you in combat, I can be sure of myself. Just as you can be sure of yourself against warriors like me."

Deick rolled his eyes. "At some point this has got to stop. I'm sick of having to check every shadow for you."

"You'll thank me for the practice, eventually," Rutger stepped forward, enjoying the way he could herd Dieck into the disadvantageous ground of the stream, without the mercenary noticing. "You might even like the battles themselves."

"Probably not in the way you think."

Rutger paused, confused by the off hand response, and like a flash, Dieck kicked water into his eyes before lunging forward, and tacking him to the silt and stones left by the spring floods. Sudden bruising pain swamped him, but Rutger dropped his sword and slammed his knee into Dieck's stomach. It was rather like trying to punch a mountain, but Dieck gasped from lack of air, and Rutger shoved his shoulder, toppling the scarred body, and trapping his weapon.

Grabbing his sword again, Rutger rolled on top of Dieck, trying hard not to grin at the rush of small victories. "Nice trick."

"I'm so happy you liked it," Dieck muttered, laying still under him. "Now that you've won, can we stop this now?"

"I've secured a victory," Rutger corrected, looking down at the perforated skin of Dieck's face and chest. He frowned, seeing round, tightly drawn scars over older paler lines. Someone had burned the mercenary at some point. Burns like this didn't happen in a battle. Dieck should only wear scars from his lucky opponents. "But I didn't mark you. I haven't won yet."

He sat back, noticing that his weight wasn't making Dieck wince, even when he shifted. The mercenary commander was ridiculously strong, and yet was choosing to lie still under him. Something swooped in his stomach, and Rutger wasn't sure if he should be irritated that Dieck wasn't fighting him when he could be, or pleased that Dieck had chosen to give in to his victory. Admittedly, he was probably giving in out of laziness, Rutger thought sourly, and he leaned forward again, pressing his sword to Dieck's throat.

"You should fight me."

"It's been a long day, and I'm tired."

"That's no excuse," Rutger snarled, though it had been a long day, and he was glad to be resting here and not moving. "I'll cut you, if you don't fight back."

"And then you'll claim victory and leave me alone?" Dieck grinned. "I'm willing, if that's what this takes."

Rutger scowled at him, and threw down his sword. "This is infuriating. I know you're better than this. You're a real challenge to best, and then you turn around and—You can't win by giving up!"

"I have most of my life," Dieck countered softly. "Besides, I want to know how far you'd press me."

Rutger glared. "I want to carve you into pieces. I want everyone to look at you, and know that you were imy/i opponent. But I want to iearn/i it."

Under his thighs, he could feel Dieck's breathing hitch in the middle of his rant, and as Rutger ended it, Dieck pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the lighter mercenary's weight on his abdomen. Rutger hissed at how easily he was displaced onto Dieck's lap. Then his eyes widened, as something poked him from below.

Dieck grinned a little lopsidely. "Now that's an expression I didn't think I'd see on your face. It looks a lot better than anger, malice, fury, and more anger."

"We were just fighting."

"And I don't really want to be fighting."

Rutger saw enough sense in that to lunge forward, pushing Dieck back into the mud, kissing him with more teeth than tongue. Gratifyingly, Dieck didn't even try to push him off, and even seemed to welcome the agression. Surprisingly, his strong hands found Rutger's thighs and held on, pressing their bodies together through wet trousers. As Rutger bit down on the captured lower lip, he felt Dieck grinding against him.

In the euphoric burst of friction and hard heat, Rutger realized he was being allowed far more leeway just kissing than he ever had been given before. A certainty stole over him. Whatever he did, even if it left bruises, or ripped open skin, Dieck wouldn't object. He reached for Dieck's throat, tilting the firm jaw so that he could bite deeper. In the morning, Dieck would still feel Rutger's teeth on his skin, and he wouldn't be able to walk straight—

Rutger pulled away, trying to contain his surprise at how far this was going. Annoyingly calm, as far as Rutger could see, despite swollen lips and glazed eyes, Dieck breathed for a few moments, before raising an eyebrow in Rutger's direction. "You'd prefer to continue chopping me up after that? Wow, you iare/i single minded."

Rutger sneered. "Not if you kick your mercenary buddies out of your tent tonight."

The easy relaxation suddenly hardened. "No."

"I don't have a tent, yet. Are they going to like seeing their captain getting fucked until he bleeds?"

Dieck chuckled. "That's your plan? No. They wouldn't like that."

"So kick them out. I don't like interruptions."

Dieck shook his head. "You get a tent. Or we could do this outside," but Dieck was frowning at the stones leading up the the banked ridge.

Rutger followed his gaze. "Shale, and it goes all the way through the camp. You're not going to want to be picking that out of your hands and knees in the morning."

"You're a real romantic," Dieck paused, hearing the bang of a cauldron that was the call for supper. In the growing shadows of sundown, Rutger watched hungry eyes flick from the springy pine trees protecting the camp to Rutger and back. There was some form of invisible calculation, and the breath that Dieck let out when he made up his mind shivered up Rutger's chest. "Fine. Nobody will be in the tent until moonrise, now. I'm yours for that long. Now let me up. My back hurts."

Rutger kissed him one last time, instead, licking at the coppery taste from the earlier wounds. His until moonrise. Rutger liked the sound of that enough that he helped Dieck up, and didn't even make any comments about the way Dieck's wet trousers left nothing to the imagination about his interests that evening.

Notes:

So, MF updates, and it's for a completely different fandom, an overt romance story, and was actually completed, not 90% complete by the time I posted it here. Basically Not Exactly A Secret is a different animal than most of my multichapter works (though it continues a long running theme of "if a person is hurting, they need to build support networks or implode"). I'm going to be uploading it on all of the usual suspects: Livejournal, Dreamwidth, FF.N, and AO3. Since it was started on the Dreamwidth Kinkmeme, however, readers should know that the FF.N update will be probably significantly different in the chapters that don't fade to black before the smut ensues. One, this will respect FF.N's policies regarding explicit material, and two, which I think is more important, it provides a version that people who aren't huge fans of wading through indifferent purple prose to get to the characterization and plot can enjoy.

All that aside, though, this did originate in a kink meme prompt, and if you're uncomfortable with a gay guy and a bi guy getting together and having not well supervised fun times that skirt the edges of pain and pleasure this probably isn't the fic for you.