WARNING: This is a Yaoi/MalexMale fic. If you do not support/like this type of writing, please do NOT read.
Here is a request fic I did for someone on Tumblr a while ago. I apologize, because I can not recall their username, since it really was a while ago on my blog ;_; but it is about a little encounter between a very overly-dramatic swordsman and a bumbling priest. ;) Enjoy!
...
He mumbled in annoyance to himself as he dragged the large bags that his mother had pushed into his chest. The moment he would begin to speak to her, she would simply usher him off to do some random chore, that he assumed she pulled out of thin air, around the barrack buildings. He sighed; guess it was to be expected. She was much younger in this time period after all. She was somewhat rambunctious, just as he was. He chuckled; figured that's where he got it from.
After walking down the long hallway for what seemed an eternity, he dropped the bags along the wall and slumped into them, letting out a long sigh. He was so bored, and the darn bags were heavier than his 'strong hand' could handle. He looked down at his twitching palm and clenched his fist; it was getting desperate for a battle. Being stuck at this camp hold was getting less and less fun at every day that passed. All there was was talk of repairing armor, gathering supplies, and a bunch of other things that just plain did not seem interesting to him. He would see his fellow comrades training out on the grounds, but whenever he would ask to join, they would come up with some excuse and walk off. Once, when he approached Brady working on a training routine, the priest glowered at him, and called him an 'over-dramatic child living in a fantasy world', after which he stormed off. He would mull over his words almost every day after that, and today was no exception. He looked back down at his hand, which was slowly going numb from his clenching. Did he really come off like that...especially to Brady?
He let out another dramatic sigh, stood, and readjusted the bags onto his back. 'Better get this bag to the cleaning room before mother finds me and zaps me,' he thought, rolling his eyes, and shoving his thoughts into the back of his mind. He lugged by the meeting hall and paused for a moment, hearing the chatter of his fellow comrades, more than likely going over the plans for their next move, and possibly the next big battle. This he was definitely interested in. He tried his best to lower the bags to the floor quietly, as he used the toe of his boot to push the door slightly open.
He could see Chrom, the leader of the Shepherds, as well as his beloved uncle, and Robin, their tactician, leaning over a table. The ever watchful Fredrick the Wary, his uncle's faithful knight and guard, was standing at their side, hands behind his back as usual. Their words were only mumbles to his ears, so he tried to lean in more and more; but his weight was thrown off balance by the heavy bags. With a regretful "Oh no!" he tumbled into the meeting hall, strewing clothing about the room and slamming his face into the stone floor. The unsheathing of swords and an electric crackle greeted him as he raised his head slowly, to meet the glaring eyes of the men in the room.
Chrom sighed deeply, returning his sword to its place at his side. "Gods dammit, Owain! You scared us half to death!" Robin let out his held breath and slumped into a chair, dropping his book, and Frederick's scowl deepened at the blonde boy. "You should know better to act in such a manner, child," he scolded, and Owain frowned in return. "I am no child, sir! I was merely wishing to ascertain the plot which you all were laying for our next great and glorious battle! For that day I shall prepare with wit and sword alike! Pray, allow me to assist-"
"Enough Owain."
Chrom held up his hand, an angry film over his eyes. "This does not and will not concern you. Pick up this mess and go on with your chores. We will inform everyone once we have a plan laid out." And with that, they forced him out of the room, tossed the bags to him, and shut the door with a thud. He scowled and kicked the door, and than cursed himself for doing something so childish; especially considering kicking the door hurt his foot something awful.
Again with being called a child; by his uncle no less! Well, granted he didn't say it to him directly; but he knew it was implied. All he was trying to do was show he wanted to be useful and help. He knew he could fight; he'd proven it many a-time. Despite his cursed hand...
He frowned, and looked down at it again. He knew his hand wasn't really cursed or crazed or anything of the sort. He just...had himself convinced he needed to have a dramatic back-story as such to someday 'become the stuff of legends'. That was his ultimate goal. And to prove to his mother, and uncle, he was worthy of their lineage. And prove to Brady...
'Prove what to Brady?' he scoffed to himself. The man was a dark loner who kept everything to himself and practically avoided any form of contact. What could he possibly prove to that damned priest? He sighed; prove he wasn't a child living in a ridiculous fantasy world, that's what. His words still burned in Owain's head. He had known Brady from before they had come to this new time. And some how, being here, made Brady seem...different. He wasn't sure what it was about this man that stuck with him so hard; but it was really eating at him. Watching him train that day, he was pushing himself so hard. It was rather admirable. Like he was working so much harder than before. It made Owain almost feel weak in comparison. Maybe that's why he was acting...
As he walked further along the hall, he was so consumed with his thoughts, that he didn't notice the soft sobbing coming from a bedroom he had passed. He took a few steps back and stopped in front of the door leading to Brady and Inigo's room. The sobbing was definitely coming from here. He closed his eyes and listened; the tone was deep. Far too deep to be Inigo...
Brady?
He set the bags on the floor and slowly pushed the door open, peeking inside. The young priest was sitting with his back to the door, and his shoulders were shaking slightly. He sighed, knowing he would regret engaging him in conversation, but figured he had nothing else to do. He knocked softly, causing Brady to jump to his feet and turn, putting his hands behind his back. He furiously swiped his sleeve at his face and placed his scowl on.
"What makes you think you can sneak up on me, huh, tough guy?" he growled, trying hard to keep up his intimidation. Owain smirked and held up a hand. "Nay, my friend, I merely wished to come and bare witness to what may be troubling you! Mine ears could hear your discomfort from the hall." Brady rolled his eyes, ever annoyed at Owain's theatrical speech. "Nothing is 'troubling me'," he mumbled, turning his face away, "so you can just take yourself right out my room now!" The swordsman chuckled, and walked further into the room, causing the priest to tense. "Please, good sir," he said, motioning towards Brady, "share with me thine secret of which you decide to hide." This statement elicited a small "Huh?" from him, and Owain sighed, placing a hand to his forehead. "What are you hiding behind your back?" he said, the flourish out of his voice.
Brady was taken aback a bit by his falling out of character, and a slight red tinge rose in his cheeks. "It's nothin'," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "C'mon, I know you're hiding something," Owain teased, smirking.
"No I'm not-!"
"Mew..."
They both froze at the small, sudden sound. Brady's face flamed and he looked away, his scowl deepening. Owain crossed his arms, not taking his eyes off the priest. With an annoyed sigh of defeat, Brady brought his hands forward, revealing a small kitten in his hands. It meowed again, and Brady pulled it close to his chest.
"You can't tell anyone about this!" he cried, looking down at the kitten. "If you do they'll take her away from me, and call me a weakling or something for keeping her and...and...!" His shoulders began to tremble again and he covered his eyes with his sleeve. Owain frowned. "Why in the Seven Hells do you have a kitten in your room in the first place?" Brady sat on the bed, cuddling the small creature. "I found her when I went to town with Inigo. She was just laying there on the ground, all hungry and helpless looking. I couldn't stand it!" He sniffed and rubbed the kitten's head gently. "I've been taking care of her for about a week now, bringin' scraps for her whenever I get a chance. She's gotten bigger and healthier now," he said, smiling down at the small creature.
Owain took in the sight of this usually intimidating and brooding man, now sitting here looking soft and gentle. It truly astounded him. He smiled beside himself at his observation, which caused the man before him to look up and frown. "What's with the look? Thinkin' I'm some kinda weakling now, huh!?" Owain snapped out of his mindset, startled as the man stood, coming toe to toe with him. "Wanna throw down? I'll prove how tough I am! Just cause I have a pet doesn't make me any less strong as you, ya know!" The grimace grew darker as he loomed over the swordsman, and this slightly intimidated him. But, a small squeaking noise caused them both to pause.
They both looked down at his clenched hands, as he was beginning to squeeze tight on the kitten. Brady cried in horror and began to sob uncontrollable. "Oh Gods, I am so sorry Lily! Oh, please forgive me, I am so sorry!" He cuddled the kitten to his chest, tears pouring down his face. Owain covered his mouth, trying to hide his wide smile. "I didn't know you had such a sentimental side, Brady," he teased, chuckling as the priest turned to glare at him. He took his attention away from the swordsman for a moment, noticing the kitten had calmed and he sighed with relief, placing her back in her make-shift bedding. He than stood again, crossing his arms defensively. "So I like cats. What's the big deal!?"
"The big deal is, you cried like a baby over it! You even named it!" he said, breaking out into a fit of laughter. "Her," Brady corrected, his face reddening again. Owain hooted even more, practically falling over onto the bed. This made the priest flare more, and he growled in frustration.
"Stop being so damn childish!"
Owain immediately stopped laughing and glared at him. He jumped slightly at the sudden change, but stood his ground. However, when he heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed, he tensed. The swordsman's blade was pointed at him, anger flaring in his eyes. "I am NOT childish! I refuse to allow anyone to call me that ever again!" He placed his hand over his face, taking his trademark pose. "I am Owain of the Exalted Blood! My mark shall speak as such! I am thine hand of Truth and Justice! Mine shall become the song of bards of days yet to come and their songs shall sing of my glory!"
Brady sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "As I said. Childish."
Owain sighed and dropped his arms, his head falling forward into his chest. "C'mon, Brady! Knock it off! I am being completely serious here!" The priest chuckled, crossing his arms. "Than stop with the theatrics. That stuff gets pretty old, ya know. Even back in our time I found it incredibly annoying." Those words stung, and he looked away, the hurt apparent on his face. Brady sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean you're annoyin'. I just mean that...ugh...that acting of yours is." This caused a sideways glare and he sighed in exasperation. "I'm tryin' here, alright?! I've never been good with words. Why you think I never talk to anyone?" He sat on the bed, holding his head in his hands.
"I'm not as strong as you, or the rest of everyone. So, I act tough, and keep to myself," he grumbled, pounding his fists into his knees. "Yeah, sure, I'm a sentimental weakling. Wanna hear me admit it? There, I did!" he flared, crossing his arms in front of him defensively. Owain sighed and sat next to him on the bed. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought you were weak. In fact, I figured you to be stronger than me," he said, laughing at himself. Brady turned to him, his eyes dark with doubt. "It's true," he continued. "I wanted to train with you in hopes you could teach me a thing or two. I know I put on this...'theatrical' front," he reluctantly admitted, eliciting a small smile from the priest, "but I too feel like I am weak." He rubbed his arm, right over his mark.
"I worry, that I will never be worthy of my family's mark. That I will never be strong enough to keep my mother and father, my comrades, safe." He looked at Brady, his eyes beginning to brim with tears. "If anyone is weak here, it is me. Despite how I act, despite what I show. I think about our past, and all I see are the ones I care about dying. I do not wish to repeat that. But knowing all that has happened, fills me with doubt. Can I be strong enough to prevent these events from happening again? Am I worthy...?"
He looked away, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He hated opening up like this; it made him feel so vulnerable. And in front of this man. A man, who made him question so much, but yet accept his own true feelings and doubts, about himself. Get him to actually open up and show who he truly was behind all the show. He wanted to stay around him. He knew it, deep down inside, and he accepted it. The haunting feeling was now becoming clear. He felt like he could do anything, with this priest by his side...
His mind returned to reality once again when he realized a hand was on his cheek and warm lips were pressed against his. His eyes widened at first from sheer surprise, but slowly fluttered shut as the warm feeling began to settle within him. Brady pulled away slowly, keeping his hand on the swordsman's cheek.
"You are more than worthy," he said reassuringly. "And believe me when I say you are strong. You don't need these wordy flourishes to prove it, ya know. Just...be Owain. Not this wanna-be legendary hero," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. Owain laughed, sniffling slightly, still a little shocked from the simple kiss. Brady's hand was still on his cheek, his fingers caressing his skin softly. "I like this side of you, Brady," he mumbled softly. "Should definitely show it more often."
Brady chuckled, and brought his face close again, "I can show ya some more if you like."
Before he could respond, his lips came down hard, eliciting a small groan from the swordsman. He buried his hand in the blonde man's hair, tugging it lightly. His other hand drifted to his belt, unbuckling it, dropping his famed sword to the floor. Brady pushed him back onto the bed, without breaking their kiss, and began to undo the buckles of his armor. He soon had the front of his underclothes open, and he pulled away, looking down at him. The red tinge from his face had spread to his chest and stomach, and he was looking away shyly. "That's not a look I'm used to seein' on you," he teased, and Owain set a hard glare on him. "And I didn't peg you as a dominant type," he retorted, causing Brady to blush. "Yeah, well...you kinda...bring it outta me," he mumbled, rubbing his neck. Owain chuckled and leaned up, kissing his cheek. "I don't mind it," he said, laying back, "if it'll help you come out of your shell."
Brady smirked down at the man beneath him, and leaned down, attacking his throat. Owain moaned unwillingly, the sensation catching him off guard. Brady tugged his own cloak off, and soon both men were shirtless and panting. Owain managed to kick off his boots as Brady went about undoing his pantaloons. He pulled them off completely, and removed his boots and leggings as well. He climbed back atop the swordsman, both slightly embarrassed at how quickly they were moving with one another. "I never imagined, developin' feelings for another man," Brady confessed, kissing his neck softly. "Neither did I," Owain sighed, running a hand through his now messy hair. "But, I'm glad it was you," he added, smiling at the priest. "You helped me realize a lot. And for that, I am eternally in your debt." He placed his hands on his shoulders, trustingly. Brady's face flushed and he looked away. "Don't gotta be all showy with me, ya know," he mumbled. Owain placed a hand on his chin and turned him to look at him. "No acting. I mean it. I want us to train and get stronger. Together."
The priest's eyes searched the swordsman's, and he saw no doubt. He nodded, and kissed him again deeply, this time pushing all the passion he could into it. Owain wrapped his arms around his neck, wanting to be as close as he could. Brady rested himself against him, wrapping his legs around his waist. He ran his hand down his side, along his waist, down to his bottom. His fingers gently squeezed the warm flesh, and he grew taught in reflex. He moved his hand to his front, caressing his waist, and slowly worked his way towards his now fully erect member. He gingerly touched it, causing Owain to twitch a little; since this was new to both of them, he wanted to be as gentle as possible. He ran a finger along his shaft, watching his face for reaction. Owain nodded, and he wrapped his hand around, pumping him slowly. His eyes closed at the feeling, and Brady leaned down, kissing along his stomach. He soon felt the hot, wetness of his mouth around him and he moaned. He looked down to see Brady's head slowly bobbing and he bit his lip. He stopped suddenly, and he groaned in protest, but when he saw him stick two fingers in his mouth, he tilted his head in confusion. Brady blushed deeply and told him to stop watching; he was embarrassed.
He chuckled and laid his head back down, closing his eyes, only for them to pop back open when he felt those two fingers being pressed against his only entrance. He picked his head back up and looked at Brady, concern written on his face. "So it...so it doesn't hurt..." he grumbled, and Owain swallowed, letting his head drop. Brady slipped one finger in slowly, and he winced a little. As he worked that finger around, he soon slipped the other one in, using it to stretch him. He tried not to tense, but it felt strange, and he wiggled a little. Brady stilled him but climbing back atop him, his fingers still working on him. His free hand was wrapped around his member, and he tried his best to give Owain a reassuring half smile. He repositioned his legs, and removed his fingers, replacing them with his own throbbing erection. He rubbed his tip against him, his own fluids slicking his entrance as well. Owain began to tense more, knowing what was going to happen; but Brady placed a warm hand on his hip, and kissed him. "I'll be...gentle," he said, his tone soft, and he nodded, signaling he was ready. The grip on his hip tightened, as he began to push in. Owain's faced turned into a grimace as he felt it going in, and his mouth opened in a silent cry as it was in to the hilt.
It hurt. Gods did it hurt. Brady kept still as he adjusted, wiggling a little beneath him. He made little gasping noises as he moved, but eventually those sounds turned into moans, as he was now moving himself against the priest. He began to move, thrusting gently into the swordsman. He groaned; it was really hard to hold back at this point. Owain laced his hands around Brady's neck, bringing him down for a kiss. His hands crawled up his back, and his pace began to quicken. Each were beginning to moan softly into their kisses, and Brady's pace was now rushed. He wrapped a hand around the Owain and pumped him in time with his pace. He leaned back a bit and readjusted the man so that he was slamming into him a little deeper, hitting that one spot hard. Owain began to pant as he felt his body tensing, his limbs tingling. Brady thrusted into him a few more hard times until he released inside him, in turn setting off his own orgasm. His seed was spilt all on his stomach, and they collapsed together onto the bed. They both lay panting, staring at the ceiling.
"That was...insane," Brady chuckled, covering his face with his hands. Owain looked down at the mess that was his body, and sighed. "Yeah...it sure was..." An awkwardness was beginning to set in, and it was unbearable. The priest, to his reluctance, turned his head to look at his comrade. "So, where is this gonna go?" he blurted out, honestly wanting to know the answer. Without missing a beat, Owain answered, "You'll move into my room with me, and we can begin discussing training routines."
He was thrown for a loop. "I, wait, what?" he stammered. "Exactly like I said. We can move your things into my room, and we can begin discussing our training. I was not kidding when I said we would train together." He turned his head and smiled, giving him a wink. Brady's face flushed once again and his old scowl graced his face. "Yeah, well, that's fine with me. But, uh...what about Lily?" Owain looked at him funny for a second, but once he realized who he was talking about, he broke out into laughter
"Yes, yes, your silly cat can come too."