Alright, fair warning: contains some minor homoerotic elements. These have been long overdue to be posted for the general public.
Also sorry that Part II is kind of wall-of-texty, didn't quite make the forum transfer as gracefully as the rest.
All written by me. Enjoy.
--
"You know what this means. You know our love will not survive in our current situation."
Ramses sighed, sitting up amongst the moonlit silk sheets. Propping a pillow behind him, he gazed at his lover lying next to him.
"Yes, Loki, I am aware of the circumstances."
"If we are to truly tell the rest of our love affair, we cannot have a North American leading. My continent, my country, still has laws preventing our love."
"The rest of the American clan population would rebel," Ramses whispered in agreement.
"But with a Danish in charge, everything will be sweet." Loki licked his lips. "I love Danishes."
Ramses gently brushed a lock of Loki's golden hair with a soft finger. "The clan will accept this. They trust me."
"But Ramses, sweet Ramses, will this not be seen as favouritism? My lover, taking leadership of the Fallen?"
"You know they fear me. If I start shouting, they will listen." Ramses gazed deep into Loki's face. There was sadness there. But also hope. "They must listen."
Loki's eyes smoldered. In a low, dusky voice, he breathed, "Show me this discipline. Show me your ways of controlling men."
Ramses smiled. Leaning out of bed, he drew the curtains closed, plunging the two lovers back into darkness.
"Hopefully the clan will not notice my European ping over the next few days. They might suspect-" Loki broke off with a low moan of desire.
--
Lust governs the Fallen Brigade.
Lust for battle, and lust for pleasure.
--
“Why? Why must you abandon your clan, your people, your warriors, for this? Why, Loki, my dearest?”
Loki looked down at Ramses, his head of dusky-brown hair resting on Loki's moonlit, muscular chest. “Ramses, they are not my people. They are yours now. And in any case, our affairs are none of their concern. Love decides fate, and while I love the clan and the soldiers, I am yearning within my heart for something greater. Something...” He closed his eyes. “Something deeper,” he whispered softly, a touch of breath upon Ramses' silken mane.
Ramses turned his head, looking upward at Loki's face, silhouetted in the silvery moonlight. “I treasure your presence as a warrior within our clan, one who is taking a much-needed break, but one who will return. Is that not to be so? I fear that if you make this decision, we shall never see your fine figure on the field of battle again.” A single tear rolled out from a brilliant blue eye. “And that I do not think I can handle.”
Loki gently glided his fingers through Ramses' hair, admiring the soft strands. “I love you. But I do not love this game we play any more.” His eyes opened, his own tears flowing freely. “Too long have I waded through meadows sprouting the severed limbs of slain men, farms fertilized by foul entrails, city streets strewn with skulls. This pain, this brutality, it-” He took a deep, shuddering breath, “It hurts my soul. You may still find pleasure in it, still gaze down at the dead with glee, but I do not. I look up, up at the stars, the planets, the possibilities.”
Sitting up, Ramses hunched over his knees, the white sheets shifting silently. He murmured, “I only took pleasure because you were there beside me. Nights like this I cannot sleep through without your comforting presence in my arms. The screams of suffering I blot out through your moans of passion, your tender touch. If you are not there, I cannot-” He broke off, burying his face in his hands.
Heart wrenching, Loki brought a corded arm around Ramses' strong shoulders, sitting up next to him. “Oh, Ramses, I am sorry!” he cried. Sobbing, Ramses surrendered to Loki's warm embrace, pressing his rough face into Loki's bristly neck. Rocking gently, Loki made soothing sounds, cradling his lover, shaking from his own mourning. They remained there for many minutes, the two men drowning in their sorrow together.
His sobbing slowing, Loki whispered, “My friend, my soulmate, please understand that I do not want to hurt you. I wish to heal my own pains.” He pressed Ramses closer to himself. “Please, Ram-ram!” Ramses eased his crying at the sound of his pet name. Pulling his red, puffy face from Loki's shoulder, he looked in his lover's face and gave a small smile.
“Go, then, with my name upon your lips, and think of me whilst you soar amongst the stars,” he said in a quiet, accepting voice. Louder, eyes wide, he challenged, “Bring honour to our clan, and show our enemies that it is not just the Earth we dominate!”
Drying his eyes on the sheets, Loki nodded eagerly. He grinned and leaned back, his arms behind his head. “Speaking of domination...” he began. Ramses chuckled, pulled the curtains shut, and lay back down. Loki pulled the bedcovers over their heads, returning the two to darkness once again. Darkness, but not sleep.
Sleep would come later. Maybe.
--
--
"Gosh, we need to be more careful," Loki said sheepishly. He stepped around the overturned table and slid back under the bedcovers.
Ramses nodded forlornly. His laptop lay on the richly-carpeted floor, the black screen cracked and keyboard shattered. "Perhaps straddling me over that table was a bad idea."
Loki grinned, drawing the covers up to his chin. "Come back to bed, Ram-ram. We can fix it in the morning."
Ramses stood over the ruined pieces. His bare body was covered in goosebumps from the cold breeze drifting through the open window. He sighed, carved muscles rippling. Loki shifted under the sheets, his eyes locked on the onyx scorpion tattoo on one bulky arm. "Please come to bed," came Loki's husky whisper.
Sleek brown hair tugging at a particularly sharp breath of wind, Ramses turned to the bed and dutifully climbed in. Tonight will be a gentle night, Loki thought to himself.
Just as he dived under the silk sheets, a knock sounded at the door.
"My lords, a diplomat here to see you. From the Empire," came a voice.
Drawing his head back up, Loki quietly cursed. "Ram-ram?"
Ramses nodded quietly.
"Fine, send him in, Mike."
Golden-yellow surcoat gleaming in the candlelight, the diplomat stepped in. Upon his breast was a double-headed black bird. The visor had been removed from his helmet, revealing a scarred, sunburnt face. He stopped just inside the door, ignoring the rest of the stone-walled room as he gawked at the leader and ex-leader of the Fallen Brigade. Behind him, Mike flashed a smile and shut the heavy oak door.
"Lothar, my friend," Ramses said warmly, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Owe me enough pleasure as it is," Loki muttered under his breath.
Closing his gaping mouth politely, Lothar cleared his throat. "Uh, er, I am not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Ye-" Loki began.
"No. We always have time for the Holy Empire," Ramses stated firmly. He sat up, bedcovers falling to expose his chiselled chest.
Lothar turned his head away sharply, his eyes briefly clenching shut. "Ahem. Yes. Well, it has come to our attention that you have come into a good deal of eels, and we are always..."
At the mention of the word "eels," Loki smirked misceviously, arms shifting under the silks, and Ramses jumped slightly. "Not now," he whispered in his lover's ear.
"... would be happy to offer you gold or women for them," Lothar finished, eyes now firmly aimed at the stone ceiling. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.
"We have no need of women," Loki remarked, sinking deeper into the bedding. Lothar's face turned red.
Resting a strong hand on Loki's golden hair, Ramses kept his gaze on the diplomat. "Unfortunately, I am unable to send you trade goods at the moment. I must consult my men on how best to repair my laptop." He nodded towards the remains of the device.
Eyeing the tipped table apprehensively, Lothar dipped his helmeted head. "Might I suggest an upgrade to a desktop?" he asked tentatively.
Ramses narrowed his eyes. "Until next time, Lothar. Good-night."
The yellow-emblazoned knight tipped his head again, backing from the room. He shot one last wide-eyed glance over his shoulder as he turned and opened the door.
The stone room echoed as the thick wooden portal boomed shut.
"My dear Ramses, but you are a serious one tonight," Loki chuckled. "Worried you lost everything?"
Ramses rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, fatigued. "I can take it out, but I am not sure if my hard drive can be inserted into another computer."
"I am sure it can, Ram-ram. In any case, there is another hard thing to be inserted, and it is not a drive." He giggled, once again disappearing under the bedding.
--
Mike straightened as Lothar stepped from the room and shut the door, a look of utmost shock etched upon his face. When the knight did not move for several seconds, Mike coughed. "Surprised?" he queried quietly.
Lothar jumped, startled. He shook his head roughly, as if to rid it of thoughts, and turned to Mike. "How long-"
"Quite a while, now. They only told us a few months ago."
"Ah."
Mike winked suggestively. Lothar blinked and abruptly turned to the tower steps. His heavy boots clinked and clanked all the way down.
Laughing to himself, Mike leaned back against the cold wall, letting his spear lean against a torch bracket.
Through the thick door came a muffled moan, rippled with the throes of passion.
--
The lather felt warm on Ramses' soft mahogany skin. Loki rubbed deeper into his firm chest, cupping each powerful pectoral, admiring his lover's strength.
Ramses lay back deeper into the sudsy water, the copper tub sloshing gently. His eyes were closed, chocolate-brown hair trailing over the lip of the bath. Despite his appearance, the noble warrior was anything but relaxed.
“Ram-ram, lover, let me ease your aching needs,” Loki spoke in a sultry voice, sitting up in the bath to lean over Ramses. His hands traced into the water, over Ramses' ribs, his abdomen, his thighs.
“I cannot believe that he would make such a bold move,” Ramses growled. “That he would dare build a website with such little input from me.”
Loki made a soothing sound, massaging Ramses' strong shoulders, soapy hands slippery. His blonde hair, now a wet mop of golden silk, hung over his lover's face. Leaning in, Loki kissed him passionately. Ramses did not return the favour, turning away. Tender lips brushing stubble, Loki whispered, “Please, Ram-ram.”
Ramses rumbled, “No,” pushing Loki's muscular chest away.
Loki sat back with a splash, water sloshing out of the tub onto the polished wooden floor of the bathing room. He made a pouty face at Ramses as the warrior stood and stepped out of the bath.
Dripping, his bare back to the tub, Ramses sighed and hung his head on his chest. Tears welled in his steely eyes.
“Loki, I am leaving.”
Sulking in the water, arms crossed, Loki grunted noncommittally. “Fine. I'll just bathe by myself.”
Ramses turned and sat on the edge of the tub. Trailing a finger idly in the water, he continued quietly, “No. I am leaving the country. My calling is elsewhere.”
Loki looked up at his lover, eyes absorbing the tanned, tough skin, the scars, the corded muscles. And he looked beyond, inside, to the brave commander, dangerous warrior, and soft-hearted soulmate.
“Where will you go?”
Ramses glanced at Loki, went back to stirring the warm water.
“I go to teach children. I leave before sunrise, tomorrow.”
Loki's eyes began to water. “Oh, Ramses, my love-” He broke off, letting out a choked sob.
“Just as you left me, so now must I leave you,” Ramses spoke in a subdued voice. “Take heart, I will be back, and I will always love you, Loki, dearest.” He turned and looked Loki in his eyes. “Always.”
Loki nodded, crying in full now, the tears mixing in with the soapy bathwater.
Ramses wiped his own tears away, turned so his feet were in the tub. He reached into the water in front of Loki with one strong hand. “Let me give you something to remember me by.”
Loki laughed, sniffling, and lay back. Despite the tears, he intended to enjoy this.
~~
Hil quietly shut the window from the outside, the steam once again trapped in the bathing room. Climbing down the wooden beams of the large structure, he pondered the revelation he had just spied.
Tomas needs to know, Hil thought to himself.
He stole swiftly across the deserted village of Kwynn, moonlight never finding his form amongst the shadows.
~~
A knock at the door.
“Enter,” Tomas called from his enormous round bed. He lay beneath red sheets of the finest silks, hands behind his head of short black hair.
The door opened. Hil, shut the door, and bowed deeply. “My lord,” he murmured.
“Come here, Hil,” Tomas commanded.
Hil approached the bed.
“Disrobe.”
Slipping out of his tattered black cloak, Hil pulled off his tunic. His flat chest was devoid of any muscle. Soft, a boy's chest on a grown man.
He reached for the laces of his breeches, hesitated.
“Now, Hil.” Tomas' eyes narrowed dangerously.
Hil undid his breeches, stepped out of them as they slid to his feet. He stood red-faced before Tomas, weak, submissive. The perfect pet, Tomas thought to himself.
“Tell me what you have heard.”
Hil gulped, his hands twitching at his sides, resisting the urge to cover himself. “Ramses is leaving tomorrow morning, for some time. To teach children.”
“Teach them what?”
“I-I do not know, my lord,” he stammered nervously.
Tomas sat up, jumped out of the bedding, and strode quickly to face Hil, also nude. He slapped Hil across the face. Hard. Hil fell to his knees in front of Tomas, blood leaking from a split lip.
“You dare think to rise within the Brigade by half-accomplishing the tasks I set you?” Tomas thundered, raising his hand again. He made as if to slap again, then reached down, cupping Hil's overlarge face gently.
“I ask for but two things from you. Pleasure, and information.”
He turned away and began pacing the square room, past the panelled oaken walls emblazoned with black scorpions.
“You have failed me in one task tonight, but not wholly. Pray you do not fail me at the other.”
Hil stayed on his knees at the foot of the bed, head bowed submissively.
Still pacing, Tomas considered his options. There was only one route, he decided.
“Tomorrow morning, you shall go to Loki. Seduce him. When you are finished, convince him to support me. I know he will not step up as leader again. This is my time.” Tomas stopped, facing the largest scorpion of all, a massive beast painted on the eastern wall. He raised one hulking arm, clenched his fist, muscles bulging. “I built the website, and I can damn well run the Brigade. Loki will listen; lovers always listen, drunk on love and drowning in pillows.”
He turned and slipped back under the sheets.
“Bed. Now.”
Hil stood hastily and clambered in.
“Remember what I said. Do not disappoint me, and you shall go far within the Brigade.”
Hil nodded, slipping his head under the covers.
Tomas turned and pinched the flame of the candle next to his bed, unflinching. The room fell to darkness, but for the moonlit scorpions on the walls.
~~
The assembled clan raised their weapons, roaring their approval. Spears beat on shields, bows were waved above helmeted heads, and men clapped their hands. The Fallen Brigade celebrated its new leader.
Seated at the side of the room, Loki gently toyed with Hil's hair, whispering in his new lover's ear.
At the front of the hall, Tomas grinned, both arms raised, the handaxe in one thrust high into the air.
~~
A new leader has risen in the Brigade. Strong, cunning, charismatic, but above all, possessing the ability to manipulate men.
Raising his head from between a pair of powerful legs, Tomas gazed at the wild mess of writhing, panting, pulsating, naked bodies on the straw-strewn floor. A thought occurred to him.
Perhaps the bar was a bad idea.
Glancing at the barkeep alternately crying and angrily glaring and clenching his hairy hands, Tomas decided he would likely agree.
The man sprawled in front of Tomas spread his knees wider. Tomas smiled and resumed his task.
~~
The tables were packed in the dingy bar. Fallen Brigade soldiers, dressed in dirtied furs and worn cloaks, clanged spotted mugs together with fully-armoured, glimmering Templars. Many spirits spilled, but Tomas could sense that throughout the room, spirits were also on the rise.
In the centre of the room, Tomas sat with Loki and the Templar leader, politely discussing minor matters of the realm. As the conversation ran dry, an increasingly drunk Loki began winking more and more brazenly at the knight.
Tomas decided to broach the subject again.
“We brought you here to work out a deal. Our men have a common enemy. Compromises must be made, for the good of all.”
“Where is Ramses?” The Templar asked, looking around the crowded bar.
“Elsewhere. I am leader now.” Tomas leaned forward across the worn wooden table. “The Holy Roman Empire has agreed to join our cause. If you and your knights were to throw in with us, we would have a very good chance of remaining independent of the invasion, at least for a time.”
The Templar leader smirked. “Our holy order, siding with you? Dishonoured knights, pillagers, peasants trained to shoot arrows?” His powerful voice rose to a booming volume.
“We can promise you a good share of the loot,” Tomas narrowed his eyes. “A generous share.”
The Templar scoffed.
“You can have the women,” Loki put in, his words slightly slurred.
Looking Loki up and down with something close to outright hatred, the Templar tersely replied, “We are knights of God. We take no women as our own. In any case, you are scum, Fallen. What good would a pack of renegade looters be to an order of trained warriors?”
Tomas stood, kicking his rickety chair back. The barroom quieted, all eyes now on the table of three.
“Scum, you say? Scum?” he roared. “We fight for our lives, not for pitiful honour or glory. You have seen our effectiveness. The clouds of arrows darkening the sky, the pack of scorpions emblazoned across our shield charges, the serrated cleavers slicing skin, sinew, and bone, axes hewing wooden shields and steel armour.” He turned and spat on the straw-strewn floor. “An alliance would be of far more benefit to you than us. The Brigade is powerful, whereas you are a shadow of a once-respected order.”
The Templar stood, his own seat clattering over, and raised one gauntleted fist. “Our lines are strong. We do not break and flee at the first sign of danger. We do not wear rags and bits of armour looted from unburied corpses. We are Templars, holy warriors protecting peace, not cowardly archers hiding in the forests!”
Tomas' fingers twitched towards the notched handaxe at his belt.
Loki's strong arm pulled at Tomas. He leaned, put his ear to Loki's lips.
“Easy, Tomas,” Loki quietly cooed. “There is another way. A... Fallen way.”
“Please do not shoot him, Loki,” Tomas whispered back.
Loki winked, and slid his chair closer to the Templar. Very close.
“Sit, have more ale. No need to talk to surly Tomas here.” He waved Tomas away without even a glance at the leader of the Brigade.
Tomas sighed. Spotting an acquaintance seated along the low wooden bar, he decided a drink and chat would sooth his anger.
Hil jumped nervously when Tomas sat down heavily on the adjacent stool. “Enjoying your new castle, Lord Hil?” The young man nodded, keeping his eyes low to his drink. Tomas patted his arm, admiring the smooth softness of Hil's skin.
He nodded his head towards Loki's table, where the ex-leader was massaging the Templar's shoulders.
“He seduces like no man I have ever met.” Taking a long pull from his mug, Tomas laughed to himself. “What I am trying to decide is whether you bedded him or he bedded you!”
Hil chuckled without a trace of humour. “Yes, my lord.”
“Ah, here he goes!” Tomas spun around in his stool, ale in hand, ready for the show. Hil watched with mild curiosity over his shoulder.
Loki gently stroked the Templar's bare, smooth face, sliding gracefully from his seat to the man's lap, hands exploring eagerly.
Around the room, other inebriated Fallens took up the queue, seeking to eliminate tensions with the drunken knights. The barkeeper moaned and slumped over the bar, burying his face in his hands. Mugs shattered on the floor, tables tumbled, chairs split, food spilled. All simply obstacles in the way of steaming, stewing lust.
Sighs of pleasure and gentle whispers rose as figures fell to the floor, limbs already entwined. Tomas downed the rest of his warm ale in a single gulp. Smacking his lips, he turned to face Hil, swaying unsteadily. “Fancy a tumble, Lord of Curin Castle? Gods know, you must be lonely in that tall, hard tower of thick, smooth stone.”
Hil drained his mug as well. Emboldened by the alcohol, he tackled Tomas to the ground, fingers roving towards his leader's thighs.
~~
Cradling his aching skull, the head of the Brigade stood and took stock of the barroom.
It was not a pretty sight. Tomas decided that a bath would be required for everyone involved.
But first, he had business to finish.
The Templar leader lay between two nude, sleeping Fallen soldiers, stroking the gilded hair of a slumbering Loki sprawled across his bare chest. As Tomas knelt above his head, the Templar grinned up at him.
“Tomas, my friend, we have a deal.”
Lost in happy dreams, Loki smiled as well.
All of this was written based upon events happening in cRPG and within our clan (except part 1, that was just to get the ball rolling). Part 2 was when our clan faced the threat of everyone playing EVE Online. Part 3, Ramses had broken his laptop, and we were getting more buddy-buddy with HRE. Part 4: Ramses is away, Tomas steps up! Part 5 was near the end of the previous Strat round, when we became allies with the Templars.
Thanks for reading!
