The Prompt: Stannis is naked and tied to the mast of a ship. Can be the good ol’ Fury, but doesn’t have to be.
The idea of this: Any one can reblog or answer with any take on this prompt, be it fic or art, short as a sentence, long as a novel, quick as a rough sketch or…
Yup, replying to ma own prompt like a saddo. Let’s face it though, ah was always gonna do a few fills for this… : P
This is a kinda rubbishy crack!AU take on the prompt.
Stannis Baratheon, criminal lawyer with the prosecution service, upstanding citizen and all around serious man, had known it was a bad idea to let his feckless brother Robert organise his stag do. In fact, Stannis hadn’t even wanted to have a stag do. When both his best friend and his future wife insisted that he have one, he determined that he and Davos would have a few quiet drinks (non alcoholic ones for Stannis of course) in a respectable drinking establishment, Davos’s bizarre friend Salladhor whould likely show up and tell colourful stories that would make Davos laugh loudly through his nose, and perhaps Stannis’s oldest friend Reverend Cressen might put in an appearance.
He’d actually planned it for a date when he knew that Robert would be out of the country. He had no such worries about Renly - his younger brother hated him and wouldn’t have come if he’d asked. But he’d known that Robert would come just for the pleasure of torturing him.
And despite all that forward planning, despite all his best hopes and most paranoid tactics, he’d still ended up naked, tied to the mast of sail boat that he didn’t own that just happened to be bobbing in the Thames in a convenient location for Robert to carry out his plan.
Stannis might have admired his brother’s ingenuity if it wasn’t so often used against him. He might even have laughed wryly at his own expense, if he’d only let Davos persuade him into having a beer for once.
As it was, he’d given up struggling against the ropes that bound him to the mast. He was only succeeding in cutting into his own skin.
And… Um… The other thing.
The way that Robert had positioned the rope, wound between his legs but not actually touching his manhood… And another rope was wrapped around his chest, abrasing his nipples…
In short, every time Stannis moved he was rubbed and chafed and stroked in the most irritating of ways…
His bared cock was getting harder by the second.
Stannis didn’t usually swear, even in his own head, but this situation called for it.
FUCK HIS LIFE.
He could only hope that the yacht would miraculously sink and drown him.
But knowing his bloody luck he’d be found by a news crew…
"Stannis! Stannis! Stannis! Oh, where are you?!"
Davos’s sweet, lilting accent had never sounded so good to Stannis’s ears.
"Davos!!! Here! On this bloody yacht!" He called back, giddy with relief.
Davos would sort it out. He could always sort everything out.
Except, as his best friend’s footsteps approached, Stannis was choked with sudden shame and anxiety about his straining erection…
He didn’t want Davos to think that he was sick in the head, warped in some way, that he would get off on something like this…
Stannis tried everything to make his erection go away. But if anything, the thought of Davos getting closer and closer only seemed to swell him further.
He thunked his head back against the fibre glass mast he was bound to, then did it twice more for good measure.
"Sir! Sir?!" Davos was calling (Stannis hadn’t been Davos’s boss for years, but Davos still called him Sir quite often in times of stress).
"Up here, Davos." Stannis sighed, no urgency to his voice now. So his best friend was forever more going to think of him as an idiot pervert who let his stupid oaf of a brother strip him naked and tie him to a boat.
His cock was bobbing just along the underside of his navel, leaving a sticky trail on the hair there. And there was literally nothing he could do about it…
Fuck his life.
I was born to be ridiculed anyway, he thought huffily as Davos clambered over the side of the boat, what’s one more person who thinks I’m a complete loser…
But Davos wasn’t just one more person. That was part of the problem.
"Stannis!" Davos cried happily as he saw that he’d found him, but then he trailed off.
Stannis usually prided himself on his bravery, but he couldn’t stand to see Davos looking at him in disgust, so he closed his eyes tightly.
“Stannis…” Davos breathed, very gently. “I’ll kill that stupid fat bastard… Which way did he go? I’ll find him, so I will… This has gone on for long enough. I’ll teach that fucking bully a lesson…”
“Davos… Do you think you could cut me loose and find me something to put on first?”
“What? Oh, yes! Oh god, yes! Sorry, got sidetracked…”
Davos fumbled in his pocket and came out with a tiny penknife, flipping it open to reveal an even tinier saw.
Stannis almost felt like he was drunk because part of him wanted to laugh at the utter absurdity of it all.
“Where shall I start… Cutting the rope, do you think?”
“Uh, round the back… My hands…”
Davos was as obedient as ever, and in another few moments, Stannis felt his friends mismatched hands on his bound wrists, fumbling to get the saw under the rope and begin cutting.
And then every time Davos moved the saw his hand brushed against the side of Stannis’s buttock…
It was torture.
Stannis bit down on his bottom lip to keep from making any noises, but Davos just kept on stroking his arse slightly every time he cut into the rope and it was… It was…
Of course it couldn’t possibly be intentional. Davos was completely innocent in these sorts of matters as far as Stannis could see.
Even so, it only took a few minutes of sawing for a low hiss to slip through Stannis’s clenched teeth.
Davos’s movements with the little saw stopped completely, Stannis’s hand remaining bound.
Go on then Davos. Serve me right if you left me here, Stannis thought.
But instead of leaving him, Davos dropped the penknife, rounded the mast again, and rested his trembling hands on Stannis’s shoulders…
“Sir…” He said – except it sounded more like a sort of pleading little whine. The sort of noise that Davos should never ever make.
And then he kissed him.
Davos kissed him.
It was brash and hasty, the kiss landed on Stannis’s lower lip, which was moist and sensitive from his chewing on it.
Stannis found himself kissing back so hard and so artlessly that his shoulders began to pull away from the mast and the rope bit into his nipples painfully.
He cried out into Davos’s mouth.
And Davos seemed to lose it completely, because suddenly he was whimpering and reaching down to grasp Stannis’s aching cock.
“Davos!!” Stannis cried out in an obscene way that did not sound at all like the protest he had intended.
“Sir!!” Davos replied, and his mouth nibbled along the stubborn stubble that had coated Stannis’s jaw since he was 16.
“Davos, you should…” but try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘stop’.
And so Davos continued, stroking him up and down, up and down, with his healthy hand, which was making him tremble at the intense pleasure of it…
But Davos’s other hand, the mangled one, was fondling Stannis’s backside, blunt stumps of fingers stroking their way down the parting of his buttocks and rubbing over… over…
Oh holy fucking Christ…
He came all over himself and the ropes and Davos’s good hand. He came shouting Davos’s name like a lovesick teenager. He shook and he panted for breath.
Robert could never have shamed him any more thoroughly than he’d just shamed himself.
And poor, loyal, innocent Davos…
Poor, loyal, innocent Davos who sank to his knees and licked him clean of his embarrassing emission, as eagerly as if he actually enjoyed the taste.
Poor, loyal, innocent Davos who popped his fly buttons and reached into his jeans and touched himself there on his knees at Stannis’s feet, lapping at Stannis’s spent cock and his aching balls with his tongue as he did.
Poor, loyal, innocent Davos who reached his own climax thrusting into his own palm and crying Stannis’s name as tenderly as if they were lovers…
Sagging against the mast and his ropes, in pain, mortified, but satiated, Stannis began to re-evaluate a few things.
Stannis never did end up marrying Cat Tully. It had only ever been a proposed marriage of convenience, anyway. Cat wanted to climb the greasy pole in Westminster and had been told by her spin-doctor Petyr that she needed a high-flying respectable husband.
When Stannis calmly explained to her that he had recently discovered he was homosexual and could therefore not in good conscience go through with their marriage, she seemed almost relieved. Stannis had the feeling that there might have been more going on between her and her PR man than met the eye.
Robert literally and figuratively pissed himself laughing about the boat incident. For weeks afterwards he rang Stannis up just to laugh down the phone at him. He was busy telling the story of his brothers shame to everyone of their shared acquaintance, as well as filling them all in on how Stannis couldn’t even manage to get married without ballsing everything up.
It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t annoyed by Robert’s behaviour, and by people who’d heard the rumours tittering at him behind their hands in court.
But all the same, it was hard to care about it all too much, as he strode briskly back to his riverside apartment, briefcase in hand. Back to the bed where Davos and several sizeable lengths of rope were awaiting him.