Inferncls Sebastian ; Harlon Greyjoy - Tumblr Posts

CLOSED STARTER ! HARLON GREYJOY ( @saltbcrne )

a semblance of relief settles between his brows . with the joust and the crowning of queens and champions have concluded , so will his sister's nagging about participating . he could not find it in himself to clamor at steeled duels and cheers , like the rest of the other lords and knights , nor did he judged any of them for it . his appetite simply had another face , one that not scratched armors and bloodied blades could keep at bay . on the contrary , nothing still or brimming with life could . he approaches the lord of pyke , with suspicious ease and familiarity , ❝ i heard curious whispers pertaining to the recent tragedy that has struck our good country , ❞ it is in tensed halls of fine silken tongues and velveteen trappings that this appetite thrives — where terror sneaks itself between breaths , greater effort slithers on shaking fingers to uphold faultlessness , and condolences , good - will spill from drying lips . ❝ should anyone ask what i have been doing the night of , or say , inquire about my whereabouts ... ❞ the ocean stirs in his eyes , a collection of low rumblings and blinding mist takes on a cloak of opulence , fine features , and a noble name . the real tourney has just began . ❝ shall i say we were discussing all the trade routes we have explored ? ❞ his hushed words were far from enticing , luring , and entrapping , yet the honey that dripped from each one tasted sweet and decorated with just the right amount of provocation . ❝ or would you rather i disclose that i have been exploring you ? ❞

it was the idea of drowning that made him stay , the urge to move surreptitiously in the dark , scuffed bricks against the palm of his hand as he looks from behind pillars . the placid water pulls him further to the bottom , to sink on his own volition , rid of air , hope , and thought . touching him is a plunge into nothingness , to a space void of reason and control , eyes closed and an utter surrender to what lord greyjoy deems he deserves . in the confides of that chamber , sebastian gives in the only way he knows how . the first breath he draws is not an imploration for air , for life but for more ... for harlon ... for harlon to take more , everything . ❝ and aren't you a good bo — ❞ sebastian was quick to remember where they were , to shove his senses back to its rightful place before he is swallowed by his own boldness . ❝ i envy your memory , lord greyjoy . even after innumerable ... voyages , some are still as exhilarating as the first time . ❞ cerulean orbs remained on the dark - haired man before him . searching for scars or marks on the softness of his fair skin , to anchor himself to here and now , and failing . harlon is free of flaw , even beneath this painstaking mask , and sebastian slides into the depths of the ocean , losing his grasp of the warmth of now to waves of imagery , entwined fingers and staggered breaths . the chatters are muted and the burst of color fades to solace ... until he makes out of the worry now carving itself upon harlon's face , the way his body shifts , and how vigilance began to claw its way beneath them . but it forgets that sebastian is not one to cower at the face of danger , he is , after all , a lion . ❝ the princess regent is dead and there are damning whispers , they must want subdue them to reassure the court . what are you even worried about ? ❞ he , too , leans close , a composed smile glimmering with the faintest of mischief danced upon his lips . ❝ we were together all night , weren't we ? don't tell me you're afraid of having to share details , my lord . you were not so reserved while we're ... reacquainting ourselves . ❞

it didn’t make sense,  he thought.  harlon knew hunger.  he’d lived his whole life like a dog in pursuit of a bone,  having contented himself with what scraps could be passed under the table and learning to trade tricks for treats.  he knew that;  had made peace with it,  even.  he did not know this:  the gaping bottomless pit of a maw nestled in his core that begged to be filled whenever the blond was concerned;  the sickness that sebastian had plagued him with. 

he had taken the young lord in his mouth and swallowed him down, feasting upon him with unabashed desire as he had many a time before.  if it were just hunger,  then harlon would have already had more than his fill.  so, what was it then,  if neither the sight nor taste of him could provide any true nourishment,  but a madness of the very worst kind?

even now,  his words elicited a most asinine physiological response:  a pink tinge to the tips of his ears,  and a smile made crooked from trying  ( and failing )  to fight it.  harlon ducked his head  —  not that it made much of a difference,  being the taller of the two.  the princess regent was dead,  everyone in attendance was to be treated like a suspect,  and sebastian had the gall to be cheeky despite it all.  he wanted to roll his eyes and huff,  feign being the more sensible of the two,  but all he could do was bask in the fondness that bloomed in his chest. damn him.

"exploration suggests unfamiliarity, and you were not so clumsy." a coy deflection; the smothering of a spark before it could catch fire and bring everything down. "i would sooner call it a reacquaintance, among other things."

it was stupid — beyond silly, even — but... having to share their whereabouts before the soon-to-be king himself made him nervous. it wasn't a far-fetched fib by any means, and it was bound to ring true to whichever councillor who would receive them, but harlon feared he may be more transparent to prince vaeles than he would have liked, and he quite wanted to keep sebastian to himself, especially now.

harlon swallowed. then, curious, and seeking refuge, he chanced a quick cursory glance at their surroundings before leaning closer into sebastian's space and gently cupping his elbow. his eyes flitted about his face, worry pinching at his brows. "do you really think they will question us?"

my sweet ... the warmth rushes to his ears , spreads quickly to his chest and scratches at his neck , tingling under his fingertips . he cannot thank whichever god glanced his way , that he did not pass up on the many lords that poured him a cup or two prior this duel with the lord of pyke . it did not help that harlon had his hand on him , skin snugged oh - so - painfully hot against his . and when he moves ... hot breath stuck in his throat , that if not masked with contrived astonishment , would have made its way out an obscene sound . he mouths hangs agape , a gasp shoving supposed reaction with words . ❝ my , my ... lord harlon greyjoy , you must not speak of such a thing , not when we are in mourning . that is a serious allegation , ❞ eyes fixed on heavy browns , unable to tear his gaze away . smile not out of their usual petty banter , but a concealed gentleness , endearment , reserved only for the other . ❝ on the contrary , this morning is nothing but satisfactory , my lord . what you served to me , tasted ... sweeter than anything i've had . ❞

❝ perhaps i need to be fed more so i may have another use for my mouth . ❞ joy prickles beneath his jaw , swimming blissfully across his body that he feels like a different person entirely . pride swelling at the words he strung together , bringing both of them dangerously close the edge . he can stay here , weaving their own private world until the rest of westeros disappears behind them . then he feels the reality tap on his shoulder , judgement anticipating them around the corner , jarring silhouette at the corner of his eyes that his voice dies further down to a whisper that needed greater focus and intention to make out of . ❝ will this inquiry put a stop to our ... time together , harlon ? ❞ his hand reaches out to mimic harlon's , smile faltering but only momentarily . his gaze falling to where their bodies were linked , then back to meet harlon's . there is consciousness , acceptance even — of who he is , of what he is , of what he is capable of . he had sat with his thoughts and all that he has done , made peace with every single one . he had abandoned what it means be good , and wore wickedness with pride . in all its golden - crowned , deep blue - orbed , and fair - skinned glory . the form that stared back in the mirror , a smirk hanging from its lips . and yet in the worlds they make , dim - lit chambers and unmade beds , he is disarmed , stripped , and w a s h e d o f f the impious visage that chained him in the shadows , green - eyed , and sharp - clawed . in those sheets , he laid deliriously unguarded — not a hair in place , not a surface of skin untouched , not one innocent thought . no damn armor can protect a man when he willingly bares his neck for the taking . by now , he wouldn't be surprised if harlon greyjoy knew the power he had over him , even if the young lion adamantly denies . and why sebastian reyne indulges the stranger dressed in pleasure the way he does , he may never know ... or perhaps , never thought it relevant . what mattered is he gets harlon all to himself , without the looming presence of the ton , even if only for the night .

it was as much a gift as it was a curse to be so easily riled up.  the warmth that colored harlon's ears had spread to his cheeks,  painting him in a most treacherous shade of pink to match that of his lips. words had failed him in that moment,  as they so often did in sebastian’s presence,  and what could not be spoken begged to be expressed otherwise.  it was something innate,  beyond choice:  that urge to touch him,  to communicate in a language only they knew;  a language of hands and mouths and skin against skin,  of truth and pretense and the space in between.

harlon wanted to quiet him,  which of course meant that he wanted to kiss him quite ardently,  here and now and at once,  which…  he supposed also meant that he had found himself in the position of wanting to embrace the very claws that instinct had always compelled him to run from  —  a fate that did not seem so terrible to him then,  especially when compared to the grim reality surrounding them.  no longer were they hidden away in his bedchamber,  free and unencumbered in a dream of their own making.  being in the world required a show of strength,  and if sebastian was willing to lend him his own,  then he would take it.  

his gaze dipped low to the smile on his face and lingered,  watching him speak,  enthralling him in real time.  the lion made it look so easy.  maybe for him,  it was.  meanwhile,  what worried harlon could fill tome after tome. there were some things he could only say in the dead of night, however, when their armor lay scattered on the ground alongside their pride, and that was one of them. conceding to this, harlon nodded his head and willed the worry to ebb from his features as best as he could. it was fine. more importantly, they would be fine. there was no alternative.

"perhaps there is... some truth in what you say, my sweet. i'll grant you that." and only that, as he so hoped he would not lord it over him forever. "we've nothing to worry about, except..." here, harlon had to meet his eye and smile, roguish and entirely indulgent. elsewhere, his thumb caressed the inside of sebastian's elbow — a poor substitute for all that he'd really rather do. "is it murder that has made you so mouthy? or did we not make well enough use of it this morning, and that is why you've seen fit to tease me so?"

to the untrained eye , much of the world is taken as it is — in plain sight . a blissful life , kissed and touched only by colors and shapes , words not a version of varying truths . it is the kind of life he never got to know , will never know . he is the son of his father , a son of house reyne . his life is meant for so much more than blissful , it is molded to be great . he is meant to be great . but this inherited greatness comes at a great personal cost . took from him many things , slumber and sincerity only to name a few , and put other things entirely at the forefront . equipped with more than his own hands can carry . and so , sebastian sees it clear as day . the storm he brought bellowed within harlon , and its icy , bony fingers grips onto his beloved with terror . a stranger long abandoned , caught up and prepared to set fire to this safe space they created .

he searches for solace in harlon's eyes , brown orbs ever the most breathtaking he's laid his eyes on . desperation clung to him , as breath does to a dying man . he gazes upon harlon and finds more than clarity or familiarity , he sees in him certainty . the only truth he's ever known . sebastian used to tell himself that no one ever wore the same face in two different places , in court and in the confides of their chambers even more so . and yet every time he finds himself looking at harlon , he sees the exact same one , and he is entirely ... enamoured . he still swims in a sea of anguish , unable to soothe what he can only make out as impending loss , gritting its teeth . and only when he surrenders to the warmth of harlon's skin against his does the mind - numbing chaos dissipate . ❝ i don't ... want it to stop , harlon . ❞ his name is more than an utterance , for it spilled from his lips like a prayer . a sacred covenant they have shared only amongst themselves . for a moment , the shroud of pride and glory reveals beneath it a look that , as far as the court is concerned does not exist , only revealed itself to the lord of pyke . sheer relief , and a gentle smile , fleeting and elusive , soon transforms into a smirk . ❝ there are still many things to discuss about trade routes after all . ❞ brief as it may be , his body does not betray him , hand holding that of harlon's tightly , refusing ... unable to let go . as if his is no longer just one entity , but joint with the other .

sebastian’s question washed over him like a pail of cold water,  chasing away the veneer of naughtiness that enshrouded them from all else.  for one short moment,  it was all harlon could do to stare at him,  his eyes wide and failing to understand.  were their affections so fickle in nature that something like this could unravel them all? did sebastian really think him to be that craven?  his lips parted as if to speak,  to breathe life into his affront,  but he quickly pressed them together again,  thinking better of his impulses.

no,  that wouldn't have been fair.  or sane.  harlon knew all too well what sebastian meant,  even if he was trying his damnedest to trick himself otherwise.  still,  he had fought too hard for this  —  their partnership,  and all which came after  —  to let it slip through his fingers at the first sign of trouble.  he was a kraken;  it was not in his nature to let things go,  least of all not that which was most precious to him,  his greatest golden treasure being one.

and so,  harlon dropped his gaze to where sebastian held him,  such a small act having anchored him in place amidst the turmoil.  his hand twitched,  as if hesitating,  before coming to rest atop of sebastian’s.  it was an overly familiar gesture,  but not entirely out of place here;  not for him,  who fussed over everyone who was dear to him,  and sometimes even those who were not.  should a wandering eye lead to any questions, his ... eccentricities were an easy justification.

harlon shook his head and sank back into the sea that was sebastian’s gaze.  “why,  only if we are called upon at a most inopportune time.  otherwise,  i do not see why it should.”  a half-truth,  a half-lie;  all dependent on how one looked at it  —  and he,  as per usual,  refused to. he owed his life to the iron islands and to his family, to those he would feast together with in the watery halls,  but there were some parts of it —  of himself —  that he could not owe,  not ever.  they were too sacred,  too incorrigible to be handed over in the name of duty.  no, he would not do it;  not even if the king himself decreed it. 

knowing this,  and that there was only one man who could cause him to change course,  harlon gave his hand a tender squeeze,  allowing him no such escape.  “you've done naught that would force me to do such an ugly thing,” he started, voice steady and soft, but when he spoke next,  it was in a tone which brooked no argument,  “nor would you, for that matter. would you not agree?”