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It's been a week since Robb had Jaime last brought to his tent. They've moved camp once, setting down in the lower valley this time. Robb's been busy, discussing strategies and plans with his council. He's exhausted. He's barely eaten. The weight of kingship is heavy tonight.
But he doesn't think of Jaime until he's passing the cage on the way to his tent. Two of his men are standing by the cage, pissing at the Kingslayer through the bars. Jaime's merely watching the puddle trickle sluggishly across the dirt closer and closer to where he's chained. His face is impassive. Even when he looks up and sees Robb standing there, the mask doesn't flicker for a moment.
“What're you doing?” Robb demands of the men.
“My lord, we were just...” They have no excuse. Robb's gaze settles them into uneasy silence. The stink of piss is in the air. Judging from the state of Jaime's clothing, they've done this before.
“Sluice him off and bring him to my tent.” Robb turns and strides away. As much as he enjoys humiliating the Kingslayer, the man doesn't deserve getting pissed upon. He's still a knight.
They strip Jaime naked once they take him out of the cage. He grits his teeth as bucket after bucket of cold water is poured upon him, ignoring the laughter and the comments from Stark's men.
When they're finished, he's allowed to dry himself with a woolen cloth, before being led naked to Stark's tent. There, they chain him to the pole furthest away from the table with maps and leave him. The iron collar chafes at his neck, and he's cold, though at least they didn't leave him wet. Jaime sinks to the ground, resting his arms on his knees as he waits.
He can't help remembering what Stark said.
'If it suited me to strip you naked and parade you through the camp dressed only in your collar and chains, then I would do it.'
Would a man who stops his guards from pissing on him truly do such a thing? Jaime doubts it, but then it would be at Robb's orders. Maybe that's the difference. If he behaved for his supposed master, would they let him go? Jaime pushes that thought away. They'd never be fools enough to release him. He doesn't owe Robb Stark anything.
When Robb finally returns to the tent, he stops in the entrance. Jaime's lounging against the pole, his chained wrists crossed as best as they could. Despite his months in captivity, the Kingslayer is yet an impressive sight. His body has not lost his lean muscle. The man is indeed a lion, albeit one well-collared.
Robb throws off his mantle and goes to pour himself some wine. He can feel the Kingslayer's eyes following him. When he's downed a cup of wine and poured another, he can turn and face the man.
“Have they done that before?” He already knows the answer, but he asks anyway.
“Why?” Jaime asks bluntly. “Are you going to come running every time someone in your camp takes a piss?”
“You're my prisoner, which means you're my responsibility.” Robb means this, even if he's never voiced it before.
Jaime cocks his head. “If anyone in this camp has mistreated me, it's you.”
Robb ignores that, inspecting the Kingslayer's naked body. There are a few scars, but not deep ones. Jaime Lannister is a warrior still. A tad gaunt perhaps after his time in captivity, his hair darker now than his usual golden locks. His slight beard makes him look older. His cock...Robb's eyes stop there, examining that part of the man. Well-sized, even resting against the dark golden hair at his groin. Robb gazes at the man's cock until the silence in the tent hits him and he raises his eyes to find Jaime looking at him curiously.
“Tell me, did you bring me here to repay me in kind?” Jaime inquires. “You could probably use some practice on your knees.”
“Does anyone ever miss your voice, Kingslayer? Your sister, perhaps?”
Jaime merely smiles. “Yes, she probably does.”
The Kingslayer is still too confident. It's time to change that. Robb drinks deep of his wine and then asks, “Have you ever been fucked?”
Jaime laughs, throwing his head back, as looks at Robb with open amusement. “Is that your next move? To fuck me? Make a stab at claiming my body?” He's scornful. Robb wants to make him lose that. He wants to walk into his tent and have the Kingslayer go to his knees automatically, a servant to his king, a slave to his master.
For now, Robb goes over to Jaime, who doesn't move. Robb pulls at the chain around Jaime's neck until Jaime finally inclines his head. Robb unchains the collar from the pole, tugging Jaime across the tent towards his bed. Jaime holds his weight back, forcing him to pull harder to get the man where he wants. At last Robb fastens the chain around the leg of his bed. There's enough space to maneuver Jaime where he wants him, but not enough that man could try anything.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
Jaime looks at him. “You really think,”
Robb hits him then, flat across the mouth. “Hold your tongue or lose it.”
Jaime raises his chained hands to wipe away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You're nothing but a boy. You should run home with your wolf tail between your legs. Surrender before you get someone important killed. Before your family pays the price.”
This time Robb's blow knocks him back against the bed. Jaime slides sidewise, trying to scramble out of reach, but Robb punches him again, hard, in the stomach. Jaime falls backward, landing on his back and Robb hauls him up by his hair.
“Spread your legs, Kingslayer, or I'll tie them to the bedposts and leave them open for all my knights to use as they see fit.”
“Go fuck yourself, wolf-boy.” Jaime growls.
Robb responds by forcing the man over on his belly. Gripping Jaime's legs, Robb pushes them apart, revealing his hole. From the man's response, Robb knows that he's the first here. The first to have the Kingslayer spread open for him. It sends a thrill of lust through Robb. Jaime kicks out at him; Robb simply retaliates by reaching between the man's legs. Capturing the Kingslayer's balls, he squeezes them painfully.
“Hold still, or I'll have you gelded here and now.”
“You're bluffing.” Jaime sneers.
Robb squeezes harder. “I'll have them sent to King's Landing in a silken purse. Your father will think you're no longer a man...and your sister, well, you won't be much use to her any more, will you?” He squeezes again before releases them to press his thumb against Jaime's hole, rubbing at the puckered skin.
Jaime's tense beneath him, not yielding or surrendering, merely still, waiting to see what Robb's going to do. Robb tests this, pushing the tip of his finger inside Jaime's warmth. His body's resistance to the intrusion is arousing. Robb pushes further, working the Kingslayer open. He adds another finger, curling them teasingly as he stretches him.
Jaime squirms. “Do you take this much care with your whores, Stark?”
“You mean my other whores?” Robb curls his fingers again. “You're my whore now too, Kingslayer. Are you so eager for my cock then?”
“I simply wouldn't want you to spend before you even start.”
Robb laughs. “No worry there.” He pulls his fingers out. There's oil on the table, but he doesn't want to move from where he is. And Jaime won't beg him for it. Not yet. Robb wants this first time to be painful, wants the man to remember it tomorrow the moment he wakes. That Robb Stark was the first to fuck him.
He takes out his cock. Spitting crudely into the palm of his hand, slicking it between his fingers. Pressing the head to to the man's hole, Robb pauses. “Now would be a good time for you to cooperate.”
“I do hope you fuck better than you converse, Stark.”
Robb answers that by thrusting halfway inside in one vicious, quick assault. Jaime is so tight. It's glorious. The close feel of his body clinging to Robb's cock, resenting it but holding firm. Jaime's body is still tensed against him. Each inch gained inside him is a small victory. Robb grips him by his hips as he starts moving steadily, fucking harder and harder. Every thrust sends pleasure coursing through Robb's bones. The sight of his cock moving in and out of the Kingslayer is invigorating. The way Jaime's body holds so still beneath his own makes Robb grip harder, digging his fingers into the man's skin...yet, he wants more. After a moment, Robb pulls out. There's blood on his cock. Robb stares at it incredulously. He's drawn blood from the Kingslayer. It seems strange. The man is only mortal after all.
“Up on your hands and knees.”
Jaime doesn't move at first and Robb threads his fingers through the man's hair to pull him. Then releases him as the Jaime pushes himself up. Robb thrusts back inside, his breath coming faster now. At this angle, it wouldn't be too long. Jaime's shoulders strain as he holds himself up, the chain between his wrists stretched taut. Robb squeezes his ass, pulls out, then pushes back inside, making the thrusts sharp and sweet. His panting sounds harsh and desperate, to his own ears. He's so very, very close now, his balls are aching and full.
And then, Jaime clenches tight around his cock, holding Robb there, trapped in the heat of the Kingslayer's body. “You may be fucking me, boy, but how long can you hold out?”
Robb growls, digging his nails in. Jaime releases him for a moment, then clenches again tightly and Robb groans in spite of himself. “You-”
Jaime does it again and Robb shudders helplessly, coming inside the Kingslayer who's laughing at him over his shoulder. Robb's fury returns with a roar. He pulls the Kingslayer's head back by the hair, sinking his teeth into the man's neck. He bites hard enough to draw blood, the salt spreading to his teeth and tongue. Jaime rears back furiously, trying to shake Robb off. Robb reaches between his legs again, but instead of finding the man's balls, he catches Jaime's cock stiff and hard between his thighs.
“So the lion likes being bitten.” Robb pulls cruelly at Jaime's cock. “Ask me.”
Jaime laughs, the sound an ugly, dangerous thing. “In you dreams, Stark.”
“Beg.” Robb skims the head with his nails, making Jaime hiss, but the man won't beg. He never will. Robb's grip tightens briefly, wanting to make the man scream. Then he moves his hand away and Jaime sinks down on his knees.
Robb moves off the bed. He takes a cloth to wipe the blood and come from his cock. For a moment he considers cleaning Jaime up as well...but then the Kingslayer pushes himself off the bed, grasping the bed post to steady himself, before he straightens up to glare at Robb.
“I hope your teeth aren't infected.”
Robb eyes his cock. “I hope you can manage to sleep tonight.”
He calls for his guards. “Take him back to the cage. Chain his hands behind him.” He watches silently as the guards lead Jaime away.
* * *
They return Jaime to his cage, sniggering at his hardness. The Kingslayer is naked and hard and helpless, but he faces them coolly until one of them spits at his feet and locks the door, leaving him alone.
Only then, does Jaime's head droop between his shoulders. His shoulders ache. He would give anything to lie flat on the ground, to be free of the chains. He leans his head back against the pole, wincing. His body reminds him of what he doesn't particularly want to dwell upon. There's blood and come on his thighs. His blood; Stark's come.
In spite of the pain, his cock's still hard. He does his best to ignore it. The morning will most likely be worse. Stark's men will trail by, taunting him with their insults. True, it's all humiliating, but what's the point? They think him helpless, a thing to be ridiculed. So let them think that. It will aid his escape.
For he will escape. And when he returns to King's Landing, when they beat the Starks, he'll have Robb Stark on his knees. Jaime grins then, in his cage. The boy's bite on the back of his neck... Now that was promising. The wolf cub had teeth after all.