Chapter Text
When Armitage had first been sold to the most famous pillow house in Lys, he was too terrified to be relieved to finally be out of Brendol’s filthy Riverlands estate, a damp and cold castle that served more as a prison than as an ancestral home. His father knew perfectly well that the King’s laws forbid slavery, but when offered that much gold from Lysene sailors, he didn’t even hesitate to finally be rid of his disgraced son.
To Brendol, Armitage had always been too soft, too thin, and too similar to his mother, a kitchen wench unfortunate enough to tolerate Brendol’s advances; he was an only child and perpetually a disappointment. On that fateful day, when Armitage was but 12 years old, his softness and beauty would take him to a completely different prison, one of silk brocade and luxurious bed canopies.
The journey across the Narrow Sea had been harrowing, and Armitage remembered how glad he was to reach solid ground. The Riverlands were the only home he’d over known and he’d begged and pleaded with his father to please not send him away. The entire time they’d been sailing, he couldn’t help but panic about whatever future lay ahead for him: he didn’t speak a single word of Valyrian, and he had no experience with arts of the flesh.
He may have been young, but he’d heard enough to know what was expected of him once they landed in Lys. The bruises on his arms, from his father’s guards grabbing him and throwing him in the Lysene trading vessel, hadn’t faded for weeks and Armitage kept thinking of how roughly he’d be handled once he met his new masters. However, he needn’t have worried much, because while the Lysene Madame of the House, a woman named Phasma, was stern, she didn’t seem particularly violent.
He’d been put in a room with 3 other boys and they were to begin their training immediately. Armitage had excelled, not just in his courtesan training, but his course studies of art, High Valyrian, music, and the local politics; by the age of 16, he had already paid back his original purchase price, so he’d finally received a room of his own. On that first day he’d been in his new room all alone, Armitage had looked up at the indulgently-painted ceiling and taken a good, hard look at his new surroundings.
The more he looked, the more he sank into the soft mattress and he realized that the down feather pillows, the heavy silk curtain, the complex Myrish tapestries and grandiose gifts from his patrons were all he would ever know. He heard stories from his patrons, so many of them, of wonders all over the world, dragons’ eggs in Asshai-Beyond-the-Shadow, exotic spices and warlocks in Qarth, but Armitage would never see any of these things himself.
He resigned himself to a perfumed but dull life on his back (or knees for the more vicious men), his beauty forever locked behind the ornate marble doors of the manse. Armitage could feel that all we’d ever lay eyes on would be Madame Phasma, his fellow courtesans, and whichever man paid his way into his room. Until the arrival of Kylo Ren.
**
The city was abuzz with news of the arrival of the new Sealord of Braavos and his entire entourage. Rumor even had it that his feared First Sword, Kylo Ren, would be attending the festivities as well. Armitage had heard the stories of his near-barbaric strength, that he’d ripped a Dothraki screamer straight off his stallion with only his bare hands. But such tales were hardly ever true, and Armitage wasn’t about to repeat them only so that the First Sword would hunt him down and kill him for the sin of slander.
All the of the city’s most prestigious pillow houses had received invitations for the festivities, to be held at the First Magister’s pleasure gardens. The Braavosi had been heard to say that they were most eager to wet their cocks with what was the world’s last remaining dragonseeds, those that bore the distinctive looks of the blood of Old Valyria.
Armitage guessed that he probably wouldn’t be needed for the Braavosi envoys, for not only was he not a native Lyseni (and did not possess the white silver hair and lilac eyes of the dragonlords) but he was also a boy. The Braavosi were not like the other men of Lys or even Myr, and were not known to be tolerant of “pillow-biters.” So he quelled his excitement and instead bid all his courtesan sisters good bye and good luck as they all headed to the excitement outside of the walls of their pillow house.
Armitage burned with envy, but tried not to let it show so his Madame wouldn’t see it and slap him, calling him ungrateful. This arrival would mean great business to their house, and certainly they would be able to afford better food and vintages with the coin his sisters were about to earn.
However, sometime after lunch, while Armitage was lounging in his porcelain tub and indulgently bathing, Madame Phasma burst into his room in a tizzy, where she headed straight to his wardrobe.
“Armitage, I’ve just had the most interesting conversation, you see,” Phasma said as she frantically looked through his closet.
Despite her demeanor, however, he wasn’t about to just leap out of his tub and match her energy, he’d been relaxing, for Seven Hells’ sake!
“Well,” Phasma prompted, “aren’t you wondering what my conversation was about?”
She pulled out a soft ocean-blue silk garment, complete with glittering pearls in its collar and gold threads that wound in and out of the folds.
“What was your conversation about, ma’am,” he answered back, bored, unable to keep the disinterest out of his voice.
“Armitage! Have a little respect, you little weasel. And get up out of there, you’re needed out.”
“Out?” This certainly piqued his interest. Why would Armitage be allowed out?
“Yes, out, that’s what my conversation was about,” she replied as she walked to the other side of the room to gently place the garment on the gold hook by Armitage’s full-length mirror.
She stood there for a few moments admiring it as Armitage tried to quickly dry himself.
“Ma’am, what do you mean 'out?' Where am I going?”
She shook herself out of whatever reverie she was in while looking at the dress and turned back to Armitage, who was fully dry and pulling on his simple linen lounge robe.
“It seems that the First Sword is not completely enamored with the offerings that Lys has sent to the Braavosi delegation,” she stepped forward, as close to his face as she’d ever gotten and softly stroked his cheek, “He specifically requested a boy, and not just any boy, but one that looks nothing like all the others,” her hand reached up and took soft hold of his hair. “You don’t look like those other purple-eyed dragon brats we have here, now do you?”
“N-no?”
“No, you don’t,” and then her voice went into a low whisper as she took off his robe and led him over to face the mirror. “You’re young and fiery like your hair, Armitage,” she slowly took the garment off the hook and starting draping him in it, bit by bit. “It is of the utmost importance that you make a good impression, do you understand?” Phasma draped the robes around him in a more revealing manner than it was intended to, but Armitage said nothing. “You must enrapture him, make him desperate for your touch, so that he never forgets with who and where he felt such ineffable pleasure.”
She looked into his eyes through the mirror as she finished tying off the sash of the dress, “It’s nothing you haven’t done before, darling,” and she turned him around to face her once more, “and I have it on excellent authority that this Kylo Ren is quite generous with his favorites.”
Armitage mustered all the confidence he could and met her knowing smile, but he couldn’t help but feel quite nervous. A man like Kylo Ren was surely a brute, how could he be trusted with one of Lys’ finest bed slaves?
Armitage was also apprehensive about stepping out of the manse for the first time since he’d been sold. For all his dreams and fantasies, when confronted with the reality of the outside world, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit nauseous. But Madame Phasma took his arm in hers, and for the first time in 4 years, he stepped outside onto the busy Lysene streeets.
**
The markets had been quite overwhelming, and he was glad for the litter that took them from the pillow house to the First Magister’s pleasure gardens in his expansive home. From the litter, he could still smell and see the sights, the pungent aroma of imported spices, the priests and messengers of various different faiths all shouting on their own corners, believers and passerby alike.
Armitage could smell the sea air, fresh and briny, and it brought him back to the day he had arrived on the shore. He tried to push down the unwelcome melancholy such memories always triggered, and instead tried to get excited about Kylo Ren.
The trip was too quick for his tastes and before he knew it, Phasma was bidding him farewell and urging him out of the carriage.
“You’re not coming with me?”
“Oh no, of course not, I have many matters to tend to,” but with a kinder smile than he’d ever seen her with, she continued, “Don’t worry, love, it’s only for a couple of nights and they’ll take great care of you here. I’ll be back before you know it,” And with a wink and command to the driver, she was gone.
Armitage stood there stupidly, not quite knowing where to go, until one of the magister’s house slaves came and led him to the gardens were the courtesans were entertaining the Braavosi guests. Upon reaching the entrance of the gardens, the First Magister himself came over and announced his arrival to the entire party.
“Kylo Ren! It seems that your precious creature has finally arrived!” the Magister shouted out to the crowd, almost a mocking smile on his face.
The guests all tittered, although Armitage didn’t understand what was so funny. A tall, hulking man, only a bit taller than Armitage, but certainly much broader, stood up and slowly made his way over to where the Magister held Armitage’s waist.
“I’m sure I can handle it from here,” he said to the Magister and Armitage could feel a bit of a thrill run through him at his deep, sure voice. The First Sword looked at him right in the eyes and held out his hand.
“Armitage, is it? Can I interest you in some wine?”
His eyes were kind and expressive, with hair so thick and luscious, Armitage just wanted to bury his fingers in it.
“Yes, I would love some wine.”
“Come,” and Kylo Ren led him to where he had been seated, beneath a lovely lemon tree, heavy and plump with fruit. Once sat, Ren offered to pour them a glass and he’d nearly bit off his tongue to protest against such treatment. After all, it was Armitage’s place to serve, not his patron’s.
“Indulge me,” he assured Armitage, smiling and pouring the wine anyway, “I don’t require a creature as beautiful as you to do the duties of a common servant,”
So Ren poured wine for them that day, and doted on Armitage with hand-fed morsels of figs and cheese, juicy berries and other sweets. They spent the whole day together, ensconced in the shade beneath the lemon tree and while Armitage knew that he was supposed to be putting a spell on the First Sword, to make sure he’d be desperate for his touch, he couldn’t help but feel that it was happening the other way around.
Ren was such a fascinating man and he’d gone all over the world and fought every kind of warrior. Armitage couldn’t help but ask if the rumor about the Dothraki was true, and Kylo Ren had smiled mischievously and confirmed the story, with added details and embellishments.
At nightfall, Armitage realized that his time had come. He was a creature of pleasure and it was in the light of the moon that his gifts shone best.
“Perhaps you’d like to enjoy my company somewhere more private, my Lord?” he asked him coquettishly as he smoothed a hand softly up Ren's thigh.
“Call me Kylo, lovely thing. I won’t have any distance between us,” he whispered back, taking Armitage’s chin in hand and tilting it up. “I’d love to have you all to myself,” and so he led them through the manse without so much as a farewell to any of the other guests.
The First Magister’s mansion was the largest home he’d ever seen, and quite possibly the most lavishly decorated as well. Armitage allowed himself a brief memory of his childhood in the Westerosi Riverlands and the laughable castle he’d called home, with its musty stone walls and weak yellow candlelight. Even the mirrors had been foggy and dirty, whereas here in the Free Cities, every mirror was polished to perfection and framed with a gilded design.
These thoughts didn’t last long, though, for as soon as they got to Kylo Ren’s guest quarters, the swordsman pressed Armitage against one of the walls and claimed his mouth in a languorous, hot kiss.
Armitage couldn’t help the moan he let out at that first touch of Kylo’s mouth. His lips were so soft and he was particularly skilled with his tongue, as he drew back from his mouth to leave soft licks and kisses across his lips and face. Armitage could feel his knees getting weak as Kylo continued to lavish him with kisses, now placed on his throat and his thick, muscled arms twined around his waist to hold him closer.
He wrapped his pale arms around Kylo’s shoulders, feeling helpless against the swells of pleasure growing in his belly. No man he’d ever lain with had ever been this amorous with him.
“Kylo, l-let me pleasure you instead, please, it’s the least I can do.”
“Oh I’m very pleased,” Kylo said huskily against his throat, “I’m very pleased by your soft skin, Armitage, and your red hair, and the sweet noises you make for me,” and bit down softly at the skin he was caressing with his lips.
Armitage let out a slight yelp, followed by a lusty moan when Kylo kept up his attentions, and continued on to his nipples, where he’d pushed aside the soft blue silk that covered them.
“Your mouth feels so good, Kylo,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never— oh, yes never been spoiled like this before.”
Kylo grabbed him and lifted him up so that Armitage could wrap his legs around Kylo’s powerful waist, and he gasped at the strength on display. He was carried to the bed where Kylo threw him on top of the soft blankets where he bounced on the bed before Kylo was upon him once more; he took two handfuls of the periwinkle soft robe and started unwrapping Armitage like a most beloved present.
“I want to give you the world, Armitage, a beauty such as you shouldn’t be hidden on some spit of rocks at the edge of the world,” Kylo said as he tore off his robe and lingered on the soft inside of his thighs with his large and callused hands.
Armitage trembled underneath his touch and eagerly spread his legs even farther, silently begging Kylo to touch him a little lower.
“Give me your touch, first, and then we can discuss the world,” Armitage told him, emboldened by the twinkling affection in Kylo’s eyes.
Kylo sat up on his knees and lifted his pale, slender legs over his firm shoulders as Armitage let out a whimper at the anticipation of what was coming next. Kylo pressed his mouth hungrily on one of his thighs and kissed it as if it would disappear beneath his very lips if he stopped.
He brought one of his hands to Armitage’s mouth and he eagerly opened it to suckle on Kylo’s pointer and middle finger. He sucked, hard, almost as if to remind Kylo that he could suck more than just his fingers. He laved them richly, salivating at the taste of gritty sea and leather that burst on his tongue.
He made sure to coat them as much as he could in his spit, because he had a fair idea on where Kylo intended to put those thick fingers of his, so he sucked ardently, his eyes never leaving Kylo’s and letting soft whimpers leave his throat.
The fingers got pulled out of his mouth before he wanted to, but then Kylo softly pressed them against his entrance and he stopped his pouting immediately. He was just stroking the sensitive rim, not quite pushing in, just massaging his hole, softening the muscle before he started pushing his pointer finger in with intent.
“Oh, oh Kylo, yes, your fingers are so thick, they’re going to feel so good inside me,” he moaned out, clutching the sheets beneath him and looking at the intense look of concentration on Kylo’s face.
“You take it so good, my love. I can’t wait to have you squealing on my cock, but don’t worry,” and he bent down to whisper directly in his ear, “I’ll take good care of you.”
He kept pushing his finger in, moving it in and out until he found that delicious spot inside of him that made Armitage see stars every time. Taking Armitage’s yelp as a sign of consent, he kept pressing on his prostate, massaging it vigorously while Armitage let out a series of whorish sounds, unable to control himself, with his ass getting played with so perfectly and a young and virile warrior above him, bringing him such pleasure.
“I want to taste you,” Armitage whined, eager to have a taste of that substantial cock before Kylo sheathed it in his body to completion. “Please?”
“You beg so prettily, my dear. But not yet. First, I want to taste you.”
He slid his finger out, and got on his chest in front of Armitage’s splayed legs where he grabbed him by the backs of his thighs and lifted them up, until he was bent almost in half. Armitage wasn’t prepared for the long, filthy lick of Kylo’s tongue from his cleft to his balls and right over his hole.
“K-kylo! Yes, yes, please, kiss me there, please Gods, don’t stop—“ I knew he was talented with that tongue, praise the Heavens…
It was a sloppy activity and Armitage could feel his hole relaxing under the wet onslaught. Kylo was kissing his hole as deeply and completely as he had kissed his mouth earlier, his tongue delving into his body and pushing and licking until it could let in more of his tongue.
Kylo alternated between sucking on his hole and pushing in his finger until he managed to get two inside after a particularly hard press against his prostate. With one last wet kiss to his entrance, he slipped out his fingers and walked over to the bedside table and grabbed the jar of oil sitting on top.
Armitage was almost dizzy with arousal and looked over at where Kylo was standing, holding the jar of oil and looking at Armitage with such a fond look on his face. He took the chance to grab Kylo’s cock then, monstrous thing that it was, and tugged him closer so he could reach the dripping cockhead with his mouth.
“Armitage, you sneaky little slut, ahh,” and he tried to smile as much as he could with a thick cock in his mouth, but surely Kylo got the idea. He got his taste after all. Armitage had never quite voraciously enjoyed this act as much as he always pretended to with his patrons, but with Kylo, he had no need to pretend.
The way his length felt so sturdy and hard in his mouth, dripping on his tongue and the barely-contained strength he could feel in Kylo’s thighs as he softly thrust into the wet clutch of his throat, it wound him up and he had to take hold at the base of his own cock so as not to spill so quickly. Kylo looked lost in the pleasure as he looked down at Armitage, mouth stuffed full and eyes watering with the effort to not choke.
“You look so beautiful like this, swallowing down my cock as if you’re starving without it,”
Armitage answered back with a needy moan as he continued to suck, spit collecting around the edges of his mouth and making every thrust that much louder and filthier. “But I’ll finish too soon, I want to have you completely first.” Kylo slid his cock out and poured himself back into bed where he wet his fingers with the oil before going back to Armitage’s still-wet entrance and pressing inside with two of his lubricated fingers.
This time, they were much more slick, with oil and the remnants of Kylo’s earlier attentions. He got fucked harder with those fingers, and Armitage could feel where he was getting stretched, fingers scissoring slightly to loosen the muscle.
He bit at his lips so he wouldn’t make so much noise from just a couple of fingers, but Kylo was so good with his dextrous hands, the way he pressed on his prostate with just the right amount of pressure before easing up and sliding in his fingers that much deeper.
“Please, Kylo, I’m ready, I promise, I want your cock in me so badly, please don’t deny me any longer,” and he slid out his fingers and laid himself completely on top of Armitage.
He couldn’t help but coil his arms around him again and kiss him deeply, uncaring of where his mouth had been earlier. While they were kissing, he could feel a slippery, blunt pressure at his hole and he raised up his legs to wrap around Kylo’s waist, for easier entry.
“Go on,” he whispered in his warrior’s ear, “slide right in and fuck me hard.”
Kylo didn’t need telling twice as he pushed in with one solid thrust, that thick cock stretching Armitage so deliciously, his toes curled.
Armitage let out a wail, almost as if surprised by the twitching cock now inside him. Kylo braced himself with his elbows next the Armitage’s head and he pulled back almost entirely before slamming into him again and again, the puffy rim of his hole giving way to the pressure.
Armitage called out in pleasure to Kylo, to the Gods, to everything, as the slapping of skin on skin got louder in their room, the wet squelching of the oil and the feel of its excess leaking out of his arse and down to his balls, winding up his blood even more, getting him hotter.
Kylo slid out of him so fast he almost cried, but he got flipped over instead, where Kylo hauled him by the hips to lift them high, grabbed his cheeks and pulled them apart as far as possible, so he could dribble another generous helping of spit into his gaping hole.
He gasped as he felt the filthy trickle of it slide deep into his arse before Kylo shoved his cock back in between his spread cheeks and fucked him to within an inch of his life.
He could imagine how he’d look, limping out of here in the morning, trying not to be too obvious that he’d been fucked brainless by the Sealord’s First Sword. Could they hear out in the garden? How long had he been in this room, speared on Kylo Ren’s cock, and loudly announcing his pleasure to all the guests, wherever they may be?
Kylo’s incessant pounding of his arse was reaching places that no other man had ever touched and a light touch of panic managed to break through the haze of arousal; would his arse be okay after this?
But he pressed in so deliciously against his prostate and any other thoughts that weren’t Kylo Ren’s hard, leaking member inside him completely disappeared. He let himself be taken away by the pleasure building low in his groin, it was possible that he’d be able to come just from this, just from Kylo Ren’s cock pushing into him repeatedly and the feel of those massive hands on his hips, his waist, his arsecheeks, as if he couldn’t decide where to put them, where he wanted to touch.
“Oh, sweetling, I’m so close, your body is so wet and tight, I want to fuck you forever,” Kylo groaned out, like the words had been punched out of him.
“Yes, please, you’ve ruined me for anyone else, please never stop fucking me,” Armitage replied, crazed in the moment, desperate to milk out Kylo’s completion and keep it inside of him, proof that this infamous fighter had taken his pleasure with his body. “Right there, right there you’re going to make me come ah, ah, AH, oh Kylo,” he came with a whimper, almost painful as his cock shot out a filthy load of seed all over the beautiful blankets.
“That’s it, squeeze real nice and tight for me, I’m almost there,” Kylo gripped even harder on to his hips and viciously pulled him onto his cock, dragging his whole body and pushing out staccato cries as Armitage whimpered through the overstimulation.
“All mine, this sweet hole is all mine, isn’t it Armitage, isn’t it?” Kylo pleaded, his thrusts growing more forceful and sporadic as he got closer.
“Yes, yes Kylo, all yours, I’m all yours, no one else,”, he babbled back, and in the heat of the moment, he didn’t realize how ridiculous it sounded: Armitage was a courtesan, would get fucked many more times by many more men, and none of them would be Kylo, the First Sword of Braavos.
But that didn’t need to be true, right now and there, as Kylo groaned loudly and his hips stuttered against Armitage’s arse, where Kylo spent himself and he could feel the heat of his come soaking his plundered passage. In the ensuing stillness, it was just the two of them, and all they knew was each other’s warmth.
Kylo stayed inside of him as they both lowered themselves to the bed, and Armitage could feel the wet spot of his spend underneath his stomach. Kylo’s cock eventually softened and slipped out almost on its own and Kylo rolled off him. Armitage was happy to lie there contentedly, until he felt those large hands spread his cheeks to peek at his work.
“That’s a beautiful, sight, Armitage, I wish I could show you. Your sweet pink hole looks so well-fucked, so used, I wish I could get it up and sink into you again right now.”
“You like seeing what you did to me?” Armitage teased. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if Kylo was so deviant as to do it… “Maybe you want to clean up after yourself, too? Can’t let it go to waste, now can I?” and he wiggled his behind as alluringly as he could with his legs being so weak.
“You’re insatiable and I love it,” Kylo replied as he bit down on a cheek and spread them to get at his hole again.
After all it had been through, it was a nice balm to have Kylo now lovingly lick at his hole, collecting all of his own spend and almost apologizing for the rough treatment. Armitage could almost feel himself harden again as Kylo licked everything up before placing an almost-chaste kiss to each of his cheeks, right beside his hole and crawling back up the bed to lay next to Armitage.
“I fear that I won’t be able to let you go now that I’ve had you, my love. The life of a bravo doesn’t often bring me in contact with beautiful creatures such as you.”
“I wish you could take me with you,” Armitage whispered back.
He’d never seen Braavos but he heard many tales of their larger-than-life Titan that would greet all sailors coming to Braavosi shores and the home of the Faceless Men, a fearsome temple devoted to the gods of Death. He could see something harden in Kylo’s eyes, even as he reached up and stroked his sweaty hair. He hoped he hadn’t said anything wrong, but instead Kylo grabbed Armitage’s hair and pulled him toward for another hungry kiss.
“I will make it so, I swear it,” Kylo whispered against his lips before leaning in for another kiss.
They would have each other again that night, with Armitage happily bouncing on that girthy cock, greedily taking in every inch, and Kylo murmured more promises, said that he’d give Armitage everything, anything, and Armitage would respond that all he wanted was more, more more of Kylo and his kisses, more nights, more of his sweet praise.
They fall asleep spent in each other’s arms, Armitage dreaming of a fantasy that could never happen, a life in Braavos with his swordsman at his side. But Kylo Ren was no dreamer; he was a man of great determination, and he kept his promises. By the time the sun rose and illuminated the copper tones of Armitage’s fiery hair, Kylo Ren had realized what he had to do.