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This had been an accident.
If they made it out of this alive, every part of their body safely intact and avoidance of excessive blood loss secure — they would bury this. Deep beneath layered memories of inferior events, impromptu method cheap like ersatz coffee and synthetic jewelry. They had to forget this.
For Corrin's sake, for Corrin's dignity, and — for future accusation of stale cynicism — their own ability to look him in the eye.
Niles was going to kill them if he found out, Corrin was going to die of embarrassment if he knew (and maybe kill them too).
They'd prefer to avoid torture tactics and the commander of their army couldn't die, not like this. Odin is vibrating in abundant fear and trembling with a high on danger. He looks to Laslow, pupils blown and fingers clenched.
"What do we —"
Uncharacteristically Laslow kicks him, right in the knee and Odin keels in fleeting pain and shoots a weak glare before he realizes that Laslow's actions are for the greater good.
This greater good wouldn't have to be a thing had Laslow not insisted on post meal time rations for his naturally demanding appetite. If the ladies had not needed supper time wooing then they would not be in this predicament.
Odin blames Laslow; Laslow blames his uncanny luck with rejection.
Either way they're stuck here.
It started with a harmless expedition to the mess hall, something that would come and pass, easy and swiftly like the women that passed up Laslow when they caught on to the game he was playing. No one would be hurt and the ration of bread that Laslow needed was rightfully his, that's what he reasoned except Odin was supposed to keep look out, Odin was supposed to make sure they didn't get caught while Laslow pilfered through the pantry. It was until Odin came crashing into the back room, panic overtaking his features because he heard someone — Someone's coming! Hurry, quick, hide!
He ended up pushing Laslow into the pantry and closing the door behind them, his best bet since there's no other mess hall exit.
The new intruders cut right to the chase. There was minimal shuffling and movement followed by a gasp and, and —
Wet sounds. Squelching. Breathy moans and keening whimpers.
This time Laslow and Odin weren't just terrified, they were completely and utterly horrified, scared of what to expect, not prepared for the situation that they've strung themselves into.
They've been in there for a while, for what felt like ages, both of them too scared to do anything except listen in with attuned reluctance.
They couldn't do anything and so they waited.
They still can't do anything and so they continue to wait.
That's how they've gotten into this problem, here, now, playing a painful wait game with red faces and quietly rattled breathing.
And so here they are.
Events unfold before them like crumpled paper, quick and unpredictable and most certainly messy. Regardless, they need to stay concealed, in a substitute haven of the mess hall's back pantry, clustered in with war time rations and bagged beans.
Daringly (and most stupidly), Odin peeks through the crack of the pantry door. He hopes to whatever deities are out there that they can work a convenient miracle (right about now, Odin wants to add on to deaf ears) and that what he expects is not what he will get.
Maybe the bad karma Laslow harbors has rubbed off on him as a falsely accused accomplice because nothing works in his favor.
Odin sees them from an angle and if Corrin were to snap out of the throes of his gratification then surely they would be caught. He can see the young prince's face, brows furrowed and mouth falling open in moans that pitch higher with every thrust that Niles grants. His dexterous fingers clench on to Niles and his eyes speak his feelings, closed tight and then fluttering and —
Shit.
Odin throws himself away from the door, but the pantry's intention is not a cozy space for two and so he bumps into Laslow, who gasps in quiet shock. Odin's heart hammers against his chest, a heat paints over his face and he finds useless purchase against the inner pantry walls.
"N-Niles and Lord Cor —!"
Laslow immediately throws a hand over his mouth, pressing him against the wall as he shuts him up. If they were to be heard, if it were Niles and he caught them, then surely they should just end themselves now (death before the impending possessive vengeance of the outlaw).
Laslow looks at him, Odin can read him like a book What? What did you see?! He's bewildered but hoping for a different outcome, one of the misunderstanding that Odin hoped for and accusations of perverse situations rather than actually being right.
Before his sense of sight matches up with his sense of hearing, Laslow can hear lustful gasps and sobs. He knows he shouldn't, but —
He looks anyway.
It's a tugging curiosity and Odin bites his hand so he doesn't scream, watches as Laslow goes completely red up to the tips of his ears.
It is what Laslow thinks it is.
Corrin's pants pool around his ankles, feet dangling slightly above the floor from where Niles has him pushed down on to the table. The undershirt of his armor is pushed up, Niles' hands slides against his delectable skin in smooth motions, fingers going to fondle one of his nipples as he pinches and pulls at it, doubling on pleasure for Corrin as his husband writhes beneath him, pulling Niles down into a sloppy kiss.
Laslow sees a clatter of teeth and tongues touch and he almost goes weak in the knees. His palms are sweaty and clammy and he shouldn't be looking. He chances a glance at Odin, whose taken to quiet dramatic theatrics in the corner, an attempt to blank out what unfolds before them is what Laslow assumes. He's mouthing silent things to himself, his face completely pale and Laslow is sure that Odin's coping mechanism is not working.
Laslow thinks Why can't they go to their room?!, but then he remembers that everyone has been looking for Corrin lately, needing this or that and that this small sliver of time (ages to Laslow and Odin) is time to release their accumulating want and need before their busy schedules sweep them up again.
And then obvious realization hits Laslow, heavy and certain. He's intruded on something that he was not meant to see, but he cannot take it back. What was he supposed to do? Waltz out now and bid a simple misunderstanding? As much as he wishes it were that easy, he can't do that, not this far, not with heat building down south either. For Corrin it's crazy, but it's his body's natural reaction, that's what he rightfully deems.
"What are we gonna do?!" Laslow whispers in quiet urgency, so quiet (he's too scared that they may be caught) that he's pretty sure Odin didn't hear him.
There's no way to leave, no secret escape route and no hidden tunnel to freedom.
They have to sit this one out.
That's it. They were going to die in here. They were going to die peeping Toms and no one would come to their funerals.
Laslow dares another look, tries to look away again but his whole body heats up with embarrassment. His legs feel concreted against the ground but also feel like jelly, he can't move but if he could he would follow in Odin's footsteps, cover his ears and curl in on himself because that's the best option right now.
Except Laslow can't.
Niles cages Corrin in with sinewy forearms, trails tender kisses along his jaw. One of Corrin's hands takes purchase around an arm besides his head and he pushes down onto Niles, takes him in, impales himself further on to his thick cock. He rolls his hips, enjoying the feeling of Niles inside of him, filling him up and reaching him in all the right places.
"You like that?" Niles' voice is utterly dirty, husky, and despite the pantry being across the room and Laslow and Odin trying to give them some type of semblance of privacy under these certain circumstances, there's an uncomfortable feeling of something unknown within them too. Why does Niles' voice have to sound so deep, so sultry?
No, no! They were not thinking that! Claustrophobia and bagged beans were getting to their heads.
"Y-yes," Corrin hiccups cutely and nods eagerly, rutting against Niles who growls in return. "P-please!"
Niles lets Corrin fuck himself on his cock a little longer, soaking in the view with a lascivious grin and then gives Corrin no room left to beg because he thrusts into him violently, scraping the table legs against the mess hall floor at the force. Corrin chokes on a moan as he throws his head back, throat exposed and body shuddering. Weakly and desperately he tries to fuck himself onto Niles cock again, who in return saves him the effort this time and pounds into him. His touch is bruising, his feverish energy endless.
Apparently volume just now occurs to the prince as his hands fly up to cover his mouth, his face flushed and embarrassed as he bites down on to his gentle fingers to stifle his moans. Niles doesn't tolerate it, he pulls Corrin's hands away and whispers something against his mouth, tongue flickering against his kiss swollen lips. Niles kisses Corrin's cheeks, his forehead, the corners of his mouth and intertwines their fingers, hand contrasting greatly with Corrin's pale skin.
Corrin's skin is surprisingly soft, like a maiden's, Laslow knows this on an off chance. Their hands made lingering contact once (enough for Laslow to take note of this unbeknownst fact) while Corrin passed him a towel to rid of sweat after training. And now the spread of those supple, milky thighs and lithe torso belong to Niles and Niles belongs to him, respectively, knowingly but not like this.
Laslow gulps.
Who knew that Corrin could be as beautiful as a maiden as well? Why did he have to look and sound the way he did? Silky hair and soft skin and breathy moans, delicate curves and —
No.
Corrin is Niles' and Niles is Corrin's.
Laslow embeds that into his mind persistently, but just because he battles with his own clashing inner turmoil doesn't stop the events before him. His throat goes dry and the only thing he can do is ball his fists, leaving crescent moons in his palms.
Laslow hears Corrin moan.
"Yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes, there! Right there!" Corrin's voice vibrates with the rest of him as Niles continues entering him, angles into him and fucks him harder. His voice is wobbly, shaking like his body as he bounces against Niles' cock, slants his hips and pulls Niles against him with his legs, adding force to erratic movements. He seems like he's thrown himself into a loop, high on indulgence as he pushes Niles away with weak arms, moans getting higher, but he's quick to refute his actions of apparent disapproval, he begs — "Inside! Inside! Please! A-ah! Come inside! Fill me up, n-now!"
Before Corrin can finish his desperate demand, Niles catches him in a messy kiss, bruising his lips as Corrin cries in muffled moans. He breathes heavy through his nose and digs his nails into Niles' shoulders. The table shakes as Niles pushes into him over and over, deeper and faster, grunting as Corrin tenses in his arms while crying his muffled name like a mantra. Niles breaks the kiss and slams back into Corrin, groaning the prince's name against his lips as he cums deep inside of his husband. He rides out his orgasm as Corrin cries beneath him, sated and sore.
Corrin goes limp, legs still spread wide but he has had yet to cum. Niles isn't selfish, he's a pleaser. He tries to please his husband as much as he can until Corrin is thrown into that familiar high, when his orgasm hits and his body twitches, soft thighs trembling and tensing, voice cracking with unadulterated want. He wants that, Niles loves it and it's only right that he does his job, to make Corrin cum.
Niles pulls out of Corrin and Corrin whines in complaint and surprise. Niles kisses him once before he's fully out, his cum leaking between Corrin's legs, spilling out of his stretched hole.
Odin has his hands over his ears and looks to Laslow tentatively, there's miniscule hope in his eyes, that this will be over soon. He tries to voice his urgent inquiry, but his words get caught in his throat, crushed with his hopefulness.
Still.
They're still going at it.
Niles wraps his fingers around Corrin's slim waist and pulls him down, lower along the edge of the table as he leans down, sprinkles kisses and bite marks along his inner thighs before he takes Corrin into his mouth. The young prince gasps, airy and sweet as Niles begins sucking, tasting him as he laps his tongue along Corrin's leaking slit and bobs his head back down, taking him in until his cock hits the back of Niles' throat.
Corrin throws his head back and chokes out a strangled sob, chest rising and falling, body slicked with euphoric exhaustion. He twists his fingers into the snowy locks of Niles hair and wraps his legs around the outlaw's shoulders.
Niles sinks his mouth back down around Corrin's cock and concludes that he isn't doing enough for Corrin because Corrin hasn't cum yet. His fingers trail down to Corrin's entrance and tease his abused hole. Corrin's legs almost close inadvertently, but Niles holds them apart with strong hands. He slips a finger into Corrin and the prince takes it ready and greedily, like their previously lost connection needed to be desperately restored even if it's through Niles' forefinger.
Corrin moves his hips and moans loudly, roughly tugs at Niles hair and tightens his legs around his husband's head, pleasantly trapping him between his legs.
This isn't something Niles minds.
Niles thrusts another finger in and sucks Corrin off at a faster pace, moving along his shaft in quicker motions as his fingers go deeper, curling within him and spilling cum out of the warm heat of his hole.
Corrin cries, something about how Niles is letting too much out before his body goes taut, back arching beautifully off of the table in such a way that it looks like he may break. He chokes and quivers and much to Niles' satisfaction — cums. Niles doesn't pull away, instead he takes more of Corrin into his mouth and drinks up the mess he's made.
Corrin slumps against the table, makes grabbing motions with his hands and pulls Niles into his arms. He murmurs something against Niles' shoulder (what sounds like and is most probably an I love you) as Niles cards his fingers through Corrin's hair, reciprocates his enamored words and asks if he's okay, whispers sweet like honey.
They shouldn't have seen this.
They have to leave. Now.
"I-I think they're finished," Laslow whispers, his body finally snapping back into functionality.
Odin looks dead and relieved at the same time.
They wait in agonizing silence and within a minute Niles and Corrin are gone (Laslow would like to thank Corrin's paranoia on being caught, despite the fact that that is already the case although he doesn't know).
As soon as the coast is clear, Odin shoves his way past Laslow and out of the pantry, falling on to his knees and... and are those tears?
He clasps his hands together, thanking something that's obviously not Laslow. "Thank you, thank you for letting us out of this one alive! I'll never slack off on training again and I'll finally fess up to being the one who accidentally set Laslow on fire that one time and I'll never —"
"That was you?!"
Odin ignores his question. "Laslow of the Azure Skies, this is not what I agreed to when I came to aid you in plundering bread!"
"Uh, um... Plunder is hardly the right word..."
"We must bury this behind us! We must leave, now!"
And they do, frantic and scrambling as they try to hold a straight face for their peers once they return to the barracks.
-
The next morning on their way to breakfast, Corrin greets them happily, always the early riser.
"Good morning," his smile rivals the brightness of the sun, his voice layered with morning time amiability except Laslow and Odin know it's capable of so much more.
"G-good morning!" Laslow stutters.
"Yeah! Same, same! Bye!" Odin rushes past Corrin, Laslow following suit and as they hurry away from the crux of their flustered embarrassment, they pass Niles.
He stares at them, a gleam in his eye, like he knows —
He knows, he knows! Oh shit, oh no! He knows!
And then he quirks a small smile, wicked and dangerous. "Good morning."
Since when did Niles' voice sound so sexy?
Laslow and Odin can't take it, the forces of the universe working against them. They scream and take off.
Odin was right, Laslow will never be able to look them in the eye again.
Shit.