A Question Of Honour
Title A Question Of Honour
Author: josafiend
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Brian Haner/Zack Baker, Matt Sanders/Brandan Schieppati, James Hart/Mick Morris, Jacoby Shaddix/Mick Morris, Jimmy Sullivan/Jonathan Seward.
Summary: A medieval tale of passion, hope and honour in a world of betrayal.
Disclaimer: Although the people in this story exist, the situations in which they are placed are entirely fictional. No harm intended.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Matthew was eating breakfast. The knights had gathered for a briefing from the King and a hearty meal before they began their journey north. Sir Brian was noticeably absent, something a quick thinking Jacoby had dealt with, easily distracting James' attention with news of more men willing to join the army on route.
The shaven headed knight wasn't in the mood for a meal. It was not nerves which suppressed his appetite but the empty seat opposite him. A constant reminder that he may have murdered a close friend of the King. The monarch, despite Jacoby's admirable attempts, still stared curiously at the vacant chair. It was unheard of a knight to miss the 'March Breakfast' especially Brian, who despite his enviable physique could usually put away twice as much food as the rest of them!
“A-ha! I was wondering where you'd got to!” James cried happily as Brian entered the room, limping only slightly and not enough for the King to warrant it worthy of a question. “Did we oversleep?”
Brian grinned. “Aye my Lord, forgive me?”
“Of course!”
Brian slipped gingerly into his seat, reaching across the table for eggs and meat, while a serving boy filled his mug with hot tea. His brown eyes glanced upwards to Matthew, narrowing to slits as they were met by a cold hazel stare. Brian smirked, leaning back and beginning to attack his breakfast. He knew it gave Matthew great pain to see that he had not finished him off entirely and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much agony he was in each time he moved. The sudden movement that morning had done him no good at all.
He shifted his gaze over to Jacoby who was deep in conversation with Mick. Brian couldn't help but notice how joyful his friend was in the slim knight's company. He had been so distracted the last few days that he had completely missed the bond growing between them. He thought for a moment how Jacoby being close to someone other than him should have made him jealous, but it didn't. He was glad for Jacoby because when they returned from the war Brian wanted to spend his waking moments with Zack.
“Gentlemen!” James cried, standing and holding his cup aloft. “With God on our side we shall be victorious! I pray that we meet again around this table, with Prince Alex's head as our center piece!”
The knights responded with a resounding cheer.
“Let us mount up and be on our way then good sirs.”
The flagstones squealed with the sound of chairs being pushed back and the rafters echoed with excited shouts as the men left the dining hall. Jacoby and Brian exchanged a glance, the long haired knight sighing when his friend's lip curled into a sneer and the pale blue eyes looked away.
“You and Sir Brian don't seem your usual friendly selves.” Mick noted as he and Jacoby wandered out to the courtyard.
Jacoby squinted into the low winter sun, seeing a groom making the final adjustments to his horse's tack. “We have had a disagreement. Sir Brian has made an ill-advised decision and I am waiting for his apology.”
Mick's armour clanked as he peered around the jostling crowd for his own horse. “Do you think that he will be forthcoming with it?”
The taller knight shrugged. “Doubtful. He's as stubborn as a mule.”
The townspeople had gathered again to see them away. King James and his knights rode at the head of the parade, with the rest of the cavalry and the army on foot behind. Children threw flowers beneath the hooves of the horses and the King bowed graciously to them, waving to the cheers and shouts of well wishers.
Brian rode at the king's left, his mind a long way from the noisy street. He had taken one last look across the grounds towards the stables as they had left the gates, his heart aching within his chest at the fact that he had to leave Zack, just as things were beginning. Sunhoney pulled at her reins as blooms flew near her face, the knight regained his senses and rode onwards knowing this would be the longest war he would have to endure.
They rode as far as Leeds before they made camp, the previous nights having been spent in lodgings organised by a groom sent on ahead. The army slept outside, while the knights stayed in rooms together. Brian and Jacoby still barely speaking despite sleeping only inches from each other. Matt, who had noticed the rift between the two of them, found the situation entirely amusing. He felt that Brian had had more than enough time to recover from his duelling injury for their rivalry to return to it's usual intensity.
“All alone again?” The short haired knight asked as he walked past a silently eating Brian in the marquee.
“Have a point or be on your way.” Brian replied without looking up.
Matthew sniggered to himself and walked across towards his tent, noticing with curiosity that the door panels were not as he had left them. He looked around himself, but hardly anyone was around. Those who were, were concentrating on their own business and not on the confused knight.
He stepped towards the doorway and peered gingerly inside, just as a pair of strong arms shot out of the darkness and dragged him inwards.
“What in the name of...”
“Shush!” Brandan hissed, quickly fastening the canvas and plunging himself and the knight into almost total darkness.
“Brandan! What in the heavens are you doing? This is utterly reckless!”
The aide laughed softly. “Reckless would have been doing what I so dearly wanted to while you were at dinner.”
Matthew sighed, feeling soft fingers wrap around his jaw. “You shouldn't be here.”
Brandan climbed carefully across Matthew's lap, straddling his thighs. “Would you like me to leave?” He asked demurely, pushing his hips forward and forcing a low moan from the knight.
“Damn you.” Matthew whispered, his hands snaking around Brandan's buttocks and clutching them firmly.
“I think the time has come.” The aide said, running his tongue delicately across Matthew's lower lip, which trembled at the touch. He could already feel his partner's arousal through his breeches.
“Brandan no.” Matthew replied firmly, pushing Brandan to his feet. “Not here. Not like this.”
“Then when?” The aide snapped indignantly. “And how? How long must I wait? I cannot love you any harder Matthew! Do you wish me to bleed? Because I would!”
Matthew rubbed his brow with frustration. “I do not doubt the intensity of your affection my love. I never would. But here? Do you think I have waited this long for our union to become something so cheap?” The knight reached out to the aide, running his hands down his arms until their hands met and their fingers intertwined. “I will take you to my bed Brandan, and I will love every inch of you with the patience and attention you deserve.”
Brandan whined at the thought, leaning forwards to press his lips against Matthew's. “Since you put it so beautifully, how can I argue?”
“Brandan! Where have you been?” James demanded as his aide appeared in the monarch's tent.
Brandan bowed. “My apologies my Lord, I'm afraid I was attending to a call of nature.”
The King eyed his employee suspiciously. “Very well. Would you be so kind as to bring Sir Mick to me?”
“Yes, of course.” Brandan replied, backing out of the tent and breathing for the first time in minutes. He strode across the grass to the small collection of tents by the river and headed for the one he knew to be Mick's.
“Sir Mick?” The aide hissed at the doorway.
Mick's head appeared through the gap, looking at Brandan with an expression the younger man could only describe as hopelessness.
“I apologise for the disturbance Sir, but the King requests your company.”
The knight looked at Brandan blankly, then at his feet. “Brandan?” He began softly.
“Yes Sir?”
Mick sighed. “If you were to return to the King with news that I was not in my tent, and I were to vacate it, should anyone else come looking, would that be such a bad thing?”
The aide smiled sadly. “You do not share the King's affections?”
“I do not.” Mick said quietly.
“I shall tell him you are away, but I do not know if I shall be able to do it again.”
The knight smiled gratefully. “Thank you Brandan, I cannot convey how much I appreciate this.”
“I can understand your predicament, although I cannot presume to know just how it feels.” Brandan replied. “Goodnight Sir.”
Mick grabbed his tunic, his boots and his sword, he laced his tent entrance and slipped across the twilit ground to the door of Jacoby's tent.
“Jacoby!” He whispered, and a moment later he was tying the tent together from within.
“He called for you again?” Jacoby asked, sitting on his thin mattress in just his under garments.
Mick collapsed cross-legged to the ground, his shoulders sagging. “This will never end will it?” He asked in a trembling voice.
“Hush now!” Jacoby soothed, crawling from his bed to where the other knight was sitting and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “There is no need.”
“There is every need!” Mick snapped. “How can I be expected to make love to a man who I barely like? How am I supposed to find my own love, when I am constantly at the beck and call of the King?”
Jacoby ignored the outburst and allowed his companion to bury his head into his neck, feeling the light tickle of tears as they traced across his collar bone.
“I'm sorry.” Mick sniffed, lifting his head and smiling, rather wetly, back at the comforting knight.
“Not a problem.” Jacoby replied, reaching up to brush a tear from Mick's cheek. He felt a flutter within his chest at the very moment his thumb touched Mick's skin. A flutter which intensified when the other knight's eyes dropped closed. Instead of removing the hand, he lowered it so it cupped Mick's jaw gently and guided their lips together in a chaste kiss.
“I'm sorry.” Mick said again.
Jacoby sat back for a moment, regarding Mick curiously. “Don't be.” He replied, leaning forwards once more and capturing Mick's lips with his own. Much more forcefully this time, in a kiss which was whole-heartedly reciprocated. They toppled to the floor, limbs tangled as the kiss evolved into needing, grasping and pulling at clothing. Jacoby wrestled with Mick's breeches impatiently, almost tearing the material in his haste to remove them. Once discarded, the messy haired knight guided Mick's legs around his waist, pushing down against him, their erections meeting and muffled moans emitted as they continued to kiss ferociously.
“Is this what you want?” Jacoby asked breathlessly.
Mick reached up and wound his fingers through Jacoby's hair, dragging the absent lips back to his. “Yes” He mumbled, taking Jacoby's fingers and sucking at them, gasping as one, then both of them slipped inside him.
“Is that right?” Jacoby asked, twisting the fingers gently.
Mick moaned his approval and pushed against the fingers, his back arched like a cat against Jacoby's chest above him. The feel of their skin together sending shock-waves all over his body.
Jacoby gazed down at the creature below him as it writhed with pleasure. His dick was pulsing almost painfully, he gasped as the tip ghosted across the soft skin of Mick's perineum.
“Dear God.” Mick breathed, spitting in his hand then reaching down to almost wantonly guiding the other knight's member towards his own entrance. He hissed for a second, Jacoby unable to stop the moan escaping his lips as he slowly slipped inside. For the first time the younger knight understood, and realised that nothing would ever be able to compete with what he was experiencing. The claustrophobic sensation around his erection was so mind-blowing he doubted he would have been able to recall his own name if he were asked in this moment.
Mick's hips rocked gently, the older knight manoeuvring their bodies till he sat above Jacoby riding him so much more skilfully than he ever could ride his own horse. The man below him bit down on his lip and bucked his hips upwards, Mick's prostate taking a direct hit and a whimper of ecstasy inviting Jacoby to repeat the motion. Again and again he assaulted Mick's spot until the knight was almost crying. Jacoby pulled Mick to him, his hands grasping at his buttocks and delivering thrusts at a break neck pace. Their tongues colliding clumsily, cries and whimpers constantly escaping and Mick holding onto Jacoby's hair as the orgasm crashed through him.
“Jesus!” Jacoby hissed, biting down into the flesh of Mick's shoulder.
Mick collapsed against him, breathing fast, a layer of sweat coating his naked, spent body.
It was at dawn the following morning that Mick awoke. He could feel Jacoby's arm resting across his stomach and the faint tickle of the other knight's hair beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and smiled, feeling something which previously had only been a distant memory; happiness.
Author: josafiend
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Brian Haner/Zack Baker, Matt Sanders/Brandan Schieppati, James Hart/Mick Morris, Jacoby Shaddix/Mick Morris, Jimmy Sullivan/Jonathan Seward.
Summary: A medieval tale of passion, hope and honour in a world of betrayal.
Disclaimer: Although the people in this story exist, the situations in which they are placed are entirely fictional. No harm intended.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Matthew was eating breakfast. The knights had gathered for a briefing from the King and a hearty meal before they began their journey north. Sir Brian was noticeably absent, something a quick thinking Jacoby had dealt with, easily distracting James' attention with news of more men willing to join the army on route.
The shaven headed knight wasn't in the mood for a meal. It was not nerves which suppressed his appetite but the empty seat opposite him. A constant reminder that he may have murdered a close friend of the King. The monarch, despite Jacoby's admirable attempts, still stared curiously at the vacant chair. It was unheard of a knight to miss the 'March Breakfast' especially Brian, who despite his enviable physique could usually put away twice as much food as the rest of them!
“A-ha! I was wondering where you'd got to!” James cried happily as Brian entered the room, limping only slightly and not enough for the King to warrant it worthy of a question. “Did we oversleep?”
Brian grinned. “Aye my Lord, forgive me?”
“Of course!”
Brian slipped gingerly into his seat, reaching across the table for eggs and meat, while a serving boy filled his mug with hot tea. His brown eyes glanced upwards to Matthew, narrowing to slits as they were met by a cold hazel stare. Brian smirked, leaning back and beginning to attack his breakfast. He knew it gave Matthew great pain to see that he had not finished him off entirely and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much agony he was in each time he moved. The sudden movement that morning had done him no good at all.
He shifted his gaze over to Jacoby who was deep in conversation with Mick. Brian couldn't help but notice how joyful his friend was in the slim knight's company. He had been so distracted the last few days that he had completely missed the bond growing between them. He thought for a moment how Jacoby being close to someone other than him should have made him jealous, but it didn't. He was glad for Jacoby because when they returned from the war Brian wanted to spend his waking moments with Zack.
“Gentlemen!” James cried, standing and holding his cup aloft. “With God on our side we shall be victorious! I pray that we meet again around this table, with Prince Alex's head as our center piece!”
The knights responded with a resounding cheer.
“Let us mount up and be on our way then good sirs.”
The flagstones squealed with the sound of chairs being pushed back and the rafters echoed with excited shouts as the men left the dining hall. Jacoby and Brian exchanged a glance, the long haired knight sighing when his friend's lip curled into a sneer and the pale blue eyes looked away.
“You and Sir Brian don't seem your usual friendly selves.” Mick noted as he and Jacoby wandered out to the courtyard.
Jacoby squinted into the low winter sun, seeing a groom making the final adjustments to his horse's tack. “We have had a disagreement. Sir Brian has made an ill-advised decision and I am waiting for his apology.”
Mick's armour clanked as he peered around the jostling crowd for his own horse. “Do you think that he will be forthcoming with it?”
The taller knight shrugged. “Doubtful. He's as stubborn as a mule.”
The townspeople had gathered again to see them away. King James and his knights rode at the head of the parade, with the rest of the cavalry and the army on foot behind. Children threw flowers beneath the hooves of the horses and the King bowed graciously to them, waving to the cheers and shouts of well wishers.
Brian rode at the king's left, his mind a long way from the noisy street. He had taken one last look across the grounds towards the stables as they had left the gates, his heart aching within his chest at the fact that he had to leave Zack, just as things were beginning. Sunhoney pulled at her reins as blooms flew near her face, the knight regained his senses and rode onwards knowing this would be the longest war he would have to endure.
They rode as far as Leeds before they made camp, the previous nights having been spent in lodgings organised by a groom sent on ahead. The army slept outside, while the knights stayed in rooms together. Brian and Jacoby still barely speaking despite sleeping only inches from each other. Matt, who had noticed the rift between the two of them, found the situation entirely amusing. He felt that Brian had had more than enough time to recover from his duelling injury for their rivalry to return to it's usual intensity.
“All alone again?” The short haired knight asked as he walked past a silently eating Brian in the marquee.
“Have a point or be on your way.” Brian replied without looking up.
Matthew sniggered to himself and walked across towards his tent, noticing with curiosity that the door panels were not as he had left them. He looked around himself, but hardly anyone was around. Those who were, were concentrating on their own business and not on the confused knight.
He stepped towards the doorway and peered gingerly inside, just as a pair of strong arms shot out of the darkness and dragged him inwards.
“What in the name of...”
“Shush!” Brandan hissed, quickly fastening the canvas and plunging himself and the knight into almost total darkness.
“Brandan! What in the heavens are you doing? This is utterly reckless!”
The aide laughed softly. “Reckless would have been doing what I so dearly wanted to while you were at dinner.”
Matthew sighed, feeling soft fingers wrap around his jaw. “You shouldn't be here.”
Brandan climbed carefully across Matthew's lap, straddling his thighs. “Would you like me to leave?” He asked demurely, pushing his hips forward and forcing a low moan from the knight.
“Damn you.” Matthew whispered, his hands snaking around Brandan's buttocks and clutching them firmly.
“I think the time has come.” The aide said, running his tongue delicately across Matthew's lower lip, which trembled at the touch. He could already feel his partner's arousal through his breeches.
“Brandan no.” Matthew replied firmly, pushing Brandan to his feet. “Not here. Not like this.”
“Then when?” The aide snapped indignantly. “And how? How long must I wait? I cannot love you any harder Matthew! Do you wish me to bleed? Because I would!”
Matthew rubbed his brow with frustration. “I do not doubt the intensity of your affection my love. I never would. But here? Do you think I have waited this long for our union to become something so cheap?” The knight reached out to the aide, running his hands down his arms until their hands met and their fingers intertwined. “I will take you to my bed Brandan, and I will love every inch of you with the patience and attention you deserve.”
Brandan whined at the thought, leaning forwards to press his lips against Matthew's. “Since you put it so beautifully, how can I argue?”
“Brandan! Where have you been?” James demanded as his aide appeared in the monarch's tent.
Brandan bowed. “My apologies my Lord, I'm afraid I was attending to a call of nature.”
The King eyed his employee suspiciously. “Very well. Would you be so kind as to bring Sir Mick to me?”
“Yes, of course.” Brandan replied, backing out of the tent and breathing for the first time in minutes. He strode across the grass to the small collection of tents by the river and headed for the one he knew to be Mick's.
“Sir Mick?” The aide hissed at the doorway.
Mick's head appeared through the gap, looking at Brandan with an expression the younger man could only describe as hopelessness.
“I apologise for the disturbance Sir, but the King requests your company.”
The knight looked at Brandan blankly, then at his feet. “Brandan?” He began softly.
“Yes Sir?”
Mick sighed. “If you were to return to the King with news that I was not in my tent, and I were to vacate it, should anyone else come looking, would that be such a bad thing?”
The aide smiled sadly. “You do not share the King's affections?”
“I do not.” Mick said quietly.
“I shall tell him you are away, but I do not know if I shall be able to do it again.”
The knight smiled gratefully. “Thank you Brandan, I cannot convey how much I appreciate this.”
“I can understand your predicament, although I cannot presume to know just how it feels.” Brandan replied. “Goodnight Sir.”
Mick grabbed his tunic, his boots and his sword, he laced his tent entrance and slipped across the twilit ground to the door of Jacoby's tent.
“Jacoby!” He whispered, and a moment later he was tying the tent together from within.
“He called for you again?” Jacoby asked, sitting on his thin mattress in just his under garments.
Mick collapsed cross-legged to the ground, his shoulders sagging. “This will never end will it?” He asked in a trembling voice.
“Hush now!” Jacoby soothed, crawling from his bed to where the other knight was sitting and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “There is no need.”
“There is every need!” Mick snapped. “How can I be expected to make love to a man who I barely like? How am I supposed to find my own love, when I am constantly at the beck and call of the King?”
Jacoby ignored the outburst and allowed his companion to bury his head into his neck, feeling the light tickle of tears as they traced across his collar bone.
“I'm sorry.” Mick sniffed, lifting his head and smiling, rather wetly, back at the comforting knight.
“Not a problem.” Jacoby replied, reaching up to brush a tear from Mick's cheek. He felt a flutter within his chest at the very moment his thumb touched Mick's skin. A flutter which intensified when the other knight's eyes dropped closed. Instead of removing the hand, he lowered it so it cupped Mick's jaw gently and guided their lips together in a chaste kiss.
“I'm sorry.” Mick said again.
Jacoby sat back for a moment, regarding Mick curiously. “Don't be.” He replied, leaning forwards once more and capturing Mick's lips with his own. Much more forcefully this time, in a kiss which was whole-heartedly reciprocated. They toppled to the floor, limbs tangled as the kiss evolved into needing, grasping and pulling at clothing. Jacoby wrestled with Mick's breeches impatiently, almost tearing the material in his haste to remove them. Once discarded, the messy haired knight guided Mick's legs around his waist, pushing down against him, their erections meeting and muffled moans emitted as they continued to kiss ferociously.
“Is this what you want?” Jacoby asked breathlessly.
Mick reached up and wound his fingers through Jacoby's hair, dragging the absent lips back to his. “Yes” He mumbled, taking Jacoby's fingers and sucking at them, gasping as one, then both of them slipped inside him.
“Is that right?” Jacoby asked, twisting the fingers gently.
Mick moaned his approval and pushed against the fingers, his back arched like a cat against Jacoby's chest above him. The feel of their skin together sending shock-waves all over his body.
Jacoby gazed down at the creature below him as it writhed with pleasure. His dick was pulsing almost painfully, he gasped as the tip ghosted across the soft skin of Mick's perineum.
“Dear God.” Mick breathed, spitting in his hand then reaching down to almost wantonly guiding the other knight's member towards his own entrance. He hissed for a second, Jacoby unable to stop the moan escaping his lips as he slowly slipped inside. For the first time the younger knight understood, and realised that nothing would ever be able to compete with what he was experiencing. The claustrophobic sensation around his erection was so mind-blowing he doubted he would have been able to recall his own name if he were asked in this moment.
Mick's hips rocked gently, the older knight manoeuvring their bodies till he sat above Jacoby riding him so much more skilfully than he ever could ride his own horse. The man below him bit down on his lip and bucked his hips upwards, Mick's prostate taking a direct hit and a whimper of ecstasy inviting Jacoby to repeat the motion. Again and again he assaulted Mick's spot until the knight was almost crying. Jacoby pulled Mick to him, his hands grasping at his buttocks and delivering thrusts at a break neck pace. Their tongues colliding clumsily, cries and whimpers constantly escaping and Mick holding onto Jacoby's hair as the orgasm crashed through him.
“Jesus!” Jacoby hissed, biting down into the flesh of Mick's shoulder.
Mick collapsed against him, breathing fast, a layer of sweat coating his naked, spent body.
It was at dawn the following morning that Mick awoke. He could feel Jacoby's arm resting across his stomach and the faint tickle of the other knight's hair beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and smiled, feeling something which previously had only been a distant memory; happiness.