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see me lose focus.

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He only catches glimpses of it, pitch blackness against the pale of Theon’s skin. Only glimpses, because he’s trying not to stare, trying not to be obvious. It’s not proper, but he can’t help but be curious about the swirls of black he occasionally sees over Theon’s side down by his right hip.

The first time he sees it, all of it, is an accident really. In too much of a hurry to wait for a response as he bursts into Theon’s room, stopping short and simply staring, mouth agape. Of course, it’s the Greyjoy sigil, a krakken, spread over most of Theon’s back and curling around his side. He’s heard of things like this, ink being forced under people’s skin, of the pain and the permanence.

He’s struck by the urge to touch when he finally realizes he’s starring, his face heating as he drags his eyes up to Theon, who is watching him with his perpetual amusement and something else. Robb fumbles out an excuse and promptly flees.

--

It’s harder to avoid Theon than he would like it to be, mostly because they spend most of their time together as it is and it’s just strange for Theon to not be there. It’s even harder to not act like something is weird, he’s sort out of sorts, nearly dropping his sword during practice as he finds himself watching Theon again, watching the ease with which he aims and releases each arrow, followed by the telltale thump as it hits the target.

He manages to keep a hold of himself until dinner before he has to excuse himself early, not even noticing that Theon is following him until a hand grabs his door before he can shut it completely. “What?” He snaps harshly, before swallowing and turning away from the door, voice less harsh, “Did you need something?”

He hears rather than sees the door shut, then the soft thud of Theon’s boots on the floor until they stop right behind him, “I think you need something more than I do,” is the response and Robb shudders reflexively.

Turning, he puts a foot or two of space between them, running his fingers through his hair with a deep breath before dropping his hands and shaking his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Saying the sky was green would’ve been less of a lie.

Theon clearly agrees, because his fingers are working deftly to remove his own clothing, dropping it to the floor carelessly until he’s left in his trousers. Robb swallows heavily, averting his eyes quickly, staring resolutely at the wall. A soft chuckle draws Robb’s attention and he glares pointedly at the other male and his gaze drops before he can help himself.

He doesn’t even realize he’s moving until there’s barely an inch of space between them and is reaching his hand out towards the inked skin within his line of sight. Blushing furiously, he drops his hand to his side and shakes his head.

And Theon, damn him, grabs Robb’s wrist and presses his hand to the skin.

Swallowing reflexively, he gives in and splays his hand over the skin, touching lightly, dragging his thumb along the edges of the ink, “Did it hurt?”

There’s pink high up on Theon’s cheekbones and he nods, quiet now with his eyes focused down on where Robb’s hand is on his skin.

Robb nods as well, even though Theon won’t see it, still tracing his thumb along what he can reach and dragging his eyes back to catch Theon’s, eyebrow lifted inquisitively. No words necessary as Theon turns partially until the rest of the ink skinned comes into his line of sight. He’s hit by the urge to press his lips to the skin, taste it even, find out if it just looks different or if it is different.

He moves his hand to Theon’s hip and gently presses him towards the bed, his other hand working to rid himself of at least one layer, feeling unbearably warm. Theon is still unusually quiet as he climbs onto the bed and Robb follows him, not breaking the silence as he waits for Theon to get comfortable on his belly, the expanse of inked skin open almost completely to Robb.

Sliding a hand over the skin, Robb starts tracing it once more with his finger slowly, his other hand curling around Theon’s lift side, his thumb rubbing in circles against skin. It’s then that he fully gives in and ducks down to press his lips to the skin, just pressing light kisses along the top curve of the krakken. Theon is still quietly, head turned to the left side where Robb is settled, breathing slowly out of his mouth.

Still learning the lines of the inked skin, he sucks a part of the marked flesh lightly before tracing his tongue along the curve of it and can’t even find it in himself to smirk at the hitch in Theon’s breath. He sits back some, still touching the skin lightly with his fingers, and moves his gaze up to Theon’s face.

Theon is watching him, eyes dark and pupils blown out wide, the black almost consuming the blue iris. Robb swallows heavily and ducks down before he can stop himself, pressing his lips to the corner of Theon’s, almost knocked off balance when Theon surges up to meet him. Sitting back on his heels, Robb lets himself be kissed senseless, all sharp teeth and wet tongue from Theon. The kiss breaks after what seems like ages and Theon’s lips are red and shiny, eyes half masted.

The urge to add his mark to Theon nearly sends him off the side of the bed, but he simply sways forward, placing feather light kisses along Theon’s neck until he reaches the curve where Theon’s neck meets his shoulder, sucking a kiss there and worrying it with his teeth until he’s certain there will be a mark and Theon’s hands are tangled in his hair, dragging him into another kiss. They break the kiss, breathing heavily and cheeks flushed and Robb lets Theon drag him towards the head of the bed until he’s sitting with his back against the headboard.

“Look at you,” Theon states softly and Robb finds himself gripping onto Theon’s hips tightly when the other male straddles him and almost immediately starts grinding down into his lap. He grips even tighter, intent on pressing bruises into Theon’s hips as well.

They end up kissing again, slower now though and less desperate, less teeth and more tongue. Robb feels like his brain is melting or something, pressing his hips up when Theon presses down. Theon is scraping his teeth along Robb’s neck when he slides his hand up from Theon’s hip, pressing it into the thicker part of the inked skin that he can see, eyes focused lower though, where there’s a red thumb shaped mark.

He shudders, groaning softly when he finally comes, sliding his hand between them to press against Theon, causing the other male to follow him over the edge with a groan of his own.

It’s more than a little uncomfortable, but Theon slumps forward against him, pressing lazy kisses to whatever skin he can reach and he figures he can deal with the discomfort for a little while longer.