Nathaniel barged into his bedchamber, frustrated after another annoying afternoon of training new Warden archers, and was surprised to find a servant cleaning the room for him.
“Excuse me,” he said, suddenly aware of his intrusion and how it must have startled the poor woman. She was turned away from him and facing the window, the sunlight glinting through the lace edging of her dress and sending shadows cascading across the floor.
“No trouble,” said a very familiar voice that made Nathaniel’s heart jump.
The woman turned, and no, it was no woman despite the black and white maid’s dress and the heeled shoes and long blonde hair. It was Anders.
The memory hit Nathaniel like one of Herren’s shipments of ore.
“Shouldn’t we have servants to do this sort of thing?” Anders had said as he bent over to scrub mud and darkspawn gore off the floor of Nathaniel’s room where they had so hastily discarded their armor the night before.
“We barely have a cook, much less cleaners,” Nathaniel had replied, walking up behind Anders and taking hold of his hips. “Besides, even if we did, I’d send them away so I could see you bent over like this.”
“Aha, you’re a domestic type.” Anders wiggled his arse teasingly at Nathaniel. “I knew it. Fantasies about being so dirty.”
“Almost,” Nathaniel responded, lifting up the hem of Anders’s robe.
“Are you trying to upskirt me?” Anders looked back over his shoulder, his hair falling out of its tie just enough to make Nathaniel want to touch it.
“No, because these are robes, as you’ve been so quick to point out.” Nathaniel reached his hand around front to gently stroke the front of Anders’s breeches, tantalizingly close to where his cock was obviously hardening.
Anders turned under Nathaniel’s hands until he was facing him. He put his arms around Nathaniel, grabbing his buttocks firmly. “Then what’s this fantasy that I’ve almost discovered?”
Nathaniel did his best to not blush. “Oh, when I was a young man, we had this servant who cleaned my chambers, and she always did her level best to seduce me. She wore the shortest dresses when she thought I would be around, thinking that might convince me. She had no idea – I would think about it often, just taking her and bending her over the bed, giving her exactly what she wanted.”
“Why didn’t you?” Anders asked, pulling Nathaniel close so their bodies pressed up against each other.
“My father figured she was trying to get a bastard out of me,” Nathaniel replied with a wry grin. “I should have done it anyway. I still think about it.”
Anders had very nearly cackled with glee at this revelation. “Well, you can bend me over the bed and have your way with me, Messere Howe,” he had teased, and then Nathaniel had done just that.
“Anders,” Nathaniel said, pulling himself out of his reverie. “What are you doing?”
“Indulging you,” Anders replied, and then bent over in a most immodest fashion. The hem of his dress lifted as he did so, revealing the lace lining underneath that barely covered the his arse -- which was being displayed prominently enough to reveal that it was covered only by semi-transparent white frilly panties.
Tall stockings up to the man’s knees and black high heels the kind that women wore to formal parties.
A bonnet. Where did he even get such a costume?
“Like the view?” Anders purred.
“Don’t bother answering that, by the way; I can clearly see that you do.” Anders stood up straight and Maker, Nathaniel couldn’t fight his reaction to that. He felt a tightening in his stomach and breeches, and the view of Anders crossing the room in those shoes (clunk clunk clunk) and with that lace just barely blocking the view of his arse and his cock…
As Anders came closer to him, Nathaniel reached forward and grabbed him by one hip – the satin material of the skirt was a familiar yet strange feeling on his hands, especially when combined with Anders’s familiar face. “Where did you even get this thing?” he asked, surprised to hear the huskiness in his own voice.
Anders fluttered his eyelashes in an oddly feminine way. “It’s a secret,” he replied. “I thought you’d like it.”
Nathaniel waged a war between his preconceptions and his current desire. Men who wore women’s clothing – particularly such revealing women’s clothing – were usually found at strange and distasteful brothels. But here was Anders – his Anders, with whom he shared a productive and rewarding sexual relationship – in a safe place, displaying this just for him to indulge a life-long fantasy that Nathaniel had never particularly gotten to act on. And this time, there was no chance of risking his father’s ire, or of siring a problematic bastard.
Nathaniel forgot his reservations the moment that Anders leaned against him, pressing a hard kiss right on his mouth, and Nathaniel saw and felt Anders’s erection which was quite prominent through the flimsy satin and lace. He grabbed Anders around his lace-covered arse and lifted him up; Anders responded with a squeak and put his arms around Nathaniel’s shoulders and neck as he wrapped his legs around Nathaniel’s waist. Nathaniel carried him across the room and deposited him on the still-unmade bed, after which Anders’s hand found the back of Nathaniel’s head and pulled him down into an intense kiss. Nathaniel’s own hands found his belt and unbuckled it, dropping it and his breeches and his smallclothes to the ground behind him. Once free of this, Anders lifted Nathaniel’s tunic off over his head, and Nathaniel crawled forward on the bed, spreading Anders’s legs apart as he did so.
Nathaniel teasingly lifted the skirt and Anders whimpered, pressing his hips against Nathaniel, his body hot with arousal. The lace panties were barely holding together around Anders’s erection, and with a simple tug they came apart at the seams. The two pieces of fabric fell away to the bed, leaving Anders exposed.
“I wonder,” Nathaniel said, wrapping one hand around Anders’s cock and sliding the other under his arse, “if this costume wasn’t just for me.”
“Of course it was for me,” Anders replied, his voice breathy as he arched up into Nathaniel’s touch. “You’d look ridiculous in this. All that facial hair, pfft.”
“You just seem rather aroused,” Nathaniel said, gently massaging the very tip of Anders’s cock, his fingers growing slick with precome.
Anders grinned and moaned softly, barely able to utter his comeback between moans. “Well, when someone bursts in on me and throws me to the bed, I just anticipate being ravished.”
“Ravished,” Nathaniel repeated, drawing his slick fingers down to Anders’s opening.
“Thoroughly,” Anders added. He exhaled a moan and pushed back against Nathaniel’s hand.
“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” Nathaniel teased, pressing his fingertip inside of Anders slowly. Anders’s hands clenched into fists, gripping the blanket on the bed.
“I was actually possibly fantasizing about it, yes,” Anders admitted, inhaling sharply as Nathaniel ran his free hand along Anders’s cock again. “It’s not fair for you to get to do all the fantasizing about this scenario.”
“Then I assume you’re prepared,” Nathaniel said, drawing his finger out.
“Are you kidding?” Anders reached inside the bodice of his dress and produced a small vial. “Here you go.”
Nathaniel chuckled lightly as he accepted the vial. Of course Anders would be prepared – he always was. Nathaniel unscrewed the lid and spread the contents on his fingers and then on his own cock. The warm slickness on his skin – the vial was warm from being so close to Anders’s skin – tingled pleasantly, and with the excess on his fingers he gently probed again at Anders’s opening. He easily slid one finger inside, prompting a whimper that sent a shiver down Nathaniel’s spine.
He withdrew one finger and then inserted two, then three, inducing a crescendo of moans from Anders. The way he writhed on the bed, whimpering and moaning for more more and the satin of his skirt sliding around and making silky noises on the bed – Nathaniel couldn’t take it. He withdrew his hand entirely and put his hands on Anders’s hips and instructed him, “Turn around.”
Anders opened his eyes and grinned. “Yes messere,” he teased, rolling over and getting to his hands and knees.
Nathaniel didn’t wait. He stood up and took Anders by the hips and pulled him to the edge of the bed, then flipped up the skirt and pushed Anders’s legs aside so that he was straddling Nathaniel. He moved his right hand to his own cock, still slick with lubrication, and pressed himself up against Anders. Anders, of course, writhed with anticipation which sent the skirt falling in awkward directions, brushing up tauntingly against Nathaniel’s cock, and Nathaniel had to grip his hip tightly to get him to stop moving.
Anders did so. Nathaniel saw him clench the blanket and drop his head, pushing his arse up into the air to make it easier for Nathaniel to find the right spot and gently push. Anders cried out the familiar sound that was a mixture of intense pleasure and mild pain, and Nathaniel stilled to let him relax; after a moment of quick breathing, Anders pushed back against him, the lace lining of the skirt tumbling to drape over his exposed skin. This time, Nathaniel didn’t bother to move it -- he pushed himself farther inside of Anders and enjoyed the loud moan of pleasure the man produced for him.
Nathaniel moved his hands to Anders’s hips and rocked his body backward, then forward. Anders moved with him, slowly at first, but soon enough he was whispering harder, more, please. Nathaniel was happy to oblige, guiding Anders’s hips and pushing and pulling his own body against the other’s to find the right rhythm. They stopped and started, Anders calling for a moment to rest and adjust or Nathaniel pausing to pull Anders back towards the edge of the bed.
Anders’s costume bonnet fell to the floor, and the dress fell askew to display his shoulder. Nathaniel kept one hand on Anders’s hip (still half clenched in the satin and lace of the skirt) and leaned forward to grab that bare shoulder; Anders arched his back into the touch and moaned, pushing back against Nathaniel. Nathaniel held him steady in that position and thrust into him with vigor, over and over and over again, free-falling in the tactile pleasures of cloth and lace and skin and the sound of Anders’s voice and quickening breath.
Nathaniel found himself moving faster and faster, their rhythm becoming frenzied; Anders shifted and moved his hand down to stroke his own cock and Nathaniel could hear the sound of skin on skin amidst the swooshing of the satin and the smacking of their bodies against each other and the mingled noises of Anders’s moans and his own grunts that came from somewhere deep in his throat. Anders shouted suddenly and his body unclenched and that did Nathaniel in – he felt his muscles uncoil as he pushed deep inside of Anders, releasing in two, three, four final thrusts.
They stayed together for a long moment, their breaths coming in unison, until Anders’s body slumped with exhaustion underneath him. Nathaniel removed himself from the other as gently as he could, but Anders still exhaled with disappointment when Nathaniel’s cock came free. Nathaniel, in turn, collapsed onto the bed beside Anders, who rolled over and put his head in the crook of Nathaniel’s shoulder.
He was still wearing the dress, and the stockings.
Nathaniel had to smile. “Thanks,” he whispered, kissing Anders on the top of his head.
“Don’t mention it,” Anders replied, then paused. “Actually, do mention it, just not to anybody but me and your secret fantasies.” He draped his arm across Nathaniel’s chest, snuggling in, and whispered, “Too bad you destroyed those panties. I was going to wear them on our next excursion just to distract you.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes and sighed. Anders.