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"Usually, young ladies give their knights a favor before they joust." Brandon teased. His arm was curled around Willas Tyrell's waist. Holding him up as much as holding him against Brandon. He liked the way Willas fit right in his side. It wasn't that Willas was small , but instead that Brandon was huge and the perfect size to hold Willas right against him.
"But you are not a knight, and I am not a lady," Willas said; he pushed up on the floor with his good leg, leaning further into Brandon's space, up enough that he could kiss the side of Brandon's face. Brandon moved his hand just enough, just under Willas's hip, so he could pick the smaller boy upset him on the table holding most of Brandon's armor.
"No, a lady would never let her knight touch her like this, would she?" Brandon asked his big hands on the insides of Willas's legs. He smirked when Willas shivered, no smart remark at that. Brandon leaned down, biting lightly at Willas's neck. He wouldn't leave a mark, at least not one that would not fade quickly enough.
"I thought I had trained you better than that," Willas said, tugging at Brandon's hair. Brandon could almost feel himself blush at the noise from his mouth. "Good wolf." Willas' wide eyes gave away how unaffected he was.
Willas cupped the front of Brandon's breeches with a sly grin. "Maybe I will give you a favor before you joust."
Brandon felt his face go hot as his hips jerked forward. "Better hurry, don't want your brothers to see the wild wolf like this, hmm?" Willas asked as Brandon started his hips forward again.
"Willas, I can't-" Brandon whined, though he didn't stop the snap of his hips against Willas's hand.
"Oh, I think you will; jousting with two lances is quite against the rules," Brandon whined, leaning forward, his hands on the table on either side of Willas, his face in the boy's neck, hips rutting against Willas's hand.
With Willlas's help and clever hand movements, Brandon spilled into his breaches. "Good wolf," Willas whispered as Brandon panted into Willas's neck. He left kisses down Willas's neck, hands moving up Willas's back.
"Definitely not a lady," Brandon said, his eyes falling to where Willas's legs were spread. He didn't have time to reach for Willas before the boy was pulling his hair.
"I guess I've not trained you as well as I thought. Go wash your face. Your brothers will be here soon to help you dress." Brandon thought about helping Willas down, but the boy would have said something if he wanted off the table. Besides, it was the only place to sit in the whole tent. His cane was in reach if he really wanted to get down. Brandon had seen Willas do more elaborate things than get off a table alone.
Brandon had enough time to wash his face and situate himself almost comfortably in his breeches before his youngest brother came in, his sister hot on his heels.
"I still think he's weird," Benjen said, which earned him a shove from Lyanna.
"He's nice, and Ned likes him." Lyanna hopped up on the table next to Willas; Brandon had to turn around and take a breath. How Willas could sit there as if he hadn't just made Bradon spill in the breeches Brandon still wore, he didn't know.
"How are you, Willas? I know Brandon is your father's ward, but that doesn't mean you have to pretend to be his friend." Brandon turned around, ready to tease his little sister when the tent flap was opened again.
"Brandon!" The shout was none other than Robert Baratheon. The boy looked at where Lyanna and Willas were talking and scowled. Bradon could almost roll his eyes; Robert had no idea how little he had to worry. "I hear people are putting money on you over Oswell Whent."
Brandon heard his middle brother scoff; whether Ned was scoffing at the idea of Brandon being favored over a member of the king's guard or the disarray of Brandon's armor, he wasn't sure.
"Howland!" Lyanna shouted over her betrothed's voice, "come meet Willas Tyrell. His father, Mace Tyrell, is fostering Brandon." Brandon looked over at Willas, who looked perfectly content with what was happening. As if what had happened earlier was just as normal as this. As if a Stark-infested tent didn't bother him, Brandon's siblings talking over each other, jostling each other.
"Benjen come on, Brandon's gonna be late." Brandon rolled his eyes but moved as Ned directed him.
It didn't take long for the two brothers to have Brandon tucked away in his armor, a wolf's head helm under his armor. He could hear his horse wicker just outside. Once Ned had checked every strap and buckle, despite Brandon's protests, the group moved to leave. Each giving Brandon good luck, Lyanna tied a soft handkerchief to one of his lances; the cloth had been embroidered with a wolf, though Brandon doubted it was her who had done the embroidering. The wolf was too easily recognizable as a wolf. Her wolves always seemed to look like someone spilled grey ink.
Finally, Brandon and Willas were alone again. They didn't have much time, though. Brandon might be late if they lingered too long.
"Do you want a real favor?" Willas asked. The domineering boy from earlier was gone. In his pace was the shy boy of High Garden Brandon had met when he'd first moved south.
Bradon moved his hips just enough and shook his head. His breeches were past sticky now, dry and caked together. Getting them off would be hell, but he'd think about Willas the whole time.
"No, yours was perfect; I'll carry it with me all day." Willas smiled at that, reaching out, pulling Brandon's helm from under his arm and shoving at his shoulder. With Bradon on his knees, he was shorter than Willas, still sitting on the table. Short enough that Willas could push Brandon's hair out of his face.
"Next time, I'll braid your hair for you," Willas whispered before he put the helm on Brandon's head, the visor still up.
Brandon pushed himself up to standing, he held a hand out, ready to pick Willas up off the table to help him down, but the boy shook his head.
"You've got too many moving parts now. I don't want to get stuck," Willas said, reaching for his cane and slipping down from the table.
“Brandon, come on!” It was Ben, shouting from just outside the tent.
"Go, my Wolf," Willas whispered, a hand on the middle of Brandon's chest. He limped out of the tent, a smile on his face.
Brandon took a deep breath, following Willas.
"Finally, you're going to be late. If you forfeit, father will be angry, and you don't even live with him anymore." Ben complained. Brandon sighed, ruffling Ben's hair taking his horse's lead from his youngest brother.
"Then I best not be late, huh?" Brandon Watched as Willas disappeared into the crowd, he'd look for the boy when it was his turn, and if he won the tournament, maybe he'd crown the boy queen of love and beauty. Even the king would know then.