Subtly Unsubtle - Alfred/(M)Eivor
Joking Alfred one-time romance option. T+
Alfred asks (M!) Eivor about his lack of sublty.
spoilers below if you haven’t finished the game.
When Alfred handed Eivor the last medallion, it probably should have been the end of it. For the temporary future anyway.
Eivor had been against Alfred for some time now, and he’d come to know that there was more to come with the other man. Humbled, or brought down as he was, it was only a matter of time before he rose again. It was hard to think that not that long ago, he’d had gutted Alfred himself. Now, he felt rather amused in his presence. Man to man, without armor and blades between them, so to speak.
Eivor wanted to turn away. He should be ready to go home, to rest, for once, handing Hytham that last piece of their puzzle, but he found himself lingering. And, it would seem, Alfred had felt the same way.
Chastened by his mishap with the cakes, he’d been delegated to the side as the woman prepared the dough again. He stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes shifting towards Eivor. He held Eivor’s image, his bastard brain definitely thinking. Alfred was smart, that much Eivor would give him.
Wryly Eivor couldn’t help thinking, Nothing is more dangerous than a bastard that thinks.
Eivor crossed his arms in turn, returning the gaze. “What?”
Alfred let a shadow of a smirk flash across his face.
“You told me once you had no subtle gods. It has been a wonder to me how, then, how you have come to sneak around England and announce yourself so loudly at the same time?”
He glanced down at his hand, studying his nails. “Surely your gods cannot approve of your skulking.”
“You don’t know much about our gods then. We have sneaky gods, too.” A brief flash of Basim came to mind. A rip that came to Eivor’s chest that made it ache and regret. Eivor’s next words felt bitter in his mouth.
“I’m sure he would find pleasure in my endeavors.” Having orchestrated half of them, anyway.
But Alfred didn’t need to know that. Sigurd and he endured enough of that knowledge alone. Seeketh knowledge, seeketh sorrow, or so Basim had once quoted from the Christian books.
“But I suppose, even our most subtle gods find no pleasure in staying in the shadows,” Eivor eventually conceded.
Alfred hummed, eyes focusing everywhere but Eivor. He watched the woman kneading the dough, and a silence settled between them. Eivor again felt that he should leave, that now their business was surely done. He remained. Still, somehow tethered to watching Alfred, to piecing his train of thought out into the open.
Alfred addressed him again, as if thinking out loud, though his words were pointed and clear.
“I wonder, then, if you are subtle at all in other things?”
Then he fixed Eivor with a look, his eyes like smoldering coals. His face was mostly guarded, but the heat of it was known. The pieces lined up a second too long, until Eivor was raising his eyebrows. A vicious grin split across his face. Alfred’s gaze didn’t waver, but he did tilt his chin up, the ghost of his smirk returning.
“It seems you are not ruled by a subtle God either,” Eivor teased.
“God’s miracles are rarely subtle, I find,” Alfred simply said, turning towards a shack. He threw a look over his shoulder; Eivor felt his feet move before he realized.
Eivor caught up by the time Alfred reached the threshold. He crowded up against the man, grinning when he seemed to grunt in indignation, but he didn’t push away Eivor’s wandering hands. The door, or what could be called as such, shut behind them. A flurry of rough bristled kisses met Alfred’s neck. Eivor’s whole body ushered him towards the straw cot, tugging unsuccessfully at Alfred’s clothes.
Pious patience finally snapping, Alfred huffed in annoyance and pushed Eivor away. He turned, and drew Eivor in by his braids. They kissed, hungry and noisy. Thin and frail as he may have seemed, Eivor felt Alfred dictate their movements. He guided Eivor where he wanted, controlling the speed and ferocity of their kiss.
He let Eivor move against him, greedily meeting him each time. But if Eivor pushed too much, tried to maneuver him, Alfred evaded. He took the split second of confusion that would overcome Eivor to initiate the kiss again. Eivor felt himself falling, strangely caught off guard. He dropped heavily onto the straw cot.
When he looked up, Alfred was looming over him, chin tilted into the streaming sunlight from the window. He was an immovable pillar, a stone daring to be challenged. Eivor felt himself shiver with want, hot and roiling deep in his gut. He spread his legs, sending Alfred a lopsided smile.
“Won’t you sit, Lord?” Eivor cheekily asked. He glanced down at his lap, at the stirring in his trousers. “I have a throne for you.”
Alfred looked as if he wanted to be cross. Then he huffed and rolled his eyes. He yanked at the length of his long tunic, bunching it up above his knees. He plopped down on Eivor, legs framing Eivor’s hips. For a man flushed with ardor, he still sat unfairly regal on Eivor as if he was seconds away from devouring him again.
“And will you serve?” Alfred quipped back.
Eivor shrugged. “Have I not already?” Unintentionally, anyway. “Was it subtle enough for you?”
“No,” Alfred said. He fingered Eivor’s braids again, twirling it around his finger until it was tight enough that he could yank and pull Eivor towards him. Alfred lidded his eyes. Eivor could feel the ghost of a kiss pass between them. He was impatient for the touch. Alfred sent him a leery grin, “It was not.”
He licked into Eivor’s mouth and let himself be pushed down into the straw, willing and eager under Eivor’s hands.
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AN: TLK brain, so tiny TLK Alfred reference lmao. ranting to friend about how i wish we got an alfred romance option, but only bc i think it would be funny af.
lit inspired by this whole scene:
