“Did you,” Ren said, “think about me? During.” Martyn hesitated, before answering. The truth was arguably worse than any of the pretty lies he could come up with, but Ren was rarely fooled by pretty things, and Martyn hated lying to him anyway. He said, “I tried very hard not to.”
“Hm.”
“Because it would be too much. If I—if I had to deal with your memory. I mean—” He huffed. “I won wearing your banner. I won in your honour. Of course I was thinking about you. How could I do anything else?”
Ren was smiling at him, cheeks pink, teeth showing. “I know.”
“But no, my liege,” Martyn said, not without humour, “I didn’t think about you while I was fucking someone else.”
“You should’ve.”
“I’ll just go off and do that now, then, shall I?”
“No,” Ren said, immediately. He grabbed Martyn’s shoulders and pulled him closer until Martyn was lying more securely on his chest. It was one of Ren’s favourite ways to hold him, Martyn knew; and it wasn’t as though Martyn would complain about it, either the being held or the manhandling. “Not again. Never again. Stay here.”
Martyn flashed his teeth up at him. “With you? My lord, I’d never dream of going anywhere else.”
Ren made a pleased noise. For a long while they didn’t speak. Martyn focused on the slow, steady pressure of Ren’s hand caressing along his spine, his other hand playing with Martyn’s hair, combing his fingers through it.
“I hated thinking you’d have to watch,” Martyn said, eventually. In truth there hadn’t been a moment he hadn’t hated, if he slowed down for longer than a second and let his brain catch up to his hands and the weapons in them. “Not just. That.”
“I loved watching you win,” said Ren. “Hated seeing you in pain.”
Martyn made a noise before he could stop himself, a sort of half laugh and half sob. “Yeah.”
“Because you were, weren’t you,” Ren said, soft. “No one else could see it, but you were hurting, yeah?”
“I dunno,” Martyn said. “I think Scott probably knew.”
“He doesn’t matter.”
“Okay.”
He had immediately regretted using the name. But Martyn wanted to make sure they were still talking about the same haunting, here.
“Martyn. Martyn,” Ren said. He was holding Martyn’s face in his hands again, thumb brushing across his cheekbones. Keeping him there. “I loved seeing you win. But I’d not have you suffer another moment. You’re mine only. You hear me? No more of this.”
“I don’t know how much you were watching,” Martyn said, because it was easier to deflect. If he’d had his way he wouldn’t have let Ren see any of it, but of course he never had control over that sort of thing. “What we—did.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah. Yeah, like that.”
Ren’s expression would have looked neutral to most people, but Martyn knew his tells. His jaw was tight. “I saw enough.”
Martyn said, trying to make it a joke, “So you saw when he held me underwater so he could—”
“Did he ever do anything for you?” Ren said, abruptly.
Martyn froze. Ren made a jerky, aborted movement, like he’d wanted to reach for him and then forcibly stopped himself. Martyn of course wished he hadn’t. But it was more about Ren’s comfort here.
“Scott did plenty of things for me,” Martyn said, slowly. “He’s—we’re friends.”
“I don’t know if he did,” said Ren, louder. He was getting angry. “Because from where I was standing, it looked a whole lot like he used you.”
“Well, you know I like to be used.”
“Not like that,” Ren said. “Don’t try to fool me like that.”
“Okay,” Martyn managed to choke out.
Ren held him for another long moment, without saying anything. As though he thought Martyn would try to slip away from him. As though Martyn could bring himself to do anything like that ever again.
“It really wasn’t that bad,” Martyn said, muffled into the front of Ren’s shirt. He thought Ren might say he was just making it all worse, but Ren didn’t say anything. “Not all the time. I mean. Sometimes it’s just easier. To fuck the people you’re allied with.”
“Done this before, have you,” Ren said, neutrally.
Martyn burrowed further into Ren’s chest. “Not since you.”
Which was demonstrably a lie. But Ren didn’t call him on it.
“I didn’t regret it,” Martyn told him. “I mean, I don’t.”
“What?”
“Betraying Scott.” But of course it wasn’t really a betrayal if Scott had known all along that it would happen, was it? “Killing him. Winning. All that.”
Ren didn’t say anything. Martyn said, “I’d have done it to anyone. Scott wasn’t special.” That got a reaction—Ren’s arms tightening around Martyn’s chest—as he’d expected. Martyn added, goading, “I’d have fucked anyone, for time or shelter, you know. I’m a wildcard, haven’t you heard? I’m a loose cannon. I can’t be trusted.”
“That’s not the impression I’ve had.”
“Oh yeah?” Martyn tilted his chin up so he could look into Ren’s dark eyes. Ren’s eyes said that he knew plainly what game Martyn was playing, and would indulge him as long as he remembered it was just a game. Martyn said, “Go on, then, my liege. Educate me. What sort of man am I, then?”
“Loyal,” Ren said, immediately. His arms held Martyn in place against his chest. “Brave. Strong—stronger than you know.”
“Flatterer,” said Martyn. He could feel his face heat.
“Beautiful,” Ren added. He pressed a kiss to Martyn’s brow. “Determined. Righteous.”
“Come on, now.”
Ren’s mouth was against his ear now. He murmured, “Most importantly. Mine.”
(Technically takes place in this universe, but can be read as a standalone.)