Work Text:
“It’s strange, you know. No offense, mate, but you’re usually not my type.”
And this is usually not – not my place, for that matter, Theon would like to answer, but he can’t. He doesn’t know what is this, he doesn’t know how he went to sleep in Westeros with maimed fingers and gaps in his teeth and woke up in– in some kind of place named London, in a strange kind of house and wearing completely ridiculous clothes. Not to mention that the first time he looked out of the window he screamed. And that he’s looking the same way as he did before he even left for Pyke.
After – after a long time of mostly sitting on the bed and staring down at the ground, he had resolved to find out at least the surroundings. He had on himself some kind of strange papers saying that his name was still Theon Greyjoy, that he was born on September 8th, 1986 (1986 from what, he had thought, and the answer hadn’t convinced him that much when he found out about it, but he wishes it was his problem). He found out that he was apparently a secretary in a hospital, and he had no idea of what it was even about, but the next morning some kind of instinct had made him wake up at 7 AM. Then he had dressed, eaten from some kind of ice box that he couldn’t have imagined existing in his wildest dreams, walked out of the house, taken some kind of – of underground something that’s apparently called subway. It felt like going through motions without having an idea of why he was doing all of it. While screaming internally, he had gotten out at a stop and walked straight to a tall white building.
Apparently hospitals are places where sick people are treated. And maesters don’t exist anymore.
Some people whose names he apparently knew for some reason greeted him and told him that for having been there just three weeks he was doing great – well, he merely hoped that the going through the motions thing worked also for this supposed job he was having.
The biggest shock of the morning would have been realizing that he knew how to operate a computer.
But in truth, it was Robb walking in through the door a bit after he took service behind a desk in a hallway complaining about the night having been bloody fucking awful.
Theon had almost screamed right then, but he managed not to, and then the man walked in front of the desk while heading for the end of the hallway and Theon read what was written on a small card on his green jacket.
Ashley Greenwick.
So, not Robb.
But well, a fucking perfect match for him, at least in the looks department.
He had spent the next two days alternatively wanting to scream out loud at everything and trying to gather information about this Ashley without seeming as if he has bad intentions, but other than finding out that he apparently works during the night and that he gives first aid to sick people and possibly bring them over to the hospital, nothing else had happened.
Until, one morning, Ashley had walked up to his desk, looking slightly embarrassed but apparently not enough to stop asking whatever he had been wanting to ask.
“Listen, I know that it’s insane and I think we might have spoken once when we were introduced, but – I was wondering, would you – would you fancy going for a drink, one of those nights?”
Theon had even barely understood the question – going for a drink? – but he had found himself answering, very calmly, “Don’t you work during the nights?”
“Ah, yeah. But I have Saturday off.”
Theon had glanced at the calendar on the desk. Today’s apparently Thursday. Saturday is… two days from now. All right.
“All right. When?”
“Let’s say I come to your place at… nine PM?”
Theon had written down the address – going through the motions again – and handed it to him.
And that’s how he’s sitting next to Ashley, who still looks like Robb, drinking some ale that is apparently named Guinness, and trying not to let it show that he has no fucking clue of what’s going on here. Not to mention that in this world there are inns where – where apparently only men who only fuck men go, and that’s already enough to make Theon’s head spin – where he comes from, you don’t do this so openly.
“Uh, no offense,” Theon replies, taking a sip. “And what would your type be?”
“Well, usually taller. And bulkier. And darker. But I just – I spent almost a month walking in front of your desk and every time I felt this overwhelming need to just bloody ask you out.”
“Guess it was my lucky day then,” Theon replies, praying that he still remembers how to do this. Fine, he used to seduce women rather than men, but it can’t be that different, can it?
“And why would that be?”
“What if I tell you that you’re exactly my type?”
Ashley’s eyes turn a slightly darker blue as he takes a sip from his drink – some kind of amber thing whose name Theon hadn’t caught.
“Then I think there’s just one question I need to ask you.”
“Go on.”
“Do you top or bottom?”
Theon almost spits the drink.
What in the seven hells is that?
“Sorry?”
“I mean, are you exclusive in that sense?”
Top or bottom. Top or –
Well, obviously. He pretends to laugh. “Right, sorry. I just didn’t hear you at first. Well…” He trails for a moment. He has a feeling that if he answers wrong this entire thing won’t go anywhere. And it’s not like he relishes the idea of having someone on top of him – not that until a week ago he relished the thought of sex in the first place.
“I, uh, I’m not. Exclusive I mean. I’m fine with either. Though I guess I prefer… to top.”
Ashley looks extremely satisfied with that answer.
--
They’re kissing the moment the door slams behind them – they’re at Ashley’s place, which was apparently nearer, not that Theon is even thinking about the logistics. He hadn’t thought that the moment their lips met it’d turn out to be almost a clash, his tongue moving almost desperately against Ashley’s, his hands clutching at red curls while Ashley’s are digging into his shoulders, but he just can’t stop. It feels so fucking good that he doesn’t even stop himself from moaning into Ashley’s mouth as they still kiss and he stumbles backwards – towards the bedroom, he’d hope.
Fuck, but it’s been years for him since he last kissed someone and wanted it, never minding the whole part where this world is not Westeros, and – no, he’s not going to think about it, he’s not, not when they’re finally managed to land on the bed. He breaks the kiss, needing to take a breath and possibly to take some clothes off – he’s getting hard fast, and he’d like to be out of this excuse for tight breeches that is apparently what most people wear here.
Ashley seems to be on the same page – he takes off his coat and shirt while Theon kicks off his shoes and gets rid of the damned jeans and the underwear.
“I suppose you didn’t bring anything with you,” Ashley says.
“What?”
“Yeah, what I thought,” he says with a half-smile before he opens a drawer on the nightstand. Theon stares at his shirtless frame as he grabs something from there and throws him in his direction.
One is a small bottle full of – he has no idea what’s in there, but when there’s lube written on the label and they’re about to fuck, he can imagine the uses fast enough.
The rest – it’s some kind of packet and he frankly has no fucking idea, but then he looks at Ashley, who has taken another one. He rips the packet open and takes out something that – that he puts on his considerably noticeable erection, like some kind of glove.
Well, it obviously has some kind of use, and if that’s the way you fuck in this world, fine, he can adapt. He mirrors Ashley’s actions hoping that it doesn’t show that he’s never put this thing on before, but it goes as smoothly as it could go. The moment he’s done, Ashley’s kissing him again as he lies down on the bed – he supposes he can stop worrying about giving himself out. Gods but the man can kiss, and Theon can barely wrap his head about how he feels familiar because of the looks but not at the same time because it’s plain that he’s not Robb. (For one, Theon thinks, Robb wouldn’t have let him get on top as easily, but that’s not the point.)
“Fuck,” Ashley moans when Theon pushes his hips downwards as their cocks move against each other, giving the two of them some much needed friction.
“I hope it’s the good kind,” Theon answers.
“Stop teasing,” Ashley mutters before spreading his legs – Theon finds himself kneeling in between them and – right, yes, the bottle. He grabs it from the free side of the bed, opens it and pours some of the liquid inside on his fingers. It sure as the seven hells doesn’t feel like spit or oil, but maybe that’s the point. He takes a deep breath, hoping that nothing goes wrong now, and then cautiously pushes one finger inside Ashley, going as slow as he can manage – at least it’s not as tight as he had thought.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not a bloody glass doll – you can go faster,” Ashley breathes out a moment later.
Theon swallows and pushes in deeper, and then adds a second finger after coating it in whatever-that-thing-called-lube-is and Ashley moans louder, muttering yes and right there whenever he speaks intelligibly. And gods but Theon isn’t sure that he can wait much longer – he forces himself to wait and pushes a third finger in as he tries to ignore the sudden need he has to just use his cock instead, and when Ashley says that it’s good and that he can fucking move, he can’t wait anymore.
In a moment of… he doesn’t even know how to call it, maybe inspiration, whatever, he grabs the lube and empties the bottle in his hand. He coats his cock with it, figuring that the transparent thing around it isn’t exactly slick on its own, and then he moves downwards as Ashley’s hands reach up for his shoulders and Ashley’s calves go behind his back and – he can’t go slow anymore. He pushes inside with one deep thrust, his mouth slamming against Ashley’s, his entire body shuddering when he feels Ashley’s erection press against his stomach. And gods Ashley’s tight around him, and that lube works wonders because he’s never heard of this being so easy.
“Oh fuck, fuck, you can move, just do it,” Ashley moans when they break the kiss, and Theon doesn’t let him say it twice – he starts moving, slow at first, but then he realizes that Ashley’s not here for doing it slow and a short while later he’s moving faster and faster, fucking Ashley into the mattress mercilessly, watching his face as red hair gets plastered all over his forehead and his cheeks flush a deep, healthy pink. And – it feels good, better than he can ever remember sex being, and everything is warm and entirely not painful. Ashley’s hands are digging into his shoulders by now, and Theon is perfectly fine with that, it’s a kind of pain he can get behind. He feels so elated that when he realizes that he can’t last and that he’s going to come, it’s sudden – he doesn’t even feel it building, but when he shudders and comes with a strangled moan, Ashley follows suit muttering a strings of yes and fuck, and after that Theon just lets himself relish in the feeling and doesn’t think anymore.
When coherent thinking is an option again, he’s lying over Ashley, breathing hard, feeling sweat between them.
“Woah, I feel like a just ran a fucking marathon,” Ashley says, a little breathless – Theon has no idea of what he means but he thinks he understood the gist of it.
“Can’t argue with that,” Theon replies, forcing himself to roll over even if he likes having a warm body pressed against his. When he sees Ashley taking off that piece of something from his cock and throwing it somewhere on his side, Theon does the same – Ashley wordlessly takes it and gives it the same treatment. His pupils are blown, but you can definitely see how blue his eyes are and Theon isn’t sure that he wants to go home right now.
“You can stay then night, if you want,” Ashley says then, almost reading his mind.
“Could I? I really don’t feel like moving.”
“Yeah, sure. As long as you don’t tie me up and lock me in a cupboard.”
“What?”
“Long story,” Ashley replies before handing him a couple of tissues from the nightstand’s drawer. Theon wipes himself clean as much as he can, and when they get under the covers he isn’t really sure of the etiquette.
And then Ashley’s back presses up against his front.
“That’s so damn weird,” he says while Theon cautiously puts an arm around his side.
“What?”
“I never do this kind of thing either.”
“So what, that makes me special?”
“Who knows,” Ashley replies, but it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.
When he closes his eyes, Theon hopes against hope that he won’t wake up in Westeros.
--
He wakes up in Ashley’s bed as pale sunlight fills the room. Ashley’s not there, but Theon can smell food from somewhere out of the bedroom, so he forces himself to stand up, put on some clothes and get out of the door. He follows the smell of – coffee, right, coffee – and finds the kitchen.
“I can’t cook for shit,” Ashley says. “I was about to order in from the bar. Do you have any preference?”
“No, whatever you get is fine.” Better not giving himself out over the fact that other than what he had found in his own house he has no idea of what people eat for breakfast in here.
Ashley grabs a phone and makes a call that Theon doesn’t follow, and then he sits down at the table.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” he asks, direct to the point.
“It was,” Theon agrees, empathizing.
“Damn. This is so weird. I just – would you mind doing it again, sometime?”
“Understatement,” Theon replies without even attempting to hide how much he would like to do it again.
“Oh. Well then. It’s just – it’s so weird, I can count on one hand the number of people that I asked out twice.”
Theon can’t help it – he knows he’s grinning before he can stop himself, not that he has to now. “So what, I’m, in fact, that special?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Ashley answers, but it’s not a no, is it?
The doorbell rings and as Ashley goes to answer it. Theon has no idea of what happens now or how long is this going to last or why it’s even happening at all, but somehow it doesn’t really matter – he keeps on smiling thinking back about the night before. He didn’t remember how good it could feel.
End.