Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hubert is not one to seethe. He will not groan, he will not howl, he will not yell. In the mage's opinion, displaying such emotions is counterproductive at best and dangerous at worst. One wrong move, one mistake, and everything he and Lady Edelgard are working for will crumble in an instant. That is why, even though Hubert refuses to display such base emotions as anger, with Ferdinand? Well, he comes awfully close.

Hubert clutches his pants pocket, or, more specifically, the piece of fabric within that pants pocket. The heir of House Vestra feels his mouth curl up in a small but sinister smirk. Never does he typically engage in this behavior either, but the ginger-headed fool pushes him to these lows. Such pranks are, in so few words, beneath Hubert. Claude and ilk like him have no issues pulling such childish gambits, and it isn't entirely uncommon to see young men here at the monastery falling victim to pranks. Even just that previous week had seen the likes of Felix, Sylvain, and Ashe streaking across campus after their clothes were stolen in the shower rooms of the training grounds. What Hubert is doing is similar, though with several improvements. Ferdinad, after all, needs encouragement to stay out of the future Emperor's way, and if that means humiliation so severe Ferdinand will never show his face around the Monastery again… 

Hubert chuckles quietly as he enters the shower room. He can hear the beating of water droplets hitting the marble floors, as well as the sound of insufferable humming bouncing off the walls. Ferdinand is notorious for his long showers after training, primping and prissing more than even Dorothea. Holding back the urge to spit on such wasteful vanity, Hubert sets to work, going to the locker housing the clothes of the son of House Aegir. With a snap pf his fingers, the dial on the lock turns back and forth, unlocking itself after a short time and falling right into Hubert's gloved palm. Setting the lock aside for now, he reaches into the locker, lifting the folded clothes until he comes upon the set of crisp, white briefs. He stuffs those in his empty pocket, and finally takes out the replacement sitting in his pocket, letting only a flash of colorful fabric hit the air before he tosses it in and relocks the locker. Taking one last glance back to the shower area, still hearing the pattering of droplets, Hubert takes his leave, letting out one last nefarious chuckle.

Now, all that's left to do is wait outside, out of sight.

~*~

Ferdinand's face flushes bright red, holding up the garment, stretching it's waistband between the index fingers of both hands. The offending underwear, if such a mockery of undergarments could even be called that, is most assuredly not the plain, white briefs he typically wears. It doesn't take a genius to come to the conclusion that this is a prank. However, Ferdinad wonders, whatever is their aim? They'd left the rest of his outfit, and closer inspection reveals no tampering has occurred with it. Perhaps they left in a hurry? But if that's the case, why risk locking the locker back up again.

The noble sits and ponders, only to feel the cool draft against his sizably plump ass, which is completely nude. Ferdinand resumes his blush, now recalling that anyone can walk in and see his naked form. Not that such a thing is strange in a shower room, but the training showers are communal, alternating men's and women's bathing times every two hours. With his long showering time, he's already pushing it, so he resolves it's best not to linger. The untold mortification at being seen like this, especially by any ladies of the academy… It sends a shock of electricity through Ferdinand. It makes him warm all over his body, blush spreading to his neck, and blood flowing to his… 

The son of Duke Aegir quickly shakes his head. There will be absolutely none of that, at least not now. He examines the new underwear once again, sighing at the sight. The garment is bright blue, a regal color in any other context, but quite garish when contrasted with the pale, freckled skin on Ferdinand's rump. The waistband, in contrast, is stark white, as well as the piping along the pouch. Now, aside from the color, it isn't so bad, however this piece of clothing had the audacity not only to be at least two sizes too small, but patterned as well. Little white pegasi and clouds flit across the miniscule covering, making it look unnecessarily childish. Ferdinand is certain even somebody like Cyril, five years his younger, wouldn't be wearing something like this. Still, it's this or go without… 

"It's only until you get back to your room… " Ferdinand reassures himself, then slips his new smallclothes on. The task is a little laborious, the noble struggling rather indecently to pull the underpants past his pale cheeks, but he manages… eventually.

It's at this point, as he bends down to pick up and put on his pants, that Ferdinand realizes another issue. The tight and tiny fabric rides up, giving him an instantly irritating natural wedgie. He reaches back to pick the underwear out from between his cheeks, but even a slight bit of movement and his round rump is swallowing the briefs up once more. He huffs. As if there couldn't be even more annoyances. A noble like him won't be seen picking a wedgie, not by anyone. He'll simply move quickly and endure.

Once re-clothed, Ferdinand steels himself. It's possible the prankster is looking to pants him on his walk back to the dorms, so the noble knows he must keep his gaurd up. Eyes always forward, never getting distracted from keeping pace; that's surely the strategy to avoid humiliation. And, with luck, the treck to the dorms reserved for nobility will be quick and uninterrupted.

"Just out these doors, past the classrooms, up the second floor stairs, and then finally through the halls. I must simply endure this wedgie through that." Ferdinand gathers his confidence, then swings open the doors. "Hardly anything can go wrong!" 

It's as Ferdinand speaks this into being that he passes the threshold of the locker room. And that's when things unravel- literally. A spell is triggered as the ginger walks through, the seams of his outer uniform coming completely undone. The man doesn't notice, take a prideful stride right out of his clothes, leaving naught but his skimpy skivvies, socks, garters, and uniform shoes.

"Ugh, it figures the breeze would pick up," Ferdinand mumbles, the draft on his body instantly apparent. Still, he doesn't look down, doesn't notice his lack of clothing. He does as his plan entails, keeping his eyes fixed forward and his gaze unwavering.

Ferdinand moves with conviction, one foot in front of the other, passing by other students as he does. He casts a glance to them, not realizing the looks of shock and amusement on their faces as he moves along the path, each step highlight the bounce in his thighs and ass. Ferdinand even greets them as he passes, giving a jovial smile.

"It's a lovely day!" he even says to one.

"With a sight like this, absolutely," the young woman replies, watching Ferdinand's butt jiggle as he walks away.

"Greetings! Nice weather, but nothing like in the Aegir territory," he boasts to a gentleman he passes.

"I assumed you might find it a bit drafty," the young man replies. 

It's when Ferdinand passes by the classrooms that he starts to realize something is amiss. The courtyard outside the classrooms is, naturally, packed to the gills with students, and each one goes quiet at the sight of Ferdinand rounding the corner. Its at this strange quiet that a small, nervous pit opens in Ferdinand's stomach. He gulps, even seeing some students from his own class in the mix. Dorothea and Caspar and Hubert are all sat on a bench, Hubert dawning a sadistically evil grin, while Caspar and Dorothea suddenly erupt in laughter, the rest of the students following suit.

"Nice briefs! I haven't seen anybody wear those since we were knee high!"

"Such a silly pattern… Is the son of House Aegir trying to tell us something? Hahaha!"

"Based on the bulge in the front, I don't think any kind of equine suits him!"

Ferdinand, feeling heat rising to the tips of his ears, casts a shameful look down to himself, slowly as if to delay the inevitable. He lets out a girlish scream as he realizes what the crowd, and every student he's passed, knows; that he, Ferdinand von Aegir, is in his underwear. In public. Wearing extra small briefs, patterned with juvenile pegasi. For a few minutes, Ferdinand just sits in the humiliation, blush climbing to his chest as the laughter rounds. His limbs are locked, too embarrassed to even do anything, but he finally comes to his senses, covering his crotch with one hand and his freckled chest with the other. 

"N-Now see here, t-this is all a simple misunderstanding! I-I assure you, I don't wear these… these undergarments very often." He laughs, nervously, hoping playing this all off might lessen the stares and the laughter and the pointing, but the students are entirely undeterred. It makes sense, most everyone there has some story of Ferdinand's particular brand of snobbishness, such that not many there would be willing to offer even a little sympathy.

"This is truly the legacy an Aegir should leave behind."

"Emphasis on behind ! His rear is massive!"

"Maybe that's why he's wearing horse undies? He has breeding haunches!"

As the comments pile in more and more, Ferdinand finally comes to the conclusion that nobody here, least of all Dorothea or Hubert, is gonna save him now, and Caspar is too busy teared up with laughter to move. Resolving to make a break for it, Ferdinand readies his nerves, them begins a mad dash into the halls and away from the open air. One hand is locked onto his groin, another attempting to desperately hide his round rump as it retreats up the steps into the dorms. Every single student he passes, without fail, laughs at his misfortune, and some occasionally reach out to smack his ass or tug on the back of his waistband. He cursed his hand, the limb he placed there doing barely anything to make his skimpy skivvies or bouncing backside less of a target.

Bursting into his room, Ferdinand slams the door behind him, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks at himself in the mirror, only feeling more mortified once he realizes he's hard as a rock in the confines of his underwear. He slides down the back of his door, landing on the floor with his legs spread open so he can examine himself. The situation is going to be the buzz of everyone in the academy, that much is clear and obvious. Ferdinand knows he'll have to keep a low profile until this blows over, likely with another guy experiencing something equally humiliating. Then, once he can show his face, he'll go about getting swift and merciless revenge on whoever did this… 

He reaches between his legs, palming at his groin and moaning. Firstly, however, he needs to take care of this issue, the one good thing to come out of this.

Chapter Text

The harsh Brodian winds whip through strands of golden hair, the retainer to Prince Diamant gripping his left hand tightly onto the reins of his horse. The duo of rider and mount dash past shrubbery, rock formations, trees, and leap over the occasional dilapidated fence. Amber holds his lance firmly in his right hand, making slashes and jabs at imaginary enemies, rehearsing his movements to look as suave, sleek, and, most importantly, heroic as possible. A quick jab through the torso of a Corrupted myrmidon, a blunt bash with his hilt against an oncoming barbarian, and finishing with a headlong rush right into the Fell Dragon himself. The onlookers cheer, screaming his name as he single-handedly takes down the fell army and secures his place as a hero among heroes! Amber puffs out his chest, raising his weapon proudly into the air, gazing out into the crowd.

“No need to fear, citizens of Elyos, for the great and glorious Amber has saved you from the evils of the Corrupted, along with their dark master, The Fell Dragon!” Amber places the hand not clutching onto his lance onto his hip. “Oh, what’s that, Divine One? You wish to profess your undying love for a mere mortal like me? And, Prince Diamant? You wish to help me and the Divine Dragon have the most spectacular Brodian wedding the land has ever seen? Why, that sounds lovely! I’ll head back to the farm and get my alpacas into to their fanciest top hats and-”

The knight’s fantasy halts, images of his heroic exploits falling away like vapor as he enters back into reality. Back atop the plateau he uses for training, he sees a pile of rocks. Originally set up for javelin training, now that he’s several yards out from it, the large mass of stone looks a bit like that of a hulking armor knight. Being a pikeman, Amber is aware of the fact that an armored foe is usually a challenge. Jade and Diamant are far better at dispatching those enemies with their hammers and armorslayers, leaving Amber in the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) dust. However, the tree behind the rock pile sets his mind racing. A single foe, hunched over the crown prince, axe at the ready to deal a fatal blow. The life of his liege resting on his shoulders, a retainer’s ultimate duty is nigh-!

The man feels a smile spread across his face. He is, after all, the Great Hero Amber! Giving a light kick to his horse’s side, he sets her to charge at full speed. He lets go of the reins, trusting only his thighs to keep him steady as he surges closer and closer to his target. His hands grip onto the hilt of his lance, preparing a flying leap attack off of his horse to pierce the armor with full force! The smell of iron enters his nose, caught on the winds as hooves stomp into the ground with mighty force. Giddily, Amber bites his lip, raising himself slightly on the stirrups of his saddle as he prepares to jump. Then he hears rattling, and the weight of his whole body vanishes.

As the man flies through the air, he takes a few short seconds to fully process what’s happening. He hears his horse let out a fearful cry, whiney echoing out against the canyons below. At his feet, a rattlesnake, hissing and shaking its tail rapidly in warning. Amber, airborn, dropping his weapon from the force by which he’s being launched, feels fear enter his mind. If he’s sent careening off the plateau, he’ll surely die from the fall; not at all the way the retainer wishes to go out. What will the nobles back in the capital say? “Oh, poor Amber, his own stupidity really was the death of him.” The thought makes a pit form in the man’s stomach, a pain which is quickly replaced with the feeling of a large branch colliding with his gut.

Amber groans in pain, the feeling of gravity entering into his body once again as his forward momentum is halted immediately. He looks around, vision filled with greenery and his nose now full of the smell of pine needles. He perks up, realizing the tree just behind his rock dummy managed to save him from death. Calling out in victory, the retainer’s celebration is cut short, when the base of the branch he’s hanging on starts to crack.

“Uh oh…” The growth splinters and then breaks entirely, dropping the man like a sack of flour. Fearful yelps come from inside the tree’s remaining branches, along with the sounds of ripping, tearing, and yanking. Amber can feel tugs and pulls as his clothes get hooked onto the various limbs of the evergreen, making holes and rips and even taking a few chunks of fabric with them. He prepares for the worst as the knight gets closer and closer to the reddish Brodian dirt down below, only to be halted… And for a sudden pain to enter into his groin.

Amber howls in pain as he falls right into a wedgie, the fabric of his white briefs getting yanked up his ass. The stretch in his underwear leaves the man bouncing a few times, as the force of his fall reaches an equilibrium, resulting in the royal retainer receiving a relief in pressure that is followed by a harsh squish to the soft skin of his groin. The red waistband travels up past his waist as he sinks further into the wedgie with each bounce, the undies then flossing in the back between his cheeks to compensate. The pale, round flesh of Amber’s has a dusting of freckles, light and subtle, but made all the more visible as the setting sunlight is able to settle on the humiliating scene. A set of soft thighs come together in a useless attempt to soften the pressure between their owner’s legs, and Amber finds himself biting his lip to hold back the groans of embarrassment and discomfort. 

“Why me… Ugh, t-this can’t actually be happening, right? How unlucky could I possibly be.” Looking up in exasperation with himself, the blond sees the large amounts of scraps hanging in the tree above himself. His face grows pink, slowly looking down at himself and confirming what he already knows based on just how much fabric is tied up in the branches. “C’mon, seriously?!”

Amber’s hands cover his crotch, body bereft of any clothing save for his black riding boots and his underwear. Thighs pressed even closer together now, this time for modesty, the retainer assesses his situation. The feeling of soft cotton is rubbing against his hole, sending a weird feeling up the base of his spine that he isn’t entirely sure how to feel about. His clothes are completely totaled, save for his white briefs with red trim, and based on the horse tracks making their way several yards out and down the trail Amber used to get up the plateau earlier, his spare clothes are long gone inside his horse’s saddlebags. His lance sits at the base of the tree, meaning he won’t be totally defenseless… Assuming he can get down, that is.

“Well… I guess it could be worse. I should probably count my blessings that I trained alone today. Jade would put this in one of her novels for sure, and then the whole continent would know about it. Including the Divine Dragon.” Amber shivers. “Yeah, let’s not think too hard about that. Now, how to get down. I guess I could just wait until my briefs give out, but there’s no telling how long that’d be… Plus, if it takes too long, Diamant will come looking for me, and that might be even worse than Alear seeing me! And even then, if these undies rip I’ll be… Naked.”

Amber feels his cock stir in spite of the wedgie and in spite of his shame. He can’t just go on a nude stroll back to the castle, not without also walking through town. He could try and take something off a clothes line from one of the citizens, but that would be stealing, and thus unbecoming of a knight. Taking a frustrated breath in, the smell of earth and pine do a little to calm Amber down so he can think. 

“However it has to happen… I’ll try and unhook my briefs first, and go from there!” With optimism in his voice, Amber removes his hands from the front of his bulge, reaching up high above his head. His fingers grace the edges of his waistband, but can’t find a hold on where the fabric is stuck. He jostles himself a bit in this process, making himself gasp as the wedgie worsens and his body sways. “C’mon, I can almost…”

The fabric of Amber’s underwear begins to rub and grind against him, getting a few groans to escape past the man’s lips. Due to the constant stretching and reaching from his arms, his lower half begins to rock back and forth in its cotton confines, keeping firm pressure on his most sensitive areas. When the undies push against the pink outside of his hole for the twelfth time, the whimpers and whines and yowls and mewls become a series of moans. It’s when the knight realizes that his dick is at full mast in his wedgied briefs that he finally stops.

“Oh man… This shouldn’t be t-turning me on… Right? Wedgies are what the other guys in the village would give me for being the Alpaca Freak, a-and I definitely wasn’t a fan of them back then. But I guess… when it’s me by myself, it’s a little different.” Amber kicks the air in front of him, half regretting that choice when it jostles his underwear into rubbing against his arousal. “Ugh, I don’t have time to think about this. I just need to get down, and I need to do it now!”

As if with the perfect comedic timing of Jade’s novels, a few snaps and pops are heard from the seams of the blond’s briefs. Amber gulps, suddenly all too aware of just how this hanging wedgie is about to end as his underwear begins to show holes– Holes that grow larger and larger until eventually the knight is sent plummeting to the ground. After hitting the dusty earth ass first, the knight stands on shaky legs, rubbing his sore tailbone. Another gust of metallic-smelling wind washes over his body, and Amber shivers. He looks down, and his hard, leaking cock is bobbing eagerly in front of him, sticking out and pointing forward in an obscene fashion. With a resigned and embarrassed whine, Amber covers the aching thing in one hand, reaching down to pick up his discarded spear from off the ground with the other. The knight then takes one last look up to the tattered remains of his cotton undies, then takes a look back down at the simple black boots that will be his only cover on the walk back home. 

“Maybe I’ll just make some shorts out of some leaves and sap…” Amber muses, defeated. “But I should probably remember that rhyme Diamant taught me about poison ivy. What was it again? ‘Leaves of three, let it be?’ Or maybe it was something like, ‘By a tree, leaf it be.’ Does poison ivy grow on trees?”

The stiff breeze and the cold metal of his lance are the only companions Amber has as the man takes his first steps on a new nude journey. Hopefully he can just get home without incident… But he is Amber, hero extraordinaire.

Chapter Text

“So, you learned a lot of your techniques from the Black Fang, yeah?” The question slips off Matthew’s tongue absentmindedly. It is spoken quietly, nonchalant, and could almost have been lost in the bustling tavern conversation happening all around them.

“That’s right. You fishing for something specific?” Legault responds. “Because, if you are, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

“I mean, not specific, but I grew up without any formal training. What I learned, I learned on the street. Trial and error, and I never really…”

“Killed?” The thought is finished for him, and Matthew doesn’t reply, instead looking down at the wooden mug of ale he’s keeping clasped firmly in both hands. Legault saves him from having to apologize by continuing, thankfully changing the subject. “You know, I did a lot more than just kill. Sure, the Black Fang was an assassin’s league, but we were free to pursue other employment outside of contracts.”

“Like what?” Matthew tilts his head, curious, which gets a chuckle from Legault.

“All sorts of things, really. We had healers who would often treat roaming mercenary bands, people who did spy work like yourself thanks to their proximity to nobility, but there were also people who would still want to take out a hit on their target, just… Less lethally.”

“How do you mean, ‘less lethally’?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t be a good spy if I didn’t follow all my leads.”

Legault chuckles, taking a sip of his ale, and looking around the tavern. The way his eyes swish back and forth between people, like a pendulum inside an old clock swinging mechanically back and forth, is a movement Matthew knows well. It’s subtle, if anybody were looking they’d think nothing of the motion, just two men chatting and people watching, but Matthew knows how to see things through a rogue’s eyes– The so-called Hurricane sees fit to give him a personal demonstration. 

The younger thief watches the subtle ways that Legault’s eyes stop on potential targets. The intent isn’t that of a killer, Matthew knows that much. This is something familiar, the sizing up of a thieving target. The pale-headed prowler lingers mostly on their shared companions, others who also saw fit to unwind at the tavern after all their marching. Darting from Lowen, Raven and Lucius, Oswin, and then finally fixating on Sain and Kent. Both riders are sitting at the bar, the former trying to chat up the attractive looking tavern maid, and the latter trying to keep from having an irritated expression at Sain’s philandering and failing miserably. Looking at things through a thief's eyes, Matthew knows the duo make easy prey, Kent too focused on tuning out the flirting and flouncing, and Sain too busy complimenting the woman’s long hair, judging by the way he brushes a curly black strand out of her face.

Matthew is about to comment to Legault, but when he looks over, the man is already gone. The brunette darts his eyes around the room, only able to fix his gaze on the tall, thin man for seconds at a time. The way Legault moves with shocking speed while never once disturbing the crowd or drawing attention to himself… It’s more of an invisible breeze than a hurricane, but the skill is impressive beyond measure to Matthew. The artifice in each footstep, the masking of his presence to all but the most trained eyes, how he slips between people with the grace of a dancer and the power of a soldier… Then he walks past the two cavalrymen, just a brief second, and then he’s back at the table with Matthew in a matter of seconds. 

“Impressive, but I thought you were going to show me how you take out a hit on somebody without killing them?” The other thief, despite his awe at watching the lithe larcenist at work, can’t help but wonder what the point of any of it was.

“Some people want revenge, and that’s all. Killing and revenge aren’t mutually exclusive,” Legault retorts, holding up two leather belts. “Humiliation can be all someone needs to get even.”

Matthew turns to look back at Kent and Sain, and he smirks as he watches their tan canvas pants descend down their legs.Kent is the first to notice, picking up on the exposure immediately, in part to being less distracted than his partner, in part to being generally more modest. He hurriedly sets his drink down on the counter, bending over to pick up his fallen trousers, sticking his white briefs covered butt out to a table of men who whistle and catcall the absolutely humiliated knight. Kent darts away from the table without a word, walking past the catcalling and teasing group of mercenaries with red cheeks to match his armor, one hand holding up his pants as he quickly exits the tavern. Sain, meanwhile, continues flirting, unaware of the state of his pants in spite of the chuckling and chortling around him. The maid just looks down in surprise, then joins in on the giggling once she’s registered the sight of Sain in a black jockstrap. From where he’s sat, Matthew can see the full, pale curve of the man’s muscular cheeks. The skimpiness of the underwear along with the lanceman’s inability to recognize his own exposure, draws more attention than Kent’s brief moment of embarrassment. 

“Hmm?” Sain looks around at all the staring, whispering, and giggling patrons, the attention in the room being focused almost solely on him. He then looks to the maid, and follows her gaze down to his exposed bulge. “Yipe!”

The green knight yelps in almost girlish fashion, covering his crotch with both hands and locking his thighs together, freezing in a mix of panic and humiliation. Twisting in the wind for several minutes, the dirty blond grabs hold of his pants at his ankles, yanking them up and sprinting out from the establishment, face somehow redder than Kent’s. Opening the door causes his pants to fall below his muscular ass once more, much to the delight of the onlookers, before he finally stumbles out into the night air. 

Matthew laughs, the atmosphere of the room finally returning to normal. “That was amazing, you have to teach me how to do that!” 

“Oh? If I teach you, you’ll have to learn the same way I did. It’ll be tricky, are you sure you’re up for it?” Legault has a smirk on his face as he asks, but the brunette just guffaws.

“I’ve seen your footwork, and while it is impressive, I’m also not a slouch when it comes to stealth. I bet I can figure it out in no time at all.”

“Well… Since you seem so self assured.” Legault stands from his chair, walking behind Matthew’s own seat, and places both of his trained, calloused hands on Matthew’s shoulders. His face moves in slowly, lips resting the tiniest centimeter from the shell of the seated thief’s ear, and Matthew feels his nerves prick up. The feeling is dangerous, and he’s taken aback by how another man is making him feel this way, but he pushes it down.

“O-Okay, so what do I start with?” Matthew asks, hoping the instruction will calm him down a bit before he can actually get properly hot and bothered.

“Start by selecting your target,” Legault whispers, rubbing small, circular motions on Matthew’s shoulders. “You need to be able to assess their weaknesses. An alert target is a problem, so if you’re in the position where you’d want to humiliate one, you’ll need to get them off guard. Do you see any defenseless sucker here you could swipe the clothes off of?”

Looking around the room, Matthew hopes analyzing targets will suppress the delighted moan in the back of his throat as Legault works out a few of his knots. Focusing entirely on the men his senior rogue has already sized up that evening, he reflects on his options. Raven and Lucien do good job of distracting each other, but they’re facing one another, so pulling off something on the both of them would be impossible without practicing this technique more. Oswin is a knight, trained to keep an eye out for… Okay, well, maybe not this exact type of activity, but if he senses Matthew at all, the job will be over before it starts. Then, it hits him, the third cavalryman of their current company, Lowen, sits, sleepily looking over his third cup of ale than evening, face flushing pink and warm. 

“Okay, I see my target, now what?” 

“When you go and approach your target, be swift and silent. If you need to make a distraction, make sure it's innocuous, and doesn’t draw any attention to what you’re doing. Lowen is seated like you are, so it would be easy to approach him from behind and do something.”

“Like, say, put a slug down the back of his underwear?”

“Well, yes, if you want to be crude. But you could also effortlessly slice his clothing off his body. You’d need only one hand and a sharp knife, and you could even go so far as to leave him completely nude.”

“Oooh, that is evil…” Matthew smirks, about to reach for his knife, but his wrist is caught by Legault’s hand. 

“Now, before you get too cocky, I expect to work out some payment for these little tricks I’ve given you,” the other man says, his voice dropping lower, huskier. The tip of Legault’s tongue moves along the firm muscles of the younger rogue’s neck. Matthew squeaks, despite himself. “Before I let you go have all that fun, I expect you to come by my tent after you’re done here. I have a feeling a thief like you won’t keep me waiting long. Sound good?”

Shit . Matthew curses himself for getting hard. His pants should cover any obvious bulge, but the fact Legault of all people is getting him this aroused is as infuriating as it is embarrassing. Still, Matthew nods, far more eager than he needs too, and he curses himself for that too. 

“Good boy. Have a fun walk back.” Legault chuckles softly into his ear, and a surge of anticipation runs through Matthew. He bites his lip, the taller man tweaking one of his nipples between his fingers before he’s gone and…

“Wait…” Matthew suddenly feels his mind clear. How had Legault just touched him in such an intimate place through his clothes? 

With the sudden drop of his stomach, Matthew realizes far too late that he just got played. A quick glance down at his lap and, sure enough, his clothes are all missing save for his leather gloves and boots. A few stray pieces of string are on the ground around him, all from where Legault was slicing off his clothes while the brunette looked out at the crowd. His cock is hard, at a full seven inches, and sticking straight up, a bead of precum leaks from the tip, rolling down the base of his cock as the cool air of the tavern blows on it. Shallow, quick breaths come from Matthew as he fully absorbs his situation. Horny, naked, no clothes to hide himself with, as a whole town to traverse before he can get to the camp on the outskirts of the village and kick Legault’s ass.

“ Fuck -!” Shivers wrack Matthews body, though not from the chill dancing across his body. The thrill of what’s to come makes the man feel a desperate need to cum, but the time for that is later. Standing, he quickly grabs a nearby wooden drink tray, covers his cock, and quietly slips out the door for the long walk back…