SQUEEEEE!!!!! and 3 drabbles

[maderr]

Squeee:

NANCY GOT ME A DRESSER!!!!!!!!!!! And it was totally free. Is she fucking 1337 or what? ^____________________^

Fuck. Now I have to clean my room and do laundry.

Ah, well. I HAVE A DRESSER <<<<33333

Drabbles:

Two Quest ^___^ Because I cannot seem to leave it alone. Ah, well. I'm sure no one will complain.



Quest: Beautiful View

Glen regarded his lover with gentle amusement as Becket prowled the clearing, examining everything then doing it all over again, from smelling a flower to tossing stones in the creek to watching birds flit about.

Then he'd go back to the cliff face and stare up. And up.

They had come here for him to attend to a matter in the city, but afterwards Becket had asked to explore and Glen was beginning to realize it was nigh on impossible for him to refuse his lover anything.

When they'd come across the clearing, it had seemed the perfect place to take a break.

Becket had sat still for all of ten minutes before he'd begun his prowling.

Glen chuckled softly as yet again Becket moved to the cliff, tilting his head all the way back to stare up the sheer length of it.

He was truly beautiful, though he doubted Becket would ever see it. There was a rough edge to him; it was clear Becket had not lived an idle or gentle life. Glen just thought that added to it, honing the edge of that dark-steel beauty.

More fascinating still was the way Becket simply did things. Even when they had been all but killing each other, memories which made Glen cringe and reprimand himself even now, he had noted that trait. And been highly envious of it. Every single day he carefully weighed everything he said and did. Only with Becket had he ever been so careless or thoughtless.

Becket simply did things, went with them – only his mouth ever tripped him up.

His thoughts broke off in an effort not to laugh loudly as Becket once more completed a circuit of the clearing and returned to the cliff. "Something intrigue you?" he finally asked.

"I was wondering if there was a way up," Becket said idly, still staring, not turning to look at Glen. "I bet the view is great up there. Normally I'd give it a try, and I'm so tempted to now, but after hiking all day I'm not sure my legs would care much for it."

Glen blinked. Blinked again. Then started shaking with the effort not to laugh. That's what this was all about? And Becket had not thought…? Grinning, he stood up and soundlessly crossed the field. Becket started to turn at the last moment, but was a second too late.

He gave a startled cry as Glen swept him up and held him tight, almost shouting and all but choking him as Glen launched into the air, wings snapping out, catching the air. So very rarely did he have any need to fly, though he loved to do it.

Though he'd always done it alone. Becket was heavy, but not too heavy. It was interesting, and somehow infinitely appealing, to carry his lover as he flew. "You could have just asked," he said, mouth curving in amusement as he regarded his lover.

"Right. Wings." Becket laughed, but it was a trifle shaky - and he looked a bit paler than usual.

"I won't drop you," Glen said gently. "You said the view would be nice, I figured you were not afraid of heights. Or is it the flying?"

Becket smiled at him. "The flying. Never done this before. Funny that I didn't think to ask you, when I've always wanted to…but then again I once asked a fairy I was with for a bit...never dared to ask that again." He made a face.

Glen growled low, not liking to think of his mate with anyone else. No one was allowed to take Becket flying but him.

The depth of his possessiveness was startling…but not really. He would never forget how Becket had looked that day he'd given Glen his ring back. Such pain…never again would he allow Becket to feel that way, especially by his own actions. He would rather kill himself than ever cause Becket that sort of pain again. He had gone on a Quest for this demon…so, yes. No one took Becket flying but him. That was his right and privilege, earned by Quest.

He landed lightly at the top of the cliff and slowly let Becket down, but kept his arms firmly around the demon's waist. "You can always ask me."

He'd never forget when Becket had once said he'd gone on the Quest for Glen's smile. Himself, there had been many reasons.

Seeing the pure, unadulterated joy that flared in those pale eyes at the offer of something so simple as flying…for that, he would go on a thousand quests, and far more besides.





Quest: The Painting

"Oh, hey!" Becket said eagerly, striding across the large salon, utterly oblivious to the way the other thirty or so people in the room fell suddenly silent at his outburst. He halted in front of a massive painting. "I always wondered where this one wound up."

Halley, their prim and proper elfin host for the evening, swooped in to hover protectively between his painting and the uncouth peasant that most still regarded Becket to be. "You know this painting?" he asked frostily.

Glen shot the man a glare over Becket's shoulder, then moved to stand beside his lover, wings fluttering briefly in a protective motion.

Becket remained oblivious to the things going on around him, laughing in reply to Halley's question. "Oh, I know it all right. Took Missy nine months to paint the thing."

"Missy?" Halley asked, voice growing chillier still, lifting his chin to stare down his nose. "The artist is Melissa Westmoreland."

"We've always called her Missy, back in the village," Becket said with a shrug. He motioned to the painting. "I had to sit for three months while she sketched this thing. She fussed and fussed and fussed. We were ready to kill her." He turned to Glen and grinned. "But I got 20 loaves of apple cinnamon bread out of the deal, so it wasn't all that bad in the end."

Glen suddenly wanted very badly to kiss his lover, though it would be nigh on scandalous to be so affectionate in such a public setting. He settled for smiling fondly, laughing softly in amusement. "You sat for a famous painter and took only loaves of bread in payment?"

"It's really good bread," Becket said with an answering grin. He winked at Glen, then motioned again to the painting. "I thought Mad Finnegan was going to turn her into a frog or something, though, for making us play model for three whole months."

The sudden sharp ring to the silence around them nearly made Glen dissolve into entirely inappropriate laughter.

"Mad…Finnegan…" Halley said cautiously. "You know Mad Finnegan?"

Becket blinked, as if puzzled by the question. "Yeah. My brother is his dragon's Treasure. Plus, Finn's brother and I go fishing all the time."

"Mad Finnegan has a brother?"

"Yeah," Becket frowned, puzzled. "Seamus. He's a wizard too." He grinned. "He likes to make strange bait for the fish, and cast calling charms on them. Finn says we're cheating, but that's because he's a terrible fisher."

Halley choked. "Charms? Surely you don't mean Seamus the Charm Wizard?"

"Uh…probably?" Becket said, confused. "He's really good at them."

Glen barely smothered a laugh. "Does Missy make you sit for paintings often?" he asked, to give the others in the room a chance to recover from their shock.

"Not really," Becket asked. "She says I'm not very good at holding still." He winked again, then motioned to the painting. "Can you tell which one I sat for?"

Turning to the painting, Glen looked thoughtfully at it – and knew the answer immediately.

The painting portrayed two wizards from history, notorious for their skills and their deeds – legend had it the two tamed an infamous crimson dragon. In the painting, the shadow of a dragon was visible on the wall behind them, and both men smiled at something beyond the painting. One wizard had fair hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. The other had deep brown hair and…

Glen pointed to the dark-haired one. "Him. She gave him a bit of your smile."

"Oh," Becket said softly, looking startled and embarrassed and quietly happy.

Unable to resist, acting before he thought – so very much not like him at all – Glen stooped and stole a brief, soft kiss.

Becket smiled at him, and Glen struggled not to notice that around them the silence had only grown deeper with shock and surprise.

Halley's laughter broke it, and still smiling he stepped forward and slung an arm across Becket's shoulders, a tacit show of friendship. "So tell me more about 'Missy,' because I have been trying…"

Glen let the conversation wash over him, content to stand back and watch as Becket unwittingly entranced and enthralled Halley and all the other guests.




Next up: Prisoner. Because avalon13 put Dieter in a dress and I wanted to restore his masculinity. Then the fsking muses tied me up and ran away with the goddamn drabble. *SIGH* NWS.



Prisoner: One Winter Evening

Beraht was still shivering as he reached his room, and fumbled with the handle briefly before he realized the door was actually locked. He knew what that meant, and the thought improved his mood a bit.

Until it plummeted back down in a moment of panic when he couldn't find his key – then he remembered that he'd tucked it into his boot on the chance his jacket did not survive his afternoon with Benji and two of his friends. Rolling his eyes, he retrieved the key and unlocked the bedroom door.

The sight that greeted him was very much a welcome one after his grueling day of chasing after three tireless, mischievous young boys through the woods. On horseback.

Dieter never said, as it just was not in his nature to voice such things, but Beraht knew that one of the things he sorely missed from his homeland was the massive public baths (though Dieter, even hated as he'd been, had ranked a private one). Given that Dieter would never be described as small, Beraht could see where the individual tubs that were the style in Illussor would not suit him.

The one in which he bathed now had been custom made to suit Dieter, and could easily accommodate two Wolves.

Currently Dieter stood in the center of it, facing the roaring fire which kept back the winter chill. The flickering flames turned his skin dark, beads of water resembling beads of orange light where they caught the fire. Soap and water ran down his body as Dieter rinsed it away, tracing and emphasizing every last bit of finely honed and sculpted muscle.

Beraht stood, more than content to watch, especially the way those broad shoulders moved, the muscles pulling and rippling as Dieter moved to rinse away all the soap, then scrub and rinse his silver-touched black hair.

Headiest of all, more enthralling than even that fine form that he alone saw and touched so, was the fact that the entire time Dieter stood with his back to Beraht. The silent display of implicit trust took his breath away.

Dieter finally turned, a familiar smirk shaping his mouth. Slowly he sat down and stretched out in his massive tub. "I see Benji and his friends did not kill you."

"Nearly," Beraht said with a grimace. "I see you are cruel enough to make servants fetch you endless buckets of water in this miserable weather."

"No," Dieter said, face clouding briefly. "Two fresh soldiers who disobeyed one too many orders fetched my water, and will be doing it until spring thaw."

Beraht almost winced in sympathy, but fetching water for the winter was rather a mild punishment. He knew exactly how punishing Dieter could be.

Stifling a groan of pain, he moved to the table near Dieter's tub and sat down to begin the laborious process of removing his winter riding boots. He could not completely hide a wince as his body warmed and every last ache and pain began to present itself in full.

He dropped the boots to the floor and then stripped down to his smallclothes, not quite willing to sit entirely nude despite his proximity to the fire. Stars, he hated winter. "Did you kill your soldiers with your winter training?" He moved to the edge of the tub and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Dieter, fighting a yawn. A bath sounded good…but so did just falling over and going to sleep…

"Nearly," Dieter said smugly. "They are shaping up well enough."

Beraht saw the glint in Dieter's eyes a moment too late. "Don't you—" He hit the water with a splash, legs knocking hard against the rim before he found himself settled on Dieter's lap, legs propped on the edge of the tub. "—Dare," he finished uselessly.

Laughter rumbling in his chest, Dieter roughly seized Beraht's hair and tilted his head for a kiss, taking his mouth forcefully, extracting a response Beraht hadn't thought he had the energy to give.

Dieter's free hand smoothed over his skin and the wet fabric clinging to it.

Beraht tore his mouth away. "You could have let me finish undressing," he said.

Chuckling, Dieter began to strip his clothes away, tossing them over the side, then shifting Beraht until he straddled Dieter's thighs. The water lapped at his skin, coming up to mid-chest. It was hot, still gently steaming, but not nearly as hot as the man he was pressed against.

Firm fingers ran along his right thigh, lingering on a fist-sized bruise right in the center of it. "What happened here?" Dieter asked, pressing lightly against the bruise, making Beraht hiss. "This isn't one of mine."

"Benji," Beraht said, torn between Dieter and exhaustion.

He rested his forehead on Dieter's shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around Dieter's neck. The soap Dieter used held a faint scent of winter forest, cool and sharp, in complete contrast with the warmer, deeper scent that was only Dieter. Idly Beraht nipped at the shoulder he rested upon, feeling the muscle twitch and move beneath him.

Fingers dug hard and firm into the sore muscles of his legs – but not in taunt or arousal, Beraht realized. He groaned loudly as Dieter's ministrations ruthlessly worked out the knots in his muscles, moving from his legs to his back, seemingly everywhere until Beraht realized he did not feel half so miserable as he had before.

Somehow the water never seemed to cool, though it could only be that Dieter seemed immune to any form of cold.

As his soreness eased, the tone of Dieter's touches shifted. They became harder, rougher, nothing about them relaxing. Instead, they knotted Beraht up in an entirely different way. He shuddered as fingers dug into his hips, reminding him that while the one on his thigh did not belong to Dieter, the ones on his hips most certainly did.

"Bastard," he said softly, then bit down hard on Dieter's shoulder before moving to attack his throat. He broke off with a groan as fingers traced his spine in an all-too-knowing manner, shuddering exactly as Dieter had known he would. He could feel the vibrations of Dieter's smug laughter and bit hard at his throat in retaliation, earning a brief shiver of his own.

He swore again as he was shifted enough that Dieter could press one finger inside him, digging his nails into Dieter's back. "Stars refused—" A calloused hand wrapped around his cock and Beraht broke off with a deep moan, lost between the two sensations.

Fumbling for a better grip, he slid his hands from Dieter's wet skin to grasp the edge of the tub just past his shoulders. "Dieter—" Despite himself, he began to ride the two fingers now shoved inside him, moaning at the way they stretched and twisted.

Then the fingers were gone, and Beraht bit back a moan that would make Dieter entirely too smug. Before he could protest, the fingers were replaced by a hard heat. His cries and groans were taken by Dieter's sudden hard and hungry kiss. Beraht gave it back full measure, not letting it break until his lips were bruised and sore and he knew Dieter's were the same.

He lifted one hand from the tub to bury it in Dieter's thick hair, tugging hard enough to make Dieter grunt, but not enough to break the next devouring kiss or the rhythm of their fucking.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, he began to move at a driving pace, water splashing around them as he thrust into the hand still stroking him then back down on Dieter's cock.

It was too much for him to last long, and he came with a shout that Dieter swallowed in another dizzying kiss.

Exhaustion crashed down hard over his as the world once more calmed, but it was not nearly as tense and unhappy an exhaustion as it had been before. He once again rested his head against Dieter's shoulder, looping his arms back around Dieter's neck.

He started to make some provoking remark, but the words instead came out a deep yawn. Keeping his eyes open was becoming a bothersome chore.

Distantly he heard Dieter say something, or perhaps he was merely laughing, and then he heard nothing more.