You Wish (8b/?)
anonymous
November 3 2010, 04:03:04 UTC
Alfred continued happily shoving their way through the swamp, but Arthur suddenly caught a small popping noise, somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. An animal perhaps?
Then a spurt of flame suddenly erupted from the ground, missing Alfred, but quickly crawling up the legs of Arthur’s trousers. Cursing at the ground, Arthur leapt out of the way as the fire settled back down, flailing and toppling into Alfred’s waiting arms. With tight, controlled movements, Alfred deposited him on a relatively stable-looking log.
Arthur held still as Alfred’s hands smothered the little flames still running up his trousers, and tried not to notice that Alfred looked about as panicked as Arthur had felt. Then again, it wasn’t every day your long lost love was set on fire, so Arthur really couldn’t blame him. Eventually, though, the flames were out and Arthur only had a couple of blackened, tattered hems to show for it.
Still, Alfred ran his hands gently up from Arthur’s ankles nearly to his knees. “Well, that was an adventure,” he remarked, smiling again. “Any damage?”
He could very well feel for himself that Arthur’s skin was entirely unblemished, if a bit heated, but Arthur could tell it was a somewhat transparent excuse to run his hands along Arthur’s legs. He was slow, and gentle, and nearly erotic about too, and Arthur couldn’t find it in him for a second to make Alfred stop.
Arthur shook his head in the negative, and, feeling a patch of rough, possibly singed skin brush his knee, asked, “You?”
Alfred copied his head shake, but Arthur stopped him from standing with a hand on his shoulder. With his free hand, he tugged Alfred’s wrist until he could examine the skin on his palms. They were minorly burned, just a bit red, and Arthur leaned down to gently kiss the rise of his palm in a silent thank you. Alfred really was too sweet for his own good sometimes.
The larger man smiled softly up at him from his kneeling position, pulling back his hands and standing with Arthur. They’d gone not two steps before the same popping noise came, and Arthur tugged Alfred by the collar, pulling him out of the way of a shot of flame just before it could hit him.
“Well, one thing I’ll say,” Alfred said on a slight laugh. “The Fire Swap does keep you on your toes.”
Arthur gave him a withering stare. It was all fine and dandy for Alfred to be gallivanting around this place like he owned it, but oneof them had to keep an eye out for dangers. Alfred kissed his cheek softly, somehow managing to convey his apology for being so cavalier, before taking Arthur’s hand in his, linking their fingers in a way that wouldn’t aggravate his burns.
He started to lead the way again, and Arthur vaguely hoped Alfred knew where he was leading them. He voiced his concern a few minutes later when, after tripping over a particularly well-hidden root, he’d become even less fond of this idiotic swamp.
“This will all soon be a happy memory,” Alfred told him reassuringly, rubbing away the tension in Arthur’s body with firm fingers massaging his hand and wrist. “Roberts’ ship, Revenge, is anchored at the far end, a ways past the end of the Swamp. And, as you know, I’m Roberts.”
“But how is that possible?” Arthur asked, pulling his damaged hems out of a bramble on their self-made path. “He’s been marauding twenty years and you only left me five years ago.” He’d also have to be about two years old if Alfred had been Roberts all along.
Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the now-familiar popping sound, and stuck his sword into the ground before lifting Arthur with hands around his waist. The smaller man was whirled out of harm’s way and set back on the trail Alfred had been happily chopping through the Swamp.
“Y’see,” Alfred started, once again hacking away at the vines and trees. “What I told you before about saying please was true. It intrigued Roberts, just like me talking about how beautiful you are.”
Arthur flushed only slightly at the casually given compliment, but only nodded in understanding as Alfred went on with his story, diligently hacking at thick vines that (oh so disconcertingly) made halfway sentient groaning noises as they fell.
Then a spurt of flame suddenly erupted from the ground, missing Alfred, but quickly crawling up the legs of Arthur’s trousers. Cursing at the ground, Arthur leapt out of the way as the fire settled back down, flailing and toppling into Alfred’s waiting arms. With tight, controlled movements, Alfred deposited him on a relatively stable-looking log.
Arthur held still as Alfred’s hands smothered the little flames still running up his trousers, and tried not to notice that Alfred looked about as panicked as Arthur had felt. Then again, it wasn’t every day your long lost love was set on fire, so Arthur really couldn’t blame him. Eventually, though, the flames were out and Arthur only had a couple of blackened, tattered hems to show for it.
Still, Alfred ran his hands gently up from Arthur’s ankles nearly to his knees. “Well, that was an adventure,” he remarked, smiling again. “Any damage?”
He could very well feel for himself that Arthur’s skin was entirely unblemished, if a bit heated, but Arthur could tell it was a somewhat transparent excuse to run his hands along Arthur’s legs. He was slow, and gentle, and nearly erotic about too, and Arthur couldn’t find it in him for a second to make Alfred stop.
Arthur shook his head in the negative, and, feeling a patch of rough, possibly singed skin brush his knee, asked, “You?”
Alfred copied his head shake, but Arthur stopped him from standing with a hand on his shoulder. With his free hand, he tugged Alfred’s wrist until he could examine the skin on his palms. They were minorly burned, just a bit red, and Arthur leaned down to gently kiss the rise of his palm in a silent thank you. Alfred really was too sweet for his own good sometimes.
The larger man smiled softly up at him from his kneeling position, pulling back his hands and standing with Arthur. They’d gone not two steps before the same popping noise came, and Arthur tugged Alfred by the collar, pulling him out of the way of a shot of flame just before it could hit him.
“Well, one thing I’ll say,” Alfred said on a slight laugh. “The Fire Swap does keep you on your toes.”
Arthur gave him a withering stare. It was all fine and dandy for Alfred to be gallivanting around this place like he owned it, but oneof them had to keep an eye out for dangers. Alfred kissed his cheek softly, somehow managing to convey his apology for being so cavalier, before taking Arthur’s hand in his, linking their fingers in a way that wouldn’t aggravate his burns.
He started to lead the way again, and Arthur vaguely hoped Alfred knew where he was leading them. He voiced his concern a few minutes later when, after tripping over a particularly well-hidden root, he’d become even less fond of this idiotic swamp.
“This will all soon be a happy memory,” Alfred told him reassuringly, rubbing away the tension in Arthur’s body with firm fingers massaging his hand and wrist. “Roberts’ ship, Revenge, is anchored at the far end, a ways past the end of the Swamp. And, as you know, I’m Roberts.”
“But how is that possible?” Arthur asked, pulling his damaged hems out of a bramble on their self-made path. “He’s been marauding twenty years and you only left me five years ago.” He’d also have to be about two years old if Alfred had been Roberts all along.
Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the now-familiar popping sound, and stuck his sword into the ground before lifting Arthur with hands around his waist. The smaller man was whirled out of harm’s way and set back on the trail Alfred had been happily chopping through the Swamp.
“Y’see,” Alfred started, once again hacking away at the vines and trees. “What I told you before about saying please was true. It intrigued Roberts, just like me talking about how beautiful you are.”
Arthur flushed only slightly at the casually given compliment, but only nodded in understanding as Alfred went on with his story, diligently hacking at thick vines that (oh so disconcertingly) made halfway sentient groaning noises as they fell.
Reply
Leave a comment