[OOC: AxA Fantasy AU]
Antonio as a blacksmith. Arthur as a mage. It starts with Arthur seeing Antonio in the marketplace, becoming fascinated with him and... stalking him. XD; Antonio being Antonio, doesn't seem to mind this and even befriends his stalker who hangs out by one of his windows and doesn't reveal his identity. It becomes a strange sort of courtship, if you'd like to call it that. Eventually though, they would have to meet and things would develop.
~*~
Antonio wasn't expecting his nameless and faceless friend to look so radiant. It wasn't his clothes, which he could tell were of the finest quality, not even the random twinkle of precious stones on his person. He just... Glowed.
It must be his eyes, which were a rich color of green, the green of fresh spring. And his pale, but pinkish skin that must be smooth to the touch. Skin that must not have known a day's work or a harsh noon's glare.
Antonio was hesitant to touch him (well he thought he would be if he had the chance), in fear that his own rough hands could easily bruise him. This slight, graceful figure who looked back at him and made him wonder.
Why would such a person spend so much time by his window?
It became a strange routine for them. Arthur would arrive late, almost at the time when Antonio wished to rest his head. The Blacksmith would let him in and offer him a drink or some food. Sometimes Arthur nodded and said, "Please." Sometimes he would just shake his head and would wearily untie the chord of of his rich hooded cloak.
Antonio would help, taking the warm, velvet cloak away and hang it up carefully, but he wasn't done helping. Arthur's rings came next. They would all be placed in a bowl for safe keeping to be slipped on again come morning. When Arthur slept, his fingers were bare and gently warmed by soft kisses from Antonio that made him flush and protest the treatment softly.
He wasn't a girl.
Stop treating him as such.
Despite his protests, he never pulled his hands away, nor did his complaints ever rise beyond a soft, shy whisper, so Antonio never stopped.
Arthur's robes were next and Antonio thought they were quite heavy. Maybe that's why Arthur seemed grumpy at times; he's uncomfortable with all the layers. The Mage never seemed to get used to the careful disrobing. Green eyes watched his every move and he seemed all too aware of where he placed his hands and how. The Blacksmith always gauged his reactions, stopping when he tensed or gasped and only continuing when he was allowed. In the end, Arthur was left in a thin undershirt and it left him little choice but to slip under the covers of Antonio's simple and small, but warm bed, where he snuggled and waited.
Arthur burrowed into him when he slipped in after him. The Mage had once marveled at how warm he was and since then he cuddled close to him as they shared the little bed. They were usually quiet, huddled together and sharing warmth while they traded gentle touches and kisses. Sometimes they told each other stories of how their day went: Antonio chattered about his eccentric customers. Arthur grumbled about the royalty and what they wanted him to do.
They lay intertwined and for those precious moments, pretended that the world outside didn't exist. There was just the two of them, Antonio and Arthur, and the warm bed and the fire that burned in the hearth. No politics. No intrigue. No responsibilities. No worries.
Just them, until the sun peeked in the horizon and a new day began.
~*~
Antonio wasn't expecting his nameless and faceless friend to look so radiant. It wasn't his clothes, which he could tell were of the finest quality, not even the random twinkle of precious stones on his person. He just... Glowed.
It must be his eyes, which were a rich color of green, the green of fresh spring. And his pale, but pinkish skin that must be smooth to the touch. Skin that must not have known a day's work or a harsh noon's glare.
Antonio was hesitant to touch him (well he thought he would be if he had the chance), in fear that his own rough hands could easily bruise him. This slight, graceful figure who looked back at him and made him wonder.
Why would such a person spend so much time by his window?
It became a strange routine for them. Arthur would arrive late, almost at the time when Antonio wished to rest his head. The Blacksmith would let him in and offer him a drink or some food. Sometimes Arthur nodded and said, "Please." Sometimes he would just shake his head and would wearily untie the chord of of his rich hooded cloak.
Antonio would help, taking the warm, velvet cloak away and hang it up carefully, but he wasn't done helping. Arthur's rings came next. They would all be placed in a bowl for safe keeping to be slipped on again come morning. When Arthur slept, his fingers were bare and gently warmed by soft kisses from Antonio that made him flush and protest the treatment softly.
He wasn't a girl.
Stop treating him as such.
Despite his protests, he never pulled his hands away, nor did his complaints ever rise beyond a soft, shy whisper, so Antonio never stopped.
Arthur's robes were next and Antonio thought they were quite heavy. Maybe that's why Arthur seemed grumpy at times; he's uncomfortable with all the layers. The Mage never seemed to get used to the careful disrobing. Green eyes watched his every move and he seemed all too aware of where he placed his hands and how. The Blacksmith always gauged his reactions, stopping when he tensed or gasped and only continuing when he was allowed. In the end, Arthur was left in a thin undershirt and it left him little choice but to slip under the covers of Antonio's simple and small, but warm bed, where he snuggled and waited.
Arthur burrowed into him when he slipped in after him. The Mage had once marveled at how warm he was and since then he cuddled close to him as they shared the little bed. They were usually quiet, huddled together and sharing warmth while they traded gentle touches and kisses. Sometimes they told each other stories of how their day went: Antonio chattered about his eccentric customers. Arthur grumbled about the royalty and what they wanted him to do.
They lay intertwined and for those precious moments, pretended that the world outside didn't exist. There was just the two of them, Antonio and Arthur, and the warm bed and the fire that burned in the hearth. No politics. No intrigue. No responsibilities. No worries.
Just them, until the sun peeked in the horizon and a new day began.