[fic] Viewfinder: AU Drabble: Dance 2
Title: AU: Drabble: Dance 2
Based upon: Viewfinder
Pairing: Asami x Fei
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU
Notes: Fei dances for Asami
Yesterday’s fic had Fei dancing, but it descended into something other than dance. I wanted Fei to actually dance. Today’s fic comes closer to that.
His Excellency Asami Ryuichi sat bored in his in chair at the banquet. Petty bureaucrats always had to have some kind of feast when he passed through their territories. Suffering through them went with his position. He glanced around the small, overly crowded dining hall. Their taste in both décor and guests was abominable. At least the ‘eating’ portion of the evening was over. He’d never look at roast duck the same way again. Now there was just the entertainment, and then he could leave. The brown-haired serving boy that was giving him confused glances all evening looked like a perfect diversion.
Fingers clutched at his arm. An excessive amount of perfume stung his nostrils. The bureaucrat’s wife. She’d been trying to flirt with him all evening. Her hand slipped down to rest on his thigh, and finding no reaction there, she frowned. Asami turned his cold glare upon her and she quickly removed her hand.
She spoke stiffly. “Perhaps, Lord Asami, the upcoming dancer will be more to your liking. He’s quite striking, if you like that sort of thing.”
He continued to stare at her, until she scurried away. A dancer. He could imagine the quality of 'dancers' to be found in this backwater.
A hush fell over the diners as a cloaked form stepped into the room. The figure stood there until all eyes were focused towards that end of the hall, and all voices silent.
The dancer moved slowly forward, fluid yet controlled, grey silk billowing behind, having an unexpected grace and power that made Asami sit up.
He stopped in the center of the room, then long, elegant hands appeared from within the cloak. They rose to the tie at the neck and pulled it, and the silk slid to the floor. Gasps were heard around the tables. A page boy ran out and gathered the cloak then dashed away, leaving a man standing there.
Asami stopped breathing. He’d seen any number of provincial beauties, any number of city sophisticates, but they were vinegar compared to this sweet wine. Nothing had prepared him for this.
The tall, slim body wore a high necked red silk tunic of Eastern cut, belted in black leather, black silk pantaloons underneath, ankle high black leather boots on his feet. The material of the tunic strained across muscles of perfect proportion. His long thick black hair was tied, a dark cascade down his shoulder. And his face....the skin glowed like pearls, except for a faint blush at the cheeks. The eyelashes, long and dark, swept away the gazes that tried to penetrate them. The mouth, a small red pout that reminded Asami of fresh cherries. He longed to taste its juice.
The lashes rose, revealing eyes of dark amber, eyes that looked only at him. The lips curled up slightly at the corners as the man bowed. Towards him. Eyes never leaving his face. Asami's breath quickened.
The dancer raised a languid hand, and a musician came forward and sat to the side. A drummer, who began a slow beat.
The man swayed slightly, his eyes closing as he let the music take him. He reached behind his back to draw out two short swords that had been stuck in the belt of the tunic. The swords were razor sharp, the drawing of them causing the leather to part and slip from the dancer’s hips to the floor.
Hands raised the swords so that they framed the dancer’s face, one above, one below. The cherry lips widened into a wicked smile. The drumming quickened. The dance began.
He whirled with unexpected speed, the swords glittering in candlelight as he moved through intricate patterns, almost too swift for the eye to follow. The blades slashed the air as the dancer moved sinuously across the floor, a whirling dervish. He moved towards the banquet tables and spun along them, blades parting candles from flame down its length, until only weak torchlight from a few wall sconces lit the room.
Now part shadow, part flame, the red and black figure reached the central table where Asami sat. As quickly as the motion had begun, the dancer stilled in front of Asami, eyes on him. He slowly raised one sword over his head. Asami’s body tensed. The blade slipped behind the man’s head and cut the tie binding his hair. He shook his head and waves of black swirled about his face and shoulders. He laughed knowingly, then spun away, once more a flurry of steel and silk.
The sword's patterns became more intricate, now and then a sword tip flicking in to slash at the silk covering his body. Material parted to reveal perfection underneath, more of the hard pale flesh appearing as the dancer became more frenzied. The body shone with sweat, the black hair now sticking where skin was bare. Soon only the slightest threads of silk held the clothing upon the man’s body, He spun towards the head table and with a great leap flew to its top, crouching before Asami, one sword at Asami’s throat and one at his groin. The tip of the one at his groin traced lightly down its hard length. Asami went still, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.
“How much were you paid to kill me?” he asked softly.
The assassin smiled. “Not enough for me to take the offer.” He leaned in, swords never moving, and lightly licked Asami’s lips, which parted in a sigh to allow the tongue entrance. It slid into his mouth like a sword to sheath, and the juices from those lips tasted even sweeter than he could have imagined. The dancer pulled back, lashes banking some of the heat in his eyes.
“Perhaps you’ll need someone of my talents in the future. Spread the word that you’re searching for Feilong, and if I have nothing better to do, I’ll find you.”
And in a whirl too fast to follow, he leapt to the floor and was gone.
Asami licked his lips and smiled in anticipation of the chase to come. He would own this wild creature. In the future, Feilong would only dance for him.
~end~
Based upon: Viewfinder
Pairing: Asami x Fei
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU
Notes: Fei dances for Asami
Yesterday’s fic had Fei dancing, but it descended into something other than dance. I wanted Fei to actually dance. Today’s fic comes closer to that.
His Excellency Asami Ryuichi sat bored in his in chair at the banquet. Petty bureaucrats always had to have some kind of feast when he passed through their territories. Suffering through them went with his position. He glanced around the small, overly crowded dining hall. Their taste in both décor and guests was abominable. At least the ‘eating’ portion of the evening was over. He’d never look at roast duck the same way again. Now there was just the entertainment, and then he could leave. The brown-haired serving boy that was giving him confused glances all evening looked like a perfect diversion.
Fingers clutched at his arm. An excessive amount of perfume stung his nostrils. The bureaucrat’s wife. She’d been trying to flirt with him all evening. Her hand slipped down to rest on his thigh, and finding no reaction there, she frowned. Asami turned his cold glare upon her and she quickly removed her hand.
She spoke stiffly. “Perhaps, Lord Asami, the upcoming dancer will be more to your liking. He’s quite striking, if you like that sort of thing.”
He continued to stare at her, until she scurried away. A dancer. He could imagine the quality of 'dancers' to be found in this backwater.
A hush fell over the diners as a cloaked form stepped into the room. The figure stood there until all eyes were focused towards that end of the hall, and all voices silent.
The dancer moved slowly forward, fluid yet controlled, grey silk billowing behind, having an unexpected grace and power that made Asami sit up.
He stopped in the center of the room, then long, elegant hands appeared from within the cloak. They rose to the tie at the neck and pulled it, and the silk slid to the floor. Gasps were heard around the tables. A page boy ran out and gathered the cloak then dashed away, leaving a man standing there.
Asami stopped breathing. He’d seen any number of provincial beauties, any number of city sophisticates, but they were vinegar compared to this sweet wine. Nothing had prepared him for this.
The tall, slim body wore a high necked red silk tunic of Eastern cut, belted in black leather, black silk pantaloons underneath, ankle high black leather boots on his feet. The material of the tunic strained across muscles of perfect proportion. His long thick black hair was tied, a dark cascade down his shoulder. And his face....the skin glowed like pearls, except for a faint blush at the cheeks. The eyelashes, long and dark, swept away the gazes that tried to penetrate them. The mouth, a small red pout that reminded Asami of fresh cherries. He longed to taste its juice.
The lashes rose, revealing eyes of dark amber, eyes that looked only at him. The lips curled up slightly at the corners as the man bowed. Towards him. Eyes never leaving his face. Asami's breath quickened.
The dancer raised a languid hand, and a musician came forward and sat to the side. A drummer, who began a slow beat.
The man swayed slightly, his eyes closing as he let the music take him. He reached behind his back to draw out two short swords that had been stuck in the belt of the tunic. The swords were razor sharp, the drawing of them causing the leather to part and slip from the dancer’s hips to the floor.
Hands raised the swords so that they framed the dancer’s face, one above, one below. The cherry lips widened into a wicked smile. The drumming quickened. The dance began.
He whirled with unexpected speed, the swords glittering in candlelight as he moved through intricate patterns, almost too swift for the eye to follow. The blades slashed the air as the dancer moved sinuously across the floor, a whirling dervish. He moved towards the banquet tables and spun along them, blades parting candles from flame down its length, until only weak torchlight from a few wall sconces lit the room.
Now part shadow, part flame, the red and black figure reached the central table where Asami sat. As quickly as the motion had begun, the dancer stilled in front of Asami, eyes on him. He slowly raised one sword over his head. Asami’s body tensed. The blade slipped behind the man’s head and cut the tie binding his hair. He shook his head and waves of black swirled about his face and shoulders. He laughed knowingly, then spun away, once more a flurry of steel and silk.
The sword's patterns became more intricate, now and then a sword tip flicking in to slash at the silk covering his body. Material parted to reveal perfection underneath, more of the hard pale flesh appearing as the dancer became more frenzied. The body shone with sweat, the black hair now sticking where skin was bare. Soon only the slightest threads of silk held the clothing upon the man’s body, He spun towards the head table and with a great leap flew to its top, crouching before Asami, one sword at Asami’s throat and one at his groin. The tip of the one at his groin traced lightly down its hard length. Asami went still, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.
“How much were you paid to kill me?” he asked softly.
The assassin smiled. “Not enough for me to take the offer.” He leaned in, swords never moving, and lightly licked Asami’s lips, which parted in a sigh to allow the tongue entrance. It slid into his mouth like a sword to sheath, and the juices from those lips tasted even sweeter than he could have imagined. The dancer pulled back, lashes banking some of the heat in his eyes.
“Perhaps you’ll need someone of my talents in the future. Spread the word that you’re searching for Feilong, and if I have nothing better to do, I’ll find you.”
And in a whirl too fast to follow, he leapt to the floor and was gone.
Asami licked his lips and smiled in anticipation of the chase to come. He would own this wild creature. In the future, Feilong would only dance for him.
~end~