Ficlet - "Peasants' Revolt"
Oh my god, it's been so long, I've actually forgotten how to rate these things!
Will come back and edit after STRICTLY COME DANCING.
Peasant's Revolt
by Trianne
Disclaimer: Complete and utter fiction.
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: PG15? NC17?
AN: A little over 600 words of not very much.
Feedback: Yes please :)
“He’ll be calling for you, soon.” Dom gestured to the chamber door, his face a perfect mixture of lust and disapproval. The day was drawing to a close, the sun sinking to its other place, and the little room had become something of a womb, albeit, in this instance, a womb without a view, given that the only vista it possessed was the brick wall of the stable block.
Elijah, sprawled on the narrow bed beside Dom, turned and raised a pale hand to Dom’s intense face. “I know, “ he soothed, “but soon isn’t now.”
“Too right.” Dom abandoned scowling at the door and turned his full attention back to Elijah.
“Are you putting on weight?” he asked in all seriousness.
Elijah struggled to sit up, entangling his stockinged feet in the meagre coverlet. “What? Are you trying to say I’m fat?” he demanded. Quick to realise he’d offended the one thing he hoped soon to be tumbling, Dom was instantly oil on dangerously troubled water, oleaginous hands and lips begging forgiveness far more successfully than mere words.
“As if I would, my love,” he ventured after a decent interval. “Still, I’m vexed as to how to get your britches unfastened this evenin’... turn a little... No! Don’t help me: you know I likes to undress you meself, see your glory emergin’ from the common cloth like Venus from t’sea...”
Elijah’s britches slid off his slender hips, cock released to sway gently like a fleshy metronome. “Hurry, Dom. You know His Lordship will be demandin’ his services soon as supper is done!”
“His Lordship. I should take a spike to His Lordship’s eye, gouge it out and toss it to his own pampered mastiff, that’s what I should do. This is England, not some godless nameless island filled with savages! What gives ‘im the right to tupp you just cos he fancies it, just cos he’s gentry and you’re lowborn? You’re not a serf, not a slave! We need a revolution, what like they just had in France!” And there it was, Dom’s passion for Elijah now focused not on Elijah’s thighs so tender, nor his sweet lips, full lips, shining eyes...
Elijah sighed and trembled a little in Dom’s arms. “My love. It is as it must be. We are servants. We must snatch our satisfaction as we can, where we can. Our love must remain hid or the Master will make us pay for our effrontery. Take me, lover, take me hard and then when I am with him, when he’s ramming his noble shaft into me, I shall be seeing your eyes, your mouth, your-“
The little hard bed creaked alarmingly as Dom got up to full throttle, riding the forbidden fruit beneath him, cock buried deep in the succulence. “You’re mine- - - mine - - -,” he gasped, turning his head to suck on Elijah’s ankle.
“Yours - - -,” Elijah tried to agree, though it was difficult to enunciate when all the air was being expelled from his body and cramp was beginning to spread into vital places.
With a great grunt, Dom shuddered inside Elijah and fell on him, pinning him. Elijah shoved at him, anxious to be free, to get some feeling back into his aching calves.
“They’ll be coming for you,” Dom whispered, his eyelids drooping. “He’ll be wantin’ you...”
“He can go fuck himself with a great cucumber, then,” Elijah replied, snuggling in against Dom’s sweat-slicked body.
“Do all you colonials talk in that lewd and disgusting manner?” His Lordship’s shock was perhaps a little overdone; his Lordship’s American cousin cared not a toss, for he was already far along the road to ... sleep.
end
Will come back and edit after STRICTLY COME DANCING.
Peasant's Revolt
by Trianne
Disclaimer: Complete and utter fiction.
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: PG15? NC17?
AN: A little over 600 words of not very much.
Feedback: Yes please :)
“He’ll be calling for you, soon.” Dom gestured to the chamber door, his face a perfect mixture of lust and disapproval. The day was drawing to a close, the sun sinking to its other place, and the little room had become something of a womb, albeit, in this instance, a womb without a view, given that the only vista it possessed was the brick wall of the stable block.
Elijah, sprawled on the narrow bed beside Dom, turned and raised a pale hand to Dom’s intense face. “I know, “ he soothed, “but soon isn’t now.”
“Too right.” Dom abandoned scowling at the door and turned his full attention back to Elijah.
“Are you putting on weight?” he asked in all seriousness.
Elijah struggled to sit up, entangling his stockinged feet in the meagre coverlet. “What? Are you trying to say I’m fat?” he demanded. Quick to realise he’d offended the one thing he hoped soon to be tumbling, Dom was instantly oil on dangerously troubled water, oleaginous hands and lips begging forgiveness far more successfully than mere words.
“As if I would, my love,” he ventured after a decent interval. “Still, I’m vexed as to how to get your britches unfastened this evenin’... turn a little... No! Don’t help me: you know I likes to undress you meself, see your glory emergin’ from the common cloth like Venus from t’sea...”
Elijah’s britches slid off his slender hips, cock released to sway gently like a fleshy metronome. “Hurry, Dom. You know His Lordship will be demandin’ his services soon as supper is done!”
“His Lordship. I should take a spike to His Lordship’s eye, gouge it out and toss it to his own pampered mastiff, that’s what I should do. This is England, not some godless nameless island filled with savages! What gives ‘im the right to tupp you just cos he fancies it, just cos he’s gentry and you’re lowborn? You’re not a serf, not a slave! We need a revolution, what like they just had in France!” And there it was, Dom’s passion for Elijah now focused not on Elijah’s thighs so tender, nor his sweet lips, full lips, shining eyes...
Elijah sighed and trembled a little in Dom’s arms. “My love. It is as it must be. We are servants. We must snatch our satisfaction as we can, where we can. Our love must remain hid or the Master will make us pay for our effrontery. Take me, lover, take me hard and then when I am with him, when he’s ramming his noble shaft into me, I shall be seeing your eyes, your mouth, your-“
The little hard bed creaked alarmingly as Dom got up to full throttle, riding the forbidden fruit beneath him, cock buried deep in the succulence. “You’re mine- - - mine - - -,” he gasped, turning his head to suck on Elijah’s ankle.
“Yours - - -,” Elijah tried to agree, though it was difficult to enunciate when all the air was being expelled from his body and cramp was beginning to spread into vital places.
With a great grunt, Dom shuddered inside Elijah and fell on him, pinning him. Elijah shoved at him, anxious to be free, to get some feeling back into his aching calves.
“They’ll be coming for you,” Dom whispered, his eyelids drooping. “He’ll be wantin’ you...”
“He can go fuck himself with a great cucumber, then,” Elijah replied, snuggling in against Dom’s sweat-slicked body.
“Do all you colonials talk in that lewd and disgusting manner?” His Lordship’s shock was perhaps a little overdone; his Lordship’s American cousin cared not a toss, for he was already far along the road to ... sleep.
end