Cold Hands
Title: Cold Hands
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Rating|Genre: pg-13 for sexual innuendo | slash?
Characters|Pairing: Gwendal | Gwendal/Yozak (sort of)
Summary: Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he thought about fire.
Word count: 368
Spoilers|Warnings: No
Notes: Another need-to-get-it-out-of-my-head fic.
Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he thought about fire.
Gwendal slept well, usually. He had a lot to do and a lot of things on his mind, and work-filled days require sleep-filled nights.
Except if he had too much on his mind, in which case he didn’t sleep at all, but spent the night at his desk, or thinking or knitting in a chair by the window, perhaps getting one or two hours of sleep when the sky already began to show the first signs of dawn.
But it also happened sometimes that he was too tired to think or knit; very tired, but he still couldn’t sleep. Maybe because he didn’t have enough tiring things to think about, or maybe because his hands and feet were cold
He had a secret trick to get warm. He imagined burying his hands in soft, rich masses of fire-colored hair. He imagined eyes as blue as the deep burning core of flames.
This made him warmer. This made him hot, even; perhaps too hot. He imagined what one would do if one could touch the body - so strong and fierce - that belonged to all that fire, as if hair and eyes weren’t enough. It was his best-kept secret that he sometimes warmed his cold hands on his own body, thinking about Yozak, imagining his touch.
He did not know how Yozak would feel about that.
Gwendal had so much to do, more important things than to try to pursue a potential lover, so many more important things to think of than whether he was hot or cold at night. And he slept well, usually. But sometimes, in anyone’s life, there are short passing moments when life just goes on and there’s nothing more to do than to sit back, catch your breath and clear your head.
During such a moment when he was completely unguarded from himself and if he was alone, he might notice that his hands were cold again and wish for something more than his imagination to make them warm.
And then something called for his immediate attention and if he saw Yozak, the only services he asked for were in the interest of the kingdom, completely unrelated to his cold and sleepless nights.
Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou
Rating|Genre: pg-13 for sexual innuendo | slash?
Characters|Pairing: Gwendal | Gwendal/Yozak (sort of)
Summary: Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he thought about fire.
Word count: 368
Spoilers|Warnings: No
Notes: Another need-to-get-it-out-of-my-head fic.
Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he thought about fire.
Gwendal slept well, usually. He had a lot to do and a lot of things on his mind, and work-filled days require sleep-filled nights.
Except if he had too much on his mind, in which case he didn’t sleep at all, but spent the night at his desk, or thinking or knitting in a chair by the window, perhaps getting one or two hours of sleep when the sky already began to show the first signs of dawn.
But it also happened sometimes that he was too tired to think or knit; very tired, but he still couldn’t sleep. Maybe because he didn’t have enough tiring things to think about, or maybe because his hands and feet were cold
He had a secret trick to get warm. He imagined burying his hands in soft, rich masses of fire-colored hair. He imagined eyes as blue as the deep burning core of flames.
This made him warmer. This made him hot, even; perhaps too hot. He imagined what one would do if one could touch the body - so strong and fierce - that belonged to all that fire, as if hair and eyes weren’t enough. It was his best-kept secret that he sometimes warmed his cold hands on his own body, thinking about Yozak, imagining his touch.
He did not know how Yozak would feel about that.
Gwendal had so much to do, more important things than to try to pursue a potential lover, so many more important things to think of than whether he was hot or cold at night. And he slept well, usually. But sometimes, in anyone’s life, there are short passing moments when life just goes on and there’s nothing more to do than to sit back, catch your breath and clear your head.
During such a moment when he was completely unguarded from himself and if he was alone, he might notice that his hands were cold again and wish for something more than his imagination to make them warm.
And then something called for his immediate attention and if he saw Yozak, the only services he asked for were in the interest of the kingdom, completely unrelated to his cold and sleepless nights.