FIC: Swords and Etiquette
Title: Swords and Etiquette
Style: Prose
Genre: Drama
Rating: NC - 17
Length: Drabble
Pairings: Beckett/Mercer
Warnings: AU, Slash, etc…
Authoress: LJ -
cassiopaya, GJ - smw006
Characters: Beckett, Mercer, OCs
Word Count: 300
Summary: Lord Beckett practices his sword skills with a most worthy opponent.
Notes: Inspired by Lynn Flewelling.
***
Lord Beckett playfully scraped his sword up and down the length of Mr. Mercer’s before retreating. The interior courtyard of the mansion dully echoed the cadence of footfalls, excited breathing, and the sound of metal on metal.
Cutler employed a style to dazzle the eye and deceive, flowing about in constant and controlled commotion like a waterfall. It suited him. But Mercer also knew that Beckett could not afford to be playful when confronting an enemy.
Coolly, David Mercer, with an impeccable economy of motion perfectly suited to him, struck like a snake past Cutler’s defense; the blunted tip of his rapier pressed into Beckett’s left breast over his heart.
“I think you will find, My Lord, that there is a time and a place for such games.”
“I assure you, Mr. Mercer, I shall keep such advice in mind.”
Small smiles were exchanged as gear was removed and placed aside to be picked up by the servants later. Saunders had taken the liberty of having the cook prepare cucumber sandwiches and procured a bottle of sangria from the cool cellars for Lord Beckett.
Ignoring Saunders’ glare at Mercer, Cutler shared his viands and wine with David. Lord and clerk were both content to wile away the rest of the afternoon observing the hummingbirds and butterflies among the tropical flowers.
That night, behind locked bower doors, Beckett once again displayed his waggishness and ran his sword along the length of Mercer’s weapon. Just enough for him to feel the cold, hard steel without placing a cut of the heated, stiff flesh.
David submitted willingly to Cutler’s whims, confident in his Master’s ability and completely trusting his word. Mercer held himself in check, least he begin thrusting against the blade, anticipating coming for his Master by stimulation of the sword alone.
Style: Prose
Genre: Drama
Rating: NC - 17
Length: Drabble
Pairings: Beckett/Mercer
Warnings: AU, Slash, etc…
Authoress: LJ -
cassiopaya, GJ - smw006
Characters: Beckett, Mercer, OCs
Word Count: 300
Summary: Lord Beckett practices his sword skills with a most worthy opponent.
Notes: Inspired by Lynn Flewelling.
***
Lord Beckett playfully scraped his sword up and down the length of Mr. Mercer’s before retreating. The interior courtyard of the mansion dully echoed the cadence of footfalls, excited breathing, and the sound of metal on metal.
Cutler employed a style to dazzle the eye and deceive, flowing about in constant and controlled commotion like a waterfall. It suited him. But Mercer also knew that Beckett could not afford to be playful when confronting an enemy.
Coolly, David Mercer, with an impeccable economy of motion perfectly suited to him, struck like a snake past Cutler’s defense; the blunted tip of his rapier pressed into Beckett’s left breast over his heart.
“I think you will find, My Lord, that there is a time and a place for such games.”
“I assure you, Mr. Mercer, I shall keep such advice in mind.”
Small smiles were exchanged as gear was removed and placed aside to be picked up by the servants later. Saunders had taken the liberty of having the cook prepare cucumber sandwiches and procured a bottle of sangria from the cool cellars for Lord Beckett.
Ignoring Saunders’ glare at Mercer, Cutler shared his viands and wine with David. Lord and clerk were both content to wile away the rest of the afternoon observing the hummingbirds and butterflies among the tropical flowers.
That night, behind locked bower doors, Beckett once again displayed his waggishness and ran his sword along the length of Mercer’s weapon. Just enough for him to feel the cold, hard steel without placing a cut of the heated, stiff flesh.
David submitted willingly to Cutler’s whims, confident in his Master’s ability and completely trusting his word. Mercer held himself in check, least he begin thrusting against the blade, anticipating coming for his Master by stimulation of the sword alone.