Cobwebs Unseen
Title: Cobwebs Unseen
Fandom: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norell
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 301
Characters/Pairing: Stephen Black/Thistledown
Summary: Stephen Black and The Gentleman tangle themselves in a web of their own making.
Stephen Black looked down at the pale being who lay beside him and felt himself suffuse with shame and guilt. He'd taken the thistledown haired man last night. And none too gently either. In a rapid succession of events that came one after the other, blurring indistinctly into one long reel till it seemed like a drunken induced imagining or the mad lucid dreams of a fever. They'd tumbled down in the end, into a bed, a soft patch of grass, a mossy outcrop, Stephen didn't know but tumble down they did. And the gentleman had laid one cool hand atop his face, white against black, and whispered but one word, "Stephen."
Stephen had replied by drawing the gentleman up with one swift tug and crushing his lips against him. The gentleman with thistledown hair tasted of menacing forests overgrown and the calm that came right before a storm. Of things long forgotten and the whisper of the wind through trees that had stood long before time.
"Stephen." He half-sighed, like a passing breeze down crumbling ruins and endless corridors.
Now, as they walked together side by side, the gentleman cheerfully listed out the various people it would be a necessity to kill off if they wanted to bring about his rightful ascension to the throne. Silently, Stephen closed the gap between them, and subsequently, the space between their mouths. He felt the gentleman's lips curve up, a flash of triumph in his eyes when they drew apart.
The gentleman grinned, sharp and white in the dim leaf-interlaced light of the forest. "Well, tomorrow mayhap." He placed a hand on top of Stephen's sleeve, pale fingers a startling contrast against the black fabric. "I don't think I'm quite in the mood for disposing anybody at this moment."
Somewhere, a raven cawed.
Fandom: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norell
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 301
Characters/Pairing: Stephen Black/Thistledown
Summary: Stephen Black and The Gentleman tangle themselves in a web of their own making.
Stephen Black looked down at the pale being who lay beside him and felt himself suffuse with shame and guilt. He'd taken the thistledown haired man last night. And none too gently either. In a rapid succession of events that came one after the other, blurring indistinctly into one long reel till it seemed like a drunken induced imagining or the mad lucid dreams of a fever. They'd tumbled down in the end, into a bed, a soft patch of grass, a mossy outcrop, Stephen didn't know but tumble down they did. And the gentleman had laid one cool hand atop his face, white against black, and whispered but one word, "Stephen."
Stephen had replied by drawing the gentleman up with one swift tug and crushing his lips against him. The gentleman with thistledown hair tasted of menacing forests overgrown and the calm that came right before a storm. Of things long forgotten and the whisper of the wind through trees that had stood long before time.
"Stephen." He half-sighed, like a passing breeze down crumbling ruins and endless corridors.
Now, as they walked together side by side, the gentleman cheerfully listed out the various people it would be a necessity to kill off if they wanted to bring about his rightful ascension to the throne. Silently, Stephen closed the gap between them, and subsequently, the space between their mouths. He felt the gentleman's lips curve up, a flash of triumph in his eyes when they drew apart.
The gentleman grinned, sharp and white in the dim leaf-interlaced light of the forest. "Well, tomorrow mayhap." He placed a hand on top of Stephen's sleeve, pale fingers a startling contrast against the black fabric. "I don't think I'm quite in the mood for disposing anybody at this moment."
Somewhere, a raven cawed.