FIC: Sir Dinadan Converts The Heathen
Title: Sir Dinadan Converts The Heathen
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Dinadan
Rating: ...R? But a wimpy R. Sex talk, no descriptions.
Words: 100
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: An edifying tale.
Notes/Warnings: Technically it's Old Icelandic. Feel free to call the Extinct Dialects Police.
"Oh, God, Jesus that's good--"
"Hark at him," breathlessly. "Now there's a subject: How Sir Dinadan, With A Well-Timed Suck, Converted The Heathen Norseman."
"God-- damn your hide. Do I look Norse?"
"Well, in this light... or lack of it..."
"Very clever," crossly. "I'm Orkney born, not bred. My mother's Cornish."
"And your father the truest Briton of all."
"...I like your mouth better when it isn't talking."
"Touchy bastard."
"I'll touch you in half a minute, and not the way you-- oh, Jesus."
"...Couldn't you pretend to be a Norseman? For the sake of the ballad?"
"Skítkarl!"
"Thank you."
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Dinadan
Rating: ...R? But a wimpy R. Sex talk, no descriptions.
Words: 100
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: An edifying tale.
Notes/Warnings: Technically it's Old Icelandic. Feel free to call the Extinct Dialects Police.
"Oh, God, Jesus that's good--"
"Hark at him," breathlessly. "Now there's a subject: How Sir Dinadan, With A Well-Timed Suck, Converted The Heathen Norseman."
"God-- damn your hide. Do I look Norse?"
"Well, in this light... or lack of it..."
"Very clever," crossly. "I'm Orkney born, not bred. My mother's Cornish."
"And your father the truest Briton of all."
"...I like your mouth better when it isn't talking."
"Touchy bastard."
"I'll touch you in half a minute, and not the way you-- oh, Jesus."
"...Couldn't you pretend to be a Norseman? For the sake of the ballad?"
"Skítkarl!"
"Thank you."