Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 29, 2017 4:24:20 GMT 10
Title: Flannel Kisses
Rating: R
Word Count: 1524
Summary: Lerant and Dom celebrate Midwinter under a flannel blanket.
Warnings: Sex, sexual acts, innuendo, and some swearing.
Notes: Inspired by Tamari's "blanket" prompt.
Dedication: To Tamari in thanks for the prompt and with apologies for guttering it.
Flannel Kisses
Lerant knew he should have been around the fires with the men of the Own, sipping mulled cider and singing carols with more enthusiasm than technique. He shouldn’t have been snuggled up under a flannel blanket with the dashing Domitian of Masbolle, but the flannel blanket was so warm and comforting while the outside world was so cold and bleak. There were no white Midwinter snows this far south along the wet, rugged Tortallan coastline, just gray Midwinter sleet and slush that put almost everyone except Lord Raoul, who was overjoyed to be missing balls and banquets with their attendant matchmaking mothers, into a tetchy temper.
“When you write to your mother, be sure to thank her for the blanket.” Lerant referred to the fact that the blanket had been a Midwinter present from Dom’s doting mother as he folded himself closer to Dom’s bare chest. Dom had whispered, nibbling on his ear in a way that made Lerant’s entire body tremble like grass bowing before a strong wind, that Lerant was all he needed to keep him warm when he had slipped off his shirt before sliding under the blanket.
He could hear the hum of Dom’s heartbeat as Dom answered, combing through Lerant’s hair with a carelessness that never failed to make it messier, “Should I tell her that I apparently have a second mother here to remind me of my manners?”
“I just want her to know you’re properly grateful.” Lerant elbowed Dom in the ribcage, eliciting a groan that gave Lerant a lopsided grin. “This blanket is so soft and warm.”
“I could think of softer and warmer things.” Dom’s palms cupped Lerant’s chin.
“Such as?” Lerant arched an eyebrow as he trailed a hand along Dom’s collarbone.
“Your lips.” Dom’s fingers stroked Lerant’s mouth, which twisted ironically at Dom’s clumsy compliment.
“You’re a shameless liar, Dom.” Lerant snorted. “My lips are as chapped as everyone else’s around here.”
“Have you been staring at everybody’s lips?” Dom’s fingers continued to toy with Lerant’s lips, driving Lerant mad with a desire to snap at Dom to stop tormenting him and start kissing him.
“Are you jealous?” Lerant smirked, goading Dom in return. “You shouldn’t be. That’s my family trait, not yours.”
“My family may not be jealous.” Dom’s fingers left Lerant’s lips to pinch at Lerant’s nipples, which were kissed by the flannel of the blanket. The brush of fabric had already stirred them to hardness, but Lerant didn’t feel exposed beneath a blanket. That was why he only let Dom undress him under a blanket. Without a blanket, he would’ve felt too vulnerable, too naked before Dom’s piercing blue eyes. “We’re very greedy and grasping, however.”
“Why should I care about that?” Lerant bit back a gasp as Dom pulled at his nipples.
“Because I want you.” Dom pressed his mouth against Lerant’s, and all Lerant could taste was the spice of mulled cider. “All I want for Midwinter is a kiss or maybe more from you.”
Dom’s tongue tickled Lerant’s lips, and resisting the urge to laugh for fear that it would ruin the moment, Lerant opened his mouth in a wordless surrender. Dom’s tongue took a thorough reconnaissance of his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny, and Lerant couldn’t breathe.
Dom’s hand drifted from Lerant’s chest down to his waist, where his fingers fumbled with the buttons on Lerant’s breeches. Anyone who listened to Dom talk about his flirtations with beautiful ladies would have assumed that he was an accomplished lover, but Lerant had found that he was almost as uncertain and inexperienced as Lerant. They were tentative together, and that was somehow more reassuring to Lerant than if Dom had pretended to have all the answers to every question in their relationship.
While Lerant had been lost in thought, Dom had managed to tug his breeches down to his knees. The flannel scratched at the private part that Dom had just exposed, and he was grateful when Dom’s hand stroked it instead. He came to attention under Dom’s touch, and Dom chuckled in way that would have been mocking from anyone else.
“You’ve an impressive dagger, Lerant, and I’m not talking about the one from Raven Armory.” Dom’s lips abandoned Lerant’s mouth, but, before Lerant could protest this blatant dereliction of duty, they were closing over a place they had never ventured on Lerant. “I think the dagger could use polishing, though. Let me help you with that.”
Lerant always cleaned his weapons himself, but as Dom licked and kissed his length, Lerant was persuaded to make an exception to this rule, because Dom’s tongue made every nerve in his body quiver as if he had been struck by lightning. When he finally released the tension inside him in a salty, silver stream, Dom drank it.
“I polished your dagger.” Dom’s tongue tickled Lerant’s hole, and he moaned. “Will you let me sheathe my sword in you?”
Body at war with his mind, Lerant hesitated. Every irrational part of him ached to have Dom inside of him, but his brain knew that was a bad idea. His family name was mud, but Lerant didn’t want to dirty it even further by conducting what the realm would regard as a sordid affair. Kisses beneath a blanket could be forgiven as the desperation of bored boys frustratingly far away from girls at Midwinter, but what Dom was talking about extended beyond even the broadest definition of kisses…
To buy himself time to think, he said in a shakier voice than he had intended, “I’m a virgin, Dom.”
“And a blushing one too.” Dom’s observation made Lerant flush if he hadn’t been already, but the flame in his face became nothing compared to the one in his hindquarters when Dom squeezed his rump and added playfully, “All your cheeks are burning.”
Bristling at being teased when he was serious, Lerant hissed, “I’m a virgin now, but if I do what you’re asking, people will call me a whore like my dear aunt Delia.”
“Those people would be very wrong.” With a roguish wink, Dom probed at Lerant’s hole with his tongue. Lerant thought about squirming out of reach but Dom’s tongue was too tempting for him to move away from it. “I’m not going to pay you.”
“If I’m not not doing it for money, what in the name of Mithros would I be doing it for, Dom?” Lerant panted. It was a battle to breathe much less speak when Dom’s tongue was being so persuasive.
“For pleasure.” Dom’s tongue pulled out of Lerant’s hole, and he was left feeling hollow and unsatisfied.
“So I’d be less than a whore, not even motivated by profit, just pleasure,” Lerant lashed out with all the fury of denied desire.
“No, you’d be the opposite of a whore.” Dom’s eyes were so gentle that Lerant felt the rough edges within him smoothing. “A whore will take anyone who will pay for the pleasure, but I know that you’ll be faithful to me for as long as we’re together.”
“Of course I’ll be faithful.” Lerant locked his gaze on Dom’s. “I’m not a traitor. That’s my aunt Delia.”
“You’ve got to stop thinking about your aunt Delia when we’re together.” Dom never had much patience when he thought Lerant was indulging in self-pity or petulance. “It’s not very romantic.”
“I live in my aunt Delia’s shadow, and I can’t forget that for a cursed moment.” Lerant glared at Dom, thinking that the smiling sergeant could never understand what it was like to always be dominated by the darkness of a dishonored family name. The stain of tainted blood never washed out, because blood was thicker than water.
“You live in the light, but you can’t see that because you keep your eyes closed.” Dom sighed. “Stop worrying about the people who judge you based on your family name since they’re worth less than dung, and just focus on the opinions of those of us who know and love you.”
“We’re talking love now?” Slyly, Lerant began to unbutton Dom’s breeches. “I thought we were just talking pleasure?”
“I didn’t want to scare you away by talking long-term commitment at first.” Dom was out of his breeches and pushing into Lerant. Lerant was afraid he might break under the pressure of Dom entering him, and he did feel as if he were overflowing as parts inside of him that he never realized were empty became filled. He didn’t break when Dom entered him so much as he became whole.
With Dom inside him, his ugliness became handsomeness, his nakedness was empowering rather than degrading, and everything he kept hidden was exposed and accepted. There was nothing between them, and maybe that was love. If it wasn’t, at the very least it was pleasure enough to rock Lerant’s entire body. As Dom came inside him, he thought that this was the best Midwinter present he had ever received and wondered what Dom’s mother would say if she ever found out what had gone on beneath the flannel blanket she had given him.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1524
Summary: Lerant and Dom celebrate Midwinter under a flannel blanket.
Warnings: Sex, sexual acts, innuendo, and some swearing.
Notes: Inspired by Tamari's "blanket" prompt.
Dedication: To Tamari in thanks for the prompt and with apologies for guttering it.
Flannel Kisses
Lerant knew he should have been around the fires with the men of the Own, sipping mulled cider and singing carols with more enthusiasm than technique. He shouldn’t have been snuggled up under a flannel blanket with the dashing Domitian of Masbolle, but the flannel blanket was so warm and comforting while the outside world was so cold and bleak. There were no white Midwinter snows this far south along the wet, rugged Tortallan coastline, just gray Midwinter sleet and slush that put almost everyone except Lord Raoul, who was overjoyed to be missing balls and banquets with their attendant matchmaking mothers, into a tetchy temper.
“When you write to your mother, be sure to thank her for the blanket.” Lerant referred to the fact that the blanket had been a Midwinter present from Dom’s doting mother as he folded himself closer to Dom’s bare chest. Dom had whispered, nibbling on his ear in a way that made Lerant’s entire body tremble like grass bowing before a strong wind, that Lerant was all he needed to keep him warm when he had slipped off his shirt before sliding under the blanket.
He could hear the hum of Dom’s heartbeat as Dom answered, combing through Lerant’s hair with a carelessness that never failed to make it messier, “Should I tell her that I apparently have a second mother here to remind me of my manners?”
“I just want her to know you’re properly grateful.” Lerant elbowed Dom in the ribcage, eliciting a groan that gave Lerant a lopsided grin. “This blanket is so soft and warm.”
“I could think of softer and warmer things.” Dom’s palms cupped Lerant’s chin.
“Such as?” Lerant arched an eyebrow as he trailed a hand along Dom’s collarbone.
“Your lips.” Dom’s fingers stroked Lerant’s mouth, which twisted ironically at Dom’s clumsy compliment.
“You’re a shameless liar, Dom.” Lerant snorted. “My lips are as chapped as everyone else’s around here.”
“Have you been staring at everybody’s lips?” Dom’s fingers continued to toy with Lerant’s lips, driving Lerant mad with a desire to snap at Dom to stop tormenting him and start kissing him.
“Are you jealous?” Lerant smirked, goading Dom in return. “You shouldn’t be. That’s my family trait, not yours.”
“My family may not be jealous.” Dom’s fingers left Lerant’s lips to pinch at Lerant’s nipples, which were kissed by the flannel of the blanket. The brush of fabric had already stirred them to hardness, but Lerant didn’t feel exposed beneath a blanket. That was why he only let Dom undress him under a blanket. Without a blanket, he would’ve felt too vulnerable, too naked before Dom’s piercing blue eyes. “We’re very greedy and grasping, however.”
“Why should I care about that?” Lerant bit back a gasp as Dom pulled at his nipples.
“Because I want you.” Dom pressed his mouth against Lerant’s, and all Lerant could taste was the spice of mulled cider. “All I want for Midwinter is a kiss or maybe more from you.”
Dom’s tongue tickled Lerant’s lips, and resisting the urge to laugh for fear that it would ruin the moment, Lerant opened his mouth in a wordless surrender. Dom’s tongue took a thorough reconnaissance of his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny, and Lerant couldn’t breathe.
Dom’s hand drifted from Lerant’s chest down to his waist, where his fingers fumbled with the buttons on Lerant’s breeches. Anyone who listened to Dom talk about his flirtations with beautiful ladies would have assumed that he was an accomplished lover, but Lerant had found that he was almost as uncertain and inexperienced as Lerant. They were tentative together, and that was somehow more reassuring to Lerant than if Dom had pretended to have all the answers to every question in their relationship.
While Lerant had been lost in thought, Dom had managed to tug his breeches down to his knees. The flannel scratched at the private part that Dom had just exposed, and he was grateful when Dom’s hand stroked it instead. He came to attention under Dom’s touch, and Dom chuckled in way that would have been mocking from anyone else.
“You’ve an impressive dagger, Lerant, and I’m not talking about the one from Raven Armory.” Dom’s lips abandoned Lerant’s mouth, but, before Lerant could protest this blatant dereliction of duty, they were closing over a place they had never ventured on Lerant. “I think the dagger could use polishing, though. Let me help you with that.”
Lerant always cleaned his weapons himself, but as Dom licked and kissed his length, Lerant was persuaded to make an exception to this rule, because Dom’s tongue made every nerve in his body quiver as if he had been struck by lightning. When he finally released the tension inside him in a salty, silver stream, Dom drank it.
“I polished your dagger.” Dom’s tongue tickled Lerant’s hole, and he moaned. “Will you let me sheathe my sword in you?”
Body at war with his mind, Lerant hesitated. Every irrational part of him ached to have Dom inside of him, but his brain knew that was a bad idea. His family name was mud, but Lerant didn’t want to dirty it even further by conducting what the realm would regard as a sordid affair. Kisses beneath a blanket could be forgiven as the desperation of bored boys frustratingly far away from girls at Midwinter, but what Dom was talking about extended beyond even the broadest definition of kisses…
To buy himself time to think, he said in a shakier voice than he had intended, “I’m a virgin, Dom.”
“And a blushing one too.” Dom’s observation made Lerant flush if he hadn’t been already, but the flame in his face became nothing compared to the one in his hindquarters when Dom squeezed his rump and added playfully, “All your cheeks are burning.”
Bristling at being teased when he was serious, Lerant hissed, “I’m a virgin now, but if I do what you’re asking, people will call me a whore like my dear aunt Delia.”
“Those people would be very wrong.” With a roguish wink, Dom probed at Lerant’s hole with his tongue. Lerant thought about squirming out of reach but Dom’s tongue was too tempting for him to move away from it. “I’m not going to pay you.”
“If I’m not not doing it for money, what in the name of Mithros would I be doing it for, Dom?” Lerant panted. It was a battle to breathe much less speak when Dom’s tongue was being so persuasive.
“For pleasure.” Dom’s tongue pulled out of Lerant’s hole, and he was left feeling hollow and unsatisfied.
“So I’d be less than a whore, not even motivated by profit, just pleasure,” Lerant lashed out with all the fury of denied desire.
“No, you’d be the opposite of a whore.” Dom’s eyes were so gentle that Lerant felt the rough edges within him smoothing. “A whore will take anyone who will pay for the pleasure, but I know that you’ll be faithful to me for as long as we’re together.”
“Of course I’ll be faithful.” Lerant locked his gaze on Dom’s. “I’m not a traitor. That’s my aunt Delia.”
“You’ve got to stop thinking about your aunt Delia when we’re together.” Dom never had much patience when he thought Lerant was indulging in self-pity or petulance. “It’s not very romantic.”
“I live in my aunt Delia’s shadow, and I can’t forget that for a cursed moment.” Lerant glared at Dom, thinking that the smiling sergeant could never understand what it was like to always be dominated by the darkness of a dishonored family name. The stain of tainted blood never washed out, because blood was thicker than water.
“You live in the light, but you can’t see that because you keep your eyes closed.” Dom sighed. “Stop worrying about the people who judge you based on your family name since they’re worth less than dung, and just focus on the opinions of those of us who know and love you.”
“We’re talking love now?” Slyly, Lerant began to unbutton Dom’s breeches. “I thought we were just talking pleasure?”
“I didn’t want to scare you away by talking long-term commitment at first.” Dom was out of his breeches and pushing into Lerant. Lerant was afraid he might break under the pressure of Dom entering him, and he did feel as if he were overflowing as parts inside of him that he never realized were empty became filled. He didn’t break when Dom entered him so much as he became whole.
With Dom inside him, his ugliness became handsomeness, his nakedness was empowering rather than degrading, and everything he kept hidden was exposed and accepted. There was nothing between them, and maybe that was love. If it wasn’t, at the very least it was pleasure enough to rock Lerant’s entire body. As Dom came inside him, he thought that this was the best Midwinter present he had ever received and wondered what Dom’s mother would say if she ever found out what had gone on beneath the flannel blanket she had given him.