Post by Alliecat on Dec 10, 2010 15:50:47 GMT 10
To: Cass
Message: I’ve been on the, err, different pairings bandwagon lately, and when I saw your first request I just had to try it! I hope this lives up to your expectations!
From: Allie
Title: Ongoing Flames
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1- Roger/Alanna
Summary: Alanna is here, there, but Roger is always inbetween.
I.
At the end of the lesson, Alanna stands to leave the room with the rest up the pages. She is nearly at the door when a voice halts her and she turns to see Duke Roger looking up from his paperwork. “Trebond, may I see you for a moment?”
It is a simple request, so mundane that Alanna can hardly refuse without serious disrespect.
She nods, silently, eyes on his forehead because his gaze feels ominious and sharp, yet for no reason. Roger’s eyes flicker, but he continues, “Excellent. If we could meet in my office, perhaps? This way, please.” Roger rises and leaves the room, without checking to see if his student has begun to follow. Alanna hurries after him, curiosity mingling with her confirmed fear of the Duke. The two walk through empty hallways in complete silence, and even the gentle clattering of footsteps rests with the weight of precariously perched boulders.
Duke Roger arrives at an unmarked door and selects a key from a large ring. The door swings open, revealing not the luxurious rooms of the King’s close relative, but a damp and dingy closet for the servants’ use.
“Sir?” Alanna questions, wiping her sweaty hands on the sides of her tunic. “Are you–”
“Yes.” Roger’s voice is cold and unwavering. “Inside, please.” Alanna glances down the long and still barren hallway. It is an hour that is typically bustling, for all the servants would be preparing for dinner, yet there is no noise. Duke Roger moves to obstruct her view and says once more, “Inside. Now.” Alanna stumbles into the room and Roger, now holding a single lit candle, follows her inside.
II.
He is standing incredibly close, with his breath moving across her face and his arms brushing hers. It is improperly close, Alanna understands, but she subconsciously steps closer. Roger reaches down and clasps his hands around her face. He pulls her upward onto her toes and kisses her momentarily and surprisingly gently. Alanna eases back onto the heels of her feet, though she places her hand on Roger’s shoulder.
Roger ducks his head and murmurs into her hair, “There is power in your veins, and I will have it. It will be in my hands, in my grasp, and it will be mine.”
His words and their meanings are lost on Alanna, but she obediently whispers, “I am yours.” She pushes closer, her mind fuzzy with lust, and Roger pulls her up for another kiss.
He pushes and pulls on her harder now, with no intended brevity. Finally he releases and Alanna gasps, lungs, heart, brain burning. She reaches up again and dives into his fire.
III.
He lunges forward and grabs the front of her shirt, as if he intends to rip straight from her body, with every seam popping and fibers exploding. An omnipotent wave of longing rips through her, and she wants nothing more than to lie beside him. Her attention elsewhere, Alanna’s balance fails and she stumbles backwards with the force of the sudden contact.
Her mind scrambles as her body, with its disconnect, fails to grip the floor steadily. She steps further backwards and slams into the wall with an audible crack. Roger readjusts his grasp on her and hauls her closer.
Pain emanates from her bruised head and she twists from Roger in search for relief. He tugs on her tunic with more power so that her weight is situated precariously on her toes. Fabric digs into her skin and she moans inadvertently. Clarity burns into her brain and with it comes understandings of danger. She wobbles, but does not dare test his temperament with a refusal of will.
Roger leers at her, and she stares back though he remains unaffected. With his free hand, he strokes the side of her face. She attempts to appear entranced with Roger as she was before, but the enchantment is broken and her repulsion has returned.
Distrust and temptation flicker across Roger’s gaze. He lowers Alanna to the ground and she sighs nearly inaudibly, but the relief is momentary. He pulls her against him and kisses her hotly with fire and desire spitting through the air.
The temptation, the lust begins to lap at the edges of Alanna’s vision and she tries to inhale but cannot. Roger smiles against her lips before pulling back and inspecting his prey. He places his fingers below her chin and brings her gaze to meet his, though before he can move further the clock chimes.
Roger steps away from Alanna, whose trembling worsens from lack of support, and murmurs, “You should return to your rooms. Dinner is in forty minutes.”
Alanna wanders from the room, confusing carrying into every sense.
IV.
“Alan!”
“Wh-what?” Blearily, Alanna looks up from her plate and notices the numerous faces peering at her. “I didn’t sleep last night,” she mutters.
“There’s more,” Jon protests. “I know what you look like exhausted. Something else is wrong.”
Alanna stands with her plate. “There’s no problem,” she says, “It’s all over. I’m fine.” She turns to leave, and when Gary’s hand brushes her collar she dismisses him with the shake of a head. She returns to her rooms, the same phrases ringing in her head.
V.
Two weeks later, Alanna returns to the closet once more, though she is alone. He is waiting for her.
It is far from over.
Message: I’ve been on the, err, different pairings bandwagon lately, and when I saw your first request I just had to try it! I hope this lives up to your expectations!
From: Allie
Title: Ongoing Flames
Rating: PG-13
Wishlist Item: #1- Roger/Alanna
Summary: Alanna is here, there, but Roger is always inbetween.
I.
At the end of the lesson, Alanna stands to leave the room with the rest up the pages. She is nearly at the door when a voice halts her and she turns to see Duke Roger looking up from his paperwork. “Trebond, may I see you for a moment?”
It is a simple request, so mundane that Alanna can hardly refuse without serious disrespect.
She nods, silently, eyes on his forehead because his gaze feels ominious and sharp, yet for no reason. Roger’s eyes flicker, but he continues, “Excellent. If we could meet in my office, perhaps? This way, please.” Roger rises and leaves the room, without checking to see if his student has begun to follow. Alanna hurries after him, curiosity mingling with her confirmed fear of the Duke. The two walk through empty hallways in complete silence, and even the gentle clattering of footsteps rests with the weight of precariously perched boulders.
Duke Roger arrives at an unmarked door and selects a key from a large ring. The door swings open, revealing not the luxurious rooms of the King’s close relative, but a damp and dingy closet for the servants’ use.
“Sir?” Alanna questions, wiping her sweaty hands on the sides of her tunic. “Are you–”
“Yes.” Roger’s voice is cold and unwavering. “Inside, please.” Alanna glances down the long and still barren hallway. It is an hour that is typically bustling, for all the servants would be preparing for dinner, yet there is no noise. Duke Roger moves to obstruct her view and says once more, “Inside. Now.” Alanna stumbles into the room and Roger, now holding a single lit candle, follows her inside.
II.
He is standing incredibly close, with his breath moving across her face and his arms brushing hers. It is improperly close, Alanna understands, but she subconsciously steps closer. Roger reaches down and clasps his hands around her face. He pulls her upward onto her toes and kisses her momentarily and surprisingly gently. Alanna eases back onto the heels of her feet, though she places her hand on Roger’s shoulder.
Roger ducks his head and murmurs into her hair, “There is power in your veins, and I will have it. It will be in my hands, in my grasp, and it will be mine.”
His words and their meanings are lost on Alanna, but she obediently whispers, “I am yours.” She pushes closer, her mind fuzzy with lust, and Roger pulls her up for another kiss.
He pushes and pulls on her harder now, with no intended brevity. Finally he releases and Alanna gasps, lungs, heart, brain burning. She reaches up again and dives into his fire.
III.
He lunges forward and grabs the front of her shirt, as if he intends to rip straight from her body, with every seam popping and fibers exploding. An omnipotent wave of longing rips through her, and she wants nothing more than to lie beside him. Her attention elsewhere, Alanna’s balance fails and she stumbles backwards with the force of the sudden contact.
Her mind scrambles as her body, with its disconnect, fails to grip the floor steadily. She steps further backwards and slams into the wall with an audible crack. Roger readjusts his grasp on her and hauls her closer.
Pain emanates from her bruised head and she twists from Roger in search for relief. He tugs on her tunic with more power so that her weight is situated precariously on her toes. Fabric digs into her skin and she moans inadvertently. Clarity burns into her brain and with it comes understandings of danger. She wobbles, but does not dare test his temperament with a refusal of will.
Roger leers at her, and she stares back though he remains unaffected. With his free hand, he strokes the side of her face. She attempts to appear entranced with Roger as she was before, but the enchantment is broken and her repulsion has returned.
Distrust and temptation flicker across Roger’s gaze. He lowers Alanna to the ground and she sighs nearly inaudibly, but the relief is momentary. He pulls her against him and kisses her hotly with fire and desire spitting through the air.
The temptation, the lust begins to lap at the edges of Alanna’s vision and she tries to inhale but cannot. Roger smiles against her lips before pulling back and inspecting his prey. He places his fingers below her chin and brings her gaze to meet his, though before he can move further the clock chimes.
Roger steps away from Alanna, whose trembling worsens from lack of support, and murmurs, “You should return to your rooms. Dinner is in forty minutes.”
Alanna wanders from the room, confusing carrying into every sense.
IV.
“Alan!”
“Wh-what?” Blearily, Alanna looks up from her plate and notices the numerous faces peering at her. “I didn’t sleep last night,” she mutters.
“There’s more,” Jon protests. “I know what you look like exhausted. Something else is wrong.”
Alanna stands with her plate. “There’s no problem,” she says, “It’s all over. I’m fine.” She turns to leave, and when Gary’s hand brushes her collar she dismisses him with the shake of a head. She returns to her rooms, the same phrases ringing in her head.
V.
Two weeks later, Alanna returns to the closet once more, though she is alone. He is waiting for her.
It is far from over.