Post by sidonie on Mar 20, 2011 5:26:19 GMT 10
Title: Low Bending
Rating: R
Word Count: 195
Pairing: Jon/Zahir – Team Bend-a-lot
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: There are precious few times Zahir is silent.
Author's Note: Throughout SMACKDOWN, I'll be posting pieces inspired by quotes and speeches from Shakespeare, because I'm a huge fangirl. They will be for no particular pairing, just whoever seems to fit (though they may be disproportionately J/Z). This series is based on a soliloquy from Henry V, for reasons which should become abundantly clear.
Warnings: We interrupt your regularly scheduled Shakespeare-inspired angsting about the burdens of power to give you . . . um, smut. Lots of it. I couldn't resist; the line was too perfect.
~~~~~~
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
The king often attempted to order Zahir's silence—usually when the biting witticisms became a little too insubordinate—but he rarely achieved it. It was only now, when he trailed kisses down his smooth, dark neck, that the boy was rendered incapable of speech.
“Changed your opinions about progressives?” he murmured, his lips brushing the hollow above Zahir's collarbone.
He was rewarded with a low gasp, a strangled attempt at a reply that was cut short as he pressed closer. No arguments now, no condemnation, just skin against skin, hot breath and flushed cheeks. Jon bit down lightly on his squire's shoulder, drawing a moan that set him on fire.
Still trying to catch his breath, Zahir pulled back. He was always beautiful, this Bazhir youth with the dusky skin and proud features, but now, his black hair disordered, his lips swollen, his brown eyes consumed by dark, overblown pupils, he was perfect. The wry smile that graced his lush mouth hardly helped.
“Whatever my politics, I worship my king,” he finally managed to rasp.
Jon raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Zahir grinned, sliding slowly to the floor. “How else? On bended knee.”
QC by: inthefire
Rating: R
Word Count: 195
Pairing: Jon/Zahir – Team Bend-a-lot
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: There are precious few times Zahir is silent.
Author's Note: Throughout SMACKDOWN, I'll be posting pieces inspired by quotes and speeches from Shakespeare, because I'm a huge fangirl. They will be for no particular pairing, just whoever seems to fit (though they may be disproportionately J/Z). This series is based on a soliloquy from Henry V, for reasons which should become abundantly clear.
Warnings: We interrupt your regularly scheduled Shakespeare-inspired angsting about the burdens of power to give you . . . um, smut. Lots of it. I couldn't resist; the line was too perfect.
~~~~~~
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
The king often attempted to order Zahir's silence—usually when the biting witticisms became a little too insubordinate—but he rarely achieved it. It was only now, when he trailed kisses down his smooth, dark neck, that the boy was rendered incapable of speech.
“Changed your opinions about progressives?” he murmured, his lips brushing the hollow above Zahir's collarbone.
He was rewarded with a low gasp, a strangled attempt at a reply that was cut short as he pressed closer. No arguments now, no condemnation, just skin against skin, hot breath and flushed cheeks. Jon bit down lightly on his squire's shoulder, drawing a moan that set him on fire.
Still trying to catch his breath, Zahir pulled back. He was always beautiful, this Bazhir youth with the dusky skin and proud features, but now, his black hair disordered, his lips swollen, his brown eyes consumed by dark, overblown pupils, he was perfect. The wry smile that graced his lush mouth hardly helped.
“Whatever my politics, I worship my king,” he finally managed to rasp.
Jon raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Zahir grinned, sliding slowly to the floor. “How else? On bended knee.”
QC by: inthefire