Post by Shhasow on Mar 20, 2011 8:16:44 GMT 10
Title: Tradition
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 173
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: A traditional dance of the desert.
“Sit in the chair, Jon,” came the voice from behind the screen.
Jon raised one eyebrow, but seated himself in the comfortable chair. Ooh, it swiveled. His appreciation for the furniture was cut abruptly short when his former-squire slunk out from behind the screen. His appreciation for his former-squire shot through the roof.
He gaped at Zahir, clothed in dozens of translucent multi-colored veils. “Wh-are those bells?” Jon pointed to the silver accessories loosely tied to Zahir’s ankles and wrists. “I thought you were going to show me something traditional.”
“I am,” purred Zahir. “This is a traditional,” his arms traced down his sides, “Bazhir,” now one slid back up over his head, “dance.” He paused, balanced on one foot, one arm gracefully raised above his head and the other arched in front of him.
Jon’s expression of shock began to mix with growing hunger as Zahir’s arm lowered, stripping off one veil. The blue scrap of material floated gently to the floor, where it was soon joined by its brothers and sisters.
QC by: greenie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 173
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: A traditional dance of the desert.
“Sit in the chair, Jon,” came the voice from behind the screen.
Jon raised one eyebrow, but seated himself in the comfortable chair. Ooh, it swiveled. His appreciation for the furniture was cut abruptly short when his former-squire slunk out from behind the screen. His appreciation for his former-squire shot through the roof.
He gaped at Zahir, clothed in dozens of translucent multi-colored veils. “Wh-are those bells?” Jon pointed to the silver accessories loosely tied to Zahir’s ankles and wrists. “I thought you were going to show me something traditional.”
“I am,” purred Zahir. “This is a traditional,” his arms traced down his sides, “Bazhir,” now one slid back up over his head, “dance.” He paused, balanced on one foot, one arm gracefully raised above his head and the other arched in front of him.
Jon’s expression of shock began to mix with growing hunger as Zahir’s arm lowered, stripping off one veil. The blue scrap of material floated gently to the floor, where it was soon joined by its brothers and sisters.
QC by: greenie
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!