Post by Muse on Jul 1, 2011 14:15:27 GMT 10
Title: Taking Advantage
Rating: R
Couple/Character: Roger/Thom
Event: 4x100 word relay
Words: 400
Summary: They don't just play a game, they don't take chances; they weigh the opposition and all bets are off.
Greed:
Hands wander, skittering over back and sharp shoulder blades, sliding against skin and grabbing, grasping, pulling closer, closer--
Stone jabs into his shine--the wall--and he is held there, body to body, thigh to thigh, hips to hips, chest to chest.
Roger’s hands circle Thom’s wrists, pinning the slighter mage. His lips capture Thom’s mouth ruthlessly, and Thom lets him, laughing triumphantly into the other man’s kiss. He has it, has everything. Thom relishes the press of Roger’s body on his own, and glories in the knowledge that Roger won’t even put up a fight as Thom takes all of him.
Envy:
Roger left Carthak because he was no longer the center of everyone’s attention.
No, now that puny imbecile Draper had the emperor wrapped around his finger, and Roger would play second best to no one.
No one.
He returned, and regained his place in the center of Court until one young man arrived.
Roger plays second best to no one.
Not even this violet eyed upstart, with his violet magic, that deep, vast power that Roger craves...
Roger’s fingers slide through copper strands, tugging Thom’s head back. If he can’t have the power, he’ll claim Thom with rough, searing kisses.
Pride:
Thom’s grin bordered on savage, his eyes alight as he studied his handiwork.
Yes, this was all very well and good, very good indeed, and it had been so easy. Thom had accomplished it with little effort at all. Nothing, it seemed, was very difficult for him at all anymore...
The noise that broke the silence in the room was hardly more than a whimper.
Could it be that Roger, the great and mighty sorcerer, lay before him--pleading?
Oh, simply watching was too much, too rich, and Thom’s self satisfied smirk had the great Conte Duke crashing to his knees.
Lust:
Desire was a pretty word, a dainty delicate word that brought lesser men down, a word that weakened and ruined men until they were good for nothing more than warming sheets.
Roger did not desire; foolish emotions had no place in his twisted heart.
But he sought--no, lusted--after power; a man who had power would never be weak.
Insatiable lust kept him alive long past when his heart should have stopped.
Insatiable lust woke him when dry, chapped lips pressed hotly on his own, and this driving hunger pulled Thom down onto the funeral bier when Roger reopened his eyes.
Rating: R
Couple/Character: Roger/Thom
Event: 4x100 word relay
Words: 400
Summary: They don't just play a game, they don't take chances; they weigh the opposition and all bets are off.
Greed:
Hands wander, skittering over back and sharp shoulder blades, sliding against skin and grabbing, grasping, pulling closer, closer--
Stone jabs into his shine--the wall--and he is held there, body to body, thigh to thigh, hips to hips, chest to chest.
Roger’s hands circle Thom’s wrists, pinning the slighter mage. His lips capture Thom’s mouth ruthlessly, and Thom lets him, laughing triumphantly into the other man’s kiss. He has it, has everything. Thom relishes the press of Roger’s body on his own, and glories in the knowledge that Roger won’t even put up a fight as Thom takes all of him.
Envy:
Roger left Carthak because he was no longer the center of everyone’s attention.
No, now that puny imbecile Draper had the emperor wrapped around his finger, and Roger would play second best to no one.
No one.
He returned, and regained his place in the center of Court until one young man arrived.
Roger plays second best to no one.
Not even this violet eyed upstart, with his violet magic, that deep, vast power that Roger craves...
Roger’s fingers slide through copper strands, tugging Thom’s head back. If he can’t have the power, he’ll claim Thom with rough, searing kisses.
Pride:
Thom’s grin bordered on savage, his eyes alight as he studied his handiwork.
Yes, this was all very well and good, very good indeed, and it had been so easy. Thom had accomplished it with little effort at all. Nothing, it seemed, was very difficult for him at all anymore...
The noise that broke the silence in the room was hardly more than a whimper.
Could it be that Roger, the great and mighty sorcerer, lay before him--pleading?
Oh, simply watching was too much, too rich, and Thom’s self satisfied smirk had the great Conte Duke crashing to his knees.
Lust:
Desire was a pretty word, a dainty delicate word that brought lesser men down, a word that weakened and ruined men until they were good for nothing more than warming sheets.
Roger did not desire; foolish emotions had no place in his twisted heart.
But he sought--no, lusted--after power; a man who had power would never be weak.
Insatiable lust kept him alive long past when his heart should have stopped.
Insatiable lust woke him when dry, chapped lips pressed hotly on his own, and this driving hunger pulled Thom down onto the funeral bier when Roger reopened his eyes.