Nightrunner Series (Seregil/Alec)
Jul. 6th, 2007 10:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
toxictattoo.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: Lessons
Author: Jan![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toxictattoo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1240
Summary: Alec practices his poetry skills.
A/N: Prompt: #42. Nightrunner-series, Seregil/Alec: Poetry - "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." .
I don’t take full credit for the awful poem. I had help but she won't claim partial responsibility.
*~*~*
Alec tapped his finger against the elegant curve of his cheekbone, lost in thought as he studied what he’d just written. Feeling a flush of desire racing through his body, Seregil shifted in his lounge by the fire and turned away so he was no longer facing his young lover. The last thing he wanted to do was to distract Alec from his task.
At least, not yet. There was a lesson to be learned here.
…not to mention, Micum was dozing comfortably, stretched out along the couch.
He’d given Alec a sheet of paper and asked him to extemporaneously compose a love poem. A good ‘noble’ of any note would be able to call up any number of love poems and sonnets at will, to charm, seduce or simply to help keep up appearances.
Their last job caught Alec flat-footed and almost failed miserably. Fortunately, their cover story more than made up for the fact, explaining that Alec’s parentage involved a commoner mistress mother and his being raised rather rudely in the countryside and thus, he had not been schooled in the finer pursuits of upper echelon living.
But as soon as they were able to extricate themselves without arousing suspicion and return to Seregil’s villa, he was determined to remedy that slight oversight – hence, now Alec was forced to compose poetry.
“How is this?” Alec said at long last. He put the quill in the inkwell and turned in his chair, holding the parchment up to read his latest.
This roused Micum from his slumber and he snorted before he swiveled around and placed his socked feet on the floor. Bless Micum, willing to suffer along with Seregil, as well as providing the buffer needed to keep Seregil from sweeping Alec up and heading to their bedroom.
Seregil placed his wooden puzzle to the side and turned his attention to Alec.
Alec assumed a pose and his voice rang out clear, even if his reciting sounded stilted.
Spiraling down from the highest mountain peak,
came a magnificent dragon of incandescent fire
that burned so brilliant and beatifically bright.
With its wide, enveloping wings of delight
she soared me through heavens and to the stars
which shone like iridescent diamonds, twinkling
against the inky black of the blanket of night.
They thawed my cold, a heart thought long dead -
and then free from the mundane, she bore me up
where the rainbow blooms bright.
When done, Alec lowered his page and looked expectantly at Seregil and Micum.
The silence was uncomfortably long and it appeared that Alec was not about to let either of them off to hear their thoughts.
Micum carded his fingers through his hair, resting one elbow on a knee. He turned his face to Seregil and spoke through a rictal grin in a low voice, pitched only for Seregil to hear. “Well, are you going to tell him?”
Seregil cleared his throat, shooting Micum a death glare that promised a lifetime of agony if they hadn’t been friends. “I um…well, Alec…that was…” his hand waved in the air and he blinked rapidly while trying to find the right words that didn’t involve ‘horrible, clichéd, dreadful’ or any other similar descriptors.
“And the part…was evocative and…don’t you think so, Micum?”
Looking like he’d been caught where he shouldn’t be, Micum’s eyes widened. “Oh right. Yes. Absolutely. Very much.” He glanced up at the mantel over the fireplace and started, as if he just noticed the time, and grabbed at his boots in a sudden move. “I should probably get back to Watermead. Kari doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Stunned momentarily, mouth hanging open in an incredulous ‘you are not leaving me with this to deal with alone’ expression, Seregil then followed Micum’s line of sight and noticed the clock that normally sat there was missing, having been taken to the shop for repairs.
When he saw Alec’s gaze starting to drift that way, Seregil rose quickly, the movement, he hoped, would bring Alec’s attention back. “O..of course. But must you leave so soon?” Seregil was sure his voice squeaked when he asked.
Micum spared no time in jerking on his boots and fleeing the sitting room, barely using his cane as a matter of fact, toward the door. “Wish I could stay, old friend-”
“You never could lie to me, Micum Cavish,” Seregil warned beneath this breath, certain his friend heard it.
“…but if I want to get back before sundown, I should head out now.”
They collided at the front door and Micum swung it wide before he wheeled around to face Seregil.
“Coward,” Seregil hissed softly.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Alec said solemnly. Seregil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no mistaking the wretched tone in Alec’s voice.
“Good luck,” Micum said and pounded roughly on Seregil’s shoulder before he disappeared around the corner toward the stable.
Seregil silently swore a blue streak at Micum’s desertion. He knew in his heart having the man there would only make things worse but the moral support would have been quite nice. He took a breath and closed the door with a quiet clatch, his hand resting on the wood before he steeled himself to turn and face Alec.
He still wasn’t prepared for the heartbreaking look on Alec’s face as the young man sat there, looking at the parchment before he gingerly placed it aside. “It’s fine, Seregil. I know it’s bad.”
“It’s not…that bad,” Seregil said. He walked slowly over to where Alec sat and sunk to his heels in front of his young lover. There had to be a way to salvage this.
“Really?”
“Well,” Seregil scratched at his head, trying to buy time to figure out how to put it nicely. It didn’t take long to figure out that he could lie, but not convincingly, or be truthful and then patch up the pieces of a fractured young male ego. “Actually, yes,” he said with a laugh. “It is.”
Alec laughed with him. “I’m not a poet. I can do all the other things you’ve taught me,” and he looked up through his bangs to smile at the suddenly realized, but originally unintentional, innuendo, “just not this. Not well, at any rate.”
Taking Alec’s hands in his, Seregil pulled to place a kiss on each scarred knuckle, rubbing after with his thumb. “You’ll learn, talí, just like you have with everything else I’ve shown you.” He smiled and brushed Alec’s hair away from his face. “We’ll just keep practicing.”
“Would you,” Alec lowered his head and looked at Seregil through his lashes, a move that was guaranteed to drive Seregil insane with need – and Alec knew it – “help me practice now?”
Seregil growled low; the sound wolfish and hungry. He rose to his feet and pulled Alec with him, arms sliding around Alec’s trim waist to hold him close. “If that’s what you’d like.”
“I thought we could start with my oratory skills,” Alec said innocently.
The double entendre was enough to snap Seregil’s resolve. And damn if Alec’s acting skills weren’t honed perfectly.
Stepping back, his arms slid away and he caught Alec’s hand. He tugged sharply and headed for the stairs that would bear them up to their room. “You may not be a poet but you certainly have a grasp of language.”
*~*~*~*~*
Author: Jan
toxictattooRating: PG
Word Count: 1240
Summary: Alec practices his poetry skills.
A/N: Prompt: #42. Nightrunner-series, Seregil/Alec: Poetry - "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." .
I don’t take full credit for the awful poem. I had help but she won't claim partial responsibility.
*~*~*
Alec tapped his finger against the elegant curve of his cheekbone, lost in thought as he studied what he’d just written. Feeling a flush of desire racing through his body, Seregil shifted in his lounge by the fire and turned away so he was no longer facing his young lover. The last thing he wanted to do was to distract Alec from his task.
At least, not yet. There was a lesson to be learned here.
…not to mention, Micum was dozing comfortably, stretched out along the couch.
He’d given Alec a sheet of paper and asked him to extemporaneously compose a love poem. A good ‘noble’ of any note would be able to call up any number of love poems and sonnets at will, to charm, seduce or simply to help keep up appearances.
Their last job caught Alec flat-footed and almost failed miserably. Fortunately, their cover story more than made up for the fact, explaining that Alec’s parentage involved a commoner mistress mother and his being raised rather rudely in the countryside and thus, he had not been schooled in the finer pursuits of upper echelon living.
But as soon as they were able to extricate themselves without arousing suspicion and return to Seregil’s villa, he was determined to remedy that slight oversight – hence, now Alec was forced to compose poetry.
“How is this?” Alec said at long last. He put the quill in the inkwell and turned in his chair, holding the parchment up to read his latest.
This roused Micum from his slumber and he snorted before he swiveled around and placed his socked feet on the floor. Bless Micum, willing to suffer along with Seregil, as well as providing the buffer needed to keep Seregil from sweeping Alec up and heading to their bedroom.
Seregil placed his wooden puzzle to the side and turned his attention to Alec.
Alec assumed a pose and his voice rang out clear, even if his reciting sounded stilted.
Spiraling down from the highest mountain peak,
came a magnificent dragon of incandescent fire
that burned so brilliant and beatifically bright.
With its wide, enveloping wings of delight
she soared me through heavens and to the stars
which shone like iridescent diamonds, twinkling
against the inky black of the blanket of night.
They thawed my cold, a heart thought long dead -
and then free from the mundane, she bore me up
where the rainbow blooms bright.
When done, Alec lowered his page and looked expectantly at Seregil and Micum.
The silence was uncomfortably long and it appeared that Alec was not about to let either of them off to hear their thoughts.
Micum carded his fingers through his hair, resting one elbow on a knee. He turned his face to Seregil and spoke through a rictal grin in a low voice, pitched only for Seregil to hear. “Well, are you going to tell him?”
Seregil cleared his throat, shooting Micum a death glare that promised a lifetime of agony if they hadn’t been friends. “I um…well, Alec…that was…” his hand waved in the air and he blinked rapidly while trying to find the right words that didn’t involve ‘horrible, clichéd, dreadful’ or any other similar descriptors.
“And the part…was evocative and…don’t you think so, Micum?”
Looking like he’d been caught where he shouldn’t be, Micum’s eyes widened. “Oh right. Yes. Absolutely. Very much.” He glanced up at the mantel over the fireplace and started, as if he just noticed the time, and grabbed at his boots in a sudden move. “I should probably get back to Watermead. Kari doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Stunned momentarily, mouth hanging open in an incredulous ‘you are not leaving me with this to deal with alone’ expression, Seregil then followed Micum’s line of sight and noticed the clock that normally sat there was missing, having been taken to the shop for repairs.
When he saw Alec’s gaze starting to drift that way, Seregil rose quickly, the movement, he hoped, would bring Alec’s attention back. “O..of course. But must you leave so soon?” Seregil was sure his voice squeaked when he asked.
Micum spared no time in jerking on his boots and fleeing the sitting room, barely using his cane as a matter of fact, toward the door. “Wish I could stay, old friend-”
“You never could lie to me, Micum Cavish,” Seregil warned beneath this breath, certain his friend heard it.
“…but if I want to get back before sundown, I should head out now.”
They collided at the front door and Micum swung it wide before he wheeled around to face Seregil.
“Coward,” Seregil hissed softly.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Alec said solemnly. Seregil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no mistaking the wretched tone in Alec’s voice.
“Good luck,” Micum said and pounded roughly on Seregil’s shoulder before he disappeared around the corner toward the stable.
Seregil silently swore a blue streak at Micum’s desertion. He knew in his heart having the man there would only make things worse but the moral support would have been quite nice. He took a breath and closed the door with a quiet clatch, his hand resting on the wood before he steeled himself to turn and face Alec.
He still wasn’t prepared for the heartbreaking look on Alec’s face as the young man sat there, looking at the parchment before he gingerly placed it aside. “It’s fine, Seregil. I know it’s bad.”
“It’s not…that bad,” Seregil said. He walked slowly over to where Alec sat and sunk to his heels in front of his young lover. There had to be a way to salvage this.
“Really?”
“Well,” Seregil scratched at his head, trying to buy time to figure out how to put it nicely. It didn’t take long to figure out that he could lie, but not convincingly, or be truthful and then patch up the pieces of a fractured young male ego. “Actually, yes,” he said with a laugh. “It is.”
Alec laughed with him. “I’m not a poet. I can do all the other things you’ve taught me,” and he looked up through his bangs to smile at the suddenly realized, but originally unintentional, innuendo, “just not this. Not well, at any rate.”
Taking Alec’s hands in his, Seregil pulled to place a kiss on each scarred knuckle, rubbing after with his thumb. “You’ll learn, talí, just like you have with everything else I’ve shown you.” He smiled and brushed Alec’s hair away from his face. “We’ll just keep practicing.”
“Would you,” Alec lowered his head and looked at Seregil through his lashes, a move that was guaranteed to drive Seregil insane with need – and Alec knew it – “help me practice now?”
Seregil growled low; the sound wolfish and hungry. He rose to his feet and pulled Alec with him, arms sliding around Alec’s trim waist to hold him close. “If that’s what you’d like.”
“I thought we could start with my oratory skills,” Alec said innocently.
The double entendre was enough to snap Seregil’s resolve. And damn if Alec’s acting skills weren’t honed perfectly.
Stepping back, his arms slid away and he caught Alec’s hand. He tugged sharply and headed for the stairs that would bear them up to their room. “You may not be a poet but you certainly have a grasp of language.”
*~*~*~*~*
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Date: 2007-07-08 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2007-10-31 04:04 am (UTC)Brilliant! :D :D :D
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Date: 2009-06-24 07:15 am (UTC)I enjoyed the fic very much. The details of Seregil' and Micum's long-term friendship isn't stated, but it isn't needed; their familiarity is in every word and action. I loved how Seregil, usually such a silver-tongued rogue, fumbled at Alec's inept poetry. The ending was modest, but brings to mind such delicious possibilities.
*Hugs*