poisonangel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
poisonangel) wrote2008-06-07 09:11 am
poisonangel) wrote2008-06-07 09:11 am
Entry tags:
[Fic] Crashing, PG-13 (Gwendal/Gunter)
Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
poisonangel7
Characters/Pairings: Gwendal/Gunter
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Any Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kkm_challenge. Prompt: 500 words. Set in the past.
“It might be best to curse your uncle’s name with your door closed, Sir von Walde.”
Gwendal’s brow tightened at the smooth voice coming from his chamber’s doorway. He was not pleased to have been caught grumbling quite loudly to himself about Stoffel’s latest political manipulation, nor was he in any mood for company. “I am not a child anymore, Sir von Christ,” he snapped rudely, “I don’t need your guidance.”
The older man smiled easily and took a step into the room and pushed the door closed behind him as if Gwendal had simply been exchanging pleasantries with him or inviting him in for a meeting. “Of course not. Then, perhaps I might serve you in an advisory capacity this evening.”
With a bit of a huff, the young prince turned to look out his window. It was better than watching another insincere smile. There were enough of those in the throne room. “What makes you think I need advice?”
The expert swordsman stepped closer, placing a hand on Gwendal’s shoulder which tensed noticeably at the touch. He removed the hand and spoke in a softer tone. “You are not the only one troubled by recent events.”
Gunter’s long fingers once again took rest upon the young man, this time on his wrist. Gwendal tried to jerk his hand away, but he found himself restrained. He turned away from the window to look at his brother’s teacher in surprise. The man’s hold was strong but gentle and there was no trace of malice in his violet eyes.
Before the prince had time to formulate a thought into spoken word his lips were upon Gunter’s. He had intended to shout at the man to unhand him. The change in his plan was unexpected and confusing and…unbelievably pleasant.
Once initiated he wasn’t sure how to stop what he’d put in motion. One moment they were standing at the window linked and the next they were upon his bed with articles of clothing strewn haphazardly over the floor.
The younger man was inexperienced and determined not to show it which pushed him to continue their unlikely joining. They were a tangle of limbs and he found himself groping blindly, hoping to nail down a rhythm. Lavender hair fanned out across the sage sheets and a breathless Gunter gazed upward at him, equally surprised and just as intent not to ask any questions about the situation.
Fumbling toward some greater end, an arm reached over to extinguish the lamp, but clumsily knocked it to the floor loudly.
Gwendal sat up with a start after the crash which occurred when he flung his arm outward in his sleep. His heart had quickened and his breath was coming faster as the vivid dream began to recede from his mind.
Slowly, he laid himself down and silently swore never to eat another of Wolfram’s experimental sandwiches before bed again. Closing his eyes he searched for sleep again.
…Maybe it wasn’t too late to finish the dream.
poisonangel7Characters/Pairings: Gwendal/Gunter
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Any Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Written for
kkm_challenge. Prompt: 500 words. Set in the past.“It might be best to curse your uncle’s name with your door closed, Sir von Walde.”
Gwendal’s brow tightened at the smooth voice coming from his chamber’s doorway. He was not pleased to have been caught grumbling quite loudly to himself about Stoffel’s latest political manipulation, nor was he in any mood for company. “I am not a child anymore, Sir von Christ,” he snapped rudely, “I don’t need your guidance.”
The older man smiled easily and took a step into the room and pushed the door closed behind him as if Gwendal had simply been exchanging pleasantries with him or inviting him in for a meeting. “Of course not. Then, perhaps I might serve you in an advisory capacity this evening.”
With a bit of a huff, the young prince turned to look out his window. It was better than watching another insincere smile. There were enough of those in the throne room. “What makes you think I need advice?”
The expert swordsman stepped closer, placing a hand on Gwendal’s shoulder which tensed noticeably at the touch. He removed the hand and spoke in a softer tone. “You are not the only one troubled by recent events.”
Gunter’s long fingers once again took rest upon the young man, this time on his wrist. Gwendal tried to jerk his hand away, but he found himself restrained. He turned away from the window to look at his brother’s teacher in surprise. The man’s hold was strong but gentle and there was no trace of malice in his violet eyes.
Before the prince had time to formulate a thought into spoken word his lips were upon Gunter’s. He had intended to shout at the man to unhand him. The change in his plan was unexpected and confusing and…unbelievably pleasant.
Once initiated he wasn’t sure how to stop what he’d put in motion. One moment they were standing at the window linked and the next they were upon his bed with articles of clothing strewn haphazardly over the floor.
The younger man was inexperienced and determined not to show it which pushed him to continue their unlikely joining. They were a tangle of limbs and he found himself groping blindly, hoping to nail down a rhythm. Lavender hair fanned out across the sage sheets and a breathless Gunter gazed upward at him, equally surprised and just as intent not to ask any questions about the situation.
Fumbling toward some greater end, an arm reached over to extinguish the lamp, but clumsily knocked it to the floor loudly.
Gwendal sat up with a start after the crash which occurred when he flung his arm outward in his sleep. His heart had quickened and his breath was coming faster as the vivid dream began to recede from his mind.
Slowly, he laid himself down and silently swore never to eat another of Wolfram’s experimental sandwiches before bed again. Closing his eyes he searched for sleep again.
…Maybe it wasn’t too late to finish the dream.