WARNINGS: First time fic. Minor slash.
I in no way own Dragon Booster, etc.
Actual word count: 546
Summary: A fight doesn't go the way it normally does between Artha and Moordryd. In a moment, everything changes.
Artha couldn't say how the fight had started exactly. He and Moordryd had been arguing again – despite the mutual agreement to be friends, or at least somewhat civil, it seemed that Moordryd still had no idea how to hold a normal conversation. To make matters worse, he also knew all the right buttons to press to make Artha react.
Neither of them were sure who threw the first blow, though both were fairly certain it was Artha. Not that the dark haired boy would admit to that of course. But they both knew when it had all changed.
They had been fighting, and one had fallen (tripped, Artha insisted) and pulled the other down with him to continue the fight. Once on the ground they'd wrestled for a few minutes, until Moordryd had used his slight height advantage to pin Artha down.
It was then things began to take a different turn. Artha was trapped, with Moordryd stretched over him holding his arms above his head. His knees rested on either side of Artha's thighs. The pale boy had braced himself as best he could, but Artha shifted, causing Moordryd to move one arm to rest it beside his head, dropping slightly closer to Artha as he did so.
He waited for Artha to struggle, but instead the other boy lay silent and still beneath him. It was then Moordryd realised the situation they were in. Their faces were inches apart, sheltered from the outside world by a curtain of white hair. Both were panting and at least one of them was flushed, though whether it was from their tussle or the admittedly compromising position they were in, it was hard to tell.
Unconsciously, Moordryd's hold on the other boy loosened, and before he had time to realise what had happened, Artha had managed to flip him, so now the dark haired boy was on top. For a moment, Moordryd stared up, uncomprehending, when a pair of lips crashed onto his own.
The kiss lasted barely a second before Artha was thrown, hard, against the wall. Moordryd glanced around wildly, trying to see if anyone had seen them. He sighed in relief when he realised that the corridor in which they had been fighting in was empty. His body tensed up again though, when he saw the stable-brat, flushed and pressed against the wall.
Standing slowly, never taking his eyes off his rival, Moordryd moved to stand over him.
'What,' he asked slowly, choosing his words carefully, 'do you think you were doing?'
Artha stared back at him, knowing that this was not a question that required an answer. While he could be thick-headed at times, even Artha could detect the dangerous note in Moordryd's voice.
Snarling at the lack of response, Moordryd aimed a kick at the other boy's side. He smiled viciously when Artha yelped, revelling in the pain he caused, especially when he remembered the damage that had been caused to those same ribs only a few months ago.
'Don't you ever come near me again, do you hear me?' Moordryd hissed. 'Ever.'
With one last kick at Artha's side, Moordryd stormed away, leaving the other to stare after him.
He studiously ignored the way his lips were still tingling as he left.
As I said at the top, this is the first fic I've published. Or close enough.
Any constructive criticism is VERY welcome, as I would like to write more. Can't really stop you from flaming, so flame away if you must.
Either way, thank you for reading.
MAD.