I'm a bit hesitant about posting this. It's a thought that's been bouncing through my mind a few days... I hope it's not too horrible.
There are no names, but the identify of one character is really really obvious. The identity of other one... is not even obvious to me.
His opponent intrigued him immediately. He had an aura of beauty and grace, his blade cutting through the air with such precision. His footwork was similarly deliberate and perfect, almost as if it were a dance, and not a battle. Every movement showed that he clearly practiced the use of a sword as art as much as fighting.
The swordsman couldn't have been more than nineteen, with immaculately neat short blue hair and porcelain skin. His form was very lithe, built for speed and precision instead of brute strength. He was fascinating, captivating.
No, the man would not be satisfied just to fight this beautiful artistic combatant. He at first had been dodging, defending, but now decided to take action. He threw a punch, which was predictably dodged, then faked to the right, almost immediately kicking his foot to the left. The sword was knocked out of the boy's hand, clattering to the dirt.
Now the suddenly weapon-less fighter jumped back, eyes darting between his blade and his opponent. He made a move toward the ground, but was countered quickly and had no choice but to dance out of the way.
The man advanced slowly, keeping himself between the swordsman and his weapon. The blue-haired boy, with defiance in his eyes, backed up, matching the pace. He seemed to not notice how close they had gotten to the crumbling stone edifice. That is, until he backed into it, his retreat coming to an abrupt halt.
There was a pause, and then suddenly the man dove. The boy bolted to the side, but was caught by a strong arm around his chest. His attacker spun him around, grabbing his slender wrists and pinning him against the wall, watching as fear flashed through his eyes for the first time.
Finally, the man had a chance to study the beautiful boy in greater detail. He observed his shimmering sapphire eyes, delicate features, soft, pale pink lips. He was like a living doll. A perfect, porcelain doll. He was gazing right back at him, the fear joined by confusion, obviously wondering why they had come to a standstill.
His captive didn't even have time to protest as he quickly leaned in, kissing him roughly. After a brief moment, he released him, observing the absence of fear- confusion now reigned. He smirked.
"I win."