Okay people, listen up. I swear this was a dream I had last night. Actually, I woke up directly from it around 5:30 a.m. I thought 'Holy cow…freaky' and boy was it ever. It was SO freaky that the idea didn't (read: wouldn't) leave me until I sat down at the computer, where I shall now try to tell it to you.
Let's pretend that they are both around 16/17 years of age. (It was too dark in my dream to really see their faces so I'm not sure how old they were in it. [Urk! At least they were both consenting…])
I'm telling you now, that this is a PWP (Plot? What plot?) I have warned you of the pairing, so flames will be laughed at by anyone who reads them, including me.
Anyway, this explanation had gone on too long! On with the 'fic!
P.S. I am no Frances Hodgson Burnett! So, sorry if my writing style is different. Also yorkshirian (Hmm. That's an interesting word) is very hard to write.
Dedicated to Mistress Ribbon. (Sorry for the 2x5 not here yet. I'm thinking about it)
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Colin tossed uneasily in his bed. The wind had begun wuthering around the house over half an hour ago. Now there was a beating of rain against his shuttered windows. He sat up and turned on his lamp as his bedroom door creaked open.
"Turn i' down." Said a very wet Dickon quietly. Colin did so.
"I didn't think you would come!" Colin said, emerging from the bedclothes. He hurried over to the fireplace where a dwindling fire was glowing softly. "I'll stoke the fire."
"Not come?" Dickon's voice was puzzled. Colin built up the fire so that it was cheerily warm. "Why wouldna come?" Asked Dickon as he sat down by the fire, wrapped up in one of Colin's robes.
"It's a storm out there."
"Eh! It only started when I reached th' manor!" Dickon grinned as he reached out his hands towards the fire.
"Did you have trouble getting in?" Colin wondered scooting closer to Dickon and the fire. His nightgown was not the ideal protection against the winter chill.
"None at all." Dickon grinned.
Colin laughed a little. "That robe doesn't fit you!" Colin watched as the sleeves tightened against developed biceps and slid up wards towards Dickon's elbows. Colin smiled. He'd never grown as tall or as large as Dickon. Colin shivered violently. Even though the fire was warm, the room had yet to warm up.
"Tha's not as large as me." Dickon said, taking Colin in his arms.
"At least not in the places where it counts." Colin glanced down at the feel of soft velvet against his leg. Dickon chuckled a full, hearty sound.
"Tha' i' true." Dickon amended.
Colin smiled as he gently pulled some of the burgundy robe away from Dickon's leg. He traced the muscles with a finger, making Dickon jump more than once. Colin grinned as his eyes swept upward. Dickon hadn't tied the robe closed very well.
"Eh! That's enow." Dickon gasped as Colin traced a finger up his thigh.
"You honestly didn't come here to tuck me into bed, Dickon." Colin said, drawing one if the soft strings that held the robe tied slowly.
"No." Dickon gulped.
"Well, then. Stop being so modest." Colin cupped one hand over Dickon's jaw and kissed him.
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A little warning. The rest is the graphic stuff. So read on or flame me. ^_^
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Dickon reciprocated by sliding his hand under the nightgown to stroke Colin's thigh. Colin trembled against him as Dickon's hand traveled further up.
"Dickon!" Colin gasped as he broke the kiss.
"What?" Dickon grinned, moving his hand ever upward.
"I - you…" Colin broke of into a cry of indignation as Dickon removed his hand. His eyes were twinkling.
"Thee…?" Dickon prompted. In the silence, he built up the fire some. Colin reached over him and slid the loose robe back over his shoulders. Dickon shivered as Colin kissed his neck.
"I want to be in control tonight."
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Somewhere else in the house…
Mr. Craven sat up in bed as a particularly loud crash of thunder sounded. He got out of bed and pulled on a robe. He would check on the children, just in case they were frightened.
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Colin lapped at one of Dickon's nipples.
"Colin." Dickon said unevenly.
"Mmm?"
"I canna stoke th' fire when tha' does that." Dickon combed his fingers through Colin's hair.
"The fire be damned." Colin said kissing his way up Dickon's chest. He moaned against Dickon's neck as Dickon drew his hands over his back, following his spine.
His nightgown had been discarded next to the robe and they had moved closer to the dying fire. Dickon pushed him away for a moment and stood. He swept Colin up into his arms and with efficient steps, deposited him on the bed.
Colin giggled as Dickon lay down and rolled Colin on top of him.
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I can't finish the descriptions, as my dream didn't get that far. Honest. E-mail me about my other dream where the exact same thing happened.
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Mr. Craven strode from Mary's room. She was fast asleep. Next was his son. His beloved child who had lived after all.
As he approached the corridor, the rain slackened and only the wuthering wind moaned around the manor. He paused at the door and looked down. The carpet was damp. He glanced up for signs of a leak. Nothing. He head snapped down at the sound of a moan.
The door was ajar and weak light was pouring through it. Mr. Craven opened the door and walked silently into the room. The door to Colin's bedchamber was open too. The light emanated from there. As well as muffled moans.
Mr. Craven was no fool. He strode forward to see just who was having sex with his son. As he approached the door, the noises stopped. He burst through the door to see Colin standing in the middle of the room, in his nightgown and robe, staring at him open - mouthed. There was no one else in the room.
"Father!" Colin cried. He silently thanked God* for endowing Dickon with wonderful hearing as well as other things.
Mr. Craven flushed. He'd caught his son doing something very private.
"I-I just w-wanted to mak-ke sure you w-were all right in the storm." Mr. Craven mumbled.
"I'm fine." Colin said, breathing hard. He'd never come quite so quickly nor had ever gotten dressed so fast. Dickon had swept up his damp clothes and dived under the bed just as the door had swung open.
"Good night." Mr. Craven left hastily.
"That were close." Dickon whispered as the outer door slammed. He crept out from under the bed.
"Dickon. I propose we meet in another room next time." Colin said.
"Or p'raps lock the doors."
"Agreed. Come back to bed."
"No. I walked here. I have to get back 'ome."
"At least stay until your clothes are dry?" Colin pleaded.
"Canna. I've told mother about us. She'd worry." Dickon pulled on his shirt and pants, picking up his shoes. Colin went to his closet and drew out a long warm coat.
"Take this and return it the next time." Colin held it out.
"Thank you." Dickon took it and put it on. He kissed Colin. "I'll return."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"So soon?" Colin wondered. It was usually two weeks at the most until Dickon came at night again.
"I ha' to help Mary with her art for that contest."
"Will you stay?"
"No. I'll be sore, an' Mother would worry an' Martha would suspect." Colin led Dickon to the door.
"Tomorrow, then."
And Dickon left.
Ooookaaaaay…that didn't turn out like the dream. Not most of it anyway, I embellished the end a bit. And…it wasn't exactly a PWP like in my dream. Sorry folks.
Now that you've reached the end, feel free to flame me. Or praise me. ^_^
*Not taken in fun or in vain or anything…