Another chapter up? Why yes! The promised ficlet has been produced, and I
even neglected my other long-term fic-fic to do it. Why? Because I love you
people, that's why.
Sturm/Rastlin has somehow become my main ship, so there we go, but I'll try
to change things up a bit.
Oh, one more thing, this does coincide with "Between a Rock and a Hard
Solamnic."
Right. Fic now.
Special Thanks to: Inka Lakhala, she's teh kewlies
By a Thread
This, Rastlin reflected, was exactly why you didn't hang about Solamnic knights whilst doing Delicate or Important Things. They managed to mislead your friends and idiotic family members, send everyone off and then leave you in a helpless position.
"Brightblade, please untie me." Raistlin said, doing his best to imitate the pleasing dulcet tones his sister had used when they were younger to talk her way out of trouble.
Apparently he either failed, or the boy-who-would-be-knight was immune to such entreaty; the response was a curt,
"No."
Kitiara never had been useful for anything, anyway.
Raistlin really had very little control over his temper. Years with Caramon, who would take any verbal assault with a smile, had left him with no need to check his tongue so, when displeased, Raistlin abruptly found he could go from pleading to abusive quite abruptly.
"You staggeringly idiotic plebian, you and I both know that I am in no way, shape or form possessed by anything but the desire to immolate you and your pretensions. I swear there will be nothing but a smear of your smirking visage if you do not desist and untie me immediately."
Raistlin paused for breath and then groaned internally. One did not, as a rule, insult and then threaten the life of the one person who held the power to untie you or leave you to freeze on a big ugly tree.
Apparently, approximately the same thoughts were running through the Solamnic in question's head, as he gave Raistlin a more pronounced smirk. Raistlin felt this was deeply unfair. He had always been under the impression that if you meant to smirk, sneer or snarl (any of the "s" expressions, really) at someone, you had to be evil. Brightblade was playing it both ways, and it was cheap.
"Majere, is your mouth connected to your brain at all?"
Good question. Raistlin, not trusting his brain or his mouth in this particular situation, settled on glaring and seething silently.
Brightblade smiled and then did something even less noble. He began to gloat. (You couldn't glare, gloat or grimace unless you were slightly evil either. None of the "s" or "g" expressions, Raistlin decided. If you were good and you did then you were cheating.)
"So you see, Majere, my plan worked perfectly. You are now helpless at my mercy, and no-one will miss you for at least another hour."
Raistlin narrowed his eyes and hissed. "You'll never get away with this."
Sturm tossed his head back and laughed madly. He managed to choke out, "Don't you see, foolish mage, I already have!" in between snorts. Moments like these made life worth living.
Raistlin decided his best option was to stall. "What do you plan to do with me, then?"
Strum stopped cackling and abruptly blushed a rather violent red. "Er, well, you see- Do you remember the last time we were, a-alone?"
Raistlin blushed too. "Of course I do," he hissed. Then, with an expression of dawning alarm, "You're not going to, er, you know, again?"
Sturm turned an even more violent red. "Certainly not! I just wanted to be sure that you understood that I was - teaching you a lesson last time. I'm not like, ah, 'that'."
Raistlin blinked. "You mean to say that you convinced everyone that a light spell was, in fact, the sign of demonic possession, sent my brother away and tied me to a tree just to tell me that you didn't mean anything by kissing me?"
Sturm nodded. "Yes, that's pretty much it."
"You couldn't have just taken me aside?"
Sturm shuffled his feet and looked mildly sheepish. "I do suppose I could have just done that. Now that you mention it."
Raistlin took a deep calming breath, trying to continue to keep his cool. Sturm still could leave him hanging (quite literally), if he upset him enough.
"Do you want to untie me now, Brightblade?"
Strum seemed to deflate. "Yeah, okay." This had ended up being a good bit more anti-climatic than he had expected somehow.
Grabbing a knife from his belt, he went to work on the tight ropes binding Raistlin, who squirmed uncomfortably in his bonds. After almost taking off a finger for the third time, Sturm snapped his head up and glared at Raistlin.
"Would you stop mov-" The mage's face was a lot closer to his own than he had expected. And Majere was worrying his thin lower lip, making it look slicker, redder and fuller than usual. "Oh," Rastlin said faintly, blushing rather prettily.
"Er," said Sturm. And then he promptly gave up.
He leaned in slightly, putting his weight on the body under him. Majere gasped slightly and Sturm pressed his lips against the soft, wet ones of the tied-up mage. Raistlin made a little "ah" sound and moved forward, parting his lips slightly and inhaling the woods-smell paired with Sturm's leather-and-arousal scent, which was musky and almost tangible on the tip of his tongue. This was not someone he was supposed to be kissing, and the wild insanity of it made his head spin.
Raistlin leaned up against the tree and whimpered softly, and Sturm took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Raistlin's mouth, lazily stroking and tickling the mage's palate, causing the smaller man to moan helplessly against him. The two broke apart, gasping, and Sturm spread small open- mouthed kisses down Raistlin's throat, tugging at the white robes to expose a pale collarbone. Raistlin made soft little pleading noises and breathed half-coherent encouragement at the Solamnic tracing the hollow of his throat with a hot tongue before moving back up to nibble at Raistlin's bottom lip.
The mage suddenly stiffened and whispered, "Footsteps," rather breathlessly. Sturm groaned and pulled himself away from the quivering form beneath him.
Sure enough, loud footsteps were crunching in their direction.
"Blast," Sturm muttered, tugging Raistlin's robes up to cover several mouth shaped marks that were already purpling. He tried, and failed, to ignore the pang of loss he felt, and concentrated on making himself presentable as the figures of Caramon and Flint became visible between the trees.
"Ahem. I actually found a way to cure him," Sturm said, motioning behind him and pretending he didn't sound pathetic. Raistlin snorted. Caramon grinned at them both.
"I'll just untie the mage now, shall I? You two go on back. I'm terribly sorry that you had to walk all the way back here again."
Flint grunted and turned around, muttering about being too old for this. Caramon smiled again and stood in place. "I don't mind waiting for you," he grinned at his brother.
"Caramon. Go. Now." Raistlin snapped. Caramon looked hurt, his smile faltering and failing on his face. He turned slowly around, heading in the other direction.
Sturm and Raistlin stared at each other.
"Perhaps you might untie me now?" Rastlin said, arching an eyebrow.
Sturm looked startled and nodded quickly, going to work on the ropes. This time, Raistlin managed to hold still.
When he had finished untying the mage, Sturm helped him to his feet like the conscientious knight he was. There was an awkward pause.
Raistlin finally broke it. "Not like 'that' my ass."
"Oh, just shut it." Sturm groaned.
It was a long, quiet walk back to Solace.
Right. Fic now.
Special Thanks to: Inka Lakhala, she's teh kewlies
By a Thread
This, Rastlin reflected, was exactly why you didn't hang about Solamnic knights whilst doing Delicate or Important Things. They managed to mislead your friends and idiotic family members, send everyone off and then leave you in a helpless position.
"Brightblade, please untie me." Raistlin said, doing his best to imitate the pleasing dulcet tones his sister had used when they were younger to talk her way out of trouble.
Apparently he either failed, or the boy-who-would-be-knight was immune to such entreaty; the response was a curt,
"No."
Kitiara never had been useful for anything, anyway.
Raistlin really had very little control over his temper. Years with Caramon, who would take any verbal assault with a smile, had left him with no need to check his tongue so, when displeased, Raistlin abruptly found he could go from pleading to abusive quite abruptly.
"You staggeringly idiotic plebian, you and I both know that I am in no way, shape or form possessed by anything but the desire to immolate you and your pretensions. I swear there will be nothing but a smear of your smirking visage if you do not desist and untie me immediately."
Raistlin paused for breath and then groaned internally. One did not, as a rule, insult and then threaten the life of the one person who held the power to untie you or leave you to freeze on a big ugly tree.
Apparently, approximately the same thoughts were running through the Solamnic in question's head, as he gave Raistlin a more pronounced smirk. Raistlin felt this was deeply unfair. He had always been under the impression that if you meant to smirk, sneer or snarl (any of the "s" expressions, really) at someone, you had to be evil. Brightblade was playing it both ways, and it was cheap.
"Majere, is your mouth connected to your brain at all?"
Good question. Raistlin, not trusting his brain or his mouth in this particular situation, settled on glaring and seething silently.
Brightblade smiled and then did something even less noble. He began to gloat. (You couldn't glare, gloat or grimace unless you were slightly evil either. None of the "s" or "g" expressions, Raistlin decided. If you were good and you did then you were cheating.)
"So you see, Majere, my plan worked perfectly. You are now helpless at my mercy, and no-one will miss you for at least another hour."
Raistlin narrowed his eyes and hissed. "You'll never get away with this."
Sturm tossed his head back and laughed madly. He managed to choke out, "Don't you see, foolish mage, I already have!" in between snorts. Moments like these made life worth living.
Raistlin decided his best option was to stall. "What do you plan to do with me, then?"
Strum stopped cackling and abruptly blushed a rather violent red. "Er, well, you see- Do you remember the last time we were, a-alone?"
Raistlin blushed too. "Of course I do," he hissed. Then, with an expression of dawning alarm, "You're not going to, er, you know, again?"
Sturm turned an even more violent red. "Certainly not! I just wanted to be sure that you understood that I was - teaching you a lesson last time. I'm not like, ah, 'that'."
Raistlin blinked. "You mean to say that you convinced everyone that a light spell was, in fact, the sign of demonic possession, sent my brother away and tied me to a tree just to tell me that you didn't mean anything by kissing me?"
Sturm nodded. "Yes, that's pretty much it."
"You couldn't have just taken me aside?"
Sturm shuffled his feet and looked mildly sheepish. "I do suppose I could have just done that. Now that you mention it."
Raistlin took a deep calming breath, trying to continue to keep his cool. Sturm still could leave him hanging (quite literally), if he upset him enough.
"Do you want to untie me now, Brightblade?"
Strum seemed to deflate. "Yeah, okay." This had ended up being a good bit more anti-climatic than he had expected somehow.
Grabbing a knife from his belt, he went to work on the tight ropes binding Raistlin, who squirmed uncomfortably in his bonds. After almost taking off a finger for the third time, Sturm snapped his head up and glared at Raistlin.
"Would you stop mov-" The mage's face was a lot closer to his own than he had expected. And Majere was worrying his thin lower lip, making it look slicker, redder and fuller than usual. "Oh," Rastlin said faintly, blushing rather prettily.
"Er," said Sturm. And then he promptly gave up.
He leaned in slightly, putting his weight on the body under him. Majere gasped slightly and Sturm pressed his lips against the soft, wet ones of the tied-up mage. Raistlin made a little "ah" sound and moved forward, parting his lips slightly and inhaling the woods-smell paired with Sturm's leather-and-arousal scent, which was musky and almost tangible on the tip of his tongue. This was not someone he was supposed to be kissing, and the wild insanity of it made his head spin.
Raistlin leaned up against the tree and whimpered softly, and Sturm took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Raistlin's mouth, lazily stroking and tickling the mage's palate, causing the smaller man to moan helplessly against him. The two broke apart, gasping, and Sturm spread small open- mouthed kisses down Raistlin's throat, tugging at the white robes to expose a pale collarbone. Raistlin made soft little pleading noises and breathed half-coherent encouragement at the Solamnic tracing the hollow of his throat with a hot tongue before moving back up to nibble at Raistlin's bottom lip.
The mage suddenly stiffened and whispered, "Footsteps," rather breathlessly. Sturm groaned and pulled himself away from the quivering form beneath him.
Sure enough, loud footsteps were crunching in their direction.
"Blast," Sturm muttered, tugging Raistlin's robes up to cover several mouth shaped marks that were already purpling. He tried, and failed, to ignore the pang of loss he felt, and concentrated on making himself presentable as the figures of Caramon and Flint became visible between the trees.
"Ahem. I actually found a way to cure him," Sturm said, motioning behind him and pretending he didn't sound pathetic. Raistlin snorted. Caramon grinned at them both.
"I'll just untie the mage now, shall I? You two go on back. I'm terribly sorry that you had to walk all the way back here again."
Flint grunted and turned around, muttering about being too old for this. Caramon smiled again and stood in place. "I don't mind waiting for you," he grinned at his brother.
"Caramon. Go. Now." Raistlin snapped. Caramon looked hurt, his smile faltering and failing on his face. He turned slowly around, heading in the other direction.
Sturm and Raistlin stared at each other.
"Perhaps you might untie me now?" Rastlin said, arching an eyebrow.
Sturm looked startled and nodded quickly, going to work on the ropes. This time, Raistlin managed to hold still.
When he had finished untying the mage, Sturm helped him to his feet like the conscientious knight he was. There was an awkward pause.
Raistlin finally broke it. "Not like 'that' my ass."
"Oh, just shut it." Sturm groaned.
It was a long, quiet walk back to Solace.