FIC: Companions
Jul. 18th, 2007 02:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mharificTitle: Companions
Author: Mhari
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Sagramore
Rating: PG-13
Words: 200
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: Sagramore finds Britain all too exciting.
Notes/Warnings: Teenage sex. Double drabble for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
get_laid25.
By the time they stop for the night, the Saxons lie in a ditch ten miles behind them, and Agravain is sulking again.
"Ignore him," Mordred says, the third and quietest brother. He flashes Sagramore a smile. "He's sixteen, he's stupid."
"I'm fifteen."
"But not stupid. Never mind, you can bed down with me tonight."
Sagramore flushes. "I don't want to come between you and your brother."
"You could never do that," Mordred says, and looks at him again. "No. That's not what I meant."
"Sir--"
"Nay, now. Aren't we friends, since this morning?" His smile is the moon to Gawain's sun, cool but friendly. Sagramore can't look away from it. In four years will he be anything like these young men, carelessly brave, with a smile that brightens the heart?
Mordred shrugs. "Or you can sleep alone if you like. Makes no difference to me."
"No," he says quickly. "I'd rather-- I don't mind."
So they share a blanket that night, and he doesn't protest when Mordred reaches over and opens his clothes, baring his skin to the cool night air and the heat of the Briton's mouth. He's in a strange country. He's more than willing to learn.
Author: Mhari
Fandom: Arthurian
Pairing: Mordred/Sagramore
Rating: PG-13
Words: 200
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the characters are everyone's.
Summary: Sagramore finds Britain all too exciting.
Notes/Warnings: Teenage sex. Double drabble for
get_laid25.By the time they stop for the night, the Saxons lie in a ditch ten miles behind them, and Agravain is sulking again.
"Ignore him," Mordred says, the third and quietest brother. He flashes Sagramore a smile. "He's sixteen, he's stupid."
"I'm fifteen."
"But not stupid. Never mind, you can bed down with me tonight."
Sagramore flushes. "I don't want to come between you and your brother."
"You could never do that," Mordred says, and looks at him again. "No. That's not what I meant."
"Sir--"
"Nay, now. Aren't we friends, since this morning?" His smile is the moon to Gawain's sun, cool but friendly. Sagramore can't look away from it. In four years will he be anything like these young men, carelessly brave, with a smile that brightens the heart?
Mordred shrugs. "Or you can sleep alone if you like. Makes no difference to me."
"No," he says quickly. "I'd rather-- I don't mind."
So they share a blanket that night, and he doesn't protest when Mordred reaches over and opens his clothes, baring his skin to the cool night air and the heat of the Briton's mouth. He's in a strange country. He's more than willing to learn.