Three drabbles
May. 19th, 2009 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixThree Sean-character drabbles, part of my continuing contribution to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sons_of_gondor's Reflections: Fifty Days of Sean. Inspired in part by this post by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
caras_galadhon. All photos courtesy of The Mighty Bean.
Caravaggio
Michelangelo/Ranuccio
Some called him the Church’s whore. Give Michaeli a religious tableau and a few gold coins and he’s yours for the night. It wasn’t all for the Church, though. They’d never understand, much less approve of the piece he worked on now.
Golden-haired, golden-skinned, thighs spread insolently apart, half-reclining amongst armfuls of pale, fragile narcissi, his model regarded the mirror he held in his hand with faint amusement and contempt, as if it were a superfluous thing. He became aware of Michaeli’s regard and offered a voluptuous smile. Little gutter trash, enticing and always elusive.
Michaeli would bide his time.
Lorna Doone
Carver Doone/Diego Alatriste
Especially forgovi20 - a taste of things to come. ;)
Carver tore off a chunk of meat with his teeth, and finding most of it to be fat and gristle, spat it onto the floor. He drained his flagon and indifferently wiped greasy fingers on his jacket. “Spaniard – you hungry?”
There was no response from the bound figure on the other side of the hut.
Vexed, Carver rose and strode over to his prisoner. He twined his fingers through chestnut hair and forced the man’s head back. “When I speak, you had better answer, by God.” He grinned, menace gleaming in his eyes. “Know what you are? My birthday gift.”
Sharpe
Sharpe/Harper
“Felicitations of the day, sir.” Harper handed Sharpe a small plate, on which reposed a little cake.
“Damn you anyroads, Pat.” Sharpe blushed with embarrassed pleasure and frowned to hide it. “This is the third bloody year you’ve done this. Who said it was my birthday?”
“Bribed the company clerk, so I did.” Harper beamed.
Sharpe snorted, then bit into the cake. “Lardy cake. Christ, Pat. Where’d you find it?”
“Ah, now, that would be telling. A man needs some secrets.” Harper’s voice dropped to a mumble.
Unbidden, Sharpe’s blush intensified. Two nights ago, that remark would have been innocuous.
sons_of_gondor's Reflections: Fifty Days of Sean. Inspired in part by this post by caras_galadhon. All photos courtesy of The Mighty Bean.Caravaggio
Michelangelo/Ranuccio
Some called him the Church’s whore. Give Michaeli a religious tableau and a few gold coins and he’s yours for the night. It wasn’t all for the Church, though. They’d never understand, much less approve of the piece he worked on now.
Golden-haired, golden-skinned, thighs spread insolently apart, half-reclining amongst armfuls of pale, fragile narcissi, his model regarded the mirror he held in his hand with faint amusement and contempt, as if it were a superfluous thing. He became aware of Michaeli’s regard and offered a voluptuous smile. Little gutter trash, enticing and always elusive.
Michaeli would bide his time.
Lorna Doone
Carver Doone/Diego Alatriste
Especially for
govi20 - a taste of things to come. ;)
Carver tore off a chunk of meat with his teeth, and finding most of it to be fat and gristle, spat it onto the floor. He drained his flagon and indifferently wiped greasy fingers on his jacket. “Spaniard – you hungry?”
There was no response from the bound figure on the other side of the hut.
Vexed, Carver rose and strode over to his prisoner. He twined his fingers through chestnut hair and forced the man’s head back. “When I speak, you had better answer, by God.” He grinned, menace gleaming in his eyes. “Know what you are? My birthday gift.”
Sharpe
Sharpe/Harper
“Felicitations of the day, sir.” Harper handed Sharpe a small plate, on which reposed a little cake.
“Damn you anyroads, Pat.” Sharpe blushed with embarrassed pleasure and frowned to hide it. “This is the third bloody year you’ve done this. Who said it was my birthday?”
“Bribed the company clerk, so I did.” Harper beamed.
Sharpe snorted, then bit into the cake. “Lardy cake. Christ, Pat. Where’d you find it?”
“Ah, now, that would be telling. A man needs some secrets.” Harper’s voice dropped to a mumble.
Unbidden, Sharpe’s blush intensified. Two nights ago, that remark would have been innocuous.
