fic: Sanguine
Sep. 29th, 2011 05:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Sanguine
Series: between FE9 and FE10.
Character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Word count: 1838
Rating: NC-17
Author's note: that other kink meme: Ike/Soren established relationship smut. Kink bingo: bloodplay (though the most vanilla and romantic bloodplay ever)
Minorly AU, in that it implies that during the period before 10 and after 9 ended, there were some rebel uprisings.
The meaning of Sanguine is 'cheerfully optimistic', though the origin means blood red. (There's also an aspect of medieval medicine to it.)
Winter Holidays:blankspectrum.
*
There was a slash across his chest, deep enough to leave the leather armor gouged. The leader had crumbled, a red stain spreading over his torso, and Ike had lived to fight another day. Sometimes that was all it was in battle: a missed blow, a broken blade.
They hadn't lost anyone. They'd beaten back the rebels. Ike ran his hands through his hair. It was sweaty and matted with dirt and blood. He'd have to have a good wash when he got back. A black blur made its way through the mercenaries, and then Soren was there beside him, lifting up a Cure staff and causing his skin to heal over, creating another scar in its wake.
Soren frowned at the wound. It'd been deep enough that it hadn't quite healed over entirely, but had gone from dangerously close to mortal to a minor sting.
"Hey, Ike—" Boyd called from across the field.
"He's busy," Soren hissed. Boyd stepped back, with the same sort of hurt and confused expression he always sported when Soren was unnecessarily cruel to him.
Soren gripped his wrist and pulled him towards the woods. Ike gave Boyd a you know how he is shrug, and allowed himself to be led away.
"I didn't mean to worry you," Ike said when they were alone. Soren didn't say anything, just grabbed at his label and leaned up until they met somewhere in-between in a kiss.
"I thought I lost you," Soren said. It was so quiet, practically a whimper. "I don't know what I'd do if I did—"
"It's all right," Ike soothed. He stroked Soren's cheek in a soothing gesture, forgetting how dirty he was.
"Whoops. Forgot about that," Ike said. There was a streak of blood and dirt over Soren's cheek. Ike expected it to be some sort of mood killer, given it was Soren, but he didn't admonish Ike.
"I should probably get washed. I don't think you'd want me like this," Ike said. He held up a dirty, bloodstained hand. Not all of it was his blood, but it was a good amount.
"I don't care," Soren said. "I...I always want you."
"Even like this?" Ike asked, faintly amused by this.
"Even like this," Soren said even more firmly.
Soren was such a freak about being clean and keeping his things in order. He'd always given Boyd such a tongue lashing when he tracked mud in on his boots. But apparently, he held Boyd and Ike to very different standards. Or the sheer relief made him forgo his pernickety ways. He tugged at Ike's armor, undoing the belt so it fell to the grass below. After a few too many times of getting their arms entangled, Ike tended to just let Soren do the disrobing. Plus, Soren had a knack for actually getting clothes and armor off without ripping them.
Usually there'd be a worry that someone might walk in on them, but with Boyd's big mouth, he'd probably blabbed to the entire group that Soren and him were having an important conversation and that if anyone interrupted them, Soren would bite their head off. Possibly literally.
Boyd could be real helpful at times, Ike thought with some amusement. Soren kept busy, occasionally stealing kisses as he undressed Ike. When he came to his belt buckle, Soren knelt before him, trailing kisses along his abdomen as he undid it. He pushed Ike's pants down, and then urged him onto the grass. Ike sat back and kicked off his boots and pants, leaving them in a pile next to Ike's assorted clothes.
Soren undid his own clothes, and Ike sat back to watch as his black robes slipped off him like water. Soon enough, he was also on the ground, peeling off the very last of his things.
"Hate to break it to you, but after that battle, I'm all out of vulneraries," Ike said.
"As am I," Soren said.
"Seriously?" Ike asked. "You're always prepared."
"Boyd has problems dodging blows and a habit of running headlong into battle. I thought the vulneraries I carried were better off with him," Soren replied.
Ike laughed. Sounded just like him.
"I'm sure we'll figure out a way around it," Ike said in a low, tender whisper.
His hands were much cleaner than Ike's own. Even after a major battle, the most Soren ever came out was a bit dusty. He was always pristine like that, though. Even when they were kids, Ike would come back looking like he'd jumped in every puddle and then rolled through it for good measure, while Soren looked inhumanly clean–especially for a young boy.
Ike had always admired him for that, even if it mystified him.
Soren was so much smaller than him. This was a fairly obvious thought at any given time of the day, but it was especially glaring when Soren was this close. He was lean and small, with an almost girlish figure. Ike felt up his slim hips, leaving a streak of black along where he'd touched.
Soren touched to where Ike had touched and didn't even clean himself off. Ike looked for something to wipe his hands off on, but instead Soren took each wrist and kissed the back of each glove. Soren lightly touched the wound which hadn't entirely healed, he pressed the bloodied fingertip to his own lips.
"Soren?"
"I'm reminding myself that you're still alive," Soren said. His voice had a husky, desperate edge.
He leaned in to kiss the wound, licking it with a gentle swipe of his tongue. Ike still didn't know what Soren's plans were, but he trusted him, so he just sat back and enjoyed the show. Soren wetted his palms with his tongue in a catlike gesture. He then rubbed down his own erect cock. Wetting his palm again with his tongue, he began to wet down Ike. He started between his muscled thighs, moving up over his balls, and to lubricate his cock the best he could without any oil. Ike enclosed him his arms. Soren was so fragile, and yet so strong all at once. They were rank with sweat and dirt and blood, but neither cared.
"Come on, let me touch you," Ike said. He smiled, feeling like he was brimming over with affection as Soren came closer. He moved from between Ike's thighs to sit on his lap, facing him. Ike felt up his back, leaving traces of dirt of blood as he touched. Soren brought their cocks together, holding them together with his hands as he laid his head against Ike's chest. There was a marked size difference between them, and tiny as he was, Soren fit well in his arms.
He kissed Soren's forehead, right on the brand and a faint shiver ran through Soren as he nestled closer.
Soren's hands were small, slim and yet quite talented. And like when it came to war, Ike let Soren do his thing, as he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. There was a dull pain with each breath from where Soren lay, just close enough to the wound to cause a sting, and the tingle under his skin as Soren got him off. The world was vivid, still his. The trees and grasses were so green, so alive. They'd lived another day. His arm was tight about Soren, each breath and beat of his heart sounded so loud in this silence.
Soren used his other hand to caress over his balls with a gentle firmness, moving down to trace over his ass, his inner thighs.
He looked up to face him with such a vulnerable, tender gaze. There were streaks of blood and dirt on his face from where he had rested and where Ike had touched him.
And Ike understood it then. It was like those age old rituals: cut your finger to form a pact, blood brothers, blood friends. He'd never heard of lovers doing it, but maybe they should. He leaned in just close enough to kiss where his blood had been, then to kiss Soren's mouth, his blood a metallic taste between them.
Soren rubbed the heads of their cocks together, which were now wet and slippery with white precum. Ike stroked Soren's hair, as Soren continued on stroking and touching, until finally, release. The silence of the place was broken by their labored breathing, the soft moans that Soren made, and a few grunts by Ike. There was no sharp ending, no cry when they came, but just a quiet sigh from Soren as he laid his head on Ike.
They leaned back, wrapped up in each other. The grass tickled his back, rough and soft all in once. Birds flew overhead, the tree branches swayed in the faint breeze. He stroked Soren's back, feeling the line of his spine. But Soren was never one for much relaxation, even when they weren't in the middle of the wilds with the rest of the group bound to walk in on them any minute.
He began to work himself free, and Ike let him go, but only after a kiss to his shoulder. Soren returned it, a kiss on his jawline, and then stood up. Soren began to sort through the disarray that was their clothes. He felt the pouch attached to his belt and frowned. After a moment of untying and fussing with it, Soren pulled out two bottles. The first was the water from Begnion, a special kind said to contain certain herbal extracts and minerals, a single indulgence for the sake of his health, and the a bottle of vulnerary. Soren took the water first and poured the rest of its contents over Ike's chest, cleaning it of dirt and blood. Then he slowly began to rub the contents of the vulnerary over Ike's chest.
"I thought you ran out?" Ike said.
"I had thought so as well...I had forgotten to take into account this one, which had too little left to be of any use to Boyd."
"It's strange to see you making mistakes," Ike said.
"Sorry, I'll try to be more perfect next time," Soren said dryly.
He pulled on his pants and smoothed out a crease. Ike laid back a little longer and watched him. He could still taste the metallic residue of blood, and the unspoken promise between them.
Series: between FE9 and FE10.
Character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Word count: 1838
Rating: NC-17
Author's note: that other kink meme: Ike/Soren established relationship smut. Kink bingo: bloodplay (though the most vanilla and romantic bloodplay ever)
Minorly AU, in that it implies that during the period before 10 and after 9 ended, there were some rebel uprisings.
The meaning of Sanguine is 'cheerfully optimistic', though the origin means blood red. (There's also an aspect of medieval medicine to it.)
Winter Holidays:
blankspectrum.*
There was a slash across his chest, deep enough to leave the leather armor gouged. The leader had crumbled, a red stain spreading over his torso, and Ike had lived to fight another day. Sometimes that was all it was in battle: a missed blow, a broken blade.
They hadn't lost anyone. They'd beaten back the rebels. Ike ran his hands through his hair. It was sweaty and matted with dirt and blood. He'd have to have a good wash when he got back. A black blur made its way through the mercenaries, and then Soren was there beside him, lifting up a Cure staff and causing his skin to heal over, creating another scar in its wake.
Soren frowned at the wound. It'd been deep enough that it hadn't quite healed over entirely, but had gone from dangerously close to mortal to a minor sting.
"Hey, Ike—" Boyd called from across the field.
"He's busy," Soren hissed. Boyd stepped back, with the same sort of hurt and confused expression he always sported when Soren was unnecessarily cruel to him.
Soren gripped his wrist and pulled him towards the woods. Ike gave Boyd a you know how he is shrug, and allowed himself to be led away.
"I didn't mean to worry you," Ike said when they were alone. Soren didn't say anything, just grabbed at his label and leaned up until they met somewhere in-between in a kiss.
"I thought I lost you," Soren said. It was so quiet, practically a whimper. "I don't know what I'd do if I did—"
"It's all right," Ike soothed. He stroked Soren's cheek in a soothing gesture, forgetting how dirty he was.
"Whoops. Forgot about that," Ike said. There was a streak of blood and dirt over Soren's cheek. Ike expected it to be some sort of mood killer, given it was Soren, but he didn't admonish Ike.
"I should probably get washed. I don't think you'd want me like this," Ike said. He held up a dirty, bloodstained hand. Not all of it was his blood, but it was a good amount.
"I don't care," Soren said. "I...I always want you."
"Even like this?" Ike asked, faintly amused by this.
"Even like this," Soren said even more firmly.
Soren was such a freak about being clean and keeping his things in order. He'd always given Boyd such a tongue lashing when he tracked mud in on his boots. But apparently, he held Boyd and Ike to very different standards. Or the sheer relief made him forgo his pernickety ways. He tugged at Ike's armor, undoing the belt so it fell to the grass below. After a few too many times of getting their arms entangled, Ike tended to just let Soren do the disrobing. Plus, Soren had a knack for actually getting clothes and armor off without ripping them.
Usually there'd be a worry that someone might walk in on them, but with Boyd's big mouth, he'd probably blabbed to the entire group that Soren and him were having an important conversation and that if anyone interrupted them, Soren would bite their head off. Possibly literally.
Boyd could be real helpful at times, Ike thought with some amusement. Soren kept busy, occasionally stealing kisses as he undressed Ike. When he came to his belt buckle, Soren knelt before him, trailing kisses along his abdomen as he undid it. He pushed Ike's pants down, and then urged him onto the grass. Ike sat back and kicked off his boots and pants, leaving them in a pile next to Ike's assorted clothes.
Soren undid his own clothes, and Ike sat back to watch as his black robes slipped off him like water. Soon enough, he was also on the ground, peeling off the very last of his things.
"Hate to break it to you, but after that battle, I'm all out of vulneraries," Ike said.
"As am I," Soren said.
"Seriously?" Ike asked. "You're always prepared."
"Boyd has problems dodging blows and a habit of running headlong into battle. I thought the vulneraries I carried were better off with him," Soren replied.
Ike laughed. Sounded just like him.
"I'm sure we'll figure out a way around it," Ike said in a low, tender whisper.
His hands were much cleaner than Ike's own. Even after a major battle, the most Soren ever came out was a bit dusty. He was always pristine like that, though. Even when they were kids, Ike would come back looking like he'd jumped in every puddle and then rolled through it for good measure, while Soren looked inhumanly clean–especially for a young boy.
Ike had always admired him for that, even if it mystified him.
Soren was so much smaller than him. This was a fairly obvious thought at any given time of the day, but it was especially glaring when Soren was this close. He was lean and small, with an almost girlish figure. Ike felt up his slim hips, leaving a streak of black along where he'd touched.
Soren touched to where Ike had touched and didn't even clean himself off. Ike looked for something to wipe his hands off on, but instead Soren took each wrist and kissed the back of each glove. Soren lightly touched the wound which hadn't entirely healed, he pressed the bloodied fingertip to his own lips.
"Soren?"
"I'm reminding myself that you're still alive," Soren said. His voice had a husky, desperate edge.
He leaned in to kiss the wound, licking it with a gentle swipe of his tongue. Ike still didn't know what Soren's plans were, but he trusted him, so he just sat back and enjoyed the show. Soren wetted his palms with his tongue in a catlike gesture. He then rubbed down his own erect cock. Wetting his palm again with his tongue, he began to wet down Ike. He started between his muscled thighs, moving up over his balls, and to lubricate his cock the best he could without any oil. Ike enclosed him his arms. Soren was so fragile, and yet so strong all at once. They were rank with sweat and dirt and blood, but neither cared.
"Come on, let me touch you," Ike said. He smiled, feeling like he was brimming over with affection as Soren came closer. He moved from between Ike's thighs to sit on his lap, facing him. Ike felt up his back, leaving traces of dirt of blood as he touched. Soren brought their cocks together, holding them together with his hands as he laid his head against Ike's chest. There was a marked size difference between them, and tiny as he was, Soren fit well in his arms.
He kissed Soren's forehead, right on the brand and a faint shiver ran through Soren as he nestled closer.
Soren's hands were small, slim and yet quite talented. And like when it came to war, Ike let Soren do his thing, as he certainly seemed to know what he was doing. There was a dull pain with each breath from where Soren lay, just close enough to the wound to cause a sting, and the tingle under his skin as Soren got him off. The world was vivid, still his. The trees and grasses were so green, so alive. They'd lived another day. His arm was tight about Soren, each breath and beat of his heart sounded so loud in this silence.
Soren used his other hand to caress over his balls with a gentle firmness, moving down to trace over his ass, his inner thighs.
He looked up to face him with such a vulnerable, tender gaze. There were streaks of blood and dirt on his face from where he had rested and where Ike had touched him.
And Ike understood it then. It was like those age old rituals: cut your finger to form a pact, blood brothers, blood friends. He'd never heard of lovers doing it, but maybe they should. He leaned in just close enough to kiss where his blood had been, then to kiss Soren's mouth, his blood a metallic taste between them.
Soren rubbed the heads of their cocks together, which were now wet and slippery with white precum. Ike stroked Soren's hair, as Soren continued on stroking and touching, until finally, release. The silence of the place was broken by their labored breathing, the soft moans that Soren made, and a few grunts by Ike. There was no sharp ending, no cry when they came, but just a quiet sigh from Soren as he laid his head on Ike.
They leaned back, wrapped up in each other. The grass tickled his back, rough and soft all in once. Birds flew overhead, the tree branches swayed in the faint breeze. He stroked Soren's back, feeling the line of his spine. But Soren was never one for much relaxation, even when they weren't in the middle of the wilds with the rest of the group bound to walk in on them any minute.
He began to work himself free, and Ike let him go, but only after a kiss to his shoulder. Soren returned it, a kiss on his jawline, and then stood up. Soren began to sort through the disarray that was their clothes. He felt the pouch attached to his belt and frowned. After a moment of untying and fussing with it, Soren pulled out two bottles. The first was the water from Begnion, a special kind said to contain certain herbal extracts and minerals, a single indulgence for the sake of his health, and the a bottle of vulnerary. Soren took the water first and poured the rest of its contents over Ike's chest, cleaning it of dirt and blood. Then he slowly began to rub the contents of the vulnerary over Ike's chest.
"I thought you ran out?" Ike said.
"I had thought so as well...I had forgotten to take into account this one, which had too little left to be of any use to Boyd."
"It's strange to see you making mistakes," Ike said.
"Sorry, I'll try to be more perfect next time," Soren said dryly.
He pulled on his pants and smoothed out a crease. Ike laid back a little longer and watched him. He could still taste the metallic residue of blood, and the unspoken promise between them.
