Wuffles made his way across from his basket to the bed. The night was warm, and God had kicked his blanket off so that he was covered only by his nightshirt.
Wuffles clambered onto the chest that sat at the end of the bed, then pulled himself onto the bed. God moved a little as the mattress shifted, then stilled again. The terrier walked up the bed to where the musky, familiar scent of God was strongest, and began to gently lick…
Lord Vetinari smiled faintly as Wuffles whimpered and twitched in his basket. He wondered what the dog dreamed.
***********************************************
I already wrote this at the squickfest for slytherin_dream. Do you want a fresh shiny brand spanking new one of your very own? *g*
He dreams of older days, when his lover had still been alive. He dreams of Order meetings that hadn’t been conspicuously under populated, that hadn’t had empty places around the table.
He dreams of the nights after the meetings, which was all the time they could spare each other.
He dreams of silk blindfolds, and leather straps, and pain that was always on the right side of too much.
It is too cold here. He shifts uncomfortably in his sleep, trying to find a softer spot on the floor- an impossible task.
Real people, silly. Caesar/Antony, Caesar/Nicomedes, Caesar/Cicero... Wait, no. Cicero was a prude. He only fucked his slave. Cicero/Tiro? Caesar/Dumnorix?
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 12:56 am (UTC)Wuffles clambered onto the chest that sat at the end of the bed, then pulled himself onto the bed. God moved a little as the mattress shifted, then stilled again. The terrier walked up the bed to where the musky, familiar scent of God was strongest, and began to gently lick…
Lord Vetinari smiled faintly as Wuffles whimpered and twitched in his basket. He wondered what the dog dreamed.
***********************************************
I already wrote this at the squickfest for
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 01:11 am (UTC)He dreams of the nights after the meetings, which was all the time they could spare each other.
He dreams of silk blindfolds, and leather straps, and pain that was always on the right side of too much.
It is too cold here. He shifts uncomfortably in his sleep, trying to find a softer spot on the floor- an impossible task.
But the bonds prompt dreams of better times.
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Does this count? *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 02:56 am (UTC)(Alastor being old Mad-Eye's actual first name. He lives in my head, you know. *wink* As my pain-in-the-arse personal muse.)
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 03:12 am (UTC)*SUCH a Classics dork. doric. ARGH*
no subject
Date: 2003-10-11 12:29 pm (UTC)no subject