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schmericaSecond of the ficlet responses! ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
introductory's prompt for me was this image.
Crossing
by Pearl-o
Charles/Erik, ~500 words, PG. Fantasy AU!
Summary: The one where Erik is a centaur.
*****
Charles is doing his best to keep pace, to not fall behind, no matter how tired he is getting, but he can tell from the glances Erik keeps giving him that he's noticed Charles's struggle. Charles had always considered himself to have fairly good stamina, but there is a world of difference between the sheltered estates and rich towns where he's always lived, and the wild forest out here.
He's so exhausted - he's never walked this far before - but they still have so far to go. He suspects that Erik is holding back already; there's not a drop of sweat on his body, not a single harsh breath. He bites his own tongue, and for a while it's only pride keeping him going.
"Stop," he says finally, staggering to lean heavily against a tree. He rests his cheek against the rough bark. "Just for a minute. I just need a minute to rest."
He closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens them again, Erik is still watching him, an odd expression on his face. He pulls off the canteen that's strung across his torso and hands it to Charles, who drinks deeply before handing it back with a grateful nod.
Erik seems to come to a decision. "We're falling behind. We still have two days to the city."
"I'm sorry - just another minute, I'll be fine to go-"
Erik shakes his head, slowly. "No. You're slowing us down. This isn't working."
"You cannot go without me," Charles says, feeling the desperation and begining of anger rise up inside him, but Erik shakes his head again.
"No, I'll need your help once we get there. There's no choice, Charles. You'll have to ride."
Charles gapes at him for a moment. "You can't be serious."
"It's the only way we'll get to the city before Shaw." Erik lowers himself, very slowly, to his knees, as Charles tries to figure out how to respond. It's a taboo that's been pressed into him, into all bipod children, since childhood: centaurs are not pets, not pack animals, they are people. Older people, his grandparents' age and older, still refer to mares and studs, all the derogatory terms that make Charles uncomfortable, and still scoff at the equality laws, all these years later, as an example of the ridiculousness of politics.
"I can't," Charles says, finally.
"Charles," Erik says, his voice deep and impatient. "Get on."
He swallows. The touch of his hand against Erik's hide is shockingly, terribly intimate. Erik is warm, incredibly warm, and there's firm muscle everywhere Charles can reach. Charles braces himself by wrapping his arms around Erik's stomach as Erik stands once again.
"Hold on with your thighs. Tighter," Erik says, and Charles adjusts. "This might be uncomfortable," he continues.
"It's all right," Charles says.
"All right," Erik says, and then they're off. Charles rests his forehead against the tanned skin of Erik's upper back, and tries to breathe.
introductory's prompt for me was this image.
Crossing
by Pearl-o
Charles/Erik, ~500 words, PG. Fantasy AU!
Summary: The one where Erik is a centaur.
*****
Charles is doing his best to keep pace, to not fall behind, no matter how tired he is getting, but he can tell from the glances Erik keeps giving him that he's noticed Charles's struggle. Charles had always considered himself to have fairly good stamina, but there is a world of difference between the sheltered estates and rich towns where he's always lived, and the wild forest out here.
He's so exhausted - he's never walked this far before - but they still have so far to go. He suspects that Erik is holding back already; there's not a drop of sweat on his body, not a single harsh breath. He bites his own tongue, and for a while it's only pride keeping him going.
"Stop," he says finally, staggering to lean heavily against a tree. He rests his cheek against the rough bark. "Just for a minute. I just need a minute to rest."
He closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens them again, Erik is still watching him, an odd expression on his face. He pulls off the canteen that's strung across his torso and hands it to Charles, who drinks deeply before handing it back with a grateful nod.
Erik seems to come to a decision. "We're falling behind. We still have two days to the city."
"I'm sorry - just another minute, I'll be fine to go-"
Erik shakes his head, slowly. "No. You're slowing us down. This isn't working."
"You cannot go without me," Charles says, feeling the desperation and begining of anger rise up inside him, but Erik shakes his head again.
"No, I'll need your help once we get there. There's no choice, Charles. You'll have to ride."
Charles gapes at him for a moment. "You can't be serious."
"It's the only way we'll get to the city before Shaw." Erik lowers himself, very slowly, to his knees, as Charles tries to figure out how to respond. It's a taboo that's been pressed into him, into all bipod children, since childhood: centaurs are not pets, not pack animals, they are people. Older people, his grandparents' age and older, still refer to mares and studs, all the derogatory terms that make Charles uncomfortable, and still scoff at the equality laws, all these years later, as an example of the ridiculousness of politics.
"I can't," Charles says, finally.
"Charles," Erik says, his voice deep and impatient. "Get on."
He swallows. The touch of his hand against Erik's hide is shockingly, terribly intimate. Erik is warm, incredibly warm, and there's firm muscle everywhere Charles can reach. Charles braces himself by wrapping his arms around Erik's stomach as Erik stands once again.
"Hold on with your thighs. Tighter," Erik says, and Charles adjusts. "This might be uncomfortable," he continues.
"It's all right," Charles says.
"All right," Erik says, and then they're off. Charles rests his forehead against the tanned skin of Erik's upper back, and tries to breathe.
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