Fic: Sleeping With The Enemy (1/1)
Apr. 7th, 2012 12:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bradygirl_12Title: Sleeping With The Enemy (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Dax/Amorite Warrior
Genres: AU, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to battlefield violence.
Spoilers: None
Summary: A wounded Warrior experiences an unusual encounter with the enemy.
Date Of Completion: March 17, 2012
Date Of Posting: April 7, 2012
Disclaimer: None. ‘Tis original fic! ;)
Word Count: 663
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hpstrangelove for her generosity in sending me the 2012 Oscar DVD! She requested something m/m and original. I had this written awhile ago but didn’t have time to polish it until now. Enjoy, luv! :)
Dax held his side as he knelt in the dirt, blood seeping through his fingers. Breathing heavily, his muscles shook as his head spun. Smoke swirled in the distance as the dark sky roiled with streaks of red as the sun set. He felt fortunate to be in the shade of a large boulder, removed from the battlefield with the cloying smell of blood and the cries of the wounded and dying.
He tried to clear his head. He had to get back to his army’s lines. It was too dangerous out there.
But he was so weak! How could he get back to his own lines? He would have to crawl on his hands and knees.
The scrape of a boot on hard ground brought his head up. His senses must have been truly addled if he could not have detected this mountain of a man almost upon him!
The Amorite was over six feet tall, sun-bronzed and rippling with muscles. His long, black hair was neatly tied back, his golden war armor stained with blood. Sandals laced legs as thick as tree trunks, and the Warrior gripped a heavy broadsword, the gold hilt winking with emeralds and sapphires. A long, dark-blue cloak rippled out behind him in the light breeze.
Dax’s heart triphammered. He closed his eyes, awaiting death at the hands of the enemy.
He waited, but no whistle of air heralded the coming of the sword down upon him. He opened his eyes, wondering if the enemy was toying with him.
Instead Dax saw compassion in the dark-green eyes as the warrior knelt and gently helped Dax to lean back against the boulder. With amazing delicacy for one whose hands were so large, the Warrior bathed and dressed the wound with water from his canteen.
Dax gritted his teeth. The wound in his side was deep. He would need a healer if he was going to recover.
The Warrior presented Dax with a hard roll, which the Rillian ate gratefully. He drank from the Warrior’s canteen, the warm water sliding down his parched throat.
The Amorite stroked Dax’s silky white hair, one callused thumb running over Dax’s cheek. Dax blinked. His pain was lessened, allowing him to appreciate the beauty of his caretaker.
I am heartily sick of this war with its death and destruction.
He could smell the Warrior’s sweat as his muscles gleamed with it. He wanted…just a little time away from the damned war.
The Warrior leaned forward and kissed him, a light brush of the lips, then deeper. Dax moaned softly, strong hands cupping his face. The Amorite’s hands stroked over Dax’s shoulders and chest, nuzzling his neck. Dax felt a pleasant tingle, too hurt to be aroused but able to enjoy the caresses.
The Warrior put his arm around Dax and sat beside him. Dax rested his head on a broad shoulder, feeling safe. The absurdity of feeling safe in the arms of the enemy was not lost on him.
A cool breeze blew as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Dax shivered and was quickly covered by the Warrior’s cloak. He began to feel sleepy as warm lips brushed his temple.
& & & & & &
When Dax awoke, the sun had begun to rise. The blue Amorite cloak was still draped around him, but the Warrior was gone. A roll and the canteen were set on the ground beside him.
Dax clutched the cloak tighter around his shoulders. He ate the bread and drank the water. He felt stronger, but would still have to be careful as he made his way back to his lines.
He looked at the cloak. In the lining was an elaborate crest of two golden crossed swords on a field of darker blue outlined in yellow. He would remember this crest and after the war, find his angel of mercy.
With a shaky effort, Dax rose to his feet and began to make his way back to his people’s lines.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Dax/Amorite Warrior
Genres: AU, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to battlefield violence.
Spoilers: None
Summary: A wounded Warrior experiences an unusual encounter with the enemy.
Date Of Completion: March 17, 2012
Date Of Posting: April 7, 2012
Disclaimer: None. ‘Tis original fic! ;)
Word Count: 663
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for
hpstrangelove for her generosity in sending me the 2012 Oscar DVD! She requested something m/m and original. I had this written awhile ago but didn’t have time to polish it until now. Enjoy, luv! :)Dax held his side as he knelt in the dirt, blood seeping through his fingers. Breathing heavily, his muscles shook as his head spun. Smoke swirled in the distance as the dark sky roiled with streaks of red as the sun set. He felt fortunate to be in the shade of a large boulder, removed from the battlefield with the cloying smell of blood and the cries of the wounded and dying.
He tried to clear his head. He had to get back to his army’s lines. It was too dangerous out there.
But he was so weak! How could he get back to his own lines? He would have to crawl on his hands and knees.
The scrape of a boot on hard ground brought his head up. His senses must have been truly addled if he could not have detected this mountain of a man almost upon him!
The Amorite was over six feet tall, sun-bronzed and rippling with muscles. His long, black hair was neatly tied back, his golden war armor stained with blood. Sandals laced legs as thick as tree trunks, and the Warrior gripped a heavy broadsword, the gold hilt winking with emeralds and sapphires. A long, dark-blue cloak rippled out behind him in the light breeze.
Dax’s heart triphammered. He closed his eyes, awaiting death at the hands of the enemy.
He waited, but no whistle of air heralded the coming of the sword down upon him. He opened his eyes, wondering if the enemy was toying with him.
Instead Dax saw compassion in the dark-green eyes as the warrior knelt and gently helped Dax to lean back against the boulder. With amazing delicacy for one whose hands were so large, the Warrior bathed and dressed the wound with water from his canteen.
Dax gritted his teeth. The wound in his side was deep. He would need a healer if he was going to recover.
The Warrior presented Dax with a hard roll, which the Rillian ate gratefully. He drank from the Warrior’s canteen, the warm water sliding down his parched throat.
The Amorite stroked Dax’s silky white hair, one callused thumb running over Dax’s cheek. Dax blinked. His pain was lessened, allowing him to appreciate the beauty of his caretaker.
I am heartily sick of this war with its death and destruction.
He could smell the Warrior’s sweat as his muscles gleamed with it. He wanted…just a little time away from the damned war.
The Warrior leaned forward and kissed him, a light brush of the lips, then deeper. Dax moaned softly, strong hands cupping his face. The Amorite’s hands stroked over Dax’s shoulders and chest, nuzzling his neck. Dax felt a pleasant tingle, too hurt to be aroused but able to enjoy the caresses.
The Warrior put his arm around Dax and sat beside him. Dax rested his head on a broad shoulder, feeling safe. The absurdity of feeling safe in the arms of the enemy was not lost on him.
A cool breeze blew as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Dax shivered and was quickly covered by the Warrior’s cloak. He began to feel sleepy as warm lips brushed his temple.
When Dax awoke, the sun had begun to rise. The blue Amorite cloak was still draped around him, but the Warrior was gone. A roll and the canteen were set on the ground beside him.
Dax clutched the cloak tighter around his shoulders. He ate the bread and drank the water. He felt stronger, but would still have to be careful as he made his way back to his lines.
He looked at the cloak. In the lining was an elaborate crest of two golden crossed swords on a field of darker blue outlined in yellow. He would remember this crest and after the war, find his angel of mercy.
With a shaky effort, Dax rose to his feet and began to make his way back to his people’s lines.
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no subject
Date: 2012-04-07 05:14 pm (UTC)/nods. Nicely done :)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-07 06:23 pm (UTC)Thank you, Rose! :)
And I'd love a follow-up. What was on the Amorite's mind/what was he thinking during this whole thing? What, if any, is the significance of the crest on the inside of the cloak?
/nods. Nicely done :)
I'm glad it got you thinking! :)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-08 05:14 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing this, Brady, I really enjoyed it. And, you know, if you ever felt like writing more... ;)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-08 06:31 pm (UTC)I think they might see each other again on down the road. ;)
Thank you for sharing this, Brady, I really enjoyed it. And, you know, if you ever felt like writing more... ;)
*laughs*
Glad you enjoyed it, Star! :)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-09 04:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-09 02:57 pm (UTC)Thank you, Mithen! :)
I did enjoy writing the mystery of it. :)
And battlefield meetings are always dramatic!
*nods*
Drama is inherent in those situations.
I love your icon! Quite lovely. :)