untitled !!!!!!
Right after two days of intensive culture on me a Johnnys (now I can recognize all Kanjani, all Kat-tun and NEWS all if they are still. And if it was that I did not put Yamapi and Jin everywhere regarded as interchangeable ) I wrote a fanfic. On
Johnnys?
No, the Three Kings. Yes, those Magi. Yes, slash. No.
did not seem a bad idea.
Author: Matatabi
Genre: General, Slash, vaguely Philosophical
Pairing: Gaspare Melchiorre x ( GOD that strange writing .-. Brr )
Rating: PG-13
Summary : For our calendar, January 7. The youngest of the Three Kings can not sleep.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, and do not own them, strictly speaking, no one apart from the folk tradition since the Bible does not come out. Was not carried out any research for this fanfiction, loosely inspired by the popular Christmas song "We Three Kings." Written in a couple of 'hours because it does.
The boy had not yet entered his tent. Crouching just off the mounts, in the light of the moon looked like a statue. Metallica, for the 'golden hair and the sword of iron that led to the side, intending from the very' beginning to use it to defend the small caravan or put to the service, if necessary, the King of Kings Muta, the silence that had Melchiorre retained since they had left behind the barn and a newborn strange dark eyes of the older time, before which he had deposed his father's gold.
Gaspare the dark put a hand on his shoulder and smiled to hear him startled, surprised, and then relax in the shadows of the night feeling that, even darker, the traveling companion.
"Can not sleep, boy? "
Melchior shook his head and then mention the tent with his chin in the third between them, simple, grim and stern as its occupant.
"Not even you, I see. I wonder how he he .... "
Gaspar sat next to the boy in a rustle of cloth smelling of 'incense, nodding as to encourage him to continue.
"You're older, wiser than me. And now? "
reached out to the expanse of sand and weeds in front them, the sky spotted with stars.
"Now ... what happens? I thought the stars indicating a king - someone who would reign over us. They spoke of a scepter, I took the gold for his crown. But ... "he shook his head, looking for the look of the 'bigger man before holding his chin in the palms. Under the fabric of his tunic, rich and carefully woven, shoulders shaking, "... but I was wrong. I realized when I smiled when the angels sang. It 's all so great, Gaspare. More of our maps, most of the predictions, most of the stars ... "
's strong support for the older man with two fingers on his lips for a moment, a light touch and hot gently to impose silence. He waited a moment before continuing, his arm around the boy's shoulders, her face close to hers - the intelligent and precocious son of a royal family, an enthusiastic student, a boy confused and almost scared the night after most of his life.
"It is, you do not lie. But you were not wrong about the king. Not me I was wrong on the gods - or the old sacrifice. You're lucky if your first journey following the star brought you to this. "He shook
scarcely more than the boy's shoulder, moving a little better to let it settle near him, leaning against his side. He looked up skyward, urging the younger companion to do the same with a nod, her voice low and gentle.
King, God and Sacrifice. And 'something very big, more than they can hold the stars. But it is something that must be scary, nor where to get carried away. Whatever issues this child is something that will change the world as we know it. It is no accident that you, of all people, has read the maps in his coming "He nodded when the boy raised his head, seriously," You have the means and the way the mind to read in the stars. You have the strength to follow what you read. "He read in the smile of that Melchior was the right thing to say - a confirmation by someone who is expected to have reassurance about his place in the 'order of things too big.
's words followed a master 's embrace of a father, a pat on the hair and caked with dust from the journey as they returned to their tents. The boy slipped past the 'input, following the' interior with an uncertain smile as if to ask permission at the same time to get it safe and ashamed to ask.
was not the first time to 'embrace of a father was following a different kind of comfort, equally welcome, was not the first couple of young arms in the dark trying to tighten security, some kind of security before a sky too big . 'S oldest man undid the laces of clothes Melchiorre slipped to the ground, placing his lips on the pale skin, stretched to the clavicles. He shook up the teeth on her neck and heard him give a groan and make stronger hands to her hips, pushing against him.
There 'was no need for words that night, and everything would be consensual forgotten in the morning. The hands on him, and gasps, the taste of warm skin under the tongue. The movements of the awkward boy, like a young animal. His pale skin in the dark and that of companion, so that the dark hand between her legs looked like a spread of Melchior 's shadow itself.
On the one hand the youth of him, his body balance and flexibility, a 'pleasant occasion to release tension in recent days to try a fresh fruit and - judging by the difficulty of completing it - intact. From 'other a' admiration resulted in confused impulses and thoughts about 'dark-skinned man, accentuated by the desire to be kept tight to get to sleep at night - that night - in the arms of someone who knows the road.
Later Gaspare quietly left the 'tangle of blankets and the silhouette of the boy who was snoring floor, surrounded by a peaceful sleep. She stroked a 'hair last time before slipping across the threshold of the tent - it was the first time of' dawn, c 'was still time to read fate in the stars of the Little Kings and their location.
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