Kiss Me: Chapter One

This was something I wrote quite some time ago, and although it's very short it took me quite a lot of time.

Disclaimer: I do not know Drizzt or Wulfgar. If I did neither would ever leave their bed ; )

The tall barbarian man sat the cave's entrance, elbow resting on his thigh and his chin resting on his up-turned palm. Blond hair fell in tangles onto is shoulders, the curling ends dancing slightly in the gentle, if chill breeze, that swirled around him. The scene was peaceful as he watched the sun set, but he himself was greatly agitated. Willing himself to sit quietly and listen he still failed to hear the soft footsteps that heralded the approach of his teacher.

"Wulfgar?" came the gentle call. "Are you well?"

Turning he beheld his weapons master, the dark elf Drizzt Do'Urden, standing in the twilight shadows behind his shoulder. Gleaming lavender-hued eyes regarded him quizzically from beneath a fall of snow-white silky hair, perfectly contrasted to skin as black as sable.

And likely soft as satin, despite the rough living, Wulfgar thought, and blew a noisy sigh.

Drizzt cocked his head, and for just a second Wulfgar thought his thoughts must have showed too clearly on his face, and a horrible stab of fear swept through the young man. Oh Tempus! He will send me away!

But Drizzt only gave him a sad, puzzled smile and came to sit beside his student, breathing deeply of the night air. He had meant to take Wulfgar on an exhilarating run across the plains, or for a hard sparring match in the long, waving grass, but the barbarian's somber mood was infectious and he no longer desired to venture forth. Looking up at the first appearing stars he regained some measure of his composure and decided that the least he could do was try and absolve the young man of his troubles.

"Wulfgar? You did not answer me- are you well?"

The young man scrubbed one of his huge hands across his face and gave a weary sigh, desperately wanting to shout out the desires pounding through his very being, but doubting Drizzt would accept them. Lavender eyes met his searchingly, and he dreaded the thought of them narrowed in disgust; disdain.

This secret he must keep.

"I am well enough," he replied, not quite managing to keep the weariness out of is voice. "Truly, I am."

And then one dark, elegant elven hand was resting on his shoulder, the other grasping his chin with surprising strength as he found his head gently turned this way and that, as if the drow were examining him for some fault or flaw. A flaw he prayed the drow would not see.

"I see no signs of sickness," the drow said after a long, awkward moment. "But I am no expert in human ailments. Perhaps we should go to the towns, there are healers there who can more reliably make a diagnosis."

"No! No, I am well." Wulfgar broke in urgently. "There is no need to go anywhere."

The drow gave him another long, searching look.

"Then I deduce your complaint is of the spirit, and not the body. And do not tell me you are well, for your misery is writ plain across your face, my young friend. Tell me, what might I do to help?"

For what seemed an age they were locked eye to eye, the soft tips of Drizzt's fingers resting on his arm, causing the flesh there to prickle into goose-bumps. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and would not work properly. He tried to say something, anything, some excuse, but only a funny growling-squeak issued forth. His mind watched in frozen horror as his hand came around to clasp the hair at the back of the elf's head, the other pushing in the small of the drow's back. He was leaning forward, rushing forward, to push his face hungrily against that of his teacher, to feel lips, so soft and full, against his own, to rub the blond bristles on his chin across the soft elven cheek.

Finally he pulled away, gasping, tasting Drizzt on his own lips, and knowing with growing despair that, not only had kissed a male, his mentor, but that he had not done it particularly well. Wulfgar closed his eyes, certain at any moment he was going to be beaten within an inch of his life by slapping scimitar blades, but was surprised by a melodic elven chuckle.

"Oh Wulfgar!" the other giggled, still standing in the stunned barbarian's awkward embrace. "Was that all?"

And then it was the drow's turn to lean forward, pressing his lips, with much more finesse, to those of the young blond barbarian, flicking out the tip of his pink little tongue to brush against the man's lips, insistently, until they opened for him and he could plunder the moist cavern of his student's mouth.

Wulfgar moaned, then blushed, embarrassed, and closed his eyes as strong fingers tangled in his hair…

So, let me know, do you want a chapter two?