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cap_ironman2015-09-22 03:25 pm
entropy-house.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2015-09-22 03:25 pm
FIC: Consensual Grape
Consensual Grape (603 words) by AnonEhouse
Rating: Teen
Warnings:None
Universe: MCU, fantasy
Genre: AU, Fluff, Crack
This is a fill for the Tiny Stony RB prompt Code Name: MARVEL. I thought the thumbnail was the whole image and wound up with something I wouldn't have written if I'd clicked through! Maybe I'll write another based on the full pic, if I can think of something to fit.
Stefanos heard the cursing long before he reached the vineyard. He hastened his steps, worried that he had caught an innocent, not a boy judging from the inventive vocabulary, but an innocent man, in his spring trap. He had been so sure it was one of his neighbor's wayward goats wreaking havoc on his grapes. Anyone would have thought so, after seeing all the cloven hoof prints dug into the soil around the ravaged plants.
He ran through the border of olive trees set as a windbreak. The thrashing and cursing increased. "Be still before you hurt yourself!" he shouted. "I'm coming to let you down!" True, the man was trespassing, but Stefanos had no wish to injure anyone.
He reached the tall olive tree nearest to his grapes, the one where he'd set a snare hidden among the vines. He stopped to stare at the stranger hanging upside down from the tree, swaying back and forth. The man was darkly handsome, more Greek than Stefanos, whose parents had come from a Northern island where fair skins and straw colored hair were common. His chiton was short. Very short.
Which, Stephanos realized, only made sense. From the waist down the man... wasn't a man. His thick, glossy black pelt and tough, polished black hooves hardly needed clothing. "Huh," Stephanos said after a long moment. "A satyr."
The satyr crossed his arms over his chest, over his outrageously decorated chiton, and huffed. "Huh," he said, "an idiot."
Stephanos laughed. "Be nice. I've caught you red-handed." Literally, as the satyr's hands were marked with grape juice, and his lips were ruddy with stolen fruit.
"It was only a few grapes," the satyr replied, sulkily.
"It was a lot of grapes," Stephanos said. He reached out to stop the satyr's swinging. "You look well off." That was an understatement. The chiton was embroidered in gold thread, and the satyr wore an ear cuff set with blue pearls. "Why couldn't you just buy grapes?"
"I was busy. Inventing things. And the grapes were just there."
Stephanos went over to the trunk of the tree and undid the rope, leaning back to take up the weight to lower the satyr slowly. "Centaurs invent things. Satyrs just get drunk and... you know." Stephanos felt himself blushing. He'd tried really hard not to look at the satyr's nether regions, but everyone knew satyrs were well-endowed, and shameless. And Stephanos was... well... interested.
The satyr landed on the ground, and reached down to pull the rope away from his hooves. He laughed up at Stephanos. His eyes were bright and his mouth still so very red. "I get drunk and 'you know' a lot, but I invent, too." He got up onto his hooves in one graceful, prancing motion. "My name is Antonis."
"I... I'm Stephanos. They call me that because I won the wreath at the last games."
"Mmm, yes." Antonis pranced close and laid his hand on Stephanos' chest. Stephanos felt his heart race. Up close Antonis smelled wild and musky and sweet. "Thank you, Stephanos." He reached past Stephanos to pluck a bunch of grapes. "Shall I pay you for these now?" He grinned and popped a fat grape into his mouth, crunching it down between strong, white teeth.
"Ah. Perhaps..." And then Stephanos' words were shut off by warm lips pressing firmly against his own. He put his arms around the satyr and kissed back. "I think you should pay me for all the grapes you've stolen."
Antonis leaned back far enough to grin at Stephanos. "Now I want to strip your whole vineyard bare."
Stephanos laughed.
NOTE:
Stephen or Steven /ˈstiːvən/ is a masculine first name, derived from the Greek name Στέφανος (Stéfanos), in turn from the Greek word "στέφανος", meaning "wreath, crown, honour, reward", literally "that which surrounds or encompasses". In ancient Greece, a wreath was given to the winner of a contest (from which the crown, symbol of rulers, derived).
Rating: Teen
Warnings:None
Universe: MCU, fantasy
Genre: AU, Fluff, Crack
This is a fill for the Tiny Stony RB prompt Code Name: MARVEL. I thought the thumbnail was the whole image and wound up with something I wouldn't have written if I'd clicked through! Maybe I'll write another based on the full pic, if I can think of something to fit.
Stefanos heard the cursing long before he reached the vineyard. He hastened his steps, worried that he had caught an innocent, not a boy judging from the inventive vocabulary, but an innocent man, in his spring trap. He had been so sure it was one of his neighbor's wayward goats wreaking havoc on his grapes. Anyone would have thought so, after seeing all the cloven hoof prints dug into the soil around the ravaged plants.
He ran through the border of olive trees set as a windbreak. The thrashing and cursing increased. "Be still before you hurt yourself!" he shouted. "I'm coming to let you down!" True, the man was trespassing, but Stefanos had no wish to injure anyone.
He reached the tall olive tree nearest to his grapes, the one where he'd set a snare hidden among the vines. He stopped to stare at the stranger hanging upside down from the tree, swaying back and forth. The man was darkly handsome, more Greek than Stefanos, whose parents had come from a Northern island where fair skins and straw colored hair were common. His chiton was short. Very short.
Which, Stephanos realized, only made sense. From the waist down the man... wasn't a man. His thick, glossy black pelt and tough, polished black hooves hardly needed clothing. "Huh," Stephanos said after a long moment. "A satyr."
The satyr crossed his arms over his chest, over his outrageously decorated chiton, and huffed. "Huh," he said, "an idiot."
Stephanos laughed. "Be nice. I've caught you red-handed." Literally, as the satyr's hands were marked with grape juice, and his lips were ruddy with stolen fruit.
"It was only a few grapes," the satyr replied, sulkily.
"It was a lot of grapes," Stephanos said. He reached out to stop the satyr's swinging. "You look well off." That was an understatement. The chiton was embroidered in gold thread, and the satyr wore an ear cuff set with blue pearls. "Why couldn't you just buy grapes?"
"I was busy. Inventing things. And the grapes were just there."
Stephanos went over to the trunk of the tree and undid the rope, leaning back to take up the weight to lower the satyr slowly. "Centaurs invent things. Satyrs just get drunk and... you know." Stephanos felt himself blushing. He'd tried really hard not to look at the satyr's nether regions, but everyone knew satyrs were well-endowed, and shameless. And Stephanos was... well... interested.
The satyr landed on the ground, and reached down to pull the rope away from his hooves. He laughed up at Stephanos. His eyes were bright and his mouth still so very red. "I get drunk and 'you know' a lot, but I invent, too." He got up onto his hooves in one graceful, prancing motion. "My name is Antonis."
"I... I'm Stephanos. They call me that because I won the wreath at the last games."
"Mmm, yes." Antonis pranced close and laid his hand on Stephanos' chest. Stephanos felt his heart race. Up close Antonis smelled wild and musky and sweet. "Thank you, Stephanos." He reached past Stephanos to pluck a bunch of grapes. "Shall I pay you for these now?" He grinned and popped a fat grape into his mouth, crunching it down between strong, white teeth.
"Ah. Perhaps..." And then Stephanos' words were shut off by warm lips pressing firmly against his own. He put his arms around the satyr and kissed back. "I think you should pay me for all the grapes you've stolen."
Antonis leaned back far enough to grin at Stephanos. "Now I want to strip your whole vineyard bare."
Stephanos laughed.
NOTE:
Stephen or Steven /ˈstiːvən/ is a masculine first name, derived from the Greek name Στέφανος (Stéfanos), in turn from the Greek word "στέφανος", meaning "wreath, crown, honour, reward", literally "that which surrounds or encompasses". In ancient Greece, a wreath was given to the winner of a contest (from which the crown, symbol of rulers, derived).
no subject
Excellent stuff!