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nanuk_dainTitle: What I see
Fandom: Hunchback of Notre-Dame (Disney version)
Pairing: Phoebus/Quasimodo
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Warnings: none
Word count: approx. 1.200
Disclaimer: Sorry to say that I don't own them. I would have given the shiny knight to Quasimodo, because he's earned it, and I would have found a nice girl for Esmeralda, because I love her character and I think she's perfect for some femslash XD
Series: None
Comment: Oh my gosh, I did it! I slashed Quasimodo and Phoebus – wow. I never expected that to happen... I got attacked by a particularly vicious muse when I watched the Disney version of the "Hunchback of Notre-Dame". Really, it was only meant to be a nice time with a childhood movie, but then *BANG*. So I had to write a quick ficlet on Phoebus/Quasimodo (yes, I know that's a strange pairing >_<). Set several years after the events of the movie.
Summary: When Phoebus wakes up one night, he ponders on the turn his life has taken many years ago.
I don't know what woke from my peaceful slumber, but I feel awake all of the sudden. Not alarmed, just awake. I open my eyes and my gaze finds the window; the sky is still dark and I can see the moonlight illuminating the window frame. The night is quiet, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. I take a deep breath, the air is cool but not freezing, and I look at the wooden ceiling for a moment, then I raise my head and turn on my side, propped up on my elbow. I gaze down at the sleeping figure next to me which I had been cuddled up against only a few moments ago. I let my eyes travel over his sleeping face. It is so much more relaxed than when he's awake.
I smile and let my finger trail along his right eyebrow, brushing aside the strand of red hair that always falls in his eye, then I proceed over his forehead, along the strong swell of his left eyebrow. I don't see what other people call deformation, I don't see a monster. I don't see ugliness. I see the soft swell of his lips and remember the beautiful smile that can make his whole face glow. I see the light in his eyes when he looks over the city. I see the gentle nature of a person that had no reason to become such a positive spirit and still did. I see the large hands that touch my skin with a tenderness that makes me lose my mind. I see the face that with one simple smile makes me feel warm all over. I see the man I want to wake up with every morning. Sometimes I wonder how this came to be. Not why it happened, because I know the answer to that deep down in my heart and I never even once questioned it.
All those years ago, when I first met Quasimodo and Esmeralda, I had only eyes for her unusual beauty, her fiery spirit and her proud defiance. Esmeralda was fire where Quasimodo was quiet strength. She was fierce enough to trigger my interest, fascination even, but she never grounded me like he did. I didn't notice it at first. I was pulled to her, but once the excitement of the events had passed, I found myself searching Quasimodo's presence more than hers. I spent many hours at the belltower, enjoying his gentle nature and his honest smile way more than I had ever expected.
I was surprised to find out that his hunch proved to be very sensitive – the reaction was immediate, I found myself on my back on the floor with a highly aroused bellringer on top of me. I don't know whom of us was more surprised to find him kissing me with a passion so strong that it made me dizzy, but I know I was surprised to feel myself return his kiss, burying my fingers in his hair. He has a strength that most people tend to forget. When he wrapped his arms around me for that first time, I was reminded of that moment in the staircase when he had held me at arm's length above the stairs, with just one hand, my feet dangling several feet over the ground. But when he embraced me, it was different, there was a gentleness underneath all his passion that told me he knew exactly what he could do with his strength, and that he would never use it against me again.
From the first moment on, I loved how he abandons all control when I take him, how his face is a mirror of his passion, his pleasure, his emotions. He doesn't hide his feeling when we are together, he reacts to my touch with a fierceness that makes me lose my mind, that makes me feel as if I was given a most precious gift. I love how his voice deepens, how his moans come deep from within his throat, how my name comes from his lips. I love that I can make him forget all his fears about his appearance, how I can make him love his body and its reactions to my hands, my mouth, my skin. I love the way he writhes under me, the way he presses against me, onto my flesh, lost in sensations, living for the moment.
I love that I can dare to let go of my tight grip on my own control with him. That he has the strength to deal with it, that I can trust him to take care of me when I lose myself. I love it when he raises up to his full height, as tall as me, takes hold of me and wraps his arms around me. Lets me feel his strength, lets me know without words that I can let go, that he'll be there for me, that he can take my passion. I love to feel him inside me, his strong fingers wrapped around me, his weight pressing me down. I know he loves to watch me give up my control, surrendering it to him. I know he loves to reduce me to nothing but pleasure, to make me lose any coherent thought, to render me speechless. He is the only person I would ever allow me see like this. I love it and he knows it.
My eyes have gotten used to the dark and I can see his bulk under the blanket. I let my fingers trail down his neck and smile, reminiscing. My knowledge of the sensitivity of his back has proven useful over the years. Quasimodo has never objected to my usage of said knowledge, he only insisted that I never use it in public. I completely agree with him on that matter, I don't fancy to find myself ravished in the middle of the market place. It would cause a lot of trouble.
But when I had made use of it earlier this night and he pressed me against the wall, eyes full of passion that hasn't lessened with the years, I had just grinned and pulled him closer. I know he had held back and waited for my approval, he always does, because we both know he is stronger than me. It is a sign of a completely different kind of strength that he possesses, one that has nothing to do with muscles and size. He has a heart that is too good and too innocent for this cruel world, a friendliness that amazes me again and again. It is something about him that I crave to protect because it is a vital part of him, because it makes him the man I love.
I watch him sleep for a long time, then I press a kiss on the skin of his neck, right under his jaw, and put my head down on his shoulder. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, taking in his smell that I like so much, that means home for me. I feel his hand close over my hip, his arm wrapping tighter around my waist as he pulls me closer, softly mumbling my name in his sleep. I relax against him and smile.
*** The End
Fandom: Hunchback of Notre-Dame (Disney version)
Pairing: Phoebus/Quasimodo
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Warnings: none
Word count: approx. 1.200
Disclaimer: Sorry to say that I don't own them. I would have given the shiny knight to Quasimodo, because he's earned it, and I would have found a nice girl for Esmeralda, because I love her character and I think she's perfect for some femslash XD
Series: None
Comment: Oh my gosh, I did it! I slashed Quasimodo and Phoebus – wow. I never expected that to happen... I got attacked by a particularly vicious muse when I watched the Disney version of the "Hunchback of Notre-Dame". Really, it was only meant to be a nice time with a childhood movie, but then *BANG*. So I had to write a quick ficlet on Phoebus/Quasimodo (yes, I know that's a strange pairing >_<). Set several years after the events of the movie.
Summary: When Phoebus wakes up one night, he ponders on the turn his life has taken many years ago.
I don't know what woke from my peaceful slumber, but I feel awake all of the sudden. Not alarmed, just awake. I open my eyes and my gaze finds the window; the sky is still dark and I can see the moonlight illuminating the window frame. The night is quiet, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. I take a deep breath, the air is cool but not freezing, and I look at the wooden ceiling for a moment, then I raise my head and turn on my side, propped up on my elbow. I gaze down at the sleeping figure next to me which I had been cuddled up against only a few moments ago. I let my eyes travel over his sleeping face. It is so much more relaxed than when he's awake.
I smile and let my finger trail along his right eyebrow, brushing aside the strand of red hair that always falls in his eye, then I proceed over his forehead, along the strong swell of his left eyebrow. I don't see what other people call deformation, I don't see a monster. I don't see ugliness. I see the soft swell of his lips and remember the beautiful smile that can make his whole face glow. I see the light in his eyes when he looks over the city. I see the gentle nature of a person that had no reason to become such a positive spirit and still did. I see the large hands that touch my skin with a tenderness that makes me lose my mind. I see the face that with one simple smile makes me feel warm all over. I see the man I want to wake up with every morning. Sometimes I wonder how this came to be. Not why it happened, because I know the answer to that deep down in my heart and I never even once questioned it.
All those years ago, when I first met Quasimodo and Esmeralda, I had only eyes for her unusual beauty, her fiery spirit and her proud defiance. Esmeralda was fire where Quasimodo was quiet strength. She was fierce enough to trigger my interest, fascination even, but she never grounded me like he did. I didn't notice it at first. I was pulled to her, but once the excitement of the events had passed, I found myself searching Quasimodo's presence more than hers. I spent many hours at the belltower, enjoying his gentle nature and his honest smile way more than I had ever expected.
I was surprised to find out that his hunch proved to be very sensitive – the reaction was immediate, I found myself on my back on the floor with a highly aroused bellringer on top of me. I don't know whom of us was more surprised to find him kissing me with a passion so strong that it made me dizzy, but I know I was surprised to feel myself return his kiss, burying my fingers in his hair. He has a strength that most people tend to forget. When he wrapped his arms around me for that first time, I was reminded of that moment in the staircase when he had held me at arm's length above the stairs, with just one hand, my feet dangling several feet over the ground. But when he embraced me, it was different, there was a gentleness underneath all his passion that told me he knew exactly what he could do with his strength, and that he would never use it against me again.
From the first moment on, I loved how he abandons all control when I take him, how his face is a mirror of his passion, his pleasure, his emotions. He doesn't hide his feeling when we are together, he reacts to my touch with a fierceness that makes me lose my mind, that makes me feel as if I was given a most precious gift. I love how his voice deepens, how his moans come deep from within his throat, how my name comes from his lips. I love that I can make him forget all his fears about his appearance, how I can make him love his body and its reactions to my hands, my mouth, my skin. I love the way he writhes under me, the way he presses against me, onto my flesh, lost in sensations, living for the moment.
I love that I can dare to let go of my tight grip on my own control with him. That he has the strength to deal with it, that I can trust him to take care of me when I lose myself. I love it when he raises up to his full height, as tall as me, takes hold of me and wraps his arms around me. Lets me feel his strength, lets me know without words that I can let go, that he'll be there for me, that he can take my passion. I love to feel him inside me, his strong fingers wrapped around me, his weight pressing me down. I know he loves to watch me give up my control, surrendering it to him. I know he loves to reduce me to nothing but pleasure, to make me lose any coherent thought, to render me speechless. He is the only person I would ever allow me see like this. I love it and he knows it.
My eyes have gotten used to the dark and I can see his bulk under the blanket. I let my fingers trail down his neck and smile, reminiscing. My knowledge of the sensitivity of his back has proven useful over the years. Quasimodo has never objected to my usage of said knowledge, he only insisted that I never use it in public. I completely agree with him on that matter, I don't fancy to find myself ravished in the middle of the market place. It would cause a lot of trouble.
But when I had made use of it earlier this night and he pressed me against the wall, eyes full of passion that hasn't lessened with the years, I had just grinned and pulled him closer. I know he had held back and waited for my approval, he always does, because we both know he is stronger than me. It is a sign of a completely different kind of strength that he possesses, one that has nothing to do with muscles and size. He has a heart that is too good and too innocent for this cruel world, a friendliness that amazes me again and again. It is something about him that I crave to protect because it is a vital part of him, because it makes him the man I love.
I watch him sleep for a long time, then I press a kiss on the skin of his neck, right under his jaw, and put my head down on his shoulder. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, taking in his smell that I like so much, that means home for me. I feel his hand close over my hip, his arm wrapping tighter around my waist as he pulls me closer, softly mumbling my name in his sleep. I relax against him and smile.
*** The End
