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Written for yuletide Madness 2011. I wrote a treat for [personal profile] subtext, who requested an Oglaf fic with Ivan/Sandoval.

Title: Missing Abstract into Substance
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Oglaf
Pairing: Ivan/Sandoval
Rating: R
Summary: Your portrait ranks forever in the pantheon of good taste and serves to charm even as it fails to inspire care. Pitching woo the Xoan way.
Notes: No spoilers.



When he first entered Mistress's court, Sandoval thought it ridiculous that everybody called her Mistress. That was, however, before he saw her set his predecessor on fire for not properly pleasuring three of her guards in a row. "That seems a bit...harsh," he murmured to the apprentice standing next to him.

"He's lucky she started with his feet," the apprentice replied, shuddering.

Sandoval looked over, then. The apprentice was taller than Sandoval expected, and he practically bloomed innocence. Sandoval licked his lips. "You're like a delectable mint on the pillow of my diplomacy."

The apprentice blinked. "What?"

Sandoval's predecessor was properly dancing now, and Mistress was doing something deliciously obscene with her scepter. "I'm going to like it here," Sandoval announced.

"People always think that at first," the apprentice sighed.

*


"You have a remarkably talented pair of lips," Sandoval cooed. "A pair of acrobats, trained from birth to slay dragons with their grace, cannot compare to the dance of your lips--"

The apprentice opened his eyes. "AUGH."

"--upon my cock," Sandoval finished. He slipped a hand underneath the blankets. "You've been dreaming of me."

"AUGH!" the apprentice replied, and Sandoval tightened his grip. "What are you doing here?"

"You?" Sandoval ventured. He circled his thumb quickly, and the apprentice bucked hard.

"I," the apprentice gasped, "don't think," he managed, "this," he bit out, "is a good idea."

Sandoval curved, darting his tongue against the apprentice's throat, grinning as the apprentice whimpered. "Crumpet."

The apprentice's eyes fluttered open. "Mistress?"

Sandoval looked over his shoulder. "Ah. Hello." He extended a hand, then shook it. Wiped it off on the blanket.

Mistress rolled her eyes and slunk out of the room as ostentatiously, Sandoval presumed, as she had arrived.

*


The two guards' arms flexed magnificently as they hefted the rug into Sandoval's quarters. The third guard tossed a ring of keys, quite expertly, over a rather sensitive part of him.

"Glorious," Sandoval observed, though he couldn't help but wince at the rasp of the keys as he pulled them free. "I intend to bestow the highest Xoan honor upon you, when next you are available."

The third guard raised an eyebrow. "Bestow, eh?" she gestured.

"Gratefully," Sandoval purred.

The second guard snickered, and the first guard shared a few gestures of her own as they exited.

The rolled rug wriggled, emitting something like a groan. Sandoval clapped his hands. "I do love unwrapping gifts." He tugged the rug open with his foot, and the apprentice's arm flopped out. "Well."

Sandoval bent over and tugged harder, until the apprentice rolled onto the stone floor. The apprentice moaned, and his hands fluttered as they covered his rather magnificent, if neglected, loins. "But why the trout to the head?"

"My splendid satyr," Sandoval said, kneeling over the apprentice's thighs. "How coy you are."

The apprentice sighed. "It's Ivan, by the way."

"Adorable," Sandoval replied, drizzling oil across the apprentice's torso, and lower. "I call mine, 'Theodosius.'"

"Theodosius?" The apprentice frowned, then gasped as Sandoval brushed against his Ivan.

"No need to be so formal," Sandoval said, folding forward until they fit properly together. "They've met before."

"AUGH," the apprentice said.

"Like the finest Xoan poetry," Sandoval said, and that was the last thing he said for a while.


###

A/N: Title and summary adapted from Daniel Bouchard's Suburban Unnecessary Vehicle. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.

Originally posted here.

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