Time: Night of October 29, Tuesday Starts at the Richmond Chantry, home of Clan Tremere in Richmond, CA (next to Berkeley)
Davic Ellysson knocked on the door to the Regent's study hesitantly. As the childe of the Tremere Regent as well as blood-bound to him, Davic was especially sensitive to his master's moods. Something was amiss.
"Come in," came the voice of the Regent through the door.
Davic entered and closed the door behind him. Seeing the pensive look on his sire's face, he decided on an approach that might get a good response from him. Davic crossed the short space quickly and knelt before the Regent's desk, sitting back on his heels, crossing his wrists behind him in the small of his back. "Sire... regnant..."
Thorne Severan looked up at that, noting with wonder his childe's abject demeanor. The sight of his beautiful Davic posing so submissively for him touched him deep within. "You haven't called me 'regnant' in some time, my dear..." Then he smiled and touched the unruly black, collar-length hair. "You're always subtly tuned into my needs, aren't you, Vic? I formed you well, bound you to myself completely, haven't I?"
"Yes, regnant," Davic murmured, finding to his amazement that he felt bound indeed, and ecstatic to be so. [Is this what Lydon felt when he gave himself to Thorne to torture?] he thought then wondered if he could ever do the same.
The Regent grasped the magus's chin, stretching his neck back. "What do I need, Vic? Tell me what you perceive of my needs..."
Thorne was indeed feeling a need to dominate, take complete possession of one of his blood-bound thralls. But they were also clansmen. He needed someone else not of Tremere blood. It was something sparked in him by seeing Julian Luna grab Gangrel primogen Cash's collar two nights ago after the Conclave. That and the blow job Julian had allowed Thorne to give him. He knew too well that if Julian had asked him to submit to him more fully, that Thorne would willingly do it. But he needed a counter-balance. It was too easy to dominate clansmen. He needed... well, the most satisfying little slave Thorne could think of adopting was Brujah chief Ian Cameron but that wasn't going to happen...
"Regnant, you need a real slave," Davic murmured, keeping still, his chin still in the Regent's grip. "I would be happy to serve as your slave..."
"Yes, of course you would," Thorne replied absently, still holding him in the same position. "I need to go outside the clan I think, however..."
The rejection Davic felt as a minute stab to the heart, but of course his sire had every right to choose whomever he wished. Perhaps Thorne didn't believe Davic could fulfill that need for his master. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he was wrong. "Even so, regnant," he whispered, eyes downcast, "please allow me to serve in the meantime."
Thorne released his lover's chin, looked at him again closely. "Vic, why are you being so submissive? This isn't usually like you..."
But Davic was remembering only too well the condition Thorne had come home in nearly a week ago after encountering the being that had tortured him - Lacroix? - at the prince's mansion. His master's pain had struck him down as well. He found he had no will to deny Thorne a single need again. "I love you, sire. Allow me..."
The Regent narrowed his eyes at his second. "Hold," he snapped. "Do not *beg*, Vic." Just that second, there came a heavy knock at the door. "Oh, what is it? Come in!" Thorne replied, barely keeping his temper in check.
Hunter hurried in and slid to his knees as well before the Regent. The large Gargoyle folded his wings on his back and bent his head, crossing his wrists before him. "Regnant," he muttered.
Thorne sighed, tapping the Gargoyle on the cheek. "Go close the door, Hunter."
Abashed, the huge creature scuttled back to shut the door of the study. In seconds he was back in position. "Punish me, master..."
"Oh, brother," Thorne said in irritation, rising to his feet. He roughly knocked Davic aside, then went to the Gargoyle, pulling on his arm to get the creature to stand. "I do not punish Gargoyles, Hunter. Do you want to break the Alliance?"
Hunter looked horrified, stumbling to his feet. "No, master!" After many centuries of being estranged from their original makers, Gargoyles had finally worked out an alliance with the Tremere, though only a few actually worked and lived with their (admitted) masters today. Most lived in their own villages in the Carpathian Mountains of Hungary. The Alliance specified that Tremere may never again abuse Gargoyles under their care, in their service.
"Then get up and return to your post, Hunter. But kiss your master first, please." Thorne sighed and laid a hand on the beast's chest.
"Yes, master!" Hunter breathed happily, and pulled the Regent into his arms, bending down to his mouth.
Thorne's heart swelled with love for the creatures his sire had, with Goriflex, created so many centuries before. It didn't matter to him that Gargoyles were not Kindred and did not have human origins. They were sentinent - NOW they were - and no others were as loving, loyal, and playful. And worthy of love and respect, especially from their Tremere masters. Thorne had ordered his Order to revere and cherish their four Gargoyles. He kissed Hunter back just as avidly.
Hunter danced out of the room a minute later, happy and secure in his master's love. Thorne, sighing with a smile, turned to see Davic still sprawled on the floor where he'd pushed him aside. "Kneel up," he commanded his second as he returned to his desk.
Davic hastily complied. Was the Regent going to accept his offer after all? Now that he'd accepted this in himself, Davic found he wanted it badly.
Thorne sighed and laid his hand on his childe's cheek as he stood before him. "Vic, my little love, you do not want this... you do not truly have it in you to be submissive to me like this. I want you to know that I accept you nevertheless. You will always be my beloved childe."
A wave of relief flooded through Davic as Thorne raised him to his feet and drew him into his arms. "I... I would still serve you..." he murmured, melting into the embrace.
"I know. Thank you, Vic, for the offer." Thorne smiled at him, then bent to kiss him tenderly.
Davic kissed his sire fervently, relaxing against him.
The phone rang. Thorne released Davic reluctantly, giving him a last smile as he went to answer the phone "Severan," he murmured into the receiver when he picked it up.
"Severan, Cameron. How's tricks?" The insolent voice of the Brujah primogen greeted him, an unwelcome noise in his ear.
"I don't do parlor tricks, Cameron," Thorne replied with a sigh. He ignored how his childe paled at hearing who was on the other end. "Sorry to disappoint you." The gentle warmth he'd just been feeling with Davic was effectively gone, replaced by the return of his uneasiness.
"Not at all," Cameron responded dryly. "Tremere, I need some information you have. Your people supposedly witnessed some of my Brujah trying to set fire to the Haven, ludicrous as that is. I need to talk to your witnesses."
[And of course it wouldn't occur to you to say 'please', you brute,] Thorne thought. "Of course," he replied smoothly. "Drop by anytime."
"No, no, no, wizard, that's just not a good idea," Cameron oozed back in an oily voice. "The Haven. Neutral territory. In an hour?"
Thorne picked up a stray pencil on his desk and broke it in half. [Fuck, I will NOT jump when he asks,] he thought angrily. "I'm not free just then, Cameron, how about two hours?" [I'll need to arrange for ample witnesses, back up support should he try to pull something,] Thorne decided.
"Very well," the Brujah replied with irritation. "Two hours. Until then, Severan."
[Great, Cameron wants to chit-chat in this midst of this,] Thorne thought, rubbing his forehead. "Vic, I think I'll be needing Sely, Del, and Ecco, if you could please fetch them..."
After Davic had gone, the Regent picked up the phone again, dialed. "Lillie?"
The Toreador primogen responded with delight. "Thorne! Well, love, when are you gracing my establishment again?"
"In two hours. To meet with Cameron."
Lillie instantly sobered. "What do you need?"
"I'll be there with two magus, no more, though I'll call some others in the city to drop in," Thorne explained. "I need Toreador support and presence, witnesses at the least. Alert the Gangrel; see if Cash's second, Stone, can be available."
"This is about the fire, isn't it?" Lillie sounded worried, knowing how dangerous Cameron could be.
"Yes," the Tremere replied somberly. "I'll put in a call to Julian as well."
Lillie responded quickly. "Thorne, you have the support of the Toreador Clan, and we will be there for you. I'll talk to the Gangrel. Anything else you need?"
"This means a great deal to me, Lillie," Thorne breathed in relief. He'd needed at least one other clan he could count on. "We will be warded, but we can adjust that when we get there to include your Toreador. I don't expect an incident, but you never know."
"Thanks, Thorne," Lillie replied with warmth. "Toreador owes Clan Tremere for saving the club, you know. I'm happy to help."
"Thanks, Lillie..."
The next call was to Camera della Luna, the prince's private number. "Julian?"
The response was warm, accepting. "Thorne, good of you to call... what can I do for you?"
Thorne glanced around... he was as yet alone. "Damn, Julian, besides reciprocating for the other night..." He let his voice go low and seductive for a moment. "No, I'm afraid this is business."
A huff of breath escaped the prince. "You're a wicked tease, Tremere... I love it. We'll have to discuss 'reciprocation' in more detail. Very soon. What business, Thorne?"
The Regent sank back down into the chair behind his desk. [Shit, I want nothing more than to crawl to the Prince on my hands and knees, offer him my ass to fuck. I don't care. Just so I get more of him soon...] Thorne murmured, willing himself to relax. "Cameron wants some information from me about the fire attempt Saturday. We're meeting at the Haven in less than two hours."
Julian replied quietly. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could just set politics and clan strife aside and just..." The prince paused. The thought of sex with the Tremere was a potent one. "I still want you..." he said in a low voice, then added, "Good luck. Thanks for calling."
Thorne closed his eyes, remembering the feel of the Ventrue body under his hands. "And I you..." [Business, Thorne,] he reminded himself. "You're welcome, my prince," he replied formally. "I'll talk to you later."
When he hung up the phone, he rose again from his desk. There was a sharp rap on the door. "Come in, Selsor," Thorne called out, moving away from his desk to face his four senior magus.
Selsor bounded in first. "Master!" she said with delight, coming over to give him a hug.
Thorne hastily intercepted her. "I have to go play games with Brujah, I'm not in the mood," he said quickly, his tone of voice businesslike and cold. He pushed her hands away.
Staring at him in shock, Selsor backed away. "Yes, Master Thorne, of course."
"Davic, Del," Thorne directed sharply, "you will go with me to the Haven. I trust you will have a detailed report to give to the Brujah primogen on what you witnessed there Saturday night."
The two magus blanched. "Yes, Sire." "Yes, Master." Thorne held his childe's gaze a bit longer, but Davic nodded, understanding.
"Selsor, Ecco, step up perimeter controls. This could be a ruse to spy on us during my absence from here." Thorne swept his coldly burning violet eyes around his senior magus. "Do not fail me..."
"Yes, Master," Selsor and Ecco quickly said together, bowing their heads. Then, prompted perhaps by Selsor, as senior to them all, the softly mental submission from all four of them: "Regnant..."
Thorne had a fleeting thought that he might be going overboard here, but, no, this shit was too potentially dangerous to ignore. An angry Brujah WAS dangerous. He nodded curtly, then left the room, Davic and Del on his heels.
It was almost a relief to reach the Haven, for it was not only a neutral territory between the clans, but he knew for sure he had support here, something he had mostly only from Julian as yet, since the Tremere were still so new in the city. As he'd hoped, the Toreador recognized him for a kindred spirit, a fellow sensualist, and they were eager to get into his good graces. Lillie had likely shared with her clansmen how good Thorne was in bed... he had it made, here. Not that he'd set out to entice them in... but it was nice that it happened that way anyway. Yet this wasn't going to be a very pleasurable call, having to deal with the Brujah.
Indeed, Toreador touched him at every turn, curious about his sensuality and magickal practices. It could have turned into a love-feast if Thorne hadn't been there on business. After setting protections on the club, Thorne directed his magus to a booth (having ignored them up to now) then went to make nice with the Gangrel contingent.
Stone, the tall, blond Gangrel second, stood as the Tremere Regent approached. When Thorne held out his hand, Stone shook it, then did a peculiar thing. He brought up the magus's hand, sniffed at it. "Cash doesn't like you," he muttered, letting it go. "But you smell all right. And you were fair with us in that Conclave." Stone shrugged, shuffling his feet. "I've got no quarrel with you."
"Thanks, Stone," Thorne murmured, putting on a genuine though small smile.
"Smokey here," Stone added, gesturing toward a small blonde woman. "She's got a touch of the gyspy. Tell 'em, Smoke."
The young Gangrel woman's eyes were wide, gazing up at the tall Tremere wizard. But she stood and faced him proudly. "I felt the magic. Wizards saved the Haven, saved all of us."
"Guess we owe you," one of the other Gangrel muttered unhappily, still sitting down.
Thorne shook his head hastily. "There is no debt to pay, if that's what you're worried about," he countered quickly. "My magus were protecting me as well." He glanced again at Smokey. "Thanks for speaking up for us."
She shrugged, so Thorne turned to go. After him, another Gangrel called out rather loudly, "So, you looking to be the next prince, Tremere?" A hush fell over a collective of Kindred within earshot. A couple Ventrue stood out, looking to the wizard for his answer. Obviously quite a number of Kindred were wondering - that old distrust of "wizards" operating.
Thorne froze, a shock riveting through him. When he turned his gaze back to the crowd, cold venom was in his eyes. "I kiss the ring of Julian Luna, the Prince of San Francisco. There will be no other."
He turned and stalked away from the Gangrel, returning to Lillie and the Toreador. "They have to ask," Lillie murmured, taking him by the arm and pressing close. "You know that."
Thorne took a deep breath. "I should be laughing. No way would the clans accept a Tremere prince here anyway. I will always be distrusted here, no matter how close to the prince I get..."
"Or because of that... Thorne, you know some wonder if you seek to manipulate Julian by getting close to him." Lillie brushed aside the hair that fell into his face. "And I know... you're getting close to him." She smiled at him slyly. "I even admire your technique..."
"Do you believe I want to manipulate him?" [Thought she knew Luna better than that,] Thorne wondered to himself. [Are we talking about the same prince?]
Lillie laughed, tracing his jawline with a finger. "That wouldn't be such a terrible thing, would it?"
[Shit.] Thorne captured her finger, put it away from him. "In this case, yes."
Just then the Brujah contingent entered, ambling down the broad staircase, about eleven of them, Cameron in the lead. Thorne looked up to watch their approach, speaking quickly to his second through their blood link, [Davic, you can identify one of the fire starters, correct?]
Davic scanned the faces of the Brujah descending the stairs. [Sire, he is with them!] He hastily shared a mental picture of the Brujah who was leading the group of fire starters last Saturday night. [That one...]
Thorne glanced at but did not make eye contact with the Brujah in question. [Cameron will deal with him. This is nice - Cam's going to be owing me a debt for discovering treachery in his house.] To his second, he sent a wave of warmth. [Indeed you serve me well, Vic.]
The Tremere second shivered, remembering their encounter earlier. [Yes, regnant, always...]
"Severan," Cameron greeted the Tremere primogen as the Brujah neared.
"Cameron," Thorne nodded, his face impassive. They shook hands, quickly, firmly. Thorne gestured toward the booth. "Let's have a seat and talk."
The Brujah primogen waved away all but two of his men, keeping his second, Charlie Wing, and another from the old regime, Hiller Igen, with him. They stood aside while he slid into the booth with Thorne.
Then Cameron looked up. There were more than the usual number of Kindred hovering rather nearby, he noticed. Toreador, mostly. His men milled around, uncertain, unwilling to let too many non-Brujah get between them and their primogen. There were other Tremere there as well, summoned from around the city. Gangrel were watching from their side of the club. Scattered Ventrue were here and there. "Busy night," Cameron muttered. He glanced at Lillie's tall, slender form over near the bar, chatting with a couple Tremere.
"The more, the merrier," Thorne countered mildly, a careful smile on his face. Tremere, like Gangrel, hated Brujah as a clan. The Regent considered this present Brujah primogen as the snake he was, always to be watched, never trusted. Not that he wouldn't consider having a little fun with him...
"These your witnesses?" Cameron gestured toward Davic and Del, attired as Thorne was in typical Tremere black tunics. He sniffed in disdain. [Like a herd of monks, dressed alike, wizards are...]
Thorne nodded. "Tell the Brujah what you saw," he directed his magus.
Davic straightened. He'd hoped for at least more eye contact with his sire, but that wasn't forthcoming. This was all business now. Quickly he related what he and Del had seen Saturday night, masked as they were magickally as mortals and pretending to be lovers more absorbed in each other than observing people on the street.
"You saw their leader," Cameron asked, frowning. He shifted in his seat, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to potential enemies.
"I can send you a mental picture of what we saw, sir," Davic explained, serious.
Cameron blanched in shock. "You can do that?"
"This is not mind reading, sir," Davic hastened on, well used to Kindred fears about mind-tampering. "I assure you this will not affect you in any way, save give you what you seek."
The Brujah cast a suspicious glance at Thorne. "What's this, some sort of game, Tremere?"
Thorne shrugged. "No game. You want the picture or not? Unfortunately we haven't yet found a way to wire our heads to a video recorder. That would be much simpler, but... this is the best we can do. Or... barring that, Davic can simply point out the leader to you. I understand he's in this room."
Cameron slid out and leaped to his feet. "This is a trick!"
The Tremere continued playing cool. "Why would this be a trick?" He'd glanced, in a general peruse of the surroundings, at the Brujah traitor, and sure enough the man had edged away from Wing and the booth. [Tremere, do not let this man escape,] he directed his people, sending along a mental picture of Hiller. "Cameron, this fire-starter threatens more than your leadership. He threatens all of our safety. I have no reason to steer you wrong."
Cameron narrowed his eyes at him, fearing to trust but having no choice. "Who is it?"
Suddenly Hiller bolted for the door, but ran into a wall of Tremere. He literally bounced off that wall into the arms of Brujah, who dragged him to the booth.
"Hiller?" Cameron inquired, blank shock on his face, followed swiftly by anger. "I accepted you from Eddie's leavings, kept you close to me... and you repay me like this? Don't answer. Charlie, have him gagged and chained, put him in the trunk. We'll deal with him back in my office."
Charlie Wing, smirking, replied, "You got it, boss," and gestured for the men holding Hiller to precede him out of the club.
Cameron dropped back onto the seat. "I owe you a debt, Tremere," he admitted reluctantly, the words nearly gagging him in the throat. [Fuck, fuck, fuck...]
Thorne leaned back, suddenly feeling extremely relaxed, even playful. "Yes, you do. And I think I know a way for you to repay it." While Cameron gaped at him in fury, Thorne got up. [Davic, Del, go find some Toreador to play with, eh?] He let his clansmen get out of the booth then slid back in.
"Listen, Tremere," Cameron started in angrily.
"Oh, it's not that big a deal," Thorne interrupted. "Take it easy..." He smiled, tracing a circle on the table with his finger.
The Brujah glanced at the finger, nervous. [What, is that some sort of magic gesture?] "Okay, then what is it?"
"You know, we should talk more, get to know one another." Trace, trace.
"I'll buy you dinner. Can I go now?"
Thorne smiled. "Not yet." He leaned forward, his long hair falling over part of his face. "You know, Cameron, you're very tense. What do you do to relax?"
Cameron frowned, then realized something was nudging up against his foot under the table. Abashed, he realized it was the Tremere's booted toe. "Ah, target practice at pictures of Julian Luna usually does it for me..."
"Not very creative, but then, you're Brujah," Thorne replied, his voice subtly lower.
"Oh, and you have just the thing to suggest to me, wizard?" Cameron was a bit discomfited, irritated with the Tremere but also intrigued. [A game, he wants to play a game... this *could* get interesting...] He looked over the man opposite him, for once looking past the fact of his clan to note his masculine beauty, seductive nature.
"I might." Thorne murmured, glancing down at his tracing finger again. He edged his toe higher, making contact with Cameron's ankle. "Surely power isn't the only thing you're interested in, Cameron. Our kind indulges in... many things..."
Cameron couldn't resist playing along, intrigued at just how far this could go. He leaned forward, moving his leg to increase the contact. "Indeed we do and can... and I'm assuming you do wherever you can, wizard, and with whomever? I know you've already had Lillie..." Despite his willingness to go along, he couldn't help snapping off this last.
"You know, Cam," Thorne responded, leaning back again, still smiling, "You could go far if you could just manage to be a little nicer to people."
"As far as prince?" the Brujah immediately shot back.
"Not in this city," the Tremere grinned. "But we were talking about Lillie... you know, you're not all that hard on the eyes." He paused to let his gaze look the slim, polished Brujah over appreciatively - no matter that the thought of sex with a Brujah made him almost gag. "If you didn't have such a chip on your shoulder, flaunt your primogenship, she might enjoy a tussle with you. You push away more people than you draw to you." He gestured around where various Tremere and Toreador were in playfully amorous entanglements. "We'd all get along so much better!"
Cameron narrowed his eyes, then put his elbows on the table and leaned in closer. "You're planning to sleep your way into the prince's chair, aren't you?"
Thorne laughed loud and long. Several Tremere looked over, for the clear, pure sounds of enjoyment were rarely heard so from their master. "Cameron," Thorne replied when he could speak, "My only interest in the prince's chair is to suck his cock while Luna's sitting in it! Me sit in it? What the hell for?"
"Power," Cameron oozed, sliding closer. He laid a finger along the back of Thorne's hand. "We could take him together, Severan..."
[Oh, he is just too delicious,] Thorne thought, still grinning. [So single-minded, bent on one tiny little thing...] "Tremere and Brujah rule San Francisco together?" He chuckled, lifting his hand and, taking Cameron's index finger, ran two fingers along its length in an obviously sexual gesture. "The only word for a notion like that is 'silly', Brujah."
Cameron stiffened - likely in more than just his back - at the gesture. "You wicked tease, Tremere," he gasped, sucking in his breath, though he didn't pull his hand away. Never mind that a couple of his clansmen were looking at him from across the room with an expression that could be either horror or envy. "Suck my dick..." he sneered, snake smile back.
Thorne chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the tease with his enemy. "You owe me a debt, Brujah. Suck *mine*."
The Brujah tore his hand away, staring in astonishment at the other's audacity. "You fucking bastard..."
"I could fuck you after that, I suppose..."
Suddenly Cameron laughed out loud. "Oh, you are one piece of work, Severan! No fucking way!"
Thorne abruptly leaned forward again and grasped the Brujah's wrist. "Yes, way. You owe me. That's how the debt is to be paid. You're going to suck my cock, Brujah."
Cameron stared at him in disbelief. This wasn't a game. The Tremere wizard was completely serious. "Let go of me," he whispered.
Thorne let go. "We're Kindred, Cam. We go either way. Is this a problem, some little human thing you cling to? That's too fucking damn bad if it is."
The Brujah primogen shifted his position, straightening his tie and suit jacket, primping to hide his astonishment and dismay. He'd been so smoothly maneuvered. "Not a problem. But I think I will live with a debt," he grumbled. "This one."
The Tremere primogen looked deep into the other man's eyes. [Oh, no, you will pay your debt,] Thorne thought directly into Cameron's mind. [I won't make you lose face before your clansmen, don't worry. But you're going to take my cock into your mouth and suck me off nicely. Oh, and by the way, no one has heard this conversation. The booth is protected. And no one saw us touching.]
Cameron stilled, frozen in shock at the reference to the use of magic. It didn't help at all that the thought of tasting Tremere cock was indeed inviting. [Shit.]
[You make great noise and bluster, Brujah,] the magus continued, holding his opponent's gaze. [But you're not fit to lick the grime off Julian Luna's shoes. Mess with me? Brujah, you're not even in my LEAGUE. Just be glad I didn't ask you to suck the Prince's cock. Though that's a nice idea...]
"Good evening," Cameron said evenly, gritting his teeth so he wouldn't panic before his clansmen. He slid out of the booth and stood. [Just let me save face on this... and we'll see.]
Thorne sat back, his arms wide across the back of the booth, posing somewhat provocatively. "You'll be hearing from me, Brujah. But I suggest you clean your house first."
Cameron met the Tremere's gaze. "I'm going to find your worst enemy, Tremere, get in bed with HIM, and together we're going to tear you apart by hand. Then I'm going to expose you to Luna for the true danger you really are." He pointed a finger at him, his voice low and sneering. "Mark my word."
"Words, yes, you're good at those," Thorne retorted with a smile. "Good evening, Brujah." [You have no idea what you're missing...]
Cameron snorted, turned on a heel, and left. Hastily a band of his Brujah closed in behind him, following him up the stairs and out of the club.
[Well, that was real intelligent,] Thorne morosely told himself as he sighed, looking after the retreating Brujah. [Now I've got the Brujah primogen more pissed off than ever. Good going, Thorne...nice work.]
A glass of red wine was set down in front of him. "Lillie tells me your fond of Toreador," murmured a deep voice. "I can see why..." The man eyed him, admiring the sprawled Tremere draped over the booth. "You're practically one of us."
Thorne sighed and looked up to see a tall, muscular Toreador male with gray ice eyes and long, coal-black, straight hair. "Especially when they're as gorgeous as you, Toreador." He looked him over appreciatively, took a long swig from the glass of wine, then slid out of the booth to stand before him. They were the same height, at least 6'2". "Thanks for the wine. What's your name?"
"Argon," the other replied, smiling when the magus slipped his hands around his waist. "I'm a performance artist."
The Tremere grinned seductively, drawing the man's body against his. "I can imagine you... perform... rather well..." [Shit, I could use a good, hard fuck... and I like 'em big like this...]
Argon grinned in response, sliding a hand up the magus's chest. "I take pride in my work..."
"Ahem," came an unwelcome voice. Looking down, Thorne met the eyes of the Brujah primogen, returned... and without his retinue. "Severan, I have one more issue to discuss with you, if you don't mind." Cameron, his arms crossed over his chest, looked up at the two beautiful men patiently. The sneering quality of his voice had given way to something more serious. "Please."
[The day just got even more interesting,] Thorne considered, looking down at the shorter man - Cameron was more the prince's height, about 5'10" - "Cameron, what do you think - two for the price of one?" He indicated the Toreador, unable to keep back a smirk.
But apparently the Brujah had resolved to ignore the sexual innuendos the Tremere obviously could not help inserting into their conversation, because he did not flinch this time. "Some other time," he said mildly, though his nostrils flared slightly at the invitation. Undeniably, Thorne Severan was as beautiful, as sensuous as this magnificent Toreador in his arms. [Next *lifetime*,] he promised himself with a sigh. "May I speak to you alone, Tremere?"
[Oooh, maybe he intends to get that debt taken care of after all,] Thorne wondered, smiling. "By all means, Brujah," he replied to Cameron, then leaned in to Argon's ear, whispering. "Wait for me..."
Argon smiled, nodding.
The two primogen removed themselves to Lillie's office in the back of the club when she indicated, with a curious smile, that they could use it. Thorne led the other there, and Cameron closed the door behind him after they entered. Facing the Brujah, Thorne crossed his arms over his chest and rested his weight back on one heel, intrigued that this little spitwad of a Brujah wanted to talk to him in private. "What's on your mind, Cameron?" he asked, choosing for the moment to drop the teasing as well.
Cameron looked up at the tall wizard. "Do you know about Manzanita?" he asked without preamble.
"No... should I?" Thorne asked curiously. [Hmmm, a story is coming...]
"Absolutely," replied the Brujah firmly, resolve in his voice. "You should know the flip side to Julian Luna, Tremere. Especially as you seem so... taken with him. He is not as he seems."
Thorne nodded, considering. "Nor am I. Nor are you, I would hope. We stay alive by being multi-dimensional, many layered, always adapting to the moment."
Cameron also nodded, tersely. "But a prince who rules with brute force should not pretend otherwise," he countered. "Luna professes to want peace between the clans, but his history proves otherwise."
The magus narrowed his eyes. "Tell me about Manzanita."
Cameron, his eyes glittering with suppressed hatred, did.
The Tremere Regent had heard that Julian had been the enforcer for the previous prince, Archon, also Ventrue. "The slaughter at Manzanita was not Luna's fault," Thorne spoke finally, a bit daunted by the rage radiating from the slender frame of the other man. "By your own admission, it was Archon's order to advance his personal vendetta against your sire, Sorrel. You killed Archon, so that blood debt has been paid. Why then do you continue the vendetta against his childe? Just because Luna obeyed orders to kill your clansmen?"
Cameron, his hands still clenched into fists, spoke quietly, though his eyes faintly glowed silver. "Sorrel sent me to Chicago to learn how to be prince, to learn the ways of Ventrues. I did that, then returned to take Archon's city from him."
"It's no longer Archon's city," Thorne murmured.
"Luna killed my sire!" Cameron snapped. Then he stabbed a finger at the magus. "You, who prefers to make love not war, you wouldn't understand the rage in my heart, Tremere! I was foolish to come back. How could you possibly understand? Here, I thought at least reason might make sense to you..."
"Cameron," Thorne spoke quietly, edging nearer and laying a hand on the Brujah's arm, "I'm sorry to hear about Sorrel. Believe me, I will be happy to inquire of the prince about that. But Julian Luna is not Archon. He did not know that he was carrying out Archon's vendetta against your clan. He believed Brujah were slaughtering innocents. Don't fault the man for trusting his sire..."
The Brujah shrugged the hand off, but the anger was dissipating. "He has Archon's tendencies for letting personal agendas mar his rule, Thorne. That cannot be... you know he is protecting mortals who have learned of the Masquerade?"
Thorne crossed his arms over his chest, tensing. "Some mortals who know of us can be invaluable allies, Cameron." He thought briefly of the two who were NOT mentioned at the Conclave. [I must contact them soon,] he thought to himself, thinking of the young Shaman. "This law cannot be absolute. Besides, Frank Kouhanek has been Embraced anyway, so that's a moot point."
Cameron scowled, but he knew the Tremere was right. Indeed, after the Conclave, Cameron did try to find Kouhanek, possibly to foil the Embrace, take the man for Brujah instead, but apparently that possibility had been thought of and Kouhanek was nowhere to be found. It was just as well, he supposed. Embracing Kouhanek as Brujah would have made Julian Luna one unhappy puppy.
"It is Kindred law to Embrace or kill mortals who have breached the Masquerade," Cameron countered. "He must be made to enforce it with the others."
"No laws are that absolute," Thorne said mildly.
"Luna's ARE," snapped the Brujah. "I see he's taken you in, charmed you, Tremere. I thought your clan had more intelligence than that."
"And I would have thought even Brujah were intelligent enough," Thorne threw right back, "to understand that people CHANGE, that even Julian Luna can unite the clans, keep the peace of the Masquerade that our survival depends upon!"
Cameron narrowed his eyes at the magus. "You know, I still don't understand... why aren't you bucking to become prince yourself, Tremere?" He laughed wickedly. "I mean, look at you! You're charismatic, beautiful, the Toreador are already in your lap, and I have no doubt you'll charm Gangrel and even Ventrue in time... why not you? You're obviously older and more powerful than Luna..."
"Power isn't everything," Thorne shot back, wearily. "I don't WANT it. It's not about what I could become, what I could get, not for me. I know that's a stretch for a Brujah to grasp, but..."
"Give me a little credit here," Cameron interrupted. "Okay, yeah, I crave power, I'm a Brujah, we understand power and what it can bring, but I'm not STUPID." Then he laughed. "Oh, I get it - you crave PEACE, is that it? Man, you're the stupid one - we're Kindred! Rage, lust, greed, violence... these are in our BLOOD, Tremere!"
"We are not locked into the dictates of our blood, Cameron, or we should be nothing better than robots. Don't you ever get tired of your anger?"
The Brujah shook his head. "Anger feeds my soul, keeps me going."
"But if you didn't keep Brujah greed in check, you'd self-destruct," Thorne countered. "Or break the Masquerade, exposing us all."
Cameron nodded. "Point taken." He subsided, looking curiously at the magus. "I was right after all. You are amenable to a little reason."
Thorne nodded, primogen to primogen. "And I believe I understand you a little better. Thanks for telling me your side of Manzanita."
The two blood enemies regarded each other for a moment longer, then Thorne murmured, beginning a smile, "I believe the exchange of information tonight has been mutual. The matter of the little debt between us... has been paid. Though the offer still stands..."
Cameron grinned wickedly. "As does mine..."
Thorne grinned back. [I still distrust you, you little son of a bitch, but it was useful to talk to you,] he thought to himself. "Good night, Cameron."
[You're a conniving wizard and I don't trust you, you manipulating bastard,] Cameron thought to himself, [but at least you're a little more open now to suspect the truth about Julian's apparent sainthood.] "Good night, Thorne."
Thorne sank into an upholstered chair in the office, more tired of Brujah than he'd ever remembered being. Sighing, he propped his head up on a hand and closed his eyes.
The door to the office quietly clicked open, then closed as someone entered. Thorne smiled, already knowing who it was. "Sorry for the interruption, Argon."
The Toreador immediately knelt before the chair, a hand laid carefully next to Thorne's leg. "May I touch you?"
"Yes, please touch me all you like," Thorne sighed. "Call me Thorne, always. It will be a relief not to have to be primogen, Regent, regnant with you." As the man ran his hands up the magus's thighs, kneading and caressing, Thorne began to relax finally. Argon's hands were sure, slow, and adept.
"When I first saw you, Thorne," Argon began a bit shyly, "I knew I wanted to be with you, hoped you would find me acceptable." He smiled charmingly. "I know you can take me where I've never been before..."
"Acceptable!" Thorne chuckled. "Everything about you so far is more than acceptable!"
Argon, pushing up against the chair, drew Thorne's tunic up toward his waist and began to open the fly of his pants. Suddenly his wrist was encased in a steel grip.
"Oh, I want that," Thorne murmured. "But not here. Come home with me... but first..." The Tremere jerked the Toreador forward, then claimed his mouth with his.
The unbalancing sent a deep shiver of excitement through the Toreador's body and he yielded eagerly to the kiss. But as his tongue twined around that of the Tremere, he heard a voice in his head: [Yield to me, Toreador, all your thoughts. I need no spies in my bed, only loving companions. Yield and you may become one of those.] Then, in his own dark thoughts he continued, [Take you where you've never been before? You have no idea...]
Argon, surprised, nevertheless opened his mind fully to the magus. He froze as his innermost thoughts, compartments, motivations were all taken out and examined, the Tremere Regent effectively doing a security sweep on a potential lover. Nothing, fortunately, was found to trouble the wizard. He wouldn't have put it past Lillie to keep tabs on him, especially after he'd been talking privately with Cameron. But Argon had sought Thorne out of his own volition, intrigued after hearing Lillie talk about him so enthusiastically. And learning the fact that Thorne tended to prefer men in his bed, had sealed it.
Thorne broke the kiss, his eyes hooded, his thumbs caressing the other's face. "Now I can let you near me. Now I can enjoy you," he sighed.
The Toreador was still shaken, though very stimulated. "What if you'd found something you didn't like?"
"You would be punished. I have a great deal of skill in that area." Thorne released him and set his clothes back to rights. He couldn't wait to get out of here - the stench of Brujah was still in the air.
Back in the club, trailing Argon behind him, his fingers entwined with his, Thorne summoned Davic and Del to return to the chantry.
The End
