Part 10- Little By Little (A/k/a all bath scenes, all the time!)
[Version 1.0]

The shirt landed with a quiet plop atop his recovered sneaker, and 
Ran went as still as a statue on his stone chair, hands white 
knuckled on its scratchy surface. His instincts were warning him to 
bolt, and never mind the shirt, the shoe, the fact that Ken had 
nestled himself between his sprawled legs, thus preventing him from 
making a smooth escape-- one that didn't involve him harming 
Ken. 

Of course, he'd only done that when truly angry, and usually only 
after the other boy had thrown a punch. Even then, Ken had always 
matched him, sometimes surpassed him in dealing blow for blow. 

However, Ran wasn't angry now, and Ken wasn't throwing any punches. 
Just tiny little grazings of his fingertips, the heavier weight of 
his gaze across his bare skin. 

He shivered all the same. 

"...You don't have to do this." 

Ken only hmm-ed absently, now too busy toying with his eartails to 
notice. More than once did his fingers brush the fragile curves of 
his collarbones. Ran nervously drew one arm across his chest, 
gripping his upper arm as if he suddenly felt the need to protect 
himself. Protect Ken. 

He steeled himself to look more intimidating, but the effect was 
ruined by the quaver in his voice when he spoke. "I don't need to be 
consoled." 

Ken only tilted his head a little, as if he were scrutinizing 
something he thought odd. Perhaps he did find him odd...No, that was 
a certainty. 

At any rate, his findings didn't stop the blue-eyed boy from melding 
his mouth to Ran's, kissing him again, and again; wearing him down 
bit by bit. 

Compelling Ran to slowly unwind his shielding limb from where he'd 
slung it and drape it and its mate over Ken's shoulders instead.

***

Ken reached up and stroked one of his lover's elbows, let his hands creep then 
onto his naked back, where he traced his shoulder blades as he ceased his kisses 
and nuzzled his stunned lips with the end of his nose, chuckling faintly.

Mostly at himself, and he tried to find some way to say so that wouldn't let him 
fall over it's own two feet, but he neither did well, nor worried over it.  

Ran not only smelled like milk, tasted of cream... he FELT like milk in his arms- 
impossibly smooth and soft and wanting so very much to go spattering to the 
floor.  So Ken held him only lightly at first, as he might have cradled a captured 
bird.  Found his body gave way to his own if he dared cuddle him closer, was not 
as stiff as he had guessed.

"You feel really nice in my arms," he told him then, deepening their embrace but 
slowly until they were scrunched up on one another's shoulders.  He wrapped in 
the sensation of his lover's heart clamoring... he wondered how Ran was feeling 
him... as some alien caress so unearthly such a boy as himself did not deserve it? 
As a fool clinging to something only because he had been asked, only because 
that was what fools in his place did? As anything else besides the Hidaka Ken he 
cared to call his own?

He looked to his eyes again, which were dark as if he had gone sleepy.  Half 
closed, deep and too soothed for comfort.  And so purple... "This is me, I 
promise, OK?"

And not another word then from the gentle velvet of his voice.  Just a breathing 
whisper.  Like when they had been in the library... He coaxed Ran to standing 
and then drew him away from the stone where they had been sitting and stretched 
him out on the shady grass.

Then he sat down beside him, leaning on only one of his knees as he started 
playing with his hair.

***

The blades of grass prickled his skin here, tickled there; was 
crushed even further as he settled himself, enveloping them both in 
its tart fragrance. Crickets began warming up for their nightly 
concert. Ran scarcely noticed any of it. He was too busy succumbing 
to the feel of Ken's hand in his hair, and eventually he started to 
relax.    

And in the process of doing so, his mind began to freely wander over 
the reasons why for Ken's sudden change of heart.  

And that pondering led his thoughts down the dark path where the 
hardest, most unpalatable of truths lurked.  For once, Ran forced 
himself to examine his own.    

After a time of staring up into the burning blue of the late 
afternoon sky, he grudgingly realized that Ken was right.  He finally 
admitted and accepted a truth to which he had long been blind, and as 
shaming as it was, he knew he couldn't hide from it anymore. 

Takatori had died on the end of his katana's blade, but still nothing 
had changed. Aya didn't wake up as he had hoped, and after that, Ran 
couldn't shake the feeling that all his training had been pointless. 
He'd carried on only to convince himself that it hadn't been, instead 
of moving on.  The spell had remained in tact, both over her and over 
him. Even from the grave, Takatori was messing with his life, and he 
was letting him get away with it. 

But no more.  Things had already taken an unexpected, promising 
change with his departure from that life.  It was up to him now to 
try and make it work.   

Tentatively, Ran lay a hand on Ken's leg, just to touch him and 
nothing more. 

"You don't really know me," he began quietly. "I never gave you the 
opportunity. I never really gave that to anyone."

Ran lifted his hand away from his leg, and placed it just as gently 
on his cheek. Brushed his thumb over his mouth. 

"So maybe...If I show you more of myself..."

"...Maybe you will love me too."

***

Ken laid his hand atop that which had settled against his cheek, sliding it away 
until its Ran's fingers tickled his lashes. He mouthed the faint blue lines under the 
pale skin of his wrist then- not really kissed, and not really nibbled; gazed down 
on him now as twilight only just began to tremble in, her quivering made more 
noticeable by the shaking of the gauzy clouds which surrounded her.  

And Ran did smile.  The littlest curve of his strawberry and cream lips.

Still cradling his lover's hand, he bent and kissed him again, intending a mere 
brush of their mouths.

Ran however, all but lunged for him with his tongue and he started at first, pulling 
away and blinking dumbly, much to his own abashment.

/Ok, this is gonna take some getting used to... it just is but.../

One he returned with a fragile sort of relish- a slow caress that drifted past their 
lips.

/I do like it./

A little disconcerted moan greeted him when he tried to tug away, and it made 
him giggle.

"Just a sec! Let me get settled and everything."

/I can do impatient./

Settled he decided, after primping himself this way and that, happened to be more 
or less curled around Ran- his red fluff propped in the crook of his arm, the other 
gliding gently against him, and his leg wrapped close to one of his lover's. 

"There we go.  Is this whatcha had in mind? Or was it more..."

He might have undone the snap of his jeans then, Ran's, bearing his waist as low 
as he dared, and preferring to fumble with him at first through the denim that 
covered his splayed thighs and the little dip where they joined his body.

*** 

Ran had figured that Ken wouldn't have honored his request; that he 
would balk at the last and run off, and he would have had to take 
care of things himself under the shifting, dusky sky. 

That he had decided to indulge him was nothing short of a miracle in 
Ran's opinion. The sensation was a novel one, and those toying 
little caresses soon had the whole of his focus. His lids half-
veiled his amethystine eyes, the color of them now reflected in the 
sky above them; lips parted and pinking gradually. He wanted to 
speak but the words wouldn't come. 

So he reached up and snarled his fingers around Ken's collar. The 
heavy fabric strained over his aching, swelling flesh, and his hips 
twitched upwards slightly, as if on their own volition. The faintest 
tinge of red crept over his face and throat. Ken's fingers inched 
upwards again, only to dart back to graze his inner thighs. Ran 
wriggled restlessly, and turned his burning violet gaze upon Ken. 

Then, with an impatient little moan, he snaked his unencumbered arm 
around Ken's neck and pulled him down for an ardent kiss.

***

It was one of those dark, wet kisses.  Wet because their lips crushed one another 
away- because he could feel them each dripping a little.  Ran's fingers darted up 
and mopped at his cheek and he shooed them away at first, ended up holding them 
with his own, pinned like a broach of amber over ivory in the indigo threads of 
the forget-me-not patch which ran in a crescent aside of their nest, tipped by the 
hill.

Dark because his vision was blurry and so deeply brilliant when he finally eased 
away, he thought at first he had lost his sight, or would be loosing it soon, in one 
spectacular burst.  In part it was the coming night, the first approach of that 
procession of hers, riddled with dreams, as his hands were dusted with the after-
touch of Ran.  

He found though when he tried to pull his hand away, it would not be surrendered 
to him, though a little winking smile was, there under the clouds which parted, 
and offered them one last breath of full light before the sunset in earnest began.  
The wind picked up and tapped at them both.  

"Ok, we can do it this way.  I don't mind."

One more kiss, albeit much shorter, and only of his own desires then.

"I don't mine one bit."

Saying so, Ken, tucked his lover's head back against the grass.  Coaxing his legs 
apart, he knelt between then, grinning impishly, for with their hands still clasped, 
there was no way he could had avoided leaned against Ran's bare torso.

As he was now.

Just barely touching him.

Even with the flickering caress he lead down from the crook of his shoulder- the 
wounded one, down the center of his heart and across the little swoop of his 
second old wound.  A curlicue he drew around his navel.

And then he pressed his mouth to his neck and the fresh bruise there at the same 
moment he slipped inside his jeans.  And rubbed him.  Just a little.

*** 

Ran let out a tiny moan. Gasped violently, his breath snagging in 
his chest. It was just a minute caress, but it was so heavenly. It 
was so much better than the feel of his own hand coursing over his 
skin. He wanted to just lie there and let Ken play with him, wanted 
to touch him just the same. He knew he couldn't do either. 
Nevertheless, Ran had to force himself to lift his hand
to deal the most ambiguous of touches the could think of giving. 
Petted his hair, lightly stroked his back. Dared to slide it just 
under his shirt tail, to graze the dip of his lower back. 

That earned him another, slightly firmer little rub to his throbbing 
sex. Another easy bite of his neck. Ran arched, and drew his legs 
up, thighs rubbing against Ken's hips. His toes curling within 
their cloth prison. His jeans crept a little down his hip 
with his wriggling. 

In a frenzy, Ran snatched his hand away from the small of his lover's 
back, and grabbed the back of his neck, interrupting the gentle 
nibbling and sucking in order to kiss Ken, and passionately. 

"...Please, Ken," he whispered, brushing their bruised lips 
together. "Please. I...I won't force you to do anything you 
don't...want. I just want..."

"Touch me more," he begged. "Touch me anywhere you want. 
I'll...I'll behave."

***

Ken gasped, and the writhing body beneath his started so hard he felt as if he was 
about to be dumped into the grass for a second and left.  But he was still then, his 
lover.  Very still, but for his deep breathing and little swallowing noises.  Fingers 
freed, he reached up and combed his bangs from his forehead, just watching the 
way he blinked and scrunched his eyes up when he fingered the tip of his shaft.

"I didn't think you were acting funny at all! I really didn't! I was just outta 
breath."  An earnest little chuckle as he bent and licked at his panting lips, still 
petting, and maybe pinching a little.  His palm coasted onto one of his hips, but 
just for a moment.

"Ok, so I've never really seen anyone go this totally wild just gettin'..."

He gulped then, and felt a very strong blush take his nose.

/Oh you stupid jerk!/

He wanted to slap himself, but rather, with a heavy sigh, he pressed their 
foreheads together, and lingered in the realm of his stinted breath.

"I'm sorry, Ran.  I forgot you were a virgin.  I'm the one who should be telling 
you I'll behave.  Woul, that and..."

He took his wrists in his hands and guided them to take a hold of his silk shirt, 
drew it off.  Lead it to land wherever in the shadows of the sunset that had only 
just begun to blush, seeing them there.  Chest now naked, he felt no shame in 
snuggling up to Ran's, more or less, for he took him in both hands now, kissed his 
throat once more as he held him.

"Is there anywhere special you want touched?"

***  

"...No...I mean, anywhere you want. Whatever...you think would feel 
good. Not that what you're doing doesn't feel good..."

Ken's tongue flicked down the center of his throat and over one 
collar bone, robbing Ran of what little coherent speech he still 
possessed. 

"...Um, yeah."

His lover chuckled low and sultry against his skin, and the hands 
around him began to move ever so slowly. Ran relaxed fully on their 
verdant bed with a sensual little sigh, and brought his own hands up 
to Ken's shoulders. 

They didn't stay there long, though, for Ran was eager to explore the 
curves and planes of his lover's body--those parts of it that Ken had 
given him tacit permission to touch. With eyes closed he began, and 
his hands trembled the tiniest bit when he let them fall down the 
flat of his lover's chest, noting the solid muscle, how soft his skin 
felt; feeling the distant beat of his heart. The ridges of his ribs, 
barely seen under his skin, could be felt only when Ran pressed his 
palms against Ken's sides. 

He let his fingers wander further, over the shallow dip of his waist, 
into the well of his navel, his own hips rocking upwards against 
Ken's hands. Ran moaned a little, and clutched at his hips, 
squeezing.

Cracked open his eyes just a bit to find Ken watching him so 
intently. 

Ran brought one hand up to Ken's face, to sweep the dark shock of 
hair away from his forehead, grazing his brow, his cheek, and then 
chin as he drew it down again. 

His gaze trailed even lower, to light again on his chest. Struck by 
inspiration, he moistened two fingers and his thumb with his tongue, 
and sought out one caramel-tinted nipple, pinching it gently in 
mimicry (he hoped) of suckling.

***

Ken was charmed. He didn't know how else to put it. He didn't know 
anything that wasn't glossy and safe as being lost in the hills with 
his Ran, the faintly glowing rush of sheer sensuality. But somehow 
now, here without the bother of his own body. Well, at least at 
first.

Ran, it seemed, designed to change that.

And it was this that so enchanted him, even if he went without 
longings himself for the time being, and it made it want to cover 
himself up and simper like a school boy whenever his crotch brushed 
his lover, because it did, and still he didn't stir inside. 

But Ran didn't seem to mind- just let his fingers flutter away 
from the shiny wings which were forever sealed against his back. He 
just touched him, and held still enough to be loved slowly out in the 
meadow. If it was even theirs... had they made it back to the Villa's 
grounds? And who cared if they did.

He kept thinking he should be frustrated, but he wasn't. The curious 
touches were just that, and yet... they so reminded him of his lover. 
He stilled himself for a moment, all but his hands, and looked into 
his eyes then. Watched him kiss his own finger tips. He wanted to 
kiss them too, later, inside, to remind him, and make up for not 
doing such a thing himself in the first place. That and the 
delightful little pinches they bestowed upon him. 

"Mmm, that feels very nice, sweetheart."

He thanked him with a kiss, a sexy recap of all the kisses they had 
had before.

"Would you like me to rub you right there a little bit?"

Just the smallest of nods. He scarce needed to take any notice of it 
though. Ran's gentle whimper was enough of a request. So he took 
one of his pinkish little buds under the palm of one hand, and swept 
it with the inside of his knuckles.

***

Ran expressed his enjoyment via murmurs and quiet gasps; stretched 
wantonly under his hands. He ceased his fingers' teasing and palmed 
the darkened, puckered bit of flesh instead, alternately stroking and 
squeezing. 

But all he could think about was how he might taste. How he might 
react, if he would react at all. Would he let him? Would he be 
spooked? Ran didn't want that, no. However...

Without much warning, Ran rolled upright, but made no move to move 
away from Ken. Instead, he lay his hands atop Ken's, silently asking 
him to continue. When his lover did, he leaned forward to give him a 
kiss. 

"Does it have to be all about me, and only me?" he asked, curling his 
arms around his back. "If so...what if I said I wanted to touch you 
too? Of course, I'd stop..." One finger slid down Ken's chest and 
stomach until it reached the top button of his jeans. "...here." 

"And by touch, I don't mean with my hands. I mean, like this."

He bent his head and placed an open mouthed kiss to the side of Ken's 
neck.

***

"But I'm all sweaty," Ken jested as gently as he could, nudging Ran 
from his shoulder so he might get to his knees, and crouch there on 
the lap of his lover, lingering in his inquisitive gaze. Still 
petting his aching form, he caressed one ear tail, which bore only 
the faintest dampness yet, the softness of his bath and the bubbles 
that had once touched it.

He had to nibble his own lip to keep from chuckling, for he realized 
the fluff between his legs felt much the same way. The arm on his 
back was edging away though, and Ran looked as if he found he'd said 
something wrong.

"I'll just be really salty. It's OK. You didn't have to ask. Not 
about that."

He sighed, and the full form, stinted as with unshed tears, that his 
thoughts took then ran throughout his breath. He sounded like 
someone who had not been held in a very, very long while.

/Finally./

/It's true after all./

"This is *your* first time. But if that's all you want... that's not a 
lot to ask and I... well... you've got the softest lips..."

A little jostle of his hips and he settled himself in the well of 
Ran's lap, as Ran curled against him, weaving a stuttering line of 
kisses down the center of his chest, for he continued to shudder now 
and again with his moans, now and again cry out against his skin. 
Knowing it wouldn't last too much longer, their little tryst out in 
the meadow, Ken squeezed his lover's shoulders, and wished they had a 
year to sit so with their legs all twined together.

***

Or, it was good for Schuldich.  Nagi had his own opinion of the 
tintinnabulations, one which he expressed not by uttering harsh criticism, but by 
leaving altogether.  Off to one side of the altar, down two dust-glossed steps and  
half-hidden by a pair of swirled white 
pillars, stood a nondescript door.  

And where there was a door, there was a means to escape.  Without a 
word, Nagi slipped off towards it and through it, and found a 
staircase, one that twisted slightly at the top.  Beyond that lay a 
passageway, tinted all shaded by more stained glass of non-biblical 
design.  Flowers, mostly, except for one which depicted an owl 
catching a bat in its claws.  That one garnered a look of "What the 
hell...?" from Nagi before the boy pressed on.  

As it turned out, he was in the residential part of the church.  On 
that floor were a two bedrooms, separated by a bathroom, both the 
barest of cells, and only slightly larger in size than the sort a 
monk might have owned.  Clear glass windows and not stained glass--a 
discovery that made Nagi feel a bit let down.  

At the other end of the hallway he spotted two other staircases, one 
going up, the other down.  Neither he cared very much to explore, as 
he figured they weren't much different.  And he had pretty much made 
up his mind where he wanted to be.  

The question was--Was Savil in agreement?  

He walked out into the hallway to ask her. 

***

As for Crawford, he was oblivious to the noise. He was much too busy 
negotiating the finer points of the deal with the realtor. 

"Everything has been checked out, right? The plumbing and so 
forth?" 

"Oh, yes, Mr. Crawford. Here is the handyman's signed checklist if 
you want a copy."

"Um...Yes, yes." Crawford took the thin yellow slip and laid it 
aside. "And the housekeepers?" 

"Will be here the day after you take possession. They are a very 
reliable crew." 

"Yes, I'm sure they are," he murmured wryly. 

"There's...just one thing I feel I should tell you..."

"Does it have to do with the building being ready for occupation?"

"Well, no..."

"Then, nevermind all that. Just tell me where to sign." 

Biting her lip, she handed him the transfer of ownership papers on a 
clipboard, and he decorated them with his name. She in turn looked 
on as if she were witnessing a miracle. 

The papers were whisked off the clipboard and into her briefcase for 
safekeeping quickly, as if she feared he would suddenly change his 
mind. "I'll be in touch with Valdemar City Bank about the mortgage 
details, or isn't that where you said you had an ac...What are you 
doing?

Crawford gave her a look. "I'm making out a check." 

"You...You are?"

"Haven't you ever seen anyone do that before?" It came away with a 
satisfying rip and he dangled it in front of her face. "Keys 
please." 

"Oh...Oh, yes." She fumbled again in her briefcase and drew out a 
slender iron ring, from which dangled four skeleton keys. Just the 
very set that the head priest had worn from the belt of his cassock. 

"We are even now. You have your money and I own this outright." 

She stared at the check as if it were a mirage. "You paid in full."

"Congratulations. You can read." Crawford closed up his checkbook, 
gathered up his papers, and nodded at the door. "Our transaction has 
now concluded, and I must go and fetch my lover from his play. Good 
day, Madame Realtor." 

She was gone in a flash. Just as the inner doors shut, however, he 
heard a distinctly feminine screech of delight, one which was drowned 
out by the sultry throb of the bells. Crawford spun on his heels and 
set off for the tower. 

He felt like he'd just walked onto the set of "The Hunchback of Notre 
Dame," for said belltower wasn't much different in appearance than 
that one. Only this time, the redheaded gypsy wasn't played by a 
beautiful Irish woman, but by a sexy German man. 

One who was currently grinning at him from a nest of thick, swaying 
ropes. 

"Okay, Esmerelda, you have your church now." 

***

"Glory to God in the highest, praise the angels and the saints and catch them with 
their bedroom doors WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE open!" Schuldich responded, twirling 
around on one of his toes in his best facsimile of a dancer from the days when 
rose windows were not merely curious things to be oohed and ahhed over, but 
mandatory as chalices and crosses for any respectable church.  He leapt then onto 
one of the ropes and swung back and forth on it as the bronze shadow of the bell 
above him followed suit in reverse cadence.

And they were fine bells indeed- high as bird voices or mellow and seductive, 
almost wet and underwater-sounding.  He held the tassel of one such piece and it 
clanged and it clanged and his ears shook with the racket.  And it might have been 
beneath the sea for all that could be seen between the slits of the shutters and the 
great crack in the upper east corner- for outside lay blue and nothing but.  

"Hey Brad! Did you see? They just left, but we don't just have a church, mon 
petit lapin!"

He snapped the thread of vague consternation headed for his mind and paused to 
listen to the tiny fluttering noises between the tones.  A cock of his eyebrow and 
he leapt to the floor.  And it was not the side of any ceiling he landed on.  Layered 
on the floor with many a winter of dust were feathers of grey and tawny brown.

Something very dizzy looking but of the same colors drifted in a spiral down from 
one of the bells, hooting half-heartedly and probably wishing for aspirin.

Schuldich, without much thought, scooped it up between his two hands and 
presented it to Bradley.  It was too disoriented to try and escape.

"We've got owls!"

Indeed, not that the ruckus had dimmed, the church's last congregation had settled 
about the breech in the ceiling which had let them into the holy kingdom, and 
were not turning their heads in all manner of funny ways, and waiting patiently 
for their brother to be returned.

"This is going to be the best fuckin' place we were ever put up! You hear that, 
you feathered bastards! I said curse words in a church! Nyah nyah nyah! But 
thanks, Bradley."

Having so broken his usual demeanor, he finished off his faux pas by leaning in 
and snogging his lover.

The owl he was still holding took this opportunity to, in it's limitless fright, 
disgrace itself upon Crawford's left shoe.

***

Crawford jerked back a little--not because he didn't want Schuldich's 
kiss, of course, but because his left shoe had been redesigned 
without his permission. He reluctantly looked down at said loafer, 
then at the flapping, squirming owl in his lover's hand. 

Then he let out a resigned sigh. 

/Aubrey, would you please release that creature?/

Their lips met again, and then Schuldich threw the tiny, bewildered 
bird into the air, and it wasted no time in putting distance between 
itself and them. Schuldich let out another crow of delight. 
Crawford pulled off the clean shoe and toed off the other; left both 
of them on the cobwebby floor. 

"Come on. Let's go back into the chapel. I have a few ideas about 
how we can fix up the place so our furniture will fit." 

/And then, I think I'd like to find out how well you might fit on the 
altar./

He hooked a hand into the waistband of Schuldich's jeans and pulled 
him forward, walking backwards until he reached the stairs, when he 
released him with a sly stroke of his crotch. 

Once back in the chapel proper, Crawford draped himself over the 
smaller lectern, waving a hand towards the sea of empty pews that lay 
stretched out before them. 

"I was thinking that we could have the center most pews removed. 
Just enough so that our living room furniture will fit. The rest we 
could leave as they are." 

/And I was thinking about selling some of it. We don't need that 
much space--just the two sofas and the coffee table, the desk and chair and Savil's 
chair. And the piano, the liquor cabinet, a lamp or two. 
The rug might fit nicely. Everything else can go though, unless you 
want to keep it. I don't care./

He pushed away from the lectern, and hooked an arm around Schuldich's 
waist. "What do you think? Or do you have another idea?"

***

Schuldich scratched his chin, trying to do some form of a mocking imitation of 
one of Bradley's former English teachers.  He spun from his arms then, batting 
away the hands that fluttered after him.  Ignoring the elitist little huff, he paced 
about the alter space, humming thoughtfully to himself some wacky and out of 
tune composition of his present state of mind, making himself appear deep in 
thought, to the casual observer.

Then he jumped up on the first, bare table and stretched out upon it, performing 
the feline trick of taking up more space than the volume of his form seemed 
physically capable of.  

"I'd say I fit pretty well, but it's kinda hard on my back.  Why don't we get some 
silver velvet for over it? In fact? Screw that chintzy purple stuff in the aisles, we'll 
do this place up just like the room... with a few dozen pews of course."

::In other words, I think that's all be fine by me.::

His lover bent over him, as if to ask with faintly glaring eyes alone- "Why the hell 
are you being so agreeable?"

He responded to this with delusional and empty eyes, not to mention a flock of 
smarting mental kisses.  

/You know, I was REALLY disgusted when you called me sentimental this 
morning and all.../

/But I'd say I sure didn't go out of my way to change your mind./

::I liked the old room.::

::Mostly because you wouldn't let me decorate it after the bit with the chair... 
which is half mine... heh, I'm frankly amazed you felt possessed to ask me.  The 
Holy Spirit of Generosity and Crap get to you? If it did, we're having an 
exorcism.::

With a Lewis Carrol smile then.  "As if I would let my boyfriend get canonized! 
Some things are even below ME, after all."

Bradley's expression, however, failed to change, even in the slightest, and his 
shields were semi-cocked once more, probably from the negotiations.  The 
telepaths present hales had probably gone nowhere, but, ah well, later was a nice 
time for a lit of things.  

"Asking for a Jacuzzi hot tub is not, however."  

***

"A hot tub?! Aubrey, that's so...Hollywood." Crawford pursed his 
lips in contempt, and adamantly shook his head. "No, I don't think 
so."

And added in thought, lowering his shields at last, /I gave in on the 
Marlow Family Recliner. I even let you mix it with the furniture I 
picked out. I don't want a hot tub./

Schuldich gave him a slow, seductive grin. The image of his naked 
self climbing into the desired Jacuzzi popped into Crawford's mind. 

/Don't you even start with me./ 

He started to move away, but the redhead caught him by the arm and 
pulled him back. Raised up just long enough to give him a smacking 
kiss on the lips, and another image of them performing a risqu‚ act 
in the hot tub. 

/Aubrey.../

/Whether or not I saw all this happening earlier isn't the point./

/No, it isn't./

Another sultry kiss, and a bright flash of roseate desire flickering 
through his mind. Crawford sagged against the altar, only remotely 
aware of Schuldich's arms snaking around him. A few seconds--
minutes? A hour?--later, the next thing he knew the German was 
sitting across from him on the glossy wooden altar, and he was 
straddling his hips. Their clothes were in disarray. His mouth was 
painfully dry, and he was breathless. Schuldich was grinning at him 
like he'd just tricked Crawford into selling his soul. 

In a way, he had. 

"All right. You want a Jacuzzi, you got one." 

Crawford twined his fingers through Schuldich's hair, and gave him a 
bruising kiss. Then he climbed down, adjusted his clothing and 
raking his fingers through his rumpled, black locks. 

/Crazy devil./

***

"I heard that," Schuldich cackled as he got to his feet... without first dismounting 
the alter.  He stood atop it, stretching this way and that, flicking the cum from the 
front of his jeans.  Well... at first.  He decided he would rather if it ended up in 
his mouth.  Which it did, and he smacked his lips so loudly they echoed in the 
sanctuary.  

Which Brad had left, probably planning to go inspect the rest of their new home.

The telepath he'd left behind and standing at the gate of his now tightly slammed 
shields sat down at last and nursed upon his salty fingers.

/Score two for me! A house and a hot tub in one day.  I'd say that's a record./

/I'd say that's even more of a record than those twenty guys in that one night in 
England./

/Or the time I followed him to Takatori's party in drag./

His fingers were without traces of white by now, but in the stillness he still sucked 
on them, as if trying to detect the cool flavor of his own lips.

/Marlow Family Recliner, eh?/

/So it's our chair and no one else's trouble then./

/It's just a chair./

/I'm doing it again./

"Well, I'm going to put it..." He crossed then from the space of the alter and 
walked back to the thirteenth pew from the feet of the preacher.  "Right here."

For the time being, he sat on the floor, and tried to make himself used to the way 
the light would fall... or pick out the angle to make it fall how he liked.

But that bored him all too quickly.

He untucked his shirt to cover his faintly damp crotch and headed back up the 
stairs to the bell tower.  Inside, Brad's shoes remained, the clean atop the dirty as 
if the latter was still shamed, even though long discarded.  They threw taller 
shadows on the floor than they should have.  It was getting windy outside and the 
littlest bit cloudy.

As a consequence, the owls had gathered once more about the rafters and the 
bells, and all of them stirred when he came in, as if he was the wind.

Standing beneath the largest of the chimes, he saw once more the pendulum of it 
occupied by a dozing, tiny specimen.

So he pulled off his belt- a chain of silver links, one of which he broke.  And then 
he rang the bells again, hoping they would be taken as some annunciation of his 
latest fuck.

Surely enough, the fool owl drifted down in circles once again.

So he caught it, and pressed the split link of his belt around it's leg.

It stood glaring up at him with wide and servile eyes, as he took up the tail of it's 
chain, as if it knew it would be his now.  Forever and ever.

***

Savil had gone for a little walk. It was not merely enough for her 
to know that in every person lay a collection of glass actions- a 
bower of colored marbles that moved each other. That every person 
who roamed the earth had customs of their own amid their manners- a 
hatred of a certain kind of smile, a way of walking down a street 
when the sun is at just the right angle.

It was never enough, but she had to have some of her own.

And one of them happened to be her way of moving in. For every place 
she had ever abided, there had been the path she found herself around 
its borders, the tracing of every nook, every corner, with her two 
small feet. Just to make sure such places might indeed be tread 
upon, felt, known, filled with lace and chains of gold. 

Or in her case, a little golden orb- a present from Bradley who 
seldom admitted to every having bought anyone presents, let alone 
actually did. It had been presented to her shortly after she and her 
brother had been forcibly removed from the Plaza hotel in New York, 
where in her chambers had hung an expensive print of a William Robert 
Symonds illustration for "The Frog Prince". One with real 
brushstrokes added to the hazy, printed face of the princess, and real gilt in the 
halo of her toy. The original hadn't even had that. 

But now she had a golden orb, and a church to live in, on whose 
floors she was presently rolling the ball about. Now and again, it 
would catch in a groove between the boards, or a line of shadow which 
only appeared to be a board. It seemed hastily built, where she 
stood now. The bridal chambers, where al the maids would have 
dressed on earth- where all the boys had never bothered to go here on 
Terra she guessed, as it was much dustier there than the other rooms 
she had tried. So many wasted spaces. Already, she was wondering 
over what she might do with one if offered. Her brother would want 
one for his hot tub, and another he might hide his desk in, like 
Cupid would hide his face from Psyche. The sheer oddness of her own 
comparison had made her leave a note in the guest chambers no 
Cardinal had ever dared set foot in, for there, at the top of the 
steps, had waited one small room between two bedless bedrooms; one 
that could be reached only from the landing, was only wide enough for 
perhaps a small couch and the desk of his. Surely not a bedroom in 
its own right. But it had a glass doorknob, and a window with a rim of iridescent 
grape leaves.

She would have liked to sit there and draw herself. But then again, 
where would the candles go? Maybe there would be a candelabra about? 

She was still looking for one in the bridal chambers, but had come 
rather upon a room which had clearly been abandoned in a hurry, for 
about it, and the Edwardian iron twists of the furniture, was left a 
veil of the very lightest gossamer, still ticked with dead flower 
petals.

Roses.

She tried to draw it up to shake them, but she could not find 
where the train of it all started, and where it ended. She felt 
like a spider there.

In a stranger's web.

And she thought she felt a hand brush her cheek, but no one was there 
when she lowered her shields for a peek.

Footsteps, light as snow, there in the otherwise summer of the 
deserted room.

And then the veil sailed up around her of its own accord, whirled 
about the whirlpool of her form- the only splash of color left in 
that room, and finally settled atop her, not as a veil, but a curtain 
which blurred her whole body.

"Oh Nagi-chan! Now I'm so lost!"

And she laughed.

***

And Nagi smiled, and extended one hand in the direction of her 
shrouded form. At once the veil spiraled away and up, only to drift 
back down to the floor and twist itself into a roughly shaped human 
figure. It bowed to her as men once did to ladies and to each other, 
with flourishes and preening. Then Nagi lowered his hand, and it 
became a crumbling veil once more. 

"And now, you are not." 

Savil turned away from the fragile heap, and to him, and Nagi 
executed a similar bow. "I was wondering where you had gone. I was 
going to ask you what you thought of the rooms downstairs, but I 
suppose you like this room better. It does have more...personality," 
he added, looking about their surroundings. 

"So will this be...our new room, Savil-chan?"

***

"If you like it very much, Nagi-chan," Saffie admitted, slow-skipping 
up towards the ward of her brother's lover... ward of her brother's 
lover. Was there a German word for that? A Japanese? Did any 
language spoken know such a term ? Why, no! The wonder that for once she had 
no idea of such an easy thing must have show on her face, for he regarded her 
then, almost shyly, as if fearing perhaps his decorum 
had faltered in some way.

There was a thought in the tongue of her mind, if it could be called 
a tongue. And the word happened to be Nagi. And it had too many 
conflicting connotations to be well defined. 

But she bowed too, like a geisha, and she said, "I don't taste that 
you mind. I'm glad, Nagi-chan."

The golden orb still wound towards them in a slightly uneven tract of 
the floor. He did not pull it and he wind had no such strength. She 
rolled it with the toe of her slipper into the space that was his.

::You can play with it if you want.::

"You make me happy, Nagi-chan. So very happy, even when you don't 
agree with me. So you don't have to, but thank you."

***

The ball soared up from the floor, thrown by unseen hands to hang in 
midair like a distant star. It tilted this way, then that, and began 
to spin on its axis. A flicker of blue eyes and it began to orbit 
around Savil. 

"I make you happy?" he asked softly. "I'm...glad that I do."

The gleaming orb slowed its trajectory, coming to rest just above 
Savil's head. 

"I want you to be happy. I hope you always will be."

/And I know you know how I feel. Some things just need to be spoken 
aloud./ 

The heavy ball spiraled downwards like a fallen leaf and hovered 
beside her right hand, waiting for her to reclaim it. 

"A room's just a room to me, anyway." 

/At least now, I won't have to sleep alone. It's quite boring 
sometimes, being alone./

***

Saffie shuddered a moment before taking up her little orb almost in the same way 
one might pick a lemon for some very fresh lemonade.  She even squeezed it, 
though the golden surface did everything for her except give in.  A bit of a scowl 
for she saw upon it's surface a single, shiny line.  A scratch? She rubbed at it with 
the corner of her dress, not really seeing when it disappeared, for rather she had 
chosen to speak with her eyes on Nagi.

"I hate being by myself.  At least, I think I do.  I can't ever really remember 
BEING alone, truly alone.  I remember it the way other people do, and from that, 
I don't think I EVER want to try it myself.  It must be very, very, very quiet."

She got a small nod then.

"So, if you don't like being alone, and I don't like being alone, that works pretty 
well."

/I must thank Bradley again for being so staunch about popping off to Japan to get 
you./

Still holding one corner of her dress, "Would you like to come with me to-
morrow, Nagi-chan? And see where I used to never be alone? I want to get some 
communion wafers for our first supper here, and since no one takes communion 
on Terra, I kinda have to go back to Antiterra to get them."  A long smile then.  
"I'll pay for lunch."

***  

A hint of a smile, and Nagi bowed to her. "Yes, I would like to 
accompany you to Anti-Terra tomorrow, and I would like to see the 
place where you were never alone. And in return for lunch, perhaps 
you will allow me to treat you to dinner some night. Just the two of 
us."

She beamed at him, dropping a curtsey with a giggle. Nagi reached 
out to pet her bobbing curls, then thought better of it and waved his 
hand at the door instead. It shut with a faint, metallic whine. 
Nagi tensed, half-expecting someone to come to the door and walk in, 
but nothing happened. If anything, it was even more quiet than it 
had been before. 

"I know you'll probably tell Schuldich everything I do, or say to 
you, and I don't care. I just don't want him to see or hear me, if I 
can help it."

He took her hands in his own, and tenderly kissed her on the lips.

***

Saffie sighed contentedly, unlacing her fingertips and curling them 
over his wrists, though he tried to coax her back between his hands, 
and when she would not go, murmured in disapproval, or what might 
have sounded like disapproval to another.

But not to her who strung a chain of kisses over his cheek and his 
neck, until her lashes caressed him only, and when she blinked, she 
knew he could feel it all through him.

"And that is more than most would say, Nagi-chan. That you don't 
mind knowing the two of us alone, and yet together, and the same. 
For you are right, and yet you aren't bitter... that he shows me how 
you are in bed, or that I remind him what it's like to be kissed and 
only kissed. But isn't it strange...?" She knew it was, but asked 
anyway. "To be with a brother and sister both? And scarcely believe 
when you hold one that the other has anything to do with them?"

Her fingers she freed then, drawing away at first, just to take in 
his appearance, as he was then, always seemed to look when she spoke 
to him of such things.

"Because I won't be quiet to him just for you."

And then as if asked between then, they fell into one another's arms.

"But I can pretend he never existed for you. And I will. As long as 
you want."

So she strung him a wreath of clover honey and morning dew- the 
fluxing sweetness of newborn emotion, first to have come and have 
spoken to one, left them dreaming, though because she was Saffie and 
she might read minds, it was more then one- whole eternities of 
blissful over-awareness, shifting from person to person. She and 
Nagi hid there.

***   

It was the blandest of kitchens: all sterile white, and decked out 
with rather old-fashioned appliances--those being only what the 
church's ever-dwindling number of parishoners could afford. Only 
one window, and that being over the sink--a portal which faced out on 
an inspiring stretch of green hills. The former housekeeper, one 
known only as Miranda, had mourned that there weren't more. 

But then, there hadn't been any money for such renovations, and the 
priests hadn't been all that concerned with keeping the woman who cooked for 
them happy. They hadn't been concerned with her at all, in fact, and she in turn 
wasn't sorry to see them go when they did, either 
called away by papal orders, or by divine summons. The only thing 
that bothered her was that she hadn't been given the same chance. 
For five years, she had dwelt in those lonely halls, waiting for 
something, anything, to happen. 

For you see, Mme. Miranda had been dead for those five years, and for 
three of those five, she had slept there in her kitchen, but not 
quite there, bored out of her insubstantial skull.

Until today.

The initial ringing of the bells she'd taken little notice of; the 
children of Valdemar had been known to sneak in on certain nights and 
take to playing in the tower. The second round of peals, thought, 
that caught her attention. 

But it was the realization that the rectory was full of people which 
made her venture forth. 

The wraith sensed a presence on the top floor: A contented soul, 
surely, strangely warm--but his thoughts were closed to her. On the 
second floor, she found two children, both extremely open to her: 
Bewilderment, curiosity, and...affection. The latter of which being 
a feeling which was clearly a new notion to both of them, as it was 
felt for each other. 

And then, something more, the ghost noticed--something about the 
girl. A power, which struck her as far more interesting as that she 
detected from the boy. 

Such a power signature she detected in the presence even farther 
ahead, one much, much stronger. 

The ghost left the pair of budding sweethearts with only the merest 
of motherly caresses to their tender cheeks, and drifted down in the 
direction of that throbbing pulse of energy. Down and down to the 
roaring clang of the bells. 

And found a wildly cackling man with the brightest red hair she'd 
ever seen. Eyes that shone as clear like a tree-lined lake, and held 
as many secrets. The ropes were twined around his sinewy bare arms, 
pooled onto the floor around his feet like writhing snakes; a tiny 
owl did its best to flutter clear of them, of him, but never could 
get very far due to its makeshift restraint. 

She sensed a bond between him and the girl, him and the boy; another, 
one more oddly stilted between him and the presence on the top 
floor. And even better--power. He was the source of it. He had an 
ability, a very special one. 

One with which she could use to communicate with him. With the little 
girl too, perhaps. 

And so, silent and invisible, she approached. The owl twitched, and 
flapped and hooted in warning, but the stranger took no notice. If 
Schuldich was aware of her at all, he didn't show it. 

Not that she really cared one way or the other. 

::If you are quite finished making all that racket, I would 
appreciate it if you'd tell me just who the hell you are and what are 
you doing in my house?::

***

Schuldich sighed and swished at his hair where it had crossed over 
his shoulder and decided to dangle over his chest.

::Our house now! You can go check with Brad. We paid for the 
place. And if we just paid for the place, the logical assumption 
would be then that we're the new owners. So if you...::

His thoughts then collapsed into such entropy as not even he could 
have made sense of, sent on their merry way to another mind and there 
be read with any clarity to speak of. For Schuldich here had spun 
around in his little saccharine staccato way and found behind him in 
the golden, growing gloom of the bell tower...

No one.

Even the other owls had fled into their darkened morning, leaving the 
last of the sunbeams to breach the barren air like play swords in a 
magic show. As for the one he had caught, he hoisted him into his 
palm and stood for some time, tapping his foot and most scrutinizing the downy 
visage of his captured bird. Who, despite somehow managing to convey a rather 
convincing sense of earnest befuddlement, did not appear especially sentient. If 
anything, the telepath decided he looked rather dumb for an owl. Dumb and cute. 
A kept boy of owldom.

"Nah," he decided at last and let his feathered prisoner go 
fluttering back to the floor, or rather, clanking. 

::And I can always tell a woman's thoughts, that little touch of sour 
vanilla. You're kinda old too, I'd say.::

"Come out come out wherever you are!" he sing-songed, swishing this 
way and that as he padded over the decades of spider fluff and bird 
webs which graced his present ambiance.

"You must know I'm a telepath or you wouldn't have tried that just 
now. No point in hiding! I can find you with or without my eyes! 
Just watch me!"

Saying so, he closed them, not that they should have done him the 
slightest touch of good at present, for he had turned off his 
ordinary sight and gone to do a stumbling waltz over the threads of 
other's souls which were always trickling into his own. His pants, 
without their belt sagged low over his hips and his owl sagged behind 
him like a dog disallowed the chance to sniff its favorite tree. He 
got tied up in it's leash and still it hopped about after him.

For some time.

Because even if he wasn't getting a clear immaterial remark, he 
wasn't about to admit that too a total stranger.

Let alone one he could have SWORN was feeling him from every 
direction at once.

***

And she was. Still invisible, still silent, just a
pool of warm air. She skirted the edges of his
reach, knowing he could sense her, and laughing to
herself over his consternation. 

::Oh, so just because that dark, handsome sugar daddy
of yours bought you what you wanted, you think this is
yours, hm. All yours. Never mind that I've lived
here longer than you've been alive, you saucy brat!::

Here, she swatted him hard on the rear. Jerked his
sagging trousers up over his hips. 

::And I'll have you know that I'm not old! There was
more gold than grey in my hair when I died, boy.:: 

She drifted back, and up to the first ledge, and
watched him stalk around the stone floor for another
few seconds, before he stopped abruptly in his tracks
and lowered his arms to his sides, no longer needing
them to ward off any sudden encounters with a wall or
a post. Those vivid green eyes turned straight to
her, where she knew an average human would only see
air. Nothing. 

He grinned at her like Sylvester always did after
conjuring up another plan. 

She laughed despite herself, aloud, disembodied and
echoing and melodic. Then, just to annoy him, she
shivered down to the floor, and untangled the tiny owl
from its chain. Scooped it up and threw it into the
air. It spun a circle above Schuldich's head...And
then promptly glided down to his shoulder, and nibbled
at a bit of his hair. 

The wraith leaned close to Schuldich's free ear and
sighed. 

::It's the bells, you know. The reverberations addle
their miniscule brains.: 


(ooc: There's an old Southern superstition that says
a nasty ghost is cold, but a friendly ghost is warm. 
:) Oh, and she is somewhat old--was in her early sixties
when she expired--but is much too vain to admit it.)

***

"So da na!" Schuldich responded in such an abject deadpan, he 
supposed even bushmen would have understood what he had mumbled. "But 
you wouldn't have that problem, being incorporeal and all." 

He sighed then, looking as disinterested as he could.

Though the fact, and he got more than a sneaking suspicion, it was a 
fact she knew all too well, was that he was quite intrigued, and 
growing more so by the moment for the simple reason intrigued was the 
very last thing he wished to be. 

/Bah, imagine, being entertained by a puff of ecto vapors! Soap 
bubbles are a close second, but otherwise... maybe if I blew some 
condoms up and made balloon animals outta `em. That would be a 
little dumber./

Nonetheless, he took his owl, and patted its head with one hand, 
trying to cajole it away from eating up all of his hair, as he hadn't 
ever bothered to read up on the effects of henna on owl stomachs, 
and, as THAT was truly a subject he took no interest in. His free fingers he traced 
over the steamy flicker before him. Even the individual threads of hair which had 
wriggled free of her bun he found he could make out- curling stripes of warmth in 
the still air. 

"So this was blond. Heh."

But he found he didn't care too look on her for very much longer than 
he had already. Not that she was unseemly, or ghoulish; certainly 
not that she was imposing.

She was simply old. And blond. Just as one day he would be old and 
blond. And he had already thought on that too much for one day. 

"You know, I heard a bunch of telepaths talking about having tea with 
spooks. Back, before you were even dead, and I told them all they 
were fuckin' psycho. I'd go back and apologize, but being a saucy 
brat and all... ha! I have an image to maintain." 

As for his owl, it made some effort to take wing just then, but he 
quelled its wishes with a little hiss and a sharp pinch to the wing, 
rather it treated itself to another sample of cheveux d'Aubrey. 

And he did know her name.

He knew the names of everyone he'd ever met.

"Well then, Mad Mme. Miri, I do think this place is mine, and as a 
brat, I reserve the right to treat it as such for any neighborly 
disputes, parties or orgies which might have something to do with the 
rectory or the bedrooms. You should be glad! At least you'll have 
something to watch."

::Brad's good for more than just cash.:: In perfect agreement, his trousers once 
more felt what gravity could do to them.

::And have that oh-so-nasty exhibitionist streak.::

He paused, and reached his hands down into his waistband as hr 
persuaded his pants to dip just a bit lower.

::In other words, trying to piss us off by hanging around ain't gonna 
work.::

But he smiled at her again, just the way he always smiled at women 
who tried to baby him.

***

One misty hand rose, and one vaporous finger jabbed him in the 
shoulder--or rather, mimicked the act of such. 

::Don't you give me that condescending simper, boy! That may work on 
that high roller of yours, but it won't work on me.::

Miranda grabbed his waistband and jerked it up hard around his hips again, 
making him yelp a little. She only laughed. 

::I suppose near or total exposure of your body works on him too. 
Ha! Men are so easily seduced. I bet you have him eating out of the 
palm of your hand, don't you...Aubrey?::

She disappeared in a blink, only to rematerialize behind him and tap 
him on the shoulder. 

::You don't like to be called that, not by anyone. Not even that 
earth-bound fairy princess calls you that. But you let *him* do it. 
That's very telling, yes--that and how you keep knocking at that 
barrier he's put up. What is he? Telepathic like you?:: She cocked 
her head towards the corner bedroom, as if listening for some distant 
noise. Then she smiled. 

::No, he isn't like you. He's different, like the boy. I won't be 
able to communicate with him, so I'll have to learn by observing--by 
watching all of you, and everything you do.:: Miranda gave him an 
oily, shivering smile. ::And I do mean *everything.* Oh! But is 
this ever going to be fun!::

Her hands came together in rapid, silent applause; fell to her sides 
just as quickly. Miranda glanced off in the direction of the 
rectory, then jerked her head towards it with a wag of her brows. 

::He's coming. He was in one of the uppermost rooms, and now he's 
heading for the chapel. Why don't you go greet him and give an old 
spectre a thrill?::

***

In the middle of an octagonal room with picture windows making up 
three of the walls, Crawford spun as if in a dream. Judging. The 
walls were dingy with age, the brown stone floor long grey with dust, 
but otherwise, it was just his sort of thing. It was the abundance 
of light, and the view of open blueness beyond the grimy panes which 
had convinced him in the end, Crawford being the sort who needed such 
an environment as much as a plant did.

But then, he'd never really liked the dark. 

All that he'd left behind him was his sock-footed steps as he made 
his way from the room and down the stairs. Moved past the rooms 
where the children played. He only lingered long enough to catch 
Savil's champagne giggle, Nagi's bemused little smile, and then he 
was gone. Gone, gone, gone to reunite with his redhead, even though 
he already knew where he was. 

He lowered his shields as he crossed the threshold between the 
private and public rooms, past the baptismal font with its wooden ivy 
vines trailing over the pedestal's base. Crawford passed the altar 
and took a seat in the largest of the two throne-like chairs that 
stood behind it. A cloud of dust puffed and swirled around him, and 
he fought the urge to sneeze--a battle he quickly lost. 

/Ah, damn my allergies./

He rubbed at his itching nose, fiercely blinked away the protective 
wash over his eyes, and mentally beckoned to his lover.

***

Upon hearing that sneeze, Schuldich crossed his arms over his chest 
and scowled at Miranda. "Ordering me around! Isn't THAT cute. Why, 
it's so fucking adorable, I think I might puke right here!"

Silence. The wind had a long gasp of waiting as it flew over the 
chinks the owls had vacated. 

No change, however, came over Miranda. As he at least found his own 
sardonism amusing, Schuldich fumbled his half-bare belly and laughed 
allowed, tipping backwards just the slightest bit. His owl fluttered 
to try and maintain his balance. "Lady, I'm SOOOOO kidding. But 
what good's that gonna do me with you. Alright, we'll have fun then, 
since I sure as hell don't want to be the one to scare up the priest 
that gets ridda you."

Saying so, he spun in his heels, giving his hips a cocky little swing 
with each swishy step he took. His owl bobbed accordingly, and his 
pants fell back down.

/A wedgie from a ghost, now that's a new one.../

He then proceeded to galumph down the stairs as if he 
was in a mood. ::But call me Aubrey again and I'll banish your 
ethereal butt so fast whatever's left of your head'll spin.::

Crawford resting in one of the seats aside of the alter, watching the 
purple plasmatic flames of Catherine's frame go out one by one as the 
sun san away from her jewels. It was easy to put form to what lay 
between them- the summoning fingers.

"You thought?" he asserted snidely. But just the same, alighted on 
his lover's thighs, without having taken so much as a glancing 
judgment of the chair, which groaned and squeaked most 
disconcertingly.

"Scared? That's not like you at all." Uttered at first with his arms 
wrapped tight about his shoulders, but they flew away. One hand took 
his own and the other slid down the front of his own jeans, which he 
tweaked and fumbled. "I've been feeling kinda..."

Here he thought "hard" and said "vain" or vice versa. As they came 
simultaneously, it was difficult to say, and made not a touch of 
sense, as he plainly was barely aroused, not to mention streaked with 
cobwebs here and there.

"I figured out why they couldn't sell the place, and I'll be damned! 
But it wasn't even Jasper's fault!

The owl looked around for Jasper, and found no one by that name. 
Schuldich sighed.

***

Crawford realigned his glasses across the bridge of his nose, swept 
his hair back from his face and wriggled his itchy nose. His hands 
wound up tucked back inside his lover's sagging trousers--down the 
back now and not the front. He gave him a good grope, oblivious to 
the fact that they were being watched. Miranda had been standing 
right next to the bishop's chair during the whole brief encounter. 
She flashed Schuldich a grin. 

::I was only expecting some picture show sort of kiss. You know, all 
close embracing and with a bit of tongue.::

::No wonder the randy little snot likes having you around.::

She vanished into nothing, still there, but wholly invisible now and 
off to wander the chapel proper. Of course, Crawford wasn't aware of 
her at all, save for the brief, curious sensation of warmth to his 
left, a feeling he had little chance to contemplate due to 
Schuldich's presence on his lap. 

"Okay, so why couldn't the place be sold? Toads in the bathtub? A 
family of foxes nesting in the oven? What?" 

/And what the hell's gotten into you? I mean, I don't mind being 
felt up out of the blue, but...You seem irritated. What's wrong, 
Aubrey? The owl proving to be as stupid as it looks?/

***

Schuldich winked at Miranda, but no more.  Indeed rather like a rock star, one 
who can only catch the eyes of his female fans, and nothing more, for else of them 
fails to interest him.  

He nibbled his lover's ear though, at least, at first.  The whole thing rather quickly 
turned to his tickling it inside and out with the tip of his tongue.  Not to mention 
that his angle now put Jasper face to face with Brad, a pairing neither of the 
parties involved seemed especially thrilled with.  

"Hooooo," Said Jasper.

"Brad," Schuldich told Jasper.

"HOOOHOOO!" said Jasper.

::Christ, looks like you're right...::

"As for what's wrong with me... why don't you... guess...? It'll be fun."

The underwhelmed mental breeze he caught rather squelched that idea, and it 
made him pout just as much as he could pout.  All while he shifted just the 
slightest bit, rubbing their thighs together and making their chair complain all the 
more.

"Mmm... I'm not mad about Jasper.  Like I said, none of this is his fault.  Nor the 
fault of the frogs in the bathtubs, or the foxes in the oven, who are demanding 
dinner privileges, just so you know.  I thought you might be interested in 
negotiating with them.  I don't speak a word of fox.  Anyway, they couldn't sell 
this place because..."

Brad sneezed very, very loudly.  Jasper, and several thread's of Schuldich's hair 
which had not obtained permission to take off, fled upwards, circled three and a 
half times around the two lovers of Schwartz, and finally settled atop the head of 
the Virgin Mary.  Here, the owl found he could not get good footing and 
repeatedly began to slide off her veil before deciding to sit on her foot instead and 
take an impromptu nap, while still carrying his henna bounty.  

As for Schuldich, he had jerked quite hard at the sound of that sneeze, and upset 
the bishop's chair.  The good news of all this being he was, at least now, atop 
Crawford, and in a very interesting position.

"You know what...?"

::This is why I hate slapstick.::

"Let's go back to the hotel, get a bath, get rid of all this dust and crap and then 
MAYBE I'll feel like telling you again."

*** 

"MAYBE? Fuck that. You'll tell me, or I'll throw you over my lap 
when we get home, yank those suggestively droopy jeans of yours down 
over your gorgeous ass and spank you silly."

/With my hand./

With that, Crawford grabbed Schuldich and rolled over with him, 
pressing him down on the carpet in an equally interesting position. 
He jerked his shirt up and bit one nipple. 

/And then I'll screw you nice and slow./

He grabbed an handful of his hair and yanked on it, forcing his head 
back a little, and bit down on his exposed neck. Raised his head a 
bit more to stare down into his eyes. 

"But I think I'll do all that anyway." 

Crawford dealt him a passionate kiss, his hand now working gently 
through Schuldich's hair. 

"But before I do that," he continued in a whisper, "I think I would 
like to take a shower. With you. And...with Nagi." 

/After all, I owe the boy some quality time, don't you think?/

Crawford got to his feet then, and, after dusting himself off, 
meandered down the altar steps, idly musing over how wonderful music 
might sound echoing off the high, arching ceiling. When he reached 
the middle of the room, he stopped, and slowly turned back towards 
the altar, marveling over the windows all over again; it seemed 
that he found something new, little details he'd missed the first 
time he'd viewed them. As he faced the altar and his redhead again, 
he gave him a cruel smile. 

"Call the children down, won't you Aubrey? I think it's time we 
left."

***

"I just did," Schuldich assured his lover with a saucy, smacking mental kiss.  He 
drew himself up from the floor then, slowly as if at any moment he might be 
asked to freeze in place by some hyperactive Raphaelite painter who designed to 
capture him forever on canvas.  

Then he DIDN'T bother to straighten his shirt, or the fallen chair, but instead 
dashed upstairs, retrieved his belt and once more approached Japser with it.

Jasper who spit out the hair he had been nibbling in favor of some fresh.  Thusly 
was he captured, and this time for good.  The telepath patted his feathered head- 
more a possessive gesture than all else, the sounds of ghostly applause ringing in 
his mind.  When Crawford turned away, he bowed to his spectre and then 
clanking and, swishing his nearly exposed ass, proceeded to the doors.  

His sister and his favorite little catamite short appeared.  He said naught, she 
pattered up to him and to Bradley, speaking for the benefit of the audience that 
was not.

"I have an appointment, Bradley.  I don't think I'll be about for dinner.  But I 
won't be out past midnight."

"Don't worry," ::Not that you ever do when it comes to either of us.:: "I know 
where she'll be."

Brad nodded.  Savil curled some of Nagi's hair behind his ear, but her brother 
kissed her on the lips with his fingers underneath her chin.  Then he kissed Nagi 
too, without so much as a hint of his tongue.  The little herald laughed, and waver 
fled into the watermelon smoke of the sunset.

::She's got nice lips.  It's just cake-mix lipgloss, but now you know how come I 
always... hehe... busse ma soeur dans la bouche.:: Schuldich winked at Nagi.  
::Don't you now?::

(OOC: I'm guessing Saf didn't kiss Nagi because public displays of affection 
aren't much cared for by the Japanese.  And I think I spelled Schu's line right, but 
ergo probably did not.  Trans- I kiss my sister on the lips.) 

***

Ran had more or less collapsed in Ken's arms when it was over, had 
rested his head on his lover's shoulder until aftershocks of his 
orgasm had subsided. Then he had pulled away with a self-conscious, 
lingering look, and moved off to put his clothing to rights. 

The meadow they had chosen for their tryst was indeed part of the 
Villa's grounds, as it turned out, and so it hadn't taken them long 
to return home, no time at all to wind down the hallways to their 
tower. His emotions teetered--first thrilling over the fact that 
he'd at least gotten Ken to touch him; then downed by the fact that 
he hadn't been able to do the same to his lover. 

But now, he knew he could call him his without any sense of irony, 
felt that Ken'd treat him again to another session, and hopefully 
soon, and Ran felt like he was on top of the world. He'd finally 
gotten what he'd so long wished for, just as he had when he thrust 
his katana through Takatori's old, bloated body. 

There wasn't any blood on his hands or clothes this time, though--
just grass and traces of semen, the latter hidden under the hem of 
his untucked shirt. He wanted a bath, but he didn't. He didn't want 
to wash any trace of what they'd done away from his skin. He didn't 
know how anyone else would feel about it, and he didn't care. 

His shoes he tossed into the corner behind the door, having never put 
them on after their play. He wiped at his face with the hem of his 
shirt, his eartails curling back behind his ears with careless 
flutters of his hands. Ran regarded the drawn curtains thoughtfully 
for a moment, then turned to Ken. 

"I need to talk to Fiona about something. Meet you upstairs in a few 
minutes?"

***

Ken didn't mind skipping the pillow talk for once.  Oh, once upon a time he had 
truly excelled at the glib little sub-profession, but not for now.  His lips were 
wetter than they'd ever been, ready to speak, but watching Ran scamper away 
from him and try to re-fasten his jeans with his damp fingers... words had left 
him, and he hadn't minded.  It was enough watching the way he dressed, the way 
he had pondered the shiny white streaks on his belly- only to smooth them out a 
little and put his shirt back on anyway.  Ken had done glistening and irreparable 
harm to the forget-me-nots beside their bed, having somewhat cleaned his hands 
there.  Then, in the interests of fairness, he had also rubbed them on the insides of 
his pockets.  

He giggled to himself thinking.

And his sweetheart gave him a little bit of a look, but not a harsh one.  And they 
walked side-by-side the rest of the way home, instead of one trailing behind the 
other.

Unfortunately, once they had made it back to the realm of the lights- for the 
countryside of Valdemar had sunken to the borders of the land where the two 
moons ruled side by side as sisters and as lovers while they had been gone -he 
realized Ran had not escaped entirely unscathed.  He was just leaning in to pluck 
a few blossom fragments from the nape of his neck, when he spoke and turned.

They nearly bumped into each other.  Instead, nose to nose, they watched each 
other for a moment, and shared a little kiss of surprise.

"Sure thing," he finally told him, holding up one half a flower on the tip of his 
finger.

"Well," Yuriko began, peering in from the main doorway, "it would be a sure 
thing, except Fiona's in the middle of making us all dinner.  Should be ready in 
about ten minutes if you two are interested."

Ken started, "Whoa! Wait a second! Fiona can cook?"

"Seems so.  Smells like some kinda game and oranges no less.  Or things 
involving those two."

"Sugoi!"

"I bet you two are hungry."

"Sure are." /And I do not like the way you asked us that.../

"Great! I'll see you in a little bit then.  Prim's there too, but, you know, Carly's 
out.  Funeral gossip is her favorite kind."

Saying so, she left.

*** 

The curtains swished shut behind her, and borne upon the resulting 
puff of air was the smell of meat roasting, of herbs and fruit. At 
once Ran realized just how hungry he was, something he hadn't 
admitted, or even thought about after their encounter. His stomach 
growled then, and audibly. He rubbed himself there, as if that alone 
would quiet it down. 

"Fiona-chan never struck me as one who would know how to cook." Ran 
shot Ken a cool look, and a shrug, and started up the stairs. When 
he passed the bathroom, the sound of his mother's voice floated into 
his memory as he remembered one of the many occasions where she urged 
him upstairs to clean up, change clothes for dinner. He almost 
diverted his course then, almost went into the bathroom and washed away 
the traces. Almost continued on straight to their bedroom to change 
out of his clothes. 

It was all he could do to resist either urge. 

The chandelier in the living room had been dimmed a little, and the 
table had been set with a particularly fine set of china, snow white 
and rimmed with a thick emerald band; a bottle of some unknown 
vintage was chilling in a bucket alongside the table. Prim was 
setting a match to the last candle of the candelabra that stood on 
the sideboard when they entered. She blew out the match and lay it 
in the small glass ashtray she was carrying. 

"Hello! We were wondering when you two were going to return."

"We didn't know Fiona-chan would be making dinner." 

"Oh, she's a great cook! You are really in for a treat!" Prim 
straightened a fork on its linen bed, and crossed over to the living 
room. The spent matchsticks were tossed into the unlit fireplace, 
the ashtray wound up on the mantle. Prim wound up on the leather 
sofa. She slipped off her heels with a sigh, and scrunched up her 
toes. 

"Ahhhh. I hope you two don't mind, but I've had those things on all 
day, and my feet are aching!"

Ran wrinkled his brow at her, but then shrugged. "I don't care." 

"You don't? Good!" Prim stretched a bit and slumped against the 
back of the sofa. "Because the way I feel now, after I've had dinner 
and some of that wine that Yuriko found in the cellar--did you know 
there was a wine cellar in this place?--I might light a fire, and 
toss them in!" She glanced over at Ken and Ran to judge the effect 
her remarks had on them, and at Ran's taken aback expression, she 
burst out laughing. 

"Oh, I won't Ran! Don't worry!" 

He shot her an exasperated look, one which softened in a slight smile 
when she laughed again, and settled himself on the loveseat, subtly 
signaling to Ken to join him with a look and a slight nod of his head 
towards the empty seat. 

He leaned forward then to take one of the fancy hors d'oeuvres off 
the silver tray on the coffee table--one which turned out to be a 
miniature crab puff. 

Prim sat up to take one of her own. 

"So..." she began, slipping them a sly look, "did the two of you 
have...fun?"

***

Ken nodded emphatically, having decided not to attempt speaking with 
an herb biscuit in his mouth. A whole one which had puffed his 
cheeks up like a hamster's, not to mention gotten dillweed on his 
upper lip. This he licked away, and only just managed to stop 
himself from performing a similar action on his fingers. Finding Ran 
giving him the most sweetly annoyed little look he could possibly 
have imagined, and Prim giggling at him as if she rather looked upon 
a young boy having lapsed in manners at his first formal dinner.

Having then toed off his own shoes then, he plopped down beside his 
lover, whose scowl departed. Presumably because he had skated his 
warm toes over his ankle.

"Yuriko said you two went out to play soccer,"

"MmHm!"

"Well, where on earth did you go? It's all hills nearby except for 
the huge scorch mark on the lawn where we had the fire."

"You and fire..." he shook his head, chuckling. "And we went out to 
that old ring of trees... you know, where they used to have all the 
black-eyed susans."

"Really?" One of her fingers landed on her cheek as she pondered, 
sorting through her memories of Valdemar and what little anyone knew 
of what laid between it and the rest of Terra. "I don't remember 
that!"

"Ah, I hardly remember it myself, maybe I'm not even thinking of the 
right place. Anyway, me an' Ran went out, kicked the ball around for 
a good long time, watched the sunset." His head tipped against his 
lover's shoulder then... "It was great." ...but only for a little while

"Yuriko told me you know that..."

Just then, Fiona, still clad in a much be-floured apron strung 
crooked across her work clothes, came into the room, a platter 
balanced on one arm and a crazily ringing silver bell in the 
other. "Diner est sert, tout le monde," she declared, very little of 
an accent showing. Ken, impressed, raised his eyebrows though he 
lingered a moment at his boyfriend's side. Neither of them seemed to 
want to get up, but Primera did, and they followed her over to the 
table. He pulled Ran's chair out for him. Yuriko, not wanting her 
lover to be left out did the same for her. She and Ken flicked their 
tongues at one another and giggled.

Napkins dove for laps, forks clinked accidentally against glasses. 
Ken let his old friend uncork the wine, which was blush and smelled 
like cotton candy. 

"This is awfully sweet, gosh, what are we having?" She remarked upon 
taking only the most minute slip from her glass, which Primera had 
filled for her and shortly made off with to confirm the assessment of 
the wine. One which she seemed to agree with especially wholeheartedly.

Some pans settled in the kitchen and Ken jumped, which Fiona took 
badly, peering around as if wishing for someone to appear and explain 
what she had cooked for her.

"Mushroom and wild onion risotto, rabbit fillets with herbs Provence 
and blood orange cake for dessert." The tray landed on the edge of 
the table just so she could place her hands on her hips. "Which 
you'd better save room for!"

"Not a problem," Ken told her.

(OOC: Tran- dinner is ready, everyone.)

***

"No, it isn't," Ran murmured in agreement, catching a bit of the 
heat from her fiery gaze before she flounced off to the kitchen 
again. The wine bottle came to him then courtesy of his lover, but 
he waved him off after a half a glass full had spilled forth. The 
tray of food was another matter, as he unabashedly helped himself to 
his fair share before passing it to the now apronless Fiona, who had 
darted back to place a glass pitcher of ice water down on the table. 
Her critical eye fell upon the scant amount of wine in his goblet, 
and, after serving herself, Fiona picked up the pitcher and set it 
purposefully down beside Ran's place without giving him one look or 
word of explanation. 

He gratefully filled the spare glass by his plate to the brim. 

For a man who'd lived mostly on ramen and whatever frozen foods they 
could find on the cheap, for whom dining out usually meant walking 
down to the yakitori stand by the train station, the succulently 
roasted rabbit was a real delicacy. Ran approached it as such. 

It was even better than it looked, and the rice was a tasty 
complement. Ran mentioned as much to her, to which she only 
shrugged. He did the same, prepared to engage his dinner in further 
silence. 

Or he would have been if Ken's hand hadn't briefly strayed to his 
knee. A glance in his direction earned him a discreet wink. A 
flicker of an answering smile and Ran reached for his water, but 
changed his mind in midstream and chose his wine instead. Took the 
barest sip of it. The ladies were right, it was sweet. Fine on its 
own, perhaps, but it struck him as wrong somehow for the dish. But 
then...What did he know about such things? 

And he wasn't about to complain, not tonight.

He took another sip and, since it was a day of firsts, decided to try 
his hand at making small talk. Trouble was, he couldn't think of 
anything really worthwhile to say. 

"Um...How did the sale go? Were you able to get rid of everything?"

***

"It went pretty well for today," Ken admitted with a little bit of a 
shrug. "I just wish it WAS over. We got rid of about... I dunno, what 
would you say, Yuriko?"

"Ten rooms worth, not counting that we did keep tag EVERYTHING..."

"On the first floor," Prim added. The forkfull of risotto headed for 
her pink lips abruptly paused. "Wait... I didn't tag the rose room, 
did either of you or those three who...?"

"They wouldn't go in it." 

"Looks like we do have to draw lots. UGH, on second thought, I'll 
just do it!" Their host shuddered playfully, taking a moment to swish 
his wine about, not that he was a hundred percent sure wine was 
supposed to be swished, but it seemed like the thing to do.

Trying to remember just who he had always seen swishing whatever they 
were drinking however... brought out a shocking blank in his memory.

"We need about a week, and that's just for cleaning the place out. We've only 
called a few distributors, and the nearest was in Watership Down."

Fiona cringed and Yuriko tried to make the fact she dealt her a 
slight thump over the head look like an accident. 

"But we'll get to that once we have a place to PUT the 
flowers." Another swish, another sip, but when he looked up, he found 
Ran's eyes still fixed on him, as if the candles might melt their 
purple mist away, or if he remained rapt by such minor nuances of 
their lives, expecting, wishing so for more...

"We found a little room in one of the corners. It's kinda funny 
shaped, but it's real quiet, and you can see the city lights from 
there. If you want... a quiet place. We'll save it for you."

"We also found where they put all the nudey statues from before the 
place was renovated, the one's with all the chips in funny places!" 
Their secretary giggled.

"Then Mori and I stumbled into the wine cellar and we gave him a bottle to keep 
from suing." Her girlfriend sighed in mock 
exasperation. "Pretty uneventful day if you ask me. We couldn't 
even find the entrance to the third tower and MUUUUU I wanted to see 
what was in there!"

"Yeah, real boring!" And the all laughed, Ken with his nose in his 
goblet. He was blushing already. "But really, that room's all yours 
if you want it, Ran. We could fix it up however you want."

From the half gloom of the stairwell, Savil flashed her fingers at 
Fiona before she headed off, and Fiona waved back from behind the 
water pitcher where no one was wont to see.

***

Ran lit up at the notion of having a private room, the very thing he 
so dearly wanted. "I do want it. And I know just how I want it 
fixed up, too." 

Prim perked up at that, leveling her inquisitive eyes at him over the 
rim of her glass. "Oh? Do tell, please." She giggled a little, and 
glanced sidelong at Yuriko. "Decorating's kind of my hobby." 

"Oh, well, it won't be that kind of room, not a bedroom or anything 
like that. Nothing to interest anyone save for me, I guess. 
But..." Ran took a sip of water before continuing, "if it's all 
right with you, Ken, if no one has any plans for the Rose room, I 
would like to have that too--but not for myself, though."

"And if he says yes, Primera, then I might have a project for you." 

He gave her a fluttering little smile, and turned back to his dinner, 
catching as he did Fiona's gloating smirk. 

"I would like to know just what it is that has amused you so, Fiona-
chan--almost as much as I would like to know just who or what you 
were waving at a moment ago."

***

Ken, about to insist his beloved take control of the peculiar little 
room he and his search party had uncovered that afternoon, also had 
uttered a silent prayer that Ran not take any notice of the most 
recent peculiar behavior of their servant girl.

Ken then remembered he was the son of a fortune teller, smitten with 
western religion only for it's dark sexuality and pagan influence it 
so paradoxically denied, and that not a one of his prayers had ever 
been answered. 

As for Fiona, she went crimson as a plum tomato, but nonetheless, 
asserted her nose squarely in the air.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Now!" Yuriko began, sounding as if she was rather in the process of 
verbally reprimanding her horses. "Don't play smart. It's not nice."

"Be~esides! It was just that girl who came over to help you in the 
kitchen, wasn't it?" Primera inquired, running her finger around the 
rim of her goblet, causing the glass to let out a little squeal.

Fiona's gaze turned to a pure and radiant but still quite virulent 
ice. 

As for Savil, she, looking quite the bored Princess part, skipped 
into the room and made a bow.

Then Fiona lost all her color whatsoever.

***

And Ran went absolutely still, eyes shooting daggers at the little 
girl who stood by the doorway.  Gave the same look to child at his 
side.  

"How DARE you bring her here," he hissed.  

Fiona said nothing; in fact, no one seemed terribly inclined to speak 
or even eat at that moment.  Ran found he had no appetite left.  He 
wasn't going to partake of food that she had made, he didn't care if 
he starved.  Apparently, Fiona didn't care much either--about him, 
about anything but Savil.  

He felt the eyes of the others upon him, and suddenly, he just wanted 
to flee.  It was too much, too damn uncomfortable to stay, and so he 
lay his fork aside, and rose without raising his eyes to anyone.  

And without a word, or a single glance behind him, Ran left the 
dining room, and headed upstairs.  

***

The next thing Fiona felt on her was not the first of Ran, not even the palm of 
Ran. This after his breath had faded from her hair. Rather it was the wisp of 
smoke grazing her nose form where one of the candles had burnt out, and the 
barely distinguishable sensation of Saffie's tiny hand on her forearm. Although it 
didn't strike her as small then.

It didn't strike her as anything beyond the fact she had not been slapped, or that 
she had forgotten to open her eyes.

Though she did at last, and ignored all the other eyes about her for those that 
hovered at her side. Oh, Savil wore the most grimly benevolent guise- it bordered 
on grisly, the stuff of spooks.

::My Ni-chan met a ghost this afternoon, but I'm not one.::

"You told me Schu-ba-... you told me your brother was an assassin."

"He was. Assassins do a lot of other work. It's true."

"But why would he want to take someone to Terra, especially a girl?"

"I know we don't make any sense but..."

Ken fell from his half stupor of disbelief and dove for his wine, taking the rest of 
his glass in one swallow. With a sigh then- "Savil, what are you doing here?"

"I came to help Fiona," To whom she offered a little squeeze which 
effectively sealed her lips.

"OK... are you sure...?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, you're my boys." ::And you especially after I know how 
much you hate that sort of thing. I'm sorry I know but I do.::

/That's... enough for now./ "Alright... Umm... I'd like... and I know this sounds 
odd..." This remark was for the most puzzled Yuriko and Prim, who had seen the 
ribbons in the little girl's hair and not known what to make of the cold comfort 
speech which had been whispered but not heard. He was only glad they were 
friends, and not any other guests inclined rather to gossip. A Terran rejecting a 
herald... that would have been all over before daybreak... "But would you...?"

"Get out at once."

"Please."

No mocking traced her words as she turned leaving Fiona in her shadow alone... 
"Whatever your little heart desires." Then with a little spin on her heels, 
"Oyasumi nasai, minna-san."

And except for the single thread of lightness wick in their candelabra, no sign 
remained of either her, and but for the neglected dinner, no sign remained of Ran.

Ken sighed heavily, tapped his fork along the edge of his plate, and finally took it 
up again, figuring that if it hadn't killed him yet, it wasn't about to. He only 
wished his lover felt the same. About the supper itself. Anything else could wait.

His two guests took this as a sign they were permitted to nibble as well.

Several nibbles later, he had made up his mind.

"Fiona-chan? Please go upstairs and apologize to Ran. When you're done 
eating, I mean." /I won't send a kid to bed without dinner. I'm not that much of a 
bastard./ "And ask him if he'd like some cake."

Fiona nodded and did away with the rest of her rabbit at once. She forgot to take 
off her napkin when she was done though and so it fluttered away behind her. Ken 
watched it fall, only to find he had earned much more attention than it. "It's a long 
story."

"Don't worry about it, Ken." Primera shrugged.

"Yeah, you're supposed to be the one who DOESN'T worry."

"Oh thanks a LOT!"

And they all sniggered and had some more wine.

(OOC: Fiona here confused "demon" as in "monster" with "demon" as in person 
[usually male] who lives on Terra.")

***

Fiona in the mean time took up her battle stance outside of the upstairs bedroom, 
and without first knocking made it will known that... "OK, Ran! I'm standing 
here waiting for my lecture! I know you want to give me one!"

***

The room Ran'd found dark save for the gleam of the twin moons, and 
he'd left it that way. He had paced around the gloomy space until his 
rage had subsided, leaving only dejection--which he indulged from his 
perch on the window seat. Ran was content to brood there until dawn, 
but it seemed Fiona had other ideas. 

/Maybe if I stay quiet, she'll just go away./

Past the door, Fiona knocked most insistently. Called to him again. 

/Why did I think that would work? It never worked at the Koneko./

Ran lingered there still, debating whether or not to open it, hoping 
she'd just get tired and go away. She only knocked again, so with a 
deep sigh, he got to his feet, and when he snatched open the door, 
Fiona jumped, then scowled. Ran regarded her impassively, as if he 
was merely watching an insect crawl up the wall instead of standing 
face to face with an angry girl. 

"I'm not going to give you a lecture. It doesn't do any good, and 
besides--people only lecture the ones they care about. I'm not sure 
that I care about you anymore. You've done nothing but taunt me, 
ridicule me; made it clear how much you hate me. I despise Savil, as 
I once told you--I despise her damned family and yet, you brought her 
over here anyway."

He fell silent, just staring at her, wanting her to feel a little 
uncomfortable.  "So...I guess I know now how you really feel about 
me.  And that's just fine."  

Fiona started to say something, but Ran cut her off with a nod at the 
top step of the stairs.  "I wanted to talk to you after dinner, so 
since you're here, sit down there and tell me about Carly."

***

With a clunky sort of anti-grace, the sort that comes of wind-up toys, Fiona half-
waltzed, half fell over to the steps and sat down with a most unladylike huff 
which made the floorboards complain.  Ran joined her, but far away, for the spiral 
staircase was wide enough for two to walk abreast, two with more meat on their 
bones than they had.  At first she sat straight, staring into space, and not present 
space.  And she smiled bitterly at someone who wasn't there.  But then she 
propped her cheek in one hand and sighed as if she had become the adult at the 
end of her wits.

That Fiona could BE at the end of her wits must surly have puzzled her keeper.   

"Well, not that you care, but there's more to all of this than ya think.  And not just 
about that creepy old woman.  You think you're tired of yelling at me? I'm tired 
of being yelled at! That's WHY I brought Savil over."

A little stamp of her feet and she chewed on her lips to keep from outright 
laughing.  Because it was all just that stupid.  "'cause I can't cook for shit. I was 
too young to learn before I was Ysanne's and kept people don't ever do that kinda 
thing so..."

"She told me you'd be furious but I just HAD to ask her anyway.  I never had a 
family, so I can't feel bad for you.  I just have Savil and her brother.  And I can't 
cook.  That's it."

There was a twine of real laughter came of the stairs and by the fine light of the 
wall scones caught between the moon residue and the echoes of the candles 
downstairs, Fiona did get slapped.

She slapped herself.

"Anyway, about Carly..."

***

"Wait a minute," Ran cut in with a silencing wave of his 
hand, "you..."

He paused, realizing that his next statement would be contradictory 
to his previous remark about his not caring about her. A remark that 
wasn't quite true. He had been angry with her. Still was. But... 

/Not that it matters, does it? That I...had begun to care about 
you./ 

Ran shifted his attention to the diffused, golden light spilling forth 
from the room below. 

"I wouldn't have yelled at you for serving badly cooked food. I was 
surprised that you even bothered with making dinner. You didn't have 
to do it."

Another burst of laughter echoed off the walls. 

"But since you did, I would have rather you had tried to do it 
yourself. Or if you asked Prim-san or Yuriko-san for assistance. Or 
even...uh, me. Anyone but Savil." 

Another pause. Ran canted her a look. "I'm not so stupid or unfair 
as to demand you never see Savil or her brother again. But I 
absolutely forbid you invite either of them, or Crawford, Nagi or 
Farfarello into the Villa. They gave both Ken and I enough trouble 
in Tokyo."

Their conversation lapsed briefly again; the one in the dining room 
did not. Ran suddenly felt like he was on the outside looking in. 
The butt of some private joke. 

The ever-present, critical voice inside his mind assured him that he 
was. 

He unfolded himself from the self-protective knot he'd gathered 
himself in and fell back on the steps, propping himself up on his 
elbows. Sagged in defeat. 

"Now...Tell me about Carly-sama--without swearing or insulting her."

***

"You're in a real good mood t'night! You get laid or what?" Fiona 
jested in her newborn relief, reaching over to tap her guardian a 
little on the shoulder. That mute little gaze of his crumbled to a 
scowl though, even as his cheeks crept a few shades redder. Her hand 
ended up back on her lap and she to leaned back against the lazy 
spiral of the staircase.

"Egh, force of habit. Didn't mean anything by it."

Not that he seemed to believe her.

"Well, I didn't hear this from her, or anyone who knew her real well, 
since there aren't too many people who can say that, but here goes."

The ceiling it seemed became her audience then- the little curve of 
it that rode the whole way up to the roof, through all the floors. 

"Carley's the daughter of two lords. Now I don't remember which two, 
but they were from Valdemar, filthy rich, all that good stuff. Also 
one of the few people who can claim to have been born on Terra. Like 
I said, aren't too many people have kids here. I'm not sure if they 
used a Herald for her mom or not... anyway, she grew up here, back when 
there was actually STUFF here and this was the biggest city on Terra... 
not that it looked much different than it does now, but you get the 
idea. And she's never been on Antiterra- forgot that part."

"Well, the way things went, she knew everyone, went to every party, 
started all the good gossip, and then one of her dad's died, and the 
one that was left... well, didn't really remarry, but he kept a couplea 
different boys. Died too after awhile. Now, she'd had this deal 
with her stepdad, that when her real father checked out, she'd be the 
one to get his things."

"Didn't exactly work out that way. No one managed to turn up any 
proof, and there's also the little side story the boy told her off 
something awful way because she was a girl. Still got it. The kept boy 
got it. Everything. Destroyed and sold a bunch of stuff. After 
all, by law, it was his. Kids got no right to their parent's 
stuff. Of course, halfway through, they found some letter her dad 
had written to her saying the boy'd agreed to give her her share. 
But it was halfway too late. Money was there, but not her fathers'... 
journals I think."

"And everyone felt sorry for her, but she didn't care. They say she 
swore off talking 'cause no one had listened to her before, and 
they'd wasted their chance. Which was true. And they still tried to 
make up for it... so now she knows everyone, goes to every party and 
hears all the gossip. But what's going on in that head of hers, no 
one knows. Or has known for thirty years."

"Now as for how she got to know Ken... that I got know clue about. But 
I'm guessing she was hangin' out here. They had these huge parties 
here back when it was a whorehouse."

***

Ran winced a little at her last remark, thinking of the connotations 
of the word 'whorehouse' and that his boyfriend once had to live 
there as one. Ken who pretended that everything was okay, when it 
definitely wasn't. He wished he knew just how to solve that 
particular problem, but he had no idea where to turn for help. Nor 
would he ask anyone, tell anyone. Let 'em think everything was all 
right between them; it wasn't anyone's business anyway. 

Well, maybe not anyone's. Everyone's save for one. 

"So she still got her fathers' money? Then why did she, an 
aristocrat, end up here, in a...a brothel?" 

/And does Kaze have more to do with her past than I originally 
suspected?/ 

"I wish I could ask her that. I wish I could ask her a lot of 
things...as futile as that would be to do. If she won't talk to 
those she's known for years, I doubt she'll deign to talk to me." 

/She's an enigma through and through. Her and this place./

/What about the third tower that no one can enter? Why is the door 
hidden?/ 

/This puzzle appeals to me greatly.../

Downstairs came the sound of a chair being moved, dishes being 
cleared. He could hear Ken call out after a muffled feminine voice, 
yet more chuckling. Ran supposed it was time for cake and coffee or 
wine. 

"I suppose you're here because one of them sent you after me, hm? 
Because I know you wouldn't have come up here without some prodding. 
Well, you've done what was required of you. Go back and have your 
dessert, Fiona-chan."

***

Fiona scowled, but not in full force. Not now, when she had come to 
one of those rare moments when her unwitting employer was neither 
asking something of her or informing her coldly that he found 
something she had done to be asking too much of him. She turned from 
him a moment.

"Well, you're right. Ke-... the Hidaka-dono told me to apologize, and 
I'm going to apologize then, Da-... darn it!"

With a breath which sounded to have come from someone anticipating an 
earsplitting scream, she steadied herself, and then said in a 
surprisingly flat tone what she had been meant to say, told to say... 
flat being quite the improvement over her traditional rancor. At 
least she hoped so. 

"I'm sorry, Ran. I won't do it again."

Duty fulfilled, she vaulted to her feet, but stood, seemingly testing 
the stairs beneath her with the toe of her sneakers.

Leave she did not.

Rather, Fiona whirled around and addressed him in a much more usual 
manner, her chapped hands fluttering about with her words and 
knotting themselves up for emphasis now and then.

"Well, you CAN ask Carly, it's just that she probably won't answer, 
but you never know with her. You givin' up already? `cause y'know, 
Ysanne didn't even know why she hung out here, Ken doesn't know... you 
got time now! Don't mope! Figure it out. And what's the big idea 
sending me down for dessert? You didn't even finish your dinner! You 
gotta have room for some cake! And it's not poisoned or crap like 
that! It's just good. And maybe it WILL go straight to your thighs, 
but I don't think Hidaka-dono'd mind. At least... not for someone like 
you." 

***

Still quite stunned and marveling over the fact that his irascible 
young servant had just apologized to him, Ran got to his feet as 
well, but made no move to descend. 

"All right. I'll put that question to Carly-sama the first chance I 
can get her alone, even though I know I won't get an answer. But as 
for the cake--no. I don't care if her food isn't poisoned or 
drugged. I don't care if it's good, or if Ken would overlook my 
gaining a bit of weight. I won't eat anything she's made."

He glowered at the floor. "I don't want to have anything to do with 
her at all." 

Fiona didn't move. Stayed there silent and looking...crestfallen? 
Ran couldn't tell--couldn't believe that she'd actually be bothered 
that much with him. Nevertheless, much chastened, he pushed away 
from the wall he'd been leaning against, and hesitantly lay a hand on 
her shoulder. Gave her a little smile when she looked up. 

"Nevermind, Fiona-chan. I'll go back with you and have some 
coffee."

***

Fiona sighed, "Well, ya win some, ya loose some, but that's good 
enough for me! Lucky for you I made some fresh Shire Lemon Cream 
stuff! C'mon."

He rather grudgingly took in her smirk but nonetheless consented to 
being lead back down the steps, and with a minimal amount of sighing 
on his own part. His servants face, however, beamed with victory and 
she looked more ready to go dancing across the next available field 
that all set to sit and have cake.

Speaking of which, they had no sooner re-entered the dining room, 
than their vision was filled with the silky ginger-colored sugar-
leafed vision of desert... not to mention Ken skipping across the room 
with a copper biggin. He gave the a momentarily startled look as if 
he had not expected to see them at all so soon, and then was all 
smiles, though without the haughty little airs of Fiona.

There were no remarks coddling them to kiss and make up, or suggest 
that they had already done so. No references to the little spat at 
all. Ken just pulled Ran's chair out again and Prim re-lit the 
candle that had gone out. 

"Oh! I shoulda brought you a new sugar-cellar for a housewarming 
present!" Yuriko complained to herself, apparently just about as 
unhappy with the chintzy baroque roses as anyone with any taste would 
have been. But she passed it along to Ran before Ken even had a 
chance to pour him any coffee, which he did eventually, and without 
being asked.

No one seemed to be able to decide which one of them ought to cut the 
cake, and so Fiona did.

And when she cut everyone tiny pieces to try, she didn't even offer 
Ran any, figuring there was no point in forcing any on him.

***

Ran eyed the plates as they made their way around the table, but said 
nothing even though the rich amber-rosy cake was quite appetizing in 
appearance. Just sipped his coffee, and snuck glances at Ken. 

Conversation carried on as if there hadn't been any blow up, as if he 
had never stormed away from the table, and he was quite grateful that 
no one made any references about it. Quite grateful that no one 
seemed to take any notice of him at all, save for the occasional 
including glance whilst talking. Such situations he was used to, was 
comfortable with--but then, as in all social matters, it lagged. 

So, at last, he spoke. 

"What's so special about the third tower?"

***

"Well," Yuriko began, nuzzling the lip of her coffee cup, 
evidentially as she savored the crisp smell of the hot liquid. "For 
starters, that we can't get into it."

"We haven't got a clue!" Ken moaned dramatically with a little 
chuckle. "In fact, I'll bettcha anything it's empty except for those 
curtains." A deep shrug as he took a rather large bite of his cake, 
then turned to his beloved with a look which was all mischief and 
gloaming boyhood. "You see, the third tower SHOULD have a door 
between this one and the other one you can get to from the outside 
hall. But it doesn't. It just DOESN'T!"

"And it's not as if we haven't looked for a way into it." This 
asserted by Prim as she pawed a few fleeing flakes of sugar from her 
dress. "That's how we found the wine-cellar."

"What we have got," The Hidaka-dono continued, "Is... I dunno, like a 
half dozen keys with no locks, at least, that we haven't found yet, 
and there could be more, since we didn't exactly get around to trying 
EVERY SINGLE door yet."

"That'll take weeks!" His old friend moaned. "Even if the regular 
rooms are color coded with those little chips of glass. The cabinets 
aren't, the utility rooms aren't... we have no idea what else isn't and 
the damn herald with the keys booked it!"

"Personally," this said to Ran now as his hand slid under the table 
cloth and took his slim fingers. "I think it's gonna be fun trying 
to figure it out."

Fiona moaned and gulped down another mouthful of dessert. "I STILL 
say we should just break the window."

***

"Perhaps if we get that desperate, we will." 

Fiona grinned then, and turned to her cake. Ran shifted his 
attention back to his lover. He suddenly yearned to taste of the 
cake, but only through Ken's kiss. Wanted to pull him into his arms 
and kiss him until he was breathless, he looked so damn cute. 
Instead, he gave his hand a squeeze, and eyed him over the rim of his 
coffee cup. 

"Are there any blueprints around," he asked, addressing the group 
now, "or some sort of document somewhere that mentions a door?" 

"Probably are," replied Prim. "They're probably in a trunk in said 
tower." 

Ran smiled a little at that. "I was going to say...It'll be possible 
to gain access if we can determine what lies beyond the outer wall. 
There might be an opening behind the drywall." 

"Or there might not..."

"Won't know unless we look." 

"And if it's bricked up?"

"Well, then, we'll just give Fiona-chan a hammer and let her go at 
the windows."

***

Yuriko yawned just about as loudly as it was possible for a person to yawn, not to 
mention stretched, her arms and hands riddling the air with pops.  Her right palm 
came down on Prim's knee and everyone saw.  Ken stuck his tongue out at both 
of them since he had thought of it first, petting his lover.  Fiona was too lost in her 
thoughts of mass destruction to wish rather to shrink into her chair.  In fact, she 
looked rather to be dreaming of a sweetheart, or another slice of cake.

"Alright then," the host decided, "We'll have a party game tomorrow before 
dinner.  It'll sure beat the hell outta charades."

"UGH!" Prim began, leaning back in her chair and cocking her legs so they were 
closer to her own beloved's palm.  "I hate charades."

"Of course, you're Lady Jessica's daughter.  That's all she does, right?"

"Right! So this sounds great! Except for... well, what do we win if we find the 
way in? Not to say it's sure we will."

"Well, that can be a surprise too," And then Ken yawned too.  "Neeeeeeeee, 
excuse me, but hours typing in opening bid amounts and even more hours chasing 
Ran all over the lawn have kinda gotten to me.  I'm goin' upstairs."

"That's OK! Carly's about to miss me anyway," Yuriko began, "She should be 
home soon."

"I'll go wait with you," Primera oh-so nonchalantly interrupted.  

"And I'll do the dishes... wait a sec..." Fiona sat blinking at the field of soiled 
porcelain.  Ken nearly patted her head and told her not to worry, he and Ran 
would help, but speaking of Ran, he gave him a harsh little look, and thus her 
punishment was set.  They all had the usual good-evenings, little tickles of each 
other's lace.  They held his lover's hands in backwards greeting but they would 
not touch him too much.

It was adorable in a way, and sad.  That and for the fact their eyes kept meeting.  
Fiona whistled, he told her goodnight in Japanese and she did not understand him 
the first time.

Then the last two lovers started up the steps in silence.  The bathroom had it's 
own little key, which stayed in the lock, and did not look much like the lock, but 
worked nonetheless.  Stuck just the littlest bit.  But the mechanism was set in a 
glass knob, the key of greenish iron, so how it worked... he wasn't sure.

Nor was he truly tired.  

There would be other days to take the thing to bits.  For now he stood watching 
the red streak of his beloved start slowly up the stairs, crimson over midnight in 
the distorted petals of the crystal.  The door squeaked just the littlest bit as he left 
it to swing open without him.

A few steps and he had Ran around his waist, his lips against his ear, there in 
what light lay between the downstairs and the heavens of their bedroom.

"You're not going to let me take a bath all by my lonesome, are you?"

***    

"A bath? I thought you were tired."

Ken nuzzled his ear, making him smile. His hold on Ran's waist 
slackened he when he turned around to face him. Tightened again when 
Ran draped his arms over his shoulders and drew him close. 

"I stand corrected." 

A glance down the darkened stairs and Ran stole a kiss. They broke 
apart then, and crept to the bath like two boys who were out past 
curfew. 

Socks and slippers landed in a heap just inside the door. Ken locked 
it, then went to bath and turned on the side straddling taps. Then 
he straightened up, and the two just gazed at each other in 
adoration. Longing. 

Ran caught the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over. Let the 
garment drop to the floor beside him. Deliberately unfastened his 
jeans, and tugged them free of his hips, letting them pool around his 
ankles. Ran stepped clear of them, then stayed where he was, and let 
Ken get a good, long look at his nude form. 

Slowly, then, did Ran walk over to him. Wrapped his arms around his 
lover's shoulders. Pressed a kiss to his forehead, and rubbed his 
cheek against the silken cushion of Ken's hair. Ken's breath tickled 
the underside of his jaw, made him tingle with anticipation. He felt 
his lover's hands brush his skin just below his ribcage, and Ran 
pulled back a little to look him in the eye only to get kissed, over 
and over. 

His fingers worked at his shirt buttons as his mouth worked Ken's, 
sly caresses of his newly bared chest and stomach as he proceeded--
all the way to the top button of his jeans. Ran undid it, then drew 
away from him and stepped into the enormous tub, and sank into the 
steaming water with a contented sigh. 

Tilted his head back on the rim and regarded him with heavy-lidded 
eyes. 

"You coming?"

***

Ken nodded once, grinning brightly as he did so.  Not to mention that he quite 
leapt into the tub, sloshing water over the edges and his lover quite out of his 
relaxed little posture.  He was kneeling on the far end now, swaying back and for 
with the settling water, almost enjoying the perturbed little glint in Ran's eyes.

But he slid up beside him in the end, and with a little sigh, sank down with his 
head against his chest.  In slow motion, as if they were all the way beneath the 
surface.  And he rubbed him there with his wet hands.  Took a deep breath and 
caught the last drips of his scent before the soap would melt them away.  His eyes 
fell closed, and it was all he knew for a moment.

But it almost reminded him of his own bed sheets from back at the Koneko, 
something about it.

His cheeks grew warm and Ran, feeling it against his bare flesh, murmured in 
confusion.

Ran who smelled just a little bit like him.  

"You heart's REALLY pounding.  It tickles." Which only stirred the clatter 
underneath his bones.  He shifted himself as his lover's arms drew around him- 
fell into them, but was clasped neither too tightly, nor too loosely.  His lover's 
embrace did not have the too-calm sensation he had expected, the anxious quiet.

And he was so glad of it he could not say anything.  

Instead he simply clucked at himself for forgetting to put down the little brass 
key.  He threw it with a clatter onto the floor.

Scooted up against Ran's lap so he was stretched out across him- could feel him 
on his thighs, and his stomach and his cheek.

And his back.

With all his scars.  

But that didn't seem to bother him, and so, Ken deiced he wouldn't worry, even 
when he started fumbling with the shimmery skin, the very tips of his fingers.  It 
made him giggle.  Made him duck under water a moment to kiss the pinkish 
swoop over his beloved's soft, white belly, and then only chuckle more as if it 
was the first time he had ever tried such a thing.

"I got water up my nose," said abashedly as he rubbed at it with one of his wrists.

***

"It generally helps if one tries not to breathe while underwater." 
This uttered with a teasing little half-smile. Long fingers skated 
across the thigh Ken had slung across his lap. They would have 
stayed there, mapping out the planes of such foreign territory if Ken 
had not threatened him with a thorough splashing. Ran scrambled to 
snag the aforementioned hand before he could deal such a punishment, and drew 
it underwater, just below the surface. Held it 
there. 

"Temper, temper," he whispered. "That's the Ken I know." 

A smile, and Ran brought his hand down to his hip, and lay it there; 
thrilled a bit when Ken's fingers lingered there. He loosely draped 
his other arm around Ken's back, fingertips just touching slick, 
scarred skin, and brushed his lips against his lover's with a 
tentative flicker of tongue. 

"The Ken I know...And love..."

***

/Yeah... but where's my sullen little Ran?/

/And do I miss him?/

"Woul, you tickled me!"

Another loud slurp as their bathwater made another emergency relocation when 
he shifted his whole form into his lover's, catching his shoulders and bussing him 
as deeply as he could from the rather unconventional angle he was at. His lips 
followed his own when he tried to draw away, and so, linguas fluttering more than 
if they had sung, they chased each other all over the tub.

/Maybe... a little.  But.../

"That's enough now! We're never gonna get clean if you keep it up."

He gave him a pre-emptive pout.

/I'd miss you now if you got like that./

/So I'm just gonna be happy! I decided that already./

Ken had to lean halfway out of the water to reach the counter.  How cold it 
suddenly felt without that, without Ran so near.  But yet another splash, and he 
held up an oval sponge, and a mint green pump bottle which, of all simple things, 
set a look of distinct familiarity upon the boy he shared his bathtime with.   

"They sell it down at one of the makeup stores.  It's the stuff you liked to wash 
with back in Japan, ne?"

(OOC: Forgive me, I'm thinking of an actual brand of Japanese bath... well, not 
gel, it isn't clear.  But it comes in mint green bottles that resemble hand-soap 
dispensers, is kinda pearly and has one of those eastern smells you just can't 
describe.  Umm... clean.  Like a screened-in porch after a long rain.)

***

Ran, lips pursed in faint disapproval, looked from the water, to the 
bottle, to Ken. 

"Yes, it is, but I thought you just wanted to soak. I mean...I don't 
bathe in tubs. I bathe outside of them. I probably shouldn't have 
gotten in before showering off, but I didn't think I was that dirty."

/And I smelled like you. I didn't want to lose your scent./ 

Much in a quandary, Ran regarded the shower for a few thoughtful 
moments. Regarded Ken. He knew he could lead him to the shower, and 
bathe him there, knew that he really should do that--which, to him, 
was the proper thing. But then, his current situation would be 
deemed by most back on Anti-Terra to be improper. And he was in a 
foreign land, and when in foreign lands, wasn't it better to do 
things as the natives did? 

Aya had always thought so. She had told him that every single time 
he'd balked on doing something, or eating something he was unused to--
no matter if they were in Greece or Hokkaido at the time. 

And didn't it seem to be a bit more fun lounging about in warm, silky 
water with a warm, silky-skinned boy--one who seemed all too ready to 
wash his back if he asked him? 

Ran agreed that it was. 

"Nevermind, Ken," he said, holding out his hands to take the sponge 
and the soap bottle. "To do something a different way just this once 
won't kill me."

***

Ken giggled.  "You sound like me when I first got here! But trust me, I know it's 
silly, and I know it doesn't actually get you all that CLEAN but it's sooooooo 
much fun!" And then, leaning in with an impish glimmer in his eyes, one which 
causes Ran to ease away from him just the littlest bit.  "Naughty too! And even if 
our mom's aren't around to catch us..."

His lover's pale hands started for the soap and the sponge, but he pulled them 
away at the last minute, and shook one of his fingers at him.

"We can still do lots of things they wouldn't approve of!"

/And get all nervous and hyper like a pair of ten year olds running off with mochi 
before dinner./

Although, picturing Ran as such, or at least attempting to, left him inadvertently 
boggling, such as he might have done is he had, oh, say, caught Crawford 
prancing about in  Carman Miranda get-up, gleefully hocking bananas.  

/Ah, but it turns out he's just as gay as the two of us, so nuts to him./

/And nuts to the shower too!/

Thinking so, he squeezed a big, gloopy puddle of soap onto the sponge, before 
tossing the bottle aside for the time being.  Humming to himself, he started to 
work suds all throughout the otherwise innocent puff, which ended up contorted 
in the most fascinating ways- compressed and stretched and rhythmically wrung, 
all in the name of a good lather. Which he got, a good deal of it on his hands, 
which he dipped in the bathwater quickly.

Ran watched the cloudy plumes flee from them and go circling around him with 
the current, giving them a look which seemed all too much like that he gave 
taunting blooms or targets.  Not that his expression lasted too long.

Ken clambered up so he was kneeling on his lover's lap, thigh to thigh.  His lover 
who, with all too docile manners, relented when he tipped his head to lean against 
his arm so he could start smoothing the sponge over one side of his neck, back 
and forth as if he was trying to work the kinks out of his muscles too.  

*** 

Ran lay still while Ken worked at his neck. Well, practically 
still. His hands weren't quite idle, not with his lap being thus 
occupied by a young, desirable male as it was at that moment. Even 
so, Ran was very careful where he put them. The last thing he wanted 
was to spook him, and ruin the mood. 

He began to knead the muscles in his lover's back, intending to offer 
him the same sort of tender ministrations as he was receiving, but 
soon gave up. Not because he didn't want to likewise soothe Ken's 
aches, but because what he was doing to him felt entirely too good. 
Made him realize just how tired he was. Ran had been going full stop 
since rising, and on very little sleep--the way he had lived ever 
since joining Kritiker. 

Once more it hit him how he'd have to start breaking his old habits, 
change his lifestyle. He wondered if Ken had done the same when he 
joined Kritiker and its highly regimented way of life. 

He also wondered if Ken would ever consent to stretch out on his 
stomach on the bed some night and let him give him a massage. Fuck 
the scars! Ken had a damn fine looking back, and he wanted to get 
his hands on it. On him. Wanted to seduce him a little, even if 
nothing came of it. Ran figured Ken could stand to be treated like 
that--like he was special. 

But then, to Ran, he was. 

/Let's see.../ he mused, thinking about the setups in the cheesy 
novels he'd snuck peeks at sometimes when he went to the minute 
market. He'd always thought they were so corny, but...

Maybe they weren't so much so. Maybe they had a real purpose. 

/So to pull something like that off, I'd need...What?/

/...Candles? Wine? Maybe some music...?/

Ran fell to musing over a few pieces which might be suitable for such 
a venture. Lush and full of violins, perhaps. 

Then, however, he was beset by pangs of uncertainty. 

/What if it all seems so ridiculous to him? What if I come off as 
being utterly clueless?/

/He's...experienced. He's probably done things I've never even 
thought about, willing or no. Why would anything I do impress him?/

/...I don't even...turn him on./ 

/I can't believe I'm even thinking about stuff like this.../

He snorted softly at the irony of it, felt his cheeks bloom faintly 
red. Ran eased his eyes open and sought out Ken's, and found himself 
gazing at the sky at twilight. Sailing on the sea at midday. He 
suddenly wanted to write a poem. Ran felt he should speak, but what 
could he possibly say? 

So Ran instead kissed his fingertips, and touched them to Ken's lips, 
and said not a word.

***

Ken had, himself, not known what he ought to tell his lover, but the fingers on his 
lips banished all thoughts of leaving the realm of their caresses to hunt of words.  
Words could wait, or not be at all.  Even if he almost laughed at himself for 
considering such a thing.

He let the sponge wander over Ran's outstretched arm, and then his own fingers 
which had had soaked first.  Some suds he squeezed onto his hand, and with the 
heel of his palm, rubbed them against his beloved's lingering flush, since 
something told him it was not merely the heat of the bathwater which had brought 
it on.  And he didn't know how else to tell him just now, that he didn't have to 
blush.

/I'm not... going anywhere.  Not when I love the feel of having you here like this.  
You believe me.../

The finger tips his kissed at last, and still meeting Ran's gaze, made up his mind 
what he ought to do with one.  With the faintest sigh, he took one in his mouth 
sucked.  Just softly, and with a forlorn little look on his face which made the 
gesture loose any erotic notes it might have had otherwise.

/...don't you?/

But enough of that.  He let him go and rather pulled him from his slouch and into 
his arms so he could wash his back.

***  

Ran bore no complaint from being so forcibly moved, since he was 
transferred to a far more comfortable spot. With delight, he wound 
his arms around Ken's body, and held him close. So close that their 
respective chests brushed together when they drew breath. He could 
feel his heart beat that much faster, could feel his own thudding 
away. 

But he didn't pull back. Only a madman would do that now. 

"Feels good, anata," he murmured, nuzzling his ear. Pressed his face 
against his hair. His hands swooped lazily down his back, once 
daring to caress his rear before hastening back to the middle of his 
back. 

Then he stayed still, perched there in his arms. Suddenly crushed 
him to him in a brief bear hug, overcome as he were by another burst 
of emotion. Eased up on his embrace with a kiss on the side of his 
neck. 

"I was going to surprise you, but...It would probably be better if I 
ask you first, so..."

"What sort of ice cream do you like?"

***

"OOOF!" said Ken, despite being fully aware that "ooof" was not one of Claire's 
myriad of flavors.  At least, it hadn't been when he had last visited that most 
unusual parlor.

Ran at once regarded him thoughtfully, obviously supposing himself to have 
squeezed a little too hard.

Just to show him that wasn't the case, Ken return the tightness of the embrace he 
had been given, albeit briefly.

But when he was finished, he did something he suspected he would get a bit of a 
complaint for.

/But just for a little while.  Probably won't make him too mad.  And if it does... 
we can just have a water battle./

/Might do that another night anyway./

He rocked his lover back and forth then, as if meaning to lull him to sleep.

"Well, I like mint chocolate chip, but only if it's green.  I don't know why people 
leave it white.  White isn't NEARLY as appetizing as green."

This addition to his answer he short reconsidered though.

"Well... mostly."

His lips parted over Ran's shoulder then- tasted soap now and imagined milk 
only.

"And I'm surprised now! I thought you didn't like ice cream!"

***

"I don't like it. I wanted to get you some though. For a treat." 

He nestled his head against Ken's, what little tension remaining in 
his muscles seeping away with every rock. Which he dragged himself 
up out of his stupor to mutter about. 

"Ken~n," he fairly whined, much in the same exasperated way he 
sometimes addressed Aya whenever she became too much of a 
handful, "you're making me sleepy. Or sleepier. And I haven't 
even..."

"...Haven't even had a chance to bathe...you."

***

/I knew it.  Never fails.  Never ever fails./

Although, thinking back, the last protest he'd gotten regarding his love of playing 
cradle with his companion had gotten him a much more insistent reaction which 
also happened to be considerably more than sleepily miffed.

He didn't think about that now, simply eased Ran up to a sitting position and 
watched him scrunch his eyes closed to try and make them behave.  

"Well, you don't have to, you know, you can just lean against me.  I don't mind if 
you fall asleep in the tub.  It's better than some of the places you've dozed off in 
already.  Both of us!"

But that was too long apart for him, and laying the sponge where it could easily 
be claimed by his lover if he did indeed want it, he coyly wrapped his arms 
around his neck.

"But if you're gonna play in the tub with me, won't you at least eat a LIL ice 
cream with me toooooo?"

*** 

Ran blinked drowsily at him, then at the sponge--which
was summarily ignored. Not so the bottle of
rain-scented soap. It tickled him that Ken remembered
he liked it, used it always. Ran never counted on him
noticing things like that. Figured that all Ken saw
him as was a constantly pissed off nuisance and
nothing more. 

That he had noticed warmed his heart considerably. 

He pressed a quick kiss to his wonderfully delectable
mouth and reached for the bottle. Dipped one hand
into the bathwater and pumped a healthy-sized dollop
into the scant cup of water in the well of his palm. 
Set the bottle aside and began to froth the mixture
into greenish-white clouds. 

"I never thought you would be so demanding," he
replied with a teasing little smile. His hands went
to Ken's shoulders, and he began to work his way from
there...

"Ran, play soccer with me."

...down his slickened chest.

"Ran, take a bath with me."

Swooped along his ribs to his back, and lathered it up
as well, lightly kneading his flesh as he worked
upwards. 

"Ran, eat ice cream with me." 

He hooked his hands over Ken's shoulders, and kissed
him deeply. 

"Ran, Ran, Ran..." 

Another smirk, and he began to scoop water up with his
hands and pour it over Ken's body, watching the suds
race away and puddle up on the surface. Didn't stop
until he was satisfied his lover was thoroughly
rinsed. Then he caught him in his arms again, and lay
his forehead to Ken's. 

"I'll have some ice cream with you. I think, after
dinner I'd like to open the windows, and sit on the
window seat to eat it. It'd be all moonlight and
jasmine." 

"And then...maybe you'll come to bed with me and we
can play."

***

If the sky had turned green and the grass gone to blue then, if the 
world had turned to vapors under his feet... yes, those were the two 
ifs indeed, still fit to make him wonder more than Ran's gentle 
teasing. Perhaps there could have been a third, but he knew not of 
it, and decided promptly that he didn't want to. 

"We could go play NOW for a little bit, if you want. If you can't 
wait for ice cream tomorrow, which I gotta say sounds just... just..."

He let his fingers fine themselves in the red floss of his beloved, 
and nestle there, just a little, just enough to bath themselves in 
softness that rival even the water on his body, but not that of the 
second form beside him, and around him, just where it should be.

And he held his lips with his own for awhile.

"Actually, demanding little me was wondering if you'd like to play 
teacher with me, and you weren't too tired to read me some more 
story, `cause I've been wondering about that glass snowdrop 
alllllllll day."

Then they simply drifted near each other for awhile. Watching, and 
wondering, and offering small, telling gestures with their finest 
control. More than enough. A nod from Ran and they rose from the 
tub, hand in hand.

As he started to pat his lover dry then, whisking the towel back and 
forth over his stomach- "Do you want me to put my head in your lap 
while you do? I'd like to~o."

***

Ran wound up his vigorous drying of Ken's body, trying, as he had 
during the whole of their bathtime, not to dwell too much on the 
appealing sight he made. Especially now, without the water cloaking 
him. Such precautions were necessary, else he'd find himself 
creeping off to some private nook after Ken was asleep. 

/Of course, if Ken keeps making such comments as that last one.../

/Who would have thought I'd be having such notions?/ 

/Youji would be shocked./

That made him grin a bit as he swept the towel around his waist, and 
tucked it in at his hip as he had forgotten to bring his robe back 
after his earlier bath. "No, Ken, I don't mind if you put your head 
in my lap. And I'll read to you as much as you like...Or at least 
until I fall asleep." 

He slid his feet back into his slippers, and gathered up his clothes, 
and dropped them into...the hamper. Which he didn't remember being 
there before. 

/Hm. I guess the ladies found more than just the wine cellar this 
afternoon./ 

He turned around, and found Ken standing behind him, similarly clad 
in a towel and grinning. Without a word, Ran took his hand and led 
him out of the bathroom and up the stairs to their room. 

"I was kind of hoping that you'd let me read to you some more," Ran 
confided, draping an arm around his shoulders. 

***

In the deepening gloom of the curving stairwell stood a boy of 
fourteen, who'd scarcely dare breathe until the pair had passed on to 
their room. He hung there by the wall, pressed against it, until he 
heard the door close. Then, he turned, creeping softly past the 
living room where the gentle clink of dishes being set in a drying 
rack could still be heard. After he cleared that point, however, it 
was then that he ran. 

And when he made it out the front door, and the door beyond it, he 
began to mutter under his breath. 

"'Place it in his hands,' he said. No, COMMANDED. Screw that! I've 
wandered all about this damn drafty Villa looking for that Hidaka-
Dono guy. I've got a hell of a lot better things to do with my 
nights!" 

The youth darted down that side corridor, and entered the main one, 
but turned left into an alcove rather than right. There, half-hidden 
behind two large palms lay a window, beneath which stood a ladder. 
One he'd found by the rear entrance--for purposes unknown. 

"If he can't find it on his dresser, that's his problem."

***

The trip back to the hotel started out innocently enough, but ended 
like a makeout session. The three of them wound up on the floor of 
the carriage, exchanging fervent kisses and mad groping, arousing 
each other but granting no satisfaction. It was no different when 
they arrived back, for Crawford promptly slid his hand down the back 
of Schuldich's trousers and kept it there until they got to the hotel 
room. 

Then, before closing the door, he pulled them down altogether, giving 
a passing page quite a show prior to shutting him and the world out 
of their impending orgy. 

Crawford drew him into his embrace, and kissed him thoroughly, 
caressing every inch of flesh he could easily get his hands on. It 
was only when he realized that Nagi was about to leave them that he 
pulled away. 

"Where are you going?"

Nagi stopped in his tracks and turned around to face them. "To my 
room."

Crawford gave him a wicked grin. "Wrong."

Nagi looked from him to Schuldich, then back again. His tongue 
flickered over his upper lip. "Where am I going, then?" he asked, as 
if he knew but wanted affirmation anyway. 

Crawford released Schuldich with a squeeze and walked over to Nagi. 
Caught him by one arm and pulled him close, chest to chest; he held 
him there quietly, noting the faint thump-thump of his heart. Not 
once did he take his eyes away from Brad's, not even when his hands 
stole under Nagi's t-shirt. 

"You and Schuldich and I are going to play." 

He gathered the hem in bunches and pulled it over his head; let it 
drop to the floor. Palmed his nipples. Nagi gave a little gasp, and 
flexed his hands against Crawford's arms. 

"Do you want to play, Nagi?" he whispered against his temple. 

"...Yes..."

Crawford's hands moved down his stomach, lightly stroking 
now. "Good." 

One hand twined itself in his hair, forcing his head back for a 
kiss. The other fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He 
broke the kiss and yanked the garment down to Nagi's ankles. Mouthed 
his tip and made him whimper, and grab at him. Crawford pulled free 
and got to his feet. 

"Shh, Nagi. I'll give you what you want tonight." 

He moved behind him and gave him a hard shove, sending him sprawling 
into Schuldich's arms. "I'll give you what you want, you'll give 
Schuldich what he wants, and you'll give me what I want. Isn't that 
fair?"

Nagi swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. 

"Good. I'm glad we are in agreement." He walked over to them and 
came up behind Schuldich, pressed up against him. His hands went 
around the redhead's throat, and he fondled him there. 

/And Aubrey...I don't worry about the two of you because I know I 
don't have to. That's the beauty of being a precog./

/All those times I warned you off of doing things...I didn't do that 
because of your talents--and you know it. The same goes for Savil./

He licked his cheek. 

/And you know it./

"...Or, you should." 

A quick waggle of his tongue in Schuldich's ear, and Crawford was off 
to the bathroom, tugging off his clothes as he went and leaving them 
where he threw them. The next sound they heard was that of rushing 
water. Nagi wriggled a little in Schuldich's arms, more from what 
the German was doing to him than out of any urge to escape. 

A pair of black boxers sailed from the bathroom to the hall, 
crumpling beside the baseboard. Crawford appeared in the doorway, 
and lounged there like a whore on the make. 

"Come along, my darlings."

***

"Just a moment, mon petit lapin!" Schuldich laughed, tweaking Nagi's turgid 
member back and forth as he did so.  ::I need to have a word with your ward 
which is nothing I haven't already talked to you about.::

Crawford heaved a sigh and cattily fumbling his own navel returned to the 
bathroom, whose door he left gaping and loosing billows of faint sandalwood-
smelling steam which began to grow paler and paler and nearly opaque as 
Schuldich cradled the telekinetic against him with a grip which was everything 
but gentle. The boy regarded him, scowling faintly with want since he was now 
being stroked with careless fingers which fell everywhere between his legs, save 
where he wished, but doing so at least, with a deep and sensuous pressure.

"The day Brad brought you home I figured you'd never go back to liking dick- 
that you'd grow out of what you'd done and go for girls.  But then again, I'm not 
the precog here, am I? And you were only... what, eleven? Yeah, eleven."

He hitched him up then, strung him to his toes with the hand still resting on his 
crotch.

"And I didn't want you then."

The moans had grown to sharp and too stinted to last much longer, so he 
retreated from the more sensitive places on the boy's body, and merely stilled him 
as he spoke, slinging one arm around his shoulders as if they were the dearest of 
friends, and that the fact they were both naked and dripping was an accident.

"But I meant what I said to you yesterday, and this won't be the only time.  Heh, 
you're a grownup boy now, and you already know all the grownup games."

"Don't you, Herrchen?"

Their eyes met then, green on blue green, and the body in his arms grew 
almost imperceptibly tense.

To which he cooed in the least consoling tone he knew- his breathy bedroom sigh.  
"Brad doesn't have to be in charge in the bedroom... or the shower."

Even though he knew well what had conjured that fleeting aftertaste of 
guarding suspicion sweet as sherbet.

Still embracing, he still grinning, they started at last to the bathroom.

::And anyway, just so you remember, for you know but probably haven't 
thought of it, he's all but blind without his glasses.  So mind yourself... or don't.::

And then they shut the steam inside- clasping each other and being so coolly 
regarded by their mutual bedmate, who they kissed each, nibbling one another's 
lips as they waited their turns for Crawford's mouth.

(OOC Herrchen is German for "Lordling".  Seems Nagi has a nickname now...)

***

When Nagi swooped in for another embrace of tongues, Crawford made a 
grab for him, only to find his hands caught firmly in the boy's own. 
They slid together, palm to palm until their fingers laced. 

But couched in the erotic twinges of pleasure were Schuldich's 
parting words. Words which gave him all sorts of ideas. 

He pulled away from Crawford, and stepped aside to let Schuldich have 
his turn, silently asking him to lure their mutual lover away from 
the edge of the tub and over to the sink. He would take it from 
there. 

Schuldich gave him a wicked, wicked smile, and bent to claim 
Crawford's mouth. Slowly, he coaxed him up, dealing touch for 
naughty touch, drawing him along with the same until he had him in 
position. Then he broke away and stepped back, and Nagi moved in. 

Before he knew what happened, Crawford was bent chest down onto the 
sink's counter, pressed down and kept there by unseen hands. 

"What...are you doing?"

Nagi ran his hands along the insides of his thighs, making him 
twitch. "Getting you into position."

"Position? For...?" He gasped when Nagi moved one hand up to pet 
the sensitive skin behind his sex. "No. This isn't how we play."

"Tonight it is. Besides," he murmured as he bent to place a kiss at 
the base of his spine, "you said you'd give me what I wanted." 

"I didn't think this was it." 

"Then you're blind, Crawford." Nagi withdrew his hands and picked up 
the bottle of scented oil one of them had left there earlier. No 
doubt this little escapade was planned in advance. With Crawford, 
most things were. Nagi uncorked it for a whiff, thinking it was 
sandalwood, but found a decidedly floral scent instead. A peek at 
the label provided its name, written in flowing script: Wisteria. 
Nagi poured a generous amount onto his hand then wafted it under 
Schuldich's nose. 

/He likes the strangest things./ 

A shrug and Nagi dipped his oiled fingers between the globes of 
muscle, slipping one inside without warning. Crawford gasped softly, 
and wriggled, but stayed silent. Another, and another slid in, 
thrusting teasingly back and forth until the older man began to 
moan. 

Then Nagi prepared himself, and plunged into him with a strangled 
cry, one which was underscored by Crawford's throaty groan. 

***

Schuldich would have given a standing ovation then- he had already gone through 
all of the obligatory actions of a rather wild fan of something.  He had whistled 
through his fingers.  He had clapped.  He had sprung up against his heels in the 
little sort of jump girls do to show off their breasts.

Then he had doubled over laughing.

::He does, Nagi! He DOES!::

With a little thump, he made it all the way to the floor, as the bleak answering 
thoughts of his caught lover did nothing to hold him up.

But just as suddenly as his mirth had begun, it subsided, and he got to his now 
wobbly feet, scrubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hand.  With sleek 
deliberation, he caressed Crawford's back then, as if his fingers were but silk 
driven over his spine, and he rubbed Nagi's fluxing body until he fell upon the 
place were they were joined, and he tickled them both there until they were 
shuddering, and he had drawn away, licking the wisteria oil from his fingers.

"I'm sorry Bradley! I'm so sorry but... GOD! If you could see yourself!" Another 
spat of laughter, one which had been waiting impatiently to make it's appearance, 
and this time manifested more as the suppressed chuckles of a schoolboy up to no 
good.

Schuldich at last took a more serious look at the situation, and this done, pushed 
all of the bottles lining the vanity around the sink, into the sink itself before taking 
their place and sitting himself upon the marble, which despite the steam, was still 
quite cold against his bare skin.

Crawford's head he nudged into one of his thighs.  With one hand he caressed 
himself, and with the other combed his lover's hair.

***

Nagi, having been so carefully primed prior to his impromptu joining 
with Crawford, didn't take long to achieve release; did so shuddering 
and moaning until he at last collapsed a top the broad expanse of his 
guardian's back. Lay there panting, and drowsily watched Schuldich 
fondle himself. Lay there until Crawford twitched and muttered some 
vague threat, at which time the boy pulled out, and tore away the 
bonds he'd lashed him with. 

Moved those few centimeters and, coaxing Schuldich's hands away with 
strings of kisses along his splayed thighs, took him in his mouth all 
the way. The German arched upwards, and Nagi let him. He snaked his 
arms around him, pressed his hands flat on the small of his back, 
head bobbing dreamily. Pulled back catch Schuldich's eye as he bent 
forward to lap at that part of him like it was a frozen treat. 

Beside him, he felt Crawford rise up, breathing hard as he had been. 
He knew how much of a temptation his bare ass was, upturned and 
waggling as it was, but he didn't move back. Didn't jerk away from 
his hands when he stroked him there, when his slickened fingers 
probed him. 

"Is this what you want?" he asked. "Do you want me, Nagi?"

The boy didn't answer him, merely lazed between Schuldich's legs. 
Thrust encouragingly against his hand as he penetrated him finger by 
finger. 

But when Nagi felt the tip nudge him, he pulled back a bit, bracing 
himself just above Schuldich with his hands on the counter. 
Whimpered when he plunged forward without warning. 

But when he had settled himself, and Nagi had gotten his bearings 
back after the sudden flash of pain, he opened his eyes, and mouthed 
the tip of Schuldich's sex, rimming it over and over with broad 
sweeps of his tongue.

***

Schuldich gasped and slide his legs further apart, welcoming Nagi's 
slim body between then. One foot he reached around and slid daintily 
over the boys shivering back, just because he could, and his toes 
were cold. He got himself a moan from his lover's ward, and a little 
nibble, teeth and all, which crossed his head with great indelicacy, 
and made hi back his other heel against the counter when he jerked.

"Agh! Nagi! Ow!"

But it was he who got the little slap over the edge of his neck, not 
the boy. He looked up to see Crawford staring into whatever veil 
best resembled him, eyes narrow in some little glare of displeasure 
and of blindness. It only made him purr, and arch, just in time with 
Bradley as their lovely little toy rocked back and forth between 
them, now embracing his tingling cock, now sucking at the 
precognitive's with his most tender places. Grinned at him, made him 
feel the grin inside, even as they both shook once more, and shortly 
fell toward one another.

Nagi's back creaked between them as they leaned into one another's 
mouths, pierced him at the same moment, and tasted each other. The 
boy moaned again, and Schuldich felt the cheek against his leg grown 
cold and pale. So he held it, snagging his fingers in the lank, dark 
hair, rubbing him all he dared and still steadying his mouth against 
him. Letting him room to swallow him if he liked, though he did not.

::I don't think he can breathe.::

The faintest grumble of acknowledgement. Crawford drew back a 
moment, taking up his ward's legs. Not simply holding them, but 
drawing them off the floor. He ended his licks and turned a moment 
to glare at the elder of his bedmates, only to gasp when he was 
hitched around him, and still taken, there, with nothing of him 
remaining on the floor. At least not until he came the second time, 
which was long before Brad even had his first orgasm of the evening. 
Schuldich braced his arms around him and smiled and smiled and smiled.

At least until he almost fell off the counter, only just managing to 
catch himself on the mirror's edge. He covered his mouth then, as if 
embarrassed by how he had screamed though that and his climax.

"Well, We're filthy, now what?"

::I'm well aware of your objection to my pun.::

Nagi answered by crumpling into his lap.

***

"I guess you gather up our little lap dog, and follow me to the 
shower." 

/And I'm more than willing to play any little game you propose./ 

At that, Nagi unwound himself a little, and peered censorously over 
his shoulder at his guardian. Crawford, however, was unmoved. 

"And don't give me that look of protest, Nagi. We all know it's 
true. Even Savil." He cocked a brow at him, then turned away. 
Climbed into the shower stall and began fiddling with the knobs, the 
adjustable shower heads. The water splashed over him from three 
sides, head to thigh, washing away all traces of his session with 
Nagi. Crawford ducked his head under one and thoroughly drenched his 
hair. Slicked it back with both hands. 

Turned to his lover and ward and said, "Well?"

Nagi switched his attention back to the redhead, gazing intently into 
his eyes for a drawn out moment before rising up to kiss him deeply. 
Slid down and padded to the tub as quietly as a cat, and stepped in. 
Holding Crawford's eye, he stepped up to him, then past him to stand 
under another set of showers. Poured a generous helping of the 
sandalwood gel the other had brought onto his hands, and began to 
clean himself. 

Crawford, as he watched him coat his lithe body with the thick lather 
he bore in his palms, wondered just what had passed between him and 
Schuldich just then.

***

Permission.

Memories.

Disembodied signifiers the most astute semioticians would have wept over 
deciphering.

The average telepathic conversation.

But in the end, ::And don't be mad about it, Herrchen.  Even lapdogs bite.  
Usually when they aren't fed.  You just swallowed a big mouthful of my cum, so 
that might not apply to you.  Well, all the more surprise if you decide to show 
your teeth.  Isn't it?::

Schuldich stayed wide open on the counter, cocking his bones this way and that as 
he watched his catamite and his lover through the half-parted glass.  Both of them 
were fair and wet and dripping against the deep blue tile, fizzing in and out of 
focus behind the ricocheting spray.  Nagi washed his hair as he did more or less 
every other night.  Crawford swayed and jostled himself around, becoming with 
the scent of his soap, the silk of his movements.

The telepath decided he wouldn't go one way or another with what they had 
brought themselves for their moments of amusement in the shower.  Instead, he 
reached into the cataclysm of bottles in the sink, pulled out a box of the soap that 
had come with the room and dumped its contents into his hand.

Strawberry.  Shaped like a strawberry.  Pink.

Pink enough to make pink later.

And now his.

Flipping it up and down as if it were a quarter, he pranced into the shower and 
slammed the door behind him as a cue that he hand finished his entrance and 
everyone ought to look at him.  Which they did.

Crawford with his tongue as well, for he kissed him, and held him under the same 
jet he had taken to himself, until the henna red of his hair had melted into thin 
organdy- slick strung with diamond droplets.

Nagi finally paid them some heed, and stood watching Crawford hold his demon 
by the back of his neck, tilting him this way and that in admiration.

::You always liked me wet.  He does too, you know.  You're going to carry 
around buckets of water to keep me like this when we move into St. Catherine's, 
aren'tcha?::

As usual, little time for an answer was allotted.  Rather, he kissed his soap as if 
sampling the taste of a real strawberry, and with the dampness of his own saliva 
draw a sudsy ring around his neck, which trickled down his chest at last.

Not to mention that he blew a single bubble with his slick lips.

And tore away, seeming to chase it at first.

But he stood behind Nagi with his hands on his hips.

"You missed a spot on your back."

The boy regarded him with plain disinterest.  Plain, but wretchedly adorable, and 
it only made him smirk harder.

"Just hold still."

So tossing the soap back and forth between his hands, he let it work its way down 
the thin and fragile-seeming back- ticking the knots from his shoulders, the sweat 
from his skin, and leaving the most temporary white traces behind it's little tips.  
Usually over the last indications of Farfarello's claws.  Those were almost gone, 
but a lick of his mind found the memory of the encounter recent, hovering, on his 
mind and nowhere near it.

He knelt to get at his waist then, while Nagi kept moving under his hands, rinsing 
his hair, his face, steaming up the tile with his little breaths.

It almost made him think twice about putting the strawberry soap up his ass.

Almost.

***

Nagi gasped, and reflexively jerked away from Schuldich, bracing 
himself against the wall on his elbows. Behind him, he heard 
Crawford's sinister chuckle. Felt Schuldich's slick hands drift down 
his legs. It had hurt at first, being so penetrated. 

But now...

As he moved, it didn't. And the more he moved, the more the 
sensation vexed him. It was a tease, just like Schuldich himself. 
Nagi moaned a little as he straightened up. 

Schuldich's hands left him, and when he turned around to give his 
back equal time under the jets, Nagi found his guardian was working 
his way down his tormentor's back with a soapy cloth. One smirking, 
the other oblivious. 

It only maddened him that much more.

One hand, he spread palm upwards before him, narrow beams of energy 
manifesting themselves seemingly out of thin air and swirling around 
him, only to gather into a small, tight ball. Enough power to drive 
one of them back, possibly stun them, should either of them make a 
move to stop him. 

And he'd already chosen his target.

The door slid back a bit on its own. An object, one of the few that 
hadn't been used on him, sailed from the pink plastic carryall of sex 
toys to the shower to hover in midair between him and Schuldich.

It was a waterproof, anal vibrator. 

"I would hate to be the only one who's having any fun. So, 
Schuldich...Why don't you put that in Crawford?"

***

Schuldich, who was, by now, all too used to objects which would now and then 
display the tendency and the tenacity to levitate of their own accord, reached over 
and plucked up the vibrator without offering it more than the barest of glances 
with his peripheral vision.  

"'course I will! You're absolutely right! Mon petit lapin only came once to-night! 
And he can do sooooooooooo much better."

Which got him the usual cold scowl from Brad, who he turned to, letting the last 
of the suds roll down his back and away, save for a handful of bubbles, which has 
somehow or other ended up in his hair.

"You'd just hate to disappoint me now, wouldn't you?"

And he had the precognitive in his embrace then, all of his body, even as he made 
some symbolic little retreat.  One step deeper under the shower jets.  But 
Schuldich held him yet, and simpered with his jade eyes alone.  Water ran into 
both of their mouths as he kissed him, ground against him with his lips and his 
waist, but only for a moment.

::So you'll fight the boy but not me? I'm honored, I guess.::

Either way, he held the vibrator up with the sort of posture a babysitter adopts 
when trying to feed a disagreeable child, and he ran just the tip of it over 
Crawford's cheek, making a little swoop for his mouth.

"Now make it nice and wet!"

A quick touch of Nagi's thoughts found Bradley's ward had given up on washing, 
and now gave the two of them his full attention.  His little aftertaste of 
wonderment, which  stirred and became the full flavor of whipped cream alone as 
his guardian took the head of the vibrator in his mouth, sucking and nibbling it 
slowly as Schuldich worked it this way and that.  At least for a time, until he got 
bored.  Kissed him again, reached around, and slid the thing inside him with one 
jolt, and one flick of his fingers over the switch.  Onto the hi setting.

But the suggestions of his thoughts had also entered his long time lover's, and 
pushed his feet out from under him.  Crawford dropped to his knees with a 
vehement complaint, and he only gripped him against his chest, and shook his 
head.

***

"Hm. I may be your lapdog, Crawford, but it seems that YOU are 
Schuldich's." 

That earned him a gleam of icy blue irritation. Crawford made to 
rise, intending to slap his infuriatingly smug face, but Schuldich 
pulled him back and kissed him again. As he watched, the tension 
melted away from his guardian's limbs, and he twined his arms around 
the redhead's back. 

Then, as he observed, Crawford broke the kiss to arch against his 
lover, eyes closed, and mouth parted softly. As if he were verging 
on a rapturous state. Schuldich was doing everything in his power to 
push him over that edge, using his mouth and hands as instruments. 

It was an erotic sight, and try as he did to view it detachedly and 
analytically, he could not. He ached to ravage Schuldich, since he'd 
already had Crawford, and more than once did his dark gaze stray in 
the direction of his ass. 

But he didn't make one move in his direction. Instead, he curled 
himself into one tiled corner, and took himself in hand, and sought 
his own leisurely release. Thrust his slim hips back and forth in 
mimicry of sex. 

Crawford, however, didn't take a moment's notice of him. It was all 
about Schuldich with him. He felt his lover's ardent mouth seek his 
throat, felt his teeth graze his skin. He snaked his fingers through 
his wild mane and tugged his head back just enough for a kiss. 

/Do you want me to fight you? Wanting a bit of non-con, even if its 
all an act?/

***

::Hmm, that's not my thing, you know that.:: Schuldich replied, 
reaching around to hitch the pummel of the vibrator deeper into 
Bradley. He pulled it a little too hard on purpose and got himself 
some curses hissed with fleeing breath. In the middle of another 
kiss, he went on. ::This is one of those times you're asking to see 
what I'll do. Like getting someone a birthday present so you can 
play with it too. OK. You wanna fight me? Go ahead. Could be fun!::

The next thing he felt was Crawford's fists on his chest. Smarted 
though it did, he laughed- "That tickles. Cut it out!"

Which got him a slap across his left cheek, which he wheeled with, 
even if he knew it was only for show. Nothing close to what had been 
considered for Nagi. The jerk of it loosed his hold on his lover 
enough to let him struggle, which he did, and with many a light and 
almost pitiful moan. But he could get no sure footing in the pool 
which had collected on the shower floor, and Schuldich could not keep 
his grip with his hands so wet. He would loose one hold and take 
another. Kiss him and have his tongue bitten. It bled the last 
time. The water underneath them cracked and skittered over the glass 
where it was thrown. The precognitive would catch his breath at odd 
moment when his pursuer or his own motions would shift the angle of 
the sex toy stuck in him, which he hadn't bothered to turn off. 
Schudich knocked against it on purpose and was banged against the 
wall almost loosing his hold all together. But he had Brad by the 
hair then, one of his knees jammed between his legs.

And this was enough to push him down into the two inches of water 
which stood on the ground. He simply knelt on him then, grinning and 
battered by falling water. The dark threads of Crawford's hair 
washed slowly from his cheeks and drifted aimlessly around his ears. 
He couldn't see, and he didn't have to. The lack of focus in his 
eyes, however, was the only thing truly at his lover's mercy.

"That's enougha that. I win. Back to my lap with you!"

So he set his palms on the white shoulders then, finding just the 
right place where they might fit exactly against the first hints of 
the web which crossed his upper back. Blood oozed from his lip and he 
forgot to lick it off so it splattered and ran into the drain the 
moment he started to move.

::Hmm, I think I did enjoy that. I know it was good for you.::

Lost in slickness, he ground his cock on Crawford's, thrusting 
against him as if taking him fully. Now and again, he would slide 
his hand between his own thighs and pierce himself with them.

But then again, he hadn't forgotten they were not alone.

::You want it, Nagi-chan? Wait until he comes again, give him his 
glasses back and then... hmm... how do you want me? Up against the shower 
doors? Thrown over a chair? I'm up for most everything...::

***

Nagi, as it turned out, had a chance to ponder Schuldich's question 
for Crawford chose to come then. And he did so quite audibly and 
with much stretching and thrusting of his hips against his lover's. 

And after the tumult had concluded, he did his impression of a 
puddle, his legs still cradling Schuldich. 

/Oh, you know I loved that. A bit of rough every now and again 
certainly adds spice./ 

Crawford sat up, and bussed him soundly, then, after giving himself a 
quick rinse under the nearest nozzle, exited the shower. Draped a 
towel over his head, and his terry-cloth robe over his back, and sat 
down on the counter. Lit up a cigarette, and leaned back against the 
steamed mirror. 

And grinned. 

Nagi only spared him the merest glance before giving Schuldich the 
whole of his attention again. How did he want him? A simple 
question with a multitude of answers. He thought it was a pity they 
couldn't go 'til morning. Well, sort of a pity. Not so much of one 
now as he no longer had to sleep alone. He had his darling to hold 
him in the night. 

Despite the fact that such sentiment was ridiculous, and quite 
unusual for an assassin to be harboring, it meant a lot to him. 

A lot. 

"I want it," he said in a quiet voice. "And I want you on your hands 
and knees on the carpet. Right there," he added with a twitch of his 
head towards the rectangular space between the tub and sink.

***

Schuldich took his time getting to his feet. "Mmm, are you sure 
that's all?" he purred, curling one arm around the boy, feeling him 
drip and shake with the thrum of his heart, there under the spray 
none of them had bothered to turn off. A nod, He certainly didn't reach for either 
of the shower knobs, simply swayed against his hips, let his stiffness trace against 
him just the littlest bit as he bent and ran his tongue along the curve of his ear 
rather than speak to him. He left a little trail of his own blood there, only to kiss it 
away.

::What's the matter? Think you have to treat me all softly like you 
do her? You could hold my face down in one of the chairs outside, or 
halfway under water just to listen to me choke.::

And all he got in answer was a kiss so fierce, it, rare as ivory 
roses back on earth, did what was nearly impossible, and paled to 
into sweet death the little rejection of the boys mind which came 
with it.

The boy thought no such thing.

Brushing himself lightly wherever he dared, as if trying to shoo the 
dampness form his fair skin, he sauntered from the shower with 
everything to go with his moves but the crimson carpet. Crawford got 
the little wink, which he returned from behind the soft focus 
condensation on his newly returned glasses and his smoke.

::Baby, I'm amazed you got that thing to light in here.::

Standing just where Nagi had wished, the telepath smacked his own ass 
before sinking his fingers into it, parting himself just a little. He bent then, and his 
wet hair slithered over his shoulders or stuck to his back like slivers of dark coral, 
so he combed it all to once side.

Met the floor with his knees and crouched there, licking his fingers 
before beckoning with them.

***

/It's all in the wrist,/ thought the practically salivating Crawford 
back at his lover. He'd watched Schuldich prepare himself most 
intently, and was still feasting his eyes on his upthrust ass when 
the boy approached him. 

/Mmm...Fuck./

/You know, I've half a mind to throw the kid out on his ass, lock the 
door, and have you myself./ 

He felt him smirk, briefly, for Nagi had knelt behind him and had 
begun to press kisses along his spine. His hands stroked his 
thighs. 

For Crawford, it was all too much. He climbed off the counter and 
dropped to his knees onto the carpet. Crawled towards them, and sat 
back alongside the wall to watch. Nagi had reached the end of his spine by then. 
He paused after giving that last kiss as if considering 
something, then shook his head. Had mentally sent his refusal as 
well, if Schuldich's groan was anything to go by. 

/This isn't about you. It's about me. All about me, for a change./ 

Nagi slicked himself up quickly and ground into him, letting his 
breath out in a hiss when he had filled him to the hilt. Hung there, 
panting, savoring the feel of him. 

"Is this why you always like to fuck him?"

"Hmm...One of the reasons."

/...One of the many.../

Schuldich swore, and bucked under Nagi, to which the boy only grabbed 
him harder about the hips, but moved not. And then he did, but only 
the tiniest thrust. More like the insipid roll of a wave at low 
tide. 

Crawford chuckled, and rolled up onto his hands and knees again. He 
positioned himself directly in front of Schuldich, on his side, and 
slid his fingers into his mouth.

***

Schuldich kissed Crawford back, for the creeping ministrations of his digits could 
be called nothing but a kiss.  Too sensual for a mere caress such as finger tips are 
left with in sex, too much control to just be sex.  So he twined him with his tongue 
and felt him tracing what must have been by then the very familiar and unsteady 
wet flesh of his mouth.

/You're having me now, just like you like, mmm?/

Even if he lowered his chest almost to the floor then, his arms in a halo around his 
lover- not against him, but still there, threatening by presence alone.  His hips 
started to hurt inside and out, for being held still so much higher than the rest of 
him, and for not being host to the strokes against his inner walls.  He could live, 
he just rubbed what little he could move of himself against Nagi's slowly sinking 
body, and ignored the protests of his muscles.

/Practice for kneeling before Abbot Crawford./

Their catamite however, resorted at last to freezing him in place with his 
damnable invisible body.

Which he could feel- brushing up against him and shifting.  They were more 
maddening than the lack of motion, even as it subsides, for they would not, nor 
did they grow tighter and out of their maddening pressure.

It made him moan and strain what little be could.  All he could move for certain 
was his own mental hands, and those he did not surrender to Nagi.

But Brad.

Because Brad had, for the sake of appearances, had swallowed his desire, and 
contented only his fingers in their wish to be against him.  He didn't even knock, 
just sank into Crawford's head and made him embrace himself and he slunk 
through the liquid ice of him, and warmed it simply by being there and not quite 
still himself.

Nagi sank in and out of him once and the sense of it spilled from the taken 
Schuldich to he who Schuldich took, and they met by lips this time as his ass 
fluttered inside with the second swoop of the boy's cock.

***

It felt like his brain was melting. Made him want to meld with 
Schuldich. He did. It was no different than having his arms around 
him, and yet, it was. 

It was so much better. 

Crawford nearly forgot to breathe; Schuldich had to prompt him. 

He was dimly aware of the fact that one of his arms had found its way 
to Schuldich's shoulders, and that Nagi had picked up the pace of his 
thrusts. Pleasure pulsed through him in red and yellow with every 
hitch, courtesy of his beloved. 

/I want you to sleep with me tonight. Just sleep.../

/I want to feel your body curled all around mine./ 

/Oh...God.../

/...Aubrey.../

He clutched at him desperately. Behind Schuldich, Nagi had begun to 
moan. Down the link, Crawford could feel how tightly he was holding 
onto Schuldich. He wanted to kiss the marks he'd leave in the 
privacy of his room, if his lover would let him do it. 

Crawford crumpled onto the floor, Schuldich's long hair fanning 
across his bared chest and throat. Again, he was only vaguely aware 
of it, of what was going on around him. But now, he suddenly didn't 
care. He was about to explode. 

He did so all over his robe. Nagi did so deep within Schuldich. The 
boy thrust into him until he was drained and soft. Then he slid out 
and fell back against the cabinets. 

For Crawford, it was over all too soon. 

/Damn overeager teenager.../ he thought at his lover as he opened his 
eyes, and dragged himself back up on his side. Focused dazed eyes on 
the teen in question. 

"She's coming, Nagi. Your princess is about to return to the castle, 
and she'll be wanting her knight."

He blushed a bit at that, which mildly surprised Crawford. "Wanting 
me? Why--?"

"Just clean yourself up, and put on a pair of those goofy pajamas and 
go to her room. Get into her bed. She won't send you away when she 
finds you there." 

The boy stared at him, panting, for a few moments, then he rolled 
onto his knees and crawled over to them. Kissed first Schuldich, 
then Crawford. 

Then he left. 

Crawford waited until the boy was gone before he roused himself to 
his feet. Shedding his robe en route, he took up a clean washcloth 
from the rack and held it under the still streaming water. Washed 
away the remnants of his spent passion from his stomach and thighs, 
rinsed the cloth, then, after switching the stream to tub from 
shower, beckoned to Schuldich. 

"Come here, Aubrey, and I'll clean you up too."

***

Schuldich dragged himself up from the bathroom floor and promptly 
bent over backwards in an effort to crack his back out of it's 
misalignment. Which worked. Sort of.

However, he could still hear Bradley's original request in his mind 
when he was upright once again, and his puzzlement made him look 
drowsy, which he wasn't really. He remembered he didn't sleep just 
right, not like a person without his abilities, but did Crawford 
remember? Barely, a quick caress confirmed, and his lover was still 
so hot and ready inside that one little touch made him tense and 
catch his breath.

But not change his mind.

/So you're sure about that... well... Ok... whatever./

The last time Brad had specifically requested his presence beside 
him, neither in him nor on him nor around his sex in any way, had, 
Schuldich seemed to remember, involved a minor overdose of codeine on 
the Precognitive's part, and ended up with both of them struck down 
in the prime of lechery by a long-lived flu bug. 

Just to make sure they weren't in for a repeat, he, ankle deep in the 
drawing bath, pressed one of his wrists to Brad's forehead, skewing 
his glasses a bit. 

And he wasn't any warmer that was to be expected, his thoughts not 
tainted by fever or whimsy. Just a serious little want that didn't 
taste like him, didn't taste like anyone else.

::You wanna kiss my stomach now? Since that's where he was holding 
me. Higher up that you do. Wasn't real comfortable.::

A wish for him to be still was enough of a yes. Crawford got to his 
knees in the siding water and tongued his soar belly until his 
muscles quivered underneath his skin to show his gratitude.

Then they both sank down, and he was still while he washed him. All 
over. He handled his cheeks and his toes, the smears of cum on his 
navel that hadn't been licked away, the skin of his sex. And then he 
let out the water and washed his hair under the jets since it hadn't 
been cleaned before, just wetted. His glasses kept getting splashes 
or fog on them, which would coalesce into drips and run down his 
cheek. Schuldich watched this instead of his eyes.

The kids had left the living room by the time they passed through it 
and slide into their own space. The sheets had been changed and were 
white now instead of blue. The brush and a few henna threads lay 
perched where the lamp had been. No new one in it's stead, the room 
was lit only by the glare of some oil lamps outside, and some blue 
moon tatters.

Aubrey nodded to his lover then. Drew back the sheets and pushed him 
down on the mattress. Threw himself down beside him and slung one 
arm over his chest. Felt his breath come much slower than his own.

***

Ran had indeed read until he fell asleep.

One moment to rest his eyes had turned into many moments, or still time, save 
that his chest still moved with the deep breathing of sleep.  It seemed the only 
movement present in the room at first, but the veils of their bed rocked this way 
and that from the breeze which seeped past the glass of their bedroom window, 
and the pages of the book kissed their neighbors while the while of the dark 
outside vibrated in its personal dimness, the achy cyan beyond the light on their 
nightstand.

He managed to grab the chord and pulled it free of the wall rather that take his 
head from Ran's thighs.  And the blue came into them then.  He could no longer 
see well, could not find the signs of passing existence and light within their room, 
though the indistinctness of those two silver crystals in the sky- that seemed to 
breathe, to know the pulse of clear grey blood, and all around him, past the gauze, 
given a small, swaying benign life.  

As if sleep called to him as well.

Although he saw no phantoms, knew no hallucinations winding from the patterns 
of the blue mist he took for walls.  Though he felt no fear on his beloved's lap. He 
could not even close his eyes for very long without suddenly feeling he ought to 
keep them open and there watch without even blinking the world that silent lack 
of motion made.

Only an hour passed before he was sure he would not sleep that night.

And it didn't bother him.  He could still find himself content to lay beside Ran, 
simply as a warmth for him.

Besides, what could dare com upon him and ruin his heart when he had such a 
boy as this watching over him? Such a body, such a soul, made itself of phantoms 
once, such as failed to plague him and would not grant him peace besides resting.

Would not grant him blindness, besides running over and over old memories by 
the cobalt water of space and the alabaster of his lover's skin which he dreamed 
became cold shortly after the first periwinkle rent of dawn eased his nonexistent 
worries.

*** 

There were some things he simply couldn't imagine his birthday without.  The 
stories his mother told.  The strawberry lime mooncake.  Even the bitter cold.  No, 
they all belonged to him this day.  They were special.  They had made him long 
ago in the fleeting bloody passions of his daydreams.  The pieces of him too soft 
for words.

And maybe it hadn't snowed this year, but the fact he was finally ten made up for 
it.

That it was Sunday? Ah, that he could not match with words, for Sundays were 
too soft for words.

No one waited for him at the table that morning for breakfast, but since no one 
ever did, he could not and would not be bothered by it.  Besides, he knew well he 
had not been the only one to pass the kitchen this morning, for at the chair of their 
two which had been his as long as he could remember, there sat the pink and 
green swirls he so remembered.

He ate his mooncake in giddy silence, and with his fingers.

Ten years old to-day! Finally! Finally!

And it was almost time for his two year anniversary as well.  No one in fifth grade 
had had their sweeties that long! But he had.  Even if he couldn't talk about it.

He knew he would get something special on his birthday too, from his lover.  Last 
year, Kaze had sucked him all night, and he'd gone to school bleary-eyed and 
smiling for no apparent reason.  Though, since the elder boy's parents would be 
home this time, he didn't think they could manage it again.

And besides, there was so much to do before nightfall.  Like finishing his 
mooncake.  Which he did with great enthusiasm.  And the dishes, which he did 
because he could.  

A knock at the door then, and he peered out the peephole of it to see only the 
blurry contours of a black glove, one familiar to him which he gladly drew the 
locks open for.  His mother smiled down upon him then from the roses woven 
into her dark veil.

"Otanjoubi Omedeto, KenKen."

He kissed her on the cheek after he had pulled her down close enough to reach 
that part of her fairness.  There was no need to ask why she had come back or to 
say he thought she had to work that day.  Why do any such thing when he had her 
there?  Right then.  Ready to be pulled into the kitchen where she sat, still in her 
black waves, and uncovered the basket she had carried inside.

The basket she always hid her instruments in.

Today she'd brought her angel deck of tarot cards.  The one's she'd had as far 
back as he could remember- at least, his favorite ones of such long-standing 
occupation.  For they weren't simply angels of one era, of one island or one artist.  
They were angels of all times and beauties- a menagerie of seraphs praising the 
arcane manifestations of their order.

And even though they were old and going yellow about the corners by now, he 
still couldn't resist the sight of them, the feel of their glossy paper in his hands as 
he shuffled them, and the way they let free a little whiff of pear powder when he 
fanned them into each other.

"Okasan?" He asked with a whine of frivolity and a lopsided grin.

"Ee?"

"Can you tell me the story first?"

A smiled and a nod befell him, as did a single gloved hand which riffled through 
his bangs with such skill as if it was naked.  "Aa, alright, KenKen.  It's your 
birthday.  Where do you want me to start?"

"Where you always do, Okasan!"

So she nodded, and began, eyes fixed on the likewise blue heaven of her son's, 
where there were no clouds and no angels.  Not today, or for many years to come.  
Though it was doubtful if she saw in truth in the trance of the familiar tale, the 
myth of their own religion she told her son every year on his birthday.  Had she 
on his very, very first? He wished he knew.

"Your father fell through my life like a shooting star.  One moment, he was 
everything to me and then he did not exist, but what time I knew him, Ken, I did 
love him.  And he said he would always love you, even if he faded away, which 
he did because he was nothing but a point of light.  

"My cousin Shigure knew alllll about what had happened.  He was a very famous 
doctor, and a gracious man.  He watched me while I carried you, but he has gone 
away now too- he has died.  That is why I cried when you were small.  I was 
weeping for him.  It is hard for me to forget the months I spent with him and his 
fianc‚e- the most beautiful summer there ever was up in the mountains.  I used to 
go walking a lot, and tell you about how lovely it was, and how blue the sky was, 
how the water sang.  That's why you like the outside so much."

Ken smiled.  Somehow he knew it was true.

"And even when it turned to fall, I still went outside, and Shigure would go with 
me then, and his lover.  And we would all sit by the waterfall and read together.  
It made me think you would be VERY bookish after you were born."

"I'm not?"

She ruffled his hair then.  "Well, not TOO much.  But that's why you're so smart.  
But don't you remember what happened on the first day of winter that year? It 
snowed! There were little snow kami EVERYWHERE, just like I always tell you 
about.  And we all had snow sundaes with grenadine syrup while we watched 
them dancing down onto the ground.  It was very windy and the windows kept 
whistling all through the day and into the night- sweeeee sweeee!  But then it got 
very, very still and all the little white rabbits all hopped from the bushes to see 
what the matter was.  But it wasn't anything to be afraid of.  The stars had come 
out.  And that quiet night, with the clear sky and the white earth, that's when you 
were born.  And that's why you're such a good boy."

No mention of an end, but everything, Ken knew, from this tale and others, began 
and ended with snow.  He nodded, and passed his mother the tarot cards he had 
been shuffling.  She drew his name over the stars on their backs, and leaning 
forwards so her veil fell over her eyes, plucked the first as if it were a snowdrop 
or an icy rose.

"This card is you in the present..." she said of the Sun who was borne on the arms 
of a fair, white boy whose back was hidden behind three pairs of azure wings.  
"...and this, how you exist in the present." So the sun sank behind the second card 
which she laid across it.  And marveled at.  Two celestial residents there, locked 
in an embrace no mortals could endure without weeping.  So tender and so 
sweet...

That day was the first Ken realized he could not make out which of the Lovers 
was male, and which female.

But their came a knock at the door, and they both rose to answer it.  Outside, in 
sloppy regiments, stood the neighborhood children.  Older, younger, it mattered 
not.  The cold it mattered not.  They all clapped and called to him, tossing up a 
soccer ball from their ranks- one which was brand new, and wearing a bow.  His 
mother patted his shoulder, telling him to go for now.  He left waving.  Kaze's 
arm found him and no one put away the tarot cards.

***

Even as the day faded, Ken could not believe his luck.

"Aa, Kaze-chan?" Hiharu said softly as they stood, they three, among the stalks of 
dead grass and the falling stars of their departing guests.  "Your parents have said 
you may stay for diner."

The elder bow turned to her, said naught, but smiled and bowed.  Ken had to turn 
around to hide the happy blush in his cheeks, though the fact he bent over after his 
new soccer ball was not sheerly for illusion- it also was a favor to his lover, who 
he knew was wont to rub his bottom while they tangled their bodies between math 
problems.  He heard his mother giggle and he didn't know what about.

"Alright then, but please take a shower before you come to the table."

"Hai! Okasan!"

"Hai! Hidaka-san!"

The both saluted to her, and she seemed not to know what to make of this at first.  
But a smile came to her lips before her shadow shrank all the way out from under 
the streetlights.  He felt some curious digits swooping through his bangs just then.  
No gloves, and it made him sigh a little- a glad sigh.  They found Hiharu had 
already laid fresh clothes out for them across the back of the couch, their visitor's 
brought over from his house where music could be now heard.  His parents 
seldom got time alone, and though not outright glad to be rid of him...  

Ken scooped his things up and had his hand on the doorknob the moment it was 
captured by another, and a heavy whisper settled in his ear.

"Where's the birthday boy going?"

"Kaz-..." his hushed reprimand was swallowed by a kiss he made no move to pull 
away from, though he swept the back of his hand over his lips when they had 
finished.  "Okasan'll get REAL suspicious if we don't take a shower."

"Sure, but today's so special for you, isn't it? Aren't you happy to be ten? Well... 
I'm happy you're ten.  And I want to show you how happy, but there's something 
we need to take care of first..."

Ken couldn't exactly imagine what that would be.  He could feel Kaze's stiffness 
bumping against his thighs already- more than enough to play with, and be played 
by.  "What? Tell me, quick."

"Mmm... better show you.  C'mon.  Quiet now!" And with only the most cursory 
glance down the hall to reassure him did he take Ken in his arms and push him 
into the water closet, closing the door behind them before turning on the lights.  
His little lover smile to himself at this, and without light to guide him enjoyed a 
few moments of brushing against the parts of the neighbor boy he liked best-  the 
swoop of his collar bone, the down on his arms.  The surprisingly sensitive lines 
of the backs of his thighs.  Their tongues found each other again,  Chuckles, and it 
was bright.

"I love kissing you.  It makes my tongue feel like my tummy did the first time we 
did it."

"So da na!" Spoken with especially gentleness, and in that alone he knew 
somehow he was facing yet another small challenge of their bedroom ways.  Kaze 
dragged his pants off, pulling them from his ankles by holding them down with 
his foot and lifting Ken out of them.  "Now, sit down."

He didn't though, but stood still within the boundaries of his arms, looking around 
the water closet now and then, though nothing of it changed.  It was still just the 
two of them scrunched into the little bit of space between the door and the toilet.

"But...?"

"But what?"

"There's nowhere TO sit."

Stifled giggles then, and a few loving "baka"s before he pushed him down, legs 
spread wide on either side of the seat.  Ken's toes rubbed back and forth against 
the rug in his self-consciousness and he would not let go of his lover's sleeves.  
Kaze didn't seem to mind, simply coaxed both of his hands on to one of his arms 
and reached into the pocket of the coat he still wore with the other one, coming up 
with something that crinkled and he tore open with his teeth.

"What's that?" Asked with a scowl and a turn of his head sideways as he tried to 
make the thing out through his fingers.

"Douche." All he said as he spit out the corner of the plastic bag, but he stooped 
then, and smiled into Ken's scowling eyes.  "I'm gonna use it to clean you out."  
Before Ken could so much as mumble in confusion, he felt his lips be captured 
once again, and a hand settling on the base of his back.  "It's what other boys like 
us do."

"Really?" Secrecy had made a soda bottle universe of their affair so far, and never 
had any such words passed between them.  No suggestion of another, not even 
one.  He thrilled all over, hot and cold, smitten with the romance of it, the trance 
of not being alone but...

...He had Kaze! They had never been alone! Never... never since two years 
before.

"Really! Lean forward a little."

He did so, snaking his arms around the other boy's chest and trying to turn his 
head around to see just what this game was.  He liked seeing, liked looking at 
himself caught up in another.  Like mirrors and uncomfortable angles of his neck.  
There just wasn't something right about not knowing just... "What're you gonna 
do with...?"

Ken gasped and winced as the nozzle was pushed inside him.  It was very stiff 
and blunt and it nudged on him in ways he simply didn't like.  Just the same, he 
could not lean away from it, for it had made him shake, his inner muscles working 
unhappily.  And Kaze was in the way.

Kaze who squirted the warm liquid into him and then with calm, astute wonder 
watched the burning flush which overtook his face at the result.  The heat of his 
cheeks he traced over as if it was something wholly alien, and then let him go to 
take care of himself, heading into the bathroom himself, where Ken heard him 
start up the shower and start to hum to himself.  He followed as soon as he could, 
shedding his shirt and kicking it into the hamper with his pants.  The elder-boy's 
clothes laid in a heap below the basket, to be washed on their own he guessed.  

His crimson had started to fade, at least until he reached around and rubbed his 
bottom, not yet daring to brush over the place of penetration on his own.  He had 
a little after feeling of how nice it hadn't been, and wondered just how anyone 
could find such a yucky thing nice!

Kaze found him still warm to his impending embrace.  "That wasn't so bad now, 
was it?" Asked as he locked the door and knelt upon the tile under the satiny feel 
of the spray.  

His little lover did not follow, but rather bent over under the showerhead, 
supposing that if he couldn't pluck up the nerve to finger himself THERE, maybe 
getting himself wet would work.  And it did, a little.  "I dunno."  Some of the 
water ran down over his back and into his hair the wrong way, just enough to 
dampen the chocolate brown threads.  

"Oh?" His boyfriend there, sounding small and dismayed suddenly.  His bathpouf 
he had left to dangle then, and he laid down in the pool of water which had 
collected beneath them; it was the only way he could look Ken in the eye from his 
odd position.  "Hey... did I hurt you?"

"Annou..."

"Tell me."

"A little.  And... I..."

"Mmm?"

"Never mind." A shake of his wet hair which dappled the walls with drips.

Kaze sighed and reached beneath him for the bottle of shampoo.  He got Hiharu's 
and didn't seem to notice or care, for he squirted out a glob and started foaming it 
up between his hands.  "I won't never mind.  What's the matter?"

As much as he hated to be sour on his birthday.  "That was gross doing that in 
front of you! And it didn't feel good."

A soft, regretful sigh and he felt those soapy fingers in his hair, kneading the airy 
liquid in between the strands.  His eyes closed to keep the soap out, save for the 
peek he took to see them running down his Kaze's chest.  "Look, I didn't mean to, 
but I've never done that to anyone.  I did it to myself once to try.  You wanna do 
it that way next time?"

"..."

"KenKen! Talk to me, don't be like that."

The weight of the lather was allowed to leave him and he felt nothing but water 
coursing over him.  It never took long to wash his hair.  Never.  So he had not 
time to fuss, and less time to wait to bend down after his kiss.  "I love you," was 
all he could think of to say.

His lover nodded and took his chin in his hands so he could hold it and rub a little 
at his lips.  "And I love you too.  That's why I wanted to do something extra 
special for you this year.  I'm not finished.  Do you want the rest of your 
present?"

No spoken answer, but holding the intruding fingers to his mouth, he flopped 
down on top of Kaze and the wet tile.  One splashed, one grunted with the sudden 
weight and moved as if to push him away, though gathered him closer in the end.  
"Is it something other boys like us do?" Asked almost coyly as he stretched a 
bubble between his thumb and palm, trying to catch their mutual reflection in it.

"It's something grownups like us do.  You know, like drinking or office 
meetings."

"I hope it's more fun than a meeting!"

And they both laughed, slipping against each other as they searching for lips 
unclaimed and ribs to slide their arms around.  Most of their overtures were not so 
unhurried as this one became, if overtures indeed there were.  But today was 
special enough to roll beneath the shower spray, reaching for some untried way to 
thread their bodies together, to touch everything there would be to touch.  He 
would be on top of Kaze, then pressed beneath him and the floor of the shower.  
He would be beside him, and around him.  They never kissed each other's necks 
because it left marks, but they licked there, and they nuzzled.  Kaze kneaded his 
bottom, and half-hard, Ken thrust against his waist, his gaze just far enough away 
to catch his golden eyes, and, in hot reveries, be lost there.

They smiles and their hands descended in one sweep.  He felt out the sway of his 
pelvis and Kaze massaged his thighs.  They fell apart and coughed on the flying 
droplets.  They sat between each other's legs and rubbed their knees to one 
another's.  Water on their skin, fingers on their skin, both running away and 
seeming to come reclaim the flesh once left, over and over and over.  One of his 
hands came up and turned the temperature of the shower to cool, for he had grown 
unbearably hot all over.  His friend had turned it back to warmth, pinched him 
underneath his arms and now did lie atop him, greedily nibbling a nipple.

"I'm too warm," Ken complained.  And he felt his pulse through his nervous 
stomach and into his lower belly.  It made him want to shiver, to hold something 
closer than he could his lover.  Anything to quiet it.

"Then do you want to?" Asked with a mouth over his heart.  "Tell me you want 
to."

"I want to."

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you." 

So with the same unhurried movements as before, Kaze scooped him from the 
floor hung his hot body against the side of the tub, taking no quick leave of him- 
rather, he slipped his arms into the empty basin, and pressed his head against them 
so Ken wouldn't feel the edge of the tub on his cheeks.  Only his erection, which 
he had started to rub against the wet Plexiglas until his lower half he found pulled 
out from under him.  A glance over his shoulders with what little sexual 
detachment he could muster found the neighbor boy drinking in the sight of him, 
tongue poised on one of his hands while he fumbled with his own stiffness.

With half a smile, Ken arched, and moaned silently, in jest, for it was something 
they would do when half noticed in the halls or other people's tables, but his lover 
shook at this.  And smirked.

"You just stay comfortable now.  Don't watch me.  Just relax."

So he nestled down as if he meant to sleep in the explicit pose he had taken.

The other boy barely managed to tear his eyes away.  Barely managed to, with 
any sort of steadiness to his hands, squeeze out more of Hiharu's shampoo.  But 
he did, and he drenched himself with the oozy stuff.  It mingled with the 
dampness at his tip as he inched closer to that dainty frame.  His fingers first stole 
over his little lover's spine, all the way down to the hollow it it's end.  And then 
he gathered each of his cheeks up with them, and held them apart- kissed him 
between his shoulder blades.

"Happy birthday."

And without further explanation, Koichirou Kaze stuck his cock in KenKen.

Who lurched with a hard gasp and tried to flex himself away, only to be caught by 
one hip and held fast.  The other boy had only gotten his tip in, and his clenching 
body knew this, but still protested and still fought.  He shook, he saw stars, he felt 
a scream welling up in his throat as he tried to slide deeper.

And then there was a hand over his mouth that flattened the inside of his lips 
against his teeth.  Kaze, still scooting his way in, leaned against his back and 
breathlessly whispered to him once again.  "Sorry if it hurts a little, but you know 
we can't make any noise."

Ken moaned a little as he could without his mouth and this was taken as a yes.

Kisses dusted his neck then, fingers his belly and the intangible knots he could 
still feel there.  And the voice again, almost choked and sighing now against him 
as the neighbor boy pushed his way in, spreading a thick, dull pain through his 
opening.  "Give it time, it'll feel good, I promise."

But all he knew then was the shaking fear he would split open and bleed so 
pierced by that thickness.  Was he even all the way in? Could he have much more 
to go? And how could this feel anything but wrong? The growing pressure, 
subsiding he would think and then sloshing back.  He found out later it was the 
sort of thing girls said when they took another's body into their own, but between 
his rapid, gagging breath and the strange fancies the pain engendered, he felt as if 
he was being ripped apart by hands misplaced within his body- easing in and out, 
as if waiting for the right moment to split him.

Kaze's hand stole all over his body, but not against his aching member.  He had 
forgotten he was still hard, somehow.  It was too much trying to be still and not 
bite, not bite and scream all he wanted.  But then a little brush, somewhere deep 
inside and almost forgotten by his wish for silence and for someone to succor 
him.  And that one jolt of pleasure amid the quickening thrust that wished to rend 
him... it was almost sheer pain in and of itself.  Almost unreal, or unwanted.

But it still felt good, amid the pounding and the incessant hiss of Kaze's "shhhh"s.

It was all that felt good.

In spite of himself, he thrust back against him.  And they both laughed, his 
dissolved by fingers.  It was that or he knew not what he'd come to.  

Kaze came deep inside him, left him gaping but not bloody.  Five minutes had 
passed and no more.  Ken snatched at the air with his tongue and fell panting to 
the ground.  His shoulder clanked hard on the floor before the other boy caught 
him, cradled him.  They laid together like that until his mother called, asking them 
to hurry up, and he answered with a clear voice.

But he didn't want to get up.  Not from being so wrapped up, so enfolded in the 
comforting arms, too achy to remember much but that one jolt of desire quaking 
in his flesh.  And there recalled so far apart.  He had a little, fleeting orgasm that 
made his hips roll, and he licked his own cum from Kaze's open mouth.

Then they washed each other, dressed, and went to the kitchen.

He felt dazed.  Not happy, nor sad.  Not lusty or loving.  

"KenKen?" Hiharu asked.  "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Okasan!" He beamed up at her.  "I'm just fine."

(OOC: Hiharu's line, scene one- Happy birthday.)

***

It was with great stealth that Ran had made his exit from their bed, 
as he had awakened to find his love curled up as he had left him the 
night before, his head still resting on one thigh. One hand clutched 
weakly at the sheet that covered him. 

He had eased himself out from under him and lay his head down on one 
snatched pillow. His lashes lay quiet in a pool of pale blue, signs 
of weariness he had seen all too often on Ken's face. Ran kissed him 
there, ever so gently, as if he thought the merest touch of his lips 
could wipe the smudges away. 

But he knew they could not. 

Ran stole from the bed and dressed hastily. Stopped to scribble a 
quick note on an odd piece of printout paper he'd found lying
on the little table by the window. Have a good day, he wrote.

I love you. 

This he placed on the pillow he'd claimed as his own, and then he 
left, slinging his apron over his shoulder as he went. 

The streets of Valdemar were as quiet as the Villa was at that time 
of morning. Ran had chosen to walk, instead of taking the coach, as 
he felt the need to ease into his day. He'd happened upon a tiny 
coffee shop, and there he had bought his breakfast--a bagel, and some 
coffee--and munched and sipped whilst he wandered down the sidewalks 
to Claire's. Gazed in shop windows as he passed. 

/How very Audrey Hepburn-like I am today./

/Perhaps I should have put on the dress Ken bought me. Then I really 
would have fit the part./

In the glass of an antique store, Ran made a face at himself, then he 
straightened out his hair, and finished off his last bite. Tossed 
the bag into the trash, and then, a few quick gulps later, the cup. 

He had finished his breakfast just in time for Claire's was right 
around the corner. 

He could see the interior lights when he rounded that same corner. 
The sign in the window read not "Closed" but "Come Back Later." 
Oddly enough, though, when he approached the door, a yawning girl of 
sixteen opened it. Snapped it locked again after Ran entered. 

"Claire's in the back, and she's in one of her moods. Don't say I 
didn't warn you."

About that time, a meat cleaver whizzed past the open doorway leading 
to the back room, and embedded itself in the wall. The flying 
utensil was followed by a string of angrily, rapidly hurled phrases 
in a language Ran had never heard before. 

But then, not many people in the world know how to speak Welsh. 

"What happened?" he asked quietly. 

"She's trying to improve on bubble gum ice cream, but it's not going 
very well," the girl answered, just as quietly. "As you can hear."

There was a tremendous crash then, followed bys a feminine yelp. A 
large, pink and white cardboard ice cream tub rolled from the work 
room and came to rest under one of the dainty, black wrought iron 
cafe tables. 

"To hell with bubble gum!" Came the proprietoress' bellow from the 
back. "Elspeth!? Where are you? I want some caramel!" 

The girl at Ran's side rolled her eyes. "Yes, Oh, Mighty Queen." 

"Don't you get smart with me, girl! What are you doing out THERE 
anyway?"

"Well, it could be that I was letting the new guy in." 

"New guy? What are you talking about?!" 

"The guy you hired yesterday, remember?" 

There was a sullen pause, and then the woman in question emerged from 
the back, attempting to work bits of charred gum from her hair. She 
didn't halt until she was standing directly in front of Ran. She 
stared at him for a whole minute, and then said, "What're you doing 
here, larking about? Put on that apron, and go help Genevieve with 
the clean up." 

With that, Claire spun on her heels and marched back into the work 
room. Ran looked over at Elspeth, who only shrugged. 

"Welcome to Claire's," she said as she glided off to the 
refrigerator. 


(ooc: I was referring to the opening of "Breakfast at Tiffany's" 
when I mentioned Audrey Hepburn.)

***

Morning found Nagi alone in bed, drifting on an empty sea of comforters and 
armadas of pillows which had shifted away from their hills and into the sheets 
with whatever small movements had been made during the night by those two 
who had slept there.  There was still a fissured shadow where Saffie had lain, and 
he had not yet disturbed it inadvertently within his dreams, so she not long had 
been gone.  But the windows were open and the day was fussing just softly about 
having to be up so early, her windy murmurs bearing just the faintest 
afterthoughts of lushness in the garden and of words.

But he couldn't hear a thing within the confines of their suite, not at first.  And the 
coverlets of light stirred by the swaying drapes did not compel him to rise. 

Then the sparkling nose of glass rolling on glass.  And not past the door of the 
bedroom either.  But very near.  Near enough that when someone shifted nearby, 
he could hear their clothing sliding against itself.

And then a stifled giggle.  One he knew quite well.

Sitting up though, he came across a sight he had perhaps suspected of now and 
again composing itself away from his eyes, but never really supposed he would 
see for himself.

Savil was seated on the spindly bench of the hotel dresser (which had been 
spangled all over with all manner of velvet boxes and mirrored saucers of glass 
beads), and she was not exactly dressed, but rather somewhat obscured by a thin, 
pink slip.  And he could see her from all angles from her reflection in the mirror, 
like a toy in a fancy display case.

She had not made herself laugh though.  That had probably been Schuldich who 
stood beside her, himself only in his emerald kimono and his fingers in her hair.  
A single, thin, lavender ribbon dangled from his smiling lips, and a lock of her 
hair was nestled in the hand of his which held it still for the little ivory comb he 
smoothed it with.

Although, he wasn't really watching what he was doing, not in real time, in real 
life.  He was minding his sister's reflection more than his sister.  

The same went for Saffie, who, if she had anything to say for the sated and tender 
look upon his visage there in the soft-focus morning light, she did not express it 
so that Nagi might have heard.    

***

Her heart wasn't his, not fully, he could see it.  Of course, Nagi knew that already, 
deep within the greyest corners of his soul, but still...It bothered him.  Schuldich 
always got what he wanted, when he wanted it, and never mind if someone else 
wanted it too.  It was their fault if they were too slow, or not clever enough.

But Nagi knew he was neither of those things.  He was simply too timid.  Or had 
been.  Their private session of the night before opened his eyes to many things.  
Gave him a taste of power--of the power he could wield over another.  He wasn't 
the same boy. 


For once, he would attempt to get what he wanted.

And so, the ribbon slithered from the redhead's smiling lips, only to
undulate through the air to Nagi's outstretched hand.  Schuldich ceased his 
attentions, and both of them at last turned to look at him.  Both wore smiles-- 
Schuldich's, gloating; Savil's, enigmatic.

"You have a bond with him that I can't share, I know.  One that can't be broken.  I 
am not such a fool that I would even try to do it.   But..."

The ribbon coiled around his fingers, but Nagi still held his hand out, palm 
towards Schuldich.  "I won't be used like a toy, and left behind.  Hurt, and left to 
lick my wounds alone--not anymore.  Either you love me or you don't, Savil.  But 
if you do, then I don't want him to come in your room anymore when I am here."

He shifted his gaze to Savil at last, and held it.  "And if you don't want me around 
you at all anymore, that's fine too."

***

::Oooh, somebody's jealous.:: Schuldich, while outwardly serene, was laughing as 
if there was no tomorrow on the inside, a misty orange fizz cascading from his 
mind to hers.

His answering thought bore some ticklish sense to it, a flavor likened best to a 
color human eyes can not make out in worlds where light may be split more than 
seven ways. ::Oh basta la.:: 

::I'd be flattered.:: Actually, he was, and she was.

And she laughed too.

::But you know, like I was just saying, you don't have to do this anymore.  
Nobody's forcing you, I mean...::

::But I like it when you dress me! I like this game.::

::You don't have to look like a little girl anymore- we can stop pretending if you 
want.  Hell, you're not a little girl anymore! Oh, there's my cue to get all sniffly 
and banal! Oh boohoo!:: His smirk, naturally, never faded, but he rocked his fist 
in front of his eyes as if mopping up tears.

::But I still LOOK like one, and I decided a long time ago that I liked it and I 
wanted to enjoy it.  Be~Sides! You like it as much as I do.  Oooh! Wouldn't Aya 
be MORTIFIED if he knew you played dress up with me! I hope no one tells 
him!::

A shake of his head and he crushed her in his arms, made her squeak with delight.  
A kiss to her semi-bound blond satin and he left the dresser stool without a word.  
Only five seconds had passed since Nagi had first made his request.  The kiss he 
gave the boy lasted much longer, and the time it took the resulting orb of his 
wizardry to fade was twice that.

Schuldich left the room without one word.

As for his sister, she patted the empty cushion beside her and smiled warmly as 
could be to her knight.  "Do you want to play dolly with me, Nagi-chan? Because 
I don't mind at all.  And I do want you around.  Just lots!"

/Even if you don't know how to ask nicely./

***

"Very well." 

Nagi walked directly to the closet, and opened it to find it occupied 
by Savil's red leather trunk, which lay on the floor, and by her 
countless outfits, and ten shoeboxes, all labeled as to the color 
and style of what lay within it. 

Her evening dresses hung on the left, all by themselves. She 
possessed only five now, but only one was in pink--more a deep rose. 
Nagi found that odd, for it was a color that suited her--much more so 
than the green velveteen that hung beside it in a zippered plastic 
bag. 

So, it was that particular dress that he chose. It was of silk 
taffeta, and had a swathe of see-through silver fabric covering the 
skirt. It was sleeveless, and hung down to mid-calf. A wide, sheer 
sash bound its waist. Hanging next to it in its protective bag was a 
wrap of the same sheer silver, fringed in silver silk floss and 
dotted with tiny, iridescent beaded shooting stars. 

He draped the garments over his arm and, after taking down a pair of 
shoes made of the same rose taffeta as the dress, took it all out to 
her dressing room. 

And suddenly felt very abashed, after seeing the look she gave him in 
the mirror. Perhaps he had been too heavy-handed, but...He couldn't 
help it.

Still, he felt terribly uncomfortable. Only wanted to hand her the 
garments and take his leave--but he didn't. 

"I would like to see you in this, if you approve..."

***

It was not that she found Nagi had been too dramatic, or too formal in what he 
had chosen.  Not that she was in any way unsettled by his creeping inner blush.  
Rather, she had surprised herself by listening to the thoughts of those who passed 
the walk below their window.

But all this she left in favor of swishing from the stool before her dresser and 
waltzing over to him, her slip fluttering around her just out of time with her steps 
by way of the breeze.  And she held up the dress then, sliding out the hanger and 
the sash, which she draped across the foot of the bed with the wrap for the time 
being.

And waited.

And remembered after a moment that Nagi had very little experience in the field 
of putting on little girls' clothing.  Rather than prompt him by words as so many 
would have done, she knocked politely at the barrier he wore himself.  A courtesy 
there and he left her in to suggest to his knees and his back that he ought to lower 
the garment to the floor so she might step into it.  He followed the rest of that path 
of motion on his own, and she, her back to him and just the very faintest outline 
of her panties showing though the back of her slip, did step into the petals of the 
gown.

He drew it up over her as if fearing he would tear it if he did so very quickly.  The 
catches at the back he did with his own fingers rather than with any of his power 
he had so used to banish her brother, and he did not even start to fumble, not even 
at the trick place which crosses the taffeta over her shoulder blades.  Though 
neither did his fingers brush her back as she was rather used to.

When Nagi had finished she skittered away and whirled around once for him to 
see just how she looked- to be pleased or not pleased.  And since the finishing 
touches drifted from their resting places on the bed and in her jewelry boxes to 
settle on her like feathers she had always been meant to bear for wings, she took 
him to like it.  And the stars of it especially, for he had picked the silver lace 
choker with the pink glass that didn't exactly match to rest about her throat.

Lowered her shields all the way, but not the playful jangle of her voice.

"Will you dress up too so we match?"

***  

Nagi nodded, too inwardly flustered to trust his voice to be even. 
If she hadn't been laughing at him before, she was now. He was 
sure. 

After all, he wasn't in the habit of helping pretty girls into their 
clothes. Pretty, and not so little as he had thought. 

And so, since she looked a dream, he must match her, and he would, 
for in his closet had stood his only piece of formal wear: A black 
suit, one made of cashmere that he had bought on a whim with his 
first paycheck from Schwartz. This he paired with a vest made of 
deep plum, and a pale, daffodil yellow, open-necked shirt. No tie. 
Black shoes. 

Thus dressed, he crossed the hall, and re-entered Saffie's quarters. 

"Shall we go?" he asked most diffidently.

***

Since he had not spoken when he left her room, she did likewise, and nodded unto 
him, drifting to his side like a soap bubble of especial pink.  They left the dishes 
and the goblets of beads upon the dresser, and together, close but not too close, 
descended the steps into the living room, the door to her chambers closing behind 
her, either by Nagi's will, or that of the sprites which tottled in the morning wind.

Downstairs, Schuldich, still in his robe and slung out half-dozing on the couch, 
did not exactly get up to see them off.  Simply smiled at the two of them from 
under his pale lashes, and let her tell him their own twisted little pleasantries 
without a sound.

As for the dog, who had mysteriously re-appeared within their rooms and was 
now sleeping peacefully below the shelf on which Jasper himself dozed, to him 
she stooped and there did scratch behind his ears.  "Tu es angelique aujourd-hui! 
Pour maman, sil vous plait.  Oui! Je t'aime.  Je t'aime!  Au revior, mon petit 
chen!" 

Farfarello looked at her with one, great, big, mournful golden eye.  Another pat, 
and she left him, rather skating over to Crawford, who stood now on the threshold 
of the bathroom, watching the scene as if rather he beheld some incomprehensible 
vaudeville act put together by the most inept genius. 

"Goodbye, Bradley! I will have Nagi-chan back by bedtime."

Saying so, and with no more than nods between her escort and the rest of her 
delightfully warped family, she left, and Nagi followed.  

Schuldich yawned conspicuously and grabbed his lover's ass once they had gone.  
::Am I supposed to say something cloying about them growing up fast, 'cause I 
sure as hell don't feel like it.  But I didn't get my goodbye kiss! From either of 
them!::

(OOC: You are Angelique to-day! Please, for mommy? Yes, I love you! I love 
you! Goodbye, my little puppy.)

***

As for who did get a kiss, it was Nagi once Savil was sure that none of the maids 
were looking, and that her shields were up so her brother wouldn't listen in.

***

Kimberly John Vicksburg, a/k/a Lord Vyx, awoke some time between five 
and six that morning despite having not retired until it was 
substantially past one. He hadn't slept properly, or how other people 
regarded properly, in nearly five years. He guessed to himself, and 
sometimes in the company of what living people claimed to know him 
well (sometimes the dead, for there were so many of them and they 
never asked him to be quiet) that his body had grown tired of 
sleeping and so would not let him rest while there remained days for 
him to see.

He read Forster by the first swells of sparrow bubblings and gliding 
ghosts of light which ignored the glass panes in his windows. Proper 
illumination be damned! If his eyes were going to go bad, they would 
have done it by now. So the sun came up, and the street out front 
began to resonate just softly with the footsteps and the carriage 
clops of an early day. The rabbits in the warren he could see from the back porch 
came out and had dew with their clover in the cool shade of his more-or-less 
white picket fence.

And they did it quite rapidly he feared, seeming to know that it was 
the third regular day, and so they were destined to be frightened off 
by the maid, who had made coffee, and thought better of interrupting her 
employers latest foray into Maurice. Veronica pranced out past the shed in her 
overalls and descended upon the weeds with whistles and with spades. He fixed 
himself some coffee and his behind the curtain to watch her.

Ah, it had been a dreadful pain convincing the mages to let him bring 
her in from Antiterra- the little stranded Celtic maid he had found 
in a Murano hostel of all places, but worth it, and not only for the 
rights he had earned to brag to all his favorite mossy tombstones 
about it. 

She really was good company, a good reminder of his last time back 
under the star he had come from. And she could lift the baby birds 
back to their nests when they fell, pick pig ears for the rabbits, 
and remind him whose still body and flowers he had forgotten to visit 
lately. All the things age had put below or above his contrary back.

They didn't even have to talk any day to be friends. And so they 
didn't. He guessed she'd leave the place after he died rather than 
roam in fruitless gardens of those who could be looked over but not 
loved. For some reason, it pleased him to think of his house as empty 
and cradled by cobwebs.

So, if he wasn't thinking about what to wear, that was usually his 
preoccupation.

Then he realized he hadn't gotten dressed OR attended to his latest 
quest! Oh yes, that boy with the purple eyes who wouldn't tell him 
his name. It would be lunch time before Mistress Claire would permit 
him to visit the lad, so he took his time primping himself. Bathed 
in the old clawfoot tub downstairs that seemed to leak from a 
different spot every time anyone got in it. Laid naked on one of his 
bed and air-dryed so he could skip the cologne and smell like the 
morning instead. 

That done, he put on a shirt of randomly patched together pieces of 
chiffon and silk- plum to match his royal violet suit which was made 
of some light synthetic with a name he could not pronounce and would not let him 
sweat underneath come the humid Valdemar summers. The buttons took forever 
to do because they were too large for their holes, the lining of which kept 
snagging on their textured faces, all in different ways, since after all, no two of 
said buttons were exactly alike. No socks went under his black Italian leather 
loafers, but he had a ring of citrine and purple peacock ore to weight down his 
right hand and a chain of sea-green turquoise rosary beads he thought looked 
dandy against his otherwise mauve self. 

Downstairs, Veronica had begun to play her violin pizzicato, and a 
handful of mockingbirds ceased their quarrel over some peach 
fragments she had left for them and joined in, since she had been 
playing there long enough for them to learn to mimic her tones, even 
some of her more complicated Victorian waltzes that she played.

He came down and danced around her. She paused only to adjust the 
frays of his collar, and then she danced too, without missing a 
single note. Before he left, she pulled and orchid from the vase and 
sent would not send it away until it was perched behind his left ear.

They hadn't said one word. He grabbed his walking stick, went out the back door 
and walked around to the front fa‡ade, smiling at the worn features of his abode 
the town was left with. They still waved to him, a few who remembered his name 
but not anything about it.

And he was glad for that.

At least until he got to the still unopened Claire's and found a 
crowd had gathered around the window. One he was forced to blend 
into or else not slither through after a chance to get inside before 
the attendants became flustered by the rush of patrons.

"I hear they've got a guy working here now!" a lithe little kept boy 
in full silver drag remarked to his master, who smiled and clapped 
appreciatively.

"So finally! We'll have something to look at while we eat our ice 
cream."

"I hear he's foreign too!" one of the former Villa workers absently 
suggested while counting out his change, not seeming satisfied with 
the content of his purse.

"Well," the kept boy began again, "My herald, who's the friend of one 
of the girls who used to be a herald and works here now, told me he's 
gothic!"

"Is that so...?" Lord Vyx mused, pretending to believe the line.

"Oh!" a few of the waiting patrons here, but the former whore who 
spoke at last- "You like that sort of thing in boys?"

"Well, not really. I'm a three guy kinda guy with three guys I'm afraid."

"Aww!" then to himself- "That sure felt like a sale!" 

"Well," the keeper of the boy in drag decided for all of them, "I 
think it's cute in this day and age. Ooh! They're opening! Come 
along, Serge."

So Lord Vyx didn't go in right away, he let them pass, for one reason 
or another, probably just to watch their bottoms sway under each 
other's hands. Everyone who had been standing outside in a line, now 
stood in a line against the counter, fogging up the chill glass with 
their breaths as they leaned this way and that, trying to read the 
flavors of the day, or at worst, make out the sweets floating in the 
frozen cream.

And there behind the almond crŠme de cocoa ripple was the boy he had 
seen before, dispassionately coaxing the ice cream into orbs and 
plopping them down on their crispy perches without so much as smile. 

He sauntered into the shop the moment a spot had cleared before the 
boy, and leaned on the counter, cheeks cupped in his hands.

"Good morning! I've been waiting since yesterday just like you asked, 
so now may I pretty-please have your name with my Butterscotch VSOP?"

***

Ran didn't even look up at him, merely continued plowing his scoop in 
a circular fashion through a container of Boysenberry Banana Swirl. 
Plopped it deftly on a sugar waffle cone atop another such orb and 
handed it to a giggling boy who had his long red hair in plaits. Ran 
gave HIM a second look, then dropped the scoop into the trough of hot 
water which rimmed the cases. Picked up a clean one, and moved down 
to the case where the Butterscotch VSOP resided. 

He performed the same trick he'd done for most of the morning, then 
handed the cone to Lord Vyx with bad grace. 

"There's your ice cream, but I'm damned if I'll give you my name."

He reached over and slammed the case's window shut. "I don't know 
what your game is, but I'm not interested. I already have someone--
whom I'll never cheat on." 

"That'll be $3.25," he added, twitching his head at the pretty, raven 
haired girl who stood at the register. "You can pay Genevieve." 

With that, Ran moved on to the next customer, not granting Lord Vyx 
so much as another peep of his simmering violet eyes. 

***

Lord Vyx looked down upon his ice cream cone as if he had been handed not 
simply the wrong flavor, but rather a screw driver or a scepter belonging to some 
spirit of the underworld; either while still expecting ice cream.

And then he gave Ran much the same sort of look.

And wailed right there in the middle of Claire's.  "Wait! Wait! You don't 
understand! I didn't mean anything by it! I'm just a silly old man! Oh goodness 
gracious, haven't I flubbed up! Mother of all lambs! I'm old enough to be your 
grandfather, you didn't seriously think..."

A glare as long and dark as a moonless night informed him the boy did seriously 
think indeed.

Outside, a bike chimed, a horse whinnied. Two old friends yelled at each other 
from opposite sides of the street.  Something hissed in one of the back room and 
stirred up a confection of colorful names for a particular steel drum.

Lord Vyx went crimson as the red velvet cake cream cheese surprise.

"Shit," he said quite plainly, then coughed, and daintily nibbled his cone, not 
bothering to move away from the counter at first.

Before being forcibly relocated that was.  "Do you MIND!?" he snapped a good 
deal more softly at the encroacher in question.

Schuldich paid him no attention, just seated himself on the counter and waved at 
Ran.  "Ohayo A~Ya~-Cha~n! What do you recommend to-day?"

*** 

Ran, who'd just finished topping off a double dip cup of Chambord 
sherbet with bittersweet chocolate shavings, leveled a look that 
would have curdled milk at the redhead. He passed the treat to the 
waiting customer, a willowy young herald who had shaved her head and 
spoke in a upper class British accent. What she lacked in tresses, 
she made up for in jewelry. 

And alas, she garnered more oohs and ahhs from the other clientele 
(for she was quite striking) than she did stares from Ran. Said 
surly swordsman was too busy wishing he had his katana. Or at least 
the meat cleaver. Unfortunately, Claire had extricated it from the 
wall some time ago, and had taken it back to her office. 

"What do I recommend?" he asked, holding the scoop as if he were 
poised to hurl it at Schuldich. "I recommend you get your ass off 
the counter, and yourself the fuck out of here altogether." 

/Oh, don't think I won't try it, you bastard./ 

He looked vainly around for another customer, but Lord Vyx and his 
nemesis were the only ones. Even Elspeth and Genevieve had abandoned 
him, having chosen to huddle in one corner and watch the 
proceedings. And with a great deal of amusement at that. 

Ran looked over at Schuldich again, and got another sunny smile for 
his trouble. It was all he could do not to lunge over the counter 
and throttle him. 

"Get. OUT!" he hissed. 

***

"But I just wanted some ice cream," Schuldich didn't even whine, or tint his 
words with anything close to condescending.  He sounded, in fact, quite naturally 
reasonable.  "And since this happens to be the best place in all of Terra to come 
for ice cream... well... here I am.  But you're right, the counter isn't very 
comfortable."

Saying so, he dismounted with a sexy slither which upset the boundaries of the 
scarf which he had tied about his head in a fashion more becoming of a gypsy.  
His hands he planted on the counter, stiffening the fine muscles of his arms 
beneath his pale skin.  Not to mention that the angle put his ass squarely in midair, 
though rather facing Lord Vyx.

"Imagine! Going out without any underwear on! Kids these days!" he sighed, and 
all to himself, so it was quite doubtful anyone had heard.  

Except for Schuldich, who scratched his calf with the toes of his opposite foot and 
snapped, "Oh shut up, old man." Then it was all back to drawing lop-sided circles 
around the images of ravaged sugar cream the counter kept his fingers out of, 
though so content and so dreamy did he look, it seemed as if he was in fact 
dipping his digits in after tastes.

"I think I'll have... cherry mocha whip.  On a pretzel cone.  Two scoops!"

And a big, innocent, kitty grin up at Ran.  "Unless you think I'd like something 
else better? You know I'm always up for what you like."

But he made quite a face then, as Lord Vyx felt compelled to reach over and pull 
his bunched up shirt down over his bottom, before looking away and once again 
focusing contemplatively on his own treat as if he hadn't done a thing wrong.

***

Lord Vyx's gesture wasn't lost on Ran, and under different 
circumstances he might have smiled--but as it was, he remained as 
stone-faced as ever. Although...for an instant, the anger drained 
away to the hidden recesses of his fractured soul. He contemplated 
the older man with the same intenseness as Lord Vyx was his dessert. 

And then, in a blink, the poisonous emotion returned. 

"I'd like it if you were dead. I'd like very much. Does this mean 
that you'll finally oblige me?" 

There was a pause where Schuldich pretended to consider Ran's 
question, and then he grinned most slyly. 

/I didn't think so./ 

He slammed the scoop into the trough. "I will NOT serve you. One of 
them will have to do it," he spat, waving a hand at his onlooking co-
workers. 

"What if we say no?" Genevieve piped up. 

"Then I guess he'll go without, and if SHE finds out, she'll raise 
hell. Might even fire us. I wouldn't care. It doesn't matter to me 
where I work, so long as I have a job. I don't know about YOU 
though." 

The two girls exchanged fretful looks at that, and then Genevieve 
broke away to serve Schuldich his treat. Elspeth crossed over to 
where Ran was. 

"Where do you get off ordering us around? We've been here longer 
than you. We have seniority." 

"I don't care if you've been here since you were able to walk. I 
won't serve him."

"Won't serve who? What's going on out here?"

Claire had joined them. Ran turned away and, tearing off some paper 
towels from the dispenser over the handwashing sink, took up a bottle 
of disinfectant cleaner from under the sink and went off to clean those 
tables that had been vacated. He fancied all their eyes trained upon 
him, but he didn't look up at all as he began to wipe down the first 
table. 

Except at Lord Vyx, and even then very briefly. 

Behind the counter, at Claire's strong urging, Elspeth related just 
what had happened. Everything from that corner got deathly quiet 
when she finished, and then...

"You. Boy. Put up that cleaner, take off your apron, and go on a 
break."

"And YOU," she continued, aiming her comments at Schuldich. "I don't 
know what's going on between the two of you, and I don't care. You 
want to come in for ice cream, fine. But I WON'T stand for you 
harassing my help. Got that?!" 

Without waiting for an answer, she stalked off to the back again. 
Genevieve handed Schuldich his ice cream. Ran walked back to the 
hand sink and put up the cleaner; hung up his apron. 

Then he walked back around the counter, only to pause when he came up 
alongside Lord Vyx. He studied him for a long moment. 

Then he leaned a bit closer and said quietly, "My name is Ran."

***

Schuldich thanked Elspeth, told her to keep the change from his twenty. 
Considered asking her to visit him at the hotel some night of her choosing, 
remembered he would be the subject of months worth of gossip if he showed up 
with anyone of the opposite sex, and so put what little judicious fibers within his 
being to use and simply winked at her before puttering out the door. 

Not to mention arranging for Claire to walk into a pile of metal churns for the ice 
cream vats, which collapsed, and clanked into a messy, gooey, shiny pile, which 
protruded somewhat from the back room.

/Bitch./

And then, as he righted his bike and set of trundling it down the street, /But this is 
still really good ice cream.  I'll be damned, I think it's got real coffee in it./

A long, unabashedly sensuous "mmmmmmm" escaped him and caught the 
attention of several passing nobles.  He took the cutest of the bunch and coaxed 
him over with his encircling scarves of nonexistent silk.

"Don't you look happy for being out of work!" the chap said with a glimmering 
smile.

"I was just at Claire's, of COURSE I'm happy." /And you're really getting off on 
cheating on those two, aren'tcha.  That makes me happy TOOOOO!/

/Here's one time to be glad I'm the only telepath around./

::Says who?::

::Shuttup! I'm trying to score here!::

::Whatever.::

::Kiss my ass.::

Thinking so, he convinced the encroaching mind reader that the ground beneath 
her had started to shake, and that the most dignified thing to do in such a situation 
was to go sprawling over her own two feet, grab the skirt of the herald walking 
before her and thereby rip it off in public revealing that Schuldich was not the 
only one who had gone without undergarments that smoky, summer day.

Despite of the ensuing racket, he beamed up at the gentleman, and finally finished 
his sentence.  "And who says I'm out of work?" A question he obviously had no 
intention of answering himself, for he hid his lips in his ice cream, mouthing it as 
gently as another mouth, from which he returned from with a little pinkish 
smudge on the end of his nose.  

"No one,"  The gentleman said, bending close to him and licking the melted 
cream away, "In fact, I think I'd like to help you with your job, if I may."

"Mmm... sounds..." A click of his lips, which were red from the cold of his 
dessert.  "Interesting.  Just one condition." Which he fished for by twining one of 
his fingers in the loose ends of the leather thing which held his solicitor's shirt.

"Oh?"

They were close now, close enough to both feel the cold aura of the ice cream 
between the mutual heat of their gazes. 

The telepath, at least, the telepath who was not fending off a purse at that 
moment, smiled cutely and batted his huge, puppyish green eyes.  "Lemme finish 
my ice cream, please!"

"Uh... sure..."

***  

Vyx was tickled, but in what polish his age had instilled him with, he managed to 
convert his girlish giggles to a wide-eyed and appreciative smile, for he had just 
been about to leave Claire's latest victim, letting bygones be bygones and 
redhead's to their own devices.  Instead, he found himself in one of the few 
situations where he got to really, truly be Sheer Lord Vyx.

Unto Ran he made a sweeping bow, one which he indulged in without so much as 
loosing a single drip from his ice cream.  Even if his back creaked loudly, which 
didn't exactly do anything for the effect, and he was obliged to use his walking 
stick to right himself again, it only gave him the opportunity to twirl it a bit 
between his free fingers as if it were an oversized baton.  

"I shan't even tell the old dog, I assure you," This in a low but casual whisper.  
"And I really am VERY pleased to meet you.  Forgive me for not saying so when 
last we met.  At any rate," and here his voice came up to a more normal 
conversational volume, though not one too easily overheard, "Would you grant 
this old fop the pleasure of taking up your break time? I'm NOT going to pry 
about what that damned, accursed 43 wanted with you."

***

"All right." 

Ran quirked a questioning brow at his use of the term "43," 
but didn't comment upon it. Instead, he gave Lord Vyx a curt nod, 
and headed towards the most private table in the place--one which was 
tucked in the corner by the window, far apart from the rest. 

No sign of Schuldich offended his eyes through the tinted glass, so 
Ran allowed himself to relax a little, and take in his companion. 
Lord Vyx was nibbling with delight at his cone now, much less 
burdened--or so Ran thought. The redhead also noticed at last the 
varying shades of purple in which he had clothed himself. The 
significance of his decision wasn't lost on Ran, and he felt slightly 
put out. He tried to pretend otherwise. 

/Strange old man. Why the hell is he so taken with me?/

Ran got up to get himself a cup of water, and then, when he returned, 
asked, "Are you really a lord?"

***

Vyx shook his head, "No, no, I'm afraid not.  Well, not the way you're thinking 
of at least." An almost embarrassed little grin crossed his lips before he paused a 
moment to lap along the inside of his cone.  "But there AREN'T any lords like 
that on Terra.  It's only a matter of managing to pull off calling yourself one, 
which if you want to know the truth, I probably shouldn't be one any longer since 
I haven't got anyone around that calls me that, save for the mistress here and a 
few of the more obliging girls."

"That's only because -owwwwwww!- you give me that damn smart ass pout of 
yours if I don't call you that!" Claire insisted even from the bowels of her freezer.

"I wasn't talking to you, madam, and what's more I am pouting at this moment 
because you have show the audacity to listen in on my conversation."

"Do you want me to pull that fruity hat of yours down over your shoulders?"

"I'm not wearing it, love!"

"Oh... well damn." This spoken just beside their table, for the lady in question 
had just emerged from her icy realm with a little more than her usual limp, and 
stood beside her customer a moment.  They grinned wickedly to each other and 
she gave him a noogie before heading off to inspect the freezer case.  

To which he reacted by shaking his fist at her then burying his fingers in his 
pewter locks  to straighten them the moment she had turned. 

"Anyway... where was I now... something about that Lady Jes-... no, that was 
yesterday.  Oh yes! You don't have to call me that.  Lord Vyx.  It's just a 
nickname my Louis gave me.  Just Vyx is fine.  Or Kim if you want.  And as for 
Louis..."

Here, after a rather large bite of his cone, he leaned his cheek against one of his 
gloves.  "He's the reason it's ever so nice to know I'm not the only one around 
here who doesn't go in for threesomes and husband swapping."

*** 

Ran nodded slowly, his gaze wandering off in the direction of the 
window. "I know what you mean," he began in a wistful tone, only to 
shake his bangs out of his eyes as he glanced back over at his 
companion. "Not about the threesomes and husband swapping, but about 
having someone. I don't even want to know about those other things."

Ran grew decidedly quiet, lowered his eyes to the table and listened 
to Lord Vyx munch away at his cone. He suddenly wished Ken would 
walk in out of the blue for a visit, for he missed him a little. 
Okay, more than a little. He never realized before how much he would 
miss Ken if the situation became such that they would have to work 
apart. 

Of course, now he knew. He knew a lot things, which opened up even 
more questions on situations he wasn't so certain of. But now was 
not the time to be brooding upon them; his guest was clearly starting 
to wonder about his seeming disinterest in conversing. 

So, Ran plunged ahead. 

"If I'm not prying, how long have you and Louis been together?" 

*** 

To this, Ran got a momentary gesture of a raised hand, for Lord Vyx's mouth was 
rather full, and said hand empty.  But he licked his lips, simply because they were 
a bit caramelized from the last of his ice cream, and answered then in a quiet but 
luminous tone, fond as could be.

"Well, you're about twenty, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"Since I was about your age then, which you can imagine how long ago that was.  
Why, Louis and I lived here when the Villa was new the first time, and this place 
was considered a city! Well... maybe not exactly, more like... the heart of this 
world.  Ah, don't mind me, going off on tangents about things that might never 
have been again."

At which he sighed a happy sigh and glanced out the window to the street, 
beckoning for his companion to do the same.  So they both watched, one seeing 
the present street and one the same street as it had once been in the glory days of 
Valdemar.  The morning rather than the afternoon.

As they both gazed, he added, "But we'd known each other for years before that! 
Friends into lovers and so on and so forth.  I don't see anything wrong with that, 
but I'm not even sure how the gossips think about such things any longer.  Back 
to what you said, you're not prying, Ran.  At least not if you answer the same 
question for me..."

***

"Fair enough." 

Ran tore his eyes away from the sunlit street, having tried and 
failed to imagine how it must have looked in Vyx's youth. He had 
thought it was rather grand when he'd first seen it, but now...

He folded his arms and propped them on the table, and bowed his head 
a little, even though Vyx's attention was still on the street when he 
began to speak. "I've known him for a year and a half. I don't think he would have 
called us friends. I know I wouldn't have. I thought I was 
above all that, then." Ran lifted his head a little and found his 
companion watching him. 

"Anyway, we were co-workers, lived in apartments over the shop--it 
was a florist's. We fought often--we fought when we first met, in 
fact--and usually, I didn't make a point of socializing with him. 
And yet...I don't know. It was so gradual. My feelings for him 
changed, but I didn't know how strongly I felt until I realized he 
was going to go away. I didn't know where he was going, but I asked 
to come with him anyway. I...uh...couldn't stand the thought of 
being separated from him." 

Ran swallowed nervously, painfully aware of the fact he'd just 
revealed a bit of his soul to a stranger. Funny thing was, Lord Vyx 
didn't seem the least bit perturbed by his confession. It did much 
to hearten the redhead's spirit. 

"The Villa--I had heard it was a...a brothel," he began, murmuring 
the last word. "Had it always been like that?"

***

Lord Vyx only nodded at first, seeking an initial reaction and nothing more.  He 
was finding words a little unhappy with him at the moment, trying to imagine just 
what it could possibly be like- coming to Terra and not knowing where one would 
end up.  Simply being that smitten as to follow someone literally to the ends of 
the earth.

/I would have though.  For Louis./

/Well, it's not exactly any wonder then.../

And he hadn't seen anyone go glum over the mention of their being legal brothels 
on Terra... well, not since the late 70's on earth for sure.  But that might have 
been but a ghost gimbling in among his memories, short to head off and make 
daydreams and nightmares of another moment.  

"Yes, all the Villa's are like that, it's the whole purpose for their being.  It's just 
what they do here.  I suppose.  I never cared much for them, obviously.  Though I 
can't say I've never been in one."

With the utmost care for his movements, he leaned across the table, close enough 
for the lowest of his whispers.  "You're not one of the fancy boys they just fired, 
are you? You're the new Dono's lover.  I have to say, Ran, I couldn't take it, 
doing what you are.  Going out into a strange place knowing nothing of the rules 
except that you're breaking them in someone's mind.  And I won't make that 
worse for you; I won't tell a soul."

He had quite a serious look on his face when he pulled away though, not so much 
as a hint of a knowing smile.  

"Just tell me, what do you think of the windows in the back of the lobby?"

***  

"I think...they're one of the best features of the place. Those 
windows, and the garden. I think the garden is...lovely." 

Ran's voice died away to nothing as he leaned back in his chair, and 
just stared at him, utterly bewildered. He hadn't expected anyone to 
guess, but he was glad in a way that someone had. It was too much of 
a secret to hold silent. Not that he was ashamed that Ken was his 
lover, but...he couldn't bear the thought of all the questions and 
gossip and speculation he would face if it became common knowledge. 

Couldn't bear the thought of any of it reaching Ken--that bothered 
him the most. 

But it wasn't the only thing that did...

Vyx was right. Ran so much wanted to tell him just how much he was; 
wanted...and this shocked him...to tell him everything. Something 
about the man made him want to open up to him. Unfortunately, 
though, a glance at the clock showed he was out of time. Since he 
wasn't one to be late, with an air of regret, he got to his feet, and 
bowed low. 

"Domo arigatou, Vyx-san. I hope we might talk together again." 

***

Lord Vyx here also rose to his feet, and bowed as well, in European fashion 
though, rather that Japanese.  It crossed his mind the girls ought to be glad to have 
seen both sorts in one day.  If they were indeed paying attention.  Ah, to hell with 
them for now.

"Why, you're most welcome, Watashi-no-claire-tachi-shonen.  And I should be 
honored to speak with you again some time.  You shan't mind me dropping in 
again tomorrow? Would you? I do usually come in every day."

Ran shook his head.

"Ah, you're too kind.  I shall see you then! I hope you have a wonderful day, you 
and kimi-no-aijin.  Until then, Adieu!"

Saying so, he swept himself out the door and went down the street in a purple 
streak, presumably whistling to himself.

Claire then, Ann and Elspeth in tow, shortly appeared behind her latest hire-ee, 
clicking her tongue in her ear as she shook her head.

"You know, I've seen some PRETTY strange things in my day but YOU of all of 
them take the damn cake.  43's all over you, friendly with that addlepated Vyx, 
quiet as a mouse unless you're shouting.  I tell ya!"

And she too whirled away, "Glad to have you aboard.  But speaking of cake, no 
more counter time for you! Time you learned how to work the crank on the main 
vat so you can get started on the birthday cake violet white chip!"

Tugging him along with one hand and rubbing her hip with the other, she 
muttered to herself, "Didn't know that old loon spoke Japanese! Makes me wish I 
did!"

(OOC: Watashi-no-claire-tachi-shonen- My-Claire-gang-boy

kimi-no-aijin, while technically read as "your lover" [literally, your love-person] 
would here have the nuance of "your husband".)

***

Crawford too, had ventured forth from the hotel room, lured much as 
his lover had been by the brilliant blue of the sky, and the promise 
of adventure. That his adventure would be far more sedate than his 
lover's was beside the point. Crawford was up for it all the same.

The course he'd chosen to follow took him away from the newer (50 
years old) parts of Valdemar, the more common he'd deemed 
them, and into the older. Buildings and homes that had been around 
for a 100 years or more stood there. It was near this part that his 
new home lay, well past where civilization began to thin out in favor 
of nature. 

And it was here where he'd seen himself strolling into Wickham's 
Antiques. 

Now, Crawford wasn't much for antiques, not really--more new 
furniture done in old styles. So this was a novelty for him, and 
from the reaction of the proprietor, a tall, caped man with a 
monocle, it was a novelty for him as well. 

"Good day, sir. May I help you."

"Yes, actually you may. I am in the market for certain items, which 
I heard you carry." 

"Oh? Such as?" 

"Well..." he began, strolling casually around a round table which was 
laden with all manner of decorative objects. He carefully picked up 
a Royal Doulton statuette of a shepherdess, and performed a seemingly 
idle inspection of it. Found it to be, according to the markings on 
its base--among other clues--late 19th century. Crawford brushed a 
finger carefully over her fragile, pale face, her tumble of inky 
curls. 

/Ah, you take me back, shepherdess.../

"I would like to have her, for a start," he said, carrying her over 
and placing her into the proprietor's tender hands. 

"Very good, sir." 

Crawford moved further into the room, making a beeline for his 
selection of antique clothes, which he kept stored in a room where 
the lighting and temperature were regulated. The best conditions, 
really, for some were quite old. 

However, what he wanted to buy was not. Crawford flipped through one 
rack, twice, three times, and then he had it: A white poet's shirt, 
a below-the-hip tunic style with a string lace neck, and Venetian 
lace edging its cuffs. This he passed to Mr. Wickham, then he moved 
off upstairs, alone. 

He came back with a silver candlelabra--the base and arms of which 
had been fashioned to resemble a tree and its branches. To that, he 
added a large, yellow, pansy-peppered enamel box of no real value or 
interest--except that it had a secret, hard-to-breach compartment--
and a necklace. A dainty little three strand, amethyst, emerald and 
yellow topaz choker, the stones all square cut. For the last he 
requested gift wrapping--something with flowers. The shirt, that it 
simply be boxed and ribbon tied. 

"Very good, sir. How would you like the rest of your purchases 
packaged?"

"The...box you may simply wrap. I'll take it with me. The 
candlelabra and the figurine, I want well-wrapped and sent to this 
address." He took a pen and paper and scribbled his name and the 
name of the church. "I will be moving in within the next two days. 
For now, I am staying at the hotel. " 

Mr. Wickham nodded. "You can count on me, sir."

At that, Crawford smiled. "I know." He paid the man, gathered his 
purchases, and nodded his farewell, and then swept out of the shop. 

***

At 5:21 p.m., Bradley Crawford's life would change forever.

Of course, while he had seen it in his mind's eye, he didn't know exactly when 
5:21 p.m. would come, as he was currently lying in the basement, in the dark.  
Curled up on his side on a urine stained mat and hurting.  His father had been 
thorough this time.  Very thorough.  Brad still burned with shame and rage at the 
memory--useless rage, for he couldn't even sit up without his head pounding, and 
so attempting retaliation then was pointless. His father had vowed to beat the 
visions from his head; funny thing was, however, he seemed to be having them 
even more as a result.  Like he'd jarred some block to his premonitions free, and 
further opened his channel to the future.

Whether that was true or not, he didn't know.  Perhaps, he never...

"...No..." he rasped.  "...I can't...start thinking like...like that..."

/I could die here, but I.../

::Won't::

Crawford cracked open his eyes and peered into the gloom, unsure if he'd heard 
that accented voice solely in his head.  "...You here?"

::Not yet.  Soon, Crawford.  Now, sit up.::

"...I..."

::Come on, boy.  It's almost time for your destiny to be realized.::

That roused him, but it was a slow process, rising.  Yet, the boy did it, rolling onto 
his knees, then resting; rocking back onto his heels, then resting again.  Through 
that laborious method, he managed to get his rent and bloodied clothes back on 
his shivering, battered body, and managed to get himself onto his feet with the 
help of a supporting pole.

::That's a good lad.::

He stayed put, leaning heavily on the pole and panting hard from the
exertion.  /What time is it?/

::It is now 4:51 pm, Crawford.  My car has just turned down your street.::

/Yes./  Crawford drew himself up to his full height, and moved away from the 
pole, willing the pain away.  Damned if his father was going to come down stairs 
and find him broken and sobbing--not that he was the sort to cry; he hadn't even 
begged his father for mercy during the whole of the rape.  For that, he was quite 
proud of himself, even though his father had redoubled his efforts to make him 
plead by beating him so savagely during and after.

But all that didn't matter now.  He was about to be set free, and retribution would 
be delivered before he flew away.

***

Crawford didn't know how long he had waited, only that he had dropped off, for 
the next thing he was conscious of happening, his father emerged from the warm 
coziness of above into his son's hell.  Without a word, he gripped the boy by the 
scruff of the neck and dragged him up the stairs.

"Here he is."

Mercilessly he was shoved forward, and wound up on his knees on the carpet as 
his legs weren't quite ready to support his weight.  Every injury he'd been dealt 
pained him afresh, and he bit his lip to keep from making any noise. He was NOT 
going to let his father have the satisfaction.

But he couldn't keep still for long, for in the next heartbeat came the voice he'd 
once only heard in his mind.

"Whatever has happened to him?"

It was clear and English, and terribly cultured.  Spoke of manor halls and 
afternoon tea at the Ritz and Savile Row.  Crawford tilted his head upward at last 
to gaze upon his benefactor with nearsighted, aching eyes, and found a man in his 
early forties, well-built and well turned out.  His hair was as onyx touched with 
silver, and his eyes were black, and held a measure of kindness in them whenever 
they lit upon Brad.

"Oh...He got into a fight with some boys at school."

There was a rustle of clothing, and his shadow fell across him.  The newcomer 
reached out for his hurt arm, but didn't quite touch it.  "It looks like...his arm is 
broken."

"Uh...Yeah, well, he's not much of a fighter."

"And so...Because he isn't, you didn't see fit to have him treated?"

Crawford's father only spluttered, and glared.  Brad caught a trace of hatred pass 
from the Englishman's ebon eyes to the eldest Crawford.

"Nevermind.  I'm not here to criticize you upon your lack of regard for your own 
son.  I am here to make you an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yes.  As I told your wife the night before, I am in the business of seeking out 
new specimens for the institute for which I work.  Your son is of great interest to 
us."

"Why?"

"Well, because of his abilities, of course."

"Abilities?"  Crawford Sr. scoffed.  "He hasn't any--"

"Forgive me, sir, but word travels fast when the news is interesting."

Crawford's father made no comment to that, and so Anstruther continued.

"I am prepared to pay you a great sum of money.  In cash."

He perked up at that.  "How much money?"

"Hmm...say, $100,000 American?  It is all my company authorized me to pay."

The couple's eyes goggled at his stated sum.  "$100,000 bucks for HIM?"

"Of course."

"And...What's the catch?"

"No catch.  You sign some adoption papers, naming me as his guardian--just a 
formality.  I pay you, and take the boy.  You'll never be bothered with him again."

The couple exchanged glances, questioning, debating, and then submissing. 
Crawford's father rose to his feet, hand outstretched, which Anstruther took. 
"You've got a deal."

He gave his son a cruel, gloating smile.

"Ah, splendid."  Anstruther picked up the black flight case he'd brought and laid it 
on the coffee table to open it.  From its depths, he produced a leather folder 
containing two sheets of paper and a pen.   "If you'll just sign here, and here, I'll 
give you the money, and take him off your hands."

The avarice latent in their hearts was awakened, and shone wickedly in their eyes, 
in the way their hands shook as they signed the document.

"Now, give us our payment," his father said as he passed the document back to 
him.  Anstruther checked the document for their signatures, and then added his 
own in the appropriate place.

"Certainly."  He opened the flight case again, and lay the document back inside its 
folder, and then withdrew a silencer-capped revolver.  Coolly, he shot them both 
before either'd had time to react.  She lay slumped in her chair, blood from the 
fresh carved cavity in her chest soaking its yellow-green cushions, the needlepoint 
on her lap.  Her needle was still clasped in her hand.  He had fallen upon the floor 
at Crawford's feet, eyes wide and staring and fearful.  A sizable chunk of his skull 
had been torn away.

Brad spit upon his corpse.

"Now, now.  No need to be vulgar."

The boy tore his eyes away from the carnage to gaze upon his rescuer.
"What's your name?"

"Philip Anstruther.  But Anstruther will do."

At that, Crawford smiled weakly.  "What happens next?"

"Well..." Ansthuther placed the gun  back inside the flight case and zipped it shut.  
"We gather up what things you want to take, and then we leave."

"I don't want to take anything."

"Then I guess we cut to the chase, so to speak."  Anstruther slung the case over 
his shoulder, and crossed over to where Crawford stood, coming to rest right in 
front of him.

"Sleep, Crawford."

Anstruther tapped him gently on the forehead, and the boy fell into a dead faint in 
his arms.  His benefactor scooped him up, and headed for the door. No one would 
see them depart, no one would know what happened until weeks later.

And then, of course, it would no longer matter.

***

When he awoke, Crawford found he'd changed venue altogether.   He was on a 
cot, just coming out of a painkiller-induced sleep; all his fractures had been set, 
injuries tended.  A glucose iv dangled from his arm.  A hushed feminine voice 
uttered, "Have that arm checked again when you arrive."  A flicker of white 
disappeared through a pair of green curtains.  Crawford glimpsed the back of a 
seat before they flipped closed.

Though he'd never been on an airplane in his life, he knew he was on one now.

"Tell me where we're going," he mumbled, knowing someone was there to hear 
him, even though he'd yet to see anyone.  "I want to hear you say it."

"We're going to England, to a school for children who are gifted like
yourself--though not all are clairvoyant as you are.  It's in the country.  Acres and 
acres of forests and fields to roam in, and nothing but clean air to breathe."

"...Go on..."

"You'll have what you want.  A room overlooking the grounds, and all to
yourself.  A grand piano and a maestro to teach you; it's not too late to learn.  
Food and clothing.  The finest education, both collegiate and psychic.  We can 
teach you how to control your power.  How to still the visions when they get to be 
too much.  How to focus it to see only what you want, and not the random futures 
of strangers.  You want those things, don't you?"

"...Yes."

He wanted a lot of things, and he already knew which of those things he would 
have.

A coterie of his own--lost boys like himself with whom he would wreak havoc 
upon the unloving world they dwelt in.

Money, money, and still more--enough to ensure his days of starvation and 
sleeping out were over forever.

And another redhead to replace the one he'd never really had.

At that last, Crawford smiled--small and wan and weary.

"You really should sleep some more, Crawford," Anstruther's voice sighed from 
the side of his cot, his hand hovering once more above his forehead.  "You won't 
come to any harm here."

"...I know..."

***

"Any dim-bulb can make a sandwich," Fiona protested, crossing her arms and 
refusing to give the kitchen counter any more regard than her peripheral vision.

"Oh, is that so?" Primera gave the girl much the same attention said girl had given 
their work.  Her nails drummed against the toaster, timing how long the bread had 
been submerged within the metal case.  "Well then, how do you make a 
sandwich?"

"You take two pieces of bread and put something between them." 

"You sound awfully self assured."

"And with good cause!"  

"Well," here, the toast decided to emerge prematurely and against the petitions of 
the springs which had failed in the first place, their secretary managed to cram the 
slices back inside.  "I'm sorry but you're wrong.  That's NOT how you make a 
sandwich." 


Which gave rise to worn-out sighs on both of their parts.  "Look, Pri~~~IM! I 
thought Ken..."

"The Hidaka-dono."

"Well, Grumpy Bear's boyfriend, WHATEVER!" She stamped her feet 
impatiently.  "I thought he told ya to show me how to cook."

"He did.  And that's what I'm doing.  You have to start somewhere, now don't 
you?" Here, Primera gave her a big, saucy grin, from which it was not hard to 
guess she was actually quite taken with herself, having been given an instructor's 
position, at least for now, and at least in the kitchen.  

Upstairs, someone whistled gleefully and clapped as another piece of tacky 
furniture took leave of the villa, headed for parts unknown with a bride price of 
better than the asking amount.

The servant's usual miffed ardor vaporized, at least for the time being.  "OK, OK.  
So, what's the almightily, arcane secret of lunchmeat?" 

"Who said anything about getting to the meat yet? First, you have to deal with the 
bread."

Fiona groaned and hung her head, leading her teacher to go on unabated 
otherwise.  "The first thing you always do with a sandwich, is toast the bread 
GDB, unless the person you're making the sandwich for doesn't like toast, which 
hardly ever happens, but you never know.  They don't get soggy as fast if you 
toast them, and it makes more nooks and crannies for sauce.  But don't ever 
forget! You have to let the toast cool before you put the sandwich together, or else 
you get condensation on the plate, and that's not good."

"Cool... toast...?"

"Yes, that's why we have a toast-cooling rack!" At which, the visiting girl waved 
to the windowsill, catching her hand in the curtain as she did so, but NOT against 
any such implement.  A quick inspection of the area revealed a saucer of 
fragmenting lilies and a curious bird on the other side of the screen, but nothing 
more.

"Hah! I knew it! There is no such thing!"

"No, I'm quite sure there is.  And there was one here just the other day.  Oh, 
dearie me.  Well, in the event that you don't have a rack to cool your toast on."

"Say, there is no such thing..."

"Do stop that, dear.  Anyway, you just make little roofs out of the toast like so!" 
A plate she placed before herself then, one which she then decorated with three 
lean-tos of golden-brown flecked white bread, one of which, despite her best 
efforts, refused to stand up.  "OK, and in this situation, you ask someone to hold 
the toast for you.  Fiona, hold the toast.  I'll be right back."

As her skirts bounced through the doorway on her way out, her disinterested pupil 
sighed, and fluttered her sliced of bread like wings.  

As for Primera, she searched the closets, and the cupboards, just in case her 
beloved toast rack had been misplaced, which she rather quickly ascertained it 
had not been, as there were only a few placed a rack substantial enough for ten 
giant slices could hide, none of which were thusly occupied.  Scratching her head, 
she ascended into the computer room.

"Yuriko! Have you seen my toast rack?"

"Toast rack?" Yuriko inquired as she continued her paper sorting.  "I didn't even 
know there was such a thing."

"I haven't seen it either," Ken attested, reaching over and reclaiming one of the 
bill printouts.

"Oh... darn it!" Just then, Primera realized just WHAT those bills had been sorted 
into and drawn out from.

Having dumped all the invaders form her toast rack, she huffed and returned to 
the kitchen.

*****