Part 19- Ran's Birthday I
[Version 1.1]


Morning was nearly over by the time Ran awoke, and judging from the 
feel of the sheets on the empty side of the bed, Ken had risen hours
before him.  He hadn't bothered to straightenthe covers on his half, 
nor had he bothered to pick up the clothes he'd left scattered about 
thenight before; even the doors of his wardrobe stood wide open.  

"What's the big hurry, Ken?" Ran muttered as he climbed out of bed.  
It always irritated him when people didn't take the time to tidy up.  
Though he paused to fumble the sheets and blanketsinto order, he 
had to fight the urge not to sort out his lover's strewn garments 
along with hisown.  

That done, he'd sleepily grabbed his robe off the hook inside his 
wardrobe and headed off to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  The 
tower was utterly silent.  Ran wonderedwhere Ken and Fiona could 
possibly be at that hour; hopefully they weren't roaming around 
Valdemar on some odd errand for Yuriko.  

As he shut the bathroom door behind him, Ran rolled his eyes at the 
thought of what she and her girlfriend had planned for that evening.  

A few minutes later, Ran emerged, his hair combed and breath 
freshened.  From below, he heard 
a faint humming, one which bore the signature of Ken's voice.  A smile 
warmed away the lingeringvestiges of drowsiness from his face, and Ran 
set off to investigate the living room.  

"Ken?  Fiona?"

***

"I'm in here," Ken called, singing-songing even though his mouth 
happened to be full.  Ran padded into the living room, glancing this 
way and that around the corridor behind him as if he didn't quite 
believe there hadn't been anyone else to answer him that morning.  
Indeed, much to Ken's surprise, the absence of any other voices looked 
as if it had quite startled the other boy.

"It's just the two of us."

Well, the two of them, and a few traces of the women who usually roamed 
their halls.  The glass pool in the center of the coffee table was 
filled with moir‚-paper boxes and the little cascades of white, curling 
ribbon that fell from them.  Ken fondled one with his bare toes and 
fluffed the pillows between himself and the armrest.

He had dressed up a little for the occasion, having put on a pair of 
sky blue, rather loose bellbottoms, the flares of which had been opened 
with incursions of white, embroidered silk.  His vest matched, though 
itself, it happened to be lined with great, big, aquamarine glass 
buttons.  A bell-shaped blossom of cerulean rested in a cluster of 
baby's breath behind his right ear.  

Not to mention, that at the moment Ran happened to catch sight of him, 
he was strewn over the couch with his legs crossed and a bowl of 
fresh, wild strawberries in his lap.  There was one in his hand, which 
had already suffered a nibble ringed with the same chappy, shimmer-
laced blue lipstick Ken was wearing.

Ken plopped the dish on the table beside his lover's presents and 
scampered over to him, getting up on his tiptoes to announce, 
"Otanjoubi Omedetto, Ran."

Before he took the collar of his robe in his hands and pulled him down 
for a deep, lush kiss that left his lover's lips, much to his 
amusement, the same color of his own.

***

Ran dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, squinting at 
the resulting sparkly  smudge of blue.  He pursed his lips, smacking 
them lightly.   
 
"You even taste blue. That's going to take some getting used to," he 
admitted, sliding his  hands upwards over Ken's bare arms.  

"I can get used to this outfit,  
though," he added, stepping back a little to look him  
over.  "I've never seen you dressed in something so flashy,  
but... Um.  You look nice."  

Ran moved a bit closer to him, smiling 
gently now as his fingers brushed over the dainty white spray which  
hung over his ear.  He couldn't help but find that odd, even if he  
didn't really mind it so much.   
 
"You didn't have to get me any presents, though." 

***

"I wanted to," Ken said simply, sweeping Ran's fingers up in his own.  
Hand in hand, he led him over to the coffee table, and there stood 
with him, offering one of the strawberries from the bowl he had 
reclaimed.  He pointed to a pair of boxes then to one small like a 
paper jewelry box, the other quite immense and wearing a few 
tight-pressed wrinkles in its facade as if its weight had pressed 
them in while it was being wrapped.  "Those two are from me, and 
the one over there..." here, he pointed to the low, wide package 
leaning against the other two, and wearing a pair of foil wings 
in one corner.  "...'s from Yuriko.  

"Prim said she had somethin' for you, but had to bring it this evening- 
don't worry, I told her not to overdo it -and... speaking of Prim, she's 
taken her sister Paul and Fiona swimmin' at the hotel.  Carly gave Yuri 
the day off, and I finally had enough money to pay the ah... staff, 
so..."  (Ken had been trying to come up with something a little nicer 
to refer to the formal Villa employees with all week, and 'staff' was 
the best he could manage so far.)  "Well, I told 'em they didn't get 
their checks 'less they took the day off."

Saying so, he threw up his free hand and nodded, as if suggesting he 
had done something terribly normal and not worthy of the inscrutable 
oxymoron which was paying people in one's employ *not* to come to work.  

Then of course, he noticed Ran hadn't helped himself to a strawberry, 
and so plucked an especially plump, juicy looking one from the dish, 
and held it up to his lips.  "It's just you an' me 'til six.  Do you 
wanna sit down an shake your presents? See the little-teeny one I got 
for you in the office, or have breakfast?"

***

Wrapping his hand around the back of Ken's to steady it, Ran leaned 
in and bit off the end of the berry he held.  

"Having you all to myself for the rest of the day is the best present 
anyone could give me, so I'll wait until tonight to find out what's 
in the boxes," he said.  "However, since you went out of your way to 
buy me things, I'd like to see what you have for me upstairs.  What 
did you buy for me that you felt you needed to keep private?"  

Ken bent forward as if to whisper in his ear, but impishly tapped 
his index finger to his lips.  

"I see.  Secrets," he said, holding a hand out for him to take.  
"You know how I feel about them."  

Ken took his hand, and the two left the room for the 
stairs.  When they reached the office, he found that all the 
computers were gone.  

"You've cleared them all out.  Does this mean you managed to sell 
everything off?"

***

"More or less," Ken replied, as he walked backwards across the empty 
expanse of floor.  "Enough, how's that? We can get ridda the rest from 
onea the smaller rooms."

The sun blinked behind a puffball cloud that passed over its face, only 
to go drifting away high above the treetops in the end, leaving the 
brightness of the morning once more flooding through the windows.  It 
stood there, naked and unashamed, for no one had bought any drapes yet.  

"So that's what everyone was REALLY doin' last night.  That, and your 
party's not gonna be in the tower! It's gonna be in the lobby"

As if that happened to be the funniest news he'd heard in weeks, Ken 
began to laugh, and dish still in his hand, twirled around on one toe.  
He didn't spill a single berry, but thought he might, and so tucked the 
bowl in one corner before letting himself fall with a loud thump! to 
the ground, where he made a carpet angel on the empty floor before 
getting up, his hair now quite a mess.

***

"You are ridiculous," Ran said, but gently. "I'm glad you find all  
this party business so amusing. One of us should, I suppose.  I had 
thought you'd keep this room as an office, but..." He swept his 
fingers through Ken's bangs. "What do you plan to do  
with this space now?"

***

"Woul I plan on giving it to you to do whatever you want with it!" Ken 
insisted.  "So long as it's somethin' that makes you happy.  We can 
have an office anywhere! But this is your room in your tower."

/I coulda sworn you'd ask if you could have it for Aya-chan but... guess 
that's too much to think about for today, huh?/

Two more strawberries later, neither one of them had answered, and Ken 
was once again giggling for no apparent reason.

"If ya want, you can tell me over breakfast.  I got miso soup, rice, 
ginger-dressing salad and striped sea bass cheeks downstairs waitin' 
for you."

One more strawberry he held between his lips, and lifted to Ran's as he 
rose to his toes, mumbled.  "B'sises whees."

*** 

Ran bit down on the rosy fruit as close to Ken's mouth as he could, 
the tip of Ken's tongue brushing against his lips as he pushed the 
whole of the strawberry away. 

"Ssniikey," Ran lisped around his mouthful of berry, and Ken 
chuckled.  At once he disappeared , and Ran noticed that he'd set 
the dining table: white cloth, white china, linen napkins folded 
into triangles, and tealights scattered about.  A box of matches 
sat waiting by his plate.  Taking Ken's hint Ran started to light 
the tiny candles.  

"Tell me," he began, purposefully steering the conversation away from 
the subject of the newly emptied room. "What sort of mayhem do you 
and Prim-san and Yuriko-san have planned for me tonight?" 

***

Ken nearly dropped the two platters he had balanced on his 
palms- not because Ran's voice startled him, but because he had walked 
smack into the doorjamb.  Luck was with him though, and nothing 
spilled, though he realized at once he had been too quick to run off, 
and as such forgotten half of the candles.  "Well, if the tower's got 
anything to say about it, looks like we'll be pourin' miso soup in your 
lap."

Both trays descended to the table top without further incidence and he 
managed to light the candles only as opposed to anything else.  Ran 
watched him and the pale ripples of waxy light that sprung up among the 
hints of the day come through the open, sighing window.

Speaking of which, a passing gust put several of them out.  Ken swore 
lightly, and hid the lot of them behind the coffee pot once he had them 
lit again.

"Sorry 'bout that.  Me an' candles've never been friends.  Now, about 
later..."

As he spoke, he took each dish from the trays, one by one- Set Ran's in 
a half-circle before him, and his own in more of a clump, just in the 
shadow of the berry dish, which was low, and bright, and so made the 
perfect centerpiece.

"Prim and Yuriko oughtta come back 'round five or six to put the 
decorations up in the lobby... did I say that already? They were REAL 
insistent you NOT go in while they're at it.  After that, the 
heavens'll crumble, time and space'll be reversed, all the flower kami 
might hiccup in unison."

A shrug then that he broke out of long enough to tip his head to his 
lover and offer him his chopsticks (which Ken had misplaced previously 
and just then recovered).  "Hai, dozo."

***

"If the party's going to be in the lobby, then why were they in the 
tower yesterday afternoon, measuring practically every surface in 
sight?"  

Ken shrugged.  Ran watched him dig into his sea bass cheeks, and 
then, with a slight shake of his head, he tucked into his own 
breakfast.  The sea bass cheeks were superb. Ran stared down at his 
plate in happy admiration of his lover's culinary talents.  

"I never expected to have such an extravagant breakfast.  You're 
going to spoil me," Ran said as he reached for his coffee cup.  
"And since you've so strongly warned me against going to the lobby 
after five, then I'll just have to go before then, hm?  And maybe 
you'll come with me?  We can sit in the gazebo and I'll read to you, 
if you like."  

***

Ken nearly dropped his chopsticks.  One of the buds of baby's breath 
got up in his hair did happen to choose that moment to tumble free, and 
land in his soup no less.  But he beamed, a few grains of rice still 
stuck to his lips.

"Aw shucks Ran, it's your birthday..."

To which his lover nodded quite certainly.

"YOSH'! I'd love too!"

Saying so, he clapped as best he could with his hands full, and wiggled 
around in his seat like a child whose parents have just announced the 
family is about to spend all day at the park, except he did manage to 
compose himself after a few moments, and somewhat resume eating, as 
displeased by the presence of the flower in his soup as he might have 
been.

Though the misbehaving blossom did rather give him an idea.

"Will you read to me? Some haiku? It just seems like that kinda day, 
y'know."

***

Ran toyed with his salad thoughtfully. Nodded. "Okay. Haiku it  
is. I'll get the book from my room after breakfast." He tugged at  
the shawl collar of his bathrobe. "Along with some clothes. The  
best I have to wear.  And maybe I'll brew some cherry tea? I found 
some at the  grocer's the other day. It tastes good hot or cold, so 
if we forget  about it...sitting outside on such a lovely day..."  
 
Ran gave him a shy sort of smile.  

***

The prospect of cherry tea had brightened Ken's expression even more, 
and frankly, made him rather antsy. How bruised his lips would be by 
evening.  Would anyone mind?  

And then he remembered.

"Hey, you didn't get a bath last night or one this mornin'!" And then 
with a little wink as he had a sip of his coffee.  "I'll dry you off 
and comb your hair, so no fussin' about it."

***

"So who's fussing?" Ran asked over the rim of his coffee cup. "I 
don't think I could have asked for better treatment--especially on 
today of all days." 

He took a sip, two more bites of fish and rice, and then picked one 
last berry out of the bowl. "But I guess this means you're going to 
be watching me bathe? I had no idea you were such a voyeur, Ken." 

***

Ken’s answer to this was a quick lunge for the berry his lover was 
holding; before Ran had time to do more than murmur in surprise, 
he’d quite devoured the little treat, all of it except for a trace 
of juice on his lips. Even the leaves were gone.

“Just when it comes to you,” he said once he’d swallowed. A wink 
from behind his coffee cup later, and he’d changed tactics; started 
poking at one of Ran’s eartails, though his interest faded all to 
quickly, and rather another strawberry became a victim of his. He 
lifted it from the dish, and held it up before while he winked. No, 
his lover’s hair was actually much redder, though that was the only 
reason he held the crimson droplet out for him to take.


***

But Ran refused it with a shake of his head, and rose smoothly from 
his seat to fall in place by Ken's side.  He got one look of the 
other's bemused blue eyes before leaning down to kiss him, deeply.  

"Delicious," he murmured as he pulled away.  His tongue darted out to 
lick away the last of the strawberry juice from his lips, and he 
kissed him again, quickly, before catching his wrist and snatching 
away the berry between his teeth.  Ran bit it to the cap, which he 
dropped onto his empty breakfast dish.  

"Let's leave the dishes for now.  We can leave them to soak after I 
finish my shower--my open door shower, that is.  I wouldn't want you 
to miss anything."  Ran smoothed Ken's hair from his cheek.  "And who 
am I to deny you your whims?"  

A smile, and Ran stepped away from the table.  Slowly, he undid the 
belt holding his robe closed, turning away as the sides parted.  He 
worked the robe from his body by the collar, drawing it away from his 
neck so the garment slid down his back.  It caught at his elbows, 
where Ran let it hang for a second before shifting his arms so it would 
fall around his feet.  Nimbly, he halfway turned towards Ken, one hand 
outstretched for him to take.  

"Shall we?"  

***

"Sounds good t'me!" He smirked, and with that escorted his lover 
bathroom.  One glance he stole behind himself, and that was only for 
the sake of the robe they had left behind.  A part of him most dearly 
hoped no one would come home to find it there, and a part of him wanted 
nothing less of fate than someone's eyes on the discarded clothing.  
Surely, birthday or no birthday, such a thing couldn't help but be 
taken as proof licentious divertissements. 

Ran pulled out of his arms once the door was locked behind them and set 
to work at once fiddling with the knobs of the shower, flicking his 
hands underneath them now and then as he tested the temperature- the 
pipes might have been relatively silent that morning, but they still 
took their time bringing hot water.  In the mean time, Ken leaned back 
against the wall just across from the glass cover of the shower, and 
whistled.

The other boy gave him one last parting look before alighting under the 
water, where his hair wilted, and the wetness stole down him, tracing 
his svelte likeness all the way down to his ankles, caught here and 
there by the rippling brightness that dapples the glass block ring 
around the ceiling, and sometimes slipped into where Ran was reaching 
for the soap.

Ken realized his face felt hot then.

***

Ran held the gold-and-white-striped bar under the spray until the 
water began to bubble on its surface.  He rubbed his hands over it, 
working up a vigorous lather, which he then began to transfer to his 
damp skin.  Slowly, for he knew Ken was watching him, just by the 
curious prickling of his nerves.  Slowly, he slid his hands down his 
nape, over his shoulders, and, moving away from the jets, turned so 
Ken could clearly see him, yet kept his own eyes averted.  

Ran refreshed the lather coating his palms, and swooped them down his 
chest, stroking his breastbone, teasing his puckering nipples, lightly 
pinching and palming them until he felt his cheeks flush.  He soaped 
a line down his sides to his hips, then swept upwards slightly to 
spread foam over his stomach.  Gingerly, he traced his ribs, the 
hollow marking his stomach, smoothing downward in short waves towards 
his red-thatched groin.  Before he could touch himself there, he 
stepped back under the jets, still half-way facing Ken, and raised 
his arms over his head, stretching hard under the water, pulling his 
muscles taut.  Soap flowed in white ribbons down his lithe body, 
curling around his legs and ankles to the overflow.  

Lowering his arms, Ran cupped his hands under the water, 
and splashed his face, ran his fingers through his streaming locks.  
Taking the washcloth he'd laid out the night before, Ran soaped it up 
then set to work on his newly bloomed erection.  Again, he moved 
slowly, head tipped back a little as he worked the cloth from base 
to crown, once, twice.  Ran swayed a little, biting his lips to 
keep from moaning at all, as he held his sex with his free hand to 
better swipe gently at his testicles and the strip of skin that lay 
behind them.  

His hands were trembling a little when he ran them down his legs, 
petted his ankles.  He turned away from Ken, presenting him with a 
full view of his bottom when he bent to wash his feet; staying that 
way as he drew the cloth over the narrow curves of his rear, drifting 
between, and then slithering up his back.  

Ran stood under the jets one last time, turning this way and that, 
rinsing until the water around his feet ran clear, and then he spun 
the knobs off.  Curling his tails behind his ears, he crossed over 
to the open doorway and leaned against the fogged tile wall.

"Are you still going to dry me off?"  
***

There wasn't really anything in Ken's thoughts just then that lived in 
peace with words.  He had fallen back against the wall by then, and his 
lips parted in little gasps of what he couldn't quite seem to say.  

Some part of him suspected his weight had abandoned him, that if he 
hadn't been standing atop his own toes, he might have risen and fallen 
away through all the tumbling glory if space.  For he FELT otherwise as 
if Ran had stirred him at last but the only outright expression of this 
still escaping him.  Unless the blush counted.  And he really was 
blushing, very, very hard.

The spell broke though.  When his lover spoke to him, it was as if they 
had drawn closer without moving at all.  He just nodded, and took the 
biggest, softest terry towel from the rack, splaying it over his arms 
so it was open when he embraced Ran, it followed his hands all around 
the other boy, whose damp shoulder he pressed his face to.

"'sposedta be your birthday, not mine," he chided with a little laugh 
as he ran his palms up and down his lover's back and hips, until the 
cloth between them was matty and wet itself.

His fingers brushed into Ran's soaking eartails, and tugged on one, 
just to get him to look down into his own eyes, which were dusky then 
and airless. "You wanna play awhile *before* we go outside?"

***

Ran leaned forward to kiss Ken on the forehead, sliding his hands 
down the other boy's arms to catch his hands; the towel slipped to 
the floor around his feet, and neither of them made any move to 
retrieve it. First one hand and then the other was lifted to his 
lips and their knuckles dusted with kisses. 

"What did you have in mind?"

***

"Making you happy." Ken nodded when he spoke, and his momentary 
timidity gone, his fingers slowly uncurled and came around to catch 
Ran's, hold them just as he had been held.  "Sure I can do somethin' I 
mean..."

And his lover's fingers, still twinged with water, he took and slipped 
inside the front of his vest, right against the center of his ribs, and 
let the liquid on them bleed through the silk until his clothing was 
sprinkled with little clear spots all around, one especially that 
hinted at a caramel-colored nipple.  A bud of buds of baby's breath in 
his hair began to shed its dust.  He gave the other boy a limpid, 
playful kind of look as he drew away "But y'know, I kinda think..."

Moments from there then, the rest of him had come undone as well, for 
in a single rush of aqua, all of Ken's things had flown onto the towel 
rack.

"Beds are over-rated." 

***

"That adventurous streak of yours is really coming into play today. 
I wonder if I'll escape unscathed." Ran laughed as he closed the 
distance between them. "I can't say I care if I don't. I can 
survive carpet burns in interesting places." 

He propped one arm on his shoulder, and cupped his hand atop the back 
of his head. He was a bit darker than he remembered, as if he'd been 
sunning himself during his free moments. Maybe he'd always been that 
way, and their time apart had dimmed Ran's memory of how he looked 
undressed. Either way, it didn't really matter to him. Only Ken 
did. Ran drew one arm around his waist, and splayed his free hand 
upon the center of his chest. He rested his head against his 
lover's, brushing a kiss across his temple. 

"You don't have to have sex with me to make me happy, because I'm 
happy just being around you. I...I just wanted you for so long, it 
was kind of hard to take..." He paused, fully enfolding Ken in his 
arms. "But I know it was hard for you to take, being with me and 
not..." 

His breath caught, and then eased from his lungs, and he loosened his 
hold on the other boy, pulling back a little to look at him. "You 
don't have to do anything like that just to try and please me."

***

Ken rose to his tiptoes in the other boy's embrace; until they were 
nose to nose, or as close to it as they could be.  A deep breath later, 
he had brushed rather their lips together.

"I want to."

With a sigh he fell back to his heels.  His hands plucked at the water 
running down Ran's hair, and he let his cheek rest against his 
shoulder.  The creamy scent of his beloved was just starting to come 
back after the shower had washed it away, and he reveled in it, felt 
hands coasting up and down the slippery scars he wore over his shoulder 
blades.  

For an instant, his eyes darted down to his own crotch, and back to his 
boyfriend's still slight stiffness.  But his lashes fell closed rather, 
and he cast himself back into the other boy's arms, folding him up in 
his own and starting to draw him closer to the door.  His mind was all 
echoes the swordsman in his arms, naked and wrapped up in his own 
pleasure, curled up beside him in bed, and in the shower all over 
again.  No... there would be somewhere more forgiving and mischievous 
than even that!

He slipped halfway there and took both of them to the tile.

"Damn..."

***

"Yes," said Ran. "Damn." 

The redhead rocked up onto his hip, fluffing his damp, haywire locks 
into place--more or less. "I thought I'd get bruised during our play, 
not before. I should have known better than to make such an 
assumption.  You okay?" 

Ken hummed an assent, and Ran slid his hand down 
to pet his lover's thigh. "I don't know about you, but I was hoping 
for someplace cozier...And I think I know just the place. Come 
on." 

Both boys rose from the cold, hard tile, and Ran lead Ken out of the 
bathroom, and back up to the living room. Once they crossed the 
threshold, he released his lover's hand with a knowing little 
smile. 

"Now...here's my idea." He walked over to the sofa, and 
gathered up all the cushions scattered across it. "I thought we 
could take these, and put them..." he crossed over to the bay 
windows, and plopped them down on the floor before them. "Here. 
Open the curtains like so." The heavy drapes parted with a rattling 
sort of groan, and the room brightened immeasurably. On the floor 
where Ran had dropped the pillows, sunbeams painted huge blocks of 
light. 

"And so we have a soft, warm nest to lie in. Cozy, like you like." 
With a smile, he nudged the pillows into more of a spread, and 
settled himself amongst them. "What do you think?"

***

Ken took a running leap into the pillows, sending a few of them leaping 
into the air when he landed.  More spun with him as he cast himself 
about until he lap supine in the middle of them, a great, big, blue one 
with stars pinned all over it squashed in his arms.

"I think you look delicious from here."

When Ran sighed, the other boy answered only with a kiss for his 
lover's ankles, for he could reach no more of him from where he lay. 

"Yeah, this's MUCH better than the bathroom floor, as kinky and 
excitin' as the bathroom floor may be otherwise."

He took his lover in his arms as soon as he had joined him, and lapped 
his face then in tiny open-mouth kisses.  All the while, he drew him 
nearer and nearer, until he had hidden Ran's body with his own.  With 
that, he took them both tumbling through the pillows.  They landed- Ken 
on his back and Ran half-kneeling in the circle of his legs, though he 
pulled himself closer- held his lover as he nibbled his shoulder, and 
the cabochon of the old wound there; curled up and kissed the pinkish 
swoop his belly wore.

***

His kisses made his skin tingle, and a tiny gasp fell from Ran's  
parted lips. He wound an arm around him, stroking the slick scars  
which covered his sun-warmed back; petted his gold-dusted hair. He  
felt the wet caress of Ken's tongue along the faded remnant of his  
last, near-fatal injury, and his eyelids fell shut.  
 
"I thought we could save being kinky and exciting on the bathroom  
floor for another day. I just like to see you in sunshine."

***

Ken's hand would lazily up his lover's back and neck, finding its way 
into his hair and there curling up in the crimson threads.  He coaxed 
his lover's head back and raised his own away from his skin, taking a 
moment to smile up at him before he said, "I do too.  An' I like you by 
moonlight, and starlight and lamplight too!"

He could feel Ran sighing more than hear him over the slippery sounds 
of their latest kiss- they had melted, first into one another's arms 
and then the pillows.  He was under his lover, and then astride him, 
and the flowers behinds his ear ended up smashed.  

There was no need to speak, but he heard little whispers in his ear, 
and adored them, though he couldn't make them out exactly.  He arched 
into his lover's arms again. The other boy met him; they swayed about 
the cushions, sending them ever more asunder. They laughed. His hands 
strayed over Ran's thighs and underside of his cock, glancing up and 
down against his warmth and along the juncture of his legs and waist 
until it brushed over the sensitive bit of skin just before his 
entrance, though feigning as if it meant to fall against him there as 
well.

Ken's own audacity seemed to surprise him a little more than might 
have been pleasant.  "Umm... oops."  

***

Such a simple touch it was, but it made his heart beat that much 
faster, made it rise to his throat. His eyes closed, his body tensed 
slightly, but Ken's fingers never left him.  

"Can..." he began, curling his fingers in the boy's dark hair and 
sitting up a little to look at him. "Would you do more? Would 
you, could you pretend...?" Ran urgently pressed his mouth to his 
lover's. 

"Take me. I don't care how..."

***

"E-eto...?" stammered Ken.  It was the only semi-coherent sound he 
managed to get out.  After all, he looked more or less like Ran had 
clocked him upside the head with a broom handle.  The blush that had 
taken him while he had watched his lover in the shower- the one that 
had faded under that same lover's touch, came back to him and it was 
all he could do to keep blinking.

And then, he grinnned.

Ran, still flushed and disheveled as ever, gave him a look.

"You don't mind then if I... if it's not my dick?"

His lover shook his head and wrapped his arms around one of the 
champagne velvet throw pillows from the lounger. And Ken, eyes alight 
and not with anything exactly chaste, bent and whispered in his ear, 
"I'd love to.  Be right back!"

One sound, dripping kiss later, Ken took off through the door (that 
neither of them had bothered to close) raced down the steps, upset the 
extinguished candles on the dining room table, took what he needed, 
sprinted back up the stairs and this time remembered to slam the double 
doors behind himself this time, though he did it roughly and once-
handed because he had the bowl of strawberries in the other.

***

A silky blue paisley pillow skittered away from the pile as Ran  
shifted his weight, rising on one hip and one elbow to see what his  
lover had brought. All the sleepy sensuousness of his expression  
fled.
 
"Strawberries?" 
 
Ken looked down at the bowl in his hand, then back at Ran, and  
grinned most devilishly. Ran quirked a brow. "What's that look  
for? What..."  
 
Still beaming, the dark haired boy was advanced upon his position  
quickly, and knelt amidst the cushions at his side, the bowl on the  
floor beside him.  Ran looked rather alarmed.
 
"You aren't going to put those inside me?"

***

"Nooooooot exactly," Ken reassured his lover, and once he had plopped 
the dish beside him, spilled a few of the berries.  He reached up and 
stroked Ran's forehand through his bangs, let himself linger there, 
taking in all the little ways the other boy's offended terror refused 
to subside.  If fact, it grew somewhat more evident after he helped 
himself to one of the dainties, and smacked his lips around it.  

"Nah, you're probably right.  I wasn't gonna use whole strawberries 
though."

Then the horror did begin to fade somewhat.  Sadly, it was into a kind 
of vexation.  

"Woul it would *HURT*.  Really *BAD*."

Ran gave him a bleak sort of look.  Like he'd expected it would hurt, 
didn't care.  Could deal with it.  Ken thought nothing of it and 
plucked the plumpest little ruby from the dish, tore its leaves off 
with his teeth.  The hull went flying and the circlet of pink flesh 
beneath his tipped over his palm so when he squeezed the strawberry, 
all of the juice ran out onto his fingers.  And onto the floor, but 
neither of them noticed.

With a long trail of kisses along the other boy's shoulder, he played 
as if he had climbed atop him with lustful intent- swung himself over 
his back once he had tapped him into his stomach.  It was only the 
juice-wet tips of his fingers his pressed against his rosebud though.

"I love you too much for that.  Sorry if I disappointed your raunchy 
side, but I just do."

***

"I'm not disappointed."  

Gradually all the tension slumped from him, and Ran collapsed fully 
on their makeshift bed, hands cupping nothing upon one of the empty 
velvet pillows. Fingers lightly drummed over his upraised shoulder, 
and the dripping tips of the other set stroked him. One surged 
forward as if to penetrate him, making him draw breath sharply, only 
to retreat. His cock twitched in response, and he resisted the urge 
to touch himself. He didn't want to move yet. If at all. 

"I love you more than you realize," he whispered. 

A shadow touched his eyelids, and their lips met, tender parting and 
meeting once more. Ken pulled away, sliding closer, and as Ran faced 
forward again, his fingers slid into him, eliciting another sudden 
gasp--from surprise more than pain.  Even so, he felt himself tense 
against Ken's invading digit, and, in an effort to relax, Ran began 
to stroke his own cock.  

***

It did help, more than Ran might have liked it to perhaps, for his own 
touch relaxed him so Ken's fingertip skated further into him than the 
other boy had meant it to.  They both cried out- one in momentary 
dismay, and the other his lover's name.  Then silence, and then the 
single word again, over and over, sometimes longer and caught on the 
air, sometimes quick and slight.

Ken started to shush Ran with a faint vibrato of his breath, but he 
couldn't, and suddenly, he didn't want to.  It felt funny though, 
hearing his own name like that on someone else's lips.  It almost 
quieted his finger tips, and would have but for the spurr of Ran's 
blushing mouth.

So he let him speak, and did not even kiss him there anymore, though he 
left himself still have his cheeks and throat.

His beloved felt almost like the inside of a seashell, though pliant 
and so warm; shuddering a little with the unfamiliar sensation of being 
caressed.  

A second berry ended up crushed in his hand, but the liquid of this one 
dripping down to where his lover held himself, and brushed his hand 
away so he could have him there rather.  

(Then a second voice as well.  "Ran... Ran, aishite'ru.  I-itsumo.  
Ran... anata ga hoshii.  Ran...")

He found it, and pressed it tight under his finger tip.

(OOC: Ken says: "Ran... Ran... I love you.  Always.  Ran... I want you.  
Ran...")

***

Ran's hips surged forward under the pressure, his cock sliding 
through the slick tunnel of Ken's hand. He arched as taut as a bow, 
relaxing only a little when the initial surprise wore off. 
Endearments came in whispers from his lover's lips. Ran slid one 
hand up the underside of the arm draped across his hip, and he hooked 
his fingers over Ken's broad shoulder, feeling the give and take of 
his muscles as he worked him. 

"I want you," he sighed, pressing his head down into his 
pillow, crushing the corner of which in his free hand. The finger 
within him set up a rhythm, pressing tight and releasing. Ran let 
the last of his inhibitions go, and lost himself in the spell his 
lover's voice and hands wove around him. Rendered silent, Ran 
clutched at him, writhing, nudging Ken's fondling digits in time with 
the strokes he received deep inside. 

It built and built, spiraling down to his center and coiling there 
tighter and tighter...

...until one last hard press to that deep-buried sweet spot unleashed 
it. With a cry, Ran tilted his head back, baring his throat to Ken's 
kisses, and the hand around him ceased its toying and gripped him 
with intent. Ran's stomach, the floor, were stained over and over 
with cum, and the churning caresses continued until the redhead fell 
limp on their impromptu bed. His hand swooped down then from Ken's 
shoulder, and came to rest just at his wrist, and from there, covered 
the back of Ken's hand. And there he held him, panting and dazed 
upon a sea of silk paisley and pale velvet. 

"I love you, Ken," he whispered, clutching that trapped hand to his 
chest, just above the space where his heart hammered its 
excitement. "Forever."

***

Ken said nothing at first to the boy who had him wrapped up in his 
arms.  Just murmured a little in his throat, and unfurled his fingers 
along the center of his ribs.  He had a momentary fantasy then, that 
his hand passed through Ran and hung there for awhile, close as close 
could be between two mere people, but it fled then, and he realized he 
was still trembling as with movement, for Ran's heartbeat echoed in 
him.  

Ken though was still only Ken, and much like Ken might have been wont 
to do, he flopped down, belly to belly with his lover, his hand caught 
between them and stuck there with strawberry juice, has he curled up 
with his head to the shoulder just underneath him as if he meant to 
stay there for a long and blissful exhaustion.  The digits still 
playing near his throat began to pet him.  He smiled, breathed deeply, 
and with that decided not to think anymore about anything else besides  
the warm, sticky-satin body in his arms.  

Speaking of which, something quite suddenly occurred to him, and he 
pulled his nose away from Ran's neck.

"Hey, you MOVED me so you could look me in the eye!

***

[[[OOC: Ah... Ken originally told Ran he was cute and I came to the 
conclusions I couldn't deal with it.  Gomen ne -_-;.]]]

"But I do like to have you where I can see your face," he replied, 
moving forward again. "It's such a nice one. I can't help but want 
to stare at it." 

Smiling then, Ran kissed him, lightly.

***

Ken, however, did not kiss him back lightly at all.  They landed side 
by side between the star-drenched cushion and a field of small merry 
suns.

"I just want to remember for next time.  And believe me, there will 
*BE* a next time."

Added to this with a whisper- "You're lots of fun to fuck, y'know?"

And he laughed, as if he'd embarrassed himself.

***

"Such language," Ran chided. "Have you been reading my--" He caught 
himself, clamping his mouth shut. "Uh...nevermind." 

But Ken started to speak, and Ran arched up to give him something 
else to think about: Another kiss, this one unapologetically 
brazen. He held the other boy as close as he could, stroking circles 
over the scarred back beneath his palms. 

"I hope there is another time," he whispered. "Many, many times to 
be had in the future."

***

"Oh, but I..." Ken began, and would have gone on into many a tender 
endearment, many an assurance and lovely word about birthday wishes.  
WOULD have, but for the fact that when he tried get to his knees and 
pull his lover into his lap he stuck fast.

"Umm..."

As a matter of fact, it took quite a bit of squirming and pushing and 
shoving before they managed to extricate themselves from one another, 
and by that time, they both had little red sting marks all over where 
the juice had set between them.

"Well, I could go for a shower, how d'ya feel about another one, this 
one WITH me?"

Ran simply bopped him over the head and as he sucked the cum from his 
own fingers, pulled him up and started off to the bathroom.

***

Schuldich awoke the next morning to discover, much to his displeasure, 
that if he parted his hair and squinted at himself in the mirror JUST 
RIGHT he could kinda sorta see his roots. As such, after a moment of 
bewailing this apocalypse, he marched into the master bath with a 
fresh bottle of henna retrieved from his favorite hiding place for 
such things: in a camphor wood box hidden under the curio cabinet. 
On his way back up from his expedition to the sanctuary, he assured 
himself that now, since he and his lover were being open about the 
fact they both knew well enough he had a dye job, it would doubtless 
be more sensible to stash the things in the medicine cabinet like a 
normal person, that appearance at least be damned!

Sensible would have to wait though until henna-dousing time was over, 
and by that time he had disregarded the whole over-promoted idea as a 
passing whimsy of his. He left the shower, and proceeded to rub 
himself down with the most expensive cologne in the house, rather than 
just spritz himself a nice little cloud of it and walk through. 
Temperance? Bah. When he had finished, he smelled of spice and sex 
and sandalwood. He also realized at once that in all the fuss, he'd 
forgotten his antiperspirant. As he sprayed it on, for he preferred 
the unscented aerosol kind, he had a very peculiar thought.

/Why do I have this obsession with not stinking?/

He didn't know, and stood in a haze of settling deodorant for some time 
wondering about it. In the end, he came to the conclusions that 1) it 
was probably somehow related to the fact he was horribly allergic to 
the twist up varieties (unbeknownst to even Crawford) and 2) he really 
shouldn't get dressed all by himself, because...

/This is messed up even for me./

Having no Saffie to consult on the matter, he laughed, left his towel 
on a heap in the middle of the bathroom floor, and peered out the door 
to find her and Nagi still fast asleep on the covers.

Schuldich put on a pair of boxers that weren't his; custom made, loose 
fit, acid washed jeans; a lavender silk shirt which sleeves that 
drooped down way over his hands; and a silver necklace with a link for 
a charm in the center, but no such charm in sight. A pair of satin 
slippers introduced themselves to his toes and he sashayed out the door 
and left the bedroom door open so Jasper could come puttering in, 
doubtless with the intent to start hooting for breakfast in the midst 
of someone's erotic dream.

Farf yelped at him the minute he slipped into the sanctuary, and with 
that, the dog once found himself carted into the basement quarters.

The front door was still wide, and there was a faerie ring of spilled
blossoms and cut leaves that the wind had dropped around it. He stood 
in the center between the two parted halves of the entrance, stretching 
and yawning now and then.

"You know, what? I feel pretty damn good this morning." He began once 
more to laugh at nothing as he turned a few cartwheels back inside. Oh, 
the piano might have been roped off (and as such, the moment he saw it 
like that for once, he wanted to bury his fingers in the chaste white 
keys!) but the radio certainly wasn't.

He filled the autochanger with all of his favorite albums, set it to 
random and went in search of his package from the apothecary. It was 
not only the voice of Stevie Nicks that misty rolled over the Church of 
Saint Catherine then, but Schuldich's too, as he sat on the stoop- a 
pile of cigarette wrappers held down by a candlestick at one side, and 
a saucer of brassy-yellow marijuana at the other.

He rolled the joint one-handed, drummed out Rhiannon with the other; 
struck the match on the front stoop and lit one end without the 
slightest trepidation. A smirk came to his lips just before he had his 
first drag.

"Bottoms up!"

With which he took a terrific gulp of smoke, held it, held it a little 
more, and fell over coughing and sputtering so loudly that the yard was 
shortly devoid of all the more cautious varieties of birds.

Once he had fought down his escapee breath, he pulled himself up by way 
of the door frame (for he'd quite fallen all the way off the stoop) and 
sat there a moment, wafting the remaining azure smoke away and giving 
the joint what would have been quite the withering look if his eyes 
hadn't started to water.

"Okay, so I haven't done this in awhile. Next one won't be so bad. Just
need to get acclimated and all that."

Saying so, Schuldich pointed his nose in the air with the utmost 
distain for the whiles of his Acapulco Gold, cracking only the 
slightest glare at its smoldering tip as if he expected it to be 
ashamed for what it had done to him on their reunion. Presuming himself 
'acclimated', he tried taking a second drag.

And subsequently had to pick himself up out of the flowerbed along the 
steps for a second time. He sat between the doors, wheezing and choking 
now and then when the unexpected dainty breeze thought it might be 
funny to blow a few of the slowly leaking vapors back in his face. 
There was a broken rhododendron stuck in his fly, and dirt all over 
both of his knees, not to mention that the landscaping was now a dandy 
mess. Seeing this, he sighed, and sat holding his chin in his hand 
whilst staring at the busted stems, keeping the joint as far away from 
his nose as he could. His shirt was wet with saline that had leaked 
onto his eyes and down the end of his nose.

"You know, they sell stronger stuff than you in Japan and I hadda smell 
it every fuckin' time it was my turn to drag Nagi out of one of those 
sex clubs on the Planet," Schuldich informed his joint, who simply went 
on simmering away, now and then drizzling warm ash down into the stone 
of the stairs. Apparently, said joint wasn't much of a 
conversationalist.

He decided that he didn't care one way or the other, and with that, 
braced himself for another puff... one which he delayed for a few
moments so he could get the falling over part done with by flopping 
down in the grass just beside the place where the path ended on 
beholding the church's door. From there, the music was still clear as 
could be and as long as he took up the scenery, the trashed landscaping 
not as obvious. 

This time, he took a teeny-tiny little breath from just the very, very
furthest edge of the paper. For a moment, it was all sweetness and 
cinders between his lips.  He started to cough! Swallowed the shallow 
exhalation just in time.  Would have sighed, but that was contrary to 
the endeavor at hand, and just when he was convinced his lungs were 
finally used to the vapors, hiccuped them out his nose, which felt 
even less pleasant than it sounds.

"Well this sucks," Schuldich proclaimed once his sinuses had stopped 
aching, and as such he could speak to the empty air without crossing 
his eyes in pain.  Though it did strike him then things could have been 
somewhat worse.  After all, he hadn't thrown up yet, and he didn't much 
feel like it at all.  Not even after he sat up and rubbed his eyes a 
little with the edge of his hand, skating his fingers over his lashes 
in only one way the a cat does when it washes.

/No WAY I'm letting Nagi find out about this! I'll just give the stuff 
to Farf and act all happy.  Not like he'll know the difference./

A mournful string of barks came up from the basement window around the 
corner.

"Hehehehe."

A sigh, and force of habit took over him: he held the stalk between his 
fingers to his lips and took a puff.  After all, that's what he usually 
did when he had a cigarette.  No point in letting it go to waste no 
matter how he felt.  And actually, now that the searing sensation in 
his throat had more or less subsided... it was back to being a 
perfectly pleasant morning in his mind.

Not to mention that he stopped himself in a moment, since he didn't 
exactly HAVE a cigarette, no matter what force of habit told him.

This time, he smirked, the breath he held brimming with warm, 
saccharine vapors he worked into smoke rings as he let them go.

"Now that's more like it!"

Inordinately pleased with himself, he went back to his place between 
the doors, looking as candid as he could about the whole affair- as if 
he had been there all morning, smoking away and had no idea how the 
grass stains, the dirt stains, the water from his eyes or the lewd 
little rhododendron had gotten there.  The birds his coughs had 
frightened off came sailing back one by one to the branches dandling 
the light over the path, and from there sat and watched the noisy human 
and the sailing vapors the wind would not allow to gather around him.  
Schuldich hadn't even realized the hour was well before ten! A 
ridiculous time for a retired (more or less) assassin to be up and 
about, surely.

Of course, by the time he'd cashed poor, little mary jane, things were, 
once again, not especially well.  
 
"I don't feel shit."  Shit not including it seemed, the persistent 
stinging of his eyes, which by now were bleary, bloodshot pink, and his 
cheeks, which were sticky with eye-drippings.  "Goddamnit."  
 
Not one to be struck down by bogus merchandise however, he shrugged, 
and watery eyes aside, rolled and lit up a second joint right after the 
first one had ceased to smolder at his side.  Yes, it was all his 
contrary side then, but he, being well acquainted with this side to the 
point of mindless intimacy, didn't notice.  Not one bit.  There was so 
much else that morning to catch his interest anyway.  
 
Namely the sight of his bike, which he had tied to a sycamore tree at 
the far end of the church's lot, and which had gone unused for awhile. 
It was now somewhat the victim of a creeping vine smothered with golden 
flowers.  
 
"One of these days I'm gonna have to ride that thing in circles around 
Aya-kun.  For this, I need to purchase a hand bell. I mean, it IS his 
birthday, now that I think of it.  Probably be even sweeter and more 
hysterical than usual about it.  Hmm... yes, I'll have to get somethin' 
for the kitten and drop in for a little hello and a honey dip.  The 
bike SHOULD go right up the tower steps."  
 
/Oh, I do enjoy plotting these things almost as much as actually doing 
them./  
 
"Hmm...  
 
"Brad never noticed I bought the bike in the first place.  Weird.  
Maybe I should ride it in circles around him too.  In the nude."  
 
/I do love fucking that man./  
 
"Hmm...  
 
"Speaking of that man, wouldn't he be having a time chewin' me out 
right about now?  He'd be all like, 'Oh AUBREY! How could you?  That is 
SOOOOOOOO cheap-San-Francisco-whore'."

"And then I'd be like, 'Well, cheap San Francisco whore sounds like 
something fun to play! Let me get my fancy black underwear'."

Schuldich's hands rose from their languorous postures at his side, and 
made lips of his fingers which began to flap somewhat in time with the 
beats of his words, the left doing so when Brad spoke so the ring upon 
his finger flickered with the elucidations, and the right when he 
quoted himself.

"'Oh Aubrey! What is it with you and dressing like a chick? As  
misogynist, I can't say I usually approve of this'."

"But then I'd kinda say, y'know, 'Why shouldn't I dress like a girl 
sometimes? I do everything else perverse there is and you know it too, 
bunny-boy!' "

"'Oh yeah! I know, like, alright Aubrey, we're a bunch of hentais!'"

"'Oh yeah!'"

"'Oh yeah!'"

"'Fine, I know you are but what am I?'"

"'Horny?'"

"'Touche.'"

"'Touche yourself.'"

"'I'd like that.'" 

"'Oooh! Come over here my fiery German swain!'"

"'Despite the fact I'm not actually German, I'm there!'"

"'Oh Aubrey! MMMM!'"

"'Oh Brad! MMM!'"

Needles to say, by this time, Schuldich hands had locked into one 
another, and writhed palm to palm before him while he giggled at the 
sight of those imaginary lips having each other, over and over and over 
again.  After all! On that beauteous morn he found his fingers seemed 
to be really very much kinda... flat. 

He glanced up from his little game then and looked down the path, which 
appeared much more like a bad painting of a path, one with no 
perspective.  The trees had all turned to tissue paper silhouettes 
before him, and the birds to falling sequins.  The clouds were only 
white paint, the faint traces of passing dragons but stray brush 
strokes close enough for him to touch.  He stuck his left thumb in his 
mouth and said to this simply: "Cool..."

"Oh Aubrey! It really is quite cool indeed!" Chuckled paper-person 
Crawford who'd appeared with one of the bouncier songs on the Fleetwood 
Mac CD, and had accompanied himself with the strange notion in 
Schuldich's mind that Brad would really look very good dressed up like 
a hippie.  Hippie Brad, in all of his two-dimensional glory, wore an 
embroidered leather vest with nothing underneath save a few strings of 
beads.  His bellbottoms rode low over cork sandals, and a thin ribbon 
or blue circled his forehead, keeping his bangs very close to his skin 
so they didn't blow around too much in the imaginary wind that 
otherwise went after his hair.

"Also very cool," Schuldich mumbled around his thumb.

Paper-person hippie Crawford giggled like a schoolgirl and tasted like 
frosty, sweet snow cone just like the real Crawford did.  "You're 
stoned, did you know that?"

"Oh, well I was starting to think so, but then why am I hallucinating? 
Weed doesn't make you hallucinate.  Unless it has angel dust in it.  I 
don't think this did."

"Because you're a telepath, and because of Fran."

"Wow, Fran. What does Fran have to do with my being stoned? Is it like 
flan? Because I won't eat flan, even when I'm stoned."

To his resolute nod, hippie minus one dimension Brad wiggled like a 
scarf in another imaginary breeze and kept on wiggling along with the 
beat of the music he so despised, singing then with one of the voices, 
and now with another, finally the birds, who once more fled.  Schuldich 
laughed so hard his eyes watered again, and leapt from the stairs much 
further than he would have needed too even if they had been in 
possession of all three of their measurements in his mind.  He took his 
daydream of Brad, leather and all, into his arms and danced with him 
about the front lawn.

It was about this time the milk man had the misfortune to be coming up 
the path.

And Valdemarian milkman though he might have been, for some reason he 
STILL hadn't ever seen a dribbly-eyed red-headed telepath dancing with 
himself ever before, though he did a fine job of trying to ignore him, 
and had almost gotten away with it.  At least until he made it to the 
foot of the stairs.  

Only then did Schuldich have any sensation of the boy's thoughts, and 
when they did come, they were first tingling mint chill with shock, 
then abruptly shifted to the overall tint of the milkman's mind, which 
was sharp and crisp like rock candy.  It made his mouth water, even if 
it wasn't especially spectacular in the ways of mental flavors.  Hippie 
Brad vanished in a puff of winged snails, leaving his lover to stare 
wide-eyed at the helpless milkman, who had started whistling to carry 
on his air of nonchalance, and who seemed to be no thicker than a page 
of a book.  

"My god!" Schuldich cried, "Where did you come from?"

"Tremontaine's Creamier and Confectionery," replied the milkman, 
quoting exactly from the list of official employee answers to bizarre 
questions.  

"You're like... a cake!"

"Thank you, sir," and he tipped his hat, having begun otherwise to edge 
slowly down the steps again.  "Two quarts of two-percent milk, half a 
pound of butter and a bottle of cream, just like you ordered.  I'll be 
on my way now."

Schuldich made sure that said way only lasted about as far as the start 
of the path into town, as the boy before him abruptly froze, then found 
he could move again, and froze, and moved, and finally fell flat on his 
ass, having become disoriented by all the moving and freezing he had 
done.  

"You're like a cake, because... you have frosting!" At these words, the 
boy found himself tugging here and there at his own uniform of white 
and pale green- making the fabric creak, though not rending it from 
himself.  "And you think there's something wrong with me, that I'm 
guilty of something, just like people are when they eat cake! You must 
be cake!"

"No offense," replied the milkman, "but you really must be very mad."

"Psssh! I'm not mad at all!" So the telepath laughed and grinned, 
pointing to his smile and the teeth peering out of it just to show how 
happy he was as opposed to mad.  "You're also not convinced that I'm 
not mad! Heeeeere! I'll show you just how happy I am with cake... even 
though you taste like you have more sugar in you then cake.  Maybe 
you're flourless cake with sugar sprinkles.  Mmm! Cake..." Quite 
merrily, the Schuldich flopped down beside his inadvertent prisoner, 
fluffed his stomach as if his stomach was a pillow, and laid down 
atop him, snuggling down into his shirt most complacently. 

"Mmm... mint chocolate flourless cake with sugar violets on top and a 
crŠme de cacao glaze..."

"Sir, I don't mean to be so blunt, but you're scaring me."

 "I am!" gasped Schuldich, clapping one of his hands to his cheek.  
"How can that be when you're cake!"

"No, I'm the milkman."

"Shuttup cake!!!"

With a few murmurs about the sanctity of dessert, he began to pull 
himself up over the surface of his terrified cake, who shuddered, and 
whose hair stood on end with fright no matter how much he cooed with 
his voice or his mind.  In time, he came to lay with cake's body 
underneath his own, all fluffy and moist and very much like cake 
indeed.  Even smelling of it, and the dainty confections atop it.  His 
tongue dripped down onto his face then, and wound little rose-patterned 
filigree around the pink gel on his cheeks, coming down from there onto 
the sugar-orbs of this throat, and in time the lattice work of his 
collar, which, unlike the rest of him, did not taste at all like cake 
to Schuldich, but like polyester.  As such, he unwrapped his cake by 
tearing his shirt off.  Buttons flew into the rhododendrons and rang 
against the side of the church.  

And there, underneath, was something far more interesting than the 
flavor of cake.!

"OOOOH! Shiny!"  Exclaimed the telepath as he beheld the dog-tags the 
milkman wore beneath his shirt.  They landed in his own hands then, 
were turned over and over and over, finally placed in his mouth, and 
sucked on them quite unabashedly.  "Mmm!"

"You Weirdie!" gasped the boy. 

"No, I'm a telepath, and you're cake, and now you think I'm crazy as 
opposed to mad.  But I'm still not mad! And these are delicious!"

A little of Schuldich's spit leaked out along the edge of the little 
plates of metal and spattered thusly on the chest of the imprisoned 
cake.

"MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD!" retorted the boy now, for in his fear, his tact 
had deserted him.

"CAKE!" replied the telepath.

"Fuck it! Get off of MEEEEEE!"

The terrified squeal sent his captor reeling, mentally at least, for 
rather than continuing to lay splayed across him, he got to his knees, 
he glanced around with a gasp.  Then he just crouched above the 
helpless milkman, whom he looked on with piteous pathos for an 
instant in his gaze.

"Ah... alright."

Schuldich said nothing besides that, and began rather to sway with the 
drifts of air, humming to himself and drumming his fingers here and 
there on himself and the boy.  Inside, the CD changers clacked as it 
picked another disk, and above them the coin of the sun dunked behind a 
foil cloud.    

For Schuldich had his eyes heavenward at the time: "Pretty..." 

"Umm... yes," for the boy could not help but see the resplendent sight.  
"Now, about you getting off of me, sir..."

"Getting off of you? I thought you said you wanted me to get you off?"

Of they two, one went quite pale, and the other began to grin, all 
disembodied Cheshire cat like.  But covetous still was he with his 
apprehended sweet, and not one bit in the mood to let him escape 
without leaving some of his sweetness behind!  And he kissed him, 
kissed him, kissed him in a haze of thrashing legs, chuckling still 
against his screams.  He let him throw himself against the dampness 
that had gathered on the front of his jeans, but he didn't let him up. 

"I love cake."

"You're a pervert!"

"So? That won't stop me from loving cake!" His hand came coasting 
smoothly over the naked skin beneath him as it trailed down, down far 
past the unnecessary decoration of his belt and the waist of his pants.  
"I think cake likes me too!" For he had there, underneath cake's 
coating, a small but definite erection he squeezed in his hands, and 
cradled back and forth between his sweaty fingers.

The milkman bit his own tongue and futily ground his feet against the 
grass, hoping for some way to pull himself up, but there was none and...

"You don't want to get up."

"I have a boy I like! I don't..."

"...want to disappoint him? Oh, but I can see him in your mind! He is a 
muffin!" Nodding to this, Schuldich reached under the milkman's head, 
and pulled him into his hands, holding him up away from the ground, 
though a few wildflowers had tangled in it just the same.  He left him 
with his pants pulled down, and his tip leaking on his own skin. "And 
muffins, you know, like to hear about the sexual conquests of cake."

"EWE! Why would anyone ever want to hear about..." He couldn't see the 
sky, not only for that Schuldich had descended upon him and begun to 
mop his face with his tongue, still fondling the dog tags with his lips 
though he was, but because his mind surged and flung itself into its 
own arms, bubbling and bursting and wheeling now with the drug-touched 
thoughts and memories of sex, seen, heard, and felt then by the boy, as 
Brad, Brad's lover, his lover then and many, many others, from virginal 
and wanting to lost in the embrace of the limbs of many others. 

When he woke, Schuldich was smiling at him, and had his pants unzipped.  
They said nothing to each other, but he felt a kind of rapid, soft 
breaking in his mind, and knew, somehow, that it was laughter.  

The telepath wasted no more time in divesting him, or reveling himself 
in the now desirous moans underneath him, and above, and all around, 
for his mind was snatching at them even where they were not now between 
little seekings of those thoughts all through him, drawn there by 
whiles and their own wild fleeing of the boy's mind.  He had his cake 
naked, and cake rose off its platter of grass to squeeze their thighs 
together.

To this, the telepath yelped in delight, and hauled him onto his back, 
casting his legs into the air and hanging them there by the angles.  
"You like that, cake!"

"I... I do!"

So he rubbed his face to him then, tight against.  When he needed to 
breathe, he did it with his lips locked around the cake's penis, the 
glaze from which he let drip all over them both.  Sometimes he stuck 
his fingers in the cake, and the cake moaned and thought of cherry 
lube. It lasted like that, for a long, long while fraught with tumbles 
across the yard- kisses and licks and bites.  Fingers stole here and 
there.  Eyes followed, flesh tore.  They were scratched both- stiff and 
scratched and wanting.

Cake had been expecting all the while to find himself once more at the 
mercy of his incidental consort, and so braced his insides for the time 
when he would feel Schuldich's cock nudge him open, even if he didn't 
know Schuldich was the other man's name.  The telepath had not the 
presence of mind to whisper it to him.

But no! Rather Schuldich, still wearing his jeans though they were more 
hovering around one knee now, threw one leg over the boy's body while 
he had him on his back, and eased himself over his waist for a moment.  
Then he picked himself up, and chuckling wildly under his breath, 
rocked down onto his captive's penis so it bit into him all at once.

His captive had nothing to say on this matter, save for his gasps and 
his moans and the wild twinges of motion that crept up through his hips 
and sent him thrusting up into the redhead's ass.  

"Doesn't that~ oh god, oh goddddd ~hurt?" He panted as he reached up 
for a handful of the henna red locks spilled about the telepath's face.

"Been doin' this awhile.  Cake can't hurt me."

As he said so, he pulled his knees up so they bumped the edges of his 
chest, and tugged him open as he could be, free to know the wiggles of 
the dainty penis he possessed just then; to rub his sweet spot down 
against it and feel it wriggle and writhe and the boy beneath him 
scream just before he screamed himself.

They sagged, it had only been a handful of minutes, but the boy was 
blanched and sweaty, and he himself still calling softly though by all 
appearances his orgasm had ended.  

The milkman snatched at his nipples as if to quiet him, for he took the 
fact his eyes had begun to water once again all wrong.

"Oh cake! You don't know! Sex is AWESOME on this stuff!"

"What stuff?"

"Weed of course."

The next thing Schuldich clearly perceived through his drugged and 
paper haze, was the fact he had been dumped on the ground by the steps, 
and that he had a pair of tin foil dog tags in his hand.

***

Sapphire Marlow awoke sometime later herself- stretched and yawned and 
through this came to be more than sure she wasn't by herself in bed! 
Nagi slept dreamlessly at her side (and she knew he had no reveries for 
she tasted only new fallen sakura in his drowsing mind), one of his 
hands lounging still against her thigh.  His fingers she lifted from 
her skin, and held near her still-tingling lips.  He smelled at himself 
and her brother and her, all together just like the evening before, as 
if his flesh now was made only of traces of those temperate, voluptuous 
moments.  

It was just so that she left him upon the midnight of the covers, 
picking herself out of them and the spilled toys to make her way to the 
shower, where she stayed for a few moments under a chilly cascade, 
though she still left it yawning and rubbing her eyes.

She also dried in the bedroom, letting the towel creep over her as if 
she rather was pulling on something fragile and revealing for that 
slumbering boy before her.  He still did not awaken, and once she'd 
finished, she realized she'd lost something to him.  Something 
irreconcilable, and so pitiably and perfectly ordinary, there would 
never be any way to reclaim it.  

She found she no longer had a desire to put on any clothing whatsoever.  
The lace no longer enchanted her, the china silk and delicate satin had 
no less and no more appeal than the unadulterated early hours of the 
day and how they rested all around her.  The pearls of wisdom in France 
designed had no power over her.

That morning, Saffie hung up her towel, combed her hair, put on a belt 
of golden links along with the necklace Brad had given her, and left 
her dressing room with not even a ribbon in her hair.  Unfettered, her 
tresses covered her shoulder blades in long, shimmering, butter 
ripples.  Likewise without constraints, her feet took her out the back 
door and out into the garden to look for fresh plums.

***

The sun had fled the windows by the time Nagi awoke, leaving behind a  
room cool and shadowed though it was still morning.  He wasn't  
inclined to rise straight off, even though he was quite alone, and  
the bed was quite cold where Savil had lain.  A few gold strands  
graced her pillow, the sheets her scent.  Nagi thoughtfully stroked  
the hollow where her body had rested, nestling into his pillow.   
 
He called to her, a whisper mind to mind, but no answer came.  Nagi  
rolled over and rose from the bed, prodded the discarded towel his  
love had left as he passed it en route to the bathroom.  He too  
showered under cold water, but lingeringly, washing hair and skin as  
thoroughly as he could in the hopes of shaking off his lethargy.  It  
was a pity she had left, a pity that they hadn't awakened in their  
own room.  He would have tried to lull her back, though it might have  
been in vain.   
 
He left his towel on the bathroom floor, his hair finger-combed more  
or less into place.  A purloined strand of morning glory sat behind  
one ear, blooming wistful blue against his cheek.  Nagi took his  
pajamas he had left, and when he reached the room he shared with Savil,  
he dropped them carelessly by the distressed dresser.  A search of  
his closet produced a see-through chiffon shirt of bold dark blue and  
light grey swirls with a ruffled neckline (one a lover had bought him  
from a women's boutique long ago), and a pair of faded jeans that  
were threadbare around the pockets and hems, but very comfortable.   
Shoes he eschewed altogether.   
 
Before he left, he paused to dab some of her perfume in the hollow of  
his throat.   
 
/Savil,/ he called again as he set the bottle back in  
place, /Where.../   
 
This time, she answered him, not by words, but by images.  He saw the  
plum tree, the crumbled bit of wall, and a smile sprang to his lips.   
He wasted no time in following her there.   
 
And when he reached the place of their first joining, and saw her  
stepping lightly through the grove, blonde hair flashing in the  
intermittent pools of sunlight, pale skin gleaming, he stopped,  
wanting just to watch her.   
 
/I wish I was more of a poet than I am now, Savil.  I would compose  
an ode to you, you look so lovely./

***

::I might then do the same for you, Nagi-chan.:: Came the honey of 
answers in his mind.  

The grass barely rustled under he feet as she slipped towards him, 
though it did cling here and there to her toes, for the morning had 
been wet when she first alighted in it.  Hair down and left to coalesce 
in the faint, saffron ripples, she didn't exactly look like Herald 
Savil, or like Saffie- and she could see that in her own reflection in 
his blue-green eyes, besides simply feel it.  She once more soothed her 
lover, told him how he looked in her eyes as she drew closer, for he 
was more than a wisp that day afterwards: he was brilliant blue ink 
spilled across the air; the presence a flask of Curacao has- with all 
the hopes and gaiety and lavish whiles.

He smiled a little at that, and she ceased her steps before him, her 
arms holding a jewel box worth of lavender lapis plums to her chest.  
Her tiny breasts were pressed into them, her nipples hidden by their 
shine. 

::But words don't like me as much as they do you.  I can remember you 
like this, for you're especially sweet.::

Their thoughts both began to sparkle with recollections of their 
evening before.  He felt the covers as she felt them, his hands and his 
tongue and his weight, disembodied and yet so real...

::To think of those things at once! And don't decide it is too strange! 
Every first time ever is like that, just barely coming apart. It 
doesn't matter what it's for.::

"Although..."

::Some things are just...::

Here the scents and the flavors of the brightest, softest clouds- the 
just-imagined never-delights of dreams that wizards cook and lust of 
chocolate knows all too well.

::...-er than others!::

"Angel moy."

One of Saffie's hands then uncurled from the bounty of plums at her 
chest, and rose first towards him, though falling finally on her lips 
as those she still held so close to her bobbed as if asking to be 
taken.

***

"Beloved," he whispered. 

/I had worried about you. I couldn't help it./ 

Nagi's hands encircled Savil's narrow waist, and the belt chimed its 
displeasure over being disturbed. Soft white breasts peeking at him 
from behind curtains of golden silk--he spared their pink tips one 
kiss each before sinking his teeth into one succulent plum and 
drawing it away from her cradling hand. Nagi took a bite, juice 
thinly streaming down from his purpled lips to streak his throat, and 
then he held the untouched side out to her. 

"Are you hungry, Savil?"

***

::I am now.::

An unholy smile in glimmers crossed her lips then, and her lips the 
skin of the plum before her teeth broke it and pulled away the flesh 
inside.  Like her lover's, her throat then wore a single string of pale 
juice.  The plum itself had no complaints about the pair of crescent 
moons now cut into either side of its body.  And Savil leveled a blue 
and heady gaze at Nagi.

"But you're adorable when you worry, so you're always forgiven."

Her belt chimed for she had risen to her toes, all intentions of her 
form obviously interested now in the liquid about her lover's throat.

She was barely a centimeter away from it when she perked up suddenly, 
pushing away from him, her eyes wide.  His inquisitive thoughts met 
with mental shushes, and frustrated-seeming were they.

There came a leafy crash on the far side of the tumbled wall, and 
shortly out of the cracked and frantic branches came Schuldich.  His 
hair was a wreck, his fly halfway undone, his eyes wet, and he had a 
chain hanging out of his mouth as he sucked on it and whatever charm 
hung on it.  

"Hey, when did you two get up? You missed the cake.  It was all shiny."

"Cake...?" It was very, very, VERY seldom Saffie resorted to verbal 
questions she didn't already know the answer to, but now happened to be 
one of those times.

***

"Weed, you mean," said Nagi.  "And by your appearance, you managed it 
quite nicely without our help.  Or should I say him."  He brushed a 
windblown lock away from his face.  "I doubt you'd get naked just to 
eat cake--not unless a cake was presented as a sex toy.  Then you 
probably would."  

/And we've only just risen.  In fact, you interrupted our 
breakfast./  

One plum seemingly freed itself from the cradle Savil's hand formed 
against her bosom, and rose to hover in the air between them.  Nagi 
threw his hand forward as if hurling something at Schuldich, and the 
plum flew in a straight line towards the redhead, only to stop just 
inches away from hitting him.  

"You'll be getting the munchies eventually, so you might as well take 
a plum for later."  

***

For quite some moments, Schuldich simply starrrrrrrred at the 
levitating fruit, as if he, so very, very accustomed to the paranormal 
antics of Nagi had suddenly forgotten all about the boy's various 
talents! That, or it had slipped his mind just what a plum was.

"Pretty..." he finally whispered, though very softly, almost if he feared 
frightening off the orb of shiny violet.  He sighed, he purred and made 
little gurgling noises.  After a moment of this and skipping this way 
and that as he admired the plum, he jerked it out of the air as if 
expecting as much resistance as from a living branch.  

The whole thing promptly wound up in his mouth.  His cheeks puffed up 
like a squirrel's and he chewed noisily for some time, juice dribbling 
down his shirt as it squelched from the corner of his mouth.

Saffie said nothing regarding this, but her hands flew to her hips, and 
she glared daggers at her brother.  As for Schuldich, he seemed 
oblivious to it all, and eventually spat the hard pith and innards of 
the plum onto the grass before saying, "You think it's fu~unny, and 
you're dish-soap shiny sweet!"

His lips licked, he hopped over to the little blond girl- who was 
huffing irately by now -and began to prance and sip around her, his 
fingers stealing in her hair, lips creeping all around her face in 
little love-bird kisses while he giggled, and giggled and finally 
gasped, staggering backwards away from Savil.  His hands flew to his 
cheeks, and he shrieked, "My God! You're NAKED! When did this happen!?"

***

"I never thought he could be shocked," said Nagi, plucking a long 
strand of blonde hair from his sleeve; he twined loosely it around 
his index finger.  "Does another day of firsts lie ahead of us now?"  

Savil said nothing, simply rolled her eyes at her brother.  Nagi 
smiled a little.  "After all we did last night, the sight of your 
sister unclothed shouldn't be so much of a wonder."  The breeze 
caught the glinting loops that dangled from his finger, and Nagi 
released the trapped strand to the wind, an offering of sorts to the 
sylphs.  It was only fair.  

"You know...he's rather amusing like this," said Nagi to his fairy 
lover.  "Shall we do something with him, Savil?  Something naughty?  
Something...tame?"  

***

As Saffie went about pondering this, her elder sibling bent and began 
to chew on one of her curls, one again oblivious to her undressed 
state.  Twice she made to shoo him away, and twice he returned to 
nibbling her tresses.  The third time, she finally resorted to putting 
her finger in his mouth.  He sucked it like a pacifier.  

"I think we should do something both naughty AND tame!"

Here she gave her consort an enigmatic grin, daring him to figure out 
just what in the world was both of his proffered delights.  On the 
heels of this expression though, ::It's actually fairly easy to shock a 
telepath.  The only special circumstance is that they have to do it to 
themselves.  Which isn't nearly as hard as it sounds, just rare and 
kinda...::

In mid-thought, she found herself quite cut off by a yelp from 
Schuldich, who detached his lips from her and took off across the 
garden, cooing at a lacewing that had passed by him.

"At the very least, we should take pictures for Bradley- a whole 
portfolio of them! We'll call it the 's' portfolio- that's 'S' as in 
'Schuldich' and 'stoned' and 'pretty' in Japanese slang." 

***

"That's...naughty, nice, and illegal.  And Crawford *might* be 
surprised.  You covered all the bases, Savil."  Nagi gave her a shy 
little smile along with his single, assenting nod.  "I say we do 
it."  

The little girl clapped once in delight, and images of their room 
popped into his head in an instant.  She led him through the door, to 
the closet, to a black garment bag that hung on the left end of the 
rod, one he knew to be empty of clothing.  Thanks to her, he now knew 
it wasn't empty of *everything*.  

/I understand./  

Savil's laugh bubbled into his thoughts, shaking away the pictures 
she'd given him.  Nagi turned towards the church, and picked out her 
window.  Hands outstretched in a line before his face, he pressed his 
fingers together to focus, and closed his eyes, just as he was taught 
to do when performing more elaborate tasks.  

In his mind's eye, he was actually opening the window, opening the 
closet door and unzipping the bag.  The camera--a compact 
sort a professional would carry about for impromptu shoots--was lying 
in a leather case within.  Nagi took it out, case and all, and carried 
it out of the room through the window, down over the garden to where 
he stood.  When he opened his eyes, the camera was lying on the 
grass at his feet.  Nagi scooped it up and handed it to Savil.

***

As Savil twiddled the controls on her chibified Sony, the sounds of 
inebriated giggles continued to run wiggled around her, presumably 
chasing the lacewing.  Presumably- the bug happened to dart past her, 
going in the opposite direction Schuldich was headed.

A pat on Nagi's arm then, as she confirmed his tongue-firmly-in-cheek 
suspicions.

::Whatever he's after he's hallucinated.  Just pretend he's not there 
until I get this ready- damn manual focus- this thing's set for 
surveillance photos!::

The elder telepath just then forgot of the existence of the ruined 
wall, and, as such, tumbled over it at least halfway.  He landed with a 
laugh, and his bum firmly planted in the air.

His sister proved good enough at this point to shout "aha!" which 
besides announcing that she had gotten her camera to behave, caught his 
attention after a few moments, and got him to squirm just enough that 
his face was in the picture she snapped.

"Wheeeee! I like having my picture taken! Do it again! Do it 
ahgaaaaaain!"

When he clapped, he lost what balance he happened to have, and squashed 
a plum in once more acquainting himself with the ground.

Saffie, though obliging his request, quite dryly remarked, ::This is 
too easy.:: and subsequently- "Oh look, that lacewing you were chasing 
seems to have landed on Nagi-chan's nose."

Schuldich wasted no time in bounding over for inspection, plum-bedecked 
shirt and all.

***

"Quick!  Before it...!  Ohhhh," Nagi moaned, looking all 
disappointed.  "It got away.  Flew off towards the lilies."  

Schuldich stared stupidly at his clenched fist (with which he'd 
grabbed the air a good seven inches from Nagi's face), then lurched 
back to stare at the nodding lilies that bordered the clearing.  
Hands stealing over his chest, Nagi moved close to him again, and 
undid the first button of his shirt.  At the touch of his fingertips 
on his bare skin, the redhead whirled about and fixed him with 
dilated eyes.  

"I've heard," Nagi began in confidential tones, "that lacewings 
really love plums.  Since you have plum splattered on your shirt, you 
could use that as a net."  The last button slipped out of its hole, 
and the shirt fell open.  Nagi peeled the fruit-coated fabric from 
his skin, and swiped a finger in the sticky pulp that clung to him.  

"And if you catch it, I'll give you a treat," he added, holding his 
gaze and slipping his finger in his mouth to lick it clean.  

***

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm! Treeeeeeeeat!" purred Schuldich, and this asserted, he 
took off once again across the clearing, spraying tiny flecks of fruit 
every which way as he ran, the shirt in his hands flailing wildly as he 
went.  Saffie, behind her camera, sang and tittered, but didn't exactly 
laugh; her concentration was keeping her from that. And there were just 
so many possible pictures all winging their way past her.

She only took one frivolous one, and how could she have resisted it? 
Nagi with his finger in his pouty little mouth.  It only kept her a 
moment, and then the elder telepath was singing, but to whom, no one 
knew.  Doubtless, not even Schuldich.  

"Treat treat treat! I get to have a treat.  It'll be all mine and 
special happy treat like chocolate coke! Heeeeeeeeeeeere lil lacewiing.  
I'm going to get a treat for you."

Of course, the only thing in their world which received any at that 
moment happened to be the grim reaper of lilies, for quite a few of 
them meant very unpleasant ends as Schuldich stomped right into their 
bed and sent stems cracking behind him.

Dainty step by step, the photographer drew up beside her lover, and 
raised him an eyebrow between snaps.  Oh, they didn't need thoughts 
then, didn't need words! Didn't need anything but those two, decorously 
elevated golden lines to express themselves.  This while they had 
thoughts! And they had words! And they had...

...very shortly a picture of Schuldich which was fated to ever live its 
life without a mate, for there was none like it in all the world, and 
never would be, ever again.  It was a beast! A full-fledged, French-
speaking, yellow-eyed beast somehow returned from the artic to have one 
last naughty rendezvous with fate, for in it were blended the follies 
of a thousand men, science! CHEMICALS! And general stupidity.

For the poor, poor lacewing, or one much like it, happened to have 
settled in the lilies true.  By chance, and the swinging of the ruined 
lilac shirt, it found itself gummed to the fabric, just barely, but 
enough to keep it long enough for its captor to draw its form close, 
close, close to his drippy eyes.

"Cool..." he said, and smirked all viscous at it.

Of course by then it had managed to work itself free of the congealing 
juice, and as such, went flying forward with all of it's little 
lacewing strength.

Right up Schuldich's nose.

The screams could be heard as far away as La Pamplemousse Rouge.  

***

As everyone in Valdemar but Ran knew, when Primera said she was taking 
someone swimming, she really meant "shopping", and that when she, 
conversely, said she meant to go shopping, she was sure to be swimming.  
Such was gossip, and her somewhat failed strategy to extricate herself 
from its maze of bedchambers.  

Not that it wasn't a lovely enough day to have gone for a dip- the 
atmosphere gleamed gentle spring blue, the air itself joining in and 
the clouds were only passing by.  The Duke of Memoria had once again 
flooded his dead flowers, and then, for no reason, hung the threads of 
a nineteen eighties Mylar wig on them.  Goldberry was having momentary 
sales for anyone whose shoes he liked, and all of the antique dealers 
had left their shops unguarded so they might slip off and discuss the 
uncharacteristic summer weather.  As such, the former prostitutes were 
all having a raid, which meant greeting every soul who met them on 
their ways down the various alleys of Valdemar, their stolen goods in 
hand.  

"Oh, you're quite right! Smashing, smashing day!" Prim called back to 
one who'd been good enough to tip his hat to her, and call her Ms. 
Daemon- it was only a word that meant she had been born on Terra, no 
more, and she liked it a lot.  

Her companion- at least the one in Bermuda shots, a tank top with glow 
worms on it, and a man's waistcoat, giggled and scampered off for a 
moment to purchase a fresh, yellow apple from a vender who had appeared 
around the corner.  They all stopped for Paul, Paul being Primera's 
little sister, a girl not much younger than Fiona, with green-pepper 
eyes and the same silver hair as all the Blackworth women.  Fiona 
didn't think she cared much for the little scamp.  Especially not when 
she came back counting her change whilst holding the fruit clamped 
between her lips, letting juice from it leak all over her thin, droopy 
neck.

"Mmmmmmm!" She said.  "You wanna bite, Fiona?"

"Ah, no... thanks! I'm gonna wait and have cake with tea.  Sure as hell 
ain't gonna get any tonight."

Much to her surprise, the elder Blackworth sibling actually giggled at 
this remark, rather than clonking her over the head with her newest 
pink and white striped hatbox.  "I do believe you're right! At least 
not cake the way you're thinking of cake."

She had something planned that didn't involve such dainties, that much 
was obvious.  Paul seemed to be in on it too, and chuckled accordingly. 

No, not cake the way Fiona thought of cake at all, but she followed, 
just the same, down past the lane of the chatting antique dealers and a 
path of juniper bushes that pulled off the road and into someone's 
hidden garden, many steps away.

"You know, Fiona, dear, there's no reason you have to stay with us all 
day.  Why, tea isn't until three." Mostly because at three, Lady 
Jessica was making a formal visit to a Duke who lived on the edge of 
town, so all the staff in her tearoom would be in a much better mood.  
"If you want to run off for awhile, we wouldn't mind."

"So long's you're not late," added Paul.

"Ah... maybe then..."

Maybe because she had just spied something very interesting in the 
window of Little Rabbit's Cabbage Patch of Bric-a-brac.  Something 
which, beyond the name of the shop, beyond the day too happy for a 
grumpy bear to like, seemed like something a grumpy bear indeed might 
fancy.  She wondered how it had gotten there.

***

Thirty steamy, soapy minutes later, Ran and Ken were back in Ran's 
bedroom, sitting on a twin mattress the whores had missed during 
their pre-bonfire raid on the Villa's many spare guest rooms. In the 
week he'd been living there, he'd removed the gaudy pink paper from 
one wall, and had been toying with the idea of repainting; in one 
corner of the room sat a brand new can of white primer atop a 
wooden fruit crate. Fanned around it lay several color sample cards; 
varying shades and tints of blue and green. A reclaimed black 
lacquered shelf held his books. A low table sat alongside the 
mattress, between it and the wall, and held a squat brown jar lamp 
with orange trim and a radio he'd found in the cupboard in the 
Villa's main kitchen. The window, he had left uncurtained, and at 
that moment the split panes stood wide open, a dainty, thrift-store 
salvaged brass bell chime ringing in the breeze, accompanied by the 
rustling of the wisteria vines which framed the left side of the 
portal. 

He'd chosen to wear a short sleeved shirt of sateen, which flickered 
from deep violet to a emerald in the light, like the throat of a 
hummingbird would in the sunshine; a pair of straight-legged jeans, 
brand new and still *very* dark blue. Rubies glittered like tears in 
his right ear, Aya's earring swung from his left, same as before. 
It bounced against his neck as Ken worked the brush down that side of 
his head, spreading his eartail out and then flicking it back. 

"I never knew you'd like them so much." 

Ken only chuckled, and whisked that tail behind his ear, fingering 
the dangling earring as he leaned in to kiss him. Ran fought the 
urge to swat his hand away from it. Instead, he twisted around so he 
could look at Ken, interrupting the other's play. 

"I think you said something about poetry?" 

Ken, looking a touch baffled, nodded, and Ran left the mattress for 
the shelf. His hand immediately fell upon one chunky paperback. Ran 
carried it back over to the mattress, kneeling down beside him with 
the book's front cover turned towards him. A ukiyoe style picture of 
a pair of parasol-toting geisha stared back at him, heads together as 
if sharing a secret. 

"I think there's enough in here to satiate your hunger for Japanese 
verse, Hidaka-dono."

***
  

Ken had changed back into his sky-blue party clothing right after their 
shower except that the first flower in his hair, now crushed and lying 
in little floral threads around the pillows, they had replaced with a 
pale iris, not blue perhaps, but close enough for him.  It had leaked a 
little pollen onto his ear as he moved, but so far, neither of them had 
noticed.

Just then he rubbed his eyes before slinking over the edge of the bed, 
claiming the place where he was close to Ran as he had been before the 
other boy had gone after his book.  He was still in a bit of a drippy 
daze, for he'd gone quite lost in brushing his lover's hair.

As he drew nearer, he twined one downy, crimson eartail around his 
fingers. "Mmm, I think you're right! I kinda wish that..."

/You wouldn't call me Hidaka-dono./

"Aaa, betsuni."

He'd noticed something besides the inquisitive little look Ran had 
given him.  The book of poems he tugged on a little, tilting the image 
it wore this way and that before leaning over after the hair brush he 
had set aside.  This he took, and clasped between both of his hands, 
tipping the bristles this way and that as he imagined they were 
something much, much longer he certainly didn't want to bump himself 
with.  Satisfied with the way it sat in his hands at last, he leaned 
over against Ran, mimicking the pose of one of the geishas exactly.

They were almost cheek to cheek like that, so he supposed, "Do you 
think we should take those umbrellas your friend gave us along 
outside then?" 

***
  
"Umbrellas on a sunny day?  Hmm...Why not?  Maybe it would be a good 
idea if we always carried them whenever we go strolling about the 
Villa grounds. You never know when I might want to do something like 
this..." He ran the edge of one petal along Ken's lower lip, and 
down his chin to tickle his throat, "with some stray flower."  

The iris fluttered to the mattress, and Ran loosely draped an arm 
around Ken's waist, ducking down to skim the skin of one partially 
covered shoulder with his lips; rose a little and grazed his adam's 
apple in the same manner.  

"We might do many things behind those umbrellas."  

***

"Of course, doin' things like this..." and here Ken, rather than 
continue with his thought, rose up on his knees and caught Ran between 
the bristles of the hair brush and his lips, stroking one eartail as 
he kissed the other one down along his lover's cheeks.  "...is even 
NAUGHTIER behind umbrellas!"

A tiny nip to the other boy's cheek then, and he had bounded to his 
feet and scampered for the doorway, leaving the hapless iris behind 
with a few fleeting thoughts it was really very sill of him to think he 
could possibly get a flower to stay in his hair for very long at all.  

Ran gave chase of course, and would have caught him at the bottom of 
the steps had it not been for the black and fluorescent indigo which 
unfurled as he crossed the bottom steps, and spun at his appearance in 
mock threats.

Ken didn't seem especially capable of doing anything just then besides 
spinning the umbrella.  "Mwahaha! Thwarted by my evil umbre-... GOOD 
GRIEF! Ah... no offense to your friend Lord Vyx but... wow.  These are 
LOUD!"

***

"*He's* pretty loud.  Feather-bedecked cavalier hats and all shades 
of purple...Well, you'll see.  I invited him to come over tonight. 
Neglecting to tell him, of course, that the little party we were 
throwing was on behalf of my birthday."  For a moment, Ran looked 
like the cat who'd ate the canary; he'd gotten one over on Prim and 
Yuriko, in a way, and he was quite pleased.  "I didn't want him to 
make a fuss," he explained in answer to his lover's disapproving 
huff.  "I'm sure you understand why."  

Ran flicked the edge of one purple swirling flap for emphasis.  "He 
gave us these for gifts for no reason: Imagine what he might have 
given me tonight.  Imagine," he said, "what he might give you on your 
birthday.  Considering you are the Dono of Valdemar, it'll probably 
be something utterly outrageous."  

Regarding the spinning bumbershoot, Ken blanched.  The gaudily 
patterened dome collapsed on itself, and Ran touched ground at last 
upon the foyer's stony floor.  He plucked Lord Vyx's gift to Ken out 
of the brass stand in one corner, opened it, and tutted in mock 
horror.  

"And now, if you are finished threatening me with your Tot-inspired 
battle moves," he said, shutting the cheerily-patterned umbrella and 
swinging it onto his shoulder, "shall we go?"    

***

Ken nodded, and yet when his lover started down the hall, didn't follow 
right away, but stood, still gazing down on the rumpled roof of the 
umbrella, letting it sail from one of his hands to the other before he 
took off after the sunlit shadow of the other boy.  He poked him 
lightly in the back with the tip of the final where the metal spires 
were set, giggling, "What a cute name!"

Ran clapped his hand over his mouth, and took off then, the other boy 
skipping through the winking traces of his heels as the day left them 
behind.  They laughed, and for awhile, it seemed the hall would never 
decide to end and spoil their fun.  If did of course, no matter what 
either of them might have wished.  They burst out of it and onto the 
serene lake of the mirror the Villa's lobby wore. 

It was hard to tell from there if it was only late morning, or early 
afternoon, for towards the middle of the day, a comforting, cool 
stillness came over the immense chamber, leaving it with no shades 
itself, and no ribbons of brightness.  And it was so quiet their steps 
barely echoed on the glass under foot, though glass indeed it was. Ken 
crossed into the curlicue space beneath one of the swans of their 
staircase, and paused a moment to scratch his head, look up into the 
wings of her banisters.  No, they weren't really swans at all, and 
didn't much look like them... not really. 

And it occurred to him then that he was really glad Ran had a friend! 
Even one who liked tawdry umbrellas a lot. But then again, what sort of 
friend was Ran supposed to have? He'd never met one of his lover's OWN 
companions before.  No, there had only been the ones they shared 
before.

For the second time that day, Ken went giddy and syrupy inside with 
anticipation.

Then Ran poked HIM in the back.    

***

"You are daydreaming again," Ran said, swinging his umbrella back 
onto his shoulder. "About what, I wonder." He regarded the carved, 
not-quite swans, just briefly, then his lover. Looked as if he were 
trying not to smile as he strolled off towards the side hallway with 
its glass and fairy light trees. Ken caught up to him just as he 
reached its yawning mouth, and his hand found Ran's. 

Only the sound of their shuffling feet on the mirrored floor fell 
upon the air, the two ex-Weiss saying not a word at all as they made 
their way to the garden. The hallway, with its high, vaulted ceiling, 
its well-spaced arches, seemed as if it was plucked block by white 
marble block from a cathedral; an oddity in a land without religion. 
Even though it wasn't representative of his own, Ran thought it was 
beautiful. And it was--but it was nothing in comparison with the rear 
wall of the villa. 

The light only trickled through the glass at that hour, throwing 
jeweled reflections onto the icy walls at a slant. Though he'd never 
cared much for angels, Aya had thought the old European masters' 
interpretations of them beautiful, and so this day, he paid careful 
attention to the design--especially to one such window in particular: 
Hundreds of angels slipping free from multitudes of grasping, 
sneering demons, to soar through a sky blazing with light. All sorts, 
all shapes; dark and fair. As his eyes tracked across the scene, he 
marveled over how much work and care had gone into the great pane's 
creation. 

And then he forgot all them, about their creator, even, when he 
noticed one angel in particular. A dark-haired boy in profile, 
hovering just above the ground with one arm outstretched to the 
heavens, the other in the clawed clutches of a demon who lurked just 
in the corner of the frame. Something about the way the angel's 
tousled locks spun about his face, the sorrowful, yearning look he 
wore... 

Ran stopped; Ken did not. The dark-haired boy turned to look at him, 
and suddenly let out a yelp when Ran grabbed him by the chin without 
so much as an apology. He nudged him back into profile, looking from 
him, to the glass. 

"It's you."

***

Ken stood staring back at Ran, just shy of the other boy's fingers, and 
with his hand cupped over his chin where it had been held.  No, he 
wasn't hurt at all, just startled, looking at his lover as if he had 
spoken to him with all of his words uttered backwards.  As the seconds 
wore on, his puzzlement slowly became a sort of disbelieving anger, 
even as the blue from the angel's eyes followed the arc of the sun down 
to the earth, materializing against his cheek rather than the tremulous 
glitter that now and then leaked from the make believe branches all 
about the inner walls of the aisle.  

"What are you...?"

But before he ever got to finish his words, the other boy took him by 
the shoulder, and drew him around until it was the window that filled 
his sight now.

He had no chance to shake away Ran's palm, but rather rested his own 
against it, as he drew nearer to the faint glow of the glass.  

For there he saw himself, looking away to the clouds of St. Helen's 
glass, and the incursions of the real clouds outside, just the size he 
was in form only wrapped in fine lines of dark iron in the first 
colored panel that crept into the back wall as it ran into the hall and 
curved away from the main frieze of the lobby.  He was naked there, but 
for a few ripples of lily and blue silk, and the three pairs of 
feathered snow-white wings that burst from his shoulders and his back.  
Through them showed speckles of the outside world, and then again, 
beneath his own reflection, for where he and his lover stood, the floor 
was still dancing with crystals of the full mirror just beyond the 
arcade.     

He drew near the image, his gaze illuminated with disbelief, and once 
he had the portrait within reach, he held one hand up, and brushed it 
over the tip of his wings.

In the reflection underneath his feet of course, the wings, happened to 
be settled on his real shoulders where Ran's hand should have been 
covered with translucent feathers.  

"Wow..."

***

"Vyx-sama caught you perfectly.  He must have studied you from afar 
even before he was approached to do the windows.  I wonder...I wonder 
what he thought when he saw it.  If he really saw it."  

Ran dropped his gaze from his lover, and stepped back again, staring 
at himself in the mirrored expanse under his feet.  "I was right.  
There's something in you that will always stay innocent, no matter 
what you do, no matter what anyone does to you.  Even if you don't 
notice it, everyone else does."  

***

In time, from the last of Ran's breath, his gaze within the grand 
mirror was joined by a second, one that trickled slowly into the 
nonspace of the glass.  Ken's eyes were dark cerulean manifested 
against the brilliant blue topaz, the cream of his skin set alight by 
imaginary heavens.

"I can tell the portrait's meant to be three years younger than I am 
now... but y'know? I don't feel three years older.  I don't think I ever 
will an'... that's not what you were talkin' about, right?"

So he nodded with or without an answer and he spoke, brash and loud 
enough that his words echoed.  "I want five pairs of wings! Even if 
they would get in the way.  So even if you have wings too, I'd get 
enough lift that I could pick you up and carry you with me wherever I 
go!"

And now, without any Ran angel for his hands to steal about, he 
stooped, and ran his hands through the reflections of his ear tails, 
whistling, marveling at how one glassing's motion left no trace upon 
the other. "Would I still be innocent, if I did somethin' so bad?" 

***

"Yes," Ran deadpanned to Ken's reflection. "Even if you dropped 
me." 

In the glass, Ken looked ready to utter some protest, but whatever 
he wanted to say never found its way into words. The boy 
just flushed and gave him a sheepish little grin, the sort that 
always made a deep ache rise in Ran's chest. 

Ran just wanted to hold him, for all the times he dared not touch 
him. He did so until Ken's own hold on him relaxed, and then, he 
kissed him deeply, a taste of all his long-pent up need. 

"Wings or no wings," he murmured once he'd released him, "no one can 
hold you back anymore."

***

"It'd still be real nice to have 'em," replied Ken as he drew back 
along the windowed wall once more, and this time pointed up at his 
image there, his hand mimicking the swerves of the imaginary plumes 
there.  "And he thinks so too.  Least I think he does."

They both shrugged, and umbrellas once more slung over their backs, 
they followed the steadily fading windows all the way to the place 
where they gave out before pair of doors- two leaded panels, spangled 
with pale prisms that crept out of the clear pieces, and into the milky 
ones.  They were each though set with a single fantastic flower- one a 
neat, pudgy, black conflagration of petals, and the other a slim 
abstract of white and far too many stamens.

They passed this without a second look, for the motif was nothing 
uncommon compared to the rest of the work Lord Vyx had left behind.  
Beyond lay the hills, with their dusting of guesthouses that gave out 
in one direction to the forest, and the other only sky.  Valdemar 
itself stood hidden behind the curtains of stone and colored glass.

The two of them drew down the path to the gazebo; found the swing there 
to be drifting this way and that in the breeze.  Ran ascended the 
steps, and took his seat there, looking back to where he had come from; 
where Ken had paused to admire the sleeping Cream Lassies on the 
wisteria where it wound around the yellow roses.   One awakened long 
enough to give him a world-weary glance and wiggle its antennae at 
him.  

Ken just rolled his eyes, and his open umbrella made a clatter as it 
fell to the side of the latticework.  Without it, he flopped down 
beside his lover and shamelessly laid his head in his lap.

***

"Comfortable?" Ran asked matter-of-factly, to which Ken nodded 
emphatically, giggling.  He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, and 
flipped open the book, balancing it on the swing's wide armrest.  

"Let's see...Shall I go at random?"  he peered down at Ken, who 
murmured his assent.  Ran flipped forward a few pages, and read the 
first poem his eyes lit upon.    

"In the summer evening,
Where is my star hidden in the Milky Way."  

He paused, smiling somewhat sadly at the page before him, as that 
poem brought back more than a few memories.  His mother had liked 
haiku as well, and Issa had been one of her favorite poets. 

"Quietness--
It is the summit of the clouds that can be seen at the bottom of the 
lake."  

Ran tapped his fingers over the page, then flipped 
the book forward to yet another poet's work, this time something 
written by Murasaki Shikibu.  

"This life of ours would not cause you sorrow 
if you thought of it as like 
the mountain cherry blossoms 
which bloom and fade in a day."

And then, one last, by a different poet, Lady Outomo, and a far more 
romantic work.   

"How fine you are!
So thinks my heart
In a rushing torrent
And though I dam it up,
Soon, 'tis sure to burst."  

And Ran dropped a hand to Ken's chest to clutch one of the hands he 
had folded there.  "Shall I go on?" he asked, not raising his eyes 
from the book.  

***

As he nuzzled his nose into Ran's shirt, he thought it was only natural 
the tiny, glittering poems would have such a peculiar effect upon his 
lover, why, wasn't that what they existed for? What the poets had felt 
centuries ago, and let dart into such pearly cages of words? To him 
they were only pretty! But he was no poet, just a midnight dilettante.  
It was his companion who had one such soul.

"Mnnnnn... my turn," he caroled, and without so much as implying a 
question, reached up and plucked the book from Ran's fingers, leaving 
his hand stranded on his body, and his own palms in mid air, the pages 
ripping between them in the breeze.

"Spring night
A flute player
Passes by."

Oh, how novel it would be to actually see a flute player passing by 
somewhere! Such things did not even happen on Terra that he knew of. 

"I went out on the Spring
To gather the young herbs.
So many petals were falling
Drifting in confused flight
That I lost my way."

It sounded like Tsurayuki-san was alone in that one, but wouldn't it 
have been nice to get lost like that WITH someone? And spend the whole 
time just brushing the flowers out of their hair, over and over and 
over? But you had to read that into the few lines.

He read aloud the next romantic one he came across.

"In the dusk
The road is hard to see.
Wait 'till moonrise
So I can watch you go."

It seemed familiar... he half thought he had read that one before in 
school, even if it didn't sound at all like a school sort of poem! And 
there were no more by the girl who had written it.  How odd.  He 
imagined being remembered in his life for one poem, just one.  His 
thoughts so wandering, he accidentally spoke a rather melancholy work...

"In the dusk the path
You used to come to me
Is overgrown and indistinguishable,
Except for the spider webs
That hang across it
Like threads of sorrow."

But at least it was the good kind of melancholy! Hurriedly, he thumbed 
through after something else, something... culpable, and sexy!

"We dressed each other
Hurrying to say farewell
In the depth of night.
Our drowsy thighs touched ad we
Were caught in bed by the dawn."

But over the last few words, he began to laugh, color coming up around 
his throat like a schoolboy who still almost fears the sight of a bare-
chested woman.  Through chuckles then:

"I do not care if
Our lovemaking is exposed
As the rainbow over
The Yasaka dam at Ikaho
If only I can suck and suck you.

"Now that's a haiku!"

(OOC: Poems by... Masaoka Shiki, Ki No Tsurayuki, Oyakeme- Girl of 
Buzen, Izumi Shikibu [who knew Murasaki Shikibu], The Empress Eifuku, 
and, not surprisingly, Anonymous.)

***

"Pervert," Ran murmured, but the trickle of an impish smile he gave 
him belied his displeased tone.  Of course, by that time, Ran had 
unfastened the last two buttons of Ken's vest and had a hand curled 
around his side, and so might have done much to make his labeling of 
Ken hypocritical.  Not that Ken seemed to mind, for the brunet 
laughed, and reached up to tug at one eartail.  

"You're tempting me."    

***

Ken looked down to find himself at least partially devested for the 
second time that day.  His gaze darted up into the sky where the white 
roof of the gazebo blocked it for an instant then, only to come 
tumbling, tumbled down back to Ran's.  "Woul it's your birthday!" he 
pretend pouted.  "You're SUPPOSEDTA be tempted, at least a little, 
riiiiight?"

To this, his lover muttering in assent somewhere west of non-committal.

It made them both sigh a little.  "I'll stop of ya want." He found 
though that he really had no desire to do so.  After all, what if he 
ended up pushed off Ran's lap and into the grass with the sleeping 
crickets that had played all last night? Surely, they wouldn't be 
happy, and while everything about rolling on the ground made him feel 
at home and wild, Ran really did have the most comfortable lap.  As the 
wind stirred the edge of his vest to slip off the edge of the swing, he 
rubbed his cheek against the other boy's thigh for a moment, and then 
read again, simply because the book remained.

"The years have touched me
I worry that I grow frail with age.
But I only need to see
Your flower like beauty
For all anxiety and heaviness
To leave me."

(OOC: That's a Fujiwara no Okikaze.)

***

All was quiet at the poem's end, save for the lonely creaking of the 
swing's chains, the shuffle of Ran's feet on the boards as he strove 
to keep the bench in motion. Despite his earlier, half-teasing 
complaint, Ran hadn't ceased his idle stroking of Ken's stomach, nor 
did he intend to. His skin felt too good for him not to touch him, 
all warm and velvety like cream. How could he help but indulge 
himself? 

Ran took the book from his lover's hand, and lay it on the tiny table 
that stood nearby, resuming his stroking of his brow as he slumped in 
his seat. It was such a drowsy, contented day; rarely had he been so 
happy in his young life as he was then. 

And happiness always had a way of loosening his tongue. 

"I...want to ask you," he tentatively began, tilting his eyes to the 
whitewashed ceiling above them. "How did you get those scars on your 
back?"

***

/I feel like a cat... in a good way for once!/

After awhile, and a few breaths of the breeze come scampering through 
the roses, and into Ken's hair, made him think for one reason or 
another he must feel as dreamy to the touch as to his own mind.

Just to prove he wasn't that far gone though, he rubbed up against the 
hand that lay supine upon his forehead before he settled on anything to 
say.  It took him a moment to remembered he'd made no secret of the 
fire, and none of who had been responsible, but he'd never really 
connected the two, or offered more than vague mumbles as far as 
elaboration went.

As if merely mentioning the color of a passing cloud, he said his 
piece, "Oh, the warehouse fire.  I know they sure don't LOOK like burn 
marks and all- not all... err... rippley.  I guess that's what you'd 
call it.  Anyway, after onea the guys whacked me upside the head a 
coupla times, they doused me with lighter fluid b'sides everything 
else.  That's how come I got those swirls-like down at the base of 
my spine and the ones kinda down at my side there..."

With those words between them now, Ran nodded a little, and his palm 
slipped away from Ken's navel, coming to rest just at the rim of the 
long, shiny-smooth arcs of the scars.  

"Those actually *aren't* from whatever they poured on me though.  
Synthetic sweater I had on melted an' stuck fast.  I was so glad I 
passed out.  Surprised Youji never told you how I usedta bitch about 
it, for months afterward.  I couldn't stand to lie flat on my back for 
almost a year."

But right then, that year was more than worth his sleepless nights, the 
chilly afternoons spent shirtless, just to find himself on the swing 
with Ran, able to look up at him without having to twist his neck funny  
or clamber up on his elbows.

***

"Youji did mention it, actually. But all he told me was that you 
were in an accident, and he wasn't comfortable talking about it, so..." 
The sentence ended with a shrug. "Your past is yours to share or 
conceal. I didn't want to pry. And no," he added at the sight of 
Ken's cocked brow, "trailing you everywhere isn't prying." 

The brunet chuckled as if he thought otherwise. Ran combed Ken's 
long bangs down over his eyes to annoy him in return. He settled 
back again when his lover shook off his hand, closing his eyes 
briefly to another vine rustling breeze. Opened them again when he 
felt Ken's fingers curl in the hem of his shirt, and glanced down at 
the boy in his lap. He wore a look of expectation. 

"I guess you want to hear my stories now?" 

Ken emphatically nodded; Ran brushed his scattered bangs away from 
his face with a tiny smile. "Okay. I'll tell you. This," he began, 
patting his right shoulder, "is where Sakura-chan shot me. 
Well...you were there. I don't need to get into that..." 

Ran dropped his hand to his own stomach, smoothing his palm flat 
across the shifting fabric. "This, though, happened when I was in 
the Crashers. We were on a mission, Knight and I, and, though we 
weren't supposed to use our weapons, weren't supposed to actually 
kill--I chose to fight, to allow Knight to chase our target, though 
he protested my decision. I guess I should have listened, but...A 
mission wasn't a mission unless I could spill someone's blood, never 
was. 

"Anyway...My opponent, actually a bodyguard to the man we were 
tailing, carried a pair of wakizashi. I couldn't see how he would be 
able to fight with any success, and there I made a grave 
miscalculation. His skill, his speed, proved to be a match for mine, 
and, though I managed to get a few strikes on him, he managed to 
seriously cut me. Locked one sword with mine, and stabbed me with 
the other. I had thought he'd disemboweled me. I had thought I was 
going to die." He frowned at the memory. "I passed out, curled up 
on the ground, in so much pain. I could only think about...Aya.  But 
then, I always think about her, no matter what I do." 

Ran fell quiet for a moment, then swept his hand over his face, 
twirling his eartails over his ears. "I don't know how I got to the 
hospital, don't remember anyone bringing me, though it turned out 
that someone had sent an ambulance to get me. When I woke the next 
day, all that happened was that Queen came by to scold me for my 
insubordinance, said it would go on my record." Ran snorted 
softly. "As if I really cared."


(Ooc: wakizashi are short swords.)

***

It was so Kritiker that, sending a secretary to bully a sick boy about 
a record no one would ever see.  Anyway, that was how Ken remembered 
records: we'll do this to them, we'll do that.  But no one did 
anything, and nothing mattered outside of the fact someone said they 
mattered! But such had been Weiss. And that now, as he turned and 
looked out over the mint and buttery blue stitches of the horizon where 
the nodding weeds let the two sides wobble in and out of one another, 
was literally a million miles away now.  

What wasn't, what he hoped with everything he had wasn't- Aya-chan.  He 
wanted so dearly to meet her, to tell her he loved her no matter what 
(well... not the same way he loved Ran of course! Better clarify that 
when the time came!) to be there in the morning when the light first 
fell on her hair, and in the evening when the moon sprites sat around 
the three of them while he read every fairytale he knew to her.  

Or maybe he could read her his poem. She wouldn't mind, surely! And she 
certainly wouldn't say mean things to him, open eyes or not. The 
thought he might not ever see her in his arms chilled him more than his 
own moments close to death had.  Then again, in both of those- the 
warehouse fire and the collapse of the Estet building -he hadn't 
exactly been completely conscious.  

Silly or not it was, that he adored her from afar; wanted to be there 
for her as much as Ran did, wished to be, even when death came and 
nibbled his ears.  And of Ran right then, right there with him, he 
reached into the other boy's shirt, and petted him there, stirring 
whatever reverie of him there was.    

"I still say it's a pretty scar," he insisted.  "'s nice to touch.  
But... the guy who did it's dead now, right?"

His lover nodded quite simply.

"Good.  I s'pose Yuuji saved me the trouble?"

Oh the affirmation of this, Ken sighed happily, though his mind had 
once more wandered away from him and he found in him some vague wish to 
know Yuuji too, whoever Yuuji was.  He knew it as almost perfectly 
impossible though, and let it go away no sooner than it had risen to 
meet him.

Ran was still looking somewhat displeased with him though.  No wonder, 
all his silences, he certainly came off like he didn't know what to 
say! "Well... I can be as gallant for you an' Aya as I want! I don't 
have no stinkin' record to worry about anymore!" 

***

"You want to be gallant for Aya?  Good.  You can help me redo her 
bedroom."  

His lover's face lit up.

"So you agree?"  he asked, skimming Ken's cheek with his 
knuckles.  "I mean, I'll pay for the paint and the curtains.  There's 
bound to be some furniture we could use...maybe stain it dark."  Ran 
smiled.  "She found a picture once in a magazine of a room with taupe 
walls and cream lace curtains over white framed windows, and fell in 
love with the scheme.  I was thinking maybe we could give her her 
wish." 

***

"Sure!" Ken burst out.

As for his lover, he didn't seem TOO surprised.  Then again, though it 
might have struck him funny once.  What was the point in quieting his 
voice, Ken thought, if the only person around means to know all of you?  
Speaking of which, he told him something then, out of the blue- "I'm 
not too bad with those roller things, y'know.  I usually get as much 
paint on myself as I do the walls, but the walls turn out pretty good.  
And hey, if I screw up, Prim loves that kinda stuff- she can help.  But 
just a little."

When he smiled, he took the tip of Ran's finger into his mouth, and 
kissed all around the nail before letting it go.

"But for your sister, just about anythin' I can do."

With one last simper, he slipped into a memory of something besides 
paint though- other than the overalls, colored with something far 
different than the sitting room he'd left back in Niigata.

"Say, what kinda plushies does she like? There's the *best* little 
stuffed animal shop over by the milliners." But he gasped then at his 
lover's raised brow, and his eyes grew wide as saucers.  "Not that I've 
been in it or anything! I just heard, y'know!" 

***

"Uh-huh.  I suppose you overheard some of the whores talking about it 
the other day.  Or maybe Carly-sama gave it her written seal of 
approval."  

Ken gave him a "You're a smartass" sort of look, which Ran blandly 
returned.  

"Can't lie to me, Ken," he said smugly.  "I know you too well."  

At that, the boy blushed a bit, huffing.  He dug his fingers into 
Ran's stomach just a little, thin nails nibbling at his skin, and Ran 
slapped lightly at his forearm.  "If you want to play a bit rough 
with me, we'll do it--later.  Right now, we are talking about Aya and 
stuffies."  

Ken uncurled his fingers, and began to trace over his old, jagged 
scar.  Ran sagged back in the seat, and renewed his efforts to keep 
the swing in motion.  "Now...as I recall, she was partial to kittens, 
rabbits, and pegasoi.  Had a green one of the latter, a fairly large 
one, which she kept on her bed.  On the shelf above her desk, she had 
a pair of floppy white kittens, and a pastel pink rabbit with 
a...with a blue satin ribbon around it's neck."  

"Think we can find anything like that there?"  
      
***

"Shouldn't be a problem," Ken nodded after a moment's musing on the 
idea.  "Heard their specialty was mermaids though."

They couldn't help but exchange curious glances at this.  Mermaids? 
Sold in a shop that happened to stand alongside a street in a world 
where most of the populous cared for men? One such town that wasn't 
especially close to water even! It must surely have been for the 
absurdity of it all! And perhaps the joy of something pretty and 
pointless to sling across one's empty chairs.

"Rabbits must be a LOT easier than mermaids- not that we couldn't get 
her half the shop worth of stuffies to fill her bed." 

And laughed, both because it must have sounded silly of him, and 
because it occurred to him then that Aya-chan was probably far too old 
to fear being abandoned by night- not that she ever would be.  Already, 
he could almost feel himself padding downstairs by moonlight to find 
his lover curled up in a rocking chair beside her bed.

"Rabbits and kitties first.  One thing at a time and all."

In contempt rather, he sniffled at himself, and without preamble, stuck 
his hand inside Ran's shirt- outright this time, up to his wrist, and 
he TICKLED him.  "Never did like that sayin'."

***

Ran tried to squirm away from Ken's wiggling fingers, but, being 
pinned in place by his weight, he could only save himself by catching 
hold of his lover's wrist, and dragging his hand clear of his shirt.  

"I told you," he grumbled, "if you want to get rough, we'll do it 
LATER."  And he gave Ken's wrist a tiny shake, only to hear another 
delighted giggle rise from his lover's throat.  

"Anyway, we'll buy Aya rabbits and kittens and a gold-tailed mermaid 
with dark hair and brown eyes, just like she has.  We'll give her a 
lacy, cocoa-colored room with vases of white flowers scattered about 
everywhere.  But right now...Right now there's just one thing I 
want."  

He scrunched his fingers against Ken's scalp, and gave his hair a 
short, playful tug.  "A kiss."

***

"Like I'd tell you no," Ken teased, shaking his head back and forth to 
try and scare Ran's fingers out of his hair.  It didn't work, but it 
didn't hurt either, and just to be still sillier than usual, he clamped 
his own hand around his lover's wrist as he worked himself up enough to 
brush his lips to Ran's.

They kissed gingerly at first.  Not with reluctance - just a kind of 
enjoyment that Ken knew wouldn't last the whole way through anything 
longer than an instant.  Just enough of time he took from their 
afternoon to take in the last of the way his damp hair smelled, the 
swaying of his heart through his flushed skin... well, it felt flushed.  
Warm like, as if he'd been drinking tea, though he couldn't have been.  
The little slipping noise when they parted, and Ran gave him the most 
malcontent look.  

The second time, he crushed their mouths together, and let the other 
boy wind his tongue deep inside him.  He brushed him this way and that, 
seeking a answer to his caresses... and they weren't small at all, but 
rather wild and thirsty; made him murmur a little with pleasure.

And Ken, his hand once more so close to Ran's belly, stroked him rather 
than tickled, felt his hips so touched and he loved it.  

"Wow..." was all he could really say.  His lips hurt now that they had 
nothing so close to them.  Almost empty.  But he smiled, and wondered 
why his beloved kept rolling his eyes.

Oh, his hair, right.  It was standing on end in little, curls his palms 
didn't quite crush.

"Y'know, I bet with my luck, we'd fall right off the swing if we did 
that again! You wouldn't wanna go for a walk and find someplace more 
interestin'? Wouldya? We could take the umbrellas into the woods and 
use 'em to shoo squirrels away!"

The squirrels on Terra being notoriously fearless, and Ken finding 
himself in the mood for MANY more kisses.

***

Ran was torn between wanting to stay on that swing with his hands 
curved around Ken's hips, or sneaking off on a walk with him in the 
heart of the Villa's woods.  Both had their obvious charms and 
promises of delight, but...the woods sounded just a little bit 
naughtier.  

"I would, yes," he breathed.  "Let's see if we can't put these 
umbrellas to good use."  

***

"Mwahaha! Squirrels of Valdemar beware!" Ken cried to the emerald just 
beyond the aventurine of the Villa's last hill- a pool of serene almost 
solitude drawing nearer and nearer as they walked beneath the violet 
shadows of their umbrellas.

And then, just one umbrella, for he had closed his own.  Ran's did well 
enough for them both he found.

***

"S' then anyways Ash says ta Eiji, 'yer kinda cute, let's make sweet 
love on that pool table o'er there,' but Eiji's all like, 'Hey, I still 
got my V-card, and b'sides, in't it like, fuckin' dangerous to make 
sweet love on a pool table in'a middle offa bar fulla people who wanna 
kick yer ass?' But Ash keeps askin' and askin' an 'en he asks sumore... 
yeah?"

Savil let her hand fall back to her lap then, "Two questions.  One, I 
thought you said the Japanese boy's name was Tetsuo?"

"I lied," fussed Schuldich, as he once more attempted to apply his 
tongue to the sparkly bandages which were crisscrossed over his nose.  
No, the lacewing hadn't damaged anything besides what of his pride he 
still happened to be cognizant of, but he had still insisted novelty 
band-aids were the only thing in the world that would make him feel any 
better regarding the earlier unpleasantness.  

"Ooooookay.  And umm... anyway, that's the soy sauce bottle you were 
using for the photographer."

"Well, it's Eiji now!"

"Riiiiight."

"S'slike I was sayin', Ash and Eiji like get it on in the backa onea 
these Dodge Neon things..."

Nagi canted Saffie somewhat of a skeptical look them from over the rim 
of his glass, one which she gladly returned, a wink gracing hers 
though, along with a tiny, gleaming candy pearl in his mind which quite 
deftly affirmed that she had chosen to tune her elder sibling out.  His 
thoughts, after all, must have been rather yucky at the moment.  That 
left only the connection between her and her lover awake any longer in 
the lazy sunlight spills.

"An' while they're at it, that Papa-verde spills salsa on his crotch..."

He probably kept talking after that, but Savil called quite loudly 
enough to echo then, "The door's open, come in." Though, needless to 
say, there hadn't been any knock or jingle outside whatsoever.  A sip 
of her drink later, the little girl had risen to her feet, meaning to 
great her guest, though not open the doors their visitor had proved too 
flummoxed just then to handle herself.  No, they parted themselves to 
find Fiona standing on the front steps, her fist paused just above 
where the panels would have been.

"Bonjour!"

"Ah... hi..." Frankly, Ran's servant couldn't have thought of another 
thing to say had her life depended on it.  There was really very 
little in the way of things anyone COULD have remarked regarding the 
inside of St. Catherine's, and it wasn't just because of the police 
tape that surrounded the otherwise innocent piano, or the assortment 
of kitchen utensils someone had dumped all over Crawford's coffee 
table.  It wasn't because of the owl that trotted up to her- an owl 
wearing a black half-mask with silk rosebud tied to the side -and 
bowed.   No, not him, or the grey-haired teenager presently gnawing 
away at a black loafer.  Not even Schuldich, who was sitting beside 
the coffee table at the moment, wearing ducky pajamas and some 
glittery, star-fraught sticky bandages on his nose, not to mention 
some soy sauce from the bottle he'd been holding, and some Cheez-it 
crumbs.  Not even the two very, naked underage lovers who had 
obviously been lounging on the couch together moments before, as 
the silver cushions still carried the imprint of Savil's legs.  No! 
None of these! For she'd seen them all before! It was the 
inexplicable union thereof that stunned Fiona into silence!

"Oh! I'm so glad to see you!" the not-exactly-clad girl exclaimed then, 
as she pitter-patter-jingle-jangled her way up to Fiona.  "I didn't 
think you'd be coming by soon at all!"

"But..."

"Sorry about that, Bradley's gone away for awhile, so I haven't got 
anyone to tell me what I'm going to do."

"Well that sucks!" And they both laughed, one like bells, and one like
a woman who had never been closer to wit's end.  And then, they merely 
gazed at one another, and Nagi at them.  Making small talk with 
telepaths, as always, proved impossible for her.  

"So... what are you..."

"Schu-baby's acting out all of Banana Fish for us with puppets."

"Wow..."

While he was waiting to get on with the show, Schuldich began to sing 
his favorite Pat Benatar song, though stoned as he was still, the words 
somewhat escaped him:

Hit me with your pet shark
C'mon!
Hit me with your pet shark
Hit me with your pet shark
Fire away!

"Umm... is there anything wrong with..."

"Oh, nothing at all a little nap won't fix!" Savil exclaimed, waving 
her hand dismissively as she did so.  "He's just been in the hemp, 
since Bradley isn't here to tell him it makes him act like a cheap San 
Francisco whore."

Of course, their guest couldn't help but wonder how long it would take 
San Francisco to become whore-free if all such employed persons started 
acting like her friend's brother.  Not exactly to her surprise, both of 
the other children beamed in delight at her consideration.

"Would you like a Long Island iced tea? Nagi-chan made them and they're 
absolutely yummy."

"Well... I don't know, Grumpy Bear'll kill me if he finds out."

"How about iced tea with a shot of raspberry liqueur?"   

"He'll never know."

But that was Saffie's way of tempting her- why, there were snowballs 
who had a better chance of befriending the characters from The Inferno 
than she had of resisting raspberry liqueur!  She soon found herself 
with one such glass resting in her hand, she herself upon the billows 
of one of the empty couches as Schuldich went on.

"And the salsa," he told them, "is EVIL salsa!"

***

"And that means...what?" asked Nagi.  "It's sentient, and can freely 
decide to nibble at that Papa-whoever's cock?  Or...by placing it 
*there*, he has put himself at risk for demonic possession, as that 
particular salsa was born in Satan's very own kitchen, and can easily  
enter the body by seeping into one's orifices?"  

Schu stared at him for several seconds, then went back to singing his 
rendition of Pat Benatar's big hit as if Nagi hadn't spoken at all.  
Over the rim of his glass, the boy watched him shake the soy sauce 
bottle as if it were dancing.  

"You know," he murmured, "you do make an odd stoner.  I can see why 
Crawford's so down on you partaking of weed.  Although your version 
of 'Banana Fish' is far more entertaining than Yoshida-san's."  

A cackle rose from the lounging redhead, mixing with Fiona's weaker 
chuckle.  It was then that Nagi regarded her as if she'd just 
appeared upon the sofa out of thin air.  

"And what are you doing here?"

***

The obvious answers to the boy's question Fiona knew were no good.  
Why, who in their right mind would "just stop by" Saint Catherine's 
Church, her present company residing there or not? It just wasn't the 
sort of place for that. Was is she worried about them? No, that 
wouldn't do either! These were people who survived earthquakes, fires, 
building collapses! Each other! Best not to offend them by suggesting 
such an overly chivalrous thing as WORRY.  She couldn't be there to see 
Saffie, because if that would be the case why then? Who was to say she 
didn't exactly like Saffie in a chaste sort of way, hence the impromptu 
visit? Oh, the innuendo! It would almost be as bad as finding Saffie on 
a couch with a naked boy.

...wait a moment! That was exactly what had happened! The way he 
lounged, all panther-like and still seraphic- a perfect Kaori Yuki 
Hero -it almost hid the fact but YES! Savil was sitting on a couch! 
A couch where she was not and a bare-assed Nagi was!

Not to mention that the blond girl presently failed to exhibit any 
interest in bailing her friend out of her suspicious silence! Noooooo! 
For that was innuendo too! 

/Well it wasn't like she didn't tell you every letter she had the hots 
for the pyrokinetic weirdo!/ It still smarted though- as if in all the 
places the little herald's hands had ever brushed her there had been 
driven tiny fragments of cold metal.

Though, a second, more critical look to the boy, this one with her 
straw in her mouth to feign thirst, revealed that no, he didn't look 
nearly as odd as she had always pictured him close up.  He just looked 
like a very bored teenager, albeit one who hadn't any pants.

And then... she knew.  It didn't matter at all what she said! Even 
EMPATHIC 43's could pick liars out with barely a blink.

"Oh, well, I was in town by myself and I got two hours before I gotta 
be back home so..." she shrugged. "...figured I might stop by since I 
don't know when I'll get another chance."

"Oh!" Saffie interjected.  "That's so sweet of you! I did miss you just 
lots! Have you been introduced to Nagi-chan?" Rhetorical question.  Of 
COURSE she hadn't and they both knew it.  Still, she waited for her to 
shake her head before continuing.  "Ah! Silly me.  Nagi-chan, this is 
Fiona.  Fiona? Nagi-chan is our friend."

She said "friend" the way one says "friend" when it can only mean 
"lover".

"Our...?" Fiona wondered aloud.

"Oh yeah, he suuuuuuuuure is!" Schuldich finally piped up from the 
floor as he cast his head into the boy's lap, and laid there, humming 
and nuzzling him while soy sauce leaked all over the table, only to be 
pecked at by Jasper, who had nothing better to do at the moment. 

***

Nagi took no notice of the owl, save for sighing that Schuldich had 
probably ruined the finish of Crawford's table and wasn't it a 
pity?  Which one might have taken for true concern, except his tone 
held no concern at all.  He was also staring sleepy-eyed at the lost 
little Fiona, and not at his redheaded lover's sipping pet.  

Everything had just become so very clear!  Realization had pierced his 
alcohol soaked brain like an arrow and the barest chill of a smile 
hovered over his lips.  Which were soon to be tickled by a lock of 
Savil's golden hair, thus gently trapped between two fingers.  

"I can't help but wonder why you are so surprised, Fiona-chan.  
Surely you saw it was just a matter of time before Savil and I would 
come together?  The two of us being in such close quarters, and not 
too far apart in age, not really."  

***

Fiona, rather than spit outright in her surprise, blew bubbles in her 
iced tea- enough that they almost came cascading over the rim of the 
glass and into her lap.  Now, she was quite aware that Savil's 
relatives (so to speak) were BLUNT on occasion, but this was somewhere 
beyond ridiculous in that respect.  Glaring a little now, she drew back 
from her glass, and left it clank down on the last dry quadrant of the 
coffee table.

Just the same, she sounded more heart-sick confused than angry when she 
spoke.  "Hey, I thought Savil was gay like her brother!"

"I'm nah gay, I'm QUEER," Schuldich took this opportunity to clarify.  
"Gay peoples han'-flip a' wear Hawaiian shirss, whish I wouldn' be 
caugh dead in, tank you Trudy Wankermanjenson." Nodding at his own 
absurdities, he then took Jasper back into his hands and began to make 
the little bird dance to the Phil Collins which, in the absence of Pat 
Benetar, had begun ringing in his head now that he was too stoned to 
remember he didn't like Phil Collins one bit.

Saffie, who hadn't exactly regarded the scene impassively and was now 
giggling behind her wrist, finally managed to explain, "Oh actually I 
haven't got much of a preference at all, but I've always loved Nagi! 
Ever since I was little."

"B-b-b-ut!!! The thing... you know... the way you were always kissing 
the other girls at school.  Like... ALL THE TIME! What about that?"

"Oh, that was only because we were at an all GIRLS school.  If there 
had been boys there, I would have kissed them too."

"She's all I need/All of my life/ I feel so good if I just say the 
word/Su-su-sudio!"

Nagi slapped Schuldich lightly on the back of the head, and offered his 
guest a look of the sort of glance one gives a puppy who has made a 
mess on the floor three minutes after being offered a chance to go 
outside.  

Fiona's only response to this was to flash one accusatory finger o at 
the still complacently lounging Savil.  "Hey! You kissed girls even 
after Nagi came to live with you guys!"

"That's true, but Nagi-chan's got just a LITTLE of Bradley's 
voyeuristic streak, haven't you, Angel Moy?"

There had been no nod, but then again, what could would nodding to 
telepaths ever do? With her lover's lips once more seeking the straw in 
his glass, Savil lit upon the far couch, with no time between her faint 
rising and the proximity of her presence to Fiona's empty hand.  Ran's 
servant had quite forgotten after all, that both Marlow siblings could 
teleport, but no matter.  A few seconds later and she had nothing to 
remember at all.  Her pale blue eyes were big as saucers, her tea 
drizzling slowly onto one of the rugs where her wrist had tipped just a 
little too far over the edge of the couch, and five years after she 
imagined them there, Saffie's lips were all over hers, tickling and 
playing, but no more.

"She's all I need/All of my life/ I feel so good if I just say the 
word/Su-su-sudio!"

***

It was just a thin trickle of jealousy, strong enough to make Nagi 
take notice but not to act upon. He found it downright amusing, 
frankly, that he, a boy who cared so little about everything (or 
pretended not to), cared that much about her as to let such an 
innocent kiss bother him. Apparently, Savil did too, for the 
chastisement which fluttered down their link was tinged with 
laughter. 

/Sorry. It's the tea,/ he thought at her, nodding. 

She drew her lips from Fiona's just enough to smirk knowingly at him, 
before she gathered the girl in another chaste buss. Nagi slurped at 
his drink until the straw filtered nothing but air. He cocked a puzzled 
look at it, then simply manipulated another waiting glass from the 
tray. It wobbled precariously in a quivering line, until it came to 
rest in his outstretched hand. The empty one, he sent back, only to 
drop it onto the table itself, where it shattered into five misshapen 
halves, and several scattered shards. 

"Oops," he said, wholly indifferent. He took the fresh straw in his 
mouth, and began to suck again. Across from him, on the spare sofa, 
two pairs of eyes--one brightened with mirth, the other 
mystified--were regarding him intently. 

"Go on, go on," he said, waving a hand at them before settling it 
with a loud smack in the center of Schuldich's chest. "I'm all 
attention."

***

It was only quite a few moments after the glass had broken, and the boy 
rested his hand against his chest that Schuldich seemed to notice the 
noise- it made him shriek, and take off across the room, leaving his 
owl to flee to the head of the madonna, where he sat then, hiding his 
eyes under one wing whilst his master ran around the left set of pews, 
fussing, and eventually tripping over Farfarello, who barked.  They two 
stared at one another a moment before curling up in a vaguely heart-
shaped heap and starting to snore.

While this was going on, Savil stretched herself out on the far couch 
so she more rested on Fiona than the silver cushions.  Fiona, who 
stared still at Nagi, rather than the golden-haired girl who had draped 
herself around her.

"Yes," said Saffie affirmed, "We are much stranger than the Ran's 
household.  Hadn't you guessed that from reading my letters?"

The servant sniffed and turned away, or tried to, only to find herself 
gazing up at her own eyes in the place where her spilled tea hadn't 
quite drained into the rug.  "It's one thing," she announced, "to read 
about that kinda stuff.  It's another COMPLETELY to find I'm in the 
middle of it!"

"Middle? Why, you're not in the middle of anything.  You're to the 
right of me.  There'd have to be three of us for you to be in the 
middle!"

"Or five, five has a middle," came Fiona's deadpanned reply, and as her 
sight wandered back to the friend in her not quite willing arms.  "Or 
is five too kinky for you two?"

"No, five would be lots of fun! There just aren't enough eligible 
children to go around."

"Damn."

"Would you like some more tea?" 

With a sigh, she consented without having to say so, expressed she 
didn't want quite as much liqueur in it this time, and soon enough, 
found her hands full.  This time, she vowed not to spill.  With her 
lips still against the rim, rather than Savil's pinking mouth- "Well, 
when in Cyprus, do as the Cypriots do and all that."

Her drink in one hand, and Saffie slung over her other arm, she toted 
the two of them over to the couch where Nagi lingered, and flopped down 
there between him and her.  Oh, how utterly strange it felt to be 
touching a boy without anything between them but her pretty printed 
shirt.

"It's a... very nice tea," she finally managed to tell him just as his 
lover's head sank down against her shoulder.

***

"Yes, it is," Nagi agreed with a tipsy nod.  "I got the recipe out of 
Bradley's mixer book.  He is fond of his cocktails," he confided.  
Savil echoed his remark with a nod and a fond little smile.  "Won't 
let us have any when he's around.  Fussy cat."  

Nagi sniffed in disdain, and Savil giggled, not bothering to conceal 
her flashing, pearly teeth with her hand.  "I bet those Weiss boys 
are just as priggish, aren't they?  With their justice and their 
morals."  

Lowering her eyes to the glass she had balanced on one thigh, Fiona 
half-heartedly shrugged.  Nagi reached out and patted her lightly on 
the knee.  "I thought so.  Well, you are with US now.  And we know 
how to have fun."  

Fiona shyly raised her eyes to meet Nagi, and found the boy was 
watching her intently; taking in every line of her face.  Then he 
looked past her to Savil, and said, "Savil-darling, why didn't you 
tell me she was so pretty?"  

***

"Because I wanted you to see for yourself," replied Savil, adding 
lightly to his mind then as her own palm stole over their guest's 
unguarded knee, ::More dramatic than my telling you, even like this.::

Fiona herself had nothing to say on the matter besides an acute, not 
wholly alcoholic blush that burnished the bridge of her nose.  While 
the tea did wonders for her fancy of such things, it had distinctly 
decided not to be the least bit cooperative when it came to controlling 
her expressions.

/Not that it matters with these two!/

"Of course it matters!" Saffie rejoined, giggles foaming up her words.  
And no one but they two seemed to know just what mattered, if the 
little telepath had any idea.  Across the room, her brother rolled over 
and started licking Farfarello behind the ear, purring something about 
orange soda.  None of them really had much of a chance to notice, for 
she went on then, speaking to her lover.

"Not even memory does justice to blue eyes, Nagi-chan.  And these are 
like evening on a bank of snow.  I just love them! And the fine lashes 
around them don't ruin them at all!" One of her fingertips, still chill 
and wet from the condensation on her glass, traced over Fiona's 
eyelids, for she had blinked at the moment of her touch.  Savil though, 
undaunted, wound down around one of her cheeks, and into a lock of her 
short tresses that had fallen across her cheeks.  "But when was the 
last time you saw such eyes with such straight brown hair, such 
amaretto cream skin? Muu! Ran mustn't perceive it at all or he'd have 
Primera doing the dishes, not you."

"Ah... actually, Prim *does* do the dishes."

"I mean every day."

"Is that so...?"

***

"It just goes to show how poor Ran's taste is," said Nagi. "I mean, 
he's taken up with that sniveling hothead. I'm sorry, Savil. I 
never cared for him."

/Or any of them, really./ 

He took a last sip of his tea, then manually set the glass down on 
the table. "Enough about the Weiss kittens. Let's talk about you, 
Fiona-chan," Nagi said. "Or maybe first...we ought to help you get 
more comfortable? You must feel so stuffy," he added, lightly 
fingering the last button of her shirt, "all dressed on a hot summer 
day."

***

::Although that would explain your repeated hurling of mad little Omi-
kun against the wall.:: Savil thought back to her lover, giving him a 
mental wink that shone with sweetness for an instant where otherwise 
she was still, and caught their guest's gaze for her own.  

"It's a very pretty shirt you have, but you must be far too warm!"

No, it wasn't just the raspberry liqueur! Not anymore! She truly, truly 
was too warm.  All those afternoons spent on the cold, purple silk of 
Ysanne's favorite couch... Maybe she wasn't blushing, and maybe she 
wasn't sweating! But still she could feel it, the afternoon sun, as if 
she was better than naked, and it knew no more than her.

"Well..."

"...alright?" Saffie asked.

"Alright," she agreed.

And the next thing she knew, she was down to her bra, and her shirt had 
lazily hung itself on the back of the now empty couch.  Her shoulder, 
which she thought would remain bare, was dusted with will Savil's 
golden locks, as they came spilling down against it while the little 
girl drew so near her lips.

"I'm disappointed with Ran! Making you wear all that nasty clothing.  
We really should do something to make it up to you."

"'s tea's good..." Though her mouth, as impossible as it seemed, had 
gone quite dry.  Her glass, now empty once again, left her for the 
table, and sat beside Nagi's.  

Except for one ice cube.

Courtesy of the little girl at her side, that began to run little 
circles over her exposed stomach, and she could not help but smile a 
little.

"You teases."

"But of course."

***

"It is what we do best, Fiona-chan, being who we are," said 
Nagi.  "But...I don't believe you really mind it, do you?"  

The girl shook her head.  

"Good," he said.  "It wouldn't do 
if you were unhappy.  It would mean we've failed as hosts."  His 
fingers toyed with the lock of hair resting upon the slope of her 
left breast.  "And that can't happen."  

Nagi pressed the tip of her captured lock to his lips, then dropped 
it to her shoulder, and swept her hair back from the side of her 
neck.  A soft puff of breath drifted over its curve; another along her 
collar bone, the shadowy hollow between her breasts.  Nagi sat up with 
a satisfied little smile, his eyes meeting hers.  

"Oh, look," Nagi said, running his fingers along the edge of her bra 
cup, the thin fabric of which poorly concealed her rising 
nipple.  "It appears you like what we're doing to you."  He drew his 
fingers upward to her strap, and gently coaxed it off her 
shoulder.  "I wonder what else you'd like for us to do, hm?"

***

It was with a kind of glory only fit for living in the swaying glint of 
one moment Fiona realized she didn't have to say yes.  No matter how 
much she wanted to, how much it would have made her chest ache and her 
sense of self sing to do it out loud, that at least was taken from her 
the moment she passed through the doors to the place where owls drank 
from glass top coffee tables, men were dogs, and children creatures of 
Anais Nin.  The sunlight sighed, and she did not, though for an instant 
the sense Savil left dripping though her mind lit up like the sky just 
before darkness takes it.

The boy and the girl around her, they both grinned, and the ice cube 
settled at last in her navel.

They knew.

"And who cares if Nagi-chan is a boy? He's pretty either way, and he 
would never let go of me if he held me up.  It's just the glass is 
nothing to him."

"Alright..." but it still brought a kind of restless, empty rush to 
her, knowing that if his touch again melted against her aching 
breasts, she would not be Terran, would not be what she had 
declared herself would not be a kept girl.

::And who wants to be any of those things?::

"No one," she breathed, sinking back against the cushion.  "No one ever 
let me choose before."

But the wet afternoon daydream began to coalesce, even if one of the 
delicate maidens was not a maiden true.  Her bra came away, and kisses 
smothered her lips.  The ice cube had melted so much it couldn't be 
played with anymore at all, but the water still ran over the hands that 
caressed her belly.  Each of her quivering nipples was kissed, nibbled, 
mouthed and sucked. Someone's cold fingers found them, Savil's, for she 
knew the sense of her nails somehow.  Maybe she told her.

It was Nagi took another silver of ice from one of the glasses, opened 
her jeans, and began to rub it on the unbearable warmth that had 
gathered on her clit.  

***

"You're so hot, Fiona-chan," Nagi whispered against her 
shoulder.  "The ice is melting so quickly.  Can't you feel it?  
Pooling down between your legs?" He leaned over to kiss her on the 
lips.  "Those jeans are so tight, too.  There's no way you'll ever 
get comfortable..."  

"I wonder what I could do..."  He smiled then, gently, and slipped 
off the sofa, leaving the cube to trickle against Fiona's clit.  Nagi 
stepped daintily between her legs, and knelt there, hooking his hands 
in her waistband, and tugging.  She shifted, knowing what he meant to 
do without any mental or verbal cues, helping him along without 
disturbing the play of the little girl at her side.  At last, her 
jeans met her ankles, and Nagi eased her feet free of them, tossing 
the garment in the direction her shirt had gone.  

"There now," he said kindly.  "Isn't that better?  You can truly cool 
off now."  Nagi ran his hands slowly up her calves, her thighs, 
leaning over to gently puff his breath along her inner thighs; 
spreading her legs further apart until her sex was fully on display.  
It glistened faintly, and he could smell her musky sweetness.  But 
instead of tasting her as another might, as he might at a later time, 
he instead dipped his fingers between her tender folds and petted the 
swollen, chilled bud that lay hidden at her very center.  

***

Fiona nearly skidded from the silver shelf of the couch, would have if 
Savil's dainty arms had slipped under her chest, held tight.  Her 
breasts shook with the near fall, and her nether lips trembled until 
the juices gathered on them began to drip from the smooth and soaking 
inner skin.  One droplet did splatter on the floor.  Savil caught any 
that were left, and held them a moment.

"Saf... y'don't have to I..."

"Being a good host," the little girl insisted, and stuffed her fingers 
in her mouth, purring at the taste.  Their guest once more shivered 
inside, but halfway off and halfway off her perch, she had to quiet 
herself, had to keep herself from falling into the breath so coyly 
stealing over her sex.    

She was bare there, had never shown one curl of milk chocolate fluff 
thanks to the whiles of her mistress.  The cleft of her body's center 
was short and small; opened just so that she looked like an orchid 
underneath, for she had not the pale pink of Savil, but a deep, 
enticing wine color that didn't show the heat of her skin well.  Nagi's 
hand curled up, and all of it swallowed her clit, his palm sweeping it 
back and forth.  

All the while, Saffie, a little cum still clinging to her lips, played 
her mouth against hers, and stroked her chest, lightly at first, but 
the touches grew deeper and deeper and...

::You can move, silly! We said we wouldn't drop you.  We promised.::

/R-really...?/ It seemed almost insane.

::Yes, really!::

So She did.  Ground herself on the fingers of the girl she had missed 
so much, kissed her like she would never kiss another soul ever again.  

Nagi chuckled a little too, pinched her tender little bud so hard her 
second mouth cried clear milk.

It didn't make them stop though, the two lovers who had her.  Next 
thing, they each had a finger in her juices.

"Oh... oh no... oh d-d-don... it's no! Oh! No please! Don't be so shy... 
please... oh NOOOOOO!"

***

"Okay, then," purred Nagi. "Since you asked so nicely, I won't." 
And he bent down to lightly bite at her thigh. Fiona jerked a 
little, pleading until Savil silenced her with a kiss. 

"Shh, bishoujo. We'll treat you nicely. Don't you worry," he said, 
cupping his hand around her dripping mound and rubbing the whole of 
her there. She arched against his palm, and he brought his hand down 
lower, and lower, until his fingertips brushed along her opening. 
She moaned against Savil's mouth. Nagi only smiled. 

"Let's see if you like this much, hm?" he asked softly, sliding 
three of his fingers into her slickness, and massaging her inner 
walls back and forth.

***

"I like it... I like it..." Fiona sighed. The undisguised desire in the 
boy's voice worried her own.  Between him and his little lover, she had 
barely the strength of voice to moan she found, and so just breathed 
when she could, fighting to take more air than pleasure in.  It was 
hard to hold with his fingers inside her, fine as they were, and he was 
so unabashed now about sometimes letting them flicker in so deep that 
one would graze the very tip of her vagina.  She was still very shallow 
after all; never so glad of it as she was then.

Gladder still of this, when Savil, now massaging her clit, stirring it 
back to life one sweep at a time.  But Savil was... Savil was nudging 
her once more to the edge, and not of another climax, but the 
cushions; she could feel the wetness she had left there brushing 
against her ass as she drew nearer and nearer and Nagi pushed her.

The second orgasm that wracked her was nothing of a quick fondle, 
nothing of a little caress she dealt herself, it worked her inside and 
out for one second and another.  

Once it had passed, her two lovers sighed, and they bent to buss each 
other then.

"Go on... you can stay as long as you want.  Let him take you," Saffie 
told her then.  And the boy's fingers went still, just one inch outside 
of her body, twisting with anticipation.

"Ah... right.  Right... I wanted... thank..."

"No need to thank us."

So as Nagi braced his hands just under her, she folded her legs back, 
pressed her stocking feet to the couch and began to ride his fingers- 
sometimes one or two he would give her, sometimes more.  Sometimes she 
felt like he had reached inside her with his powers, and spread her 
wider than before.  Her little bud showed itself this time, and bobbed 
with her.  She almost hadn't missed Savil, for her weight still sat 
beside her, rocked against her.

Touched her open cleft once, and with the cum there pushed one 
fingertip into her bottom, tight against that of Nagi's that already 
wriggled in her.

***

Nagi could feel the tip of his little lover's finger against the 
backs of his own through the thin wall of flesh which separated them; 
he paused his thrusts just for a moment in order to better match them 
with Savil's own. Above him, Fiona writhed and panted, clinging 
desperately to the petite blonde at her side. Her cheeks and neck 
were flushed, her hair wildly mussed about her face, her nipples 
blushing deeply. She was the very picture of passion, and he felt 
himself harden just a bit. His invasion of her body became more 
fevered, his fingers now truly stand-ins for his sex. He curved his 
hand against her so the heel of his hand rubbed her bared clit.

"Don't hold back, Fiona-chan," he quietly urged. "We won't mind a 
bit."

***

Her eyes, Nagi's eyes met for an instant, his beaming with soft 
anticipation, hers half-lidded with the same joy that ran from her body 
in thin tears of delight, and the liquid that had once more coursed 
from her, and onto the his hand, Saffie's hand as they arched up inside 
her again, and made her scream.

"We like playing with you..." a girl's voice, purred in her ear, but it 
didn't have the cadence of such a creature, not really, and she had not 
the sense to seek the lips out once again.  They had to take hers to 
them with her own.  She ground her sweating hands onto the cushions, 
and fought to hold herself as she swayed back and forth, penetrated 
then by one of the lovers, and then the other.  It was a precarious and 
aching passion- the muscles in her legs began to burn just as another 
feathery orgasm started to creep into her loins,  The harder she 
rocked, the more it hurt, the closer she came and the more she spasmed 
inside without her own leave, first it one place, then the other... 
sometime both at once and...

Saffie, with a sprightly and tender giggle, gave her a hard shove in 
the back.  

She fell.

Nagi fell.

And Nagi tumbled, where she simply slipped down to the rug, sliding 
further along than he would have, had he been startled.  Maybe he 
hadn't been, but no such worries could make their way into her mind 
then, for she found herself, wet and on the brink, straddling his 
thighs, her little mound just inches from his blooming stiffness.  

/No... I... but what.../ One of her palms had covered her own lips 
and her eyes were wide and terrified.

"You like me don't you? You're my friend... you can be Nagi's friend 
too.  No one has to know."

Before the words had even tumbled from Savil's mouth, her guest had 
flung herself down on Nagi's cock and was riding him as hard as she 
could.  

***

Squirming and writhing, slippery as a fish she moved, and Nagi's 
hands roamed her body everywhere they could.  Her breasts were nubile 
and firm, so much heavier in his palms than his darling's were, but 
just as velvety and warm and tinged with blood.  He savored the feel 
of them, as she did his touch. If it were not for the fevered rise 
and fall of her loins over his hips, he might have laid her down 
quietly, and caressed her just the same.  He only wanted to sink into 
her juicy softness again and again, as much as she might let him.  

His hands dropped from her chest, and he gripped her around the hips 
to steady her as she rode him.  His groin grew intensely warm, his 
skin prickling with nerves all over.  Where she touched him, he grew 
achingly sensitive.  His breath came in deep, shaky heaves.  

"I think...Fiona-chan...Fi...You shouldn't..."  

His orgasm crashed over him in a mighty wave, and he went rigid, 
unintentionally squeezing her hips hard enough to bruise.  

***

Fiona didn't cry out when his hands bit into her, but rather reached 
her rough, little fingers down and covered his mouth with them, as if 
that would quiet his worries, and not just his cries.  He kissed them 
when the moments had passed, and lay very still beneath her, trying to 
dance with his breath in between laving her digits.

"Don't worry about it... just... don'..."

Behind them then, a silence that stunned her more than sound, for 
Saffie's delighted applause had finally fallen away, leaving only 
footsteps, and the tickle of blond hair stealing over her shoulder.

"But you still haven't come ye~et.  Does that mean I get to worry?"

She said nothing to her, just kissed the pink lips so close to her own, 
and wished without need of words.  Savil sank behind her then, curling 
up among her lover's sprawled legs.  From there, her hands rode over 
the bruises on Fiona's hips, and down between the warm and sticky folds 
of her nether-lips, where, with Nagi's cock still settled inside of 
their guest, she took her clit, and drove her finger tip into it again 
and again, until her while body rippled and stirred with her climax, 
and her own juices joined the boy's cum as it dribbled out, bit by bit.

The two girls all tumbled down to the rug then, their lips locked, even 
where Saffie's eyes strayed still over Nagi's.

***

The boy rolled onto his side, and pushed himself up on one hip, sunk 
into the afterglow and not in any hurry to shake off its languid veil 
from his limbs and fogged mind.  The girls were writhing in each 
other's arms, petting and kissing each other and giggling as if it 
were all a game.  

Perhaps it all was, right down to the way the sight of all that soft, 
naked girl-flesh was serving to rekindle his boyish lust.  

Fiona ducked her head to nibble at Savil's budding breasts, and their 
eyes met over the girl's dark-ish waves.  Nagi rolled onto his knees, 
and crawled the short distance to where their legs lay entangled.  
One of Savil's own slim pale ankles wound in his palm; his hand 
encircled it easily, so dainty was she.  Nagi bent to kiss the round 
joint protruding from the outer side, then slid upwards, nudging 
their legs apart as he went, until, with his darling girl's help, 
Fiona was once more on her back, Savil draped in her arms.  

"You didn't come.  I was too quick, and...well...that happens 
sometimes."  He smiled softly.  "But we can't have that happen.  It 
wouldn't be right if you went unsatisfied."  

Nagi lay down between Fiona's sprawled legs, hitching one over his 
shoulder, and slid his hands under her ass, tilting her hips up.  

"I hope this will suit," he whispered against her rosy sex, before 
leaning in to nibble at her swollen clit.  

***

If only she could have lasted for whole hours under his lips... if only 
he could be so skilled in pleasure, time slow to a careless waltz.  She 
did not even find the breath to thank him as he nibbled her to her 
orgasm as the world sped past around them, and Jasper cooed though it 
was far too early; Schuldich snored in the arms of his pet.  Fiona did 
not cry out herself, but whimpered rather, strained and fought not to 
grind herself against the boy who had been so kind to her whims.

She climaxed, and he licked her clean, made her come all over again.  
When she woke up from the last shocks of her delight, Saffie was 
slumped over her chest, propped up on her elbows and grinning like a 
mad woman.

"You sure are SENSITIVE," she giggled.  "We can actually PLAY with you 
instead of lying around all afternoon and TRYING to make you happy."

Their guest smiled and gave Nagi a bit of a kick in the back so he 
collapsed amid her legs, and lay there for awhile, nuzzling the bottom 
of her belly.  Savil embraced them both, and the ice in one of the 
intact glasses clanked around as it melted like bells.

::We could ring the bells for you if you wanted.  They still work you 
know.::

No sooner had she thought she might like to hear them chime, a song of 
brass and underwater kisses began to ring through the whole church; 
half a wedding march, and half the music of a prayer.  The bells played 
then more nimbly than human hands would dare permit them and when she 
sat up at last as the tune came to an end, she kissed Nagi on the ray 
of colored sunlight which had doused his lips.

And he kissed both of them back.

"Hey do you guys have..."

"The downstairs bathroom's just back that hall, and then the one to the 
left, the door's still open."

Naked, she walked from the sanctuary, and into the eyes of a dove who 
lived in the glass along the wall.  She did not see the owl, or 
remember at first that she had left her clothing behind.  No matter, 
she would get it later.  In the mean time, she only washed her face, 
and drank from the crystal faucet until she could not taste either of 
her lovers.

***

When Fiona returned, she found Savil and Nagi lying on the sofa, the 
girl pillowed on the boy's chest.  They had been nibbling on some 
chocolate hearts from a box they found in Crawford's liquor cabinet--
milk, dark, and white.  One by one they floated to them from the tiny 
gold and silver foil cups to their waiting hands, courtesy of Nagi's 
power.  One such heart just missed colliding with Fiona as she 
approached the sofa.  

Oh.  Fiona-chan," said Nagi, glancing up at her as the candy heart 
settled in the well of his palm.  "We were wondering where you had 
gotten to.  Weren't we, Savil?"

With a nod, Savil snatched the snowy heart from Nagi's palm and 
popped it into her mouth.  Nagi gave her an indulgent smile.  

"We've come up with another game for the three of us to play.  Would 
you like to come upstairs and let us teach you the rules?"  

***

Before Fiona managed to get one word out, Savil frowned, the cocoa 
butter on her lips glinting a little as she did so.  "Muuu! I think 
Fifi has to go! So we don't get to play with her ANNNNNYmore to-night."

The boy raised his head a little at this, blinking slow and sanguine 
all the while, though he said nothing, barely even shrugged for her, 
neither glad no disappointed.  There seemed nothing in the world fit 
for him to do just then besides watch the last of the brilliant 
daylight go spinning away.  Saffie followed it though, and rose from 
his arms to come bounding over the sunlight where it warmed the rug.

"Will you come back and let us play with you again sometime?"

So there she stood, close enough to touch, close enough to drag her 
back down to meadow Persian filigree under their feet, close enough to 
carry her away forever and ever... but Fiona, already having bathed her 
scent away, quailed inside to know she wanted none of it.

At least, not then.  "Sure thing!"

"Well then, you have a nice evening, and make sure Ran doesn't get 
*too* drunk!"

"Easier said than done!"

They laughed- all three of them, though if Nagi made a single chime of 
it above the second ringing of the bells that she heard it not.  She 
just dressed, and slipped out the door.

The package she had left on the stoop when she had meant to knock for 
them was right where she had left it, only it's shadow had curled from 
the rim of the paper, and into the trodden flowers creeping up long the 
front of the church.

***

Inside, Savil waited to say anything until Fiona's thoughts had faded 
to a blood orange aftertaste faded in with the rest of Valdemar's 
musings.  A milk chocolate heart balanced on her lips then, she flopped 
back down into her lover's waiting embrace and giggled at him until he 
bent, and had nibbled his share of the sweet from her.

"That's a kiss during commission of a robbery, Angel moy."

::And you know the penalty for that!::

"Now you have to do to me what you did to Fiona-chan."

The thud they two made as they tumbled to the ground rather upset the 
dog though, and he rolled over suddenly, sniffing the air and mewling 
horribly at Jasper once he had gotten sight of the otherwise innocent 
owl.  His sudden movement had dumped the peacefully slumbering 
Schuldich onto his head.  The elder telepath cursed incoherently, bit 
himself on the wrist, and finally burst out laughing.

"Hey! What are you guys fucking for? We got a whole evenin' to enjoy!"

Saffie made some verbal attempt to explain, giving her lover a look 
that seemed to affirm her brother's mind wasn't especially receptive at 
the moment to anything lucid.  "Well, that would be why we're..."

"Whatever! Well, let me know when you're done, 'cause I got somethin' I 
wanna do."  And then as he pitched onto his back under the glow of 
Saint Dymphna, "Somethin' I dreamed about..."

***

If the sky at the hour of twilight looked any different in Valdemar 
than it did in the forest, Wissian wasn't aware of it. He'd never 
seen a city in all his life, had never come in contact with anyone 
from the outside save for the detritus travelers had left behind them 
on the road beyond. He had made countless forays to that hard-
packed, dusty thoroughfare to glean what he could have from those who 
dwelled where he could not, being careful to keep hidden lest anyone 
see him as he had been taught. Usually, he would come back empty 
handed, but sometimes he'd find one trinket or a tumbled bag from a 
carriage. All those things, treasures to him, he'd taken back to his 
rambling cottage to display on shelves he'd scattered about his home: 
earrings, coins, books, letters; a woman's red beaded evening bag; 
broken glass of green, brown and black; a toy top made of tin. The 
one pair of shoes he'd found long ago, a pair of women's gold 
sandals, he kept on the black marble mantle above his stone 
fireplace, along with an Ormolu clock in the shape of a lyre, a 
gilt hourglass with silver sand, and an ivory chess piece--that 
of a bishop. 

In the main room (which was really three combined: kitchen, living 
and work), he'd moved his desk to the alcove to the right of his 
bookcases, setting the brass bed he'd had there in its stead under 
the window. A narrow brass stand with a gold-veined, white marble 
top wound up beside it, another inheritance from his mother. This he 
capped with a glass jug and a blue porcelain cup, which was painted 
all around with tiny wrens; seven more like it hung from metal hooks 
off a twisted, broken windfall limb under one weathered cupboard in 
the kitchen. He'd piled the feather bed with fresh, fluffy pillows 
and blankets dyed naturally in pale greens and tans.

"There," he said, standing back to admire his handiwork before 
turning back to look around the rest of the room. He felt as if he'd 
missed something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on just what 
it was; it vexed him sorely, for everything needed to be right for 
his coming guest. 

"Let's see...I've ground more herbs for tea and cooking," he 
began, counting off on his fingers. "Certainly have enough food 
laid by...What am I missing? *Am* I missing anything? Well," he 
said, shaking out his long, tangled, black curls from the thin 
leather strip he'd tied them back with, "I'll think of it before 
then, if I am." 

/Too tired now.../ 

Yawning, he crossed over to the fireplace, where a pot of vegetable 
stew simmered over the licking flames. From the table, he took the 
harp he'd laid aside that morning, and sat down with his back to the 
warm rock wall. The harp was of wood, very old and dark with years 
of use, and deeply cherished. 

/Ah, would you look at that sky?/ he thought, tilting his dark head 
back against the worn stone as he admired the scene from his open 
doorway. /It's like...I don't know. Everything of happiness. I 
could play and play for it.../ And raising his head, he stroked one 
hand over the strings, checking its tone. A rapid flurry of notes, 
clear and fluid, spun onto the air.  If anyone could have heard him 
then, they might been overcome with feelings of joy, for such was 
his gift.  He could coax from his instrument music that could 
reduce the hardest heart to tears; inspire great joy or anger. 

As it was, he did not strive to sway the emotions of anyone, but 
rather, to convey his own through the workings of his fingers upon 
the strings, though his audience consisted solely of the willow that 
grew near the cottage. He couldn't think of a better one to have.  

"Wissian?" 

Instantly, he stilled the strings, his grey eyes darting to 
the window; all that stood there was his beloved tree. 

"Wis-si-annn?" sang a low, melodious voice from the front yard. The 
boy sat up straight, lips curling in a smile of recognition, 
revealing his white, slightly pointed teeth. He rose, once more 
laying the harp upon the table that stood in the middle of the room 
as he walked to the door. Coming across the clearing was a tall, 
slightly plump woman with shoulder-length brown hair; she wore a 
lavender, square-necked gown. A covered basket swung from one hand, 
and a pink parasol rested upon her shoulder. She spun it when he 
emerged from the house. 

"Mientje!" he called. "What brings you here?" 

"This," she replied, holding up her basket. "I brought you some 
honey, bread and apples." 

"Aw, you didn't have to--"

"Yes, I did. I'm in need of some onions and a few sprigs of 
rosemary. And I wanted to see you." She ruffled his inky 
locks. "It's been awhile." 

"It has, it has," he said, nodding. "Come in." Stepping aside to 
let her pass, Wissian relieved her of her burden, flipping the basket 
lid's rope catch for a quick peek inside. "Let me get you something 
to drink."

"Well," Mientje said over her shoulder, "maybe just a dram of that 
blackberry wine you make." 

"I'll give you a bottle of it to take home; onions and rosemary aren't 
enough for what you've given me." 

She threw up her hands with a grin. "I'm not going to argue against 
a bottle of that cordial." 

"Ha!" Wissian replied. "I didn't think you would." He deposited the 
basket on the counter, and removed its contents: the apples were 
bright red and shiny, and the bread was still quite warm. But it was 
the quart jar of honey which garnered his deepest approval; made from 
alfalfa, it was pale golden in color, and was delicately sweet. He 
set the jar down by the bread with a delighted little tap of its 
lid. 

"Ah, there's nothing like your honey, Mientje." 

"Racy talk at this hour? For shame, boy," she said, waving a hand at 
him. "And me a woman of my age." 

Blushing, he chuckled as he set a glass down in front of her. "Age 
doesn't matter when the woman's so lovely." 

She smirked. "You're growing up." 

"'Course I am," said Wissian. "Now quiet, please. I must 
concentrate." He closed his eyes, extending one hand at the table. 
In a blink, a pair of chubby black bottles materialized before her, 
thin rivulets of water streaming over their curves to soak into the 
table's marble surface. 

"There," he said, smiling in satisfaction. "Fresh from the cold 
waters of the Thr Wiel, your wine, my lady Mientje." And he bowed as 
he'd seen a character do in a picture in one of his books. She 
applauded him, then reached for the bottle, easing out the cork from 
the bottle's slender neck. The liquid spilled into the glass with a 
lively gurgle. 

"Don't you want any for yourself?" she asked. 

"Hmm...not just now. I'll fall asleep," Wissian explained, stifling 
a well-timed yawn. "Not ready to do that yet." 

"Fall asleep? What? Have you been keeping late hours, Wissian?" 

With a shake of his head, he opened one of the lower cabinet doors, 
revealing an array of root vegetables he'd harvested over that 
summer: blue onions, pale purple potatoes, yellow parsnips. "No," 
he said, snagging a fat, azure globe and prodding it for bruises. 
"I got up earlier than usual soI could do some cleaning." 

"So that's what's different," Mientje replied, looking about her 
now. "I noticed the table was free of books and parchment and herbs 
when I came in. I see now that you've dusted, and there's new rush 
mats on the floor. And you've moved the bed." She nodded 
approvingly. "I always thought it belonged by the window instead of 
in that dark, dank alcove. It's more inviting that way. What's the 
occasion?" 

Two more onions fell into the basket at his side.  Wissian shut the 
cabinet and rose to his feet. "I'm expecting company." 

"You...what?" 

"You heard me. Dried or fresh?" he asked, gesturing towards the 
small bundles of herbs he had tied to the beam directly overhead. 

"Oh...dried. Who's coming here?" 

Shrugging, he dropped the bundle of rosemary onto the counter, and 
pulled a paring knife with a stone handle and a crystal blade out of 
the drawer. "Oh, just...someone." 

"Wissian. Who is it?" 

"It's...It's an outsider." 

Mientje choked on a mouthful of wine. "An outsider?!" she croaked. 
"Wissian! You know we aren't supposed to associate with them!" 

"And I haven't...yet."

"And you won't, child," she admonished. "It's dangerous!" 

"I have to, Mientje. It will be dangerous for him if I don't." He 
swept the cuttings off to one side, and placed them one by one into a 
bottle he'd taken from another cabinet. 

"But..."

"No, Mientje. I can't turn anyone away who might need my help. That 
includes outsiders." He stopped the bottle with a cork, and set it 
in the basket. "No matter what happens to me...I can't refuse to 
lend what assistance I'm able to give." He set the basket down in 
front of her. "And I won't." 

Mientje stared at him in wide-eyed alarm, for it was clear he meant 
what he said. And she knew he wouldn't back down, no matter what 
anyone said, least of all... "Does Mistress Ashildr know?" 

Wissian hitched one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know. I don't 
care." 

"You should. She could make it difficult for you, boy." 

He threw up his hands. "How much more difficult could my life be 
than it is now? We can't *do* anything, Mientje. We're prisoners. 
Their laws, her laws. I'm sick of being under someone else's yoke! 
We all could do so much good for these people, if only we were 
allowed to." 

"Being amongst them can be a prison, you know," Mientje replied.  "It 
can be even worse than living in exile." 

"Not if we can pick whom we serve." 

"Mages can't--"

"Yes, we can. We can, and I will." 

"You would give this up? Your home, these creatures...?" 

"My isolation? Oh, yes, Mientje. I'd give it up 
tomorrow." He dropped his gaze to the floor. "In a heartbeat." 

Silence fell between them, and Wissian turned away to fetch a glass 
from the cabinet. He did not hurry back to the table with it, 
however, but instead stood there gazing at it as if he wasn't sure 
what to do with it, his mind miles away. He didn't react to the 
rustle of her gown as Mientje rose from her seat, and crossed over to 
him. Her suntanned hand landed gently upon his shoulder, and he came 
back to the present with a jerk. 

"I won't tell anyone," she said quietly, "so long as you promise to 
be cautious. Do not choose your master rashly. I don't care to see 
you hurt, lad." 

"Nothing will happen to me, nothing bad, that is," Wissian replied, 
covering her hand with his own. 

"I don't want any of your reassurances. I want a promise." 

"Okay, okay...I promise. I'll be careful, I'll think things through 
before I act." 

She stared into his eyes for a second more. "Okay. I'll accept it. 
Headstrong boy," she murmured fondly. 

Wissian smiled at her, and she chucked him under the 
chin. "Well...I've had my refreshment, I suppose I must be off." 

"Oh, no. Stay for dinner." 

"I can't, my lad," she said regretfully. "I am expected elsewhere 
for dinner tonight. But..." she tapped her chin, "how about 
tomorrow?" 

"Yes!" he exclaimed happily. "That will be fine. I'll make 
something special." 

"I will be counting on that." Setting the unopened bottle of wine 
into the basket, Mientje swung her parasol onto her shoulder, and 
slipped her arm through the basket's handles. "Good night, Wissian."

"Good night, Mientje." 

Wissian watched her wind along the overgrown stone path which led to 
his front door until she reached the edge of the clearing, where she 
simply faded into a mist. Still, he stood, gazing at the darkening 
sky; the sun had very nearly set, but the air was warm and humid, and 
smelled faintly of rain. From afar, came the hooting of an owl, and 
then the familiar cry of a raven. He perked at that last, and 
stepped out of the shelter of his doorway, scanning the starry 
heavens above him. The bird burst from the tree line into the open 
air of the clearing, and spiraled down to perch upon Wissian's 
outstretched arm. It sat very still while he stroked its breast, 
never taking its pinkish eyes off him. 

"You are just in time. I was about to sit down to dinner. And 
afterward...some music," he said, glancing at the willow. "It's a 
night for it, and indeed, I suddenly feel like I could play until 
dawn."

*****