It had been a long week, but it had been worth it.
For this brief period of time, Mikhail had managed to keep Avilan's undivided
attention.
"Do you really think he'll like this?" There were
still many things which struck him as odd about his new home.
"Yes," a fan of tiny lines appeared at the corner
of Avilan's bright blue eyes. His and Karola's youngest had left the nest
late last fall ... for good. Now the two one time leaders of Russia, in fact
if not in name, were enjoying their retirement. Or so they said.
In Mikhail's opinion, they were busier than ever.
"He'll like it." Avilan straightened out the front panel of Mikhail's robes.
He still felt strange, as if he were wearing a dress. "Although you do have
to learn not to trip on your hem." He knelt, inspecting the dust hem.
"I thought it was supposed to be removable." Mikhail
winced.
"Not while you're wearing it." He flicked
a dozen stitches into the gaping seam. It would have taken Mikhail forever
to get a seam so straight.
"Oh, you'll learn." He held the needle in the corner
of his mouth. "Hold still," he turned Mikhail around. "Sorry," the needle
flashed on the edge of Mikhail's new awareness. "Still, I said." His growl
froze Mikhail to the floor.
For all his beauty and frivolous airs, Avilan was
not a man to be trifled with. Particularly not when he had a needle in his
hands. Mikhail was amazed again at how deft he was. Before he'd met the Rus,
he would have never thought to see any male so adept at what was so typically
a woman's craft.
Not that he'd say any such thing around his sisters.
But even still, at Kaon, big, strong men did not spend their days sewing
and weaving. "What is so unusual about Valtanir sewing?"
"Huh?" Avilan's deft hands reset the shoulder pads.
Without them the heavy garment would have dug painfully into Mikhail's shoulders.
"Has Tzer been fussing at you again?"
"Not fussing really," he held out his arms at Avilan's
manipulation. "Only, well, he dances around the subject as if it were
embarrassing."
"In a way it is." Avilan sighed, his expressive
lips pursed. "Valtanir is a bit odd. He's not very Sime."
"He looks like it to me." Mikhail felt his cheeks
pink a bit. Valtanir had been the only other Sime here he'd thought at all
about approaching. For some reason he'd seemed far more gentle than so many
of the Russian Channels, what they called Lords.
"Oh, I'm not saying he wouldn't defend Lexi to the
death and beyond. Far from it." Avilan blinked at him. He tapped one finger
against his lips. "You really have to do something with your hair." Sounding
like a hen, he clucked a few times.
"Protect her?" Mikhail didn't like the sound of
that. He'd had Simes trying to 'protect' him since establishment.
"Oh," Avilan waved his hand, studying something
on Mikhail's chest. "Not that he'd stop her from doing something she wanted.
Well, maybe with Lexi he would. Um," he leaned forward. "Hold still."
"How is that different from Western Channels protecting
Gens to death?" Mikhail wrinkled his nose at the memory. Here he was
circumscribed by tradition and societal expectations, but if he really wanted
to, he could walk up to any Sime, tell them to go jump in the Moskva, and
they'd come back soaking wet.
It was a heady experience after being paid about
as much attention as a milk cow. After the first time he'd sent a poor renSime
to do just that, he was so ashamed of himself, he'd given in to his wiles
and given him transfer. That too had been a shock. Tzer had never once chided
him for the occasional transfers he'd given renSimes, shrugging his shoulders
and saying it was Mikhail's right.
And he did have to admit it gave him tremendous
freedom in some ways. His own body could easily give transfer to half a dozen
renSimes and Tzer'd never miss the selyn. It wasn't particularly enjoyable,
but then it didn't hurt anything here either. Never, not once, had he had
a renSime give him the look he'd learned very young meant they were zlinning
him with an idea of attacking.
Even when he'd accidentally flared his field for
Tzer in front of their guards. They'd run at maximum augmentation ... away.
After that Mikhail had been a bit more discrete with his field. Not because
he was afraid of luring a Sime to try to kill, but rather because he'd been
mortally ashamed at having scared them so badly.
"Have you ever watched Tzer when you're in a mixed
group?" Avilan sat in front of him and was looking for something inside Mikhail's
new kador. His hand got a bit familiar and Mikhail gave him a raspberry.
"I know." He winked, returning to his work.
"He's always trying to be between me any Lords in
need." Mikhail only now realized what his partner had been doing. "The little
brat."
"Don't scold him for it." Avilan looked up, his
eyes twinkling with laughter. "He's only following the model he knows."
"To keep other Simes from me?"
"Well, yes," Avilan grinned. "Flattering, no?"
"Not really," he spoke without thinking. Then he
looked down into Avilan's knowing eyes. He raised one silvered eyebrow. Doubt
rose off him in waves. "Well, yes," no one other than Tzer had ever shown
such appreciation. "But I've never asked him to protect me."
"And he'd probably deny doing it if you mentioned
it." Avilan's grin widened. "He wants you for his own. We've civilized them
some, but there's always a part of all Simes which isn't sure of their next
transfer."
"I can understand that." Since he'd permanently
bonded Tzer last winter, he'd never once gone over twenty eight days. Unlike
when he'd worked for the Techton, where he regularly ran out to thirty or
more. "They can't live without it."
"Neither can we, m'lad." Avilan did something arcane
to tiny beads strung across the bias cut on the swept front. "I know I can't
anymore. And even when I could, it made me feel like hell. Now, well, I don't
know if I would last for more than a few days."
"You look well enough." Mikhail stared, even though
he knew it was quite impolite.
"Oh, with a shunt I'd survive. But not doing without.
My body is too accustomed to consistent transfers. My heart and lungs would
probably fail if I tried to go overfield." He stood, with a number of pops
and clicks. "Arkay isn't the only one getting old."
"Why don't you go out with them?" Mikhail turned
at Avilan's prodding.
"Because our place is here, m'lad." He reached forward
and touched the cloth covering the mirror. "No, not quite yet."
"Tzer is simply responding to instinct." Avilan
pulled a number of small tins from various pockets in his own robes. He flicked
up the lights. "But instinct or not, the actions are very real. He loves
you, Mikhail." Avilan tipped Mikhail's chin up. "Look down." He held a brush
up to Mikhail's face.
"You aren't going to paint my face!"
"Only a little," he made more of those clucking
sounds. Mikhail grimaced. "I'll paint your face like that." Mikhail stopped.
"Then why does he try to protect me?" Mikhail had
to put the word into what they called High Simelan here, or the Simelan he'd
grown up with. He still couldn't make heads or tails of the Russian/Simelan
hybrid mess they called Low Simelan.
"Would cherish be a better term?" The one Avilan
used was colored with shades of love, fascination, honor and even worship.
It made Mikhail feel very small. "I think so."
"I know so." He met Avilan's eyes at last. "Do you
really think it is such a thing?"
"I know it is." Avilan ran a brush through Mikhail's
hair again. "Why did you cut it?"
"Had to." He shrugged. "Never thought I'd get to
come home."
"Well, don't do it again." He flicked the cover
from the mirror. Mikhail gasped, stepping back from the image. The person
in the mirror was certainly male, dress and makeup included. Somehow Avilan
had managed to make him look even more male with them.
But there was something more to it. A softness to
the lines of the rich cloth and the art with which Avilan had made him up.
Mikhail'd never thought of himself as soft. He'd always taken care of himself,
and often his Channel partner for the month.
"Let Tzer care for you, Mikhail." Avilan stood at
his side. "It isn't wanting to cage you like an animal. He only wants to
make it possible for you to be Gen. Having to be strong and aggressive is
for Simes. They're good at it. Let him lead."
"I'm just supposed to sit back and let him tell
me what to do?" Mikhail gaped. Avilan had never seemed to be so dominated
by Karola.
"Hardly," his smile held more wickedness than Mikhail
could comprehend. "He'll do as you wish at your lightest whim. Don't overdrive
the lad."
"How?" Mikhail turned, glancing the fantastic sprays
of crystal and diamond sewn across the black wool. They all glittered in
the light, particularly when Avilan waved them down. Then they glowed, seeming
even brighter than the room lights.
"Let him run out ahead." Avilan grimaced. "You've
never hunted with hounds, have you?"
"No," he shook his head, thinking this was something
he wasn't too sure about learning.
"You have to let the hounds run. You can't hunt
with them by keeping them on leashes. If they're good, they'll come back."
Avilan cocked his head. "Have you watched Nashen and Arkay?"
"Yes, quite a bit." He thought back on the times
he'd seen the two men together. "No, I'd not say Arkay was at all subservient
to Nashen."
Avilan sputtered.
"Are you all right?" Mikhail patted him on the back.
He was as solid as an old oak tree. He certainly wasn't on the verge of death
by old age.
"No, I wouldn't say so." He coughed a couple of
times. "But you notice how Nashen is always looking ahead, clearing Arkay's
path."
"Except when Arkay whistles him back." Mikhail grinned,
thinking of watching the two of them. "But yes, now I can see it. Arkay does
follow Nashen, physically, but his nager leads him and buffers him."
"Yes, exactly. That way Nashen knows what Arkay
wants of him." Avilan grinned. "Karola and I do it too. She doesn't listen
as well as Nashen though."
"Female?"
"No," Avilan snorted. "Kir was a master at it. She
ran Valentine as if he were an extension of herself, even when he was healthy.
It was just they way Val was. He needed his Sharm Lord to be strong willed
and decisive."
"Did you mean to say 'needed'?" He wondered at the
odd phrasing.
"Yes, actually," he grinned. "Its very much a transfer
sort of thing. Simes are not very focused. They'll run off after every hare,
fox and pheasant they zlin. Its up to us to keep them after what we want."
"That isn't very fair." Mikhail wondered if anywhere
there was equality.
"No, it isn't." Avilan's wicked smile returned.
"Enjoy it."
"But I don't want to be cruel."
"You won't be." Avilan lost his grin. "Trust me.
Tzer needs the security of knowing you'll be there for him."
"But how does ordering him around give him security."
"Because then he knows he's doing right, not frittering
away his time or energy on useless pursuits." Avilan's shrug was frustrating.
"He wants you to hold him tight."
"In bed," Mikhail protested. "Besides, I don't want
to babysit him. We have a toddler already." At the thought of Shanir he couldn't
help but smile, despite how near transfer loomed.
"Thats why you let them run and don't leash them
too tight." He returned his pigments, thread, pincushion and other implements
to various pockets. "Don't choke him, but don't ignore him either."
"How do I find the balance?" He glanced at the huge
couch he'd talked Tzer into putting in their rooms. It was comfortable, if
amazingly awkward to work around. Had Tzer acceded to Mikhail's desire for
the thing just because he feared loosing his source of selyn?
"You are bondmates, Mikhail." Avilan rested his
hand on Mikhail's shoulder. If you discomfit him, you'll feel it."
"Even if I'm so focused on myself I don't notice?"
He shivered briefly.
"You can't." He winked. "Trust me. Give yourself
time to grow. Take this winter to learn of your pairing. You'll both find
where you are most comfortable. Come spend some time with ..." he blinked.
"Tell you what. Why don't Karola and I join you here for the winter?"
"Sure," he replied without thinking.
"We can stay in Arkay and Nashen's rooms."
"What ... uh, shouldn't, oh dear," he had to think
about this. "Shouldn't I ask Tzer? What about Arkay and Nashen?"
"Your choice, really." He shrugged. "Again, this
is your home. Besides, think for a moment. Do you really think you would
want to do something that would upset Tzer?"
"No," he said slowly. "Oh," his eyes got huge. "Is
this what you mean by a true bonding?" The light dawned. "No, I guess I wouldn't
want something Tzer wouldn't want, would I?"
"No, you wouldn't." Avilan's grin suddenly fled.
"Oops!" He ran to the far door. "I'll ... we'll, be waiting for you." He
slipped out through the bathroom.
Mikhail waved down the lights even further. Tzer's
Sime quick footsteps crossed the floor. He turned to see his partner stop
in the doorway.
His heart beat tripped over in his chest.
"Its been a year." He held out his hand. The heavy
robes made it appear as if he were gliding across the floor. Tzer's eyes
widened in appreciation.
"So it has." His voice was softer than the wind's
low hiss. Silver eyes met his. As always, there was a shyness to their gaze.
Mikhail reached up to touch, his fingers trembling. Would Tzer accept him?
Tzer caught Mikhail's hand and held it to his face.
He'd zlinned Avilan vanish through the far door, but wasn't going to say
anything. The cool touch of his partner, so long missed and so long far away
reassured him again of the fact he was truly here, not merely a fantasy.
When Mikhail'd been gone, Tzer'd dreamed of him,
both good and ill. He'd prayed with all his soul to Allah for Mikhail's return
and cowered in terror of his own memory of having nearly murdered him. He
turned his face and kissed the soft skin of Mikhail's palm.
The taste of him, salty with nervous sweat and sweet
with his own perfume was as sweet as any true gift of Allah. He'd not been
as pious before. He'd trusted to himself to know what was right.
With Mikhail's maiming, at Tzer's hand, he'd learned
to love Allah with all his heart. Allah would make it all right, and had.
"I love thee." He brushed his cheek against Mikhail's dampened palm.
"As I love thee." His lover's blue eyes were more
brilliant than Tzer remembered. The fire of his selyn danced in their depths.
"My Alamir." His thumb brushed Tzer's cheekbone.
Even in the deepest need, Tzer's eyes stung with
unsheddable tears. "My Alahin." He reaffirmed their bonding, giving himself
over to Allah and his love. Mikhail's breath caught in his throat.
"We are one in the hands of the One." His quote
from the modern Surah tugged loose a single tear. He stepped forward, beads
flickering in his nager, spraying the ambient with millions of rainbows.
His other hand cupped the other side of Tzer's face. Soon he would be taller
than his love, but not yet. Tzer lowered his eyes, not wishing to push himself
on his lover.
"I would know thee as this past year has shown I
need thee." Mikhail's words rang with meanings beyond the simple sounds with
his impossibly beautiful field. Unlike any other Sharm Lord, it formed great
geometric crystals to Tzer's zlinning. Layers of infinite complexity and
symmetry retreated beyond reality. "You too are beautiful, my Tzer."
Startled, he blinked clear his vision to see Mikhail's
eyes also wet with tears. "I will never live without thee again, my Alamir."
His lips trembled.
"Never again," all Tzer could do was shake his head
no. "Without thee I am nothing but an empty shell, without life, without
tomorrow."
"You have Fatima now."
"We have our Lady Fatima." He stepped into Mikhail's
arms. They came around him, holding him physically safe as his nager embraced
him in its crystalline sphere. "She is both our love, as She holds us safe,
we keep Her well guarded."
"But I would speak of thee and me." Mikhail's sweet
breath caressed his ear. Neither of them had the long hair or fantastic jewelry
of their station, but even still he'd trade nothing for Mikhail's presence
in his arms. "We are together, now, here, under Allah's bond and within Allah's
hands."
Tzer's knees threatened to buckle with the force
of his emotions, untrammeled with the buffering effects of Mikhail's field.
"Never let any part us again?" He asked, hoping Mikhail would know what he
asked. The cold darkness of need was distanced, but even so it clawed at
his memories of being lost and alone without his Alahin.
"No, never," he leaned back. Again Tzer could look
him in the eyes. They were lined as they'd not been when they'd both been
so frightfully innocent, but they also held the love Tzer had craved with
every mote of his being during their separation. "Ins'Allah, Tzer," Mikhail
grabbed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Not that he cared.
"Yes, by the will of Allah." He stroked Mikhail's
broad back. No fabric or other adornment could truly show how wonderful Mikhail
truly was.
"Would you like to do something special for tonight?"
His voice quavered.
"At thy will and thy wish." He breathed as Mikhail
let loose some of his grip. But not too much. "I would follow thee through
hell and retrieve thee from Azrael's arms."
"Thou already have." He let Tzer go the rest of
the way. All but Tzer's hand. His heart raced as they headed for the door.
There were others out there. At Mikhail's side, he ... no, he wouldn't fight
him. Tzer would stay back. No one would threaten Mikhail.
A tiny smile played on Mikhail's lips. With the
gesture of a falconer throwing off his gyrfalcon or eagle, Mikhail loosed
Tzer's hand. Instantly he opened the door. The guards snapped to attention.
He studied them, frowning briefly at a mote of dust
on Falia's shoulder. She colored under her already dark skin. She'd never
be so ill groomed again. Mikhail glided through the doorway, kador glittering
even brighter in the hall lights.
Together they walked down the hall, Tzer noting
it would soon be time to replace the rushes on the floor. Something had changed.
What was it? He stopped.
"Oof!" Mikhail ran right into him. "What is it?"
"What are you doing?" Tzer flailed around for an
answer.
"Let you go out front." He dropped his eyes. Rushes
rustled beneath his restless feet. "Did I do wrong?"
"No," Tzer said instantly, not wanting to discourage
such a thing. "I'd only just noticed it."
"Are you upset?"
"No," he said even faster. "I like. Really I do."
"As long as you're sure." He tipped his chin forward,
his nager as restless as new snow. "I'd please thee."
"Not at your discomfiture." Tzer's handling tentacles
were beginning to twine in protest. Mikhail's eyes flicked downward and his
field froze for the briefest instant. Tzer's breath hissed between his teeth
before he could control it. Then Mikhail's field returned to normal.
"I'm ..."
Tzer silenced him with a tentacle tip. Mikhail,
of course, kissed it. Tzer's knees wobbled. A single tiny drop of wetness
escaped one lateral sheath. "Smell good," Mikhail's throaty purr nearly got
him fondled in the hall.
"You do." He licked his lips, thinking of how good
Mikhail would taste later tonight. Right now his nose was deadened to all
but roniplin, but later, he knew the rich smells of his lover would be sweeter
than even roniplin or dates.
A soft chuckle came from behind him as the hall
emptied out to the foyer. Black and silver marble reflected the bright lights
overhead. This room was a bitch to heat in winter and Tzer could see his
breath clearly.
Before they left the building, he placed a heavy
winter coat over his lover's shoulders. Mikhail stroked the soft fur with
his cheek, even as his eyes watched Tzer's every move. This was how things
should be.
A bit flustered, Tzer grabbed the wrong coat. When
he put it on, it dragged on the floor. He blushed, realizing he'd made the
mistake because he was still staring at Mikhail.
"I wasn't looking either." He winked, moving to
block Tzer from the guards. He swapped coats quickly, careful to take his
older one which wouldn't be so badly damaged if he leaked roniplin on the
cuffs. It required cleaning anyway.
The city streets were deserted. Snow piled against
the walls over their heads already. This time of year, few people went out
at all. It wasn't really cold, although Tzer zlinned up to note another storm
coming in soon. Probably tonight if they were to have transfer away from
the very well grounded townhouse.
In its environs, Tzer didn't have to worry as much
about disturbing weather patterns with his own transfers. But tonight it
wouldn't matter. A few hours difference in the timing of this storm would
do no harm.
"Do we have to have transfer at home?" Mikhail's
question brought him out of his contemplation of the sky overhead.
"Is it truly your home?" Tzer asked, wondering.
"Yes," Mikhail's hand cupped his elbow. The touch
knifed through him with more force than the night air. Immediately he dampened
the cuffs of his coat. Fortunately this one would not freeze to his arms
even if he soaked it. A badger fur guard would zlin to that.
"And no." He answered Mikhail's question with a
wink.
"Then I have a slightly different place for us to
go." He nodded toward the street ahead of them. The ice wasn't yet thick
enough for Tzer to worry about either of them slipping, but as they went
deeper into the city, he wondered where Mikhail was leading him.
At last they came to a huge building not half a
klick from Kirov. Tzer could hear the river under the ice nearby. Lanterns
gleamed brightly through glass windows. The one over the door was red.
Tzer blushed and turned to Mikhail. "Yes, I know."
His cheeks were red as well. From his nager, not all of it was from the cold.
"We are expected." He reached for the door handle.
Before he could get to it, Tzer opened it. A tiny
anteroom sheltered the interior from the cold winter air. A young lord, hardly
older than Tzer from the look of him, took their coats and offered them both
soft indoor shoes. Tzer didn't let him get close to Mikhail.
"Thank you," Mikhail's hand stroked Tzer's hair
as he helped his lover into the slippers. They were black, and beaded as
Mikhail's kador. Someone had been planning this for more than a few days.
It was still cool and so Tzer hurried.
"Your party is waiting for you." The doorman opened
the far door. A wash of warmth, scented with the most wonderful foods and
sweet perfumes curled around them.
"Welcome, Lord and Sharm Lord Fatima," a wizened,
but still quite bright eyed woman greeted them. "Oh, yes, I'm old. Don't
you mind me." Her hand waved them toward the table. But her voice was still
rich and as thick as cream. "I know your father, young Lord Tzer."
"Which one?" He dared jest. This could be no other
than Madame Halima herself. Tzer'd wondered as a child what she looked like
to command such prices as he'd heard bandied about when no one had thought
he could hear. Now, having met her he wondered if any price could be enough.
"Both," her smile reminded him vaguely of someone.
Tzer's eyes widened as he realized who ... Avilan! "Yes, young Lord. He and
I share certain traits."
"He's not a ..."
Mikhail's cough cut off Tzer's nearly disastrous
words. Calling Halima a whore would not be well received, no matter how true.
"Ah yes, young lust." Her chuckle brought another
surge of roniplin to Tzer's mouth.
"You might be ..."
" ... the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Mikhail lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Thank Allah for Sharm Lords, Tzer prayed. He'd been
about to call Halima old. This time he bit his tongue. In need, he shouldn't
be let out of the house.
"You are quite wise, m'Lord Fatima." She tipped
her head toward their seats. "We will also be having Lord and Sharm Lord
Kirov join us this evening if they are available."
"I would like that very much." He managed to get
out without stepping on his laterals. This was an accomplishment this evening.
Mikhail's fingers twined with his under the table. Together, even before
transfer, a shadow of his appetite returned.
"Do you wish to wait?" Mikhail's broad fingers slid
between Tzer's tentacle sheathes.
"I'm not sure." Now he was at a loss for words.
Where would Nivanya and Ilyan be in their cycle? The other couple were so
much older than he and Mikhail. Would they be upset if Tzer were to make
more of a fool of himself?
"They will be as you, nearing transfer. If you wish,
there are some small sweetmeats for you while you wait." Halima's rich voice
soothed away the worst of Tzer's fretting. It was impossible to fret with
that voice tickling his arms.
Then Mikhail spoke. "Which would you prefer?" His
lips brushed Tzer's ear.
"I think ..." he took a deep breath. "I would like
something to sharpen my appetite."
Mikhail's smile brought all of Tzer's tentacles
out. It was so beautiful, he wanted to hold it to him for all time.
"Ah, yes, the enthusiasms of youth." Halima chuckled.
"Perhaps something soft, to begin with." A pair of middle aged rens appeared
at Halima's command.
Tzer was taken aback. This was not what he'd expected.
But then the elder opened his mouth and began to sing. Without the overwhelming
field of a lord or sharm lord, the words rang clear and true. It was a love
song, one written years ago by Mikhail Chernoye. And it was Tzer's favorite.
His partner sang the reply, her own sweet Gen promise
offering herself to her partner. Tzer's bones melted under the delicate touch
of the two musicians. Any sharm lord could command any Sime's submission,
but her dainty renGen field held no such threat.
The man's response held all the longing of need,
even as it was true with the golden shimmer of the last flickers of selyn
in his field. He was in need! Tzer had never dreamed to see or zlin such
a thing.
Closer and closer they came, each complementing
each other in the most pure tones, nageric and physical imaginable. On all
levels, the two musicians, obviously true lovers as well as performers, called
to each other the dance of seduction to Chernoye's eternal words.
At last the song ended, with them bound by hands
and tentacles. As the last note passed their lips, they kissed. And with
that kiss, they opened to each other.
Tzer had never seen another's transfer. Not this
close or this intimately. His heart was pounding in his laterals as the transfer
kiss transmuted to one sexual rather than nageric.
"I want you." Mikhail's soft murmur in his ear was
enough to drive him over the edge. Tzer's tentacles, slick with roniplin
struggled to find a hold on Mikhail's wrist.
"Let me get out of ..." Mikhail's field quivered
with shock. Tzer blinked back to reality to find two pairs of very deft hands
had assisted them in the removal of their outer clothes. A soft chuckle and
their audience was gone. Now this was heaven. He tipped his head, praying
Mikhail would get the hint.
Mikhail had never thought to visit a pleasure house
before he'd left home. After Vayer had introduced him to such things, he'd
wondered what it would be like to visit one with a partner. When Avilan had
mentioned the fact Fatima had a running tab at the best House in the city,
he'd jumped at the chance to bring Tzer here.
It was not what he'd expected. Tzer's eyes closed,
as his soft lips tempted Mikhail close. Without thinking of it, he brushed
them with his own. Tzer's wordless moan thrummed through his body. Mikhail's
hand came up and brushed his lover's soft hair back from his face.
He chuckled softly when he saw the low table had
been taken away. This was wonderful! The soft cushions gave easily as he
teased Tzer forward. He knew he was not Avilan to seduce anyone he wished.
His skill was not so great and he doubted it ever would be, but fortunately
Tzer didn't seem to mind.
A long boned, slender hand came up and cupped the
back of his head. It was Mikhail's turn to sigh as Tzer's hot lips traced
down over his throat. Someone, not in the room, but nearby began playing
to themselves on a harp.
"I like." Tzer looked up at him, grinning.
"Indeed," he arched his neck and preened, as Avilan
had taught him. Tzer's eyes widened at the gesture. Soft silk ribbons, damp
with roniplin, twined between Tzer's tentacle sheaths. His benumbed fingers
struggled to untie them.
Tzer chuckled softly, his tentacles twining with
Mikhail's fingers and hindering him even more. By the time he was done, his
hands tingled with being coated in roniplin. "I like this, too." He licked
a bit of the sweet fluid from his fingers. Tzer bit at his lower lip, staring
intently at Mikhail's hands.
"Would you like to help?" The dance of flirt and
tease did not come naturally to Mikhail's lips. But to try to tempt Tzer
was easier than he would have dreamed.
Instead of words, Tzer captured one of Mikhail's
hands. Bright sparks glittered behind his eyes as Tzer suckled first one,
then all of his fingers. "Ins'Allah, yes, more," he leaned back against the
seat. His body was growing light with wanting to be free of his selyn. Or
perhaps he was simply becoming lightheaded with lust.
"As you ask, my Alahin." Tiny sharp nips raised
all the hair on his arms. Mikhail shuddered as waves of pleasure brought
out his need. He needed Tzer.
"Do you now?" A strange voice brought him out of
his daze. He blinked, trying to clear his vision.
Another silver haired person, a woman, sat at his
other side. Tzer's glance came up and he stopped suddenly. Steel strong tentacles
wrapped around Mikhail's wrists. He couldn't move. He could hardly breathe!
"Who are you?" Tzer's low growl made Mikhail moan.
There was something primitive and irresistible to the rough tone. "He's mine."
"Is he?" Tiny bells rang as the stranger sat at
his side. "And why would you be so selfish?" Her voice was as smooth as silk,
even as her field seemed to goad Tzer on.
Tzer's mouth opened, then he shrank back.
"What are you doing here?" Mikhail glared at her.
"This is my Home, my home as well." Her silver eyes
were bright. Mikhail had no idea how old she was. She could be anywhere from
thirty to sixty. "What are you doing with this puppy?"
"He's my Alamir." Mikhail's heart sank as Tzer's
tentacles slid from his wrists. "What is it, my pretty one?" He asked, in
Arabic.
"Am I not pretty?" She ran fingers and tentacles
through her waist length silver hair. The woman looked familiar. But then
Mikhail couldn't tell with the odd hair and eyes. Weren't there other Fatimas
of the main line? "Yes, I am of Fatima in one way. I am, however, better
known as the daughter of Madame Halima."
"You tricked my father!" Tzer came alive in his
arms. Mikhail grabbed him back from launching himself at the woman. "You
have no right to be here."
"From what I understand of Russian law, she does,
my love." He stroked Tzer's trembling back. "Leave us." This had not turned
out well at all.
"No, I mean to take you for mine." Her hand landed
on Mikhail's shoulder. It was too close. Tzer didn't hesitate. He bit. And
not with his talents. With his teeth! "Hey!"
Tzer wasn't letting go. As she drew back, he went
with her. Soon he landed on her, on the floor. Mikhail wasn't so sure he
wanted to pull him off her. But when he drew in his field to strike with
his talents, Mikhail yanked the ambient out of his grasp.
The woman's face was as white as her hair.
"I recommend you rethink your plans." He stood,
towering over both of them. Tzer looked up at him. Then he spat in her face.
A thick gobbet of blood and phlegm marred her admittedly beautiful features.
She tried to wipe it off on him, ineffectively. Mikhail smirked.
"Well?" He asked, still not waving Tzer off. A low
growl came from his lover, even though he didn't grab the woman's wrists
or try another lightning strike.
"Have him." She snarled, bucking between Tzer's
knees. Tzer didn't budge. Instead he growled louder, his tentacles coming
out to lace around his hands. Mikhail smiled, hoping she'd take the hint.
"At your will, my Lords."
"You should have remembered that earlier." He snapped,
feeling quite put out. But when Tzer rose off her and came to his side, he
wasn't so sure. The woman pulled out a square of cloth and wiped clean her
face. "Get out of here."
"No," she cocked one hip. Mikhail stepped forward.
The odd, crawling feel of electricity caressed his hand. He raised it to
her. Eyes wide, she stepped back. Fire sweeter than any honey traced his
nerves. The world faded to shadows.
Among them was the outline of white he know was
their tormentor. He reached for her. The sound of a door slamming brought
him back. Turning, he saw Tzer's mouth wide open.
"That wasn't me." He shook his head quickly. "I
don't have the selyn right now for something so extravagant."
"What wasn't?" Mikhail shivered suddenly.
"You called lightning." He grasped Mikhail's hand.
The familiar feel of discharging potential went the wrong way. Mikhail gasped,
trying not to arch into it. Before he'd only taken from Tzer! "Yes, my love."
His smile was slightly crooked. "Although I find it very erotic."
"Oh do you?" He brought up the pattern Nashen had
taught him to find the potentials in Tzer's field. But this time he held
them himself. The exquisite feel of rising energy ran from his scalp to his
toenails.
Tzer trilled, a sound Mikhail'd never heard from
any human throat. Then he had to catch him before he fell to the floor. "Are
you all right?"
"No," he gasped, sliding his hands into Mikhail's
translucent silk shirt. With each stroke, his skin trembled. When Mikhail
returned the favor, Tzer's breath hissed in his throat.
It was too much to resist. In a single grasp, Mikhail
teased out Tzer's tentacles. He had to feel them against his skin. This time
there were no boundaries between them. As true equals, he opened himself
to his love. And this time, there would never be two again.
Avilan watched Mikhail and Tzer throwing snowballs
at each other in the courtyard. Mikhail'd recruited a bunch of house renSimes,
Tzer a equal number of guards. There were probably spears left against walls
all over the great townhouse. Fatima was close to Azov in so many ways.
Karola wormed her way under his arm. "They are so
cute together."
"You say that of all our children." He kissed her
brow, amazed at her having put up with him for so long.
"Because its true." She elbowed him in the ribs.
"Hey, I'm getting old." He complained, holding her
tighter.
"Now they have a chance to." Her hand slid inside
his kador. It was cold! Avilan yelped and moved it under his armpit to warm
it.
"Did I do right?" He'd been one of the ones to vote
for Tzer's ban. Part of him had known it would work out, if only both young
men lived. Their love had been true. Avilan would always vote on the side
of love. Arkay, and later Karola, had taught him as much many years ago.
"Yes, my love." She sighed. "Even though I wasn't
sure at the time. I did trust you."
"I'm glad someone did." He grimaced at the memory
of the fight. Even Tzer's mother, Darya, had argued for his death. She'd
been raped at her fourth. Even the fact Tzer was her son had not been enough
to deter her from what she perceived as justice.
As it was, both the law and the right had been upheld.
Tzer had been reckless. He had raped Mikhail. But it was Mikhail's right
to commute Tzer's punishment, no one else's. "If Arkay hadn't asked for the
ban ... maybe I wouldn't have done right."
"Arkay has more sense than you give him credit for,
sometimes, my love." Her hair was now liberally salted with silver, and her
face lined with the years of bearing children, even though he and Arkay had
gotten to raise them. And she was more beautiful than even the day he'd met
her. Then he'd not known of her brilliant spirit or blazing intelligence.
"Sometimes," he sighed, fingering the bracelet Arkay'd
given him for his ascention. T'aszo had been too poor for even as much as
a simple bracelet. Although it had only been years later that Arkay'd let
slip the information. It was very like the man. "I wish we could have not
put him under ban."
"There I disagree with you." Her sharp tone brought
him up short. "He had to be punished for his crime."
"Even when it was all an accident?" He asked, sighing.
"Afraid so," she shrugged. "We Simes aren't too
clever sometimes. Allowing anyone to get away with such a crime without
punishment would have been wrong."
"You're right, as usual." He conceded, even as he
smiled at the two youngsters turning the forecourt into a battle ground.
With all the renSime power, they'd built huge fortresses across the open
area. Avilan opened the window and leaned out. A huge clump of snow flew
across the yard.
"Did that little brat build a catapult?" Karola
gasped.
"Yes!" Avilan was trying not to laugh so hard they
heard him across the buildings.
"Get 'em, Tzer!" Nothing was holding Karola back.
Nothing ever did. She charged out of the room. Avilan chased her. His kador
was rucked up to his knees. They skidded out into the yard. Another Sime
sized snowball flew through the air. Karola pounded on the door of Tzer's
fort.
Avilan went the other way. Mikhail opened the door.
A normal sized snowball followed him in to smack against the far wall. The
creaking of ropes and hissed breath of renSimes made him duck. A huge whump
and another massive snowball flew into the air.
A huge soggy mass of snow landed right in the middle
of the fort.
"Bloody whores of a misbegotten camel." Mikhail
swore, directing renSimes to unbury their equipment. Avilan finally got a
good look at it. It wasn't really a catapult, but with enough renSimes, the
huge lever could put a lot of snow in the air.
"Ammunition," Avilan pointed to the pile. Mikhail
grinned. Soon they got the ropes unburied, after two more soggy snowballs.
"I'm gonna get you!" Avilan shouted out one of the targeting ports.
Ropes creaked into place. "Odein, Dva, Tre!"
On three, another whump and an enormous snowball went flying. Karola's scream
of outrage echoed off the snow covered walls. Avilan chuckled. Being partners
had nothing to do with snow fights. Besides, both sides were equal, as it
should be.
Or perhaps more than equal, which was even better.
Avilan watched the Lord's fortress collapse under a barrage of huge snowballs.