Today is clearly my lucky Monday.
Jan. 17th, 2005 07:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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rykaine finally finished the snippet she's been working on for me (a seven page snippet, heh). Paradise fans might just recognize two of the people in it. It's posted below, and I was so eager to read it I actually read it at work and almost got busted for slacking off ^^; *loves Sip* A bit of explanation might be required - the other two chars in this story belong to her, and have full, amusing, cute endearing stories of their own. We plan someday to do a collab, which is why you see the four of them here together. And on a sidenote, I gues there might be some sort of spoiler for Paradise? I doubt it, but you're forewarned anyway.
Untitled, by Rykaine
James was bored. He was reciting those goddamned proverbs again. Junior year, his Latin professor had decided they could pick whatever random topic they wanted for their exam, learn it, and be prepared to pass it. Most had picked poems or verses or other equally asinine things. James had picked a list of some fifty proverbs. The night before. Not only had he passed with flying colors, his professor had given him extra credit for the shear randomness of it.
He had been damned proud of himself at the time, and had made it a point to remember them. Now he repeated them whenever he was idle or bored. Anyone else would fidget or twiddle his thumbs. James recited fucking proverbs. In Latin. Son of a bitch.
Val grit his teeth, resisting the urge to put James out of his misery. He had promised Alex he would act with some decorum today. He assumed not shooting his uncle was included in that. Damn pity. Such promises severely depleted the amount of entertainment to be had at these damned conventions.
Val crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at no one in particular, effectively scaring off anyone who got too close. “Why are we here again?”
James paused the litany of phrases, “Stratton wants to go fishing, see if there are any new investments out there.”
“There aren’t.”
“You figured that out in fifteen minutes?”
“In the first five. And so did you.” Someone at a booth across from them was trying to flag their attention. Val attempted to glare him in to backing down, it worked. The kid was obviously new. He had to be if he was begging for the attention of Val Reising and James Montrose. People wanted Stratton’s attention—for many, their very survival depended on Stratton’s money and influence and to gain that, they needed to attract the interest of his enforcers. But they were willing to wait for the enforcers to come to them. No sense in tempting fate. His superior must be explaining that to him now, if the wide-eyed, star-struck look on the kid’s face was any indication.
Val’s scowl darkened. He hated these damned things. “How did we get talked into coming?”
James shrugged, “No one else wanted to come.”
“Did we want to come?”
“No, but you were scaring everyone in Luc’s office.”
“You aren’t without fault, either.” In fact, he was usually the instigator. It was not Val’s fault James had a death wish.
“But I don’t carry a loaded weapon.”
Val glowered, but acknowledged the point. It was the same one Alex always made. Not that James was not scary. He simply was for other reasons. Being built like a fucking brick top on that list. “I could be taking Sasha to lunch right now.”
He was sulking, something Val never did. James grinned cheerfully. “No you couldn’t. He’s holed up in meetings all day. International’s gone to shit, and Alex and Martin are the only two competent enough to sort it out—without taking too damned long.” He grinned even wider at the pout that briefly flitted across Val’s face. Lovesick fool; his nephew had certainly done a turn on the bastard.
“Then I could be at home, waiting for Sasha to get home. Instead of in this damned mess doing absolutely nothing.”
“And what would you be doing at home?”
“Having a much easier time resisting the urge to shoot something.”
“I’m sure Alex appreciates the effort.”
“He goddamned well better.”
“Should I tell him you said that?”
“No.”
James laughed, one of the most dangerous things he could do around Val, but goddamn he could not resist. Alex had the man on a fucking chain. Damn if they did not fall fucking hard. And Val did not even seem to notice. Or maybe he just did not care.
Either way, it was damned hilarious.
Val flashed a warning glare. “What are you laughing at?”
“Not a damned thing.”
Val muttered something he could not understand, but he got the general idea. He grinned again and fell back into his recitation, noting that the circle of space between them and the people passing around them had grown considerably wider. That must be one dark scowl Val was sporting.
Val counted to ten in his head. And kept counting as he reached it and realized his irritation was not easing. His hand was itching for his gun, but he had promised Alex. And Luc would have his head if another ‘incident’ were to happen.
His focus returned at 143, when he realized James was no longer citing Latin. With a tired sigh, he dropped his head in his hands and massaged his temples. Chaucer. In the original fucking Middle English. Perfect. What kind of imbecile studied dead languages, and then took up a career in business, anyway. He was on the edge of breaking his promise. Pleasing Alex be damned, this was justified. James was bad enough on a regular day. James bored out of his mind at a convention was impossible. Certainly Alex would understand.
Though he might have a hell of a time trying to explain it to Solomon and Thomas.
The recitation stopped, and James’s shoulder nudged his. Val snapped a glare at him, but quickly lost it when he saw James’ face. A mischievous glint had entered his eyes, and a feral smile was threatening to split his face apart. “Look who’s here,” he nodded his head, indicating a space just ahead of them. Val did not even have to look to know who it was.
“I thought he was still locked away on that damned island.”
“I’ll bet that son of a bitch Azura snuck him out. He can’t resist us.”
James tilted his head, studying the object of his unwavering attention. He was standing in the middle of a long row of tables and displays representing various companies and programs that were hoping to gain some attention and—even better—some sponsors. He was not paying attention to any of the goings around him, however. A phone was pressed to his ear, and he appeared to be involved in a rather serious conversation. If the frown creasing his brow was any indication. He was pacing back and forth in the aisle, hand in the pocket of his black slacks, back straight, steps slow and measured.
“He’s talking to Terry.”
“Of course he’s talking to Terry. Who but Daddy-dearest could put him on his guard like that?” James smirked. “Well... besides us, at any rate.”
“That was my point.”
“He looks tired,” James said at last.
“He looks hassled.”
“Harried.”
“Busy.”
“Otherwise engaged.”
“Out of patience.”
“Irritable.”
“Unamused.”
Silence followed as they again went back to watching him. At last James shifted, smirk widening to a particularly devious grin. “He looks bored.” He turned to Val, “Did Luc make any stipulations?”
“None that I recall.”
“Alex?”
“Never came up. Tom and Sol?”
“Couldn’t care less.”
James gave a short chuckle and started forward. Val fell into step beside him as they cut their way through the crush of people ambling through the convention center. His back was to them when they approached, so they stopped directly in his path, waiting for him to turn around and resume his pacing in the other direction. He had barely started back when he noticed them.
Xavier Lord swore darkly when he saw them, James the grinning personification of mischievous, Val right beside him, amused glint showing just behind his eyes. They had both assumed those stances that said they had nowhere to be and they were perfectly content to remain right where they were. Ex swore again, remembering this time that he was still speaking into the phone.
He glowered at them as he hastily murmured an apology to his father. They had not even done anything yet, and already they were causing trouble. He hung up a few seconds later. It was never wise to be distracted when those two were around. Looking to cause trouble.
He inclined his head in greeting, “Reising. Montrose. What a surprise to see you here.”
“You don’t sound too surprised.” James quirked an eyebrow at Val. “Does he sound surprised to you?”
“More like… resigned.”
Ex pocketed his phone, assuming a stance that resembled their own. “Gentlemen, how does the day find you?”
“Bored mostly,” James grinned. “How’s Terry? Heart-attack eminent?”
“That would require a heart, James.”
“Indeed it would. What about the playboy? Is he around?”
“My brother has more interesting things with which to occupy his time.”
“I’m certain he does,” James smiled distractedly, looking around the crowded hall, “Is that pretty blond still with him?”
Ex held his tongue. He knew from experience to let these two run their course without interuption. Whatever he said would only fuel the demons, and he could only guess what would happen then. The worst they had ever done was send half the convention center up in a blaze. Not technically Val’s fault, as whoever was responsible for the wiring had done a shitty job. But still, he should have known better than to fire into a crowded room anyway.
Besides, the less he said, the faster they ran out of things to throw back at him, and the quicker they left. Presumably. It had not happened yet, but it was a working theory. And with luck it would prove itself today. Trick was gone now, but he was guaranteed to be back soon. He had gone through a lot of trouble dragging his ass off the island to begin with, there was no way Trick was going to leave him alone for more than a few minutes. Especially if he had the slightest suspicion these two were lurking about.
Trick had an amazing sixth sense about that. But with Val and James, it was an invaluable trait being able to know these things in advance.
And speak of the devil, there he was. Looking none too pleased judging by the set of his jaw.
James registered the subtle shift in Ex’s face, the way some of the tension and annoyance just smoothed away and knew Patrick Azura was there before he had even spoken. And when he did, the smooth, irritated drawl was more than enough confirmation.
“You can’t be so bored with your little harem already, surely, James....”
James turned to face him, eyebrows raised and a sneer in his voice. “I resent the implication that I’d lose interest in either so quickly. Despite your opinion of me, I’m not so fickle.” His frown lost some of its severity as he paused in thought. “You do bring up an interesting point, however,” his grin returned, all evidence of personal affront vanished, “how many does it take to qualify as a harem. Do you know, Val?” He glanced away to see Val shrug disinterestedly, then turned back to Trick, “You Trickster? You’re the one who brought it up?”
“My brother will not be the solution to your dilemma.”
“Of course not, Ex,” James winked, “But do let ‘Bastion and the blond—oh what’s his name, Val? Paws or talons or whatever....”
“Klaus.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Claws. Do tell pretty boy and claws I asked after them.”
“I don’t think that’s a message they’ll be receiving, James.”
James shrugged, “That’s ok, I’ll pass it along myself. I know where they live.”
Both men visibly flinched. Ex closed his eyes and tried to retrieve some of his quickly fading patience. One of these days he was going to figure out how to get these two off his back. Before Trick got that look in his eye. “I’m not enough entertainment that you have to go after my brother now?”
“More or less. Something wrong with you eye, Trickster? The color looks a little... off.” Trick scowled and took a step forward. James raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Yes.”
“Want to take it outside?”
“Gladly.”
“Trick.”
Both men stopped mid-step and turned. Ex was glaring now, too, but his gaze was not focused on James. He smirked. “I guess he’s not just mad at Val and me now, is he?”
“Shut the hell up, Montrose.”
“Is that an order, Azura?”
“I can still kick your ass.”
“You think so?” It was an idle taunt. They both knew it was true. While there were a handful of men who could validate challenging James Montrose, Patrick Azura was the only one who could guarantee a victory. It was not a fact they had ever bothered to prove, but then, they knew they did not need to.
Not that such knowledge did anything to prevent James from provoking him. Trick took another step forward. “I know so.”
“Trick.”
“That is not a happy tone.”
A ringing chime interrupted Trick’s comment. They turned to see Val pull a phone from his pocket. James rolled his eyes; the expression on his face said it all. God he hoped he did not look that pathetic when Solomon or Thomas called him. Val pressed the receive button. “Sasha?” He then switched immediately into French and turned his back to the group, talking fast but still managing to sound aggravatingly polite.
James tilted Trick a wry grin, “Busted, I think.”
“Is the ball and chain spoiling your fun?”
“As I recall, Trickster, the only thing preventing you from beating my head in is your own ball and chain.
“I don’t suggest you agree with that, Trick.” Ex was looking far from amused. James grinned. He and Val always brought out the best in Xavier.
His own phone rang and a glance at the display panel made him laugh. “Excuse me, gentlemen. The boss requires my attention.”
“Luc?—Listen, do you suppose you could yell at me in Latin or Old English or something? Hell, what’s that one you know? I’ll pretend to understand. Not like I haven’t heard this one before...—Because Alex is yelling at Val in French, and I just thought it would maybe look cool if I could receive an ass chewing in another language, too.—You’re absolutely right, Luc. This isn’t the time to be making jokes.—Of course not; I’m never a smart ass.—Fortunately for you, no. See, I was going to, but there’s something wrong with Trickster’s eye. Looks contagious, and Lord knows I don’t want anything he’s got.—Play on words?—Right. Absolutely. On our way out even as we speak.—Better make it fifteen.”
He and Val ended their calls at the same time. “Well,” James addressed Ex and Trick again, “It seems we’ve somehow overstepped our bounds.”
“Again,” Val qualified. “We must, therefore, bid you men good day and take our leave.”
“Post haste.”
“Enjoy the flight back to the island.”
“Yes, yes. And Ex, do tell Sebastion to expect my call.” James winked. “Until the next moment our paths meet.”
They turned and left without a backward glance. Ex and Trick watched them leave, noting how much calmer the center suddenly seemed. “Well,” Trick watched to make sure they actually exited the building, “at least Reising didn’t shoot anything this time...”
Ex sighed. “That might have been preferable. At least then I’d have had an excuse to leave early.” He fished the phone from his pocket and started dialing his father’s number. “I have to call my father back. They interrupted our conversation earlier; he wasn’t happy.”
“And you loved every damned minute of it.”
Ex gave a derisive snort. “Not a chance in hell.” He was smiling when his father answered at the other end.
R)jagen13 is doing a mini comic for her story Angel of Caffeine. If you don't recognize that story, you missed out. But don't worry, now that I know guilt tripping her works wonders I plan on having the whole story up again by spring ^_~
5)blue_soaring and ponderosa121 wrote me some splendid Edgar/Sabin drabbles. I've coped them below, since I figure that's easier than digigng through all the comments for them.
Edgar/Sabin - Not in Gold - by Blue Soaring
The castle at night is quiet, as still and silent as the sands stretching far beyond the ancient stone walls. Anticipation runs hot through his veins, the thrill of it makes his breath trip and his heart beat faster and then faster still. Every door passed is one step closer, every one remaining is one more chance of discovery.
His reasons are carefully worded, flawlessly planned. It's little more than an opportunity to practice the statecraft drilled into his head day after day. Gestures, tone, inflection, he makes sport of an art and couldn't care less about the disapproving lines etched deep on his father's face.
It's the disapproval that makes his steps light for fear of being caught, the shame and the excitement and the unbearable desire for just once more that curls in his stomach like something alive and greedy. It's never satisfied, there'll always be just once more after this, just once more after that.
If only the king could see him now.
A hand catches his arm, and for a moment, he's certain he's finally been caught; he can feel his pulse on the back of his tongue. And he is caught, trapped by the touch of overheated skin, by the sound of breaths as fast and frantic as his own.
It's wrong, the way he lets Sabin touch him, the way he taught his younger brother to touch, to tease, to shove warm tongue, slick fingers and hard dick deep inside him over and over again. It's wrong but so very right to taste Sabin's come on his lips and feel it trail warm and slippery over his thighs.
He promises himself this time will be the last, but when Sabin's breath washes hot and heavy across his cheek, and he hears the harsh whisper of, "Brother," into his ear, he knows he'll feel everything all over again, just one more time.
Edgar/Sabin - Lost and Found - by Ponderosa121
"Do you remember before Father died..."
Edgar lifted his head from his book. Sabin was standing by the window, his arms folded across his bare chest, and his bright blue eyes stared out across the sea of clouds. The airship's engines were quiet, but Edgar had to strain to hear his brother's voice.
"We vowed to always be together.... I'm sorry I left."
"What's done is done," Edgar replied. "It's all in the past now."
The muscles of Sabin's back tightened visibly. "And us?" he ventured.
Edgar hesitated. How swiftly he could find the right words while sitting on the throne, but choosing the right path for himself was vastly different than doing so for his kingdom. "I'll always love you, Sabin," he said, and let his brother decide the extent of what he meant.
"What's with all the women?" Sabin asked.
Edgar chuckled. "The thrill is in the chase. I'm not sure what I'd do if I caught one!"
Sabin turned away from the window. "We used to play tag before Father died, too." He ran a finger along the thin line of blonde hair trailing down from his navel, and added conversationally, "Would you know what to do... if you caught me?"
"I may have some idea. I've learned a few tricks since then." Edgar's pulse began to race in his veins at the memory of those wild games that always ended in nervous kisses, and his fingers trembled as he put a marker in his book. "You always lost though, remember?"
Sabin rocked back on his heels and flashed rows of perfect white teeth. "I'm faster now."
"In that case, you only get a five second head start instead of ten."
Sabin shot towards the exit immediately, but disregarding the promised five seconds, Edgar leapt out of his chair with a giddy laugh and made it to the door first.
"No fair," Sabin protested, skidding into him.
"I've never been above cheating."
"I never knew," Sabin whispered as long fingers reached up to stroke his face.
Edgar pressed his forehead against Sabin's and let his hands slide down to clasp his brother's strong neck. Sabin closed his eyes when Edgar's thumb came to rest feather-light against the hammering beat in his throat. "Thank you," Sabin said.
"When all of this is over with," Edgar murmured, "come back with me to Figaro." His lips brushed dry against Sabin's. "Come back home."
"Home," Sabin repeated quietly.
"Yes, home," Edgar said, breathing the word into his brother's mouth.
rykaine finally finished the snippet she's been working on for me (a seven page snippet, heh). Paradise fans might just recognize two of the people in it. It's posted below, and I was so eager to read it I actually read it at work and almost got busted for slacking off ^^; *loves Sip* A bit of explanation might be required - the other two chars in this story belong to her, and have full, amusing, Untitled, by Rykaine
James was bored. He was reciting those goddamned proverbs again. Junior year, his Latin professor had decided they could pick whatever random topic they wanted for their exam, learn it, and be prepared to pass it. Most had picked poems or verses or other equally asinine things. James had picked a list of some fifty proverbs. The night before. Not only had he passed with flying colors, his professor had given him extra credit for the shear randomness of it.
He had been damned proud of himself at the time, and had made it a point to remember them. Now he repeated them whenever he was idle or bored. Anyone else would fidget or twiddle his thumbs. James recited fucking proverbs. In Latin. Son of a bitch.
Val grit his teeth, resisting the urge to put James out of his misery. He had promised Alex he would act with some decorum today. He assumed not shooting his uncle was included in that. Damn pity. Such promises severely depleted the amount of entertainment to be had at these damned conventions.
Val crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at no one in particular, effectively scaring off anyone who got too close. “Why are we here again?”
James paused the litany of phrases, “Stratton wants to go fishing, see if there are any new investments out there.”
“There aren’t.”
“You figured that out in fifteen minutes?”
“In the first five. And so did you.” Someone at a booth across from them was trying to flag their attention. Val attempted to glare him in to backing down, it worked. The kid was obviously new. He had to be if he was begging for the attention of Val Reising and James Montrose. People wanted Stratton’s attention—for many, their very survival depended on Stratton’s money and influence and to gain that, they needed to attract the interest of his enforcers. But they were willing to wait for the enforcers to come to them. No sense in tempting fate. His superior must be explaining that to him now, if the wide-eyed, star-struck look on the kid’s face was any indication.
Val’s scowl darkened. He hated these damned things. “How did we get talked into coming?”
James shrugged, “No one else wanted to come.”
“Did we want to come?”
“No, but you were scaring everyone in Luc’s office.”
“You aren’t without fault, either.” In fact, he was usually the instigator. It was not Val’s fault James had a death wish.
“But I don’t carry a loaded weapon.”
Val glowered, but acknowledged the point. It was the same one Alex always made. Not that James was not scary. He simply was for other reasons. Being built like a fucking brick top on that list. “I could be taking Sasha to lunch right now.”
He was sulking, something Val never did. James grinned cheerfully. “No you couldn’t. He’s holed up in meetings all day. International’s gone to shit, and Alex and Martin are the only two competent enough to sort it out—without taking too damned long.” He grinned even wider at the pout that briefly flitted across Val’s face. Lovesick fool; his nephew had certainly done a turn on the bastard.
“Then I could be at home, waiting for Sasha to get home. Instead of in this damned mess doing absolutely nothing.”
“And what would you be doing at home?”
“Having a much easier time resisting the urge to shoot something.”
“I’m sure Alex appreciates the effort.”
“He goddamned well better.”
“Should I tell him you said that?”
“No.”
James laughed, one of the most dangerous things he could do around Val, but goddamn he could not resist. Alex had the man on a fucking chain. Damn if they did not fall fucking hard. And Val did not even seem to notice. Or maybe he just did not care.
Either way, it was damned hilarious.
Val flashed a warning glare. “What are you laughing at?”
“Not a damned thing.”
Val muttered something he could not understand, but he got the general idea. He grinned again and fell back into his recitation, noting that the circle of space between them and the people passing around them had grown considerably wider. That must be one dark scowl Val was sporting.
Val counted to ten in his head. And kept counting as he reached it and realized his irritation was not easing. His hand was itching for his gun, but he had promised Alex. And Luc would have his head if another ‘incident’ were to happen.
His focus returned at 143, when he realized James was no longer citing Latin. With a tired sigh, he dropped his head in his hands and massaged his temples. Chaucer. In the original fucking Middle English. Perfect. What kind of imbecile studied dead languages, and then took up a career in business, anyway. He was on the edge of breaking his promise. Pleasing Alex be damned, this was justified. James was bad enough on a regular day. James bored out of his mind at a convention was impossible. Certainly Alex would understand.
Though he might have a hell of a time trying to explain it to Solomon and Thomas.
The recitation stopped, and James’s shoulder nudged his. Val snapped a glare at him, but quickly lost it when he saw James’ face. A mischievous glint had entered his eyes, and a feral smile was threatening to split his face apart. “Look who’s here,” he nodded his head, indicating a space just ahead of them. Val did not even have to look to know who it was.
“I thought he was still locked away on that damned island.”
“I’ll bet that son of a bitch Azura snuck him out. He can’t resist us.”
James tilted his head, studying the object of his unwavering attention. He was standing in the middle of a long row of tables and displays representing various companies and programs that were hoping to gain some attention and—even better—some sponsors. He was not paying attention to any of the goings around him, however. A phone was pressed to his ear, and he appeared to be involved in a rather serious conversation. If the frown creasing his brow was any indication. He was pacing back and forth in the aisle, hand in the pocket of his black slacks, back straight, steps slow and measured.
“He’s talking to Terry.”
“Of course he’s talking to Terry. Who but Daddy-dearest could put him on his guard like that?” James smirked. “Well... besides us, at any rate.”
“That was my point.”
“He looks tired,” James said at last.
“He looks hassled.”
“Harried.”
“Busy.”
“Otherwise engaged.”
“Out of patience.”
“Irritable.”
“Unamused.”
Silence followed as they again went back to watching him. At last James shifted, smirk widening to a particularly devious grin. “He looks bored.” He turned to Val, “Did Luc make any stipulations?”
“None that I recall.”
“Alex?”
“Never came up. Tom and Sol?”
“Couldn’t care less.”
James gave a short chuckle and started forward. Val fell into step beside him as they cut their way through the crush of people ambling through the convention center. His back was to them when they approached, so they stopped directly in his path, waiting for him to turn around and resume his pacing in the other direction. He had barely started back when he noticed them.
Xavier Lord swore darkly when he saw them, James the grinning personification of mischievous, Val right beside him, amused glint showing just behind his eyes. They had both assumed those stances that said they had nowhere to be and they were perfectly content to remain right where they were. Ex swore again, remembering this time that he was still speaking into the phone.
He glowered at them as he hastily murmured an apology to his father. They had not even done anything yet, and already they were causing trouble. He hung up a few seconds later. It was never wise to be distracted when those two were around. Looking to cause trouble.
He inclined his head in greeting, “Reising. Montrose. What a surprise to see you here.”
“You don’t sound too surprised.” James quirked an eyebrow at Val. “Does he sound surprised to you?”
“More like… resigned.”
Ex pocketed his phone, assuming a stance that resembled their own. “Gentlemen, how does the day find you?”
“Bored mostly,” James grinned. “How’s Terry? Heart-attack eminent?”
“That would require a heart, James.”
“Indeed it would. What about the playboy? Is he around?”
“My brother has more interesting things with which to occupy his time.”
“I’m certain he does,” James smiled distractedly, looking around the crowded hall, “Is that pretty blond still with him?”
Ex held his tongue. He knew from experience to let these two run their course without interuption. Whatever he said would only fuel the demons, and he could only guess what would happen then. The worst they had ever done was send half the convention center up in a blaze. Not technically Val’s fault, as whoever was responsible for the wiring had done a shitty job. But still, he should have known better than to fire into a crowded room anyway.
Besides, the less he said, the faster they ran out of things to throw back at him, and the quicker they left. Presumably. It had not happened yet, but it was a working theory. And with luck it would prove itself today. Trick was gone now, but he was guaranteed to be back soon. He had gone through a lot of trouble dragging his ass off the island to begin with, there was no way Trick was going to leave him alone for more than a few minutes. Especially if he had the slightest suspicion these two were lurking about.
Trick had an amazing sixth sense about that. But with Val and James, it was an invaluable trait being able to know these things in advance.
And speak of the devil, there he was. Looking none too pleased judging by the set of his jaw.
James registered the subtle shift in Ex’s face, the way some of the tension and annoyance just smoothed away and knew Patrick Azura was there before he had even spoken. And when he did, the smooth, irritated drawl was more than enough confirmation.
“You can’t be so bored with your little harem already, surely, James....”
James turned to face him, eyebrows raised and a sneer in his voice. “I resent the implication that I’d lose interest in either so quickly. Despite your opinion of me, I’m not so fickle.” His frown lost some of its severity as he paused in thought. “You do bring up an interesting point, however,” his grin returned, all evidence of personal affront vanished, “how many does it take to qualify as a harem. Do you know, Val?” He glanced away to see Val shrug disinterestedly, then turned back to Trick, “You Trickster? You’re the one who brought it up?”
“My brother will not be the solution to your dilemma.”
“Of course not, Ex,” James winked, “But do let ‘Bastion and the blond—oh what’s his name, Val? Paws or talons or whatever....”
“Klaus.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Claws. Do tell pretty boy and claws I asked after them.”
“I don’t think that’s a message they’ll be receiving, James.”
James shrugged, “That’s ok, I’ll pass it along myself. I know where they live.”
Both men visibly flinched. Ex closed his eyes and tried to retrieve some of his quickly fading patience. One of these days he was going to figure out how to get these two off his back. Before Trick got that look in his eye. “I’m not enough entertainment that you have to go after my brother now?”
“More or less. Something wrong with you eye, Trickster? The color looks a little... off.” Trick scowled and took a step forward. James raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Yes.”
“Want to take it outside?”
“Gladly.”
“Trick.”
Both men stopped mid-step and turned. Ex was glaring now, too, but his gaze was not focused on James. He smirked. “I guess he’s not just mad at Val and me now, is he?”
“Shut the hell up, Montrose.”
“Is that an order, Azura?”
“I can still kick your ass.”
“You think so?” It was an idle taunt. They both knew it was true. While there were a handful of men who could validate challenging James Montrose, Patrick Azura was the only one who could guarantee a victory. It was not a fact they had ever bothered to prove, but then, they knew they did not need to.
Not that such knowledge did anything to prevent James from provoking him. Trick took another step forward. “I know so.”
“Trick.”
“That is not a happy tone.”
A ringing chime interrupted Trick’s comment. They turned to see Val pull a phone from his pocket. James rolled his eyes; the expression on his face said it all. God he hoped he did not look that pathetic when Solomon or Thomas called him. Val pressed the receive button. “Sasha?” He then switched immediately into French and turned his back to the group, talking fast but still managing to sound aggravatingly polite.
James tilted Trick a wry grin, “Busted, I think.”
“Is the ball and chain spoiling your fun?”
“As I recall, Trickster, the only thing preventing you from beating my head in is your own ball and chain.
“I don’t suggest you agree with that, Trick.” Ex was looking far from amused. James grinned. He and Val always brought out the best in Xavier.
His own phone rang and a glance at the display panel made him laugh. “Excuse me, gentlemen. The boss requires my attention.”
“Luc?—Listen, do you suppose you could yell at me in Latin or Old English or something? Hell, what’s that one you know? I’ll pretend to understand. Not like I haven’t heard this one before...—Because Alex is yelling at Val in French, and I just thought it would maybe look cool if I could receive an ass chewing in another language, too.—You’re absolutely right, Luc. This isn’t the time to be making jokes.—Of course not; I’m never a smart ass.—Fortunately for you, no. See, I was going to, but there’s something wrong with Trickster’s eye. Looks contagious, and Lord knows I don’t want anything he’s got.—Play on words?—Right. Absolutely. On our way out even as we speak.—Better make it fifteen.”
He and Val ended their calls at the same time. “Well,” James addressed Ex and Trick again, “It seems we’ve somehow overstepped our bounds.”
“Again,” Val qualified. “We must, therefore, bid you men good day and take our leave.”
“Post haste.”
“Enjoy the flight back to the island.”
“Yes, yes. And Ex, do tell Sebastion to expect my call.” James winked. “Until the next moment our paths meet.”
They turned and left without a backward glance. Ex and Trick watched them leave, noting how much calmer the center suddenly seemed. “Well,” Trick watched to make sure they actually exited the building, “at least Reising didn’t shoot anything this time...”
Ex sighed. “That might have been preferable. At least then I’d have had an excuse to leave early.” He fished the phone from his pocket and started dialing his father’s number. “I have to call my father back. They interrupted our conversation earlier; he wasn’t happy.”
“And you loved every damned minute of it.”
Ex gave a derisive snort. “Not a chance in hell.” He was smiling when his father answered at the other end.
R)
jagen13 is doing a mini comic for her story Angel of Caffeine. If you don't recognize that story, you missed out. But don't worry, now that I know guilt tripping her works wonders I plan on having the whole story up again by spring ^_~5)
blue_soaring and ponderosa121 wrote me some splendid Edgar/Sabin drabbles. I've coped them below, since I figure that's easier than digigng through all the comments for them.Edgar/Sabin - Not in Gold - by Blue Soaring
The castle at night is quiet, as still and silent as the sands stretching far beyond the ancient stone walls. Anticipation runs hot through his veins, the thrill of it makes his breath trip and his heart beat faster and then faster still. Every door passed is one step closer, every one remaining is one more chance of discovery.
His reasons are carefully worded, flawlessly planned. It's little more than an opportunity to practice the statecraft drilled into his head day after day. Gestures, tone, inflection, he makes sport of an art and couldn't care less about the disapproving lines etched deep on his father's face.
It's the disapproval that makes his steps light for fear of being caught, the shame and the excitement and the unbearable desire for just once more that curls in his stomach like something alive and greedy. It's never satisfied, there'll always be just once more after this, just once more after that.
If only the king could see him now.
A hand catches his arm, and for a moment, he's certain he's finally been caught; he can feel his pulse on the back of his tongue. And he is caught, trapped by the touch of overheated skin, by the sound of breaths as fast and frantic as his own.
It's wrong, the way he lets Sabin touch him, the way he taught his younger brother to touch, to tease, to shove warm tongue, slick fingers and hard dick deep inside him over and over again. It's wrong but so very right to taste Sabin's come on his lips and feel it trail warm and slippery over his thighs.
He promises himself this time will be the last, but when Sabin's breath washes hot and heavy across his cheek, and he hears the harsh whisper of, "Brother," into his ear, he knows he'll feel everything all over again, just one more time.
Edgar/Sabin - Lost and Found - by Ponderosa121
"Do you remember before Father died..."
Edgar lifted his head from his book. Sabin was standing by the window, his arms folded across his bare chest, and his bright blue eyes stared out across the sea of clouds. The airship's engines were quiet, but Edgar had to strain to hear his brother's voice.
"We vowed to always be together.... I'm sorry I left."
"What's done is done," Edgar replied. "It's all in the past now."
The muscles of Sabin's back tightened visibly. "And us?" he ventured.
Edgar hesitated. How swiftly he could find the right words while sitting on the throne, but choosing the right path for himself was vastly different than doing so for his kingdom. "I'll always love you, Sabin," he said, and let his brother decide the extent of what he meant.
"What's with all the women?" Sabin asked.
Edgar chuckled. "The thrill is in the chase. I'm not sure what I'd do if I caught one!"
Sabin turned away from the window. "We used to play tag before Father died, too." He ran a finger along the thin line of blonde hair trailing down from his navel, and added conversationally, "Would you know what to do... if you caught me?"
"I may have some idea. I've learned a few tricks since then." Edgar's pulse began to race in his veins at the memory of those wild games that always ended in nervous kisses, and his fingers trembled as he put a marker in his book. "You always lost though, remember?"
Sabin rocked back on his heels and flashed rows of perfect white teeth. "I'm faster now."
"In that case, you only get a five second head start instead of ten."
Sabin shot towards the exit immediately, but disregarding the promised five seconds, Edgar leapt out of his chair with a giddy laugh and made it to the door first.
"No fair," Sabin protested, skidding into him.
"I've never been above cheating."
"I never knew," Sabin whispered as long fingers reached up to stroke his face.
Edgar pressed his forehead against Sabin's and let his hands slide down to clasp his brother's strong neck. Sabin closed his eyes when Edgar's thumb came to rest feather-light against the hammering beat in his throat. "Thank you," Sabin said.
"When all of this is over with," Edgar murmured, "come back with me to Figaro." His lips brushed dry against Sabin's. "Come back home."
"Home," Sabin repeated quietly.
"Yes, home," Edgar said, breathing the word into his brother's mouth.
