WandWpart17

I went to the tent Carson had set aside for me first, half expecting him to be there. He wasn't. I absently noticed, once I lit a brazier, that the inside was much tidier than usual. A small stack of books and a leather knapsack I hadn't seen before sat by the right side of the bed. Probably Jalin's stuff, he'd said he'd be bringing it over. I eyed the books doubtfully. There were half a dozen, stacked so rigidly you would've thought they'd been arranged with a ruler. The velvets were pulled straight and tight over the bed, not tumbled into a haphazard comfortable pile. Even the cabinets seemed to gleam a bit more than usual, as if someone had polished them.

Both Carson and I are more or less slobs. I mean, we're not filthy pigs, but we tend to leave stuff where we drop it and pick it up later when we get around to it. In Berkeley, we'd never bothered to do dishes until the sink was halfway full, or until we ran out of plates or silverware. Laundry was something you did when you realized that if you didn't take it down to the corner in a few days, you'd be walking around naked or stinky. And there was always a sort of comfortable clutter, a lived in look as it were, to whatever digs we shared. I was a musician, he was an artist and computer hacker. Need I say more? Half-finished paintings and song lyrics, musical equipment and hard drives waiting to be inserted always were strewn about in our wake. It's been my experience that creative people are rarely ultra-neat, unless they've got some personality problem.

If I'd thought about it, I would've expected Jalin to be even worse, him being a teenager and all. Of course tribal kids didn't have comics and Gameboy crap to strew around, but still! Instead, from the looks of things, he seemed to be going for the title of Master of the Cleaning Spell. Unless he'd done all this tidying manually, which I nervously refused to believe.

I tossed that thought from my mind and went questing for my backpack. I was sick of these thin tribal clothes. I wanted some goddamn jeans and a teeshirt. Because I wanted to feel like a Berkeley boy again? Well, no. The summer clothes for Rider guys were too comfortable, too soft, too

That was it. I wasn't sure how Carson would respond to me at first. Oh, I knew how it would work out in the long run; nothing could separate us forever, maybe not even death. I knew that now. But at first, he might be angry. I needed to be armored against any possible rejection, I needed to be me. And for some reason, stonewashed jeans and a tee-shirt with some smart-ass slogan were more "me" than any tribal casual wear, or even tribal leathers.

I found my stuff by the left side of the bed, my side. Not stored away in a cabinet, nor neatened by Jalin. Pretty much in the casual jumble I'd left it. As if there was no doubt I would come back. That, at least, warmed me.

So. Into the black Levis, the black tee-shirt that stated uncompromisingly "I AM NUCKING FUTS!" I even put on sneakers. If I'd ever worn underwear since turning twenty-five, now would've been the time I put it on. Why was I going through the dressing for a date crap?

I'd hurt him. With magic. Something I'd sworn I would never, ever do. Oh sure, sometimes when he pissed me off I'd think about it, even threaten him out loud. It didn't matter; he'd known my unspoken promise, and I'd broken it in the worst possible way. Didn't matter who had been in my body at the time. There are always reasons, always excuses. And then there are results.

Dressed and ready, the long dragonsword a quivering, magic-filled presence held in both hands like an offering, I walked those fourteen steps to the High King's tent to find him.

I guess I expected him to be in the same condition I figured I would, in such a case. Which was probably lying beneath my covers sniveling and beating off. Or at the other end of the scale, pacing and gibbering in a worried frenzy that had nothing to do with coffee. In any case, the lights would be dim to suit my mood.

He hadn't bothered to lace or even close the tent flap. Easy enough to claim elven skill, tuck the sword under one arm, step inside and to the side, hide in what shadows there were. I wanted a fix on what was going on here, before revealing myself. Call me a cautious soul.

Carson was seated in that decadent throne-like chair, legs drawn up a bit. Scowling, as he watched Smitty pace angrily before him. His elbow rested on one knee, and he was leaning forward slightly to balance his chin on his fist. His hair hung heavily around him, wavy as it became when first released from ceremonial braids. Flowing down the chair almost to the ground. He looked bored and angry and very, very tired.

And oh my God. So fucking beautiful. I processed the black knee-boots, the dark blue leggings and silky black shirt long enough to be a tunic. Which was a good thing, those leggings were the tight kind and showed every ripple of muscle in his thighs. What they'd be showing if the damn shirt were any shorter, I won't even go into.

"Dammit, Carson, you're wanting to establish trade but you won't consider Neajiri? Why the hell not? They have everything we need and want everything we have! It's a no-brainer!" Smitty was in her usual loose white robes, tied at the waist with a silver cord. It was good that the official shaman garb was so plain; with all her tattoos and piercings, Smitty in the gypsy fabric these people preferred might have put someone's eyes out.

"Ships, the man says! And him with nothing but a bunch of warhorses to sit his ass on! Where do you intend to get these ships, you big California idiot? Got a magic genie I don't know about?"

Carson studied her coolly. "We have defeated these very Southerners you prate about trading with. I shall take their damn ships for my own use. They owe us tribute, yes? And their ships are the finest, despite the makers thereof being pig-fucking crossbreeds of diseased rats. Yes? Then I see no problem."

All Smitty could do was sputter for a second or two. And despite my vague annoyance that Carson didn't exactly seem to be pining away for me, I had to grin. He sure knew how to piss that woman off. She looked about ready to pop.

"You just don't have a clue about diplomacy, do you? It's drive on in and take what you want, damn the torpedoes and any practical problems along the way. Christ, even McIntyre would have sense enough to admit it!"

He didn't answer. He just stared at her; his face had changed from bored to bleak in an instant, and his eyes were as empty as I'd ever seen them. Not furious as you'd expect. Empty.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, as she continued to apologize. Now, that was even worse. The tone he said it in, he actually meant "Nothing matters." Well, shit, if it ever was time to make an entrance, this was it.

If I had been a ghost stepping in to yell "Boo!" at them, I couldn't have gotten their attention so thoroughly, or stunned them so absolutely. Smitty's mouth fell open so far I figured her chin hit her chest. Carson's eyes went to me and froze there, but the emptiness didn't fill, it only turned wary. Yet his face drained of color until he looked like the ghost.

"I mean," I gabbled, not sure what to make of this reaction, "Neajiri is in the South, but not of the South, if you catch my drift. I mean, dwarves even trade there, and you know how suspicious those little bastards are. Hmm, well maybe you don't. I, er, had a dwarf in my party once when I was questing, so I know."

"And, and, Carson, I really wouldn't count on that tribute from the South, they're planning to screw you over, if you've sent any delegations I hope they were well armed, I, uh, brought you a present well, hell's bells!" I dropped the sword to the carpet in exasperation as they still continued to gape at me. "Don't fucking say 'Welcome back' or any of that shit!"

I imagine she was intending to run over and hug me then, but she missed her chance. Because Carson was up, moving with that blinding speed that was so uncanny in a person his size. On me in an instant, face so white and intense I honestly didn't know whether he intended to kiss me or kill me or what.

Caught. I was caught in a grip that lifted me right the fuck off the ground, laughing and swearing as the damn fool threatened to break my ribs with it. Oh, this was the welcome I'd wanted, even though his face had no welcome in it yet, still pale and deadly as he lowered me down with the utmost gentleness this time. But not letting go. His eyes pierced mine like daggers as he whispered, "You left me."

"You can't promise that. I don't believe you." Jesus, he looked like a psycho. I still wasn't sure if it would be kiss or kill, but his arms were still around me and so it was impossible to be afraid. Of anything, even him.

I managed to lever one arm free of his grip, and reached up to touch the sheer ice of his face. "Hey, I fuck up more often than I like. I can be a damned idiot. But have I ever lied to you?"

I could feel Smitty hovering on the edge of things, nearly bouncing up and down with the need to get her hug in. But not even that New York tough bitch had the balls to interrupt this.

I don't know what it was that changed in his face, but the craziness leached away slowly. And slowly, he smiled at me, and lowered his head so that his face was tucked into my hair. "Sensei," he breathed, and his body relaxed against mine. And everything was all right, except maybe for that big damn lump in my throat that had come from I don't know where.

I'm not sure how long he held me. And I held him, my cheek against his chest, my arms around him, hands spread on his back and moving in slow soothing circles. With these damn warriors, their muscles are so hard you don't know if they're tense or not. But I did it anyway.

Somehow, I'd expected the elven senses to just horny me up to the max. One touch from him and I'd be jumping his bones. Truth to tell, that was more like the old me. Impatient. Christ, Carson, enough foreplay already, let's do it, shall we?

I'd never expected this peace, this silken happiness, just from being held by him. And I don't think it had a thing to do with anything elven. That I could feel every soft kiss he was placing on the top of my head flame into my scalp with sheer bliss, well, that might have been the elf thing.

"Yoo hoo, yoo hoo. Jesus Christ, look at them. Makes you want to gag." I gradually became aware of Smitty, off to the side and actually pounding on Carson's ribs as if she were knocking on a door.

I felt Carson's head finally lift and turn, heard him growl, "What now, damn you!" And the faint smile I knew was on my face just grew. He sounded as pissed off and dangerous as a rattlesnake poked with a stick. Most people would think this was a bad thing, but there was certainly no emptiness or despair in that bark. Worked for me. Especially as the ire was directed towards someone else.

Smitty stood her ground with admirable if foolish courage. "I know this is the big reunion and all, but other people would like to welcome the damn fool back with a hug or two, dammit!"

Carson grunted irritably. Held me just a few seconds longer, I suspect just to prove that he would do so all damn night long if he chose. Then he let me go, as reluctantly as if he were gum being pulled off a hot sidewalk.

The moment he was finally out of her way, Smitty was right there and laying a liplock on me that I'd pretty much expected. So I hugged and kissed her back, making sure to emphasize the gross, wet smacking sound effects to the best of my ability. She yanked away first, laughing and wiping spit off her lips. "Asshole! You damn trouble magnet, I can't believe I'm so glad to see someone like you!"

"Well, I'm told I've been acting somewhat psycho the last few days. But believe me, being glad to see your ass really qualifies me for the funny farm, lady." Damn woman had some nerve; I mean, Carson hadn't even really kissed me yet.

"Me, too. I know who took me. I don't know exactly where I was in the meantime. Probably just farther back in my own head. But I learned a lot of stuff. Valuable stuff." I glanced at Carson, whose eyes hadn't left me. No, definitely not empty now. Filled with a variety of things, top of which was the wish that Smitty would drop over dead so he could go back to holding me. "It wasn't really a fair trade-off, to my mind. Just a magic sword and knowledge of those Southern idiots plotting to hook up with the Eastern necromancers and jump our asses in a tag-team effort."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed, not fighting in the least as Carson shouldered her aside and grabbed me possessively, finally going for the kiss. What was this, a freaking competition? Well, if so I can certainly tell you who the winner was.

"Whooo-hoo baby," I gasped, mainly for Smitty's benefit, when we came up for air some twenty seconds later. A quickie; we were definitely out of practice. "Rock me like a hurricane!"

She snorted, wordlessly letting me know she thought I was an idiot. Then she said, very formally indeed, "Warchief. Do I have your permission to make an announcement of the Firelord's return? Your people have been most concerned for him. For both of you."

He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke to Smitty but his eyes were still locked on mine; shit, I was beginning to wonder if he'd ever take those eyes off me again. Or if they'd ever lose that look of sheer hunger that was beginning to build in their storming depths. "Yes. All right, tell them. But they can hold their personal congratulations till tomorrow. If anyone from Do'nar on down disturbs us this night, I will hurt them." His hands came around to cup my face, thumbs stroking my jawline lightly. An erogenous zone I hadn't even known about, but a wave of pure sensation shook me like a rattle and - oh, horrors! Had I just moaned out loud, in front of Smitty and all?

She didn't laugh. Bless her. I added quickly, "And, uh, no parties. I mean, I know these guys, if they want to throw a barbecue because I'm back safe and sound it's fine with me." Carson's grip tightened on me to the sheer edge of manslaughter. I managed to finish in a gasp, "But for Christ's sake, Smitty, you make it damn clear that anything they choose to do tonight, the guest of honor is NOT attending!" Ah. Good. Minute relaxation of said grip.

Well, this time she laughed. I watched, from around the parts of Carson that weren't obstructing my view, as she pulled the small silver gong from her belt. It was about the size of a half dollar and if you considered it as a sounding device you'd think it would go "clink" if anything. Actually it had a low but piercing tone that could call all the members of the Rider clan from anywhere in their village. And really, with over five hundred souls even if part of that was a standing army, the place was more like a small town than a "village".

"Uh, great," she said, possibly already regretting asking him. And then she was out of the tent and I could hear that fancy little gong going at it. Hear ye, hear ye. The hero has returned.

He settled himself more comfortably in his big throne chair, body relaxed, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, the firm muscles of those legs visible as all hell through the thin leggings. No, I wouldn't let myself get distracted here. His posture seemed seductive to me, but then every move he made seemed seductive to me. His eyes were dead serious.

"Request? Uh. Carson, I'm not following." I'm afraid my mind was in the gutter now, assuming that Smitty wanted her turn at sealing his name; i.e. screwing him. Though I wasn't sure why the hell she'd think I had the authority to give her that approval. I didn't even know if Jalin, well, went both ways, come to think. Although he'd seemed ready enough to do his duty at the time.

As if he'd been reading my mind, Carson smiled a bit. "I may be warchief, Firehawk. But your position here is just as high, though you choose to disbelieve it. You were the first to offer Jalin a place with us; you are his mentor, if you will. And you are his trainer in magic; of course she must ask your permission." His small smile grew bigger. "Though that galls the woman no end."

"Well, that at least I can believe! But what the hell is she thinking? He's training in wizard magic with me, not that I've had a chance to teach him much yet, but that's gonna change. And she wants him to train as shaman too? What a damn slavedriver!"

He leaned forward intently. "I believe not. The boy absorbs knowledge, he thrives upon it. To learn more would fulfill him, not tire him. Think, Hawk. All this is the first chance he has known to use the talent he loves, the gathering of knowledge. To learn and to be honored for it. The only time, this has been deemed worthy of anything save mockery. And if she steps down, he will have a calling of his own as well. This is important to him. Do you think he wishes to be known as a tribal whore, only and forever? It does not concern him overmuch now, to be kept by us. Someday soon, it may."

I stared at him for a long moment, his grave expression, how focused those blue eyes were upon me. Neither hot nor cold, now. Steady and thoughtful, rather. What was going on here?

Slowly, I pulled myself into a cross-legged position on his bed. The furs were badly rumpled from things I could only imagine - well, maybe later I would imagine them. "What is going on here, Carse? You said a *warning* about Jalin, not some piffle about him taking on extra studies. And that you okayed it. What are you knowing that I don't? Not that I disagree with this character insight."

"Know?" He arose slowly, walked to the bed, and sat beside me. It hurt that he hesitated to put his arm around me; I leaned into him, and with that permission he embraced me. "Beloved, I know little. Perhaps I assume much. But he and I have talked, during these days without you."

"Always," I agreed, just as if he'd complimented me. "Aside from the fact that unnecessary conversation seems a bit out of character for either one of you." I tossed my head, ruffled my feathers a bit. Made him laugh, just a little. "Please allow me to remind you who the loudmouth is around here!"

He sighed, hugged me tighter, and smiled at me fondly. "As if I needed a reminder! We comforted each other, yes. As you so delicately imply. And perhaps I phrased it badly." He turned his head to look straight into my eyes, unsmiling now, and I got a clue; this was important.

"He talked, I listened. Or rather," he added, the flash of his eyes halting my protest. Jalin seemed unlikely to be babbling away to the Warchief he was half in awe of, and he knew I knew it. "He asked questions. Most diffidently at first, then eagerly. And I answered, to the best of my ability. But also, I traced the path of those questions to the motives behind them. And those motives disturbed me."

His arms closed on me again, in a gentle squeeze that nonetheless gave a clue to the matchless strength beneath. "I cannot tell you that. Keith. I think perhaps Jalin loves you strongly, as much as he can within the limits of his suspicion of the world. You have accepted him without reservations, loving him for what you see in him, but also for what has been denied him. Me, he respects for my position of power, is perhaps in awe of what I hold. To me, he is grateful. But he does not wish you disappointed in him in any way. And so he asked me not to tell you what things he asked of me, and I will not. Save that they dealt with the ways of power. But my conclusions from his questions, he did not request a silence on. And so I will tell you that. And if you are hurt, I am sorry."

"He has a dragon's name for a reason, my Hawk. Not only the dragon power he will someday master, but the dragon pride he has already. And that pride has been trampled into the dirt and beyond, here. He is grateful now, to us - to you - for giving him a place. But if he does not find his own strength, gain his own place, that love will turn to hate, for making him powerless again. Dependent upon our charity for his standing here - it is another kind of powerlessness. Do you see, my love?"

I just absolutely goggled at him as if he'd struck my head unexpectedly with a brick. Then I saw the small twitch at the corner of his mouth and fell into his arms, roaring with laughter.

"Bastard," I mumbled when I finally recovered, pulling back from him just to relish the look on his face before the quick, delighted grin caused by fooling with me had faded. "Now who's crude, I'd like to know."

I studied his smug look and pulled away from him haughtily. "Well, damn. I guess you're right. I come in here expecting a guy dying of the hornies for me and you're talking trade and politics with Smitty. I guess the hug was okay, but I barely get a kiss and you're off Freuding on Jalin. I brought you a gift and you never even looked at it; some romantic you are. Obviously the Warchief is in intellectual mode here; guess I might as well mosey on off till his sex drive gears up again."

I tried to sound as huffy as possible, wanting revenge for him gaming me. But my poker face just wasn't up to his standard. In fact, I started laughing halfway through my indignant speech and couldn't seem to stop, but I still tried to play it on through and pretend I was taking off.

He let me get halfway up before grabbing the waistband of my jeans and yanking me back down. One smooth, irresistible move had us both horizontal; me on top of him, true, but those long muscular legs I'd been admiring so much wound around mine instantly. I might as well have been in a vise grip. I was certainly in a good position to realize his sex drive was in fine working order. It was bloody delightful.

The upper part of my body was free, so I propped myself up by planting elbows in his chest and leaning over him, staring down into the lightly tattooed, dangerous, cruel-looking face I loved beyond all description or dream of pleasure. "So, Warchief. You do these little psychoanalysis things often? I must say you blow me away with your insights." Truth to tell, I was amazed and pleased that he'd even bothered. And so damn proud of him.

He lifted an eyebrow. Let his arms slide around me, to begin stroking my back just above my butt. "You have never thought of Jalin's feelings in this matter? I find this difficult to believe." Ooh, the way his hands were - Lord. He was just stroking my back, dammit. That's all. Yet every movement of his fingers sent small shivers of lightening through me.

"I - uh. Well, I knew he wasn't happy thinking that he'd have to be kept by someone, but I guess -oooh! I thought it was because he'd have to go with some barbarian big-shot. Uh, no offense."

He smiled slightly, and his fingers went higher, beginning to gently massage my lower ribs. I nearly passed out. What the hell? The rib cage was Carson's weak point, not mine. "None taken. You were saying?"

"Well, I - what the hell. I guess I just thought he'd be happy to be with us instead. I mean, two sexy dudes like us, right? I guess, er, since I'm technically a kept guy myself and don't mind it in the least, I didn't really go in to thinking about the deeper issues Jalin might have about it." Damn, what was he doing to me here, and why was it almost killing me? He hadn't noticed the small tremors going through my body yet; they were so subtle that I wouldn't have noticed them myself except for the accompanying waves of rising sexual fire. "But uh - I think you got him sussed. You can tell Smitty to go ahead and teach him. And I'll work on it from the wizard angle. Damn! Why couldn't I have kids like Jalin when I was teaching high school, instead of all those dopers and retards?"

He looked amused. "You consider yourself kept, then?" As usual when I made a speech, he went straight to the point that interested him the most. It was sometimes disconcerting, if I'd moved on to another idea in the meantime.

"Well, sure. What else would you call it? Hey, remember in Berkeley when I quit my job because I knew I couldn't teach anymore, looking like this? And I was so worried about taking care of you; forgot you was a rich kid."

"I remember." His voice was soft. Thank God, my ploy had worked; he was listening to me more than stroking me, now. Although still, there wasn't a part of his body against me, from half-erect cock to his hands to the very pressure of his imprisoning legs, that didn't threaten to have me shuddering in orgasm if he so much as shifted his weight. What the hell? I'd always been hot for him, but this was beyond hot edging into molten. "And I remember what you said, when I offered to support you."

"And didn't that take you long enough, and all hesitant about offending me?" I grinned a bit, and quoted myself cheerfully. "'Christ, Carson, I always wanted to be a male whore, but I thought the offer would be coming from a blonde with big boobs!' Good Lord, you just about died. You were so damn serious, back then."

He chuckled lightly. "I did not know, then, that you are impossible to offend, having no shame to speak of. And there are several tribal women of the sort you mention who would be glad to add you to their harems, if you wish to trade up."

"Hey, don't make me smack you here! Not getting rid of me easy as that. See what I mean?" My voice softened, and I forgot myself, reached down to stroke his face. That contact turned the very tips of my fingers to tingling flame. Jesus, Keith, focus on something else! "Now you can tease me back. Makes it all worthwhile, even if I do miss the satellite teevee you bought me."

"That's just it. Who asked to live an adventure? Not me. Adventure's just another word for trouble. I'd rather sit on my ass on the couch, eat popcorn and watch somebody else's so-called adventures. Fart and belch and bang you during the commercials. Turn the whole thing off when I feel like it and go to bed. That's the life for me."

He shuddered delicately and oh, God, did I feel that movement through every inch of me. "Considering the charming picture you paint, I doubt if there would be much, ah, banging."

"Well" I thought of coffee, rock music, and television. Then I thought of bills, and parking tickets, and the cold hateful glances we received from some people even in Berkeley, when we forgot ourselves and embraced in public.

He blinked at me, astonished, not believing I'd really said it. Shit, even I hardly believed I'd said it out loud. But he'd started moving his hands down my back again, and fire seemed to follow the trail of his fingers. It rattled me. Somehow, I realized that if those hands made it to my butt I was gonna really be in trouble.

The elven senses. Oh, shit! That's what was doing it. God help me; every part of my body was an erogenous zone for his touch now. He could probably floss my teeth and it would turn me on.

"I, uh, well." He looked like he was thinking of kissing me, his hand was touching the back of my head to pull me down. "Still miss coffee, and television, though. Uh, always will I'm afraid. I can make my own music I guess. I know that I'm a shallow bastard, of course. Whining for television, and not thinking of Jalin's feelings like I ought. Okay, I admit it. So what's your point beyond that?" I tried to grin at him again, ready to continue babbling, trying to hide what was happening to me until I could figure out how to damp it down a notch.

But he touched my lips lightly with one finger, silencing me. And, yes, inflaming me. I bit back a moan. A finger on my lip, sending a ribbon of heat all through my body straight to my groin. Oh, lordy. I couldn't concentrate on banking the flame when it was consuming me! "That was not what I meant, my lover. The ocean to the far north is nothing to the depths of your spirit. But never have I seen water so clear. You hide nothing, hold nothing back, storm or sunlight. I can see to the very depths of you sometimes, sunken cities, lost treasure. Everything I have ever dreamed of. And in those sometimes, I want only to drown in that water." And instead of pulling me down he came up to me, his mouth was on mine then, soft and wet and hungry, and I was glad and terrified both.

And also, I didn't have to hold back the moans anymore. I had an excuse now. A kiss was sexual. Especially the way Carson kissed. Long wet tongue-sucking kiss kiss kiss ----

And now, oh boy. Carson wasn't sure what was happening, but he was surprised and delighted at my responsiveness. And I knew that because I could feel him too, I mean feel what he felt as he plundered my mouth. I could taste myself on his lips, feel the pounding slow rise of desire in him even as I felt my own, mine maybe not as powerful as his would become but much hotter and quicker and oh my God Carson you shouldn't have touched the roof of my mouth with your tongue like that ---

Was I coming? I thought so. I knew I was grinding myself against him hard, wild with pleasure, shuddering with the force of what was going through me. I knew he was holding me tightly, shocked and thrilled and now totally aroused at me suddenly going berserk on top of him from nothing more than a kiss and some pawing. And I was almost done, gasping, disbelieving that this could be happening, when what did the damn fool do in his own rising excitement but slide his hands down my back and grab hold of my ass.

I convulsed again. Neither one of us believed it. Especially not Carson, as without even meaning to I caught him and fed him what I was experiencing, the wildfire rush of sensation now shaking his body as well as mine. It was earthquake and storm and magic beyond belief. I felt a sort of mad laugh choke me as he snatched his hands away from my ass as if scorched. Yeah, I bet I'd fed him what that grip of his felt like, too.

He made another of those quick, smooth moves, and I was on my back beneath him, panting and shaking. He crouched above me on hands and knees, staring intently into my face. I'll bet I looked as crazy as I felt, too.

"Beloved?" he whispered tensely. "What are you doing?" His eyes were wide, but neither frightened nor shocked. Interested, I would say, although that's not a strong enough word. "Is this - sexual magic?"

I almost laughed. Sexual magic. Well, not as Smitty would think of it. Smitty would run like blazes from whatever this was. "I don't know what it is. Exactly. Well, it's got to do with the ears, but I'm not doing it. Not really." I swallowed, biting back a moan; he had just taken a long, deep breath that strained the silky shirt across that powerful chest. I could feel my own chest swelling in response. "It's, it's doing me."

And like a wind from another world, there was a cool, amused voice in my mind. //You waited too long, to stop it now. You are jerfal nai. Of the fire. And once that portal is opened, the only way to close it is to go through.//

Images, then. And pretty explicit ones. Elves doing elves in a flaming rush of magic like suns going nova. Not only bodies. Mindfucking, to put it bluntly. Sharing the fire, the polite-ass elves would say.

There was something wild and exotic beneath him; familiar and most beloved, eternally precious. But now alien also, exciting beyond belief, hair an endless scattering of flame, eyes burning green lamps, glowing in the night like a beast's, like a demon's.

"Yes." His voice was hushed. Exultant. I could feel his desire, strong and deep and yet restrained. He would hold it back with a master's hand, until he was sure I was ready.

Silent. He was so silent, so still. Except the strong, powerful beat of his heart had just gotten quicker. I wouldn't trip into his mind. I didn't need to. I knew him, down to the ground and beyond.

"I mean, " I said, a little breathlessly. "I mean, I don't care. If you want me to dance naked on a tent waving a rubber chicken, I'll do it. And I won't laugh at you for wanting it. You understand?"

Some fool just listening in would've taken one look at Carson, one listen at me saying "Anything!" and thought, "Oh boy, the redhead is asking to be fucked until he bleeds." And that person would have been so wrong. Carson is big, yeah. Splendidly so, beautiful as hell to my eyes, but I'm the first to admit he can look, well, kinda mean. Scary. A guy who could hurt you and enjoy doing it.

But hey. One of the things I've always loved about Carse is that he's never let what he looks like rule who he is, or what he does. Not when he was a scrawny, brainy kid. And not after becoming a warrior king in this world, either.

Then, he'd startled all the jocks by being angry rather than afraid of them. And finally kicking their asses, with my help admittedly. The little dweeb with - what? Ninja skills? No way!

And as a lover, well, Carson was a sensualist. Almost a poet in bed, creative, responsive - and yeah, romantic. I was the let's-get-it-on guy. I knew I rushed him, lots of times. Yeah, the elf-eared pretty boy was the one who always wanted the animal sex. Not the bad-ass warchief. Sensei, he called me. Yet he had taught me things about my body I still could hardly believe. And this in Berkeley, with me supposedly the experienced one and him the young seductive almost-virgin.

Oh, he could do what I liked. He could do it hard and fast, bestial lust. No problem. Certainly with me. Especially with me. Because I turned him on anyway, and then I well knew what buttons to push to, well, make him want that. I kid you not, I could make the boy crazy.

What I wanted now was to share the fire, and for him to love it. Anything was good, in the fire. Even though it bid fair to get a little confusing here, this sharing of feelings.

A fleeting regret, that I hadn't asked him to strip me and then throw that hair all around me. Bet it would have covered me like black silk, felt wonderful. With the damn honey - and I knew already he wasn't gonna be talked out of it - it would just stick to me like flypaper.

He smiled at me calmly. He had already found a strip of leather on the table near the bed, and was twisting his hair quickly into a long thick braid. "Later," he said softly. "After I dispose of the honey."

He would. But first, he went for, well. Tasting me, without anything extra. Mouth on my throat, soft and searching, as curious as if he had never touched me before at all. Despite his slow tenderness, I could feel his heart hammering as if it would explode from excitement. Could feel it inside me. Could taste myself, light cloves from the baths, a faint cinnamon tang I guess was elven sweat or something. My God, I tasted like a piece of cinnamon sugar toast.

Soft bites, through my tee shirt. So many of them, so mind-numbingly delightful that I barely noticed as he gently peeled the shirt from me, even though I automatically raised arms to make it easier. Felt my sneakers taken. Oh lord, did the damn fool just nuzzle my foot? He was braver than brave.

His eyes glittered like magical jewels in the near darkness; in getting up to cruise for honey, he'd snuffed everything but one large scented candle. I could imagine myself in him already, buried in living silk and heat, taking him with the same maddening care he was offering me.

He made some sound; a moan or a murmur, I'm not sure. My jeans were gone and some liquid was slowly drizzling over my chest, stomach, and lower. Thinner, less sticky than I'd thought it would be, and much warmer. Almost fire merged with water. Two opposites joined improbably into a silken magical potion with which he covered me. Clothed me in it, with slow sweeps of whatever bottle he held, like a priest anointing an offering in some pagan ceremony.

An offering? Was that what I was? The thought was drowsy and warm, and then he was on top of me, tasting me yet again, and there could be no thinking. Only feeling. Only fire.

He wasn't quick and hot enough to be called a flame. Me, I was shivering in ecstasy already as his mouth and tongue swept me in long, easy glides. His movements, his touch, everything of him was sensual grace, almost appearing casual on the surface, so effortlessly did he call forth the firestorm in me.

But I was far beneath his surface now, and he wasn't a flame. Something more frightening and potent, a force of nature I couldn't put a name to. Darker and heavier than any fire. And the very opposite of casual. I could feel it building, swelling behind the concealing barrier of that iron self-control as he gently, implacably feasted on me.

Delicious. All that smooth sweet liquid was delicious. Forgot I'd taste it through his senses, and he had a kid's sweet tooth for this stuff. But what was beneath it, oh, even better, smooth hot silken flesh, arched and gasping, whimpering his name mindlessly over and over Carson Carson love you, Carson.

I gave him everything I hadn't been able to say, built up in me for years. Still wordless. But I gave it, as if I were coming into him with it, and he understood, and took it. Sucked it down rapturously, as if this too were some sweet liquid, but one so intoxicating he could no more resist it than a vampire could turn away from blood.

And sweet Jesus was I coming again just from his mouth on, well, where? I think he had just licked my ankle, of all the damn things, and I was going off like a freaking bottle rocket. Or maybe it was from the emotions I'd poured into him, forgetting they would cycle back to me. And wasn't he just sitting back to watch me, gasping a little as I fed him my sensations once again to prevent myself from drowning in them. Watching me come, the pervert, feeling me come and getting off on it. By which I mean, that contained and powerful something building inside him was going to break soon; I could feel his inner trembling now as he leaned forward again to lick me clean of something that was definitely not honey.

What happens in nature, when the elements of fire and air collide, then join with earth and water? Are worlds created or destroyed? Yes, it was beginning to feel that huge, that important.

//I did not realize the power that would rise, between the two of you. Hold it to yourselves tightly. It will not destroy you, but other things may be torn, if you let it free now. Focus it only within your circle, your space//

And as though to reinforce my thought that it maybe was time to get scared, Carson's inner trembling suddenly broke through to his body, and he groaned aloud as he fell back, whispering to me avidly.

Canting those long legs wide. On his back, opening to me - oh so damn sweet and open I remembered yes I did - arcing up and shuddering as if caught in a merciless storm. "Keith, please."

Oh my God how good he'd been, sweet and hot and good. Loving me. Sweet hot child, sobbing against me, begging me for more. No, I hadn't hurt him. Been as gentle as possible.

Well, now he was here, definitely not anybody's kid. Huge and glorious, but begging me again in the same way, the same desperate need roaring through him. And to deny that need, now as then, would be only cruelty. Even if I wanted to say no, and I beg you to believe I didn't. Because now he was mine, past all argument or question. Mine, even before I touched him.

And wow. Even without that powerful, surging something I could feel struggling to escape from him, I would of known he was turned on beyond all bearing. Because, shit. Couldn't believe it.

Nor could I fight back a soft laugh, but made sure he knew I wasn't laughing *at* him. He stared at me in honest confusion as I sat back on my haunches, just unable to stop smiling at the sight of him, lying there all spread out ready to be laid and totally forgotten he was still fully dressed. "It'll be easier to fuck if we get some clothes off you, hmmmm?" I purred as seductively as possible. "Boy, Carson, is the Warchief hot for the Wizard or what?" I didn't even try to hide my total delight at such absent-minded enthusiasm.

He stared at me for a moment, then started swearing so crudely and comprehensively that I really couldn't hold back the laughing, this time. "Easy," I soothed him, sliding down to tug off his boots even as he grabbed frantically at his shirt and ripped it to rags in an instant. "No, Carse, let me." I swarmed back up his body to grab the top of those so-tight leggings. Stopped for a moment, to admire what the stretched fabric was barely restraining. Oh, yeah. Could barely believe how many damn inches of "oh yeah" I had here. Lucky bastard that I was. Unquestionably.

I forget how many times I'd shared the fire with him. But something in that sharing had tempered that power to my mastery like a well-forged blade. I was uncertain if I could handle the primal force gathering in my lover. That, I figured I could only ride out like some wide-eyed kid on his first roller coaster.

He gasped but didn't flinch as that cool fire burned his clothes to ash and left his body both unfettered and unmarked. But those eyes cleared a bit from the haze of lust, and he even smiled ironically at me kneeling there between his legs grinning at him. Stripping him down with magic had you betcha - only improved what must have been my tenth hard-on of the night, so there wasn't one part of me that didn't look smug, I guess.

All humor fled his face; he suddenly looked near to drowning. "Keith." His voice was a soft, quivering moan. I could feel the storm raging in him, beating against the crumbling barriers of his self-control with ever-increasing force.

Thank God the lubricant was near the bed, or he just would've had to go without. Not that much was needed; he was beyond ready. And if I'd spent too long preparing him I would've probably come right then and there, since I could feel every damn touch I gave him, every gentlest probe and stretch echoing in my own body like chimes being struck. And I stayed away from the spot that probably would've driven us both nuts at this point, even though I knew right where to find it. Hell, slicking the stuff on my cock nearly had me going off although I did it quickly, because the minute I touched myself Carson was arching off the bed with a groan that was half a growl.

Oh God I was in him and this was not just fire. This was becoming a lost ocean, then drowning in it. This was - Oh, geez, I was laughing through terror and wild unbelievable joy even in thinking it. Yeah, the earth was so moving. This was the end of the world.

This was flying to the stars and beyond. On the deck of a starship with my head hooked into Andromeda. Hijacked. This was becoming a damn constellation. People were gonna look at me through their telescopes, in years to come. Say, "There's the Wizard, yeah, he went nova and blew up. Hell of a thing."

I didn't care. I couldn't care. We were together. We were a blade of magic, hot lightening in the midnight sky reflected in storming water. I couldn't see him anymore but feel him oh feel him, feel him

//the melting acid fever streaming through my mind makes it all so difficult to see you and all so easy to melt with you feel with you make love for you at you around you I love you//

I couldn't hold it. I could master the fire but the storm was a wild beast, and Carson had lost all that famous self-control. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling me into him deeper. His mind a chaotic howl of triumph and delight, spiraling into descent, more than willing to crash and burn and take me with him. I scrabbled wildly for a moment to gain control, but it was too good, too awesome, I felt myself relaxing into the explosion I knew would destroy everything.

It wasn't Carson. It was Jalin's voice, inside the tent, falling to his knees as he pulled out the hard solid proof of his arousal and with a short, betrayed sob jerked himself off, coming hard in a few desperate strokes.

Catching that wild magic that had roared through us both. That now roared through him. And pouring it off in an arching fountain that seemed to shatter my mind and body into shards of light, but even so, brought me safely back to the world again with the concern I felt for him.