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Date Posted: 02:02:38 04/20/02 Sat
Author: Tristan and Rowan
Subject: Oops
In reply to: Marz and co 's message, "Game playing" on 09:44:18 04/19/02 Fri

Tristan rolled his eyes while he listened to Marz and Ablina playfully conversing, a tiny smile curving onto his face. It wasn’t so much that he was amused by the little girl’s silly statements about mommies and daddies and getting married, but that something within him stirred to see how Marz reacted to her. Tristan didn’t like kids; he didn’t think he ever would. But there was just something rather…strange…about watching Marz smile and kiss her and treat her as if he’d known and loved her all his life. It made Tristan feel odd, though he wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or a bad one yet.

He frowned when she asked about the “gagement ring,” his hand automatically drifting up to finger the small earring in his ear. Marz had bought the pair some time ago, and had given one to Tristan while putting the other in his own ear, where it still hung now. I guess that’s our version of a wedding ring, he thought, his frown turning into a wry smile. Almost immediately, he realized how stupid that was, though. Weddings were a completely mortal concept, and existed solely as a means of legalizing procreation between two people. Not only was Tristan not mortal, but he sure as hell could not bear a child, and neither could Marz. So what use would some silly ceremony be to them, anyway?

He thought…well, he did think that it might still be kind of nice, though. But maybe it was one of those little thoughts you keep to yourself, buried beneath all your other hopes and dreams and halfhearted promises.

He cleared his head, shaking off his wayward thoughts and focusing on Marz again, who tossed him a rather annoyed look before proclaiming that he didn’t take shit from anybody. “I don’t always lose,” he added hotly, “and I KNOW how to raking count!” Yes, you do, Tristan retorted mentally, And no, you don’t. But he kept his mouth shut, since he really didn’t feel like starting an argument in front of other people.

Tristan’s happy mood had now slipped momentarily, so that he was starting to get irritated every time Ablina opened her mouth. Especially when she shouted out that Marz was perfect and continued to carry on her childish illusion of getting married. The silly, repeated reference to love and marriage made him wonder rather grumpily if Marz considered himself in any way bonded to Tristan in a similar fashion. They would never have a ceremony, no ritual, no rings, no guests, no public promises of any kind. Would Marz even agree to do something like that if he asked him to? No, he retorted mentally, He’d tell me I was being silly and try to shut me up with a kiss. He sighed. And it’d work, too, because Tristan was an absolute fool for his lover’s kisses!

When Benis arrived with the wine, he took his glass gratefully, happy to be drinking something besides nasty java for once. He snorted softly when Marz commented loudly on the stuff’s potency before taking a sip of his own—and then of course his head exploded.

It literally burned his insides as it slipped down his throat and off the tip of his tongue. His eyes flew open wide and he coughed, twice, a little puff of smoke emerging from his mouth to drift lazily into the air above for a few seconds. He glanced at Benis, who returned his look sadly as if he were pitying a child getting its first taste of watered-down alcohol.

“Anybody wanna raise my bet?”

Tristan glanced up at Marz quickly before staring back down at the cards in his hand. It was a little bit too quickly, and the numbers starting fuzzing in and out of focus, and then splitting in half, a couple times apiece. He blinked and shook his head irritably, absently taking another sip of wine as he watched the rest of the game play itself out. The stuff tasted better, he realized, the more he drank, although it did make it harder to concentrate on what was going on. He couldn’t be getting drunk, though, especially not this fast. And not on wine! A hardy young dragon like himself would need a couple glasses of perhaps some purely brewed absinthe to even get moderately tipsy.

Well, whatever. He did his best to focus on the card game, anyway, since he wanted to see the look on Marz’s face when he lost. Although he couldn’t make out what they both laid out, Rowan’s responding rather triumphant laugh pretty much clued him in. He shot Marz a wordless look, a grin actually coming to his face when Marz warned him not to start. “Yessir, Captain,” he said under his breath, a little laugh bubbling its way up from his throat.

Ablina quickly grew bored with their game, however, and once again asserted herself by telling them that they would play another. “Lil’ bully-bitch,” Tristan slurred, slouching in his seat as he poured himself another glass of wine. Marz immediately jumped out of his seat to go hide, though he was soon followed by Rowan and Noyko, who appeared to be having some trouble walking. Tristan’s snicker turned into a giggling fit as he watched the other youth try to right himself by holding onto Rowan before managing to stumble his way out of the kitchen.

“Silly, silly people,” he murmured, sticking his finger in his glass and sucking on it while rolling his eyes. At that point, Justin arrived, just when Rowan was leaving. At least Tristan thought it was Justin, since the large bulky thing that sat down across from him smelled like three tons of pure pig shit. “What good shit these playing idiots?” the merc asked, an obvious tone of contempt in his voice. “The little guys understand to play the girl, but too old punks are nonsense for this?”

What the rake? Tristan thought, squinting his eyes desperately so he could stare at the crazy man. He laughed again, liking the way that curse sounded. “What the rake, what the rake, rake, rake,” he muttered, trying to rest his chin on his propped up arm, but his elbow kept slipping off the table. Well, shit. It wasn’t doing him any good to sit at a table that couldn’t seem to keep the rake still. Raking piece of no good shit. He’d better just get the rake outta here and try to hide before the raking little brat opened her raking eyes.

On second thought, he decided rake was a pretty stupid word. But he also decided to leave the kitchen, too. It had just suddenly hit him what a ridiculously stupidly stupid word it was, and now he had to find Marz and tell him to stop using it. Tristan was not going to be bonded to anyone who made use of such a stupid, stupid word.

“Where’s Marssh?” he grumbled, slurring his words horribly. He got out of his seat and stumbled out of the room, completely oblivious to what both the Jann and the mercenary were doing. “Marssh!” he cried again, leaning against the wall as he walked, since he couldn’t seem to stay balanced on his own. “Masha! Where’s my Masha?”

Ohhh, that made him giggle. He clutched at his stomach as he fell into the next room, dropping to his knees while he laughed uncontrollably for a few seconds. His blurry vision focused momentarily on a bed, lying about ten feet away from him, and there was something lumpy under the covers. He grinned impishly and crawled toward the bed, clambering up on top of it and reaching under the covers for the person there.

“Ta’ ja tu corrr, Masha,” he slurred, rolling the dragonic syllable effortlessly on his tongue as he pushed his face beneath the blankets. The body beside his was wonderfully warm, and he slid his hand up along the taut belly and smooth chest, his other hand dropping instinctively to tug at the pants below. He purred rather sensuously, deep in his throat, as he fastened his mouth against Noyko’s, fully believing that it was his lover beside him and not someone else. But his brain felt so fuzzy right now that all he could register at the moment was that Marz seemed a little smaller and smelled and tasted…different…

~*~*~*~*~

The second the Jann-brewed wine touched his tongue, Rowan set his glass down again. He swallowed with some difficulty, his stomach burning slightly as the stuff slid down. He laughed softly at Marz’s reaction, and stared quizzically at Tristan’s equally surprised, rather wide-eyed look. And then, beside him, was a smiling, happy Noyko, his dark eyes twinkling rather intoxicatingly. “Is very good,” the boy said, turning his dazzled face back down to his cup. Rowan shook his head and chuckled again, carefully pushing his own glass away with one finger.

Tristan was right about one thing, though: Marz wasn’t exactly the world’s best card player. Rowan wondered just what the hell he’d been hoping for with a lousy hand like that. There was a possibility that he could have been bluffing, but that self-assured, wildly determined look on his face sure had made it seem otherwise.

Rowan was all for starting another round and winning some big time coinage, especially since his competition sucked so badly. Marz was an idiot, Noyko didn’t know how to play, and Tristan looked utterly trashed by now. That made him wonder a bit, until he remembered Benis saying something about the wine being “magically” enhanced. Usually took a good, pure, herb-tinted liqueur to throw a dragon off his rocker, but he supposed magic would do the trick just as well.

Unfortunately, the little girl, Ablina, decided she’d have more fun playing hide and seek. Rowan couldn’t blame her, really—though he did envy her position on Marz’s lap just a tiny bit. The girl immediately closed her eyes and started counting, during which Marz leapt to his feet and flew out of the room. Noyko tried to follow suit, but seemed to have a bit of trouble with his pants leg.

“So sorry,” the handsome youth said, a goofy grin on his face. “Pants are too long.” Rowan couldn’t stop smiling as he watched him stumble out of the kitchen and head into a nearby room. He had muttered something earlier about wanting to serve both the “Ryuujin” and his “chosen mate” since he couldn’t bear to come between them, and now Rowan felt a sly grin edging its way onto his mouth. Well, that was just plain silly. If the kid didn’t have the guts to make his move, then somebody else would.

“I’ll give him his lovely Ryuujin,” he muttered, still grinning nastily as he ducked out of the room and entered the hallway, just in time to see Marz slip into a doorway farther down the hall. He followed him, the smile widening on his face as he caught sight of the slight bulge in the hanging tapestry in the dark bedroom. He supposed he would just think of it as a favor to his new pal, Noyko: once he had his way with Marz, word would leak back to Tristan at some point, and the pair would split for good. Then the handsome newcomer could make his move on his beloved new master, and everybody’d finally get what they’d been wanting.

“I found you, my bella sari,” he murmured, as he slid behind the tapestry and moved to stand before Marz, snaking his arms around his waist. The alcohol sweet scent of the boy’s breath puffed against Rowan’s cheek as he slipped one hand up his back and twined his fingers into his hair, pushing his head down a bit so their mouths could meet in a hot, melting kiss. Marz seemed even less resistant than usual, his body responding almost quicker than Rowan’s as their hips brushed against one another and their hands began—

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” came a light, childish voice, and then he heard Ablina bounding into the room, her tiny footsteps echoing dully on the wooden floor as she searched through the darkness.

“Shit,” Rowan breathed against Marz’s lips, his abrupt arousal going a bit cold. He moved his head slightly, brushing his mouth against the side of his companion’s head. “Shhh,” he said into his ear, hoping the youth was intoxicated enough to listen.

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