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Date Posted: 00:00:45 03/18/02 Mon
Author: Tristan
Subject: Brilliant idea, Watson!
In reply to: Marz 's message, "We should get something to eat" on 18:53:02 03/17/02 Sun

Tristan started slightly when Marz sat up abruptly, a wild look flickering in his eyes. He looked confused, even a little scared—or guilty, like a little boy who’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. When his lover’s hands quickly moved to cover himself, Tristan smiled and blushed at the same time, embarrassed by the excited feeling that shivered through his own body. He wondered whom it was Marz had been dreaming about, but didn’t flatter himself into thinking it was him. His new lover’s naivete and inexperience was probably the one thing Marz regretted about their relationship. He liked women more, anyway, so Tristan figured he’d probably been fanaticizing about one of them, probably Isobel. Even he felt a little odd if he caught himself staring at her too long.

His general depression automatically set in, the way it usually did when he thought about how much better Marz was than him, but he brushed it easily aside. Used to be when he needed help to escape reality, his shaking fingers scarcely able to hold the needle still long enough to bring about that falsified, almost passionate bliss. It wasn’t really that he didn’t need the drugs, anymore. He was still battling his overwhelming unhappiness with himself.

The thing that had changed was reality itself, because now his reality was Marz. He was redeemed in Marz’s eyes, because Marz had simply been blind to his sin from the very beginning. But that only proves how weak you really are, a tiny voice whispered into his head. That you needed him to finally be strong.

Shut up, he thought. It was stupid to listen to voices like that, anyway. He knew what he was, and didn’t need some half-assed excuse for a conscience to tell him, either. He shook himself visibly, almost like a cat shaking its fur, and concentrated on listening to Marz’s story about Urchin, and why he was lying in the cave, in his underwear, by himself, instead of with Tristan.

Tristan raised one eyebrow skeptically at him as he dressed. Urchin. Right. The question here, then, was this: why was Marz lying to him? It seemed reasonable enough that he’d stripped to soak in the hot springs, just like he’d said. Poor Tristan honestly believed that he’d had every intention to join him in bed afterward, but something had obviously diverted his attention. But why should he somehow end up in this cave all by himself?

Tristan scratched at his head, making his damp, unruly hair fall into even more disarray than usual. Marz finished getting dressed and turned to kiss him chastely on the cheek, making some remark about folding the clothes properly. Tristan turned red again, this time with shame, because he knew he was supposed to keep their things neat, only he’d forgotten once again. Then he started to get a little miffed, thinking that maybe it wasn’t fair for Marz to force him to conform to his anal retentive ways. That’s what love means, though he reminded himself, and he sighed, almost resignedly.

While still contemplating love and all its myriad complications, he was suddenly startled out of his thoughts when Marz gently cupped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Tristan’s heart started beating like crazy again, the way it always did when he stared at him too long, and then Marz pulled him into a kiss, a deep, fiery kiss that suddenly made his almost dormant arousal skyrocket without warning. His hands pushed themselves up under Marz’s shirt, brushing his fingertips against his chest. They slid back down to grip his waist, where they remained when the kiss finally ended, both of them breathing hard.

He nodded dumbly when Marz told him he loved him, and then asked him for some reason not to ever forget it. What was that all about? he wanted to ask, but he was still anxious about questioning Marz’s motives as a lover. Marz was so experienced, he had to always know what he was doing and why he was doing it, too.

But something still wasn’t sitting quite right.

It was too hard to put his finger on it, though. They were just stepping out of the cave when Tristan suddenly turned on Marz and kissed him back, hating himself for his awkward aggressiveness. He pulled back ever so slightly, their noses still touching, his own eyes blinking anxiously. “You know I love you, too, right?” he asked, feeling very sappy, overly dramatic, and inordinately stupid all at the same time. Marz’s response was to nod ever so slightly and wrap his arms automatically around him, moving to push their lips together again.

“Ouch!” Tristan yelped, jumping guilty out of the embrace, his back smarting from his lover’s innocent touch. He frowned irritably, annoyed by his injuries. At first he’d only reflected on how difficult wielding his sword would be, but now he realized that he might find other things a bit more difficult, too. Make that damned near impossible, he thought, rubbing at his aching shoulder. Of course, he could still kiss Marz all he wanted—but it was always so hard to stop at just kissing…

Pervert, he accused himself, as they resumed making their way toward the others gathered around camp. “Let’s sit by Corum and Tia,” he said, taking Marz’s hand without thinking about it and pulling him toward their two friends. After grabbing some food to munch on, they sat down next to the pair, who looked equally well rested.

“What did you guys do after the battle?” he asked with false innocence, since he remembered how he and Marz had given Corum advice on how to make the moves on Tia earlier—and here the two of them were, sitting together! Then, while waiting for one or the other to answer, he leaned almost unconsciously against Marz, and whispered curiously into his mind, “Who were you dreaming about?”

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