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Date Posted: 01:05:12 02/26/02 Tue
Author: Tristan
Subject: Putting my foot down
In reply to: Marz 's message, "Finding a stream" on 10:17:37 02/25/02 Mon

Tristan tried to stifle his laughter as he watched a shivering Marz hurriedly bathing in the frigid waters of the underground stream. He sat down near one of the lanterns, leaning against the stone and drawing his knees up to his chest. For once, it was apparent that Marz wasn’t enjoying his bath at all, and Tristan had to keep one fist over his mouth to hide his grin, though the sparkle in his slightly narrowed eyes probably gave him away just as well.

He got a different sort of pleasure, though, seeing him step gratefully out of the water and begin drying his well-toned, glistening body off with the old shirt he’d found. That ended quickly enough, however, and soon Marz was clothed in his usual attire, pulling a pair of black breeches over his slim hips and tugging on a dark, blue silk shirt. Tristan rested his chin on one knee, still watching him, and thinking how strange it was that someone could look so handsome and yet so intimidating at the same time.

Ridiculous, he chastised himself, All this shit going on right now, and here you are getting turned on watching him get dressed. What the hell’s happened to you?

He didn’t have an answer to the question, so he pushed away to be wondered over later. This wasn’t particularly easy to do, since naturally Marz moved to take a seat beside him underneath the lantern hanging from the iron staff set close by into the ground. The thing that finally shook him from his guilty thoughts, however, ended up being Marz himself.

“What if Eremis told Tegol about my love for you?”

Tristan turned his head quickly to look at him, but he was staring off in the distance, the frown on his face showing how upset he was. He went on to repeat the exact scenario Tristan had been envisioning only a little while ago; that is, how he could be used as a bargaining tool by Tegol to get Marz to do whatever he wanted. Normally, he would have thought it unusual that their thoughts so paralleled each other, but after what had happened in the tower bedroom earlier, he actually accepted it as something that was normal between them.

When Marz put his arm around him, he shook his head slowly, stubbornly denying the possibility of his ever being captured. Marz was being absolutely silly and…and overly sentimental, and just plain crazy to think that such a thing could occur. What was even more stupid than the idea of his staying away to prevent being captured was the mere thought of his actually agreeing to do such a thing. To stay behind, guarding his own hide while he let Marz walk right into a trap. It was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard!

When Marz turned to face him, all Tristan wanted to do was to kiss him and bury himself in his arms, but he refused to succumb to his sudden fear over what might happen to one or the other or even both of them. Instead, he shook his head adamantly, putting both his hands over Marz’s, and fixing him with a determined look.

“No,” he said steadily. He continued shaking his head, feeling something building up inside him. “No!” he repeated, and he stood up, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, over and over. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever! You aren’t going anywhere without me, you understand? I don’t care if it makes you “feel better;” I’m not going to stay behind!”

“Anyway,” he continued, starting to pace in an aggitated manner once again. “Who’s going to try and capture me?” He touched his chest with one hand, as though more affronted than appalled by the idea. “I’m a dragon, Marz. I can fry their puny, mortal asses right where they stand, and there’d be nothing they could do about it! Even in this form I doubt anyone could handle me, as long as I have my sword in my hand. No one handles a blade as well as I do, except maybe for the man who taught me, and I doubt he’s going to be waiting back at Kazabet’s castle when the three of you return to face whoever’s come to intercept you.”

Naturally, he was very arrogant when it came to his swordfighting abilities, but he was fortunate in that he really was good enough to get away with saying stuff like that. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as unbeatable, even for someone who believed his technique bordering on perfect—and most especially for someone who harbored such fragile emotions and had a temper hotter than a Salamander’s glare to boot.

“So no.” He finally stopped and looked down at Marz, crossing his arms over his chest. “No way am I staying behind. I love you too much to act so selfishly, and it’s as simple as that. No what ifs, no buts, no arguing of any kind. I’m going with you.”

He held his hand out to help Marz to his feet, a smile destroying his serious expression when he felt how cold his touch still was. The occasional shiver still wracked the ex-gang leader’s body, which wasn’t surprising, considering how it was still nighttime, and they were underground, and his hair was still very damp.

“Next time we’ll have to find a basin and heat the water over a fire,” he promised, rubbing his hands over Marz’s arms to help bring his body temperature back to normal. Suddenly feeling a bit playful, he moved closer to him, dropping his hands to lace their fingers together. “I bet I could think of at least one way to warm you up, though.”

He kissed his ear as he whispered into it before moving to kiss him more passionately on the lips. Like this will make everything all better, he thought, but he did his best to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head. “Now tell me you understand and believe what I’m telling you,” he said, breaking away from the kiss and staring at Marz evenly. “Wherever you go, I go, and nothing you say or do is going to make me change my mind.”

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