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Date Posted: 14:02:03 01/09/02 Wed
Author: Tristan
Subject: Finally losing it
In reply to: Marz and co. 's message, "Makeup artists" on 10:03:14 01/09/02 Wed

Tristan hissed when he felt Marz clamp down on his arm, but the action served to keep him seated. Naturally, he was unhappy with the way Isobel was attracting so much attention, so it was hard to keep his jealousy at bay. Marz refused to loosen his hold when the sheik started talking, but Tristan momentarily forgot about his anger enough to pay attention to what the giant man had to say.

The thought of the Jann accompanying them on the trip to find the branches made him a little uneasy. Sure, they seemed like allies now, but what if they turned coat halfway there and started acting like the ugly brutes they appeared to be? Tristan figured he could take out quite a few if he changed to form, but that all depended on how many decided to attempt the journey.

Once the sheik was finished, they were all about to begin this business with Yorik when a small argument between Isobel and Justin attracted their attention. Tristan made a face at the scantily clad woman as she flung the contents of her glass in the fat mercenary’s face. He didn’t like Justin any more than the others did, but he thought she was only getting what she deserved for prancing around in that sort of getup.

But Marz was suddenly whispering an apology in his ear, and Tristan’s anger began to instantly melt. He knew he was a fool for his friend turned lover, but couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about it. One careful word or touch from Marz always served to calm him, no matter what happened to be bothering him at the moment. He still frowned slightly as they headed for the nearby tent, but his jealous fit was almost completely forgotten.

Since he was still ignoring Jeremy, he took no notice when the little jerk decided to snuggle up close to Marz on the pillows. Instead, he watched with interest as the berry paste was smeared onto Yorik’s mouth, already setting him on the road to being an exotic skull beauty. For some reason, Marz dabbed a little of the stuff onto his own lips first, reminding Tristan of how he’d expertly applied that kohl to his eyes a few days ago back at Queen Kazabet’s palace.

Before he could dwell too long on the memory, Barry suddenly shot through the tent flap, spluttering out something about spies. Unfortunately, he managed to catch a glimpse of Yorik, and they weren’t half through with him yet. Hopefully, the floating skull would still fall for the trick of believing Yorik was someone else so they could bribe him into pestering Justin.

When Corum left the tent with Barry, Tristan returned his attention to Marz. He was not at all pleased to see him applying the red paste to Jeremy’s lips. Things were getting just a little too friendly between them for his comfort. Marz finished quickly, to his relief, and surprised him by turning and giving him an expectant look. Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but Marz swiftly shut him up by pulling him close and planting a kiss on his lips.

Immediately, he could taste the alcohol on his breath, blended in with the sweet essence of the berry paste. When Marz sat back with a goofy grin on his face, Tristan almost smiled, raising an eyebrow at him. Since when did Marz let himself get voluntarily tipsy like this? Well, no big deal, Tristan sure as hell wasn’t going to protest. Once again, he ignored the look Jeremy shot him, although the tantalizing odor of his cigarette wasn’t so easy to pass unnoticed.

He really couldn’t help it, however, when he saw Jeremy purposefully wipe the red stuff off his lips and ask Marz for a second go. Tristan growled under his breath, his resolve to leave the kid alone slowly beginning to crumble beneath his smoldering glare. He very nearly lost it when Jeremy leaned in as if for a kiss, even though he was pretty positive Marz would never oblige him. As expected, the ex-gang leader (not looking so rough around the edges anymore, thanks to the makeup), looked more irritated than turned on, and he handed the jar of paste to Tristan instead.

Tristan stared dumbly at the jar in his hand for a few seconds before finally looking up and meeting Jeremy’s gaze. The little idiot immediately started whining again about getting Marz to do it instead, but his hero wasn’t listening. A slow growl finally worked its way up from Tristan’s chest to the tip of his tongue, and he realized he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Before Jeremy even realized what had happened, Tristan lunged forward and pushed him down against the pillows. He dug the fingers of one hand into the jar of berry past and held the struggling kid down with the other. In large, bold red letters, he painted “Rake me!” on Jeremy’s forehead, before tossing the paste away with a curse.

“Maybe you need to start advertising, since nobody in here’s going to be giving it away freely!” he snapped. With that, he hauled Jeremy to his feet, lifting him by his shirt collar, and dragged him to the door. He had to yank the flap open, since it had been attached earlier by a latch at Marz’s bidding. Jeremy was wriggling and yelling at him the whole time, but Tristan’s grip was as strong as iron—until he finally let loose, tossing him unceremoniously on the dirt just outside the tent.

“And stay out!” he said, the word out implying more than a mere physical presence in the tent. Somehow, though, he doubted Jeremy would heed his warning and stay away from Marz. He jerked the tent flap back and sat back down beside Marz with a huff, still feeling very disgruntled. When Marz met his eyes, he was still grinning goofily, the pink powder now applied lightly on each of his cheeks.

“You look like an idiot,” Tristan said, a smile finally curving onto his face. He couldn’t resist taking advantage of everybody’s sudden absence. “It suits you,” he muttered, pulling him close and kissing him once more. Of course, he was completely unaware of the red stuff smeared onto his own lips, or else he would be having conniption fits to wipe it off. He would admit to himself that he rather liked Marz’s ability to apply makeup to his own face, but there was no way in hell he’d walk around looking like a mortal harlot himself!

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Replies:

  • A new, and improved Yorik -- Corum & Yorik, 19:43:17 01/09/02 Wed
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