Prince Charming

Note: OMG. Nothing. I’m updating on time! Yay! Congratulate me by giving me those lovely reviews you’re so good at, yeah? *nudge nudge* Wahahahaha! I’m done now…

Chapter Fourteen

Crouched in front of the fireplace, Davinoff watched the first flames of success flicker up with eyes only half-focused on his work. Regardless of his efforts to push them from his mind, Teige’s last words before running off to fetch wood lingered just at the edge of his consciousness, teasing his brain into tying itself in knots with confusion.

“Hey!” An outburst from the other room caught his attention, and he glanced over just in time to find the very source of his problems walking out of the left bedroom again, his eyes preoccupied with some type of bottle in his hand. “This guy does have alcohol…I knew I smelled it the instant I walked in here…”

“Teige…” Drake tried to keep the rising anxiety out of his voice, eying the bottle of liquor like some form of secret deadly poison that, if it got even near him, would produce lethal effects. The last thing he needed right then was warm alcohol in his gut, blurring his mind and dulling his senses. Just having Teige around messed up his common sense enough.

“This is exactly what you need!” Teige insisted, and Drake made an effort not to groan. “Something to help you lighten up a bit for once…see the world from a different perspective…let me see if I can find glasses-“

“No!” The smaller man glanced back, his slender form lingering in the doorway and Drake found himself swallowing down desire like a drug, trying in every way possible not to let his eyes travel. “I can’t…there’s… There’s no way you’re getting me to drink that...”

“Aww…” Teige pouted, Davinoff’s gaze flickering to his lower lip, then his hip as he placed a hand there, the neck of the offending bottle of liquid still clutched in it. “…but Drake…I found it…and it’s here, and it’s free…if we both promise not to rape each other then-“

“Teige…there is no way in hell you’ll be getting one drop of that junk in me…and to keep things simple, you probably shouldn’t drink any either.” At the other man’s look he defended himself. “For all we know, it’s poisoned! A…lethal weapon in disguise, and besides…you look too young to be drinking alcohol anyway…” The smaller man scowled at the last comment, then gave a defeated sigh, approaching his companion, bottle still in hand, before setting the container off to the side reluctantly and taking a seat beside the rather startled form of Drake.

“Alright…I guess we’ll just have to talk tonight then, huh? It’s high time you took part in our conversations…” As he spoke, he leaned back, placing his weight on his palms behind him and eying his companion with ocean eyes Drake swore he could get lost in. Eventually, the larger man gave a slow nod accepting the terms as he returned his gaze to flickering fire, just now beginning to take up a brighter, more powerful flame.

“Sure…you keep away the alcohol…we can talk all you like.”

So, for hours, they did. Teige talked about his life before Cyprien, describing the village that had adopted him as a boy, the man who first tried to teach him to wield a weapon, and the old seer who had showed him everything he knew of the healing arts. He told of his childhood crush on a girl named Elsiea who had moved into town shortly after his sixteenth birthday, and the disastrous effects when he came forward with his feelings and found out she’d mistaken him for female all along. Drake remained, as per his character, mostly silent through the tales, but Teige treasured the moments when he could entice a smile, no matter how small, from the man’s otherwise stony expression.

Gradually, the light faded from outside and the healthy fire dwindled, never going out, as Drake continued to feed it, but lingering at a quiet flicker in the background, and as he spoke, Teige slowly turned the tables on his companion, carefully changing the mood until he could begin extracting his own bits of information about his usually silent partner. Eventually, he began getting what he wanted.

Drake had grown up in a village much like Teige, with a mother, father, and younger brother. Their town had existed somewhere near where they stood now, but closer to the base of the mountain, experiencing all seasons and year round natural beauty. In fact, most all of his early life had been as one from a storybook paradise. Except for one drawback. In exchange for beauty and prosperity, the inhabitants of their town constantly paid the price with the forever-looming threat…of vampires. The bloodsucking night dwellers inhabited the area in a higher concentration than most and often took their fair share of sacrifices, especially during key points in the year. His three-year-old brother had been one of them. Davinoff told the story of his mother’s grieving, pushing away the needs of her firstborn for the one lost, and in the end, blaming her five-year-old son for the loss of his younger sibling, without inflection, his voice toneless and face unreadable.

“How could you stand it?” Teige questioned quietly, his eyes overflowing with a concern that, for the most part, Drake didn’t even seem to notice, his dark eyes lost in the fire and gaze reflecting the flickering orange flame.

“I loved my mother… And it encouraged me to try harder, always push myself to see maybe, if I was good enough, or strong enough …she might notice me and forgive me…but…” Drake frowned slightly, unconsciously shifting as he turned his gaze from the fire to the floor. “…I think, somewhere in my teenage years…I realized it wouldn’t matter. I still tried of course…there was nothing I wanted more than her praise…but slowly, eventually…I guess I sort of gave up on it…I left the village before I turned sixteen. Couldn’t stand it anymore. Took everything I had…and never looked back. Haven’t seen her since…”

“What about your father?”

Drake gave a wry smile, a look that held a sort of bitter humor that made Teige’s gut curl, and he glanced to the side, their eyes locking before he spoke. “He left my mother for another man. Couldn’t stand her after she broke down, hardly a woman anymore…more a shell…came in one day with someone I didn’t recognize…a traveler from another town I think…never came back.” Teige didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and settled for something in between, an uncertain smile working its way onto his lips even as his eyes stung. He opened his mouth, but no words came out and he ended up shutting it. “I didn’t understand it at the time…but later, my mom would tell me that I’d inherited his satanic disease…that I was a vile, unholy child…not meant to keep the company of civilized others…”

“Drake…” Teige’s eyes had lowered almost to the floor, hiding his expression until a startlingly gentle touch brushed over his cheek causing his eyes to snap up in surprise even as Davinoff’s thumb wiped away the dampness present there. Again, he opened his mouth to speak, but the other spoke first, his words so soft, even at such a short distance he barely made them out.

“Please, gods, don’t cry…I don’t think I could stand it right now…”

“I-” Suddenly, their bodies felt so close, the rest of the world so far away as they hung there, inches apart, breath intermingling, as each of them waited for some sign that no matter what they did seconds from that moment, whatever peace they had between them then would stay, and nothing about the way they felt for each other would change. “…was she right?”

Brown locked to blue, earth to sky as their gazes met, and Teige’s grip laced with the other’s before it could drop away, holding it in place even as a pink blush, visible even in the firelight, rose in the smaller man’s cheeks.

“In some ways, I think maybe she was…”

When their lips met, two hearts slammed into action, identical heartbeats pounding to a newfound rhythm as a flood of restrained emotions suddenly spilled over the barrier. The kiss was neither tentative, nor aggressive, but a passionate, meaningful mix between the two as their mouths tangled and bodies pressed close. Upon contact, Teige’s eyes had fallen shut, dark feathery crescents staining his rapidly heating cheeks whilst his slender grip tightened in the other’s hold, and Davinoff’s far larger hands encompassed his completely.

For a time, their kiss stayed that way, closed mouth and innocent with nothing but the smooth skin contact of pressed lips between them, but, eventually, the Teige grew impatient, first attempting to entice the other into taking further action by spreading his lips willingly, then, once frustrated with the man’s stubborn hesitance, taking initiative himself with the flicker of a tongue across the barrier. At that point, Drake withdrew, ending the kiss abruptly without warning and leaving them both considerably flushed and unsatisfied.

“Drake-“ Teige began his whine, their faces still less than an inch apart and breath mingling with every exhale, but a firm shake of the head from the other stopped his protest before it began.

“You’re not…supposed to go farther than that on a first kiss…” Drake’s words brushed over his lips like a heated drug, leading them closer until they met again, barely grazing, each one soft and teasing.

“In the dungeon-“

“Doesn’t count.”

“Drake…” Their lips pressed more fully, Teige leaning up and catching the larger man’s in his before opening his eyes to find russet locked on him. For the second time, his tongue dipped out experimentally, slipping along the valley between the other’s lips, and this time, his heart fluttered with success as the man’s mouth parted in consent, a gruff moan escaping him no matter how he tried to stifle it even as his dark eyes spilled over with a guilty lust.

“Teige-“

“I want,” he murmured quietly as he trailed soft lips to the corner of the other’s mouth, “to do everything you’re never supposed to do…after a first kiss.” He felt Drake tense, a firm grip rising to his hip as if to push him off, but then at the same time preventing him from leaving, and the next instant, Drake turned his head, bringing their lips firmly back together with newfound craving. To Teige's elation, he didn’t pull away.

In seconds their mouths mingled all over again, this time, Davinoff breeching the barrier between them and greedily slipping inside to taste and explore everything in the small, hot cavern beneath him. When his kiss swallowed the smaller man’s first, breathy moan, he knew he had lost whatever battle he’d been fighting, and didn’t care in the slightest, mumbling distractedly against the other’s lips as he went. “This…is why I didn’t want to drink the wine…”

“Mm…” Teige opened his mouth to reply, then lost the words to a soft gasp of breath as the other’s kisses trailed down from his lips, to the base of his ear, then the crevice between jaw and throat, the gentle ministrations sending unholy spikes of pleasure through his system like an addicting poison. “That’s why,” he finally managed to get out amidst chopped breaths, “you should have accepted it when you had the chance…”

With more care than he ever would have thought possible from the fierce mercenary, Davinoff eased his captive back from a sitting position, onto the floor, the smaller man’s dark hair splaying out against the stained maple flooring in a way that once again reminded the watching figure above of a mythical fairy tale, though his flush cheeks and kiss-swollen lips did something to mar the usual storybook innocence. “And why is that?” He questioned quietly, coming up over his prize and capturing petal soft lips in his own, savoring the feel like the first taste of sweet honey before a feast.

“Cause then…you would have had an excuse…”

Withdrawing ever so slightly, Davinoff ran his gaze once more over the beauty before him, and Teige felt his heart tumble at the unbelievable compassion so raw and evident, whereas only hours ago he’d seen nothing but unreadable darkness. “I don’t need an excuse…you’re all the reason I need.”

“Drake…” His lower lip caught between his teeth, the unexpected show of emotion something he felt sure he’d never seen directed at him once in his life, certainly not from Cyprien, and when the other gently urged his lips free, catching them in a soft embrace so very foreign to him, his breath left him in a shudder of contentment, lashes fluttering shut once again and fingers lacing around behind the other’s neck to clutch at the soft mane of burgundy red.

For some time, they moved slowly, firelight bathing their bodies in a constant orange heat and leaving flickering shadows as their hands traveled. Lazy touches aroused a careful, lingering warmth between them that built up like a new fire, small and hesitant, which only the most careful of tending could bring to a full blaze. Anything but the finest kindling capable of smothering it before it began. Over time though, tentative brushes became more daring, and faint desires built into avid needs, instinct demanding more than cautious innocence before the night met its end.

When Davinoff’s grip slid from slender waist to broadened hips, thumbs dancing in dangerously close to areas that sent Teige’s blood on fire, the smaller man stifled a moan, fighting the urge to buck into the contact and lowering his hands to the other man’s wrists, his fingers barely making halfway around.

“Drake…” It sounded more like a breathy prayer than anything else, his eyes shut but heart racing as he struggled to gain control of his voice. Eventually, he managed to still his breath enough to swallow and open his eyes, meeting with russet brown, reflecting the firelight and a thousand other things without saying a word. “…please…”

“I…haven’t done this in a while…” For the first time, Teige watched real uncertainty waver in the warrior’s gaze, always so strong and sure of himself, but now almost hesitant. “I might not live up to your immortal vampire…”

At that moment, Teige couldn’t find words to speak. Just the idea that Drake might find himself inferior, incapable in come way, compared to his previous captor, left him speechless. Yes, Cyprien was beautiful, and powerful, and even, in some respects, kind to him if he could go as far as to say that, but he could never in his life bring himself to love the cold-hearted immortal, and just the thought of Drake sent his emotions reeling.

Apparently, the man took his silence the wrong way, a sort of shadow falling over him, but just before he pulled away Teige caught his face with his fingertips, running his hand with almost trembling hesitancy down the man’s cheek as his eyes traveled over the powerful features he knew so well now. “Drake…Cyprien could never, in the entirety of his immortal lifetime, come close to what you’ve already given me…you have nothing to live up to.”

With the last of his words, their lips met again, Teige’s hands lowering to splay across a broad, rock-solid abdomen even as he felt Drake’s fingers take a new bold leap in pressing up at the thin, flimsy layer of cloth keeping his hands from ever reaching skin. Gathering courage from his companion’s actions, Teige, too, took initiative, and in seconds, both pairs of hands moved with the same purpose, the smaller man’s deft fingers, slipping over the laces on Drake’s top and loosening them with ease, and Drake’s hands pushing up with rather clumsy persistence at the brown tunic covering Teige’s pale flesh.

When Drake first succeeded in removing the smaller man’s tunic top from his belt, revealing a lean, bare stomach to hungry eyes, he seemed, for the most part, satisfied, and couldn’t be bothered to work on revealing more as his touches trailed over the expanse, his thumb grazing the smooth material like a miser might covet gold. Teige, however, grew impatient with his inability to remove the other’s shirt without his consent, and, in the end, Davinoff conceded to his wishes, sitting up quickly and shedding the useless cloth like a second skin. For a moment, Teige couldn’t find the will in him to breathe.

Cyprien had a graceful, hidden strength that loomed about him like an aura, giving him an unreal quality that could either draw or cast away the attention of others. Drake looked about as real as one man could get. Clothed, he towered over most, his size alone enough to warn off most possible foes; as he sat now, only someone with a death wish would have challenged his might. Running his eyes over him, Teige could have sworn there wasn’t a part of him not solid with muscle, his body rippled with the artistic complexity of a god and figure gifted with the sheer might of a gladiator. When he pressed close again, his bare-chested body melding against the softer, more petite figure in every place imaginable, Teige didn’t doubt the theory, not bothering to stifle a mewled moan as it escaped his lips in a rush.

“So that’s your big secret…” Teige muttered rather breathlessly, and Drake quirked an eyebrow curiously, watching in silence as the other blinked up to him with eyes unabashed by wanton lust. “…you were a god in your past life…or still are one…down on this earth to torment me…” For a moment, he could have sworn Drake was about to laugh, and he realized with a small pang that he had never heard the man laugh before, but then, Drake stifled it and brought their foreheads together, eyes still locked on each other as he shook his head.

“Not quite so glorious, I’m afraid…try again.”

Teige’s cheeks flushed, blazing to a fiery red at the man’s look before he stuttered, diverting his gaze away as he spoke. “H-how long…did you say it had been since you’ve done…this…?” His words died out at the end, his face, if possible, heightening another shade, and the man’s smirk was all he needed to send heart pounding again.

“Six years.”

“Holy shit…” Whether the statement expressed his shock at the man’s remark or something else altogether as the Davinoff’s hand slid promptly beneath his shirt, the man atop couldn’t quite tell, but when Teige arched his body, lifting up in an effort to gain more of the desperately needed contact, Drake decided he didn’t really care for the reason, relishing in the sight as the smaller man readily aided him in ridding himself of the unwelcome barrier. “You do realize,” he managed to get out eventually, his chest rising and falling rapidly and head tilted slightly to the side, eyes shut, “that you could have had…any…and every woman you could have possibly wanted…during that time?”

“I was traveling…” Drake muttered as an excuse, barely convincing himself let alone the breathless man beneath him as he worked his hands down to the smaller man’s belt, unclasping and untying a variety things which he suddenly deemed far too complicated to be practical. Maybe later, he could buy the man a new belt.

“Oh, yeah, and there wasn’t a single woman willing to get her hands on you, just once?”

“Mm…maybe a couple.” Their lips tangled again, Teige’s hands gliding over the rippling expanse of bronze tanned chest before him and delighting in the feel of every dip and curve.

“Hmph…maybe like…every one of them that thought they had a chance…” His fingers slipped over laces and clips, ridding the man of a medicine belt, a weapons belt, a second weapons belt, and a sash before he actually got to the man’s pants. All but the sash gave a slight clatter as they hit the wood floor, each falling off to either side and lying forgotten as soon as they did.

“In those six years, Teige, trust me…I had each and every woman I wanted…”

“But I thought you said…” A thought dawned on him and he glanced to the man above, struggling not to lose himself in the meaningful russet that met his gaze. “You don’t like women at all do you…”

“I suppose there might be some truth in that statement…”

In a simultaneous decision, they sat up, Davinoff moving first and helping the other to a sitting position, pulling him into an almost bruising kiss before they went to rapid work on their boots, the only thing remaining besides leggings and a rather clunky item to mess with.

“We should just stop wearing shoes…” Teige commented with only partial sarcasm, and, after sparing a hasty glance to the side, he felt his heart flutter at the man’s brief smile, his mood soaring with just that look. “But really, back on the other subject, females do have their plus-“ Just as he finished ridding himself of his boots, Davinoff caught hold of his waist, lifting him like nothing and pulling his slender body in close against his chest. With the smaller figure in his lap, dwarfed in comparison to his lording frame, Drake’s lips trailed up along an expanse of bare throat before coming to rest at the base of his ear.

“Woman, I don’t care what you say…once is all the experience I ever want to have with the opposite sex… You are plenty beautiful enough for me.” Eyes shut and body cocooned in Davinoff’s embrace, Teige felt sure he would never find a safer place in the world.

“Drake-” Words itched at the back of his throat, threatening to spill out no matter how he tried to stifle them, but, thankfully, the other aided in his silence, lowering him back once again before the fire and taking his lips in his. Nothing but the dimming firelight watched as, slowly, with as much care as ever dealt out through the passage of their encounter, the last of the walls between them fell away, all barriers slipping by the by and leaving nothing but the skin and sweat on their bodies.

With almost impossible tenderness, as if one fell touch might shatter the frailer body into a thousand pieces, Davinoff’s fingers trailed over the porcelain smooth features before him, raining kisses soft as the first misty droplets before a storm and enticing sounds that made the barriers to his heart crumble. Two fumbling pairs of hands felt through the near-dark in search of the same goal, stumbling until Drake eventually came upon it, pulling the once forgotten medicine pack close and searching blindly through its contents. With eyes better suited to the dark, Teige aided the distracted hand on its way to a small cylinder of salve, the contents slippery and well fitted to the job they needed doing.

“Will this work?” The older man murmured quietly, his lips catching those beneath him even as he spoke, and Teige gave a silent nod, most of his face in shadow with the fire burned almost to coals, but his blue eyes serene and sure in the darkness. His partner needed no further incentive.

Without another word, Drake worked the salve onto his fingers, preparing first himself, then slipping his hand into place at the other man’s entrance. Obligingly, Teige parted his legs to each side, catching his breath with a stifled groan as a single of the other’s fingers first breeched his muscled barrier and turning his head to the side, knuckles in his mouth to block the sound.

“Teige…”

The smaller man dropped his fist from his mouth with a chopped gasp as a second digit pressed in, but he turned his head at the worried note in the other’s tone, shaking his head and forcing his words steady. “It’s fine, I…I just expected it to hurt…that’s all…” Their eyes locked, Davinoff’s free hand brushing back almost tentatively at the damp black locks clinging to the other’s forehead.

“You sure?”

Teige gave a nod, reaching a hand back in turn to lace through darkened burgundy and offering a soft smile. “Yeah…positive.” At his assurance, a final third finger tested his body’s resistance, stretching him and bringing out a ragged moan as his back arched in natural reaction to the sensations coursing through him. “Now, Drake…please, gods, I want you so much…”

At that moment, that was all the other needed. When his hand pulled away, the man below gave a muffled grunt of disapproval at the loss, but a coarse grip on each side of his hips instantly shushed him, and he kept himself determinedly silent as Davinoff took his body for the first time, the man’s arousal painfully large, stretching his resilient figure to its limits, but achingly fulfilling in a way that made him move to accommodate the invasion, not stall it, regardless of what discomfort he might feel. And, after an eternity of held breath, his tolerance paid off, a shuddery sigh of exhaustion escaping his chest as they completed the coupling, but his body already eager for more as Davinoff’s lips descended.

Slowly, Drake began a careful rhythm, calloused, fighter’s hands making winding paths across the smooth, tender flesh beneath him while his kisses swallowed up every gasp and shudder like precious candy. Delicate, pale fingers splayed out over the broad expanse of his back, tracing powerful, taut muscles as he moved and clenching against his skin when his rigid body hit something within the other to make him cry out his pleasure. He treasured every shake and shudder, relished in every breathy moan, and consumed every cry with a greedy kiss, somehow never able to get enough of the smaller figure’s fiery passion.

As the need became apparent, his pace gradually picked up, Teige’s outbursts increasing in frequency and small, lithe figure rocking to his thrusts. Greedy, powerful hands slid up the man’s forearms, forcing them slowly off his back and lifting them up, over the tossing head of midnight black, and down to a pin to the wood below. Just one hand of his was plenty to shackle the other’s slender wrists to the ground, stretching his gleaming body like a pagan sacrifice below and displaying him for none but himself to see, reflections of the dying embers dancing over the beaded droplets on his skin and shimmering like tiny gems as he panted.

“Davinoff…” His name on the Teige’s lips was a gift from the gods, more treasured and beautiful than any he’d received in his lifetime, and his head fell back with a guttural moan, sweat-soaked burgundy spilling over his luminous back like dark blood and his body taking up a rhythm rougher-still. Without so much as a whimper of complaint, the smaller man’s legs wound their way around his body, circling his waist and offering up perfect access for the much needed increase in pace as the tension built between them.

Like riding a wave, spending the entire time waiting for that one final crash as the adrenaline built the entire way, Teige knew when he had gone far past the point of no return, his fists clenching almost painfully in their position above his head, nails digging into his palms, and breath hitching as his head reeled with sudden sensation. A sharp, scratched cry wrenched its way from his throat at the last instant, lungs tearing for breath as his body arched instinctively, and his mind plummeted nearly into nothingness before he gave his release. As his body made its shattered, trembling descent from the aftereffects, Teige watched with exhausted fascination as Davinoff came closer to his own completion.

In his dazed state, he decided the man reminded him of a lion, lord of the jungle, so calm and regal for the most part, but fiery and alive when it came to passion or combat, his dark crimson mane and rippling aura of strength all just part of the package. When the man finally finished within him, his ferocious nature coming to an explosive close and his powerful figure shuddering with the final effects of their night’s activities, Teige gave a quiet, contented mixture between a grunt and a moan, his legs no longer around the man’s waist, but weaving their way about his legs instead in a tangled fashion that made escape a very difficult thing to consider.

“Teige…” Fatigue lay thickly interlaced with his tone, the larger man’s body quite near shaking as he put up a strong effort to keep from crushing the smaller figure beneath him. “…you have to let me…move.”

“M-mm…” Teige shook his head with an incomprehensible mumble, eyes shut and body obviously satiated. “Feels good like this.”

“Teige…” The larger man nuzzled his neck, placing a brief kiss there before lifting his head to find blue eyes open and watching him. “…at least let me move to the side.”

After a moment’s pause, the smaller man’s legs untangled themselves from his lover’s, allowing Davinoff to carefully dislodged himself and roll over to the side, back facing the dying embers as he pulled Teige’s frailer body neatly against him. For some immeasurable amount of time, Drake simply lay there, fingers lacing and tracing gentle patterns through the soft, silky black curls before him, listening solely to the slow, steady heartbeat beside him and the whistling, angry contrast of the night winds outside. Eventually, when he knew for certain the man had long ago succumbed to sleep, he slid his arms under the sleeping form, figuring that any mattress would be preferable to cold flooring, and lifting the man easily before bringing him off into the far left bedroom. There, he laid him down carefully and, after only a moment’s debate, followed in after him, regardless of the bed’s small size.

That night, the mercenary and his maiden fell asleep in each other's arms, ignorant of the raging storm over head, their own hearts at peace, but by morning, the skies would calm, and the two lovers still had much to say.

Note: BWHAHAHAA!! Ahem. Oh yes. It's smut. :gonk: The thing that terrifies me the most on earth...really........tell me how I did?!? xP ^^;


Review Replies

Corenn: Yup ! Aren't they cute dollies ? With liiiiittle hands and liiiiittle feet and biiig eyes !! Aren't you a cute dolly, Cypri-chan ?? Aren't you ? *hug her dolls*
Cyprien : I felt like... violated...
Raspel : I felt like if our aura of frightening, cruel and sadistic villains had been smashed up -_-
Anyway, it make me sooo angry to know that I do grammar error >__< Two years that I read texts in english ('coz you don't have to count on school for that... They learn you thing lie how to debate on whether cheese is good or not, but won't ever tell you how to speak REALLY with an English.) and I'm not even able to speak the right way T__T I'll kill myself if this didn't mean I couldn't read the next chapter of Prince Charming.
Spanish is much like frensh, but I prefer english^^. If you really want to speak this language, you should read texts in spanish... In fact, I'm the one lucky 'coz I already speak a language difficult to learn ! So I had to learn only english and spanish, which are easy to understand... Whereas english must learn frensh, spanish or german, wich are awful :p I'm ACHIAVELIC, I say you.
Anyway, all these... useless things said and I hadn't yet told you how much I cherished, loved, lurved this story^^ I'll go in Little Brittain soon - the 7, for hollyday and for a month, so I won't be able to review T___T A month without computer, internet or book (INTERESTING books I mean).......... You SO have interest in posting many chapter while I'll be suffering in there.
*hug Moonstar while crying* I'LL MISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU T___T (and Cyprien and Raspel T__T. And even this poor sexually-confused Drake, and even this strange uke-thing named Teige wich in fact RULES his seme. If Cyprien make him come back to him, he'll be a little surprised...
Cyprien : You're mine again... little daywalker ! *predatory grin*
Teige *hit him* YOU !! SEE THE DIRTINESS IN THIS CASTLE !! COULDN'T YOU CLEAN IT WHILE I WAS AWAY ? ON YOUR KNEE, SLAVE !!
Cyprien : But... I'm the villain !! How dare you speak to me like that ! T__T
Teige : ... and if you're obedient, I'll give you a kiss.
Cyprien : ... Yesssss ! *think* I'll get a kiss from him ! I'm so lucky ! ^__^)
... Is that normal if you've turned to purple ? O___O Eyh... You're okay ?
.... Are you breathing anymore ?
I'll send you a postcard, but as I don't know your adress it will be maybe a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle hard XD. Give me time... MUCH time...

XDD Wow. I have a feeling Cyprien and Raspel are going to need some serious therapy after escaping you......if they ever do escape you. :gonk: xD ^^ Well, I'm certainly glad you're learning...or else I wouldn't get these lovely reviews! And really, don't sweat the grammar thing. Reading is definitely a good way to get better, ya? Just.......be glad you're reading my stuff now...and not the last time I was posting a story. That would be a veeeerrrryyy bad time to try and take any type of grammar example from me if you catch my drift. xP But I'm getting better...I actually get compliments on my grammar now! Whoot! (Everyone used to say: hey, really cool story! Would be better though if you worked on the grammar...) And I was like. T_T But ya.

Poor sexually confused Drake...and poor Cyprien! Gosh...Teige is like...totally abusing all my big tough dominant males, no? ^^ Poor Cyprien...on his knees for a kiss. xD As for the post card, well...if I DO end up getting one from you...I think I'll like...faint. And then move. Cause you'd have to be a pretty good stalker to figure all that out. S'pecially cause I lie about almost everything on the internet. o_O But, chya. Thanks for the (uber long ^^) review! It makes me happy. =^.^=


Savage: Man the more I read this story the more I like. You've developed both Drake and Teige wonderfully they're extremely likable, Drake not being as cold as I thought he would be and Teige having far more fire than I thought he might have. This is now my favorite story on the entire site. I look foward to your updates. ^_^

Thanks! ^^ I'm glad you like how the personalities have developed...I have a habit of making things go slowly between the characters, but I'm glad you like how this is turning out. Favorite story on the site? Whoot! *ahem* -professional- I'm honored...really. xD ^^ That's a high compliment. I hope you continue to enjoy it!


MakaiKitty: Update. Yay! Well, our boys alone in a little house, snowed in for a week? Gee, what could possibly happen? I look forward to the next update, whenever it may be.

Oh, and I hope you feel all better soon *hugs*

*coughcough* Oh, I have no idea...I mean seriously...what could two men POSSIBLY do together...alone...in the cold...in a cabin...by a fire............with whine!!! Whahahaha! *ahem* I didn't use the wine...really... :gonk: ^^ And thanks for the get well note. I'm feeling much better now. =^.^=


Falcon Bertille: Great new chapter!

I love the way Drake and Teige's relationship continues to develop. Their conversation during the dagger lessons seemed really natural. I know that you're concerned about showing more of Drake's dark past, but I want to assure you that everything you've told us so far comes across as very believable, and very appropriate for the character. Sure, most characters in fiction have a tortured history, but it's not cliche' -- it's just that a tortured history is often what drives people to be extraordinary, and extraordinary characters are the most interesting to read about.

Also, I really enjoyed your descriptions of their travel. You made me feel like the characters were actually moving through a real place, with real terrain and real weather. "Snow crunched beneath Teige’s feet, the cold seeping through the thick, water-resistant skins of his boots and chilling him to the bone regardless of how much cover he packed on the outside. Each step felt like breaking through brittle glass..." Brr! That description made me shiver -- and that's not an easy thing to do during a Texas summer. Drake's concern about Teige being cold was a sweet little moment.

The discovery of the not-quite abandoned cabin was interesting. I can't make up my mind if all is as it seems, or if you might have something more planned. Nice dialect with the old man. I pride myself in writing good dialogue, but I absolutely can not do dialects. I appreciated the way you included smells in your description of the place: "...dust, old pine sap, and fermented whiskey..." Sensory details other than sight really help evoke a setting.

Can't wait for Chapter Fourteen!

Love,
Falcon

Nyah. ^^ I know, extrodinary characters are the bestest...but still, it's nice to hear that the things don't come off as overdone. ^^ I suppose there's always a point, no? But yay. And I totally know what you mean about the Texas summer! Well...not exactly...it's a Mississippi summer...but it's pretty close. I think that must be why I enjoy writing cold scenery so much...because I'm always hot. :gonk: I'm glad I got it down well...considering I have about -zip- experience with snow. o_O I've been in fake snow before though. xD

As for the almost abandoned cabin...I don't know. When I wrote it, there was a little history and side story going on around in my head...but the plot shoved me on to new areas...and I think it's going to stay just a cabin...(a handy plot device to shove Teige and Drake in a room together, oh yes...:gonk:). But nah...I could have done it without the room...so I'm not cheating! :gonk: I'm glad you liked his accent! Wha! For a while...I wondered if it might come off as odd. I mean...at least to me...he sounded totally, totally Southern...and I have no idea how mountain people or people in his area would speak but hey! That's the advantage of having it be my story, no? xP ^^; So long as I don't take too many liberties.......^^ o_o

Thanks for your uber lovely reviews as always! They make me so happy...=^.^=


Charisa: Yo! I really liked this chappie! ;) the old man seemed odd, like he *knew* something. (>.

Lol. Yes. He was a very odd old man. And he DOES have a little bit of a story roaming around there in the back of my mind...but the plot got away too fast for him, and I don't think we'll be seeing much more of him. I suppose there's always the possibility...but I doubt it. ^^ Thanks for reviewing!