And so, let us continue.

**************

Play, part 21

I, for obvious reasons, was less than mollified by Christo's words.

An icy little smile made its languid way to my lips, curling ever so slightly.

Malevolent Moods 'R' Us, at your service.

My voice cut through the air with our combined force behind it, sharp as a blade, slicing through skin at every word. "My dear Angel," blood blossomed on the top of his hand,"remove," blood flowing from his wrist, "your hand," blood at the bend of his elbow,"before I," blood at his shoulder," do it," blood at his neck, "for you," a finishing slash to his forehead.

The upper right side of his body had now officially been ripped apart by the sheer force of my will. Well, it was always best to punctuate your words with a little physical action. Really drove the point home and all that. Though I tended to do a bit of an overkill sometimes. Well, it certainly went with the territory, now didn't it?

Christo's hand, however, hadn't moved.

Such idiot companions have I.

"Angel, darling," slash to the other cheek, " did you," blood dripped from his forearm now, "hear me?", crimson exploded on his chest.

Jareth's delicious laugh rang out behind me, a sumptuous, delirious laugh of pleasure. A rather familiar sumptuous, delirious laugh of pleasure. That was a bit of a nagging thought, that familiarity. His words, however, were rather more than a bit nagging.

"Ah, but Jalen... he hasn't had his fill yet."

The thought crawled out of my subconscious, whispering of outrage and injured ego. "This is some sort of power play, then?" Only "exhilaration" racing across his aristocratic features in reply.

Damnable, damnable men.

I proceeded to bristle inwardly for a few moments. Then, a little sardonic smile.

I whispered softly, "A little power a la carte, is that it?" A silky laugh trickled out into the night, artfully tinged with a subtle bitterness. "Well here, both of you, let's see how you deal with this... little... slice."

And with that melodramatic little outburst, I thrust the power into both of them. Hard. I was not in a particularly forgiving mood, after all, having been the unwitting subject of this little experiment.

I felt the power then, washing through me, through them, giving back the ice into the fire and the fire into the ice. And mixed with it, as well, a bit of something else, something darker, something... more potent. A very explosive mixture, very volatile.

So volatile, in fact, that my dear Christo was physically thrown backwards with a startling amount of force, a delightfully shocked expression suffused across his ethereally lovely face.

It's not often you see such an expression on Christo's face, actually. Surprise doesn't come naturally to him. Well, at least, not anymore. He's a bit jaded, my Angel is. Not that he hasn't an excuse for it, being a few centuries older than I am.

And I am most certainly a jaded individual. Too many nights, too many experiences, many of them unfulfilling, disappointing, whatever. This world of ours, this endless nighttime, has its limits. Large, outreaching limits albeit, but limits nonetheless. And I've explored so many of them, tasted of so many of them. The mundanities of my world start to pale after awhile. Not unlike me. Nicely symbolic, really.

Still, every now and again, I am quickened by the unexpected, intrigued once more by a certain beguiling realm of possibility. And a certain beguiling realm of amusement.

Tonight was promising both.

Indeed, I would have enjoyed the whole spectacle with Christo immensely, had I not been otherwise occupied. I was, however, being crushed into the conveniently close form of Jareth by this very same startling amount of force. I suppose I got to engage in a little physical play, after all. Not a bad consequence as consequences went.

While I was receiving a very enticing view of his chest, what with my face pressed into the smooth flesh and all, I could both hear and feel that same delirious laughter ringing forth.

Excessive amounts of power must have agreed with his system. How fortunate for him. My body and mind were still in the process of adjusting and rebelling, respectively.

His rich, cultured voice flowed into my ear, simply bursting with satisfaction - it was nearly palpable, that sharp twinge of satisfaction. "Jalen, Jalen....you certainly do know how to share."

My answer came out a bit muffled since I was, more or less, talking into his chest. Not that it wasn't a perfectly beautiful chest, a most delicious chest...but still.

My lips slid across his naked skin, softly, sensuously. That was my way, of course, always salvaging a situation. Here's hoping male lust was still my friend.

"Creativity, love - it's a lifestyle."

******************

Play, part 22

One gloved hand began to caress my curls, pulling and tugging playfully, lingering against my skin for just a bit longer than was necessary. In short, responding.

Let's hear it for male lust.

I was set to continue on with this little play when my senses brought something a bit different to my attention. The hum of Christo's presence was marking the air behind me. An electrifying, chill presence of power. Moving closer.

I extricated myself lightning-quick from my more than a little enjoyable position in Jareth's lap and rose up, stalking my way behind my dear Angel faster than ever before. So fast, indeed, that his eyes were still focused on where I had been.

Hmmm....perhaps excessive amounts of power did agree with my system, after all.

Besides, this baby liked to play.

I slid my now warm hands across the muscles of his back, touching the alabaster flesh through the blood drenched material of his shirt, sensing the seeping coldness bleeding through, as well.

I rose up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, brushing my lips along the slender ridges as I spoke. "Poor Angel," biting ever so gently into that seemingly rock hard flesh, a teasing nip, "he's hungry."

I could positively feel the glowing smile that little comment generated.

His hand reached behind to encircle my waist in what was intended as a tender embrace. Ah, my Christo, always the perfect romanticist.

I eluded the hand with delicate ease, twisting a little this way, now that, moving with catlike grace now here, now there, always dodging the searching efforts of the hand, laughing softly at this little game. Dear God, I could forgive him anything as long as we had our little games to play.

I turned to face him then, projecting a fully sardonic grin that was, somehow, still delightfully full of mirth. "Angel, Angel, Angel...you should know the rules by now - Look, but do not Touch."

"Ah, but dear Angelique, how shall you share with me if I cannot touch you?"

"Ah, but who says that I want to share?"

A throaty, deep voice poured into my ear. "Ah, but Jalen, who says that you don't?"

His hands drew me back. Forcefully, just a bit possessively. The butterfly touch of silk rippled against my skin as my back melded into the flesh of his chest. One gloved hand drew across my neck, resting on my shoulder. Holding me. And not softly, at that. Two little starbursts of pain at my shoulder, fingers pushing against the chords of muscle. A thready wisp of pain, actually, clawing its ethereal way into my flesh.

Absolutely delicious.

And extraordinarily dominating. This would have to be remedied. Soon.

Meanwhile, I closed my eyes, tilting my head to the side, letting the push of those fingers explore a little deeper. As they proceeded, I let free a soft sigh, a contented sigh. And turned to nuzzle that exquisite chest, so silky, so near. Pushing a hand into that chest, running my lips along it, letting the cool sharpness of my teeth graze the skin, tantalizing, letting myself explore and be explored, pressing my ear to the heady thumping of his heart, pushing into the soft flesh of the neck with my searching fingers, feeling those gloved hands move from my neck to the sides of my face, running along my supple flesh, languidly, hard-

-and I slipped from his pleasurable grasp without a conscious thought.

I stood now a few feet away, examining my nails in a bored sort of fashion, toying with my hair a little absently. Looking quite the innocent bystander.

Christo's laughter filled the chill silence. "Oh Angelique, I have taught you well."

"But you've been a bit remiss in your lessons, Angel." I turned and waved my finger at him, continuing in my best scolding-mother tone, "You haven't told me anything about tonight's events. Tsk, tsk, tsk, Angel."

Jareth's presence crackled in the air behind me.

I dodged the touch I sensed was to come, moving to keep my dear Jareth in sight as well as my dear Christo.

"Do you remember that comment about touching, love? That now applies to you, as well."

A wicked, feral smile. "Such a pity."

My own wicked smile resurfaced, my eyes wide with hidden laughter, my head shaking in a classic manner of disapproval. "Threadbare lines, threadbare lines..."

My expression snapped back to one of intense focus. "Still, would someone care to share regarding tonight's events, hmmm?"

Two gazes met, consent unspoken. The aforementioned two gazes alighted on my face suddenly, startling in the similarity and contrast between them. Jewel-like, glittering eyes with such potent forces lying inside, one icy, one burning, a blue chill settling around the green eyes, a golden hue imbuing the blue eyes.

Dangerous.

The corners of my mouth curled up ever so slightly. I have a real penchant for dangerous.

**********

Once upon a midnight dreary 
while I wrote, weak and weary,
about many a quaint and curious
event from forgotten lore

     

while I wrote there, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping
as of something gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door...

only a comment, and nothing more!

Xarael called Jalen

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