Out for an Airing Chapter 2
I was gonna sit down and rewrite my lost 'Eternal Youth' chapters, but I couldn't get my laptop to work at work today and by the time I got home, my mind had moved on to 'Out for an Airing'.
Deal with it.
So here's Chapter 2!
Chase's plans for the evening are left in tatters after an old lover of the dragon lord shows up at the club and takes a distinct disliking to Jack.
“Why are you doing this?” Jack asked, wiping tea from his chin.
Chase didn't answer immediately. The wicked lord was too busy chasing a few errant rivulets of tea down Spicer's neck with his tongue.
“Because it pleases me to do so.” The dragon lord retorted.
Jack's two stalkers/admirers were hanging casually nearby, waiting for the beautiful youth to leave his keeper's care. Chase could hardly wait; the blonde looked devious enough to stimulate his intellect, though the dark skinned man might try to take advantage of Jack's light build and physical weakness to try to take the albino teen by force.
It was all Chase could do to keep from rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Come on, Chase.” Jack's voice brought the dragon lord's attention back to the young man in his lap. “The outfit, the dancing, the date . . . you never - I mean - it's just . . .”
“Spicer?” Chase prompted, wishing Jack would just get to the point.
Jack stared down at the drink Chase still held, running his thumb over the warrior's large, strong hand fitfully.
“Are you . . . getting bored with me?” He asked in a tiny voice.
“Bored? What would lead you to believe I have become bored with you?” The warlord demanded.
In truth, the question caught Chase off guard. Why would Spicer think he was getting bored? He had brought the youth half-way around the planet, dressed him up, and shown him to the world. How did any of that equal boredom on Chase's part?
Jack turned his head, not wanting to meet his lover's eyes.
“You are not a geisha, Spicer; look at me.” Chase ordered.
Jack did so, his eyes popping wide open.
“I-i-i-it's j-just - all this effort, for me? Just because you want me to enjoy myself? I-I just don't buy it.”
Chase's golden eyes narrowed. The amber orbs grew hard and flinty. Jack leaned back when he saw this, trying to slide off of the dragon lord's lap, but Chase's arm around his waist held him fast. The teen gave a shocked cry when Chase jerked him forward sharply, leaving him pressed tightly against the ancient warrior's chest.
“You listen to me, Jack Spicer,” Chase snarled in one small ear. “I shall expend whatever efforts I chose on your ungrateful self. You may view this evening as a desperate effort to spice up our love life, but I am finding enjoyment in showing off my beautiful lover and I will continue to do so whenever I see fit!”
“'S-Showing off'?” Jack echoed in surprise.
Chase grinned against Jack's ear, then sharply nipped the youth's neck just behind the curve of his jaw. He was rewarded with a whimpering yelp that only served to agitate the two men waiting for Jack.
“You are so blind sometimes, Jack,” Chase murmured, going from murderous to amused in an instant. “Don't you see how these men look at you? They want you. They want your soft skin and beautiful eyes and talented tongue. They want you naked and panting and begging for them to come inside you. Everyone here wants to fuck you, Spicer.”
Jack's eyes grew wider. He glanced sideways at Chase, a quizzical noise crawling from his throat.
“Oh yes,” Chase purred in confirmation. “But they don't get to, do they? Only I get those things from you, Jack. You are mine.”
The dragon lord crushed his mouth to the goth teen's in a brutal kiss.
“You belong to me, body and soul. I do not share and I do not give my possessions away. However,” Chase paused to pepper Jack's face with light, tender kisses. “I do enjoy flaunting my treasures before those who covet them.”
“'Treasures'?” Jack parroted again.
“Oh yes,” Chase moaned.
Jack shuddered with delight.
“My little alabaster doll set with eyes of ruby and hair of garnet.”
Chase tipped the nearly empty glass so the chilled bottom came into contact with Spicer's bare stomach. The teenager arched and keened, then repeated his actions when the ancient warlord sucked one ivory earlobe into his mouth and lightly nibbled.
More than just Jack's two stalkers were staring outright. A small crowd had gathered to watch the goth boy toy and his Asian daddy make out. Chase grinned at the onlookers, then shoved Jack off of his lap.
Spicer yelped as he was ejected from his perch, staggering for a few steps before he got his feet under him. For some reason, he felt lightheaded. Jack turned and looked back at Chase.
The dragon lord was reclining in his hard plastic seat as regally as any king on a throne. He threw Jack a smile full of dark, evil delights.
“Now get back out on that dance floor. Make someone go home and commit suicide because they'll never have anything as fine as you.”
Jack nodded woodenly, his head still swimming. The youth walked stiffly towards the dance floor. Chase's words and the meaning behind them swirled about in his head and Jack took no notice of anything else while he tried to sort them.
Jack was Chase's toy.
Jokes about boy toys and playthings aside, that what Jack Spicer was to Chase Young: a sexual toy.
See the new Jack Spicer doll!
A fetishist's dream! Get yourself some sexy goth action today!
Two tight openings for hours of naughty fun! No inflation or batteries required!
Jack knew this. He was cool with it.
He knew from the day - Geez, had it really only been six months ago? - when Jack had gone to Chase's lair for his daily 'beg-for-attention-and-approval' session. As usual, Chase had refused and insulted him until Spicer was on the brink of tears. Jack blubbered out the offer of everything he could think of to try to sway the evil lord and in his desperate state, blurted out the magic phrase:
“What you do want?! My body?! It's yours! Chase, please!”
Jack had instantly slapped his hand over his mouth. Chase was sure to kill him now; he was the mighty Chase Young. He could have anyone or anything he desired. There was no reason he would want a scrawny white weirdo. He would probably be disgusted by the thought that Jack wanted him that way.
But Chase hadn't killed him. The dragon lord had merely raised an eyebrow and smiled that smug, sexy smile of his.
“Really, Spicer?”
In short order Jack had been on his hands and knees, giving up his virginity to his idol. Right there in the throne room. With the help of a little olive oil that Chase hastily retrieved from the kitchen. That had been a great day.
Since then, Chase's treatment of him had softened considerably. Young still treated him with detachment when they met at Showdowns, or any other business-related evil gathering, but alone Jack was treated with something akin to tenderness.
Chase was still brutally honest with Jack in reference to his fighting skills, but instead of telling him he was a weak and pathetic worm, he'd say something along the lines of:
'You're not a warrior, Jack. Fight with your brain instead of your body.'
And now he was taking Jack out and dressing him up and going on about treasure and alabaster statues . . . it just didn't add up. The tech wizard knew better than anybody how Chase could blow hot and then cold, but his treatment of Jack before they became lovers had been nothing short of vindictive. And suddenly he was the evil warlord's treasure?
An epiphany went off in Spicer's mind with all the subtlety of a chainsaw.
If you met someone you had the hots for, someone who even professed to idolize you and worship the ground you walked on and then you made a move on that person and got rejected, that would hurt.
Like, a lot.
Instead of suffering in silence, you might even try to drive that person away by being cruel or showing them your monstrous true form or throwing them to a dinosaur.
And then, if that person made a pass at you, you'd be beside yourself with joy. In between bouts of fucking like rabbits, you'd pamper and spoil that person and might even get around to taking them out, dressing them up and showing them off.
And if all those things were true . . .
. . . then Jack was more than just an easy lay.
Chase Young cared about him?
Maybe they were true lovers and not just owner and fuck toy?
Jack's heart swelled.
Well, his lover wanted him to get out there and shake his moneymaker on the dance floor, and if that's what his lover wanted, then that's what his lover got!
“Chase Young is my lover!!” Jack howled to the world in general. “I am an alabaster god!!”
With that he flung himself back into the dancing throng.
Chase wondered what was going through the tech wizard's head as he stood motionless by the dance floor. For a moment, he thought that the Long Island Iced Teas he'd been pouring down the teenager's throat were too strong for him to handle, but Jack straightened and howled out his declaration of love to the club before leaping back into the crush.
Chase chuckled to himself. Silly little mortal boy . . .
Raising the chilled glass to his lips, Chase sipped at the last of the drink. Jack's two stalkers drifted back onto the dance floor, as well as a few who had been attracted by Jack and Chase's actions at the table. What a wonderful night this was shaping up to be.
“Such games you play, Half-A-Dragon.” A smooth voice observed.
Chase gave no outward sign that he had heard the comment. In the privacy of his own mind, the dragon lord said a very bad word. If there was any luck to be had, the speaker hadn't seen Jack frolicking in Chase's lap-
“And such pretty toys you find.”
Double fuck.
“I wonder . . . might you have a toy I can play with?”
Chase lowered the glass casually.
“If you should wonder anything, it's how you would be so stupid as to forget that I don't share my lovers.”
“You never minded when I spread my charms around.”
The speaker was in the seat Jack had tried to take. Chase still refused to look around; whatever form the speaker was wearing, it wouldn't be his own.
“You were never my lover, fool.”
Suddenly incensed by the presumption, Chase flicked the glass towards his unwelcome company. If it had connected, it would have driven shards of glass deep enough into a human skull to kill. The speaker held up a hand and the glass stopped in mid-air, then dropped to the surface of the table with nary a chip.
“You were just something I fucked from time to time.”
Chase finally turned his head. A devastatingly beautiful man looked back at him. Inky black curls spilled down his shoulders and back. Sparkling green eyes looked out from under perfectly shaped eyebrows. Cheekbones so sharp you could carve a roast with them drew the eyes down to a shapely, sensual mouth. The smirk that had been toying at the lush lips died with Chase's last comment.
The overall effect was one of perfect, unnatural, unattainable beauty.
“Oh, that doesn't look fake at all.” Chase deadpanned, mimicking Spicer's tone from earlier in the evening.
“And your true form is so pleasant to look at,” the stranger shot back.
“This face was my own, once. Can you say the same, Half-A-Goat?”
The newcomer ignored the barb, turning his attention back to the dance floor.
“And what of your plaything? Is that his true form?”
Triple dog fuck.
This supernatural queen had always looked upon killing humans like most approached getting kinged in checkers; a mild accomplishment good for a moment's entertainment. Chase very much doubted he had changed his ways any time in the last two hundred years.
“He does have this adorable monkey form,” Chase stated, not lying and not telling the truth.
“Ah . . . a Trickster?”
“In every sense of the word.”
“Any fighting skills?”
“Not a one. He's utterly hopeless.”
“Your tastes have changed, Chase Young.”
“This one is special.” Chase blurted suddenly.
Inwardly cursing at the admission, and belatedly wondering if it was true, the ancient warlord narrowed his eyes at the other supernatural being.
“If anything . . . untoward should happen to him, I will be extremely unhappy.”
“Mmm.”
That half-smile was playing about the stranger's lips again.
“Do you hear me, Phooka?”
“Oh yes; you are attached to this one. He is special. A true favorite. Chase Young's own little porcelain doll.”
“That is correct.” Chase growled, subsiding slightly.
“So it might interest you to know he's kissing some blonde out on the dance floor?”
“What?!” Chase's head snapped around sharply, causing his long hair to fan out around his head like a cloud.
“Just thought I'd mention it.” Phooka chuckled.
Chase had been expecting the blonde with the cheekbones, but some small, slight little boy even more lightly built than Jack was leaning into the goth. The little blonde had thrown one arm around the tech wizard's neck. Jack's right hand held the other youth's wrist as if caught in the act of stopping it from grabbing him. But everything appeared to have stopped and the way their heads were angled. . . .
An inhuman snarl tore from Chase's throat as the dragon lord leapt up from his seat.
“It says what?!” Jack cried, craning his neck down to try to look at his own collarbone.
“Your name's 'Property of'!” The blonde giggled, pawing drunkenly at the tag on Spicer's collar.
The smaller youth was so drunk Jack was amazed he could still stand. Jack wanted to get the little leech off of him, but he was fairly certain the other boy toy would smack face first into the floor and be trampled to death.
Jack couldn't stand the sight of blood.
“Can I call you 'Property'?” The blonde asked, tilting his head in a way that someone probably found cute.
“'Property of', huh? Is my last name 'Chase Young'?” Jack asked dryly.
“Yup!”
Jack rolled his eyes. He might have been mad earlier in the evening, but after Chase's sweet nothings, he could treat the prank with bemused exasperation. The blonde leaned heavily on Jack.
“You wanna dance with me?”
“No!” Jack looked around the crowd on the dance floor. “Don't you have a daddy somewhere?”
“Huh-uh. You wanna be my daddy?”
“No!”
“I could do the leather thing,” The smaller youth continued as if he hadn't heard Jack. “Oh, you like to be called 'sir', right? I'll call you 'sir'!”
Jack shoved the blonde unceremoniously backwards. The frail youth crashed into Chase, who appeared on the dance floor as if by magic and possibly had. Chase shoved the young man forward into Jack again.
“Get off of me, you leech!” Spicer howled.
Chase stopped.
Jack was trying to pry the blonde off of himself with marginal success. The tech wizard hadn't wanted the small youth's attentions. The reek of alcohol rising from the other teen made it entirely possible that he had grabbed Jack and kissed him before the goth knew what was happening.
“You don't wanna be my daddy?!” The blonde wailed, tearing pooling in his big blue eyes.
“I've got a daddy and he wouldn't understand! Go bother someone else or - or - or I'll hit you! Geez, you ever think maybe you come on too strong? I - Chase!”
Jack had finally noticed the warlord watching with amused eyes. An embarrassed flush rushed across Spicer's pale cheeks. Chase smirked and stepped in closer to the pale teen.
“Spicer, did this thing kiss you?”
“What?! No, he was just reading my tag.” Jack held out the bit of shiny metal. “'Property of Chase Young'? What do you call that?”
“The truth,” Chase smirked.
“T-This is your boyfriend? He's hooooot,” the blonde drooled, listing towards the ancient warrior. “Hhiiiiiii.”
The third wheel let go of his balance, ready to crash into Chase. Just before their chests met, the blonde suddenly stopped short, squealing in pain.
Jack had a fistful of the other youth's hair.
“Don't you say 'hi' to my Chase in that tone of voice!” Spicer snapped, wrenching the little tart backwards. “Hussy!”
“Owwie!”
“Your Chase?” The dragon lord echoed, delighted with the albino genius's sudden show of jealousy.
“Don't call me a hussy!” The blonde snapped, extracting his hair from Jack's fingers.
“Well what's your name?” Jack asked, standing defensively in front of Chase.
“I don't know. What does my collar say?”
The fight was instantly forgotten, as often happens with one severely drunk participant. Jack checked the other youth's collar.
“It says 'Dry Clean Only'.”
“A splendid name it is, too.” Said a new voice.
Jack felt a hand clamp onto his arm with the sheer mechanical pressure of . . . well, of a clamp. Wincing, he looked around into an impossibly beautiful face.
“And what's your name, little monkey?” The beautiful face purred.
Despite popular conception, Jack was fairly complacent with magical beings. He spent more time with them than he did with regular humans. To the other Heylin, his senses were muffled and weak, but compared to other humans, Jack picked up on subtle magical tells.
Since his experiences with the Shen-Gong-Wu and the Heylin, Jack had taken up self-study of world mythology. He knew the difference between a leprechaun and a cluricaun without having to ask. He could see instantly whether a red-skinned Japanese creature was a tengu or oni, and that the best way to escape from a kappa was to trick it into bowing.
True, none of this had come in handy yet, but you never knew when it might.
Staring up into that unnaturally beautiful face, with those dead green eyes and that faint scent like the bottom of a pond tickling his nostrils, somehow the words 'water goblin' rose to the front of his mind.
Without tearing his eyes from the creature's, Jack reached out one hand towards Chase, opening and closing it convulsively. Chase reached for the grasping hand, but Jack was jerked roughly out of his reach.
“Phooka! Release him at once!” Chase snarled.
Phooka ignored him, leaning in to sniff Spicer in a decidedly inhuman way.
“Phooka?! You're a freaking kelpie?!” Jack squealed in alarm.
Just his frigging luck; one of the most lethal of the water fairies had latched onto him just yards from the ocean. He was so dead.
“You are human.” Phooka stated coldly. “I smell magic on you, but you are a Son of Adam.”
“Uh . . . . yeah?” Jack said weakly. “I never said I wasn't.”
The kelpie's head snapped towards Chase.
“I was just something you fucked, but this gets to be your special favorite?! And you lied to try to hide his humanity from me?!”
“Release Jack at once.” Chase said, his voice dropping to sub-zero temperature. “Or I will end you.”
“You - you human-lover!!”
“Chase!” Jack wailed.
“No, I don't think I will release him, Half-A-Dragon. I think little Not-A-Monkey and I will have a walk on the beach together.” Phooka snarled, jerking Spicer against his chest.
“The beach?! Nooooo! He's gonna eat me! Chase!” Jack screamed, thrashing against his captor.
“Jack!”
The bottom-of-a-pond smell grew incredibly strong for a moment, then the shadows rose up and swallowed Jack Spicer and the kelpie.
Deal with it.
So here's Chapter 2!
Chase's plans for the evening are left in tatters after an old lover of the dragon lord shows up at the club and takes a distinct disliking to Jack.
“Why are you doing this?” Jack asked, wiping tea from his chin.
Chase didn't answer immediately. The wicked lord was too busy chasing a few errant rivulets of tea down Spicer's neck with his tongue.
“Because it pleases me to do so.” The dragon lord retorted.
Jack's two stalkers/admirers were hanging casually nearby, waiting for the beautiful youth to leave his keeper's care. Chase could hardly wait; the blonde looked devious enough to stimulate his intellect, though the dark skinned man might try to take advantage of Jack's light build and physical weakness to try to take the albino teen by force.
It was all Chase could do to keep from rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Come on, Chase.” Jack's voice brought the dragon lord's attention back to the young man in his lap. “The outfit, the dancing, the date . . . you never - I mean - it's just . . .”
“Spicer?” Chase prompted, wishing Jack would just get to the point.
Jack stared down at the drink Chase still held, running his thumb over the warrior's large, strong hand fitfully.
“Are you . . . getting bored with me?” He asked in a tiny voice.
“Bored? What would lead you to believe I have become bored with you?” The warlord demanded.
In truth, the question caught Chase off guard. Why would Spicer think he was getting bored? He had brought the youth half-way around the planet, dressed him up, and shown him to the world. How did any of that equal boredom on Chase's part?
Jack turned his head, not wanting to meet his lover's eyes.
“You are not a geisha, Spicer; look at me.” Chase ordered.
Jack did so, his eyes popping wide open.
“I-i-i-it's j-just - all this effort, for me? Just because you want me to enjoy myself? I-I just don't buy it.”
Chase's golden eyes narrowed. The amber orbs grew hard and flinty. Jack leaned back when he saw this, trying to slide off of the dragon lord's lap, but Chase's arm around his waist held him fast. The teen gave a shocked cry when Chase jerked him forward sharply, leaving him pressed tightly against the ancient warrior's chest.
“You listen to me, Jack Spicer,” Chase snarled in one small ear. “I shall expend whatever efforts I chose on your ungrateful self. You may view this evening as a desperate effort to spice up our love life, but I am finding enjoyment in showing off my beautiful lover and I will continue to do so whenever I see fit!”
“'S-Showing off'?” Jack echoed in surprise.
Chase grinned against Jack's ear, then sharply nipped the youth's neck just behind the curve of his jaw. He was rewarded with a whimpering yelp that only served to agitate the two men waiting for Jack.
“You are so blind sometimes, Jack,” Chase murmured, going from murderous to amused in an instant. “Don't you see how these men look at you? They want you. They want your soft skin and beautiful eyes and talented tongue. They want you naked and panting and begging for them to come inside you. Everyone here wants to fuck you, Spicer.”
Jack's eyes grew wider. He glanced sideways at Chase, a quizzical noise crawling from his throat.
“Oh yes,” Chase purred in confirmation. “But they don't get to, do they? Only I get those things from you, Jack. You are mine.”
The dragon lord crushed his mouth to the goth teen's in a brutal kiss.
“You belong to me, body and soul. I do not share and I do not give my possessions away. However,” Chase paused to pepper Jack's face with light, tender kisses. “I do enjoy flaunting my treasures before those who covet them.”
“'Treasures'?” Jack parroted again.
“Oh yes,” Chase moaned.
Jack shuddered with delight.
“My little alabaster doll set with eyes of ruby and hair of garnet.”
Chase tipped the nearly empty glass so the chilled bottom came into contact with Spicer's bare stomach. The teenager arched and keened, then repeated his actions when the ancient warlord sucked one ivory earlobe into his mouth and lightly nibbled.
More than just Jack's two stalkers were staring outright. A small crowd had gathered to watch the goth boy toy and his Asian daddy make out. Chase grinned at the onlookers, then shoved Jack off of his lap.
Spicer yelped as he was ejected from his perch, staggering for a few steps before he got his feet under him. For some reason, he felt lightheaded. Jack turned and looked back at Chase.
The dragon lord was reclining in his hard plastic seat as regally as any king on a throne. He threw Jack a smile full of dark, evil delights.
“Now get back out on that dance floor. Make someone go home and commit suicide because they'll never have anything as fine as you.”
Jack nodded woodenly, his head still swimming. The youth walked stiffly towards the dance floor. Chase's words and the meaning behind them swirled about in his head and Jack took no notice of anything else while he tried to sort them.
Jack was Chase's toy.
Jokes about boy toys and playthings aside, that what Jack Spicer was to Chase Young: a sexual toy.
See the new Jack Spicer doll!
A fetishist's dream! Get yourself some sexy goth action today!
Two tight openings for hours of naughty fun! No inflation or batteries required!
Jack knew this. He was cool with it.
He knew from the day - Geez, had it really only been six months ago? - when Jack had gone to Chase's lair for his daily 'beg-for-attention-and-approval' session. As usual, Chase had refused and insulted him until Spicer was on the brink of tears. Jack blubbered out the offer of everything he could think of to try to sway the evil lord and in his desperate state, blurted out the magic phrase:
“What you do want?! My body?! It's yours! Chase, please!”
Jack had instantly slapped his hand over his mouth. Chase was sure to kill him now; he was the mighty Chase Young. He could have anyone or anything he desired. There was no reason he would want a scrawny white weirdo. He would probably be disgusted by the thought that Jack wanted him that way.
But Chase hadn't killed him. The dragon lord had merely raised an eyebrow and smiled that smug, sexy smile of his.
“Really, Spicer?”
In short order Jack had been on his hands and knees, giving up his virginity to his idol. Right there in the throne room. With the help of a little olive oil that Chase hastily retrieved from the kitchen. That had been a great day.
Since then, Chase's treatment of him had softened considerably. Young still treated him with detachment when they met at Showdowns, or any other business-related evil gathering, but alone Jack was treated with something akin to tenderness.
Chase was still brutally honest with Jack in reference to his fighting skills, but instead of telling him he was a weak and pathetic worm, he'd say something along the lines of:
'You're not a warrior, Jack. Fight with your brain instead of your body.'
And now he was taking Jack out and dressing him up and going on about treasure and alabaster statues . . . it just didn't add up. The tech wizard knew better than anybody how Chase could blow hot and then cold, but his treatment of Jack before they became lovers had been nothing short of vindictive. And suddenly he was the evil warlord's treasure?
An epiphany went off in Spicer's mind with all the subtlety of a chainsaw.
If you met someone you had the hots for, someone who even professed to idolize you and worship the ground you walked on and then you made a move on that person and got rejected, that would hurt.
Like, a lot.
Instead of suffering in silence, you might even try to drive that person away by being cruel or showing them your monstrous true form or throwing them to a dinosaur.
And then, if that person made a pass at you, you'd be beside yourself with joy. In between bouts of fucking like rabbits, you'd pamper and spoil that person and might even get around to taking them out, dressing them up and showing them off.
And if all those things were true . . .
. . . then Jack was more than just an easy lay.
Chase Young cared about him?
Maybe they were true lovers and not just owner and fuck toy?
Jack's heart swelled.
Well, his lover wanted him to get out there and shake his moneymaker on the dance floor, and if that's what his lover wanted, then that's what his lover got!
“Chase Young is my lover!!” Jack howled to the world in general. “I am an alabaster god!!”
With that he flung himself back into the dancing throng.
Chase wondered what was going through the tech wizard's head as he stood motionless by the dance floor. For a moment, he thought that the Long Island Iced Teas he'd been pouring down the teenager's throat were too strong for him to handle, but Jack straightened and howled out his declaration of love to the club before leaping back into the crush.
Chase chuckled to himself. Silly little mortal boy . . .
Raising the chilled glass to his lips, Chase sipped at the last of the drink. Jack's two stalkers drifted back onto the dance floor, as well as a few who had been attracted by Jack and Chase's actions at the table. What a wonderful night this was shaping up to be.
“Such games you play, Half-A-Dragon.” A smooth voice observed.
Chase gave no outward sign that he had heard the comment. In the privacy of his own mind, the dragon lord said a very bad word. If there was any luck to be had, the speaker hadn't seen Jack frolicking in Chase's lap-
“And such pretty toys you find.”
Double fuck.
“I wonder . . . might you have a toy I can play with?”
Chase lowered the glass casually.
“If you should wonder anything, it's how you would be so stupid as to forget that I don't share my lovers.”
“You never minded when I spread my charms around.”
The speaker was in the seat Jack had tried to take. Chase still refused to look around; whatever form the speaker was wearing, it wouldn't be his own.
“You were never my lover, fool.”
Suddenly incensed by the presumption, Chase flicked the glass towards his unwelcome company. If it had connected, it would have driven shards of glass deep enough into a human skull to kill. The speaker held up a hand and the glass stopped in mid-air, then dropped to the surface of the table with nary a chip.
“You were just something I fucked from time to time.”
Chase finally turned his head. A devastatingly beautiful man looked back at him. Inky black curls spilled down his shoulders and back. Sparkling green eyes looked out from under perfectly shaped eyebrows. Cheekbones so sharp you could carve a roast with them drew the eyes down to a shapely, sensual mouth. The smirk that had been toying at the lush lips died with Chase's last comment.
The overall effect was one of perfect, unnatural, unattainable beauty.
“Oh, that doesn't look fake at all.” Chase deadpanned, mimicking Spicer's tone from earlier in the evening.
“And your true form is so pleasant to look at,” the stranger shot back.
“This face was my own, once. Can you say the same, Half-A-Goat?”
The newcomer ignored the barb, turning his attention back to the dance floor.
“And what of your plaything? Is that his true form?”
Triple dog fuck.
This supernatural queen had always looked upon killing humans like most approached getting kinged in checkers; a mild accomplishment good for a moment's entertainment. Chase very much doubted he had changed his ways any time in the last two hundred years.
“He does have this adorable monkey form,” Chase stated, not lying and not telling the truth.
“Ah . . . a Trickster?”
“In every sense of the word.”
“Any fighting skills?”
“Not a one. He's utterly hopeless.”
“Your tastes have changed, Chase Young.”
“This one is special.” Chase blurted suddenly.
Inwardly cursing at the admission, and belatedly wondering if it was true, the ancient warlord narrowed his eyes at the other supernatural being.
“If anything . . . untoward should happen to him, I will be extremely unhappy.”
“Mmm.”
That half-smile was playing about the stranger's lips again.
“Do you hear me, Phooka?”
“Oh yes; you are attached to this one. He is special. A true favorite. Chase Young's own little porcelain doll.”
“That is correct.” Chase growled, subsiding slightly.
“So it might interest you to know he's kissing some blonde out on the dance floor?”
“What?!” Chase's head snapped around sharply, causing his long hair to fan out around his head like a cloud.
“Just thought I'd mention it.” Phooka chuckled.
Chase had been expecting the blonde with the cheekbones, but some small, slight little boy even more lightly built than Jack was leaning into the goth. The little blonde had thrown one arm around the tech wizard's neck. Jack's right hand held the other youth's wrist as if caught in the act of stopping it from grabbing him. But everything appeared to have stopped and the way their heads were angled. . . .
An inhuman snarl tore from Chase's throat as the dragon lord leapt up from his seat.
“It says what?!” Jack cried, craning his neck down to try to look at his own collarbone.
“Your name's 'Property of'!” The blonde giggled, pawing drunkenly at the tag on Spicer's collar.
The smaller youth was so drunk Jack was amazed he could still stand. Jack wanted to get the little leech off of him, but he was fairly certain the other boy toy would smack face first into the floor and be trampled to death.
Jack couldn't stand the sight of blood.
“Can I call you 'Property'?” The blonde asked, tilting his head in a way that someone probably found cute.
“'Property of', huh? Is my last name 'Chase Young'?” Jack asked dryly.
“Yup!”
Jack rolled his eyes. He might have been mad earlier in the evening, but after Chase's sweet nothings, he could treat the prank with bemused exasperation. The blonde leaned heavily on Jack.
“You wanna dance with me?”
“No!” Jack looked around the crowd on the dance floor. “Don't you have a daddy somewhere?”
“Huh-uh. You wanna be my daddy?”
“No!”
“I could do the leather thing,” The smaller youth continued as if he hadn't heard Jack. “Oh, you like to be called 'sir', right? I'll call you 'sir'!”
Jack shoved the blonde unceremoniously backwards. The frail youth crashed into Chase, who appeared on the dance floor as if by magic and possibly had. Chase shoved the young man forward into Jack again.
“Get off of me, you leech!” Spicer howled.
Chase stopped.
Jack was trying to pry the blonde off of himself with marginal success. The tech wizard hadn't wanted the small youth's attentions. The reek of alcohol rising from the other teen made it entirely possible that he had grabbed Jack and kissed him before the goth knew what was happening.
“You don't wanna be my daddy?!” The blonde wailed, tearing pooling in his big blue eyes.
“I've got a daddy and he wouldn't understand! Go bother someone else or - or - or I'll hit you! Geez, you ever think maybe you come on too strong? I - Chase!”
Jack had finally noticed the warlord watching with amused eyes. An embarrassed flush rushed across Spicer's pale cheeks. Chase smirked and stepped in closer to the pale teen.
“Spicer, did this thing kiss you?”
“What?! No, he was just reading my tag.” Jack held out the bit of shiny metal. “'Property of Chase Young'? What do you call that?”
“The truth,” Chase smirked.
“T-This is your boyfriend? He's hooooot,” the blonde drooled, listing towards the ancient warrior. “Hhiiiiiii.”
The third wheel let go of his balance, ready to crash into Chase. Just before their chests met, the blonde suddenly stopped short, squealing in pain.
Jack had a fistful of the other youth's hair.
“Don't you say 'hi' to my Chase in that tone of voice!” Spicer snapped, wrenching the little tart backwards. “Hussy!”
“Owwie!”
“Your Chase?” The dragon lord echoed, delighted with the albino genius's sudden show of jealousy.
“Don't call me a hussy!” The blonde snapped, extracting his hair from Jack's fingers.
“Well what's your name?” Jack asked, standing defensively in front of Chase.
“I don't know. What does my collar say?”
The fight was instantly forgotten, as often happens with one severely drunk participant. Jack checked the other youth's collar.
“It says 'Dry Clean Only'.”
“A splendid name it is, too.” Said a new voice.
Jack felt a hand clamp onto his arm with the sheer mechanical pressure of . . . well, of a clamp. Wincing, he looked around into an impossibly beautiful face.
“And what's your name, little monkey?” The beautiful face purred.
Despite popular conception, Jack was fairly complacent with magical beings. He spent more time with them than he did with regular humans. To the other Heylin, his senses were muffled and weak, but compared to other humans, Jack picked up on subtle magical tells.
Since his experiences with the Shen-Gong-Wu and the Heylin, Jack had taken up self-study of world mythology. He knew the difference between a leprechaun and a cluricaun without having to ask. He could see instantly whether a red-skinned Japanese creature was a tengu or oni, and that the best way to escape from a kappa was to trick it into bowing.
True, none of this had come in handy yet, but you never knew when it might.
Staring up into that unnaturally beautiful face, with those dead green eyes and that faint scent like the bottom of a pond tickling his nostrils, somehow the words 'water goblin' rose to the front of his mind.
Without tearing his eyes from the creature's, Jack reached out one hand towards Chase, opening and closing it convulsively. Chase reached for the grasping hand, but Jack was jerked roughly out of his reach.
“Phooka! Release him at once!” Chase snarled.
Phooka ignored him, leaning in to sniff Spicer in a decidedly inhuman way.
“Phooka?! You're a freaking kelpie?!” Jack squealed in alarm.
Just his frigging luck; one of the most lethal of the water fairies had latched onto him just yards from the ocean. He was so dead.
“You are human.” Phooka stated coldly. “I smell magic on you, but you are a Son of Adam.”
“Uh . . . . yeah?” Jack said weakly. “I never said I wasn't.”
The kelpie's head snapped towards Chase.
“I was just something you fucked, but this gets to be your special favorite?! And you lied to try to hide his humanity from me?!”
“Release Jack at once.” Chase said, his voice dropping to sub-zero temperature. “Or I will end you.”
“You - you human-lover!!”
“Chase!” Jack wailed.
“No, I don't think I will release him, Half-A-Dragon. I think little Not-A-Monkey and I will have a walk on the beach together.” Phooka snarled, jerking Spicer against his chest.
“The beach?! Nooooo! He's gonna eat me! Chase!” Jack screamed, thrashing against his captor.
“Jack!”
The bottom-of-a-pond smell grew incredibly strong for a moment, then the shadows rose up and swallowed Jack Spicer and the kelpie.