When Lesley Fell for Christien CH2
When Lesley Fell for Christien CH2
Lesley, mercifully, had not joined the evening meal. Although there was plenty of talk of the minotaur, collapsed stable, and Christien's feat of strength, no one mentioned the First Chair and his part in the matter following it. Christien was relieved, if not grateful.
Christien was also still angry, but had managed it down to a dark brooding and was civil enough for conversation. Far away from Lesley's maddening scent, Christien was able to find his control again. The dinner was informal, and he was able to sit comfortably among his Enforcers, fielding questions between Councilors and children.
White Towers did actually seem filled to the brim with children, something Christien had failed to notice while fighting with paperwork in his office long hours. Although many of the Councilor seats were empty, the ones that did fill it seemed to be quite intent on breeding.
It was a relief to have some laughter and ease of conversation with the kids when their parents seemed rather dull, for the most part. There were some conversationalist, but polite and small talk mostly. So once everyone was done asking him about his new job as Magistrate and the events of the stable, Christien asked parents about their children, which always seemed the easiest way to animate adults.
Apparently the school year had started, and besides a few fair toddlers they were all off to wizarding school. Strange to Christien, who had been brought up between three Clans, all of whom taught their children magic as a community. But times were changing... Even Clan born sent their children to wizard school now, hoping to fit in with the crowd. The less people knew of the fae, the less they were harassed.
The White Tower children were special in the sense that they could join their parents for dinner and stay the evening and weekends, while everyone else at their boarding schools had to stay the school year. Which explained why Christien had not run into the rambunctious creatures during the day.
The meal brought Christien's thoughts to his own home and parents. Even as an only child, he had never wanted for companionship because of the Clans. Everyone was family, and they usually ate communally out around the bonfire at night, talking low voices late into the dark.
Having three Clans had given Christien an abundance of family, and with it influence. His Clans were powerful and respected, as was he. And all who thought kindly of his people thought the same of him. Unlike here, among these dusty people that thought only of themselves and their standings and looked down at him as if some backwards animal living in the woods.
Lesley's words rang in his ears as he thought back to the afternoon. If White Towers was such a huge change to Christien, what was it to Lesley grown among the old ways when Clans were still strong? Lesley had been there to watch White Towers decay long years. It must have been difficult as each year brought more dust and less fire.
“But he promised. He promised a whole week ago, and hasn't been by once!” Christien glanced to the side where Ged was nodding sympathetically to a small spitfire of dark hair and blue eyes.
“The First Chair is a very busy man. I'm sure he'll be ready to play in a few days or so, when things settle down.” Christien frowned, his mood souring as he realized he was probably the reason Lesley had broken a promise to the children. He glanced around at his Enforcers, all of them done eating and waiting respectfully for him to dismiss them. He rolled his eyes, displeased that his people did not know when it was their own time to relax... But that was Clan too, and his Enforcers were raised to be more companions than subordinates.
Christien set his glass down, eying his stiff Councilor peers. They weren't all bad, just very different from what he had grown up with. He would have to make an effort. “There is a pit on the north side grounds. How about we take the children out and roast some fruit, maybe marshmallows if the kitchen has any?”
Rowland looked up from his place at the head of the table, his wife Celeste kind and smiling beside him. They had no children, but ran the place still. Odd again to Christien, but then, some couples didn't have the same options. “I think that could be fun for everyone, right Rowland?” Celeste said, eyes sparkling at the thought of a bonfire.
“Why not? As long as things are quiet early enough.”
Christien nodded and stood, his Enforcers quickly rising and flanking him. He rolled his eyes again, certain he was going to have to talk with them about the ridiculous manner. He stopped in the hallway, giving Ged a meaningful look. “Set it all up. I have something to do, and I'll be out shortly.”
If the other occupants understood it was Clan tradition beyond the Enforcers, Christien didn't know, but he did know someone that would appreciate it. Angry as Lesley was probably still.
Christien had spent what felt like a lifetime battling his inner beast when it came to Lesley, and he had helped his own peers to deal with their own blood lust when warring and at peace. He regarded Lesley no different in that regard, and isolation and ostracizing would only make things awkward in the future.
What Lesley felt for Christien, beyond a simple lust at seeing his power, did not matter. The First Chair was extremely powerful, and even if he had reacted to Christien, it could not have been as an equal. Not a true mate. But Christien did not want to think of that, and the pain that returned with it.
Christien found Lesley, grumbling quietly in a corridor by the south wing, pacing the length back and forth. He turned at Christien's arrival, and for the first time Christien wondered if Lesley could smell his presence the same way Christien could his.
The gold glare was definitely cooler now that Lesley had time alone, although Christien could still see the hunger, barely veiled.
“I'm having a fire outside.”
Lesley narrowed his eyes, but didn't speak. He had changed, no blood or wounds remaining of the incident earlier. Except anger, and a bit of hurt pride.
“The children will be there, and the men. Some parents... some food, which you could use.” Christien held his hand out, beckoning.
Lesley gave a small huff. Carefully he combed his hand through his hair, trying to straighten out his appearance.
Christien was a confusing sort. Never heeding Lesley's anger, never afraid of what he was. Probably just stupidity, like most humans. The man was certainly stupid, not knowing a damn thing about what he wanted or how to get it. Chasing Lesley since a mere sprout and once he had an actual chance, hesitating.
Lesley hated uncertainty, especially in a mate. Just a waste of energy and time.
But the stupid man was still standing there, hand held out like a fool. Lesley kept his growl in check, and stepped forward. “I'm not hungry.”
“Then come for some company. If the men treat you the way they do me, you must be extremely lost without them dogging your every move.” Christien said lightly, trying to ignore the new scent to Lesley that was still quite clearly full of interest towards Christien.
Lesley raised a brow at that, smirking slightly. “Pain in the ass, isn't it? Your group never did that, but then, things were different back then...”
Christien nodded, walking them slowly down the hall. “They're insecure. Trying just a little too hard to show loyalty. I'm sure they'll grow out of it once they get some blood spilled.”
Lesley stared at him, jaw squaring. “Change the topic.”
Christien felt that was reasonable, given the intense heat suddenly radiating off of Lesley at the mention of blood. “Do you know if we have marshmallows? I know its very human, but also fun. The little swarm of young ones around here would likely enjoy it.”
“...They do swarm.” Lesley paused and called a house elf, instructing some proper food to be brought outside. The two of them were both relieved once getting to the outer door, and outside, the night air doing much to thin the crazed energy between them.
The fire was tall and roaring already, charmed to change colors for the laughing kids. Christien stood next to Ged, watching with fair interest as Lesley was actually swarmed by the excitable children. They had a ball with them and were demanding Lesley play. His murderous mood must have passed, because Lesley nodded agreeably, even smiling a bit as he kicked to them in the twilight.
Which reminded Christien. He turned to Ged questioningly. “How much has he been slipping?”
“A lot.” Ged crossed his arms, leaning up against the low wall dividing the pit from the rest of the grounds. “I'd like to say that this was the first time he's gotten that look, but its been rampant. He's been agitated, doesn't seem to sleep at all anymore, never mind eat. Seemed to start about... oh... two to three years ago. We do our best with him, but sometimes he's just too far gone and we have to abandon him to the mood until it passes.”
Ged gave Christien a meaningful look. “You're the first one I've seen to shut him down. I know he can't by spell harm the Councilors, but they still can't calm him. A few try, but less and less. And well, I keep the men from him when like that. Even if intended or not, he could kill them too easily to risk them.”
“Has he? Harmed the men?” Christien asked, suddenly seeing things in a very different light. The clinging from his new group wasn't insecurity about proving themselves to Christien, it was fear of an irrational Lesley.
“...There was an incident a year back. Thankfully it was Haille. He's been Clan since birth, so he knew how to handle himself. Still, Haille nearly died. That was it for me. Took the men off his hands, started monitoring his eating patterns. Believe me, it was a relief when they told me you were coming back. I'd take the Savage over a rabid fae, any day.”
It was not reassuring. Three years Lesley was falling apart? No wonder Rowland seemed calm and secure; Lesley wasn't a formidable foe without his wits. The Enforcers had not advanced, Finch and Creo showing potential for the Elites, but not being trained... and their numbers were surprisingly low...
“Tell me when he's not eating. This can't continue.” It was a lot to think about, and Christien stepped away, walking the edge of the grounds as the night settled fully.
The kids were growing tired, their running replaced by sitting in front of the colorful glow and toasting marshmallows. Christien could hear the low lull as their parents chatted softly, along with the Enforcers. It was amazing how transformative a simple fire could be. Even Lesley seemed calmer as he pulled tinfoil wrapped fruit out from under the ashes, blowing on them before handing them to the eager kids.
This place still had potential. Whether they understood it or not, these people needed more than just pleasantries and power. They needed a proper home, where people cared about each other. Not the cold, distant atmosphere that had been festering in White Towers.
Christien returned to the fire, taking an offered peach when it was handed to him by small fingers. He sat and ate, staring moodily into the flames.
“Mr. Savage... Sir?” Christien looked up, little Mel inching closer. “Can we do this again? The fire and stuff?”
Christien nodded. “Where I'm from, we did this every single night. The adults would cook dinner in the hot coals, and we'd all eat together outside. I'd play with all my friends, and when I got older, I started hunting and bringing food home for the dinners.”
The idea of eating dinner outside seemed to amaze the kids, and Christien inwardly sighed. There was something very odd and somewhat sad about these people.
Christien didn't realize he had fallen asleep until the the fire gave a great crack and he started, blinking blearily from where he was perched. He looked around, scowling when once again he found his group of Enforcers surrounding him, half asleep on grass and logs as the fire sank low. The children and Councilors were gone. Although Lesley remained, staring deep into the embers, face illuminated by the now orange glow.
“Do you lot have a wish to sleep under the stars, or are you just guarding me like puppies?” Christien asked, the edge in his voice far from biting.
Haille gave a sleepy groan, rolling from his place on the ground. “Stars. The rest are puppies...”
Finch and Sid, the only two women in the group, agreed that the open sky was well missed. And Creo mentioned something about being homesick and missing the green.
Lesley spoke up, smirking wryly. “Looks like I'm the only puppy here.” Ged and Haille chuckled, because Lesley had certainly been guarding Christien from sticky fingers and stray embers since the Magistrate had fallen asleep.
“Well, that settles it, I guess. We sleep out here tonight.” Christien slid off the log he had been sitting on, resting his back against the hard wood. Crickets sang in the distance, and on the horizon the mountains were a dark wall against the star spotted sky.
Tomorrow they would be feeling more secure, Christien mussed, looking over his Enforcers as they murmured and gazed up at the sky. A little bonding, a show of power with the minotaur... they were falling in line quickly. Not unexpected, seeing as Lesley had trained them... But, there was apparently problems with that, as well.
There was only ten Enforcers now, three of them Elite, but Christien would start recruiting from the Clans and see who he could scare up. Ged was a big help, and from what he had learned of the man and how the other's listened to him, Christien felt it would be best to formally give Ged leadership over the Elite to come.
As for Lesley... Christien met the man's gaze, gold eyes reflecting fire. The mania had settled for now, food finally in his stomach. Christien forced himself to look away, tried not to miss the wildness that had been quite striking and belonging on Lesley's face.
Lesley was Lesley, and would do as he wished when he wished it. Christien had no desire to change that. He just hoped to keep the man in some form of sanity. That was as far as Christien would allow his fae instincts to push.
*****
It was Christien's first official case as Magistrate. Two months of research, detective work and interviewing witnesses. He spent most of his time at the Ministry for it, working with the Aurors that went unobserved through the more human parts of the wizarding world.
The Aurors did not like the Enforcers in the beginning, and as time passed, seemed to like them even less. Christien had heard rumors that the new Magistrate was some sort of wild dog, haunting the Ministry from the shadows with his bloodthirsty pack. It was a good sign that Christien was getting under people's skin and he was glad for it.
It was a simple jump and stun once the paperwork was done, and room made in the Magistrate holding cells. That was another pleasant surprise; Christien got his own cells, under guard at the Ministry. He didn't have to worry about any of his suspects being drained dead in Azkaban while they awaited trial. And he would insure that all of them got a fair trial.
But it was the first case, and Christien felt it would be best for them all to go together for the pick up of Corben Williams. He wanted to see if they could work as a team. Williams was the wizard currently forging and distributing brand name wallets and purses to muggles. Bad enough, except the items were also enchanted to steal whatever was placed in them, including identity fraud and apparently a bunch of small designer dogs.
Petty and stupid, and very dangerous if something went wrong seeing as some of the bags were quite large. Thankfully no news of missing children, but best to deal with it sooner rather than later.
It became Christien's case when they realized sales were going over the Internet, and bags were ending up in other countries as were the stolen identities. Some jobs were on the line of Ministry vs Magistrate, but once the territory got large enough, Christien had to step in because of the greater resources his office provided.
They found Williams in a back alley off Decade Circle, filling a muggle looking van with posh leather bags. Christien stayed back with his group, letting Creo lead the arrest, along with the Auror Frisk, a no nonsense sort that made grown men flinch whenever he talked. Creo had a knack for working with the Aurors, able to be brutal but without full out intimidation of the Ministry people.
It went well enough. The freshly made goods were all accounted for. They found the majority of stolen loot. It would still be weeks before they were certain all the bags were rounded up and destroyed, but now that they had the drop location, it would be much easier to trace the spell back to each purse. Something Christien left for Ged to sort out with the Enforcers, while he booked his first prisoner.
By midnight, the excitement had worn off and Christien was just worn-out. The Ministry had fought him on imprisoning Williams, and then on guarding the man. It had taken hours to get the bastards to relent, but he had won, as Christien knew he would. He had sent the men back to White Towers, and the Aurors he had borrowed back to their homes and families.
Lesley was sitting in a chair outside the arrival chamber when Christien finally dragged himself home, bone weary and ready for bed. Christien almost didn't see him at first, but the scent caught him quick enough, and he paused and turned in the hall.
Lesley was staring quietly, measuring him up as if he didn't quite recognize Christien. It had been long weeks since running into the First Chair, although Ged had informed Christien that he had started eating regularly again.
“Long day, love?” Lesley asked, and Christien was happy to see the man seemed himself again. A bit tired, a bit sad, but not the rage and agitation of before.
“The Ministry tried to pull a power move on me.” Christien waited for Lesley to get up, and they walked together. “They wanted my arrest. Since I had used the Aurors they felt it was fair game. I spent the last couple hours explaining that it wasn't.”
“Hmm, rough. Hope you didn't maim anyone too badly.” Lesley sounded down right cheeky, and Christien couldn't help but smile, as tired as he was.
“Have you eaten?” Lesley asked, looking poised and bored and smelling quite intoxicating.
“...I could eat.” Christien admitted, and they changed direction, heading for the kitchens.
Some ham and cheese later, Christien was trying very hard not to fall asleep at the kitchen table while laughing at Lesley's jokes. The man seemed intent on making Christien happy, and quite loudly, and he was too tired to resist.
“Oh gods... that hurt...” Christien grabbed his gut, his face feeling sore from all his laughter. He slung his arms over the large table and laid his head on an arm, looking at Lesley while he snickered.
“You look like you're ready to sleep.”
“Mmm... In a bit.” Christien yawned deeply. “I'm still hoping for you to tell me why you were waiting for me.”
Lesley shrugged at that, frowning slightly.”Just noticed the men come in... That nursemaid of mine was hours late to see if I'd dined.”
Ged could be a bit overbearing, but Christien figured Lesley deserved a little henpecking. “You seem better for it.”
“I suppose...” Huffing, Lesley leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, head in his hands. He glanced sideways at Christien, lashes lowered. “You do look exhausted. I shouldn't keep you up.”
Yawning again, Christien pushed himself up, and carefully extracted himself off the bench without tripping on his long coat. It was far more difficult than he had expected it to be, his day finally catching up to him. “Night, Les,” Christien murmured, patting Lesley on the shoulder.
It was the wrong move, although Christien had not sensed any tension in Lesley before the touch. Lesley grabbed the hand on his shoulder, standing smoothly and pulling Christien against his chest. Christien blinked tiredly, heat, fog and Lesley's scent encompassing his senses.
“I was thinking. A solution, maybe, to our problem.” Lesley seemed calm enough, his eyes shining with intent, but nothing too dangerous. But it was difficult for Christien to discern fully, drowsy yet alert to the hand moving over his cheek and jaw.
“What would that... be?” His head was feeling heavy, but Lesley's hand was strong, running up the back of his neck, tangling in the curls tied back at his nape.
“When you're tired you don't raise so much energy, Chrissy. It's almost bearable to be around you. I don't have to worry about losing myself... How does that sound?”
Lesley was asking him something, but it was very difficult to focus. “Les... I...” Christien gasped softly, Lesley leaning in to brush lips to his. It was very different from their first kiss, soft and tentative. Christien pressed back, opening up to Lesley's tongue. He wrapped hands around the other's neck, pressing forward while Lesley braced himself on the table.
“See, love... no claws...” Lesley murmured against his mouth, gently nipping Christien's bottom lip. The pain was brief, but it woke something in Christien, his breathing quickening, grip strengthening. He ran strong hands down Lesley's back, running one back up to tangle in the silky locks and pull. Through the haze he heard Lesley groan, the man's lean body arching against him.
He pushed Lesley back, pressing him down onto the table, blue hair haloing around his head as Christien kissed him harder. Heat was radiating off Lesley like a sunny afternoon, and Christien pinched at the buttons on his shirt, revealing smooth warm flesh from neck to naval.
“Chris...” Lesley was panting, gold eyes gleaming in the dim light. Christien kissed him again, then moved to the long neck, nuzzling in the heady scent and flesh. He licked slowly, feeling Lesley shudder at each touch of tongue. Christien slipped his hands through the shirt, rubbing his palms over Lesley's ribcage, pulling quiet, aching gasps from the man.
“Oh hell...” Lesley whispered, closing his eyes as hot rough hands found the small of his back, his hips rising to press against Christien's. Lesley was certain that he was going to smoulder under Christien's hands, the man's fingers questing and touching and driving him dizzy with want.
But Christien's mouth was even hotter, moving down over his collar, slick with saliva and sharp with teeth as the man licked and nipped a mindless trail. And then Christien found his nipple, and Lesley was certain he was going to lose all sense as pleasure burst behind his eyes, and then white heat as teeth sunk in and gently tugged.
Lesley blinked slowly and found his hands, digging claws into Christien's biceps, and he knew he had to stop before he lost himself completely. But Christien was not complaining about the pain, barely seemed aware of it as he ran palms over Lesley's naval and continued to suck at the flesh on his chest.
Then the hands were on Lesley's hips, moving down to cup his ass and pull him into Christien's hips and the hardness waiting there. Beneath his moan Lesley could hear Christien's, low and throaty vibrating into his flesh. Christien's panting mouth opened wide, and with slow intent sunk dull teeth into the junction where Lesley's shoulder met neck, and bit down hard.
Lesley arched off the table, breathlessly crying out from the sensation as delicious pain lanced through him. “Oh fuck... Christien...” He cried out again, Christien biting down inches to the left with even more force than before. “Hell...”
Christien held Lesley's hips still, pressing down into him and slowly rocking. Lesley was mumbling something incoherent, eyes slit open with head thrown back to the side as he gasped for air. Christien crawled up the man's body, pulling Lesley's face to his and kissing him deeply, tongues languidly rubbing together.
“Les... I'm very tired...” Christien said with a soft sigh, even as he rocked his erection against Lesley's.
Lesley was beautiful, taut with pleasure, lips swollen from Christien's kisses and scent dripping in heady sex. It felt very much a hot dream, the haze in Christien's mind growing as Lesley whimpered weakly, brows furrowed as his hips rocked up to meet Christien's.
He nuzzled Lesley's long neck, pressing his body down onto Lesley's and moving slowly together with the other's rhythmic thrusts. “That's nice...” Christien murmured, licking Lesley's neck and running hands against the smooth flesh of his back and sides.
Another whimper, and Christien could feel the claws now, digging through his coat and stabbing points into his back. He groaned at the sensation, then bit down hard on Lesley's shoulder. Lesley thrashed beneath him, chest heaving in short breaths, head lolling blindly.
Christien wanted to laugh at how easy it was to turn Lesley into a writhing, aching mess with just the smallest bit of pain, even at over three hundred years old. But Lesley threw a long leg around Christien's hips, rubbing urgently, and it didn't seem so funny at the moment.
Christien gripped Lesley's hips hard, meeting the desperate thrusts as Lesley cried out again, body arching and grinding hard against him. And then Lesley fell back still, crashing back to the table with a great groan.
Christien continued to run his tongue over the bruise he had bit into Lesley as the beautiful man slowed his racing breathing and began to come back to his senses. “Chrissy...” Lesley said with great difficulty, seeking out Christien's mouth and kissing slowly.
Lesley ran a hand between their bodies, seeking the front of Christien's black leather pants, and fiddling with the fly. Christien moaned approvingly as long fingers slipped by the fabric and wrapped around his cock firmly.
“Oh... fuck...” Christien gasped, Lesley having no difficulty building the right rhythm in his slick grasp, very quickly bringing Christien to the edge.
“Come for me,” Lesley demanded huskily, warm breath washing over Christien's ear, and tongue following down his neck. “Show me how long you've been waiting, Christien... how much you've wanted me...”
Christien's eyes closed, the words too much for him. He had waited far too long, and needed Lesley far too much.
“You're mine, Chrissy... You've always been mine.” Lesley bit sharp, pointed teeth into Christien's collar. Christien howled from the pain, hips surging forward, pumping his release into Lesley's ready hand.
Sleep was very quickly trying to steal him away, but Christien fought it, wanting to feel Lesley beneath him, needing to hear him breath and smell his sex and sweat. He peaked an eye open, finding Lesley with cum covered fingers tasting hesitantly at his seed. And then not so hesitantly, hungrily licking every drop he could find.
“Les?” Christien queried, feeling relief when Lesley's golden gaze finally met his. “Why did you...?” Lesley kissed the question away, and Christien's eyes closed again, lids very heavy.
“I don't know,” Lesley whispered, watching as Christien's breathing evened out. He carefully rolled the man, sitting up and cleaning them both with wandless magic.
Lesley had been curious... And feeling a bit lust crazed, even after getting his wicked mood under control. He had wanted to see Christien again, and once he had, he couldn't stop from touching him. It had been a very long time since Lesley had wanted to touch another.
As a rule, Lesley did not sleep with humans. As a rule, Lesley did not sleep with anyone. Not since sixteen. Not since trying the crazed drink Elatiss and murdering his friend.
Lesley had not remembered the incident so long ago, but he had been told he had repeatedly raped Danies first, before finally killing him.
Lesley shook the thought away, but the self abhorrence would not go, not even when gazing on Christien's sleeping face. This foolish man, making everything so complicated. Making Lesley feel again after so many quiet, numb years. It was beyond cruel.
In that sense, Christien was very much like Lesley's family. For it was viscous and inhumane to bring these intolerable feelings back into his life.
Lesley sighed, getting up and trying to ignore how lithe and warm and delicious he felt after Christien had ran such hands over him. It would not do to taunt this young man... as enjoyable as Christien's reactions would make it. If Lesley had any sense at all, he would be cruel and destructive until Christien finally gave up on him. But Lesley knew he could not bring himself to.
As much as he hated these feelings, to feel was quite addictive. To want this fool and be wanted by him was the most amazing of drugs, and Lesley could not let it go. And that was how he knew he was still fae, for pursuing Christien was the most malicious thing Lesley could do.
*****
Christien did not remember getting back to bed, but he awoke early to find himself there, dawn just rising red. He lay there long moments, smelling Lesley and sex and drifting languid on the edge of sleep. He sat up abruptly, footsteps outside his door, and then a knock.
“What?” He called, patting his curls down which had tangled wildly in sleep.
“Problems.” Christien rolled his eyes at that, Ged succinctly making life difficult.
“Enter, and be a bit more descriptive.” Christien got up, wondering when he had stripped to briefs... Lesley's scent again. He glanced at his biceps, small points of blood drying on his flesh where Lesley's claws had sunk in. He licked his lips, breathing deep. Not a dream then.
“Someone removed our guard from the cells last night.” Ged said, shutting the door behind him and ignoring Christien's state of half dress and red marks around his collar and neck. “Williams nearly killed himself trying to escape. Thankfully he failed in both, but he's being hospitalized.”
“For fuck sake,” Christien muttered, grabbing pants from his bureau and pulling them on. His day would be starting now, whether he liked it or not.
“Round me up some potentials. I won't work with these Ministry drones. We need our own guards, loyal to us.” Christien would personally see to the shit storm that was required to beat the Ministry back into subservience. Obnoxious, arrogant old fucked white-hairs...
“Sir?” Ged interrupted, shifting in his stance as Christien threw a shirt on.
“What?” Christien turned, noting the odd look in Ged's eye. “Well?”
“You're bleeding.” Sure enough, blood was blooming red through the white shirt he had just thrown on, right where Lesley had sank teeth into his collar.
“Crap.” Christien tore the shirt off, balled it up and threw it in the laundry. He clasped his hand to the wound as he looked for a bandage.
“I can heal it,” Ged offered when Christien didn't do it himself.
“No. I don't want it to heal.” That said, he tore a square of fabric, pressed it into the wound, and covered it with tape, licking away the stray blood. And then he sighed, sitting heavily on the bed. “Fucking hell...”
Ged stared at his bowed head long moments. “Does it take the edge off?' He finally asked, indicating the wounds littering Christien's torso.
Christien growled, exasperated. Of course Ged could smell Lesley, he was a damn faerie halfie. Fucking fae and their mating instincts. Having Lesley had calmed the beast normally raging inside, leaving him currently sleepy instead of wild.
“Yes... Too much. I don't know how I'm going to get even remotely angry enough for this Ministry thing.”
Tilting his head, Ged stalked forward and backhanded Christien, sending the man tumbling over the bed and into the stone wall with a dull thud. He waited patiently as Christien slowly unfurled himself, anger and death emanating from his muscular build.
“Put a shirt on, and let's go. You're almost angry enough.”
“You must be out of your fucking mind...” Christien snarled, but made no move to retaliate, instead grabbing a fresh shirt, black this time, and pulling it on.
“Probably. Seven years of this job will do that.” Ged shrugged, rubbing the back of his arm where he had hit Christien. His boss was a damn mountain. “Come on, the men are waiting. No one has slept much, and everyone is antsy after yesterday. I need you wild and in charge, not sweet and lovelorn.”
Christien glared, wondering how the hell Lesley had ever gotten anything done without Ged around. He turned and threw his trunk open, carefully sifting until he found what he was looking for glinting in the dim light.
Christien pulled out the heavy blade, wrapping its scabbard around his hips and securing it tight. It was his grandfather's, from Edward's side. The ferocious dragon on the hilt would do much to shut some Ministry mouths, and if needed, the blade would open some others quite loudly.
Ged smiled at the sight of Christien. The man was a bloodbath waiting to happen. “Alright, Magistrate. Back to work.”
*****
Christien had insisted on a bonfire that night, his men weary from the politics they had been swept up in. The Enforcers were made to battle, not squabble with Ministry officials, and Christien could feel them tire emotionally. He had set them against each other in hand to hand combat, promising to reward the victor with some dragon hide boots.
It had been another long day, but Christien knew it was better to keep his group up and wrestling as the moon moved overhead, then let them try to sleep without alleviating some of the pent up energy.
At Haille's insistence, Christien had joined in. They had all wanted to try and match Christien, which was hilarious to him. They must have felt his rage drop that day, but as Christien and his group had soon learned, even without his rage he still had his power.
They had settled to eat, Ged having dragged something out of the wilds for roasting, when Lesley appeared, looking much himself with a sarcastic grin. “I thought I smelled food. And not just the burning of this one's flesh,” he added pointing to where Haille was feet in the fire as he enjoyed the heat.
Christien was glad to see the men welcome Lesley heartily, whatever wariness they had once had gone. “Magistrate, your pack looks content. Full bellies, tired bodies.”
“Much howling,” Christien agreed, smiling widely. Finch had ended up with the boots, Haille not one for shoes. He offered Lesley some meat, barely tensing when the man sat beside him a little too close. Lesley smelled very pleasant, and Christien breathed deep.
“You missed our new recruits today, Christien. Two young ladies and the last Scion Incubus have agreed to join the ranks of Councilor.”
“Really? Not too dusty, I hope.” Christien had wondered if Clive would join the Council, the young man very studious the last time Christien had visited the Incubi Clans.
Lesley smiled to himself. “They're young, two of them younger than you. Marjory is your age and very much the same as the rest, uptight and traditional. But Helena is a flighty thing and fun. Very powerful. And Clive... well, Clive is a bit troubling. Very withdrawn, very quiet. I think he took the position because he couldn't handle the hustle of his adoptive Clan. But he is well equipped in the wilds, and may be of use training those newbies you have lined up.”
Christien quirked a brow at that. “Have they passed their initial exams then?”
“They have. Some much better than others.”
“Well, its about time... What do you say, men? Some fresh blood?”
“Fresh blood, fresh meat, and a little green around the gills,” Ged shouted cheerfully, throwing a bone into the fire. He was followed by murmurs of agreement. There were too many empty beds in their barracks, not that they slept there as much now that Christien had taken lead. The stars were a far sight prettier than the crumbling ceiling.
“That seems to have settled it,” Christien said lightly, looking straight ahead into the fire as he felt Lesley's gaze move over him. Fingers were suddenly at the collar of his shirt, and he tensed, breathing carefully, as Lesley touched the bite he had left.
“You're different now... calmer,” Lesley observed, lightly brushing the rough scabs.
Christien didn't trust himself to speak, so he remained quiet, letting Lesley trip fingers over another bruise, and another bite.
Lesley was an absolute mystery to him. Detached one moment, intent the next. Clearly upset that Christien was only human, and yet, still showing interest in him. There was no way this powerful fae could want Christien as a mate, but when Christien closed his eyes and let Lesley scent wash over him, he thought maybe... maybe he did.
“I will leave you to your pack and the stars, Magistrate,” Lesley said softly, removing his hand and standing. Christien opened his eyes, bewildered by the loss of contact. Lesley was staring hungrily down at him, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. And then the man turned, and walked away into the darkness.
Focusing, Christien found Haille and Finch staring at him, amusement in their eyes. “...Shut up,” he growled, kicking his feet against the dirt.
“Just glad that didn't get awkward,” Finch said with a shrug, but Haille was laughing outright, his hands now arm deep in fire. “Your expression... Ha!”
Christien smirked, leaning back into the grass and looking up at the dark sky. He fell asleep with smoke burning the back of his throat and the memory of Lesley's fingers on his chest.
ATtD Chapter Index Links
Lesley, mercifully, had not joined the evening meal. Although there was plenty of talk of the minotaur, collapsed stable, and Christien's feat of strength, no one mentioned the First Chair and his part in the matter following it. Christien was relieved, if not grateful.
Christien was also still angry, but had managed it down to a dark brooding and was civil enough for conversation. Far away from Lesley's maddening scent, Christien was able to find his control again. The dinner was informal, and he was able to sit comfortably among his Enforcers, fielding questions between Councilors and children.
White Towers did actually seem filled to the brim with children, something Christien had failed to notice while fighting with paperwork in his office long hours. Although many of the Councilor seats were empty, the ones that did fill it seemed to be quite intent on breeding.
It was a relief to have some laughter and ease of conversation with the kids when their parents seemed rather dull, for the most part. There were some conversationalist, but polite and small talk mostly. So once everyone was done asking him about his new job as Magistrate and the events of the stable, Christien asked parents about their children, which always seemed the easiest way to animate adults.
Apparently the school year had started, and besides a few fair toddlers they were all off to wizarding school. Strange to Christien, who had been brought up between three Clans, all of whom taught their children magic as a community. But times were changing... Even Clan born sent their children to wizard school now, hoping to fit in with the crowd. The less people knew of the fae, the less they were harassed.
The White Tower children were special in the sense that they could join their parents for dinner and stay the evening and weekends, while everyone else at their boarding schools had to stay the school year. Which explained why Christien had not run into the rambunctious creatures during the day.
The meal brought Christien's thoughts to his own home and parents. Even as an only child, he had never wanted for companionship because of the Clans. Everyone was family, and they usually ate communally out around the bonfire at night, talking low voices late into the dark.
Having three Clans had given Christien an abundance of family, and with it influence. His Clans were powerful and respected, as was he. And all who thought kindly of his people thought the same of him. Unlike here, among these dusty people that thought only of themselves and their standings and looked down at him as if some backwards animal living in the woods.
Lesley's words rang in his ears as he thought back to the afternoon. If White Towers was such a huge change to Christien, what was it to Lesley grown among the old ways when Clans were still strong? Lesley had been there to watch White Towers decay long years. It must have been difficult as each year brought more dust and less fire.
“But he promised. He promised a whole week ago, and hasn't been by once!” Christien glanced to the side where Ged was nodding sympathetically to a small spitfire of dark hair and blue eyes.
“The First Chair is a very busy man. I'm sure he'll be ready to play in a few days or so, when things settle down.” Christien frowned, his mood souring as he realized he was probably the reason Lesley had broken a promise to the children. He glanced around at his Enforcers, all of them done eating and waiting respectfully for him to dismiss them. He rolled his eyes, displeased that his people did not know when it was their own time to relax... But that was Clan too, and his Enforcers were raised to be more companions than subordinates.
Christien set his glass down, eying his stiff Councilor peers. They weren't all bad, just very different from what he had grown up with. He would have to make an effort. “There is a pit on the north side grounds. How about we take the children out and roast some fruit, maybe marshmallows if the kitchen has any?”
Rowland looked up from his place at the head of the table, his wife Celeste kind and smiling beside him. They had no children, but ran the place still. Odd again to Christien, but then, some couples didn't have the same options. “I think that could be fun for everyone, right Rowland?” Celeste said, eyes sparkling at the thought of a bonfire.
“Why not? As long as things are quiet early enough.”
Christien nodded and stood, his Enforcers quickly rising and flanking him. He rolled his eyes again, certain he was going to have to talk with them about the ridiculous manner. He stopped in the hallway, giving Ged a meaningful look. “Set it all up. I have something to do, and I'll be out shortly.”
If the other occupants understood it was Clan tradition beyond the Enforcers, Christien didn't know, but he did know someone that would appreciate it. Angry as Lesley was probably still.
Christien had spent what felt like a lifetime battling his inner beast when it came to Lesley, and he had helped his own peers to deal with their own blood lust when warring and at peace. He regarded Lesley no different in that regard, and isolation and ostracizing would only make things awkward in the future.
What Lesley felt for Christien, beyond a simple lust at seeing his power, did not matter. The First Chair was extremely powerful, and even if he had reacted to Christien, it could not have been as an equal. Not a true mate. But Christien did not want to think of that, and the pain that returned with it.
Christien found Lesley, grumbling quietly in a corridor by the south wing, pacing the length back and forth. He turned at Christien's arrival, and for the first time Christien wondered if Lesley could smell his presence the same way Christien could his.
The gold glare was definitely cooler now that Lesley had time alone, although Christien could still see the hunger, barely veiled.
“I'm having a fire outside.”
Lesley narrowed his eyes, but didn't speak. He had changed, no blood or wounds remaining of the incident earlier. Except anger, and a bit of hurt pride.
“The children will be there, and the men. Some parents... some food, which you could use.” Christien held his hand out, beckoning.
Lesley gave a small huff. Carefully he combed his hand through his hair, trying to straighten out his appearance.
Christien was a confusing sort. Never heeding Lesley's anger, never afraid of what he was. Probably just stupidity, like most humans. The man was certainly stupid, not knowing a damn thing about what he wanted or how to get it. Chasing Lesley since a mere sprout and once he had an actual chance, hesitating.
Lesley hated uncertainty, especially in a mate. Just a waste of energy and time.
But the stupid man was still standing there, hand held out like a fool. Lesley kept his growl in check, and stepped forward. “I'm not hungry.”
“Then come for some company. If the men treat you the way they do me, you must be extremely lost without them dogging your every move.” Christien said lightly, trying to ignore the new scent to Lesley that was still quite clearly full of interest towards Christien.
Lesley raised a brow at that, smirking slightly. “Pain in the ass, isn't it? Your group never did that, but then, things were different back then...”
Christien nodded, walking them slowly down the hall. “They're insecure. Trying just a little too hard to show loyalty. I'm sure they'll grow out of it once they get some blood spilled.”
Lesley stared at him, jaw squaring. “Change the topic.”
Christien felt that was reasonable, given the intense heat suddenly radiating off of Lesley at the mention of blood. “Do you know if we have marshmallows? I know its very human, but also fun. The little swarm of young ones around here would likely enjoy it.”
“...They do swarm.” Lesley paused and called a house elf, instructing some proper food to be brought outside. The two of them were both relieved once getting to the outer door, and outside, the night air doing much to thin the crazed energy between them.
The fire was tall and roaring already, charmed to change colors for the laughing kids. Christien stood next to Ged, watching with fair interest as Lesley was actually swarmed by the excitable children. They had a ball with them and were demanding Lesley play. His murderous mood must have passed, because Lesley nodded agreeably, even smiling a bit as he kicked to them in the twilight.
Which reminded Christien. He turned to Ged questioningly. “How much has he been slipping?”
“A lot.” Ged crossed his arms, leaning up against the low wall dividing the pit from the rest of the grounds. “I'd like to say that this was the first time he's gotten that look, but its been rampant. He's been agitated, doesn't seem to sleep at all anymore, never mind eat. Seemed to start about... oh... two to three years ago. We do our best with him, but sometimes he's just too far gone and we have to abandon him to the mood until it passes.”
Ged gave Christien a meaningful look. “You're the first one I've seen to shut him down. I know he can't by spell harm the Councilors, but they still can't calm him. A few try, but less and less. And well, I keep the men from him when like that. Even if intended or not, he could kill them too easily to risk them.”
“Has he? Harmed the men?” Christien asked, suddenly seeing things in a very different light. The clinging from his new group wasn't insecurity about proving themselves to Christien, it was fear of an irrational Lesley.
“...There was an incident a year back. Thankfully it was Haille. He's been Clan since birth, so he knew how to handle himself. Still, Haille nearly died. That was it for me. Took the men off his hands, started monitoring his eating patterns. Believe me, it was a relief when they told me you were coming back. I'd take the Savage over a rabid fae, any day.”
It was not reassuring. Three years Lesley was falling apart? No wonder Rowland seemed calm and secure; Lesley wasn't a formidable foe without his wits. The Enforcers had not advanced, Finch and Creo showing potential for the Elites, but not being trained... and their numbers were surprisingly low...
“Tell me when he's not eating. This can't continue.” It was a lot to think about, and Christien stepped away, walking the edge of the grounds as the night settled fully.
The kids were growing tired, their running replaced by sitting in front of the colorful glow and toasting marshmallows. Christien could hear the low lull as their parents chatted softly, along with the Enforcers. It was amazing how transformative a simple fire could be. Even Lesley seemed calmer as he pulled tinfoil wrapped fruit out from under the ashes, blowing on them before handing them to the eager kids.
This place still had potential. Whether they understood it or not, these people needed more than just pleasantries and power. They needed a proper home, where people cared about each other. Not the cold, distant atmosphere that had been festering in White Towers.
Christien returned to the fire, taking an offered peach when it was handed to him by small fingers. He sat and ate, staring moodily into the flames.
“Mr. Savage... Sir?” Christien looked up, little Mel inching closer. “Can we do this again? The fire and stuff?”
Christien nodded. “Where I'm from, we did this every single night. The adults would cook dinner in the hot coals, and we'd all eat together outside. I'd play with all my friends, and when I got older, I started hunting and bringing food home for the dinners.”
The idea of eating dinner outside seemed to amaze the kids, and Christien inwardly sighed. There was something very odd and somewhat sad about these people.
Christien didn't realize he had fallen asleep until the the fire gave a great crack and he started, blinking blearily from where he was perched. He looked around, scowling when once again he found his group of Enforcers surrounding him, half asleep on grass and logs as the fire sank low. The children and Councilors were gone. Although Lesley remained, staring deep into the embers, face illuminated by the now orange glow.
“Do you lot have a wish to sleep under the stars, or are you just guarding me like puppies?” Christien asked, the edge in his voice far from biting.
Haille gave a sleepy groan, rolling from his place on the ground. “Stars. The rest are puppies...”
Finch and Sid, the only two women in the group, agreed that the open sky was well missed. And Creo mentioned something about being homesick and missing the green.
Lesley spoke up, smirking wryly. “Looks like I'm the only puppy here.” Ged and Haille chuckled, because Lesley had certainly been guarding Christien from sticky fingers and stray embers since the Magistrate had fallen asleep.
“Well, that settles it, I guess. We sleep out here tonight.” Christien slid off the log he had been sitting on, resting his back against the hard wood. Crickets sang in the distance, and on the horizon the mountains were a dark wall against the star spotted sky.
Tomorrow they would be feeling more secure, Christien mussed, looking over his Enforcers as they murmured and gazed up at the sky. A little bonding, a show of power with the minotaur... they were falling in line quickly. Not unexpected, seeing as Lesley had trained them... But, there was apparently problems with that, as well.
There was only ten Enforcers now, three of them Elite, but Christien would start recruiting from the Clans and see who he could scare up. Ged was a big help, and from what he had learned of the man and how the other's listened to him, Christien felt it would be best to formally give Ged leadership over the Elite to come.
As for Lesley... Christien met the man's gaze, gold eyes reflecting fire. The mania had settled for now, food finally in his stomach. Christien forced himself to look away, tried not to miss the wildness that had been quite striking and belonging on Lesley's face.
Lesley was Lesley, and would do as he wished when he wished it. Christien had no desire to change that. He just hoped to keep the man in some form of sanity. That was as far as Christien would allow his fae instincts to push.
*****
It was Christien's first official case as Magistrate. Two months of research, detective work and interviewing witnesses. He spent most of his time at the Ministry for it, working with the Aurors that went unobserved through the more human parts of the wizarding world.
The Aurors did not like the Enforcers in the beginning, and as time passed, seemed to like them even less. Christien had heard rumors that the new Magistrate was some sort of wild dog, haunting the Ministry from the shadows with his bloodthirsty pack. It was a good sign that Christien was getting under people's skin and he was glad for it.
It was a simple jump and stun once the paperwork was done, and room made in the Magistrate holding cells. That was another pleasant surprise; Christien got his own cells, under guard at the Ministry. He didn't have to worry about any of his suspects being drained dead in Azkaban while they awaited trial. And he would insure that all of them got a fair trial.
But it was the first case, and Christien felt it would be best for them all to go together for the pick up of Corben Williams. He wanted to see if they could work as a team. Williams was the wizard currently forging and distributing brand name wallets and purses to muggles. Bad enough, except the items were also enchanted to steal whatever was placed in them, including identity fraud and apparently a bunch of small designer dogs.
Petty and stupid, and very dangerous if something went wrong seeing as some of the bags were quite large. Thankfully no news of missing children, but best to deal with it sooner rather than later.
It became Christien's case when they realized sales were going over the Internet, and bags were ending up in other countries as were the stolen identities. Some jobs were on the line of Ministry vs Magistrate, but once the territory got large enough, Christien had to step in because of the greater resources his office provided.
They found Williams in a back alley off Decade Circle, filling a muggle looking van with posh leather bags. Christien stayed back with his group, letting Creo lead the arrest, along with the Auror Frisk, a no nonsense sort that made grown men flinch whenever he talked. Creo had a knack for working with the Aurors, able to be brutal but without full out intimidation of the Ministry people.
It went well enough. The freshly made goods were all accounted for. They found the majority of stolen loot. It would still be weeks before they were certain all the bags were rounded up and destroyed, but now that they had the drop location, it would be much easier to trace the spell back to each purse. Something Christien left for Ged to sort out with the Enforcers, while he booked his first prisoner.
By midnight, the excitement had worn off and Christien was just worn-out. The Ministry had fought him on imprisoning Williams, and then on guarding the man. It had taken hours to get the bastards to relent, but he had won, as Christien knew he would. He had sent the men back to White Towers, and the Aurors he had borrowed back to their homes and families.
Lesley was sitting in a chair outside the arrival chamber when Christien finally dragged himself home, bone weary and ready for bed. Christien almost didn't see him at first, but the scent caught him quick enough, and he paused and turned in the hall.
Lesley was staring quietly, measuring him up as if he didn't quite recognize Christien. It had been long weeks since running into the First Chair, although Ged had informed Christien that he had started eating regularly again.
“Long day, love?” Lesley asked, and Christien was happy to see the man seemed himself again. A bit tired, a bit sad, but not the rage and agitation of before.
“The Ministry tried to pull a power move on me.” Christien waited for Lesley to get up, and they walked together. “They wanted my arrest. Since I had used the Aurors they felt it was fair game. I spent the last couple hours explaining that it wasn't.”
“Hmm, rough. Hope you didn't maim anyone too badly.” Lesley sounded down right cheeky, and Christien couldn't help but smile, as tired as he was.
“Have you eaten?” Lesley asked, looking poised and bored and smelling quite intoxicating.
“...I could eat.” Christien admitted, and they changed direction, heading for the kitchens.
Some ham and cheese later, Christien was trying very hard not to fall asleep at the kitchen table while laughing at Lesley's jokes. The man seemed intent on making Christien happy, and quite loudly, and he was too tired to resist.
“Oh gods... that hurt...” Christien grabbed his gut, his face feeling sore from all his laughter. He slung his arms over the large table and laid his head on an arm, looking at Lesley while he snickered.
“You look like you're ready to sleep.”
“Mmm... In a bit.” Christien yawned deeply. “I'm still hoping for you to tell me why you were waiting for me.”
Lesley shrugged at that, frowning slightly.”Just noticed the men come in... That nursemaid of mine was hours late to see if I'd dined.”
Ged could be a bit overbearing, but Christien figured Lesley deserved a little henpecking. “You seem better for it.”
“I suppose...” Huffing, Lesley leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, head in his hands. He glanced sideways at Christien, lashes lowered. “You do look exhausted. I shouldn't keep you up.”
Yawning again, Christien pushed himself up, and carefully extracted himself off the bench without tripping on his long coat. It was far more difficult than he had expected it to be, his day finally catching up to him. “Night, Les,” Christien murmured, patting Lesley on the shoulder.
It was the wrong move, although Christien had not sensed any tension in Lesley before the touch. Lesley grabbed the hand on his shoulder, standing smoothly and pulling Christien against his chest. Christien blinked tiredly, heat, fog and Lesley's scent encompassing his senses.
“I was thinking. A solution, maybe, to our problem.” Lesley seemed calm enough, his eyes shining with intent, but nothing too dangerous. But it was difficult for Christien to discern fully, drowsy yet alert to the hand moving over his cheek and jaw.
“What would that... be?” His head was feeling heavy, but Lesley's hand was strong, running up the back of his neck, tangling in the curls tied back at his nape.
“When you're tired you don't raise so much energy, Chrissy. It's almost bearable to be around you. I don't have to worry about losing myself... How does that sound?”
Lesley was asking him something, but it was very difficult to focus. “Les... I...” Christien gasped softly, Lesley leaning in to brush lips to his. It was very different from their first kiss, soft and tentative. Christien pressed back, opening up to Lesley's tongue. He wrapped hands around the other's neck, pressing forward while Lesley braced himself on the table.
“See, love... no claws...” Lesley murmured against his mouth, gently nipping Christien's bottom lip. The pain was brief, but it woke something in Christien, his breathing quickening, grip strengthening. He ran strong hands down Lesley's back, running one back up to tangle in the silky locks and pull. Through the haze he heard Lesley groan, the man's lean body arching against him.
He pushed Lesley back, pressing him down onto the table, blue hair haloing around his head as Christien kissed him harder. Heat was radiating off Lesley like a sunny afternoon, and Christien pinched at the buttons on his shirt, revealing smooth warm flesh from neck to naval.
“Chris...” Lesley was panting, gold eyes gleaming in the dim light. Christien kissed him again, then moved to the long neck, nuzzling in the heady scent and flesh. He licked slowly, feeling Lesley shudder at each touch of tongue. Christien slipped his hands through the shirt, rubbing his palms over Lesley's ribcage, pulling quiet, aching gasps from the man.
“Oh hell...” Lesley whispered, closing his eyes as hot rough hands found the small of his back, his hips rising to press against Christien's. Lesley was certain that he was going to smoulder under Christien's hands, the man's fingers questing and touching and driving him dizzy with want.
But Christien's mouth was even hotter, moving down over his collar, slick with saliva and sharp with teeth as the man licked and nipped a mindless trail. And then Christien found his nipple, and Lesley was certain he was going to lose all sense as pleasure burst behind his eyes, and then white heat as teeth sunk in and gently tugged.
Lesley blinked slowly and found his hands, digging claws into Christien's biceps, and he knew he had to stop before he lost himself completely. But Christien was not complaining about the pain, barely seemed aware of it as he ran palms over Lesley's naval and continued to suck at the flesh on his chest.
Then the hands were on Lesley's hips, moving down to cup his ass and pull him into Christien's hips and the hardness waiting there. Beneath his moan Lesley could hear Christien's, low and throaty vibrating into his flesh. Christien's panting mouth opened wide, and with slow intent sunk dull teeth into the junction where Lesley's shoulder met neck, and bit down hard.
Lesley arched off the table, breathlessly crying out from the sensation as delicious pain lanced through him. “Oh fuck... Christien...” He cried out again, Christien biting down inches to the left with even more force than before. “Hell...”
Christien held Lesley's hips still, pressing down into him and slowly rocking. Lesley was mumbling something incoherent, eyes slit open with head thrown back to the side as he gasped for air. Christien crawled up the man's body, pulling Lesley's face to his and kissing him deeply, tongues languidly rubbing together.
“Les... I'm very tired...” Christien said with a soft sigh, even as he rocked his erection against Lesley's.
Lesley was beautiful, taut with pleasure, lips swollen from Christien's kisses and scent dripping in heady sex. It felt very much a hot dream, the haze in Christien's mind growing as Lesley whimpered weakly, brows furrowed as his hips rocked up to meet Christien's.
He nuzzled Lesley's long neck, pressing his body down onto Lesley's and moving slowly together with the other's rhythmic thrusts. “That's nice...” Christien murmured, licking Lesley's neck and running hands against the smooth flesh of his back and sides.
Another whimper, and Christien could feel the claws now, digging through his coat and stabbing points into his back. He groaned at the sensation, then bit down hard on Lesley's shoulder. Lesley thrashed beneath him, chest heaving in short breaths, head lolling blindly.
Christien wanted to laugh at how easy it was to turn Lesley into a writhing, aching mess with just the smallest bit of pain, even at over three hundred years old. But Lesley threw a long leg around Christien's hips, rubbing urgently, and it didn't seem so funny at the moment.
Christien gripped Lesley's hips hard, meeting the desperate thrusts as Lesley cried out again, body arching and grinding hard against him. And then Lesley fell back still, crashing back to the table with a great groan.
Christien continued to run his tongue over the bruise he had bit into Lesley as the beautiful man slowed his racing breathing and began to come back to his senses. “Chrissy...” Lesley said with great difficulty, seeking out Christien's mouth and kissing slowly.
Lesley ran a hand between their bodies, seeking the front of Christien's black leather pants, and fiddling with the fly. Christien moaned approvingly as long fingers slipped by the fabric and wrapped around his cock firmly.
“Oh... fuck...” Christien gasped, Lesley having no difficulty building the right rhythm in his slick grasp, very quickly bringing Christien to the edge.
“Come for me,” Lesley demanded huskily, warm breath washing over Christien's ear, and tongue following down his neck. “Show me how long you've been waiting, Christien... how much you've wanted me...”
Christien's eyes closed, the words too much for him. He had waited far too long, and needed Lesley far too much.
“You're mine, Chrissy... You've always been mine.” Lesley bit sharp, pointed teeth into Christien's collar. Christien howled from the pain, hips surging forward, pumping his release into Lesley's ready hand.
Sleep was very quickly trying to steal him away, but Christien fought it, wanting to feel Lesley beneath him, needing to hear him breath and smell his sex and sweat. He peaked an eye open, finding Lesley with cum covered fingers tasting hesitantly at his seed. And then not so hesitantly, hungrily licking every drop he could find.
“Les?” Christien queried, feeling relief when Lesley's golden gaze finally met his. “Why did you...?” Lesley kissed the question away, and Christien's eyes closed again, lids very heavy.
“I don't know,” Lesley whispered, watching as Christien's breathing evened out. He carefully rolled the man, sitting up and cleaning them both with wandless magic.
Lesley had been curious... And feeling a bit lust crazed, even after getting his wicked mood under control. He had wanted to see Christien again, and once he had, he couldn't stop from touching him. It had been a very long time since Lesley had wanted to touch another.
As a rule, Lesley did not sleep with humans. As a rule, Lesley did not sleep with anyone. Not since sixteen. Not since trying the crazed drink Elatiss and murdering his friend.
Lesley had not remembered the incident so long ago, but he had been told he had repeatedly raped Danies first, before finally killing him.
Lesley shook the thought away, but the self abhorrence would not go, not even when gazing on Christien's sleeping face. This foolish man, making everything so complicated. Making Lesley feel again after so many quiet, numb years. It was beyond cruel.
In that sense, Christien was very much like Lesley's family. For it was viscous and inhumane to bring these intolerable feelings back into his life.
Lesley sighed, getting up and trying to ignore how lithe and warm and delicious he felt after Christien had ran such hands over him. It would not do to taunt this young man... as enjoyable as Christien's reactions would make it. If Lesley had any sense at all, he would be cruel and destructive until Christien finally gave up on him. But Lesley knew he could not bring himself to.
As much as he hated these feelings, to feel was quite addictive. To want this fool and be wanted by him was the most amazing of drugs, and Lesley could not let it go. And that was how he knew he was still fae, for pursuing Christien was the most malicious thing Lesley could do.
*****
Christien did not remember getting back to bed, but he awoke early to find himself there, dawn just rising red. He lay there long moments, smelling Lesley and sex and drifting languid on the edge of sleep. He sat up abruptly, footsteps outside his door, and then a knock.
“What?” He called, patting his curls down which had tangled wildly in sleep.
“Problems.” Christien rolled his eyes at that, Ged succinctly making life difficult.
“Enter, and be a bit more descriptive.” Christien got up, wondering when he had stripped to briefs... Lesley's scent again. He glanced at his biceps, small points of blood drying on his flesh where Lesley's claws had sunk in. He licked his lips, breathing deep. Not a dream then.
“Someone removed our guard from the cells last night.” Ged said, shutting the door behind him and ignoring Christien's state of half dress and red marks around his collar and neck. “Williams nearly killed himself trying to escape. Thankfully he failed in both, but he's being hospitalized.”
“For fuck sake,” Christien muttered, grabbing pants from his bureau and pulling them on. His day would be starting now, whether he liked it or not.
“Round me up some potentials. I won't work with these Ministry drones. We need our own guards, loyal to us.” Christien would personally see to the shit storm that was required to beat the Ministry back into subservience. Obnoxious, arrogant old fucked white-hairs...
“Sir?” Ged interrupted, shifting in his stance as Christien threw a shirt on.
“What?” Christien turned, noting the odd look in Ged's eye. “Well?”
“You're bleeding.” Sure enough, blood was blooming red through the white shirt he had just thrown on, right where Lesley had sank teeth into his collar.
“Crap.” Christien tore the shirt off, balled it up and threw it in the laundry. He clasped his hand to the wound as he looked for a bandage.
“I can heal it,” Ged offered when Christien didn't do it himself.
“No. I don't want it to heal.” That said, he tore a square of fabric, pressed it into the wound, and covered it with tape, licking away the stray blood. And then he sighed, sitting heavily on the bed. “Fucking hell...”
Ged stared at his bowed head long moments. “Does it take the edge off?' He finally asked, indicating the wounds littering Christien's torso.
Christien growled, exasperated. Of course Ged could smell Lesley, he was a damn faerie halfie. Fucking fae and their mating instincts. Having Lesley had calmed the beast normally raging inside, leaving him currently sleepy instead of wild.
“Yes... Too much. I don't know how I'm going to get even remotely angry enough for this Ministry thing.”
Tilting his head, Ged stalked forward and backhanded Christien, sending the man tumbling over the bed and into the stone wall with a dull thud. He waited patiently as Christien slowly unfurled himself, anger and death emanating from his muscular build.
“Put a shirt on, and let's go. You're almost angry enough.”
“You must be out of your fucking mind...” Christien snarled, but made no move to retaliate, instead grabbing a fresh shirt, black this time, and pulling it on.
“Probably. Seven years of this job will do that.” Ged shrugged, rubbing the back of his arm where he had hit Christien. His boss was a damn mountain. “Come on, the men are waiting. No one has slept much, and everyone is antsy after yesterday. I need you wild and in charge, not sweet and lovelorn.”
Christien glared, wondering how the hell Lesley had ever gotten anything done without Ged around. He turned and threw his trunk open, carefully sifting until he found what he was looking for glinting in the dim light.
Christien pulled out the heavy blade, wrapping its scabbard around his hips and securing it tight. It was his grandfather's, from Edward's side. The ferocious dragon on the hilt would do much to shut some Ministry mouths, and if needed, the blade would open some others quite loudly.
Ged smiled at the sight of Christien. The man was a bloodbath waiting to happen. “Alright, Magistrate. Back to work.”
*****
Christien had insisted on a bonfire that night, his men weary from the politics they had been swept up in. The Enforcers were made to battle, not squabble with Ministry officials, and Christien could feel them tire emotionally. He had set them against each other in hand to hand combat, promising to reward the victor with some dragon hide boots.
It had been another long day, but Christien knew it was better to keep his group up and wrestling as the moon moved overhead, then let them try to sleep without alleviating some of the pent up energy.
At Haille's insistence, Christien had joined in. They had all wanted to try and match Christien, which was hilarious to him. They must have felt his rage drop that day, but as Christien and his group had soon learned, even without his rage he still had his power.
They had settled to eat, Ged having dragged something out of the wilds for roasting, when Lesley appeared, looking much himself with a sarcastic grin. “I thought I smelled food. And not just the burning of this one's flesh,” he added pointing to where Haille was feet in the fire as he enjoyed the heat.
Christien was glad to see the men welcome Lesley heartily, whatever wariness they had once had gone. “Magistrate, your pack looks content. Full bellies, tired bodies.”
“Much howling,” Christien agreed, smiling widely. Finch had ended up with the boots, Haille not one for shoes. He offered Lesley some meat, barely tensing when the man sat beside him a little too close. Lesley smelled very pleasant, and Christien breathed deep.
“You missed our new recruits today, Christien. Two young ladies and the last Scion Incubus have agreed to join the ranks of Councilor.”
“Really? Not too dusty, I hope.” Christien had wondered if Clive would join the Council, the young man very studious the last time Christien had visited the Incubi Clans.
Lesley smiled to himself. “They're young, two of them younger than you. Marjory is your age and very much the same as the rest, uptight and traditional. But Helena is a flighty thing and fun. Very powerful. And Clive... well, Clive is a bit troubling. Very withdrawn, very quiet. I think he took the position because he couldn't handle the hustle of his adoptive Clan. But he is well equipped in the wilds, and may be of use training those newbies you have lined up.”
Christien quirked a brow at that. “Have they passed their initial exams then?”
“They have. Some much better than others.”
“Well, its about time... What do you say, men? Some fresh blood?”
“Fresh blood, fresh meat, and a little green around the gills,” Ged shouted cheerfully, throwing a bone into the fire. He was followed by murmurs of agreement. There were too many empty beds in their barracks, not that they slept there as much now that Christien had taken lead. The stars were a far sight prettier than the crumbling ceiling.
“That seems to have settled it,” Christien said lightly, looking straight ahead into the fire as he felt Lesley's gaze move over him. Fingers were suddenly at the collar of his shirt, and he tensed, breathing carefully, as Lesley touched the bite he had left.
“You're different now... calmer,” Lesley observed, lightly brushing the rough scabs.
Christien didn't trust himself to speak, so he remained quiet, letting Lesley trip fingers over another bruise, and another bite.
Lesley was an absolute mystery to him. Detached one moment, intent the next. Clearly upset that Christien was only human, and yet, still showing interest in him. There was no way this powerful fae could want Christien as a mate, but when Christien closed his eyes and let Lesley scent wash over him, he thought maybe... maybe he did.
“I will leave you to your pack and the stars, Magistrate,” Lesley said softly, removing his hand and standing. Christien opened his eyes, bewildered by the loss of contact. Lesley was staring hungrily down at him, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. And then the man turned, and walked away into the darkness.
Focusing, Christien found Haille and Finch staring at him, amusement in their eyes. “...Shut up,” he growled, kicking his feet against the dirt.
“Just glad that didn't get awkward,” Finch said with a shrug, but Haille was laughing outright, his hands now arm deep in fire. “Your expression... Ha!”
Christien smirked, leaning back into the grass and looking up at the dark sky. He fell asleep with smoke burning the back of his throat and the memory of Lesley's fingers on his chest.
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