When Lesley Fell for Christien CH3
When Lesley Fell for Christien CH3
It was short lived, the strange truce with Lesley.
Christien's new job took much of his energy and time, not to mention getting the new trainees up to Enforcer level, and some of his Enforcers up to Elite. He didn't see Lesley much, which became a relief as the weeks went by. Christien's agitation began to grow every time he caught sight of the First Chair, or scent for that matter.
Christien's energy began to crackle with tension, and his men were not blind to it. If anything, they had noticed the growing change much sooner than Christien had, and the new recruits were wary around him, not sure what to expect. But unlike Lesley, they had no fear of Christien ever crossing the line and hurting them, even when his fae instincts were rearing up and taking him over.
Ged and Clive, the new black haired, black eyed Councilor, convinced Christien to have a hunt that weekend, everyone antsy and bored being locked up in the Ministry for another week.
Christien had initially worried about Clive, the young twenty something Incubus very quiet and too beautiful for Christien to feel safe about the boy being around his barbaric Enforcers for long. Christien had thought the boy delicate with his short, slender form and long silky hair. But Clive was Clan raised, and had a strong power hidden within that came free as he led them through the thick forests of the mountains edging White Towers.
Even thought Clive didn't seem to have much sex lure for an Incubus aura, Christien still had Haille guard him while they were out. There was something very prey like about Clive. Too softly emotional, too sad... maybe even death seeking. It set some of the younger Enforcers off, their fae instincts stronger than their control just yet.
Still, Clive scented prey first and led the way through the trees as they began to run it down.
Deer, three of them, and Christien let the men split into groups to see who would succeed and who wouldn't. Christien took the greenest of the group with him, trying not to cringe every time one stepped too hard, or got in another's way. They would learn eventually, after enough experience.
Ged had the best of them, and Christien heard the death scuffle far to the right and behind. He didn't pay it much heed, one of his new recruits daring to crouch ahead of Christien and try to pounce on the deer that easily dodged the effort. He was unhurt for his efforts, and Christien pulled Lettle up and pushed him along to try again.
Much farther to the left, Christien heard a shout and a swear, and felt a burst of magic. He had strictly forbade magic in the hunt, wanting the men to learn how to push their bodies beyond their perceived limits. He would remind them once done, because Lettle had gotten up the nerve again, along with Grady, and the two were running in a low crouch, muscles tense as they came up on each side of the beast.
Christien was pleased to see them work together to take the deer down, it was nearly efficient. But they fumbled still, and Christien strode up and broke the thing's neck before they tortured it too much. “Well done. I had a feeling this group would do well.”
He heaved the body onto his shoulders, then, looking at the hopeful faces, handed it over to Lettle, who wavered under the weight. “Bring it back to camp, all of you. I need to deal with that other lot.” He quickly moved towards where he had felt the magical attack, hoping there would not be much damage to the surroundings.
Christien found a strange sight through the green indeed, and he stopped, arms on his hips, anger growing.
Clive was crouched over the body of his fallen deer, eyes cautiously watching those around him as Haille wrestled a very red faced Xel to the ground. Kast was unconscious, wand still in hand. The rest of the group was watching, half in a state of bloodlust, the other half laughing.
“Haille,” Christien snapped, waiting for his Elite Enforcer to finish subduing the new recruit and explain what the hell was going on.
“Not a problem... boss...” Haille elbowed Xel hard, and finally the young man hit the ground and stayed down. “Just a little confusion on who was the deer, and who was the Incubus.” He looked up, beaming with sharp teeth. “Other than that, they did damn fine.”
Christien glowered at them all, making sure they understood that what had transpired was not acceptable. “Clive, show these men that you are not a deer.” And Clive did, easily lifting the large dead buck over his shoulder, long antlers brushing the ground as he walked over to Christien.
“It wasn't a problem, Christien. If Haille hadn't dealt with it, I would have,” Clive said in his soft way, no strain in his voice from his burden or the hunt moments ago.
“It is when they can't control themselves. We do not leave this spot until I know exactly what transpired,” Christien said to the group, his aura crackling with restrained anger.
Haille stepped forward, remembering that the Magistrate had not been of the right mood as of late. “Nothing too complicated, Sir. Xel made to grab Clive in a headlock. Kast shot the idiot with magic, only to be knocked out by that lovely buck who smacked him in the head. And then I subdued Xel, while Clive finished the kill. The rest were smart enough to stay out of the way,” Haille added, looking meaningfully at the group that had gone very silent in the face of Christien's energy.
“Clive?”
“Just as he said. I wanted the deer more than retribution. Haille seemed content to assist.”
Christien ground his teeth, and nodded sharply. “Fine. All of you, back to camp. Take those two with you.” He pointed to the two unconscious men, waiting for his order to be observed and then following behind moodily.
Clive was a Councilor, even if very young, and needed to be treated as such. Xel had shown issues of a territorial nature, mostly to do with wizards and Clans, and Christien suspected it was that sort of blood sickness that had motivated the recruit. Ironic, considering Clive's Clan roots, but some hatreds just didn't need much sense. Sense usually just made them fade.
The camp was busy, Ged instructing how to gut and skin the deer before the meat could foul. They all quieted at Christien's approach, and he scowled more to himself, realizing he could not raise his mood as needed. They had done well, and he just felt like raging.
“Ged, Haille and Clive will take over for now. I'm off for a walk. And Ged, deal with those two once they wake,” Christien added with a deep growl, indicating Xel and Kast. He did not linger, having absolute faith that things would be squared away by the time he returned.
He walked the lush woods, following a stream among moss and decaying tree trunks.
The rage had returned unexpectedly. For the most part, Christien had thought things fine. Yes, his power had started crackling, but more from want than anything else. But... It had not helped seeing Lesley a week ago, surrounded by the women of White Towers and basking in their attention.
Christien had thought to join the evening meal, maybe talk to Clive about the upcoming hunt, but Lesley and his flock had been right outside the dinning room door, laughing about something.
It had broken something inside of Christien. What he wasn't quite sure, but it had felt like a painful snapping deep within. And then the rage was on him. Christien had wanted to stalk up and claim Lesley then and there, remind him that Lesley was his.
But Lesley wasn't his. Lesley belonged to no one, and Christien was just a damn fool for being attracted to him all these years.
That Christien felt so blasted explosive and irritable was the worst part. It was almost like Lesley had burrowed under his skin, and whenever Christien thought of him, the itching started and it grew until blood was flowing and skin flayed. Damn bloody annoying. More so the longer apart from the infuriating man.
As much as he dreaded the idea of seeing Lesley again, a part of Christien was certain he would go mad if he didn't soon.
It was dark by the time Christien returned to the camp. The group was boisterous and easy to find. The hunt had been a success in more ways than one, and Christien was glad to see the new men getting along with the rest. Some may still wash out, but Christien imagined he'd have a good thirty Enforcers by the end of winter.
Clive had also gained some respect, and Xel was looking rightfully chagrin. The four successful hunters, as Sid had taken out the deer in Ged's group, were getting a heroes dinner, plus share of conversation. Christien stayed at the edge of the group, not wanting to ruin the revelry with his sour mood.
Ged still found him, and Christien thought maybe the man was a nursemaid.
“That business taken care of?”
“Yes. Kast is fine, not even a headache. I'm under the suspicion that Xel acted more out of bloodlust than malice, but I want to keep an eye on him, just in case. It's not something he'll be able to hide long.”
“And Clive?”
“Fine. Nothing seems to shake him... If he even feels much.” Ged shook his head. “I'm concerned, Christien. You're going wild.”
Christien snorted. “Always been wild. Just calmed down for a short while.”
“It's worse this time.”
“Is it? Feels the same fucking mess to me.”
“It is. You're intolerable to be around and you're isolating. To be completely honest, I'm worried about what it would take to restrain you. Magic just doesn't work properly on you, never did. And no one can physically match you. Well, unless its Lesley, and somehow dragging him in to restrain you would likely make this particular problem worse.”
Christien kicked at the ground, lip curling at the idea of Lesley trying to calm him down. “Ged, you're overreacting. Seriously, over the top.”
Ged stepped up into Christien's face, a good half a head taller than his boss. “What exactly would you do if I were to strike you right now?”
Christien bristled, seeing the challenge in Ged's normally compassionate gaze. Rage began to rise up in him, overwhelming in intensity, and Christien stepped back, teeth grinding.
“Fix this, Christien.”
“Fucking hen pecked...” Growling, Christien turned and took a step towards the woods. “Keep them in line.”
Ged watched the Magistrate stalk out into the night. He felt sorry for any beast around that may run across him. Christien's mood was foul and volatile.
*****
Lesley, of course, seemed perfectly fine once Christien had walked his way back to the castle. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle to his clothes. He was standing outside, next to the pit wall, no fire lit that night with the Enforcers out. Christien did not approach at first, walking the edge of the forest, fuming to himself.
“Are you going to prowl all night?” Lesley called out, looking up at the stars instead of where Christien paced.
Christien glared, continuing his walking. “...Maybe.”
Nodding to himself, Lesley pressed his hands wide and leaned back onto the wall. “I could feel your mood all the way from the castle. Did the hunt go so poorly?”
Christien took a steadying breath, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them still. “No.”
The silence stretched, Lesley waiting patiently while Christien glared at him darkly from the tree line.
“Ged kicked me out.” Christien finally muttered, stomping a root on the ground. “Worried about the men.”
“Ah... The nursemaid strikes again.” Lesley pushed himself off the wall, walking slowly to where Christien was standing against a tree in the shadows. “Although... you do seem a bit stormy.” He ran his gaze over Christien, taking in his tense form and crackling energy.
Lesley was many feet away and Christien made no move to bridge the gap when the man stopped. The moonlight had turned Lesley's blue hair into what looked like ice water, and made his skin glow unnaturally bright. The wind was blowing the wrong way, and Christien frustratingly realized that he could not smell Lesley from where he was.
Lesley admitted a small amount of trepidation when Christien finally slid his way out of the shadows. The man was alight with energy and malice, both of which were quite exciting to Lesley's baser instincts. Christien stalked around him, refusing to get too close, but staring fixedly. And once he had turned and nostrils had flared, Christien stopped while breathing deep.
“You are getting more wolf like everyday. It must be the pack,” Lesley mussed aloud.
“I will get over this, Lez. This... madness. I will beat it.”
Lesley shook his head, laughing harshly. “Christien, I am outside in the cold in the middle of the night because I felt you calling for me. There is no getting over this. And if there is, I hope I do it first.”
Christien tilted his head, trying to understand. “I, uh... I didn't mean to call you. I've just been feeling...” Angry, he wanted to say. But anger didn't quite fit the level of energy that had been taking him the last few days. Hungry, maybe. Hungry for something only Lesley could provide.
That hunger made Christien angry. What he needed to satisfy it made him angry. He didn't want to need anyone at all, certainly not this confusing man that was not available to him.
Lesley sighed, seeming tired, and sat in the grass. “Chrissy, what do you want? Not your blood, not your beast. What do you want?”
That was the damn problem. Christien could not differentiate between those parts of himself. “Lesley, the blood has been talking to me since I was twelve and I first met you. I do not know you without that instinct, and it makes any logical thought of you impossible.”
Lesley stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. “But you fight it. You must have your reasons.”
Christien growled, crouching low in the grass. “I fight it because that is who I am. I fought it in the beginning because you had called me just a boy. And then as I aged I could see very well how unworthy I was for one as powerful as you, and continued to fight it. Even now, with your scent changed, I still fight it.”
“But why? What is the damn point?” Lesley asked, frustrated.
“Because it is there, and that is what I do.” Christien answered sharply. “What would I gain if I caught you? Just a louder irrational call to keep you to me. How things are is difficult enough.”
Lesley sighed heavily, bowing his head forward. “You are a foolish, stubborn creature. All this fighting, and still, here you are. You took a job with me, share a home with me, and whenever the urge arises, you seek my scent.”
Christien closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands with a groan. “Shut up.” It was very true, and Christien did not want to think of it.
“Come to me, you foolish beast. Get over here and be still and respectful.” Lesley ordered, his arm outstretched until Christien grudgingly moved and sat beside him on the lawn.
“Stop that,” Lesley snapped, grabbing Christien's hand which had suddenly pulled his ponytail hard. “Respectful, you little brat.”
“I am not little anymore,” Christien muttered, taking the time to breath Lesley's scent in. It was even better when mixed with the heat of Lesley's skin, and Christien nuzzled close to his throat.
“Be still... you have too much raw energy for me to handle.” Lesley tilted away from the heat fanning over his neck, only to have Christien follow, leaning onto him heavily as he breathed deep.
The admission made Christien think of the night Lesley had sought him out, making sure he was exhausted and near sleep before even touching him. What would it matter if his energy was strong?
“Christien... stop being obstinate,” Lesley grunted, Christien placing even more of his weight on him. Lesley was twitching inside, trying very hard to keep his own energy in check. It was difficult enough without- “Stop!” He tried to pull away, Christien's tongue hot and rough on his throat. But Christen twisted them, pinning him down on the ground heavily.
It was too much, and Lesley dug claws in and lifted Christien, shoving and pushing the man away. Christien landed in a crouch, glowering beneath his mess of curls. Lesley pushed himself up, debating if he should stay or stand as Christien licked his lips and tensed to jump.
Christien did in fact leap, and Lesley quickly soared above, the man missing him and rolling on the ground. Christien stopped his roll, ending on his back and staring up where Lesley floated in the air.
“You fly?” He asked, the red haze pushing back as Christien tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Not much point to my wings otherwise.” Lesley touched back on the ground lightly, standing over Christien's sprawled form. The foolish creature was quite handsome, staring up at him bemusedly in the long grass. It almost made Lesley want to stay.
“Stand up Savage, before I change my mind.”
Not sure what he had won, but certain he had won, Christien swiftly jumped to his feet.
“Take off your coat,” Lesley said, stepping back when Christien tried to get too close. Christien threw the coat on the ground, stepping closer again. “Take off your shirt.” Christien readily complied, pulling off his sweater and tossing it to the ground as well.
Lesley stared openly, admiring Christien's muscular build up close in the chill air. “Now, give me your arm,” he instructed, holding his hand out. Christien did without hesitation, placing his forearm in Lesley's waiting grasp. And then he watched, wondering what Lesley would do.
Lesley had to wonder what Christien would let him do, if he only asked demandingly enough. A nude Magistrate under the moonlight would be a beautiful sight.
“Chrissy, you must come to me before things get so wild. I can be gentle with you then... kind, even. But not when you are brimming like this. It is too much.” Lesley let his claws sharpen and then slashed down Christien's forearm.
Christien hissed and his body shook, but he didn't pull away. Lesley pulled the bleeding arm up to his mouth, licking slowly. “This is all I can think of right now... making you bleed and scream.” He looked up, meeting Christien's glare. “It would be much more fun for me than for you, love.”
Christien growled, and with his free hand grabbed the back of Lesley's neck and kissed him passionately. Surprised, Lesley released Christien's arm, and the man skillfully pinned both of his wrists.
“I am not afraid of you, Lesley. Nothing you can do or say will ever make me fear you.” And then, staring meaningfully, Christien let Lesley go.
Frowning, Lesley raised his hands and deliberately slashed down both of Christien's biceps. Christien grunted from the pain, his glare increasing, but didn't move away.
“Petulant fool...” Lesley hissed, wrapping his hands around Christien's broad shoulders and slowly clawing down the hard muscles of his back. Lesley smiled triumphant, a long groan finally pulled from Christien's lips. It was deep and melodic and he wanted to hear more.
Lesley ran claws up the sides of Christien's waist and chest, digging in to the softer flesh as the man cried out. “Oh, that's it... a little louder, Chrissy...” Lesley bit Christien's shoulder, sinking sharp fangs in and feeling Christien's whole body buck and shudder as he howled from the pain. “Yes, love... Just like that...”
Christien clutched Lesley's back, his knees suddenly weak. What he had thought was a contest to endure pain had turned into a very hazy, delicious ache as Lesley sliced, licked and bit his flesh however he pleased. “Oh fuck...” Lesley's claws again on his sides, scratching deep red lines into him.
“On your knees,” Lesley ordered heatedly, watching Christien sink down slowly, the man's posture wavering as he glared up. Lesley ran long fingers into Christien's curls, pulling the thick hair back to see the blazing brown eyes even clearer. “Christien, you are fucking gorgeous... The things... I wish to do...”
“Do them, Lesley. I won't stop you.” Christien said with a growl, his voice hoarse. In reply, Lesley backhanded him, pain numbing his mouth and cheek. Christien could taste blood, and he ran his tongue over his swollen lip. “...Gonna have to be a bit rougher than that for me to leave.”
Lesley grinned, running his thumb over the cut on Christien's lower lip. “No, this is about the right level for pain. Even my little First Chair spell hasn't kicked in, so I haven't done anything too irreparable.” He ran soft claws under Christien's throat, scratching carefully until the man moaned, thinking about the spell that bound him from hurting the Councilors.
Lesley had used to think of the spell as an annoyance, just a hindrance to keep him from killing the bloody fools that would corrupt the Council. But now, with Christien... Lesley could never truly hurt Christien because of the spell. He would never have to worry about his fae passions tearing this maddening man into long strips. And Christien... well, clearly he could handle a fair level of pain and turn it to pleasure.
“Tell me what I'm going to do with you,” Lesley whispered, tangling both his hands into Christien's hair and pulling his face up.
Christien grinned viciously, panting. “Oh, I have a fair idea.” He ran his palms up the front of Lesley's pants, rubbing the large bulge grown there. Lesley breathed out slowly, and Christien took it as consent, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his fly.
“Fiendish little fool...” Lesley moaned out, Christien's mouth very hot and slick as it engulfed his length. The tongue was eager and lips snug, and Lesley tightened his hold on Christien's hair, forcefully pushing in to the wet heat in heavy, long thrusts. Christien made a coughing sound and grabbed at Lesley's hips, gaining control as he opened his mouth wider.
Hips held still, Lesley shuddered as Christien sucked deep, bobbing in a steady rhythm on his cock. Pulling up to pay special attention to the thick flesh of his head, than sinking down and licking up the smooth bottom of his length. Then repeating, his damn tongue pressing and rubbing everywhere it touched.
Christien suddenly pulled Lesley's arousal down deep and held him there in the impossible tightness of his throat. Lesley watched, transfixed, at Christien's lips stretched wide around him. His lips were flush against the bottom of Lesley's naval as Christien took all of him in, the man's brows furrowed, breath coming out in harsh bursts from his nose.
Lesley felt himself swell, quickly pulling out of the blessed heat to shoot his seed over Christien's cheek and chin. He rubbed his dripping tip against Christien's open mouth, over his swollen lips and rough stubble slick with saliva. The man was delectable.
Christien moaned from the rain of hot fluid, his mouth wide as he gasped for breath. He was achingly hard, his whole body tight and hot. He missed the feel of Lesley on his tongue, and he leaned forward and began licking up the flat naval.
Lesley stopped him, pushing Christien roughly onto his back and abruptly kneeling over the dazed man. His seed had mixed with the blood on Christien's face, and Lesley dipped down to taste. “You luscious beast...” He licked thoroughly, eventually finding Christien's mouth and wrapping their tongues together.
Christien tried to flip them, but Lesley resisted, pulling his mouth away to stare down at Christien's strong features. The man was glaring again, in desperate need of release and ill-tempered about it. Lesley chuckled at the sight, earning him a growl.
“Push your pants down,” Lesley ordered, raising up to his hands and knees above the hot body below and resting his head against Christien's so he could comfortably stare down Christien's muscled form. Christien quickly undid his pants, raising his hips up to push leather and briefs down to his thighs. His erection rose up, dark and red and very thick with need, and Lesley admired it long moments, before turning back up to Christien's waiting face.
“Hand,” Lesley prompted, slowly licking Christien's palm and fingers once he brought it close enough. He trailed hot saliva over Christien's rough skin, meeting the man's hungry gaze. “Now touch yourself. I want to watch you come.”
Christien gave a shaky breath, reaching down between their bodies and wrapping his straining cock in his fist. Lesley followed with his gaze, biting his lip as he watched the delicious sight. “Oh... be slow about it... Yes, like that...” He murmured, Christien grunting softly in reply as he slowly thrust into his hand.
“You're very close.”
“Yes,” Christien agreed tightly, his eyes closing and head falling back. “Very.”
“Very...” Lesley licked down to Christien's collar, scraping teeth on his flesh. “Very much mine.”
“...Yes, Lez... fucking yours, you asshole...”
“Oh Chrissy, cheer up.” Ignoring whatever grumpy reply Christien was about to make, Lesley bit the man's shoulder hard. Christien came with a cry, free hand digging into Lesley's arm. Lesley released his hold, staring down in dismay as he realized he had missed the show.
Christien's cum was already on his stomach, following the flow of strong abs as the man breathed heavily. Shrugging, Lesley shimmied down, lapping at the still warm liquid, listening to Christen rumble about something against his face.
“Lez... enough.” Christien grumbled, pushing the man off his body. Lesley blinked from where he was now on the ground, watching as Christien pulled his pants up and started getting dressed. Christien didn't look his way again, throwing on his sweater and shaking out his long coat.
Lesley got up slowly, head tilted as he tried to understand just where things had gone wrong. He walked over to Christien, peering down into the angry face currently trying to look anywhere but at him. “What? Should I have sucked you off, too? What's wrong?”
Christien scowled, his cheeks turning red. “Go away. I'm tired of you.” He threw his coat on, turning to walk back into the woods.
Lesley held the man's arm tight, and they stood there, neither moving. “I can't fix what you don't explain, Christien.”
Christien shook his head, pulling away from Lesley's grip. Christien might belong to Lesley, but Lesley did not belong to him. “You can't change what you are.” Christien walked off, melting into the trees.
Lesley stared long moments, trying to understand the sorrow in Christien's voice.
What he was... Was it because he was fae? Three hundred and twenty five years old? First Chair? ...A man? What the fuck was it?
“That fucking obnoxious, gorgeous faced fool...” Lesley muttered, straightening out his hair and clothes. The man was going to drive him insane, bloody insane. Fucking mood swings and raw energy and hot, hot mouth of his. Fuck that mouth of his...
Shaking his head, Lesley walked back to White Towers, cursing under his breath.
*****
It took a few weeks, but Lesley had finally had enough of the brooding, pissy Christien avoiding him whenever they crossed paths. Christien's fae rage had gone down again after their encounter, but the man was still quite angry in human proportions, snapping and grumpy whenever the First Chair was mentioned. Lesley sought out Ged, knowing if anyone would have a clue, it would be the nursemaid.
Ged infuriatingly enough, seemed just as confused. Lesley didn't know which was worse, Ged not knowing something, or the clear amusement in his gray eyes as he told him so.
“This is not humorous, Ged. This is far beyond anything I would ever consider funny, you foul faerie. Now tell me what to do!”
Ged bit his lip to keep from laughing. Lesley may have been in ill humors, but he was eating and not manic, so extremely comical for the situation. “Sir, he's a different beast than the rest of us. I don't fully understand why he's resisting your many charms.”
“So help me, Ged, watch your tone.” Lesley snapped. He stood, pacing his office where he had called Ged to meet him. “How is Christien different? What is it about him that makes him so bloody obstinate?”
Ged thought about it, no ready answer on hand. “He fights himself. All the time. Has some bizarre standard he keeps reaching for. It could be a problem if he pushed it on the men, but he doesn't. He has never said a cruel word or even poor look when we succumb to blood or lust instincts. As long as we keep it away from the civilians, anyways.”
Lesley grunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Who are you fucking these days, Ged? I want to give him or her some more free time to keep you out of my bloody hair.”
Ged smiled, not about to give Lesley any information that could be used against him. The First Chair was the most manipulative of Councilors. “Why don't you ask him out on a date? Maybe he needs romance. Gruff as he is, he has a kind spot for all these children running around, and I've never seen him raise a hand to an animal. He's damn gooey inside, under all that power.”
That wasn't a half bad idea. Lesley narrowed his eyes, glaring at the floor while he thought.
“Ged, I'm am beyond the age where I remember how to date. Sure, I could string a million flowery words together, but what the hell does one do?”
Ged shrugged, not a hundred percent sure himself. “Fun, food, and fucking seems to be the theme, that I've seen. And they don't always end up doing the last but still happy, nevertheless.”
“Fun?” What the hell was fun to a thirty year old warrior? Christien was hardly picky when it came to eating... and the fucking was never a problem during the moment... But fun?
“Make him laugh, Lesley. That's what fun is,” Ged said with a sigh. “You have the poorest grasp on emotions sometimes. You need to get the hell out of this castle. Actually, when was the last time you went out?”
“Years ago,” Lesley mussed. “Hand selecting you, if I recall. That Clan of yours was a fair sight after this place.” He shook his head and started pacing again.
“What the hell am I doing to myself? That young thing is a nightmare and I am just not cut out for this sort of emotion. Did you know he started chasing me at twelve? Bloody twelve. He was a hellion then, and nothing has changed.”
“Twelve... are you serious?” Ged stopped smiling, concern darkening his eyes at the revelation. “No wonder he's out of his fucking mind. He's a damn Dane descendant.”
“So?” Lesley stopped pacing, confusion on his face. “Dane's group manipulates genetics for superior offspring. His mother made him into a perfect leader.”
“A leader of a Clan. Christien threw Clan and family away to chase your flighty ass since childhood. Half his life for a man that doesn't even know how to love properly.”
Lesley was well aware that he had no clue how to love. “I tried to push him away. I was indifferent for as long as I could. Until he just had to show me up with that blasted Harvey...” Lesley trailed off, remembering vividly how Christien had subdued his minotaur with pure raw strength. He bit his thumb, looking over as Ged threw his hands up.
“Right, because ignoring him for years will totally make the damn mating call disappear instead of turning it into a bitter siren. People go mad from it, Lesley. His people, Dane's people.” Ged sighed deeply. “He was made strong in all things Clan. His call will be strong. It will never let him rest.”
“Good, let his call keep him long years with me. I have answered him. It should be settled.” Lesley huffed.
“But it is not. So either your answer was wrong, or he cannot see it clear because of how long he has been waiting.”
Ged, who had also started pacing once he had realized just how bad off Christien must have been, held his hand up, an idea coming to mind. “You have to pursue him.”
Lesley shook his head. “The foolish creature has been the aggressor from the start. His kind does the pursuing, not receives it.”
“He has been rejected for long years. What male could continue the hunt after so much unlove?”
Lesley raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes heavily.
He did not know how to pursue. It involved having to acknowledge that he wanted Christien in all ways and to feel that want. Lesley had shut down all emotions hundreds of years ago to protect those around him, and to wholly punish himself for his inexcusable actions. How could he give any proper attention and affection to Christien when he himself was so very broken?
“I do not know what to do, Ged. I cannot give what is so lacking in me.”
“If you care a thing for him, you will grow your heart. The men adore him. He has made strides in finally getting the Council connected with the rest of the world. He has made the Council even warm with his bonfires and big talk. He is a good man, Lesley. A great man. Find some affection in you and share it already.”
Lesley snarled, throwing papers off his desk in frustration. “Blasted faerie, you know my family. I have nothing good in me!”
Ged, raised himself to his full six feet four inches and stalked up to Lesley's angry face. “Lesley Griffith, you cannot fool me. You were born among the maddest, most passionate beings alive. You have a terrible power in your heart. You will wake it, and you will love him, and be done with it.”
Lesley clicked his mouth shut, still glaring. “...I will try.”
Ged relaxed, stepping back and giving Lesley the space he needed. “Good. When you need help you will ask me. I know this is not easy, but by the gods, it is well needed for the both of you.” Ged left then, angry with both his bosses and how stupid the two clearly were.
Lesley went back to pacing, trying to remember back many years ago when he had allowed himself to feel love.
His parents... Lesley had loved them, in the beginning. Before he grew old enough to see how cruel they were to others. Long before they had left out Elatiss and tempted him to drink. But by then, he had realized everyone was cruel and cold, and gave little of warm emotions.
Daines had been different. The Peri Lul prince; his Clan had been powerful, but inside a softness remained.
Powerful, but warm. It had been foreign even then to Lesley. Living among the power hungry at White Towers had not helped in that regard. Lesley felt very much lost trying to stir such warmth inside him. But he would try, for the beautiful fool that was hurting over him.
ATtD Chapter Index Links
It was short lived, the strange truce with Lesley.
Christien's new job took much of his energy and time, not to mention getting the new trainees up to Enforcer level, and some of his Enforcers up to Elite. He didn't see Lesley much, which became a relief as the weeks went by. Christien's agitation began to grow every time he caught sight of the First Chair, or scent for that matter.
Christien's energy began to crackle with tension, and his men were not blind to it. If anything, they had noticed the growing change much sooner than Christien had, and the new recruits were wary around him, not sure what to expect. But unlike Lesley, they had no fear of Christien ever crossing the line and hurting them, even when his fae instincts were rearing up and taking him over.
Ged and Clive, the new black haired, black eyed Councilor, convinced Christien to have a hunt that weekend, everyone antsy and bored being locked up in the Ministry for another week.
Christien had initially worried about Clive, the young twenty something Incubus very quiet and too beautiful for Christien to feel safe about the boy being around his barbaric Enforcers for long. Christien had thought the boy delicate with his short, slender form and long silky hair. But Clive was Clan raised, and had a strong power hidden within that came free as he led them through the thick forests of the mountains edging White Towers.
Even thought Clive didn't seem to have much sex lure for an Incubus aura, Christien still had Haille guard him while they were out. There was something very prey like about Clive. Too softly emotional, too sad... maybe even death seeking. It set some of the younger Enforcers off, their fae instincts stronger than their control just yet.
Still, Clive scented prey first and led the way through the trees as they began to run it down.
Deer, three of them, and Christien let the men split into groups to see who would succeed and who wouldn't. Christien took the greenest of the group with him, trying not to cringe every time one stepped too hard, or got in another's way. They would learn eventually, after enough experience.
Ged had the best of them, and Christien heard the death scuffle far to the right and behind. He didn't pay it much heed, one of his new recruits daring to crouch ahead of Christien and try to pounce on the deer that easily dodged the effort. He was unhurt for his efforts, and Christien pulled Lettle up and pushed him along to try again.
Much farther to the left, Christien heard a shout and a swear, and felt a burst of magic. He had strictly forbade magic in the hunt, wanting the men to learn how to push their bodies beyond their perceived limits. He would remind them once done, because Lettle had gotten up the nerve again, along with Grady, and the two were running in a low crouch, muscles tense as they came up on each side of the beast.
Christien was pleased to see them work together to take the deer down, it was nearly efficient. But they fumbled still, and Christien strode up and broke the thing's neck before they tortured it too much. “Well done. I had a feeling this group would do well.”
He heaved the body onto his shoulders, then, looking at the hopeful faces, handed it over to Lettle, who wavered under the weight. “Bring it back to camp, all of you. I need to deal with that other lot.” He quickly moved towards where he had felt the magical attack, hoping there would not be much damage to the surroundings.
Christien found a strange sight through the green indeed, and he stopped, arms on his hips, anger growing.
Clive was crouched over the body of his fallen deer, eyes cautiously watching those around him as Haille wrestled a very red faced Xel to the ground. Kast was unconscious, wand still in hand. The rest of the group was watching, half in a state of bloodlust, the other half laughing.
“Haille,” Christien snapped, waiting for his Elite Enforcer to finish subduing the new recruit and explain what the hell was going on.
“Not a problem... boss...” Haille elbowed Xel hard, and finally the young man hit the ground and stayed down. “Just a little confusion on who was the deer, and who was the Incubus.” He looked up, beaming with sharp teeth. “Other than that, they did damn fine.”
Christien glowered at them all, making sure they understood that what had transpired was not acceptable. “Clive, show these men that you are not a deer.” And Clive did, easily lifting the large dead buck over his shoulder, long antlers brushing the ground as he walked over to Christien.
“It wasn't a problem, Christien. If Haille hadn't dealt with it, I would have,” Clive said in his soft way, no strain in his voice from his burden or the hunt moments ago.
“It is when they can't control themselves. We do not leave this spot until I know exactly what transpired,” Christien said to the group, his aura crackling with restrained anger.
Haille stepped forward, remembering that the Magistrate had not been of the right mood as of late. “Nothing too complicated, Sir. Xel made to grab Clive in a headlock. Kast shot the idiot with magic, only to be knocked out by that lovely buck who smacked him in the head. And then I subdued Xel, while Clive finished the kill. The rest were smart enough to stay out of the way,” Haille added, looking meaningfully at the group that had gone very silent in the face of Christien's energy.
“Clive?”
“Just as he said. I wanted the deer more than retribution. Haille seemed content to assist.”
Christien ground his teeth, and nodded sharply. “Fine. All of you, back to camp. Take those two with you.” He pointed to the two unconscious men, waiting for his order to be observed and then following behind moodily.
Clive was a Councilor, even if very young, and needed to be treated as such. Xel had shown issues of a territorial nature, mostly to do with wizards and Clans, and Christien suspected it was that sort of blood sickness that had motivated the recruit. Ironic, considering Clive's Clan roots, but some hatreds just didn't need much sense. Sense usually just made them fade.
The camp was busy, Ged instructing how to gut and skin the deer before the meat could foul. They all quieted at Christien's approach, and he scowled more to himself, realizing he could not raise his mood as needed. They had done well, and he just felt like raging.
“Ged, Haille and Clive will take over for now. I'm off for a walk. And Ged, deal with those two once they wake,” Christien added with a deep growl, indicating Xel and Kast. He did not linger, having absolute faith that things would be squared away by the time he returned.
He walked the lush woods, following a stream among moss and decaying tree trunks.
The rage had returned unexpectedly. For the most part, Christien had thought things fine. Yes, his power had started crackling, but more from want than anything else. But... It had not helped seeing Lesley a week ago, surrounded by the women of White Towers and basking in their attention.
Christien had thought to join the evening meal, maybe talk to Clive about the upcoming hunt, but Lesley and his flock had been right outside the dinning room door, laughing about something.
It had broken something inside of Christien. What he wasn't quite sure, but it had felt like a painful snapping deep within. And then the rage was on him. Christien had wanted to stalk up and claim Lesley then and there, remind him that Lesley was his.
But Lesley wasn't his. Lesley belonged to no one, and Christien was just a damn fool for being attracted to him all these years.
That Christien felt so blasted explosive and irritable was the worst part. It was almost like Lesley had burrowed under his skin, and whenever Christien thought of him, the itching started and it grew until blood was flowing and skin flayed. Damn bloody annoying. More so the longer apart from the infuriating man.
As much as he dreaded the idea of seeing Lesley again, a part of Christien was certain he would go mad if he didn't soon.
It was dark by the time Christien returned to the camp. The group was boisterous and easy to find. The hunt had been a success in more ways than one, and Christien was glad to see the new men getting along with the rest. Some may still wash out, but Christien imagined he'd have a good thirty Enforcers by the end of winter.
Clive had also gained some respect, and Xel was looking rightfully chagrin. The four successful hunters, as Sid had taken out the deer in Ged's group, were getting a heroes dinner, plus share of conversation. Christien stayed at the edge of the group, not wanting to ruin the revelry with his sour mood.
Ged still found him, and Christien thought maybe the man was a nursemaid.
“That business taken care of?”
“Yes. Kast is fine, not even a headache. I'm under the suspicion that Xel acted more out of bloodlust than malice, but I want to keep an eye on him, just in case. It's not something he'll be able to hide long.”
“And Clive?”
“Fine. Nothing seems to shake him... If he even feels much.” Ged shook his head. “I'm concerned, Christien. You're going wild.”
Christien snorted. “Always been wild. Just calmed down for a short while.”
“It's worse this time.”
“Is it? Feels the same fucking mess to me.”
“It is. You're intolerable to be around and you're isolating. To be completely honest, I'm worried about what it would take to restrain you. Magic just doesn't work properly on you, never did. And no one can physically match you. Well, unless its Lesley, and somehow dragging him in to restrain you would likely make this particular problem worse.”
Christien kicked at the ground, lip curling at the idea of Lesley trying to calm him down. “Ged, you're overreacting. Seriously, over the top.”
Ged stepped up into Christien's face, a good half a head taller than his boss. “What exactly would you do if I were to strike you right now?”
Christien bristled, seeing the challenge in Ged's normally compassionate gaze. Rage began to rise up in him, overwhelming in intensity, and Christien stepped back, teeth grinding.
“Fix this, Christien.”
“Fucking hen pecked...” Growling, Christien turned and took a step towards the woods. “Keep them in line.”
Ged watched the Magistrate stalk out into the night. He felt sorry for any beast around that may run across him. Christien's mood was foul and volatile.
*****
Lesley, of course, seemed perfectly fine once Christien had walked his way back to the castle. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle to his clothes. He was standing outside, next to the pit wall, no fire lit that night with the Enforcers out. Christien did not approach at first, walking the edge of the forest, fuming to himself.
“Are you going to prowl all night?” Lesley called out, looking up at the stars instead of where Christien paced.
Christien glared, continuing his walking. “...Maybe.”
Nodding to himself, Lesley pressed his hands wide and leaned back onto the wall. “I could feel your mood all the way from the castle. Did the hunt go so poorly?”
Christien took a steadying breath, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them still. “No.”
The silence stretched, Lesley waiting patiently while Christien glared at him darkly from the tree line.
“Ged kicked me out.” Christien finally muttered, stomping a root on the ground. “Worried about the men.”
“Ah... The nursemaid strikes again.” Lesley pushed himself off the wall, walking slowly to where Christien was standing against a tree in the shadows. “Although... you do seem a bit stormy.” He ran his gaze over Christien, taking in his tense form and crackling energy.
Lesley was many feet away and Christien made no move to bridge the gap when the man stopped. The moonlight had turned Lesley's blue hair into what looked like ice water, and made his skin glow unnaturally bright. The wind was blowing the wrong way, and Christien frustratingly realized that he could not smell Lesley from where he was.
Lesley admitted a small amount of trepidation when Christien finally slid his way out of the shadows. The man was alight with energy and malice, both of which were quite exciting to Lesley's baser instincts. Christien stalked around him, refusing to get too close, but staring fixedly. And once he had turned and nostrils had flared, Christien stopped while breathing deep.
“You are getting more wolf like everyday. It must be the pack,” Lesley mussed aloud.
“I will get over this, Lez. This... madness. I will beat it.”
Lesley shook his head, laughing harshly. “Christien, I am outside in the cold in the middle of the night because I felt you calling for me. There is no getting over this. And if there is, I hope I do it first.”
Christien tilted his head, trying to understand. “I, uh... I didn't mean to call you. I've just been feeling...” Angry, he wanted to say. But anger didn't quite fit the level of energy that had been taking him the last few days. Hungry, maybe. Hungry for something only Lesley could provide.
That hunger made Christien angry. What he needed to satisfy it made him angry. He didn't want to need anyone at all, certainly not this confusing man that was not available to him.
Lesley sighed, seeming tired, and sat in the grass. “Chrissy, what do you want? Not your blood, not your beast. What do you want?”
That was the damn problem. Christien could not differentiate between those parts of himself. “Lesley, the blood has been talking to me since I was twelve and I first met you. I do not know you without that instinct, and it makes any logical thought of you impossible.”
Lesley stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. “But you fight it. You must have your reasons.”
Christien growled, crouching low in the grass. “I fight it because that is who I am. I fought it in the beginning because you had called me just a boy. And then as I aged I could see very well how unworthy I was for one as powerful as you, and continued to fight it. Even now, with your scent changed, I still fight it.”
“But why? What is the damn point?” Lesley asked, frustrated.
“Because it is there, and that is what I do.” Christien answered sharply. “What would I gain if I caught you? Just a louder irrational call to keep you to me. How things are is difficult enough.”
Lesley sighed heavily, bowing his head forward. “You are a foolish, stubborn creature. All this fighting, and still, here you are. You took a job with me, share a home with me, and whenever the urge arises, you seek my scent.”
Christien closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands with a groan. “Shut up.” It was very true, and Christien did not want to think of it.
“Come to me, you foolish beast. Get over here and be still and respectful.” Lesley ordered, his arm outstretched until Christien grudgingly moved and sat beside him on the lawn.
“Stop that,” Lesley snapped, grabbing Christien's hand which had suddenly pulled his ponytail hard. “Respectful, you little brat.”
“I am not little anymore,” Christien muttered, taking the time to breath Lesley's scent in. It was even better when mixed with the heat of Lesley's skin, and Christien nuzzled close to his throat.
“Be still... you have too much raw energy for me to handle.” Lesley tilted away from the heat fanning over his neck, only to have Christien follow, leaning onto him heavily as he breathed deep.
The admission made Christien think of the night Lesley had sought him out, making sure he was exhausted and near sleep before even touching him. What would it matter if his energy was strong?
“Christien... stop being obstinate,” Lesley grunted, Christien placing even more of his weight on him. Lesley was twitching inside, trying very hard to keep his own energy in check. It was difficult enough without- “Stop!” He tried to pull away, Christien's tongue hot and rough on his throat. But Christen twisted them, pinning him down on the ground heavily.
It was too much, and Lesley dug claws in and lifted Christien, shoving and pushing the man away. Christien landed in a crouch, glowering beneath his mess of curls. Lesley pushed himself up, debating if he should stay or stand as Christien licked his lips and tensed to jump.
Christien did in fact leap, and Lesley quickly soared above, the man missing him and rolling on the ground. Christien stopped his roll, ending on his back and staring up where Lesley floated in the air.
“You fly?” He asked, the red haze pushing back as Christien tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Not much point to my wings otherwise.” Lesley touched back on the ground lightly, standing over Christien's sprawled form. The foolish creature was quite handsome, staring up at him bemusedly in the long grass. It almost made Lesley want to stay.
“Stand up Savage, before I change my mind.”
Not sure what he had won, but certain he had won, Christien swiftly jumped to his feet.
“Take off your coat,” Lesley said, stepping back when Christien tried to get too close. Christien threw the coat on the ground, stepping closer again. “Take off your shirt.” Christien readily complied, pulling off his sweater and tossing it to the ground as well.
Lesley stared openly, admiring Christien's muscular build up close in the chill air. “Now, give me your arm,” he instructed, holding his hand out. Christien did without hesitation, placing his forearm in Lesley's waiting grasp. And then he watched, wondering what Lesley would do.
Lesley had to wonder what Christien would let him do, if he only asked demandingly enough. A nude Magistrate under the moonlight would be a beautiful sight.
“Chrissy, you must come to me before things get so wild. I can be gentle with you then... kind, even. But not when you are brimming like this. It is too much.” Lesley let his claws sharpen and then slashed down Christien's forearm.
Christien hissed and his body shook, but he didn't pull away. Lesley pulled the bleeding arm up to his mouth, licking slowly. “This is all I can think of right now... making you bleed and scream.” He looked up, meeting Christien's glare. “It would be much more fun for me than for you, love.”
Christien growled, and with his free hand grabbed the back of Lesley's neck and kissed him passionately. Surprised, Lesley released Christien's arm, and the man skillfully pinned both of his wrists.
“I am not afraid of you, Lesley. Nothing you can do or say will ever make me fear you.” And then, staring meaningfully, Christien let Lesley go.
Frowning, Lesley raised his hands and deliberately slashed down both of Christien's biceps. Christien grunted from the pain, his glare increasing, but didn't move away.
“Petulant fool...” Lesley hissed, wrapping his hands around Christien's broad shoulders and slowly clawing down the hard muscles of his back. Lesley smiled triumphant, a long groan finally pulled from Christien's lips. It was deep and melodic and he wanted to hear more.
Lesley ran claws up the sides of Christien's waist and chest, digging in to the softer flesh as the man cried out. “Oh, that's it... a little louder, Chrissy...” Lesley bit Christien's shoulder, sinking sharp fangs in and feeling Christien's whole body buck and shudder as he howled from the pain. “Yes, love... Just like that...”
Christien clutched Lesley's back, his knees suddenly weak. What he had thought was a contest to endure pain had turned into a very hazy, delicious ache as Lesley sliced, licked and bit his flesh however he pleased. “Oh fuck...” Lesley's claws again on his sides, scratching deep red lines into him.
“On your knees,” Lesley ordered heatedly, watching Christien sink down slowly, the man's posture wavering as he glared up. Lesley ran long fingers into Christien's curls, pulling the thick hair back to see the blazing brown eyes even clearer. “Christien, you are fucking gorgeous... The things... I wish to do...”
“Do them, Lesley. I won't stop you.” Christien said with a growl, his voice hoarse. In reply, Lesley backhanded him, pain numbing his mouth and cheek. Christien could taste blood, and he ran his tongue over his swollen lip. “...Gonna have to be a bit rougher than that for me to leave.”
Lesley grinned, running his thumb over the cut on Christien's lower lip. “No, this is about the right level for pain. Even my little First Chair spell hasn't kicked in, so I haven't done anything too irreparable.” He ran soft claws under Christien's throat, scratching carefully until the man moaned, thinking about the spell that bound him from hurting the Councilors.
Lesley had used to think of the spell as an annoyance, just a hindrance to keep him from killing the bloody fools that would corrupt the Council. But now, with Christien... Lesley could never truly hurt Christien because of the spell. He would never have to worry about his fae passions tearing this maddening man into long strips. And Christien... well, clearly he could handle a fair level of pain and turn it to pleasure.
“Tell me what I'm going to do with you,” Lesley whispered, tangling both his hands into Christien's hair and pulling his face up.
Christien grinned viciously, panting. “Oh, I have a fair idea.” He ran his palms up the front of Lesley's pants, rubbing the large bulge grown there. Lesley breathed out slowly, and Christien took it as consent, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his fly.
“Fiendish little fool...” Lesley moaned out, Christien's mouth very hot and slick as it engulfed his length. The tongue was eager and lips snug, and Lesley tightened his hold on Christien's hair, forcefully pushing in to the wet heat in heavy, long thrusts. Christien made a coughing sound and grabbed at Lesley's hips, gaining control as he opened his mouth wider.
Hips held still, Lesley shuddered as Christien sucked deep, bobbing in a steady rhythm on his cock. Pulling up to pay special attention to the thick flesh of his head, than sinking down and licking up the smooth bottom of his length. Then repeating, his damn tongue pressing and rubbing everywhere it touched.
Christien suddenly pulled Lesley's arousal down deep and held him there in the impossible tightness of his throat. Lesley watched, transfixed, at Christien's lips stretched wide around him. His lips were flush against the bottom of Lesley's naval as Christien took all of him in, the man's brows furrowed, breath coming out in harsh bursts from his nose.
Lesley felt himself swell, quickly pulling out of the blessed heat to shoot his seed over Christien's cheek and chin. He rubbed his dripping tip against Christien's open mouth, over his swollen lips and rough stubble slick with saliva. The man was delectable.
Christien moaned from the rain of hot fluid, his mouth wide as he gasped for breath. He was achingly hard, his whole body tight and hot. He missed the feel of Lesley on his tongue, and he leaned forward and began licking up the flat naval.
Lesley stopped him, pushing Christien roughly onto his back and abruptly kneeling over the dazed man. His seed had mixed with the blood on Christien's face, and Lesley dipped down to taste. “You luscious beast...” He licked thoroughly, eventually finding Christien's mouth and wrapping their tongues together.
Christien tried to flip them, but Lesley resisted, pulling his mouth away to stare down at Christien's strong features. The man was glaring again, in desperate need of release and ill-tempered about it. Lesley chuckled at the sight, earning him a growl.
“Push your pants down,” Lesley ordered, raising up to his hands and knees above the hot body below and resting his head against Christien's so he could comfortably stare down Christien's muscled form. Christien quickly undid his pants, raising his hips up to push leather and briefs down to his thighs. His erection rose up, dark and red and very thick with need, and Lesley admired it long moments, before turning back up to Christien's waiting face.
“Hand,” Lesley prompted, slowly licking Christien's palm and fingers once he brought it close enough. He trailed hot saliva over Christien's rough skin, meeting the man's hungry gaze. “Now touch yourself. I want to watch you come.”
Christien gave a shaky breath, reaching down between their bodies and wrapping his straining cock in his fist. Lesley followed with his gaze, biting his lip as he watched the delicious sight. “Oh... be slow about it... Yes, like that...” He murmured, Christien grunting softly in reply as he slowly thrust into his hand.
“You're very close.”
“Yes,” Christien agreed tightly, his eyes closing and head falling back. “Very.”
“Very...” Lesley licked down to Christien's collar, scraping teeth on his flesh. “Very much mine.”
“...Yes, Lez... fucking yours, you asshole...”
“Oh Chrissy, cheer up.” Ignoring whatever grumpy reply Christien was about to make, Lesley bit the man's shoulder hard. Christien came with a cry, free hand digging into Lesley's arm. Lesley released his hold, staring down in dismay as he realized he had missed the show.
Christien's cum was already on his stomach, following the flow of strong abs as the man breathed heavily. Shrugging, Lesley shimmied down, lapping at the still warm liquid, listening to Christen rumble about something against his face.
“Lez... enough.” Christien grumbled, pushing the man off his body. Lesley blinked from where he was now on the ground, watching as Christien pulled his pants up and started getting dressed. Christien didn't look his way again, throwing on his sweater and shaking out his long coat.
Lesley got up slowly, head tilted as he tried to understand just where things had gone wrong. He walked over to Christien, peering down into the angry face currently trying to look anywhere but at him. “What? Should I have sucked you off, too? What's wrong?”
Christien scowled, his cheeks turning red. “Go away. I'm tired of you.” He threw his coat on, turning to walk back into the woods.
Lesley held the man's arm tight, and they stood there, neither moving. “I can't fix what you don't explain, Christien.”
Christien shook his head, pulling away from Lesley's grip. Christien might belong to Lesley, but Lesley did not belong to him. “You can't change what you are.” Christien walked off, melting into the trees.
Lesley stared long moments, trying to understand the sorrow in Christien's voice.
What he was... Was it because he was fae? Three hundred and twenty five years old? First Chair? ...A man? What the fuck was it?
“That fucking obnoxious, gorgeous faced fool...” Lesley muttered, straightening out his hair and clothes. The man was going to drive him insane, bloody insane. Fucking mood swings and raw energy and hot, hot mouth of his. Fuck that mouth of his...
Shaking his head, Lesley walked back to White Towers, cursing under his breath.
*****
It took a few weeks, but Lesley had finally had enough of the brooding, pissy Christien avoiding him whenever they crossed paths. Christien's fae rage had gone down again after their encounter, but the man was still quite angry in human proportions, snapping and grumpy whenever the First Chair was mentioned. Lesley sought out Ged, knowing if anyone would have a clue, it would be the nursemaid.
Ged infuriatingly enough, seemed just as confused. Lesley didn't know which was worse, Ged not knowing something, or the clear amusement in his gray eyes as he told him so.
“This is not humorous, Ged. This is far beyond anything I would ever consider funny, you foul faerie. Now tell me what to do!”
Ged bit his lip to keep from laughing. Lesley may have been in ill humors, but he was eating and not manic, so extremely comical for the situation. “Sir, he's a different beast than the rest of us. I don't fully understand why he's resisting your many charms.”
“So help me, Ged, watch your tone.” Lesley snapped. He stood, pacing his office where he had called Ged to meet him. “How is Christien different? What is it about him that makes him so bloody obstinate?”
Ged thought about it, no ready answer on hand. “He fights himself. All the time. Has some bizarre standard he keeps reaching for. It could be a problem if he pushed it on the men, but he doesn't. He has never said a cruel word or even poor look when we succumb to blood or lust instincts. As long as we keep it away from the civilians, anyways.”
Lesley grunted, folding his arms over his chest. “Who are you fucking these days, Ged? I want to give him or her some more free time to keep you out of my bloody hair.”
Ged smiled, not about to give Lesley any information that could be used against him. The First Chair was the most manipulative of Councilors. “Why don't you ask him out on a date? Maybe he needs romance. Gruff as he is, he has a kind spot for all these children running around, and I've never seen him raise a hand to an animal. He's damn gooey inside, under all that power.”
That wasn't a half bad idea. Lesley narrowed his eyes, glaring at the floor while he thought.
“Ged, I'm am beyond the age where I remember how to date. Sure, I could string a million flowery words together, but what the hell does one do?”
Ged shrugged, not a hundred percent sure himself. “Fun, food, and fucking seems to be the theme, that I've seen. And they don't always end up doing the last but still happy, nevertheless.”
“Fun?” What the hell was fun to a thirty year old warrior? Christien was hardly picky when it came to eating... and the fucking was never a problem during the moment... But fun?
“Make him laugh, Lesley. That's what fun is,” Ged said with a sigh. “You have the poorest grasp on emotions sometimes. You need to get the hell out of this castle. Actually, when was the last time you went out?”
“Years ago,” Lesley mussed. “Hand selecting you, if I recall. That Clan of yours was a fair sight after this place.” He shook his head and started pacing again.
“What the hell am I doing to myself? That young thing is a nightmare and I am just not cut out for this sort of emotion. Did you know he started chasing me at twelve? Bloody twelve. He was a hellion then, and nothing has changed.”
“Twelve... are you serious?” Ged stopped smiling, concern darkening his eyes at the revelation. “No wonder he's out of his fucking mind. He's a damn Dane descendant.”
“So?” Lesley stopped pacing, confusion on his face. “Dane's group manipulates genetics for superior offspring. His mother made him into a perfect leader.”
“A leader of a Clan. Christien threw Clan and family away to chase your flighty ass since childhood. Half his life for a man that doesn't even know how to love properly.”
Lesley was well aware that he had no clue how to love. “I tried to push him away. I was indifferent for as long as I could. Until he just had to show me up with that blasted Harvey...” Lesley trailed off, remembering vividly how Christien had subdued his minotaur with pure raw strength. He bit his thumb, looking over as Ged threw his hands up.
“Right, because ignoring him for years will totally make the damn mating call disappear instead of turning it into a bitter siren. People go mad from it, Lesley. His people, Dane's people.” Ged sighed deeply. “He was made strong in all things Clan. His call will be strong. It will never let him rest.”
“Good, let his call keep him long years with me. I have answered him. It should be settled.” Lesley huffed.
“But it is not. So either your answer was wrong, or he cannot see it clear because of how long he has been waiting.”
Ged, who had also started pacing once he had realized just how bad off Christien must have been, held his hand up, an idea coming to mind. “You have to pursue him.”
Lesley shook his head. “The foolish creature has been the aggressor from the start. His kind does the pursuing, not receives it.”
“He has been rejected for long years. What male could continue the hunt after so much unlove?”
Lesley raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes heavily.
He did not know how to pursue. It involved having to acknowledge that he wanted Christien in all ways and to feel that want. Lesley had shut down all emotions hundreds of years ago to protect those around him, and to wholly punish himself for his inexcusable actions. How could he give any proper attention and affection to Christien when he himself was so very broken?
“I do not know what to do, Ged. I cannot give what is so lacking in me.”
“If you care a thing for him, you will grow your heart. The men adore him. He has made strides in finally getting the Council connected with the rest of the world. He has made the Council even warm with his bonfires and big talk. He is a good man, Lesley. A great man. Find some affection in you and share it already.”
Lesley snarled, throwing papers off his desk in frustration. “Blasted faerie, you know my family. I have nothing good in me!”
Ged, raised himself to his full six feet four inches and stalked up to Lesley's angry face. “Lesley Griffith, you cannot fool me. You were born among the maddest, most passionate beings alive. You have a terrible power in your heart. You will wake it, and you will love him, and be done with it.”
Lesley clicked his mouth shut, still glaring. “...I will try.”
Ged relaxed, stepping back and giving Lesley the space he needed. “Good. When you need help you will ask me. I know this is not easy, but by the gods, it is well needed for the both of you.” Ged left then, angry with both his bosses and how stupid the two clearly were.
Lesley went back to pacing, trying to remember back many years ago when he had allowed himself to feel love.
His parents... Lesley had loved them, in the beginning. Before he grew old enough to see how cruel they were to others. Long before they had left out Elatiss and tempted him to drink. But by then, he had realized everyone was cruel and cold, and gave little of warm emotions.
Daines had been different. The Peri Lul prince; his Clan had been powerful, but inside a softness remained.
Powerful, but warm. It had been foreign even then to Lesley. Living among the power hungry at White Towers had not helped in that regard. Lesley felt very much lost trying to stir such warmth inside him. But he would try, for the beautiful fool that was hurting over him.
ATtD Chapter Index Links