Pairing: Lance and Chris
Words: sassy girl; impotent; act of god; cutting


The old emperor's court had not been nearly this interesting.

Living in interesting times, however, is not necessarily a
blessing, as Third Ser Christopher is well aware.  His charge under
the old emperor is the same as under the new -- the housing and
disposition of gifts to the emperor.  His job, however, is much
more difficult.

The old emperor received jewels and gold and medicines and rare and
precious objects.

The new emperor, Justinian, was rather more fond of blondes.

Chris has four newly arrived and, as yet, unpresented gifts.  A
blonde and sassy girl -- newly blonde, to be quite certain -- a
quiet and meek near albino blonde who appears to be mute, and a
pair of brothers, who were true blonde.  All young, all attractive.

All a pain in the ass.

It's Alexander, however, a friend of Christopher's of old, who
alerts him to the pain regarding the albino mute.

Alexander travels far and wide in the service of the emperor and
sometimes in the service of himself.  Chris suspects that he is a
spy, but his stories are interesting enough that Chris continues to
welcome him back.  Chris himself will never leave the sacred city
and is quite aware of it.

Alexander is relaxing in his chair, drinking tea, when he first
catches sight of the albino, who Chris brings out to groom while
they talk.

"By all the little gods, Christopher!  Are you suicidal?"

Chris looks up from his brushing.  "Not quite yet, but I'm working
on it."

"You have no idea what you've got there, do you?"

Chris glances down.  "A hairbrush?" he guesses.

"That's a ben'siad there.  Are you insane?"

"No, it's a hairbrush.  I'm quite sure."

Alexander snorts and makes a hand gesture.  The hitherto pliant and
submissive -- sometimes even apparently comatose -- albino pulls
away gracefully from Chris and lies himself outstretched in front
of Alexander's feet, the tips of his fingers just brushing the tips
of Alexander's boots.

The floor under his nose is cold, hard marble, softened only by the
thin, silk rug over it.  The boots that brush his fingertips are
expertly tanned and not of local skins.  The sun is three hours
past risen.

"So," Chris says flatly.  "What's a ben'siad?"

"A killer.  Not a person at all.  A thing.  Something trained since
birth to do exactly what it is told and nothing else.  I've seen
them for hire before."  Alexander studies the ben'siad.  "In the
desert.  They're not common, but they're very deadly.  I was posing
as a potential client at the time.  I got to see some of the basic
show commands that that one's trainer had taught it to demonstrate
certain abilities.  Nothing lethal, of course.  Just basic tricks." 
His fingers flicker again.

The movement is not visible in his current position, but he knows
it has been made.  He stands upright instantly, the movement
graceful and quick.  He does not look up from the ground.  The
seventh knot of the tenth row is incorrectly tied in this carpet.

"Could he even have seen that?" Chris questions, rather amazed by
the albino's speed.  Not a true albino, of course, not with those
green eyes, but his hair is true white, although growing in brown.

"*It*," Alexander emphasizes, "could not have.  It is aware of
everything in this room and most likely a great deal outside of it. 
Naked and weaponless, it could kill both of us easily.  It's a gift
suitable for an emperor, to be sure, but the question is -- was it
sent as an assassin, a bodyguard, or by someone unknowing of what
it is?"

Chris shakes his head.  "Up until a few minutes ago, I would've
sworn he was defective.  He doesn't talk, hardly appears to hear
me, and obeys usually only when pushed into place."

"You don't know the correct commands."  AJ flashes teeth.  "Not
that I do either.  Those aren't taught to outsiders.  Their
trainers don't usually part with them.  They're for hire for a
specific task only."  He moves his hand again.  "That's the only
other command I know."

The katas take only a moment to slide through quickly.  Longer, to
repeat them slowly.

Chris whistles.  "You're going to have to show me those commands. 
He's a prettier package that way."

"Sure," Alexander says, giving the first one again.  He feels
better with the thing lying down and apparently harmless, even
though he knows it's only an illusion.

Back on the floor.  This time Lance starts counting the ticks of
the nearly silent sand clock.

"But keep in mind that it may have been sent here to kill the
emperor."

Chris freezes in mid-gloat over his prize.  "Yeah.  I'd forgotten
about that.  Damn."

"Best thing to do is to kill it."

No tensing.  No fighting.  He shouldn't care at all.  He especially
shouldn't care that the one with soft hands might be the one to
kill him.  He shouldn't.

Chris glances at the man on the floor.  "Um, should you be talking
like that around him?  What if he gets upset?"

"They don't get upset.  Or afraid.  Or lonely.  Or anything else
we'd call emotion.  They're not people -- they're created *things*. 
They respond to the commands they've been programmed with and do
what they've been trained to do.  That's it.  This one could have
been assigned to assassinate the emperor months ago.  Or, for all
I know, his trainer got a bad case of dead and he got sent here
because everyone knows the emperor likes the pretty blondes.  The
point is, you can't take the chance."

"No," Chris says.  He really doesn't like the way Alexander keeps
calling the man a thing, but it's not worth his time to argue with
him over it.  "I can't do that either.  He's a gift, you see.  It'd
be a terrible insult."

"And killing the emperor would be so much better?"

Chris sighs.  "I'll have to think of some way to present him and
keep him away from the emperor all at the same time."  His
expression brightens.  "Of course, since you found him, you'd be
the best person to backtrack him and find out what he's here for."

Alexander holds up his hands.  "No, no..."

Chris grins.

****

The one with soft hands hasn't come back.  It has been far longer
than usual.  The noisy ones -- Nick and Aaron -- have been past
twice.  Two days.  Lance stays where he was left, doing katas in
his room.

Chris comes back into his palatial domain, as indeed, all parts of
the sacred city are, excepting those that are even more so.  He has
been many hours arranging and dickering so that the albino might
escape Justinian's eye.  For now.

He looks in on Britney.  She scowls at him, as she has been doing
ever since she learned that pretty smiles and open legs did not
entice him.  Mostly, he allows a female servant to care for her. 
A male would be too tempted and he finds her fits and pettiness to
be annoying enough to almost drive him into disciplining her.  He
thinks that she may have been born of high rank before having been
gifted -- or promised a marriage of high rank due to her looks --
and is dissatisfied with her isolation now, despite the honor.

The brothers should be his next destination, but his path takes him
instead to the room of the albino.  Chris has more than enough room
for a few human gifts -- he has housed elephants in the past, along
with many other strange presents -- and keeping them thus seems
safer.

Lance looks up.  He drops his eyes when he realizes who is in his
doorway.  He stays still, waiting his instructions, as he has every
day since being sent here.

"Hello," Chris says.  The albino says nothing, of course.  He never
has.  Chris had stopped talking to him weeks ago.  "I suppose," he
says, going to a cupboard and getting the things he needs to care
for him, "that since you do respond to commands, you must be
intelligent, even if you don't speak, and I must therefore beg your
pardon for having assumed that you were deficit of wit altogether." 
He stops in front of Lance, bathing supplies held in his hands and
waits.  Ordinarily, the next step would be for Chris to lay these
in next to the bathing pool and then coax the man there and undress
the seemingly animate yet unresponsive body.

Lance blinks.  "Hello," he says, voice husky and weak from disuse. 
He is not pleasing.  And if he is not pleasing, be will be killed. 
He will have to take his own life.

Chris grins at him.  "Now if you'd just said that weeks ago, I'd've
been talking to you all along.  I suppose," he says, touching
Lance's elbow to direct him out of the room and toward the pool,
"it was Alexander using those commands on you.  You must have
figured before that that we weren't people or something and so
ignored us completely."

Lance doesn't respond.  He doesn't understand what response is
expected of him.  But he goes to the pool and waits.

Chris lays his supplies down.  "Now that's so much better than me
shoving you around, don't you think?  Although I suppose," he says,
stepping in close and putting the albino's arms above his head
before pulling his tunic off over his head, "if you knew what it
meant to be a gift, you might not want to be here at all, but then
again, if you believed Alexander, you don't have the will or
ability to mind.  Now me," he says, placing the other man's arms
back down at his sides and untying the drawstring of the loose
trousers he's wearing, "I don't believe that at all, but then, I'm
not exactly normal either."

Lance steps out of the pants without prompting.  He gestures to the
water, a small questioning movement.

"That's right.  Go ahead, get in.  Should be a good temperature." 
Chris drops his own clothes by the side of the pool.  He doesn't
have much of a need for modesty, and there's no need to worry about
his safety with this particular gift -- or there never has been
before, but in all Alexander had said, he'd never indicated that
the albino might be a danger to *Chris*.

Lance steps into the warm water, submerging himself as he's been
directed to do in the past.  This is far harder than Lance is used
to.  The number of individual thoughts he has to have to please is
so far in excess of anything he's ever known, it's staggering.

Chris follows him in and begins soaping him.  It's a comforting,
familiar routine.  "I suppose," he begins, still really talking to
himself, "that I should have looked in on the brothers first. 
They're more likely to have gotten up to trouble while I was out,
and needed something urgent.  But it's soothing taking care of you,
and after the last couple of days I've had, I thought I deserved
the treat."

Lance likes the soft hands.  The soft hands don't hurt him and do
strange things he doesn't understand.

He finishes soaping the man and then urges him down into the deeper
water where it flows into the pool to rinse off.  "You know, the
first time I did this, I was afraid you were going to panic.  Since
you didn't know what I was up to and all, and I had no idea if you
understood me or not.  On the whole, I'm glad you're not an
elephant.  You should have seen me trying to wash the elephant. 
The pool's big enough for it; it had better be, considering it was
put in for it.  I'm only afraid that someday someone will decide to
gift the emperor with a dragon and I'll have to find fireproof
clothes and shine its scales with a metal polisher."

Lance reaches out, feeling the water trail over his fingers.  He
looks at Chris.  "Nice."

Chris smiles at him.  "You like being clean then?  Or maybe just
the water?  The pool's large enough to swim around in, only I'd be
terrified you'd drown the whole time.  It's a lot more difficult
taking care of gifts that have minds of their own, you know.  Give
me a few ancient tomes and a heirloom necklace any day over
people."  He goes to get the shampoo.  "Have to redo your hair soon
enough.  Not sure what was used on it to get it perfectly that
color, but it's obvious it's growing out brown, and that won't do
at all."  He looks critically at the albino.  "Not that either do
justice to your coloring.  But then, you probably don't care.  I
certainly don't think about such things when it comes to myself. 
But then, I'm not a gift."

So, his hair needs to change.  What an odd thing to care about. 
Lance knows how to fix it, though.  Maybe a color like the loud
ones?

Chris is back in a moment, guiding Lance back up to the shallow
water where the water leaves the pool and where Lance can sit on
one of the ledges.  Chris sits behind him and starts soaping his
hair.  "In truth though, you might not be either.  In theory and in
practice until recently, I have charge of all gifts and deciding
what should be done with them once they've been properly presented
to the emperor.  You must understand -- well, of course, you
probably don't, but nonetheless, the emperor couldn't possibly use
even a fraction of what he's given.  Not to mention the elephant. 
But everything has to be taken in, valued and presented so that the
giver can be properly honored.  Thankfully, deciding on how to
honor the giver isn't part of my position.  Then, after the gift
has been presented, I decide what to do with it.  In a way, that
means all gifts are mine, which is I think what's most fun about my
role."

That means that this is the one Lance needs to please to stay
alive.

"But then we got the young emperor."  Chris sighs, fingers rubbing
at the other man's scalp as he works the shampoo in.  "And he's
very particular about certain gifts.  Wants them for himself and
keeps them if he likes them.  For a while anyway.  What happens
afterward is none of my business.  Honestly, I think it's better
that you be a gift possibly too dangerous to give, as that gives me
a certain responsibility and you perhaps a different path.  Not to
say that the emperor's toys end up broken, but it's not like I've
wanted to ask."

Lance frowns a little, wanting to know if this person, the emperor,
does the strange thing that hurts to his gifts.  But he doesn't
know how.  And the soft hands against him make Lance feel so nice.

"The trouble is, that it's a delicate thing.  You being here is
certainly a strange act of the gods, if it's not a plot, but the
emperor, ah.  He's one for proving his virility on every blonde
young thing that's lovely to the eye.  Mostly, I think, because
he's impotent.  Not a single child yet, not even a bastard. 
Dangerous thing to happen to an emperor, although he's young enough
that it's not critical yet.  Given his temper, it's better off that
he never see you at all, because even told that you might be an
assassin, he'd probably still be minded to have you, although tied
down and guarded, I'm sure."  Chris sighs.  "Time to rinse again."

Lance feels cold.  This emperor, he knows suddenly, will have him. 
And it will be the strange, hurting thing, but worse.  The
realization brings no fear, no anticipation.  It merely is.

Chris gets all of the soap out of the albino's hair, and then leads
him out of the water and starts toweling him dry.  "I wonder," he
says as he kneels to dry off the other man's thighs and calves, "if
you have a name.  The elephant had a name, y'know.  Five monstrous
names, actually, each one longer than the last.  It was quite the
pampered creature."

Lance, Lance thinks.  But he hasn't had a spoken name in so long. 
Not since childhood, not since he became a full warrior at
thirteen.  Now he is no one and nothing, everything and all.

But he remembers his name was Lance.  And his mother had dark hair.

Chris gets dressed, picks up the other man's clothes and the
bathing supplies, and nudges him back toward his room.  "Okay, now
for the fun part.  You're special on this one.  I wouldn't touch
the girl if she begged, and it's impossible to keep the brothers'
hands off each other, not to mention that growling thing they do --
and I'm still worried about how that's going to come across after
they're presented, although I'll try to make it clear that they're
dogmeat if they pull that trick on Justinian -- so really it's just
you."

Lance tilts his head slightly in question.  This is not a familiar
part of the routine.  This is new.

Chris doesn't catch the motion.  He walks the other man back to his
room, then leaves him standing there in the center.  The bathing
supplies go back in the cupboard, and the clothes are set aside to
be cleaned.  He comes back to the albino and motions him to the
bed, pressing on his shoulders to indicate that he wants him to lie
down on his stomach.

Lance frowns faintly.  This man knows the command now.  Why does he
not use it?  He must want something else.

When the other man doesn't move, Chris patiently guides him to lie
down, guiding him toward the bed, and tapping him behind the knee
to indicate that the albino should bend down.

Lance lays out on the bed, arms at his sides.  This is foolish.

Chris pats the small of his back.  "Just like that.  Now I just
need... oh.  Forgot the oil.  Sorry about that."  He pulls a sheet
up over the other man.  "Keep you warm til I get back.  Stay right
there."

Lance thinks maybe this isn't any more foolish than a grown man
washing him as if he were an infant.  He also wonders at his
continued lack of clothing.  Usually, he is redressed after
bathing.

Chris comes back with the oil.  "Gotta make you especially pretty,
you see.  We're doing the presentations of each of you one a day,
starting tomorrow.  You're going last, so I suppose you don't
really need this yet, but if we're going to pass you off as the
bodyguard type, I think it's for the best."  He flips back the
sheet, spreads the oil on his hands and starts working it into the
albino's skin.

Lance is tense.  This is how the hurting starts, with hands all
over him.  But these hands are still soft.  Maybe it will not be so
bad.  Most things are not as bad the second time.  The second time
a bone breaks, one is prepared for the pain.  The second time one
is cut, one knows how bleeding feels.

Chris is calm, his touch firm and his voice soothing.  He does tend
to talk to himself sometimes, although mostly with animals who
respond to the tone of his voice.  He goes down the other man's
back, down over his buttocks, down his legs to his feet, then taps
his shoulder.  "Time to turn over," he says, while flexing his
hands.

Lance turns.  His eyes fix on a single point on the ceiling.  He
does not wish to see what he can not stop.

"Thank you," Chris says, and works down the albino's chest and
arms.  "I was thinking an open robe for you, something embroidered
and luxuriant, but ever since Alexander came, I've been considering
other ideas.  Not quite sure what yet, whether you should be in
something form fitting or half-nude.  You need to show your
musculature without appearing like an exotic playtoy like the
others."  He pauses a moment at the other man's groin.  "And I'm
still wondering how they managed to suppress your hair growth -- I
can't give the younger brother a razor and it's nerve racking
listening to him scream from behind a wall while I shave the older
one.  Still, not as difficult as painting an elephant's balls."  He
continues down over Lance's legs to his feet and finishes, sitting
there flexing his hands again.

Lance sits up and reaches out, rubbing away the cramps in the soft,
soft hands.  They're nice hands.  They didn't hurt him.

Chris smiles at him.  "Thank you.  They do tend to ache after a
while.  But it's a pleasure working on you."

"Pleasure?" Lance repeats.  He doesn't know what this means.

"Yes," Chris says, nodding his head.  "I like taking care of you. 
I don't think I've liked taking care of a gift this much since the
year the old emperor was gifted with a cat from a distant country. 
The poor thing was definitely exotic, and also definitely quite
ill.  I had the care of her for several months until she was
feeling quite well.  She's now the very proud mistress of a
museum."

Lance doesn't know many of the words he hears.  He nods anyway and
keeps rubbing, oil sliding under his fingers.  It's almost the same
feel as sharpening a blade -- the oil.

Chris squeezes the other man's hands and lets go.  "Now some fresh
clothes for you and I'm off to take care of the brothers."  He gets
up and takes a new set of clothes from the cupboard and brings them
down.  As the albino is already sitting up, Chris puts his hands in
the air and just slips the shirt over his head.

Lance stands and puts on the pants himself.  It is routine.  This
is usual.

"There you go," Chris says.  "I'll be back later with dinner."

Lance watches until the curtain over his door swishes back into
place.  He sighs soundlessly.  He is so still here.  So pointless. 
And something else, something to do with never seeing anyone.  But
he doesn't know what it is.

Chris puts up with the screaming.  It's not much worse than
peacocks.  The younger one can hit serious high notes.  The older
one's crying is more disturbing.  It makes Chris want to cuddle him
and make him better -- except he just growls when Chris touches
him.  Growling and crying at the same time is disconcerting.  He
doesn't really like the pair at all.  He's glad he doesn't have to
decide what to do with them -- generally he tries to place gifts
where the gifts will either do someone some good or will be
cherished, depending on the gift.  But it's harder to do when you
loathe the gift.

It's with some relief that he drops their supper off and then comes
to feed the albino.  The man has been akin to a sleepwalker since
arriving and Chris has had to do nearly everything for him.  He
hasn't minded -- it's natural in him to cares for people and
creatures and things -- but the task is even more interesting now
that it's clear the albino is aware.

Night has come, cool air sliding under the curtained door.  Lance's
feet are numb, but he stands as he should.  The oil makes his skin
slick and clammy.  He doesn't like the feel.  And the scent of the
food here makes his stomach clench.  Still, he is glad when the
soft-handed one returns.

"Hey.  How're you?" Chris asks, sliding inside.  He sets the plate
down.  "Maybe now that you know what's going on, you can tell me
what you actually eat."  Animals generally come with a detailed
list of what they're supposed to be fed.  Humans generally do not. 
Chris suspects that this is because humans are either less valuable
or supposed to be capable of speaking.  With the albino, he's been
guessing based on how the man's digestive system is reacting.  So
far, he's not tolerated anything Chris has fed him well.

Lance doesn't understand.  "Food," he says, voice scratchy.  The
same thing, all the time.  It is only food.

"Today," Chris says, pulling out a chair for the other man, "we're
going with the vegetable theme.  Plain didn't work.  Fruits didn't
work.  Meat didn't work.  So vegetables it is."  He puts his hand
under the albino's elbow to direct him to the chair.

Lance sits.  He's guided through taking up the fork and taking the
first bite.  This tastes right.  Or at least closer to right.

"Just like that."  Chris is pleased.  "You're actually eating. 
That's wonderful.  Means you don't need as much help, of course,
but it also means I could've brought my dinner in with me instead
of having it later."

Lance holds the fork out to Chris, offering the food to him.

Chris smiles at him and, politely, takes a bite, much like he'd
done with the cat when she'd brought back a rat.  Except he hadn't
eaten that.  "Thanks.  But this is all for you."

So Lance eats quickly and efficiently.  He eats everything on the
plate, though he is not hungry.   It is important to do as
directed.

"That's good."  Chris picks up the plate and ruffles the other
man's hair.  He's done for the night, except for his own dinner and
worrying about the presentation of the girl tomorrow.  Normally,
he'd just go back to his personal part of the building.  But
normally he wouldn't be leaving an aware and possibly lonely person
alone behind him.  "Do you want to come with me?" he asks, knowing
that the other man probably has no idea what he's saying.

Lance knows 'come'.  He rises and waits.

"All right then," Chris says.  "But I warn you, I'm a very dull
person."  He leads Lance back to the kitchens first, to drop off
the dishes with a servant and to pick up his own dinner.

It is warmer here, almost as warm as Lance is used to.  The heavy
odors of spices make him sneeze.

Chris looks at him.  "Please tell me you're not getting sick."

"What's this, Chris?  A gift for *me*?  You shouldn't have."  The
head cook leans in and touches the firm, glistening body.  "He's
pretty."

"Hands off," Chris says firmly.  "He's a gift.  You know better
than that."

"Ah, one little touch won't hurt."

Chris doesn't put himself between the albino and the cook.  He
smiles pleasantly instead.  "One little touch won't hurt at all. 
They say the stroke that takes off your head is completely
painless.  Of course, it's not like the dead can talk."

"What?"

Lance is glad when the man stops touching him.  He doesn't have
soft hands.

Chris smiles again.  Just as pleasantly.  "I hope you've enjoyed
being cook and that you've used your time wisely to prepare for the
afterlife.  Your meals have always been satisfactory, even if your
manners are not."  He takes his plate and sweeps out.

Lance follows, sneezing again as they pass a drying rack.

One pale, sweating cook is left behind.

"Not," Chris says as they pass into his personal living space,
"that I'm going to have him killed.  Unless he's still here
tomorrow morning.  That'd be different, because then he's
exceptionally stupid as well as rude, and probably plotting
something.  I need to remember to have all of the contents of the
kitchen replaced tomorrow as well, just in case."

"Nothing poison," Lance says, meaning nothing in the kitchen. 
Here, though, there are poison things.  Some plants, a few weapons
on display.  A few pieces of jewelry with secret compartments.

"Nothing *now*, you mean," Chris says.  "Tomorrow'll be different." 
He sets down his plate.  "Wait.  You know there's no poison there
now?  Like some sort of special ability?"

Lance blinks.  "Training."

"Hmm.  So I could probably have you look in tomorrow and you'd know
if everything was still okay?"

Lance just nods.

"We'll do that then.  And I'm definitely thinking that putting you
in the pleasure toy category was a bad mistake on someone's part." 
Chris sits down, letting the other man decide whether to sit or
look around.  His rooms are a hodgepodge of various cultures, based
on different items that had come in as gifts and for various
reasons, Chris had loved too much to give away.  He rarely keeps
something truly special, but a beautiful carpet that had a slight
char mark on it from travel had found it's way to a wall.  A plush
ottoman that wobbled slightly when sat upon rested in front of the
fire.  Most of his possessions were like that.  He enjoyed the end
result.  Almost anyone, no matter where they originated, should be
able to find *something* here that looked familiar to them.

Lance moves subtly closer to a glowing brazier in the corner. 
Warmth slides through the air around it, and Lance is always so
cold here.  Then, too, there is the blade hung nearby, shining with
a sharpness that will never dull.  The blades Lance and his kind
make are like that.

Chris eats his dinner while keeping an eye on the other man.  It's
always enlightening seeing what other people are drawn to.

Lance comes back to the table eventually, settling on the floor at
Chris's feet.  He's seen the noisy ones do this, and be praised. 
He thinks it must be appropriate and... pleasing to Chris.

"You don't have to sit down there," Chris says.  "Anywhere you're
comfortable, really.  Unless you're more comfortable there.  I
should've gotten AJ to tell me more about where you're from.  Or
supposed to be from."  He gets up and puts his dishes aside.  He
doesn't plan on going back to the kitchens tonight.  "So, see
anything you liked?"

Lance looks at Chris.

"No idea what I'm talking about, hmm?" Chris asks.  "Let me guess. 
The blade is an obvious one, considering your background.  I'd say
you're very comfortable with the carpeting -- most people aren't
all that happy about seeing carpets used for walls -- but then, you
don't react much.  But, if I had to guess... hmm."  He gets up and
goes into another room, rummaging.

Lance draws his knees up and hugs them, waiting for Chris to
return.

Chris comes back with a voluminous robe, soft and napped like
velvet.  He kneels down and settles it around Lance's shoulders. 
"Now, you don't have to wear this.  But I saw you with the brazier. 
This isn't desert authentic, and I may be wrong altogether, but I
think you might like it."

Lance folds the warm fabric around himself and smiles, just a
little.

Chris sees the smile.  "Aha.  You do like it.  Well, I'll just
leave it with you then.  I don't use it much, only when it's quite
cold and I feel like being wrapped up."

Lance rubs his cheek on the soft fabric.

"Soft things, too?"  Chris pulls a few pillows out -- he's very
fond of the concept of lounging on the floor -- especially the ones
with soft fabric, and brings them over to him.  "You might like
these."

Lance reaches out slowly until his hand touches Chris's ankle.  He
draws back almost instantly.  But his fingers remember warm, giving
skin.

Chris gets down on the floor in front of the other man, sitting
cross-legged.  "Hey, you okay?  Need something?"

Lance shakes his head and reaches out just as slowly, touching
Chris's wrist.

Chris turns his hand over, palm up and waits.

Lance's fingers barely brush.  Callouses, but the hands always feel
so soft when they touch him.

Chris doesn't try to grab.  He doesn't understand the other man at
all, but he's had a lifetime's experience with coaxing wild things
to trust him.  "It's okay," he says quietly.

Lance draws back.  He doesn't understand why he's here or what he's
expected to do to uphold honor.  He could be failing completely and
he just wouldn't know it.  It's a very lost thing, this life.

Chris puts his hands back on his knees.  "I'm not sure whether I'm
happy or unhappy that I don't know what to do with you yet.  You're
the only one I'm keeping after presentation, you realize.  Now that
I know you might be dangerous, I can't simply give you to the
emperor, but deciding what to do with you is equally difficult. 
You may be with me quite a while."

Lance accepts this.  But curiosity may keep him alive.  "Emperor?"

"Yes.  You came here to me as a gift to the emperor.  You belong to
him.  Normally, he'd get you, but it's not a good idea, so I'll be
keeping you instead."

"Get me... do what?"

"What would he do with you?"

Lance nods.

"Fuck you," Chris says bluntly.  "It's what you're here for, and
the only interest he takes in gifts of people."

"Fuck?"

"Screw.  Rape, even maybe."  Chris makes hand gestures to
illustrate.

Lance doesn't understand.  He looks down.  It's... he doesn't know
what it is.  Not knowing, but knowing it is bad.  His stomach feels
tight.

Some things are easy to understand.  Chris pats the other man's
knee.  "Not you.  It isn't going to happen to you.  It's too
dangerous to risk it, seeing as what you could probably do if you
didn't like something that was going on.  And if Alexander is right
about what you can do, and your demonstration with the kitchen was
real, then you're worth a lot more than that kind of gift."

They're silent for long moments.  Something clicks in Lance's head,
then, as he thinks of Chris's gestures and tone.  "Hurt?" he asks,
suddenly.  "Fuck?"

"Sometimes."  Chris knows that isn't an adequate explanation for
someone with limited understanding.  He takes the other man's hand
gently and uses it with his own to make the hand gesture for sex
again.  It's slow and Chris rubs the albino's hand while he makes
it.  "Fuck.  Not hurting."  Then he releases the other man's hand
and picks it up again and makes the hand gesture again, this time
not being especially careful.  "Fuck.  Sometimes hurting."  Then he
lets go of the albino's hand and grabs it roughly -- aware all the
time that this is a very stupid thing to do should the other man be
frightened or startled -- and makes the hand gesture again, this
time forcing his fingers through the circle of the other man's. 
"Rape.  Yes, hurting."

Lance shivers, and nods, understanding.  "Yes.  I remember."

"You've been raped, fucked or both?"

"Rape," Lance says.  There's something wrong with saying it, but he
doesn't know what.  It's uncomfortable on his tongue.

Chris sighs.  "Yeah, that happens.  Surprised it happened to you,
what with you being the lethal one.  I'm sorry.  It's not going to
happen here though."

"Emperor?" Lance suggests.

"Emperor, maybe yes, maybe no."

Lance looks at the brazier, squinting into the coals.  "You?"

"Me?  As in me having been?"  Chris' brain catches up a second
after his mouth.  "Oh.  You mean as in doing to you.  Me, no. 
Never."

Lance nods.

"It's not something you have to worry about.  Not if I can help it. 
But the others?  Them, yeah.  Although, with Britney, I doubt it'll
be rape."  He laughs.  "Exactly the opposite."

And Lance wonders why he shouldn't worry.  "Why not me?"

"Because you're not like them."

That's true.  But then, they're not like each other either.  Only
they are.  Lance's fingers reach up and brush his hair.

Chris follows the motion of the other man's hand.  "Well, yeah,
you're all blonde, but they don't have any special skills.  They
were chosen because they're pretty.  We don't know exactly why
you're here, but you're definitely not just pretty.  In fact, I'm
going to have to find a way to get across to everyone that you're
deadlier than you are pretty."

"No," Lance says.  He shakes his head.  He's not deadly here.  No
one's told him to be.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"It's show people that you're potentially dangerous, or you being
fucked.  I know which one I'd prefer."

Lance turns away, laying his head on his knees and staring into the
coals again.

Chris gets up and moves the brazier closer.  "I don't think the
dance thing you did is going to cut it.  Not by itself..."  He sets
it down and sits again.  "On the other hand... if you did that with
a blade in your hands, that would probably convince them."

Lance reaches out, holding his hand just above the coals.  He looks
at Chris as he holds there, steady, as if he could do it forever. 
And he probably could.

Chris sighs.  "You look so sad.  I'm trying to help in my own way. 
Wanna know why I sent the cat to the museum?  Because she used to
follow me around whenever there were new gifts.  She liked anything
that was old and beautiful.  Vases, sculptures, jewelry, that kind
of thing.  Didn't care much for books, but she had an unerring
instinct for finding the most valuable item and curling up with it
or on it as though it was the only thing worthy of her.  Never
broke anything either, except once, and I found out later that the
piece she'd broken had been a fake.  I knew she'd be happiest in a
place where there'd be plenty of antiquities, and if the museum
regarded her as part of the exhibit, well, she liked being
admired."

Lance puts his hand on Chris, then.  His hand is so hot, but he
just wants to make Chris not sound like that.  It's not a good
sound.

Chris smiles at him and pats the hand warm from the brazier. 
"That's what I want for you.  To find somewhere you'll be happy."

Lance puts his hand on Chris's knee.

"It'll be all right," Chris says soothingly.

Lance sighs soundlessly.  "What am I?"

"I don't know yet.  If I knew, this'd be easier.  You're someone
I'm taking care of."

"My orders?"

"You want me to give you orders?"

Lance doesn't understand the question.  He looks at Chris blankly.

Chris doesn't know whether the other man's waiting for orders or
has no idea what he's saying.  "Stay safe.  Be happy."

"Happy?"

"Happy," Chris says firmly.

"Don't know happy."

Chris gives him a dismayed look.  "Um.  Content?  Safe?  Smiling?"

"Smiling?"

Chris gives him a smile.

Lance mirrors the expression.

Chris reaches out and smoothes the smile from the other man's face. 
"Happy is smiling because you *want* to smile."

Lance touches Chris's hand and smiles again.

"Well, if you *want* to smile, you can," Chris allows, grinning at
him.

Lance ducks his chin.

Chris takes his hand back.  "You can sleep here if you're more
comfortable," he says.  "I'm off over there," he points to a
doorway, "so you'll have this room all to yourself.  I think you'll
be warmer and more comfortable here, and it's easier than trying to
drag all of this back to your room."

Lance watches Chris's hand go.  He knows a lack, since coming here. 
He is used to sharing space with many others, used to them being
close and touching him.  And he's used to touching them, too.

Chris lies down by way of an example and folds his hands under his
cheek.  "Sleep?  You can sleep here."

Lance mimics the movement, laying in front of Chris.

Chris smiles at him.  "Yes, just like that.  I'll get you something
to cover up with, too.  Blankets or carpets, that's the question. 
I'm not sure what you're used to."

"Sky," Lance replies, waving toward the window.

"You're used to sleeping outside?"

"Yes.  Sand and sky."

Chris nods and thinks.  "Not a whole lot of sand here -- there's
the snake pit, of course.  No snakes at the moment.  It's enclosed
though.  Don't want the snakes getting out.  It can be opened up,
but it's not the warmest time of year for it."

Lance wrinkles his nose.

"Which leaves here."

Lance nods a little, smiles a little.

"Okay," Chris says smiling.  He reaches out to brush the other
man's arm.  "You can stay right here then."

Lance nods and presses his arm into Chris's hand.

Chris strokes the other man's arm.  "It's okay."

Lance blinks and sniffles and nods again.

"Damn.  You are getting a cold, aren't you?"  Chris gets up and
comes back with some embroidered comforters from the box at the end
of his bed.  He spreads them out over the other man, then lies
down.  "Better?"

Lance touches the soft fabric in wonder.  These are the types of
things he's only touched in training.  To have it so close...

Chris watches the albino's face.  "Yeah.  You like those.  Good."

"Lance."

"What about lances?"

He taps his chest.  "Lance."

Chris taps his own chest.  "Chris."

"Chris?" Lance repeats, trying out the sounds.

"Yes, Lance."

Lance smiles to show his understanding.

"Go to sleep, Lance."

Lance closes his eyes.

Chris watches him for a while, then gets up and goes to his own
bed.

Once Chris has gone, Lance's eyes open.  he watches the darkness,
waiting for dawn.

****

The next day is a huge hassle.  It's Britney's big presentation
day, and Chris has no cook, but just as many people to take care
of.  He takes Lance with him to the kitchen, and after that, just
kind of forgets that the other man is following him around.  Lance
is quiet and well-behaved.

Half the people who come running up to Chris don't need anything. 
Lance sends them away.  Those that do need something, he helps, if
Chris is busy.  It's easy, and something to do.

Nothing's going right.  The girl's somehow managed to lose bosom
while gaining length in her legs, which means her presentation
outfit needs to be completely retailored.  The woman doing the
tailoring needs to be located and the situation explained.  The
younger of the brothers, Aaron, hasn't stopped screaming for hours,
and is putting everyone on edge even more.

Lance reaches out and grabs Aaron, lifting him off the ground. 
He's tall for a kid, but Lance doesn't care.  He settles the boy
against his side.  "Shush," he orders.  When Aaron doesn't, Lance
covers his mouth and nose until his eyes go wide.  "Shush," he
repeats, and moves his hand.

Aaron doesn't make a sound, eyes wide.  "You're mean," he says.

"No," Lance replies.  He starts walking, Aaron still being dragged
along with him.  He wonders where the big noisy one is.

When the noise cuts off, Chris is barely aware of it.  It's a huge
relief, but a subliminal one.  However, he definitely notices Lance
with Aaron.  "Where's Nick?" he asks.  Something's very wrong if
there's only one of them.

Aaron checks before he answers.  He doesn't like being smothered. 
"Someone took him away to get cleaned.  They wouldn't let me go." 
He pouts, huge tears welling up in his eyes.

Chris ignores the pout.  "Yeah, but it's been how long?"  He looks
at Lance, aware that Lance probably knows.  "How long's it been
since he started screaming?"

"Two hours."

"Exactly, or more or less?"

"Close to."

"Way too long."  Chris isn't at all happy about that.  He doesn't
have time to deal with this, but it's also something that shouldn't
be ignored.  Aware that he's asking too much, he looks at Lance. 
"Can you do something with him," he nods at Aaron, "so he stays
quiet and safe, and find Nick?  Please?"

Lance nods.  He sets Aaron down.  His left hand closes around
Aaron's wrist as he heads for the bathing areas.

"Good man," Chris says, and goes back to what he was doing.

Nick is not in the bathing area.  He is in the sauna area, with a
man standing over him.  Lance frowns.  "Nick?"

Nick looks up, eyes panicky.  "Help, please, help!"

Lance does.  He disables the man quickly, breaking his arms and
tying him up in the corner with strips from his clothes.  The man
is left naked, broken and tied.  Lance turns back to Nick.  "Chris
is looking for you."

Aaron looks up from holding Nick.  "He's scared!" Aaron yells.  He
tries not to back down as Lance comes toward them.

"Scared?" Lance asks Nick.  He looks the man over.  He seems to be
unharmed, save for a few bruises.  "Hurt?"

"N-no," Nick replies.  "Thank you.  Uh.  Lance."

Lance nods.  "Come."

"But, I'm... dirty."  The man's come is smeared across Nick's face
and chest.

Lance sighs soundlessly and drags the big noisy one out to the
pool.  He strips them all quickly, and moves them into the water. 
Clean, they emerge.  "Go to Chris now," Lance orders, and leads the
way.  He's got one of them in each hand.  He's reminded of a cat
and her kittens.

Chris looks up when Lance comes back.  "Good," he says, relieved. 
"At least that much is going right.  Where'd you find him?"

Aaron replies, "There was this man!  And he was gonna rape Nicky,
and Lance broke his arms and tied him up."  He bounces in place,
holding onto Nick.

"Sauna," Lance replies laconically.

Chris looks from Aaron to Lance.  "Is that true?"

Lance nods firmly.  "Sauna."

"Damn.  Okay."  He looks at Nick and Aaron.  "You two go back to
your quarters and stay there."  He gives a wry smile.  "I'm sure
we'll know if anything else happens.  Lance, I need you to get a
palace guard.  One of the scary looking ones with the plumes on his
head.  Okay?"

Lance nods and goes to find one.  There are usually some at the
fountain, and he finds two with no difficulty today.  He sends one
to get the man and brings the other to Chris.

Chris is getting dressed in his formal clothes when Lance brings
the guard to him.  He's got his trousers on, but not his tunic. 
"Thanks," he says to Lance.  To the guard, he says, "One of the
emperor's gifts was raped.  He," he nods at Lance, "can show you
the man."

"Is he in the sauna?" the guard asks.  "Because that's where
this... toy... sent my partner."

"Yes.  But this man isn't a toy.  He's my assistant."  Chris' eyes
get flinty.  "I believe you understand what that means."

"Lookee no touchee."

Chris has absolutely no sense of humor right now.  "No.  That's the
rule for gifts.  What's the rule for palace officials who could
have you dismissed from your place?"

"Don't piss him off?"

"Much better.  Or me.  Now get rid of the scum in my sauna."

The man salutes and leaves.

Lance doesn't understand why, but his eyes keep returning to
Chris's chest, over and over.  He means not to look.

"Good work," Chris says to Lance.  "Definitely couldn't have done
it better myself.  Here, hold this."  He gives his badge of office
to Lance while he looks for his tunic.

Lance holds the cool metal in both hands and watches Chris look.

Chris finds the garment hiding under the outer robe.  "Ah," he says
and pulls it on.  Then he returns to Lance for the badge.

Lance holds out the metal, warm now from his hands.

"Thank you."  Chris drops the huge jewel-encrusted gold badge
around his neck.  "I hate this.  It's too heavy.  But it's
official."  He goes back for the robe.

Lance blinks like a sleeper waking.  "Britney?"

"Yes.  She's being presented today.  I never have to see her after
today, thankfully."

"Why?"

"She's being presented to the emperor.  To fuck, to play with and
dispose of."

"Aaron?  Nick?"

"Yes, them too.  Not today, though."

Lance shivers.  "Me?"

"No," Chris says firmly.  "Not you."

"Why?  Gift."

"You're not a toy."

"Gift," Lance repeats.  He's still a present, like Nick, Aaron and
Britney.

"Yes, gift.  No, toy."

Lance doesn't understand, but he stays quiet.

"Toys go to the emperor.  Gifts don't."

"But... gifts are *to* emperor."

"Yes.  All gifts are to the emperor.  Too many gifts for the
emperor.  *I* decide where gifts go."

"He doesn't see?"

"He sees.  That's what presentation is.  Today, he sees Britney. 
Toys, he keeps.  Gifts come back here."

"Oh."

"But things are all messed up right now.  You're sick.  I don't
dare present Nick in his current condition.  Just Britney."

"Present Nick and Aaron?  Supposed to?"

"Yes."

"Why not?"

"Because of the rape."

"He's still pretty," Lance points out.

"It's complicated.  Basically, though, he's been raped.  He may be
injured.  The emperor would be insulted to get a damaged gift."

"He's not hurt.  It wasn't... wasn't like this," Lance says, making
the hand gesture Chris showed him.  "It was here."  Lance touches
his lips.

"When you got there.  What about before?  He needs to be thoroughly
checked over before any presentation.  Then there's the whole thing
about him needing to be settled.  If he reacts differently to the
emperor because of it, that'd be bad.  And so on."  Chris looks at
Lance's confused face and sighs.  "No time to explain it all right
now.  I've got a presentation to do.  Make sure Nick and Aaron are
safe while I'm gone.  If anyone asks, you're my assistant."

"Yes, Chris."  Lance takes himself to Nick and Aaron's room.  Nick
is all in the bed and quiet, though it's early.  Aaron is brushing
his hair.  Lance frowns in confusion.

"It's okay, Nicky.  We're here now, and you're safe.  I'll stay
with you all the time, and no one will get to hurt you again. 
You're mine," Aaron says fiercely.  "Mine."

Nick buries his face in Aaron's lap.

"Why?" Lance asks, gesturing at Nick.

"He's scared," Aaron says angrily.  "What's wrong with you?  You're
all weird and dumb.  You're bad.  You let him be all scared."  His
lip trembles.  "Why didn't you save him sooner?"

Nick lifts up.  "No, Aaron.  It's not his fault.  It's okay.  We're
okay.  We're fine.  He didn't get a chance to... to really hurt
me."

Lance drifts over to the bed, reaching out to touch Nick lightly. 
"You hurt?"

Nick looks up at Lance for a long time.  "Not too much.  Not
outside.  Inside."

Lance frowns.  He didn't think there were any broken bones. 
"Where?"

Nick's laugh is strangled as he reaches out to touch Lance's chest. 
"In here.  In my heart.  My feelings."

Lance looks down at Nick's hand on him.  "Oh."

Aaron sniffles.  "We're supposed to go to the emperor tomorrow.  At
least we know what he wants from us.  There's nothing to *do* here. 
It's boring and scary and I want to go *home*."

Lance doesn't know what to say.  He just tucks Aaron in against
Nick and makes them both clean and pretty, like Chris does for him.

****

Chris comes back from court, tired but not unhappy.  He's usually
uneasy about leaving a toy with the emperor, but not this time. 
Britney acted like this is what she's been waiting for the whole
time and Chris is just a nuisance she's had to endure.

He goes to his rooms first to change, then goes looking for Lance. 
He finds him in Nick and Aaron's room, which is just as well.

"Your presentation's been put back a week," he tells Nick and
Aaron.  "I made the arrangements after presenting Britney.  Given
his reaction to her, it's probably just as well."

"Liked her, did he?" Nick asks tiredly.

"Yes.  For him, she was a demure young thing.  Shy, even.  He's got
no idea what he's in for."

Nick looks at Aaron, sleeping against his side.  "How was he with
her?"

"Attracted.  Smiling.  Said something about needing to find her
clothing as beautiful as she is.  Left with her on his arm, rather
than making her walk behind him."

"He won't hurt Aaron?"

Chris sighs.  "I don't know.  All I know for certain is that he
goes through blondes fast and that he doesn't keep any of them very
long.  I don't know what happens to any of them.  When I put that
together, I don't get answers I like.  But I don't *know*
anything."

Nick nods.

Lance reaches out to touch Aaron.

Chris sighs again.  "All right, Nick.  Where did the man touch
you?"

"He didn't fuck me.  Just fucked my mouth."

Aaron sighs softly, waking.  "He's got bruises on him."

Chris nods.  "I need to see the bruises."

Nick rolls his eyes.  "I fought back.  He's not the emperor.  I'm
allowed to fight."  But he pushes down the blankets.

"You are *now*," Chris says as he inspects Nick's skin.  "Because
you're going to the emperor and it'd be an insult to him.  But," he
looks up, giving them both a serious look, "*after* that, the rules
are different and you need to remember that."

"I know," Aaron says.  "I don't wanna fight him, anyway.  I don't
care."

Lance thinks they're both lying.  He thinks they care a lot.

Chris doesn't take it any further than that.  Their fate isn't up
to him.  All he knows for sure is that none of the gifts are ever
heard of again -- and that it's customary to destroy clothing or
glassware and the like that the emperor has used if such is deemed
no longer acceptable due to wear or damage.

Lance sighs, reaching out to touch Nick's hair.  "Pretty," he says
softly.  "Very pretty."  He squints.  "Hmm.  Oh!"  And he leaves,
returning quickly with several bottles from the bathing area.  He
finds a bowl and starts mixing things in it.  When he's done, a
dark, thick liquid is in the bowl.  He rubs some on his skin, and
displays the darkened area only to Chris.  He wants approval before
he does anything more.

Chris looks sharply at him.  "Go on back to my rooms.  I'll be
there in a moment."

Lance goes, taking the tray with him.

Aaron looks up from his quiet conversation with Nick as Lance
leaves.  "Good night, Chris, Lance."

Nick echoes him, waving them away.

"Not so fast," Chris says.  He waves at Nick.  "Let me see your
mouth."

He examines Nick thoroughly, but doesn't find anything worse than
the bruises.  Nick's jaw isn't sore and there doesn't appear to
have been any biting.  "Two weeks, maybe.  Definitely going to wait
on the presentation until after those are gone."

Then he leaves them and goes back to Lance.

Lance looks up as Chris enters.

Chris goes and sits down on the pile of carpets by Lance.  "Okay,"
he says neutrally.  "So what's your idea?"

"Color Nick and Aaron?" Lance asks.  Chris had sounded so little
and bad.  Lance hadn't liked it.

"They're not going to look any better that color," Chris says,
puzzled.

Lance touches Chris's hair.  "Like this, so they come back?"

Chris gives him a little smile.  "They're both natural blondes. 
People know that.  I can't try to pass them off as something else. 
You maybe, since it's obvious your hair isn't supposed to be white
-- I could say your hair is growing in fast and it's the wrong
color and thus I can't give you because it would be insulting.  But
I can't with them.  Those who gave the gift would be very insulted
to find that they'd been accused of giving the emperor something
flawed.  It would be bad."

Lance nods, looking away.  "I... Me.  Protect.  *I* was supposed to
protect people."

"Not kill them?"

"Other people.  If they tried to get my people."

Chris nods.  "That's what Alexander said.  That you may have been
sent as a bodyguard for the emperor."

"No."

Chris gives him a look.  "Do you know why you were sent?"

"I failed."

"Failed at what?"

"Protecting."

Chris absorbs this.  "So this was their way of getting rid of you. 
You were supposed to be a toy."

Lance shrugs.  "I'm nothing now."

Chris touches his shoulder.  "No, you aren't.  Here, you're much
more than that."

"No."

"Yes."

Lance shrugs and looks away.  "You are."

"So are you.  I can use an assistant.  And even if I couldn't,
you'd still be useful as bodyguard.  To protect people.  You are
something."

Lance nods.  What Chris thinks is not the point, even if it is
flattering.  The point is that Lance was cast out and he knows what
he is and what he will never be now.

"Do you..." Chris hasn't thought about it like this yet.  He's not
used to people who have opinions about their fates.  "Do you want
to stay here, with me?  Or protect someone?  Or go as a toy?  Or
something else?"

Lance shrugs again, then shakes his head.  He does care.  "I want
to stay with you," he whispers.  He shudders.  He's not supposed to
think or want or talk.  This is all so wrong.

Chris smiles at him.  "Then you will.  Part of what I do is decide
what a gift is worth.  And you're worth far more than a toy.  The
rest of it is putting the gift where it'll be of most use or be
best taken care of.  And for you, that's most definitely *not*
throwing you away as a toy."

Lance is still bothered by the thought of throwing Aaron and Nick
away, but he's glad to stay here.

"To tell you the truth," Chris says, lying down and closing his
eyes, "I don't like the idea of the toys.  They're not what I'm
used to handling.  I'm used to everything I deal with being of
value to someone.  One of the best parts of this, other than
getting gifts, is feeling like I'm always giving gifts to other
people.  But toys."

Lance reaches out.  His hand fits over Chris's collarbone.

Chris opens his eyes.  "Hey."

Lance leans down, very slowly.  Like he saw Aaron do, he presses
his lips to Chris's.

Chris puts his hand on Lance's cheek and moves his mouth gently
away.  "You don't have to."

"I know."

Chris nods, and this time, kisses Lance.

It feels good.  Lance didn't expect that.  He thought it was
just... comfort.  Caring, like Aaron taking care of Nick.  But it's
more, and it feels good and Lance doesn't want to stop.

Chris takes care of Lance, kissing him and stroking him until he
comes, then holds him, an arm over Lance's waist.  Holding without
confining.

Lance shudders with the aftermath.  "Pleasure," he murmurs.  He
kisses Chris again and reaches down to give Chris pleasure.

Chris nods.  "Pleasure."  He lies back to give Lance freer access.

Chris is pretty, in pleasure.  Lance sighs and stays close to
Chris's side, after.

****

Nick's bruises take longer to heal than Chris had thought.  It
doesn't much matter -- the word from the imperial suite is not to
send anyone else yet.  Justinian is apparently very taken with
Britney.  Unusual, considering the emperor's legendary appetites,
but just as well, since Nick is still shaky.

Lance sleeps in Chris's rooms every night.  Sometimes with Chris
next to him, and sometimes not.  But they haven't given each other
pleasure again since the first time.  Lance isn't sure why. 
Chris's eyes are neutral every time Lance touches him.  He doesn't
touch Lance.  Lance doesn't understand, so he doesn't start
anything.  He just waits.

After having touched Lance, Chris backs off.  Not because he didn't
like it -- he liked it very much.  But technically, Lance is still
a gift, and Chris shouldn't touch him.  Not until Lance is
officially assigned to him.  He's confident about it happening, but
not so confident as to risk either of their lives on it.

Chris is on edge the day of Lance's presentation.

The pale robe given to him does not hide his body.  Lance would not
have cared, before.  But his body... everyone can see him.  He's
barely covered.  He does not like strange eyes on him.  He only
wants one person looking on his body.

Chris comes back out and looks at what Lance has been put in.  "No,
no, that's all wrong.  He can't even move in that.  Doesn't anyone
*listen* to me?"  He shakes his head.  Of course, they don't.  None
of the servants who come over for presentation are permanently
assigned to him.  They have no idea what's going on, and Lance
would sooner cut his tongue out than contradict what someone tells
him.

"C'mere, Lance."  He beckons Lance back into his room. 
Presentation clothing for people is a new thing to him, and he
doesn't trust the toys enough to leave the clothing with them.  So
it's in his room.

Lance follows obediently, walking carefully in this... clothing.

"Don't know what they were thinking," Chris grumbles.  He lays
Lance's clothing out on the bed.  Trousers that look tight, but are
loose where Lance'll need to move.  A tunic that will barely cover
him.  And a robe that's shorter than traditional, but cut so it'll
flow as he moves.  He'll look mostly unnoticeable in it -- until he
moves.  Chris thinks it'll work.  "Go ahead and change into this."

Lance does, stripping.  The flush that darkens his skin is not the
same as the way he felt with others seeing him.  This is Chris.

Chris puts the pale robe away carefully.  That one's for Aaron.  On
him, it should be the perfect combination of revealing and
concealing, but then, he's smaller than Lance.

Lance looks at Chris when he's completely nude.  Chris isn't
looking.  The feeling must be disappointment, for Lance wants Chris
to look.

When Chris comes back, Lance is dressed.  "You look good.  C'mon. 
You need one more thing."

Lance follows.

Chris gestures around the room.  "Pick a blade.  Whichever one you
like best."  Most of them are for show.  One is his by right and
ability.  But not by inclination, which is why it's on display and
not in use.

"To do what?"

"Stand still," Chris says, then makes the hand gesture for the
dance.

Lance flows through the kata without thinking about it.  When he's
finished, he nods.  "I see."

"Will it work with a blade?"

"Yes."  Lance begins searching.

Chris watches.  His idea is to show that Lance is no toy.  That his
hair has a few inches of brown in it won't hurt any.

The blade Lance finds is curved, just a bit.  It will look liquid
in the kata.  "This?"

Lance has picked his.  Chris nods.  "Yes."

Lance smiles at Chris.  "You're so... you give me pleasure."

"You do for me as well," Chris says, standing.  "Shall we go?"

Lance nods, holding the sword in one hand.

Chris looks at him critically.  "You can't carry it like that.  It
looks wrong.  Just a minute."  He goes to his closet and gets the
pale robe, then he leaves the room.

"I need you," he says to Aaron.  "You'll have to leave your brother
for a few hours, but you'll be coming back afterward.  Will you
come?"

Aaron looks at Nick, and nods.  "Yes, sir."

"Good.  Put this on."

"I'm coming back?" Aaron asks.  This is a presentation robe.

"Yes.  I swear.  I need you to make Lance's presentation look more
impressive."

Aaron nods and takes Chris's hand.

Chris leads him back to his rooms.  "All right, this is what I want
to do."  He holds his hand out to Lance for the blade.  When Lance
gives it to him, he holds it, flat across his palms, hands out in
front of him.  "I want you to carry it like this, Aaron.  When
Lance is presented, I'm going to have him do this."  He gives Lance
a crooked smile of apology and makes the gesture for Lance to
prostrate himself.

Lance does so.

Aaron's eyes get very wide.

"When he does that, you need to walk forward and lay the blade down
as gracefully as you can.  It needs to be laid down like this." 
Chris places the blade about two feet in front of Lance, blade
perpendicular to his body.  "When you do, you need to walk back,
out of the way. Then I'm going to give him another command.  He's
going to grab the blade and do some movements.  When he's done, you
need to go get the blade, carrying it again exactly the same way,
and come back.  Do you understand?"

Aaron nods.  "I do."

"Good."  Chris hands the blade to Aaron.  "You can just hold it
normally until we leave here.  Or set it down.  It'll get heavier
the longer you hold it.  Most things do."  He turns to Lance. 
"Stand up, Lance."

Lance stands.

"What I need you to do is that, then the dance, then that again. 
But after the dance, I need you to put the blade back exactly where
you got it from.  Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Good," Chris says, relieved.  "Let's go."

They go.

Chris leads the procession.  They make a small, but dignified
company.  He knows how to look self-important.  Lance has his eyes
down, which only makes him more mysterious, and Aaron completes the
small group, looking golden, but with the naked threat of violence
laying in his hands.

They aren't stopped by the guards as they enter the imperial
residence, and Chris silently congratulates himself.  He or Lance
would look threateningly carrying the blade.  But Aaron does not,
and it adds a touch of formality.

Aaron looks around with just his eyes as they walk.  This is where
he and Nick will be sent, soon.

Lance stays quiet.  He does not want to leave Chris.  He wants to
stay.  He *wants* to stay.  And he's scared he won't be allowed to.

They're announced and led in before the assembled court.  Chris
controls his reaction when he sees Britney seated on a cushion on
the floor near the throne.  This is definitely new.

Chris sweeps a low bow to the emperor.  "Your imperial majesty. 
Today, I present to you a wonder indeed.  One of the legendary and
indeed, before his arrival, thought to be nearly mythical, a
ben'siad from the furthest reaches of a faraway desert country."

He bows again, and then makes the hand gesture for 'lie down'.

Lance flattens himself to the floor.  He's very aware of the young
man staring at him.

"He's very lovely," Justinian answers lazily.  His hand slides over
Britney's hair.

"Ah, but loveliness is the least of his attributes, as you shall
see," Chris replies.

Aaron steps forward and sets the blade, as directed.  He backs
away, kneeling near the wall with his head down.

Chris waits until he feels he's given them a suitably dramatic
pause, then makes the hand gesture for the dance.

Lance is up and running through the kata before he has time to
think about it.  But this time, he does not only the easy kata used
for demonstrations, but also the most difficult one he knows.  A
blur of speed and color, the blade flashing.  Lance feels like
flying, free and above the ground.   He holds the last position and
waits for the signal to fall back down.

Chris waits a moment, then gives the other hand signal again.

Lance lays out the blade and prostrates himself.

"Impressive."

Chris sweeps a low bow.  "The very least of your many possessions."

Justinian sits forward.  "But he is lovely."

"Lovely, yes, but dangerous.  The ben'siad," and Chris is glad that
Aaron's taken the blade out of reach already, lest Lance be slain
out of hand.  Equally glad that he's got Lance kneeling with his
face down.  "Are deadly warriors, trained in the arts of
assassination and counter-assassination.  They are weapons and
shields against weapons such as themselves."

An imperial smirk.  "And if I wish to take him to bed?"

Another low bow.  "Your imperial majesty is as courageous as he is
wise."

Justinian raises and eyebrow.  "You mean to say you have not
prepared him for this?"

"Would one prepare a sword for use as a kitchen utensil?  No, I
have prepared him according to his worth."

"And you want him."

"I have had no abler assistant in the time that he has been here. 
Your imperial majesty is no doubt aware of the man who attempted to
steal the joys of one of your gifts for himself?  This is the one
who stopped that, when the guards were not even aware that the
criminal was on the grounds."

Justinian laughs.  "I let you win because you have served well.  I
do not take him to bed, because she is jealous.  I do not need the
other sent over because she is... wonderful.  Do as you see fit
with them."  His eyes are on Britney only.

Chris does not keel over from relief only because he's used to the
terror.  Any meeting with an emperor can lead to fates
unimaginable, and no emperor has ever appreciated a coward in his
memory.  He bows very low.  "As your imperial majesty wishes."

He gives Lance the command to stand, and retreats.

Lance follows, Aaron trailing behind.

Back inside the safety of his own compound, Chris feels faint.  He
takes the blade back from Aaron.  "Get changed and return to your
brother.  You may tell him that neither of you will be presented. 
It'll take some time to determine exactly what to do with you, but
whatever it is, it won't be that."

Aaron smiles softly.  "Can we have sex with each other now?"

Chris gives him a look.  "You expect me to believe that you weren't
already?"

"We weren't.  We were good."

Chris gives him a sad smile and doesn't tell him that half of the
attraction of them as toys, and the whole reason they were never
separated, is because the emperor would have wanted to see them
fucking each other.  "Yeah.  It's okay now."

Aaron lays down the robe.  "Nicky can be my first?"

"Yes."

Aaron squeals and runs out of the room.

Lance smiles a little.  "His first what?"

"First time having sex."  Chris reaches out for Lance's hand and
strokes his fingers gently through the circle of Lance's.  "Like
that."

Lance shivers.  "Like that?  No hurt?"

"No hurt.  Or maybe a little hurt, but not on purpose."

Lance steps forward.  "Show me?"

Chris' brow knits.  He gestures at Lance's hand.  "I just did."

Lance's arm wraps around Chris, his other hand sliding lower over
Chris's groin.  "Show me?" he whispers.

"Oh," Chris says, stiffening.  He starts to smile slowly.  "Yeah? 
You want that?  I can do that."

Lance swallows hard and nods.

Chris takes his hand and draws him back into the bedroom.  "Here or
where you sleep?"

Lance shakes his head.  "Don't care."

"Okay."  Chris leads him in and takes off his own outer robe and
the badge of office, then reaches out to Lance to take off his
robe.

Lance lets the fabric fall from his shoulders to pool about his
feet.  He reaches out and touches Chris.  His fingertips tingle
from friction of Chris's beard.

Chris smiles encouragingly at him.  "Go ahead.  Touch me however
you want."

Lance does, exploring.  He removes all of Chris' clothes.  His
touch is somewhere between just feeling and the massages he'd been
taught for damaged muscles.

Chris shivers under Lance's hands, his own coming up to lightly
hold Lance's hips.  "Nice.  Very nice."

Lance finishes kneeling before Chris.  Chris's hands are on his
shoulders.  Chris's cock is before his face.  Lance looks up,
leaning forward as he opens his mouth.

"Oh," Chris says, breath puffing out.  "Oh.  Lance.  You don't have
to.  Really."

Lance doesn't understand.  None of this is have to.  He slides his
mouth over anyway.  Nick says men like this.  The taste makes Lance
blink, but it's not bad.  He sucks lightly.

Chris nearly falls over.  "No, no, don't," he says, pulling Lance
to his feet.

"Wrong?" Lance asks in a whisper.

"No, not wrong," Chris says, kissing him and pulling him over to
the bed.  "Good.  Very good.  But I can't stand up anymore.  We
need to lie down."

Lance smiles in relief.  He didn't do anything wrong, then.

"Want me to do that to you?" Chris asks, leaning over Lance.  "Make
you feel good?"

Lance shakes his head.  "Fuck, no hurt," he requests, reaching up
and drawing Chris down over his body.

Chris' eyes are huge.  "You want me to fuck you?"

Lance nods slowly.  Is that wrong?  Something about Chris's voice
makes Lance think it might be.

"Okay."  Chris kisses him.  "Thank you."  Kisses him again. 
"Wasn't going to.  Didn't want to scare you or push you.  But I
will.  Yes."

Lance smiles encouragingly and pulls Chris down to kiss again.

Chris kisses him, then moves down Lance's body, caressing and
kissing.  Lance always speaks of pleasure like it's something he's
never heard of before now.  He intends to give Lance all of it he
can handle and more.

"Chris?"  Lance doesn't understand.  Chris is moving down.  That's
not like before.  That's not fucking.

Chris raises his head, fingers stroking Lance's stomach where it's
revealed beneath the almost not there top that Lance has on. 
"Yes?"

"What?"  Lance gestures to Chris's position.

"I'm touching you.  Going to make you feel good."

"That is not fuck."

"It is."

Lance just nods then.  He accepts Chris's words.

Chris kisses the skin he's been touching.  "This is fucking.  Not
rape."

Lance's breath sighs out.  "Yes, Chris."

Chris stops at Lance's waist and undoes the drawstring, then starts
working the pants down over his hips.  Lance is barefoot, and it's
easy to get them off.  When Lance is naked from the waist down,
Chris comes up, nuzzling along the inside of Lance's thigh, up to
his waist.

"Oh... nice."  Lance's body lifts, wanting closer to Chris's.  He
makes himself lay flat, ashamed of his lack of control.

"You like it?  Good.  You're supposed to like it."

"Like you," Lance says, breathless already.

"I like you, too."  Chris licks Lance's cock and takes it into his
mouth.  He's afraid that it may be the first time Lance has ever
had this.

Lance's breath catches.  "Oh."  Nick was right.  Men do like this.

Chris sucks happily.  While Lance is distracted, he slips a hand
between Lance's legs, underneath to cup one of his buttocks then
feel between.

Lance spreads his legs apart for Chris.  Everything is so good like
this.  Fuck, no hurt.  Lance likes it.

Chris keeps the teasing slow and soft, not pushing Lance at all,
just showing him what he can have.

Lance's head tosses, his body rising again and again.  "Chris? 
Chris!"

Chris smiles around Lance's cock and keeps going, folding another
finger in.  Lance takes it easily now.

"Chris?  Chris!  Chris!"  Lance's hips snap up.  He bites down on
his lip.  Something big is coming.  The pleasure, but Lance wants
Chris with him when it comes.

Chris doesn't stop.

Lance shudders, unable to hold off any more.  He gasps silently. 
He wants to tell Chris, but he can't make a sound.

Chris swallows, happy to give Lance this.

Lance finally relaxes back onto the bed.  "Chris," he purrs.

Chris draws back, pulling his fingers out so he can kiss Lance.

Lance sucks at Chris's tongue.  The taste is different.  Lance
blushes as he realizes what accounts for the change.  He slides his
finger against Chris's lips and the other man sucks it in.  "Me,"
Lance whispers.

"Hmm?  Oh."  Chris grins at him.  "I taste like you now."

"Yes."

Chris kisses him quickly.  "I like it."  Then he slides back down,
tapping Lance's hip.  "Roll over, okay?"

Lance does, settling onto the soft, soft support of Chris's bed.

Chris moves back between Lance's legs and starts rubbing Lance's
buttocks, kneading them, thumbs tracing down the seam between them. 
When his hands get to the tops of Lance's thighs, he leans down and
licks that same crease.

Lance freezes.  "Ooh, Chris, oh..."

"Good, hmm?"  Chris' hands come up to spread Lance's buttocks so he
can lick deeper between them.

"Chris!" Lance cries out, surprised and shocked.  No one has said
anything about this.

Chris lifts his head.  "Good?"

"Y-yes?"  Lance shivers and looks back over his shoulder.  "New."

"As long as it's good," Chris says, smiling widely.  He drops his
head back down, licking more until Lance is pushing back against
his mouth.  Then he pulls away.  "Now, fuck."

Lance nods, spreading his legs further.  "You."

"Yes, me."  Chris is as slow and gentle as he knows how to be. 
It's been a long time for him.

Lance shivers.  It hurts a little, like Chris said, but not on
purpose.  And then it doesn't hurt at all, and it's so good.

Partway through, Chris palms Lance's hips and reaches around and
finds that, yes, Lance is hard again.  The other man is starved for
pleasure, Chris thinks.  He wraps his hand around Lance's cock.

The added stimulation breaks Lance's control.  He cries out and
presses back and forward, over and over.  He wants more, more
feeling, more pleasure, more Chris.

Chris stops holding himself back when Lance comes.  A couple of
hard thrusts later and he's coming, too.  He kisses Lance's back
after he does, then lies down next to him.  "Good.  Really good."

Lance shivers, burrowing close to Chris.  "Good."

Chris kisses his forehead and then gets up.  A few seconds later,
he comes back with an armful of coverings and drops them on top of
Lance.  He straightens them out then climbs back under, wrapping
his arm over Lance.

Lance giggles.

"Have to keep you warm," Chris explains.

Lance lays his head on Chris's shoulder.

"I was afraid of losing you today," Chris says into the silence. 
"I didn't realize how attractive he'd find you.  I thought he'd
think you were odd looking.  But it's the way you move that's
irresistible."

Lance rubs his nose on Chris's shoulder.  "I'd have come back."

Chris chuckles.  "You know, I actually believe you."

"I would."

Chris kisses him.

Lance kisses back, this time confidently.

****

By the time Alexander comes back, it's obvious to everyone that
Britney is pregnant.  Chris isn't altogether happy about the events
in motion to make her an official wife, seeing as how she might
feel she has reason to revenge herself on him for her time here,
but it makes sense.

Even more sense when the official word that all future gifts of
'toys' should be returned with thanks and apologies came the day
after the pregnancy was announced.

"So," Chris tells Lance, "I have this theory that maybe Justinian
wasn't ever using his toys the way everyone thought he was."

"Oh?" Lance asks.  He's idly relaxing on the bed, waiting for Chris
to join him.

"Yes.  He's not stupid, even though he's young.  The position of
emperor is a tough one, and history's full of stupid ones who died
young.  He needs to prove that he can father children.  Which he
just did.  But before he did, he couldn't tell anyone it was a
problem.  They'd have crucified him.  So he comes up with this idea
-- acting like all he wants is to use and throw away pretty young
things.  It's the perfect way to disguise his need to prove his
potency."

"Better chance if only girls," Lance points out.

"Yes, but then it's obvious what he's trying to do.  Going after
men too makes it that much more convincing."

A voice speaks up from the inner room.  "Since when are you into
politics, Christopher?"

He looks questioningly at Lance, then goes into the other room. 
"Alexander!  I didn't see you."  

"You have better things to pay attention to, obviously.  Didn't
listen to my advice either."

Chris doesn't sit down.  "That's because your advice was stupid."

"Hardly."

Lance follows, standing behind Chris.  "Hello."

Alexander's face twists.  "So you taught it to talk."  He makes the
gesture for 'lie down'.

Lance raises an eyebrow and looks at Chris.

Chris gives him a smile, before turning to Alexander with a much
grimmer expression.  "He's my assistant now.  And my lover.  Not an
'it' and most definitely a person.  I'd appreciate it if you didn't
try to manipulate him like that."

Alexander straightened up when Lance didn't obey the command.  He's
poised to jump into action even now.  "I suppose that you're not
interested in my information anymore then."

"No, I'm still interested.  I'm just going to react based on my
experience with him and not what stories you've managed to drag
up."

Lance reaches out, touching Chris's shoulder.  "We are raised to be
objects when in public," he says quietly.  "You are not the same in
public as you are alone.  Nor are we."

Alexander shakes his head.  "I can see it won't do any good.  I
went back to the source -- the lord who sent him.  He'd been
approached by a man from the far desert who said he'd heard of the
emperor's tastes and that he had something to sell him that might
please the emperor.  No more than that.  The lord in question had
no idea he was purchasing a ben'siad."

Chris nods.  "I'd guessed as much."

"I never did find the trader.  But I found the trader's people. 
Eventually, they told me that their creatures are never sold."

"Except," Chris points out, "Lance was."

"Except," Alexander says, a smirk on his lips, "when they're
useless for what they were trained for.  That's what I came back to
tell you.  You're in no danger.  You can give it to the emperor to
use and throw away."

Lance steps back, nearly hiding behind Chris.  He knows, knew he
was useless.  He knew.  But for a time, he wanted to believe Chris.

"Their definition of useless is a lot different than mine.  He's
faster than you are, isn't he?  His people simply have much higher
standards.  And don't know how to value a person any better than
you do.  I'm glad to have him here."

Alexander stands up and gives him an ironic bow.  "I can see my
help is unnecessary and unwanted."

"This time, yes," Chris says.

Chris doesn't turn around until Alexander's gone.  Then he does,
looking at Lance.  "I'm sorry."

Lance shakes his head.  "Nothing was said that was untrue."

Chris reaches out to him.  "Nothing was said that is true *now*."

Lance takes Chris's hand.  "It is still true that I failed.  It is
still true that I am the only one of my people sold in a hundred
years."

"That long?  I got luckier than I'd thought."

That makes Lance smile and step closer to Chris.

Chris wraps his arms around Lance.  "You're good for me.  You're
good at the gift-giving business.  I would never have thought of
turning Nick and Aaron into singers.  I didn't even know they sang. 
Screamed, yes.  Sang, no."

Lance settles his head on Chris's shoulder.  "Learned from you."

Chris strokes Lance's hair tenderly.  "Come to bed with me?"

"Always."

Chris leads Lance to bed, undressing him with soft hands and making
sure to pile the covers on top of him to keep him warm.