New beginnings...

Renee turned her head to the side, and Traine watched her as she talked to someone he couldn't see. Her jaw moved and her neck flexed, creating pleasant lines that weren't helping his thoughts stay on track. Her hair had been getting longer steadily over the years. She would cut it less and less every time until it was long enough to pull up into some weird kind of bun held together with clips. It left her neck bare and the way she was turned only emphasized the length of it, the smoothness of it, and how undeniably feminine it was. She had transitioned from one of the soldiers in the trenches to their leader, but still got dirty -with relish- when it was called for. It happened less and less, her forays out to get directly involved with the wet work, and Traine could feel her changing to fit and grow into a role he didn't think she would be willing to leave.

He could say she had gotten softer, but that was only true in the looks department. She wasn't a chiseled mass of muscle like she had been straight out of college. Administrative work and making connections didn't lend itself to four plus hours of work out time along with the overtime an Organization like hers sometimes needed when shit hit the fan. Even so, she was fit, could still punch a man out, and had the endurance to outrun a lot of her own hitters. Traine didn't think her softer appearance could all be attributed to a lack of time. It was part strategy, as well. He knew her and all the dangers that came alongside, but when she came walking up in her 'little black dress' sporting curves that were enhanced by the addition of some extra fat, it hit him right in the gut. And lower. Bigger bust, wider hips, and his brain flew right out his ear. He wasn't the only man who'd been overcome by the package, but he also wasn't in charge of an Organization or a company she was negotiating with.

Her lips curled up in a slight smile and Traine watched that spark of fondness warm her face in an expression that he always found to be too brief now-a-days. Suddenly, there was an off-handed punch to his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The unconscious step forward he had been making turned into a step away from the direction of violence as his head whipped around to face his attacker.

Drei stood just inside his own incredible long reach, which was too far for Traine to hit him back even if he hadn't just moved further away. The taller man gave him a split seconds worth of an oblique glance before his attention was focused on the woman who had just finished her talk. Traine was still a bit startled, but he looked forward to see her eyes darting between them, curious about the exchange she had just missed but visibly blinking it aside and walking between them and ordering them to follow her. They did what they were told.

Feeling eyes boring into the side of his head he turned his head enough to see Drei staring, an eloquent look on his face. If it wasn't enough, he mouthed the word 'whipped' which got a raised lip from Traine in response. A non-verbal denial that was habitual and not anywhere close to being true. As he walked behind her and tried not to notice the sway of her hips, he thought that being whipped by Renee Sharps wasn't a bad thing at all.

( It was the kind Drei's own father gave his mother sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking. )

Did anyone ever know when feelings of friendship and caring turned to love? Blaine himself wasn't ever sure. He couldn't say he had felt 'love' very often. There was lust, of course. He was intimately equated with that emotion, after all. Familial love was just there, always. It was a fondness that never grew into the heat in your belly when you saw someone. Every time you saw them. That drove you to think about that person all the time. Blaine had crushes, but they were fleeting and gone and he was left to his own devices again. Nothing wrong with that, for him. He didn't want to get tied down. Sometimes though, it just catches you.

What drew him to Blake had been the need to instigate. To get under the dour man's skin and pick at him for his amusement and others. Inadvertently, he had drawn the raven haired man into their group as a result. He never fit in completely, but his presence was never shunned and their loose group of friends got along well enough that the man didn't have to be alone if he didn't want to be. Blake's tongue was sharp, and once his baleful glares subsided into merely annoyed looks, they bantered back and forth and he treasured those small quirky smiles he would get sometimes. They spent more time alone with one another than in a group, finding some random things in common and just enjoying each others company.

Blaine wondered if this was what it was like to have a brother. He had sisters, but he didn't curse at them and spar with them, not seriously anyway. His younger sister would sometimes come cuddle next to him, but Blake never did that. There was definitely a line between them that separated the touching. Blaine crossed it sometimes, but he'd get an absent minded smack of reprove in response. He'd just smile and then it would be done with.

The kiss... brought a lot of emotions forward that Blaine had been steadfast at ignoring. He cursed Craig for asking Blake 'Truth or Dare' for the millionth time that day. He cursed Blake for saying, finally, 'Dare' after he had refused to play for the past 30 minutes. He cursed that evil glint in Craig's eye as he grinned triumphantly and announced his dare with a theatric flare.

"I dare you to kiss Blaine. A real kiss."

The table erupted in laughter along with claims of faggotry, though they all knew Blaine wasn't going to be the one to mind. He was bi. Liked guys better even. But it wasn't for his benefit, more to discomfort Blake, who was 100% straight as far as any of them could tell. "Come on. You know he's not going to do that," Blaine had said with a laugh. Normally he'd be the one jeering them on, but some part deep inside him knew that being part of the joke hurt and seeing Blake wiping the kiss off afterwards and screwing up his face in disgust would hurt more.

Blake leaned away and the blonde started to say something like 'See?' but he stiffened as he felt an arm drape across his shoulder and his smile froze. "Blaine."

He turned his head and he wasn't sure what he thought he was supposed to see, but dark blue eyes were right there and lips were on his and he jerked with surprise but couldn't get away as a hand was at the back of his head, sliding into his hair and he gasped because it was the only thing he could do. And then there was a tongue just suddenly in his mouth and he made a noise and Blake was kissing him. Really kissing him, eyes dark and intense and not letting him back out of it because it was a DARE damnit. He only managed to kiss him back for a second before the hand in his hair tightened, pulled him back and he sucked in a breath and winced at the sharpness of it while Blake pulled away, his eyes knowing yet angry and already turning back forward to Craig across the table who was looking gleeful and scared at the same time. People were going to get whiplash, looking between him, Blake, and Craig, but Blaine would spare them having to choose because he could feel his face starting to burn with heat. He hadn't blushed in years and he bent forward burying his face into his arms until he could think again, breathe again, feel his face go back to normal and hear past the thudding of his pulse in his ears.

Craig regretted the dare a few minutes later, because Blake was a real bitch to have angry at you, but no one knew why he was so mad about it. Blaine wasn't sure either, but he had a feeling it was on his behalf. Regardless, it changed things for him after that. Hell, it probably changed things for both of them. Blake knew. Had known for a long time about those feelings, but he'd said nothing and gave no hints of knowing. Even after his behavior was the same. Blaine could admit to himself that he grew nervous, but after a while he grew... comfortable with it. He confessed. Blake knew and said so, but he never outright rejected him. Blaine wasn't ever sure what to make of that, but he didn't press. They were friends, and that mattered to him more than unconsummated love. Years later, he was more sure than ever it was not unrequited.

Renee had taken to using her meeting times with him for sleep. Traine didn't mind, and he suspected that she might do the same thing with some of her other colonel's, Blaine or Blake especially. What he didn't expect was that she used their lap for a pillow. He resisted the urge to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair, stroke her arm, because it might wake her up. He simply sat at the end while she half-curled half-sprawled across the rest of the couch, her head laying on his thigh and her breathing come in the deep and steady rhythm of sleep.

Sleep makes a lot of people look vulnerable, and he supposed that Renee was the same way, but to him she just looked peaceful. No furrowed brow, sharp looks, or a mouth set in a displeased line. The red-head slouched a bit, and she shifted minutely but that was all. He got more comfortable and read over the papers she had given him. They were always a bit more detailed than for the others, but that was so she didn't have to talk to him. The more he could read on his own, the longer she could rest. He had decided to take pride in her trusting him to understand her intentions, for the most part. Sometimes she did lecture, despite all of the details. The hour passed just as fast, regardless, but he missed the silence of times like these where he could finish the report at his leisure and then relax.

He was doing that right now, and starting to fall asleep as the report had only been a page or so long and she had scheduled him there for an hour. He had taken the paper into the adjoining room, settled down, and expected a long talk. What happened instead was Renee slipping off her jacket and dress shirt, leaving her in a spaghetti strapped camisole that could have passed for a shirt if it wasn't autumn, and flicking off her heels. She padded over, sat down, and then leaned back, plopping her head on his thigh, and rolled towards the back of the couch. A slight curl brought her feet up to rest on the arm of the chair, drawing her warmth into a tighter ball, and she was asleep. Well, maybe not asleep, but heading towards it fast.

Traine... was surprised. While she was there and not sleeping yet, he ran his hand through her bangs, looking at her speculatively. What he wanted to do was lean down as kiss her, ask her what was wrong, but instead he retracted his hand and went back to the report. If she wanted to talk, she would. What she needed was his lap, and that's what she got.

Near the end, he heard the door to her office swish open. It brought him out of his half-doze and he blinked, rubbing his eye. The only person with the code wasn't anyone he worried about seeing them like this. Melissa, Renee's secretary, poked her head into the room after realizing the main office was empty. Traine held up a finger for silence, and Melissa took a few seconds to look at the scene in front of her. She gave a hapless little smile and shrugged. Traine felt the knock on his mental wall and replied back.

/Her next meeting at four has been cancelled. Her five o'clock is going to be at least thirty minutes late, if they come at all./

Traine's eyes lowered to look at the woman asleep on his lap. /She's not going to like that./

/That's why you get to tell her,/ Melissa said with a devious smile. /I leave at six, so if they don't call by then, you'll have to man the front desk./

He looked at her with distaste but waved her off with a tiny smile. She disappeared, closing the door behind her, and the whoosh of the door opening and closing was even fainter. He looked at the clock on the wall that said it was fifteen 'til four and closed his eyes again.

When he woke, it was four thirty. Renee had barely stirred and he knew she had been very tired. He brushed the hair from her face, let his fingers trace down her neck. It was so deceptively thin, and her collarbone looked even more fragile. Her eyes flickered open. She lay there a moment, getting her bearings, then slow sat up. She slowly turned herself to face forward and her legs all but flopped over the side of the couch. With a yawn, she stretched, and he watched the arch of her back, the length of her arms as the stretched up over head. Then her body flopped forward and she blinked blearily a few more times before looking up at the clock.

She jumped to her feet, alarmed. "Shit, I'm late!"

Traine grabbed her arm. "No, no, they canceled. You have time." He pulled her around and she faced him, looking grumpy.

"You could have told me that before I had a heart-attack."

He only smiled, drawing her forward until she straddled his lap. "I wouldn't let you be late," Traine tsked at her. "Your five o'clock might not be coming. They said five thirty at the earliest."

Her mouth twisted at that, and his hands ran over her sides. His fingers tips played with the hem of her cami while he leaned back, relaxing. "We have an hour," he said, eyebrow raised.

She lifted her chin, eyes sharp with suspicion. "So that's why you woke me up."

His fingers slid up, taking the thin material with it, exposing her toned stomach. His thumbs ran along either side of the muscle until they touched just under her breast. His hands slid around, fingers splayed over her skin. "If they come, I thought you'd want to prepare."

Renee was still looking at him askance. Her hands were on her thighs, and though she was sitting on him, there was no contact on her part other than that. He sighed, dragging his hands down her torso again. One rested at the crease of her leg and torso. He leaned forward and let his other hand wrap around behind her, sliding over her ass, between the cheeks, and then grabbing her. Her body twitched a bit, and he looked up at her, letting the heat fill them.

( And then it gets squishy )

"Be like this with just me," he said softly, and he fingers ran over her back, pulling her closer.

There was no response. Not a single sound other than breathing, and she didn't tighten up. He looked down at her sleeping face and snorted again. Figures.

There was a soft knock in his head. /Yeah?/

/They called to cancel./

Traine looked up at the clock. It was a quarter after six. /I thought you went home./

There was a pregnant pause before she replied with a formality that was quite impressive, /I thought she could use a little more rest, so I didn't disturb her./

Traine smiled and laughed softly. She had definitely come in to tell them and overheard what they were doing. /Thank you. Drive safe./

/Janitors come at eight,/ she replied, and the connection fizzled.

Stroking Renee's hair, he set his clock to seven and resolved that one day, he would tell her.

Fffff I can't help it. G-Gotta drabble it out...!



The last few months had been one of those emotional roller coasters people liked to talk about in songs or romance books. The forbidden love between a married man and his mistress, or something of that line of thinking. Yukino never thought it would happen to her. Even though she knew for certain that she liked Don and didn't love him like Soichi, it didn't make her feelings any less real. She had been pretending all the while she was in Veles. The old and familiar masks layered on one after another. The longer she stayed the more they were cemented in place and the more she fell out of touch with the real her. She was isolated, alone, and lonely, but she could only blame herself for going into hiding and breaking her promise to be herself.

( She couldn't help but think he was kind of like Asaba. He was cordial with everyone, but loved women. )

She gave a soft laugh as he looked up at her, curled at her feet. The only reason why he hadn’t taken to lounging between her legs was because she had crossed them… that and it would have been hard to look up at her without forcing his head all the way back. She stroked his hair and he leaned into it, nuzzling it as he wanted to without any interference. Humans had a hard time dealing with beasts. They liked to touch and sniff and lick, using their senses with no regard to how it appeared to rather backwards human sensibilities.

Tsurei kept up appearances enough for her troops, though they knew she was a dragon. They had heard her inhuman roar, seen her claws, felt her magic pouring over them too many times to delude themselves into thinking she was human, despite her preferred form. Even so, they would have looked upon the scene and thought them lovers and not two alphas basking in each others presence. Maybe that was what lovers did, and there was an undertone of sexual tension, mostly because she denied him what they both wanted. Again, it was for the benefit of her human troops. They would not separate simply fulfilling a physical need and the weaknesses of emotional ties. The few beasts that were under Xiong’s command were in various states of bafflement as to why they were holding off. Some knew more than others the complications from a human perspective, but even they thought it was silly. Consummating their powerbase was more important than whatever the humans thought. If they stayed alive, they wouldn’t care anyway.

It was as if he had read her mind, which was possible, to some extent. Escree was a Ring given talent for beasts, and Xiong was especially sensitive. It might have just been to her, but he seemed to pick up on the emotions and feels of all things, people, dragon, elf, or beast equally well. At that moment, he sensed a weakness and was on his knees, face rubbing up her body as he inhaled deeply. He stopped with his nose nestled between her breasts, eyes looking up at her, a deep gold compared to the playfully bright sunshine yellow they had been before. He hungered for it… no, that wasn’t right. He hungered for her, and she him.

Xiong was just rising to his feet, using his body to push her back and taking another deep breath when he stiffened slightly. Her hands had been sliding up the wide expanse of his back when she also took a breath. He pulled away and her eyes followed him, watching the expression change. The rustle of fabric pre-dated a familiar voice by just a second as Salem announced his presence, not waiting for permission before entering through the second flap.

The look on Xiong’s face was quite hostile and Tsurei stood, running her hand up his chest where Salem couldn’t see, hoping to quiet him. “What is it?”

It took a second before his eyes shifted away from the angered beast, his own expression having turned accusatory as he read the situation before him. Salem had no right to complain, so he smoothed over his face. “The King in Waiting is here.”

They both started and looked at one another in shock. There was another rustling of fabric and there was no time for questions. Tsurei had a bad feeling about this.

There wasn't anything special about Blake's upbringing through his first few years. His mother doted on him, but was stern when required, and his father was just kinda there, but not a driving force in his life. When he was young, his mother would support his desires as they changed wildly with youth. 'I want to be a pilot!', 'I wanna be an astronaut!', 'I wanna be a cage fighter! RAWR!'. His mother would laugh, admonish, and support him in whatever he wanted to do. She would tell him 'You can be whatever you want to be when you grow up. Nobody can ever tell you what is best for you! Except me. Now eat your dinner.'

Even as he entered middle school and started to, 'hang out with the bad crowd', he was still the honor student and good boy at home. He never fought in school, simply kicking their asses afterwards, and took over his neighborhood gang his last year of middle school. His reputation around school was a strange mix as the teacher's all loved him and yet the students who knew of the gangs feared him, knowing him as a cruel boy who's violent ways could leave you in the hospital, yet he never got caught or received a mark on his body. He didn't let his subordinates handle it all, but he just knew when to back off and let them finish it.

This continued for years, him being the good boy at home and school, receiving the praise and adoration of his mother and teachers like he wanted, and running the streets at night, gaining the respect and power over the students by fear. His father was none the wiser, but his mother picked up on it slowly until she followed him one night, knowing good and well what she would find.

As she watched her son beat up a boy she had known since he was born, who lived down the street and had been in her house countless times, who had given her grudging looks in greeting as she waved to him, who she had watched fall easily into the dangerous life that took children young, and had never said her son was also involved in this life or death game, she steeled herself.

She watched as her son's eyes lifted from the bloody mess he left heaped on the ground; as he looked behind him at the other boys who were looking to him for guidence while they jerked their heads towards her. Her son's eyes met hers and she could see the shock go through him, the shirt still clenched in his fist sliding free as he stood, schooling his features into the mask he must showed to his subordinates, because that was how it had to be. Her son would never settle for following when he could be in the lead.

His head jerked to the side. She could only hear his curt tone and see the immediate obedience of the other boys as they walked by her, pretending as if they had seen nothing. And that was when she talked to him, telling him that if this was the path he would take, then he would do it properly. There were schools for fighting, for protecting, even for destroying. She wouldn't let him throw his life away just for a few punks who looked up to him. Even if they were friends. And that was when she saw the anger that he always had inside, the pride in his work that always made him glow happily at her was now a rage as she dismantled all of his work with a few sentances of logic.

He stormed away then, and it was a long while until she spoke to him again. It was during that time that his mask fell, and the scary face he showed to everyone else but her showed. To be honest, she had been afraid of her own son. Afraid that she had gone wrong, that all those times she told him he could do whatever he put his mind to was coming back to bite her in the worst possible way... but eventually he showed her that face again. That happy smiling face, and she wondered if this was that same mask... the mask that had kept her in the dark...

...years later, she discovered it was one of many...

[[I actually posted this a long time ago, but now I'm just making another public post for it. A little background story for Blake, I guess.]]

Traine hadn’t cornered her, really. They had come out of one of the many meetings scheduled for the week. It had been just the two of them, and while that wasn’t unusual, the tenseness during their talks wasn’t something she had experienced in a long time. It concerned her, but before she could ask, he turned to face her. There were so many things that Renee could read in his face and it confused her. She hadn’t even opened her mouth when he leaned down and took her hands, thumbs running over her palms as he looked at them. When hazel eyes met brown, her mouth started to go dry.

“I’ve always thought,” he started, and his voice was soft so it was truly just between them even though no one else was in the room, “that what I felt was mutual. I’ve tried and I’ve waited. I thought that it would take time. I knew it would take time, but I was alright with that.”

He laced his right hand with her left and his fingers played with the ring he had given her what seemed like ages ago. It was a constant presence on her middle finger, so close and yet so far from his goals. He looked at it for a second before his attention went back to her face. “I never demanded an answer, but I always wanted to know.”

She could feel her breath catching as she stared. She felt horrified. Frightened. Sad. Reluctant. He must not have seen it, because he definitely would have reacted. He wouldn’t have kept plowing on if he had known, right? Or maybe this was his final purge…

“I want to know, Renee.” His grip on her tightened a little. “Are you going to force me to watch as Ballantyne steals you away?”

Her eyes got a little wider and her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Traine’s eyes closed and he took in a deep breath. He gave out a half laugh. “You can’t even answer me.”

The red-head lowered their hands between them and gave a pained quirk of his lips that might have been a reassuring smile in another life. She winced as he squeezed down on her fingers that much harder before going slack and letting their fingers slide apart. His eyes diverted and he turned, going to the door with no further comment. He pushed the button and squeezed himself through before the door had a chance to slide open fully and was gone down the hall.

He made it halfway to the reception area before his fist slammed into the wall with an echoing crack. Leaning next to the hole in the wall, he tightened his fist at his side, the pain pulsing up his arm. Ignoring it, Traine pushed from the wall and continued on, reverting to the blank face that they had all learned. Even if she hadn’t meant it, he had gotten his answer.

Renee stared after him as he fled, the door wide open and the last expression on his face burned in her vision. She jumped as she heard the bang and immediately knew what he’d done. She slowly stepped back until she could sink to the edge of her desk. Her hands clasped in front of her, the ring digging into her finger. Her eyes attached to it until she folded forward, eyes squeezed shut as she heard the door close. Forehead on her hands, she wished she could cry.

He had come back a changed man. Almost like a completely new person. The face was the same. Even the way he moved and talked, but the eyes were hollows and the mouth was grim. Blake welcomed his Lieutenant back with -figuratively- open arms, but it didn't seem like the feeling was mutual.

The blonde was polite, of course. Polite to a fault. The kind of politeness you give to someone you despised and just wanted to be rid of as soon as possible. Despite this, everything seemed to go back to normal the next day. The men [and women] were happy to see him and the cold facade seemed to melt. Old faces were keen to catch him up on all the happenings and the new were interested in figuring out the appeal of a man they had never seen but heard plenty about.

Blake simply stepped back. This first day was important. Business as usual would be for tomorrow. His replacement lieutenant was not too far away, and there was a certain amount of bitterness to be had. It had been a year since Blaine had left, and he had come back into his place without so much as a hitch. He would have assured Laurent that things weren't really going to change, but the information was confidential. It would have been done long ago, the splitting of the Blacks into two different units, but Blaine had left, and they couldn't start a new colored squad without a captain.

The relaxed laugh of his former lieutenant echoed as he was regaled with stories. It felt nice to have everything back to normal. It was a brief second when their eyes met, and he was given the familiar smile before the contact was broken. His lip had twitched towards a smile when he heard movement beside him. He looked in time to see the back of Laurent's foot move out the door. He closed his eyes for a moment, debating, before pushing from the wall and moving to follow.

He missed the eyes that came up to smile at him. Missed how they turned a little cold. He never knew how much he would regret not staying by Blaine's side that one time...