Title: Sleight of Hand 3/14
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Series: Of Old Mystics, sequel to Smoke and Mirrors
Summary: It's behind the scenes where things get complicated.

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess for betaing :) Feel better, Wesleysgirl! This is the third story in the Of Old Mystics series; previous stories in the series can be found http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html.

The door opened the slightest crack, and Ethan's voice was heard to say, "You can come in now, but keep your eyes closed."

"Are you going to blindfold me for the entire evening?" Rupert asked, as he walked back into their rundown home, eyes obligingly closed.

The other boy giggled, and Rupert felt Ethan's hand on his arm, guiding him. He was released in what he judged must be the centre of their open-plan flat, which was a grand way of describing the single large room they'd been sharing since they decided to move in together a couple of months earlier.

Ethan seemed to move away, then said in a low purr, "Open them, my dear." Rupert did as he was bid and looked around until he spotted his lover.

Ethan was made-up, of course. He always was when they were going out. But the face Ethan now wore was very different from his usual cosmetic style. Instead of glitter and fantasy, Ethan had opted for a look of sensual sophistication. But Rupert was too distracted by the rest of Ethan's body to appraise his face further.

The boy was wearing a skin-tight satin dress -- *the* short scarlet dress which Rupert had chosen for him earlier -- which showed every undulation or bump of the boy's body. It fairly obvious that there was nothing worn underneath it except the sheer nylon stockings covering Ethan's long legs. He was tottering on strappy high heels, his long curls seemed particularly sleek, and his nails seemed to have mysteriously grown before being painted a deep wine red.

The equally dark red lips opened and in a low voice, Ethan asked, "Well?"

Rupert stared. When they'd first discussed this, when he'd first dared Ethan to do this, he'd expected... well, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. He was certain that this wasn't it, however. The dress, the tights, the heels, all of it should have looked absurd, ridiculous...

It didn't. It looked -- Ethan looked -- stunning. He was still very much and every inch Ethan, but the dress, tights and heels all seemed perfectly natural on him. He looked as comfortable in them as he did in his usual togs.

Maybe Rupert should have expected it -- Ethan was always Ethan, no matter his surroundings or accoutrements.

"You look wonderful," Rupert finally managed.

Ethan wriggled, seeming to enjoy the praise as if Rupert were physically stroking him. He stalked over and played the flat of his polished nails over Rupert's lips. "The heels are taking a little getting used to," he confessed, still talking in that low sultry tone. "But this feels strangely right. Will you be proud to be seen with me, my dear?"

"Always." Rupert meant it; there were some things about Ethan that shone through no matter what face he chose to show the world -- a lust for life and indomitable spirit that Rupert couldn't imagine not wanting by his side.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand to Ethan with a courtly bow.

With his typical smirk exaggerated by his dark lips, Ethan placed his long-nailed hand into Rupert's. "I think we shall."

They headed out.

Ethan managed to walk on the thin heels with elegance and good posture, despite his concerns. The extra inches meant that he was notably taller than Rupert, and far taller than most of the women that they passed as they promenaded along the pavement together. Despite the long hair, natural grace, makeup, and dress -- or maybe *because* of the dress which left little to the imagination -- Ethan was obviously male to any but the most casual glances. He drew many turned heads and muttered comments as people passed by.

Rupert glared back at the ones who were most blatant in their disapproval, silently daring them to repeat their comments or approach Ethan or himself; none of them did. He always felt protective of Ethan when they were out -- something that Ethan was constantly going out of his way to encourage -- but this was different. Ethan was out with him dressed like this, made up like this, because Rupert had dared him to -- asked him to. He wasn't going to let his lover suffer because of it.

"Do you know?" Ethan asked casually, "I think I rather fancy going dancing."

Unbidden, Rupert's imagination supplied pictures of how Ethan's usual sensual style of moving to the music would look in his current outfit, causing the expected physical reaction. "I think," he said, voice suddenly husky, "I'd fancy that too."

Ethan glanced at Rupert, perhaps hearing the desire in his voice, and smiled seductively from under his brow. "We could go to the Gatehouse," he suggested, naming a popular disco venue that they would normally both avoid like the proverbial plague.

"I thought you wanted to dance, not go to the fights," Rupert replied dryly.

Another sly glance was directed in Rupert's direction. "I just thought I could show all the Rimmel-counter girls there how it should be done. You choose though, my dear. This night's for you."

"Then how about the Roundabout?" Rupert suggested, naming a club they frequented that was a bit more accepting of those not quite fitting the straight and narrow path.

"Certainly," Ethan said agreeably. He held up his free hand as they walked, studying it. "These nails make me want to be wicked, Rupert."

"You always want to be wicked," Rupert told him. Ethan flexed his nails at Rupert, making a noise not unlike the yowl of a wildcat. The sound sent a tiny shiver down Rupert's spine, and he stopped, pulling Ethan against him. "Keep that up, and the only place we'll be going is back home. To bed."

Ethan moved sinuously against Rupert, swinging his hips in a slow rhythm. "But I want to dance, my dear. You said I could." He slowly licked his lower lip and then pouted. It was a deliberately provocative display, and Ethan seemed quite oblivious to the gawking stares it was engendering from passers by.

Rupert groaned, his own hips moving instinctively with Ethan's. "You're not helping your argument," he pointed out.

The satin of the dress slid under Rupert's hands as Ethan slow-danced to an inaudible tune. "I suppose I should stop then," he said, grinning.

"Unless you want me to shag you right here in the middle of the street, yes." He paused. "No, I'm not going to shag you in the middle of the street, before you ask."

"You know me so well," Ethan laughed. He separated himself from Rupert and took the older boy's hand again. "Onto the Roundabout then..." Ethan looked down at himself and laughed louder. "Oh God, I'm going to get arrested."

"That's why we're going to the Roundabout instead of the Gatehouse," Rupert said, as they started walking again. "To avoid getting arrested."

The Roundabout was only a couple more streets away, and they made it there without further incident. It was relatively dark inside, and while Rupert strongly suspected there were no other men in dresses there, it was at least full of glam-rockers, and Ethan wasn't likely to do more than turn heads.

There was a song by T-Rex playing, one of Ethan's favourites, and as soon as they were through the door, Rupert found himself being dragged onto the dance floor. He went willingly enough, although he wasn't in Ethan's class when it came to dancing. Ethan had the ability to completely lose himself in the music, letting it carry him along in a way that Rupert had never been able to manage.

Ethan immediately raised his arms above his head and started to move in a decidedly sexual arse-twitching rhythm. He didn't move his gaze from Rupert's, his lips pursed in a kind of pouting smile and his general attitude provocative and challenging. Marc Bolan's somewhat surreal lyrics seemed to be talking for Rupert as he watched his lover. Dirty sweet; that was Ethan tonight.

Rupert was usually content to stand back and watch Ethan move -- bewitching the others on the dance floor and making himself the centre of attention -- but not tonight. Tonight, Rupert didn't want to share. Rupert moved close to his lover, sliding his hands around Ethan's waist, letting the movement of Ethan's hips guide his own.

The music changed to something with a slow disco beat, and Ethan slowly dropped his arms down from above his head to loop loosely around Rupert's neck. His dance slowed to the new rhythm, the sways of his hips becoming smoother and more sensual. His eyes, glittering under the flashing lights, held Rupert far more tightly than his hands.

They drew him in, pulling Rupert closer, until he just had to cover Ethan's lips with his own.

Ethan's mouth tasted of lipstick and tobacco, and kissing Rupert wantonly in no way stopped or even paused Ethan's dance. But it did mean he was now moving directly against Rupert's body, rubbing the smooth, slinky satin all over the older boy.

Rupert groaned, briefly closing his eyes the better to focus on the sensations. "We're not going to be here long," he warned, already wanting to drag Ethan back to their flat and fuck him through the mattress.

"A few more songs?" Ethan purred into Rupert's ear. He was clearly really enjoying himself.

"A few more songs," Rupert agreed, unable to ruin his lover's fun. "Or at least as long as I can control myself," he added wryly.

Grinning, Ethan made an attempt to stop moving quite so stimulatingly against Rupert. It lasted as long as the song did. As the infectious beat of the next number began, Ethan's hips, almost as if of their own accord, started to move in time once more.

He lifted his arms again, and slowly began to turn within Rupert's, until his twitching arse was pressing against Rupert, rubbing from side to side.

Rupert's fingers tightened their grip Ethan's waist, whether to encourage or discourage the movements, he wasn't entirely sure. Mostly, he decided, he was just hanging on for the ride.

Ethan tossed his hair back, getting it out of his eyes presumably, and Rupert found himself with a face full of scented curls.

"Right," Rupert said, leaning forward to speak directly into Ethan's ear. "Last song. Then we're going."

Ethan turned back to face Rupert, pouting. Rupert expected a petulant complaint, but instead Ethan grinned evilly, his teeth glinting in the strobe currently playing over them. He slid his taloned hand between their bodies to cup the front of Rupert's jeans.

Rupert caught his breath, and finally pulled away, reaching down to grab Ethan's hand and pull him with him as he moved off the dance floor.

It was far from the first time he'd dragged Ethan from a dance floor in the six months or so they'd been together, and Rupert was sure it wouldn't be the last. He pulled his lover outside where Ethan more or less collapsed against the wall, trying to heave breath in between fits of giggles.

"I... I can't... can't run... in these bloody things!" he gasped.

"Can you fuck in them?" Rupert asked in a low, husky voice, as he pinned Ethan against the wall, grinding his hips against his lover. He'd given up on the idea of getting home; now all he wanted was a dark corner in a backstreet somewhere.

That sobered Ethan quickly. He moaned and thrust his own hips forward to meet Rupert. "Yes, I'm quite certain I can manage that," he said breathily.

"Not here, you two," said the deep voice of the bouncer on the door, clearly not caring much, just doing his job. "Try the alley down the side of Burtons," he added with a chuckle.

Rupert reluctantly pulled away, keeping Ethan's hand in his as they headed off to find said dark alley. "You make me lose my mind," Rupert accused, although there wasn't much heat behind it.

"I'll keep it safe," Ethan promised, trotting along in his heels, trying to keep up with the urgent pace of Rupert's stride.

Burtons was a little way up the road and took them past the Wig and Fidget, a notorious rocker pub. Even in his lust-fogged state, Rupert knew there would be trouble, as soon as he saw the small crowd of bikers outside on the pavement.

Rupert slowed his pace, pulling Ethan to his side and added a bit of a swagger to his own walk, doing everything he could to put out 'you don't want to mess with me' vibes.

In situations like this before, Ethan had been known to deliberately provoke violence, getting off on Rupert's ability to protect him, but somehow even he had the sense to just walk the walk and not talk the talk here. There was feeling from the leather-jacketed gang of danger and malice. Rupert wouldn't have been at all surprised to hear that this particular group of Hell's Angels lived up to their reputation as active devil-worshippers.

All of which made for a sense of deliverance when Rupert and Ethan emerged through the congregation unscathed. The gang's conversation had fallen silent, and each head had turned to watch Ethan, but not a word had been said, and no move against the pair had been taken.

Rupert allowed himself a small sigh of relief when they were out of the immediate vicinity. "Thank you," he said softly to Ethan, acknowledging that his lover hadn't aggravated the situation for once.

"I know our limits, Rupert," Ethan replied, equally softly.

By the time they reached the corner of Burtons, they were well away from the malevolent crowd. Rupert was considering changing his mind and taking them both home for a more comfortable experience, but Ethan, having apparently returned to his state of irrepressible joi de vivre, giggled and tugged Rupert into the alleyway.

"Must do what the nice bouncer told us, my dear," he said.

"Ethan, I don't think--" Rupert began, but was cut off by Ethan kissing him.

Maintaining the kiss, Ethan slowly backed them into the alley. He was moving as if dancing again, his hips slowly sashaying, his body undulating against Rupert's.

Rupert's resistance quickly crumbled under Ethan's seductive movements, and he took charge, pushing Ethan against the wall, back in the shadows. "You make me lose my mind," he growled again, before devouring Ethan's mouth and grinding his hips against his lover's.

"It's good for you," Ethan gasped, when his mouth was briefly free again. He'd pushed his hands up under Rupert's jacket and now dragged his polished nails down the length of Rupert's back, the thin cotton t-shirt doing nothing much to protect Rupert's skin from the talons.

Rupert hissed at the sudden sting and pushed Ethan against the wall harder. Reaching down, he grabbed Ethan's wrists, pulling his arms above his head and pinning them against the brick wall. "You're being wicked," Rupert observed.

Ethan grinned hungrily. "Punish me then," he offered, still swinging his hips to a slow, unheard beat.

"And just how should I do that?" Keeping Ethan's wrists pinned with one hand, Rupert slowly slid his other hand down Ethan's body, teasing the both of them, finally ending with it covering Ethan's cock.

Ethan stilled, his chest heaving somewhat with passion, his painted mouth open. "This feels more like a reward so far," he chuckled.

Rupert grinned and deliberately moved his hand away.

Whimpering, Ethan tried to push his hips towards the errant hand. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"You're not," Rupert said, leaning in and teasing Ethan's lips with his own.

"We could make-believe I was?" Ethan suggested. Apparently realising the pointlessness of trying to pursue Rupert's lips while held like this, Ethan instead balanced on one foot and drew a stockinged thigh up the older boy's leg.

Rupert chuckled, still teasing Ethan with an almost kiss. "Like I said, wicked."

"If 'sorry' won't work, how about 'please'?" Ethan's leg wrapped around Rupert's arse, trying to pull him closer.

"Begging would be acceptable," Rupert said, allowing Ethan to pull him flush against him.

"Please sir, can I have some more?" It was said with a smirk and a grinding of hips.

Rupert laughed again, the sound deep and throaty. "You're no innocent orphan tyke." He did some hip grinding of his own.

Ethan dropped the smirk and looked at Rupert from under his brow, his gaze intense, and his tone when he spoke was hungry and not at all humble, but definitely sincere. "Please kiss me, Rupert. Please fuck me. I need you. Please."

This was one of the things that had so caught Rupert right from the beginning. Ethan kept himself so walled off from the world; his outrageous airs and appearance were all a form of misdirection and sleight of hand to keep the world from seeing how little he did share. But Ethan let Rupert see behind all of that; Ethan, who didn't need anyone, needed him. That was a heady aphrodisiac.

Murmuring, "Yes," Rupert leaned in and ravaged Ethan's mouth.

Ethan groaned and writhed between Rupert and the wall, his cock a hard lump beneath the satin and his arms tugging at Rupert's grip on his wrists. "God," he gasped, when his mouth was briefly freed. "Yes. God, yes."

Rupert let go of Ethan's wrists with a muttered, "Keep them there," and dropped both of his hands down to Ethan's waist. The skirt of the dress was tight, and it was going to take slow, careful tugging to get it up out of the way without tearing the fabric.

"Rip it, Rupert," Ethan said urgently, his hands still obediently above his head. "I can nick another."

"But it wouldn't be this one," Rupert said, logically. "I like this one."

He'd worked the fabric up to Ethan's hips when he felt the other boy tense up, Ethan's hands slowly dropping. One look at the expression on Ethan's face was enough to immediately cull Rupert's ardour. He whirled around, only to find himself flying sideways and into the rubbish sacks and bins at the end of the alleyway.

The sudden impact stunned Rupert and the world went away for a few seconds, but he managed -- barely -- to keep hold of consciousness.

There were voices. Ethan was saying, "Hmm, hello boys," and despite the bravado, Rupert could hear his lover was scared. Very scared. "You are rather interr-- no!"

Rupert tried to force himself to move; Ethan was in danger.

"Now just what the fuck d'you think you are, girlie-boy?" asked a rough voice.

"He's pretty enough," said another. "Got a hole same as any bitch. I say we have some fun."

"Always said you were a fucking poof, Terry. Still, you got a point. This hair real, you reckon?"

"Ow! Yes, it's quite real, thank you." Ethan again. "Would you mind terribly moving that hand, Jerry, Terry, or whoever you are?"

"Yeah, I'll move it alright." The voice chuckled, and Rupert heard Ethan bite back a gasp.

Enough was enough. He *had* to move. Forcing himself to turn around, Rupert dragged himself up to his feet, his head clearing as rage filled him from what he saw. Five of the bikers they'd passed earlier were surrounding Ethan, pawing him, and by the look on Ethan's face, hurting him.

Rupert reacted on instinct, taking several steps forward, but stopping when it became clear that there was no way he could get them all far enough away from Ethan fast enough to prevent retaliation. No physical way at least. Fortunately, he wasn't restricted to merely the physical.

He'd never done this particular spell before, but the words flowed from his lips with no hesitation and the energies twisted and gathered under his will with eager speed. When the last word was uttered, he tossed the first ball of power at the pillock who was actually touching Ethan, throwing him back to the edge of the alley. Before the others could react, he'd sent four more balls of power in quick succession, sending them sprawling as well.

Rupert had just enough time to check Ethan was still in one piece before he was being rushed from all sides, the Hell's Angels recovering from the magic attack with the speed that only the drunk, or more likely drugged, could.

Two of the bastards grabbed him and slammed him back into a wall, winding him. A third grinned and hefted a knife towards Rupert's gut. He couldn't see the other two, but he suspected with a sinking feeling that they were after Ethan again.

Using the restraining hold that the two bastards had on him as leverage, Rupert lifted his feet off the ground and kicked out, blocking the stabbing motion coming his way and hearing the satisfying sound of bones snapping in the git's wrist from the blow.

The knife clattered to the tarmac.

>From one side, Rupert heard, "Fuck it! You little bitch!" and then a hard smacking noise. He spared a glance and took in Ethan lying sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the nose and mouth, a biker standing over him. The man's face sported long red claw marks across one eye, and his boot was raised to kick. "You'll pay for that, you queer cunt."

Rupert lost it.

It was like a red mist descended over his vision. He ceased to think, becoming merely a bundle of instincts and violence, a veritable whirlwind of punching, biting, kicking. Flesh gave, bones broke under his fists and feet, blood spurted, and bodies went down around him.

He didn't spend much attention on them once they did, save to make sure they *stayed* down. His attention, his ire, his violence, was focused on the one who had made Ethan bleed.

Rupert was going to make *him* bleed.

The tosser was viciously kicking Ethan when Rupert got to him, his lover curled into a protective ball on the ground. "Fucking boy-whore! I can't see out of this frigging eye now, you little shit-eater!"

When the bastard pulled his foot back to kick again, Rupert grabbed his leg and jerked it upward viciously, sending him sprawling. Then Rupert started kicking *him*.

The arsehole didn't stand a chance and was soon curled up, much like Ethan had been. Ethan however, Rupert was highly relieved to see, had unrolled enough to be watching him with big eyes. His face was a mess of makeup, tears and blood.

Which only infuriated Rupert more. Again and again, he pulled his foot back and kicked the bastard. He could feel ribs giving under his assault and could imagine internal organs bruising and bleeding, and such thoughts only made him more vicious.

This was what the bastard had wanted to do to Ethan; this was what Rupert was going to do to him.

A hand caught hold of his. Ethan had somehow managed to struggle to his feet and was pulling at Rupert, trying to move him away from the stricken biker. "You're going to kill him, Rupert," Ethan said in a weak, breathless voice, spitting out blood. "And while I'd find that idea highly pleasurable in the immediate, it would hurt you in the long run. So please don't."

Rupert stared at his lover for a long moment, then finally nodded. He kicked the bastard one more time, then stepped away. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said to Ethan, sliding an arm around his lover's waist to help support him.

"Yes," Ethan agreed, leaning heavily on Rupert as they made their way out of the backstreet. "There's a fifth one somewhere." Ethan was half bent over and holding himself around his middle. "I need a safe place to restore myself somewhat."

"We're not that far from home," Rupert said, turning them in that direction. "Can you... do you want me to carry you?"

Ethan didn't answer directly. "I think some of my ribs are broken and maybe worse internally. The bastard didn't hold back. Nothing I can't heal with magic."

Wordlessly, Rupert stopped, shifted his grip, and picked Ethan up. "I'm torn between taking you to Casualty and going back to take it out of those pillocks' hides some more."

Gasping as he was lifted, Ethan then said in a reedy voice, "Neither, my dear. Just get me to where I can invoke power safely. This will take several layers of enspelling to restore." He made a small sound which Rupert eventually realised was meant to be a laugh. "Then we can curse them if you fancy it."

Rupert walked as quickly as he could, consciously trying to keep his gait smooth to avoid jarring Ethan anymore than absolutely necessary. He hated seeing Ethan like this, hated even more that it was because he hadn't protected Ethan like he'd promised.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly.

"What on earth for? None of that was your fault. Mine plausibly..."

"I told you when we first discussed you going out like this that I would protect you." Rupert grimaced with guilt. "I wasn't much of a protector."

"Rupert..." Ethan stirred painfully in his arms. "You were magnificent. I've... oh. You were a force of sodding nature. And all for me. God, if I didn't feel like... well, like I've had seven barrels of shit kicked out of me, I'd be showing you very clearly how... how incredible you were. And are."

"I wasn't incredible enough -- if I was, you wouldn't be feeling like you've had seven barrels of shit kicked out of you. I should've been faster. I should've-- "

"Oh, do shut up, dearheart." Ethan laughed, then groaned in pain. Growing serious again, he added. "If anyone other than you had been with me, I would have been gang-raped and left for dead by now. You are just going to have to live with the fact of your heroism."

With an odd mix of guilt and possessiveness, Rupert said, "You wouldn't have been in that alley with anyone but me."

Ethan sighed, but said nothing more, and the rest of the journey home was silent. Rupert had to put him down to open the door, but then lifted and carried Ethan to the bed inside, wincing as noises of pain came from his lover's swollen mouth.

Ethan turned to look at Rupert from the pillow. "I'm going to be fine, dear. Just need a few moments."

Rupert gently brushed a hand against Ethan's cheek, then straightened. "I'll get some things to help clean you up," he said softly, willing himself to believe Ethan's words. He'd give him the requested few moments at least before he allowed himself to worry.

Rupert went into their small bathroom, the only part of the flat kept separate from the rest, and collected together what they had in the way of first aid supplies, which really wasn't up to the task. When he returned to the main room, however, he could feel the power in the air.

Ethan was lying on the bed with his eyes shut, mumbling Latin. His body was twitching, and when Rupert got closer, he was able to observe with sick fascination as the huge and darkening bruises on Ethan's bare arms -- resulting from his lover's attempts to protect his body from the kicks -- started to fade and disappear.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched, but was careful not to disturb Ethan's concentration.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out on Ethan as he continued, but he was smiling, as if enjoying the use of power. Despite both their ability with magic, their experimentation together so far had been rather low key, and Rupert had never seen -- or felt -- his lover employ magic on such a scale before.

Rupert got caught up in watching and feeling this new side of his lover, Ethan's power making his skin tingle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It felt different from Rupert's own magic, seeming more sharp and prickly, but it was Ethan's and it was healing him, and that was what was important.

Ethan's eyes opened and met Rupert's. For a few moments, the dark eyes were swirling with red, but then they cleared. "There. That's sorted then," he said, grinning. "Never felt better."

"You're amazing," Rupert said, the words heartfelt, He reached for Ethan's hand.

Ethan squeezed his hand. "Thanks, but no. You're the amazing one. Really, you are. I suppose I must look a bit of a fright, otherwise I'd present you with an argument you couldn't deny."

"That at least I can do something about." Rupert picked up the damp cloth he'd got from the bathroom with the first aid supplies and slowly began cleaning the blood, dirt and ruined makeup off his lover's face.

Ethan closed his eyes and let himself be tended to. "You should have seen yourself, Rupert," he said happily, almost dreamily. "You moved so fast, each blow deadly accurate. I've really never seen anything like it. God, if I hadn't been playing my role of maiden in distress a little too well at the time, I would have been so very aroused, just watching you."

"I don't like seeing you get hurt," Rupert said, finding himself a little embarrassed at Ethan's praise.

"Almost worth it, to see you in action," Ethan replied. "And you did that for me." He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Rupert, repeating in a low intense tone, "You did it for me."

Rupert felt like he could fall into Ethan's dark eyes and never climb out. "I said I'd protect you," he said, dropping the cloth and caressing his lover's face with light fingers. But the words didn't seem quite right so he tried again.

"You're mine. I protect what's mine."

Ethan's eyes flickered briefly shut again. "I like being yours," he said, and it was easy to tell Ethan was understating strong emotions. He turned towards Rupert's fingers, kissing them.

"I rather like it too," Rupert replied, sliding his hand back into Ethan's hair, and leaning over to kiss him lingeringly. "I should've cut their balls off for daring to touch you."

A shiver ran through Ethan, and he smiled delightedly. He raised a taloned hand to Rupert's face. "You make me feel like I'm... sacred."

Rupert met Ethan's gaze. "You are," he said simply. "To me."

He could feel Ethan's hand tremble a little. "Rupert?"

"Yes, love?"

Ethan's eyes seemed to flicker with the red of his earlier magic. His voice was low. "Would you do me inestimable favour of fucking me so hard I can't remember that anyone else ever touched me? Fuck me clean of them?"

Rupert was hit with the conflicting desires to be as gentle as he could, treating Ethan like he was something priceless and breakable, and the desire to fuck him through the mattress. He compromised between the two, stretching his full length out on top of his lover, but kissing him gently with all the reverence one should hold for something sacred.

Ethan was quickly moaning, but with what sounded more like frustration than passion. He thrust his hips up at Rupert. "*Hard*, Rupert. Please. Hard and roug h. I need... purification." He slid his hands under Rupert's shirt and scraped those hard nails down his back again, as if in way of encouragement.

Hissing at the pain, Rupert instinctively grabbed Ethan's arms, pulling his hands away roughly.

"That's right." Ethan grinned hungrily, wrapping his calves around Rupert's. "Make me yours again."

Arousal surged through Rupert at Ethan's look, Ethan's words, and he pushed Ethan's hands into the pillows over his head, leaning in to devour his mouth, all gentleness gone.

Now Ethan's moans were clearly of passion. He writhed, the movements lacking the co-ordination of his earlier silent dancing, and tried to move his legs further up Rupert's, but was hampered by his tight skirt.

Rupert slid one hand down to help move the skirt out of the way, but their positions, Ethan's writhing, and the tightness of the fabric, stymied his efforts. Growling, Rupert got hold of the edge of the skirt and yanked, ripping it up the seam.

Half-gasping, half-laughing, Ethan moved his legs to curl around Rupert's waist. "Now you've torn it!" he joked.

"Any complaints?" Rupert asked, rocking his hips hard against Ethan.

"God, none." Ethan shoved himself up against Rupert's jeans, inviting him to come and play. "Rip the sodding thing all you want. I like you violent, Rupert; you know that. Like when you ripped into those bastards for me just now." He smiled greedily. "You're my ripper."

Rupert barked laughter at the idea. "Just don't call me Jack," he growled, stealing another kiss and ripping Ethan's skirt even higher.

Ethan laughed and threw his head back into the pillow. "Just Ripper," he panted. "Need you, Ripper. Need you now."

Beginning to feel as desperate as his lover, Rupert pulled away long enough to fumble in the box on their bedside tea chest for lube. Having found it, he looked back at Ethan and took in the sight of his lover, sprawled wantonly on the bed. Messed up hair and smudged kohl, a dirty torn dress and laddered stockings, a look of intense lust in the dark eyes -- Rupert wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ethan look more desirable.

"God, I want you," he groaned, opening the lube and preparing them both as quickly as he could.

"I'm yours to take," Ethan said, making little whimpering noises whenever he was touched.

"Yes." The word came out as a growl as Rupert pushed into his lover's body. "Mine."

With a guttural groan, Ethan shut his eyes. "This is all for you. Oh. No one else gets to have this."

Rupert watched Ethan's face as he fucked him, feeling the wonder he always did when they got this far -- not so much the sex, but the connection, the way that Ethan would suddenly just open up for him and let him see, let him in...

"Mine," he repeated, knowing that in that moment it was true -- he had Ethan in a way that no one else'd had, or ever would.

The dark eyes opened and met his, Ethan's expression unreadable. "It's a deal, you know, Rupert," he said, groaning then as something particularly powerful shot through him.

Rupert thrust harder, wanting, needing to get closer, to get more of Ethan. "What is?" he managed to gasp.

"Me being yours," Ethan said through gritted teeth as he was jerked up the bed an inch at a time by the power of Rupert's thrusts. "God, so good..."

"Oh." Rupert thrust even harder, thinking becoming more difficult as he began to lose himself in the act. "Yes, mine. Deal."

"You get to... have me... the real me... oh." Ethan struggled to keep speaking through the breath-stealing onslaught. "But you have... to be my... Ripper in return."

Yes. To have Ethan as his, to be Ethan's in return -- to be what Ethan needed him to be -- that's what he wanted. Shifting position, he pulled Ethan up, until his lover was in his lap and he could reach Ethan's mouth.

"Deal," Ripper breathed, before kissing Ethan senseless.

NEXT