Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mine. ❯ Feathered ( Chapter 6 )

Warnings: Yaoi (duh), limeness and citrus in general, Zell… I swear in this fic he needs a warning… Language maybe… I don't know…

 

Pairings: If you can't work it out by now, I'm not going to dignify that by telling you.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 8 or any of its affiliates. I do own this plot and the personalities of Whipcrack, Jirrah and Shir'nis as well as various other side characters which may or may not be in this chapter. I'm not making any money off this fanfiction.

 

Author's Notes: Well, just to make up for last time (and because there's another damn big section in this one which then has another section that follows on…) this chapter is twelve pages, so do enjoy. Oh, and AFF. Net people, I know you're reading this, there is a hit counter, so you better review or I'll let Kiros have his way with you… *ignores the cheers and catcalls*

 

And yeah… /Native speak/.

 

Mine.- KittyMeowMaxwell.

 

Chapter Six - Feathered.

 

How dare they? How dare they waltz onto his people's land and think they could just take from him what was his! How dare they spoil… Ai, ai, ai! Things had been so close. So good, but those damnable men were getting closer. Shir'nis had alerted him to their presence, and he was glad of it, because the last thing he needed was to lose Irvine because of impatience to have him. And if the chocobo hadn't stuck her head in, he would have taken the cowboy then and there.

 

Ah! Yes, it had been so glorious to wake up to his gorgeous new prize experimenting like that. It proved that the cowboy wanted, even if he wasn't aware of what he wanted. Of course, what he wanted was Zell - and really, who wouldn't…? He was such a fine specimen of male health. And he would please his cowboy a thousand times over.

 

Oh, how he wanted to!

 

Zell cast a glance over at Irvine, who's body swayed gracefully with the movements of his chocobo. It was better, now that he was in the loincloth. The native could see the flex of muscles beneath smooth skin, in his thighs and up his sides and along his arms, especially when Whipcrack tried to tug the reins out so he could nip at Shir'nis' feathers. The cowboy tensed slightly, holding him in, and those muscles in his arms drew taught. Zell licked his lips, easily able to imagine what those arms would feel like around him.

 

They moved swiftly, more swiftly, Zell was sure, than the group of four men behind them. They would stop for foolish things such as food. He and Irvine ate while they rode. Zell knew what was safe to eat off the trees and pulled it, then kneed Shir'nis over to share with the cowboy.

 

Irvine clucked at Whipcrack when the chocobo skipped a few steps, trying to impress Shir'nis, then flat out swore at him and whacked him over the head when clucking didn't work. Zell laughed.

 

“/You show him,/” the native said, handing across what passed for their meal. He stayed close, liking when their legs touched. Irvine liked it too, he thought. He hoped. It made the cowboy seem more real, more solid, more his.

 

As the day wore on, Zell taught the cowboy more words, proud of how quickly he was learning. With only the two of them, it was easy to teach him, and he was eager to learn. Thankfully, the topic of him learning Irvine's language never arose. The cowboy seemed to enjoy the lilting flow of Zell's, and truly, it sounded sexy coming from him. Then again, the native reflected with a slow smirk, anything would sound sexy coming from Irvine.

 

“/What's that smile for?/” Irvine wondered, grinning slightly.

 

Because you'll sound delightful when I pleasure you…

 

“/You're beautiful,/” he said, rather than what he thought, and grinned when Irvine blushed slightly.

 

“/Beauty is for she-folk,/” the cowboy replied.

 

Zell snorted and shook his head.

 

“/Different beauty. Not just for she-folk./”

 

Irvine fell silent, and he remained that way until Zell stopped the chocobos so the two of them could stretch their legs and perform necessary bodily functions. He let the cowboy have his privacy, but he wasn't very happy at all when said cowboy returned with his hair tied back.

 

“/Your hair,/” he said, touching the woven grass Irvine had wrapped around it. It was no longer the cowboy's right to choose what he did with his hair…

 

“/It keeps tangling. Riding is difficult with it in my face,/” Irvine explained, then in a lower, shy voice; “/I promise to take it out when we stop. But down is hard./”

 

Zell considered this, eyeing Irvine closely. He could see the logic, even if he didn't like it. He thought the cowboy looked stunning with his hair down, but by the same token, he didn't want the auburn waves to be torn out. He leaned forward, nosing at the soft hair, then moved back again, nodding slightly.

 

“/Alright. Next time, ask me./”

 

Irvine's eyebrows lifted then furrowed at him.

 

“/You can't control everything I do./”

 

“/I can. I do./”

 

Zell looked intently at Irvine, trying to make him understand. The cowboy took a step back, shaking his head.

 

“/You don't./”

 

“/You are mine, Irvine. I can do with you what I wish./”

 

“/No. It doesn't work like that./”

 

Zell showed his teeth, a conscious gesture of intimidation and dominance, and drew himself up. He had given Irvine some leeway, because he was, after all, not used to the rules now set upon him, but outright disobedience simply couldn't be tolerated. The cowboy had no right to so obviously defy him.

 

“/Yes, it works like that,/” he informed Irvine calmly.

 

“/You can't order me around./”

 

“/I can. You are here and you are mine and you will do as told. Hair up is fine for now, but next time, ask first./”

 

Zell had seen the look Irvine cast on him before. He never turned it on his parents, but he had turned it on men of his age, and women too. It was a look that pissed the native off, and had pissed him off from the first moment he ever saw it. The cowboy tilted his head back, chin going up, and he looked down his nose in a manner that clearly said he thought he was above and better than Zell or anything he could do or say.

 

The native peeled back his lips again and his hand flashed up to cup around Irvine's neck, over his shoulder. The cowboy sucked in a breath as Zell's thumb sank into a pressure-point, and he went to his knees against his own volition. (1)

 

“/Don't look like that at me,/” Zell warned him, lifting his chin to meet his eyes.

 

“Z-Zell…”

 

“/Shh. I talk, you listen. You are no longer with own kind. You are with me, and I make rules for you. You are not stupid, Irvine. You know what I want and, I think, you are starting to know what you want. I took you because I want you. Now, I have you and you are mine. A taken,/” He knew by the look on Irvine's face that the cowboy didn't understand that word, but it didn't matter for now. “/A taken listens to his taker,/” Again, Irvine didn't know the word, but Zell assumed he would understand that he meant the cowboy was to listen to him. “/You listen to me./”

 

Irvine swallowed, but nodded, and Zell was desperate to kiss him, but reprimand couldn't come with affection so close on its heels. Not yet, anyway. Though, there were definite advantages to reconciliation after an argument…

 

“/S-Sorry…/” the cowboy whispered after a long few heartbeats, voice unsteady. He was afraid.

 

Zell let his face soften and he drew Irvine back to his feet, stroking his cheek. The cowboy trembled, hands moving meaninglessly around the level of their waists, but he didn't pull away.

 

“/You do what I say, yes, but you gain also. You no longer need worry about anything. I will take care of you, protect you, feed you, clothe you./” He grinned at his cowboy adding; “/And I do not own patch-beasts./”

 

“/What…?/” Irvine's elegant brows furrowed - he didn't know what Zell was talking about.

 

The native frowned as well, trying to work out how to explain himself. He scratched the edge of his ear with a finger, mostly because lifting his arm made his muscles more prominent.

 

“/Patch-beasts… Creatures… you hate./”

 

Still Irvine looked blank. Zell showed his teeth in frustration, then cupped a hand around his mouth.

 

“Mooooo!”

 

Irvine broke into a grin, then burst into a fit of laughter that made Zell blink in confusion. What was funny? That was the sound the patch-beasts made and, if he did say so himself - which he did - he was good at imitating them.

 

“/What?/” he asked of Irvine. “/Why do you laugh?/”

 

“/Because you look funny,/” the cowboy replied, showing Zell the face he had made, eyes wide, hand cupped around his mouth and lips stuck out like an exaggerated kiss.

 

Zell had to grin. The cowboy was right, it did look funny.

 

“/I see./”

 

“/And they're, like, called/ cows.”

 

It was Zell's turn to laugh slightly. The affectation `like', he hadn't thought would remain.

 

“Cows,” Zell said, then nodded. “/But patch-beasts is what they are. Is better way to speak of them./”

 

- - - - - - -

 

He was so arrogant. So certain that his way was the best way and that no one, least of all Irvine, would contradict him. He didn't feel inclined to after the display about his hair. Besides, this time Zell was right. The cowboy didn't know where the hell the word `cow' came from, but `patch-beasts' actually described what a cow looked like. Of course, that would make him a patch-beastboy, which was just stupid.

 

He didn't return to Whipcrack's back until Zell had returned to Shir'nis', which seemed to be the right thing to do, because the native gave a nod of approval. Irvine wondered what Zell had referred to him as when he had said `a something listens to his something'. They had been different words, but only partly. Derivations of the one word, he was sure, but without knowing the one word, he couldn't work out the derivations.

 

He shrugged it off when Whipcrack sauntered after Shir'nis, warbling in the back of his throat in an effort to catch her attention.

 

“For Hyne's sake, will you shut up?” Irvine hissed, shifting on the furs beneath him. Zell had dispensed with the saddle wherever he'd dispensed with Irvine's gun and clothes, and the cowboy was glad of the furs. Without pants, riding bareback would be even more uncomfortable. Especially the way Whipcrack kept trying to dance for Zell's chocobo. At least the native hadn't taken bridle and reins away as well. He wondered, not for the first time, how Shir'nis was so well trained.

 

Irvine blinked in surprise when, just as the sky was turning to gold and the sun was beginning to set, Zell slid free of Shir'nis back and disappeared into the bushes with nothing more than a “/Stay!/” thrown over his shoulder at both the bird and Irvine himself. Shir'nis instantly lowered her head and started to crop at the undergrowth, sifting through grasses and weeds in search of greens or a fat bug. The cowboy stared at the place where Zell had left, marveling at how quickly the native had been gone from view. He let go Whipcrack's reins and allowed the chocobo to follow Shir'nis lead.

 

He thought back to this morning, how it had felt when Zell rolled him onto his back. He felt the same stirring, excitement deep in his belly and twitching between his legs. He thought of Selphie, how she squirmed just so when he touched her right, and knew it matched his own squirming when the native had rolled his hips.

 

It was so… basic. So dominant and claiming a movement - he knew it was, because he often made the same motion against a woman. But he wasn't a woman. That didn't seem to phase Zell. Indeed, the opposite. They both had been as excited as each other after this morning's encounter. Irvine closed his eyes and hooked one ankle up over the junction of Whipcrack's neck and shoulders so he could prop his elbow on it and support his chin in his hand.

 

He realised, suddenly that he had wanted the native to kiss him this morning, and still wanted it now. Pictures of the way the hot water had sluiced off Zell's body as he stepped out of the lake and how the steam had curled around him flashed across Irvine's closed eyelids and that deep, primal stirring coiled in his belly again. Hyne, it felt good. Hot, animal, passionate. He wouldn't need to be restrained, afraid of bruising pale, feminine skin.

 

Vague fantasies captured his half-dozing mind. It wasn't something he had contemplated before, but he wasn't naïve either. He could conjure up pictures good enough to feed the hungry heat low in his belly. He shifted a little, imagining how it would feel to catalogue each of those flexing muscles with his hands instead of his eyes. The idea of Zell's mouth on him was delicious; at his neck, shoulder, chest, nipple, abdomen, navel… lower.

 

“Mmm…” Irvine purred, shifting again.

 

Whipcrack moved on and he swayed easily with the stride out of long familiarity. He knew the chocobo wouldn't stray far from Shir'nis. Then he tripped, making Irvine hiss painfully as the movement jarred certain excited areas against bunched-up furs. Shir'nis looked disdainfully at them, as though she had been set to baby-sit two particularly annoying children. Whipcrack warbled at her.

 

“I don't think it's workin', boy,” the cowboy said sympathetically, patting the golden neck. Whipcrack seemed to sigh and his head lowered. Irvine chuckled. “Never know, if you keep tryin'.”

 

He sighed, wondering to himself why Zell hadn't kissed him yet. He was embarrassed that he wanted just that, but curious as well. He wanted to learn. He wasn't shy of his body, of his reactions, of his hunger for the delightful pastime that was sex. Granted, he considered it the domain of man and woman, but… What Zell wanted was obvious, now. The intense look he cast at Irvine had developed into something hungry, longing. Or maybe it had been that from the start, and the cowboy just wasn't aware of it.

 

It seemed so long since he had laid Selphie down in the hay, hitched up her skirts and made her wriggle, but it was only the day before yesterday. Already, he could speak Zell's language well enough to carry on a conversation. Already, his body told him it had been too long since he last used it. And, generally speaking, he was enough in control to go much longer than two days without intimate company.

 

It was Zell. He knew it was Zell. The native was playing him like a harp, igniting, banking, feeding the fire inside of him. And he was a master of it. He could have Irvine panting with just a look, and the cowboy knew he was aware of that fact - really, how could he not be, so arrogant as he was? But that the native could tug his strings so easily so soon unnerved Irvine. Even he took longer than that to manipulate a woman into thinking the haystack was her idea. The fastest he had ever managed was four days.

 

There was a low whistle and Shir'nis lifted her head, then trotted off. Irvine kneed Whipcrack after her, and they came out of the thick growth into a clearer area. Zell already had a fire burning, and he was sitting examining several feathers like the three in his own hair. Irvine slid off Whipcrack and went to see what Zell was doing, going to his knees beside him.

 

“/Time for you to remember, Cowboy,/” the native said, holding up a feather.

 

Irvine blinked and frowned, cocking his head a little.

 

“/Remember? Remember what?/”

 

“/Will stand no more disrespect from you. Remember your place./”

 

Irvine arched a brow, but Zell had looked away again, stirring a bubbling substance in a clay pot in the fire. He threw in three vibrant deep blue blossoms, and the pale liquid turned the same colour. Into this, he dipped the feather.

 

“/What?/” Irvine wondered, not quite following, but beginning to get some idea.

 

“/Can't claim you yet, without others. Can't mark you./” He indicated the tattoo around his own thigh. “/But can take first step./” He withdrew the feather from the blue concoction and laid it by the fire, presumably to dry, then he turned to look at Irvine, firelight dancing along his face so that his tattoo seemed to crawl there.

 

Irvine swallowed, but he didn't fight when Zell reached behind him to free his hair, running his fingers through the fire-silk until it fell free about the cowboy's shoulders. He reached up, then, and touched the blued feathers in his own hair.

 

“Zell…?”

 

“/Don't be afraid. Nothing any different since the moment I saw you - you've always been mine./”

 

Irvine's eyes widened and he shook his head, scowling at the native.

 

“/No person owns another person./”

 

Zell scoffed, curling his lip slightly, and made a gesture Irvine thought was in the general direction of the town.

 

“/People always own people. Husband owns wife. Wife owns children. Always./”

 

“/A husband doesn't own his wife…/”

 

Both golden brows lifted at that, the native feigning a look of surprise with a patronising air that made Irvine feel about two years old.

 

“/No? Always, husband tells wife to do things. Cook for me, clean for me, work garden, feed children./”

 

“/That's different…/” Irvine muttered, but he knew Zell was right.

 

“/Different? How?/”

 

“/Husbands don't mark wives like cattle./”

 

“/No?/” Zell said again, then lifted his hands, wrapping the forefinger and thumb of his right around the ring finger of his left. “/Gold band. Says wife belongs to husband and husband to wife - wife expects husband to be hers only, same as husband expects of wife. People own people just the same as I own you, just are too stupid and `civilized'/” he sneered the word. “/to say so./”

 

Irvine had run out of arguments.

 

“/You're smart,/” he sighed after several minutes of trying to come up with something else.

 

Zell seemed to like that. He puffed out his chest and ran a hand through the un-spiked hair at his temple. Irvine couldn't help but chuckle ruefully at him. At least he wouldn't have to work too hard to stroke the damn man's ego.

 

“/You're smart to realise that. Would also be smart to obey me./”

 

“/Well, I guess that depends on what you tell me to do./”

 

The native smirked, reaching out to pat Irvine's thigh.

 

“/Fiery hair shows fire inside./”

 

- - - - - - -

 

Fire to burn bright when I make love to you.

 

He didn't say that, though. He meant to make the cowboy wait for that, because he knew he was starting to want it. More than starting, maybe. Irvine's eyes slid more often away from his face, following the lines of his body down to the meager scrap of cloth about his hips. He was certainly having Thoughts.

 

Zell touched the feather lightly to see if it was dried yet, but it was still tacky to his touch so he left it.

 

“/You're not the first one who's, like, said that,/” Irvine murmured and Zell had to pause a moment to remember what it was he'd actually said.

 

“/Who else?/” he wondered, already getting jealous.

 

Irvine shrugged.

 

“/Lots./”

 

Zell grumbled to himself, which made Irvine laugh softly.

 

“/No more. Mine for always,/” Zell told him with no room for argument. He eyed Irvine, waiting for a protest, but the cowboy just sighed and rolled his eyes. Zell could tell he thought otherwise, but it was gratifying that Irvine had at least learned when he ought to keep his thoughts to himself.

 

The native offered Irvine some fresh-cooked meat, which the cowboy took with his thanks and devoured in no time flat. He had a good appetite. Good appetite meant good stamina. Zell grinned and gave him another chunk.

 

“/What do I have to do?/”

 

Zell looked quizzically at Irvine, who was licking his fingers clean of the juices.

 

“Eh?”

 

“/For this… whatever you're going to do./”

 

“/Ah!/” Zell smirked, licking his lips just so he could watch those sky-coloured eyes widen and reflect more firelight. “/Just be still./”

 

Irvine's eyes widened further and Zell reached out to test the feather again. He was pleased to find it dry and he picked it up, shaking excess clumps of dye free of it. He stroked it, un-sticking the barbs from one another until they were back to their usual feathery feel.

 

Irvine was watching him with a wariness that he found highly amusing, head clearly filled with all sorts of strange ideas as to what Zell was going to do.

 

“/Close your eyes,/” he murmured and Irvine hesitated only a moment before doing so, swallowing in the same moment.

 

Some part of him quailed at how much of a production he was making out of so simple and every-day an act - Feathering was impermanent anyway. It merely let everyone else know who was sleeping with who at any given time. There was nothing to stop any other taker from putting his own feather to Irvine's hair. Of course, Irvine didn't know that.

 

Zell grinned and shifted forward to straddle the cowboy's kneeling legs, feeling the twitch in those elegant thighs when he settled upon them. He shifted forward until their hips were flush against one another, then bent, pressing a kiss to the curve of the cowboy's shoulder. Irvine's breath hitched.

 

“Z-Zell…” he whispered hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“/Be still,/” Zell reminded him firmly.

 

Irvine stilled, and Zell could feel his heartbeat where their chests touched. He tested a fang with his tongue and toyed with the idea of biting, marking that way, but discarded it. Not yet. He reached up, brushing most of the cowboy's hair back over his shoulders, then with a strong piece of twine, he fixed the feather just behind Irvine's left ear, the opposite to his own; blatant proclamation that the cowboy was a taken.

 

He drew back and breathed gently across Irvine's lips, watching them part and beg for a kiss. A smirk curved his own lips and he denied it, slipping off and away to settle back down on the grassy ground.

 

Irvine blinked at him.

 

“/But… I… Th-that's it…?/” He sounded disappointed. Good.

 

“/Yes./”

 

Irvine said nothing, fingers coming up to touch the feather in his hair. He sighed and stood, going over to Whipcrack to retrieve some of the furs. It was already beginning to cool down, and they were no longer inside the well-warmed cave.

 

“/I am sorry,/” Zell said as Irvine settled back down, and the cowboy looked askance at him.

 

“/For?/”

 

“/Not finding shelter. My job to make sure you're sheltered./”

 

Irvine smiled shyly, then shook his head.

 

“/That's okay. I'm fine./”

 

The native still wasn't all too happy with himself. It would be harder to leave Irvine out in the middle of nowhere so he could go back and check on the progress of the group searching for them. At least in the cave he had been protected. Jirrah could protect a cave entrance, but one Gayla would never be enough to protect all sides.

 

For the first time since this venture had began, Zell wasn't sure what to do. He knew they would be at least a day ahead of the party, but without backtracking to check, he couldn't know how safe they were. And he needed to rest himself. In this case, it would be better if he had help. But he had something to prove, and he was going to prove it. It would be alright. He could stay with Irvine tonight, and tomorrow they would reach the shelter he was aiming for. It wasn't nearly so good as the previous one, but it would have to do.

 

“Zell…?”

 

“/Yes?/”

 

“/Why me…?/”

 

Zell glanced over at him, watching as he set out the furs for them, then he went over to the cowboy, bringing the Snow Lion pelt around Irvine's shoulders. The cowboy leaned towards him and he gladly slipped an arm around his waist, drawing him in close.

 

“/You're beautiful,/”

 

“/Beauty is for she-folk,/” Irvine reminded him, but he only chuckled.

 

“/Don't understand. Have grown up in life that shelters you from some things. Beautiful in a way she-folk could never have./”

 

Zell ran his hands under the fur, along the curves of Irvine's hips, up his waist and sides, then down his arms, along his thighs.

 

“/Built to be a taken. Delicate, but strong. Supple. Elegant./

 

Irvine dropped his eyes, but Zell could tell he was flattered.

 

“/I'm a what? I can't understand that word./”

 

Zell smirked, then chose his words the best he could to explain.

 

“/When with she-folk, she is taken./”

 

Irvine stared at him.

 

“/You're callin' me she-folk?!/”

 

“/No. Very no. Taken not a word used only for she-folk. Just explaining. When you with a woman, she is taken, you are taker…/” The smirk grew and Zell leaned close, nosing along Irvine's jaw to his ear, then back again, breath whispering across elegant, already parting lips. “/When you are with me… you are taken, I… taker./”

 

Irvine gave a soft, shaking sigh that ended in a tiny sound somewhere between fear and longing. The native ran his palm up the inside of the cowboy's thigh, and Irvine's lips and teeth parted further as he took his breath back in a tiny gasp. That was the reaction Zell had been looking for and a quick tongue dipped gently within the cowboy's mouth, tasting him briefly before the native followed with his lips, capturing Irvine's.

 

The cowboy didn't even flinch, and Zell was proud of him for that.

 

He took a long time over the kiss, making it slow and deep so that Irvine had every chance to examine it - if he could think, that was. After all, it was a particularly good kiss, of course. His hand came up from the cowboy's thigh to his jaw, drawing him further into the kiss, and Zell ran his tongue along the one beneath it, coaxing a response. It didn't take long for his taken to catch on; they were soon both contributing.

 

Irvine made a low sound, like a pleased Torama, and Zell would have smirked were it not for his mouth being occupied in far better pursuits. A hand came to his shoulder, then slid to curl around the back of his neck - a silent don't stop. So he stopped, drawing away from the kiss. Irvine looked at him in a sort of daze, then he surprised Zell by pulling him back again for a hungrier, needier repeat.

 

The native was hard pressed to deny him. Indeed, he indulged the cowboy for a few seconds, tongue plunging within the willing mouth, before he drew himself back under control and pulled away.

 

Irvine licked a lower lip slightly swollen into an almost-pout and offered him a smile he thought could well have been seductive - but it was likely the firelight. Zell swallowed, finding that the stirring deep his belly which was a constant whenever he was near the cowboy worked into a veritable storm. Ai! It took everything he had not to just take what he thought his pretty prize may well be offering him. But he could not let Irvine control this. A little leeway and any taken could be lead to think he had the upper hand, especially one not aware of the proper laws of behaviour.

 

A reminder was certainly in order.

 

“/Lay down,/” he said softly, and knew by the swiftness with which Irvine did as he was told that the cowboy thought certain things were going to occur. No. You aren't in control here, my cowboy. One kiss from you isn't going to have my knees trembling as it does a female. Oh no.

 

He ran a hand down the center of Irvine's body, throat to navel, then back up again, marveling at the smoothness of his skin, and how it turned to honey in the firelight. He truly was a beautiful sight, worthy of Zell.

 

- - - - - - -

 

The native's gaze grew predatory and Irvine's breath hitched at the way it raked his form. Just that look was enough to join the pooling heat between his legs and he shifted, wanting Zell to do something. The kisses weren't enough.

 

“/Be still,/” Zell growled and Irvine stilled, swallowing.

 

The hand stroked down his body again, this time going beyond his navel, but lifting free of his body to ghost over where he most wanted to be touched. The native flicked the loincloth up and Irvine closed his eyes, knowing a blush was creeping across his cheeks.

 

Zell touched a fingertip to the very end, drawing a shaking half-gasp from Irvine, and he held it there until the cowboy finally opened his eyes, eaten alive with curiosity - why wasn't he doing more?!

 

The native met his eyes with a look of pure arrogance and shifted the fingertip gently. A whimper clawed free of Irvine's throat.

 

“/You are a taken. My taken,/” Zell said, then he smirked and took his hands away, using them to tuck the Snow Lion pelt around Irvine's body. “/Sleep now. Dream./”

 

Irvine stared at him, dumbstruck.

 

“/Wh-what… but… I…/”

 

Zell crouched over him, an Alpha, dominant position, and he showed his teeth, lip curling slightly.

 

“/Taken, Irvine. Do as I say. This is Old Law. You follow Old Law, now, and to do so means to follow my wishes. You will remember./” Zell touched the feather in Irvine's hair, then brushed a brief, unfulfilling kiss across his lips before he was gone to sit by the fire.

 

Irvine was silent for a long few moments, then he spoke softly.

 

“/You aren't sleeping here…?/” He indicated the furs, meaning with himself.

 

Zell smiled.

 

“/Am. But not yet. Soon, I will join you. Close your eyes now. Tomorrow, we must travel again./”

 

And Zell left him no option but to obey, because he broke into a low hum that soon became a soft, rhythmic song. Irvine couldn't pick out many words. The lilting nature of the song made it difficult, and he was tired from traveling and… the kisses.

 

He drifted off to sleep with Zell's taste on his lips and his voice in his ears.

 

- - - - - - -

 

(1) Nope. Don't know jack about pressure points…

 

Author's Notes: Wow… Only one footnote… That's surprising. Hope you had fun! I did. *grins*