Gatti cursed softly as he squelched through the mud behind his lord. He'd just polished his boots this morning; now they were covered almost to his knees in sticky brown slime. The all-day rain had finally stopped but there was a thick mist this evening; the second's hair was plastered onto his head and drops of water were dripping down the sides of his face. He scowled as he looked ahead, past one red-armored shoulder: the bar Dilandau was taking them to was still a good two blocks off. He just had to go out tonight, Gatti thought darkly, then smiled slightly. Who was he kidding? To have this time alone with him! They would sit and drink, just the two of them, and he could admire him when he wasn't looking, take in the silvery hair and beautiful, pale features, his heart speeding up at the thought that he and he alone had him, now and tonight.
A carriage splashed by, curving close enough to cover him in muddy water, and Gatti cursed again, louder this time, his hand instantly on his katana hilt as he glared into the gloom where the vehicle had disappeared. Then he snapped to attention: his lord had turned about and was staring at him. Of course the water had missed him, he thought sourly, noting the red armor gleaming in the softened moons' light, not a splash marring the ghostly-white face and silver hair. He suppressed a scowl as Dilandau slowly smirked.
"What's the matter, Second in Command?" he asked. "Don't like getting dirty?" Gatti opened his mouth to reply and Dilandau launched himself at him, shoving him back and using the push to keep himself on his feet. The second crashed onto his back, cold, wet mud sliding down under his collar as he slid backwards, liquid slime smearing into his pants and armored uniform. Bastard! he inwardly screamed as Dilandau tipped back his head and laughed. Gatti snarled and jerked to his knees, scooping up a handful of mud and throwing it right at that laughing face, grinning fiercely as it caught his lord completely unawares. Dilandau staggered back, his gloved hands clawing the dirt from his face, then he charged forward with a scream of pure rage. Gatti gasped, terror paralyzing him for a moment before he jumped to his feet, just in time to be thrown onto his back once again. Water splashed up in high sheets as Dilandau landed upon him, clutching his throat as they slid further down the road.
"Bastard! Bastard!" the warlord was shouting but his grip on his throat wasn't that tight. Gatti wrenched himself around, using the slippery mud to twist their bodies about until his lord was underneath him, ignoring the pressure on his windpipe, grabbing more mud to rub into the silver hair. Dilandau snarled, the red eyes blazing as he tightened his grasp, then he suddenly let go and punched him across the jaw, knocking him to one side. He was upon him in an instant, the muddied features twisted in true fury this time, and Gatti gasped, terror ripping through him again. Then Dilandau suddenly threw back his head and laughed.
"I've never seen you look so," he grinned, running a mud-slimed glove through his second's hair. "I like it." The fingers in his hair tightened into a grip as Dilandau lowered his face to kiss him; apprehension stabbed him - they were out in the open! But the mist was all about them, concealing them from view; Gatti closed his eyes as their lips met, his own gloved hands coming up to grip the armored shoulders. Desire pulsed through him as he opened his mouth, felt his lord's tongue slide inside him; he moaned softly. Then Dilandau pulled away from him. Gatti opened his eyes to see him smiling.
"You taste like mud," the warlord commented and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Forgive me, my lord," he said, embarrassed. Dilandau laughed again, then reached down and stroked his lower lip.
"Let's return to the Vione," he said as he got off him, twin flames of desire now in the great red eyes. Gatti's blood froze: return, like this? Someone would see them - how could they not - covered in mud like two barbarians. Or little children. His lord was looking down at him, frowning now, his desire swiftly turning into anger. Gatti thought fast: it was nearing last lights out; if he could delay their return none of the Slayers would see them. But how to delay: he gritted his teeth even as his blush deepened. The mist was thicker now; the late evening air cooler than before. To all intents and purposes, they were invisible, from even a meter away.
Dilandau was scowling at him now - a bad sign. Gatti propped himself up on his elbows and smiled, ruthlessly shutting out the muted sounds of the village about them. No one was going to see him like this.
"Why do we need to go anywhere?" he asked. Dilandau blinked, then smirked.
"Well, well, well," he said softly, kneeling down beside him and putting his hands on his armored chest, pushing him back down, into the mud. "Who would've guessed it?" Gatti tried not to shudder as the slimed gloves undid his jacket; he stared up into the mist-blurred moons above him, gasping as the cool evening air hit his exposed, shirted chest. Dilandau laughed, very softly.
"Don't make a sound, Gatti!" he ordered quietly as he straddled his middle. "Someone will hear!" Gatti looked back to see him draw his dagger from the sheath in his sleeve. Dilandau smiled and slipped the warmed steel beneath his undershirt, slicing through the rough fabric as he drew the razor-sharp edge up to his neck, grinning as he lifted his chin to avoid the point. The warlord sheathed the dagger and paused, his muddy gloves poised over his second's bare chest, staring down at him, the red eyes alight with malicious glee.
"My lord," Gatti whispered pleadingly. Dilandau smirked, then drew off his gloves and put his warm hands upon him; he nearly gasped in relief. He reached up and unfastened the red armored jacket, then slipped off his own gloves and took hold of the loose lavender undershirt, pulling his lord down as he raised himself up to meet the pale lips, his blood now pounding through his veins. He heard the muted sound of a carriage approaching and he stiffened; Dilandau grasped his face, kissing him fiercely and he forgot everything, everything but that demanding mouth and tongue, the smooth, soft skin of his lord's chest overlaying the firm muscles. He kissed him urgently back, caressing his sides, his hands slipping about his back as he felt those long fingers running lines of fire down his chest and stomach, towards his now-throbbing erection.
Suddenly they were deluged with a huge splash of water; the carriage rattling, creaking, clopping by in an explosion of discordant sound. Gatti cried out, starting convulsively even as one hand flew up to his lord's chest and the other grasped his katana hilt, meaning to push him behind him and confront the danger. Dilandau snarled, grabbing his wrists and stopping his actions.
"God, Gatti!" he growled. "Relax." The second stared into the glowing red eyes for a moment, then forced himself to let go of his sword.
"Forgive me, my lord," he replied, looking away, cursing his idiocy as a new blush heated his cheeks. He felt Dilandau move slightly, tilting his head up to gaze at the moons.
"It's past last lights out," Dilandau said and looked back down at him. "Can we return to the Vione now, Second-in-Command?" Gatti's mouth dropped open, then he snapped it shut, feeling his blush deepen. So much for fooling him, he thought sourly.
"Hai, my lord," he replied, watching the familiar smirk twist the pale lips.
"You can be soooo pathetic, Gatti," Dilandau said and got lightly off him. Gatti scowled and jerked to his feet, fastening up his jacket, uncaring of the mud that slimed his fingers. Bastard. Dilandau's smirk grew as he watched him, then the warlord suddenly stepped up and caught him in his arms, pressing against his muddy jacket as he gazed down at him.
"I like that, too," he said and kissed him.
THE END