Gryphons
Chapter Three

Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst
Summary: Dahli sneaks out, and Draephus has an unfortunate run-in.
Notes: The resemblances between Sferkkaa and Earth are intentional. As I said, this story began as a Rocky Horror fic, and we based a lot of Sferkkaan culture on the fact that the Transylvanians seemed very much at home with Earth culture, even if their own was plainly a bit more extreme. Certainly Dr. Frank N. Furter knew a lot about it (No, he does not show up anywhere in this fic, but the name of the ruling family in the original fan fics was indeed ‘Furter’).

So we left in the cheeseball touches, such as laser guns, the fondness for films, rock and roll, (Hot patootie, bless my soul! I really love that rock and roll! – and yes, I know, Eddie was NOT a Transylvanian, he was a delivery guy) and other nonsense. Everything else we pretty much overhauled. The hardest part was coming up with an eco system, since Transylvania was plainly sunless. Hence the concept of plants that fed off of sound energy rather than light.

Thanks again to Vesta for helping overhaul some of the scenes when I was sick.

This chapter has an accompanying illustration by Animama.

“Everything will be all right tonight.
I say everything will be all right tonight.
No one moves, no one talks,
No one thinks, no one walks,
Tonight.”
- David Bowie and Tina Turner.

The girls left the house, walking down the dim streets to Dahli's grandmother's house. The old lady was apparently asleep; the lights were all off and the house was silent. They glanced about for her feralyke, but the mighty beast was nowhere to be seen. As Dahli and Diza made their way over to the garage, they hoped that the bellowing monster did not come flying out of the night to rip them apart seconds before realising who they were.

"Boo?" called Dahli softly. "Boo, come here fellah. Boo!"

"Why `Boo'?" asked Diza.

"Because he likes to leap out at people from behind corners," said Dahli. "Boo!"

They heard panting, and from around a corner stepped a huge shadow, his massive shoulders rising into a hump, great triangular head hanging from a neck as wide as the base of the cinder-block skull. Nocturnal eyes gleamed at them from the shadows.

"Hi Boo," said Dahli, getting down on her knees to greet the animal. The beast lumbered over to her, the dual rows of teeth protruding from a mouth that took up almost all of the head. He snorted in his joy at seeing them, and rubbed his hairless head against Dahli, thumping his tailless hindquarters into her lap. She rubbed his head, making his ears flap comically.

“Who’s a nice ugly feralyke, huh? Who’s a nice ugly ferry-werry?”

Boo snorted and panted, then, as large pets were wont to do, sneezed all over her shirt.

“YUCK! Thanks, Boo.”

Boo sneezed again, then hoisted a leg to scratch, displaying massive, hairless testicles. Dahli looked at Diza.

“It’s a good thing I like him or I could be seriously grimmed-out here right now.”

Diza giggled, and patted Boo’s head. “He can’t help it if he has no class.”

They patted the creature for a few minutes, then, after giving him a hug around his thick neck, Dahli and Diza left Boo to his own devices and entered the garage. There inside, sat the old grey conni. It rested in lumbering, solemn style in the garage, a relic from ages past, stodgy and of ill humour. It was not capable of great speed, but it made up for it in grandiose dignity. A queen in full array was scarcely more pompous than the old grey conni.

Dahli unlocked the door with the spare set of keys she had fished out of Teirra's underwear drawer. Then, with Diza working the brakes and steering, pushed the vehicle down the driveway and onto the road, all under Boo's careful supervision. The conni cruised along slowly at the prodding and heaving of the two girls, who had to push it some distance before they could start the great engine. It rumbled into life without a hitch, and, with its underage drivers at its helm, the girls and the noble old conni set off in search of adventure.

Diza reached out and snapped on the radio, screeching and giggling as she heard The Gryphons. “Gonna be a good night! Oh! I wanted to ask you if you would come with me to the hospital this weekend.”

Dahli snapped her gaze to her best friend. “HOSPITAL?!”

“Oh nothing seeeeer-i-ous,” drawled Diza with her lazy accent. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Remember when we had to go get checked out, see if we were fertile? Got my results. I’m fertile and disease-free. So, I’m donating half my eggs, and the rest I get to keep for me, do whatever I want with them. Even make an omelette. Did you get your results? Maybe we could donate together, then spend the day being waited on hand and foot by all the pretty men.”

Dahli loved Diza, but, for a brief moment, she wanted to choke her. Instead she tightened her hands on the wheel. Finally she spoke.

“I’m not fertile. Even if I were, I can’t have children, I carry at least two of the viruses the Grey Boys set loose in the water.”

Silence fell in the car for a little while. Then Diza said “I’m sorry.” She fidgeted uncomfortably, playing with the piece of paper she held. “But you said you didn’t want children, so, it should be okay.”

“There is a difference between choosing not to have children, and having the choice taken from you,” said Dahli. She glanced at Diza, and could tell her friend was genuinely sorry for her, and relented. “Look just forget it, it’s not your problem. I’ll take you to the hospital, sit with you while you make like a chicken, then eat your bad hospital food and help you fend off the boys.”

Diza smiled. “Thanks.”

“But I ain’t babysitting.”

She laughed. “Well you won’t be asked to baby-sit for a long time. I bet you’ll be sitting for Czamki before me, way he’s falling all over that new girl. That brings the female population in this area up to her, you, me, your sister, your granny…”

“And Atania,” said Dahli. Both sucked in a lungful of air and yelled; “EEEEEEEEYEEEEEEWWW!”

They laughed, and Dahli said “Yeah it’s a regular female population explosion. So what they do they do with the eggs?”

“Make baby Sferkkaans.”

“Well DUH, but you need a Mommy Sferkkaan as well as a Daddy Sferkkaan, unless the articles I’ve read are seriously mistaken. With one woman to every eight hundred men, and not all the women able to bear, that means some poor woman’s gonna be REAL busy.”

“Well they’re making use of some of the technology left behind by the Kyphisians. They have all sorts of stuff for making babies.”

“Yeah,” said Dahli. “Making babies, altering babies, programming babies to grow up and attack specified targets and fight for entertainment purposes…”

“The POINT is,” said Diza, interrupting Dahli before she could work up to a full rant, “they can use the devices to raise NORMAL babies, not Breeds. AND,” at this point Diza began to giggle, “I heard they have an artificial uterus for the guys.”

”NO WAY!” said Dahli, and both screamed with laughter. “Can you imagine Yuri Stracona pregnant? That would be SO sad. He’d look like a barrel impaled on a javelin. He’d spend nine months trapped on his back and bleating.”

“HE’D BE CUTE! He could do twins and a world tour.”

“Diza, much as I admire your devotion to him, have you looked at him? He’s a Breed. He was bred to be pretty: to sing pretty, look pretty, act pretty. He’s pretty. He’s also easily as smart as a wet cardboard tube and probably as tough.”

“Dahli Sandiniti, you’re mean.”

“Why thank you.” Suddenly she gasped, and abruptly slammed on the brakes. They jolted to a stop, Diza bouncing up in her seat and nearly hitting her head on the roof. “THERE HE IS!” yelled Dahli. “Lyrellyn CZim-Relyn. Oh sex on legs, gorgeous, baby I want him, grrrrrrrrrr…..”

Diza giggled, and both watched with hungry eyes the beautiful young man stepping delicately across the road, his long crimson coat with its array of jungle fowl plumage flowing out behind him like the tail of an exotic bird. His complexion was silver-white, and he turned his head to look at the girls from behind an elaborate mask of red and black make up. He gazed back at them, smiling, moving across the street with slow grace. They watched him like predators.

“Baby baby baby I want that oh yes I do,” said Dahli.

“Good luck,” said Diza, “Czamki says he likes boys.”

“What?” said Dahli, “you mean on purpose?” She rolled down her window and stuck her head out. “Come on, Lyrellyn, come to mama!”

He reached the curb and paused. He gazed back at them, smiling, then raised a black-gloved hand to his lips, putting his finger in his mouth and sliding it out suggestively. Then he turned and walked away. They watched him go.

“I don’t care if he does,” said Dahli, “one day I’m going to catch him behind the school and do naughty things to him.” She began following him in the car as he strode along, the long skirts of his coat swaying, his long slender legs, clad in black leather, moving with an easy grace. His boots had heels on them six inches high, made out of glittering and deathly sharp blades. He cast a sidelong look at the girls, then put his head up, pretending not to see them as they followed in the huge grey conni.

“He is SO pretty,” said Dahli. “I heard his mama was a Grey Boy.”

“In that case, she would have to be a Grey Girl,” said Diza. “And don’t let him hear you say that, his daddy is a Bird of Prey.”

“What, for real?” said Dahli, surprised. Diza rolled her eyes.

“Dahli, you should try reading something other than music reviews. Look at him. The coat with the feathers, the red lines in his make-up, the bladed boots, not to mention the big fat capital CZ at the start of his last name. It’s against the law to wear that gear unless you’re a descendant of the old Imperial Houses. You’re looking at a living, breathing piece of history.”

“I hate history. It’s so violent. ‘Here we are, we’re Sferkkaans, we play music and we make pretty things and oh clart we’ve just been invaded by a violent race of highly evolved clart-muffins and beakers.’ It’s depressing.” She stuck her head out the window. “Hey, pretty bird, can I give you a lift?”

Lyrellyn cast a glance at her, amused, then looked away. “My daddy doesn’t like me taking rides from strange girls,” he said airily.

“Oh come on, we’re not strangers, we’re in your math class.”

“I said nothing about not knowing you. I said you were strange.”

Dahli and Diza exchanged glances. Then she stuck her head out the window again. “I’ll show you where the feralyke bit me.”

“NOT interested.”

“Diza’s fertile, I’ll let ya mate with her.”

“DAHLI!”

“Ah, some other time,” said Lyrellyn. “But I’ll give you a kiss if you tell Czamkiar I like him.”

“Done!” Dahli stopped the conni, and Lyrellyn stepped off the curb and over to the vehicle. He leaned in, and gave Dahli a lingering kiss full on the lips. His lipstick tasted of shooberries. Then he laughed, and stepped away, waving.

“Good night Dahli, night Diza.”

“Night,” they said, watching after him. Then they pulled away and continued on to their destination.

***---***

"I'm hungry," Draephus muttered as he staggered out of the studio.

"What?" said Raski.

"I'm hungry," he repeated, stopping to rest against the wall. They had left by a back exit, and stood now in an alley, away from the crowds that Mars and Khandid seemed to love. Yuri would be with Khandid, silently wishing that he was someplace else. Raski and Draephus had decided to leave as quietly as possible.

Draephus closed his eyes and drew in cool spring air. He waited for the wave of dizziness to pass, for the darkness to leave his vision. He thought he might be ill. Raski sighed.

"Come on, old man," he said, taking Draephus' arm and draping it around his neck. "Uncle Raski will feed you and put you to bed. Then we'll find someone to clean that coat of yours."

"The coat's fine," bitched Draephus, allowing Raski to lead him along.

Raski was willing to debate that, but Draephus was volatile right then, and not open to any sort of criticism. He left the subject of the rancid coat alone. Instead, he opened the door for Draephus to get into his vehicle, a sleek little black beast that looked as though it could think. After loading Draephus into the passenger seat, he went to the driver’s side and got in. He started the conni, and they headed into the night. The little black conni slipped along the wet streets, its engine a quiet hum as it navigated the dark, damp lanes.

"Any place you want to go?" Raski asked the slumped figure in the seat.

Draephus was virtually lost in his coat as he sat limp, slouched down. His glasses obscured the part of his face above his collar. The tip of his cigarette poked out, sending up a thin blue plume of smoke. A hat was resting on the dashboard, and Draephus picked it up and put it on his head, creating an illusion that the coat was empty and smoking.

"Wherever," monotoned the coat.

"Want to talk?"

"No." The coat fell silent for a moment, then added, "Later."

"Sure," said Raski. "Hey you like seafood, don't you? I know this place, serves really good food."

"Hate restaurants," droned the coat.

"Well this place is pretty quiet, you'll like it."

The coat said nothing further. Fame hadn't changed Draephus any, mused Raski. Roll back the clock a few years, age the conni, and it would be just like the old days. Even Draephus' coat was the same.

They pulled into the parking lot of the small, waterside restaurant. Lights shone off of the placid seawater. The building was perched on a floating wharf, waves softly lapping at the edges. The building was styled like the house of a seafarer; in fact it had been just that in centuries past. Heavy construction of hardwood and stone had contributed to its longevity, and the old house looked peaceful and inviting.

Raski parked the conni, opening the door and stepping out of the leather-covered interior. Shutting the door, he walked around to Draephus' side and opened the door, watching as the slouched figure began to lean towards him. Draephus half fell out of the vehicle, catching himself and dragging himself to his feet. He looked bleary and distant, not really aware of where he was. Raski knew the distracted look, there was no point trying to draw him out. He'd talk when he was good and ready.

They went inside, Draephus following Raski as they entered, oblivious to the looks his attire received. The host lead them, at Raski's request, to a table far inside, near the fireplace and a large window. Draephus then ordered a noxious distillation called a Kyphisian Brain Surgeon. The host looked downright offended, but went to get the drink. Raski would have rather Draephus didn't have it, but there was no point trying to talk him out of it. He had no desire to risk a run-in with Draephus when he was like this.

"What do you want to eat?" Raski asked, leafing through the lists of food. Draephus slouched in his seat and shrugged, shaking his head. He made no move to pick up the list.

"Hey, they serve shaumaus here. You like dead raw fish on vegetables, don't you?"

Draephus nodded. "Sure." He stared down into the contents of his glass, falling silent once more.

A server came back to take their order. Raski rattled off a list of items for their dinner. He ignored the occasional glances the man was casting at Draephus, who could well have been dead if one was going by appearances. The server took their order and went on his way. Draephus lit another cigarette, and Raski pulled out his own pack, noticing he was halfway through it.

"How many cigarettes does that make for you today?" Raski asked.

Draephus thought, then opened his pack and stared into it. "How many to a pack?"

"Thirty."

Draephus thought again, then, as he put the pack into his pocket, said, "This is my seventy-third."

Raski's throat hurt just thinking about it. "You should stop for the evening."

"Going to make me?"

Raski reached across the table and rummaged in the coat pockets, taking the pack. He put it in his own pocket, then took the cigarette from Draephus' hand and mutilated it. "For the moment, anyway."

`Here it comes,' thought Draephus as Raski moved his chair alongside his own.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Draephus rubbed slowly at his aching shoulders. "I hurt."

"Are you going to need a doctor?"

"No," said Draephus, rubbing at his neck. "I should be all right. I'll just lie up for a few days, the conni was worse off than I was."

Raski nodded. "Just as long as you're all right."

"Fine," droned Draephus. He put one crusty-gloved hand over Raski's face and pushed him away. Raski withdrew to his own space to await the food.

***---***

"How much trinta do you have?" asked Dahli as they parked the mighty grey conni a short ways from the restaurant. Diza pulled her wallet out of her pocket and went through it.

"I've got eight trinta."

"I've got ten," said Dahli. "So let's just order salads and pretend we're tourists."

"Right," said Diza. The two got out of the vehicle, and walked down the road to the wharf on which the restaurant sat. Their boots made light thumping sounds on the solid structure, turning to a muffled pad when they stepped into the building and onto the rug-covered floor.

Their appearance generated immediate interest; the restaurant fell silent, and every pair of eyes was on them. The two smiled and waved, long used to the attention they received for merely being female. The host showed up in moments, and led the two girls to a table, presenting them with lists. He did not offer them wine, they noticed, and, when he left the table, he took the little basket with its small pots of assorted powdered intoxicants with him.

"What does it mean when they leave the prices off of the food?" asked Diza.

"Means if you have to ask, you can't afford it," said Dahli. "Maybe we could just sneak off."

"Nah," said Diza, "it's not going to be more than eighteen trinta for two salads." She put her list down. "I hope." She watched as a server arrived with a tray of drinks and began placing them on the table. “We didn’t order those!” she said.

The server indicated four young men at the bar, and smiled. The two girls stared back, blinking. Then Dahli looked to the server.

“Tell them thanks but we’re not old enough to drink.”

“I know,” said the server. “There’s no alcohol in them.” He smiled and left.

“Well that’s no fun,” muttered Diza. She picked up a glass of something pink and cold, sipping it.

More drinks followed, along with desserts, expensive dishes, and a platter of fiercely expensive shaumaus. The delicate and artfully prepared fish, which came from the clean waters of the furthest parts of the ocean, sat on a silvery plate, dabbed with spices and sitting prettily in a golden marinade. Nothing on the table was in their price range, but that was fine. They were not the ones paying for it.

They ate slowly, lingering over the fine foods, most of which arrived with telicom numbers. The plates began to stack up, and finally a server came to take some of them. Dahli asked him where the washroom was.

"Right down the hall, donselle," he answered. "Just next to the men's room."

***---***

Draephus picked at his meal. He'd managed to eat most of the delicately flavoured fish, but after days of drugs and distillations, his stomach was objecting to the light spices. Raski had eaten his own considerable meal, and was working on dessert, when Draephus got up and began heading for the washrooms. He was going to be sick.

He walked into the men's room, finding only one other person in there, some establishment-type who promptly turned up his nose at the scruffy figure he saw. In a happier mood Draephus would have tried to shove the man down the toilet, but at the moment his only concern was his roiling stomach. He walked into a stall and immediately threw up his fish.

The establishment clart was gone by the time Draephus staggered out of the stall. He wandered over to the sink, removing his shades and turning on the cold water. He rinsed the foul taste out of his mouth, then splashed some of the chilling water onto his face. He drank a little, then decided to put something a little simpler into his stomach than the spiced fish. He dampened his hair, and stared at his bruised face in the mirror. He was acting like a lunatic, and Vesper was still alive, possibly with years to go. What happened when he died? There was still the South Continent, with its beauty, and drug runners, and nib-sized revolutions. He could go back and end his days frying his brains on the mushroom drug and running shipments up to Touskania.

Draephus sipped some more water. He'd been to the South Continent; he had stowed away on a shuttle when he was fifteen. The idea had not been to go to the South Continent, just to get as far away from where he had been as possible. He had ended up further south than most people cared to go, straight into the eerie other-world that even the Kyphisians left alone, save for a few scattered patrols. He had been terrified for his own survival, until he took up with a group of boys around his own age. They taught him how to get by in the strange place he now found himself. From them, he learned how to forage for food in the depths of the jungle, and how to make the deadly pit traps. Draephus had dug a few of those pits when he became a little more serious about his `mushroom exports,' as he called the frequent, quick, and always tense runs into Touskania with a load of drugs derived from the spined fungus.

It was also on the South Continent he had learned to play the drums, or at least to play them in a way he would not have in Second City. He had already been playing for around five years, and by the age of fifteen he was pretty good. When he wasn't tending to his mushrooms or his traps, he would travel the five hours out of the jungle to Touskania, and make his way into the underground city. There he would find the mushroom dens, and the small packs of musicians who gathered there. Musical instruments were not easy to come by, and drums seemed to be the only ones easily available. He would stare at the drummers as their hands flew over the skins, creating twining rhythms that sent the people around them into a leaping, pulsing frenzy of dance. For hours he would watch, then he would slip off into the night, back to his own shack to practice the rhythms he had heard in the city. He had been good, but, left on his own to work and change the rhythms, he soon surpassed mere description.

Draephus stayed on the South Continent for three years, living in seclusion with only his Faylans for company. He called them his, but they did not truly belong to him. They were a tribe of about forty, living in the jungle. It had taken a long time to win their trust, but once he had, they became valuable allies in guarding both him and his mushrooms. He'd grown very fond of all of them, as were most of the drug runners he knew. There was a bond between the runners and Faylans, an almost spiritual joining. The runners relied on them heavily for numerous things, and not just to know what the weather would be. That was an easy trick to learn. On days of impending cold, wet, or rain, they were never to be seen, and only occasionally heard howling to one another across the expanse of trees. The howls would be reflected off the leaves of the amplifier plants that grew wild there; a plant that had learned to cope with the lightless days by absorbing certain sound waves and feeding off of them. But if the day promised to be hot, the Faylans would be there in the yard, faces raised to where they instinctively knew the sun would be, even under the heavy Sferkkaan cloud cover. Then they would sway in the warmth, worshipping a star they could not see on that shadowless planet.

The Faylans also knew if anything was in the dense foliage that shouldn't be, and if there was a Night Stalker within miles, then the Faylans would set up a noise that could be heard straight across the jungle. It gave everyone plenty of time to get underground, and cover their faces with heavy cloths to muffle their breathing, while the large, spider-shaped devices roamed silently by through the trees. The unmanned Kyphisian machines, standing taller than a man, could hear a heart beat, even a breath, and, like most spiders, could fit into virtually any hole. That was why it was important to have enough time to slow one's heart, so it wouldn't be heard racing amongst the other, more calm hearts of the jungle animals. Draephus still saw the Night Stalkers in his nightmares. He saw himself lying in a small hole, a cloth over his face, his eyes squeezed shut as he concentrated on not noticing the deathly silent spiders, poking carefully though the undergrowth.

At the age of eighteen he returned to Second City, which sat perched alone and aloof on its island just off the mainland of the lower North Continent. He returned with almost two million trinta in drug money, an illegal shipment of drums, and a long scruffy coat, the first expensive item he had ever bought. He also arrived with his two favourite Faylans, Bacca and Czanda, they not wanting to stay any longer in the uncertain world of the jungle. They had opted to remain with Draephus, and maintain the watch over him they had been keeping for three years.

Draephus moved himself and his drums into a demolished castle on the actual island part of the city, built centuries before the great floating platforms had been added, and the city enlarged. The castle was little more than ruins with a heritage, but he loved it. He and the Faylans spent many damp, shivering nights in it, undetected by the Kyphisian patrols. Occasionally he would travel into the city, making his way into the Cylinder's lower depths in search of others like himself. He found a handsome young dissident who played the best sepulchord he'd ever heard. Draephus and Raski liked each other from the first time they met, and soon Draephus had moved his drums and Faylans into Raski's shabby flat, where they would be safe from the cold and wet. At first, the two worked together better as musicians than revolutionaries. Raski was all for the New Empire, and fighting the oppressive forces that held reign over their planet. Draephus figured that since the Kyphisians had already been there for so long they should try to forget about them and live their own lives. This made him crashingly unpopular in the mushroom dens, especially with a slight, green-eyed poet named Mars David and a six-foot, eight-inch Breed just back from the Labs named Yuri Stracona. Instead of making them see his point of view, Draephus found himself agreeing with them, and he and his money joined the Revolution.

There were times of relative peace mixed in with the raids and sabotage, when, in the deepest levels of the Cylinder, Draephus and his friends would meet and play their music. Their music quickly became in high demand, but something always seemed to be not quite right, until one night Khandid Stratavarus stepped out of the crowd to play. Tiny, pretty Khandid was at the time earning a decent living infiltrating Kyphisian posts and selling the information he stole to the highest bidder. He also played a pretty good quinticord, and, with him in the group, all the band needed now was a name.

The Gryphons at that point in time were no music group. They were a band of Kyphisian pilots making use of an ancient Sferkkaan symbol. They had gryphons painted on the sides of their warplanes. People seeing the symbol would often come running out of their houses to cheer what they thought were their own pilots, only to find their homes and families suddenly destroyed by a rain of laser fire. It was an easy way for the Grey Boys to find out who the rabble-rousers were.

It was Raski who decided to rig the planes with explosive devices. It seemed to always be Raski who thought of these things, and he was always the first one to volunteer to go out and bomb whatever needed blowing up. He attached the detonators to the aircrafts' engines, so when the pilots started them they would blow up. An easy enough task for the intelligent Jervyas mind, especially when Khandid came home one night with maps of the base. Sure enough, early one morning the Gryphons were no more. The explosion was heard for miles; it was even loud enough to carry down into the mushroom dens. At the sound of the blast, Raski looked up from the laser pistol he was cleaning and said, "Well if they were gryphons before, they're mortified gryphons now."

"Mortified Gryphons," said Khandid musingly. "Wouldn't that be a great name for a music group?"

It was voted out four to one, but somehow it never went away, and when they finally crawled out of the Underground after the Revolution was over, they brought their name and their hoards of subversive followers with them. Six years had gone by since then, and they now had fans all over Sferkkaa, not just Second City any more. They had been rewarded for their work by the Emperor Stratavarus, though none of them wanted much. Draephus couldn't recall what the others had been given, but he had asked for the castle ruins. He'd always wanted a castle. The Emperor was a bit reluctant to give Draephus a ruined building, but if that was what he wanted, then he could take it and enjoy. With the money he already had, Draephus proceeded to rebuild it into a proud symbol of the Sferkkaan past.

‘Funny,’ Draephus thought as he sipped some more of the cold water. ‘Here I am, a hero, a noted musician with money to throw around, friends who love me, and I still feel like clart on the road.’

He washed his face carefully, trying not to irritate his stitches, and gently dried himself with a towel. He looked at himself for a time in the mirror, studying his swollen eyes. Then, putting his shades back on, he headed for the door.

He had almost reached the door when it suddenly flew open, the edge of it striking him square in the face. He staggered back, bringing his hands up over his eyes, and felt the warm stickiness of the blood that flowed from the torn stitches. Dahli stopped a short way inside the room, unaware that she had whacked him, and looked around.

"Oops," she said, "wrong door. Well, good thing nobody's in here." She spun about to leave before her error was discovered, and stopped dead. Draephus slowly lowered his bloodied hands, raising his head to look at her. Dahli brought her own hands up to her mouth in horror, embarrassment, and worst of all, recognition. She had just belted her idol with a door.

He was larger than she thought he would be, and seemed even bigger as he fought between the thought that this was only a stupid accident caused by a young girl, and the notion of just killing her anyway. As his temper cooled and she did not move, he reached for the door handle. Pulling the door open, he motioned for her to leave.

Dahli dropped her hands and shook her head. "No that's okay," she said. "I'll just go drown myself in the toilet." She could feel her cheeks burning; she knew she was red.

He let the door go and reached into his pockets for his cigarettes, remembering Raski had them.

"Don't worry about it," he said. His voice was low, the tone of someone who didn't need to speak loudly. He reached up to remove the shades, peering at the blood on them with a slight scowl on his face. Dahli unfroze, and, grabbing up a towel, she dampened it in the sink. As Draephus moved over to the sink, she wrung out the towel and turned to press it against his bleeding wound. He jerked his head back, fixing her with a suspicious look. Then, he lowered his head to allow her to wipe the blood away.

"I'm really sorry," she said after a moment.

He shifted. "Don't worry about it."

"Well it's not really nice to go hitting people in the face with a door."

"I suppose," he said. He lowered his gaze to the front of her shirt and contemplated it, and Dahli suddenly realised what she was wearing. Across the front of her shirt in glaring yellow letters read `World Tour', and beneath this a monumental Gryphon wreaked havoc on a silhouetted city.

"You could offer me a cigarette," he said, still studying the shirt. "Raski took mine."

Dahli set down the towel and reached into her small purse for her cigarettes and lighter. She gave him one, thinking about what he'd said to Astellis Monct. Deciding not to mention it, she lit the cigarette for him, then dropped the items back into her purse. She was acting coolly enough, but she felt enormously stupid. She was standing in the men's washroom, where anybody could walk in at any time, and she had just clonked Draephus CZimcocious in the face with the door.

"So," he said after a time, "you hang out in the men's washroom of fancy restaurants a lot?"

"I feel so stupid," Dahli muttered. She rinsed the towel out, but sensed Draephus tensing, beginning to object to the face-wiping. "You really whacked yourself," she said, dumping the towel into the laundry hamper.

“I did, huh?” he said dryly.

Dahli felt her cheeks turn redder. Sensing his withdrawal, she backed off a little herself, feeling foolish and embarrassed. She rubbed her hands on the back of her pants to dry them, and was on the verge of slipping out of the room when he re-initiated the conversation.

"Did you see that concert?" he asked, indicating her shirt.

"Yeah, I did," she said, still looking a little crestfallen. "I stole the money off of my sister for tickets, then I had to sneak out of my bedroom window to go to the show. My best friend Diza and I managed to get backstage, but the road crew threw us back into the crowd. But at least that got us into the front row." She glanced up to see that he was smiling at her.

"Was it worth it?"

She smiled back at him. "I thought so."

He turned to the sink and washed the blood from his hands, then from the glasses. He noticed there was a chip in one of the lenses. Dahli noticed this as well, and as he stared irritably at the glasses, she asked casually, "Are you going to throw those out?"

He gave her a bemused sidelong glance, then passed her the glasses. "Here. And don't feel bad, I can't get any uglier any way."

"You're not ugly," said Dahli, taking the glasses. She did not say anything about them, but he noticed the way she folded them into her hand, drawing them close to her chest. "You should eat something, though, you don't look well."

Draephus stared at her for a moment. "That's why I'm here," he said dryly.

Dahli felt like a fool. Never before had she so fully understood the term. "Sorry. Bad habit I have."

"Uh-huh," he said. "Have a few of those myself."

She smiled again. "Thanks for the glasses," she said, almost shyly.

He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a second pair of the glasses. "I always carry a spare," he said, "people keep stealing mine." He carefully set them on his injured face.

"Maybe if you haven't had food in a while you should try soup," said Dahli, "Anything too heavy might make you sick."

He contemplated telling her to šukat off, then nodded. "Okay," he said, "I'll do that." He pulled open the door and stepped back. "After you," he said.

Dahli was about to step out, but paused. He was there, right in front of her, big and mean as life, may as well take advantage of it. “Can I ask a question? The CZ at the start of your name. Who…I mean, what royal house…?”

He shook his head. “No idea. That’s a question lost to the ages.” He laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. “It may not even belong to me. A few families tacked that onto their last names in the hopes it would save them. Fat bloody good it did any of them.”

She nodded, feeling uncomfortable and a little intimidated. She offered him an Imperial salute, then stepped out ahead of him, hearing him snort with amusement. It was as she passed him that she caught her first whiff of the infamous coat. It hadn't occurred to her that it smelled as bad as it looked. She watched him turn off and head back into the depths of the restaurant, while she herself continued on to the women's washroom, still clutching the opaque glasses.

***---***

Raski glanced up as Draephus came over to the table. "Are you all right?"

"Got sick," said Draephus, sitting down. "What's this?" He indicated the food before him, a bowl of clear soup and a small salad.

"I suggested to the server that you may not be feeling too well, and he thought soup would be better than the stuff you had been eating."

"What's with all these people trying to feed me soup?" bitched Draephus.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," said Draephus, "just talking to some young Gryphon-watcher who proceeded to nag me on my eating habits."

"Marry him," said Raski.

"Her.”

“HER?! Where?”

“She's about fifteen, Rask, we’d be doing her and ourselves a bigger favour by leaving her alone." Draephus tried a little of the soup, thinking about the girl he had been talking to. He began to feel a little guilty about the way he had acted.

"I think I was a little nasty to her," he said.

"Tell her that you're sorry you're a clart. Was she pretty?"

"Yeah, I thought so." As he said this, he spotted a young boy with a basket over his arm, dressed in a manner popular with the fisher-folk centuries back. He was the adopted son of the owner, and a part of the atmosphere of the restaurant, supposedly a poor child selling flowers to earn a few trinta for food. Draephus motioned him over.

He approached the table. "Yes?"

"Two bloodflowers, if you have them." said Draephus.

He did, producing two from his basket, passing the red-black flowers bound by lace to him. Draephus paid him for the flowers, the boy then wandering off to another table.

"Pretty," said Raski.

"Yeah," said Draephus. "Got anything I can write on?"

Raski hunted through his wallet. "Let's see. Parking ticket, speeding ticket, business card, parking ticket, dried flower, and half a song written on a piece of newspaper."

"Pass the speeding ticket."

Raski did. "What ya gonna write on it?"

"Nothing until you loan me a pen."

Raski handed him a pen. Draephus took it, staring down at the blank side of the ticket. Finally something came to mind, and the pen began to move across the paper. When he was finished, he returned the pen and folded the paper up, thrusting it into the lace binding the flowers.

"Let's go," he said. He called over a server.

"Yes?"

"There's a young girl, about fifteen, wearing a Mortified Gryphons tour shirt and a pair of dark glasses. I believe she's sitting near the front. Would you give her this?" He passed the server the flowers.

"Certainly." The man took the flowers and left in search of Dahli, while Raski and Draephus took their leave of the place. The server found Dahli with little difficulty.

"Donselle?"

Dahli looked up, the over-sized shades obscuring most of her face. "Yeah?"

"A man in a long coat and wearing dark glasses asked me to give these to you."

Dahli took the flowers, looking about for the giver, not seeing him. "Thanks," she said softly.

"From him?" Diza asked. Dahli had told her the story, and she had been unable to believe it. She craned her neck around to see if she could catch a glimpse of him. "Was Yuri with him?"

"No, I think he was with Raski, he mentioned him." Dahli gingerly took the note from the flowers, not quite believing what she was seeing. She opened it, finding a cartoon on the back of a paper she recognised as a speeding ticket. It was of five small Gryphons on a branch, each one obviously a member of the band, each with his name written next to him in case there was any doubt. There was a tall, skinny Gryphon marked `Yuri', seated next to a tiny one with its mouth open, prattling on mindlessly. This one was marked `Khandi'. The next one, `Mars', stared out of the paper with large blank eyes, head screwed to a silly angle. `Raski' had his mouth opened to the point of obscuring his head, laughing crazily.

The fifth Gryphon sat a ways off by himself, tail around his feet, black circles around his swollen eyes. This one wasn't labelled. Above it was written, "I couldn't think of anything to say so I drew you this stupid cartoon." Draephus had signed his name beneath this.

"Let's see! Let's see!" Diza was practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

Dahli passed her the cartoon, Diza snapping it up and staring at it. "Oh isn't it cute!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," said Dahli, gently caressing the flowers. Raising her eyes, she looked at Diza and said, "I am in shock."

"Why didn't you come and get me?" hissed Diza.

"What was I gonna do? ‘Oh, sorry I whacked you. Hold on a second, I gotta go get Diza’."

"Yeah, okay. Hey, maybe if we hurry, we'll see him in the parking lot."

They ran out of the restaurant just in time to see a black conveyance start into life. The headlights came on, and the machine slowly pulled forward, gathering speed as it moved away, swiftly disappearing down the road.

"Was that them?" asked Diza.

"I don't know," said Dahli, "I think it was."

"Nice conni," said Diza. "Did you see Raski, too?"

"No, just Draephus." The realization of what had occurred suddenly sank in. Brandishing her bloodflowers, glasses on her face, she went running and leaping towards the conni, chanting, "I met Draephus! I met Draephus!"

"Big deal," said Diza, following her.

"I met Draephus!" Dahli sang, landing feet first in a puddle. "I met Draephus!"

"I'm sure he feels much the same," said Diza.

"You're just jealous," said Dahli. "I met Draephus!" She stomped in the puddle again.

"You're right, I am," said Diza.

"Sorry, but I did mention you to him."

"Very High Cylinder of you."

"I thought so," said Dahli. "Come on, let's go to my place, I'm hungry."

"Let me wear the glasses, you have to drive."

They drove the conni back to her grandmother's house, parking it carefully after having to push it back into its place. They said good night to Boo, then ran the last few blocks to Dahli's. They barged through the door, immediately barrelling upstairs to the bedroom.

"Where are you going to put your cartoon?" asked Diza.

Dahli glanced about her room, then walked over to a small book shelf, sitting down before it. She pulled a large book off of the shelf. Opening it, she carefully set the cartoon between its pages, then closed the book once more.

"I can't wait until Teirra sees this!"

"Dahli, you can't show that to Teirra," said Diza. "We'll have to explain what we were doing down at that restaurant. AND how we got there in the first place."

"I have to show someone, Diza, I think I'm going to explode!"

"I'll put on some music," said Diza. She walked over to a cluttered shelf, littered with small tubes. She picked one up, and shook out of it a thin, silver cylinder. Moving over to the small stereo deck on Dahli's dresser, she pushed the cylinder into a slot and then turned up the volume. Moments later The Mortified Gryphons came pouring out, the small amplifier plants on the table angling their leaves in order to absorb the maximum amount of vibration before reflecting it back as sound. The plants had gone an odd shade of indigo from a near-constant diet of Gryphons. Diza tossed the cylinder cover to Dahli. There was a picture of Draephus on it.

"You met him," said Diza.

Dahli snatched up the cover, pressing it to her face and screamed into it, "I did! I did! I did!" She lowered the cover and looked at Diza, her face flushed with excitement. "You know who I am going to tell?"

"Who?"

"Atania Nightwing!" Sucking in great lungfulls of air, both girls bellowed; "EEEEEYYEEEEWWW!"

"But she doesn't like the Gryphons," said Diza. "She only listens to Vortex. And track bands."

Dahli made a face. "Atania listens to track bands? You mean that musical debris you take home and mix yourself, to make it sound like what you want? Eyew, now I hate her even more. But anyway, she'll be sick because I met somebody famous and she didn't."

"Don't let her touch your cartoon, it'll wither up and turn black."

"I won't, I'll just show it to her." Dahli opened the book once more and gazed down at her cartoon. "I'm not going to sleep tonight."

"So what, there's no school tomorrow."

They turned the cylinder up to a mind-numbing level so they could hear it when they ran downstairs to fix themselves something to eat.

***---***

Raski's house would have been silent save for the soft whisper of a receiver in the darkness. The receiver was never off in his home, he couldn't stand the quiet. Raski turned on a light, then adjusted it to a low setting.

As Draephus seated himself on a long, low couch, he suddenly found himself thinking about how not long ago it had been dangerous to enter this house, to enter the domain of Heirrina. When Raski had met Heirrina, he did back flips to get her to notice him. She hated the music he played, and was not interested in having a sepulchord player as a husband. However, Raski had persisted in true Jervyas style. He wrote her ballads and sang them to her over the ‘com when she wouldn't answer the door. He sent her flowers, jewellery, and once a fiercely expensive conveyance. Heirrina's friends all thought she was mad for ignoring him. He was attractive, they said. His hair is too long, she countered. He's famous, they said. No privacy, she said. He's rich, they said...

Heirrina did not have a response to that. While Second City had survived the long years of war relatively untouched and unscathed, the rest of Sferkkaa had not fared nearly so well. A nice house and food enough were little more than hopeless dreams to most of the population. Of course, the first fight Heirrina had with Raski was her violent objection to how much money the band was pumping into rebuilding their shattered homeland. Things did not improve when Raski flat-out refused to stop the funding, and when the other four Gryphons sided with him, she began doing everything in her power to cause a rift. Marrying him was a sure way to cause havoc, and she finally agreed to it. Mars took Draephus aside and asked him what he thought of this. Draephus said he thought it sucked clart, and Mars agreed.

The scatters started shortly after they were married, and the other four Gryphons knew that all was not happy and well when The Rask manifested one day with all of his beautiful thick black hair hacked off. Then Draephus, who had always been welcome in Raski's home, suddenly found that he was no longer. He would find himself being stared at coldly, disapprovingly by Heirrina. When he tried to talk to Raski he found his friend morose, if not snappy. Raski still tried over-hard to please Heirrina, but the fact remained that she hated his lifestyle, she hated his friends, and she never had a kind word for him, or even a tone of voice lower than a scream.

The scat hit the turbine the day Delaes Randerick showed up. Delaes, being a social creature who knew the Gryphons, took it upon himself to throw Mars a birthday party. Delaes' parties were indescribable acts of worship to the great god Indecency. Certainly nothing to be missed in any event, especially not when the guest of honour was a close friend. Heirrina did not want to go, but this time Raski would not take no for an answer, and said he was going with or without her. Heirrina bent and came along, and it was at the party she ran into a man much more to her liking than the horrible Raski. She came home after two days to find her things on the lawn, the lock on the door changed, and a sign on the door reading; ‘Now you won't be bothered by my friends any more. And they won't be bothered by you.’

Raski had begun to feel better once his hair started to grow back.

Draephus stretched out on the expensive couch, Raski seating himself next to him and passing him a drink. He knew Raski had a fair idea of what was bothering him, but was probably more than a little afraid to ask. He also knew he'd find out when his friend was ready to tell him. Raski did not have long to wait.

"Vesper's sick," Draephus said quietly. "The virus has finally become active."

Raski shifted a little uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," he said softly, the words sounding lame and empty in his ears.

"Yeah, me too," said Draephus. He stared into the dark, red-gold contents of his glass. "It's funny, you know, I always knew it would show up, but I thought he and I were used to the idea."

"How is Vesper?"

"He was pretty upset, understandably," said Draephus. "More so than I would have expected from him, he seemed so accustomed to the thought that he was going to die. But like I said, you probably never really get used to the idea."

"No," said Raski, "I suppose you don't." He slipped his long, dark hand into Draephus'. "How are you?"

"Me? I don't know. Tired, sick, depressed. I wrecked my vehicle, wrecked my face, beat up some fellow like it would make a difference. You and I have the opposite problem, Raski. You got something you thought you wanted, and couldn't wait to get rid of, and I got something I wasn't looking for, and don't know how I'll live without."

He almost cried, Raski thought, almost. He'd never seen Draephus cry. He was certain that the last time Draephus had cried, he'd been in diapers. Raski stared at the flagstone floor as his friend finally got a hold of himself, regaining his composure. He was uncomfortable, he didn't know how to react to the situation.

"Perhaps we should both try to get some sleep," Raski said, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, okay," said Draephus. He rose to his feet and crossed the floor to the winding stairs. Stopping partway up, he looked back at Raski.

“You coming?” he asked quietly.

Raski got up and followed after him, the two walking up the curving stair to the upper level, then following the long hall to Raski’s room. They stepped into the large chamber, which seemed silent at first, but then Draephus realized he could hear the vague sound of music coming from someplace. He was not surprised. The war had left them all with strange quirks. Raski couldn’t tolerate silence.

Draephus stopped in the large room, glancing around at the centuries-old wooden panels. Like himself, Raski had a taste for the past, and the calm, dignified refinement of it. He turned to look at his friend, watching as he closed the great wood and gilt doors that boasted Imperial Gryphons. Once the doors had graced the summer palace of a deceased Emperor. Now they were the only thing left of a structure that had survived eight hundred years before its utter annihilation.

Raski stepped across the black marble floor, his movements uncertain, almost cautious. He thought he knew why Draephus asked him to come join him, but he wasn’t quite sure. He approached him, and the two stood close, sensing each other, circling one another like strange animals. Then Draephus gently caught Raski, pulling him close, slowly drawing him against his chest.

“We’ve never done this before,” said Draephus softly.

Raski shook his head, his fine black hair framing his face, his dark skin making his blue-white eyes shine eerily. “Draephus this is so wrong…”

“I know,” said Draephus. “I know. And believe me I don’t want to hurt you or Vesper. I just…”

He gasped, and began to shake, fighting desperately to hold onto his emotions. He felt Raski take him into his arms.

“Draephus,” said Raski softly, “it’s okay to cry you know.”

Draephus shook his head, swallowing back his tears, holding Raski tightly. Then he kissed him as though his survival depended on it, and Raski stopped questioning him. They fell into a pattern that had become so very familiar during the course of their time fighting. It was almost reflexive, and though they had never been with each other, they both knew the steps to this dance, and the reasons. During times of heightened fear, many of the fighters in their circle of friends and acquaintances would huddle together for comfort, often of a sexual nature. It was better to spend what may be one’s last hours alive in an act of passion and comfort, than let one’s nerve turn to raw sewage, rotted away by tension and fear.

Draephus kissed Raski, tasting him, holding him hard against his chest. For a time, Raski tolerated it, but then fought the tightness of the embrace, and Draephus eased his grip. Raski pulled back, gasping.

“Oh, we like to play rough, do we?” said Raski.

“I’m… not good at this.”

Raski looked at him quizzically. Draephus reached out and carefully touched his friend’s face. “Vesper… I dunno. I guess because he’s small and sick, everything has to be a fight with him. To prove he’s not as small and sick as he is. If I want to get on top I almost have to beat him into submission. And… I’ve never…had…anyone other than him.”

Raski grinned, and kissed Draephus. “You don’t have to beat me into submission,” he said softly. “We have all night. Nothing exists outside of this room, or outside of this moment. Tomorrow will never come. We are safe here. And nothing we do has anything to do with the rest of our lives. Tonight is just you and me.”

Draephus smiled slightly, without humour. He kissed Raski again, pulling him close, but carefully this time, as though he really was not sure what he was doing. “Okay.”

Raski kissed him, taking Draephus’ large, scarred hands between his own. His movements were soft, almost submissive, letting Draephus take control of the situation, allowing him to guide him over to the huge, ancient bed. They lay down on the soft, deep mattress, kissing, slowly exploring one another. Draephus opened Raski’s shirt, gently removing it, stroking his hand over the dark, softly shining skin. He kissed his throat, grinning as Raski pressed close, making a soft purring sound of pleasure. Draephus pulled him closer, touching him, kissing him, relishing his gentleness. He wished that, just once, Vesper would relax and let their lovemaking be like this.

Raski just let Draephus take his time, lying back, eyes closed, languishing in the feel of the gentle caresses, the soft kisses, and his scarred hands moving across his skin. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” said Draephus. “It is.”

He undressed Raski slowly, lingering over every part of him, kissing him, tasting him. He slid off his pants, then lowered his head to kiss his lower stomach, breathing in the scent of him. He moved his head, kissing slightly lower, then gave the penis before him an experimental swipe of his tongue. Raski purred with pleasure, and Draephus did it again, slower this time, then took the large member into his mouth.

Raski gasped, shifting beneath him, reaching down to stroke his dark hands over Draephus’ hair. He made a quiet sound of pleasure, moving his hips. The music played faintly in the background, and Draephus couldn’t help but grin when Raski turned it up.

He ran his hands over Raski’s dark skin, stroking him, feeling the muscles, and the occasional scar. There was a huge one across his collarbone, from when a malfunctioning laser pistol had exploded, burning his flesh and breaking the bone. It never healed quite right, but it did not seem to trouble him. Draephus hardly noticed it, far more interested in exploring the beautiful body beneath him. Raski made a soft moan, his body gleaming in shades of black and gold in the subdued light. When had he become so damn beautiful?

They said nothing. There was no need. Raski gently pushed Draephus off, moving to lie across him, their naked bodies moving together fluidly, Draephus’ pale skin showing in stark contrast. They kissed, touching each other, Raski’s long hair falling loose and wild over his broad shoulders. He worked his way down Draephus’ body, then gave him an impish grin before lowering his head to take Draephus’ stiff shaft into his mouth. Draephus clutched the black silk bed covers, tilting his head back and swallowing hard.

Why oh why had they never done this before?

Draephus waited until he was nearly ready to explode before he stopped Raski, gently catching him and drawing him up. He did not want this to end too soon. He drew Raski up to lie beside him, kissing him, wanting just to touch him. His hands roamed over his body, feeling the lines of his muscles, kissing his flesh. It was almost spiritual, just to make love, to touch another body and not have to worry about when the battle would begin between dominance and submission, life and death. It was just the two of them: the rest of the world was gone, and they had all the time the universe could give them.

Draephus didn’t know where the bottle of oil came from, he did not much care. He uncapped it, and poured some out, smelling the rich, musky aroma. He slowly rubbed it between his hands and sniffed, then looked at Raski, who simply tried to look innocent.

“All those times I told you I loved your cologne, it was this?”

Raski giggled, sounding like a demented hyena. Draephus shook his head and smiled, then began smearing the pale golden oil over his friend’s body, stroking him, massaging him, just for the pleasure of feeling his living flesh. He started at his throat, working slowly down, caressing him, touching him, past the shattered clavicle, down over his broad chest, his flat stomach, then taking his hard penis in his large hands, stroking it slowly. Raski made a sound of pure want, and Draephus lowered his head to take it into his mouth once more.

He poured more of the oil into his hands, rubbing it between his palms to warm it, then sliding them underneath Raski, following the line of his hips, down to his buttocks, finally to the hot flesh between them. Still with Raski’s cock in his mouth, he began slowly, teasingly, touching the opening he found, inserting the tip of one long finger into his anus, carefully working it deeper. He remembered vividly how damned much it hurt when Vesper did this; he wasn’t about to do that to Raski. Raski knew four ways to snap a man’s neck. No need to risk a reflexive response.

Raski uttered a small cry of pleasure, moving his hips, thrusting into the wet heat of Draephus’ mouth. He cried out as he felt a second finger join the first, working its way in, then beginning to slowly slide back and forth inside of him.

“I thought you said you were bad at this!”

Draephus grinned, raising his head. “Just…feeling my way around.”

“Ha ha.”

Draephus didn’t lower his head again to take Raski’s wet penis back into his mouth, he was too fascinated watching his friend’s response to the fingers inside of him. He was panting, head flung back, eyes closed, lips parted in pure pleasure. Draephus was sure he had never enjoyed it that much. He stared, almost hypnotized, continuing to pleasure his friend with one hand while he began coating his own stiff cock with the oil. Almost as an afterthought, he withdrew his hand and positioned himself between Raski’s thighs. He placed his hands on his hips, and slowly pushed into him, closing his eyes and gasping as he felt the tight heat envelop him. It was almost too good to be real, and he had to shake himself back to some semblance of sense in order not to forget Raski.

He lay over top of him, and began thrusting into him, feeling Raski’s long legs move up to hold him, letting him penetrate deeper. They kissed, lips parting, tongues meeting, merging. Draephus thrust slowly, languishing over every incredible moment, basking in the peaceful gentleness of it. Outside he could hear the rain start to fall, and Draephus could hear himself speaking to Raski, but he had not the faintest idea what he was saying. It didn’t matter anyway.

His orgasm seemed to start somewhere in the pit of his gut, and shot out like an overwhelming explosion of pleasure. He heard himself scream, thrusting deep into Raski, the peace of their coupling broken as both hit their climax. Raski rolled violently, and they both fell off the bed, neither caring as they clutched one another and bit, faint touches of blood mingling with sweat and oil. Draephus thrust into Raski, feeling the other man’s semen splash hot and wet onto his body. He cried out, emptying himself utterly into him, and, for one eternal moment, both were silent, shuddering as the feeling slowly, finally, passed. Eventually, they relaxed, and finally separated. Draephus withdrew himself, and collapsed to the floor like a dying animal, coughing.

“You okay?” asked Raski, sitting up.

Draephus hacked out a spray of blood. “Dandy.”

“Come on, old man, let’s get you off the floor.”

They managed to crawl onto the bed and under the covers, moving into each other’s arms. Draephus continued to cough, finally managing to get himself under control. He kissed Raski, stroking the damp and tangled black hair.

“I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Raski kissed him, then snuggled close. Draephus coughed explosively one last time, then reached for the drawer in the side table, opening it and rummaging around. Raski raised his head.

“And just WHAT are you looking for?”

“Cigarettes.”

Raski rolled his eyes. Draephus hauled out a fistful of pamphlets and looked at them. Raski promptly took them away from him before he got a good look, rolling over to stash them in the drawer in the table on his side of the bed.

“What are those?”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go smoke something.”

Draephus lit a cigarette. “Rask you know I’ll just read them the first chance I get.”

“It’s nothing to do with you. You’re turning into Khandi, he’s nosy too. DRAEPHUS!”

Draephus simply pinned Raski down to the bed with his weight, reaching for the drawer and pulling the pamphlets out to look at them, while Raski tried to shove his large friend off him. Finally he gave up and simply glared at him. Draephus drew the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled a blue cloud.

“This is all about that experimental artificial embryo environment crap. Rask, why are you reading up on this clart, it’s all Grey Boy technology. Who was thinking about getting this thing installed?”

Raski yanked away the pamphlets and tossed them back into the drawer. “Me. But you don’t have to talk me out of it, I don’t qualify.”

Draephus looked down at his friend quizzically. “You wanted a baby?”

“No, I married the first woman who came along for no reason at all.”

“Raski I didn’t know that. Hey what do you mean you don’t qualify?”

“Get OFF you oaf, I can’t breathe.”

Draephus moved off Raski, and watched as he sat up, rumpled and gleaming. “I don’t want to talk about it. Okay? The doctor took one look at my blood and threw me out of the clinic. Any child I fathered would be riddled with birth defects, they’re sure as hell not going to let one slosh around in my guts in an artificial environment for nine months, so I don’t need to be interrogated about it, okay?”

Draephus was shocked and hurt at the defensive tone of Raski’s voice. “Well, what makes you so sure I would have talked you out of it?”

Raski crossed his arms and fixed Draephus with a look, and Draephus conceded the point. “Okay, I don’t think anyone in this band has any business making babies, not with our history. But, this clearly meant a lot to you, and… I’m sorry we won’t get a chance to make fun of you when you blow up into an off-balanced hormonal eating machine.”

“Thank you.”

“Who did you want to father it?”

“Who the hell else? You.”

“ME?! WHY IN THE NAME OF THE NEW EMPIRE ME?!”

Raski shrugged, and said quietly: “Because you’re my friend.”

Draephus stared back at Raski, jaw open, just gaping in shock. Then he put his arms around him and pulled him close, burying his face into the heavy mane of black hair. For a long time, the two just held each other, saying nothing.

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw