This comes from the 64 Damn Prompts on LiveJournal (by rashaka). I will, most likely, be working through all 64, because I can't bear to leave such a lovely thing unfinished. I will also include the song that helped me write it/find inspiration/that I thought fit the mood.

P.S.~ These were supposed to be drabbles—by which I mean 100 words—but my brain exploded, so they are not. Forgive me. (But this one is closer, right? Kinda…more or less…well, not really…)


Prompt 2: Metaphor

Music: How Far We've Come, by Matchbox Twenty


Romeo and Juliet, Gideon thought, was a particularly good metaphor for them. Not that they were overly emotional, hormonal teenagers from warring families who turned to friend-assisted suicide at the first sign of opposition, but…

Well, maybe it wasn't the best metaphor, except for the part about forbidden love. And their love wasn't exactly forbidden, just frowned upon, seeing as Gideon was several hundred years older that Sasha and a good bit more experienced. That would have been the case with any of the eligible sorcerers in the Order, though, and the Powers That Be could hardly expect Sasha to pick a normal human (like that Jessica girl, he inwardly sneered, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was not a normal human and his fear at how she had come dangerously close to securing his fierce, beautiful lover's attention) and be happy with them. Sasha was powerful, and ferocious, and unstoppable, and had more power than any three normal sorcerers combined, and he was Gideon's.

Of course, Gideon himself was brilliant, cunning, sly, witty, handsome, and modest to a fault. It could be equally said that Sasha had him.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Gideon turned his head to look at his lover, lying curled against him in their bed, naked and sweaty and far more beautiful than he really had any right to be. The near-permanent scowl was gone, replaced with a lazy expression that reminded Gideon vaguely of his cat-form shapeshifter friend, Katarina, when she got into a particularly good batch of cream—which should, admittedly, have been a terrifying thought, because Katarina was absolutely terrifying herself, but somehow failed to produce any reaction beyond a contented grumble.

"Must you look so exhausted?" he complained good-naturedly. "I seem to recall that I was the one doing all the work."

Sasha huffed softly, though his languid expression didn't change, and dropped his head back to the pillow. There was the shadow of a smile lurking somewhere around the corners of his mouth. "And I seem to recall that you only did half of it, over an hour ago." Then the maybe-smile faded, and his absinthe-and-aqua eyes turned slightly worried. "Are you all right, Gideon? We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Gideon wondered, distantly, how he could have gotten so lucky. How many lovers would be content to remain a dirty secret, just because their partner was a little nervous? But he wasn't willing to do that to Sasha. They had been hiding for a long time already, ever since the beginning of their relationship after Sasha's seventeenth birthday. Sasha was twenty-five now, in medical school to become a cardiologist, rising like a rocket through the Order's ranks at the same time, and Gideon ached to be able to hold his hand in public, to put an arm around his shoulders and claim him whenever those silly girls stared at him like something edible and available.

He didn't want them to be a secret anymore, and if that meant facing Sasha's father, Thomas (who happened to be Grand Master of the Order), and a possible gruesome death by vivisection, so be it.

With a grin, he wrapped his arms around Sasha's shoulders and rolled so that he was on top, staring down into blue-green eyes that flared with sudden, smoldering heat. "How long do we have?" he asked, his voice growing deeper and huskier, and was delighted to see Sasha shiver at the sound of it.

Pupils dilating, Sasha cleared his throat. "An hour and a half," he whispered, and the words were hard to get out. "More, if we use a spell to get there. You're going to—?"

Gideon's wandering fingers cut off the question, and Sasha moaned into his mouth as their lips met. Gideon fought of his own shiver, feeling the linger wetness inside Sasha from their last round, and how he was so soft and pliant under the sorcerer's hands. Greedy, greedy, greedy, something inside him taunted. Wanting him, possessing him, taking advantage of a child and using him like this. How could you?

I love him, was all Gideon could think in response. He's my everything.


Sasha stared up into the silver eyes that held so much warmth and adoration, so much emotion that he couldn't believe was directed at him. Gideon was the enigmatic genius who had proved a foil to all enemies of the Order, who had overcome banishment and fear and hatred and thrived on the opposition, returning with glory to save every Other in the city from death in the Jinx Wars. And he had chosen Sasha, out of all the people in the world.

Sasha wasn't under any misconceptions about himself; he knew how he looked and how powerful he was, but he also knew his shortcomings. He had a temper, he didn't know when to stop, and he threw himself headlong into suicidal situations that seemed unwinnable. Why anyone would waste time trying to help him, trying to save him, was something he couldn't comprehend. Especially since Gideon was probably the only one who saw him as he actually was—someone young, with more power than they could understand, who needed help no matter how well he seemed to do in single combat with god-beings and monstrous creatures from mortal nightmare.

That, more than anything else, was precious.

Gideon hitched one of his legs up, pulling it around his hip, and they slid together with an ease that Sasha still found somewhat ridiculous, even after all this time. How could any two people be as perfect for each other as they were? It defied all probability, all reason and logic. Nevertheless, he was incredibly grateful for it, for this man who was so warm and wise and wonderful, who kissed him like breathing and filled him perfectly. He gasped out a word that might have been Gideon or might have been more or even move, and arched up as Gideon did so, sliding slick and easy so deep inside him. It wasn't storybook perfect—Sasha was still sore from earlier, and Gideon was breathing a little too hard for it to be incredibly romantic, and they were both too eager (as they almost always were, it seemed) for it to last very long between them. Still, it was them, and Sasha hardly needed to touch himself before he was coming, back arching and eyes fluttering shut, Gideon's name tumbling into the overheated air between them like a prayer. With a groan, Gideon came as well, slumping over him and gasping for breath, muscles quivering in the aftermath.

After a few moments of being crushed into the mattress, Sasha wriggled out from under the heavier sorcerer and rolled his eyes, shoving Gideon to one side and curling up against him with a contented sigh. He flicked a cursory glance at the clock and nearly winced. "We have a bit more than half an hour. Shower?"

Gideon attempted a leer, but it was too exhausted to do much but fall short. "Share it?"

Sasha snorted. "Of course. You'll need me to hold you up, old man."

Rolling over, Gideon levered himself to his feet and stuck out his tongue. "I do not!"

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes again, instead joining the blond in his stagger for the bathroom. "Right, I constantly forget that you're an infantile five-year-old, trapped in a geezer's body. Are we going to my dad's for dinner or not?"

Gideon shuddered. "Don't remind me; I'm pretending that if I ignore my looming death by way of ritual sacrifice, it won't happen."

"Idiot," Sasha said fondly, supporting him into the shower stall.

A moment later, steam whirled out into the cool air, along with the irate demand, "And how come you still look so chipper? I swear, I'm doing all the work!"

The roll of Sasha's eyes was almost as audible as his sigh, and he used the only method he knew to shut up Gideon Caelian: a kiss.

They seemed to be kissing more and more often these days, Sasha reflected.

Not that he minded in the slightest.