raith_rogue

Thomas had given Robin some space after helping him get free of Lara's clutches. As amazing as the sex itself would have been, and Thomas had no doubt that it had, it had also been against his will, with the intent to break his will, in fact. And that wouldn't be easily moved beyond, especially by Robin.

But there was giving him space, and there was being ignored by him. When nearly the entire week had passed, and Robin hadn't called, hadn't texted, hadn't stopped by, Thomas decided he'd had enough space. Ignoring what had happened wouldn't fix things, and neither would ignoring him.

He passed off his last appointment of the day to Monique when she had a cancellation and drove directly to Robin's car lot, knowing that was the most likely place to catch him. He pulled his sleek white sportscar into one of the empty spaces in front of the building, looking around the lot for Robin as he pulled in.

Thomas hadn't thought much of it when he hadn't been able to get ahold of Robin right away. The two of them spent a lot of time together, but it's not like they were an item or anything. They both had lives and did other things, too, now that no one was actively trying to kill Robin.

And then he had to go to the NeverNever and play faithful servant to Lea again, so it was probably best that Robin was busy elsewhere. He was gone for a day and a half, and when he returned, there was still no word from Robin, though. Not so much as a voicemail. That was when he started to worry a little. The little became a lot when he tried calling Robin at work and was told the puck hadn't been in for two days and no one had heard from him. Robin might blow off a dinner date if something better came up, might get distracted and not show up at Thomas' place for a couple of nights, but he wouldn't miss work with no explanation whatsoever. Robin loved two things: sex and money.

He went to Robin's place first, and let himself in after Robin didn't answer repeated pounding on the door. Nothing looked out of place, there was no sign of a struggle--but it also felt like no one had been here recently. He couldn't say why, it just felt like it hadn't been lived in for at least a few days. It didn't give Thomas any leads, though, so he left and started working his way through the places he knew Robin went with any kind of regularity to ask if anyone had seen him recently.

After his fifth or sixth dead end, and quickly running out of options that didn't involve going to Harry and begging for help yet again, he wandered the streets for a while, trying to think of what to do next. When he passed a coffee shop he hesitated and then slipped inside to get something hot to drink. He probably didn't need the caffeine, but he didn't care at that point.

Thomas showed up at Harry's door the morning after they'd faced Robin's assassins with coffee and donuts. It wasn't going to be enough to mollify his brother once he found out about the deal Thomas had made, but he had to start somewhere. He knocked with his elbow, hands too full of coffee and baked goods to use his key, and then just prayed that Molly wouldn't be the one to answer.

Molly didn't answer, though it was questionable whether Thomas would recognize the Harry who did. While he was never the best looking guy in the room, in the hours after Thomas's disappearance into the NeverNever, personal hygiene hadn't exactly been a priority. His hair was limp and greasy, and there was shaggy growth of beard covering his face. Upon seeing Thomas, a flurry of emotions passed over his face.

"There better be a crueller in there."

Thomas wrinkled his nose at Harry's disheveled appearance and stepped inside, pushing the bag at Harry. "Of course. I know better than to show up without a greasy, fried peace offering after disappearing on you," he said quietly. "Sorry if you were worried."

Harry took the bag and snorted lightly as he shut the door behind them. "My brother escaping into the Nevernever with a wounded wild fae. Why would I be worried?"

"I said I was sorry." Thomas set the drink holder on the counter and pulled his own coffee free of it. "I had to do something, he was going to die. And he's a puck, you can stop calling him fae." Even though he sort of was.

"So he's not dead?" Harry glanced at Thomas as he dug into the bag. The donuts were even still warm, and he stuffed half of a crueller into his mouth greedily.

"Nope. Completely cured," Thomas answered, not looking at Harry as he said it, keeping very interested in the coffee.

Which could only mean one thing. "What'd it cost you?"

Thomas's lips thinned. "I had to make a deal with Lea."

Harry choked on his donut. "You what?"

"He was bleeding out in my arms, Harry! I had no choice!" Thomas ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath.

It wasn't as though Harry hadn't been there himself. He swallowed the chunk of donut that seemed to go dry in his throat, and glanced at his brother before picking up his own coffee. "What did you have to promise?"

Thomas made sure Harry didn't have a mouthful of coffee; he didn't want to be sprayed with hot liquid when Harry choked at the next part. "...My service for a year and a day," he mumbled, tracing his finger nervously around the edge of the plastic lid on his coffee.

Harry's gaze sharpened immediately. "Tell me you're joking." The coffee and donuts were laid on the table as he moved into Thomas's space. "Thomas. Tell me you're joking. Tell me you didn't actually pledge yourself to her."

Thomas didn't meet Harry's eyes, even when he moved in close. "I get to stay here. And she can't make me hurt you, do anything to you. That was part of the deal," he said quietly.

"Yeah, there's no way around that," Harry muttered, pacing away angrily.

"It'll be okay, Harry," Thomas said quietly. "I'll just serve my time, run a few errands for her, and then it'll be over."

"Right."

Harry stopped and shot Thomas a look. He was still fuming--furious. But he couldn't pin down why. It wasn't just that Thomas had made a deal with Lea.

Thomas gave him a pleading look, turning to face him. "It's temporary. A year? That's nothing. It'll fly by. You'll see." He'd expected the anger, but that didn't make it any more bearable.

Harry's response was a skeptical snort, and then quiet.

"You shouldn't have made the deal," he said finally. "It's not worth it."

It was Thomas' turn to be silent. "...It is to me," he replied at last, his voice low.

"Then there's nothing to say." There was a hard edge to Harry's voice that he didn't recognize. "Thanks for the breakfast. You know where the door is."

Thomas looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Harry...please," he said in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.

"What?"

Thomas' shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "Nothing." He turned and grabbed the doorknob, pulling the door open to go as requested. "You know where to find me when you're ready to talk to me again." The if he refused to think. When. It had to be when. Being indebted to Lea, that price he was willing to pay for Robin's life. Losing Harry? That he wasn't willing to do, would not do.

He just needed time. Thomas hoped.

Harry watched Thomas turn to go, and shook his head, scrubbed his face. "If I know Lea, you'll see me sooner than that."

"I told you," Thomas said quietly, not turning back around. "She can't make me touch you."

Except that there were more ways to hurt Harry than a direct assault. "That doesn't mean she can't make you hurt me."

But Thomas had specifically worded it, made sure that he couldn't hurt Harry. He was pretty sure he had. Of course he had, that had been an important detail. "It won't happen," he repeated firmly, then reached to pull the door closed behind him.

Thomas went to the spot they’d been shown on the miniature Kin in Harry’s basement, forcing himself to stay in the car until Harry arrived, because a man in a leather jacket that maybe bulged here and there pacing in front of a random building was a good way to draw attention, and that was the last thing they needed right now.

The beautiful man in the leather jacket was joined by another, not so beautiful man in a leather jacket. Harry’s pockets didn’t bulge, but the handle of his blasting rod stuck out of one. His hand was curled around his staff, fingers decorated with bright metal rings and his wrists were wrapped with criss-crossed leather straps--not for the purposes of fashion. The rings charged kinetic energy, giving him a “turbo charge” of firepower when channelled. The leather was also imprinted with protective sigils designed to shield or repel certain energies, including Fae.

Thomas nodded curtly at Harry, game face in place as he climbed out of the car and headed for the nearby alleyway. “Let’s go,” he said, cool and calm--until the very fabric of space ripped open before he could even tell Harry to do it. He looked over at his brother. “Did you do that?”

“...no.”

His hand tightened around his staff, watching the portal warily.

Willy was the first to come through the portal, and as he came into view a small, dusky-skinned woman stepped out from the shadows, her eyes fixed on the puck as he followed Willy through.

“Ah, hello my friend,” Willy greeted the woman, not entirely sincerely but with a big, fake smile. “Have you been waiting long? As you can see, he is quite safe with me as promised.”

“Yes, you have performed admirably, thank you,” Seraglio replied, not moving from where she stood.

“Then I return him to your care.” Willy bowed with a flourish and stepped back through the glowing portal, drawing it closed behind him.

“What the fuck? Robin!” Thomas called as the fae disappeared back into the Nevernever. The six people that stepped out to flank Seraglio, each with a weapon drawn and ready, stopped his movement before he’d taken more than a step toward Robin.

Robin and Willy had not been drinking for that long - or at least, to Robin it had not felt like that long - when Willy had suggested they return to the world at large, and Robin had somewhat reluctantly agreed. He was pleasantly drunk but not sloshed - not enough to cause much of a delay between registering the identity of who awaited him on this side of the portal, and putting the pieces finally together.

He’d been expecting this, after all. Not her. But this.

What he was confused about was Thomas’ presence here, even though the surprise in his voice reeked of coincidence. Robin wanted to bitch slap the universe for that one. If he’d been a wizard he would have held up a hand and thrown him clear across the street. As it was, he settled for completely ignoring him.

“Seraglio,” he said, and could practically hear the resignation in his own voice.

“Tammuz,” she said, and inclined her head. “Herdsman. Pan. Oh, our God. Our never forgotten, fleeing God.” She smiled, and it was beautiful and terrible. “How we have missed you.”

Harry had immediately been on the defensive upon seeing Willy. So much for a neutral party, he thought, wryly. When the fae disappeared he turned his attention to the woman holding the gun. And then the six men who appeared behind her. He glanced at Thomas, then Robin. “You pretended to be a god?” he asked, incredulously.

“Like you’ve never given a fake name?” Robin said. Breezy. Trying to ignore the cold twisting of guilt in his chest.

“You knew,” Thomas said quietly to Robin, keeping his gaze on the seven figures pointing guns at them. “You knew who it was and wouldn’t say.” But even as he made the accusation, he slid closer to Robin, a united front. Guns would slow him down, but he could probably take a few of them out on his own before he fell. It might not be enough.

Despite Robin’s intention to ignore Thomas, two words escaped him: “Not who.” And with the barest hint of betrayal in his tone. Because, damn it all, he’d liked his housekeeper. He’d damned near respected her, which was more than he could say for most people. He looked at her, ignoring Thomas and Harry again. “I’d ask what you want, but I’m sure I already know.”

"The Banu Zadeh tribe does not forget slights, no matter how old,” Seraglio said, watching him intently with cold eyes. “No matter how many thousands of years pass... the slight of a god is a shame to a people that cannot be forgiven or forgotten.”

She too was holding a gun, and her finger tightened on the trigger. “Babylon is no more. Our tribe has dwindled...” She gestured to the men with guns. “To what you see before you. And we have you to thank for that. Because you deserted us!” Her voice became a hiss. “The sickness came, and the fury of the mightiest storm the desert had ever seen. Within months, half the tribe was dead. You took your presence, your protection... and now we are all but gone from the world. Because of you. But.” Her smile returned. “The ancestors you spared have allowed their descendants to claim vengeance. We are all that are left, but I think it will be enough.”

Harry moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Thomas, and clenched his fingers into his fist, drawing his energy. “Robin’s harder to kill than he looks,” he offered, helpfully.

“And he’s not alone,” Thomas added, drawing his cavalry saber smoothly.

Robin shot Thomas and Harry a glare. Damnit, he was trying not to draw attention to them. He looked at Seraglio, just hoping she and her cohort were more interested in him. “I would ask why you didn’t just kill me in my sleep... but that’s why you stole the bracelet, isn’t it? You were making sure it was me. And by that time I’d already moved out.”

Seraglio pulled the arm band out of her pocket and threw it at his feet. “I should not have been surprised when you disappeared. Six nights out of seven you were gone whoring, fooling others into believing you’ll never leave them as you left us. Besides, we know better than to face a god on his home territory where he is the strongest. So we sent our agents instead. And then I enlisted the assistance of one of your many conquests. It was not difficult, you clearly do not inspire great loyalty.”

She sneered. “I do not believe you deserve this death, a warrior’s death. You destroyed us as a people... but we will be more honorable than you. Lay down your sword.”

It was not a sword so much as a very long knife, but Robin pulled it from its sheath in his trousers and dropped it to the ground with a clang. “There aren’t many who aren’t,” he said matter-of-factly. And then his voice dropped lower. “And if you are truly honorable, you will let them go.” He nodded almost imperceptively at Thomas and Harry. “They’ve done nothing to you. It is me you want.”

“And I’d be happy to hand him over to you,” Harry cut in, drawing the woman’s attention back to him. “Really. He’s been a pain in my backside since we met. But....”

He glanced at Robin again and exhaled. “...he also saved the lives of people I care about. So, as much as I’d like to turn him over to you...I owe him.”

He stepped forward, blocking Robin and Thomas as he spread his arms wide. “And I pay my debts. With interest. Fuego!” A wave of fire roared from his fingertips towards Seraglio and her minions.

Thomas was very good at taking cues from Harry. The moment the fire was unleashed he was a blur of movement, and he didn’t pull his punches just because they were human. They were also insane and homicidal, and that meant that they would die if they had to. He took the two on the far right before either could get a shot off, and when the bullet from one of the others punched through his calf he didn’t make a sound, gritting his teeth against the pain to keep fighting.

Robin could have killed them. Clearly they had no appreciation for a puck’s completely unnatural attempt at self sacrifice. Seraglio didn’t even have a chance to respond, and suddenly there was a fight. Robin whipped out the two knives that he still had strapped to his calves - but it was too late. He was too slow, Seraglio’s finger was already tight across the trigger. He froze when he saw the look in her eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he blurted as the turmoil unfolded around them, like the eye of a storm. “Not for what you think, but - “

It was worth nothing, he could tell from her expression. He threw the knife perhaps a millisecond before he felt the white hot pain lance through his neck. His hand flew up to blood spurting from his throat.

Harry was always surprised when he saw Thomas move like that--fight like that. Like the predator he kept himself from being every other moment of his life. As two of the henchmen went down, Harry reached for his gun. He didn’t like to use it, but in this instance....

Another henchman fell, but so did Robin, and Harry and the remaining henchmen turned to stare.

Thomas didn’t notice when Robin was hit. He was moving, spinning, finishing the man that Robin’s thrown knife brought down, then the other, and he didn’t pause as he finally fought his way to Seraglio. He spun, the saber swinging in an arc that severed head from body. As Seraglio’s corpse fell, he looked around, pale skin even paler and eyes shimmering silver, to make sure there was no one else.

That was when he noticed. “Robin.” He mouthed the word, no sound escaping him, and then he was moving back across the alley to Robin’s side.

Robin was on his knees, fingertips pressed to the wound on his neck, blood pouring through them. When he spoke, there was a gurgling sound in his voice. “I guess gods do bleed.” His eyes were unfocused, and there was blood on his lips. So much for the damn bullet-proof vest. “I’m sorry,” he said to Thomas, and it was entirely unclear whether he meant to him, or for whatever deeds he had done to others to bring him to this point. And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped onto Thomas, fingers falling, blood gushing.

“No.” Thomas caught Robin as he fell and dropped to his knees, easing him to the ground. He didn’t even feel his own gunshot wound, his eyes still a shimmering silver as he pulled Robin’s head onto his lap, pressing his hand over the wound as if he could hold the blood in better than Robin had. “No, no, no, no, no! Robin!” He looked around wildly, his eyes falling on Harry with a glazed expression that sharpened. “Open a Way to the Nevernever,” he demanded of his brother, every muscle in his body taut.

Harry barely had time to comprehend the look on Thomas’s face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He lifted his staff with a barely perceptible nod of his head and closed his eyes, willing the gate between worlds to open. “What are you going to do?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

Thomas gathered Robin’s unconscious body in his arms as if he weighed nothing and rose to his feet, heading quickly for the newly opened Way. “Save his life,” he answered quietly, stepping through the gate. Later he would let Harry berate him for his stupidity, yell at him and kick his ass, whatever he wanted to do. But he couldn’t let Harry stop him. He couldn’t lose Robin, and there was only one being he could think of that might be able to save him in time.

Harry watched him go, wondering if it might be the last time he saw his brother, or the puck, and nodded again, lifting two fingers in a salute before he raised his staff again, closing the Way behind them. He had no idea what Thomas had planned--or if there was a plan, but there had been a fierce determination he’d never seen in his brother before, and he didn’t doubt that if there was a way, no matter how unsavory, Thomas would find it.

Thomas strode into Lara’s office without hesitating, leaving a shocked Justine staring after him, looking surprised and a little hurt. “Where is he?” he demanded, placing his palms flat on the large desk and leaning toward her, intense and angry.

“Why Tommy, what a surprise to see you,” Lara drawled, looking unfazed by the daggers he was glaring at her. “Where is who?”

“You know damn well who. I told you you couldn’t have him, so you took him yourself,” Thomas snarled, somehow managing to resist the urge to hurdle the desk and wrap his hands around her neck. “And I’m here to take him back.”

Lara blinked a few times, sitting back. “Oh dear. Have you misplaced your thrall, brother dear? That is the problem with pucks. So fickle. He must have agreed with me on one point; you weren’t enough to keep him satisfied.”

“Don’t. Play. Games. With. Me,” Thomas gritted out from clenched teeth, his eyes silver as he pulled on his demon’s energy, ready to fight for Robin if he had to. “Neither of us want this to get physical, so just return him to me and we’ll leave.”

“No, we don’t. So messy,” Lara agreed, patting her perfectly cascading blue-black curls. “But I’m afraid I don’t have your little toy. I have other concerns at the moment, and plenty of other delicious bucks to satisfy my Hunger.”

Thomas looked at her for a long moment. He knew the latter was true, but if Lara wasn’t keeping Robin...the other options just weren’t ones Thomas wanted to think about. Dead, captured by enemies, or...simply done with him, none of them would ease the tight knot of pain and worry he’d carried in his chest the last two days. He had to be here. That was all there was to it.

“Give him back to me and you will have my full assistance with your little...Malvora trouble,” Thomas answered calmly, much more calmly than he felt.

That got a reaction from Lara, small and brief thought it may have been. “...Why Tommy. And here I thought surely you’d forgotten how to be a true Raith, considering the company you keep these days. Speaking of which, if you’ve truly misplaced your pucktoy,” she smiled at the phrase, “why aren’t you asking your little wizard...friend for help? Isn’t that what he’s good for? Helping those in need?” She pursed her lips as if tasting something slightly unpleasant.

Thomas didn’t need the reminder that as he knew her secret, she knew his as well. And he didn’t care to explain that Harry and Robin had a rousing mutual dislike club going that made him reluctant to go to his brother for help, especially when there were other avenues to explore first. “If I find out you’re lying to me, you will live to regret it,” he said softly.

Lara laughed that maddening, melodic laugh of hers. “Dear brother. Remember where you are. Lies are everything--save when the truth is more fun.” She smirked and bent her head over the document in front of her. “Now if we’re finished, I’m quite busy. Do show yourself out. You know the way.”

Thomas clenched his fists at his sides, briefly contemplating sororicide. Then he turned and walked out, giving Justine a small nod as he passed, not letting himself really look at her. If Lara wanted to play coy, he’d just have to come back and see for himself. He knew these grounds as well as she did, knew how to get in and out without being detected--and he knew all of the best places to keep a prisoner...or hide a body.

Tomorrow then. He’d come back tomorrow night, and if Robin was there, Thomas would find him and get him out. What happened after that was up to Robin.

Lara looked up after Thomas turned away, watching him go with shrewdly narrowed eyes. So the puck was more than a thrall. Her brother had gone and done it again, he hadn’t learned after what had happened with Justine.

“Oh, Tommy. You sentimental little idiot,” she murmured, shaking her head. Now. How could she use this knowledge for her own purposes?

When the Raiths threw parties, they were usually quite elaborate. As Thomas led the way up the stairs and into his family home, there was little evidence of this in the main hall, but he knew what would wait for them in the ballroom and on the back lawn: champagne, hors d'oeuvres, and thralls in embroidered silk kimonos, waiting passively to be chosen as an appetizer of a different sort.

He waited for the pair of security guards posted at the front door to clear him to enter and followed the red carpet toward the ballroom, not even looking back to see if Robin was following. His expression had become remote, cool and calm, though inside he was wound so tight he almost ached.

Robin wasn't wound tightly at all; on the contrary, he felt delightfully loose. Maybe it was the black silk pajamas Thomas had laid out for him to wear, or the pleasant buzz of sexuality surrounding the entire place. It was a wonder he didn't go half mast just from walking inside. He did remember at least that he was acting, so he made an effort to play the thrall as he walked behind Thomas.

Only Robin was close enough to see Thomas twitch as a melodic feminine voice called his name and Lara drifted toward them, looking even more beautiful in person than she had been on screen. She wore a long, white dress that flowed over her curves, hugging tightly in the right places and flaring gracefully in others. Thomas plastered a smile on his face and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Lara. So good of you to invite me," he drawled, stepping back.

Lara laughed, a throaty, erotic sound. "Why, dear brother, whyever would I not? I hardly ever get to see you these days." Her eyes flicked to Robin, then back to Thomas. "And you've brought me a gift! How thoughtful." She looked Robin over more thoroughly this time. "Why, all he's missing is a bow."

Okay, now it was really miraculous that Robin didn't go half mast. Jesus. He remembered when he'd first met Thomas, how drawn to him he was. But this was stronger... and also more artificial. As if Lara had something turned on that Thomas didn't bother with. He did not, however, say anything. He kept his eyes on Thomas.

"He's not for you," Thomas said quietly, but Lara ignored him, stepping close and cupping Robin's chin in her fingers, just taking a taste. She inhaled, her eyes lightening, fingertips caressing Robin's cheek. "...He's not human," she murmured, looking toward Thomas, then back to Robin. "What are you, sweet little buck?"

"Thomas'," said Robin, and managed to keep his voice level despite the spark of arousal through him at her touch.

Thomas knew it was just part of the act, but that answer sent an electric thrill through him nonetheless. He smiled faintly as Lara's eyebrows rose and she took a step back. "Your tastes have changed, little brother," she remarked, licking her lips. "For the better, I must say."

Thomas smiled tightly at her and reached out to absently stroke Robin's hair. "I'm not surprised you think so."

Robin made a point of leaning into Thomas' touch, again, keeping all of his attention on Thomas rather than Lara. He was, after all, supposed to be addicted to him.

Another pair of guests appeared in the doorway and Lara shot Robin a disappointed look. "Enjoy the party, Tommy. I'll find you later," she promised, waggling her perfectly manicured fingers at him with a smirk before drifting away to greet the new arrivals. Thomas relaxed almost imperceptibly, grabbing a pair of champagne flutes from a passing tray and offering one to Robin.

Robin relaxed visibly after Lara was out of sight. "Fuck me on the pantheon but that woman is strong stuff," he muttered under his breath.

"I tried to tell you," Thomas murmured, taking a sip of champagne. "And she's fascinated by you. I knew she would be." Who wouldn't be, really?

"Who wouldn't be?" said Robin, and drank.

Thomas made a soft, exasperated sound as Robin echoed his own thoughts. "Well. I suppose we should...mingle," he said reluctantly, looking around at his relatives, the roomful of monsters. "Try not to get eaten," he added under his breath, and started into the room, on his guard as he always was around his family.

Robin followed after Thomas, keeping close to him, which made it easy to speak soft enough so only he could hear. "I don't think I've ever seen this many beautiful people in one place. Why is there not an orgy happening right now?"

"The night is young," Thomas muttered, hating the thought of Robin in an orgy of Raiths more than he could even express.

"Should we be making out or something as part of the act?" Robin asked hopefully.

They certainly wouldn't be the only ones if they did, but Thomas gave a faint shake of his head. "Maybe later," he murmured, grabbing some little toast-point thing as it was offered to him.

Robin tried not to look disappointed. He just nodded, and downed the rest of the champagne.

Thomas wandered among the party, eventually finding himself outside where there was less talking and more making out going on. His eyes were noticably lighter as he breathed in the heightened arousal on the summer air. Before he could turn around and lead Robin inside, though, one of his other sisters accosted him, drawing him into a discussion that had so many layers and veiled barbs he had to give her his complete focus.

Which was why Lara was able to slip up behind them without Thomas noticing, wrapping her arm around Robin's bicep and tugging gently. "Come with me, my lovely buck," she purred in his ear. "Thomas won't miss you much, with all of the tasty kine he can choose from here."

Robin took a little breath, feeling his cock twitch just from the contact. It took him a second to think of how he should respond, and finally settled on, his voice soft, "Thomas won't mind?"

Lara chuckled and slipped her arm around Robin's waist, leading him toward the house. "Of course not, sweet. My darling brother would surely be willing to share with me." And even if Thomas didn't want to, well--she was going to taste this one anyway.

"You do seem to be a sharing lot," Robin said. He allowed her to lead him. After all, wasn't this why he'd wanted to come? Though in the moment, even more now, he couldn't help but wonder why the hell Thomas was letting him.

Lara smiled at him and pulled ahead, letting her grip slide down his arm to grasp his wrist firmly as she led him to a sumptuous bedroom--one of many. She locked the door behind them and turned to face Robin, looking him over. "Mmm...he does have good taste," she murmured, reaching out to untie the sash holding Robin's top closed. "Now I'll ask you again, sweet. What are you?" The last was said with more steel in her voice.

"You didn't like my answer before?" The top fell open, revealing Robin's smooth, muscled chest. And the way his breath came a touch quicker.

"It was clever, but not what I asked." Lara eyed him, running her fingers lightly over his newly-revealed chest, tasting him again. "You're not human, but you don't taste all that different from them," she mused. "Brighter. Deeper, but very similar."

"It wasn't clever, it was true." Robin figured that when it came to survival in this situation, emphasizing how pissed Thomas would be if she hurt him wasn't a bad strategy. But fuck if the danger wasn't turning him on. He licked his lips. "Do you like the way I taste?"

"Mmm, I've hardly sampled enough to say," Lara remarked absently, slipping the top off of his shoulders so it slid from him and fell to the floor. She cupped his face in her hand, firmly this time, fingernails digging into his cheek, and said in a calm, chilly voice. "I'll not ask you again, buck. What are you?"

"I'm a puck," Robin gasped out, and his cock swelled.

"A puck," Lara repeated, looking at him thoughtfully. "And tell me, puck. How did my baby brother manage that one?" Not that she expected an answer to that, which was clear as she leaned in, lips moving over his neck as her hand released his face, moving down to untie the drawstring pants he was wearing.

"The same way you would, I imagine," said Robin, closing his eyes.

"Oh, but Tommy doesn't have my style," Lara purred, pushing his pants down as her mouth moved to his in a searing kiss, hot and cold all at once, imbued with the full power of one of the most powerful White Court vampires in existence.

Jesus fucking fuck.

Robin's body seemed to go into autopilot, his hands reaching up to slide his fingers through her hair, his cock achingly hard, his body arching towards hers as he kissed her back.

Lara let out a pleased whimper, reaching one arm back to unzip her dress without moving away from Robin, pressing against him tightly as the kiss continued, as she took a nice, big taste of Thomas' plaything. "Oh, you do taste good," she breathed, eyes silvery discs as she finally pulled back just enough to slip free of her dress.

Okay, now Robin definitely remembered why he'd wanted to come here. He couldn't even describe how it felt to kiss Lara Raith. And then suddenly she was naked and he was pretty sure it was the most flawless female form he'd ever seen, and that included Aphrodite. "There's more where that came from," he said, sliding his hands onto her breasts.

Lara arched into his hands with a lazy moan, closing the distance between them again to press against him from knee to waist, hooking a leg around his as she rocked temptingly against him. "Show me," she purred, and then with a speed and strength one wouldn't expect from her, she pushed him back onto the impressive four-poster bed and straddled him, smiling down at him like she was eyeing a decadent chocolate dessert.

Robin fell back on the bed with a little whoosh of air, and slid his hands back onto her breasts as soon as she was straddling him. "Tell me what I taste like," he said, his breathing going rapid.

"Aren't you demanding?" Lara commented, scratching a fingernail over his nipple. "You taste like dessert, sweet buck." And then she was bending forward, her hair falling in a blue-black wave around them as she kissed Robin again, rubbing against him, hot and wet, eager to drink deeper of his lust but delaying it for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. It would be all the sweeter for it.

Robin groaned at even that light taste of pain, and the feeling of her moving on him, and the smell of sex gathering around them. He wanted... god, what did he want. He wanted everything. He wanted her to fuck him within an inch of his life. He wanted to feel the danger of it.

As she tasted him her fingernail scratched again, harder, then her nails grated down his chest as she reached down to position his cock against her entrance with her other hand, pressing back onto his impressive length without hesitation, without even a sign of discomfort. "Ohhh...surely Tommy doesn't keep you satisfied, little puck. Not with hungers such as you have."

As soon as she sank onto him, Robin let out a loud keening sound, his hands sliding down to her waist and digging into her skin. "I..." It took him a moment to even be able to speak. "I have a lot of hungers."

"Mmm...such delightful ones, too," Lara purred, rocking maddeningly slowly on him, her breath hitching as she fed, filling herself with his sweet, bright, ages old aura. She leaned down and nipped at his ear, then her teeth bit firmly onto his neck, tongue sliding over skin. "Stay with me, pet. I can satisfy you like my brother never will." She snapped her hips back and down, hard, taking him deep inside with a soft cry.

Robin believed her, too. He could feel it in this, the power sweeping over him, intoxicating. It had not been until the time at the salon, after Molly, that Robin had realized that Thomas was holding back for him. It struck him even more now, because unlike Thomas, Lara was not. Fuck he hoped he didn't pass out again.

He said nothing, just thrust hard up into her.

Lara took that as a good sign and went to work convincing him further, moving with him, hard and fast, groaning as she kissed him again, raking her nails over his skin harshly. She still couldn't see how Thomas could ever manage to subdue a puck on his own, not with the crippled way he forced himself to feed, but she was sure she could convince him how much more he would enjoy himself with her.

Another thing Robin realized at this moment was how little time relatively he'd been spending with women lately. God he loved the way she felt. And this mixture of power and surrender was absolutely intoxicating. He slid his hand down from her waist to where they were joined, fingers diving into her wet heat, amazed that he could even think straight enough to find her clit.

Lara inhaled sharply, arching her back as his fingers found her, her pace quickening at the additional stimulation. She marveled at how much he had to feed upon, even as she felt her body moving toward climax, her demon greedily taking what the puck was giving and more. "Oh yes, my sweet, how marvelous you are," she gasped, bucking her hips eagerly.

When Robin came, it was like nothing he'd ever felt. Because the truth was, this was different than it had been with Thomas in the salon. He didn't like to think about why, but it was. Okay, he did know why. It was because, in the end, he trusted Thomas. There was therefore an edge of danger here that would never be present with Thomas. And Robin, for better or worse, got off on it. Which was evident by the way he practically screamed when he came.

Lara shuddered as his climax washed through her, the taste and feel of it enough to push her that last little bit of the way. Her scream echoed his, her fingernails digging into his shoulders deep enough to leave marks, and then she was panting, leaning over him as she tried to catch her breath, as the eerie silver of her eyes slowly, slowly faded back to grey. "Mmmm...delicious," she murmured.

Robin tried to focus his eyes on her, but found that he was seeing double. His body was, amazingly enough, screaming for more. He wanted to keep touching her, wanted to feel this again, but... he didn't really have the chance, because his eyes rolled into the back of his head and the world went black.

"...Oh dear. I seem to have broken Tommy's toy," Lara murmured, not sounding too bothered by the revelation. She slipped away, feeling invigorated as she stepped into the attached bathroom to clean up a bit before redressing. She had a party to hostess, after all.

Twitching her skirt into place, she moved to the door and unlocked it, but didn't get a chance to leave before she was stopped by another vampire with a strong family resemblance. "Lara. There you are, I've been looking for you," she said in Etruscan, glancing around before slipping into the open door and sparing only the most cursory of glances toward the bed. "House Malvora is stirring up trouble, just as you suspected," she reported.

Unlike the last time this had happened, Robin was out for maybe five minutes, coming around as Lara finished up in the bathroom. He wondered what might have happened if he was human, though. Clearly she hadn't been holding back; he wondered if she was trying to make some sort of point.

He did purposely keep his eyes closed though, especially when he heard someone else enter the room. And listened.

Lara sighed softly. "House Malvora is full of fools," she responded haughtily. "However, it would be unwise of father to ignore the threat they pose." She glanced back at the bed, at the still unconscious puck. "If they intend to seriously make a move for the throne, we should begin gathering our allies." Lara stood utterly still for a minute, thinking. "Go. Find out what you can. Enlist Justine to assist you, I'm sure you know where you can find her." The two sisters shared a wry laugh at that comment, and then Lara and Robin were once again alone in the bedroom. She stepped over to the bed, looking down at him, and said, "I'll let my brother know how appreciative I am of his gift, unintentional though it may have been." She smiled and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Robin almost couldn't believe that he actually had managed to stumble on some interesting information, even if he was having to scramble to remember it in his lust-addled mind. He heard Lara's final comment and waited for her to leave before groaning and rolling over onto his side just to keep from falling asleep. He wondered if she just thought he was passed out. But he wasn't, so he forced himself to climb out of bed, and then went into the bathroom and took a fast shower before putting the pajamas back on and wandering out to find Thomas.
-----

Thomas had noticed Robin was gone not long after it happened, just in time to look around and see Lara leading him away. Well, shit, he thought, sagging a little. He'd known it was likely, it was one of the main reasons he hadn't wanted to bring Robin, but...the puck could be very persistent, and it just seemed wiser to get that particular meeting over with on his terms. So he watched as Robin and Lara disappeared into the house, frowning, then went in search of something harder than champagne, unable to keep his eyes from the back door, waiting for Robin to reappear though he knew it was far too soon.

Justine had been waiting for Thomas. She knew he would be here, but... could barely contain her surprise when he bought Robin with him. What was he thinking?

She forced herself to stay away for a time, unwilling both to seem to eager and to interrupt him with anyone else, and so she wanted until Robin was gone and he was alone to approach.

Thomas didn't notice Justine approaching until she was nearly at his side, so preoccupied was he with watching for Robin. He turned and gave her a carefully controlled smile, because you never knew who was watching at these things. "Hello, darling," he murmured, reaching out to touch her shoulder lightly, taking care not to touch skin.

"Hello, Thomas," she said, and she had the same kind of smile, though there was obvious strain in it. The strain that came from the way it felt like a knife in her chest just from seeing him and not being able to touch him. "I see you brought a plus one."

Thomas winced just a little. "Yeah. He was...curious. He wanted to come, so...he's playing thrall," he admitted in a low voice.

"Mmmmm," said Justine, noncommitally. She was clearly skeptical. "Played well enough to catch Lara's attention. You're not..." She hesitated. "Concerned about that?"

"Fucking terrified," Thomas admitted under his breath, glancing toward the door again. "But Robin is his own person. At least tonight Lara is the only one that's shown any interest in him."

"That may be because she barely gave him the chance to get in the door," Justine pointed out, and studied Thomas' face for a moment. Her voice got even lower. "You are terrified. Thomas, why did you bring him here?"

"I don't know," Thomas admitted, rubbing his forehead. "Because he wanted to come. He wanted to meet Lara. I didn't know how to tell him no," he finished in a near-whisper, taking a long swallow of his drink.

"Does he have a death wish?" Justine's words were a little sharper than she intended, but she'd gotten the impression that maybe Robin cared about Thomas at least a little, and she couldn't imagine why he would put him through this.

"He likes the danger, I think," Thomas answered dryly. "And it's Lara. I mean...who wouldn't want her?" he pointed out with a helpless little shrug, and maybe a trace of bitterness.

"You're jealous," said Justine simply. And tried very, very hard to ignore the reflection of that in herself.

Thomas sighed. "I wish people would stop saying that," he muttered, but he didn't deny it.

She should be happy for him, she thought. That he cared about someone. Anyone. But she just looked away.

Thomas knew Justine well enough to recognize that she was hurt, upset. "Sweetheart," he murmured, reaching for her, hating that he had hurt her. "You know how I feel about you."

"Thomas." Justine said his name a little sharply. "You can't... do that here. Look at me like that." Her voice softened. "But I know. I do." But it didn't matter, did it?

Thomas let his hand fall away, glancing around to make sure they'd gone unnoticed, looking away. "I should get you out of here. I should have gotten you out of here ages ago. You need to move on, find someone who can touch you. You can't do that if you're so embroiled in my family's life," he said in a low, urgent voice, still not looking at her.

Justine felt that familiar tightening in her chest. And even though he wasn't looking at her, she shook her head. "It's not that easy."

The words weren't easy for him to say, the thought of letting her go made a hollow ache in his chest, but he thought it was time this happened. There wasn't going to be a cure, not for them, no matter what Harry thought. "I can find another way to get intel. I've never liked the idea of you spying on Lara, anyway," he murmured. "I can set you up somewhere, you can have your own little place. You're doing much better these days, I think you'd be all right."

Justine looked at him for a moment, and then slowly shook her head. "It hasn't been dangerous for me, Thomas. Lara appreciates me, and it's... not bad here. Better than it would be elsewhere, I think." And she didn't say it, but she wasn't ready to move on from him yet, even if she couldn't bring herself to hate the fact that he apparently was thinking otherwise.

Thomas gave her a long look. "If you're sure..." he murmured. "If you ever change your mind, say the word and I'll get you out of here."

Justine hated it, she did, but she had to ask.

"Do you love him?"

Thomas didn't answer for a long moment, looking into the distance. "I can't," he whispered, but it wasn't a denial.

That was answer enough for Justine. She sighed softly, honestly not knowing if she should be happy for him or terrified for him. "You can, you know," she said softly. "You just have to make sure he doesn't love you back." Of course, in her mind, such a thing would be near impossible.

Ah, but that was the very reason why he couldn't, why he shouldn't love Robin. "Not a lot of danger of that," he murmured with a wry little smile. He looked back at her, solemn and pained. "I still love you. I think I always will." He wanted to reassure her, even though there was nothing either of them could do about it. His feelings for her hadn't changed and weren't likely to, no matter who else came into his life.

"Oh darling, of course you do." She put her hand on his arm, carefully over his shirt. Then pulled it away, but it wasn't to be seen, them being too close. "I just want you to be happy."

"That's all I want for you," Thomas replied, taking a sip of his drink as he looked around again, always on his guard among these people. "If you're happy here, then...that's all I ask."

Justine thought happy was a pretty strong word, but she wasn't unhappy. So she just nodded. Then she frowned. "Thomas, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't say anything, but... making you bring him here? When you'd obviously worry about him?" She didn't finish the thought, just let her disapproval hang out there.

Thomas sighed a little. "He'll be fine. He's strong, he recovers quickly..." But that didn't keep a line from appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned back toward the house, then slipped his phone from his pocket to check the time. How long had they been gone? It felt like ages, even though he knew it hadn't been. "He didn't make me bring him. He wanted to come, so I said yes." He snorted softly. "Besides. Saying no would have only made him all the more determined."

"He's not addicted to you," Justine said, reading between the lines of everything he'd said. "That must be... reassuring."

Thomas gave a little nod, his expression not changing. Yes, it was nice to know that Robin was able to leave whenever he wanted. Really. It was. Of course, once they figured out who was trying to kill him...he would. Thomas tried to keep reminding himself of that, but it was a thought he didn't really like dwelling on. "He's staying with me for protection," he murmured, glancing at Justine.

"And that's all," said Justine skeptically. Finally, she just said, "Look, if he's really... I mean, if you care about him, then obviously there's something about the guy, something worth holding onto. So promise me you'll at least try to do what makes you happy, okay?"

Thomas smiled a little bitterly. "I don't think there's much I can do. He's not..." He sighed and rubbed at his temple. "He's not interested in anything long-term. So I'm just enjoying the ride while it lasts."

Justine's eyes flicked in the direction of Lara's bedroom. "Thomas, why are you standing here talking to me. You need to make sure he's okay. Go."

Thomas made a frustrated sound and nodded faintly. He wasn't going to go interrupt or anything, but he knew this house as well as anyone else, and he could find somewhere to wait and watch for Lara to emerge where he wouldn't be noticed. "Love you," he whispered, and then he was moving among the party guests, quick and graceful as he made his way to the back door.

When Robin emerged from what he assumed was Lara's bedroom (or just a bedroom, the whole house was probably full of them), he didn't have to stumble very far to spot Thomas. Which was impressive since it was the back of his head and all the Raiths had pretty similar hair. "Thomas!"

Thomas whirled at the sound of his name, moving quickly to Robin's side and slipping an arm around his waist. "Are you all right?" he asked in a low, worried voice.

"Mmhmm," said Robin, and slid up beside him, steadying himself a little on Thomas' arm. "I'm still supposed to act all thrally, right?"

"Until I can get you out of here, yes," Thomas muttered, glancing toward the front of the house and wondering if they could manage to just leave without being stopped. He'd had more than enough of this party, and Robin--Robin had gotten what he came for, hadn't he?

"That might be kind of tricky," said Robin. "I think your sister wants to kidnap me from you." He felt kind of lightheaded, almost as if he was drunk. Probably because he was still close to passing out.

Thomas stiffened. "What?" He looked around for Lara, eyes wide and a little wild, and started edging toward the front hall, swearing under his breath. "I never should have brought you, I was out of my mind..."

Robin snorted. "I'm not going to let her." He sounded a little offended, actually. "Though she certainly doesn't have much faith in your ability to satisfy my needs, kitten."

Thomas let the last part pass. He didn't really want to know what Lara had had to say on that front, or Robin's opinion on it, for that matter. "You don't get it. If she wants to stop us leaving, she will," he murmured, eyes darting around, watching for any sign that anyone was moving to intercept them as he tried to look casual about heading for the door.

Robin suddenly grabbed Thomas' wrist, jerking him a little, forcing him to look at him. "She underestimates me," he said, green eyes flashing. "And so do you if you think that there is even the slightest possibility that she could turn me into some drooling puppet."

Thomas stared at Robin, a million thoughts flying through his mind. "Not. Now," he muttered through clenched teeth, then added, "Please." Robin may not have been worried about what Lara could do, but Thomas knew what she could do. And was clearly terrified by the knowledge.

Robin dropped Thomas' wrist, and rolled his eyes. He did know, at least, that there was no one near them. "Fine, I'll play your drooling puppet for a few more minutes then," he muttered. "Don't worry, I made sure that if you both call my name and offer me a treat she won't be surprised if I trot over to you."

Thomas gave a terse nod, not even acknowledging Robin's sarcastic comment. This had been a mistake, and he was feeling worse about it by the second. By some miracle they made it to the door without being stopped and Thomas sent the valet for his car, tapping his foot and glancing back toward the house every few seconds, expecting Lara or one of the others to pursue them at any moment.

Thomas' obvious tension had apparently jolted Robin out of his stupor a bit, and as he watched Thomas' nervous glances, he said quietly, "She thinks I'm still passed out on her bed. And besides, she had more important things to attend to. Relax."

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to do so. "You don't know her," he said quietly, still warily watching the entrance until the car was pulled up and the valet got out. He relaxed a little and moved around to get in the driver's seat.

Robin sighed and slid into the car on the passenger's side. "If you're going to be all pissy I'm not even going to tell you what I learned."

Thomas started the car rolling forward, visibly relaxing as it became clear that they really, truly managed to escape. "I'm not being pissy," he protested, pressing back into his seat as he tried to ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. He glanced at Robin, then, frowning a little. "What did you learn?"

"House Malvora is making a bid for the throne," said Robin. And then frowned, only now thinking of the context in which he'd heard it. "Wait, why the hell was she speaking in Etruscan?"

Thomas looked straight ahead again, considering that information. "That's the language the White Court conducts its business in," he admitted.

Somehow Robin found this fascinating piece of information less interesting than - "You speak Etruscan then? What the fuck, Thomas. When I start babbling in other languages I don't expect to be understood." Particularly the dead ones that he'd filed away in his head now as perfectly safe to say whatever the hell he wanted.

Thomas grinned a little at that, feeling somewhat euphoric as the tension of the party fell away. "You never asked if I understood," he pointed out.

Robin honestly had no idea what he might have said. He tended to blurt out ridiculous things during sex.

"You've been holding out on me," he panted, and pushed his hair behind his ear. It was still damp from the shower. "If you can talk dirty to me in dead languages, this is information I should have."

"You didn't ask," Thomas repeated, grinning wider. But then he added, "It's just the one. And French, of course, but Etruscan is the only dead one."

"First the family porn business, now this," Robin sighed. "Anything else new and wonderful I might find out about you?"

"I don't know, nothing comes to mind," Thomas answered with a little shrug. There was the fact that Lara was only one of many sisters, but Thomas didn't think that was particularly new or wonderful, personally.

"Too bad," said Robin, and yawned a little, leaning his head against the window. There was no denying that Lara had taken a lot out of him, even if he talked a big game.

Thomas looked over at him and smiled faintly. "How are you feeling?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Well fucked," said Robin bluntly, and turned his head, still leaning lazily against the back of the seat, to look at Thomas. "But quite like myself. I'm not clamoring to go back if that's what you mean. Or about to pass out."

"I was more concerned with the latter," Thomas muttered, though it was good to know that he wasn't tempted by Lara. "So is your curiosity satisfied, now?"

"I guess so," Robin said. "Though you're lucky I can appreciate my fondness for things that aren't good for me as occasionally a bad idea. Because you're right, she'd probably eat me alive if she could. Though what a way to go."

Thomas rolled his eyes and didn't reply, watching the road ahead as he sped back into town. He really didn't need to be reminded how much Robin had probably enjoyed himself, really he didn't.

Robin let his head loll back against the seat, and closed his eyes. "Don't worry, sunshine," he murmured. "Still better with you."

Thomas glanced over, remembering Justine's words. He wasn't sure he knew how to be happy, but he knew he liked what he had with Robin. Too bad Robin didn't feel the same way, but he'd just have to live with that. For as long as Robin was still interested, anyway. He shook his head and focused on getting them home, remaining quiet so Robin could sleep if he wanted to.

Robin didn't fall asleep, but he did for once stop running his mouth. Mostly because he was tempted to ask Thomas if he'd seen Justine, but then couldn't bring himself to really want to hear about it.

And Thomas wasn't likely to volunteer the information, since Robin had basically told him not to. He remained silent for the rest of the drive, pulling into the parking garage next to his building and killing the engine. "We're home," he announced, in case Robin had fallen asleep.

Robin's eyes opened immediately, so it was clear he hadn't been asleep at all. He opened the door and climbed out of the car without a word.

Thomas got out and locked it up, walking around the car to Robin's side. "You're quiet," he remarked with a faint smile, touching Robin's back briefly before his hand fell away.

"The more I think about your sister the less I like her," Robin muttered.

"Oh?" Thomas started toward the apartment building, watching Robin curiously.

Robin was actually walking a little faster than usual, keeping pace ahead of Thomas. "I am not food."

Thomas smiled wryly at that. "You let me feed off of you," he pointed out, though he probably wouldn't have if he'd taken a moment to think about it.

"That's different." Robin ignored the glance from the security guard at his pajamas as he breezed past him and into the open elevator. "I should amend my statement. "I am food. We're all food. Whatever is actually at the top of the food chain, I sure as hell hope I never meet it. But I do not want to feel like food."

Thomas followed him into the elevator with a nod at the guard and hit the button for the top floor. "...Fair enough," he commented simply. "And to Lara, that's pretty much all you were. That, and a way to remind me who has the power in the family."

"I think you have more power than you know," said Robin. "Otherwise she wouldn't care so much about reminding you anything." The elevator dinged.

Thomas gave Robin a considering look before striding out of the elevator toward the apartment. "Maybe," he said with a little shrug. "Knowledge is power. And I know something most of them don't. Or at least they don't know for sure."

"Oh? What's that?" Once Thomas opened the door, Robin stepped into the apartment, immediately pulling the pajama top off and slipping out of the pants, walking stark naked into the kitchen and opening a bottle of wine.

Thomas paused as he turned away from locking the door, looking Robin over from head to toe both to make sure he was really okay after Lara's attention--and because it was naked Robin. "My father is the White King. Leader of the three primary houses of the White Court." He wandered over to lean against the counter and watch Robin. "Except he isn't, anymore. Or at least he isn't the one making all of the decisions."

Robin poured a glass of wine and downed half of it. "Let me guess. Lara's pulling the strings." He felt better out of the pajamas. Wolf in sheep's clothing and all that.

"Has been for years," Thomas agreed. "Ever since she and her demon gained control of him," he added pointedly, because Robin being cocky about Lara not being able to do anything to them was a dangerous thing. Ohhh, she certainly could.

"How very Greek of her," Robin said. They did know how to do tragic incest properly.

"Yes, well. At any rate, officially he's still king. If it got out that he was so weak his own daughter had managed to take over, the other houses would pounce." Thomas took a deep breath, rubbing his cheek as he came around to get his own glass of wine. "Malvora, you said? I would have expected Skavis before them. I wonder if they have anything."

"You'll have to explain the difference to me, darling," Robin said, and leaned back against the counter as he sipped his wine. He managed somehow to make being naked both completely natural and completely sexual at the same time.

And Thomas noticed both, but kept his distance, moving away with his wine to hop up onto the opposite counter as he started to explain. "Well...the big difference is that Malvora feeds on fear primarily, while House Skavis prefers despair. Also, Malvora lost the head of their house a while back in an...unfortunate incident. I wouldn't expect them to be making a bid for the entire court just yet, but maybe they're desperate."

"Fear and despair. Well, not as fun as you folks now are they?" Robin reached for the bottle and refilled his glass. They went through a lot of wine around here. "Seems like Lara has it well in hand. Her reaction was about like yours. Cautious skepticism."

Thomas shrugged. "To each their own. They enjoy it." He nodded at the comment about Lara. "I'm sure she does. She knows what she's doing." Still, if there was an inter-house struggle warming up, he'd be expected to do his part. He really didn't want to.

At the reminder of Lara and how she knew what she was doing, Robin's mind flashed to her bedroom again. And then, inexplicably, to an earlier exchange.

What are you?

Thomas'.

He suppressed a shudder, downed the rest of the wine, and walked out of the kitchen.

Thomas frowned in confusion as Robin walked away without a word. "..Robin?" He hopped off of the counter to follow when his phone started ringing. He sighed and yanked it out of his pocket, swearing as he saw who was calling. "What?" he demanded into the phone, voice cool and a lot calmer than he felt.

When Robin heard Thomas' phone ring, he paused in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and listening.

Thomas' answers were brief and mostly monotone, but he was tense and on edge as he mostly listened to Lara. She finally got some emotion out of him, though, because he set the wineglass on the counter before he gave into the temptation to throw it against the wall and hissed into the phone, "He's mine, Lara. Stay the hell away from him, you can't have him." Her laughter was audible even through the phone, but Thomas cut that off after only a moment. "I'm serious. Don't push me on this one."

He's mine. Something twisted in Robin's gut at the way Thomas said it. It harkened back to the way that he'd felt earlier that night, with Lara. It gnawed horribly at both his sense of self preservation and his instinct to not be tied down. It made him want to flee. And yet somehow he was just rooted there against the wall, deer in headlights.

There were a few more exchanges and then Thomas ended the call, letting his phone clatter onto the counter and leaning against it, head down. Then he straightened and drained his wine before pouring another glass, trying not to think about just how much they didn't need another complication like this right now. Not with Robin's would-be killer still out there somewhere.

Robin took a deep breath, steeled his resolve, and marched back into the kitchen. Still naked.

He looked at Thomas with much the same expression he had when he'd grabbed his wrist earlier at the manor, green eyes flashing. "Yours, am I? Afraid she's going to poach your food source?"

Thomas jerked, turning to face him with a surprised expression. "What? No! I was just putting it in terms she would understand," he explained.

Robin didn't look convinced. He was still fighting his flight instinct. "Why am I here, Thomas? You've got us... playing house, and when's the last time you even needed to feed from someone else? Is that why Harry suggested I come here? Because he knew it would keep you from snacking from the clueless?"

Thomas shook his head, stunned that all of this was coming at him. "No, not at all! You're here so I can keep you safe!" he reminded him, setting the wine down and taking a step toward Robin, looking pained. "You're not food to me. It's not even about feeding."

Robin couldn't even say why, but he felt like he had to argue. That it was imperative he be right on this, because if he wasn't food, then it meant he was something else. But he couldn't even seem to find words anymore, just set his mouth into a straight line, and eventually blurted out, "What is it about then? I'm not like her."

"Not like her," Thomas agreed with a small shake of his head. "It's about...how you make me feel," he answered, reaching out to run his fingers over Robin's arm.

Immediately at Thomas' touch, Robin felt a familiar buzz of pure pleasure. And at the same time a cold wash of panic at the words. Feelings. No. He didn't do feelings. And it was very important now that he tell himself that wanting to throw himself into Thomas' arms and kiss him was only because of the way the demon made him feel.

It was addiction, it had to be. What else could possibly explain Robin wanting to be with Thomas after so long?

He actually looked stricken, as if he'd just come to some awful realization, but schooled his face into neutrality almost right away, and said, "I have to go." He turned and walked quickly back into the bedroom, pulling out clothes to put on.

Thomas followed him quietly into the bedroom, staying near the doorway. "Go where?" he asked quietly.

"Just... go. I need some air." Robin yanked on some pants, hopping a little to pull them up, and fastening them quickly. He didn't say he'd be back. He also didn't say he wouldn't be back. Because he honestly didn't know. He just knew that he needed to not be here.

Before Thomas could respond, Robin had yanked on a shirt. It was one of Thomas'.

He walked over to him, put his hands on his face, kissed him. Pleasure sparked through him again. And something else, something that made him want to stay. "God I love the way you make me feel," he said, but it didn't sound like a good thing. He pulled away and started toward the door.

Thomas watched him go without another word, one arm wrapped around his waist. He'd be back. He had to come back. It wasn't safe for him out there alone. Thomas could understand needing to get out for a bit, it had been an intense night. So he let him go.

But oh, it hurt to watch him walk away.

Thomas stopped by Harry's after he finished up at the salon, knocking on the door and not waiting for a reply before he tried the doorknob.

Harry was in the living room, pouring over some case file notes and photos--the grisly kind--that Murph gave him, a beer next to him on the table. He looked up when Thomas breezed in and gave his brother a raised eyebrow. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Run out of condoms? Because the 7/11 is down the street."

Thomas snarled a little and dug the bracelet out of his pocket, throwing it onto the table atop the photos without sparing them a glance. "It doesn't work," he growled. "Make another one for him. Without the sex charm." And with that said he turned to go again.

"Hey--wait." Harry picked up the bracelet, and watched as Mouse barred Thomas's path with a friendly wag. "What do you mean it doesn't work?"

Thomas glared at the dog and then gave Harry an annoyed look. "...It threw me across the room, okay?"

Harry and Mouse looked equally nonplussed by Thomas's glare. Instead he frowned and thumbed one of the charms on the leather thoughtfully. "When?"

"The second the Hunger became a part of things, just like I predicted," Thomas replied bitterly, because the bitterness hid the aching disappointment he still felt. "It's part of me. There's no way to change that. Just take it off, or make a new one without it and call me when it's ready." And he tried once again to leave.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to give me more than that," Harry replied, after a moment. "Like, when the Hunger starts. Otherwise the next attempt isn't going to be any better."

"Don't bother," Thomas snapped, running his hand through his hair. "I am what I am. You can't change that."

"I'm not," Harry shot back. "I'm just making the sex magic equivalent of Olestra."

Thomas shook his head and headed for the door, jaw clenched tight and head down.

Harry sighed, and waved a hand at Mouse to let him go. If Thomas wouldn't tell him what it was like--sex when feeding--maybe he could talk to someone that could.

Thomas had completely forgotten about the bracelet in all of the "get Robin drunk and find out more," planning, and it was a couple of days before he found it again, when he checked his pants pockets before sending them out to be washed. He set it on the dresser to give to Robin and then promptly forgot it once again until he came home from work.

"...Right," he muttered, scooping up the charm and taking it with him as he came out to the living room to put on some music and wait for Robin to get home. No time like the present to try out the new spell Harry had put on it.

Thomas parked his car in an empty space along the curb just down the street from Harry's place, and headed off to meet his brother as requested. He knew it was about Robin, though nothing more specific than that, and he was just a little bit anxious, in case Harry had bad news. Harry often seemed to have bad news, generally of the giant sharp teeth and claws variety, but Thomas already knew this problem involved that variety of bad news, so at least it wouldn't be much different from now.

He jogged down the steps to Harry's basement apartment, pulling out the pendant Harry had given him to disarm the wards, then knocking once before he opened the door. "Harry?" he called as he turned to shove the door firmly closed behind him.

There was one thing Thomas had always appreciated about Harry's basement lodgings; the small, high windows were kind enough to not let a lot of morning sunlight in when one was sleeping a hangover off on the couch.

Mister, on the other hand, knew nothing of kindness as he walked across Thomas' face and down his body, ignoring the 'oof' and the groan that followed as he leapt from the arm of the couch to the top of the bookcase where he gave Thomas a disinterested look in response to the bleary glare he was receiving.

"I always did love Mouse more," Thomas grumbled, cranky, and pulled the blanket over his head as he rolled over on his side, back to the room. Stupid cat.

Though the apartment was still dark, and silent, there was a large, wrapped package in shiny white paper next to Thomas's head, and a small bottle with a handwritten tag of Hangover in Harry's memorable scrawl.

Thomas noticed the package, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he was nearly asleep again before before it really registered, what it was, why it was there. "Harrrrry," he groaned, turning back over to stare at the package, then at the bottle. It seemed almost not worth the effort of moving to reach for it, even if Thomas trusted Harry's potions and therefore that it would do as advertised. What it would taste like was another matter.

Thomas sat up carefully, holding his head until the room stopped tilting. The hangover wasn't as bad as it should have been, thanks to his demon, but it was still bad enough to make him reach out and pick up the waiting bottle, opening it to take a sniff. "...Ugh You need to learn how to make them cherry-flavored," he muttered grumpily before taking a deep breath and downing the contents, grimacing as he set the bottle down with a thump.

Harry could hear Thomas talking in the other room and shook his head. It was, after all, just a dream, and it wasn't his fault at all. Thomas was an incubus--it was genetic. He'd probably zapped Harry with some kind of vampire mojo accidentally while he was drunk. That was all.

He got up and grabbed his robe, then padded out to the living room to see how the drunken incubus was fairing. "Good morning," he said, cheerfully, and maybe just a little bit louder than necessary.

"Unh," Thomas replied, cranky. He could feel the effects of the potion already starting, but that didn't make him any more of a morning person. He amended his initial grunt with, "Coffee."

"Still not a morning person," Harry observed, smile wry. He made his way to the kitchen and took out the coffee press and pre-ground coffee, then filled the kettle and put it on the wood stove to boil. They did things the old-fashioned way in this house--by necessity, not eccentricity.

Thomas let his head fall into his hands, knowing it would be a few minutes before he could get properly caffeinated. "...You didn't have to get me anything," he muttered after a minute.

"What do you get the man who has everything?" Harry mocked. He shrugged a shoulder. "You're my brother. I get to give you presents whether you like it or not."

"Yeah, yeah." Thomas lifted his head, looking over at Harry. "I'll open it as soon as I'm awake."

Harry shrugged again, keeping his back to Thomas. His heart was still racing as if he'd taken a perk-me-up potion and he moved towards the icebox, staring blankly. "Hungry?"

Thomas grunted and gave a faint shake of his head. "Nuh."

"You sure? You didn't eat much last night. Food, I mean. And uh...here. I have no idea if you ate...out." Smooth, Harry. Really smooth.

Thomas sighed and leaned back against the couch. "I didn't. Eat out. Food or otherwise," he answered darkly. "I just want coffee."

As if answering his wishes, the kettle began to whistle, and Harry moved to take it off the stove, grateful for the distraction. He filled the coffee press with grounds and water and then slowly moved the plunger down. "Maybe you should have," he muttered.

Thomas heard, of course he did. His enhanced hearing made sure of that. His jaw tightened but he didn't say anything, just stretched out on the couch again, tangled up in the blanket Harry had covered him with last night.

Harry poured two mugs of coffee and brought one to Thomas without saying anything further. Mouse padded out of his bedroom with an impressive yawn and stretched, front legs first, then back legs as he walked towards the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. "None for you, bud," he said, crossly. "I think Mister's still traumatized from the last time you lapped up some caffeine."

"Dear God," Thomas exclaimed at the very thought, getting up on one elbow and reaching out for the coffee. "I shudder to think."

"Yeah, pretty much," Harry agreed. Once Thomas had his cup, he settled in his favorite armchair, inhaling the aroma greedily.

Thomas spent a few minutes just sucking down the hot coffee, feeling it start to kick in, perking him up far better than the burn of the hangover potion. "Bless you," he murmured finally, raising grey eyes from the coffee to his brother.

Harry didn't answer, too absorbed in his own cup, but nodded, acknowledging his thanks. Mouse finally moved from the kitchen to curl up at Thomas's feet. Or, well, on them.

That was okay, Thomas wasn't going anywhere just yet. And it was kind of nice, in a way. Just like when they'd been living together. It was easy to forget how they'd gotten on each other's nerves, to just remember how nice it had been to see Harry regularly, to have someone there who would always have his back. He knew Harry was still there if he needed him, but it wasn't quite the same, these days. "So. Should I open it now?" he asked, letting one hand fall away from the coffee cup to reach out and touch the wrapped package.

"It's your birthday," Harry replied with a shrug. "Technically it's late, so...."

Thomas nodded, took another sip of coffee, then set it aside and pulled the present onto his lap. He tore away the paper carelessly, and then stared at the box beneath it. "...Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots?" he read, looking up at Harry with a confused expression.

"Yeah," Harry's expression was guarded. "Old Earth toy. You know how they keep bringing everything back....next it's Ataris and Nintendos."

"Uh huh. Like you've been anywhere near a video game system." Thomas opened the box, just to make sure--yep, it really was what the box said. "And...why did you get me a toy?"

Harry pursed his lips and lifted his eyes from his coffee to Thomas's face. "When my dad died...before I went to live with...." Justin. But he wouldn't say his name. "I spent Christmas in an orphanage. And that year the 'it' toy was Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. They had these commercials...two boys playing with them. Two brothers. And more than anything...I wanted to give those robots to my brother."

Okay, now it made more sense. "So...you did." He looked up and smiled at Harry, a little awkwardly. "Thanks. I think." He wasn't sure what he was ever going to do with them, but the sentiment behind the gift...that was something neither of them were used to expressing, familial love.

"Thirty years late," Harry said, his expression turning wry. "I didn't even know I had a brother at the time. But I wanted one. Oh, the innocence of youth...."

"But now you have one." Thomas smirked. "And you know what a pain in the ass it is."

"At least what a pain in the ass you are," Harry shot back. Banter was much more familiar ground for them than sentimentality.

"I do try," Thomas breezed, smiling beatifically. "It's good to know my efforts are appreciated."

The comment earned a snort from his long-suffering brother. "I see the hangover potion is kicking in."

"Thanks. For that," Thomas said simply, flashing a quick smile. "And for last night. Sorry about anything I said..." Or did.

"So...you don't really think that I could be as good looking as you are with the right hairstyle?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I wasn't that drunk," he drawled.

Harry grinned. "No. You weren't. So...there's nothing to apologize for. Except maybe your singing."

And the almost-kiss, but if Harry wasn't going to mention that, Thomas would happily pretend he didn't remember it. "I sang? Lucky you..."

"Yeah, it's almost like it's my birthday, too," Harry said, dryly. Mister paused from his bath to walk across Harry's lap and curl up like he belonged there.

Thomas chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd ask if I could take a shower before I go, but...I don't trust your water heater." He grabbed his coffee and drained the rest of it. "So I'll just shower back at my place."

"The water heater?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's the fact that I don't have any of those foofy perfumed shampoos and washes?"

"That certainly doesn't help your shower's case." Thomas got to his feet, setting his coffee cup on the table and tucking his present under his arm. "I'll see you later, Harry. Thanks again for the weirdly sweet gift."

Harry wouldn't admit it, but he was actually a little hurt that Thomas didn't want to open said weirdly sweet present and actually, well, play with it. But he shrugged casually. "I thought you didn't like the taste of hangover potion."

"I don't. It's nasty. But it's better than the taste of a hangover." Thomas grinned and headed for the door.

Mouse, perhaps sensing Harry's mood, moved from his position on the couch to lay his head on Harry's leg. Harry absently scratched the foo dog behind the ears. "So...I'll see you later?"

"Of course." Thomas nodded, gave a little wave, and was out the door.

Harry watched him go, exchanged a look with Mouse, and then stood up to get another cup of coffee. "Ingrate," he grumped. "Not you," he assured the dog hastily.