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estepheiaAs usual, this is unbeta'd. Hope it works. Took me a long time to write.
This part is NC-17. Yup, it's true, there's genuine smut in here. Have fun.
Earlier chapters are here.
Part 8a - Shine
It was late, almost noon, by the time Ethan reached for his wallet to pay for their breakfast. He was chipper, not only because after two years of culinary deprivation bacon and eggs tasted like magic, but also because he felt one step closer towards gaining his apprentice's trust. Not that he expected the young lawyer to ever trust him completely, he wasn't the type, but a modicum of trust was essential for what Ethan had in mind. So, when his heart skipped a beat in an unexpectedly nervous flutter, he dismissed the feeling at once. His ticker was fine – the Initiative doctors had often said so during their experiments.
During the walk back to the hotel, Ethan's restlessness grew, and it had nothing to do with being horny, even though getting laid was high up on Ethan's list of priorities.
Back in their room, he rifled through the remaining unopened boxes. He found mostly leftovers from when he'd bespelled the hotel. Nothing of worth, just commonplace stuff that had been too bulky to take along when he'd left, but too good to throw out. Soon the room was littered with books, crystals, pots, a Bunsen burner, a small rack of test tubes, and two dozen preserving jars full of colored salts, minerals, and organic spell components. It resembled an alchemist's yard sale.
Ethan stared at the mess with mounting irritation. Frowning, he picked up a jar of newt's eyes and sniffed. Gone off. He screwed the lid back on and dropped the whole jar into the wastebasket. It landed with a loud ker-plunk, but thankfully it didn't break.
"What are you looking for?" Lindsey asked. He was lounging on the bed, one arm cushioning his head, the fingers of the other drumming impatiently on his denim-clad thigh, as though itching to strum the strings of his guitar. He hadn't bothered taking his boots off. The lad looked utterly fuck-worthy from head to toe – and he bloody well knew it.
Ethan sighed inwardly. What he wouldn't give right now for a nice, uncomplicated shag. Nothing fancy, just a quick warm-up blowjob and then a slow comfortable fuck underneath that mirror, or against the wall… or both. Unfortunately Lindsey was anything but uncomplicated. Ethan still hadn't quite sussed out what it took to get him to drop his pants. He liked to think that he could nail a person's kinks at fifty paces, but in Lindsey's case he wasn't even sure if the lad was a top or bottom. The boy had a strong competitive streak, but he also knew how to bow to authority. Oh well, at least Ethan had found a few buttons that were worth pushing….
"Well? What are you looking for?" Lindsey repeated.
"Something to scry with," Ethan replied mechanically, his gaze briefly flitting to the stolen pack of tarot cards that sat on the telly, before gravitating back to the young man on the bed. The nervous knot in Ethan's stomach lessened.
"Scry?" Lindsey repeated. He sat up. His movements had the combined grace and strength of youth, perfect health, and probably some martial arts training. "As in information gathering? Like a locator spell?"
Although he'd just eaten, Ethan felt a sudden pang of hunger sweep his remaining apprehension away. No need for tarot cards. Those were for New Age chicks and Wicca wannabes anyway. That gut feeling? Probably just indigestion anyway. He graced his student with a mocking smile. "My my, aren't we eager?" he said, raising his hands as if to ward off an enthusiastic puppy. "Let's stick to making pencils stand up, shall we? Speaking of standing up…."
* * *
Rayne disappeared inside the bathroom and returned with a transparent plastic cup. "Fill this up for me, will you? I need as much as you can come up with," he said, his mouth twitching. He indicated the colorful assortment of alchemical ingredients. "I have enough stuff here to concoct some body paint. Give me an hour or two and you can play with your pencil without my help."
Lindsey squinted at the old sorcerer. "Fill this with what?" he asked.
"What do you think?" Rayne said, faking innocence.
"You want to paint me with my own jism?" Lindsey asked, just to be sure.
"Life's a bitch." Rayne's smirked.
"You've got to be kidding."
"It's the nature of the spell. The runes let you store magical power, but they're choosy. They only 'accept' power from a pre-determined source. I decided to do you a favour and tie the spell to your prick – metaphorically speaking. After all, a good fuck is easier to come by than a complicated ritual."
"Let me get this straight: I gotta fuck someone first, before I can do magic?"
"Or get fucked." Rayne said cheerfully, giving the plastic cup an inviting shake. "I knew you were a smart lad the moment I clapped eyes on you."
Okay, of all the attempts to get into his pants that Lindsey had encountered since he turned fifteen, this had to be the most absurd. He remembered from Rayne's file that the man had a tendency to think with his dick, and he had no qualms exploiting that knowledge to his advantage. The man's sexual word-plays didn't really faze Lindsey, not anymore. It was a battle of wits – feint, parry, thrust. Fun, too. And as long as the old fool was thinking about Lindsey's ass, he had little incentive to plot other, nastier ways of doublecrossing him. But this was unexpectedly blatant. Somehow he'd expected Rayne to be more… subtle. It was almost disappointing.
"No way. Use something else."
"Alright," the sorcerer agreed amiably. "Blood works just as well. Better, in fact."
"And I'd have to do what, cut myself every time I want to do a spell?" Lindsey asked, unimpressed, thinking of the scars he'd seen on Rayne's arms.The concept of using bodily fluids for arcane purposes wasn't exactly left field. Hello? He'd worked for a firm who required their employees to sign contracts in blood. A lot less ridiculous than jerking off into a cup.
Rayne did not answer. His face was unreadable, but his silence was more telling than words. He wasn't suggesting self-mutilation, he meant spilling someone else's blood. "Forget I asked," Lindsey said, annoyed at himself for being so slow on the uptake. Somehow cold-blooded murder hadn't seemed like part of Rayne's repertoire.
"The world is full of people no one will ever miss," Rayne said without batting an eyelid.
Yeah, full of small time crooks, tramps, homeless people, runaway kids, whores. People like Brad Scott. Expendable. Human resources, with the stress on resource. "I know," Lindsey said. Suppressing a shudder, he flexed the fingers of his right hand. Brad's hand.
"Maybe you'd prefer to do a pretty girl? Remember Starshine?" the chaos mage continued softly. There was no way of telling whether Rayne was serious or just trying to push Lindsey's buttons. Was this some kind of test? The man's eyes looked like polished onyx, inscrutable. "You could make it quick. The girl wouldn't have to suffer. Not unless you wanted her to…."
Starshine, yeah. The gum-chewing girl in the record store. The one that had been so inexplicably keen on sharing her phone number with an old guy she'd only just met. Lindsey didn't care for her one way or another, but the prospect of leaving a trail of butchered bodies in his wake like some whacko serial killer didn't appeal to him. Not that the cops would ever catch him, but still. Lindsey shook his head. "Not my style."
Something predatory in Rayne's features softened almost imperceptably. "No? Then be a good boy and give me what I need."
Lindsey glared at him, unwilling to admit defeat.
"Need a hand?" Rayne asked mockingly.
Lindsey wordlessly snatched the cup out of his hand.
"Stay here or use the bathroom. I don't care," Rayne said, guessing correclty what went on in Lindsey's mind. "But if I were you I'd turn the telly on. Might help. Oh, and take your time."
Lindsey didn't bother replying. He shuffled around until he was comfortable, placed the cup on the bed beside him, then picked up the remote. He flipped through the channels until he came across a bathroom scene that looked promising: A tattooed masseur was rubbing oil onto the back of a very evenly tanned blonde. The guy didn't look half bad, muscled but lean, but it was the woman who caught Lindsey's attention. Long legs, narrow waist, nice butt, short platinum blonde hair and a naughty smile. A second man, dark-haired and slim, clearly meant to be the woman's husband or boyfriend, was watching them, slowly stroking his cock to hardness.
Lindsey half expected Rayne to bring out the popcorn and try to get an eyeful, but the old sorcerer turned his back on him and busied himself tidying up. Actually, the sounds of rummaging were distracting. Lindsey turned up the volume on the TV, hoping in a vindictive part of his brain that the sounds of panting and moaning would give the old bastard a hard-on the size of Texas. A hard-on Lindsey had no intention of relieving, unless Rayne got reincarnated as a size 10 blonde, and probably not even then.
On the TV screen the woman turned over, inviting the masseur to rub oil on her tits. Lindsey let his hand drift to his crotch, where his dick was already straining against the zipper. He cupped his hard-on through the fabric of his pants and boxers, squeezing and rubbing. He felt like he'd been hard for hours -- which wasn't far from the truth. The ritual had made him horny like hell and Rayne's constant innuendos hadn't helped matters.
The woman parted her legs a little, as though to tease the masseur. Oh yeah. The man's fingers stroked and rubbed her firm thighs and ass, traveling almost furtively towards her shaven pussy.
Trying to keep his breathing even and his movements sure and controlled, Lindsey slowly unbuttoned his pants and eased out his cock – wondering if Rayne was watching but deliberately not turning his head to find out. Let him watch. It wasn't like one could catch anything from a horny onlooker.
Onscreen, the woman got up, and husband-guy from the pool took her place. While the masseur was kneading her husband's back and ass, the woman slid her hand into the masseur's briefs, fondling his hardening cock underneath the white fabric.
Soon Lindsey was thrusting into his hand. 'Take your time.' He snorted, but he tried to be as slow as he could. He didn't stop or zap to another channel when the masseur and husband-guy started to kiss, or when the masseur got an expert blowjob from husband and wife. Lucky guy, was all Lindsey could think – and holy shit! – when the husband took the masseur's cock deep into his throat. Not quite the threesome he'd expected, but who the fuck cared?
Part of him wondered if Rayne liked sucking other men off… and whether he was any good at it. Probably. One of the stray images he'd picked up during the link with Rayne had been from that perspective. Rayne, on his knees, sucking off a tall, bookish looking man. Lindsey's heart, already hammering rapidly, sped up some more, and so did his hand.
The panting and grunting on screen were the only sounds in the room. What was Rayne doing? Was he watching? Was he looking at the screen or at Lindsey's cock? Lindsey would have liked to know, but he stubbornly kept his eyes glued to the screen, watching husband-guy take his 'wife' from behind, taking his cue from their rhythm, pushing into his hand every time the man thrust into the woman… Soon his hand was slick with pre-cum.
When the masseur aligned his thick cock at the husband's hole, and when he forged inside, slicked by nothing but a bit of spit, Lindsey shuddered. Purple sparks seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Fucking a good-looking woman while being fucked from behind? Yeah… his mouth was dry, and his heart was beating madly. He felt like a race-horse thundering towards the finishing line, panting and sweating, going faster and faster, straining forward …
Yes, almost… there….
Fuck… Something touched his left hand, startling him. The plastic cup! He grabbed it by reflex and looked up – right into the eyes of Ethan Rayne. He wrenched his gaze away, as something that might be anger but probably wasn't slammed into him with the subtlety of a runaway truck. He came hard only a dozen heartbeats later and in almost as many bursts, spending himself into the cup without a single thought for the absurdity of the situation.
That came later, when a hand appeared in his field of vision to first turn off the TV and then gingerly pry the cup out of his hands.
"Thank you," Rayne said softly, sounding more British than ever. He held the plastic glass like a teacup, with his pinky sticking out, and peered at the contents. "Perfect."
"Whatever you do with that," Lindsey croaked in a feeble attempt at humor, "don't expect me to pay alimony."
"Oh, you're one of those, are you?" Rayne laughed affably. If one looked closely, he was flushed, breathing heavily, and his eyes were even darker than usual. For a second the sorcerer seemed undecided, on the verge of saying or maybe doing something that was against his nature, but in the end he merely gave Lindsey a pat on the shoulder and turned away, giving Lindsey a welcome and innuendo-free opportunity to tuck himself away and freshen up.
The bathroom was soothingly chilly. Lindsey washed his hands and splashed some cold water into his heated face. When he looked up and into the mirror, the face that stared back at him seemed to belong to a stranger.
TBC
This part is NC-17. Yup, it's true, there's genuine smut in here. Have fun.
Earlier chapters are here.
Part 8a - Shine
It was late, almost noon, by the time Ethan reached for his wallet to pay for their breakfast. He was chipper, not only because after two years of culinary deprivation bacon and eggs tasted like magic, but also because he felt one step closer towards gaining his apprentice's trust. Not that he expected the young lawyer to ever trust him completely, he wasn't the type, but a modicum of trust was essential for what Ethan had in mind. So, when his heart skipped a beat in an unexpectedly nervous flutter, he dismissed the feeling at once. His ticker was fine – the Initiative doctors had often said so during their experiments.
During the walk back to the hotel, Ethan's restlessness grew, and it had nothing to do with being horny, even though getting laid was high up on Ethan's list of priorities.
Back in their room, he rifled through the remaining unopened boxes. He found mostly leftovers from when he'd bespelled the hotel. Nothing of worth, just commonplace stuff that had been too bulky to take along when he'd left, but too good to throw out. Soon the room was littered with books, crystals, pots, a Bunsen burner, a small rack of test tubes, and two dozen preserving jars full of colored salts, minerals, and organic spell components. It resembled an alchemist's yard sale.
Ethan stared at the mess with mounting irritation. Frowning, he picked up a jar of newt's eyes and sniffed. Gone off. He screwed the lid back on and dropped the whole jar into the wastebasket. It landed with a loud ker-plunk, but thankfully it didn't break.
"What are you looking for?" Lindsey asked. He was lounging on the bed, one arm cushioning his head, the fingers of the other drumming impatiently on his denim-clad thigh, as though itching to strum the strings of his guitar. He hadn't bothered taking his boots off. The lad looked utterly fuck-worthy from head to toe – and he bloody well knew it.
Ethan sighed inwardly. What he wouldn't give right now for a nice, uncomplicated shag. Nothing fancy, just a quick warm-up blowjob and then a slow comfortable fuck underneath that mirror, or against the wall… or both. Unfortunately Lindsey was anything but uncomplicated. Ethan still hadn't quite sussed out what it took to get him to drop his pants. He liked to think that he could nail a person's kinks at fifty paces, but in Lindsey's case he wasn't even sure if the lad was a top or bottom. The boy had a strong competitive streak, but he also knew how to bow to authority. Oh well, at least Ethan had found a few buttons that were worth pushing….
"Well? What are you looking for?" Lindsey repeated.
"Something to scry with," Ethan replied mechanically, his gaze briefly flitting to the stolen pack of tarot cards that sat on the telly, before gravitating back to the young man on the bed. The nervous knot in Ethan's stomach lessened.
"Scry?" Lindsey repeated. He sat up. His movements had the combined grace and strength of youth, perfect health, and probably some martial arts training. "As in information gathering? Like a locator spell?"
Although he'd just eaten, Ethan felt a sudden pang of hunger sweep his remaining apprehension away. No need for tarot cards. Those were for New Age chicks and Wicca wannabes anyway. That gut feeling? Probably just indigestion anyway. He graced his student with a mocking smile. "My my, aren't we eager?" he said, raising his hands as if to ward off an enthusiastic puppy. "Let's stick to making pencils stand up, shall we? Speaking of standing up…."
* * *
Rayne disappeared inside the bathroom and returned with a transparent plastic cup. "Fill this up for me, will you? I need as much as you can come up with," he said, his mouth twitching. He indicated the colorful assortment of alchemical ingredients. "I have enough stuff here to concoct some body paint. Give me an hour or two and you can play with your pencil without my help."
Lindsey squinted at the old sorcerer. "Fill this with what?" he asked.
"What do you think?" Rayne said, faking innocence.
"You want to paint me with my own jism?" Lindsey asked, just to be sure.
"Life's a bitch." Rayne's smirked.
"You've got to be kidding."
"It's the nature of the spell. The runes let you store magical power, but they're choosy. They only 'accept' power from a pre-determined source. I decided to do you a favour and tie the spell to your prick – metaphorically speaking. After all, a good fuck is easier to come by than a complicated ritual."
"Let me get this straight: I gotta fuck someone first, before I can do magic?"
"Or get fucked." Rayne said cheerfully, giving the plastic cup an inviting shake. "I knew you were a smart lad the moment I clapped eyes on you."
Okay, of all the attempts to get into his pants that Lindsey had encountered since he turned fifteen, this had to be the most absurd. He remembered from Rayne's file that the man had a tendency to think with his dick, and he had no qualms exploiting that knowledge to his advantage. The man's sexual word-plays didn't really faze Lindsey, not anymore. It was a battle of wits – feint, parry, thrust. Fun, too. And as long as the old fool was thinking about Lindsey's ass, he had little incentive to plot other, nastier ways of doublecrossing him. But this was unexpectedly blatant. Somehow he'd expected Rayne to be more… subtle. It was almost disappointing.
"No way. Use something else."
"Alright," the sorcerer agreed amiably. "Blood works just as well. Better, in fact."
"And I'd have to do what, cut myself every time I want to do a spell?" Lindsey asked, unimpressed, thinking of the scars he'd seen on Rayne's arms.The concept of using bodily fluids for arcane purposes wasn't exactly left field. Hello? He'd worked for a firm who required their employees to sign contracts in blood. A lot less ridiculous than jerking off into a cup.
Rayne did not answer. His face was unreadable, but his silence was more telling than words. He wasn't suggesting self-mutilation, he meant spilling someone else's blood. "Forget I asked," Lindsey said, annoyed at himself for being so slow on the uptake. Somehow cold-blooded murder hadn't seemed like part of Rayne's repertoire.
"The world is full of people no one will ever miss," Rayne said without batting an eyelid.
Yeah, full of small time crooks, tramps, homeless people, runaway kids, whores. People like Brad Scott. Expendable. Human resources, with the stress on resource. "I know," Lindsey said. Suppressing a shudder, he flexed the fingers of his right hand. Brad's hand.
"Maybe you'd prefer to do a pretty girl? Remember Starshine?" the chaos mage continued softly. There was no way of telling whether Rayne was serious or just trying to push Lindsey's buttons. Was this some kind of test? The man's eyes looked like polished onyx, inscrutable. "You could make it quick. The girl wouldn't have to suffer. Not unless you wanted her to…."
Starshine, yeah. The gum-chewing girl in the record store. The one that had been so inexplicably keen on sharing her phone number with an old guy she'd only just met. Lindsey didn't care for her one way or another, but the prospect of leaving a trail of butchered bodies in his wake like some whacko serial killer didn't appeal to him. Not that the cops would ever catch him, but still. Lindsey shook his head. "Not my style."
Something predatory in Rayne's features softened almost imperceptably. "No? Then be a good boy and give me what I need."
Lindsey glared at him, unwilling to admit defeat.
"Need a hand?" Rayne asked mockingly.
Lindsey wordlessly snatched the cup out of his hand.
"Stay here or use the bathroom. I don't care," Rayne said, guessing correclty what went on in Lindsey's mind. "But if I were you I'd turn the telly on. Might help. Oh, and take your time."
Lindsey didn't bother replying. He shuffled around until he was comfortable, placed the cup on the bed beside him, then picked up the remote. He flipped through the channels until he came across a bathroom scene that looked promising: A tattooed masseur was rubbing oil onto the back of a very evenly tanned blonde. The guy didn't look half bad, muscled but lean, but it was the woman who caught Lindsey's attention. Long legs, narrow waist, nice butt, short platinum blonde hair and a naughty smile. A second man, dark-haired and slim, clearly meant to be the woman's husband or boyfriend, was watching them, slowly stroking his cock to hardness.
Lindsey half expected Rayne to bring out the popcorn and try to get an eyeful, but the old sorcerer turned his back on him and busied himself tidying up. Actually, the sounds of rummaging were distracting. Lindsey turned up the volume on the TV, hoping in a vindictive part of his brain that the sounds of panting and moaning would give the old bastard a hard-on the size of Texas. A hard-on Lindsey had no intention of relieving, unless Rayne got reincarnated as a size 10 blonde, and probably not even then.
On the TV screen the woman turned over, inviting the masseur to rub oil on her tits. Lindsey let his hand drift to his crotch, where his dick was already straining against the zipper. He cupped his hard-on through the fabric of his pants and boxers, squeezing and rubbing. He felt like he'd been hard for hours -- which wasn't far from the truth. The ritual had made him horny like hell and Rayne's constant innuendos hadn't helped matters.
The woman parted her legs a little, as though to tease the masseur. Oh yeah. The man's fingers stroked and rubbed her firm thighs and ass, traveling almost furtively towards her shaven pussy.
Trying to keep his breathing even and his movements sure and controlled, Lindsey slowly unbuttoned his pants and eased out his cock – wondering if Rayne was watching but deliberately not turning his head to find out. Let him watch. It wasn't like one could catch anything from a horny onlooker.
Onscreen, the woman got up, and husband-guy from the pool took her place. While the masseur was kneading her husband's back and ass, the woman slid her hand into the masseur's briefs, fondling his hardening cock underneath the white fabric.
Soon Lindsey was thrusting into his hand. 'Take your time.' He snorted, but he tried to be as slow as he could. He didn't stop or zap to another channel when the masseur and husband-guy started to kiss, or when the masseur got an expert blowjob from husband and wife. Lucky guy, was all Lindsey could think – and holy shit! – when the husband took the masseur's cock deep into his throat. Not quite the threesome he'd expected, but who the fuck cared?
Part of him wondered if Rayne liked sucking other men off… and whether he was any good at it. Probably. One of the stray images he'd picked up during the link with Rayne had been from that perspective. Rayne, on his knees, sucking off a tall, bookish looking man. Lindsey's heart, already hammering rapidly, sped up some more, and so did his hand.
The panting and grunting on screen were the only sounds in the room. What was Rayne doing? Was he watching? Was he looking at the screen or at Lindsey's cock? Lindsey would have liked to know, but he stubbornly kept his eyes glued to the screen, watching husband-guy take his 'wife' from behind, taking his cue from their rhythm, pushing into his hand every time the man thrust into the woman… Soon his hand was slick with pre-cum.
When the masseur aligned his thick cock at the husband's hole, and when he forged inside, slicked by nothing but a bit of spit, Lindsey shuddered. Purple sparks seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Fucking a good-looking woman while being fucked from behind? Yeah… his mouth was dry, and his heart was beating madly. He felt like a race-horse thundering towards the finishing line, panting and sweating, going faster and faster, straining forward …
Yes, almost… there….
Fuck… Something touched his left hand, startling him. The plastic cup! He grabbed it by reflex and looked up – right into the eyes of Ethan Rayne. He wrenched his gaze away, as something that might be anger but probably wasn't slammed into him with the subtlety of a runaway truck. He came hard only a dozen heartbeats later and in almost as many bursts, spending himself into the cup without a single thought for the absurdity of the situation.
That came later, when a hand appeared in his field of vision to first turn off the TV and then gingerly pry the cup out of his hands.
"Thank you," Rayne said softly, sounding more British than ever. He held the plastic glass like a teacup, with his pinky sticking out, and peered at the contents. "Perfect."
"Whatever you do with that," Lindsey croaked in a feeble attempt at humor, "don't expect me to pay alimony."
"Oh, you're one of those, are you?" Rayne laughed affably. If one looked closely, he was flushed, breathing heavily, and his eyes were even darker than usual. For a second the sorcerer seemed undecided, on the verge of saying or maybe doing something that was against his nature, but in the end he merely gave Lindsey a pat on the shoulder and turned away, giving Lindsey a welcome and innuendo-free opportunity to tuck himself away and freshen up.
The bathroom was soothingly chilly. Lindsey washed his hands and splashed some cold water into his heated face. When he looked up and into the mirror, the face that stared back at him seemed to belong to a stranger.
TBC
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no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 09:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 12:01 pm (UTC)Make yourself at home.
This pairing is so desperately unpopular, it's sometimes hard to keep at it, but I have reached the point where I couldn't stop working on it even if threatened with bodily harm. ;-)
I'm glad you're enjoying it. Please, feel free to point out if anything seems unplausible or ooc - okay, the whole premise requires some suspension of disbelief, but I try very hard to keep both characters consistent. Which is very hard because both are walking a very narrow line, no longer whole-heartedly evil, bot not actively seeking redemption either. That's what makes this so appealing, and I hope suspenseful.
Please excuse my long-windedness. This was me trying to say a heartfelt thank you. :-)
no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 06:00 pm (UTC)And that's a bad thing? :)
You're very welcome! As I mentioned, I love unconventional pairings and know a thing or two about the unpopular/odd pairing. I think above all for the challenge they present in the writing. Being able to make two characters work together that most people shake their heads and say wtf? is a great accomplishment.
*makes self at home*
no subject
Date: 2004-10-09 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-10 12:30 am (UTC)Thank you so much for commenting.
I have to admit I probably wouldn't glance twice at most unconventional pairings - as a reader I mostly read about Spike or I read stuff written about my friends, and lately I read almost anything involving Ethan, so I can see why this story is a bit under the radar.
I am always insanely happy when someone new stumbles over the story. I'm even more happy if that someone likes it, so thank you for letting me know.
I made a lot of progress on chapter 10 yesterday, writing out of sequence. As for the second half of chapter 8, I intend to work on that today....
Cheers
no subject
Date: 2004-10-10 02:29 pm (UTC)Re: the unconventional pairings...I think some of the more interesting work will come from those, because while I love Spike and always will there is more room for people to be creative with the non-central characters. I think that's one thing that makes the Jossverse so rich and full of fanfic possibilities: there are so many interesting minor characters that have the potential to be fleshed out into major characters in their own right.
BTW, we did meet briefly at Writercon, but we never got a chance to really talk, for which I am heartily sorry.
Alright!
Date: 2004-10-09 03:56 pm (UTC)Re: Alright!
Date: 2004-10-10 11:01 am (UTC)I think I have at least one surprise up my sleeve. *chuckles*
Right now the story is going well. I hope to write more tonight, although I don't know if I will get enough done for a new installment. We'll see. :-)