Title: An Audience with the Queen (WIP?)
Rated: PG-13 (for kissing and groping but not much more than that)
Pairings: The Queen/Bastian (?), Bastian/Atreyu
Night has fully settled by the time Bastian returns to The Tower.
He still can't help but be amazed by the subtle, yet striking, changes to the grand palace that is the physical heart of Fantasia. He makes his way through the wide, twisting corridors, heading straight for the Queen's throne room. If it can be called that. The wide doors open before him and Bastian tries not to look too closely at the various activities occurring around him. There's sensual music and laughter, the scent of something foreign in the air.
And sex. Always sex.
Bastian can't help but flush a little as his eyes linger on the scene of two nymphs entwined together on a narrow couch; he's getting better, getting used to such blatant displays. But still, he's a teenaged boy. He finally tears his eyes away just as one of the nymphs cries out in pleasure, instead focusing on the figure clad in white in the center of the room.
The Queen is watching him as he approaches -- she always does -- and he allows himself to be presumptious as he ascends the dias to sit beside her reclining form. Her "throne" looks much more like a lavish bed than a fancy uncomfortable chair, but Bastian doesn't care. His eyes are on her body, clad in white silks tonight -- silks that make him want to reach out and touch and stroke and feel where the silk of her dress ends and the silk of her skin begins. But that's the point, isn't it? That's who the Queen is in the Night.
The Queen smiles at him, propping herself on one elbow and reaching out with her other hand to stroke his cheek.
"My Queen," Bastian greets her, and watches as her eyes darken in arousal and her breath hitch in her throat. It's always like this -- this reaction from those that's he's created or helped to create for the Night. It makes a thrill of excitment shiver down his spine.
"You're back, Bastian," her voice drips with honey and Bastian doesn't protest as she draws his head down for a proper welcome, one that involves their lips and mouths and quite a bit of tongue. It's only fitting that the Queen doesn't complain when Bastian gives into his desires and runs one hand over her body, from the dip of her waist to her thigh, then back up until he's cupping one silk-draped breast in his hand. Her husky laugh bubbles up, and Bastian knows that her courtiers are watching them, but he doesn't care.
"Did things go well?"
"As well as can be expected. The farther from the Tower, the more confused some are about the Night. It's just like we both thought." Bastian is still running his hand over the Queen's body, toying with the layers of her dress.
The Queen lays back more, her hand warm and kneading his thigh. "I knew it would be so. Delegations will be sent out, to inform them of the Rules of Night. It will take some time before everything settles, Bastian. Don't worry so much."
Bastian sighs, and the Queen looks over him with worry.
"Did anything... happen?"
He shakes his head, pulling the silken material over the Queen's breasts, then peeling it back again. "No, nothing like that. I'm just... tired."
The Queen gives him another one of those smiles that would have her courtiers on their knees before her in a heartbeat. "Will you join me tonight then?" she asks.
Bastian flushes a little and shakes his head. He really should be used to the Queen's propositions, but for some reason they still surprise him.
"Not tonight, my Queen. I'm sorry. I really just want to see --" Bastian pauses, then flushes red again when the Queen starts to laugh.
"Yes yes... only a few days away from him, and you long for him."
"Actually... I haven't... I haven't seen him since... since..." Since the change,
Bastian's mind finishes for him, though he cannot speak the words. Instantly, the Queen's eyes are looking into his, and Bastian fights against the instinct to cower before her and beg forgiveness. Always, always, she can make him feel this way. As if she is looking into his very soul.
"Are you ashamed of who you are?" the Queen queries, and Bastian bites his bottom lip. "Are you ashamed of what you've created, Bastian?"
Bastian blinks and shakes his head furiously, his face flushed with anger instead of embarassment. "No! Never! I would never be ashamed of Atreyu! It's just that I... he... I wanted..." I wanted to make sure that this was real, or as real as Fantasia could be. I wanted to know that he wouldn't hate me for what I've made him into.
He locks eyes with the Queen and watches her harsh expression mellow back into pleasant features. In an instant he knows that she understands, that's she's seen and felt and experienced everything Fantasia -- Night or Day -- has to offer. Then she sighs softly, drawing his head back down to kiss again. "Go to your warrior, Bastian. He's waiting for you, and he wants you, too."
Bastian smiles in relief, his courage and confidence returned with her words, and nods to the Queen before practically dashing off the dias and out of the throne room. Yes, it was foolish of him to think that Atreyu would not care for him -- want him -- in the same way. Atreyu is his, made for him, by his own hands. Bastian practically runs down the ivory hallways to his own set of chambers, reserved for when his stays in Fantasia.
He throws the door open, panting for breath, and dark eyes meet his own.
"Bastian!" Atreyu calls out with joy and relief and surprise, and then the dark-skinned boy is in his arms, kissing Bastian with all his pent-up lust and adoration. Bastian meets those desperate kisses with equal fervor.
Yes, he was foolish.
He'll have to thank the Queen.