Cristina and Her Faerie Boys

Part 1

***very slight Lord of Shadows spoilers***

AN: Takes place within Chapter 13 Dreamland

Cristina awoke suddenly. Her eyes flashing open to an unfamiliar place. Then quickly fluttering shut again as realization came to her. She was in the Seelie Court. Safe. Well, safer than before, safer than being hunted in the Unseelie Lands. Safe and rested. Clean, freshly bathed and clothed in a swath of ivory fabric, a Seelie nightgown perhaps. And in the room Nene had placed her and Mark and Kieran.

Kieran. She thought with alarm. He was injured, she had been left in charge of his care. She was supposed to be minding his injury every two hours by Nene's instruction. She had done so once in the calm of the night. She recalled the way her eyes had lingered on Kieran a moment too long, a moment in which Cristina saw him differently for the first time. Could almost admit...

Cristina made to turn over in bed to where Kieran had been asleep beside her. Where she had believed him to still be. But she sensed that he was no longer there.

And.

It was quiet. Still. But for a faint rustle of fabric, a sigh. Cristina froze. Her pulse quickening in response as her mind flickered through a cacophony of instances.

She was about to sit up to tell Mark, who had been sleeping on the floor at her beside, that Kieran was missing.

But.

Another sigh. And then the slightest of a whisper. Cristina's eyes widened in the darkened room as she lay still on her side. She had fallen asleep with her back to Kieran, and Mark below her in a bundle of blankets on the floor, just like she'd seen him do in Emma's room.

The whispers continued. Two voices. Unmistakably Mark and Kieran, speaking in a language Cristina did not know. No...Faerie. They were speaking Faerie to each other. Cristina had studied enough, with studies of Faerie being a guilty pleasure even, to recognize the lilt and even a word here and there.

They were quiet, so quiet. Cristina could barely hear them yet they were right beside her. She pretended to sleep. But her heart was now thundering in her chest. Her curiosity pulling at her, pestering her to look. Just to see...

She fought with herself for a minute or so more. But the quiet, quiet rustling and whispering and sighing continued.

Cristina bit at her lower lip, blinking into the darkness until her eyes began to adjust.

The room was just ever so illuminated by the faint glow from within the stone of the walls. She glanced at the foot of the bed to where just beyond at the far wall, a small fountain of water trickled serenely into a pool of water built into the stone floors.

A bathing pool. Where She, Mark and Kieran had each taken a turn in earlier, before Nene had given Kieran a sleeping draught. The waters had been soothingly warm and seemed to glow an ethereal blue-white like the light of a star. The sound of the trickling waters had lulled Cristina to sleep not long ago and did well to provide a quiet calm, and offer privacy from the echo of voices. Sounds like those that were coming from beside her now.

Finally, trying not to move, Cristina peered over the edge of the bed. And she watched not in a stunned horror but with an odd fascination, two boys, two Faerie boys in an intimate embrace beneath Mark's blanket. Cristina could see Kieran's dark hair, his head bent into Mark's neck. They were nestled together on their sides, Kieran behind Mark, his arm wrapped over Mark's exposed chest and hand disappearing into the waistband of his linen trousers.

They shifted. A near silent maneuver until Mark hovered atop Kieran, his pale skin gleaming slightly off his bare back as the blanket slipped down to his waist. This time a low groan escaped one of them. Kieran, thought Cristina, as Kieran's hands slid up from Mark's arms and entwined long fingers into pale hair. Their lips met. Again and again. Fierce, hungry. A clash of passion, hurt and anger and pleasure.

Cristina's fascination, an intrigue of beholding not only seeing two people in such an intimate way but watching two boys....It was....beautiful, she thought, but for a moment her fascination waned and jealousy pulsed through her. Images of herself and Mark in the copse of trees during the revel played through her mind. And she felt a pang of hurt, of embarrassment. Mark had just been tasting of her lips only just hours before and now....

Another tiny gasp sought the return of her attention and this time her pulse intensified but down below her belly. And along with it a heat that spread through her as she braved another peek.

Mark and Kieran's hands were intertwined, a lover's embrace. And they no longer seemed to be able to quiet themselves. Although they remained nearly utterly soundless but in this proximity little was left to Cristina's imagination and she bit hard into her lip and writhed slightly beneath her own sheets as Mark and Kieran moved against each other, a rhythm falling into place.

Mark leaned in and caught Kieran's mouth as he rocked against him, caught up a moan that rumbled deep in Kieran's throat hushing him just enough. Just enough for anyone else but Cristina.

Cristina realised she was breathing heavily, nearly panting and squeezing her thighs together looking for a bit of friction to release that pulsing there. She wanted Mark to touch her again, touch her like he touched Kieran. Look at her the way he looked at the Unseelie Prince. And too, she dared herself to think, she thought she might like the feel of Kieran's hands on her. That hot searing touch still burned from when he had clasped her wrist earlier and their eyes had locked in the dark. Locked and connected with an unspoken intrigue, if but for a fleeting moment.

By the Angel, she thought soberly, I shouldn't be...what was she doing? She thought in exasperation. She was mortified suddenly. Of everything but mostly of herself. For...spying on something that should be so private. It wasn't right for her to have secretly witnessed what should be Mark and Kieran's private moments together.

Frozen in horror, suddenly feeling extremely awkward and completely obvious, Cristina desperately wanted to run from the room. She couldn't believe herself. And she didn't want to admit...she was afraid to admit...was it wrong of her that she...enjoyed it?

Cristina warred with her conscience, her eyes squeezed shut in her pathetic feign of slumber. Ignoring now, as best as she could any and all happenings beside her on the floor.

But it had gone quiet once again.

Mark and Kieran lay in each other's arms, still, the blanket now pulled up to their shoulders. Finally Cristina allowed herself to move, shifting to her other side and pulling her own blanket high onto her shoulder. But she couldn't sleep.

Of all Cristina had witnessed, what she did not see was Kieran as he smiled defiantly at Cristina's turned back.

To be continued.....